Anti-Nazi Indology: Reexamining Nazism and German Indology



<au>Douglas T. McGetchin</><at>Indo-German Connections, Critical and Hermeneutical, in the First World War</><@@@>The questions that Edward Said raised in Orientalism are still unresolved regarding the German interest in India. Said himself mostly excluded German Orientalism from his critique of the British and French intellectual project of domination over the Middle East. As the Indo-German connection was not burdened directly by German colonialism of India, one can argue that Said does not apply to Indo-German contacts, or at least, as Fred Dallmayr does, that Said’s formulation itself is an “essentializing construct” based on a selective examination of historical evidence. Others such as Ronald Inden, Kamakshi Murti, and Kaushik Bagchi argue that Said applies very well to the German interest in India, and that Germans adapted themselves to European colonialism, which explains some of their attitudes toward India. Susanne Zantop even theorizes that it was the lack of colonies during the eighteenth and early nineteenth Centuries that created a greater desire for them in Germany. Wilhelm Halbfass, most known in his India and Europe for promoting the hermeneutical interpretation, actually eventually made arguments between these poles, pointing out that Germany “is very much part of Europe, inseparable from its European context,” including both its hermeneutical and colonial projects. Bradley Herling in an article in this issue of The Comparatist discusses the two main approaches scholars have taken regarding cultural interaction: critical consciousness or hermeneutical consciousness, or in other words, a Saidian focus on power differentials and exploitation versus a Gadamerian emphasis on shared dialogue. If these are the twin poles of colonial interaction, one can certainly see them within Indo-German connections during the First World War. Dialogue was very apparent in the active courting of Indian revolutionaries by Germans. As Modris Ecksteins argues, Germany was a revolutionary force in the world at the time, supporting revolutionaries in Ireland and Russia, and I would add India. Yet the Germans were deeply conflicted, and their attitude toward revolutionaries also reflected a counter-current of domination, when Germans found themselves adhering to the colonial attitudes of their otherwise wartime enemies in Europe, the British. This alignment makes sense in terms of the patterns of belief in the superiority of European civilization, religion, and race, attitudes that stretched back well into at least the nineteenth Century. Following, Ricoeur scholars such as Herling are today seeking the fusion of these two points of view, the critical and the hermeneutical. An examination of Indo-German relations around the First World War provides a promising venue for such a dialectical synthesis of these viewpoints, a “site of inquiry” as Herling suggests, for an analysis that transcends the more materialist concerns of the Saidian critique of Orientalism and the intellectualist focus of Halbfass’s hermeneutical approach. It is important that one examine the context around the formation of these views. As Herling points out, “hermeneutics and ‘critical consciousness’ come together when we identify the genealogical critique of our categories, including the anti-Orientalist critique, with a foregrounding of the prejudices that have come down to us from within our tradition.” A step toward finding this synthesis is the examination of the structures of knowledge about the other, just what the arguments and ideas Germans and Indians each held. Usually scholars look at one approach or the other, trying to dispel its opposite. Yet these views really are two sides of one coin of cultural interaction and (mis)perception. After all, at least a century before Germans decided to work with Indians to undermine the British during the First World War, Germans also made arguments for an especially close Indo-German connection, and pursued actions that helped to establish one. A small circle of cultivated Germans revered ancient Indian texts and the admiring influence was mutual. This article argues for a complexity in the German view, arguing that during the first few decades of the twentieth century, a tension between critical and hermeneutical consciousnesses existed within Germany about South Asia. From the 1890s, German colonial and naval aspirations encroached upon British dominion and vied with Germans’ Romantic view of Indians, as both European powers then had overseas colonies. Accordingly, some Germans, such as the former German naval officer Graf Ernst zu Reventlow and the Indologist Helmuth von Glasenapp, viewed Indians with a hermeneutical sympathy, wanting to invoke friendship with Indians to cause the overthrow of their British overlords. Yet there was also a Saidian power-orientation here as well, as Indian independence also opened the possibility that the Germans could take their British overlords’ place as the dominant world power. Accordingly, German arguments concerning South Asians took on a more colonial or racist viewpoint. Ironically, even as the First World War raged, many Germans, such as Baron von Oppenheim from the Foreign Office (Auswaertiges Amt), could not escape the Eurocentric solidarity alongside the British against the Indians and other colonial peoples. Another important perspective to incorporate within this analysis of the Indo-German relationship is that of the colonized subjects, the Indians. Complicating the position of the colonizers (or would-be colonizers) and the divide between critical and hermeneutical consciousness is that of the subaltern, which also incorporates these two perspectives or consciousnesses. While these Indians were not colonizers themselves, they were conflicted about working with the Germans. Indian revolutionaries had a large ambition to gain independence from British rule, but were unable to accomplish this goal during the war, mostly because of active and effective British counter-measures. The Berlin India Committee founded in 1915 by Virendranath “Chatto” Chattopadhyaya, the work of Har Dayal in Turkey, and the Indo-German expedition to Afghanistan to set up an Indian government in exile under Mahendra Pratap indicate the varying approaches to the campaign for independence. Despite the many difficulties and shortfalls during the war, there were successful aspects of this wartime Indo-German collaboration. Germans and Indians working together aided the international cause of resistance against the British and raised sympathies abroad for the Indian independence movement. Thus both Indians and Germans articulated revolutionary positions that contributed to the Indian independence effort against the British. While not immediately successful in overthrowing the British, their efforts did have an impact, as one can see in several postwar literary works including Mulk Raj Anand’s Across the Black Waters (1940) and W. Somerset Maugham’s Ashenden, Or: The British Agent (1941).Germans involved with the Berlin India Committee exhibited both a critical and hermeneutical consciousness. Those showing more of a critical cast included their advisor and supervisor Baron von Oppenheim and his associates Ernst Jaeckh, H. K. Regendanz, and Herbert Mueller, all of the German Foreign Office; Karl Bleibtreu, and, from Heidelberg, Dr. Wilhelm Mertens and Professor Salomon, who had been instrumental in collecting Indians from throughout Germany. Other Germans associated with the Berlin India Committee, “the supreme general staff