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GandhiPan-Islamism, Imperialism and Nationalism in India$

B. R. Nanda

Print publication date: 2002

Print ISBN-13: 9780195658279

Published to Oxford Scholarship Online: October 2012

DOI: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195658279.001.0001

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The Balance-Sheet of the Khilafat

The Balance-Sheet of the Khilafat

Chapter:
(p.372) Chapter 20 The Balance-Sheet of the Khilafat
Source:
Gandhi
Author(s):

B. R. Nanda

Publisher:
Oxford University Press
DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780195658279.003.0020

Abstract and Keywords

This chapter discusses the Khilafat movement, which was considered as a deviation from the developments in Muslim politics. It notes that the Muslims were briefly drawn into conventional Indian nationalism during 1920–2, due to the efforts of Gandhi and the non-cooperation movement. It shows how Gandhi became involved in the Khilafat movement—for which he has been blamed for ‘exploiting’ Muslim religious grievances—and tries to explain how Turkey’s fate become an emotional issue for millions of Indian Muslims. It then examines the consequences of the failure of the Khilafat movement on India and Gandhi. The chapter concludes by noting that one of the best ways to unite the Hindu and Muslim communities was through ‘nation-building’.

Keywords:   Khilafat movement, Muslim politics, conventional Indian nationalism, religious grievances, Turkey, nation-building

‘The abolition of the Khilafat,’ the historian Khuda Bakhsh wrote, ‘ends a fiction and ushers in modern as opposed to medieval ideas; it lays open the path for the development of nationalism and removes the embargo on liberalism.’1 Khuda Bakhsh’s optimism was belied by the course of events during the next quarter of a century. The Khilafat movement did not open the path for the development of nationalism, nor did it introduce liberalism into Indian Islam. Thanks to Gandhi and the non-cooperation movement, the Muslim community was drawn into the mainstream of Indian nationalism in 1920–22, but the experience was much too brief and, because the Khilafat bubble was pricked by Turkey, had an unhappy ending. Muslim politics reverted to the well-worn grooves in which they had moved since the establishment of the Muslim League, and indeed since the days of Syed Ahmad Khan. The anti-British feeling quickly subsided; once again the Hindus rather than the British came to be seen by the Muslims as the chief antagonists. The Hindu-Muslim unity of the Khilafat days became a forgotten memory. Indeed, efforts were made to play down the real significance of the Khilafat movement, which came to be represented as an aberration in the develop-ment of Muslim politics.

In his book The Indian Federation, published in 1937, Professor Shafaat Ahmad Khan of Allahabad University, referred to the Khilafat movement as a ‘destructive force, in which subconscious impulses, lofty idealism, youthful indiscretion and desire for power and leadership were mixed in a most incongruous manner’ and which was ‘devoid of constructive thought and Was purely negative in its aims, methods and policy.’2 Dr Mohammad Iqbal, the eminent poet, described the Khilafat movement as ‘an act of foolishness on the part of the Indian Muslims’, and ‘a surrender to the Hindus’. In the nineteen-forties, (p.373) in the propaganda campaign for Pakistan, the Khilafat issue was distorted as a Hindu conspiracy against Indian Islam. Absurd allegations and claims were made; it was suggested that the hijrat movement was a trap cunningly laid by Hindus for unsuspecting Muslims,3 that Gandhi had risen to national leadership on the shoulders of the Ali Brothers, that he had conspired to destroy Aligarh University, the premier Muslim educational institution, that Muslims had borne the brunt of the non-cooperation movement, that Gandhi had called off mass civil disobedience because Muslims were becoming a power in the land.4

We have already noted the circumstances in which Hindu leaders extended their support to the cause of the Khilafat; it really stemmed from the Congress leaders’ eagerness to appease Muslim opinion, and somehow to wean the Muslims from unquestioning loyalty to the Raj. When Jinnah introduced his Wakf Bill in March 1911 in the Imperial Legislative Council, its Hindu members (as the Comrade,5edited by Mohamed Ali, pointed out at the time) ‘supported it more through a desire to be helpful to their compatriots than through a keen appreciation of its merits’. Despite the blatant partisanship of the Government of India in the distribution of seats between the two communities under the Minto—Morley Reforms of 1909, Hindu leaders refrained from reopening the issue inside or outside the legislature. In 1916, the Indian National Congress abandoned its principled stand on joint electorates and yielded to the demand of the Muslim League for separate electorates and ‘weighted’ representation for the Muslim community in the legislatures. It was this anxiety to win over the Muslim community to the nationalist cause that led Tilak, C. R. Das and other Congress leaders to publicly express their sympathy for Turkey during the war years.6 V.J. Patel, the general secretary of the Indian National Congress, who happened to be in London in July 1920, spoke at a public meeting in Essex Hall to protest against the use of Indian troops in Mesopotamia, Arabia, Persia, Turkey and Egypt.7

Even as the Congress leaders supported the cause of Turkey and the Caliphate, some Hindu critics were troubled by doubts and fears. ‘The Khilafat movement,’ Srinivasa Sastri wrote to Sivaswami Aiyar, on 13 April 1920, ‘would lead to disaster. I (p.374) picture the Muhammedans breaking out here and there in futile mob demonstrations.’8 Five months later, soon after the Calcutta Congress, the Indian Social Reformer of Bombay, edited by K. Natarajan, asked some searching questions on the Khilafat issue.9 If India had been fully self-governing, Natarajan asked, could she have prevented Turkey from joining Germany in the war, and, when both were defeated, from paying the penalty for defeat? Would it be the duty of a government of independent India to restore the Khilafat in Turkey?

We are most anxious to promote Hindu-Muhammedan unity … . India has never assumed in the past, nor can she assume in future, one-sided protectorate over foreign States which recognise no corresponding duties towards her.. .. The way in which the Turkish Empire has been hacked to pieces is a grievous wrong, but to describe it as a religious calamity that has overtaken Indian Mussalmans is an unpardonable abuse of language. The Indian Mussalman’s freedom to follow his religious tenets has not suffered a bit by the downfall of Turkey.  …  A responsible Government of India can contemplate intervention on behalf of the Khalifa only if the security of India’s own frontiers is thereby augmented. This has not been the case in the past.

