Partitions: A Transnational History of Twentieth-Century Territorial Separatism

EDITED BY ARIE M. DUBNOV AND LAURA ROBSON

PARTITIONS

A Transnational History of Twentieth-Century Territorial Separatism

STANFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

STANFORD, CALIFORNIA

Stanford University Press

Stanford, California

©2019 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University.

All rights reserved.

This book has been partially underwritten by the Peter Stansky Publication Fund in British History. For more information on the fund, please see www.sup.org/stanskyfund.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system without the prior written permission of Stanford University Press.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Dubnov, Arie, editor. | Robson, Laura, editor.

Title: Partitions : a transnational history of twentieth-century territorial separatism / edited by Arie M. Dubnov and Laura Robson.

Description: Stanford, California : Stanford University Press, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references and index.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018035357 (print) | LCCN 2018036465 (ebook) | ISBN 9781503607682 (e-book) | ISBN 9781503606982 (cloth : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781503607675 (pbk. : alk. paper)

Subjects: LCSH: Partition, Territorial—History—20th century. | Palestine—History—Partition, 1947. | Ireland—History—Partition, 1921. | India—History—Partition, 1947. | Great Britain—Colonies—History—20th century. | Decolonization—History—20th century.

Classification: LCC KZ4028 (ebook) | LCC KZ4028 .P37 2018 (print) | DDC 341.4/2—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018035357

Typeset by Newgen in 10.75/15 Adobe Caslon

Cover design by Christian Fuenfhausen

Cover art by Piotr Debowski, Shutterstock

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Maps

Introduction

Drawing the Line, Writing Beyond It: Toward a Transnational History of Partitions

ARIE M. DUBNOV AND LAURA ROBSON

PART I: Origins and Genealogies

1. From Minority to Nation

FAISAL DEVJI

2. The Architect of Two Partitions or a Federalist Daydreamer? The Curious Case of Reginald Coupland

ARIE M. DUBNOV

3. The Meat and the Bones: Reassessing the Origins of the Partition of Mandate Palestine

MOTTI GOLANI

PART II: Distances Transversed

4. Indian Ulsterisation—Ireland, India, and Partition: The Infection of Example?

KATE O’MALLEY

5. Close Parallels? Interrelated Discussions of Partition in South Asia and the Palestine Mandate (1936–1948)

LUCY CHESTER

6. Analogical Thinking and Partition in British Mandate Palestine

PENNY SINANOGLOU

PART III: Acceptance, Resistance, and Accommodation

7. Rejecting Partition: The Imported Lessons of Palestine’s Binational Zionists

ADI GORDON

8. Arab Liberal Intellectuals and the Partition of Palestine

JOEL BEININ

9. Poets of Partition: The Recovery of Lost Causes

PRIYA SATIA

Epilogue

Partitions, Hostages, Transfer: Retributive Violence and National Security

A. DIRK MOSES

Notes

Suggestions for Further Reading

Contributors

Index

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This collection has been a long time in the making, and we owe debts to the many institutions and people who helped along the way. Some of the chapters were first prepared for the workshop Partitions: Towards A Transnational History of Twentieth Century Territorial Separatism, which took place at Stanford University’s Humanities Center, April 18–19, 2013. Others grew out of conversations that began at the International Seminars on Decolonization, sponsored by the National History Center, the American Historical Association, and the John W. Kluge Center of the Library of Congress. We are grateful to Aron Rodrigue, Amir Eshel, and Kristen Alff, each of whose help was crucial to kicking off the project, and to Dane Kennedy for his commentary and camaraderie. At Stanford University Press, Margo Irvin deserves an additional note of appreciation for her generous support and sedulous work, from initial review through production to the final product. We also thank our institutional homes, the Departments of History at George Washington University and Portland State University, for their support throughout this process.

Above all, we extend our sincere gratitude to the civic-minded contributors to this volume, for their perseverance throughout the prolonged process of turning abstract ideas into an actual book and for their long-term commitment to the joint project. The subject matter we have chosen to investigate—which demands not only familiarity with a large number of archival depositories but also linguistic skills and regional expertise beyond the abilities of a single individual—necessitates a group effort. But more crucially, it requires scholars willing to step outside their comfort zones to engage in an unusual transnational inquiry and work together toward a common vision. We are delighted to have the opportunity to thank all of them for making this project such an intellectually rewarding journey.

