ECB is about differentiating Sikhs
from the word 'Asian.'
Its a Vision to help raise awareness
of Sikhs in the Western World,
their history,beliefs and identity.
Space is running out at the Sikh temple in Elsmere. On a Friday or Sunday evening during services, members squeeze together to sit in prayer. The women, backs against the wall, crowd into one room, the men in the other, and when those fill, any small nook will do.
To follow building code, temple organizers have set up two large services to accommodate the growing population. They're also planning an expansion this year on the existing grounds of the Elsmere property.
The growth, even for Sikhs -- a minority group within the Asian Indian community -- mirrors a boom found in the U.S. census.
In Delaware, the 2007 U.S. Census shows that Asian Indians, with 8,416 estimated members, are the second-largest immigrant group. Nationally, the census put the Asian Indian population at 2.5 million.
As a student at the University of Delaware, Bill Swiatek, now a senior planner with Wilmington Area Planning Council, documented the rise of the group in Delaware through research for his undergraduate and graduate thesis.
Delaware has attracted many Asian Indians, says Swiatek, largely because of the strengths of its industries. Swiatek found that many came as doctors and engineers in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s.
"Delaware was a big feeder," remembers Prem Tandon, an engineer who ended up in Delaware working for what was then a Getty refinery in Delaware City.
They were few in number but, like many immigrant groups, they came looking for opportunities with companies like DuPont, Hercules and others that coveted their skills.
"Forty years ago, it was much different," Tandon recalls. "There were probably a total of 15 of us. I don't blame the non-Indians for saying, 'That guy looks strange.' But now the Indian community has made great progress and we're in the mainstream."
Jitu Asthana, also an engineer, came to Delaware during that time with his wife. They were in Nashville for a while before landing in Delaware. It was easy to socialize with other Asian Indians here, he said, because the numbers were so small. They watched movies together, held parties, marked professional and personal strides together.
"But we made a big effort to get organized," he said.
Building a community
Organization is a skill not lacking in the wave of Indian immigrants that Asthana and Tandon arrived in.
Do a search of Delaware and Indian organizations and a small phone directory worth of names pop up: There's the Hindu Temple Association, the Gujarati Samaj of Delaware Inc., undergraduate student associations, graduate student associations, merchant groups and two Hindu temples on the long list.
Asthana and Tandon are part of the Indo American Association of Delaware, whose mission is to educate others about Asian Indians, to promote the Indian heritage for younger generations and to promote unity among the Indo-American community.
As Tandon is careful to point out, India is a big country and it certainly isn't made up of a monolithic group of people.
"India itself is so huge, there's so much diversity," he said.
You'll find the same diversity in Delaware's Indian population: Hindus make up the largest religious group, but, as the Elsmere temple shows, there are also Sikhs, Muslims and Christians.
But there is one thing that ties those groups together, Tandon says.
"Delaware is one of the best places to raise a family," Tandon said, and if you know anything about Indians, you know that family is big.
Swiatek, the researcher, said that those family ties seemed to have brought a second group of Indians to Delaware: the merchant class.
Sid Sharma, of Newark, who came to Delaware in the 1980s to study in nearby Drexel University said he noticed the rise of the merchant class as he drove between Delaware and Pennsylvania.
In a matter of years, Indian stores began cropping up one by one in Delaware, a change from when he first arrived and had to buy goods for home in Philadelphia. He also noticed something else about the new wave of arrivals.
"The person who came started bringing their families here, which were non-professional," he said.
Tandon added: "And it was good that they brought them. It made it more emotionally peaceful for Indians."
The families, and single members of the Indian community, would gather to socialize and watch Indian movies at UD, where Asian Indian student groups also started making their presence known.
Branching out
For the most part, Swiatek says, Asian Indians settled in exclusively "white middle class" areas in northern New Castle, mainly in Hockessin and Christiana. Because most were highly educated and fluent in English before they came, they were able to settle anywhere in the region.
Being part of the mainstream community is important to the professional class.
"I didn't want my kids to be different than Joe Blow on the street," Tandon said.
In the past decade, however, some things have changed. Swiatek has noticed that those in the merchant class have settled in some of the area's less-affluent neighborhoods and tend to congregate with one another more than the more professional groups did.
