Defending Hindu Tradition: Sanatana Dharma as a Symbol of Orthodoxy in Colonial India

Religion (2001) 31, 109–123doi:10.1006/reli.2001.0322, available online at http://www.idealibrary.com on

Defending Hindu Tradition: Sanatana Dharma as aSymbol of Orthodoxy in Colonial India

J Z

Accounts of social and religious reform and of Hindu revivalism in late nineteenth-century India refer consistently to the idea of sanatana dharma as an indicator of‘orthodox’ resistance to change in the context of a modernising religion. This articlequestions this presentation of sanatana dharma as an unmediated reactionary force. Itargues that sanatana dharma as orthodoxy in fact emerged as an influential feature of themodernisation process, most particularly in the development of a doctrinally non-confrontational, pan-Hindu identity. The article then argues that this identity wascritical to the conception of the Hindu nation in the early twentieth century—an ideawhich has subsequently developed into a significant force in Indian political andcultural life. � 2001 Academic Press

Situating Sanatana DharmaThe Sanskrit term sanatana dharma can be translated in a variety of ways. ‘Eternalreligion’ or ‘eternal law’ (Klostermaier 1989:31, 530), ‘unshakeable, venerable order’(Halbfass 1990:344), and ‘ancient and continuing guideline’ (Lipner 1994:221) are allexamples. These attempts to capture the meaning of a Hindu concept in English aremost commonly accompanied by references to the textual usage of the term which givea sense of its nuanced deployment within the Hindu tradition (see, for example,Lutgendorf 1991:363). At the same time an awareness is also frequently expressed of thedevelopment of this term into a more amorphous signifier of Hinduism as a religion,distinct from other religions. I use the term ‘signifier’ in the sense of an evocation ofparticular characteristics. Sanatana dharma has been noted as evoking a rather dubioushomogeneity in Hinduism, while at the same time contributing to the avoidance of anyclear articulation of how that homogeneity is constituted (see Halbfass 1990:344–5;Lipner 1994:221). As Lipner proclaims, ‘I have yet to discover a Hindu sanatana-dharmain the sense of some universally recognised philosophy, teaching or code of practice.Indeed there can be no such thing, for it presupposes that Hinduism is a monolithictradition in which there is agreement about some static, universal doctrine . . . [ratherthan] . . . a pluriform phenomenon in which there are many dynamic centres ofreligious belief and practice’ (Lipner 1994:221).

This articulation of sanatana dharma as a signifier of amorphous homogeneity has beenassociated with what Halbfass calls the ‘self-representation of Hinduism which grew outof its encounter with the West’ (Halbfass 1990:344). The notion of ‘growth’ isparticularly significant here, as there is no doubt that the meaning of the term has shiftedconsiderably over the past two centuries. ‘A plethora of positions’, Halbfass continues,‘have been defended and propagated under this title’. One position in particular appearsas a prominent feature of modern Hinduism in accounts of political and social history.Indeed, no history of nineteenth-century India is complete without reference to theemergence of various Sabhas designed to protect or promote sanatana dharma. Sabhas,which provide the main historical material for this article, are cast as the traditionalist,orthodox force against which reformers or modernisers fought to haul Hinduisminto the modern world. In contrast to its vague position in contemporary Hinduism,then, modern history locates sanatana dharma in a most particular way, as a signifier ofHindu orthodoxy.

� 2001 Academic Press0048–721X/01/020109+15 $35.00/0

I want to explore what exactly was denoted by this idea of orthodoxy and to examine

110 J. Zavos

the process by which sanatana dharma came to be perceived as its signifier towards theend of the nineteenth century. I will argue that sanatana dharma as orthodoxy in factdenoted little more than a series of symbols which attempted to encapsulate, yet notintervene in, the beliefs and ways of life of practising Hindus. This non-interventionist,‘symbolic’ orthodoxy was a political necessity during this period because of certainpressures created in the context of colonial rule. Most significant among these was theoperation of what will be called a ‘discourse of organisation’—organisation in a broadsense, a kind of framework for the articulation of issues in the public space of colonialIndia1—which had a profound impact on the presentation of Hinduism as a modernreligion. Sanatana dharma as orthodoxy, it will be argued, emerged within this context.Specifying this situation is necessary because of the anomalous way in which sanatanadharma as orthodoxy has been presented, as a classical traditionalism resisting bothcolonial and anti-colonial modernity.

The Presentation of Sanatana Dharma as OrthodoxyThe reactionary character of sanatana dharma has often been projected in direct contrastto the development of reform movements during the nineteenth century. Thehegemonic text of this trend is J. N. Farquhar’s Modern Religious Movements In India(1967, first published in 1915). Farquhar articulates the notion of Western-inspiredethical reform, held back by a ‘reactionary’ orthodoxy. The resurgence of thisreactionary force, he concludes, occurs within the context of a ‘continuous and steadilyincreasing inner decay’ in Hinduism, and may be equated with ‘the revival of theancient religions of the Roman Empire in the early Christian centuries’ (Farquhar1967:431, 445). Lutgendorf notes (1991:361) that Farquhar’s view has generated aculture of silence about this ‘reactionary resurgence’ among historians of nineteenth-century Hinduism. He also notes (1991:362) ‘multiformity’, or lack of definition, as areason for the lack of academic focus on this element of Hindu development. Certainlynineteenth-century sanatana dharma has sometimes been presented in a rather two-dimensional fashion, as a straightforward reactive force in the context of dynamicreform. J. T. F. Jordens, for example, narrates that when Dayananda arrived in Lahorein 1877, the ‘conservative Hindus’ established a Sanatana Dharma Sabha in order tocombat his influence (Jordens 1978:166). Similarly, Kenneth Jones has at timespresented the emergence of sanatana dharma as a direct reaction: ‘The forces ofchange—British, Bengali or Punjabi—generated counter pressures by those who woulddefend their faith from external criticism, be it missionary or reformer. ModernSanatanist (orthodox) movements in Punjab trace their growth from the career of PanditShraddha Ram’. Subsequently, we are told that ‘as Dayanand toured the Punjab,Shraddha Ram followed in his wake to strengthen the beleaguered forces of orthodoxy’(Jones 1976:27, 36). Opposition to reform is thus presented as undynamic, as literallyreactionary.

