Dynamics of Contentious Repertoires: The Gandhian Repertoire as “Truly New”

Sean Chabot

Amsterdam School for Social Science Research (ASSR)

University of Amsterdam

Doug McAdam, Sidney Tarrow, and Charles Tilly have recently introduced a new agenda for studying the “dynamics of contention.” This article raises three questions about their latest interpretation of the contentious repertoire concept in particular: Is it really more dynamic than previous interpretations? When is a set of collective action routines “truly new”? How exactly does a novel repertoire emerge and evolve? The first section reviews how Tilly’s concept has developed over the years. The following section suggests that the Gandhian repertoire was one of the twentieth century’s innovative repertoires. The final section evaluates my findings and considers their implications.

INTRODUCTION

After contributing to the establishment of political process theory as the dominant paradigm in social movement research, Charles Tilly, Doug McAdam, and Sidney Tarrow have recently outlined a new and improved framework for studying contentious politics. In Dynamics of Contention, they seek to correct for the structuralist biases and static tendencies that have crept into their own “classical” model by highlighting relational mechanisms and historical episodes rather than constant variables and general laws (McAdam, Tarrow, and Tilly 2001: 14-34; Goodwin and Jasper 1999).[1] Tilly and his collaborators claim, for example, that they now put the repertoire of contention concept “in motion” by highlighting the innovations that typically occur at the start of a collective action campaign. They stress the dynamic side of the repertoire, comparing it to the “scripted interactions in the improvisatory manner of jazz or street theater rather than the more repetitious routines of art songs or religious rituals.” In the same breath, though, they also assert that the innovative forms of action arising during the early stages of a social movement are rarely “truly new” and usually “creative modifications or extensions of familiar routines” (McAdam et al. 2001: 48-49).

This article raises three vital questions concerning the latest revision of Tilly’s familiar repertoire concept, which is currently celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary (Tilly 1977[“Getting it together in Burgundy,” Theory and Society 4: 479-504]). Is it really more dynamic than previous versions of the repertoire concept? When is a contentious repertoire “truly new”? How exactly does a novel repertoire emerge and evolve? To provide answers, I begin with an overview of how Tilly’s notion has developed over the years. Then, I introduce the Gandhian repertoire and suggest that it was one of the twentieth century’s new contentious repertoires. Next, I use empirical evidence from my doctoral dissertation to sketch how this innovative repertoire—the Gandhian repertoire—emerged in South Africa and evolved during the Indian independence movement. The final section evaluates my findings and considers their implications for future work on the repertoire of contention.

GENEALOGY OF TILLY’S REPERTOIRE OF CONTENTION

When Tilly first proposed the notion of repertoire in 1977, he wanted to capture “the hypothesis that the prior history of contention strongly constrains the choices of action currently available, in partial independence of the identities and interests that participants bring to the action” (1995b [in Traugott]: 28). In subsequent years, he extended the term to account for the historical fact that contention generally involves interaction among contending parties rather than single (individual or collective) actors. Repertoires were not strategies belonging to distinct entities, but means of collective action connecting various parties. Following several empirical applications during the 1980s and early 1990s (Tilly 1986, 1993), Tilly had honed his concept by 1995:

The word repertoire identifies a limited set of routines that are learned, shared, and acted out through a relatively deliberate process of choice. Repertoires are learned cultural creations, but they do not descend from abstract philosophy or take shape as a result of political propaganda; they emerge from struggle…. [P]eople in a given place and time learn to carry out a limited number of alternative collective-action routines, adapting each one to the immediate circumstances and to the reactions of antagonists, authorities, allies, observers, objects of their action, and other people somehow involved in the struggle….Thus, repertoires of contention are the established ways in which pairs of actors make and receive claims bearing on each other’s interest (Tilly 1995b: 26-27; see also, Tilly 1995a).

Here, he emphasizes that repertoires of contention are deeply cultural constructions consisting of specific collective action routines that contending groups have become familiar with during previous rounds of popular struggle (Tarrow 1996: 592). The number of known ways that challengers, authorities, and third parties can interact, however, is relatively small. Although contentious actors are always learning new action forms and adapting to changing circumstances, they do so within the wider context of a general repertoire, which remains relatively stable.

While Tilly acknowledges that individual creativity and collective agency play a role, he considers them marginal in comparison to cultural continuity and structural conditions. In his own words:

While contenders are constantly innovating, …they generally innovate at the perimeter of the existing repertoire rather than by breaking entirely with old ways….Durable innovations generally grow out of success, as other actors rapidly borrow, then institutionalize, a new form of action that visibly advances its users’ claims….Only rarely does one whole repertoire give way to another… (Tilly 1995b: 27-28).

In fact, his studies of France and Great Britain identify two “major accelerations of change” in “the basic repertoire of contention,” one during the seventeenth century, the other during the nineteenth century (Tilly 1986: 388, 11). The “old” repertoire was “parochial, bifurcated, and particular,” the “new” repertoire is “cosmopolitan, modular, and autonomous” (Tilly 1995a: 45-46; Tilly 1995b: 28). In Tilly’s view, ensuing rounds of contention have modified and extended the “new” repertoire (and the social movement form associated with it), but not produced a fundamentally new one. “The repertoire that crystallized in the nineteenth century,” as he wrote in The Contentious French, “prevails today” (Tilly 1986: 391). Like their historical predecessors, repertoires in the twentieth and twenty-first century are products of developments in capitalism, state building, and communication technology (Tilly 1986: 6; Tarrow 1996: 595; Della Porta and Diani 1999: 171).

Tilly’s invention represents an important advancement in political process theory, because it enables scholars to focus not only on how ordinary people suffer from structural transformations in their daily lives, but also on how they react to such fundamental changes through organized collective action. Furthermore, the repertoire concept allows Tilly to incorporate the cultural dimension of contention into his structuralist approach without falling prey to teleological reasoning or phenomenological individualism. By studying actual cases of interaction between oppressed groups, authorities, and bystander publics, he can analyze shifts in the concrete tools of political struggle without adopting a linear model of historical development or exaggerating the role of extraordinary leaders (Tilly 1984). The notion of the contentious repertoire, as Tarrow (1996: 592) has rightly observed, “is the most ambitious attempt we have to date to trace historically the changes in the character of collective action in connection with changes in society and politics.”

Although the repertoire concept has made many new insights into the history of contentious politics in France, Great Britain, and other western countries possible, some of its underlying assumptions and implications are problematic (e.g. Hanagan et al. 1997?). Tilly’s proposition that “the great change” in the French and British repertoire of contention took place during the nineteenth century, and that this “new” repertoire still prevails today in these particular countries, is certainly convincing (Tilly 1986: 390). But his argument is on shakier ground if it implies that no truly significant innovative repertoire has emerged anywhere after the nineteenth century. Does the fact that France and Great Britain have not witnessed fundamental changes in repertoire since the mid-1800s necessarily mean that such fundamental changes did not take place outside of Western Europe during the twentieth century? So far, moreover, Tilly has treated the ups and downs of the modern repertoire in France and Great Britain as “parallel developments”—that is, as parallel responses within each country to broad social processes such as capitalism and state formation. While he acknowledges that particular action forms or routines may cross national borders, therefore, Tilly does not consider the transnational “diffusion” of general repertoires. Affiliated political process scholars such as McAdam and Tarrow have similarly focused on the transnational diffusion of specific tactics or slogans rather than the transnational diffusion of contentious repertoires as a whole (e.g. McAdam and Rucht 1993; McAdam 1995; Tarrow 1998).

Although the authors of Dynamics of Contention claim that their latest interpretation of the repertoire is more dynamic than previous ones, they do not resolve the two important issues raised above. In fact, their current version of the repertoire is nearly identical to—and, consequently, not substantially less static than—the concept formulated by Charles Tilly in 1995.[2] They accentuate the significance of innovations within “inherited repertoires” and among various contending groups, but so did Tilly in Popular Contention in Great Britain. They note that “[r]epertoires evolve as a result of improvisation and struggle,” but so did Tilly in Mark Traugott’s Repertoires and Cycles of Collective Action (McAdam, Tarrow, and Tilly 2001: 49; Tilly 1995a: 41-42; Tilly 1995b: 26). I suggest, in contrast, that the case of the Gandhian repertoire, which emerged in South Africa and matured in India during the first half of the 1900s, does allow for a broader and more dynamic view of contentious repertoires. As the basic guide of the Indian independence movement and later—between 1955 and 1965—the American civil rights movement, this set of nonviolent collective action routines was arguably the most innovative, mobile, and significant contentious repertoire of the twentieth century (Fox 1989, 1997; Chabot 2002; Chabot and Duyvendak, forthcoming; Zunes et al. 1999?).

