Current Topics

THE ROYAL COMMISSION

To convert an enemy into a friend is a fairly hard task in life. But to convert a friend into an enemy must real1y be a harder business. We do not know why the latter should be done, yet we have seen in our own day and with our own eyes, how the British statesmen have transformed the sedate and loyal friends of the Montford era into unwilling, but none the less unyielding, enemies of Government. This is the achievement that to-day stands to the credit of the "Irwin-Head" era. There is an adage that when the day of destiny arrives, the powers of the mind go amiss. And just as India has become divided, distracted and desperate, the Royal Commission has visited this ancient land and united the scattered forces under one command. The situation that has developed out of the activities of the Royal Commission is nothing surprising. For, unity is a factor that must be invoked only in an hour of need. People do not worship unity for the sake of unity. Unity in times of peace implies a certain lassitude of mind, yea, a certain torpidity of spirit. The best of thought develops only on a repurcussion of ideas. The razor and the whetstone may maintain perfect amity between them by not coming into contact or conflict with each other. Likewise, flint and steel may pursue the gospel of 'live and let live' and put on an air of perfect peace. It is only when there is impact between them,—gentle or furious—that they live to a purpose. That impact is not a disruptive force, but a step or stage in the struggle for self-realisation. Even so, the schools of political thought in India have each had its own pet theories, schemes of agitation, and ideals. In the hour of need, however, they have come into contact, their activities have coalesced, and they have evolved a common plan of action. They stand united. In diversity, unity is always dormant. The changing situations in life transform the dormant or the potential into the kinetic.

The political situation that has developed during the past six months has really a psychological interest for us. It has a historic ground doubtless behind itself, but it behoves us to study the problem in its academic aspect. So recently as in 1919, people in India were rushing for pass ports, and politicians were over-reaching one another in order to get at the all-too-limited permits and passages allowed to deputations before the Joint Parliamentary Committee of the Montford days, in London. Why is it then that when a Joint Parliamentary Committee visits Delhi and comes to your very doors, the politicians do not care to hob-nob with the members thereof. They are sullen and stand aloof and avoid all approach to, or association with, Sir John Simon and his colleagues. Even Sir John Simon, we dare say, knows inwardly that Bezawada must have more castes and communities than the fifty Viswakarmas that accorded him welcome, that the Metropolis of the Presidency cannot be wholly populated by the Depressed Classes and the officials. The events at Guntur constitute a chapter by themselves, and; the spontaneous hartal in Madras after the display of force by Government and the countermanding orders by the Working Committee, deserves to be pondered over by the President of the Royal Commission. Surely, it cannot be said that these demonstrations are all effected by intimidation as Sir Richard Craddock would fain believe, nor is government so indulgent and idealistic as to permit popular leaders to exercise force upon the public; much to the detriment of its own prestige in this country. To-day, the most avowed opponents of the Royal Commission are the men that worked—and worked at a sacrifice, the Montford Reforms for seven years. Nor is it a small matter that the Assembly and the Councils of Madras, C. P. and U. P. should have declared for boycott of the Commission. All this has a tale to tell. India is no longer willing to be led, tied down to England's apron strings, but is able to stand on her own feet and evolve her own constitution. This is what she demands. Nothing more would she desire, nothing less would she accept.

THE RESERVE BANK

In all self-governing countries, currency and coinage are regulated not by the State but by private Banking Institutions. The earliest representatives of these Banks in the West were goldsmiths who had originally conceived the idea of 'note' issue and put the idea into force. Later came the Banks, and the Banks have been specially chartered to do this duty. A Bank of this character, though ostensibly non-official in structure, must in the very nature of things, have a good deal to do with government. In self-governing countries, there is no conflict of interest between the People and the State and accordingly the line of demarkation between a State Bank and a Shareholders' Bank is hazy. Not so in India. Here the State has hitherto been regulating note issue and coinage. The Government of India, politicians have been contending, is merely the Managing Directorate of British world—commercialism. In a sense, it is the political front in India of British capitalists. In this view, the Indian feeling is always one of suspicion and distrust towards the acts of commission and omission of the Government of India. Why is not the Paper Currency Reserve kept in India? Why should the Gold Standard Reserve be in London? Why should both these, which once amounted to 160 crores of rupees, be lent out to British merchants at 2 or 3 per cent while the Government of India is always borrowing at 4 to 6 per cent? Why should the persistent recommendations of successive Currency Commissions and of authorities like Sir Daniel Hamilton to transfer these reserves to India be wilfully neglected? Why should Reverse Councils have been sold soon after war and the Reserves which were accumulated (purchased) at Is. 4d.ratio (or Rs. IS per sovereign) have been depleted (sold) at 2s. I0d. ratio (Rs. 7-6-0 per sovereign) and in the result, a sum of 60 crores of rupees have been wiped out in a trice? All these, though seemingly intricate, are really simple problems, because they are approached by the Bureaucracy from the standpoint of England, not of India. They show the conflict of interests between the two Nations.

