Several things change as the Indians enter the 20th century. The historical record is more detailed, but silent on crucial elements: discontinuity; subtler his- tories (of perception, emotion); and the Indians' "hidden" history. All these are relevant to understanding contemporary racial discourse. A discontinuity is an interruption of linear historical progression, after social institutions, ways of thinking, and ideas change overnight. There are at least four examples in the 20th century: post-WWII; post-1956; post-1970, and post-1995. Till the 1930s, the Indo social trajectory follows the Africans'. Education is embraced as a tool of advancement; political, literary and debating societies, and publications, appear-East Indian Weekly, East Indian Herald and, later, the Observer and the Statesman. (An annoying, superficial account of these is given in the book Finding a Place, by "Dr" So & So.) Indian names appear in the Freemason lodge lists. Political organisations, like the East Indian National Congress and the East Indian National Association, emerge, as do iconic Indo personalities: George Fitzpatrick and FEM Hosein (both Freemasons) and CD Lalla are named, and then elected to the Legislative Council after 1925. The labour movement brings Indo leaders to national consciousness. Adrian Cola Rienzi (Krishna Deonarine) is arguably the most important figure pre-war. Indos were attracted to Indian nationalism, and Afros to Garveyite black nationalism.
Proto-nationalist intellectuals (Albert Gomes, Alfred Mendes, CLR James et al) acknowledged the Indian presence in their magazine, The Beacon. The Guardian began to run an Indian affairs page in the 1930s. But the progression was not smooth or easy. The black lower middle class saw the movement of the Indians into the urban world as a threat. The trope of "the Indians taking over" was established, and the stereotype of the heathen, illiterate peasant persisted in the Creole imagination-mainly because of the many Indian beggars, labourers, and poor in the city. (Several detailed essays in the 1985 edition of Calcutta to Caroni describes these challenges quite well.) Presbyterians and Indian professionals formed small urban enclaves, embraced European cul- ture, and dissociated from the masses. The mass remained in the rural Indian world of brutal la-bour, poverty, isolation, illiteracy and religious ossification. Indo identity was formed by Indian films more than social institutions. This dynamic would submerge and slip out of historical memory-though its effects would persist, articulated today in "rum songs" and "chutney culture." Importantly, it is this mass, after the huge migrations of the 60s and 70s, who directly contend with black nationalism.
The war, however, changed things irrevocably. The Americans' money, cinema, music, and iconoclastic "cowboy" culture flooded the island. After the war, a different Trinidad emerged-one less class-bound, more modern, materialistic, evil, and socially mobile. (See Harvey Neptune's superb book, Caliban and the Yankees.) It is here the Indians begin to become Trinidadians in their own minds. Pre-war, an important iconic figure was Seepersad Nai-paul, who broke the "traditional" Indian mould and pushed his way into Creole Trinidad. His journey should have been the archetypal integration narrative. But post-war, a singularity formed: Bha-dase Maraj, who had capitalised on the American occupation, which enabled him to be rich and powerful in a way that was inconceivable pre-WWII. Maraj combined all the Indians' conflicting potentials and changed their trajectory. He was Rama and Rawan simultaneously: criminal, guru, entrepreneur, and politician; he forced disparate Indian/Hindu elements into an unstable whole, under the banner of the Maha Sabha, and the People's Democratic Party (PDP). He built schools and controlled the labour unions, and set himself atop the caste system as the uber-Brahmin. He was the quintessential Weberian "charismatic leader" who brought rural Indians into modern Trinidad.
Post-war was also significant because of the universal franchise, granted in 1946, whereupon sections of the population began to mobilise in anticipation of decolonisation. The organising principle for the black lower middle class was the Afro manifest destiny mythos which had existed since the 19th century. Naturally, this hardened a latent awareness of Indian political potential. From here, political competition based on race seems inevitable. But it wasn't: the years till 1956 show interesting elections results- Indo, Afro, and white Creole candidates were returned by electorates not of their own ethnicity, to the Legislative Council. Here, also, literature emerges to provide clarity. Edgar Mittelhol-zer's novel, a Morning at the Office (required reading for Trini- dadians of today and recently re-issued by Peepal Tree Press), follows his characters (from every ethnic group) through a morning as they become enmeshed in their obsessions with race, colour, and class-a realistic account of the social preoccupations of the time. Naipaul's Mystic Masseur and Suffrage of Elvira show the surface life of rural post-war Indians, and Sonny Ladoo's Yesterdays and No Pain Like This Body show their underside. Evident from the history and fiction is widespread racial mistrust, even animosity, but not ra-cial violence. Doubtless this was because all combatants were mindful of their place in empire, and the British "referee" prevented anarchy. Unfortunately, the departure of the referee at independence changed things radically. Race nationalism and inde- pendence ownership myths created a toxic racial environment where Indian racial feeling would crystallise.
To be continued