Gandhi’s View of the Individual |
- By Chandrakala Padia*AbstractThe present paper entitled, ‘Gandhi's View of The Individual’, attempts to explain how Gandhi's conception of the individual is both empirical and fairly transcendental. His unremitting reference to authentic human experience gives to his view on individual a coherence which is closer to the unity of life well lived rather than to that of a theoretically worked out system. What gives pre-eminence to Man in the animal world is his ability to tread the path of morality and religion, which lies in self-control. ‘The scaling of the Himalayas can at best give us but a temporary thrill’; ‘but the joy of self-control never wanes, and even ‘grows more and more’. This linkage is indeed the evidence of his lifelong practice of Truth and Ahimsa, which is also warranted by the very basic way he looks at the individual, who “is neither mere intellect, nor the gross animal body, nor the heart or soul alone? A proper and harmonious combination of all the three is required for the making of the whole man”. Gandhi’s emphasis on Truth and Ahimsa is widely known. But it is not so commonly realized that it is all along related to such a conception of the human individual as is by no means esoteric, though it surely does not ignore our spiritual interests. The view is of course not wholly original. Gandhi himself takes pains to remind us that his life and thought are both deeply rooted in hoary Indian traditions. Truth and Ahimsa, as he says, are indeed ‘old as the hills'1, Yet where their practice is earnest, self-critical and sustained, even the oldest principles acquire some new meanings in the context of challenges that life poses freely. So, to be fair to both the old and the new, we may focus on the latter, without quite skipping the former, as we set out to formulate Gandhi's view of the individual. Perhaps the most striking feature of this view is its comprehensiveness. It is both empirical and transcendental. He pays as much attention to the physical, psychological and spiritual dimensions of our being as to its involvement in the give-and-take of everyday life. It is just as noteworthy that where he looks at man from the transcendental or deeply spiritual point of view, he takes care to speak all along in the context of concrete human experience, be it his own or that of the saints and sages as embodied in the basic scriptures of India and in the devotional compositions (bhajans) of our saint-poets. In other words, his writing here is nowhere merely speculative. This unremitting reference to authentic human experience gives to his views on the individual a coherence which is closer to the unity of a life well lived than to that of a theoretically worked out system. Consider, first, his views on the physical being of an individual. He admits that the inner content of an individual’s body is unclean. But, on the other hand, he is also alive to the truth that it may as well be regarded as ‘the temple of the spirit'.2 The point is that, as the very basis of all activity, our psycho-physical structure is an excellent and the only vehicle for the realization of man’s ultimate goal, namely, moksa or spiritual emancipation. Incidentally, this is also a well-known emphasis of the Yogic system of physical and psycho-ethical discipline. It is noteworthy, however, that in subscribing to this emphasis, Gandhi has his eye almost wholly on the regulation of the native psychological propensities which determine our everyday behavior; and that he is not himself involved in, though he surely does not decry, the management of vital forces (prana-s) and the practice of bodily postures (or disanas) to which the Yoga system attaches very great value.3 It is important also to see how Gandhi's emphasis on the physical and moral well-being of the individual is related to his commitment to the overruling principles of Truth and Ahimsa. In his view, what gives pre-eminence to Man in the animal world is his ability to tread the path of morality and religion. The basics of this way, which are accepted, if not practiced, by almost everyone are enshrined in such simple precepts as: ‘Do not inflict (avoidable) injury on others’ and ‘Speak the truth’. A very popular, ancient epic of India, Ramayana, declares that no religious precept is superior to the one which commands us do good to others; and Satyandrayana ki kathi—that is, a devout way of celebrating the glory truth-speaking narratively — is occasionally organized even today in quite a few traditional Indian homes. So the two principles on which Gandhi's whole life and thought are based are no innovation of his; and he is not trying to be modest, but only speaking the truth when he says that Truth and Ahimsa are very old principles of conduct. Nor does he add anything to the Indian tradition when he insists that an individual cannot develop his character without the practice of vows4, though, as we shall presently see, he does make sensible additions to their number. But what is new, and can be of help to every individual, is the way he