The Role of Refugees in the Rise of Ethno

Transcription

The Role of Refugees in the Rise
of Ethno-National Conflict:
The Case of the Sikhs
Candidate Name:
Shyamal Kataria
Institution:
Royal Holloway, University of London
Department:
Politics & International Relations
Thesis:
PhD Politics
The Role of Refugees in the Rise of Ethno-National Conflict: The Case of the Sikhs
2
Declaration of Authorship
I Shyamal Kataria hereby declare that this thesis and the work presented in it is entirely my
own. Where I have consulted the work of others, this is always clearly stated.
Signed:
……………………….
Date:
……………………….
3
Abstract
That refugees are all too often the unfortunate by-products of ethno-nationalism and ethnonational conflict is beyond reasonable doubt; however, based on observations of numerous
conflict zones around the world, this thesis suggests that the reverse could also hold true—
namely that refugee arrival contributes toward the rise of ethno-national conflict. This claim
is advanced upon the calculation that refugees bring with them two predetermined
outcomes into their host societies—first, a ‘victimhood-rich’ collective memory of their
exile; and second, a re-territorialization of their persecuted identity—which together,
subject to the condition of their associated variables, serve to be conducive toward the rise
of ethnic tensions, and eventually conflict, vis-à-vis out-groups.
In order to test the validity of this claim, a suitable case study will be employed—
namely that of the Sikhs, or to be specific, the Sikh refugees who were driven out of (tobe/newly created) West Pakistan during the partition of India in 1947 and their relation to
the rise of the armed secessionist struggle for Khalistan which spanned the period from
1981 to 1993 (with 1981 to 1990 corresponding with its ‘rise’ years).
4
If I could feel your pain,
And you could feel mine,
We’d never fight again—
5
Contents
Acknowledgements
10
Abbreviations
11
Glossary
13
List of Tables
17
List of Figures
18
List of Maps
19
Chapter 1: Introduction
20
Introduction
20
I. Ethno-National Conflict
21
Ethnic-Nation
Ethno-Nationalism
Formation and Persistence of Ethno-National Identity
Ethno-National Conflict
II. Refugees
47
Refugees
Refugees as a By-Product of Ethno-Nationalism/Ethno-National Conflict
Refugee Impact
III. The Argument of the Thesis
55
IV. Theoretical Framework
59
Predetermined Outcome 1 [Refugee Collective Memory]
Predetermined Outcome 2 [Re-Territorialization Process]
V. Case Study: The Sikhs
67
Partition of India
Sikh Refugees
Khalistan Movement
Case-Specific Research Questions
VI. The Organisation of the Study
91
Chapter 2: Khalistan Movement and Factors Associated with its Rise
93
Introduction
93
I. Identity Crisis
93
II. Centre-State Tensions
99
Over-Centralisation
6
Policies/Behaviour of the Congress (I)
Policies/Behaviour of the SAD
III. Economic Issues
110
Backwash Effects of the Green Revolution
Jurisdiction and Fiscal Policies of the Central Government
IV. Operation Blue Star
116
V. Anti-Sikh Pogroms
121
VI. State-Terrorism
125
VII. Role of the Media
128
VIII. Sikh Diaspora
131
IX. Foreign Hand
136
Conclusion
142
Chapter 3: Sikh History as an Ideological Basis for Khalistan
144
Introduction
144
I. Right to Nationhood
145
Formation of Khalsa
Sikh Empire
II. Khalistan as Preferable/Needed
154
Sikh Rule as Just
Hindu Threat
III. Attainability of Independence
165
Conclusion
172
Chapter 4: Methodology
174
Introduction
174
I. Defining the Context
174
Target Group
Timeframe
Geographical Scope
II. Data Collection and Analysis
175
Qualitative Data and Analysis
Quantitative Data and Analysis
Conclusion
192
Chapter 5: The Role of Sikh Refugees in the Rise of the Khalistan Movement
194
Introduction
194
I. Does a Sikh refugee ‘collective memory’ of partition exist?
195
Violent Departure
Consequences of Partition
Summary
7
II. Is there evidence to suggest that aspects of the Sikh refugee collective memory of
partition have diffused into the consciousness of their non-refugee ethnic kin and post-event
offspring?
218
How Diffusion Occurred
Why Diffusion Occurred
What Aspects Diffused
Summary
III. Has the shape and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory
been subject to change according to context?
236
Immediate Aftermath of Partition (1947-1950)
Push for Autonomy (1950-1966)
Post-Suba (1966-onwards)
Rise of the Khalistan Movement (1981-onwards)
Summary
IV. Is there evidence to suggest that this sub-group has re-territorialized its persecuted
identity, and, if so, have the forms of expression deployed changed with context?
261
Lower-Level Re-Territorialization
Wider-Level Re-Territorialization
Summary
V. Did areas of Punjab holding the highest rates of Sikh refugee population concentration
correspond with higher rates of Khalistani militancy?
276
Datasets
Spearman’s Rank Correlation Coefficient
Analysis
Summary
Conclusion
292
Chapter 6: Conclusion
294
Introduction
294
I. Verification of Hypotheses
294
II. Original Contribution
297
Discourse on Ethno-National Conflict
Discourse on Refugees
Discourse on Theoretical Concepts
Discourse on Partition
Discourse on Khalistan
III. Policy Recommendations
300
Generic Level
Case-Specific Level
IV. Scope for Further Enquiry
303
Depth
Breath
Appendices
304
Appendix I: Collective Memory
Appendix II: Biodata Form
Appendix III: Semi-Structured Interview Questions
8
304
308
309
Bibliography
312
Books/Book Articles
Journal Articles
Reports/Pamphlets
Newspapers/Magazines
Manuscripts/Oral History Files
Private Papers
Censuses
Speeches
Websites
312
330
339
340
341
343
343
343
344
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Acknowledgements
In chronological order, I would like to thank John Barker, whether he knows it or not, for
being the first person to express a belief in my academic ability; and Nicola Ansell, Alex
Warleigh-Lack and Matt Nelson for supplying academic references for both my Masters
and PhD applications. Huge thanks goes to Yasmin Khan who accepted my speculative
PhD proposal. My sincere thanks, also, to Sandra Halperin, who supplied massive help at
key junctures during the course of my PhD programme. I will remain forever grateful to
her. I would also like to thank, Pippa Virdee and Simona Vittorini for kindly agreeing to sit
on my viva panel. Other than this I want to thank all my interviewees; Amar Singh Bains,
Aridaman Singh Dhillon, Avtar Singh Kohli, Balbir Singh, Davinder Singh, Gurmit Singh
Aulakh, Mohinder Singh, Gulab Singh Kapur, Gurbaksh Singh, Gurcharan Singh,
Kanwarpal Singh, Kuldip Nayar, Kulveer Singh Cheema, Lakshman Singh Duggal,
Manmohan Singh Khalsa, Massa Singh, Paramjit Singh Ajrawat, Paramjit Singh Sarna,
Ranjit Singh Srai, Sadhu Singh, Sarabjit Singh Ghuman, Surinder Singh Grewal,
Tarlochan Singh and Tridivesh Singh Maini, the last of whom is also a great friend who
provided massive help during my fieldwork in India. I would also like to thank Rohit
Sharma and Bobby Sahota for their kind hospitality. My gratitude goes, also, to the
librarians Farzana Whitfield at SOAS and James Fishwick at Oxford, as well as those who
helped me at Khalsa College, the Jawaharlal Nehru Memorial Museum & Library, Indian
National Archives and the British Library. I would also like to thank, from the bottom of
my heart, the honourable Sudhir Ruparelia and Sanjay Sharma for all their support and
kindness.
Apart from those above, I want to express my thanks to my parents who are like
God to me. Finally, I would also like to pay reverence to the divine presence in this
universe who I try forever in vain to understand yet know gives me the strength to face
each and every day of my life. God bless.
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Abbreviations
AIML
All-India Muslim League
AISSF
All-India Sikh Students Federation
AKJ
Akhand Kirtani Jatha
BJP
Bharatiya Janata Party
BKD
Bahujan Kisan Dal
BSF
Border Security Force
BTFK
Bhindranwale Tiger Force of Khalistan
CIA
Central Intelligence Agency
CM
Chief Minister
CPC
Communist Party of China
CRPF
Central Reserve Police Force
DG
Director General
DGP
Director General of Police
DIG
Deputy Inspector General of Police
DSGMC
Delhi Sikh Gurdwara Management Committee
EU
European Union
FPRY
Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia
GOI
Government of India
GDP
Gross Domestic Product
HYVs
High Yielding Varieties
IA
Indian Army
ICS
Indian Civil Service
ICTY
International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia
IMF
International Monetary Fund
INA
Indian National Army
INC
Indian National Congress
INRs
Indian Rupees
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ISI
Inter-Services Intelligence
KCF
Khalistan Commando Force
MLA
Member of Legislative Assembly
MLNG
Muslim League National Guards
NATO
North Atlantic Treaty Organization
NDH
Nezavisna Država Hrvatska [Independent State of Croatia]
NSG
National Security Guard
NWFP
North West Frontier Province
OBC
Order of British Columbia
PEPSU
Patiala and East Punjab States Union
PLA
Punjab Legislative Assembly
PM
Prime Minister
PSGPC
Pakistan Sikh Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee
RAW
Research and Analysis Wing
RSS
Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh
SAARC
South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation
SAD
Shiromani Akali Dal
SAD (L)
Shiromani Akali Dal (Longowal)
SATP
South Asia Terrorism Portal
SGPC
Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee
UN
United Nations
UP
United Provinces/Uttar Pradesh
WMSF
World Muslim Sikh Federation
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Glossary
Akal Fauj
Immortal Army [Sikh paramilitary group during partition]
Akal Federation
Immortal Federation [Sikh cultural organisation]
Akal Takht
Seat of Temporal Authority
Akhand Bharat
United India
Akhand Kirtani Jatha
United ritual-chanting pilgrims [Sikh cultural organisation]
Amritdhari
Baptised Sikh
Ardas
Daily Sikh prayer
Arora
Mercantile sub-caste in Punjab
Arya(s)
Noble/Pure [Hindus of Vedic age]
Arya Samaj
Noble society [Hindu cultural/religious sect]
Arya Varta
Noble Land [historic entity that spanned across Indus]
Azadi
Freedom
Babbar Khalsa
Tigers of Purity [pro-Khalistan militant cell]
Baisakhi
Harvest festival
Bani/Gurbani
Word(s) of Guru
Bania
Hindu money-lending caste
Bhai
Brother
Bhapa
Slang word for those belonging to Khatri/Arora castes
Bharat Mata
Mother India
Biradari(s)
Brotherhood(s)
Brahmin
Pan-Hindu Priest caste
Brahminism
[Refers to Brahmin dominance of Hindu society]
Chamar
An ‘untouchable’ group outside of varna system
Chief Khalsa Diwan
Chief Pure Scripturalists [Sikh cultural organisation]
Chota
Small
Crore(s)
Ten million(s)
Dal Khalsa
Army of the Pure [pro-Khalistan militant/political cell]
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Dhadhi(s)
Folk singer(s)
Dharam Yudh Morcha
Righteous War March
Dharma/Dharam
Religion
Dilli Darbar
Delhi Throne
Doab
Tract of land between rivers
Ghallughara
Holocaust
Hindutva
Hinduness
Hukumnama
Religious decree
Hum Hindu Nahin
‘We are not Hindus’
Izzat
Honour
Jat(s)
Peasant caste in North-western India
Jatha(s)
Group of religious pilgrim(s)
Jathedar
Head of Sikh clergy
Jati(s)
Sub-caste(s) within varna
Jawan
Hero
Jenoi
Sacred string worn across upper torso
Kacch
Undergarment
Kafir(s)
Non-Muslim/Apostate
Kalma
Recitation during submission to Islam
Kam Roko
Work Blockade
Kangha
Wooden comb
Kara
Iron/steel bangle
Karsevak
Devotional service
Keshdhari(s)
Bearded/turbaned Sikh
Kalifa(s)
Caravan of migrants
Khalsa
Pure
Khalsa Panchayat(s)
Pure village council
Khatri
Warrior caste [Punjabi kshatriyas]
Khud-i-Khidmatgars
Red Shirts
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Kirpan(s)
Sword(s)
Koh-i-noor
Diamond
Kshatriya
Hindu Warrior caste
Laddoosi
Indian sweet
Lahori(s)
Resident(s) of Lahore
Laïcité
Separation of church and state
Lok Sabha
House of the People
Lieux de Mémoire
Sites of Memory
Mahant(s)
Priest(s)
Mandir(s)
Hindu temple(s)
Mazhabi
An ‘untouchable’ group outside of varna system
Miri-Piri
Temporal-spiritual
Misl(s)
Component unit(s) of Sikh confederacy
Morcha
March/Protest
Murdabad
Meaning ‘Death to’
Murti(s)
Idol(s)
Mussalman(s)
Muslim(s)
Nihang
The Eternal [revered sect of Sikhism]
Pahul
Baptism ritual
Pukka
Ripe/Genuine
Panj Payare
Five Beloveds
Panth
Path
Pathshala(s)
Traditional school(s)
Pir(s)
Sufi master(s)
Punjabiat
Punjabiness
Qaum(s )
Nation(s)
Rail Roko
Rail Blockade
Raj Karega Khalsa
Khalsa Shall Rule
Rajya Sabha
Council of States
15
Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh National Voluntary Union [Hindu cultural organisation]
Rasta Roko
Road Blockade
Rikshawala
Rickshaw driver
Rishi(s)
Sage(s)
Roko
Blockade
Sanatanist
Follower of the ‘Eternal’ faith [orthodox Hindu]
Sant
Saint
Sant Nirankari
Formless Saint [‘Heretic’ Sect of Sikhism]
Sarbat Khalsa
General Assembly of Sikhs
Sardar(s)
Leader(s)
Sarkar
Government
Sarva Dharma Sambhava
All religions are equal
Shaheedi
Martyr
Shariat
Islamic Law
Shuddhi
Purification
Shudra
Labourer caste [lowest ranked Hindu caste]
Singh Sabha
Society of the Singhs
Suba
Province
Tat Khalsa
True purity
Tehsil
Sub-district unit
Tikka/Tilak
Vertical saffron mark on forehead
Vadda
Large
Vaishya
Hindu Mercantile caste
Varna
Horizontal line of caste in Hindu society
Waheguru
God
Zamindar(s)
Feudal Lord(s)
Zindabad
Long Live
*Included above, are the ‘literal’ translations or, failing that, a ‘description’.
*In addition to its application to non-English words, italics are used in the main body of text through this thesis
to denote emphasis except where otherwise stated.
16
List of Tables
Table 1
Observed Cases
58
Table 2
Interview Data
183
Table 3
Primary/Secondary Interviews
184
Table 4
Refugee Interviews
185
Table 5
Non-Refugee Interviews
186
Table 6
Khalistani/Non-Khalistani Interviews
187
Table 7
Principle/Non-Principle Timeframe Interviews
188
Table 8
Inside/Outside Punjab Interviews
189
17
List of Figures
Figure 1
Diffusion Process
61
Figure 2
Theoretical Framework Model
66
Figure 3
Annual Fatalities in Terrorist Related Violence in Punjab
90
Figure 4
Spearman’s Rank Correlation Coefficient Formula
191
Figure 5
Testing of Hypotheses
296
18
List of Maps
Map 1
Post-Partition India (January 1948)
72
Map 2
Discontiguous Pakistan
73
Map 3
Administrative Boundaries of British Punjab, 1941
77
Map 4
Sikh Population of Punjab, 1941 (% of District Population)
78
Map 5
Sikh Population of Punjab, 1951 (% of District Population)
79
Map 6
Proposed Map of Khalistan (Speculative)
141
Map 7
Proposed Map of Khalistan (Less Speculative)
142
Map 8
Competing Territorial Claims over Punjab
211
Map 9
Administrative Boundaries of Punjab, 1981
277
Map 10
Administrative Boundaries of Punjab, 1991
278
Map 11
Born in Pakistan, 1981 (% of State-level Born in Pakistan Population) 279
Map 12
Born in Pakistan, 1991 (% of State-level Born in Pakistan Population) 280
Map 13
Police Officers Martyred in Punjab 1986-1990
281
Map 14
Hard-core Terrorists Killed in Punjab 1988-1990
282
Map 15
Police Officers Martyred in Punjab 1986-1993
283
Map 16
Hard-core Terrorists Killed in Punjab 1988-1993
284
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Chapter 1: Introduction
Introduction
Since the advent of the nation-state system in mid-seventeenth century Europe, and its
subsequent engulfment over the rest of the globe, there has been a marked increase in the
rate and scale to which certain populaces have been forcibly displaced from their
homelands. This is largely attributable to the ethno-nationalist fervour that dominant
groups vent upon minority populations they deem ‘undesirable’. Given that very few
societies are ethnically homogenous, the prospects for ethno-national conflict to emerge,
and, with that, refugee production, remain ever present. With this in mind, a study such as
this, that aims to explore the association between ethno-national conflict and refugees,
commands universal relevance.
The linkage between ethno-national conflict and refugees, though well established,
has been, until now, depicted almost exclusively in terms of the latter being a by-product of
the former. However, the idea, which may appear perverse to some at first glance, that this
thesis advances is that refugee arrival could actually contribute towards the rise of ethnonational conflict. This introductory chapter will lay the foundation beneath this claim and
outline the means through which it will be tested.
The chapter begins with a discussion of the two main elements running through the
thesis: ethno-national conflict and refugees. Section I defines ethnic-nation and ethnonationalism, discusses key theoretical perspectives on how ethno-national identity is formed
and why it persists, and critically engages with different explanations of ethno-national
conflict. Section II offers a description of refugees, identifies the different means through
which ethno-national forces bring about refugee creation, and critically reviews the
literature concerning the impact of refugees on their host societies.
The main argument of the thesis and the hypothesis to be investigated is presented
in Section III. A discussion of the theoretical framework employed in the thesis is in
Section IV. This discussion focuses upon the two predetermined outcomes that, the thesis
20
will argue, accompany refugee arrival as well as the variables that are associated with these
outcomes.
Section V discusses the main case study of this research: the Sikhs. The section
advances a case-specific hypothesis, provides a historical overview of the case, and
discusses specific questions that the research will address. Section VI deals with the
organisation of the thesis and offers a brief description of each of the remaining chapters.
I. Ethno-National Conflict
Ethnic-Nation
The term ethnic-nation refers to nations1 that are characterised principally by the common
ethnicity/ethnie2 of its constituent members, with the archetypal stance among adherents of
this form of nationhood being that, at least where their own groups are concerned, ‘ethnic
boundaries should not cut across political [ones]’.3 Ethnic-nations, which the German
Romanticist Johann Gottfried Herder regarded as the ‘only type of nation’ worthy of being
considered as such, are regularly viewed in opposition to the civic ones, with the latter
characterised by a voluntary commitment among its members to a common set of political
values and rights, advocated by, among others, Ernest Renan (1882). Furthermore, ethnicnations, unlike civic ones, need not be sovereign, in a jurisprudential sense, in order to be
considered a nation (Snyder 1993: 86).
This thesis defines a nation as ‘a named human population sharing an historic
territory, common myths and historical memories, a mass, public culture, a common economy
and common legal rights and duties for all members’ (Smith 1991: 14).
2
This thesis defines an ethnic group as ‘a named human population with myths of
common ancestry, shared historical memories and one or more common elements of culture,
including an association with a homeland, and some degree of solidarity, at least among the
elites’ (Smith 1999: 13).
3
Gellner 1983: 1. In practice however, and for reasons of pragmatism, most ethnonationalists are willing to compromise, albeit to varying degrees, with this principle.
1
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Ethno-Nationalism
Ethno-nationalism is a form of nationalism4 associated with those who either view
themselves as part of, or are depicted as belonging to, an ethnic-nation. The ideals
associated with this form of nationalism continue to have considerable resonance in
societies throughout the world. However, it appears that, in modern discourse at least, the
term ‘ethno-nationalism’ is rarely applied to the ‘nationalisms’ of existing nation-states: it
tends, rather, to be deployed in conjunction with forces operating above (expansionism) or
below (separatism) the nation-state. There appear to be two reasons for this. The first is that
political boundaries, even for those nation-states with so-called homogenous populations,
rarely, if ever, correspond exactly with ethnic ones. This is especially so in an age where
ethnic groups, despite the best efforts of nation-states, are increasingly vulnerable to
fluctuation by way of description, numerical strength and spatial distribution. The second
reason is that the ethno-nationalism existing in recognised nation-states is normalised by its
association with the ‘legitimate’ latter and therefore effectively becomes indistinguishable
from conventional forms of nationalism or, better still, patriotism (Billig 1995).
Formation and Persistence of Ethno-National Identity
In order for an ethnic-nation to exist, and/or for forms of ethno-nationalism to be
expressed, there would need to be an ethno-national identity for its constituent members to
rally around. It is therefore important to understand not only why such an identity is formed
but also why it persists through time and space. There are two principal, yet opposing,
schools of thought on this question—primordialism and instrumentalism.
The definition of nationalism this thesis employs is ‘an ideological movement for
attaining and maintaining identity, unity and autonomy of a social group, some of whose
members deem it to constitute an actual or potential nation’ (Smith 1999: 18).
4
22
Primordialism
Primordialism treats ethnic and ethno-national identities as irrational phenomena.5 Much
of the early primordialist discourse, particularly that which was generated by nationalists
themselves, lacked sophistication and, very often, a factual basis. However, recent decades
have seen the emergence of two scholarly perspectives that given far more credence to the
primordialist school. These perspectives consist of sociobiological primordialism and
cultural primordialism.
The foundational contribution to sociobiological primordialism is associated with
the work of Peter Van den Berghe (1978, 1988, 1995, and 2001). Van den Berghe, following
a neo-Darwinian line, describes ethnic groups as ‘population[s] bounded by the rule or
practice of endogamy’ (1988: 256). This, he argues, is driven by a shared belief in the
uniqueness of the group and thus a ‘primordial desire’ to maintain its ‘purity’.6 However, as
Walker Connor, a critic of the primordialist line, correctly pointed out, ‘the sense of unique
decent…need not, and in nearly all cases will not, accord with factual history’ (1994: 202).
Even for the most ethnically homogenous (at least perceptively) group, it would be near
impossible to conclusively demonstrate that its members share one or a set of
genetic/physical traits that are exclusive to them alone. However, Connor does concede
that, ‘it is not chronological or factual history that is the key to the nation, but sentient or
felt history’, meaning ‘all that is irreducibly required for the existence of a nation is that the
members share an intuitive conviction of the group’s separate origin and evolution’ (1994:
202). While it is difficult to disagree with Connor’s analysis here, he falls short of
explaining why such a belief develops in the first place. Though for rationalist scholars this
5
It should be noted that even the modernist scholar John Breuilly conceded that much
that is associated with our understanding of communal identity ‘is beyond rational analysis’
([1982] 1993: 401).
6
To demonstrate the degree to which this ‘purity’ is encouraged, we can quote a White
Afrikaner minister of religion in apartheid South Africa who, speaking on the topic of ‘coloured
people’, remarked: ‘Here we have a people who came into being through miscegenation with
the Whites. And as a mongrel race, they are, to us, the writing on the wall, a warning against
what can happen with intermixtures. They are Western in their code of living. They speak our
language, sing our songs, live in our country, but they are a people notorious for their moral
corruption. Lies are to them second nature. They are absolutely unreliable in any matter, have
little ambition and get their greatest pleasure from a bottle of wine and debauchery’ [emphasis
added] (The Star 1961).
23
belief would be attributed either to the results of elite manipulation and/or the self-interest
of the group members themselves (e.g. Brass 1979, 1991; Olson 1965); this still does not
account for why some individuals coalesce into a group and others not. Writing a year after
Connor, Van den Berghe affirms his stance on this issue by suggesting that a myth of
unique descent ‘will only be believed if members of an ethnic group are sufficiently alike in
physical appearance and culture, and have lived together and intermarried for a sufficient
period (at a minimum three or four generations) for the myth to have developed a
substantial measure of biological truth’ (1995: 360).7 Therefore one can surmise that the
practice of endogamy not only helps keep ethno-national identity intact, but that it forms
the very basis for the separate identity itself.
On a side note, the sociobiological explanation described above may raise the
question as to whether genealogical foundation, factual or otherwise, constitutes a
necessary prerequisite for ethnic-nationhood. The short answer is ‘no’ (as the definition of
ethnic-nation provided for above submits); however it is undeniable that genealogy is one
of the more objective indicators of ethnicity. This view is shared by Donald Horowitz, who
writes, ‘the more visible and the closer to birth, the more immutable and therefore reliable
the cue. A name can be changed, a language learned, and clothing altered, but…height [is]
more difficult to undo’ ([1985] 2000: 47). Consistent with this observation, this thesis
assumes that ethno-national groups which double-up as racial ones tend to have a far more
substantive basis than those that do not.
With regard to cultural primordialism, two contributions are particularly
noteworthy: those made by Clifford Geertz (1973) and Steven Grosby (1994).
Clifford Geertz maintains that humans have primordial attachments to what he
describes as the ‘givens’ of social existence, be it an immediate kin connection or a
particular religious and/or linguistic community. He explains that
7
Presumably, the degree of biological truth would depend upon the following variables;
first, the size of the group; and second, the number of generations endogamy has been practiced
without interruption. The smaller the size of the former and the more numerous the latter would
serve to bring about a more homogenous gene pool.
24
[t]hese congruities of blood, speech, custom, and so on…have an ineffable, and at
times overpowering, coerciveness in and of themselves. One is bound to one’s
kinsman, one’s neighbour, one’s fellow believer, ipso facto; as the result not merely
of personal affection, practical necessity, common interest, or incurred obligation,
but at least in great part by virtue of some unaccountable absolute import attributed
to the very tie itself. The general strength of such primordial bonds, and the types of
them that are important, differ from person to person, from society to society, and
from time to time. But for virtually every person, in every society, at almost all
times, some attachments seem to flow more from a sense of natural—some would
say spiritual—affinity than from social interaction (1973: 259-260).
In other words, he does not actually suggest that the ‘givens’ of social existence are
primordial but only that the attachments that people have to them are. These attachments,
in Geertz’s view, are deep-rooted and perhaps even inescapable to the individuals
constituting the ethnic-nation. Such an explanation would account for why so many people
have such ardent attitudes about ethnicity (whether positive or negative) and often engage
in seemingly inexplicable acts, including self-sacrifice, for the sake of these ‘givens’.
However, Geertz’s view exhibits a degree of weakness when we consider that many
people shift their language or convert to a different religion and thus effectively sever ties
with the ‘givens’ that may have defined their earlier life and were, allegedly, ineffable
(Smith 1997: 154). Furthermore, though Geertz’s argument helps to account for why
ethno-national identities persist, it is less useful in addressing the question of why they are
formed to begin with—thus leaving scope for others scholars, irrespective of school of
thought, to do so.
Steven Grosby’s work has received far less attention than that of Geertz’s. One
reason for this may be Grosby’s insistence that the ‘objects’ (or ‘givens’, as Geertz would
call them) to which members of an ethnicity attach themselves are primordial. ‘[E]thnic
groups and nationalities exist’, he argues, ‘because there are traditions of belief and action
towards primordial objects such as biological features and especially territorial location’
(Grosby 1994: 168).
25
While many scholars of a rationalist persuasion would instinctively dismiss this
view, upon closer inspection it would appear to have a substantive basis. This is because
the ‘primordial objects’ to which Grosby refers—biological features and territorial
location—cannot, in and of themselves, be instrumentally manufactured. This is not to say
that one cannot manipulate or exaggerate the extent of biological difference between
groups for political ends, or that the borders of the ‘imagined homeland’ (Anderson 1983)
are necessarily uniform in the minds of all ethno-nationalists—but only that both of these
objects exist as objective points of fact. The strength of these primordial objects help to
account for the appeal of Black Nationalism in the United States during the 1960s and
1970s (Collins 2004), and for why so many hitherto apolitical African-Americans rallied so
impressively behind the first prospective ‘Black’ President, Barack Obama, in 2008 and
again in 2012. It also helps to explain why, in the early twentieth century, the Zionist
Congress, in pursuit of a potential homeland for global Jewry, so vehemently rejected
Theodor Herzl’s infamous ‘Uganda project’—Uganda being a territory with which they
had no prior spiritual or cultural connection (Gur-Ze’ev 2003: 31).
Of course, conceding a large degree of primordiality to objects such as biological
features and territorial location does not imply that ethno-national identity forms, and
persists, primordially. After all, these objects constitute only two components, albeit quite
significant ones, out of an indeterminate number serving to make up ethno-national
identity at any given time. However, it should be noted that even seemingly constructed
components, such as language or dress, are typically imagined within the frameworks of
primordiality—be it the stereotypical racial profile of the person reciting their ethnic
language, or the ethnic dress worn by a person situated within the emblematic terrain of
their ethnic homeland.
26
Instrumentalism
Instrumentalism is often viewed in diametric opposition to primordialism, which it
dismisses as unscientific.8 Instrumentalism perceives ethno-national identities as strictly
rational phenomena. There are two instrumentalist perspectives of particular value to this
thesis: the elitist perspective and the social engineering perspective.
The seminal contribution to the elitist perspective comes from the work of Paul
Brass (1991, 1979). Brass’s work emphasises the role of elites in the formation and
persistence of ethno-national identity. He argues that
[e]lites and counter-elites within ethnic groups select aspects of the group’s culture,
attach new value and meaning to them, and use them as symbols to mobilize the
group, to defend its interests, and to compete with other groups (1979: 40-41).
In attributing the ethno-national identity of a group to the machinations and calculations of
its elite, Brass’s thesis helps to rationally account for why the masses, prisoners to the
symbols that distinguish them, often engage in what appear to be, to the impartial observer
at least, self-defeatist communal pursuits. Since, in such cases, it is elite interests that are
being satisfied and/or remain protected.
Despite its explanatory strengths, there are limits to how far this argument allows
us to stretch the instrumentalist line. As Brass himself concedes, ethnic-nations and ethnonational identities are created through ‘the selection of particular dialects or religious
practices or styles of dress or historical symbols from a variety of available alternatives’
(1991: 25). This suggests, first, that these identities cannot be created out of nothing: they
need there to be a pre-existing artefact to build on or revive. This does not necessarily mean
that such artefact needs to be primordial in nature:9 only that, elites, at any given time, do
8
It should be noted that simply because an explanation is considered unscientific, or, to
be specific, is beyond conventional logical reasoning, does not purport that it is false. This is
because whatever constitutes logical reasoning, at any given time or place, is by no means
beyond challenge itself and it could well be that our reasoning at present is simply too
unsophisticated to understand the ‘science’ behind these primordialist explanations.
9
Indeed, Craig Calhoun believes that no artefact or tradition, regardless of how ancient,
can be considered ‘truly primordial’, since they all had to be ‘created’ at some point (1997: 34).
27
not enjoy free reign to formulate a group’s ethno-national identity. Second, from the variety
of available alternatives, some, as symbols, will inevitably strike a deeper cord with the
masses than others. This is usually because such symbols, many of which possessing an
esoteric value that even most elites remain unaware of, have held a deep and historic
significance for the group in its past10 and so constitute an important component of its
ethno-national identity.
As opposed to the ad hoc top-down approach associated with the elitist perspective,
the social engineering explanation suggests that a far more systematic and official set of
processes are at play during the formation, and persistence, of ethno-national identity. The
important contributions by Eric Hobsbawm (1983) and Ernest Gellner (1983) warrant our
attention in this regard.
In advancing the notion of ‘invented traditions’, Hobsbawm proposed that societal
traditions that might appear, and which many ethno-nationalists assume to be, ancient
and/or primordial are in actual fact far more recent and deliberate in origin (1983: 1). By
‘invented traditions’, he means
a set of practices, normally governed by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a
ritual or symbolic nature, which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of
behaviour by repetition, which automatically implies continuity with the past. In
fact, where possible, they normally attempt to establish continuity with a suitable
historic past (1983: 1).
In other words, the allure of assumed historical significance, and implied continuity,
associated with these ‘traditions’ are what give its architects, and the institutions they
represent, legitimacy vis-à-vis the masses.
While Hobsbawm’s contribution helps to explain, to some extent, why ethnonational identities are formed and persist, it fails to address the fundamental question of
10
To use an analogy, only a cord that is tied to a guitar in the first place will create a
note when it is strung; so the guitarists/elites are only ever partially responsible for the
sound/ethno-national identity that this act generates.
28
why people so often need to look backward, or for set precedence, in order to legitimise the
present or indeed the future.
For Ernest Gellner, whose work might easily be characterised as ‘modernist’, the
formation of the nation (not distinguishing between a civic or ethnic type) and the
associated identities that derive from it are attributed to the institutions of the state and, in
particular, those related to education. As he puts it:
At the base of the modern social order stands not the executioner but the professor.
Not the guillotine, but the (aptly named) doctorate d’etat is the main tool and symbol
of state power. The monopoly of legitimate education is now more important, more
central than the monopoly of legitimate violence (Gellner 1983: 34).
Using a botanical analogy, Gellner suggests that, whereas the cultures that predated the
nation-state were like flora of a wild variety, national cultures needed to be specifically
‘cultivated’. National cultures, he notes, ‘possess a complexity and richness, most usually
sustained by literacy and by specialized personnel’, yet remain fragile, since they ‘would
perish if deprived of their distinctive nourishment in the form of specialized institutions of
learning with reasonably numerous, full-time and dedicated personnel’ (1983: 50).
Though Gellner’s work holds great significance, especially for explaining the
development of national identity in post-colonial societies that have consciously embarked
upon nation-building exercises, it falls short of explaining the formation/persistence of
ethno-national identities. This is because, as mentioned previously, ethnic-nations and
ethno-national forces, have existed, and continue to exist, beyond the nation-state level. This
is not to say that state institutions do not interact or influence the ethno-nationalism forces
that exist above, or below, them: only that it can seldom ‘create’ these forces. As far as the
persistence of ethno-nationalism is concerned, arguably state institutions usually perform
this function inadvertently by inviting an ethnic backlash from groups within it resisting its
homogenising tendencies.
29
Summary
Both primordialist (including sociobiological and cultural) and instrumentalist (including
elitist and social engineering) explanations have been advanced to account for the
formation and continued persistence of ethno-national identities. However, despite their
respective strengths, neither school can, through strict adherence to their purist lines, fully
account for this phenomenon. It is sensible to assume, therefore, that ethno-national
identities are a product of both primordial and instrumental factors.
By meandering across the primordialist/instrumentalist divide, it is possible to
extract the set of ‘truths’, listed below, as a guide to understanding ethno-national identity
going forward.
Seven Truths of Ethno-National Identity:

Endogamy not only keeps ethno-national identity intact, but forms the very basis of
the separate identity claim itself.

Ethnic groups which double-up as racial ones tend to have far more substantive
basis than those that do not.

People tend to have primordial attachments to the givens/objects associated with
their ethno-national identity.

Certain objects/givens associated with ethno-national identity are themselves
primordial (or at least have a large primordial element to them).

Elites often draw upon elements of a group’s culture from an available set of
alternatives/options to use as symbols with which to construct and/or mobilise the
ethno-national identity of their group.

Societies often deliberately invent traditions to inculcate the ethno-national loyalty
in the group they seek to secure.

State institutions perform functions which can, both advertently and inadvertently,
manufacture/maintain the ethno-national identities of the group(s) that fall within
its sovereign authority.
30
Ethno-National Conflict
Ethnic conflict can be understood as tensions that erupt between opposing groups which
are perceived by at least one of groups in question, or a significant proportion of individuals
within it, as having an ethnic basis (Wolff [2006] 2010: 2). What distinguishes an ethnic
conflict from an ethno-national one, is the ethno-nationalism of the groups involved—a
force which, by definition, is geared around achieving/protecting specific territorial ends, be
it through separatism, expansionism or by simply ethno-nationalising the existing nationstate. Indeed it is ethno-nationalism’s intrinsic association with territory that makes conflict
likely, because territory and space, regardless of scale, is a finite resource.11 The expansion
of a group’s territory will lead to the contraction of another’s; the birth of a nation will
potentially lead to the death of another, thus generating fierce competition between the
groups involved. It should be noted that conflict in this regard need not be violent in
nature, though it often will be. In the wider literature on ethno-national conflict,12 incidents
of violence are commonly used as a marker by which to measure conflict (Laitin 2007), and
this is a standard which this thesis will not seek to depart from. Yet, as many sophisticated
works among them rightly acknowledge, violence is only ever part of a wider conflict
(Coser 1956: 82, Brubaker and Laitin 1998: 426).
That a demonstrable link exists between ethno-nationalism and conflict is
undoubtedly true. However, where the real debate lies, one to which this thesis aims to
make a contribution, concerns why ethno-nationalism rises in the first place. A range of
contributory or, less subtly, causal factors have been advanced in attempts to explain this
process. The vast majority of them can be categorised as structural, political, economic and
cultural factors.
11
This excludes cases of land reclamation from the sea, land formed through tectonic
shifts etc.
12
The alleged practical purpose behind such discourse is so that, by understanding the
factors contributing towards such conflict, ‘we may be able to suggest ways to stop escalation
and find solutions by peaceful political means’ (Harff and Gurr 2002: 2).
31
Structural Factors in the Rise of Ethno-Nationalism
Structural factors consist, first, of those created by state breakup/formation. While ethnonationalism very often contributes to the breakup and/or formation of states, it is also the
case that the latter stimulates the rise of the former (Billig 1995: 27, Brown 1997: 14, Smith
1997: 73). The ethno-nationalist urges of the dominant majority within the successor
and/or newly formed state can be expected to be at its zenith during such periods and will
motivate such people to engage in acts to bring about an ideal ethnic-nation. Such acts
could include persecution and/or ‘ethnic-cleansing’ of minorities that these groups perceive
to be obstacles or threats to achieving this goal. One example among many is the conduct
of nationalist Turks between 1918 and 1922 towards minorities—particularly Greeks—in
Anatolia (Lieberman 2003). However, in cases where a successor/newly-formed state does
not have an obvious majority, conflict can be potentially greater in scale since more than one
ethno-national group would be vying for power. According to Geertz,
it is the very process of the formation of a sovereign, civil state that, among other
things, stimulates sentiments of parochialism, communalism, racialism and so on,
because it introduces into society a valuable new prize over which to fight and a frightening
new force with which to contend [emphasis added] (Geertz 1973: 270).
Furthermore, it is also the case that the breakup/formation of nation-states can
trigger a ‘contagion effect’ across adjacent regions/states (Lake and Rothchild 1998). It
does this, not only by providing a ‘shot in the arm’ to hitherto dormant ethno-nationalist
struggles, but also, in cases where the seceding territory was of considerable symbolic
and/or economic worth, the remaining constituent units of the nation-state may no longer
deem it worth identifying with. An example of this was the attitude of Macedonia in early
1991 to Yugoslavia after it became clear that Croatia, Slovenia, and possibly Bosnia, would
secede. In such cases, conflict ensues between the forces trying to leave the state and those
wanting the state to remain united.
32
A second structural factor consists of the administrative structure of the state, i.e.
whether it is unitary, federal or confederal in composition. It has been argued that a unitary
state, especially in a nation harbouring deep ethnic cleavages, can exacerbate ethnonational tensions (Oberling 1991, Manikkalingam 2000, Denktash 2006, Schrijver 2011:
266-267). Since this removes from the equation the possibility that ethno-national groups,
which are demographically concentrated in a particular part of the country but a minority
at national level, might at least enjoy some manner of regional autonomy and, to an extent,
retain safeguards from the potentially adverse policies of out-group parties controlling the
centre. An example of this was the implementation of the One-Unit scheme in West
Pakistan, in 1955, which amalgamated its hitherto separate provinces of North West
Frontier Province (NWFP now ‘Khyber Pakthunkhwa’), Punjab and Sindh, as well as the
Baluchistan States Union, into a singular entity (Rashiduzzamam 1989, Weiss and Gilani
2001: 8, Khan 2002: 221).13 The scheme contributed towards, what the minority groups
and their leaders considered to be, the steady dominance of West Pakistan by its majority
ethnic group—the Punjabis (Samad 1995, 1996; Talbot 2002: 51);14 and thereby stimulated,
albeit to varying degrees, the regionalist, and even separatist, sentiments among the Pathan,
Sindhi and Baluchi populations respectively (Sayeed 1989: 34, Rahman 1989, Hewitt 1996,
Malik 1996). Needless to say these expressions of ethno-nationalism brought forth the
wrath of the Pakistani state, in particular by its Punjabi-dominated military, on to these
particular groups.
However, the reverse argument is also plausible: namely that, in a heterogeneous
society a federal, or especially confederal, structure, though seemingly offering its
constituent units the autonomy they apparently crave, considerably weakens the centripetal
forces serving to bind the nation together, thus increasing the scope for ethno-nationalism
‘from below’ to emerge (Brown 1997: 6). An illustrative case is Yugoslavia and the
13
It is generally considered that this policy was initiated in an attempt by officials with
a ‘superiority complex’ in the western wing, to offset the potential strength of its eastern,
Bengali, wing.
14
Such anxiety was hardly aided by the decision in 1960 to relocate the national capital
from Karachi to Islamabad, in Punjab.
33
substantial decentralisation of the state caused by the passing of its 1974 constitution. This
constitution was passed in response to Yugoslavia’s financial turmoil triggered by the 1973
Oil Crisis. Since its economic crisis was deemed to have occurred largely as a result of the
failings of the centre,15 the 1974 constitution gave considerably more autonomy to the
republics than they had enjoyed previously (Hayden 1992: 1379). While the new
constitution undoubtedly limited the ability of the centre to repeat such financial blunders,
it also led to institutional weakness and legislative paralysis when trying to develop a
cohesive and co-ordinated strategy for generating an economic revival. Moreover, though
Josip Broz Tito had maintained his commitment to the suppression of ethnic nationalism,
it arguably became increasingly profitable, electorally, for parties at the republic level to
engage and mobilise their constituents through principally ethnic means. This was chiefly
because, 1) the proportionate number, and importance, of federal posts were reduced;16 and
2) the ethnic majority of each republic was absolute in all cases except Bosnia-Hercegovina
(Hayden 1996: 787). By the late 1980s, a combination of these factors had contributed
towards the ethno-national secessionist desires of the Slovenes and Croat republics
respectively, a move resisted by the numerically dominant Serbs who, largely owing to the
nature of their spatial distribution across the country,17 sought to preserve Yugoslavia’s
territorial integrity. These divergent ethno-nationalist goals eventually culminated in the
eruption of the Yugoslav Wars (1991-1995) which coincided with, in addition to the
‘ethnic-cleansing’ of localised minorities, the breakup of the state.
A third structural factor in the rise of ethno-nationalism concerns the ‘capacity’ of
the state. It has been suggested that a state lacking in institutional mechanisms to perform
its normative function of enforcing/protecting societal order—be it through taxation, the
national media, civil service, legislature, judiciary, armed forces—is less capable of
managing/containing episodes of ethnic dissent so as to prevent them from breaking out
15
This included focusing on becoming an almost exclusively export-driven economy,
thereby leaving it extremely vulnerable to the fluctuations of foreign markets.
16
Such posts tended to be filled by those who were in favour of, or at least not openly
averse to, the Yugoslav project.
17
A significant proportion of Serbs were living as minorities in the republics across
Yugoslavia outside Serbia.
34
into open conflict (Kukreja 1991: 43-45, Rear 2008: 117). For instance, Babar Sattar has
suggested that one of the reasons why the Pakistani state has, almost since its inception,
been so perpetually plagued by ethno-national conflict, is that its military (though
admittedly an institution of the state), through successive military coups, has actually
‘prevented the evolution of institutional norms and conventions, thus keeping vital state
institutions weak’ [emphasis added] (2001: 386), thereby inhibiting the latter’s ability to
manage conflict situations through ‘soft’ means.
While the general argument seems, for the most part, to be valid, there are ample
examples of states with huge institutional capacity, such as Pakistan’s great neighbour
India, not only failing to prevent, but also arguably helping to create, the rise of ethnonational conflict e.g. in Punjab and Kashmir (Kohli 1998). Therefore, without wanting to
discredit the value of this factor, rather than focus simply upon the depth and breadth of
state capacity in determining conflict potential, it is also important to consider the quality of
its delivery.
A fourth structural factor is the demographics of a given ethno-national group
(both in terms of its relative numerical strength and its geographical spread). The typical
position is to assume that numerically larger and geographically compact groups tend to be
more prone to ethno-nationalist assertion/conflict (Brown 1997: 7). The argument is that;
1) larger groups are theoretically able to draw upon a larger pool of resources for ethnonational mobilisation relative to rival out-groups, thereby reducing the fear of repercussions
associated with engagement in ethno-national conflict; and 2) a geographically
concentrated population not only contributes towards the development of a ‘ghettoized
mentality’,18 which, almost by definition, is intolerant of external influence, but also that
the territory in which it pre-dominates serves as a ready-made, feasible, end (i.e. national
homeland) around which a secessionist struggle can be focused. There are a number
examples of this, including the secessionist struggle of Crimea from Ukraine in 2014 (and
It is suggested that ‘minority groups are most intolerant when they live in an enclave
as a local numerical majority’ (Massey et al. 1999: 689).
18
35
its subsequent merger into the Russian Federation), which was instigated, in large part, by
the majority ethnic Russian population of the peninsula.
Nevertheless, the reverse argument can also be advanced that the existence of a
numerically slight ethno-national populace which is thinly dispersed geographically can
also be conducive to the rise of ethno-nationalism/ethno-national conflict. In terms of a
reduced population, this could actually heighten the group’s sense of vulnerability, thereby
encouraging moves to maintain visibility and the sharpness of its group boundaries through
an increased propensity for exaggerated expressions of ethno-national identity, be it street
protests or acts of violence. This is especially the case where a given group considers itself
to be marginalised politically. With regard to a thinly spread population, while it has been
argued by Gordon Allport (1954) that increased contact between groups helps to build
mutual trust and foster tolerance, it is also the case that living among ‘the other’ can, if the
‘nature of contact’ is negative, become the source of ethnic hatreds. Although such
circumstances may not necessarily lead to the development of a fully-fledged ethnonationalist movement, it is by no means impossible assuming that one or more of the
groups in question are willing to engage in a transfer of population/ethnic cleansing i.e. the
conduct of the Muslim minority in northern India with respect to their support for the
Pakistan movement in the 1940s.
Therefore while it may be more likely for numerically larger/geographically
compact ethno-national groups to resort to conflict than groups that are numerically
smaller and geographically dispersed, the potential devastation caused by the conflict in the
latter scenario would be far higher, since nearly all constituents of the ethnic-nation serve as
front-line targets and combatants (Kauffman 1997: 266). Indeed, during the Yugoslav Wars
(1991-1995), the worst of the violence occurred in parts of the country that were also the
most ‘mixed’ (Gagnon 1994/5: 134, Ron 2000). This is in stark contrast to the ‘velvet
divorce’ of Czechoslovakia in 1992, a country in which the vast majority of Czechs and
Slovaks had lived in their respective units (Pithart and Spencer 1998).
36
A fifth structural factor in the rise of ethno-nationalism is whether, to borrow a set
of terms from Horowitz ([1985] 2000: 32), ethno-national groups exist within a ‘ranked’ or
‘unranked’ system. Though, constitutionally speaking, it is less common for states across
the world to be ‘officially’ tiered along ethnic lines, as had been the case in apartheid South
Africa, it is evident that many remain so in practice. However, in an age when the
European doctrines of liberalism and equality appear to be globally pervasive, the lowly
ranked within many developing societies have sought to raise their position. This goal can
be pursued through a number of avenues; 1) ‘subordinate groups can attempt to displace
superordinate groups’; 2) ‘they can aim at abolition of ethnic divisions altogether’; 3) ‘they
can attempt to raise their position in the ethnic hierarchy without denying the legitimacy of
that hierarchy’; and 4) ‘they can move the system from ranked to unranked’ ([1985]2000:
34). All these avenues will likely invite resistance from those highly-ranked elements averse
to such changes.
To illustrate, we can consider the tensions that exist within the caste system in
Hindu society,19 though this is more directly relevant to explaining ethnic conflict rather
than ethno-national conflict. In this case, the shudras and ‘outcastes’ have sought,
particularly since the independence of India, to pursue mobility, with ‘Option 1’
(mentioned above) not being realistic, through ‘Option 3’ by a process that has been
referred to as ‘sanskritization’ (Srinivas 1952). The typical means through which such an
outcome could be attained would be to migrate to an unfamiliar village or town and adopt
a high-caste pseudonym in an attempt to dupe one’s new neighbours. If this new identity
proved unconvincing, it would probably be more likely to invite profound embarrassment
rather than conflict. However since the independence of India, and in particular due to the
support of leaders such as Mohandas Gandhi and B. R. Ambedkar, many low-castes have
sought to pursue ‘Option 3’ by pushing for quotas with respect to college/university and
19
The Hindu caste system in India can be traced back to the Vedic age, and at its
simplest is structured across four varnas or hierarchies made up of, in descending order, the
Brahmins, Kshatriyas, Vaishyas and Shudras. Within each varna there are numerous jatis, or
sub-castes/clans, which continue to persist inter-generationally through the practice of
endogamy. However a huge proportion of the contemporary ‘Hindu’ population of India does
not actually fall within the four varna system: such people are collectively referred to as Dalits.
37
civil service positions (Bhambri 2008). Such drives to obtain and protect reservations have
inevitably sparked conflict between the castes, although not always violent (Sheth 2002:
95). In more recent years, the younger generation among castes of all descriptions,
especially those with less reverence for orthodox Hindu principles,20 have sought to pursue
‘Option 2’, by encouraging intermarriage between, and therefore eventual destruction of,
castes (Chowdhry 2007: 140). While such practices have grown increasingly common in
the metropolises of India, it is less so in rural parts of the country where the overwhelming
majority of the Indian population continues to reside.21
Although it is possible to see potential for conflict emerging in ranked systems, it is
too simplistic to conclude that an unranked one guarantees tranquillity. After all, in a
heterogeneous society where groups occupy a level playing field, the prospect of out
joisting ones rivals and thereby attaining pre-eminent status is, for all, equally proximate
and realisable. Equality therefore has the potential to create a Hobbesian ‘state of nature’
among ethno-national groups vying for power (Hobbes 1651).
Political Factors in the Rise of Ethno-Nationalism
The first of these political factors involves the role of the ethno-national elites. Paul Brass,
whose arguments have already been noted above, maintains, ‘ethnic self-consciousness,
ethnically-based demands, and ethnic conflict can occur only if there is some conflict either
between indigenous and external elites and authorities or between indigenous elites’ (1991:
26). In other words, elites and competition between them serves as the root of such conflict.
Elites, in this view, instrumentally construct or reinforce group boundaries through the
manipulation of symbols and this culminates not only in the rise of ethno-national
inclinations among their masses but, as a consequence, ‘reactionary’ ethno-nationalism
from out-groups threatened by the former. Brass (1979, 1991) assumes that the elites engage
Providing support for this point, Lewis Coser observes that, ‘in the classical Indian
caste system, inter-caste conflict was rare because lower and higher castes alike accepted the
caste distinctions’ (1956: 37).
21
Particularly in cases where a young woman of a high-caste background ‘falls in love’
with a lower-caste man, ‘honour-killing’ conducted by family members and/or village elders
remains quite prevalent (Chowdhry 2007: 142).
20
38
in such policies for what they perceive to be in the best interests of the group as a whole.
Others, such as Richard Sklar (1967: 6) and Ben Fowkes (2002: 173), have a more cynical
assessment of elite motivations. They suggest that elites are guided by sheer self-interest
and opportunism, and effectively exploit their masses solely for these purposes. The truth,
as might be expected, is probably somewhere in the middle. Either way, it is undoubtedly
the case that the overwhelming proportion of ethno-national conflicts around the world can
be attributed, in some measure, to elite manipulation or machinations.
But the actions of elites, whether self-interested or otherwise cannot, alone, explain
the rise of ethno-national conflict. Just as elites cannot create ethno-national identities in
the absence of pre-existing artefacts, they are also not capable of igniting ethno-nationalist
passions among their constituents without tapping into at least some genuine pre-existing
grievances (irrespective of whether the latter were previously conscious of those).22
A second political factor involves the advent, or movement towards the
establishment, of democracy. This argument holds that the democratisation of postcolonial states, or former authoritarian regimes, actually stimulates ethno-national
sentiments of its component groups, thereby eventually bringing about conflict
(Samarasinghe 1990: 1, Ignatieff 1993: 2, Tehranian 1993: 193, Fane 1996). In this view,
the conventional trappings of democracy—be it freedom of press and of expression, a
multi-party system and frequent and fair elections—provide scope for; 1) the open venting
of ethnic grievances that had previously been repressed; and 2) the mobilisation of groups
along ethnic lines (hence minimising the strength of cross-ethnic cleavages that had existed
in the pre-democratic era). There are of course numerous examples of ethno-national
conflicts in societies undergoing processes of democratisation.23
While yielding in large measure to the strength of this line of argument, it should
not be assumed that democracy does nothing to tame ethno-national tensions. It could, in
22
Such grievances can often be viewed as explanatory factors in and of themselves.
However one should not conclude from this that democratisation should be
discouraged in societies with heterogeneous populations, since the timeframe that we are
focusing upon is arguably too narrow to arrive at a conclusive judgement. In other words, the
conflicts witnessed can conceivably be understood as the natural residual effect of many years
spent under repressed governance and by no means the precedent for the democratising state.
23
39
fact, be argued that democracy provides groups with institutional channels for expressing
the variety of grievances that would, in their absence, be expressed through violent means
(Nevers 1993: 61, Coser 1956: 48). Therefore, rather than subscribe to the view that
democratisation inevitably leads to ethno-national conflict, a number of variables need to
be considered. These include; 1) the depth and pace of transition from non-democratic to
democratic governance; 2) the type of democracy being sought. For instance, the introduction
of classical pluralistic democracy in a nation with deep ethnic cleavages might easily invite
resentment from minority groups isolated from power,24 such as that felt by the Catholic
population of Northern Ireland between 1920 and 1972. In these cases a ‘consociational
model’ may be preferable (Lijphart 1977, 1999);25 3) the relative position of ethnic groups, pre
and post democracy. For example, if the minorities were on par, or perhaps even in an
advantageous position, under the pre-democratic regime, such as the Sunni population in
Iraq under Saddam Hussein, then they are likely to harbour more resentment, and thus
propensity towards engagement in conflict, than if ‘democracy’ had uplifted their relative
status.
A third factor is the constitutional/political rights provided for by the state. The
conventional assumption is that states which fail to enshrine the rights of their citizenry
would be more susceptible to ethno-national conflict. While the claim is undoubtedly a
valid one, it nonetheless is a weaker explanatory factor than others available to us. After
all, despite the Soviet Union passing an extremely liberal (at least ostensibly) constitution in
October 1977—which ‘guaranteed’ its people freedoms of speech, press, assembly and
religious belief (Unger 1981)—this did not detract from it being arguably one of the world’s
most oppressive regimes during the twentieth century.
24
Arguably the conflict potential is reduced to some extent in societies with a large
cross-ethnic middle class for they are ‘able to reward moderate and democratic parties and
penalize extremist groups’ (Lipset 1959: 78).
25
However, a consociational or consensus model of democracy may not necessarily
avert conflict. Since, apart from the majority ethno-national group feeling deprived of their
‘right’ to rule outright, the manner of consensus politics arguably leads to a lack of legislative
direction (Andeweg and Irwin 1999: 99). Moreover, it could be contended that a consociational
model actually results in the ‘institutionalisation of difference’. According to Giovanni Sartori,
‘if you reward divisions and divisiveness…you increase and eventually heighten divisions and
divisiveness’ (1997: 72).
40
Therefore, rather than the constitution, whether codified or not, being itself of
importance, its value and impact is determined by how it is implemented. Furthermore, it
can be argued that the very act of enshrining rights at all can potentially ‘open a can of
worms’ by sparking controversies over the wording of its articles and why certain rights are
codified and others not—all of which can contribute, in relevant circumstances, to the rise
of ethno-national tensions.
The fourth political factor relates to the surrounding geo-political environment
(Hallik 1996, Horowitz [1985] 2000: 230). There appears to be considerable credence that,
while ethno-nationalist goals will always exist (be it for secessionism, ethno-nationalising
the existing nation-state, or expansionism), it is only when geo-political conditions support
such movements that they are able to achieve the critical mass required to prompt open
conflict. For example, in the case of secessionism, this could involve a situation in which
an ethno-national group wishing to secede obtains support from a regional power26 e.g.
open German diplomatic support for Slovenia in its attempt to break away from
Yugoslavia (Chossudovsky 1996: 521, Cox 2002: 140, Binder 2009: 40). With respect to
ethno-nationalising an existing nation-state, the systematic slaughter of the Serb population
carried out by the Croat fascist ‘Ustaše’ state of Nezavisna Država Hrvatska (NDH)27
proceeded unhindered due to the security offered by the Nazi-German umbrella. The case
of expansionism can be illustrated with reference to China’s capture of Tibet in 1951,
which followed shortly after the British, a considerable global power at the time, had
departed the Indian subcontinent, and left a ‘power vacuum’ that the PRC (People’s
Republic of China) was able to take advantage of.
Power, in this respect, can be determined along ‘soft’ (i.e. economic, diplomatic) or
‘hard’ (i.e. military) lines (Nye 2004).
27
In the words of one Ustaše official at the time: ‘This country can only be a Croatian
country, and there is no method that we would hesitate to use in order to make it truly Croatian
and cleanse it of Serbs, who have for centuries endangered us and who will endanger us again if
they are given the opportunity’ (quoted in Djilas 1991: 119).
26
41
Economic Factors in the Rise of Ethno-Nationalism
The first of these factors is the ‘modernisation effect’ that accompanies the shift from an
agrarian to an industrial or service-driven economy. Few would dispute that urbanisation is
necessary in order for this transition to occur. However, urbanisation, it has been argued,
has the potential to create, or exacerbate pre-existing, ethno-national tensions (Gellner
1964, Lijphart 1977a: 56, Horowitz [1985] 2000: 96-97). The argument is that; 1) new
arrivals into urban areas may disrupt the ethnic balance, conceivably leading to a sense
among the natives that they are being ‘flooded’ in their own homeland. An example being
the response by the indigenous Bodos in the town of Kokrajhar, in Assam, India, to
Muslim Bangladeshi immigrants, which contributed towards rioting in 2012 (BBC News
2012). It should be noted however, that there is always the possibility that the arrival of
outsiders might work to diffuse, or neutralise, pre-existing tensions as. For instance, in
Belfast, Northern Ireland, the arrival of immigrants from various parts of the world has
helped diffuse tensions between Catholics and Protestants to some extent by giving them a
sense of just how similar they were relative to the newcomers; 2) while immigrants from
different regions of the country often bring with them their own languages/dialects, the
state, or dominant urban elements, may deem it desirable to institute a common lingua
franca. This may be seen as supplanting ‘mother tongues’ and thus lead to resistance and
conflict. An example is that of the native Sindhi population of Karachi, Pakistan.
Following the arrival of the Muhajirs from the Hindu majority provinces of northern India
during the partition of 1947, Sindhis felt under threat from—the language of the Muhajirs
and what was declared to be the national language of Pakistan—Urdu, with tensions
culminating in the riots of February 1972 (Wright 1991: 304, Haq 1995: 993, Rahman
1995: 1009). However, if an ethno-national group’s language is officially designated as the
national one and is therefore used by people with no prior connection to it, this may
actually undermine its value in defining the distinct identity of the former with whom it was
originally associated; 3) increased group-to-group contact under the impact of
modernisation has the potential to add an ‘ethnic colour’ to what would otherwise be mere
42
socio-economic rivalries. This is especially so if there is an ‘ethnic division of labour’
(Bonacich 1972: 553, Weiner 1978: 7). However, while economic rivalry between groups in
an urban setting carries with it significant potential for conflict, such integrated/tangled
associations actually make secession for one or more of the groups involved a far less
attractive option (Bates 1974: 462, Varshney 1997: 15).
There is another effect of modernisation which is seen to increase the potential for
ethno-national conflict: people’s rising aspirations and expectations (Melson and Wope
1970: 1114). The argument is that when expectations rise at a rate which outpaces that of
economic growth, a wider disjuncture between ‘aspired/expected’ and ‘actual’ develops
which could cause, or increase, grievance(s) (Gurr 1970: 24, Runciman 1966). Though it is
by no means inevitable that such grievances will express themselves ethno-nationally, or
indeed through violent conflict, it very often does.
A second economic factor thought to be associated with the rise of ethnonationalism concerns the dynamics between the core and periphery. It has been argued
that ethnic groups belonging to a region of a country that forms its economic periphery will
have heightened grievances vis-à-vis the core, and will seek to redress these accordingly
(Hechter 1975, Nairn 1977, Harff and Gurr 2002). This might be pursued through both
constitutional and, particularly where the former option is exhausted and/or deemed
unviable, non-constitutional methods which include the mobilising of an ethno-nationalist
movement (Coughlan and Samarasinghe 1991, Goldstone 2001). Both options will likely
lead to friction with out-groups, though clearly more so in the latter case. There are many
examples which reflect this trend, e.g. the secession of economically weak South Sudan
from Sudan in 2011.
While this appears to have characterised situations in which ethno-national
movements arise, the argument that regional inequality is, by itself, responsible for ethnonational conflict is belied by the fact that every nation-state has, to some degree, regions
within its borders that are less prosperous in relation to others; yet not all experience ethnonational conflict as a result. Rather the potential for conflict would depend upon, at a
43
minimum, the following variables; 1) the extent of regional inequalities between the core
and periphery, and whether there are ‘mini-cores’ within the periphery, or vice-versa; 2)
whether the core has displayed evidence of ‘internal colonialism’ through means such as
tapping into the periphery’s natural resources for the exclusive benefit of other regions in
the country i.e. Baluchistan in Pakistan, whose ample natural resources are being used for
the benefit of the nation’s commercial centre Karachi and, of course, its most dominant
provincial state, Punjab (Baldauf 2006); 3) the institutional remedies, if any, available to the
state to encourage some manner of equitable distribution of wealth across its regions e.g.
the Communist Party of China (CPC) policy of curtailing rural-to-urban migration, though
it has eased slightly since 1983, arguably perpetuates the separatist tendencies of ‘periphery’
provinces such as Xinjiang and Tibet.
As with many of the factors cited thus far, this one can also be read both ways: not
only regions in the periphery, but core regions too, have economic grievances which can be
articulated through ethno-nationalist expressions. An example is that of Slovenia in the late
1980s which, despite (or because of) the fact that it was the most economically successful
and industrialised republic within the country, was the first to seek to secede from
Yugoslavia. The Slovenian grievance was that of being a net contributor to a
redistributionist economy, and not enjoying the full rewards of its productivity (Ding 1991:
2, Hayden 1992: 1379, Cox 2002: 115). In the case of Slovenia’s secession in 1991, largescale violence was averted—though this might be due to the virtual absence of Serbs in the
Slovenian republic (Cox 2002: 139).
Cultural Factors in the Rise of Ethno-Nationalism
Cultural factors consist, first, of the territorial misfit between the borders of an ethnonational group’s ‘imagined homeland’ and that of the nation-state in which it resides. The
assumption is that ‘when the sentiment of [ethnic] nationality exists in any force, there is a
prima facie case for uniting all members of the nationality under one government’ (Mill
[1861]1995: 98). If the borders of the ‘imagined homeland’ are closely congruent with those
44
of the nation-state, the ethno-national group should theoretically be less likely to develop a
sense of grievance in this regard (Aya 1979: 41).28 On the other hand, if an ethnic-nation’s
imagined homeland is spread across numerous nation-states—such as the Kurdish concept
of Kurdistan which currently cuts across Turkish, Syrian, Iraqi and Iranian territory
respectively (Hassanpour 1992, Natali 2005)—this incongruence might be expected to raise
the level of grievance held by the group in question and therefore increase the potential for
conflict.29
The second factor concerns the cultural misfit between neighbouring ethnonational groups. The conventional line of argument here is that the potential for ethnonational conflict increases with the extent of the cultural dissimilarity between groups. This
argument makes sense when you consider, in reverse, in an immigrant society such as the
United States, there has been a tendency for people from certain parts of the world,
belonging to hitherto separate ethnic-nations in their own right (i.e. Ireland, Netherlands,
Germany) to, both through intermarriage (Beshers 1962, Robson 1975: 22) and choice of
residency (Short 1984: 136-137, Horowitz [1985] 2000: 65), coalesce with one another.
Thereby contributing towards the establishment of altogether new ethno-national groupings
e.g. White-Americans, Hispanics, African-Americans etc.
However the conflicting view is also credible: that ethno-national groups which are
too close culturally are likely to engage in conflict. According to Michael Ignatieff, ‘[i]t is
precisely because the differences between groups are minor that they must be expressed
aggressively. The less substantial the differences between groups the more they both
struggle to portray those differences as absolute’ (1999: 51). In other words, conflict in
such a circumstance is used by ethno-national group(s) to more clearly define boundaries
28
For example, for the Serbs of Yugoslavia, their imagined homeland corresponded
roughly with the territory of ‘Greater Serbia’, which included the vast majority of Yugoslav
territory (with notable exception of Slovenia and certain northern areas of Croatia), and
therefore by having the Serbdom already under one sovereign entity inhibited the strength of
Serb ethno-nationalism. Indeed when Yugoslavia did descend into civil war (1991-1995), it can
be seen that the Serbs were, as a group, actually fighting to defend the integrity of Yugoslavia
which was being challenged by other South Slavic groups that were displaying secessionist
inclinations.
29
The thesis does acknowledge that the potential for conflict to bring about the desired
outcome is hampered by virtue of having to take on more than one enemy.
45
between ‘them’ and ‘us’, even if the differences are, in reality, extremely trivial (Simmel
1955: 17-18, Brewer 2001). There are ample cases of this, including the violence between
the culturally proximate/intermingled Sikhs and Hindus of Punjab, India, during the
1980s.
A third cultural factor relates to the aggressiveness/tameness of a given group.
Again, this is a factor which has not been given explicit attention in the literature, though it
is often noted that groups which are perceived, or perceive themselves, to be more
aggressive/martial in character are prone to engaging in open conflict as a means of
addressing pre-existing grievances, including those of an ethno-national variety (Randhawa
1954: 40, Benard 1986: 635). An example is the Pathan population situated across the
territory of Afghanistan and Pakistan. This population has acquired a reputation, fairly or
otherwise, for resorting to violence far more frequently, and brutally, than others in the
region. Indeed, consistent with the above claim, the history of this group since the turn of
the twentieth century reveals that they have been in a perpetual state of conflict for much of
that time (Spain 1963, Banerjee 2000).
Nevertheless the assumption that groups typically more tame in nature are
somehow immune from involvement in ethno-national conflict is undermined by the
historic treatment of the largely passive Jewish diaspora.30 It could be argued, as it was by
many Israeli statesmen in the initial years after Israel’s formation, that a group which is
passive and ill-equipped for its own defence, actually invites transgressors to commit violent
acts against it by virtue of those out-groups not fearing any prospect of a backlash
(Zerubavel 1994: 80, Gur-Ze’ev 2004: 52, Porat 2004: 620).
The fourth cultural factor involves the historical relations between ethno-national
groups. The typical line of argument advanced here is that the existence of ‘ancient hatreds’
between ethno-national groups increases the likelihood for the re-emergence of violence
between them (Gagnon 1994/5: 3, Igwara 1995, Brown 1997: 3, Bernstein and Munro
30
This consisted of being subject to horrific acts of violence from neighbouring groups
fuelled by ethno-national fervour, ranging from numerous anti-Semitic pogroms toward the
Nazi-led Holocaust.
46
1997: 19). The argument appears to have firm basis, and it helps to explain numerous cases
of ethno-national conflict around the world (e.g. between China and Japan, Muslim
majority Pakistan and Hindu majority India, Tutsi and Hutus in East Africa etc.).
Nevertheless, one should not assume that ‘ethnic hatreds’ will necessarily bring about
recurrent conflict; for, as the strong Franco-German axis in the EU demonstrates, memory
of past wrongdoings can actually foster a ‘never again’ type mentality and, providing a
measure of reconciliation precedes it, form the basis of future friendship.
Summary
The discussion thus far shows that, though the scholarly literature elaborates numerous
structural, political, economic and cultural explanations for ethno-nationalism and ethnonational conflict, none (despite occasional protestations to the contrary) are capable of
emphatically accounting for ethno-national conflict on their own, even with respect to a
single case. As the discussion shows, it is usually easy to find counter-arguments to expose
the limitations of the arguments advanced on behalf of one or another of these factors or
sets of factors. What we can conclude from this discussion is, first, that all factors
mentioned thus far have a measure of explanatory value; and that, second, the discourse is
by no means ‘closed’, and there remains room for investigation of additional
contributory/causal factors.
II. Refugees
Refugees
A refugee is, according to the 1951 UN Convention on Refugees (Convention and Protocol
Relating to the Status of Refugees), any person who, ‘owing to well-founded fear of being
persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social
group or political opinion, is outside the country of his[her] origin’ (quoted in Gallagher
1989: 50). Though offering a fairly robust definition, the Convention excludes the displaced
47
peoples that have settled within non-signatory states such as Pakistan and India. In this
thesis, the term ‘refugee’ will be extended to include such people.
Refugees as a By-Product of Ethno-Nationalism/Ethno-National Conflict
Although there are numerous circumstances through which refugee populations can be
created, it is clear that such people are all too often by-products of ethnonationalism/ethno-national conflict (Newland 1993: 143, Harff and Gurr 2002: 1). In order
to understand why this is the case, one must appreciate the extent to which, as alluded to
earlier, ethno-nationalists view ethnic homogeneity within the nation as a virtue and, by
consequence, heterogeneity as a threat to its vitality.
However the existence of such a desire alone is seldom enough to spark ethnonational violence against particular minorities (and by consequence the forced expulsion of
the latter). Instead it requires that such sentiment be translated into policy directives,
official or unofficial, by the dominant group and/or governing elite in question, and for
those policy directives to be implemented. From what can be observed there are six such
ethno-national-driven policy directives that serve to bring about this end.
The first is that the dominant group display their ‘true custodianship’ over the
land and special privilege to rule or preside over the creation of a fully-fledged ethnicnation within the demarcated territory irrespective of its pre-existing heterogeneity. This is
usually done by reference to ‘who was there first’. The dominant group will likely argue
that it has been in the territory for time immemorial. It is very often the case, of course, that
the group is unable, even with excessive manipulation of historical artefacts (Coningham
and Lewer 2000), to demonstrate this, especially when there is a documented history of
their arrival into the land. Yet they may still manage to produce a convincing claim to the
territory by citing alternative justification(s). For example, many Hindu nationalists,
particularly before 1947, claimed that they were the true custodians of Akhand Bharat, not
only because they were ‘the heirs’ to the Vedic Aryans who, it is believed, crossed over the
48
Himalayas into the Indian subcontinent thousands of years previously,31 but also because
these Aryans were supposed to have, depending on which version you follow, arrived into
a land that was either sparsely populated or unpopulated altogether.32 The net effect of
defining the dominant group as the true custodians, through whatever criteria, are that
those falling outside this category will often be relegated to second-class citizens, increasing
the likelihood that they will eventually depart from the nation as refugees.
The second policy directive involves redefining, without giving up their claim to
being an ethnic-nation, its ethno-national identity. Typically such a redefinition allows it
to be all-encompassing, since degrees of homogeneity and heterogeneity are relative. An
example of this occurred in the Balkans during the late nineteenth century, when
progressive Croat clergyman Bishop Strossmayer evoked nostalgic memories of the Illyrian
Provinces that existed under Napoleonic rule to envision a Yugoslavia that would unite all
‘racially similar’ South Slavic peoples under one entity (Darby et al. 1966: 53, 154).
Nevertheless, it must be conceded that while national identity can be manipulated to
correspond neatly with state borders, and though a territorially larger nation-state is
conducive to the achievement of great-power status (Cohn 1885: 447-449), there are limits
to this: for even ‘the most messianic nationalists do not dream of a day when all of the
human race join their nation in the way that it is possible, in certain epochs, for, say
Christians to dream of a wholly Christian planet’ (Anderson 1983: 7). Overall, the
redefinition or extension of the ethno-national identity to include previously outsider
groups could yet generate political refugees—namely those individuals or groups who
object to such a unification process.
31
According to orthodox interpretation, only those belonging to the Brahmin, Kshatriya
and Vaishya varnas respectively can legitimately claim to be Aryas. Whereas Shudras (and noncastes) that constitute a huge proportion of the contemporary ‘Hindu’ population are excluded
from this definition.
32
When replying to the question, ‘what was the name of [Aryavartta] before [the
coming of the Aryans], and who were its aboriginal inhabitants?’, Swami Dayananda Saraswati,
founder of the Arya Samaj, answered, ‘it had no name, nor was it inhabited by any other people
before the Aryas [settled in it] who sometime after creation came straight down here from Tibet
and colonised this country’ ([1875] 1984: 265).
49
The third, and slightly more drastic policy, is the shrinking of national territorial
borders in order to purge it of non-nationals. Although a state may indeed attain increased
ethnic homogeneity (at least relatively), this method seldom makes economic or strategic
sense because states that have conceded large tracts of territory in the past have tended to
suffer adversely as a result.33 After the contraction of its borders, the state is still likely to
retain minority populations, albeit considerably smaller numerically, which may feel even
less secure than they did previously and, as such, eventually depart the country as refugees.
The fourth policy involves the assimilation of the non-nationals into the ‘national
polity’. An example is Turkey with regard to its minority Kurds, with the state banning the
use of the Kurdish language34 and allegedly building dams in Kurdish inhabited areas so as
to prompt the latter’s migration into Turkish dominated cities along the western coast of
Anatolia. In such circumstances, the culturally suppressed ethno-national minorities may
deem it wise to depart the country altogether.
A fifth policy is to engage in an orderly population exchange between
neighbouring states, as happened with Greece and Turkey in 1923. Even in such cases
many people are moved against their will, although the receiving state(s) would not
necessarily grant them the title of a ‘refugee’. The seventh, and perhaps the crudest of these
policy directives, is to resort to forcible eviction or mass extermination (Gellner 1983: 2).
Historically, most refugees have been created this way, with Germany’s approach to its
Jewish population during the 1930s and 1940s being perhaps the most evocative modern
example of this.
33
In post-Soviet Russia, the loss of control over the oil-rich Central Asian republics has
led to increasing American and Chinese involvement in that region. In addition the fact that
many of the former Eastern Bloc countries have joined the EU and NATO has severely
hampered Russia’s regional interests.
34
This ban was in effect between 1980 and 1991.
50
Summary
Although each of the policy directives discussed above are capable of producing refugee
populations, it is evident that, all other things being equal, some are likely to produce more
refugees and, with that, more violence than others. Awareness of the circumstances
surrounding refugee arrival therefore enables us to better comprehend the impact they are
likely to exert upon their hosts.
Refugee Impact
In addition to being forcibly removed from their homelands, another crucial component of
the ‘refugee journey’ is, of course, their arrival, and subsequent settlement, into their host
societies. Considering that refugees have a qualitatively different set of experiences from
economic migrants (Cortes 2004), the nature of their impact upon their host countries has,
correspondingly, been considered to be unique, so much so that it has generated its own
scholarly discourse.
Much of the literature examining the impact of refugees on host countries has, with
a few notable exceptions (e.g. Jacobsen 2002), tended to write from the perspective of the
host society rather than from that of the refugees, and most of this literature has depicted
this impact in predominantly negative terms. The impacts that have been explored can be
categorised as demographic, economic and social.
Demographic Impacts
Ironically, refugee groups in host societies tend to be resented for the same reason that they
were expelled from their countries of origin: that, by their mere existence, they contribute
to the growth of demographic heterogeneity. Together with ‘polluting the purity’ of the
national populace, a refugee influx is seen as having the potential to create, or exacerbate
pre-existing, ethnic, religious or racial tensions. In many European and North American
states, certain political elites, such as former UK Home Secretary David Blunkett (The
Guardian 2004), express their opposition to refugee influxes by tactfully citing challenges
51
posed to social cohesion and suggest that ‘the burden’ should be distributed between a
larger number of receiving states (almost always assuming that their country has more
refugees than it ought to). There are a number of variables that influence the level of
tension involved, including; 1) the identity disjuncture between the refugee populace and
the host society (Kunz 1981: 46, Weiner 1995: 47); 2) whether there exists the will and the
means on the part of both the hosts and the refugee group to allow for the latter to
successfully assimilate/integrate into the national mainstream; and 3) the demographic
impact upon the host society (both in percentage and real terms), including if the numbers
of refugees are large enough to significantly modify the political dynamics in the host
society (Brown 1996: 576).
Economic Impacts
Perhaps the most frequently cited objection against refugees is that of their supposed
negative impact upon host economies (Mears 1929, Smythe 1982). For example, it has
been noted that refugees tend to place excessive strain on natural resources by creating a
fierce competition with the host population over its access and consumption (Black and
Sessay 1997). Furthermore, it has been suggested that refugees, particularly when they view
their stay as temporary, are less likely to use these resources sustainably (Martin 2005: 332).
Also on many occasions the host population develop a deep resentment against the
refugees owing to the assumption that the latter increase the strain on public services such
as healthcare.35
Moving away from their impact on natural and state resources, refugees are
deemed as having a negative effect on the labour market too, since they are not, unlike
economic migrants, selected on the basis of their skills and thus tend to contribute towards
an oversupply in certain sectors. Even when certain governments aim to respond to such
challenges by, for instance, banning refugees from paid employment (which is aimed at
deterring ‘bogus’ asylum seekers too), these measures may actually serve to increase the
35
Often the role that refugees play in working in the public services for relatively lowpay is ignored by elements within the host society wishing to make the case against them.
52
host populations’ resentment against them, since; 1) it adds credence to the view of the
refugees being a ‘societal leech’; and 2) it often ends up pushing refugees into the informal
economy where they not only undercut the host population workforce but also avoid
paying income tax in the process. Of course much of the literature surrounding the
economic impacts that refugees exert upon their host nations, while often making forceful
arguments, teeter on the brink of simplicity. The arrival of refugees naturally influence the
various sectors of a host society differently e.g. tenants may well see their rents rise as a
result of heightened demand, but, at the same time, this will deliver benefits to the
landlords (Benard 1986: 622-623).
Social Impacts
Refugees have been accused, though perhaps less so by more recent literature, of producing
substantially negative social impacts on their host societies (Nashef 1992, Laliberté et al.
2003). It is assumed that because a refugee may have lost family members and/or valuable
assets during their exile, s/he may have developed an apathetical outlook to life: an attitude
that ‘the world owes me a living’ (Aall 1967: 26). While this argument might have a degree
of truth in it with respect to certain refugee groups, it clearly does not apply for all. One
only need look at the impressive economic performance of generations of diasporic Jews in
Europe and North America to counter that view. Another argument, which is perhaps
more credible is that, having likely been subject to gruesome levels of violence in their
previous homes, refugees might have a higher threshold in defining ‘permissible forms of
violence’ in conflict situations (Simpson 1939: 9, Cirtautas 1957: 70, 73). This would, in
turn, make refugees ‘not only more aggressive than non-refugees’ but also ‘more aggressive
than they themselves were before’, with adverse implications for violent crime within their
host nations (Keller 1975: 3). Nevertheless, granting that the social impacts of refugee
arrival constitutes a problem for host societies, one would still, by all reckoning, need to
take into consideration the condition of at least three main variables to accurately gauge its
extent: 1) the method and means of the refugee displacement, i.e. the policy directive used
53
by the dominant/ruling group in their departed nation and the nature of the violence
suffered, if at all; 2) the cultural edifices of the group in question, i.e. whether they had a
history of passivity before their exile; and 3) the approach of the host society towards the
refugee group, i.e. whether the nation has a welfare state to which refugees can obtain
access.
Summary
It is clear that refugee arrival results in substantial, and what has been seen by some as
overwhelmingly negative, demographic, economic and social repercussions for host
societies.
However, perhaps what is most intriguing, concerns what the literature on social
impacts implies rather than explicitly states. Specifically, the literature suggests that
refugees display a greater tendency towards violence as compared to their non-refugee
counterparts, with the insinuation being that, for refugees, violence constitutes some form
of reactive impulse, almost animalistic, as a result of having themselves endured, or at least
witnessed, similar acts in their countries of origin. It also suggests that, since exile results in
considerable turmoil for refugees—including a weakening of their relative socio-economic
status, associated causalities (fatal or otherwise) and damage to their self-esteem—they
have, on the one hand, a heightened sense of grievance and injustice in which to translate
into motives for violence; and on the other, far less to materially to constrain them.
Irrespective of whether these assumptions have a factual basis, it seems that the existing
scholarship has ‘missed a trick’ by only focusing on violent disorder at the level of individual
refugees, thus leaving it as a matter for psychologists and criminologists to probe further.
Considering that refugees they are the victims of collective persecution in the countries
from which they departed, it would seem of paramount importance to focus upon the
collective, and coordinated, behaviour of refugees in their host society.
54
III. The Argument of the Thesis
Having sampled the literature on ethno-national conflict and refugees—finding, with the
former, ample scope for the advancement of additional explanations, and with the latter, a
patent neglect of the collective, coordinated, social behaviour/action that refugees exert
upon their hosts—this thesis proposes an argument that, if verified, will make a
contribution toward both sets of discourse. The argument follows that, though refugee
groups may well be the by-product of ethno-national conflict in their previous country of
residence, they will, after their arrival into their host nations, likely contribute towards the
rise of ethno-national conflict. This can be stated as the following hypothesis:
H1 The arrival of refugees into their host societies will likely contribute towards the rise
of ethno-national conflict.
For, if refugees, as individuals, are said to be more likely to engage in violence on account
of having previously been victims of violence, then it seems logical to apply the same
principle at a collective level with respect to ethno-national conflict.
However, the justification behind advancing this argument/hypothesis extends
beyond the logic outlined above. Rather this author has observed numerous cases of
refugee arrival in societies the world over which have subsequently descended into some
form of ethno-national conflict (see Table 1). These ethno-national conflicts have hitherto
been explained by factors (such as those discussed earlier), with the ‘refugee’ aspect36 of the
participant ethno-national groups, if not ignored entirely, tending to be viewed as
inconsequential to the rise of the conflict. This thesis suggests that its advanced hypothesis
holds emphatic explanatory potential and should, where appropriate, be utilised alongside
existing factors/impacts so as to help foster a more complete understanding of those cases
involving refugees and ethno-national conflict.
36
In particular, the unique nature of the refugee experience which sets them apart from
other groups.
55
Nearly all societies, at some stage in their history, have permitted the influx of
refugee populations. This has not always generated an eruption of ethno-national conflict.
Indeed it could be argued that, far from ethno-national conflict being a likely corollary to
refugee arrival, as this thesis proposes, the observed cases (see Table 1) are in fact far less
than those in which ethno-national conflict has not subsequently ensued. Such criticism is
not without basis. However, this thesis does not propose that H1 be tested, carte blanche,
against the multiple cases of refugee arrival around the world. Nor could we expect the
corresponding results to validate the advanced hypothesis. Rather it is vital to first identify
a common set of traits that bind the observed cases together37 and which, it can be
hypothesised, serve to account for the rise of ethno-national conflict—thus only allowing
prospective cases sharing all of these traits (henceforth ‘provisions’) to be tested against the
advanced hypothesis. These provisions are as follows:

Established Co-Ethnic Presence: A pre-existing co-ethnic presence appears to
assist the prospect of ethno-national conflict transpiring. The refugees themselves,
while being the ones directly affected by the persecution waged against their ethnic
group, on their own, are unlikely to have the capacity to achieve the manner of
vengeance/justice they may crave. Co-ethnics on the other hand, prone to
empathise with the refugee plight (Robbins 1956: 316), are typically more capable
of translating, without the undue time-lapse, these grievances into action. This is
achieved by the co-ethnics through the utilisation of, first, their undisturbed
emotional faculty; second, their superior access to political patronage; third, their
relatively secure economic resources; and fourth, their connections with localised
‘underground’ networks.

Concentrated Demographic Presence: If refugees, together with their co-ethnic
kin, command a concentrated, preferably majority, demographic presence—
irrespective of scale and whether or not it corresponds to an official administrative
unit or set of units—this increases the prospect of ethno-national conflict
37
Needless to say these traits are not found in societies where ethno-national conflict
has not followed refugee influx.
56
manifesting. This is so on two levels. The first, being surrounded by ‘one’s own
kind’ fosters an enclave mentality and perpetuates the existence/development of
subjective communal memories—a momentum that is likely to create friction, and
eventual conflict vis-à-vis out-groups. Second, the territory in which the refugee
group and their co-ethnics predominate can be earmarked as, or as part of, a
potential ethno-national state.

Credible Claim to Territory: No conflict, described as ‘ethno-national’, can occur
between two or more groups without competing claims over territory. Therefore the
refugees, together with their co-ethnic kin, would need to be able to articulate some
sort of credible, not necessarily legitimate, claim to the territory they deem to be
theirs (at least enough to convince a significant proportion of their group). It should
be noted that this territory does not necessarily have to correspond with that in
which they are presently concentrated in, although it often will be.
57
Table 1 Observed Cases
58
IV. Theoretical Framework
Having advanced the main hypothesis (H1), together with its associated provisions, it is
now necessary to reveal the precise lens, or theoretical framework, through which
prospective cases will be analysed/tested. In view of what this thesis is trying to test, the
chief consideration in developing this framework was to ensure that it be able to capture
and help explain the qualitatively unique features of the refugee experience, yet, at the same
time, be sensitive to the contextual conditions impinging upon the group at any given time.
The theoretical framework assumes that refugees bring with them two
predetermined outcomes. The first is a ‘victimhood-rich’ collective memory of their exile.
The second is a re-territorialization of their persecuted identity. Together, subject to the
condition of their associated variables, these outcomes are conducive to the rise of ethnic
tensions, and eventually conflict, vis-à-vis out-groups.
Predetermined Outcome 1 [Refugee Collective Memory]
The first predetermined outcome is that, owing to a combination of their shared
experiences of persecution and participation in intra-refugee discourses,38 refugees hold
their own ‘collective memory’39 of their exile, a narrative which, by its very nature, is
‘victimhood-rich’40 in content. Though there have been criticisms levelled at the very idea
of sub-groups/groups holding a collective memory at all (Bartlett [1932] 1995), given that
memory formulation and memory recall can only truly occur at the level of the individual,41
38
Discussions between refugees with regards to their exilic experiences merely help to
increase the ‘collectiveness’ of the ‘collective memory’ developed (Pentzopoulos 2002: 204).
39
The term ‘collective memory’ finds its origins in the seminal work of Maurice
Halbwachs (1925, 1980, 1992), with scholars such as Paul Connerton (1989) and Pierre Nora
(1989) having made important contributions since. Despite their differences, the general
consensus is that groups are tied together through shared memories—whether at the level of
the family, nation or even religious community—to the point that without them, a group could
seldom exist at all (see Appendix I).
40
This ‘victimhood-rich’ memory is not restricted to refugees alone but applies in the
case of stranded minorities too. However for the latter (a group who fall outside the main scope
of this thesis), their memory generally lacks sufficient potency and therefore remains fairly
ineffective.
41
However, not even Halbwachs himself suggested that memory could operate beyond
the individual: ‘while collective memory endures and draws strength from its base in a coherent
59
this does not discount the fact that such individuals tend to have substantial ‘overlap’
(Campbell 1988: 23) in aspects of their memory concerning the event(s) around which their
group identities are defined (in the case of refugees it would be their exile)—thus alluding
to the existence of a collective memory (albeit one which does not exist beyond the level of
the individual).
Of course, simply because refugees hold a collective memory of their exile, this
does not, on its own, imply that this particular predetermined outcome will contribute
towards the rise of ethno-national conflict. Rather, it is the existence and condition of the
two following associated variables which largely determine whether or not refugee
collective memory serves a contributory role.
Associated Variable [Diffusion Process]
Collective memory has traditionally been understood as ‘blind to all but the group that it
binds’ (Nora 1989: 9). However, this thesis takes the line that aspects of the refugee
collective memory, during episodes of ‘personalised interaction’,42 diffuse horizontally
into the consciousness of their non-refugee ethnic kin and, after a period of a few
years,43 vertically down into their post-event offspring.44 This diffusion process results in
non-refugees acquiring a ‘refugee tinge’ to their own, or pan-ethnic, ‘event-related
memory’45 i.e. the ‘event’ which prompted the refugee departure. Clearly if the diffusion
process materialises, and does so at a high rate and depth, this is likely to prove conducive
towards the pan-ethnic group engaging in conflict vis-à-vis out-groups. However, in spite of
body of people, it is individuals as group members who remember’ [emphasis added] (1980:
48).
42
Such instances of ‘personalised interaction’ range from a relatively short exchange
toward a series of interactions throughout a prolonged period of time. It is also quite likely that
the non-refugees appropriate ‘refugee memory’ from more than one subject.
43
In the immediate post-event years, diffusion can only occur horizontally as those
offspring born in this period remain too young to appropriate their parents’ exilic memory.
44
Post-event offspring include the children and grandchildren, as well as potentially all
subsequent generations (providing they are aware of their familial history), stemming from the
refugees.
45
Though, strictly speaking, non-refugee ethnic kin born after the exilic event and postevent offspring cannot be truly said to have a memory of it, it is clear that they can still hold an
understanding of the event which, following the diffusion process, becomes so emotionally
charged that it resembles ‘actual’ memory itself.
60
this it must be said, as with any instance of ‘personalised interaction’, that the flow of
memory is seldom completely one-directional (i.e. from refugee to non-refugee). Rather there
may be aspects of the non-refugee ethnic/post-event offspring ‘event-related memory’
which the refugees in turn appropriate so as to mould their own understanding of their
exilic experience—though these so-called ‘backwash effects’ will likely only occur at
relatively negligible levels.
Figure 1 Diffusion Process
Associated Variable [Shape and Potency]
The refugee collective memory, and if applicable, the ‘refugee-tinged’ pan-ethnic memory
held by the non-refugees (inclusive of non-refugee ethnic kin and post-event offspring), does
not emerge or operate in a vacuum separate from the surrounding contextual conditions,
but rather is subject to regular change in terms of their shape (i.e. the exact narrative, such
as ‘who were the guilty’) and potency (i.e. its ability to penetrate from the private sphere to
the public). For example, on occasions when the refugee/pan-ethnic group are aggrieved at
61
the treatment meted out to them by their central government, they may, assuming there is
enough malleability to do so, attempt to evoke an exilic memory that is ‘anti-host nation’ in
shape46 and potent enough to penetrate into the public sphere so as to be acted upon.
Predetermined Outcome 2 [Re-Territorialization Process]
The second predetermined outcome is that of the re-territorialization process. Owing to
their traumatic exilic experience, refugees will inevitably grow more conscious of their
persecuted identity as a result. More specifically, these identities will become less
permeable, with the group becoming more alert to any potential assaults on it, be they
implicit or explicit (Benard 1986: 632). Admittedly not all refugees will necessarily attempt
to associate with their persecuted identity, with a few perhaps wishing to shed such
connection altogether owing to the fact that it had been that part of their identity which had
contributed towards their exile in the first place. However, even in such cases, they would
still be making a conscious decision to dissociate from their persecuted identity (Kunz 1981:
46). Therefore, in conjunction with identity in itself being ‘territorialized’47 or rooted in
place, once in their host society, refugees, being by definition a ‘de-territorialized’
group, will endeavour to ‘re-territorialize’ their persecuted identity.48 Indeed, it is for the
sake of the identity’s very survival that the re-territorialization process manifests itself, with
failure to do so leading to its inevitable death—similar to how an uprooted plant must be
replanted straightaway or else will rapidly wither away and die. Once again, as with the
first predetermined outcome, this outcome does not, in itself, bring about the rise of ethnonational conflict. Rather whether such conflict materialises or not, or for that matter
46
This can be achieved through subjecting the memory to fabrication, selective
amnesia, skewing etc. Admittedly its group members need not be aware of this process, with
Nora actually describing collective memory as being ‘unconscious of its successive
deformations’ (1989: 7).
47
In other words, identity is inextricably tied to territory to the extent that identity could
not emerge, or survive, without it (Zolberg 1981, Marrus 1985: 8, Clifford 1988: 338, Malkki
1992).
48
In addition to refugees, post-event offspring are also permitted to re-territorialize their
identity. This is because, despite not being themselves de-territorialized in the truest sense,
much like their refugee parents/ancestors they cannot claim to be ‘rooted’ to the territory of the
host nation.
62
whether or not it would be violent in nature, hinges largely upon the forms and outlets of
re-territorialization subscribed to.49
Associated Variable [Form(s)/Outlet(s)]
The outlets available to re-territorialize their persecuted identity span across two main
forms. These include the lower-level (or localised ethnic forms of expression)50 and the
wider-level (specifically ethno-national forms of expression).51
Lower-Level (LL):

General intolerance towards ‘outsider’ groups.

Tendency to live in ghettoes, ‘dominating’ local space, wearing traditional clothing
(Ross 2007) etc.

Engagement in ethnic-level politics.
Wider-Level (WL):

WL-1: Passive reference to the departed homeland. For instance, the Parsis of
Gujarat, while being aware that their ethnic homeland is not in India but rather in
modern-day Iran, do not entertain any realistic hope or will of making a return
there. As far as wider-level expressions are concerned this is probably the least
likely to trigger ethno-national conflict between groups, however the host society
may well doubt the refugee group’s loyalty to their resident nation. A further issue
for the group is that it is often difficult to mobilise younger members over such
49
The exact form or outlet of re-territorialization that the refugees engage in, inevitably
hinges upon contextual conditions (the same contextual conditions that influence the shape and
potency of the exilic collective memory). Furthermore, it is quite conceivable that the reterritorialization process will not be restricted to just one form or outlet at any one time.
50
All refugee groups must, at a minimum, subscribe to lower-level outlet(s). However
subscription to lower-level outlets alone is unlikely to spark the rise of ethno-national conflict.
51
Wider-level is there to supplement lower-level outlets, and never to replace it. As
such a refugee group cannot engage in wider-level forms of expression without engaging lowerlevel ones also.
63
passive territorial associations, to the point that the group identity itself could be
severely threatened.

WL-2: Assertive demand to return to the departed homeland. An example in this
regard would be the Tibetans living in India and their desire to return to Tibet.
Such a demand has to factor in the prospect of political change in the departed
homeland so that the hitherto refugees can become, or at least form part of, the new
ruling elite. Very much like (WL-1), this demand is likely to raise questions from
the host population as to the loyalty of this group, with this refugee group suspected
of having merely a short-term association with the land of residence and hence
‘using’ it for its own ends rather than investing in its future prosperity. Such a
demand will also raise the possibility of ethno-national conflict between the refugee
group (and perhaps the host nation) on the one hand, and the nation-state having
sovereign jurisdiction over the departed homeland on the other.

WL-3: Tie persecuted identity with that of the host nation. This can be
demonstrated with respect to the Hindu Sindhis, who, after leaving the urban
centres of Sindh during the partition of India, have tended to tie their persecuted
Hindu identity with that of the host nation. It is for this reason that many highprofile Sindhis in India have appeared to be more supportive of a Hindutvaorientated India, as demonstrated through support for the Bharatiya Janata Party
(BJP) or Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), as opposed to the composite
nationalism espoused by the Indian National Congress (INC) (Kothari 2004, 2006).
The problem in this regard is that the disjuncture between the persecuted identity of
the refugee group and the national identity may be too wide to conceivably
reconcile even through the flexibility of the latter. However, assuming that this tie is
successful, the potential for conflict emerges principally between those that identify
with this ‘persecuted identity’, both refugees and co-ethnics, and those groups, often
minorities, resisting, or perceived of as threats to, it.
64

WL-4: Pursuit of an autonomy movement within the host nation. This is
probably the second most likely of the wider-level forms to create ethno-national
conflict, since it would inevitably provoke a reaction from non-refugee elements
within the host society. Even so, the refugee group in question would need to
articulate some sort of credible claim to the territory it aims to make autonomous.
This usually would mean they would need to constitute a majority in the
demarcated territory, or be willing to take steps to achieve this.

WL-5: An outright separatist movement out of the host nation. Like (WL-4), the
refugee group would need to articulate a credible claim to the territory and usually
constitute the majority population within that demarcation, or be willing to take
steps to achieve this. Also, though it may well appear at first glance anyway, the
most attractive option out of the five wider-level outlets available, it is probably the
most difficult to achieve owing to the probable bloodshed and political wrangling
involved. It is perhaps only during specific ‘windows of opportunity’, such as an
economic or political crisis afflicting the host nation, that this outlet can gather
large-scale support.
65
Figure 2 Theoretical Framework Model
66
V. Case Study: The Sikhs
In adherence with the provisions laid out above, which include an established co-ethnic
presence, concentrated demographic presence and a credible claim to territory; the case
study that has been selected to test H1 against is that of the Sikhs.52 To be precise, the thesis
will endeavour to determine whether the Sikh refugees, following their arrival into
truncated Punjab/India during the partition of 1947, acted as a contributing factor towards
the rise of the Khalistan movement in the 1980s. This yields the case-specific hypothesis to
be explored:
H2 The arrival of Sikh refugees into truncated Punjab contributed towards the rise of the
Khalistan movement.
This section will proceed to offer an overview of the partition of India, the Sikh refugees
and the Khalistan movement (in that order).
Partition of India
By the time that the last batch of British troops made their symbolic exit through the
Gateway of India in Bombay (now Mumbai) on 28 February 1948, the Raj had transferred
administrative control over its erstwhile territories in the subcontinent to not one but two
dominions: the truncated, and principal successor state, India with its Hindu majority; and
the newly formed Muslim majority state of Pakistan (see Map 1).
Although the roots of Muslim separatism in the subcontinent remain disputed, the
notion of actually carving out a separate Muslim state or states as such was a relatively
recent conception—introduced in Choudhry Rahmat Ali’s pamphlet of 1933. However, it
was not until March 1940, when the All-India Muslim League (AIML) passed its infamous
Lahore Resolution, calling for areas in which the Muslims constituted a majority (namely
the north-western and eastern zones of India) to be grouped together to form separate
independent Muslim states, that the prospect became a live political issue in India. Though
52
For the purposes of this thesis, the Sikhs will be considered an ethno-national group.
67
it is debatable as to whether Muslim support for Pakistan was fuelled by a genuine fear of
Hindu domination at the centre,53 the prospect of personal political or economic gain,54 a
firm belief in a separate nationality from that of the Hindus,55 a desire to set-up an
administrative zone for the implementation of Shariah Law,56 a misguided notion of what
‘Pakistan’ entailed and/or where its borders would lie,57 or sheer irrational
sentimentality58—the Muslim electorate seemed to rally behind the Muslim League in
impressive fashion in the 1946 Constituent Assembly elections. This arguably gave the
Pakistan movement a credible mandate, and owing to an aggregate of other factors, the
plan to partition India along communal lines was officially agreed upon in early June 1947
by the three major stakeholders in the country: the INC, the AIML, and the representative
of the British Crown, Viceroy Lord Louis Mountbatten.
As Muhammad Ali Jinnah suggested to an audience of Muslim Leaguers, ‘[the]
Congress leaders may shout as much as they like that the Congress is a national body. But I say
that is not true. The Congress is nothing but a Hindu body’ (quoted in Pirzada 1982: 304).
54
Hamza Alavi suggested that Pakistan owed its formation to the support of the
emerging Muslim urban middle-class whom he termed the ‘salariat’ (1988: 67).
55
The then AIML President, Sir Syed Wazir Hasan, remarked that ‘it should always be
borne in mind that India is a continent; it should further be borne in mind that Hindus and the
Mussalmans, inhabiting this vast continent, are not communities; but should be considered two
nations in many respects’ [emphasis added] (quoted in Chagla 1973: 103-104).
56
Despite Jinnah’s famous speech on the eve of partition, 11 August 1947, that
seemingly, and quite paradoxically, displayed his secular vision for the new ‘Muslim nation’:
‘You are free; you are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any
other place of worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion or caste or
creed—that has nothing to do with the business of the State’ (quoted in Ahmed 1997: 175);
there remained many Muslim League supporters, such as Maulana Shabbir Ahmad Usmani,
who had supported the Pakistan movement principally on the notion it would be an Islamic state
(Hardy 1972: 242). Indeed even Sir Allama Iqbal, upon whose ‘final destiny of the Muslims’
the Lahore Resolution allegedly satisfied, actually wrote to Jinnah in a letter, dated 28 May
1937, that: ‘After a long and careful study of Islamic Law I have come to the conclusion that if
this system of law is properly understood and applied…the enforcement and development of the
Shariat of Islam is impossible in this country without a free Muslim state or states’ (quoted in
Hardy 1972: 241).
57
For instance Liaquat Ali Khan, who went on to serve as Pakistan’s first Prime
Minister, suggested, following the passing of the Lahore Resolution, that, ‘whereas we want to
include in our proposed dominion Delhi and Aligarh which are centres of our culture…rest
assured that we will [not] have to give away any part of the Punjab’ (quoted in Naim 1979:
186).
58
Australian-born Richard Casey, who served as Governor of Bengal (1944-1946),
remarked that, ‘I do not believe…that even today the bulk of Muslims have given anything like
enough thought to the demand for Pakistan. I do not believe that they have analysed the
establishment of Pakistan objectively. They accept the fact that Mr Jinnah says he wants
Pakistan and their deep faith in his leadership leads them to accept the idea’ (quoted in The
Tribune 1947).
53
68
As a result of the division, the new state of Pakistan was carved out of the northwestern and north-eastern wings of the subcontinent, and sandwiched between it:
approximately one thousand miles of Indian Territory (see Map 2). The Muslim majority
provinces of Baluchistan, Sindh, NWFP and the western portion of Punjab constituted
West Pakistan,59 with the eastern portion of Bengal and the Sylhet district of Assam
constituting East Pakistan. Punjab and Bengal were the only two Muslim majority
provinces of British India to be divided along religious lines. This occurred largely due to
pressure from the substantial non-Muslim populations residing in these provinces, and their
political leaders, who fiercely opposed the prospect of their ‘homelands’ being subject to
long-term Muslim domination, whether in the form of ‘compulsory grouping’ as set out in
the 1946 Cabinet Mission Plan or the complete partition of India. Despite Jinnah’s
objection to the partitioning of Punjab and Bengal,60 the non-Muslim stance seemed more
resolute. For if Muslims could ask to secede from India despite constituting less than a
quarter of the national population as per the 1941 census, then why could not the nonMuslims of Punjab and Bengal, who allegedly constituted a separate nation, be entitled to
demand the partitioning of those provinces along communal lines when they not only
constituted well over 40 per cent of those provinces but also predominated in certain
portions of them.
59
The Pakistan administered territories of Kashmir, gained during the First Kashmir
War (1947-1948) with India, held a different constitutional status from the rest of West
Pakistan.
60
According to Lord Mountbatten, when presenting Jinnah with the prospect of a
divided Punjab and Bengal as requisite for Pakistan’s creation, the latter objected that: ‘A man
is a Punjabi or a Bengali first before he is a Hindu or a Muslim. If you give us those provinces
you must, under no condition, partition them. You will destroy their viability and cause endless
bloodshed and trouble’ (quoted in Collins and Lapierre 1981: 42). Jinnah also pointed out that if
provinces could be divided simply because their minority populations demanded so, then ‘the
result of that will be, logically, that all other provinces will have to be cut up in a smaller way
which will be dangerous’ i.e. that Muslim minorities in Hindu majority provinces such as UP
could demand to be included within Pakistan (The Tribune 1947a). However Congressman Dr
Rajendra Prasad pointed out the obvious flaw in Jinnah’s desperate argument, suggesting that
‘in terms of their own [Lahore] resolution, they cannot demand any areas to be included to the
Muslim zone which are not contiguous and in which Muslims are not numerically in a majority’
[emphasis added] (The Tribune 1947a). So, with the exception of Sylhet district in Assam, no
other ‘Muslim pockets’ within Hindu majority states could conceivably merge with Pakistan.
69
In the months immediately prior, and following, the partition/independence of the
subcontinent, the dominions of India and Pakistan were busy absorbing the princely states
(which, by definition, were outside of direct British rule). Though all princely states were
theoretically given the option to declare themselves either as independent, accede to India
or accede to Pakistan; a mixture of important factors—such as the feasibility of
independence, their territorial contiguity to India or Pakistan,61 whether the overwhelming
majority of their subjects were Hindu or Muslim, as well as political pressure from the
Viceroy, New Delhi and Karachi—more often than not dictated their future destiny.
While, as it transpired, none actually managed to attain independence, the decision as to
which dominion to accede to was not always a straightforward one.62 Aside from the issue
of territory, the partition of India also led to the mammoth task of dividing national assets
and institutions. This included what had arguably stood as the cornerstones of British
success in the country: the Indian Civil Service (ICS) and the Indian Army (IA).
From the perspective of this thesis, the most important aspect of the partition was
the mass exchange of population that took place between the two dominions, resulting in,
by the time of the 1951 censuses, 8,229,699 people in India that were ‘Born in Pakistan’63
(virtually all of this number were non-Muslim partition refugees) and 7,226,584 Muslims in
Pakistan that were ‘Born in India’64 (once again this number represented partition
refugees/migrants, though this time the Muslims from India). However the ‘true’ number
of refugees would probably have been higher than these figures suggest on account of many
61
In his address to the Chamber of Princes on July 1947, Lord Mountbatten declared
that: ‘The States are theoretically free to link their future with whichever Dominion they may
care. But when I say that they are at liberty to link up with either of the Dominions, may I point
out that there are certain geographical compulsions which cannot be evaded. Out of something
like 565 States, the vast majority are irretrievably linked…with the Dominion of India’
[emphasis added] (quoted in Philips 1962: 438).
62
Aside from the notorious Kashmir case; Muslim rulers of states holding solid Hindu
majorities, such as Junagadh in Kathiawar peninsula and Hyderabad in the Deccan, expressed
desires to stay outside of the Indian Union (with the Nawab of Junagadh going to the extent of
demanding union with Pakistan). Strangely even the Rajput state of Jodhpur, with its Hindu
ruler and Hindu majority actually protested in support of unification with Pakistan.
63
Census of India 1951: 248. According to the same census, there were 3,231,981
‘displaced persons’ residing in the Punjab Sub-Zone people—2,375,977 were in Punjab state,
355,952 in Patiala and East Punjab States Union (PEPSU), 4,496 in Himachal and 495,391 in
Delhi (Census of India 1951a: 32-33).
64
Census of Pakistan 1951: 31.
70
such people dying in the period between their arrival and the 1951 census. Many of these
refugees often came on foot or bullock cart in kalifas (one of which apparently 800,000
people strong and forty-five miles long), while others arrived via overloaded trains (Keller
1975: 37). These forms of transport, even when escorted by police and military personnel,
were highly dangerous and were regularly besieged by looters and marauders belonging to
the ‘other community’ residing in nearby villages or kalifas heading in the opposite
direction. In the innumerable ‘little incidents’ of violence that occurred during partition,
hundreds if not thousands of localised minorities were killed within a matter of a few
hours, several of their womenfolk raped and abducted in the presence of their brothers,
husbands and fathers (Talib [1950] 1991, Brass 2003, Menon 2006). Those who were
fortunate enough were able to use safer forms of transport to cross the border, such as road
vehicles or even airplane (though these people were extremely few in percentage terms). In
all, it is reasonable to say that this mass exchange of population was both the result of, and
a contributor towards, the communal genocide of localised/provincial minority
populations. The motives behind much of the partition violence has been open to
contention by both those directly involved in it and scholars who have since analysed the
event, though it is fairly certain that it spanned, to varying degrees, one or a combination of
the following: petty economic gain, religious and nationalist fanaticism, retribution for
what the other community had done (or was doing) to their people across the border, and
even as a ‘defensive’ measure! It is in this milieu that we shall pay attention to the Sikh
refugees, who formed a significant part of the non-Muslims expellee population of West
Pakistan and Pakistan Administered Kashmir.
71
Map 1 Post-Partition India (January 1948)
Source: Spate 1948: 6
72
Source: Stephenson 1968: 196
Map 2 Discontiguous Pakistan
73
Sikh Refugees
Although the vast majority of Sikh refugees came from west Punjab, there were substantial
Sikh populations based in Kashmir, in Pashto-speaking NWFP, a small presence in Sind
(predominantly in Karachi), and an extremely sparse one in Baluchistan.65 It is generally
acknowledged that the Sikhs, together with Hindus, were generally a well-to-do population
in the territories that would become West Pakistan. Indeed a disproportionately high
number of urban businesses, banks and money-lenders, were in the hands of nonMuslims,66 and furthermore the two largest cities in West Pakistan on the eve of partition,
Karachi and Lahore, owed their economic prowess primarily to the efforts of such people.
The Sikhs, in particular those belonging to the Jat caste, had acquired the
distinction of being the ‘best agriculturalists’ in the whole of India (Harnam Singh 1945:
64). Jat Sikhs, many of whom had migrated from the eastern portion of Punjab state
towards the west in the 1880s, were largely responsible for transforming the barren
wastelands of districts such as Montgomery and Sheikhupura into the most prosperous and
productive agricultural lands in the whole of Punjab/India. These ‘canal colonies’, as they
were known, were nine in total on the eve of partition and all were ultimately awarded to
Pakistan (Krishan 2004: 80). To give a better sense of the economic dexterity of the nonMuslims in comparison to the Muslims of Punjab, despite the latter forming a majority
population, their ‘land revenue share…in the province [was only] 44 per cent and their
contribution to other taxes, including income tax, [was] hardly 20 per cent. On the whole
the economic share of Muslims [was] hardly 30 per cent’.67 On this basis, it is unlikely that
the decision of the numerous Sikh families to move eastwards was taken lightly. While
65
According to the 1941 census, there were 1,509,499 Sikhs in west Punjab (including
Bahawalpur) alone (Census of India 1941: 41-45). There were a total of 62,411 in NWFP
(including the surrounding states and agencies), 32,627 in Sindh (including Khairpur) and a
total of 12,044 in Baluchistan (including the surrounding states and agencies) (Census of India
1941a: 100).
66
In NWFP and Punjab these tended to include castes that had generations of
experience in such sectors, such as Khatris and Aroras (these castes cut across Hindu-Sikh
religious lines), as well as Hindu Banias.
67
FN 2-B/47 [RPP]: 26.
74
some Sikhs in the territory earmarked by ‘Pakistanists’68 began fleeing their homes in late
1946 and early 1947,69 the decision to migrate further eastwards occurred largely when it
became obvious that Punjab would be divided along communal lines (and the eastern
section awarded to India). Though some simply migrated due to their historical inhibitions
about living under Muslim rule, many others probably would have reconciled themselves
to life in West Pakistan but for the steady realisation that the assurances given by senior
Muslim Leaguers to protect the life and property of non-Muslims70 were either hollow if
not completely disingenuous (on account of the ever-increasing level of violence directed
towards the minorities as the handover date approached). For the vast majority of Sikh
refugees however, they were literally forced out of their homes, with gangs of marauders
looting and setting fire to non-Muslims property on a grand-scale, killing them in vast
numbers (in many cases wiping out entire villages of their non-Muslim population),
humiliating their womenfolk etc. In fact, many non-Muslim refugees later testified that
Muslims holding senior positions had told them blankly that Sikh and Hindu kafirs had no
right to exist in, and ‘pollute’ the land of, Pakistan.71 In such conditions of torment, the
only credible alternative to not migrating was to disassociate from their ancestral religions
and ‘embrace’ Islam.
By 1948, virtually the entire non-Muslim population of West Pakistan had
disappeared, going down from 22.9 per cent to 2.9 per cent in just a matter of months.72
The true number of these refugees killed or abducted may never be known, however,
68
In other words, the supporters of the Pakistan demand.
In Hazara district, NWFP, in December 1946, and across many of the districts in
Rawalpindi and Multan divisions during March 1947, thousands of Hindus and Sikhs were
massacred by Muslim mobs. The non-Muslims that fled these areas were usually accommodated
in refugee camps in Punjabi territory that would become part of Pakistan.
70
After the fall of the Unionist-led ministry in early March 1947, Khan Iftikhar Hussain
of Mamdot declared that ‘it has never been the desire of the Muslim League to impose the
communal domination of Muslims over non-Muslim…it will be our endeavour to secure the
willing co-operation of all Hindus and Sikhs and other minorities for the purpose of building up
a happy and prosperous Punjab’ (quoted in The Tribune 1947b).
71
Heera Lal quoted in Verma 2004: 46. ‘Memo: Montgomery District Disturbances’.
FFB, MR&R, GOI. New Delhi—Acc No.1409 [PKSMC]: 5.
72
Census of India 1941: 41-45, Census of India 1941a: 100, Census of Pakistan 1951a:
1-26. It should be noted that in West Pakistan—the Federal Capital Area of Karachi, Punjab and
NWFP—the majority of the remaining non-Muslim population were Christian.
69
75
together with the Muslim victims of partition, this figure is assumed to be within the
hundreds of thousands at least if not into the millions.73 The Sikh refugees tended to settle
down in ethnically familiar east Punjab,74 in particular those districts most proximate to the
new international border as well as within the territories of Sikh states such as Faridkot and
Patiala. Such was the demographic upheaval in Punjab that the Sikhs, who prior to 1947
held a mere 13.22 per cent of the population of British Punjab and were so thinly dispersed
that they failed to command a majority in any one of the 29 districts of the province (see
Map 4), actually became a majority in four out of remaining thirteen districts and the
largest group in another one (see Map 5).75 The Hindu refugees on the other hand, tended
to settle at some distance away from the Pakistan border, with many either heading for the
south-eastern parts of Punjab (territory which would later constitute Haryana post-1966), or
actually further afield to parts of India that were markedly dissimilar, culturally and
geographically, from that of their ancestral homes (Kamath 1984: 139, Sharma 1994: 337).
73
In a study centred upon the demographic losses of partition, it was calculated that in
Punjab alone the total ‘unaccounted for’ population ranged from anywhere between 2.3 million
to 3.2 million (Hill et al. 2008: 155).
74
This was unlike the Hindu Sindhi refugees who failed in their attempt to divide Sindh
along communal lines and thereby had, upon arrival, no option but to settle in linguistically
dissimilar territory.
75
Sikhs were also now the largest group (49.29 per cent), though not the majority, in the
new administrative body of PEPSU (created in 1948) which consisted of all former Punjab
princely states barring Bahawalpur which had joined Pakistan (Census of India 1951b: 298299).
76
Map 3 Administrative Boundaries of British Punjab, 1941
Source: Census of India 1941: 2-3
77
Map 4 Sikh Population of Punjab, 1941 (% of District Population)
78
Map 5 Sikh Population of Punjab, 1951 (% of District Population)
79
*Inter-district changes: With the notable
exception of Karnal, all above
districts encountered boundary changes between
the years 1941 to 1951
(these have not been reflected on the map
shown).
**International Boundary Changes: Gurdaspur
district lost most of
Shakargarh tehsil (-1243.19 sq.km) to Pakistan,
whereas Amritsar district
gained part of Kasur tehsil (+958.30 sq.km) from
Lahore district.
Source: Census of India 1951b: 298-299
Khalistan Movement
It is often difficult to locate a precise start-date as to the rise of a particular secessionist
movement. This is especially so when many of its protagonists contend that their demands
for separate nationhood are rooted in, and hence legitimised by, entrenched ‘historical
realities’. Nevertheless many scholars, albeit somewhat synthetically, attempting to place a
fixed timeframe around the Khalistan movement tend to commence their chronology of
events from 1981 and end them in 1993. This is largely because it was during this time
period that Punjab endured a heightened level of religious-based militancy76—with an
estimated death-toll of over 25,000 resulting from the associated violence (Puri et al. 1999:
10).
Though, strictly speaking, Khalistani77 fuelled militancy did not erupt until 1981, a
significant event did occur only three years earlier which was of considerable explanatory
importance for subsequent proceedings. On Baisakhi (13 April) 1978, a group of orthodox
Sikhs78 compromising largely of affiliates from the Akhand Kirtani Jatha (AKJ) as well as
supporters of Sant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale79 staged a protest outside the headquarters
of the ‘heretic’ Sant Nirankari sect.80 This protest deteriorated into an open confrontation
between the two opposing groups, resulting in the death of thirteen orthodox Sikhs and two
Sant Nirankaris (Prakash 2008: 535). As expected there were, and remain, conflicting
versions of this event, with orthodox Sikhs tending to believe that the protest had been
peaceful whereas the Sant Nirankari account alleges that they were attacked with weapons
and thus acted purely in self-defence. Although this episode of religious-based violence was
essentially an intra-Sikh one, the fallout actually served to widen the schism between the
Hindus and Sikhs. This was largely owed to the judicial verdict which acquitted the 62 Sant
76
Even if on many occasions religion was merely used as a mask to justify acts which
had ulterior motives.
77
Those Sikhs who supported the Khalistan movement can be termed ‘Khalistanis’.
78
These are typically Sikhs who subscribe to the Tat Khalsa doctrine of their faith.
79
Sant Bhindranwale, who had taken over as head of the esteemed Damdami Taksal in
1977, went on to play an increasingly prominent role in the socio-political landscape of Punjab.
80
The Sant Nirankaris were, and continue to be, considered heretics by orthodox Sikhs
since the former are led by a line of ‘living Gurus’, in contrast to the latter who believe that
Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth and last living Guru, enshrined the Adi Granth with the Guruship
over the Sikhs—hence ‘Sri Guru Granth Sahib’.
80
Nirankaris (including its head, Baba Gurbachan Singh) charged in connection with the
killing of the thirteen orthodox Sikh protestors, on the grounds that they had acted in selfdefence (Prakash 2008: 535). This controversial decision perhaps added credence to the
growing murmurs among certain disillusioned Sikh ranks that the Indian state held an antiSikh bias. Moreover as a result of the Baisakhi killings, a widow of one of the deceased
protestors, Bibi Amarjit Kaur founded the Babbar Khalsa outfit: a militant group which,
despite its original anti-Sant Nirankari edge, consequently performed a considerable role in
the anti-Hindu/anti-India violence associated with the Khalistan movement (Prakash 2008:
536).
Rise (1981-1990)
While tensions remained high between orthodox Sikhs and Sant Nirankaris over the next
couple of years,81 by 1981 there were signs of growing tensions between the Hindus and
Sikhs. This was owed to; 1) the seeming endorsement of the Khalistan concept by certain
Sikh socio-political leaders during the Chief Khalsa Diwan’s hosting of the Sikh
Educational Conference on 15 March 1981;82 2) the assassination of veteran newspaper
editor Lala Jagat Narain later that year on 9 September; 3) Dal Khalsa’s hijacking of an
Indian Airlines Boeing-737 plane on 29 September; and 4) arguably more so, the Congress
(I) controlled New Delhi’s inability/unwillingness to implement the main terms of the
SAD’s infamous Anandpur Sahib Resolution.83 Even though the main terms of the
A predicament not helped by the ‘reprisal killing’ of Baba Gurbachan Singh on 24
April 1980 at the hands of an AKJ member (Talveen Singh 1984: 34).
82
The conference was attended by many high profile Sikh leaders from the SGPC
(Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee) and SAD (Shiromani Akali Dal). Although no
formal resolution was passed in favour of Khalistan, US-based Ganga Singh Dhillon put
forward the idea that Sikhs were a separate nation and that they should seek their own
statehood, this was met with slogans of ‘Khalistan Zindabad’ by members of the audience
(Dang 1988: 4). While the Chief Khalsa Diwan subsequently distanced itself from Dhillon’s
comments, suspicions remained among the New Delhi intelligentsia as to the ‘true’ aims of such
Sikhs (Kapur 1986: 324).
83
Though this document was first formulated on 1973, it tended to become more of a
prominent issue in Punjab politics once the SAD were out of power in the Punjab Legislative
Assembly (PLA), namely 1973-1977 and, particular so, from 1980-1985 when, as Khushwant
Singh cynically puts it, they ‘hauled [it] out of the archives and proclaimed it as a charter of
Sikh demands’ (1984: 8-9). The main demands of the resolution included; first, an adjustment
81
81
resolution were essentially secular, it was evident that the majority of Hindu Punjabis
remained either suspicious or unmoved by the Akali demands (much to the infuriation of
ordinary Sikhs).84
With growing frustration over the perceived non-responsiveness of the centre to
their political demands, the Sant Harchand Singh Longowal-led SAD upped the ante in
August 1982 by launching its dharam yudh morcha. The morcha received widespread support
from the Sikhs to the extent that it managed to draw together all of the main Akali factions
as well as the increasingly popular preacher—Sant Bhindranwale. It was while the morcha
was into its third month that the ‘Sikhs as a community were humiliated in Haryana when
they were not permitted [by the state police, under orders of CM Bhajan Lal,] to go to
Delhi during the 1982 Asian Games’, an action justified on the basis that they may have
tried to disrupt the event (Gopal Singh 2002: 170). This experience, according to Kalyan
Rudra, ‘left a deep scar on the average Sikh mind that their community was not trusted’ by
the government (2005: 3). During the course of 1983, the Akalis led a series of rokos with
the intention of creating India-wide economic disruption, the first being the rasta roko of
April, followed by the June rail roko, and in August, the kam roko. Unfortunately for the
Akalis even these demonstrations failed to draw the major concessions from the centre that
they had hoped for. It is generally acknowledged that this continued political stalemate
contributed towards the gradual undermining of the more mainstream Akali leaders and
growth in the credibility of more militant sections85 who not only endorsed the use of
of powers between the centre and state, whereby the former’s jurisdiction would be restricted to
foreign policy, defence, communications, currency etc.; second, for all states of federal India to
be equally weighted; and third, for the Union Territory of Chandigarh, and the Punjabi-speaking
areas ‘deliberately left out’ of the post-1966 suba, to be transferred to Punjab. The demand
relating to reduce by comparison, or simply halt, the diversion of water from Punjab’s rivers
(Ravi-Beas) to ‘non-riparian’ states was a relatively late entry onto the Anandpur Sahib
Resolution.
84
The lack of support for the resolution among the Hindu Punjabis was only one of
many likely reasons for its non-implementation.
85
Sant Bhindranwale used such opportunities to ridicule the Akalis for their insistence
on using peaceful methods of protest, ‘[w]ell, if you go with a begging bowl what do you
expect? Unless you stand up to this Government you’ll get nothing’ (quoted in Aurora 1984:
91).
82
violence but also tended to view the Hindu Punjabis as a mere extension of the ‘Indian
state enemy’ (Brass 1991: 194, Gopal Singh 1994: 82).
That the tide of Sikh anger was turning increasingly against the Hindu Punjabis
was evident after September 1983 when ‘an indiscriminate killing of Hindus’ began across
the state (Kapur 1986: 227). A particularly gruesome incident took place on the night of 5-6
October in which Sikh terrorists halted a Delhi-bound bus passing through Kapurthala
district, ordered off its passengers, separated the Sikh passengers from the Hindu ones, and
shot dead the latter in cold blood (Pritam Singh 2008: 40, Jeffrey 1986: 46). The bustragedy proved to be terminal for the Congress (I) administration in Punjab with CM
Darbara Singh tendering his resignation, followed by, on 10 October 1983, the centre
imposing President’s Rule.86 The enforcement of President’s Rule, however, failed to curb
the growth of militancy across Punjab. Moreover, the heightened militant influence
contributed towards the hardening of pre-existing Sikh political demands, whereby the
Anandpur Sahib Resolution was now viewed as a ‘minimalist demand’, and that nothing
but its full-implementation could avert further violence or the realisation of Khalistan.87 By
the end of 1983, Bhindranwale took up residence at the sacred Akal Takht, situated within
the Golden Temple complex, which arguably spoke volumes about his popularity among
the Sikhs at the time. This also seemed to suggest that attempts by commentators to neatly
separate the agitators between ‘moderates’ and ‘extremists’ were at best extremely crude,88
since it was clear that Bhindranwale could not have inhabited the Akal Takht ‘without the
tactic consent of the SGPC’ and its then chief, Gurcharan Singh Tohra (Major 1987,
Grewal 2005: 316). Over the next few months, with militant violence continuing unabated
In reaction to the proclamation of President’s Rule in Punjab, Bhindranwale was
reported to have told his audiences: ‘Six Hindus are killed and the Government falls. Two
hundred Sikhs have been gunned down by the police and nothing has been done. This shows
that to the Government, Hindu lives are more important than Sikh lives’ (quoted in Talveen
Singh 1984: 41).
87
Bibi Amarjit Kaur remarked that, ‘if the centre wants peace in the Punjab they must
fulfil the demands in the Anandpur Sahib Resolution…if the centre does not agree to this then
there will be Khalistan’ (quoted in Talveen Singh 1984: 44).
88
Telling of his objection to the centre’s decision to lift President’s Rule in Punjab
1985, Gill writes: ‘I was convinced that there was no real difference between the fundamental
thinking of the Akalis and the terrorists—and that the Akalis completely lacked the desire and
the will to contain terrorism’ (2001: 31).
86
83
across Punjab, many within high government and media circles publically endorsed the
view that Bhindranwale was not only the lead-militant of the agitation but that he had been
directing (or at least inspiring) acts of terrorism across the state (Kaur 1984: 17, Grewal
2005: 326), and, as such, that a firm response from the centre was needed to protect the
lives and property of the Hindu Punjabis.
On 2 June 1984, in light of another Akali planned roko (this time to block wheat
stocks from leaving the state), the centre resorted to quite drastic measures, by sealing off
Punjab from the rest of India through the construction of an armed perimeter along its
border and ordering a virtual media blackout within the state (Malik 1985: 44). During the
next few days the Indian Armed Forces raided over forty gurdwaras across Punjab
suspected of harbouring terrorists and/or being used to store weapons for their use. Of the
many gurdwaras raided, included the sanctum-sanctorum of the Sikhs, the Golden Temple,
in what was codenamed Operation Blue Star on 3-6 June 1984. The assault on the Golden
Temple ended with the surrender of the senior Akali leaders, the death of 493
civilians89/militants (including prominent armed rebels such as Bhindranwale,90 General
Shabeg Singh and Bhai Amrik Singh), and the death of 83 members of the Indian Armed
Forces (White Paper 1984: 169). It is fair to say that this action drew widespread revulsion
from the Sikh community, many of whom simply ceased to consider themselves Indian any
longer. The fact that four out of the six generals in charge of Operation Blue Star were
Sikhs ‘did little to assuage [their] deep sense of humiliation and anger’ (Hardgrave 1985:
133). Immediately after Blue Star, the Indian Armed Forces conducted, through Operation
Woodrose, what was essentially a tidying up exercise to catch absconding militants thought
to be hiding out across rural Punjab. Many impartial scholars agree that numerous
innocent Sikh youngsters were brutally terrorised during this operation, prompting many to
flee across the border into Pakistan for safe-haven only to return back to India as trained,
89
Many Sikhs believe the number civilian deaths to have been far higher than the
official figure cited.
90
Certain conspiracy theorists across Punjab have claimed that Bhindranwale did not
die at all, but escaped during the raid in an armed vehicle from the back of the Akal Takht and
that ‘his’ recovered corpse was actually that of a body-double.
84
ideological indoctrinated, Khalistani militants (Gupta et al. 1988: 1678, Deol 2000: 108,
Prakash 2008: 537).
In late 1984, ghastly anti-Sikh pogroms broke out across parts of northern India,
though particularly concentrated in the national capital of New Delhi, over a three-day
stretch (1-3 November) in response to the news that PM Indira Gandhi had been
assassinated by her two Sikh bodyguards (Kapur 1986: 236). The pogroms resulted in 2,217
dead, of whom 2,147 were in New Delhi, and prompted many to draw parallels with the
partition violence of 1946-1948 (Mathew 1985). The pogroms, along with Operation Blue
Star and Woodrose, were three cataclysmic events for the Sikh community in 1984, which
undoubtedly contributed towards a sense of isolation from their fellow Hindu countrymen
and the Indian state like never before—and no doubt the memory of which acted as, and
still remains, a major stimulus for the manufacture of pro-Khalistani sentiment (Gopal
Singh 1994: 90).
Rajiv Gandhi, nominated as successor to the Prime Ministership following his
mother’s assassination, affirmed his position through democratic mandate following
Congress (I)’s emphatic victory in the general election of December 1984. A short-while
into his tenure it appeared as though achieving a lasting political solution to the Punjab
problem was high on his agenda. On 11 March 1984, Rajiv Gandhi ordered the release of
the Akali leaders who had been imprisoned since Operation Blue Star, including Sant
Longowal (Malik 1985: 58). As a result, Rajiv Gandhi and Sant Longowal were able to
thrash out a settlement that dealt with all the major provisions of the Anandpur Sahib
Resolution.91 However the Rajiv-Longowal Accord, as it became known, failed to be
implemented as agreed largely because it failed to receive the backing of the other Akali
factions—with Parkash Singh Badal, one of the foremost Akali politicians in Punjab during
the agitation, branding it a ‘sell-out’ (Pritam Singh 2008: 47). In fact, some have since
91
This included; first, agreeing to, and setting a date for the, transfer Chandigarh to
Punjab providing that certain Hindi-speaking areas within Punjab went to Haryana as a
compensation; second, the setting up of the Sarkaria Commission to look into revising centrestate relations; and third, agreeing not to reduce Punjab’s water allotment beneath what it was
using as of 1 July 1985.
85
indicated that it failed to materialise because Congress (I) felt it could suffer electorally
elsewhere in India (particularly in the ‘Hindi-heartland’) on the grounds of the Accord
being interpreted as minority appeasement (Gurharpal Singh 1993: 94, Gupta et al. 1988:
1678).
On 17 August 1985, Rajiv Gandhi announced that state elections would take place
in Punjab (thus spelling the end for President’s Rule in the state). Despite calls by militants
for a boycott, and the tragic assassination of Sant Longowal, the elections took place
successfully with a rather impressive turnout of 67.58 per cent of the eligible electorate and
resulted in an outright victory for SAD (L) headed by the newly appointed Surjit Singh
Barnala (Kapur 1986: 245, Wallace 1986: 372).92 The optimism that many Punjabis had for
the incoming Barnala administration quickly faded after it became apparent it could not
contain the spread of militancy, with the failure of the Congress (I) centre to transfer
Chandigarh to Punjab, and deliver upon the provisions of the Accord in general, arguably
undermining their capacity to do so (Telford 1992: 985, Gurharpal Singh 1993: 93-94). On
26 January 1986, the date that was supposed to have coincided with the transfer of
Chandigarh to Punjab, a huge congregation of defiant Sikhs assembled at the Golden
Temple which, apart from installing a new pro-militant jathedar, announced the formation
of a Five-Member Panthic Committee to oversee the creation of Khalistan (Pritam Singh
2008: 50). The Panthic Committee included Wassan Singh Zaffarwal’s Khalistan
Commando Force (KCF)—a body which went on to play a huge role in the pro-Khalistani
militancy over the following few years (Pettigrew 1995). Once again, from the premises of
the Golden Temple, the stance in favour of secession was reiterated through the
‘Declaration of Khalistan’ on 29 April 1986. As it turned out, this declaration actually
provided the government with the pretext to launch Operation Black Thunder I on the
following day, which involved troops from the National Security Guard (NSG) and Border
Security Force (BSF) storming the Golden Temple to rid it of militants. Though the temple
92
Despite winning the majority of seats in the PLA for the first time in their history (73
out of 117), the Akalis only polled marginally more than the Congress, 38.6 per cent of the vote
percentage for the former in comparison to 37.9 per cent for the latter (Malik 1986: 359,
Wallace 1986: 374).
86
itself escaped significant damage on this occasion, the raid itself turned out to be a strategic
disaster with the then Director-General of Police (DGP) in Punjab, Julio Ribeiro,
conceding that, apart from capturing a few small-time militants, ‘no one of note was
caught’ (quoted in India Today 1986). Moreover, the fact that Barnala had signed and
approved the raid severely undermined his credibility among the Sikh masses who were on
the whole, at this stage anyway, quite sympathetic towards the militants (Rudra 2005: 47).
In May 1987, the new DGP of Punjab KPS Gill, who had taken over the reins from
Julio Ribeiro, conducted yet another raid on the Golden Temple: Operation Black Thunder
II. This operation, done ‘under the fullest glare of the media’, was a resounding success for
Gill resulting in the militants’ ‘meek surrender’ which did much to damage their prestige
and boosted the morale of the Punjab Police who had, unlike in Black Thunder I, played a
frontline role in the raid (Prakash 2008: 540, Gupta et al. 1988: 1678). Nevertheless, despite
this notable success, the position of Barnala remained untenable. On 11 June 1987,
following his twenty-month long tenure in which over a thousand people had been killed in
Punjab as a result of the insurgency, President’s Rule was re-imposed. Over the next few
years militancy continued to rise relentlessly (see Figure 3), a situation worsened by the
release of Sikh prisoners suspected of, or charged with, terrorist involvement, the so-called
‘Jodhpur detenus’, on 4 March 1988 and the continued arrival of many well-equipped
terrorists flooding back from Pakistan (Prakash 2008: 540).
It should be noted that the role of militant influence in Punjab extended beyond its
obvious contribution towards increased levels of violence, and instead into civil matters as
demonstrated through the creation of several Khalsa Panchayats which often attempted to
resolve small level village disputes (Deol 2000: 114). It was said in early 1991, during the
peak months of the movement, that ‘in parts of rural Punjab, particularly along the border,
the militants no longer run a parallel government. They run the government!’ (India Today
1991). Contrary to the typical New Delhi line, many militants exerted an incredibly
positive role in Punjab society by helping to tackle societal ills such as alcoholism and drugaddiction. But the moral high ground that the militants seemed to hold, at least in
87
comparison to the Indian security forces, faded significantly in the latter years of the
movement, with many resorting to extorting money from innocent civilians, indiscriminate
(as opposed to targeted) killings, rape93 and forcible marriages (Jain 1995: 195, Puri et al.
1999: 10). Quite a few Khalistanis have maintained that such unscrupulous characters were
essentially government agents or ‘black cats’ that had infiltrated their cells in order to
undermine their movement. Potomac-based Dr Paramjit Singh Ajrawat (President of AntiDefamation Sikh Council for Freedom of Khalistan), said that in the immediate aftermath
of the operation,
[t]he Indian government introduced criminals and terrorists, disguised as Sikhs with
flowing beards, among the Sikh populace, who then killed innocent people,
extorted money from innocent people, and fuelled heinous acts of terrorism to
muffle the voices of freedom and righteousness.94
While such infiltration undoubtedly took place, it would be imprudent to assume that it
accounted for anywhere near all the corrupt actions of the militants.
Decline (1991-1993)
In the end, it was a probably combination of the visible moral bankruptcy of many
secessionist militants,95 intra-militant rivalry,96 right-minded Punjabis turning their backs on
the violence97and the brutal ‘state-terrorism’ of Gill’s Punjab Police,98 which ultimately
93
Not everyone associated with the Khalistan movement agreed that girls were raped by
militants. Amrit Singh, a former Khalistani militant and All-India Sikh Students Federation
(AISSF) member, suggested that: ‘During my illegal detention [by the Punjab Police] on one
occasion, I found that some girls who voluntarily had sexual relations with the militants were
forced by the police to narrate baseless stories of rape. The so-called rape victims are speaking
the police language…For them the militants were heroes. During those days most of them fell in
love with the militants, which resulted in pregnancies or marriages. Now when militancy has
declined, they have no option except to make up stories to save themselves from the policewrath’ (quoted in Gurpreet Singh 1996: 25).
94
Interview with Dr Paramjit Singh Ajrawat. [E-mail Interview], 30 October 2010.
95
Telford 1992: 986.
96
Rudra 2005: 131.
97
Narayanan 1996: 44, Interview with Kuldip Nayar. Delhi, 29 August 2010.
98
According to Gill himself on this very issue: ‘A group of “interested” politicians and
activists, whose role during the period of the ascendancy of terror was more than ambiguous,
88
contributed towards the demise of the Khalistan movement. Following the near
consecutive rises in the annual militancy related death-tolls from 1985 to 1991 (the
exception being between 1988 to 1989 when the number dropped from 2,432 to 2,072),
there was a drop from 1991 to 1992 when the number fell from 5,265 to 3,883, and then a
huge drop in 1993 when the figure fell to 871 (see Figure 3). On 25 February 1992
President’s Rule was lifted for the last time and the PLA elections, boycotted by practically
all SAD factions and with a turnout of just only 24.3 per cent of the electorate, resulted in
an unsurprisingly huge victory for the Congress who won 87 out of the 117 seats available
(Gurharpal Singh 1992: 994). Since 1993 there have only been sporadic cases of ‘Khalistani
militancy’—including most notably the assassination of CM Beant Singh in August 1995.
Though support for the Khalistan concept has not disappeared completely, it, along with
the Anandpur Sahib Resolution and Rajiv-Longowal Accord are essentially spent issues in
mainstream Punjabi politics. In a sombre assessment of the over decade-long insurgency in
Punjab, Tarlochan Singh (Retired Statesman and Member of Rajya Sabha) remarks:
There were many policemen and those in the armed forces that lost their lives in
relation to the militancy, but for the government, in reality, they lost nothing by
their actions…the loss was entirely ours [the Sikhs], we lost our youth, we had an entire
generation wiped out…but those that took to arms were not helping the Sikhs…the
only thing that did was to create suspicion in the minds of the rest of India…to the
point that even today people have doubts about Sikh loyalties to India…This is very
unfortunate [emphasis added].99
are now vigorously projecting, and seeking to popularise, a myth that terrorism was defeated in
Punjab, not by police action, not by the force of arms, but because it simply “lost popular
support”’ (1997: 10).
99
Interview with Tarlochan Singh. Delhi, 19 August 2010.
89
Figure 3 Annual Fatalities in Terrorist Related Violence in Punjab
Source: South Asia Terrorism Portal (SATP) 2001
90
Case-Specific Research Questions
As discussed above, in order to enable for H1 to be successfully tested, a case-specific
hypothesis needed to be constructed (H2). However to test H2 requires for this study to
comprehensively answer the following five research questions:

RQ-1: Does a Sikh refugee ‘collective memory’ of partition exist?