of the Indian revolution” included Otto von Wesendonck of the German Foreign Office, a former missionary in India called Graetsch, the Director General of the Persian Carpet Society Heinrich Jacoby, businessman and honorary German Consul at Karachi Ernst Neuenhofer, Arabic scholar Miss Ruth Bike, and the Professor of Indology at the Universities of K?nigsberg and Tübingen Helmuth von Glasenapp, who was most attuned to hermeneutical interactions. Other related wartime organizations involving Indians in Germany included the Bund der Freunde Indiens, founded on February 21, 1918. The Nachrichtenstelle für den Orient (Information Service for the Orient) was led by Dr. Max Adrian Simon Baron von Oppenheim (1860–1946), who held a doctorate in jurisprudence from Goettingen, had studied in Islamic countries, was known as an archaeologist and founded the Deutsches Orient-Institut after the war. One can see a tension between the critical and the hermeneutical positions in First World War Indo-German activity in Baron von Oppenheim’s Muslim plan, which developed from pre-war relations with the Ottoman Empire and sought a pan-Islamic uprising against the British through the preaching of a Jihad from the Caliph in Constantinople. On the eve of the First World War, Kaiser Wilhelm was eager to use Islam against the British, as he told his advisors. “Our consuls in Turkey and India, agents, etc., must get a conflagration going throughout the whole Mohammedan world against this hated, unscrupulous, dishonest nation of shopkeepers—since if we are going to bleed to death, England must at least lose India.” A rumor circulated that the Kaiser had declared himself a protector of Muslims, secretly converted to Islam, and even had made an undercover pilgrimage to Mecca, yielding him a new Muslim name of “‘Haji’ Wilhelm Mohammed.” The German plan included using this affinity to Muslims to foment revolution in British India and to spread anti-British propaganda. The improvisational nature of these plans goes to show the lack of any deep Indo-Germanic diplomatic or affinitive ties among the German diplomatic and military elites. Official Germany was not logistically, ideologically, or politically prepared to work with illegal, underground non-European colonized groups, and their rapid attempt to do so in order to hurt the British could not compete with the well-established counter-espionage network the British had in place to root out sedition. Established Indian revolutionaries recognized a Saidian critical consciousness among the Germans that replicated the colonial motivations of the British. They responded with a wariness that presented a challenge to Indo-German revolutionary plans. For example, the Punjabi leader Lajpat Rai, who stayed in the United States, “refused to join the [Berlin] Committee on the principle of not taking foreign help for India’s struggle for freedom and not using violent means for it.” Rai specifically did not trust the motivation of the Germans, whom he believed “would grab India and would suck the life blood out of her, even more mercilessly than the English had done.” The only revolutionaries initially available to the Germans were students studying in Germany when the war started. The leader of the group of Indians in Berlin was Virendranath “Chatto” Chattopadhyaya, who had just started studying as a doctoral student in philosophy in Halle after arriving in Germany in April 1914. Chatto was a veteran of the revolutionary India House in London and a friend of the imprisoned nationalist leader Vinayak Damodar Savarkar (1883–1966). The German Indologist Helmuth von Glasenapp (1891–1963), who worked with Indians in Germany during the war, wrote later that Chatto was “the most personable and reliable of the Indians.” Chatto’s importance was also indicated by the serious effort the British Secret Service made to assassinate or capture him until 1931, when he left Germany for the Soviet Union. Chatto founded the Berlin India Committee with another radical student studying in Halle, Abinash Bhattacharya (1883–1967), who wrote Bartaman Rananiti (The Modern Art of War) and had founded in 1906 a revolutionary paper in Calcutta, Jugantar. On the Committee were some fifty other Indian students in Berlin, the south Indian Champakraman Pillai who had founded the Pro-India Committee in Zurich in 1912, and Dr. J. C. Dasgupta in Basel, Switzerland. By the middle of 1916 there were branch offices in Zurich (Dasgupta), Amsterdam (Champak Raman Pillai), and Stockholm (where Chatto moved from Berlin). One of the stumbling blocks for the success of Indo-German projects in the east were conflicts between the representative of the Berlin India Committee in Constantinople, Har Dayal, and other revolutionary leaders there that reflected fissures within the Indian community as well as subaltern resistance to a German affinity for British colonialism. Har Dayal’s personal background was different from the Bengalis who ran the Berlin Committee, which explains why he largely stayed away in Switzerland. Har Dayal, with a strong record of revolutionary activity arrived in the United States in 1911, went to Berkeley, California and founded there the Ghadr [or Ghadar] (Rebellion) newspaper and the Yugantar Ashram [New Era Hermitage] to promote revolution in India. On March 26, 1914 authorities arrested him as an undesirable alien, but he jumped bail and went to Switzerland. In Constantinople, Har Dayal had a “two-fold objective: propaganda among the Indians living in Turkey and Persia, and the establishment of a revolutionary centre at Kabul with German cooperation.” The work there fell apart over differences between religious factions among the Indian revolutionaries. “Arrogant and insensitive beyond belief, he named the Committee’s Constantinople office ‘Bureau du Parti National Hindou’ [Office of the Hindu National Party],” in a Muslim city and an office tasked with spreading jihad throughout the Muslim world. One of the Indian Muslim leaders in Constantinople, Kheiri, traveled to Berlin to complain to the Foreign Office about Dayal’s Hindu zealotry. His pro-Muslim protest had resonance with Baron von Oppenheim, who backed the Muslim faction within the revolutionary movement. Oppenheim’s leadership style was authoritarian and he was keen to keep all Indian efforts tightly tied to German war aims. These protests did little good for the cause of Indian independence, as the Berlin Indians showed allegiance to Hindu interests and “were suspicious of anyone outside their own group; which in turn made others suspicious and mistrustful of the Berlin Indians.” Har Dayal also blamed the Germans for not being willing to spend enough, for not trusting Indians, or his own initiatives. The crisis about this split in leadership in Constantinople threatened the entire movement: “The Har Dayal issue brought the whole future of Indo-German cooperation into question both among Indians and at the AA [Foreign Office],” and on November 20, 1916, the Berlin India Committee discontinued its operations in Turkey. It is worth noting how well the British strategy of “divide and conquer” was working here—they successfully had Hindus and Muslims fighting each other even when they were purportedly on the same side. Like the efforts from Constantinople, incidents inside India of planned resistance and revolt were unsuccessful. Because the war in Europe drained India of British garrison troops, revolutionaries had hoped the thinned British forces would be susceptible to surprise attack, followed by a mass uprising. Bengal rebels increased bombings and armed robberies