In Nehru’s Shadow: Between India and Politics By MANASH BHATTACHARJEE
Nehru’s idea of India, though open and dynamic, is bound by an encompassing reason that amalgamates the modern idea of the ‘nation’ and the ‘state’. This idea has been not only overwhelming but also uncompromising at various counts. Seen in the context of India’s nation-state formation, one finds Nehru’s stance on nationalism complex and limiting, and, at times, forecloses discourses which challenge it against its own ground.
In the winter of 1997 I had met Professor Sudipta Kaviraj and talked to him about my M.Phil dissertation on Nehru. As the fruitful discussion—which partly hovered around Nehru’s The Discovery of India—was drawing to a close, Kaviraj suddenly remarked, ‘I think we should all discover our own India.’
I was quite struck by a political theorist invoking the need for such an inventive mode to narrate and investigate the relationship between the self and the nation. In fact, this is precisely what Nehru had previously done in The Discovery of India. Almost forty years before Benedict Anderson gave us the description of the nation as ‘an imagined political community,’ (1) Nehru had constructed a nationalist history through which he wanted to ‘discover’ India.
This attempt to discover India broadly meant two kinds of questions for Nehru. The first kind was: ‘What is this India...? What did she represent in the past...? Does she represent anything vital now...? How does she fit into the modern world?’(2) Here, India appears to be empty of content except historical time, almost waiting for Nehru’s re-presentation to give it a shape and dress it up for modernity. The other kind of question for Nehru was: ‘Did I know India?’(3) Here the self is seized by a self-doubt which only the knowledge about India can erase. Both the first and objective part of Nehru’s desire to discover India as well as the second and subjective part involves a similar problem: that of re-presentation. India has to be re-presented by meanings which would bring it into a being which the self can relate to (in Nehru’s case, also rule!). The question of re-presentation itself hinged upon Nehru’s overall desire to make India put on ‘the garb of modernity’.(4)
Let us further read how Nehru engages with the idea of the Indian nation in The Discovery of India to place certain moments of the text in the overall perspective. We propose to show that Nehru does not strictly define or re-present India in nationalist terms. The aim here is also to show that, just as Stuart Hall has pointed out how the notion of ‘The West’ is also ‘an idea, a concept,’(5) Nehru’s concept of ‘India’ is also a representational mode which seeks an independent classification, and not the borrowed generality of being an ‘Orient’. But unlike the voyages of discovery of the globe and its subsequent domination by Europe, which brought forth the entire discourse of Orientalism, Nehru’s is an inward voyage. It was also a voyage which, unlike the dominant sociological attitude of Western civilization, is based upon a historical self-seeking discourse of meaning. Hence, Nehru’s discovery bears the crucial marks of resistance and self-evolution against this sociologi-cal (and not the philosophical) West, which created the representational narrative of the East and the West.
The Mexican poet-critic Octavio Paz described Nehru as one who ‘belonged to a double anti-tradition.’(6) Educated at Harrow and Cambridge, Nehru developed close links with European culture and, as Paz points out, ‘drew inspiration from the rebellious and heterodox thought of the West.’(7) On the other hand, Nehru’s other lineage is traced by Paz back to his ancestors who ‘had frequented the Mogul court and had absorbed Persian and Arabic heritage,’ and to his family tradition from which he had inherited ‘a vein of heterodoxy vis-à-vis Hindu traditionalism.’(8) Though, by his own admission, India was in Nehru’s ‘blood’, he ‘approached her like an alien critic,’ and ‘(t)o some extent... came to her via the West.’(9) This unique predicament of a cultural identity, which is part insider and part outsider, undergoes a partial sense of apology. It is also inflicted upon them by so-called ‘culturally rooted’ people, who force them, in the words of Bauman, ‘to prove the legality of their presence.’(10) The demand for such legality is cultural in nature, and throws open a debate about the relationship between culture, history and ethics. Colonialism further intervenes in this debate in a complicated manner.
Interestingly, the first issue Nehru takes up with regard to the colonial issue is the writing of history:
History is almost always written by the victors and conquerors and gives their viewpoint; or, at any rate, the victors’ version is given prominence and holds the field. Very probably, all the early records we have of the Aryans in India, their epics and traditions, glorify the Aryans and are unfair to the people of the country whom they subdued. No individual can wholly rid himself of his racial outlook and cultural limitations and, when there is conflict between races and countries, even an attempt at impartiality is considered a betrayal of one’s people.... The overpowering need of the moment is to justify one’s own actions and condemn and blacken those of the enemy.(11)
So Nehru accounts for the inherent biases behind colonial history. What about nationalist historiography?
