The Free City of Cawnpore
Torrents of rain had engulfed Cawnpore's streets and I had spent a few hours perusing the city's sweltering bazaars, before making my way to the pre-agreed meeting place. It is an old spot, common to Cawnpores and Kanpurs across the multiverse, and in every world it is consistently bleak, a reminder of the capacity of mankind for unfathomable cruelty. General Sir Hugh Wheeler's entrenchment is a symbol of the monstrosities committed during what the inhabitants of this world call the First Indian Civil War. Cawnpore's independence, and the composition of her government is a consequence of the Second.
Waiting for me under an umbrella, on a bench nearby the entrenchment is my first point of contact, a city councillor named Raj Mansur. Mansur does not have the look of a member of a military government, dressed as he is in a loose fitting Nehru jacket. He smiles gently and nods.
'That is because Cawnpore is not typical of military regimes as you are used to encountering them, Mr Chana.' he replies patiently. I press him, but he does not dispute that it is the army that runs the country? Mansur raises a hand, touching the tip of his forefinger to his thumb. 'That is not quite true. The army is the country, the country is the army. The army does not run the country because they are one and the same.'
I feel this explanation is somewhat lacking and ask what this arrangement actually entails practically.
'All citizens of Cawnpore are conscripted, from the moment they enter education, being organised into cadres. However, few don a uniform and serve in a military capacity. Before the age of majority, conscription merely entails involvement in the Cawnpore Scouts, being inculcated in values of community and self-reliance. When citizens become adults, they undertake National Service which can be served in a military or civilian capacity. After that is completed, the majority of Cawnpuris move into the reserve pool and pursue civilian careers, their only responsibilities to check in for basic training and drill from time to time. All citizens of Cawnpore are soldiers, and the distinction between army and country cannot be made in practical terms.' I open my mouth to ask a question, but Mansur ignores me, warming to his theme. 'A crucial difference between our army and that of many other nations is our democratic nature. We have no separate officer corps. All officers are elected by their soldiers, and this democratic tradition is continued in our administration, with all citizens electing a Parliament of officers drawn from their own ranks. So you see, Mr Chana, we are not some tinpot dictatorship.' he finishes, arching his eyebrow.
I ask him how this peculiar system came to be, and Mansur is all too willing to answer.
'When Winston Churchill launched his imperalist war against the Soviets, the British soldiers based here went on strike. As that war led to atomic devastation in Europe, the peoples of India rose up in revolution, but not as one. This part of India was known as the United Provinces and was one of the most torn. The British soldiers, who had already established a 'Forces Parliament' overthrew the colonial government and defended the city from the anarchists, communists and bandits who plagued the region, drawing fresh recruits from the city itself. Over the decades since, Cawnpore has remained independent even as the rest of the subcontinent has changed, and the initial British soldiers who composed the Forces Parliament have been displaced by the citizen-soldiers of Cawnpore.'
If the Parliament is elected by the army (or country) en masse, how is representation organised I ask.
'It is not quite en masse. We hold regular general elections, and citizens elect a representative for each borough of the city, who then sits in Parliament. The only time a party has been able to hold a majority in the Parliament was in the early years when the British soldiers elected a British Labour government. Since then, we have had coalition governments which unite the majority of the city.'
The view of the city's politics that Mansur presented me with feels distinctly utopian, and so for a second opinion, I move to the much drier surroundings of a cafe nestled in Cawnpore's suburbs (such as they are in such a densely packed city). Dr Rani Choudhary is a consultant for the enormous city's water board, ensuring that Cawnpore's water (largely drawn from the Ganges) is well distributed and cleaned effectively. She rolls her eyes when I tell her what Mansur told me.
'Cawnpore is a democracy, to a certain extent. But it is much more flawed than Mr Mansur has told you. Yes, we have been governed by a coalition government from the 1950s onwards. But by and large, this has been a coalition of Labour and Common Wealth, old British parties, who at their heart are primarily concerned with maintaining their grip on power. There have been occasional breakthroughs by the All-India National Congress, forcing the coalition to bring the Democratic Front into government, but never for long. The Labour and Common Wealth parties are both committed to the concept of the 'citizen-soldier' and through their conscription of children, indoctrinate every generation of Cawnpuri in militaristic values that perpetuate that ideal. The only matters the two parties argue about are secularism, with Labour more associated with Hindu nationalism and social conservatism, and managerialism, with Common Wealth wanting to put the control of Cawnpore's utilities in the hands of cooperatives rather than state corporations.' She shakes her head. 'But together, the two come to a nice, cozy consensus that keeps everything the same. And it can't stay that way forever.'
The vision of Cawnpore she describes sound distinctly static so I ask her what she means when she says it can't stay that way.
'I mean that Cawnpore has problems piling up on her doorstep and the coalition is poorly positioned to deal with it. The Hindustan State has begun putting pressure on her neighbours and Cawnpore is entirely surrounded by Hindustan. The city has grown enormously, well beyond the initial boundaries of the city-state, and as long as Hindustan was decentralised and weak, there was nothing that could be done to stop Cawnpore simply annexing it's sprawl, and the militaristic society here saw no reason to discuss this. Now Hindustan is a potent threat to Cawnpuri sovereignty and the city's government is unused to the idea of compromise or being told what to do. Other states have been able to negotiate association with Hindustan but maintain their independence. I cannot see that happening here, without substantial change in government.' She says sadly. 'I would rather live in Cawnpore than Hindustan, at least here even if a vote is wasted, it is still a vote. But the way things are going, Hindustan will invade Cawnpore to make her kneel, and in a city where every citizen is a soldier, that will never end well. "The army is the country, and the country is the army."'