RQ-2: Is there evidence to suggest that aspects of the Sikh refugee collective
memory of partition have diffused into the consciousness of their non-refugee
ethnic kin and post-event offspring?

RQ-3: Has the shape and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh
collective memory been subject to change according to context?

RQ-4: Is there evidence to suggest that this sub-group has re-territorialized its
persecuted identity, and, if so, have the forms of expression deployed changed with
context?

RQ-5: Did areas of Punjab holding the highest rates of Sikh refugee population
concentration correspond with higher rates of Khalistani militancy?
VI. The Organisation of the Study
Chapter 2 (The Khalistan Movement and Factors Associated with its Rise) details explanatory
factors advanced by the wider literature on the Khalistan movement. It critically engages
with these factors in order to assess their relative strengths as well as to identify whether
there is scope for this study’s ‘refugee arrival’ hypothesis to be applied here. Chapter 3
(Sikh History as an Ideological Basis for Khalistan) provides the historical grounding for the
main argument. This chapter highlights the importance of history prior to 1947 in
explaining this case of ethno-national conflict. Specifically, it demonstrates how Khalistanis
have tended to interpret Sikh history prior to 1947 so as to justify and promote Punjab’s
secession (or independence) from India. Following this discussion, Chapter 4 (Methodology)
provides a set of guidelines that, through the lens of the theoretical framework, will be used
to answer the five research questions (four qualitative ones: RQ-1 to RQ-4; and one
91
quantitative: RQ-5). Chapter 5 (The Role of Sikh Refugees in the Rise of the Khalistan
Movement) addresses each of these research questions. Chapter 6 (Conclusion) concludes
this thesis by evaluating whether the answers provided for with respect to the five research
questions in Chapter 5 constitute persuasive support for the hypotheses. It will also
consider the ways in which this thesis contributes toward the associated literature, outline
its policy implications, and identify avenues for further enquiry.
92
Chapter 2: Khalistan Movement and Factors Associated
with its Rise
Introduction
Given its sheer magnitude, in terms of the number of people affected, and its associated
paradoxes, such as how the Sikhs could go so quickly from being seen as among the most
ardent defenders of the Indian nation-state to being lead conspirators in her further
dismemberment, it is unsurprising that the Khalistan movement has managed to attract a
huge amount of scholarly interest. This chapter discusses the various factors that have been
advanced in the literature seeking to explain the rise of the Khalistan movement. From
what can be discerned, it appears that there are nine explanatory factors prominent enough
to warrant their own categorisation. These include the following; Section I, a Sikh identity
crisis; Section II, centre-state tensions; Section III, economic issues; Section IV, Operation
Blue Star; Section V, anti-Sikh pogroms; Section VI, state-terrorism; Section VII, role of
the media; Section VIII, Sikh diaspora; and finally, Section IX, a foreign hand.1
I. Identity Crisis
Many scholars in the relevant literature (e.g. Hardgrave 1983, Bombwall 1986, Sahadevan
2002, Chanda 2005), have either explicitly stated or implied that the rise of antiHindu/anti-Indian Sikh militancy, and pro-Khalistani sentiment/actions in general, can be
understood, in large part, as products of an identity crisis among the Sikh populace. At the
heart of this argument is that many such Sikhs feared that their unique religious identity
was being, or potentially could be, engulfed by the wider Hindu mass or eliminated
1
There are a few supplementary points that need to be noted regarding these nine
explanatory factors; first, there exists a measure of cross-over between them; second, it must be
acknowledged that while many of these are underlying structural factors, others are actually
more event-related; and third, though all are important in their own right, this does not
necessarily purport that they are necessarily of equal explanatory value.
93
altogether.2 In fact, it has not been uncommon for Khalistanis to articulate such fears of
absorption/elimination by tending to criticise the supposed homogenising tendencies of the
Hindus, by suggesting ‘Brahminism does not recognise any other religious thought in the
land of South Asia’3 or with Jagjit Singh Chauhan, founder of the National Council of
Khalistan, saying,
[l]ook at Buddhism, it flourishes in China, Japan and Tibet but where is it in India?
Nowhere, because the Hindu Brahmin will not let it exist. In the same way they
want to destroy Sikhism, it is too progressive a religion for them, too
revolutionary—Five hundred years ago Guru Nanak said there should be no castes
because all men are equal, has the Brahmin accepted this even today? (quoted in
Sahota and Sahota 1993: 119).
Whether or not there were any sensible grounds for Sikhs to hold such fears is of course
debatable, yet even if the Sikhs were losing their unique religious identity it remains a point
of contention as to whether this was owed to a grand Hindu conspiracy to eliminate their
faith or due to less sinister reasons. Tarlochan Singh argues that the apparent proportional
decrease in Keshdhari Sikh numbers is not something that can be blamed on the Hindus:
We have lived with the Hindus since our religion was founded, and our identity
had remained strong till recently, so it is not upon interaction with Hindus that we
are losing our identity…this problem [non-observance of Khalsa tenants] in fact
started ever since Sikhs started going abroad.4
Whereas Paramjit Singh Sarna, the then head of the Delhi Sikh Gurdwara Management
Committee (DSGMC), pinned the blame both on ‘radical Hindus’ and opportunistic Sikh
leaders:
This is in large part because many Hindus have historically viewed Sikhs as a ‘sword
arm of Hinduism’ (Gupta 2005: 83, 92).
3
Interview with Manmohan Singh Khalsa (Vice-President of Dal Khalsa UK). London,
11 November 2010.
4
2
94
The RSS want the Sikh religion to merge with the Hindus, this is their plan…Listen
we understand very well, that they [the communal Hindus] will only grant us
respect if we fall in line…they don’t like this shape [pointing to his beard and
turban] but the Sikhs identity has diluted not just because of the RSS, but also
because the Sikh leadership who have ambitions to come into power will say what
they have to say and do want they have to do to secure their own selfish ends.5
Regardless of whether the unique Sikh identity was actually eroding away or not, it is
undeniable that such a perception existed. This anxiety rested primarily on the rather thin
and imprecise divisions between Hindus and Sikhs, with many contending that for long
periods only superficial differences separated them (Kapur 1986: xii-xiii). This adds
sustenance to Michael Ignatieff’s argument that identities which are too proximate in kind
are prone to conflict as means of asserting group difference (1999: 51). Although it can be
argued that a separate Sikh religious identity had crystallised itself between the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries,6 there is no doubt that many common traits
between the Hindus and Sikhs continued to remain, such as paying reverence to each
other’s cultural/religious sites, intermarriage along caste-lines7 or for certain Hindu
families, principally Khatris, to bring up their eldest son as a Sikh.8 However none of these
traits necessarily grew more prevalent in the period immediately prior to, or during, the
Khalistan movement—if anything they became less so. Therefore it is difficult to see how
any of these traits might have contributed towards Sikh fears of lapsing (or relapsing) into
Hinduism. Rather there were three major reasons for explaining the Sikh identity crisis
5
Interview with Paramjit Singh Sarna. Delhi, 21 August 2010.
It is alleged that early colonial policy and the introduction of censuses helped foster a
separate Sikh identity (Fox 1987: 10, Judge 2005: 78). As did the pamphlet put forward by Bhai
Kahn Singh in 1898 ‘Hum Hindu Nahin’, and the passing of the Sikh Gurdwara and Shrine Act
on 8 July 1925 (Kapur 1986: 19, 194).
7
Considering that this thesis has suggested that endogamy not only helps keep the
ethno-national identity intact, but forms the very basis of the separate identity claim itself ( see
Chapter 1: 24, 30), the non-adherence thereof in the Sikh case certainly undermines the
‘distinctiveness’ of their ethno-national identity from that of the wider Hindu populace.
8
In demonstration of this point, Hindu Khatri scholar Prakash Tandon recalls his own
family history, ‘[w]e and the Sikhs had the same castes and customs, and they were always
members of our brotherhood-biradaris. In the villages we lived together and celebrated the
same festivals...After all, we and the Sikhs stemmed from the same stock; most Hindus had Sikh
relations, and inter-marriage was common. In our own family my elder brother married a girl
who was a Sikh on her father’s side, but a Hindu on her mother’s’ (1961: 10-11).
6
95
during this period. The first of these relate to the growing non-adherence to the 5K’s,9 the
external symbols of their group identity (Brass 1979, 1991). This is particularly important if
you take the line that ‘there is no such thing…as a clean shaven Sikh—he is simply a Hindu
believing in Sikhism’ (Khushwant Singh 1966: 303). The second reason for the identity
crisis was the persistent constitutional ambiguity over the status of the Sikhs. Finally, the
third reason for the Sikh identity crisis was the perception that the role of the Punjabi
language was diminishing in favour of the ‘alien’ Hindi,10 similar to the sentiment felt by
the Sindhis in Pakistan with respect to Urdu (see Chapter 1: 42-43).
As far as evidence for the existence of a Sikh identity crisis in the period of the
Khalistan movement is concerned, and hence scrutinising the validity of the conclusions
drawn by Hardgrave and others, it is useful to draw attention to the statements, demands
and actions of Sikh politico-religious persons and/or groups. Even Sant Bhindranwale,
universally admired by contemporary Khalistanis (and also highly respected by a number
of non-Khalistani Sikhs), was frank enough to concede that the Sikhs were experiencing a
loss of identity:
We are religiously separate. But why do we have to emphasize this? It is only
because we are losing our identity and the interest of our Sikh leaders who have
their farms and their industries at heart have started making them say that there is
The 5K’s include kesa, kangha, kara, kirpan, kacch—as established by Guru Gobind
Singh on Baisaki April 1699 at Anandpur Sahib. It is worth noting that Khalsa numbers have
historically been a good indicator at determining the relative power status of the Sikhs i.e.
Khalsa numbers escalated during the reign of Maharajah Ranjit Singh but then dwindled during
the initial years after the British annexation of Punjab. Writing in 1853, Sir Richard Temple
remarked that: ‘The Sikhs of Nanak, a comparatively small body of peaceful habit and old
family will perhaps cling to the faith of [their] fathers, but the Sikhs of Govind, who are of more
recent origin, who are more specially styled Singhs or “Lions”, and who embrace the faiths as
being the religion of warfare and conquest, no longer regard the Khalsa now that the prestige
has departed from it. These men joined in thousands, and they now depart in equal numbers’
(quoted in Kapur 1986: 8).
10
Though Punjabi is spoken by all of the religious groups in the region, rightly or
wrongly, many Sikhs regard themselves as true custodians of this language. Not only is their
religious text, the Sri Guru Granth Sahib, written in an older variant of Punjabi but, owing to
Muslim support of Pakistan prior to partition and many Hindu Punjabis recording ‘Hindi’ as
their mother tongue on the censuses of 1951 and 1961, many Sikhs feel they are the only
community not to have ‘sold out’ on their Punjabi identity.
9
96
no difference between Sikh and Hindu and hence assimilation dangers have
increased (quoted in Pettigrew 1987: 14-15).
Sant Bhindranwale was particularly critical of those Sikhs who were trimming their beards
and accused such members of his faith of ‘ruining Sikhism’ (Pettigrew 1987: 15). Of course
while such comments may have been met with public approval by members of his
audience, it was difficult for such Sikhs to, in their private realm, become overly zealous on
such matters, particularly when many were themselves guilty of trimming their beards or
had family members that were perhaps clean shaven altogether. As the highly decorated
journalist Kuldip Nayar remarked, ‘what can they do when it’s happening in their own
homes?’11
Consider this statement by Bhindranwale: ‘when they [the Hindus] say the Sikhs
are not separate we’ll demand separate identity even if it means sacrifice’ (Pettigrew 1987:
15). This not only suggests that Hindus were responsible for denying the Sikhs a separate
identity but also the word ‘sacrifice’, though it may have been intended to connote purely
peaceful or political methods, had the potential to be construed as an open endorsement of
violence against those who held the view that the Sikhs were part of the Hindu fold.
Moving away from Bhindranwale, even some of the Akali demands arguably
constituted evidence of the Sikhs’ identity crisis. The foremost being the
scrapping/amendment of Article 25 (2) (b) of the Indian constitution which, in its subclause, declares that ‘Hindus shall be construed as including a reference to persons
professing the Sikh, Jaina or Buddhist religion, and the reference to Hindu religious
institutions shall be construed accordingly’ (Constitution of India [1949]). Ranjit Singh Srai,
General Secretary of the Council of Khalistan, suggested that ‘the idea of clubbing [the
Sikhs], officially in the constitution, and deeming them to be Hindus is just offensiveness
for the sake of being offensive’.12 Needless to say, the SAD were so perturbed by this subclause, which failed to clearly distinguish Sikhs as separate from the Hindus, that on 27
11
12
Interview with Kuldip Nayar. Delhi, 29 August 2010.
Interview with Ranjit Singh Srai. [Phone Interview], 29 May 2011.
97
February 1984 senior ‘Akali leaders carried out their decision to burn the pages of the
constitution of India which contained Article 25 (2) (b)’ (Pritam Singh 2008: 41).
Undeniably had such a perceived threat of absorption into Hinduism not already been
deeply entrenched in the Sikh psyche, this article would not have become an issue to the
extent that it did and remains. While many constitutional legislators argued that the word
‘Hindu’ held a different connotation in the constitution than its modern conception, many
Sikhs deemed it to be yet more evidence that the ‘Hinduized’ Indian state were intent upon
obliterating their unique religious identity. Aside from Article 25 (2) (b), the SAD protested
fiercely against the banning of kirpans on domestic flights which followed the September
1981 plane hijacking. Understandably this was deemed to be an infringement of Sikh
religious freedom, leading to the successful compromise with the Indian government on
February 1983 which permitted kirpans on planes providing they did not exceed, inclusive
of the handle, nine inches in length (White Paper 1984: 10). Of course such compromises
did not satisfy all, with any such governmental incursions over Sikh religious symbols
adding to the growing anti-Hindu/anti-India sentiment.13
During the period between 1985 and 1991, when Khalistani influence over Punjab
was at its uttermost, there is evidence to suggest that the pro-secessionist stance of certain
Sikhs was driven in large part by concerns over the future of Punjabi as a language.14 In a
set of directives issued by the Five-Member Panthic Committee, it was declared that ‘the
Brahmin had succeeded in creating an inferiority complex in the hearts of Punjabis about
their language’ and that ‘all sign boards…within the territory of Khalistan, shall be painted
first in Punjabi and second in English. Hindi shall not be used at all’ (quoted in Gopal
Singh 1994: 106-107). Evidently, this purging or proposed purging of Hindu cultural
For example Bhindranwale remarked: ‘Has anyone ever said that a jenoi cannot be
more than a particular length. Then why is there as restriction on our religious symbol? Is this
not discrimination?’ (quoted in Talveen Singh 1984: 31).
14
Many claimed Punjabi to be an exclusively Sikh language, with one Khalistani,
Harpal Singh, remarking that: ‘Hindus have no tie to the Punjabi language. They say Hindi is
their mother tongue on the census’ (quoted in Mahmood 1996: 126). Whether this is because
Khalistanis genuinely believe this or adhere to such a line to make the case for unique ethnonational identity more plausible is a matter of debate.
13
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edifices appears to undermine Gopal Singh’s view that ‘national consciousness cannot be
regarded as an extended form of ethnic consciousness’ (1994: 168).
Apart from highlighting and artificially extending Sikh-Hindu divisions, it was
deemed necessary by those wishing to preserve and/or extend a separate identity to ‘purify’
themselves internally. This process was by no means painless: it involved
excommunicating,15 or even targeted killings of individuals or groups, such as the Sant
Nirankaris, who, according to Bhindranwale, ‘profess Sikhism yet do not behave as Sikhs’
(quoted in Pettigrew 1987: 15). In order to explain why such ‘purification’ was deemed
necessary and why this process at times spilled over into violence, it must be appreciated
that since heretics, unlike apostates, uphold the ‘group’s central values and goals’ they
‘threaten to split the group into factions’ (Coser 1956: 70). It is probably unsurprising,
therefore, that many orthodox Sikhs regarded the Sant Nirankaris ‘as yet another element
in the “Hindu conspiracy” to destroy the separate identity of Sikhism and thereby prevent
the emergence of a true Khalsa Raj’ (Akbar 1985: 193).
Overall, it appears that the Sikh identity crisis, as demonstrated by the associated
literature and primary evidence cited above, was apparent in the period prior and during
the separatist insurgency and undoubtedly holds a reasonable degree of weight as an
explanatory factor. However, few scholars would dare suggest that such an identity crisis
could alone explain the rise of the Khalistan movement. Furthermore it should be noted
that Sikhs were by no means unique in experiencing a generational dilution in the
religiosity of its populace. It is probably owed only to the ‘visible’ nature of a male
Keshdhari Sikh which makes their loss of identity appear more pronounced and easier to
measure.
II. Centre-State Tensions
Arguably the most prevalent set of explanations associated with the rise of the Khalistan
movement have been those which fall within, what this thesis terms, centre-state tensions,
15
This was done by ordering hukumnamas from the Akal Takht.
99
operating between New Delhi and Chandigarh, or, perhaps more precisely, Congress (I)
and ‘Sikh’ Punjab. Since this category, encompassing a range of perspectives, can be
described as extremely wide-ranging, it has been separated into three sub-categories: first,
over-centralisation of power from New Delhi; second, the policies/behaviour of the
Congress (I); and third, the policies/behaviour of the SAD.
Over-Centralisation
The first sub-category of arguments in the centre-state tensions section concerns those
relating to the over-centralisation of power. There are many scholars who have argued that
there was an unhealthy distribution of power between New Delhi and Chandigarh in
favour of the former. According to Joyce Pettigrew, ‘Punjab’s problems…occurred, not
because of its richness, but because control over irrigation and power, and all aspects of
development, was in New Delhi rather than in Chandigarh’ (1987: 20). Such opinion is of
course not without foundation, since despite being officially federal in character, the
jurisdiction of the centre within the Indian state was indeed vast and spanned over realms
typically reserved for provincial units in most other federations (see Chapter 1: 33-34). Even
Parkash Singh Badal told journalist Madhav Kamath that what he and his party really
wanted was a ‘re-casting of centre-state financial relations’ (1984: 138).
However there does appear to be one glaring counterpoise to the above view, which
is that the Indian state had been heavily centralised almost since its inception, and
remained so, hence prompting the question of why the secessionist movement, if its rise
was a reaction to over-centralisation, did not erupt earlier than it did? With respect to the
proponents of the over-centralisation thesis, there could be a number of reasons as to why
their argument remains valid. The first reason is that, up until 1964, free India had been led
by the ‘father of the nation’, PM Jawaharlal Nehru, who acted as both a unifying and
domineering figure. Hence, during his tenure, many ideological and political opponents
were marginalised or at least temporarily offset. The second reason as to why the overcentralisation thesis may remain valid is that prior to late 1966 (i.e. before the creation of
100
the Punjabi suba) the Bhakra Dam and the city of Chandigarh were a part of Punjab
territory; however, after the reorganisation the dam was brought under central rule and
Chandigarh made into a Union-Territory (Leaf 1985: 488). Thus, it could be argued that
the centre’s jurisdiction actually increased vis-à-vis Punjab (Kohli 1998). The third reason
being that Punjab’s impressive economic growth in light of the ‘Green Revolution’ made
ordinary Punjabis, especially those engaged in agriculture (who were incidentally mainly
Sikh), increasingly conscious of the need to protect ‘their’ state’s economic and natural
resources (Kapur 1986: 223)—sparking grievances that Punjab was essentially a net
contributor to a redistributionist economy or that its vital river-waters were being unfairly
diverted to neighbouring ‘non-riparian’ states.16 The fourth reason in support of the overcentralisation thesis was the increasingly prevalent view among economic elites, aided
through interaction with Sikh diasporans in prosperous western countries, that Socialistleaning/Keynesian-styled economies (such as India’s) were obsolete, since the insistence
on a large centre actually promoted inefficiency, red-tape and corruption. This led to
increased Sikh dissatisfaction with the seemingly flawed Indian economic model.
Policies/Behaviour of the Congress (I)
The second sub-category, within the centre-state tensions explanation, groups relates to,
what proved to be, the self-defeating policies and behaviour of Indira Gandhi and her
confidantes within the Congress (I). The basic cusp of such arguments is that soon after
Indira Gandhi assumed control of the INC in 1966, her tenures as PM (1966-1977 and
1980-1984), and as leader of the opposition (1977-1980) were characterised by her near
dictatorial traits in which she displayed a marked intolerance towards opposition within, or
even outside, her own party.17 Apparently, Indira Gandhi and the Congress (I) embarked
Writing in quite a disparaging tone, on the issue of Punjab’s river-waters being
diverted to neighbouring states, Gurdarshan Singh Dhillon remarks: ‘The question arises why
this oppression and injustice has happened in Punjab. The answer is obvious. The majority of
the people [in Punjab] belong to a religion [Sikhism], ethnicity and culture different from that of
those governing Delhi’ (1996: 124).
17
The INC, prior to Indira Gandhi, were regarded as the ‘party of consensus’, which
maintained their political dominance by co-opting and ‘accommodating’ contravening, often
16
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upon a range of overt and covert methods for dealing with such dissent—both of which
ultimately proved conducive towards the growth of the Sikh secessionist struggle.
In terms of the overt methods deployed. The first of these included initiating a
growing ‘interlinked and interdependent’ relation between centre-state politics whereby the
autonomy of the latter virtually disappeared (Brass 1991: 172). Paul Brass provides a fine
example of this:
In September 1970…the [Bahujan Kisan Dal (BKD)] of Chaudhuri Charan Singh
failed to deliver the three votes that Mrs Gandhi needed, and expected, to pass the
Twentyfourth Constitutional Amendment Bill in the Rajya Sabha, abolishing the
privy purses of the princes. In retaliation, the Congress, which had been in a
coalition government with the BKD under Charan Singh in UP, withdrew from the
UP government and brought it down (Brass 1991: 171).
The second overt method used to tackle dissent was the labelling of oppositionists as antinational or foreign inspired, a task aided by the Congress (I)’s superior access to the media
(Leaf 1985: 493). Third, and closely linked to the previous point, was the tendency to resort
to arresting and imprisoning political opponents. Indeed, Indira’s son Sanjay became
renowned for engaging in ‘threats, smears and organized violence’ against those who dared
openly challenge his mother (Chatterjee 1998: 102). The fourth overt method consisted of
the liberal use of Article 356 of the constitution, ‘President’s Rule’, to bring down state
governments—Indira Gandhi used this power over Punjab state on six separate occasions
between 1966 and 1984.18 The fifth, and final, overt method deployed by the Congress (I) to
regionalist, political forces within its ‘umbrella’ through dispensing patronage or outright
bribery (Kothari 2002: 40, Kohli 1998, Hardgrave 1983: 1171). However under Indira Gandhi,
the dynamics of centre-state relations in India were significantly modified, if not completely
broken, from the so-called ‘Congress system’ that she had inherited. We can only speculate as
to her motives, but a principal one may have been that she deemed consensus politics to have
diluted the effectiveness of her father’s five-year plans.
18
The first time was prior to the formation of the Punjabi suba.
102
deal with opposition was through the suspension of democracy in India during the
infamous period of Emergency Rule (1975-1977).19
As far as the covert methods used to deal with opposition are concerned, the first
was to encourage factionalism within the SAD with a view to weakening them politically
(Gill and Singhal 1984: 607, Malik 1985: 36). According to Sarna,
[t]he Congress has long practiced divide and rule, which is something they learnt
from the Britishers and then carried it on when they came to power…It is their plan
to divide the minority communities…to divide the Akalis…so they can come to
power.20
In quite comical fashion, the SAD, which had been factionalised since the early 1960s, has
been rife with finger pointing and paranoid suspicion between individuals and factions,
each accusing the other of ‘being an agent of the centre’ (Gopal Singh 1994: 93).
The second covert method being that Congress (I) supposedly ‘propped up’
Bhindranwale for the purposes of either further fragmenting the Akalis or denying the
‘rightful’ political demands of the Sikhs on the grounds they were tainted by association
with extremists or secessionists (Fair 2005: 128, Rudra 2005: 3, Kapur 1986: 235). Indeed
Bhindranwale was quoted as saying: ‘It suits the Government to publicize me as an
extremist, thus making an excuse to frustrate the just cause and the legitimate demands of
the entire Sikh community and the Punjab state’ (quoted in Lalvani and Iyengar 1983: 4).
Those who hold the view that Bhindranwale was essentially a ‘Congress creation’ point to
the fact that the Sant campaigned for the party in the 1980 Lok Sabha elections and was
allowed to roam free in spite of his provocative sermons (Grewal 2005: 317). From his
diasporic perspective, Gurcharan Singh (ex-Mayor of Ealing) observes:
You have Bhindranwale, Sant Bhindranwale travelling from Bombay on a horse, in
a train, with all guns and everything with him, why was he not arrested somewhere
19
It should be noted that the SAD were among very few groups to openly challenge
Indira Gandhi during this period (Chima 1994: 853).
20
103
in Delhi or somewhere else?…I think it was a creation of the then particular
Congress party…and they created the situation and they exploited Hindu fear for
electoral purposes and Sikhs were [its] victims.21
Even Bhindranwale himself, in the wake of being protected by Congress (I) over the
murder of Lala Jagat Narain, is supposed to have said that ‘the government has done more
for me in one week…than I could have achieved in years’ (quoted in Grewal 2005: 317).
Allegedly Congress (I)’s, or more specifically Zail Singh’s, motive behind the protection of
Bhindranwale in this instance was driven by the then Home Minister’s attempts to
undermine the authority of his foe CM Darbara Singh (Brass 1991: 179).
The third, and final, covert method, surrounds Congress (I) artificially creating the
secessionist threat! Suspicions have even been raised over prominent Khalistanis, with
Ganga Singh Dhillon being labelled as ‘a known Congressite’22 and Gurbachan Singh
Manochahal, founder of Bhindranwale Tiger Force of Khalistan (BTFK), dismissed as a
‘subsidiary’ of Congressman Buta Singh (Gupta et al. 1988: 1679). Perhaps the most
commonly cited example in demonstration of the view that the Congress, in effect, gave
birth to the Sikh secessionist problem is that Zail Singh encouraged the creation of the proKhalistan group Dal Khalsa in Chandigarh on 6 August 1978 (Jeffrey 1986: 143, Kapur
1986: 191, Grewal 2005: 325, Grewal 2006: 97). However, the idea that Dal Khalsa was a
government creation was strenuously denied by Manmohan Singh Khalsa, a high-profile
exiled and founding member, suggesting that
[i]f we are Congress, then why is Gajinder Singh [founder of Dal Khalsa] 28 years
in exile?…underground…I am here [in London]…Gajinder Singh and myself, we
left home together in 1981 when the National Security Act was applied by Zail
Singh…Darbara Singh sorry…we left home, I left my child, I have not seen my
child since…even my wife didn’t know where I was going… So how these bloody
persons can say that we are created by the Congress?23
21
Interview Gurcharan Singh. London, 24 February 2011.
Interview with Aridaman Singh Dhillon. Amritsar, 14 September 2010.
23
Interview with Manmohan Singh Khalsa. London, 11 November 2010.
22
104
It is not difficult to see how the use of these overt and covert methods to deal with
opposition or indiscipline could have ignited secessionist fervour in Punjab and perhaps
regionalist tendencies elsewhere in India. Yet it must be noted that many of these methods
were deployed in the backdrop of continued non-implementation of the Anandpur Sahib
Resolution (and the Rajiv-Longowal Accord after 1985). Therefore some scholars have
suggested that it was the centre’s failure to concede to these terms which proved to be the
ultimate driving force behind Sikh secessionism (Gurharpal Singh 1996: 411-412). While
one would be inclined to agree in large part with that assessment, it should not be assumed
by implication that; 1) had the centre implemented the provisions of the resolution the
support for Khalistan would necessarily have disappeared;24 or 2) that all Congress (I)
policies/behaviour vis-à-vis the Sikhs were purely for the narrow self-serving purposes of
electoral benefit and consolidation of power. Indeed even many esteemed commentators,
such as Gurharpal Singh (1993), have simply failed to acknowledge that the centre, though
it does not always act in the national interest, has to take into account a far broader range
of interests in its decision and policy-making than what a provincial state government
typically has to—the latter of whom can often be accused of behaving like a ‘frog in a well’.
Therefore when attempting to understand why the main terms of the Anandpur Sahib
Resolution eluded enactment, it is perhaps unwise to reduce the debate to simply a result of
the narrow self-serving political ends of senior Congressman and/or an inherent anti-Sikh
stance of the centre.25
Policies/Behaviour of the SAD
The third and final subcategory in this section on centre-state tensions consists of those
scholars who have attributed the rise of the Sikh secessionist insurgency to the policies and
24
Arguably a centre which concedes ground too easily may also embolden regionalist
and separatist demands. Moreover political parties, as means of retaining profile, are in constant
need for demands in which to rally around. Therefore, as Arun Shourie suggests, ‘the moment
you satisfy a part of the demand, or even all of it, a new and more extreme one is put forth’
(1984: 437).
25
In demonstration of this point, the White Paper on the Punjab Agitation avows,
‘wherever [Akali] the demands did not involve other states or where they could be integrated
into a wider framework, there was no hesitation in accepting them’ (1984: 7).
105
behaviour of the factionalised SAD, both when in and out of power in the PLA. The main
arguments cited in demonstration of this stance include; first, the view, and in concurrence
with the ‘elite manipulation’ arguments mentioned earlier (see Chapter 1: 27-28, 38-39),
that since the SAD failed to achieve political dominance in Punjab even after 1966,26 owing
to many Sikhs not voting along communal lines, the Akalis felt compelled to communalise
politics and ‘whip up religious and nationalist issues’ in order to fracture the vote along
Hindu-Sikh lines (Kohli 1998: 22). A second argument, in support of the claim that the
policies and behaviour of the SAD were responsible for the rise of Sikh secessionism, is
that, since the Akalis believe ‘in the inseparability of religion and politics’ as per the miripiri doctrine,27 there was an inevitable clash with the ideologically ‘secular’ Indian nationstate (Gopal Singh 1994: 88, Pettigrew 1987: 4). The third argument, in sync with the
official New Delhi line, is that senior Akali representatives maintained an ambiguous
position on the issue of Sikh separatism, thereby providing ‘a respectable cover for
subversive and anti-national forces to operate in the secure knowledge that they could not
be politically disowned’ (White Paper 1984: 7). This has been explained as a direct
consequence of Akali factionalism, whereby non-ruling factions would, rather
opportunistically, engage in a more extremist or populist rhetoric to maintain visibility
(Major 1987: 47). Such duplicity of top Akalis members did not go unnoticed in Punjab,
with the highly intellectual retired civil servant Aridaman Singh Dhillon describing the
fallout from the controversial Sikh Educational Conference held by the Chief Khalsa
Diwan in March 1981:
The conference…took up the issue of Khalistan again…the media took it up…it
was flared up…However none of the Akalis spoke out, they kept mum, they never
wanted to get involved, but then again a retired police officer, Sukhjinder Singh,
whose son is now [in 2010] a Congress MLA [Member of Legislative Assembly],
26
After the creation of the Punjabi suba, Sikhs acquired a demographic majority within
the truncated state. Yet even still, prior to 1985, the SAD had failed to come to power in the
PLA without relying on a coalition partner.
27
The miri-piri doctrine is integral to the Sikh faith and dates back to the time of their
sixth Guru, Hargobind, who proclaimed that mir and pir should not be separated from one
another.
106
and he had joined the Akali Dal then…he was vacillating between Congress and
Akali Dal…he was an opportunist!...then he was the first one to declare support for
Khalistan in Punjab, now he’s a petty second-grade politician trying to take the
limelight…it forced [Gurcharan Singh] Tohra to support it…then Tohra said, ‘yes it
should be’…‘Khalistan is needed, Khalistan is needed’…Badal still did not speak,
some reporters cornered him in his village, they then pestered him to say something
about Khalistan…Now what do you think Badal could have said?...[‘Yes I am for
it’]…foolishly, rather than condemning it, rather than having the courage to say
very straightforwardly that…Ganga Singh Dhillon [was a] Congress creation and
this has been deliberately taken up in Delhi and we do not agree with it.28
Sarna, when asked if he too, like Badal, felt the Rajiv-Longowal Accord was a ‘sell-out’,
spoke at length about the deception within senior Akali ranks:
This accord has failed to materialise…the government excuse is that [the] accord
does not have the support, aside from the supporters of the Sant [Longowal], from
the leadership of the Akali Dal…mainly people like Parkash Singh Badal and
Gurcharan Singh Tohra…but the fact is that in the two weeks following the signing of the
accord, Sant Longowal enjoyed excellent support from the Sikhs…When news of
[Longowal’s] assassination came, the Akali leadership were all steeped in rivalry
and mutual distrust, all were having ambitions of becoming leader…but a
gentleman by the name of Surjit Singh Barnala, who was the Sant’s close associate,
was nominated as a successor…The problem was that, at best, he was only the
fourth most prominent leader in the party, so people like Badal and, even though he
was a close friend of mine I have to say honestly, Tohra also, both harboured
ambitions of becoming Chief Minister…They were determined to undermine
Barnala’s leadership, I know…they had relations with other forces too…At the time
when the Sant was assassinated they had an agreement over the accord…but since
Barnala became Chief Minster the dishonesty and political backtracking
started…You know there is even a picture taken the day before the assassination, of the Sant,
Badal and Tohra all joined in hands showing that there was unanimous support for the
accord…but I have to say frankly, that Badal and Tohra, they were not loyal to the
[Sikh] community, they put their own personal ambitions before that of the
community by trying to undermine the accord…They must take responsibility for
the decade of violence between 1985 and 1995, this could have avoided the loss of
28
107
thousands of lives…All for personal ambitions and financial greed, that is why the
Punjabis are not able to get Chandigarh, and why our waters are still being diverted
to other states [emphasis added].29
The fourth includes those set of arguments which explicitly suggest, or at least imply, that
certain Akalis actually provided material support to terrorist groups, e.g. the claim that
senior Akalis such as Jagdev Singh Talwandi and Sukhjinder Singh had palpable links to
the militants and openly expressed slogans in favour of Khalistan (Major 1987: 47, Sahota
and Sahota 1993: 149). Indicating direct Akali involvement in the militancy, one
disgruntled former Ropar-based militant of the Babbar Khalsa, Amar Singh, accused the
Akalis of
[giving] a ladder to a person and [asking] him to scale a wall. But once he is on top,
they remove it. They were and are opportunists who are always in need of people
like me who they can use for their personal gain. Once their purpose is solved, they
turn their backs (quoted in Gurpreet Singh 1996: 42).
While the above arguments do hold a large amount of credibility, they do need to
be scrutinised. Even if, on occasions, certain Akali leaders have attempted to communalise
politics for electoral gain, it should be appreciated that they did not have complete free
reign to do so, since involvement in mainstream politics brings with it a range of
constraints which often dilute the ‘ideological purity’ of such religious-based parties (Basu
2001). For example, the Akalis have had to keep amicable relations with the ‘Hindu
nationalist’ Jan Sangh/BJP when the latter happen to be coalition partners at the state
and/or national level, and so have had to ensure their politics does not acquire an overly
anti-Hindu or anti-Indian edge. Also there is the distinct possibility that engaging in
rhetoric deemed to be too provocative could trigger legal or criminal proceedings from the
government or offended parties, a predicament which obviously most reputable politicians
would want to steer clear from.
29
108
With regards to the miri-piri doctrine clashing with the ‘secular’ Indian nation-state,
it is imperative that one acknowledges the difference between ideological veneer and
empirical reality. It should not be forgotten that the Akalis, since independence, have
merged with the INC on two separate occasions,30 thereby effectively relinquishing their
temporal aspect. At the same time, the extent to which the Indian nation-state can be
described as secular at all is debatable (Smith 1963). In addition, it must be stressed that the
‘official’ ideological position of a party does not necessarily determine the ideological
position of its members. It is perfectly conceivable to have secular and broad-minded
members of a supposedly communalist parties such as the SAD or BJP, just as it is to have
religiously bigoted Congressmen. According to Sucha Singh Gill and KC Singhal, many
past Congress leaders have held a RSS background, just as many prominent Sikhs leaders
of the Congress were previously apart of the SAD and ‘some of them have been and some
remain blatant communal Sikhs’ (1984: 607). Therefore in reality, this apparent
irreconcilable ideological clash, between miri-piri on the one hand and secularism on the
other, is too simplistic and in truth such difference matters little in day-to-day centre-state
relations. As far as senior Akalis holding an ambiguous position on Khalistan is concerned,
or even supporting militant groups, it is hard to disagree. Though how prevalent such
Akali-militant associations happened to be remains a matter of opinion.
To summarise, it is evident that centre-state tensions played a contributory role in
the rise of the Khalistan movement in terms of New Delhi’s over-centralisation, the
policies/behaviour of the centre and the policies/behaviour of the SAD. Yet even so, it is
clear that Punjab was by no means the only state in India to oppose the extensive and often
malign governance of the centre; nor was it the case that the SAD were the only regionally
concentrated party to have played realpolitik. So clarifying why a secessionist movement,
One such occasion being in 1956, with Master Tara Singh remarking at the time, ‘[it
is] desirable that the Dal should again repose confidence in the Congress and its leaders, so far
as its political programme is concerned. It resolved that the Dal would concentrate on and
confine itself to the religious, educational, cultural, social and economic betterment of the
Sikhs’ (quoted in The Tribune 1956).
30
109
especially as violent as this one, brewed in Punjab, at the time that it did, requires a more
sophisticated explanation than what this section provides.
III. Economic Issues
Many scholars (e.g. Leaf 1985, Telford 1992, Purewal 2000) have written at length in
support of the view that the prevailing economic conditions across Punjab state precipitated
the rise of the Sikh secessionist drive for Khalistan. Though economic-based arguments in
the relevant literature are quite wide ranging, they essentially fall into two chief categories.
This first relates to the backwash effects of the ‘Green Revolution’ and the second, the
jurisdiction and policies of the central government over fiscal matters.
Backwash Effects of the Green Revolution
Though the ‘Green Revolution’, which refers to ‘the introduction of higher yielding
varieties (HYVs) of wheat and rice’, is often regarded as one of the foremost achievements
of post-colonial India, there is recognition that its associated economic benefits were not
equally felt by the agriculturalists involved (Deol 2000: 126, Telford 1992: 976). It has been
said that the chief beneficiaries tended to be those with larger landholdings, since unlike
smaller farmers, they were able to secure new inputs and the latest agricultural technology
owing to their privileged access to institutional credit, which, for them, was ‘available at
‘reasonable’ rates of interest’ (Byres 1982: 40-41). As larger landholders grew more
prosperous they typically expanded their cultivable land area by purchasing plots from
those smaller peasants who simply could not compete any longer. Such trends had
contributed towards a marked rise in landlessness across Punjab, ‘India’s breadbasket’,
with Shinder Purewal suggesting that ‘the ratio of landless workers, in the total agricultural
workforce rose from 17.3 per cent in 1961 to 32.1 per cent in 1971, and to more than 40 per
cent in 1980’ (2000: 52, Deol 2000: 127). Of course it was not landlessness in itself that
110
created discontent31 rather it was that such people had few realistic opportunities for
alternative forms of employment. Typically Jats, owing to a supposed mind-set issue
among its members,32 would seldom engage in paid agricultural work on farms owned by
others for it would be deemed beneath them. Even for those newly landless Jats that chose
to bear the stigma of participating in such work, as with those who migrated to the hitherto
Hindu-dominated urban areas for employment, increasingly found themselves in
competition with migrant labourers from places such as Uttar Pradesh (UP) and Bihar who
were willing to work at far lower rates of pay (Chima 1994: 858, Mahmood 1996: 117,
Deol 2000: 138). The net effect was that the newly landless Jats were torn between being
forced to lower their wage expectations to remain competitive, remaining unemployed or
simply leaving the state altogether. For this, their resentment was directed not so much at
their co-caste, but more prosperous, Jats but more so towards the central government and
non-Sikh migrant labourers.33 It was also this body of people who apparently made up the
bulk of those recruited into pro-Khalistani militant groups such as KCF or the AISSF
(Chima 1994: 858, Jeffrey 1994: 179, Pettigrew 1995: 56, Puri et al. 1999: 86).
Quite interestingly, it has also been contended that the ‘Green
Revolution…accelerated the emergence of mass society through urbanisation,
consumerism, mass literacy, modern communications and the disintegration of face-to-face
village communities’ (Gurharpal Singh 1993: 89). This meant that; 1) many people in the
state were on the whole more susceptible to pan-identity consciousness, such as their
Punjabiness or Sikhness, as opposed to the more proximate associations of sub-caste or
31
Though in rural Punjab the ownership of land, apart from its obvious monetary value,
typically brings with it a large measure of prestige.
32
According to Pettigrew, a typical cultural characteristic of the Jats is that ‘they [do]
not regard themselves as subordinate to any other person’ (1978: 57).
33
Added to this resentment, was the sense that the arrivals of migrants were eating
away at the slender Sikh demographic majority within Punjab state. President of the Dal Khalsa,
Harcharanjit Singh Dhami, remarked in an interview for an in-house publication that the
migrants in Punjab ‘deserve a one-way ticket to whatever state [they] came from’, as they are
not only a ‘demographic threat’ but are also ‘crippling and polluting Punjab: its tradition, its
charm and culture’ (quoted in Dal Khalsa 2008: 49). Slightly ironic, given that so many Sikhs
have, for generations, moved to destinations outside Punjab in search for economic
opportunities.
111
village;34 and 2) for those young Sikh men who were conscious of the role played by
modernity in eroding the traditional Punjabi ethos which stressed a ‘life of purity,
dedication and hard work’, meant that there was a yearning to rediscover this proud culture
(Shiva 1991: 185-186). Arguably Bhindranwale, as well as some of the other ideologically
governed militants, through their actions and insightful sermons filled that vacuum.
Jurisdiction and Fiscal Policies of the Central Government
With regards to the economic jurisdiction and policies of the centre, there are a few main
arguments that fall within this sub-category. The first of these arguments relate to the
grievances held by the prosperous Jats over the punitive land-ceilings imposed by the
central government which restricted plot sizes to just 17.50 acres (Gill and Singhal 1984:
607). In fact one of the provisions included within the Anandpur Sahib Resolution was to
increase the land-ceiling to 30 acres, which is arguably why certain scholars such as
Purewal (2000) deemed landed interests to have been behind the agitation.35 Of course
while the land-ceilings could have been interpreted by some as overly punitive and
detrimental to the competitiveness of Punjabi agriculture, the government may have
considered it prudent to discourage a further increase in the disparity of land-acreage
between the richest and poorest landholders, particularly in a country as overpopulated as
India. As it happens, many large landowners nonetheless managed to manoeuvre their way
around such restrictions by making use of certain legal loop-holes that existed in the
legislation (thereby expanding their plot holdings).
The second argument is that many Sikhs believed, in parallel with the sentiment felt
by the Slovenes in the last years of the Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia (FPRY)
(see Chapter 1: 44), that Punjab was ‘being unfairly exploited or that they [did] not receive
a fair share back for what they contribute[d] to the national economy’ (Hardgrave 1983:
34
Such localised associations often cut through Hindu-Sikh communal divisions.
Although many scholars have indicated that those who took to militancy were
typically from poor landless households this does not necessarily infer that Purewal is wrong in
his assessment. It is conceivable that while the landowning Jats helped steer the political
agitation, it was the poor segments, with their own set of motives, who manned the militant
cells.
35
112
1173). In demonstration of this point, although the centre ‘has no legal power to regulate
prices as such…it does have the power to regulate interstate commerce and transport’ and
has occasionally resorted to deploying such powers when imposing ‘food zones’ to prevent
foodstuffs from leaving the borders of the provincial state(s) in question (Leaf 1985: 486).36
In effect what this meant is that during periods when there had been massive deficits in
food stocks outside Punjab, usually after poor monsoon rainfall, owing to the imposition of
a food zone, the Punjabi farmers could not take full advantage of such situations by
charging inflated market prices. Instead, the restriction of movement artificially reduced the
direct demand for their produce meaning that the Punjabi farmers were forced to sell their
stocks at drastically lowered rates to central stockpiles who then managed its re-distribution
to deficit areas. While the government maybe acted in the national interest by imposing
such food zones at times of drought, it is clear to see how such actions might often be
interpreted as a zero-sum loss to the ‘hardworking’ Jat Sikh farmer. Clearly such grievances
have been tapped into by senior Khalistanis—according to Manmohan Singh Khalsa, ‘if we
[Punjabis] make our own wheat surely we should fix our own price? Why does the centre,
the bania, fix our price? Who are they to tell us?’37
The third argument, relating to the economic jurisdiction and policies of the centre,
is that the centre deliberately kept Punjab ‘industrially backward’ through the frequent
refusal to grant industrial licences, a policy said to have been justified on the grounds of
Punjab being a border state with an adversarial neighbour (Mohinder Singh 1984: 421,
Wallace 1986: 372). The lack of industry both curtailed employment opportunities for the
landless and investment opportunities for the landed Jats, and, as a consequence, prompted
both human and economic capital to leave the state. Seemingly perturbed by the industrial
backwardness of the state, Chauhan suggested, ‘Punjab is nothing but a colony. We
produce the raw material for India to be industrialised. We produce cotton, but the textile
factories are all in Bombay’ (quoted in Sahota and Sahota 1993: 119).
36
In 1980 the food zone applied over Punjab was far more constrictive, with farmers
unable to sell wheat outside their own district (The Tribune 1980).
37
113
The fourth argument in this regard is that the centre’s decision in 1974 to impose a
quota on recruitment into the Indian Armed Forces, and hence attain a more equitable
distribution of personnel from all parts of India, went against the interests of the so-called
‘martial races’ (which included the Sikhs).38 Admittedly, while this quota was applicable
only to the general forces,39 it curtailed yet another prospective career path for such newly
landless persons and therefore contributed towards the growing unemployment problem
across Punjab (Brass 1991: 198, Pettigrew 1987: 9). According to Dhillon:
It was the silliest idea…that the Indian army would be made representative of all
the communities of India, that only the soldiers would be recruited in the same
proportion as the population of that community…take for example the Gujaratis,
they would much rather earn money than join the army or police…similarly there
are other people who would much rather do business or other such vocations rather
than join the army…It was the character of the Punjabis, whether Sikhs or
Hindus… they only know three things, either farming, trading or soldiering...if they
don’t have an enemy to fight they will fight amongst themselves…that’s the Punjabi character
[emphasis added].40
In spite of the above arguments, many scholars have dismissed, directly or
indirectly, the Sikh economic grievances during this period on the grounds that Punjab’s
GDP per capita income41 was markedly higher than the national average (Hardgrave 1983:
1178, Sandhu 1985: 62, Kapur 1986: x, Dang 1988: 51, Brass 1991: 198, Sharma 1994: 326327).42 Nevertheless, simply because a state has a GDP per capita above the national
average, this does not necessarily denote that its economic grievances are baseless, or that it
becomes immune from a secessionist insurgency driven by such grievances. There are a few
38
Of course the Sikhs cannot be considered a race under the strict application of the
term.
In spite of the quota, the Sikhs remained, ‘still heavily represented in the Indian
armed forces far beyond their proportion in the population of the country’ (Brass 1991: 198).
40
41
In the financial year 1981-1982, Punjab’s GDP per capita income stood at INRs3,164,
the highest in India, compared to the national average of only INRs1,758 (Wallace 1986: 369).
42
Of course this does not necessarily imply that all such scholars are against viewing
economic conditions as a credible explanatory factor as to the rise of the Khalistan movement,
since many acknowledge that it is the perception of deprivation rather than deprivation in itself
that sparks discontent.
39
114
reasons for this. The first reason being that the GDP per capita figures do not take into
account the inequality of wealth distribution, it is purely a mean figure. Second, ones
assessment of their economic standing is essentially relative. For example, a person earning
a salary of INRs5,000 but who, owing to an honest appraisal of their own strengths and
weaknesses, expects to earn INRs20,000 is likely to be more discontented than someone
earning INRs4,500 but who actually only expected to earn INRs5,500 (see Chapter 1: 43).
Moreover, while Punjabis may have been well-off in comparison with the rest of India, if
such Punjabis were to compare their wage and lifestyle to perhaps even Pakistani
Punjabis43 across the Wagah or, in particular, with Sikh diasporans, they probably would
begin to view the ‘Hinduized’ centre as guilty of trying to impede their economic
aspirations. In the opinion of KPS Gill:
Politically the Sikh community is very naïve. They go by very simple solutions to
complicated problems. They go into conspiracy theories that Brahmins are not
letting us grow then it started as, Hindus are not letting us grow. One of the reasons
was that Sikh expatriates who went abroad grew rich very quickly, that the boy
sitting here would not understand that why can’t he do that, so he found something
wrong with the social system here and Bhindranwale said that I will give you a way
out of this, it is because of the Hindu that you are weak so you must kill the Hindu,
you must get rid of him—exactly the way in which Hitler grew in power, there is a
tremendous parallel (quoted in Chadha 2005: 198).
As for the third reason why such economic grievances are not necessarily baseless, one
must seriously challenge the implicit assumption that increased material prosperity
necessarily leads to contentment with the self or with wider society.
To conclude, there are plausible grounds for saying that ‘real’ economic conditions
and/or Sikh perceptions of economic injustice were factors which impelled many young
men to take to militancy and support the Khalistan ideal. Many Khalistanis leaders and
groups have also made regular reference to economic issues as being among the list of
43
Though Pakistan, as with India, is also a largely poverty stricken country, the position
of Punjab, and the Punjabis, in Pakistan is a hegemonic one—especially so, during and since
General Zia-ul-Haq’s reign.
115
grievances that they hold against the Indian state and why secession, for them, is the only
solution. However, it needs to be stressed that Punjab was not the only Indian state to
experience the ‘Green Revolution’ (and presumably its backwash effects), nor was it the
only state to hold grievances against New Delhi for its detrimental fiscal policies. Yet
unlike Haryana, which also experienced the ‘Green Revolution’ and held certain economic
grievances vis-i-vis the centre, Punjab experienced a fully-fledged secessionist movement. So
it is clear that other factors, beyond the economic, must have played a role in explaining
the rise of the Khalistan movement.
IV. Operation Blue Star
It has been said that the government’s decision to storm the Golden Temple through the
deployment of the Indian Armed Forces on 3-6 June 1984, resulted in a near total
alienation of the Sikhs from both their fellow Hindu countrymen and the Indian state in
general (Pritam Singh, 2008: 43, Nayar and Khushwant Singh 1984: 10). From the Sikh
point of view it is difficult to downplay the sheer magnitude of this event,44 with Darshan
Singh Tatla (2006: 61) describing it as nothing less than a ghallughara.45 Therefore it is not
surprising to see why many scholars have agreed that, far from crushing the secessionist
insurgency, Operation Blue Star actually acted as a catalyst for the rise of militant activity
(including support for the Khalistan demand). Without a doubt, few would disagree with
Andrew Major’s assessment that ‘before June 1984 the appeal of the Khalistan slogan
among the Sikh community was exceedingly limited’ (1987: 57).
44
Operation Blue Star ended with the virtual destruction of the Akal Takht, irreparable
damage to historic handwritten copies of the Sri Guru Granth Sahib and hukumnamas which
contained the signatures of the Gurus, the death of 493 civilians/militants (including
Bhindranwale) and the death of 83 army personnel (Khushwant Singh 1984: 10-11, White
Paper 1984: 169).
45
In Sikh history, the term ghallughara is used to describe only two other important
events for the community; the first, being the chota ghallughara of 1746 when Sikhs were
massacred at Kahnuwan by the Mughal forces from Lahore resulting in the death of
approximately 10,000 Sikhs; and the second, being the vadda ghallughara of 1762 when the
Afghan forces killed between 20,000-30,000 Sikhs at Malerkotla, followed by the Golden
Temple being razed to the ground (Mahmood 1996: 108).
116
However, apart from the more discernible inferences that Operation Blue Star was
interpreted ‘by most Sikhs at time as nothing less than a declaration of war on the
community itself’ (Tatla 2006: 27), there appear to be chiefly seven associated grievances
which help in explaining the heightened anti-Hindu/anti-Indian sentiment, and by
consequence, the allure of the Khalistan concept. The first was the sense that Operation
Blue Star was not only a disproportionate response to the menace of Sikh militancy at the
time, but that there ‘were less painful ways of getting at Bhindranwale and his gang’ (Nayar
and Khushwant Singh 1984: 9). Washington-based Dr Gurmit Singh Aulakh (President of
the Council of Khalistan), expressing his dismay over the Operation Blue Star stated the
following:
Can you believe an independent, democratic country, will send out all the news
organisations out of Punjab and seal it, and then attack the Golden Temple…with
the Army, air force and navy and kill people there?….is this the work of a
democracy or a tyrant…a blood thirsty tyrant?46
Despite Kuldip Singh Brar, the Sikh Major-General who led the operation, holding the
view that ‘there was no other way’, even the esteemed Lieutenant-General Jagjit Singh
Aurora suggested that there were other solutions available (quoted in Mishra 1984: 29,
Aurora 1984: 90). In Nayar’s opinion, since the complex had a walled perimeter, ‘they [the
Indian Armed Forces] could have surrounded the temple, cut off everything, and waited
there...one month, two months, what did it matter?’47
Second, and linked to the previous grievance, that the raid was apparently a
‘deliberate attempt to humiliate their community rather than as a necessary step to curb
extremist violence’ (Kapur 1986: 235). Indeed the Sunday Times (1984) suggested that the
Golden Temple raid, far from being a spontaneous or ill-thought out action, was actually
nine months in the planning; with two Research and Analysis Wing (RAW) agents
apparently having ‘made several trips to London to seek expertise’ on dealing with such
46
47
Interview with Dr Gurmit Singh Aulakh. [Phone Interview], 21 February 2011.
117
counter-insurgency procedures.48 The third grievance associated with Operation Blue Star
was the objection to the actual date chosen to enter into the temple,49 which happened to
coincide with the anniversary of Guru Arjun Dev’s martyrdom while the complex was
crammed full of thousands of innocent pilgrims—many of whom were sadly caught up in
the crossfire. Conveying his grievance in this regard, Aulakh told this study, ‘to choose that
day…it tells you the bad intentions [of the Indian government]…the very well planned bad
intention to destroy the Sikh religion…and to teach the Sikhs a lesson so that they can
never again claim that they are a sovereign nation’.50
The fourth relates to the sense of humiliation felt among the Sikhs which derived
from the government, going against the centuries-old tradition of restoration and
maintenance of the temple through the voluntary labour of the panth, ordering members of
the Nihang sect to rebuild the destroyed Akal Takht (Hardgrave 1985: 134). Even the lifelong Congressman Dhillon, believes that Indira Gandhi committed a huge blunder in this
respect:
After Operation Blue Star, she handed over the Golden Temple to some stooges for
its karsevak…its reconstruction…she should never have done that…you see after
they had reconstructed the Akal Takht, the Sikhs demolished [it] and rebuilt it…had
she issued an apologising statement immediately after the Blue Star operation and
handed over the Golden Temple to the [Shiromani] Gurdwara Parbandhak
Committee, saying that ‘please re-build it and government will pay any expenses’,
she might have been forgiven…She did the greatest blunder by insisting to have it cleaned
and reconstructed by the government or the government stooges rather than telling the Sikhs
to do it themselves…She forgot one very important thing…you see Sikhs, or Punjabis,
are a marital people, they understood that if you take up guns against the
government, the government will do this…they know this…Till the Golden Temple
was handed over to Santa Singh, Sikhs understood, that this had to happen, they
48
Of course whereas many would view this Sunday Times article as evidence of the
Congress (I)’s sinister motives vis-à-vis their community, some Indians would invariably regard
such reports as either entirely fabricated or ‘proof’ that the state invested meticulous planning
into the operation in order to avoid as much structural damage to the complex as possible.
49
Khushwant Singh stated that the government missed the ‘rightful opportunity of
entering the temple’ when Deputy Inspector General of Police (DIG) Atwal was shot-dead on
its doorstep (Nayar and Khushwant Singh 1984: 10).
50
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were not carrying any grudge, they started carrying [a] grudge only afterwards
[emphasis added].51
The fifth grievance, although the operation was led and carried out by the Congress
(I) run Indian state, was the distinct lack of sympathy shown towards the Sikhs by other
sections of the country. Many commentators have since lambasted the opposition parties
for forsaking their normative role of conscientiously scrutinising government policy and
instead having ‘not even a muted criticism to offer’ (Bhattacharya and Mangat 1990: 126).
Additionally, and quite disturbingly, according to Khushwant Singh, many Hindus
‘celebrated the destruction of the Akal Takht by distributing laddoosi…they entertained the
Jawans with sweets, cigarettes and liquor…they did not give a damn about how we felt
about it’ (Nayar and Khushwant Singh 1984: 18).
The sixth was that the government, in what can be described as a complete
disregard for the sentiments of the Sikh masses, presented gallantry awards to those
members of the Indian Armed Forces who had taken part in Blue Star (Malik 1985: 58).
Seventh, was the grievance concerning the media portrayal of the Golden Temple raid,
including inaccurate reports disseminating from the government-controlled Doordarshan
news-channel that the Harimandir Sahib escaped damage (Tatla 2006: 64). According to
Khushwant Singh,
[c]ontrary to the government’s contention that due to the Army’s self-imposed
restraint the Harimandir has escaped damage, I counted over two dozen fresh bullet
marks in the marble walls and saw holes made by shrapnel that had pierced
through metal covered windows and shattered glass panes protecting fresco
paintings (Nayar and Khushwant Singh 1984: 17).
That certain Sikhs simply did not accept the official version of events was apparent, with
one local man recounting that, ‘we kept listening to Indian broadcasts but we knew
everything we heard was false’ (quoted in Mahmood 1996: 129). Moreover added to this
51
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apparent distortion was the sense that not only were the official number of dead grossly
underestimated but that, even after such a traumatic event, their community were still
tarnished as ‘terrorists’ and therefore somehow deserving of their fate. Dr Paramjit Singh
Ajrawat, President of Anti-Defamation Sikh Council for Freedom of Khalistan, said that in
the immediate aftermath of the operation, ‘many of my family members and friends
reported witnessing truckloads of dead bodies being taken out of Amritsar and cremated in
the desert, as far away as Bikaner in Rajasthan’52
Beyond reasonable doubt Operation Blue Star, and the numerous grievances
surrounding it, served as a contributory factor in the rise of the Sikh separatist insurgency,
with many Khalistanis such as Srai53 considering it as a ‘point of no return’ and Kanwarpal
Singh, spokesperson for the Dal Khalsa and ex-Babbar Khalsa militant, admitting that, ‘it
completely isolated me from the Indian state, after the attack they had conducted against
my religion I could not associate myself any longer with India’.54 Operation Blue Star, and
in particular the explicit imagery associated with the raid, such as the desecrated Akal
Takht, acted (inadvertently or not) as a powerful ‘chosen trauma’ for those Sikhs aiming to
convince others in their community that not only would secession be a more appealing
proposition than remaining within India but that they were more than within their rights to
take up an armed resistance for that purpose (Volkan 1997: 36). A separate Sikh state,
despite the glaring geo-political and socio-economic challenges it would encounter, would,
according to Ganga Singh Dhillon, at least guarantee that their ‘religious shrines [were] not
allowed to be run over by army tanks’ (quoted in The Illustrated Weekly of India 1985).
Furthermore, Blue Star also ‘gave the movement for Khalistan its first martyr in Jarnail
Singh Bhindranwale’ (Khushwant Singh [1966] 2004: 378). Although Bhindranwale
poignantly avoided openly admitting support for Sikh secessionism to anyone from the
Indian press,55 there is no doubt that in death he has served as a symbolic figurehead for
52
Interview with Paramjit Singh Ajrawat. [E-mail Interview], 30 October 2010.
54
Interview with Kanwarpal Singh. Amritsar, 11 September 2010.
55
When asked whether he was for the Khalistan concept, Bhindranwale replied, ‘I
neither support Khalistan, nor am I against it’ (Sunday 1983: 28).
53
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those raising the Khalistan banner: as shown by one militant cell even opting to include the
name ‘Bhindranwale’ in its title i.e. BTFK.
As valuable a contributory factor Operation Blue Star may be, it is not sufficient
enough to explain the rise of the Khalistan movement. Namely because Sikh militancy was
actually quite subdued in the calendar year following the raid, with only 73 militancy
related deaths in 1985 as opposed to 456 in the previous year of 1984 (see Figure 3). Also,
and perhaps more obviously, since it is an ‘event-related’ factor it cannot account for the
pro-Khalistani sentiments and militancy that existed prior to June 1984 (which albeit
existed at a far lower scale).
V. Anti-Sikh Pogroms
Whereas the Congress (I) government could be regarded as liable for the Blue Star tragedy,
after the anti-Sikh pogroms (1-3 November 1984) it became very difficult for ordinary Sikhs
not to (if they had not already) develop an intense dislike for the Hindu community in
general. The pogroms, which followed news of Indira Gandhi’s assassination at the hands
of her two Sikh bodyguards, were concentrated predominantly within the national capital
of New Delhi. With numerous incidents of Sardars being burnt alive, their beards being cut,
Sikh women being raped in front of their family, as well as the looting of homes and
businesses (Jain 1995: 182), the pogroms served to increase the sense of Sikh isolationism
from the rest of India (Chakravarti 1994). Aside from the obvious psychological pain and
material losses endured by the Sikhs as a result of the pogroms, it appears that there existed
a few more associated gripes regarding this event which served to heighten the antiHindu/anti-Indian sentiment, and by consequence, the desirability of creating a separate
Sikh nation.
The first in the long list of grievances concerned Rajiv Gandhi’s handling, or rather
non-handling, of the anti-Sikh pogroms. Although Rajiv Gandhi would likely have been in
an emotionally distraught state following the assassination of his mother, many deem it
unforgivable that he waited a total of three-days before ordering the entry of the army into
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pogrom hit Delhi (Prakash 2008: 538). In addition to this, some of the statements made by
the new PM were hardly statesman-like (Manor 1991: 194). Such as when, attempting to
provide an analogy to his mother’s demise and accompanied pogroms, he said, ‘when a
mighty tree falls, it’s only natural that the earth around it does shake a little’ (Mitta and
Phoolka 2007: 3). Such statements by the PM arguably legitimised to some degree, or at
least trivialised, the horrendous acts against the Sikhs.
The second grievance was the sense that the violence was not simply a spontaneous
reaction to the news that Indira Gandhi had been murdered, but rather was organised and
orchestrated by those people supposedly responsible for maintaining order, namely officers
from the Delhi Police and local Congress politicians (Malik 1985: 48, Hardgrave 1985: 140141, Kapur 1986: 236, Chakravarti 1994: 2722, Pritam Singh 2008: 45, Nanavati Commission
2005: 181). Nayar, when asked about his own memory of this affair, said,
I was not here [in Delhi], I was in Pakistan at the time...following my return I could
see that the Sikhs had been butchered...many of the attacks had been orchestrated
by the Congress government and their party men...We went to help some of the
victims, provided them with medicine and things...you see they purposely marked
out Sikh properties and businesses, the riots were pre-planned in the most malicious
way.56
What is also worth nothing is that while high profile Congressmen (belonging to a selfproclaimed ‘secular’ party) were leading the massacres, many RSS men, so regularly
lambasted by ‘mainstream’ sections of the Indian media, valiantly came forward to protect
the Sikhs.57
56
According to Khushwant Singh, cited in Publik Asia (1989), ‘[i]t was the Congress
leaders who instigated mobs in 1984 and got more than 3,000 people killed. I must give due
credit to RSS and the BJP for showing courage and protecting helpless Sikhs during those
difficult days. No less a person than Atal Bihari Vajpayee himself intervened at a couple of
places to help poor taxi drivers’.
57
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Third, the question of why, in the history of assassinated Indian political leaders, it
was only the Sikhs that had to deal with such a backlash. Kanwarpal Singh, in fairly
emotive tone, remarked:
Why is it the Sikhs were massacred indiscriminately when Indira Gandhi
died?...When Rajiv Gandhi was killed, why wasn’t there an attack against the
Tamils?...When Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated why wasn’t there a backlash
against the Brahmins?...Why only against the Sikhs? Almost 3,000 innocent Sikhs
had to die...Why?...But not one Hindu was killed by a Sikh.58
Although there can be no sane justification for the pogroms, it can be speculated that a
combination of the Sikhs’ distinctive appearance and demographic distribution as a thinly
spread minority outside Punjab meant that they were essentially ‘sitting ducks’ for the
Hindu mobs.59
The fourth grievance surrounding the anti-Sikh pogroms was that, in spite of Rajiv
Gandhi’s seemingly poor handling of the pogroms and Congress (I)’s complicity in the
killings, the party received a huge victory in the December 1984 general elections (Prakash
2008: 538). According to Kanwarpal Singh,
[y]ou know the Congress actually secured one of the highest vote percentages after
the pogroms, so in our eyes the rest of India had rubber stamped its approval for
those actions against the Sikhs...everyone knew what had happened to the Sikhs,
how they were massacred, but they still voted Congress.60
Whereas others such as Sohan Sahota and Dharam Sahota (1993: 148) have suggested that
the landslide victory was owed to Rajiv Gandhi riding the ‘sympathy wave’ from his
mother’s death (rather than as a reflection of India’s approval for the pogroms), it is plain
to see how Kanwarpal Singh and others may have drawn different interpretations these
election results.
58
Interview with Gurcharan Singh. London, 24 February 2011.
60
59
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The fifth grievance, despite the various commissions and committees that have
been set up to look into the pogroms since November 1984 (which invariably are dismissed
as ‘whitewashes’ by some Khalistanis), many Sikhs bemoan the distinct lack of justice that
has followed:
The Misra Commission was a big whitewash. Misra is a radical Hindu who was more
interested in getting grants from the central government for the establishment of a
Hindu and Sanskrit college, than in identifying the guilty and getting them
punished. Dr Aulakh and I confronted him in Washington D.C. approximately ten
years ago. Misra blamed the Sikhs for causing the problem and pretended nothing
happened. The former [US] Ambassador to India, Mr [William Jnr] Clark, sided
with him and the whole Indian embassy crowd, and blamed us for abusing their
hospitality as we put Justice Misra on the spot. This is the same Clark who, in a private
meeting in Delhi after the Holocaust of 1984, told my uncle, Col. Partap Singh, and Justice
Ajit Singh Bains that Americans want to help Sikhs make their own country, but that the
Sikhs are not ready. And now the same guy was siding with the tyrants, blaming and
insulting us in public right here in Washington, D.C., all because India’s ties with
the US were changing because of Pakistan’s growing alliance with China [emphasis
added].61
As far as dispensing justice to the victims is concerned, not enough has been
done…actually, apart from a few compensations here or there; none of the culprits
have been punished.62
Indeed many Congressmen suspected of involvement in the pogroms went on to secure
lucrative positions within the government, something which infuriated ordinary Sikhs.63
On the whole, perhaps second only to Operation Blue Star, the memory and
imagery associated with the anti-Sikh pogroms has served as the chief mobilising force for
generating support and legitimisation for the Khalistan concept. Even some of the victims
themselves, in the immediate aftermath of the pogroms, made reference to how they had
ceased to be Indians and became ‘Khalistanis’ (Chakravarti 1994: 2724-2725).
61
Interview with Tridivesh Singh Maini. London, 7 March 2011.
63
62
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Nevertheless, very much like Blue Star, this event-related factor cannot account for the
events to do with the Khalistan movement prior to 1984.
VI. State-Terrorism
A fair number of scholars (e.g. Major 1987, Gurharpal Singh 1993, 1996; Pettigrew 1995)
have indicated in their work, that the Indian state’s counterinsurgency operations in Punjab
actually contributed towards the rise of the Khalistan movement.64 In fact many have even
gone as far as to accuse India of ‘state-terrorism’ in Punjab (Randhir Singh 1994, Gopal
Singh 1994: 83, Malik 1985). While it can be argued that ‘terrorism’, in the strict
application of the term, cannot be used to describe the actions of a state,65 it should not be
assumed that the Indian security forces—inclusive of the Punjab Police, Central Reserve
Police Force (CRPF), or BSF—were any more moral or principled in their conduct than
the so-called ad hoc Khalistani militants. The criticisms in this regard, as per the associated
literature, cover both the official and unofficial reactions of the Indian state to the militancy
problem.
In terms of the official reaction, the passing of a series of anti-terror legislation,
ranging from the National Security Act (1980), Punjab Disturbed Areas Ordinance (1983),
Terrorist Areas Act (1984) and Terrorist and Disruptive Prevention Act (1985), in effect
permitted the security forces to get away with human rights violations and other
misdemeanours (Tatla 2006: 70, Randhir Singh 1994: 137). In addition, Operation
Woodrose actually drove many innocent young Sikhs across the border into Pakistan
where they were consequently trained up as terrorists (Gupta et al. 1988: 1678, Deol 2000:
108, Prakash 2008: 537). This is because Woodrose, according to Gill, who advocated a
frontline role for the Punjab Police in counterinsurgency operations during his tenure as
According to Gurharpal Singh, ‘instead of containing terrorism, vigorous antiterrorism exacerbated the Punjab crisis’ with terrorist and state-terrorist killing rising from
1,246 in 1986 to 3,074 in 1988 (1993: 94).
65
This is especially so if one is to take the Weberian line that nation-states hold a
‘monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory’ (Weber 1918).
64
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DGP, was conducted by armed forces from outside the state unfamiliar with the Punjab
landscape. The operation
suffered from all the classical defects of army intervention in civil strife—an
extraneous and heavily armed force suddenly transported into unfamiliar territory;
[a population] mistrustful (in this case, exceptionally so) of the local police and
intelligence, but with no independent sources of information; dealing with a
population, large segments of which had become hostile; and operating under a
political fiat that not only condoned, but emphasised the use of punitive force.
Operating blindly, the army arrested large numbers of people, many innocent,
others perhaps sympathetic to the militant cause, but by no means associated with
any terrorist or criminal activity. Lacking in adequate information to distinguish
effectively at the local level, the indiscriminate sweep of Woodrose pushed many a
young man across the border into the arms of welcoming Pakistani handlers (2001:
30).
Moreover such troops, prior and during their deployment, were exposed to the anti-Sikh
propaganda of many national media outlets at the time which may have created the
impression, perhaps ‘through sheer ignorance, that every “Amritdhari” Sikh [man]…was
dangerous’ (Malik 1985: 46). A police officer, who served during the period of the
Khalistan movement, confessed that ‘young Sikh men between the ages of eighteen and
forty, who [had] long beards and [wore] turbans, [were] considered to be pro-Khalistan’
(Dead Silence 1994: 20).
In terms of the unofficial reaction to the militancy, there is an abundance of
evidence to suggest that numerous officers belonging to the Punjab Police abused their
positions by torturing detainees, such as Khalistani militant Jassa Singh Santuwal (quoted
in Pettigrew 1995: 179), in custody,66 placing false sedition charges on political dissidents67
A police officer interviewed by Human Rights Watch admitted that: ‘Without
exception, any person who is detained at the police station is tortured. The methods of torture
range from beatings with a leather strap or wooden club, to suspension from the ceiling, to use
of a heavy wooden roller which is moved up and down a detainee’s thighs, to the stretching
apart of the detainee’s legs at the crotch. The torture is intended to elicit information regarding
the names of militants, whereabouts of weapons caches or information regarding future plans of
the militants. Those who were suspected of being militants, but gave no information during
66
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and even killing scores of innocent Sikhs in ‘fake encounters’.68 Furthermore, Gopal Singh
suggested that ‘the Punjab Police and other security forces…not only extorted money from
innocent people but at times have also committed gang rapes’ (1994: 97). Such conduct not
only blurred ‘the distinction between a policeman and a militant’, but, in the eyes of many
ordinary Sikh Punjabis, actually led to militants attaining the moral high ground in the
struggle (Deol 2000: 113). This meant that even if ordinary Sikhs, on the whole, were not
in favour of secession, for a long while it made them far more sympathetic towards the
militants and their actions than they otherwise would have been. Suffice to say the corrupt
behaviour of members of the Punjab Police, which seemed endemic during Gill’s tenure,
inevitably made the task of intelligence gathering and maintenance of law-and-order
virtually impossible for those policemen who had upheld their integrity and discipline.
Although it is clear that the Indian security forces indulged in excesses against the
Sikhs in Punjab, the scale to which this happened remains a point of contention. Even
among political Khalistanis themselves, who are typically sceptical of any ‘official’ figures
disseminating from New Delhi, there is a marked difference in the numbers cited from
person to person—with Manmohan Singh Khalsa saying ‘they [the Indian security forces]
killed 25,000 Sikh youth’,69 whereas Srai says ‘we are not exaggerating when we talk about
hundreds of thousands of Sikhs [that] have been killed since 1984’.70 Even figures from
supposedly impartial bodies, such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, do
torture, are tortured to death. Anyone who admitted to being a militant or of supporting
militants is also killed. Also, the torture is intended to punish those whom the police authorities
and government suspect of harbouring pro-Khalistan sympathies. For example, those who are
suspected of providing shelter to militants are routinely detained and tortured to send a
message to all Sikhs not to support the militants or the movement for Khalistan in any way. If
the torture victim is too brutally tortured or if serious injury results from the torture, the detainee
is executed in a false “encounter”’ [emphasis added] (quoted in Dead Silence 1994: 59).
67
Sarabjit Singh Ghuman (Dal Khalsa activist) claimed he had been falsely imprisoned
on fabricated sedition charges and described life in India as ‘a living hell’. Amritsar, 11
September 2010.
68
Many officers justified, officially, the killing of certain civilians on the often dubious
grounds that ‘they were terrorists’, when in actual fact they were motivated by the cash bounties
that existed for killing ‘militants’, listed or not. According to Kanwar Sandhu, the Punjab Police
under Gill in effect became mercenaries, ‘besides the rewards for killing listed militants [annual
outlay for the purpose: Rs1.13 crore], the department [gave] “unannounced rewards” for killing
unlisted militants’ (India Today 1992).
69
70
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have to be treated with a measure of wariness, since they have a tendency to rely on
unofficial ground level sources for their data (Ballesteros et al. 2006). Regardless of the
extent to which state-terrorism was prevalent in Punjab, importantly the perception among
the Sikhs was, and remains, that such violations were widespread.
Overall it is undeniable that ‘state-terrorism’ took place in Punjab, and that such
conduct by the Indian security forces contributed towards a rise in the Khalistan
movement. Indeed, Pettigrew, who conducted in-depth interviews with eleven militants
from the KCF, suggested that all the incidents of police torture that her respondents spoke
of, ‘took place before they had indulged in any armed action’ (1995: 140). Even so, one must
appreciate that while an over-reaction by a states’ security forces to secessionist militancy
may invite further terrorism, by the reverse token, an under-reaction probably would not
aid in quelling an insurgency either (Jain 1995: 101). In the end it is difficult to deny that
the brutal state counterinsurgency apparatus actually helped crush the Khalistan
movement, though not before many thousands of innocent Sikhs were massacred and
families left haunted by the memory of their deceased youth.
VII. Role of the Media
Many scholars (e.g. Patwant Singh 1985, Pritam Singh 1985, Malik 1985) have suggested
that the media, particularly on the national level, contributed towards the rise of the Sikh
secessionist insurgency. The general arguments in this regard suggest that the Congress (I)
controlled, or affiliated, national media outlets presented (intentionally or unintentionally)
the Sikhs, particularly Keshdharis, as fanatics and wrongly depicted Akali political
demands, such as the Anandpur Sahib Resolution, as ‘secessionist’ (Pritam Singh 1985,
Randhir Singh 1994: 137, Grewal 2005: 297). Rather than blaming the government for
deliberately misconstruing the Anandpur Sahib Resolution as secessionist, Nayar, while
conceding there was nothing sinister behind the document, believes that ‘the issue was the
way in which they [the Akalis] sold it...they didn’t package it properly...that is what caused
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the suspicion’.71 Moreover, it has been contended that not only was Sikh militancy prior to
June 1984 ‘blown out of proportion’ but on occasions when the Sikhs deserved due
sympathy from the national press, such as in the aftermath of the Delhi pogroms, the ‘hot
news’ quickly shifted towards the December 1984 elections (Mathew 1985: 262).72 While
one can speculate as to the reasons behind why many national media outlets issued news
that ‘was highly distorted and quite anti-Sikh in nature’ (Randhir Singh 1994: 137), it is less
contentious to suggest that such news inevitably led to many Hindus feeling increasingly
apprehensive about; 1) their day-to-day interaction with the Sikhs; and 2) the prospect of
Punjab seceding from India. Such propaganda also legitimised, to a large degree, the brutal
counter-insurgency measures against the Sikhs, including Operation Blue Star and
Operation Woodrose. Perhaps more worryingly, owing to the skewed nature of the
national media coverage, ‘the general attitude was that “the Sikhs deserve it because they
were killing Hindus in Punjab”’ (Mathew 1985: 262).
Before proceeding, it must be stressed that the ‘media’ should not be perceived of in
monolithic terms73 nor can its role in the rise of the Khalistan movement be viewed as onedirectional. There are a few reasons for this. The first is that the Congress (I) could not
develop a complete monopoly over the news available to its citizenry.74 There is evidence
to suggest that, as Harnik Deol (2000) and others such as Nayar and Khushwant Singh
(1984: 41) have pointed out, even the widely circulated Punjab-based daily newspapers
(operating beyond New Delhi’s control) played a role in stoking Hindu-Sikh tensions.
Giving an example of the communalised nature of the Punjab-based press at the time, Deol
(2000) draws reference to the reactions of two newspapers to the death of Lala Jagat
Narain. The Hindi daily, Punjab Kesari (a predominantly Hindu readership), wrote, ‘Lalaji
sacrificed his life for the sake of Hindu-Sikh unity and for the country’s unity. He opposed
71
That the Indian national media were following a policy of agenda-setting, or even
thought-control, is a view upheld by a few notable scholars (Malik 1985: 56, Kumar 2008: 11).
73
Media arrived in various forms during this period, ranging from printed, televised and
radio; it also operated at a range of different levels, including provincial, national and
international.
74
Even though it did go close to doing so in Punjab, when it ordered a total news ban on
non-government controlled media outlets during Operation Blue Star (Malik 1985: 44).
72
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the formation of Khalistan. He did not believe that Sikhs were a separate nation’; whereas
the Punjabi daily, Ajit (a predominantly Sikh readership) wrote, ‘[w]e had major differences
of opinion with Lalaji which we expressed strongly…I favoured Punjab, Punjabi and
Punjabiat; he regarded this as my narrow mindedness’ (Deol 2000: 166). While Ajit, in this
instance, was hardly condoning the actions of Narain’s killers, it was far from the ‘fitting
tribute’ that one would have expected for a man who had proudly fought for the freedom of
his country.
Also the Congress (I) could not conceivably control or even exert sufficient
influence over the international press’ reporting of the Punjab crisis (Gupta 1990: 364).
However, considering that India was regarded as a staunch Soviet ally during most of the
Cold War, it is more than likely that many influential western media outlets would have
relished the opportunity to ‘expose’ the human rights violations and draconian policies of
the Indian state.75 Even though Bhindranwale, as mentioned previously, never explicitly
admitted his support for the Khalistan concept when dealing with the Indian media, he was
quoted as saying to a British journalist from the Daily Mail (1984) that, ‘I ask [the Sikhs] to
prepare themselves to join the fight for our independence as a separate nation’, and in an
interview with The Observer (1984) on the eve of the Blue Star raid, ‘[f]rankly I don’t think
that Sikhs can either live in or with India’. Whether this was evidence of Bhindranwale
feeling free to express his true political stance to overseas journalists, or an example of ‘the
foreign media…deliberately presenting totally distorted versions of the Punjab situation’, is
of course a matter of opinion (White Paper 1984: 55). Nevertheless it can be safely assumed
that the international media, not having to take India’s national interest into consideration,
were less averse to publicising the more gory details of the insurgency. This perhaps
accounts, to some degree, for why Sikhs diasporans appeared to be proportionally more in
favour of the Khalistan concept than their co-religionists in Punjab.
The second reason for why the media should not be viewed in monolithic terms or
its impact adjudged as one-directional is that the Sikhs, just like the Hindu majority
Perhaps the only short-term cost to such ‘India-bashing’ was the possibility that it
could lead to the rise of tensions between their domestic immigrant Hindu and Sikh populations.
75
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population, were capable of accessing various forms of media. This made them susceptible
to multi-directional flows of information, which helped support as well as corrode their
continually evolving political standpoints. As such many Sikhs in India, both then and
now, view the Khalistan concept as ideologically flawed or even treacherous, or at least
have tended to develop a far more ‘centrist’ view of the Punjab crisis than those situated in
the diaspora.
The third reason, simply because Indian citizens were exposed to different types of
media it did not necessarily mean that these were appropriated in equal measure. Rather
many citizens could have either ignored, partially appropriated or even formed
diametrically opposed viewpoints based on the official narrative.
To conclude, while many scholars have insisted that the media were responsible for
fuelling the rise of the Sikh secessionist insurgency, it is perhaps more accurate to say that
the media existed more as a platform to construct, and/or destruct, ideological support for
the Khalistan concept and Indian nation-state. Also, while some held the opinion that the
media initiated, through a top-down process, both the fervour for Khalistan and the Hindu
majority paranoia surrounding this, it needs to be appreciated that, in order for it to have
had a tangible sway over the sentiments and behaviour of its recipients, such
news/propaganda needed to tap into pre-existing insecurities (even if such anxieties had
hitherto laid ‘beneath the surface’).
VIII. Sikh Diaspora
Arguably one of the most striking features of the Khalistan movement concerned the level
of support it enjoyed among Sikh diasporans—many of whom were located thousands of
miles away from the epicentre of the conflict (Gupta 1990, Fair 2005). Indeed Gurharpal
Singh went as far as to suggest that ‘the Sikh Diaspora ha[d] been at the forefront of the ethnic
agitation, providing both material and intellectual support for militant groups waging an
armed campaign for Khalistan’ [emphasis added] (1993: 92). Such a view is not without
foundation, with material support for the insurgency often arriving in the form of
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misappropriated gurdwara funds in North America and the UK, and occasionally even
outright terrorism.76 Less contentious an issue was the level of intellectual support
prominent leaders and groups located in the diaspora had given to promote the idea of Sikh
sovereignty and highlight the human rights abuses committed by the Indian state in Punjab.
Also particularly in North America, it is said many pro-Khalistani Sikhs attempted to lobby
senior politicians, and right-wing think tanks such as the Heritage Foundation, to support
the cause for Khalistan. This is something which the Indian government had, and has since
the end of the insurgency, expressed concern over (White Paper 1984: 37, BBC News 2008).
However one notable criticism of the literature in this section is that relatively few
scholars have sought to move beyond the descriptive and actually advance potential
reasons as to why support for Khalistan grew so strongly in diaspora. The explanations that
have been cited tend to imply either that conservative minded Sikhs were reacting to the
threat, or rather perception, that they or their families could assimilate into their host
society (Jhutti-Johal 2011);77 or contrastingly, that Sikh attempts at integrating into their
host nations were thwarted by the majority community’s unwillingness to accept the
former as ‘true citizens’ (Juergensmeyer 1979, Ahmed 1996: 56). Needless to say, with both
of the above, the implicit assumption was that such Sikhs became not only ‘more
aggressively traditional…culturally exclusive and chauvinistic’ but, crucially, that
expressing support for Khalistan, at whatever level, acted as an antidote to their diasporic
identity problem (La Brack 1988, Nandy 1997: 158). Actually Bruce La Brack, in his study
of urban Californian Sikhs, describes this community as ‘a centre of strong pro-Khalistan
sentiments’ and suggests that many of its members consider themselves ‘a more
conservative and traditional community than counterparts in Punjab itself’ (1999: 378).
76
On 23 June 1985, Canadian Sikh members of the Babbar Khalsa blew-up Air India
Flight 182 (Montreal-London-Delhi) resulting in the death of all 329 civilians on-board.
77
Rather than assimilation in itself creating fear, it is the pace of change and changing
against one’s own will that is the issue (Sigel 1989: 459). The fear that some diasporic Sikhs felt
could have stemmed from the growing non-adherence or corruption of the Khalsa tenants
among their youth, forgetting their Punjabi mother tongue, marriage or sexual relations
(especially so if concerning their daughters and/or sisters) with non-Sikhs etc.
132
Though the commonly ascribed explanations have credibility, they are not
sufficient to account for why the Sikh diaspora played such a prominent role in the rise of
the Khalistan movement. Therefore it is perhaps wise to provide some reasons as to why
this was the case. The first is the view that the Sikhs in the diaspora, unlike in India, did not