‘Indians’, he wrote, ‘are peculiarly liable to accept tradition and report as history, uncritically and without sufficient examination.’(12) But ‘the impact of science and the modern world have brought a greater appreciation of facts, a more critical faculty, a weighing of evidence, a refusal to accept tradition merely because it is tradition.’(13) However, Nehru is quick to point out that many ‘competent historians... err on the other side and their work is more a meticulous chronicle of facts than living history.’(14) He does not explain what this living history would be, but elsewhere he speaks of the need for a ‘living philosophy’ which should not remain ‘unconnected with the day-to-day problems of life and the needs of men and women.’(15) We can read it as an understanding of history which takes into account present-day issues and how these issues re-orient our need to re-examine the past and come out with new perspectives. This is precisely what Nehru himself undertakes to do in The Discovery of India, which is unique in its attempt to look at the past in the light of present-day concerns. In this way, we find Nehru trying to grasp how ‘nationalist’ historiography might come to address what Benedict Anderson calls the ‘philosophical poverty’ of nationalism.(16) In an Indian writing of history, Nehru would definitely not be in favour of a right-wing glorification of the past. He would also steer away from the Orientalist notions about India’s cultural attributes and, for that very reason, would not hesitate to call India both ‘metaphysical’ and ‘religious’, as well as highlighting the traditions of reason in the philosophies of the past.
Let us now turn to how Nehru makes a distinction between British colonialism and the baggage of modernity:
The impact of western culture on India was the impact of a dynamic society, a ‘modern’ consciousness, on a static society wedded to medieval habits of thought which, however sophisticated and advanced in its own way, could not progress because of its inherent limitations. And, yet, curiously enough the agents of this historic process, were not only wholly unconscious of their mission in India, but, as a class, actually represented no such process. In England, their class fought this historic process but the forces opposed to them were too strong and could not be held back. In India, they had a free field and were successful in applying the brakes to that very change and progress, which, in the larger context, they represented.... If change came it was in spite of them or as an incidental and unexpected consequence of their activities. (17)
We are again faced with a narrative, which sounds close to the colonial narrative on India. After all, British colonialists justified the ideological content of their rule through the dichotomy between the ‘dynamic’ and the ‘static’. But again, we have to make a difference between Nehru’s perspective and the colonialist’s. The colonialist presented the dichotomy as part of their grand narrative of colonialism. Nehru’s observation is analytical and critical. It fundamentally counters the colonial narrative by positing liberation against domination, even if faced with similar perspectives regarding the state of Indian society. It raises a crucial question, whether representation of a certain kind automatically opens up justifications for domination. The relationship between representation and domination includes the question of intentionality and agency. In Nehru’s case, the thematic of the intentional object, the Indian ‘nation’, is represented in a self-critical as well as self-evolutionary manner, dissolving the Orientalist dichotomy between the East and the West in ethnocentric and essentialist terms, as has been pointed out. The notion of agency works, in Nehru’s case, through this anti-colonial consciousness that is ideological, without however being relativistic about choices. It means, in Nehru, the idea of choices is not bound by a historical antagonism but rather open to a plurality where the merits of choices are made out of the rational position of one’s own subjective freedom with regard to choices. In this, the question of power is seen to be not holding authority either over `one’s subjective position or over the way choices are made. Hence, the idea of cross-cultural choices is always a rational possibility in Nehru. Intentionality, in this context, itself grants autonomy to choices made from within the forms of interaction between western knowledge and Indian predicaments. We cannot look at the question of autonomy ‘outside’ the interaction between the West and India, unless we are being ethnocentric. Partha Chatterjee calls the ideology of Indian nationalist discourse inauthentic because of its lack of autonomy. (18)
