CHAPTERS (to date)
Book Launch: Ashok explains why you should read his book.
Preface: The Ten Lies that killed Democracy
The First Lie: Liberalism
The Second Lie: Cosmopolitanism
The Third Lie: Progress
The Fourth Lie: Freedom and Liberty
Summary- Justice (pun intended):
In this chapter I write about the eternal problem of delivering justice, particularly in a liberal democratic society. I show how democracy, an imperfect and unwieldy system at the best of times, is riddled with contradictions and dilemmas. For instance an objective and egalitarian legal/ judicial system has to coexist with a political system that is based on popular (majority) sovereignty. So what happens when the majority or a vocal minority is upset with the delivery of justice? What happens when human subjectivity overrides legalistic objectivity? Finally I ask: are we expecting too much when we expect perfect justice?
I argue that justice is an ephemeral idea and that perfect justice will always be aspirational. Given our human limitations we would be better off treating it as the art of the possible —as we do politics.
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THE FIFTH LIE THAT KILLED DEMOCRACY - JUSTICE
by Ashok Panikkar
The Fifth Lie: Justice for some is justice for none.
Mr. Jacob was a man of high standards, and he was singularly unimpressed by my middling scholastic and sporting performances. Despite or perhaps because of this, I remained in awe of him and wanted to be in his good books. This made what happened between us even worse.
Even as an eleven-year-old with two years in boarding school and seven in the Indian educational/penal system, I was already acutely conscious of the vulnerabilities that came from being terminally dark-skinned, poor at math, and all-around weird. Hence, despite my obvious limitations, I worked hard to please teachers in at least one arena. I was infuriatingly punctual for my classes.
On most days, it took me 15 minutes to make the trek to the school from my family’s home, which was picturesquely situated at the bottom of the Ambalamugal valley and out of sight from the Cochin Oil Refinery’s chimney stacks. However, if forced to take my siblings to school with me, it took the better part of half an hour. Every morning my mom and the domestic help engaged in a high stakes battle to get my younger siblings, eight and six, ready for school. If they were running particularly late, she would drive them over to the school. Many was the day that our two-door sky-blue Standard Herald with my mom at the wheel would come tearing into the school driveway with the three of us inside just as the morning assembly was winding down, to the disapproving looks of the teachers and administrators.
On that fateful April morning, I was ready and almost out of the door by 8:15 am, well in time to exchange a few comic books with friends and to make it comfortably for the 9:00 am morning assembly, when my mom yelled, “Take the children with you.” My protestations were ignored as she directed a few home-truths in my direction about being scruffy, bad at math, and a lousy older brother. Realizing that I had missed the opportunity to make good my escape, I shuffled around and fretted, whining volubly about being late, missing the assembly, and pissing the teachers off. Just as we were about to leave, my brother needed to use the bathroom—once again—which put to rest any chances of me being on time and thus sealed my fate.
