Article 15: A film discussing the plight of the “subaltern”
A still from the film Article 15 (2019)
Who are subalterns? Why can’t they speak? Who can speak for them? All these questions have been posed, scrutinized and constructed by various postcolonial theorists. Gayatri Spivak understands “subaltern” as someone who doesn’t “get the piece of the pie”. She deconstructs the word to explain it’s proper usage over its apparent misuse by other “oppressed” classes. Anyone who is oppressed, but still is inside the power and cultural hegemony can’t adopt subalternity. They are vying to get a piece of the pie, while the “subalterns” are the ones who can’t even think about the pie or let alone have any access to routes that can elevate such desires. This condition of subalternity can be better understood through the Hindi film Article 15 (2019). The film is set in a rural village in North Indian province of Uttar Pradesh. The film’s protagonist (played by the Indian actor Ayushmann Khuranna) is a senior police officer who grapples through the grim realities of power structures based on social hierarchies of the Hindu caste system. In his department, he encounters many men whose last name ascribes them to lower caste identities. Despite the apparent lower caste status, these men can’t adopt subalternity: according to Spivak they are still within the confines of power hegemony and have an agency to speak on certain occasions. The women affiliated with these men may rightfully claim subalternity due to their oppression by a patriarchal nature of Hindu rural society that takes away their agency in favour of social constructionism—which dictates gender roles for them by restricting them to duties of homemaking, child and eldercare. Their agencies are revitalized only when they participate in this existing patriarchy or in some cases, they are given leeways to speak their mind through their husband’s agency in the society as a man.
Then there are the lowest of these perceived lower castes: the outcasts of the society, who have no agency. They have a rightful claim for subalternity, but because they have no agency, this classification can be given to them or this kind of absence of agency can be recognized by someone who has an agency in the existing power hegemony structures. Our protagonist enjoys such privilege by virtue of his caste. He is a Brahman—a social class that heads the hierarchical structures of the Indian Hindu caste system. He also enjoys the socio-economic privilege by being born in a well to do urban bourgeois class household. Despite his caste and socio-economic privileges, his agency also has its limits. The Hindu societal order based on caste and gender has skewed the political, social and cultural ideals in the favour of so-called upper caste populace to such an extent that any dissent or pushback against such hierarchical structures will elicit a vociferous reaction.
The universe of Article 15 (2019) quickly establishes the absence of agency of the “subaltern” groups. These groups are marginalized, and almost ghettoized in the margins of the village. They are indisposable and are used as manual labourers working at the leather factory, slaughterhouses, sewage systems and construction sites. Their exploitation is known to everyone; the upper caste power structures constructs a narrative of “others”, which sub-humanizes the lower castes such as the Dalits. The humanity of these men and women are stripped in order to take away their agency. They want to claim subalternity, but can’t really do it because of the existing class system that’s been put in place to put checks and balances on what they can and can’t do. The pie is big, and the lower working classes can work their way up to get a sliver by not resisting their “oppression”. Dalits and the untouchables don’t even get to access these spaces of “oppression” in order to be a part of this power hegemony.
The film hits a nerve of this power hegemony when two Dalit girls shows audacity by asking for a few more rupees in exchange for their labour. They were hunted, gang-raped, and hanged on a tree. This was a response by the benefactors of the existing power structure that doesn’t want to hear the faintest of a whisper from these “subaltern” classes. The police, political system and the “junta” directed blame towards the victims. The “otherings” of them was so prevalent, that the FIR (First Information Report) for these girls who were missing weren’t even registered at the local police station. The blame for these killings was directed towards the fathers; this was done through a fictitious narrative of “honour killings” because of an “illicit” relationship that these two girls had with each other. The dehumanization of these groups of men and women is so deeply embedded in the consciousness of this rural society—that even the gruesome killings of these two Dalit girls didn’t move anyone. The life of subaltern is not equal to the lives of people in the discourse of this power hegemony. During the elections, these “subalterns” are told that they, in fact, have an agency because of the democratic nature of the country that they live in; this is a PR gimmick to show the urban or progressive centre of powers in the country that one is in tune with the ideas of Ambedkar’s progressive all caste inclusive India.
The Dalits, women and anyone who doesn’t follow heteronormativity can adopt subalternity. Article 15 communicates the prevalence of ideas of caste and social classes by showing what the “othering” and “sub-humanizing” of people looks like. There are few scenes in the film which shows manual scavengers diving in these sewage manholes without any protective gears. These subaltern men immerse themselves in this thick black water comprising of waste, excreta and pollution. This black water can also be construed as the metaphorical nature of the society that “subaltern” exists within. These are the Dalits or the untouchables who are not even considered worthy to be included in the four-fold varna system of Hinduism. These men and women are ostracized by society, and treating them humanly is considered a sin by the protector of such hierarchical structures. This film also explores the proletariat voices that push against this juggernaut of Hindu power hierarchy. These voices try to push against the false front of selecting a lower caste political candidate that may elicit “subaltern” groups to vote for their political party in a bid to form a state government. Student activists and local rural youth leaders often try to bring agrarian issues or caste issues by calling out the Brahamnic classes on their oppressive routines and practices. This dissent inevitably is met with vociferous agony from the ruling classes.
The film succinctly places the guilt felt by our upper-caste high ranking police officer who pushes against the system that wants to maintain the status quo. This balancing of power is often done by making everyone who is in the power hegemony to believe that the hierarchy is been built as a safe-vault to ensure the smooth running of the society. At the end of the film, we do see how people who check their privilege can act as the mouthpieces for the “subaltern” groups, but it really hits home when it affirms the reality that the “subaltern”, in fact, can’t speak: to hear their voices the society needs to develop conscience to see the nefarious nature of power which tries to justify its oppressive techniques through religious justifications.