INVENTION DURING THE TWENTIETH CENTURY: THE GANDHIAN REPERTOIRE

Like its precursors in France and Great Britain, the Gandhian repertoire evolved in the context of major political struggle, moved considerably beyond existing forms of collective action, and resonated among an increasing number of activist groups in India and abroad. Although Gandhi was indisputably its author, the Gandhian repertoire was an invention created in the midst of collective experiments with nonviolent direct action during the Indian minority’s struggle for civil rights in South Africa and especially during the Indian independence movement (Fox 1989). Of course, the Gandhian repertoire was not the first repertoire of contention deployed to resist British rule. Since the end of the nineteenth century, two political camps had predominated in India: the “Moderates” in the Indian National Congress, who expressed their grievances through legitimate and conventional channels, and the “Extremists” among Hindu and Muslim nationalists, who tended toward anarchism and refused to rule out violent terrorism against the colonial government. Although Gandhi acknowledged the past contributions of these camps, his collective action methods were both more confrontational and mass-oriented than those of the Moderates and more committed to nonviolence and self-discipline than those of the Extremists. In contrast to familiar western forms of pacifism and passive resistance, moreover, the Gandhian repertoire was designed for pro-active, direct, and collective rebellion in the context of a social movement (van den Dungen in Kumar 1971: 43-63). Thus, by the time that Gandhi started getting involved in the Indian independence movement, his ideas and practices were as strange to Indians as to foreigners (Fox 1997: 69-70, 80). After guiding the first nationwide campaigns in India, though, the Gandhian repertoire inspired domestic groups that had previously remained on the sidelines, as well as activist networks in other parts of the world, to apply similar means of nonviolent insurgency—despite the fact that Gandhi regarded these initial efforts as failures (Chabot 2002; Chabot and Duyvendak, forthcoming; Scalmer 2000, 2002; Fox 1989, 1997).

Besides transcending previous forms of Indian resistance and western nonviolence, the Gandhian repertoire was also highly multifaceted and malleable. While Charles Tilly focuses primarily on action forms or “claim-making routines,” I suggest that the Gandhian repertoire incorporated organizational styles and discursive language as well (Tilly 1995a: 46; Clemens 1993, 1996; Steinberg 1995, 1999). These three dimensions were inextricably intertwined: discursive language often served to legitimate (or delegitimate) particular strategies (Amin 1995), while the choice of action forms and organizational styles frequently derived from discursive positions (Fox 1989; Parekh 1989). The Gandhian action forms ranged from simple everyday tasks in “ashrams” (or self-sufficient communes) to voluntary community service, from purification acts before public protest to participation in dramatic social movement campaigns and mass civil disobedience (Shridharani 1939; Gregg 1934; Bondurant 1971; Sharp 1973; Erikson 1969). The Gandhian repertoire’s organizational styles spanned the spectrum from formal and permanent organizations to informal and ad hoc associations. Gandhi stressed that each participating group had to be open towards supporters as well as critics; inclusive with regard to religious affiliation, status, ideology, and level of involvement; and strict about the steps preceding direct action and the rules of nonviolent behavior during direct action (Shridharani 1939; Bondurant 1971; Kumar 1971; Alexander 1969). And finally, its discursive language—as expressed through texts, rituals, and symbols—tried to overcome dichotomies that most Indian and foreign thinkers considered unassailable. It opposed British institutions and ideologies, but sought sympathy from British rulers and people; it highlighted religion and morality, but also endorsed pragmatic politics; it promoted emotions like love and pride, but also called for rational (“scientific”) experiments with hand spinning and collective action; it stressed the superiority of nonviolence, but also preferred violence over cowardice; and it recognized the need for strong leadership, but always highlighted the needs of the masses (Gandhi 1928; Parekh 1989; Iyer 1973; Dalton 1993). The content and combination of these three dimensions, moreover, were never “pure” or “ideal,” but incessantly adapted to internal and external conditions. They were constantly evolving products of actual collective struggle in India (and later in other countries), not inevitable outcomes of individual genius or cultural traditions (Fox 1989; Chabot 2002b [AST]).

Although each of its action forms, organizational styles, and discursive language was familiar in isolation, the Gandhian repertoire as a whole was foreign to Indians and Western people alike (Fox 1989). While nonviolent direct action was an old means of individual resistance with roots in Western pacifism and Indian traditions, the Gandhian style of nonviolent direct action on a mass scale was new. Thus, the Gandhian repertoire highlights the need for an extension of Tilly’s concept to allow for the historical analysis of this innovative and complex twentieth-century repertoire that originated outside of the West and was “diffusible” from the beginning. The next section depicts how the Gandhian repertoire evolved through various rounds of contentious interaction between challengers, authorities, and third parties in various parts of the world.

EMERGENCE AND DEVELOPMENT OF AN INNOVATIVE REPERTOIRE

Finding theoretical gaps in existing interpretations of the contentious repertoire is relatively easy. To make a persuasive case for an alternative approach, however, I need to add empirical and historical depth to my assertions.[3] The following discussion seeks to do so by tracing the Gandhian repertoire’s genealogy from the birth of satyagraha in Johannesburg to the emergence of a new contentious repertoire during the Indian nationalist movement; from the evolutionary peak symbolized by the Salt March to the path of decline entered during the Quit India movement. Instead of becoming increasingly definite or fixed, the content of—and relationships among—the Gandhian repertoire’s action forms, organizational styles, and discursive language never ceased developing in unexpected ways.

The Advent of Satyagraha in South Africa

It is September 11, 1906 and the Empire Theatre in Johannesburg is packed with Indian delegates from across Transvaal, one of South Africa’s largest provinces. Mr. Abdul Gani, the old Muslim businessman and chairman of the Transvaal British Indian Association, presides over the mass meeting, while Gandhi sits in the background waiting to present the crucial Fourth Resolution. When his turn comes, Gandhi gets up from his chair and addresses the crowd of 3,000:

In the event of the Legislative Council, the local Government, and the Imperial Authorities rejecting the humble prayer of the British Indian community of the Transvaal in connection with the Draft Asiatic Law Amendment Ordinance, this mass meeting of British Indians here assembled solemnly and regretfully resolves that, rather than submit to the galling, tyrannous, and un-British requirements laid down in the above Draft Ordinance, every British Indian in the Transvaal shall submit himself to imprisonment and shall continue so to do until it shall please His Most Gracious Majesty the King-Emperor to grant relief (CWMG 5: 338).

The audience is deeply moved by Gandhi’s solemn words, and several speakers rise to second his resolution calling for a collective struggle against the Ordinance.

One of the speakers, Sheth Haji Habib, also a prominent Muslim spokesman, goes even further and pledges, with God as his witness, that he will never submit to the humiliating Ordinance, inviting others to follow his example. Startled by this powerful declaration of dedication, Gandhi briefly ponders its implications before sharing his interpretation of Habib’s proposal with the Indian community:

I know that pledges and vows are, and should be, taken on rare occasions. A man who takes a vow every now and then is surely to stumble. But if I can imagine a crisis in the history of the Indian community of South Africa when it would be in the fitness of things to take pledges that crisis is surely now…. Although we are going to take the pledge in a body, no one should imagine that default on the part of one or many can absolve the rest from their obligation. Every one should fully realize his responsibility, then only pledge himself independently of others and understand that he himself must be true to his pledge even unto death, no matter what others do….We may have to go to jail, where we may be insulted. We may have to go hungry and suffer extreme heat or cold. Hard labour may be imposed upon us. We may be flogged by rude warders. We may be fined heavily and our property may be attached and held up to auction if there are only a few resisters left. Opulent today we may be reduced to abject poverty. We may be deported. Suffering from starvation and similar hardships in jail, some of us may fall ill and even die….But I can boldly declare, and with certainty, that so long as there is even a handful of men true to their pledge, there can only be one end to the struggle, and that is victory (CWMG 5: 334-336; Gandhi 1928: 98-100).

After explaining the profound meaning of such a pledge, Gandhi enthusiastically endorses Habib’s suggestion and promises that he himself will never violate his pledge. In response, all those present rise as one and, with upraised hands, take the pledge that with God as their witness they will not submit to the Ordinance if it becomes law.