A number of works have attempted to question the idea of sanatana dharma asorthodoxy in more detail.2 Christopher Bayly (1975:104–17) has been influential inestablishing the significance of the issue. In the wake of his own work on the AryaSamaj, Kenneth Jones began to focus on the quality of conservative opposition toDayananda in the Punjab (see Jones 1998). Vasudha Dalmia has focused on the issue inmost depth, producing detailed studies of the development of a self conscious orthodoxyin Banaras in the 1870s (see Dalmia 1995, 1997, 1998). Her work is particularly salient

here because of its recognition of the dynamic character of sanatana dharma. She

Defending Hindu Tradition 111

demonstrates that spokesmen for sanatana dharma were ‘in the very name of orthodoxy,of tradition itself, . . . accommodating and articulating wide-reaching changes’. Sanatanadharma as orthodoxy is presented here not as merely reactionary, but as having a creativeinput into the articulation of modern Hinduism.

Can this input be seen as the gradual adjustment of an orthodox tradition in thecontext of rapid change brought on by colonialism? The answer depends on how farone identifies sanatana dharma with orthodox tradition in Hinduism. Orthodoxy is aconsistently awkward concept to reconcile with Hinduism because of the association oforthodoxy with a centralised, controlling institution, as in the Christian tradition. Thiskind of institution has not existed within Hinduism, although significantly someattempts have been made recently to introduce just such an authority.3 As a result,orthodoxy needs to be conceptualised differently, and certain sholars have beeninfluential in this task (see Klostermaier 1989; Eschmann 1997). ‘There are institutionsdefining and supervising orthodoxy but, and this makes all the difference, they are ofconsequence only within a certain place or region and are usually linked with a certaincaste’ (Eschmann 1997:112). Two institutional structures, caste and sampradaya, havebeen identified as forming the framework of this orthodoxy. Together, these structuresdefine a code of practice and a range of doctrinal truth that have a direct influence oversvadharma, or individual, personal dharma. What may be called orthodoxy, then, isconfigured by regional establishments, formed through the interaction of the caste andSampradaya institutions which prevailed in the region concerned (see Klostermaier1989:59; Eschmann 1997:112).

Sanatana dharma, I contend, was projected as orthodoxy in the late nineteenth andearly twentieth century in a different way. Three examples of its usage during thisperiod illustrate my point:

1. In the Punjab of the 1890s, Pandit Din Dayal Sharma began defending certainreligious practices (particularly murtipuja, or image worship) against the vituperousattacks of the Arya Samaj. In order to strengthen his position, he established anorganisation, which he called the Sanatana Dharm Sabha (see Farquhar 1967:316).

2. When a national organisation evolved to co-ordinate the work of organisationslike Sharma’s—the Bharat Dharma Mahamandal—its first stated objective was ‘topromote Hindu religious education in accordance with the sanatana dharma’(Farquhar 1967:317).

3. At the 1923 session of the Hindu Mahasabha in Benaras, conflict over theorganisation’s commitment to reform was brought to a head by SwamiShraddhananda when he attempted to push through various reforms related toshuddhi and the status of untouchables. The resolutions which eventually emergedon these subjects could not be entirely agreed upon, and certain points weretherefore qualified as the view of ‘a very large body of Hindus, i.e., the Sanatanists’(Leader 8/2/24).

In these examples sanatana dharma is institutionalised as the emblem of a religiousorganisation with specific aims; it is used to denote a particular form (with theimplication of being the truest form) of Hinduism; and it is used to represent a particulargroup of people, a ‘very large body of Hindus’ (with the implication of being the largestbody of Hindus). In these examples, sanatana dharma is presented as an orthodoxy inrelation to Hinduism as a whole. The ‘Sanatanists’ offered a self-image of the Hindu

Establishment, and their organisations were designed to defend and promote a

112 J. Zavos

pan-Hindu tradition ‘in accordance with the sanatana dharma’. This position offers adifferent quality of orthodoxy from that noted in the regional configurations.

A further key, and related, point to be drawn from these examples is the associationof sanatana dharma with modern organisational formations. Din Dayal’s Sabha, theBharat Dharma Mahamandal and the Hindu Mahasabha were all modern organisations.They had such features as constitutions and aims and objectives, secretaries, executiveboards and members, and they operated through print and periodicals, public meetings,and petitions to authority. As well as marking them off from traditional institutions,these features situated the organisations in a particular position within colonial society,a position which must now be explored.

Organisation and Representation in Colonial IndiaThe colonial state in India persistently presented the idea of organisation as a keyelement of metropolitan culture. It was a means of articulating power, in that theorganisation of the state, derived from the mother country, was contrasted to thesupposed disorganisation of indigenous society (see Zavos 2000:25–30). The stateprojected an image of depersonalised order, functioning in the interests of the peopleand perpetually ‘saving’ them from their own anarchic tendencies. Two aspects of thestate demonstrate this image. First, the state is associated with the ‘rule of law’. Not onlydid the Government legitimise itself by proclaiming that it was ‘established by law’, butit was also through the law that certain ‘rights’ were supposedly released to the people.The famed state policy of neutrality in religious matters, enshrined in the Queen’sProclamation of 1858, was articulated as a right within this framework. All religiousfaiths, the Proclamation states, ‘shall enjoy the equal and impartial protection of the law’(quoted in Philips 1962:11). Second, since 1858, the benevolence of the state—the ideathat it operated not only in the interests of the rulers but also and ultimately in theinterests of the Indians themselves—was based on the idea that the Queen’s Parliamentin Britain formed the ultimate authority in India. At the apex of imperial power, then,a representative body held sway, a body that operated through the language andinstitutions of democracy. Parliament might not have been representative of India’speople, but the proximity of representative institutions to the processes of governmentin India foregrounded the idea of representation as a feature of modern public life.

