most difficult situation that a responsible Government can have to
face. Of course, I am dependent upon information. But as I read it,
as I listen to serious Indian experts with large experience, it all
sounds estrangement and alienation even though it be no worse than
superficial. Now that is the problem that we have to deal with.
Gentlemen, I should very badly repay your kindness in asking me to
come among you to-night, if I were to attempt for a minute to analyse
or to prove all the conditions that have led to this state of things.
It would need hours and days. This is not, I think, the occasion, nor
the moment. Our first duty--the first duty of any Government--is to
keep order. But just remember this. It would be idle to deny, and I am
not sure that any of you gentlemen would deny, that there is at this
moment, and there has been for some little time past, and very likely
there will be for some time to come, a living movement in the mind of
the peoples for whom you are responsible. A living movement, and a
movement for what? A movement for objects which we ourselves have all
taught them to think desirable objects. And unless we somehow or other
can reconcile order with satisfaction of those ideas and aspirations,
gentlemen, the fault will not be theirs. It will be ours. It will mark
the breakdown of what has never yet broken down in any part of the
world--the breakdown of British statesmanship. That is what it will
do. Now I do not believe anybody--either in this room or out of this
room--believes that we can now enter upon an era of pure repression.
You cannot enter at this date and with English public opinion, mind
you, watching you, upon an era of pure repression, and I do not
believe really that anybody desires any such thing. I do not believe
so. Gentlemen, we have seen attempts, in the lifetime of some of us
here to-night, attempts in Continental Europe, to govern by pure
repression. Has one of them really succeeded? They have all failed.
There may be now and again a spurious semblance of success, but in
truth they have all failed. Whether we with our enormous power and
resolution should fail, I do not know. But I do not believe anybody
in this room representing so powerfully as you do dominant sentiments
that are not always felt in England--that in this room there is
anybody who is for an era of pure repression. Gentlemen, I would just
digress for a moment if I am not tiring you. ("Go on,") About the same
time as the transfer, about fifty years ago, of the Government of
India from the old East India Company to the Crown, another very
important step was taken, a step which I have often thought since
I have been concerned with the Government of India was far more
momentous, one almost deeper than the transfer to the Crown. And what
do you think that was? That was the first establishment--I think I
am right in my date--of Universities. We in this country are so
accustomed to look upon political changes as the only important
changes, that we very often forget such a change as the establishment
of Universities. And if any of you are inclined to prophesy, I should
like to read to you something that was written by that great and
famous man, Lord Macaulay, in the year 1836, long before the
Universities were thought of. What did he say? What a warning it is,
gentlemen. He wrote, in the year 1836:--"At the single town of Hooghly
1,400 boys are learning English. The effect of this education on the
Hindus is prodigious.... It is my firm belief that if our plans of
education are followed up, there will not be a single idolater among
the respectable classes in Bengal thirty years hence. And this will be
effected merely by the natural operation of knowledge and reflection."
Ah, gentlemen, the natural operation of knowledge and reflection
carries men of a different structure of mind, different beliefs,
different habits and customs of life--it carries them into strange and
unexpected paths. I am not going to embark you to-night upon these
vast controversies, but when we talk about education, are we not
getting very near the root of the case? Now to-night we are not in the
humour--I am sure you are not, I certainly am not--for philosophising.
Somebody is glad of it. I will tell you what I think of--as I have for
a good many months past--I think first of the burden of responsibility
weighing on the governing men at Calcutta and Simla and the other main
centres of power and of labour. We think of the anxieties of those in
India, and in England as well, who have relatives in remote places and
under conditions that are very familiar to you all. I have a great
admiration for the self-command, for the freedom from anything
like panic, which has hitherto marked the attitude of the European
population of Calcutta and some other places, and I confess I have
said to myself that if they had found here, in London, bombs in the
railway carriages, bombs under the Prime Minister's House, and so
forth, we should have had tremendous scare headlines and all the other
phenomena of excitement and panic. So far as I am informed, though
very serious in Calcutta--the feeling is serious, how could it be
anything else?--they have exercised the great and noble virtue, in all
ranks and classes, of self-command. Now the Government--if you will
allow me for a very few moments to say a word on behalf of the
Government, not here alone but at Simla--we and they, for after all we
are one--have been assailed for a certain want of courage and what is
called, often grossly miscalled, vigour.