The population has gotten so big, the earlier arrivals say, that it's a lot harder to keep track of what each group is doing and what the new trends bring. They point out that Asian Indians have become part of the nation's mainstream. They point to Bobby Jindal, the Republican governor of Louisiana, who is being touted as a rising political star, even as presidential material.
"The first generation who came were doctors or engineers," Tandon said. "Our kids have diversified. They used to be doctors or engineers. Now they are journalists and politicians."
However, while moving into the mainstream, they're careful to note that they haven't forgotten to honor their heritage.
"They see themselves as a hybrid, as being an Indian and an American," Swiatek said.
The next step, Tandon says, is to focus on helping those outside the Asian Indian community.
"The association is focusing on work we can do with the non-Indian community," Tandon said. "We feel we had the opportunity to stay here, make money and we can do something for the community and that is to provide charity. The more we do these things, the more comfortable people are and they don't feel, 'These are strangers.' "
A Sikh security guard who was asked to trade in his turban for a hard hat at a Milton Home Depot will have his case heard before the Human Rights tribunal today.
Deepinder Loomba has been fighting the hardware franchise for almost four years after a supervisor at a Home Depot construction site asked Loomba to wear a hard hat.
Loomba, who immigrated to Cananda in 2002 from Uganda, said the turban is part of the Sikh religion and his hair cannot be exposed in public. The incident occured in December 2005.
The Brampton resident said the external patrol he was conducting was not inside where construction was taking place but the company is arguing the whole perimeter including the entrance-way and desk where Loomba sat required a hard hat be worn.
After two failed mediations, the case is finally being heard today through Wednesday.
A LAMPETER university professor helped secure the conviction of two ultra-racists and set a legal landmark after giving expert evidence during a dramatic trial. It was a day like any other until Prof Dan Cohn- Sherbok, a Reform Rabbi and lecturer in the Department of Theology and Religious Studies, took a call at his desk from the counter-terrorism section of the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS). Two men, 51-year-old Simon Sheppard and 42- year-old Stephen Whittle, stood accused of inciting racial hatred after publishing a series of online arti- cles that scathingly attacked Judaism and denied the holocaust, whilst claiming that Anne Frank’s famous diary was fiction “written for her own amusement”. The conversation saw Prof Cohn-Sherbok recruited to give evidence for the prosecution in a trial at Leeds Crown Court, where he would later argue that Jews should be regarded as a ‘racial’ group - crucial for the charge to stick - rather than merely a religious one. “Essentially, these two had been using the internet to disseminate hateful material about Jews, blacks, women and others”, he said. “My brief was this: are the Jews a religious group or an ethnic group? “The distinction can be critical, because the law is different for each. “I had to ask for the meaning of ‘ethnic group’, and was given criteria from a previous court case about Sikhs - in that case, at the House of Lords, it was ruled that there were seven criteria, including a common language, being a minority, having a long history, etc. “Obviously the history of the Jews goes back to biblical times, which is nearly 4,000 years ago. “And Jews have the sacred language of Hebrew.” Jurors found both men guilty after three days of deliberations, but they fled to the United States, claiming political asylum, before being sentenced. Both remain in detention whilst their case is decided. Prof Cohn-Sherbok, himself from the US state of Colorado, returned to Leeds a second time for a further trial - conducted in the defendant’s absence - regarding a publication, Tales of the Holohoax, that the jury couldn’t decide on the first time round. “I made same case again”, he said, “and explained why the material was really anti-semetic and not just satire. “They accepted my argument, and this is of partic- ular importance because the Attorney-General was watching the case closely. “If they had been acquitted, [she] may have had to declare that anti-semitism wasn’t punishable by law. “It really is of critical importance to the British Jews - it means they’re protected by the law.”
After 90 years and a long campaign, the victims of a British atrocity in a holy city are being recognised as martyrs and freedom fighters by the Indian government
By Andrew Buncombe Friday, 9 January 2009
Alamy
The massacre at Amritsar (above) inspired Gandhi to become more involved in mainstream politics and was a turning point in the campaign for Indian independence
On a sweltering afternoon 90 years ago in April, a squad of Gurkha and Baluchi troops under the command of British officers marched into an enclosed park in the city of Amritsar and levelled their weapons. The park was densely crowded and there was only one way in and out. The officer in charge – General Reginald Dyer, whose name will forever be cloaked in infamy – then gave the order to fire.