reflects on the traditional vows; highlights their value and inter-relations in the good life; and gives his own personal suggestions with regard to them - all from the viewpoint of their practicability in daily life. Thus, he argues, how can one practice ahimsa as a principle—or serve others habitually—unless one kept physically fit? And is it not every individual’s obvious duty to keep a gift from God in proper condition? Be it noted that Gandhi here seems to go a step further than the wisdom immortalized by the first mantra of the Ishopanishad which he himself eulogizes as the quintessential expression of the Hindu religious spirit: “All this that we see in this great universe is pervaded by God...Renounce it and enjoy it. Do not covet anybody's wealth or possession”.5 The thought that everything is permeate with God is obviously not identical with the view that the human body is a gift from Him; and it is significant that Gandhi not only subscribes to both, but emphasizes the latter: The body is not mine, it is a trust from God. As a faithful steward, I have to preserve it so as to get the best out of it for the service of His creation... Our body is to be cherished or cast away according to His will. This is not a matter for complaint or even pity; on the contrary, it is a natural and even a pleasant and desirable state... [But what is needed to see this] is the alchemy of detachment rooted in surrender to the will of God.6 What is said here relates to every individual; and is meant to free us all from deathbed agony or repentance. But what relates to our present purpose is the emphasis Gandhi generally puts on the relation of bodily health to ahimsa as a running determinant of conduct. What the individual, however, needs is guidance in respect of the actual practice of the principles he is required to act upon. How, for instance, is he to take care of his body in such wise that his progress on the path of moral goodness may also be helped? On Gandhi’s behalf we may answer the question as follows, strictly in the light of his own views. ‘A common cause of ill health is frequent overeating induced by one’s excessive liking for delicacies. One has therefore to take the vow of asvada, which means the sober resolution to refrain from getting attached to gastronomic pleasures. In saying so, however, we make an addition to traditional Hindu ethics; for, as Gandhi rightly points out, as an independent vrata, asvada ‘does not figure among the observances of time-honoured recognition’.7 But, as we all know, though it may be easy to make the required resolve, it is quite difficult to put it into practice. As in many other details relating to the good life, Gandhi would like to remind us of the Gita view on the matter. Our innate cravings for objects of sense-indulgence-which we inherit from our previous births-do not admit of easy control. But in respect of control of the palate, “A common kitchen...is very helpful...[Its] authorities... will not pamper us, they will cook only such food as helps us to keep the body a fit instrument for us [instead of catering to our individual fancies].”8 The suggestion is based on Gandhi's own experience, and does not seem to have any precedent in traditional Indian thought. What is more, in respect of the tendency to overeat, Gandhi bears in mind not only the individual’s penchant for delicacies, but even his susceptibility to excitement on special occasions. We tend to overeat also when we feel happy and excited after the successful completion of a difficult task. So Gandhi advises us to let the excitement pass off before we sit down to eat. In fine, it would be quite wrong to believe that Gandhi's conception of the individual is merely spiritual. At the same time, whatever we have said so far about Gandhi's views on the individual’s bodily health is not unrelated to our general happiness and to our ethical and spiritual welfare. Control over the palate is, for Gandhi, an essential pre-condition of the individual’s successful practice of brahmacharya9 (sexual temperance), which is itself an important prerequisite for God-realization. The individual, he believes, is a unity not only because the different bodily organs conjoin to keep one alive, but in respect of one’s concern with the good life. Thus, if restraint is directed only at sex and the other senses are allowed free indulgence, the practice of brahmacharya is not likely to succeed.10 Further, not only the senses as subjected to discipline, even the different vows are inter-related in practice, if not in abstract understanding. Thus, to turn again to asvada, if we agree (with Gandhi) that its practice requires us ‘to cultivate the feeling that the food we eat is to sustain the body, never to satisfy the palate’11, it becomes incumbent on everyone to keep a truthful eye on one’s own digestive powers and present appetite. To eat more than what one needs – may be unknowingly, or out of subservience to good taste—is at once to be untruthful. What is more, the practice of asvada becomes a little easier if, in the course of his actual endeavour, the individual bears two other truths in mind, one about his own fallibility as a human being, and the other about God’s being the source of all blessings, which include His grace without which full success in the practice of a vow cannot be achieved. Early, occasional lapses into overeating need not discourage us. The struggling individual has to remember the truths that “we humble seekers can but put forth a slow but steady effort...