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[edit] The Progressive Writers’ Movement

Syed Nomanul Haq |River in the drop: The Progressive Writers’ Movement |Jun 23, 2017 | Herald Dawn

In one of his ghazals, Mirza Ghalib provokes us in the dancing sparks of his poetic craft:

Qatre mein dajlaa dikhai na dey, aur juzoo mein kul
Khel larhkon ka hua, deedaa e beena na hua

This provocation, rich in its cosmic thrust and embodied as it is in a telltale wit and a commanding grip on the Urdu idiom, served as a philosophical inspiration for Faiz Ahmed Faiz — a young incarcerated Faiz.

Writing the preface to his poetry collection Dast-e Saba (Hand of the Breeze) from Hyderabad’s Central Jail in 1952, Faiz pondered on this verse, and in the course of his explication articulated the core literary doctrine of those we call progressive writers —

“Had Ghalib been living in our own times, in all likelihood some critic would have shouted out saying that he has insulted children’s games; or that he seems to be a supporter of propaganda in literature — since issuing an instruction for the poet’s eye to see a river in the drop is explicit propaganda.

“A poet’s eye is concerned, so would the censure go, with beauty and beauty alone … and this business of seeing or showing rivers in drops may well be the trade of a philosopher or a sage or a politician; it is not the calling of a poet …

“But fortunately or unfortunately, the art of poetry (or any art for that matter) is not children’s sport … A poet or a writer must not only see the river in the drop, he is equally required to make others see it. And more, if Ghalib’s ‘river’ is taken to mean the totality of life and the cosmic system of all that exists, then the writer too is himself a drop of that river.

This means that in partnership with innumerable other drops, on his shoulders falls also the responsibility to set and determine the direction of this river, its flow and figure, and its destination.”

Faiz was a ranking member of the All Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association that held its first meeting in 1947 at the YMCA Hall in Lahore, with Ahmed Nadeem Qasmi serving as its secretary.

But before steering into factual history, let us attend to the pithy and eloquent pronouncement of Faiz — a pronouncement that constructs for us the very philosophical backdrop against which the checkered story of progressive writers is played out.

So here we have a theory of literature that pulls poetry, or any creative writing for that matter, down to earth and makes it an agency to serve a pragmatic function in society. In more crude terms – rather, frank terms – one can say that Faiz’s poet has been charged with the task of being an activist. He or she has the burden not only of seeing but also of showing.

If a creative act is not aimed at setting the direction and determining even the end, the telos, of that grand social system of which it is a part, then that act is lame, irresponsible, indulgent at best.

This is the crux of the matter, the grand picture, in the dramatic and intriguing story of the Progressive Writers’ Movement.

But this is the grand picture, the mural. We begin to see complexities of details when we work on a miniature.

One complicating element of these details is expressly ideological — the changes to be brought about by progressive writers had to be on Marxist lines; in the case of Faiz, more specifically on Marxist-Leninist lines.

Another complicating element is the stated discomfort of the Progressive Writers’ Movement with the Urdu literary tradition. The tradition was considered to be decadent, indulgent, and obscurantist, taking flights of fancy that left the ordinary, economically suffering human being behind on the earth, bewildered and oppressed.

If the tradition had turned putrid, what is the source of inspiration then?

The answer defines yet another central determinant of progressive writing — new inspiration has to be sought in the modern writings of the West, not only English writings such as those of James Joyce and Virginia Woolf, but also French writings such as those of Baudelaire and Mallarmé, and, of course, among others, Russian writings such as those of Gorky and Chekhov.

The Progressive Writers’ Movement operated in a doctrinal triangle whose three nodes were pragmatism, Marxism, and a western orientation. The seeds of all this are to be found already in that fateful collection of nine or so Urdu short stories, Angaaray (Burning Coal) that was published in Lucknow in December 1932. Written by four young authors – Syed Sajjad Zahir, Rashid Jahan, Ahmed Ali, and Mahmuduzzafar – this collection created a massive outrage.

