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This is worth reviewing. I’ve OCRd and prepared a Word version. HTML below. Will annotate when time permits.
Highlight – that the Indian liberals played a crucial role in getting India its post-independence Constitution. India may have forgotten these quiet heroes but every day, Indians are saved from the ravages of extremism (e.g. Hindu raj, Bosean fascism/ communism) because of the hard work of the Indian liberals. If this is true, then the work Indian liberals are doing today will still bear fruit, but in a way that can’t be predicted at present. Maybe our role is to keep madmen like Modi and fools like Kejriwal and Rahul Gandhi in check.
If the British could at least say in 1947, and with pride, that they had instructed India in the political system it was about to adopt, the Indian Liberals could assert with equal pride that they more than any other group of Indians had sought this instruction, pursued its goal and advertised its prospective benefits. The present Indian Constitution is as much their memorial as other men’s victory.
The terms “moderate” and “liberal” had a significance not only functional hut also complementary. These men were genuine nationalists who openly pursued India’s emancipation from British rule and resented the more galling indignities of British imperialism. They were moderates because they preferred gradual constitutional reform to revolutionary methods as the means of achieving independence and because they attempted to secure constitutional reform by cooperating with British authority rather than defying it. The same men can ·appropriately he called “Liberals” because their goals and methods were inspired by British Liberalism. They aimed toward parliamentary democracy, including not only an institutional structure hut a system of values which emphasized the achievement of national welf are through peaceable negotiation and compromise among competing public interests. Educated in British schools and adopting such British-inspired professions as law and journalism, they avidly read British Liberal authors, spoke and wrote in their terms, emulated their policies as closely as possible, sought their aid in Indian affairs, and frankly thought of themselves as an Indian variant of the British original. They will he called “Liberals” here because the word reflects the principles which, as the men themselves believed, were fundamental to their activities.
The Liberal persuasion in Indian politics developed between the time of Ram Mohan Roy in the 1820s and the founding of the Indian National Congress in 1885. British rule was in its prime during this period. The failure of the Mutiny of 1857 left little or no hope for the success of revolutionary violence. The total “public” of politically aware Indians was very small and limited largely to the cities, and only the British-educated cream of this Indian public could expect to exercise political influence in the foreseeable future. British education inspired many members of the new Indian elite to look to England for the available lines of political advance under the prevailing conditions. Meanwhile, the sympathetic help of a few progressive-minded British Liberals inspired ithese Indians to model their political goals and methods on British Liberal precepts.
The nascent Indian Liberals developed a genuine admiration for domestic British political institutions, practices and values. For them, legislative and administrative reform in India therefore aimed at approximating British standards of parliamentary democracy. The official courts and councils of India became the chosen forum of Indian Liberal politics, and the Indian Liberal political style became one of studied constitutionalism and legalism. The Indian National Congress became for the Liberals a model parliament which, despite its relative powerlessness and elite composition, offered India’s new leaders a training ground in the art of self-government and a base from which they could propagate this capacity among their countrymen.
Far from viewing their elitist position as selfish, the Liberals thought of themselves as at once the representatives and tutors of the Indian people at large. They refused to countenance revolutionary ideas or attitudes, considering these inimical to the constitutional and legal values which they were attempting to inculcate in the Indian public. Committed to rational statesmanship as they saw it, they rejected revolution, particularly on a mass basis, because it threatened to arouse forces and attitudes which were irrational and destructive. As an essential corollary, they believed that revolution would not be necessary to achieve India’s independence. They thought that the values of parliamentary democracy were deeply rooted in Britons, even those who were attempting to administer India as a benevolent despotism, and that persistent Indian appeals to the British “conscience,” together with equally persistent Indian efforts to prove themselves capable of parliamentary self-government, would eventually persuade Britain to grant India her independence as a willing gift. It is fair to conclude that these Indian leaders did not really care for independence without representative and “responsible” institutions similar to those of Great Britain; hence their willingness to see independence delayed while the Indian public was becoming more fully prepared for the exercise of such institutions.
So stood Indian Liberalism at the turn of the twentieth century. Yet the Liberals were faced then, as later, by a dilemma. On one hand their educations, professions and political orientations drew them away from indigenous culture and society and set them at odds with the blossoming school of revolutionary, Hindu-oriented nationalism. Radical nationalists accordingly pilloried the Liberals as a narrow, denationalized elite whose interests were inimical to those of the Indian people at large. The radicals viewed Liberal relations with the British as a combination of misconception and self-interest. When the Liberals petitioned for British justice, the radicals charged that Liberal faith in British amenability to the arts of peaceful persuasion was blind and foolish. When the Liberals attempted to cooperate with British authorities, they were called sycophants and collaborators.
On the other hand, the Liberals could not persuade most Britons either in India or England to accept Indians, including the Liberals themselves, as political or social equals. Thus, not only British Conservatives but even British Liberals expressed skepticism about Indian Liberal appeals for rapid constitutional progress toward self-government on the same basis as South Africa, Canada, or Australia. Like the Indian radicals, British officials would not admit that the Indian Liberals represented the Indian masses. Recognizing the success with which the radicals were beginning to arouse Hindu nationalism, Britons tended to take the threats of the radicals more seriously than the appeals of the Liberals. The rise of militant nationalism goaded British officials into sporadic efforts to “rally the Moderates” to the government side, but the Liberals were never viewed as entirely reliable friends of the Empire. Worst of all for the Liberals, the British Government tended to resist all constitutional change until its hand was forced by Indian disorder, which humiliated the moderate reformers and abetted the revolutionary nationalists. In short, the Indian Liberals found themselves in a squeeze between the ultra-nationalism of India’s revolutionaries and the innate conservatism of British imperial interests. Self-appointed as intermediaries transmitting to the Indian nation the best that the British nation had to offer, the Liberals suffered by becoming intermediaries also between two warring camps, neither of which would admit the validity of the Liberal position.
Despite the sniping from both the Indian radical and the British reactionary sides, the Liberals believed that they could point to the Indian Councils Act of 1892 as a victory for the moderate forms of nationalist agitation which were their specialty-reasoned appeals to British justice, efforts to win British parliamentary friends and support, and efforts to demonstrate the equality of Indian and British public men in legislative, judicial and executive skills. They believed the same of the Indian Councils Act of 1909, during whose planning the British Liberal Secretary of State for India, John Morley, had received advice from the leading Indian Liberal of the day, G. K. Gokhale. This sense of rectitude they would carry into the stormy years, 1918 and 1919, when they threw their full weight behind the reforms proposed by a latter-day British Liberal statesman, Edwin Montagu. A crisis in relations between the Liberals and radical nationalists came between 1905 and 1907, when the abortive partition of Bengal by that most masterful of British Viceroys, Lord Curzon, provoked the radicals to attempt forcible transformation of the Congress into a revolutionary sounding board. At this juncture the Liberals proved that they had sufficient control of the organization to oust the radicals and redefine the program of the Congress as strictly constitutionalist. It was not until 1914 that the radicals began seeking readmission to the Congress. Within four years they would be in a position to drive the Liberals out of the organization.
There were several basic reasons for the Liberal decline from 1915 onward. The Liberals were hit hard by the deaths of the most experienced and respected leaders of the older generation. Meanwhile, they had failed to use the Congress as an active base from which to develop a large popular following in India, thus vindicating a key charge of their radical opponents. Related to this lack of mass support was the failure of the Liberals to refashion their philosophy and tactics to fit the changing times. The onset of the First World War brought a general upsurge in India of anti-colonial, self-determinist notions. The radical nationalists were able to make the ideology of self-determination a pointed challenge to Liberal willingness for a continuation of British rule. The Indian Liberals could correctly claim some success in securing constitutional reform, but their elitism and their modest constitutional expectations were endangering their future political effectiveness.
The requisite issue had been foreshadowed already in the parliamentary announcement of August 20, 1917, by Edwin Montagu, the new Secretary of State for India, that Indians would receive a new set of constitutional reforms and that Montagu himself would consult Indian as well as British opinion beforehand. Montagu, a British Liberal, set out purposely to rally Indian sentiment, hut especially Indian Liberal sentiment, to the reform scheme which subsequently came to he known as “dyarchy.” During the fall of 1917 Montagu did begin to “rally the Moderates,” hut at the cost of alienating the radicals from his reform scheme and driving a wedge between the radicals and the Liberals. By the spring of 1918, when Montagu left India with Indian Liberal support in his pocket, Congressmen in India were well on the way toward a final schism.
The radicals called a special session of the Congress to consider the Montagu Report, and a Liberal-radical quarrel promptly broke out over whether the Liberals should bother to attend a meeting whose majority was likely to reject the Report. By the time of the Special Congress of August 1918, the Liberals had persuaded themselves to boycott the meeting as a mark of their disapproval. Meanwhile, they began laying plans for a subsequent Liberal Conference.  Again the predictable occurred: the Special Congress reiterated an essential rejection of the Montagu Report, and the “All India Moderates’ Conference” in November 1918 gave the Report their critical but clear welcome. What had begun as a boycott of one Congress session now became a withdrawal from the Congress organization. Efforts by some individuals of both sides to patch up the break came to grief because the majorities could not resist rancorous public exchanges and ill-concealed suspicions of bad faith. It was also true that the Liberals and radicals were glad to be rid of each other; the majority of either school liked the prospect of an independent, united organization. Almost all the Liberals abstained from the regular Congress of December 1918, and from all future Congress sessions, and the few who braved the Congresses of 1918 and 1919 gave up entirely thereafter. The “Moderates’ Conference” became in December 1919 the “National Liberal Federation of India,” in emulation of the National Liberal Federation of England.