These aspects of the colonial state served to produce a kind of ‘legal-representativeculture’ which set the parameters for modes of articulation within the developing publicspace. Organisation was the key to this culture: formally constituted Societies, Sabhasand Samajes with registered members and acknowledged modes of practice provided anappropriate platform for addressing the state on issues of what was increasingly declaredto be ‘public interest’. The idea of organisation also enabled these bodies to projectthemselves as representative of that public whose interest they invoked. A Sabha thatpetitioned the Government on the legality of beef sales in a particular market did so onthe basis that its view was representative of a constituency of supporters—a publicinterest. The Nagpur Gaurakshini Sabha, for example, which petitioned the Govern-ment of India in July 1894 on the issue of cow protection, did so on behalf of ‘theinhabitants of Nagpur and the adjoining districts’.4 The Sabha—a self-appointedcollection of lawyers, bankers, landowners and the like—could not seriously claim torepresent such a wide constituency, but the accuracy of representative claims was notthe point. The idea of representation was necessary in order to legitimise the claims of

the Sabha within the legal culture of the colonial state. It is in this sense that I am


referring to organisation as a discourse: a means through which particular interests aregiven meaning within the public space of colonial India. And it is in this sense that I amcontending that organisation is critical in the legitimation of the image of sanatanadharma as a signifier of orthodoxy within this domain. In effect, it provides theparameters for the projection of an orthodox constituency—in the sense of anacknowledged public interest in need of representation—in modern Hinduism.

Organisational Development and the Projection of the Orthodox ConstituencyNot surprisingly, the earliest examples of Hinduism articulated in modern organisationalframeworks were formulated in Calcutta, the seat of the colonial government and thehub of the expanding state. The Brahmo Samaj, formed by Rammohun Roy in 1828as the Brahmo Sabha, is commonly cited as the first reforming organisation in India. Inits early years, however, it had a limited public presence. More significant at this stagewas the formation of the Calcutta Dharma Sabha in 1831. It was formed by thoseelements of the Calcutta intelligentsia who had petitioned Parliament early in 1830opposing Bentinck’s sati decree, and it is commonly cited as the first orthodoxinstitution of the colonial era (see Jones 1989:32). Its main weapon in its stated objectiveof defending Hindu tradition was to formulate petitions and memorials addressed toauthority. As such, it developed an appropriate form for this kind of political expression.It included ‘a president, a board of directors, a secretary, and a treasurer, and themembers regularly organised committees for special purposes’; in addition, the Sabha‘conducted its meetings according to strict rules of parliamentary procedure’ (Kopf1969:271). When the Brahmo Samaj was revived in the early 1840s by DebendranathTagore, it followed a similar pattern of development, establishing basic rules formembership and an executive committee to regulate Samaj affairs. Both organisationsdrew their membership from the same social stratum: the Calcutta bhadralok, land-owning, high-caste, with vested interests in British rule, and after 1835 almost invariablyEnglish-educated.

Here, then, is an example of the influence of the state’s legal culture on thepresentation of Hinduism in the public domain, where the primacy of organisationis evident. Hindus operating within this domain articulated their concerns throughthe formation of bodies which had a coherent meaning within this context. Both theDharma Sabha and the Brahmo Samaj were limited by the comparatively isolated socialstatus of their adherents. Nevertheless, their form and their position in relation to thecolonial public space illustrate the pattern of organisation which was to develop in thelater nineteenth century. Even at this early stage, the pattern is marked by a template ofpolarisation, which sees the presentation of ‘reformism’ and ‘orthodoxy’ as opposingconstituencies in a putative ‘community of Hindus’. Furthermore, these positions arepresented and articulated around particular issues—in this instance, sati.

Towards the end of the nineteenth century, the notion of sanatana dharma asorthodoxy became increasingly entrenched in this arrangement. In the Punjab CensusReport for 1891, the Census Superintendent notes the tendency of ‘orthodox Hindus. . . to record themselves as orthodox by sect’. While specifying numbers returned asbrahmachari (592), smartak (123) and karm kandi (838), he then goes on to commentthat

a still larger number were entered as Sanathan-dharmi, but I have not thought itworthwhile to record their numbers: the term merely implies that they belong to the

‘old school’, and it is generally used in contradistinction to the followers of the Arya

114 J. Zavos

Samaj. In Lahore City I found at the commencement of the preliminary enumerationthat almost everybody who was not an Arya was being recorded as a Sanathan-dharmi,which was a view of the meaning of our ‘sect-column’ that would have deprived it ofits main interest. The term is generally used now-a-days in contradistinction to theAryas, and there are numerous societies and clubs which under this title do what theycan to maintain the orthodox faith. (Punjab Census Report 1891, vol. XIX Pt. 1,1892:171–2)

Two points should be noted from this comment. First, ‘not being an Arya’ isidentified as the common characteristic of ‘sanathan-dharmis’. Second, ‘numeroussocieties and clubs’ are cited as ‘maintaining the orthodox faith’. The CensusSuperintendent outlines an idea manifested in modern organisational forms, whichacquired meaning only through its articulation in opposition to the reformism of theArya Samaj. The projection of sanatana dharma as orthodoxy, then, is dependent on thetemplate of polarisation noted as a generic feature of the colonial discourse oforganisation which manifests itself variously according to context.

