assortment of articles from South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, South Asian History and Culture

389 Pages·2012·1.58 MB·English

by  Bidyut Chakrabarty

An Alternative to Partition: The United
Bengal Scheme

Bidyut Chakrabarty, University of Delhi
South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies,
n.s., Vol.XXVI, no.2, August 2003
The 1947 British withdrawal from the Indian subcontinent led to
the creation of two sovereign states, India and Pakistan. For
Pakistanis, the justification for the Great Divide has always been
the so-called ‘two-nation theory’, which holds that ‘Hindus’ and
‘Muslims’ in the subcontinent comprise distinct, homogenous
collectivities, harbouring in their separate spheres the elements
of nationality. As early as 1971 the proposition about Muslim
homogeneity was thrown into doubt when erstwhile East
Pakistan seceded to form an independent state after less than
three decades as part of Pakistan. Now, a number of studies
have shown the extent to which, in the lead-up to partition,
religion was emphasised for political ends. But was religion—
even then—the binding force Pakistani apologists have insisted
it was? This essay looks at a relatively less known chapter in
India’s freedom struggle, namely, the demand of the Bengali
political leadership for a third dominion of independent Bengal.
Although the demand proved abortive, the fact that the idea of
a United Bengal nation was seriously mooted, and actively
pursued, by Hindu and Muslim politicians alike—often acting
together—shows up the simplistic nature of the ‘two-nation’
view.
The story of the 1947 partition or the second partition of Bengal
can be told in two contrasting ways. On the one hand, the
Bengali bhadraloks (gentlefolk) who participated in the
1
Swadeshi Movement to revoke the first partition in 1908
campaigned vigorously in 1947 for the division of Bengal as
2
perhaps the only way to avoid a permanent Muslim rule. What
was therefore puzzling to Nirad Chaudhuri was ‘how the same
class of Hindus who opposed Lord Curzon’s partition have now
themselves brought about a second partition of their country’? It
is a good question. Chaudhuri’s answer, however—that it was
an example of the ‘inconsistency of a politically incompetent
3
and emotionally unstable class’—is patently unsatisfactory.
The arguments condemning the British design to divide
Bengalis on the basis of religion do not seem to have persuaded
the Bengali bhadraloks who spearheaded the movement for
4
partition in 1947. On the other hand, the organised campaign
for partition grew up against an equally high profile movement
for an independent Bengal. This movement, by contrast, evoked
folk-memories of centuries of Hindu-Muslim co-existence. Yet
this, too, appears to have been in many ways a fabrication of
history. Apart from efforts in the localities, the 1919-21
Congress-Khilafat merger was probably the first occasion when
Hindus and Muslims came together at the provincial level to
fight the British on different political agenda. Nevertheless, a
clear continuity can be discerned in the Congressite political
strategies pursued from 1919 down to the 1940s. 1923 saw the
forging of the Bengal Pact, a political arrangement suggested by
C.R. Das to accommodate the aspirations of the growing Muslim
5
professional middle class. Following his mentor, Subhas Bose
sought in 1940 to win over elite Muslims by launching an
agitation for the demolition of the Holwell Monument, which he
described as ‘an unwarranted stain on the memory of the last
independent Nawab of Bengal’ and a ‘symbol of our slavery and
6
humiliation’. Later still, Calcutta’s Hindus and Muslims found
common political cause in the trial of the Indian National Army’s
7
leaders in the Red Fort as war criminals. Thus the spirit of the
1923 Bengal Pact seems to have prevailed even in the 1940s
when Muslims no longer remained mere recipients of Hindu
favour but controlled the legislature as a result of the
constitutional changes imposed under the 1932 Communal
8
Award. Yet the contrast between the Muslim response to the
1923 Bengal Pact and their approach to the political
arrangements with the Hindus in the 1940s is also illustrative of
a radical transformation of Muslim politics in Bengal. The Bengal
Pact was concluded at a time when Das’s leadership was
accepted unanimously by both communities; the Muslims were
basically happy to accept what Das was willing to provide. By
the 1940s, however, because of their hold on the ministry, the
Muslims were better placed to bargain with the Congress. This
was the context in which the United Bengal scheme was
articulated and launched. Significantly, while the campaign for a
United Bengal cut across the conventional party divide, it
attracted only marginal support from the Muslim Leaguers and
vehement opposition from a powerful section of the Congress
led by B.C. Roy.
