THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA , CHAPTER -9

CHAPTER NINE 

THE LAST PHASE (3) 

World War II 

The Congress Develops a Foreign Policy 



THE NATIONAL CONGRESS, LIKE ALL OTHER POLITICAL ORGANIZATIONS 

in India, was for long entirely engrossed in internal politics and 
paid little attention to foreign developments. In the nineteen- 
twenties it began to take some interest in foreign affairs. No 
other organization did so except the small groups of socialists and 
communists. Moslem organizations were interested in Palestine 
and occasionally passed resolutions of sympathy for the Moslem 
Arabs there. The intense nationalism of Turkey, Egypt, and Iran 
was watched by them but not without some apprehension, as 
it was secular, and was leading to reforms which were not wholly 
in keeping with their ideas of Islamic traditions. The Congress 
gradually developed a foreign policy which was based on the 
elimination of political and economic imperialism everywhere 
and the co-operation of free nations. This fitted in with the demand 
for Indian independence. As early as 1920 a resolution on foreign 
policy was passed by the Congress, in which our desire to co-operate 
with other nations and especially to develop friendly relations with 
all our neighbouring countries was emphasized. The possibility 
of another large-scale war was later considered, and in 1927, 
twelve years before World War II actually started, the Congress 
first declared its policy in regard to it. 

This was five or six years before Hitler came into power and 
before Japanese aggression in Manchuria had begun. Mussolini 
was consolidating himself in Italy but did not then appear as a 
major threat to world peace. Fascist Italy was on friendly terms 
with England and British statesmen expressed their admiration 
for the Duce. There were a number of petty dictators in Europe, 
also usually on good terms with the British Government. Between 
England and Soviet Russia, however, there was a complete 
breach; there had been the Arcos raid and withdrawal of diplo- 
matic representatives. In the League of Nations and the Inter- 
national Labour Office British and French policy was definitely 
conservative. In the interminable discussions on disarmament, 

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when every other country represented in the League, as well as 
the U.S.A., were in favour ofthe total abolition of aerial bombard- 
ment, Britain made some vital reservations. For many years the 
British Government had used aircraft, for 'police purposes' it was 
called, for bombing towns and villages in Iraq and the North- West 
Frontier of India. This 'right' was insisted upon, thus preventing 
any general agreement on this subject in the League and later 
in the Disarmament Conference. 

Germany — the Weimar republican Germany — had become a 
full member of the League of Nations, and Locarno had been 
hailed as a forerunner of perpetual peace in Europe and a triumph 
of British policy. Another view of all these developments was that 
Soviet Russia was being isolated and a joint front against her was 
being created in Europe. Russia had just celebrated the tenth 
anniversary of her revolution and had developed friendly ties 
with various eastern countries — Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, and 
Mongolia. 

The Chinese revolution had also advanced with great strides 
and the nationalist armies had taken possession of half of China, 
coming into conflict with foreign, and especially British, interests 
in the port towns and the interior. Subsequently there had been 
internal trouble and a break-up of the Kuomintang into rival 
groups. 

The world situation seemed to be drifting towards a major 
conflict with England and France as heads of a European group 
of nations, and Soviet Russia associated with some eastern nations. 
The United States of America held aloof from both these groups; 
their intense dislike of communism kept them away from Russia, 
and their distrust of British policy and competition with British 
finance and industry, preventing them from associating them- 
selves with the British group. Over and above these considerations 
was the isolationist sentiment of America and the fear of being 
embroiled in European quarrels. 

In this setting Indian opinion inevitably sided with Soviet 
Russia and the eastern nations. This did not mean any wide- 
spread approval of communism, though a growing number were 
attracted to socialist thought. The triumphs of the Chinese 
revolution were hailed with enthusiasm as portents ofthe approach- 
ing freedom of India and ofthe elimination of European aggression 
in Asia. We developed an interest in nationalist movements in 
the Dutch East Indies and Indo-China, as well as the western 
Asiatic countries and Egypt. The conversion of Singapore into 
a great naval base and the development of Trincomalee harbour 
in Ceylon appeared as parts of the general preparations for the 
coming war, in which Britain would try to consolidate and 
strengthen her imperialist position and crush Soviet Russia and 
the rising nationalist movements of the east. 

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It was with this background that the National Congress began 
to develop its foreign policy in 1927. It declared that India could 
be no party to an imperialist war, and in no event should India 
be made to join any war without the consent of her people being 
obtained. In the years that followed, this declaration was frequently 
repeated and widespread propaganda was carried on in accord- 
ance with it. It became one of the foundations of Congress policy 
and, it was generally accepted, of Indian policy. No individual 
or organization in India opposed it. 

Meanwhile changes were taking place in Europe, and Hitler 
and nazism had risen. The Congress immediately reacted against 
these changes and denounced them, for Hitler and his creed 
seemed the very embodiment and intensification of the impe- 
rialism and racialism against which the Congress was struggling. 
Japanese aggression in Manchuria produced even stronger reac- 
tions because of sympathy for China. Abyssinia, Spain, the Sino- 
Japanese war, Czechoslovakia, and Munich, added to this 
strength of feeling and the tension of approaching war. 

But this coming war was likely to be different from the one 
that had been envisaged before Hitler had arisen. Even so, British 
policy had been almost continuously pro-fascist and pro-nazi and 
it was difficult to believe that it would suddenly change overnight 
and champion freedom and democracy. Its dominant imperialist 
outlook and desire to hold on to its empire would continue despite 
other developments; also its basic opposition to Russia and what 
Russia represented. But it became increasingly obvious that in 
spite of every desire to appease Hitler he was becoming a dominat- 
ing power in Europe, entirely upsetting the old balance and menac- 
ing the vital interests of the British Empire. War between Eng- 
land and Germany became probable, and if this broke out what 
then would our policy be? How would we reconcile the two 
dominating trends of our policy: Opposition to British imperialism 
and opposition to fascism and nazism? How would we bring in 
line our nationalism and our internationalism? It was a difficult 
question in the existing circumstances, difficult for us, but offering 
no difficulty if the British Government took a step to demonstrate 
to us that they had given up their imperialist policy in India and 
wanted to rely on popular goodwill. 

In a contest between nationalism and internationalism, 
nationalism was bound to win. That had happened in every 
country and in every crisis; in a country under foreign domina- 
tion, with bitter memories of continuous struggle and suffering, 
that was an inevitable and unavoidable consequence, England 
and France had played false to republican Spain and betrayed 
Czechoslovakia, and thus sacrificed internationalism for what 
they considered, wrongly as events proved, their national inter- 
ests. The United States of America had clung to isolationism, 

4!8 



in spite of their evident sympathy with England, France, and 
China, and their hatred of nazism and Japanese militarism and 
aggression. It was Pearl Harbour that flung them headlong into 
war. Soviet Russia, the very emblem of internationalism, had 
followed a strictly national policy, bringing confusion to many 
of her friends and sympathizers. It was the sudden and un- 
announced attack by the German armies that brought war to 
the U.S.S.R. The Scandinavian countries and Holland and 
Belgium tried to avoid war and entanglement in the vain hope 
of saving themselves, and yet were overwhelmed by it. Turkey 
has sat precariously for five years on the thin edge of a varying 
neutrality, governed solely by national considerations. Egypt, 
still a semi-colonial country in spite of its apparent independ- 
ence, itself one of the major battle areas, occupies a curious and 
anomalous position. For all practical purposes it is a belligerent 
country completely under the control of the armed forces of the 
United Nations, and yet apparently it is not a belligerent. 

There may be justification or excuse for all these policies 
adopted by various governments and countries. A democracy 
cannot easily jump into war without preparing its people and 
gaining their co-operation. Even an authoritarian state has to 
prepare the ground. But whatever the reason or justification may 
be, it is clear that whenever a crisis has occurred, national consi- 
derations, or what were considered to be such, have been para- 
mount and all others, which did not fit in with them, have been 
swept away. It was extraordinary how, during the Munich crises, 
the hundreds of international organizations, anti-fascist leagues, 
etc., in Europe were struck dumb and became powerless and 
ineffective. Individuals and small groups may become inter- 
nationally minded and may even be prepared to sacrifice personal 
and immediate national interests for a larger cause, but not so 
nations. It is only when international interests are believed to be 
in line with national interests that they arouse enthusiasm. 

A few months ago the London Economist, discussing British 
foreign policy, wrote: 'The only foreign policy that has any hope 
of being consistently pursued is one in which national interests 
are fully and obviously safeguarded. No nation puts the interests 
of the international community before its own. It is only if the two 
can be seen to coincide that there is any possibility of effective 
internationalism.' 

Internationalism can indeed only develop in a free country, 
for all the thought and energy of a subject country are directed 
towards the achievement of its own freedom. That subject con- 
dition is like a cancerous growth inside the body, which not 
only prevents any limb from becoming healthy but is a constant 
irritant to the mind and colours all thought and action. Conflict 
is inherent in it and such conflict leads to a concentration of 

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thought on it and prevents a consideration of wider issues. The 
history of a long succession of past conflicts and suffering be- 
comes the inseparable companion of both the individual and the 
national mind. It becomes an obsession, a dominating passion, 
which cannot be exorcised except by removing its root cause. 
And even then, when the sense of subjection has gone, the cure 
is slow, for the injuries of the mind take longer to heal than those 
of the body. 

All this background we have long had in India, and yet Gandhi 
gave a turn to our nationalist movement which lessened the 
feelings of frustration and bitterness. Those feelings continued but 
I do not know of any other nationalist movement which has been 
so free from hatred. Gandhi was an intense nationalist; he was 
also, at the same time, a man who felt he had a message not only 
for India but for the world, and he ardently desired world peace. 
His nationalism, therefore, had a certain world outlook and was 
entirely free from any aggressive intent. Desiring the independence 
of India, he had come to believe that a world federation of interde- 
pendent states was the only right goal, however distant that might 
be. He had said: 'My idea of nationalism is that my country may 
become free, that if need be the whole of the country may die, 
so that the human race may live. There is no room for race hatred 
here. Let that be our nationalism.' And again: 'I do want to 
think in terms of the whole world. My patriotism includes the good 
of mankind in general. Therefore, my service of India includes 

the services of humanity Isolated independence is not the 

goal of the world states. It is voluntary interdependence. The 
better mind of the world desires to-day not absolutely indepen- 
dent states, warring one against another, but a federation of 
friendly, inter-dependent states. The consummation of that event 
may be far off. I want to make no grand claims for our country. 
But I see nothing grand or impossible about our expressing our 
readiness for universal inter-dependence rather than independence. 
I desire the ability to be totally independent without asserting 
the independence.' 

As the nationalist movement grew in strength and self-con- 
fidence, many people began to think in terms of a free India: 
what she would be like, what she would do, and what her rela- 
tions with other countries would be. The very bigness and potential 
strength and resources of the country made them think in big 
terms. India could not be a mere hanger-on of any country or 
group of nations; her freedom and growth would make a vital 
difference to Asia and therefore to the world. That led inevitably 
to the conception of full independence and a severance of the 
bonds that tied her to England and her empire. Dominion status, 
even when that status approached independence, seemed an 
absurd limitation and a hindrance to full growth. The idea behind 

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dominion status, of a mother country closely connected with her 
daughter nations, all of them having a common cultural back- 
ground, seemed totally inapplicable to India. It meant certainly 
a wider sphere of international co-operation, which was desirable, 
but it also meant at the same time lesser co-operation with countries 
outside that empire or commonwealth group. It thus became 
a limiting factor, and our ideas, full of the promise of the future, 
overstepped these boundaries and looked to a wider co-operation. 
In particular, we thought of close relations with our neighbour 
countries in the east and west, with China, Afghanistan, Iran, 
and the Soviet Union. Even with distant America we wanted 
closer relations, for we could learn much from the United States 
as also from the Soviet Union. There was a feeling that we had 
exhausted our capacity for learning anything more from England, 
and in any event we could only profit by contact with each other 
after breaking the unhealthy bond that tied us and by meeting 
on equal terms. 

The racial discrimination and treatment of Indians in some 
of the British dominions and colonies were powerful factors in 
our determination to break from that group. In particular, South 
Africa was a constant irritant, and East Africa and Kenya, directly 
under the British colonial policy. Curiously enough we got on 
well, as individuals, with Canadians, Australians, and New 
Zealanders, for they represent a new tradition and were free 
from many of the prejudices and the social conservatism of the 
British. 

When we talked of the independence of India it was not in 
terms of isolation. We realized, perhaps more than many other 
countries, that the old type of complete national independence 
was doomed, and there must be a new era of world co-operation. 
We made it repeatedly clear, therefore, that we were perfectly 
agreeable to limit that independence, in common with other 
nations, within some international framework. That framework 
should preferably cover the world or as large a part of it as 
possible, or be regional. The British Commonwealth did not fit 
in with either of these conceptions, though it could be a part of 
the larger framework 

It is surprising how internationally minded we grew in spite 
of our intense nationalism. No other nationalist movement of a 
subject country came anywhere near this, and the general ten- 
dency in such other countries was to keep clear of international 
commitments. In India also there were those who objected to 
our lining up with republican Spain and China, Abyssinia and 
Czechoslovakia. Why antagonize powerful nations like Italy, 
Germany, and Japan, they said; every enemy of Britain should 
be treated as a friend; idealism has no place in politics, which 
concerns itself with power and the opportune use of it. But 

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these objectors were overwhelmed by the mass sentiment the 
Congress had created and hardly ever gave public expression to 
their views. The Moslem League remained throughout discreetly 
silent and never committed itself on any such international issue. 

In 1938 the Congress sent a medical unit consisting of a number 
of doctors and necessary equipment and material to China. For 
several years this unit did good work there. When this was orga- 
nized, Subhas Bose was president of the Congress. He did not 
approve of any step being taken by the Congress which was 
anti- Japanese or anti-German or anti-Italian. And yet such was 
the feeling in the Congress and the country that he did not 
oppose this or many other manifestations of Congress sympathy 
with China and the victims of fascist and nazi aggression. We 
passed many resolutions and organized many demonstrations of 
which he did not approve during the period of his presidentship, 
but he submitted to them without protest because he realized 
the strength of feeling behind them. There was a big difference 
in outlook between him and others in the Congress Executive, 
both in regard to foreign and internal matters, and this led to 
a break early in 1939. He then attacked Congress policy publicly 
and, early in August, 1939. the Congress Executive took the very 
unusual step of taking disciplinary action against him, one of its 
ex-presidents. 

The Congress Approach to War 

Thus the Congress laid down and frequently repeated a dual 
policy in regard to war. There was, on the one hand, opposition 
to fascism, nazism, and Japanese militarism, both because of 
their internal policies and their aggression against other coun- 
tries; there was intense sympathy with the victims of that aggres- 
sion; and there was a willingness to join up in any war or other 
attempt to stop this aggression. On the other hand, there was an 
emphasis on the freedom of India, not only because that was our 
fundamental objective for which we had continuously laboured, 
but also especially in relation to a possible war. For we reiterated 
that only a free India could take proper part in such a war; only 
through freedom could we overcome the bitter heritage of our 
past relations with Britain and arouse enthusiasm and mobilize 
our great resources. Without that freedom the war would be 
like any old war, a contest between rival imperialism, and an 
attempt to defend and perpetuate the British Empire as such. 
It seemed absurd and impossible for us to line up in defence of that 
very imperialism against which we had been struggling for so 
long. And even if a few of us, in view of larger considerations, 
considered that a lesser evil, it was utterly beyond our capacity 
to carry our people. Only freedom could release mass energy and 

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convert bitterness into enthusiasm for a cause. There was no 
other way. 

The Congress specially demanded that India should not be 
committed to any war without the consent of her people or their 
representatives, and that no Indian troops be sent for service 
abroad without such consent. The Central Legislative Assembly, 
consisting of various groups and parties, had also put forward 
this latter claim. It had long been a grievance of the Indian 
people that our armed forces were sent abroad for imperialist 
purposes and often to conquer or suppress other peoples with 
whom we had no quarrel whatever, and with whose efforts to 
regain their freedom we sympthized. Indian troops had been 
used as mercenaries for this purpose in Burma, China, Iran, 
and the Middle East, and parts of Africa. They have become 
symbols of British imperialism in all these countries and anta- 
gonized their peoples against India. I remember the bitter re- 
mark of an Egyptian: 'You have not only lost your own freedom 
but you help the British to enslave others.' 

The two parts of this dual policy did not automatically fit into 
each other; there was an element of mutual contradiction in 
them. But that contradiction was not of our creation; it was in- 
herent in the circumstances and was inevitably mirrored in any 
policy that arose from those circumstances. Repeatedly we pointed 
out the inconsistency of condemning fascism and nazism and 
maintaining imperialist domination. It was true that the former 
were indulging in horrid crimes whilst imperialism in India and 
elsewhere had stabilized itself. The difference was one of degree 
and of time, not of kind. The formet also were far away, some 
thing which we read about; the latter was always at our doorstep, 
surrounding all of us and pervading the entire atmosphere. We 
emphasized the absurdity of holding aloft the banner of demo- 
cracy elsewhere and denying it to us in India. 

Whatever inconsistency there might have been in our dual 
policy, no question of the doctrine of non-violence coming in the 
way of armed conflict for defence or against aggression arose. 

I was in England and on the continent of Europe in the sum- 
mer of 1938 and in speech, writing, and private conversation 
I explained this policy of ours, and pointed out the dangers of 
allowing matters to drift or to remain as they were. At the height 
of the Sudetenland crisis, anxious Czechs asked me what India 
was likely to do in case of war. Danger was too near and terrible 
for them to consider fine points and old grievances, nevertheless 
they appreciated what I said and agreed with the logic of it. 

