On August 21st 1945 the viceroy announced that elections would be held that Winter to the Central and Provincial Legislative Assemblies. They were to precede the convention of a constitution-making body for British India. The Muslim League had to succeed in this crucial test if its popular support of its demand for Pakistan was to be credible. In particular it had to succeed in the Punjab as there could be no Pakistan without that province. But in the Punjab's last elections held in 1937 the League had fared disastrously. It had put forward a mere seven candidates for the 85 Muslim seats and only two had been successful. In the 1946 elections the League won 75 of the total Muslim seats. This improvement in its performance which had momentous implications for the future for the subcontinent requires explanation.

Among the dominant themes of world history during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have been the imperialism of the west and the nationalism of its colonial subjects. Nowhere were these themes developed more spectacularly than in South Asia; its history quite naturally came to be viewed as a gigantic clash between these two large forces. The subject then was held together by a set of assumptions about the imperialism of the British and the reactions of the Indians against it. That imperialism, so it was thought, had engineered great effects on the territories where it ruled. Those who held the power could make the policy, and they could see that it became the practice. Sometimes that policy might be formulated ineptly or might fall on stony ground or even smash against the hard facts of colonial life. But for good or ill, imperial policy seemed to be the main force affecting colonial conditions. It emerged from an identifiable source, the official mind of Whitehall or the contrivances of pro-consuls; and so the study of policy-making made a framework for investigations into colonial history.

This paper is a critique of popular and academic assumptions about the Muslim ‘community’ and Islamist organizations, especially in the context of displacement and reconstruction after the 2002 riots in Ahmedabad, western India. It explores the internal politics of Jamaat-led organizations and the engagement of survivors with ideas of reform and piety. Contesting contemporary understandings of reformist Jamaats, I argue that the growing influence of the latter organizations had little co-relation with their resettlement plans and policies. The reconstruction patterns were more closely linked to the history of labour migration to the city, and the subsequent movement of violence-affected people from the mill areas to larger Muslim ghettoes. My ethnography shows how the survivors strategically engaged with reform initiatives and negotiated with local Islamist organizations for ‘safe housing’. By illustrating certain ambiguities within the everyday practices of Islam, my paper also problematizes notions of ‘piety’ and ‘agency’, primarily after people's experiences of communal violence.

The history of composite religious cultures in India has over recent decades attracted much more consistent attention than the history of syncretic political and intellectual cultures. During the 1970s and 1980s, when the study of pre-colonial India drew greater numbers of scholars than has been the case more recently, a number of historians of the Mughal north concerned themselves with the means by which Akbar and his political allies were able to draw into imperial service a very disparate range of ethnic groups—Irani, Turani, Afghan, Rajput, Indian Muslim, high-caste Hindu scribalists—and to generate for them a new corporate and inclusivist ideology of service to emperor and state. John Richards has described how a powerful dynastic ideology, formulated by Akbar's close friend and servant Abu'l Fazl in his monumental history of the empire the Akbar-Nāma, and given dramatic public expression in the ceremonial of the imperial court, glorified Akbar as the living embodiment of the Empire itself, and focus for the direct personal devotion of the imperial nobility. Stephen Blake has drawn out the importance of patrimonial themes in the techniques which Akbar and his successors devised to maintain the sense of a personal familial bond between the emperor and his servants. Historians of Mughal administration such as M. Athar Ali have explored the ways in which the systematisation of mansab grants and appointments to offices under Akbar provided a common framework within which imperial servants from different backgrounds could seek advancement. With a different emphasis again, Mughal art historians have drawn attention to Akbar's intense interest in the power of images as a means of communicating new understandings of the nature of kingship and its place in the natural and social worlds, particularly through the dazzling illustrations for the Akbar-Nāma produced in Akbar's imperial atelier. S.A.A. Rizvi and Peter Hardy have focussed on the role of Abu'l Fazl in helping to project, through the massive illuminated history of his Akbar-Nāma, a new and more inclusive style of rulership for Akbar, which drew on sufi and medieval ishrāqī theories of the divine illumination of kingship. This presented Akbar as insān-i kāmil, ‘the perfect man’, whose inner virtues of justice, self-control and renunciation of worldly attachments enabled him to attain the divine blessing of sulh-i kull, an attitude of universal concord and toleration.

