London: C. Hurst & Co. Ltd., 2023. US$32.00, paper. ISBN 9781805260547.
In the widely circulated compendium of his speeches and writing, Bunch of Thoughts, M. S. Golwalkar discusses the story behind the naming of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), for which he served as the second sarsanghchalak (head/president). At the time of its inception, some wondered as to why the organization, which from its very inception championed the cause of Hindutva (political Hindu-ness), did not christen itself as the Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh? Golwalkar explains that for the Hindu nationalists, “the word ‘Rashtriya’ [nationalist] naturally means ‘Hindu.’” If they were to use the word Hindu, he reasoned, it would have suggested that Hindus considered themselves only one of the many communities of India and thus would not assume their “natural status” as the true nationals of the country.
What then becomes of Hindu nationalism in a scenario where Hindus can no longer claim to be the primus inter pares? The answer to this is provided by Edward Anderson in his meticulously researched book Hindu Nationalism in the Indian Diaspora, a book that charts the journey of Hindutva in a territorial landscape where Hindus not only find themselves a numerical minority, but also deprived of their claims of being the autochthonous inhabitants of the land. The primary focus of Anderson’s analysis is the United Kingdom, but it also takes seriously the East African “route” of many of the Hindu nationalist propagandists who subsequently became active in the UK. The double dislocation faced by these multi-generational émigrés—first from India, and then East Africa—provides the crucial context to understand how their tight kinship networks, perceived victimhood, and evolving religious practices coalesced in the contingent circumstances of postwar UK. Put simply, there was nothing inevitable in the growth in popularity of Hindu nationalism among the Indian diaspora(s).
A central attack of the book appears to be on Benedict Anderson’s influential thesis of “long distance nationalism” as an explanatory framework to explain the prevalence of Hindu nationalism in the Indian diaspora based in countries like the UK and the US. Edward Anderson is insistent that “[d]iasporic Hindutva is not simply ‘expatriate nationalism’” (23). The book certainly takes note of the continuous support and patronage provided by Hindu nationalist ideologues and politicians in India to their ideological brethren overseas, especially in the early years. But if organizational mimesis is one part of how Hindutva expanded outside India, this is equally a story of creative adaptation and divergence. Not only do traditional roles of the pracharak and vistarak evolve in the new foreign terrain, the conduct of shakhas itself undergoes transformation. Sartorial preferences of the swayamsevaks, mixed-gender socialization, playing football over kabaddi—these are some of the instances that give Anderson reason to argue that the shakha (and Hindu nationalism as a whole) takes root in the UK by becoming “vernacularized” in its local context.
Anderson focuses on “the Emergency” (1975–1977) and the Ram Janmabhoomi Movement as two critical flashpoints when the pro-Hindutva elements in the Indian diaspora were able to adopt a confident and strident stance in the public arena. In particular, advocacy against the Emergency allowed Hindu nationalists to burnish their democratic credentials and permitted a rapprochement with other civil society groups and political factions. Although this is not stated explicitly in the book, the Emergency (and its aftermath) constitutes another moment that supports Anderson’s contention that the travails of the Hindu nationalists in India and overseas often diverge. In contrast to the activities of the anti-Emergency Hindutva activists in the UK, Indira Gandhi was in fact feted by certain sections within the Sangh Parivar in India. While this was partially a strategic move to win favour with the Congress establishment, it also illustrates how Indira Gandhi’s centralization of power and her rhetoric of national unity appealed differently to the sensibilities of swayamsevaks in India versus those abroad.
Paying attention to the performative dimension of the Indian diaspora’s outreach activities in the UK, the book foregrounds the critical enabling role played by the policy of British multiculturalism espoused by successive UK governments in rehabilitating Hindutva and the cultural entrepreneurs who espouse it. Events such as Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh’s weekly shakhas, Vishwa Sangh Shibir, and Sewa Day frequently see participation from British MPs in a move that Anderson rightly describes as “well-meaning but naïve multiculturalism” (183). The rise of Islamophobia in the wake of the global “war on terror” in the 2000s and attempts at addressing race relations in the UK provided openings where Hindu nationalists groups were able to further position themselves as the “model minority,” and their anti-Muslim rhetoric found some wider purchase. Subsequently, Hindu nationalist philanthropy routed under the banner of “sewa” gained currency during David Cameron’s austerity years and his “Big Society” approach of empowering civil society. But because multiculturalism demands neat public identities, this also generated a competitive struggle amongst various individuals and organizations to emerge as the official public spokespersons of the British Hindu community. The book documents how these actors mobilized offense, hurt, and victimhood through letter writing campaigns, public demonstrations, and direct engagement with the UK government. In the process, Hindutva itself undergoes a transformation. What this had led to is the rise of what Anderson calls “neo-Hindutva”—a more diffuse and widespread spirit of Hindu nationalism that spills over the diktats of the Sangh Parivar and its ideological shibboleths. This then convincingly shows that the rise of Hindutva overseas is not simply the result of machinations orchestrated from India, but the product of a series of more contingent events and policies—Hindu nationalism in the UK is a story of British politics, not a geographic dislocation of Indian politics.
This is a carefully researched book that draws upon an impressive number of sources ranging from memoirs and blogs written by swayamsevaks to press reports and freedom of information requests. While it already provides a detailed historical account of the rise of Hindu nationalism outside India, it did leave me wanting to know more about how the actors and organizations discussed in the book positioned themselves against the rise of Sikh militancy during the 1980s (a crucial development between the Emergency and Ram Janmabhoomi movement, after all). Did the “ecumenical paternalism” (224) of including Sikhs within the Hindu fold come into conflict with the Hindu nationalist diaspora’s more hardline stand against secessionist movements in India? How was this resolved? Future scholars may indeed find this an interesting line of enquiry, particularly those studying the Indian diaspora in countries like Canada, where the spectre of Khalistan has once again returned to dominate the headlines. For many such scholars, Edward Anderson’s book will remain an enduring point of reference.
Amogh Dhar Sharma
University of Oxford, Oxford