About the middle of 1939 it became known that Indian troops 
had been despatched overseas, probably to Singapore and the 
Middle East. Immediately there was an outcry at this having 
been done without any reference to the representatives of the 

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people. It was recognized that troop movements during a period 
of crisis have often to be secret. Still there were many ways of 
taking representative leaders into confidence. There were the 
party leaders in the Central Assembly, and in every province 
there were popularly elected governments. In the normal course 
the Central Government had to consult and share confidence in 
many matters with these provincial ministers. But not even 
formal or nominal respect was shown to the people's representa- 
tives and the declared wishes of the nation. Steps were also being 
taken, through the British Parliament, to amend the Govern- 
ment of India Act of 1935 under which the provincial govern- 
ments were functioning, with a view to concentrating all power, 
in the event of a war emergency, in the Central Government. 
Normally, in a democratic country, this might have been a 
natural and reasonable step, if taken with the consent of the parties 
concerned. It is well known that federating states, provinces, or 
autonomous units in a federation are very jealous of their rights 
and do not easily agree to give them up to a central administration 
even in a period of crisis and emergency. This tug-of-war is 
continuous in the U.S.A. and, as I write this, a referendum in 
Australia has rejected the proposal to add to the powers of the 
Commonwealth Government at the expense of the states even 
for the purposes and duration of the war. And yet both in the 
U.S.A. and Australia the Central Government and legislature 
are popularly elected and consist of representatives of those very 
states. In India the Central Government was, and is, wholly 
irresponsible and authoritarian, not elected and not in any way 
responsible to the people generally or to the provinces. It func- 
tioned completely as an agent of the British Government. To 
add to its power at the expense of the provincial governments and 
legislatures meant weakening still further these popular provincial 
governments and striking at the very basis of provincial autonomy. 
This was deeply resented. It was felt that this was contrary to the 
assurances under which Congress governments had been formed, 
and indicated that, as previously, war would be imposed upon 
India without any reference to her chosen representatives. 

The Congress Executive expressed its strong dissent with this 
policy which it considered a deliberate flouting of the declara- 
tions both of the Congress and the Central Legislature. It declared 
that it must resist any imposition of this kind and could not agree 
to India being committed to far-reaching policies without the 
consent of her people. Again it stated (early in August 1939) 
that 'In this world crisis the sympathies of the Working Committee 
are entirely with the people who stand for democracy and free- 
dom and the Congress has repeatedly condemned fascist aggres- 
sion in Europe, Africa, and the far east of Asia, as well as the 
betrayal of democracy by British imperialism in Czechoslovakia 

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and Spain.' But, it was added, 'The past policy of the British Govern- 
ment as well as recent developments, demonstrated abundantly 
that this government does not stand for freedom and democracy 
and may at any time betray these ideals. India cannot associate 
herself with such a government or be asked to give her resources 
for democratic freedom which is denied to her and which is likely 
to be betrayed.' As a first step in protest against this policy, the 
Congress members of the Central Legislative Assembly were 
asked to refrain from attending the next session of the Assembly. 
This last resolution was passed three weeks before war actually 
broke out in Europe. It seemed that the Government of India, 
and the British Government behind it, were bent on ignoring 
completely Indian opinion, not only in regard to the major issues 
raised by the war crisis, but also on many minor matters. This 
policy was reflected in the attitudes of the Governors in the pro- 
vinces and the civil service administration which became more 
non-co-operative with the Congress governments. The position of 
these Congress provincial governments was becoming increasingly 
difficult, and strong sections of public opinion were excited and 
apprehensive. They feared that the British Government would 
act as it had done a quarter of a century earlier in 1914, impose 
the war on India, ignoring the provincial governments and public 
opinion and everything that had happened during this period, and 
make the war a cloak for suppressing such limited freedom as India 
had obtained and exploiting her resources without check. 

But much had happened during this quarter of a century 
and the mood of the people was very different. The idea of a great 
country like India being treated as a chattel and her people 
utterly and contemptuously ignored was bitterly resented. 
Was all the struggle and suffering of the past twenty years to 
count for nothing? Were the Indian people to shame the land 
from which they sprang by quietly submitting to this disgrace and 
humiliation? Many of them had learnt to resist what they consi- 
dered evil, and not to submit when such submission was considered 
shameful. They had willingly accepted the consequences of such 
non-submission. 

Then there were others, a younger generation, which had 
little personal experience of the nationalist struggle and what 
it had involved, and for whom even the civil disobedience move- 
ments of the twenties and early thirties were past history and 
nothing more. They had not been tested in the fire of experience 
and suffering and took many things for granted. They were critical 
of the older generation, considering it weak and compromising, 
and imagined that strong language was good substitute for action. 
They quarrelled amonsgst themselves over questions of personal 
leadership or fine points of political or economic doctrine. They 
discussed world affairs without knowing much about them; they 

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were immature and lacked ballast. There was good material in 
them, much enthusiasm for good causes, but somehow the 
general effect produced by them was disappointing and discourag- 
ing. Perhaps it was a temporary phase, which they would outgrow, 
which they may have outgrown already after the bitter experiences 
which they have since had. 

Whatever the other differences, all these groups within the 
nationalist ranks reacted in similar fashion to British policy 
towards India during the crisis. They were angered by it and 
called upon Congress to resist it. A proud and sensitive nation- 
alism did not want to submit to this humiliation. All other consi- 
derations became secondary. 

War was declared in Europe and immediately the Viceroy of 
India announced that India was also at war. One man, and he a 
foreigner and a representative of a hated system, could plunge 
four hundred millions of human beings into war without the 
slightest reference to them. There was something fundamentally 
wrong and rotten in a system under which the fate of these 
millions could be decided in this way. In the dominions the 
decision was taken by popular representatives after full debate 
and consideration of various points of view. Not so in India, 
and it hurt. 

Reaction to War 

I was in Chungking when the war began in Europe. The Cong- 
ress President cabled me to return immediately, and I hurried 
back. A meeting of the Congress Executive was being held when 
I arrived, and to this meeting Mr. M. A. Jinnah was also invited, 
but he expressed his inability to come. The Viceroy had not only 
committed India formally to the war but had issued a number 
of ordinances; the British Parliament had also passed the Govern- 
ment of India Amending Act. All these enactments circumscribed 
and limited the powers and activities of the provincial govern- 
ments and were resented, especially as no effort had been made to 
consult the people's representatives. Indeed, their oft-repeated 
wishes and declarations had been completely ignored. 

On September 14th, 1939, after long deliberation, the Cong- 
ress Working Committee issued a lengthy statement on the war 
crisis. The steps the Victory had taken and the new enactments 
and decrees were referred to and it was stated that 'the Working 
Committee must take the gravest view of these developments.' 
Fascism and nazism were condemned, and particularly 'the latest 
aggression of the nazi government in Germany against Poland,' 
and sympathy was expressed for those who resisted it. 

While co-operation was offered it was added that 'any imposed 
decision., .will necessarily have to be opposed by them. If co- 

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operation is desired in a worthy cause, this cannot be obtained 
by compulsion and imposition, and the Committee cannot agree 
to the carrying out by the Indian people of orders issued by 
external authority. Co-operation must be between equals by 
mutual consent for a cause which both consider to be worthy. 
The people of India have, in the recent past, faced grave risks 
and willingly made great sacrifices to secure their own freedom 
and establish a free democratic state in India, and their sym- 
pathy is entirely on the side of democracy and freedom. But 
India cannot associate herself in a war said to be for democratic 
freedom when that very freedom is denied to her, and such limited 
freedom as she possesses taken away from her. 

'The Committee are aware that the Governments of Great 
Britain and France have declared that they are fighting for 
democracy and freedom and to put an end to aggression. But 
the history of the recent past is full of examples showing the 
constant divergence between the spoken word, the ideals pro- 
claimed, and the real motives and objectives.' Certain past 
events, during and after World War I, were referred to and then: 
'Subsequent history has demonstrated afresh how even a seemingly 
fervent declaration of faith may be followed by an ignoble deser- 
tion. . . .Again it is asserted that democracy is in danger and must 
be defended, and with this statement the Committee are in entire 
agreement. The Committee believe that the peoples of the west 
are moved by this ideal and objective, and for these they are 
prepared to make sacrifices; but again and again the ideals and 
sentiments of the people and of those who have sacrificed them- 
selves in the struggle have been ignored and faith has not been 
kept with them. 

'If the war is to defend the status quo, imperialist possessions, 
colonies, vested interests, and privilege, then India can have 
nothing to do with it. If, however, the issue is democracy and a 
world order based on democracy, then India is intensely interest- 
ed in it. The Committee are convinced that the interests of Indian 
democracy do not conflict with the interests of British democracy 
or of world democracy; but there is an inherent and ineradicable 
conflict between democracy for India and elsewhere and imperia- 
lism and fascism. If Great Britain fights for the maintenance and 
extension of democracy, tnen she must necessarily end imperia- 
lism in her own possessions... .A free democratic India will 
gladly associate herself with other free nations for mutual defence 
against aggression and for economic co-operation. She will work 
for the establishment of a real world order based on freedom 
and democracy, utilising the world's kowledge and resources for 
the progress and advancement of humanity.' 

The Congress Executive, nationalist as it was, took an inter- 
national view and considered the war as something much more 

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than a conflict of armed forces. 'The crisis that has overtaken 
Europe is not of Europe only but of humanity, and will not pass 
like other crises or wars, leaving the essential strucure of the 
present-day world intact. It is likely to re-fashion the world for 
good or ill, politically, socially, and economically. This crisis is 
the inevitable consequence of the social and political conflicts 
and contradictions which have grown alarmingly since the last 
Great War, and it will not be finally resolved till these conflicts 
and contradictions are removed and a new equilibrium estab- 
lished. That equilibrium can only be based on the ending of 
the domination and exploitation of one country by another, and 
on a reorganization of economic relations on a more just basis 
for the common good of all. India is the crux of the problem, for 
India has been the outstanding example of modern imperialism, 
and no re-fashioning of the world can succeed which ignores this 
vital problem. With her vast resources she must play an important 
part in any scheme of world reorganization; but she can only do 
so as a free nation whose energies have been released to work for 
this great end. Freedom to-day is indivisible, and every attempt 
to retain imperialist domination in any part of the world will 
lead inevitably to fresh disaster.' 

The Committee proceeded to refer to the offers of Rulers of 
Indian states to support the cause of democracy in Europe, and 
suggested that it would be fitting if they introduced democracy 
within their own states, where undiluted autocracy prevailed. 

The Committee again stated their eagerness to help in every 
way but expressed their apprehension at the trend of British 
policy both in the past and present in which they failed 'to find 
any attempt to advance the cause of democracy or self-deter- 
mination or any evidence that the present war declarations of 
the British Government are being, or are going to be, acted 
upon.' They added, however, that in view 'of the gravity of the 
occasion and the fact that the pace of events during the last few 
days has often been swifter than the working of men's minds, 
the Committee desire to take no final decision at this stage, so 
as to allow for full elucidation of the issues at stake, the real 
objectives aimed at, and the position of India in the present and 
in the future.' They invited therefore 'the British Government 
to declare in unequivocal terms what their war aims are in regard 
to democracy and imperialism and the new order that is envisaged, 
in particular, how these aims are going to apply to India and to 
be given effect to in the present. Do they include elimination of 
imperialism and the treatment of India as a free nation whose 
policy will be guided in accordance with the wishes of her peo- 
ple?. . . .The real test of any declaration is its application in the 
present, for it is the present that will govern action to-day and 
give shape to the future It will be infinite tragedy if even this 

428" 



terrible war is carried on in the spirit of imperialism and for the 
purpose of retaining this structure which is itself the cause of war 
and human degradation.' 

This statement, issued after anxious deliberation, was an 
attempt to overcome the barriers that had arisen between India 
and England and poisoned their relations for a century and a 
half, to find some way to reconcile our eagerness to join in this 
world struggle with popular enthusiasm behind us, and our 
passionate desire for freedom. The assertion of India's right to 
freedom was no new thing; it was not the result of the war or 
the international crisis. It had long been the very basis for all 
our thoughts and activities, round which we had revolved for 
many generations. There was no difficulty whatever in making a 
clear declaration of India's freedom and then adapting this to 
existing circumstances, keeping the needs of the war in view. 
Indeed the very necessities of the war demanded it. If England 
had the desire and the will to acknowledge India's freedom, 
every major difficulty vanished and what remained was capable 
of adjustment with the consent of the parties concerned. In 
every province provincial governments were functioning. It was 
easy to evolve a popular central apparatus of government for 
the war period, which would organize the war effort on an 
efficient and popular basis, co-operate fully with the armed 
forces, and be a link between the people and the provincial 
governments on the one hand, and the British Government on 
the other. Other constitutional problems could be postponed 
till after the war, though of course it was desirable to attempt 
to solve them even earlier. After the war the elected representa- 
tives of the people would draw up the permanent constitution 
and enter into a treaty with England in regard to our mutual 
interests. 

It was no easy matter for the Congress Executive to make this 
offer to England when most of our people had little apprecia- 
tion of the international issues involved and were expressing 
their resentment at recent British policy. We knew that long- 
standing distrust and suspicion on both sides could not vanish 
away by some magic word. Yet we hoped that the very stress of 
events would induce England's leaders to come out of their 
imperialist grooves, take a long view and accept our offer, thus 
ending the long feud between England and India, and releasing 
India's enthusiasm and resources for the war. 

But that was not to be, and their answer was a refusal of all 
we had asked for. It became clear to us that they did not want 
us as friends and colleagues but as a slave people to do their 
bidding. We used the same word 'co-operation,' but a different 
meaning was attached to it by either party. For us co-operation 
was to be between comrades and equals; for them it meant their 

429" 



commanding and our obeying without demur. It was impossible 
for us to accept this position without abandoning and betraying 
everything we had stood for and that had given some meaning 
to our lives. And even if some of us had been willing to do so 
we could not have carried our people with us; we would have 
been stranded, isolated, and cut off' from the living currents of 
nationalism, as well as from the internationalism that we envisaged. 

The position of our provincial governments became difficult 
and the choice for them was submission to continuous inter- 
ference by the Governor and the Viceroy or conflict with them. 
The superior services were wholly on the Governor's side and 
looked upon the ministers and the legislature, even more than 
before, as intruders. Again there was the old constitutional con- 
flict between an autocratic king or his representatives and a 
parliament, with this addition, that the former were foreigners 
basing their rule on armed force. It was decided that the Con- 
gress governments in the eight provinces out of eleven (all except 
Bengal, Punjab, and Sind) should resign in protest. Some were 
of opinion that instead of resigning they should carry on and thus 
invite dismissal by the Governor. It was clear that in view of the 
inherent conflict, which was daily becoming more obvious, clashes 
between them and the governors were inevitable and if they did 
not resign, they would be dismissed from office. They took the 
strictly constitutional course of resigning and thus inviting a 
dissolution of the legislature and fresh elections. As big majorities 
were behind them in the Igislatures no other ministries could be 
formed. The governors, however, were anxious to avoid new 
elections as they knew well enough that these would result in the 
overwhelming triumph of the Congress. They did not dissolve 
the legislatures but merely suspended them, and assumed all the 
powers of the provincial governments and legislatures. They 
became completely autocratic heads of provinces, making laws, 
issuing decrees, and doing everything else they wanted to without 
the slightest reference to any elected body or to public opinion. 

British spokesmen have often asserted that the Congress Exe- 
cutive acted in an authoritarian manner in calling upon the 
provincial governments to resign. This is an odd charge, coming 
from those who have been functioning in a more autocractic and 
authoritarian manner than anyone outside the fascist and nazi 
countries. As a matter of fact the very foundation of Congress 
policy, on which members of the legislatures had been elected 
and provincial governments had been formed after assurances 
from the Viceroy, was freedom of action in the provincial sphere 
and no interference by Governor or Viceroy. This interference 
was now a frequent occurrence and even the statutory powers 
of the provincial governments, given under the Government of 
India Act of 1935, had been further limited. These statutory 

430" 



powers of the provinces were now overridden for war purposes 

by an amendment of the Act by the British Parliament. The 
discretion when and where to interfere in the provinces was left 
entirely to the Government of India, which meant the Viceroy, 
and no statutory safeguards were left to protect the powers of 
the provincial governments, which could carry on only on 
sufferance. The Viceroy and Governor-General, with the assured 
co-operation of his nominated executive council, could override, 
under cloak of war necessity, every decision of the provincial 
governments and legislatures. No responsible ministry could 
function in these circumstances; it would either come into con- 
flict with the Governor and the services or with the legislature 
and its constituents. Each legislature, where there was a Congress 
majority, formally adopted the demand of the Congress after 
the war began, and the rejection of this demand by the Viceroy, 
inevitably meant conflict or resignation. The general feeling 
among the rank and file was for launching a struggle with the 
British power. The Congress Executive was, however, anxious 
to avoid this as far as possible and took the milder course. It 
was easy for the British Government to test the feeling of the 
people generally or of the voters by having general elections. 
They avoided this because they had no doubt that elections 
would result in overwhelming Congress victories. 

In the major provinces of Bengal and the Punjab and in the 
small province of Sind, there were no resignations. In both 
Bengal and Punjab the Governors and the superior services had 
all along played a dominant role and hence no conflict could 
arise. Even so, in Bengal on a later occasion the Governor did 
not like the Prime Minister and forced him and his ministry 
to resign. In Sind also, at a later stage, the Prime Minister 
addressed a letter to the Viceroy criticising the British Gov- 
ernment's policy and, as a protest, gave up an honour conferred 
on him by that Government. He did not resign. The Viceroy, 
however, made the Governor dismiss him from the premiership 
because of this letter, which was not considered in keeping with 
the viceregal dignity. 

It is nearly five years since the Congress provincial govern- 
ments resigned. During this entire period there has been one- 
man rule, the Governor's in each of the provinces and we have 
gone back, under the pretext and in the fog of war, to the full- 
blooded autocracy of the middle-nineteenth century. The civil 
service and the police are supreme and if any of their number, 
English or Indian, shows the slightest disinclination to carry 
out the ruthless policy of the British Government, the gravest 
displeasure is visited on him. Much of the work done by the 
Congress governments has been undone and their schemes have 
been liquidated. Fortunately, some of the tenancy legislation 

431" 



has remained, but even this is often interpreted against the in- 
terests of the tenants. 

