top of page

By:

Ruddhi Phadke

22 September 2024 at 10:17:54 am

Racial Harmony Over Viral Hate

Amid a surge in online ‘anti-Indian’ narratives, Singapore’s decisive intervention has offered a model that many Western democracies have often shied away from. Last week, Singapore ordered three major social-media platforms to block access to 14 posts believed to have originated in China. The content allegedly targeted the Indian community and sought to chip away at the city-state’s carefully cultivated model of multiculturalism. The move was striking not only for its speed, but for its...

Racial Harmony Over Viral Hate

Amid a surge in online ‘anti-Indian’ narratives, Singapore’s decisive intervention has offered a model that many Western democracies have often shied away from. Last week, Singapore ordered three major social-media platforms to block access to 14 posts believed to have originated in China. The content allegedly targeted the Indian community and sought to chip away at the city-state’s carefully cultivated model of multiculturalism. The move was striking not only for its speed, but for its clarity. Where many Western democracies often vacillate between lofty free-speech rhetoric and the messy realities of online hatred, Singapore chose decisiveness. Faced with content that appeared designed to inflame racial tensions, the government moved swiftly to shield a vulnerable community and signal that digital platforms would not be allowed to become incubators of ethnic hostility. As per reports, the police have issued directions to YouTube, Facebook, and X, to take all reasonable steps to prevent Singapore users from accessing the content. At a time when racial hatred, fake news and foreign influence operations have become increasingly sophisticated, Singapore has sent an unequivocal message: any attempt to divide its society along racial lines will be met with swift and decisive action. Overseas Mischief Singapore’s Second Minister for Home Affairs, Edwin Tong, said the content appeared to have originated overseas. He stressed that the government would not tolerate narratives aimed at undermining racial harmony, especially when driven by foreign actors. Singapore invoked the Online Criminal Harms Act 2023 (OCHA), which allows authorities to issue rapid “Disabling Directions” to internet intermediaries to curb content deemed harmful to public safety and social harmony. According to the authorities, anti-India narratives began circulating last month in Chinese-language online spaces. The posts claimed that Singapore was being overrun by Indians and that official promotion of diversity was merely an attempt to curry favour with the West. More troublingly, some argued that Singapore's stability owed little to its multicultural success story and everything to the ethnic Chinese majority, implying that social harmony rested on demographics rather than shared citizenship. Other posts questioned the loyalty of Singapore’s Indian politicians, suggesting they would place the interests of Indian immigrants above those of the country. The rhetoric then grew more overtly exclusionary. Some posts portrayed Singaporean culture as fundamentally Chinese and warned that a growing Indian presence, coupled with what they described as Singapore’s drift away from China, would have dire consequences for the city-state. Demeaning References The campaign relied heavily on selective imagery: photographs of Indian festivals in crowded public spaces and videos from neighbourhoods with large Indian populations, many apparently filmed on weekends when migrant workers were off duty. Sans context, the material appeared designed to reinforce negative stereotypes and inflame resentment against Singapore’s Indian community. The language was often openly derogatory. A report in ‘The Straits Times’ alleged that some posts had compared the growth of Singapore’s Indian population to an increasing “concentration of curry,” among other demeaning references. Such language left little doubt about the campaign’s intent. Singaporean authorities suspected a coordinated effort and said the content appeared to have originated on a China-based platform. What stands out, however, is not merely the source of the campaign but the speed of the response. The government did not wait for online hostility to spill onto the streets. Nor did it allow the debate to become so polarised that it would be difficult to contain. Instead, it intervened early, treating the threat as a matter of public order rather than merely online discourse. That matters to India. As the country’s global footprint expands, so too does the visibility of its diaspora. Indians today lead multinational companies, universities, research institutions and governments across the world. Success brings opportunity, but it can also invite resentment. In the age of social media, such hostility can be amplified with unprecedented speed and reach. Digital Interference Whether other countries will follow Singapore’s example remains an open question. If any country understands the dangers of digital interference, it is India. New Delhi has seen firsthand how online platforms can shape narratives, influence public opinion and, in some cases, create national-security concerns. That understanding partly informed its 2020 decision to ban dozens of Chinese applications, including TikTok, on grounds of sovereignty and security. The broader point was clear: the digital world is not separate from the real one. Online platforms are not merely channels of communication; they can also serve as instruments of influence, manipulation and interference. In that respect, Singapore’s response closely mirrors India’s own understanding of the risks posed by digital ecosystems. Many Western democracies have taken a different approach, often preferring to tolerate inflammatory content in the name of free expression. Singapore chose otherwise. It viewed the material not simply as offensive speech but as content directed at a specific community and capable of undermining social cohesion. Implicit in that assessment was the belief that anti-Indian racial agitation was not merely a social problem but potentially a national-security concern. The lesson extends far beyond Singapore. In an era when propaganda travels faster than verified facts and divisive narratives can reach millions within minutes, governments can ill afford to underestimate the disruptive power of digital interference or the real-world consequences that may follow.

