Punjabi political identity

Sikh feelings of connection to the Punjab as an imagined geographical entity date to pre-independence politics (Oberoi 1987, 27), competing in a landscape dominated by communalism. The relationship between Sikhs and the British colonial government primarily operated through army life, as discussed below, and peasant relations, such as the construction of western Punjab’s canal colonies and the Land Alienation Act of 1900, which protected them from predatory moneylenders (Tatla 1999,16) In urban centres, Sikh elites used printed materials and education to promote the Sikh identity and rally the community politically (17).

The Akali Movement,² founded in 1914, was the community’s first modern political expression of communal desires, crystallising around opposition to British interference in the management of Gurdwaras (Sikh places of worship). By 1925, the community succeeded in having the British pass the Sikh Gurdwaras and Shrines Act, transferring control to a democratically elected Sikh body, the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee (Tatla 1999). The movement then acted as the primary representative of Punjab’s Sikh elites during negotiations surrounding India’s partition. Despite failing to secure an independent Punjab, Akalis quickly marked out an important space in Indian Punjabi politics as the Shiromani Akali Dal (SAD), a political party advocating for a state within the Indian union that would be dominated by speakers of the Punjabi language. This approach avoided the potentially inflammatory demand for a Sikh-dominated state, with the majority of the region’s Hindus claiming Hindi as their mother tongue. Success in achieving a Punjabi-speaking state was followed by further demands relating to the new state’s borders, access to river waters, possession of the planned-city of Chandigarh, and the position of the Punjabi language in neighbouring states (24).

During the three successive Akali coalition governments between 1967 and 1980, Punjab hosted the “Green Revolution”, a series of developments that drastically improved agricultural output but brought about rapid social change with some deleterious effects. The demand for the capital necessary to purchase the equipment, fertilizers, and other supplies disproportionately privileged those with already significant landholdings, and the replacement of farmhands with machinery increased the economic plight of the lower classes (Deol 2000). Many formerly ploughing their own small farms had to sell their land and become labourers (138), whilst competition with migrants from India’s poorer regions helped keep wages low (136). Infrastructure simultaneously improved to meet the demands of the new economy, linking small towns with the outside world and further extending the reach of the news media into rural areas (151).

The politics of the late 1970s and early 1980s in Punjab became quite inflammatory as different groups attempted to discredit the SAD’s claim to represent the Sikhs. It was in this context that the party issued the Anandpur Sahib Resolution, a reaffirmation of their positions on Punjabi autonomy, its economy, and legal privileges afforded to Sikhs. In order to counter the resulting civil movement demanding reforms, India’s Congress Party secretly began supporting Sikh groups with more extreme demands, thereby discrediting the SAD and winning support for their own local branch of the party (Tatla 1999, 27). Bhindranwale, who had built up a large following by preaching against casteism and promoting initiation into the Khalsa (Purewal 2000, 12 2), was at the centre of this strategy. His use of force to resolve conflicts and promote his ideology quickly made him a controversial figure (123), as did his fiery rhetoric against the central government.³ Even more disturbing were his threats against ordinary Hindus, leveraging the lives of thousands on the fulfilment of his political demands (Joshi 1984), and ordering the entire Hindu community to leave Punjab (148–149). All were considered suspect and he declared: “Any cap-wearer (Hindu) who comes to us, we should ask him: ‘Are you with us or not?’” (Sandhu 2011).

As Punjab spun out of control through a series of communal clashes, assassinations, and anti-government protests, Bhindranwale moved his men into the Golden Temple of Amritsar, the holiest shrine of the Sikhs, in 1982. He used this haven to continue giving fiery speeches and to further his political ascendency. Conditions worsened until Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi ordered the army on 5 June 1984 to remove Bhindranwale from the temple, a manoeuvre codenamed Operation Bluestar. The death of Bhindranwale alongside scores of innocents enraged the Sikh community and the operation failed to defuse the poisonous political atmosphere. Indira Gandhi was assassinated by her Sikh bodyguards on 31 October 1984. The court case against all four men involved made note of their open contempt for Indira Gandhi’s ordering of Operation Blue star (Register-Guard 1985).

Murderous anti-Sikh riots across Northern India followed the assassination, adding further strength to the message of militant groups in Punjab. The “riots” were anything but random and the Indian National Congress Party was directly tied to the chaos. In Delhi, their “goon networks” looted wealthy Sikh businesses and killed scores of innocents (Purewal 2000). Various commissions held to investigate the riots tied the party to the violence to varying degrees, but the implicated officials were not arrested, a fact that drew continuing condemnation from the Sikh community. Being minorities in the cities in which they were attacked, however, the Sikhs did not respond with organized violence of their own. Bolder and more militant voices gained support amongst the Sikhs of Punjab and the diaspora (Major 1987, 50), thereby adding further to the cycle of violence. It was not until the end of 1992 that these voices lost their appeal and the majority of militant activities were successfully curbed (Purewal 2000).

