CHURCHILL AND INDIA: Manipulation or Betrayal?
Author: Kishan Rana
Publisher: Routledge
Pages: 192
Price: Rs 1,295
Readers of this newspaper will be familiar with the name of Ambassador Kishan Rana, whose articles on diplomacy have featured on these pages over many years. In this book, he has moved away from his usual terrain and into the realm of biography, and that too of such a prominent historical figure as Winston Churchill. Why? Mr Rana describes how — during a visit to Churchill College, Cambridge — he found that “a missing element” in the voluminous Churchill Archives was “sustained, full examination of Churchill’s India connection.” He resolved to fill that gap, hence this book.
In the book’s subtitle, Mr Rana invites us to arrive at one of two assessments of Churchill’s impact on India: That Churchill either manipulated Indians (and India) or that he betrayed them. Most politicians would say that some manipulation is part of their normal armoury, and is therefore legitimate, especially in service of a higher goal. But betrayal? That is a more serious charge. You can only betray someone when you cause a clear breach in a relationship of trust. Did such a relationship exist between Churchill and his Indian interlocutors? More on this later.
The book’s 183 pages of text is organised into five chapters. First, we note the influences that shaped the youthful Winston’s world view, his early stint in India as a subaltern and reporter, and his meteoric rise to political prominence. The second chapter captures the years between the two World Wars. In the first phase of this period, Churchill is “obsessed” with India. Later, Churchill passionately warns against the Fascist threat in Europe and the rise of Hitler. Chapter 3 covers the Second World War and India. In the next chapter the end-game of Empire plays out, disastrously, in India. Chapter 5 — aptly titled “If and Perhaps”— is by far the best in the book. This chapter could easily stand independently as a fine monograph on realism and the moral imperative in political life.
Within this structure, Mr Rana has excavated materials held in the Churchill Archives and other primary sources, to ascertain Churchill’s impact on India. His approach to evidence is meticulous; where conclusive documentation is weak or lacking, he is scrupulous in bringing that to our notice, whilst providing alternative reasons for his conclusions. The author’s fluid style and judicious choice of words keep the narrative moving like a good detective story, connecting the threads and weighing the evidence. It is a roller-coaster journey with many twists and turns, so the reader needs to work hard to remain focused on the narrative.
From the 1920s onwards, Churchill was firm — even quixotic — in opposing any proposal resembling genuine self-rule for India. But was that sheer obduracy, as Mr Rana suggests, or a deep conviction that Britain would be fatally weakened if its Empire lost India? The author could have mentioned that the Ottoman Empire was unravelling right then in the early 1920s, through Anglo-French machinations that supported Arab and other local nationalisms. Soon, the Ottoman Empire dissolved into a welter of states, some independent, some as western colonies and others as UN-mandated protectorates. There is an uncanny resemblance here to Churchill’s own conception of the end-game for India: Its break-up into three parts — Hindu, Muslim and Princely States — all under a British strategic umbrella, of course.
Let us come to Mr Rana’s main charges: Manipulation and betrayal. Guilty on both counts, is his verdict. But he recognises that for any manipulation to succeed, those being manipulated share some blame. The Indian actors — Gandhi, Nehru, Jinnah and Ambedkar — were not always on the same page, and their differences meant that opportunities such as the Atlantic Pact were missed and potential allies (such as Roosevelt) not pursued.
On betrayal, though, Mr Rana is forthright. Churchill did nothing to prepare India for independence, and this mistake was compounded by the following Attlee government’s precipitous haste to announce its exit from India and the impending Partition. Even more egregious was Churchill’s inaction during the Bengal famine; earlier intervention by him — even in the midst of the fog and confusion of war — could have mitigated the horrendous consequences of this human tragedy. Mr Rana, thus, answers this reviewer’s earlier question: Churchill’s betrayal was not of any promise made to India, but his failure to adhere to universal standards of humanity and fundamental human values. This is a high bar by which to judge any leader but, then, many would consider Churchill to be right up there with Alexander and Napoleon in historical stature.
The final chapter pulls together all the narrative threads into a clear conclusion. Alongside, we have the author’s ruminations on guilt and remorse, leadership and betrayal, retribution and restorative justice. This essay, which marries philosophy with diplomacy, makes fascinating reading. Though Mr Rana’s judgement on Churchill’s betrayal is trenchant, it is well-argued and, most of all, free of malice or schadenfreude. Does it detract from Churchill’s reputation? Or does it show how human frailties in a great leader can lead to tragic consequences? To examine these questions alone, Churchill and India deserves to be read widely.
Most readers in the subcontinent may share Mr Rana’s view, but those living in the lands of “the English-speaking peoples” (as Churchill described them) might not. Yet it is in Britain, Canada, the USA, Australia and New Zealand that we find a new, vigorous questioning of Empire and colonialism, particularly among the young. So, with a potentially large market, this book should return the publishers a neat profit. That would be an irony indeed, but one that Churchill — a scholar of history and the classics — would surely appreciate.
The reviewer is an honorary fellow of the Institute of Chinese Studies, Delhi, and a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, London