If more Hindu leaders did not openly express their scepticism, it was because they did not want to hurt Muslim sentiment on the Khilafat issue. The fact that this sentiment was deep and almost universal in the Muslim community was considered sufficient justification for Hindu support. Soon after the formation of the Swaraj Party (the original name of which was Khilafat-Swaraj Party) M. R. Jayakar pleaded with C. R. Das that the new party ‘should not be dragged at the heels of Mohamedan fanaticism which will be swayed by every political change in Turkey’.10 During the non-cooperation movement some Khilafat leaders, including the Ali Brothers, had gone so far as to declare that because of the Khilafat grievance against the British government, Indian Muslims would be justified in helping the Afghans if they invaded India. Such statements seemed outrageous to Lajpat Rai, Malaviya and other Hindu leaders. Even a level-headed liberal like Tej Bahadur Sapru’ was so disconcerted by the talk of a ‘Pan-Asiatic Federation’ in the manifesto of the Swaraj Party in 1923, that he feared it would ‘mean the break-up of India’ and would give ‘a chance to Afghanistan or Japan’.11

(p.375) As we have already seen, the initiative for seeking support of Hindus, and particularly of Gandhi had come from the Muslim side.12 As Francis Robinson succinctly puts it, ‘Gandhi does not appear to be just the masterly politician in search of allies, but also the ally who is sought and occasionally even manipulated’. The support of the Khilafatists was doubtless useful to Gandhi at the Calcutta and Nagpur sessions of the Indian National Congress, but the Khilafatists were to have his support for three long years. ‘The Mahatma,’ adds Robinson, ‘in fact was won for the Muslims and not the Muslims for the Mahatma.’13

Gandhi did not pretend to be an expert on international affairs. Nor did he presume to adjudicate upon the merits of the Ottoman Khilafat as a religious issue; it was enough for him that the Ali Brothers, Ajmal Khan, Ansari, Abul Kalam Azad, Abdul Bari and other eminent Muslims were unanimous on this issue. Deeply religious as he was, he had an extraordinary capacity for appreciating the religious sentiments of others. One of his fellow prisoners has left an account of how Gandhi observed the Muslim festival of Id in Yeravda jail:

The day of the Id [after the month of Ramazan] dawned on us in the old prison yard. And strange though it might appear, Mr. Gandhi, though a pious Hindu, shared to the full the festival spirit of Mr. Ali and other Mussalman prisoners  …  The whole day long, therefore, he went on exchanging festal greetings of Id-Mubarak with the Muslim prisoners whom he could see across the barbed wire fence.

Then the evening came. And Mr. Gandhi appeared to be even more anxious than Mr. Ali to catch a glimpse of the crescent moon. .. His joy knew no bounds when he did eventually succeed in greeting the crescent moon. He was so excited that he actually overstepped the boundary of the barbed wire fence.14

Curiously enough, Gandhi found it easier to establish rapport with the Muslim masses than with the Muslim intelligentsia, but he knew that there were definite limits to the influence he could exercise on the Muslim community. As a nationalist Muslim writer points out, the Muslim masses had ‘been accustomed to listen only to Muslim leaders and workers’.15 It is not without significance that one of the questions included in the famous Mutafiqa Fatwa (United Fatwa) signed by 120 ulemas in 1921 (when Gandhi’s stock with the Muslim community was at its zenith) was whether it was permissible under the shariah ‘to (p.376) accept sound advice rendered by a non-Muslim’ and to follow a non-Muslim in order to attain a religious object. The answer given in the fatwa was that it was ‘permissible to accept and to act upon good advice tendered by a non-Muslim. .. But this should be remembered that it is not permissible for a Mussalman to be under the leadership of a non-Muslim whether wholly or partly.’16

Gandhi in fact exercised little direct control over the Khilafat movement; his influence was exerted indirectly through Muslim leaders. He developed a warm personal relationship with some of them, such as the Ali Brothers, Ajmal Khan, Ansari and Azad. But he was hard put to it to curb firebrands such as Abdul Bari and Hasrat Mohani. What intrigued and embarrassed him continually was that the Khilafat leaders went out of their way to emphasize that their acceptance of non-violence was a matter of expediency and that Islam permitted resort to violence. The Muslim middle class in particular found Gandhi’s homilies on non-violence jarring; its reaction was typified in a satirical verse composed by the Urdu poet Akbar Allahabadi:17

  • ‘Don’t strike the sahibs,
  • Don’t run away from them,
  • Keep shouting, taking thrashings and petitioning.’

Gandhi had two main aims in lending his support to the Khilafat movement: to prevent it from turning violent, and to draw the Muslim community into the orbit of the nationalist movement. He achieved a great measure of success in his first aim; but not in the second. The ‘grand alliance’ between the Congress and the Khilafat organizations did not mature into a permanent Hindu-Muslim accord. Gandhi’s hope that the Hindus’ unconditional support for a purely Muslim cause would secure the lasting gratitude of Indian Muslims, remained unfulfilled. This was not necessarily due to any mistakes committed by Gandhi or the Congress. The period of the ‘grand alliance’ was much too short to offset the decades-long conditioning of the Muslim intelligentsia against Indian nationalism. Since the days of Syed Ahmad Khan, it had been taught to believe that there was an essential antagonism between the interests of Hindus and Muslims, that the future of the Muslim community was linked with the continuance of British rule, that its (p.377) replacement by a representative form of government would place the Muslims at a permanent disadvantage vis-a-vis Hindus.

The basic weakness of the Congress-Khilafat alliance was that it was the outcome of a temporary alienation of Indian Muslims from the British Government because of its refusal to rescue Turkey from the consequences of its defeat in the world war. The non-cooperation movement succeeded in forging a common front between Hindus and Muslims. But, while Hindus were animated by the aspirations for swaraj, the Muslims’ overwhelming concern was the fate of Turkey and the Caliphate. Gandhi and his colleagues in the Congress do not seem to have realized the risks inherent in such a situation. But shrewd British observers, even at the height of the Khilafat movement, felt confident that the alienation of the Muslim community was a passing phase and could be reversed. ‘I don’t know,’ Sir William Vincent, the Home Member, wrote in October 1921, ‘how far any modification of the Turkish peace terms is possible, but if we could secure some substantial modification in favour of Turkey, we should go a long way to break Gandhi’s movement so far as Mohammedans are concerned.’18 Both the Viceroys, Chelmsford and Reading, who successively headed the Indian administration during this period, repeatedly implored the British Government to do something to assuage Muslim opinion in India. They were strongly supported by Secretary of State Montagu, but Lloyd George could not be deflected from his anti-Turkish and pro-Greek stance. The Government of India could also not check the indiscreet outbursts of the Archbishop of Canterbury and other Christian prelates in Britain, which made the Turkish question seem to Indian Muslims as a conflict between the Cross and the Crescent.19

In the event, Turkey was saved not by British diplomacy but by Turkish arms. The Treaty of Lausanne was a bitter pill for the British Government, but for the Viceroy and the Government of India, it was manna from heaven. ‘We must get back,’ Lord Reading wrote to Peel, the new Secretary of State, in 1922, ‘to the position of Britain as the friend and the protector of the Muslims; we must be able to rely upon the Muslim; we must not have him arrayed against us, and if only you and I can restore the former position in this respect we shall have taken a great step for the pacification of India and for the restoration of our authority and prestige.’20