Looking back almost twenty years later, Gandhi (1928: chapter XII) identified this moment, when 3,000 out of 13,000 Indians in the Transvaal spontaneously pledged resistance against the Asiatic Law Amendment Ordinance, as the actual birth of satyagraha, the Gandhian repertoire’s underlying concept (see also, Fox 1989: 139). Prior to the Johannesburg meeting, political activism by Gandhi and the Indian community in South Africa had consisted of moderate and elitist forms of “appeal” to the morality and common sense of adversaries (Swan 1985; van den Dungen 1971). The transition to “direct action” did not start until the Johannesburg meeting in 1906, which is why Gandhi, in retrospect, assigned so much symbolic value to the event. Part of the reason for this development was the content of the Asiatic Law Amendment Ordinance, a bill that required all Indians above the age of eight years to register his or her name with the Registrar of Asiatics and take out a certificate of registration. The Transvaal Indians considered registration humiliating, because it involved giving finger and thumb impressions, like a criminal. Moreover, every Indian who did not apply for registration before a certain date had to leave the province, while anyone who did not carry the certificate risked being fined or imprisoned (Gandhi 1928: 92-93). But while previously legislative initiatives with similar content had not caused a great stir among the Indian in South Africa, this time Gandhi and other leaders were able to convince fellow Indians that the Transvaal authorities had gone too far. Articles in the Indian Opinion moved beyond the rhetoric of courteous appeal by calling the ordinance “abominable” and even “criminal” (CWMG 5: 317-318). And when these outcries evoked widespread support within the Indian community, the leadership decided to hold a mass meeting on September 11, 1906 to propose resolutions and develop a more effective strategy for collective protest against the ordinance, by then popularly known as the “Black Act.”

Two months later, Gandhi wrote an article for Indian Opinion confirming that the Johannesburg meeting had fundamentally altered the Indian community’s perspective on collective protest:

We have sent petitions; made speeches; and we shall continue to do so. But…[p]eople do not have much faith in articles and speeches. Anyone can do that, they call for no courage. Deeds after all are better than words. All other things are unavailing, and no one is afraid of them. The only way therefore is to sacrifice oneself and take the plunge. We have much to do yet, no doubt of that (CWMG 5: 432).

The earliest opportunity for putting these words into practice was on July 1, 1907, the day that the Black Act took effect. After deciding to organize pickets at each permit office, Indian activists in Transvaal created the Passive Resistance Association and prescribed specific rules of behavior for participants in the nonviolent direct action campaign. These rules instructed participants to persuade Indians from entering the permit office without insulting them; to treat police officers respectfully, even when arrested or abused; and to obey the captain of their group (Gandhi 1928: 125). Although the political impact of this campaign was relatively minor, the fact that Indian activists adhered to the guidelines set by the Passive Resistance Association was encouraging.

While Gandhi was satisfied with the discipline and solidarity displayed during the pickets against the Black Act, he felt that the term “passive resistance” did not capture the originality of the South African Indians’ nonviolent form of protest. To solve this problem, he asked readers of Indian Opinion (the newspaper he edited) to come up with a Gujarati name for their new approach to collective action. Based on one of their suggestions, he finally decided that the word satyagraha came closest to expressing what he had in mind:

I have received one [suggestion] which is not bad, though it does not render the original in its full connotation. I shall, however, use it for the present. The word is sadagraha. I think satyagraha is better than sadagraha. “Resistance” means determined opposition to anything. The correspondent has rendered it as agraha [i.e. firmness or insistence]. Agraha in a right cause is sat or satya [i.e. Truth] agraha. The correspondent therefore has rendered “passive resistance” as firmness in a good cause. Though the phrase does not exhaust the connotation of the world “passive”, we shall use satyagraha … (CWMG 8: 80).

Gandhi told his English friends that the correct translation of satyagraha was not passive resistance, a weapon of the weak, but “soul force,” which involved love, nonviolence, and self-suffering by strong believers in truth (Gandhi 1928: 105-106). Thus, more than a year after the mass meeting in Johannesburg, Gandhi’s core concept had finally crystallized—not as a product of his own genius, but as a result of dialogue and collective action (Fox 1989).[4]

Another opportunity for translating the notion of satyagraha into collective action did not arise until January 10, 1908. That day Gandhi and other leaders of the Indian community appeared in court on the charge of disobeying the Black Act. To uphold “Truth in a right cause,” they all pled guilty and the Transvaal magistrate sentenced them to two months imprisonment. Two days later, more Indians refusing to obey the Black Act arrived at the jail, and after one week their number exceeded one hundred. Under pressure from the British public and media, General Smuts, South Africa’s leader, offered a settlement stating that if the Indians re-registered voluntarily, the Government of Transvaal would repeal the Black Act. On January 30, 1908, Gandhi consulted his fellow prisoners on this proposal, suggested a few changes in the settlement’s language, and traveled to Pretoria for his first conversation with General Smuts. That evening, the two men agreed on a compromise: Smuts accepted the conditions stipulated by Gandhi in exchange for the immediate release of all Indian satyagrahis (Gandhi 1928: 146-147).

Despite Gandhi’s support for the compromise, however, Smuts subsequently refused to repeal the Black Act and even added two anti-Indian pieces of legislation. In response to this breach of trust, Gandhi encouraged local Indians to resume their collective struggle. Internally, they started educating the community, holding meetings, propagating their cause in Indian Opinion, and collecting registration certificates. Externally, they presented a petition to the Transvaal Legislature and, finally, an ultimatum to the Government announcing that if it did not repeal the Black Act before August 16, 1908, the Indian minority would burn their certificates en masse (Gandhi 1928: 182-183). On August 16, the Satyagraha Committee held a mass meeting in Johannesburg and when the Government formally declined to meet the demands in the ultimatum, someone sparked a bonfire of more than 2,000 certificates, leading to the arrest of Gandhi and numerous other satyagrahis.

While Gandhi was becoming increasingly confident about the conceptual meaning and practical potential of satyagraha, however, the actual impact of the Indian minority’s collective efforts to repeal the Black Act remained minimal. In 1912, the South African authorities once again agreed to meet the Indian minority’s demands, but like before the government broke its pledge and failed to abolish the Black Act during the following year (Gandhi 1928: 244-245). To make matters worse, on March 14, 1913, a judge ruled that in the future only Christian marriages would be considered legal, thereby nullifying all Hindu and Muslim marriages among Indians in South Africa (CWMG 13: 444-446; CWMG 14: 61-62). Outraged by yet another anti-Indian measure, the Satyagraha Association’s leadership promptly decided to initiate a satyagraha campaign. It called on a small group of sixteen women from Tolstoy Farm near Johannesburg—the ashram or cooperative commune that Gandhi and his colleagues at Indian Opinion had founded in 1910—to disobey the court order by entering the Transvaal colony from Natal without permits and refusing to give their names and addresses to police officers. After doing so, the female satyagrahis crossed the border again and encouraged miners in Newcastle, a coal-mining center in Natal, to go on strike. Forced to react, the government ordered the police to use violent means for arresting these nonviolent women and sentenced them to three-month jail terms, causing a public outcry in South Africa, India, and Great Britain.

Meanwhile, Gandhi had gone to Newcastle to unify the striking miners and negotiate a settlement with the mine owners. When negotiations failed, Gandhi and the strikers joined an “army” of satyagrahis (including 2,037 men, 127 women, and 57 children) at the border between Natal and Transvaal, and on November 6, 1913, after Gandhi had instructed all participants to obey the rules of nonviolent behavior, this army embarked on the Great March from Charlestown, Natal to Volksrust, Transvaal, and with the Tolstoy Farm as final destination (CWMG 14: 462-463; Gandhi 1928: 444-446, 455-456). The South African authorities responded by arresting Gandhi three times in the next four days and sentencing him and several other leaders to three months in prison. The Great March continued, however, with one of Gandhi’s colleagues leading the way, until the government decided to disrupt the campaign by deporting the marchers back to Natal by train and forcing the miners to return to work (idem: 466-471). Incensed by such brutal repression, Indian laborers throughout South Africa went on strike, provoking yet more violent retaliation by government officials (Erikson 1969: 215).

Confronted with civil disobedience by the Indian minority, and with negative publicity at home and abroad, the South African government finally relented. In 1914, it passed the Indians Relief Bill, thereby officially validating Indian marriages and overturning the Black Act (CWMG 14: 493-496). The Indian community in South Africa accepted the settlement and Gandhi, in a letter to General Smuts, declared that the satyagraha movement against the Black Act was over (see also, CWMG 14: 203-208). Although the Indians Relief Bill only improved the legal standing of South African Indians, not their long-term social and political position, it represented an important symbolic victory for the protest method emerging from Johannesburg’s Empire Theatre in 1906.

In the midst of the Indian struggle for civil rights in South Africa, the early contours of the Gandhian repertoire became visible. In the South African laboratory, Gandhi and fellow activists experimented with forms of nonviolent direct action such as pickets, jail-going, strikes, and marches, and with modes of organization like the Natal Indian Congress, the Satyagraha Association, and the Tolstoy Farm ashram (Dalton 1993: 14-16; Kumar 1971; Erikson 1969). Moreover, inspired by concrete experiences with collective struggle, the Indian minority in South Africa helped invent the discursive concept that invested these tactics and institutions with new meaning (Parekh 1989; Nandy 1987). But while the campaigns in South Africa demonstrated the potential power of satyagraha, for Gandhi the real test was whether it could guide a nationwide movement against British rule in his home country. Eager to confront this challenge, he returned to India in 1915 and began preparing the soil.