During the last two years, in the three minor provinces of 
Assam, Orissa, and the North-West Frontier, provincial govern- 
ments have been reconstituted by the very simple device of 
imprisoning a number of members of the legislatures, and thus 
converting a minority into a majority. In Bengal the existing 
ministry depends entirely on the support of the large European 
bloc. The Orissa ministry did not survive for long and that pro- 
vince reverted to the Governor's one-man rule. In the Fron- 
tier Province a ministry continued to function, though it had no 
majority to back it, and hence a meeting of the Legislature was 
avoided. In the Punjab and Sind special executive orders were 
passed on Congress members of the legislatures (those out of 
prison) preventing them from attending the sessions of the legisla- 
tive assemblies or participating in any public activities.* 

Another Congress Offer and its Rejection 
by the British Government. Mr. Winston Churchill 

The change-over to autocratic and one-man rule in eight of the 
provinces was not a mere substitution of the people at the top, 
such as a change in ministries might indicate. It was a radical 
and organic change affecting the whole spirit, policy, and methods 
of the entire state organization. The legislatures and the various 
popular checks on the executive and the permanent services vanished, 
and the approach of the civil service, from the Governor downwards, 
and of the police service, towards the public became different. 
It was not merely a reversion and setback to the days before the 
Congress governments had come into power. It was much worse. 
In so-called law it was a going back to the unchecked autocracy 
of the nineteenth century. In practice it was harsher, as the old 
confidence and paternalism were absent, and all the fear and passion 
of a long-established vested interest which was breaking up, per- 
vaded the British element in the administration. The two and a 
quarter years of Congress governments had been hard to bear, 
the carrying out of the policy and orders of those who could always 
be sent to prison if they gave trouble had not been pleasant. Now 
there was a desire not only to resume the old thread but also to 
put these trouble-makers in their proper places. Everyone, the 
peasant in the field, the worker in the factory, the artisans, and 
the shopkeepers, the industrialists, the professional classes, the 
young men and women in colleges, the subordinate services, and 
even those Indians in the higher ranks of the services who had 

* Early in 1945 the Frontier Legislative Assembly had at last to meet for the budget 
session. The Ministry was defeated on a vote of confidence and resigned. A Congress 
Ministry, with Dr. Khan Sahib as Premier, then took office. 

432" 



shown any enthusiasm for the popular governments, must be 
made to realize that British Raj still functioned and had to be 
reckoned with. It was that Raj that would determine their in- 
dividual future and their chances of preferment, and not some 
temporary intruders from outside. Those who had functioned 
as the secretaries of the ministers were now the bosses, acting 
under the Governor, and spoke again in their old superior way; 
the district magistrates resumed their old functions of gauleiters 
for their respective areas; the police felt freer to revert to old 
habits, knowing well that they would be supported and pro- 
tected from above even when they misbehaved. The fog of war 
could be made to cover everything. 

Many even of the critics of Congress governments viewed this 
prospect with dismay. They remembered now many of the virtues 
of those governments and expressed their strong displeasure at 
their resignation. According to them, they should have held on 
whatever the consequences. Curiously enough even members of 
the Moslem League were apprehensive. 

If this was the reaction of non-Congressmen and critics of the 
Congress governments, the reaction of the members and sympa- 
thisers of the Congress, and the members of the legislatures can 
well be imagined. The ministers had resigned from their offices 
but not from membership of the legislature, nor had the speakers 
and the members of these legislatures resigned. Nevertheless they 
were pushed aside and ignored, and no fresh elections were held. 
Even from a purely constitutional point of view this was not easy 
to tolerate and would have produced a crisis in any country. A 
powerful, semi-revolutionary organization like the Congress, 
representing the nationalist sentiment of the country, and with 
a long record of struggle for freedom behind it, could not passively 
accept this autocratic one-man rule It could not just be a specta- 
tor of what was happening, more especially as this was directed 
against it. There were strong and repeated demands for positive 
action to counter this suppression of the legislatures and of public 
activity generally and the whole policy of the Br itish Government 
in regard to India. 

After the refusal of the British Government to state their war 
aims or to make any advance in India, the Congress Working 
-Committee had declared: 'The answer to this demand (of the 
Congress) has been entirely unsatisfactory and an attempt has 
been made on behalf of the British Government to create mis- 
understanding and to befog the main and moral issue The 

Committee can only interpret this attempt to avoid a statement 
of war aims and Indian freedom, by taking shelter under irre- 
levant issues, as a desire to maintain imperialist domination of 
India in alliance with the reactionary elements in the country. 
The Congress has looked upon the war crisis and the problems 

•433 



it raises as essentially a moral issue, and has not sought to profit 
by it in any spirit of bargaining. The moral and dominant issue 
of war aims and India's freedom has to be settled satisfactorily 
before any other subsidiary question can be considered. In no 
event can the Congress accept the responsibility of government, 
even in the transitional period, without real power being given 
to popular representatives.' 

The Committee went on to say that because of the declara- 
tions made on behalf of the British Government, the Congress 
had been compelled to dissociate itself from British policy and, 
as a first step in non-co-operation, the Congress Governments 
in the provinces had resigned. The general policy of non-co- 
operation continued, and would have to continue unless the 
British Government revised its policy. 'The Working Committee 
would, however, remind Congressmen that it is inherent in every 
form of Satyagraha that no effort is spared to achieve an honour- 
able settlement with the opponent The Working Committee 

will, therefore, continue to explore the means of arriving at an 
honourable settlement, even though the British Government 
has banged the door in the face of the Congress.' 

In view of the excitement prevailing in the country and the 
possibility of young men taking to violent courses, the Com- 
mittee reminded the country of the basic policy of non-violence 
and warned it against any breach of it. Even if there was to be 
any civil resistance it must be wholly peaceful. Further that 
'Satyagraha means goodwill towards all, especially towards 
opponents.' This reference to non-violence had no connection 
with the war or with the defence of the country against aggres- 
sion; it was meant to apply to any action that might be taken 
in the cause of Indian freedom against British rule. 

Those were the months when the war in Europe was in a 
quiescent state after the crushing of Poland. It was the so-called 
'phoney' period, and in India especially war seemed very far off 
to the average person, and probably even more so to the British 
authorities in India, except in so far as material had to be 
supplied. The Communist Party in India then, and right upto 
the day when Germany attacked Russia in June, 1941, was wholly 
against any co-operation with the British war effort. Their 
organization had been banned. Their influence was inconsiderable, 
except among some groups of young men. But because they gave 
aggressive expression to a prevailing sentiment, they became a 
kind of ginger group. 

It would have been easy during this period to have general 
elections both in the provinces and for the Central Assembly. 
The war certainly did not come in the way. Such elections 
would have cleared the atmosphere and brought the real situa- 
tion in the country to the surface. But it was that reality itself 

•434 



which was feared by the British authorities, for it would have 
put an end to the many unreal arguments that they were con- 
tinually advancing about the influence of various groups. But 
all elections were avoided. The provinces continued under one- 
man rule, and the Central Assembly, elected under a very res- 
tricted franchise for a three-year period, has now been in exis- 
tence for ten years. Even when the war started in 1939 it was 
ancient and had exceeded its allotted span by two years. Year 
after year its life is extended, its members grow older and more 
venerable, and sometimes die, and even the memory of elections 
fades away. Elections are not liked by the British Government. 
They spoil the routine of life and blur the picture of an India 
of warring creeds and parties. Without elections it is much easier 
to give importance to any individual or group that is deserving 
of favour. 

The situation in the country as a whole, and especially in the 
many provinces where one-man rule now flourished, became pro- 
gressively more tense. Individual Congressmen were sent to 
prison for their normal activities; the peasantry cried loudly for 
relief from the renewed oppression of petty officials and police, 
who sought favour from their superiors by making all manner 
of exactions in the name of the war. The demand for some action 
to meet this situation became imperative, and the Congress, at 
its annual session held at Ramgarh, in Bihar, in March, 1940, 
under the presidentship of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, decided 
that civil disobedience was the only course left. Even so it avoid- 
ed taking any positive step then and asked people to prepare 
for it. 

There was a sense of deepening internal crisis and it seemed 
that a conflict was inevitable. The Defence of India Act, passed 
as a war measure, was being used extensively to suppress normal 
activities and arrest and imprison people, many without trial. 

The sudden change in the war situation, resulting in the inva- 
sion of Denmark and Norway, and a little later in the astonish- 
ing collapse of France, produced a profound impression. People's 
reactions naturally varied, but there was a powerful current of 
sympathy for France and for England immediately after Dunkirk 
and during the air blitz over England. Congress, which had been 
on the verge of civil disobedience, could not think in terms of 
any such movement while the very existence of free England 
hung in the balance. There were some people, of course, who 
thought that England's difficulty and peril were India's oppor- 
tunity, but the leaders of the Congress were definitely opposed 
to any such advantage being taken of a situation full of disas- 
trous foreboding for England, and declared so publicly. All talk 
of civil disobedience was given up for the time being. 

Another attempt was made on behalf of the Congress to arrive 

•435 



at a settlement with the British Government. If the previous 
attempt had been far-reaching and asked for a declaration of 
war-aims in addition to changes in India, the present one was 
brief and concise and referred to India only. It asked for a re- 
cognition of Indian freedom and the establishment of a national 
government at the centre, which meant the co-operation ofvarious 
parties. No fresh legislation by the British Parliament was envisaged 
at that stage. Within the legal framework then existing, Congress 
proposed that a national government be formed by the Viceroy. 
The changes proposed, important as they were, could be brought 
about by agreement and convention. Statutory and constitutional 
changes would of course have to follow, but they could await 
further discussion and a more favourable opportunity, provided 
that India's claim to complete freedom was recognized. Under 
these conditions, full co-operation in the war effort was offered. 

These proposals, intiated by C. Rajagopalachari, toned down 
the oft-repeated Congress demand; they were much less than 
what we had long been claiming. They could be put into effect 
immediately without legal difficulty. They tried to meet the 
claims of other important groups and parties, for the national 
government would inevitably be a composite government. They 
even took into consideration the peculiar position of the British 
Government in India. The Viceroy was to continue, though it 
was presumed that he would not veto the decisions of the na- 
tional government. But his presence as the head of the adminis- 
tration necessarily meant intimate contacts with that government. 
The war apparatus remained under the commander-in-chief; the 
whole complicated structure ,/ civil administration built up by 
the British remained. Indeed the principal effect of the change 
would be to introduce a new spirit in the administration, a new 
outlook, a vigour, and increasing popular co-operation in the 
war effort as well as in tackling the serious problems that were 
facing the country. These changes, together with the definite 
assurance of India's independence after the war, would produce 
a new psychological background in India, leading to th?* fullest 
co-operation in the war. 

It was no easy matter for the Congress to put forward this 
proposal after all its past declarations arul experiences. It was 
felt that a national government built up and circumscribed in 
this way would be ineffective and rather helpless. There was 
considerable opposition in Congress circles, and it was only after 
much difficult and anxious thinking that I brought myself round 
to agree to it. I agreed chiefly because of larger international 
considerations and my desire that, if it was at all honourably 
possible, we should identify ourselves completely with the struggle 
against fascism and nazism. 

But there was a much greater difficulty before us and that was 

•436 



Gandhiji's opposition. This opposition was almost entirely due 
to his pacifism. He had not opposed our previous offers to help 
in the war effort, though no doubt he must have felt uncomfort- 
able about them. Right at the beginning of the war he had told 
the Viceroy that Congress could give full moral help only, but 
that had not been the Congress position as subsequently and 
repeatedly defined. Now he expressed himself definitely against 
Congress agreeing to undertake responsibility for a violent war 
effort. He felt so strongly that he broke on this issue from his 
colleagues as well as the Congress organization. This was a pain- 
ful wrench to all those associated with him, for the Congress of 
to-day was his creation. Nevertheless the Congress organization 
could not accept his application of the principle of non-violence 
to the war situation, and in its eagerness to bring about a settle- 
ment with the British Government, it went to the extreme length 
of breaking with its cherished and well-loved leader. 

The situation in the country was deteriorating in many ways. 
Politically this was obvious. Even economically, while some 
among the peasantry and the workers were somewhat better 
off owing to war conditions, large numbers had been hit hard. 
The persons who were really prospering were the war profiteers, 
contractors, and a horde of officials, chiefly British, employed 
at fancy salaries for war work. The Government's idea appa- 
rently was that the war effort would be best promoted by en- 
couraging the motive for excessive profit. Corruption and nepo- 
tism were rampant and there were no popular checks on them. 
Public criticism was considered a discouragement of war effort 
and hence to be put down by the all-embracing provisions of 
the Defence of India Act. It was a discouraging spectacle. 

All these factors induced us to try our utmost once again to 
arrive at a settlement with the British Government. What were 
the chances? Not very promising. The whole Organization of 
the permanent services was enjoying a freedom from control and 
criticism such as they had not had for more than two genera- 
tions. They could clap in prison any person they disapproved 
of, with or without trial. The Governors enjoyed unrestrained 
power and authority over vast provinces. Why should they con- 
sent to a change unless they were forced to do so by circum- 
stances ? Over the top of the imperial structure sat the Viceroy, 
Lord Linlithgow, surrounded by all the pomp and ceremony 
befitting his high position. Heavy of body and slow of mind, 
solid as a rock and with almost a rock's lack of awareness, possessing 
the qualities and failings of an old-fashioned British aristocrat, he 
sought with integrity and honesty of purpose to find a way out 
ofthe tangle. But his limitations were too many; his mind worked 
in the old groove and shrank back from any innovations; his vision 
was limited by the traditions of the ruling class out of which he 

•437 



came; he saw and heard through the eyes and ears of the civil service 
and others who surrounded him; he distrusted people who talked 
of fundamental political and social changes; he disliked those who 
did not show a becoming appreciation of the high mission of the 
British Empire and its chief representative in India. 

In England there had been a change during the dark days of 
the German blitzkreig over western Europe. Mr. Neville Cham- 
berlain had gone and that was a relief from many points of view. 
The Marquess of Zetland, that ornament of his noble order, had 
also departed from the India Office without any tears being shed. 
In his place had come Mr. Amery, about whom little was known, 
but this little was significant. He had vigorously defended in the 
House of Commons Japanese aggression over China, giving as an 
argument that if they condemned what Japan had done in China, 
they would have to condemn equally what Britain had done in 
India and Egypt. A sound argument used perversely for a wrong 
purpose. 

But the person who really counted was Mr. Winston Churchill, 
the new Prime Minister. Mr. Churchill's views on Indian free- 
dom were clear and definite and had been frequently repeated. 
He stood out as an uncompromising opponent of that freedom. 
In January, 1930, he had said: 'Sooner or later you will have 
to crush Gandhi and the Indian Congress and all they stand 
for.' In December of that year he said: 'The British nation has 
no intention whatever of relinquishing control of Indian life 

and progress We have no intention of casting away that most 

truly bright and precious jewel in the crown of the King, which, 
more than all our dominions and dependencies, constitutes the 
glory and strength of the British empire.' 

Later he explained what those magic words 'Dominion status,' 
so frequently thrown at us, really meant in relation to India. 
In January, 1931, he said: 'We have always contemplated it 
(dominion status) as the ultimate goal, but no one has sup- 
posed, except in a purely ceremonious sense in the way in which 
representatives of India attend conferences during the war, that 
the principle and policy for India would be carried into effect 
in any time which it is reasonable or useful for us to foresee.' 
And, again, in December, 1931: 'Most of the leading public 
men — of whom I was one in those days — made speeches — I 
certainly did — about dominion status, but I did not contemplate 
India having the same constitutional rights and system as Canada 
in any period which we can foresee. .. .England, apart from her 
empire in India, ceases for ever to exist as a great power.' 

That was the crux of the question. India was the empire; 
it was her possession and exploitation that gave glory and strength 
to England and made her a great power. Mr. Churchill could 
not conceive of England except as the head and possessor of a vast 

•438 



empire, and so he could not conceive of India being free. And 
dominion status, which had so long been held out to us as some- 
thing within our grasp, was explained to be a mere matter of words 
and ceremony, very far removed from freedom and power. 
Dominion status, even in its fullest sense, had been rejected by us 
and we claimed independence. The gulf between Mr. Churchill 
and us was vast indeed. 

We remembered his words and knew him to be a stout and 
uncompromising person. We could hope for little from England 
under his leadership. For all his courage and great qualities of 
leadership, he represented the nineteenth century, conservative, 
imperialist England, and seemed to be incapable of understand- 
ing the new world with its complex problems and forces, and 
much less the future which was taking shape. And yet he was 
a big man who could take a big step. His offer of a union with 
France, though made at a time of dire peril, showed vision and 
adaptation to circumstances and had impressed India greatly. 
Perhaps the new position he occupied, with its vast responsibi- 
lities, had enlarged his vision and made him outgrow his earlier 
prejudices and conceptions. Perhaps the very needs of the war 
situation, which were paramount for him, would compel him 
to realize that India's freedom was not only inevitable but desirable 
from the point of view of the war. I remembered that when I was 
going to China in August, 1939, he had sent me, through a mutual 
friend, his good wishes for my visit to that war-racked country. 

So we made that offer not without hope, though not hoping 
too much. The response of the British Government came soon 
after. It was a total rejection, and, what was more, it was couched 
in terms which convinced us that the British had no intention 
whatever of parting with power in India; they were bent on 
encouraging division and strengthening every mediaeval and 
reactionary element. They seemed to prefer civil war and the 
ruin of India to a relaxation of their imperialist control. 

Used though we were to this kind of treatment, it came as a 
shock and a feeling of depression grew. I remember writing an 
article just then to which I gave the title: 'The Parting of the 
Ways.' I had long stood for the independence of India, con- 
vinced that in no other way could we progress and develop as 
a people, or have normal friendly and co-operative relations 
with England. Yet I had looked forward to those friendly rela- 
tions. Now suddenly I felt that unless England changed com- 
pletely there was no common path for us. We must follow diffe- 
rent ways. 

