1984

Postcards From The Edge, Part III
The Elephant In The Room

T. SHER SINGH

DAILY FIX

Tuesday, June 12, 2012 

Two years after the disturbing events of 1984, a handful of Sikhs in Toronto -  inspired by an earlier visit by Prof Hew Mcleod from New Zealand to teach some short courses on Sikhism in town - provided seed money to hold a conference at the University of Toronto.

It was given the title of “Sikh History and Religion in The Twentieth Century”.

Though the brain-child of Hew McLeod, it was spearheaded specifically by two local academics - Joseph T. O’Connell and Milton Israel.

Hew McLeod was a world authority on Sikhism but being based in Dunedin, New Zealand, had to leave the logistics in the hands of O’Connell and Israel.

The latter two, though experts in specific areas related to the Indian sub-continent, and undoubtedly decent and sincere people, had until that point no experience in Sikh studies or subjects, either through their research, study, training or teaching. 

Therefore, it didn’t take long for issues to arise between the local academic organizers of the conference and some members of the local Sikh-Canadian community.

True, the latter had no teaching experience in academia, but all were highly educated and well-immersed in their respective profession. Moreover, some had far more knowledge of Sikhism than any of the local academic advisors.  

The concerns of the community members were multi-fold: that presenters at the conference be carefully whetted in order to ensure that, a) they have genuine knowledge about Sikh subjects; b) that they do not come from a previously demonstrated anti-Sikh bias; c) that they be well-versed in modern and international standards of scholarship; d) that they be willing to face the elephant in the room, namely, 1984; e) and that they be willing and able to be objective and independent, and not be tied to the Govt of India line, which by this time had publicly been demonstrated as being preoccupied with anti-Sikh propaganda.

We were scolded by the two academics over our gumption of wanting to influence them in any manner whatsoever. We were scolded and given a quick lecture on “academic freedom”, and it was made very clear that any funding brought in did not permit any say in how it would be used, or we allowed any input. "Leave it to us, or else!"

Indeed, the community members were given zero say. The first we knew of the full list of participants or the topics of the papers was on the morning of the first day of the conference (held February 15 - 17, 1987).

Some were top-notch. Some had never before done an academic paper on a Sikh subject. A few were downright ill-fitted for such an exercise.
  
The only man amongst the academic organizers who knew much about Sikhism or understood the current dynamics of the goings-on vis-à-vis Sikhs in the recent time period was Hew McLeod. In the days leading up to conference, before he reached Toronto, he suffered a stroke while in New York, and therefore could not attend or even participate in the details.

In term of Sikh issues, he had been the only known entity within the organizers. The others were mostly new to the community … and to Sikh studies.

So, come the morning of the first day of the conference, imagine the sheer shock on the faces of the Sikh-Canadian community when they see Indian government operatives from the local Indian Consulate - individuals well known in the community to be from India’s “intelligence” staff which often meddled in local Sikh affairs - to be not only at the conference as invitees, but sitting front and centre, taking notes on all the goings-on.

We hurriedly and privately raised the issue that that would intimidate the academic presenters and prevent them from being objective and forthright.

The reply from Professors Israel and O’Connell was that there was nothing to worry about: the Indian government was on our side! Hadn’t they helped us get funding from various quarters and even help in securing the presenters from India? Hadn’t they gone out of the way to throw a consular reception for the presenters?

The Indian government had been involved in organizing the conference?

A reception?

All of it was news to most of us!

Oh, it was a private affair, you see, closed to the community … only for the academics!

At the consulate? But, but, sir, what happened to academic freedom? If we ask a question or seek an answer, it is an attack on academic freedom, but if you bring in Indian bureuacrats and intelligence officials into the thick of a Sikh conference, that is kosher?

We were told that the Canadian security agencies - RCMP and CSIS - had been alerted to the sensitive nature of the conference and nature of the times, and if we made any “trouble”, we would be dealt with summarily. We were here as guests, not participants. And we were encouraged to look around the room and indeed there were suspicious looking characters lurking around with wires stuck in their ears. 

So, we behaved from that point on … which, we were told in no uncertain terms, meant “Shut up, and leave it to us academics … we know what we‘re doing, you don‘t!”

The conference began.

Before long, a number of strange looking desis slipped in and seated themselves in some seats in the front row which had mysteriously remained vacant in a packed, standing-room only hall until then. Somebody whispered “Consul-General“, someone else asked “High Commissioner?”

