In the constitutions of most developed democracies, the word ācitizenā appears much later in the text, never in the first paragraph.
The one major exception to this is the Indian Constitution. Here, unlike all others, the term ācitizenā makes its first appearance in the first sentence, that is, in the Preamble itself. In this department, even the French Constitution is second best to ours as it mentions ācitizenā for the first time in Article 1, though still not in the first paragraph, certainly not in the Preamble.
Like the American Constitution, ours too begins with the ringing words, āWe the Peopleā¦., but that is where the similarity ends. While the word ācitizenā appears in our Constitution before the sentence is over, one has to wait longer in the American book for this word to make an entry. Other Constitutions employ the term much later: the Italian Constitution in Article 3; the Spanish in Section 9; the Swedish in Chapter 2, and, in the German, it is way down in Article 16. The Constitution of the Netherlands does not mention the word ācitizenā at all and but uses the term āDutch Nationalā everywhere. In comparison to us, others seem to have woken up days later.
The Significance of Citizenship
Without getting too involved with Indiaās specific history and circumstances, the chronological shift from people to citizen is maintained in democratic constitutions. This is because when the task of framing a document of citizenship was begun, the authors were still people, waiting to be transformed to citizens, but only after the Constitution was approved. The Irish Constitution puts it plainly when it announces that: āWe the people of Eire ⦠give to ourselves this Constitution.ā
Why is this emphasis on ācitizenshipā so important? So much of our understanding of contemporary societies is defined by the study of nations and nationalism (Renan 1990; Hobsbawm 1990) but, useful as they are, we need to press more energetically on the question of citizenship. Today, democracy is the credo that dominates the political life of large swathes of the globe and holds out a promise to many more. At the same time, the specifics of ācitizenshipā and its umbilical tie with democracy are not emphasized enough. This gives rise to a number of misconceptions. It is often confused with majority rule; sometimes with national passions, pure and simple; sometimes also with the simple act of popular franchise.
All of these renditions are incorrect because citizenship can be violated in a democracy that gives majority opinion the ultimate pride of place and not the inviolable rights of citizens. One does not have to think too hard to find examples of this phenomenon; Hitlerās Germany comes immediately to mind. One, this is understood, other distortions to democracy are easy to understand such as those associated with majority rule and nationalism. At the same time, it must be noted, that while citizenship promises equality, this is strictly about equality of opportunity and not equality of results.
There is no better scholar than T.H. Marshall on this subject. Marshall clarified that citizenship is about conferring equality of status on all and on that basis allows structures of inequality to develop (Marshall 1950/1990, 1975, 1977; see also Turner 1993). To quote Marshall:
āDifferential statusā¦was replaced by the single uniform status of citizenship, which provided the foundation of equality on which the structure of inequality may be builtā (Marshall 1950/1990: 34).
Citizenship, therefore, does not mean that we should all be the same, think the same and live in the same way. Nor does it mean that everybody should earn the same income (ibid: 56). But there is a āsingle uniform statusā at the starting point which then promotes differences and, indeed, inequality too. This outcome, however, is far from being offensive. It neither advocates equality as sameness, nor does it allow for differential outcomes based on birth and privilege. This gives the notion of equality of opportunity a sound basis for it does not compromise freedom to grow and develop according to oneās choices and abilities.
In Marshallās view, the fundamental premise of citizenship is the promise that all must have access to the basics for independent, individual growth. This position is in consonance with the establishment of universal delivery of health, education and other such public goods. Once this happens, we have the opportunities to develop differentially as per oneās circumstance; some may end up prosperous, some may not; some may lead happy lives and others not quite that way.
Consequently, citizenship will bring about a degree of respect as all of us have an overwhelming common factor which acts as a basis of our social being. The accidents of birth, whether of privilege, gender or location, will not determine our social profiles. That would depend on our own ability to achieve in whichever direction we wish to exert ourselves. This is why citizenship must embrace respect for all forms of beliefs, practices, ideologies and sentiments. The right to be different is inviolable, and that nobody can take that away, as long as the rights of others are equally respected.
It is this basic equality in access of universal services that results in a robust sense of inter-subjectivity, or trading of places, and this happens quite spontaneously. As we begin with the same building blocks, it is easier to appreciate and understand how others live. If one section of the population enjoys certain basic freedoms, so must others. Ultimately, it is the observance of this ethic that ensures a self-censoring freedom which keeps us from compromising the freedoms of others.