We were told the other day--and this brings us to the root of
policy--that there had been a momentary flash of courage in the
Government, a momentary flash of courage when the Government of India
and we here assented to the deportation of two men, and it is made a
matter of complaint that they were released immediately. Well, they
were not released immediately, but after six or eight months--I forget
exactly how many months--of detention. They were there with no charge,
no trial, nor intention of bringing them to trial. How long were we to
keep them there? Not a day, I answer, nor one hour, after the specific
and particular mischief, with a view to which this drastic proceeding
was adopted, had abated. Specific mischief, mind you. I will not go
into that argument to-night: another day I will. I will only say one
thing. To strain the meaning and the spirit of an exceptional law like
the old Regulation of the year 1818 in such a fashion as this,
what would it do? Such a strain, pressed upon us in the perverse
imagination of headstrong men, is no better than a suggestion for
provoking lawless and criminal reprisals. ("No.") You may not agree
with me. You are kindly allowing me as your guest to say things with
which perhaps you do not agree. (Cries of "Go on.") After all, we
understand one another--we speak the same language, and I tell you
that a proceeding of that kind, indefinite detention, is a thing that
would not be endured in this country. (A voice of "Disorder.") Yes, if
there were great and clear connection between the detention and the
outbreak of disorder, certainly; but as the disorder had abated it
would have been intolerable for us to continue the incarceration.
Last Monday, what is called a Press Act, was passed by the Government
of India, in connection with, and simultaneously with, an Explosives
Act which ought to have been passed, I should think, twenty years ago.
What is the purport of the Press Act? I do not attempt to give it
in technical language. Where the Local Government finds a newspaper
article inciting to murder and violence, or resort to explosives for
the purposes of murder or violence, that Local Government may apply to
a Magistrate of a certain status to issue an order for the seizure of
the Press by which that incitement has been printed; and if the owner
of the Press feels himself aggrieved, he may within fifteen days ask
the High Court to reverse the order, and direct the restoration of the
Press. That is a statement of the law that has been passed in India,
and to which I do not doubt we shall give our assent. There has been
the usual outcry raised--usual in all these cases. Certain people say,
"Oh, you are too late." Others say, "You are too early." I will say to
you first of all, and to any other audience afterwards, that I have no
apology to make for being a party to the passing of this law now; and
I have no apology to make for not passing it before. I do not believe
in short cuts, and I believe that the Government in these difficult
circumstances is wise not to be in too great a hurry. I have no
apology to make for introducing executive action into what would
normally be a judicial process. Neither, on the other hand, have I any
apology to make for tempering executive action with judicial elements;
and I am very glad to say that an evening newspaper last night, which
is not of the politics to which I belong, entirely approves of that.
It says: "You must show that you are not afraid of referring your
semi-executive, semi-judicial action to the High Court." This Act
meddles with no criticism, however strong, of Government measures. It
discourages the advocacy of no practical policy, social, political, or
economic. Yet I see, to my great regret and astonishment, that this
Act is described as an Act for judging cases of seditious libel
without a Jury. It is contended by some--and I respect the
contention--that the Imperial Parliament ought to have been consulted
before this Act was passed, and ought to be consulted now. (Cries
of "No, no.") My veteran friends lived before the days of household
suffrage. Well, it is said that the voice of Parliament ought to
be heard in so grave a matter as this. But the principles of the
proposals were fully considered, as was quite right, not only by the
Secretary of State in Council, but by the Cabinet. It was a matter of
public urgency. I stand by it. But it is perfectly natural to ask:
Should the Imperial Parliament have no voice? I have directed the
Government of India to report to the Secretary of State all the
proceedings taken under this Act; and I undertake, as long as I hold
the office of Secretary of State, to present to Parliament from time
to time the reports of the proceedings taken under this somewhat
drastic Act.
