Jallianwala Bagh, 1919 Page 3
A: It would give entire satisfaction if one did not fear that the underlying motive had a sinister purpose.
Q: You do not dislike their joint political action? You do not look with disfavour on Hindus and Muhammadans leaving their religious quarrels and taking up a common attitude and stand?
A: I have no objection. I was disquieted not by their unity but the fact they imported their unity into a religious ceremony.
Q: I do not think you believe in the principle of ‘divide and rule’?
A: No.
Q: I think you are aware of the fact that since the time of the publication of the Montagu Chelmsford Reform Scheme, it has all along been alleged that one of the defects why Indians are not fit for responsible self-government is because of their religious differences and because Hindus and Muhammadans, the two important communities, do not see eye to eye with one another?. . . And therefore I think you will agree with me it is natural, in order to prove their fitness. . . the two communities try to accommodate one another and fraternize?
A: Except the remarkable thing that the Hindu ceremony had been converted into a political demonstration.
Gandhi was also expected to arrive in Punjab on 9 April, to take the peaceful protest against the Rowlatt Acts further. However, he was prevented from entering the state, and the arrest of Kitchlew and Satya Pal followed on 10 April. The Punjab government was obviously taking no chances, carefully targeting those who could lead an uprising against the Acts. There was also fear that the unity of the two communities would lead to an upset of the policy of divide and rule. According to Benjamin Horniman, ‘Subsequent events in the Punjab served to strengthen this feeling of unity between the two great sections of the Indian people so greatly that never again will the ruling powers be able to look at the principle of Divide et Impera for their good.’10
The Punjab government did not want a successful agitation against the Rowlatt Acts—of which O’Dwyer was a supporter. The Acts would further enable men like him, who (as Secretary of State Edwin Montagu had said) would always ‘try to govern by the iron hand’. O’Dwyer harboured deep antipathy towards the Indian educated classes who were now becoming politically engaged in urban centres like Amritsar. He much preferred the ‘peasant behind the plough’. In one of his speeches, he said bluntly, ‘Because half a dozen grasshoppers under a fern make the field ring with their importunate cries, while thousands of great cattle repose beneath the shadow of the British oak, chew the cud and are silent, pray do not imagine that those who make the noise are the only inhabitants of the field.’11
The responsibility for controlling Amritsar fell on the slight shoulders of Irving. He was the senior-most civilian officer in Amritsar, as the Lieutenant Governor, O’Dwyer, and the Commissioner, A.J. Kitchin, were both based in Lahore, 36 miles away. Irving had already sent a detailed letter on 8 April to Kitchin and O’Dwyer, expressing concern over the large, though peaceful meetings as well as organised hartals that were now frequently taking place. In his opinion, something big was about to happen.12
The success of the hartal on 6 April was worrying to the British, as everything in the city had shut down despite the fact that the strike had been announced less than 12 hours earlier. According to Irving, it was a ‘triumph of organisation’ and meant that there would be more and more severe tests until, as he said further in his almost prophetic letter: ‘people will be ordered to go to jail by the thousands’.13 Something had to be done urgently, as he was dismayed by the number of people showing up at the meetings. He referred to them with a touch of hysteria, as ‘mobs’. Nothing had happened, not a stone had been thrown, everyone was following the Gandhian plan of satyagraha but for Irving, the situation was becoming a nightmare.
He strongly disliked the confidence of the leaders of the satyagraha. He felt he did not have the forces to deal with them and asked O’Dwyer for help from the army, to sort out ‘who governs Amritsar’. The other annoyance—apart from the crowds gathering to hear political speeches—was the fact that on a hartal day nothing would function, and shops would be shut. For the British families living in Amritsar, this would have been frustrating as they were used to preferential treatment. Even public transport would have become a problem, not just for them, but for their staff and servants. Irving would have received a lot of complaints from his compatriots, who may have thought he was beginning to appear weak.