Who was responsible for the schism of 1918? Everyone concerned, in one respect or another. The Indian Liberals were probably hasty in surrendering the field in the Congress, and were certainly over-eager to support Montagu, their new British Liberal hero. The radicals in the Congress were needlessly provocative in accusing the Liberals of being in league with Montagu and in demanding changes in Montagu’s proposals which clearly entailed a complete revision. Montagu was perhaps too eager to “rally the Moderates” without regard for its causing a Liberal-radical schism and threatening the survival of the Liberals as a force in Indian public life. He had too conservative a perspective on the political needs of the situation to try seriously to rally the Indian radicals.
Finally, the whole fabric and perspective of British rule in India contributed to the failure of far-sighted statecraft on the part of the Government of India, the British Cabinet and Parliament. This failure did not begin in 1917 or 1918, but was a continuation of the halting half-measures taken since 1892-measures the less appreciated by Indians because they were grudging, openly condescending, and marred by reactionary exceptions. Although Montagu was personally far more sympathetic to Indian appeals than his predecessor as Secretary of State for India, John Morley, he probably could not have overcome the broad spectrum of British imperial conservatism in any case.
If the Liberal-radical schism was not inevitable precisely when and as it occurred, it probably would have been so by the end of 1919 when the MontaguChelmsford Reforms were passed into law by Parliament. Another key factor was the repressive legal and military action taken in India by British authorities during the spring of 1919. The doses of “frightfulness” administered by the Rowlatt Act of March and the Amritsar (Panjab) massacre of April 1919 did not take full effect until 1920, when the official Hunter Report and the unofficial Congress report on martial law in the Panjab produced a public scandal, but rumor and recrimination had already taken their toll. The Liberals deplored British behavior in the Panjab, but were not willing to repudiate the Reform Act because of what they considered a secondary issue. The Congress radicals would make no such distinction, and the noncooperation movement launched under Gandhi’s auspices confirmed the schism between Congress and the Liberals.
The enactment of the Montagu-Chelmsford Reforms in 1919 gave the Indian Liberals their lead. They entered the new Legislatures of India in force in the elections of 1920 and began seeking two things: to make the Reforms succeed in the face of Congress opposition; and to prove correct their thesis that these Reforms, if constructively worked by both Indian legislators and British administrators, would advance India far toward full self-government. They were persisting in the intermediary role which they had been developing all along, trying to persuade the British that Indians were a loyal opposition and well prepared for self-government, and trying also to build Indian self -respect and prove that revolutionary upheaval was unnecessary as well as dangerous.
The Liberals had a brief honeymoon with the Government of India early in 1921, but by the end of the year divorce proceedings were well launched. When the Congress not only boycotted the reformed legislatures but proceeded from noncooperation to civil disobedience, the repressive policy adopted by the government put an increasing strain on official relations with the Liberals. The Liberals wished to discourage noncooperation but, ever the middlemen, objected equally to the government’s punitive ordinances and mass jailings.
As the noncooperation movement intensified late in 1921, the Liberals began to seek fresh ways to vindicate their cooperation with the British and demonstrate that revolution was unnecessary. This effort was accelerated when noncooperation collapsed early in 1922. They began to urge further constitutional reform, asking for an expanded Indian role in both provincial and central government. Their position was weakened, however, by their minority position in the legislatures, especially the central one, and by the fact that Liberal party discipline was plagued by a basic streak of Liberal individualism. Thus, they often divided when voting, and even when united they could count only on the influence of reason, not numbers. Meanwhile, the collapse of noncooperation gave British officials a renewed sense of control. Liberal pleas therefore received scant sympathy, especially after Montagu resigned as Secretary of State in March 1922.
The Liberal’s failure to secure further constitutional advance, together with their opposition to the noncooperation movement, contributed to the victory of the Swaraj (or “Freedom”) Party, an offshoot of the Congress, in the legislative elections of 1923. But these elections were not a complete disaster for the Liberals, as writers on the period have sometimes suggested. Most Liberal candidates were defeated, including the main leaders, but some were returned in both the Center and the provinces, while even some of the principal leaders regained seats through nomination. The Liberals had never been a majority in the legislatures, and they had in any case relied on their political experience, skill and prestige to achieve their main influence. However, their minority was now drastically reduced, with some of their best men unreturned. They could still be heard, but their prestige suffered a loss along with their numbers. It gradually became clear to them that much of their influence would depend during the 1924-1926 session on alliances with other interests in the legislatures. Still the intermediaries, but now as much by necessity as by choice, they began using their weight more selectively.
The Liberals’ influence during 1924-1926 depended largely on their relations with the other main parties in the central Legislative Assembly, including not only Motilal Nehru’s “Swarajists” but also M. A. Jinnah’s “Independents,” M. R. Jayakar’s “Responsivists,” and (in 1926) Madan Mohan Malaviya’s “Independent Congress Party.” The Liberals often voted with these other parties, though they usually went separate ways from the Swarajists on highly controversial issues. In general, however, they continued to occupy a slightly more oonservative position than the other avowedly nationalist parties. Not only did this keep the Liberals relatively ineffective as a group, hut it encouraged their younger and more progressive recruits to break out of line and move in more congenial company from time to time.
Here again, a basic weakness of the Liberals was the general absence of party discipline. They were individualists and would not abide bloc voting. The Swarajists in the central Legislative Assembly, however, always voted as a bloc. Liberal individualism even played into Swarajist hands. Crucial votes sometimes required the support of most nationalists in the Assembly due to the size of the combined official and nominee bloc, and the votes of “advanced” Liberals more than once decided a nationalist victory. This was especially true when the Swarajists took up the constitutional question, calling for a Round Table Conference to draft a Dominion constitution for India. Even the Swarajists, however, had difficulty getting their way. At first, in 1924, they got sufficient support from the Independents and the more advanced Liberals, but in 1925 they lost both Liberal and Independent support at a critical juncture during the Budget Debate; during the Budget Debate of 1926 they walked out of the Assembly rather than attempt another test of strength. By 1926, in any case, it was clear that even complete nationalist unity could not induce the British to yield on controversial issues.
both in the central and provincial legislatures. It was too early to consign them to oblivion.
Alliances and coalitions were now the best that any party could hope for. The Liberals, like their main potential allies, Jinnah’s Independents and Jayakar’s Responsivists, could not quite bring themselves to accept the de· gree of interdependence which an effective coalition would require. They continued to consider themselves the most respectable of all possible mediators between British and Indian interests, but the hard fact was that, standing alone, they remained practically powerless.
The year 1927 opened with a deadlock in the legislatures and an increasingly militant stand by the Liberals. If the British government wished to preserve the Liberal position as an independent force and perhaps a po· tential ally, it now needed to think in terms of conciliation. The decennial Statutory Commission, scheduled under the terms of the Indian Reform Act of 1919 to review the case for further Indian constitutional advance, could have provided a good vehicle for this. Instead, the British Conserva· tives, fearing that by 1929 the Cabinet might be lost to the Labour Party, rushed through the appointment of a “safe” Commission under Sir John Simon in 1927. The Indian Liberals urged in advance that the Statutory Commission have both British and Indian members, but the Conservatives paid no attention. When the Commission’s all-English composition was an· nounced, the Liberals were among the first to denounce it, call for an Indian boycott, and reiterate the Indian Legislative Assembly’ s demand of 1925 for a Round Table Conference to supplant it.
constitution and did not, contrary to Jawaharlal Nehru’s insistence, demand complete independence. The major success of the Conference from the Liberal viewpoint was that it, along with the boycott of the Simon Commission during 1928 and 1929, persuaded the new Labor Goverment of 1929 to offer India a Round Table Conference. Its failure from the Liberal viewpoint was twofold. First, the Congress made acceptance of Dominion status conditional on the Government’s enactment within one year of a constitution based on the Nehru Report. Second, the Conference secured no settlement of the rising communal dispute over the proportions of Muslim and Hindu representation in the provincial and central legislatures under a Dominion constitution.
The main trend of 1929 was the deepening crisis in which the British Government through its new Viceroy Lord Irwin offered a Round Table Conference but refused to offer more, while the Indian National Congress moved toward the noncooperation movement of 1930. Among the Liberals, Sapru in particular tried to avert the crisis by mediating between Congress leaders and the Viceroy. He ultimately failed, due to forces beyond his control, but he made a reputation as a free-lance negotiator. His other major crusade, next to the quest for a Dominion constitution, was for a settlement of the communal problem. In this also he would ultimately fail, but it remained true that in this sphere of negotiation the Liberal spirit of dedication to compromise was especially needed. Next to M. K. Gandhi, Sapru was probably the Indian leader most devoted to mediation in this cause.
It is ironic that Sapru’s pragmatic, individualistic approach to negotiation may have marked both the highest refinement and the worst vice in Indian Liberalism. On one hand, the time had passed when the Liberals had much power as an organized group. Little but influence as individuals remained to them, and in any case neither a party nor a group within a party could carry on negotiations as well as an individual. Indian Liberalism may therefore have achieved its climactic function in Sapru’s detached, studied role as a mediator. On the other hand, Sapru’s free-lance methods overlay an impatience with colleagues who differed with him. This led him ultimately to repudiate his formal connection with the National Liberal Federation of India and, in spite of continued informal collaboration with old colleagues, style himself a “non-party politician.” Thus his individualism became a contribution in its own way to the Liberal weakness as a party, which we have already noted as a prime cause of declining Liberal fortunes since 1915. In either case, for better or worse, Sapru’s variation on the Liberal intermediary role was to exert the greatest influence left to Indian Liberalism from 1929 onward.
The year 1930 began with the launching of the second great noncooperation movement by Gandhi and the Indian National Congress. Yet the Indian Liberals fixed their hopes on the first official Round Table Conference scheduled for the fall of the year. The Congress had rejected Dominion status because it had not been granted in 1929, but the Liberals were satisfied that the British government had promised it as the ultimate goal and had not foreclosed the possibility of its being pursued at the Round Table Conference. To be sure, the specter of communalism had become a threat to any constitutional settlement which did not assure rigorous protection to Muslims and other minorities in India. It was also true that the Labour Government which had opened the subject of Dominion self-goverment for India was in a weak position in British politics and might soon yield to an uneasy coalition with the Conservatives, if not worse. The Indian Liberals, however, could not afford to hesitate; their organization had to send its best men to London and grapple with the odds.