Within 10 minutes the soldiers had fired 1,650 rounds, and hundreds of people lay dead, dying or wounded in the city's Jallianwala Bagh. General Dyer could not have realised that the massacre, and the outraged response it triggered, marked a crucial landmark in India's struggle for independence. Yet, despite the importance of the atrocity in the freedom struggle, the people who died there have never been officially recognised by the Indian government. Until now.
After a decades-long campaign by the relatives of those killed, officials have announced the dead shall be officially recognised as "freedom fighters". While it is unlikely any relatives will be able to claim compensation (that right was limited to spouses and daughters of those killed) the families say the decision marks the significance of what was one of the bloodiest and most shameful incidents of Britain's colonial rule in India, and the sacrifice of those killed.
"I am very happy indeed," said Nand Lal Arora, a marketing executive whose grandfather, Faqir Chand, was among those killed on 13 April 1919. The event was portrayed in Richard Attenborough's epic Gandhi. "My father and grandfather had gone to the park to hear the speeches. My grandfather was on the stage when the shooting started and he was killed. My father suffered a back injury. My grandfather and family did something for the country and I'm glad the government has decided to recognise it."
The massacre at the park, or bagh, in the holy city of Amritsar came against a backdrop of growing unrest within the Punjab and elsewhere in India against British rule. In the aftermath of the First World War, the Indian National Congress had stepped up its demands for greater autonomy for India and there had been unrest in several cities in the region and in Amritsar itself. Just two days before, a British woman had been attacked by a mob. Much of the agitation was in protest against the Rowlatt Act, anti-sedition legislation that gave the authorities unprecedented powers to prohibit meetings, newspapers and anything else considered a threat. Those people gathered in the park that afternoon did so in contravention of martial orders, to hear speeches against the Act. General Dyer, who had been born in India and spoke Urdu, then the lingua franca of large parts of northern India, had decided he needed radical action to impose order. Well before he marched his troops into the park, he had decided he would order them to fire if he found crowds gathered in contravention of his orders.
At the subsequent inquiry, General Dyer – who was ultimately forced to resign from the Army but who became a hero to many in Britain for his actions – told investigators: "I think it quite possible that I could have dispersed the crowd without firing but they would have come back again and laughed, and I would have made, what I consider, a fool of myself."
Asked if he had afterwards provided medical care for the injured, he responded: "Certainly not. It was not my job. Hospitals were open and they could have gone there."
On a recent afternoon, Bhushan Behal, who heads an organisation of victims' families and who has fought for "freedom fighter" recognition for the past three decades, led The Independent on a tour of the Jallianwala Bagh, which was long ago converted into a memorial garden. Mr Behal said his grandfather, Harrar Behal, a lawyer who had been speaking that fateful day, was the first to be killed.
"He was on the stage, the first person shot, said Mr Behal. "We have the names of 464 people who were shot but maybe there were 2,000 in total who died [that day or later]. I am very happy by the government decision. I have fought for this for 30 years so we are feeling very happy."
The well-tended park is today a quiet, reflective place. But signs remind visitors that the ground now planted with roses is soaked with the blood of hundreds of Hindus, Sikhs and Muslims and it is not hard to find signs of the violence wrought that afternoon 90 years ago by General Dyer and his men. A brick wall, specially preserved, still shows the deep marks from bullets. A short distance away is a well into which scores of desperate people leapt to escape the gunfire. A marble memorial marks the spot where the stage had been set up and where Mr Behal's grandfather and others had been speaking.
Another member of the group, Bobby Chouhan, who is not related to anyone killed in the incident but who has been campaigning, added: "The [lives of these] people helped the freedom movement. It was related to the freedom movement."
Historians agree. Professor Harish Sharma of Amritsar's Guru Nanak Dev University, said the massacre and the response in India and in Britain, was a decisive moment in the struggle for independence which would eventually be won in 1947. In particular, the killings inspired Mohandas Gandhi to become more involved in mainstream politics. He described the killings as "a calculated piece of inhumanity toward utterly innocent and unarmed men, including children, and unparalleled for its ferocity in the history of modern British administration". Mr Sharma said of the massacre: "This was a key event. It brought about a U-turn in the nationhood movement."
