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23 August 2024 at 9:59:04 pm

Liberal Hypocrisy

A revealing test of liberalism is whether it can condemn an idea when it comes from someone it considers politically useful. A recent interview given by controversial former student activist Sharjeel Imam to a supposedly progressive portal has put sections of India’s self-proclaimed liberal establishment in a right quandary. In his interview, Imam outrageously questioned the democratic framework as a means of securing Muslim political rights, portrayed secularism as a majoritarian stratagem...

Liberal Hypocrisy

A revealing test of liberalism is whether it can condemn an idea when it comes from someone it considers politically useful. A recent interview given by controversial former student activist Sharjeel Imam to a supposedly progressive portal has put sections of India’s self-proclaimed liberal establishment in a right quandary. In his interview, Imam outrageously questioned the democratic framework as a means of securing Muslim political rights, portrayed secularism as a majoritarian stratagem and challenged the idea of a unified Indian nation while going so far as to label the Constitution a trap and denouncing parliamentary democracy itself The point is not what Imam believes; radical fundamentalism has always worn its extremism on its sleeve. The real issue is why his pronouncements have not provoked the kind of hysterical moral outrage routinely directed at Hindu nationalism. Imam, who became a prominent face of the anti-Citizenship Amendment Act protests of 2019–20, faces serious charges under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) in connection with the Delhi riots conspiracy case and remains in judicial custody without conviction. The point is why are the voices, that routinely lecture the country on secularism, pluralism and constitutional morality, so conspicuously silent after Imam’s brazen statements. Figures like Imam have never existed in an ideological vacuum. Sections of the activist, academic and media elite gave the anti-CAA movement considerable moral and political support, and some commentators treated its more radical voices primarily through the prism of resistance to the Modi government, while wilfully sanitizing bigotry as 'dissent' and dressing up open sedition as mere political grievance When Hindu nationalist figures speak, their statements are meticulously dissected, parsed, and condemned for their threat to minority rights and secularism. Yet, when comparable or worse challenges to national cohesion, territorial integrity, and democratic principles emanate from minority or Islamist quarters, the same commentators suddenly discover the virtues of nuance, context and restraint. They retreat into a cowardly fence-sitting, desperate to avoid alienating a vocal constituency in their anti-regime coalition. Anything less than equal scrutiny turns universal principles into mere instruments of partisan convenience. This reveals a deeper, more embarrassing pathology among sections of the liberal establishment to conflate opposition to the government with absolute moral virtue. It exposes an unseemly willingness to forge Faustian bargains with extremist elements, operating on the crude and dangerous logic that the enemy of my enemy must be my ideological ally. An individual does not become a defender of democracy merely by opposing Narendra Modi, just as criticism of Islamist politics does not automatically make someone a Hindu nationalist. Ideological arguments must be judged by consistent standards rather than convenient labels. Liberalism that cannot confront illiberalism among its own ideological fellow-travellers is not principled liberalism. It then devolves into mere partisan hypocrisy and a hollow exercise in selective outrage that ultimately destroys the very democratic values it claims to defend.

China: The Journey That Stays With You

Writer: Archita Redkar
Archita Redkar
May 1
3 min read

It doesn’t just change how you see the world—it changes a small part of you.

China is not just a country—it is an experience that unfolds gently, layer by layer, revealing stories of emperors, revolutions, nature’s grandeur, and human resilience. It is a land where ancient heritage and modern ambition exist in harmony, where every journey slowly becomes personal, almost intimate.


I remember one moment during a group journey when I was leading 38 people that has stayed with me ever since. We were cruising along the mighty Yangtze River, its waters calm yet carrying centuries of history. As our ship glided past mist-covered hills, we saw what appeared to be a quiet, almost forgotten settlement—a “ghost town", they called it. It stood as a reminder of villages relocated or submerged during the making of the Three Gorges Dam. The air felt still, almost sacred. One traveller in my group whispered, “Even silence here has a story.”


That evening, as we gathered on deck under a fading sky, something shifted within the group. People who had arrived as strangers were now sharing laughter, reflections, and quiet understanding. China has a way of doing that—it doesn’t just show you places, it connects people in unexpected ways.


As we continued our journey, the vastness of China revealed itself through its ever-changing landscapes. From the dreamlike karst mountains of Guilin to the dramatic hills around Chongqing, the country feels like a living painting. The Yangtze basin, rich and fertile, has nurtured civilisations for thousands of years. Here, history does not feel distant—it feels alive, breathing through rivers, mountains, and cities.


Walking through Beijing is like stepping into a grand narrative of time. At Tiananmen Square, you feel the weight of history and change. The elegance of the Temple of Heaven and the serenity of the Summer Palace offer moments of quiet reflection. And then there is the awe-inspiring Great Wall of China, stretching endlessly across mountains—a symbol not just of strength but of human determination.


In Xi’an, the past stands guard in the form of the Terracotta Army—thousands of silent warriors, each with a story, each watching over history. Even the cultural performances here, with their dramatic terracotta-style masks, seem to whisper tales of dynasties long gone.


Then comes Shanghai, where the rhythm shifts. Here, colonial charm meets futuristic ambition. The city glows with energy—the Bund, the skyline, the movement—it all feels alive, fast, and endlessly fascinating.


In contrast, Chengdu offers a softer, slower rhythm. At the Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding, watching pandas in their playful innocence is a moment of pure joy. There is something calming about them, as if they remind you to pause and simply be.


Back along the river, journeys from Chongqing through the Three Gorges unfold like poetry—misty cliffs, winding waters, and echoes of stories from the past blending with modern China. In Guilin, exploring the magical Reed Flute Cave feels like stepping into another world, while the Li River flows quietly through landscapes that seem almost unreal.


China’s spirit is not just in its places but also in its traditions. Festivals like the vibrant Chinese New Year, the gentle beauty of the Mid-Autumn Festival, and the energy of the Dragon Boat Festival reflect a culture deeply rooted in family, respect, and harmony. These values are not just observed—they are felt.


And then there is the food—an experience in itself. From the crisp perfection of Peking Duck to the warmth of a shared hot pot in Chongqing and the delicate flavours of dim sum, every meal becomes a memory. Fresh fruits, fragrant teas, and regional flavours tell stories of land and tradition.


What has stayed with me the most, however, is not just the beauty of China but the experience of leading groups through it. Managing travellers across such a vast and culturally rich land required more than planning; it required understanding people. I found myself listening more, observing more, adapting constantly. Whether it was guiding someone through the overwhelming grandeur of Beijing or comforting a first-time traveller on a Yangtze cruise, I realised how deeply human travel truly is.


Despite language barriers, China always felt welcoming. There is a quiet kindness in its people, a sense of order and safety, and an unspoken warmth that makes you feel at ease. I have seen strangers help each other without words, smiles exchanged without language, and connections formed without effort.


And perhaps that is China’s greatest gift—it doesn’t just show you the world, it gently changes how you see it, and in doing so, it changes a small part of you forever.


(The writer is a tourism professional and runs a company, Global Voyages. She could be contacted at goglobalvoyages@gmail.com. Views personal.)


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