The argument about variety according to context is supported by developments inBanaras during the 1870s. In this context, a different image of orthodoxy was beingdeveloped. Dalmia’s examination of the work of Bharatendu Harischandra demonstrateshis attempts to formulate a standardised Vaishnavite approach to the ‘true’ form ofHindu belief and practice. Harischandra fashioned his approach through his journalsand through his involvement in two organisations, the Kashi Dharma Sabha and theTadiya Samaj. The Kashi Dharma Sabha had been instigated in the late 1860s by theMaharaja of Banaras, and Harischandra was its executive secretary during its early years.One of its principal concerns was the dispensation of vyavasthas, or religious ordinances.This practice had long been a recognised function of individual pandits, guided by theirown Sampradaya-based theology. Dalmia states that the Maharaja sought to provide thissystem with an organised structure through the establishment of the Dharma Sabha. Sheillustrates how the Sabha exercised its authority, mostly by making rulings on issues ofritual practice. These rulings were widely accepted, it would appear, through theirassociation with Banaras and the Maharaja, but the thrust of the organisation isnevertheless clear: to establish a body with the authority to define standard procedurewithin the Hindu religion (see Dalmia 1995:184–6).

Because of its basis in the vyavastha tradition, the Sabha’s authority encompassed ritualpractice. Harischandra, however, was by the early 1870s more interested in establishinga doctrinal standard in Hinduism. He attempted to consolidate the doctrinal approach ofkey Vaishnavite Sampradayas through the articulation of a common base in monotheismand bhakti (see Dalmia 1995:188–9). The Tadiya Samaj was the organisational form forthis consolidation. It is clear that Harischandra and his associates in the Tadiya Samajwere motivated by a concern for the predicament of Hinduism as a whole within thecontext of colonial rule. This concern was precisely expressed in 1872 as a need tocounter the heterogeneity of Hinduism, which prevented the presentation of a unitedfront, an effective ‘Hindu public opinion’ (see Dalmia 1995:186–7). The idea of publicopinion suggests the influence of the colonial public space in the articulation of thisformulaic orthodoxy. But it also drew on the traditional authority of the Sampradayastructure and on the ‘natural’ authority of Banaras as a theological focal point of Hinduism.

This attempt to reformulate tradition in Banaras thus reflects the particular conditionsof that centre of Hindu thought. As suggested by the Census Report, the SanatanaDharma Sabhas which emerged in Punjab were not so distinct. They were characterised

primarily by the way they shadowed the development of the Arya Samaj. The simple


image of a reactive, conservative force is nevertheless misleading. Pandit Shraddha Ram,the most prominent early ‘Sanatani’, was a proactive and by no means conventionalcampaigner. In 1875 he had established the Hindu Dharm Prakashik Sabha, ‘dedicatedto the defence of Hindu orthodoxy’. This organisation was established in the specificcontext of Ludhiana, where Kanhya Lal Alakhdari’s reformist Niti Prakash Sabha hadbeen operating since 1873. Previously, however, he had collaborated with Alakhdari inAmritsar, where a Dharma Sabha was established in 1872 to ‘improve the moralstandards of the Hindu community’ (Jones 1998:227). In addition, as early as 1874 hehad performed several shuddhi ceremonies to reclaim converted Hindus (see Jones1976:28).

The establishment of the Ludhiana organisations is an early indication of the way inwhich nominally reformist and orthodox bodies developed together in Punjab duringthis period. They all recruited from the same pool of traditional literatecastes—Brahmans, Khatris, Aroras, Banias—that had taken advantage of the colonialeducation system. From the outset, these organisations were concerned not only withattacking or defending various aspects of ritual practice and social custom but also withraising issues which engendered consensus. Jones notes that it is often difficult to tracethe development of the ‘competing’ networks of Arya and Sanatani organisationsbecause of the tendency to use the same terminology and the confluence of objectivesamong these organisations (see Jones 1976:111). The classic notion of furious debatebetween Aryas and Sanatanis over issues such as image worship is, then, temperedthroughout this period by consistent consensus on issues such as the promotion ofSanskrit and Hindi, the need to ‘purify’ practice and curb expenditure on ritual, and toa certain extent the necessity of shuddhi as a means of ‘reclaiming’ converts to otherreligions. In particular, the issue of cow protection, as it gained prominence in the late1880s and early 1890s, was marked consistently by co-operation between Aryas andSanatanis.

How, then, did the Sanatana Dharma Sabhas distinguish themselves as orthodox?Unlike Harischandra’s attempt to develop a homogenising doctrinal core, the PunjabiSabhas generated doctrinal statements—beyond the vague invocation of sruti-smriti orved-upanishad-itihas-puran—only in response to reformist concerns. No core theologywas developed, to be referred to by any well-read Sanatani in a debate with an Arya.Instead, Sanatanis relied on learned individuals like Shraddha Ram to travel from districtto district, refuting the arguments of Dayananda and other reformers as they arose. Theemphasis was placed on practice and structure, as opposed to doctrine, as the definingelements of Hindu tradition. The main areas of Arya criticism in the 1880s were imageworship and the position of Brahmans in Hindu society. Consequently, image worshipand established caste hierarchies were identified as core features of the tradition whichthe Sabhas sought to defend.

This view is reflected in the most ambitious projection of orthodoxy during the latenineteenth century, the Bharat Dharma Mahamandal. Although this organisation firstmet at Hardwar in 1887, it developed very much on the Punjabi model (see Jones1998:233) and is said to have been the work of Pandit Din Dayal Sharma.5 TheMahamandal set itself up as a central umbrella organisation for the network of SanatanaDharma Sabhas that were by this time well established in Punjab and NorthwesternProvinces. Promoting the second meeting of the Mahamandal in 1889, Sharma isreported to have publicised the expansion of the Sabha network from under a hundredto more than two hundred since the foundation of the Mahamandal. In addition, the

organisation was said to have preserved Sanskrit manuscripts by placing them in ‘the

116 J. Zavos

libraries of the Dharma Sabhas’; improving ‘old indigenous Sanskrit schools’ andopening new ones; appointing ‘learned Brahmins . . . to lecture on orthodox Hindureligion’; and generally making efforts to ‘refute the new propaganda of the modernHindu sects’.6 These concerns were reiterated in a report prepared for the Mahamandalduring 1889 under Sharma’s supervision (see Jones 1998:235–6). Criticising the‘ignorance’ of reformers, the report advocated religious and linguistic (Sanskrit)education, the translation of some ‘doctrinal books’ into vernaculars, and the protectionof varna dharma. The spirit of Hinduism was to be preserved by the ‘transmission ofproper custom and the prevention of bad custom’ (Jones 1998:237).

