Partha Chatterjee: No one, not even Indians, can claim to be part of an ancient nation
There are no ancient nations anywhere in the world. All nations (rāstra) are modern. Ancient Greece, ancient Egypt, ancient China, ancient India – all of them may have had great civilisations whose architecture, art, and literature are objects of admiration. But they were not nations. To realise this truth, you will have to forget for the time being the history you were taught at school. Because it is that history, drilled into your heads from the time you were children, and constantly renewed by national festivals and ceremonies, the speeches of your leaders, and novels, films, and television serials, that make it seem obvious to you that your nation is ancient.
But I will show you
that this is merely a conventional idea, a samskār. You take it for
granted because everyone says it is so. In actual fact, it is not true.
Your nation is not
– indeed no nation on earth is – ancient. Only modern people can imagine it
that way...
The Indian rashtra as
a nation-state has only been in existence since the middle of the twentieth
century. If you want to push that history a little further back by claiming
that the Indian National Congress as an organised political body was the Indian
rashtra in waiting, even that would not take you beyond the last decades of the
nineteenth century. The Indian nation would still be a very modern entity.
But, you may ask, what
about the great kingdoms and empires of the past? The empires of the Mauryas,
the Guptas, the Delhi Sultanate, Vijayanagara, the Mughals, the Marathas – were
they not great states? They certainly were. But they were empires, not nations.
The various parts of those states were held together by military force and
tribute-paying arrangements.
That is not how the
parts of a nation-state are supposed to be bound together. Even the Marathas
held territories outside the Maharashtra region by the regular use of armed
force and extraction of tribute from local rulers and populations who were
looked upon as subjected peoples. The Marathas too had an empire, not a nation.
Rabindranath Tagore's essay on the cult of the nation
If you think about
it carefully, the connection between nation and state, indicated by the word
rashtra, is established by a third term. That term is “the people” (lok).
When you talk about
the nation, you do not immediately think of natural resources or ancient ruins
or the Himalayas or the Vedas; you think of the people of India. Therein lies
the crucial difference between the ancient kingdoms and the modern
nation-state.
Asoka or Akbar may
have been great rulers; their subjects may even have been relatively happy and
prosperous (let us grant that, for argument’s sake). But the empire of
Asoka or Akbar was not based on the sovereignty of the people. No one
in those times could even think of such a concept. The people were subjects of
the emperor whom they regarded as the sovereign.
I am sure you know
that popular sovereignty is a very modern idea which emerged in Western Europe
and North America in the late eighteenth century, spread to South America and
other parts of Europe in the nineteenth, and then came to the countries of Asia
and Africa in the twentieth. The revolutionaries in France, claiming to speak
on behalf of the nation, demanded in 1789 that the people and not the king and
his nobles must rule. They cut off the king’s head.
In North, and later
South, America, the European settlers of the British and Spanish colonies declared
themselves as nations, rebelled against the British and Spanish empires and
proclaimed republics of the people. In Central and Eastern Europe, all through
the nineteenth century, various peoples declared themselves as nations and
demanded their own states. Without the claim to popular sovereignty,
there can be no nation-state or rashtra.
Therefore, all nations are
modern.
At this point, if your
mind is agile and you are following the discussion carefully, you may come back
with a counterargument.
Fair enough, you might
say: let us grant that the nation as state is a modern phenomenon. The
awareness of popular sovereignty and self-determination may also be something
that has spread across the world only in recent times. But what about the
people themselves? Can the people not be ancient? Could they
not have memories and traditions that are thousands of years old? Could not the
ancientness of culture give a people its identity?
I have to concede that
this is a serious argument that demands a careful response. So you will have to
be patient with me.
Imagine yourself at
Sarnath: you have probably visited the place before. What will you see there?
You will see an impressive structure which you may recognise as a Buddhist stupa. You will see a sandstone pillar which, you will be told, was ordered to be built by the Emperor Asoka in the third century before the Common Era. There are inscriptions on the pillar which you will not be able to read, unless you happen to be a specialist: the language is an eastern Prakrit which, if read out to you, may sound vaguely familiar, but the script is Brahmi which is no longer in use anywhere.
