Stone walls do not a prison make, but prison walls can make a leader. Jawaharlal Nehru was in prison when he wrote Glimpses of World History; letters to Indira, his daughter, which greatly influenced her perception of history and the forces that shape it. His mentor, Mahatma Gandhi, used his failures, ethical dilemmas, and self-examinations as the basis for his narrative in The Story of My Experiments with Truth. Both were not simply memoirs, but rather efforts to understand the process of building a nation and the individuals who shaped it. Sonia Gandhi’s Belonging: A Journey of Love, a 544-page memoir was not even published before it became a political issue; with the BJP challenging her accounts of the Emergency, the Babri Masjid demolition, and other controversial events. Predictably, the Congress Party defended Sonia’s right to relate her story in the manner she experienced it. The true story is, can political candour translate into political capital? Can a confession create a different conversation, a recollection rewrite a reputation, or an admission of error alter the paradigm of history? In a time of immediate anger, selective recall, and weaponised WhatsApp forwards, does honesty have an audience, let alone an electoral advantage?
Political autobiographies are generally not simple reminisces. Sometimes, they are attempts at self-defense; other times they are attempts to get even; occasionally they are political “hand grenades” thrown after the fight seems over. LK Advani’s My Country My Life recounts the controversy surrounding his statements about Jinnah in 2005, which created a furor within his own party. Arjun Singh’s post-mortem publication A Grain of Sand in the Hourglass of Time created additional controversy surrounding the Congress leadership’s response to the Babri Masjid crisis and PV Narasimha Rao’s involvement. Jyoti Basu’s retrospection of the CPI(M)’s decision to deny him prime ministership in 1996 as a historic mistake provided a long-lasting phrase for one of the most debated political crossroads for the Left. Pranab Mukherjee’s multi-volume reflections offered an alternate interpretation to the same incident Sonia Gandhi is revisiting in her own memoir: the 2004 prime ministerial decision. Two participants, two interpretations, one political incident. History becomes more interesting when the witnesses disagree. Outside of India, Nelson Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom shows how an autobiography can transcend its author’s reputation as a record of apartheid, resistance, imprisonment, and negotiations. Barack Obama’s A Promised Land places personal ambition and presidential decision-making against the backdrop of the financial crisis, healthcare reform, and America’s global responsibilities. While the author may be in front, the actual protagonist is the historical moment. This is why it is important to look beyond Sonia Gandhi’s memoir as a continuation of the Congress-versus-BJP slugfest. Her admission that the Emergency was a mistake and her reaction to the Babri Masjid demolition pose questions that go beyond family history: questions of political responsibility, institutional dysfunction, leadership, and the consequences of decisions made at the top. But then, memoirs are not affidavits given under oath and memories are not official records of meetings. The BJP’s reaction to the book is part of the story. Attacking Sonia’s version has allowed them to use the book as an opportunity to review the Congress’s past record. By default, they have generated publicity for the very events discussed in the memoir.
Political amplification and political conversion are two very different things. A memoir discussed on TV does not imply that its contents will stay on in the minds of voters in the upcoming state elections. It is highly unlikely that the majority of rural Indians will read a 544-page tome just because party spokespersons are arguing about it. There are times when the “trailer” travels further than the “film” in politics. The bigger question is about the rewards of being honest. Nehru’s autobiography and Gandhi’s experiments with truth, and Sonia Gandhi’s memoir, all pose the same question: What happens when public figures place their private doubts and political contradictions on public record? The response, sometimes, is criticism; other times it is continued controversy; still other times it is a more complex view of the past.
History isn’t a PR firm, nor will future generations follow the author’s bio on the back flap. Posterity has plenty of writers, but hasn’t enough writers who will tell the complete story. A confession may not be followed by forgiveness; honesty doesn’t translate into votes; and a memoir won’t guarantee that a politician’s reputation lives on forever. However, in the long term, how we remember politicians telling the truth will be remembered far longer than 1,000 well-written speeches.