MAPS

Map 1a   Ireland before 1921

Map 1b   The Free Irish State and Northern Ireland and the 1925 Irish Boundary Commission Line

Map 2a   Royal Commission Partition Plan, 1937

Map 2b   United Nations Partition Plan for Palestine (Resolution 181 (II)), 1947

Map 3a   The British Raj, 1919–1947

Map 3b   The Partition of India and Pakistan, 1947

INTRODUCTION

DRAWING THE LINE, WRITING BEYOND IT

Toward a Transnational History of Partitions

Arie M. Dubnov and Laura Robson

THE MODERNITY OF PARTITION

Partition is having a moment. In the past twenty years, the idea of physically dividing territories along ethno-religious lines as a solution to communal strife has suddenly reemerged, conveniently divorced from its disastrously violent history, as a fashionable technique of conflict resolution. From the former Yugoslavia to Syria, from Israel/Palestine to Sudan, varying forms of internationally organized, ethnically based re-divisions of territory have repeatedly been proposed—and in some cases implemented—as useful tools for solving intractable ethnic conflicts.¹ Such contemporary discussions depict partition as a logical and even inevitable, if regrettable, answer to widely divergent but equally difficult problems of ethnic strife across the globe. But it was not always so. Far from representing a natural solution to ethnic discord, the concept is no more than a hundred years old.

The idea of partition as an answer to ethnic, national, and sectarian conflict emerged for the first time out of the new conversations surrounding ethnicity, nationhood, and citizenship during and immediately after the First World War, against a backdrop of European imperial politics. The wartime collapse of the old central European and Ottoman empires and the emergence of new notions of the nation-state highlighted an essential paradox: the rise of new anticolonial nationalisms and a formidable discourse of national sovereignty at precisely the same moment that the power, authority, and ambition of the British and French empires were reaching their zenith. Facing this difficulty, the political and diplomatic leadership of the old Great Powers began envisioning a new global order comprising self-consciously modern, sovereign, more-or-less ethnically homogenous states under the continued economic authority of the old imperial players.² The multiple treaties of the immediate post–World War I era (encompassing Versailles, Sèvres, and Lausanne; the many minorities treaties with Eastern Europe; and the League of Nations mandate agreements under which much of the Middle East would be governed for the next three decades) collectively articulated a new internationalist vision that bore the imprint of both nationalist discourse and imperial ambition, with the unspoken intention of containing the former and extending the latter.³

These agreements promoted a new political language of ethnic separatism as a central aspect of national self-determination, while protecting and disguising continuities and even expansions of French and, especially, British imperial power.⁴ The partition of Ireland in the early 1920s thus emerged alongside discussions of mass population resettlement in Iraq and Syria; brutal population exchanges between Bulgaria and Greece and between Greece and Turkey; and new borders and categories of minority and majority in Poland, Romania, and other former Habsburg and Russian imperial territories. All these contributed to an imperially sponsored remaking of the global order that embraced a number of ways to align national populations with political borders (always under external supervision): population transfer, mass deportation, forcible denationalization, and partition, all legitimized by a political narrative of self-determination for national populations and protections for newly designated minorities.⁵

Partition, then, belonged firmly within the imperial realm; it was less a vehicle for national liberation than a novel, sophisticated dīvide et imperā tactic that sought to co-opt the new global tilt toward the ethnic nation-state. As such, the meaning of partition necessarily shifted after a second world war and the concomitant collapse of British imperial rule. Schemes originally conceived as part of a new type of imperial governance in the guise of internationalism seemed, after 1945, to offer quick and efficient exit strategies that also held out the tantalizing possibility of continued postcolonial influence for Britain. Following the Second World War, two further partitions were proposed and partially enacted in the decolonizing territories of India-Pakistan and Palestine-Israel, accompanied by a level of violence and dislocation unprecedented in either place (though perhaps matched by the brutality of the almost simultaneous mass population expulsions in Eastern Europe). By midcentury, the political solution of partition had arrived with a vengeance.

This volume examines the three earliest and most prominent instances of partition—Ireland, India, and Palestine—in tandem. Our goal is to understand why and how this moment of partition occurred—that is, why partition emerged as a proposed solution for perceived or real communal and ethno-national conflict across these disparate geographical and political spaces at this particular historical moment. Making use of the transnational framework of the British Empire, the central originary space for the idea of partition, this volume seeks to go beyond side-by-side comparisons to find concrete connections among the three cases: the mutual influences, shared personnel, economic justifications, material interests, and political networks that propelled the idea of partition forward, resulted in the violent creation of (theoretically) ethnically specific postcolonial political spaces, and set the stage for subsequent partitions in other places like Germany, Korea, and Vietnam. Such a juxtaposition of cases allows us to understand partition as a transnational rather than a local phenomenon, a consequence of decolonization and the global upheavals of the interwar era, rather than as an expression of permanently incompatible ethnic or religious identities in benighted areas of the world.⁶ In other words, this volume seeks to move the scholarship beyond area studies as well as the nationalist frameworks that served in the first instance to promote partition as a natural phenomenon and have buttressed its political formulations ever since.

