In the grand theatre of cultural politics, the Indian film unions have just performed their most predictable act yet: a boycott that evaporated before the popcorn was even warm. The Federation of Western India Cine Employees (FWICE) has rescinded its ban on Bollywood star Ranveer Singh, a decision that has left the chattering classes both relieved and bemused. The ostensible reason?
Singh's participation in a British cultural exchange programme, which the union initially deemed an act of cultural treason. Now, they have seen the light—or, more accurately, they have seen the money and the political pressure. This is not a principled stand; this is a farce.
One cannot help but recall the Victorian era, when the British Empire's cultural exports were met with either sycophantic imitation or outright resentment. Today, the script remains the same, only the actors have changed. The FWICE's boycott was always a piece of theatre, a gesture designed to appease the nationalist gallery without actually disrupting the lucrative business of Bollywood.
Ranveer Singh, for his part, is merely a prop in this drama. He will continue to shill for brands, dance in item numbers, and play the charming rogue, all while the unions pretend to defend Indian culture. The real question is why we persist in treating these burlesques as serious political acts.
When the Roman Senate debated the import of Greek statues, they at least had the decency to do so with intellectual rigour. Here, we have a labour union pretending to be the guardian of national identity, only to fold at the first sign of inconvenience. The British cultural exchange programme, incidentally, will proceed as planned.
No doubt the participants will sip tea and discuss Indian cinema without ever touching on the farcical politics that nearly derailed it. That, perhaps, is the only genuine cultural exchange happening: the shared understanding that these boycotts are as empty as the promises of a Bollywood villain. In the age of performative outrage, the FWICE's climbdown is a masterclass in how to save face while losing all credibility.
But do not expect any lessons to be learned. The next boycott is already being scripted, the next hashtag being prepared. We will all dutifully express outrage, write columns, and move on.
Because that is what we do. We are spectators in our own culture, watching the unions, the stars, and the politicians dance their tired routine. And we call it progress.