But autonomy is always the autonomy to choose, and if values are not ethnocentric, then the choice of values need not be based on an ethnocentric difference of power as well. What is being argued here is that any subject position cannot be presupposed either as an inauthenticity or within a privileged space of autonomy with regard to choices as autonomy itself arises out of one’s ability to choose prior to value judgments against it. In other words, it is against the intentionality of someone else’s intentions that one chooses to make oneself autonomous. We cannot choose outside this situation and therefore to call a discourse inauthentic becomes an absolutist argument. Between ethnocentrism and an a priori notion of universalism lie what Michael Walzer calls ‘reiterative universality’.(19)
However, once the provincial thought of Europe becomes universal philosophy it confronts in its universality the heterogeneity of cultures, and for that very reason, the definitive aspects of culture re-orients the norm of universality into a plural discourse. The nation-state need not be taken as a ‘single determinate form’ of community, but it is also important to note that a certain history has forced cultures within the construction of a nation to negotiate its issues within a nationalist framework. The nation as an ‘imagined community’ does rest upon a plural cultural discourse of localities. Since the nature of modernity was similar ‘from the outside’, a singular frame of reference did form against which cultures responded in various manners. In this, the economic nature of modernity, which coincides with capitalism, indeed turned out to be a homogenizing problem. But at the level of cultural identities, the problem was different: taking culture to be as definitive as capital, we find the issue of modernity breaking up into two, namely, the problem of capitalism and of culture. The ‘politics’ of the state, if not its statute, and the cultural aspects which form the nature of that politics, have more or less retained their local forms in India. They coincide. Modernity has forced communities to negotiate under a new paradigm. Democracy has brought in a new equation to the power discourse within communities, where the suppressed can speak, and it is impossible for modernity not to have left its mark on this very possibility of cultures to address the question of power within itself as well as in their relationship with the state. Modernity has opened up ‘new spaces’ within communities, where a group for example is not necessarily at an advantage against an individual. Here, a chasm between the language of demands and the language of the state is bound to appear. This chasm appears precisely because the language of demands would be more rooted in an emergent cultural manner of articulation whereas the state would try to put them into a more generalized language of laws where principles would be formed both out of negotiation as well as certain a priori directions of political rule.
Let us look into some key aspects and moments of Nehru’s politics. We begin with Nehru’s language during the negotiations of the ‘Partition’. Let’s look at the changeover in Nehru’s words within eight days in April 1946. On the 5th of April, Nehru states:
Congress is not going to agree to the Muslim League’s demand for Pakistan under any circumstances (my italics) whatsoever, even if the British Government agrees to it. Nothing on earth (my italics), not even (the United Nations Organization), is going to bring about the Pakistan which Jinnah wants. (20)
On the 13th of April, Nehru had this to say: ‘(I am) prepared to view with respect (my italics) a demand for Pakistan if it is made after (my italics) the freedom of the country has been achieved.’ (21)
The question for Nehru, in this rhetorical game of politics, was a desperate bid to push back the contentious issue of partition till freedom is bought by a sleight-of-hand shadow playing with the Muslim League’s demand. But apart from this crisis of political contingency which forced both sides to play with words, what is at issue here is on what principles Nehru, on one hand, regards partition as impossible to accept out of ideological and ethical reasons, having rejected the communal idea of a nation based on religious identity and, on the other hand, accepts ‘with respect’ the possibility of the same at a later date. It makes his desire for independence appear to be highly instrumentalist, being made an issue of political bargaining in the core.
The basic attitude with which the Congress faced the issue of 'Partition' is best summed up by this statement of Nehru: The Congress was prepared to do anything within the bounds of reason (my italics) to remove fear and suspicion from the mind of any Province or community, but it felt itself unable to endorse (any suggestion that) went against the ‘basic method of democracy’ on which (it) hoped to build up (a) constitution.(22)
There are four aspects at work in this statement: the element of reason, the fears of a community, the ‘method’ of democracy, and the making of a consti-tution. All these four aspects have been fused together. There immediately arise certain conceptual questions at the level of politics. Firstly: Can fears of a community merely be handled through reason? Does the democratic method solely rest on reason? How can a constitution be envisaged and worked out a priori till the issues between communities are not yet settled? Nehru leaves these questions unanswered or, rather, fails to answer them.