A number of Liberals attended the first Round Table Conference (November 1930 to January 1931) . Sapru, ably seconded by V. S. Srinivasa Sastri, made it his task to rally the Indian Princes to the idea of an all-India federal union, recognizing that Dominion status would be a frail thing unless it embraced both the British Indian provinces and the princely Indian States. Sapru and Sastri likewise attacked the communal issue, working primarily through M. A. Jinnah. The two Liberals’ ultimate object was to secure a constitutional agreement, provisional if not final, on the basis of which the Congress might suspend noncooperation and renew negotiations with the British government. The Liberal representatives did have qualified success. The British representatives and the leading Princes were persuaded, largely by the maneuvering of Sapru and Sastri, to accept federation in principle, though matters of detail remained unsettled. Also, Ramsay MacDonald agreed on behalf of the Labour Cabinet to increase British efforts toward a truce with the Congress in lndia.
Yet nothing was permanently settled, and the communal negotiations had become deadlocked. Sapru had difficulty getting other Liberals such as C.Y. Chintamani and C. H. Setalvad to join in a conciliatory approach to either the Princes or the Muslims. It is clear, however, that princely and Muslim demands were being pitched so high as to make ultimate agreement unlikely. When Sapru publicized his estrangement from most other Liberals at the conference by announcing his withdrawal from their ranks, it served as a milepost in their continuing decline as an organization, and it weakened not only the Liberal Party’s position but, ultimately, Sapru’s.
Both Sapru and the other Liberals were determined, in spite of their internecine troubles, to use the positive results of the conference to bring together the Government of India and the Congress radicals. Returning to India, Sapru and Sastri hurried to act as intermediaries between Lord Irwin, the Viceroy, on one hand and imprisoned Congressmen, but especially Gandhi, on the other. Irwin’s magnanimity in releasing Congress leaders and the amenability of Gandhi to negotiation were no doubt the principal factors in the Irwin-Gandhi pact of March 1931 and in the uneasy truce which led to Congress participation in the second Round Table Conference. However, Sapru and Sastriperhaps Sastri more than Sapru-must be given credit for easing Gandhi’s initial and recurrent doubts about the negotiations; the two Liberals acted as a buffer against the provocative attitude of Jawaharlal Nehru and other Congress radicals.
The Round Table Conference of September-December 1931 might be expected to have begun with hopeful prospects. It was in fact doomed from the first by factors which were the responsibility of every party to it. The advent of a Labour-Conservative coalition Cabinet brought into the field a conservative Secretary of State for India, Sir Samuel Hoare, who had no sympathy for India. The deepening worldwide financial crisis of the depression years made all Britons cautious about political change anywhere in the Empire-Commonwealth. Sir Samuel Hoare increased the proportions of conservative Princes and communalist Muslims in the Round Table Conference, thereby increasing the odds against either a federal or a communal settlement. Not only Muslim but also Sikh, Untouchable and even Indian Christian leaders increased their demands for legislative representation and balked at settlement of any constitutional issue which affected their demands adversely. The Congress made Gandhi its sole plenipotentiary, despite the antagonisms he was known to arouse in both Britons and Indian minority representatives. The Indian Liberals and their ally Sapru were themselves divided over the extent to whioh princely and Indian minority demands should be accepted. Despite Liberal negotiations with all factions, the result was failure. Neither the maneuvers of a Sapru nor the eloquence of a Sastri could bring together an intransigent government, a provocative Gandhi, or a bickering array of communal spokesmen. The second Round Table Conference ended in a deadlock.
Renewed noncooperation and official repressive actions created an atmosphere in which the British government felt safe to abandon the Round Table Conference “method” of constitution-making for a more one-sided Joint Committee of Parliament. When Sapru led the Liberals in announcing a boycott of the new approach, however, it was enough to persuade the British Cabinet to convene a third Round Table Conference in the fall of 1932. The number of Liberals invited, however, was reduced as a mark of official displeasure, and the proportion of princely and communal conservatives was enlarged. Sapru, still a Liberal in viewpoint, led the nationalist fight as usual, but got nothing beyond polite tolerance from the now solidly entrenched British Conservatives. The final report of the conference, anticipating the British Government’s “White Paper” of 1933 and the Reform Act of 1935, was a far cry from Dominion self-government or even a viable federal union. Its terms were a mockery of the constitutional goals for which the Indian Liberals had spent three years pleading and maneuvering. The Liberals had weakened their own hand by division, but the forces of revolution and reaction around them were far more important in producing their failure.
The position of the Indian Liberals as mediators reached a new low in 1933, leaving a disillusioned fragment of the old Liberal Party which talked fitfully of disbanding altogether. It remained only for Sapru and a fraction of the remaining Liberals to exert what limited efforts their individual prestige allowed them. They would now have to accept unquestionably the individualist motif of their intermediary role, which Sapru had already developed by 1930.
The Liberal Party did not dissolve itself but struggled on, meeting in formal session almost every year up to 1945; thereafter its executive council met from time to time. As a party, however, the Liberals had lost all their influence. This was demonstrated by the elections of 1936 under the Reform Act of 1935, which gave Indians the opportunity at least of erecting cabinet-style governments in the British-Indian provinces. The Liberal Party contested the elections, but the Congress dominated the polls almost everywhere. Most of the Liberals then fumed on the sidelines until the Congress ministries resigned in 1939.
of Indians in the war effort of those years, did Sapru seize a chance to renew Liberal-style influence. In 1941 he convened a “Non-Party Conference” made up of individuals representing most Indian interests except the Congress, the Muslim League and the Communists. This conference appealed to the British Cabinet to give India an all-Indian wartime cabinet as a preliminary to a Dominion constitution after the war. The British Government under Churchill would only promise postwar Dominion status. To this compromise offer, conveyed by the “Cripps Mission” of 1942, the answer of the Congress to Britain was “Quit India!” Sapru’s three Non-Party Conference sessions of 1941-42 were received with scorn from the Congress, the Muslim League and the British Government alike, and the constitutional proposals published by a subcommittee of the conference in 1945 received scant attention.
The three major antagonists of the times were locked in a struggle of grave dimensions and would brook mediation by none but their own representatives. In such a situation the small party and the lone individual could have no hope of influence unless they attached themselves to one of the major parties. This the Liberals both individually and collectively had always refused to do, and they would not do so now. In these circumstances the National Liberal Federation of India clearly had no future, and its session of 1945 proved to be the last. It was ironic that after so many years of effort, the Liberals played no effective part in the final negotiation of India’s independence.
to 1918, and beyond to 1947, the Liberals also were never able to escape their dilemma as middlemen between the opposing forces of radical nationalism and conservative imperialism.
During the stormy years from 1918 into the 1920s, the Liberals kept trying to vindicate their constitutionalist, reform-oriented position as a correct balance of British and Indian interests. With the Indian National CongTess boycotting the Reform Act of 1919 during its early trials of 1920-1923, and with British officialdom resisting every challenge to its authority, failure stalked Indian Liberal efforts. As a group their fortunes sank, while increasingly they found that their voices counted only when coming from individuals among them whose reputation as mediators suited a particular moment or circumstance.
Even after their humiliating defeat by the Congress-bred Swarajists in 1923, the Liberals sought to preserve a middle-road alternative which might find alliances among other independent parties. No party could agree to a permanent alliance, however, and much less to a merger. Unwilling as the Liberals were to lose their separate identity and independence of judgment, they consequently had to accept a permanent minority position. This in turn made it increasingly clear that the Liberals could exert influence only through their habitual skills in persuasive argument as well as legislation and administration. Once they accepted this limitation, however, they were in some ways more free than ever to play the role of mediator-of “disinterested” negotiator. They could make a virtue of necessity. Having discovered this, a few Liberals began to enjoy, pursue and refine mediation as an individual role.
As a result, the principal development in Liberal affairs during the 1920s was the full-fledged emergence of negotiation by individual Liberals, notably Tej Bahadur Sapru, as the dominant and active feature of the Liberal intermediary position. After 1927 individual mediation became perhaps the quintessence, the ultimate refinement, of the Indian Liberal method. On the other hand, it might be said that it marked the nadir of Liberal influence as a political party, for only when the party had lost any ability to challenge other parties at the polls could its leaders present to others the credentials of men with nothing to gain from the position of mediator.
The new role also marked an essential weakness of the Liberals as a group almost from the beginning of their history. Their strain of individualism not only weakened party discipline but was capable of breaking across party lines altogether. Sapru is the supreme example, though not the only one, of a tendency to disregard the party when he could not persuade it to follow his lead. One can argue indeed that the lone mediator like Sapru ended in as powerless a position ‘as his party, whether he formally dissociated himself from the party or not. The representatives of the interests between which he was trying to negotiate might still demand ultimately that he present his “credentials.” They could reject him as a mediator because he lacked the backing of a large unified party with significant p-0pular support.
The failure of Liberal efforts to get a really advanced set of constitutional reforms for India, or to bring about a lasting truce between either the Congress and the British government or the Hindus and the Muslims, demonstrated this basic problem of the Liberals both as a group and as individuals. They lacked the sanctions which the backing of numbers alone could provide. They could reason and cajole all they might, whether collectively or individually, but they could nevertheless be ignored with impunity by the major parties to the disputes which they attempted to mediate. The Round Table Conferences demonstrated that they could not persuade any of the major combatants-government, Congress or Muslim League-to take them seriously. They remained staunch individualists pursuing a lonely course, in the conviction-not without some justification- that the extremists around them were locked in a vicious circle of rule-or-ruin. It was conclusively proved in the early 1940s that the influence of Liberals as active intermediaries had come to an end, whatever the validity of their positions might be. Like old soldiers, they faded away.