(p.378) During the years 1920–22, the Government of lndia did all it could possibly do to placate Muslim sentiment. It forwarded memorials from Muslim organizations and leaders to the British Government; it permitted and even encouraged Muslim delegations to proceed to London to make representations directly to British ministers. In February 1921, it even allowed Ansari, one of the key leaders of the Khilafat and non-cooperation movements, to join a Khilafat delegation which went to England at the expense of the Government of lndia. The Government of India repeatedly pleaded with the British Foreign Office not to play up its support for Sharif Husain, the Arab rebel against Turkey, who was regarded in India as a British stooge.21

In every step that the Government of lndia took against the Khilafat movement it carefully weighed possible repercussions on Muslim opinion.22 Eventually, it was the anxiety of the Viceroy and his advisers to exhibit their sympathy for Turkey which cost Edwin Montagu his place in the British Cabinet. On 28 February 1922, in an official telegram the Government of India stated that they were

fully alive to the complexity of the problem, but India’s services in the war, in which Indian Moslem troops so largely participated, and the support which the Indian Moslem case is receiving throughout India, entitle her to claim the. .. fulfilment of her just and equitable aspirations  …  we urge upon His Majesty’s Government three points which, due provision having been made for safeguarding the neutrality of the Straits and the security of the non-Turkish population, we regard ourselves as essential:

  1. (1) The evacuation of Constantinople;

  2. (2) The Sultan’s suzerainty over the Holy Places;

  3. (3) The restoration of Ottoman Thrace, including the sacred Moslem city of Adrianople and the unreserved restoration of Smyrna …

In conclusion, the Government of India sought permission to publish that telegram, ‘so important is it for the Government of India to range itself openly on the side of Moslem India .. .’23

The publication of this telegram, without the permission of the Prime Minister or the Cabinet, led to Montagu’s dismissal from the Cabinet. But it had an electrifying effect upon Muslim opinion in India. It immediately mollified anti-British feeling; though few observers realized it at the time, it struck a mortal (p.379) blow at the non-cooperation movement. It certainly cooled off the patriotic fervour of those Muslim leaders whose real driving force was concern for Turkey. There was a dramatic change of front in some of the eminent Khilafat leaders. From a letter written by Maulvi Abdullah Khan of Lucknow to Sir Mohammad Shafi, a member of the Viceroy’s Executive Council, we learn that a meeting was held at the former’s house on 14 April 1922, which was attended by some eminent Khilafat lenders, including Abdul Bari, M. H. Kidwai and Hasrat Mohani. At this meeting the consensus was that, after the publication of the Government of India’s telegram of 28 February 1922 to the Secretary of State, there was no reason for Indian Muslims to continue to doubt the bona fides of the British Government. ‘What astonished me,’ Maulvi Abdullah wrote, ‘was Hasrat’s [Mohani’s] attitude. He was for dropping non-cooperation altogether. He said our quarrel with the Government was that it was anti-Islamic, and now that it supports Islam, we should support it.’24 Abdul Bari, who had seemed so stridently anti-British just before Gandhi’s arrest in March 1922, executed a volte face a month later. ‘Now that the Government of India has stood up,’ Abdul Bari wrote to Abdullah Khan, ‘in defence of Islam they are entitled to be regarded as ours and we as theirs …  The aim and object of us—Mussalmans— is not political revolution, but defence of Islam and maintenance of Khilafat. And now that Lord Reading is actively supporting our aim, he is our sympathetic friend and patron. You can assure him and his Government that so long as the Muhamedans continue to live they will always be grateful to him and Mr. Montagu.’25

II

Gandhi has been blamed for supporting the Khilafat movement and thus ‘exploiting’ a religious grievance of the Muslim community for a political purpose. As we have already seen, the sentiment for Turkey and the Ottoman Caliphate was well-pronounced among Indian Muslims at the turn of the century; only its anti-British edge was sharpened by the harsh terms imposed upon Turkey by the Treaty of Sevres. Testimony to the (p.380) traumatic effect of this treaty is borne by Muslim newspapers and journals of the day, the resolutions of Muslim political and religious bodies such as the All-India Khilafat Conference, the Central Khilafat Committee, the Muslim League and Jamiat-ul-Ulema-i-Hind, and the private and official records of the period.

The Khilafat movement was thus not a trap cunningly devised by Gandhi and Hindus for the unwary Muslims; nor was it the handiwork of a few fanatical ulema. Indeed, there was hardly any section of the Muslim community which did not profess to be agitated on this issue. ‘There is no more loyal subject of the King,’ the Aga Khan told the Bombay correspondent of the Daily Mail in May 1920, ‘than myself̲̲̲̲̲ If the Treaty [of Sevres] is enforced. .. a terrible wound would be inflicted on the hearts of Indian Muslims. That would not heal in the present generation, perhaps not in the present century. In dealing with a people so susceptible religiously as the Muslims, it is necessary to take the greatest care.’26 Other Muslim loyalists such as Ameer Ali and Sir Muhammad Shafi made similar representations to the British Prime Minister and the Cabinet in London. The Muslim leaders who took part in the Khilafat movement included not only orthodox divines such as Abul Kalam Azad and Abdul Bari, but western-educated Muslims such as Syed Mahmud, Syed Hossain, A. M. Khwaja and Mazharul Haque, who had studied in Cambridge, Oxford or the Inns of Court in England. Of the 82 signatories who signed the memorial to the Viceroy warning him that the Muslim community would resort to non-cooperation with the government from 1 August 1920, there were 21 maulanas, 27 merchants. 13 lawyers including 9 barristers, 3 journalists, 9 former magistrates, 3 landholders and 2 contractors.

It is true that some influential Muslims, including the titled gentry, landlords, the trustees and teachers of the Aligarh College and Muslim politicians of the old school, kept out of the non-cooperation movement, but hardly any of them dared to publicly question the validity of the Khilafat case. An interesting example is that of M. A. Jinnah. At the Lucknow session of the Muslim League in 1916, he urged the Government of India to respect Indian Muslims’ ‘dearest and most sacred religious feelings and under no circumstances interfere with the question (p.381) of the Caliphate’.27 However, two years later, at a meeting of the Muslim League Council at Delhi, at which the Khilafat issue was being discussed, he argued that the constitution of the Muslim League forbade it to comment on the foreign policies of the government, and walked out of the meeting when his objection was overruled.28