fear a backlash from their co-countrymen and/or their state for holding, or openly
expressing, a pro-secessionist stance. Indeed Srai, conceded that Sikh diasporans had been
‘more vocal’ in their support for Khalistan in comparison to their co-religionists in Punjab,
yet indicated that there was a logical explanation for this. In his view,
[t]he Sikhs in Punjab have been absolutely battered since 1984, if you talk about
your national rights, if you talk about independence, if your talk about freedom you
are immediately targeted…people who advocate Khalistan in Punjab are routinely
charged with sedition…We’ve had genocide, within the last twenty, twenty-five
years…we’ve had hundreds of thousands of people killed, we’ve had lives reduced
to misery, now are we seriously saying to these people that Punjab has changed, it’s
no longer a police state? Are we seriously saying to those people it’s ok to talk
openly about Khalistan? I think we all know that they would be shut down pretty
quickly…Now I remember Justice Ajit Singh Bains coming to this country [UK]
not long ago and speaking at a conference in the House of Commons in
Westminster…and he was asked this question, ‘that we have people abroad talking
about self-determination for the Sikhs, we have people like yourself, Justice Bains
coming abroad and talking about these issues…but why is it that there is no current
visible struggle being maintained in a political sense?’, and he said that the reason
why Punjab seems quiet is because we have, as he used the term, the ‘peace of the
graveyard’…People have been massacred, people have been butchered, people
remember those days, they’ve lost relatives, we have had whole villages cleansed of
young Sikh males, now we’re talking about these people today, suddenly waving
the Khalistan flag?...In the midst of what is still a police state…it’s not realistic.78
Other prominent Khalistanis in the diaspora, such as Aulakh and Ajrawat have all
expressed similar views:
78
133
The Movement Against State Repression chairman, Bhai Inderjit Singh Jaijee
and…Bibi Baljit Kaur…they came to me and they said if the outside Sikhs
[diasporans] had not made noise against the murdering of the Sikhs in India, now
they [the Indian state] have killed a quarter million Sikhs, Indian government
would have killed ten times more Sikhs…so keep continuing your voice, you are a
safety for us…otherwise Indian government has a complete free hand to commit
the genocide of the Sikh nation…So we the Sikhs outside, we keep an eye on
what’s going on…and if a Sikh anywhere is in trouble then Sikhs all over the world
will share their problem and we try to help them.79
The majority of the Sikhs in Punjab are for Khalistan, but they are a silent majority.
The reason they are mum is because they do not want to be massacred like dogs.80
In a sensible supposition from this point, though fearing the wrath of the Indian state may
partially explain why the Sikhs in Punjab were less enthusiastic about Khalistan than those
in the diaspora, by no means should this be viewed as the sole reason.
The second reason was that the Sikh diasporans (especially in the 1980s and 1990s)
were often intimidated into supporting, or at least not openly objecting to, the Khalistan
concept (Wood and Hunter 2000). In illustration of this point, wheelchair-bound journalist
and editor of the Indo-Canadian Times, Tara Singh Hayer OBC was shot dead by proKhalistani assassins on 18 November 1998 for having spoken out against the Khalistan
movement (MacQueen 2000). Even Ujjal Singh Dosanjh, arguably the most decorated Sikh
politician outside India,81 was attacked with an iron bar in February 1985 after speaking out
against Khalistan. Other less severe ways, have included denouncing such people as either
anti-Sikh or Indian agents. While intimidation by Khalistanis of non-Khalistani Sikhs was
not exclusive to the diaspora, it is fair to say that whereas in India it was more dangerous
for a Sikh to be openly pro-Khalistan than ‘anti’, in the diaspora for many years it was
actually the reverse.
79
81
Dosanjh served as the 33rd Premier of British Columbia, and has held ministerial
posts both at national and provincial level.
80
134
Third, is that many Sikhs outside India, especially true of those in the second
generation onwards, could be accused of holding an extremely abstract understanding of
their own ethnic background. For example, some pro-Khalistani Sikhs in the diaspora have
had a tendency to assume that Sikh or Punjabi identity is completely detached from the
Hindu Punjabi or non-Punjabi identities in the rest of India. Furthermore, many such Sikhs
could be criticised for holding a fairly reductionist narrative of the insurgency in Punjab.
For example, while many Khalistanis in the diaspora believe that the Punjab Police
conducted innumerable violations against innocent Sikhs or that the ‘Hinduized’ Congress
(I) held an anti-Sikh bias; it is also often conveniently ignored that the vast majority of these
officers were Keshdhari Sikhs and that a huge number of Sikhs voted for and stood as
candidates for the Congress (I). Naturally dwelling on Sikh complicity in human rights
violations or political machinations against their own religious kin does severely undermine
the premise that an independent Khalistan would somehow be a utopic solution to the
continued Sikh subjugation at the hands of the ‘Hinduized’ Indian nation-state.
The fourth reason for why diasporan support for Khalistan appeared to exceed that
exhibited by the Sikhs inside Punjab, and though it is a cliché, is that ‘good news does not
sell’. Sikhs residing in Europe and North America, when hearing news disseminating out of
India, with regards to Operation Blue Star, or the anti-Sikh pogroms and the various
human rights abuses carried out by the Indian security forces, were probably left with the
impression that the situation for the Sikhs in Punjab and northern India was of apocalyptic
proportions. This does not necessarily mean that such analyses were less accurate than
what the Sikhs in India had interpreted from the conflict, but obviously episodes of HinduSikh friendship and co-operation which had been a common feature of day-to-day Punjabi
life was not conveyed as clearly to such diasporans. Although Sikh diasporans, if we are to
follow Allport’s (1954) line of argument, that had more regular (and crucially positive)
contact with Hindu friends would have become less overtly pro-Khalistani as a result.
In summary, the Sikh diaspora were not only proportionally more in favour of
Khalistan than those in Punjab itself, but, through their extensive material and intellectual
135
support, also acted as a contributory factor towards the rise of the insurgency. Undeniably
while the role of the Sikh diaspora was significant in its own right, one must avoid
overplaying their sense of importance since the vast majority of militants on the ground,
putting their lives at risk (whether or not they were Khalistani ideologues), were born and
bred Punjabis. So clearly the role of the Sikhs diaspora, in itself, is by no means sufficient
enough to explain the rise of the Khalistan movement.
IX. Foreign Hand
The idea that the Khalistan insurgency had the help of a ‘foreign hand’, more specifically
from Pakistan and/or the US, is one which many scholars, to be mentioned throughout
this section, have alluded to.82 There exist nonetheless notable differences of opinion as to
how such external support was given, the time period this was confined to, and the potential
motivation(s) behind it.
Unsurprisingly Pakistan, primarily through its notorious ISI,83 were accused of not
only allowing their territory to be used as a safe-haven for Sikh militants, but also actively
training and arming these militants (even occasionally sending Pakistani nationals
‘disguised as Sikhs’ across the border to instigate violence). In support of this view, there is
demonstrable evidence that the various chiefs of Khalistani militant outfits were based in,
and directed their operations from, Pakistani territory.
Almost all the major terrorist leaders from Dr Sohan Singh, Wassan Singh
Zaffarwal (heads of two separate Panthic Committees) to Sukhdev Singh Dossuwal
and Wadhawa Singh of Babbar Khalsa, Atinder Pal Singh of AISSF (later to
become MP from Patiala) and Gurjit Singh of Bhindranwale Jatha were in
Pakistan…Thanks to a benevolent Pakistan government, very soon every major
terrorist outfit—Khalistan Commando Force, Babbar Khalsa International, AISSF,
82
Such position was also openly endorsed by the Indian government, with its then
Home Secretary MMK Wali, claiming that ‘the extremist movement aiming at an independent
Sikh state of Khalistan (land of the pure) was fully supported by neighbouring and foreign
powers’ (The Times 1984).
83
The ISI in Pakistan has regularly been termed as a ‘state within a state’ (Husain 2007:
12).
136
Akal Federation, Bhindranwale Tiger Force, etc.—had its own training centre
(Narayanan 1996: 42).
There were also details of specific terrorist training camps along the Indo-Pakistan border,84
a plethora of captured militant and military testimonies/confessions from both Indian and
Pakistani nationals (Gopal Singh 1994: 92, Narayanan 1996: 42, Rudra 2005: 55). In
addition, there existed much circumstantial evidence pointing towards Pakistani
involvement with respect to this insurgency. These include; first, that a total of fifty-two
Chinese rifles were recovered from the Golden Temple after Operation Blue Star;85 second,
some pro-Khalistanis based in India publically asked for material support from Pakistan in
their quest for independence;86 third, proposed maps or territorial claims of Khalistan, even
those which extending far beyond the territory of Indian Punjab (see Maps 6-7), excluded
areas currently under Pakistani jurisdiction. According to Kanwarpal Singh, when asked
whether Khalistan should include the historically important Nankana Sahib (birth place of
Guru Nanak Dev) and Lahore (the seat of Maharajah Ranjit Singh’s empire), both
currently in Pakistani Punjab territory, ‘we can’t change what has happened in the past, it’s
not practical to demand the inclusion of those areas outside the current state boundaries’;87
fourth, many diasporic Sikhs, with a pro-Khalistani stance, regularly travelled to Pakistan
and were treated with a large degree of respect by the Pakistani state authorities;88 and fifth,
there exist many Muslim-Sikh friendship organisations abroad, such as the UK-based
World Muslim Sikh Federation (WMSF), which typically serve as a platform to highlight
84
According to intelligence reports of the Punjab Police, Khalistani training camps in
Pakistani Punjab included, Hazura, Kasur, Purana Kahana, Lahore, Sheikhpura, Chungi Point,
Dera Sahib, Kartar Singh Gujranwala, Zaffarwal, Narowal, Jalalabad and Sialkot (Times of
India 1992).
85
This is because Pakistan has, for decades, attained strategic assistance from China.
86
Prominent Punjab-based Khalistani, Sukhjinder Singh, was quoted as saying, ‘any
help offered by other countries, including Pakistan, in the struggle for “Khalistan” would be
welcome’ (Grewal 2006: 103).
87
88
Chauhan was referred to as the ‘Father of the Sikh Nation’ during his trip to Pakistan
when he met with Yahya Khan in 1971, also it is well known that Ganga Singh Dhillon visited
Pakistan on many occasions and was a close friend of Gen Zia-Ul Haq (Grewal 2006: 103-104,
Sahota and Sahota 1993: 123).
137
human rights abuses of the Indian state in both Kashmir and Punjab, and promote the
‘independence’ of these respective areas.
In terms of when such support took place, while certain Indian hawks may like to
suggest that Pakistan were behind the agitation from the onset, most would agree that
large-scale support started from mid-1985 onwards (Joshi 1993: 1). Since the demise of the
Khalistan movement, the Pakistan state has not only allowed for the creation of the
Pakistan Sikh Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee (PSGPC)89 but has liberalised visas for
Sikh jathas arriving to Pakistan for pilgrimages to their holy sites and used this opportunity
to disseminate pro-Khalistan paraphernalia to such people (Fair 2005: 133, Rudra 2005:
56). Gurcharan Singh, who himself has travelled to Pakistan in 2007 as part of delegation
to set up Baba Nanak University at Nankana Sahib, acknowledges that it is in Pakistan’s
interest to keep the Sikhs ‘cosy, cosy’.90 Saying something of the pro-Khalistani atmosphere
that Pakistan has helped create for the Sikhs jathas, Aulakh recalls the reaction received
from a speech he delivered to a large congregation of Sikhs at Nankana Sahib, Pakistan:
[Around] 3,000 Sikhs came from Indian side Punjab this November [2010] to
celebrate Guru Nanak’s birthday…and all of them [Indian Sikhs and diasporans],
when I said…if you want Khalistan, say Zindabad, so I said Khalistan, and there
were 15,000 Sikhs over there and the whole of Nankana Sahib was [under a]
thunder of Zindabad…all of Nankana Sahib…15,000 people…I mean it was a
scene.91
However it appears that these measures to woo the Sikhs have come too late as far as
taking advantage of tensions in Indian Punjab is concerned.
89
In 1999 the Pakistan government under Nawaz Sharif, largely owing to the pressure
from Manmohan Singh Khalsa, consented to the creation of the PSGPC in 1999 (to mark the
Khalsa’s three-hundredth anniversary) for the maintenance and organisation of the Sikh
gurdwaras located in Pakistan. While such a move could be interpreted as no more than pure
‘goodwill’ on part of the Sharif administration, the fact that Lieutenant-General Javed Nasir, a
former Director General (DG) of the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), was put in charge of the
PSGPC perhaps said a large amount as to the Pakistani government’s true intentions (Khan
2009: 3).
90
91
138
The question of why Pakistan and its ISI would want to support the Khalistani
insurgency seems quite straightforward, either it genuinely thought that Punjab would
secede from India,92 or, probably more realistically, because it could use the promotion of
terrorism in India as a deterrent for supposed covert Indian involvement in Pakistani
trouble zones93 and/or as leverage over other aspects of Indo-Pakistan relations. Clearly
whatever Pakistan’s motives were in this respect, it is hard to deny ‘political and military
competition with India is the centre piece of Pakistan’s foreign policy’, and has been almost
since partition/independence, therefore covertly encouraging conflict in Indian Punjab
would be consistent with this posture (Lavoy 2005: 49).
Apart from Pakistan, some scholars have also suggested that the US, and its CIA,
were involved in instigating the rise of Sikh secessionism (Chopra 1984, Dang 1987, 1988).
Unlike with Pakistan, there does not appear to be any hard evidence of US involvement,
only hearsay. Such ‘evidence’ includes senior US Congressman such as Jesse Helms and
Dan Burton admitting to being pro-Khalistani,94 with Burton even attempting to lobby the
US Congress to cut development aid to India owing to its human rights abuses in Punjab.
However, as Robin Jeffrey remarks, such lobbying ‘is a long way from official US support
for “Khalistan”’ (Jeffrey 1986: 151).
Assuming that US involvement did occur, in terms of when it chose to follow such a
policy is difficult to answer. However it is fair to say that the US has historically expressed
a large tilt towards Pakistan in its subcontinental foreign policy.95
As far as discerning a reason as to why the US, or at least certain elements within
its political administration, may have wanted to see India suffer the potential loss of
Punjab—Gopal Singh writes, ‘it suits imperialism if a third world country like India gets
92
In which case, this would not only be a massive loss for its adversarial neighbour in
its own right but also that India’s vital Gurdaspur link road to Kashmir would also be cut off.
93
In ‘1987, Gen. Zia [was] reported to have told India that if she wanted a declaration
from Pakistan about its not interfering in Punjab, then India would have to declare that it would
not play the Sindhu Desh (Sind[h]) or Pashtoonistan cards’ (Prakash 2008: 579).
94
95
Such support had been expressed most evocatively through the Nixon
Administration’s historic decision to send its Seventh Fleet TF-74 into the Bay of Bengal during
the 1971 Indo-Pakistan War.
139
destabilized because these forces are unhappy with India for the role it has been playing in
Non-Alignment Movement’ (1994: 92). While the United States were perturbed by India’s
decision to pursue independent development as opposed to succumbing to an economic or
military alliance/reliance with the ‘leader of the free world’, many Indian scholars have
perhaps been guilty of overplaying their country’s sense of strategic and political
importance within United States foreign policy.
Overall, it appears that there are credible grounds for suggesting that a subversive
foreign hand prompted the rise of the Khalistan movement (though the case for Pakistani
involvement is far more palpable than the one for the United States). Regardless of the level
of malign foreign involvement in the Khalistan insurgency, it is difficult to deny that the
lion’s share of the problems in Punjab were attributable to those far closer to home. As one
Sikh Brigadier of the Indian Army aptly put it, and thereby supporting the ‘geo-political
environment’ factor within the ethno-national conflict literature (see Chapter 1: 41): ‘Why
blame anyone else if one can’t look after one’s own house? In world politics others will take
advantage of what is happening in India’ (quoted in Kundu 1994: 57).
140
Map 6 Proposed Map of Khalistan (Speculative)
Source: Gopal Singh 1994: 110
141
Map 7 Proposed Map of Khalistan (Less Speculative)
Source: Gopal Singh 1994: 111
Conclusion
This chapter has discussed, and critically assessed, the existing recognised contributory
factors within the Khalistan movement literature. It can be seen that many of the factors
mentioned in the ethno-national conflict sub-section of the previous chapter (see Chapter 1:
31-47) can be, and have been, applied in the Punjab context, albeit with some variations.
Other factors however, namely those event-related ones, are unique to the Khalistan
movement, such as Operation Blue Star and the anti-Sikh pogroms. Irrespective of whether
these factors are transposable to other cases or unique to this, it is clear that all carry
142
considerable explanatory value (albeit some more so than others). Therefore, from the
perspective of this study it would be wise to utilise, directly or indirectly, each of these—
something which the devised theoretical framework, through its appreciation of contextual
conditions, should be capable of achieving. Nevertheless, it must also be stressed that none
of the cited factors can be considered emphatic in terms of its ability to explain why, when
and how the Khalistan movement arose. As such, it can be authoritatively concluded at
this stage that there remains scope for additional factors in this body of literature to be
advanced, including the study’s original ‘refugee arrival’ hypothesis, so as to help formulate
a better understanding of this case, and perhaps others like it around the world.
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Chapter 3: Sikh History as an Ideological Basis for
Khalistan
Introduction
Many of the established Sikh militant cells, especially after 1991, consisted largely of petty
criminal elements. However, it should not be assumed therefore that the entire Khalistan
movement had, from its onset, been devoid of ideological basis. The very idea that any
ethno-nationalist struggle can emerge, and mobilise tens of thousands of people in an
armed conflict against a vastly superior opponent, without some measure of
‘transcendental’ motive seems highly improbable (Mitra 1995: 62). It will be contended in
this chapter that, though this study intends to establish whether the arrival of Sikh refugees
(see Chapter 5) helped explain the rise of the Khalistan movement, much of the ideological
basis for separatism can be attributed to the reading of Sikh history prior to 1947. Needless
to say, the vast majority of this period cannot be considered as ‘mere’ history, nor, strictly
speaking, does it fall within the scope of living memory. Rather, present-day consciousness
of events spanning this long epoch to constitute, what Halbwachs (1980) aptly described as,
‘historical memory’.1
Acutely aware that the vast majority of their co-religionists remain unconvinced at
the rationality behind the pursuit of independence, many Khalistanis have tended to hold
and espouse a particular view of the Sikhs’ past ‘in ways not [necessarily] historically
inaccurate, but obviously more reflective of contemporary sensitivities and political
alignments than past realities’ (La Brack 1999: 382). Indeed it can be argued that this has
been fundamental to the success of their political demand, since ‘we experience our present
in a context which is causally connected with past events and objects’ (Connerton 1989: 2).
This Khalistani historical memory has essentially attempted to articulate three main
1
This is essentially a fusion between the institutes of collective memory on the one
hand and conventional history on the other. Namely that, as with the former of these, it pertains
to the ‘memory-like’ manifestations that a group possesses over its history, except that, as with
the latter, it acquires this exclusively through historical representations as opposed to through
any first-hand lived experience of its group members.
144
contentions. The first is that the Sikhs hold a legitimate claim to nationhood, and therefore
are within their rights to demand their own nation-state (Section I). The second is that
Khalistan is not only a preferable solution to the status quo, but is needed for the very
survival of the Sikhs as a distinct people (Section II). The third, and final, contention is that
independence is actually attainable as a goal (Section III).
I. Right to Nationhood
In common with many other ethno-nationalists globally, particularly those of a
primordialist persuasion (see Chapter 1: 23-26), most Khalistanis tend to view their
people’s right to separate nationhood as deriving from more than mere modern political
circumstances but rather one that is ‘rooted and validated by history’.2 This has been
displayed with reference to the formation of the Khalsa and the Sikh Empire under
Maharajah Ranjit Singh.
Formation of Khalsa
From what can be discerned, it seems that a significant proportion of Khalistanis have
tended to equate Guru Gobind Singh’s establishment of the Khalsa Dal at Anandpur
Sahib, on Baisakhi 1699, with the birth of the Sikh qaum.3 Joyce Pettigrew discloses in her
book, The Sikhs of the Punjab, that, from the numerous interviews she had conducted with
Khalistani militants, ‘all…believed Sikhs to be a nation as from 1699’ (1995: 32). While it
would be naïve to assume that such a belief is exclusive only to ‘Khalistani’ Sikhs, it does
appear that one’s national allegiance holds a large sway over interpretation of this
2
Clearly, the view that Sikhs constitute a separate nation is by no means restricted to
Khalistanis or even Akalis, rather many other Sikhs share this assessment also. The crucial
difference being that the latter group deem that Sikh nationhood can be accommodated, and
operate harmoniously, within the wider Indian state (Grewal 2005: 298).
3
Guru Gobind Singh called upon volunteers from his congregation at Anandpur Sahib
to sacrifice their lives for the dharma. In total, only five men (Panj Payare), belonging to
different caste backgrounds, offered to give their lives at the Guru’s request and entered into an
adjacent tent to meet, what they thought would be, their deaths. As it transpired, the Guru had
never intended of kill any of these men; rather the pronouncement was merely a test of the
congregation’s faith in him. The Panj Payare became the first Sikhs to be initiated into the
Khalsa by partaking pahul provided for by the Guru himself.
145
watershed event. In demonstration of this point, in 1946, two men that were attempting to
make the case for a separate Sikh state in the Punjab, Gurbachan Singh and Lal Gyani,
suggested in consonance with their Khalistani contemporaries decades later,4 that, ‘history
shows that the Sikhs were conceived as a nation—the Khalsa—by Guru Gobind Singh, and
have acted and organised themselves as such throughout the two and a half centuries of
their history’ (1946: 28-29).
Regarding the Khalsa Dal’s formation, it seems that there are two main reasons for
why the Sikh nation can be judged to have been born at this point. The first is that Guru
Gobind Singh was supposed to have declared to the Panj Payare, upon their baptism into
the Khalsa (and therefore a statement applicable to any subsequently baptised Sikh), that,
[f]rom now on, you have become casteless. No ritual, either Hindu or Muslim, will
you perform and believe in superstition of no kind, but only in the one God who is
the Master and Protector of all, the only Creator and Destroyer. In your new order,
the lowest will rank equal with the highest and each will be to the other a bhai. No
pilgrimages for you any more, nor austerities but the pure life of the household,
which you should be ready to sacrifice at the call of dharma (quoted in Sangat Singh
1973: 71-72).
This newly found ‘casteless’ creed of the Khalsa, arguably transformed its members into an
internally homogenous unit also—for many a key component of a cultural nation.5 The
second main reason was the specific Khalsa form that these Sikhs were supposed to adopt
(the 5K’s)—giving this body of people a visual difference also.
However Khalistani stalwarts, as will become increasingly apparent throughout this
chapter, hardly hold a monopoly over Sikh historical memory and arguably those holding
pro-India sensibilities have also tended to place their own slant on this event. Though few
would deny that Guru Gobind Singh envisioned a casteless Khalsa Dal, it is not lost on
4
Jaswinder Singh in Pettigrew 1995: 167.
Gurbachan Singh and Gyani speak for many modern day Khalistanis when they say,
that ‘a Sikh…when he gets converted to Sikhism, vows to renounce his previous ancestry, his
lineal ties, his caste and his previous faith. Thus he becomes member of a new nation, the
Khalsa, and lives and acts as such’ (1946: 31).
5
146
those wishing to deny the Khalistani viewpoint that despite the evident caste blindness of
their Gurus, the reality is that the majority of Sikhs, in practice, have not at any stage
during their history abolished such differences.6 Actually one could go as far as to say that
casteism is often rifer within Sikh ranks than in Hindu. According to Massa Singh, a
Mazhabi Sikh rikshawala from Amritsar,
[t]hey say there’s no caste [in Sikh ranks] but there’s still this [casteist] feeling
inside…otherwise why are there so many gurdwaras?...In any one village…you will
have a different Chamar Sikh gurdwara…a Mazhabi Sikh gurdwara…and Jat
Sikh[s have] their gurdwara…Also one other thing, when they [are] burning the
bodies during cremations, they have separate sites for us…you see…If there is no
caste, then why these Jats don’t give their daughters [in marriage] for our sons?7
Yet, when asked about their caste background, all of the Khalistanis interviewed (see Table
6) stated words to the effect that they ‘did not believe in caste’. Although it would not be
fair to accuse any of the respondents of being disingenuous, it is likely that at least some of
them had succumbed to a degree of ‘impression management’ (Goffman 1959: 208). For its
plausible that many such people believed that presenting a united front, as the religious
communities of India tended to do during the colonial era (Jalal 2000: 41), would
strengthen not only their claim to constitute a wholly distinct religious identity from that of
the Hindus8 but also their bargaining position vis-à-vis New Delhi.9 Nevertheless, one
Referring to the ‘conversion’ of Hindus to Sikhism in the late eighteenth century,
British traveller George Forster writes: ‘They [those recent entrants into the Khalsa] still
preserve the distinctions which originally marked their sects and perform many of the ancient
ceremonies of their nation. They form matrimonial connections only in their own tribes, and
adhere implicitly to the rules prescribed by the Hindoo law, in the choice and preparation of
their food’ (1798: 270-271).
7
Interview with Massa Singh. Amritsar, 20 September 2010.
8
As observed by Paramjit Judge, ‘the articulation of religious identity always involves
the blurring of heterogeneity that exists within it in terms of class and, in the context of India,
caste’ (2005: 78). Also many Khalistanis have tried to project the Sikh faith as ‘diametrically
opposed’ to Hinduism, and as such the casteless creed of the Sikhs contrasts with that of the
‘caste-ridden’ Hindus. In a pamphlet entitled ‘Document of the Declaration of Khalistan’, it
says, ‘the singular aim of Brahminism is to exterminate the Sikh religion root and branch
because the Sikh religion is inimical to the Brahminical principles of caste-system’ (quoted in
Gopal Singh 1994: 208).
6
147
Khalistani leader from the Dal Khalsa perhaps strayed from his party line when he
conceded that caste (or ‘Brahminism’ as he calls it) remains a problem for his community:
It’s also still there [within Sikh ranks]…Brahminism…but even if you go to
Pakistan, there’s a Jat in Pakistan, a Muslim, who says ‘I am the big person’…so
the same thing is happening there also…so the caste system has not gone
away…because Brahminism has a very very deep root…it’s a cancer, cancer, the
Brahmin is the cancer of South Asia…Even the Christians, although they may not
admit it, but they are also [casteist]…it doesn’t matter whether they are in Pakistan
or India, I know because I have links with the whole [South Asian] community
[emphasis added].10
Though it is plain from the above evidence that ‘the Sikhs are not a unified, homogenous
group’ (Chima 1994: 850), it would be unfair to refute the Khalistani claim to a separate
nationality simply upon this reason alone considering that few states, if any, are completely
ethnically uniform (Horowitz [1985] 2000: 3).
Regarding the issue of the Khalsa’s visual difference, many critics could easily
deem it an inadequate basis for separate nationhood since substantial portions of the Sikh
populace in Punjab (and hence would-be Khalistani citizens) do not maintain these tenants.
Even those that typically fall within the Keshdhari category of Sikh are often not baptised
(i.e. they are not Amritdhari), trim their beards or fail to keep all of the 5K’s—which, from a
purist perspective, suggests that they are guilty of corrupting the true Khalsa form as
envisioned by Guru Gobind Singh. Whether such people should be treated as lesser
nationals or non-Sikhs altogether is a matter of opinion among the more religiously zealous
Khalistani elements. In further detriment to the argument that the 5K’s give the Sikhs a
claim to separate nationhood, Aridaman Singh Dhillon, remarks that
In 1960, a then advocate for the creation of a Punjabi suba, wrote that ‘the State [of
India] must deal with [the Sikhs] as one people, and not by atomising them into individual
citizens’ (Gurnam Singh 1960: 17).
10
9
148
Guru Gobind Singh, when he created the Khalsa…never ordained every Sikh must join…he
knew that his predecessor Gurus had created this religion for the worldly man…the
family man, not just for the soldier…Before he died he bestowed Guruship upon the Guru
Granth Sahib…while he added the bani of the ninth Guru [Teg Bahadur] in it, he never
added his own bani to it, that is a very crucial point…Why didn’t he add it? Because the
central idea of his bani was entirely different…[it was] marital…but the bani of the
ninth Guru was akin to the central idea of the first five Gurus…had he wanted all the
Sikhs to take up the Khalsa form then he should have added his own bani also in
it…Secondly, many hukumnamas of the Gurus have survived and a book has been
published by the Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee containing all those
hukumnamas, in none at all is there any ordain of Guru Gobind Singh for the Sikhs
to join the Khalsa Dal, this is all nonsense…created by Master Tara Singh, and
continued by the later Akali politicians including the present [Parkash Singh]
Badal, because they know that whosever takes this form and partakes amrit, he is a
pukka Akali, he will be their blind supporter [emphasis added].11
Sikh Empire
Even for those few Khalistanis that do not subscribe to the view that the Sikhs became a
separate nation at Anandpur Sahib in 1699, and/or hold this event as inadequate historical
grounds for the pursuit of independence, consider that their people constituted a nation
during the period of the Sikh Empire, 1801-1849 (Sekhon and Dilgeer 1999: 1, Sihra 1985:
55). Once again there appears to be a great deal of overlap between the Khalistani and
mainstream Sikh interpretations here, after all some of the most celebrated scholars in Sikh
studies, whose seminal works have become reference points for many subsequent
historians, have spoken in terms of ‘Sikhs as a nation’ during this period (Malcolm 1812: 3,
Cunningham [1849]1918: 1). Although it must be said that the application of the term
‘nation’ was, during the nineteenth century, used interchangeably with that of ‘race’ (Smith
1997: 10), and therefore the ‘continuity of a term…does not automatically mean a
continuity in the meaning of that term’ (Breuilly 2005: 22).
The Sikh Empire was established by Ranjit Singh, who had managed to
amalgamate the hitherto factionalised, and occasionally warring, Sikh misls across the
11
149
plains of Punjab into a singular entity (Gopal Singh 2002: 181, Kaur 1994: 24). At its
largest extent, the empire’s expanse spanned as far west as the Khyber Pass and to the
borders with Tibet in the east (Jeffrey 1986: 41). It included many of the components,
objective or otherwise, associated with an archetypal nation-state (Hobsbawm 1992: 5-6,
Brass 1991: 18-19), ranging from foreign embassies, towards the striking of coins in the
name of the ruler etc. As such for many Khalistanis, their historical memory of the Sikh
Empire stands as testimony to the ‘naturalness’ of Sikh nationhood which, in their
estimation, is in stark contrast to what they contemptuously refer to as ‘artificial India’.12
Nevertheless this Khalistani interpretation has not remained immune from
criticism. The eminent Sikh historian and political scientist, Gopal Singh, indicates that it is
erroneous to regard the Sikh Empire as validating contemporary secessionist claims, since
‘one has to distinguish between an “empire” and a “modern nation state”’ (1994: 120).
Though he is technically correct to point out that the Sikh Empire was not a nation-state as
such, at least by the modern interpretation of the term, it would be difficult to deny that
there exists a deep-rooted precedence (in no less place than in the continent where the
Treaty of Westphalia was drawn up—Europe), whereby modern nations have emerged as
corollaries from prior empires or principalities. So clearly, unless Gopal Singh and others
who share his stance in this regard were willing to denounce the legitimacy of nations such
as France and Austria for being the main successor states to the Napoleonic and Hapsburg
Empires respectively, then surely it would be prejudicial against Khalistanis to suggest that
the former Sikh Empire, and their historical memory of it, does not afford them credible
grounds to pursue independence.
12
During interviews conducted with Khalistanis, many respondents expressed views
similar to that of Chauhan, namely: ‘What is this Bharat? It has never existed in history, it is
merely a creation of the British’ (quoted in Satinder Singh 1982: 155). Another reason usually
cited for the supposed ‘artificial’ nature of India concerns its multi-linguistic composition,
which allegedly makes it home to many nations. Ironically such assessments are synonymous
with those of British imperialists such as Sir John Strachey who, presumably trying to justify
the existence and extension of the Raj, wrote that, ‘the first and most essential thing to learn
about India—[is that] there is not and never was an India, or even any country of India,
possessing, according to European ideas, any sort of unity, physical, political, social or
religious: no Indian nation, no “people of India”, of which we hear so much’ (1888: 5).
150
Also many non-Khalistanis dismiss the claim that the Sikh Empire, especially
under its founding and most illustrious ruler Maharajah Ranjit Singh, should be regarded
as a ‘Sikh’ state at all (Gopal Singh 1994: 120). Based on many historical interpretations
(Nehru 1946: 298, Sahota 1971: 92, Grewal 1999: 45), it appears that the Maharajah did
indeed hold a tolerant and inclusive attitude towards the various religious groups within his
state.13 However, rather than completely expunge this detail from their historical memory
many Khalistanis have tended to view the secular nature of the Sikh Empire as an asset
rather than as a weakness when trying to convince other Sikhs, especially those
maintaining warm relations with Hindu Punjabis, about the merits of their demand.14 In
this respect, political Khalistanis such as Jagjit Singh Chauhan,15 Ranjit Singh Srai16 and
Kanwarpal Singh,17 have, to their credit, given the impression that they wished to see a
constitutionally secular Sikh majority nation rather than a theocratic one—though clearly
such views are by no means unanimously endorsed by all Khalistanis.18
Another reproach, albeit quite veiled, made by Harjot Oberoi (1987: 29) is that
much of the territory that most Khalistanis wish to see made independent, such as southeast of the river Sutlej, did not actually constitute part of the Sikh Empire. As such, a cynic
13
So much so that he had a Hindu Dogra PM as well as many other non-Sikhs serving
in senior ministerial posts (Dang 1988: 46, Duggal 1992: 20).
14
However, it must be noted that from a Tat Khalsa interpretation of Sikhism, Ranjit
Singh’s secular nature could easily be construed as crossing over into the sacrilegious
‘Hinduized’ realm, since he is known to have ‘adopted rites and rituals of Brahminism’,
worshipped at Hindu mandirs, bathed in the Ganga, forbade cow-slaughter and made a dying
wish to offer the famous Koh-i-noor diamond to Jagannath Puri as opposed to Harmandir Sahib
(Khushwant Singh 1984: 4, Kaur 1994: 25, Gopal Singh 2002: 181). Needless to say these
aspects of his character have been readily purged by Khalistanis.
15
‘When they [the Sikhs] ruled there was no religious persecution of either Muslims or
Hindus, there is no reason for the Punjabi Hindu to imagine that he cannot live in Khalistan.
There is no question of wanting them to leave, we want them to stay’ (quoted in Sahota and
Sahota 1993: 121).
16
17
18
According to a pamphlet produced by the ‘National Council of Khalistan’, dated 26
January 1984, despite claiming that in Khalistan ‘the followers of other religions will be free to
protect, profess and practice their religion in a peaceful way’, other parts make less promising
reading for prospective minorities: ‘[the state] shall not be allowed to show any disrespect to
Shri Guru Granth Sahib and to falsify the Sikh principles and tenets, traditions of the Khalsa
Panth and other aspects related with the Sikh religion. The forces spreading idol worship,
superstition, illusions, atheism etc., shall not be allowed to raise their heads at all’ [emphasis
added] (quoted in Gopal Singh 1994: 321).
151
could conceivably say that when making the claim for independence it suits the Khalistani
line to evoke a historical memory of the Sikh Empire, but when justifying the territorial
remit of the proposed state suddenly ‘other factors’ attain value. A potential Khalistani
retort to such a view would be to say that the inclusion of Malwa territory in their state,
apart from the fact it included many Sikh-ruled principalities (albeit non-aligned to the Sikh
Empire), is of mild compensation for the huge tracts of former Sikh imperial territory that
the ‘Hinduized’ Indian National Congress ‘surrendered’ to the Muslim League in 1947.19
A particularly rigorous criticism, albeit one which has not received much scholarly
attention, is that Khalistanis have evidently succumbed to a large degree of ‘selective
amnesia’ by virtually dismissing their association with, or at least, in a similar vein to the
attitude of certain Zionists toward the Arab population inside British Mandate Palestine
prior to the creation of Israel (Gordon 1916: 244), minimising the significance of, other
entities that existed across ‘Punjabi’20 territory before and after the period of the Sikh
Empire.21 Even if we are to grant Khalistanis the right to demand a separate nation-state
across the Punjab in light of their historical memory of the Sikh Empire, then surely the
subcontinent’s Muslims, through their symbolic association with the Mughal Empire,22 or
19
Unsurprisingly Khalistanis perpetually avoid claim to these now Pakistani territories
(see Chapter 2: 137), and that for reasons of simple realpolitik—namely that its proponents
realise that for Khalistan to have even the remotest chance of materialising it would need the
political and logistical support of Pakistan.
20
The popular understanding of what constitutes, territorially speaking, ‘Punjab’ has not
remained the same throughout time. The term, of Persian origin, was first used to describe, and
was synonymous with, the Mughal province of Lahore during the reign of Akbar (Grewal 1990:
1). It was only much later that it was used to describe the entire plain from the Indus through to
the Sutlej, and even later still in the colonial period before ‘Punjab’ came to include territories
between the Sutlej and the Yamuna. On the eve of partition, British Punjab was split between
Pakistan and India. Both ‘Punjabs’ included princely state territory. The princely states in Indian
Punjab were amalgamated into PEPSU in 1948, which existed as a separate entity from Punjab
state (after 1950 this did not include the Himachal union territory). PEPSU and Punjab were
united into one entity in 1956, before being divided in 1966 into Sikh majority Punjab and
Hindu majority Haryana (with some territories in the north of hitherto pre-1966 Punjab state
merging with the Himachal union territory thereby forming the new state of Himachal Pradesh).
As such, there are now two ‘Punjabs’ in existence, one in Pakistan, and a much smaller one in
India.
21
Indeed, according to Jeffrey Olick, ‘forgetting alternative possible stories and
alternate possible identifications—is at the heart of national self-understanding’ (1998: 377).
22
While the vast majority of Muslims in India descend from Hindu converts or at least
have ‘Hindu blood’ (for it must remembered that, even for those Muslims who claim have
Arabic, Persian or Central Asian heritage, ‘few invaders, if any, brought wives with them, and
152
Hindus, Buddhists and Jains through their association with the Mauryan Empire, have
legitimate grounds for making counter-claims when in all such cases the ‘land of five the
rivers’ formed an integral part of these empires (Grewal 1990: 3). Perhaps a Khalistani
counterpoise to this point, would be to say that the Muslims already attained their portion
of the Punjab (in Pakistan), and the Hindus also, in respect of Haryana and Himachal
Pradesh.23
In what appears to help guard against the retort that the Sikh Empire was just one
of many such entities that existed across the plains of Punjab throughout its illustrious precolonial history, Khalistanis have tended to place a great deal of emphasis upon how Sikh
rule came to be replaced by that of the British. In this regard, what others in their
community tend to either be ignorant of, or dismiss as a mere technicality, Khalistanis
claim that Punjab was not annexed by the British but rather taken in ‘trust’ as a temporary
arrangement (Sadhu Singh 1946: 82, Chauhan quoted in Sahota and Sahota 1993: 118-119,
Sekhon and Dilgeer 1999: 1). Such a view not only lessens the stigma attached to ‘military
defeat’ at the hands of the British,24 but also gives contemporary Khalistanis the right to
‘true custodianship’ over Punjab as ‘natural justice would assume that the departing colonial
power would at least put the Sikhs in the same position as they were when they first [took]
Punjab’.25 Ironically, this serves as a rare instance whereby an ethno-nationalist group has
attempted to demonstrate their claim over a territory on the basis of a ‘who was there last’
logic as opposed to ‘who was there first’ (see Chapter 1: 48-49).
In summary, it would appear that Khalistanis have adequate historical grounds for
demanding the creation of a separate Sikh nation-state, though clearly these are not as
most of those settled in their conquered domains acquired local women’), this body of people
have, for the most part, amalgamated ‘their’ history with that of the Islamic invaders/settlers
(Khushwant Singh 1963: 13).
23
This is despite the fact that the vast majority of the population in Haryana and
Himachal Pradesh have never been ‘Punjabi’ speaking, nor did most of its people ever consider
themselves as Punjabi—according to Hugh Trevaskis, writing in the 1920s, ‘though the British
province of that name [Punjab] now extends from the Indus to the Jamuna, the peasants of the
outlying districts of Rohtak, Kangra or Mianwali [then districts of British Punjab but now part
of Haryana and Himachal Pradesh] will still refer to the Punjab as another country’ (1928: 8).
24
According to Kirpal Sihra, ‘the Sikhs never surrendered their ultimate sovereignty to
any power other than their own’ (1985: 55).
25
153
strong as many Khalistanis would like to believe nor are they as weak as pro-Indian
elements would hope. Of course, the creation of the Khalsa or the prior existence of the
Sikh Empire are not the only components in the Khalistani argument that Sikhs have a
‘right to nationhood’26 but, as far as their interpretation and use of pre-1947 historical
memory is concerned, these appear to be the main ones.
II. Khalistan as Preferable/Needed
Although Khalistanis have seemingly legitimate grounds for believing in their people’s right
to separate nationhood, clearly the existence and articulation of this ‘right’ alone has not
been sufficient enough to obtain large-scale Sikh support for their demand. As such they
have been obliged to demonstrate, through the use of examples from Sikh history, that
secession is not only a preferable solution to the present but also one that is needed. In this
matter Khalistanis have tended to state (or at least insinuate), first, that Sikh rule is bound
to be just;27 and second, that the Hindus, in particular the Brahmins, are intent upon
destruction of the Sikh faith.
Sikh Rule as Just
In addition to its use in demonstrating their right to nationhood, the ‘ethnocentric’ (Sumner
1906: 12-13) historical memory of the Sikh Empire serves, from a Khalistan perspective, to
‘prove’ that Sikh rule is guaranteed to be fair and moral. Admittedly both Khalistanis and
mainstream Sikhs have tended to share a complimentary and overlapping view of the Sikh
26
Other arguments include; first, regular reference is made to the daily prayer that Sikhs
are supposed to recite—the ardas, which includes the verse ‘Raj Karega Khalsa’, which
roughly translates as ‘the Khalsa shall rule’; second, the existence of the miri-piri doctrine
allegedly makes Sikhs unable to subordinate themselves to any temporal rule other than their
own; third, the linguistic unity of the Sikhs both in terms of spoken Punjabi and written
Gurumukhi; fourth, their cultural association to the territory of Punjab; and fifth, their
demographical majority within Punjab.
27
According to the then leader of the KCF, Wassan Singh Zaffarwal: ‘Whatever
government we set up in Khalistan will have to be based on the principles of Sikhism as
contained in the bani. We will not create a society where one human being is poor and sleeping
on the street and his neighbour is in a palace or luxurious building. We shall eliminate any
remaining feudal or monopolist forces’ (quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 154). In a similar vein,
militant Anup Singh remarks: ‘It will be a long struggle for Khalistan, but in Khalistan there
will be no discrimination. Everyone will be equal’ (quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 173).
154
Empire in this regard, especially so in relation to the period of Maharajah Ranjit Singh’s
rule. According to the mainstream Sikh scholar, Khushwant Singh,
[w]ithin a short period of time Ranjit Singh convinced the people of Lahore and the
Punjab that he did not intend to set up a Sikh kingdom but a Punjabi state in which
Muslims, Hindus and Sikhs would be equal before the law and have the same rights
and duties (1963: 203).
Whereas Gurdarshan Singh Dhillon, who despite ‘not officially coming out’ as a
Khalistani, would on most other issues be on a fairly divergent poles of the political
spectrum from that of Khushwant Singh, holds a convergent view of Ranjit Singh’s rule:
During his reign, there were no outburst of communal fanaticism, no forced
conversions, no attempts at bloody revenge, no language tensions, no second class
citizens, no repression, no bloodsheds, no executions and no tortures (1996: 31).
While it can be argued that Ranjit Singh was a highly progressive ruler for his time, there
remain a few criticisms that can be levelled against the Khalistani contention that their
prospective nation-state is bound to be just and moral simply on this ‘historical fact’
alone.28 First, as mentioned earlier, casteism is still an issue within Sikh ranks, and there is
no evidence to suggest that caste differences were eliminated (over even subsided) during
Ranjit Singh’s rule.29 Second, simply because the Maharajah was a tolerant ruler that does
not necessarily connote that all Sikh rulers, and much less so the Sikhs involved in the
administration of a political entity, are destined to be ‘morally superior’ to their non-Sikh
28
The postulation that history of the Sikh Empire rule proves Khalistan is bound to be
run fairly is voiced by self-proclaimed Khalistani, Harpal Singh: ‘[B]ecause we are a product of
our religion. In our prayers we ask God to take care of everybody. Good food for everybody, a
good life for everybody. Not just for Sikhs. You know the Sikh kingdom of Ranjit Singh. He
loved Hindus, Muslims, Christians’ (quoted in Mahmood 1996: 133).
29
Perhaps the most effective way of eradicating caste difference/identity would be
through intermarriage across caste lines. This would also have contributed towards the creation
of a distinctive hybrid race, thereby giving the Sikh ethnic-nation far more substantive basis
than it holds currently (see Chapter 1: 24, 30).
155
counterparts.30 Finally, not all aspects in their communal history are necessarily indicative
of the Sikhs’ supposed tolerant and righteous nature—such as the actions of the warrior
Banda Bahadur, who took over the political reigns of the Khalsa after Guru Gobind Singh’s
passing. Though much adorned by many Sikhs (though clearly not all)31 and Hindu
Punjabis alike, it is alleged that Banda forcibly displaced Muslim zamindars and that his
‘savagery’ served to ‘harden the hearts of the Muslim peasants and made them as anti-Sikh
as the government’ (Khushwant Singh 1963: 118-119).
Hindu Threat
Apart from their pre-1947 historical memory serving to demonstrate that Sikh rule in the
present is bound to be just (and thus preferable), many Khalistanis have gone a step further
in actually trying to convey the view that it is needed for the very survival of the Sikhs as a
distinct people. The underlying contention being that Hindus, in particular the Brahmins32
and to a lesser extent the Banias,33 abhor the Sikh faith and are intent upon destroying it.
Hence the establishment of Khalistan would serve as a necessary safeguard against this illintentioned bunch.
30
This myth of innate Sikh moral righteousness is one that even certain Hindus appear
to have appropriated, such as Dipankar Gupta who said, when writing in reference to a
particular set of anti-Hindu killings in Punjab towards the end of the militant movement, that
‘[t]his is not the work of Sikhs. Sikhs do not kill unarmed innocent people. In all likelihood this
is the job of the government or of Pakistani agents’ [emphasis added] (1992: 233).
31
‘There is…a distinct hint of ambivalence as far as Banda is concerned, for there are
features of his personal belief and life-style that have not been fully assimilated…[D]uring his
brief ascendancy within the Panth there evidently developed disputes concerning the true nature
of the Khalsa, with Banda adopting attitudes that conflict with the orthodox view of the Khalsa’
(McLeod 1992: 351).
32
Being the highest caste among the Hindus, largely devoid of the martial qualities
associated with certain other castes in Punjab, since the targets of ethnic resentment are
commonly ‘the group perceived as farthest up the ethnic status hierarchy that can be most surely
subordinated through ethnic/national violence’ (2002: 40). In demonstration of such resentment,
we can observe the words of one Khalistani militant, ‘the enemies are the…Brahmins. They are
like a snake, whenever they get an opportunity they will sting you’ (Beant Singh quoted in
Pettigrew 1995: 176)
33
Sukhwinder Singh Gora quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 159.
156
Guru Period
Although the spirit of universalism seemed to have been a core principle of the first Guru,
Nanak Dev,34 it is fair to say that in the eyes of a considerable portion of Sikhs, ‘Muslims
are [regarded as] the traditional enemies of the Khalsa’ (McLeod 1992: 359). Such a
perception is hardly surprising given that, during the period of the Delhi Sultanate and for
certain phases during the Mughal Empire (especially so under Aurangzeb),35 Sikhs were
subject to a range of attacks, whether in terms of the martyrdom of their Gurus36 and their
relations,37 large-scale massacring of their followers, demolishment of their holy sites38 etc.
However, to uphold such a historical recollection in its prevalent form would hardly be of
much practical use for Khalistanis who evidently (as mentioned earlier) wish to enjoy
friendly relations, and support, from Muslim majority Pakistan. Therefore Khalistanis have
in effect, whether consciously or subconsciously, sought to salvage this period of Sikh
history by interpreting it in such a way so as to make it politically ‘usable’.
In this regard, Khalistanis have attempted to highlight, where possible, acts of
‘Hindu treachery’ against the Sikhs. For instance, one detail of Sikh history which
Khalistanis habitually make reference to is that ‘Guru Gobind Singh fought his first battles
with Hindu hill rulers’.39 By contrast, arguably any conceivable traces of positive
interaction with the Muslims, such as the Sufi-saint Mian Mir laying the foundation stone
of the Harmandir Sahib or Shah Jahan’s eldest son Dara Shikoh being a devotee of Guru
Har Rai, are readily highlighted. While one cannot accuse Khalistanis of holding a
completely fabricated historical memory of events prior to 1947; it does appear to be the case
34
Demonstrating his breadth of vision, particularly at a time when religious tensions in
the north-western India were at near unprecedented levels, Guru Nanak Dev declared, ‘I salute
God, Who has no religion’ (quoted in Kanwarjit Singh 1989: 52).
35
According to Guru Teg Bahadur: ‘The former rulers of India were generally just, and
allowed the free exercise of their religion. But now Aurangzeb hath formed very evil designs
and seeketh to destroy the Hindu religion’ (quoted in Macauliffe 1958: 21).
36
Namely the fifth Guru, Arjan Dev, and the ninth Guru, Teg Bahadur.
37
Such as ordering the killing of Guru Gobind Singh’s two young sons, Zorawar Singh
and Fateh Singh, by way of being ‘bricked-alive’.
38
This included the Harmandir Sahib which ‘was blown up by the Afghan conqueror
Ahmed Shah Abdali many times’ (Khushwant Singh 1992: 21).
39
157
that, apart from being guilty of a large dose of ‘selective amnesia’,40 there has been a
general ‘skewing’ of the narrative whereby episodes of ‘Hindu treachery’ are given
disproportionately high attention. This has served to create the impression that Hindus, as
a collective, were somehow opposed to the Sikhs.
As far as the alleged motive(s) behind why Hindus were intent on finishing the
Sikhs, Khalistanis tend to reduce it down to the singular view that high caste Hindus could
not tolerate the anti-caste rhetoric espoused by the Gurus for it threatened their privileged
status in society.41 Khalistan supporter Dr Paramjit Singh Ajrawat suggests that
[t]he Hindus…always carried a love/hate relationship towards the Sikhs. They
loved them because the Sikhs were always willing to die for others, based on their
righteous religious ethos and commitment to correct principles of life. Yet they also
hated them because the Sikhs believed in the equality of all mankind and in one God,
which diametrically opposes the Hindu religious philosophy of multiple Gods and a
caste system [emphasis added].42
In fairness, even mainstream Sikhs have had a tendency to hold a similar view:
The rise of Khalsa, mainly taking converts from the low and middle class Hindus,
in the process making them self-assertive and militant, had made the upper class of
Hindus—mainly Brahmin, and clannish hill rulers etc., rabidly anti Sikh (Sangat
Singh 1973: 87).
40
For example, it is often overlooked that during the chota ghallughara in 1746, when
approximately 10,000 Sikhs were on the cusp of being killed by the Mughals, the Hindu citizens
of Lahore ‘offered all their wealth in exchange for sparing their lives’—though this brave
gesture ultimately proved to be in vain (Dang 1988: 46). Also Khalistanis have a tendency to
ignore the numerous instances in Sikh history whereby close family members of the Gurus, who
had an eye on usurping the Guruship for themselves, conspired against the Sikhs (Bhattacharya
1988: 104, 126, 134).
41
According to the Document on the Declaration of Khalistan, ‘the singular aim of
Brahminism is to exterminate the Sikh religion root and branch because the Sikh religion is
inimical to the Brahminical principles of caste-system’ (quoted Gopal Singh 1994: 208).
42
158
Although it is likely that many Brahmins were concerned about the prospect of Hindus
adopting the Sikh faith, the scale of this envy seems to have been exaggerated.43 After all,
Sikhs were not the only group espousing anti-caste rhetoric during this period, and
assuming this was really the sole motivation behind acts of Hindu treachery, then it begs
the question of why they sided with the Mughal rulers? Bearing in mind the latter, who
being Muslims by faith, were also ‘officially’ anti-caste and who drew, whether by
persuasion or coercion, far more converts from the Hindus than the ever Sikhs managed.
Furthermore, it must be remembered that possibly the two most infamous anti-Sikh Hindu
elements during this period—the brothers Jaspat and Lakhpat Rai—were not Brahmins but
Khatris, the same caste as that of the Sikh Gurus. Therefore it seems slightly illogical as to
why they would object to a movement in which their fellow Khatris formed, in effect, the
de facto highest caste—of course, the answer being that their objection to the Sikhs were
probably more out of political and personal vindictive reasons rather than ideological.
While it has been alleged that Khalistanis have displayed a tendency to hold a
skewed version of early Sikh history in many respects, it is still difficult for such people to
evoke a ‘memory’ of this period without it generating, or reviving, a large degree of
resentment towards the Mughals.44 As such many Khalistanis have, where possible,
engaged in a clever use of symbolism in order to utilise their community’s bitter feelings
towards the Mughals as a weapon against their new enemy—the Hindus. This has been
achieved through means such as the relativizing of Mughal crimes with contemporary
‘Hindu’ ones45 as well as to continually refer to New Delhi as the Dilli Darbar (which was
According to one perspective, since ‘it is incompatible with [ones] self-esteem to
realize that he is waging a war of persecution’, a person hostile to out-groups, be it Hindus,
‘sometimes invents existence of a powerful and threating conspiracy at his own well-being’
(Bettelheim and Janowitz 1964: 138).
44
There are exceptions to the rule, with Khalistani militant Zaffarwal claiming: ‘A
distorted version of our history has been presented to us. Our troubles were always with the
Hindus, not the Muslims’ (quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 146).
45
Attempting to describe the perilous plight of the Sikhs in India, Bhindranwale
remarked that: ‘The Hindus are trying to enslave us; atrocities against the Sikhs are increasing
day by day under the Hindu imperialist rulers of New Delhi; the Sikhs have never felt so
humiliated, not even during the reign of the Moghul emperors and British colonialists. How
long can the Sikhs tolerate injustice?’ [emphasis added] (quoted in Nayar and Khushwant Singh
1984: 73). Bhindranwale once again attempting to relativize the Mughal/Muslim rule with the
43
159
often used as the capital of the Mughal Empire for much of its tenure). In illustration of this
latter point, the Sarbat Khalsa, an institution cynically revived to generate a rise in Sikh
national identity consciousness—tantamount to the ‘invented traditions’ spoken about by
Hobsbawm (1983), passed a resolution on 26 January 1986, which included the following
excerpt:
‘Brahmins’ and ‘Banias’ of India, by using power of the ‘Dilli Darbar’, have crushed
the Sikh principles, religious places and Sikh rights in the contemporary
society…and this tendency of the rulers of Dilli Darbar, to snatch away the rights of
the Sikhs, is still continuing (quoted in Gopal Singh 1994: 193).
Presumably the desired effect of this New Delhi-Dilli Darbar equation being that the Hindus
(in particular the ‘contemptuous’ Brahmins and Banias), by seeming to control power at the
centre, are the modern heirs of the Mughals and as such should assume culpability for all of
the latter’s anti-Sikh atrocities.
Colonial Period
At a considerable distance away from the Guru period, it seems as though there are a
couple of episodes during British colonial rule which have also been regularly used to
justify the Khalistani contention that Hindus are out to destroy the Sikhs.
One of these episodes, concerns the activities of the Hindu revivalists group, Arya
Samaj, across the Punjab during the late nineteenth century. It is alleged that the Arya
Samaj, founded by Swami Dayananda Saraswati and propagated further by Swami
Shraddhanand, with regards to their religious activism commenced a process of attacking
the Sikh faith, both implicitly and explicitly, through attempting to ‘reconvert’46 Sikhs into
present condition of the Sikhs: ‘The rulers should keep in mind that in the past many like them
did try in vain to annihilate our Gurus’ (quoted in Pettigrew 1987: 13)
46
This was done through reviving of the ancient practice of shuddhi which permitted
Hindus to reabsorb those who had earlier left the faith (Khushwant Singh 1984: 5, Kaur 1994:
29).
160
the Hindu fold and denigrate their Gurus.47 The general Sikh antipathy towards the Arya
Samajists as reflected in their historical memory of this period, is perhaps reinforced further
on account of the latter’s subsequent role in calling for the Hindus of Punjab to falsely
record Hindi as their mother-tongue on the censuses of 1951 and 1961 (Chima 1994: 851,
Narang 1986: 40).
Although it is clear that the Arya Samajists were by no means faultless in their
conduct during the late nineteenth century, it appears that there has been, for whatever
reason, a flagrant neglect of the context surrounding this episode by mainstream scholars
(Malik 1985: 33, Mahmood 1989: 333-334) and Khalistanis alike which has only served to
strengthen the latter’s claim that independence is needed.
First, it is all too conveniently forgotten that, having had limited success elsewhere
in India, Swami Dayananda Saraswati was invited to the Punjab in 1877 by a group of
Sikhs; and the Arya Samaj actually shared platforms with the Singh Sabha, a Sikh reformist
group, for many years following (Kapur 1986: 21-22). Indeed these two religious reformist
groups were united by more than just shared concerns over Christian missionary activity in
Punjab, with some members of the Singh Sabhas actually serving as members of Arya
Samaj and their proximity was such that Bhai Basant Singh told an audience in
Gujranwala that:
[t]he mission of Guru Nanak was simply to revive the Vedic religion of the ancient Rishis of
Arya Varta [the land of the Aryas], that this religion consisted of the worship of
one’s incarnate, invisible and omnipresent God, that it had become degenerated
and spoilt by ages of ignorance and oppression and that the evils which befell India
were the natural consequences of Indians’ forsaking the true faith of their
ancestors…[and Sikhism]…was simply a revival of the old Aryan faith and that the
unequal contest in which the Gurus were engaged was on behalf of the whole Arya
Varta and the Hindu nation [emphasis added] (quoted in Arya Patrika 1887).
47
Malik 1985: 33, Jodhka 1997: 277.
161
Second, on the issue of shuddhi, there has been much criticism over this practice—
with many interpreting it as unduly aggressive (Kapur 1986: 21, Gopal Singh 1987: 201,
Deol 2000: 94). In fairness, given that the Muslims, Christians and Sikhs throughout their
history in Punjab had always been open to acquiring new followers, it would appear
somewhat prejudicial to interpret the revival of shuddhi among this group of Hindus as an
aggressive turn. Moreover it is often conveniently ignored that, alongside the Arya Samaj,
the Singh Sabhas were also practising shuddhi with regards to those that had earlier defected
to Islam, with some even going to the extent of administering ‘pork-tests’ for those hitherto
Muslims (Jones 1973: 465). With regards to the controversy surrounding the Arya Samaj
attempts to convert Sikhs, clearly it was not part of a ‘grand plan’ to convert the Sikhs
whole-scale as certain scholars have seemed to insinuate48—rather it appears to stem from
one particular incident concerning a group of Mazhabi Sikhs in 1900. It must be understood
that it was only because the Singh Sabha, owing to its internal casteist prejudices, refused
to permit these group of ‘untouchables’ into the Sikh faith that the Arya Samajists
intervened and offered these Mazhabis the prospect of admission into the Hindu-fold
(Jones 1973: 469). Where it appears that these Arya Samajists can be accused of
aggressiveness and even gross misconduct, was the manner in which they chose to convert
these people—namely through publically shaving off their beards, which understandably
caused deep offence to Sikh sentiments.
Third, with regards to the issue surrounding the denigration of the Sikh Gurus, for
those that appear to have researched this issue in reasonable depth, there exist many
conflicting versions of what was supposed to have been said. Nevertheless assuming the
worst, it must be appreciated that by elevating the Vedas to a such position whereby it was
proclaimed as the only scripture of the Hindus worth its salt49 offended not only Sikhs but
48
According to Cynthia Mahmood, giving the impression that Arya Samaj attempts at
re-converting Sikhs were widespread, ‘most Sikhs decided to forego the opportunity to be repurified, which would have meant virtually losing their separate identity, and instead turned to
the all-Sikh political forum, already dominated by the more militant Khalsa Sikhs’ (1989: 334).
49
As such Saraswati regarded as all subsequent scriptures complied after the Vedas as a
denigration of the true Aryan religion (Kapur 1986: 20).
162
Sanatanist Hindus also (who constitute the bulk of the Hindu population across India)—so
much so, for the ‘grand Hindu conspiracy’ to destroy the Sikh faith.
Though the injection of context into this episode, may not necessarily serve to
eliminate the associated anti-Samajist/anti-Hindu feeling within Khalistani (and some
mainstream Sikh) ranks, it would undoubtedly serve to reduce its intensity. It is also a
useful point of note, aside from the commonly cited reasons, that it may have been as a
result of the sheer philosophical proximity between the Arya Samaj and the Sikhs that
frictions arose (see Chapter 1: 45-46). For those notable features that set Sikhs palpably
apart as a separate religion from the Sanatanist Hindus—the repudiation of caste,
promotion of gender equality, objection to idolatry, monotheism, and the 5K’s—are
eliminated in all but one with the Arya Samaj.
The other notable event in the colonial period that has been worthy of attention is
that of the Gurdwara Reform Movement, 1920-1925 (Kapur 1986: 43-45, Kaur 1994: 31,
Gopal Singh 2002: 182). Though many Khalistanis, such as Srai,50 are prepared to concede
this movement’s association with the wider Indian nationalist struggle,51 their historical
memory in this instance tends to lay emphasis upon the behaviour of the hereditary
mahants who manned these gurdwaras prior to their removal. These mahants, for all intents
and purposes, have been regarded as Hindus by present-day mainstream Sikhs and
Khalistanis alike, though the latter have viewed their alleged mismanagement of the
gurdwaras, and sanctioning of murtis within such premises, as proof that the Hindus are
intent upon destroying the Sikh faith—by ‘corrupting it from the inside’. According to a
driver from Ludhiana admitting to having mild Khalistani sensibilities:
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the Hindus have tried to liquidise the
Sikh faith…I mean why do you think the Gurdwara Reform Movement came up at
that time [in the 1920s]?...Can you believe that these Hindu priests [mahants] were
placing murtis next to the Sri Guru Granth Sahib?...Now believe me I’ve got
50
In demonstration of this point, Gandhiji sent a telegram to Baba Kharak Singh on 19
January 1922, which wrote: ‘The first decisive battle for independence won. Congratulations’
(quoted in Pritam Singh 2008: 30).
51
163
nothing against the Hindus or their religious practices, I’m not one of those people
that say praying to murtis is wrong, if Hindus want, then they should be able to do
so…I respect all religions, as Santji [Bhindranwale] once said a Sikh should be a
good Sikh, a Hindu a good Hindu, a Muslim a good Muslim…but what is wrong is
for Hindus to impose their practices inside our gurdwaras…now for this I can’t
tolerate.52
Based on the Gurus’ powerful renouncement of idolatry it is highly unlikely that Hindu
murtis were placed within gurdwaras during the early period of Sikh history, nevertheless
this supposed Hindu conspiracy to corrupt the purity of the Sikh faith seems slightly farfetched. For its debatable as to whether distinct watertight religious identities ever existed
prior to colonial rule. According to Oberoi:
In the early-nineteenth-century Punjab, hundreds of thousands of Hindus regularly
undertook pilgrimages to what were apparently Muslim shrines; vast numbers of
Muslims conducted part of their life-cycle rituals as if they were Hindus, and
equally, Sikhs attended Muslim and Hindu sacred spots (1994: 3-4).
As such the reasons for the placement of murtis in gurdwaras prior to 1920 could be
explained in a similar vein.
Overall, though Khalistanis may have attained, through the interpretation and
articulation of their historical memory, some moderate success in both conveying the
image of the ‘morally superior Sikh’ and managing to tap into pre-existing Sikh paranoia
that ‘Hindus are out to finish (or at least corrupt) their faith’, they seem to have fallen
significantly short of convincing the Sikh masses that independence would be a preferable,
let alone needed, solution. Arguably this is because, aside from a brief period during the
1980s, most Sikhs, whether or not they feel their community has been the subject of
discrimination at the hands of the Indian state, are of the opinion that their people have
both adequate religious freedom and also, by-and-large, enjoy a privileged status within
India. Moreover the existence and awareness of the practical grounds for renouncing
52
Interview with Surinder Singh Grewal. Ludhiana, 2 September 2010.
164
independence/secessionism,53 has served to seriously reduce the potential potency of
Khalistani historical memory—regardless of how sophisticated the latter maybe.
III. Attainability of Independence
While demonstrating that their community held the right to nationhood and that
independence was both a preferable and needed solution constitute necessary components
in promoting the case for Khalistan, arguably the largest swaying factor in relation to
determining its level of support has to do with its perceived attainability. In display of this
point, Kanwarpal Singh, replying to a question regarding the approximate percentage of
Sikhs that would welcome the creation of Khalistan, stated the following:
I have to be frank, before 1983, 1984, the support amongst the Sikhs for Khalistan
was with a very small minority...but after the events of 1984, when our movement
was strong…before the movement faded or was crushed you could say, most Sikhs
were in favour of the idea...You see it’s like this, when people thought that it
[Khalistan] was near they supported us, but when it looked less likely they moved
away from us...most people are like this, that’s why I have more respect for
someone who either is staunchly pro-Khalistan or someone is staunchly antiKhalistan, compared to someone who is the middle [emphasis added].54
Though admittedly, even at the peak of the associated militant movement, the Khalistani
idea probably never achieved majority Sikh backing, it did have enough support and
sympathisers for it to be a considerable cause of concern for the Indian state. On the basis
of a dispassionate evaluation of the respective strengths of the ad hoc Khalistani forces
versus that of the Indian state, it would appear that a separate Sikh state could never
realistically have materialised itself—however the existence of an ‘attainability perception’,
53
These legitimate concerns, to mention a few, include; first, Khalistan would be a
landlocked state, and thus susceptible to heavy economic and political reliance on neighbouring
states—particularly Pakistan; second, the significant economic effects e.g. Sikh farmers would
witness a huge reduction in demand for their granary stocks; third, currently well integrated
Punjabi Sikhs living in various parts of India would likely face a ‘backlash’ from local Hindu
populations; and fourth, Sikhs in Punjab would be cut off from their important religious sites in
places such as Delhi and Nanded.
54
165
rather than attainability in itself, helped to explain why tens of thousands of Sikhs rallied
behind the Khalistan cause to the point that many even took up arms to realise that goal. In
helping to generate the view that independence was, and remains, attainable, Khalistanis
have tended to draw upon examples from their community’s history prior to 1947 which
evoke the idea that Sikhs are an innately brave people who have the ability to withstand
extreme forms of persecution and achieve victory against all odds (Malcolm 1812: 102,
Brass 2006: 20).
As far as being able to withstand extreme forms of persecution, it appears that
Khalistanis have derived inspiration from the numerous instances of martyrdom
throughout Sikh history—perhaps none more so than that of their Gurus, Arjan Dev55 and
Teg Bahadur,56 martyred at the behest of the Mughal emperors Jahangir and Aurangzeb
respectively. It is believed that both were offered the opportunity to ‘embrace’ Islam and
renounce their faith in a bid to avoid torture and/or execution, but they heroically refused
to do so. From a Khalistani point of view, the martyrdom of their Gurus serves the purpose
of signifying to their co-religionists that they should, and can, avoid renouncing (or even
compromising) their Sikh faith and their temporal ideals (namely Khalistan)—regardless of
the adversity they may be subject to at the hands of the ‘Hinduized’ Indian state. Yet there
are potential problems for Khalistanis regarding their attempts to evoke a historical
memory of the Sikh Gurus’ martyrdom, and that is it could actually aid in reinforcing
Hindu-Sikh bonds as it invariably does for most mainstream Sikhs—after all, such
55
Based on extracts from the Dabistan-i-Mazahib, it appears that Guru Arjan Dev,
whose body was washed away by the river Ravi, perished from ‘the heat of the sun, the severity
of summer and the tortures of the bailiffs’ (quoted in Fenech 1997: 627). That there was a
religious motivation behind Guru Arjan’s martyrdom is demonstrated in Jahanigir’s memoirs,
Tuzuk-i-Jahangiri, which writes: ‘There lived at Goindwal on the bank of river Beas a Hindu
named Arjan in the garb of a Pir and Shaikh, so much so that he had by his ways and means
captivated the hearts of many simple minded Hindus as well as ignorant and foolish
Muslims…Khusarau [Jahangir’s son] passed along this road and he met [Guru Arjan]. He made
on his forehead a finger mark in saffron which in Hindu terminology is called tikka…I ordered
he be brought into my presence and put to death with tortures’ (quoted in Gill 1999: 79).
56
It is understood that Guru Teg Bahadur travelled to Delhi as a representative for a
group of Kashmiri Pandits who feared being forcibly converted to Islam. According to the
Bachitar Natak, composed by his successor and son, Guru Gobind Singh: ‘He [Guru Teg
Bahadur] sacrificed his life for protecting the right of the Hindus to wear the sacred thread and
frontal marks; For the sake of righteousness he did this great heroic deed’ (quoted in Gill 1999:
98).
166
instances of martyrdom merely highlight the shared suffering that non-Muslims
encountered during the less tolerant periods of Mughal rule. Being mindful of this, certain
Khalistanis have endeavoured to inject their own sectarian angle into these events, with
some even going as far as to blame the Hindus for the martyrdom of Guru Arjan Dev.57
Also it had been suggested that the Hindus, in light of post-partition events in India, remain
‘ungrateful’58 of the sacrifices made by the Sikhs for the protection of the formers e.g. Guru
Teg Bahadur’s martyrdom for the sake of the Kashmiri Pandits who had been ordered to
convert to Islam.
Apart from the Guru period, the tragic death of Banda Bahadur and, in particular,
veteran Baba Deep Singh’s valiant defence of the Golden Temple from the advancing
Afghans, stand as further examples of popularly referred to martyrdoms in Sikh history
(McLeod 1992: 349, 351). It can be said that such
[t]ales of Sikh sacrifices in defence of their faith [have been] carried from village to
village by dhadi jathas, repeated in folklore, rememorialised in popular fiction,
accepted as inviolable truth by religious historians, and transmitted though
paintings on the walls of sacred precincts (Bhalla 2006: 105).
Arguably these various modes of acquiring (or reinforcing) their knowledge of martyrdoms
in their communal history, in particular the associated artist renditions,59 provide such
Sikhs with an extremely detailed and explicit mental image of events that they, in their
individual capacity, never actually experienced—hence ‘historical memory’ as opposed to
merely ‘history’.
In more recent times, the revolutionary Bhagat Singh Sandhu is yet another figure
who has acquired shaheedi status amongst members of the Sikh collective. Though clearly it
would be an exaggeration to say that Khalistanis have sought to consciously evoke the
57
This view was articulated by Zaffarwal (quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 146)
59
These include images such as Baba Deep Singh holding his own decapitated head
while defending the Golden Temple and Guru Arjan Dev being boiled alive during his torture at
the hands of the Mughals.
58
167
memory of Bhagat Singh’s martyrdom in the manner that they have done so with their
Gurus, they have not gone as far as disowning him either. At first glance it would seem
rather nonsensical for Khalistanis to include Bhagat Singh within their historical memory
of pre-1947 Sikh history on account of his manifest association with the wider Indian
nationalist movement. However it appears that Khalistanis have still been able to extract
‘usability’ from his legacy in two senses; first, he stands as an example of a ‘Sikh’ who had
the courage to take on a vastly stronger, and supposedly unjust,60 imperial power and
wilfully embraced martyrdom when it came. When asked whether Sikh freedom fighters
such as Bhagat Singh would have emerged had they known Punjab (and India) would be
divided, Srai suggests that
they would have emerged…because they were looking for freedom…but with
hindsight they wouldn’t have been backing anybody along the lines of the
Congress…I think freedom was something that they wanted, and they would have
pursued, obviously with a view to getting a better outcome for the Sikhs.61
Second, even by acknowledging the fact that Bhagat Singh was motivated by independence
for a united India rather than a divided one, he stands as an example of yet another Sikh
sacrifice among a list of thousands which the Hindu majority, as adjudged by their conduct
post-1947, remain ungrateful of. Needless to say, whether out of ignorance or convenience,
Khalistanis who have evoked a historical memory of Bhagat Singh have tended to glaze
over certain facts which would hardly be of benefit to their cause: namely, that his father
was an Arya Samajist, or that he declared himself an atheist while in his prison cell!
While such instances of martyrdom throughout their history undoubtedly serve to
build-up an image of the Sikhs as a brave and resilient people,62 on its own, it is perhaps
insufficient in convincing many that Khalistan is actually attainable. As such, certain
Khalistanis have sought to utilise additional aspects of their historical memory which
60
In the eyes of many Sikhs, though by no means all, events such as the Jallianwala
Bagh massacre in Amritsar left them disenchanted with British rule.
61
62
Beant Singh in Pettigrew 1995: 177.
168
demonstrate the Sikhs’ ability to overcome their numerical disadvantages through their
‘superior fighting capacity’—exaggerated more so by the commonly held assessment of the
Hindus as a cowardly people.63
Of course, the opinion that the Sikhs hold a superior fighting capacity is by no
means a baseless one, and arguably the praise that their community received at the hands
of those belonging to ‘enemy peoples’ stands as the strongest testimony to this. For instance
Zakariya Khan, the Governor of Lahore said of the Sikhs:
One [of them] battles like a hundred warriors. Death is something of which they are
not afraid. Their [fondest] desire remains to die for their faith. We are tired of
killing them, but their numbers do not decrease (quoted in Bhangu 1982: 321).
Similarly, during the Anglo-Sikh Wars of the mid-nineteenth century, many British officers
recorded their astonishment at the gallantry they witnessed from the Sikhs on the
battlefield. Indeed during colonial rule, the British view of the Sikhs as a brave64 and
‘martial race’ certainly was a stereotype that few Sikhs at the time, or since, sought to
challenge.65
That opinions regarding the Sikhs superior fighting capacity, and possibly Hindu
cowardice, formed part of the rationale behind support for the Khalistani movement and
associated militant behaviour is evident from the following two statements—first,
according to Chauhan, when asked about whether India would resort to war to prevent
Khalistan materialising, ‘India cannot fight us, what is India without the Sikhs? Zero!
There will be no war’ (quoted in Sahota and Sahota 1993: 121); second, during the build-up
‘In Sikh popular perception the Hindu is conceived in the stereotypical “bania”
mould. He is portrayed as a fat, unctuous, cowardly, vegetarian, who wears dhotis and eats rice
with his fingers. Interestingly, one of the victims of the Sikh massacres in Delhi confessed in an
interview that he found it difficult to understand how the “bania” Hindu could suddenly turn so
murderously violent’ (Gupta et al. 1988: 1681).
64
According to Denzil Ibbetson, head of the 1881 census operations in Punjab, the
Sikhs were ‘more independent, more brave, more manly than the Hindu, and no whit less
industrious and thrifty, while he is less conceited than the Musalman and not devoured by that
carking discontent which so often seems to oppress the latter’ (quoted in Kapur 1986: 24).
65
A point well made by Surinder Jodhka, is that ‘the impact of colonial rule was so farreaching that over the years, the Muslims, Hindus and the Sikhs, all began to see themselves as
the British saw them’ (2001: 1317).
63
169
to Operation Blue Star, Bhindranwale, when being asked whether the militants could be
outnumbered by the army, produced quite a witty response: ‘Sheep always outnumber the
lions. But one lion can take care of a thousand sheep. When the lion sleeps, the birds chirp.
When it awakes, the birds fly away. There is silence’ (quoted in Kirpekar 1984: 78). In the
case of Bhindranwale, while it can be speculated as to whether he genuinely believed that
‘his people’ could defend themselves in the Golden Temple from an imminent army raid or
much less so wrestle independence from the Indian state, it is apparent that many young
impressionable Sikhs across Punjab were completely mesmerised by him66—so much so
that some even began to speak of him, rather blasphemously, as a Guru! During the height
of the militancy, Dhillon recalled the following:
I was invited to a small meeting in a residence of a professor of Khalsa College
[during the height of the militancy]…I was told a couple of Singhs, these Khalistani
terrorists were called Singhs…would be coming…they want to discuss with some
intellectual people, so I was also considered an intellectual, and invited in that
meeting…Now they are Khalistanis with flowing beards…we were all drinking
[drinking is prohibited in Sikhism]…[during the discussions]…In a huff one of
them [the Khalistanis] said, ‘Sardar Sahib we already feel that in fact there are only
three real Gurus of the Sikhs’…So I was surprised, so I said ok fine, which ones?
He [one of the Khalistanis] said ‘one is Guru Granth Sahib’, I said fine, it’s the
ordain for the Sikhs, ‘second, Guru Gobind Singh’, I said fine, he created the
Khalsa, and, ‘the third one, Sant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale’…[A flabbergasted
Dhillon was a replied] ‘waheguru, waheguru, waheguru’…[Dhillon continued] ‘What
are you saying?…Santji might have committed great sacrifice…no doubt he was a
great martyr for the cause of the Sikhs but you can’t call him a Guru, because Guru
Gobind Singh had clearly ordained that after him this book only will be the Sikh
Guru’…He [the Khalistani] said, ‘Yes, yes, yes…what we mean, [is that] he was
like a Guru, he was a great personality’…I said ‘ok fine…but tell me what about the
other nine Gurus?’…He [the Khalistani] said, ‘Oh they are all Hindus’…I said
‘fine…bhai sahib, if they are Hindus [then] only their bani is included in Guru
Granth Sahib…Guru Gobind Singh never entered his bani in the Guru Granth
66
Baljit Singh in Pettigrew 1995: 164-165.
170
Sahib, how can you call Guru Granth Sahib as your Guru and at the same time
consider the Gurus whose bani are in the Guru Granth Sahib as Hindus?’67
As such when Bhindranwale remarked that ‘[o]ur Guru [Gobind Singh], said one Sikh,
could fight, 125,000…We have calculated that with a total Hindu population of 66 crores, it
comes to only 35 per Sikh’ (quoted in Talveen Singh 1984: 45); it is possible that some of
his followers could have taken this formula literally rather than for its symbolic value, and
being convinced that Khalistan was now attainable, joined the militancy accordingly.
Of course this ‘brave Sikh-cowardly Hindu’ dichotomy that many Khalistanis have
sought to promote, or at least highlight, in their historical memory is clearly not beyond
scrutiny. First, to create a singular caricature for a body of people, whether the Sikhs or the
far more numerous and diverse Hindus, appears to be utterly ludicrous. For example, even
if we are to give way to a measure of generalisation, it seems absurd to consider that groups
such as the Rajputs, Dogras or Gurkhas, should be considered ‘cowardly’ simply on
account of belonging to the Hindu religion. Perhaps aware of this view, many Khalistanis
have seemingly taken pride in highlighting that even the supposedly hardy Hindu clans are
devoid of moral backbone:
You know people say Rajputs are warriors…the Rajputs themselves gave their
daughters [to the Mughals]…Jodha Bhai is the mother of Jahangir…that’s their
history! That’s the truth.68
The second reason why this dichotomy is by no means beyond scrutiny is that, despite
being in no right position to question whether Guru Gobind Singh intended for his ‘Sikhs
equalling 125,000 men’ formula to be construed literally or symbolically, it can be safely
assumed that this was applicable to Khalsa Sikhs only. This actuality was not lost on
Bhindranwale either, who remarked, ‘If we don’t become Khalsa how shall we rule?’
(quoted in Judge 2005: 88). Third, and a point closely connected to the previous, is that
67
68
171
even if we are to accept, rather crudely, that Amritdhari Sikhs are ‘generally’ braver than the
average Hindu, it must be remembered that there were probably far more of the former, in
real terms, within the ranks of the Punjab Police and Indian Armed Forces than there
among the Khalistani forces.
Conclusion
It is evident that Khalistani ideologues have tended to interpret and use, with varying
degrees of success, aspects from Sikh history prior to 1947 to convey the three following
contentions. The first of these contentions is that Sikhs hold a legitimate claim to
nationhood, and therefore are within their rights to demand their own nation-state. The
second being that Khalistan is not only a preferable solution to the status quo, but rather is
needed for the very survival of the Sikhs as a distinct people. The final contention that
Khalistani ideologues have sought to demonstrate is that independence is actually
attainable as a goal. While Khalistanis appear to have made a credible case for a right to
nationhood, they have had more difficulty in convincing the Sikh masses that
independence is preferable and/or needed, and perhaps even less success in demonstrating
its attainability. This is not so much due to any notable defects within their historical
memory but more so because of glaring practical reasons which have comprehensively
overrode ideological considerations for most Sikhs in Punjab.
It is also observable from the above evidence that the Khalistani historical memory
has, in many regards, overlapped quite substantially with the mainstream Sikh
recollections. Arguably it has only acquired its distinctiveness at times when the
mainstream Sikh historical memory failed to aid their ideological case for Khalistan—and
this has been achieved in the main, through either subjecting certain aspects within the
narrative to skewing and/or ‘selective amnesia’. It should be noted as well that it is purely
for the purposes of attempting to comprehend the multitude of different opinions held by
scholars, activists and grass-roots people, that terms such as ‘Khalistani’ and ‘mainstream’
Sikh have been deployed by this study. For clearly no two individuals can share identical
172
opinions in every respect, and it is conceivable that a Khalistani could hold, what could be
subjectively adjudged to constitute, mainstream Sikh views in certain respects, and vice
versa. As such, what this chapter has attempted to demonstrate are merely observable
tendencies.
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Chapter 4: Methodology
Introduction
Five case-specific research questions were outlined at the onset of this study (see Chapter 1:
91). These were formulated to facilitate the successful testing of the two hypotheses.
The general hypothesis (H1) stated that: The arrival of refugees into their host societies will likely
contribute towards the rise of ethno-national conflict. The second, a case-specific hypothesis (H2),
stated that: The arrival of Sikh refugees into truncated Punjab contributed towards the rise of the
Khalistan movement. The answers to the five case-specific questions are discussed at length
in Chapter 5. This chapter will define the context of this study in its hypotheses-testing
phase, including details of the target group(s), geographical remit(s) and time-period(s)
under focus (Section I); and discuss the data collection and analysis used to address the
research questions (Section II).
I. Defining the Context
Target Group
The principle group identified for analysis are the Sikh refugees. However, the analysis has
not been restricted solely to them, but also targets non-refugee Sikhs. Indeed it was only by
including the latter in the target population, albeit in the base-level one, that the five casespecific research questions could be adequately tackled.
Timeframe
This study has endeavoured to explore the connection between the arrival of Sikh refugees
and the rise of the Khalistan movement. Consequently, the principle timeframes selected
for the focus of analysis were between 1946 and 19481 and between 1981 and 1991.2 Along
1
This corresponds with the years during which the overwhelming proportion of
partition refugees migrated across the Punjab (see Chapter 1: 67-79).
2
This corresponds with the ‘rise’ years of the Khalistan movement (see Chapter 1: 8188).
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with the principle timeframes of this study was a, second, base-level timeframe that extends
from 1940 and the present day. This broader timeframe provided the necessary scope
needed to fully address the research questions.
Geographical Scope
At first glance, Punjab would seem to define the geographical scope of this study. However,
what constitutes ‘Punjab’, in both actuality and public perception, is not unambiguous (see
Chapter 3: 152). Consequently the analysis focuses upon ‘two Punjabs’ as its principle
geographical units. When discussing partition, the Punjab to which the analysis refers is the
territory of ‘united Punjab’, inclusive of British Punjab and the Punjab states. When
discussing the Khalistan movement, Punjab will refer to the territory of ‘Punjabi suba’, with
its internal district configurations in line with the 1981/1991 Indian censuses.
However because the partition massacres across Punjab, as well as the rise of the
Khalistan movement, owed much to external factors and influences, the analysis needs to
consider relevant data outside of these two principle geographical entities. Therefore, along
with the territory of the ‘two Punjabs’ identified above, the analysis also focuses on a
broader, base-level, geographical terrain consisting of the territories of the present-day
Indian subcontinent and the principal seats of Sikh diasporan influence which include the
UK and North America.
II. Data Collection and Analysis
The study uses a ‘mixed method’ approach (Textor 1977: 39, Johnson and Christensen
2004, Tashakkori and Teddlie 1998), and incorporates both qualitative and quantitative
data and analysis.
Qualitative Data and Analysis
In a study concerned with collective memory and re-territorialization, the analysis must be
able to determine why and how people hold the views, or behave in the way, that they do.
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The means of obtaining the information needed to do this includes conducting interviews
(henceforth to be identified as ‘primary’ interviews), and analysing secondary interview
transcripts, together with other relevant qualitative material available.
Sample
The sample of the target population selected was designed to approximate, in ratio terms
(Hamill et al. 1980: 578), the real number within the target group, and to reflect or represent
its internal configurations.
The aim was to compile at least seventy interviews, primary and secondary
combined, for analysis. This would ensure that its ratio was between 73113:1 in 1941 (as
per the number of Sikhs in the territory of ‘united’ Punjab) and 208463:1 in 2001 (as per the
number of Sikhs in the territory of Indian Punjab state).3 The actual number of interviews
used in the analysis totalled 71, meaning that the ratio in the former case was actually
72083:1, and in the latter 205527:1.
The ideal situation would be for the sample to be an accurate depiction of the group
at large along all notable lines of cleavage, i.e. gender, age, geographical location, and
refugee/non-refugee status (Fotheringham 1955, Fink 1995: 1). However, in this analysis,
achieving this was not the goal for a number of reasons. First, since this research spans,
according to its base-level timeframe, the period from 1940 to the present, the internal
configurations of this group fluctuate too widely to permit agreement on any one ideal
representation. The second reason was that, by focusing on topics such as the 1947
partition and the rise of Khalistan movement, it was only reasonable to accord
overrepresentation to Sikh refugee and Khalistani interviewees in relation to Sikh
population as whole. Third, the research needed to respect the patriarchal nature of
Punjabi/Indian society. Consequently, primary interviews were not conducted with
women, who constitute one-half of the target population.
3
At the time of writing the 2011 census data on religion was not ready.
176
As an alternative to creating an ideal sample based on representativeness, the study
created one that met a specific set of quotas (see, for an explanation of this, Oppenheim
1992). Thus, the total interviewee count, inclusive of both primary and secondary
interviews, attempted to meet the following criteria.