The Mahamandal developed into a Congress-style organisation,7 meeting fairlyconsistently on an annual basis and attended by delegates representing affiliated Sabhas.It recruited several Hindu Rajas as patrons and figureheads of a revivified Hinduism. By1902, the organisation claimed as its constituency ‘the whole of the orthodox classes ofthe Hindus in India.’8 Subjects of discussion at the 1900 session of the Mahamandal,held at Delhi, again give an indication of the issues that defined this orthodoxy: theworship of images, use of ‘Devanagri language’, obedience due to Pandits and Brahmans,the lack of Shastric authority for widow remarriage and the need for a Sanskrit College‘in which the old Hindu laws and c. were to be taught’.9 The agenda, then, wasdominated by issues of practice and structure. The lack of any doctrinal core is evidentin this body representative of orthodoxy.

Defining Approaches to the Organisation of HinduismDebate around issues of practice and structure increasingly encouraged consideration ofhow Hinduism was and should be organised. Arya criticism of contemporary Brahman-ism was based on Dayananda’s perception of a rigid, multi-layered caste structure whichbred complacency, corruption and oppression. This structure, the Swami said, should bereplaced by the ‘old’, ‘pure’ system of merit-based varna, a coherent, harmonious Vedicstructure, in which varna status would be ‘assigned’ according to practice. The AryaSamaj kept this radical objective sufficiently at arm’s length to allow individual Aryas tomaintain full caste relations, but it nevertheless existed as a vision of Hindu societywhich consistently focused debate on the ‘shape’ of the Hindu religion.

Critically, the Aryas developed their argument around the threat posed by Christianmissionaries. Census returns ensured that this threat was tangible in the public space.The 1891 Census recorded a dramatic 410% increase in the indigenous Christianpopulation of Punjab. The Census Report noted that this increase was largely effectedthrough concentrated efforts amongst lower caste Hindus and untouchables (Census ofIndia 1891 Vol. XIX, Pt. 1, 1892:97). The Arya Samaj explained this success by focusingon two central factors. First, the passive, disorganised nature of Hinduism, with itsproliferation of subcastes, made it vulnerable to aggressive missionary activity. Second,the oppression of certain groups as a result of this proliferation and the corrupt powerof the Brahmans rendered these groups willing to accept Christianity. Both of thesefactors were underpinned by a subtext of the degeneration of Hinduism, of its fall fromthe Vedic Golden Age. Sanatanis were similarly concerned with the threat ofChristianity and with the degeneracy that made Hinduism vulnerable to the threat. Thisconcern meant addressing the combined problems of disorganisation and oppression, asemphasised by the Arya Samaj, while at the same time defending the caste structure asan aspect of Hindu tradition.

The difference in approach of Aryas and Sanatanis to these problems is crucial to an


understanding of the dynamics of Hindu politics as it developed in the twentiethcentury. The Arya approach was based on Dayananda’s vision, as developed in his keywork, Satyarth Prakash. It meant working towards a vertical restructuring of society,reflecting the Swami’s interpretation of varnashramadharma as a Vedic system based onmerit. Hinduism would be unified by means of an overhaul which would see thegradual diminution of the oppressive nature of the structure, as oppressed elementswould be progressively absorbed into a purified Hindu society, in accordance with theVedic ideal. The Sanatani approach, by contrast, had no doctrinal source. Indeed, itssuccess depended on the relegation of doctrine to a position of secondary importance, asdoctrinal difference was precisely what the idea of a pan-Hindu orthodoxy could notconfront. Instead, it focused on a kind of horizontal binding together of the existingstructure, driven by the notion that all castes have an organic role in Hindu society andtherefore demand respect. Respect for low castes, untouchables and women wasaccompanied by a commitment to an improvement of their conditions but not to achange of their status.

The development of the shuddhi, or purification, movement in the late 1880s and1890s brought this difference of approach to a head. It has already been noted that theSanatani Shraddha Ram had conducted shuddhi ceremonies as a way of readmittingconverts to their former castes as early as 1874. This practice reflects a consensualappreciation of the function of shuddhi at this early stage as a means of countering theincursions of Christian missionaries. Indeed, the first phase of systematic Arya-ledshuddhi was characterised by numerous concessions to the sensibilities of locally-recognised orthodoxy. The ceremony developed by the Amritsar Samaj, for example,was devised in association with a local pandit, Tulsi Ram, and included a trip toHardwar, where, ‘after bath, they would get themselves purified by taking water madeholy with cow dung by paying Rs 5-4-0’ (Swami Shraddhananda, quoted in Ghai1990:47). As well as the incorporation of ritualistic elements, shuddhi during this periodwas generally targeted at straightforward cases of individual converts to Christianity orIslam, who could be rehabilitated relatively smoothly into their former castes. Theseconcessions were important for both sides. For Aryas, it provided their work with acrucial legitimacy within Hindu society. For Sanatanis, this kind of shuddhi could beseen as a proactive means of countering the threat of missionary activity, withoutseriously affecting established hierarchies.

As early as 1888, however, the Arya press expressed dissatisfaction with this approach.In August the Arya Patrika described ritual aspects of the shuddhi ceremony as‘degrading’, and it was noted that ‘a true Arya would never bow down to suchunmeaning ceremonies and their selfish advocates, the Brahmans’ (Ghai 1990:48). In1890 the Montgomery Samaj refused to send a Muslim convert to Hardwar, and in 1893the Amritsar Samaj led the way by changing its ceremony to conform to a ‘purely Vedicformula’ (Graham 1942:463–5).