THE IRELAND-PALESTINE-INDIA TRIANGULAR: A CHRONOLOGY

First, we must clarify our terms. Partition, in its modern sense, does not mean simply a redivision or new allocation of territory.⁷ Though a number of pre–twentieth-century instances of carving up territory—for instance, the oft-cited dissolution of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth via its forcible division into three separate territories in the late eighteenth century—have been commonly designated as partitions, they did not constitute partition in our terms: that is, they did not devolve real political authority onto local populations newly defined as national. This is what differentiates the many earlier imperial divisions of territory for administrative purposes from the modern partitions of the twentieth century: Ireland, India, Korea, Vietnam, and Germany. As sociologist Robert Schaeffer has put it, The simultaneous devolution and division of power is what distinguishes partition . . . from the division of other countries in previous times.⁸ Political scientist Brendon O’Leary, in demarcating partition from other, related phenomena such as secession, decolonization, and political or military disengagement, offers a further specification of intent: The ostensible purpose of a political partition, its formal justification, is that it will regulate, that is reduce or resolve a national, ethnic or communal conflict.⁹ Indeed, one notable aspect of the rhetoric of partition is its frequent naturalization through a language of biology and science—for instance, the much-repeated medical metaphor depicting partition as a surgery intended to cure the sickness of ethnic violence.¹⁰

By this definition, post–World War I Ireland represented the first instance of partition in its modern sense. The Irish partition arose from both a local and an international context: the long-standing set of domestic demands for new forms of national representation and the immediate circumstances of war, both featuring a backdrop of increased violence. From the 1880s, a vast majority of Ireland’s electorate had favored some form of what had come to be called Home Rule—Irish self-government within the administrative framework of the United Kingdom and the British Empire. The quest for such autonomy, of course, was complicated not only by the reluctance of Whitehall to allow for Irish sovereignty but also by continued resistance from the long-standing Protestant settler community centered in Ulster and other parts of Northern Ireland and backed by English political and economic interests.¹¹ After decades of negotiation, the Home Rule Bill—the third legislative attempt to secure Irish autonomy—passed in the House of Commons in 1914, only to be suspended as a consequence of war in Europe.

World War I created new conditions for Irish nationalism in the form of heightened demands from the British center for resources and men, alongside intensified international political rhetoric about the rights of small nations and the question of self-determination. Two years into the war, the Irish Republican Brotherhood staged a military takeover in Dublin—the Easter Rising of 1916—and declared the establishment of an Irish Republic, a move that brought a vigorous and violent response from the metropole.¹² Two subsequent attempts to implement the 1914 act in a way that would exclude the Protestant-dominated Ulster counties failed. In the immediate aftermath of the war, the pro-independence Sinn Féin party won a majority in the 1918 general election and declared a separate parliament. The nationalists’ increased use of guerrilla tactics, met by increasingly brutal counterinsurgency methods, not only aroused controversy in Britain but also exposed internal divisions within Sinn Féin and among supporters of republicanism. In the words of one historian, this declaration of war on behalf of the legitimate government of a ‘virtually established’ republic entailed a new kind of struggle—not for some measure of Home Rule to which the British government might accede, but a struggle for ‘freedom’ that would be total.¹³

The subsequent multilateral conflict among revolutionary republicans, Ulster Unionists, and the British Army was thus a consequence as much as a cause of the wartime violence.¹⁴ Events unfolded rapidly: in December 1920, the Government of Ireland Act created separate Northern and Southern Irelands by setting up two devolved parliaments: one in Belfast for the six northeastern counties and another in Dublin, linked by a Council of Ireland. Initially, nationalists ignored it, and the violence continued. Militarily, however, the conflict was notably asymmetrical, with little concrete achievement and broad demoralization on the Irish side, especially as it became clear that Ulster Unionists were succeeding in making a separate north a fact on the ground. At the same time, the British realized that it was unsustainable to permanently govern the southern counties as a Crown Colony under martial law.

