During the conference, the question of India’s independence served as a platform that brought together diverse groups and personalities that pressed the new organization to grant independence to India, as well as justice and equality for all colonial subjects.10 Prominent among these was Vijayalakshmi Pandit, the sister of Jawaharlal Nehru and seasoned member of the Congress. In a flurry of public speeches in San Francisco, Pandit lambasted the British government for speaking with a forked-tongue – freedom for the world and servitude for India – and urged the United States to give full effect to the Atlantic Charter. Much to the discomfort of Anglo-American officials, Pandit also circulated a memo to all conference attendees: ‘The recognition of India’s independence now will be a proclamation and an assurance to the whole world that the statesmen of the United Nations, assembled in this solemn conclave in San Francisco, have in truth and in honour heralded the dawn of a new and a better day for an all but crucified humanity.’11
Less politically charged was India’s participation in the Bretton Woods Conference of July 1944. This conference sought to mould the post-war international monetary and financial order.12 As in San Francisco, India was the only non-independent country at the conference. The Indian delegation at Bretton Woods was led by Jeremy Raisman, finance member of the Executive Council, and included C. D. Deshmukh, governor of the Reserve Bank of India, Ardeshir Shroff, and Sir Shanmukham Chetty, who went on to become independent India’s first finance minister. The Indian delegation’s efforts at Bretton Woods were driven by four main considerations.
In the first place, India wanted to expand the remit of the proposed International Monetary Fund (IMF) to include economic development. The Indian case, Deshmukh later explained,
rested on the proposition that poverty and plenty are infectious and that if the operation of an international body like that projected [at Bretton Woods] was not to grow lopsided, it was necessary to pay special attention to the development of countries like India with resources awaiting development. Our appeal was to enlightened self-interest.13
The Indian delegation also emphasized the need to ensure balanced international trade for underdeveloped countries. Merely increasing the volume of raw material exports and manufactured imports would not suffice. The industrial needs of countries like India had to be taken into account. The delegation tabled two amendments to the articles of the Fund reflecting these concerns. While its call for the inclusion of development was not taken on board, the point about balanced trade was incorporated.
The second, and most important, objective was to ensure an equitable settlement of the sterling balances. As the largest holder of sterling balances, India proposed an amendment to the articles, calling for the settlement of ‘abnormal indebtedness arising out of the war’. When British and American delegates opposed it, Shroff argued that ‘we never intended the International Monetary Fund … to take over straightaway in one lump sum the entire accumulated credit balances during the war’. They only sought ‘multilateral convertibility for a reasonable portion of these accumulated balances’. Indeed, the Indian delegation was aiming at no more than a gold and dollar overdraft against a part of the balances, which could be deployed for India’s development plans while Britain rebuilt its capacity for exports to India. By refusing to accept India’s point, Shroff quipped, ‘You are placing us in a situation which I compare to the position of a man with a $1 million balance in the bank but not enough sufficient cash to pay his taxi fare.’14
The British opposition to this move was not surprising. Their delegation was led by John Maynard Keynes, who had been in any event been uneasy over the piling up of sterling balances. To his credit, however, Keynes did not stick to his earlier position. He expressed
Britain’s gratitude to those Allies, particularly our Indian friends who put their resources at our disposal without stint and themselves suffered from privation as a result. Our effort would have been gravely, perhaps critically, embarrassed if they had held back from helping us so wholeheartedly and on so great a scale.
This was a gracious acknowledgement of India’s contribution to the war. But Keynes went on to insist that the sterling balances were ‘a matter between those directly concerned’. He would accord no role to the IMF in the matter; nor would he offer any assurance to India on the convertibility of sterling into dollars or gold. Keynes stated, however, that Britain would ‘settle honourably what was honourably and generously given’.15 This assurance helped allay, to some extent, the deep misgivings in India about its sterling balances.
