Ramnath focuses on the interconnected and mobile interactions of communities in South and Southeast Asia as a ‘history of citizenship and decolonization’ (p. 1) in newly formed, border-focused states. She uses law to trace these negotiations and flesh out the experiences of those who lived through this poignant time in the region’s decolonization history.
Boats in a Storm begins in 1942 with the Japanese capture of Burma during the Second World War. The forced displacements and migration that began then set the ball rolling for how ideas of identity and belonging were imagined and executed in the region. Geographically, the focus is on India, Burma (Myanmar) and Ceylon (Sri Lanka), with references to Malaysia and Singapore as well. The author acknowledges that the time and incident at which this migration (and this book) begins are also where most literature on migration ends. Ramnath opens up an area of enquiry that is understudied and hence, unique.
The book makes important interventions by showcasing decolonization as not just a moment but a long and ongoing process. It uses law ‘not only as doctrine or principle but as practice’ (p. 6) that can ‘shape space and time’ (p. 8). Exclusively official records of history sanitize memory by excluding what people’s lived realities looked like. Ramnath tries to undo that by going beyond legal technicalities and citing examples of individuals’ run-ins with the law, which elucidate the experiences of changing legal regimes and statuses.
The author showcases how citizenship and belonging in these new nation-states evolved at the intersection of national myth-making, ethnonationalism and notions of loyalty. ‘Outsiders’ and migrants had to irrefutably prove their loyalty. The arbitrary premise of ‘loyalty’ to one country, without any other links or allegiances, decided whether groups could be granted citizenship. For example, in light of the Second World War and its violence, many people who fled their adopted homes to safety were tagged as runaways and deemed traitors. Eventually, ‘…these early murmurs of discontent would culminate in calls to deny the citizenship of Ceylon to anyone of Indian origin that lived on that island’ (p. 38). As for the ones who stayed back, either out of choice or compulsion, ‘Their demonstrations of loyalty too would go unnoticed in the context of postwar immigration and citizenship regimes’ (pp. 38-39).
Also notable in Ramnath’s work is an acknowledgement of the imposition of Western knowledge systems on a region that did not feature in the West’s intellectual consideration. Colonial law did not account for subcontinental practices, and by inheriting fundamental frameworks from colonialism, the new nation-state’s law alienated the people it was meant to serve. For example, people were classified as per borrowed administrative definitions like citizen, stateless, immigrant, refugee, etc., while in reality, hardly anyone experienced these identities in singular silos. Inheriting these Western systems marked a transition from intangible understandings of personal narratives and mobility, to tangible ones like documents and borders. Territorial and border-centric notions of citizenship and sovereignty do not accurately capture the experiences of a mobile society. This forced disentanglement of essentially intertwined communities is not an indigenous project, leading to the lacunae in conceptualizing identity and executing jurisdiction.
In her discourse on the excesses of such paper-dependent regimes, Ramnath invokes Kamal Sadiq’s work about immigrants rarely being undocumented but states simply declaring their documentation insufficient or improper. The author aptly refers to Bhavani Raman’s framing of the ‘duplicity of paper’, where the legal proof for legitimate applications was so unrealistic that it would have required some level of deception. Hence the double-edged sword of having either insufficient or suspicious evidence. The emphasis on documented evidence, arbitrary technical categorizations of identity, judicial delays and the general confusion that comes with processes in new nation-states created many gaps in the ‘system’ that people quietly slipped through.
The book highlights that the foremost question in the process of nation-building is, ‘who belongs’. The commonalities in negotiating identity across the countries the book refers to are marked by insecurity typical of nascent nation-states. We see how economic insecurity about outsiders influenced tax regimes and remittance rules. Ideological reservations led to the detention of presumed Communists and kept them away from mainstream citizenry. Generations-deep native origins and language overrode nationalistic loyalties, attachments and residential realities in decisions surrounding citizenship. This reveals that people and communities who were all part of the larger colonial imagination were not automatically part of the national ones.
The concerns Boats in a Storm raises are not just historical injustices. They continue to have relevance across Asia—and elsewhere in the world—with ‘who belongs?’ being asked even today. All these years later, paranoia surrounding outsiders and disloyal ‘anti-nationals’ is still rampant. The overwhelming emphasis on documentary proof and the inconsistent acceptance of such evidence continues to mar processes of granting and proving citizenship. The transit routes that migrants and evacuees used in 1942 are the same ones that are used by immigrants and refugees today. Though migrant networks of capital, credit and residence might not exist in the same way as they did pre-war, the economies and cultures of the region are still linked.
The author has delved into intensive archival research to support her arguments. As a skilled historian, she uses this research to sketch stories of individuals and trace family journeys. In parts, the book reads like an anthology of personalistic experiences tied together by the more academic central themes. These aspects shine most in chapter 4 titled ‘Application Forms’, which is about immigrants and their experiences with the newfound focus on paperwork and documentation. This approach brings a humanistic tenderness that benefits the book. The artistic and evocative cover designed by Devangana Dash, along with the poetic book title, are elements reminiscent of works of fiction. To me, this is a great success as it boosts the book’s appeal and approachability.
Ramnath covers a lot of ground across seven chapters, with each chapter intended to examine a specific legal regime relevant to the time of study, though the chapterization is not always clear. The purpose of dividing the book into two parts is also not clear. In some parts, the book tackles several niche, technical themes, which could disconnect the reader. I felt this especially in chapter 3 titled ‘Tax Receipts’ which explores the legal nuances of tax regimes across the region as well as traditional Chettiar economic practices. While I acknowledge that this is essential information, its inclusion seemed overwhelming.
With its focus on Southeast Asia and refugee and migration studies, Boats in a Storm is a valuable read that does not require specialized, pre-existing knowledge of legal structures or citizenship discourses. Kalyani Ramnath astutely points out that the histories of colonization and decolonization of South and Southeast Asia are connected. By using both official and personal narratives, she shows how worldmaking and nation-building are not just political enterprises. And, by letting these experiences disrupt popular national narratives, she establishes that there is not one uniform truth to such events.
Fiona Raval is a Researcher with the South East Asia Research Programme at the Institute of Peace and Conflict Studies (IPCS), New Delhi. Her research interests are focused on India’s neighbourhood, specifically migration and refugee studies.