Individual Civil Disobedience 

So instead of the intoxication of the thought of freedom which 

•439 



would unleash our energies and throw us with a nation's enthu- 
siasm into the world struggle, we experienced the aching frustration 
of its denial. And this denial was accompanied by an arrogance 
of language, a self-glorification of British rule and policy, and an 
enumeration of conditions which were said to be necessary before 
India could claim freedom, conditions some of which seemed 
impossible of realization. It became obvious that all this talk 
and ritual of parliamentary debate in England, of rounded phrases 
and pompous utterance, was just political trickery, barely veiling 
the fixed intention to hold on to India as an imperial domain and 
possession for as long as this was possible. The claws ofimperialism 
would continue deep in the living body of India. And that was 
the measure of that international order of freedom and democracy 
for which Britain claimed to be fighting. 

There was yet another significant indication: Burma had put 
forward a modest claim that an assurance of dominion status after 
the war be given her. This was long before the Pacific War started, 
and in any event it did not interfere with the war in any way, for 
it was only intended to take effect after the conclusion of hostilities. 
She asked for dominion status only, not independence. As in the 
case of India, she had been told repeatedly that dominion status 
was the goal of British policy. Unlike India, she was a much more 
homogeneous country and all the objections, real or fancied, which 
were advanced by the British in the case of India, did not apply 
to her. Yet that unanimous demand was refused and no assurance 
was given. Dominion status was for some distant hereafter; it was 
a vague and shadowy metaphysical conception which applied to 
some other world, some different age from ours. It was, as Mr. 
Winston Churchill had indicated, empty verbiage and ceremony 
with no relation to the present or to the immediate future. So also 
the objections that were raised against India's independence, the 
absurd conditions that were laid down, were empty verbiage 
which everyone knew had no reality or substance. The only 
realities were Britain's determination to hold on to India at all 
costs and India's determination to break this hold. All else was 
quibbling, lawyer's talk, or diplomatic prevarication. Only the 
future could show the result of this conflict between incom- 
patibles. 

The future showed us soon enough the results of British policy 
in Burma. In India also that future slowly unrolled itself, bring- 
ing struggle and bitterness and suffering in its train. 

To remain passive spectators of what was happening in India 
after the last insolent repulse from the British Government became 
impossible. Ifthis was the attitude of that Government in the middle 
ofa perilous war, when millions ofpeople all over the world believed 
and faced enormous sacrifices in the cause of freedom, what would 
it be when the crisis was over and that popular pressure had sub- 

•440 



sided? Meanwhile, our people were being picked off all over India 
and sent to prison; our normal activities were interfered with and 
restricted. For it must be remembered that the British Government 
in India is always carrying on a war against the nationalist and 
labour movements; it does not wait for civil disobedience to take 
action. That war flares up occasionally and becomes an attack 
on all fronts, or it tones down a little, but always it has continued.* 
During the brief period of Congress governments in the provinces, 
it was in a quiescent stage, but soon after their resignation it started 
afresh, and the permanent services took peculiar pleasure in 
issuing orders to and imprisoning prominent Congressmen and 
members of the legislatures. 

Positive action became inevitable, for sometimes the only failure 
is in failing to act. That action could only be, in accordance with 
our established policy, in the nature of civil disobedience. Yet 
care was taken not to have any popular upheavals, and civil dis- 
obedience was limited to chosen individuals. It was what is called 
individual civil disobedience as contrasted with the mass variety 
of it. It was really in the nature of a great moral protest. From a 
politician's point of view it seems odd that we should deliberately 
avoid any attempt to upset the administration and make it easy 
for it to put the trouble-makers in prison. That has not been the 
way of aggressive political action or revolution anywhere else. 
Yet that was Gandhi's way of combining morality with revolutionary 
politics, and he was always the inevitable leader when any such 
movement took place. It was his way of showing that while we 
refused to submit to British policy and showed our resentment and 
determination by voluntarily inviting suffering for ourselves, 
yet our object was not to create trouble. 

This individual civil disobedience movement started in a very 
small way, each person having to pass some kind of a test and get 
permission before he or she could take part in it. Those who were 
chosen broke some formal order, were arrested, and sentenced to 
imprisonment. As is usual with us, men at the top were chosen 
first — members of the Congress Executive, ex-ministers of provincial 
governments, members of the legislatures, members of the All- 
India and Provincial Congress committees. Gradually the circle 
grew till between twenty-five to thirty thousand men and women 
were in prison. These included the speakers and a large number 
of members of our provincial legislative assemblies, which had been 

*Many people have beenin prison continuously from the pre-war period. Some youngcomrades 
of mine have now spent fifteen years in prison and are still there. They were boys when they 
were sentenced, barely out of their teens; now they are grey-haired and middle-aged. I have 
come across them during my repeated visits to the United Provinces prisons. I have come, 
stayed for a while, and then gone out; they have remained. Although they are United Provinces 
men and have been kept for some years in United Provinces prisons, they were sentenced in the 
Punjab and arctherefore underthe orders of the Punjab government. The Congress government 
in the Unitid Provinces recommended their release but the Punjab government did not agree. 

•441 



suspended by the Government. Thus we demonstrated that if our 
elected assemblies were not allowed to function their members 
would not submit to autocratic rule and preferred prison to it. 

Apart from those who offered formal civil disobedience, many 
thousands were arrested and sentenced for making speeches or for 
some other activity, or detained without trial. I was arrested at an 
early stage and sentenced to four years' imprisonment for a speech. 

From October, 1940, for over a year, all these persons remained 
in prison. We tried to follow, with such material as we could obtain, 
the course of the war and of events in India and the world. We 
read of the Four Freedoms of President Roosevelt, we heard of 
the Atlantic Charter, and, soon after, of Mr. Churchill's quali- 
fication that this Charter A had no application to India. 

In June, 1941, we were stirred by Hitler's sudden attack on Soviet 
Russia, and followed with anxious interest the dramatic changes 
in the war situation. 

On December 4th, 1941, many of us were discharged. Three 
days later came Pearl Harbour and the Pacific War. 

After Pearl Harbour. Gandhi and Non-Violence 

When we came out of prison the nationalist position, the question 
of India versus England, had in no way changed. Prison affects 
people in various ways; some break down or weaken, others grow 
harder and more confirmed in their convictions, and it is usually 
the latter whose influence is felt more by the mass of the people. 
But though nationally we remained where we were, Pearl Harbour 
and what followed it suddenly created a new tension and gave a 
new perspective. The Congress Working Committee met imme- 
diately after in this new atmosphere of tension. The Japanese had 
made no great advance till then, but major and stunning disasters 
had already taken place. The war ceased to be a distant spectacle 
and began to approach India and affect her intimately. Among 
Congressmen the desire to play an effective part in these perilous 
developments became strong, and the jail-going business seemed 
pointless in this new situation; but what could we do unless some 
door was open for honourable co-operation, and the people could 
be made to feel some positive inspiration for action ? A negative 
fear of threatening danger was not enough. 

In spite of past history and all that had happened, we were 
eager to offer our co-operation in the war and especially for the 
defence of India, subject necessarily to a national government 
which would enable us to function in co-operation with other 
elements in the country, and to make the people feel that it was 
really a national effort and not one imposed by outsiders who had 
enslaved us. There was no difference of opinion on this general 
approach among Congressmen and most others, but a vital dif- 

•442 



ference of principle arose rather unexpectedly. Gandhiji found 
himself unable to give up his fundamental principle of non- 
violence even in regard to external war. The very nearness of that 
war became a challenge to him and a test of faith. If he failed at 
this critical moment, either non-violence was not the all-embracing 
and basic principle and course of action he had believed it to be, 
or else he was wrong in discarding it or compromising with it. 
He could not give up the faith of a lifetime on which he had based 
all his activities, and he felt that he must accept the necessary 
consequences and implications of that non-violence. 

A similar difficulty and conflict had arisen for the first time 
about the time of the Munich crisis in 1938, when war seemed to 
be impending. I was in Europe then and was not present at the 
discussions that took place. But the difficulty passed with the passing 
of the crisis and the postponement of war. When war actually 
started in September, 1939, no such question arose or was discussed 
by us. It was only in A he late summer of 1940 that Gandhiji again 
made it clear co us that he could not make himself a party to 
violent warfare and he would like the Congress to adopt the same 
attitude in regard to it. He was agreeable to giving moral and every 
other kind of help, short of actual assistance in armed and violent 
warfare. He wanted Congress to declare its adherence to the princi- 
ple of non-violence even for a free India. He knew, of course, 
that there were many elements in the country, and even within the 
Congress, which did not have that faith in non-violence; he 
realized that a government of free India was likely to discard non- 
violence when questions of defence were concerned and to build 
up military, naval, and air power. But he wanted, if possible, for 
Congress at least to hold the banner of non-violence aloft and thus 
to train the minds of the people and make them think increasingly 
in terms of peaceful action. He had a horror of seeing India mili- 
tarized. He dreamt of India becoming a symbol and example of 
non-violence, and by her example weaning the rest of the world 
from war and the ways of violence. Even if India as a whole had 
not accepted this idea, Congress should not discard it when the 
time for trial came. 

The Congress had long ago accepted the principle and practice 
of non-violence in its application to our struggle for freedom and 
in building up unity in the nation. At no time had it gone beyond 
that position or applied the principle to defence from external 
aggression or internal disorder. Indeed it had taken an eager interest 
in the development of the Indian army and frequently demanded 
the indianization of its officer personnel. The Congress party in 
the Central Legislature ha,d often moved or participated in resolu- 
tions on this subject. As the leader of that party in the 'twenties, 
my father had accepted membership of the Skeen Committee which 
had been formed for the indianization and reorganization of the 

•443 



Indian army. He resigned subsequently from it, but that was for 
political reasons and had nothing to do with non-violence. In 
1937-38 the Congress party had put forward in the Central Assembly, 
after consulting all the provincial governments, proposals for the 
expansion of the Indian army, its mechanization, the development 
of the absurdly small and almost non-existent naval and air arms, 
and the progressive replacement of the British army in India by 
the Indian army. As the cost of British troops in India was about 
four times that of the Indian troops, the latter could be mechanized 
and expanded without much additional cost, if they took ihe place 
of British troops. Again during the Munich period the importance 
of developing the air arm was emphasized, but Government said 
that expert opinion was not agreed about this. In 1940 the Cong- 
ress Party especially attended the Central Assembly and repeated 
all this and pointed out how incompetent the Government and its 
military department were in making arrangements for India's 
defence. 

At no time, so far as I am aware, was the question of non- 
violence considered in relation to the army, navy, or air forces, 
or the police. It was taken for granted that its application was 
confined to our struggle for freedom. It is true that it had a power- 
ful effect on our thinking in many ways, and it made the Congress 
strongly favour world disarmament and a peaceful solution of 
all international, as well as national, disputes. 

When the Congress governments were functioning in the pro- 
vinces, many of them were eager to encourage some form ofmilitary 
training in the universities and colleges. It was the Government 
of India that disapproved of this and came in the way. 

Gandhiji, no doubt, disapproved of these tendencies, but he 
did not interfere. He did not even like the use of the police as an 
armed force for the suppression of riots, and he expressed his distress 
at it. But he put up with it as a lesser evil, and hoped that his teach- 
ing would gradually sink into the mind of India. It was his dis- 
approval of such tendencies within the Congress that led him to 
sever his formal membership connection with the Congress in the 
early 'thirties, though even so he continued as the undoubted 
leader and adviser of the Congress. It was an anomalous and un- 
satisfactory position for all of us, but perhaps it made him feel that 
thus he was not personally responsible for all the varied decisions 
which Congress took from time to time, which did not wholly 
conform to his principles and convictions. Always there has been 
that inner conflict within him and in our national politics, between 
Gandhi as a national leader and Gandhi as a man with a prophetic 
message, which was not confined to India but was for humanity 
and the world. It is never easy to reconcile a strict adherence to 
truth as one sees it, with the exigencies and expediencies of life, 
and especially of political life. Normally people do not even worry 

•444 



themselves over this problem. They keep truth apart in some corner 
oftheir minds, if they keep it at all anywhere, and accept expediency 
as the measure of action. In politics that has been the universal 
rule, not only because, unfortunately, politicians are a peculiar 
species of opportunists, but because they cannot act purely on the 
personal plane. They have to make others act, and so they have to 
consider the limitations of others and their understanding of, and 
receptivity to, truth. And because of this they have to make com- 
promises with that truth and adapt it to the prevailing circums- 
tances. That adaptation becomes inevitable, and yet there are 
always risks attending it; the tendency to ignore and abandon truth 
grows, and expediency becomes the sole criterion of action. 

Gandhi, for all his rock-like adherence to certain principles, has 
shown a great capacity to adapt himself to others and to changing 
circumstances, to take into consideration the strength and weakness 
of those others, especially of the mass of the people, and how far 
they were capable of acting up to the truth as he saw it. But from 
time to time he pulls himself up, as if he were afraid that he had 
gone too far in his compromising, and returns to his moorings. 
In the midst of action, he seems to be in tune with the mass mind, 
responsive to its capacity and therefore adapting himself to it to 
some extent; at other times he becomes more theoretical and 
apparently less adaptable. There is also the same difference observ- 
able in his action and his writings. This is confusing to his own 
people, and more so to others who are ignorant of the background 
in India. 

How far a single individual can influence a people's thought and 
ideology, it is difficult to say. Some people in history have exerted 
a powerful influence, and yet, it may be that they have emphasized 
and brought out something that already existed in the mind of 
the people, or have given clear and pointed expression to the 
vaguely felt ideas of the age. Gandhi's influence on India's mind 
has been profound in the present age; how long and in what form 
it will endure only the future can show. His influence is not 
limited to those who agree with him or accept him as a national 
leader; it extends to those also who disagree with him and criticize 
him. Very few persons in India accept in its entirety his doctrine 
of non-violence or his economic theories, yet very many have been 
influenced by them in some way or other. Usually speaking in terms 
of religion, he has emphasized the moral approach to political 
problems as well as those of everyday life. The religious background 
has affected those chiefly who were inclined that way, but the 
moral approach has influenced others also. Many have been appre- 
ciably raised to higher levels of moral and ethical action, many 
more have been forced to think at least in those terms, and that 
thought itself has some effect on action and behaviour. Politics 
cease to be just expediency and opportunism, as they usually have 

•445 



been everywhere, and there is a continuous moral tussle preceding 
thought and action. Expediency, or what appears to be immedi- 
ately possible and desirable, can never be ignored, but it is toned 
down by other considerations and a longer view of more distant 
consequences. 

Gandhi's influence in these various directions has pervaded 
India and left its mark. But it is not because of his non-violence 
or economic theories that he has become the foremost and most 
outstanding of India's leaders. To the vast majority of India's 
people he is the symbol of India determined to be free, of militant 
nationalism, of a refusal to submit to arrogant might, 
ofnever agreeing to anything involving national dishonour. Though 
many people in India may disagree with him on a hundred 
matters, though they may criticize him or even part company from 
him on some particular issue, at a time of action and struggle when 
India's freedom is at stake they flock to him again and look up to 
him as their inevitable leader. 

When Gandhiji raised in 1940 the question of non-violence in 
relation to the war and the future of free India, the Congress Work- 
ing Committee had to face the issue squarely. They made it clear 
to him that they were unable to go as far as he wanted them to go 
and could not possibly commit India or the Congress to future 
applications of this principle in the external domain. This led to 
a definite and public break with him on this issue. Two months 
later further discussions led to an agreed formula which was later 
adopted as part of a resolution by the All-India Congress Com- 
mittee. That formula did not wholly represent Gandhiji's attitude; 
it represented what he agreed, perhaps unwillingly, that Congress 
should say on this subject. At that time the British Government 
had already rejected the latest offer made by the Congress for co- 
operation in the war on the basis of a national government. Some 
kind of conflict was approaching and, as was inevitable, both 
Gandhiji and Congress looked towards each other and were impelled 
by a desire to find a way out of the deadlock between them. The 
formula did not refer to the war, as just previously our offer of 
co-operation had been unceremoniously and utterly rejected. 
It dealt theoretically with the Congress policy in regard to non- 
violence, and for the first time stated how, in the opinion of the 
Congress, the free India of the future should apply it in its external 
relations. That part of the resolution ran thus: 

The All-India Congress Committee 'firmly believes in the policy 
and practice of non-violence, not only in the struggle for Swaraj, 
but also, in so far as this may be possible of application, in free 
India. The Committee is convinced, and recent world events have 
demonstrated, that complete world disarmament is necessary an ' 
the establishment of a new andjuster political and economic order, 
if the world is not to destroy itself and revert to barbarism. A free 

•446 



India will, therefore, throw all her weight in favour of world dis- 
armament and should herself be prepared to give a lead in this to 
the world. Such lead will inevitably depend on external factors 
and internal conditions, but the state would do its utmost to give 
effect to this policy of disarmament. Effective disarmament and 
the establishment of world peace by the ending of national wars 
depend ultimately on the removal of the causes of wars and national 
conflicts. These causes must be rooted out by the ending of the 
domination of one country over another and the exploitation of 
one people or group by another. To that end India will peacefully 
labour and it is with this objective in view that the people of India 
desire to attain the status of a free and independent nation. Such 
freedom will be the prelude to the close association with other 
countries within a comity of free nations for the peace and progress 
of the world.' This declaration, it will be noticed, while strongly 
affirming the Congress wish for peaceful action and disarmament, 
also emphasized a number of qualifications and limitations. 

The internal crisis within the Congress was resolved in 1940 
and then came a year of prison for large numbers of us. In Decem- 
ber, 1941, however, the same crisis took shape again when Gandhiji 
insisted on complete non-violence. Again there was a split and 
public disagreement, and the president of the Congress, Maulana 
Abul Kalam Azad, and others were unable to accept Gandhiji's 
viewpoint. It became clear that the Congress as a whole, including 
some of the faithful followers of Gandhiji, disagreed with him in 
this matter. The force of circumstances and the rapid succession 
of dramatic events influenced all of us, including Gandhiji, and he 
refrained from pressing his viewpoint on the Congress, though he 
did not identify himself with the Congress view. 

