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The lesson from the Scottish vote is that there are limits to nationalism that is not rooted in economic rationality
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Soon after the result of the Scottish referendum on independence was announced last week, a number of rueful faces could be seen in New Delhi. The Scots you see had robbed our commentariat and anchors from one heartfelt desire: A referendum in Kashmir. That did not prevent the demand being made. For example, a displaced Scot, no doubt disappointed at his countrymen saying no, could be heard on TV making the case for Kashmir. Others, mostly Indians of a liberal (libertine?) persuasion, are circumspect but harbour the desire secretly.
If one sets aside this wishful thinking for the moment, a clear lesson can be gleaned from the Scottish vote: there are limits to nationalism that are not rooted in economic rationality. Scotland is a unique case. It has a long history of efforts to separate from the UK, militarily and by peaceful means. The country is heir to a long intellectual tradition—the expression “Scottish Enlightenment" is not without reason. More importantly, it is located in a geopolitically quiescent corner of the world. Finally, Scotland, had it been a nation-state, would have no border disputes with England.
In almost all places where demands for new nations exist, all these conditions are absent. The best, and most recent, example is East Timor. Twelve years after independence from Indonesia, this small country is in trouble. It has already seen one attempted coup; its linguistic and ethnic diversity is formidable for a country of its area (for comparative purposes, Scotland is 4.5 times larger)—there are nine languages spoken by significant numbers. Desperately poor but potentially rich (there are significant hydrocarbon resources to be found in the Timor Sea), the country is increasingly hard to govern. Its first president, Xanana Gusmao, has put off plans of retirement and is now prime minister. The country has an acute shortage of trained administrators. There could be no two different places than East Timor and Scotland—Dili and Holyrood bear no resemblance, economic or political. Yet these obvious handicaps did not make its leadership—from its first revolutionary leader Nicolau Lobato, East Timor’s William Wallace, to Xanana Gusmao—pause and cut a better deal with Indonesia. Once sparked, East Timorese nationalism did not rest until independence. The result is for everyone to see: East Timor is a state in trouble.
Scotland did not take that course. To begin with, even the most diehard of Scottish nationalist leaders did not want a complete break with Britain. They wanted the British pound to remain in a currency union. It took that most British of institutions, The Economist to point out the incongruity of an independent fiscal policy and a monetary policy set by the Bank of England. A nationalism that is so spavined was unlikely to find favour with voters who live in the age of mortgages, iPhones, university education costs and fears of inflation.
Comparing Scotland and East Timor seems unfair. But it is useful in one important sense, that of examining the fit between a nation and the underlying state. It is common to use the expression nation-state without realizing the very different entities making it. A nation devoid of an effective state is unlikely to survive for long; a state lording over a nation will be tyrannical. A tight fit between the two is rare but survival in the modern world requires that the two don’t diverge wildly. If Scots voted for a continued union with the UK, the fear of an independent Scottish state being unable to fulfil their aspirations had a role in the decision. In less educated societies the burden of the state falls on the nation. Such peoples imagine that independence will magically bring prosperity and wealth. Alas that never happens. A nation without an effective state is no better than a ghost.
There is an example closer home that shows these pitfalls vividly. In 1947 when Pakistan became an independent country, it lacked the infrastructure needed to run itself. Unlike India, which knew a “centre", so to speak, Pakistan had to create a central authority from scratch. Pakistan was a nation but it had a terribly weak state. The quest for a strong central authority, pursued with vigour by its founder Muhammad Ali Jinnah and later prime minister Liaquat Ali Khan privileged the bureaucracy and the army over political parties. Soon both institutions developed corporate interests, interests they came to champion over everything else. Safeguarding the interests of citizens and provinces took a back seat.
By the time East Pakistan seceded, the nation had been overshadowed by the state. Today even the state has been left behind. Only the army matters.
So when Indians, of all the people, talk of “letting Kashmir go", they should pause for a second, think of the consequences. In the meantime, let us raise a glass of the finest scotch and say Albion forever.
Siddharth Singh is Editor (Views) at Mint. Reluctant Duelist will take stock of matters economic, political and strategic—in India and elsewhere—every fortnight.
Comments are welcome at siddharth.s@livemint.com. To read Siddharth Singh’s previous columns, go to www.livemint.com/reluctantduelist
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