THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA , CHAPTER -8

CHAPTER EIGHT 

THE LAST PHASE (2) 

Nationalism Versus Imperialism 

Helplessness of the Middle Glasses 

Gandhi Comes 



WORLD WAR I CAME. POLITICS WERE AT A LOW EBB, CHIEFLY BE- 

cause of the split in the Congress between the two sections, the 
so-called extremists and the moderates, and because of war-time 
restrictions and regulations. Yet one tendency was marked: the 
rising middle class among the Moslems was growing more nationa- 
ally minded and was pushing the Moslem League towards the 
Congress. They even joined hands. 

Industry developed during the war and produced enormous 
dividends — 100 to 200 per cent — from the jute mills of Bengal 
and the cotton mills of Bombay, Ahmedabad, and elsewhere. 
Some of these dividends flowed to the owners of foreign capital in 
Dundee and London, some went to swell the riches of Indian million- 
aires; and yet the workers who had created these dividends lived 
at an incredibly low level of existence — in 'filthy, disease-ridden 
hovels,' with no window or chimney, no light or water supply 
no sanitary arrangements. This near the so-called city of palaces 
Calcutta, dominated by British capital! In Bombay, where Indian 
capital was more in evidence, an inquiry commission found in one 
room, fifteen feet by twelve, six families, in all, thirty adults and 
children, living together. Three of these women were expecting 
a confinement soon, and each family had a separate oven in that 
one room. These are special cases, but they are not very exceptional. 
They describe conditions in the 'twenties and thirties ofthis century 
when some improvements had already been made. What these 
conditions were like previous to these improvements staggers the 
imagination.* 

I remember visiting some of these slums and hovels of indus- 
trial workers, gasping for breath there, and coming out dazed and 

* These quotations and facts are taken from B. Shiva Rao's 'The Industrial Worker i 
India' (Allen and Unwin, London, 1939) which deals with labour problems and workers 
conditions in India. 

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full of horror and anger. I remember also going down a coal mine 
injharia and seeing the conditions in which our womenfolk worked 
there. I can never forget that picture or the shock that came to 
me that human beings should labour thus. Women were subse- 
quently prohibited from working underground, but now they have 
been sent back there because, we are told, war needs require addi- 
tional labour; and yet millions of men are starving and unem- 
ployed. There is no lack of men, but the wages are so low and the 
conditions of work so bad that they do not attract. 

A delegation sent by the British Trade Union Congress visited 
India in 1928. In their report they said that 'In Assam tea the sweat, 
hunger, and despair of a million Indians enter year by year.' 
The Director of Public Health in Bengal, in his report for 1927- 
28, said that the peasantry of that province were 'taking to a dietary 
on which even rats could not live for more than five weeks.' 

World War I ended at last, and the peace, instead of bringing 
us relief and progress, brought us repressive legislation and martial 
law in the Punjab. A bitter sense of humiliation and a passionate 
anger filled our people. All the unending talk of constitutional 
reform and Indianization of the services was a mockery and an 
insult when the manhood of our country was being crushed and the 
inexorable and continuous process of exploitation was deepening 
our poverty and sapping our vitality. We had become a derelict 
nation. 

Yet what could we do, how change this vicious process? We 
seemed to be helpless in the grip of some all-powerful monster; 
our limbs were paralysed, our minds deadened. The peasantry 
were servile and fear-ridden; the industrial workers were no better. 
The middle classes, the intelligentsia, who might have been 
beacon-lights in the enveloping darkness, were themselves sub- 
merged in this all-pervading gloom. In some ways their condition 
was even more pitiful than that of the peasantry. Large numbers 
of them, declasse intellectuals, cut off from the land and incapable 
of any kind of manual or technical work, joined the swelling army 
of the unemployed, and helpless, hopeless, sank ever deeper into 
the morass. A few successful lawyers or doctors or engineers or 
clerks made little difference to the mass. The peasant starved, yet 
centuries of an unequal struggle against his environment had taught 
him to endure, and even in poverty and starvation he had a certain 
calm dignity, a feeling of submission to an all-powerful fate. Not 
so the middle classes, more especially the new petty bourgeoisie, 
who had no such background. Incompletely developed and frustra- 
ted, they did not know where to look, for neither the old nor the 
new offered them any hope. There was no adjustment to social 
purpose, no satisfaction of doing something worthwhile, even though 
suffering came in its train. Custom-ridden, they were born old, 
yet they were without the old culture. Modern thought attracted 

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them, but they lacked its inner content, the modern social and 
scientific consciousness. Some tried to cling tenaciously to the dead 
forms of the past, seeking relief from present misery in them. Rut 
there could be no relief there, for, as Tagore has said, we must not 
nourish in our being what is dead, for the dead is death-dealing. 
Others made themselves pale and ineffectual copies of the west. 
So, like derelicts, frantically seeking some foothold of security for 
body and mind and finding none, they floated aimlessly in the 
murky waters of Indian life. 

What could we do ? How could we pull India out of this quag- 
mire of poverty and defeatism which sucked her in? Not for a few 
years of excitement and agony and suspense, but for long genera- 
tions our people had offered their 'blood and toil, tears and sweat.' 
And this process had eaten its way deep into the body and soul of 
India, poisoning every aspect of our corporate life, like that fell 
disease which consumes the tissues of the lungs and kill slowly but 
inevitably. Sometimes we thought that some swifter and more 
obvious process, resembling cholera or the bubonic plague, would 
have been better; but that was a passing thought, for adventurism 
leads nowhere, and the quack treatment of deep-seated diseases 
does not yield results. 

And then Gandhi came. He was like a powerful current of fresh 
air that made us stretch ourselves and take deep breaths; like a 
beam of light that pierced the darkness and removed the scales 
from our eyes; like a whirlwind that upset many things, but most 
of all the working of people's minds. He did not descend from the 
top; he seemed to emerge from the millions of India, speaking their 
language and incessantly drawing attention to them and their appal- 
ling condition. Get off the backs of these peasants and workers, 
he told us, all you who live by their exploitation; get rid of the 
system that produces this poverty and misery. Political freedom took 
new shape then and acquired a new content. Much that he said we 
only partially accepted or sometimes did not accept at all. But all 
this was secondary. The essence of his teaching was fearlessness 
and truth, and action allied to these, always keeping the welfare 
of the masses in view. The greatest gift for an individual or a nation, 
so we had been told in our ancient books, was abhaya (fearlessness), 
not merely bodily courage but the absence of fear from the mind. 
Janaka and Yajnavalka had said, at the dawn of our history, that 
it was the function of the leaders of a people to make them fearless. 
But the dominant impulse in India under British rule was that of 
fear — pervasive, oppressing, strangling fear; fear of the army, the 
police, the widespread secret service; fear of the official class; 
fear of laws meant to suppress and of prison; fear of the landlord's 
agent; fear of the moneylender; fear of unemployment and starva- 
tion, which were always on the threshold. It was against this all- 
pervading fear that Gandhi's quiet and determined voice was 

358 



raised: Be not afraid. Was it so simple as all that? Not quite. 
And yet fear builds its phantoms which are more fearsome than 
reality itself, and reality, when calmly analysed and its consequences 
willingly accepted, loses much of its terror. 

So, suddenly, as it were, that black pall of fear was lifted from 
the people's shoulders, not wholly of course, but to an amazing 
degree. As fear is close companion to falsehood, so truth follows 
fearlessness. The Indian people did not become much more truthful 
than they were, nor did they change their essential nature over- 
night; nevertheless a sea-change was visible as the need for false- 
hood and furtive behaviour lessened. It was a psychological change, 
almost as if some expert in psycho-analytical methods had probed 
deep into the patient's past, found out the origins of his complexes, 
exposed them to his view, and thus rid him of that burden. 

There was that psychological reaction also, a feeling of shame at 
our long submission to an alien rule that had degraded and humi- 
liated us, and a desire to submit no longer whatevef the conse- 
quences might be. 

We did not grow much more truthful perhaps than we had 
been previously, but Gandhi was always there as a symbol of 
uncompromising truth to pull us up and shame us into truth. 
What is truth? I do not know for certain, and perhaps our truths 
are relative and absolute truth is beyond us. Different persons may 
and do take different views oftruth, and each individual is power- 
fully influenced by his own background, training, and impulses. 
So also Gandhi. But truth is at least for an individual what he him- 
self feels and knows to be true. According to this definition I do 
not know of any person who holds to the truth as Gandhi does. 
That is a dangerous quality in a politician, for he speaks out his 
mind and even lets the public see its changing phases. 

Gandhi influenced millions ofpeople in India in varying degrees. 
Some changed the whole texture of their lives, others were only 
partly affected, or the effect wore off; and yet not quite, for some 
part of it could not be wholly shaken off. Different people reacted 
differently and each will give his own answer to this question. 
Some might well say almost in the words of Alcibiades: 'Besides, 
when we listen to anyone else talking, however eloquent he is, 
we don't really care a damn what he says; but when we listen to 
you, or to someone else repeating what you've said, even if he puts 
it ever so badly, and never mind whether the person who is listen- 
ing is man, woman, or child, we're absolutely staggered and be- 
witched. And speaking for myself, gentlemen, if I wasn't afraid 
you'd tell me I was completely bottled, I'd swear on oath what an 
extraordinary effect his words have had on me — and still do, if 
it comes to that. For the moment I hear him speak I am smitten 
by a kind of sacred rage, worse than any Corybant, and my 
heart jumps into my mouth and the tears start into my eyes — 

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Oh, and not only me, but lots of other men. 

'And there is one thing I've never felt with anybody else — not 
the kind of thing you would expect to find in me, either — and 
that is a sense of shame. Socrates is the only man in the world 
that can make me feel ashamed. Because there's no getting away 
from it, I know I ought to do the things he tells me to; and yet 
the moment I'm out of his sight I don't care what I do to keep in 
with the mob. So I dash off like a runaway slave, and keep out 
of his way as long as I can: and the next time I meet him I re- 
member all that I had to admit the time before, and naturally 
I feel ashamed 

'Yes, I have heard Pericles and all the other great orators, and 
very eloquent I thought they were; but they never affected me 
like that; they never turned my whole soul upside down and left 
me feeling as if I were the lowest of the low; but this latter day 
Maryas, here, has often left me in such a state of mind that I've 
felt I simply couldn't go on living the way I did.. .. 

'Only I've been bitten by something much more poisonous 
than a snake; in fact, mine is the most painful kind of bite there 
is. I've been bitten in the heart, or the mind or whatever you like 
to call it '* 

The Congress Becomes a Dynamic Organization 
under Gandhi's Leadership 

Gandhi for the first time entered the Congress organization and 
immediately brought about a complete change in its constitution. 
He made it democratic and a mass organization. Democratic it 
had been previously also but it had so far been limited in franchise 
and restricted to the upper classes. Now the peasants rolled in and, 
in its new garb, it began to assume the look of a vast agrarian 
organization with a strong sprinkling of the middle classes. This 
agrarian character was to grow. Industrial workers also came in 
but as individuals and not in their separate organized capacity. 
Action was to be the basis and, objective of this organization, 
action based on peaceful methods. Thus far the alternatives had 
been just talking and passing resolutions, or terroristic activity. 
Both of these were set aside and terrorism was especially conde- 
mned as opposed to the basic policy of the Congress. A new 
technique of action was evolved which, though perfectly peaceful, 
yet implied non-submission to what was considered wrong and, 
as a consequence, a willing acceptance of the pain and suffering 
involved in this. Gandhi was an odd kind of pacifist, for he was an 
activist full of dynamic energy. There was no submission in him to 
fate or anything that he considered evil; he was full of resistance, 
though this was peaceful and courteous. 

*From 'The Five Dialogues of Plato', Everyman's Library. 
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The call of action was two-fold. There was, of course, the action 
involved in challenging and resisting foreign rule; there was also 
the action which led us to fight our own social evils. Apart from the 
fundamental objective of the Congress — the freedom of India — 
and the method of peaceful action, the principal planks of the 
Congress were national unity, which involved the solution of the 
minority problems, and the raising of the depressed classes and the 
ending of the curse of untouchability. 

Realizing that the main props of British rule were fear, prestige, 
the co-operation, willing or unwilling, of the people, and certain 
classes whose vested interests were centred in British rule, Gandhi 
attacked these foundations. Titles were to be given up and though 
the title-holders responded to this only in small measure, the popular 
respect for these British-given titles disappeared and they became 
symbols of degradation. New standards and values were set up 
and the pomp and splendour of the viceregal court and the princes, 
which used to impress so much, suddenly appeared supremely 
ridiculous and vulgar and rather shameful, surrounded as they 
were by the poverty and misery of the people. Rich men were not 
so anxious to flaunt their riches; outwardly at least many of them 
adopted simpler ways, and in their dress, became almost indistin- 
guishable from humbler folk. 

The older leaders of the Congress, bred in a different and more 
quiescent tradition, did not take easily to these new ways and were 
disturbed by the upsurge of the masses. Yet so powerful was the 
wave of feeling and sentiment that swept through the country, 
that some of this intoxication filled them also. A very few fell away 
and among them was Mr. M. A. Jinnah. He left the Congress not 
because of any difference of opinion on the Hindu-Moslem question 
but because he could not adapt himself to the new and more 
advanced ideology, and even more so because he disliked the crowds 
of ill-dressed people, talking in Hindustani, who filled the Congress. 
His idea of politics was of a superior variety, more suited to the 
legislative chamber or to a committee-room. For some years he 
felt completely out of the picture and even decided to leave India 
for good. He settled down in England and spent several years there. 

It is said, and I think with truth, that the Indian habit of mind 
is essentially one of quietism. Perhaps old races develop that 
attitude to life; a long tradition of philosophy also leads to it and 
yet Gandhi, a typical product of India, represents the very anti- 
thesis of quietism. He has been a demon of energy and action, a 
hustler, and a man who not only drives himself but drives others. 
He has done more than anyone I know to fight and change the 
quietism of the Indian people. 

He sent us to the villages, and the countryside hummed with the 
activity of innumerable messengers of the new gospel of action. 
The peasant was shaken up and he began to emerge from his 

3(il 



quiescent shell. The effect on us was different but equally far- 
reaching, for we saw, for the first time as it were, the villager in the 
intimacy of his mud-hut, and with the stark shadow of hunger 
always pursuing him. We learnt our Indian economics more from 
these visits than from books and learned discourses. The emotional 
experience we had already undergone was emphasized and con- 
firmed and henceforward there could be no going back for us to 
our old life or our old standards, howsoever much our views might 
change subsequently. 

Gandhi held strong views on economic, social, and other matters. 
He did not try to impose all of these on the Congress, though he 
continued to develop his ideas, and sometimes in the process varied 
them, through his writings. But some he tried to push into the 
Congress. He proceeded cautiously for he wanted to carry the people 
with him. Sometimes he went too far for the Congress and had to 
retrace his steps. Not many accepted his veiws in their entirety; 
some disagreed with that fundamental outlook. But many accepted 
them in the modified form in which they came to the Congress as 
being suited to the circumstances then existing. In two respects 
the background of his thought had a vague but considerable 
influence; the fundamental test of everything was how far it bene- 
fited the masses, and the means were always important and could 
not be ignored even though the end in view was right, for the means 
governed the end and varied it. 

Gandhi was essentially a man of religion, a Hindu to the 
inner-most depths of his being, and yet his conception of religion 
had nothing to do with any dogma or custom or ritual.* It was 
basically concerned with his firm belief in the moral law, which 
he calls the law of truth or love. Truth and non-violence appear 
to him to be the same thing or different aspects of one and the 
same thing, and he uses these words almost interchangeably. 
Claiming to understand the spirit of Hinduism, he rejects every 
text or practice which does not fit in with his idealist interpre- 
tation of what it should be, calling it an interpolation or a subse- 
quent accretion. '1 decline to be a slave,' he has said, 'to prece- 
dents or practice I cannot understand or defend on a moral basis.' 
And so in practice he is singularly free to take the path of his choice, 
to change and adapt himself, to develop his philosophy of life and 
action, subject only to the over-riding consideration of the moral 
law as he conceives this to be. Whether that philosophy is right 

*Gandhi told the Federation of International Fellowships in January, 1928, that 'After 
long study and experience I have come to these conclusions that: (1) all religions are true, 
(2) all religions have some error in them, (3) all religions are almost as dear to me as 
my own Hinduism. My veneration for other faiths is the same as for my own faith. 
Consequently, the thought of conversion is impossible... .Our prayer for others ought never 
to be: "God give them the light thou has given to me\" But: "Give them all the light 
and truth they need for their highest development!" ' 

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or wrong, may be argued, but he insists on applying the same 
fundamental yard-stick to everything, and himself especially. In 
politics, as in other aspects of life, this creates difficulties for the 
average person, and often misunderstanding. But no difficulty 
makes him swerve from the straight line of his choosing, though 
within limits he is continually adapting himself to a changing 
situation. Every reform that he suggests, every advice that he 
gives to others, he straightway applies to himself. He is always 
beginning with himself and his words and actions fit into each 
other like a glove on the hand. And so, whatever happens, he 
never loses his integrity and there is always an organic completeness 
about his life and work. Even in his apparent failures he has seemed 
to grow in stature. 

