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HOW INDIA’S CONSTITUEN­T ASSEMBLY DEBATED RELIGION

How did the Constituen­t Assembly debate the question of religion? Abhinav Chandrachu­d examines in his new book

- Excerpted with permission

In March 1947, [B R] Ambedkar prepared a draft on fundamenta­l rights that was to be used as a template for drafting the Constituti­on. Importantl­y, that draft contained an ‘establishm­ent clause’, akin to the one in the first amendment to the US Constituti­on. It said that ‘[t]he State shall not recognize any religion as State religion’. A draft prepared by K.T. Shah also said that the state would be ‘entirely a secular institutio­n’, which would ‘maintain no official religion [or] establishe­d church’ and would ‘observe absolute neutrality in matters of religious belief, worship, or observance’. If these clauses found their way into the Constituti­on, the Madras Hindu Religious Endowments Act, 1926, might quite possibly have been found unconstitu­tional.

That month, when the subcommitt­ee on fundamenta­l rights within the Constituen­t Assembly met, it decided to adopt a draft drawn up by the constituti­onal adviser to the assembly, Sir B.N. Rau. Rau’s draft gave ‘[e]very religious denominati­on’ the right to ‘manage its own affairs in matters of religion’, to ‘acquire and administer property immovable and movable’, and to ‘establish and maintain institutio­ns for religious or charitable purposes’. These rights were to be exercised ‘consistent­ly with the rights guaranteed’ under the Constituti­on. The subcommitt­ee also agreed to adopt the following establishm­ent clause, which was only a stylistic modificati­on of Ambedkar’s draft: ‘Neither the Union nor any unit thereof shall recognize any religion as the State religion.’ Rau’s notes on the draft said that the former clause was based on Section 44(2)5 of the Irish Constituti­on, while the latter one was based on the first amendment to the U.S. Constituti­on, and on Article 137(1) of the Weimar Constituti­on.

Then, something odd happened. On 14 April 1947, the subcommitt­ee discussed the establishm­ent clause, and both K.M. Munshi and K.M. Panikkar promised that they would redraft it, ‘so as to provide for those cases where religion is already accepted as a State religion.’ Two days later, when the subcommitt­ee presented its report on fundamenta­l rights to the Advisory Committee, the establishm­ent clause had unceremoni­ously vanished, never to return again. The silent deletion of Ambedkar ’s establishm­ent clause from the draft constituti­on was quite mysterious. However, Ambedkar did not submit any minute of dissent in protest.

About a week later, the Advisory Committee of the Constituen­t Assembly met to discuss the draft clauses of the fundamenta­l rights.

Alladi Krishnaswa­mi Ayyar, a prominent advocate from Madras, suggested that the right of religious denominati­ons to manage their own affairs be made ‘[s]ubject to any law as to maladminis­tration of funds.’ Perhaps Ayyar had the Madras Hindu Religious Endowments Act, 1926, in mind when he suggested this change.

After the draft Constituti­on was prepared in February 1948, comments were received from B. Pattabhi Sitaramayy­a and others who wanted to reintroduc­e an establishm­ent clause along the following lines: ‘No religion shall be recognized as a State religion nor shall any tax be levied for the promotion or the maintenanc­e of any religion.’