during the war, but there was no region within India for a base. Indian loyalty to Britain was a decisive stumbling block. The Defense of India Act of 1915 provided additional countermeasures the British needed to counteract Indo-German efforts aiming to sway the sixty-six million Muslims, a fifth of the population of British India. None of the efforts to give help from abroad was enough to foster a critical mass of revolt within India. Indian revolutionaries coordinating with Germans living in Bangkok made a bid to establish Siam as a base of operations just to the east of Burma, but their efforts backfired, inducing Siam to declare war on Germany and impounding nine German merchant ships there. Ghadr revolutionaries from North America sent Indian ex-patriots to support revolutionary activities against the British. Their ship got as far as Calcutta, where the British armed police met them, killing twenty-two Ghadrs and jailing eight thousand. The Ghadrs also made unsuccessful efforts to smuggle weapons into India with the help of the military attaché and future German chancellor Franz von Papen and the German consul in San Francisco, Franz Bopp. The German interest in Indians during the First World War had as its most obvious component the Saidian power relationship. Hermeneutical understanding was less important in this context than the relationship of power between colonizers and colonized. Yet unlike the European-Middle Easterner adversarial dynamic Edward Said documents, both Indians and Germans were fixated on the anti-colonial struggle of prying British control away from the Indian subcontinent. Thus the German interest in helping Indian independence was linked directly to a mutual enemy, the British. Just before the war, in his widely read Germany and the Next War (1912), the German general Friedrich von Bernhardi recommended using Muslim unrest against the British, anticipating the wartime goals of Indian revolutionaries and their German backers. “England intensely fears every Pan-Islamic movement ... so far, in accordance with the principle of divide et impera (divide and conquer), [England] has attempted to play off the Mohammedan against the Hindu population.... The co-operation of these elements might create a very grave danger, capable of shaking the foundations of England’s high position in the world. Translated into English, Indian revolutionaries celebrated this book as a hopeful sign of German help in their struggle. Har Dayal met with the German consul, Franz Bopp, on December 31, 1913 in San Francisco, where they read selections from Bernhardi. In 1910 Har Dayal wrote that Berlin was “the capital of the country which at present is most hostile in spirit to England.” In addition to these connections involving geopolitics, there are other examples of German writings that reveal the tension between a hermeneutical Indo-German cause and the promotion of European colonial rule. An example from the pre-war period was Hans Heinz Ewers’ Indien und Ich [India and I] (1911), an entertaining travelogue about Indian temples and cultural sites. It also expressed views of the British rule in India, and Ewers claimed he was “no friend of England,” or “perfidious Albion.” He described British India as a “powder keg,” ready for revolution, filled with spies working with the Japanese, eager to see European power smashed. He criticized the lack of press freedom in India, pointing out the contrast with the metropole of Britain itself, and stated, “Every educated Englishman in India knows today, that for India the democratic principle and self-rule does not exist, that here only one is in place: benevolent despotism.” Despite Ewers’ criticism of the British rule, he also exhibited some admiration. He pointed out that the four major modern cities of India—Bombay, Calcutta, Madras, and Colombo—all showed strong European influence and had a lack of Indian history behind them. Calcutta, for example, had only 5000 Europeans, including the Viceroy, living among a million Indians, yet the city had “30 Protestant and eight Catholic churches and not a single Hindu temple.” There are several examples of books during the war that expressed the German desire for hermeneutical cultural exchange. A. K. Viator’s Deutschlands Anteil an Indiens Schicksal (1918) [Germany’s Part in India’s Fate] argued: “While England crushes the Indian people with the iron boot of the conqueror and forces them into the yoke of their domination, Germany on the other hand seeks only the politics of spiritual conquest.” Another short book that emerged late in the war embodied important anti-British messages promoted by Germans and Indians. Count Ernst zu Reventlow (1869–1943) was a former German naval officer, journalist, and freelance writer, and author of Indien: Seine Bedeutung Für Grossbritannien, Deutschland Und Die Zukunft Der Welt [India: Its Meaning for Great Britain, Germany, and the Future of the World] (1917). Many of Reventlow’s points echoed arguments Chatto was making in Sweden with his propaganda efforts, inspired in part by the Bolsheviks in Russia. The critiques of British rule in India included their militarism, excessive extraction of wealth and the resulting poverty they spread, and discrimination against Indians regarding education, political office, and civil liberties. Reventlow cited the British Socialist anti-Imperialist critic of Empire, Henry M. Hyndman in India’s Bankruptcy, when he argued that India was becoming weaker under British rule: “The British Rule in India has only one goal, namely, year by year and day by day to squeeze the Indian people and land like a lemon and thereby to enrich Great Britain.” This argument was significant, as Indian nationalists such as Dadabhai Naoroji and Romesh Chunder Dutt had also made it in the late nineteenth century. Another argument that had resonance was the poor British record fighting starvation. Reventlow maintained that famine increased steadily under the British. “In the last thirty years of the 18th century three famines took place, in the first half of the 19th century these numbers rose by a factor of four, namely to twelve famines, and in the second half of the 19th centuries, 1854 to 1908, again nearly threefold the previous figure, namely to thirty-five famines. While in the last few years millions are ravished by famine every year.”Reventlow’s other arguments about labor and race, however, faced compromise by German attitudes that fell in line with those of the British. Reventlow argued that the English system of exploitation was not limited to the subcontinent, describing the British practice of indentured labor that sent Indians to British colonies in West Africa, Mauritius, Guiana, and the West Indies as a new form of slavery. “Indian people must perform forced labor for free far away through indentured service. In all parts of the British Empire, where there is a need for labor, a corresponding mass of Indians are transported there and transplanted.” Reventlow neglected to mention the German complicity in this exploitative system, as before the war German colonial administrators had tried to import Indian labor, and were only unable to do so because the British did not cooperate. One can see here the tension within the German position, poised between liberator and colonizer, hermeneutical and critical consciousness. Reventlow’s criticism of the British racist attitudes in India likewise struck a chord, but one with which Germans could also relate, thus compromising the point. <ext>The Indian is to the Briton “colored,” despised, like he fundamentally despises all relatives