Refugee/Non-Refugee Sikhs: Since the principle target group of this analysis was
the Sikh refugees, they represented a significant number of the overall interviewee
count and, in fact, were overrepresented in the sample in terms of their actual
proportion within the pan-Sikh collective.4 However, since the study needed to
address questions such as RQ-1 and RQ-2, non-refugee Sikhs, both post-event
offspring and co-ethnic kin, were also represented within the interviewee sample.
The analysis was concerned to ensure that neither the number of Sikh refugees nor
the number of non-refugee Sikhs interviewed were less than 40 per cent of the
overall. As it transpired, 40 out of the 71 interviewees were Sikh refugees (hence
56.3 per cent of the total), and 31 of the 71 were non-refugee Sikhs (hence 43.7 per
cent of the total) (see Tables 2, 4-5).

Khalistani/Non-Khalistani Sikhs: This study was concerned to test whether or
not Sikh refugees, following their arrival into truncated India, became a
contributing factor in the rise of the Khalistan movement. Consequently, the
sample needed to take into account the political disposition of its interviewees. As
with Sikh refugees, the sample was designed to over-represent the number of
Khalistanis within the pan-Sikh collective. It aimed to ensure that the number of
Khalistanis in the interviewee sample was not less than 30 per cent of the total.5
The actual number interviewed was 31 per cent (or 22 out of the 71 Sikh
interviewees) (see Tables 2, 6).

Time Periods: As discussed previously, the study defined its base-level timeframe
as between 1940 and the present. Therefore, the interviews used in this study were
Especially since the number ‘Born in Pakistan’, as per the census of 1991, constituted
a meagre 5.1 per cent of the total Punjab population in 1981, and only 2.6 per cent in 1991.
5
It has to be said that there has never been a serious study conducted on the numbers of
Khalistanis among the Sikh populace.
4
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distributed throughout this period, with the intention being to demonstrate
fluctuations in the Sikh refugee/pan-Sikh collective mood and behaviour over time.
In terms of the distribution of these interviews, it did not make sense to evenly
spread them throughout this period since there were certain periods, such as the
principle timeframes of 1946-1948 and 1981-1991, which warranted more attention
than others. At the same time, aware of the dangers associated with incentivising
the selection of interviews from the principle timeframes, the aim was to ensure that
at least 40 per cent of the secondary interviews would be drawn from within the
principle timeframes. The actual number of secondary interviewees drawn from the
principal timeframe was 20 out of a total of 46 (hence 43.5 per cent) (see Tables 2,
7).

Inside/Outside Punjab: As mentioned previously, the principle geographical
entities under focus in this study consist of the territory of united Punjab and the
Punjabi suba. Therefore, the aim was to have the majority of the interviews, at least
50 per cent, Punjab-based. As it turned out, 64.8 per cent (46 out of 71) of the
recorded interviews were Punjab-based (see Tables 2, 8). As far as the distribution
of the interviews within Punjab was concerned, though it would have ideally made
sense to spread them across each of the districts (and princely states) of the
territory, this was not realistic. Furthermore, simply because an interview was
conducted at a particular location, does not necessarily ensure that the interviewee
had resided there all their life. Indeed, the very nature of the Sikh refugee
experience, the principle group under focus in this study, is that they had to bypass
many towns and cities before ‘settling’ in their permanent place of residence.
There are, of course, additional indicators of representativeness applying to the target group
at large, such as gender, age, caste and profession (see Appendix II). However, unlike the
core indicators referred to above, these were not deemed important enough, from the
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perspective of this study, to factor into the design of the sample. Nonetheless, these proved
useful during the discussion phase of the analysis (see Chapter 5).
Primary Interviews
There are a number of reasons for conducting primary interviews as part of this research.
First, they make an original contribution to the existing literature on both partition and
Khalistan. Second, they permit the interviewer to pose questions to members of the target
group which do not appear to have been asked in previous interviews. Third, unlike
secondary interview transcripts, with primary interviews it is possible to gauge, particularly
in face-to face interviews, the mood of the respondent. Finally, more so than with
secondary interviews, primary interviews permit the interviewer better appreciation of the
wider context behind statements made by interviewees.
As far as the design of the primary interviews was concerned, the research ensured
that (see Appendix III); first, the type of questions asked were appropriate to the
interviewee, i.e. whether or not the respondent was a supporter of Khalistan; second, the
questions were ordered according to their chronological relevance; and third, owing to
ethical considerations (Corbin and Morse 2003), questions relating to rape or the brutal
aspects of the violence during partition and/or the Khalistan movement were consciously
avoided.6
These interview questions, once formulated, were designed to be open-ended and,
excluding occasions when it was conducted through email, semi-structured (see Appendix
III).
Open-ended questions, unlike closed questions, are far less constraining in the type
of answers they can provide, and can add much richness and depth to the study (May 2001:
102-103). This certainly proved to be the case with one interviewee, Aridaman Singh
Dhillon,7 whose knowledge of Sikh history far surpassed that of the interviewer. Semi-
6
This is not to say these topics did not come up in conversation, but only that the
interviewer was not the one to initiate discussions on them.
7
179
structured questions permitted a degree of comparability in the answers provided by
interviewees. These were also flexible enough to allow for the ‘natural flow’ of
conversation (Tyson 1991: 88-89). This proved beneficial, in helping to establish a good
rapport with interviewees and to veer away from questions that appeared to be too sensitive
(Oppenheim 1992: 89-90, Britten 1995: 252). For instance, one interviewee, Massa Singh,8
broke down in tears when the topic of Operation Blue Star arose; it, thus, made sense in
that circumstance to alter the direction of the conversation. Another benefit was that
answers and unexpected changes in the flow of conversation had the potential to spark
lines of enquiry not previously envisioned. This was especially true in cases when the
interviewee had a deep knowledge of the subject(s) of discussion. Moreover, using semistructured questions produced a large amount of richness and variety in the answers which,
as Chapter 5 will hopefully make apparent, proved reflective of the complexities associated
with the memories held by this target population and the nature of their territorial
expressions.
More than one mode of delivering interviews was used in this research. In addition
to classical face-to-face interviews, in appropriate circumstances, phone-call/video-call and
e-mail interviews were also conducted.
Face-to-face interviews enable a researcher to gain high-end qualitative information
from subjects. Thus, where possible, it was the preferred method of conducting interviews.
21 out of the total of 24 primary interviews were conducted in this way. However, where,
because of logistical or financial constraints, it was not feasible to conduct face-to-face
interviews, phone-call/video-call (used twice out of the total 24 primary interviews
conducted) served as an alternative means of conducting interviews. These alternatives
made it possible to expand the geographical range of the primary interviewees (Colombotos
1969), and appeared to suit ‘professional’ interviewees with limited time to spare for a faceto-face interview such as in the case of Ranjit Singh Srai.9
8
9
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Another mode of conducting interviews was through e-mail (Burnham et al. 2008:
229). As with phone-call/video-call interviews, these helped to extend the geographical
range of the interviews. This mode was only used once out of the total 24 primary
interviews conducted. This was the least intimate interview method used out of the three,
and was the only one which could not be delivered semi-structured. Nevertheless, it had the
advantage of giving the respondent adequate time to respond to the questions asked (Meho
2005).
A transcript of the discussion was produced for all primary interviews conducted.
To facilitate this, audio recordings were made where permitted; otherwise, comprehensive
handwritten notes were taken during the discussion. The interview transcripts were then
analysed, both individually and collectively. The analysis looked for evidence of
‘substantial overlap’ among the individual narratives.10 Determining the existence, or nonexistence, of overlap helped, with varying degrees of success, to answer at least four out of
the five research questions: RQ-1, RQ-2, RQ-3 and RQ-4.
In addition to an analysis of the transcript, more subtle elements emerging from the
interview discussions (especially during face-to-face interviews) were analysed. This
included notes taken concerning the body language of the respondents when answering
questions, and either notes or recordings indicating the tone of voice and lengthy pauses in
responses. These elements were factored into the analysis. These elements helped the
interviewer understand the responses far better than through reliance upon the transcript
alone.
One of the most important aspects of a ‘live’ primary interview setting is the ability
to interact with the respondent and analyse the discussion beyond what appears solely in
the transcript. However, this does not eliminate the potential for misinterpretation. For
example, it might appear, wrongly, that an interviewee constantly looking out of the
window was disinterested in the conversation. Also, though primary interviews undertaken
10
This includes, within the multitude of individual partition memories analysed,
reference to specific aspects—such as historical dates, time periods, events, elite
action/statements, political views, particular exilic experiences etc.—gaining frequent and/or
disproportion attention.
181
by this study make an original contribution to the existing literature, it is also the case that
the ‘rapport’, or by contrast ‘friction’, that the interviewer built up with the interviewee(s)
could have resulted in a biased analysis (the potential for which would presumably be
markedly reduced if analysis was confined to secondary interview transcripts). These
concerns play a part in the discussion of the analysis presented in Chapter 5.
Secondary Interviews
In addition to primary interviews, this research also made considerable use of secondary
interviews and materials sourced from previously published works. These included the Oral
History Collection at Jawaharlal Nehru Memorial Museum and Library in New Delhi and
the Professor Kirpal Singh Manuscript Collection at the Sikh History Research Department
in Khalsa College, Amritsar.
The chief reason for including such material in the analysis was that it increased the
number of interviewers and, therefore, minimised the degree to which individual biases
could impact upon the sample. Interview material already available in the public domain
also permitted an identification of potential areas to exploit and factor into the design of the
primary interviews. It also permitted the study to ‘go back in time’, i.e. to a time prior to
when this research commenced (Addington-Hall et al. 2010: 335). Finally, this material
extended the sample to, what would normally be, difficult to reach groups, such as Punjabi
housewives and armed Khalistani militants.
Of course, the study had no influence over the design or delivery of secondary
interviews. Even in the analysis phase, except on occasions where the respective author
provided a commentary and/or a summary, the transcript alone was relied upon for
making sense of the interview. However, this author sought answers to the same questions
in both forms of interview material.
In addition to those referred to above, there were certain drawbacks associated with
the use of secondary interview material (Cowton 1998: 428). This included not knowing
whether, and how well, the interviewer abided to prescribed interview methods. Thus,
182
there was no way to confirm whether the interview content itself was skewed and/or
fabricated. Also, the wider context of the discussion tended to be lost.
Supplementary Qualitative Data
Interviews were the chief qualitative method deployed by this study. However,
supplementary qualitative data was also used. These consisted of autobiographical works,
relevant academic books and journal articles, newspapers, Government of India (GOI)
publications and ministry documents, and Sikh party-political resolutions, maps and
pamphlets. Data from these sources provided a context within which the
interview/statement material could be situated and understood.
Generic Limitations of Qualitative Methods
Not discounting the fact that qualitative methods have numerous advantages, there are
limitations associated with its use. Those of particular relevance to this study, beyond those
mentioned previously, include; first, an increased propensity towards subjectivity,
especially during the analysis phase, in that the researcher ‘sees only what they want to see’
(Fontana and Frey 1998: 47, 58); and second, the difficulty in being able to tangibly
measure the outcomes.
Table 2 Interview Data
183
Table 3 Primary/Secondary Interviews
184
Table 4 Refugees Interviews
185
Table 5 Non-Refugee Interviews
186
Table 6 Khalistani/Non-Khalistani Interviews
187
Table 7 Principle/Non-Principle Timeframe Interviews
188
Table 8 Inside/Outside Punjab Interviews
189
Quantitative Data and Analysis
Quantitative data used in this analysis was drawn from secondary sources and subjected to
a series of bivariate tests.
Secondary Datasets
The secondary quantitative data used in this research included data on Sikh refugees: the
district-wise ‘Born in Pakistan’ population count across Punjab state, sourced from the
1981 and 1991 GOI censuses.11 It also included data on Khalistan militancy rates: the
district-wise breakdown of ‘Hard-core Terrorists Killed in Punjab’ sourced from SATP and
the ‘Police Officers Martyred in Punjab’ sourced from the Punjab police.
The reasons for including secondary, rather than primary, statistical data in this
research were twofold. First, since the raw data needed to answer RQ-5 already existed, it
would have been nonsensical to embark upon a similar survey, especially when the
resources available to this study could never hope to match that of bodies such as the GOI
or the Punjab Police who, incidentally, were able to obtain complete data returns. Second,
since one of the principle timeframes of this study, 1981-1991, corresponds with the rise of
the Khalistan movement, any primary quantitative research would, by definition, fall
outside of this (nor, given the demographic changes since 1991, would such data serve the
same level of explanatory purpose).
There are of course limitations associated with the use of secondary quantitative
data. These include; first, reliance upon the original categorisation and terminology i.e.
having to rely upon the ‘Born in Pakistan’ count to determine the spread of Sikh refugees is
not ideal;12 and second, issues surrounding the reliability of data, such as whether strict
11
These particular census years have been used since they cut across the period
corresponding with the ‘rise’ of the Khalistan movement.
12
While the ‘Born in Pakistan’ population is not the same as ‘refugee population’, the
vast majority of people in this category were indeed refugees from West Pakistan. Also it must
be noted that while these statistics make no religious distinction between Hindu and Sikh
refugees, it has already been established that the overwhelming portion of partition refugees that
arrived within the districts which would later constitute Punjab post-1966, were Sikhs. As such
these statistics resemble, very closely, the ‘true’ Sikh refugee population distribution.
190
scientific methods of data collection were adhered to, whether there were any malign forces
contributing towards the skewing/fabrication of the results etc.
Bivariate
The datasets on Sikh refugees and Khalistani militancy were subject to a series of bivariate
analysis tests. The bivariate method of statistical analysis was deemed most appropriate by
this study since it is, in RQ-5, attempting to test the relation between only two variables:
first, Sikh refugee arrival; and second, Khalistani militancy rates (Franklin 2008: 253-254).
The specific bivariate analysis test used was that of a Spearman’s Rank Correlation
Coefficient test, which was conducted at a level of one-tailed significance.13
Figure 4 Spearman’s Rank Correlation Coefficient Formula
In comparison to qualitative, the outputs generated through quantitative analysis are far
less ambiguous. The outputs resulting from the tests indicate, by a number between -1 and
+1, whether or not there is a correlation between the variables; and assuming there is,
whether it is positive or negative and, whichever direction, how weak/strong that
correlation happens to be. In order for the advanced hypothesis to be on course for
verification, a ‘strong’ positive correlation (ideally beyond +0.5) ought to exist between the
Sikh refugee population distribution and the rates of Khalistani militancy. The results from
13
A one-tailed significance is more appropriate than a two-tailed one here, since the
direction of the relation can only logically be one-way i.e. Sikh refugee arrival impacting upon
ethno-national conflict, and not vice versa.
191
this statistical analysis, and discussion surrounding it, are located in the following chapter
(see Chapter 5: 276-292).
The principle limitation associated with bivariate analysis is that it excludes the
contribution of supplementary independent variables in helping to explain the dependent
variable. Perhaps a more sophisticated approach would have been able to include other
indicators such as economic, gender, literacy etc. However, the decision by this study to
restrict the analysis to a bivariate one was made because of the difficulties in getting access
to this other complete datasets. Moreover, it must be appreciated that, this has been
primarily a qualitative study with the quantitative aspect used solely to answer RQ-5 so as
to assist in verifying/falsifying the conclusions relating to RQ-1 to RQ-4.
General Limitations of Quantitative Methods
As expected, despite its notable worth, there are limitations associated with the application
of quantitative methods. Those with particular relevance to this research, include; first, the
relative superficiality of the data and results, which often fail to convey the full sense of
emotion or understanding behind the statistics; second, the lack of situational context
behind the data; and third, the tendency of respondents, or survey conductors, to ‘force’
raw data into pre-defined/selected categories.
Conclusion
This methodology chapter has managed to achieve the following. First, in terms of defining
the context it has; 1) explicitly outlined the target group under focus—the Sikhs—with Sikh
refugees forming the principle target, and non-refugee ethnic kin/post-event offspring
constituting the base-level; 2) clearly stated, and justified why, there will be two principle
timeframes under focus (1946-1948 and 1981-1991) as well as a base-level one (1940present); and 3) identified, and justified, the principle geographical area(s) under focus
(‘united’ Punjab and Punjabi suba), as well as the base-level covering the Indian
subcontinent, the UK and North America respectively. Second, it thoroughly described the
192
data collection and analysis phase of this research, including both its qualitative and
quantitative elements, used to answer the five case-specific research questions. The
following chapter presents a discussion of the analysis and the findings.
193
Chapter 5: The Role of Sikh Refugees in the Rise of the
Khalistan Movement
Introduction
This chapter effectively serves as the centrepiece of this entire research, aiming to provide
comprehensive answers to all five case-specific research questions advanced. These include
the following;




persecuted identity, and, if so, have the forms of expression deployed changed with
context?