The Scheme for a Third Dominion
Between April and June 1947 top Bengali politicians like Sarat
Bose, K.S. Roy and
H.S. Suhrawardy argued for a United Bengal comprising both
east and west Bengal. Although they failed as we shall see to
generate enough support to carry the day, both the provincial
Congress and Muslim League leaders involved in the campaign
made a strong case for an independent nation of Bengal.
Moreover their efforts helped to generate a remarkable, if
transient, unity between the major communal elites in the
province. Was the United Bengal campaign, then, a movement
grounded in realistic and sensible assumptions about Bengali
society and culture that went awry, or was it a non-starter—in
9
Chatterji’s phrase, ‘never more than a pipe dream’?
The idea of a united sovereign Bengal was the brainchild
primarily of H.S. Suhrawardy, the then premier of Bengal. At a
press conference in Delhi on 27 April 1947 he called on the
British to recognise ‘an independent, undivided and sovereign
10
Bengal in a divided India as a separate dominion’.
11
Suhrawardy began floating the idea following Atlee’s
announcement on 20 February 1947 that it was ‘the definite
intention’ of the British to leave India by June 1948, even if that
necessitated transferring power ‘in some areas to existing
12
Provincial Governments’. Attlee’s statement suggested that
the British were moving towards accepting the League’s
demand for a separate Muslim homeland. Fearing the worst, but
reconciled to the inevitability of some sort of Pakistan, the
Congress high command now withdrew its earlier objection to a
partition of British India. At the same time, they insisted that
any partition should quarantine all Hindu majority areas within
provinces. This equated with a demand for the partition of
Bengal. Criticising this strategy as ‘short-sighted’ and a
13
‘confession of defeatism’, Suhrawardy proposed instead
keeping Bengal as it was. Bengal was indivisible in view of its
‘economic integrity, mutual reliance and the necessity of
14
creating a strong workable state’.
Right from the start, however, Suhrawardy jeopardised his
otherwise principled stance on the future of Bengal by linking it
to a campaign to purge the provinces of non-Bengali
businessmen, whom he accused of keeping Bengal economically
backward in the interest of maximising their own profit. He
opined: ‘If Bengal is to be great, it can only [be] so if it stands
on its leg [,«'c]...it must be a master of its own resources and
riches and its own destiny. It must cease to be exploited by
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others’. Unsurprisingly the Bengal Provincial Muslim League
(BPML) backed Suhrawardy’s claim. In a press statement BPML
secretary Abul Hashim argued:
Cent per cent alien capital, both Indian and Anglo-American
exploiting
Bengal is invested in Bengal. The growing socialist tendencies
amongst us have created fears of expropriating.... They have
the prudence to
visualize difficulties in a free and united Bengal. It is in the
interest of
16
the alien capital that Bengal should be divided.
Just as predictably, Bengali Hindus found the claim
disconcerting.
Significantly, Congress at the national level had close links with
the wealthiest of these immigrant groups, the Marwaris. Apart
from the British-dominated Bengal Chamber of Commerce,
there were three other organisations to protect indigenous
commercial interests—namely, the Indian Chamber of
Commerce, the Bengal National Chamber of Commerce and the
Muslim Chamber of Commerce. Of these, the Bengal National
Chamber of Commerce, dominated by Bengalis, declined in
importance by the first half of the twentieth century, probably
because of the demise of its mentor, C.R. Das, and the
consolidation of the Marwari business interests through the
Indian Chamber of Commerce which was in the forefront of the
17
struggle against foreign capital. While it ‘had close contract
with the Congress High Command and found in Gandhi the
18
greatest guardian of an ordered society’, the latter criticised
the Bengal Congress for its radical tone and alleged connections
with revolutionary terrorism. G.D. Birla, the principal architect of
the Indian Chamber of Commerce, on several occasions
19
complained to Gandhi about the Bengal Congress; and
especially in 1937, when the question of a coalition between the
Krishak Praja Party (KPP) and the Bengal Congress came up, it
was Birla who persuaded Gandhi to withdraw his approval,
having convinced him that the combination would have an
adverse impact on the Marwari business community in Calcutta.