of the white race who are not Anglo-Saxon.... On trains there are carriages designated “for Europeans only,” and the public restrooms have signs “European Gentlemen,”, while the others are allotted for Indians with “men” and “women.” In the many clubs in the cities of British India only a few native Indians are allowed access. </ext>The problem with making these accurate anti-racist accusations was Germans shared these same prejudices, and had for decades. As Kaushik Bagchi argues, German Indologist Richard Garbe when he visited India in the 1880s felt more at home with the British than Indians. The Germans generally found the Eurocentric racial prejudices they shared with the British more useful as propaganda than any anti-racist message. For example, Germans discounted the British contribution to the Allied war effort by depicting the forces of British colonies and dominions as the welter of fierce but small cubs surrounding the imperial lion. Germans disparaged Indians as “coloured Englishmen.” They also attacked the Allied practice of employing “savage” native troops in Europe. In a paper published in 1915 on “the Violation of peoples’ rights by England and France in using troops of colour in the European theatre of war,” the German government blamed Allied colonial troops for war atrocities. Claiming that their native opponents took war trophies of severed heads, fingers, and ears, they asserted that the “Hindus accomplish their infamies with sharpened daggers.” The Indian Corps on the Western Front in France did introduce tribal fighting practices from fighting on the mountainous frontier of India. The 39th Garwhal Rifles launched a nighttime trench raid on the night of November 9–10, 1914 near Ypres, a “savage” practice that both the “civilized” British and Germans copied and applied widely thereafter. While the Germans were accurate in their accusations of racism against the British, the British themselves were conflicted about using Indian troops in Europe, but military necessity forced them to do so. Racism had influenced the British not to use Indian troops in the 1899–1902 Boer war in South Africa. In the First World War, former Commander in Chief in India Lord Roberts opposed the use of Indian troops in Europe, while the British king and Viceroy Lord Hardinge favored it, in part for the positive effect in India. The British ended up sending infantry divisions from Lahore and Meerut to France in August, 1914, and during the first year of the war, almost a third of the British Forces on the Western Front were Indians. Given these racial tensions, how exactly can one characterize the wartime Indo-German relationship? Was there more than a relationship of convenience against a common English foe? A mutual enemy in the British certainly was an important element shaping the Indo-German connection during the war years. In the early days of the war, while German forces were still moving during their invasion of France, the German Foreign Office did not pursue Indo-German contacts with much alacrity, but after their defeat at the Marne before Paris in 1914 and the ensuing stalemate as the war devolved into static trench warfare, the Germans were willing to pursue other paths to achieving the elusive victory. There were strategic benefits for working with Indians. German support of India was a way to counter the Allied accusations of the German occupation of Belgium, as the British were equally oppressing Indians. Despite the strategic Indo-German connection through Great Britain as a mutual enemy in the war, Germans had to overcome significant ideological obstacles to work with Indian revolutionaries. “The burden of the whole social-political tradition of Imperial Germany stood in its way. The political education of the Indian nationalists ran counter to that of the official Germans.” Many Germans, especially those within the Kaiser’s government, raised in a monarchial, authoritarian system, opposed democracy and maintained a deeply held animosity to Western liberalism. The assassinations and bombings carried out by Indian revolutionaries before the war served to create a gulf between them and a conservative German government deeply fearful of the rise to power of the socialists, who in 1912 achieved a majority in the Reichstag. The pre-war Germans tended to ignore Indian nationalism, condemning the British for raising hopes among their subject peoples with their liberalism on one hand, and then not crushing them with the other when the Indian demands rose. As Barooah points out, “Germans in India, and particularly the official ones, had no sympathy for the Indian nationalists and even less for those with a revolutionary bent.” These attitudes of “official Germans” extended to some German academics as well. Berlin professor Georg Wegener visited India in 1898, 1906, and 1910 and met Surendranath Banerjea, who expressed his surprise about “so many uneducated and even stupid Britons ruling India.” Wegener related this story in a lecture before the Geographical Society of Berlin in July 1911, reflecting that Banerjea “had not understood at all that not the intellectual but the moral qualities of the British and the ethics and will power of the white man, all of which an Indian lacks, are the reasons for this rule.... India is that part of the earth where the supremacy of the white race over the coloured is most evident.” But the Germans and Indians were willing to set aside all these ideological differences for the sake of winning the war against the British and launching a successful revolution in India for independence.To cooperate with the Indians, Germans also had to overcome their great admiration for the British. From 1884, Germans had followed the British lead in maintaining an overseas empire, and with the development of Admiral Tirpitz’s high seas fleet, the Kaiser and the military and industrial elites in Germany were seeking their own imperial “place in the sun” as a global power. Hans Zache of the Kolonialinstitut of Hamburg viewed the British in India as a model for the German rule of their own colonies. Many military experts liked British rule in India, such as Count Hans von K?nigsmarck on the German General Staff who “after several visits to the East [starting in 1892] turned into an enthusiastic admirer of the British method of ruling the Asiatic people.” Thus the Indo-German connection during the First World War appears firmly locked in the Saidian frame of reference. Yet the hermeneutical consciousness, while less salient, also was present and had a longer history of formation in Germany. Germany’s heritage of Sanskrit scholarship was well known for revering Indian culture, or at least ancient Indian or “Aryan” culture as it contributed to German nationalism. How did Eurocentric, colonial German views fit in with the longer affinity of Indo-German contacts, stretching back at least to the Romantic era at the end of the eighteenth Century? The tensions within German attitudes toward India have to do with the differences between the “official Germans” of diplomatic and military circles and Germans who were influenced by the strain of India culture intensely studied by German scholars. On the one hand, as Barooah points out, <ext>educated Indians never got any sympathy for their political aspirations from the official Germans throughout the pre-War period.... The German diplomats in India being down-to-earth practical men of business had nothing to do with ancient Indian history and culture. One does not find in their reports a mention of Indology and its impact in Germany ... [and] many ... found