What was his idea of India which he was setting out to mould 
according to his own wishes and ideals? 'I shall work for an India 
in which the poorest shall feel that it is their country, in whose 
making they have an effective voice, an India in which there shall 
be no high class and low class of people, an India in which all 
communities shall live in perfect harmony... .There can be no 
room in such an India for the curse of untouchability or the curse 

of intoxicating drinks and drugs Women will enjoy the same 

right as men... .This is the India of my dreams.' Proud of his 
Hindu inheritance as he was, he tried to give to Hinduism a kind 
of universal attire and included all religions within the fold of 
truth. He refused to narrow his cultural inheritance. 

'Indian culture,' he wrote, 'is neither Hindu, Islamic, nor any 
other, wholly. It is a fusion of all.' Again he said: 'I want the 
culture of all lands to be blown about my house as freely as pos- 
sible. But I refuse to be blown off my feet by any. I refuse to live 
in other peoples' houses as an interloper, a beggar, or a slave.' 
Influenced by modern thought currents, he never let go of his 
roots and clung to them tenaciously. 

And so he set about to restore the spiritual unity of the people 
and to break the barrier between the small westernized group at 
the top and the masses, to discover the living elements in the old 
roots and to build upon them, to waken these masses out of their 
stupor and static condition and make them dynamic. In his 
single-track and yet many-sided nature the dominating impres- 
sion that one gathered was his identification with the masses, 
a community of spirit with them, an amazing sense of unity with 
the dispossessed and poverty-stricken not only of India but of the 
world. Even religion, as everything else, took second place to his 
passion to raise these submerged people. A semi-starved nation 
can have neither religion, nor art nor organization.' 'Whatever 
can be useful to starving millions is beautiful to my mind. Let us 
give to-day first the vital things of life, and all the graces and orna- 
ments of life will follow. ... I want art and literature that can speak 

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to millions.' These unhappy dispossessed millions haunted him 
and everything seemed to revolve round them. Tor millions it is 
an eternal vigil or an eternal trance.' His ambition, he said, was 
'to wipe every tear from every eye.' 

It is not surprising that this astonishingly vital man, full of 
self-confidence and an unusual kind of power, standing for equal- 
ity and freedom for each individual, but measuring all this in 
terms of the poorest, fascinated the masses of India and attracted 
them like a magnet. He seemed to them to link up the past with 
the future and to make the dismal present appear just as a step- 
ping-stone to that future oflife and hope. And not the masses only 
but intellectuals and others also, though their minds were often 
troubled and confused and the change-over for them from the 
habits of a lifetime was more difficult. Thus he effected a vast 
psychological revolution not only among those who followed his 
lead but also among his opponents and those many neutrals who 
could not make up their minds what to think and what to do. 

Congress was dominated by Gandhi and yet it was a peculiar 
domination, for the Congress was an active, rebellious, many- 
sided organization, full of variety of opinion, and not easily led 
this way or that. Often Gandhi toned down his position to meet 
the wishes of others, sometimes he accepted even an adverse 
decision. On some vital matters for him, he was adamant, and 
on more than one occasion there came a break between him and 
the Congress. But always he was the symbol of India's independ- 
ence and militant nationalism, the unyielding opponent of all 
those who sought to enslave her, and it was as such a symbol that 
people gathered to him and accepted his lead, even-though they 
disagreed with him on other matters. They did not always accept 
that lead when there was no active struggle going on, but when 
the struggle was inevitable that symbol became all important, 
and everything else was secondary. 

Thus in 1920 the National Congress, and to a large extent the 
country, took to this new and unexplored path and came into 
conflict repeatedly with the British power. The conflict was in- 
herent both in these methods and in the new situation that had 
arisen, yet back of all this was not political tactics and manoeuv- 
ring but the desire to strengthen the Indian people, for by that 
strength alone could they achieve independence and retain it. 
Civil disobedience struggles came one after the other, involving 
enormous suffering, but that suffering was self-invited and there- 
fore strength giving, not the kind which overwhelms the unwilling, 
leading to despair and defeatism. The unwilling also suffered, 
caught in the wide net of fierce governmental repression, and 
even the willing sometimes broke up and collapsed. But many 
remained true and steadfast, harder for all the experience they 
had undergone. At no time, even when its fortunes were low, did 

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Congress surrender to superior might or submit to foreign autho- 
rity. It remained the symbol of India's passionate desire for inde- 
pendence and her will to resist alien domination. It was because 
of this that vast numbers of the Indian people sympathized with 
it and looked to it for leadership, even though many of them 
were so weak and feeble, or so circumstanced, as to be unable to 
do anything themselves. The Congress was a party in some ways; 
it has also been a joint platform for several parties; but essentially 
it was something much more, for it represented the innermost 
desire of vast numbers of our people. The number of members 
on its rolls, large as this was, was only a feeble reflection of its 
widespread representative character for membership depended not 
on the people's desire to join but on our capacity to reach remote 
villages. Often (as now) we have been an illegal organisation, not 
existing at all in the eyes of the law, and our books and papers 
have been taken away by the police. 

Even when there was no civil disobedience struggle going on, 
the general attitude of non-co-operation with the British appa- 
ratus of government in India continued, though it lost its aggres- 
sive character. That did not mean, of course, non-co-operation 
with Englishmen as such. When Congress governments were 
installed in many provinces, there was inevitably much co-opera- 
tion in official and governmental work. Even then, however, that 
background did not change much and instructions were issued 
regulating the conduct of Congressmen, apart from official duties. 
Between Indian nationalism and an alien imperialism there could 
be no final peace, though temporary compromises and adjustments 
were sometimes inevitable. Only a free India could co-operate with 
England on equal terms. 

Congress Governments in the Provinces 

The British Parliament, after some years of commissions, com- 
mittees, and debates, passed a Government of India Act in 1935. 
This provided for some kind of provincial autonomy and a federal 
structure, but there were so many reservations and checks that 
both political and economic power continued to be concentrated 
in the hands of the British Government. Indeed in some ways it 
confirmed and enlarged the powers of an executive responsible 
solely to that Government. The federal structure was so envisaged 
as to make any real advance impossible, and no loophole was left 
for the representatives of the Indian people to interfere with or 
modify the system of British-controlled administration. Any change 
or relaxation of this could only come through the British Parlia- 
ment. Thus, reactionary as this structure was, there were not even 
any seeds in it of self-growth, short of some kind of revolutionary 
action. The Act strengthened the alliance between the British 

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Government and the princes, landlords, and other reactionary 
elements in India; it added to the separate electorates, thus increas- 
ing the separatist tendencies; it consolidated the predominant 
position of British trade, industry, banking, and shipping and laid 
down statutory prohibitions against any interference with this 
position, any 'discrimination,' as it was called;* it retained in 
British hands complete control over Indian finance, military, and 
foreign affairs; it made the Viceroy even more powerful than he 
had been. 

In the limited sphere of provincial autonomy the transfer of 
authority was, or appeared to be, much greater. Nevertheless, the 
position of a popular government was extraordinary. There were 
all the checks of viceregal powers and an irresponsible central 
authority, and even the Governor of the province, like the Viceroy, 
could intervene, veto, legislate on his own sole authority, and do 
almost anything he wanted even in direct opposition to the popular 
ministers and the provincial legislature. A great part of the re- 
venues were mortgaged to various vested interests and could not be 
used. The superior services and the police were protected and could 
hardly be touched by the ministers. They were wholly authori- 
tarian in outlook and looked, as of old, to the Governor for gui- 
dance and not to the ministers. And yet these were the very people 
through whom the popular government had to function. The 
whole complicated structure of government remained as it was, 
from the Governor down to the petty official and policeman; only 
somewhere in the middle a few ministers, responsible to a popu- 
larly elected legislature, were thrust in to carry on as best they 
could. If the Governor (who represented British authority) and 
the services under him agreed and fully co-operated with the 
ministers, the apparatus of government might function smoothly. 
Otherwise — and this was much more likely, as the policy and 
methods of a popular government differed entirely from the old 
authoritarian police-state ways — there was bound to be continuous 
friction. Even when the Governor or the services were not openly 
at variance with or disloyal to the policy of the popular govern- 
ment, they could obstruct, delay, pervert, and undo what that 
Government did or wished to do. In law there was nothing to 
prevent the Governor and the Viceroy from acting as they liked, 
even in active opposition to the ministry and the legislature; the 

'The removal of these statutory prohibitions is still fiercely resisted by representatives of 
British industry and trade in India. In April, 1945, a resolution demanding this removal 
was passed in the Central Assembly in spite of British opposition. Indian nationalism, and 
indeed all Indian parties and groups are strongly in favour of this removal, and of course 
Indian industrialists are most anxious about it. Andyet, it is significant to note that Indian 
businessmen in Ceylon are demanding exactly the same kind of protection in Ceylon which 
they rightly resent having been given to British business interests in India. Self-interest not 
only blinds one to justice andf air play but also to the simplest applications of logic and reason. 

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only real check was fear of conflict. The ministers might resign, 
no others could command a majority in the legislature, and popular 
upheavals might follow. It was the old constitutional conflict 
between an autocratic king and parliament which had so often taken 
place elsewhere, leading to revolutions and the suppression of 
the king. Here the king was in addition a foreign authority, 
supported by foreign military and economic power and the special 
interests and lap-dog breed it had created in the country. 

About this time also Burma was separated from India. In 
Burma there had been a conflict between British and Indian 
and, to some extent, Chinese, economic and commerical interests. 
It had therefore been British policy to encourage anti-Indian 
and anti-Chinese sentiments among the Burmese people. This 
policy was helpful for sometimes, but when it was joined on to a 
denial of freedom to the Burmese, it resulted in creating the power- 
ful pro-Japanese movements in Burma which came to the surface 
when the Japanese attacked in 1942. 

The Act of 1935 was bitterly opposed by all sections of Indian 
opinion. While the part dealing with provincial autonomy was 
severely criticized for its many reservations and the powers given 
to the Governors and the Viceroy, the federal part was even more 
resented. Federation as such was not opposed and it was generally 
recognized that a federal structure was desirable for India, but 
the proposed federation petrified British rule and vested interests 
in India. Only the provincial autonomy part of it was applied and 
the Congress decided to contest elections. But the question whe- 
ther responsibility for provincial governments should be under- 
taken, within the terms of the Act, led to fierce debate within the 
Congress. The success of the Congress in the elections was over- 
whelming in most of the provinces, but still there was hesitation 
in accepting ministerial responsibility unless it was made clear 
that there would be no interference by the Governor or Viceroy. 
After some months vague assurances were given to this effect and 
Congress governments were established in July, 1937. Ultimately 
there were such governments in eight of the eleven provinces, the 
three remaining ones being Sind, Bengal, and Punjab. Sind was 
a small, newly-created, and rather unstable province. In Bengal 
the Congress had the largest single party in the legislature, but as 
it was not in a majority, it did not participate in the Government. 
Bengal (or rather, Calcutta) being the principal headquarters of 
British capital in India, the European commercial element has 
been given astonishingly heavy representation. In numbers they 
are a mere handful (some thousands) and yet they have been 
given twenty-five seats as compared to the fifty seats for the general 
non-Moslem population consisting of about seventeen millions 
(apart from the scheduled castes) of the whole province. This 
British group in the legislature thus plays an important part 

367" 



in Bengal politics and can make or unmake ministries. 

The Congress could not possibly accept the Act of 1935 as even 
a temporary solution of the Indian problem. It was pledged to 
independence and to combat the Act. Yet a majority had decided 
to work provincial autonomy. It had thus a dual policy: to carry 
on the struggle for independence and at the same time to carry 
through the legislatures constructive measures of reform. The 
agrarian question especially demanded immediate attention. 

The question of Congressmen joining other groups to form 
coalition governments was considered, although there was no 
necessity for this as the Congress had clear majorities. Still it 
was desirable to associate as many people as possible in the work 
of government. There was nothing inherently wrong about coali- 
tions at all times, and indeed some form of coalition was agreed 
to in the Frontier Province and in Assam. As a matter of fact, 
the Congress itself was a kind of coalition or joint front of various 
groups tied together by the dominating urge for India's inde- 
pendence. In spite of this variety within its fold, it had developed 
a discipline, a social outlook, and a capacity to offer battle in its 
own peaceful way. A wider coalition meant a joining up with 
people whose entire political and social outlook was different, 
and who were chiefly interested in office and ministerships. 
Conflict was inherent in the situation, conflict with the repre- 
sentatives of British interests — the Viceroy, the Governor, the 
superior services; conflict also with vested interests in land and 
industry over agrarian questions and workers' conditions. The 
non-Congress elements were usually politically and socially con- 
servative; some ofthem were pure careerists. If such elements enter- 
ed government, they might tone down our whole social programme, 
or at any rate obstruct and delay it. There might even be intrigues 
with the Governor over the heads of the other ministers. A joint 
front against British authority was essential. Any breach in this 
would be harmful to our cause. There would have been no binding 
cement, no common loyalty, no united objective, and individual 
ministers would have looked and pulled in different directions. 

Our public life naturally included many who could be called 
politicians and nothing more, careerists, both in the good and 
bad sense of the word. There were able, earnest, and patriotic 
men and women, as well as careerists, both in the Congress and 
in other organizations. But the Congress had been, ever since 
1920, something much more than a constitutional political party, 
and the breath of revolutionary action, actual or potential, sur- 
rounded it and often put it outside the pale of the law. The 
fact that this action was not connected with violence, secret 
intrigue, and conspiracy, the usual accompaniments of revolu- 
tionary activity, did not make it any the less revolutionary. 
Whether it was right or wrong, effective or not, may be an 

368" 



arguable matter, but it is manifest that it involved cold-blooded 
courage and endurance of a high order. Perhaps it is easier to 
indulge in short violent spurts of courage, even unto death, than 
to give up, under the sole compulsion of one's own mind, almost 
everything that life offers and carry on in this way day after day, 
month after month, year after year. That is a test which few 
can survive anywhere and it is surprising that so many in India 
have stood it successfully.. 

The Congress parties in the legislatures were anxious to pass 
legislative measures in favour of the peasants and workers as 
soon as possible before some crisis overwhelmed them. That 
sense of impending crisis was always present; it was inherent 
in the situation. In nearly all the provinces there were second 
chambers elected on a very limited franchise and thus represent- 
ing vested interests in land and industry. There were also other 
checks to progressive legislation. Coalition governments would 
add to all these difficulties and it was decided not to have them 
•to begin with, except in Assam and the Frontier. 

This decision was itself by no means final and the possibility 
of change was kept in view, but rapidly developing circum- 
stances made any change more difficult and the Congress govern- 
ments in the provinces became entangled in the numerous pro- 
blems that urgently demanded solution. In subsequent years 
there has been much argument about the wisdom of that decsiion 
and opinions have differed. It is easy to be wise after the event, 
but I am still inclined to think that politically, and situated as 
we were then, it was a natural and logical decision for us. Never- 
theless it is true that the consequences of it on the communal 
question were unfortunate and it led to a feeling of grievance 
and isolation among many Moslems. This played into the hands 
of reactionary elements who utilized it to strengthen their own 
position among certain groups. 

Politically and constitutionally, the new Act and the establish- 
ment of Congress governments in the provinces made no vital 
difference to the British structure of government. Real power 
remained where it had so long been. But the psychological change 
was enormous and an electric current seemd to run through the 
countryside. This change was noticeable more in the rural areas 
than in the cities, though in the industrial centres the workers 
also reacted in the same way. There was a sense of immense relief 
as of the lifting of a weight which had been oppressing the people; 
there was a release of long-suppressed mass energy which was 
evident everywhere. The fear of the police and secret service 
vanished for a while at least and even the poorest peasant added 
to his feeling of self-respect and self-reliance. For the first time 
he felt that he counted and could not be ignored. Government 
was no longer an unknown and intangible monster, separated 

369" 



from him by innumerable layers of officials, whom he could not 
easily approach and much less influence, and who were bent on 
extracting as much out of him as possible. The seats of the mighty 
were now occupied by men he had often seen and heard and 
talked to; sometimes they had been in prison together and there 
was a feeling of comradeship between them. 

At the headquarters of the provincial governments, in the very 
citadels of the old bureaucracy, many a symbolic scene was wit- 
nessed. These provincial secretariats, as they were called, where 
all the high offices were congregated, had been the holy of holies 
of government, and out of them issued mysterious orders which 
none could challenge. Policemen and red-liveried orderlies, with 
shining daggers thrust in their waistbands, guarded the precincts, 
and only those who were fortunate or greatly daring or had a long 
purse, could pass them. Now, suddenly, hordes of people, from 
the city and the village, entered these sacred precincts and roamed 
about almost at will. They were interested in everything; they 
went into the Assembly Chamber, where the sessions used to be 
held; they even peeped into the Ministers' rooms. It was difficult 
to stop them for they no longer felt as outsiders; they had a sense 
of ownership in all this, although it was all very complicated for 
them and difficult to understand. The policemen and orderlies 
with shining daggers were paralysed; the old standards had fallen; 
European dress, symbol of position and authority, no longer 
counted. It was difficult to distinguish between members of the 
legislatures and the peasants and townsmen who came in such 
large numbers. They were often dressed more or less alike, mostly 
in handspun cloth with the well-known Gandhi cap on their 
heads. 

