Dissent — defined by Collins as a (strong) disagreement or dissatisfaction with a decision or opinion, especially one that is supported by most people or by people in authority — is the cornerstone of governance and democracy. Like cornerstones, dissent is not very attractive, least of all to those inhabiting the building; often ignored until it becomes wildly disruptive and threatens imminent instability. Like cornerstones, too, the removal of dissent renders the structure precarious and often dangerous.
Indeed, one might consider dissent, and the ability to tolerate dissent, the litmus test of governance. Metaphors, after all, are meant to be mixed.
For while a democracy is undoubtedly governance of the people, for the people and by the people, it is also, by nature, governance representing the majority of these very people. Which is laudable, of course. Democracies function best when they come closest to representing as many people as they can. And the more people they represent, the closer they come to realizing their hopes and aspirations. And, of course, by nature, they will never truly represent all the people, because there will always be some differences of opinion, some diversity in choices, in value systems, in beliefs and in the expression of these.
If this sounds glorious and paradoxical and quixotic, it is because democracies are all these things, and more. It is at the same time both an expression of a consensus and an expression of dissent by the consensus. It is dependent upon both a fulfilment of our responsibilities and an exertion of our rights. So it has been from its earliest recognizable forms, when groups of people engaged in discussion to take important decisions as they settled down from hunter-gatherer to agrarian societies.
India, with its rich diversity of cultural heritage, is oft-quoted to the extent of becoming a trope. Our earliest settled democratic republic states in the subcontinent are now believed to date back to the 6th century BCE, very close to the earliest traceable origins in Athens in the 7th century BCE. This naturally lends itself to an ability in the subcontinent to live together peacefully while respecting diversity (at least most of the time) while also tolerating the differences that are expressed as plurality and as dissent.
Of course, democracies work best when situations — environmental, economic, social and political — are favourable. They are less systematic in times of adversity, when this very plurality and dissent lend themselves to chaos, perhaps even anarchy. This, too, is laudable, because the chaos then becomes a potent indicator that the democracy can function better, and, in fact, may need to, in order to respond conclusively to a crisis. The chaos itself, may, in taking itself apart and putting itself back together, show us potential ways out of the crisis.
Such is true not just for countries, but for any and all sorts of enterprises where large groups of people come together and work together towards achieving a common goal — from sports teams to housing colonies to work places. The human body, too, tends to resemble a democracy based upon what most of its constituent organs decide — in both health and disease. Diseases lend themselves to discomfort, manifested by signs and symptoms, often anarchic. Yet, the signs and symptoms themselves are also potent indicators that the body is not functioning as it should and that it can do better. The distress they cause leads us to treatment, which, if all goes well, may lead us out of the crisis caused by the disease.
If this sounds like an oversimplification, it is because it probably is. All metaphors are. They bring out what is common and gloss over what is different. As do democracies, often.
Dissent is not always constructive to democracy, certainly not when it leads to death and destruction. There are limits to its expression by citizens as well as limits to the tolerance shown to it by nations. It may not be desirable or even convenient, particularly when nations and institutions already have a fair amount to deal with, during a crisis. However, like diseases, they are potent indicators that there is something of concern, something which would merit improvement or fixing. As with diseases, they are always worth paying attention to, and unwise to ignore or dismiss.
Why is this fairly lengthy exploration of how dissent reflects diversity and shapes democracy and mirrors disease important? Because, as much of the world endures the second wave of the novel coronavirus pandemic, it is clear that there is great heterogeneity. The symptoms vary widely, as do the profiles of people affected, as do theories about the modes of transmission. So too, do recommended treatment regimens, vaccine availabilities, mutations, rates of transmission, resources available, outcomes and disabilities resultant therefore.
Teeming groups of experts from various fields have been trying, and will continue to try, to examine this heterogeneous data and decipher the signal from the background noise. There is great diversity in exposures, courses and outcomes. Some of this diversity is natural. Much more is man-made, and perhaps could have been avoided with better mask hygiene and consistent social distancing. The world’s two largest democracies conducted rallies and elections, on differing scales, during this period, for instance.
And where there is such diversity in a pandemic, including in access to vaccines and treatment, it was perhaps inevitable that there would be dissent and differences of opinions on the best way to go about addressing the disease itself. Covid-19 may have often been called the great equalizer but it has often been anything but, often amplifying existing social and economic disparity based upon age, sex, race, religion, community, urbanization and several other factors, all across the world. Where there was a widening of such disparity, amidst disease and death, there was bound to be dissatisfaction and dissent.
There has been discussion about whether such dissent is to be tolerated or not, or if expressing criticism of how healthcare systems or governing bodies are handling the crisis is disloyal or even anti-national. Based upon recent verdicts by the Supreme Court of India and addresses by Justice D. Gupta and Justice D.Y. Chandrachud, dissent continues to fall well within the purview of the constitutional rights of the citizens of India. That said citizens may express this right to dissent and thus express disapproval of, dissatisfaction with, and disagreement with governance while grappling with disease and death is perhaps, to be expected. In fact, the rule of psychosocial and political well-being is mutually respected dissent or agreeing to disagree for better solutions.
That most people with Covid-19 may be asymptomatic or recover uneventfully is true. It is, however, of very little comfort until lasting solutions to the pandemic are found. Reports of the pandemic, whether in scientific literature or in popular media, may undoubtedly be distressing, but even more so would be turning our faces away from our fellow humans in their suffering. This is as true of developed countries as it is of developing countries. Unhappiness does not occur in a vacuum. There is usually a very real, very evocative context. Our current context is the long Covid. Positivity and productivity may be possible in this context, but are often accompanied by privilege and must be recognized as such.
Dissent is certainly not convenient at present. It is, however, a potent indicator of this unhappiness and that things could and should certainly be better. It may not be welcome, but it exists. It is certainly worth paying attention to. It is certainly worth listening to. May we listen — to ourselves and to each other.
Debanjan Banerjee and Migita D’Cruz are consultant psychiatrists in Bangalore