The Indian Liberals can be credited with having had the courage to persevere in an unpopular position and the honest desire to avoid extremes that assume only one’s own position to be the true one. They understood that to condemn as a mere tissue of falsehoods or injustices the character of a competing individual, party or system tends only to destroy good and bad institutions indiscriminately, while it also inhibits constructive alternatives to the series of events thus started on this violent course. They prophesied that Indian respect for constituted authority, legal processes and public order in general would be weakened and would be difficult to recreate after independence.
On the more positive side, the Liberals helped to keep in motion the wheels of nascent Indian parliamentary democracy when these might otherwise have ground to a halt. If the Liberals had not entered the legislatures in 1921, the British might have been aggravated by Congress tactics into either invoking emergency powers and operating as a simple autocracy or else packing the legislatures with an entirely loyalist body of landlords, businessmen, Princes and minority communities.
The Liberals appear to have contributed to the confidence of British officials both in India and England, especially during the noncooperation movements, that further constitutional advance along the main lines established in 1919 would secure sufficient Indian allegiance to preserve not only Britain’s rule but her honor. If the British could at least say in 1947, and with pride, that they had instructed India in the political system it was about to adopt, the Indian Liberals could assert with equal pride that they more than any other group of Indians had sought this instruction, pursued its goal and advertised its prospective benefits. The present Indian Constitution is as much their memorial as other men’s victory.
 Useful studies of Indian Liberalism in general and especially to 1918 include Maganlal A. Buch, Rise and Growth of Indian Liberalism (Baroda: n.p., 1938); Krishna M. V. Rao, The Growth of Indian Liberalism in the Nineteenth Century (Mysore: H. Venkataramiah ); and B. D. Shukla, A History of the Indian Liberal Party (Allahabad: The Indian Press (Publications) Private Ltd., 1960).
 The transition in terminology and the arguments supporting it can be found in the Report of the Proceedings of the Second Session of the All-India Conference of the Moderate Party, Held at the Town Hall, Calcutta, on the 30th and 31st December, 1919, and 1st January, 1920 [Calcutta, 1920], pp. 105-16.
 This close connection between the ideas of “liberalism” and “moderation” was featured in Mahadev Govind Ranade’s manifesto for the Deccan Sabha of Poona in 1896. Ranade was quoted in 1918 by V. S. Srinivasa Sastri in dedicating the first issue of his newspaper The Servant of India, and quoted again as late as 1941 by another key Liberal, P. S. Sivaswamy Aiyar. See The Servant of India (Poona), February 19, 1918, p. 4; and A Great Liberal: Speeches and Writings of Sir P. S. Sivaswami Aiyar, ed. By K. A. Nilakanta Sastri (Bombay: Allied Publishers Private Limited, 1965), pp. 781-83.
 See Bruce Tiebout McCully, English Education and the Origins of Indian Nationalism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1940), pp. 217-32, 284-85. Typical Indian Liberal references to British Liberal support can be found in Surendranath Banerjea, A Nation in Making (Bombay: Oxford University Press, 1963), pp. 101-07, 251-54; also C. Y. Chintamani, Indian Politics Since the M utiny (London: George Allen and Unwin, Ltd., 1940), pp. 54-56, 75-76; and Amvika Charan Mazumdar. Indian National Evolution (2d ed.; Madras: G. A. Natesan and Co., 1917), pp. 8-19.
 See, for example, B. Pattabhi Sitaramayya, The History of the Indian National Congress, I (Bombay: Padma Publications, 1946), pp. H-19; S. R. Mehrotra, India and the Commonwealth, 1885-1929, School of Oriental and African Studies, Studies on Modern Asia and Africa, No. 5 (London: George Allen and Unwin, Ltd., 1965), pp. 15-33.
 ‘See Banerjea, op. cit., pp. 289-91, 296-97; Chintamani, op. cit., pp. 83-84; R. P. Masani, Dadabhai Naoroji: The Grand Old Man of India (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1939), pp. 426-42, 499-502; Speeches of Gopal Krishna Gokhale (3rd ed.; Madras: G. A. Natesan and Co., 1920), pp. 698, 708-09, 714-21; Speeches and Writings of the Rt. Hon. V. S. Srinivasa Sastri, P. C. (Madras: G. A. Natesan and Co., 1924), pp. 3-7, 10-17, 68-70.
 See, for example, Bal Gangadhar Tilak: His Writings and Speeches (Madras: Ganesh & Co., n.d.), pp. 12-20, 39-44; All About Lok. Tilak (Madras: V. Ramaswamy Sastrulu & Sons, 1922), pp. 505-06, 512-13, 516-17, 526-27; Bipinchandra Pal, Writings and Speeches, I (Calcutta: Yugayatri Prakashak Ltd., 1958), pp. 25-41; Haridas Mukherjee and Uma Mukherjee, Sri Aurobindo’s Political Thought, 1893-1908 (Calcutta: K. L. Mukhopadhyay, 1958), pp. 86-91, 95, 127-30, 146-51; Lala Lajpat Rai: The Man in His Word (Madras: Ganesh & Co., 1907), pp. 202-20.
 See, for instance, India, Minto and Morley, 1900-1910, comp. by Mary, Countess of Minto (London: MacMillan & Co., Ltd., 1935), pp. 29, 99-100, 150, 161-62, 165, and 416-17; Edwin S. Montagu, An Indian Diary (London: William Heinemann, Ltd., 1930), pp. 7-14, 42-43, 47-48, 55, 102-04, 133-34, 362.
 lndia Office Library, Morley Papers, MSS. Eur. D. 573/I, Morley to Minto, August 2, 1906; MSS. Eur. D. 573/II, Morley to Minto, November 29 and December 26-27, 1907; MSS. Eur. D. 573/III, Morley to Minto, June 4, November 12, and December 4, 1908; MSS. Eur. D. 573/IV, Morley to Minto, February 11, and October 14, 1909.
 An adequate review of the “Surat split,” unsympathetic to the Liberals but not grossly unfair, can be found in R. C. Majumdar, History of the Freedom Movement in India (Calcutta: Firma K. L. Mukhopadhyay, 1963), II, pp. 153-60, 198-214, 328-30. For a Liberal view, see Mazumdar, op. cit., pp. 99-120.
 0n the Congress reunion see, e.g., Annie Besant, The Future of Indian Politics (Adyar: Theosophical Publishing House, 1922), pp. 68-84, 98-107; Majumdar, op. cit., pp. 353-60. Liberal support of the “Congress League Scheme” is reflected in Speeches and Writings of . . . Srinivasa Sastri, pp. 71-74, 84-89.
 The Leader (Allahabad), October 1, 1917, pp. 5, 8; October 4, p. 8; October 6, p. 4; October 10, p. 8; Deccan Sabha, Poona, Correspondence File (compiled November 12, 1963), letter from P. C. Ray to several Congressmen, November 10, 1917.
 lndia Office Library, Montagu Papers, MSS. Eur. D. 523/41, Indian Diary, Appendix, pp. 1-13. For Montagu’s Statement in Parliament see Great Britain, Parliament, 5 Parliamentary Debates (Commons), XCVII (1917), 1694-95. Montagu had shown his sympathy for Indian Liberal aspirations as Under-Secretary of State for India during 1912- 13. See Speeches on Indian Questions by Rt. Hon’ble Mr. Montagu (Madras: G. A. Natesan & Co., n.d.), pp. 26-29, 108-11, 159-60, 201-04.
 Montagu Papers, MSS. Eur. D. 523/41, Indian Diary, Appendix, pp. 108-10, 435-42, 449. See also Montagu, An Indian Diary, pp. 91, 104, 122-23, 133-34, 216-17, 274, 279, 308-11, 313, 322, 325, 334, 336-37, and 373. The shift of Liberal opinion was marked in such Liberal organs as The Servant of India, February 19, 1918, p. 4; March 21, 1918, p.52.
 The Servant of India, March 21, 1918, p. 52; April 11, pp. 89-91. Commonweal(Madras), April 26, 1918, p. 230; May 24, p. 294; May 31, pp. 309-10. The Leader, June 14, 1918, p. 5; June 29, p. 4.
 The Bengalee (Calcutta), July 4, 1918, p. 3; July 13, p. 3; July 17, p. 3. The Leader, July 4, 1918, p. 7; July 11, p. 4; July 17, p. 3; July 20, p. 3.
 Deccan Sabha, Poona, Correspondence File (November 12, 1963), circular letter dated August 13, 1918. The Bengalee, August 11, 1918, p. 4; August 13, p. 4. The Leader, August 14, pp. 3 and 5; August 24, p. 7; August 25, pp. 4 and 5; August 26, p. 2. The Servant of India, August 22, 1918, pp. 314-15.
 19For a Liberal move anticipating the Moderates’ Conference, see India, Imperial Legislative Council, Proceedings, LVII, 1918-19, pp. 93-154. See also: Report of the Special Session of the Indian National Congress, Bombay, 1918, pp. 92-94, 98-99; Proceedings of the All-India Moderates’ Conference, First Session, Bombay, 1918, pp. 1, 18-51, 63-74, 98-108, 125-32.
 Report of the Thirty-third Session of the Indian National Congress, 1918, pp. 64-92. V. S. Srinivasa Sastri led the few Liberals who seriously attempted reconciliation. See, e.g., The Servant of India, November 7, 1918, p. 441; December 19, pp. 509-10, 513; also, letters from Sastri to H. G. Limaye, November 11, 1918, and to S. G. Vaze, November 26, 1918, in Sastri MSS, National Archives of India, fol., 1918-19.
 See, e.g., Proceedings, National Liberal Federation of India, Fourth Session, Alla· habad, December 28-30, 1921, pp. i-ii, 1-30.
 India, Legislative Assembly Debates, II, September, 1921, pp. 956, 1228-33, 1247-86; III, Part 2, January-February, 1923, pp. 1413-14; III, Part 3, February-March, 1923, pp. 2715-36. Proceedings, National Liberal Federation of India, Fifth Session, Nagpur, December 27-29, 1922, pp. 19-49.
