It seems counter-intuitive to be critical of something we revere, to publicly acknowledge wrongs committed by the very nation to which we owe loyalty, to detect moral flaws in the character of children we love ‘blindly’. Love, devotion, patriotism and even respect are possible only if critical judgment is suspended. Right? Conversely, flaws and blemishes surface only when what is mine ceases to be mine, when I begin treating my family or community as any other. The best critiques depend on complete detachment.
I wish to argue, however, that this way of separating critique from love or attachment is mistaken. In an earlier column, I proposed that we critically respect the religion or philosophy to which we owe allegiance. Here I would like to extend this attitude to the family into which we are born, the institution where we work, and the country we call our home.
Our country, right or wrong?
“Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations may she always be in the right; but right or wrong, our country!” remarked Stephen Decatur, an American naval officer living in the aftermath of the war of independence, exemplifying the kind of loyalty and commitment that precludes criticism. Possessive pronouns such as ‘mine’ or ‘ours’ are laden with strong sentiment and passionate commitment, but they need not compel us to react defensively at the slightest complaint of wrongdoing. Understandable, it may be, but it is not the only response, and certainly not the best. A more appropriate rejoinder is to reflectively evaluate the negative judgment and if, on deliberation, found valid, to act and set things right. An obvious example: a parent sees or is shown some wrong done by a child, some defect appearing in his character. A foolish reaction would be to cover up what the child has done, to whitewash the wrong, to announce that the child committed no wrong. This myopically appeases the child, throwing the door wide open to future moral disasters. The wiser response is to resolve to set things right; to patiently sit with the child, understand her motivation and then launch a sensitive and sensible process of moral rehabilitation. What is true of our children is true of our religious communities, and of the nation too. When a wrong done by our religious community (for example, the brutal rape of women from another community) or our nation (for example, callousness to poverty or farmers’ suicides) jumps to the eye, one can neither publicly defend this wrong nor hide one’s head, ostrich-like, under the sand. The wrong has to be collectively and openly identified and set right.
It is by this logic that another American, Carl Schurz, a Union General in the American civil war, amended Decatur’s statement, investing it with another, virtually opposite meaning, “My country, right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right.” When our country behaves well, meets appropriate moral standards, we feel good, even proud, but when it behaves badly, it still remains ours and for that reason, we have a special obligation to identify what is wrong with it, to openly criticise it. It is simply mistaken to presume that the stronger our identification with the country, the harder it is to recognise or acknowledge its wrongs. Indeed, the closer our identification with the nation, the stronger the motivation to restore it to the right path, and this desire to move it in the right direction propels us to a better understanding of what precisely has gone wrong. Love and attachment motivate us to undertake sharper, persistent critique. Indeed, the more things go wrong, the more severe our critique and the more intense our desire to put things back on the right track. Critique does not require total emotional detachment.
Distance, not detachment
Although critique is possible without radical detachment, it does demand some distance. But distance from what? I believe that public criticism of whatever is ours — family, institution, religion, or nation — presupposes the ability to disconnect not from the entire community but its rotten segments: persistent lies told by our child, the callous indifference to the hierarchy and intolerance within our religion, the petty acts of power and manipulation within our institutions, the pernicious oppressions in our nation. We move away from these decadent sites not to escape to some place wholly outside our community but to other, more morally defensible locations within it. We move sideways to whereever the morally right stance is still alive. This is not possible if we remain close to the beneficiaries of the rot or succumb to the base Machiavellian temptation to whisper in the ear of power wielders. A son cannot criticise patriarchy in his family or remove it if he kowtows to his oppressive father or himself benefits from the unfair burden imposed on his mother. But to be critical, he does not have to renounce his family either. Likewise, Indians do not become anti-national, or Hindus, anti-Hindu when they justifiably criticise some of their unethical practices.
A final remark to reinforce my main point: A better grasp of what we are and a fair appraisal of how well we fare requires a form of understanding available only from the inside, from particular locations within our religious, national, or institutional community. A sustained connection with one’s community is crucial to understanding what it is and should be. Only when such understanding is available can we arrive at appropriate and relevant critiques. Thus, a deep connection, some emotional and intellectual attachment (love, respect and commitment), is an important condition of appropriate critique. Critical respect is crucial to a vibrant living community.