As a possible solution to the deadlock, an increasing number of British policy advisors advocated for Dominion status that would grant Ireland some autonomy but keep it within the Commonwealth. The following autumn, after a truce between the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and the British Army, Éamon de Valera accepted David Lloyd George’s invitation to represent Ireland at a conference in London to determine how the association of Ireland with the community of nations known as the British Empire may best be reconciled with Irish national aspirations.¹⁵ The resulting Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921 led to the establishment of a separate Irish Free State the following year. Comprising twenty-six of the thirty-two counties of Ireland, this free state was in fact a Dominion of the British Commonwealth of Nations and remained subordinate to the British Parliament until the eventual declaration of the Republic of Ireland in 1949.

Partition in Ireland, then, was a consequence both of decades of negotiation between Ireland, its Protestant settlers, and the British imperial state and of the violent context of the political, economic, and military pressures of global war; and debates about the partition settlement were often concerned with the limitations imposed on Irish nationalist aspirations and the precise meaning of Ireland’s allegiance to the Crown and the Commonwealth. Many of its nationalist defenders understood the agreement as a temporary measure, an unfortunate but necessary step toward a different final status. Even the unyielding republican Michael Collins, veteran of long years of military struggle against the British, accepted the principles of the treaty because it gave the Irish freedom—not, he explained, the ultimate freedom that all nations desire and develop to, but the freedom to achieve it.¹⁶ The thankless task of drawing a line on the map separating the two Irelands was left for later and would not be accomplished until after the ensuing civil war finally came to a halt in November 1925.¹⁷ These two peculiar features—seeing partition merely as an interim step on the road to a final settlement and leaving the determination of an actual border until the final stage—would be recurring aspects of twentieth-century partitions, making appearances in the subsequent British divisions of both Palestine and India. Partition, it appeared, led not to the stabilization of conflict but to landscapes of long-term geopolitical deferral.

Nevertheless, its appeal was growing. At the moment of Irish partition, the newly formed League of Nations was engaging in the process of drawing (theoretically) ethnically determined borders in eastern Europe; at the very same time civil war raged in Ireland, the League’s representatives at Lausanne were formalizing international support for a de facto ethnic cleansing as a mode of nation-state creation through a brutal forced population exchange between Greece and Turkey.¹⁸ In the interwar era, such large-scale transfers of entire communities came to serve as both a rhetorical legitimation and a practical mode of imperial and/or internationalist intervention; and partition now emerged as a parallel solution that was viable precisely because its proponents on all sides spoke the postwar language of self-government and ethnic nationalism.¹⁹ The apparent success of the Irish model—measured primarily by the cessation of war—allowed the abstract idea of partition to enter into the interwar toolbox of nation-building strategies alongside other, related approaches of the moment: population exchanges, mass deportation, forcible denationalization, minority rights treaties, and refugee resettlement.²⁰

Thus it happened that following World War II, as Britain prepared to withdraw from Palestine and India under the most favorable circumstances it could manage, the devolution of power onto newly partitioned states emerged as a possible solution to the problem of assigning power in the context of disintegrating British authority and an international enthusiasm for ethnic nation-statehood. Subsequent British partitions of these colonial territories would combine the models of Ireland and Lausanne, with proposals for the transfer of inconvenient populations in addition to forcible territorial division into separate states—an approach that would exponentially magnify the violence of partition as the task of carving out physically separate political entities on the ground and making them ethnically homogenous devolved onto local actors with everything to lose.

The case of Palestine, where partition was first proposed in 1937 and partially implemented in 1947/1948, echoed Ireland and foreshadowed India. Like Ireland, Palestine’s partition involved an important settler colonial element; like India, it involved a longer history of British colonial imposition of communal legal and political distinctions. As in both other instances, partition was proposed at a time of anxiety and violence both locally and globally; the strikes that inaugurated the 1936–1939 revolt provided the initial pretext for the exploration of partition, and fears about an approaching war in Europe had much to do with the urgency of the British desire to put an end to the uprising in Palestine. Once again, partition emerged as a solution to ethno-communal divisions in the context of an emerging and unstable international/imperial system built around the rhetorical principle of ethnic nation-statehood.

Palestine began to see Zionist immigration from Europe in the late nineteenth century, around the same time that the British government began to explore the possibility of incorporating Palestine into the empire on the grounds of its strategic location vis-à-vis Egypt and India. The First World War offered the relevant imperial opportunity, and the Zionist movement seemed a potential ally. In November 1917, a month before the British Army entered the gates of Jerusalem, British foreign secretary Arthur J. Balfour penned a letter (with the approval of the British War Cabinet) to the London-based Zionist leader Walter Rothschild committing the British government to the cause of large-scale Jewish immigration into Palestine with a view to creating a Jewish national home. The use of such vague, open-ended terms provided both British and Zionist politicians with considerable room for political maneuvering; Balfour himself, defending what came to be known as the Balfour Declaration to the House of Lords, described it as an exciting experiment and adventure, an exercise in imperial imagination and territorial expansion.²¹ In July 1922, the Balfour Declaration’s commitment to mass European Jewish settlement in Palestine was ratified by the League of Nations document that incorporated the wording of the declaration into the legal instrument that gave Britain mandatory authority over Palestine. A few months later, the League endorsed an additional British memorandum separating Palestine, now defined as the area between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean, from a newly created Transjordan and exempting the latter from the strictures of the Balfour promise.