It defied all tradition viciously: cultural, moral, literary, linguistic. One of its contributors, Ahmed Ali, owns up: “It was the first ferocious attack on society in modern [Urdu] literature … It was a declaration of war by the youth of the middle class against the prevailing social, political, and religious institutions.”

Indeed, with its Marxist leanings, Angaaray did radiate intense heat — the civil and religious establishment was simply outraged. India’s Urdu as well as English press was crowded with angry condemnations.

The All India Shia Conference in Lucknow called it a “filthy pamphlet” and demanded that the “book be at once proscribed”. One newspaper found nothing “intellectually modern” in the volume “except immorality, evil character and wickedness”.

There was a flurry of fatwas of abomination; donations were solicited to take the matter to the court; and more, demands were heard for stoning the authors to death and executing them mercilessly through hanging by the neck!

And then, barely three months after the publication of this accursed work of fiction, on March 15, 1933, Angaaray was banned by the government of the United Provinces — all but five copies were destroyed. Of the five remaining copies, three were delivered to the Keeper of Record in Delhi, and two were sent to His Majesty’s Government in London.

It is this scandal of short stories wherein lay the germs of the Progressive Writers’ Movement. Less than a month after the banning of Angaaray, a detailed statement from the authors drafted by Mahmuduzzafar was published in the newspaper The Leader.

This was an impassioned statement bearing the title, “In Defence of Angaaray. Shall We Submit to Gagging?” It argued for the significance and moral urgency of the stories in the volume, and included a “practical proposal” — namely, “the formation immediately of a League of Progressive Authors”.

Following this, on April 10, 1936, the All India Progressive Writers’ Association came into being in Lucknow, perhaps the most powerful and decisive Urdu literary movement of the 20th century. Zahir was its motive force, flanked by his comrade Ahmed Ali.

Despite periodic denials by the association, as well as by its Pakistani variant, that it had nothing to do with any political party, its link with the Communist Party of India (CPI) remained unveiled. It was this very CPI that voted in 1948 for the establishment of the Communist Party of Pakistan (CPP) and sent Zahir to Lahore for this purpose.

One here recalls the notorious Rawalpindi Conspiracy Case — the conspiracy led by Major General Akbar Khan in 1951 to overthrow with Soviet backing the government of Prime Minister Liaquat Ali Khan.

In March of that year an order was issued by Governor General Khawaja Nazimuddin for the arrest of Akbar Khan and of two pro-Soviet progressive writers whose support he had enlisted — Zahir and Faiz. They were sent to prison after an in-camera hearing; finally in 1953, a guilty verdict was pronounced.

We see literature and politics enmeshed in this story. Indeed, the same year in which Faiz was arrested saw the Pakistan government’s declaration that All Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association is a political party.

This is not surprising, for in the manifestos of All Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association numerous unmistakable political statements and demands were made — for example, the demand to recognise the People’s Republic of China, and the resolve to “take full part in international struggle for peace”.

But now that the association had formally lost its non-political status, and some of its major figures had been arrested, it suffered both huge organisational and literary losses. Then, in 1954, the CPP was outlawed.

Finally, in 1958, the assets of the Progressive Papers Limited that funded the CPP were sold by Pakistan’s first military dictator Ayub Khan. It was PPL that owned the newspapers Pakistan Times and Imroz. All Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association was no longer economically viable.

In recent years both Indian and Pakistani associations of the progressive writers have been subjected to many scholarly studies. Among these, the most comprehensive and the most recent is Carlo Coppola’s Urdu Poetry 1935-1970: The Progressive Episode (published by Oxford University Press, Karachi, in 2017). This work is extensive and detailed in its narration of factual history, but one wishes it had more literary analysis in the formal sense.

Given the importance and vitality of critic Muhammad Hasan Askari’s evaluation and critique of the progressive writers, the work by Mehr Afshan Farooqi is certainly most valuable — it was published by Pelgrave Macmillan in 2012 in New York under the title Urdu Literary Culture: Vernacular Modernity in the Writing of Muhammad Hasan Askari.