In the museum, you will
immediately recognise the lion capital of Asoka, made thoroughly familiar by
its reproduction on banknotes and government stationery. You will see the ruins
of a Buddhist vihara which, the tourist guide may tell you, was where more than
a thousand monks and scholars lived when the Chinese traveller Xuanzang visited
the place in the seventh century.
The entire place is
now an archaeological monument: no one lives there and the only people you will
see are tourists and pilgrims. The guidebook will tell you that the place
became famous because that is where Gautama Buddha first preached his dhamma.
Many of the things you see will seem quite familiar to you and, even if you
were visiting the place for the first time, you will feel an exciting sensation
of recognition.
But stop for a moment
and ask yourself: who were the people who lived here when the place was
inhabited and functional? What did they wear? What language did they speak?
What did they eat? Since we know that this was a Buddhist monastery and place
of pilgrimage, we could make the conditional inference that the people who
lived here were Buddhist monks and scholars. Therefore, they are likely to have
read, written, and spoken Pali. Some of them may even have been fluent in
Sanskrit.
Since we know that
monks and scholars came to Sarnath from many places in India and elsewhere,
they must have also brought with them their native languages which not everyone
would have understood. What about the people who lived in the neighbouring
villages – the farmers and artisans and traders? What language did they speak?
Well, they certainly
did not speak Hindi as everyone in the area does now, because the Hindi
language did not exist then. They probably spoke some variety of what the
Brahmans call Prakrit (assigning it the lowly status of a coarse dialect
carrying the pungent smell of virgin soil and wild forests, as distinct from
their own supremely refined devăbhāsā, the language presumably
spoken by the gods). Anyway, whatever variety of Prakrit these people may have
spoken, I can assure you that you would not have understood any of it.
What did they wear?
What did they eat? Modern historians have scoured through religious and
literary texts and examined inscriptions and archaeological artefacts to come
up with some answers. These are conditional inferences that you will find in
history books. They are all valuable information – I am by no means denying
that.
But what makes you
believe that those people living in and around Sarnath fifteen hundred years
ago were your people? What is it that ties you and others of your kind – let us
call them modern Indians – to those people in the ancient past?
Let me give you
another set of examples. Make one more imaginative journey and take yourself to
the pyramids of Egypt or, if you prefer, the Parthenon in Greece. I have never
been to those places but have seen pictures. Once again, you will be faced with
impressive structures that come from ancient times. Of course, you know they
are ancient only because archaeologists and historians have told you so; how
else could a non-expert tell simply by looking at the stones how old they are?
But you know the
pyramids (including the gigantic Sphinx) at the edge of the desert in Giza and
the Parthenon on top of the hill in Athens are ancient monuments that have
become famous icons of ancient Egyptian and Greek civilisations. They will be
both familiar and unfamiliar to you, in the same way that Sarnath was, because
you will know something about the people who lived there in ancient times, and
may find out more about them by going to the library or searching the internet.
There will also be much that you will not know.
But would you ever
feel that the people of ancient Egypt or Greece were your people? Never. So
here is my question to you: what is it that makes you imagine the people
of ancient Sarnath as your people but not those of ancient Egypt or
Athens?
The answer is obvious,
you will tell me. The remains of Sarnath are in the territorial region we call
India; those of ancient Egypt or Greece are somewhere else, far away. It is
geography that binds together the people of India today with those of ancient
India.
To clarify your
answer, let me ask you to do one more imaginative experiment: I promise this
will be the last time I will ask you to do this. Imagine yourself walking
through the ruins of Mohenjo-daro, the famous ancient city of the Indus Valley
(or Harappan) civilisation.
I did visit the place
once some years ago. With its brick houses arranged in straight lines and
rectangular blocks, a central marketplace, public buildings, baths, and covered
drains, the planned city seems to have been built by a people with a
sophisticated culture. There are debates among scholars about who those people were:
we will come to that subject presently.