some of the Hindu customs simply revolting. </ext>Nevertheless, emphasizing this cultural connection could have helped to bridge the gap between the two regions. In his 1917 booklet, Reventlow made reference to a rich Indo-German cultural connection: “The everlasting treasures [Sch?tze] of Indian mythology, philosophy, and literature which had done so infinitely much for the German philosophy and worldview, and indeed had won from it a basic foundation myth, count as an incontestable document to the Indian spirit.” It was thus fitting that several German Indologists exhibited a hermeneutical consciousness even while they actively participated in their political duties of wartime espionage, subversion, and intrigue. Helmuth von Glasenapp, who had just earned a Ph.D. in 1914 for “The Doctrine of Karma in Jain Philosophy,” worked with the Indians in Berlin during the war. He also made contacts with Indians interned in Prisoner-of-War camps south of Berlin in Wünsdorf und Zossen, which including some 4,000 Islamic prisoners from French and English colonies in the Halbmondlager [Crescent Camp]. Von Glasenapp was involved in an intense effort to spread pro-German propaganda among the prisoners. Part of these efforts included supporting religious services by building a mosque, the first in Germany. Von Glasenapp wrote about his literally hermeneutical wartime work: “My duties were very eclectic ... [to] daily read multiple newspapers.... I had specific Indological assignments ... to translate old and new brochures into various languages.” He wrote political glosses for a quarterly magazine Der neue Orient [The New Orient] using the pseudonym Anandavardhan Shastri, which he said meant “der wonnemehrende Gelehrte,” or “the greatly blissful sage.” It is significant that this German, in his efforts to mediate cultures, took an Indian name. Later in the war, when Chatto moved his activities to Stockholm, even though other Germans kept their distance, von Glasenapp traveled incognito under an alias to Sweden to do work for the Indians there. <ext>It was not advisable, that I travel under my own name, because I was afraid that the enemy could guess my plans, because my name through my articles in New Orient was no longer unknown.... I therefore went as a Persian carpet company salesman to Stockholm.... As a pseudonym I chose Herbert von Geldern [Funds] because the initials [HvG] would then match those on my clothes. </ext>Despite his precautions, a hotel waiter recognized von Glasenapp and greeted him using his real name, blowing his cover: “As I heard later, it should be an unwritten law for agents, that they do not eat or stay in the same hotel.” Nevertheless, despite this minor setback, von Glasenapp a.k.a. Geldern was able to meet with Chattopadhyaya und Acharya in Stockholm. Von Glasenapp was not the only German scholar working with the Indians; also active was the theology professor Rudolf Otto (1869–1937) of the University of G?ttingen, who after the war wrote books on Indian and comparative religious topics, including mysticism and the Bhagavadgītā. Significantly, there was mutual dislike between Otto and von Oppenheim, who wanted to keep Indian revolutionaries untainted with contact from the Foreign Office. The miscues with Har Dayal in Constantinople cast doubts about Indo-German interaction, as Barooah argues: <ext>The whole co-operation seemed to have been based on shaky foundations in the first place. Indians in Berlin were not happy to work under the direction of Baron Oppenheim.... There were many influential men outside who had their own schemes for an Indian revolt and who met the Indians privately to this end. With one of these men, Professor Rudolf Otto of G?ttingen, who himself disliked Oppenheim, some of the leading Indians had very good relations and they discussed their working problems with him. </ext>These German scholars sympathetic to the Indians could help bridge a cultural and ideological gap between Germans and Indians, but the Indians brought their own aversions to working with Europeans. Indians fighting for the British were critical of Europeans in letters home, in particular, “the familiar relations between the sexes and the apparent emptiness and superficiality of the Christian religion.” As a result of the deep Muslim concern that the British were asking them to fight against the Turkish caliph, the Muslim League moved closer to the Hindu nationalists by signing the Congress-League pact of 1916. This was a remarkable shift, as there continued to be considerable tension in the Hindu-Muslim relationship among Indians. The Muslim minority was afraid of having their needs ignored by the Hindu majority. Indians did not have false illusions about German benevolence. They knew that the Germans could also be tyrannical overlords in India like the British. Thus the Indian attitude toward the Indo-Germanic partnership reflected the tension Germans felt between their critical role as colonial Europeans and the hermeneutical, cultural interest in India. The imperial rivalry with Britain informed much of the German interaction with Indians. Oppenheim’s attitude toward Rudolf Otto, discouraging him from interacting with Indians in Germany was emblematic. If forced to choose, official critical interaction trumped cultural hermeneutics. Yet there were positive interactions during the interwar period, such as the visit by Rabindranath Tagore, for example. Barooah argues that <ext>Germany’s attitude towards the Indian freedom movement during the War was not a temporary one; it was to outlive the War and bring a broad and liberal understanding of the subject in the Germany of the Weimar Republic. As a result, the popular Indian image of Germany as a sympathetic country with respect for Indology remained intact ... the Indian Muslims began to be treated in the inner context of Indian history rather than of Pan-Islamism. </ext>Thus the Indo-German contact during the First World War reflected an uneasy relationship, on both sides. No major Indian independence figures sided with the Germans. The minor figures who did, such as Chatto and Har Dayal, eventually distanced themselves from the Germans so as to maintain their credibility as leaders. The Germans recognized this liability and shrewdly stepped back into the shadows, being willing enough to let Chatto run his operations from independent Sweden and not let the link to Berlin be so apparent. But there was a deeper feeling of half-heartedness in the German support for Indian revolutionaries. Helping them would aid victory in the war against Britain, if the plan to incite rebellion in India had worked. Widespread rebellion in India would have presented the British with a difficult dilemma: either to lose India or to withdraw troops from the Western Front and lose there. But the Germans’ hearts were more with the British as fellow Europeans than with the Indians. For Germans, free India meant India free of the British, preferably with the Germans in charge, not free for Indians. The Germans opposed the British out of political rivalry, not because they sympathized with Indians. As monarchists fond of a militaristic order, the Prussian Junker elites certainly brokered no sympathies whatsoever with the rabble mob, and even less so with the downtrodden natives in a colony, as the Herero in Southwest Africa found out in the first decade of the twentieth century. The Indo-German alliance during the First World War was mostly a marriage of convenience. Despite this troubled relationship, there was surprisingly a rather strong Indo-German connection in post-war