Jinnah did not take long to swallow his constitutional qualms: in the summer of 1919 he headed a Muslim League delegation to England to plead on behalf of Turkey and the Khilafat.29 The memorial to the British Government, which he drafted, affirmed that for generations past the ‘Muslims of India had recognised the Khilafat of the House of Usman’. He requested Prime Minister Lloyd George for a private interview ‘so that I may be able to place the point of view of the Mussalmans of India, which cannot be placed before you from the medium of pen and ink’.30 In September 1920 Jinnah presided over the special session of the Muslim League at Calcutta which was to consider Gandhi’s programme for non-cooperation. In his presidential speech he described the Khilafat as ‘a matter of life and death’. ‘I cannot ask the people,’ he said, ‘to submit to wrong after wrong. Yet I would ask the Government not to drive the people of India to desperation.’ Curiously enough, he did not commit himself to any particular course of action, leaving the decision to ‘the collective wisdom of the Mussalmans’.31 When the Muslim League opted for non-cooperation, Jinnah opted out of the League. He did not embroil himself with the government, but continued to support the case for Turkey and Khilafat. He told a London meeting in June 1921, ‘I assure you that you will never get back the goodwill of the people of India or the Mussalmans, you will never get peace and your reputation for fairplay and good faith has been shattered throughout the East’.32 In November 1921, after a meeting with Jinnah, the Viceroy wrote to the Secretary of State that Jinnah was ‘in favour of the Khilafat agitation, but has not joined Gandhi, whose policy he regards as destructive and not constructive’.33

Not until the Turks had solved the Khilafat issue in their own way did Jinnah and his colleagues in the All-India Muslim League dare to touch upon the romantic nature of the Khilafat agitation. Syed Raza Ali, the president of the Lucknow session of the Muslim League in December 1924, called upon Indian (p.382) Muslims to switch their attention ‘to the internal problems of our motherland, and not to be disturbed by what was going on in a distant land. Extra-territorial patriotism is a most noble and inspiring sentiment if kept within reasonable bounds.’34

III

It is pertinent to ask how this ‘extra-territorial patriotism’ took such a firm and pervasive hold of the Muslim community. How did the fate of Turkey, ‘a distant land’, become such an emotional issue for millions of Indian Muslims of all classes?

We have already seen that even though the Ottoman Caliphate had not been recognized by the Mughal rulers—who were deemed to be Caliphs in their own dominions—its prestige in India rose in the closing decades of the nineteenth century and the first decade of the twentieth century. This seems to have happened almost accidentally. After the arrest and exile of Bahadur Shah, the last Mughal Emperor, the name of the monarch was removed from the khutba in mosques and ‘a vague reference was made to the ruler of Muslims without specifying who he was, because it was understood that there was none. Then the name of the Sultan of Turkey came to be inserted with his tides.’35 Some Turkish sultans, such as Abdul Hamid, tried to canvass support for the Caliphate in Muslim countries; if there was greater response to this propaganda in India than in other countries, there were reasons for it. Allegiance to the Ottoman Caliphate catered to a psychological need of Indian Muslims. It was not easy for them—and especially the educated middle class—to forget that India had been under Muslim rule for centuries. The rising national consciousness amongst Hindus and the demand for representative institutions made Muslims conscious of the Hindus’ numerical superiority. By emphasizing a pan-Islamic link with Turkey, ‘the greatest surviving Muslim power in the world’, Indian Muslims were unconsciously conveying a subtle message to the Hindu majority: ‘We may be a minority in India, but we are part of a vast Muslim fraternity in the world.’ Thus viewed, pan-Islamism was, in the words of F. Rahman, ‘perhaps more semi-consciously a bid for finding Muslim security in a future independent India over and against a non-Muslim majority’.36

(p.383) It is not without significance that the past glory of Islam became a favourite subject for Muslim scholars and journalists at the beginning of this century. It animated the poetry and philosophy of Dr Muhammad Iqbal; it was the.theme of Ameer Ali’s scholarly works, Short History of the Saracens and the Spirit of Islam. Ameer Ali wrote about Islamic civilization in the Middle East, North Africa and Spain. India did not figure much in his writings because he believed it had not been in the Islamic mainstream.

During the Balkan Wars, the pan-Islamist feeling rose to a fever pitch, especially in the years preceding the First World War. On 14 October 1911 the Comrade, edited by Mohamed Ali, told its readers that

The Indian Mussalman’s heart throbs in unison with the Moor of Fez, who sees his country passing into alien hands, with the Persian of Tehran who feels the grip of the Russian Cossack on his throat, and with the Turk of Stamboul who has to watch an act of shameless brigandage with impotent rage.

It is at about this time that Maulvi Zakaullah, a venerable scholar of Delhi, told C. F. Andrews, the Christian missionary:

I cannot bear to hear Indian Musalmans speaking without reverence and affection for India. It is a new fashion, unfortunately springing up, which did not exist in my younger days. The fashion is a bad one …  By all means let us love our Mussalman brethren in other countries, and feel their joys and sorrows; but let us love with all our hearts our own country, and have nothing to do with the encouragement of those who tell us, that we, Musalmans, must always be looking outside India for our religious hopes and their fulfilment.37

Some shrewd British observers in India sensed that pan-Islamism satisfied a psychological need of Indian Muslims; so long as it did not assume an anti-British form they were prepared to tolerate and even to encourage it. In April 1922, when the Khilafat movement was very active, and a source of deep concern to the Government of India, it confided to its superiors in London:

Khilafat sentiment in so far as it is not promoted for the purpose of accelerating Swaraj is based upon the view that Turkey is the one great Islamic Power left and her reduction to insignificance would be a fatal blow to the prestige, influence and strength of Islam as a whole.

(p.384) The attitude of Muslims in India vis-a-vis Hindus has always been one of pride and superiority in their many differences. They have lost no opportunity of impressing upon Hindus that whatever might be the local and numerical importance of Hindus in India, their position could not compare with that of Muslims. For Islam was a world power; their Caliph was the secular ruler not only of a kingdom of Asiatic importance but of considerable influence and prestige in Europe.

The religious aspect is, of course, stressed as much as possible, with a view to influencing and exciting the Muhammedan masses, but the real underlying motive force animating those leaders who are not merely non-cooperationists disguised as Khilafatists, is the sentiment above represented, a sentiment which the Government of India feel themselves bound to respect.38

Long before Gandhi launched the non-cooperation movement, Muslim politicians made no secret of their pride in the political might of Islam outside India. A resolution passed by the All-India Muslim League at Delhi in December 1918, referred to the interest which Indian Muslims were taking in the fate of their co-religionists abroad, and then went on to affirm ‘that the collapse of the Muslim Powers of the world is bound to have an adverse influence on the political importance of Mussal-mans in the country [India]’.39

Ironically enough, while the pan-Islamic feeling was growing in India, a contrary trend in favour of nationalism was in evidence in several Muslim countries, from Morocco to Afghanistan. As far back as 1882, Jamal ad-Din al-Afghani appealed to Indian Muslims to take pride in their Hindu past, just as he had advised Egyptian Muslims to respect their pre-Islamic heritage.40 Khwaja Ghulam us-Saqlin, a lawyer of Meerut, told a meeting of Muslims at Lucknow in March 1912, ‘Wherever I went, Persia, Syria, Egypt or Hedjaz, everywhere I was told that Indian Mohamedans are following a mistaken policy; they should see that Hindus and Mohamedans live in peace’.41 During the First World War, when Maulana Mahmud Hasan called on Ghalib Pasha, the Governor of Hedjaz, he was advised to go back to India to work there in cooperation with the Hindus.42 The same advice was given to Ubaidullah Sindhi by his Afghan friends.