In The Discovery of India, Nehru however saw reason playing second fiddle to the issue of 'Partition' and the relation between Hindu and Muslim communities:
It is clear that any real settlement must be based on the goodwill of the constituent elements and on the desire of all parties to it to cooperate together for a common objective. In order to gain that, any sacrifice in reason is worthwhile (my italics). Every group must not only be theoretically and actually free and have equal opportunities of growth, but should have the sensation of freedom and equality.(23)
Nehru obviously did not seem to believe in this as his later remarks show. Power politics, or whatever else the constriction, had finally replaced principles of belief with the principle of reason. Instead of reason, what was sacrificed finally was the unity of the country and the relation between communities.
When India was partitioned as a nation, a new political destiny was also forced upon areas which were still not ‘India’. These were the five hundred ‘Princely States’, ruled by medieval monarchs. They were acceded into the Indian Union after Independence. Notable ones include Kashmir, Manipur, Tripura, Junagadh and Hyderabad. The relationship these Princely States shared with the British was exclusive in the sense that some of them were under the protection of the British Empire and were granted a relative autonomy of sovereign rule. When the question of merger arrived after India’s Independence, these States were co-opted by sleight-of-hand procedures, pressure tactics, and force.
Take the case of Kashmir. After Maharaja Hari Singh was finally persuaded to accede to India, Nehru promised plebiscite. Suspicions about the only Kashmiri Muslim leader India could bank upon led Nehru to arrest Sheikh Abdullah unceremoniously in 1953 after releasing him from jail earlier for the same cause. Nehru’s promises and decisions played contradictory politics. Nehru was obsessed about not losing Kashmir. Pakistan’s designs on Kashmir became a perpetual excuse to delay and deny plebiscite. Nehru first insisted on taking the Kashmir issue to the United Nations (UN). The Security Council adopted the Resolution 122 of January 24, 1957, that both India and Pakistan will ensure ‘the final disposition of the state of Jammu and Kashmir... in accordance to the will of the people (to be) expressed through the democratic method (my italics) of a free and impartial plebiscite conducted under the auspices of the United Nations.’ The fact that such a plebiscite has never taken place is plain enough. The political question however arises: How can a ‘democratic method’ be applied to a situation where a democratic mindset is missing? In fact, every democracy at any stage should be able to answer the question where State power refuses or stalls particular democratic proceedings out of justifications which lie outside the ambit of democratic principles. If the question is about safe-guarding one’s ‘frontiers’ against perceived threats of whatever kind, the relationship between democracy and the frontier should be spelt out.
There are further questions in the matter. How can any democratic method in any historical situation of dispute be carried out until the dispute itself has been addressed democratically? How can the phobia and obsession of a Prime Minister be expected to be democratic? In his telegram to Prime Minister Liaquat Ali Khan on October 31, 1947, Nehru wrote: Our assurance that we shall withdraw our troops from Kashmir as soon as (my italics) peace and order are restored and leave the decision about the future of the State to the people of the State was conditioned with a promise of plebiscite, which was repeated, by high-level leaders as well as Indian representatives in the United Nations.(24)
Here again we find an assurance held at bay by the condition of ‘peace and order’. How can the presence of troops be a good premise to bring peace and order? If civil-society lives under the shadow of armed men, is not peace and order being bought by fear and uncertainty? Is this the precondition of democratic methods?
In fact, Nehru’s intentions about granting plebiscite to Kashmir gets clearer from this statement he wrote to a correspondent:
When Kashmir acceded to India in October 1947, there was no mention of plebiscite by India. What India said was that the people of Jammu and Kashmir would be consulted. The first mention of plebiscite came long afterwards in a resolution of the U.N. Commission, which we accepted. That resolution contained various conditions to be fulfilled before the question of plebiscite came up. Among these conditions was the withdrawal of the Pakistan forces.(25)
It is now clear that the premise of peace and order was Nehru’s tactical device to postpone plebiscite. Nehru makes it sound like generosity on India’s part to accept the demand for plebiscite. The issue is taken out of its political principles which Nehru should have stood for. Finally, the whole issue came down to the presence of Pakistan’s forces. Military reasons regarding a political dispute takes any political problem into the realm of territorial control. Are border states forever going to suffer this game between States to turn them into hostile zones out of their own interests and in the process, not only militarize a border but also an entire population living in the shadow of guns?
