The real issues confronting Indian history

With tiresome predictability, the appointment of the new Indian Council of Historical Research (ICHR) has been greeted in the media (and recently in the Lok Sabha) by the old refurbished charges: some members are ‘known to be close to the BJP or the RSS’ while others demand a Rama temple at Ayodhya; the ‘saffronisation’ of the institution is rampant, warn a few select ‘noted historians’. One of them announces doomsday: ‘The move will alter the very foundation of Indian history.’ And so on.

 We have heard it all before, indeed several times. With good reason, the authors of such charges are counting on the public’s short memory: after all, Arun Shourie’s landmark study, 'Eminent Historians: Their Technology, Their Line, Their Fraud', was published in 1998. It is still in print, though, for those who would like to (re)discover how Leftist historians manipulated ICHR, drawing funds year after year for non-existent or eternally delayed projects, occasionally plagiarising works submitted by others. Shourie’s exposure—entirely backed by official records—provoked a few self-righteous and contemptuous ripostes, but none of the manipulations he brought to light was discussed, much less disproved. The ‘eminent historians’ soon became ‘distinguished’ or ‘noted’ historians, and business went on as usual.  

The ‘reddenisation’—if we must play by the palette—of institutions, textbooks and curricula over several decades has led to a shrill polarisation of historical controversies. Whether it is the Aryan issue, the Saraswati river, the Ayodhya controversy, the brutality of Islamic invasions, the darker side of the colonial rule, the role of nationalism in the freedom movement, the cultural roots of Indian civilization, those who have dared challenge the politically correct notions of the day have been demonised as ‘Hindu nationalists’, ‘chauvinists’, ‘communalists’, etc. (here too, we have quite a colourful vocabulary). Yet among the best scholars leading such challenges we invariably find not ‘RSS ideologues’ but respected, mainstream Indian and Western academics, whose views our ‘noted historians’ have taken care never to discuss.

Because history perforce touches on issues of identity, culture, nationality, every country naturally has its share of ‘historical controversies’. A sign of mature intellectual life is the existence of academic and media platforms where diverging or even opposing perspectives can be debated through civilised exchanges. There are no such platforms in India; the mud-slinging we see instead is a sad reflection on the immaturity of our intellectual life. To the general public, it looks as if every Indian historian must be aligned with one of the two camps and there can be no scholarship except at the two ends of the political spectrum—a misconception encouraged by most of our sensation-hungry media. In reality, in a discipline dominated by Eurocentric, Marxist and post-modernist perspectives of India, there has been a growing and healthy trend to critique those models, question their validity in the Indian context, bring into play wider ranges of sources and data, and hear scholarly voices across the whole spectrum. This trend needs to be encouraged.

Other important issues confronting Indian history have been eclipsed by the high-decibel controversies. One of them is the neglect of India’s knowledge systems, which remain poorly researched and are kept out of most history books. It is all very well to ridicule crackpot theories about ancient aircraft, but why should we not bring to the student’s attention the genuine advances ancient India made in mathematics, astronomy, town planning, water management, agriculture or medicine (including surgery)? Why does no Indian university offer a degree or PhD programme in history of science? With very few exceptions, our historians have ignored this wealth of intellectual and material developments, yet claim to give us a faithful picture of India—an India which, they would have us believe, failed to produce any useful knowledge. But such was precisely the assertion of nineteenth-century colonial historians! 

Epigraphy and manuscriptology are languishing too: in a generation or two, no one in India will be able to read any of the millions of manuscripts dealing with every topic under the tropical sun. In fact, history as an academic discipline in India is in poor health: few talented students are drawn to it, the average competence of teachers at school or college is unsatisfactory, and there are major problems with both content and pedagogy. It is not just the rote learning plaguing most of our schooling; it is also the undue emphasis on dates, kings, wars and dynasties rather than on a genuine understanding of India’s past, society and culture. Uninspiring and often outdated textbooks haven’t helped; in my view, education must move away from textbook-centric pedagogy to shift the focus back on the teacher. It is for her or him to keep abreast of recent developments, find innovative methods of teaching, offer multiple viewpoints and perspectives, use old ballads, dramas, multimedia material (including films and games), involve the students in mini research projects or take them on a trip to some museum, monument or heritage site. This is the biggest challenge facing history in India: to show students what a fascinating field it is—because history is ultimately about understanding ourselves.

As for the new ICHR, let it be judged on its performance. If it promotes poor scholarship or dubious projects solely aimed at glorifying ancient India, it will deserve censure; if it can take a few steps, however modest, towards rescuing the discipline from its current decay—and from ideologies of all hues—it will have outshined its predecessors.

Michel Danino is the author of The Lost River: On the Trail of the Sarasvati (Penguin India, 2010), guest professor at IIT Gandhinagar and member of  ICHR.