[;that, if it is coupled with faith our effort] is sure to win divine grace for us in God’s good time,....[and that] all artificial tastes will then disappear with the realization of the Highest.12 The nexus of asvada with truthfulness should now be clear. Its relation with ahimsa is even more obvious for Gandhi because, in his view, good health is needed essentially for lifelong service of others. What, however, still needs some comment is the closing complex of words in the extract just cited. The word artificial is here quite significant. What is artificial is not genuine or true; and the culmination of one’s effort in the practice of asvada at once exposes, to the practicing individual, the spuriousness of gastronomic pleasures because they cannot provide the abiding and uplifting satisfaction which issues from the ‘taste’ of succeeding in any effort because of the (felt) assistance of His grace. The dictum that truth is that which abides holds as much of our feelings and sentiments as in respect of being and existence; and the riches of the spirit stand for a feeling of fullness, freedom and steadfastness which is not only blissful, but imperturbable in the case of a sthitprajna or the ideal man. Anyway, what is desirable for every individual is a watchful and self-critical regulation of the entire life of sense; and, what is more, we may all remember that, far from being a source of lasting annoyance, such general restraint is a source of abiding, even growing happiness. The following remark of Gandhi, made well before the conquest of Mount Everest by Hillary and Tensing, may here be cited with advantage: “The scaling of the Himalayas can at best give us but a temporary thrill; but the joy of self-control never wanes, and even grows more and more.13 Indeed, every step in self-mastery is at once some agreeable feeling too; and should an individual decide to scale ever greater heights of righteousness, the happy feeling would surely steady him in the practice of that crucifixion of the flesh which is demanded by God- realization or by a long fast undertaken by way of voluntary self-suffering for the redress of individual foibles or social malpractices. But the two kinds of ills, individual and social, are hardly separable; and Gandhi's life and thought both alike highlight the truth that the greater an individual's commitment to social good the more likely is he to be good and happy himself.14 This linkage is indeed the evidence of his own lifelong practice of Truth and Ahimsa. But it is also warranted by the very basic way in which he looks at the individual. Is an individual essentially an absolutely independent entity? Gandhi would answer this question at once in the negative; and we say so on the basis of his following categorical utterance: “I believe in advaita,..in the essential unity of man... Therefore, ...if one man gains spiritually, the whole world gains with him.15 But, we may note, the implicitness here is one of faith, not that of a reasoned conclusion. It is obviously impossible to take into account each and every living creature and to show unmistakably how they are all interlinked, and not merely similar in some vital respects. Yet Gandhi's view here is not quite unsupported by reason; and it is surely some argument to suggest, as he does, that (at least) we, human beings, may be taken to be one because we are all ‘tarred with the same brush’ - that is, because we share some common basic defects. Gandhi does not here speak of common talents or capacities, but only of the limitations that are common to us all, if in varying measure. It is easy to see, however, that even such arguing points only to the similarity, and not to the oneness of all human beings. Is there no way, then, to argue for the oneness of (at least) all human beings? Sure, there is, Gandhi would promptly rejoin; it is reflection on what wholly self-effacing love can achieve or discover. Ahimsa or non-violence is (for Gandhi) the only way to realize—and not merely to talk about—the essential unity of our being, It is also (in his view) the basic means to Man’s abiding happiness and moral progress, and to eventual God-realization. But then, we must see what Ahimsa really is; for, as non-violence it seems only to mean not-hurting others, and a purely negative attitude may well be met by mere inaction, and so cannot serve as a positive, regulative principle of conduct. Now, the basic need here is to think of ahimsa not as merely a meaningful word, but as a principle operating in actual life and as determining one’s everyday dealings. The moment we do it, its negative character is seen