A consequence of this is the recognition of others as being our ethical equals even if we have no in-depth information of their background. This is a defining feature of citizenship as much as it is of modernity. As a result, wherever citizenship flourishes, modernity does too. The trouble is that neither citizenship, and with it modernity, happen naturally. They require assiduous attention to detail and careful planning from above to take root. We shall come back to this theme later, but it is important to make it clear right now that citizenship is a self-conscious move and is informed by a value that is completely new in human history.
That we beat all other constitutions in developed democracies in employing the term ācitizenā so early in the text of our Constitution, must surely mean we were on to something. We were not starting with democracyās initial conditions but with those features that advanced democracies have left us with. In addition, our recent pre-Independence history probably put our antenna up because of the success with which the British often divided the Indian āpeopleā. This must have prompted our Constitution makers to make the transition to ācitizenā quick as they did not find a dependable ally in the āpeopleā. The very āpeopleā who helped make our nation Independent could also succumb to calls of passion and fragment under different banners.
The threat of the āpeopleā came up at different junctures even in the making of the Constitution. What about the āpeopleā from the 565 Princely states? Should not the Constitution be vetted by a referendum of the āpeopleā? And, yes, what about the many particular customs of āpeople, like caste, marriage norms, religious taboos, that run counter to some of the universal claims of ācitizenshipā? Did not the language question separate us into āpeoplesā?
The quick transition to ācitizenshipā put many of these problems to rest. We started the Constitution with the phrase, āWe, the people of Indiaā¦,ā but we could have just as easily begun with āWe, the citizens of Indiaā¦.ā The General Elections of 1952, where voters participated as citizens, gave the Constitution an acceptance more profound that what a peoplesā referendum might have done. The princely states too were speedily integrated, even though some potentates dressed up their people in battle gear. Again, on the question of language policy, one saw a level of give and take that only citizens are capable of. As these were weighty considerations, we took about three years to craft our Constitution, while the Americans spent less than four months.
Given the fact that a technical shift from āpeopleā to ācitizenā was so central, and urgent, in our circumstances, we fired up a flare seeking out legal help. It is not surprising then that besides T.T. Krishnamachari, all other members of the Drafting Committee were lawyers. Led by none other than Dr B.R. Ambedkar, the Constitution stayed above narrow hostilities and idiosyncratic procedures, so typical of the everyday life of āpeople. Even hallowed ancient legal texts, from the Manusmriti to the Sharia, speak in different voices because they freely mix metaphor with allegory. Undoubtedly, these qualify as āpeoplesā documents, even heritage, some might say; but not one of them would pass the test of citizenship. In this context one cannot but admire the specific contributions of Alladi K. Aiyar and Gopalswami Iyenger.
Obviously, ācitizensā do not come off the shelf, readymade, as āpeopleā do. But be warned; sentiments that can both blind and bind people at any one time can also be notoriously fickle. Today it can be clan ties, tomorrow alien soil, the day after a remembered hero; in fact, stitching up any set of loose buttons will do. An untidy jumble of the past, complete with humiliation, and victory, is enough to make a nation (of people), but not a democracy (of citizens), least of all, citizens.
No doubt, āpeopleā make a nation-state, but it is not infectious love, but hatred towards a foreign power, or a despot, that spurs them on. But once that rule, or ruler, is overthrown, they find it difficult to stay together for all the old tensions reappear. Holding on to āpeopleā after a nation is made is no easy task. Note, for instance, the tone of despair in Massimo dāAzeglio, the 19th century, Turin born artist and statesman, when he wrote in his autobiography: āNow that we have made Italy, let us make Italiansā (Hobsbawm 1988: 110). It immediately became one of the best known quotes of the day.
āPeopleā and nations, everywhere need a good enemy to bond, not good friends. āCitizenshipā, on the other hand, proceeds in the reverse direction; it does not seek out enemies, but friends contrary to the dynamics of ethnic and primordial formations The ties that unite citizens are those of āfraternityā whose basic credo is not enmity with others, or set up culture specific boundary walls, but mutual self-respect. Citizenship is self-sufficient; it sets targets for itself and does not need an external body to hate or hurt.
This is why, unlike āpeopleā oriented activists, our Constitution makers must have thought: Now that we have made Indians, let us make them citizens!ā
Those nation-states that clearly saw that there was really no end to finding reasons to divide (see Anderson 1983), wisely decided to transcend to another level and seek citizenship instead. After all, once the people had rid themselves of their oppressors, what now exists to keep them together? As there were so many pre-existing distinctions in the ranks, keeping up a united front from now on was not going to be an easy task. The fissures that stayed submerged when as people they deposed the common foe, take on a life of their own afterwards and cannot be brushed aside. Old historical memories, variations in cultural practices, or regional linguistic differences, can easily come out from between the cracks and become major divisive factors.
