Our Modernity: A Detailed Exploration by Partha Chatterjee

In 1994, Partha Chatterjee, a professor at the Centre for Studies in Social Sciences in
Calcutta, India, delivered a lecture titled "Our Modernity" in Bengali in Calcutta on
September 3. This was the Srijnan Halder Memorial Lecture, translated into English by
Chatterjee himself and later published in 1997 by the South-South Exchange Programme for
Research on the History of Development (SEPHIS) and the Council for the Development of
Social Science Research in Africa (CODESRIA). The lecture was presented during a tour in
Africa in 1996, organized by SEPHIS and CODESRIA, and printed by Vinlin Press in Kuala
Lumpur, Malaysia, for Forum in Petaling Jaya, Malaysia, with design by Typography and
Other Serious Matters in Rotterdam. This essay explores every detail of Chatterjee’s lecture,
focusing on how modernity is understood in India compared to the West, and why India’s
experience of modernity is unique due to its colonial history.

Introduction: A Personal and Reflective Beginning

Chatterjee starts his lecture by noting some unusual aspects of the occasion. He feels
surprised and inadequate to deliver a formal lecture, typically reserved for older, wiser
figures, especially since it honors Srijnan Halder, a former student who died young. Srijnan,
barely old enough to be Chatterjee’s younger brother, lived a short, dramatic life, battling an
incurable disease until his death. Chatterjee describes him as intellectually curious, deeply
committed to his beliefs, and full of love for life. He admits he lacks the words or thoughts
to match Srijnan’s legacy, setting a personal and humble tone for the lecture.

The subject is "modernity," but specifically "our modernity," meaning India’s version of it.
Chatterjee suggests there are modernities that don’t belong to India and that India’s
modernity has unique features. He wonders if these differences are something to be proud
of or embarrassed about, a question he promises to explore later.

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Conceptualizing Our Modernity

Rajnarayan Basu’s Views on Past and Present
Chatterjee dives into how Indians have thought about modernity by examining Rajnarayan
Basu’s 1873 book, Se kal ar e kal (Those Days and These Days). Basu, educated in the
Western style and a social reformer, compares life before and after English education came
to India. In the 19th century, the Bengali word for "modern" wasn’t adhunik as it is today,
but nabya (new), tied to Western ideas, or unnati (improvement or progress), similar to the
European concept of progress, now called pragati in Bengali.
Basu evaluates seven areas—health, education, livelihood, social life, virtue, polity, and
religion—comparing "those days" (before English influence) with "these days" (his present).
He finds a decline in all areas. For example, he says people in the past were simple, caring,
and truly religious, while now religion is just showy festivals, and people are cunning,
selfish, and ungrateful. He gives examples: in the past, hosts would pawn belongings to keep
guests longer; now, guests can’t wait to leave.

The Curious Case of the Body

Basu spends the most time on sarir (the body), claiming people in "those days" were
stronger and healthier than in "these days." He writes, “Ask anyone and he will say, ‘My
father and grandfather were very strong men.’ Compared with men of those days, men now
have virtually no strength at all.” He adds that people a hundred years ago would be
shocked at how short and weak people have become, noting tales of women chasing
bandits in the past, while now even men lack such courage. He calls modern bhadralok
(respectable people) feeble, sickly, and short-lived.
Chatterjee finds this odd. If "these days" means the modern age under British rule, how can
modernity lead to worse health? He acknowledges that in 1873, modern medicine was
limited to British expatriates and the army, not yet reaching most Indians. Historians might
argue Basu couldn’t foresee 20th-century medical advances. But Chatterjee points out this
idea of decline persists beyond 1873.

More Examples of Decline

In 1912, Motilal Ghosh, founder of the nationalist newspaper Amrita Bazar Patrika, told the
All-India Sanitary Conference that 60 years earlier (around Basu’s "these days"), Bengal’s
countryside was disease-free. Fevers were easily cured with diet, typhoid was rare, cholera
unknown, and smallpox manageable with traditional inoculation. Villages had clean water
and abundant food, filled with “healthy, happy and robust people” who loved sports.
In 1982, communist leader Manikuntala Sen wrote about her childhood in Barisal,
lamenting modern technology: “Oh Allah, why did you give us this technological civilization?
Weren’t we content then with our rice and dal, fish and milk? Now I hear there is no hilsa
fish in all of Barisal!” In 1993, Kalyani Datta’s Thod badi khada recalls childhood stories of
people eating 30 or 40 mangoes after a full meal in 1930s Calcutta, suggesting Basu’s "those
days" lingered into the 20th century.
Chatterjee notes that if he passed off Basu’s words as modern, no one would notice,
because people today still say past generations were stronger and healthier. He asks: Why
has this belief lasted over 100 years despite facts showing medical progress?