The many fine English translations of Askari’s writings by Muhammed Umar Memon are indispensable in understanding Askari’s intellectual thrust.

In an indirect way, of a high value also is Kamran Asdar Ali’s Surkh Salam: Communist Politics and Class Activism in Pakistan 1947-72 (published by Oxford University Press, Karachi, in 2015). And I have personally benefitted a great deal from Shabana Mahmud’s work on Angaaray from which I draw some of my material here.

But how does one evaluate the literary creations of the progressive writers? There was a time when their associations embodied a galaxy of shining stars, taking into their fold practically anybody who had any claims to Urdu literature — indeed, Askari, its most bitter nemesis, was also in its fold in his early career.

It was only after the arrest of Faiz and the weakening of the All Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association that one finds evaluative voices rising.

It is at this time that an important analytical distinction between Progressivism and Modernism – Taraqqi Pasandi and Jadidiyat – is fully articulated.

We know that two of the three pioneers of modern (jadid) Urdu poetry, Miraji and Noon Meem Rashed, did not embrace the progressive writers’ associations; Faiz being the third who did.

But all three are poets of a high order.

The three nodes of the progressive triangle I identified– pragmatism, Marxism, and a western orientation – proved to be both a boon and a bane for the Progressive Writers’ Movement. Pragmatism can suggest meaningful themes, but it often compromises creative freedom, making a work of art formulaic.

Does one not frequently feel that Faiz is at the height of his virtuosity when he is a sheer poet, unshackled, boundless? When he talks of shadows, mirrors, doors and paths, the edge of the moon, unencumbered by any immediate concern to change the society?

Compare this to the pragmatic Faiz speaking about the puss from wounds and the flesh of the worker and flinging the crowns of kings. The world of poetry prefers the unshackled Faiz.

As for the other two nodes, there is hardly a better guide for us than Askari. About the partisan criticism of All Pakistan Progressive Writers’ Association, he says, “All art is essentially healthy …

When talking about man, literature and literary criticism should at least use language that reflects the vitality and exuberance of human existence in its fullness, not economic philosophy” (as translated by Muhammed Umar Memon).

Recall that the cry “art for art’s sake” was ridiculed by the progressive writers as being ethically decadent (in a sense Faiz does the same thing in his preface to Dast-e Saba I have quoted).

Here is Askari’s corrective: “I shall vehemently deny that the concept of ‘art for art’s sake’ is an ethically decadent concept ... The concept is … not so much a disengagement from morality as it is pursuit of a new kind of morality … The final touchstone of art [is] … purely aesthetic” (as translated by Muhammed Umar Memon).

Regarding the western orientation of the progressive writers, again I have found no guide who surpasses Askari. His position has been elegantly expounded by Farooqi from whom I construct the following account.

First, Askari points out what may be called sovereignty of cultures — western writings and Urdu writings come to pass and move in two different incommensurable cosmologies, so an Urdu writer cannot emulate English or French writings.

Second, he makes an empirical observation — those progressive writers who have drawn their inspiration from western wrings have but a superficial understanding of western literature.

And finally, he examines Urdu and western languages philologically and articulates their differences, telling us, for example, that Urdu is elaborately descriptive in its temperament, lacking analytical prose, yielding only passionate narration; Urdu is not suitable for subclauses or strings of adjectives; Urdu does not admit of distances between an object and its attributes, between nouns and their adjectives.

What is the result? Even after decades of imitation, the progressive writers have failed to produce western-style prose.

“Urdu will grow only in the glow of its own tradition.”

Translation of Ghalib’s verse and Faiz’s text is by Syed Nomanul Haq

This article was originally published in the Herald's May 2017 issue with the headline "River in the drop". To read more subscribe to the Herald in print.

The writer is a professor and advisor of the social sciences and liberal arts programme at the Institute of Business Administration, Karachi.