Nigel Collett, author of the seminal biography of General Dyer, The Butcher of Amritsar, agreed the massacre was instrumental in changing the direction of the freedom movement and convincing Gandhi that he could no longer stand on the sidelines. "It was the straw that broke the camel's back," he said. "He said he never trusted the British again. It was an important part of the national struggle."
The British government paid compensation to the victims' families in 1921. And in 1997 the Queen and Prince Philip visited the site, an occasion when the Duke of Edinburgh made one of his typical off-hand comments. Yet the Indian government moved to honour the victims only after a long struggle, not only by relatives of the victims but by the state authorities.
In a little-noticed directive issued late in December, the Home Ministry said the victims would be newly recognised, along with about 60 Indians killed by the British in 1872 in the so-called Kuka massacre. They will now join countless numbers of "freedom fighters" recognised for their role in India's independence, in incidents ranging from the events of the 1930s and 1940s to the Goan liberation struggle of 1955.
The communiqué said: "Respecting the sentiments of the Punjab government, the ministry is pleased to accord freedom-fighter status to the martyrs of Kuka movement of 1872 and that of Jallianwala Bagh in 1919. These massacres have been formally included in the national freedom movement."
There is an intriguing and just possibly remarkable footnote to the struggle for recognition for those killed at Jallianwala Bagh. On the edge of Amritsar, an old farmer who claims to be the sole survivor of the massacre shares a house with his son, grandson and great-grandson.
Shingara Singh says he was aged 23 at the time, which would make him 113. Opinion is divided about the veracity of his claims. The government of India has honoured him with a meeting with the President, but others who have examined his testimony, including Professor Sharma and Mr Behl, are adamant he could not have been there.
The old man with deeply creased skin and dressed in a bright orange turban, burned with anger when asked about the British military who committed the massacre. "I am angry," he said. "I want to kill the British who did this."
Mr Singh said he and others had been on the way to the Golden Temple but that it had been blocked by police and they instead gathered at the bagh. He told how the troops had entered the park, how they had begun firing and how people battled in vain to escape. Holding up his thin arm, he said he was shot in the biceps before he hid behind a low wall. "People were shouting, 'We are dying, we are dying'," he said.
As unlikely as it seems, is it possible that Mr Singh is a direct link to this event, a remarkable lone survivor? As he sat amid the quiet of the farmland where his family has grown wheat and rice for decades, Mr Singh was asked about those who doubted the truth of his story. In a moment, the old man's eyes flashed with anger. "Maybe you are hearing this from my enemies," he roared. "Just put them in front of me."
Local Sikh sues IRS after losing job over religious knife
A local Sikh woman sued the Internal Revenue Service this week, alleging that the IRS violated her religious freedom by prohibiting her from wearing a small ceremonial knife to her job as a revenue agent.
The lawsuit, filed in Houston federal district court on Tuesday, states that the IRS fired Kawaljeet Kaur Tagore in July 2006 because she refused to take off her kirpan, an article of faith that Sikhs are required to wear at all times. The blunt blade, worn sheathed, is intended to remind the bearer of a Sikh's duty to protect the weak and promote justice.
Tagore, 35, is the same woman who said she and her family were harassed by Harris County sheriff deputies in November after calling 911 to report a burglary at their home. An investigation by the sheriff's Internal Affairs Division is ongoing.
"Our government is tasked with securing our religious liberties, but in Ms. Tagore's case, both the federal government and the local government not only failed to secure her rights, but trampled on them," said Harsimran Kaur, legal director of the New York-based Sikh Coalition. "Both incidents underscore the governments' ignorance about Sikhism and about the kirpan in particular."
The coalition, along with the D.C.-based Becket Fund for Religious Liberty and Houston civil rights attorney Scott Newar, filed the suit against the IRS on Tagore's behalf.
The IRS banned the kirpan as a so-called dangerous weapon, even though the government allows hundreds of sharp scissors, letter openers, knives and box cutters in the Mickey Leland Federal Building in downtown Houston, where Tagore worked, Newar said.
"There's never been any allegation that she had somehow taken the kirpan and used it as a weapon — that's not what its purpose is," Newar said. "It's a symbolic religious article that Sikhs have carried for centuries. It's like a Cross, it's like a Star of David, it's like any other religious ornament. It just happens to have a blade."
