Jaswant Singh opens up serious and interesting questions, but fails in resolving them

Writing about the politics of Partition in the right register seems impossible. Entrenched ideological commitments, the desire for explanations, the need to apportion blame, and a preoccupation with subtexts make the history almost impossible to write. Writing on Partition also suffers from a peculiarly unimaginative take on human agency. How could anyone in the 1930s and ’40s have imagined what the Indian subcontinent would be like? How do such a complicated and brilliant cast of political characters engage in complex political negotiations? How easy is it to read intentions? What is the relationship between the negotiations of these characters and the complex movements of self and identity brewing on the ground? How do we think of possible counterfactuals: if only Nehru had done “X” or Mountbatten had done “Y”? There has always been a false confidence with which so many historians approach these difficult questions. There is also the wishing away of uncomfortable thoughts. Men acting in good faith can produce unintended consequences; and often two incompatible lines of argument seem to have their own internal integrity. It is easy to argue that Hindus and Muslims were not two nations. It is far more difficult to suggest what framework would have accommodated all possible aspirations. It is far too easy to take a position on should India have been a strong, central state or a weak federation. But it is more difficult to make a knockdown argument for one position or the other. Yet, we write and argue as if all these judgments are so easy. Certainly, none of the characters central to this drama — Jawaharlal Nehru, Mahatma Gandhi, Vallabhbhai Patel or Mohammed Ali Jinnah — ever thought there were easy answers. Their moments of self doubt, hesitation and frustration are a tribute to their seriousness, as much as our encrusted certainties are a reminder of the laziness of our condescension.

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