[edit] Progressive Writer’s Association

April 23, 2006

The radical muse

Dawn

Progressive Writer’s Association

Progressive Writer’s Association

Progressive Writer’s Association

This book documents the rise of the Progressive Writer’s Association, its period of ascendancy, its crucial role in the struggle for independence and its unflagging spirit of resistance against injustice

Ali Husain Mir and Raza Mir write about the emerging of a movement that grew into the Progressive Writer’s Association

On the evening of November 24, 1934, the atmosphere at London’s Nanking Hotel must have been electric. A group of young Indian intellectuals were engaged in an intense discussion over a draft document, that had been circulated by the convenor of the meeting, Sajjad Zaheer. The document was audacious in its scope, for it sought to articulate a manifesto for the future of Indian literature.

Some of the faces in the meeting were to become familiar personalities. Jyotirmaya Ghosh would rise to prominence as a key figure in Bengali literature. Mulk Raj Anand had already begun to gain global prominence as an English novelist. Mohammad Din Tasir was to go on to become the founder of the magazine Nairang-i-Khayaal in Lahore. The British writer Ralph Fox was attending in the capacity of an adviser. The fog of history has blurred the names of other attendees, but the institution that was emerging through this meeting was destined to majestically straddle the traditions of Indian literature in general and Urdu poetry in particular for a long time.

The fact that this meeting was being held in London was no accident. Rather, it was a curious outcome of the history of the colonial experience of India. Many among the gathering were students in England, who had been sent by their affluent parents to develop professional skills in areas such as law and medicine. Yet, their experiences with colonial servitude back home were fresh in their minds, and this smouldering energy was readily spurred by the emerging anti-fascist and socialist currents all over Europe. The formation of the United Front in France, the protest against the persecution of writers like Georgi Dimitrov, and the workers’ rebellion in Austria in the early 1930’s, had galvanised the attendees of the Nanking meeting. In their minds, the literary manifesto that was being discussed would serve to lay the framework for the emergence of a new, emancipated identity.

This gathering had its genesis in an interesting episode that had taken place in 1932 with the publication of a book in India called Angaare (Embers), a set of 10 short stories written by Sajjad Zaheer, Rashid Jahan, Mahmuduzzafar and Ahmed Ali, which had attacked a whole range of sacred cows. The stories dealt with prevailing familial and sexual mores, the decadence and hypocrisy of social and religious life in contemporary India, and took more than one potshot at religious orthodoxy, attacking it with what Ahmed Ali later referred to as “the absence of circumspection”.

Within months of its publication, the book generated an uproar within Muslim circles, and was condemned by a variety of organisations as being “obscene” and “blasphemous”. The All India Shia Conference, for example, passed a resolution in 1933 sharply condemning “the heart-rending and filthy pamphlet called Angaare ... which has wounded the feelings of the entire Muslim community by ridiculing God and His prophets and which is extremely objectionable from the standpoint of both religion and morality.” Responding to this outcry, the Police Department of the United Provinces promulgated an order on March 15, 1933 declaring “forfeited to his Majesty every copy of (the book) ... on the grounds that the said book contains matter the publication of which is punishable under Section 295A of the Indian Penal Code.”

The Angaare authors were unrepentant. Writing in the April 5, 1933 issue of The Leader, an Allahabad-based newspaper, Mahmuduzzafar’s article “Shall we submit to gagging?” declared:

The writers of this book do not wish to make an apology for it. They leave it to float or sink of itself. They only wish to defend the right of launching it and all other vessels like it ... They have chosen (to critique) the particular field of Islam not because they bear any “special” malice towards it, but because, being born into that particular society, they felt better qualified to speak for that alone ... Our practical purpose is the formation immediately of a league of progressive authors, which should bring forth similar collections from time to time, both in English and the various vernaculars of our country.

Undettered by the widespread criticism, Sajjad Zaheer, the leader of the Angaare group had set about trying to use the field of literature as a battering ram to break down the orthodox and conservative fortifications of Indian society. The Nanking Hotel gathering was a significant step in that direction.