This new streamlined ceremony, eliminating all priestly involvement, was to provethe vehicle for a fundamental change in the nature of shuddhi. First, the practice ofindividual ceremonies was gradually superseded by multiple or mass purifications.Second, the subjects of shuddhi ceremonies were increasingly low-caste Hindus oruntouchables, as opposed to Christians or Muslims (see Jordens 1977:150). Theemphasis moved away from the notion of reclaiming those lost to other religions andtowards the notion of improving the predicament of groups nominally associated withHinduism by investing them with full (twice-born) caste status. For radical Aryas, this

kind of shuddhi not only worked towards the eradication of caste oppression associated

118 J. Zavos

with the corruption of contemporary Brahmanism but also implicitly acknowledgedDayananda’s framework of merit-based varna, for the ceremony implied the purificationof low caste practice as a feature of their new twice-born status. In short, it was a vehiclefor the vertical restructuring of Hinduism.

For Sanatanis, the shift in emphasis meant a direct assault on the structure they soughtto defend as a fundamental component of Hindu tradition. Shuddhi had come to beperceived as a means of reclaiming or converting individuals from the ‘foreign’ religionsof Christianity and Islam. The involvement of establishment pandits and ritualisedceremonies reflected and reinforced this perception. The new trend in Arya practice,however, shattered the image. How could low caste groups be converted or reclaimedif they were already a feature of Hindu society? The question demonstrates the divisionbetween vertical and horizontal conceptions of the organisation of Hinduism, andfocuses directly on the boundaries of the religion as the critical area of dispute betweenthese conceptions. As well as provoking immediate and strong resistance (see Ghai1990:69), the Aryas’ new focus concretised the oppositional template already apparentin approaches to the organisation of Hinduism. This emerging dichotomy betweenvertical and horizontal organisation set the parameters for middle-class debates in theearly twentieth century on the development of Hinduism as both a political force anda religious entity.

Hindu Politics in the 1920sIn order to demonstrate the pattern of development into the twentieth century, I referto debates in the Hindu Mahasabha during the early 1920s. The Mahasabha hademerged in the Northwest as an explicitly political organisation, designed to protect andpromote the interests of Hindus in the realm of colonial politics. Its principal objectiveduring the early 1920s was, significantly, organisation. An editorial in The Leader shortlybefore the Benaras session of the Mahasabha in 1923 expressed the central idea clearly:

Nothing is now left for the Hindus but to organise themselves. . . . They must as acommunity inspire respect before they can have unity on reasonable and equal termswith the Muslims. Their first duty, in their own interest, in the interest of the country,and also in that of Hindu-Muslim unity, is that they should organise, organise,organise. (Leader 2/4/23)

The 1923 Session occurred in the context of collaboration between Sanatanis andAryas over shuddhi. The so-called Malkana shuddhi campaign was conducted in WesternUnited Provinces under the leadership of the militant Arya Swami Shraddhananda.Although this was the first time that Sanatanists had been involved in mass shuddhiceremonies, the Malkanas were an easy target, being descendants of Hindu Rajputconverts to Islam. Since most of their customs and practices were recognisably Hindu,there was little objection to their admittance into Hinduism. At a meeting of ‘BenarasSanatanists’ in April 1923, for example, ‘all spoke supporting the Malkana Shuddhimovement as allowed by the religious books and traditions of Sanatan Dharm’ (Leader30/4/23).

Nevertheless, the tensions over horizontal and vertical organisation remained andcame to a head at the 1923 Session of the Mahasabha. Shraddhananda tabled threeresolutions based on the Arya vision of vertically restructured Hinduism. The first dealtwith untouchables, calling for practical concessions (access to wells, schools, etc.) as a

prelude to their assimilation into the ‘organic whole in the great body of the Aryan


fraternity’ (through shuddhi). The second dealt specifically with the Malkana Rajputs.The third dealt more generally with shuddhi as a process of conversion from otherreligions, calling for the acceptance ‘by the whole Hindu community’ of convertsregardless of which ‘sect’ had performed the shuddhi rites (Leader 8/8/23). This resolutionmust be seen in the context of Dayananda’s theory of merit-based varna, as by followingthe logic of this system reclaimed Aryas could be assigned to a twice-born varna statusafter purification. The practical application of this theory, however, depended partly onthe validation of such status by the wider community in which the ‘converts’ moved.

The only resolution dealt with immediately was that referring to the MalkanaRajputs. The resolution that emerged stated that the Malkanas ‘should be taken backinto the Hindu fold in the castes to which they originally belonged’ (Leader 24/8/23).This resolution was doing no more than confirming the righteousness of the shuddhicampaign as it stood.

Both of Shraddhananda’s other resolutions, however, were referred to a committee ofpandits for consideration. This committee, consisting of seventy-five pandits, met inJanuary 1924, and the results of their deliberations were adopted as Mahasabha policy ata special session in February. Concession was made in relation to the first resolution onthe issue of untouchability, in that access to wells, temples and schools was generallyencouraged. At the same time the resolution tabled made clear that this concessionwould not stretch to a consideration of shuddhi amongst untouchables, stating that it was‘against scripture and the tradition to give the untouchables yajyopavit [i.e investiturewith sacred thread], to teach the Vedas and to interdine with them’ (Leader 8/2/24). Itwas clear that shuddhi as a vehicle for the vertical re-organisation of Hinduism was notto be contemplated as Mahasabha policy.

The third resolution, dealing with conversions, stated that ‘any non-Hindu waswelcome to enter the fold of Hinduism, though he could not be taken into any caste’(Leader 8/2/24). This statement again ensures the preservation of the existing castestructure. Shraddhananda’s intention—that the Mahasabha should recognise the validityof merit-based varna—was resolutely rejected.