At no other time was this issue raised by Gandhiji in the Congress. 
When later Sir Stafford Cripps came with his proposals, there was 
no question of non-violence. His proposals were considered purely 
from the political point of view. In late months, leading up to 
August, 1942, Gandhiji's nationalism and intense desire for free- 
dom made him even agree to Congress participation in the war if 
India could function as a free country. For him this was a remark- 
able and astonishing change, .involving suffering of the mind and 
pain of the spirit. In the conflict between that principle of non- 
violence, which had become his very life-blood and meaning of 
existence, and India's freedom, which was a dominating and consum- 
ing passion for him, the scales inclined towards the latter. That 
did not mean, of course, that he weakened in his faith in non- 
violence. But it did mean that he was prepared to agree to the 
Congress not applying it in this war. The practical statesman took 
precedence over the uncompromising prophet. 

As I have watched and thought over this frequent struggle in 
Gandhi's mind, which has led often to so many seeming contradic- 

•447 



tions — and which affected me and my activities so intimately — I 
have remembered a passage in one of Liddell Hart's books: 'The 
idea of the indirect approach is closely related to all problems of 
the influence of mind over mind — the most inrluencial factor in 
human history. Yet it is hard to reconcile with another lesson: 
that true conclusions can only be reached, or approached, by 
pursuing the truth without regard to where it may lead or what 
its effect may be — on different interests. 

'History bears witness to the vital part that the "prophets" 
have played in human progress — which is evidence of the ultimate 
practical value of expressing unreservedly the truth as one sees it. 
Yet it also becomes clear that the acceptances and spreading of 
that vision has always depended on another class of men — 
"leaders" who had to be philosophical strategists, striking a compro- 
mise between truth and men's receptivity to it. Their effect has 
often depended on their own limitations in perceiving the truth 
as on their practical wisdom in proclaiming it. 

'The prophets must be stoned; that is their lot, and the test of 
their self-fulfilment. But a leader who is stoned may merely prove 
that he has failed in his function through a deficiency of wisdom, 
or through confusing his function with that of a prophet. Time 
alone can tell whether the effect of such a sacrifice redeems the 
apparent failure as a leader that does honour to him as a man. 
At the least he avoids the more common fault of leaders — that 
of sacrificing the truth to expediency without ultimate advantage 
to the cause. For whoever habitually suppresses the truth in the 
interests of tact will produce a deformity from the womb of his 
thought. 

'Is there a practical way of combining progress towards the 
attainment of truth with progress towards its acceptance? A 
possible solution of the problem is suggested by reflection on 
strategic principles — which point to the importance of maintain- 
ing an object consistently and, also, of pursuing it in a way adapted 
to circumstances. Opposition to the truth is inevitable, especially 
if it takes the form of a new idea, but the degree of resistance can 
be diminished — by giving thought not only to the aim but to the 
method of approach. Avoid a frontal attack on a long established 
position; instead seek to turn it by a flank movement, so that a 
more penetrable side is exposed to the thrust of truth. But, in any 
such indirect approach, take care not to diverge from the truth — 
for nothing is more fatal to its real advancement than to lapse into 
untruth. 

'Looking back on the stages by which various fresh ideas 
gained acceptance, it can be seen that the process was eased 
when they could be presented, not as something radically new, 
but as the revival in modern terms of a time-honoured principle 
or practice that had been forgotten. This, required not deception 

•448 



but care to trace the connection — since "there is nothing new 

under the sun." '* 

Tension 

In India tension grew in those early months of 1942. The theatre 
of war came ever nearer and there was now the probability of air 
raids over Indian cities. What was going to happen in those eastern 
countries where war was raging? What new development would 
take place in the relations between India and England? Were 
we going to carry on in the old way, glaring at each other, tied up 
and separated by the bitter memories of past history, victims of a 
tragic fate which none could avert? Or would common perils help 
us to bridge that chasm? Even the bazaars woke up from their 
normal lethargy, a wave of excitement passed over them and they 
buzzed with all manner of rumours. The monied classes were 
afraid of the future that was advancing so swiftly towards them, 
for that future, whatever else it might be, was likely to upset the 
social structure they were accustomed to and endanger their inter- 
ests and special position. The peasant and the worker had no such 
fear for he had little to lose, and he looked forward to any change 
from his present unhappy condition. 

In India there had all along been much sympathy for China 
and, as a consequence, a certain antipathy to Japan. The Pacific 
War, it was thought at first, would bring relief to China. For four 
and a half years China had fought single-handed against Japan; 
now she had powerful allies, and surely this must lighten her 
burden and lessen her danger. But those allies suffered blow after 
blow, and before the advancing Japanese armies the British colonial 
empire cracked up with amazing rapidity. Was this proud struc- 
ture thenjust a house of cards with no foundations or inner strength? 
Inevitably, comparisons were made with China's long resistance 
to Japanese aggression in spite of her lack of almost everything 
required for modern war. China went up in people's estimation, 
and though Japan was not liked, there was a feeling of satisfaction 
at the collapse of old-established European colonial powers before 
the armed strength of an Asiatic power. That racial, Oriental- 
Asiatic, feeling was evident on the British side also. Defeat and 
disaster were bitter enough but the fact that an Oriental and 
Asiatic power had triumphed over them added to the bitterness 
and humiliation. An Englishman occupying a high position said, 
that he would have preferred it if the Prince of Wales and the Repulse 
had been sunk by the Germans instead of by the yellow Japanese. 

The visit of the Chinese leaders, Generalissimo and Madame 
Chiang Kai-shek, was a great event in India. Official conventions 
and the wishes of the Government of India prevented them from 

*Liddell Hart: 'The Strategy of Indirect Approach' (1941), Preface. 

•449 



mixing with the people, but their presence in India itself at that 
critical stage and their manifest sympathy for India's freedom 
helped to bring India out of her national shell and increased her 
awareness of the international issues at stake. The bonds that tied 
India and China grew stronger, and so did the desire to line up 
with China and other nations against the common adversary. The 
peril to India helped to bring nationalism and internationalism 
close together, the only separating factor being the policy of the 
British Government. 

The Government of India were no doubt very conscious of the 
approaching perils; there must have been anxiety in their minds 
and a sense of urgency. But such was the conventional existence of 
the British in India, so set were they in their established grooves, 
so wedded to the never-ending processes of bureaucratic red-tape, 
that no marked change was visible in their outlook or activities. 
There was no sense ofhurry and speed, of tension and getting things 
done. The system they represented had been built up for another 
age and with other objectives. Whether it was their army or their 
civil services, the objective in view was the occupation of India 
and of suppression- of any attempts of the Indian people to free 
themselves. It was sufficient enough for that purpose, but modern 
war against a powerful and ruthless adversary was a very different 
matter, and they found it exceedingly difficult to adapt themselves 
to it. They were not only mentally unfitted for this, but a great 
part of their energies was absorbed in keeping down nationalism 
in India. The collapse of the Burmese and Malayan administra- 
tions before new problems had been significant and revealing, yet 
it taught no lesson. Burma had been governed by the same kind 
of civil service as India; indeed till a few years ago, it had been 
part of the Indian administration. The ways of government there 
were identical with those of India, and Burma had demonstrated 
how moribund this system was. But the system continued without 
change and the Viceroy and his high officials functioned in the 
same way as before. They added to their number many of the 
higher officials who had failed so conspicuously in Burma; there 
was another Excellency sitting on the hili-top at Simla. Like the 
imigri governments in London, we were given the privilege of 
having in our midst emigre officials from British colonies. They 
fitted like a glove into the British structure in India. 

Like shadows on a stage these high officials continued to function 
in their old way, trying to impress us with their elaborate imperial 
ritual, their court ceremonies, their durbars and investitures, 
their parades, their dinners and evening dresses, their pompous 
utterances. The Viceroy's house in New Delhi was the chief temple 
where the high priest officiated, but there were many other temples 
and priests. All this ceremonial and display of imperial pomp 
was designed to impress, and it had impressed our people in the 

•450 



old days, for Indians are also given to ceremonial observances. 
But new standards had arisen, different values had been created, 
and now this elaborate show was the subject ofjest and ridicule. 
Indians are supposed to be a slow-moving people, disinclined to 
rush and hurry, but even they had developed a certain speed and 
vigour in their work, so strong was their desire to get things done. 
The Congress provincial governments, whatever their failings 
might have been, were anxious to achieve results and worked haru 
and continuously, disregarding many old-established routines. 
It was irritating to see the passivity and slowness of the Government 
of India and its many agents in the face of grave crisis and peril. 

And then came the Americans. They were very much in a hurry, 
eager to get things done, ignorant of the ways and ceremonial 
of the Government of India and not particularly anxious to learn 
them. Intolerant of delay, they pushed aside obstructions and red- 
tape methods and upset the even tenor of life in New Delhi. They 
were not even careful of the dress they should wear on particular 
occasions, and sometimes offended against the rigid rules of protocol 
and official procedure. While the help they were bringing was 
very welcome, they were not liked in the highest official circles, 
and relations were strained. Indians liked them on the whole; 
their energy and enthusiasm for the work in hand were infectious, 
and contrasted with the lack of these qualities in British official 
circles in India. Their forthrightness and freedom from official 
constraints were appreciated. There was much silent amusement 
at the underlying friction between the newcomers and the official 
class, and many true or imagined stories of this were repeated. 

The approach of the war to India disturbed Gandhi greatly. 
It was not easy to fit in his policy and programme of non-violence 
with this new development. Obviously civil disobedience was out 
of the question in the face of an invading army or between two 
opposing armies. Passivity or acceptance of invasion were equally 
out of the question. What then? His own colleagues, and the 
Congress generally, had rejected non-violence for such an occasion 
or as an alternative to armed resistance to invasion, and he had 
at last agreed that they had a right to do so; but he was nonetheless 
troubled and for his own part, as an individual, he could not join 
any violent course of action. But he was much more than an indi- 
vidual; whether he had any official status or not in the nationalist 
movement, he occupied an outstanding and dominating position 
and his word carried weight with large numbers of people. 

Gandhiji knew India, and especially the Indian masses, as very 
few, if any, have known them in the past or the present. Not only 
had he widely travelled all over India and come into touch with 
millions of people, but there was something else which enabled 
him to come into emotional contact with those masses. He could 
merge himself with the masses and feel with them, and because they 

•451 



were conscious of this they gave him their devotion and loyalty. 
And yet his view of India was to some extent coloured by the out- 
look he had imbibed in his early days in Gujrat. The Gujratis 
were essentially a community of peaceful traders and merchants, 
influenced by the Jain doctrine of non-violence. Other parts of 
India had been influenced much less by this, and some not at all. 
The widespread Kshatriya class of warriors certainly did not allow 
it to interfere with war or hunting wild animals. Other classes also, 
including the Brahmins, had been as a whole little influenced by 
it. But Gandhiji took an eclectic view ofthe development of Indian 
thought and history, and believed that non-violence had been the 
basic principle underlying it, even though there had been many 
deviations from it. That view appeared to be far-fetched and many 
Indian thinkers and historians did not agree with it. This had 
nothing to do with the merits of non-violence in the present stage 
ofhuman existence, but it did indicate a historical bias in Gandhiji's 
mind. 

The accidents of geography have had a powerful effect on 
determining national character and history. The fact that India 
was cut off by the tremendous barrier of the Himalayas and by 
the sea produced a sense of unity in this wide area and at the same 
time bred exclusiveness. Over this vast territory a vivid and homo- 
genous civilization grew up which had plenty of scope for expansion 
and development, and which continued to preserve a strong cultural 
unity. Yet within that unity geography again produced diversity. 
The huge northern and central plain differed from the hilly and 
variegated areas ofthe Deccan, and the people living in different 
geographical areas developed different characteristics. History 
also took a different course in the north and in the south, though 
often the two overlapped and joined hands. The flatness of the land, 
and the vast open spaces ofthe north, as in Russia, required power- 
ful central governments for protection against external enemies. 
Empires flourished in the south as well as the north, but the north 
was really the centre of empire and often dominated the south. A 
strong central government in the old days inevitably meant auto- 
cracy. It was not a mere accident of history that the Mughal 
Empire was broken up, among other causes, by the Marathas. 
The Marathas came from the hilly tracts ofthe Deccan, and had 
preserved some spirit of independence when the great majority 
of the dwellers on the northern plains had grown servile and 
submissive. The British had an easy victory in Bengal, and the 
people of the fertile plains there submitted with extraordinary 
docility. Having established themselves there they spread elsewhere. 

Geography counts still and must count in the future, but other 
factors play a more important role now. Mountains and seas are 
no longer barriers, but they still determine a people's character 
and a country's political and economic position. They cannot be 

•452 



ignored in considering new schemes of division, partition or re-merg- 
ing, unless the planning is on a world scale. 

Gandhiji's knowledge of India and the Indian people is pro- 
found. Though not greatly interested in history as such, and per- 
haps not possessing that feeling for history, that historical sense, 
which some people have, he is fully conscious and intimately aware 
of the historical roots of the Indian people. He is well informed 
about current events and follows them carefully, though inevitably 
he concentrates on present-day Indian problems. He has a capa- 
city for picking out the essence of a problem or a situation, avoid- 
ing non-essentials. Judging everything by what he considers the 
moral aspect, he gets a certain grip and a longer perspective. 
Bernard Shaw has said that though he (Gandhi) may commit 
any number of tactical errors, his essential strategy continues 
to be right. Most people, however, are not much concerned with 
the long run; they are far more interested in the tactical advantage 
of the moment. 

Sir Stafford Cripps comes to India 

With the fall of Penang and Singapore, and as the Japanese 
advanced in Malaya, there was an exodus of Indians and others 
and they poured into India. They had to leave very suddenly, 
carrying nothing with them except the clothes they were in. Then 
followed the flood of refugees from Burma, hundreds of thousands 
of them, mostly Indians. The story of how they had been deserted 
by civil and other authorities and left to shift for themselves spread 
thoughout India. They trekked hundreds of miles across moun- 
tains and through dense forests, surrounded by enemies, many 
dying on the way, killed by dagger or disease or starvation. That 
was a horrible result of the war and had to be accepted. But it was 
not the war that caused discrimination in treatment between 
Indian and British refugees. The latter were cared for as far as 
possible and arrangements made for their transport and assistance. 
From one place in Burma, where vast numbers ofrefugees were 
gathering, there were two roads leading to India. The better one 
was reserved for Britishers or Europeans; it came to be known 
as the White Road. 

Horrible stories of racial discrimination and suffering reached 
us, and as the famished survivors spread out all over India they 
carried these stories with them, creating a powerful effect on the 
Indian mind. 

Just then Sir Stafford Cripps came to India with the proposals 
of the British War Cabinet. Those proposals have been discussed 
fully during the past two and a half years and they are past history 
already. It is a little difficult for one who took part in the negotia- 
tions that followed to deal with them in any detail without saying 

•453 



much that had better to be left unsaid till some future time. As 
a matter of fact all the relevant issues and considerations that 
arose have already been made public. 

I remember that when I read those proposals for the first time 
I was profoundly depressed, and that depression was largely due 
to the fact that I had expected something more substantial from 
Sir Stafford Cripps as well as from the critical situation that had 
arisen. The more I read those proposals and considered their 
many implications, the greater was my feeling of depression. 
I could understand a person unacquainted with Indian affairs 
imagining that they went far to meet our demands. But, when 
analysed, there were so many limitations, and the very acceptance 
of the principle of self-determination was fettered and circum- 
scribed in such a way as to imperil our future. 

The proposals dealt essentially with the future, after the cessa- 
tion of hostilities, though there was a final clause which vaguely 
invited co-operation in the present. That future, while asserting 
the principle of self-determination, gave the right to provinces 
not to join the Indian union, and to form separate independent 
states. Further, the same right of non-accession to the Indian 
union was given to the Indian states, and it should be remem- 
bered that there are nearly 600 such states in India, some major 
ones and the great majority tiny enclaves. These states, as well as 
the provinces, would all join in the constitution making, would 
influence that constitution, and then could walk out of it. The 
whole background would be of separatism and the real problems 
of the country, economic or political, would take secondary place. 
Reactionary elements, differing from each other in many ways, 
would unite to frustrate the evolution of a strong, progressive, 
unified national state. Under the constant threat of withdrawal, 
many undesirable provisions might be introduced into the consti- 
tution, the central government might be weakened and emasculated, 
and yet the withdrawal might still follow, and it would be difficult 
then to refashion the constitution and make it more workable for 
the remaining provinces and states. The elections in the provinces 
for the constitution-making body would take place under the 
existing system of separate religious electorates; that was un- 
fortunate, as it would bring with it the old spirit of cleavage, 
and yet, in the circumstances, it was inevitable. But in the states 
there was no provision for elections and their ninety million 
inhabitants were completely ignored. The semi-feudal rulers of 
the states could nominate their own representatives in propor- 
tion to the population. These nominees might contain some able 
ministers but, as a whole, they would inevitably represent, not 
the people of the states, but the feudal and autocratic ruler. They 
would form nearly one quarter of the members of the constitution- 
making body, and would powerfully influence its decisions by 

•454 



their numbers, their socially backward attitude, and their threats 
of subsequent withdrawal. The constituent assembly or consti- 
tution-making body would be a curious mixture of elected and 
non-elected elements, the former chosen by separate religious 
electorates as well as by certain vested interests, the latter nomi- 
nated by the rulers of the states. To this had to be added the fact 
that there would be no pressure to accept joint decision, and the 
sense of reality which comes from evolving integrates and final 
decisions would be lacking. The tendency for many of its mem- 
bers would be to act in a wholly irresponsible manner, for they 
would feel-that they could always withdraw and refuse to accept 
the responsibility for carrying out those decisions. 

