Zetland remained anxious at the prospect of an impending collision with the Congress. He was unconvinced by the arguments floating around him: that India’s heart was with Britain in the struggle against Germany; that the demands of war would bring prosperity to the Indian peasant and disincline him from joining any prolonged agitation; and that the edge of the Congress’s opposition would be blunted. This picture, he believed, was ‘unduly optimistic’. As the date of the Congress ministries’ exit neared, Zetland was inclined to believe that the Congress would be prepared to co-operate, if Britain ‘substantially’ met its demands by promising independence immediately after the war, with the right to frame its own constitution via an elected constituent assembly. In the meantime, Indians should be encouraged into responsible participation in the conduct of the war. The cabinet shot down the proposal. It was felt that these conditions would impede the military conduct of war. Most importantly, the Muslim League would certainly oppose such a scheme.49 In the event, the Congress ministries left office on 10 November 1939.
The League had welcomed the viceroy’s statement of 17 October. Its Working Committee read the statement both as rejecting the Congress’s claim to speak for all of India and as recognizing that ‘the All-India Muslim League alone truly represents the Mussulmans of India and can speak on their behalf’. Linlithgow had not gone quite as far, yet by making constitutional advance contingent on an agreement between Congress and the Muslims, he had effectively handed a veto to anyone who could claim to speak for all Muslims.50
The Congress was virulently opposed to conceding the League’s claims: as a secular party it claimed to represent all religious communities. As Rajendra Prasad put it, if the Congress accepted the League’s stance it would be ‘denying its own past, falsifying its history, and betraying its future’.51 In order to counter the League’s claims and demands, the Congress elaborated its own idea of an elected constituent assembly to frame the constitution of an independent India. This was mooted by Nehru and adopted by the Congress in its resolutions.
Gandhi was initially sceptical. ‘I reconciled myself to it’, he quipped, ‘because of my belief in his [Nehru’s] superior knowledge of the technicalities of democracy.’ Soon, however, he came to regard it as the only way to slice the Gordian knot of the communal problem and arrive at a ‘just solution’. He called for a constituent assembly elected by ‘unadulterated adult franchise’ for both men and women – ‘Illiteracy does not worry me’ – including the existing system of separate Muslim electorates.52 In the last week of November 1939, the Congress Working Committee published a resolution stating that the proposed constituent assembly would be elected on adult suffrage. Minorities would be represented by members elected by separate electorates and their rights in the constitution would be ‘protected to their satisfaction’. Any details that could not be settled by negotiations would be submitted to arbitration.53
Meanwhile, in exchanges and meetings with Jinnah, Gandhi and Nehru sought to assure the Muslim League that the constituent assembly would be widely representative and would provide full protection for the rights and interests of all minorities. For a fleeting moment it seemed as though an agreement might be clinched. Linlithgow confided to Zetland that he had ‘one or two rather anxious moments during the period when he [Jinnah], Jawaharlal and Gandhi were discussing the situation together’.54 The viceroy needn’t have worried. Chastened by the experience of the 1936–37 elections, Jinnah was clear that any representative mechanism, including a constituent assembly, that pigeon-holed the Muslims as a ‘minority’ would fail to secure their interests. Excoriating the proposed assembly as ‘a packed body manoeuvred and managed by the Congress caucus’, he called on Gandhi to apply himself seriously to the Hindu–Muslim problem.55
Jinnah also called on all Muslims to observe Friday, 22 December ‘as the day of deliverance and thanksgiving as a mark of relief that the Congress Governments have at last ceased to function’.56 He was joined by Ambedkar, who declared that he ‘felt ashamed to have allowed him [Jinnah] to steal a march over me and rob me of the language and the sentiment which I, more than Mr. Jinnah, was entitled to use’.57 The Justice Party in Madras also stood by Jinnah in marking the day. Its leader, E. V. Ramasamy ‘Periyar’, was opposed in equal measure to Brahmans, north Indians, the Hindi language and – to him the embodiment of all three – the Congress party. His party had come out in support of the war and contested the Congress claim to represent the minorities and stand for the unitary nation. ‘I have no inclination to be troubled with India,’ said a colleague of Naicker. ‘I care for my own country – and that is Dravida Land.’58 More interestingly, there were reports that Savarkar was soon to meet Jinnah. A broad anti-Congress front seemed to be coalescing. Gandhi himself congratulated Jinnah for ‘lifting the Muslim League out of the communal rut and giving it a national character’.59 He was prescient, if for the wrong reasons. At any rate, the political impasse precipitated by the war was amply clear.
