Are we Indians too self-centred?
Jawhar Sircar
(New Indian Express, 1 April 2021)
Whenever someone is pulled up for jumping the queue at, say,
passport counters in international airports, we are embarrassed—as it is almost
always an Indian or an equally insensitive person from our immediate
neighbours. As soon as a plane lands or a train stops, everyone jumps up and
seems to be in a tearing hurry, jostling with co-passengers, to get out. It may
sound too sweeping to brand an entire people as too restlessly self-centred,
but we all know that it is quite true. We are not arguing that others may not
be self-obsessed; we are only trying to understand why most of us appear to be
so inconsiderately pushy.
In 1976, Richard Dawkins created quite a stir with his The
Selfish Gene, where he declared that winning genes are self-reinforcing and
spread faster and greater because they succeed in achieving their tasks. He
also introduced the theory of ‘memes’ describing them as elements of a culture
or systems of behaviour that are passed from one individual to another—by
imitation. As in the physical world, in society too ‘memes’ or imitational
behaviour spread more voluminously if they achieve their targeted gains.
Applying this trait to our society, we may put it rather simply and surmise
that everyone pushes around as those who pushed first profited in their
objective. They were not reprimanded despite violating normal decency and
patience, and they succeeded in moving forward, even at the cost of causing
discomfort to others. On the other hand, Dutch historian Rutger Bergman argues
in his recent book, Humankind, that humans are not as intrinsically selfish as
believed. He insists, after considerable mapping of humans and their actions,
that acts of kindness are also powerfully contagious.
What then triggers the ‘me-first’ attitude among Indians that
really stands out more in international comparisons? Honking cars unnecessarily
is just another aspect of this same inconsiderate social behaviour. The same
person would be driving perfectly quietly, without blowing his horn, if he were
abroad and there he would abide by the consensus or face heavy fines and public
scorn. The same unconcerned disposition is quite visible in the practice of
keeping our homes as clean as possible but bothering little about littering
public places and thoroughfares. Before we go deeper in examining why our
inclinations differ so sharply when it comes to ‘common concerns’, let us also
analyse the notable international sporting events where Indians have won
medals. We are talking of the Olympics (woefully few medals), Commonwealth Games,
Asian Games and such other prestigious championships.
We discover that almost all of these medals were for
individual excellence—shooting, wrestling, boxing, athletics, badminton,
tennis, weightlifting, chess, swimming and so on. Yes, we have won medals in
team games like hockey, which is really an exception to this ‘rule’. Our
post-colonial obsession with cricket is thanks to the incredible amount of
investment made in the game and in its seductive and addictive televising. The
point is that we seem to excel where we have to fight it alone, whereas where
we need to work as a team, say, in football, a nation of 1.3 billion has not
yet produced its ‘eleven’ for top class international football.
The whole idea of this little exercise is not to denigrate but
to try to understand the phenomenon. One possible reason is evident in the most
populous religion on this subcontinent, on which base ‘grew’ other later
religions. The mad rush at many temples and other sacred sites during festivals
and pilgrimages is certainly not for the faint-hearted. And frankly, while
everyone jostles, elbows and tramples over everyone else, we pray only for our
welfare and prosperity and, of course, for our family. This, again, needs to be
appreciated as an act of seeking ‘individual salvation’ ,not necessarily (or
rarely) for the community. Abrahamic religions, on the other hand, emphasise
communitarian brotherhood, while we are genetically programmed to obtain our
own good, come what may. The lavish gifts or daana at the temples are often
quite transactional in nature, and piety is quite purchasable—as in some
churches.
How else would a completely unorganised religion that has no
Vatican, no one Bible, no agreed cadre of preachers survive through so many
millennia—had it not been for the mandate to pay for the services of the priest
and the ritual practitioner? The latter belonged to one varna or caste group
and were often quite captive within a society that demanded that they do not
seek better vocations. We are, of course, referring to the prescribed norm. The
short point is that this priesthood needed its clients and benefactors. They
served them by connecting them directly to the Almighty, even if it warranted
shoving others out of the way. What we need to note is that this class
succeeded in uniting an incredibly diverse country by injecting common beliefs
and rituals.
It is quite possible that we inherited this socially accepted
behaviour that shaped our cultural genes and stamped our ‘memes’, which, in
turn, left its indelible mark on our general attitude to life. The ‘community’
emerged much later—during the Bhakti movement, with bhajans and other
institutions. But the core attitude continued to be self-oriented even when we
became more inclusive and egalitarian.
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