The third aim of the delegation was to ensure a satisfactory quota for India in the Fund. The initial allocation suggested by the Americans in March 1944 was just $300 million – half of that for China. The Indian government bridled at this proposal: ‘India’s international liabilities both actual and potential are likely to be considerably more important than those of China … Indian public opinion is likely to be extremely sensitive on the size of the quota and any attempt to put India below China would … gravely imperil the acceptability of the scheme.’ In consequence, the quota for India announced at the conference was raised to $400 million, while China’s was reduced to $550 million. The Indian delegation remained dissatisfied. As Raisman argued, ‘It is not only a question of India’s size, nor alone of her population, but that on purely economic criteria India is an important part of the world and will be an even more important part in the years to come.’16 India could do no more than register its reservation. Keynes had had a hand in increasing India’s quota to $400 million. But when the Indians wanted more, ‘Keynes, who received them, lying on his couch [he was unwell] … railed them on their ingratitude and urged with much force that they now had an excellent case to present at home … All this was without much visible effect.’17
This was because the question of quotas was linked to the final objective of the Indian delegation: a permanent seat on the Executive Board of the IMF. The board was conceived as having five executive directors. And India ranked sixth in the quota allotted to it by the Fund. Despite its best efforts, the delegation was unable to persuade the others to increase the number of permanent seats to six. Although disappointed on many counts, the Indian government signed up to the articles in December 1945, so making India a founder member of both the IMF and the World Bank. In the event, the Soviet Union’s decision to pull out of the IMF enabled India to secure a permanent seat on the Executive Board. Yet Shroff and Chetty felt that they could have done much better – especially on sterling balances – if their delegation had been led by an Indian.18
India’s post-war development and international role depended crucially on politics. After being shut in the green room for almost three years, politics returned to centre stage following the surrender of Germany in May 1945. Towards the end of June 1945, Wavell convened a political conference in Simla. Twenty-two Indian leaders of all persuasions were invited. The viceroy sought their co-operation in reconstituting his Executive Council. He proposed ‘parity’ between the ‘Caste Hindus’ and the Muslims in nominating representatives to the Council. Although the Congress was not pleased with the idea of parity, it saw the measure as a step towards the formation of an interim government at the centre. The Congress agreed to join an Executive Council consisting of five ‘Caste Hindus’, five Muslims and two ‘minor minorities’.19
Wavell was prepared to concede the Muslim League’s demand that the Congress should not nominate any Muslim representative. Jinnah wanted more. He insisted on Hindu–Muslim parity in the Executive Council. Moreover, he claimed that all the Muslim members should be nominated by the Muslim League. In doing so, Jinnah sought to drive home two points. First, the Hindus and the Muslims were two nations, and hence entitled to equal representation in an interim arrangement. Second, Jinnah should be the ‘sole spokesman’ for the Muslims of India.
This was a bold, not to say extraordinary, claim. For at the time of the conference, the Muslim League was out of office in all the Muslim-majo
rity provinces with the sole exception of Sindh. However, the Congress’s political exit after the Quit India movement had enabled the Muslim League to make deep inroads into Punjab and Bengal. And Jinnah knew that despite appearances he was playing a strong hand. Wavell stuck to his initial formula, but suggested that of the five Muslim members the League could nominate four. The fifth would be nominated by the Punjab Unionist Party, which ran the provincial government in Punjab. Faced with Jinnah’s persistent opposition, the viceroy decided to call off the conference. The aborted conference proved a victory for the Muslim League. The party had shown that it was a critical player at the all-India level and held a veto on any move towards a transfer of power.
In the aftermath of the Simla conference, Wavell announced elections. These would serve two purposes: to form governments in the provinces and to create a central legislature that would work towards a fresh constitutional structure for India.
By the time elections were held, a Labour Party government led by Clement Attlee had come to power in Britain. Leaders of the new government were sympathetic to Indian demands for self-rule, but they were also keenly aware of Britain’s weakened imperial position following the Second World War. The Attlee government wished to rid itself of the incubus of governing India and to restructure the imperial system for the exigencies of the post-war international order. As far as the subcontinent was concerned, its policies were mainly shaped by strategic considerations. The large standing army and the vast reservoir of potential military manpower; the well-developed strategic infrastructure; the rich natural resources and industrial potential; India’s importance in securing sea lines of communication in the Indian Ocean, and in defending the Middle East and the Far East – all of these mandated both preserving Indian unity and ensuring India’s continued presence in the Commonwealth.20
Developments in India, however, cast a shadow on these aspirations and affected the negotiations on the transfer of power. Indeed, the high politics of negotiations comprised only one strand of a complex story. It is easy to focus exclusively on the minutiae of the negotiations – not least because they are so well documented. But it is erroneous to assume that these were insulated from the wider currents swirling in Indian society in the aftermath of the war.
For a start, the army’s recruitment drive had relied on highly inflationary rhetoric about the country’s post-war prospects: from large transportation companies to vocation training for industrial jobs, from new irrigation canals to co-operative savings banks – all were promised.21 This naturally raised equally high hopes among the soldiers. Coupled with a less than satisfactorily organized demobilization process, this set the stage for the emergence of widespread disturbances in the Indian armed forces in the aftermath of the war.22
More importantly, the experience of war had raised the political and social awareness of Indian soldiers and officers. As one Indian air force officer put it, ‘I am sure the Indians who are fighting now in this war will be the real reformers of India. I am not a politician but … you can be sure of one thing, definitely India must be reformed on the lines of modern thought.’23 Even groups within the ‘martial classes’ that were deemed thoroughly apolitical came out of the war with expanded horizons. As a Pashtun soldier who had fought in North Africa and Italy told the British official Malcolm Darling: ‘We suffered in the war but you didn’t … we bore with this that we might be free.’24
Then there was the inevitable post-war economic slump. The contraction of government demand after the war left considerable idle capacity in industries and many workers without jobs. Those lucky to retain their jobs found their salaries shrinking, as businesses and state enterprises took the opportunity to reduce the ‘dearness allowance’ paid during the war. Then, too, the inflation, black-marketeering and scarcity produced by the war persisted into the post-war years. In 1946, nearly half of India’s population was subject to food rationing. This in turn led to protests by farmers against forcible requisitioning, and increased trading in black markets. All in all, these conditions frayed the social fabric of communities, especially in the bigger cities. And they set the context for popular mobilization of various kinds.
