The Frankish Disease

"Your language is closer to you than your jugular vein."

From where did this piece of wisdom come to this part of the world? It wasn't always there. When the British came, we gladly relinquished our languages and learned English (and still do). Something changed between the time the English arrived and the time they left. They taught us more than 'Jolly good!" and "Old boy": they taught us nationalism.

But not all of us: only the microscopic minority of educated 'monkey-see-monkey-dos' produced by the imperial education system in South Asia.

But nationalism was not all we ingested from the superabundant harvest of western civilisation. There was Marxism, socialism, secularism, democracy….

That these contradictory ideas could lodge in a single head seems extraordinary today, but one must keep in mind the fact that we had been ruled for two hundred years, and rendered incapable of thinking for ourselves.

Take the Middle Eastern expression for nationalism: when it first arrived there, it was known (correctly) as the 'Frankish idea'. The accompanying physical malady that accompanied it was known as the 'Frankish disease'. Now, syphilis has the same effect on the brain as the Frankish and other assorted ideas. Therefore, we were able to accommodate all sorts of opposing ideologies in one diseased brain.

The climax of these intellectual developments, if lunacy can be credited with development, was the 1972 constitution of Bangladesh. Nationalism was part of it; as was nationalisation of all industry in solidarity with the workers of the world (but – heaven forbid – not the nationalisation of land). How Bengali nationalism could appeal to a Czech factory worker was beyond comprehension. The architects of the constitution wished to create a paradise on earth – but for Bengalis only. But 'Bengalis' also designated those living in West Bengal in India. So, Bengali paradise was not for West Bengalis. Yet nationalism reached across the border….In other words, the constitution was a cocktail meant for immediate inebriation.

In fact, one can't blame the pater patriae for kicking over that piece of paper as a colonial-period relic: it was really just that.

A constitution not in keeping with the culture, the 'manners', to use de Tocqueville's expression, of the people must be worth less than the paper it is printed on. Indeed, it is not worth less, but worthless.

Where Failure Pays

Nirad C. Chaudhuri, in his otherwise stimulating article ‘India, West Bengal and East Bengal’  overlooked two leaders who would disprove ‘the fact...that no responsible political or military leader has ever played with the security of his people when military resistance seemed irrational’. They are Napoleon and Nehru.

The French revolutionaries had every reason to fear that their cause would not succeed: they were surrounded by monarchies bent on killing the infant republic in its cradle. By all rational calculations, republicanism was bound to fail. That it did not was largely the work of Napoleon. However, his astonishing military successes were due to that epochal innovation in military history: the National Army – a body of people dedicated to a set of ideas for which they were willing to die by the thousands.

Again, on his return from Elba, Napoleon knew that this time, not only was all Europe against him, but even his own country: he still destroyed 100,000 lives on a personal gamble.

In our own day, we have seen similar revolutionary wars undertaken by a nation covetous of dignity and freedom against – by all rational reckoning – seemingly invincible military might. Vietnam and Iran are the latest examples. As Joseph Conrad said, “It is not the clear-sighted who lead the world; great achievements are carried out in a warm, blessed mental fog.”

Therefore, pace Nirad Chaudhuri, it is not the “fact of the matter that East Bengal Muslims and their leaders did not know the basic principle of seeking or continuing a political conflict when faced with an overwhelming military superiority of the opponent”. The fact of the matter is that there was no revolutionary, national sentiment shared by the whole people. As Mr.Badruddin Umar has observed, the winners of 1971 were the new elite, totally divorced from the aspirations of the people. As Mr.Afsan Chowdhury has pointed out, those villagers who took up arms did so to protect their homes or as a reaction to violence against their villages, not for the ‘nation’.

There is another parallel to the actions of Sheikh Mujib: those of Nehru during the border-conflict with China. Here was a ‘responsible’ political leader who had been advised by diplomats and military experts not to confront China on the battlefield. He chose to ignore them. Nehru refused to negotiate; he was goaded on by the political class; he firmly believed that China would not attack; the army was politicised at the top and  the officers were inefficient.

The very possibility of Chinese retaliation for Indian provocation was rejected. Without a shred of evidence, the Intelligence Bureau endorsed this illogical view; those officers who questioned the assumption were shunted aside to make room for more docile soldiers. And the most docile of them all was General Kaul. The chief of general staff, without any combat command experience, was moved to active command despite the knowledge of his total unsuitability for the post! When General Thapar suggested that China might counter-attack, Nehru said that he had ‘good reason to believe that the Chinese would not take strong action against us’. Soon, the situation was out of his hand – he was a pawn of the powers he had encouraged, both national as well as international.

Therefore, it is not the Bengali Hindu or Bengali Muslim who has 'the disease’, as Nirad Chaudhuri put it. Rather, it appears to be a South Asian trait: intransigence, the inability to accommodate any other point of view but mine, an unrealistic appraisal of the situation – all these qualities are on abundant display in South Asia.  We see them at work in the Kashmir question in India, in the Tamil question in Sri Lanka, and in our own domestic politics in Bangladesh.

However, the real lesson of Nehru’s debacle is different. Despite losing the newly-won freedom of India to China (but for Chinese forbearance), he not only did not resign, there was not a murmur against his continued leadership. Moreover, his daughter and his grandson went on to inherit his position. Similarly, Zulfiquar Ali Bhutto, despite losing half the country, managed to bequeath power to his daughter. The Bandaranaike family, notwithstanding the fact that it was father who started the Tamil-Sinahlase division, managed to keep the prime ministership as well as the presidency simultaneously in the family! Our dynasties have their similar origins in fiascoes and debacles.

The experience of being ruled for several hundred years by foreigners  must have eaten away the intellectual fibre of our elites. Surely, it will take several generations before we start thinking for ourselves, and not let others do our thinking for us. Perhaps 70 years of ‘independence’ is not enough for independent thought. How long before the slave mentality finally disappears?

In South Asia, failure pays.