An outsider’s perspective on the Sikh
radicalism in West that that has failed to subside even three decades after Op
Bluestar, Jonathan Kay writes in National Post, a Canadian newspaper, that
murderous violence has become institutionalized within radical Sikh circles and
that this radicalism, and the general schisming of the Sikh diaspora into
Khalistani and non-Khalistani factions, is damaging Sikhism as much as anything
that happened in 1984.
The words ‘Operation Bluestar’
are little known in the West. But in South Asia, the Indian army’s June, 1984
invasion of the Sikh Golden Temple in Amritsar is considered one of the most
important, and infamous, events in the region’s modern history. Many Sikh
activists call it a “massacre” — and even compare it to the Sikh holocaust
perpetrated by the Mughals 250 years ago. To this day, Bluestar represents a
rallying point for Sikh militants seeking greater autonomy from India.
In truth, bloody though it was,
Bluestar cannot be called a deliberate pogrom. In the years leading up to the
assault, Sikh separatists and radicals had turned much of the Punjab into a war
zone — with peaceable Sikhs being the primary victims of the chaos. Amidst the
upheaval, the Golden Temple — which contains the holy text of Sikhism, the Guru
Granth Sahib — was taken over by Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale, a charismatic Sikh
fundamentalist (some saw him as a full-on prophet) who’d surrounded himself by
gun-wielding zealots.
Indira Gandhi, the Prime Minister
(who later paid with her life for the events that would unfold at her command
in 1984) realized that the situation in Punjab was untenable. Some feared that
Pakistan, which already was making common cause with India’s hardline Sikhs,
would recognize the independence of a breakaway Khalistani state, should one be
declared, and send soldiers into Indian territory. Khalistani separatists were
beginning to distribute their own currency. It was clear that taking the temple
back from the zealots was a national imperative for India. And so Gandhi sent
in the army.
Bhindranwale and hundreds of his
fighters went down fighting inside the temple compound. Many innocents —
pilgrims whom Bhindranwale effectively had taken hostage — also were among the
victims. The Indian military estimated that about 500 civilians died in the
crossfire. Unofficial tallies are an order of magnitude higher.
Yet Bluestar was in no way
intended as a campaign of extermination by Hindus against Sikhs, even if that
is how it is sometimes presented in propaganda tracts. In fact, the military
commander of the Bluestar operation was himself a Sikh: Lieutenant-General
Kuldip Singh Brar, a veteran of the 1971 Indo-Pakistan war. A majority of his
senior commanders also were Sikhs.
In a series of interviews
he conducted in 2004, on the 20th anniversary of Bluestar, Gen. Brar said that
he saw no conflict between his duty to his nation and his religious faith:
I am religious but in moderation.
I am not a person who has to be in a temple every single day, but I have a fear
of God. I respect religion, and respect the fact that I am a Sikh. But as I
said earlier, a Sikh or a Hindu has no meaning here [in the armed forces]. You
don’t even think about it. You are convinced you are not acting against any
religion but against a section of misguided people [led by Bhindranwale] who
have held the country to ransom, who are ready to fragment this country.
Nor was Gen. Brar the only Sikh
in the Indian military who felt this way. Prior to the assault on the Golden
Temple, Gen. Brar announced to his men that if any one of them did not feel he
could participate in the operation, he should step forward and leave the
staging area without fear of reprisal.
“In the fourth battalion, one
hand went up,” the former commander recalls.
“It belonged to a Sikh officer, Second Lieutenant Jasbir Singh Raina … [He] had
a request: he wanted to be the first person to enter the Golden Temple to wipe
the militants who had defiled his holiest shrine. I was very happy and [said]
that Raina must be allowed to lead the first charge. The moment Raina entered, he
came under a withering fire and suffered serious injuries to his legs. Yet, he
refused to pull out … Months later, when he received the Ashoka Chakra [the
highest bravery award in peace times], he came to receive the award in a
wheelchair. I had tears in my eyes.”