fiction.Instances of both the critical and hermeneutical consciousness among Germans and Indians during the First World War can be found in the post-war Anglo-Indian literature about the conflict, such as in Mulk Raj Anand’s Across the Black Waters (1940) and W. Somerset Maugham’s Ashenden (1941). Anand (1905–2004) did not participate in the war, although his father Lall Chand Anand served as a Subedar in the seventeenth Dogras. Mulk Raj Anand was active in the Indian independence struggle, which influenced the novel’s anti-British perspective, as well as his portrayal of the Germans. Maugham (1874–1965), as a former participant in the war, gave a British perspective in this story about wartime espionage. Anand depicts the Indian colonial soldier, the sepoy, who is caught in a Saidian Orientalist dynamic, yet nevertheless seeks hermeneutically to understand his colonial British masters and their enemy, the Germans. In fact, it is through this sympathy with the Germans that the Indians overcome their subservience to the British, both politically and conceptually. Maugham, although British and an active participant in the war, also reveals elements of understanding and admiration, sentiments that indicate a hermeneutical portrayal even of his opponent, and perhaps a transcendence of his duty, even though he ends up following it.The reader may have already noticed that notably absent in this article are examples from German literature. We have examined various writings from von Glasenapp, Ewers, and Reventlow, but no major literary figures. German literature about modern India in the decades following the First World War is scarce, although it is much more prolific when focusing on ancient India. Two postwar texts, for example, take place in ancient, not modern, India: Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha (1922) is set in the time of the historical Buddha in the 6th century BCE while Thomas Mann’s The Transposed Heads: A Legend of India (1940) is in a timeless past. This emphasis of German literary writers on ancient India reflected the historicist concerns of German Indologists who studied India and made information about the Buddha and stories from Indian epics available to the German reading public. This ancient focus also had to do with the Romantic origins of German interest in India. What emerged in Mulk Raj Anand’s novel Across the Black Waters?was a harsh view of the British and a remarkably favorable representation of the Germans, considering the Indian sepoys were engaged in a war against the Germans. The novel reveals the deeper war the Indians were fighting, for self-respect against the “Sarkar”: the British government and the oppressive weight of colonial inequality and its concomitant fear of the British “sahibs” [sirs, masters]. Next to the relentless pressure of this anti-colonial struggle, even the horrors of trench warfare and the danger of imminent death appeared as transient and relatively inconsequential. It was the British who emerged as the real enemies of the Indian sepoys, not the Germans. The British were grateful for the sepoys being there to fight, and there was some camaraderie in the trenches between sepoys and Tommies, the British enlisted troops. But the trench camaraderie gradually disappeared the further away they were from the front lines and danger. Anand describes the strict separation between sepoy troops and British officers as a “rigid caste system” that a French boy did not understand when he invited the Indian sepoy Lalu to eat with the British, as “no Indian soldier could ever dare to aspire to such heights of dignity as to sit down to table with British officers.” Only one of the British officers, Captain Owen, was sympathetic: the exception that proved the general rule. Fear of officers extended to a general fear of all Europeans. While bathing, the sepoys were surprised to have a lighthearted exchange with local French women washing clothes nearby. The Indians were “usually so afraid of the white folk that they could not make the slightest gesture which might be considered disrespectful, self-effacing to the point of making themselves scarce, were now casual and hearty, almost as if they were at home.” Sepoys were amazed to see a larger degree of equality in Europe, where they received better treatment by the British than they did in India. Of the Europeans the sepoys encountered, it was the British who had been to India who most regarded sepoys as inferior. The British gave only pragmatic, grudging acknowledgement of the sepoys’ diverse religious faiths; when a Christian Bishop came to visit the unit, he preached mostly to the British soldiers there, “giving up the [Indian] heathen for lost.”A particularly painful point of contention for the sepoys was the Sarkar’s strong inhibitions against their romantic and sexual interactions with local French women. The sepoys faced informal punishment through unwritten laws as well as by court martial if they were even seen with European women. The French were less racist toward the African troops in their army than the British were to Indians. The Africans could talk to French women, while sepoys had to tread extremely warily. Likewise, the appreciative French were quite amicable to the sepoys, calling them “brave, very brave” and thinking of them an “ancient and civilized people with a great past culture behind them.” The interest of Lalu for European women extended to a painting of a nude European woman by Ingres, “La Source,” as well as a fine, live young woman, Marie, daughter of a friendly French family. But this friendliness caused Lalu anxiety about reprisals against him by the British officers. Despite these dangers, the sepoys were heartened to see how much the French liked them, especially the French women. Another way Anand highlighted the poor relations between British and Indians was to ridicule the characters who remained loyal to the British. The old sepoy Daddy Dhanoo, was loyal in a somnambulistic, extremely unflattering way. The root cause of his sad condition was his fidelity to the British, which Anand equated to a disease. “This all-pervading sense of ‘Duty’ spread like an invisible cancer through his system, the cancer which had eaten through him, till there was not much vitality left.” The old man only wanted to return to the homeland of India to be buried properly, but instead died far away in a strange land, a “horrible and lonely death,” drowned in a flooded trench. He did not die heroically or even get a proper burial, so his comrade Lalu was stricken by thoughts of Dhanoo’s ghost haunting him. Dhanoo’s fulfilling his duty to the British by fighting overseas prevented his proper burial, thus revealing an underlying conflict between a sepoy’s duty to the British and duty to his own traditions, a tension that was at the heart of the 1857 rebellion and subsequent resistance to the British until independence in 1947. Anand illustrated how sepoys exhibited their loyalty unthinkingly. “They were like conscripts, brutalized and willing to fight like trained bulls, but without a will of their own, like soulless automatons.” Loyalty to the British left one feeble and meek. Santu, the sepoy runner who brought food up to the troops in the trenches, “entertained the hope of recognition of his services for months ... struggling hard to give satisfaction,” claiming, “Truly the sahibs are wonderful.” Santu’s is reduced to a craven condition. “He had become a frightened, abject creature ... wincing and stepping back all a tremble ... meekly,” doing his duty for the British overlords. While ridiculing the