The text of the Palestine mandate maintained some older Ottoman practices of communally conscious political organization, making provisions for individual communities to maintain schools and religious institutions such as waqfs and guaranteeing government recognition of religious holidays. More radically, it provided a framework of ethno-national sovereignty for the settler population (but not indigenous citizens, unless they happened to be Jewish) and explicitly tied political rights to communal affiliation. Acknowledging and incorporating the Balfour Declaration, the League declared, "The Mandatory shall be responsible for placing the country under such political, administrative and economic conditions as will secure the establishment of the Jewish national home, as laid down in the preamble, and the development of self-governing institutions, and also for safeguarding the civil and religious rights of all the inhabitants of Palestine, irrespective of race and religion" (emphasis added). In this context, state- and empire-building were not mutually exclusive projects; and Zionists set to work immediately, with British encouragement, to develop new proto-state institutions of self-government made possible by the new British military occupation of Palestine and supported by the League. In the view of the Palestinian political elite, of course, the Balfour declaration was fundamentally illegitimate from the beginning—as, indeed, was the division of Palestine from Syria, the carving out of Transjordan, the British military occupation, and the mandate itself. For the next three decades, Palestinian activists would find themselves fighting a rearguard action against these founding documents of the Palestine mandate, which legally enshrined the principle that Jewish identity conferred particular political rights not shared by Muslim and Christian Arabs.

As the mandatory state was established, its British architects further formalized and institutionalized this legal and political distinction between the Jewish settler community (the Yishuv) and the indigenous Arab community. Under mandate rule, the Yishuv enjoyed a number of collective rights and privileges not extended to Arabs: a recognized internal legislative assembly, explicitly nationalist schools and language policies, a flag, and a military wing. The attempts made by the first British high commissioner, the pro-Zionist Herbert Samuel, to establish a pro forma legislative assembly immediately became a site of resistance as it became clear that the envisioned government would give the small Jewish minority, representing about 10 percent of the population in 1920, the same number of legislative seats as the Arab majority and would have no right even to discuss the framing of the mandate (i.e., the core issues of Zionist immigration and land sales).²² The stated commitment of Labor Zionism, the most important political faction in the Yishuv after 1920, not to employ Arabs in any capacity on Jewish-held settlements and land (though often not successfully enacted) further divided the communities and resulted in a segregated and highly inequitable labor market.²³ Land sales to Zionists dispossessed large numbers of Arab peasants, whose migration to cities in search of work created rings of slums around many of Palestine’s major urban centers.²⁴ In 1929, these tensions led to violence, with the outbreak of Arab-Jewish riots at the Western Wall that killed nearly 250 people and injured hundreds more.

In the spring of 1936, an Arab general strike brought the country to a standstill and quickly turned into huge anti-Zionist and anti-British demonstrations, leading the colonial government significantly to expand its military presence in Palestine.²⁵ To crush the demonstrators, the British began to deploy some of the counterinsurgency methods they had developed in prepartition Ireland, including recruiting former members of the notoriously brutal Black and Tans to join the Palestine Police Force.²⁶ Facing widespread and organized Arab resistance, the British government appointed a royal commission to investigate the causes of the unrest and make a recommendation about future British policy for Palestine. The Conservative politician and former secretary of state for India Robert Peel headed the commission, which arrived in Palestine in November and spent several months traveling around the country and interviewing prominent members of the Zionist and Arab political elites, as well as discussing the situation with local British government officials. In 1937 the commission published its findings, with a nearly four-hundred-page report detailing the increasingly violent and hostile conditions on the ground and proposing a solution: partitioning Palestine into separate Arab and Jewish states. This particular scheme combined the principles of partition and transfer: it was to be made possible not only by the Zionist acquisition of huge amounts of Arab territory, but also by the forcible expulsion of somewhere on the order of 300,000 Arabs (versus about 1,250 Jews) to create a Jewish majority in the proposed Jewish state (see map 2a).