Surveying the scene at the end of the year, Linlithgow observed that the ‘political quarrel’ had entered a new phase. Yet the ‘tranquillity’ across the country was ‘remarkable’. There was ‘no sign’ of any move towards civil disobedience. The viceroy concluded on a note of satisfaction:
In spite of the political crisis, India has not wavered in denunciation of the enemy in Europe, and has not failed to render all help needed in the prosecution of the war. The men required as recruits for the Army are forthcoming: assistance in money from Princes and other continues to be offered: a great extension of India’s effort in the field of supply is proceeding apace.60
The new year got off to a splendid start. On 10 January 1940, the Orient Club of Bombay threw a lavish luncheon. As he rose to make a short speech, the towering guest of honour could see the waves of the Arabian Sea crashing on the beach. In his remarks Linlithgow sought to strike a conciliatory note. He began by expressing ‘deep regret’ at the suspension of the federal plan and went on to reiterate the British commitment to India’s attainment of ‘Dominion Status of Westminster variety’. The government was ready to reopen the federal scheme ‘as soon as practicable after the war with the aid of Indian opinion’. Meanwhile, he was prepared to expand his Executive Council by including ‘a small number of political leaders’. The political problem in India, he reminded his audience, was not susceptible of easy solution. There were the ‘insistent claims of minorities’ – especially the Muslims and the depressed classes – whose position had to be safeguarded. He was ready ‘to consider any practical suggestion’ and would ‘spare no effort’ to hasten India along the road to Dominion status.61
Indians in the audience may have been tempted to think that the viceroy had been softened by the setting. In fact, his remarks were premeditated. And they stemmed from wider strategic considerations.
The backcloth to the speech was provided by the Soviet Union’s attack on Finland – underway since the end of November 1939. The war cabinet in London had been actively considering the possibility of launching with France a diversionary campaign in support of the Finns. At the same time, the British and French also discussed the option of an attack on the soft underbelly of the Soviet Union, including air strikes on the oilfields of Baku and the opening of a front in the Caucasus. Any of these moves would trigger a war with the Soviet Union – and hold grim implications for Afghanistan and India. It was important therefore to soothe Indian tempers and preclude any lurch towards civil disobedience.
From the war’s outset, the cabinet had been alive to the possibility of a Russian threat to India. A Russian incursion into Afghanistan could have a deleterious impact on India’s restive north-west frontier. The problem was that India had adopted ‘a strictly defensive policy on the frontier even against the minor menace, i.e. an incursion by Afghan forces similar to that of 1919’.62 A land invasion by the Russians was deemed unlikely, but the possibility of ‘long range air action’ against targets in India could not be ruled out. In the
event of any attack, no further reinforcements could be drawn for other fronts from India. On the contrary, there might be calls from India itself for land and air reinforcements.63 These concerns were heightened by the onset of the Russo-Finnish war.
In this context, Zetland yet again pressed for a positive policy towards the Congress. In a memorandum to the cabinet on 31 January, he proposed granting India Dominion status and self-government. Further, he suggested that Indian parties should be encouraged to arrive at a constitutional settlement without British involvement. He also proposed an arrangement whereby Britain’s defence and economic interests in India could be protected. Linlithgow, however, urged that ‘we ought to go very slow’. He was not convinced that the Congress’s shoulders were ‘broad enough to carry the burden which we shall relinquish’. Further, the experience of recent months had shown that India’s contribution to the war remained unimpaired. Finally, the viceroy felt that it was better to have a showdown with the Congress now rather than later. He preferred conflict to a compromise of little durability or utility to Britain.64 Zetland pointedly disagreed. In a cabinet meeting on 2 February, he argued that there was ‘no chance’ of the viceroy’s approach succeeding unless it was ‘substantially modified’. If ‘substantial progress’ could be made in securing agreement with the Congress, then the party might resume office in the provinces. If not, the ‘recurrence of civil disobedience must be anticipated’.65
The secretary of state’s remarks set off a heated debate in the cabinet. Churchill said that similar problems were envisaged just before the Congress ministries had resigned, but the government had stood firmly by the viceroy. ‘What had been the result?’ he asked. ‘India had enjoyed a period of perfect tranquillity.’ Nor was he in favour of making any effort to promote unity between Hindus and Muslims. ‘Such unity was, in fact, almost out of the realm of practical politics, while, if it were to be brought about, the immediate result would be that the united communities would join in showing us the door.’ The Hindu–Muslim problem, Churchill added, was ‘a bulwark of British rule in India’.