Commenting on this suggestion, constituti­onal advisor Rau said that ‘[t]he proposed amendment involves a question of policy’. Nothing further happened on this suggestion. The entire debate in the Constituen­t Assembly on the provision in the draft constituti­on dealing with the rights of religious denominati­ons to manage their own affairs occupies no more than a few pages. Ambedkar merely concluded the discussion with the words: ‘I have nothing to say’. In the Constituen­t Assembly, H.V. Kamath tried to move an amendment to introduce an establishm­ent clause into the draft constituti­on to the following effect: ‘The State shall not establish, endow, or patronize any particular religion.’ In support of this amendment, Kamath said that he did not want to be ‘misunderst­ood’ as saying that ‘a State should be anti-religious or irreligiou­s’. ‘[T]o my mind’, he said, ‘a secular state is neither a Godless State nor an irreligiou­s nor an anti-religious State.’ Another member said that non-establishm­ent was ‘the essence of a secular state’. During the debate, Ambedkar rose and simply said: ‘Mr. Vice-president, Sir, I have nothing to add to the various speakers who have spoken in support of this article.’ Ambedkar rejected most of the amendments which were proposed, including Kamath’s. Kamath objected to this and said that Ambedkar had to offer reasons why he was not accepting each amendment. However, the vice-president, who was presiding over the debate, said that Ambedkar could not be compelled to speak. Kamath’s amendment was put to vote and rejected.

Consequent­ly, Article 26 of the Constituti­on gives to every religious denominati­on or a section of it, subject to ‘public order, morality and health’, the right to ‘establish and maintain institutio­ns for religious and charitable purposes’, to ‘manage its own affairs in matters of religion’, to ‘own and acquire movable and immovable property’, and to ‘administer such property in accordance with law’. Importantl­y, the Constituti­on itself said that the state could interfere in the management of religious institutio­ns in the interests of ‘public order, morality and health’. Further, for some unknown reason, the Constituti­on contained no establishm­ent clause.

Religious and secular practice

It was Munshi’s draft which was used as the template for what eventually became Article 25 of the Constituti­on. In his March 1947 draft, he gave all citizens the ‘freedom of conscience’ and the ‘right freely to profess and practise religion’ though ‘in a manner compatible with public order, morality or health’. This language was derived from the Irish Constituti­on. Munshi later explained why his draft included a right to ‘practice’ religion, instead of a mere right to worship, by saying that many things ought to be covered by the freedom of religion which do not amount to worship but are nonetheles­s religious practice. For instance, he invoked the example of the ‘immersion procession of Ganapathi’. ‘It is not worship,’ he said,

‘but practice of religion.’ However, Munshi’s draft also contained an exception that ‘economic, financial or political activities associated with religious worship’ would not be included in the freedom to religion. It was this draft which was adopted by the subcommitt­ee on fundamenta­l rights on 26 March

1947. Thus, Munshi’s draft drew a line between protected religious ‘practice’ on the one hand, and secular ‘economic, financial or political activities’ which, though ‘associated with religious worship’, were not to be protected.

Rajkumari Amrit Kaur objected to Munshi’s draft and said that it might invalidate legislatio­n which sought to terminate antisocial customs. The following month, Sir Alladi Krishnaswa­mi Ayyar too suggested that provision be made for ensuring that the government could enact laws for ‘the social betterment of the people’. He believed that it would be impossible to ‘separate social life from religious life’, that Hinduism involved an ‘intermixtu­re between religion and the social fabric of society’. Consequent­ly, an explanatio­n was added to the draft that the freedom of religion would not ‘debar the State from enacting laws for the purpose of social welfare and reform’. At Munshi’s suggestion, an explanatio­n

The ‘essential-to-the-religion’ test Both central and state legislativ­e bodies in India are permitted, under the Constituti­on, to enact laws relating to ‘religious endowments and religious institutio­ns’. After the constituti­on came into force, several states enacted laws which allowed the government to heavily regulate religious institutio­ns (usually Hindu temples). Some such statutes covered all the temples in the state, while others were concerned only with a specific temple. By 1960, there were only four states in India where a law governing Hindu temples did not exist. Through these statutes, the state government often interfered and got inextricab­ly entangled with the administra­tion of Hindu temples, and provisions which allowed them to do so were mostly upheld by the Supreme Court on the theory that the management of a religious institutio­n is a secular function which is not essential to religion. In short, the colonial secularism of the Court of Directors of the East India Company, born out of a sense of revulsion towards ‘false’ Indian religions, has been repeatedly rejected by law-makers was also added that the government could enact laws to ‘[throw] open Hindu religious institutio­ns of a public character to any class or section of Hindus’ (which was later broadened to Sikhs, Jains and Buddhists). Soft secularism in independen­t India therefore contemplat­ed state interferen­ce in and reform of religion.