Nor does Sir Basil Blackett maintain any unnecessary secrecy about these matters. For, what is the meaning of his oft-repeated statement that the Reserve Bank Bill is meant by Government to confer upon India financial Swaraj? Already India, we have been informed by the Liberal protagonists of Mr. Montagu, enjoys fiscal Swaraj by the Montford Reforms. For, did not the Joint Committee Report say that where the Indian Central Legislature and the Government of India have agreed in regard to Tariffs the Secretary of State would not object, unless he considered that any proposed measure militated against the interests of the Empire? Why then are the Indians—representing all shades and schools of political thought and economic interest-so obtuse as not to couple Sir Basil Blackett's financial swaraj with Montagu's fiscal autonomy and build up an India, self-contained, self-reliant, and self satisfying? The points at issue are few and clear. Indeed they are only two in number. The Indians want a State Bank, Sir Basil offers a Shareholders' Bank. The Indians want a place for the Legislatures on the Directorate of the Bank, Sir Basil would not concede it. All the battles royal,—the Select Committee deliberations, the Viceroy's intercession, the give and take tactics, the ultimate compromise in Delhi—centred round these two points in the main. Various shifts were devised at various times. Now Sir Basil said it was to be a Shareholders' Bank, then it was to be a Debenture-holders' Bank. But the people would not look at it until a compromise was reached on the basis of adequate representation on the Directorate to the Legislatures. When everything was on its way to a fruition and fulfilment, Whitehall countermanded the Indian compromise, and Sir Basil, it is an open secret, tendered his resignation. Thereupon he went home and had conversations with the Secretary of State.

Sir Basil returned with a new edition of the Reserve Bank Bill in his pocket. By it the privileges of the Imperial Bank were abridged and the preferential quantum of shares allotted to them was withdrawn. Shares, from one to fifty, were thrown open to anyone in India and the structure was planned on a democratic basis. But a constitutional difficulty arose. The old Bill was not withdrawn. It was merely 'not proceeded with.' Thus while the old measure was before the House, the new one had to be, and was, introduced. The old could not be withdrawn except with the leave of the House, but the House would not give the leave as the Bill was hammered out on the most popular basis in the Joint Select Committee. Sir Basil took courage in both hands and begged leave to introduce the new Bill over the head of the old, but President Patel also took courage in both hands and declined the leave asked for. Nothing daunted, Sir Basil decided to resume the old measure, and taking advantage of the absence of the infernal Congressmen from the Assembly, began a rapid march. An early skirmish brought him victory as anticipated, but in the meantime the enemy ranks mustered strength, and in anticipation of authority being granted by the Working Committee, attended and beat Sir Basil Blackett and turned down the amendment to clause VIII. It is this clause that gives three places to the members of the Central Legislature and two to the members of the 'Legislative Councils of Governors' Provinces, in the Directorate of the Reserve Bank. Thus Government have been beaten at a vital point. And they ascribe their defeat to the huff into which the Congressmen have got in connection with the Simon Boycott. Accordingly they have decided not to proceed with the Bill, and for the time being, the wrecking tactics of Congressmen have gained a signal victory.

A SWARAJ CONSTITUTION

Whether a constitution should be drawn up by a Professor or a Politician is perhaps not so debatable a point as that other point,—namely, why a constitution need be drawn up at all just now for India. Professors may be well up in their knowledge of the constitutions of the world, but only politicians know which constitution suits their country and conditions best. As for the time that is appropriate for the purpose, there may exist more than one opinion. If, as is said, the whole of India is for boycotting the Simon Commission, why then, people may ask, all this ado about. constitution-making? The answer is simple. Apparently the boycotters take their stand upon the right of self-determination. It may be that this principle receives its advocacy from its votaries in various degrees. Some would call it self-determination, if the Royal Commission had on its personnel an equal or unequal number of Indians. Not a few would be satisfied with equal rights and opportunities for the select committees of the Legislatures. Many would perhaps demand a consultation between equals, as against an examination amongst unequals. Whatever that be, self-determination in an attenuated or an exacerbated measure is the principle that holds the field and shapes the national attitude at this moment. If that is so, the nation must at any moment be prepared to show that it can shape its own destiny, however rough-hewn it may be.