The idea of a catholic, horizontal unity based on the perceived tolerance of the Hindutradition, encompassing all sects and dishing out theoretical respect to all levels of Hindusociety, became established as the defining principle of Hindu representation. Nodiscord could be expressed without negating this defining principle. Instead, theMahasabha promoted signifiers of Hinduism which reflected this idea of unity andconsensus—cow protection, the promotion of Hindi, Sanskrit and Nagari, swadeshi asa facet of Hindu culture, service to widows and low caste/untouchable groups (but,again, no change in status)—and controversial issues relating to the nature of organisedHinduism such as shuddhi became increasingly subject to the parameters of this unity.Indeed, the later development of the shuddhi movement illustrates this, in the way thatthe purification of untouchables has become increasingly subordinated to that ofChristian and Muslim converts, and the focus of the movement has tended towards ‘softtargets’ among the latter (see Sikand and Katju 1994).

The Nation as Organised HinduismWith this triumph of horizontal over vertical organisation in the Mahasabha, thepolitical significance of sanatana dharma as orthodoxy began to be superseded by a morepotent symbol of organised Hinduism: the Hindu nation. This symbol was the natural

articulation of the political constituency that organised Hinduism sought to represent.

120 J. Zavos

Even in the Bharat Dharma Mahamandal, the idea of the nation was influential. As earlyas 1915, the Mahamandal announced its impending session at Benaras by describing it asan ‘All-India Conference of Hindus’: ‘invitations would be sent . . . to every Hindugentleman who can speak for his sect, order, class or caste. The representative characterof the conference . . . would be so thorough, complete and beyond question as toimpart to its decisions the prestige and authority of the united voice of the Hindunation’.10 The representative sweep of the Mahamandal, then, moved on from the 1902invocation of ‘the whole of the orthodox classes of the Hindus in India’ to ‘the unitedvoice of the Hindu nation’.

In the early 1920’s, as the debates over the quality of Hindu organisation intensifiedin the Mahasabha, the notion of a catholic, horizontally organised Hindu nation beganto find expression as a political philosophy. The key text here is V. D. Savarkar’sHindutva, first published in 1923. This text took the notion of catholicity to an extreme.Savarkar constructed a history of struggle against Muslim rule in which a grandahistorical alliance of sects were welded into the Hindu nation:

In this prolonged furious conflict our people became intensely conscious of ourselvesas Hindus and were welded into a nation to an extent unknown in our history. It mustnot be forgotten that we have all along referred to the progress of the Hindumovement as a whole and not to that of any particular creed or religious sectionthereof—of Hindutva and not Hinduism only. Sanatanists, Satnamis, Sikhs, Arya,Anaryas, Marathas and Madrasis, Brahmins and Panchamas—all suffered as Hindus andtriumphed as Hindus. (Savarkar 1989:45)

Here the Sanatanis are appropriated as a group within the wider construct of thenation. ‘Sanatan Dharma’, Savarkar writes, ‘is merely a sect of Hinduism or HinduDharma, however overwhelming be the majority that contributes to its tenets’ (Savarkar1989:109). Sanatana dharma as orthodoxy is no longer perceived as the defender ofHindu tradition, the image which had sustained its position in the period of rapid Aryaand missionary advance. With its heavy emphasis on historical development, Hindunationalism assumes this role. Significantly, it appropriates many of the factors that havebeen identified as indicators of sanatana dharma. Horizontal organisation, the catholicunity of Hindu society, is, of course, the most fundamental. Hindu nationalism alsomoved smoothly into the areas of cow protection and the promotion of Hindi andSanskrit, and it remained empty of any doctrinal core beyond its deification of thenation. Although sanatana dharma was recognised as a signifier of orthodoxy withinHindu nationalism, it was no longer significant in a political context, in the contextof representation, as pan-Hindu organisations, addressing putative pan-Hinduconstituencies, were consolidated in the realm of nationalist ideology.

ConclusionIdeas underpinning Hindu nationalist organisations which emerged or, like theMahasabha, consolidated themselves in the 1920s can be linked to debates over thedevelopment of the Hindu religion formulated in the late nineteenth century. I haveargued that indigenous elites in search of a meaningful voice in the colonial contextlooked to the establishment of a particular kind of quasi-representative organisationduring this period as an appropriate framework for the expression of concerns. Part ofthe logic of this process was the identification of a legitimising constituency, a groupto represent. As the combination of missionary criticism and reformist dynamism

increasingly brought issues related to Hinduism within the public domain, the


projection of these constituencies was influential in the development of the idea of anorganised Hindu religion.

Sanatana dharma emerged as a symbol of orthodoxy in this development of organisedHinduism. The opposing ideas of orthodoxy and reformism were ‘called into being’ byeach other. Movements were given meaning by the respective projection of themodern, reforming and the traditional, orthodox constituencies of Hindus. I haveargued that sanatana dharma acts as a symbol of orthodoxy during this period, in that itnever developed into a doctrinally coherent and universally recognisable set of beliefs. Itremained simply a signifier of various practices and structures that were perceived inparticular regional and historical contexts as encapsulating ‘traditional’ Hinduism. Indefending this tradition against reformist and missionary critiques, the Sanatana DharmaSabhas which emerged in the Northwest in the 1880s and 1890s drew heavily on theidea of what I have termed the horizontal organisation of Hinduism: a binding togetherof the social structure that sought to protect existing divisions and present them aselements of an ‘organic’ unity.

It is this idea which was inherited and strengthened in the articulation of Hindunationalism in the early twentieth century. By the end of the 1920s, organisations likethe Hindu Mahasabha projected themselves as representative of a modern politicalformation: the multi-caste, multi-class and multi-sect nation of Hindus. This articulationconstituted a logical progression in the search for a meaningful constituency of Hindus.