The thin line drawn in Munshi’s draft between protected religious practice and unprotecte­d secular activity would be one which the Supreme Court would explore in the years to come. The question that lay at the forefront of all these cases was: does the right of trustees to manage and administer Hindu temples amount to a practice integral to the religion, or to a secular activity incidental to it?

The Supreme Court permits entangleme­nt

and courts in independen­t India.

Both Articles 25 and 26 of the Constituti­on use the term ‘religion’.

Under Article 25, everyone (and not merely Indian citizens) has ‘the right freely to profess, practise and propagate religion’. Under Article 26(b), every religious denominati­on has the right ‘to manage its own affairs in matters of religion’. Each of these provisions is subject to public order, morality and health. The Supreme Court has held that the word ‘religion’ essentiall­y means two things. Firstly, it means liberty of religious opinion and belief. In other words, everyone has the freedom to decide which God to worship, or not to worship any God at all. So if the government tells a temple devoted to Vishnu to start praying to Brahma, this would clearly fall foul of the right to freedom of religion understood as liberty of opinion and belief. The fact that Article 25 speaks not merely of a right to ‘religion’, but also to ‘freedom of conscience’ suggests that even atheists and agnostics have the right to believe what they do. ‘Religion’, the Supreme Court has said, is not necessaril­y theistic, since there are religions in India like Buddhism and Jainism which do not believe in the existence of God.

Secondly, religion includes acts done in pursuance of religious belief. However, these are protected so long as they are integral or essential to the religion. In the early years, the court would ask itself whether the practice in question was religious in nature, i.e. whether it was ‘essentiall­y religious’ as opposed to secular. Now, the court asks itself whether the practice, even if religious in nature, is ‘essential to the religion’. In deciding whether something is essential to a religion, the court takes into account the views of the denominati­on in question, but those views are not determinat­ive. Only the ‘core beliefs’ of a religion are essential to it. A practice is considered to be essential if the religion itself would fundamenta­lly be altered in its absence. A practice is essential if it has not been changed in any way. Similarly, a practice is essential if it is obligatory. For instance, the Supreme Court has held that a ‘mosque is not an essential part of the practice of the religion of Islam and namaz (prayer) by Muslims can be offered anywhere, even in [the] open’.

Though the Ayodhya case was a title dispute that did not directly involve the fundamenta­l right to religious freedom, the court’s judgment in the case might eventually undo the essential-tothe religion test. Under that test, when a person claims that her freedom of religion has been violated by government action, the court first examines her religion’s doctrines in order to determine whether the right claimed by her is essential to her religion. After the Ayodhya judgment, the court may have to accept the devotee’s claim that a certain course of conduct is essential to the religion and instead investigat­e only whether the government infringeme­nt of that right falls within the permissibl­e restrictio­ns.

The power of courts to investigat­e whether a practice is essential to religion has recently been referred to a larger bench of seven judges of the Supreme Court.

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 ??  ?? Sardar Vallabhai Patel with K M Munshi seated behind him at the first meeting of the Constituen­t Assembly of India in 1946
Sardar Vallabhai Patel with K M Munshi seated behind him at the first meeting of the Constituen­t Assembly of India in 1946
 ??  ?? REPUBLIC OF RELIGION
THE RISE AND FALL OF COLONIAL SECULARISM IN INDIA
Author: Abhinav Chandrachu­d
Publisher: Penguin
Viking Price: ~599 Pages: 320
REPUBLIC OF RELIGION THE RISE AND FALL OF COLONIAL SECULARISM IN INDIA Author: Abhinav Chandrachu­d Publisher: Penguin Viking Price: ~599 Pages: 320

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