While Muslims in other countries were seeking their national identity and developing, what may be called, ‘territorial patriotism’, (p.385) it was being dinned into the ears of Indian Muslims by their leaders that the people of India could never become a nation, that there was a basic incompatibility between their interests and those of Hindus, that their future lay in cultivating (he goodwill of the British rulers. Theological and philosophic arguments were brought in to reinforce this flight from the nationalism. Muhammad Iqbal, for example, described the expression ‘Indian Muhammadan’, as ‘a contradiction in terms; since Islam in its essence is above all conditions of time and space. Nationality with us is a pure idea; it has no geographical basis’.43

We have already seen how poor the participation of the Muslim community was in the proceedings and activities of the Indian National Congress during the first thirty years of its existence. It is true that a few prominent Muslims such as Barrister Rasool in Bengal, Mazharul Haque in Patna and Mohammad Ali Jinnah in Bombay took part in Congress activities. But it would be difficult to contest the opinion of the well-known historian Mohamed Mujeeb, that ‘till 1919 there was no Muslim leadership that could be definitely identified as representing the common Indian interest’.44 Mujeeb was not, however, sure whether the Muslim abstention from the Congress was due to the inability of Muslim leaders to adopt a form of political expression other than in religious terms, or whether they sensed that Muslims would be unresponsive to a secular approach.

IV

We have already seen the circumstances leading to Gandhi’s involvement in the Khilafat movement. Gandhi offered his method of non-violent resistance to the protagonists of the Khilafat as he had offered it to the peasants of Champaran or the textile workers of Ahmedabad. His immediate concern was to prevent the Khilafat agitation from turning into violent channels. He lifted the Khilafat issue from the religious to the political level; he linked it with the British atrocities in the Punjab and the demand for Indian self-government. He studiously refrained! from playing on the religious feelings of (p.386) Muslims; indeed he insisted on a reasoned and sober presentation of the Khilafat issue. The goal of Swaraj (self-government) he held before the country was a secular one; the programme of non-cooperation he presented to achieve it—the boycott of institutions and symbols of alien rule—was also secular. Gandhi hoped that the gesture of spontaneous and unqualified support from Hindus would disarm Muslim fears and suspicions, and participation in a common struggle would forge bonds of permanent friendship between the two communities. This did not happen. The Khilafat leadership and the rank and file continued to be primarily preoccupied with the problem of the Turkish treaty and the Caliphate. And when the Turks cut the ground from under their feet by abolishing both the Sultanate and Caliphate, Indian Muslims discovered with a shock that they had been pursuing a mirage.

The All-India Khilafat Conference soon lost its raison d’etre; its countrywide network disintegrated; its head office remained in Bombay and until 1928 went on holding its annual meetings. But the Ali Brothers and their friends, who ran the Khilafat organization, were unable to whip up popular enthusiasm for a moribund cause. The tragedy of the Indian Muslims was that they were taught to see the Khilafat issue only through the religious prism, as a battle between the Crescent and the Cross. Kemal Ataturk and his fellow Turkish nationalists were more realistic. They saw that the days of empires and caliphates were over; they were not really bothered about Muslims in other countries; they wanted to turn Turkey into a homogeneous nation-state which could live in dignity and honour. They had waged a desperate struggle against western powers, but after achieving their principal aims they nevertheless went ahead with westernization and secularization of their country. The Kemalist republic, in its dealings with the rest of the world, was guided not by religious affinities, but by calculations of national self-interest. It deliberately cultivated friendly relations with Britain. Sir George Clarke, the British Ambassador to Turkey developed a close personal relationship with Kemal Ataturk. When Kemal Ataturk died in 1938, his death was sincerely mourned by the British.

It has been suggested that the methods used for the mobilization of the Muslim masses during the Khilafat movement set a (p.387) bad precedent which Jinnah was able to exploit in his campaign for Pakistan. It would be rash to trace Muslim separatism, which culminated in the division of the country in 1947, directly to the Khilafat movement of 1920–22. Much was to happen during the following two decades to narrow political options to that of the division of the country. There is no doubt, however, that among those who campaigned for the two-nation theory or heightened separatist sentiments in the Muslim community were some eminent Maulanas, Shaukat Ali, Husain Ahmed, Ahmed Said, Kifayatullah, who had once been on the Khilafat bandwagon. The ulema’s support, because of their close links with the Muslim masses in both towns and villages, proved. invaluable to Jinnah, and certainly contributed to the success of the Muslim League in the general elections of 1945, which established its credentials to speak for Indian Muslims during the final negotiations for the transfer of power.

Educated, and especially western-educated, Muslims were never enamoured of the ulema’s incursion into politics, but they bad found it useful in rousing the masses during the Khilafat movement. During the late twenties and early thirties the ulema practically faded out of politics. But in the late thirties and the forties, the ulema found a role again when the leaders of the M uslim League sought their help in defeating the Congress. It is true that all the ulema did not join the League: the Deoband School and Jamiat ul-uIema-i-Hind, for example, refused to support the division of the country. But there were enough pro-League ulema to tilt the scales in its favour in the general elections of 1945.

During the Khilafat movement the ulema had cited religious sanctions for every step which was taken. Fatwas were pro-duced to tell Indian Muslims that non-cooperation was a religious obligation, that it was a sin to serve the infidel govern-ment or to vote for the legislatures set up by it, or to attend the schools and courts established by it. In the 1940s, the ulema under the banner of the Muslim League produced the authority of the Quran and Hadis to prove that the two-nation theory was an Islamic theory and that it was incumbent on Indian Muslims to vote for Pakistan. The formation of Pakistan was thus to be the first step towards the establishment of God’s Quranic Kingdom on earth. ‘Who could have the courage,’ (p.388) Mushirul Haque says, ‘not to vote for Pakistan, the Kingdom of God?’45

Gandhi had not inducted the ulema into the Khilafat movement; they were there before he was invited to guide it. He found them embarrassing allies, ever verging on fanaticism and violence. It required all his patience, skill and firmness to restrain them; it was their unpredictable proclivity to violent behaviour which weighed most heavily on his mind when he went to jail in March 1922.

V

One of the consequences of the collapse of the Khilafat movement in India was the temporary eclipse of the ulema. The Khilafat issue, with its deep religious overtones, was ideally suited to give them access to politics. However, in 1923 when they quoted the Quran to forbid entry into the reformed councils, the Muslim intelligentsia did not heed them. Indeed, the feeling in the intelligentsia was that just as soldiers went back to their barracks when the war was over, the ulema must not meddle in politics but must return to their madrassas and maktabs to learn and teach Islamic scriptures.

