Can propaganda be great art?

Several works of art, books, theatre, and films are often called propaganda. How exactly would you define propaganda?

Asim Siddiqui: In an absolute sense, you can say that all art is propaganda. That means whether it is cinematic art, literature, or poetry, it is talking about certain ideas. But these days, when we use the word ‘propaganda’, we are using the word in a very specific sense where a filmmaker, writer, or artist has a clear agenda to make a selective use of facts, ideas, and maybe images to try and persuade a group of people to accept a particular point of view. It nakedly panders to raw emotions. And by doing that, it tries to mold public opinion.

Sudhanva Deshpande: Propaganda must be seen in the context of a broader ecosystem. Propaganda is typically not something that one person does alone. There are organised forces behind the work that is seen as propaganda.

Would you say Dhurandhar is well done propaganda, as many believe? How does it compare with The Kashmir Files and The Kerala Story, which are seen as explicit propaganda?

Asim Siddiqui: It is certainly better than those films. It tries to narrate a story and create characters, but I would place it within that broader ecosystem of which the other two films are part.

Sudhanva Deshpande: In the Hindi film industry, there has been a concerted effort by forces of Hindutva to take control of the film industry in some ways, and this is done both officially as well as through non-state actors — trolls and vigilantes on the ground, institutions of the state, and networks of funding, financing, exhibiting films. For instance, when The Kashmir Files came out, in several BJP States, government institutions gave their employees the day off or bought them tickets. Social media too was promoting the film. So the commercial success of the film was orchestrated. But despite this orchestration, films such as The Kashmir Files and now Dhurandhar are still exceptions commercially, in the sense that many films that do propagate the Hindutva point of view don’t do well.

Asim Siddiqui: Also, earlier, you would not have imagined that many of these films would get a National Award. [The Kashmir Files] got an award for national integration, which appears ironic.

What is the difference between propaganda in the service of power and that which questions power?

Sudhanva Deshpande: Every artist and work of art must decide where they stand in the larger scheme of things. Do they think that the existing status quo, the power relationships in society, are fine and need to be strengthened? Or do they believe that the status quo needs to change? In other words, do the poor and those who have been marginalised for centuries also need to become stakeholders in society? Now, if you believe that, then of course your art will also argue that. But that is not propaganda; you are going against the grain of power and against values and beliefs that are entrenched in society. On the other hand, if you believe that, say, caste is fine, that the vast majority should be treated as somewhat less than human, you are working in favour of the entrenched ideology.

There is no Indian Muslim character in Dhurandhar. Is the film still addressing them in some sense?

Asim Siddiqui: There are certain dog whistles in the film. At one moment in the film, one character talks about Pakistan and says it is not our ‘enemy number one’. It says you have many enemies within India, and, of course, there are different terms for them as well. In that sense, it is also part of the ecosystem we have discussed. There is no Muslim character who is positive, and you can also consider the absent characters; they are not named, but you can hear those dog whistles.

Sudhanva Deshpande: The othering of Muslims and the depiction of Muslims as kind of enemies within or as negative characters is not new per se. In Angaar (1992), the Muslim don’s family is shown as less than human. There is a clear connection between the depiction and the overall atmosphere of Islamophobia that started building up with the Ram Janmabhoomi movement and the demand for the demolition of the Babri Masjid from the mid-1980s onwards. And as it reached a crescendo, you find more and more such films being made.

There is a section that feels that the present nationalist propaganda is a counter to the cinema of the 1950s to 1970s, which was inspired by the progressive writers’ movement. And if Mehboob Khan and Raj Kapoor pushed the idea of a Nehruvian India, films such as Uri and Dhurandhar represent the ‘new’ India.

Sudhanva Deshpande: It is completely misplaced, a false equivalence drawn by the right wing. I can’t think of a single film inspired by the progressive writers’ movement that actively went out to encourage or make its audience feel hatred towards a particular caste or community. I don’t remember anybody in the 1950s saying he was afraid to make a film because of the attacks he would face from the state or society. Yes, there was Emergency in the 1970s. That was a dark period in Indian history when films such as Kissa Kursi Ka were banned, and that was terrible. But by and large, that was an exception. The other aspect of the propaganda of this moment is about everything that is prevented from being made. For instance, in a film on Jyotirao Phule, there was a need to remove caste names of caste groups. My filmmaker and writer friends tell me that now you have to deliberately include scenes and dialogue that incite rage-baiting, to create a social media storm around the film. This is done so that people who would ordinarily not have gone to see the film end up watching it.

Some people say that they have enjoyed a work of propaganda even while being sceptical of its message. Would you say that it is ethical to appreciate these artistic qualities, given that the work aims to manipulate your beliefs?

Asim Siddiqui: There may be certain parts in a film or book which you may like. It is not unusual for viewers to clap for a bad guy in a film. Sometimes a film can also hold a kind of sinister charm. When you are engrossed in a film, you can enjoy the visuals, songs, images, and acting. The discourse that arises from a film comes later. I liked Raees in parts, but also found it deeply problematic.

Sudhanva Deshpande: Art is a complex business that operates on many levels. Sholay is a film that I grew up with. I love the film, but I don’t endorse the idea of the benevolent, patriarchal feudalism at its heart: the character of the Thakur and his being the saviour of the village. Having said that, it is also the case that often, you may watch a film whose message you endorse, but you find the film a little boring.

Can propaganda inspire critical thinking?

Asim Siddiqui: Critical thinking can never be dead. It makes us discover old films and books, watch and read them afresh, wonder why we liked them and, sometimes, question why we rejected them in the first place.

Sudhanva Deshpande: The more you argue against something, the more there is curiosity about it. I come from a family where nobody reads or speaks Urdu. The language was never part of my world as I was growing up. But by the time I was in college, there was a whole anti-Urdu sentiment being stoked. I became curious about the language and started reading Urdu poets and writers in the Devanagari script.