Selective Facts, Convenient Omissions: Unpacking Shourie’s Take On Savarkar In New Book

The New Icon: Savarkar and the Facts. Arun Shourie. India Viking (Penguin). January 2025. 560 Pages. Rs 999.

Arun Shourie’s latest work, The New Icon: Savarkar and the Facts, adds to the increasing pile of reassessments on Vinayak Damodar Savarkar over the past decade.

While Shourie was once known for producing works that aligned more sympathetically with the ‘Hindu Right,’ his ideological shift over the last 10 years is evident in this book, which now appears to undo his past attachments. This ideological repositioning frames much of his analysis in the book.

Unfortunately, this commitment to a new line of thought results in selective use of sources, glaring omissions of key facts, and an apparent absence of any evidence, of which there is much that contradicts his thesis. These issues pervade the book, raising concerns about the objectivity and balance of Shourie’s assessment.

Shourie’s Eminent Historians, published in 1998, has inspired a new generation of writers to sharpen their historiography. In that book, he takes a critical aim at Marxist historians, accusing them of distorting historical facts through selective omissions and ideological biases.

This is the same author who once wrote, “The major crime of these ‘historians’ has been this partisanship: suppressing the truth, suggesting the false.”

However, his new book on Savarkar cannot qualify his own standards of assessment elucidated in Eminent Historians.

A thorough assessment of such a subject requires a wide variety of sources to grasp the debates surrounding the man, his arguments, and their counterarguments.

To present a convincing narrative, it is essential to lay out the facts as they are — both for and against the individual. A strong narrative dismantles facts with facts, while one built on omissions leaves blind spots that can be easily exposed by counter-evidence.

Additionally, understanding the geopolitical climate, internal politics, and the variables surrounding a personality is critical. When context is stripped away, any assertion can be manipulated to suit the author's bias.

The brief about the book in the online publication The Wire claims it draws from “over 550 sources.” However, to my disappointment, the actual number is below 200. This discrepancy would not have been an issue if Shourie had incorporated enough sources to present a comprehensive picture of the man.

While Shourie holds a definite opinion on the subject, his omissions are both glaring and tactical. It is particularly surprising that Shourie made no use of the National Archives of India and the Prime Ministers Museum and Library, which hold crucial material for understanding Savarkar.

A few pages into the book, and you have to be content with the fact that Gandhi is “Gandhiji” by default and Savarkar has to settle without the ‘ji.’ This orphan treatment serves as a trailer for the material that follows.

The locus of the book revolves around two irrefutable laws: 

1) The Congress was the only deserving national political party of the time, and any political party that opposed it was opposed to the cause of freedom entirely.

2) Gandhiji is always right. If you oppose Gandhiji, you must be doing something wrong.

Gandhi and the Congress ultimately become the benchmark for assessing Savarkar. As a result, any deviation from this framework is viewed as treason.

In fact, if the goal is to vilify Savarkar, this benchmark can bring out more perceived failures than any other test could, since his ideology is known to be at loggerheads with Gandhian thought.

It is well known that Savarkar’s opposition to Gandhi was rooted in ideological differences. His conflict with the Congress stemmed from divergent views on nationhood and what should be prioritised.

For Savarkar, the primary concern was the best interests of the Hindu community, with the end goal, that of sovereignty and indivisibility of the holy land, being slightly more important than the means.

In contrast, the Congress placed their emphasis on achieving the elusive Hindu-Muslim unity and sought freedom through non-violent principles.

The preface of the book opens by highlighting Savarkar’s so-called “beggary” in accepting donation purses on his birthday. Since Shourie often relies on random anecdotes to support his arguments, I hope I may be forgiven for recalling an instance once described by Osho, the gist of which was this:

Gandhi once asked Osho to donate the Rs 3 he had in his pocket for the poor, which he did, dropping them into the donation box. However, when he humorously snatched the whole box, Gandhi was startled, and Osho told him he would take it for the poor of his village. Gandhi’s wife, Kasturba, even quipped that he (Gandhi) had met his match. Feeling sorry for him, Osho left the box behind, remarking that he had come to see a mahatma but found only a businessman.

Even the "Kasturba Fund" set up by Gandhi could be questioned on the same principles. It’s important to note that Savarkar did not actively seek donations; it was his well-wishers who did so on his behalf.