He therefore asked for an increase in forces, as well as machine guns and armoured vehicles, saying that they could not ‘go indefinitely with the policy of keeping out of the way, and congratulating ourselves that the mob has not forced us to interfere. Every time we do this the confidence of the mob increases; yet with our present force we have no alternative. I think we shall have to stand up for our authority sooner or later by prohibiting some strike or procession which endangers the public peace. But for this a really strong force will have to be brought in and we shall have to be ready to try conclusions to the end to see who governs Amritsar.’14 Obviously expecting a sudden attack, he asked for a movable column from Lahore to be available at ‘6 hours’ notice’. This was an unusual request because no violence had been reported yet, even though the numbers at the gatherings continued to increase.
Irving had also noticed the rise of new leaders like Kitchlew and Satya Pal in Amritsar and felt he had no influence over them. Meanwhile, the older leadership with whom he had some links had ceased to have much influence.
What really upset Irving was that he had asked the Congress leadership in Amritsar to cancel the hartal to be held on 6 April and they had agreed. However, after a secret meeting at Satya Pal’s home on 5 April, the hartal was declared anyway—with a small party going around with a drum, announcing it, at around 9 p.m. After 2 a.m. posters were pasted around the city as well. This sidelining of his request made Irving feel he had lost control. The only way forward was the arrest of the new leaders, i.e. Satya Pal and Kitchlew. O’Dwyer had already planned on deporting them and Irving received his orders at 7 p.m. on 9 April.
Irving immediately called a meeting of the British officials stationed at Amritsar—which included a few from the army and others from the police, whom he felt he could trust. Among these were Captain Massey, who was the Officer Commanding Station, Superintendent of Police Rehill, Civil Surgeon Lieutenant Colonel Henry Smith, and Deputy Superintendent of Police Plomer.15
It was decided that the two leaders (after their arrest) would be taken to Dharamshala by Rehill in a car. The officers at the meeting did not think that there would be a severe reaction—only that a ‘noisy but not dangerous crowd’ would go to the Deputy Commissioner’s bungalow, or the kutchery to protest. Pickets would be set up to prevent them from reaching there. The other mistake made by Irving was that while he took steps to protect the ‘official’ Europeans, the non-official Europeans in Amritsar were neither protected nor told that there could be some trouble on 10 April.16
On 10 April, when word of the arrest of Kitchlew and Satya Pal spread, people started gathering as expected. Also as expected, a group wanted to walk to the residence of the Deputy Commissioner to request their release. At 11.30 a.m., it was reported that ‘a large crowd formed in Hall Bazaar and made its way through Hall Gate and over Hall Bridge at the further side of which was a small picket of mounted troops.’17 It must be noted that initially the unarmed group was peaceful—bareheaded and mostly unshod. Till this time they may have been hopeful of a resolution or a dialogue with Irving as they walked by the National Bank, the Town Hall and the Christian Mission Hall, and remained non-violent even though they did encounter a few Europeans.
They were halted at the railway carriage overbridge by the military picket. Time and again, they tried to break through the pickets. Irving and Captain Massey arrived, with a fresh contingent, but the fracas continued, getting worse by the minute till ‘two soldiers dismounted, took a safe position and fired. . .’18 The soldiers were British, adding to the fury of the protestors. In the firing, three or fou
r were killed, and possibly more were wounded. Again, though the killings are recorded in the Hunter Committee Report, there are no clear numbers or names of the Indians who were shot dead.
‘At about 1 pm, Plomer appeared on the scene, with twenty-four foot police and seven sowars. The police marched towards the crowd with bayonets fixed and at the ready position. The crowd retreated, and by the time the infantry arrived, the footbridge and the carriage bridge were practically cleared of the crowd and taken over by the military, while the railway level crossing was taken over by the police picket.’19
Unable to proceed further, the crowd returned to Hall Bazaar, but the sight of the dead and wounded enraged others who had also gathered there. More and more people began to join in.