Maulana Abdul Bari railed against the selfish Muslim politicians, who had made use of the ulema, and then cast them aside. Abdul Bari himself was highly volatile. He quickly broke off his connection with his allies of the non-cooperation movement, blamed Hindu—Muslim riots on the Hindus, charged Gandhi with partisanship, and switched his righteous indignation from the British to Hindus. He ended up, as he had begun: a loyal supporter of the British Raj.46

Another prominent Khilafat leader, S. D. Kitchlew, lost no time in plunging into movements for the tabligh (conversion) and tanzim (unification) of the Muslims as a counterblast to the Hindu movements of shuddhi and sangathan. Maulana Hasrat Mohani, the great firebrand of the Khilafat days, became sharply critical of Gandhi and the Congress, and exhibited a quaint mixture of pan-Islamism, communalism and communism; he joined the Muslim League, supported the division of the country, and then stayed back in India to raise the only dissentient voice (p.389) when the constitution of the Indian Republic was put to vote in the Constituent Assembly in 1949.

Zafar Ali Khan, the editor of the Zamindar of Lahore, who had been a thorn in the side of British officials during the Khilafat agitation, became a protagonist of communal politics in the Punjab. In his later years he was a suppliant for a pension at the door of the Nizam of Hyderabad.

The most dramatic change in the post-Khilafat period came, however, in the Ali Brothers. Unlike most of their colleagues in the Khilafat movement, they did not accept the Turkish abolition of the Caliphate as a fait accompli. They had never been gifted with much tact and restraint at the best of times, but in the post-Khilafat period they became increasingly isolated. They opposed proposals for the transfer of the office of the Central Khilafat Committee (which had already come under the cloud of charges of embezzlement) from Bombay to Delhi or to any place in northern India. They fell out with most of their comrades in the Khilafat movement. They got embroiled in bitter controversies with Zafar Ali Khan and Kitchlew. They were temperamentally very different from Abul Kalam Azad and Ajmal Khan, but they alienated even Ansari, who had long been their devoted friend and physician. When Ansari was manhandled at a meeting of the Central Khilafat Committee, he accused Shaukat All of ‘condoning the atrocious deed of violence under his very nose’.47

As for Mohamed Ali, it must be said to his credit that during the two years of Gandhi’s incarceration, he tried to work with the Congress leaders. Even after Gandhi’s release from jail, it seemed for a time that the Ali Brothers would be able to work with him. It was in Mohamed Ali’s house in October 1924 that Gandhi went through his twenty-one day fast for Hindu—Muslim unity.

The Ali Brothers were under great strain at this time. Mohamed Ali lost a much loved daughter. Shaukat Ali passed through a serious illness. Their mother, whom they adored, fell ill and died; they were short of money. Their break with Gandhi came, however, when they became increasingly bitter and partisan in their attitude to communal issues; their motto seemed to be ‘my community, right or wrong’. They professed to see in every disturbance a Hindu conspiracy, and in every Hindu (p.390) leader an enemy of Indian Muslims. In the end they were levelling charges of communalism even against Gandhi and Motilal Nehru.48 After the brief interlude of the Khilafat agitation, they reverted to the grooves of pre-1914 politics.

When Gandhi launched civil disobedience in 1930, Mohamed Ali said it was a movement not for complete independence for India but for the enslavement of seventy million Indian Muslims.49 The answer to this charge was given by Ansari: ‘To say that Satyagraha was aimed not so much against the government as against the Muslims is a piece of monstrous falsehood.’

In January 1931 in a letter which he addressed from his deathbed to Ramsay MacDonald, the British Prime Minister, Mohamed Ali explained that he belonged ‘to two circles of equal size which are not concentric—one is Indian and the other is the Muslim world’.50 This indeed was the tragedy of Mohamed Ali’s life. ‘We are not nationalists,’ he wrote, ‘but super nationalists, and I as a Muslim say that God made man and the Devil made the nation.’ It was this basic conflict between a vague pan-Islamism and Indian nationalism in his mind which he could not resolve. He spent the better part of his life chasing the Khilafat mirage. Later he talked vaguely of ‘a federation of faiths in India’ and a ‘cultural federalism. In his letter to the British Prime Minister, to which reference has been made, he argued that Muslims had ruled India for a thousand years, and Hindus were determined to rule India in a spirit of revanche, that he would not favour ‘replacing the "nation of shop-keepers" by their Indian counterpart, the bania.51 He propounded a theory of hostages. He demanded Muslim majorities in the legislatures of Bengal and the Punjab, and the creation of more Muslim-majority provinces as ‘our safeguard, for we demand hostages as we have willingly given hostages to Hindus in the other Provinces where they form huge majorities.’52

Mohamed Ali, of course, died long before Jinnah’s two-nation theory came to be formulated, but he certainly reinforced the flight from secular nationalism which took Muslim separatism to a point of no return.

Shaukat Ali usually took his cue in politics from his brother; after Mohamed Ali’s death he rapidly travelled downhill. Gandhi observed, during the Second Round Table Conference, how Shaukat Ali faithfully toed the Tory line.53 In February 1932 the (p.391) Viceroy, Lord Willingdon, was glad to sec ‘Shaukat Ali in a most amazingly loyal frame of mind’.54 Six months later, Shaukat Ali applied for the revival of his pension for his past service in the Opium Department before he plunged into the Khilafat agitation. ‘Along with other Indian Muslims,’ he wrote to the Viceroy, ‘both of us [Ali Brothers] felt very strongly against the British policy of weakening Muslim States. But I am glad that there has been a great change since then, and I hope never again such a catastrophe would happen and force a Muslim to give up his loyalty to the temporal power for the sake of his faith and religious conviction.’55

VI

While the Ali Brothers’ defection was a great disappointment to Gandhi, the Khilafat agitation did bring him and the Congress some valuable allies who joined the mainstream of the nationalist movement. Hakim Ajmal Khan had been a founder member of the All-India Muslim League and Chairman of its Reception Committee in the 1919 session, and became one of the foremost leaders of the Khilafat movement. He never reverted to sectarian politics and remained untouched by the communal taint of the twenties.

