Sixteen Stormy Days

by Tripurdaman Singh

  The passage of the Uttar Pradesh Zamindari Abolition and Land Reform Bill—with its purported intent to liberate 7.5 million farmers and free 34 million acres of land from ‘near-feudal ownership’ and its torturous reckoning with close to 1300 amendments and 1450 speeches4—brought questions about the constitutional status of land reform and redistribution squarely to the centre of political discourse. Nehru’s letter to his chief ministers making the case for a potential constitutional amendment if the law continued to come in his way only served to highlight the seminal importance of it to the government. Combined with the question of reservations and the still turbulent situation in Bengal, it meant that apart from the usual ‘personal and group predilections’, larger issues of policy and ideology became part and parcel of the negotiations within the party regarding the next incumbent of the office of Congress president, who was to be elected.5

  In Madras, where the septuagenarian DK leader E.V. Ramasamy Periyar had been pushed into quietude by his controversial marriage to Maniammai, a party worker almost forty years his junior—triggering a split with his chief lieutenant C.N. Annadurai and the formation of the DMK party—the judgment revived the separatist strand of politics. At a DK rally, Periyar declared that if the Supreme Court upheld the high court’s judgment, then the only remedy was to change the Constitution—or the creation of a separate Dravidistan6 in which laws would be more suitable to the ‘people of the south’.7 Congress and Parliament, however, would not change the Constitution, he taunted, because they were dominated by north Indians.8 ‘Crusaders for a separate Dravidistan are once again on the march, using this time as their shield the Communal Order on admissions to colleges, declared unconstitutional recently by the Madras High Court,’ reported an alarmed Times of India.9

  On the other side, the long-running consultations between the Bihar government and the special Cabinet Committee constituted to examine the Bihar Land Reforms Bill and the question of compensation came to a conclusion. After almost two months of talks, on 20 August, the committee—which included Law Minister B.R. Ambedkar, Finance Minister C.D. Deshmukh and Labour Minister Jagjivan Ram—decided to recommend to Chief Minister Sri Krishna Sinha and Revenue Minister K.B. Sahay that the zamindari system should be abolished and compensation paid to landholders through bonds redeemable over a period of forty years.10 Curiously, it failed to either notice or address the proverbial elephant in the room as far as the bill was concerned: its staggered scale of compensation where the rate of compensation went down as the size of the landholding went up. It is impossible to determine with any degree of certainty whether the committee simply glossed over this aspect or deliberately chose to ignore it. Notwithstanding, they left the bill in constitutionally dubious territory.

  The recommendation was also extraordinary for other reasons. Three of the committee’s members—C. Rajagopalachari, K.M. Munshi and B.R. Ambedkar—had also been members of the Subcommittee on Fundamental Rights in the Constituent Assembly. It had discussed and debated squaring land reform with the fundamental right to property, and it was courtesy those deliberations that the right to property had been written as a separate article, disassociated from the right to life and liberty—with the personal approval of Munshi, Rajagopalachari and Ambedkar. It was precisely for this reason that Article 31 provided that no person could be deprived of his property save by the authority of a validly enacted law, and this law had to be for a public purpose and provide for a mechanism of compensation. Article 31 permitted the law enacted by the legislature to determine levels of compensation rather than prescribe an abstract principle—and it was thought that this would allow the government to meet anticipated legal challenges from landholders by reducing the potential for judicial interference in the process.11

  Within the Congress, and indeed within the Constituent Assembly, there had been considerable division regarding the right to property and the extent to which judicial interference might be permitted. The Congress leadership was of the view that courts should be entirely prevented from going into questions about the quantum of compensation. After much debate and dissent, ‘it was largely felt that the final version of Article 31 was a compromise suitable to all’.12 This version empowered the state to acquire private property provided it was for a public purpose and under the provisions of a validly enacted law, and entailed some compensation. It was felt that the quantum of compensation would thus be framed by the state assemblies in their zamindari abolition legislation, and the courts would not be able to judge the justness or fairness of the compensation mechanisms so prescribed. It was hoped all judicial scrutiny of compensation would be avoided this way.