It must be remembered that the frequent meetings and discussions on the Rowlatt Acts had brought the ordinary people of Amritsar together and made them more aware of their rights. It was difficult for them to understand why they were not being permitted to meet the Deputy Commissioner; there was also concern about what may have happened to Kitchlew and Satya Pal. If people were being prevented from crossing the railway bridge, perhaps something terrible was afoot. It is also possible that news of the arrest of Gandhi the previous day had come in (the telegraph wires and phone lines were still functioning, though they would be cut later in the day).
A larger crowd of around 30,000 began to spread through the bazaar, and some now went back to face the military picket—this time carrying sticks and pieces of wood. These would not be of much use against British guns, but the protestors were inflamed by the injustice of what had just taken place.
Many among the leaders were lawyers—which was a common feature in the early years of the freedom struggle. One among them, Maqbool Mahmood, a high court lawyer, volunteered to reason with the angry crowd along with Gurdial Singh Salaria, another member of the Bar, before the encounter took a turn for the worse. He remembered: ‘Salaria and I shouted out to the Deputy Commissioner and the officers to get back and not to fire, as we still hoped to take the crowd back. A few of the crowd threw wood and stones at the soldiers. The soldiers at once opened a volley of fire without any warning or intimation. Bullets whistled to my right and left. The crowd dispersed, leaving 20 to 25 killed and wounded. After the firing stopped I went up to the soldiers and enquired if they had an ambulance car or any first aid arrangements at hand. I wanted to run to the hospital, which was close by for help. The soldiers would not allow me. Mr Seymour however let me go. . . The Deputy Commissioner himself was present when the fire was opened (sic). He knew that Salaria and I were members of the Bar and trying to get the people back to the city. It was by mere accident that our lives were saved. I still believe that if the authorities had a little more patience, we would have succeeded in taking the crowd back. . . I believe that some of the wounded might have been saved if timely medical assistance had been forthcoming. After the first few shots, the crowd rushed back, but the firing continued even after they began running away. Many of them were hit on the back. Most of the wounded were hit above the belt, on the face or on the head.’20
The picket had been reinforced with foot and mounted police, as well as infantry. What had begun as a peaceful protest led to many more deaths and injuries, as the British troops kept firing. ‘The crowd made a rush, at the same time stoning the picket. The non-commissioned officer in charge was given the necessary order, the crowd was fired upon and between 20 to 30 casualties ensued.’21 (Though later, in the Hunter Committee Report, it was claimed to be ten casualties.) Given the spontaneous nature of the uprising, the dead and wounded were residents of Amritsar, creating further tensions in the city. Eyewitnesses remembered bodies lying in the mosque at Hall Bazaar, enraging many. As the wounds were mostly on the upper part of the body, one can only conclude that the intent was to shoot to kill.
Seventy-three rounds were fired by the army, and several rounds by the police. Maqbool, who had tried to play a conciliatory role, then went to the Civil Hospital ‘and brought Dhanpat Rai, a medico, to render first aid to the wounded. Stretchers were brought from the hospital but Plomer ordered the hospital staff to go back, shouting that the people must make their own arrangements.’22
The crowd had become increasingly agitated at witnessing the large number of casualties. It now retaliated by targeting symbols of British power. They burnt down buildings: part of the Town Hall, the National Bank and the Chartered Bank. The Alliance Bank, though attacked, was not burnt, as the building belonged to an Indian. Three bank managers were beaten up and killed, but the Chartered Bank managers escaped, with help from their Indian clerks and some policemen, and hid in the Kotwali. The telegraph office was attacked and the telephone exchange destroyed. The Indian Christian Church and Religious Book Society’s Depot and Hall were burnt. There was an attempt to burn the Church Missionary Society’s Girls Normal School. The railways also came under attack, and one guard was killed, as was an electrician. A British female missionary was attacked, and another British woman, a doctor, escaped. The latter, Mrs Easdon, had watched the mayhem from the rooftop of the Zenana Hospital (which was under her charge) and had allegedly said the natives deserved to be shot. This further angered the crowd, which went hunting for her twice; she was hidden inside a closet till the danger passed.23
In total, five Europeans died in the attack on the banks and elsewhere.