It had been very different in the Punjab and in Bengal where 
ministries had come into existence several months earlier. 
There had been no impasse there and the change-over had taken 
place quietly without ruffling the surface of life in any way. 
In the Punjab especially the old order continued and most of the 
ministers were not new. They had been high officials previously 
and they continued to be so. Between them and the British 
administration there was no conflict or sense of tension, for 
politically that administration was supreme. 

This difference between the Congress provinces and Bengal 
and Punjab was immediately apparent in regard to civil liberties 
and political prisoners. In both Bengal and Punjab there was 
no relaxation of the police and secret service raj, and political 
prisoners were not released. In Bengal, where the ministry often 
depended on European votes, there were in addition thousands 
of detenus, that is, men and women kept indefinitely for years 
and years in prison without charge or trial. In the Congress 
provinces, however, the very first step taken was the release of 

370" 



political prisoners. In regard to some of these, who had been 
convicted for violent activities, there was delay because of the 
Governor's refusal to agree. Matters came to a head early in 1938 
over this issue and two of the Congress Governments (United 
Provinces and Bihar) actually offered their resignations. There- 
upon the Governor withdrew his objections and the prisoners 
were released. 

Indian Dynamism versus British Conservatism in India 

The new provincial assemblies had a much larger representation 
from the rural areas and this inevitably led to a demand in all 
of them for agrarian reforms. In Bengal, because of the perma- 
nent settlement and for other reasons, the condition ofthe tenantry 
was worst of all. Next came the other big zamindari (landlord) 
provinces, chiefly Bihar and the United Provinces, and thirdly 
the provinces where originally some kind of peasant proprietor- 
ship had been established (Madras, Bombay, Punjab, etc.), but 
where big landed estates had also grown up. The permanent 
settlement came in the way of any effective reform in Bengal. 
Almost everybody is agreed that this must go, and even an official 
commission has recommended it, but vested interests still manage 
to prevent or delay change. The Punjab was fortunate in having 
fresh land at its disposal. 

For the Congress the agrarian question was the dominating 
social issue and much time had been given to its study and the 
formulation of policy. This varied in different provinces as con- 
ditions were different and also the class composition of the pro- 
vincial Congress organizations, differed from one another. There 
was an all-India agrarian policy which had been formulated by 
the central organization and each province added to it and filled 
in the details. The United Provinces Congress was in this respect 
the most advanced and it had reached the conclusion that the 
zamindari (landlord) system should be abolished. This, however, 
was impossible under the Government of India Act of 1935, even 
apart from the special powers of the Viceroy and the Governor, 
and the second chamber which largely consisted of the landed 
class. Changes had thus to be made within the larger framework 
of this system, unless of course some revolutionary upheaval ended 
that system itself. This made reform difficult and terribly compli- 
cated and it took much longer than was anticipated. 

However, substantial agrarian reforms were introduced and 
the problem of rural indebtedness was also attacked. So also 
labour conditions in factories, public health and sanitation, local 
seif-government, education both in the lower stages and in the 
university, literacy, industry, rural development, and many other 
problems were tackled. All these social, cultural, and economic 

371" 



problems had been ignored and neglected by previous govern- 
ments, their function had been to make the police and the revenue 
departments efficient and to allow the rest to take their own 
course. Occasionally some little effort had been made and com- 
missions and inquiry committees had been appointed, which 
produced huge reports after years of labour and travelling about. 
Then the reports had been put away in their respective pigeon- 
holes and little was done. Even proper statistics had not been 
collected, in spite of insistent popular demand. This lack of 
statistics and surveys and necessary information had been a 
serious impediment in the way of progress in any direction. 
Thus the new provincial governments had, apart from the nor- 
mal work of administration, to face a mountain of work, the 
result of years of neglect, and on every side urgent problems 
faced them. They had to change a police-state into a socially- 
guided state — never an easy job but made much more difficult 
by the limitation on their power, the poverty of the people, and 
the divergence of outlook between these provincial governments 
and the central authority, which was completely autocratic and 
authoritarian, under the Viceroy. 

We knew all these limitations and barriers, we realized in our 
hearts that we could not do much till conditions were radically 
changed — hence our overwhelming desire for independence — 
and yet the passion for progress filled us and the wish to emulate 
other countries which had gone so far ahead in many ways. We 
thought of the United States of America and even of some eastern 
countries which were forging ahead. But most of all we had the 
example of the Soviet Union which in two brief decades, full of 
war and civil strife and in the face of what appeared to be insur- 
mountable difficulties, had made tremendous progress. Some 
were attracted to communism, others were not, but all were 
fascinated by the advance of the Soviet Union in education 
and culture and medical care and physical fitness and in the 
solution of the problem of nationalities — by the amazing and 
prodigious effort to create a new world out of the dregs of the 
old. Even Rabindranath Tagore, highly individualistic as he 
was and not attracted towards some aspects of the communistic 
system, became an admirer of this new civilization and contrasted 
it with present conditions in his own country. In his last death-bed 
message he referred to the 'unsparing energy with which Russia 
has tried to fight disease and illiteracy, and has succeeded in steadily 
liquidating ignorance and poverty, wiping off the humiliation 
from the face of a vast continent. Her civilization is free from all 
invidious distinction between one class and another, between one 
sect and another. The rapid and astounding progress achieved 
by her made me happy and jealous at the same time... .When 
I see elsewhere some 200 nationalities — which only a few years 

372" 



ago were at vastly different stages of development — marching 
ahead in peaceful progress and amity, and when I look about my 
own country and see a very highly evolved and intellectual people 
drifting into the disorder of barbarism, I cannot help contrasting 
the two systems of governments, one based on co-operation, the 
other on exploitation, which have made such contrary conditions 
possible.' 

If others could do it, why not we? We had faith in our capacity, 
our intelligence, our will to persevere, to endure and succeed. 
We knew the difficulties, our poverty and backwardness, our 
reactionary groups and classes, our divisions; yet we would face 
them and overcome them. We knew that the price was a heavy 
one, but we were prepared to pay it, for no price could be greater 
than what we paid from day to day in our present condition. But 
how were we to begin on our internal problems when the external 
problem of British rule and occupation faced us at every turn and 
nullified our every effort? 

Yet since we had some opportunity, however limited and restric- 
ted, in these provincial governments, we wanted to take advantage 
of it in the fullest measure. But it was a heart-breaking job for 
our ministers, who were overwhelmed with work and responsibility, 
and could not even share this with the permanent services, because 
of the lack of harmony and the absence of a common outlook. 
Unfortunately also, the number of these ministers was much too 
small. They were supposed to set an example in plain living and 
economy in public expenditure. Their salaries were small, and 
we had the curious spectacle of a minister's secretary or some 
other subordinate belonging to the Indian Civil Service drawing a 
salary and allowances which were four or five times the minister's 
salary. We could not touch the emoluments of the Civil Service. 
Also the minister would travel second-class by railway train, or 
even third, while some subordinate of his might be travelling first 
or in a lordly saloon in the same train. 

It has often been stated that the central Congress Executive 
continually interfered with the work of these provincial govern- 
ments by issuing orders from above. This is entirely incorrect, 
and there was no interference with the internal administration. 
What the Congress Executive desired was that a common policy 
on all fundamental political matters should be followed by the 
provincial governments, and that the Congress programme, as 
laid down in the election manifesto, should be furthered in so 
far as this was possible. In particular, the policy vis-a-vis the 
governors and the Government of India had to be uniform. 

The introduction of provincial autonomy without any change 
in the central government, which continued to be wholly irres- 
ponsible and authoritarian, was likely to lead to a growth of 
provincialism and diversity, and thus to a lessening of the sense 

373" 



of Indian unity. Probably the British Government had this in 
view in furtherance of its policy of encouraging disruptive elements 
and tendencies. The Government of India, irremovable, irresponsi- 
ble, and unresponsive, still representing the old tradition of British 
imperialism, stood as solid as a rock, and, of course, pursued a 
uniform policy with all the provincial governments. The Gover- 
nors, acting on instructions from New Delhi or Simla did likewise. 
If the Congress provincial governments had reacted differently 
from this, each in its own way, they could have been disposed of 
separately. It was essential, therefore, for these provincial govern- 
ments to hold together and present a united front to the Govern- 
ment of India. The Government of India, on the other hand, was 
equally anxious to prevent this co-operation, and preferred to deal 
with each provincial government separately without reference to 
similar problems elsewhere. 

In August, 1937, soon after the formation of the Congress provin- 
cial governments, the Congress Executive passed the following 
resolution: 

'The Working Committee recommend to the Congress minis- 
ters the appointment of a committee of experts to consider urgent 
and vital problems, the solution of which is necessary to any scheme 
of national reconstruction and social planning. Such solution will 
require extensive surveys and the collection of data, as well as a 
clearly-defined social objective. Many of these problems cannot 
be dealt with efficiently on a provincial basis, and the interests of 
adjoining provinces are interlinked. Comprehensive river 
surveys are necessary for the formulation of a policy to prevent 
disastrous floods, to utilise the water for the purposes of irrigation, 
to consider the problem of soil erosion, to eradicate malaria, and 
for the development of hydro-electric and other schemes. For this 
purpose the whole river valley will have to be surveyed and 
investigated, and large-scale state planning resorted to. The develop- 
ment and control of industries require also joint and co-ordinate 
action on the part of several provinces. The Working Committee 
advise therefore that, to begin with, an inter-provincial committee 
of experts be appointed to consider the general nature of the 
problems to be faced, and to suggest how, and in what order, 
those should be tackled. This expert committee may suggest the 
formation of special committees or boards to consider each such 
problem separately, and to advise the provincial governments con- 
cerned as to the joint action to be undertaken.' 

This resolution indicates the kind of advice that was sometimes 
tendered to the provincial governments. It shows also how desirous 
the Congress Executive was to encourage co-operation between 
provincial governments in the economic and industrial sphere. 
That co-operation was not limited to the Congress governments, 
although the advice was neces sarily addressed to them. A compre- 

374" 



hensive river survey overlapped provincial boundaries; a survey 
of the Gangetic valley and the setting up of a Ganga River 
Commission (a work of the highest importance which yet 
awaits to be done) could only take place with the co-operation 
of the three provincial governments — those of the United Pro- 
vinces, Bihar, and Bengal. 

The resolution also demonstrates the importance attached by 
the Congress to large-scale state planning. Such planning was 
impossible so long as the central government was not under 
popular control and the shackles on the provincial governments 
had not been removed. We hoped, however, that some essential 
preliminary work might be done and the foundations for future 
planning laid down. Unfortunately, the provincial governments 
were so busy with their own problems that there was delay in 
giving effect to this resolution. Late in 1938 a National Plan- 
ning Committee was constituted, and I became chairman of it. 

I was often critical of the work of the Congress Governments 
and fretted at the slowness of progress made; but, looking back, 
I am surprised at their achievements during a brief period of 
two years and a quarter, despite the innumerable difficulties 
that surrounded them. Unfortunately, some of their important 
work did not bear fruit, as it was on the point of completion 
when they resigned, and it was shelved afterwards by their succes- 
sor — that is, the British Governor. Both the peasantry and 
industrial labour benefited and grew in strength. One of the 
most important and far-reaching achievements was the introduc- 
tion of a system of mass education called basic education. This 
was not only based on the latest educational doctrine but was 
peculiarly suited to Indian conditions. 

Every vested' interest came in the way of progressive change. 
A committee appointed by the United Provinces Government to 
inquire into labour conditions in the Cawnpore textile industry 
was treated by the employers (chiefly Europeans but including 
some Indians) with the greatest discourtesy, and many of the 
facts and figures demanded were refused. Labour had long faced 
the organized opposition of both the employers and Govern- 
ment, and the police had always been at the disposal of the 
employers. The change in policy introduced by the Congress 
Governments was therefore resented by the employers. Of the 
tactics of employers in India, Mr. B. Shiva Rao, who has had 
long experience of the Labour movement in India and belongs 
to the moderate wing of it, writes: 'The amount of resourceful- 
ness and lack of scruple exhibited on such occasions (strikes etc.) 
by the employers with the assistance of police would be incredi- 
ble to one unacquainted with Indian conditions.' The govern- 
ment of most countries, constituted as it is, inclines towards the 
employers. In India, Mr. Shiva Rao points out, there is an addi- 

375" 



tional reason for this. 'Apart from personal animosities, officials 
in India with rare exceptions have been obsessed with the fear 
that trade unions, if allowed to develop, would foster mass con- 
sciousness; and with the political struggle in India periodically 
flaring up into movements like non-co-operation and civil disobe- 
dience, they have felt presumably that no risks should be taken 
in regard to the organization of the masses.'* 

Governments lay down policy, legislatures pass laws; but the 
actual working out of this policy and the application of these 
laws depend ultimately on the services and the administrative 
personnel. The provincial governments had thus inevitably to 
rely on the permanent services, especially the Indian civil service 
and the police. These services, bred in a different and authori- 
tarian tradition, disliked the new atmosphere, the assertive 
attitude of the public, the lessening of their own importance, 
and their subordination to persons whom they had been in the 
habit of arresting and imprisoning. They had been rather 
apprehensive at first as to what might happen. But nothing 
very revolutionary happened and they gradually settled down 
to their old rountine. It was not easy for the ministers to inter- 
fere with the man on the spot and only in obvious cases could 
they do so. The services formed a close corporation and hung 
together, and if one man was transferred, his successor was likely 
to act in the same way. It was impossible to change suddenly 
the old reactionary and autocratic mentality of the services as a 
whole. A few individuals might change, some might make an 
effort to adapt themselves to the new conditions, but the vast 
majority of them thought differently and had always functioned 
differently; how could they undergo a sea-change and emerge 
as crusaders of a new order? At the most they could give a 
passive and heavy-moving loyalty; there could not, in the very 
nature of things, be a flaming enthusiasm for the new kind of 
work to be done, in which they did not believe and which under- 
mined their own vested interests. Unfortunately even this passive 
loyalty was often lacking. 

Among the higher members of the civil service, long accustom- 
ed to authoritarian methods and unchecked rule, there was a 
feeling that these ministers and legislators were intruders in a 
domain reserved for them. The old conception that they, the 
permanent services and especially the British element in them, 
were India and all others were unimportant appendages, died 
hard. It was not easy to suffer the new-comers, much less to 
take orders from them. They felt as an orthodox Hindu might 
feel if untouchables pushed their way into the sacred precincts 
of his own particular temple. The edifice of prestige and racial 

*B. Shiva Rao: 'The Industrial Worker in India' (London, 1939). 
376" 



superiority which had been built with so much labour, and which 
had almost become a religion to them, was cracking. The Chinese 
are said to be great believers in 'face,' and yet I doubt if any 
among them are so passionately attached to 'face' as the British 
in India. For the latter it is not only individual, racial, and 
national prestige; it is also intimately connected with their rule 
and vested interests. 

Yet the intruders had to be tolerated, but the toleration grew 
progressively less as the sense of danger receded. This attitude 
permeated all departments of the administration, but it was 
especially in evidence away from headquarters, in the districts, 
and in matters relating to, what is called, Law and Order, which 
was the special preserve of the district magistrate and the police. 
The emphasis of the Congress governments on civil liberty gave 
the local officials and the police an excuse for allowing things to 
happen which, ordinarily, no government could have permitted. 
Indeed I am convinced that in some cases the initiative for 
these undesirable occurrences came from the local officials 
or the police. Many of the communal (religious) riots that took 
place were due to a variety of causes, but the magistrates and the 
police were certainly not always free from guilt. Experience showed 
that a quick and efficient handling of the situation put an end to 
the trouble. What we saw repeatedly was an astonishing slackness 
and a deliberate evasion of duty. It became obvious that the 
objective was to discredit the Congress governments. In the 
Provinces, the industrial city of Cawnpore offered the most glaring 
example of utter ineptitude and mismanagement on the 
part of the local officials, which could only be deliberate. Com- 
munal (religious) friction, leading sometimes to local riots, had been 
more in evidence in the late twenties and early thirties. After the 
Congress governments took office it was in many ways much less. 
It changed its nature and became definitely political and deliberately 
encouraged and organized. 

The civil service had a reputation, chiefly self-propagated, for 
efficiency. But it became evident that outside the narrow sphere 
of work to which they had been accustomed, they were helpless 
and incompetent. They had no training to function democrati- 
cally and could not gain the goodwill and co-operation of the 
people, whom they both feared and despised; they had no con- 
ception of big and fast-moving schemes of social progress and 
could only hamper them by their red-tape and lack of imagina- 
tion. Apart from certain individuals, this applied to both British 
and Indian members of the higher services. It was extraordinary 
how unfitted they were for the new tasks that faced them. 

There was, of course, a great deal of inefficiency and incom- 
petence on the popular side. But it was counterbalanced by 
energy and enthusiasm, and close touch with masses, and a 

377" 



desire and capacity to learn from one's own mistakes. There was 
vitality there, a bubbling life, a sense of tension, a desire to get 
things done, all of which contrasted strangely with the apathy 
and conservatism of the British ruling class and their supporters. 
India, the land of tradition, thus offered a strange picture of reversal 
of roles. The British, who had come here as representatives of a 
dynamic society, were now the chief upholders of a static, unchang- 
ing tradition; among the Indians there were many who represented 
the new dynamic order and were eager for change, change not 
only political but also social and economic. Behind those Indians 
there were, of course, vast new forces at work which perhaps even 
they hardly realized. This reversal of roles was a demonstration 
of the fact that whatever creative or progressive role the British 
might have played in the past in India, they had long ceased to 
play it, and were now a hindrance and an obstruction to all progress. 
The tempo of their official life was slow and incapable of solving 
any of the vital problems before India. Even their utterances, 
which used to have some clarity and strength, became turgid, inept, 
and lacking any real content. 

