India's freedom struggle was no stranger to revolutionaries who used violent methods in their fight against the British, so the country's sympathies should lie with the colonised, not the coloniser, writes Shreya Bansal.
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INDIA is amongst the handful of countries that have been former colonies that paradoxically continue to support the colonial–apartheid regime of Israel in Palestine even as the genocide enters its second year.
For a country that harbours such strong nationalist sentiments and even to date annually recalls the 200 years of an oppressive regime that Indians were subjected to under various colonial powers, it is profoundly perplexing that segments of our society would extend support to a system of which we ourselves have been a victim.
This raises critical questions: What motivates this support, and does it hold any substantive merit?
From the 1857 Mutiny to the Bhadralok Dacoits in West Bengal, Indian revolutionaries shed their own blood and that of the colonisers in the relentless pursuit of freedom. How, then, can a nation founded on violent resistance fail to recognise the struggles of Gaza in its quest for liberation from the settler-colonialist regime of Israel? This disconnection can only be attributed to a lack of engagement with our own history.
“Those who advocate for Israel tend to express disdain for Gandhi while simultaneously pushing for the inclusion of more militant leaders in discussions surrounding India's quest for independence.
In this article, I will intentionally refrain from delving into the pervasive Islamophobic sentiments that have emerged under the current government, which have, without a doubt, led many Indians to a moral nadir where they condone acts of genocide as long as the victims are Muslims.
The reason behind this decision stems from a desire to refrain from contributing to a polarised discourse that often sidesteps the complexity of these issues. Additionally, addressing these narratives could inadvertently legitimise divisive rhetoric or lead to the oversimplification of viewpoints.
Furthermore, I will also refrain from engaging in the narrative that seeks to justify India's support for Israel by citing a long-standing political alliance and historical ties. This line of reasoning has similarly been employed to rationalise India's support for Russia during its invasion of Ukraine, reflecting a broader trend of maintaining diplomatic relations based on strategic partnerships rather than specific ethical considerations.
To their credit, these supporters are not hypocritical in their choices; they consistently back the occupying powers in these situations. However, their credibility may be better put to the test when it comes to choosing between India and China, particularly regarding China's occupation of Aksai Chin since the 1962 war. But all that for another time.
Instead, my focus will be on the often-overlooked dimensions of India's freedom struggle. Many contemporary narratives emphasise the non-violent and non-cooperation movements led by figures such as M.K. Gandhi.
Surprisingly, those who advocate for Israel tend to express disdain for Gandhi while simultaneously pushing for the inclusion of more militant leaders in discussions surrounding India's quest for independence and at the same time completely fail to draw parallels between the violent resistance in Gaza growing out of similar circumstances.
The ascendancy of Gandhi's non-violent approach has, conveniently for the colonial powers, served to marginalise discussions about more radical resistance movements globally. The prevailing narrative posits that freedom was solely achieved through non-violent means, thus neglecting the significant contributions of various resistance groups across the nation— many of whom were labelled as 'terrorists' by colonial authorities.
By highlighting the history of armed resistance in India against British colonial rule, I draw parallels to the Palestinian struggle against Israeli occupation, emphasising that the fight for liberation, whether in India or Palestine demands recognition and solidarity from a nation that has experienced its own colonial traumas.
The 1857 Mutiny stands as a stark reminder of the violent struggle against colonial oppression, eliciting extreme reactions from British authorities.
While the uprising is often depicted as a 'savage, indiscriminate and fanatical butchery', it was, in fact, a profound expression of resistance against the brutal regime of the East India Company.
The British response to the mutiny was marked by severe retribution, reflecting their fear of losing control over India. Widespread massacres, collective punishments, laying entire cities to waste, and the summary execution of suspected insurgents without regard to sex or age demonstrated the lengths to which the colonial power would go to maintain its dominion.
“The 1857 Mutiny stands as a stark reminder of the violent struggle against colonial oppression, an event that elicited extreme reactions from British authorities.
Amidst this turmoil, literary figure Charles Dickens— celebrated as a champion of the poor and an advocate for social reform— revealed a troubling ambivalence toward the Indian struggle.
In a letter to Angela Burdett-Coutts, dated October 4, 1857, Dickens wrote: "[I] should do my utmost to exterminate the race upon whom the stain of the late cruelties rested; and that I was there for that purpose and no other, and was now proceeding, with all convenient dispatch and merciful swiftness of execution, to blot it out of mankind and raze it off the face of the Earth."
Further, Dickens also called for the 'extermination' of the Indian race and approved the "mutilation of the wretched Hindoos who were punished by being blown from … English guns[s]".
Despite being distinguished for his social justice advocacy, Dickens aligned himself with the dominant public discourse favouring British colonialism.
In stark contrast, in 1857, Ernest Jones, spurred by debates surrounding Sir Charles Wood's Government of India Bill, condemned the extortions of the East India Company and the pervasive exploitation of Indian peoples, foreshadowing Karl Marx's more widely recognised writings on the subject published in the New York Tribune in 1857.