The Formation of the Gandhian Repertoire in India

After arriving in India, Gandhi immediately founded the Satyagraha Ashram near Ahmedabad as a training center for nonviolent direct action (Andrews 1929: 101-111; Gandhi 1927). Gandhi traveled across the country to participate in public debates on Indian nationalism and learn more about the social, economic, cultural, and political environment, and in 1917 he started getting involved in small-scale campaigns against local authorities. He assisted the farmers of the Kheda district who demanded suspension of taxes on land revenue due to severe crop failures (Shridharani 1939: 87-89); he helped peasants in Champaran, Bihar resist exploitation by British landlords (Prasa, 1949: 24-29; Sharp 1960: 10-37); and in 1918 he joined a labor strike by mill workers in Ahmedabad (Shridharani 1939: 85-87; Bondurant 1958: 65-73; Fischer 1962; Erikson 1969). The first opportunity for a national satyagraha campaign, however, did not arise until 1919.

Previously, the Government of India had justified its repressive measures against indigenous terrorist groups and political extremism by emphasizing the need to support the war effort. In the wake of World War I, however, it had to develop new legislation to deal with insubordination at a time of peace. On January 18, 1919, therefore, based on recommendations by the Rowlatt Committee, it presented two bills that sought to retain the same authority to control Indian resistance as during the war and gain discretionary power to suppress revolutionary crime without due process of the law. Despite internal opposition from Indian members, the Imperial Legislative Council enacted the first Rowlatt Bill within a few months. Meanwhile, Indian nationalists had united in condemnation of these measures: Moderates felt betrayed for their loyalty during World War I, while Extremists naturally objected to the restrictions on their civil rights (Draper 1981: 26; Singh 1962: 18). Gandhi, on his part, stressed the malicious spirit behind the Rowlatt Bills and almost immediately called for a massive satyagraha campaign against them:

I consider the Bills to be an open challenge to us. If we succumb we are done for. If we may prove our word that the government will see an agitation such that they have never witnessed before, we shall have proved our capacity for resistance to arbitrary or tyrannical rule….For myself if the Bills were to be proceeded with, I feel that I can no longer render peaceful obedience to the laws of a power that is capable of such a devilish legislation as these two Bills, and I would not hesitate to incite those who think with me to join me in the struggle (CWMG 17: 280-281; quoted in Kumar 1971: 2-3).

On February 24, 1919, Gandhi and four ashram members signed a satyagraha pledge and informed Viceroy Chelmsford of their intentions (CWMG 17: 297-299; Bondurant 1971: 77). They founded an informal organization, the Satyagraha Sabha, and addressed the Indian population through the Bombay Chronicle and Young India, urging them to join their campaign and remain nonviolent (CWMG 17: 316-318). Gandhi, moreover, visited cities and villages in all corners of India, seeking public support for the nationalist cause and calling on all Indians to observe April 6 as a hartal, a day of “humiliation and prayer” in preparation for the nation-wide Rowlatt Satyagraha (CWMG 17: 343-344; see also, Kumar 1971: 1-4; Low 1971: 64-92). And finally, on March 11, he sent an ultimatum to the viceroy, requesting him to reconsider the bills before the struggle (CWMG 17: 327).

Despite Gandhi’s lack of political experience and organizational base, millions of Indians from all parts of the country and all layers of society responded to his call: on April 6, they closed their shops and limited their activities to signing pledges, praying, and fasting (Gandhi 1927: 414). After the hartal, moreover, Indian activists across the subcontinent challenged the Rowlatt Bills by selling prohibited literature, publishing an unregistered newspaper called Satyagrahi, breaking the salt tax law, and holding political meetings (Bondurant 1971: 79; Shridharani 1939: 125).[5] The British authorities’ reactions to these protests varied per province. The Lieutenant-Governor of Bombay, for instance, showed great restraint in handling the Indian satyagrahis. Michael O’Dwyer in the Punjab, in contrast, regarded Gandhian activism as a threat to British rule in India and endorsed the use of indiscriminate and brutal force against all demonstrators (Kumar 1971: 8).

After the hartal in Amritsar, therefore, O’Dwyer requested military reinforcement and on April 11, General Reginald Dyer and his garrison arrived in the Punjab city to prevent further unrest. On the afternoon of April 13, about twenty-thousand local activists defied O’Dwyer’s ban against political meetings and gathered in Jallianwala Bagh, an enclosed market place in Amritsar, to express their solidarity with the satyagraha movement. A few hours later, Dyer and his troops marched to Jallianwala Bagh and, without issuing a warning or instructing the crowd to disperse, the General ordered his men to fire at the demonstrators. After ten minutes, the soldiers had used 1650 rounds of ammunition, killed more than 500, and wounded another 1,000 peaceful protesters (Sayer 1992; Draper 1981; Fein 1977; Israel 1994). Following the massacre O’Dwyer imposed martial law throughout the Punjab, while Dyer issued a number of humiliating orders to punish the population of Amritsar for their defiance, with public flogging and the “Crawling Lane” as the most notorious penalties (Sayer 1992: 151-154; Bondurant 1971: 81). In the eyes of British officials and residents, Dyer’s actions were part of his duty and they widely lauded him as “the saviour of the Punjab” (Sayer 1992: 156, 167-168).

The Government of India, however, was aware of the impact that the killings in Amritsar could have on Indian nationalists outside of the Punjab and suppressed the spread of information about the event for nearly eight months by gagging the local press (Israel 1994: 11). Thus, when satyagraha leaders heard that Indian demonstrators had reacted violently to police brutality and started riots, they did not know the details about the atrocities in Amritsar. Gandhi was shocked by the lack of discipline among Indian demonstrators and, on April 18, he suspended the campaign against the Rowlatt Bills (Tinker [1979] 1998: 151). In public speeches and writings, he admitted to have made a “Himalayan miscalculation” by calling on people to engage in nonviolent direct action without ensuring their readiness beforehand. He later remarked in his autobiography:

I had called on the people to launch upon civil disobedience before they had thus qualified themselves for it, and this mistake seemed to me of Himalayan magnitude….I realized that before a people could be fit for offering civil disobedience, they should thoroughly understand its deeper implications. That being so, before restarting civil disobedience on a mass scale, it would be necessary to create a band of well-tried, pure-hearted volunteers who thoroughly understood the strict conditions of Satyagraha. They could explain these to the people, and by sleepless vigilance keep them on the right path (Gandhi 1927: 423).

Several months after the first nationwide satyagraha campaign had come to an abrupt end, news about the tragedy at Jallianwala Bagh gradually began to reach Indian nationalists (CWMG 18: 251-253). In October 1919, Gandhi went to the Punjab to serve on a committee investigating the matter and by February 1920 he and other Indian nationalists finally realized the full extent of British repression in Amritsar (Draper 1981: 199-203, 213).

When the cruelty of the “Punjab wrongs” had sunk in, Indian nationalists stopped seeking legislative reform within the existing political system and began preparing for widespread rebellion against British rule in India. Energized by this new sense of urgency, and by anti-British sentiments among Indian Muslims as well as Hindus, Gandhi announced the formation of a national non-cooperation movement in May 1920 and informed the British authorities of his plans. This time Gandhi sought and received the full support of established organizational structures like the Indian National Congress and the Pan-Islamic Khilafat movement (Low 1971: 299; Kumar 1971). Despite some opposition, he persuaded Congress members to promote swadeshi, the spinning wheel, and the Khilafat issue, and to purchase the Jallianwala Bagh garden as a symbol of Hindu-Muslim unity and national mourning (CWMG 19: 307). He spoke at major Khilafat movement meetings, where he urged Muslim activists to adhere to the principles of satyagraha, and defended their issues (CWMG 19: 141-142, 475-479, 488-490, 499-504). Moreover, before initiating this campaign, he called for a Satyagraha Week celebrating the one-year anniversary of the hartals on April 6 and commemorating the innocent Hindu and Muslim victims of the Amritsar massacre on April 13, 1920 (CWMG 19: 451, 486-488). And finally, he wrote a long letter to Viceroy Chelmsford giving his perspective on issues, outlining his plan for mass nonviolent resistance, and setting an ultimatum (CWMG 20: 413-416).