Thus, to be able to formulate the outlines of self-government that we would like to have in the near future, on an agreed basis, is really to draft our own constitution. If the nation can evolve an agreed scheme, stating whether the Central Government shall be Unitary or Federal, whether the Central and Provincial Governments should be composed of Unicameral or Bicameral legislatures, which subjects should be provincial and which central, how long should England take or India allow for the transition from the present 'dependent' condition to the future 'independent' condition, how the Hindus and the Moslems should compose their small differences both political and religious and live in a spirit of comradeship, what exactly is the manner in which the other communal rivalries may be composed and solved, how wide or how narrow the franchise may be—if this and a few allied points can be settled, then we shall have given an answer,—a fitting and final answer, to the challenge, proud and pettifogging, but really pusillanimous, of Lord Birkenhead and the Imperialists of his ilk. We are therefore not a little glad that the devoted labours of the sons and daughters of India are bearing rapid fruit in Delhi, and we offer our humble but warm congratulations to the Committee on the steady and substantial progress that is being made from week to week.

S. P.

THE MAHARAJAH OF NABHA

The sudden arrest and deportation of His Highness Maharajah Gurucharan Singh of Nabha on the 19th of February last at Allahabad, raises a question of the highest constitutional importance. So far as we are aware, this is the first instance in which a Maharajah, who in the euphemistic language of the Political Department of the Government of India, 'had consented to abdicate' has not only been deprived of his status and powers as a Ruling Prince, but actually taken prisoner in times of peace without being brought up for trial before any legally and duly constituted tribunal. Quite apart from the personal aspect of the matter, the case of the Maharajah involves a question of far-reaching importance to the Ruling Princes of India. Their position, which has at all times been anomalous, is rendered still more so by the claim which the Government of India have now put forward in the case of the Maharajah to the enforcement of Regulation III of 1818. A careful examination of the Regulation and the circumstances under which it was passed makes it clear that it could not have been intended to apply to other than British Indian subjects. The Maharajah is in no sense a British Indian subject. Assuming he is not Ruler of Nabha, he has not by virtue of his abdication lost his Nabha domicile, and the application of Regulation III to a foreigner appears to us to be clearly illegal and unwarranted. The appropriate procedure is probably that which is prescribed by the 'Foreigners Act' which empowers the Government only call upon the foreigner to remove himself from British India and it is only in the event of his failing or neglecting do this, that the Government could deprive the person of his liberty till such time as he obeys the order. The Maharajah applied for passports to go to Europe which were not granted so that it is not the Maharajah's fault that he is still here India. To refuse passports to the Maharajah, and then arrest and deport him without trial, is wholly unjustifiable procedure and the legality of the Government of India's action is open to doubt.

The other aspect of the question concerns the status and dignity of the Ruling Princes. As late as 1917, it was recognised by the authors of the Montford Report that there was no satisfactory provision for the determination of cases of alleged misconduct on the part of Ruling Princes. In view of the fact that the Government of India are themselves parties to these disputes in many cases, the authors suggested that the tribunal to go into the merits of these cases should consist of three persons to advise the Viceroy, one of whom at least should be a High Court Judge, and the others to be Ruling Princes. It is to be regretted that this course has not been adopted in this case. The matter is one that deserves the immediate consideration of the Chamber of Princes, as it constitutes an attempt to reduce the Princes to the level of ordinary British Indian subjects and is one so destructive of the few remaining privileges of Ancient Indian Royalty. In view of the fact that the arrest purports to have been made under Regulation III of 1818 which is clearly applicable only to British Indian subjects, the ruling of the President of the Legislative Assembly that the matter was one concerning Government's foreign relations, and hence outside the jurisdiction of the Assembly, is wholly untenable.

V.S.V.

THE 'TAPOVAN'

In the course of his Sir William Meyer Lectures at Madras, Dr. Jadunath Sirkar drew a fascinating picture of the forest universities of Ancient India. But he doubted if in the altered conditions of to-day, it was possible or even desirable to attempt to revive these institutions. He seems to have felt that the ideal of peaceful seminaries ought to give place to that of busy centres of learning, in intimate touch with the active, every-day life of the nation. It might be as difficult to revive the Tapovan as to resuscitate the ideal of Rajanyas performing the Rajasuya and the Aswamedha in triumphant commemoration of heroic deeds. But even in our day, there is much to be said in favour of institutions like the Gurukul, the Santiniketan, and the Jatheeya Kalasala, which while keeping abreast of modern culture, are yet seeking to fulfil in some measure the functions of the Tapovan. Years ago, Dr. Coomaraswami mentioned them as the living symbols of the Indian Renaissance. While a few of them have fallen away from their great ideals, others like the Kashi Vidyapith and the Guzerat Vidyapith have come into existence and are carrying on their noble work with a fixed resolve not to come into line with the regulation schools and colleges. They are establishing educational Swaraj for India in their respective spheres. They have the freedom al ways to experiment and point the way to the future. They are indeed the nurseries of freedom, bright oases in an expansive desert, true guardians of Indian culture. National education under the control of a non-swaraj Government is a contradiction in terms, and Babu Shiv Prasad Gupta of Benares was indeed wise in coupling his munificent donation to the Kashi Vidyapith with a condition that Government grant should never be sought. May such Tapovans live up to their ideals!

K. R.