Sir Samuel Hoare, lord privy seal and a former secretary of state for India, contested Churchill’s arguments. All available evidence suggested that a complete breach with the Congress would be ‘a calamity’. Nehru and the ‘extremists’ in Congress would carry the day and the government would have to deal with a ‘period of civil disobedience, if not of terrorism’. Was the cabinet prepared, he asked, ‘to contemplate that possibility at a time when we might be involved in operations on the Western Front and with Russia?’ If the viceroy’s proposals were unacceptable to Indians, it would be much better to proceed as suggested by Zetland. ‘Our position in the world’, Hoare insisted, ‘would be greatly strengthened if we were able to negotiate a treaty with Indian politicians.’
Eventually the prime minister intervened and said that the viceroy should be asked to begin preliminary talks with Gandhi – but at his own pace. If there was any progress, the cabinet could consider the next steps.
Gandhi was intrigued by the viceroy’s Bombay speech. Ever the sharp lawyer, he felt that the Dominion status in terms of the Statute of Westminster was equivalent to independence. So, although he had reservations about the references to minorities, Gandhi wrote to the viceroy seeking clarification.66 Unsurprisingly, nothing came of this and on 6 February, Gandhi announced that the negotiations had failed. ‘The vital difference between the Congress demand and the Viceregal offer,’ he said, ‘consists in the fact that Viceroy’s offer contemplates the final determination of India’s destiny by the British Government, whereas the Congress contemplates the opposite.’67
Nehru too felt that the way ahead was unclear. While there was no question of compromising, the Congress had no appetite for a showdown either. Not expecting anything much to happen, he took to travelling on slow trains as a diversion and contemplated a trip to Switzerland to meet his daughter. ‘There is no need to worry overmuch either about our personal affairs or national affairs’, he wrote to a friend. In the run up to a Congress Working Committee meeting on 1 March 1940, Nehru prepared a draft resolution reaffirming that nothing short of independence – never mind Dominion status – and a constituent assembly was acceptable. He also mentioned exercising the option of restricted or mass civil disobedience, although this idea was dropped from the final text that he sent on to his colleagues.68
In subsequent discussions of the Working Committee, Nehru and Maulana Abul Kalam Azad – the prominent Muslim leader of the Congress who had taken over as party president in January 1940 – argued for an early, if not immediate, launch of some form of civil disobedience. Azad remonstrated with Gandhi that his attempt to restrain mass action was demoralizing party workers. Gandhi shrugged off such criticism. If civil disobedience was commenced, he insisted, ‘ “disobedience” will remain and “civil” will disappear’. Given his abiding commitment to non-violence, Gandhi could not bring himself to contemplate launching such a movement.69 Cracks in the Congress were evidently surfacing in this political cul-de-sac. This was obvious from Gandhi’s speech at the Ramgarh session of Congress, where he stated that, ‘Your General finds that you are not ready, that you are not real soldiers and that if we proceed on the lines suggested by you, we are bound to be defeated.’ 70
The radicals in the Congress, however, continued to press for a mass movement. In parallel to the Congress session in Ramgarh, Bose presided over an ‘All-India Anti-Compromise Conference’. Bose charged the Congress leadership with simultaneously passing red-hot resolutions and issuing emollient statements towards the Raj. The latest Working Committee resolution, he argued, continued this approach. Declaring that ‘our leaders are wobbling’, he called on all leftists to come together to wage an uncompromising war against imperialism.71
The Communist Party of India also demanded an ‘unconditional call to mass civil disobedience, national strikes, no-rent, no-tax campaigns to destroy the rule of robbers and war-mongers’.72 The politburo issued a secret policy statement titled ‘Proletarian Path’, exhorting India to make ‘revolutionary use of the war crisis to achieve her own independence’. Among other things, the CPI advocated a general labour strike with a countrywide ‘no-rent and no-tax’ action. To smash the Raj’s machinery and to win over the rank-and-file of the army, the movement would have to develop into a ‘nationwide armed insurrection’. As a first step, 150,000 textile workers of Bombay were persuaded to go on a forty-day strike. The Raj responded by arresting nearly five hundred Communist Party members, including the entire top leadership. The communists were forced to cool their heels in prison – until another twist in the global conflict turned them into supporters of India’s war.