Any proposal to cut up India into parts was a painful one to 
contemplate; it went against all those deeply-felt sentiments and 
convictions that move people so powerfully. The whole national- 
ist movement of India had been based on India's unity, but the 
sentiment was older and deeper than the present phase of natio- 
nalism ; it went far back into the remote periods of Indian history. 
That belief and sentiment had been strengthened by modern 
developments till it had become an article of faith for vast num- 
bers of people, something that could not be challenged or contro- 
verted. A challenge had come from the Moslem League but few 
took it seriously, and there were certainly large numbers of Mos- 
lems who did not agree with it. Even the basis of that challenge 
was not really territorial, though it suggested a vague undefined 
partition of territory. The basis was a mediaeval conception of 
nations based on religious differences, and according to it, there- 
fore, in every village in India there were two or more nations. 
Even a partition of India could not get over these widespread 
and overlapping religious divisions. A partition would in fact add 
to the difficulty and increase the very problems it was intended 
to solve. 

Apart from sentiment, there were solid reasons against parti- 
tion. The social and economic problems of India had reached 
a crisis, chiefly because of the policy of the British Government, 
which necessitated rapid and all-round progress if the gravest 
of disasters had to be averted. That progress could only take place 
with real and effective planning for the whole of India, for the 
various parts supplied each other's deficiencies. As a whole, India 
was to a large extent a powerful and self-sufficient unit, but each 
part by itselfwould be weak and dependent on others. If all these, 
and other, arguments were valid and sufficient in the past, they 
became doubly important through modern political and economic 
developments. Small states were disappearing everywhere as 
independent entities; they were becoming absorbed in, or eco- 
nomic appendages to, the larger states. There was an inevitable 
tendency for vast federations, or collections of many states func- 



tioning together, to grow up. The idea of the national state itself 
was giving place to the multi-national state, and in the distant 
future there appeared a vision of a world federation. To think of 
partitioning India at this stage went against the whole current of 
modern historical and economic development. It seemed to be 
fantastic in the extreme. 

And yet under stress of dire necessity or some compelling 
disaster one has to agree to many undesirable things. Circum- 
stances may force a partition of what logically and normally must 
not be divided. But the proposals put forward on behalf of the 
British Government did not deal with any definite and particular 
partition of India. They opened out a vista of an indefinite num- 
ber of partitions both of provinces and states. They incited all the 
reactionary, feudal, and socially backward groups to claim parti- 
tion. Probably none of them seriously wanted it because they 
could not stand by themselves. But they could give a lot of trouble 
and obstruct and delay the formation of a free Indian state. If 
they were backed by British policy, as they well might be, it meant 
no freedom at all for a long time. Our experience of that policy 
had been bitter and at every stage we had found that it encouraged 
fissiparous tendencies. What was the guarantee that it would not 
continue to do so, and then claim that it could not fulfil its promise 
because the conditions for it were lacking? Indeed the probability 
was that this policy would continue. 

Thus this proposal was not a mere acceptance of Pakistan or 
a particular partition, bad as that would have been, but some- 
thing much worse, opening the door to the possibility of an inde- 
finite number of partitions. It was a continuing menace to the 
freedom of India and a barrier to the fulfilment of the very pro- 
mise that had been made. 

The decision about the future of the Indian states was not 
going to be made by the people of those states or their chosen 
representatives, but by their autocratic rulers. Our acceptance 
of this principle would have been a negation of our well-estab- 
lished and often repeated policy and a betrayal of the people of 
the states, who would have been condemned to autocratic rule 
for a much longer period. We were prepared to treat the princes 
as gently as possible so as to gain their co-operation in the change- 
over to democracy, and if there had been no third party, like the 
British power, we would no doubt have succeeded. But with the 
British Government supporting autocracy in the states, the princes 
were likely to keep out of the Indian Union and rely on British 
military support for protection against their own people. Indeed, 
we were told, that if such circumstances arose, foreign armed 
forces would be kept in the states. As these states were often likely 
to be isolated islands in the territory of the proposed Indian Union, 
the question arose how foreign forces could reach them or com- 

•456 



municate with the forces in some other similar state. That neces- 
sitated a right of way for foreign forces over the territory of the 
Indian Union. 

Gandhiji had repeatedly declared that he was no enemy of the 
princes. Indeed his attitude has been consistently a friendly one 
towards them, though he had often criticized their methods of 
government and their denial of even elementary rights to their 
people. For many years he had prevented the Congress from in- 
terfering directly with the affairs of the states, believing as he did 
that the people of the states should themselves take the initiative 
and thus develop self-confidence and strength. Many of us had 
disapproved of this attitude of his. Yet behind it lay one basic 
conviction, as he put it himself: 'One fundamental element in 
my attitude is that I shall never be a party to the sale of the 
rights of the people of the states (even) for the sake of the freedom 
of the people of British India.' Professor Berriedale Keith, the 
eminent authority on the British Commonwealth and Indian 
constitutions, supported Gandhiji's claim (which was the Con- 
gress claim) in regard to the states. Keith wrote: 'It is impossible 
for the Crown's advisers to contend that the people of the states 
shall be denied the rights of Indians in the provinces, and it is their 
clear duty to advise the King-Emperor to use his authority to 
secure that the princes shall enter into constitutional reforms 
which will result at no distant date in securing responsible govern- 
ment therein. No federation can be deemed in the interest of India, 
if in it representatives of the provinces are compelled to sit with 
the nominees of irresponsible rulers. There is, in fact, no answer 
to Mr. Gandhi's claim that the princes are bound to follow the 
Crown in its transfer of authority to the people.' Professor Keith 
had given this opinion in regard to the earlier proposal of the 
British Government relating to federation, but it was even more 
applicable to the proposals brought by Sir Stafford Cripps. 

The more one thought of these proposals the more fantastic 
they grew. India became a chequer-board containing scores of 
nominally independent or semi-independent states, many of them 
relying on Britain for military protection of autocratic rule. There 
was to be neither political nor economic unity and Britain might 
well continue to exercise dominating power, both politically and 
economically, through the many petty states she controlled.* 

What the British War Cabinet had in mind for the future I do 
not know. I think Sir Stafford Cripps meant well for India and 
hoped to see her free and united. But this was not a matter of 

* The entire dependence of the Indian States on British power and protection is stressed by 
Sir Geoffrey de Montmorency in his ' The Indian States and Indian Federation 1 (1942): 
The states 'are still so numerous in India that they offer a grave conundrum in evolution to 
which no solution is at present forthcoming.. .. Their disappearance and absorption would, of 
course, be inevitable if Britain ever ceased to be the supreme power as regards India.' 

•457 



individual views or opinions or personal goodwill. We had to 
consider a state document, carefully drafted in spite of its deli- 
berate vagueness, and we were told that we had to accept it or 
reject it as a whole. And behind it lay the continuous, century-old 
policy of the British Government, creating division in India and 
encouraging every factor that came in the way of national growth 
and freedom. Every forward step that had been taken in the past 
had always been hedged in by qualifications and limitations, which 
seemed innocuous enough at the beginning, and yet which proved 
to be formidable checks and brakes. 

It was possible, and even probable, that the dire consequences 
that seemed to flow from the proposals need not all take shape. 
Wisdom and patriotism, and a larger view of what was good 
for India and the world, would no doubt influence many people, 
including rulers and ministers of Indian states. Left to ourselves, 
we would have faced each other with confidence, considered all 
the complexities of the problem and the difficulties that faced each 
group, and after full deliberation hammered out an integrated 
solution. But we were not going to be left to ourselves in spite of 
the suggestion that we were going to exercise self-determination. 
The British Government was always there, occupying strategic 
points, in a position to hinder and interfere in many ways. It con- 
trolled not only the whole apparatus of government, services, etc., 
but, in the states, its residents and political agents occupied a domi- 
nating position. Indeed the princes, autocratic as they were as 
regards their people, were themselves completely subject to the 
control of the political department which was directly under the 
Viceroy. Many of their principal ministers had been imposed upon 
them and were members of British services. 

Even if we escaped many of the possible consequences of the 
British proposals, enough remained to undermine Indian free- 
dom, delay progress, and raise fresh and dangerous problems 
which would create enormous difficulties. The introduction of 
separate religious electorates a generation or more earlier had 
played enough mischief; now the door was opened to every 
obscurantist group giving trouble, and to the fear of continuing 
division and vivisection of India. We were asked to pledge our- 
selves to this arrangement for that undetermined future which was 
to emerge as the issue of the war. Not only the National Con- 
gress but politically the most moderate of our politicians, who 
had always co-operated with the British government, expressed 
their inability to do so. And yet the Congress, for all its passion for 
Indian unity, was anxious to win over the minority and other 
groups and even declared that a territorial unit could not be kept 
in the Indian Union against the declared will of its people. It 
accepted the principle even of partition, if this became unavoid- 
able, but it did not want to encourage it in any way. The Work- 

•458 



ing Committee of the Congress, in the course of its resolution on 
the Cripps proposals, said: 'The Congress has been wedded to 
Indian freedom and unity and any break in that unity, especially 
in the modern world, when people's minds inevitably think in 
terms of ever larger federations, would be injurious to all concern- 
ed and exceedingly painful to contemplate. Nevertheless the 
Committee cannot think in terms of compelling the people in any 
territorial unit to remain in an Indian Union against their dec- 
lared and established will. While recognizing this principle, the 
Committee feel that every effort should be made to create condi- 
tions which would help the different units in developing a common 
and co-operative national life. The acceptance of the principle 
inevitably involves that no changes should be made which result 
in fresh problems being created and compulsion being exercised 
on other substantial groups within that area. Each territorial unit 
should have the fullest possible autonomy within the union, con- 
sistent with a strong national state. The proposal now made on the 
part of the British War Cabinet encourages and will lead to at- 
tempts at separation at the very inception of a union and thus 
create friction just when the utmost co-operation and goodwill 
are most needed. This proposal has been presumably made to 
meet a communal demand, but it will have other consequences 
also and lead politically reactionary and obscurantist groups 
among different communities to create trouble and divert public 
attention from the vital issues before the country.' 

The Committee went on to say that 'in to-day's grave crisis, 
it is the present that counts, and even proposals for the future 
are important in so far as they affect the present. Although they 
had been unable to agree to the proposals made for the future, 
they were anxious to come to some settlement so that, as they said, 
India might shoulder the burden of her defence worthily. There 
was no question of non-violence involved and no mention of this 
was made at any stage. In fact one of the matters discussed was 
that there should be an Indian Minister of Defence. 

The Congress position at this stage was that in view of the 
imminent war peril to India they were prepared to put aside 
questions about the future and concentrate on the formation of 
a national government which would co-operate fully in the war. 
They could not agree to the British Government's specific pro- 
posals for the future as these involved all manner of dangerous 
commitments. So far as they were concerned, these proposals 
could be withdrawn or might remain as an indication of British 
intention, it being clearly understood that the Congress did not 
accept them. But this need not come in the way of finding a method 
for present co-operation. 

So far as the present was concerned, the British War Cabinet's 
proposals were vague and incomplete, except that they made 

•459 



it clear that the defence of India must remain the sole charge 
of the British Government. From Sir Stafford Cripps' repeated 
statements it appeared that except for defence all other subjects 
would be transferred to effective Indian control. There was even 
mention of the Viceroy functioning merely as a constitutional 
head, like the King of England. This led us to imagine that the 
only issue that remained for consideration was that of defence. 
Our position was that defence in war time might be made to 
cover, and to a large extent did cover, most other national acti- 
vities and functions. If defence was wholly removed from the scope 
of the national government's work, very little might remain. 
It was agreed that the British Commander-in-Chief would con- 
tinue to exercise full authority over the armed forces and military 
operations. It was also agreed that the general strategy would be 
directed by the Imperial staff. Apart from this, it was claimed 
that there should be a Defence Member of the national govern- 
ment. 

After some discussion it was agreed by Sir Stafford that there 
might be a Defence Department under an Indian member, but 
the matters to be dealt with by this department were: public rela- 
tions, petroleum, canteens, stationery and printing, social arrange- 
ments for foreign missions, amenities for troops, etc. This list 
was remarkable and made the position of an Indian Defence 
Member ludicrous. Further discussions led to a somewhat differ- 
ent approach. There still seemed to be a considerable gap bet- 
ween the two viewpoints, but we seemed to be moving towards 
one another. For the first time I felt, and so did others, that a 
settlement was probable. The deepening crisis in the war situa- 
tion was a continuous spur to all of us to come to an agreement*. 

The peril of war and invasion was great and had in any event 
to be met. Yet there were different ways of meeting it, or rather 
there was only one really effective way of doing so in the present, 
and much more so for the future. We felt that the psychological 
moment might pass, not only bringing present dangers in its train 
but also adding to the greater dangers of the future. New weapons 
were necessary as well as old, new ways of using them, new enthu- 
siasms, new horizons, a new faith in a future that was going to be 
essentially different from the past and the present, and the proof 
of it lay in a change in the present. Perhaps our eagerness fed our 
optimism and made us forget for a while or minimize the width 
and depth of the formidable chasm that separated us from 
Britain's rulers. It was not so easy for the centuries-old conflict 
to be resolved even in face of peril and disaster; it had never been 
easy for an imperial power to loosen its grip on its subject domi- 
nions unless forced to do so. Had circumstances produced that 
force, that conviction? We did not know, but we hoped it might 
be so. 

•460 



And then, just when I was most hopeful, all manner of odd 
things began to happen. Lord Halifax, speaking somewhere in 
the U.S.A., made a violent attack on the National Congress. Why 
he should do so just then in far America was not obvious, but he 
could hardly speak in that manner, when he presented the views 
and policy of the British Government. In Delhi it was well known 
that the Viceroy, Lord Linlithgow, and the high officials of the 
Civil Service were strongly opposed to a settlement and to a lessen- 
ing of their powers. Much happened which was only vaguely 
known. 

When we met Sir Stafford Cripps again to discuss the latest 
formula about the functions of the Defence Minister, it transpir- 
ed that all our previous talk was entirely beside the point, as 
there were going to be no ministers with any power. The exist- 
ing Viceroy's Executive Council was to continue, and all that was 
contemplated was to appoint additional Indians, representing 
political parties, to this Council. The Council was in no sense 
a cabinet; it was just a group of heads of departments or secre- 
taries, and all power was concentrated in the Viceroy's hands. 
We realized that legal changes take time and we had not there- 
fore pressed for them, but we insisted that a convention should 
be observed that the Viceroy was to treat this Council as a cabi- 
net and accept its decisions. We were now told that this was not 
possible and the Viceroy's powers must remain unaltered not 
only in theory but in practice. This was an astonishing develop- 
ment which we could hardly credit, for all our previous talks had 
taken place on a different basis. 

We discussed how we could increase India's powers of resist- 
ance against invasion. We were anxious to make the Indian army 
feel that it was a national army and thus to introduce a patriotic 
element in the war. Also to build up new armies, militias, home 
guards, etc., rapidly for home defence in case of invasion. All these 
would of course function under the Commander-in-Chief. We 
were told that we could not do so. The Indian army was really 
a part and section of the British army and it could not be consi- 
dered, or even referred to, as a national army. It was further 
doubtful if we could be allowed to raise any separate forces like 
militias or home guards. 

So it all came to this, that the existing structure of government 
would continue exactly as before, the autocratic powers- of the 
Viceroy would remain, and a few of us could become his liveried 
camp-followers and look after canteens and the like. There was 
not an atom of difference between this and what Mr. Amery had 
offered eighteen months earlier, which had seemed to us then an 
affront to India. It was true that there would be a psychological 
change after all that had happened, and individuals make a diffe- 
rence. Strong and capable men would function differently from 

•461 



the servile breed that usually surrounded the viceregal throne. 

But it was inconceivable and impossible for us to accept this 
position at any time and more specially at that time. If we had 
ventured to do so we would have been disowned and rejected by 
our own people. As a matter of fact, when later the facts were 
known to the public, there was an outcry against the many con- 
cessions we had agreed to in the course of the negotiations. 

In the whole course of our talks with Sir Stafford Cripps, the 
so-called minority or communal issue was at no time raised or 
considered. Indeed it did not arise at that stage. It was an impor- 
tant issue in considering future constitutional changes, but these 
had been deliberately put aside after our initial reaction to the 
British proposals. If the principle of an effective transfer of power 
to a national government had been agreed to, then the question 
would no doubt have arisen as to the relative strengths ofthe various 
groups represented in it. But as we never reached the stage of 
agreement on that principle, the other question did not arise and 
was not considered at all. So far as we were concerned, we were so 
anxious to have an effective national government enjoying the 
confidence of the principal parties, that we felt that the question 
of proportions would not give much trouble. Maulana Abul 
Kalam Azad, the Congress president, in a letter to Sir Stafford 
Cripps had said: 'We would point out to you that the suggestions 
we have put forward are not ours only but may be considered to 
be the unanimous demand ofthe Indian people. On these matters 
there is no difference of opinion among various groups and parties, 
and the difference is as between the Indian people as a whole and 
the British Government. Such differences as exist in India relate 
to constitutional changes in the future. We are agreeable to the 
postponement of this issue so that the largest possible measure 
of unity might be achieved in the present crisis for the defence 
of India. It would be a tragedy that even when theie is this 
unanimity of opinion in India, the British Government should 
prevent a free national government from functioning and from 
serving the cause of India as well as the larger causes for which 
millions are suffering and dying to-day.' 

In a subsequent and final letter of the Congress president 
it was stated: 'We are not interested in the Congress as such 
gaining power, but we are interested in the Indian people as a 

whole having freedom and power We are convinced that if 

the British Government did not pursue a policy of encouraging 
disruption, all of us, to whatever party or group we belonged, 
would be able to come together and find a common line of action. 
But, unhappily, even in this grave hour ofperil, the British Govern- 
ment is unable to give up its wrecking policy. We are driven to 
the conclusion that it attaches more importance to holding on to 
its rule in India, as long as it can, and promoting discord and 

•402 



disruption here with that end in view, than to an effective defence 
of India against the aggression and invasion that overhang us. 
To us, and to all Indians, the dominant consideration is the defence 
and safety of India, and it is by that test that we judge.' 