There has long been a legend, propagated by British authori- 
ties, that the British Government, through its higher services in 
India, was training us for the difficult and intricate art of self- 
government. We had managed to carry on, and with a consi- 
derable degree of success, for a few thousand years before the 
British came here and gave us the advantage of their training. 
No doubt we lack many of the good qualities that we should 
possess, and some misguided persons e.ven say that this deficiency 
has grown under British rule. But whatever our failings might 
be, it seemed obvious to us that the permanent services here 
were totally incapable of leading India in any progressive direc- 
tion. The very qualities they possessed made them unhelpful, 
for the qualities necessary in a police state are utterly different 
from those required in a progressive democratic community. 
Before they could presume to train others, it would be necessary 
for them to untrain themselves, and to bathe in the waters of 
Lethe so that they might forget what they had been. 

The odd position of a popular provincial government with 
an autocratic central government over it brought out many 
strange contrasts. The Congress governments were anxious to 
preserve civil liberties and they checked the wide-flung activities 
of the provincial C.I.D. (Criminal Investigation Department) 
whose chief function had been to shadow politicians and all 
those who were suspected of anti-government sentiments. While 
these activities were checked, the Imperial C.I.D. continued to 
function, probably with greater energy. Not only were our letters 
censored, but even the ministers' correspondence was sometimes 
subjected to this, though it was done quietly and not officially 

378" 



admitted. During the last quarter of a century or more 
I have not written a single letter, which has been posted in 
India, either to an Indian, or a foreign address, without realiz- 
ing that it would be seen, and possibly copied, by some secret 
service censor. Nor have I spoken on the telephone without 
remembering that my conversation was likely to be tapped. The 
letters that have reached me also have had to pass some censor. 
This does not mean that every single letter is always censored; 
sometimes this has been done, at other times selected ones are 
examined. This has nothing to do with the war, when there is 
a double censorship. 

Fortunately we have functioned in the open and there has 
been nothing to hide in our political activities. Nevertheless 
this feeling of being subjected to continuous censorship, to prying 
and tapping and overhearing, is not a pleasant one. It irritates 
and oppresses and even comes in the way ofpersonal relationships. 
It is not easy to write as one would like to, with the censor peering 
over one's shoulder. 

The ministers worked hard and many of them broke down 
under the strain. Their health deteriorated and all the freshness 
faded away, leaving them haggard and utterly weary. But a sense 
of purpose kept them going and they made their Indian civil 
service secretaries and their staffs work hard also; the lights in 
their offices were on till late in the evening. When the Congress 
governments resigned early in November, 1939, there was many 
a sigh of relief; the government offices were henceforth closed 
punctually at four in the afternoon, and reverted to their pre- 
vious aspect of cloistered chambers where quiet prevailed and 
the public was not welcomed. Life went back to its old routine 
and slow tempo, and the afternoons and evenings were free for 
polo and tennis and bridge and the amenities of club life. A 
bad dream had faded and business and play could now be carried 
on as in the old days. True, there was a war on, thus far only in 
Europe, and Poland had been crushed by Hitler's legions. But 
all this was far away, and anyway it was a phoney war. While 
soldiers did their duty and fought and died, here also duty had 
to be performed and this duty was to bear the white man's burden 
worthily and with dignity. 

The brief period during which the Congress governments 
functioned in the provinces confirmed our belief that the major 
obstruction to progress in India was the political and economic 
structure imposed by the British. It was perfectly true that many 
traditional habits and social forms and practices were barriers to 
progress and they had to go. Yet the inherent tendency of Indian 
economy to expand was not restricted so much by these forms and 
habits as by the political and economic stranglehold of the British. 
But for that steel framework, expansion was inevitable, bringing 

379" 



in its wake many social changes and the ending of out-worn customs 
and ceremonial patterns. Hence attention had to be concentrated 
on the removal of that framework, and the energy spent on other 
matters bore little result and was often like ploughing the sands. 
That framework was itself based on and protected the semi-feudal 
land tenure system and many other relics of the past. Any kind 
of democracy in India was incompatible with the British political 
and economic structure, and conflict between the two was inevi- 
table. Hence the partial democracy of 1937-39 was always on the 
verge of conflict. Hence also the official British view that demo- 
cracy in India had not been successful, because they could only 
consider it in terms of maintaining the structure and values and 
vested interests they had built up. As the kind of tame and sub- 
servient democracy of which they could have approved was not 
forthcoming, and all manner of radical changes were aimed at, 
the only alternative left to the British power was to revert to a 
purely authoritarian regime and put an end to all pretensions of 
democracy. There is a marked similarity in the development of 
this outlook and the birth and growth of fascism in Europe. 
Even the rule of law on which the British had prided themselves 
in India gave place to something in the nature of a state of siege 
and rule by ordinance and decree. 

The Question of Minorities 
The Moslem League: Mr. M. A. Jinnah 

The development and growth of the Moslem League during the 
last seven years has been an unusual phenomenon. Started in 
1906 with British encouragement and in order to keep away the 
new generation of Moslems from the National Congress, it re- 
mained a small upper-class organization controlled by feudal 
elements. It had no influence on the Moslem masses and was 
hardly known by them. By its very constitution it was limited to 
a small group and a permanent leadership which perpetuated 
itself. Even so, events and the growing middle class among the 
Moslems pushed it in the direction of the Congress. World War 
I and the fate of the Turkish Khilafat (Caliphate) and the Moslem 
holy places produced a powerful impression on the Moslems of 
India and made them intensely anti-British. The Moslem League, 
constituted as it was, could not offer any guidance or leadership 
to these awakened and excited masses; indeed the League suffered 
from an attack of nerves and practically faded away. A new Moslem 
organization grew up inc lose co-operation with the Congress — 
the Khilafat Committee. Large numbers of Moslems also joined 
the Congress and worked through it. After the first non-co-opera- 
tion movement of 1920-23, the Khilafat Committee also began to 
fade away as its very raison d'etre had disappeared — the Turkish 

380" 



Khilafat. The Moslem masses drifted away from political activity, 
as also the Hindu masses to a lesser extent. But a very consider- 
able number of Moslems, chiefly of the middle classes, continued 
to function through the Congress. 

During this period a number of petty Moslem organizations 
functioned spasmodically, often coming into conflict with each 
other. They had no mass affiliations, no political importance 
except such as was given to them by the British Government. 
Their chief function was to demand special privileges and pro- 
tection for the Moslems in the legislatures and services. In this 
matter they did represent a definite Moslem viewpoint, for there 
was a background of resentment and fear among the Moslems 
at the superior position of the Hindus in education, services, and 
industry, as well as in numbers. Mr. M. A. Jinnah retired from 
Indian politics, and indeed from India, and settled down in England. 

During the second Civil Disobedience movement of 1930 the 
response from the Moslems was very considerable, though less than 
in 1920-23. Among those who were jailed in connection with this 
movement there were at least 10,000 Moslems. The North-West 
Frontier Province, which is an almost entirely Moslem province 
(95 per cent Moslems) played a leading and remarkable part in 
this movement. This was largely due to the work and personality 
of Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan, the unquestioned and beloved 
leader of the Pathans in this province. Of all the remarkable 
happenings in India in recent times, nothing is more astonishing 
than the way in which Abdul Ghaffar Khan made his turbulent 
and quarrelsome people accept peaceful methods of political 
action, involving enormous suffering. That suffering was indeed 
terrible and has left a trail of bitter memories; and yet their discip- 
line and self-control were such that no act of violence was committed 
by the Pathans against the Government forces or others opposed 
to them. When it is remembered that a Pathan loves his gun more 
than his brother, is easily excited, and has long had a reputation 
for killing at the slightest provocation, this self-discipline appears 
little short of miraculous. 

The Frontier Province, under Abdul Ghaffar Khan's leadership, 
stood firmly by the side of the National Congress, so also did a 
large number of the politically conscious middle-class Moslems 
elsewhere. Among the peasantry and workers, Congress influence 
was considerable, especially in provinces like the United Provinces, 
which had an advanced agrarian and workers programme. But it 
was none the less true that the Moslem masses as a whole were 
reverting vaguely to their old local and feudal leadership, which 
came to them in the guise of protectors of Moslem interests as 
against Hindus and others. 

The communal problem, as it was called, was one of adjusting 
the claims of the minorities and giving them sufficient protection 

381" 



from majority action. Minorities in India, it must be remembered, 
are not racial or national minorities as in Europe; they are religious 
minorities. Racially India is a patchwork and a curious mixture, 
but no racial questions have arisen or can arise in India. Religion 
transcends these racial differences, which fade into one another 
and are often hard to distinguish. Religious barriers are obviously 
not permanent, as conversions can take place from one religion 
to another, and a person changing his religion does not thereby 
lose his racial background or his cultural and linguistic inheritance. 
Latterly religion, in any real sense of the word, has played little 
part in Indian political conflicts, though the word is often enough 
used and exploited. Religious differences, as such, do not come in 
the way, for there is a great deal of mutual tolerance for them. In 
political matters, religion has been displaced by what is called 
communalism, a narrow group mentality basing itself on a religious 
community but in reality concerned with political power and 
patronage for the interested group. 

Repeated efforts were made by the Congress as well as other 
organizations to settle this communal problem with the consent 
of the various groups concerned. Some partial success was achieved 
but there was always a basic difficulty — the presence and policy 
of the British Government. Naturally the British did not favour any 
real settlement which would strengthen the political movement — 
now grown to mass proportions — against them. It was a triangle 
with the Government in a position to play off one side against the 
other, by giving special privileges. If the other parties had been 
wise enough, they could have overcome even this obstacle, but they 
lacked wisdom and foresight. Whenever a settlement was almost 
reached, the Government would take some step which upset the 
balance. 

There was no dispute about the usual provisions for minority 
protection, such as the League of Nations used to lay down. All 
those were agreed to and much more. Religion, culture, language, 
the fundamental rights of the individual and the group, were all 
to be protected and assured by basic constitutional provisions in 
a democratic constitution applying equally to all. Apart from this, 
the whole history of India was witness of the toleration and even 
encouragement of minorities and of different racial groups. There 
is nothing in Indian history to compare with the bitter religious 
feuds and persecutions that prevailed in Europe. So we did not have 
to go abroad for ideas of religious and cultural toleration; these 
were inherent in Indian life. In regard to individual and political 
rights and civil liberties, we were influenced by the ideas of the 
French and American revolutions, as also by the constitutional 
history ofthe British Parliament. Socialistic ideas, and the influence 
of the Soviet revolution, came in later to give a powerful economic 
turn to our thoughts. 

382" 



.Apart from full protection of all such rights ofthe individual 
and the group, it was common ground that every effort should 
be made by the state as well as by private agencies to remove all 
invidious social and customary barriers which came in the way of 
the full development ofthe individual as well as any group, and 
that educationally and economically backward classes should be 
helped to get rid of their disabilities as rapidly as possible. This 
applied especially to the depressed classes. It was further laid down 
that women should share in every way with men in the privileges 
of cit izenship. 

What remained? Fear that bigger numbers might politically 
overwhelm a minority. Normally speaking, numbers meant the 
peasantry and the workers, the masses of all religious faiths, who 
had long been exploited not only by foreign rule but by their own 
upper classes. Having assured the protection of religion and culture, 
etc., the major problems that were bound to come up were economic 
ones which had nothing to do with a person's religion. Class 
conflicts there might well be but not religious conflicts, except in 
so far as religion itself represented some vested interest. Neverthe- 
less people had grown so accustomed to think along lines of religious 
cleavage, and were continually being encouraged to do so by 
communal religious organizations and Government action, that 
the fear of the major religious community, that is the Hindus, 
swamping others continued to exercise the minds of many Moslems. 
It was not clear how even a majority could injure the interests of 
a huge minority like the Moslems, concentrated mostly in certain 
parts ofthe country, which would be autonomous. But fear is not 
reasonable. 

Separate electorates for Moslems (and later for other and smaller 
groups) were introduced and additional seats were given to them 
in excess of their population. But even excess in representation in 
a popular assembly could not convert a minority into a majority. 
Indeed separate electorates made matters a little worse, for the 
protected group for the majority electorate lost interest in it, and 
there was little occasion for mutual consideration and adjustment 
which inevitably takes place in a joint electorate when a candi- 
date has to appeal to every group. The Congress went further and 
declared that if there was any disagreement between the majority 
and a religious minority on any issue touching the special interests 
of that minority, it should not be decided by majority votes but 
should be referred to an impartial judicial tribunal, or even an 
international tribunal, whose decision should be final. 

It is difficult to conceive what greater protection could be given 
to any religious minority or group under any democratic system. 
It must be remembered also that in some provinces Moslems were 
actually in a majority and as the provinces were autonomous, 
the Moslem majority was more or less free to function as it chose, 

383" 



subject only to certain all-India considerations. In the central 
government Moslems would also inevitably have an important 
share. In the Moslem majority provinces this communal-religious 
problem was reversed, for there protection was demanded by the 
other minority groups (such as Hindu and Sikh) as against the 
Moslem majority. Thus in the Punjab there was a Moslem-Hindu- 
Sikh triangle. If there was a separate electorate for Moslems then 
others claimed special protection for themselves also. Having 
once introduced separate electorates there was no end to the 
ramifications and compartments and difficulties that arose from 
them. Obviously the granting of weightage in representation to 
one group could only be done at the cost of some other group, 
which had its representation reduced below its population figures. 
This produced a fantastic result, especially in Bengal, where, 
chiefly because of excessive European representation, the seats 
allotted to the general electorate were absurdly reduced. Thus 
the intelligentsia of Bengal, which had played such a notable part 
in Indian politics and the struggle for freedom, suddenly realized 
that it had a very weak position in the provincial legislature fixed 
and limited by statute. 

The Congress made many mistakes, but these were in rela- 
tively minor questions of approach or tactics. It was obvious 
that even for purely political reasons the Congress was eager and 
anxious to bring about a communal solution and thus remove a 
barrier to progress. There was no such eagerness in the purely 
communal organizations, for their chief reason for existence was 
to emphasize the particular demands of their respective groups, 
and this had led to a certain vested interest in the status quo. Though 
predominantly Hindu in membership, the Congress had large 
numbers of Moslems on its rolls, as well as all other religious 
groups like Sikhs, Christians, etc. It was thus forced to think in 
national terms. For it the dominating issue was national freedom 
and the establishment of an independent democratic state. It 
realized that in a vast and varied country like India, a simple type 
of democracy, giving full powers to a majority to curb or overrule 
minority groups in all matters, was not satisfactory or desirable, 
even if it could be established. It wanted unity, of course, and took 
it for granted, but it saw no reason why the richness and variety 
of India's cultural life should be regimented after a single pattern. 
Hence a large measure of autonomy was agreed to, as well as safe- 
guards for cultural growth and individual and group freedom. 

But on two fundamental questions the Congress stood firm: 
national unity and democracy. These were the foundations on 
which it had been founded and its very growth for half a century 
had emphasized these. The Congress organization is certainly 
one of the most democratic organizations that I know of any- 
where in the world, both in theory and practice. Through its 

384" 



tens of thousands of local committees spread out all over the 
country, it had trained the people in democratic ways and 
achieved striking success in this. The fact that a dominating and 
very popular personality like Gandhi was connected with it, did 
not lessen that essential democracy of the Congress. In times 
of crisis and struggle there was an inevitable tendency to look 
to the leader for guidance, as in every country, and such crises 
were frequent. Nothing is more absurd than to call the Congress 
an authoritarian organization, and it is interesting to note that 
such charges are usually made by high representatives of British 
authority, which is the essence of autocracy and authoritarianism 
in India. 

The British Government had also stood in the past, in theory 
at least, for Indian unity and democracy. It took pride in the 
fact that its rule had brought about the political unity of India, 
even though that unity was one of common subjection. It told 
us further that it was training us in the methods and processes 
of democracy. But curiously enough its policy has directly led 
to the denial of both unity and democracy. In August, 1940, 
the Congress Executive was compelled to declare that the policy 
of the British Government in India 'is a direct encouragement 
of and incitement to civil discord and strife.' Responsible spokes- 
men of the British Government began to tell us openly that perhaps 
the unity of India might have to be sacrificed in favour of some 
new arrangement, and that democracy was not suited to India. 
That was the only answer they had left to India's demand for 
independence and the establishment of a democratic state. That 
answer, incidentally, tells us that the British have failed, on their 
own showing, in the two major objectives they had set themselves 
in India. It took them a century and a half to realize this. 

We failed in finding a solution for the communal problem 
agreeable to all parties concerned, and certainly we must share 
the blame as we have to shoulder the consequences for this failure. 
But how does one get everybody to agree to any important proposi- 
tion or change? There are always feudal and reactionary elements 
who are opposed to all change, and there are those who want 
political, economic, and social change; in between these are varying 
groups. If a small group can exercise a veto on change then surely 
there can never be any change. When it is the policy of the ruling 
power to set up such groups and encourage them, even though 
they may represent an infinitesimal proportion of the population, 
then change can only come through successful revolution. It i3 
obvious that there are any number of feudal and reactionary 
groups in India, some native to the soil and some created and 
nurtured by the British. In numbers they may be small but they 
have the backing of the British power. 