Notes1 The ‘public space’ here indicates a space where the indigenous population could address the

state as well as each other on matters related to the state. This address could be through a varietyof channels: the press; the law courts; petitions and memorials; literature and art; legallyconstituted political, social, religious organisations; and, progressively, through representationand electoral politics. On this theme, see Zavos 2000:12–4.

2 See Dalmia 1997:2–4, n.5 for a comprehensive review of literature dealing with this issue froma variety of angles.

3 Two institutions associated with the Vishwa Hindu Parishad are of particular significance here:the Central Margdarshak Mandal and the Dharma Sansad. See Jaffrelot 1996:351–3.

4 Home Dept Public July 1894 A Progs No. 302, National Archives of India (NAI).5 See ‘Proposed Deputation of the Bharat Dharma Mahamandal Society to the King’s

Coronation’, Foreign Department, Internal, B Progs, June 1902, Nos 112–4 (NAI).6 Bharat Bandhu (Aligarh) 28 December 1888, quoted in Selections from Vernacular Newspapers:

North Western Provinces, Oudh, Central Provinces, Central India and Rajputana, 1889.7 The Mahratta notes on 6 March 1892 that the constitution of the Mahamandal ‘closely resembles

that of the National Congress’.8 Letter from Rai Baroda K. Lahiri, Secretary, Bharat Dharma Mahamandal, Aligarh, to Chief

Secretary to the United Provinces Government, 31 March 1902; Home Department, Public, AProgs, May 1902, No. 260 (NAI).

9 Extract from CSB Abstract No. 35, dated 5 December 1900, quoted in Foreign Department,Internal, B Progs, June 1902, Nos 112–4 (NAI).

10 Announcement from the Bharat Dharma Mahamandal Head Office, Benaras, 31 July 1915; seeTilak Papers Reel 1 (Correspondence), Nehru Memorial Library.

BibliographyBayly, Christopher

1975Local Roots of Indian Politics: Allahabad 1880–1920. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Bayly, Susan1998

‘Hindu Modernisers and the Public Arena: Indigenous Critiques of Castein Colonial India’, in Swami Vivekananda and the Modernisation of Hinduism,pp. 93–137. Ed. by William Radice. Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Dalmia, Vasudha ‘The Only Real Religion of the Hindus: Vaisnava Self-representation in the

122 J. Zavos

1995 Late Nineteenth Century’, in Representing Hinduism: The Construction ofReligious Traditions and National Identity, 176–210. Ed. by Vasudha Dalmiaand Heinrich Von Stietencron. New Delhi: Sage.

1997 Nationalisation of Hindu Traditions: Bharatendu Harischandra and NineteenthCentury Benaras. Delhi: Oxford University Press.

1998 ‘The Modernity of Tradition: Harischandra of Banaras and the Defence ofHindu Dharma’, in Swami Vivekananda and the Modernisation of Hinduism,77–92. Ed. by William Radice. Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Eschmann,Anncharlotte

1997

‘Religion, Reaction and Change: the Role of Sects in Hinduism’, inHinduism Reconsidered, 108–20. Ed. by Gunther Sontheimer and HermannKulke. Delhi: Manohar.

Farquhar, John N.1967

Modern Religious Movements in India. Delhi: Manohar.

Ghai, R. K.1990

The Shuddhi Movement in India. New Delhi: Commonwealth.

Graham, J. R.1942

‘The Arya Samaj as a Reformation in Hinduism with Special Reference 1942to Caste. Yale Ph.D. Dissertation.

Halbfass, Wilhelm1990

India and Europe: an Essay in Philosophical Understanding. Delhi: MotilalBanarsidass.

Jaffrelot, Christophe1996

Hindu Nationalist Movement in India. London: Hurst.

Jones, Kenneth1976

Arya Dharm: Hindu Consciousness in 19th Century Punjab. Delhi: Manohar.

1994 Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India. New Cambridge History ofIndia III.1. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

1998 ‘Two Sanatan Dharma Leaders and Swami Vivekananda’, in SwamiVivekananda and the Modernisation of Hinduism, 224–43. Ed. by WilliamRadice. Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Jordens, J. T. F.1977

‘Reconversion to Hinduism, The Shuddhi of the Arya Samaj’, in Religion inSouth Asia: Religious Conversion and Revival Movements in South Asia inMedieval and Modern Times, 145–62. Ed. by Geoffrey Oddie. London:Curzon Press.

1978 Dayananda Saraswati: His Life and Ideas. Delhi: Oxford University Press.Klostermaier, Klaus

1989A Survey of Hinduism. Albany: State University of New York Press.

Kopf, David1969

British Orientalism and the Bengal Renaissance. Berkeley: University ofCalifornia Press.

Lipner, Julius1994

Hindus: Their Religious Beliefs and Practices. London: Routledge.

Lutgendorf, Philip1991

The Life of a Text: Performing the Ramcaritmanas of Tulsidas. Berkeley:University of California Press.

Philips, Cyril H.,ed.

1962

Evolution of India and Pakistan 1858–1947: Select Documents. London: OxfordUniversity Press.

Savarkar, VinayakDamodar

1989

Hindutva: Who is a Hindu? Bombay: Veer Savarkar Prakashan. 6th ed.

Sikand, Yoginderand Manjari, Katju

1994

‘Mass Conversions to Hinduism among Indian Muslims’, Economic andPolitical Weekly 29:2214–9.

Zavos, John2000

Emergence of Hindu Nationalism in India. Delhi: Oxford University Press.

JOHN ZAVOS completed his Ph.D. on the development of Hindu Nationalism at theUniversity of Bristol in 1998. He had previously studied at University of Sussex andJawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. He is currently Lecturer in South Asian

Studies in the Department of Religions and Theology at University of Manchester. His


book The Emergence of Hindu Nationalism in India was published in 2000 by OxfordUniversity Press.

Department of Religions and Theology, University of Manchester, Oxford Road, ManchesterM13 9PL, U.K. E-mail: [email protected]