By answering these questions, this study will be able to authoritatively conclude whether or
not the arrival of Sikh refugees into truncated Punjab contributed towards the rise of the Khalistan
movement (H2).
The answers provided below were arrived at after compiling and consulting a
plethora of evidence through both qualitative and quantitative methods, as the previous
chapter had described (see Chapter 4). In terms of qualitative, it encompassed excerpts
from 71 interview/statement transcripts (see Tables 2-8), all of which delivered in English,
as well as numerous supplementary qualitative sources to enhance the reliability of the
answers provided—these were used in aid of addressing the first four research questions
194
(RQ-1 to RQ-4). In terms of quantitative, datasets concerning Punjab’s ‘Born in Pakistan’
population as per the 1981 and 1991 censuses (see Maps 11-12), and Punjab militancy
figures, taken from the Punjab Police and SATP respectively (see Maps 13-16), spanning a
period from 1986 to 1993 were used for the correlation tests—this was used to answer the
fifth and final research question (RQ-5).
I. Does a Sikh refugee ‘collective memory’ of partition exist?
The analysis sought to determine whether or not the Sikh refugees held a collective
memory of their departure from West Pakistan, as judged by the degree of ‘overlap’ in
aspects of their individual partition narratives, and if it was distinctively ‘victimhood-rich’
in content. The shape and potency of memory is assumed to fluctuate according to specific
context (see RQ-3). However this discussion highlights only those aspects of memory
which remained largely unchanged since 1947. These include; first, violence associated
with their departure; and second, the permanent material consequences of partition
(economic, political and cultural) upon their collective.
Violent Departure
Nature of Violence
In terms of the nature of partition violence, although no two individual experiences or
recollections are ever absolutely identical in character, certain aspects of the Sikh refugee
experience in West Pakistan appear to have been common for virtually all within this subgroup. These aspects can, thus, be considered as constituting core components of their
exilic collective memory. These include the following.
The first aspect is the actual physical violence, irrespective of whether individuals
personally sustained injury or witnessed their co-religionists suffering injury at the hands of
Muslim mobs. For many refugees, the non-fatal physical wounds that they suffered en
195
route to India were of a permanent nature, such as the loss of a body part,14 and these
injuries existed as a perpetual reminder of their bitter departure from West Pakistan. For
refugees who survived partition, the death of co-religionists, and particularly the death of
family and friends, left its imprint, not only in the deceased’s absence from their postpartition lives, but also by the way in which such people were killed. Gulab Singh Kapur,
an Amritsar-based refugee originally from Narowal, district Sialkot, expresses this in the
following recollection:
Hundreds of women from my village were abducted by the raiders who arrived
from neighbouring districts…it did not matter if they were married or
unmarried…so many of our beautiful girls were taken away from us…Mothers had
their young forcibly snatched away from them as the Muslims would not accept
such children…[long pause]…the sight of those innocent children being cut to pieces
disturbs me deeply even to this day [emphasis added].15
The second aspect of the Sikh refugee experience in West Pakistan involves the
looting and/or plunder of their valuables and, often ancestral, properties by Muslim
marauders.16 The looting and/or plunder of their possessions appear to be among the least
emotive aspects of their exilic collective memory, which suggests something about the
gruesomeness of the violence to which these partition refugees were subject.
A third aspect of their experience was witnessing the damage to and destruction of
their religious symbols and sites, as well those of the Hindus, by Muslim mobs. One
example of this was the defiling or complete razing to the ground of the vast majority of
14
For instance, there were numerous incidents of female breasts and noses being lopped
off during the violence (‘Letter to Indian High Commissioner in Pakistan from Members of the
Minority Protection Board, Dera Ghazi Khan’. 6 September 1947—Acc No.1405 [PKSMC]:
28; ‘Memo: Haranpur Village, Jhelum District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi—
Acc No.1600 [PKSMC]: 20; Talib [1950] 1991: 81; Sikh refugee #51 quoted in Keller 1975:
58; Menon 2006: 30).
15
Interview with Gulab Singh Kapur. Amritsar, 15 September 2010.
16
It was often the case that refugees were looted on multiple occasions on their way to
the Indian border (‘Telegram to Indian Foreign Minister from Indian Deputy High
Commissioner in Pakistan’. 27 October 1947—Acc No.1521 [PKSMC]; ‘Memo: Indian Deputy
High Commissioner in Pakistan’s Tour of Lyallpur and Sargodha District on 8-10 October
1947’. 11 October 1947—Acc No.1407 [PKSMC]: 17).
196
places of worship belonging to the ‘minority’ religions either side of the Radcliffe Line (in
the Sikh case—Gurdwaras).17 In a statement addressed to the SGPC, in late March 1947,
regarding, what were then, the recent massacres of Hindus and Sikhs in Rawalpindi and
Attock districts, Joginder Singh remarked that, ‘places of worship like Gurdwaras and
temples, school and pathshalas and the teachers and mistresses of these institutions were the
special targets of the “invaders”’.18
The fourth, and arguably most painful aspect associated with their memory of the
partition violence, involved the forcible conversion, abduction, sale and rape that the
refugees themselves endured or witnessed.19 Whereas in a bid to save their lives, many nonMuslim men converted to Islam (though only temporarily in the case of refugees), often
through ad hoc conversion ceremonies which typically involved reciting the kalma,
consumption of beef, shaving of beards (in case of Keshdharis) and genital circumcision; it
was the subjection of ‘their’ womenfolk to such violations that was, and remains, the most
agonising to recall. This is largely because women, in the deeply patriarchal society of
Punjab, were (and continue to be for the most part) perceived of as an extension of male
property. They consequently symbolise, through their chastity before marriage and
monogamy after, the izzat of their male relatives at large, if not of their wider caste or
community. It should be noted that most of the Sikh refugees interviewed by this study did
not, or at best were reluctant to, speak of such instances (at least not so in explicit terms).
However, it would be naïve to assume that such occurrences occupied an inconsequential
‘Memo: Sialkot City Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi. 28 May 1948—
Acc No.1415 [PKSMC]: 50; ‘Memo: Haranpur Village, Jhelum District, Disturbances’. FFB,
MR&R, GOI, New Delhi—Acc No.1600 [PKSMC]: 22.
18
‘Statement of Joginder Singh to SGPC regarding Rawalpindi and Attock District
Disturbances’. 24 March 1947—Acc No.1457 [PKSMC]: 2-3.
19
‘Statement of Inder Singh Bedi regarding Mirpur Disturbances’. 30 November
1947—Acc No.1405 [PKSMC]; ‘Letter to Indian High Commissioner in Pakistan from
Members of the Minority Protection Board, Dera Ghazi Khan’. 6 September 1947—Acc
No.1405 [PKSMC]: 28; ‘Memo: Indian Deputy High Commissioner in Pakistan’s Tour of
Lyallpur and Sargodha District on 8-10 October 1947’. 11 October 1947—Acc No.1407
[PKSMC]: 17-18; ‘Memo: Akalgarh Town, Gujranwala District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R,
GOI, New Delhi. 12 April 1948—Acc No.1415 [PKSMC]: 5, ‘Memo: Talwandi Village,
Gujranwala District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi. 26 April 1948—Acc
No.1415 [PKSMC]: 28; ‘Memo: Akbar Virkan Village, Gujranwala District, Disturbances’.
FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi. 3 May 1948—Acc No.1415 [PKSMC]: 37, Talib [1950] 1991:
51.
17
197
position within their collective memory of partition. It is more likely that such occurrences
did not have a high degree of overlap in the partition narratives analysed, because they
were too traumatic to recall (Eyal 2004: 21) or because men were sensitive to the
detrimental impact it would have had upon their self-image.
With regard to all of these aforementioned aspects, the refugees appeared to
appreciate that the attacks to which they were exposed were, as with the anti-Sikh pogroms
in Delhi decades later, not merely a popular outburst of communal fury but were preplanned20 and had, in conjunction with those bodies ‘expected’ to engage in violence given
the context (i.e. Muslim pirs, Muslim Leaguers, Muslim League National Guards
(MLNGs), the complicity of those that were theoretically meant to protect all people
irrespective of religious background (i.e. Muslim officers from the provincial police and
armed forces). Acts of complicity ranged from ‘turning a blind eye’ to the Muslim attacks
upon non-Muslims or ‘arriving late on the scene’ of a massacre on the low end of
culpability,21 towards actually taking a lead role in the genocidal violence on the high.22
Scale of Violence
Although Sikh refugees appear to appreciate that their personal experiences of Muslim-led
partition violence in west Punjab/West Pakistan were by no means isolated, some
‘Letter to Indian Deputy High Commissioner in Pakistan from Members of the Fort
Refugees Relief Committee, Peshawar’. 9 September 1947—Acc No.1405 [PKSMC]: 16;
‘Statement of Joginder Singh to SGPC regarding Rawalpindi and Attock District Disturbances’.
24 March 1947—Acc No.1457 [PKSMC]: 10.
21
‘Statement of Ram Singh Bhatia regarding Bannu-Makalwal Train Attack’. 16
January 1948—Acc No.1408 [PKSMC]: 15-16; ‘Memo: Haranpur Village, Jhelum District,
Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi—Acc No.1600 [PKSMC]: 20.
22
‘Memo: Indian Deputy High Commissioner in Pakistan’s Tour of Lyallpur and
Sargodha District on 8-10 October 1947’. 11 October 1947—Acc No.1407 [PKSMC]: 17;
‘Memo: Montgomery District Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi—Acc No.1409
[PKSMC]: 6; ‘Memo: Raipur Thana Maini Village, Shahpur District, Disturbances’. FFB,
MR&R, GOI, New Delhi—Acc No.1415 [PKSMC]: 92-93; ‘Memo: Talwandi Village,
Gujranwala District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi. 26 April 1948—Acc
No.1415 [PKSMC]: 28; ‘Telegram to Indian Foreign Minister from Indian Deputy High
Commissioner in Pakistan’. 27 October 1947—Acc No.1521 [PKSMC]; ‘Telegram to Indian
Foreign Minister from Indian Deputy High Commissioner in Pakistan’. 28 October 1947—Acc
No.1521 [PKSMC].
20
198
members of this sub-group give the impression that they were somehow first-hand
spectators to its full scale. Consider, for instance, the statement below:
We watched as the whole of west Punjab burned, millions of our people [Sikhs and
Hindus] forced out of their homes, with all historical trace of our culture in that
land eradicated…from the Indus to the Ravi…and we were witnesses to this…rulers have
changed before, but never the people…not like this…this was unparalleled in the
history of India…and one would hope that nothing like that should happen again
[emphasis added].23
It must be concluded however that, though an individual may have experienced the nature
of partition violence to the fullest extent possible, a Sikh refugee cannot truly claim to have
encountered its full scale. Their perception could only extend to an individual or family
level, or perhaps at most to their village and places they passed en route to the Indian
border (which in sum would still account for a meagre percentage of the total land area of
West Pakistan from which the refugee population fled). Yet at the same time, we cannot
dismiss refugee claims to have encountered the ‘full scale’ of anti-Sikh/anti-Hindu partition
violence as being without basis or, worse, fabricated. Rather their ‘memories’ in this respect
can probably be attributed to the following combination of factors.
The first of these is that since 1947, the history they learned through textbooks and
various media regarding the numbers of partition victims subconsciously re-moulded their
memories by injecting consensus-based and/or elite-endorsed ‘evidence’ into what had
been hitherto disorderly individual recollections of the period (Donald 1991: 19).
Secondly, that refugees had arrived at an educated estimate regarding the scale of
partition violence virtually from the onset, based on personally witnessing scenes of mass
slaughter,24 joining kalifas stretching far into the distance (and probably further than their
23
Interview with Lakshman Singh Duggal. Amritsar, 12 September 2010.
Demonstrating their interaction with the heightened scale of violence, one Sikh
refugee statement wrote: ‘About fifteen days ago village Dhadial was taken over by the raiders
and the civil refugees from the village managed to reach Mirpur and they informed [us] that all
Hindus had been killed and their property looted. On 25 November 1947 our town [Mirpur]
was bombarded and what looked like cannon and mortar fire was opened on the town resulting
24
199
eyes could perceive), entering into refugee camps teeming with people arriving from
various parts of West Pakistan (each having their own horror story to tell),25 and keeping
up-to-date with newspaper reports (albeit highly censored) regarding the violence. These
estimates, based on individual experiences, were later scaled up, with varying degrees of
accuracy, to a pan-Punjab/pan-West Pakistan level.
Adding a Distinctively ‘Sikh’ Edge to Memory
Much of what has been said thus far might, with some tweaking, easily be applied to the
experiences of both Hindu and Muslim Punjabi exiles as well. Consequently, Sikh refugees
have sought to maintain and further strengthen the ‘usability’ (Zamora 1998) of their
‘victimhood-rich’ partition memory by demonstrating (or at least insinuating) that they, as
a sub-group, and part of a wider pan-ethnic collective, were the foremost victims of the
partition violence. In an interview with this author, Paramjit Singh Sarna, a Delhi-based
refugee originally from Gujar Khan, Rawalpindi district, stated that, ‘we [the Sikhs] lost ten
times more people to the Muslims than the amount of Muslims we killed’ [emphasis
added].26 Similarly, Davinder Singh, a Jat refugee from a canal colonist family in
Sheikhupura but now living in Ludhiana, stated that
[w]e suffered the most deaths during partition by far, no doubt about it…but then
again I suppose you could say that it is hardly surprising, if you look at Sikh history
from the time of our Gurus till now, you can say it is almost our destiny to die a
violent death.27
in the complete blowing up of the roofs of the houses and causing lot of causalities among the
civilians…On our way to Akalgarh we saw hundreds of dead bodies of Sikhs and that of few
women. At Akalgarh we met twenty men who were wearing Khaki uniform but I am unable to
say whether these were Pathans or Punjabis. All of us were put in rooms and were locked inside.
We reached Akalgarh at about 8.PM in the night. At about 10 P.M. in the night these fifteen men
accompanied by [an]other crowd numbering about five-hundred visited each room and carried
away all young girls’ [emphasis added] (‘Statement of Inder Singh Bedi regarding Mirpur
District Disturbances’. 30 November 1947—Acc No.1405 [PKSMC]: 7-11).
25
Copland 2002: 679-680.
26
27
Interview with Davinder Singh. Ludhiana, 2 September 2010.
200
Sikh Refugees versus Hindu Refugees
There are a number of explanations that Sikh refugees have advanced for why they suffered
more partition violence compared to the Hindu refugees who also fled from West Pakistan.
One explanation maintains that the historical animosity that had existed between
Sikhs and the Muslims meant that the latter had fewer reservations about engaging in
violence against the former. This view is reflected in a statement by Vachan Kaur, an
Amritsar-based refugee originally from Shahpur Kanjra, Lahore district,
[t]here was a lot of hatred among Sikhs and Muslims. It was easier for the Hindus
to come and go. There was hate for them also, but not like it was between Sikhs
and Muslims (quoted in Verma 2004: 134).
While the antagonism that existed between the Sikhs and Muslims of Punjab during this
period probably did exceed that between the Hindus and Muslims, one of the chief reasons
for this—the perception that the ‘other group’ were unduly aggressive in nature—may
actually have deterred some Muslim mobs from attacking the Sikhs as opposed to the
Hindus, the latter of whom were apparently more cowardly and thus thought to possess
less aptitude for avenging such assaults.
A second explanation for why the Sikh refugees supposedly suffered more violence
than the Hindu ones was that it had been the Sikhs who had been most vocally opposed to
the prospective Muslim League-led ministry in Punjab (and wider Pakistan scheme) and as
such were obvious targets for the Muslims’ wrath. This is reflected in the two statements
below:
[It] cannot be denied that the main target of [the March 1947] attack were the Sikhs. It is
suggested that the reason for this was the Muslim League thought that the Sikhs were
the principal obstacle in the formation of the League Ministry, and if they had joined
201
hands with it or even if they had refrained from co-operation with the Hindus, it
would have easily formed a Ministry on its own [emphasis added].28
The Sikhs had opposed the partition of India with even greater vigour than the
Hindus, because they felt as a community they could only expect disaster in
Pakistan; it was therefore, against the Sikhs that the spear point of the Muslim League
attack was first aimed. In the March riots, the Sikhs of Rawalpindi faced annihilation
and a large number of them left the district [emphasis added] (G.D. Khosla quoted
in Randhawa 1954: 13).
Admittedly, it is difficult to deny that the Sikhs, as demonstrated by the language (often
quite provocative) used by senior Akalis,29 were the group most virulently opposed to the
formation of the Muslim League ministry and the Pakistan demand.
A third explanation advanced is that the ‘Sikhs were obvious targets of the
Muslims...because of their beards...otherwise Hindus and Muslims looked the same, so in
that way possibly the Sikhs suffered the most’.30 Although those Keshdharis among the
Sikhs were undoubtedly easier to identify from the Muslim mobs’ point of view as
belonging to an ‘enemy religion’, it also meant that they were able to gain the protection of
their co-religionists a lot easier in high intensity situations. Overall, it seems reasonable for
refugees to conclude that, aside from a few Sikh majority pockets within west Punjab, being
a Keshdhari served to increase their chance of becoming victims of mob attacks.
Pan-Sikh Collective versus Pan-Muslim Collective
Since it was clear that Muslims were by all accounts the principal aggressors in West
Pakistan, there is often very little reason for Sikh refugees, with their ‘victimhood-rich’
‘Statement of Justice Teja Singh’. Boundary Commission: Partition Proceedings
[1947] Vol.2—Acc No.1634 [PKSMC]: 101.
29
Giving an idea as to the heartfelt Sikh objections in this regard, Master Tara Singh
suggested in early March 1947 that his community, with ‘unanimous determination…oppose
the formation of the Muslim League Ministry in the Punjab which has for its object the
achievement of Pakistan or the domination of the Punjab’, before going on to say, ‘let the
Khalsa Panth now realise the gravity of the situation. I expect every Sikh to do his duty. We
shall live or die but not submit to Muslim domination’ [emphasis added] (The Tribune 1947b).
30
28
202
narrative, to identify with or appropriate aspects (through a ‘backwash effect’) of the
partition memory of their non-refugee co-religionists in the east.31 However Sikhs refugees
have occasionally been, somewhat reluctantly, dragged into the wider cross-Wagah debate
about which community suffered the most violence at a pan-collective level. Yet even on
such occasions, the Sikh refugees have still maintained that their pan-collective suffered
more partition-related violence than the Muslims. This is based on a number of claims.
One claim is that their demographic distribution—the fact that they were thinly
spread across the subcontinent but relatively concentrated in the territories of Punjab—
resulted in Sikhs suffering the most deaths out of any community. In support of this point,
Dr Gurmit Singh Aulakh, a Jat refugee from a canal colonist family in Lyallpur (now
Faisalabad) but now living in Washington D.C., remarks:
I think the Sikhs were the ones who suffered the most…loss of life…because more
of us migrated…Hindus and Muslims were only a small fraction of the transfer of
population [as per their pan-collective numbers across the subcontinent]…we [the
Sikhs] were the majority of the transfer of population [proportionately]…we
covered the most.32
Though it is undoubtedly the case that the bulk of the Sikh population were concentrated
within Punjab and that this province probably witnessed the greatest upheaval out of any in
united India (thus making the Sikhs proportionally the largest victims in this respect), it is
also the case that the Sikhs were also proportionally more likely to participate in partitionrelated crimes than any other. Nonetheless, under such charges, the Sikh refugees could
disassociate from their non-refugee ethnic kin and thus maintain the purity of their
‘victimhood-rich’ memory.
A second claim is that Muslims believed the killing of kafirs to be a virtuous deed,
whereas the Sikhs and Hindus were supposedly more moral and, thus, reluctant
participants in the violence. Granting there have been many fanatical Muslims who have
31
Since by doing so would typically weaken, if not virtually eradicate, their ability to
view their collective as victims of partition.
32
203
historically considered the killing and conversion of kafirs to be righteous, it is purely a
matter of one’s own subjective opinion as to whether Sikhs, or for that matter Hindus, were
any more principled in their conduct during the partition massacres.
A third claim Sikh refugees advance for why they suffered the more partitionrelated violence than the Muslims is that the violence in Punjab was part of a wider
Muslim-led plan (inclusive of the Muslim League, their affiliated press and paramilitary
organisations) to exterminate, or at least expel, non-Muslims from prospective or
confirmed Pakistani territory. This view is reflected in the cross section of Sikh refugee
views from 1947 to the present that are offered below:
The relations between the two communities [Muslims and non-Muslims] got
embittered due to the communal virus spread by the Muslim Leaguers.33
The very name of the State which the Muslim League envisaged—and achieved—
is, in the context in which it was adopted, a standing insult to the Hindus and other
non-Muslims living in India. The name—Pakistan—means literally ‘the Land of
the Pure’ or of Purity. This implies clearly that Hindus and all that belongs to
them…[is] impure, defiled and unholy. In a communally-charge atmosphere to have
broadcast such an offensive name and concept among the Muslims was to extend an open
invitation to racial and communal arrogance [emphasis added] (Talib [1950] 1991: 23).34
Since the Muslim League had proclaimed that Pakistan was to be the homeland of
the Muslims, it had to compensate its supporters with jobs, if necessary at the
expense of the non-Muslims (Khushwant Singh 1965: 12).
Before [partition] there was the news that although Pakistan had been created the
Muslims there in India would live there [in India] and the Hindus and Sikhs on the
Pakistan side could stay on in Pakistan. But Jinnah said it could not be allowed and that
‘Memo: Akbar Virkan Village, Gujranwala District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R,
GOI, New Delhi. 3 May 1948—Acc No.1415 [PKSMC]: 36
34
Though born in Sangrur, east Punjab, Gurbachan Singh Talib had been working in
Lahore since 1940 before fleeing as a result of the partition disturbances and therefore qualifies
as both a ‘refugee’ and ‘non-refugee’ from this study’s perspective.
33
204
each man should come to within his own boundaries. It was after this that we started
[migrating] [emphasis added] (Sikh refugee #16 quoted in Keller 1975: 45).
The killing was on all sides…but it was the Muslim League, and their conspiracy, that
triggered it all…they called it Direct Action…and they started by going after Sikhs
and Hindus wherever they could.35
Arguably the Sikh refugee collective memory in this respect is partly a defensive reaction to
the ‘competing history’ (Linenthal and Engelhardt 1996, Gur-Ze’ev 2003) from Pakistan
that it was a ‘Sikh conspiracy’36 which triggered the violence across Punjab. In fact, the
political leadership of both the Muslim League37 and the SAD38 not only repeatedly
promoted the idea of transfer of population but also often instigated the violence used to
achieve that goal. Of course this is not to say that the Hindus of Punjab did not play a role
in expelling Muslims from east Punjab and the Sikh states (henceforth simply ‘east Punjab’)
or other parts of India, but only that they as a community had, rationally speaking, the
least to gain through any exchange of population both in socio-economic and political
terms.
35
It was suggested by a series of publications produced by the Pakistani state in 1948
that the responsibility for the violence across Punjab lay with the Sikhs and their alleged
‘conspiracy’, namely ‘the establishment of Sikh rule in the Punjab’ for which ‘their
preparations…were aimed directly and exclusively against the Muslims’ [emphasis added]
(‘Note of the Sikh Plan’ 1948. Acc No.1517 [PKSMC]: 1). Unsurprisingly many Sikh leaders
have since, refugees and non-refugees alike, categorically refuted any such idea of a ‘Sikh
Conspiracy’ (‘Interview with Naranjan Singh Gill conducted by S. L. Manchanda’. Delhi, 11
April 1972. Acc No.168 [OHC]: 116).
37
This includes the likes of Mohammad Ali Jinnah and Sir Feroze Khan Noon to name
but a few.
38
Once again senior leaders, this time belonging to the SAD, none less than Master
Tara Singh advocated exchange of population as a permanent solution to the Sikhs’ problem
(The Tribune 1947c). Also, most objective readings regarding the partition violence have shown
that the SAD, and affiliated bodies such as the Akal Fauj, played a lead-role in massacring and
expelling innocent Muslims across east Punjab. Indeed, according to Brass, Master Tara Singh
himself admitted in conversation, that: ‘We took the decision to turn the Muslims out’ (2003:
77).
36
205
A fourth claim is that the Punjab police, largely fractured along communal lines
during the partition violence,39 were dominated by Muslim officers. Amar Singh Bains, an
Amritsar-based refugee originally from Pakpattan, Montgomery district, states that
the Punjab police force at the time was manned overwhelmingly by
Mussalmans…and as you must be knowing, the force became utterly communalised
at that time…They confiscated our weapons that were for the defence of our people
under the pretext that we [Sikhs] may create trouble…This left us completely
exposed to the raiders with whom many [police officers] joined in with the looting
and plundering.40
While there were indeed more Muslim officers within the Punjab Police than any other
community, it must be said that most of those serving east of the Radcliffe Line were
actually non-Muslim. However, from a pan-Punjab perspective it is likely the non-Muslims
suffered marginally more of a disadvantage in this respect.
A final claim, in common with a view shared by many Hindus across India, is that
the British had a pro-Muslim bias (or at least a pro-Pakistan one),41 which led them to
mildly endorse or turn a blind eye towards anti-Muslim outrages across West Pakistan.
While conclusions about whether or not the British had a pro-Muslim/Pakistan bias is
beyond the scope of this research, it is clear that it was virtually impossible for the various
communities of Punjab (and much less so across India) to be were awarded completely equal
treatment by the Raj, nor can it be said that all British officials could have thought or acted
alike.
‘Statement of Sobha Singh regarding Lyallpur Disturbances’. 28 March 1948—Acc
No.1405 [PKSMC]: 110; ‘Memo: Akalgarh Town, Gujranwala District, Disturbances’. FFB,
MR&R, GOI, New Delhi. 12 April 1948—Acc No.1415 [PKSMC]: 3.
40
Interview with Amar Singh Bains. Amritsar, 16 September 2010.
41
According to a former MLA of British Punjab who fled Lahore after the partition
riots: ‘The British were holding Pakistan up to some extent and, therefore, to hold it up, they
had to be slightly anti-India, otherwise if they had been pro-India, Pakistan would not have
come in’ (‘Interview with Surjit Singh Majithia conducted by S. L. Manchanda’. Delhi, 14 June
1973. Acc No.668 [OHC]: 89). Perhaps one credible way of assessing whether or not the British
held a pro-Muslim bias would be to record the proportion of Muslims/non-Muslims who, in
accordance with their respective populations across India, were knighted or honoured by the
crown.
39
206
Consequences of Partition
The view that the Sikh refugees, and to a lesser degree the Sikhs as a pan-collective,
suffered the most in terms of the nature and scale of partition violence appears to be
consistent with the prevailing assessment within their collective memory that, in sum, ‘the
Sikhs were the worst losers of partition’.42 Having discussed, in some detail, the violence
associated with their departure, we now consider other reasons, economic, political and
cultural, for why Sikh refugees perceive their community to have as suffered the most from
partition.
Economic Consequences of Partition
The Sikh refugee collective memory tends to assume that their people suffered the largest
fiscal ‘step-down’ with respect to their pre- and post-partition livelihoods.43 A statement by
Tarlochan Singh, a Delhi-based refugee, originally from Dhudial, Jhelum district, provides
an example of this:
There’s absolutely no comparison [between life in west Punjab and east Punjab].
You see over there we were rich, we were the landholders, we had better
agricultural facilities and techniques…we had large bungalows…and then to come
to the east, where the people were backward, and very poor…and we joined them
in their poverty…I was working on the streets, doing all sorts of child labour…from
the age of thirteen, I was working hard.44
42
All refugees interviewed by this study, as well as all post-event offspring, articulated
words to this effect. Such a view has also been expressed in works written by both refugee and
non-refugee Sikhs (Gill 1975: 63, Khushwant Singh 1984: 6, Nayar and Khushwant Singh
1984: 21, Dhillon 1994: 249).
43
In his study on the Sikh refugees, which compromised 73 interviews with members of
this sub-group, Stephen Keller remarked that, ‘not one of the refugees, in designating the
changes that had occurred in his life on this side of the border (as contrasted with his life in west
Punjab), remarked that he was materially better off than he had been on the other side of the
border’ (1975: 85). Many other Sikh refugees interviewed by academics held similar views
(‘Interview with Charan Singh conducted by Prof. Ian Talbot’. Amritsar, 13 November 2002.
Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 65; ‘Interview with Tirath Singh conducted by Prof. Ian
Talbot’. Amritsar, 27 December 2003. Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 211).
44
207
Similarly, Kuldip Nayar, another Delhi-based refugee, originally from Sialkot, suggests that
out of the transfer of population,
the Muslims fared better…you see when they left India they had only land...so you can say
there’s was a step-up…[Yet in Indian Punjab] there were many homes that were
vacated…these were Muslim evacuee homes, though they were smaller than we had
been used to, these were filled by Hindu and Sikh refugees [emphasis added].45
In addition these views, there are a number of other popularly-held views as to why Sikh
refugees suffered the most in this respect.
One relates to the ‘non-Muslim’ dominance of commercial centres across West
Pakistan.46 So, for instance, Sarna suggests that one of the chief reasons for Muslim support
for the Pakistan demand was that
[b]efore partition, Hindus, and Sikhs too, used to own all the businesses…even
though Muslims were the majority; they only owned ten per cent of the
businesses…so that’s why they [the Muslims] were resentful.47
Although there is much truth in the view that non-Muslims were dominant in trading
centres across the territory of what went on to form West Pakistan, it was mainly the
Hindus who were so. This perhaps why Sikh refugees, in a bid to extract sufficient
‘usability’ from this aspect of their partition memory, tend to speak of a joint ‘Hindu and
Sikh contribution’.48 Such apparent shifts in group identification are possible because ‘every
individual belongs to numerous…groups and therefore entertains numerous self-images
and memories’ from which to draw upon (Assmann 1995: 127).
45
Such a view was subscribed to, and expounded, by prospective refugees among the
Sikhs in the months prior to partition, in the hope the British adjudicators would extend east
Punjab territory over majority Muslim districts (‘Copy of Resolution of Gurdwara Prabandhak
Committee, Saugor’. 10 July 1947—FN 2-B/47 [RPP]: 9).
47
48
It is accurate to say, that Sikh refugees have tended to refer to this aspect of their
economic loss, which inevitably highlights Hindu partition suffering as a consequence, mainly
during periods when Hindu-Sikh relations have remained cordial.
46
208
Another popularly-held view that contributes to the conviction that Sikh refugees
suffered the most economically is that, while Sikhs were responsible for transforming the
largely barren wastelands of central Punjab into the most fertile and productive agricultural
land in the country, i.e. the ‘canal colonies’, all nine of these colonies ended up in Pakistan
(Krishan 2004: 80). Admittedly, the view that the Sikhs were responsible for the success of
the canal colonies is one that was articulated both in the period shortly before the partition
of Punjab/India as well as in the subsequent decades.
Before partition, this view was expressed in the following statements:
It is significant that only those districts and regions of the Punjab, which are mainly
cultivated by the Sikh farmers, are the surplus food districts…By sheer dint of their
hard work, the Sikhs have not only made barren and waste lands fertile but also
have created an insatiable desire amongst the Punjabis for canal-irrigated land
which has incidentally raised the price of land (Harnam Singh 1945: 64-65).
Sikhs are the best farmers in India and are in fact the only successful colonisers of
new lands. By their hard work they have made the deserts of Montgomery and
Lyallpore blossom into a peasant’s paradise (Gyani Kartar Singh 1947: 2).
After partition:
The two and half millions that were expelled from Pakistan had been the richest
peasantry of India owning large estates in the canal colonies (Khushwant Singh
1984: 6).
We Sikhs had built up those canal colonies through our own hard toil and
painstaking efforts…My grandfather was one of the early ones to go over [from east
Punjab] and take a gamble on transforming these jungles into productive
lands…and then to have been driven from our homes, our livelihoods…by the
communal poison unleashed upon us by those politicians and other self-seeking
209
persons, sitting in the comfort of their homes in places far away…well you can
guess how painful it was for us.49
However, this view might be challenged by pointing out that Sikhs only became
agriculturalists there in the first place because they were ‘awarded’ these plots by the
British. In fact, a Delhi-based refugee originally from Haripur, NWFP, conceded that ‘the
British made us [Sikhs] the landowners in the years after they annexed the Punjab’.50 Yet,
given post-partition trends, there is no evidence to suggest that Muslim or Hindu farmers,
even had they been awarded such land grants, would have shown equal pastoral aptitude to
that shown by the Sikhs.
A third reason advanced for why Sikhs were relatively more disadvantaged
economically by partition is that, because a larger proportion of their pan-collective
suffered dislocation relative to the other groups, and since they were moving from a
relatively sparsely-populated area to a dense one, the Sikhs suffered more graded land-cuts
and/or landlessness in post-partition India than any other group.51 Based on 1941 Census
of India information (albeit not entirely reliable data), Sikhs as a pan-collective did indeed
suffer proportionally more dislocation, both at the level of Punjab and all-India. However,
if we focus absolute numbers, rather than proportion of the population, it is clear that there
were actually far more Hindu and Muslim refugees than there were Sikhs. This is a rare
instance in which it has made sense for the Sikh refugees to elide their partition memory
with the wider pan-Sikh one, so as to constitute the biggest victims.
49
Interview with Dr Mohinder Singh. Delhi, 21 August 2010.
51
All refugees interviewed by this study articulated words to this effect. Of course, such
grievance is not without foundation, since, ‘[a]s against an area of 67 lakh acres of land
abandoned by the Hindu-Sikh landowners in West Pakistan, only 47 lakh acres were available
in East Punjab. The gap in area was not bad enough but the position was actually much worse
when we consider the factors like fertility of soil and means of irrigation. The Hindu-Sikh landowners left 43 lakh acres of irrigated land as against 13 lakh acres of irrigated land left by the
Muslims. Out of the irrigated area left in West Pakistan by the Hindu-Sikh refugees, 22 lakh
acres were perennially irrigated as against only 4 lakh acres of such land left by the Muslims in
East Punjab’ (Mohinder Singh Randhawa quoted in Keller 1975: viii)
50
210
Source: Spate 1948: 8
Map 8 Competing Territorial Claims over Punjab
211
Political Consequences of Partition
In addition to the economic consequences of partition, the Sikh refugee collective tends to
hold that they, and their wider pan-ethnic community, bore the heaviest political costs from
the partition of India. It should be noted that these political consequences probably are
among the most malleable aspect of the Sikh refugee collective memory. Consequently, the
discussion here will restrict itself to only analysing those aspects which have remained
largely unchanged since 1947. These include the following two commonly expressed, but
somewhat contradictory, views.
One view is that, irrespective of whether or not they agreed with the decision to
partition Punjab and/or India, the Radcliffe Line, which cut across Punjab, was unjust
and, specifically, did not extend far west enough (see Map 8).52 Sikh refugees have sensible
grounds for this claim; 1) the 1941 census figures used to ascertain majority Muslim and
non-Muslim areas across Punjab, despite being highly suspect,53 were taken as authoritative
by the Boundary Commission;54 2) in the months prior to the partition of Punjab/India
being officially agreed upon in June 1947, the non-Muslim population between the Chenab
and Ravi (territories that ended up in Pakistan) had materially increased owing to refugee
movements from the March 1947 disturbances, and thus the 1941 census figures were even
less representative of the ‘facts on the ground’;55 3) the non-Muslims of Punjab were
effectively awarded less than 38 per cent of the territory of British Punjab despite
constituting approximately 43 per cent of its population, and less than 43 per cent of the
52
While all Sikh refugees could credibly express regret at the outcome of the Radcliffe
Line, clearly those living in districts adjoining to the new Indian border (as opposed to those
from places such as Attock and further afield) held greater grounds to do so. This was because
those areas actually held a more ‘realistic’ chance of being awarded to India given that they
inhabited a more substantial non-Muslim population, more of their religious sites and landed
property etc. A boundary line extending further west then had transpired, perhaps closer to the
Chenab for example, would have benefitted those Sikhs living in outlying western districts only
from the point of view that they would have had less ‘enemy territory’ to cross before reaching
India.
53
Concerns that the 1941 census Punjab population figures had been duped in favour of
the Muslim count were expressed by a number of Sikhs in the lead up to partition (Harnam
Singh 1945: 65; ‘Copy of Resolution of Gurdwara Prabandhak Committee, Saugor’. 10 July
1947—FN 2-B/47 [RPP]: 5, 13). Even Oskar Spate, openly in favour of the Muslim case in
Punjab, admitted that sections of the 1941 census were ‘grossly inaccurate’ (1947: 201, 208).
54
The Tribune 1947d.
55
The Division of the Punjab 1947: 3.
212
entire Punjab inclusive of the princely states despite constituting over 47 per cent of its total
population;56 and 4) the ‘other factors’57 which Radcliffe was supposed to take into
consideration, did not appear to have made a significant difference to the ultimate
boundary line.58
However, it is clear that there are important points which the Sikh refugees have, in
order to maintain an untarnished ‘victimhood-rich’ narrative, conveniently ignored or at
least downplayed. This adds sustenance to Pierre Nora’s claim that memory ‘only
accommodates those facts that suit it’ (1989: 8). For the Sikh refugees, the facts that do not
suit their ‘victimhood-narrative’ include; 1) not all non-Muslims were necessarily in favour
of union with India over Pakistan (though they were evidently treated as such by
Radcliffe);59 2) the non-Muslim population (particularly the Sikhs) were more thinly spread
across Punjab compared to the Muslim one, hence making it difficult to draw a border
which would be more reflective of their pan-Punjab population; 3) that the Sikh leadership
(and admittedly the INC too), while they managed to include ‘other factors’ in the official
criteria for the division, failed to specify its prescribed weight. Moreover, they even agreed
with a Muslim League memorandum that stated the boundary
56
These are based on the 1941 census figures which, as mentioned, were almost
certainly not an accurate depiction of the numerical strength of the respective communities
across Punjab. As such the ‘disjuncture’ between land awarded and population, was likely far
wider in reality than these figures suggest.
57
According to its terms of reference: ‘The Boundary Commission is instructed to
demarcate the boundaries of the two parts of the Punjab on the basis of ascertaining the
contiguous majority areas of Muslims and non-Muslims. In doing so it will also take into
account other factors’ (‘Statement of Justice Teja Singh’. Boundary Commission: Partition
Proceedings [1947] Vol.2—Acc No.1634 [PKSMC]: 81). Naturally, Hindus and Sikhs believed
that the division of Punjab along communal lines alone would be prejudicial to their interests
and hence lobbied to include ‘other factors’ which they may have assumed would incorporate
items such as land ownership, historical sites, geographical boundaries etc.
58
The Pakistani state line in this respect has tended to hold that India was unfairly
awarded with Gurdaspur district despite its 51 per cent Muslim majority (as per the 1941
census). It must be said that India did not gain/retain the full district, only the majority (with
most of its Shakargarh tehsil going to Pakistan), furthermore the district-level was never taken
as the basic unit of division and even if it had been, then surely the Indian side had even more of
a gripe to pick with the Boundary Award given that the Chittagong Hill Tracts, with its 97 per
cent non-Muslim majority, was awarded to East Pakistan (After Partition 1948: 31).
59
For instance, many Christian Punjabis preferred to remain in, or migrate to, Pakistan.
213
should be a workable and practicable boundary from the point of view of
administration and…should not be a crazy line running backwards and forwards
over the areas of several districts and in and out of every village in those districts so
as to result not in the separation of the two parts of Province which might each be
constituted into a Province.60
By agreeing with this memorandum, the Sikh (and Hindu) leadership effectively ‘shot
themselves in the foot’ when trying to make the case for potential corridors linking
important non-Muslim cultural sites, such as Nankana Sahib, with truncated Indian
territory; and 4) the Sikh leadership’s continual indecisiveness and confusion as to their
political demands in the lead up to partition—i.e. whether they wanted an
autonomous/independent Azad Punjab in which they would constitute a minority but hold
a legislative ‘balance of power’ between the three main communities, an independent
Khalistan, to join Pakistan, or push for a divided Punjab in order to join partitioned India
(and if the latter specifying their preference for where the boundary should rest)61—
arguably weakened their bargaining position vis-à-vis the British.
There is a second commonly-held view as to why their people bore the heaviest
political costs from partition. This is the view that the Sikhs were the only community,
recognised as such by the British imperial overlords, not to secure anything tangible as a
result of the division.62 The Sikhs were given neither a political entity nor constitutional
Quoted in ‘Statement of Mehr Chand Mahajan’. Boundary Commission: Partition
Proceedings [1947] Vol.2—Acc No.1634 [PKSMC]: 12.
61
It is clear that the Sikhs were internally torn between calling for the Boundary Line to
be drawn along the Jhelum, Chenab or the Ravi (‘Letter to Sir Stafford Cripps from Master Tara
Singh’. 30 May 1942—Acc No.2018 [PKSMC]; Hindustan Times 1946, The Tribune 1947e,
The Tribune 1947f, Gyani Kartar Singh 1947: 3, 9). Arguably, none displayed more confusion
in this respect than Master Tara Singh himself.
62
Demonstrating this point, an Amritsar-based refugee originally from Malkpur,
Lyallpur district, remarked that, ‘Sikhs did not get anything except suffering out of all this
migration. If the Sikhs had got something, we could have lived as far as Nankana Sahib’
(‘Interview with Kuljeet Kaur conducted by Prof. Ian Talbot’. Amritsar, 19 February 2003.
Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 140). Though constituting a core component of the Sikh
refugee collective memory, such associated grievances are found within the non-refugee Sikhs’
memory of partition—and for good reason, given that the inability of the SAD to secure
anything ‘tangible’ as a result of partition impacted the non-refugees as much as it did refugees.
It is probably only those refugees that had held political or administrative posts within west
Punjab/West Pakistan who could credibly claim to have suffered more in this respect than their
non-refugee co-religionists in the east.
60
214
guarantees regarding the security of their communal autonomy. The deep-felt sense of
injustice in this regard is aptly conveyed by Master Tara Singh’s now infamous statement
of 1961: ‘The Hindus got Hindustan, the Muslims got Pakistan, what did the Sikhs get?’
This statement is constantly paraphrased by Sikhs (especially those with a communal
and/or Khalistani political leaning). Consider the following statements by Sikh
interviewees:
[After Partition] circumstances for the Hindus had changed that they became masters.
Things had changed for the Muslims that they got Pakistan, but the Sikhs did not get
anything at all [emphasis added].63
It [partition] was a betrayal of the Sikhs…we, having been rulers of Punjab prior to
the British taking it in trust, were left to beg like dogs for scraps from the likes of the
Congress when they [the British] left…and to compound it all, the Hindus they got
their Hindustan, the Muslims, they got their Pakistan and, let me say some of the most
fertile lands which we had created single handed…and the Sikhs, well…what did we
get?...After independence we had to fight for years just to obtain a linguistic state
even…Yet, in spite of this we continued to make unparalleled contribution to India
in all wars, in Kashmir [1947-1948], 1962, 1965, then Bangladesh [war in
1971]…only to get our long awaited recognition from the Brahmin rulers in the
form of the rape of our most precious site…Harmindar Sahib…our Vatican
[emphasis added].64
I think proportionately we were massively hit more than the other
communities…but I think there’s something…even more unjust about [partition] if
you’re looking at it from the perspective of the losses of the groups involved, and
that is that the Hindus got Hindustan, the Muslims got Pakistan, and the Sikhs got nothing
[emphasis added].65
This point of view has credible basis since the INC and the AIML, recognised as having the
mandate of the franchised Hindus and Muslims, were awarded with Hindustan/truncated
‘Interview with Hukum Singh conducted by S. L. Manchanda’. New Delhi, 4 April
1976. Acc No.344 [OHC]: 72).
64
Interview with Avtar Singh Kohli. Amritsar, 19 September 2010.
65
63
215
India and Pakistan respectively. However, it still merits scrutiny. It might be argued, for
instance, that; 1) the Hindus did not actually get ‘Hindustan’66 at all, but in fact India
remained a ‘secular’, some would say ‘pseudo-secular’67 state; 2) that the Sikh leadership
was offered independence and even union with Pakistan (which ‘officially’ included a
proposed autonomous Sikh unit), but themselves opted for union with India instead; 3) the
fact that Punjab was partitioned at all was arguably more out of British consideration for
Sikh sentiments than the numerically larger Hindu Punjabi populace; and 4) that the
demographic upheaval across Punjab, created in large part due the Sikh (and Muslim)
leadership’s wishes and actions, actually resulted in the concentration of the Sikh
population along the border districts of Punjab (see Map 5)—which, while not resulting in
a Sikh majority Khalistan as some may had hoped for, made the subsequent Punjabi suba
movement vis-à-vis the Indian state a feasible one.
Cultural Consequences of Partition
Unlike economic, and to a lesser degree political, the cultural losses associated with
partition are, for obvious reasons, quite difficult to objectively assess. Nevertheless the
common perception among Sikh refugees, as expressed in their collective memory of their
exile, is that they and their community suffered the most in this respect.68 There are two
factor commonly cited in this regard.
The first factor in support of this is that Lahore, with its deep Sikh historical
association, ended up in Pakistan.69 Although Lahore did indeed serve as the capital of
Maharajah Ranjit Singh’s empire, it is also a city that had links with the Hindus and
66
While we can appreciate the multiple connotations associated with this term, it should
be noted that in mid-twentieth century Indian politics it became increasingly synonymous with
the idea of a Hindu-dominated successor state to British India.
67
Many Hindus, typically those considered as falling within the ‘Hindu-right’ category,
tend to hold this view.
68
Grievances pertaining to the cultural losses resulting from partition are not exclusive
to the Sikh refugees. With the exception of those Sikh refugees who manned gurdwaras or lived
in the direct vicinity of such sites/towns across West Pakistan, non-refugee Sikhs have near
equal grounds for identifying with such losses within their own partition memory.
69
‘Interview with Sardar Mangal Singh conducted by Dr Hari Dev Sharma’.
Chandigarh, 21 June 1973. Acc No.408 [OHC]: 159.
216
Muslims too. Consequently, it is purely a matter of opinion as to which community had the
deepest association with it.
The second factor, and one far more important than the first, is that, given the
approximately 150 important Sikh gurdwaras and religious sites70 (including Nankana
Sahib) which ended up falling under Pakistani jurisdiction on the eve of partition, the
proportion of significant holy land that the Sikhs lost surpassed that of the Hindus or
Muslims.71 It is difficult to argue with the view that the Sikhs as a community lost
proportionally was greater than that of the Hindus or Muslims. Though the extent of the
Sikhs’ geographical remit was, historically speaking, subcontinent wide (and perhaps even
beyond if one takes into account Guru Nanak’s travels to Baghdad), the overwhelming
concentration of ‘historic events and memories’ occurred in and around the Punjab plains.
Anthony Smith observes:
The holy deeds of ‘our ancestors’ may also confer a sacred quality on an
ethnoscape. These legendary or historical figures are venerated by the people for the
benefits, material and spiritual, that they bestow on the community, and for the
divine blessings they bring on the people. So the places where holy men and heroes
walked and taught, fought and judged, prayed and died, are felt to be holy
themselves; their tombs and monuments became places of veneration and
pilgrimage, testifying to the glorious and sacred past of the ethnic community
(1999: 153).
It was thus, ‘not the loss of territory tout court which provoke[d] the special pain, but the
loss of territory [that was] situated within [their] imagined homeland’, namely Punjab
(Billig 1995: 75)
70
Interview with Paramjit Singh Sarna. Delhi, 21 August 2010. The view that Punjab,
owing to the existence of these shrines, stood as their holy land was expressed by politically
active Sikhs prior to partition (Gyani Kartar Singh 1947: 1, Harnam Singh 1945: 64).
71
Vachan Kaur quoted in Verma 2004: 134; Interview with Tarlochan Singh. Delhi, 19
August 2010; Interview with Dr Mohinder Singh. Delhi, 21 August 2010; Interview with
Paramjit Singh Sarna. Delhi, 21 August 2010; Interview with Kuldip Nayar. Delhi, 29 August
2010.
217
Though the Indus Valley was the cradle of Vedic philosophy and science, the
cultural heartland of the Hindus had long shifted to the Gangetic belt (though clearly the
division of Bharat Mata was undoubtedly extremely difficult painful for culturally conscious
Hindus). As for the Muslims, the Pakistanis among them effectively ‘lost’ numerous IndoIslamic cultural sites. However, because most Muslims remained behind in India, these
sites did not suffer the dereliction to the same extent that non-Muslims sites in Pakistan did.
Summary
In sum, it is demonstrable that Sikh refugees as a sub-group, owing to a substantial degree
of overlap in their individual partition narratives, do indeed hold their own collective
memory of partition. This consists of both memories of their violent departure, and the
permanent material consequences of partition (economic, political and cultural). However,
as the discussion makes apparent, not all of the aspects associated with the Sikh refugee
collective memory were restricted solely to members of this sub-group. Rather, owing to a
combination of shared experiences and shared contemporary interests, there has been a
degree of convergence between the various group and sub-group narratives—especially
between the Sikh refugees and the non-refugee Sikhs. This reveals that collective memory
cannot be understood as a phenomenon which exists in a vacuum. It is worth emphasising,
as well, that the aspects of collective memory that have been discussed are those which
have remained largely unchanged through time. The shape and potency of these memories
can only become apparent by considering the contextual conditions impinging upon them
at the time of recall (see RQ-3).
II. Is there evidence to suggest that aspects of the Sikh refugee collective
memory of partition have diffused into the consciousness of their nonrefugee ethnic kin and post-event offspring?
It is clear that Sikh refugees did indeed hold a collective memory of their exile (see RQ-1).
We need to turn to a consideration of whether and to what extent aspects of it have
diffused and become part of the consciousness of their non-refugee ethnic kin and their
218
post-event offspring. To explore this question, we will; first, observe how the diffusion
process occurred; second, why it did so; and third, what aspects of the Sikh refugee
collective memory the non-refugees actually appropriated.
How Diffusion Occurred
As established earlier (see Chapter 1: 60-61), the diffusion process takes place during
instances of ‘personalised interaction’ between refugee and non-refugee ethnic kin/postevent offspring. In the case of the Sikhs, the channels for this were not uniform, but
occurred through one, or a combination of, visual, verbal or traumatic forms of
transmission (Freud 1955: 13, Ehlers and Steil 1995: 217-218).
The most intense form of diffusion that took place was probably that of visual
transmission, with some non-refugee Sikh respondents admitting that mere sight of the
arriving refugees alone provoked them to contemplate, and often even indulge in,
‘retributive’ violence against the largely innocent body of Muslims residing in east Punjab.
Consider, in this light, the statement of Balbir Singh, a non-refugee from Ludhiana:
I remember swells of refugees coming into [Ludhiana], theirs was a plight of utter
destruction…I must admit that there was a feeling among the Sikhs on this side that
we should avenge them…and expel the Muslims forthwith.72
The question might legitimately be raised as to how ‘the sight’ of the incoming Sikh
refugees alone, could trigger, not only a diffusion of aspects of the refugee memory into the
consciousness of the non-refugees, but to do so to such an extent that it would result in
localised violence against the Muslim population. When probed about the dialogues he had
with the Sikh refugees during the partition disturbances, Balbir Singh replied as follows:
Surprisingly, I did not speak to many refugees at the time, though there were many
around…You see when a man has lost everything, not all wish to talk about it…but
there were many times when I saw grown men carrying nothing but a small child in
72
Interview with Balbir Singh. Ludhiana, 1 September 2010.
219
their arms…Now you must understand, at that time, men did not walk around
[publically] carrying their children, that is not [in] our culture…so it did not take a
genius to realise that this poor man’s wife was not with him, and that in all
probability she had been abducted or killed before reaching India…Naturally such
sights stir all types of emotion in you.73
Similarly Aridaman Singh Dhillon, another non-refugee Sikh, from Amritsar, recalls that
[a] large number of trains taking…Sikhs and Hindus to India were stopped by the
local [Muslim] marauders and almost each and every passenger killed…and those
trains arrived [in Amritsar] with all those murdered people inside it…sort of as a
message.74
These statements suggest how, by relying largely upon an astute deductive logic in
combination with a general awareness of the unfolding scenario (i.e. related reports in the
printed press), it was possible for non-refugee Sikhs to appropriate, with some measure of
accuracy, refugee memories largely via visual transmission alone.75 Nevertheless, even for
those non-refugee Sikhs who engaged in this visual form of transmission, it is almost
certain they would have participated in other forms of diffusion as well.
As far as verbal transmission is concerned, this occurred when refugees consciously
evoked an oral narration of their exilic experiences for a non-refugee audience. This was
not restricted to the immediate period following their arrival and, thus, was open to both
non-refugee ethnic kin and post-event offspring. Though verbal transmission increased the
potential scope for the diffusion process to occur, clearly the absence of a tangible visual
image for post-event offspring and those non-refugees born after 1947 to cross-reference
such descriptions against served to weaken the potential intensity of their appropriated
73
75
It should be noted however, that owing to the fact many of these refugees were
quickly rehabilitated into mainstream Indian society—whether through attainment of evacuee
property, land grants or employment—their ‘visually’ destitute status only remained apparent
for a few months, or at most a few years, after their arrival. Therefore, this visual form of
diffusion only occurred horizontally: that is to say across into their co-ethnics as opposed to
downwards to their post-event offspring.
74
220
memory. Nevertheless, those non-refugees who participated in this form were, in all
likelihood, able to obtain a far more detailed and comprehensible version of the refugee
memory than those who relied purely upon visual means—though as will become apparent
later, refugees did not always fully or accurately describe their experiences during such verbal
exchanges, nor did the non-refugees always appropriate such memories without a measure
of distortion.
As with the verbal form of transmission, traumatic transmission was not restricted
to the immediate period after arrival. However it was post-event offspring more than nonrefugee ethnic kin, on account of tending to live within the same household as their refugee
parents/grandparents, who, in parallel with children of Holocaust survivors (Barocas and
Barocas 1979: 331, Goertz 1998: 33), encountered this form of diffusion.76 Once again, it
was rare that non-refugees would rely on this form of diffusion alone for developing their
understanding of partition. Yet for many post-event offspring, only after learning about the
nature of their family’s experience of partition much later in their own life, did they, in
hindsight, realise the underlying cause behind such traumatic outbursts. In an interview
with this author, post-event offspring Massa Singh recalled the following:
In my early childhood, my father would, many times, scream [in his sleep] the
name, ‘Sukhdev!’, ‘Sukhdev!’…we [he and his siblings] used to get quite frightened
by this…it was only much later on that I learnt he was calling after his brother [who
had been] burnt alive at the time of partition.77
Although, along with visual, traumatic transmission appears to be the least accessible form
of refugee partition memory permissible for non-refugees, it was undeniable that the
intensity of such appropriated memory remained quite high.
This view is supported by an oral history study of partition: ‘Several among the
younger generation have a family history of Partition memories transmitted to them by their
grandparents. Interestingly, such transmissions have mainly occurred in moments of delirium,
fever or disorientation, but seldom as a conscious act of sharing the past or narrating an event’
(Verma 2004: xiii).
77
76
221
Why Diffusion Occurred
Having described how the diffusion process manifested itself, we now consider why it
occurred at all. In this regard, it must be appreciated that both the Sikh refugees and nonrefugees had their own set of motives for allowing this process to occur.
Refugees
While many Sikh refugees were engaged in all these forms of transmission, it was only
through verbal means that they consciously chose to evoke their memory of partition.
However, even with respect to this single form of transmission, their reasons for doing so
were not uniform. They usually involved one or a combination of the following reasons.
The first reason is that they felt that evoking a memory of their traumatic
experiences in conversation with those inclined to offer a compassionate ear (i.e. nonrefugee ethnic kin/post-event offspring), might have therapeutic value in terms of their own
psychological healing process (Hamber 2002: 86). Undoubtedly, whether or to what extent
refugees engaged in a verbal transmission of their partition memory to a non-refugee
audience, if at all, largely depended upon the level of sympathy the latter granted the
former. There is evidence to suggest that some non-refugees—in striking similarity to the
situation faced by Holocaust survivors in Israeli society, during the 1950s and 1960s, that
were condemned for going like ‘sheep to the slaughter’ (Zerubavel 1994: 86-87, Wistrich
1997: 17)—and, even senior statesmen, adopted a discourteous attitude towards refugees by
referring to them as ‘cowards’78 or ‘pathetic people…not masculine enough’79 to protect
their property and land. In such circumstances, the diffusion process would have come to
an abrupt halt. However, even when a sympathetic audience were available, memory was
not always evoked because, as previously discussed, it remained, for some, too traumatic to
78
Speaking with reference to the Hindus and Sikhs evacuating north-western Punjab
following Muslim-led massacres against them, Dr Lehna Singh Sethi MLA, suggested in April
1947, ‘For a minority to quit like this is both suicidal and unwise, in fact this [is tantamount] to
cowardice’ [emphasis added] (The Tribune 1947g).
79
Heera Lal quoted in Verma 2004: 47.
222
recall. 80 Contributing to this trauma was, in addition to the memory of partition and its
associated violence, the distinct lack of justice that followed. In this regard, Rajendra Kaur,
a Delhi-based refugee originally from Rawalpindi, in reply to her interviewer Meenakshi
Verma, said: ‘You have been repeatedly asking me why I do not want to speak about
Partition. The reason is that the murderers were never caught’ (quoted in Sunday Times of
India 1997). Indeed, it can be said that many of those judged to be ‘responsible’, whether
directly or indirectly, for the carnage, actually went on to secure top governmental posts,
with others even going on to be hailed as the heroes and founding fathers of the Indian and
Pakistani nations respectively!
A second reason that refugees engaged in verbal forms of transmission was that, in
many ways, it justified their ‘sorry plight’ in India and helped them gain the sympathy of
non-refugees, who may have initially resented the refugees laying claim to Muslim evacuee
property during the partition period (Keller 1975: 69). Even beyond the immediate period
following partition, especially in cases where refugees had not attained the socio-economic
status in India that they felt their efforts warranted, evoking such a memory of their former
lands of ‘milk and honey’ certainly helped to demonstrate what they were capable of
achieving in the absence of an overarching ‘Brahmin-Bania rule’. It also placed their
contemporary successes, which some other groups in India deemed that they ought to be
content with, into a more sobering perspective. Indeed, few post-event offspring challenged
this aspect of the refugee memory; for in many ways their self-perception (especially if they
were socio-economically disadvantaged at the time of recall) rested upon their family’s prepartition status.81
80
Hukam Chand Hans, Facts Finding Officer for the Ministry of Relief and
Rehabilitation, wrote in one of his reports that: ‘Many young Hindu and Sikh girls were forcibly
abducted in the March [1947] disturbances…Generally by instinct of nature, Hindu [and Sikh]
witnesses are reluctant to narrate the harrowing tale of woe of suffering suffered by their
womenfolk. About three hundred beautiful young girls and ladies were subjected to carnal
dishonour and abducted in these tragic events’ [emphasis added] (‘Memo: Haranpur Village,
Jhelum District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi—Acc No.1600 [PKSMC]: 2324).
81
According to Daniel Schacter, a ‘sense of ourselves depends crucially on the
subjective experience of remembering our pasts’ (1996: 34).
223
A third reason, and in contrast to the previous point, is that recounting their
experiences gave Sikh refugees a sense of superiority over those native to the territory of
truncated India. This demonstrates that they did not wish to be viewed solely as victims of
persecution (Robbins 1956: 317). In this regard, refugee accomplishments in post-partition
India, whether in commercial pursuits or in politics, appear all the more remarkable when
one considers their destitute status on the eve of partition. Sarna, who, apart from having
served as head of the DSGMC, became a highly successful industrialist in post-partition
India, proudly recalls the character displayed by the Sikh refugees after partition and places
‘their’ positive traits in stark contrast those of the non-refugee Sikhs:
We [Sikh refugees] are more entrepreneurial, more religious minded, we don’t
believe in begging, we never asked anyone for anything…It was sheer hard work and
will that got us through [their destitution following partition]…we got absolutely no help
from the government…1984 was 26 years ago, yet ninety per cent of them are still relying
on hand-outs!…We came here with nothing, maybe one or two per cent top
managed to transfer their assets, since nobody knew this was going to be a
permanent arrangement [emphasis added].82
However, though post-event offspring seemingly appropriated such memories largely intact
throughout the period from 1947 to the present, co-ethnics have tended to selectively
appropriate only those aspects which highlight ‘Sikh’ traits of business acumen and hardwork rather than what are perceived to be caste, region83 or refugee-specific ones.
The fourth reason for refugee engagement in the diffusion process is far more
sinister, namely to covet non-refugees to exact on their behalf, or at least assist them in
getting, revenge against ‘the partition culprits’ in the east.84 In the immediate period
82
Sikhs from Majha doab, a territory which fell largely on the Pakistan side of the
Radcliffe Line, tend to consider themselves superior to their co-religionists in east Punjab
(Oberoi 1994: 43).
84
One eye-witness stated in the aftermath of the March 1947 disturbances in
Rawalpindi and Attock districts, that: ‘I went to the camps in which the refugee of various
villages had been stationed and enquired from the leading persons of those places as to what had
happened to them. Women and children with tears in their eyes and sobbing throats surrounded
me and asked me through their silent looks to convey to their countrymen and community the lot
83
224
following their arrival, their memories of their exile, undoubtedly seem to have contributed
to the genocidal violence and ethnic-cleansing of the Muslims in east Punjab. It also
appears to be the case that certain refugees evoked such memories, albeit significantly remoulded in shape, in attempting to incite anti-Hindu violence during the Khalistan
movement. Surinder Singh Grewal, a non-refugee who admitted to ‘knowing people’
(fellow Jats) that took part in the militancy, maintains that
Jats are more temperamental in nature than other Sikhs, so I suppose you could say
we are, in the main, more prone towards answering the call for protection of our
dharma…they [his Jat Sikh militant friends] got financial backing from the Bhapas…they
[the Bhapas] would tell them that the Sikhs were forced out of the most prosperous parts of
Punjab in 1947 due to Muslim terrorism on the one side and Nehru’s and [Mohandas]
Gandhi’s actions on other, even after they [the Congress leaders] had sworn to us [Sikhs] that
partition [of India] would only take place over their dead bodies…and on top of what had
happened in Delhi after Indira’s assassination, and what was happening all across
Punjab with all this state terror and fake encounters…weren’t the Sikhs within their
rights to return the favour [emphasis added]?85
Non-Refugees
As with the Sikh refugees, there were a large number of potential motives that led the nonrefugees to become involved in the diffusion process.
The first motive is that there was a natural desire on behalf of the non-refugees to
sympathise with victims sharing their ethnic, in this case religious, identity. Stories
pertaining to the beards of Sikh men being trimmed off, their gurdwaras and religious texts
being desecrated, certainly made many non-refugee Sikhs aware that, but for living in a
majority non-Muslim area, it could easily have been them or their families that had
suffered such barbarities. The subsequent events of 1984, in particular the Delhi pogroms,
which has befallen them at the very hands of their own neighbours with whom they
had…peacefully lived together for centuries’ [emphasis added] (‘Statement of Joginder Singh to
SGPC regarding Rawalpindi and Attock District Disturbances’. 24 March 1947—Acc No.1457
[PKSMC]: 2). Though it is not certain that the ‘women and children’ in this case necessarily
wanted non-refugees to seek revenge, it is very likely that they would have drew some solace
from subsequent expulsions of Muslims in the east.
85
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in which there were numerous incidents reminiscent of the partition violence (see Chapter
2: 121-125), contributed towards the diffusion process occurring to a heightened extent.86
Urvashi Butalia, in The Other Side of Silence, conceded this:
It took the events of 1984 to make me understand how ever-present Partition was in
our lives, too, to recognise that it could not so easily be put away inside the covers
of history books. I could no longer pretend that this was a history that belonged to
another time, to someone else (2000: 5).
A second motive, alluded to previously, was that many non-refugee Sikhs sought to
‘use’ this Sikh refugee collective memory to justify, and galvanise support for, their
contemporary material goals.87 In fact the sinister exploitation of refugee suffering by nonrefugee Sikhs and Sikh socio-political bodies aiming to drive Muslims out of east Punjab at
the time of partition was noted by Communist Party of India88 publications:
All refugee camps must be run by joint committees of patriotic parties and
individuals. They must be prevented from becoming centres for communal pro-riot
and anti-Government propaganda…We appeal to the refugees to exercise restraint and
The ‘memory’ of historical events is attractive, not so much for its own sake, but
rather owing to its relevance in the present (Klein 2000: 129).
87
Clearly such ‘usability’ of refugee partition memory was not restricted to the Sikhs.
With one Hindu Punjabi refugee recalling how, soon after the partition of India, a young
Marathi newspaper editor from Poona had come into his office advocating the cause for a
‘Hindu India’: ‘He asked me if I was a Punjabi or a UP Tandon, and when I told him where I
came from he became very eloquent. He talked at length and with feeling about the injustice to
the Punjabis, for whom, along with the Marathas, he had great respect. They were the fighters
of India, who had taken the shock of every invasion and were the last to be overcome by the
British. Right through history the Punjabis had kept their entity, faith and customs, but today for
the first time they lay broken. The land that had been theirs since the dawn of history, the flat
fertile soil between the rivers, was no longer theirs, and no one, except some abducted women,
remained behind…“It is strange” I said to him, “that I as a Punjabi should feel less strongly,
and less express my feelings, than you from so far away”. “Yes, I do feel very strongly”. And he
walked out’ [emphasis added] (Tandon 2001: 378-379). This demonstrates that, when nonrefugees have rational grounds to do so, the rate and depth of the diffusion process can be so
extensive that they may become more affected by the refugee memory than the refugees
themselves. As it turned out the editor Tandon was referring to was none other than Nathuram
Godse, the gentleman who went on to assassinate Gandhiji.
88
During this period, the Communists were among very few political bodies in India
that were willing to highlight incidents of atrocities perpetrated against the Muslims. Sadly
though, having supported the balkanization of India only weeks earlier, the Communist Party of
India held little credibility in the eyes of most non-Muslim Indians.
86
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not fall victim to the machinations of those who are trying to use their plight to continue and
extend the disorder to every province [emphasis added] (Save Punjab, Save India 1947:
14).
When refugees came straining from Rawalpindi with their tales of woe and horror
and the unspeakable atrocities committed on the minorities there, the Akali leaders
used them to rouse the spirit of retaliation among the Sikh peasants. They sent
refugees to each one of the Gurdwaras and through them and their own agents they
spread the poisonous idea of retaliation against Muslim (Dhanwantri and Joshi
1947: 8).
It is unsurprising, therefore, that during this period the rate and depth of diffusion appeared
to have been pronounced. However, it would be misleading to suggest that non-refugee
Sikhs sought to appropriate the memories of their refugee ethnic-kin for the sole purpose of
securing material gains.
In addition, and more crucially from the point of view of this research, it appears
that many Khalistanis, whether post-event offspring or non-refugee ethnic kin, appear to
carry many partition-related grievances akin to a Sikh refugee collective memory. Ranjit
Singh Srai, a Khalistani Sikh whose ancestral village is in Jalandhar district, east Punjab,
makes the following observation:
In what is now the land in Pakistan, Sikhs had some very profitable land which
they had converted from barren land into fertile…and agriculturally productive
territory and these lands were virtually exclusively Sikh lands and obviously they
were just in one, in one strike, the Sikhs were removed from their own territory,
you know…and we were never compensated for that [emphasis added].89
By speaking in terms of ‘we’, despite the fact that he cannot, at an individual nor familial
level, claim to have suffered economically as a result of partition, Srai has clearly
appropriated aspects of the Sikh refugee suffering resulting in, what this thesis terms to be,
a ‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh memory of partition.
89
227
A third motive is the retrospective value attached to the appropriation of Sikh
refugee collective memory by non-refugees. Though Sikhs were by all accounts ‘the
principal aggressors in eastern Punjab’, by attaching their memory of partition to that of the
refugees it is possible for non-refugees ethnic kin to claim that ‘they’, as a pan-collective,
were victims of partition (Brass 2006: 22). In this way, they were able to retrieve a
politically-usable partition narrative as a consequence. Thus their own brutalities can be
understood, if not condoned, as retaliation to the communal war started by the Muslims. In
his book, The Destiny of the Sikhs, Sohan Singh Sahota, a non-refugee Sikh, suggests this
when referring to the partition violence across Punjab:
The Hindus and Sikhs acted in retaliation only. Although in spite of this I do not
approve of the conduct of those Hindus and Sikhs who committed similar acts
against the Mohammadans. Such acts were a gross violation of the Sikh code of
conduct and a reversal of the high moral traditions set up by their fore-fathers. But
to a certain extent plight of their co-religionists coming from West Pakistan and the
harrowing tales of atrocities committed upon them, provoked them beyond all limits to
retaliate with equal bruteness because they thought and rightly too, that this would chasten
the Muslims in West Pakistan and save their co-religionists from further fury of the rioters. It
did have sobering effect on them no doubt [emphasis added] (1971: 86).
Despite appearing, at first, to condemn the actions of Sikhs and Hindus in east Punjab,
after placing their acts within the wider pan-Punjab context, Sahota steadily moves in the
direction of ‘understanding’ their actions, towards actually justifying them.
Balbir Singh, who admitted to helping drive the Muslims out of east Punjab during
the partition disturbances, attempted to use not only Sikh refugee collective memory to
retrospectively justify his actions, but also drew upon his wider knowledge of the plight of
non-Muslims both in the rest of Pakistan and the entire Muslim world even. When asked
whether the killing of Muslims in east, worsened the plight for the remaining non-Muslims
in west Punjab, Balbir Singh remarked with some eloquence:
228
In all honesty I’ve heard this argument before, and I see little merit in it…if we did
not retaliate in the east, do you honestly think Muslims would have ceased attacks
on the Sikhs and Hindus in Pakistan?...[No]…They would have interpreted it as
our cowardice, and in fact would have attempted to drive us out of the east
too…because they wanted the whole of Punjab for Pakistan, not just the
west…You see it is inherent in the Muslim psyche to exterminate nonMuslims…look around at all the Muslim nations in the world, can you think of any one of
those places in which the minorities are living in dignity?...So let’s say for arguments sake
that the non-Muslims of west Punjab suffered as a reaction for what the Sikhs and
Hindus were doing in the east…if that is so, then why were non-Muslims butchered
mercilessly in Sindh, Baluchistan, NWFP, Kashmir and Bengal?...What was their
crime?...Not one of them [non-Muslims] ever raised their hand against their
Muslim neighbours in those areas yet they were massacred…So you see Muslims,
led by Mr Jinnah, never intended to let minorities be in Pakistan [emphasis
added].90
What Aspects Diffused
Having described how and why the diffusion process occurred, it now needs to be
considered as to what aspects of refugee collective memory were actually evoked by the
Sikh refugees and, from this, what the non-refugees actually appropriated. It can be
confidently assumed that memory seldom diffused itself intact between refugee and nonrefugee. The former tended not to recall, nor the latter appropriate, the memory in a full or
accurate manner.
Refugees
Even for those refugees who had been consciously engaged in the diffusion process, many
simply failed to evoke a complete or accurate verbal depiction of their partition memory.
There are a number of reasons for this.
It appears, first, that many refugees simply did not have the necessary words or
literary capabilities to accurately describe their partition experiences. For instance,
90
229
Lakshman Singh Duggal, an Amritsar-based refugee originally from Rawalpindi, makes
this statement:
In many ways it is difficult for me to describe the pain we felt at that time….leaving our
homes, our belongings, everything we had worked for, for generations…but you see
it wasn’t just our homeland, it was our holy land too…we lost so many
shrines…but perhaps more painful than the loss of our shrines even, was the
dishonouring of our womenfolk…abducted, never to be seen again…You could
lose a limb, an eye, but nothing can come close to the pain you feel by losing a
daughter, sister or a wife to a Muslim…it’s this kind of pain that will eventually eat
away at a man, at an entire family even…The pain we felt I don’t think I can put into
words [emphasis added].91
Second, many refugees, wittingly or unwittingly, skewed their partition narrative.
So, for instance, it appears that certain aspects of their memory, such as the extent of their
economic prowess in West Pakistan, were often exaggerated out of sensible proportion. At
the same time, especially during contextual conditions in which their Punjabi identity
consciousness had experienced a mini-revival,92 refugees may have attempted to neutralise
the culpability of Muslim Punjabis in the partition violence. This is shown in statements
such as this: ‘when I talked to some of the survivors they said that the Muslim orders had been
indoctrinated by people who had come from UP and Bihar’ [emphasis added],93 or that, ‘most of
the people had their lives saved by people from the other communities...it wasn't all
violence...in fact, we were helped by Muslims across the border’ [emphasis added].94
A third reason many refugees failed to evoke a complete or accurate verbal
depiction of their memory is that many actually purged particular aspects from their
memory. This included certain memories—such as those surrounding the abduction/rape
91
This is particularly so in the case refugees living in parts of India outside Punjab i.e.
New Delhi (Bhag Singh quoted in Verma 2004: 66).
93
This statement was made by a Delhi-based surgeon originally from Lahore, Dr
Jagdish Chander Sarin (quoted in Ahmed 2004: 120).
94
92
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of their womenfolk, themselves converting temporarily to Islam95 or disguising as a Muslim
to escape death96—that were ‘too traumatic to recall’ or considered detrimental to their
image in the eyes of non-refugee ethnic kin and post-event offspring. In the event that
refugees did not purge such gruesome aspects from their evoked memory, it is quite
probable that the non-refugees would do so on their behalf when selectively appropriating
the refugee memory.
A fourth reason, although quite rare, is that some refugees were guilty of
disingenuously fabricating specific aspects of their evoked narrative. Kulveer Singh
Cheema, a non-refugee Sikh from Amritsar, remarked that:
Many abducted [non-Muslim] women were disowned by their families when they
were retrieved [from Pakistan], not just because they had been touched [euphemism
for rape] by Muslims but because these [refugee] families had told tall-tales to
others of how their daughters had become shaheedi by jumping into wells or burning
themselves alive.97
Non-Refugees
As mentioned earlier, non-refugee ethnic kin and post-event offspring often failed to fully
or accurately appropriate the refugee memory that they were exposed to. Again, it is
possible to cite a number of reasons for this.
First, many non-refugees who encountered the diffusion process—either through its
visual, verbal or traumatic forms—were often exposed to a broken or even
incomprehensible narrative. They consequently felt impelled to rearrange such traces, ‘fill
in the gaps’, or ‘read in between the lines’, so as to form a logical, and perhaps even
consistent, partition narrative. Though this may actually have helped the non-refugee
retrieve something close to the original refugee memory as manifest in the mind of the
evoker, it is apparent that there remained considerable scope for distortion.
‘Memo: Raipur Thana Maini Village, Shahpur District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R,
GOI, New Delhi—Acc No.1415 [PKSMC]: 92-93.
96
‘Statement of Sobha Singh regarding Lyallpur Disturbances’. 28 March 1948—Acc
No.1405 [PKSMC]: 110.
97
Interview with Kulveer Singh Cheema. Amritsar, 17 September 2010.
95
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Second, to ensure the creation/maintenance of a ‘victim narrative’ and the upkeep
of their community’s izzat at large, non-refugee Sikhs sought to, where necessary, skew the
refugee memory that they were exposed to. For instance, the book, Muslim League Attack on
Sikhs and Hindus in the Punjab 1947, complied by Gurcharan Singh Talib and commissioned
by the SGPC, states with regard to the issue of forcible conversions:
Most Hindus and Sikhs preferred death to the shameful surrender of faith, and died,
sometimes fighting and at other times with great tortures, at the hands of the sadist
religious zealots of the Muslim League. Such women as could not be abducted or
dishonoured generally escaped this shame by immolating themselves [emphasis
added] (Talib [1950] 1991: 81).
Though it is undeniably the case that many non-Muslims, including women, did indeed
martyr themselves to escape ‘dishonour’ at the hands of Muslim marauders,98 to say that
most did is a patent distortion. For example, a review of evidence regarding the partition
massacres shows that, in almost all cases, the proportion of women abducted or forcibly
converted far exceeded the amount that were said to have taken their own lives.
Another instance of what appears to be a skewing of the narrative is this following
statement regarding the partition violence by Ajrawat, a post-event offspring of a Khalistani
political disposition:
The Hindus and Muslims instigated communal violence, with Sikhs becoming the victims.
My mother’s aunt was burnt alive by Muslim mobs in her village of Nangal
Sadhan. Sikhs were burnt alive in Delhi by Hindu and Gujjar mobs. And I must point
out that there was significant Hindu violence against Muslims in India as well
[emphasis added].99
‘Memo: Akalgarh Town, Gujranwala District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI,
New Delhi. 12 April 1948—Acc No.1415 [PKSMC]: 5; ‘Memo: Talwandi Village, Gujranwala
District, Disturbances’. FFB, MR&R, GOI, New Delhi. 26 April 1948—Acc No.1415
[PKSMC]: 29.
99
98
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Though it is conceivable that Dr Paramjit Singh Ajrawat appropriated the refugee memory
of his elder family members intact, it is far more likely that his contemporary Khalistani
political stance actually shaped the memory accordingly100 so as to overstate the culpability
of Hindus in the partition violence and understate, if not completely ignore, that committed
by the Sikhs.
A third reason that non-refugee ethnic kin and post-event offspring often failed to
fully or accurately appropriate the refugee memory that they were exposed to, once again
has to do with supporting the building of a Sikh ‘victim narrative’. Here, non-refugees have
sought, when deemed necessary or desirable, to use refugee memory to ‘shift the
parameters’ of their own partition memory. In this regard, non-refugees have been able to
adjust both the timeline of the partition violence and its geographical arena to suit the
argument that Sikhs were ultimately the victims and not the victimisers
In terms of the timeline of partition violence, while both the Pakistani state
narrative and wider academic studies of the partition violence tend to focus upon events
proximate to or after 14/15 August 1947, non-refugee Sikhs have been able to alter the
‘start-point’ of the partition violence to March 1947 so as to permit the appropriation of
memory from the Sikhs displaced during the Rawalpindi and Multan massacres (Brass
2003: 88). By doing so, and bearing in mind that large-scale anti-Muslim violence in Punjab
did not commence until mid-August 1947, Sikhs (and Hindu Punjabis also) have been able
to justify their acts in the east as a reaction to the virtual civil war that the Muslims had
unleashed months prior.101 On occasions when the Pakistani state narrative has
acknowledged the March 1947 disturbances (e.g. in a report entitled The Sikh Plan in
Action), it viewed it as ‘retaliatory action’ for the act of ‘aggressiveness’ launched by the
Hindus and Sikhs, by making reference to Master Tara Singh’s infamous outburst of
‘Pakistan Murdabad’ and the subsequent anti-Muslim League protests in Lahore on 4
‘[P]resent factors tend to influence—some might want to say distort—our
recollections of the past’ (Connerton 1989: 2).
101
‘What has happened in the Rawalpindi and Multan divisions and in other parts of the
province has compelled the minorities to think of partition as the only solution of their miseries
and sad plight. It is an unfortunate solution which may lead to fratricidal feuds later on, but who
is to blame? The League has given a call for the civil war’ (The Sunday Tribune 1947).
100
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March.102 The Sikh retort here is to either suggest the Lahore protests were ‘perfectly nonviolent’ prior to being ‘fired on by the Muslim Police’ (Talib [1950] 1991: 68), or yet again
adjust the timeline by pushing back the start point of the Punjab violence to take into
account the Hazara massacres of December 1946. However since Hazara was in NWFP, it
was clear to many Sikhs that this event could potentially be construed as inapplicable to the
timeline of ‘Punjab’ partition violence. Consequently, some have formulated views that
bring Hazara firmly into the Punjab sphere, as shown in the following:
Hazara is this [east] side of the Indus, they are not Pathans.103
Hazara is not properly speaking a Pathan area; it is Punjabi-speaking, and not
Pushtu, and in its political character takes more after the Punjab, to which it is
cognate, than to the rest of the Frontier Province, which is trans-Indus in respect of
geography (Talib [1950] 1991: 52).
In terms of the geographical arena, and following on from the above point, it
appears that depending on what administrative level one chooses to focus upon largely
determines whether or not a community can be legitimately regarded as victims of the
partition violence. Clearly if the non-refugee Sikhs were to focus upon partition violence at
the level of their district,104 or Punjab east of the Radcliffe Line, then it would be quite
absurd to consider themselves, directly or indirectly, victims of the partition violence.
However, by widening the geographical arena to a Punjab-wide105or even subcontinental106
‘The Sikh Plan in Action’ 1948. Acc No.1518 [PKSMC]: 8-9.
‘Interview with Ajit Singh Sarhadi conducted by Dr Hari Dev Sharma’. Delhi, 22
June 1973. Acc No.653 [OHC]: 47.
104
On the issue of communal relations in Punjab, the then Governor, Sir Evan Jenkins,
remarked: ‘I need hardly remind you that in a district where one community is an overwhelming
majority, a heavy moral responsibility rests upon that community, the members of which should
regard the minorities as under their protection’ (The Tribune 1947e).
105
In demonstration of this, the then Maharajah of Patiala, Yadavindra Singh, in a letter
to Nehru dated 10 November 1947, seemingly justifying non-Muslim led attacks against the
Muslims across east Punjab, said: ‘People in this part of the country…have undergone terrible
sufferings, and they strongly feel that beyond a certain stage non-communalism assumes the
force of cowardice’ [emphasis added] (quoted in Copland 2002: 692).
102
103
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level, and hence incorporating the memories of the Sikh (and perhaps other non-Muslim)
refugees in the process, then suddenly it would appear that it was the Muslims who had
started off the chain of killings.
A fourth reason, and as alluded to earlier, was that many non-refugees purged
certain aspects of the refugee memory upon appropriation. In demonstration, statements
made by refugees suggesting a degree of self-blame, whether at an individual or communal
level, with regards to partition and its associated violence—such as ‘we treated the Muslims
badly, that is why they hated us’ or ‘if we had allowed the formation of the Muslim League
ministry none of this [violence] would have happened’—were readily purged by the nonrefugees.
Summary
Overall, it can be said that the diffusion process between Sikh refugees and non-refugee
Sikhs did indeed occur, and so, through all three means of transmission—visual, verbal and
traumatic. This diffusion process resulted in the non-refugee Sikhs acquiring, with varying
degrees of intensity, a ‘refugee-tinge’ to their own memory of partition. Indeed, it can be
