The NS on Amritsar in 1919: “We hold India by the sword and rule her by fear”

A historical note.

On his final day in India, David Cameron laid a wreath and signed a memorial book of condolence in order to express his regret over the massacre at the Jallianwala Bagh public gardens in 1919. The slaughter, led by British Brigadier-General Reginald Dyer, was reported in Britain in a variety of ways. “Those who defended Dyer look, with hindsight, as though they were so blinded by the mythology of Empire that they could not see the simply inhumanity of what had been done,” Iain Martin has written for the Telegraph – a newspaper which, at the time, defended the “Butcher of Amritsar”. The final death toll is still contested.

Below is the New Statesman’s account of the event and the public reaction that followed. The piece, published in December 1919 after the Hunter Commission, reminds readers that Dyer's actions were a particularly ugly product of relatively mainstream sentiments back home. It attempts to place the massacre within the wider context of British imperialism: “Fundamentally, the Amritsar massacre was merely a corollary of the conditions of British rule in India. If General Dyer had not been there to fire upon the crowd some other soldier would have done it … The truth, which cannot and must not be ignored or evaded, is that we hold India by the sword and rule her by fear.”

The Common Sense of Coercion

Everyone, it appears, is inexpressibly shocked by the story of the Amritsar massacre. And indeed the crude horror of the picture presented by General Dyer himself, in his evidence before the Hunter Committee, would be hard to match even amongst the most appalling incidents of the Great War. Ten minutes' steady rifle fire at close quarters upon a great crowd of unarmed and unresisting men and women, resulting in about five hundred people being killed and another fifteen hundred being wounded and left to groan where they lay for a day and a night—neither the Germans in Belgium nor the Bolsheviks in Russia were ever, we believe, accused of any act quite so horrible. No doubt, as General Dyer declared, the incident was calculated to “make a wide impression throughout the Punjab.” It was a very thorough piece of frightfulness—too thorough, apparently, for the stomachs of even the fiercest of fire-eating Imperialists in this country, for no attempt appears to have been made to defend it in any quarter.

But though the fact that General Dyer finds no apologists over here may be in one sense a matter for congratulation, in another it has a somewhat disquieting significance. For it surely indicates a very widespread failure to appreciate the conditions of our rule in India. In Anglo-India where those conditions are comprehended and accepted, General Dyer, we have no doubt, will find not only plenty of apologists but plenty of whole-hearted champions who will maintain that by his decisive action at a critical moment he saved the whole British Raj, or at the least averted a tragedy that would have involved scores of thousands instead of only a few hundreds of lives. And it is important that the Anglo-Indian point of view should be understood. To treat the incident as a unique outrage due to the accidental presence on the spot, and in temporarily supreme authority, of a peculiarly brutal type of soldier, is to overlook its real significance. It is true that certain details brought out at the enquiry seem to indicate that General Dyer is a man of exceptionally insensitive temperament. His repudiation of responsibility regarding the wounded and his stupid “crawling” order, will not, we imagine, be defended even in India. But stripping the story of these details—and though they have done much to move English public sentiment, they are essentially only details—what General Dyer did is probably no more than what nine Indian Army officers out of ten would have done in the same circumstances, provided they had the courage. And the tenth would have acted otherwise as the result of the possession of a cooler intelligence rather than of more humane sentiments.