This article studies corruption in India through an ethnographic elaboration of practices that are colloquially discussed as the ‘eating of money’ (paisa khana) in northern India. It examines both the discourse and practice of eating money in the specific context of the implementation of the National Rural Employment Guarantee Act, 2005 (NREGA). The article works through two central paradoxes that emerge in the study of corruption and the state. The first paradox relates to the corruption–transparency dyad. The ethnography presented shows clearly that the difficulties in the implementation of NREGA arose directly out of the transparency requirements of the statute, which were impeding the traditional eating of money. Instead of corruption being the villain it turns out that, in this particular context, it was its categorical Other—transparency—that was to blame. The second and related paradox emerges from an ethnographic examination of the processes and things through which development performance, corruption, and transparency are established and adjudged in the contemporary Indian state. Corrupt state practices and transparent state functioning are authoritatively proclaimed through an assessment of evidence—material proof in the form of paper—that is constructed by the Indian state itself. The push for transparency in India at the moment is not only leading to an excessive focus on the production of these paper truths but, more dangerously, is also deflecting attention away from what is described as the ‘real’ (asli) life of welfare programmes. Ultimately, this article contends that we need to eschew treating corruption as an explanatory trope for the failure of development in India. Instead of devising ever-more punitive auditing regimes to stem the leakages of the Indian state, this work suggests that we need a clearer understanding of what the state really is; how—and through which material substances—it functions and demonstrates evidence of its accomplishments.

A Great deal has been written about the Chinese state, but we still know very little about the common people, particularly peasants. How did they live? How did they found their communities? How did their socioeconomic status and property rights change over time. During the 1920s, 1930s and early 1940s, China's rural society and economy became the object of intense investigation by Chinese and foreign researchers. From this period dates our present, conventional wisdom of how rural communities were structured and had evolved since the nineteenth century.

In this paper, historical analysis and qualitative fieldwork are combined to question the belief that recent efforts in Kerala to induct women into local governance and mobilize poor women into self-help groups implies continuity with the earlier history of women's mobility into the spaces of paid work and politics. For a longer view, the histories of gender-coding of spaces and of women's mobility into paid work and politics are examined. In the twentieth century, while the subversive potential of paid work was contained through casting it within ‘feminine terms’, politics was unquestionably ‘unfeminine space’. However, recent efforts have not advanced women's mobility in any simple sense. The subversive potential of women's mobility towards work in self-help groups is still limited. In local governance, unlike the experience of an earlier generation of women, the ability to conform to norms of elite femininity now appears to be a valuable resource.

In 1975 the British General Medical Council ceased to recognize Indian medical degrees as sufficient qualification for practice as a doctor in Britain. For several years previously the G.M.C. had refused to grant automatic recognition to the degrees of the new Indian medical colleges, and this had soured relationships between the G.M.C. and its Indian counterpart, the Medical Council of India. In retaliation for the British move, the M.C.I. ceased to recognize British medical degrees, and higher qualifications from Britain awarded after 1976 would not be accepted from candidates for promotion in medical colleges and other public sector jobs. This controversy was not as novel as recent commentators have supposed. Indian medical degrees had been refused recognition once before—in 1930—and the issue of G.M.C. recongnition had been at the heart of a dispute between the Indian medical colleges and the British medical authorities which had raged from the end of the First World War to the eve of the Second.

One of the paradoxes of the history of Islam in the twentieth century is that many of the first Muslim socialists were men who at earlier stages in their lives had been devout Muslims, often passionately involved in the fate of Islam throughout the world. In Russia, socialists emerged from various silsila of the Naqshbandi sufi order, most notably the Vaisites of Kazan who fought alongside workers and soldiers in 1917 and 1918. In Indonesia, many sufi shaikhs became Communist party activitsts in the midst of the Sarekat Islam's great pan-Islamic protest of the early 1920S.In India, Muslim socialists came from those who, concerned to defend Islam wherever it was threatened and in particular the institution of the Khilafat, had come to oppose their British masters. These champions of Islam sought help against the British from Muslims outside India; they supported Britain's enemies. A few actually left India in order to join other Muslims in their fight against the British. Their experiences in Afghanistan and Central Asia brought disillusionment. They discovered that others did not share their faith in the brotherhood of Islam; they began to consider other ideologies. Some were convinced by the Bolsheviks, who supported Muslim peoples and opposed the imperialism of the West, that socialism might offer the key to success in their struggle against the British. In the process they discovered similarities between Islamic and Bolshevik ideology, which eased their transition to socialism.