Buoyed by the solidarity and discipline demonstrated during Satyagraha Week, Gandhi instructed Indian activists to follow four progressive stages for withdrawing cooperation from British rule in India. The first involved the surrender of honorary titles and offices, the second invited government employees to relinquish their jobs, and the third stage called for the withdrawal of the police and the military. Finally, if these acts of noncooperation did not have the desired effect and participants remained nonviolent, satyagrahis would engage in mass civil disobedience by refusing to pay taxes, disregarding bans on nationalist literature, and breaking the government monopoly on salt production (CWMG 20: 286-289; Shridharani 1939: 128-129). In July 1920, the Noncooperation Committee issued a statement informing the Indian public of the movement’s guidelines and starting date (CWMG 21: 13) and on August 1 the nation-wide noncooperation campaign started with a hartal, massive surrender of titles and honorary posts, and mass meetings. In the following weeks, the Noncooperation Committee urged rich people to stop taking out government loans, poor people to discontinue petty service to the local authorities, lawyers to suspend their practices in court, students to boycott government schools, civil servants to resign their posts, and politicians to leave the legislative councils. It also invited the Indian public to boycott foreign goods, buy indigenous products, abstain from alcohol and drugs, stimulate hand spinning and hand weaving, and use hand-spun and hand-woven cloth (CWMG 21: 13; Shridharani 1939: 127-128; Alexander 1969: 40).

The sheer number of people participating in the non-cooperation movement was impressive and clearly visible. Back in 1919, Gandhi had designed a special cap, made of cheap homespun cotton, as a symbol of national unity and opposition to British rule. From 1920 onwards, millions of Indians from all castes, cultures, and religions began wearing this white “Gandhi cap” to denote their support of Gandhi and Congress. Besides subversive headwear, moreover, many Indians (including traditional Congress leaders) donned white khadi (i.e., handspun Indian cotton) outfits to signify their support of Indian textile manufacturers and their aversion to British imports (Tarlo 1996: 62-93). But while its symbolic achievements were significant, the non-cooperation campaign’s practical results were disappointing. In spite of Gandhi’s diligent efforts, relatively few educated Indians gave up their privileged positions within the Government of India. The Indian peasants and villagers, on their part, were highly excited but unable to do much more than shout “Mahatma Gandhi ki jai” (i.e. “victory to Mahatma Gandhi”) (Alexander 1969: 40). Moreover, the imperial Government had learned its lesson from the Amritsar tragedy and displayed a great deal of restraint in the face of widespread nonviolent direct action. Unlike in 1919, it managed to abstain from violent repression and avoid making martyrs of nationalist leaders (Low 1971: 298-323).

At the start of 1922, after the annual session of Congress in Ahmedabad, Gandhi announced that the non-cooperation movement would soon proceed to the fourth stage in the province of Bardoli (CWMG 26: 51-54). But then, on February 4, a crowd of 2,000 villagers and National Volunteers attacked and burned government buildings at Chauri Chaura in Gorakhpur district, killing the officials trapped inside (idem: 314; Amin 1995). When Gandhi heard about this horrible incident on February 8, he condemned it and quickly suspended the non-cooperation movement with a Congress Working Committee resolution on February 12 (CWMG 26: 138-142, 177-183; see also, Guha 1989; Amin 1995). On March 10, government officials arrested Gandhi without causing much of a stir among the Indian people; soon afterwards he began serving a six-year jail sentence for his role in the rebellion (Low 1971: 316-317).

Thus both the Rowlatt satyagraha and the non-cooperation movement ended prematurely due to violence perpetrated by Indian demonstrators. Yet despite these failures, the two collective action campaigns contributed positively to the development of the Gandhian repertoire. The early contours in South Africa had evolved into a distinct guide for engaging in large-scale nonviolent direct action—a guide that incorporated insights from western philosophy and Indian traditions, but in a unique and innovative way (Fox 1989). The fact that the Gandhian repertoire surfaced during the national struggles between 1919 and 1922, however, did not mean that it became less malleable or multifaceted. If anything, its action forms, organizational styles, and discursive language grew more versatile and more adaptable to the rapidly changing circumstances in British India following World War I.

The action forms applied during the Rowlatt satyagraha represented a continuation of the ones implemented during the satyagraha campaigns in South Africa. Peaceful tactics like selling prohibited literature, publishing unregistered newspapers, ignoring the salt laws, and holding illegal meetings still targeted legislative reform within the existing political system (van den Dungen 1971: 43-63). Ironically, what made this event exceptional was that Gandhi suspended it at the first sign of sustained unruliness among Indian activists.[6] Occurring after information about the Amritsar massacre became available, the non-cooperation movement, in contrast, unambiguously tried to undermine the legitimacy and future prospects of British rule in India. The typical protest methods of this campaign—rescind government loans, halt services for local authorities, cease participation in the court system, quit civil servant jobs, leave legislative councils, boycott British products, buy domestic goods, abstain from alcohol, wear hand-spun cloth—aimed at sparking widespread, persistent, and nonviolent rebellion against the contemporary power structure.

As the action forms grew increasingly radical and anti-systemic, the organizational styles also evolved. During the Rowlatt campaign, the Satyagraha ashram in Ahmedabad, the Satyagraha Sabha (an ad hoc organization), and a wide array of Hindu nationalist and Pan-Islamic associations served as the institutional infrastructure guiding mass protest. Leaders and participants followed four steps before initiating nonviolent direct action: 1) negotiation, 2) agitation and demonstration, 3) ultimatum, and 4) group preparation and self-purification (Bondurant 1971: 40; Shridharani 1939: 5-14). Gandhi and his associates started by signing the satyagraha pledge, informing the British authorities of their intentions, and giving them a chance for a peaceful settlement; they then raised consciousness through mass meetings in all parts of the country and distributed an open letter to the Indian people, encouraging them to sign the satyagraha pledge and obey the rules of behavior; next, Gandhi sent a letter to the Viceroy announcing the date that nonviolent direct action would start; and finally, Indians across the subcontinent held a hartal to contemplate the implications of satyagraha and pray. When these precautions failed to prevent internal violence, Gandhi emphasized the need to train an army of volunteers in crowd control before embarking on another campaign. Prior to the non-cooperation movement, therefore, he helped found the Noncooperation Committee and ensured the support of formal and national organizational structures such as the Indian National Congress and the Khilafat movement—in addition to the existing base of Gandhian ashrams and informal associations. Moreover, to test the mood of the Indian people and avoid unrest, he and other leaders not only followed the usual preliminary steps, but also called for a Satyagraha Week. The deplorable incidents in Chauri Chaura and elsewhere happened despite such preventative measures, not due to a lack of them.

Both the action forms and organizational styles were reciprocally and inextricably related to the Gandhian repertoire’s discursive language. Even before 1919, Gandhi’s statements and gestures indicated that speeches by prominent Indian nationalists and the accommodating tactics of the Indian National Congress did not suffice; only mass action involving all layers of Indian society could achieve the goals of self-government and freedom. For Gandhi, therefore, it was the malicious spirit of the Rowlatt Bills that upset him most, not the technical details of the proposed legislation. By focusing on this moral aspect, he was able to mobilize the majority of Indians to participate in a social movement rather than just oppose British rule through lofty rhetoric and elitist forms of politics. When strategic and organizational precautions failed to prevent indigenous outbursts of violence, however, Gandhi was the first to take responsibility and describe his decision to initiate satyagraha as a “Himalayan miscalculation.” Learning from previous mistakes, he and fellow satyagrahis put more emphasis on symbolic efforts to maintain solidarity and discipline during the non-cooperation movement: they promoted swadeshi and the spinning wheel to stress the economic plight of poor Indians, and they highlighted the Khilafat issue and the purchase of Jallianwala Bagh to stimulate Hindu-Muslim as well as national unity. Moreover, by stimulating people of all ranks and beliefs to wear the Gandhi cap and khadi clothing, they further dramatized the strength of their numbers, the harmony among Indian nationalists, and the vulnerability of the British Empire. But the moment that Indian activists in Chauri Chaura broke their satyagraha pledge and attacked government officials, Gandhi swallowed his pride and condemned their actions.

The Gandhian Repertoire’s Zenith in India

During his years in jail—reduced from six to two years due to illness—Gandhi had ample time to consider the weaknesses of his collective action repertoire. He decided that although Indian nationalist leaders (himself included) had frequently referred to the plight of rural masses in their speeches and writings, they had not worked hard enough to solve peasants’ concrete problems. After leaving prison, therefore, he spent the remaining years of his sentence touring the villages of India and implementing his so-called “constructive program” rather than concentrating on more visible political activities (Alexander 1969: 43-44). For Gandhi and fellow satyagrahis, though, the constructive program was not a substitute for—or a retreat from—civil disobedience, but an integral part of it (CWMG 81: 374). The constructive program was essential before, after, as well as during nonviolent direct action campaigns.