Map and flag courtesy of @rvbomally
Torrents of rain had engulfed Cawnpore's streets and I had spent a few hours perusing the city's sweltering bazaars, before making my way to the pre-agreed meeting place. It is an old spot, common to Cawnpores and Kanpurs across the multiverse, and in every world it is consistently bleak, a reminder of the capacity of mankind for unfathomable cruelty. General Sir Hugh Wheeler's entrenchment is a symbol of the monstrosities committed during what the inhabitants of this world call the First Indian Civil War. Cawnpore's independence, and the composition of her government is a consequence of the Second.
Waiting for me under an umbrella, on a bench nearby the entrenchment is my first point of contact, a city councillor named Raj Mansur. Mansur does not have the look of a member of a military government, dressed as he is in a loose fitting Nehru jacket. He smiles gently and nods.
'That is because Cawnpore is not typical of military regimes as you are used to encountering them, Mr Chana.' he replies patiently. I press him, but he does not dispute that it is the army that runs the country? Mansur raises a hand, touching the tip of his forefinger to his thumb. 'That is not quite true. The army is the country, the country is the army. The army does not run the country because they are one and the same.'
I feel this explanation is somewhat lacking and ask what this arrangement actually entails practically.
'All citizens of Cawnpore are conscripted, from the moment they enter education, being organised into cadres. However, few don a uniform and serve in a military capacity. Before the age of majority, conscription merely entails involvement in the Cawnpore Scouts, being inculcated in values of community and self-reliance. When citizens become adults, they undertake National Service which can be served in a military or civilian capacity. After that is completed, the majority of Cawnpuris move into the reserve pool and pursue civilian careers, their only responsibilities to check in for basic training and drill from time to time. All citizens of Cawnpore are soldiers, and the distinction between army and country cannot be made in practical terms.' I open my mouth to ask a question, but Mansur ignores me, warming to his theme. 'A crucial difference between our army and that of many other nations is our democratic nature. We have no separate officer corps. All officers are elected by their soldiers, and this democratic tradition is continued in our administration, with all citizens electing a Parliament of officers drawn from their own ranks. So you see, Mr Chana, we are not some tinpot dictatorship.' he finishes, arching his eyebrow.
I ask him how this peculiar system came to be, and Mansur is all too willing to answer.
'When Winston Churchill launched his imperalist war against the Soviets, the British soldiers based here went on strike. As that war led to atomic devastation in Europe, the peoples of India rose up in revolution, but not as one. This part of India was known as the United Provinces and was one of the most torn. The British soldiers, who had already established a 'Forces Parliament' overthrew the colonial government and defended the city from the anarchists, communists and bandits who plagued the region, drawing fresh recruits from the city itself. Over the decades since, Cawnpore has remained independent even as the rest of the subcontinent has changed, and the initial British soldiers who composed the Forces Parliament have been displaced by the citizen-soldiers of Cawnpore.'
If the Parliament is elected by the army (or country) en masse, how is representation organised I ask.
'It is not quite en masse. We hold regular general elections, and citizens elect a representative for each borough of the city, who then sits in Parliament. The only time a party has been able to hold a majority in the Parliament was in the early years when the British soldiers elected a British Labour government. Since then, we have had coalition governments which unite the majority of the city.'
The view of the city's politics that Mansur presented me with feels distinctly utopian, and so for a second opinion, I move to the much drier surroundings of a cafe nestled in Cawnpore's suburbs (such as they are in such a densely packed city). Dr Rani Choudhary is a consultant for the enormous city's water board, ensuring that Cawnpore's water (largely drawn from the Ganges) is well distributed and cleaned effectively. She rolls her eyes when I tell her what Mansur told me.
'Cawnpore is a democracy, to a certain extent. But it is much more flawed than Mr Mansur has told you. Yes, we have been governed by a coalition government from the 1950s onwards. But by and large, this has been a coalition of Labour and Common Wealth, old British parties, who at their heart are primarily concerned with maintaining their grip on power. There have been occasional breakthroughs by the All-India National Congress, forcing the coalition to bring the Democratic Front into government, but never for long. The Labour and Common Wealth parties are both committed to the concept of the 'citizen-soldier' and through their conscription of children, indoctrinate every generation of Cawnpuri in militaristic values that perpetuate that ideal. The only matters the two parties argue about are secularism, with Labour more associated with Hindu nationalism and social conservatism, and managerialism, with Common Wealth wanting to put the control of Cawnpore's utilities in the hands of cooperatives rather than state corporations.' She shakes her head. 'But together, the two come to a nice, cozy consensus that keeps everything the same. And it can't stay that way forever.'
The vision of Cawnpore she describes sound distinctly static so I ask her what she means when she says it can't stay that way.
'I mean that Cawnpore has problems piling up on her doorstep and the coalition is poorly positioned to deal with it. The Hindustan State has begun putting pressure on her neighbours and Cawnpore is entirely surrounded by Hindustan. The city has grown enormously, well beyond the initial boundaries of the city-state, and as long as Hindustan was decentralised and weak, there was nothing that could be done to stop Cawnpore simply annexing it's sprawl, and the militaristic society here saw no reason to discuss this. Now Hindustan is a potent threat to Cawnpuri sovereignty and the city's government is unused to the idea of compromise or being told what to do. Other states have been able to negotiate association with Hindustan but maintain their independence. I cannot see that happening here, without substantial change in government.' She says sadly. 'I would rather live in Cawnpore than Hindustan, at least here even if a vote is wasted, it is still a vote. But the way things are going, Hindustan will invade Cawnpore to make her kneel, and in a city where every citizen is a soldier, that will never end well. "The army is the country, and the country is the army."'
Map and flag courtesy of @rvbomally
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