IRS spokeswoman Lea Crusberg declined to comment on pending litigation.
According to the suit, Tagore began working for the IRS in July 2004. On April 14, 2005, she was formally initiated into the Sikh faith.
After the initiation, a Sikh is obligated to wear five Sikh articles of faith, including the kirpan. The articles serve as a public expression of the Sikh faith.
"It's a religious uniform just like a Jew wears a yarmulke or a Priest wears a white collar," said Kaur, of the Sikh Coalition.
The articles must be worn at all times, even if a Sikh is threatened with the loss of property, freedom or life, she said.
A few days after her initiation Tagore began wearing a 9-inch kirpan sheathed under her shirt to work. She informed her IRS supervisor, who "expressed concern about her ability to carry her kirpan in her workplace," the lawsuit states.
Tagore agreed to carry a shorter kirpan to work. This one was 6 inches long with a 3-inch blade. It was not sharp or capable of inflicting bodily harm, and never triggered the Leland building's metal detector, the lawsuit states.
On April 20, Tagore provided the IRS with information about the kirpan and requested, through counsel, that she be allowed to carry it in the workplace. Her supervisor told her to leave. He said the kirpan violated agency rules of conduct and federal law prohibiting people from possessing knives with blades of 2.5 inches or longer in federal facilities.
Kaur, of the Sikh Coalition, said there's no prescribed length for a kirpan.
"It's really up to an individual and their understanding of the faith," she said. "For Ms. Tagore, she felt that she began carrying a smaller kirpan that was as small as her religious conscience would allow."
The IRS allowed Tagore to work from home for nine months, but in January 2006, the IRS director of field operations ordered Tagore to modify her kirpan and report to the Leland Building by the end of the month.
When Tagore showed up with the same kirpan, officers with the Federal Protective Service barred her from the building. She was fired in July 2006.
Tagore's lawsuit seeks lost pay and reinstatement with restoration of benefits and seniority, as well as compensatory and punitive damages.
In the last few years, employers like AT&T and organizations like the International Monetary Fund have reversed bans against Sikh kirpans across the country, Kaur said.
Tagore, who later found a job as a tax consultant with a Houston firm, has no problem carrying a kirpan in her new office, she said.
Tagore did not return phone calls for comment. Kaur said she has been advised by her attorneys not to speak to the media.
Harris County sheriff's spokesman Paul Mabry said news of Tagore's lawsuit will not affect the ongoing internal affairs investigation into her family's alleged harassment by deputies, an incident sparked in part by the same kirpan.
Family members have said they called 911 on Nov. 26 when their home in the10800 block of Oak Bayou Lane was burglarized. But instead of investigating the break-in, they said, the responding deputy became alarmed when he noticed Tagore wore a kirpan on her hip. The deputy aimed his Taser at her and called for backup, Tagore has said.
Other deputies arrived and began cursing and handcuffing family members, including Tagore and her 60-year-old mother, relatives have said.
An insolvency adviser tells our correspondent about repossession, stupidity, sadness, and why he can’t see himself going into the red
Sathnam Sanghera
Gurinder Dulai couldn’t be better qualified for his job as an adviser on the National Debtline. He used to work as an independent financial adviser, so has excellent background knowledge. His composed demeanour, which would make even His Holiness the Dalai Llama seem highly strung, gives him the perfect telephone manner. And he comes from a Punjabi Sikh background, a religious grouping that, according to the Financial Services Authority, is among the best in Britain at making ends meet.
“Come to think of it, I’ve been here two years now and not taken a single call from a Punjabi,” he remarks as he puts on a Britney Spears-style telephone headset at the start of a day’s work. “Only a matter of time though.”
With the press of a button he is plugged into the National Debtline, which is run by the Money Advice Trust charity, and based on the eighth floor of a tower block overlooking Birmingham city centre. This time of year is always the busiest; and the economic downturn has resulted in a surge of queries. So much so that the Treasury recently announced an additional £5.85 million funding over two years, which means the National Debtline will be able to recruit 45-50 debt advisers during 2009, and be able to help about 175,000 people, compared with 115,000 in 2008.
The first call is from a fiftysomething unemployed man from Dorset, who has no assets to his name, receives no benefits and is in debt to the tune of £20,000. “My credit rating is shot to pieces,” he complains, sadly.