A significant amount of scholarship shows the economic and political forces that shaped the Punjab crisis, including the pressures introduced by the Green Revolution, Sikh ethnonationalism (Tatla 1999, 12), manipulation by landowners (Purewal 2000, 73), and the complexities of regional elites and their position relative to national elites (Chima 2010). Like other religious conflicts around the world, then, the Punjab Crisis was an expression of long-held political frustration boiling to the point of violence. In addition, Bhindranwale built up a considerable amount of support using religious rhetoric. While many of his followers were opportunistic criminals, most saw themselves as devout Sikhs.

Bhindranwale adopted a rigid stance in his condemnation of all those differing from the mainstream Khalsa Sikh narrative. He sought, for example, to ban the scriptures of a small Sikh sect, the Nirankaris, as well as to prohibit them from even meeting in Punjab (Chima 2010, 44). His rhetorical style was well-suited to the Punjabi cultural context, using shame and honour to promote the Khalsa image (Judge 2004, 3951). Furthermore, he was one of many at the time combining religious rhetoric and the use of “strongmen” to intimidate and eliminate opponents (Purewal 2000, 121). Points in speeches were always reinforced with quotes from scripture, and supporters would quickly rally in his support whenever he met with trouble. His arrest in 1981 due to events surrounding the assassination of a Hindu intellectual and publicist was met with bombings, shootings, the derailing of a train, and the hijacking of a plane (Chima 2010, 64).

In her book Fighting for Faith and Nation: Dialogues with Sikh Militants, Cynthia Keppley Mahmood demonstrates the crucial role religion played in the lives of some of the militants. One man makes reference to the strength he draws from Sikh martyrs, a topic of high frequency in Sikh preaching (Mahmood 1997, 37). He holds up the examples of the martyred Gurus as proof of how justice is attained through sacrifice (41). Other men make reference to the religiosity of fellow militants. One discusses early morning and pre-mission prayers, whilst another discusses his group’s leader, who refused to make use of men who did not have their prayers memorized (170). The cause was so potent in its appeal that it drew in members of the Sikh diaspora, who fought and died in Punjab for over a decade (157). As mentioned, the underlying causes for rebellion were rooted in the community’s perceived relationship with the state, further demonstrated by the mutiny and desertion of several thousand Sikh soldiers following Operation Bluestar (Tatla 1999, 28). It is impossible, however, to make any sweeping statements about ideology as the central cause; militants were anything but organized, a fact demonstrated not only by the multiplicity of named organizations taking part in the violence, but also by the opportune participation of numerous criminal and smuggling groups (Major 1987, 55).

Sikhs were also involved on the other side of the conflict, fighting against the Khalistani militants. Major General Kuldip Singh Brar led the attack on the Golden Temple during Operation Bluestar, and Kanwar Pal Singh Gill led the Punjab police force to success throughout the late 1980s and early 1990s. General Brar justified the government’s forceful action in 1984 by pointing to earlier efforts to peacefully evict the “terrorists” from the complex, and by accusing the men of defiling the temple, issuing death warrants against innocents, and receiving “foreign assistance” from Pakistan and China (Associated Press 1984). Director General Gill argues that the religious dimension was merely a grab for power, and that the militants never truly enjoyed popular support and were often interested only in personal gain (Gill 2012). Naturally, many in his police force were Sikhs, which supports his point about the militants not enjoying support amongst all Indian co-religionists. Many Sikhs may have been merely hedging their bets to see which side would prevail. The high enrolment numbers of Sikhs in the Indian military (see below) also lends credibility to his argument. Clearly, the events of 1984 were not so potent as to sever all sense of attachment within the community to the Indian state.

In the diaspora there was tremendous support for the Khalistan movement and utter outrage at India’s attack on Sikhism’s most holy shrine. Though this response has almost always been expressed without violating the laws in effect in the diaspora’s respective countries, the diaspora has also been a backdrop for extremism. In Canada, a group of Sikhs based in British Columbia, members of “Babbar Khalsa”, placed a bomb aboard Air India Flight 182, killing 329 people on 23 June 1985. Conspiracy theories abound that the entire incident was either masterminded or aided by Indian intelligence in an effort to discredit the Sikhs, but solid evidence for such an explanation has never emerged. Numerous men were implicated in the event, but Inderjit Singh Reyat was the only man ever convicted by Canadian courts. Any discussion around motives cannot be reinforced by solid evidence, though Ajaib Singh Bagri, one of the men eventually acquitted by the courts, is on record as saying, “Until we kill 50,000 Hindus, we will not rest” (Milewski 2007).