For example, N C Kelkar initiated the “Savarkar Brothers Purse Fund” just two weeks after Savarkar’s release from jail in 1924. Accepting gifts is neither inherently virtuous nor immoral.

The first section of the book, titled ‘Much to Learn,’ focuses on Savarkar’s rationalism regarding caste, cow worship, and ritualism. This is the only section where the author praises Savarkar, but primarily as a way to taunt his followers, who do not adhere to these rationalist views. In doing so, Shourie shifts his critique onto Savarkar’s supporters rather than Savarkar himself.

Interestingly, Shourie’s own veneration of Gandhi is so unwavering that he could almost be labelled a Gandhi follower. This raises a pertinent question: would Shourie, who appreciates Savarkar’s rationalism in this instance, be willing to accept all of Gandhi’s views, many of which were at odds with Savarkar’s?

It is, however, a simplistic notion to assume that the followers of a figure uniformly agree with every idea that is espoused. Veneration often stems from a variety of factors, including respect for a leader’s broader principles or achievements, rather than agreement on every single view.

The next section of the book, ‘Much Not to Learn,’ focuses on Savarkar’s self-assessment, where Shourie critiques him for having an inflated sense of self and a tendency towards self-promotion.

A prime example mentioned is the widely circulated story of Savarkar’s leap at Marseilles, which Atal Bihari Vajpayee referenced in a speech, perpetuating the legend that Savarkar swam almost endlessly to reach Marseilles after escaping from the SS Morea ship. Savarkar claims he swam for 10 minutes, though the quay was only 12 feet away, meaning the swim would have taken barely half a minute.

This critique is valid, and the source Shourie uses to debunk the claim is credible. However, there are other problems. Shourie acknowledges that the pseudonymous biography Life of Barrister Savarkar by Chitragupta got this fact right — a book he otherwise accuses of creating a halo around Savarkar but here underplays him.

Then, oddly enough, he goes on to suggest, much like the “Sherlock Holmes” who wrote the preface of the fourth edition of the said book, that Savarkar himself wrote this biography pseudonymously. He has done this to accuse Savarkar of manufacturing his own legend. This is a classic case of “Heads, I win; tails, you lose!”

Shourie then proceeds to “debunk” the so-called myth of Savarkar’s contributions to Subhas Bose’s Indian National Army (INA). While Shourie raises some interesting questions, I argue that he is not adequately prepared with the full scope of evidence surrounding this debate.

In fact, there is contradictory material in the National Archives of India suggesting Savarkar did play a role in contributing to the INA, and that the Hindu Mahasabha was one of the first parties to support Bose’s mission wholeheartedly.

Testimonies from soldiers indicate that Savarkar’s aim was to encourage military training among them, with the intent that they would eventually rebel when the time was right.

Some soldiers even defected to the INA following these instructions. Though the mechanism behind these defections is still a mystery, it remains a valid and intriguing one. Professor Kapil Kumar has extensively researched this topic, presenting evidence to support these claims, many of which are detailed in his book Netaji, Azad Hind Sarkar & Fauj.

Shourie also draws on Marzia Casolari’s book In the Shadow of the Swastika to bolster his argument. However, despite Casolari's in-depth research, her conclusions end up contradicting her own thesis, which acknowledges that the Hindu Mahasabha was aware of Subhas Bose’s plans by February 1941.

Additionally, Savarkar is shown to have been in regular communication with Rash Behari Bose, the founder of the INA, who later became president of the Hindu Mahasabha’s Japan Chapter. This connection further complicates the simplistic narrative Shourie tries to put forth. The mysteries are replete, and I am in the process of getting into the depths of the same.

Shourie seems quite confident that he has exposed Savarkar as a “myth creator,” proudly proclaiming, “Nothing survives scrutiny.” The irony, however, is that even his own work falls short of being the final word, given his oblivion to contradictory research.

Having proved his point, Shourie laments that “the principal aim today is to erase Gandhiji.” He says Gandhiji stings those who “actively collaborated with the British.”

Although Shourie does agree that revolutionaries “might” have a role to play, as some of these were first-rank patriots, he warns — we have to be wary of those who “did nothing for the freedom of the country” and can claim “they were totally involved in the freedom struggle.” A discerning reader can take the hint.