Like Ajmal Khan, M. A. Ansari had, since his younger days, been a member of the Muslim League. He was an ardent Pan-Islamist and in the highest echelons of the Khilafat movement. Nevertheless, thanks to his exposure to the non-cooperation movement and association with Gandhi, he outgrew sectarian politics, and developed a secular outlook. In July 1926, when he resigned from the Central Khilafat Committee, he declared: ‘As an Indian owing allegiance first to the Motherland, I feel I must sever my connection with all communal or sectional organizations.’56 Four years later, he formed the All-India Muslim Nationalist Party. Nothing could shake his belief in Hindu-Muslim unity and in the Indian National Congress as the voice of Indian nationalism. ‘We must not leave the Congress,’ he wrote to a Muslim leader in January 1930, ‘nor must we do anything to weaken the Congress.. .. To leave the Congress would be to commit political suicide, to oppose the Congress would be a crime.’57

(p.392) No less remarkable was the transformation wrought by the non-cooperation movement in Maulana Abul Kalam Azad. Here was the case of an ardent Pan-Islamist and a learned theologian, whose speeches and writings, studded with quotations from Islamic scriptures, gave little inkling of his rationality or modernity, suddenly maturing into a secular, nationalist politician. In 1923 he was barely 34 years old; he presided over a ‘Special’ Congress session in Delhi and revealed a remarkable capacity as a committee man, reconciling differences between factions, drafting compromise resolutions and suggesting ways out of a political impasse. He kept himself studiously aloof from the murky communal politics of the twenties. In 1926, when Motilal Nehru announced the formation of ‘The Indian National Union’ as a ‘non-political’ and ‘non-party’ organization, he chose the young Maulana as its co-founder.58 After the eclipse of the Ali Brothers and the death of Ajmal Khan and Ansari, Azad became in the late thirties and early forties the major nationalist Muslim leader in India.

When Gandhi returned from jail early in 1924, he discovered that the Hindu-Muslim unity of the non-cooperation days was a mere memory. Apart from the riots which disfigured several towns there was a new bitterness in politics and in the press. Some Hindu leaders, such as Lajpat Rai, Madan Mohan Malaviya and Shraddhananda, complained that the Muslim masses had received a dangerous awakening through the coalescence of the Khilafat and non-cooperation movements, and that it was necessary for Hindus to adopt measures of self-defence against Muslim communalism, which was the more dangerous because it appeared to them to have the backing of the British Government. Several Muslim politicians who had participated in the Khilafat movement also had second thoughts, and wondered whether they had too readily joined hands with the Congress in fighting for a new order in which the position of the Muslim community might not be too secure.

In an atmosphere of mutual suspicion every incident was twisted and every move of one community was suspect to the other. The very Muslims who, as a gesture to their Hindu neighbours, had voluntarily given up cow-slaughter during the favourable climate of 1920–22, now insisted on ostentatiously exercising it as a religious obligation. Hindus asserted the equally (p.393) provocative right to play music before mosques while conducting their religious processions. Then there were the endless wrangles on the distribution of government jobs between the two communities.

There were not a few who ascribed the new tension to the non-cooperation movement and its alliance with the Khilafat cause, and blamed Gandhi for having played with the masses and roused them prematurely. ‘The awakening of the masses,’ wrote Gandhi, ‘was a necessary part of the training. I would do nothing to put the people to sleep again.’ However, he recognized that this awakening needed to be diverted into constructive channels: the people had to be educated out of the mental morass into which they had slipped. Through the pages of his weekly journals, Young India and Navajivan, he gave his own diagnosis of the disease of communalism; a whole issue of Young India was devoted to the subject. He argued that Hindu-Muslim tension could never have taken the form it did if the country had understood his message; the principle of non-violence held the key not only to the freedom of the country, but also to peace between the communities. A civilized society, which had given up violence as a means of settling individual disputes, must also eschew violence for reconciling differences between groups. Differences could be resolved by mutual tolerance, compromise, private arbitration and, in the last resort, by appeal to the ‘ courts. In any case, hearts could never be united by breaking heads. To Gandhi, the points of friction seemed a travesty of truth. Was it religion that drove a group of Hindu worshippers to lead a procession noisily before a mosque just as the faithful knelt for prayer? Was it a religious obligation laid on the Muslim to lead cows to slaughter to wound the feelings of his Hindu neighbours? And what was the point of proselytizing, when conversion was not a moral or spiritual regeneration, but ‘crossing from one compartment to the other, with one thing on the lips and another in the heart?’ By probing into the causes of communal antagonism, and by appealing to the good sense of the communities, Gandhi tried to restore sanity.

One of the causes of the growing tension between the two communities was the competitive nature of constitutional politics: the new legislatures which conceded partial autonomy at the provincial level, became a field for contesting rival (p.394) communal claims. For example, in the Punjab and Bengal Muslim legislators and ministers immediately demanded a larger share of jobs. Gandhi’s own view was that it was for Hindus, who were in a majority in the country as a whole, to make the largest concessions possible to disarm Muslim suspicions. But few Hindu leaders were prepared to make unilateral concessions. Ironically, while there was no fixity in Muslim demands, the Hindu leaders tended to yield too little and too late, and the British in any case were prepared to concede more than the Hindus.

In October 1924 Gandhi, deeply hurt by the bitterness prevalent in some parts of the country, undertook a twenty-one day fast to ‘purify himself and to recover the power to reach out to the people’. The fast was, he said, ‘a warning to Hindus and Muslims who have professed to love me. If they have loved me truly and if I have been deserving of their love, they will do penance with me.’ A ‘Unity Conference’ met at Delhi and affirmed the freedom of conscience and religion, and condemned the use of compulsion and violence. On the morning of 8 October 1924, three weeks after he had begun it, Gandhi broke his fast in the presence of leaders of all the communities. As the chanting of the verses from the Quran and the Upanishads mingled with Christian hymns, C. F. Andrews noted that ‘hearts were drawn together’.

Three months later, Gandhi presided over an All-Parties Conference at Delhi, of which the Hindu wrote: ‘A political gathering more representative of all parties, communities and interests is unthinkable.’ It was attended, among others, by Motilal Nehru, C. R. Das, V. J. Patel, Srinivasa Sastri, C. Y. Chintamani, B. C. Pal, Annie Besant, Jinnah, Purshotamdas Thakurdas and Mohamed Ali. Gandhi sought to bring together Swarajists and no-Changers, Congressmen and Liberals, Hindus and Muslims on a common platform. He moved a resolution for the appointment of a committee of leaders belonging to all parties, ‘to consider the best way of reuniting all political parties in the Indian National Congress, and to prepare a scheme of Swaraj including the solution of the Hindu-Muslim and the like questions in their political aspect.’ The resolution was passed unanimously.

It soon became clear to Gandhi that though communal leaders (p.395) talked of unity, they really did not mean it; that they were ‘fighting not even for loaves and fishes, but fighting like the proverbial dog not for the bone but for the shadow’. His appeal for religious toleration, which had been dramatized by his twenty-one day fast, had only an ephemeral effect on the warring factions. The blank cheque he offered to Muslims in the allocation of seats in legislatures and jobs in the government was ridiculed by them and resented by Hindus. Gandhi warned that those who accentuated communal tension were playing into the hands of the ruling power. We know now that the heightened communal antagonism weakened the nationalist forces and brought welcome relief to British officials. ‘The Mussalmans are making it clear,’ Harcourt Butler wrote59 on 23 August 1924, ‘that they do not trust the Hindus, and this is a clear argument against provincial autonomy and home rule.’ In 1927, it was the view of Lord Hardinge (the Viceroy of India from 1910 to 1916) that the communal riots of the ‘twenties served ‘as a very useful object lesson to idealists, of the necessity of the British Raj’,60 and showed ‘how impossible it would be to abolish communal representation and how necessary it is to have a British Raj to maintain peace and order. When the day of religious peace arrives in India, the day of our departure from these shores will draw nigh, but my belief is that that day will never come.’61

Gandhi came to the conclusion that, failing a joint struggle against the imperial power, the best way of uniting the two communities was to bring them together in the quiet, unspectacular work of ‘nation-building’. This is what he did in the next five years until the wheel turned full circle, and the country was ready for another satyagraha campaign.