Basu’s Reasons for Decline

Basu lists four reasons for this health decline:
1. Environmental Changes: Places like Tribeni and Santipur, once healthy retreats from
Calcutta, are now malaria-ridden. He believes India’s environment is worsening, affecting
physical strength.
2. Food Problems: People lack nutritious food, eat adulterated or harmful things, and drink
too much. He recalls tales of huge appetites in the past, impossible now.
3. Excessive Labor: English rule increased work demands, unsuitable for Indians. Basu says
the 10-to-4 work routine imposed by the British doesn’t fit India’s conditions.
4. Lifestyle Changes: People had fewer wants in the past and were happier. Now, European
luxuries bring worries, but India hasn’t adopted European ways to meet those needs.
Basu compares two old men: a "vernacular" one who wakes early, sings religious songs,
bathes, picks flowers, and prays—keeping body and mind healthy—and an "anglicized" one
who eats late, drinks brandy, sleeps in, and wakes unwell, his body riddled with diseases
from English habits. He admits this is exaggerated but insists not all Western modernity
suits India.

A Story of Beef and Milk

Basu tells a funny story: Two Bengalis dine at Wilson’s Hotel. One, obsessed with beef, asks
for veal, beef steak, ox tongue, and calf’s foot jelly, but the waiter has none. Frustrated, he
demands “anything from the cow,” and his friend snaps, “Why not get him some dung?”
Basu argues beef is too “heat-producing” and unhealthy for Indians, while milk, a better
food, is scarce because British officials, Muslims, and some Bengalis eat cows.

Basu’s Main Point

Chatterjee finds Basu’s examples amusing but takes his core idea seriously: there’s no single
modernity for everyone. Modernity must vary by place, time, environment, and society.
True modernity, Basu implies, uses reason to find the right forms of modernity for each
context. Chatterjee stretches this to say universal modernity teaches us to use reason to
create our own particular modernity.
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Western Modernity Representing Itself

Kant’s Definition of Enlightenment
Chatterjee contrasts this with Western modernity, starting with Immanuel Kant’s 1784 essay
"What is Enlightenment?" (Aufklarung in German, alokprapti in Bengali). Kant says
enlightenment is growing up—escaping immaturity by using your own reason instead of
relying on others’ authority. Immature people let holy books, pastors, or doctors decide for
them. Kant argues this dependence suits those in power, but now people see self-reliance
as key, with freedom (especially civil freedoms) as its condition. He doesn’t claim everyone
is enlightened now, but that this is the age of enlightenment.

Foucault’s Take on Kant

Chatterjee cites Michel Foucault’s analysis of Kant’s essay. Foucault finds it new because
Kant ties his philosophy to his own time, asking what makes his age ripe for knowledge.
Kant doesn’t focus on revolutions or future goals but on the present as an escape from
dependence. This negative definition—modernity as a break from the past—sets Kant apart
from earlier thinkers.

Public vs. Private Reason

Kant splits reason into two spheres: "public" and "private." The public sphere is for general
issues, free from personal interests, where freedom of thought is vital. The private sphere is
for individual or specific interests, where obedience to authority is needed. For example:
- In a public debate on taxes, experts can speak freely, but privately, you can’t refuse to pay
taxes.
- A soldier can join a public discussion on war strategy, but on the battlefield, he follows
orders.
- A pastor can criticize his religion publicly, but privately, he preaches its doctrines.
Chatterjee notes this flips the usual liberal view: today, we see the private sphere as free
and the public as regulated. For Kant, the public sphere is universal and free, while the
private is about duty within a system.
The Rise of Experts
This leads to a paradox: enlightenment promises universal knowledge, but it creates experts
who control who can speak on what. Foucault, known for linking knowledge and power,
highlights this, though he doesn’t stress it here. Chatterjee gives examples: you can’t buy
drugs without a medical license, even if you’ve read the books, and kids must attend
recognized schools. At his lecture, he speaks on history and philosophy—not science like
DNA—because that’s his expertise. Ignoring experts can be illegal or impractical.

Doubts About Modernity

Chatterjee says the last 200 years’ barbarities—like wars and atrocities—make Kant’s
optimism about reason and freedom seem naive. Today, we openly doubt modernity’s
promises.

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A Modernity That Is National

Why the Focus on Decline?
Chatterjee returns to his question: Why have Indians, for over 100 years, seen modernity as
decline, not progress? Basu wasn’t being ironic; something in India’s modernization breeds
skepticism.
He argues it’s because modernity came with colonialism. Indians suspect the "universal
domain of free discourse" Kant describes isn’t truly open to them due to race and
nationality. Tied to colonial power, modern knowledge positions Indians as consumers, not
creators, of modernity. For over a century, they’ve tried to craft their own version.