The first major movement was touched off by the British decision to prosecute three officers of the Indian National Army. During the campaigns of 1944–45, the Fourteenth Army had taken into custody a large number of INA soldiers as well as some officers. The British were determined to prosecute them as traitors. But they were dismayed at the attitude of Indian officers and soldiers towards the INA, including those who had fought against it. Colonel John Heard, the architect of the ‘Josh’ programme aimed at countering INA propaganda, received the ‘biggest shock’ when he reached Rangoon in 1945 and discussed with Indian officers and men the subject of the INA.
Mainly the reaction was one of praise!! Hadn’t the I.N.A. safeguarded Indian civilians from the Japs and the Burmese? Wasn’t it a fact that the I.N.A. guarded the banks from looting and maintained order in the town until it could be handed over to the British and Indian Army? So they were misguided chaps, but … they were Indians and worth their salt after all.
Heard found that even soldiers with thirty years’ service in the Indian army and unquestioned loyalty towards their British officers were ‘not inclined to dismiss these I.N.A. as traitors though they were not willing to reclaim them as heroes’. In other, especially technical, units that contained a greater proportion of educated men from outside the ‘martial classes’, ‘the reaction was even more definite with almost a sense of gratitude that at least somehow the idea of independence had been made into a reality even if it was only an army one’.25 Military intelligence similarly found that ‘throughout Burma Indian troops had an undisguised admiration for the I.N.A. … I did not meet any officer or I.O.R. [Indian Other Ranks] who did not sympathise with the I.N.A.’26
Back in India too the soldiers of the INA were widely admired. Even those who believed that they had been wrong in joining forces with the Japanese tended to feel that they were true patriots. Once it became clear that soldiers and officers of the INA were likely to face prosecution, there was widespread demand for their release. The Congress leadership was quick to tap into this wave of protest. A national defence fund was instituted, and some of the best Indian lawyers offered to act as defence counsel for INA men put on trial. But Congress leaders were also concerned that the future Indian army should not be divided by factions originating in the war.
The British initially resisted the campaign to release the INA soldiers. They were particularly keen to prosecute an estimated 7,000 men who had flogged and tortured fellow Indian soldiers who had refused to join the INA. They were also concerned that the INA issue should not aggravate communal tensions. The INA had attracted a substantial number of Sikhs. Some Muslim soldiers from the north-west now looked upon Subhas Bose and his followers as traitors. But in November 1945, the authorities decided that given the support for the INA among both the armed forces and the populace, the safest option was to release all the INA men except those officers who were specifically accused of brutality against fellow soldiers. Much to their chagrin, the released INA men were received rapturously, garlanded and feted everywhere as heroes.27
The decision to prosecute some officers was taken on two considerations. There was an undoubted desire for retribution. More importantly, British officials, including the viceroy, feared that the Congress would use the INA to spearhead another revolt. On 5 November 1945, the military trial against Captain Shahnawaz Khan, Captain P. K. Sehgal, and Lieutenant G. S. Dhillon commenced in Delhi’s Red Fort. They were accused of torturing and executing INA soldiers who had tried to switch sides yet again and rejoin the British forces towards the end of the war.
Jawaharlal Nehru, Bhulabhai Desai and Tej Bahadur Sapru were among the defence lawyers. The arguments between the prosecution and defence continued for several days. Court transcripts were published every day and eagerly consumed by the Indian public. The unwitting dec
ision to try together a Muslim, a Hindu and a Sikh officer added to the symbolic import of the proceedings. Unsurprisingly, the trial led to a countrywide wave of protest. The government’s intelligence agencies reported that seldom had a matter attracted so much public attention and sympathy. They also noted that the sentiment cut across communal barriers.
An ‘INA week’ was celebrated starting 5 November 1945; 12 November was observed as ‘INA day’. The campaign attracted a wide range of people who attended protest meetings, donated money to the INA relief fund, and shut down shops and other commercial outfits. The protests turned violent following an incident where the police fired on a group of protestors on 7 November. Three weeks later rioting occurred in various parts of the country, starting with Subhas Bose’s hometown, Calcutta. Students, taxi drivers and tramway workers clashed with the police. Thirty-three were killed and nearly two hundred injured in the clashes that went on for three days. Anti-government riots also erupted in Allahabad, Banaras, Karachi, Patna and Rawalpindi, among other towns.
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