Abstract
The fine art of lampooning has been an integral part of the commentary on politics. It is quite difficult to imagine the print media without a regular cartoon panel. Digital media has followed suit by ensuring that the daily cartoon is not discarded in the online versions of various newspapers and magazines. A cartoon panel is the shortest, swiftest analysis on the events of the day. It needs no more than a glance on the part of the reader to make an assessment of the situation and to understand the editorial position of the newspaper/magazine. More often than not, cartoon panels provide an aesthetic relief in a sea of alphabets. It is then high time that cartoons and caricatures, both in the print and digital media, were given the kind of serious attention they deserve. Christel R. Devadawson’s book is an attempt to throw light on how the politics of the day informed and influenced the cartoonist’s art and politics.
Devadawson emphasises that she is looking at cartoons and caricatures as a form of dissent. She points out that there is a paucity of theory to study caricature in social science terms, as opposed to art criticism. However, the acknowledgement of the significance of this visual medium comes from the fact that it is an ever-expanding field of enquiry. A range of perspectives are being applied, such as geographical, political and cultural. The book itself chooses the historical filter, tracking the life of the Indian nation through the artistic commentaries of the leading cartoonists at various points in the history of the country. The stellar cast includes—Shankar, R.K. Laxman, Abu Abraham, O.V. Vijayan, Jug Suraiya and Ajit Ninan.
The book is developed chronologically, with each artist typifying a specific era. Shankar documents political machinations in the Nehruvian era. Warning against looking at the cartoonist as a ‘court jester’, the author argues that newspaper cartoons are not necessarily meant to evoke laughter. They are acutely critical visual texts. So to treat leading cartoonists like Shankar, who enjoyed good relations with Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, as a faithful chronicler would be erroneous. In fact, quite the contrary is true. Shankar casts a non-partisan eye on significant domestic issues such as the language problem, and also India’s foreign policy and international relations in the immediate post-Independence period. Not only does he have a distinctive artistic style, he weaves in references to the styles of illustrators such as John Tenniel, of Alice in Wonderland fame, into his works to draw out the intense absurdity of certain political developments. The author argues that Shankar’s preoccupation was with high politics, and hence the focus on the leaders of the day finds place in most of his art.
R.K. Laxman succeeds in shifting the focus towards the common man, with his eponymous panel in The Times of India. The underdog, embodied in the everyman, turns his gaze on the ruling class. Laxman’s work is far more generous with the use of humour. He is a keen observer of the economy. When India was thrown into turmoil during the Emergency, Laxman’s works were like cutting, hard-hitting remarks on the lack of freedoms and the general state of democracy. His works acquire an additional dimension of interest because he was not merely critical of the villains of the Emergency, but also of some protagonists like Jaiprakash Narain. His caricatures reduced them to intellectual rubble. Laxman continued his sharp attacks till the end, and his work will be remembered by more than a few generations. This testimony to timelessness and adaptability is what makes him the greatest, even though in the book he signifies a particular era.
Joining ranks with Laxman during the days of the Emergency was Abu Abraham. He uses the animal world liberally for references to the issues of the day. His focus, somewhat like Shankar’s, is towards the processes and vagaries of the formal politics of the country.
For the post-Emergency period, through the 1980s and early 1990s, the author has selected the works of O.V. Vijayan. Vijayan’s take on the true purpose of caricature is very clear. While acknowledging the debt he owes to cartoonists before him, he does not wish to give as much leeway to the element of humour in political cartooning. He comes across as the first cartoonist to explicitly refer to caricature as a form of protest, even though protest imbues the works of all the other cartoonists discussed in the book. The post-Emergency period saw many leaders coming to power, but Rajiv Gandhi dominates, as life as in death. Vijayan’s works are a critique of the manner in which the Prime Minister wanted to shape the nation, and of course, his failures.
The 1990s witnessed a huge shift in the way the economy and following that, the politics of the country was being run. With India integrating itself with the global economy, new protagonists surfaced in cartoons. This was the period when the world’s remaining superpower, the US, had George W. Bush as President. Bush, with his belligerent foreign policy, bizarre pronouncements and gaffes, was a cartoonist’s delight. He was also impacting India, mostly because the country was slowly shaping warmer relations with the US in the post-Cold War period. Ajit Ninan, well-known cartoonist, and journalist Jug Suraiya, collaborated to produce a ‘fictional’ superhero called Dubyaman. Dubya looks uncannily like Bush, flies around the world in a bodysuit befitting a superhero, and makes bizarre pronouncements in his style, summing up the state of politics. This cartoon also appeared in colour, pointing towards changes in newspaper printing trends. Ajit Ninan and Jug Suraiya examine the political economy of this new nation, where promises and aspirations are running at an all time high. Globalisation is clashing with both more domestic, development issues, as well as a spate of wars being waged worldwide. What starts as a ‘wartoon’ takes on a life of its own beyond the theatre of war, in a recalibrated environment for India.
Devadawson has diligently tracked the works of some of the country’s best cartoonists, or graphic artists, as they would be known today. There is rich insight into the kind of situations that the artists were responding to. What is truly commendable though is that the cartoonists in post-Independent India have been given their due in terms of the manner in which they helped shaped contrary viewpoints of politics. By putting together an anthology on the masters, the author has given lucidity to their work within the political matrix. She has also outlined how the distinctive styles of draughtsmanship and elements of the art were important in visually communicating complex ideas at a glance. This intervention is likely to force the reader to pay greater than usual attention to the small panel that both livens up, and informs, our daily dose of news.
Purely in terms of how the text is organised, not every cartoon panel discussed has been reproduced in the book. A few have, but some others have simply been described. It is understandable that this could have to do with the difficulty in getting permissions. However, it is quite hard to run back and forth over the text, trying to picture in one’s mind what the illustration would be like. Greater attention is paid to descriptions of political events, and at times, this overwhelms the actual analyses of the art itself. The art and politics run side-by-side, yet one is left with the feeling that the twains have not quite met. Perhaps it would have helped to clarify with examples in history, about times when caricature was not a form of dissent, so that the reader might get some perspective about why this book is hinged specifically on caricature-as-dissent. For instance, the recent cartoon in an Australian newspaper depicting poor Indians eating solar panels is clearly racist. This could have been a significant theoretical intervention, since the advent of the Internet and social media has given space to several cartoonists, effectively utilising their art for protest. One such fine example is the panel called ‘Crocodile on Water, Tiger on Land’. The artists identified for the book belong to the English-speaking world. Indeed it is not possible to include every artist in every other language in India, but perhaps a caveat to this effect would have opened up future points of discussion.
The book nonetheless, marks an entry point for taking caricature more seriously on social, cultural and political terms in India. It has the potential to spark off discussions that can lead to future research, and for that, it needs to be on the bookshelves of scholars evaluating contemporary India.