Since the end of World War II the study of Southeast Asia has changed unrecognizably. The often bitter end of colonialism caused a sharp break with older scholarly traditions, and their tendency to see Southeast Asia as a receptacle for external influences—first Indian, Persian, Islamic or Chinese, later European. The greatest gain over the past forty years has probably been a much increased sensitivity to the cultural distinctiveness of Southeast Asia both as a whole and in its parts. If there has been a loss, on the other hand, it has been the failure of economic history to advance beyond the work of the generation of Furnivall, van Leur, Schrieke and Boeke. Perhaps because economic factors were difficult to disentangle from external factors they were seen by very few Southeast Asianists as the major challenge.

The ethnocentric and racialist overtones of the Victorian empire have long been acknowledged. Most work in this field has generally centred on the mid to late nineteenth century and, by emphasizing the intellectual and cultural currents in domestic society, has focused our attention on the metropole. This reveals only part of the equation; British attitudes towards the outside world arose from a complex matrix of ideas, assumptions and contacts that linked the metropole and colonial environments. In order to understand more fully British responses to non-European societies, and the impact these had on imperial developments, this paper will examine the Bengal army in the 1820s and demonstrate that it was during this period, and under this institution, that many of the assumptions were established under which the later Raj would operate. Of great importance were experiences in the Burma War (1824–26) and the simultaneous mutiny at Barrackpore which, by bringing to the surface doubts about the loyalty and reliability of the Bengal army, hastened a transition from an army modelled on caste lines to one that rested principally on race. This transformation from a caste-based army to an army of martial races was not fully completed, although the foundations were laid, in the years before the Indian Mutiny of 1857, largely because even those who rejected Bengal's dependence upon the highest castes could not bring themselves to argue for the recruitment of the lowest castes no matter what ‘race’ they were drawn from.

Readers in the historiography of colonial south India have every reason to feel puzzled by the answers available to even the most straightforward of questions. Was the colonial conquest achieved through the imposition of ‘superior’ European arms, technology and ideology or was it more in the nature of an internal subversion of the pre-existing Indian state system? Did British rule fundamentally alter the structures of South Indian society or did it rest lightly on top of pre-existing structures and serve to sustain established elites? Did it undermine the hold of ‘indigenous’ cultures on society or did it merely scratch their surface or even did it promote their revival?

This paper assesses the patterns of financing of political parties and elections in Malaysia. The poor regulation of the activities of parties and of all forms of political elections has contributed to allegations of covert funding of politicians, from both Malaysian and foreign sources. Since parties have grossly unequal access to funds, this has led to unfairness in federal and state elections. This paper also deals with two fundamental issues in the financing of politics. First, Malaysia is one of very few countries where parties own corporate enterprises, a trend known as ‘political business’. Second, money-based factionalism, known as ‘money politics’, is threatening the existence of parties and undermining public confidence in government leaders. Party factionalism is based not on ideological differences but on which political leader has the greatest capacity to distribute funds to capture grassroots-level support. Two core issues contribute to the extensive monetization of politics. First, existing disclosure requirements do not adequately restrict the covert funding of politics or ensure electoral fair play. Second, public institutions that oversee electoral competition are not sufficiently autonomous to act without favour. Finally, this paper reviews the levels of transparency built into current legislation, the pattern of financing of parties and electoral campaigns, and the relevant regulatory bodies’ institutional capacity to ensure fairness and accountability during elections. The paper proposes legislative and institutional reforms to ensure electoral fairness, within and between parties.

The present paper seeks ‘to explore the nature of Indian secularism, the difficulties it has run into, and the ways in which it may be revised’. This is a large undertaking for a short text, originally written as public lecture, particularly because the issues posed do nopt readily translate into plain questions. The most that I can hope to do is to raise some doubts and make a few suggestions for rethinking the issues involved.