With the end of the Punjab crisis, the majority of Sikhs abandoned any hope for creating an independent state. However, in the Sikh diaspora some communities continue to lend such ideology significant weight. Many supporters were born abroad, never directly witnessing the hardship endured by the community during the government’s anti-insurgency campaign, though many members within the diaspora have connections through kinship or friendship with those who suffered or fled as refugees. Lavish displays of support for Khalistani militants are still common at public events (Milewski 2007) as well as in Gurdwaras. Many martyrs of the movement, including the two assassins of Indira Gandhi, are celebrated in speeches and in artwork.

During the insurrection, Sikh militants acted for a variety of reasons, many relating more to Sikhism as an identity than as a religion, a state of affairs all-too-common in the realm of communal politics. Sikhism’s traditional use of martyrdom in its rhetoric served as a useful vehicle for motivating these men to continue their struggle against forces that they perceived as threatening against the community’s very existence. Ultimately, however, the movement failed; a combination of severe government crackdown with a major effort at political resolution between the central government and regional elites, as well as the constant suffering of rural and low-class Punjabis (Purewal 2000), doomed the separatist movement to failure. Those Sikh warriors who had fought on behalf of the security forces were the victors of that struggle. The election and re-election of Manmohan Singh as Prime Minister (2004–2014), the first Sikh to serve in that office, was also a major step forward for Sikhs in mainstream Indian politics.

The struggle abroad over kesh and  kirpan

Kesh (uncut hair) is the most outwardly-oriented symbols of the Sikhs, a clear marker of identity. Within the community, it is a frequent source of controversy; those who wish to assert the strength of their piety have long used kesh to do so, whether for political reasons or otherwise. Some have located the vitality of the community in this symbol and have argued that hair cutting is the first step to Sikhism’s wider decline. The diaspora has been at the forefront of such defensive arguments due to the increased social pressure on them to abandon the symbol in their non-native lands. Irrespective of initiatory status, Sikhs have come together to fight for the right for community members to keep their hair uncut, especially in the context of employment, especially in security-related professions.

The turban has been banned in various contexts in countries across the Western world, stimulating a variety of different responses. The famous 2004 French ban of all religious symbols in government schools included the Sikh turban, which was initially met with the assertion that it is a cultural symbol, not a religious one (Sciolino 2004). The theological problems associated with taking such a position, as well as the lack of success in the court system, led to the abandonment of that argument. In 2012, the UN Human Rights Committee heard the case of Ranjit Singh, who argued against the French government’s refusal to grant official ID to men who would not remove the turban for photo identification. This was judged to be a violation of religious freedoms, but this judgement has not led to a concrete change in French law (Neiyyar 2012).

The United States has also seen its share of controversy around the turban. In the security-obsessed post-9/11 climate of the United States, special training courses in numerous airports were modified to include information about the importance of the kirpan, but not about kesh (Wald 2002). Despite the installation of body scanners in airports across the country, Sikhs continue to be targeted by security staff; turbans are patted down and swabbed for any chemical residue that may indicate the presence of an explosive device (Maguire 2010). Perhaps the most notable case occurred in 2010, when the Indian ambassador to the United Nations, Hardeep Puri, was detained after refusing to remove his turban at an airport in Houston, Texas (“‘Turban check’ on Indian envoy at US airport sparks row” 2010).

In Canada, the most noteworthy case relating to kesh was the controversy surrounding a Sikh man’s attempt to make the turban a part of his uniform as an officer in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). A group of retired RCMP officers took the man to court in an attempt to maintain the traditional uniform, simultaneously making a set of theological arguments against the necessity of the turban and attempting to demonstrate its reflection of militancy. The lawsuit failed, and Khalsa Sikhs today face no opposition by the RCMP in wearing the turban (Judge 2003, 1730). Other points of controversy have been a helmet exemption whilst riding motorcycles and in regard to entitlement to worker’s compensation (1727).

