The Buddha’s approach to wrongdoing is a realistic one: if you think it makes you happy do it; if it does not make you happy it is foolish to continue doing it. This is a more practical way of dealing with ethical issues than using guilt as a form of social control which has grave side effects both to the individual and the society at large.
I agree with the Buddha that you cannot act unethically and be happy with yourself at the same time. What is important is that there are lessons to be learnt from every calamity whether natural or human-made and most of the time it is the human-made that end up becoming a natural calamity. This is not to say that the people of Kerala are responsible for the devastating flood. This is to say that Kerala and, in fact, India as a nation-state have a long way to go on the ethical front and in the aftermath of the flood there is time for introspection.
The first lesson and a universal one is that you cannot put politics above morality. Morality and conscientious behavior are as old as the human person on the planet. At some point in the story of evolution, it is compassionate behavior and a sense of responsibility towards others that enabled the emergence of the human person to thrive against natural odds. Some day when the earth comes to an end it is the same ability to display compassion and speak the truth that will help the human person to find a home elsewhere in the vast spaces of the galaxy.
As a state, Kerala has put politics above morality and, in the process, reduced morality to justifying political ends without respect for the means. “Politics is in their blood,” is what Father A, my Catholic priest friend told me about the person-on-the-street in Kerala. That is what the rape of a prominent actress orchestrated by a fellow actor is about; that is what the political murders by ideological rivals are about; that is what the selfie with the lynched tribal is about; that is where you trace the origins of misogyny, communalism and linguistic chauvinism. Sooner or later they enter the bloodstream and become a part of who you are; they become you, more you than yourself, more you than you could ever imagine being.
Politics divides; morality is where platforms are built for people to come together in the recognition of another person’s human dignity. In Naguib Mahfouz’s story from the episodic novel Fountain and Tomb, the geography teacher warns the people of the quarter that nature is a greater danger than dealing with one’s “rotten neighbors.” At the end of the day the rotten neighbors are people and dealing with people is easier than dealing with nature. The teacher is mocked as “Professor Falseprophet” until the day when the incessant rains flood the entire quarter and bodies are floating in the cemetery.
Mahfouz’s story beautifully illustrates the point that nature is indifferent to political divisions that men take so seriously. A moral platform is where people are united in a spirit of friendship so that they can respond to natural crises with a sense of togetherness. In one of the episodes of the sitcom Golden Girls (1985), Sophia tells the other women about the important things she learnt from life: one is, “hold fast to your friends” and another is, “there is no such thing as security.” Security is an illusion and myth made up by insurance companies and politicians who need to keep the masses in a state of fear so that they can stay in power. Insecurity is built into the fabric of human existence. But, friends are real and friendship makes life meaningful. Only friends can make you laugh in times of sickness and near death. You are not a burden to your friends and no matter how much in trouble, you can always count on your friends to stand with you even if they disagree with everything you say and do.
Any state whose citizens are obsessed with politics is a state without friends and with a false notion of security. That is the sad plight of Kerala: as a state they are caught up with themselves speaking to themselves about themselves. Floods in the end go away. Nature’s anger is temporary, not permanent. It is imperative to respect and protect nature at all costs. But for support and company you need to look at your fellow human being.
Provincialism is a disease of the soul and one thousand times more dangerous than a flood. The Romans who vindictively destroyed Carthage were a bunch of provincials without a vision of the world. The empire had to fall, therefore, before a simple ethic of love that came from a carpenter’s son. As a state, Kerala needs to find a cure for the disease of provincialism and embrace the cosmopolitanism that welcomes other people and ways of life. Education that does not free one from a provincial attitude has little to offer to the world. Students, teachers, journalists, reporters, lawyers—everyone cannot be speaking in the same language, as if “protest” is a word coined in Kerala for the rest of humanity. It wasn’t the educated who played a role during the devastating rains but poor, illiterate fishermen who braved the flood and to whom we owe the lives of thousands.
By making Kerala the center of their cultural universe, the educated classes have left no scope to intelligently reflect on the state of the world. This is the provincialism of the educated; for lack of serious reflection they automatically promoted themselves to activists. You cannot have a state where the majority is protesting on a daily basis against something or the other. The so-called activism which is a euphemism for anti-state politics is a blind rejection of the state while embracing the autocracy of the communities. Never were the people more in need of state support than when the flood arrived at their doorstep without an invitation or a warning.
Morality is the answer to provincialism that stifles the imagination. In my view, anyone who is able to use language to make a point is educated. Being grammatically correct and being creative are two different things. It doesn’t mean we don’t need grammar. It also means that we cannot assume that because I make grammatically correct sentences, I am educated enough to reflect on the world around me. Education has to emerge from moral awareness combined with the ability to creatively open the mind to the world around oneself. It means speaking to others about others and learning their language and understanding what makes them who they are.
An unethical life comes with a price; the price is unhappiness, as the Buddha says. As a nation, Indians have allowed themselves to become a petty-minded people cutting across caste, religion, language and region. Sycophancy is “in their blood” and takes the form of worshipping authority, whether the authority comes from tradition, a person or a political ideology. A racist, communal and emotionally dishonest people have little to offer to the world except doctors who treat their patients like objects and software engineers who cannot see what lies beyond their computers. A nation or a society cannot be happy where it sacrifices morality for petty material gains. Merciful behavior and kindness to strangers are qualities of a highly evolved society and individuals; they define education and cosmopolitanism in the real sense of the term. That is the direction in which Kerala as a state and, needless to say, India as a nation must go.
Prakash Kona is a writer, teacher and researcher who lives in Hyderabad, India. He is Professor at the Department of English Literature, The English and Foreign Languages University (EFLU), Hyderabad.