The Gandhian constructive program was not a dogmatic blueprint with fixed objectives, but an open-ended and evolving document. It stressed that political and community leaders needed to go into the villages to promote: the use of the spinning wheel and khadi, Hindu-Muslim and communal unity, prohibition and recovery from alcoholism, and the removal of untouchability by the Hindu population. Hand spinning enabled poor peasants to improve economic conditions by themselves instead of relying exclusively on government assistance. The key to religious harmony was mutual respect and tolerance at the grassroots level, not pacts between leaders at the elite level. Preventing alcohol abuse required local knowledge about its destructive effects as well as prohibitive national legislation. And finally, removing the blight of untouchability necessitated a change of heart and spirit as much as awareness in the heads and minds of Hindus (CWMG 71: 244-245).

The remaining elements of the Gandhian constructive program were less prominent in the contemporary situation, but no less important in the long run. Besides hand spinning, other village industries could also play a significant role in uplifting India’s rural population, whereas village sanitation was equally crucial for a healthy and productive community. Gandhi also highlighted the need for new and improved basic education, based on practical activities and knowledge, to provide children with usable skills (Alexander 1969: 101-103); and for better adult education to encourage social and political participation among all community members—not just among highly-educated, middle-class Indians. Such constructive work was only possible if the involvement of women increased and became an integral part of the social and political agenda. They were particularly essential in educating rural people about health and hygiene, because an unhealthy population could not contribute to national independence. To prepare for life after British rule, the Gandhian program also called for the propagation of a national language (Rashtrabhasha) and the cultivation of love for local languages. And finally, Gandhi stressed the need for a minimum level of economic equality and material resources (CWMG 71: 111-114).

After more than four years of hands-on constructive work in villages, Gandhi was more confident than ever that the Indian people were ready for mass civil disobedience and nonviolent direct action. During his sabbatical, moreover, extremist Indian nationalists, such as Subhas Chandra Bose, had gained considerable popularity among the Indian population (Bose and Bose 1997; Hutchins 1973: 133). By the end of the 1920s, therefore, Gandhi realized that another satyagraha campaign was not just feasible, but also necessary to prevent widespread violence. Sharing the Indian population’s anger about the Simon Commission’s report in 1928 (CWMG 45: 68; CWMG 47: 349-350), which recommended toothless political reforms instead of fundamental changes, he drafted a resolution that called for “swaraj” and “complete independence” through mass civil disobedience (CWMG 48: 161-162). On January 26, 1930, the entire country celebrated Purna Swaraj (i.e., Complete Independence) Day; people in villages and towns throughout India took the pledge of independence, hoisted the national flag, and held peaceful demonstrations and solemn ceremonies.

After much contemplation, Gandhi decided that the campaign’s primary symbolic target would be the Salt Tax, and announced that he, accompanied by eighty satyagrahis (Weber 1997: 490-496), would march to the Dandi sea and violate the law by picking up salt. In Young India, he revealed the main reason for attacking the British monopoly on Indian salt:

There is no article like salt outside water by taxing which the State can reach even the starving millions, the sick, the maimed and the utterly helpless. The tax constitutes therefore the most inhuman poll tax that the ingenuity of man can device….Salt production like cotton growing has been centralized for the sake of sustaining the inhuman monopoly…the necessary consequence of salt monopoly was the destruction, i.e. closing down of salt works in thousands of places where the poor people manufactured their own salt.

The illegality is in a Government that steals the people’s salt and makes them pay heavily for the stolen article. The people, when they become conscious of their power, will have every right to take possession of what belongs to them (CWMG 48: 350-351).

Unlike in the past, moreover, he declared that this time the satyagraha campaign would continue despite outbursts of violence, until British authorities agreed to meet Congress’s demands or grant India independence (CWMG 48: 348). Like before, Gandhi’s appeal to his opponent (by now Viceroy Irwin) was open and straightforward. First, on January 30, he publicly identified eleven specific objectives: total prohibition of alcohol, reduction of the exchange rate, reduction of the land revenue by at least 50%, abolition of the salt tax, reduction of military expenditure by at least 50%, reduction of top civil servants’ salaries, acceptance of a protective tariff on foreign cloth, passage of the Coastal Traffic Reservation Bill,[7] discharge of all political prisoners, abolition of the Criminal Investigation Department (C.I.D.), and distribution of licenses to use fire arms for self-defense (CWMG 48: 271).[8] Then, in his letter to the British leader, he not only set an ultimatum, but also suggested ways to avert nonviolent direct action (CWMG 48: 362-367).

When Viceroy Irwin ignored his appeal, Gandhi once again published a satyagraha pledge (CWMG 48: 485-486) and the rules of nonviolent behavior, urging individual participants to harbor no anger, suffer the opponent’s anger, avoid retaliations in word or deed, submit to arrest or confiscation of one’s property voluntarily, and protect officials from insults and attack. He advised prisoners to behave courteously towards prison officials, observe prison rules, accept clean food, reject special treatment, and abstain from fasting. He instructed groups of satyagrahis to obey orders from their leaders, appeal to higher authorities in case of disagreements, and expect no maintenance of dependents. And finally, he warned Indian activists to prevent communal conflict where possible, assist only the party that is demonstrably in the right, and stay out of processions that would “wound the religious susceptibilities of any community” (CWMG 48: 340-342).

On the announced date, March 12, at 6:30 a.m., Gandhi and eighty well-prepared satyagrahis began their 241-mile journey to the Dandi coast. Along the way, they encouraged local peasants, laborers, and leaders to prepare for mass civil disobedience after illegally making salt on April 6. To their surprise, the first group of marchers reached its destination on April 5 without any arrests. Gandhi expressed his appreciation for the government’s mild treatment, but remained dubious about its intentions (CWMG 49: 12-13). The next day, at exactly 6:30 a.m., Gandhi scooped a handful of sand and water from the sea and extracted a tiny amount of salt, thereby breaking the Salt Act and calling on the rest of the country to do the same. Between April 6 and 13, during National Week, people throughout the subcontinent began digging salt (from the sea or from inland deposits), selling salt on the streets, initiating hartals, attending mass meetings, joining parades, boycotting foreign cloth and promoting swadeshi, withdrawing from government jobs and schools, and picketing liquor shops and opium dens. The police reacted with gruesome tactics like random beatings, driving nails into the soles of activists’ feet, pouring boiling saline water over bodies, and shooting demonstrators in the back, and arrested many prominent Congress leaders throughout the country—but not Gandhi himself (Sharp 1960: 114). Despite such brutal repression, most participants in satyagraha campaigns remained surprisingly disciplined and peaceful. Unlike in 1922, instances of internal violence in places such as Calcutta, Poone, and Karachi were sporadic and impulsive, not organized or deliberate (CWMG 49: 39-42, 52-53, 147-149; Sharp 1960: 89-114).

After four weeks of nationwide civil disobedience, Gandhi wrote another letter to the Viceroy on May 4, announcing the Indian independence movement’s intention to capture the salt works at Dharasana (CWMG 49: 260). The next night, the British government in India finally arrested Gandhi and incarcerated him without trial. The following day, Indians across the country held hartals and demonstrations to express their support of the satyagraha leader, without becoming violent. Indians and sympathizers throughout the world read about Gandhi’s imprisonment in the newspapers and sent messages to Viceroy Irwin and British Prime Minister urging them to meet the Indian people’s demands (Sharp 1960: 123).

With Gandhi in jail, other Congress members took over the leadership of the satyagraha movement and continued with preparations for the salt raids. On May 12, groups of volunteers started marching to Dharasana, but initially the police was able to force them to retreat. On May 21, a group of 2,500 volunteers, led by the famous poetess Mrs. Sarojini Naidu, refused to obey police instructions and continued walking toward the salt works (Sharp 1960: 135-147; Chicago Daily News, May 14, 1930: 1f). Webb Miller, an American journalist, described the horrific scenes that follow:

Suddenly, at the word of command, scores of native police rushed upon the advancing marchers and rained blows on their heads with their steel-shod lathis. Not one of the marchers even raised an arm to fend off the blows. They went down like ten-pins. From where I stood I heard the sickening whacks of the clubs on unprotected skulls. The waiting crowd of watchers groaned and sucked in their breaths in sympathetic pain at every blow.

Those struck down fell sprawling, unconscious or writhing with pain with fractured skulls or broken shoulders. In two or three minutes the ground was quilted with bodies. Great patches of blood widened on their white clothes. The survivors without breaking ranks silently and doggedly marched on until struck down. When every one of the first column had been knocked down, stretcher-bearers rushed up unmolested by the police and carried off the injured to a thatched hut which had been arranged as a temporary hospital.

Then another column formed while the leaders pleaded with them to retain their self-control. They marched slowly towards the police. Although everyone knew that within a few minmutes he would be beaten down, perhaps killed, I could detect no signs of wavering or fear….The police rushed out and methodically and mechanically beat down the second column. There was no fight, no struggle: the marchers simply walked forward until struck down.