to be illusory. For even if one decides only to refrain from hurting others, it will become incumbent on him to so regulate his reactions and attitudes that, whatever be the provocation from those he has to deal with, he may not become angry, for in the majority of cases violence issues from angry feeling. We take care to provide for some exceptions here, for we do not (as a rule) inflict physical hurt on our children even when they make us angry by their misdemeanor. The restraint, in such cases, is possible only because of the (pre-existing) love that binds us with our progeny. Such a bond cannot, of course, be readily established with one and all; but one can at least try to be patient with those who provoke us. Now, itis precisely this exercise which is made a little easy by the thought that we all have some common limitations; and that, because of the inbuilt tendencies in us all to feel unduly self-important on occasions or to be acquisitive generally, the others who do us wrong, because of such natural weaknesses, may not be taken to be singularly vicious. The ancient Indian adage that kama (desire, specially carnal) krodh (anger), mad (conceit), lobh (greed), and moha (injudicious attachment) are our principal enemies relates to the whole of mankind; and remembrance of the verifiable truth that we are all subject to some common improper tendencies facilitates—though it does not quite ensure—the due practice of ahimsa. This would probably be a distinct argument of Gandhi to explain why Patanjali puts Truth at the head of his list of yamas or the first five basic observances. Be that as it may, this is undeniable that if, forgetting our own limitations, we become impatient with others’ weaknesses, the likelihood of our getting angry—and so of growing violent—with them, will surely increase. This is precisely what Gandhi means by saying that even undue impatience is himsa (or violence).16 Here he may not be accused of confusing two distinct concepts, impatience and violence. We should rather be guided by the thought that, in so far as he is interested essentially in the practice of ahimsa rather than in merely understanding what the word means, Gandhi looks on impatience as quite as serious and rejectable a wrong as—though not quite identical with actual violence, because it at once makes us susceptible to the latter. However, we have yet to explain in a simple way why Gandhi believes that if the individual wishes to realize the ultimate Truth, which is (in his view) God, the only way open to him is that of Ahimsa. The start may be made by taking a wider look at the points we have already made and at the concepts they involve, that is, the following: Truth—of the fundamental oneness of all (human) life, and of our being subject to some common shortcomings; and Ahimsa, and its practice as necessary means to attainment of Truth, Gandhi does not take the word, Truth, in an esoteric sense alone. If he regards it as rattan chintamani—that is, as a jewel which helps the fulfilment of every righteous desire—he does so only because the practice of truth make for the all-round improvement of the individual as a moral being. And it is easy to see how Truth is really of such help. Even if it be taken as a quality of everyday speech, as in the precept: ‘speak the truth’, the consequences of its practice can be very far-reaching. For if we resolve to speak the truth generally, we will have to avoid those situations which almost compel us to tell lies; and in so far as such occasions are precisely those when we do a wrong and are tempted to cover it up by lying, the single resolution to hold on to truth-speaking can serve as a bulwark against all wrong-doing and so ensure positive growth in goodness. The same simple conception of truth also gives full liberty of thought and speech to an atheist, without in any way alienating him from God’s authority and providence. Gandhi argues that just as the law that rules the land does not cease to operate because of a villager’s unawareness of it, God’s sovereign authority is not set to naught by the atheist’s disbelief.17 On the other hand, the major sources of God’s benevolence that nourish us—say, the sun and the air that we breathe—do not fail to operate in the case of those who do not believe in God.18 The subtle point to note here, however, is that an atheist may even be (said to be) quite in tune with God’s essential nature, if quite unwittingly. For, if he voices his disbelief in God sincerely, the atheist would be truthful and so close to God—because God is Truth. This is, in our view, what Gandhi really means when he speaks thus: “that which impels man to do the right is God... He is [even] the denial of the atheist”.19 The way we have here tried to relate even an atheist to God (as Truth) is supported more clearly by Gandhi’s own following words: Bradlaugh, whose atheism is well-known, always insisted on proclaiming his innermost convictions...He delighted in it and said that truth is its own reward. Not that he was quite insensible to the joy resulting from the observance