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Lessons for Kerala and India from the devastating flood
Posted on September 19, 2018 by Prakash Kona
The Buddha’s approach to wrongdoing is a realistic one: if you think it makes you happy do it; if it does not make you happy it is foolish to continue doing it. This is a more practical way of dealing with ethical issues than using guilt as a form of social control which has grave side effects both to the individual and the society at large.
I agree with the Buddha that you cannot act unethically and be happy with yourself at the same time. What is important is that there are lessons to be learnt from every calamity whether natural or human-made and most of the time it is the human-made that end up becoming a natural calamity. This is not to say that the people of Kerala are responsible for the devastating flood. This is to say that Kerala and, in fact, India as a nation-state have a long way to go on the ethical front and in the aftermath of the flood there is time for introspection.
The first lesson and a universal one is that you cannot put politics above morality. Morality and conscientious behavior are as old as the human person on the planet. At some point in the story of evolution, it is compassionate behavior and a sense of responsibility towards others that enabled the emergence of the human person to thrive against natural odds. Some day when the earth comes to an end it is the same ability to display compassion and speak the truth that will help the human person to find a home elsewhere in the vast spaces of the galaxy.
As a state, Kerala has put politics above morality and, in the process, reduced morality to justifying political ends without respect for the means. “Politics is in their blood,” is what Father A, my Catholic priest friend told me about the person-on-the-street in Kerala. That is what the rape of a prominent actress orchestrated by a fellow actor is about; that is what the political murders by ideological rivals are about; that is what the selfie with the lynched tribal is about; that is where you trace the origins of misogyny, communalism and linguistic chauvinism. Sooner or later they enter the bloodstream and become a part of who you are; they become you, more you than yourself, more you than you could ever imagine being.
Politics divides; morality is where platforms are built for people to come together in the recognition of another person’s human dignity. In Naguib Mahfouz’s story from the episodic novel Fountain and Tomb, the geography teacher warns the people of the quarter that nature is a greater danger than dealing with one’s “rotten neighbors.” At the end of the day the rotten neighbors are people and dealing with people is easier than dealing with nature. The teacher is mocked as “Professor Falseprophet” until the day when the incessant rains flood the entire quarter and bodies are floating in the cemetery.
Mahfouz’s story beautifully illustrates the point that nature is indifferent to political divisions that men take so seriously. A moral platform is where people are united in a spirit of friendship so that they can respond to natural crises with a sense of togetherness. In one of the episodes of the sitcom Golden Girls (1985), Sophia tells the other women about the important things she learnt from life: one is, “hold fast to your friends” and another is, “there is no such thing as security.” Security is an illusion and myth made up by insurance companies and politicians who need to keep the masses in a state of fear so that they can stay in power. Insecurity is built into the fabric of human existence. But, friends are real and friendship makes life meaningful. Only friends can make you laugh in times of sickness and near death. You are not a burden to your friends and no matter how much in trouble, you can always count on your friends to stand with you even if they disagree with everything you say and do.
Any state whose citizens are obsessed with politics is a state without friends and with a false notion of security. That is the sad plight of Kerala: as a state they are caught up with themselves speaking to themselves about themselves. Floods in the end go away. Nature’s anger is temporary, not permanent. It is imperative to respect and protect nature at all costs. But for support and company you need to look at your fellow human being.
Provincialism is a disease of the soul and one thousand times more dangerous than a flood. The Romans who vindictively destroyed Carthage were a bunch of provincials without a vision of the world. The empire had to fall, therefore, before a simple ethic of love that came from a carpenter’s son. As a state, Kerala needs to find a cure for the disease of provincialism and embrace the cosmopolitanism that welcomes other people and ways of life. Education that does not free one from a provincial attitude has little to offer to the world. Students, teachers, journalists, reporters, lawyers—everyone cannot be speaking in the same language, as if “protest” is a word coined in Kerala for the rest of humanity. It wasn’t the educated who played a role during the devastating rains but poor, illiterate fishermen who braved the flood and to whom we owe the lives of thousands.
By making Kerala the center of their cultural universe, the educated classes have left no scope to intelligently reflect on the state of the world. This is the provincialism of the educated; for lack of serious reflection they automatically promoted themselves to activists. You cannot have a state where the majority is protesting on a daily basis against something or the other. The so-called activism which is a euphemism for anti-state politics is a blind rejection of the state while embracing the autocracy of the communities. Never were the people more in need of state support than when the flood arrived at their doorstep without an invitation or a warning.
Morality is the answer to provincialism that stifles the imagination. In my view, anyone who is able to use language to make a point is educated. Being grammatically correct and being creative are two different things. It doesn’t mean we don’t need grammar. It also means that we cannot assume that because I make grammatically correct sentences, I am educated enough to reflect on the world around me. Education has to emerge from moral awareness combined with the ability to creatively open the mind to the world around oneself. It means speaking to others about others and learning their language and understanding what makes them who they are.
An unethical life comes with a price; the price is unhappiness, as the Buddha says. As a nation, Indians have allowed themselves to become a petty-minded people cutting across caste, religion, language and region. Sycophancy is “in their blood” and takes the form of worshipping authority, whether the authority comes from tradition, a person or a political ideology. A racist, communal and emotionally dishonest people have little to offer to the world except doctors who treat their patients like objects and software engineers who cannot see what lies beyond their computers. A nation or a society cannot be happy where it sacrifices morality for petty material gains. Merciful behavior and kindness to strangers are qualities of a highly evolved society and individuals; they define education and cosmopolitanism in the real sense of the term. That is the direction in which Kerala as a state and, needless to say, India as a nation must go.
Prakash Kona is a writer, teacher and researcher who lives in Hyderabad, India. He is Professor at the Department of English Literature, The English and Foreign Languages University (EFLU), Hyderabad.