Finally the police became enraged by the non-resistance, sharing, I suppose, the helpless rage…for not fighting back. They commenced savagely kicking…in the abdomen and testicles….Hour after hour stretcher-bearers carried back a stream of inert, bleeding bodies (Miller, Chicago Daily News, May 22, 1930: 2, 193ff).

These words reached audiences throughout the world and their criticism of British rule in India grew stronger and louder (Sharp 1960: 141-142, 151). During the following weeks, satyagrahis initiated more salt raids at Dharasana, despite Naidu’s arrest, while the civil disobedience movement continued in other parts of India despite savage police assaults.

After several rounds of negotiations between Congress leaders and the Viceroy, the Salt March campaign ended in 1931. On India’s unofficial Independence Day, January 26, Irwin released imprisoned satyagraha leaders and on March 5, following a few personal meetings, Irwin and Gandhi signed a pact calling for the conclusion of the civil disobedience movement in exchange for constructive dialogue—as equal parties—about the future of India (Gazette of India Extraordinary, March 5, 1931; CWMG 51: 207-212; Sharp 1960: 213-225).

In September of the same year, Indian representatives traveled to Great Britain for the Round Table Conference to discuss Indian self-government. But once again, the British government broke its promise and failed to take India’s independence seriously (Alexander 1969: 71-82). Soon after his return, the British authorities in India incarcerated Gandhi and when they released him in 1933, he retired from mainstream politics, resigned his membership of Congress, toured the villages, and focused on constructive work—just as he had done a decade earlier (Alexander 1969: 90-106).

Although the Gandhian repertoire did not achieve its fundamental political aim, Indian independence, it reached new heights during the Salt March campaign of 1930 and 1931—heights that it would never reach again. For the first time, satyagraha involved anti-systemic rebellion by the entire tapestry of Indian society without causing serious internal violence (Hutchins 1973: 68); for the first time, it translated suffering at the hands of the government’s police forces into worldwide and sustained public sympathy; and for the first time, it was able to mold external conditions in its favor and produce victory (although the victory turned out to be a Phyrric one). In short, during these years, the malleable and multifaceted qualities of the Gandhian repertoire enabled collective action that was moral, disciplined, and effective. This unprecedented power did not derive from one particularly groundbreaking action form, organizational style, or discursive argument. Instead, it resulted from an accumulative process of trial and error as well as from a unique way of combining and implementing familiar routines.

Many of the Salt March campaign’s action forms had emerged earlier, either in South Africa or India. Breaking the salt laws, boycotting foreign cloth, refusing cooperation with government institutions, organizing pickets at shops selling intoxicating products, and participating in mass marches were tactics that Indian activists had grown accustomed to over the years. One new aspect of this event, though, was that the constructive program represented an integral rather than a marginal part of the Gandhian repertoire. Consequently, community work in areas such as hand spinning, religious harmony, alcohol abuse, untouchability, village development, practical education, language, and female participation was no less important than more dramatic means of nonviolent protest, even during direct action campaigns. The incessant waves of raids on the salt depots—first at Dharasana, later also elsewhere—represented another innovative addition to the Gandhian repertoire of action forms.

The organizational styles applied during these years both facilitated and emanated from collective struggle. By instigating satyagraha with a small group of faithful marchers deeply steeped in the ashram way of life, Gandhi tightly controlled the first phase of civil disobedience. Unlike during the noncooperation movement, Congress members initially served to maintain discipline among the masses and later, after his arrest, replaced Gandhi at the forefront of direct action (Kane 1944). The Salt March campaign evolved according to the same steps as previous campaigns: negotiation, agitation and demonstration, ultimatum, and group preparation. Indian leaders shared their objectives and strategies with British authorities, and left room for resolving issues before civil disobedience. Activists took part in the Purna Swaraj Day and the National Week to communicate their intentions to the widest possible audience. Gandhi wrote Viceroy Irwin several letters to indicate when events would occur and what he could do to prevent them. And finally, Gandhians ensured the readiness of the Indian population by developing even more extensive and specific rules of behavior, and encouraging hands-on involvement in constructive work before participating in nonviolent direct action.

The Gandhian repertoire’s discursive language during this event justified and set the stage for particular action forms and organizational styles. It continued to stress the importance of wearing khadi as a symbol of the national unity within India and the legitimacy of the nationalist movement. It also broke new ground with the Purna Swaraj resolution and the choice of the salt tax as primary target. Gandhi’s interpretations of and statements on the declaration of “Complete Independence” and the British monopoly on Indian salt were more radical and explicitly anti-British Empire than ever before (Sharp 1960: 93). Moreover, Gandhi made clear that—contrary to the Rowlatt campaign and the noncooperation movement—he would not suspend the Salt March campaign, even if the Indian population unexpectedly reverted to violence (idem: 117). In the contemporary climate, he argued, abrupt cancellation of satyagraha would only improve the position of extremist forces within India and lead to larger-scale destruction (Hutchins 1973: 138).

The Origins of the Gandhian Repertoire’s Decline in India

As had become customary, satyagrahis returned to their constructive work in the Indian villages after the Salt March campaign (Alexander 1969: 90-106). But when World War II broke out in September 1939, Congress leaders publicly stated that they could only support the British Empire and Allied forces in return for national independence following the war (CWMG 76: 430-431, 433-438). As soon as it became clear that the British government and the viceroy (by now Lord Linlithgow) refused to make such a promise, Gandhi organized a series of individual disobedience campaigns, leading to the arrest of devoted Gandhians such as Vinoba Bhave and prominent political figures like Jawaharlal Nehru (CWMG 80: 27, 358-359). By May 1941, the authorities had imprisoned more than 2,500 activists, despite the fact that no mass demonstrations had taken place (Alexander 1969: 110). Ignoring British officials’ efforts to negotiate their way out of the conflict, the Congress Working Committee then passed a resolution on July 14, 1942 that called for the immediate withdrawal of colonial rule. If its plea went unanswered, Congress would embark on another civil disobedience campaign under the leadership of Gandhi (CWMG 83: 445-447).

At the request of Congress, Gandhi drafted instructions for “civil resisters” and developed plans for a hartal, disobedience of the salt tax, lines of command, the role of students, and the rules of behavior. Besides these familiar precautionary measures, his draft also outlined how to settle the constitution after British withdrawal, stressed the autonomy of individual Indians, and raised the possibility of refusing to pay land tax (CWMG 83: 169-172). A few days later, on August 8, 1942, the All-India Congress Committee (AICC) in Bombay endorsed and ratified the Quit India Resolution written by Gandhi:

The Committee resolves…to sanction, for the vindication of India’s inalienable right to freedom and independence, the starting of a mass struggle on non-violent lines on the widest possible scale, so that the country might utilize all the nonviolent strength it has gathered during the last twenty-two years of peaceful struggle….The Committee appeals to the people of India to face the dangers and hardships that will fall to their lot with courage and endurance, and to hold together under the leadership of Gandhiji and carry out his instructions as disciplined soldiers of Indian freedom. They must remember that nonviolence is the basis of this movement. A time may come when it may not be possible to issue instructions or for instructions to reach our people, and when no Congress committees can function. When this happens, every man and woman who is participating in this movement must function for himself or herself within the four corners of the general instructions issued. Every Indian who desires freedom and strives for it must be his own guide urging him on along the hard road where there is no resting place and which leads ultimately to the independence and deliverance of India (CWMG 83: 454).

In his speech at the AICC meeting, Gandhi formally accepted the leadership of the Quit India campaign, pledged that “we shall either free India or die in the attempt; we shall not live to see the perpetuation of our slavery,” and encouraged India to adopt a new mantra: “do or die!” (CWMG 83: 197).

The next morning the police arrested hundreds of prominent nationalist leaders throughout the subcontinent, including Gandhi, and imprisoned them without trial. Although his arrest took him by surprise, Gandhi had prepared the Indian population for such a situation: “Let every man and woman live every moment of his or her life hereafter in the consciousness that he or she eats or lives for achieving freedom and will die, if need be, to attain the goal” (Tendulkar 1962, volume VI: 161; see also CWMG 83: 170). The remaining Congress members came together in Bombay and formulated an action program based on Gandhi’s plans. Meanwhile, however, younger and more extremist Indian groups had reacted to events by forming an underground movement aimed at undermining the entire apparatus of British rule in India. Participants in this “spontaneous revolution,” which lasted about four months, destroyed government property, burned public institutions, demolished lines of communication, and tore up the rail system—all the while shouting “Gandhiji-ki-jai” [Victory to Gandhi] or “Swaraj Ho Gaya” [Independence has come] (Hutchins 1973: 246, 217-281; Alexander 1969: 107-124).