 The Leader, November 19, 1923, p. 3; December 15, p. 3; December 28, p. 3. R. P. Paranjpye, Eighty-Four, Not Out (“A National Trust Book”; Delhi: The Publications Division, 1961), pp. 88-89. Setalvad, op. cit., pp. 255-57.
 See, e.g., India, Legislative Assembly Debates, N, Part l, January-February, 1924, pp. 221, 548, 609-20, 755-68; Parts 2 and 3, February-March, 1924, pp. 1376-1430, 1443-44, 1915-60. For a key statement on the discipline dilemma, see T. N. Jagadisan (ed.), Letters of the Right Honourable V. S. Srinivasa Sastri, P. C., C. H., LL.D., D.Litt. (2d ed.; New York: Asia Publishing House, 1963), pp. 117-19.
 The Leader, November 24, 1926, p. 5; December 1, p. 3; December 3, p. 3; December 6, p. 3; December 12, p. 5.
 The Leader, November 10, 1927, pp. 9 and 10; November 11, pp. 8-11; November 19, p. 9; November 25, p. 8.
 The Leader, July 18, 1927, p. 4; July 21, p. 3; November 23, p. 9; November 24, p. 9; November 26, p. 8. The Bengalee, December 10, 1927, p. 4; December 14, p. 5; January 3, 1928, pp. 4-6; January 5, p. 5. Proceedings, National Liberal Federation of India, Tenth Session, December, 1927, pp. 9-34, 80-83.
 All Parties Conference, 1928, Report of the Committee appointed by the Conference to determine the Principle of the Constitution for India (Allahabad: General Secretary, All India Congress Committee  ), pp. 19·55, 100·24. The Proceedings of the All Parties National Convention (Allahabad: Rafi Ahmad Kidwai, Secretary, All Parties National Convention  ), pp. 73-95.
 National Library of India, Calcutta, Sapru MSS, Vol. 9, I. 10-I. 19, correspondence between Sapru and Lord Irwin, November-December, 1929; Vol. 16, N. 40-N. 41, Sapru to Motilal Nehru, December, 1929; Vol. 17, P. 11-P. 19, correspondence between Sapru and V. J. Patel. November-December, 1929; fol. J (1963), correspondence between M. A. Jinnah and Sapru, December 3, 5, 14, and 19, 1929.
 Great Britain, Indian Round Table Conference, 12th November, 1930-19th January, 1931. Proceedings (Calcutta: Government of India Central Publications Branch, 1931), pp. 24-74, 100-119, 141-42, 236-51, 276-78, 399-428, 445-84. See also the reports of Subcommittees I, II, and III.
 Sapru MSS, Vol. 14, S. 131, letter from Sapru to C. H. Setalvad, November 29, 1930. The Leader, December 7, 1930, p. 9. Letters of . . . Srinivasa Sastri, pp. 195, 198-206.
 Ibid., pp. 207-12. Sapru MSS, Vol. 9, I. 64, I. 68, I. 69, and I. 71, correspondence between Sapru and Lord Irwin, February-March, 1931; Vol. 24, S. 174, S. 175, and S. 178, Sapru to Mahara ja of Bikanir, February II, March 10, and June 2, 1931.
 Great Britain, Indian Round Table Conference (Second Session), 7th September, 1931-l st December, 1931, Proceedings of the Plenary Session (Calcutta: Government of India Central Publications Branch, 1932), pp. 7-10, 306-07, 407-22. See also The Leader, October 5, 1931, p. 9; October 7, p. 9; October 9, pp. 9-10; October 10, p. 9; Letters of . . . Srinivasa Sastri, pp. 218-22.
 Sapru MSS, Vol. 23, S. 7/6, letter from Sapru and M. R. Jayakar to Lord Sankey, June 19, 1932; Vol. 27, W. 35-W. 37, correspondence between Sapru and Viceroy (Lord Willingdon) during June-July, 1932; Vol. 9, I. 77, letter from Sapru to Lord Irwin. July 10, 1932; Vol. 8, H. 225, letter from Sapru to Sir Samuel Hoare, December 19, 1932. The Bengalee, July 1, 1932, pp. 2 and 4; July 6, p. 1; July 10, pp. 1 and 2. Great Britain, Indian Round Table Conference ( Third Session), 17th November, 1932-24th December, 1932 (London: H.M.S.O., 1933), pp. 6-47, 55-57, 63-87, 137-52.
 The reports of the Liberal Federation’s annual sessions tended to force a positive note, appealing alternately to British and Indian statesmanship. Private assessments, whether of politics at large or the future of the Liberals, were more somber. See, e.g., Proceedings, National Liberal Federation of India, Nineteenth Session, Calcutta, December 29-31, 1937, pp. 1-5, 16-22, 27-28, 41-44; Sastri MSS, Servants of India Society, Madras, letter from C. Y. Chintamani to Sastri, September 18, 1937; correspondence between Sastri and C. H. Setalvad, November 18 and 29, 1938.
 Non-Party Conference sessions were held on March 13-14, 1941, July 26-27, 1941, and February 21-22, 1942. See The Non-Party Political Conference. A National Government; Answers to Criticism. Statements issued by the President and the Standing Committee of the Non-Party Political Conference, and other pa pers (Allahabad: K. Ishwara Dutt, 194·1); also Constitutional Proposals of the Sapru Committee, comp. by Sir Tej Bahadur Sapru, et al. (Bombay: Padma Publications, 1945), pp. 157-62, 175-77.
« Liberalism is the ONLY revolutionary ideology. All others are reactionary.

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§ 5-4 Election of members.
§ 5-5 Persons not eligible for membership.
§ 5-6 Terms of members; vacancies.
§ 5-7 Oath of members.
§ 5-8 Compensation of members.
§ 5-9 Election of presiding officer.
§ 5-10 Designation of Clerk.
§ 5-11 Powers and duties.
§ 5-12 Effect on powers and duties of Town Clerk.
§ 5-15 Composition and terms; compensation.
§ 5-17 Meetings; election of officers; adoption of rules.
§ 5-19 Composition; appointment of members.
§ 5-20 Qualifications of members.
§ 5-21 Terms of members.
§ 5-23 Compensation of members.
§ 5-24 Election and terms of officers.
§ 5-26 Adoption of rules for transaction of business; records.
§ 5-27 Duty to recommend personnel rules and regulations.
§ 5-28 Submission of recommendations to Manager and Council.
§ 5-30 Timing of appointments.
§ 5-31 Removal or suspension.
Commissions — See Ch. 15.
Personnel — See Ch. 51.

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acuticeps, Auchenoglanis Pappenheim [P.] in Pappenheim & Boulenger 1914:249, Pl. 5 (fig. 1) [Wissenschaftliche Ergebnisse der Deutschen Zentral-Afrika Expedition, 1907-1908 v. 5 (Zool. 3); ref. 18518] Lake Albert [Lake Albert Nyanza]. Lectotype: ZMB 19094. Paralectotypes: ZMB 21317 (3). Type catalog: Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155]. Lectotype selected by Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3007 [ref. 36399]. •Valid as Auchenoglanis acuticeps Pappenheim 1914 -- (Retzer 2010:29 [ref. 31026], Okwiri et al. 2018:123 [ref. 36031]). •Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840) -- (Risch 1986:7 [ref. 6190], Teugels et al. 1991:511 [ref. 19030], Seegers 1996:179 [ref. 23725], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155], Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3002 [ref. 36399]). Current status: Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840). Claroteidae: Auchenoglanidinae. Habitat: freshwater.
biscutatus, Pimelodus Geoffroy St. Hilaire [E.] 1809:, Pl. 14 (figs. 1-2) [Poissons du Nil v. 1 (part 1); ref. 4182] Nile River, Egypt. Holotype: MNHN A-8969. Type catalog: Bertin & Estève 1950:30 [ref. 19575], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155]. The page number is from a different edition. •Valid as Auchenoglanis biscutatus (Geoffroy St. Hilaire 1809) -- (Risch 1986:3 [ref. 6190], Burgess 1989:71 [ref. 12860], Teugels et al. 1991:511 [ref. 19030], Mo 1991:157 [ref. 19952], Risch in Lévêque et al. 1992:421 [ref. 21590], Geerinckx et al. 2003:24 [ref. 27023], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155], Retzer 2010:40 [ref. 31026], Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3000 [ref. 36399], Neumann et al. 2016:305 [ref. 35036], Okwiri et al. 2018:123 [ref. 36031]). Current status: Valid as Auchenoglanis biscutatus (Geoffroy St. Hilaire 1809). Claroteidae: Auchenoglanidinae. Distribution: West African rivers from Senegal to Chad basins, and more east in the Nile and Lake Turkana basins, Africa. Habitat: freshwater.
occidentalis, Pimelodus Valenciennes [A.] in Cuvier & Valenciennes 1840:203 [Histoire naturelle des poissons v. 15; ref. 1008] Senegal. Holotype (unique): MNHN A-8971 (poor condiditon). Type catalog: Bertin & Estève 1950:30 [ref. 19575], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155]. •Valid as Pimelodus occidentalis Valenciennes 1840 -- (Teugels et al. 1991:511 [ref. 19030]). •Valid as Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840) -- (Bailey & Stewart 1984:39 [ref. 5232], Risch 1986:5 [ref. 6190], Burgess 1989:71 [ref. 12860], Lévêque et al. 1989:118 [ref. 26480], Paugy et al. 1990:339 [ref. 26477], Mo 1991:157 [ref. 19952], Risch in Lévêque et al. 1992:422 [ref. 21590], Seegers 1996:179 [ref. 23725], Dankwa et al. 1999:34 [ref. 28023], De Vos et al. 2001:130, 131 [ref. 26059], Geerinckx et al. 2003:24 [ref. 27023], Seegers et al. 2003:36 [ref. 28087], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155], Geerinckx et al. 2007:593 [ref. 30028], Retzer 2010:44 [ref. 31026], Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3002 [ref. 36399], Neumann et al. 2016:305 [ref. 35036], Okwiri et al. 2018:123 [ref. 36031]). Current status: Valid as Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840). Claroteidae: Auchenoglanidinae. Distribution: West African rivers from the Senegal River to the Cross and Chad basins, Congo basin including Lakes Mweru and Tanganyika, upper Nile River basin and Lake Turkana, Africa. Habitat: freshwater.