  Given this background, the members of the special committee not only ignored their own previous experience in framing the underlying constitutional framework, but also failed to address the most contentious part of the bill. Still, the Central government’s nod with a minor tweak to the method of compensation effectively gave the go-ahead for a presidential assent and brought matters to a head. The issue could not be brushed under the carpet any longer. There was only one distraction remaining: the election of the new Congress president. That got out of the way soon enough.

  On 2 September, in the teeth of Nehru’s opposition and despite his threats of resignation,13 Purushottam Das Tandon was elected Congress president with Patel’s support, defeating Acharya Kripalani in a keenly and bitterly fought contest and bringing to the fore another man known for his differences with Nehru and his proclivity for what has often been termed ‘soft’ Hindu nationalism.14 It was Patel’s last effort to make Nehru understand that his will was not law with the Congress.15 A disgruntled Acharya Kripalani nevertheless described Tandon’s election as proof that ‘the totalitarian trends inherent in the new regime have not yet completely swallowed up our (Congress’s) organization’.16 From such a senior and long-standing figure in the Congress,17 the reference to totalitarian tendencies in the new regime was prescient and chilling. Surprisingly, few took the warning seriously at the time. Unsurprisingly, Tandon would fail to stay in his seat beyond the first year of his three-year term.

  At one level, internal conflict and manoeuvring within the party intensified. At another, important constitutional questions became a matter of discussion. And political attention again focused on the Land Reforms Bill in Bihar.

  High stakes, higher politics

  By early September, the bill had found its way to the Union Cabinet for its approval and advice to the president, and on 7 September, the Times of India breathlessly and expectantly reported that the assent of the president was expected any day.18 Even when the government finally came to a decision, it was panned for the delay, which was believed to have led to a decline in Congress prestige, a loss of faith in its pledges and frustration among the peasantry. ‘Somewhat rusty and dilatory as the official machinery has become under the Congress regime,’ wrote one commentator, ‘there was little excuse for such a delay in regard to this particular measure.’19 ‘Perhaps it is wrong to expect such an effort from a party that in spite of its manifestoes and resolutions,’ he added sarcastically, ‘ . . . has proved its incapacity to allot proper priorities and tackle those factors first which keep this nation underfed, disease-ridden, illiterate and in the grip of indescribable poverty.’20

  Subjected to censure by the press and insistent appeals from the Bihar Congress, the Union Cabinet met to consider the bill on 9 September, and there and then advised President Rajendra Prasad to certify the bill, which had originally been sent to him for assent in June.21 After months of preparation and discussion, the moment of revolution had finally arrived. There was no going back.

  The president, who for his part had opposed the idea of class conflict and had spent much of his time as Congress leader in Bihar attempting to bring about an amicable settlement between landlords and tenants,22 balked at the advice that had been tendered to him. He was no revolutionary, and had only truly wanted either stronger tenancy laws and a change in the behaviour of
the zamindars, or failing that, zamindari abolition with full and just compensation to landholders. He had already let the prime minister and the Cabinet know about his views in this regard via a minute sent on 8 September—a minute that had been read out aloud in the Cabinet and then promptly ignored by the prime minister and his colleagues.23

  The highest constitutional functionary in the country was astonished by the Cabinet’s response. Having presided over the Constituent Assembly and thus being well aware that the government was treading on thin constitutional ice as far as the right to property and the question of compensation were concerned, Rajendra Prasad tarried by asking Attorney General M.C. Setalvad for his opinions, both on the Bihar bill vis-à-vis Article 31 and more controversially, on the general powers of the president to accept or reject the advice of his council of ministers.24 Ideologically opposed to radical socialism and committed to respecting the fundamental rights guaranteed in the Constitution, Prasad played for time—and more legally sound advice.