The place of the kirpan in Western society has been the subject of discussion and some controversy in several nations. The Sikhs interpret the significance of the kirpan in various ways, whether as a reminder of the Sikh responsibility to uphold justice or as a literal weapon to be used when absolutely necessary. The Sikh Coalition, a prominent civil rights group in the United States, acknowledges both the symbolic and utilitarian dimensions of the symbol: it is “a reminder to fight against injustice and oppression”, and it “is only intended [for Sikhs] to protect themselves or others” (The Sikh Coalition 2017). Amar Jit Singh Chandi writes about the kirpan, arguing that it was made a symbol with great foresight and pragmatism, as Sikhs have long been using the kirpan to defend both themselves and others (Chandi 2010). In Canada, it was only in 2007 (Grewal 2007) that CN Rail decided to allow the kirpan onto its trains after two incidents involving the ejection of a Sikh law student (Shariff and Shariff 2006, 491), though the cases most scrutinized in the public eye involve the Quebec school system. A kirpan case involving a Montreal student, Gurbaj Singh Multani, received considerable attention across the country, touching on issues of secularism and accommodation within Quebec society. After conflicting decisions from both the board and school governing council, a court declared the legality of the kirpan if it were worn under clothing, contained in a secure wooden scabbard, open to inspection, never to be withdrawn, and reported if lost (Smith 2006, 92). The provincial attorney general intervened and, after some further legal wrangling, the case was taken up before the Supreme Court of Canada. After endorsing its symbolic meaning and rejecting the rhetoric around the expected arming of non-Sikh students in response, the court declared the kirpan one weapon amongst many in a classroom environment (scissors, compasses, etc.) and ruled that accommodating the kirpan does not place unfair hardship on school officials (104–105).

Though Khalsa Sikhs have the support of Canada’s Supreme Court within the school system, Quebecois society has by no means accepted the kirpan. On 18 January 2011, Sikhs wearing their kirpans were barred from entering the Quebecois legislature, a move lauded by the Parti Québécois as an example of Quebec standing up for its cultural values (Toronto Star 2011). Elsewhere in Canada, physical altercations involving the kirpans of both children (Chung 2009) and adults (Aulakh 2008) have caught the attention of the press. Sikhs abroad therefore continue in their struggle to educate the public about their traditions and seek the right to adhere to the Khalsa ideal without legal hindrance.

Other civil rights issues

Sikhs abroad have strongly advocated for the rights of Indian Sikhs who suffered during the brutal crackdown post-Bhindranwale and have tried to build awareness around those who perished in the retaliatory attacks following Indira Gandhi’s assassination. Much of this work revolves around educating the wider public of these historical events and a large amount of effort is expended to recognize the “Anti-Sikh Riots” as a “genocide” perpetrated by the Indian National Congress party. Recognition of past wrongs should serve to increase pressure on the Indian government to prosecute those involved. It also reminds Sikh youth of the struggles faced by the community.

Sikh youth play a notable role in these diasporic organizations. For example, the Sikh Activist Network, a Canadian “Youth Movement for Peace, Love, and Justice”, aims to empower Sikh youth, combat the influence of drugs and gang violence, and establish an atmosphere of dialogue within the community (Sikh Activist Network 2017). The front page of their website links to articles about legal internships, the 1984 Sikh genocide, anti-racism initiatives, and updates on the Rajoana issue (see below). Another important Canadian group is the World Sikh Organization (WSO), which has been advocating for the Sikh community since 1984. Besides working on initiatives similar to those of the Sikh Activist Network, the WSO works with various official bodies to spread awareness about Sikhism, including police departments such as the Toronto Police Service (Singh 2012). Other such organizations include United Sikhs, an international group associated with the United Nations, and The Sikh Foundation, a group based out of the United States which goes to great lengths to promote Sikh heritage, art, and various publications.

The power of these organizations to mobilize the diaspora was on full display in March 2012, when the community inside India and across the world united to oppose the execution of Balwant Singh Rajoana, an accomplice in the assassination of Beant Singh, Punjab’s Chief Minister, in 1995. Pointing to the lack of justice for Sikhs relative to those committing violence against the community, Sikh organizations worldwide called on Sikhs to protest in support of Rajoana, despite the man himself never having requested that his execution be stayed; he believed a request for clemency would demonstrate his recognition of the Indian government’s legitimacy. Sikhs expanded their protests to rally against the death penalty itself, and Rajoana’s supporters wore orange as a show of support. Rajoana’s execution, originally scheduled for 31 March 2012, has been stayed as a result of the unrest it precipitated in Punjab. The police response to protests in the city of Gurdaspur resulted in the death of an 18-year-old Sikh, and tensions escalated between right-wing Hindu and Sikh groups. The language of martyrdom which quickly arose surrounding the youth’s death exemplifies the dangerous communalism constantly underlying South Asian politics.