loyalists, Anand portrayed many signs of resistance to the British among the sepoys, who mocked the British behind their backs, displaying cynical attitudes and resentment against orders. There were many minor criticisms of the British, including the weak firepower of their supporting artillery, as the English guns were inferior to those of the Germans. When he first entered the trenches, Lalu observed that British trenches were haphazard, “shapeless and irregular.” Later, when a sepoy refused to fight, a higher-ranking sepoy shot him to set an example. The sepoys critiqued the barracks army mentality, lamenting that shined boots seemed to be more important than loyalty or courage. The war itself provided even more important reasons than overzealous army discipline for the sepoys to question their European colonial masters. The sepoys were losing respect for Europe, its claim to superiority imploding under the massive destruction of the world war, leading sepoys to wonder why participants, including their European colonial masters, were killing each other so pointlessly. The novel reveals a curious lack of Indian sepoy animosity against the Germans. The Germans merged fairly seamlessly with the many other enemies the sepoys fought for the British, including tribesmen on the frontier of India, the Chinese, and even fellow Indians. The only statements made against the Germans, such as the Kaiser was an “incarnation of the devil” who had a “fiendish will to power,” appear in the text within quotation marks, suggesting that the sepoys considered them only British propaganda slogans, and did not really believe them to be true. The main character, Lalu, revealed the emptiness of these phrases for him. “The gap of thousands of miles of sea and the rich experience of wonder cities had come between those words and the present reality ... since he had really been eager to come to see Vilayat [Europe], and not because of the loud speeches” of the pro-British Indian recruiters. The sepoys were rather blasé about their German adversaries. “This was not a war for any of the religions of their inheritance, nor for any ideal which could fire their blood and make their hair stand on end. Ordered about by the Sarkar, they were as ready to thrust their bayonets into the bellies of the Germans as they had been to disembowel the frontier tribesmen, or their own countrymen, for the pound a month which the sahibs paid them.” At most, the sepoys were fighting for mercenary reasons, for medals, awards and the cash reward they granted, not because they believed in the British rule or bore a grudge against the Germans. The prevailing emotion the sepoys had towards the Germans was curiosity, not fear. The sepoys’ affinity for the Germans became more apparent when a German aircraft scattered leaflets in the trenches. A sepoy read one of the papers aloud. “The Sheikh-Ul-Islam has proclaimed a holy war ... at Mecca against the British, Russians and the French,” an effort joined by the Sultan of Turkey and the King of Afghanistan, and to continue fighting, they “commit irreligion.” This line of argument was not effective, as Dhayan Singh answered: “But we are Hindus.... What is the Sheikh of Mecca to us?” Yet even for the Muslim sepoys, the German pronouncements did not persuade, as the British were able to answer enemy Muslim leaders with their own proxies, the Hazrat Sherif of Mecca and the Arabs. Answering who was instigating these leaflets, a sepoy explained to his fellows regarding Chatto’s Berlin Committee that “The sahibs say that there are some scoundrels from Hindustan on the German side, agitators who have run away from the clutches of the law at home and prefer to work in the pay of the Kaiser than to go to the scaffold.” Rather than be outraged, Dhayan Singh was “intrigued” and says, “I would like to embrace them.” Lalu asked, “I wonder what the Germans are like to talk to?” The British clearly feared the effect of these leaflets as they ordered their confiscation and forbade talking about them, as several sepoys had deserted.Just as the sepoys felt a lack of animosity toward the Germans, the attitudes of the Germans were largely favorable toward the Indians, although there was some mutual fear between them. Germans feared the Indians for their fierce fighting skills, an image the British consciously cultivated to intimidate their enemy. “The Germans ... think we are all Gurkhas [elite troops from Nepal] with kukhries [curved fighting knives] in our mouths, savages who will creep up to them, take them by surprise and kill them. And the Sarkar is treating you as the shock troops for that reason.” Yet there were many indications of respect and even affection between the Indians and the Germans. During an assault, a German spared Lalu’s life when the German “had fixed his aim on him but hesitated and pulled the trigger only a little after Lalu” disappeared from view. There were two particularly striking scenes of friendly exchanges between sepoys and Germans in no-man’s-land between the trenches. The first was by the sepoy Rustam, who when the Germans spotted him on patrol, he<ext>salaamed [greeted] the Germans ... jumped into their trenches ... pointing to our trenches he abused the Angrez sahibs [British] and made a sign as if he meant to cut the throat of the whole Angrezi race. Whereupon the Germans were pleased and gave him sweets and coffee ... he told them there were other traitors in the Hindustani Army and got permission to go and bring them back with him. The Germans feasted him on meat and wine, and allowed him to creep back. </ext>The second communion scene took place during an unauthorized, spontaneous Christmas truce where Sepoys and Germans met in no-man’s-land to exchange gifts and sweets. This reconciliation and peaceful exchange among the Indian and German antagonists revealed their underlying human commonality in a touching hermeneutical moment. It took the angry intervention of the British officers to shut down the peaceful reunion of Aryan brothers. The culmination of this friendly interaction occurred at the very end of the novel, when the Germans captured the main character Lalu. Soldiers rarely surrendered, not only to avoid the grueling life of a prisoner of war, but because they so often never had the chance as each side rarely gave quarter in the ferociousness fighting of trench warfare, so Lalu’s survival suggests friendly feeling between the adversaries. Considering the recruitment efforts in Halbmondlager in Germany, it is conceivable that Lalu would certainly have been open to working for Chatto and his Berlin Committee of Indians against the British. One can partially explain the depiction of sepoys carrying more resentment against the British than against the Germans by considering when Anand wrote the novel, between January 1937 and December 1939, when the Indian Independence movement was not only well established but the Congress took office in six provinces in a temporary power-sharing agreement with the British. Anand published it in 1940, a year after the British unilaterally declared war against Germany in 1939 on behalf of India without bothering to consult its Indian leadership in the Indian National Congress, just as it had in the First World War. This time, fewer Indians were willing to wait patiently and support the British in hopes of gaining rewards for loyalty. In 1942, Indian politicians associated with the Congress resigned en masse and supported the “Quit India” movement rather than serve the British. There was considerable support for the former president of the Congress, Subhas Chandra