said that the Sikh refugee memory serves as the very life-blood for the non-refugee ethnic kin’s own
partition memory, for without appropriating aspects of the former, the latter would not only
be devoid of sufficient ‘usability’ but in fact could well serve detrimental towards the
realisation of pan-Sikh political/material goals. It is evident that both Sikh refugees and
non-refugee Sikhs had their own set of motives both for why they participated in this
process and what they chose to evoke or appropriate during such exchanges. Clearly,
during periods when the contemporary interests of both refugees and non-refugees seemed
aligned, the diffusion process took place at a greater rate and depth. It is also reasonable to
assume that for the non-refugee Sikhs who were most involved in this diffusion process,
namely those living in areas of high refugee concentration, partition as an event occupied a
In this case, the non-refugees would identify with their ‘non-Muslim’ religious
identity rather than Sikh, and hence incorporate into ‘their’ memory the Direct Action sparked
Great Calcutta Killings in July/August 1946 and Noakahli/Tipperah in early October 1946.
106
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far more prominent position in their contemporary consciousness than it did for others.
Consequently, in areas where refugee presence was sparse, not only was there less scope for
the diffusion process to take place but there also appeared to be a far weaker ‘refugee tinge’
to the partition of memory held by such Sikhs. Demonstrating this point, the diasporan
interviewee Gurcharan Singh, who grew up in Meerut, UP, where comparatively few Sikh
refugees settled, demonstrated an extremely impartial assessment of the partition sorrow:
‘The suffering that was attached with [partition]…was endured by Sikhs, Muslims, Hindus
and all…it depends what community you belong…you think your suffering was worse than
the other’. 107 However, it remains to be seen as to whether heightened consciousness
contributed towards had tangible behavioural implications for the individual(s) concerned.
The answers to the following research questions should provide more clarity in this regard.
III. Has the shape and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh
While there are elements which have remained largely unchanged since 1947 (see RQ-1),
this section will attempt to identify whether indeed ‘memory itself has a history’ (Olick
1998: 381) by way of the overall shape and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ panSikh collective memory being subject to modification through time (including during the
period of the Khalistan movement).
Shape and Potency
Based on their experiences in West Pakistan, it was hardly surprising that, immediately
upon their arrival into truncated India, Sikh refugees and those non-refugee ethnic kin who
had engaged in a diffusion process with the former held a partition memory that was highly
anti-Muslim/anti-Pakistan in shape.108 Indeed, it has been claimed that refugees
107
Sardar Mohinder Singh, on August 15 1947, was part of a group outside Delhi’s
famous Red Fort ‘shouting “Pakistan Murdabad” [Death to Pakistan], and calling for the
108
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can be political symbols because they personify by their mere existence a profound
criticism of the state they have fled. Their flight implies that conditions are either
unsafe or undesirable—that, in short, their state has failed to provide them with the
minimum requirements of life, instead forcing them to leave at high personal risk
(Benard 1986: 620).
Aspects of the Sikh refugees’ ‘violent departure’ from West Pakistan (see RQ-1), that
inescapably stirred up anti-Muslim/anti-Pakistan sentiment,109 were given particularly
heightened prominence during moments of recall at the expense of the ‘material
consequences’ of partition (see RQ-1) which, by their nature, were far more malleable and
hence not necessarily predestined to take an anti-Muslim/anti-Pakistan shape.
Although, in the direct aftermath of partition, the Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’
pan-Sikh memory was overwhelmingly anti-Muslim/anti-Pakistan in shape, it appears that,
even at this early stage, it also contained a slight anti-Hindu/anti-India nuance too.110
Contributing towards this nuance included memories proximate to; first, though right to
support the division of Punjab, the INC blundered by consenting to the partition of India;
and second, that the INC leadership were simply ‘not hard enough’ on the Muslims that
remained in India, and that these people ought to be expelled from the country or at least
‘should know their place’ from now on. With regards to this last view, such sentiment has
arguably survived well beyond the immediate aftermath, with Tarlochan Singh in mid-2010,
after being asked about his memory of Gandhiji’s assassination at the hands of Nathuram
Godse,111 remarking:
protection of Hindus and Sikhs in Pakistan’ (‘Interview with Sardar Mohinder Singh conducted
by Prof. Ian Talbot’. Amritsar, 14 November 2002. Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 166).
109
With a few exceptions, it is difficult to directly blame any other group than the
Muslims for the partition violence across West Pakistan.
110
Admittedly, this was less anti-Hindu than it was anti-Indian state.
111
Judging by Nathuram Godse’s (2003) final testimony, it appears that Gandhiji’s
‘blatantly pro-Muslim policies’, including the call for Muslims to remain in India after partition,
were one of the chief reasons for his assassination.
237
At the time, it was dangerous to have any sympathies towards Pakistan…when we
came [from West Pakistan] people were thinking that the Muslims should leave, they
should not be in India…Sikhs and Hindus did not receive any favours from the
Muslims in Pakistan, so why should they be here especially when they were the
ones who provided the bulwark of support for the Pakistan demand, without them
partition wouldn’t have occurred… and since it was thought Gandhi had
sympathies towards Pakistan and the Muslims, that’s why he was killed…I can’t say
too many people at the time were too sad about it [emphasis added].112
In terms of the potency of memory, suffice it to say the mere fact that the refugee
arrival, as was mentioned earlier, contributed towards the rise of anti-Muslim violence in
east Punjab during this period suggests it was highly potent in nature.
Contextual Conditions
Despite the fact that the Sikh refugees’ actual experience of exile undoubtedly had more of
a role to play in explaining the precise shape and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’
pan-Sikh memory at this stage, the prevalent contextual conditions were still of
considerable importance. These include the following;
First, as mentioned earlier (see RQ-2), in the milieu of forcible expulsions of
Muslims from east Punjab, it suited those Sikhs having designs upon Muslim property
and/or womenfolk to hold, and evoke, an anti-Muslim/anti-Pakistan shaped, highly
potent, memory that would justify such acts. Also as a consequence of the demographic
upheaval in Punjab, this emotive refugee memory was permitted more space to grow and
homogenise for there were evidently fewer Muslims, and hence fewer damaged Muslim
sentiments, to take into consideration (unlike in the rest of India, where the majority of
Muslims opted to stay put as opposed to migrate to Pakistan).
Second, the ‘state narrative’ of partition, though admittedly in a quite early phrase,
was far more reflective of Sikh refugee sentiment than at any subsequent time for it
identified Muslims as the main culprits of partition and its associated violence. Statements,
112
238
now quite infamous, made by senior INC leaders such as Maulana Azad (to a crowd of
Muslims at the Jama Masjid in Delhi on 23 October 1947)113 and Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel
(to the Constituent Assembly in mid-1949)114 support this interpretation. In addition, GOI
publications bore a large measure of resemblance with those circulated by ‘communal’
bodies such as the SGPC.
On the issue of which political parties, if any, sought to instigate communal violence for its
own ends (excerpt from SGPC publication, followed by GOI publication):
The Congress had never made communal warfare its political weapon. On the contrary the
Congress wanted passionately to keep a united and strongly-welded Indian nation
to receive power as an undivided and powerful free India from the British
Government. The League, on the contrary, wanted to achieve its separate state of Pakistan.
It must show the creation of such a state to be inevitable for a solution of the country’s
problem. For showing this it argued, it was not possible for Hindus and Muslims
even to live together, much less to fight for a common political objective [emphasis
added] (Talib [1950] 1991: 111).
The Muslim officials, on the other hand, knowing that Islam was their sheet-anchor and
that but for communal representation in the services they would not be occupying
the positions they did, sought their safety in the establishment of a separate Muslim
State in which they would not have to compete with the Hindus and Sikhs for
power and influence. It was natural for such officials to think in terms of wiping out the
minorities in the new State; and this also explains the open complicity of the Muslim
An incensed Azad told his audience: ‘You remember that I called you and you cut
off my tongue, that I took up my pen and you lopped off my hand, that I wanted to walk and
move, and you tripped my foot…My lapels cry because your impudent hands have torn
them…If you live with fear now, it is just retribution for your past deeds. I told you the two
nation theory was the death-knell of a life of faith and belief…Those on whom you relied for
support have forsaken you, left you helpless…Behold the minarets of this mosque bend down to
ask you where you have mislaid the pages of your history!’ [emphasis added] (quoted in
Malsiani 1976: 164-169).
114
In what appears to be an attempt to ‘call their bluff’, Vallabhbhai Patel said: ‘You
[the Muslims] must change your attitude, adapt yourself to the changed conditions…Don’t
pretend to say, “Oh, our affection is great for you”. We have seen your affection. Let us forget
the affection. Let us face the realities. Ask yourself whether you really want to stand here and
cooperate with us or you want to play disruptive tactics’ (quoted in Pandey 2001: 163).
113
239
army, police and civil officials with the marauders in carrying out the massacres in
West Punjab. Wielding administrative power and having at their command the
police and the military as engines of oppression, these officials committed the worst
savagery in human history [emphasis added] (After Partition 1948: 40).
On the issue of the killing of Muslims in east Punjab (excerpt from SGPC publication,
followed by GOI publication):
The Muslim League had been preparing the Muslims physically and militarily for
such a fight, which when it came, the Hindus and Sikhs were caught unawares, and
suffered heavily in the dead and in the injured, in women abducted and
dishonoured, in property looted and houses and religious and educational places
burnt. Such retaliation as came from the Hindus and Sikhs was only belated, and after the
Muslim onslaught was becoming continuous and a threat to their very existence [emphasis
added] (Talib [1950] 1991: 23).
The riots in West Punjab had their natural repercussions in East Punjab, of which
exaggerated reports were published in the Pakistan Press and broadcast by the
Pakistan radio. These reports were completely silent about the fact that the
happenings in East Punjab and Delhi were a direct reaction of the West Punjab
atrocities [emphasis added] (After Partition 1948: 41).
A third condition was the on-going diplomatic tensions with Pakistan. These
involved; 1) accusations that it was a ‘Sikh conspiracy’ which had been responsible for the
partition violence across Punjab (see RQ-1); 2) the unequal exchange of abducted women
between the two countries;115 and 3) the outbreak of the First Kashmir War.116 Though in
115
The total number of Muslim women recovered from India totalled 20,728 versus
only 9,032 non-Muslim women from Pakistan (Menon and Bhasin 1993: 7). Furthermore, it was
believed by many Indians, especially refugees, that the Pakistan government’s official figure for
the number of non-Muslim women abducted in its country, 12,500, was a gross underestimate.
This grievance arguably had strong basis with even Mridula Sarabhai, who played a prominent
in the recovery of abducted women across Punjab, believing the ‘true number’ of non-Muslims
abducted women in Pakistan to be ten times the officially proclaimed figure (Menon and Bhasin
1993: 4).
116
‘In the immediate aftermath of Partition, there was some degree of ill will towards
Pakistan, and Pakistan’s invasion of Kashmir in 1947 did not help things’ [emphasis added]
(Brigadier S.S. Chowdhary quoted in Bonney et al. 2011: 66).
240
truth, the last two points appear to have accounted for the rise of some anti-Hindu/antiIndia sentiment also: namely, that ‘Hindu weaknesses’ at the centre brought about these
failings.
The fourth contextual condition was that the socio-economic ‘step-down’ between
life in West Pakistan and life in India was at its most pronounced during this period; and
the bitterness in this regard was not helped by the fact that most Muslim refugees heading
in the opposite direction actually experienced a ‘step-up’ (Talbot and Tatla 2006: 15-16,
157). As such the intensity of this ‘victimhood-rich’ memory was at its height, spelling
repercussions for both the extremity of its shape and its level of potency.
Shape and Potency
During the period between 1950 and 1966, it seems that while the Sikh refugee/‘refugeetinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory of partition continued to remain largely antiMuslim/anti-Pakistan in shape for the most part, it actually became far less potent than it
had been previously. This was reflected by the marked reduction, if not near eradication, of
anti-Muslim violence across east Punjab and its adjoining areas.117 At the same time the
anti-Hindu/anti-India nuance to the memory steadily grew, perhaps owing to its larger
potential ‘usability’ in the political environment of post-partition Punjab/India.
Contextual Conditions
Once again, the contextual conditions during this period help to explain why the Sikh
refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory of partition took the form it did;
First, from 1950 onwards it appears that the INC-dominated centre sought to, for
reasons ostensibly pertaining to party-political and national interest, actively suppress and
117
Seemingly this hitherto virulently Muslim/anti-Pakistan shaped, highly potent,
memory had served its purposed, however the memory of partition more generally had not
faded from Sikh consciousness nor had it ceased to be usable in a material sense.
241
‘de-communalise’ memory of partition.118 State-textbooks in India, as with other nations
which use them as a tools of indoctrination (Lowenthal 1997: 37), not only tended to pay
comparatively scant attention to the partition of the country relative to the glories
associated with the ‘non-violent’ freedom struggle, but the Indian Muslims’ assumed
culpability in the division was virtually ignored altogether. Though arguably serving to
reduce the potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh partition memory overall, the
partition-afflicted Sikhs (with a few notable exceptions)119 not only failed to appropriate this
‘official narrative’ intact120 but would actually grow, in later years, to hold this as a
resentment vis-à-vis the Indian state:
15th of August, is a red letter day in the history of India no doubt but in two senses:
the day of victory for one section and the day of carnage for the other. The first
section won power, wealth and honour at the cost of life, property and honour of
the other. Not a word is ever uttered by the political leaders about these unfortunate victims
of this victory, when the Independence Day is celebrated every year. No monument has been
118
Evidence that such a policy was put into practice, can be seen if one examines the
official correspondence between senior officials of the state education system at the time. For
instance, Humayun Kabir, from the Ministry of Education, wrote in a letter, ‘I agree…that if
children are encouraged to develop a sense of toleration for different points of views and respect
for other religions, it will go a long way towards solving the problems of communal
misunderstanding…[and]… staff in educational institutions have a special responsibility in the
matter’ (‘Letter to Mr. Ray Chaudhari from Humayun Kabir, Ministry of Education, New
Delhi’. 28 February 1950—F No. 49-28/50-D3 (1950) [NA]: 3). Also, Prem Singh, Education
Officer for Bilaspur, wrote in a recommendation, that ‘while teaching History lessons the
communal aspect of past struggles should not be emphasized’ [emphasis added] (‘Memo’. 6
June 1950—F No. 49-28/50-D3 (1950) [NA]: 19).
119
Admittedly a few Sikh refugees, in particular those belonging to privileged
backgrounds that had managed to escape much of the associated violence, were more inclined to
sympathise with the state approach to de-communalising memory of partition. Indeed,
Khushwant Singh wrote that: ‘The government is rightly wary of exciting the people’s
sympathy by constantly harping on the maltreatment of non-Muslims in Pakistan’ (1965: 28).
Indeed, Khushwant Singh’s father, Sir Sobha Singh OBE, admitted in an interview that he did
not witness the partition riots and therefore, arguably due to that fact, held a memory of 15
August 1947 that was far more akin to that of a non-refugee Indian from a largely demographic
undisturbed part of the country than a Sikh refugee from West Pakistan: ‘I was in the Assembly
Chamber, now the Central Hall of Parliament House when Pt. Jawahar Lal Nehru made his
famous “Tryst with Destiny” speech on the…midnight of 14-15 August. That was a scene to
remember. Those who have seen that, they can never forget it. He was at his best…His speech
was so inspiring with its learned quotations from the [Bhagvad] Gita and his voice so rich and
dignified. Everybody was overjoyed’ [emphasis added] (‘Interview with Sir Sobha Singh
conducted by unknown’. New Delhi, 25 November 1966. Acc No.6 [OHC]: 9).
120
‘The state…is not hegemonic and thus cannot assure that alternative memories or
narratives are totally suppressed’ (Roberts 2000: 521).
242
raised in their memory. Let these leaders forget them but the history cannot. The departed
souls sitting in heaven are waiting for some honest and sympathetic scholar
(outside the class of politicians) to write history of the period of transfer of power,
but at present the victors are intoxicated with power; they have forgotten the sacrifices
of those innocent people on whose graves they are making merry with the help of new
wealth and new power [emphasis added] (Gill 1975: 65).
From my time in schooling I can’t say that there was ever more than a paragraph
devoted to partition of the country…everything I knew about [partition] came from
my parents and my elder relatives….but for that [state suppression of partition
memory], the reason is obvious to me…the dominant establishment in this country,
they know…they know that they are the ones who are responsible for this
disaster…You can blame Jinnah sure, but why did Nehru not allow him to become
Prime Minister so as to keep the country united?…So you see in this way it makes
sense for Indian history to remain silent about partition.121
Such grievances over the state’s depiction of contemporary history are in striking parallel
with those felt by the Serb population of Yugoslavia prior to the country’s protracted
breakup from 1991 onwards. In that case, it was alleged that official state-textbooks and
Yugoslav media outlets had artificially ‘balanced’ the culpability of past wrongdoings, by
downplaying ‘Ustaše crimes [committed by Croats against Serbs] during World War II’
while exaggeration ‘[Serb] Mihailović collaboration with the [Nazi] Germans’ (Cox 2002:
137). This resonates Nora’s view that ‘history’s goal and ambition is not to exalt but to
annihilate what has in reality taken place’ (Nora 1989: 9).
A second contextual condition involves the demand by the SAD for the creation of
a Punjabi suba,122 which enjoyed varying levels of support and attention from 1947
onwards, and its continual rebuttal by New Delhi.123 Since its denial was perceived as
121
The exact territorial mass demanded by the SAD underwent some revisions between
1947 and 1966. However the proximate area included those districts in which, following the
demographic upheaval of partition, the bulk of the Sikh population was concentrated.
123
Numerous reasons, officially and unofficially, were thought to be behind the denial
of the suba; first, the underlying basis of the demand was communal; second, it lacked the
support of the majority within Punjab (i.e. at that time, from the far more numerous Hindus);
third, the creation of a small border state would be detrimental towards India’s security
122
243
religious discrimination by many Sikhs,124 it contributed (wittingly or unwittingly) towards
a further revision in the shape of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory
of partition whereby it became increasingly more anti-Hindu/anti-India in composition.
Yet at the same time, the fact that the Sikh’s needed the cooperation of New Delhi to
acquiesce to their demand meant that they could not overdo, at least publically, the
extremity of this anti-Hindu/anti-India nuance, as it would inevitably prove counterproductive. Thus, Sikh elites tended to espouse their partition/independence-related
grievances through a choice of words resembling ‘emotional blackmail’ rather than an
abject offence to the majority Hindus or the Indian state. For instance, Master Tara Singh,
in the SAD’s 1952 election manifesto, writes the following:
We fought shoulder to shoulder with others to turn out the Englishman in the hope
that his departure will usher in an era of liberty which will be the source of
pleasure. But I must admit that we miscalculated; Englishman has gone, but liberty
had not come. The formation of a Punjabi suba on the basis of pure Punjabi
speaking areas will be the only solution for preservation of Punjabi culture and
language (quoted in Sharma 1992: 76-77).
A third contextual condition involved the national wars with China and Pakistan,
in 1962 and 1965 respectively. Despite the fact that these served to heighten patriotic
sentiment during the actual conflicts, and in the case of the latter reinforce the antiMuslim/anti-Pakistan shape to the partition memory, following their end, Sikhs were once
again left disgruntled by what they perceived as ‘Hindu weakness’ in diplomacy.
The fourth was the growing Sikh, in particular refugee, prosperity in India, whether
in commercial pursuits or agriculture as a result of the ‘Green Revolution’. This markedly
reduced (if not completely eradicated) the socio-economic step-down between pre-exilic
and post-exilic life. The growing economic prosperity inevitably had a taming effect on the
interests; fourth, that Punjabi was more of a dialect than a separate language warranting its own
state; and fifth, fears that the creation of a Sikh majority state would eventually attempt to
secede from India.
124
Hukum Singh 1985: 108, Sant Fateh Singh quoted in Brass 1974: 325-326.
244
intensity of partition-related grievances. In concurrence with this, Tarlochan Singh states
that ‘people have now forgotten partition…especially since the 1960s the Sikhs started to
do well economically and so they have forgotten.125 In spite of this, the influence it had
upon taming the anti-Hindu/anti-India sentiment should not exaggerated, for most Sikhs
viewed their collective’s economic successes in post-partition India as a consequence of
their own efforts rather than as a reflection of good governance from New Delhi.
Shape and Potency
Since the post-Punjabi suba contextual conditions have already been considered in detail
(see Chapter 2), the remaining part of this section will focus on the fluctuations within Sikh
refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh memory.
It appears that after 1966, the anti-Hindu/anti-India degree to the memory, which,
until then, had been a minor nuance, became increasingly pronounced. Indeed, it could be
argued that it became more anti-Hindu/anti-India in shape than anti-Muslim/antiPakistan! Of course, owing to certain restrictions impinging upon its malleability (referred
to previously), this post-1966 articulated partition memory failed to supplant Hindus in
place of the Muslims as the direct culprits of the partition violence that the Sikh refugees
endured. Rather, there has been a tendency to focus more on the high-politics of that
period, since it has been far easier to blame the Hindus and the INC in this respect. As
such, this revised narrative has effectively served to; 1) indirectly deflect the blame away
from the Muslim mobs and relegate them to mere pawns in a greater Machiavellian game
taking place above; and 2) place the chief responsibility for the ‘material consequences’ that
the Sikhs suffered as a result of partition almost solely upon the Hindus and ‘their’ leaders.
The main aspects of this increasingly anti-Hindu/anti-India shaped memory are as
discussed below.
125
245
First, are the ‘promises’ that senior Congress leaders were purported to have made
to the Sikhs during the partition deliberations—in particular the statement made by Nehru
in July 1946 that, ‘the brave Sikhs of Punjab are entitled to special consideration. I see
nothing wrong in an area and a set up in the North, wherein the Sikhs can also experience
the glow of freedom’ (The Statesman 1946). This statement was increasingly126 referred to
and/or paraphrased, with varying degrees of accuracy, by members of the Sikh collective
(particularly those with either a SAD or Khalistani political leaning) to demonstrate their
‘betrayal’ at the hands of the Hindu elite.
Statements made by senior Akalis:
I, will, for want of time, skip over the story of the Sikhs’ suffering during the last 18
years in an Independent India under the political control of political and anglicised
Hindus, and will merely refer to the reply which Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru gave to
Master Tara Singh in 1954, when the latter reminded him of the solemn
undertaking previously given to the Sikhs on behalf of the majority community.
Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru coolly replied, ‘The circumstances have now changed’
(Kapur Singh quoted in Mann 1969: 32).
In 1946, Nehru promised that if the Sikhs wanted a sub-autonomous unit where
they could feel the glow of freedom, he was prepared to give it. Again in 1947 when
the Sikhs had boycotted the Constituent Assembly, the Congress appealed to them
and promised that their interests would be safeguarded. That was what they
wanted. But when partition took place, then everybody told us that things had
changed. Now the things changed for the Hindu community, that they became
[the] majority from one of the minorities in the Punjab. But the Sikhs were a
minority even before partition and remained a minority even after partition.127
Statements made by Sikh secessionists/Khalistanis:
126
While such sentiment had existed prior to 1966, it had not been as prevalent.
1976. Acc No.344 [OHC]: 71).
127
246
At the time of independence of India Mahatma Gandhi gave the statement. Have
they stood by their statements and promises? In this part of Punjab, he said that this
would be such a zone in which the Sikhs would enjoy freedom. We are enjoying
the freedom in Punjab! How they have degraded the Sikhs. How they have insulted
the Sikhs. How many religious places of the Sikhs have been violated? Is it enjoying
freedom [emphasis added]? (Sant Bhindranwale quoted in Judge 2005: 122).
When the British left India in 1947, the leaders of the Hindus made certain
promises to the Sikhs: that the Sikhs will be given an area where they will
experience the warmth of freedom…For these reasons the Sikh people decided to
enter the federal structure of India. After independence, instead of giving the Sikh
people the freedom they had promised, they started discriminating against
[them]…in their struggle for a Punjabi-speaking state. When all of the states were
reorganised on a basis of language, only Punjabi-speakers were denied that right
(Wassan Singh Zaffarwal quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 156).
We remind people of all the promises made to the Sikhs by the government. Ours is
a history of betrayal (Jarnail Singh Hoshiarpur quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 184).
When [Master Tara Singh] spoke to Nehru and asked him why you don’t give us
[Sikhs] a Punjabi language suba…Nehru said ‘Oh Masterji, that time is gone!’…this
is the history [of betrayal].128
Why references to Nehru’s ‘broken promise’ actually increased within the Sikh
refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh memory in spite of the Punjabi suba being conceded by
the centre can be attributed to a few principle reasons; 1) that ‘no other state had to
struggle, or spill even one drop of blood for a linguistic state, no other state had to agitate
for so long, so why did the Sikhs have to…when these demands were given to others so
easily?’;129 2) ‘the fact that every state was granted its own linguistic status but for the
Punjab was a major cause of resentment from the Sikhs point of view’;130 and 3) that the
128
130
129
247
suba did not actually amount to a ‘glow of freedom’ within India as promised by Nehru;131
and 4) that since the Sikhs were now a majority in their own sub-zone, many previously
repressed grievances, were permitted space to be heard.
A second aspect of the increasingly anti-Hindu/anti-India shaped memory was the
growth of views implying that ‘Hindu weaknesses’ at the centre were responsible for the
partition of India. Criticisms in this regard include; 1) that INC leaders were appeasing and
feeble in their approach to the Muslim League and its Pakistan demand;132 and 2) that the
INCs decision to consent to the partition of India was effectively an act of submission.133
Such criticisms were by no means without foundation. Rhetoric used by arguably
two of the most senior leaders associated (officially or unofficially) with the INC, as quoted
below, hardly seemed conducive towards keeping India united:
As a man of non-violence, I cannot forcibly resist the proposed partition if the
Muslims of India really insist upon it. But I can never be a willing party to the
vivisection (Mohandas Gandhi quoted in The Harijan 1940: 92).
If the eight crores of Muslims desire it [Pakistan], no power on earth can prevent it
(Mohandas Gandhi quoted in The Harijan 1940a: 117).
I do not even today know what is meant by Pakistan. I wish to tell all Muslims of
India that by threat or force Pakistan can never be taken. But by agreement and
common consent even the whole of India can be given to them [emphasis added]
(Mohandas Gandhi quoted in The Tribune 1947i).
We do not want to compel any province or portion of the country to join Pakistan
or Hindustan (Jawaharlal Nehru quoted in The Tribune 1947j).
It is anybody’s guess as to what Nehru precisely envisioned by this.
Though this view was subscribed to by a few Sikhs (including to-be refugees) prior
to partition (Gurbachan Singh and Gyani 1946: 9), it grew in popularity after 1966 (‘Interview
with Baba Pyare Lal Bedi conducted by Dr Hari Dev Sharma’. New Delhi, 5 September 1969.
Acc No.270 [OHC]: 126).
133
Gurbir Singh suggests that the INC should have been willing to face civil war as
Abraham Lincoln did in the USA in order to keep the country together (1994: 174).
131
132
248
Yet at the same time, owing to being divorced from the contextual conditions
prevailing during the partition period, it was easier for those subscribing to the Sikh
refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh memory to condemn the INC’s decision to agree to the
country’s partition as an ‘act of weakness’ rather than view it as an act of compassion for
the provincial minorities (particularly its mainly non-Muslim constituents) who were being
slaughtered mercilessly or attribute it to the fact that the INC leaders were by no means the
only stakeholders during this period.
A third aspect, rather than weaknesses as such, was the view that a collection of
Hindu blunders were responsible for the partition of India and its accompanied bloodshed.
Opinions commonly espoused by Sikh refugees and those co-religionists who had
appropriated aspects of their memory, include; 1) ‘that the CR Formula gave the Pakistan
idea more credibility among the Muslim masses than it had warranted’;134 2) that the Hindu
press were inadvertently responsible for building up, through their sensationalising, the
popularity of Jinnah and the Pakistan demand;135 and 3) that ‘violence in Punjab could
have been avoided, or at least substantially reduced, had the Hindu leadership of the INC
consented to the transfer of population’.136
While it can be argued that blunders by the Hindu dominated INC leadership did
indeed contribute to partition and the associated violence, such views as described above
must be given closer scrutiny. For instance, the CR formula was essentially in keeping with
the framework that Cripps Mission had laid out and, perhaps, had no senior Congressman
sought to meet the Muslim League halfway in terms of the latter’s own ‘extreme’ Pakistan
demand, they could well have been accused of being uncompromising or dictatorial. Also,
though sections of the Hindu-owned print press undoubtedly helped build-up Jinnah’s
aura, it was also the same vehicle that helped build-up the popularity of the likes of
Gandhiji and Nehru. It would clearly be unwise, therefore, to perceive the media’s impact
134
Interview with Gurbaksh Singh. Ludhiana, 4 September 2010.
‘Interview with Baba Pyare Lal Bedi conducted by Dr Hari Dev Sharma’. New
Delhi, 5 September 1969. Acc No.270 [OHC]: 118.
136
1976. Acc No.344 [OHC]: 70, 75; Gill 1975: 64; Interview with Paramjit Singh Sarna. Delhi, 21
August 2010.
135
249
upon India’s pre-partition politics as one-directional. On the issue of standing against the
transfer of population, it must be noted that, besides the fact that they were not alone in this
view,137 the INC held sensible (though not necessarily correct) grounds to do so. Though it
is undeniable that many Sikhs across West Pakistan, by taking the advice of certain INC
leaders such as Gandhiji,138 ultimately suffered by not migrating earlier and so in an
organised fashion, it is nevertheless wrong to blame the INC, even indirectly, for
contributing towards the violence while ignoring or downplaying the role played by the
leadership and affiliates of the Muslim League and SAD.
A fourth aspect of this anti-Hindu/anti-India shaped memory, in contrast to the
previous two points, consists of the view that the Hindu leadership were power hungry and
were willing to sacrifice partial loss of the motherland to attain their ministerial posts in an
independent India.139 According to Sardar Mohinder Singh, a gentleman who had worked
in Lahore at the time of partition,
if Nehru, Patel, the Congress, and others had not shown such haste, and if they had
deferred matters another twelve to eighteen months, then Pakistan could not have
become a reality…These leaders hastened the process as they were really after power at any
cost. That led to Partition [emphasis added].140
137
Most notably the British, with Lieutenant-General Frank Messervy suggesting an
exchange of population across Punjab ‘would not only be administratively almost impossible to
implement fairly, but would be inclined to accentuate and perpetuate the communal antagonism
which must surely be assuaged if India is to avoid civil war and chaos’ (quoted in Jeffrey 1974:
495). Even a few Sikh leaders, and not just those that had been against the partition of Punjab,
were against population exchange by calling on the non-Muslims of west Punjab to be ‘fearless
and bravely stick to their posts and carry out their daily normal activities’ (The Tribune 1947g).
138
Clearly many Sikhs, and not just Hindus, across West Pakistan were mesmerised by
Gandhiji and held a near blind faith in him and his advice not to migrate (Sikh refugee #35
quoted in Keller 1975: 45; ‘Interview with Niranjan Singh conducted by Dr Hari Dev Sharma’.
New Delhi, 10 January 1977. Acc No.460 [OHC]: 16, 34-35).
139
1976. Acc No.344 [OHC]: 70, ‘Interview with Gurcharan Singh Bhatia conducted by Prof. Ian
Talbot’. Amritsar, 13 November 2002. Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 85.
140
‘Interview with Sardar Mohinder Singh conducted by Prof. Ian Talbot’. Amritsar, 14
November 2002. Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 170.
250
Adding further credibility to such this above view was that even Nehru himself admitted,
during an interview with Leonard Mosley, that reasons other than national interest were
behind the INCs decision to consent to partition:
We were tired men…and we were getting on in years too. Few of us could stand
the prospect of going to prison again—and if we had stood out for a united India as
we wished it, prison obviously awaited us. We saw the fires burning in the Punjab
and heard of the killings. The plan of partition offered a way out and we took
it....We expected that partition would be temporary, that Pakistan was bound to
come back to us (quoted in Mosley 1961: 77).
However, it must be said that though the INC leadership’s power hungry nature
contributed to the decision to accept partition, it cannot be assumed that this was the sole
reason for it.
As far as the potency of this increasingly anti-Hindu/anti-India memory is
concerned, it remained quite low in general. However, it would gradually increase with the
approach to the peak (1990/1991) of the Khalistan movement.
Shape and Potency
Although the anti-Hindu/anti-India shaped aspects of the Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’
pan-Sikh memory described above persisted beyond 1981, what were considered to be
‘communal views’ prior to the rise of the Khalistan movement now increasingly became
regarded as ‘moderate’. At the same time, and added to these now ‘moderate’ aspects,
more ‘extreme’ anti-Hindu/anti India ones emerged. Despite the fact that such ‘extreme’
aspects were only confined to a small minority of Sikhs,141 it is clear that they were
prevalent enough to be consigned a position within the Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ panSikh collective memory of partition.
Even in such cases, owing to the somewhat contradictory nature of these ‘extreme’
aspects, it is rare that any one person would subscribe to all of them.
141
251
The first of these more ‘extreme’ anti-Hindu/anti-India aspects (though perhaps the
least extreme of the aspects in this following sub-section) are those ‘memories’ sitting in
consonance with the below quotes:
At no stage during the struggle for independence did Sikhs seek a separate national identity
for themselves. In fact, the British and the Muslim League leaders were keen on
creating a separate Sikh state but this offer was spurned by the contemporary Sikh
leaders of indisputable status like Master Tara Singh who headed the Akali party at
the time of Independence. The voice of Master Tara Singh, at that time, was the voice of
the whole community. It was considered [a] unanimous decision of all shades and affiliations
[emphasis added] (Harbans Singh quoted in Satinder Singh 1982: 162-163).
There have never been any doubts about the nationalist credentials of the Sikhs. Not only
did they participate in the nationalist freedom movement with much enthusiasm,
the people of Punjab, along with those of Bengal, were also the ones who suffered
the most during partition at the time of independence in 1947 [emphasis added]
(Jodhka 2001: 1311).
Granting that the Sikhs, in general, played the largest proportional contribution towards
the freedom movement of any community in India, what gives such memories expressed
above their ‘extreme’ edge is that they have attempted to eliminate any trace of ambiguity
from the Sikhs’ political conduct during the partition/independence period. The effect of
this has been to produce a highly ‘usable’ output which has served expedient for both proIndian Sikhs and specific Khalistanis. The former deploying this ‘extreme’ memory as
‘proof’ that the Hindu majority of India ought to be less suspicious of Sikh political
demands; whereas for the latter it proves that their community can never be treated on par
with the majority despite their noblest attempts to behave as model citizens. In order to
achieve this usable output, subscribers to this ‘extreme’ aspect of Sikh refugee/‘refugeetinged’ pan-Sikh memory of partition have resorted to a large degree of selective amnesia.
For instance; 1) the fact that the Sikh leadership might arguably be seen as having defied
252
the nationalist struggle, by not participating in the Quit India movement, was ignored;142
and 2) that senior Sikh leaders, including Master Tara Singh, flirted with and/or actively
sought the creation of a Sikhistan/Khalistan, as well negotiated with Jinnah on the
possibility of union with Pakistan.143
The second ‘extreme’ anti-Hindu/anti-India aspect of the Sikh refugee/‘refugeetinged’ pan-Sikh memory is that the partition of the Punjab was a mistake. Supporting this
view, when asked whether Master Tara Singh was correct to support the division of
Punjab, Nayar responded that, ‘he was not right to do so...but you cannot make him on his
own responsible’.144 Others have gone so far as to suggest that it went against the true
wishes of the Sikhs,145 thus implying that; 1) the partition violence and material
142
There are adequate grounds to claim that non-participation in Quit India movement
was consistent with the nationalist cause on the basis that, had the Sikhs participated, the Indian
Army would have been almost completely Muslim in composition—and hence would have
served to work against India during the partition riots and First Kashmir War (‘Interview with
Ajit Singh Sarhadi conducted by Dr Hari Dev Sharma’. Delhi, 22 June 1973. Acc No.653
[OHC]: 43-44).
143
Prior to 1981 when the prospect of Punjab seceding from India was thought to be
virtually impossible, it appears that many non-Khalistani Sikh elites (naturally conscious of
their respected status in India) were more willing to admit that their community were tempted
by the prospect of their own state or union with Pakistan during the partition deliberations. This
is because such utterances were not met with Hindu paranoia or press hysteria as was the case in
later years (‘Interview with Ujjal Singh conducted by Dr Hari Dev Sharma’. Delhi, 13 January
1977. Acc No.428 [OHC]: 16-17; ‘Interview with Naranjan Singh Gill conducted by S. L.
Manchanda’. Delhi, 11 April 1972. Acc No.168 [OHC]: 110).
144
145
It seems that many Khalistanis have attempted to inject degree of Hindu culpability
into the Sikh leadership’s decision, with the then Secretary General of the National Council of
Khalistan telling an interviewer in mid-1981, ‘we want good relations with Pakistan. The
partition was not in our hearts. The Hindus instigated us’ [emphasis added] (Balbir Singh
Sandhu quoted in Sahota and Sahota 1993: 124); and the founder of the National Council of
Khalistan saying, ‘we were offered a Sikh homeland by Jinnah—from the Chenab to Narela: we
didn’t get time to decide on this because Nehru was in such a hurry over partition [of India]’
(Jagjit Singh Chauhan quoted in Satinder Singh 1982: 118-119). Although there were some
notable Sikh leaders such as Babu Kharak Singh and Sardul Singh Caveeshar who were firmly
against the idea of dividing Punjab, the vast majority were in favour and indeed the Sikh
members of the PLA voted overwhelmingly for it (The Tribune 1947e, The Sunday Tribune
1947a). In fact, far from being ‘instigated by the Hindus’, Lord Mountbatten actually said that,
‘it was mainly at the request of the Sikh community that Congress had put forward the
Resolution as the partition of the Punjab’ [emphasis added] (quoted in ‘Statement of Mehr
Chand Mahajan’. Boundary Commission: Partition Proceedings [1947] Vol.2—Acc No.1634
[PKSMC]: 8). Arguably the only conceivable grounds for suggesting it was against the ‘true
wishes’ of the Sikhs, would be to say that had they known for sure where Radcliffe Line would
be drawn, and what their subsequent position in India would be, they may have proceeded
differently.
253
consequences stemming from the transfer of population across Punjab could have been
markedly reduced if not avoided altogether:
Jinnah was begging us…begging the Sikhs, Giani Kartar Singh and Master Tara
Singh, come with us…join us…then…we will not have to migrate and become
refugees…and we suffered a lot [by not doing so].146
With his eyes set on the realities of the situation and conscious of the disadvantages
of a truncated Pakistan, Jinnah had very sound reasons to make this offer because,
as he observed, the Muslim-Sikh accord could avert the partition of the Punjab and
keep it intact. He could foresee that the partition of Punjab would not only cause
incalculable misery, ruin and suffering to the Sikhs but would also render a grievous
blow to Pakistan as well [emphasis added] (Dhillon 1996: 33).
2) Sikhs would have been better off living in Pakistan as opposed to India:
The English left the country divided. But we have a complaint about our
leadership, especially about Master Tara Singh and Baldev Singh. The fact is that
Master Tara Singh could not put behind his family background. If he had talked
with the English straight, we could have joined Pakistan then…Jinnah offered
[something] in talks with Hardit Singh and Maharajah of Patiala, it was not a written
agreement, it was all verbal assurances. But these leaders proved to be fools [emphasis
added].147
There are not too many Sikhs living in Pakistan, but those who do are very well
respected and have full freedom of religion. The Pakistani government,
demonstrating a true democratic ethos, recently passed a law that recognizes Sikh
marriages under the Anand Marriage Act [in 2007]. Now a Sikh can marry another
Sikh or other in Pakistan and get registered under Sikh law. In contrast, the Hindus
have not only denied that recognition, but have done everything they can, overtly
or covertly, to destroy the Sikh identity and religion.148
146
‘Interview with Gurdeep Singh Bhatia conducted by Prof. Ian Talbot’. Amritsar, 23
January 2003. Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 92.
148
147
254
The view that partition violence and the material consequences stemming from the
transfer of population across Punjab could have been markedly reduced or eliminated
altogether has some basis. However there are sufficient grounds for suggesting that a united
Punjab within Pakistan could actually have been far worse for the Sikhs. For instance; 1)
many provinces across the subcontinent which escaped being partitioned along communal
lines still had virtually their entire minority populations wiped out; 2) refugee movements,
as mentioned previously, across the Punjab actually started prior to June 1947 when the
formal decision to partition Punjab and India was reached, and the victims at this stage
being almost exclusively non-Muslim; 3) the partition of Punjab, though dividing the Sikh
population in two, actually reduced the distance that refugees needed to traverse in order to
reach ‘safe’ territory; and 4) the partition of the province ensured that more than half of the
Sikhs would not become refugees and that, with the Muslim departure from east Punjab,
evacuee property existed within a culturally similar area for refugees to be rehabilitated
into.
With regards to the question of whether Sikhs would have been better off in
Pakistan as compared to India, even those Sikhs who were (and remain) bitter towards the
Hindu majority and/or Indian state after the events of 1984 acknowledge that the
minorities in Pakistan have nowhere near the level of religious freedom that those in India
enjoy. As for the ‘Sikh-friendly’ legislative measures which Ajrawat alluded to, while
undoubtedly being welcomed by most Sikhs, there is an appreciation among those not
subscribing to this particular ‘extreme’ aspect of the post-1981 Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’
pan-Sikh memory of partition that such measures are merely ‘window dressing’ for a
country in which much of its miniscule Hindu and Sikh population ‘are living in a constant
state of fear’.149
The third ‘extreme’ anti-Hindu/anti-India aspect, one endorsed almost exclusively
by Khalistani Sikhs, was that their leadership150 blundered by not taking
149
The Sikh leadership that the British engaged with on this issue were Master Tara
Singh and Baldev Singh.
150
255
Sikhistan/Khalistan when it was offered to them and, to varying degrees of extremity,
usually refer to Hindu culpability in the making of this regretful decision. Consider the
statements below:
If they give us Khalistan, we will take it. We won’t make the mistake of 1947 [emphasis
added] (Sant Bhindranwale quoted in Sunday 1983: 28).
Every year, near our village, on the birthday of Guru Gobind Singh there was a
festival where we used to go to listen to the ballads of the dhadhis. From there we
learned about the misls, the division of the sub-continent, the period after partition,
of Master Tara Singh and Sant Fateh Singh. We learned that the British had offered our
leaders our own country because we had a state during Maharajah Ranjit Singh’s time…At
partition, we Sikhs could not match the cunning of Nehru and Gandhi. All of Nehru’s
family were cunning. This was discussed a lot at home and certainly it made an
impact on us. Our leaders had blundered at the time of the division of the country and all of
these sacrifices that are occurring now are due to their blunders. Young people are getting
killed and suffering fake encounters from the police because of the mistakes of a few
leaders. We listened to all of this and at the time didn’t react much [emphasis
added] (Jasvinder Singh quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 167).
There was a resolution passed for a Khalistan, or Sikhistan, by the Akalis at this
time who advocated the three-nation theory…but for some reason or another they
decided to throw their lot in with Hindustan, as they promised us a ‘glow of freedom’
and we have suffered since...that was the perfect opportunity for Khalistan...but we
missed the boat...that window has now passed.151
The betrayal of the Sikhs by the Hindu leadership, including Gandhi, Nehru, Patel,
and Master Tara Singh, alias Nanak Chand Malhotra (a radical Hindu and
follower of Golwalkar, disguised as a Sikh, but in reality a deep undercover agent
for the trio and the RSS)…When the Sikh leadership was offered its own separate
country, he cast the lot of the Sikh nation with India, a big surprise at one time but
not anymore. Anyone who is an intelligence agent for one group will be very adept
in undermining and damaging rival groups and enemies.152
151
152
256
We made a big mistake, we should have taken Khalistan right there and then when
there was time…and [the] British wanted us to have it…but our leadership, Master
Tara Singh and Baldev Singh, they were completely in the pocket of Nehru and Gandhi
they didn’t establish their own identity…and that’s why they are suffering since then
[emphasis added].153
While it is a matter of opinion as to whether Sikhs would have been better off
taking Khalistan when it was offered or perhaps union with Pakistan, it does appear that
many of those subscribing to this specific extreme aspect tend to hold ‘memories’ that are
not entirely reflective of the ground realities at the time. For instance; 1) often downplayed
is the fact that the attainment of a political state was never the Sikhs’ first preference.
Rather, almost to a man, the Sikhs were staunchly against the two-nation theory. The
published material (with the obvious exception of those made by the Communist Party)
and resolutions passed in favour of a Sikhistan/Khalistan, show that the Sikh leadership
attached, implicitly or explicitly, a conditionality to their demand: namely that they would
only opt for their own state in the event the British, and other notable stakeholders,
acquiesced to the creation of Pakistan; and 2) moreover, many Khalistanis appear to have
overestimated the strength of the Sikh population at the time154 and, by consequence, the
size of the prospective territory available for Khalistan. This is shown by a statement made
Sarna, a non-Khalistani Sikh, during an interview with this author:
I talked to Master Tara Singh personally on this very issue when I was younger, he
told me that the Britishers had an agreement with the various religions…which was
that they were going to leave India partitioned in accordance to any of the religious
communities that wished to take up this opportunity…The problem was the
religious group had to form a majority in the area they wanted, and because the
Sikhs were a minority in all the districts, only in one tehsil, Taran Taran now in
Amritsar district [and Moga tehsil in Ferozepure district], we formed a
153
Interview with Dr Gurmit Singh Aulakh. [Phone Interview], 21 February 2011;
154
257
majority….So for the sake of this small area, we would have lost even our sites in
Amritsar and Jalandhar and other places that had a Muslim majority…[so Master
Tara Singh’s decision] was the right job.155
Furthermore, with a transfer of population being ‘officially’ out of the question, it is plain
to see how the Sikh leadership’s decision to turn down the opportunity of attaining their
nation-state was not as ill-conceived as certain ‘regretful’ Khalistanis have attempted to
make out.
The fourth extreme aspect, in consonance with the idea that the Hindus were ‘out
to finish the Sikhs’ during the Guru and colonial periods (see Chapter 3: 156-165), was that
the partition of India was actually a grand Hindu conspiracy. The logic here is that the
Hindu leadership wanted to attain power without (or with drastically less) Muslim
interference, and in the process secure the most industrially advanced parts of the country
for themselves. This view has been restricted almost exclusively to Khalistani elements,
such as Kanwarpal Singh, who told this author in response to a question about partition,
I’m not too sure about it [aware condemning it would’ve undermined his partyline]...although maybe if there hadn’t been the partition the Muslim population in India
would have been huge, if you take Pakistan, Hindustan and Bangladesh it would have
been huge, and combined that with the Sikh population, the Hindu majority would
have been less maybe that’s why it happened [emphasis added].156
In fact some have displayed a degree of sympathy for the Muslims (though falling short of
endorsing partition itself). With a few going as far as to suggest that the Muslims did not
want the partition of the country but were driven to it by the Hindus:
Neither the Muslims, nor the British nor the Sikhs, nor the ‘khud-i-khidmatgars’ were
for the partition of the country. As it is the last two bodies were the greatest
opponents of the partition of the country. Ultimately, the Congress succeeded in its
goal (Dhillon 1994: 247).
155
156
258
The Muslims smelt a rat and resolved to carve their own land out of the Indian subcontinent (Sekhon and Dilgeer 1999: 1).
[Replying to a question posed by this author as to why he had previously been
quoted as saying, to some journalists in Pakistan, that the partition of India was
‘unholy’] Unholy because…if they the Brahmins did not take this line there is no
way it would have been divided…because Jinnah never wanted it, Iqbal never
wanted it, even the Muslim League was anti-Pakistan, they [wanted to see us] live
together.157
Clearly such views seems outlandish to say the least, as India, even after 1947,
committed itself to a secular ethos, preserved Muslim autonomous rights and institutions,
and has had a number of Muslim Presidents, and fought four wars with Pakistan to hold on
to its potion of Muslim majority Kashmir (hardly the kind of policies which would serve to
support their ‘hidden agenda’ to secure Hindu dominance over India).
In terms of the potency of the post-1981 ‘extreme’ memory, it is clear that it was
high (though nowhere near the same level as it had been during the immediate aftermath of
partition). Its elevated level is evidenced by key figures of the Sikh secessionist struggle,
whose speeches and statements attracted widespread (or at least pan-Sikh) attention
contained evidence of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh partition-related grievances.
However it appears that the potency was particularly pronounced during the period
corresponding with the Khalistan movement (1981-1993). This is because the militants on
the ground, who typically served as the Khalistani/Akali leaders’ audience, not only
appropriated such grievances but also translated them into motives/justifications for antiHindu/anti-India violence across Punjab state.
157
259
Summary
It is clear that Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory of partition has
undergone considerable modification in both its shape and potency since 1947. Whereas its
shape grew consistently more anti-Hindu/anti-Indian across the four epochs discussed 158
(particularly after 1981 when more ‘extreme’ aspects were incorporated into the narrative),
its potency reached its zenith in the immediate aftermath of partition, before falling
drastically from 1950 onwards, only to re-emerge with some degree of vigour after 1981.
Moreover, it is evident that the overwhelmingly anti-Hindu/anti-India shaped and
highly potent Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory of partition
coincided with the period of, and following, the Khalistan movement. Admittedly, that is
not the same as suggesting that memory contributed towards its rise. In fact it could be
argued that the post-1981 shape and potency of this partition memory reflected nothing
more than the contextual conditions at the time (of which the Khalistan movement was a
main component) and, therefore, played no role in the rise, or trajectory, of the movement.
However, while the contextual conditions and unfolding Khalistan movement undoubtedly
influenced the shape and potency of the memory it is also true that this memory influenced
the surrounding context and, consequently, the rise of the Khalistan movement.
Determining whether this memory had a stronger impact upon the rise of the Khalistan
movement, rather than the other way around; and therefore whether the memory can be
understood to have served a net contributing role to this case of ethno-national conflict,
remains to be proven. For this, the answers to the following two research questions should
provide further intelligibility in that direction.
The following view expressed by KPS Gill, to some degree, affirms this: ‘I
personally witnessed the changing rhetoric of the Gurdwaras, as the nation attained
Independence…The Gurdwara rhetoric, which had been consistently anti-Muslim before
Partition, took an unconcealed anti-Hindu tone almost immediately after, targeting Nehru and
“Brahmin India” as a regular feature’ [emphasis added] (1997: 35).
158
260
IV. Is there evidence to suggest that this sub-group has re-territorialized
its persecuted identity, and, if so, have the forms of expression deployed
changed with context?
Following their arrival from West Pakistan into truncated Punjab/India, did the Sikh
refugees and their post-event offspring159 display a persecuted identity consciousness160 and
seek to re-territorialize it accordingly? To determine this, we can consider the two
conceivable forms through which re-territorialization could occur and the particular outlets
available within each.
Lower-Level Re-Territorialization
From what can be discerned, there were three main lower-level outlets through which the
Sikh refugees, and to a lesser degree their post-event offspring, sought re-territorialize their
persecuted identity.
The first outlet was to resort to, or aid in, outright communal violence against nonSikhs. As mentioned earlier (see RQ-2), there are strong grounds to suggest that the arrival
of Sikh refugees, through a combination of their own ‘victimhood-rich’ memories and the
diffusion process that took place into non-refugee ethnic kin (serving as the life-blood for the
‘usability’ of the latter’s own partition memory), triggered much of the violence against
Muslims across east Punjab in the months following the partition of Punjab/India. While
this particular lower-level outlet was often deployed in order to satisfy an associated widerlevel goal (i.e. WL-4/WL-5), it is clear that for many refugees the ‘reprisal’ killings were an
end in itself—akin to what Coser (1956: 49) terms ‘non-realistic’ conflict. For instance, one
interviewee, Lakshman Singh Duggal, who admitted to murdering a ‘handful’ of innocent
159
Since post-event offspring were too young to truly be conscious of their persecuted
identity in the years immediately following, it is perhaps only after 1966 (and that proximate
period) that they could be said to have engaged in the re-territorialization process.
160
Two refugee interviewees felt the partition experience strengthened communal
consciousness among the Sikh refugees. Interview with Tarlochan Singh. Delhi, 19 August
2010; Interview with Dr Mohinder Singh. Delhi, 21 August 2010. Of course there were some
exceptions to the rule, namely those who actively disassociated from their Sikh religious
identity (Amrita Pritam quoted in Hasan 1998: 2662).
261
Muslims and briefly harbouring a woman abductee, seemed to indicate that his chief
motive was more therapeutic than material:
Their ghosts [of the Muslim victims he killed] still surround me…I have to say there
is rarely a day that goes by that I don’t think about what I’d done…I do regret my
actions now, absolutely…but in truth, at that time…for a good while at
least…finishing these Muslims made me feel at ease…I suppose I wanted them [the
Muslims] to feel the pain I had felt, and will always feel, at losing my sister and
father to the bastards that plundered my village…[getting increasingly
emotional]…I felt this [killing of Muslims] was the only way the fire inside of me
could be put out.161
This perhaps helps serves to explain why the tactics of violence used against the Muslims in
the east, such as to attack refugee convoys that were already on their way to Pakistan, far
exceeded that ‘necessary’ to prompt their departure (Copland 2002: 697).
Of course, this particular outlet of lower-level re-territorialization was not aimed
solely against the Muslims but, in decades subsequent, and together with some major
changes in the shape of their collective memory of partition (see RQ-3), extended to the
Hindu ‘enemy’ also. This extension occurred partly because conflict behaviour against the
‘original object’, i.e. Muslim Punjabis, was blocked (Coser 1956: 40). Furthermore, it seems
that members of refugee families that did not engage in ‘reprisals’ against Muslims in the
east or forcibly obtain evacuee property, held deeper pent-up feelings of injustice and even
‘shame’ at not being able to exact revenge162 and therefore were more likely to engage in
violence during the Khalistan movement—
A Sikh refugee who did not participate in the partition violence but did so during the
Khalistan movement stated the following:
161
This is not to say refugees who exacted revenge against the Muslims in the east no
longer held a ‘victimhood-rich’ memory of exile, given that they still perceived themselves to
be ‘net losers’ during the partition exchanges, only that for such people the intensity of such
feeling was far less.
162
262
We lost everything we had, we came here penniless…Regretfully I was just a boy at
the time, I was my parents’ eldest [child] but was still physically weak for my age, had I been
older I may have been able to do something to protect the honour of my people…we lost
everything but damage to our honour was more upsetting…I used to think maybe I
could have done something…[Despite saying he has always considered Khalistan a
‘silly idea’, he admitted to ‘foolishly’ helping to prompt the departure of some local
Hindu shopkeepers during the militant movement. When asked if he had any
regrets?]…Feel sorry for them [the Hindus]?...Why not ask the Hindus in Delhi if they
are sorry for burning our people alive?…I haven’t heard even one apology yet...Let’s
not forget we Sikhs have suffered more dislocation than anyone else, the partition [of 1947] cut
us right down the middle? Who was there to feel sorry for us, what sympathy did we get from
India?...In fact, rather than help us, [Vallabhbhai]Patel called us a ‘criminal tribe’,
can you believe that?...After everything we had done for the freedom of the
country, they are calling us such names [emphasis added].163
Whereas a Sikh refugee, who had participated in the partition violence but did not
participate during the Khalistan movement, made the following observation:
It is impossible for you to imagine the transformation that people went through
from the periods of calm beforehand, to the hell that was unleashed during those
bitter months…A [Muslim] person who I had despised two days beforehand
because of an argument we had over some trivial matter actually came to my rescue
at the risk of his own life…Yet people who you thought were sincere, who you
could depend on to remain calm, went completely berserk…it was like that for me,
I could never have imagined that I was capable of killing another being, it was simply not in
my character… but it was the conditions that drove me to it…[When asked about
whether the Khalistani militancy was justified] No not at all, partition thought me a
lesson that this kind of violence can only bring misery ultimately, there is no positive which
can come out of it, because the people who get killed ultimately are always the ones who are
innocent, the instigators on the other hand only spark the flames, disappear during the
fighting, and then profit from the misery afterwards [emphasis added].164
163
164
263
A second lower-level form of persecuted identity was Sikh refugee attempts to
ghettoise (Puri et al. 1999: 40), if not completely monopolise, the space around which they
had settled. This was particularly apparent in urban centres. The chief means for doing so,
especially true of those Sikhs from castes with a mercantile tradition (i.e. Khatris/Aroras),
was to not only enter into the service industry hitherto dominated by Hindu banias, but to
do so through ‘aggressive’ means. This aggression, stemming largely (though by no means
solely) from their partition experiences, led them to (among other things) adopt a near riskaverse attitude to business.165 Providing evidence in this regard, Dr Mohinder Singh,
remarked:
You know there was a joke about us…it goes, when the British came back to Delhi
in 1948 a few months after they left, they asked someone in the restaurant, ‘Where
are all those tall handsome waiters that used to serve us last time gone?’…and the
owner replies ‘The Sikh refugees?...They are all running big businesses across the
city’ [Laughter]…You see when we came the local banias considered us a threat to
their enterprise…So what we used to do is buy stocks of sugar, and then sell them at cost
price…The banias said, ‘Oh they’ll never make any profit, what do they know about
business?’…but then since everyone was buying from us we put them out of work
Clearly such entry and behaviour, while spelling many positive impacts for their host
society, came almost exclusively at the expense of the Hindu bania.167 This gave the
‘business rivalry’ a manifestly communal dimension (see Chapter 1: 42-43). In addition,
and giving way to occasions of intra-group competition, the fact that there were numerous
incidents of wealthy Sikh refugees extending financial support (sometimes even across caste
lines) to fellow Sikh refugees, a privilege which seldom stretched to Hindus, would suggest
165
Many Sikhs share this view (Sikh refugee #35 quoted in Keller 1975: 84, Interview
with Jagdish Singh conducted by Prof. Ian Talbot’. Amritsar, 21 November 2002. Quoted in
Talbot and Tatla 2006: 115).
166
167
The existence of such friction between Khatri Sikhs and Hindu bania in areas of
trade has been noted by Gopal Singh (1987: 222).
264
that their entry into business, and ‘aggression’ in such matters, had at least a partial
communal motive in conjunction with more obvious financial ones.
A third lower-level re-territorialization outlet involved refugees voting for, and
engaging with, principally ‘communal-leaning’ political parties. In the Sikh refugee case,
this was seen in their support for the SAD, which was disproportionately high,168 as
opposed to apparently more ‘secular’ parties such as the INC. Hukum Singh, who
exhibited strong communal sensibilities during his long political career, admitted that his
purpose, objective or functions, whatever you might call them, after joining the
Constituent Assembly, were confined mainly to two spheres…One was service to
the refugees because [he] was also a refugee, and…had suffered much in Pakistan.
And the other was securing safeguards for the minorities [i.e. Sikhs].169
It is also worth noting, though strictly not of direct relevance to H2, that Hindu refugees,
sharing similar partition-related experiences/grievances to that of the Sikh refugees, also
exhibited a political ‘shift to the right’ by forming a key constituency for the Jan
Sangh/BJP (Gupta 1996: 22).
Wider-Level Re-Territorialization
In addition to lower-level forms of expression, Sikh refugees/post-event offspring have
endeavoured to re-territorialize their persecuted identity through wider-level means as well.
However, particular wider-level outlets have had greater prominence at certain times than
have others since 1947.
168
Jeffrey 1986: 110. This was also partly owed to pre-existing caste allegiances
between the Sikh refugee voters, who were largely Khatri, and the Khatri-dominated SAD
leadership (which was the case until 1962).
169
1976. Acc No.344 [OHC]: 103.
265
In the period immediately following their arrival into truncated Punjab/India, it appears
that the Sikh refugees sought to re-territorialize their persecuted identity by subscribing to,
albeit to varying degrees, all five wider-level outlets available: namely, WL-1, WL-2, WL-3,
WL-4 and WL-5.
Passive association with their departed homeland (WL-1) was demonstrated by
virtually all refugees.170 This involved; 1) frequent reference, at times of recall, to their
former, ancestral homes, agricultural lands, as well as Sikh cultural and historic sites; 2)
attaching the name of their ancestral village/town to their own surname, or
maintaining/adding territorial reference to their former villages or towns in their business
names; and 3) displaying, what might be described as, subtle ‘re-unificationist sentiment’,
such as viewing partition with deep regret,171 or by favouring ‘softer borders’,172 or
advocating some form of confederation173 between all former Indian territories.
There were also assertive demands to return to their homeland (WL-2). This outlet
was subscribed to for the shortest period of time out of the five outlets available, perhaps, at
most, for a few months after their arrival. Evidence that this outlet was subscribed to at all
comes from the numerous refugee testimonies which suggest that they had assumed that
migration would only be a ‘temporary measure’ and had, in consequence, left many of their
movables in West Pakistan or failed to sell their assets prior to setting off eastward.174 In
170
Indeed it remains an outlet for many refugees/post-event offspring until the present
day.
171
This view cuts across political alignments. With the Khalistani, and Sikh refugee,
Ganga Singh Dhillon who lost his father during the partition violence, referring to assassinated
Pakistani statesman Chaudhari Elahi as, ‘a great man…[since] he was always for the unity of
India and Pakistan’ [emphasis added] (quoted in Satinder Singh 1982: 148).
172
All of the following interviewees have expressed their support for ‘softer borders’
between India and Pakistan (the first two being post-event offspring, and the latter three
refugees)—Interview with Massa Singh. Amritsar, 20 September 2010; Interview with
Tridivesh Singh Maini. London, 7 March 2011; ‘Interview with Dalip Singh conducted by Prof.
Ian Talbot’. Amritsar, 18 January 2003. Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 71; ‘Interview with
Gurbachan Singh Bhatti conducted by Prof. Ian Talbot’. Amritsar, 18 February 2003. Quoted in
Talbot and Tatla 2006: 77; ‘Interview with Gurdeep Singh Bhatia conducted by Prof. Ian
Talbot’. Amritsar, 23 January 2003. Quoted in Talbot and Tatla 2006: 92.
173
174
Sikh refugee #13 quoted in Keller 1975: 44; Interview with Paramjit Singh Sarna.
Delhi, 21 August 2010; Interview with Kuldip Nayar. Delhi, 29 August 2010.
266
fact, many refugees conceded that ‘only after some time’ did it dawn on them the migration
was a permanent arrangement. Once this became apparent, they appeared to retract from
this outlet and engaged in other more feasible outcomes. It was perhaps only staunch, but
increasingly marginalised, patriots, chiefly those who had served in the Indian National
Army (INA) under leaders Subhas Chandra Bose and General Mohan Singh, who
continued to support this outlet (this was in concurrence with their wider vision to destroy
Pakistan and bring about a complete re-unification of India).
Tying their identity with that of India (WL-3), though this was a moderately popular
outlet, it must be said that, and contrary to the suggestion made by Kamath (1984: 139),
this was problematic for both Sikhs and Hindus. This is largely because of; 1) the bitterness
toward the INC for having ‘sold out’ on the refugees by consenting to partition; and 2) the
dilemma arising from the fact ‘their’ homes, and what they understood as constituting
‘their’ Punjab, ‘their’ India, now lay under Pakistani sovereignty. Consequently, tying their
persecuted identity with their host-nation, which despite still being India by name, seemed
slightly feigned. However, it is probably true that Sikh refugees had more difficulty than the
Hindu refugees in this regard (Narang 1986: 28-29). Principally because the Sikh refugees
held fears, whether legitimate or not, that their unique religious identity would be absorbed
into the majority, Hindu, one. Therefore WL-3 came with the condition that it could
persist only as long as the Indian state and Hindu majority respected the Sikh community
and its religious freedoms.
Pursuit of autonomy (WL-4) was undoubtedly the most popular outlet of widerlevel re-territorialization expressed by the Sikh refugees. Evidence for this is twofold; 1)
their choice of destination, unlike most Hindu refugees, tended to be east Punjab (see
Chapter 1: 76); and 2) their role in prompting Muslims to leave east Punjab, thereby
‘sanctifying’ their new land for their hitherto persecuted Sikh identity to flourish. Although
fairly obvious, the main reason for why WL-4 was the most popular at this stage was
because it was the most desirable outlet among the feasible ones available.
267
As far as support for an outright separatist movement (WL-5) was concerned, while
there were reports of armed Akali bands distributing leaflets across east Punjab in the name
of the ‘Government of Khalistan’ and the Maharajah of Patiala allegedly contemplating
heading a confederation of Sikh states (Dhanwantri and Joshi 1947: 24-25), this was
perhaps the least endorsed wider-level outlet. The following reasons give an indication as to
why this was the case (in the order of the first being the most important); 1) it was simply
not viable to carve out, and sustain, a separate state of their own; 2) there was an
awareness, at least among politically alert Sikhs, that Nehru had promised them a ‘glow of
freedom’ in India and so it was thought that he, allegedly being a man of principle, would
do good on that; 3) there was a belief that India would pursue a path of secularism, be it in
the French tradition of laïcité or the Hindu manner of sarva dharma sambhava, meaning that
the Sikh religion and identity would be able enjoy sufficient freedom; and 4) the Sikh
refugees held a sense of compassion for the Hindu Punjabis, particular those that were also
made refugees, and so did not want to behave ‘selfishly’ like the Muslims who had
demanded their own state irrespective of the wishes of other communities historically
rooted to the Punjab.
In the period between 1950 and 1966 the choice of wider-level outlets subscribed to by the
Sikh refugees witnessed considerable change from what had been the case during the
previous epoch. While WL-1 remained quite popular; both WL-2 and WL-5 (for reasons
pertaining to a lack of feasibility) virtually ceased to be articulated. At the same time WL-4
not only remained the most prevalent but grew even more so and, seemingly, at the direct
expense of WL-3.
The clearest evidence in support of the view that WL-4 was an increasingly popular
outlet was the strong Sikh refugee support for the controversial175 Punjabi suba demand, in
which they actually played a ‘lead-role’. Of course, one could conceivably argue that; first,
It was ‘controversial’ in the sense that it provoked strong resistance from certain
sections among the Hindus.
175
268
the suba was a territorial demand based on their linguistic identity rather than religious, and
so was not one that the refugees had experienced persecution of in West Pakistan (and so
by definition was not in need of re-territorializing); and second, this was something which
enjoyed pan-Sikh support (i.e. not just refugees).
However although the suba was sought ‘officially’ along linguistic lines, the
underlying basis was in fact communal: the desire to create a Sikh majority state. Evidence
for this is both circumstantial and direct. The circumstantial evidence being that; 1) the
SAD initially put forward a demand for a Sikh state across seven out of the total thirteen
districts of east Punjab on 7 August 1947 without any no reference to its linguistic character,
and did so on the condition that their calls for Sikhs to be given a reservation of seats and
separate electorates in post-partition India were rejected (Sharma 1992: 75); 2) when the
SAD eventually submitted their territorial demand for a re-truncated east Punjab along
‘linguistic’ grounds to the States Reorganisation Commission in 1955, it excluded from its
claims the Hindu majority Kangra district despite it being overwhelmingly Punjabispeaking in composition (Chopra 1984: 102); and 3) the symbolism attached to the suba
demand was inextricably linked to the Sikh religion, including the phraseology used by
SAD elites,176 starting pro-suba processions from Sikh shrines and on dates important to the
Sikh calendar.177 The direct evidence being that; 1) based on numerous meetings author
Khushwant Singh claims to have had with Master Tara Singh, it was agreed that the
‘linguistic argument [would only be the] sugar-coating for what was essentially a demand
for a Sikh majority state’ (1992: 40); 2) according to Sant Fateh Singh, Master Tara Singh
was really only after a Sikh majority suba rather than a Punjab one, with the latter
‘allegedly’ telling the Sant during a private discussion, ‘[f]or the present, we will talk of the
language as the basis, later on things will get crystallised by themselves’ (quoted in Anand
1966: 5); 3) Master Tara Singh, who as SAD chief led the suba demand until 1962 when he
was deposed by Sant Fateh Singh, admitted, to Baldev Raj Nayar, that
176
177
Master Tara Singh quoted in Nayar 1966: 242.
Kapur 1986: 213.
269
[t]his cover of a Punjabi-speaking-state slogan serves my purpose well since it does
not offend against nationalism. The Government should accept our demand under
the slogan of a Punjabi-speaking state without a probe—what we want is Azadi. The
Sikhs have no Azadi. We will fight for our Azadi with full power even if we have to
revolt for our Azadi (quoted in Nayar 1966: 37).
While the suba was a demand that both refugee and non-refugee Sikhs supported,
there are credible grounds to suggest that the former played a ‘lead-role’. The reasons for
this include; 1) that the SAD leadership (and its associated political demands), up until
1962, had been dominated by Sikh refugees178 and drew its support largely from such
people. Indeed, one Sikh refugee remarked that,
I was a supporter of the suba after partition…I sincerely felt that Sikhs should have
a seat of political power, bearing in mind that we hadn’t got anything from the
partition…but in hindsight I would say it has been harmful to the Sikhs, we lost yet
more of our shrines and other resources.179
2) the suba demand disguised an underlying insecurity that existed among its supporters
regarding their religious identity. Although both refugees and non-refugees could be said to
have exhibited such anxieties, it was more so in the case of former as they were first-hand
witnesses to the communal genocide inflicted against their people in West Pakistan. In
other words refugee ‘paranoia’ over threats to Sikh identity had more substantive basis than
that held by non-refugees. Indeed many of the latter, especially those who had not been
involved in the diffusion process, simply could not appreciate such sentiment.
178
This view is shared by Robin Jeffrey (1986: 110). There are some other reasons
which contributed towards the high ‘refugee’ composition in the SAD at this stage; first, that the
Khatri caste, most of whom became refugees as a result of partition, had dominated the SAD
leadership even before 1947 and merely continued in that vein following; and second, the fact
that the political capital of British Punjab, Lahore, went to Pakistan meant that most serving
Sikh members of the PLA, even if they represented in east Punjab, had residences there and
hence effectively became refugees also.
179
270
In spite of the creation of the Punjabi suba, the sense of Sikh isolationism from the national
mainstream, which had built-up steadily during the course of the previous two decades,
seemed to persist even beyond 1966. In fact, it appears that, apart from a few isolated
occasions in which Indian nationalist sentiment witnessed a mini-surge (i.e. most notably
during the war with Pakistan in 1971), the trend of growing subscription to WL-4 at the
expense of WL-3 continued apace for Sikh refugee families (by this time inclusive of postevent offspring as well as Sikh refugees proper). This was evidenced most clearly by
refugee/post-event offspring association with Sikh ethno-nationalist charters such as the
Anandpur Sahib Resolution and Rajiv-Longowal Accord, which together included issues
pertaining to revisions of centre-state relations in favour of more autonomy for the latter,
raising the punitive land-ceilings for agriculturalists, ensuring Punjab secured a ‘just’
amount of ‘her’ river-waters, that Chandigarh be awarded to Punjab state etc.
However, unlike with the Punjabi suba demand in the previous epoch, it cannot be
sensibly suggested that Sikh refugees played a ‘lead-role’ in this instance owing to the fact
that by this stage the SAD leadership, and crucially nearly all the signatories to the
Anandpur Sahib Resolution, were Malwa Jats, i.e. not refugees. Nevertheless, it can be
said that refugee association with WL-4 prompted an evoking of their, by now, increasingly
anti-Hindu/anti-India (see RQ-3) ‘victimhood-rich’ partition memory to support this
conviction and, by consequence, heightened its potency and widened the scope for the
diffusion (see RQ-2) of this memory. The net effect of this was to increase the conflictpotential of Sikh ethno-national demands far beyond what the numerical strength of the
refugees would otherwise warrant. To be exact, contemporary Sikh grievances vis-à-vis the
centre seemed far more acute if one incorporated the refugee exilic memories of their
livelihoods in territories that became West Pakistan rather than just comparing them to
pan-Sikh livelihoods immediately prior to the 1966 trifurcation. This can be demonstrated
with reference to some of the clauses in the Anandpur Sahib Resolution/Rajiv-Longowal
Accord, including the three mentioned below.
271
First of all, with regards to the clause on land-ceilings, since Sikh in west Punjab
tended to constitute, proportionally, the biggest zamindari group across Punjab, the ‘stepdown’ in both the size and fertility of the land following their arrival into east Punjab was
far more severe than for those Sikhs native to the east who had mostly never, even before
1947 and much less in the years immediately prior to 1966, owned such vast plots.
Second concerns the issue of Punjab’s river-waters. While all Sikhs could express
regret at the loss/diversion of ‘their’ rivers, by incorporating Sikh refugee memories of their
pre-partition livelihoods—so as to include (in addition to rivers flowing through east
Punjab) the loss of rivers such as the Indus, Jhelum, Chenab and most of the Ravi, as well
as all nine canal colonies—led to the water predicament in Punjab, a state expected to serve
as the ‘breadbasket’ of India, seem all the more chastising. Consider this statement from an
Amritsar-based refugee originally from Lahore:
It’s sad to see now that we only have two, at best two-and-a-half, out of those [Punjab]
rivers…Yet we still call this place Punjab, but how can it be?…To make matters worse our
rivers have been diverted by the sarkar in Delhi, towards the Hindus of Haryana,
Rajasthan…these are Punjabi waters, and they have been since the dawn of history…you
need only to look at a satellite map to see for yourself…this is [a] fact…They [New Delhi]
say, ‘Oh we must do this [divert waters]…it is for the good of the nation…besides
the source of Indus rivers are in the Himalayas not in Punjab’…It’s easy to say that
when you are the ones benefitting from this…but if they are motivated by the
nation’s interest, if they are truly doing it for the national interest, then why don’t
they divert these rivers from near their sources towards exclusively Indian territory
or build dams up there to stop any water from running to Pakistan?...Now that
would be for the national interest…I’m sure if the source was in Pakistan we
wouldn’t even be getting even a drop of that [emphasis added].180
Third, since it was commonly held that Chandigarh was built for Punjabis to
compensate for the loss of Lahore (Indian Express 2009), by incorporating Sikh refugee
partition memory, especially the Lahoris among them, made the decision to make it a
Union Territory, and a shared administrative capital with Haryana state, look all the more
180
272
unfair to the Sikhs (especially when many of the Hindus in Haryana, by claiming their
mother tongue to be Hindi, had essentially seized to regard themselves as Punjabi any
longer).
From 1981 onwards, though WL-4 remained, by-and-large, the most popular wider-level
outlet among Sikh refugees and their post-event offspring, it is clear that WL-5, which had
hitherto lain largely dormant, witnessed a revival. This can be seen in large-scale Sikh
refugee/post-event offspring participation and facilitation of Khalistani-based militancy.
Such was the refugee contribution in this regard that this study came across evidence to
suggest that they actually played a ‘lead-role’ in the rise of the Khalistan movement.181 For
instance, in addition to excerpts from interviews taken with Surinder Singh Grewal (see
RQ-2) and Avtar Singh Kohli (see RQ-4), the following interviewee remarks are revealing
in this regard:
The militancy broke caste barriers, actually there were occasions when a cell would
be headed by a Mazhabi, with Jat boys acting as their understudy…this kind of
thing would have been unheard of in previous times…but all in all it was the Jats
who dominated the militancy, at least by its peak…although, this wasn’t the case from
the start…for the first few years at least, at least until Blue Star and maybe for some time
more, it was Khatri youth [post-event offspring] that were taking up arms…so it was
natural for Jats to follow the Khatris, as all ten of our Gurus were from that caste
Those who had come from Pakistan at the time of partition…you could say they
were more aggrieved at the situation [during the 1980s] than others…from where
they [have] been over there [in Pakistan], living like kings and all, to what was
going on here, having to compete with the banias just to stay afloat…So I would say
the Bhapas were the ones who started much of the rioting against the Hindus…this
The theme of refugees playing a ‘lead-role’ in nationalist projects is one that was
exhibited by the refugee Turk population during the 1920s with respect to the establishment of a
Turkish republic in Anatolia during the demise of the Ottoman Empire (Zürcher 2013).
182
Interview with Davinder Singh. Ludhiana, 2 September 2010.
181
273
was early on…places like Patiala…this was two or three years of years before
1984…but I think, it must have occurred to them later that Khalistan might well
result in their freedom from the bania, but instead they will have to face domination
from the Jats [laughter]…Maybe this is why Khalistan could never have come in,
because all Sikhs other than Jats feared the Jats [laughter].183
Speculating as to why did Sikh refugees and their post-event offspring may have been more
willing to associate themselves with or directly participate in the Khalistan militancy than
their non-refugee ethnic kin, it is worth considering the following factors.
First, since refugees/post-event offspring had suffered far more adversely from
partition than their non-refugee ethnic kin (see RQ-1), they had further reason to feel
aggrieved at their current predicament for which they viewed, as per the present shape of
their partition memory, the Hindus as culpable.
The second factor being the prevailing sense of injustice, especially for those who
had not managed to exact ‘revenge’ from the stranded Muslims immediately upon arrival,
and the intensity of this feeling at the time meant that engagement in the Khalistan
movement, which involved violence against Hindu Punjabis and the Indian state forces,
provided an opportunity to rectify past injustices done to them or elder members of their
family at the time of partition.
A third factor was the paranoia associated with the loss of, and attacks to, Sikh
identity were more pronounced, since they had either personal or familial experience of
being persecuted for their religious identity and being driven out from their ethnic
homelands. A fourth reason that Sikh refugees and their post-event offspring seemed more
willing to associate themselves with Khalistani militancy was that since 1962, and the
Malwa Jat usurping of SAD power, the Khatris, who made up the bulk of the Sikh refugee
population, moved further to ‘the right’ in a bid to maintain their political visibility vis-à-vis
the Sikh masses.184
183
Interview with Gurbaksh Singh. Ludhiana, 4 September 2010.
It is a point of note that many of the leaders of pro-Khalistani groups, such as the Dal
Khalsa as well as many militant cells, were from refugee families.
184
274
Whether or not one is inclined to agree with the view that Sikh refugees and their
post-event offspring played a ‘lead-role’ in the rise of the Khalistan movement and the
potential reasons for that, it is undoubtedly the case that, very much as with the Anandpur
Sahib Resolution/Rajiv-Longowal provisions, mere refugee association with the Khalistan
movement (WL-5), and the frequent use of their victimhood-rich ‘collective memory’ of
partition to support that association, manifestly increased the conflict-potential of this
movement.
Summary
It can be seen from this discussion, that the Sikh refugees and their post-event offspring
sought to re-territorialize their persecuted identity and did so through both lower-level and
wider-level forms of expression. The precise outlets subscribed to have not been uniform at
any stage since 1947, though clearly particular ones assumed heightened popularity at
certain times more than others185 as represented by the trends noted in the above section. It
also appears, in part drawn from the findings of RQ-3, that forms/outlets of reterritorialization expressed and the shape/potency of their exilic memory enjoyed a
reciprocal relationship, whereby the former influenced the latter just as the latter did the
former (see Figure 2).
In the context of this research question’s explicit relevance to H2, it is observable
that refugee and post-event offspring subscription to WL-5 coincided with the rise of the
Khalistan movement. However, as with the shape and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugeetinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory (see RQ-3), just because it coincided with the Khalistan
movement this does not necessarily mean that it played a contributory role i.e. it could be
that refugee/post-event subscription to WL-5 occurred in direct response to the unfolding
conflict, and exerted no (or no substantial) effect upon the rise of the Khalistan movement.
Yet, judging by the evidence discussed above, there are credible grounds to suggest that
Sikh refugees and their post-event offspring played a ‘lead-role’ in the rise of the Khalistan
Owing to variables such as; first, one’s contemporary political allegiance; and
second, the desirability and feasibility of the territorial goals attached to these outlets.
185
275
movement or, at the very least, far raised the conflict-potential by their association with the
demand.
However the argument can be further strengthened by addressing what the analysis
suggests with respect to the final research question (see RQ-5), and to validating the casespecific hypothesis (H2).
V. Did areas of Punjab holding the highest rates of Sikh refugee
population concentration correspond with higher rates of Khalistani
militancy?
Granting that Sikh refugee collective memory of partition, the diffusion process, the shape
and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh memory, and the re-territorialization
process, were all influenced by the Khalistan movement; this following section will
demonstrate whether or not the combined effect of the above, i.e. the two predetermined
outcomes and their associated variables, served as a net contributing factor towards the rise
of the Khalistan movement. This will be done by using the Spearman’s Rank Correlation
Coefficient test to assess the direction and strength of the relationship between Sikh refugee
population distribution and militancy rates across the various districts of Punjab in the
period corresponding with the rise of the Khalistan movement.
Datasets
Census figures on refugee distribution:

