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Correspondent

23 August 2024 at 4:29:04 pm

Federal Farce

India’s federal compact was never meant to resemble street theatre. Yet that is precisely what unfolded in Tamil Nadu and Kerala, where opening sessions of the Assemblies degenerated into petty skirmishes between Raj Bhavans and elected governments. Governors deserve scrutiny for overreach. But what played out on January 20 says as much about the studied belligerence of two state governments that have turned constitutional convention into a contact sport. Start with Tamil Nadu. Governor R.N....

Federal Farce

India’s federal compact was never meant to resemble street theatre. Yet that is precisely what unfolded in Tamil Nadu and Kerala, where opening sessions of the Assemblies degenerated into petty skirmishes between Raj Bhavans and elected governments. Governors deserve scrutiny for overreach. But what played out on January 20 says as much about the studied belligerence of two state governments that have turned constitutional convention into a contact sport. Start with Tamil Nadu. Governor R.N. Ravi’s decision to walk out of the Assembly without delivering his address was dramatic, ill-judged and constitutionally questionable. But the stage for that walkout was carefully set by the ruling DMK. The Speaker’s insistence that the Governor read only what the Cabinet had approved, delivered with the pugnacious aside that “only MLAs can express opinion in the House,” reflected not reverence for convention but contempt for dialogue. Tamil Nadu’s government treated it as an opportunity to box the Governor into a corner and then feign outrage when he refused to play along. The subsequent statements from Raj Bhavan, disputing the state’s extravagant investment claims and invoking disrespect to the national anthem, only deepened the ugliness. But it is worth asking why such disputes routinely explode in Tamil Nadu. The answer lies less in New Delhi’s alleged conspiracies than in Chennai’s habit of governing by provocation. The DMK has discovered that permanent confrontation with the Governor serves its political narrative as it keeps the Centre in the dock. Kerala’s episode was no less revealing. Governor Rajendra Vishwanath Arlekar delivered his address and left, only for Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan to return to the House to announce solemnly that the Governor had tampered with Cabinet-approved paragraphs. The offending omissions concerned fiscal federalism and pending Bills, subjects dear to the Left Democratic Front’s sense of grievance. Vijayan’s declaration that the Cabinet’s version would prevail was less a constitutional clarification than a performative assertion of supremacy. Governors are not meant to rewrite policy. But nor are Assemblies meant to retroactively overrule a Governor’s address by executive fiat. Kerala’s government could have placed its objections on record or sought judicial clarity. Instead, it chose to dramatize the dispute, turning the Assembly into a forum for moral grandstanding. Together, these episodes expose a deeper malaise. State governments, particularly those ruled by parties opposed to the BJP, have begun to treat Governors not as constitutional functionaries to be constrained by process, but as political foils to be publicly humiliated. The irony is rich. Tamil Nadu and Kerala style themselves as guardians of constitutional morality, federalism and democratic norms. Yet, by weaponizing Assembly proceedings against Governors, they weaken the very conventions they claim to defend. None of this absolves Governors who stray into partisan commentary or obstructionism. India has no shortage of such examples. But federalism cannot be sustained if elected governments respond to irritation with institutional vandalism. Assemblies are not arenas for settling scores with Raj Bhavans.

Free Speech Is Not Free

India as a nation has always been deeply engaged in conversations aroundcricket, politics, andentertainment. These three subjects dominate socialdiscussions and have often intersected over the years. Many prominent figuresfrom the entertainment industry and the world of cricket have found themselves

involved in the political arena at different points in time. From yesteryears’ stars likeAmitabh Bachchan,Sunil Dutt, Nargis, Vyjayanthimala, Raj Babbar, VinodKhanna, Rajesh Khanna and Shatrughan Sinha to more recent personalities, thecrossover between stardom and political engagement has been part of India’s public life.


However, after 2014, when Narendra Modi rose to power, thedynamics changed dramatically. The political climate grew increasingly polarised,and public figures began to be categorised based on their opinions of Modi orthe central government. Those who expressed support were quickly branded ‘nationalists’ or ‘patriots,’ while those who criticised were often derided as‘anti-national.’


The labels ‘bhakt’ and ‘andh-bhakt’ (blind devotee) emergedas shorthand in online and offline political debates, shaping how peopleperceived celebrity opinions. Actors like Arun Govil and Anupam Kher, who openly supported Prime Minister Modi, were often mocked as blind followers while those like Swara Bhaskar,Prakash Raj and Siddharth, who were vocal critics of the government, facedharsh trolling.