When I am told that an Act of this kind is a restriction on the
freedom of the Press, I do not accept it for a moment. I do not
believe that there is a man in England who is more jealous of the
freedom of the Press than I am. But let us see what we mean. It is
said, "Oh, these incendiary articles"--for they are incendiary and
murderous--"are mere froth." Yes, they are froth; but they are
froth stained with bloodshed. When you have men admitting that they
deliberately write these articles and promote these newspapers with
a view of furthering murderous action, to talk of the freedom of the
Press in connection with that is wicked moonshine. We have now got a
very Radical House of Commons. So much, the better for you. If I were
still a member of the House of Commons, I should not mind for a moment
going down to the House--and I am sure that my colleagues will not
mind--to say that when you find these articles on the avowal of those
concerned, expressly designed to promote murderous action, and when
you find as a fact that murderous action has come about, it is
moonshine to talk of the freedom of the Press. There is no use in
indulging in heroics. They are not wanted. But an incendiary article
is part and parcel of the murderous act. You may put picric acid in
the ink and pen, just as much as in any steel bomb. I have one or two
extracts here with which I will not trouble you. But when I am
told that we should recognise it as one of the chief aims of good
Government that there may be as much public discussion as possible, I
read that sentence with proper edification; and then I turn to what I
had telegraphed for from India--extracts from _Yugantar_. To talk of
public discussion in connection with mischief of that kind is really
pushing things intolerably far.
I will not be in a hurry to believe that there is not a great body
in India of reasonable people, not only among the quiet, humble,
law-abiding classes, but among the educated classes. I do not care
what they call themselves, or what organisation they may form
themselves into. But I will not be in a hurry to believe that there
are no such people and that we can never depend on them. When we
believe this--that we have no body of organised, reasonable people
on our side in India--when you gentlemen who know the country, say
this--then I say that, on the day when we believe that, we shall
be confronted with as awkward, as embarrassing, and as hazardous a
situation as has ever confronted the rulers of any of the most complex
and gigantic States in human history. I am confident that if the
crisis comes, it will find us ready, but let us keep our minds clear
in advance. There have been many dark and ugly moments--see gentlemen
around me who have gone through dark and ugly dates--in our relations
with India before now. We have a clouded moment before us now. We
shall get through it--but only with self-command and without any
quackery or cant whether it be the quackery of blind violence
disguised as love of order, or the cant of unsound and misapplied
sentiment, divorced from knowledge and untouched by any cool
consideration of the facts.
V
ON PROPOSED REFORMS
(HOUSE OF LORDS. DECEMBER 17, 1908)
I feel that I owe a very sincere apology to the House for the
disturbance in the business arrangements of the House, of which I have
been the cause, though the innocent cause. It has been said that in
the delays in bringing forward this subject, I have been anxious to
burke discussion. That is not in the least true. The reasons that made
it seem desirable to me that the discussion on this most important and
far-reaching range of topics should be postponed, were--I believe the
House will agree with me--reasons of common sense. In the first place,
discussion without anybody having seen the Papers to be discussed,
would evidently have been ineffective. In the second place it would
have been impossible to discuss those Papers with good effect--the
Papers that I am going this afternoon to present to Parliament--until
we know, at all events in some degree, what their reception has been
in the country most immediately concerned. And then thirdly, my
Lords, I cannot but apprehend that discussion here--I mean in
Parliament--would be calculated to prejudice the reception in India
of the proposals that His Majesty's Government, in concert with the
Government of India, are now making. My Lords, I submit those are
three very essential reasons why discussion in my view, and I hope
in the view of this House, was to be deprecated. This afternoon your
Lordships will be presented with a very modest Blue-book of 100 or 150
pages, but I should like to promise noble Lords that to-morrow morning
there will be ready for them a series of Papers on the same subject,
of a size so enormous that the most voracious or even carnivorous
appetite for Blue-books will have ample food for augmenting the joys
of the Christmas holidays.
