This book asks why the Indianness of Aligarh Muslim University, Jamia Millia Islamia is questioned

By sheer serendipity, I happened to begin reading Laurence Gautier’s Between Nation and ‘Community’ immediately after TCA Raghavan’s Circles of Freedom, which locates the life and career of the barrister-politician Asaf Ali in the national freedom struggle and probes the challenges of being a moderate Muslim or a nationalist Muslim within the Indian National Congress. Coming close on the heels of Raghavan’s book, I was struck by the opening line of Gautier’s Introduction: “Can a Muslim university be an Indian university?” Clearly, the doubts and apprehensions, the mistrust and suspicion that afflict Indian Muslims similarly afflict Muslim institutions, including universities that Gautier is at pains to clarify at the very outset were “established by Muslim individuals or organisations, primarily – though not exclusively – for Muslim students.”

Having worked briefly at both Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) and Jamia Millia Islamia (JMI) – a few short months at Aligarh and a few years at Jamia – I can say that there is a Muslimness, an unmistakably Muslim character to both: the time table changes during the month of Ramzan, a long break for the Juma namaz, the presence of several mosques on campus, the opening of academic/formal events with recitations from the Holy Quran, and increasingly the presence of ever more hijab-clad women (this was pointed out by mother who studied at AMU in the 1950s and noted that there were very few women in hijab let alone the full burqa in her time). The question, however, is: Does any of this diminish or detract or take away from the Indianness of these universities or, for that matter, from those who study or work here? That would lead us to the larger question: What is Indianness?

We come back to the question posed by Gautier in her very first line when she goes on to cite Gyanendra Pandey, who has compared Hindu nationalists and nationalist Muslims. Hindus are seen as nationalists by default whereas Muslims are often put to an agni pariksha to prove their nationalist credentials. As Gautier puts it: “Indian Muslims are taken to be primarily Muslims, whatever their political stance might be. Unlike Hindus, their commitment to the nation cannot be taken for granted; it has to be proven, for their Muslimness casts doubt on their Indianness.”

Incidents like Batla House in the Jamia neighbourhood or the anti-CAA protests at both JMI and AMU bolster the argument that these universities are nurseries of disaffected anti-nationalists and prompting a politician to famously declare: “Desh ke gaddaron ko…Goli maaro saalon ko.”

Aligarh Muslim University and Jamia Millia Islamia

While there is much to read and reflect on in this richly detailed book that brings together, seamlessly, many primary and secondary sources and oral testimonies, a few things need to be flagged. One is the obvious differences between AMU and JMI, by now both Central Universities though the two have entirely different histories. The reasons and the circumstances behind their establishment and their distinct “historical character” have cast a long shadow on their growth and development. AMU was set up to provide secular, western education to the Muslim qaum in a campus modelled on the colleges at Oxford and Cambridge, and to “develop a strong bond with the colonial authorities in order to preserve their access to power”.

JMI on the other hand clearly had different ideas right from its inception: “Hers was a voice of rebellion, one that highlighted the dissonances within the supposedly unified Muslim community.” A splinter group of ardent nationalists, led by Maulana Mohamed Ali, broke away from the MAO College to set up a new kind of educational institution devoted to the service of the nation. In the heady days of the Khilafat Movement and the high noon of Hindu-Muslim unity, Gandhi pledged instant support to this new venture, famously declaring to go begging bowl in hand, if need be, to support this nationalistic enterprise.

It’s interesting to note the different treatments meted out to the two universities immediately after independence, and their vastly different public perception. While AMU was given Central University status in 1951, one among three central universities, Jamia – that had once been famously called the “lusty of the freedom movement” – struggled financially. It seems as though it quite suited the Congress government of the day and Nehru in particular – who had close personal ties with several of Jamia’s teachers and was a frequent visitor – to view the Jamia as a quaint space where visitors such as the Shah of Iran would be shepherded to view its projects and schemes.

Even the cover photograph on Gautier’s book written with immense empathy though it is, perhaps unintentionally, reinforces this quaintness with gamine-faced boys dressed like grown-ups in shervani and Gandhi caps against a building designed by the German architect Karl Heinz. There are other photographs in the Jamia archives showing several eminent people earnestly poring over rough-and-ready hand-made charts and diagrams. Overall, the picture that emerges is that it suited everyone to have this quaint, charming, idealistic venture in one’s backyard as long as it showed no great ambitions to grow into anything bigger or grander.

The Jamia too, I suspect, chose to live in a shell of its own making, hiding its light under a bushel, making a virtue of frugality and simplicity and service. It seemed content to allow the world to view it as a curiosity, a whimsical other-worldly place, a retreat from the mainstream; for some, it was even a recalcitrant child bent upon being odd and different from others, especially its older sibling, the AMU. For far too long, the serious students and the professional scholars stayed away from the Jamia choosing to go to AMU instead.

The differences

The Jamia biradari – a word constantly used by Prof Mushirul Hasan, the most faithful chronicler of Jamia’s history – was a close-knit community. Being small, much smaller than the sprawling AMU campus, Jamia fostered from its earliest days a sense of fellowship among its students and teachers. We get a sense of that in the oral testimonies and memoirs of its teachers and students frequently referred to by Gautier: the annual Jamia Mela, the idea of selfless service (be-laus khidmat) reinforced by teachers often voluntarily taking cuts in their salaries, the emphasis on community service and shram daan, the sense of community living, the devotion of not just staff but their families to the “idea” of Jamia, all of which was fostered by the compactness of the campus. Also, Jamia was more democratic in its functioning than AMU, again possibly due to its size. In this, it drew inspiration from early Islamic society. There are instances of school functions starting punctually on the dot when the chief guest, Vice Chancellor Dr Zakir Hussain, happened to be running late.

Then there was the presence of female students from its earliest days – in classes, in reading rooms, even on stage – with the earliest students being daughters and sisters of Jamia teachers and workers. However, as Gautier points out, this was “primarily out of practical considerations, not out of ideological principles” and Mujeeb, a long-serving Vice Chancellor, recognised it as a valuable project only in hindsight. Whatever the reason, Jamia offered new opportunities for women in its feeder schools, Balak Mata centres, teacher training courses, and adult literacy classes.

The presence of women on campus seen as a threat in AMU with Islamist groups gaining ascendancy, was much less so in JMI in the 1970s and 80s when debates on “proper” and “improper” mingling of the sexes began to gain ground between the “conservatives” and “progressives” and questions about the presence of women, especially in cultural programmes, began to be raised. While present in JMI, too, these voices were muted and not as strident as in AMU.

Then, there is the rather obvious difference of location and how that has impacted the development of the two universities: Jamia’s location in Delhi compared to AMU’s approx 180 km away. While in the early years, AMU was far more cosmopolitan than the mosquito-infested neck of the woods beside the Yamuna that was home to Jamia, from the 1980s a perceptible change became visible. The establishment of a working women’s hostel in 1982 by AJ Kidwai was possible in Jamia primarily due to its location, followed by the MCRC. We see that change accentuated in recent years in the changing profile of both staff and students with Jamiabeing more open to change and AMU becoming more closed, more insular, more inward-looking.

Between Nation and ‘Community’: Muslim Universities and Indian Politics after Partition, Laurence Gautier, Cambridge University Press.