(Note: In all the reports, the name and occupation of each of the five Europeans who died are known. But, as mentioned, it is difficult to find the name or occupation of any Indian casualty—especially if they were from among the protestors. Therefore, there is little information about the estimated twenty who died, and many more who were wounded. Nor do we know the exact details of how they died. The unarmed protestors are continuously referred to as a ‘mob’ by the British government, and it is assumed that their intentions are violent. Yet, only the British police and army were armed.)
This was probably the worst confrontation between the British government and its Indian subjects in recent times, and it left both sides suspicious and alarmed. No action was taken over the killing and wounding of more than twenty Indians, but arrests were made for the murder of the five Europeans and harassment of the two European women. The tenuous relationship that had been carefully nurtured by the British through clever appeasement, inclusion and distribution of favours now seemed strained. Punjab had provided the most soldiers to fight for the Allies in the First World War, yet when they came back, inspired by the speeches of Woodrow Wilson and the idea of liberty, their own government was ready to shoot them dead. While many continued to collaborate with their colonial masters, the agitation against the Rowlatt Acts showed there was a growing resistance, a search for a more liberal order.
The killing of unarmed Indians exposed the dichotomy within the colonial structure. From the British point of view, the Rowlatt Acts were more necessary than ever. Not just in Punjab but all over the country, since they permitted arrests for acts of sedition. Any gathering of people that proposed the shutting down of the city could be considered just that. After the events of 10 April in Amritsar, suppression of rebellion was paramount for the Punjab government—which till this point had been represented by the local civil administration reporting to O’Dwyer, the Lieutenant Governor based in Lahore.
O’Dwyer, like Irving, smelt a larger conspiracy in the recent events. The hartals had been very successful, not just in Amritsar, but also in Lahore, Gujranwala and elsewhere. Delhi, Bombay and even Ahmedabad had seen the spread of the anti-Rowlatt Act movement. In many places such as Bihar, Orissa, the Central Provinces and right up to Burma, the hartals remained peaceful.
Perhaps O’Dwyer and his officers were concerned that this satyagraha, if it spread to the army, could lead to a repeat of the Mutiny of 1857. It could also be argued that as the World War had ended only in November 1918, its memories were fresh in everyone’s mind. There was concern about the demobilised soldiers, as this was a group that could b
e easily organised, or turn rebellious. Even though some suspected an effort to destabilise the British regime in India, the fact remains that in Amritsar most of the violence of 10 April was restricted to a small area.24 It erupted only after some protestors had been killed. No guns, bombs or ammunition of any variety were used by the protestors. However, they were stung into burning, looting and killing—after the British troops fired and killed their compatriots.
Instead of releasing the two political prisoners, Kitchlew and Satya Pal, which might have calmed down the tense atmosphere, in a complete overreaction, more troops were brought into Amritsar. The walled city and its surroundings were militarised over the next two days. The British were preparing for war, and by 11 April they had declared war on the people of Amritsar.
Between 1 and 2 p.m. a party of 1-9th Gurkhas, unarmed but 260 strong, had arrived at the railway station on their way to Peshawar under Captain Crompton. They were detained in Amritsar. One hundred of them were armed from the Fort and pickets were strengthened. The railway station itself was now safe, and the Rego bridge could be strongly guarded while the (British) women and children were being got to the Fort.
Late that night, after 10 p.m., 300 troops—125 British, and 175 Baluchis—arrived from Lahore under Major MacDonald, who took over command from Captain Massey. Early on 11 April, 300 more troops arrived from Jullundur—100 British and 200 Indian.25
Irving very likely had overstated the case, because when A.J. Kitchin, Commissioner of the Division, and D. Donald, Deputy Inspector General, drove down from Lahore on 10 April, arriving at the railway station at 5 p.m., to check the situation, they were not stopped or harassed in any way. This was evidence that the violence, which had spread through the city, was not part of a conspiracy to attack Europeans, but had been a spontaneous display of anger because protesters had been brutally killed and the wounded left to their own resources.