The case of Kashmir brings us to the communal issue in India: The issue of the rift between the Hindu and Muslim communities. Nehru was absolutely sanguine about religious tolerance in Indian society, which was more a case of social ethics as practised between communities, rather than a political problem, which was always the work of communal animosity. As he says in The Discovery of India:
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.(26)
So, according to Nehru, the problem of culture in the field of politics is mainly about the granting of its protection. By itself culture cannot form an ideology of conflict that can be progressive about its demands, as whatever problem is not strictly economic, cannot be termed progressive in Nehru’s conception. Questions of ‘difference’ cannot raise politically viable issues for Nehru. For him, protection of cultural rights is enough for all purposes, taking into account the already existing (taken for granted) tolerance between religious groups.
However, at the time when partition and the riots actually happen, Nehru, who had become the Prime Minister, says on October 3, 1947:
India had for thirty years been drilled into non-violence by Mahatma Gandhi. Why, then, suddenly did violence break out in the country?(27)
On the face of it, this bemusement sounds inexplicable. Having ignored the signs of repeated communal violence, which has been happening in parts of India during the 1920s and 1930s, and having treated the issue trivially in his overall scheme of things, Nehru was then faced with an event he had no answer for. India was always sitting over a communal earthquake; but Nehru’s modernist optimism was veered towards economic structures and social progress. It was not as if his fundamental concerns did not deserve utmost attention. It certainly did, but the language of change had to be more entrenched with respect to the cultural psyche of the population. Not to address cultural issues in the political sphere amounted to a big disaster which proved itself during partition. The individualist thrust in Nehru’s understanding of society together with his suspicious and restless attitude towards cultural groups did not help quell the many political aspirations of religious and other groups. The statist language of protection and reservation was not merely what marginalized groups were seeking. Political power was a core issue among groups and to treat it as narrow was certainly an elitist bias on Nehru’s part. It also smacked of dishonesty, because Nehru himself was interested in political power for the sake of bringing about his own method of changes in society. In fact, even though one finds Nehru’s cultural idea of India to be pluralistic, his political idea of the nation was distinctly individualist and unitarian. The Kashmir issue was Nehru’s litmus test, but he refused to either accept the communal problem for what it was and, at the same time, help the Kashmiri people project a communitarian voice against the oppressions of State rule.
We can further compare Nehru’s attitude with cultural groups in other parts of the country. We take here as example, the particular response Nehru made to the issue of the Nagas. It is well known that the Indian Constitution borrowed generously from the Government of India Act 1935. Colonial laws and ordinances became specially handy after Independence whenever the question of ‘security’ became paramount to the Indian Government. A colonial mindset was particularly visible in the case of the Assam Disturbed Areas Act (ADA), 1955, a predecessor to the more draconian Armed Forces Special Powers Act of 1958. The ADA Act was passed by the Assam Assembly to meet the threats posed by the late A.Z. Phizo-led Naga insurgency. It had followed the guidelines set by an ordinance passed by the colonial government in August 1942. Ironically, the 1942 ordinance was passed to counter the opposition to the war effort by the Congress Party. The Congress, in turn, decided upon the same law for its frontier States. On February 20, 1947, Naga National Council (NNC) sent a memorandum to Lord Mountbatten, the then Viceroy of India, requesting His Majesty’s Government for setting up of an interim government for the Naga people for a period of ten years, at the end of which the Naga people would be left to choose any form of government under which to live. In response to Naga demand, Jawaharlal Nehru remarked:
I consider freedom very precious. I am sure that the Nagas are as free as I am bound by all sorts of laws; the Nagas are not to the same extent bound by such laws and are governed by their customary laws and usages. But the Independence the Nagas are after is something quite different from individual or group freedom. In the present context of affairs, both in India and in the world, it is impossible to consider even for a moment, such an absurd demand for Independence of the Nagas. It is doubtful whether the Nagas realize the consequences of what they are asking for. For their present demand would ruin them.(28)
So we come to the limits of Nehru’s liberal generosity. The discourse of the nation forecloses any discourse which challenges it against its own grounds. The idea of India cannot be touched. Only issues of group and individual rights and freedom can be raised within the ambit of the nationalist State. The issue of the Nagas being ‘absurd’ means the issue has gone beyond ‘reason’. Nehru’s loose and amorphous idea of India is bounded by a strict idea of reason, which is also the idea of the State. The Nagas don’t realize the consequences of their actions, according to Nehru, who re-presents the overall wisdom of the nation. But if matters demanded a more stringent answer, Nehru could be even more straightforward:
There can be no doubt that an armed revolt has to be met by force and suppressed. There are no two opinions about that and we shall set about it as efficiently and effectively as possible. But our whole past and present outlook is based on force by itself being no remedy. We have repeated this in regard to the greater problems of the world. Much more... when dealing with our own countrymen who have to be won over and not merely suppressed.(29)
Effective and efficient ways of reason would finally justify the limits of Nehru’s nation-state. Winning over people demands a range of measures, politically, starting with the aesthetics of charm and ending in the realm of force. In between lies a whole new ball game politely called negotiations. Nehru has been known for his penchant to equip himself with wide-ranging options on any issue; and it is particularly interesting to find him cornered in this case.
