Partition, according to former imperial strategist, Olaf Caroe, was the "negation" of Indian power. It was actually much more than that. The 69th anniversary of India and Pakistan's acquisition of sovereignty from the colonial regime is an apt moment to reflect on how we look back at partition, and, assess the consequences of that event, which continues to profoundly shape our time.
Viewing partition
While the bloody history of India's division invites unanimous regret and condemnation, retrospective views are divided. Indian views of partition are diverse with intellectuals from the left and right engaged in what are often zero-sum reflections. One narrative from the left is partition is an accomplished fact, and, nostalgia over "what if" counter-factuals is futile. Perhaps a noble instinct for harmony overrides the search for more complex enquiries into our past. Curiously, there is a general reluctance to deconstruct and critique the two-nation theory that formed the basis for partition. Is this because critical histories are seen as somehow equivalent to a conflictual outlook on today's Pakistan or even questioning its existence? Whatever the deeper reasons are, most narratives are unwilling to challenge the over determined master discourse: that partition was simply inevitable.
The narratives from the right are also prone to contradictions. The typical view is partition was good because it relieved India from a large section of a Muslim population that would have interfered with socio-political stability and undermined post-colonial India's resurgence. Contemporary Islamic radicalism and extremism in South Asia is viewed as vindicating this argument, evading the fact that such radicalism is a logical manifestation of partition. Such a crude communal construction is sometimes accompanied with a parallel outlook that highlights the adversity of partition — the collapse of a basic subcontinental cultural unity that preceded British colonialisation. This latter belief sits rather uncomfortably with the crude mirroring of the two-nation theory that endorses the division of the subcontinent on the basis of majority communities.
What do we make of these competing narratives? It is ironic that both the left and right, either explicitly or implicitly endorse communal constructions to formulate their histories. For the left, nationhood is understood largely via a Eurocentric historical standpoint where homogeneity is the only basis of a national community. The idea of India as an exceptional case with a deeper historical ethos and culture transcending religion and cohering an otherwise diverse polity is beyond the analytical repertoire of most left commentaries. Indeed, partition is not viewed and analysed as a conscious top-down political act but a natural, if regrettable, outcome of a Hindu-Muslim cleavage (regardless of whether these contestations were encouraged and perpetuated quite grand strategically by the Raj in the decades preceding 1947). For example, it is rarely noted that in the 1946 elections, despite all the communal exhortations by the Muslim League, the League received only 32 percent of the vote share in Punjab and 37 percent in Bengal, electoral results that can hardly be called a decisive referendum in favour of separatism. Anyhow, the fact that post-partition India with more Muslims than in Pakistan and a large Hindu majority can sustain a secular national identity remains a puzzle for the left.
For the right, the construction of an ancient Indian past built on a shared cultural ethos — that is part imagined and part real and not necessarily contingent on a precise territorial identity — views partition as a dramatic shock to India's unity. But for the political right, such a view is actually a deep contradiction to its own advancement and electoral rise since 1947. The political right, insofar as its communal ideology is concerned, would simply not have the traction that it has acquired after 1947 but for partition. Plainly put, there is a basic hypocrisy and inner contradiction in this worldview where the political right's ascendance as an electoral force was buttressed by partition even as strands of its ideological discourse espouses a subcontinental unity purportedly transcending communal ideas.
Shadow of partition
It was a fairly popular view in India that once the partition generation in the subcontinent passed from the scene, past scars would heal and transform India-Pakistan relations. But demographic turnover and relatively cautious published histories have still not diminished the structural consequences of 1947. Partition casts a long shadow affecting both India and Pakistan.
The first aspect is the national identity crises that we witness on a recurring basis in Pakistan, and, perhaps more subtly in India. As Farzana Shaikh has eloquently described in her book Making Sense of Pakistan, identity conflicts lie at the very roots of Pakistan's existence. Shaikh's principal argument is that the role of Islam in Pakistani political life has never been adequately squared by its leadership, which has struggled to construct a nation based solely on religion. The contest and interplay between two rival discourses of Islam — the "communal" espoused by the ruling feudal-military elite sufficient to sustain the two nation-theory and the "Islamist" favoured by the religious establishment seeking to impose a doctrinaire version of Islam — according to Shaikh, account for the ideological incoherence in Pakistan. Despite being conceived "as a Muslim homeland built in the name of Islam", seven decades later Pakistan remains "a state still trapped in myths of its own making".