Consider the position. A large part of Northern India was seething with sedition. Violent outbreaks were occurring simultaneously in widely separated districts. There had been fighting in Delhi and Lahore. Officials had been murdered. Systematic attempts at various points to wreck trains, seize railway stations and sever telegraphic communications, conclusively showed the existence of a widespread and well-organised revolutionary plot, behind which loomed the terrifying spectre of “Bolshevism.” In Amritsar itself a bank had been attacked, looted and burnt, two bank managers had been killed, the Town Hall had been burnt, a Mission station had been raided, an Englishwoman had been beaten almost to death and the city was practically in the hands of the rioters. Such a state of affairs had never been known in India since the days of the Mutiny and many men believed that the British Raj was face to face with a second Mutiny on, perhaps, an even larger scale. General Dyer was called in by the civil authorities to restore order. He promptly proclaimed martial law—a proceeding which was probably in excess of his technical powers but was not otherwise unreasonable in the circumstances—and forbade meetings or assemblies in the streets. He caused an order to this effect to be proclaimed in all quarters of the city and himself took an energetic part in making it known. A few hours later, however, he heard that in defiance of the order a crowd of five thousand people had assembled and was being harangued by an “agitator.” There were only a hundred British and two hundred native soldiers in the city. The lives of the tiny European colony depended on General Dyer; and if visions of Cawnpore and the Black Hole of Calcutta rose before his eyes, who are we, in the safety of London, to say that those visions were mere idle imaginings? When white men believe that white women under their protection, in the midst of a huge coloured population, are in danger there are very few steps they will shrink from in their defence. That is a fact of human nature, not a peculiarity of General Dyer's. General Dyer decided upon a step of extreme severity in order to save the situation; he saved it, and we do not suppose that a single white man who was in the city at the time condemned him for the excessive brutality of the means he adopted. The resident civil commissioner evidently acquiesced, and the Lieutenant-Governor of the Province subsequently telegraphed his approval.

Needless to say, we have set out the facts in this manner not in order to defend General Dyer's action or to minimise the horror of the massacre, but rather as a protest against the idea that the British public can escape its responsibility in the matter by denouncing this particular officer as a criminal and demanding his punishment. Fundamentally, the Amritsar massacre was merely a corollary of the conditions of British rule in India. If General Dyer had not been there to fire upon the crowd some other soldier would have done it. Another man might have been content to kill fewer people and might have concerned himself with the subsequent care of the wounded, but almost certainly in the circumstances he would have shot and shot to kill. The truth, which cannot and must not be ignored or evaded, is that we hold India by the sword and rule her by fear. There is no other way by which a population of three hundred millions can be governed by a handful of foreigners. The justice of the British Raj and the benefits which it has conferred on the Indian population are not here in question. The Indian people may be very foolish, very unappreciative of the disadvantages and dangers of any practicable alternative, but they do not want British rule and, at bottom, nothing but force induces them to submit to it. We hold India by the sword and as long as that is true, we must be prepared to use the sword in an emergency—or go. We may, by wise government, contrive to keep it in its sheath for half a century, but when the emergency arises there must be no hesitation in drawing it; and sooner or later the emergency is bound to arise. General Dyer's view is that by shooting 500 people he averted the necessity of shooting perhaps 50,000 in the course of suppressing a general rising in the Province. And who is to say that that view is incorrect? The essential and governing fact is that the British administration in India is attempting to rule a nation or a number of nations against their will; and, having accepted responsibility for that attempt, we at home have no right to hold up our hands in horror of those who do the dirty part of the job for us.

The moral of Amritsar is not that a particular soldier is a very brutal person, but that force is force and that it is both useless and dishonest to pretend that it is anything else. We are certainly not prepared to say that England ought never to have taken India and held it as she has held it, still less of course that she ought now to abandon precipitately the responsibilities which she has assumed and accumulated in that vast Empire. But where we are manifestly at fault is in our failure to introduce democratic institutions concurrently with the spread of democratic ideas. We can rule our African dependencies—Nigeria, for example—without massacres, because the Nigerian population has not absorbed and is not yet ready to absorb, the doctrines of Mill and Mazzini. But in India the danger of our being forced to use the sword increases with every year by which self-government is delayed. It is a danger which must be frankly faced. If there should be signs of a rising next year in some other part of India there will have to be more shootings. But when these unfortunate necessities arise we must not attempt to throw the blame on the man on the spot, even though his judgment may have erred, but accept it ourselves and do what can be done to hasten the application of the only possible remedy. Mr Montagu's Act is a great step forward, but it is only a beginning and it comes a decade late. If it had been passed ten years ago and had been developed with all practicable speed by subsequent measures leading towards self-government, it is probable that the Amritsar massacre would never have occurred. But we can see no other means by which this incident, which has stained our national reputation in the eyes of the whole civilised world, could have been surely been averted.