But we weren’t allowed to ask any more questions of anyone that mattered, because that would be mischief.

During the breaks, we noticed that our academic organizers bowed and scraped before the Indian consular contingent. Other presenters, especially some who had come from India, joined in the kowtowing. 

We quietly seethed, but behaved ourselves. Nary a question on what happened to academic freedom, and other troublesome issues of that nature.

The conference proceeded. It was remarkable for its inanities … nothing was said that would ruffle any Indian feathers. There was a lot of “on the one hand … and then on the other ….”, to make sure no one could accuse anyone of anything.

We, from the community, were reminded by the successive moderators that we were mere observers. We couldn’t participate.

There was no mention of 1984 … in a conference titled “Sikh History and Religion in the Twentieth Century“!

It was as if George Orwell had been hired a consultant, and the Department of Truth had been brought in to implement Newspeak. 

During the first break in the afternoon, I was chatting with a police officer - remember, I was a lawyer and an activist in, inter alia, policing circles! - and he confided in me that the organizers were indeed pleased that all was going well, everything was in control, that there were no mercifully trouble-makers who had infiltrated the conference.

During the second coffee break, he confided in me again; said something big was being planned by the organizers. A surprise for you guys! You’ll like it! But he said he couldn’t say what … yet!

About 4:00, the proceedings were interrupted and one of the academic organizers announced: “We have a wonderful surprise for you!“

He was gushing, flush with excitement.

“We’re cancelling the remaining two presentations scheduled for the afternoon … we promise to do catch-up in the morning. But please do not leave. There’ll be lots of coffee and samosas while you wait. We’ll be back with you shortly - with a wonderful surprise.“

Suddenly, despite the fact that the hall was already packed - there hadn’t been a single empty seat all day - new faces appeared from nowhere. They had wires sticking out of their ears.

We knew something big was going to happen.

An hour later, we were shepherded into an auditorium next door. As we were being seated, announcements were made both inside and outside that the doors would be closed in 15 minutes and once so, no one would be able to go in and out until the special event was over. So, get your coffees, visit the washroom, etc., etc. 

The auditorium was packed. The organizers bounced around, excited as penguins, brimming with new-found energy.

Then, after what felt like eternity, the doors were slammed shut. Security people manned all exits. 

One of the organizers came up to the podium.

“A couple of logistical matters first. This event is closed to the media. Therefore if there is anyone here from the media, we ask you to please leave. This is a special, private event and not open to the public.?

We looked around. No one got up. Not surprising. The media had already been told earlier, one by one, to go home.

We waited. The audience was tense and apprehensive. The two chief organizers couldn’t sit down. They fidgeted, paced, whispered, frowned, tested the microphone, shuffled their feet importantly, made sure the doors were indeed locked. The security - a dozen of them by now - punctuated the room.

One of the learned professor-organizers then nodded at someone behind us, stepped forward to the podium, and declared:

“It is my pleasure to welcome our Minister of External Affairs, the Right Honourable Mr. Joe Clark! Please rise and join me in welcoming him …”

Most of sat there, as if hit in the face.

Joe Clark?    

Not a man any self-respecting Sikh in the country wanted to see, especially being honoured at a Sikh event!

Utterly disliked by us all, he had cultivated our displeasure in recent months by mouthing anything the Indians said about 1984, and publicly vowed and threatened to “crush” Sikh “extremism” every time there was a protest against the shenanigans of the Indians in the highly-charged post-1984 era.

Not known for being the sharpest knife in the Canadian government’s drawer, he had served as Prime Minister for exactly 9 months a few years before, before being thrown out on his ear by the Canadian electorate, once they had determined that he was a light weight. His successor had kept him on in cabinet because his party was desperate to show they had representation from Western Canada; Clark was one of the few Mps from Western Canada.

So, when he walked into the auditorium that evening, there was less than an outpour of unbridled enthusiasm emanating from us.

We were told of all the wonderful things he had done to date. No mention was made of the fact, though, that most of the country considered him as having less than leadership quallities, and was popularly identified in the public mind by an iconic cartoon depicting him as a child with his mitts hanging out of his sleeves, secured in the usual pre-school manner by a string!

 
Continued tomorrow …

read other articles in 1984