  From Bombay, where he had been recuperating after an illness—and hence had been unable to attend the crucial Cabinet meeting—Sardar Patel wrote to Nehru counselling caution. ‘As you know, the President is rather strong in his convictions on this problem,’ wrote Patel, ‘and I think we should avoid giving any impression that such a well-considered note of his met with a summary reception at the hands of the cabinet.’ ‘I would suggest,’ he urged Nehru, ‘that the note might be referred to the Home and Law Ministries for joint consultation.’25 But the prime minister was in no mood to wait. With the election of a right-wing Patel protégé as Congress president,26 a pivotal and potentially bruising session of the Congress coming up at Nasik, continuing communal problems in Bengal, unrelenting criticism in the press and big defeats in the courts, Nehru was desperate to reassert control and fight back. He was now a man on a mission.

  ‘I find from the Home Ministry that they have not yet received your certificate for the Bihar Land Bill,’ he curtly informed President Prasad.

  Yesterday I conveyed to you the request of the Cabinet . . . and I also pointed out that there was a certain urgency about the matter which has been delayed long enough. I do not know what difficulty has arisen now to postpone this still further. I would request you, therefore, again to be good enough to certify this Bill. Any other course would render my position as Prime Minister and that of the Government difficult.27

  A flummoxed Rajendra Prasad responded by informing Nehru that in view of the urgency he attached to the matter, a presidential assent would be given without waiting for the Attorney-General’s opinion.28 The bill was duly certified the same evening on 11 September. With the bill now secure in his hand, the prime minister turned his mind to Patel. ‘The Cabinet was strongly of the opinion that the advice tendered by them to the President should be acted upon, both from the constitutional and the practical points of view,’ he peremptorily informed his deputy, ‘ . . . I do not think, therefore, that any occasion arises now for a reference of the Bill to the Law or Home Ministry.’29

  Now firmly in the driving seat, Nehru declared to the press that the Congress had laid down the policy of putting an end to the jagirdari and zamindari systems in order to attain a prosperous peasantry. This now had to be given effect to as speedily as possible.30 The news of the presidential assent evoked mixed feelings in Bihar. Large zamindars, already preparing for a legal showdown, served legal notices on the state government demanding that their estates not be acquired under the Bihar Land Reforms Act, which inter alia was unconstitutional and ultra vires of the legislature.31 The secretariat busied itself in adapting the compensation schedule to comply with the Union Cabinet’s recommendation and prepared to launch its agrarian revolution.32 The die was cast.

  Meanwhile in UP, the state government had woken up to smell the judicial coffee that had been brewed in Madras and ‘directed that the existing orders providing for communal representation in services in cases in which recruitment is not made by competitive tests cannot stand and are accordingly abrogated’.33 The government’s direction brought home to everyone that communal reservations were now a constitutional anathema, and judicial decisions in faraway Madras had profound consequences across the length and breadth of the country. It was in these circumstances, with weighty constitutional questions begging answers, that the Congress party gathered at Nasik for its first general session in the new republic.

  Nehru ascendant

  The election of Purushottam Das Tandon, much against his wishes and in spite of his threats of resignation, had so angered Nehru that he had decided to refrain from joining the new Congress Working Committee. He had already communicated his decision to Patel, and continued to hold out his threat of resigning from the government and refusing to work with the new guard. As the Nasik session of the Congress approached, Tandon, who was already facing brickbats from Kripalani and others, was equally anxious to avoid further internecine conflict and bridge the gap that was threatening to grow into a yawning chasm between the two wings of the organization. He was willing to concede ground in order to avert a public clash with the prime minister.

  Nehru sensed an opportunity. ‘Among many people who supported Tandon, there is now a feeling that they should do their utmost to please me and prevent me from taking any further step. Hence their desire to pass resolutions sponsored by me,’ he wrote to his sister Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit, then India’s ambassador to the United States.34 ‘But I am quite clear that even if my resolutions are passed,’ he informed her, ‘I shall not join the Working Committee. How far I cooperate with it in the future will depend upon circumstances.’35 He was clearly edgy about his own position within the party’s framework and unsure of his grip on the party organization.