The observations that I shall ask your Lordships to allow me to make,
are the opening of a very important chapter in the history of the
relations of Great Britain and India; and I shall ask the indulgence
of the House if I take a little time, not so much in dissecting the
contents of the Papers, which the House will be able to do for itself
by and by, as in indicating the general spirit that animates His
Majesty's Government here, and my noble friend the Governor-General,
in making the proposals that I shall in a moment describe. I suppose,
like other Secretaries of State for India, I found my first, idea
was to have what they used to have in the old days--a Parliamentary
Committee to inquire into Indian Government. I see that a predecessor
of mine in the India Office, Lord Randolph Churchill--he was there for
too short a time--in 1885 had very strongly conceived that idea. On
the whole I think there is a great deal at the present day to be said
against it.
Therefore what we have done was in concert with the Government of
India, first to open a chapter of constitutional reform, of which I
will speak in a moment, and next to appoint a Royal Commission to
inquire into the internal relations between the
Government of India and all its subordinate and co-ordinate parts.
That Commission will report, I believe, in February or March
next,--February, I hope,--and that again will involve the Government
of India and the India Office in Whitehall in pretty laborious and
careful inquiries. It cannot be expected--and it ought not to be
expected--that an Act passed as the organic Act of 1858 was passed,
amidst intense excitement and most disturbing circumstances, should
have been in existence for half a century without disclosing flaws
and imperfections, or that its operations would not be the better for
supervision, or incapable of improvement.
I spoke of delay in these observations, and unfortunately delay has
not made the skies any brighter. But, my Lords, do not let us make
the Indian sky cloudier than it really is. Do not let us consider the
clouds to be darker than they really are. Let me invite your Lordships
to look at the formidable difficulties that now encumber us in India,
with a due sense of proportion.
What is the state of things as it appears to persons of authority and
of ample knowledge in India? One very important and well-known friend
of mine in India says this--
"The anarchists are few, but, on the other hand, they are apparently
prepared to go any length and to run any risk. It must also be borne
in mind that the ordinary man or lad in India has not too much
courage, and that the loyal are terrorised by the ruthless
extremists."
It is a curious incident that on the very day before the attempt to
assassinate Sir Andrew Fraser was made, he had a reception in the
college where the would-be assassin was educated, and his reception
was of the most enthusiastic and spontaneous kind. I only mention
that, to show the curious and subtle atmosphere in which things now
are at Calcutta. I will not dwell on that, because although I have a
mass of material, this is not the occasion for developing it. I will
only add this from a correspondent of great authority--
"There is no fear of anything in the nature of a rising, but if
murders continue, a general panic may arise and greatly increase
the danger of the situation. We cannot hope that any machinery will
completely stop outrages at once. We must be prepared to meet them.
There are growing indications that the native population itself is
alarmed, and that we shall have the strong support of native public
opinion."
The view of important persons in the Government of India is that in
substance the position of our Government in India is as sound and as
well-founded as it has ever been.
I shall be asked, has not the Government of India been obliged to pass
a measure introducing pretty drastic machinery? That is quite
true, and I, for one, have no fault whatever to find with them for
introducing such machinery and for taking that step. On the contrary,
my Lords, I wholly approve, and I share, of course, to the full the
responsibility for it. I understand that I am exposed to some obloquy
on this account--I am charged with inconsistency. That is a matter
on which I am very well able to take care of myself, and I should be
ashamed to detain your Lordships for one single moment in arguing
about it. Quite early after my coming to the India Office, pressure
was put on me to repeal the Regulation of 1818, under which men are
now being summarily detained without trial and without charge,
and without intention to try or to charge. That, of course, is a
tremendous power to place in the hands of an Executive Government. But
I said to myself then, and I say now, that I decline to take out of
the hands of the Government of India any weapon that they have got, in
circumstances so formidable, so obscure, and so impenetrable as are
the circumstances that surround British Government in India.