By the end of the meeting, the attendees had resolved to formalise their group as an institution, which would be called the All India Progressive Writers’ Association (henceforth, the PWA). The PWA was to be based in India, and Sajjad Zaheer volunteered to give it institutional shape in the subcontinent.

Their experiences with colonial servitude back home were fresh in their minds, and this smouldering energy was readily spurred by the emerging anti-fascist and socialist currents all over Europe

By the middle of 1935, the final manifesto of the PWA was ready. Zaheer returned to India with the document and circulated it among prominent Indian literary figures. The manifesto found an immediate champion in Premchand, one of the most highly respected figures in Hindustani literature, who published its Hindi translation in the October 1935 issue of his journal Hans (Swan). Subsequently, the English version of the manifesto was published in the February 1936 issue of London’s Left Review. The text of the manifesto was as follows:

Radical changes are taking place in Indian society. Fixed ideas and old beliefs, social and political institutions are being challenged. Out of the present turmoil and conflict a new society is emerging. The spirit of reaction however, though moribund and doomed to ultimate decay, is still operative and is making desperate efforts to prolong itself.

It is the duty of Indian. writers to give expression to the changes taking place in Indian life and to assist in the spirit of progress in the country. Indian literature, since the breakdown of classical literature, has had the fatal tendency to escape from the actualities of life. It has tried to find a refuge from reality in spiritualism and idealism. The result has been that it has produced a rigid formalism and a banal and perverse ideology.

Witness the mystical devotional obsession of our literature, its furtive and sentimental attitude towards sex, its emotional exhibitionism and its almost total lack of rationality. Such literature was produced particularly during the past two centuries, one of the most unfortunate periods of our history, a period of disintegrating feudalism and of acute misery and degradation for the Indian people as a whole.

It is the object of our association to rescue literature and other arts from the priestly, academic and decadent classes in whose hands they have degenerated so long; to bring the arts into the closest touch with the people; and to make them the vital organs which will register the actualities of life, as well as lead us to the future.

While claiming to be the inheritors of the best traditions of Indian civilisation, we shall criticise ruthlessly, in its political, economic and cultural aspects, the spirit of reaction in our country and we shall foster through interpretive and creative work (with both native and foreign resources) everything that will lead our country to the new life for which it is striving. We believe that the new literature of India must deal with the basic problems of our existence today — the problems of hunger and poverty, social backwardness and political subjugation, so that it may help us to understand these problems and through such understanding help us to act.

With the above aims in view. the following resolutions have been adopted:

• The establishment of organisations of writers to correspond to the various linguistic zones of India; the coordinations of these organisations by holding conferences, publishing of magazines, pamphlets, etc.

• To cooperate with those literary organisations whose aims do not conflict with the basic aims of the association.

• To produce and translate literature of a progressive nature and of a high technical standard; to fight cultural reaction; and in this way, to further the cause of Indian freedom and social regeneration.

• To strive for the acceptance of a common language (Hindustani) and a common script (Indo-Roman) for India.

• To protect the interests of authors; to help authors who require and deserve assistance for the publication of their works.

• To fight for the right of free expression of thought and opinion.

The manifesto was unabashedly modernist and anti-religious in its tenor, and utilised a left-liberal vocabulary that was popular at that time. It sought to play an integrative role in the Indian literary landscape through the acceptance of a common language and script. It made a case for building international solidarities. Importantly, it emphasised realism, with its insistence that literature be used as a tool to display the “actualities of life”. Finally, despite the stridency of its tone, it sought to leave the door open for coalitions with other literary groups “whose aims did not conflict with the basic aims of the association.” The manifesto was an astute political document, and a highly ambitious one that sought to position the PWA as the harbinger of revolutionary changes in the literary landscape of India.