The idea of some kind of division of territory was not new; it had been mooted before by both Zionist and British officials, as detailed in several chapters of this book, and was predicated on earlier cantonization proposals. Broadly speaking, though the delegates of that year’s Zionist congress were unwilling to accept the territorial specifics of the Peel Commission plan, believing the land provided for the Jewish state to be insufficient, they accepted the principle of partition and empowered the leadership to continue negotiations with the intention of eventually achieving a more favorable deal. But there were opponents of partition within the Zionist camp, including Revisionist leader Vladimir (Ze’ev) Jabotinsky, whose objections rested equally on his commitment to Zionist claims over the whole of historic Palestine, including Transjordan, and his anxiety about the implications of internationally sanctioned transfer for eastern and Central Europe’s vulnerable Jewish communities. From a Jewish point of view, he explained, [transfer] is nothing short of a crime. While the Royal Commission babbles about the ‘instructive precedent’ (that is, the expulsion of more than a million Greeks from Turkey) we witness yet another case in which it toys with concepts that none of its members have any idea about.²⁷

And, of course, the partition and transfer proposal aroused immediate and implacable opposition among Palestinian Arabs, who viewed it as little more than outright theft. As Palestinian anger and the revolt both intensified, the British administration began to reconsider its position and sent in yet another commission of inquiry (the Woodhead Commission, sometimes mockingly dubbed the re-Peel Commission), which eventually abandoned the idea. It was only a decade later, in a very different international and local context, that the almost forgotten scheme was reintroduced. In 1947, the strapped and exhausted British government—facing down right-wing Zionist militias engaged in terrorist attacks against both Arab and British targets in Palestine, and just off its recent imperial experiment in partitioning India—announced its intention to withdraw. The question of Palestine’s disposition was turned over to the newly formed United Nations (UN), as the natural successor to the League that had engineered the original mandate. Partition had transcended its original context and transformed from a British imperial tactic into an organizing principle of post–World War II world diplomacy.

The United Nations Special Committee on Palestine (UNSCOP)—made up of representatives of eleven states, including Australia, Iran, Yugoslavia, Sweden, and Guatemala—found itself feted by Zionist leaders making every effort to influence the committee to support the principle of partition and dismissing the many alternative binational and federalist proposals put forward by the Marxist-Zionist movement Hashomer Ha’tzair and intellectuals such as Judah L. Magnes, Martin Buber, and others affiliated with the Ihud (Unity) party.²⁸ The eviscerated Palestinian Arab political leadership, unanimously opposed to the concept of partition, refused to participate in the undertaking on the grounds that the UN had no legal jurisdiction over Palestine and the question should be turned over to an international court.²⁹

Facing this radical imbalance of evidence and opinion, UNSCOP members found it hard to reach a consensus and ended up submitting two reports: a minority proposal recommending a unitary federal state, and a majority proposal, inspired by the decade-old Peel Commission plan, recommending partition. The majority report envisioned a three-way division of Palestine, with an Arab state comprising 43 percent of the mandate territory, including the highlands and one-third of the coastline; a Jewish state encompassing 56 percent of the territory and including the northern coast, the eastern Galilee, and most of the Negev; and a corpus separatum including Jerusalem and its surrounds, which would be subject to some form of international authority. In describing the plan, the commission members noted that it suffered from many of the same problems the Peel Commission’s proposal had encountered—most centrally, the presence of large numbers of Arabs in the proposed Jewish state.

UNSCOP’s partition plan was voted through the UN General Assembly in November 1947, with India and Pakistan against the plan, the United Kingdom abstaining, and the United States and the USSR in favor. The first violent clashes signifying the beginning of the 1948 war—dubbed the War of Independence by Israelis and the nakba (catastrophe) by Palestinians—followed immediately. Essentially, the violence unfolded in two stages: first a civil war between local Arab Palestinian and Zionist forces between the partition vote and May 1948,³⁰ when British forces were still in Palestine preparing for their final evacuation, and then a broader Arab-Israeli conflict following a declaration of war by the surrounding Arab states. Zionist forces moved quickly to secure territory assigned to them by the UN plan and beyond, working against poorly organized and poorly armed Arab militias handicapped not only by their long-institutionalized economic, political, and military disadvantages vis-à-vis the Yishuv, but also by the virtual decapitation of the Palestinian Arab political leadership by the British military during the revolt.