There are two paths of folly in these matters. One is to regard all
Indian matters, Indian procedure and Indian policy, as if it were
Great Britain or Ireland, and to insist that all the robes and apparel
that suit Great Britain or Ireland must necessarily suit India. The
other is to think that all you have got to do is what I see suggested,
to my amazement, in English print--to blow a certain number of men
from guns, and then your business will be done. Either of these paths
of folly leads to as great disaster as the other. I would like to
say this about the Summary Jurisdiction Bill--I have no illusions
whatever. I do not ignore, and I do not believe that Lord Lansdowne
opposite, or anyone else can ignore, the frightful risks involved in
transferring in any form or degree what should be the ordinary power
under the law, to arbitrary personal discretion. I am alive, too, to
the temptation under summary procedure of various kinds, to the danger
of mistaking a headstrong exercise of force for energy. Again, I do
not for an instant forget, and I hope those who so loudly applaud
legislation of this kind do not forget, the tremendous price that you
pay for all operations of this sort in the reaction and the excitement
that they provoke. If there is a man who knows all these drawbacks
I think I am he. But there are situations in which a responsible
Government is compelled to run these risks and to pay this possible
price, however high it may appear to be.
It is like war, a hateful thing, from which, however, some of the most
ardent lovers of peace, and some of those rulers of the world whose
names the most ardent lovers of peace most honour and revere--it is
one of the things from which these men have not shrunk. The only
question for us is whether there is such a situation in India to-day
as to warrant the passing of the Act the other day, and to justify
resort to the Regulation of 1818. I cannot imagine anybody reading the
speeches--especially the unexaggerated remarks of the Viceroy--and the
list of crimes perpetrated, and attempted, that were read out last
Friday in Calcutta--I cannot imagine that anybody reading that list
and thinking what they stand for, would doubt for a single moment that
summary procedure of some kind or another was justified and called
for. I discern a tendency to criticise this legislation on grounds
that strike me as extraordinary. After all, it is not our fault that
we have had to bring in this measure. You must protect the lives of
your officers. You must protect peaceful and harmless people, both
Indian and European, from the blood-stained havoc of anarchic
conspiracy. We deplore the necessity, but we are bound to face the
facts. I myself recognise this necessity with infinite regret, and
with something, perhaps, rather deeper than regret. But it is not
the Government, either here or in India, who are the authors of this
necessity, and I should not at all mind, if it is not impertinent and
unbecoming in me to say so, standing up in another place and saying
exactly what I say here, that I approve of these proceedings and will
do my best to support the Government of India.
Now a very important question arises, for which I would for a moment
ask the close attention of your Lordships, because I am sure that both
here and elsewhere it will be argued that the necessity, and the facts
that caused the necessity, of bringing forward strong repressive
machinery should arrest our policy of reforms. That has been stated,
and I dare say many people will assent to it. Well, the Government of
India and myself have from the very first beginning of this unsettled
state of things, never varied in our determination to persevere in the
policy of reform.
I put two plain questions to your Lordships. I am sick of all the
retrograde commonplaces about the weakness of concession to violence
and so on. Persevering in our plan of reform is not a concession to
violence. Reforms that we have publicly announced, adopted, and worked
out for more than two years--how is it a concession to violence, to
persist in those reforms? It is simply standing to your guns. A number
of gentlemen, of whom I wish to speak with all respect, addressed a
very courteous letter to me the other day that appeared in the public
prints, exhorting me to remember that Oriental countries inevitably
and invariably interpret kindness as fear. I do not believe it. The
Founder of Christianity arose in an Oriental country, and when I am
told that Orientals always mistake kindness for fear, I must repeat
that I do not believe it, any more than I believe the stranger saying
of Carlyle, that after all the fundamental question between any two
human beings is--Can I kill thee, or canst thou kill me? I do not
agree that any organised society has ever subsisted upon either of
those principles, or that brutality is always present as a fundamental
postulate in the relations between rulers and ruled.