Once a policy of coercion is adopted it is impossible to define its limits. To suppose that it can be conducted on liberal and humane lines is a sentimental illusion. Its character is determined not by the Government which coerces but by the people who are coerced. The ruled can drive the rulers to any excesses they please. That is the essential vice of coercion. Applied to a nation which is politically conscious and awake it is not the vindication but the negation of government. The process may be observed in Ireland at this moment. The Irish Executive is powerless not only to govern the country but even to determine its own acts. It is being led willy-nilly into all sorts of indefensible extravagances. Whether the “Liberal” Mr Macpherson, in the course of the next few weeks or months, will be using machine-guns in the streets of Dublin depends not at all upon his own views or his own political principles but simply upon whether the Sinn Fein leaders consider it advisable or not to invite such a measure. The coercionist—unless, of course, he is prepared to surrender—can shrink from nothing and determine nothing. If his victims choose that he shall act like a Tsar, a Tsar he must become. If they wish to be imprisoned wholesale he must imprison them wholesale. If they wish to be massacred he must massacre them. Coercion, in however mild a form it may originally be adopted, implies the absolute abandonment of every principle of freedom or democracy. It is the rule of the sword and the most brutal excesses of the sword are implicit in it from its very beginning. Having admitted it—inevitably—as the foundation of our rule in India we cannot evade responsibility for its consequences by making scapegoats of our General Dyers.

Unsigned, 20 December 1919

 

David Cameron arrives at the Jallianwala Bagh memorial. Photo: Getty Images.
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No, Jeremy Corbyn is not antisemitic – but the left should be wary of who he calls friends

The Labour MP's tendency to seek out unsavoury comrades is a symptom of an intellectual and political malady: the long-term ideological corruption of that part of the left in which he was formed.

“The scientist is not a person who gives the right answers,” said the French anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss. “He’s one who asks the right questions.”

The British novelist Howard Jacobson is not a scientist, but he has asked the right question about the rise of Jeremy Corbyn, the improbable-but-likely next leader of the Labour party. Here it is:  “Why can’t we oppose the inequities of a society weighted in favour of wealth, and all the trash that wealth accumulates, without at the same time having to snuggle up to Putin, pal out with Hamas, and make apologies for extremists?”

One answer to the Jacobson Question has been offered by Yasmin Alibhai Brown, a defender of Corbyn. His “tendency for unchecked inclusiveness”, as she delicately puts it, is due to his “naivety”. But that explanation will not do. We won’t find the answer in one man’s naivety, especially not a 67-year-old with a lifetime of political experience behind him.

We must go deeper, reading Corbyn’s undoubted tendency to snuggle, to pal out and to apologise as a symptom of an intellectual and political malady: the long-term ideological corruption of that part of the left in which he was formed.

This corrupting ideology can be called “campism”. It has caused parts of the left to abandon  universal progressive values rooted in the Enlightenment and sign up instead as foot soldiers in what they see as the great contest between – these terms change over time, as we will see – “Progressive” versus “Reactionary” nations, “Imperialism” versus “Anti-Imperialism”,  “Oppressed” versus “Oppressor” peoples, “The Empire” versus “The Resistance”, or simply “Power” versus “The Other”.

Again and again, the curse of campism has dragged the political left down from the position of intellectual leader and agenda-setter to that of political irrelevance, or worse, an apologist for tyranny. 

Only when we register the grip of this ideology will we understand why some leftwingers march around London waving placards declaring “We are all Hezbollah now!”. Only the power of the ideology accounts for the YouGov poll that showed 51 per cent of Jeremy Corbyn’s supporters believe America is the “greatest single threat to world peace”, and one in four think a “secretive elite” controls the globe.

The intellectual history of campism has three chapters.  

In the short 20th century, it took the form of Stalinism, a social system that was at once anti-capitalist and totalitarian, and that spread a set of corrupting mental habits that utterly disorientated the left.