The next is from an unemployed and, frankly, stoned 19-year-old who claims he is being pursued by a debt collection agency for a mobile phone debt of £1,103. “It’s not my bill. My ex-girlfriend stitched me right up.”
There follow inquiries from a man in his twenties about how to claim back bank charges, and a call from a man in his forties who is being harassed by creditors for a debt of £12,000.
In each case Mr Dulai begins by establishing the caller’s circumstances, before running through various options, which could range from informally negotiating with creditors to bankruptcy.
It may sound like classic call centre work — but it isn’t. There is no fixed script, the advice ranges from the basic to the intricate, advisers spend no more than five hours a day on the phone (the rest of the time is spent handling e-mails and letters), and there are no rigid guidelines on how long conversations should last. Today one of Mr Dulai’s queries goes on for half an hour, while another, around midday, lasts barely a tenth of that time. It is from a 39-year-old single mother who works full-time but has sunk into £15,000 debt, having purchased a brand-new BMW last year.
“I think I need help,” she says. “I’ve missed a council tax payment and my creditors are on to me constantly.” Mr Dulai runs through the options open to her, but she loses patience at the mention of a personal budget. “Look, I just need a company which will manage my outgoings for me. One that doesn’t charge a fee.”
Mr Dulai informs her that he can recommend a company, but she still needs to do a tally of her income and outgoings before he can do so. “It’s all a bit time-consuming before Christmas, innit?”
The call ends abruptly, leaving a host of unanswered questions hanging in the air. “She wanted a magic answer on the phone,” said Mr Dulai. “Hopefully she’ll call back.”
At the end of his shift, a computerised summary tells him that he has taken 12 calls, spent an average of 18 minutes on each, and an average of seven minutes writing up notes on every case, in case the caller rings back. He has also replied to a letter, and sent an e-mail to a woman who earns £51,000 a year, but has been left heavily indebted after a divorce and her failure to sell a house (“It’s been on the market for nine months and I’ve sold my belongings on eBay. No one will help because I earn too much”).
Perhaps there is something liberating about hitting crisis point? “Maybe. Sometimes you catch up with people who have been in financial difficulties with massive mortgages, and they are now living in rented accommodation, and are much, much happier.”
And what about his own finances? Are they chaotic like so many financial professionals’ finances tend to be? Bet he has an impossible mortgage. “I live with my parents, actually.” Car? “I cycle to work.” Indulgences? “Food . . .” Aha! Eating out can be expensive. “To be honest, it’s more a case of finding the right ingredients for cooking.” Credit cards? “Only for emergencies, and internet shopping. I pay it off straight away at the end of each month, though. Punjabi thing, I suppose.”
Job description
Name Gurinder Dulai
Job Adviser, National Debtline
Age 28
Time in job Two years
Hours 35, 9am to 5pm
Holidays 28 days
Salary £30,500
Best thing about the job Showing a light at the end of the tunnel
Worst thing When clients cannot understand the advice
Easier clients? Younger, northern men
Tougher clients? Older, southern, wealthier. “The better off people are, the harder you have to work to get information out of them. It might be pride”
Author: Tejinder Singh at the EU-India Summit in Marseille, France 30 September 2008 - Issue : 802
French President Nicolas Sarkozy, at the concluding press conference of the European Union/India Summit in Marseille, France, stood next to Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, a Sikh wearing a light blue turban, as he answered this reporter's (Tejinder Singh) question about the wearing of turbans by Sikhs in France. Regarding the required Sikh head covering, an integral part of their religious identity, Sarkozy, replied curtly, "Sir, we respect Sikhs. We respect their customs, their traditions. They are most welcome to France."
Visibly irritated, Sarkozy continued, "But sir, we have rules, rules concerning the neutrality of civil servants, rules concerning secularism, and these rules don't apply only to Sikhs, they apply to Muslims or others. They apply to all on the territory of the French Republic." The practice by Sikhs of allowing one's hair to grow naturally is a symbol of respect, the most important of the five outward symbols required of all Sikhs, and the turban is worn to cover the uncut hair. Sarkozy explained that the banning of turbans is not discrimination, that, "These rules apply to everybody, to everybody with no exception. There is no discrimination whatsoever."