Gen. Brar retired from the Indian
Army in 1992. But civilian life proved just as hazardous as life in the
military: In the years following Bluestar, militant Sikhs went on a spree of
assassination attempts against commanders who’d been involved in the operation.
Gen. Brar lives in a well- guarded compound, and spends much of his time
radical monitoring Sikh web sites with names such as “Kill Brar.”
The former commander also is
dismayed to see a resurgence of exactly the sort of Sikh radicalism he sought
to extinguish back in 1984. “There are increasing signs of the youth in Punjab
being motivated and indoctrinated by hardcore pro-Khalistan elements abroad,”
he told an interviewer earlier this month. “This is happening,
particularly in the US, Canada, UK and West Europe by glorifying the deeds of
the Bhindranwale cult and by circulating doctored footage of Operation Bluestar
… Pakistan’s Intelligence agency ISI is also collaborating with pro-Khalistan
cells abroad to propagate the ideology of separatism.”
Much of this is happening right
out in the open. Recently, Gen. Brar notes, a memorial function was held inside
the Golden Temple complex — with the honorees being the men who assassinated
Gen. A.S. Vaidya, a fellow Bluestar commander. And here in Canada, Sikh activists
earlier this year staged a noisy public campaign called “I am Rajoana” — a
reference to an unrepentant Sikh terrorist, Balwant Singh Rajoana, who
masterminded the killing of a Punjab chief minister (who himself was a Sikh).
At Sikh parades in British Columbia, other Sikh killers have been memorialized
as “martyrs” on parade floats.
This month, while Gen. Brar was
in London, England on a private trip with his wife, a group of four people attacked him near the east end of Oxford Street. In the
melée, he was knifed in the neck and face, but survived without
life-threatening injuries. British police arrested a dozen suspects. Two are
being charged with intent to do grievous bodily harm.
The crime itself is shocking. But
it’s also disturbing to see that the Sikh community in England is divided in
its reaction to it. A Tribune India reporter who visited Southall (aka “Little
Punjab”) in recent days interviewed
some moderate Sikhs who found the attack on Gen. Brar to be appalling. But
others embraced conspiracy theories to the effect that the assault was a “false
flag” operation, hatched by India as a means to discredit Sikhs. Here in
Canada, similar anti-Indian conspiracy theories circulated in regard to the
destruction if Air India Flight 182 in 1985.
The fact that men such as Gen.
Brar still live in fear for their life 28 years after the Bluestar operation
shows that murderous violence has become institutionalized within radical Sikh
circles. This radicalism, and the general schisming of the Sikh diaspora into
Khalistani and non-Khalistani factions, is damaging Sikhism as much as anything
that happened in 1984.
Yet Gen. Brar himself tells an interesting,
personal tale about such schisms — and how they can heal on a
personal level.
My own mama [mother’s brother]
who lives in London — he didn’t keep long hair, he used to smoke, visit pubs,
and I used to stay with him whenever I was visiting the UK — suddenly changed
[in the 1980s]. He began to grow his hair and beard; he used to regularly
participate in the functions at Southall [in London] where the Sikhs vowed
revenge [for Bluestar]; he went to Pakistan; he swore he’d have never have
anything to do with me. He broke ties with my parents — his own sister. [But]
then, just three years ago, I was in London and found out he was dying of
cancer. I decided I must see him and went to the hospital. The staff told me he
had about 24 to 48 hours to live. When they informed him of my presence, he
told them to bring me to his bedside and he held my hand; he had tears rolling
down his cheeks and he told me he now understood I had to do whatever I did.
The recollection provides a
hopeful symbol of the spirit of reconciliation that, one hopes, will eventually
render Sikh political violence a thing of the past. Like Gen. Brar and his late
uncle, Khalistani Sikhs — in the Punjab, Canada and everywhere else — should
step back and look at what their cause has done to their communities and even
their families. In that respect, this month’s shameful knife attack on a
78-year-old man, walking the streets of London with his wife, perhaps can serve
as a wake-up call.
— Jonathan Kay is a fellow at the
Foundation for Defense of Democracies