Among the Moslems various organizations grew up, apart 

385" 



from the Moslem League. One of the older and more important 
ones was the Jamiat-ul-Ulema which consisted of divines and 
old-fashioned scholars from all over India. Traditional and con- 
servative in its general outlook, and necessarily religious, it was 
yet politically advanced and anti-imperialist. On the political 
plane it often co-operated with the Congress and many of its 
members were also members of the Congress and functioned 
through its organization. The Ahrar organization was founded 
later and was strongest in the Punjab. This represented chiefly 
lower middle-class Moslems and had considerable influence on 
the masses also in particular areas. The Momins (principally the 
weaver class), though large in numbers, were the poorest and 
most backward among the Moslems and were weak and badly 
organized. They were friendly to the Congress and opposed to 
the Moslem League. Being weak they avoided political action. 
In Bengal there was the Krishak (peasant) Sabha. Both the Jamiat- 
ul-Ulema and the Ahrars often co-operated with the Congress in 
its normal work and its more aggressive campaigns against the 
British Government, and suffered for it. The chief Moslem organiza- 
tion which has never come into conflict, other than verbal, with 
the British authorities, is the Moslem League, which throughout 
subsequent changes and developments and even when large num- 
bers joined it, never shed its upper class feudal leadership. 

There were also the Shia Moslems organized separately, but 
rather vaguely, chiefly for the purpose of making political demands. 
In the early days of Islam, in Arabia, a bitter dispute about the 
succession to the Khilafat led to a schism and two groups or sects 
emerged — the Sunnis and Shias. That quarrel perpetuated itself 
and still separates the two, though the schism ceased to have any 
political meaning. Sunnis are in a majority in India and in the 
Islamic countries, except in Iran, where Shias are in a majority. 
Religious conflicts have sometimes taken place between the two 
groups. The Shia organization in India as such kept apart and 
differed from the Moslem League. It was in favour ofjoint electo- 
rates for all. But there are many prominent Shias in the League. 

All these Moslem organizations, as well as some others (but 
not including the Moslem League) joined hands to promote the 
Azad Muslim Conference, which was a kind ofjoint Moslem 
front opposed to the Moslem League. This conference held a 
very representative and successful first session in Delhi in 1940. 

The chief Hjndu communal organization is the Hindu Maha- 
sabha, the counterpart of the Moslem League, but relatively 
less important. It is as aggressively communal as the League, 
but it tries to cover up its extreme narrowness of outlook by 
using some kind of vague national terminology, though its out- 
look is more revivalist than progressive. It is peculiarly unfor- 
tunate in some of its leaders who indulge in irresponsible and 
386" 



violent diatribes, as indeed do some of the Moslem League leaders 
also. This verbal warfare, indulged in on both sides, is a constant 
irritant. It takes the place of action. 

The Moslem League's communal attitude was often difficult 
and unreasonable in the past, but no less unreasonable was the 
attitude of the Hindu Mahasabha. The Hindu minorities in the 
Punjab and Sind, and the dominant Sikh group in the Punjab, 
were often obstructive and came in the way of a settlement. British 
policy was to encourage and emphasize these differences and to 
give importance to communal organizations as against the Congress. 

One test of the importance of a group or party, or at any rate 
of its hold on the people, is an election. During the general elec- 
tions in India in 1937 the Hindu Mahasabha failed completely; 
it was nowhere in the picture. The Moslem League did better 
but on the whole its showing was poor, especially in the pre- 
dominantly Moslem provinces. In the Punjab and Sind it failed 
completely, in Bengal it met with only partial success. In the 
North-West Frontier Province Congress formed a ministry later. 
In the Moslem minority provinces, the League met with greater 
success on the whole, but there were also independent Moslem 
groups as well as Moslems elected as Congressmen. 

Then began a remarkable campaign on behalf of the Moslem 
League against the Congress governments in the provinces and 
the Congress organization itself. Day after day it was repeated 
that the governments were committing 'atrocities' on the Moslems. 
The governments contained Moslem ministers also but they were 
not members of the Moslem League. What these 'atrocities' were it 
was not usually stated, or some petty local incidents, which had 
nothing to do with the government, were distorted and magnified. 
Some minor errors of some departments, which were soon rectified, 
became 'atrocities'. Sometimes entirely false and baseless charges 
were made. Even a report was issued, fantastic in its contents and 
having little to do with any facts. Congress governments invited 
those who made the charges to supply particulars for investigation 
or to come and inquire themselves with government help. No 
one took advantage of these offers. But the campaign continued 
unchecked. Early in 1940, soon after the resignation of the Con- 
gress ministers, the then Congress president, Dr. Rajendra Prasad 
wrote to Mr. M. A. Jinnah and also made a public statement 
inviting the Moslem League to place any charges against the 
Congress governments before the federal court of inquiry and 
decision. Mr. Jinnah declined this offer and referred to the possibi- 
lity of a Royal Commission being appointed for the purpose. 
There was no question of any such commission being appointed 
and only the British Government could do so. Some of the British 
governors, who had functioned during the regime of the Congress 
governments declared publicly that they had found nothing objec- 

387" 



tionable in the treatment of minorities. Under the Act of 1935 
they had been especially empowered to protect minorities if any 
such need arose. 

I had made a close study of nazi methods of propaganda Since 
Hitler's rise to power and I was astonished to find something 
very similar taking place in India. A year later, in 1938, when 
Czechoslovakia had to face the Sudetenland crisis, the nazi methods 
employed there were studied and referred to with approval by 
Moslem League spokesmen. A comparison was drawn between 
the position of Sudetenland Germans and Indian Moslems. 
Violence and incitements in speeches and in some newspapers 
became marked. A Congress Moslem minister was stabbed and 
there was no condemnation of this from any Moslem League leader; 
in fact it was condoned. Other exhibitions of violence frequently 
took place. 

I was terribly depressed by these developments and by the 
general lowering of the standards of public life. Violence, vul- 
garity, and irresponsibility were on the increase, and it appeared 
that they were approved of by responsible leaders of the Moslem 
League. I wrote to some of these leaders and begged them to 
check this tendency but with no success. So far as the Congress 
governments were concerned, it was obviously to their interest 
to win over every minority or other group and they tried hard 
to do so. Indeed complaints arose from some quarters that they 
were showing undue favour to the Moslems at the expense of 
other groups. But it was not a question of a particular griev- 
ance which could be remedied, or a reasonable consideration of 
any matter. There was a regular campaign on the part of members 
or sympathisers of the Moslem League to make the Moslem masses 
believe that something terrible was happening and that the Congress 
was to blame. What that terrible thing was nobody seemed to 
know. But surely there must be something behind all this shouting 
and cursing, if not here then elsewhere. During by-elections the 
cry raised was 'Islam in danger' and voters were asked to take 
their oaths on the holy book to vote for the Moslem League can- 
didate. 

All this had an undoubted effect on the Moslem masses. And 
yet it is surprising how many resisted it. The League won most 
by-elections, lost some; even when they won, there was a sub- 
stantial minority of Moslem voters who went against them, being 
influenced more by the Congress agrarian programme. But for 
the first time in its history the Moslem League got a mass back- 
ing and began to develop into a mass organization. Much as I 
regretted what was happening, I welcomed this development in 
a way as I thought that it might lead ultimately to a change 
in the feudal leadership and that more progressive elements 
would come forward. The real difficulty thus far had been the 

388" 



extreme political and social backwardness of the Moslems which 
made them liable to exploitation by reactionary leaders. 

Mr. M. A. Jinnah himself was more advanced than most of 
his colleagues of the Moslem League. Indeed he stood head and 
shoulders above them and had therefore become the indispens- 
able leader. From public platforms he confessed his great dis- 
satisfaction with the opportunism, and sometimes even worse 
failings, of his colleagues. He knew well that a great part of 
the advanced, selfless, and courageous element among the Mos- 
lems had joined and worked with the Congress. And yet some 
destiny or course of events had thrown him among the very 
people for whom he had no respect. He was their leader but 
he could only keep them together by becoming himself a prisoner 
to their reactionary ideologies. Not that he was an unwilling 
prisoner, so far as the ideologies were concerned, for despite his 
external modernism, he belonged to an older generation which 
was hardly aware of modern political thought or development. Of 
economics, which overshadow the world to-day, he appeared to 
be entirely ignorant. The extraordinary occurrenqes that had 
taken place all over the world since World War I had apparently 
had no effect on him. He had left the Congress when the organiza- 
tion had taken a political leap forward. The gap had widened as 
the Congress developed an economic and mass outlook. But Mr. 
Jinnah seemed to have remained ideologically in that identical 
place where he stood a generation ago, or rather he had gone 
further back, for now he condemned both India's unity and demo- 
cracy. 'They would not live,' he has stated, 'under any system 
of government that was based on the nonsensical notion of western 
democracy.' It took him a long time to realize that what he 
had stood for throughout a fairly long life was nonsensical. 

Mr. Jinnah is a lone figure even in the Moslem League, keep- 
ing apart from his closest co-workers, widely but distantly 
respected, more feared than liked. About his ability as a poli- 
tician there is no doubt, but somehow that ability is tied up with 
the peculiar conditions of British rule in India to-day. He shines 
as a lawyer-politician, as a tactician, as one who thinks that he holds 
the balance between nationalist India and the British power. If 
conditions were different and he had to face real problems, politi- 
cal, and economic, it is difficult to say how far his ability would 
carry him. Perhaps he is himself doubtful of this, although he has 
no small opinion of himself. This may be an explanation for that 
subconscious urge in him against change, to keep things going as they 
are, and to avoid discussion and the calm consideration of problems 
with people who do not wholly agree with him. He fits into this 
present pattern; whether he or anybody else will fit into a new 
pattern it is difficult to say. What passion moves him, what objec- 
tive does he strive for? Or is it that he has no dominating passion 

389" 



except the pleasure he has in playing a fascinating political game of 
chess in which he often has an opportunity to say 'check'? He 
seems to have a hatred for the Congress which has grown with 
the years. His aversions and dislikes are obvious, but what does 
he like? With all his strength and tenacity, he is a strangely 
negative person whose appropriate symbol might well be a 'no'. 
Hence all attempts to understand his positive aspect fail and one 
cannot come to grips with it. 

Since British rule came to India, Moslems have produced few 
outstanding figures of the modern type. They have produced 
some remarkable men but, as a rule, these represented the conti- 
nuation of the old culture and tradition and did not easily fit 
in with modern developments. This incapacity to march with 
the changing times and adapt themselves culturally and other- 
wise to a new environment was not of course due to any innate 
failing. It derived from certain historical causes, from the delay 
in the development of a new industrial middle class, and the 
excessively feudal background of the Moslems, which blocked 
up avenues of development and prevented the release of talent. 
In Bengal the backwardness of the Moslems was most marked, 
but this was obviously due to two causes: the destruction of 
their upper classes during the early days of British rule, and 
the fact that the vast majority were converts from the lowest 
class of Hindus, who had long been denied opportunities of 
growth and progress. In northern India the cultured upper-class 
Moslems were tied up with their old traditional ways as well as 
the land system. In recent years there has been a marked change 
and a fairly rapid development of a new middle class among 
Indian Moslems, but even now they lag far behind Hindus and 
others in science and industry . The Hindus are backward also, 
sometimes even more hide-bound and tied up with traditional 
ways of thought and practice than the Moslems, but nevertheless 
they have produced some very eminent men in science, industry, 
and other fields. The small Parsee community has also produced 
outstanding leaders of modern industry. Mr. Jinnah's family, 
it is interesting to note, was originally Hindu. 

Both among Hindus and Moslems a good deal of talent and 
ability has in the past gone into government service, as that was 
the most attractive avenue open. With the growth of the political 
movement for freedom, that attraction became less, and able, 
earnest, and courageous persons were drawn into the Congress. 
Thus many of the best types of Moslems came in to it. In more 
recent years young Moslems joined the socialist and communist 
parties also. Apart from all these ardent and progressive persons, 
Moslems were very poor in the quality of their leaders and were 
inclined to look to government service alone for advancement. 
Mr. Jinnah was a different type. He was able, tenacious, and 

390" 



not open to the lure of office, wlych had been such a failing of so 
many others. His position in the Moslem League, therefore, 
became unique and he was able to command the respect which 
was denied to many others prominent in the League. Unfortunately 
his tenacity prevented him from opening his mind to any new 
ideas, and his unquestioned hold on his own organization made 
him intolerant both of his own dissidents and of other organizations. 
He became the Moslem League. But a question arose: As the League 
was becoming a mass organization, how long could this feudal 
leadership with outmoded ideas continue? 

When I was Congress president, I wrote to Mr. Jinnah on 
several occasions and requested him to tell us exactly what he 
would like lis to do. I asked him what the League wanted and 
what its definite objectives were. I also wanted to know what 
the grievances of the League were against the Congress govern- 
ments. The idea was that we might clarify matters by corres- 
pondence and then discuss personally the important points that 
had arisen in it. Mr. Jinnah sent me long replies but failed to 
enlighten me. It was extraordinary how he avoided telling me, 
or anyone else, exactly what he wanted or what the grievances 
of the League were. Repeatedly we exchanged letters and yet 
always there was the same vagueness and inconclusiveness and 
I could get nothing definite. This surprised me very much and 
made me feel a little helpless. It seemed as if Mr. Jinnah did 
not want to commit himself in any way and was not at all eager 
for a settlement. 

Subsequently Gandhiji and others amongst us met Mr. Jinnah, 
several times. They talked for hours but never got beyond a 
preliminary stage. Our proposal was that representatives of the 
Congress and the League should meet and discuss all their mutual 
problems. Mr. Jinnah said that this could only be done after we 
recognized publicly that the Moslem League was the sole representa- 
tive organization of the Moslems of India, and the Congress should 
consider itself a purely Hindu organization. This created an 
obvious difficulty. We recognized of course the importance of 
the League and because of that we had approached it. But how 
could we ignore many other Moslem organizations in the country, 
some closely associated with us? Also there were large numbers 
of Moslems in the Congress itself and in our highest executive. To 
admit Mr Jinnah's claim meant in effect to push out our old 
Moslem colleagues from the Congress "and declare that the Con- 
gress was not open to them. It was to change the fundamental 
character of the Congress, and from a national organization, open 
to all, convert it into a communal body. That was inconceivable 
for us. If the Congress had not already been there, we would have 
had to build up a new national organization open to every Indian. 

We could not understand Mr. Jinnah's insistence on this and 

391" 



refusal to discuss any other matter. Again we could only con- 
clude that he did not want any settlement, nor did he want to 
commit himself in any way. He was satisfied in letting matters 
drift and in expecting that he could get more out of the British 
Government this way. 

Mr. Jinnah's demand was based on a new theory he had recently 
propounded — that India consisted of two nations, Hindu and 
Moslem. Why only two I do not know, for if nationality was 
based on religion, then there were many nations in India. Of two 
brothers one may be a Hindu, another a Moslem; they would 
belong to two different nations. These two nations existed in 
varying proportions in most of the villages of India. They were 
nations which had no boundaries; they overlapped. A Bengali 
Moslem and a Bengali Hindu living together, speaking the same 
language, and having much the same traditions and customs, 
belonged to different nations. All this was very difficult to grasp; 
it seemed a reversion to some medieval theory. What a nation is 
it is difficult to define. Possibly the essential characteristic of 
national consciousness is a sense of belonging together and of 
together facing the rest of mankind. How far that is present in 
India as a whole may be a debatable point. It may even be said 
that India developed in the past as a multi-national state and 
gradually acquired a national consciousness. But all these are 
theoretical abstractions which hardly concern us. To-day the 
most powerful states are multi-national, but at the same time 
developing a national consciousness, like the U.S.A. or the U.S.S.R. 

From Mr. Jinnah's two-nation theory developed the concep- 
tion of Pakistan, or splitting up of India. That, of course, did 
not solve the problem of the 'two nations,' for they were all over 
the place. But that gave body to a metaphysical conception. 
This again gave rise to a passionate reaction among many in 
favour of the unity of India. Ordinarily national unity is taken 
for granted. Only when it is challenged or attacked, or attempts 
are made to disrupt it, is unity really appreciated, and a posi- 
tive reaction to maintain it takes place. Thus sometimes attempts 
at disruption actually help to weld that unity. 

There was a fundamental difference between the outlook of 
the Congress and that of the religious-communal organizations. 
Of the latter the chief were the Moslem League and its Hindu 
counterpart, the Hindu Mahasabha. These communal organiza- 
tions, while in theory standing for India's independence, were 
more interested in claiming protection and special privileges for 
their respective groups. They had thus inevitably to look to the 
British Government for such privileges, and this led them to avoid 
conflict with it. The Congress outlook was so tied up with India's 
freedom as a united nation that everything else was secondary, 
and this meant ceaseless conflict or friction with the British power. 

392" 



Indian nationalism, as represented by the Congress, opposed 
British imperialism. The Congress had further developed agrarian, 
economic, and social programmes. Neither the Moslem League 
nor the Hindu Mahasabha had ever considered any such question 
or attempted to frame a programme. Socialists and communists 
were,' of course, intensely interested in such matters and had their 
own programmes, which they tried to push in the Congress as well 
as outside. 

