A Short Walk in the Indus Basin (Files)

A couple of months ago, I was asked by the World Bank to review all the records connected with Bank’s involvement in the Indus Basin mediation between India and Pakistan back in the 50s.  The Bank’s mediation efforts led to the Indus Waters Treaty, 1960 and to the peaceful settlement of one of the most contentious and potentially explosive issues between India and Pakistan after Partition.

The review was made necessary by an upcoming arbitration proceeding between India and Pakistan concerning the building of a new hydroelectric dam on a major river in the Indus Basin.  One of the parties alleged that the dam would adversely affect its water rights vouchsafed under the Indus Waters Treaty.

When I first saw all the boxes of Indus Basin records sitting on the shelves in the Bank’s Archives, my heart sank. It seemed like an impossible task to plough through all those records to find out whether there was anything “confidential or sensitive” in there that should not be given to the parties for the purposes of the arbitration proceedings.

At that time, I was blissfully unaware that there were actually 194 boxes to go through and more than 70,000 pages to read! 

The archivist helping me calmly assured me that the Archives staff would assist me with any questions I might have.  She rolled out the first three boxes on her trolley and just kept on rolling them out, remorselessly, day after day.  I started thinking about Sisyphus.

In one of the first few files that I opened, I found an original letter signed by Jawaharlal Nehru, Prime Minister of India and another letter signed by Field Marshal Ayub Khan, President of Pakistan.  I was a little awed. 

In time, I became a bit blasé as I saw other original signatures of Prime Ministers and Presidents (including John F. Kennedy) but I will never forget that first rush--seeing characters from the history books becoming (almost) flesh and blood.

Over the course of the weeks I spent there, I came to realize that the Indus Basin records provide an impressive tribute to one of the Bank's singular achievements.  

The Bank, still in its early years, is helping to forge an historic agreement (the Indus Waters Treaty) between two countries emerging from the trauma of Partition.  The people of both countries critically depend upon the rivers of the Indus Basin network.  The Bank and policy makers in India and Pakistan have to find some modus vivendi in order to avert a "breakdown in relations" (read war).

Bank officials went to incredible lengths to ensure that they acted with absolute impartiality. There are multiple expressions of gratitude to the Bank from the senior-most levels of government in India and Pakistan.  Based upon all that I read, the Bank should be very proud of this chapter in its history.

The professionalism, patience and sheer persistence of Bank officials at all levels over a grueling ten-year period was nothing short of heroic.  But heroics came with a price.  At the end of it all, when the Indus Waters Treaty was finally signed in September 1960, Sir William Iliff confessed that although he would be 62 in October, he felt like 82.  I felt a bit the same way on my 194^th box!

That same professionalism and determination was shared by a wide range of officials from India and Pakistan working closely with the Bank over those years.  The mass of materials that the parties produced, studied and debated was truly prodigious.

India and Pakistan's policymakers had to make huge leaps of faith before they could come to an agreement.  Many painful concessions had to be accommodated by both sides and, ultimately, monumental civil works projects had to be undertaken by Pakistan to make the final Settlement a reality  (The Mangla Dam alone was about two and a half times bigger than Egypt’s Aswan Dam).

It is interesting to reflect that I worked on issues related to another of those projects--the Tarbela Dam--during my time at the Bank and that some staff are still working on issues related to that project some 50 years later.

The Indus Basin records encompass everything from correspondence between senior Bank officials and heads of state, Board documents, memoranda, proposals, counter proposals, notes and minutes of endless meetings to a huge trove of technical documents such as irrigation records, river flow statistics, schematic drawings, bound volumes of engineering reports, government publications and multiple maps of remote parts of the Indus Basin river network.

Opening up some of the technical documents, especially cunningly folded maps and fading schematic drawings that had not been opened for years on end, there was a slight smell of must and decay--sometimes accompanied by a puff of dust. Was it coincidental that I had to stay home one day because I felt dizzy and nauseous--or was it just allergies?  I kept thinking about that film “The Mummy”. 

And, of course, the records contain the Indus Waters Treaty itself, looking amazingly fresh and untouched, replete with three large red seals.

While you can find moments of real drama in the records (like the “incident” at the Ferezepore headworks in 1956 where sustained gunfire took place between India and Pakistan’s armed forces and produced a flurry of agitated cables to the Bank from both sides), for the most part they are rather bland and business-like.  

However, from many hand-written notes and informal minutes of meetings you can sense the character and motivations of many of the Bank's principal players—from the visionary Eugene Black (then President of the Bank) and the unruffled Sir William Iliff to the bold Sir Kenelm Guinness (who only died this May) and the dynamic General Wheeler. (Did you have to have a title to work for the Bank in those days?).

Likewise, personal letters from Nehru and Ayub Khan, crafted in flawless English, contained some heart-felt passages when touching upon the plight of the poor people on both sides of the border and their desperate need for water.

