Abstract
Raziuddin Aquil, History in the Public Domain (New Delhi: Manohar, 2023), 260 pp.
Aquil uses this highly personal, insightful collection of 36 of his own and mostly already published short essays and extended discussions to engage readers in historical questions regarding the public domain of South Asia and related conflicts. He asserts right away in the succinct preface: ‘HISTORY IS A HOT topic in the politics of the public domain’ (Emphasis in the original) and argues that ‘[p]ressures from different kinds of ideological positions and politics of identities of various kinds together put serious constraints on the writing of history’ (p. 11). When it comes to South Asia, though, not only history and historians experience such troubles of finding a sustainable balance between misusing their professional, subject-based knowledge and taking sides, in ways which then are adjudged by others as deviations from the truth. Not only in India, but everywhere in the post-truth world, this has become overloaded to an almost unbearable extent with mischievous facts and manipulative strategies of dissipation, facilitated by the almost ubiquitous use of information technology.
In such a challenging scenario, Aquil urges historians to scrutinise vernacular histories that are floating in the public domain as well as to question the assumptions of professional academic history about what exactly happened in history. He warns that far too easily, ‘unverifiable social memories are preferred over verifiable historical evidence and facts, and history is misused or sacrificed in the quest for power’ (p. 12). Arguing that ‘credible professional historians are expected to maintain objectivity and eschew biases and prejudices’ (p. 12), this seems to set an impossibly high barrier to keep out any element of subjectivity, a predicament shared with many other academic disciplines. It is, in short, not easy these days, surely not only in India, for academics as public thinkers who dare to speak their mind, based on their own research and understanding.
Any review of this rich collection of writings could not do justice to this ambitious and exciting project of connecting academia and life through the lens of a historian. The book contains a succinct preface (pp. 11–4), 36 essays and a set of concluding remarks regarding the struggle for peace in violent political times (pp. 226–34). Clearly, Aquil has chosen to address various contested topics of South Asian history and politics and seeks to explain them simply and in an informative way.
Starting in essay 1 (pp. 15–18) with the story of Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib, cousin and son-in-law of Prophet Muhammad and the fourth of the rightly guided caliphs in mid-seventh century Arabia, Aquil gives various examples of Imam Ali’s idea of truth and virtues. He connects this with Shia and Sufi traditions and qawwali musical practices as examples of composite culture, using the blissful song, ‘Haq Ali Ali Ali Maula Ali Ali’ sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Aquil critiques spiritual leaders and other wily peddlers of faith (p. 16) for taking approaches to history that are ‘generally narrowly sectarian and conservative, with no scope for critical thinking or questioning’ (p. 16). He warns that it is ‘indeed time to rise above religious and sectarian differences and reflect on the kind of society we want to live in’ (p. 17). This evidently goes as much for internal struggles among Muslims (p. 17) as for peaceful coexistence in today’s increasingly complex plural societies anywhere in the world, asking for responsible governance and tolerance, rather than self-interested manipulations of power.
In essays 3–6, Aquil discusses the politics of religion in medieval India. These medieval Indian writings are a hotly contested field of the public domain nowadays (p. 27). Giving various examples, Aquil argues that history is often used as a weapon in ideological struggles and identity contestations. Overall, he observes and teaches that ‘[c]ritical issues relating to the complex interaction between religion and political culture are no longer being swept under the carpet’ (p. 27). However, this then generates new conflicts.
Noting that India has a long tradition of writing history in various forms (pp. 28–35), Aquil observes that the writing of history in India is made more difficult by the immense complexities of identities in various forms. This suggests, surely again not only with regard to South Asia, that historians need to be more aware of tricky issues of intermingling religion and politics in diverse, multicultural contexts (pp. 36–41). They have to be interdisciplinary scholars, an observation illustrated through current discourses about the Ramayana (pp. 42-53). Aquil rightly urges that to privilege any monolithic or exclusive reading of the vast oral, textual and performative traditions of the Ramayana would be ‘antithetical to its very essence’ (p. 53).
Many essays examine various aspects of Islam, including Sufism and its links with the Bhakti movement of medieval India. Aquil’s analysis overall indicates that there may be some beautiful aspects of the past as well as many cruel incidents. Those who simply glorify the past and seek to recreate it almost invariably fail, while those who view it comprehensively and critically can draw on the past in meaningful and lasting ways. People who have confidence in their future approach the past with seriousness and critical reverence. Between the lines, Aquil teaches that academic professionals like historians cannot simply sit and watch the ocean, observing the sinking of truth in the public domain. Some truthful historical facts could work as medicine to help society recover from infections of noisy ill-will and hatred. Aquil’s collection provides important and very timely historical information through this book, which is a much-needed reminder of the need to counter misinformation and blatant misrepresentation of history in the public domain. It is evidently an important read not only for historians and other academics, but also policy makers.