Obviously, the Gandhian repertoire did not prescribe the violent eruptions that took place at the end of 1942. Afterwards, however, Gandhi directed most of the blame to the government, which had prevented Indian satyagrahis from exerting a restraining influence. Although he still condemned cowardly violence and preferred courageous nonviolence, he condoned violence as a final resort against a criminal colonial system by those unable to remain nonviolent (Hutchins 1973: 202, 279). But when the underground movement had run its course, Gandhi (who was still in jail) regained control of the situation by announcing a twenty-one day fast on February 10, 1943 (CWMG 83: 282-285, 293-294). Through this individual application of satyagraha, he symbolically held the government and particularly the viceroy responsible for the turmoil, ended the need for further mass protest, and reunited the various groups of Indian nationalists behind a common goal: independence. Following his hunger strike, British officials finally recognized that they had no other choice but to quit India (Hutchins 1973: 290).

In the second half of the 1940s, as the long-awaited moment of national liberation came closer, the influence of Gandhi and the Gandhian repertoire declined. Nehru took over as leader of India and emphasized power politics, economic modernization, and bureaucratic centralization instead of nonviolent action or constructive work in the villages. While the country celebrated independence on August 15, 1947, therefore, Gandhi prayed and fasted in private, worried about the effects of Partition (CWMG 96: 229-235; Alexander 1969: 155-159; Fischer 1962: 352). Although another one of his fasts temporarily stopped riots between Hindus and Muslims in Calcutta, the unrest continued in other cities. Realizing that his appeals for communal harmony fell on deaf ears, he once again began a fast on January 12, 1948 to encourage the Indian population to end the fighting and change its attitudes, and to urge Hindu and Muslim leaders to find a solution (idem: 355-356). After about a week, representatives of both communities signed a declaration that satisfied Gandhi and persuaded him to break his fast (CWMG 98: 223-262; Sharp 1960: 227-289). The national spirit of reconciliation did not last long, though: on January 25, after a prayer meeting, Gandhi himself became a victim of extremism when Nathuram Vinayak Godse, a Hindu fundamentalist, killed him for his support of Muslims and unorthodox views of Hinduism (Fischer 1962: 368; Alexander 1969: 175).

Ironically, the Gandhian repertoire’s most visible political results materialized after its role in India had already started to decrease. Although Gandhi initiated the Quit India campaign, the “spontaneous revolution” that emerged after August 9, 1942 evolved without guidance from the action forms, organizational styles, and discursive language associated with satyagraha. Despite the fact that Gandhi carefully specified the required tactics, institutions, and symbols for engaging in mass civil disobedience and nonviolent direct action, the Indian activists who took charge of events after his arrest applied their own methods and formulated their own rhetoric. As India moved toward independence, moreover, Indian politicians and British rulers basically ignored Gandhi’s opposition to Partition and a separate Muslim state. Rather than relying on the Gandhian repertoire, these leaders reverted to traditional forms of political bargaining and constructed states driven by military and material power. With organized Gandhian action out of favor in his own country, Gandhi shifted to defensive and individual satyagraha campaigns—particularly fasts—to persuade fellow Indians to cease communal violence (Sharp 1960: 227-289). By this time, India was clearly no longer an appropriate setting for collective applications of the Gandhian repertoire. Between 1955 and 1965, however, the Gandhian repertoire would continue its development as the guide of another social movement in a very different part of the world: the civil rights movement in the United States (Chabot 2001, 2002a, 2002b; Chabot and Duyvendak 2003, forthcoming; Fox 1997; Kapur 1992).

CONCLUSIONS

My empirical analysis illustrates the specific dynamics of the Gandhian repertoire’s rise and fall, and points to the relevance of my propositions. First, it shows that the satyagraha concept was not a product of Gandhi’s individual genius or Indian culture, but of collective action by the Indian minority in South Africa. While Gandhi was the symbolic author, Gandhian action forms, organizational styles, and discursive language evolved through interaction between activists, political opponents, and third parties. Secondly, it highlights that distinctly Gandhian ideas and practices did not crystallize into a repertoire until the nationwide Rowlatt campaign and the non-cooperation movement in India. Although both these events ended prematurely, they demonstrated that the Gandhian repertoire represented a viable alternative to existing forms of political protest and was applicable in more than one geographical environment. Thirdly, my historical material depicts how miscalculations in the early 1920s unexpectedly led to highly successful implementations of the Gandhian repertoire in the early 1930s. During the Salt March campaign, the action forms, organizational styles, and discursive language positively reinforced each other, while the constructive program and direct action sides of the Gandhian repertoire kept each other in balance. Finally, however, my empirical findings suggest that political victories do not necessarily solidify the legitimacy of a contentious repertoire. After the impressive results of the Salt March campaign, the Quit India event unexpectedly set in motion the Gandhian repertoire’s decline in India as extremist leaders ignored Gandhi’s warnings and promoted violent retaliation against British repression. Following the achievement of independence in 1947, moderate representatives of Indian National Congress perpetuated this downward trend by denying the practical relevance of the Gandhian repertoire in the contemporary political environment.

What are this article’s implications for future research on contentious repertoires? I certainly do not want to imply that contentious politics scholars should ignore Tilly’s concept in studying the history of collective action in European countries or the United States. The relational approach proposed by the authors of Dynamics of Contention, moreover, is in many ways an improvement over the “classic” social movement agenda they helped found (McAdam, Tarrow, Tilly 2001: 14-20). I do suggest, however, that my interpretation of the Gandhian repertoire opens new avenues for analyzing whether contemporary activists are (or were) capable of reinventing the Gandhian repertoire or inventing another new repertoire of collective action. The fact that such an innovation requires a great deal of intellectual labor and practical experimentation does not mean that it is impossible—even in the hostile climate created by the current “war on terrorism.” I also urge fellow contentious politics scholars to keep in mind that inventions of new repertoires, or reinventions of the Gandhian repertoire, need not originate in “the heartland of western democracies” but may first emerge in the context of non-western social movements. European and American activists, in other words, may learn from the insights and experiences of activists in Mexico, Brazil, South Africa, or India as well as vice versa.

REFERENCES

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[1] See Tilly 1978; McAdam 1982; Tarrow 1994; Kriesi, Koopmans, Duyvendak, and Giugni 1995; and McAdam, McCarthy, and Zald 1996 for representative work in the “classical” political process tradition.

[2] Which is not to say that I found Tilly’s interpretation of the repertoire in Popular Contention in Great Britain (1995) static, to begin with. On the contrary, I was taken by surprise when McAdam, Tarrow, and Tilly (2001: 48) declared that they were putting the “static” concept of repertoire in motion.

[3] I rely on Gandhi’s own writings (esp. Gandhi 1927, 1928) and collected works (hereafter, CWMG) as primary sources. Unlike most historians, however, I use them to analyze the development of the Gandhian repertoire in its relational setting, not to capture Gandhi’s personal emotions, thinking, beliefs, or attitudes.

[4] Afterwards, moreover, the Passive Resistance Association changed its name to the Satyagraha Association (Ashe 1968: 107), while Gandhian activists started referring to each other as “satyagrahis.”

[5] Although support for the Rowlatt satyagraha was nationwide, not every region was equally involved. Areas with pre-existing activist networks established by the Home Rule Leagues founded during World War I—one led by Extremist Bal Gangadhar Tilak, the other by Theosophist Annie Besant—were better organized and more enthusiastic than areas without protest experience. Strongholds of the Khilafat movement, comprised of Pan-Islamist groups struggling against the British Empire’s treatment of the Sultan of Turkey, also contributed significantly to the Rowlatt Satyagraha’s initial success (Israel 1994: 10). Moreover, areas with sympathetic newspapers were more likely to sustain enthusiasm for the Gandhian campaign than areas without such favorable press. And finally, the places Gandhi visited, particularly Bombay, Delhi, Allahabad, Lucknow, Madras, Tamilnad, and Andhra, were also more disciplined and loyal to satyagraha than places he did not visit (Low in Kumar 1971: 64-92).

[6] Gandhi’s suspension of the Rowlatt campaign and the non-cooperation movement was highly controversial and provoked considerable criticism among various fractions of Indian nationalists. Contemporary historians, moreover, continue to deplore Gandhi’s reaction to the Chauri Chaura event, particularly those associated with the Subaltern Studies series (references?; Amin 1995).

[7] This demand called for the immediate reservation of coastal trade of India for Indian owned and Indian manned ships. Like the second and seventh demand, therefore, it sought to give India more control over international trade and commerce.

[8] This final demand may seem puzzling, but Gandhi stressed the psychological harm inflicted on the Indian people as a result of the Government’s monopoly of violence. Although Gandhi was personally opposed to violence, he wanted the Indian population to make up its own mind about this issue (Weber 1997: 64).