Shourie eventually “proves” that Savarkar was an active collaborator. We will soon see how he accomplishes that.

Shourie proceeds to taunt Savarkar for claiming that he transformed lives and was regarded as a leader. While Savarkar may lack the humility quotient, it remains true that many of the fellow revolutionaries at India House, where Savarkar lived, considered him their leader.

This came as a surprise to me as well, but several revolutionaries, including M P T Acharya, Pandurang Mahadev Bapat, and Bhai Parmanand, have openly acknowledged him as their de facto leader. 

Other books on revolutionaries in London also support the idea that figures like V V S Aiyar, Madan Lal Dhingra, and Virendranath Chattopadhyay were “inspired” by Savarkar.

Even Lala Har Dayal, who is often seen as an equal in acumen to Savarkar, is said to have transformed his views after coming into contact with him.

The magnetism of Savarkar's personality is also noted by unbiased acquaintances, such as David Garnett and Hemchandra Das, in their respective books.

Shourie then creates another “supposed” myth, claiming that Savarkar presents himself as the pioneer of the idea of an armed revolution. However, Savarkar himself attributes his inspiration to Vasudev Balwant Phadke, a figure known for advocating armed rebellion in the 1870s.

Furthermore, Savarkar's own work, The War of Indian Independence of 1857, serves as a case study in armed rebellion. But, of course, this doesn’t fit the narrative that might appeal to the oblivious readers.

As in many other critiques, Shourie uses a quote from Trailokyanath Chakraborty to suggest that in the Cellular Jail, Savarkar was malicious in not supporting fellow revolutionaries during strikes against jail authorities, arguing that this proves Savarkar acted as a “convenience” to the government.

What is rarely mentioned, however, is that Savarkar had actively participated in the three earlier strikes at the Cellular Jail, which led to some concessions for the political prisoners.

The revolutionaries did not participate in the fourth strike because they knew that the hard-won concessions would likely be revoked as punishment.

Moreover, the jail authorities were notorious for not adhering to the legal mandates, and there were several benefits that the revolutionaries never actually received, despite the provisions that were supposed to grant them.

Savarkar did encourage the fourth strike in jail, but due to his deteriorating health, he was unable to participate. His condition eventually led to him being placed in the prison hospital for an extended period, which was typically only allowed in emergency cases.

Instead of joining the strike, he was given the opportunity to write a petition to Montagu, the Secretary of State for India, and also to send the contents of the petition in a letter to his younger brother for national propaganda. In these letters, Savarkar consistently requested the release of all political prisoners, offering to exclude himself if the request seemed selfish.

On the contrary, Sachindranath Sanyal’s autobiography reveals that Barindra Ghose, Hemchandra Das, and Upendra ridiculed those who participated in the strike. They discouraged and humiliated the strikers and, in some cases, acted as informants to the authorities, believing this would expedite their own release.

This is not to suggest that these revolutionaries had abandoned their patriotism, but rather that they resumed their activities after being released from the Cellular Jail. In the jail, they adopted a strategy they believed to be the best course of action. In comparison, Savarkar engaged in significant propaganda for the cause of revolutionaries, which helped bring attention to the hardships faced by political prisoners in the Andamans, ultimately serving a larger purpose in the struggle for Indian independence.

In fact, Prithvi Singh Azad, another prisoner in the jail, asserts that even this new batch of political prisoners, which includes Trailokyanath, abandoned their strikes as soon as they received their share of concessions, ceasing to concern themselves with the continued suffering of the other prisoners. This phenomenon was not isolated but rather a common one, driven by pragmatic considerations.

Shourie then moves on to sympathise with the harrowing struggles that Savarkar faced in jail, suggesting that it should be natural for someone enduring such suffering to eventually write mercy petitions. He questions why it feels humiliating to acknowledge this fact and provides answers to this discomfort: It is in stark contrast to the actual ‘brave’ freedom fighters like Bhagat Singh and Ramprasad Bismil, unlike the pseudo-‘Veer’ Savarkar.