sacchii, Oxyglanis Vinciguerra [D.] 1898:250  [Annali del Museo Civico di Storia Naturale di Genova (Serie 2) v. 19 [vol. 39 in sequence]; ref. 4522] Omo River at Murzú, Ethiopia. Holotype (unique): MSNG 14506. Type catalog: Tortonese 1963:307 [ref. 10351], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155]. Page 11 of separate. •Valid as Auchenoglanis sacchii (Vinciguerra 1898) -- (Retzer 2010:46 [ref. 31026], Okwiri et al. 2018:123 [ref. 36031]). •Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840) -- (Risch 1986:5 [ref. 6190], Teugels et al. 1991:511 [ref. 19030], Seegers 1996:179 [ref. 23725], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155], Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3002 [ref. 36399]). Current status: Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840). Claroteidae: Auchenoglanidinae. Habitat: freshwater.
senegali, Auchenoglanis Retzer [M. E.] 2010:47, Figs. 8, 9, 10 [Zootaxa No. 2655; ref. 31026] Saint-Louis, Forom River, Camp Djoudj, 16°22'N, 16°16'W, Senegal. Holotype: MRAC P-79002.211. Paratypes: INHS 102910 [Ex MRAC P-79002.215] (1); MRAC P-79002-212-214 (3), P-80001-0099 (1), P-810003-0381 (1). •Synonym of Auchenoglanis biscutatus (Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire 1809) -- (Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3000 [ref. 36399]). Current status: Synonym of Auchenoglanis biscutatus (Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire 1809). Claroteidae: Auchenoglanidinae. Habitat: freshwater.
tanganicanus, Auchenoglanis occidentalis var. Boulenger [G. A.] 1906:553, Pl. 33 [Transactions of the Zoological Society of London v. 17 (pt 6, no. 1); ref. 573] Kalambo, Lake Tanganyika. Lectotype: BMNH 1906.9.6.37-38 [largest]. Paralectotypes: BMNH 1906.9.6.37-38 (1), 1906.9.6.39 (1), 1906.9.8.69 (1). Lectotype selected by Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3007 [ref. 36399]. •Valid as Auchenoglanis tanganicanus Boulenger 1906 -- (Retzer 2010:37 [ref. 31026], Kullander & Roberts 2012:361 [ref. 31751]). •Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840) -- (Risch 1986:7 [ref. 6190], Teugels et al. 1991:511 [ref. 19030], Risch in Lévêque et al. 1992:422 [ref. 21590], Seegers 1996:179 [ref. 23725], Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3002 [ref. 36399]). Current status: Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840). Claroteidae: Auchenoglanidinae. Habitat: freshwater.
tchadiensis, Auchenoglanis occidentalis var. Pellegrin [J.] 1909:244 [Bulletin du Muséum National d'Histoire Naturelle (Série 1) v. 15 (no. 5); ref. 14408] Lake Chad at Bol, Chad. Lectotype: MNHN 1909-425 [largest]. Paralectotypes: MNHN 1909-0425 (2) and 1909 -0426 (4). Type catalog: Bertin & Estève 1950:31 [ref. 19575], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155]. Misspelled tchadensis in literature. Lectotype selected by Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3007 [ref. 36399]. •Valid as Auchenoglanis tchadiensis Pellegrin 1909 -- (Retzer 2010:38 [ref. 31026]). •Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840) -- (Risch 1986:7 [ref. 6190], Teugels et al. 1991:511 [ref. 19030], Risch in Lévêque et al. 1992:422 [ref. 21590], Seegers 1996:179 [ref. 23725], Ferraris 2007:154 [ref. 29155], Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3002 [ref. 36399]). Current status: Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840). Claroteidae: Auchenoglanidinae. Habitat: freshwater.
wittei, Auchenoglanis Giltay [L.] 1930:92, Figs. 1-2 [Revue de Zoologie et de Botanique Africaines v. 19 (no. 1); ref. 16085] Kisangani, Democratic Republic of Congo. Holotype: MRAC 19802. Paratypes: IRSNB 35 (1), MRAC 19803 (1). Type catalog: Walschaerts 1987:14 [ref. 20755]. •Valid as Auchenoglanis wittei Giltay 1930 -- (Retzer 2010:34 [ref. 31026], Kullander & Roberts 2012:361, 369 [ref. 31751]). •Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840) -- (Risch 1986:7 [ref. 6190], Teugels et al. 1991:511 [ref. 19030], Seegers 1996:179 [ref. 23725], Geerinckx & Vreven 2013:3002 [ref. 36399]). Current status: Synonym of Auchenoglanis occidentalis (Valenciennes 1840). Claroteidae: Auchenoglanidinae. Habitat: freshwater.

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1.1 How important is freedom of expression and its corollary, media freedom?
Freedom of expression is a cornerstone upon which the very existence of a democratic society rests. It is indispensable for the formation of public opinion … It represents, in short, the means that enable the community, when exercising its options, to be sufficiently informed. Consequently, it can be said that a society that is not well informed is not a society that is truly free.
Freedom of expression is closely bound up with the democratic process. It serves not only as a means and an instrument but also as an aim in itself. Freedom of expression is a superior right which, together with the similar right to freedom of conscience, constitutes the prerequisite to the realization of almost all other freedoms. The supreme value contained in freedom of expression remains permanent and unalterable.
Freedom of thought and speech ... is the matrix, the indispensable condition of nearly every other form of freedom.
1.2 What are the purposes that freedom of expression is intended to serve?
(d) to provide a mechanism which will establish a reasonable balance between stability and social change in society.
1.3 How far can the claims for free speech be carried by journalists?
Journalists can, and do, make strong claims for a maximalist view of free speech, which is understandable but slightly misplaced. There is a widespread consensus that freedom of expression, like all other freedoms, cannot be absolute. It has to be balanced against other equally legitimate interests in society, such as upholding public order, safeguarding national security, protecting the reputation of others, preserving the authority of the courts, and so on. For those reasons, every society imposes certain restrictions on free speech and makes its exercise conditional on the requisite degree of responsibility being shown by its practitioners.
1.4 How does the law deal with freedom of expression?
There is considerable variation in this area. For a start, every sovereign nation has the right to put in place its own arrangements, which includes laws, law-enforcement mechanisms and conventions, for the protection and promotion of free speech. Secondly, attitudes towards free speech are often governed by the history of a country or by its religious or cultural ethos. Some countries are, therefore, more liberal than others. Even within countries, there might be differences in the manner in which freedom of expression may be given effect to. For example, there may be local laws, based on particular circumstances, which require free speech to be regulated to a lesser or greater extent than in the rest of the country to take into account local sensitivities. Furthermore, even an otherwise liberal society may tighten restrictions on free speech for particular periods to deal with serious emergencies which threaten public tranquillity or the security of the nation.
Generally speaking, constitutional provisions on freedom of expression lay down broad principles. They underline the importance of free speech, declare freedom of expression as a basic right, and prescribe the grounds on which this right can be restricted. It is then left to more specific laws, usually passed by the legislature, to describe in greater detail the circumstances and manner in which, and the extent to which, the restrictions can be placed. Finally, the actual imposition of the restrictions is put within the domain of administrative orders, passed in most cases either by government ministers or by local officials such as commissioners of police or magistrates.
1.5 What are the legal best practices in this area?
3. The restriction must be authorised by law (and not imposed by executive fiat).
Likewise, the European Court of Human Rights has held that any restriction that is imposed has to be necessary in a democratic society, i.e. capable of being justified on the grounds of a pressing social need, and proportional to the objective for which it is sought to be imposed.
1.6 What are the international standards in this area?
In addition, various bodies and agencies of the United Nations have adopted a series of documents, including declarations, resolutions and communiqués which deal with particular aspects of the right to freedom of expression. The legal value of these documents depends on a number of factors, notably the legal character of the body or agency which adopted it: some documents are, therefore, legally binding while others are merely persuasive or exhortatory.
Recent years have also been a significant amount of activity in the evolution of legal standards on freedom of expression at the regional level. Organisations such as the Council of Europe, the Organisation of American States, the African Union, and the Commonwealth, have formulated norms and guidelines on free speech, and these have been reflected in documents emerging from these bodies.
Finally, there have been a number of initiatives at the non-governmental level which have supplemented standard-setting of the official bodies. For example, a group of experts with specialist knowledge of national security matters put together a set of principles which they urged governments and the media to follow during times of crises. These principles, called the Johannesburg Principles on National Security, Freedom of Expression and Access to Information, seek to reconcile the tensions that frequently arise between free speech and security of the state.
1.7 What are the main features of the right to freedom of expression as recognised by international law?
- is available to everyone, regardless of their race, religion, gender, colour, national status, educational attainments, nationality, political opinion, social origin, etc.
- requires state authorities not only to refrain from committing acts that interfere with its exercise, but to take measures which actively promote free speech.
1.8 Is prior restraint (i.e. censorship) of the media legal?
This is a question which calls for a nuanced answer. Generally speaking, prior restraint, i.e. a requirement that the media submit material intended for publication to a designated censor who may veto publication or order modifications to the material, is deemed undesirable. At least in so far as the press is concerned, prior restraint is very rarely carried out in practice: the only occasion when newspapers are subjected to prior restraint is during emergencies such as war, and even then on a limited scale. However, prior restraint is not unusual in the case of motion pictures. Most countries operate a system of certification which requires those intending to release any movie for public exhibition to screen the movie before a designated authority who may either: approve the film, with or without cuts, for public release; or rule that it is unfit for public exhibition. The exception made for motion pictures is based on the widely accepted view that movies have an impact on the viewing public that is much stronger and much more immediate than printed material. The legal validity of censorship in relation to movies has been upheld in a number of court decisions around the world.
