Sachin Tendulkar’s first political stand
statement, Tendulkar finally took a political stand, striking a chord with Ali
and Owens. But what is it that deters our sportsmen from being politically
outspoken?
After keeping quiet for two decades on anything that
appeared even remotely sensitive, last week Sachin Tendulkar delivered his
version of Aliâs I ainât got no quarrel with them Vietcong remark.
“Mumbai belongs to India, thatâs how I look at it. Iâm extremely
proud to be a Maharashtrian, but I am an Indian first,” said Tendulkar.
The Mumbai-for-all remark was a departure from all those years of
silence. And itâs not just Tendulkar. If Indian sports stars have a common
trait, itâs being apolitical. So why did he take this figurative leap that
evening? No one can answer that except Tendulkar. But whatever the cause, the
remark got the Shiv Sena chief all worked up. He warned Tendulkar “to keep off
the political pitch” for his own well-being. Tendulkar may have angered Bal
Thackeray, but with his one statement he aligned himself with the Muhammad Ali
and the Jesse Owens of the sporting world. His words became representative of
larger constituencies. And by speaking his mind, many say, he reinvented
himself.
Tendulkarâs silence, and now his statement, only
reiterates an abiding question: why has India, which has seen wars and riots,
battled communalism and casteism, failed to produce a sports icon of defiance?
For all the sportsmen and women who have come from humble backgrounds and
oppressed classes, why have we not produced any symbol of protest? Why
donât we have an Ali?
“This is a major failure of Indian
sports,” says sociologist Ashis Nandy. “During the colonial times we were
brainwashed into believing that sports was apolitical in nature. That it was not
right to let politics enter sports.” And even after Independence, Nandy says, we
didnât change. “The only politics which seemed valid to us was the
politics of nationalism. Apart from the time when India refused to play with
South Africa because of apartheid, weâve never been political,” he says.
In 1975, when the Emergency was clamped, “writers, artists, social
scientists protested” but bureaucrats and sportsmen kept away. “Sportspersons
did not open their mouths during the anti-Sikh riots or during the Gujarat
riots,” says Nandy.
But sportsmen steering away from politics is
perhaps a trend thatâs not limited to India. Says Prof Vinay Lal, lecturer
of history at the University of California, Los Angeles, and author of Of
Cricket, Guiness and Gandhi: Essays on Indian History and Culture: “It is true
that our sportsmen and sportswomen have never taken strong stands on political
matters, but I would say that this is by and large the case all over the world.
The case of Muhammad Ali might seem different but Ali had converted to Islam,
and, in some respects, had already become marginal to American society. Even
without the conversion, let us not forget that as a black man Ali already stood
at the margins, and therefore was emboldened to take some risks”.
Lal says the example of Jesse Owens too has to be viewed within
broader geopolitics. Owens became a living repudiation of Nazi racial ideology
and “was almost thrust into becoming a political symbol”. Lal adds: “I think we
would be hardpressed to find white sportsmen and sportswomen in the West who
have been spokespersons, eloquent or otherwise, against injustice,
discrimination, and racism.”
Both Ali and Jesse Owens became symbols
of the fight against injustice and racial oppression with the “knowledge that
they had, or would have, a world audience”.
Indian sportspersons, on
the other hand, lack that visibility on a global platform. “I suspect also that
they have only in recent years come into money in a big way, and they are
probably loath to jeopardise their commercial interests by appearing to take
political positions,” says Lal.
Ace shooter Abhinav Bindra agrees.
Sportspersons need the support of the establishment. “Trying to support even
non-sports issues could come in the way of your progress. Letâs focus on
producing world class sports icons. When we do that, hopefully weâll be
able to produce sports icons of defiance,” he says.
Social scientist
Shiv Visvanathan points out that Indian sports may not have a symbol of protest
at present but it has had sportspersons in the past who have spoken their minds.
“There was Ranjit Singh and Duleep Singh, who objected to Bodyline. Lala
Amarnath too. But that was during the colonial era,” says Visvanathan. “None of
our sportsmen had strong political views after that. There are cricketers and
others now who wear a black band for AIDS and tiger conservation but
thatâs social work and not a political statement.” Cricket, in particular,
and sports in general in India, is a sign of mobility rather than a search for
justice, Visvanathan says.
“When Mohun Bagan beat the British
football team (East Yorkshire Regiment, 1911 IFA Shield final), it was a
political statement against the Queen. In 1936, when Dhyan Chandâs team
beat the Nazis, it was a statement. Post Independence there were no statements.
It started changing from 1960. Commercialisation killed it,” insists
Visvanathan.
Of course, Sunil Gavaskar refusing the MCC membership
in 1990 because a steward had once returned him from the gates of Lordâs,
too can be considered to be a political statement of sorts, but it was Sourav
Gangulyâs shirt-waving on the Lordâs balcony that captured the
imagination, post-Independence.
“He understood the symbolism of
politics,” says Visvanathan of Ganguly.
“Taking his shirt off at the
Natwest Trophy was a political statement against the Whites. By removing his
shirt, Ganguly said we got a six-pack mentality of cricket. Bhutia is another
example but he is a meek fighter and sports is anyway regionalised in India.
Hockey is not big enough now. It will not capture the imagination if some hockey
player was to revolt. So Indian sports is a politics of a silent movie. There is
no speech involved here,” adds the sociologist.