In this letter he also made clear our position in regard to defence. 
'No one has suggested any restrictions on the normal powers of the 
Commander-in-Chief. Indeed we went beyond this and were 
prepared to agree to further powers being given to him as war 
minister. But it is clear that the British Government's conception 
and ours in regard to defence differ greatly. For us it means giving 
it a national character and calling upon every man and woman 
in India to participate in it. It means trusting our own people 
and seeking their full co-operation in this great effort. The British 
Government's view seems to be based on an utter lack of confidence 
in the Indian people and in withholding real power from them. 
You refer to the paramount duty and responsibility of His Majesty's 
Government in regard to defence. That duty and responsibility 
cannot be discharged effectively unless the Indian people are 
made to have and feel their responsibility, and the recent past 
stands witness to this. The Government of India do not realise 
that the war can only be fought on a popular basis.' 

Almost immediately after this last letter of the Congress pre- 
sident, Sir Stafford Cripps returned to England by air. But before 
he did so, and on his return, he made certain statements to the 
public which were contrary to the facts and which were bitterly 
resented in India. In spite of contradiction by responsible persons 
in India, these statements were repeated by Sir Stafford and others. 

The British proposals had been rejected, not by the Congress 
only, but by every single party or group in India. Even the 
most moderate of our politicians had expressed their disapproval 
of them. Apart from the Moslem League, the reasons for dis- 
approval were more or less the same. The Moslem League, 
as has been its custom, waited for others to express their opinions 
and then, for its own reasons, rejected the proposals. 

It was stated in the British Parliament and elsewhere that 
the rejection by the Congress was due to the uncompromising 
attitude of Gandhiji. This is wholly untrue. Gandhiji had strongly 
disapproved, in common with most others, of the indefinite and 
innumerable partitions that the proposals involved, and of the way 
in which the ninety million people of the Indian states had been 
allowed no say in their future. All the subsequent negotiations, 
which dealt with changes in the present and not with the future, 
took place in his absence, as he had to leave because of his wife's 
illness, and he had nothing whatever to do with them. The Congress 
Working Committee had, on several previous occasions, disagreed 
with him on the question of non-violence, and was anxious to 
have a National Government to co-operate in the war and 

•463 



especially in the defence of India. 

The war was the dominant issue and thought in men's minds, 
and the invasion of India seemed imminent. And yet it was not 
the war that came in the way of agreement, for that war would 
inevitably have to be conducted by experts and not by laymen. 
On the conduct of the war itself it was easy to come to an agree- 
ment. The real question was the transfer of power to the National 
Government. It was the old issue of Indian nationalism versus 
British imperialism, and on that issue, war or no war, the British 
governing class in England and in India was determined to hold 
on to what it had. Behind them stood the imposing figure of Mr. 
Winston Churchill. 

Frustration 

The abrupt termination of the Cripps' negotiations and Sir 
Stafford's sudden departure came as a surprise. Was it to make 
this feeble offer, which turned out to be, so far as the present 
was concerned, a mere repetition of what had been repeatedly 
said before — was it for this that a member of the British War 
Cabinet had journeyed to India? Or had all this been done 
merely as a propaganda stunt for the people of the U.S.A.? 
The reaction was strong and bitter. There was no hope of a 
settlement with Britain; no chance was given to the people of 
India even to defend their country against invasion as they wanted to. 

Meanwhile the chances of that invasion were growing and 
hordes of starving Indian refugees were pouring across the eastern 
frontiers of India. In eastern Bengal, in a panicky state of mind 
in anticipation of an invasion, tens of thousands of river boats were 
destroyed. (It was subsequently stated that this had been done by 
a mistaken interpretation of an official order.) That vast area was 
full of waterways and the only transport possible was by these boats. 
Their destruction isolated large communities, destroyed their 
means of livelihood and transport, and was one of the contributory 
causes of the Bengal famine. Preparations were made for large- 
scale withdrawals from Bengal, and a repetition of what had 
happened in Rangoon and Lower Burma seemed probable. In the 
city of Madras a vague and unconfirmed (and, as it turned out, 
a false) rumour of the approach of a Japanese fleet led to the 
sudden departure of high Government officials and even to a 
partial destruction of harbour facilities. It seemed that the civi- 
lian administration of India was suffering from a nervous break- 
down. It was strong only in its suppression of Indian nationalism. 

What were we to do? We could not tolerate any part of India 
submitting tamely to invasion. So far as armed resistance was 
concerned that was a matter for the army and air force, such as 
they were. American help was pouring in, especially in the shape 

•464 



of aircraft, and was slowly changing the military situation. The 
only way we could have helped was by changing the whole 
atmosphere of the home front, by creating enthusiasm in the 
people and a fierce desire to resist at all costs, by building up 
citizen forces for this purpose and home guards and the like. That 
had been made terribly difficult for us by British policy. Even 
on the eve of invasion no Indian outside the regular army could 
be trusted with a gun, and even our attempts to organize un- 
armed self-defence units in villages were disapproved and some- 
times suppressed. Far from encouraging the organization of popular 
resistance the British authorities were afraid of this, for they had 
long been accustomed to look upon all popular self-defence orga- 
nization as seditious and dangerous to British rule. They had 
to follow their old policy, for the only alternative was to accept 
a national government relying on the people and organizing them 
for defence. This alternative had been definitely rejected by them 
and there was no middle course or half-way house. Inevitably they 
were led to treat the people as chattels, who were to be allowed no 
initiative and were to be used and disposed of entirely according 
to their own wishes. The All-India Congress Committee, which 
met at the end of April, 1942, declared its deep resentment at 
this policy and treatment, and said that it could never accept a 
position which involved our functioning as slaves of foreign autho- 
rity. 

Nevertheless, we could not remain silent and inert spectators 
of the tragedy that seemed to be imminent. We had to advise 
the people, the vast masses of the civilian population, as to what 
they should do in case of invasion. We told them that in spite of 
their indignation against British policy they must not interfere 
in any way with the operations of the British or allied armed 
forces, as this would be giving indirect aid to the enemy aggres- 
sor. Further, that they must on no account submit to the inva- 
der, or obey his orders, or accept any favours from him. If the 
invading forces sought to take possession of the people's homes 
and fields they must be resisted even unto death. This resistance 
was to be peaceful; it was to be the completest form of non-co- 
operation with the enemy. 

Many people criticized with considerable sarcasm what seemed 
to them the absurd notion of resisting an invading army with 
these methods of non-violent non-co-operation. Yet far from 
being absurd, it was the only method, and a very brave method, 
left to the people. The advice was not offered to the armed forces, 
nor was peaceful resistance put forward as an alternative to 
armed resistance. That advice was meant only for the unarmed 
civilian population, which almost invariably submits to the invader 
when its armed forces are defeated or withdrawn. Apart from 
the regular armed forces, it is possible to organize guerrilla units 

•465 



to harass the enemy. But this was not possible for us, for it requires 
training, arms, and the full co-operation of the regular army. 
And even if some guerrilla units could have been trained the rest 
of the population remained. Normally the civilian population is 
expected to submit to enemy occupation. Indeed, it was known 
that directions had been issued by British authorities in certain 
threatened areas advising submission, even by some of the petty 
officials, to the enemy when the army and the higher officials 
withdrew. 

We knew perfectly well that peaceful non-cooperation could 
not stop an advancing enemy force. We knew also that most of 
the civilian inhabitants would find it difficult to resist even if they 
wanted to do so. Nevertheless we hoped that some leading perso- 
nalities in the towns and villages occuped by the enemy would 
refuse to submit or carry out the enemy's orders or help in getting 
provisions or in any other way. That would have meant swift 
punishment for them, very probably death as well as reprisals. 
We expected this non-submission and resistance to death of even 
a limited number of persons to have a powerful effect on the 
general population, not only in the area concerned but in the 
rest of India. Thus we hoped that a national spirit of resistance 
might be built up. 

For some months previously we had been organizing, often in 
the face of official opposition, food committees and self-defence 
units in towns and villages. The food problem was troubling us 
and we feared a crisis in view of the increasing difficulties of 
transport and Other developments of the war situation. Govern- 
ment was doing next to nothing in regard to this. We tried to 
organize self-sufficient units, especially in the rural areas, and to 
encourage primitive methods of transport by bullock-cart in case 
modern methods failed. There was also the possibility of large 
numbers of refugees and evacuees suddenly marching west, as 
they had done in China, in case of invasion from the east. We 
tried to prepare ourselves to receive them and provide for them. 
All this was exceedingly difficult, indeed hardly possible, without 
the co-operation of the Government, yet we made such attempts 
as we could. The purpose of the self-defence units was to help 
in these tasks and to prevent panic and keep order in their res- 
pective areas. Air raids and the news of invasion, even in a distant 
area, 'might well cause panic in the civilian population, and it was 
important to stop this. The official measures taken in this behalf 
were totally insufficient and looked upon with distrust by the 
public. In the rural areas dacoities and robberies were on the 
increase. 

We made these vast plans and in a small measure gave effect 
to them, but it was obvious that we were only scratching the sur- 
face of the tremendous problem which confronted us. A real solu- 

•466 



tion could come only through complete co-operation between 
the governmental apparatus and the people, and that had been 
found to be impossible. 

It was a heart-breaking situation, for while the crisis called 
to us and we were bubbling over with the desire to act, effective 
action was denied us. Catastrophe and disaster advanced with 
tremendous strides towards us while India lay helpless and inert, 
bitter and sullen, a battle ground for rival and foreign forces. 

Much as I hated war, the prospect of a Japanese invasion of 
India had in no way frightened me. At the back of my mind I 
was in a sense attracted to this coming of war, horrible as it was, 
to India. For I wanted a tremendous shake-up, a personal experi- 
ence for millions of people, which would drag them out of that 
peace of the grave that Britain had imposed upon us. Something 
that would force them to face the reality of to-day and to outgrow 
the past which clung to them so tenaciously, to get beyond the 
petty political squabbles and exaggerations of temporary prob- 
lems which filled their minds. Not to break with the past, and yet 
not to live in it; realise the present and look to the future.. . .To 
change the rhythm of life and make it in tune with this present 
and future. The cost of war was heavy, and the consequences full 
of uncertainty. That war was not of our seeking, but since it had 
come, it could be made to harden the fibre of the nation and provide 
those vital experiences out of which a new life might blossom forth. 
Vast numbers would die, that was inevitable, but it is better to 
die in war than through famine; it is better to die than to live 
a miserable, hopeless life. Out of death, life is born afresh, and 
individuals and nations who do not know how to die, do not know 
also how to live. 'Only where there are graves are there resur- 
rections.' 

But though the war had come to India, it had brought no 
exhilaration of the spirit to us, no pouring out of our energies in 
some glad endeavour, when pain and death were forgotten and 
self itself ignored and only the cause of freedom counted and the 
vision of the future that lay beyond. Only the suffering and sor- 
row were for us, and an awareness of impending disaster which 
sharpened our perceptions and quickened pain, and which we 
could not even help to avert. A brooding sense of inevitable and 
ineluctable tragedy grew upon us, a tragedy that was both perso- 
nal and national. 

This had nothing to do with victory or defeat in the war, with 
who won and who lost. We did not want the Axis powecs to win, 
for that led to certain disaster; we did not want the Japanese to 
enter or occupy any part of India. That had to be resisted any- 
how, and we repeatedly impressed the public with this fact, but 
all this was a negative approach. What positive aim was there 
in this war, what future would emerge out of it? Was it just a 

•467 



repetition of past follies and disasters, a play of nature's blind 
forces which took no cognizance of man's wishes and ideals? 
What was going to be the fate of India? 

We thought of Rabindranath Tagore's last testament, his de- 
ath-bed message given the year before: '...the demon of barb- 
arity has given up all pretence and has emerged with uncon- 
cealed fangs ready to tear up humanity in an orgy of devastation. 
From one end of the world to the other the poisonous fumes 
of hatred darken the atmosphere. The spirit of violence which 
perhaps lay dormant in the psychology of the west has at last 
roused itself and desecrated the spirit of man. 

'The wheels of fate will some day compel the English to give 
up their Indian empire. But what kind of India will they leave 
behind, what stark misery? When the stream of their centuries' 
administration runs dry at last, what a waste of mud and filth 
they will leave behind! I had one time believed that the springs 
of civilization would issue out of the heart of Europe. But to-day 
when I am about to quit the world that faith has gone bankrupt 
altogether. 

'As I look round I see the crumbling ruins of a proud civiliza- 
tion strewn like a vast heap of futility. And yet I shall not commit 
the grievous sin of losing faith in man. I would rather look forward 
to the opening of a new chapter in his history after the cataclysm 
is over and the atmosphere rendered clean with the spirit of service 
and sacrifice. Perhaps that dawn will come from this horizon, 
from the east where the sun rises. A day will come when un- 
vanquished man will retrace his path of conquest, despite all bar- 
riers, to win back his lost human heritage. 

'To-day we witness the perils which attend on the insolence 
of might; one day shall be borne out the full truth of what the 
sages have proclaimed: "By unrighteousness man prospers, gains 
what appears desirable, conquers enemies, but perishes at the 
root." ' 

No, one may not lose faith in man. God we may deny, but 
what hope is there for us if we deny man and thus reduce every- 
thing to futility? Yet it was difficult to have faith in anything or 
to believe that the triumph of righteousness is inevitable. 

Weary of body and troubled in mind I sought escape from my 
surroundings and journeyed to Kulu in the inner valleys of the 
Himalayas. 

The Challenge: Quit India Resolution 

On my return from Kulu after a fortnight's absence I realized 
that the internal situation was changing rapidly. The reaction 
from the failure of the last attempt at a settlement had grown 
and there was a feeling that no hope lay in that direction. British 

•468 



official statements in Parliament and elsewhere had confirmed 
that view and angered the people. Official policy in India was 
definitely aiming at the suppression of our normal political and 
public activities and there was an all-round tightening of pressure. 
Many of our workers had remained in prison throughout the 
Cripps negotiations; now some of the nearest and most important 
of my friends and colleagues had been arrested and imprisoned 
under the Defence of India Act. Rafi Ahmad Kidwai was arrested 
early in May. Shri Krishnadat Palliwal, president of the United 
Provinces Provincial Congress committee, followed soon after, 
and so did many others. It seemed that most of us would be picked 
off in this way and removed from the scene of action, and our 
national movement prevented from functioning and gradually 
disintegrated. Could we submit to all this passively? We had 
not been trained that way, and both our personal and national 
pride rose in revolt against this treatment. 

But what could we do in view of the grave war crisis and possi- 
bility of invasion? Yet inaction was no service even to this cause, for 
it was leading to the growth of sentiments which we viewed with 
anxiety and apprehension. There were many trends in public 
opinion, as was natural in such a vast country and at such a time 
of crisis. Actual pro-Japanese sentiment was practically nil, for 
no one wanted to change masters, and pro-Chinese feelings were 
strong and widespread. But there was a small group which was 
indirectly pro-Japanese in the sense that it imagined that it could 
take advantage of a Japanese invasion for Indian freedom. They 
were influenced by the broadcasts being made by Subhas Chandra 
Bose who had secretly escaped from India the year before. Most 
people were, of course, just passive, dumbly awaiting developments. 
If unfortunately circumstances so fashioned themselves that a part 
of India was under the invader's control, then there would un- 
doubtedly be many collaborators, especially among the upper 
income groups, whose ruling passion was to save themselves and 
their property. That breed and mentality of collaborators had 
been cherished and encouraged by the British Government in 
India in the past for its own purposes, and they could adapt them- 
selves to changing circumstances, always keeping their own per- 
sonal interests in view. We had seen collaboration in full flood 
even in France and Belgium and Norway and many of the occu- 
pied countries of Europe, in spite of growing resistance movements. 
We had seen how the men of Vichy had (in Pertinax's words) 
'racked their brains to palm off shame as honour, cowardice as 
courage, pusillanimity and ignorance as wisdom, humiliation as 
virtue, and wholehearted acceptance of the German victory as 
moral regeneration.' If that had been so in France, that country of 
revolution and fiery patriotism, it was certainly not unlikely 
among similar classes in India, where the mentality of collabora- 

•469 



tion had flourished for so long under British patronage and 
brought so many rewards. Indeed it was highly likely that chief 
among those who might collaborate with the invader would be 
many of the persons who had been collaborating with British 
rule and who proclaimed their loyalty to that rule from the 
house tops. They had perfected the art of collaboration and would 
find no difficulty in holding on to that basis even though the 
superstructure changed. Arid if subsequently there was yet ano- 
ther change of that superstructure, well they would readapt them- 
selves again as others of their kind were doing in Europe. When 
necessity arose they could take advantage of the anti-British 
feelings that had grown more powerful than ever after the failure 
of the Cripps negotiations. So would others also, not for personal 
and opportunist reasons but pushed on by different motives, 
losing all perspective and forgetting the larger issues. These deve- 
lopments filled us with dismay and we felt that the growth of 
enforced and sullen submission to British policy in India would 
lead to all manner of dangerous consequences and the complete 
degradation of the people. 

There was a fairly widespread feeling that in case of attempted 
invasion and occupation of some eastern areas, there would be 
a breakdown of the civil administration over larger areas else- 
where, leading to chaotic conditions. What had happened in 
Malaya and Burma was before us. Hardly anyone expected any 
considerable part of the country to be occupied by the enemy 
even if the chances of war favoured him. India was vast, and we 
had seen in China that space counts. But space counts only when 
there is a determination to take advantage of it and resist, and 
not to collapse and submit. Apparently well-founded reports 
stated that the Allied armed forces would probably withdraw to 
inner lines of defence, leaving wide areas open to enemy occupa- 
tion, though probably the enemy, as in China, might not actually 
occupy them all. So questions arose as to how we should meet 
this situation both in these areas as well as in other areas where 
the civil administration might cease to function. We tried, as 
far as we could, to prepare mentally and otherwise for such crises 
by encouraging local organizations which could function and 
keep order, and at the same time by insisting that the invader had 
to be resisted at any cost. 