Born in Pakistan Population (BPP), 1981 (% of State-level BPP) (see Map 11)

Born in Pakistan Population (BPP), 1991 (% of State-level BPP) (see Map 12)
Militancy figures during rise of Khalistan movement;

Police Officers Martyred in Punjab 1986-1990 (see Map 13)

Hard-core Terrorists Killed in Punjab 1988-1990 (see Map 14)
Militancy figures during rise and decline of Khalistan movement;

Police Officers Martyred in Punjab 1986-1993 (see Map 15)

Hard-core Terrorists Killed in Punjab 1988-1993 (see Map 16)
276
Map 9 Administrative Boundaries of Punjab, 1981
Area
(Sq/Km)
PUNJAB
50362.00
Gurdaspur (1)
3562.00
Amritsar (2)
5087.00
Firozpur (3)
5874.00
Ludhiana (4)
3857.00
Jalandhar (5)
3401.00
Kapurthala (6)
1633.00
Hoshiarpur (7)
3881.00
Ropar (8)
2085.00
Patiala (9)
4584.00
Sangrur (10)
5107.00
Bhatinda (11)
5551.00
Faridkot (12)
5740.00
277
Map 10 Administrative Boundaries of Punjab, 1991
Area
(Sq/Km)
PUNJAB
50362.00
Gurdaspur (1)
3562.00
Amritsar (2)
5087.00
Firozpur (3)
5874.00
Ludhiana (4)
3857.00
Jalandhar (5)
3401.00
Kapurthala (6)
1633.00
Hoshiarpur (7)
3881.00
Rupnagar (8)
2085.00
Patiala (9)
4584.00
Sangrur (10)
5107.00
Bhatinda (11)
5551.00
Faridkot (12)
5740.00
278
Map 11 Born in Pakistan, 1981 (% of State-level Born in Pakistan
Population)
20% +
15 - 19.99%
10 - 14.99%
5 - 9.99%
0 - 4.99%
n
% of State-level
Born in Pak. Pop. 1981
PUNJAB
852,611
Gurdaspur
137,171
16.09%
Amritsar
102,127
11.98%
Firozpur
123,122
14.44%
Ludhiana
91,720
10.76%
Jalandhar
116,582
13.67%
Kapurthala
38,725
4.54%
Hoshiarpur
55,621
6.52%
Rupnagar
17,032
2.00%
Patiala
94,111
11.04%
Sangrur
20,505
2.40%
Bathinda
16,866
1.98%
Faridkot
39,029
4.58%
Source: Census of India 1981a: 46-110
279
Map 12 Born in Pakistan, 1991 (% of State-level Born in Pakistan
Population)
20% +
15 - 19.99%
10 - 14.99%
5 - 9.99%
0 - 4.99%
n
% of State-level
Born in Pak. Pop. 1991
PUNJAB
528,452
Gurdaspur
67,990
12.87%
Amritsar
52,200
9.88%
Firozpur
79,728
15.09%
Ludhiana
64,716
12.25%
Jalandhar
77,996
14.76%
Kapurthala
24,313
4.60%
Hoshiarpur
37,041
7.01%
Rupnagar
14,174
2.68%
Patiala
64,370
12.18%
Sangrur
12,130
2.30%
Bathinda
10,180
1.93%
Faridkot
23,614
4.47%
Source: Census of India 1991a: 30-159
280
Map 13 Police Officers Martyred in Punjab 1986-1990
12% +
9 - 11.99%
6 - 8.99%
3 - 5.99%
0 - 2.99%
n
% of State-level Police
Officers Martyred Pop.
PUNJAB
553
Gurdaspur
84
15.19%
Amritsar
207
37.43%
Firozpur
34
6.15%
Ludhiana
43
7.78%
Jalandhar
51
9.22%
Kapurthala
12
2.17%
Hoshiarpur
18
3.25%
Rupnagar
22
3.98%
Patiala
31
5.61%
Sangrur
14
2.53%
Bathinda
11
1.99%
Faridkot
26
4.70%
Source: Punjab Police 2011
281
Map 14 Hard-core Terrorists Killed in Punjab 1988-1990
12% +
9 - 11.99%
6 - 8.99%
3 - 5.99%
0 - 2.99%
n
% of State-level Hard-core
Terrorists Killed Pop.
PUNJAB
251
Gurdaspur
33
13.15%
Amritsar
78
31.08%
Firozpur
19
7.57%
Ludhiana
14
5.58%
Jalandhar
22
8.76%
Kapurthala
15
5.98%
Hoshiarpur
16
6.37%
Rupnagar
7
2.79%
Patiala
9
3.59%
Sangrur
1
0.40%
Bathinda
5
1.99%
Faridkot
32
12.75%
Source: SATP 2001a
282
Map 15 Police Officers Martyred in Punjab 1986-1993
n
% of State-level Police
Officers Martyred Pop.
PUNJAB
984
Gurdaspur
130
13.21%
Amritsar
331
33.64%
Firozpur
42
4.27%
Ludhiana
97
9.86%
Jalandhar
74
7.52%
Kapurthala
30
3.05%
Hoshiarpur
26
2.64%
Rupnagar
56
5.69%
Patiala
63
6.40%
Sangrur
48
4.88%
Bathinda
45
4.57%
Faridkot
42
4.27%
Source: Punjab Police 2011
283
Map 16 Hard-core Terrorists Killed in Punjab 1988-1993
12% +
9 - 11.99%
6 - 8.99%
3 - 5.99%
0 - 2.99%
n
% of State-level Hard-core
Terrorists Killed Pop.
PUNJAB
580
Gurdaspur
86
14.83%
Amritsar
176
30.34%
Firozpur
46
7.93%
Ludhiana
49
8.45%
Jalandhar
41
7.07%
Kapurthala
22
3.79%
Hoshiarpur
19
3.28%
Rupnagar
16
2.76%
Patiala
35
6.03%
Sangrur
14
2.93%
Bathinda
24
4.14%
Faridkot
49
8.45%
Source: SATP 2001a
284
Spearman’s Rank Correlation Coefficient Tests
In total eight correlation tests were conducted.

T-1: Born in Pakistan Population (BPP), 1981 (% of State-level BPP) vs. Police
Officers Martyred in Punjab 1986-1990.

T-2: Born in Pakistan Population (BPP), 1981 (% of State-level BPP) vs. Hard-core
Terrorists Killed in Punjab 1988-1990.






285
T-1: Correlation Results
Spearman's rho
Born in Pakistan Pop, 1981
Correlation
Born in
Police Officers
Pakistan Pop,
Killed (1986-
1981
1990)
1.000
.853**
.
.000
12
12
.853**
1.000
.000
.
12
12
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Police Officers Killed (1986-
Correlation
1990)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
**. Correlation is significant at the 0.01 level (1-tailed).
Spearman's rho
Correlation
Born in
Hard-core
Pakistan Pop,
Terrorists Killed
1981
(1988-1990)
1.000
.734**
.
.003
12
12
.734**
1.000
.003
.
12
12
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Hard-core Terrorists Killed
Correlation
(1988-1990)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Spearman's rho
Correlation
Born in
Police Officers
Pakistan Pop,
Killed (1986-
1981
1993)
1.000
.448
.
.072
12
12
.448
1.000
.072
.
12
12
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Correlation
1993)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
286
Spearman's rho
Correlation
Born in
Hard-core
Pakistan Pop,
Terrorists Killed
1981
(1988-1993)
1.000
.701**
.
.006
12
12
.701**
1.000
.006
.
12
12
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Correlation
(1988-1993)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Spearman's rho
Correlation
Born in
Police Officers
Pakistan Pop,
Killed (1986-
1991
1990)
1.000
.769**
.
.002
12
12
.769**
1.000
.002
.
12
12
Born in
Hard-core
Pakistan Pop,
Terrorists Killed
1991
(1988-1990)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Correlation
1990)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Spearman's rho
Correlation
1.000
.587*
.
.022
12
12
.587*
1.000
.022
.
12
12
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Correlation
(1988-1990)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
*. Correlation is significant at the 0.05 level (1-tailed).
287
Spearman's rho
Correlation
Born in
Police Officers
Pakistan Pop,
Killed (1986-
1991
1993)
1.000
.350
.
.132
12
12
.350
1.000
.132
.
12
12
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Correlation
1993)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Spearman's rho
Correlation
Born in
Hard-core
Pakistan Pop,
Terrorists Killed
1991
(1988-1993)
1.000
.571*
.
.026
12
12
.571*
1.000
.026
.
12
12
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
Correlation
(1988-1993)
Coefficient
Sig. (1-tailed)
N
288
Analysis
What the results tell us
The results demonstrate, categorically, that an extremely strong positive relation did exist,
during the period corresponding with the rise of the Khalistan movement, between the two
variables concerned: with results between ‘Born in Pakistan’ data (from both 1981 and 1991
census) and militancy figures (from both Punjab Police and SATP datasets) ending at the end
of 1990, ranging from between +0.587 at the low end and an emphatic +0.853 on the high.
As such, districts with higher rates of refugee population presence, such as
Amritsar186 (which held 11.98 per cent and 9.88 per cent of the total pan-Punjab ‘Born in
Pakistan’ population for 1981 and 1991 respectively) and Gurdaspur (which held 16.09 per
cent and 12.87 per cent of the total pan-Punjab ‘Born in Pakistan’ population for 1981 and
1991 respectively), also had the highest levels of militancy (the combined percentage of
both districts for ‘Police Officers Martyred in Punjab’ totalled 52.62 per cent). Whereas
districts with the lowest proportion of Sikh refugees, such as Sangrur187 (which held 2.40
per cent and 2.30 per cent of the total pan-Punjab ‘Born in Pakistan’ population for 1981
186
In the case of Amritsar, the militancy rates were far higher than one would expect
based on the 1981 and 1991 ‘Born in Pakistan’ figures alone. The reason being that these
figures do not convey the ‘true’ refugee impact that befell this district; since Amritsar city,
being situated along the Grand Trunk Road, served as more of a transit route rather than a place
of permanent settlement for the bulk of Sikh refugees from west Punjab and other parts of West
Pakistan. As such the potential extent for the diffusion process to take place in the immediate
aftermath of partition would have been considerable, and undoubtedly such appropriated
memories remained in the minds of their non-refugee ethnic kin throughout the Khalistan
movement.
187
In the case of Sangrur, one of the reasons its militancy rates were so low had to do
with it being home to Malerkotla, a town which remarkably escaped the communal violence
which engulfed rest of Punjab. As such, very few refugees from Pakistan settled in Malerkotla
and as a result of this and the Khalistani-based militancy which afflicted most of Punjab did not
occur here either. In support of this view, according to a local Muslim from Malerkotla: ‘Before
there was the Partition in the country in 1947, the Muslims used to live here. There were a lot of
majority Muslim areas and Punjab was one of them. In Punjab, from Ludhiana, Jalandhar,
Sirhind, Amritsar, Faridkot, Bathinda a lot of migration took place. Because of that migration a
lot of fighting broke out between these two communities…but not a single person was killed in
Malerkotla…Ten years back when terrorism was at its height, the Sikh people who wanted a
separate Punjab, everywhere people were killed, but not in Malerkotla. And there was no clash
between the communities. They were living just like brothers’ [emphasis added] (quoted in
Bigelow 2004: 173). Furthermore, local-man Sadhu Singh who admitted to ‘not encounter[ing]
any violence during partition’, saying that it was ‘only after travelling outside Malerkotla’ that
he saw ‘some dead bodies floating in a canal’, also remarked that during the Khalistan
movement ‘there were no incidents of fighting or terrorism here [in Malerkotla] between Hindus
and Sikhs’. Malerkotla, 3 September 2009.
289
and 1991 respectively), Bathinda (which held 1.98 per cent and 1.93 per cent of the total
pan-Punjab ‘Born in Pakistan’ population for 1981 and 1991 respectively) and Ropar
(Rupnagar) (which held 2.00 per cent and 2.68 per cent of the total pan-Punjab ‘Born in
Pakistan’ population for 1981 and 1991 respectively), had the lowest levels of militancy.
The combined percentage of these three districts for ‘Hard-core Terrorists Killed in Punjab’
totalled a meagre 5.18 per cent.
Generally up until now, many scholars that have sought to assess the nature of the
Khalistani militancy have tended to suggest that districts such as Amritsar and Gurdaspur
experienced high rates of violence due to both of them being border districts (which had
pre-established networks of smuggling), or because they had amongst the highest
unemployment rates across Punjab at the time (e.g. Major 1987: 56, Gopal Singh 1994: 94,
Pettigrew 1995: 6). The analysis does not refute such conclusions but contributes to a
reassessment of them. This is because, had proximity to the Pakistani border or economic
destitution been the sole reasons behind the rise of militancy as it is claimed, it begs the
question why Patiala in the Malwa region, both geographically at considerable distance
from the border and among the most prosperous districts of Punjab, experienced relatively
high rates of militancy in comparison to neighbouring districts such as Sangrur and Ropar
(Rupnagar). Of course, the only conceivable reason being that Patiala, like Amritsar and
Gurdaspur, had witnessed relatively high levels of refugee population concentration.
However, for correlations with militancy figures extending until 1993 (and hence
incorporating annual death tolls of 1991, 1992 and 1993 which corresponded with the
‘decline’ of the Khalistan movement) the strength of the positive relation was not as strong,
with results ranging from between +0.350 on the low end and +0.701 on the high. What
this tells us is that, while the arrival of Sikh refugees into truncated Punjab contributed
towards rise of the Khalistan movement, it is clear that ‘other factors’ assumed growing
prominence during its decline years. These ‘other factors’ in all likelihood consisted of the
following two. First, that owing to the dynamics of insurgency and counter-insurgency
operations between the militants and state forces, the ‘arenas’ for conflict shifted from their
290
original localities, resulting in violence spreading more through a ‘contagion effect’.
Second, a loss of ideologically purity among militant ranks, noted previously (see Chapter
1: 88-89), resulted in fewer militants being motivated by, or even seeking to cynically ‘use’,
elements of the Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh partition grievances to confront the
‘Hinduized’ Indian state.
What the results do not tell us
The correlation results offer a clear response to the research question, not least because they
were drawn from complete datasets as opposed to samples (and that too from highly credible
sources). Nevertheless, one should avoid deriving unsubstantiated conclusions from them.
For instance, it is not necessarily the case that refugees were more likely than their nonrefugee counterparts to take up pro-Khalistani violence, rather, it is the places where they
settled which witnessed higher rates of militancy. Therefore, if we are to agree with the
opinion of certain scholars who have suggested that the Jat Sikh youth (most of whom
were from non-refugee families and, as ‘youths’, were born after partition) made up the bulk
of the militants (e.g. Dang 1988: 53, Puri et al. 1999: 60, 62, Telford 1992: 977, Pettigrew
1995: 108), this merely demonstrates both the existence and deep extent of the diffusion
process (with the appropriated aspects of the ‘refugee memory’ serving as the life-blood for
the non-refugees’ own ‘memory’ of partition). Furthermore, the militancy figures do not
necessarily convey the full range of support that Khalistan enjoyed. Behind every
individual statistic, there might have potentially been a vast network of people who assisted
the militants, by way of arms and shelter,188 in helping bring about their eventual death or
that of a police officer. Moreover, support for Khalistan need not have been articulated
solely through engagement in, and facilitation of, militant actives. Rather such violence
might be seen as merely the most perceptible part (Randir Singh 1987: 1440).
188
Sukhiwinder Singh Gora quoted in Pettigrew 1995: 161; Rachpal Singh quoted in
Pettigrew 1995: 178.
291
Summary
This above section demonstrates that districts holding the largest proportion of the panPunjab Sikh refugee population witnessed the highest rates of militancy during the rise of
the Khalistan movement. By combining these results with the qualitative conclusions
derived from the first four RQs, the wider H2 has also been successfully verified. However,
though their combined net effect definitely can be seen as a contributing factor, it remains
unclear the degree to which each of them—Sikh refugee collective memory (see RQ-1), the
diffusion process (see RQ-2), the shape and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ panSikh memory (see RQ-3), and the re-territorialization process (see RQ-4)—played in the
rise of the Khalistan movement.
Conclusion
The principle aim of this chapter has been to confirm whether the analysis confirms H2: The
arrival of Sikh refugees into truncated Punjab contributed towards the rise of the Khalistan movement.
It can be reasonably concluded that the analysis does confirm this hypothesis. To recap, the
Sikh refugees brought, through their arrival into truncated Punjab/India, two
predetermined outcomes; first, a ‘victimhood-rich’ collective memory of their exile (see
RQ-1); second, a re-territorialization of their persecuted identity (see RQ-4). Though ethnonational conflict was likely to transpire as a result of refugee arrival, it was not inevitable.
Rather, whether ethno-national conflict arose or not depended upon a set of variables,
which, apart from being interlinked with one another, were subject to the same overarching
contextual conditions. The variables associated with the refugee memory included; 1) its
diffusion into non-refugees, and the rate, depth and content of it (see RQ-2); and 2) the
shape and potency of the Sikh refugee /‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory of
partition (see RQ-3). The variables associated with the re-territorialization process
included; 1) whether lower-level or wider-level forms, and which outlets in particular, were
subscribed to, and their relative popularity within a given period (see RQ-4). Post-1981, it
appears that the variables took forms that were highly conducive towards the rise of ethno292
national conflict. For those associated with memory; 1) high rate and depth to the diffusion
process, particularly concerning the evoking/appropriation of its ‘anti-Hindu/anti-India’
aspects; and 2) the development of an anti-Hindu/anti-India shaped, highly potent, Sikh
refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh memory of partition. For those associated with the reterritorialization process; 1) growing subscription to the WL-5 outlet, with lower-level
forms of expression used to support that goal.
Of course, up until RQ-5, it could have been conceivably argued that the character
these outcomes/variables had assumed during the rise of the Khalistan movement were
actually independent or a direct result of the unfolding conflict rather than a net
contributing factor towards it. However, the statistical results produced have dispelled these
criticisms.
293
Conclusion
Introduction
As discussed in Chapter 1, the thesis was animated by observations made of ethno-national
conflicts erupting in societies around the world that had experienced considerable refugee
influxes (see Table 1). Analysis of the literature on both ethno-national conflict and
refugees revealed that there was a need for further exploration of the impact of refugees on
host countries. The main hypothesis (H1) was that: The arrival of refugees into their host
societies will likely contribute towards the rise of ethno-national conflict. Its validity was tested
through in-depth analysis of a single case study: that of the Sikh refugees of India’s
partition, and their relation to the rise of the ethno-nationalist struggle for Khalistan. For
this, a case-specific hypothesis (H2) was advanced: The arrival of Sikh refugees into truncated
Punjab contributed towards the rise of the Khalistan movement. To test this case-specific
hypothesis, five research questions were formulated. The first four of these questions were
tested through an analysis of qualitative data; and the fifth through qualitative analysis.
Section I of this chapter presents the findings of the analysis and affirms that these
provide verification of the hypothesis. Section II then discusses the ways in which the
study has provided a unique contribution in the associated literature. Furthermore this
chapter will seek to impart any policy recommendations for host societies/nations dealing
with refugee populations and/or, where appropriate, managing/containing incidents of
ethno-national conflict (Section III). Finally, Section IV will highlight prospective scope
for further enquiry beyond this study.
I. Verification of Hypotheses
As discussed above, the strength of H1 was tested through the application of a specific case
study (H2). However in order to test H2, a total of five research questions were formulated.
The answers to which would, together, not only test whether a positive relation existed
294
between refugee arrival and ethno-national conflict but, in the event this relation was found
to exist, to determine why this might be so. Through the lens of the theoretical framework,
the four qualitative questions (RQ-1 to RQ-4) were designed to capture, along with the
condition of their associated variables, the two predetermined outcomes brought about
through refugee arrival, namely ‘victimhood-rich’ refugee collective memory and the reterritorialization of their persecuted identity. The fifth question (RQ-5) was formulated with
the expectation that its answer would provide a conclusive quantitative demonstration as to
whether or not a correlation existed. The answers that respective research questions yielded
are recapped below.

The evidence consulted suggests that a ‘victimhood-rich’ Sikh refugee collective
memory of partition did indeed exist and was one which, in content, was
qualitatively different from that held by non-refugee Sikhs.

There was clear evidence to suggest that a diffusion process took place. Nonrefugee Sikhs, consisting both of non-refugee ethnic kin and post-event offspring,
appropriated aspects of the Sikh refugee collective memory of partition. This
resulted in a ‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh collective memory. The diffusion process
occurred at a more considerable rate and depth at certain times more than others,
such as during periods of considerable political tensions and ethno-national
violence in Punjab.

The shape and potency of Sikh refugee/‘refugee-tinged’ pan-Sikh collective
memory appeared to modify upon context. The shape, which was vehemently antiMuslim in the aftermath of 1947, grew steadily more anti-Hindu/anti-India with
295
time. However, the potency of the memory, which was at its peak in the immediate
aftermath of 1947, remained quite low except for the period corresponding with the
rise of the Khalistan movement. Therefore it appears that times when the shape of
the memory was particularly ‘anti’ in shape, and potent, corresponded with periods
of ethno-national conflict in Punjab—including during the Khalistan movement.

persecuted identity, and, if so, have the forms of expression deployed changed
with context?
The Sikh refugees did indeed re-territorialize their persecuted identity in India
through both lower-level and wider-level forms. The observable trends in this
regard, were taking a ‘lead-role’, or at least provided inspiration for, zero-sum
territorial demands, whether Punjabi suba (WL-4) or Khalistan (WL-5)—which
inevitably created ethnic-tensions/conflict vis-à-vis out-groups.

The bivariate tests that were conducted showed a strong positive correlation
between refugee arrival and ethno-national conflict. This proved that the net effect
of the four qualitative phenomena (RQ-1 to RQ-4) accompanying Sikh refugee
arrival, was to contribute toward the rise of the Khalistan movement.
Figure 5 Testing of Hypotheses
296
The answers to the four qualitative research questions confirmed that Sikh refugees did
indeed bring with them two predetermined outcomes, a ‘victimhood-rich’ collective
memory and a propensity to re-territorialize their persecuted identity. However during the
period corresponding to the Khalistan movement, it appeared that the associated variables
took forms that were conducive towards violence. First, for the Sikh refugee collective
memory; 1) the diffusion process occurred to a high rate and depth; and 2) the shape of
memory was anti-Hindu and it was of a potent level. Second, for the re-territorialization of
persecuted identity; 1) that a critical mass of Sikh refugees engaged in zero-sum
expressions, such as WL-4 and, in particular, WL-5.
Yet, based on the first four qualitative answers alone, it could not be said
conclusively that the combined effect of the two predetermined outcomes and the condition
of their variables contributed towards the rise of the Khalistan movement. For it could have
been, quite legitimately, argued, as outlined towards the end of the previous chapter, ‘that
the character these outcomes/variables had assumed during the rise of the Khalistan
movement were actually independent or a direct result of the unfolding conflict rather than
a net contributing factor towards it’ (see Chapter 5: 293). This is why it was necessary to
include the quantitative question, for it provided a definitive answer: thereby verifying the
advanced case-specific hypothesis (H2) and, by consequence, the generic hypothesis (H1)
from which it was drawn.
II. Original Contribution
The thesis makes a contribution to the existing literature in several ways.
Discourse on Ethno-National Conflict
As was discussed previously (see Chapter 1: 31-47), the literature on the rise of ethnonational conflict—divided between structural, political, economic and cultural factors—has
been devoid of any suggestion that refugee arrival could conceivably serve as a contributory
297
factor. For such literature, the connection between ethno-national conflict and refugees is
exclusively one-way—namely the latter being a by-product of the former. However, the
findings from this thesis now, in their own right, not only constitute an additional
contributory/factor in the associated literature, but can also be applied across the existing
groups of factors—since ‘refugee arrival’, by definition, has implications for the structure of
the host society, as it does for its political, economic and cultural milieu.
Furthermore, this thesis has the potential to reopen analysis of cases of ethnonational conflict which had been, till now, inadequately explained and/or inexplicable to
sensible reasoning. An example in this regard would be the eruption of the Yugoslav Wars
(1991-1995) and the brutalities associated with it, in which external observers were left
bemused as to how areas of the country which had been so ‘mixed’, and ostensibly
integrated, could all of a sudden deteriorate into hotbeds of ethnic cleansing, especially
when other post-communist states that were forming/disintegrating at that time did so
without any large-scale bloodshed.
Discourse on Refugees
As with that surrounding ethno-national conflict, the literature that has sought to explain
the impact of refugees upon host societies (see Chapter 1: 51-54)—spanning demographic,
economic, social impacts—has failed to see how the relation between ethno-national
conflict and refugees could be anything but the latter being a by-product of the former.
However this thesis has demonstrated that, in cases meeting the proscribed provisions (see
Chapter 1: 56-57), the arrival of refugees will likely contribute towards the rise of ethnonational conflict. Therefore as a result of this thesis, refugee arrival not only forms an
additional impact, to add to those already recognised within the associated literature, but
can also, rather than undermining, be seen as the broader outcome of one or a combination
of these existing impacts. For example, in Sindh, Pakistan, the arrival of Muhajirs from
India in 1947, brought with it considerable demographic, economic and social impacts for
298
the province—a combination of which have contributed toward the episodes of ethnonational conflict that Muhajirs have been involved in vis-à-vis their neighbouring groups.
Discourse on Theoretical Concepts
Arguably the standout contribution of this thesis has been the construction of its very own
theoretical framework. Though there is a huge discourse already out there on ‘collective
memory’ (see Appendix I), it goes without saying that much of the associated work
conducted, though highly illuminating in its own right, has lacked conceptual clarity
(Confino 1997: 1386, Kansteiner 2002: 180). As such it was necessary to introduce terms
such as ‘diffusion’, ‘backwash effect’, to explain the processes that occur when memory
breaches the confines of the collective. It also felt that introducing terms such as ‘shape’
and ‘potency’ would give a better understanding as to why certain types of memory are
more menacing than others. Although the terms ‘territorialization’ and ‘deterritorialization’ have been commonly cited in the wider literature, the term ‘reterritorialization’, at least in the context in which it has been applied here, is completely
original to this thesis. This is also true of its associated variables, namely including lowerlevel and wider-level forms/outlets.
The theoretical framework, or indeed particular concepts within it, can be easily
utilised by other academics wishing to embark upon similar studies to this one.
Discourse on Partition
Though the existing literature on partition is incredibly vast (Khushwant Singh 1965,
Pandey 2001, Hasan 2003, Khan 2007), this thesis presents a significant contribution
towards it on no less than three fronts.
The first is that whereas much of the literature in the first few decades after
partition was written very much from an elitist perspective (Mosley 1961, Moon 1962,
Wavell 1973), the literature in recent years, in opposition to the former, has tended to be
from a subaltern, ‘bottom-up’, perspective (Butalia 2000, Kaul 2001, Bhalla 2006a, Kaur
299
2007). Since both have their respective strengths, this thesis opted to do what very few
studies on partition have done thus far by fusing both elitist and subaltern perspectives in
order to produce a more holistic understanding of this event.
Second, as far as partition has been investigated from a collective level, it is fair to
say the vast majority of work has been dominated by the dichotomies of Muslim-Hindu,
Pakistan-India (Aziz 1967, Zakaria 2001). As such the Sikh experience of partition has
been marginalised to a large extent and, when mentioned, conflated with the wider ‘nonMuslim’ experience. Therefore this thesis represents one of the relatively few studies that
have given the Sikh partition perspective near exclusive attention.
Third, this thesis, unlike much of the literature which has concentrated on the
hypothetical and/or retrospectively ‘academic’ questions surrounding partition, focuses
upon the modern relevance of this event and, by doing so, makes it a matter of concern for
political scientists rather than simply historians.
Discourse on Khalistan
In the Khalistan movement literature, surprisingly, the partition of Punjab/India has barely
warranted a mention and/or has been viewed as completely unconnected to the Khalistan
movement (see Chapter 2). What this thesis has provided, besides injecting much needed
historical context to the debate, is a completely original and highly sophisticated
contributory factor—namely the role of the Sikh refugees. In spite of this, this thesis should
only be seen to compliment, rather than replace, the arguments made in the existing
literature.
III. Policy Recommendations
Following verification of the advanced hypotheses and acquiring a careful understanding of
the processes connected with refugee arrival, this thesis is positioned to propose insightful
policy recommendations at both generic and case-specific levels so as to help avert the
prospect of ethno-national conflict arising.
300
Generic Level
At a generic level, especially for nations hosting refugee populations which meet one, or all,
of the three provisions mentioned earlier (see Chapter 1: 56-57), policy recommendations
include;
First, would be to address, or at least ‘openly sympathise’ with (Hamber 2002: 92),
the root of the refugee grievance(s) as opposed to simply offering practical assistance such
as via the granting of welfare aid. This could be achieved by senior public representatives or
media strains within the respective host society openly criticising the conduct of the groups
within the sending states that, through their acts of persecution, provoked the refugee
departure in the first place. Such a policy would certainly reduce the prospect of elements
within the host nation ever constituting ‘substitute objects’ for the refugees to deflect their
hostility on to (Coser 1956: 41).
Second, and closely linked to the previous point, avoid forcibly suppressing refugee
memories of their exile whether by the disingenuous tone of state-textbooks or heavy media
regulations. Rather such grievances, even when they reflect poorly upon the host nation or
certain communities within it, should be permitted open-air, with any extreme or
inaccurate aspects of the refugee memory obliged to be criticised in a similar carte blanche
fashion by others. This would encourage many of the hostilities between groups to be
settled through oral means instead of such memory being supressed within the confines of
collective only to express itself through ethno-national conflict later on.
Third, appreciating the inevitability of refugee/post-event offspring reterritorialization, to ‘chauffer’ their forms of expression towards outlets that are less likely
to provoke the rise of ethno-national conflict i.e. this would usually be towards WL-3. To
achieve such a result, the government of the host society could, both in political and
bureaucratic spheres, take steps to consciously bolster its ‘refugee representation’ and/or
advocate policies sensitive to the needs of such people (providing, of course, it does not
clash with their wider national interests).
301
Case-Specific Level
At a case-specific level, namely the Sikh refugees in Punjab/India, the policy
recommendations include;
First, would be for the Indian state to deal with, or at least reduce the intensity of,
Sikh refugee partition-related grievances. Undoubtedly this is easier said than done, though
the following means would certainly aid in this direction; 1) giving partition a more
deserving place in Indian society, by erecting monuments451 or establishing a dedicated
remembrance day for its victims, rewriting state-textbooks to balance against the focus on
the ‘glories of independence’, since ‘nations, like individuals, need to face up to and
understand traumatic past events before they can put them aside and move on to normal
life’ (Rosenberg 1996: xviii); and 2) engaging in steps, short-term and long-term, to
reintegrate the Indian subcontinent. Initially this should be done through relaxing visa
restrictions452 and encouragement of cultural exchanges, towards, eventually, urging the
various provinces (not nation-states)453 of the Indian subcontinent to come together under a
non-partisan ‘Council of States’, which could convene on a frequent basis to discuss shared
cultural, economic and political goals (such interaction would inevitably serve to reduce the
intensity of xenophobic attitudes that have resulted from decades of harmful nationalist
propaganda).
Second, though admittedly not the main focus of this study, the Indian state and
Hindu majority ought to demonstrate some genuine will and leadership in bringing about
justice to the victims, and their families, of the Punjab insurgency/counter-insurgency and
anti-Sikh pogroms. Therefore, key people affiliated with bodies such as the Punjab police
451
There is just one known monument to the partition victims in India (Khan 2007:
201).
452
This would help refugees and post-event offspring visit friends, their former homes,
and religious sites across the international border.
453
A union of nation-states would not be likely owing to the intense nationalist
propaganda prevailing across South Asia, and due to fears by its smaller units of Indian
hegemony as evident in the largely unsuccessful South Asian Association for Regional
Cooperation (SAARC). On a provincial level however, ‘brotherhood’ between peoples of the
Indian subcontinent is far more manifest (Maini 2007).
302
and/or INC, must be tried in the court of law for the crimes they stand accused of
perpetrating. Certainly this will help demonstrably to restore the Sikhs’ (including refugee)
shattered confidence in the Indian state and will do much to repair relations with their
sister community—the Hindus. Such measures would minimise, if not eliminate, the
prospect of the Khalistani insurgency remerging.
IV. Scope for Further Enquiry
Despite verifying H2, and therefore by consequence H1, there remains scope for further
enquiry beyond this thesis—both in terms of depth and breadth.
Depth
Though the amount of qualitative and quantitative data used was sufficient enough to test
H2, it is difficult to deny that additional evidence would not have further strengthened this
thesis. For instance, this could be achieved through means such as increasing the number of
interviews conducted, the length of time spent on the actual interview, the range of
statistics used etc. However for an in-depth version of this study to be viable, it would
require the services of multiple researchers, a far larger financial budget, accessibility to
high level interviewees/datasets and perhaps more time to complete the project within.
Breath
Although the verification of the only case-specific hypothesis (H2) to be drawn from main
hypothesis (H1) implies the verification of the latter on the basis that it has yet to be
falsified—a common sense understanding would hold that in order for H1 to truly achieve
mainstream credence, it ought to be applied to more than one case-study. Therefore, as a
follow-up to this thesis, using the theoretical framework (see Figure 1) devised and
adhering to the provisions specified (see Chapter 1: 56-57), other scholars, supportive or
antithetical to this study, are invited to test H1 against alternate case studies.
303
Appendix I: Collective Memory
What is it?
Associated with the seminal work of French sociologist Maurice Halbwachs (1925, 1980,
1992), collective memory, as a concept, suggests that individuals within groups, irrespective
of size or description, are bound together by shared memories to the extent that without
them such groups could seldom exist at all.
How is it formed?
Simply by virtue of living through a shared event, or episode, falls short of explaining the
phenomenon that is collective memory. Rather it appears that there are a particular set of
conditions which help to explain why the content of the memory inside the minds of
individual group members converge to the extent that we can speak of ‘collective memory’.
First, consists of the lieux de mémoire within societies that commemorate,
deliberately or otherwise, the history of the group in question (Nora 1989). These sites not
only increase the scope/frequency for recall to occur,454 but it also; 1) make the individual
realise that it is not they, but the group as a whole, that are the protectors of its associated
memory, thus permitting their individual recollections to be subsumed within the wider
group narrative (Schwartz 2000: xi); and 2) depending on the nature of the site, it can
narrow the focus of the individualised memories to a few key aspects (Novick 1999: 28),
thereby homogenising the content of the collective memory.
Second, consists of the social frameworks that surround, or operate above, the
group in question (Bartlett [1932] 1995: 296, Connerton 1991: 1). This could include
institutions connected with the nation-state or particular religious groups, which, through
the officialised texts and doctrines they disseminate, help to promote and regulate the
memories of the group(s) in question (Tulviste and Wertsch 1994); thereby serving to
further collectivise the memory which, without such pressures, would likely be far more
eclectic.
454
Memory, according to Halbwachs, requires external stimuli to prompt its evocation
(1992: 38).
304
Third, closely related to the above condition, is the existence of group interest, be it
material or simple ego preservation, which fosters the development of a certain type of
memory to be evoked (Wood 1999: 2).
Features
Collective memory, and the discourse surrounding it, supposedly exists as an antithesis of
conventional history (Klein 2000: 128), the latter of which chiefly associated with platforms
such as the state education system and national media. Notwithstanding the sometimes
overly crude contrast portrayed between the two (Thelen 1989: 1119, Schwarcz 2002: 164),
it is clear that collective memory has its typical features, which differentiate it from
conventional history and, from this study’s perspective, make it worth
employing/analysing;
First, that the content of the memory, whether or not the individuals within the
collective would concede so, is unashamedly subjective, in that it seeks to promote the
moral and/or legal standing of its own group at the expense of out-groups. It does this by
subjecting the memory to one or a combination of the following processes: skewing,
fabrication, and/or selective amnesia (Burke 1989: 98).
Second, the group itself remains unconscious of the successive deformations to
their collective memory (Nora 1989: 8). This is not to say that conventional history, or
rather the paradigms that exist within it, do not change but only that when new narratives
do emerge they are often referred to as ‘revisionist’ so as to acknowledge the previous, or,
failing that, there exists a documented, accessible, evidence trail to detect its evolution.
However, in the case of collective memory, individuals often resent that their memory has
undergone a change (Lowenthal 1997: 34)—after all, what ground does the layman have to
correct a memory that only those members within the group own?
Third, though a group may be exposed to, or have even mastered, the conventional
history (Deci et al. 1997: 135), it is only their collective memory which they would
‘internalise’—to the extent that it significantly influences their attitudes and behaviour as a
305
result. Of course, there are occasions, usually in ethnically homogenous nations, whereby
the collective memory of the group and the conventional history are almost in sync, but this
is rarely the case.
Criticism
Perhaps the chief argument lodged against collective memory is that made by scholars,
such as Fredric Bartlett, who criticise the ‘more or less absolute likeness [that] has been
drawn between social groups and the human individual’, suggesting that there is an
erroneous tendency to see ‘whatever has been attributed to the latter as being ascribed to
the former’ (1995: 293). Though one can appreciate the basis behind Bartlett’s claim, it
must be said that not even Halbwachs himself suggested that collective memory operated
beyond the level of the individual: ‘[W]hile collective memory endures and draws strength
from its base in a coherent body of people, it is individuals as group members that
remember’ (1980: 48). Nevertheless by conceding that memory can only be formulated and
indeed recalled at the individual level, this does not deny that a particular group may have
individual memories which, in terms of content, ‘overlap’ at varying degrees of extremity
(Campbell 1988: 23)—and it is in this manner that collective memory is understood by this
thesis.
Application
Though collective memory, as a concept, has been theorised as far back as the 1920s, only
in relatively recent decades has it emerged as a popular tool within the social sciences for
explaining group psychology and behaviour. Pioneering in this regard, has been the work
of those scholars, predominantly Jewish in origin, who have attempted to qualitatively
understand the Holocaust from the perspective of its survivors and survivor families, as
well as in terms of Israeli and/or Jewish identity more widely (Stein 1984, Lanzmann
1985, Zerubavel 1994, Hilberg 1996, Weiss 1997, Wistrich 1997, Bischoping and Kalmin
1999, Novick 1999). Such discourse places emphasis upon the subject voice as being of
306
paramount importance, thus contrasting starkly with the depiction of the prevalent
Holocaust historiography which had tended to focus, rather coldly, on numbers and dates.
By doing so, such studies enabled those without first-hand experience of the Holocaust to
truly, or at least more vividly, understand its horrendous nature.
Following its successful application to the Holocaust, scholars from disparate parts
of the world have embarked upon a memorialisation of other traumatic events/episodes
that had hitherto been divorced from the perspectives of those involved. This has included
communist rule in Eastern Europe (Ivankiev et al. 1992, Remnick 1993, Boym 1994) and
the partition of India (Butalia 2000, Hasan 2000, Pandey 2001, Kaur 2001, Kaur 2007).
307
Appendix II: Biodata Form
Interview Form
Tape No:
Date:
Time:
Location:
Name:
Father's Name:
Age:
Religion (Sect):
Caste:
Ancestral home:
Current residence:
Anywhere between:
Pre-1947 occupation:
Post-1947 occupation:
Additional Notes:
308
Appendix III: Semi-Structured Interview Questions
Mandatory Questions:
1. What comes to your mind when, either in passing conversation or in the media, the
year 1947 is mentioned?
2. Do you feel that there was any particular individual or group that was chiefly
culpable for the partition violence of 1947?
3. Do you feel that any one religious community in the subcontinent suffered more
than any other as a result of the implications of partition, and if so, who and why?
4. In hindsight from a Sikh community perspective, do you think Master Tara Singh
was correct to side with the Congress in demanding for the province of Punjab to be
partitioned between Pakistan and India?
5. Do you deem the ideological basis for Pakistan (i.e. the two nation theory, the idea
that the Muslims of the subcontinent constitute a separate nation) to be valid, or
was it a fallacy?
6. At the time of partition, Nehru promised the Sikhs a ‘glow of freedom’, do you feel
this was granted through the creation of the Punjabi suba in 1966?
7. What were your memories of Operation Blue Star in 1984?
8. Who do you consider chiefly responsible for the raid on the Golden Temple and
virtual destruction of the Akal Takht during Operation Blue Star?
9. Do you feel that there was a hidden agenda to deliberately hurt Sikh sentiments
through Operation Blue Star, or do you feel that the Indian government had no
‘other option’ other than the military one it pursued as it is claimed in the White
Paper on the Punjab agitation?
10. What are your memories of Indira Gandhi's assassination and the anti-Sikh
pogroms that followed?
309
11. What is your opinion of the various commissions and reports that have looked into
the anti-Sikh pogroms? Do you feel that they have been able to bring about closure
for the families of the victims?
12. Did the events of 1984, such as Operation Blue Star, Operation Woodrose and the
anti-Sikh pogroms, impact upon the way you viewed your own national identity?
13. What is/was your opinion of Sant Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale?
14. The famous Longowal-Rajiv Gandhi accord, despite seeming to address many of
the main points in the Anandpur Sahib Resolution, failed to get the backing of the
other Akali factions? Do you think that the inability of the Akalis to endorse this
accord was an opportunity missed?
Additional Questions for Khalistani Interviewees:
15. What is the main motive(s) for your support of the Khalistan concept?
16. Could you give an approximate percentage of the amount of Sikhs in the Punjab
that would welcome the creation of Khalistan as opposed to those that would prefer
to remain with India?
17. The Punjab is often referred to as the bread-basket of India. If Khalistan were
created what where would; first, the Sikh agriculturalists be able to find such a
market for its produce; and second, where would that leave the rest of India in
terms of its ability to feed its poor?
18. If Khalistan were to be achieved, where would its territorial boundaries lay? And
why?
19. How would you ensure the safety of the Sikhs and their gurdwaras outside Punjab
if Khalistan were created?
310
20. In the Punjab today, there are many Hindu and Muslim migrants from states such
as Bihar and UP. What would happen if the Sikh population in Khalistan becomes
a minority? Where would that leave the mandate for Khalistan?
21. It is generally accepted that thousands of human rights abuses were carried out
mainly against young Sikh males, many of whom were innocent and not involved
in armed conflict. Yet many of those within the Punjab police, now and then, are
Sikhs and many of them conducted crimes against their co-religionists during the
insurgency, so how can you ensure such people do not serve in any future
Khalistani police force?
311
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The Role of Refugees in the Rise of Ethno

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