Amidst a growing anti-Nehru intellectual climate of the nineties, Sunil Khilnani came out with a book which would have pleased Nehruvians. The book tries to recreate and re-present Nehru’s ‘idea’ of India with a very eloquently and persuasively written essay. What Nehru had sought to do in his book The Discovery of India was more fundamental: to re-present ‘an idea, a dream and a vision’ (30) of India itself! Khilnani’s book, in turn, sought to remind us how Nehru’s imagination of the nation is worth the principles it evokes. This book by Khilnani—The Idea of India—is however not my point of interest in this essay. I mention it to categorically state that such attempts at Nehruvianizing the ‘idea of India’ is to categorically centralize Nehru’s imagination over the nation’s own plural reality. Such attempts serve neither a political nor an ethical purpose besides adding more platitudes to values which are taken for granted rather than interrogated.
In fact, the problems which arise within Nehru’s attempt to discover his nation are justified by narratives like Khilnani’s. India is not living out of Nehru’s text. In fact we have seen instances when India has lived out of and against Nehru’s text and politics. Nehru had marked an important battle against colonialism. But his responses to the challenges within the country during and after Independence evoked paradoxically confused as well as harsh responses. It would be worthwhile to bring in what Nehru had to say on nationalism. He writes:
[N]ationalism is good in its own place but it is an unreliable friend and unsafe historian. It sometimes distorts the truth, especially when it concerns us or our country.(31)
The ‘unsafe historian’ in Nehru is highlighted paradoxically on occasions when he rigidly tries to keep the idea of India intact against serious challenges. He was highly impatient of whatever problems were not addressed under the rubric of his nationalist agendas of change and development. In spite of his having given culture an important place in the history of India, he failed to politically negotiate with aspects of various cultural demands. After analyzing Nehru’s ideas against some of the key issues of nationalism in India, I wonder what Kaviraj’s statement means! Perhaps he meant creating different versions of India as a challenge against what it throws up.
2. Jawaharlal Nehru, The Discovery of India, (New Delhi: OUP), 1964, p. 49.
3. Ibid., p. 50.
4. Ibid., p. 50.
5. Stuart Hall (ed.), ‘The West and the Rest’, Modernity: An Introduction to Modern Societies, (London: Routledge), 1996, p. 186.
6. Octavio Paz, Nehru: Man of Two Cultures & One World, (New Delhi: Indian National Commission for Cooperation with UNESCO), 1967, pp. 15–6.
7. Ibid., pp.15–6.
8. Ibid., pp. 15–6.
9. Jawaharlal Nehru, The Discovery of India, op. cit., p. 50.
10. Zgmunt Bauman, ‘Parvenu and Pariah: Heroes and victims of modernity’, Irving Velody (ed.), The Politics of Postmodernity, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 1998, p. 26.
11. Jawaharlal Nehru, The Discovery of India, op. cit., p. 289.
12. Ibid., p. 104.
13. Ibid., p. 102–03.
14. Ibid., p. 103.
15. Ibid., p. 31.
16. Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities, (London: Verso), 1983, p. 5.
17. Ibid., p. 291.
18. Partha Chatterjee, Nationalist Thought and the Colonial World: A Derivative Discourse? (Delhi: OUP), 1986, p. 39.
19. Yale Tamir, Liberal Nationalism, (Princeton: Princeton University Press), 1993, p. 90.
20. Dorothy Norman, (ed.), Nehru: The First Sixty Years, Vol. 2, (Bombay: Asia Publishing House), 1965, p. 25.
21. Ibid., p. 25.
22. Ibid., p. 24.
23.Jawaharlal Nehru, The Discovery of India, op. cit., p. 530.