By the time Israel emerged as the clear victor, thousands had been killed on both sides, and Zionist paramilitary groups—transformed into the nascent Israel Defense Forces during the war—had forcibly expelled approximately 750,000 Palestinian Arabs from their newly claimed territory, which extended well beyond the bounds of the Jewish state envisioned in the 1947 UN plan (see map 2b). This mass expulsion of Palestinians created an acute and still unresolved refugee crisis across the region and effectively partitioned mandatory Palestine into an Israeli state, an Egyptian-occupied Gaza, and a Jordanian-occupied West Bank.³¹ The total incapacity of the newly formed UN to implement the partition plan led officials to try to recast themselves as mediators and supervisors of the truce and armistice agreements, a task at which they proved equally incapable. Partition had turned a difficult local and regional conflict into an apparently insoluble international one.

The simultaneity of partitions in Palestine and British India is striking: Pakistan gained independence on August 15, 1947, just two months after UNSCOP’s members arrived in Palestine to begin their investigations.³² And as in Ireland and Palestine, the eventual partition of the Indian subcontinent emerged, quite suddenly, from both colonial histories and immediate local circumstances. From the late nineteenth century, British imperial rule over India encouraged a reimagining of often-intermingled Hindu and Muslim populations as distinct and separate political communities. In particular, a series of British decisions about colonial legislative representation—including, rather ominously, the communally conscious division of Bengal into Muslim- and Hindu-majority territories in 1905—helped to encourage a wide range of local communalisms, many of which made use of indigenous traditions to support the emergence of communally conscious and even communally exclusive political structures from the 1920s on.³³ This narrative of separate Hindu and Muslim subject nations had parallels in other parts of the empire, from Africa to Iraq, and constituted an important influence on an increasingly explicit international discourse of ethnic nation-statehood in the interwar period.³⁴

Though electoral competition and negotiation over Hindu and Muslim interests (broadly represented by the Indian National Congress and the All India Muslim League) had been a main feature of the Indian political landscape since the 1920s, the so-called two-nation theory did not emerge as a central component of Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s political program until 1940—like the previous two partitions, in the context of global war.³⁵ Scholars have debated the extent to which Jinnah’s adoption of a language of separatism represented a real claim for nation-statehood or merely a bargaining chip in the negotiations over postcolonial representation; either way, it soon took on a life of its own.³⁶ In 1946, following a significant electoral victory on the part of the Muslim League and Jinnah’s declaration of a Direct Action Day to demonstrate the strength of Muslim political feeling, Muslim-Hindu violence broke out in Calcutta.

The bloodshed and the clear and dramatic loss of imperial control influenced the British decision to withdraw from India earlier than originally planned, leaving just a few short months to determine the shape of the postcolonial state or states. Partition now became a topic of intense debate within the Congress-led government as well as among Louis Mountbatten, Jinnah, and Jawaharlal Nehru, with Mohandas Gandhi in vehement opposition. Even at this late date, there was considerable opposition to the idea of partition within the Muslim-majority provinces whose legislators voted on the concept in June 1947.³⁷ As historian Ayesha Jalal has pointed out, Jinnah now had to choose between a unified Indian state with no safeguards for Muslim political participation or a maimed, mutilated and moth-eaten separate Pakistan to be constructed from Muslim areas of the Punjab and Bengal.³⁸ So, under pressure of time, Jinnah, Nehru, and Mountbatten signed off on a plan to partition the subcontinent into two states (see map 3b), on the assumption that the creation of Pakistan would free the Congress from any requirement to acknowledge Muslim political claims in the new India. The exact geographical disposition of the territory was left to the British lawyer Cyril Radcliffe, whose new borders were not made public for two days after formal independence at midnight on August 15, 1947. As the details emerged, the subcontinent descended into communal carnage.

The full human toll of the Indian partition will never be known. Its violence displaced something like fifteen million people and killed between one and two million; some seventy-five thousand women and girls were raped, and millions of refugees were left impoverished. Partition permanently altered the landscapes of the territories now labeled India and Pakistan: Karachi, which had been nearly half Hindu in 1941, had almost no Hindus left by 1950, and Delhi’s Muslim denizens—once a third of the city’s population—largely disappeared. And, of course, like all other partitions, it laid the groundwork for further future conflict. Hindu-Muslim violence has continued to recur in northern and western India; India and Pakistan have fought three wars since 1947, one of which resulted in the bloody secession of East Pakistan (now Bangladesh); and insurgency and unrest continue in the disputed territory of Kashmir. Both states, incidentally, now possess nuclear capabilities.³⁹

INTERPRETING PARTITION: IMPERIAL, NATIONAL, AND INTERNATIONAL APPROACHES

Since Palestine was divided in 1948, there have been any number of further partitions in our sense: Korea, Cyprus, Germany, Yugoslavia, and Sudan, to name just a few. A transnational study of these first three partitions, though, provides the clearest possible view of the origins of this idea as a strategy of British imperial rule across different territories, with Zionism as a crucial intellectual linchpin between Ireland and India. It also sheds light on how partition moved from theory to practice as decolonization unfolded and the nation-state became the default mode of political organization. The model of partition as a solution to ethno-national conflict was later exported elsewhere—in many cases via the imperially inflected venues of international high politics⁴⁰—and tended to reflect the trajectories and structural features of the Irish, Palestinian, and Indian cases.

