History and the Present: Relevance of Akbar in our Troubled Times

Raziuddin Aquil 

Allahu Akbar: Understanding the Great Mughal in Today’s India, by Manimugdha Sharma, New Delhi: Bloomsbury, 2019.

Manimugdha Sharma’s book is a passionate plea for understanding the value of what he calls the magnificent rule of Mughal emperor, Akbar the Great (1556-1605). Working as a journalist with the Times of India in Delhi, the author offers, through his back and forth narrative, insights from Akbar’s reign relevant to the present.

Having conquered large parts of the subcontinent through aggressive political violence and amazing tactical alliances, Akbar was able to neutralise all possible opposition for the major part of his reign. He also subdued religious groups and leaders in such a way that they were brought within the ambit of the governing principles of the state. Yet, he practised an inclusive political culture which ensured unity in diversity of the kind cherished for long in India’s national imagination. 

The Mughal emperors’ sense of the responsibilities of the state and norms of governance are particularly important for understanding how they maintained political stability in the vast empire they founded, with a fledgling start in 1526 and brutal termination in 1857. For much of it, they ruled with equanimity, facilitating a flourishing economy and ensuring mutually respectful coexistence of a vast variety of people in large parts of the country. Military victories and open-mindedness in terms of conquest and governance were together shaped by the view that the rulers needed to dismount from their horses to govern equitably - establishing a just regime in which people were not discriminated against on religious grounds. 

Customary practices apart, people were considered equal in the eyes of God, whom the rulers claimed to represent, styling themselves with titles such as Zillullah, shadow of God, and invoking the most popular Islamic formula of Allahu Akbar, God is Great. Thus, even someone like Akbar was not steering clear of religion altogether. He was, indeed, conflating religious and political categories, even if we ignore the fanciful talk of a new religion, Din-i Ilahi - imaginatively dismissed by some historians as a palace cult not followed by even the most resourceful courtiers.

Contemporary early modern European emperors were showing light on how to move forward. Since rulers had enough power and resources to build vast empires, they also considered themselves capable of controlling and governing the lives of the people. Religious justification and legitimacy was not required for political actions (see Michel Foucault's Lecture on Governmentality). The state acted in its own interest and strove for well-being of subjugated people. This also meant that the state had the capacity to kill, but it would not let anyone die. Also, just as they did not need to guilotine people for not following a particular official religion, they would also not allow violent mobs brutalising each other on the streets and bazaars. 

Contrary to what Sharma suggests, for a multi-religious country like India, a complete separation of church and state, was not possible. Rulers like Akbar recognised the multiplicity of religious traditions and practices, which were often at odds with each other, but they were not allowed to dictate terms to political regimes. The latter did intervene in issues relating to religious beliefs and sentiments, but maintained critical equidistance from all of them (for more on this theme, consult Akeel Bilgrami). This is what went on to be a typically Indian version of secularism, which is, in other words, tolerance for a melange of religious practices and communities coexisting with each other. This was ensured by the much celebrated idea of Sulh-i Kul, which can be glossed as an ethical position that encouraged respect for difference in a context in which the political regime was confident of its own finality as a divinely ordained just rule.

As Sharma has rightly pointed out, the older nationalist celebration of Akbar’s greatness is now being abandoned in favour of an aggressive vilification in right-wing Hindutva propaganda; demonisation of the kind that was previously restricted to someone like Aurangzeb (1658-1707). This is disappointing as formidable rulers like Akbar and Ashoka have for long been part of Indian national narrative of its glorious past - large-scale empire-building informed by social and political theories of their own (vide Rajeev Bhargava). In cultural arena, this was illustrated through Sufis, mystics and Gurus such as Khwaja Muinuddin Chishti, Sant Kabir and Guru Nanak. These iconic figures, too, are now being discarded by people with no idea of the world around them, forget about any worthwhile understanding of the past. In modern times, the historic role of preaching peace for respectful coexistence of a large diversity of people was picked up in a big way by Mahatma Gandhi, who paid with his life for the cause he upheld - non-violence even under extreme provocation.

In our post-truth political and cultural context, publication of books which seek to seriously engage with the past as an intellectual exercise relevant to current politics is commendable. This is especially true as the secular, liberal and cosmopolitan credentials of the country's ruling classes are taking a back seat or being abandoned altogether. Following Arjun Appadurai, parts of it can be identified as the revolt of the new autocratic elites - frustrated and angry over their suppressed aspirations which, they believe, can be corrected by whatever means. Thus, all things cherished in the past are being systematically destroyed. Will this lead to a new and better dawn through a process of constructive destruction? Or, the "disaster capitalism" is herding us into an extended period of darkness without any guarantee of light or even life at the end of the tunnel? Certainly, there is urgent need to steer clear of the current wave of communalisation of religious practices and nationalisation of superstitious beliefs. Therefore, it is time to return to the history of political theory and governance for insights on how to wriggle out of the dead-end.

The professional historians, who are engaged in the production of knowledge as part of their disciplinary practice and for scholarly conversations within academic fraternities, do not generally write books for larger readership. Maintaining critical historical distance, they are expected to intervene in charged political debates in which abuse of the past is rampant. Most non-partisan historians do not succeed in this role. Most are unable to control their biases and prejudices either. For all we know, historians' commitment to any particular ideology of their time, for whatever their worth, is incompatible with objective history.

This, in turn, means that some issues are not critically thrashed for understanding what happened in the past and its contested legacy of crucial import in the present. As a mature society, we are required to come to terms with all the complexities of our past even if it sometimes involved violence, destruction and injustices - asking all questions and taking cognisance of all kinds of narratives and political positions, both in the past and the present. 

As it happens, authors of popular books enjoy wide readership, but they are not fully invested in rigorous historical research. They lack access to institutional wherewithal to deploy required apparatus and follow protocols of writing history of the kind expected from professional historians. Their writings are triggered by their passion and commitment for a better informed society. Writing from a strong secular position, Sharma offers a forceful reiteration of the urgent need to learn from the past to preserve the pluralistic character of India’s political culture and society. Those in the business of politics and government should definitely learn some lessons from the past for their own benefit, lessons of the kind derived from the extraordinary reign of Akbar. 

The great man ruled for fifty years. His more controversial great-grandson, Aurangzeb, ruled for another fifty. His son and grandson, naturalist Jahangir (1605-27) and stylish Shah Jahan (1627-1658) together presided over another fifty years or more in the first half of the 17th century. The empire itself took another 150 years (1707-1857) to decline and fall. Some bits of this historical experience and heritage are still relevant and can show the way to people in power on how to govern a vast country with so much diversity, without needing to massacre people to elicit complete submission. We need political stability, social security and economic well-being for all, whatever their creed. For God is supposed to have made them all and God knows best!

A shorter version has appeared in the Telegraph (Calcutta): https://m.telegraphindia.com/culture/books/book-review-allahu-akbar-understanding-the-great-mughal-in-todays-india-by-manimugdha-sharma/cid/1767493?ref=books_culture-books-page