20
Similarly, the Muslim Chamber of Commerce, founded in
1932, was primarily an instrument for the protection of the non-
Bengali (Muslim) commercial interests in Bengal. Comprising the
principal Muslim merchants, manufacturers and bankers of
Calcutta, including the Ispahani and Adamjee families, the
Chamber boasted 890 members with a claimed capital of Rs200
21
million. It declared in 1934—perhaps a wild claim—that apart
from having a firm grip on the trade in salt, raw jute, rice and
skins, its members controlled 75 percent of Bengal’s coastal
22
trade.
In the context of imperial divide and rule, the Bengal Chamber
of Commerce, an association essentially of European merchants
and manufacturers, always supported the cause of the Muslims
as against the Congress. In fact, with the publication of the 1933
White Paper which recognised ‘numerical strength’ as the
source of power, the European Association as the political wing
of the Bengal Chamber of Commerce realised that the key to
their holding onto power was undoubtedly the solidity of
23
Muslims. Accordingly, the Association decided to financially
back The Star Of India, the mouthpiece of the Muslims, by
24
placing advertisements from European firms into the paper.
The above summary shows the extent to which commercial
interests appeared significant in Bengal’s political arithmetic. By
virtue of Birla’s intimacy with Gandhi, the Indian Chamber of
Commerce succeeded in most cases in pursuing its commercial
goal despite the vehement opposition of the provincial Congress
leadership. And with the triumph of the anti-Subhas Bose faction
in the Bengal Provincial Congress, Birla’s position was further
strengthened. In contrast, the Sarat Bose-led Congress ad hoc
managing committee that superseded it took a much more
sympathetic view of the economic role of the indigenous
business-houses.
Nevertheless, these interests did not always act rationally in an
economic sense. For instance, the Indian Chamber of Commerce
opposed the United Bengal movement from the beginning even
though partition was sure to destroy the Marwari commercial
network in east Bengal. G.D. Birla, in a letter to the All-India
25
Congress Committee (AICC), suggested that its motives were
patriotic: the Suhrawardy-sponsored United Bengal campaign
was a ploy to create a greater Pakistan. The logic of the
argument is easy to understand; what is puzzling is Birla’s
unequivocal support for a policy which also meant a significant
loss of market share. Birla probably banked on his connections
with the Congress high command paying off, once the British
commercial houses had departed. Thereafter his firm grip over
Calcutta, the commercial capital of the subcontinent, would
enable him to penetrate both the national and international
26
markets. And partition would also exclude other organised
commercial interests, including the Muslim Chamber of
Commerce, already well entrenched in east Bengal, from
attempting to extend into Calcutta and west Bengal. So, the
argument marshalled by the Muslim Chamber of Commerce in
favour of the move appears to have stemmed as much from
commercial as political considerations.
Conversely, Jinnah’s decision to support Suhrawardy can be
attributed, to a large extent, to M.A.H. Ispahani of the Muslim
Chamber of Commerce, who was reported to have persuaded
27
the Qaid-i-Azam to discuss the matter with the viceroy.
Jinnah doubtless saw in Suhrawardy’s move the possibility of a
greater Pakistan; but Ispahani’s motives are harder to fathom.
Possibly he hoped his involvement would serve to neutralise the
xenophobia prevalent in Bengal and put him in the good books
of Jinnah, the ruler-elect of Pakistan. Another consideration that
probably prompted Ispahani to extend support to Suhrawardy
was his long-cherished aim of controlling the jute industry in
28
west Bengal, then chiefly owned by British business-houses
29
and members of the Indian Chamber of Commerce. Thirdly,
Ispahani, like other Muslim merchants, was alarmed by the
decision that Calcutta was to be a part of India after the great
divide. Ispahani’s business career had begun in Calcutta, and
the city was likely to continue as an important business centre
after the transfer of power. Somehow, he must try to associate
30
the city with Pakistan. At any rate, it was a masterstroke,
which transformed a regional political campaign into a national
one, by linking the national leadership with its regional
counterpart.
