hypocrisy – Brown Pundits

Borders, Blind Spots, and the Mirror Game of South Asia

X.T.M · July 10, 2025 · 20 comments

A recurring tension in South Asian discourse is the question of consistency: how states interpret borders, secession, and sovereignty; not in principle, but in practice.

Liberalstan’s case is that India acted selectively in 1947: Junagadh saw a plebiscite, Hyderabad faced military action, and Kashmir was referred to the UN. From this perspective, India chose whichever method suited its interests in each case. To Liberalstan, this isn’t pragmatism, it’s hypocrisy. The charge: if self-determination wasn’t good for Kashmir, why should it be for Balochistan? And what of Sikkim, Goa, Pondicherry, Khalistan, Nagaland, or the Naxalites?

Hindustan’s reply is rooted in realpolitik: decisions were shaped by demography, geography, and threats; not abstract norms. Q.E.A. Jinnah’s attempt to absorb Junagadh and court Jodhpur are seen as deliberate provocations, since Junagadh was Hindu-majority, non-contiguous, and largely symbolic (home to Somnath). After that, New Delhi abandoned any illusions of standard rules. From Hindustan’s view, Liberalstan’s moral framing is not only naïve but deeply asymmetrical; ignoring 1947, 1965, Kargil, Mumbai, and the long shadow of Pakistan’s own interventions.

When it comes to Balochistan, Hindustan notes its accession was closer to annexation, comparable to Nepal or Bhutan vanishing into India. Three major insurgencies since the 1960s complicate the narrative of “finality.” But here, Liberalstanflips the script: what is labeled a disputed territory in Kashmir is declared settled in Balochistan. This inversion doesn’t go unnoticed.

In truth, both sides are mirrors. Each demands flexibility for itself and finality for the other. Each invokes “consent”selectively; whether that of a prince, a people, or a state. The tragedy, perhaps, isn’t inconsistency but the absence of a shared regional framework for self-determination. One not held hostage by grievance, revenge, or exception.

Until then, accusations of hypocrisy will persist, each side fluent in the other’s blind spots.

If You Have a Side, You Don’t Care for the Other Side

X.T.M · July 8, 2025 · 7 comments

In a world increasingly defined by sides, partisanship often masquerades as empathy. Whether it’s Pakistanis performing concern for Indian liberalism, or Indians invoking the plight of Muslim minorities to score points against their ideological rivals, the truth is simple: if you already have a side, you’re not truly invested in the fate of the other.

This isn’t cynicism; it’s structure. Sides, by their nature, demand loyalty. And loyalty comes at the expense of dispassion. You can mourn injustice selectively, but don’t pretend it’s universalism. More often than not, tribalism puts on the mask of principle.

As a Bahá’í, I’ve been shaped by a millenarian vision that urges global unity; yet I’m also deeply influenced by Hindu pluralism and pagan elasticity. Nicholas Nassim Taleb once said the more pagan a mind, the more brilliant it might be (excellent article) because it can hold many contradictions without demanding resolution. That capaciousness allows one to see that not every question needs a single answer. Hinduism, with its deep pluralism, contrasts radically with Islam’s (and Judaism’s) uncompromising monotheism. And yet, these two traditions are bound together—enmeshed across centuries of history, thought, and blood. Their tension is real, but so is their shared life.

That’s the point: opposites don’t just coexist, they form a whole. But when we prescribe change for the “other side,” we ignore our own capacity for reform. It’s always easier to critique outward than to renovate inward. Especially in a world run by oligarchic elites and managed emotions, where empathy is choreographed and outrage monetized.

So no, the Dalit Muslims of Dharavi aren’t the problem. Nor are the marginalized Hindus of East UP and Biharis. The problem is that a single family can build a private skyscraper in Mumbai while the city gasps beneath it. It’s the system that rewards power accumulation, not its occasional victims, that should concern us.

I don’t offer neat solutions. Maybe it’s taxation. Maybe it’s redistribution. Maybe it’s noblesse oblige. But the first step is this: stop pretending your critique of the other side is altruism. It’s not. It’s strategy. And perhaps the more honest work begins at home—with your own side, your own people, your own self.

Why I Repeated Aasia Bibi’s Alleged Words

X.T.M · November 19, 2018 · 48 comments

Kabir was right to question why I repeated the remarks Aasia Bibi was accused of making. The point did not require repeating them. But the principle did.

I try to be respectful towards all religions. I’ve even been accused of being too sympathetic to Islam and to Pakistani narratives. But many people still do not grasp that the rage some believers feel when they think their Prophet has been insulted is the rage I feel when a powerless Christian woman spends years on death row for something she did not do—or had every moral right to say.

Aasia Bibi is the clearest example in our era of what happens when a blasphemy taboo becomes a blasphemy law.

And what happens when a blasphemy law becomes a political weapon.

If we cannot speak the very words that put her in prison, then the injustice done to her cannot be fully confronted. Sanitising the allegation only sanitises the cruelty.

This is the core of the matter:

Freedom of expression is meaningless unless it protects speech that some consider offensive or sacred.

It cannot protect only polite dissent. It must also protect speech that religious authority hates.

I don’t indulge in theatrics or gratuitous insults. But the principle has to be clear: in a free society, no religion, none, can demand immunity from criticism, satire, or even irreverence. If believers wish to revere, they are free to do so; if others do not, they are free not to.

What troubles me is the growing chorus of Western liberal Muslims and “hijabi feminist” activists who demand respect under the banner of “Islamophobia,” while simultaneously insisting that Muhammad must never be depicted, mocked, or even discussed without ritualised reverence. This is simply a diplomatic version of the same rule that keeps women like Aasia in prison: the Prophet’s honour is more important than human freedom.

And the moral inconsistency is glaring.

There is deafening anger over Gaza. There is a whisper, at best, over Aasia Bibi. For some, outrage is selective, calibrated to global cause-identity. Aasia is inconvenient because she reveals an uncomfortable truth about the political uses of piety.

This is why I repeated the alleged words. Because the principle they engage is non-negotiable:

In a free society, all ideas, including religious ones, must be open to criticism.

No faith gets to write exceptions into the law.

Aasia Bibi paid for that principle with a decade of her life.

The least I can do is speak the words that she was punished for—even if only to show how absurd it was to punish her at all.