As Tak-Wing Ngo has argued, the ‘dominant’ view of colonial rule in Hong Kong is one of a state which governed through ‘a deliberate policy of indirect rule—a combination of economic laissez-faire and political non-intervention’. It depicts a government which was disengaged from the population, preferring to see the colony as a trading opportunity, whilst leaving the condition of the peoples it held sway over to the philanthropy and humanitarianism of the colony's Chinese elites. This view of British rule was even supported by the primary representative of the imperial state when Sir David Trench admitted in 1970 that social policy, in the sense of responding to the needs of the populace, only began in the colony in 1953. But as Tak-Wing Ngo has argued, these ‘established narratives’ of Hong Kong's colonial history need to be reassessed and a more nuanced approach adopted to reveal the complexity of even Hong Kong's seemingly simple ‘colonial state-society’ relations.

The President of the United States of America and the Prime Minister, Mr Churchill, representing His Majesty's Government in the United Kingdom … respect the right of all people to choose the form of government under which they will live, and they wish to see sovereign rights restored to those who have been forcibly deprived of them.

In this article, we compare two kinds of public authority under conditions of civil war. We study two villages in eastern Sri Lanka, both of which came under LTTE rule during the 1990s and 2000s. The first case study describes a rural development society, which was co-opted by the LTTE to rule the village. The second describes the leaders of a Hindu temple, who defied LTTE attempts to settle temple-related conflicts. Conceptually, we draw on the notion of the public sphere as a space of encounter between the rulers and the ruled. This perspective helps us come to grips with the convoluted political landscape of war. Our two case studies suggest that public authority and sovereignty are mutually constituted. We argue that both forms of power are reworked in the encounter with the public sphere. A sovereign aspirant like the LTTE does not simply impose itself on society, it encroaches on it. This involves contingent efforts of reigning in other forms of public authority, some of which are more defiant than others. Conversely, public authority not only derives validity from sovereign endorsement, but from contestations around sovereignty as well.

This essay examines the Indias' political leadership's romantic engagement with the idea of developmental planning in post-colonial India between 1947 and 1960. It looks at the experience of planning in India between 1947 and 1960. It explores some of the early ideas about developmental planning and the setting up of the Planning Commission in March 1950. Although there was widespread acceptance of the need for planning there was little consensus on the kind of planning that was required, or how it should be carried out. This essay examines attempts, which were made to institutionalise the planning idea. It looks at the heady ascent of the Planning Commission as the pre-eminent economic decision-making body in Independent India and the debates and contentions that took place in the early years of its formation. It argues that the 1956 foreign exchange crisis marked a climactic moment for planning. Thereafter, as far as economic decision-making was concerned, the locus of power shifted from the Planning Commission to other governmental agencies and the developmental planning process itself came to be over-shadowed by pragmatic economic management pursued by official agencies. Thus, in overall terms, developmental planning failed to establish strong institutional foundations in independent India and, in all this, the experience of the 1950s was formative.

There are no reliable figures to help us measure the volume of charitable donations in South Asia but, according to the 2014 World Giving Index, Sri Lanka is ranked ninth in the world for the charitable efforts of its citizens, while other South Asian countries figure in the top 75 out of 135 countries surveyed. According to the same index, India comes first in the world for the overall number of people donating money to charities and volunteering for social causes; Pakistan is ranked sixth for the number of charitable donations; India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh are within the top ten countries for the number of people who have ‘helped a stranger’ in the 12 months prior to the survey. According to a 2001 survey by the Sampradaan Centre for Indian Philanthropy, among members of the A–C socio-economic classes, 96 per cent of respondents donated annually an average of Rs 1,420. The total amount donated was Rs 16.16 billion. Two surveys conducted in West Bengal and Sri Lanka suggest that South Asians across the social spectrum contribute readily to charity.

This paper situates the economic performance of independent India in historical perspective to evaluate the past and reflect on the future. It shows that the turning point in economic growth was circa 1951 in the long twentieth century and circa 1980 in India since independence. Thus, it is not possible to attribute the turnaround in India's performance to economic liberalization beginning 1991. During the period 1950–1980, economic growth in India was respectable, for it was a radical departure from the past and no worse than the performance of most countries. During the period 1980–2005, economic growth in India was impressive, indeed much better than in most countries. The real failure in both these periods was India's inability to transform this growth into well-being for all its people. And India's unfinished journey in development cannot be complete as long as poverty, deprivation and exclusion persist. Even so, with correctives, it should be possible to reach the destination.