Prior restraint in relation to printed matter and regular radio and television broadcasts has, by contrast, been viewed with much less favour, although it is not clear if any court has categorically ruled such restraint to be unconstitutional or otherwise prohibited. The US Supreme Court has declared that “Any system of prior restraints of expression comes to this Court bearing a heavy presumption against its constitutional validity” – a formulation which has been echoed by the UN Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Expression.
The only international instrument that forbids prior restraint (except where such restraint is aimed at protecting children) is the American Convention on Human Rights.
1.9 What role do the courts have to play in the area of free speech?
The courts in most countries play a vital role in defining the parameters of free speech and thus protecting and promoting freedom of expression, including the media’s freedom to discharge its functions effectively. Since the law needs to be interpreted, and since the courts are the ultimate arbiters of how particular pieces of legislation should be construed and applied, almost every country has, over time, built up a substantial body of case law, also called ‘jurisprudence’, on free speech and its limits. This case law serves as a guide for future cases, and is also often relied upon by courts in other countries. For example, courts in Commonwealth countries (most of which are former British colonies and therefore share a common legal heritage with Britain) look to court decisions in both the United Kingdom – e.g. the Privy Council and the House of Lords – and other member-states of the Commonwealth when deciding cases in areas where the law might be similar. There is also a growing tradition of courts in many parts of the world seeking inspiration from the Supreme Court of the United States which has built up an impressive body of case law on free speech issues, based on the very strong protection afforded to this freedom under that country’s written Constitution.
This process of cross-fertilisation of ideas and legal principles has been aided in recent years by the advent of information and communications technology: there are now a number of easily-searchable databases containing very useful information of an international and comparative kind aimed at media practitioners and lawyers. A list of some of the leading databases is provided in Appendix ‘..’.
1.10 To what extent may the media rely on international law in a national court?
Practice on this matter varies between countries, but generally speaking there are at least three possibilities. Where the legal system of a country automatically makes the provisions of any international instrument (e.g. a treaty, convention or covenant) a part of domestic law when the government of the country has ratified the instrument, the media can ask a national court to apply those provisions straightaway. Secondly, courts can be asked to apply the provisions of certain international documents such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in individual cases on the grounds that they are part of customary international law binding on all countries. Thirdly – and less strongly – the media can urge the courts to apply principles derived from comparative jurisprudence in other countries when interpreting national laws that leave room for judicial discretion.
It is worth noting that not all countries allow for the provisions of international treaties to become part of their domestic law automatically. Where this is the case, international law will only become binding if the national parliament or other law-making body incorporates the provisions of the treaties in domestic law. Even where a national parliament has failed to carry out the incorporation, the media can plausibly argue that the authorities should not act contrary to the letter and spirit of a treaty provision.
Even though treaty obligations not implemented by legislation are not part of our domestic law, the courts, in interpreting legislation, will do their best comfortably with the subject latter and policy of the legislation to see that their decisions are consistent with our international obligations.
The Supreme Court of Mauritius went even further and held that the jurisprudence of the European Convention on Human Rights – a treaty to which that country is not, and cannot be, a party – would be applied while construing domestic law in appropriate cases, given the similarity between the fundamental rights guaranteed by the Mauritian Constitution and the European Convention. A similar approach has been taken by the Supreme Court of India which noted that the rights guaranteed by that country’s constitution reflected quite closely the provisions of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.
1.11 Can the media avail of international mechanisms or procedures to advance its right to freedom of expression?
Yes, though it is by no means guaranteed that it will get the relief it is seeking, because even if an international mechanism or procedure accepts a complaint from, say a journalist, it may not have the power to enforce any decision that it may hand down. Subject to this important caveat, there are a number of avenues open for redress under international law.
For a start, media practitioners can approach one or more of the working groups or independent experts appointed by the United Nations under its human rights mandate. These groups or experts look into country specific or thematic issues and make periodic reports, which are often widely publicised. Of particular importance in this context is the UN Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Opinion and Expression, an authority created in 1993, who has a wide-ranging mandate to investigate matters, including complaints from individuals, concerning free speech and to raise his concerns directly with governments. The Special Rapporteur also has the authority to make urgent appeals on behalf of journalists who may be facing imminent threats to their human rights.
Another forum to which the media can take its concerns is the Human Rights Committee of the United Nations which requires state-parties to the ICCPR to submit reports every five years on how they have given effect to the rights contained in that treaty. The Committee, as part of its review process, accepts information from any source, including NGOs, on matters falling within its mandate, and used this information in forming its views, which are subsequently published. Under a separate procedure which only applies to those countries whose governments have signed an Optional Protocol, the Committee may also receive complaints from individuals about violation of their human rights, and these complaints – called ‘communications’ in official parlance – are heard and adjudicated upon.
1.12 Does the right to freedom of expression contain any implied facets which would be of relevance to the media?
Yes. The courts have been quite creative – and in some cases innovative – in deriving certain rights and entitlements from constitutional or statutory provisions guaranteeing freedom of expression. They have held, for example, that a constitutional right to free speech required the government to open up the state-controlled electronic media, i.e. radio and television, to political broadcasts by politicians belonging to different parties, including those in opposition to the ruling party. A similar approach was taken by the Supreme Court of India which ruled, in a landmark 1995 decision, that airwaves and radio frequencies were public property over which neither the government nor any private entity could claim a monopoly, which meant that there should be even-handed and public interest-driven regulation of broadcasting.
[I]n the case of newspapers they are supposed to be run on the basis of journalistic principles and ethics free from any outside interference. These principles dictate the coverage of all newsworthy events regardless of the source of such news. Anything less than this, and it is very easy for the general public to assess whether or not a given newspaper is working according to sound journalistic principles and ethics, is not acceptable from a publicly owned medium - print or other.
In another case decided by the Supreme Court of India, the judges implied a ‘right to reply’, based on considerations of fairness, in relation to media operating in the public sector. In this case, a public spirited citizen had published a report into the activities of an insurance company owned and operated by the state, but when the company criticised the report in an article that was published in its house magazine and he sought space to answer the criticism, he was rebuffed by the editor of the magazine. The court held that this amount to a denial of the citizen’s right to freedom of expression.
1.13 Are mandatory ‘right to reply’ schemes legal?
A newspaper is more than a passive receptacle or conduit for news, comment, and advertising. The choice of material to go into a newspaper, and the decisions made as to limitations on the size and content of the paper, and treatment of public issues and public officials - whether fair or unfair – constitute the exercise of editorial control and judgment.
The legality of a mandatory right to reply scheme will therefore depend on the particular approach adopted in a country’s legal and constitutional system.
· if the individual concerned cannot show the existence of a legitimate interest.
· where the contested information is a part of a truthful report on public sessions of the public authorities or the courts.
1.14 What about provisions that require the media, esp. broadcasters, to carry official messages, communiqués, etc?
This is another controversial area of the law. Some countries have provisions under which the media are compelled, on pain of penalties, to carry certain messages issued by the government. Generally speaking, such provisions are seen as an unwarranted interference with the broadcasters’ freedom of expression, given their potential for abuse by politicians and bureaucrats. However, they may be justified in situations of national emergency.
1.15 Are laws which require cable television operators to carry certain terrestrial channels compulsorily as part of their service legal?
Opinion on this matter is divided. The intention behind such laws, which are usually referred to as “must-carry” laws, is usually benign, viz. to offer viewers and listeners a more balanced fare in terms of the coverage they receive. However, “must-carry” laws are criticised on the grounds that they needlessly interfere with the cable operators’ freedom to choose their menu of channels, distort the free market, and show a patronising attitude towards viewers and listeners. That said, such laws have been held to be legal, and are seen as necessary to promote public service broadcasting.
1.16 Can the media claim any special rights?
Generally speaking, no. However, as a vital organ of society whose contribution to the maintenance and promotion of the rule of law is significant, the media can, and does, enjoy certain privileges in most countries. For example, journalists are routinely provided with access to certain events which are not necessarily open to the public, e.g. press conferences by government ministers. They are also given specially reserved spaces and facilities to cover the proceedings of the courts, parliament, etc. To avail of these privileges, the media must meet certain accreditation requirements, and the imposition of those requirements is deemed to be a reasonable burden on the media.
Occasionally, courts have protected the media from oppressive use of ordinary laws while emphasising that the media are not exempt from the application of such laws. The Supreme Court of India has held, for example, that, although the press are required to pay taxes like all other business enterprises, any tax which showed “a distinct and noticeable burdensomeness” on the press and which indirectly had the effect of emasculating freedom of expression would trigger pointed scrutiny. In one case, which involved the imposition of a tax on newsprint, the court, on a challenge from a newspaper, ordered the government to suspend further collection of the tax until it had conducted a study on the tax’s impact on the newspaper industry.
The US Supreme Court went even further and struck down a law which imposed a special tax on newspapers enjoying circulations larger than 20,000 copies per week. Such a tax, said the court, was unconstitutional because it amounted to “a deliberate and calculated device in the guise of a tax to limit the circulation of information to which the public is entitled.” Clearly, the impact of the measure would be more relevant in determining its legality than the intent behind its enactment.
1.17 What about anti-monopoly laws in relation to the media?
Most countries have laws to prevent undesirable concentration of economic power in the hands of one or a small number of businesses. Such laws have been justified on grounds of equity and fairness and are usually recognised as both necessary and acceptable. Many international legal instruments underline the need to avoid concentration of media power, and this has provided an additional basis for laws restricting market share, foreign ownership, and cross-ownership within the media sector.
However, where an anti-monopoly law is either discriminatory or has the effect of impacting particularly harshly on a media business, it may be subjected to special scrutiny by the courts on freedom of expression grounds.