Making it clear to the Sikh community in France that they have no option other than to conform to the rules, Sarkozy made the paradoxical statement, "We respect their traditions and their customs and we are convinced that they too respect the laws, traditions and customs of the French Republic."
Discrimination begins early in France In 2004, three Sikh boys, Jasvir Singh, Bikramjit Singh and Ranjit Singh, were expelled from French schools for wearing turbans. These students were the first victims of the ban instituted which prohibits Sikh students from covering their hair at school, a decision that has prompted world-wide protest from the Sikh community. Commenting on the discrimination and its impact on children, Mejindarpal Kaur, the Director of United Sikhs, a worldwide Sikh organisation, stated in a press release that a preliminary survey of Sikh children affected by the French law found that 84 percent of the students interviewed were prevented from wearing head coverings to school. The survey also revealed that students had been expelled from French schools for refusing to remove their turbans, and many more suffered from alienation by their peers.
Also in 2004, Shingara Singh Mann, a French Sikh, reported he was prohibited from renewing his driver's license after it was lost in a theft because he was wearing a turban to cover his uncut hair.
On December 5, 2005 the French High Court ruled in favour of Shingara Singh Mann, giving him the right to wear his turban for his driving license identity photo, overturning an earlier decision by the French Ministry of Transport. But within 24 hours of the court decision, the Ministry issued a circular expressly forbidding turbans to be worn in driver's license photographs.
Kudrat Singh, Director of United Sikhs in France, said, "This is an example of oppression and discrimination which has not been seen in France for decades, and calls into question whether one can be both Sikh and French." According to legal opinions, the ban is a violation of Article 9 of the European Convention of Human Rights (ECHR) which provides for right to freedom of religion.
MEP Gill urges EU action
Asked to comment, Neena Gill, a member of the European Parliament had said, "I am astounded by the level of discrimination that is in fact growing … it is not confined to France … it is in Belgium, in Germany and it really smacks against all these initiatives that the European Commission is constantly launching."
However, solutions aimed at nurturing "unity in diversity," the European Union's frequently appearing slogan, are already working in the United Kingdom, one of the member states of the European Union, and across the Atlantic in the United States.
Highlighting the integration and diversity that prevails across the English Channel, Gill, who was born in Punjab, India, said, "If you look at the United Kingdom, you can wear a turban not only in mainstream jobs but also in the police, the army, the air force or the navy. There is no restriction. In fact, the army has special days when they try and recruit people from the Sikh community and the Dastar (turban) is not a problem for them, so I really think we do need to raise awareness, especially from the European Commission in these particular years of Equality and Intercultural Dialogue. We have to target the resources at these issues to ensure that there is greater awareness across the EU in accepting people of different appearances."
US efforts to embrace Sikhs
Discriminatory incidents involving Sikhs increased dramatically as a consequence of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in the United States. There were numerous cases of discriminatory attacks on Sikhs as they were misunderstood as allies of Osama bin Laden due to their appearance.
While the US is making the effort to remove misunderstanding and give Sikhs their legitimate place in society, in some member states of the European Union, comparable progress and acceptance has flowed in reverse.
US lawmaker speaks out
US Congressman Mike Honda (Democrat-California), who represents Silicon Valley and who is involved in this issue in his capacity as Chairman of the Congressional Asian Pacific American Caucus, told this correspondent, "I don't believe in sacrificing freedom in order to protect freedom. Turbans are part of the religious identity of Sikhs and we must strive to respect their freedom of religious expression. A balance can be struck between national security and religious liberties, but that balance can only be reached by consulting all the parties involved, in this case the Sikh community."
"It would be ironic that many Sikhs, who fled their homeland seeking religious freedom, would find that America curtailed their religious freedoms when they arrived upon our shores," Honda had added.
The root cause of the discrimination and a pragmatic solution to root it out was aptly summed up by Jennifer Handshew, a seasoned public relations professional in New York who had told this journalist, "I feel that ignorance and fear are the primary factors that fuel this discrimination and believe that education and awareness will help people better understand what the turban means to the Sikhs."
What Handshew and others suggest provide a succinct analysis and a solution, but for now, the door to a respectable life in France for Sikhs has been slammed shut by the French President Sarkozy, in the presence of Indian Premier Manmohan Singh, himself a member of the Sikh community.