But everyone is agreed
that these ruins representing the urban phase of the Indus civilisation are
from a period between 2600 BCE and 1900 BCE. They are also the earliest
examples that have been found so far of an ancient high culture in the Indian
subcontinent.
But remember,
Mohenjo-daro is now located in Sindh province in Pakistan. If you are an Indian
citizen, you will probably have some difficulty getting there. Does that pose a
problem for modern Indians to claim its history as their own? Could you say, in
the same way that you did in the case of Sarnath, that the people who lived in
Mohenjo-daro four or five thousand years ago were your people?
I know that is an easy
question to answer. You will smile and say, “We have already decided that the
nation-state is a modern creation but a people may be ancient. So why should
the present boundaries of the nation-states of Pakistan and India prevent
Indians from claiming the Indus civilisation as their own?” It is a good
answer.
But just to be aware
of the implications, let me point out that history textbooks in Pakistan also
begin with the story of the Harappan civilisation and claim the ancient people
of the Indus valley as their people. They continue the story into the Vedic period
and the rise of Buddhism in which Punjab and the north-western region of
Pakistan played a very important part, the ancient city of Taxila being the
major centre from where the Buddhist faith travelled to Central Asia and China.
That history is not inconsistent
with your answer. The people of the modern nation-state of Pakistan claim as
their own, for reasons of geography, the ancient tradition associated with the
lower and upper Indus valley civilisations as well as Taxila, even though they
date the beginning of the Pakistani nation from the Arab conquest of parts of
Sindh in the year 711. But it means that the same ancient history and
tradition may be claimed by different peoples; it may not be the exclusive
property of one nation. Ancient history is like an inheritance shared
by many. But your nationalist leaders will not be satisfied with that answer...
Scholars holding the
view that the Vedic peoples were immigrants who came after the decline of the
Harappa cities point to the following pieces of evidence. Linguistic analysis
suggests that the Rig Veda hymns were not much older than the gāthā of
the ancient Persian Avesta which are dated at around 700 BCE. Hence, the Vedic
peoples were certainly later than the peoples of the Indus-Harappa civilisation.
Further, Vedic
Sanskrit adopted many loanwords from Dravidian languages to refer to various
material objects of common use. It also adopted the retroflex or mūrdhanya consonants...common
to most Indian languages but absent in other Indo-European languages. The
retroflex appears to have entered Sanskrit from the Dravidian or Mundari
languages spoken in India.
Then there is the
continued existence of stray Dravidian language speakers in northern India,
such as the Brahui speakers of Balochistan, the Kurukh of Nepal, and the Oraon
and Gond of central India. Finally, textual evidence suggests beyond any doubt
that the Vedic peoples were adept in the use of horses and chariots with spoked
wheels. To this day, there is no clear evidence that the Indus-Harappa people
used horses.
Recent scholars
have been led by this evidence to conclude that, contrary to the old Aryan
invasion story, the Aryan peoples migrated from Central Asia to northern India
and, rather than driving the Dravidians to the south, largely mingled with the
indigenous population, gradually absorbing them into a new social order marked
by hierarchies and discrimination, assimilation as well as exclusion, cohesion
as well as conflict.
But the idea of the
Vedic Aryans as immigrants unsettles the deep nationalist desire to claim an
ancient past for the Indian people. The heritage of an ancient civilisation
whose record is preserved in the large Sanskrit literary canon and whose
achievements rival those of classical Greece, as certified by leading European
Orientalists, is held with enormous pride by modern Indians.
That pride is severely
dented if it has to be admitted that the Vedic Aryans were not the original
inhabitants of this country and instead came from somewhere in Central Asia. Not
only that, it is another blow to nationalist pride if it is claimed that there
was in fact an earlier great civilisation in the Indus valley bearing no
relation to the Vedic people – one whose language and culture are unknown and
whose subsequent fate remains to be investigated. Nationalist ideology is
impatient with such cautious judgments...
Excerpted with permission from The Truths And Lies Of Nationalism: As Narrated by Charvak, Partha Chatterjee, Permanent Black in association with Ashoka University
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