I agree that comparing freedom fighters is problematic, as each faced different circumstances. However, does Shourie realise the blunder he has made by omitting a crucial fact? Bismil himself acknowledges in his autobiography that he, along with his fellow revolutionaries, filed mercy petitions, as well.

There is also a conspiracy theory put forward by a non-Savarkarite, Kuldeep Singh Kooner, in his book The Martyrdom of Bhagat Singh, where he claims, based on an account by one Dalip Singh Allahabadi, that Bhagat Singh was convinced by his friend, Comrade Bejoy Kumar Sinha, to file a mercy petition.

Does this in any way tarnish the legacy of Bismil or Bhagat Singh? Does this diminish their status as legendary revolutionaries? Are Bhagat Singh and Bismil to be respected only for the fact that they ‘apparently’ did not write mercy petitions? If so, does that mean other revolutionaries who filed mercy petitions — like Ashfaqullah Khan, Sachindranath Sanyal, and Barindra Ghose — should not be accorded the same respect as revolutionaries?

But whatever works to taint Savarkar!

In the next section, ‘A Revolutionary Act,’ Shourie shifts focus to Savarkar's post-Ratnagiri phase, conveniently skipping over 13 years of his life. Is this omission a mere accident, or does it serve a specific purpose? What transpired during those 13 years Savarkar spent in Ratnagiri? And, more importantly, does this omission affect Shourie’s argument that Savarkar was a collaborator with the British, a claim he repeatedly emphasises? It sure does.

Savarkar’s situation was far from easy under the radar of the British. He was released conditionally from Ratnagiri ‘jail,’ agreeing not to participate in any political activities and confining himself to the Ratnagiri ‘district.’ However, his terms of detention were renewed multiple times — in 1929, 1931, 1933, 1935, and 1937. So much trouble for being a British agent!

It was only due to a more favourable government filled with Indians in Maharashtra and the support of figures like Jamnadas Mehta that Savarkar was finally able to secure his release in 1937.

During his Ratnagiri period between 1924 and 1937, Savarkar was actively involved in various revolutionary causes. He wrote extensively in support of revolutionaries, including Bhagat Singh and several others, often without revealing his identity in the newspaper started by his brother, Narayanrao Savarkar, in Bombay.

Savarkar also played a role in inspiring Gogate to pursue revolutionary activities, which led to the shooting of Ernest Hotson, a home member, in 1931. Gogate later credited Savarkar for the inspiration.

Similarly, a close associate of Savarkar, Wamanrao Chavan, who was an ardent Savarkarite, attempted to assassinate a British police officer named Sweetland in Bombay. Though both assassination attempts failed, Savarkar was jailed for two weeks in the latter case but was released due to insufficient evidence. However, during a search of his house in Ratnagiri, authorities found a considerable amount of material related to revolutionary violence.

It is convenient for Shourie to omit the Ratnagiri phase, as during this period, Savarkar was not aligned with the British government's interests. In fact, he was reprimanded by the government for writings that bore his name, further challenging the narrative of him being a collaborator.

His active support for revolutionary activities and involvement in various underground movements would contradict the claim that he was in league with the British. Ignoring this phase conveniently skews the portrayal of Savarkar's life and his stance during those years.

It is through this approach that Shourie directly assesses Savarkar’s communication with the British government. He relies on his own premise, meticulously set up, to prove that Savarkar was working to repay the “favour” of the British by helping them perpetuate their rule. But what favours? No one really knows!

Then Shourie attempts to prove that Savarkar was a sympathiser of Hitler and Germany, while, on the other hand, he claims that Savarkar collaborated with the British.

My reading of the National Archives tells me that the British government received intelligence suggesting that Savarkar had pro-Japan leanings, further reinforced by his collaboration with Rash Behari Bose to eliminate the British.

So which one is it, Mr Shourie?

Japan and Germany were on opposite sides of the British in the Second World War. But the readers are not supposed to commit the cardinal sin of connecting the facts. After all, how could Savarkar be both a Nazi sympathiser and a British collaborator at the same time? Another classic case of “Heads, I win; tails, you lose!”

Now that Savarkar has been established as a motivated British collaborator, the ‘irrefutable laws’ mentioned earlier in this article are put to work. Shourie bashes Savarkar for opposing the Congress and putting the Hindu Mahasabha on the fore, which sabotaged ‘the cause of freedom’ because, apparently, the Congress had the best interests in mind.