In all three of these instances, as in many later iterations, partition emerged as an essentially ad hoc response to local, imperial, and international conditions; was enacted by mass violence; and utterly failed to solve the problems it purported to address.⁴¹ Likewise, in all three instances, partition was interpreted as a necessary evil for the emergence of viable ethno-national states; as a protection for the rights of ethnic or religious minorities (itself a fundamentally twentieth-century concept); and as a natural solution that required little in the way of historical explanation beyond the apparent existence of intractable, atavistic ethnic or religious conflict. A study of these three paradigmatic examples thus requires us to think not only about the genealogy of the concept of partition, but also about how it has been presented, defended, and remembered within a postcolonial framework—and, centrally, how it came to occupy its current position as a favored policy option for widely varied situations of ethno-national strife.

Because of the broad application of the idea, the violence of its implementation, and the emotive nature of its memorialization, partition has represented a particularly difficult topic for scholars to approach empirically. Nevertheless, no one could argue that historians have ignored partition; historical scholarship on the individual cases of Ireland, India, and Palestine could fill libraries. Among historians, this literature broadly falls into two camps: national and imperial histories of partition. Imperial histories have traced some of the paths through which partition was envisioned and enacted but have tended to reinforce narratives of top-down action and to neglect local landscapes and local actors. National histories, by contrast, have contributed a great deal of specificity and local nuance to our understanding of partition, but they have shortcomings too; they focus much more on outcomes and aftermaths than on genesis, and they often fail to recognize partition as a transnational political concept arising less out of local circumstance than out of world war and global decolonization.

Initially, the topic did not grab the attention of postindependence national historians. Partition, after all, represented a trauma that stood in bleak contrast with triumphal tales of the creation of homelands and rebirth of nations. Particularly in South Asia, in the years after partition the topic was rarely mentioned except as part of the heavy price of liberation.⁴² Not surprisingly, then, the topic was at first left mainly to diplomatic historians studying the reordering of the international system after imperial breakdown. As decolonization brought dirty wars, ethnic strife, and proxy conflict to the high politics of the Cold War years, diplomatic historians began to depict violent partitions as early manifestations of a broader political disorder characteristic of the Global South. This historiography tended to understand partitions as technical rearrangements undertaken by noble-minded but tragically naïve colonial administrators trying to oversee an orderly transfer of power in the face of violent nationalisms and religious fundamentalisms—a narrative W. H. Auden famously mocked in his ironic description of Cyril Radcliffe’s arrival in India:

Unbiased at least he was when he arrived on his mission,

Having never set eyes on this land he was called to partition

Between two peoples fanatically at odds,

With their different diets and incompatible gods.⁴³

Even more sarcastically, the Boulting brothers’ 1959 comedy Carlton-Browne of the F.O. (starring Peter Sellers) presented partitions as Solomonic trials imposed in a top-down fashion by bored, cynical men of the British Foreign Office, trying to get rid of antique colonial possessions that had turned into political liabilities.⁴⁴ Gradually, though, scholarship recycling these tropes fell into disrepute for its failure to acknowledge the crucial participation of local actors who helped turn partition from an abstract idea to a fact on the ground—and the structures of power that encouraged them to do so.⁴⁵ The rise first of area studies and then of subaltern studies and postcolonial theory, and the increasing attention given to communal violence and history from below, all played decisive roles in dissolving such analyses. As historians began to think about partition as a story of communal and ethno-national imagination and violence, they sought to distance themselves from accounts that deprived local actors of all agency.

These older explanations were also cast aside because of their increasingly evident inability to explain the persistence of partition as a phenomenon, tactic, and experience. Partition retained a place in the international arsenal of legitimate political tools for decades after 1948, as international treaties advocating partition in settings from Cyprus to Bosnia made clear. Further, it gradually became clear that partitions had utterly failed to provide the promised solution to communal or ethno-national conflict. Take, for example, the orgy of violence prompted by the assassination of Indira Gandhi by her Sikh guards in October 1984, which led many, including Urvashi Butalia, to start challenging the selective amnesia of the nation-state. It took the events of 1984 to make me understand how ever-present Partition was in our lives, Butalia writes, and the recurring outbursts of violence in subsequent years further