Bose, who escaped to Nazi Germany and then Japanese Burma, where he led an army of liberation against the British. Across the Black Waters represents the fruition of the anti-British agitation that Chatto and his Berlin Committee sought to propagate. Its views parallel closely the attitudes and concerns of the anti-British Indian revolutionaries during the First World War, which carried on to the later, more widespread phases of the independence struggle.Another explanation for the hostility of the sepoys against the British and the lack of animosity against the Germans was the recruiting practices of the British in India. The ratio of British to Indian troops in India declined from 1:2 to 1:6 because of the manpower drain of shifting troops into Europe. Likewise, there were large recruiting drives in India, which shared the burden of India contributing troops to the war. By the end of the First World War, 1.27 million Indians served, including almost 827,000 combatants, or approximately 10 percent of the British Empire troops, of which 60,000 died. Indian troops fought on the Western Front in the crucial early phase of the war in 1914–1915, before the Indian infantry withdrew in 1915 to fight in other theaters such as in Egypt and Mesopotamia, leaving only a cavalry division, which did not see much fighting. Just as one can see in Anand’s work the hermeneutical efforts of cross-cultural encounter between Germans and Indians set against a critical Saidian context, the English writer W. Somerset Maugham also provides a venue to examine these contesting dynamics. Maugham, who worked as an agent in the British Secret Service during the war, engaged in a plot to lure Chatto across the border between Switzerland and France to meet a woman. A fictionalized version of this incident occurred in the “Giulia Lazzari” chapter in Maugham’s novel Ashenden, where Chatto appeared as Chandra Lala from Berlin, “the most dangerous conspirator in or out of India. He’s done more harm than all the rest of them put together. You know that there’s a gang of these Indians in Berlin; well, he’s the brains of it.” This was an accurate description of Chatto, yet Maugham also presented a fictional image of Chatto as an overweight “fanatic,” thus conforming to Orientalist stereotypes of being “grotesque,” “fat,” a “greasy little nigger.” Despite these hurtful epitaphs, Maugham’s fictional alter-ego did sympathize with Lal/Chatto. “That Indian fellow must be a rather remarkable chap.... One can’t help being impressed by a man who had the courage to take on almost single-handed the whole British power in India.... He’s aiming at freedom for his country ... it looks as though he were justified in his actions.” The agent’s superior, “R,” dismissed these remarks as “very far-fetched and morbid” and advised him, “I wouldn’t get sentimental about him if I were you. He’s nothing but a dangerous criminal.” Like Anand, Maugham depicted anxieties about Indo-European sexual liaisons. The agent “was surprised. For some reason he had expected her to be fair, perhaps from some notion that an Oriental would be more likely to fall for a blonde.” Lazzari was an Italian prostitute in this fictional story, but the actual woman involved was Miss Hilda Margaret Howsin of Reedness Manor, Yorkshire, an English friend of Chatto from 1907. Maugham apparently was trying to make the liaison less threatening to the British racial sensibilities. Not only was Chatto’s real love interest during the war English, but before the war, when he was studying law in London, from 1903 to 1909, Chatto lived together with an English woman as Mr. and Mrs. Chatterton. When they separated, he courted Miss Reynolds, who supported him financially, so he had a history of amorously crossing racial barriers. How did Maugham’s fictional account of the attempt to capture Chatto fit with what actually happened? Maugham’s Ashenden was arguably a wish fulfillment about how events could have turned out for the British. As it played out historically, there were intrigues, but the British failed to snare the prize, to actually take Chatto. There had been a recent precedent before the war; British intelligence services had successfully intrigued against Chatto’s revolutionary friend Vinayak Savarkar in 1910. Savarkar had been safe in Paris, but ignoring advice, returned to England and an arrest that led to almost three decades of prison and restricted movements. Likewise, with Maugham’s fictional attempt to capture Chatto, the account showed a masterful control of Giulia Lazzari, the bait and love interest of Chatto’s analog, Chandra Lal. The agent told Lazzari that she was “absolutely free” and left her in a hotel. Nevertheless, he had her every move secretly watched, and made arrangements so she was unable to flee across the lake at Lausanne to see her lover Chandra Lal, forcing him to come to her and into French custody. She was psychologically tormented, not wanting to be the bait, yet otherwise she faced prison for espionage. The agent threatened her and dictated a desperate letter for her to write to Lal. He eventually arrived on the ferry, but just as he was apprehended, realizing his predicament, he took poison. Thus one sees a fictional ending favorable for the British, but the reality of the British ability to keep their thumb over the specter of Indian independence was less sanguine, at least in the long run.Perhaps the greatest legacy Indo-German cooperation during the First World War had was on the Indian independence movement. “The young revolutionaries for the first time could make India a live issue in international politics, and made large segments of world opinion aware of India’s plight and sympathetic towards her aspirations. They also made valuable contacts with the revolutionary leaders and political figures of other countries.” Chatto had moved to Sweden and from the middle of 1917 his new base in Stockholm became the most important center of Indian revolutionary activities in Europe for the rest of the war. European Central Committee of Indian Nationalists, also known as the Indian National Committee in Sweden, enjoyed covert financing and contact from Germany, as well as pro-German public sympathy. Still, in contact with European socialists and Bolsheviks, they gained new freedom to go further in their propaganda than the Germans were willing to go while in Berlin. Indian revolutionaries had articulated arguments against British rule, juggled internal communal/religious disagreements, gained practice negotiating with another European colonial power, Germany, and struggled against the British counterintelligence forces. After this, even if they had not won their struggles, they had at least emerged as partners with the Germans. If young, relatively inexperienced revolutionary student leaders could do this with Germany, then the future looked bright for the independence struggle with Britain.The attitude of Germans toward Indians during the First World War reflected both hermeneutic efforts to bridge cultural divides, alongside a colonial power dynamic that conformed to a Saidian perspective. Germans both reached out to the Indians and also assumed the superior attitude of the British colonists they were seeking to displace. Indian revolutionaries, while willing to accept the help of Germans in their fight for Indian independence, also maintained the well-founded suspicion that if the Germans did remove the British from their control of India, these same Germans would have tried to usurp their place as European colonial sahibs. 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