Some other identity is now needed to act as the cementing force and that is the rationale behind constitutions creating citizens. In this move, certain elements of the past had to be forgotten. This was important because it is hard to find a period in the centuries gone by that did not see warfare among those who are now one āpeopleā. These memories could easily be watered to sprout more dissent and internecine conflagrations. A halt had to be put to this so that the happy memories of uniting in a national struggle together could be preserved.
The surest way of achieving this is by swearing allegiance to a constitution that now binds the partisans of the earlier quest, but this time as citizens. The cementing factor is no longer ācommon hurtā but ācommon respectā and this can only be achieved by āuniversalā law. āCitizenshipā seeks common ground by reaching out in friendship quite unlike what brought about the unity among people in a nation. Citizenship does not seek enemies, as people do in their nationalist phase, but proceeds in the reverse direction; it looks out friends, instead. The ties that unite citizens are those of āfraternityā whose basic credo mutual self-respect. Citizenship is self-sufficient project; it sets targets for itself and does not need an external body to hate or hurt.
When this distinction is blurred, several distortions occur. First, at the ideological-political level and, second, at the policy-planning level. In the following pages we shall take into account both these aspects, but to make headway in this endeavour we must constantly steel ourselves from being seduced by the appeals of nationalism.
From Nationalism to Citizenship
The fact that the idea of a nation-state is made up of multiple narratives, or strands, is true not just about India but elsewhere in the world as well, including Europe. This is where we need to be careful. While many of these accounts usefully contribute to the actual making of a nation-state, we cannot just stop there (see Marshall 1950/1990: 41). The move from being a nation-state to a democratic-state is not an easy task. In this crucial transition it no longer pays to indulgently display oneās culture and history, and other like narratives, but to be self-conscious about citizenship. In this process a few cherished histories, heritages, myths, legends and legacies of great men and women have to be kept pragmatically aside. While some of these articulations may build a sense of community, such as that of belonging to a nation, they are frequently unhelpful if a liberal democratic constitution is to be successfully framed and lived by.
Nation-stateā narratives, as we underscored earlier, are about blood, soil, wars, sacrifices, gods, goddesses, religious sites, texts, etc. ā all of which are usually a distraction when it comes to crafting a sense of unified and equal citizenship. While these tales of cultural heroics and religious virtues may create ardent nationalists, but nationalists are not always mindful of the ethics of ācitizenship. If this value is absent, or present only in a lifeless form then all we have is a nation-state, but no democracy. It is necessary to emphasize this for citizenship is hard to imbibe but without it there is no liberal democracy (Marshall 1950/1990: 33).
In fact, in the making of a democratic nation-state many pure nation-state narratives may need to be undermined, if not outright erased and denied (Anderson 1983). Post-colonial India did just that with its Republican Constitution when it abolished untouchability, majoritarian privileges and feudal authority. We must also learn to forget many aspects of the past if we have to fashion an actually functioning democratic future. So from a democratic perspective, it is not as if histories, myths and traditions are always positive, though they might help to super-charge a self-righteous nationalism.
There are different versions of what makes for a ānation-stateā, and there are also diverse ways of getting there. What they all have in common is that they galvanize their local cultures in one form or another, allowing for some aspects, denying other features and highlighting a select few. So it is not as if in the making of a nation-state, each aspect of the past gets expression: some do and some do not (Anderson 1983). In other words, at the end of the day there is no āyellow brick roadā or a privileged route in becoming a nation-state. We all come to it in our unique and specific manner. For example, when France became France only 18% of the population there spoke French. When Italy became Italy, only 2% of the population spoke Italian.
It is, therefore, easier to establish a nation-state than to actually go the distance and create its citizens. Without liberal democracy no nation-state can be said to have fully arrived. In India too we have been wrestling with this project, since Independence, taking a few steps forward and then moving back. There are so many languages, histories and traditions that often work at cross-purposes making the mission of creating Indian citizens quite a challenge. When we began to consider ourselves as āIndians, we tried to harness our multiple energies in such a manner that it would strengthen the unitary concept of nation-state, but what good would this be if we were not democratic at the same time? Yes, it is true that we had a huge job ahead of us. We had to bring a sense of unity as we were till recently, that is until the anti-colonial struggle bound us, multiple peoples with multiple cultures. Liberal democracy was still far away.