Jones, who faced imprisonment for his seditious behaviour, took a keen interest in the events of 1857. Despite the British media constantly reporting on the 'savagery' of the Indians, giving bold exaggerated accounts of violence, Jones aligned himself firmly with Indians, refusing to fall for the propaganda. His writings continually justified the violent resistance against the oppressive colonial regime.
In his writings, Jones articulated a vision of solidarity with the Indian rebels, framing their violent resistance against colonial oppression as inherently tied to broader questions of universal rights and justice.
Much like the recent claims of 40 beheaded babies, which ignited global hysteria and garnered widespread support for Israel only to be later debunked, the British routinely employed similar tactics during the Indian rebellion of 1857.
They manipulated narratives to portray Indians as savage animals, unworthy of compassion. For instance, in Times on August 25, 1857, it was reported: "They took 48 females, most of them girls from 10 to 14, many delicately nurtured ladies, violated them, and kept them for the base purposes of the heads of the insurrection for a whole week.
"At the end of that time, they made them strip themselves, and gave them up to the lowest of the people, to abuse in broad daylight in the streets of Delhi."
While the 1857 Mutiny was undoubtedly violent, the British propaganda machinery still resorted to misinformation and exaggerated accounts to fuel anti-Indian sentiment in order to justify brutal acts of violence which it coloured as reactionary.
“Amidst this turmoil, literary figure Charles Dickens— celebrated as a champion of the poor and an advocate for social reform— revealed a troubling ambivalence toward the Indian struggle.
Jones's poem, The Revolt of Hindostan, published in the wake of the mutiny, served as a prophetic acknowledgment of the uprising's significance. He foresaw the inevitable rebellion against British rule and stood firmly on the right side of history, supporting the Indian cause even as public opinion leaned toward hysteria and condemnation of the insurgents.
While Dickens faltered in his commitment to the oppressed, Jones exemplified the moral clarity that called for solidarity with those fighting for their rights.
In Bengal, on the other hand, there was a rise in both organised and unorganised violent resistance groups, with some members being as young as 13 years old. Bengali-language newspapers celebrated local freedom fighters who engaged in militant nationalism, such as Jatin Das, and the iconic trio of Benoy, Badal and Dinesh, whose assassination of British officials at the Writers' Building in 1930 was widely celebrated as an act committed in pursuit of independence from the occupation.
For British colonial officials, the acts of political violence in Bengal became a justification for repressive legislation, allowing them to pass laws that aimed to preempt and suppress future attacks by summarily detaining and even executing suspects. This resulted in the labelling of freedom fighters' actions as 'terrorism'.
The term 'Bhadralok Dacoits' was used by British officials to describe well-educated 'terrorists' in Bengal who engaged in political violence, such as assassinations, bomb attacks and armed robberies, to undermine British rule.
They were recruited from universities, trained in martial arts and revolutionary ideologies, and drew inspiration from global movements— from the French and American revolutions to the anti-colonial struggles in Ireland. To them, their actions were legitimate acts of resistance against an unjust occupation.
The British response to the revolutionary activities, deemed terrorist acts, in Bengal was swift, often suspending legal rights and even levelling entire villages as part of collective punishment for being suspected of harbouring the revolutionaries.
However, all acts of violence of the British against the Indians were viewed as acts committed in reaction to the violence perpetrated by the freedom fighters (read terrorists).
The revolutionary movement in Bengal was driven by a belief that violent resistance was not just a strategy but an imperative way to accelerate the freedom movement.
For many in Gaza, the use of armed resistance, despite its immense costs, is seen as a continuation of a broader struggle for self-determination, a way to assert their agency in the face of an overwhelmingly powerful adversary.
But an even more striking relation between both India and Palestine's struggle for freedom can be found through the historical exploration of a single man named Charles Tegart. In 1901, Tegart was enlisted and sent to Bengal where he quickly rose to the ranks and gained a reputation as an expert on 'counter-terrorism' because of how effective he was in quelling the Indian freedom movement.
“The term 'Bhadralok Dacoits' was used by British officials to describe well-educated 'terrorists' in Bengal who engaged in political violence.
Given his track record, Tegart was sent to Palestine in July 1938 (10 years before Israel was created) as the freedom movement in Palestine began gaining momentum. Here Tegart implemented policies similar to those he had employed in India, such as collective punishment, sanctioning fencing and brutal interrogation methods to crush the freedom movement. The remnants of which, in a much more brutal form, continue to be employed in Palestine by Israel today.
In this light, India's contemporary stance on the Israel–Palestine conflict reveals a troubling dissonance with its own legacy of anti-colonial struggle. India's alignment with Israel, a State condemned globally for its apartheid-like policies and acts of genocide against Palestinians, signals a moral and strategic shift that contradicts its foundational values.
The silence or passive endorsement of Israel by India suggests a selective amnesia, a wilful forgetting of its own past struggles for freedom. India's failure to acknowledge the parallels between the Palestinian quest for self-determination and its own history of anti-colonial struggle is not just hypocritical; it undermines the legacy of those who fought for India's independence.