Clinging to the dogma that it must have been some kind of socialism that had replaced capitalism, many imagined themselves to be involved in a “great contest” between the capitalist camp and the (imperfect) socialist camp. And that ruined them. They became critical supporters of totalitarianism – notwithstanding their knowledge of the show trials, mass killings, gulags, political famines, and military aggressions; notwithstanding the fact that they themselves were not totalitarians.

The result was the slow erasure of those habits of mind, sensibilities and values of an older leftwing culture rooted in the Enlightenment. In its place the Stalinist-campist left posited lesser-evilism, political cynicism, power-worship, authoritarianism, and sophisticated apologias for tyranny.

In the Sixties and Seventies, the New Left created liberatory social movements that changed the face of the western world for the better. But the New Left was also a cheerleader or apologist for one third world authoritarian “progressive” regime after another, including Maoist China, a monstrous regime responsible for the deaths of tens of millions of “its own” people. Believing the world was divided into an imperialist “centre” exploiting a “periphery”, the New Left thought its duty was to support the latter against the former.

And when the baby boomers grew older and made their way into the universities and publishing houses, they formed the global creative class that has been reshaping every aspect of our intellectual culture ever since. Again, much of that reshaping has been a boon. Schooling us all in the anti-imperialism of idiots, and the romantic cult of the transformative power of revolutionary violence, has not.

After 1989, much of the left didn’t miss a beat. It quickly developed a theory that the world was now made up of a “Resistance” to “Empire”. Here was yet another reductive dualism. But this time there was barely any positive content at all, so campism took the shape of spectacularly inchoate and implacable negativism.

The result has been immense political disorientation, political cross-dressing, and moral debasement across swathes of the left. How else to explain the leftwing social theorist Judith Butler’s astonishing claim that, “understanding Hamas, Hezbollah as social movements that are progressive, that are on the left, that are part of a global left, is extremely important”?

When we understand how campism creates that kind of ideology-saturated and captive mind, we can better understand Corbyn’s choice of comrades and answer the Jacobson Question. 

The ideology demands two commitments. First, “Down With Us!” – the commitment to oppose the West as malign. Second, “Victory to the Resistance!” – the commitment to side with, or to apologise for, or to refuse to criticise, any “resistance” to the West.

The commitment to oppose every projection of force by the West as malign underpins Corbyn’s commitments to unilateral nuclear disarmament and withdrawal from Nato, his attitude to the IRA, and to Putin, and his false equating of the actions of Isis and the coalition in Iraq.

Corbyn will withdraw the UK from Nato because it is the military organisation of the West and therefore “imperialist”. He turns the world inside out and “blames the USA and Nato rather than Putin’s imperialistic Russia for the crisis in Ukraine,” notes Labour MP Mike Gapes.

I believe Corbyn would lead Britain into a warmer relationship with Putin’s Russia, and even thinks it was a bad thing that Poland was ever “allowed” to join Nato.

Astonishingly, given recent history, he also argues that Poland should have, “gone down the road Ukraine went down in 1990”. Corbyn opposes all military support to Ukraine and seems quite uninterested in the Ukrainian bid for freedom from Russian control. What matters much more to him is adherence to the campist ideology: “The self-satisfied pomposity of western leaders in lecturing the world about morality and international law has to be challenged,” he rails.

Campism also explains Corbyn’s comparison of the actions of Isis today and the actions of the coalition forces during the Iraq war. And those comments have a precedent of sorts. Corbyn was national chair of Stop the War during the Iraq war when the leadership circulated a statement that supported the “right” of the “resistance” to use “whatever means they find necessary”. At that point, the so-called resistance was targeting democrats, including the free trade union leader Hadi Saleh.

The second commitment of the campist left has been to side with, or apologise for, or refuse to sharply criticise, the so-called resistance camp. Without understanding this, Corbyn’s apologies for the Muslim cleric Raed Salah remain a mystery, his attitude to the IRA or the antisemitic Islamist terror groups Hamas and Hezbollah will seem harmless, even ahead-of-his-time diplomacy, and the idea that he indulges antisemitism will appear to be a “slur” by a “lobby”.