Far more concerning to the Congress was a resolution adopted by the Muslim League on 23 March 1940. This resolution was the outcome not only of thinking within the League, but also of viceregal prodding – for some time now, Linlithgow had been asking Jinnah to come up with ‘a constructive policy’.73 Merely stonewalling the Congress’s call for a constituent assembly would not take the League very far. In February 1940, the League’s Working Committee tasked a constitutional sub-committee with drafting a statement. Several options were considered before a text was prepared in time for the League’s session at Lahore. The Lahore declaration called for the creation of ‘Independent States’ in the north-western and eastern zones of India where Muslims were a majority. These states would be ‘autonomous and sovereign’.74 The vagueness of the resolution and its contradictions were remarked upon at the time of its publication and subsequently.
Much ink has been spilt debating whether Jinnah actually wanted to partition India, or merely sought to use the demand for partition as a bargaining counter, and if so to what end. Strenuous efforts have been made to know the mind of a man who always kept his own counsel. Yet it is not clear if at this point Jinnah knew his own mind. The war had injected such uncertainties into Indian politics that none of the leading players could claim clarity of object
ives as well as strategy. The only thing that he could have known at this stage was that he could expect British support during the war – support that he must leverage to the Muslim League’s advantage. The only strategy he could deploy was to deny that the Muslims were a minority and insist that they were a separate ‘nation’ on a par with the Hindus.
These developments strengthened Linlithgow’s position in the debates in London. He wrote to Zetland that the Congress Working Committee’s latest resolution had stated its claims ‘in a more extreme fashion than hitherto employed and one which denies the possibility of treating Dominion Status as consistent with India’s freedom or independence’. A settlement with the Congress, he claimed, ‘would be unlikely materially to improve our contributions in terms of either men or of supply’. Besides, they had to consider the position of Muslims who would be ‘submerge[d]’ and of the princes who were to be ‘steam-rolled’ under the Congress’s proposals. All this reinforced his earlier views: ‘I am … strongly in favour of taking no action, and of lying back.’75 The viceroy revealingly added: ‘I am not too keen to start talking about a period after which British rule will have ceased in India. I suspect that day is very remote and I feel the least we say about it in all probability the better.’76 So much for all the unctuous assurances about progressing India towards self-rule.
On the League’s resolution, Linlithgow feigned surprise. Jinnah, he wrote, may have put forward this scheme to ‘dispose of the reproach that Muslims have no constructive scheme of their own’. He himself saw the statement as ‘very largely in the nature of bargaining’ and rife with inconsistencies. Yet the declaration had raised ‘to a remarkable degree Jinnah’s prestige’ and cemented his claims to being the spokesman for all Muslims. More importantly, it had ‘offset extreme Congress claims to independence’ and its demands for a constituent assembly.77 Linlithgow argued that he was personally not in favour of assuaging Jinnah to the extent of recognizing the claim for partition of India. But in view of the Congress’s attitude, the League’s demand should be given sympathetic consideration. In particular, a ‘specific reference’ should be made in Parliament – and it should be bluntly stated – that ‘we cannot possibly ignore the views of 80 to 90 million Mussulmans in India’.78
India's War Page 4
