Sharmila Chanu: beacon of hope or symbol of betrayal

Irom Sharmila or Sharmila Chanu began her fast in the year 2000 and instantly became an icon.  She soon became the symbol of liberation for those who were fighting state repression. When feminists all over the world were debating on how to facilitate women’s participation in activism for peace and security under the aegis of United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325, Sharmila took matters in her hands and began a fast against the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) in the backwaters of Manipur.  

Although the Naga Mothers were also agitating against AFSPA, it was Sharmila’s activism that brought AFSPA squarely into urban coffee table debates. She was the symbol of middle-class respectability, a figure of protest contained in a hospital ward.  She was our white dove and people soon forgot her revolutionary self that found the courage from nowhere to take on the mighty AFSPA.  

AFSPA was passed way back in 1958 and later amended in 1972.  It was a lift-off, with modifications, from the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Ordinance 1942 of British India.  Only in its present form, it is much harsher than the Ordinance.  AFSPA was created to suppress civil society, curb dissent, and legitimise state violence. As Khatoli Khala, a social activist informs us, “logic demanded that an India that fought against such powers would, when independent, get rid of such legislation.  Events, however, have proved the contrary.” 

Parliamentary debates bear testimony to the fact that when the Honourable Home Minister brought this bill to the floor in 1958 even the speaker was shocked. He said “Does the Honourable Minister feel that this is the procedure? He can shoot if it is a disturbed area and that is the procedure established by law? He can shoot [italics added].” Yet the Act was passed without a single amendment suggested from the floor.  Women from most of Northeast India are unanimous in their opinion that in terms of brutality the Act surpasses all others by severely militarising the region and unleashing an unforeseen culture of rape and relentless repression.  

That women’s reaction to AFSPA was not a product of feminine hysteria was proven by another event that took place in Manipur in 2004.  In the early hours of July 11 a young woman named Thangjam Manorama was allegedly raped, tortured and murdered by members of the Assam Rifles. 

Protest against AFSPA immediately took the character of a mass uprising.  The Meira Paibies were in the forefront of this protest. They created an assemblage of protesting organisation called Apunba Lup that was responsible for the spectacular naked protest of middle-aged women in front of the Kangla Fort carrying placards that said “Indian Army Rape Us.”.  Among all these events Sharmila Chanu resurfaced as a symbol of respectable protest and hope. Her Gandhian ways convinced many that even if all others fail Sharmila will succeed. That happened way back in 2004.

By 2012 women in India faced many new realities from which violence was never far removed. The December 2012 events in Delhi once again triggered debates over women and violence. The complexity of the situation was confirmed when even the Verma Committee was unable to address the issue of AFSPA and its effects on women.  Also, the new rape laws failed to address the question of rape with impunity by the armed forces. There were those, such as myself, who argued that to understand violence against women in the Indian mainland one needs to hark back to the violence faced by women in Northeast India and investigate if there is a continuum between what is happening for decades to women in Northeast India to what is happening to women in rest of the country today. Irom Sharmila resurfaced in our conversation as the symbol of women’s activism in Northeast.  But in Northeast India, new and somewhat disturbing realities were emerging.

My visit to Northeast in 2013 brought those realities starkly to the forefront of my consciousness and writings for which I was censured by some. 

We had heard that for the last one decade the Government of India was making targeted policies of development that would particularly benefit the women of Northeast.  The women were also embarking on a new diplomacy, siding sometimes with their erstwhile allies, and at other times with their previous antagonists. 

Many were shocked when the Naga Mothers' Association (NMA) brought a case against the HoHos because they were denied 33 per cent representation.  Old alliances over self-determination were crumbling and a new crop of women’s leadership was emerging. 

There were many like me who looked at these events with concern and wondered if the state machinery was finally succeeding in their appropriation of women’s voices.  With Sharmila ending her legendary fast, some say that we have come to the last act of that play. 

I, however, feel that in this case, the truth might be somewhat different. Sharmila is an extremely skillful political actor who has understood that for any change hereafter she needs a new arsenal.  In much of Northeast India people have become conscious that they can no longer shun electoral politics as an alien process.  To make changes women need to appropriate all space, albeit even the ones considered “dirty”.  For now, we should take the political activist by her word. 

Sharmila has always shown courage and more so now, than before, by coming out of a safe cocoon in the face of great opposition by those she considers her own, and challenging that the only respectable mode of protest for women is fasting.  Instead of shunning her, we ought to agree that there is no one way to peace. 

Perhaps, the conundrum is not so much hers but ours. Why are we so comfortable for a woman to be a symbol and so disturbed when she wants to be an agentive actor?

Paula Banerjee is Professor and Head of the Department of South and Southeast Asian Studies, University of Calcutta. She is also the Director of Calcutta Research Group.