The publication of this manifesto had a huge impact, especially in Urdu literary circles. The ideas it espoused were, however, not entirely new. Just a year earlier, a young literary critic named Akhtar Husain Raipuri had published an essay called “Adab our Zindagi” (Literature and life), in which he had attempted to analyse the entire corpus of Urdu literature, and had denounced all works of fiction and poetry that did not directly link themselves to the material conditions of the society in which they were produced. Raipuri’s essay in some measure made the manifesto easier to sell to Urdu literary figures, just as Premchand’s support (and subsequent endorsements by the Hindi poets Sumitranandan Pant, Maithilisharan Gupt and Suryakant Tripathi ‘Nirala’) succeeded in broadening the horizon of the PWA’s influence.

Stalwarts of Indian literature like Mohammad Iqbal and Rabindranath Tagore also provided legitimacy to the PWA through their approval, and eventually Urdu poets like Hasrat Mohani, Josh Malihabadi, and Firaq Gorakhpuri also joined it, as did the Telugu poet Sri Sri, the Gujarati poet Umashankar Joshi, the Punjabi writer Gurbaksh Singh and the Marathi writer Anna Bhau Sathe. The PWA’s anti-colonialist reputation was enhanced and its credentials endorsed by the fact that the British government expressed its deep suspicion of the group. On September 7, 1936, the Home Secretary of India sent a private circular to relevant authorities, which read:

I am directed to address you in connection with an organisation known as the Progressive Writers’ Association ... The proclaimed aims of the association are comparatively innocent and suggest that it concerns itself solely with the organisation of journalists and writers and the promotion of interest in literature of a progressive nature. The inspiration however comes from ... organisations and individuals who are ... advocating policies akin to those of the communists ... I am desired to suggest therefore, that suitable opportunities may be taken to convey, preferably in conversations, friendly warnings about this association to journalists, educationists and others who may be attracted by its ostensible programmes.

It appeared that the PWA had perceptively tapped into the groundswell of a great upheaval in Indian society. The first all-India meeting of the PWA was held at Lucknow in 1936, and was presided over by Premchand, whose inaugural address “Sahitya ka uddeshya” (The purpose of literature) remains one of the most important documents of the movement. The manifesto of the association was reworked to make it more inclusive of those whose politics were not avowedly socialist. Further the demand for a common language and script for Indian literature was dropped, reflecting the political realities of the country’s multilingual structure.

The Hindi version of the manifesto also attempted to articulate a definition of “Progressive” which could accommodate a wide spectrum of views and attract as many people as possible, and included the following additional paragraph:

All those things which take us toward confusion, dissension, and blind imitation are conservative; also, all that which engenders in us a critical capacity, which induces us to test our dear traditions on the touchstone of our reason and perception, which makes us healthy and produces among us the strength of unity and integration, that is what we call Progressive.

From its very inception, the PWA had a group of committed socialists at its core but its larger membership was not limited to writers of any particular political persuasion. In fact, it was consciously opened out to include all writers who shared the manifesto’s basic commitments. The PWA thus functioned as an umbrella under which progressive writers of all stripes could find a place. The PWA understood its mission to be that of constructing a “united front” of writers against imperialism and reactionary social tendencies, and for a life-affirming art. For the longest time then, taraqqi-pasandi or “progressivism” in Urdu literature was justifiably identified with the PWA. Never before had writers across India been mobilised around a single platform so effectively, and in no previous movements had a literary school so redefined the terms of its creative output and its engagement with its society and times.

Excerpted with permission from A Celebration of Progressive Urdu Poetry: Anthems of Resistance By Ali Husain Mir and Raza Mir India Ink/Roli Books Pvt. Available with Liberty Books, Park Towers, Clifton, Karachi. Tel: 021-5832525 (Ext: 111) Website: www.libertybooks.com ISBN 81-86939-26-1 248pp. Indian Rs395

Ali Husain Mir and Raza Mir are university professors. They grew up in Hyderabad, India, on a steady diet of progressive Urdu poetry. They divide their time between India and the US