There was yet another marked difference between Congress 
policy and work and those of the religious-communal organiza- 
tions. Quite apart from its agitational side and its legislative 
activity, when such existed, the Congress laid the greatest stress 
on certain constructive activities among the masses. These activi- 
ties consisted in organizing and developing cottage industries, 
in raising the depressed classes, and later in the spread of basic 
education. Village work also included sanitation and some simple 
forms of medical relief. Separate organizations for carrying on 
these activities were created by the Congress, which functioned 
apart from the political plane, and which absorbed thousands of 
whole-time workers and a much larger number of part-time 
helpers. This quiet non-political, constructive work was carried 
on even when political activities were at a low ebb; but even this 
was suppressed by Government when there was open conflict 
with the Congress. The economic value of some of these activities 
was questioned by a few people, but there could be no doubt of 
their social importance. They trained a large body of whole-time 
workers in intimate touch with the masses, and produced a spirit of 
self-help and self-reliance among the people. Congressmen and 
women also played an important part in trade union and agrarian 
organizations, actually building up many of these. The largest and 
best-organized trade union — that of the Ahmedabad textile 
industry — was started by Congressmen and worked in close co- 
operation with them. 

All these activities gave a solid background to Congress work, 
which was completely lacking in the religious-communal organi- 
zations. These latter functioned on the agitational plane only 
by fits and starts, or during elections. In them also was lacking 
that ever-present sense of risk and personal danger from govern- 
ment action which Congressmen had almost always to face. Thus, 
there was a far greater tendency for careerists and opportunists 
to enter these organizations. The two Moslem organizations, 
the Ahrars and the Jamiat-ul-Ulema, however, suffered greatly 
from governmental repression because politically they often 
followed the same line as the Congress. 

The Congress represented not only the nationalist urge of India, 
which had grown with the growth of the new bourgeoisie, but also, 
to a large extent, proletarian urges for social change. In particular, 

393" 



it stood for revolutionary agrarian changes. This sometimes pro- 
duced inner conflicts within the Congress, and the landlord class 
and the big industrialists, though often nationalistic, kept aloof 
from it for fear of socialistic changes. Within the Congress, socialists 
and communists found a place and could influence Congress policy. 
The communal organizations, whether Hindu or Moslem, were 
closely associated with the feudal and conservative elements and 
were opposed to any revolutionary social change. The real conflict 
had, therefore, nothing to do with religion, though religion often 
masked the issue, but was essentially between those who stood for a 
nationalist — democratic — socially revolutionary policy and those 
who were concerned with preserving the relics of a feudal regime. 
In a crisis, the latter inevitably depend upon foreign support which 
is interested in preserving the status quo. 

The beginning of World War II brought an internal crisis 
which resulted in the resignation of the Congress governments 
in the provinces. Before this occurred, however, the Congress 
made another attempt to approach Mr. M. A. Jinnah and the 
Moslem League. Mr. Jinnah was invited to attend the first meet- 
ing of the Congress Executive after the commencement of the 
war. He was unable to join us. We met him later and tried to 
evolve a common policy in view of the world crisis. Not much 
progress was made but nevertheless we decided to continue our 
talks. Meanwhile the Congress governments resigned on the 
political issue which had nothing to do with the Moslem League 
and the communal problem. Mr. Jinnah, however, chose that 
moment for a fierce attack on the Congress and a call on his 
League for the observance of a 'Day of Deliverance' from Con- 
gress rule in the provinces. He followed this up by very un- 
becoming remarks on Nationalist Moslems in the Congress and 
especially on the Congress president, Maulana Abul Kalam 
Azad, who was greatly respected among Hindus and Moslems 
alike. The 'Day of Deliverance' was rather a flop and counter 
demonstrations among Moslems took place in some parts of India. 
But it added to bitterness and confirmed the conviction that Mr. 
Jinnah and the Moslem League under his leadership had no 
intention whatever of coming to any settlement with the Congress, 
or of advancing the cause of Indian freedom. They preferred the' 
existing situation.* 



* After I had finished writing this book, I read a book by a Canadian scholar, Wilfrid 
Cantwell Smith, who has spent some years in Egypt and India. This book, which is 
called 'Modern Islam in India — A Social Analysis, (Lahore, 1943), is an able analysis 
and careful survey of the development of ideas among Indian Moslems since the Indian 
Mutiny of 1857. He deals with the progressive and reactionary movements from Sir 
Syed Ahmad Khan 's time onwards, and the different phases of the Moslem League. 

394" 



The National Planning Committee 

Towards the end of 1938 a National Planning Committee was 
constituted at the instance of the Congress. It consisted of fifteen 
members plus representatives of provincial governments and 
such Indian states as chose to collaborate with us. Among the 
members were well-known industrialists, financiers, economists, 
professors, scientists, as well as representatives of the Trade 
Union Congress and the Village Industries Association. The 
non-Congress Provincial Governments (Bengal, Punjab' and 
Sind), as well as some of the major states (Hyderabad, Mysore, 
Baroda, Travancore, Bhopal) co-operated with this committee. 
In a sense it was a remarkably representative committee cutting 
across political boundaries as well as the high barrier between 
official and non-official India — except for the fact that the Gov- 
ernment of India was not represented and took up a non-co- 
operative attitude. Hard-headed big business was there as well 
as people who are called idealists and doctrinaires, and socialists 
and near-communists. Experts and directors of industries came 
from provincial governments and states. 

It was a strange assortment of different types and it was not 
clear how such an odd mixture would work. I accepted the chair- 
manship of the committee not without hesitation and misgiving; 
the work was after my own heart and I could not keep out of it. 

Difficulties faced us at every turn. There were not enough 
data for real planning and few statistics were av lilable. The 
Government of India was not helpful. Even the provincial gov- 
ernments, though friendly and co-operative, did not seem to be 
particularly keen on all-India planning and took only a distant 
interest in our work. They were far too busy with their own problems 
and troubles. Important elements in the Congress, under whose 
auspices the committee had come into existence, rather looked 
upon it as an unwanted child, not knowing how it would grow up 
and rather suspicious of its future activities. Big business was 
definitely apprehensive and critical, and probably joined up 
because it felt that it could look after its interests better from inside 
the committee than from outside. 

It was obvious also that any comprehensive planning could 
only take place under a free national government, strong enough 
and popular enough to be in a position to introduce fundamental 
changes in the social and economic structure. Thus the attainment 
of national freedom and the elimination of foreign control became 
an essential pre-requisite for planning. There were many other 
obstacles — our social backwardness, customs, traditional outlook, 
etc. — but they had in any event to be faced. Planning thus was 
not so much for the present, as for an unascertained future, and 
there was an air of unreality about it. Yet it had to be based on 

395" 



the present and we hoped that this future was not a distant one. 
If we could collect the available material, co-ordinate it, and draw 
up blue-prints, we would prepare the ground for the real effective 
future planning, meanwhile indicating to provincial governments 
and states the lines on which they should proceed and develop 
their resources. The attempt to plan and to see the various national 
activities — economic, social, cultural — fitting into each other, 
had also a highly educative value for ourselves and the general 
public. It made the people come out of their narrow grooves of 
thought and action, to think of problems in relation to one another, 
and develop to some extent at least a wider co-operative outlook. 

The original idea behind the Planning Committee had been 
to further industrialization — 'the problems of poverty and un- 
employment, of national defence and of economic regeneration 
in general cannot be solved without industrialization. As a step 
towards such industrialization, a comprehensive scheme of national 
planning should be formulated. This scheme should provide for 
the development of heavy key industries, medium scale industries, 

and cottage industries ' But no planning could possibly ignore 

agriculture, which was the main stay of the people; equally impor- 
tant were the social services. So one thing led to another and it was 
impossible to isolate anything or to progress in one direction without 
corresponding progress in another. The more we thought of this 
planning business, the vaster it grew in its sweep and range till 
it seemed to embrace almost every activity. That did not mean 
we intended regulating and regimenting everything, but we had 
to keep almost everything in view even in deciding about one 
particular sector of the plan. The fascination of this work grew 
upon me and, I think, upon the other members of our committee 
also. But at the same time certain vagueness and indefiniteness 
crept in; instead of concentrating on some major aspects of the 
plan we tended to become diffuse. This also led to delay in the 
work of many of our sub-committees which lacked the sense of 
urgency and ofworking for a definite objective within a stated time. 

Constituted as we were, it was not easy for all of us to agree 
to any basic social policy or principles underlying social organi- 
zation. Any attempt to discuss these principles in the abstract 
was bound to lead to fundamental differences of approach at 
the outset and possibly to a splitting up of the committee. Not 
to have such a guiding policy was a serious drawback, yet there 
was no help for it. We decided to consider the general problem 
of planning as well as each individual problem concretely and 
not in the abstract, and allow principles to develop out of such 
considerations. Broadly speaking, there were two approaches: 
the socialist one aiming at the elimination of the profit motive 
and emphasizing the importance of equitable distribution, and 
the big business one striving to retain free enterprise and the 

396" 



profit motive as far as possible, and laying greater stress on 
production. There was also a difference in outlook between 
those who favoured a rapid growth of heavy industry and others 
who wanted greater attention to be paid to the development of 
village and cottage industries, thus absorbing the vast number 
of the unemployed and partially employed. Ultimately there 
were bound to be differences in the final conclusions. It did 
not very much matter even if there were two or more reports, 
provided that all the available facts were collected and co- 
ordinated, the common ground mapped out, and the divergencies 
indicated. When the time came for giving effect to the Plan, 
the then existing democratic government would have to choose 
what basic policy to adopt. Meanwhile a great deal of essential 
preparation would have been made and the various aspects of 
the problem placed before the public and the various provincial 
and state governments. 

Obviously we could not consider any problem, much less plan, 
without some definite aim and social objective. That aim was 
declared to be to ensure an adequate standard of living for the 
masses, in other words, to get rid of the appalling poverty of the 
people. The irreducible minimum, in terms of money, had been 
estimated by economists at figures varying from Rs. 15 to Rs. 25 
per capita per month. (These are all pre-war figures.) Compared 
to western standards this was very low, and yet it meant an enor- 
mous increase in existing standards in India. An approximate 
estimate of the average annual income per capita was Rjs. 65. This 
included the rich and the poor, the town-dweller, and the villager. 
In view of the great gulf between the rich and the poor and the 
concentration of wealth in the hands of a few, the average income 
of the villager was estimated to be far less, probably about Rs. 30 
per capita per annum. These figures bring home the terrible poverty 
of the people and the destitute condition of the masses. There was 
lack of food, of clothing, of housing and of every other essential 
requirement of human existence. To remove this lack and ensure 
an irreducible minimum standard for everybody the national in- 
come had to be greatly increased, and in addition to this increased 
production there had to be a more equitable distribution of wealth. 
We calculated that a really progressive standard of living would 
necessitate the increase of the national wealth by 500 or 600 per 
cent. That was, however, too big a jump for us, and we aimed at 
a 200 to 300 per cent increase within ten years. 

We fixed a ten-year period for the plan, with control figures 
for different periods and different sectors of economic life. 

Certain objective tests were also suggested: 

(1) The improvement of nutrition — a balanced diet having a 
calorific value of 2,400 to 2,800 units for an adult worker. 

(2) Improvement in clothing from the then consumption of 

397 



about fifteen yards to at least thirty yards per capita per annum. 

(3) Housing standards to reach at least 100 square feet per 
capita. 
Further, certain indices of progress had to be kept in mind: 

(i) Increase in agricultural production, (ii) Increase in indus- 
trial production, (iii) Diminution of unemployment, (iv) Increase 
in per capita income, (v) Liquidation of illiteracy, (vi) Increase in 
public utility services, (vii) Provision of medical aid on the basis 
of one unit for 1,000 population, (viii) Increase in the average 
expectation of life. 

The objective for the country as a whole was the attainment, 
as far as possible, of national self-sufficiency. International trade 
was certainly not excluded, but we were anxious to avoid being 
drawn into the whirlpool of economic imperialism. We neither 
wanted to be victims of an imperialist power nor to develop such 
tendencies ourselves. The first charge on the country's produce 
should be to meet the domestic needs of food, raw materials, and 
manufactured goods. Surplus production would not be dumped 
abroad but used in exchange for such commodities as we might 
require. To base our national economy on export markets might 
lead to conflicts with other nations and to sudden upsets when 
those markets were closed to us. 

So, though we did not start with a well-defined social theory, 
our social objectives were clear enough and afforded a common 
basis for planning. The very essence of this planning was a large 
measure of regulation and co-ordination. Thus, while free enter- 
prise was not ruled out as such, its scope was severely restricted. 
In regard to defence industries it was decided that they must be 
owned and controlled by the state. Regarding other key industries, 
the majority were of opinion that they should be state-owned, 
but a substantial minority of the committee considered that state 
control would be sufficient. Such control, however, of these industries 
had to be rigid. Public utilities, it was also decided, should be 
owned by some organ of the state — either the Central Government, 
provincial government, or a local board. It was suggested that 
something of the nature of the London Transport Board might 
control public utilities. In regard to other important and vital 
industries, no special rule was laid down but it was made clear 
that the very nature of planning required control in some measure, 
which might vary with the industry. 

In regard to the agency in state-owned industries it was sug- 
gested that as a general rule an autonomous public trust would 
be suitable. Such a trust would ensure public ownership and control 
and at the same time avoid the difficulties and inefficiency which 
sometimes creep in under direct democratic control. Co-operative 
ownership and control were also suggested for industries. Any 
planning would involve a close scrutiny of the development of 

398" 



industry in all its branches and a periodical survey of the progress 
made. It would mean also the training of the technical staffs 
necessary for the further expansion of industry, and the state might 
call upon industries to train such staffs. 

The general principles governing land policy were laid down: 
'Agricultural land, mines, quarries, rivers, and forests are forms 
of national wealth, ownership of which must vest absolutely in 
the people of India collectively.' The co-operative principle should 
be applied to the exploitation of land by developing collective and 
co-operative farms. It was not proposed, however, to rule out 
peasant farming in small holdings, to begin with at any rate, but 
no intermediaries of the type of talukdars, zamindars, etc., should 
be recognized after the transition period was over. The rights and 
title possessed by these classes should be progressively bought out. 
Collective farms were to be started immediately by the state on 
culturable waste land. Co-operative farming could be combined 
either with individual or joint ownership. A certain latitude was 
allowed for various types to develop so that, with greater experi- 
ence, particular types might be encouraged more than others. 

We, or some of us at any rate, hoped to evolve a socialized 
system of credit. If banks, insurance, etc., were not to be nation- 
alized they should at least be under the control of the state, thus 
leading to a state regulation of capital and credit. It was also desir- 
able to control the export and import trade. By these various means 
a considerable measure of state control would be established in 
regard to land as well as in industry as a whole, though varying in 
particular instances, and allowing private initiative to continue in 
a restricted sphere. 

Thus, through the consideration of special problems, we gradu- 
ally developed our social objectives and policy. There were gaps 
in them and occasional vagueness and even some contradiction; 
it was far from a perfect scheme in theory. But I was agreeably 
surprised at the large measure of unanimity achieved by us in spite 
of the incongruous elements in our Committee. The big business 
element was the largest single group and its outlook on many 
matters, especially financial and commercial, was definitely 
conservative. Yet the urge for rapid progress, and the conviction 
that only thus could we solve our problems of poverty and unem- 
ployment, were so great that all of us were forced out ofour grooves 
and compelled to think on new lines. We had avoided a theoretical 
approach, and as each practical problem was viewed in its larger 
context, it led us inevitably in a particular direction. To me the 
spirit of co-operation of the members of the Planning Committee 
was peculiarly soothing and gratifying, for I found it a pleasant 
contrast to the squabbles and conflicts of politics. We knew our 
differences and yet we tried and often succeeded, after discussing 
every point of view, in arriving at an integrated conclusion 

399" 



which was accepted by all of us, or most of us. 

Constituted as we were, not only in our Committee but in the 
larger field of India, we could not then plan for socialism as such. 
Yet it became clear to me that our plan, as it developed, was in- 
evitably leading us towards establishing some of the fundamentals 
of the socialist structure. It was limiting the acquisitive factor in 
society, removing many of the barriers to growth, and thus leading 
to a rapidly expanding social structure. It was based on planning 
for the benefit cf the common man, raising his standards greatly, 
giving him opportunities of growth, and releasing an enormous 
amount of latent talent and capacity. And all this was to be attempt- 
ed in the context of democratic freedom and with a large measure 
of co-operation of some at least of the groups who were normally 
opposed to socialistic doctrine. That co-operation seemed to me 
worth while even if it involved toning down or weakening the plan 
in some respects. Probably I was too optimistic. But so long as a 
big step in the right direction was taken, I felt that the very dyna- 
mics involved in the process of change would facilitate further 
adaptation and progress. If conflict was inevitable, it had to be 
faced; but if it could be avoided or minimized that was an obvious 
gain. Especially as in the political sphere there was conflict enough 
for us and, in the future, there might well be unstable conditions. 
A general consent for a plan was thus of great value. It was easy 
enough to draw up blue-prints based on some idealist conception. 
It was much more difficult to get behind them that measure of 
general consent and approval which was essential for the satis- 
factory working of any plan. 