An Early Clash in 1843

Chatterjee recounts an event from 1843 at the Society for the Acquisition of General
Knowledge in Calcutta, founded in 1838 by ex-Hindu College students, including "Young
Bengal" radicals from Henry Derozio’s 1820s circle. During a meeting at Hindu College, a
paper criticized the East India Company’s justice and police systems. D.L. Richardson, an
English literature teacher, interrupted, calling it treason and saying the government built the
college for Indian improvement, not criticism. Tarachand Chakrabarti, the Indian chair and
ex-student, retorted that Richardson insulted the society. They had permission to use the
hall, and he had no right to stop free speech. Chakrabarti threatened to report him to the
college committee or government.
This shows early Indian intellectuals demanding a voice in universal discourse, believing
competence, not race, should matter. But disillusionment followed.

Nationalizing Modernity
By the late 19th century, Indians formed "national" societies for modern knowledge,
excluding Europeans, unlike earlier mixed groups. These aimed to spread science and arts
among Indians, often in Indian languages, creating a modern yet national space.

Medical Education: A Case Study

Chatterjee uses medical education as an example. In 1851, Calcutta Medical College opened
a Bengali section to teach Western medicine without English schooling. It grew fast: from 22
students in 1851 to 772 in 1873, surpassing the English section’s 445. Between 1867 and
1900, nearly 700 Bengali medical books were published due to student demand.
But by the 1870s, complaints arose: Bengali students, weak in English, couldn’t assist
European doctors in new hospitals. As professional medicine—hospitals, medical councils,
and patented drugs—took hold under the General Medical Council of London, the Bengali
section faded. By 1916, all medical education in India was in English.

Reviving Ayurveda and Yunani

At the same time, nationalists worked to modernize Ayurveda and Yunani medicine. The All
India Ayurveda Mahasammelan, founded in 1907 and still active, standardized texts, set up
colleges with lectures, textbooks, exams, and degrees (replacing family apprenticeships),
and promoted commercial drug production. Some debated adding Western methods, but
even purists agreed Ayurveda could use other sciences’ tools if they fit its principles,
claiming a universal scientific basis for a distinct Indian system—not just for "Indian
diseases," but as an alternative science.

Science and National Modernity

This push for a different modernity isn’t just cultural (like in literature or arts); it includes
science. Prafulla Chandra Ray, a Fellow of the Royal Society, wrote A History of Hindu
Chemistry, while Jagadis Chandra Bose, also an FRS, believed his later research drew from
Indian philosophy, suited uniquely to Indian scientists. Though Bose’s work wasn’t widely
accepted, Chatterjee sees it as revealing the drive behind India’s modernity.

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Present History in the Age of Globalization
Modernity’s Dual Nature
Chatterjee quotes Kamalkumar Majumdar’s novel Antarjali Yatra: “Light appears gradually.
The sky is frosty violet, like the color of pomegranate... Gradually, the light appears.” He says
modernity inspires dreams of independence and self-rule among ordinary people. Unlike a
king’s commands, modern power works through reason’s discipline, self-imposed by
individuals. Yet, the desire for autonomy resists this power.
Modernity once justified colonial rule—Indians needed enlightenment first—but later
fueled independence. It brings reason and freedom, power and resistance. Chatterjee says
you can’t be simply for or against it; you need strategies to cope, some helpful, some
harmful, some tolerant, some violent. The naive belief that modernity is always good is
gone.

The Flood of Change

In Majumdar’s novel, a flood destroys a decaying Hindu society, taking the good with the
bad. An untouchable man can’t save a pure, loving bride because he can’t touch her. A
boat’s painted eye sheds tears, showing attachment amid loss.

Attachment as a Driving Force

This attachment drives India’s modernity, not as nostalgia but as a call to change the
present. Chatterjee says India, in the global modernity arena, is an "outcast," a consumer at
a "supermarket of foreign goods." This subjection fuels a desire to create, imagining a past
of beauty and prosperity to contrast with today’s lack. Unlike Kant, who saw the present as
an escape from the past, Indians see the present as something to escape from, making their
modernity unique.

Courage in Nationalism and Globalization

This ambiguity—valuing modernity yet doubting it—marks India’s experience for 150 years,
from Basu to today. It’s not about rejecting modernity but having the courage to shape it
differently. Nationalism showed this inventiveness; globalization may demand it again.
Chatterjee ends by suggesting we rethink "those days" and "these days" to forge our future.

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Conclusion
Partha Chatterjee’s "Our Modernity" unpacks India’s complex relationship with modernity,
rooted in its colonial past. From Rajnarayan Basu’s critique of Western ways in 1873 to
Kant’s universal enlightenment in 1784, and from 19th-century medical experiments to
modern Ayurveda, Chatterjee shows how India seeks a modernity that’s both universal and
distinct. Examples like the 1843 clash, Bengali medical training, and scientists like Ray and
Bose highlight this effort. In a globalized world, India’s modernity remains a work in
progress, driven by attachment, skepticism, and courage.