Corbyn has defended the antisemitic Raed Salah in these terms: “He represents his people extremely well and his is a voice that must be heard . . . I look forward to giving you tea on the terrace because you deserve it.”

In fact, Salah was found guilty of spreading the blood libel – the classic antisemitic slander that Jews use the blood of gentile children to make their bread – reportedly during a speech on February 2007 in the East Jerusalem neighbourhood of Wadi Joz.

Corbyn said he has no memory of meeting Dyab Abou Jahjah. Within minutes, Twitter was running photographs of Corbyn sitting next to Abou Jahjah – the Lebanese extremist who said, “I consider every death of an American, British or Dutch soldier as a victory” – at a public meeting.

Jahjah then boasted on Twitter of his “collaboration with Jeremy Corbyn” and insisted that Corbyn was “absolutely a political friend”. Again, it seems that Jahjah, being part of the “resistance camp”, according to the ideology, was simply beyond criticism.

It did not seem to matter that Jahjah reportedly referred to gay people as “Aids spreading fagots”, and was arrested in Antwerp for organising a riot. Or that he claimed to have published anti-Jewish cartoons showing Hitler and 15-year-old Anne Frank naked in bed with the caption: “Put that in your diary Anne”.

As the Community Security Trust commented: “I am sure that Corbyn would be the first to condemn Holocaust denial. The problem is not that Corbyn is an antisemite or a Holocaust denier – he is neither. The problem is that he seems to gravitate towards people who are, if they come with an anti-Israel sticker on them.”

Hezbollah comes with the mother of all anti-Israel stickers. That is why – although Corbyn knows that it is a radical Shia militant group that has subverted Lebanese democracy, actively supported Bashar al-Assad's brutality in Syria, and seeks the destruction of Israel – he nonetheless (and campism is a politics of “nonetheless”) tells the left that Hezbollah are our “friends”.

Hamas too. Corbyn also calls the Palestinian Islamist group his “friends” and argues that the organisation should not be called “terrorist”. Yet Corbyn knows that Amnesty International believes Hamas to be guilty of war crimes, torture, abductions, and summarily killing civilians. He knows that when five Jews praying in a synagogue were murdered, along with the heroic Druze policeman who came to their aid, in 2014, Hamas welcomed the attack, calling it a “quality development”. They even called it a “terror attack” – embracing the label Corbyn says they do not deserve.

The problem is not that Corbyn agrees with what all these people say. It is that he agrees with who they are: the Resistance to Empire. The apologies and the contortions and the evasions all begin there.

And then there are the Jews.

The concern here is not that Corbyn indulges in antisemitism. He does not. The concern is that he is has associated with others who have. The concern is that, when he is faced with what is called the “new antisemitism”, he is lost. At best, he is an innocent abroad who – oddly, in the age of “Google it!” – can’t seem to work out who is who, or what is what.

Writing for openDemocracy about Corbyn, Keith Kahn-Harris expresses scepticism about Corbyn’s explanation of his choice of comrades. “Although he has defended his contacts with Islamists, the IRA and others as a contribution to peace-making,” Kahn-Harris notes. “Corbyn does not have the deep relationships across the spectrum [or] the even-handedness that this would entail.”

What strikes Kahn-Harris most about Corbyn’s record is something else entirely: that he “is constantly predisposed to be at least convivial towards a broad swathe of those who see themselves as opposed to ‘the west’.”

He goes on: “Much of what appears to be [Corbyn’s] openness does indeed reflect engrained political pathologies.”

And that has been the claim of this essay, too: we have to look to those ingrained political pathologies – I have used the short-hand label “campism” to describe them – to answer the Jacobson Question.

Alan Johnson is the editor of Fathom: for a deeper understanding of Israel and the region and senior research fellow at the Britain Israel Communications and Research Centre (BICOM).