Planning, though inevitably bringing about a great deal of control 
and co-ordination and interfering in some measure with individual 
freedom, would, as a matter of fact, in the context of India to-day, 
lead to a vast increase of freedom. We have very little freedom to 
lose. We have only to gain freedom. If we adhered to the democratic 
state structure and encouraged co-operative enterprises, many 
of the dangers of regimentation and concentration of power might 
be avoided. 

At our first sessions we had framed a formidable questionnaire 
which was issued to various governments and public bodies, 
universities, chambers of commerce, trade unions, research institutes, 
etc. Twenty-nine sub-committees were also appointed to investigate 
and report on specific problems. Eight of these sub-committees 
were for agricultural problems; several were for industry; five for 
commerce and finance; two for transport; two for education; 
two for public welfare; two for demographic relations; and one 
for women's role in planned economy. There were in all about 
350 members of these sub-committees, some of them overlapping. 
Most of them were specialists or experts in their subjects — business- 
men, government, state, and municipal employees, university profes- 

400" 



sors or lecturers, technicians, scientists, trade unionists, and police A 
men. We collected in this way much of the talent available in the 
country. The only persons who were not permitted to co-operate 
with us, even when they were personally desirous of doing so, 
were the officials and employees of the Government of India. To 
have so many persons associated in our work was helpful in many 
ways. We had the advantage of their special knowledge and experi- 
ence, and they were led to think of their special subject in relation 
to the wider problem. It also led to a greater interest in planning 
all over the country. But these numbers were disadvantageous also, 
for there was inevitable delay when busy people spread out all over 
a vast country had to meet repeatedly. 

I was heartened to come into touch with so much ability and 
earnestness in all departments of national activity, and these 
contacts added to my own education greatly. Our method of work 
was to have an interim report from each sub-committee, which 
the planning committee considered, approving of it or partly 
criticizing it, and then sending it back with its remarks to the 
sub-committee. A final report was then submitted out of which 
arose our decisions on that particular subject. An attempt was 
being made continually to co-ordinate the decisions on each sub- 
ject with those arrived at on other subjects. When all the final 
reports had been thus considered and disposed of, the Planning 
Committee was to review the whole problem in its vastness and 
intricacy and evolve its own comprehensive report, to which the 
sub-committees' reports would be added as appendices. As a matter 
of fact that final report was gradually taking shape in the course 
of our consideration of the sub-committees' reports. 

There were irritating delays, chiefly due to some of the sub- 
committees not keeping to the time-table fixed for them, but on the 
whole we made good progress and got through an enormous amount 
of work. Two interesting decisions were made in connection with 
education. We suggested that definite norms of physical fitness 
for boys and girls be laid down for every stage of education. We 
also suggested establishment of a system of compulsory social or 
labour service, so as to make every young man and woman contri- 
bute one year of his or her life, between the ages of eighteen and 
twenty-two, to national utility, including agriculture, industry, 
public utilities, and public works of all kinds. No exemption was 
to be allowed except for physical or mental disability. 

When World War II started in September, 1939, it was sug- 
gested that the National Planning Committee should suspend its 
activities. In November the Congress governments in the provinces 
resigned and this added to our difficulties, for under the absolute 
rule of the Governors in the provinces no interest was taken in our 
work. Business men were busier than ever making money out of 
war requirements and were not so much interested in planning. 

401" 



The situation was changing from day to day. We decided, however, 
to continue and felt that the war made this even more necessary. 
It was bound to result in further industrialization, and the work 
we had already done and were engaged in doing could be of great 
help in this process. We were dealing then with our sub-com- 
mittees' reports on engineering industries, transport, chemical 
industries, and manufacturing industries, all of the highest import- 
ance from the point of view of the war. But the Government was 
not interested in our work and in fact viewed it with great dis- 
favour. During the early months of the war — the so-called 'phoney' 
period — their policy was not to encourage the growth of Indian 
industry. Afterwards, the pressure of events forced them to buy 
many of their requirements in India, but even so they disapproved 
of any heavy industries being started there. Disapproval meant 
virtual prohibition, for no machinery could be imported without 
government sanction. 

The Planning Committee continued its work and had nearly 
finished dealing with its sub-committees' reports. We were to finish 
what little remained of this work and then proceed to the consi- 
deration of our own comprehensive report. I was, however, arrested 
in October, 1940, and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment. 
Several other members of the Planning Committee and its sub- 
committees were also arrested and sentenced. I was anxious that 
the Planning Committee should continue to function and requested 
my colleagues outside to do so. But they were not willing to work in 
the Committee in my absence. I tried to get the Planning Committee's 
papers and reports in prison so that I might study them and prepare 
a draft report. The Government of India intervened and stopped 
this. No such papers were allowed to reach me, nor were inter- 
views on the subject permitted. 

So the National Planning Committee languished, while I spent 
my days injail. All the work we had done which, though incomplete, 
could be used to great advantage for war purposes, remained in 
the pigeon-holes of our office. I was released in December, 1941, 
and was out of prison for some months. But this period was a hectic 
one for me, as it was for others. All manner of new developments 
had taken place, the Pacific war was on, India was threatened 
with invasion, and it was not possible then to pick up the old 
threads and continue the unfinished work of the planning com- 
mittee unless the political situation cleared up. And then I re- 
turned to prison. 

The Congress and Industry: 
Big Industry versus Cottage Industry 

The Congress, under Gandhiji's leadership, had long championed 
the revival of village industries, especially hand-spinning and 

402" 



hand-weaving. At no time, however, had the Congress been opposed 
to the development of big industries, and whenever it had the 
chance, in the legislatures or elsewhere, it had encouraged this 
development. Congress provincial governments were eager to do 
so. In the twenties when the Tata Steel and Iron Works were in 
difficulties, it was largely due to the insistence of the Congress 
party in the Central Legislature that government aid was given to 
help to tide over a critical period. The development of Indian 
shipbuilding and shipping services had long been a sore point of 
conflict between nationalist opinion and government. The Congress, 
as all other sections of Indian opinion, was anxious that every 
assistance should be given to Indian shipping; the government was 
equally anxious to protect the vested interests of powerful British 
shipping companies. Indian shipping was thus prevented from 
growing by official discrimination against it, although it had both 
capital and technical and managerial ability at its disposal. 
This kind of discrimination worked all along the line whenever 
any British industrial, commercial, or financial interests were 
concerned. 

That huge combine, the Imperial Chemical Industries, has 
been repeatedly favoured at the expenses of Indian industry. 
Some years ago it was given a long term lease for the exploita- 
tion of the minerals, etc., of the Punjab. The terms of this agree- 
ment were, so far as I know, not disclosed, presumably because 
it was not considered 'in the public interest' to do so. 

The Congress provincial governments were anxious to develop 
a power alcohol industry. This was desirable from many points 
ofview, but there was an additional reason in the United Provinces 
and Bihar. The large numbers of sugar factories there were produc- 
ing as a by-product a vast quantity of molasses which was being 
treated as waste material. It was proposed to utilise this for the 
production of power alcohol. The process was simple, there was no, 
difficulty, except one — the interests of the Shell and Burma Oil 
combine were affected. The Government of India championed 
these interests and refused to permit the manufacture of power 
alcohol. It was only in the third year of the present war, after 
Burma fell and the supplies of oil and petrol were cut off, that the 
realization came that power alcohol was necessary and must be 
produced in India. The American Grady Committee strongly 
urged this in 1942. 

The Congress has thus always been in favour of the industria- 
lization of India and, at the same time, has emphasized the deve- 
lopment of cottage industries and worked for this. Is there a con- 
flict between these two approaches? Possibly there is a difference 
in emphasis, a realization of certain human and economic factors 
which were overlooked previously in India. Indian industrialists 
and the politicians who supported them thought too much in terms 

403" 



of the nineteenth century development of capitalist industry in 
Europe and ignored many of the evil consequences that were 
obvious in the twentieth century. In India, because normal progress 
had been arrested for 100 years those consequences were likely to 
be more far-reaching. The kind of medium-scale industries that 
were being started in India, under the prevailing economic system, 
resulted not in absorbing labour, but in creating more unemploy- 
ment. While capital accumulated at one end, poverty and un- 
employment increased at the other. Under a different system, 
with a stress on big scale industries absorbing labour, and with 
planned development this might well have been avoided. 

This fact of increasing mass poverty influenced Gandhi power- 
fully. It is true, I think, that there is a fundamental difference 
between his outlook on life generally and what might be called 
the modern outlook. He is not enamoured of ever-increasing 
standards of living and the growth of luxury at the cost of spiritual 
and moral values. He does not favour the soft life; for him the 
straight way is the hard way, and the love of luxury leads to crooked- 
ness and loss of virtue. Above all he is shocked at the vast gulf that 
stretches between the rich and the poor, in their ways of living, 
and their opportunities of growth. For his own personal and psycho- 
logical satisfaction, he crossed that gulf and went over to the side 
of the poor, adopting, with only such improvements as the poor 
themselves could afford, their ways of living, their dress or lack 
of dress. This vast difference between the few rich and the poverty- 
stricken masses seemed to him to be due to two principal causes: 
foreign rule and the exploitation that accompanied it, and the 
capitalist industrial civilization of the west as embodied in the big 
machine. He reacted against both. He looked back with yearning 
to the days of the old autonomous and more-or-less self-contained 
village community where there had been an automatic balance 
between production, distribution, and consumption; where political 
or economic power was spread out and not concentrated as it is 
to-day; where a kind of simple democracy prevailed; where the 
gulf between the rich and the poor was not so marked; where 
the evil of great cities were absent and people lived in contact with 
the life-giving soil and breathed the pure air of the open spaces. 

There was all this basic difference in outlook as to the meaning 
of life itself between him and many others, and this difference 
coloured his language as well as his activities. His language, vivid 
and powerful as it often was, drew its inspiration from the religious 
and moral teachings of the ages, principally of India but also of 
other countries. Moral values must prevail, the ends can never 
justify unworthy means, or else the individual and the race perish. 

And yet he was no dreamer living in some fantasy of his own 
creation, cut off from life and its problems. He came from Gujrat, 
the home of hard-headed businessmen, and he had an unrivalled 

404" 



knowledge of the Indian villages and the conditions of life that 
prevailed there. It was out ofthat personal experience that he evolved 
his programme of the spinning-wheel and village industry. 
If immediate relief was to be given to the vast numbers of the 
unemployed and partially employed, if the rot that was spreading 
throughout India and paralysing the masses was to be stopped, if 
the villagers' standards were to be raised, however, little en 
masse, if they were to be taught self-reliance instead of waiting help- 
lessly like derelicts for relief from others, if all this was to be done 
without much capital, then there seemed no other way. Apart 
from the evils inherent in foreign rule and exploitation, and the 
lack offreedom to initiate and carry through big schemes ofreform, 
the problem of India was one of scarcity of capital and abundance 
of labour — how to utilize that wasted labour, that manpower 
that was producing nothing. Foolish comparisons are made between 
manpower and machine-power; of course a big machine can 
do the work of a thousand or ten thousand persons. But if those 
ten thousand sit idly by or starve, the introduction of the machine 
is not a social gain., except in long perspective which envisages 
a change in social conditions. When the big machine is not there 
at all, then no question of comparison arises; it is a nett gain both 
from the individual and the national point ofview to utilize man- 
power for production. There is no necessary conflict between 
this and the introduction ofmachinery on the largest scale, provid- 
ed that machinery is used primarily for absorbing labour and not 
for creating fresh unemployment. 

Comparisons between India and the small highly industrializ- 
ed countries of the west, or big countries with relatively sparse 
populations, like the U.S.S.R. or the U.S.A., are misleading. In 
western Europe the process of industrialization has proceeded 
for 100 years, and gradually the population has adjusted itself 
to it; the population has grown rapidly, then stabilized itself, and 
is now declining. In the U.S.A. and the U.S.S.R. there are vast 
tracts with a small, though growing, population. A tractor is an 
absolute necessity there to exploit the land for agriculture. It is 
not so obvious that a tractor is equally necessary in the densely 
populated Gangetic valley, so long as vast numbers depend on 
the land alone for sustenance. Other problems arise, as they have 
arisen even in America. Agriculture has been carried on for 
thousands of years in India and the soil has been exploited to the 
utmost. Would the deep churning up of the soil by tractors lead 
to impoverishment of this soil as well as to soil erosion? When 
railways were built in India and high embankments put up for 
the purpose, no thought was given to the natural drainage of the 
country. The embankments interfered with this drainage system 
and, as a result, we have had repeated and ever-increasing floods 
and soil erosion, and malaria has spread. 

405" 



I am all for tractors and big machinery, and I am convinced 
that the rapid industrialization of India is essential to relieve the 
pressure on land, to combat poverty and raise standards of living, 
for defence and a variety of other purposes. But I am equally 
convinced that the most careful planning and adjustment are 
necessary if we are to reap the full benefit of industrialization 
and avoid many of its dangers. This planning is necessary to-day 
in all countries of arrested growth, like China and India, which 
have strong traditions of their own. 

In China I was greatly attracted to the Industrial Co-opera- 
tives — the Indusco movement — and it seems to me that some 
such movement is peculiarly suited to India. It would fit in with 
the Indian background, give a democratic basis to small industry, 
and develop the co-operative habit. It could be made to com- 
plement big industry. It must be remembered that, however 
rapid might be the development of heavy industry in India, a 
vas field will remain open to small and cottage industries. 
Even in Soviet Russia owner-producer co-operatives have played 
an important part in industrial growth. 

The increasing use of electric power facilitates the growth of 
small industry and makes it economically capable of competing 
with large-scale industry. There is also a growing opinion in 
favour of decentralization, and even Henry Ford had advocated 
it. Scientists are pointing out the psychological and biological 
dangers of loss of contact with the soil which results from life 
in great industrial cities. Some have even said that human survi- 
val necessitates a going back to the soil and the village. Fortun- 
ately, science has made it possible to-day for populations to be 
spread out and remain near the soil and yet enjoy all the ameni- 
ties of modern civilization and culture. 

However that may be, the problem before us in India during 
recent decades has been how, in the existing circumstances and 
restricted as we were by alien rule and its attendant vested inte- 
rests, we could relieve the poverty of the masses and produce a 
spirit of self-reliance among them. There are many arguments 
in favour of developing cottage industries at any time, but situat- 
ed as we were that was certainly the most practical thing we 
could do. The methods adopted may not have been the best or 
the most suitable. The problem was vast, difficult, and intricate, 
and we had frequently to face suppression by government. We 
had to learn gradually by the process of trial and error. I think 
we should have encouraged co-operatives from the beginning, 
and relied more on expert technical and scientific knowledge 
for the improvement of small machines suitable for cottage and 
village use. The co-operation principle is now being introduced 
in these organizations. 

G. D. H. Cole, the economist, has said that 'Gandhi's cam- 

406" 



paign for the development of the home-made cloth industry is 
no mere fad of a romantic eager to revive the past, but a practi- 
cal attempt to relieve the poverty and uplift the standard of the 
village.' It was that undoubtedly, and it was much more. It 
forced India to think of the poor peasant in human terms, to realize 
that behind the glitter of a few cities lay this morass of misery 
and poverty, to grasp the fundamental fact that the true test of 
progress and freedom in India did not lie in the creation of a 
number of millionaires or prosperous lawyers and the like, or 
in the setting up of councils and assemblies, but in the change 
in the status and conditions of life of the peasant. The British had 
created a new caste or class in India, the English-educated class, 
which lived in a world of its own, cut off from the mass of the 
population, and looked always, even when protesting, towards 
its rulers. Gandhi bridged that gap to some extent and forced it 
to turn its head and look towards its own people. 

Gandhiji's attitude to the use of machinery seemed to undergo 
a gradual change. 'What I object to,' he said, 'is the craze for 
machinery, not machinery as such.' 'If we could have electricity 
in every village home, I shall not mind villagers plying their 
implements and tools with electricity.' The big machines seemed 
to him to lead inevitably, at least in the circumstances of to-day, 
to the concentration of power and riches: 'I consider it a sin 
and injustice to use machinery for the purpose of concentration 
of power and riches in the hands of the few. To-day the machine 
is used in this way.' He even came to accept the necessity of many 
kinds of heavy industries and large-scale key industries and public 
utilities, provided they were state-owned and did not interfere 
with some kinds of cottage industries which he considered as 
essential. Referring to his own proposals, he said: 'The whole of 
this programme will be a structure on sand if it is not built on the 
solid foundation of economic equality.' 

Thus even the enthusiastic advocates for cottage and small- 
scale industries recognize that big-scale industry is, to a certain 
extent, necessary and inevitable; only they would like to limit 
it as far as possible. Superficially then the question becomes one 
of emphasis and adjustment of the two forms of production and 
economy. It can hardly be challenged that, in the context of the 
modern world, no country can be politically and economically 
independent, even within the framework of international inter- 
dependence, unless it is highly industrialized and has developed 
its power resources to the utmost. Nor can it achieve or maintain 
high standards of living and liquidate poverty without the aid 
of modern technology in almost every sphere of life. An indus- 
trially backward country will continually upset the world equi- 
librium and encourage the aggressive tendencies of more deve- 
loped countries. Even if it retains its political independence, this 

407" 



will be nominal only, and economic control will tend to pass to 
others. This control will inevitably upset its own small-scale 
economy which it has sought to preserve in pursuit of its own 
view of life. Thus an attempt to build up a country's economy 
largely on the basis of cottage and small-scale industries is doomed 
to failure. It will not solve the basic problems of the country or 
maintain freedom, nor will it fit in with the world framework, 
except as a colonial appendage. 

