Title: CONFERENCE REPORT
Author: Mary Chatterjee
Last saved by: Peter Woodward

Shap Journal 2004/2005

Shaping the Future

Text, Belief & Personal Identity: Creating A Dialogue

Mary-Searle Chatterjee

A report of the Valmiki Studies Workshop held at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, February 2004, raising questions about the ways in which ‘religions’ are approached in Religious Studies and Religious Education.

The ‘world religions’ framework promoted by Ninian Smart was developed as part of a project to give respect, even parity, to non-Christian religions.  It has been dominant in religious education in Britain for many decades. This is the notion that religious belief and practice fits neatly into six or so bundles. Any other traditional practices tend to fall into a residual lower status category such as ‘animism’ (implying that they are only of local and particular interest, not of  ‘world’ quality). The model appealed initially because in some periods of history ‘religious’ beliefs and practices appear to be relatively standardized over large areas, or among populations over which centres of inspiration have diffused influence, or centres of power have enforced conformity. Prestigious groups may be widely emulated (though sometimes challenged).
               
 There are problems with this ‘world religions’ framework as many people now recognise. Some ‘world religions’ so-called do not aim to convert the world. Others have few adherents and are virtually confined to a single ethnic group. Moreover the beliefs and practices of vast populations in Africa find no place in this scheme. We struggle with these anomalies and try to shore up the model by tinkering at the edges. We discuss whether we can add on categories such as ‘New Age religion’ or ‘African religion’. 

 The ‘world religions’ model is now entrenched in legislation (1988 Education Reform Act) and shapes the working of Schools Advisory Councils for Religious Education. Applications for permission and funding to establish separate religious schools have to be couched at least partially in terms of the ‘world religions’ model: applications for charity status, or for various other privileges in hospitals and prisons are more favourably received if presented in terms of that model. We now have a question on ‘religion’ in the national census: the pigeonholes into which one may slot oneself are limited by the same model.

A recent workshop presented yet more grounds for disquiet at the artificiality of the ‘world religions’ paradigm. It showed that many traditionally ‘low’ status groups of Indian origin in Britain strongly reject the idea that they can be pigeonholed as Hindu or Sikh. They struggle with the fact that teachers  brought up in the ‘world religions’ model often will not accept their children’s claim to belong to what they call the Valmiki religion. A similar problem, not discussed in this particular workshop, arises for children who claim a Ravidasi religious identity. These issues were first brought to the attention of teachers by the work of Eleanor Nesbitt on the basis of her research in schools in the Midlands (1990). 

The workshop in question was convened at the London School of Oriental and African Studies by a Sanskritist, Julia Leslie, on the 21^st February. The occasion was the launch of her book, Authority and Meaning in Indian Religions: Hinduism and the case of Valmiki (Ashgate). The Valmikis (or Balmikis as they are known in some parts of India) are a dalit caste (formerly labelled as ‘untouchable’). Many Punjabi Valmikis are found in Britain. The group claims descent from the great mythological poet/saint Valmiki, supposed composer of the Sanskrit epic, the Ramayana. The dispute which launched Dr Leslie’s involvement resulted from a Birmingham radio programme in which a ‘higher’ caste Punjabi radio presenter expressed the view, commonly held in India, that the great saint and guru was not just of somewhat lowly background, but was originally a bandit. This view is associated with bhakti forms of religion that lay stress on the redeeming power of faith in Lord Rama to lift a sinner to the highest pinnacle of human saintliness as exemplified in Valmiki. British Valmikis angrily contest this view: for them, Valmiki is, and always was, divine, superior even to Lord Ram. Dr Leslie had at the time a post-graduate student who was a Valmiki pharmacist. She was asked to report on the early texts. Her finding was that though the ‘bandit’ story was common in later texts it was not present in the earliest ones. The issue went to the courts and the supporters of the radio presenter produced a report supported by another Sanskritist. 

The advance publicity for the workshop was eye-catching. The day was billed as a dialogue; not your ordinary boring conference, I thought. I imagined that with luck there would be about seven Valmikis and at the most twenty academics. Far from it: there were what looked like a dozen to twenty academics, and a couple of hundred Valmikis.  One of the co-organisers of the workshop was Dr Leslie’s ex-student, Lekh Raj Manjdadria. He had publicised the meeting in caste community newsletters. A preliminary workshop had been organised privately within the community to ensure that Valmikis were not overawed on the occasion. And indeed they were not. This was their day and an occasion for public recognition of hard fought for new dignity. The atmosphere was relaxed, refreshments were ample and we all received a pack with useful historical information and extracts from key texts. 