Notes:

(1.) Quoted in Aziz Ahmad, Islamic Modernism in India and Pakistan (London, 1967), p. 139.

(2.) Shafa’at Ahmad Khan, The Indian Federation (London, 1937), p. 330.

(3.) A. B. Rajput, Muslim League, Yesterday and Today (Lahore, 1948), p. 37.

(5.) The Comrade, 1 April 1911.

(6.) See Chapter 11, supra.

(7.) Muslim Outlook, London, 5 Aug. 1920.

(p.396) (8.) Srinivasa Sastri to Sivaswami Aiyar, 13 April 1920, quoted in K. Dwarkadas, India’s Fight for Freedom (Bombay, 1966), p. 146.

(9.) Indian Social Reformer, 12 Sept. 1920.

(10.) M. R. Jayakar to C. R. Das, 6 Jan. 1923, Jayakar P.

(11.) Tej Bahadur Sapru to V. S. Sastri, 2 March 1923, Sastri P., NMML.

(12.) See Ch. 11, supra.

(13.) Francis Robinson, Separatism Among Indian Muslims (Cambridge, 1975), p. 352.

(14.) Indulal Yajnik, Gandhi as I knew Him (Delhi 1943), p. 305.

(15.) Abid Hussain, The Destiny of Indian Muslims (Bombay, 1965), p. 235.

(16.) P. C. Bamford, op. cit., app. G.

(17.) Ralph Russell and Khurshidul Islam, ‘Satirical Verse of Akbar Ilahabadi’, in Modern Asian Studies, vol. VIII, 1, 1974, p. 56.

(18.) N. R. Phatak (ed.), Source Material For a History of the Freedom Movement in India, vol. III, Mahatma Gandhi, pt. I (Bombay. 1965), p. 504.

(19.) Rumbold, op. cit., p. 193.

(20.) Reading to Peel, 21 Sept. 1922, Reading P.

(21.) Viceroy (Foreign and Pol Dept) to Secy of State for India, Teleg., 6 June 1921, Home Pol 1921, File 138, NA1.

(22.) In January 1922, the Home Member, Sir William Vincent advised the postponement of the prosecution of Hasrat Mohani lest it was interpreted as a ‘vindictive attitude’ directed against the Khilafat cause and the Mohamedan community. Action against Hasrat Mohani was to be taken simultaneously with action against Hindu leaders.

(23.) N. R. Phatak, op. cit., p. 512. 23.H. Montgomery Hyde, Lord Reading (London, 1967), pp. 371–2.

(24.) Home Pol 1922, File 501.

(26.) Muslim Outlook, 20 May 1920.

(27.) Rafiqe Afzal (ed.), Selected Speeches and Statements of Quaid-i-Azam Mohammad Ali Jinnah (Lahore 1966), pp. 61–2.

(28.) Khaliquzzaman, Pathway to Pakistan, p. 43.

(29.) Bombay Chronicle, 17 Nov. 1919.

(30.) Naeem Qureshi, ‘Quaid-i-Azam Jinnah and the Khilafat Movement’ in A. H. Dani (ed.), World Scholars On Quaid-i-Azam (Islamabad, 1979), p. 144.

(31.) Pirzada, op. cit., p. 544.

(32.) Islamic News, 30 June 1921, p. 9.

(33.) D. A. Low, op. cit., p. 254.

(33.) Viceroy to Secy of State, Teleg., 2 Nov. 1921, Reading P.

(34.) A. M. Zaidi, Evolution of Muslim Political Thought, vol. II (Delhi, 1980), p. 298.

(35.) I. H. Qureshi, Ulema in Politics (Karachi, 1972), p. 254.

(36.) F. Rahman, ‘Muslim Modernism in the Indo-Pakistan Sub-Continent’, in the Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies, XXI, I, 1958, p. 89.

(37.) C. F. Andrews, Zaka Ullah of Delhi (Cambridge, 1929), pp. 110–12.

(p.397) (38.) Home Pol, 1922, File 860.

(39.) Pirzada, op. cit., p. 500.

(40.) Nikki R. Keddie, An Islamic Response to Imperialism, Political and Religious Writings of Sayyid Jamal ad-Din al-Afghani (Berkeley, 1968), p. 69.

(41.) The Tribune, 29 March 1912.

(42.) I. H. Qureshi, op. cit., p. 251.

(43.) Syed Abdul Wahid (ed.), Thoughts and Reflections of Iqbal (Lahore, 1964), pp. 150–51.

(44.) M. Mujeeb, op. cit., Indian Muslims, p. 528.

(45.) Mushirul U. Haque, Muslim Politics in Modern India (Meerut, 1970), p. 148.

(46.) Ansari to Shaukat Ali, 14 May 1929, in Mushirul Hasan (ed.), Muslims and the Congress (Delhi, 1979), pp. 65–6.

(47.) Francis Robinson, Separatism Among Indian Muslims (Delhi, 1975), p. 420.

(48.) Daryabadi, A. M., Mohammed Ali: Zaati Diary Ke Chund Auraq, vol. I (Hyderabad, 1943), p. 155.

(49.) Afzal Iqbal, Life and Times of Mohamed Ali, p. 371.

(50.) Ibid., p. 381.

(51.) Ibid., p. 384.

(52.) Ibid., p. 382.

(53.) Mahadev Desai to Jawaharlal Nehru, 16 Sept. 1931.

(54.) Shaukat Ali to Mieville, P.S. to the Viceroy, 10 Aug. 1933. Home Pol, File 151 of 1933.

(55.) Ansari to Secy, Central Khilafat Committee, 16 July 1926, Ansari P.

(56.) Ansari to T. A. K. Sherwani, 6 Jan. 1930, Ansari P.

(57.) Motilal Nehru to Jawaharlal, 22 April 1926, Jawaharlal Nehru P.

(58.) Harcourt Butler to his mother, 23 April 1924, Butler P.

(59.) Willingdon to Hoare, 15 Feb. 1932, Templewood P.

(60.) Hardinge to Harcourt Butler. 23 July 1926, Butler P.

(61.) Ibid., 14 May 1927, Butler P.