Whilst Ispahani’s indirect involvement in the campaign for a
United Bengal strengthened Suhrawardy’s argument to some
extent, the very idea of separate dominion sparked off
dissension within the BPML, an organisation with a history of
31
factional rivalry. Suhrawardy’s 27 April statement provoked a
rival faction— the Khwaja group, led by Khwaja Nazimuddin and
Akram Khan—to question the validity of the United Bengal push
32
in the context of the 1940 Lahore resolution. But in a
counter-statement, Abul Hashim, the spokesman of the
Suhrawardy group, argued that the campaign was fully justified
in accord with the Pakistan demand. The Lahore resolution, he
explained, ‘never contemplated the creation of any Akhand
Muslim state’; on the contrary, ‘it stipulated that the areas in
which the Muslims are numerically in a majority as in the North-
Western and Eastern zones of India should be grouped to
constitute “Independent States” in which the constituent unit
shall be autonomous and sovereign’. Thus, Hashim concluded
33
that ‘it gives Bengal.complete sovereignty’. But the Hashim-
Suhrawardy camp did not stop there. Referring to the great
tradition of Bengal as a distinct cultural identity and the
richness of her language, Hashim warned Bengali Muslims that
‘in an Akhand Pakistan they would be under the domination of
west Pakistanis and Urdu would be the state language. They
could not expect a better position than becoming peons under
34
the Urdu-speaking judges and magistrates’. These
arguments struck a chord, particularly at the local level. In May
1947 members of the Calcutta District Muslim League poured
their fears into a memorandum sent to Jinnah. The
memorandum read, in part:
we do not so much fear the Hindus. We do not fear the British.
But we most certainly fear treachery, betrayal, sabotage,
defeatism and surrender to enemy’s machinations in our own
ranks in Bengal.. We apprehend that a certain section of leaders
of East Bengal have not only failed in mobilising forces to
counter and resist the Hindu move for partition [of Bengal] and
the Hindu occupation of Calcutta, rather they are really happy
supporting the Hindu move covertly and indirectly. They are
35
happy to see this partition.
In voicing opposition to the United Bengal proposal, BPML
president Akram Khan took the view that no one in the
Provincial League was empowered to make statements in the
matter since all negotiations affecting Muslims were being
36
conducted on their behalf by Jinnah and the All-India League.
But this same logic compelled Akram Khan and his colleagues to
execute a volte-face as soon as Jinnah accorded support to
37
Suhrawardy’s political campaign. In a bid to save face,
Akram put his group’s reversal down to a problem of
communication:
as disciplined members of the All India Muslim League they
opposed Suhrawardy vehemently because the United Bengal
movement did not receive a favourable response from the High
Command. Now, with Jinnah’s opposition to the partition of
Bengal, we will work hand in hand with Suhrawardy and his
38
colleagues to accomplish the stipulated aim.
The fight between the Khwaja group and the Hashim-
Suhrawardy combination was, however, merely one facet of the
broader rivalry between the newly emerged Muslim middle class
led by Suhrawardy, and the entrenched provincial landed
aristocracy under the nominal leadership of Khwaja Nazimuddin,
the Dhaka nawab. Apart form the obvious social distance
between the two groups, two events appear to have
consolidated the differences.
First, with the defeat in 1946 of Nazimuddin as the
parliamentary leader of the BPML, Suhrawardy formed a
ministry in which the Khwaja group was not given adequate
39
representation. Instead of accommodating what he called
‘the disgruntled and ambitious members of the Khwaja group’,
40
Suhrawardy lodged a complaint with Jinnah, who apparently
gave him a free hand in the formation of the ministry by
referring to the parliamentary convention whereby the leader is