Workshops later in the afternoon were facilitated by community members. They raised issues of group concern, lack of community temples, disagreements with the older generation, lack of unity in the community, lack of clear codes for conduct and the problem of ‘conversion’ away from the Valmiki ‘religion’. The key issue was how to strengthen community boundaries and how to mark themselves off clearly from other groups. Many were unhappy with the eclectic variety of texts in British Valmiki temples. They wanted agreed-on key texts that would mark themselves off from both Sikhs and Hindus. They lamented that children at school often lacked pride in proclaiming a religious identity that was both stigmatised by many South Asians and not recognised in the ‘world religions’ paradigm of teachers.  What Valmikis want from academics includes definitive texts, translations for children, and recording of oral history from the elders of the community. Though many academics might be happy to help with some of these requests, they are less likely to see it as their role to help mark off one group from another.  Wouldn’t it be better if boundaries were fuzzier? But then Valmikis are only trying to do what groups have to do within the existing system and framework if they are to have clout  
 Many Valmikis would probably not object to the world religions model provided they could be added on as another ‘official’ religion. However, in demonstrating the dynamic and fluid nature of belief, practice and group identification, both the workshop and Dr Leslie’s book showed the inappropriateness of forcing all religious belief and practice into the straitjacket model of ‘world religions’, or even, perhaps, ‘religions’.  Some Valmikis, though not most of those present at the workshop (who may, or may not, be typical of the community), are happy to be sometimes labelled Hindu. Others are more likely to worship at a Sikh gurudwara, though occasionally at a Hindu temple. Many others insist that their Valmiki identity cannot be subsumed under either of those other categories. 
 Every individual has multiple identities: different identities may be fore-grounded in different contexts and in different periods of life. Some of these identities are ones that people speaking English might label as ‘religious’ though not all languages have an equivalent to this term. Sometimes language, or regional identity, comes to the fore, sometimes caste, sometimes ‘community’,‘religion’/sect. Some Valmikis would place more stress on political unity with other dalit communities than on a separate identity. Valmiki beliefs, commitments and identities may be distorted if we attempt to divide them up under separate labels such as ‘religion’ or ‘caste’ (whether in the sense of the South Asian term jati or in the sense of the South Asian term varna). These are simply verbal classifications in modern English though they have now been adopted by British Valmikis as well as by other South Asians. 

Valmiki has been revered by many castes for millenia. At times this is but one fluid strand of reverence ebbing and flowing among others. In some periods, as now, it provides an identification for a separately labelled caste/’sect’ community. Other formerly ‘low’ castes who revere the saint/poet, Ravidas, have labelled themselves Ravidasis These are not static categories, are not always distinct and are always contested. Valmiki temples may contain Sikh scriptures, and Sikh gurudwaras contain pictures and writings of Valmiki. Individuals may attend a variety of places of worship, may be peripatetic. But then Punjabis of all backgrounds have traditionally moved between temples and gurudwaras except at moments when political interests led to a hardening of boundaries between the two groups, as they did in the 1980s.  Traditionally it was common for Punjabi families to have both ‘Sikh’ and ‘Hindu’ members, to practise rituals of both groups and to attend both types of place of worship (Ballard, 1988).

In some periods Valmiki practice has shown decided Islamic influence. This is now hotly denied as part of the project to gain acceptability in a context in which anti-Muslim sentiments are increasing throughout India (Leslie, 2004: 62) Yet in Punjab it has always been common for Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs and Christians to seek solace at the same shrines (Ballard, 1999, Oberoi, 1994).  

In the end, we have to allow children to identify themselves in the terms they choose, even if those are not familiar from the ‘world religions’ model, and even if they are ones that we would not even consider ‘religious’. The words ‘religion’/ ‘religious’ have had various meanings in different periods of English history. Initially they were used only in reference to people who had adopted a monastic life. Surely we should not be trying to force fluid practice into a finite series of pigeonholes? That is just as inappropriate for many white ‘secular’ children as it is for many of South Asian heritage. 

References
Ballard, R. (1999) ‘Panth, kismet, dharm te quam: continuity and change in four dimensions of Punjabi religion’ in P. Singh (ed) Punjabi identity in a global context, Delhi: OUP.
Oberoi, H. (1994) The construction of religious boundaries: Culture, Identity and Diversity in the Sikh Tradition, Delhi: OUP.
Nesbitt, E. (1990) ‘Pitfalls in religious taxonomy – Hindus, Sikhs, Ravidasis and Valmikis’ in Religion Today, Spring.
Searle-Chatterjee, M., 1994 ‘Caste, religion and other identities’ in M.Searle-Chatterjee & U. Sharma (eds), Contextualising Caste, Oxford: Blackwells.
Suthren-Hirst, J. & Zavos, J. (eds), Contemporary South Asia: special issue ‘Teaching Across South Asian Traditions’, forthcoming.