Lingua Pragmatica

Updated: Mar 20, 2025

As Southern leaders like M.K. Stalin rage against Hindi, Andhra Pradesh’s Chief Minister Chandrababu Naidu offers a model of pragmatism over parochialism.

Chandrababu Naidu
Andhra Pradesh

Amid the cacophony of opposition in southern states to Hindi, Andhra Pradesh CM N. Chandrababu Naidu has taken a markedly pragmatic stance by remarking recently in the state Assembly that there was no harm in learning other languages. Hindi, Naidu noted, was useful for communication across India, particularly in political and commercial hubs like Delhi. His remarks, though avoiding explicit mention of the NEP, were widely seen as an endorsement of multilingualism and a rebuke to the linguistic chauvinism that has gripped parts of the South.


Few issues in India stir political passions quite like language. It is not merely a means of communication but a marker of identity, a relic of colonial resistance, and a source of political mobilization. In the southern states, where anti-Hindi sentiment has long been entrenched, the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020 and its three-language formula have reignited old tensions. No state embodies this defiance more than Tamil Nadu, where the ruling Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (DMK) led by M.K. Stalin has framed the policy as an assault on its linguistic autonomy.


Naidu’s words, welcomed by his ally and Deputy Chief Minister Pawan Kalyan, mark a sharp contrast with the DMK’s position. Tamil Nadu’s hostility towards Hindi dates back to the 1930s, when C. Rajagopalachari’s attempt to introduce it in schools met with fierce resistance. The anti-Hindi agitations of the 1960s cemented the DMK’s ideological stance, with its first Chief Minister, C.N. Annadurai, famously warning that Hindi imposition could push Tamil Nadu towards secession.


The question, however, is whether this rigid opposition serves Tamil Nadu’s interests. While Stalin, with an eye to the upcoming Tamil Nadu Assembly polls, has been relentlessly portraying Hindi as a threat to his state’s regional identity, Naidu, a partner of the BJP-led Centre, is framing it as a tool for economic mobility. His argument is not that Hindi should replace Telugu or English but that it offers a competitive advantage.


The economic case for multilingualism is compelling. Indians who speak multiple languages tend to have better job prospects, higher earnings and greater geographic mobility. Andhra Pradesh’s Telugu-speaking diaspora is a case in point. Telugus make up a significant proportion of Indian-origin professionals in the United States, the Gulf, and Southeast Asia as Naidu pointed out, hinting that this success story was built not on linguistic rigidity but on adaptability.


In a country where inter-state migration is rising and where Hindi remains the most widely spoken language, refusing to learn it amounts to self-imposed isolation. Tamil Nadu’s approach, by contrast, risks limiting its youth. The DMK government has refused to implement the three-language policy, keeping schools strictly bilingual with Tamil and English. Its justification that Hindi is not necessary for global success could be true in a narrow sense but ignores the domestic context. If Tamil filmmakers can dub their movies into Hindi to expand their audience, why should Tamil students be denied access to the language that could open more doors for them within India?


The DMK has accused successive central governments, particularly under the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), of pushing Hindi at the expense of regional languages. Yet, rejecting Hindi outright is an overcorrection. The reality is that Hindi is an important language in India’s economic and political landscape. Naidu’s position, one of accommodation rather than confrontation, offers a middle ground that other Southern leaders would do well to consider.


Some states already recognize this. Karnataka, despite its own history of linguistic pride, has allowed Hindi to be taught as an optional language. Kerala, whose migrants work in Hindi-speaking regions and the Gulf, has been less hostile to Hindi education. Naidu’s model, balancing regional identity with practical necessity, offers a way forward. Languages should be embraced, not politicized. Southern leaders would do well to listen to him.

Comments

bottom of page