Jaswant's Jinnah and fault lines of Indian history
Ali Ahmed Ziauddin examines the background to partition
Breaking with tradition is a courageous act. In the social arena one is labeled either a rebel or a crank. In the political world one risks finding oneself on the wrong side of popular opinion. In academia one can face blazing guns unless equipped with solid arguments and references. Breaking the stereotyped portrayal of Jinnah as a villain in mainstream Indian historiography, Jaswant Singh's recent assessment of him is one such act. He is candid without malice, a rare feat. He doesn't mince words when pinning due responsibility for partition on the leadership across all divides in general but Gandhi, Jinnah, Nehru and Mountbatten in particular. His wit and eloquence are superb, though a bit repetitive at times. Nevertheless, since history is viewed through the prism of the present no matter how objective (a highly sensitive topic like partition more so), his appraisal of Jinnah on the wide canvas of India's independence movement too is not free of its constraints. I will mention only two. A political analyst of South Asian affairs might find this excellently well researched book a gripping thriller. The captivating cascading of events of high political drama in pre partition India's volatile populist politics over half a century inadvertently blinkers the wider picture of discerning millennia-old historical forces at play. In other words, it gets trapped in a typical case of losing sight of the woods because of the trees. But before addressing the woods and trees issue let's explore the loose ends of Singh's central argument briefly. He is obviously sad and hurt over the catastrophe of partition. He thinks it would have been prevented if Congress had addressed the legitimate concerns of the Muslims in time despite the League's absurd claim of Muslim nationhood. Regrettably, he attributes this failure to the shortcomings of individual leaders. It's like holding the actors responsible for playing a script that was intrinsically divisive long before they arrived on stage. That script began to be written in the early 19th century. The Bengal renaissance and other similar social movements across India, though with lesser intensity, unfolded early in the century in whatever rudimentary form. The central focus of these initiatives was to rediscover India and awaken to the new conditions of a Euro-centric world order. As the decades rolled by this soul searching influenced by Orientalism drew inspiration from India's imperial past, i.e., before the arrival of the Turks, Afghans and Moguls. Although groups within the movement differed sharply on how to draw the future they were however unanimous, with few exceptions, in concluding that centuries of Muslim rule by different dynasties was in general the darkest period in Indian history. Thus began nationalist historiography, providing a conceptual framework to the future. The Congress admitted, with two major inclusions, democracy and secularism, the first of which is operational but doubts remain of its efficacy, while the other has remained illusory ever since. Where would Indian Muslims figure in a future with such a past except as a subject people at best or uninvited guests at worst? From there onward the Hindu-Muslim cleavage widened further and turned nasty in the 20th century. The Muslim League was the reaction to such majoritarian chauvinism. The intriguing question is: why would a very high calibre Congress leadership fall prey to such narrow history reading? That brings us to the story of the woods and the trees. And to get away from the trees to have a glimpse of the woods one needs to delve into the contours of Indian history, even if very briefly. Not in history itself but rather the pattern it evolved into over millennia. History can be fascinating or tedious depending on how one goes about it. If every action has an equal and opposite reaction in the physical world humans can't be exempt from it. And they are not. The history of any people can be compared to a wide surging river. Carrying numerous streams from the hills, it expands in the plains and splits into multiple offshoots. The cascading force loses steam and multiple currents are born. In time, with deposition of silt, counter-currents are born. In such light, three main currents and their counter-currents within the broad flow of Indian history can be identified. First is the gradual evolution of the racial segregation of society into castes, broadly defined as Brahminism, that gave birth to numerous counter cultures within and outside its fold. Second, though endemic exploitation of the peasantry stemmed from the economic relations of Brahminism, it nevertheless operated within a feudal order (in various forms) that was adopted by all ruling classes, irrespective of caste or creed. Third, despite attempts by various imperial dynasties to impose political unity in different ages, the centre-province dichotomy remained a constant trait of India's political order all through history. For purposes of this review only the first feature needs attention. With the rise of monarchical states in the Gangetic plains around 600 BC, Brahminism emerged as the guiding doctrine of these states. It's a socio-political system that brands all other castes and faiths inferior, some even untouchable except Brahmins and Kshatriyas. It grants an individual or a community a particular caste status only after it submits to the Brahminic order. Obviously, it was deeply resented by the lower castes who constantly struggled to find a decent place in society. Buddhism, preaching a casteless social order, provided this space. From the 2nd century BC Buddhism gradually replaced Brahminism as the main current until the rise of the Gupta Empire in the 4th century AD. From then on and till the end of the 1st millennium, a Brahmin backlash methodically persecuted Buddhists, which included the destruction of monasteries. Buddhism slowly went into eclipse in India. From the early 2nd millennium AD Islam emerged as the counter current and remained so till the advent of British supremacy in the 18th century. From the mid 19th century nationalist claims created conditions for the ascendance of the Brahminic order once again. Since the Congress was the product of this mental landscape coated with a nationalist colour, it was impossible for it to accept Muslims as a distinct entity outside the Brahminic fold. It is true that Indian Muslims weren't a very rational lot either. Their claim to a separate nation was based more on sentiments than substance. The rudimentary elements of constructing a modern nation were absent, which, however, didn't deter them from striving for one, thanks to the British who were more concerned with planetary power politics than prospects of a bloodbath in the subcontinent. Muslims were saddled in their past glory, little realising that the industrial revolution had already packed the thousand year-old but by then crumbling Islamic world system into history. Although most Indian Muslims were converts from Buddhism and low caste Hinduism, their ancestors, unlike earlier invaders, carried the gift of a mature civilisation. They bore the legacy that made it impossible for them to revert to the Brahminic fold. Moreover, the fate of the Buddhists of earlier times was a scary reminder. The historical baggage of both the communities and the compulsions of a rapidly unfolding Cold War made an utterly ruinous partition inevitable. It would turn the subcontinent into one of the most poverty stricken, volatile places on earth, with the prospect of an accidental nuclear war not unlikely. It's pointless to point fingers at any individual or party. Hopefully, Jaswant Singh's attempt to heal the past will open a debate for South Asians, one targeted at shaping a more inclusive future.
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