Why had the Chinese fought so stoutly for many years? Why, 
above all others, had the Russians and other peoples of the Soviet 
Union fought with such courage, tenacity, and whole-hearted- 
ness? Elsewhere people fought bravely also because they were 
moved by love of country, fear of aggression, and desire to pre- 
serve their ways of life. And yet there appeared to be a difference 
in the whole-heartedness of the war effort between Russia and 
other countries. Others had fought magnificently as at the time 

•470 



of Dunkirk and after, but there had been some moral slackening 
of effort when the immediate crisis was past; it seemed as if there 
were some doubts about the future, though the war had anyhow 
to be won. In the Soviet Union, so far as one could judge from 
the material available, there seemed to be no doubt or debate 
(though it was true that debate was not encouraged), and there 
was a supreme confidence in both the present and the future. 

In India? There was a deep-seated dislike of the present and 
the future seemed equally dark. No patriotic urge to action 
moved the people, only a desire to defend themselves against 
invasion and a worse fate. A few were moved by international 
considerations. Mixed up with all these feelings was resentment 
at being ordered about, suppressed and exploited by an alien and 
imperialist power. There was a fundamental wrongness in a 
system under which everything depended on the wishes and 
whims of an autocrat. Freedom is dear to all, but most ofall 
to those who have been deprived of it, or those who are in danger 
of losing it. Freedom in the modern world is conditioned and 
limited in many ways but those who do not possess it, do not 
realize these limitations, and idealize the conception till it be- 
comes a passionate craving and an overwhelming and consuming 
desire. If anything does not fit in with this longing or seems to go 
counter to it, that thing must inevitably suffer. The desire for 
freedom, for which so many in India had laboured and suffered, 
had not only received a check but it seemed that the prospect of 
it had receded into some dim and distant future. Instead of tack- 
ing that passion on to the world struggle that was going on, and 
drawing upon the vast reservoir of energy in the cause of Indian 
and world freedom and for India's defence, the war had been 
isolated from it, and no hope was centred in its issue. It is never 
wise to leave any people, even enemies, without hope. 

There were some of course in India who looked upon the war 
as something far bigger and vaster than the petty ambitions of 
the statesmen of the various countries involved in it; some who 
felt its revolutionary significance in their bones and realized that 
its ultimate issue and the consequences that would flow from 
it would take the world far beyond military victories and the pacts 
and utterances of politicians. But the number of these people was 
inevitably limited and the great majority, as in other countries, 
took a narrower view, which they called realistic, and were govern- 
ed by the considerations of the moment. Some, inclined to op- 
portunism, adapted themselves to British policy and fitted them- 
selves into it, as they would have collaborated with any other 
authority and policy. Some reacted strongly against this policy 
and felt that a submission to it was a betrayal not only of India's 
cause, but the world's cause. Most people became just passive, 
static, quiescent: the old failing of the Indian people against 

•471 



which we had struggled for so long. 

While this struggle was going on in India's mind and a feel- 
ing of desperation was growing, Gandhiji wrote a number of 
articles which suddenly gave a new direction to people's thoughts, 
or, as often happens, gave shape to their vague ideas. Inaction 
at that critical stage and submission to all that was happening 
had become intolerable to him. The only way to meet that situation 
was for Indian freedom to be recognized and for a free India to 
meet aggression and invasion in co-operation with the allied 
nations. If this recognition was not forthcoming then some action 
must be taken to challenge the existing system and wake up the 
people from the lethargy that was paralysing them and making 
them easy prey to every kind of aggression. 

There was nothing new in this demand, for it was a repeti- 
tion of what we had been saying all along, but there was a new 
urgency and passion in his speech and writing. And there was 
the hint of action. There was no doubt that he represented at the 
moment the prevailing sentiment in India. In a conflict between 
the two, nationalism had triumphed over internationalism, and 
Gandhiji's new writings created a stir all over India. And yet 
that nationalism was at no time opposed to internationalism and 
indeed was trying its utmost to find some opening to fit in with that 
larger aspect, if only it could be given an opportunity to do so 
honourably and effectively. There was no necessary conflict 
between the two for, unlike the aggressive nationalisms, of Europe, 
it did not seek to interfere with others but rather to co-operate 
with them to their common advantage. National freedom was 
seen as the essential basis of true internationalism and hence as 
the road to the latter, as well as the real foundation for co-operation 
in the common struggle against fascism and nazism. Meanwhile 
that internationalism, which was being so much talked about, 
was beginning to look suspiciously like the old policy of the 
imperialist powers, in a new, and yet not so new, attire; indeed it 
was itself an aggressive nationalism which, in the name of empire or 
commonwealth or mandatory, sought to impose its will on others. 

Some of us were disturbed and upset by this new develop- 
ment, for action was futile unless it was effective action, and 
any such effective action must necessarily come in the way of 
the war effort at a time when India herself stood in peril of 
invasion. Gandhiji's general approach also seemed to ignore 
important international considerations and appeared to be based 
on a narrow view of nationalism. During the three years of war 
we had deliberately followed a policy of non-embarrassment, 
and such action as we had indulged in had been in the nature 
of symbolic protest. That symbolic protest had assumed huge 
dimensions when 30,000 of our leading men and women were 
sent to prison in 1940-41. And yet even the prison-going was a 

•472 



selected individual affair and avoided any mass upheaval or any 
direct interference with the governmental apparatus. We could 
not repeat that, and if we did something else it had to be of 
a different kind and on a more effective scale. Was this not 
bound to interfere with the war on India's borders and encour- 
age the enemy? 

These were obvious difficulties and we discussed them at 
length with Gandhiji without converting each other. The diffi- 
culties were there and risks and perils seemed to follow any course 
of action or inaction. It became a question of balancing them 
and choosing the lesser evil. Our mutual discussion led to a 
clarification of much that had been vague and cloudy, and to 
Gandhiji's appreciation of many international factors to which 
his attention was drawn. His subsequent writing underwent a 
change and he himself emphasized these international considera- 
tions and looked at India's problem in a wider perspective. But 
his fundamental attitude remained: his objection to a passive 
submission to British autocratic and repressive policy in India 
and his intense desire to do something to challenge this. Sub- 
mission, according to him, meant that India would be broken in 
spirit and, whatever shape the war might take, whatever its end 
might be, her people would act in a servile way and their freedom 
would not be achieved for a long time. It would mean also 
submission to an invader and not continuing resistance to him 
regardless even of temporary military defeat or withdrawal. It 
would mean the complete demoralization ofour people and their 
losing all the strength that they had built up during a quarter of a 
century's unceasing struggle for freedom. It would mean that the 
world would forget India's demand for freedom and the post-war 
settlement would be governed by the old imperialist urges and ambi- 
tions. Passionately desirous of India's freedom as he was, India 
was to him something more than his loved homeland; it was the 
symbol of all the colonial and exploited peoples of the world, the 
acid test whereby any world policy must be judged. If India 
remained unfree then also the other colonial countries and subject 
races would continue in their present enslaved condition and the 
war would have been fought in vain. It was essential to change the 
moral basis of the war. The armies and the navies and air forces 
would function in their respective spheres and they might win 
by superior methods of violence, but to what end was their 
victory? And even armed warfare requires the support of morale; 
had not Napoleon said that in war 'the moral is to the physical 
as three to one?' The moral factor of hundreds of millions of 
subject and exploited people all over the world realizing and 
believing that this war was really for their freedom was of 
immense importance even from the narrower viewpoint of the 
war, and much more so for the peace to come. The very fact 



•473 



that a crisis had risen in the fortunes of the war necessitated a 
change in outlook and policy and the conversion of these sullen 
and doubting millions into enthusiastic supporters. If this mira- 
cle could take place all the military might of the axis powers 
would be of little avail and their collapse was assured. Many of 
the peoples of the axis countries might themselves be affected by 
this powerful world sentiment. 

In India it was better to convert the sullen passivity of the 
people into a spirit of non-submission and resistance. Though 
that non-submission would be, to begin with, to arbitrary orders 
of the British authorities, it could be turned into resistance to an 
invader. Submissiveness and servility to one would lead to the 
same attitude towards the other and thus to humiliation and 
degradation. 

We were familiar with all these arguments; we believed them 
and had ourselves used them frequently. But the tragedy was 
that the policy of the British Government prevented that miracle 
from taking place; all our attempts to solve the Indian problem, 
even temporarily, during the course of the war had failed, and 
all our requests for a declaration of war aims had been turned 
down. It was certain that a further attempt of this kind would 
also fail. What then? If it was to be conflict, however much it 
might be justified on moral or other grounds, there could be no 
doubt that it would tend to interfere greatly with the war effort 
in India at a time when the danger of invasion was considerable. 
There was no getting away from that fact. And yet, oddly 
enough, it was that very danger that had brought this crisis in 
our minds, for we could not remain idle spectators of it and see 
our country mismanaged and ruined by people whom we consi- 
dered incompetent and wholly incapable of shouldering the 
burden of a people's resistance which the occasion demanded. 
All our pent-up passion and energy sought some outlet, some 
way of action. 

Gandhiji was getting on in years, he was in the seventies, and 
a long life of ceaseless activity, of hard toil, both physical and 
mental, had enfeebled his body; but he was still vigorous enough, 
and he felt that all his life work would be in vain if he submitted 
to circumstances then and took no action to vindicate what he 
prized most. His love of freedom for India and all other exploited 
nations and peoples overcame even his strong adherence to 
non-violence. He had previously given a grudging and rather 
reluctant consent to the Congress not adhering to this policy in 
regard to defence and the state's functions in an emergency, but 
he had kept himself aloof from this. He realized that his half- 
hearted attitude in this matter might well come in the way of a 
settlement with Britain and the United Nations. So he went 
further and himself sponsored a Congress resolution which 

•474 



declared that the primary function of the provisional govern- 
ment of free India would be to throw all her great resources in 
the struggle for freedom and against aggression, and to co-operate 
fully with the United Nations in the defence of India with all the 
armed as well as other forces at her command. It was no easy 
matter for him to commit himself in this way, but he swallowed 
the bitter pill, so overpowering was his desire that some settle- 
ment should be arrived at to enable India to resist the aggressor 
as a free nation. 

Many of the theoretical and other differences that had often 
separated some of us from Gandhiji disappeared, but still that 
major difficulty remained — any action on our part must interfere 
with the war effort. Gandhiji, to our surprise, still clung to the 
belief that a settlement with the British Government was possible, 
and he said he would try his utmost to achieve it. And so, though 
he talked a great deal about action, he did not define it or indi- 
cate what he intended to do. 

While we were doubting and debating, the mood of the country 
changed, and from a sullen passivity it rose to a pitch of excite- 
ment and expectation. Events were not waiting for a Congress 
decision or resolution; they had been pushed forward by Gandhiji's 
utterances, and now they were moving onwards with their own 
momentum. It was clear that, whether Gandhiji was right or 
wrong, he had crystallized the prevailing mood of the people. 
There was a desperateness in it, an emotional urge which gave 
second place to logic and reason and a calm consideration of the 
consequences of action. Those consequences were not ignored, 
and it was realized that whether anything was achieved or not the 
price paid in human suffering would be heavy. But the price 
that was being paid from day to day in torture of the mind was 
also heavy and there was no prospect of escape from it. It was 
better to jump into the uncharted seas of action and do something, 
rather than be the tame objects of a malign fate. It was not a 
politician's approach but that of a people grown desperate and 
reckless of consequences; yet there was always an appeal to reason, 
an attempt to rationalize conflicting emotions, to find some 
consistency in the fundamental inconsistencies of human character. 
The war was going to be a long one, to last many more years; 
there had been many disasters and there were likely to be more, 
but the' war would continue in spite of them till it had tamed 
and exhausted the passions which gave rise to it and which it had 
itself encouraged. This time there would be no half-success which 
are often more painful than failures. It had taken a wrong turn 
not only in the field of military action but even more so in regard 
to the more fundamental objectives for which it was supposed to 
be fought. Perhaps such action as we might indulge in might draw 
forcible attention to this latter failure and help to give a new and 

•475 



more promising turn. And even if present success was lacking it 
might serve that saving purpose in the longer run, and thus help 
also in giving powerful support in the future to military action. 

If the temper of the people rose, so also did the temper of the 
Government. No emotional or other urge was required for this, 
for it was its natural temper and its normal way of functioning 
— the way of an alien authority in occupation of a subject country. 
It seemed to welcome this opportunity of crushing once for all, 
as it thought, all the elements in the country which dared to 
oppose its will; and for this it prepared accordingly. 

Events marched ahead, and yet, curiously, Gandhiji, who had 
said so much about action to protect the honour of India and 
affirm her right to freedom, and as a free nation to co-operate 
fully in the fight against aggression, said nothing at all about 
the nature of this action. Peaceful, of course, it had necessarily 
to be, but what more ? He began to lay greater stress on the possi- 
bilities of an agreement with the British Government, of his 
intention to approach it again and try his utmost to find a way 
out. His final speech at the All-India Congress Committee express- 
ed his earnest desire for a settlement and his determination to 
approach the Viceroy for this. Neither in public nor in private 
at the meetings of the Congress Working Committee did he hint 
at the nature of the action he had in mind, except in one particular. 
He had suggested privately that in the event of failure of all 
negotiations he would appeal for some kind of non-co-operation 
and a one-day protest hartal, or cessation of all work in the country, 
something in the nature of a one-day general strike, symbolic of 
a nation's protest. Even this was a vague suggestion which he did 
not particularize, for he did not want to make any further plans 
till he had made his attempt at a settlement. So neither he nor the 
Congress Working Committee issued any kind of directions, public 
or private, except that people should be prepared for all develop- 
ments, and should in any event adhere to the policy of peaceful 
and non-violent action. 

Though Gandhiji was still hopeful of finding some way out 
of the impasse, very few persons shared his hope. The course of 
events and all the development that had taken place pointed 
inevitably to a conflict, and when that stage is reached middle 
positions cease to have importance and each individual has to 
choose on which side he will range himself. For Congressmen, 
as for others who felt that way, there was no question of choice; 
it was inconceivable that the whole might of a powerful govern- 
ment should try to crush our people and that any of us should 
stand by and be passive spectators of a struggle in which India's 
freedom was involved. Many people of course do stand by in 
spite of their sympathies, but any such attempt to save himself 
from the consequences of his own previous acts would have been 

•476 



shameful and dishonourable for prominent Congressmen. But 
even apart from this there was no choice left far them. The 
whole of India's past history pursued them, as well as the agony 
of the present and the hope of the future, and all these drove 
them forward and conditioned their actions. 'The piling up of 
the past upon the past goes on without relaxation,' says Bergson 
in his 'Creative Evolution.' 'In reality the past is preserved by 
itself, automatically. In its entirety, probably, it follows us at 

every instant Doubtless we think with only a small part of 

our past, but it is with our entire past, including the original 
bent of our soul, that we desire, will and act.' 

On August 7th and 8th, in Bombay the All-India Congress 
Committee considered and debated in public the resolution, 
which has since come to be known as the 'Quit India Resolution.' 
That resolution was a long and comprehensive one, a reasoned 
argument for the immediate recognition of Indian freedom and 
the ending of British rule in India 'both for the sake of India and 
for the success of the cause of the United Nations. The continua- 
tion of that rule is degrading and enfeebling India and making 
her progressively less capable of defending herself and of contri- 
buting to the cause of world freedom.' 'The possession of empire, 
instead of adding to the strength of the ruling power, has become 
a burden and a curse. India, the classic land of modern imperia- 
lism, has become the crux of the question, for by the freedom of 
India will Britain and the United Nations be judged, and the 
peoples of Asia and Africa be filled with hope and enthusiasm.' 
The resolution went on to suggest the formation of a provisional 
government, which would be composite and would represent all 
important sections of the people and whose 'primary function 
must be to defend India and resist aggression with all the armed 
as well as the non-violent forces at its command, together with its 
allied powers.' This government would evolve a scheme for a consti- 
tuent assembly which would prepare a constitution for India 
acceptable to all sections of the people. The constitution would 
be a federal one, with the largest measure of autonomy for the 
federating units and with the residuary powers vesting in those 
units. 'Freedom will enable India to resist aggression effectively 
with the people's united will and strength behind it.' 

This freedom of India must be the symbol of the prelude to 
the freedom of all other Asiatic nations. Further, a world federa- 
tion of free nations was proposed, of which a beginning should 
be made with United Nations. 

The Committee stated that it was 'anxious not to embarrass 
in any way the defence of China and Russia, whose freedom is 
precious and must be preserved, or to jeopardize the defensive 
capacity of the United Nations.' (At that time the dangers to 
China and Russia were the greatest.) 'But the peril grows both 

•477 



to India and these nations, and inaction and submission to a 
foreign administration at this stage is not only degrading India 
and reducing her capacity to defend herself and resist aggression 
but is no answer to that growing peril and is no service to the 
peoples of the United Nations.' 

The Committee again appealed to Britain and the United 
Nations 'in the interest of world freedom.' But — and there came 
the sting of the resolution — 'the Committee is no longer justified 
in holding the nation back from endeavouring to assert its will 
against an imperialist and authoritarian Government which 
dominates over it and prevents it from functioning in its own 
interest and in the interest of humanity. The Committee resolves 
therefore to sanction, for the vindication of India's inalienable 
right to freedom and independence, the starting of a mass 
struggle on non-violent lines under the inevitable leadership of 
Gandhiji.' That sanction was to take effect only when Gandhiji 
so decided. Finally, it was stated that the Committee had 'no 
intention of gaining power for the Congress. The power, when 
it comes, will belong to the whole people of India.' 

In their concluding speeches Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, the 
Congress president, and Gandhiji made it clear that their next 
steps would be to approach the Viceroy, as representing the 
British Government, and to appeal to the heads of the principal 
United Nations for an honourable settlement, which, while recog- 
nizing the freedom of India, would also advance the cause of the 
United Nations in the struggle against the aggressor Axis powers. 

The resolution was finally passed late in the evening of August 
8th, 1942. A few hours later, in the early morning of August 
9th, a large number of arrests were made in Bombay and all over 
the country. And so to Ahmadnagar Fort.