Is it possible to have two entirely different kinds of economy 
in a country — one based on the big machine and industrializa- 
tion, and the other mainly on cottage industries? This is hardly 
conceivable, for one must overcome the other, and there can be 
little doubt that the big machine will triumph unless it is forcibly 
prevented from doing so. Thus it is not a mere question of adjust- 
ment of the two forms of production and economy. One must be 
dominating and paramount, with the other as complementary 
to it, fitting in where it can. The economy based on the latest 
technical achievements of the day must necessarily be the domi- 
nating one. If technology demands the big machine, as it does to-day 
in a large measure, then the big machine with all its implications 
and consequences must be accepted. Where it is possible, in terms 
of that technology, to decentralize production, this would be 
desirable. But, in any event, the latest technique has to be follow- 
ed, and to adhere to out-worn and out-of-date methods of produc- 
tion, except as a temporary and stop gap measure, is to arrest 
growth and development. 

Any argument as to the relative merits of small-scale and 
large-scale industry seems strangely irrelevant to-day when the 
world, and the dominating facts of the situation that confront 
it, have decided in favour of the latter. Even in India the decision 
has been made by these facts themselves, and no one doubts that 
India will be rapidly industrialized in the near future. She has 
already gone a good way in that direction. The evils of unrestricted 
and unplanned industrialization are well recognized to-day. 
Whether these evils are necessary concomitants of big industry, 
or derived from the social and economic structure behind it, is 
another matter. If the economic structure is primarily responsible 
for them, then surely we should. set about changing that structure, 
instead of blaming the inevitable and desirable development in 
technique. 

The real question is not one of quantitative adjustment and 
balancing of various incongruous elements and methods of pro- 
duction, but a qualitative change-over to something different 
and new, from which various social consequences flow. The 
economic and political aspects of this qualitative change are 
important, but equally important are the social and psycholo- 
gical aspects. In India especially, where we have been wedded 

408" 



far too long to past forms and modes of thought and action, new 
experiences, new processes, leading to new ideas and new hori- 
zons, are necessary. Thus we will change the static character 
of our living and make it dynamic and vital, and our minds will 
become active and adventurous. New situations lead to new 
experiences, as the mind is compelled to deal with them and 
adapt itself to a changing environment. 

It is well recognized now that a child's education should be 
intimately associated with some craft or manual activity. The 
mind is stimulated thereby and there is a co-ordination between 
the activities of the mind and the hands. So also the mind of a 
growing boy or girl is stimulated by the machine. It grows under 
the machine's impact (under proper conditions, of course, and 
not as an exploited and unhappy worker in a factory) and opens 
out new horizons. Simple scientific experiments, peeps into the 
microscope, and an explanation of the ordinary phenomena of 
nature bring excitement in their train, an understanding of some 
of life's processes, and a desire to experiment and find out instead 
of relying on set phrases and old formulae. Self-confidence and 
the co-operative spirit grow, and frustration, arising out of the 
miasma of the past, lessens. A civilization based on ever-changing 
and advancing mechanical techniques leads to this. Such a civi- 
lization is a marked change, a jump almost from the older type, 
and is intimately connected with modern industrialization. 
Inevitably it gives rise to new problems and difficulties, but it also 
shows the way to overcome them. 

I have a partiality for the literary aspects of education and I 
admire the classics, but I am quite sure that some elementary- 
scientific training in physics and chemistry, and especially biology, 
as also in the application of science, is essential for all boys and 
girls. Only thus can they understand and fit into the modern world 
and develop, to some extent at least, the scientific temper. There 
is something very wonderful about the high achievements of 
science and modern technology (which no doubt will be bettered 
in the near future), in the superb ingenuity of scientific instruments, 
in the amazingly delicate and yet powerful machines, in all that 
has flowed from the adventurous inquiries of science and its 
applications, in the glimpses into the fascinating workshop and 
processes of nature, in the fine sweep of science, through its my-, 
riad workers, in the realms of thought and practice, and, above 
all, in the fact that all this has come out of the mind of man. 

Government Checks Industrial Growth 
War Production is Diversion from Normal Production 

Heavy industry was represented in India by the Tata Iron and 
Steel Works at Jamshedpur. There was nothing else of the kind 

409" 



and the other engineering workshops were really j<Jbbing shops. 
Even the development of Tatas had been slow because of Gov- 
ernment policy. During World War I, when there was a shortage 
of locomotives and railway carriages and wagons, Tatas decided 
to make locomotives and, I think, even imported machinery for 
the purpose; but when the war ended, the Government of India 
and the Railway Board (which is a department of the central 
government) decided to continue their patronage of British 
locomotives. There is obviously no private market for locomo- 
tives, as the railways were either controlled by Government or 
owned by British companies, and so Tatas had to give up the 
idea of making locomotives. 

The three fundamental requirements of India, if she is to 
develop industrially and otherwise, are a heavy engineering and 
machine-making industry, scientific research institutes, and elec- 
tric power. These must be the foundations of all planning, and 
the national planning committee laid the greatest emphasis on 
them. We lacked all three, and bottlenecks in industrial expan- 
sion were always occurring. A forward policy could have rapidly 
removed these bottlenecks, but the government's policy was the 
reverse of forward and was obviously one of preventing the 
development of heavy industry in India. Even when World 
War II started, the necessary machinery was not allowed to be 
imported; later shipping difficulties were pleaded. There was 
neither lack of capital nor skilled personnel in India, only machi- 
nery was lacking, and industrialists were clamouring for it. If 
opportunities had been given for the importation of machinery, 
not only would the economic position of India have been infinitely 
better, but the whole aspect of the war in the far eastern theatres 
might have changed. Many of the essential articles which had 
to be brought over, usually by air and at great cost and under 
considerable difficulties, could have been manufactured in India. 
India would have really become an arsenal for China and the east, 
and her industrial progress might have matched that of Canada 
or Australia. But imperative as the needs of the war situation 
were, the future needs of British industry were always kept in view, 
and it was considered undesirable to develop any industries in 
India which might compete with British industries in the post- 
war years. This was no secret policy; public expression was given 
to it in British journals, and there was continuous reference to it 
and protests against it in India. 

Jamshedji Tata, the far-sighted founder of Tata Steel, had 
vision enough to start the Indian Institute of Science in Banga- 
lore. This research institute was one of the very few of its kind 
in India; the others were some government institutions with 
limited objectives. The vast field of scientific and industrial 
research, which has thousands of institutes, academies, and special 

410" 



stations in the U.S.A. and the Soviet Union, was thus almost 
wholly neglected in India, except for the Bangalore institute and 
some work done in the universities. An effort was made, some- 
time after World War II started, to encourage research and, 
though limited in scope, it has produced good results. 

While shipbuilding and locomotive manufacture were dis- 
couraged and prevented, an effort to build up an automobile 
industry was also scotched. Some years before World War II, 
preparations were started for this and everything was worked out 
in co-operation with a famous American firm of automobile 
manufacturers. A number of assembly plants bad already been 
functioning in India. It was now proposed to manufacture all 
the parts in India with Indian capital and management and 
Indian personnel. By arrangement with the American corporation 
their patents could be used and their skilled and technical super- 
vision was available for the initial period. The provincial govern- 
ment of Bombay, which was then functioning under a Congress 
ministry, promised assistance in various ways. The planning 
committee was especially interested in this project. Everything in 
fact had been fixed up and all that remained was to import the 
machinery. The Secretary of State for India however did not 
approve and gave his fiat against the importation of the machinery. 
According to him 'any attempt to set up this industry now would 
divert both labour and machinery which are more urgently needed 
for the war.' This was in the early months of the war, during 
the so-called phoney period. It was pointed out that plenty of 
labour, even skilled labour, was available and in fact was idle. 
War necessity was also a curious argument, for that hecessity itself 
demanded motor transport. But the Secretary of State for India, 
the final authority, sitting in London, was not moved by these 
arguments. It was reported also that a rival and powerful 
automobile corporation in America did not approve of the start- 
ing of an automobile industry in India under someone else's 
auspices. 

Transport became one of the major problems of the war in 
India. There was the lack of motor trucks, of petroleum, of 
locomotives and railway wagons, even of coal. Almost all these 
difficulties would have been much easier of solution if the pre- 
war proposals on behalf of India had not been turned down. 
Locomotives, railway cars, motor trucks, as well as armoured 
vehicles would have been manufactured in India. Power alcohol 
would have helped greatly in easing the strain caused by scarcity 
of petroleum. As for coal there was no scarcity in India; there 
were huge reserves but only very little was produced for use. Coal 
production has actually gone down during the war years in spite 
of increased demand. Conditions in coal mines were so bad and 
wages so low that workeis were not attracted. Ultimately the 

411" 



bar on women working underground was removed as women 
were available at those wages. No attempt was made to overhaul 
the coal industry and improve conditions and wages so as to attract 
workers. Owing to lack of coal, the expansion of industry has 
suffered greatly and even existing factories have had to stop 
working. 

Some hundreds of locomotives and many thousands of rail- 
way cars were shipped from India to the Middle East, thus 
adding to the transport difficulties in India. Even the permanent 
way was uprooted in some places for transfer elsewhere. The 
casual way in which all this was done, without any regard to future 
consequences, was amazing. There was a complete lack of plan- 
ning and foresight, and the partial solution of one problem led 
immediately to more serious problems. 

An attempt was made at the end of 1939 or the beginning of 
1940 to start an aircraft manufacturing industry in India. Again 
everything was fixed up with an American firm and urgent 
cables were sent to the Government of India and army head- 
quarters in India for their consent. There was no response. After 
repeated reminders a reply was forthcoming disapproving of 
the scheme. Why make aeroplanes in India when you could buy 
them in England and America? 

In pre-war days a large number of medicines and drugs and 
vaccines used to come to India from Germany. War stopped this. 
It was immediately suggested that some of the more essential 
vaccines and medicines might be made in India. This could 
easily be done in some of the Government institutes. The Gov- 
ernment of India did not approve and pointed out that every- 
thing that was necessary could now be obtained through Impe- 
rial Chemical Industries. When it was suggested that the same 
thing could be made in India at much less cost, and utilized for 
army as well as general public use without any private interest, 
high authority was indignant at the intrusion of such base consi- 
derations in matters of state policy. 'Government,' it was said, 
'was not a commercial institution!' 

Government was not a commercial institution but it was very 
much interested in commercial institutions, and one of these was 
Imperial Chemicals. This huge combine was given many faci- 
lities. Even without such facilities it had such enormous resources 
that no Indian firm, except to some extent Tatas, could possibly 
compete with it. Apart from these facilities it had powerful sup- 
port both in India and England. A few months after leaving the 
viceroyalty of India, Lord Linlithgow appeared in a new role 
as a director of Imperial Chemicals. This demonstrates the very 
close connection between big business in England and the Govern- 
ment of India, and how this connection must necessarily affect 
policy. Lord Linlithgow may have been a substantial shareholder 

412" 



in Imperial Chemicals even when he was Viceroy of India. In 
any event he has now placed the prestige of his Indian connection 
and his special knowledge derived as Viceroy at the disposal of 
Imperial Chemicals. 

Lord Linlithgow declared as Viceroy in December, 1942: 'We 
have achieved immense things in the field of supply. India has 
made a contribution of outstanding importance and value... 
for the first six months of the war the value of contracts placed 
was approximately 29 crores. For the next months from April 
to October, 1942, it was. 137 crores. Over the whole period to 
the end of October, 1942, it was no less than 428 crores: and these 
figures exclude the value of work done in the ordnance factories 
which is in itself very considerable.'* This is perfectly true and 
India's contribution to the war effort has grown tremendously 
since this was said. One would imagine that this represents a vast 
increase in industrial activity and a much larger index of produc- 
tion. Yet, surprisingly, there has not been much change. The 
index of India's industrial activity in 1938-39 was 111.1 (taking 
1935 as 100). In 1939-40 it was 114.0; in 1940-41 it varied bet- 
ween 112.1 to 127.0; in March, 1942, it was 118.9; it fell in April, 
1942, to 109.2, and then gradually rose to 116.2 in July, 1942. 
These figures are not complete as they do not include munitions 
and some chemical industries. Nevertheless they are important 
and significant. 

The amazing fact emerges that the total industrial activity of 
India in July, 1942, was, apart from munitions, etc., only slightly 
in excess of the pre-war period. There was a brief spurt in Decem- 
ber, 1941, when the index figure went up to 127.0, and then 
declined. And yet the value of Government contracts placed with 
industries was progressively increasing. For the six months Octo- 
ber to March, 1939-40, these contracts amounted to 290 million 
rupees, according to Lord Linlithgow, and for the six months 
April to October, 1942, they were for 1,370 million rupees. 

All these tremendous war orders thus do not represent any 
increase in the total industrial activity, but indicate its large- 
scale diversion from normal production to production for speci- 
alized war purposes. For the moment they supplied war needs 
but at the cost of a terrific lowering of production for civilian 
needs. This inevitably had far-reaching consequences. While 
sterling balances in favour of India grew in London, and money 
accumulated in the hands of a few persons in India, the country 
as a whole was starved of essential needs, vast and ever-increas- 
ing quantities of paper money circulated, and prices went up 
and sometimes reached fantastic figures. Already by the middle 
of 1942 a food crisis was evident; in the autumn of 1943 famine 
killed its millions in Bengal and other parts of India. The burden 

*The figures are in rupees. A crore is ten millions. 

413" 



of the war and of the official policy pursued in its connection fell 
on scores of millions in India who were least capable of shoulder- 
ing it, and crushed out of existence vast numbers of people who 
died by the cruellest of deaths — slow starvation. 

The figures I have given end with 1942; I have no later ones. 
Probably many changes have taken place since then and the 
index of India's industrial activity may be higher now.* But the 
picture they reveal has not changed in any fundamental aspect. 
The same processes are at work, the same crises follow one after 
the other, the same patchwork and temporary remedies are 
applied, the same lack of any planned and comprehensive outlook 
is evident, the same partiality for the present and future of British 
industry prevails — and meanwhile people continue to die from 
lack of food and from epidemics. 

It is true that some of the existing industries, notably the 
textile, the iron and steel, and the jute industries, have prospered 
exceedingly. The number of millionaires among industrial mag- 
nates, war contractors, hoarders, and profiteers, has grown, and 
large sums have accumulated in the hands of small upper strata 
of India's people, in spite of a heavy super tax. But labour 
generally has not profited, and Mr. N. M. Joshi, the labour leader, 
declared in the Central Assembly that labour conditions in India 
had become worse during the war. Land owners and middle 
farmers, especially in the Punjab and Sind, have prospered, but 
the great majority of the agricultural population have been hard 
hit by war conditions and have suffered greatly. Consumers 
generally have been progressively ground down by inflation and 
the rise in prices. 

In the middle of 1942 an American technical mission — the 
Grady Committee — came to India to inspect the existing indus- 
tries and make suggestions for increased production. They were 
naturally concerned with production for war purposes only. Their 
report was never published, possibly because the Government 
of India vetoed publication. A few of their recommendations 
were, however, announced. They suggested the production of power 
alcohol, the expansion of the steel industry, more electric power, 
greater production of aluminium and refined sulphur, and ratio- 
nalization in various industries. They also recommended the 
institution of high-powered control of production, independent 
of established Government agencies, on the American model. 

*It is not so. The Calcutta journal, Capital, of March 9th, 1944, gives the following 
figures for the index of industrial activity in India. 

(1935-36=100): 1938-39: 111.1. 1939-40: 114.0. 1940-41: 117.3. 1941-42: 
122.7. 1942-43: 108.8. 1943-44: 108.0 (approx.). 1944 (January): 111.7. 

These do not include armament production. Thus, after more than four years of war, 
industrial activity as a whole in India was actually somewhat lower than in the pre-war 
period. 

414" 



Evidently the Grady Committee was not filled with admiration 
for the leisurely, casual, and inefficient methods of the Govern- 
ment of India, on which even total war had produced little 
impression, They were struck, however, by the efficiency and 
organization of the Tata Steel Works, a vast organization run 
entirely by Indians. It was further stated in the preliminary report 
of the Grady Committee that 'the mission has been impressed with 
the good quality and excellent potentiality of Indian labour. The 
Indian is skilful with his hands, and given satisfactory working 
conditions and security of employment, is dependable and indus- 
trious.'* 

During the last two or three years the chemical industry has 
grown in India, shipbuilding has made some advance, and an 
infant aircraft industry has been started. All war industries, includ- 
ing jute and textile mills, have made vast profits, in spite of the 
super tax, and a great deal of capital has accumulated. The 
Government of India had put a ban on capital issues for fresh 
industrial undertakings. Recently there has been some relaxation 
in this respect, though nothing definite may be done till after the 
war. Even this little relaxation has led to a burst of energy from 
big business and huge industrial schemes are taking shape. India, 
whose growth has so long been arrested, appears to be on the 
verge of large-scale industrialization. 



*Comrrenting on the shelving of the Grady Committee's Report, Commerce (Bombay, 
November 28th, 1942) wrote: 'The fact remains that powerful interests are operating 
abroad for the purpose of throttling further industrialization of this country, so that in the 
post-war world there would not be any dangerous competition to the west from the east, '