  At Nasik, the prime minister came out all guns blazing. Addressing the Youth Congress, he invoked the Father of the Nation and reminded his audience about ‘the emphasis Gandhi had always laid on dignity of labour and not on fighting elections as was the case with Congressmen of today’.36 ‘It is disgusting to see many a so-called leader today merely talk and manoeuvre to get elected to some office or the other,’ he roared, ‘rather than do constructive work in the interests of the country.’37 It was a barely concealed reading of the riot act to Tandon and his supporters, whose victory Nehru attributed to the machinations of Patel, the arm-twisting of delegates and the manipulation and misuse of official machinery.38 Tandon, and the rest of the Congress party, received the message loud and clear. The prime minister needn’t have worried.

  Addressing the session, he assertively demanded that if party members continued to desire his leadership and place faith in his abilities, they would have to fall in line behind him and his policies. With particular reference to the communal situation in Bengal and his policy towards Pakistan, and what he believed to be almost an existential threat from organizations such as the RSS and the Hindu Mahasabha, there would be no room for dissent. ‘Hindu communalism’ was to be resolutely fought, and talk of ‘firm action’ against Pakistan was to be vehemently discouraged—and with this position no compromise was possible as long as Nehru was the prime minister. The radical socialists, Algurai Shastri and Shibban Lal Saksena, accused him of ‘coercing the Congress into accepting his standpoint’ and charged him with being unwilling to brook any criticism.39 But with the rapidly ailing Patel mostly confined to his sick bed—he made only one speech over the entire session—and the Congress ‘right wing’ shying away from a fight, little resistance was on offer. Nehru’s approach was eagerly and fervently endorsed by the assembled party members.40

  Following a nudge from Patel, even Tandon, who had been rumoured to have different views on the subject, hastily submitted and declared his allegiance to Nehruvian secularism while deprecating all talk of a ‘Hindu Government’.41 A similar situation unfolded when it came to the question of economic policy and land reform. The Subjects Committee promptly adopted Nehru’s economic plan centred on a controlled economy, and despite objections from certain q
uarters, the party emphatically endorsed the prime minister’s position on land reform and zamindari abolition.42 Tandon himself obligingly reiterated that the party had been committed to zamindari abolition since 1930, and continued to remain so.43

  The Nasik Congress turned out to be a remarkable and unabashed personal triumph for Nehru. Some had been expecting a split within the ranks of the party leadership, perhaps even the departure of a senior figure like Kripalani. Others had predicted a moment of truth over Pakistan and communal violence in Bengal.44 Still others had expected Tandon to ‘unfurl the flag of Hindu revivalism and declare a dharma-yuddha against secularism’.45 In the end, none of those eventualities materialized. Instead, Nehru’s resolutions were carried through by large majorities, demonstrating the capitulation of more conservative elements within the organization—derisively called the ‘Patel group’—and the preponderant influence of Nehru’s personality. ‘There is a tendency to please me within limits, and therefore the resolutions have gone through,’ he observed to Vijaya Lakshmi Pandit.46 It was unmistakable: the party now lay prostrate before him, the unchallengeable wielder of executive power.47

  As C. Rajagopalachari commented, ‘there could not have been a more thumping vote of confidence in the Prime Minister than what was by implication given at Nasik’.48 The prime minister who emerged from the Nasik session was vastly more powerful than the prime minister who had entered it. He had fended off challenges from the left, the right and even the remnants of the Gandhians. He had tamed a potentially rebellious Tandon; he had convinced his party colleagues to endorse his policies and ideological suppositions; and he had forced the party to fall in line behind him. Having secured the party’s backing, demonstrating his popularity, pushing his detractors on to the back foot and making his policies into Congress doctrine, Nehru was now very firmly in charge.