Of all the means of ensuring that [pluralism is] respected, a public monopoly is the one which imposes the greatest restrictions on the freedom of expression, namely the total impossibility of broadcasting otherwise than through a national station … It cannot be argued that there are no equivalent less restrictive solutions; it is sufficient by way of example to cite the practice of certain countries which either issue licences subject to specified conditions of variable content or make provision for forms of private participation in the activities of the national corporation.
Even a state monopoly over the printing and distribution of newspapers may be suspect.
1.18 Are accreditation schemes for journalists legal?
[The] operation and application [of an accreditation scheme] must be shown as necessary and proportionate to the goal in question and not arbitrary … The relevant criteria for the accreditation scheme should be specific, fair and reasonable, and their application should be transparent.
1.19 Can a government require those intending to work as journalists to obtain and hold a licence?
Licensing of journalists is practised in some countries, though it is the exception rather than the rule. The reason usually offered for such licensing is to ensure that the journalistic profession, like other learned professions, is properly regulated. However, there is considerable divergence of view as to whether journalism is a profession which is amenable to state regulation, given that no specific qualifications are usually required for a person to express his views, including for publication to a wider audience. For this reason, the view has frequently been expressed that licensing requirements for journalists are a violation of the right to freedom of expression.
Such a view was echoed by the UN Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Opinion and Expression who, in a joint Declaration issued with two other international experts in this area in 2004, asserted that journalists should not be required to be licensed or to register with any state-mandated body.
The matter was also considered by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights in a decision handed down in 1985. Adjudicating on a Costa Rican directive which obliged aspiring journalists to become members of a nominated association, the court ruled that any such requirement would be violative of the right to freedom of expression.
1.20 What about the imposition of minimum qualifications for those wanting to become journalists?
Every person has the right to communicate his/her views by any means and in any form. Compulsory membership or the requirement of a university degree for the practice of journalism constitutes unlawful restrictions of freedom of expression.
1.21 Can the media be subject to business regulation?
Yes, because most media enterprises are run as businesses, and businesses are invariably subject to regulation by the state. This would involve, among other things, registering the business with a designated authority, specifying the location of its office, giving details about its owners, and so on. There may also be a requirement to periodically file returns on the commercial aspects of the business. As long as these requirements are enforced fairly and even-handedly, they are seen to be acceptable.
Where, however, a government seeks to single out the media for particularly harsh or onerous treatment – through, for example, a tough licensing regime – it may amount to a violation of international standards on freedom of expression. Several such cases have arisen in recent years, and some of them have led to censure from international bodies. In 1999, for example, the UN Human Rights Committee held that a law which conferred unfettered discretionary power on the government of Lesotho to grant or refuse registration to newspapers in that country was a violation of Article 19 of the ICCPR.
1.22 Are advertisements protected by freedom of expression laws?
Yes, although in some countries they may enjoy a slightly lower degree of protection than ‘political’ speech. Interestingly, the UN Human Rights Committee has dismissed the idea of a variable approach in this area when it decided a case arising from Canada in which a Quebec law required all advertisers in the state to use both English and French. The law was intended to protect the French-speaking minority, and the government argued that it could be justified on the basis of commercial advertising enjoying a lower level of protection than the expression of political ideas. The Human Rights Committee saw no reason to make such a distinction, and held that there were other ways in which the interests of the French-speaking minority could be protected without infringing on the advertisers’ freedom of expression.
Commercial speech has also been protected in Asian countries. For example, the Supreme Court of India ruled in a 1995 judgment that an attempt by a state-owned telephone company to ban the publication by a private sector company of a ‘Yellow Pages’ directory infringed the latter’s right to freedom of expression which had been guaranteed by the Constitution of India.
1.23 What happens when the government uses advertising as an instrument of control of the media?
This is a sensitive area which has given rise to considerable friction over the years. Governments, as a rule, have large powers of patronage at their disposal in the form of advertisements, and some have attempted to use this power to control the media by either denying advertising to newspapers and television companies that are seen to be hostile or offering contracts to media outlets that are willing to project the government in a favourable light.
[T]he refusal of advertisement by the State and parastatal companies to newspapers which adopt a negative attitude against the Government … [is] inconsistent with a respect for freedom of the press.
Similar sentiments have been expressed by some of the regional mechanisms for the protection of human rights.
It is not expected of the Government to exercise this power in order to favour one set of newspapers or to show its displeasure against another section of the press. It should not use the power over such large funds in its hands to muzzle the press or as a weapon to punish newspapers which criticize its policies and actions.
1.24 Do governments have any special responsibilities in relation to the media?
Yes. The right to freedom of expression guaranteed in international human rights instruments includes, in the opinion of many commentators, a duty on the part of governments to take such reasonable measures as are feasible and proportionate to protect journalists from threats, intimidatory actions, and violent attacks on their person and property. No less importantly, there is also an obligation on governments to carry out prompt, thorough and impartial investigations into any attacks that the media may have been subjected to, despite the adoption of precautionary measures. Several inter-governmental bodies, such as the European Court of Human Rights and the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights, have laid down guidelines in this regard.
 Compulsory Membership in an Association Prescribed by Law for the Practice of Journalism, Advisory Opinion OC-5/85 of 13 Nov. 1985, Inter-Am. Ct. Hum. Rts. (ser. A) ¶ 70 (1985).
 Kol Ha'am Company Lmt & Al-Ittihad Newspaper v. Minister of the Interior, High Court 73/53.
 Palko v. Connecticut, 302 US 319 (1937).
 See, e.g. Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) v. Union of India, AIR  SC 515,  2 SCR 287.
 The Johannesburg Principles are available online at www.article19.org/pdfs/standards/joburgprinciples.pdf. They are reproduced in full text at Appendix ‘..’ to this volume.
 See, e.g. K.A. Abbas v. Union of India 1970 (2) SCC 780. See also, Wingrove v. United Kingdom, 25 November 1996, Application No. 17419/90 (ECtHR).
 See, e.g. Bantam Books, Inc. v. Sullivan, 372 U.S. 58 (1963).
 Report on the mission to the Republic of Korea of the Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Opinion and Expression, UN Doc. E/CN.4/1996/39/Add.1, p. 8.
 The First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution explicitly guarantees the freedom of the press and couches this freedom in near-absolute terms.
 Huakina Development Trust v. Waikato Valley Authority and Ors  2 NZLR 188 at 229.
 DPP v. Mootoocarpen  LRC (Const) 768 at 771.
 See, e.g. Jolly George Verghese v. Bank of Cochin, AIR  SC 470.
 In exercise of his powers, for example, the Special Rapporteur in 2005 wrote to the governments of Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, raising concerns about certain alleged abuses, including the intimidation of journalists, in those countries – see Report of the Special Rapporteur on the Promotion and Protection of the Right to Freedom of Opinion and Expression, 29 March 2005, UN Doc. E/CN.4/2005/64/Add.1, paras. 501-504, 946-951, 972-90.
 Rambachan v. Trinidad and Tobago Television Co. Ltd and Attorney-General of Trinidad and Tobago, decision of 17 July 1985 (unreported).
 Secretary, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting v. Cricket Association of Bengal AIR 1995 SC 1236; 1995 SCC (2) 161.
 Arthur Wina & Others v. the Attorney-General (1990) HP/1878 (High Court: Lusaka).
 Manubhai Shah v. Life Insurance Corp. of India  3 SCC 637. A similar approach has been taken by the High Court of Trinidad & Tobago: see, Rambachan v. Trinidad and Tobago Television Co. Ltd. and Attorney-General of Trinidad and Tobago, decision of 17 July 1985 (unreported).
 Miami Herald Publishing Co. v Tornillo, 418 U.S. 241, 258 (1974).
 Resolution (74)26 on The Right of Reply – Position of the Individual in Relation to the Press, 2 July 1974.
 Recommendation No. Rec(2004)16 on The Right of Reply in the New Media Environment, adopted 15 December 2004.
 See, e.g. the decision of the US Supreme Court which upheld one such law in the case of Turner Broadcasting v. FCC, 512 U.S. 622 (1994).
 Indian Express Newspapers (Bombay) v. Union of India AIR 1986 SC 515,  2 SCR 287.
 Grosjean v. American Press Co., 297 US 233, 250 (1936).
 Declaration of Principles on Freedom of Expression in Africa (Oct 2002), accessible at <www.achpr.org/english/_doc_target/documentation.html?../declarations/de…>.
 Informationsverein Lentia v. Austria 24 November 1993, Application Nos. 13914/88, 15041/89, 15717/89, 15779/89, 17207/90, para. 39.
 See, e.g. Concluding observations of the Human Rights Committee: Armenia, 19 November 1998, UN Doc. CCPR/C/79/Add.100, para. 20.
 Joint Declaration of the UN Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Opinion and Expression, the OSCE Representative on Freedom of the Media and the OAS Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Expression, 18 December 2003, accessible at <www.cidh.org/Relatoria/docListCat.asp?catID=16&lID=1>.
Advisory Opinion OC-5/85 of 13 November 1985, Series A. No. 5.
 Inter-American Declaration of Principles on Freedom of Expression, approved by the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights during its 108th regular session, 19 October 2000.
 Concluding observations of the Human Rights Committee: Lesotho, 8 April 1999, UN Doc. No. CCPR/C/79/Add.106, para 23.
 Demuth v. Switzerland, 5 November 2002, Application No. 38743/97.
 Ballantyne and Davidson v. Canada, Communication No. 359/1989, UN Doc. CCPR/C/47/D/359/1989, 5 May 1993, Annex, para. 11.3.
 Tata Press Ltd. v. Mahanagar Telephone Nigam Ltd. AIR 1995 SC 2438.
 e.g. African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights, Declaration of Principles on Freedom of Expression in Africa (October 2002).
 Ushodaya Publications Pvt. Ltd. v. State of Andhra Pradesh, AIR 1981 AP 109 at 117.
 See, e.g. Miranda v. Mexico, Case 11.739, Report Nº 5/99, OEA/Ser.L/V/II.95 Doc. 7 rev., p. 755 (1998).

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