Every such instance where the Hindu Mahasabha proposes to work with the British to meet their demands has been termed as “collaboration.” So what the Congress achieved in coordination with the British government for several years must have been “collaboration.”

To Savarkar, the Congress was habitual in sabotaging Hindu interests and encouraging dialogue with leaders from the Muslim organisations, who demanded concessions and separation. Thus, it was necessary for Savarkar to propel the Hindu Mahasabha in the eyes of the British, without whose intervention it was difficult to do so. However, the British were again ungrateful to Savarkar and generous to the Muslim League.

Savarkar understood that the task ahead was daunting, given that the odds were stacked in favour of British support for the Muslim League. The situation was further complicated by Congress members resigning and boycotting ministries, which would only benefit the Muslim League. This created a vacuum that the Hindu Mahasabha sought to fill, something Shourie describes as “an opportunity” for the Mahasabha, albeit in a pejorative light.

Savarkar’s repeated concessions to the British were always conditional on the premise that the Muslim League should not receive preferential treatment. If it did, the Hindu Mahasabha, representing a larger community in India, should have a higher stake.

The Congress, however, ignored the Hindu Mahasabha completely and only directly communicated with the Muslim organisations. This also led to discussions on partition, which were favoured by Rajagopalachari as early as 1939 and were later endorsed by him and Gandhi in 1944 through the Gandhi-Rajagopalachari Formula.

Savarkar again opposed it. But, for all this ordeal, Savarkar is only met with ridicule from Shourie, who criticises him for leading a weak organisation that lacked the strength to shift the tide in their favour.

The Hindu Mahasabha is never credited duly for its strict stance against the formation of Pakistan and also its uncompromising demand for the political independence of India after the Second World War. Instead, Gandhi and the Congress are, as a consequence, appreciated for asking for complete independence, getting arrested, and creating a power vacuum at the Centre, which favoured the Muslim League.

Pakistan eventually became an inevitable consequence, which the Mahasabha, despite all its efforts, was not enough to prevent, as the British support, “which is alleged,” never reached them.

Instead, Savarkar is criticised for not supporting the Quit India Movement. The truth is, Savarkar was willing to support the movement on the condition that the Hindu Mahasabha be consulted on any decision affecting Hindus and that no demand for separation be tolerated. This stance was publicly reiterated by Savarkar.

Shourie tightly guides the readers, holding their hands through these sections, dictating every hidden meaning behind Savarkar’s words to the British. There’s no room for other interpretations because Shourie has stripped away the context, applying his so-called ‘irrefutable laws.’

The reality is, Savarkar was concerned about a civil war-like situation, given the Muslim domination in the British Indian Army, a worry that was echoed by Dr B R Ambedkar too.

Savarkar was actively working towards increasing the Hindu presence in the army, as Hindus would otherwise be at the mercy of a skewed composition, one in which many were eager for the creation of Pakistan.

Initially unaware of the disproportionate numbers, Savarkar called for complete independence. However, when he realised the situation, nearing the advent of the Second World War, he adjusted his stance to demand Dominion Status, which, while a pragmatic demand, still served the purpose of presenting the Hindu Mahasabha as more reasonable to the British. Yet the British were not bound by any such favours, and the demand ultimately did not yield the desired results.

No matter how much idealism is poured here, the fact remains that Savarkar made the post-partition situation more favourable for the Hindus with this single-handed effort. Who knows what would have happened to Kashmir, Punjab, or Assam — entire India, for that matter — if the Hindus were not military-trained in large numbers?

An enduring question about India’s freedom struggle is whether the partition could have been averted. However, since partition has become an undeniable historical reality, Indians often look for at least one leader who vehemently opposed it. This is where Savarkar earns his respect.

But the world of idealism opposes the considerations of the real world. Hence, Gandhi is the only right choice and the Indian National Congress, the only rightful party to have fought India’s freedom struggle. Hence, in my opinion, according to the portrayal by Shourie, the credit for the partition should also go to the Congress.

Savarkar is successfully villainised. Gandhi has been vindicated. The Indian National Congress is absolved of all its errors. A False Icon has been destroyed.