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This is an archive article published on January 11, 2004

Left with Liberals

A wit once said that socialism was like a hat, it acquired whatever shape one wanted it to — and a socialist was one who so described h...

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A wit once said that socialism was like a hat, it acquired whatever shape one wanted it to — and a socialist was one who so described himself. The same fate has befallen liberalism — Modern Hegelians such as Francis Fukuyama and Third Way messiah Anthony Giddens both call themselves liberals. It is for this reason that the title of Ramachandra Guha’s collection of essays at first makes one uneasy. But not for long.

Guha, best known for his outstanding biography of Verrier Elwin and a riveting social history of Indian cricket, pins his colours to the mast in an all-too-brief introductory essay, in which he describes himself as a Nehruvian Indian. Aside from the descriptives usually attached to a Nehruvian outlook, such as secularism, Guha adds a few other traits — personal integrity, social commitment, and a mindset (if one can call it that) which is liberal. To be liberal in the Nehruvian sense, as Guha interprets it, is to have an outlook which can accommodate others and their conflicting viewpoints, without compromising on one’s integrity.

But in Nehru is also the spirit of Gandhi, the spirit that the great Sovietologist Robert Conquest described in a letter to Guha as being civilized. And part of Gandhi’s legacy is spiritual. Not in the ritualistic sense, but in a more personal nature, where it illumines the common bonds of humanity, and engenders broadmindedness in people.

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This is not to say that Guha is an uncritical admirer of Nehru. Far from it: ‘‘I myself think his economic policy moderately flawed, his neglect of primary education shocking, his dismissal of the Communist government in Kerala unfortunate, and his underestimation of China and the Chinese tragic.’’ But overall, he posits Nehruvian Indianism (awkward sounding, that) against what he perceives to be an onslaught on these values by the forces of irredentist Hindutva. And here, no quarter is to be given. In Guha’s eyes, the choice is between a progressive India, or an irretrievably divided one.

The book has been neatly divided into two, with People and Places being followed by Literature and Life. And in varying degrees, explicitly or otherwise, each essay exemplifies the Nehruvian Indian project, through the lives of those who best lived it, or places and events which echo the ideal — or don’t — like Stalin. Guha brings alive Rajaji, showing how he was supportive of, but never subservient to, Gandhi. He brings before us environmentalist Chandi Prasad Bhatt, scientist Satish Dhawan, publisher Sujit Mukherjee, and describes the impact they had through their personal example. The Last Liberal is the late historian Dharma Kumar — in this fine essay, Guha demonstrates why Kumar was a Liberal with a capital L. But the best essays are on the lack of a tradition of writing biographies in South Asia, one on a journal of opinions, and the description of a visit to Sevagram and why it still resonates with the spirit of Gandhi.

The range of Guha’s subjects is wide, the quarrying of knowledge that has surely taken place is deep, and the prose combines these two characteristics to make reading a pleasure and educative. The tone that runs through the essays is that of a person who believes that people and ideas matter; but that people matter more than empty shibboleths. It is a tone that by turns can be admiring, critical, exasperated, thoughtful, passionate, even a little angry at times. But never despairing, bitter or downcast. Just like Nehru.

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