Presumably written in consultation with several of the larger Hindu organisations in Britain, the Hindu Manifesto was launched last week. The idea is that prospective parliamentary candidates (PPCs) commit to its contents and for Hindus to vote for those who have signed up. Signers-up can be tracked online by constituency. Without endorsing any party, the manifesto asks PPCs to commit to a set of policies. It offers detail and sets out brief “candidate expectations”.
PPCs could assent to many of the expectations without much difficulty. The most uncontroversial include facilitating culturally sensitive events including marriage, religious ceremonies, and cremation; promoting reasonable accommodation of individuals’ rights to display religious symbols; better representation of Hindus in foster care, social services, chaplaincies, political parties, and public institutions, and better support and access for the elderly and disabled. There is specific mention of the need to provide better-funded protection for mandirs. Their past discriminatory treatment means that Hindus have a compelling case that fits neatly into British multiculturalism.
The more challenging “candidate expectations” are the demands for recognising anti-Hindu hate, the proscription of organisations and individuals engaging in hate and violence against Hindus. Some PPCs will be reluctant to proscribe the LeT, the JKLF, the ISYF or Sikhs for Justice because they risk irking other, already influential constituencies. The manifesto rightly refers to “attack on the High Commission of India” but hasn’t there been more than one such attack on the High Commission? PPCs do need reminding of these attacks which politicians have ignored, although some may well have welcomed or encouraged them.
The manifesto erroneously refers to the proscription of individuals; the terrorism law only proscribes organisations; other measures apply to individuals. Some expert input may have picked up on such seemingly minor but important errors, which underscore the exclusion from the drafting process of experts with relevant domain knowledge. Hindu community organisations haven’t yet understood the role of specialist knowledge, especially when they so obviously lack it.
Among the other “candidate expectations” are the need for more faith schools and expanding the teaching of Hinduism in religious education. These are not uncontroversial points among Hindus or the wider public. There may be good reasons to curb the spread of faith schools because, as OFSTED will confirm, that privilege is widely being abused too. One can’t argue though with the advocated wider teaching of Indic languages.
The simultaneous demand for curbing illegal migration may not work to counterbalance the manifesto’s demand for reducing visa delays and increasing the length of dependent and elderly parent visas. These will be seen by many PPCs as further compromising an already leaky system. When other controversial issues haven’t been raised, it’s unclear why the lightning rod of immigration should have been.
Although no one wants Hindus to copy the outrageous demands being made by some Muslim campaigners, my impression is that the manifesto could have been more ambitious. Some involved in drafting it have explained that its rather low pitching was a deliberate choice. It is designed to get sign-ups from more PPCs as the first step in fostering better dialogue and engagement between Hindu organisations and politicians.
Hindus haven’t demanded much in the past, while politicians have taken them for granted. They know that Hindus vote in quite low numbers for elections. Hindus tend to be satisfied with photo opportunities and contracts, funding or awards for themselves without offering any political programme for enhancing the life of their community or the nation. Given this “chai-and-samosas” attitude, the manifesto’s walking-before-one-runs approach may be understandable.
Some elements such as those on anti-Hindu hate appear half-baked. Granted, the language of ‘Hinduphobia’ is less prominent as it is awfully close to the toxic term ‘Islamophobia’, which is meant to make all our freedoms subject to an Islamic veto. Yet, the detailed provisions are copied from Hinduphobia documents written by organisations across the Atlantic, so the lexical veil isn’t altogether convincing.
More worrying is that the list steers into topics of legitimate discussion and includes types of speech that can hardly be described as hateful. The philosopher SN Balagangadhara argues on scientific grounds that India has no religion, let alone the entity Hinduism. Hindus would do better to engage seriously with such intellectual problems rather than bracketing them as hate speech.
Absent from the manifesto is an expectation that PPCs should commit to repealing the caste provision in the Equality Act 2010. After its caste consultation of 2018, the Conservative government said it would repeal the provision, but it didn’t do so. And no Hindu organisations called the government to account for that.
The caste provision can be made effective merely by ministerial order. Once enacted by a future Labour government, it won’t ever be repealed and will provide a lawful basis to abuse Hindus. Although the manifesto says linking caste to Hinduism constitutes anti-Hindu hate, it overlooks the lurking legislation that does precisely that.
The manifesto’s failure on the caste law underscores points made already: an unwillingness to rely on expertise, a lack of ambition; and inconsistent thinking. I would add to these the lack of follow-up on commitments made by politicians and governments. Will the manifesto share the same fate?
Dr Prakash Shah is a Reader in Culture and Law, Queen Mary, University of London