Fraught environment

In this charged environment, even those whotypically stayed away from political debates were not spared when theyexpressed a personal opinion. A recent example of this complex relationshipbetween celebrity opinion and political backlash is the controversy surroundingveteran Marathi actor, director and producer Mahesh Kothare.


Kothare is a household name in Maharashtra. Known for hiscontributions to Marathi cinema in the 1980s and 1990s, he played a key role inshaping the industry’s commercial landscape. His films were among the first touse advanced technical elements in regional cinema, and he is credited withmodernising Marathi filmmaking. Over the years, he managed to stayrelevant without involving himself in political debates, maintaining an image asa family-friendly entertainer respected across political lines.


However, this neutral image was challenged recently when Kothare attended aDiwali Pahat event in Borivali, Mumbai, organised by BJP leader Pravin Darekar.During the event, in what seemed like an impromptu comment, Kotharedeclared himself a “Modi Bhakt,” saying that he was a devotee of Prime MinisterNarendra Modi and that he was confident “the lotus will bloom in Mumbai,”referring to the BJP’s election symbol. His statement was met with immediatepolitical reactions and widespread media coverage. Videos of his remarks wentviral across Marathi and national media platforms. Soon his comments were dissected, criticised and politicised far beyond what he might have anticipated.


Opposition backlash

The Opposition, especially leaders from the Shiv Sena (Uddhav BalasahebThackeray faction), reacted strongly. Sanjay Raut questioned Kothare’ sstatement, asking whether his films were made only for BJP supporters. Rautsarcastically remarked that such declarations were unnecessary for someone who belonged to the artistic world and that cinema should remain above partypolitics.


KishoriPednekar, former mayor of Mumbai and a senior Shiv Sena leader, wenteven further. She accused Kothare of making such statements to curry favourwith the ruling party and protect his family’s interests, alluding to a pending legalcase involving his daughter-in-law, actor Urmila Kothare. She alleged that hisopen support for the Prime Minister was an attempt to gain sympathy orprotection from the BJP in the aftermath of the incident. These accusationsadded another layer of controversy, linking a seeming personal political opinion to allegations of opportunism.


Kothare’s statement became the topic of intense debateon television and social media platforms. Supporters of the BJP hailed hiscourage and honesty, calling him a proud nationalist unafraid to speak his mind.Critics, on the other hand, accused him of selling out and questioned his motives. Trolls on both sides flooded social media with memes and sarcastic jibes.


In response, Kothare said that his comments were simply a reflection of his personal admiration for Modi’s leadership and that he did not intend to politicise his profession. He added that in India, every citizen has the right to express their political beliefs, and that this freedom of expressionshould not be misinterpreted as an attempt to divide.


The incident highlights the fragile boundary between celebrity culture and political discourse in today’s India. The entertainment industry has always had close ties withpolitics. But the degree of polarisation and intensity seen today isunprecedented. A star’s statement is no longer seen as a personal opinion; it becomes a public declaration of allegiance. This binary narrative leaves littleroom for nuance.


Regional pride

In Maharashtra, where politics and cinema have traditionally intersected through cultural identity, the stakes are even higher. Marathi cinema is deeply tied to notions of regional pride, linguistic identity, andsocio-political ideology. Thus, when a prominent figure like Mahesh Kothare,who represents the face of Marathi cinema, publicly supports a national politicalparty, it provokes reactions not just from political circles but also from culturalpurists who see it as a betrayal of regional neutrality.


Another underlying dimension of this controversy is the commercial riskassociated with politicaldeclarations. For actors and filmmakers, the audiencebase cuts across political, linguistic and social divisions. Taking a strong politicalposition can alienate a section of that audience. Sanjay Raut’s jibe, asking whether Kothare’s films are made only for BJP supporters, reflects that anxiety.


The controversy also underscores how social media hasamplified the consequences of every public statement. Troll armies on both sides of theideological divide quickly mobilises, turning individual opinions into culture wars.


Kothare’s case is not unique. Over the past decade, severalfilm personalities have faced similar scrutiny for expressing their political views.What makes his case noteworthy is that he hails from the Marathi film industry, which has generally remained more insulated from national politicalcontroversies compared to Bollywood. The backlash he received reflects thenationalisation of political discourse, where regional boundaries no longerprotect artists from ideological crossfire The episode raises larger questions about whether artists today can afford to remain politically neutral and whether society allows them that freedom.


(The writer is a political observer. Views personal.)

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