There were also many personal letters in the records that revealed some amusing, touching and, perhaps, overly frank assessments. Who wrote those letters and to whom they were sent I can’t reveal but it really doesn’t matter.  They reflect a human dimension to names that were otherwise just found at the bottom of various letters.

Letter from a Bank staff member in Pakistan to a staff member in Washington:

 “X told me this morning that he is answering the two or three letters which you have written him before he too departs on safari”.  (Those were the days).

Letter from a General to another General:

 “ …as I am leaving this afternoon to have Thanksgiving dinner with my godmother, Mrs Y, in Washington…”  (An officer and a gentleman).

Letter from a Bank staff member in Pakistan to a staff member in Washington:

“ I do not think that the Indus Basin Settlement Plan can be sold as an economic project.  It must be frankly recognized to be a political settlement which has very little to do with economics.”  (With friends like this…).

Letter from a Pakistani official to his Indian counterpart on his pending visit to India: 

“A member of superior clerical staff and a peon may also accompany”.  (No computers?)

Letter from a Bank staff member in Pakistan to a staff member in Washington:

 “It is, of course, absurd to suppose that I said anything even approximating the statement imputed to me that Pakistan would need a World Bank loan of Rs 800 crores.  I am not quite out of my mind”. 

I was also reminded that engineers have a nice sense of history when I read this dedication in a Report on the Rajasthan Canal Project, 1948:

“I constrained a mighty river to flow according to my will and led water to fertilize lands that had before been barren and without inhabitants”.

                      An inscription from the tomb of Queen Semiramis

At the end of each day, I would sit down in the Reading Room with the archivists to review what I had found that day and to ask questions about a range of documents that I had flagged as either “confidential or sensitive”.  

This is when I was introduced to some of the mysteries of the Archives, their "best practices", how certain markings on documents were viewed if they were not made by the "creating party" and what "Secret", "Strictly Confidential", "Confidential",  "Restricted" and "For Official Use Only" meant in archival terms.  

They were so dedicated, enthusiastic and helpful that the well-worn phrase "without whom it would have been impossible" comes to mind. All the Archives staff I came into contact with were truly passionate about their work and their profession.  I can now add them to a very select group of professionals who are beyond passionate about their work—geologists and miners. 

I worked in the natural resources industry in Canada and Australia for some years. During this time I learned that you should never sit next to a geologist or a miner with a glass of beer if you do not have six hours to talk about deposition remnant magnetization or cast blasting.

Could it be that geologists, miners and archivists are so committed because they work on matters that tend to be buried underground?  But I digress.

The Indus Basin records provide a fascinating glimpse into the past. It is a trite observation to make but you suddenly realize that decisions taken and documents created over 50 years ago are still exerting their own powerful influence today. 

After all, the whole point of my assignment was to decide what Bank archival records could or could not be disclosed to the parties in the context of their forthcoming arbitration proceedings. A treaty drawn up during the 50s will determine the outcome of events in the second decade of the 21^st century. So, the past lives on.

But the past can also come back to haunt us.  There were some documents on the file that might raise a few eyebrows either because they were too frank or were given in confidence to the Bank by an outside party.

The position I took was that these are really documents of historic interest only at this stage.  The Bank’s own policy provides for declassification of its “deliberative proceedings” after 20 years.  Many of these documents are well over 50 years old and most of the people involved have passed on.

Some of my operational colleagues were a little concerned that I might have “romanticized” the whole Archives experience.  Maybe.  But I don’t think so.  It is difficult to feel overly excited when you have to plough through large files on  “Sediment Transport by Running Water and the Design of Stable Channels in Alluvial Soil”.  Or to feel gripped by the file on “Waterlogging and Salinity in West Pakistan”.  I understand that Archives staff can also encounter tedium on occasion.

All I can say is that as soon as I walked into the Archives, past that huge photo of the Bretton Woods conference and into the silence of the Reading Room, I felt that I had discovered a part of the Bank that I should have discovered long ago. 

I loved the old photos on the walls and the many fascinating books and reports on the shelves.  My favorite artifact was the framed copy of the Bank’s original telephone directory.  It fitted onto one page!  I wonder whether all the budget cuts in the Bank are designed to return us to that happy state?

On the last day of my assignment, I left the Bank’s Archives at 5PM and headed for the National Archives.  Regee, my wife, wanted to hear a talk by Chef Jose Andres (of Atlántico and Jaleo fame) who is fascinated by the history of food in America and is working on a large exhibition with the National Archives.

David S. Ferriero, the United States Archivist, introduced Chef Jose Andres and the program for the evening.  Mr. Ferriero admitted to being an amateur cook and was sporting a large white apron for the occasion.  He was obviously enjoying himself.  In the past, I might have wondered how an archivist could be having so much fun?  Now I know!