of truth. This joy, however, is not at all worldly, but springs out of communion with the divine. That is why I have said that even a man who disowns religion cannot and does not live without religion.20 But how is an average individual to understand and accept the view that God is Truth? Gandhi would open his answer to this question by referring to the word Satya, which is a Sanskrit equivalent of Truth. It literally means: That which is. So the proposition: ‘God is Truth’ may be taken to signify ‘He alone [really] is’. But this is surely likely to bewilder the common man. Is not the world with its abounding content of things, people and happenings, also clearly there? Gandhi would rejoin: sure, it appears to be there, but things often seem to be what they are really not21 and, what is more, they are not immune to decay. God, on the other hand, is not Himself the appearance of anything. This appears to be Gandhi’s meaning when he speaks of God as the ‘purest essence’.22 No superior reality may be said to transcend God; no experience is so deeply satisfying as a living communion with God; and He is, of course, the everlasting Reality. Gandhi would add that at least the second of these truths can be verified by every individual, in his (or her) own individual experience, for He never fails to help in critical situations, provided one looks upon Him in humility and trust. Soulful prayer is the individual’s most effective shield against the ‘slings and arrows of misfortune’. Indeed, the realization that God ‘gives the greatest solace in the midst of the severest fire23 is no monopoly of sages and saints. It is achievable by the lowliest of individuals; one has only to meet the requirement of truthfulness in prayer. But it is important to see the full meaning of this requisite. Too long for relief is natural for anyone who is suffering; such longing wells up from the heart, and so it cannot but be true or sincere. But focusing the mind straightaway on God is not so easy; it calls for long prior practice and the watchful observance of quite a few disciplines. Yet even the meanest of individuals can at least confess to himself, as he prays, that he is not able to fix or rest his mind on God and this truthful confession of a clear inability would at once make his struggling prayer acceptable to the God of Truth. Truth is as much a requirement of inner attitudes as of thought and speech; and the individual who wishes to practice the vow of Truth has to care for things far more subtle than those that meet the eye. This is why Gandhi often resorts to spells of intense heart-searching; and this may also be regarded as some hint for the common man to realize that objects of sense are not the only loci of value. The concept of the supersensible is not as flimsy as it seems to be. But in talking of truth, prayer, and God, have we quite moved away from our initial concern with ahimsa and the basic oneness of all (human) life? Not really, and to see this we have only to think about ahimsa a little more deeply than we have so far done, and all along in the context of individual life. To begin anew from the apparently negative meaning of ahimsa, how can one actually keep off himsa or the very thought of harming others? The tendency to be violent or to hit back is inherent in us all. In a provocative situation we do not have to try to be angry; we become so automatically. What needs effort is rather the avoidance of such a reaction. Even patience and resort to the thought of our common weaknesses may not help where passions run high and sanity is clouded over with dogmatic, narrow and vested interests and with the coloured reasoning issuing therefrom. Here one has to try, as much as one can, to keep to the path of love and tolerance. This indeed is why ahimsa is said to be a vrata or vow. Gandhi is quite alive to the difficulty of keeping to a vow faithfully. In his own words, he is ‘a practical idealist’.24 ‘After taking a vow’, he says, “one should not start soaring in the sky but remain on the earth... We are, imperfect”25; and so are always liable to falter in the practice of a vow. On the other hand, however human nature is not quite without some built-in support for the cultivation of love and so for the active practice of ahimsa. Hardly any individual is utterly incapable of experiencing a natural melting of the heart at the immediate sight of suffering; and though the ability to envisage the misery of the poor and the down-trodden as clearly as if it were actually before us has to be expressly cultivated, our inborn ability to feel for those who need relief visibly is surely of help in taking to a life of love and service. It is in this context noteworthy—because we have not so far seen it emphasized elsewhere—that Gandhi here pleads for a resort to visual imagination, if not quite openly. He himself seems to do this when he expresses and reiterates his commitment to the path of service by declaring that he is not going to rest until he has wiped ‘every tear from every eye’, and as an easy way to keep our everyday conduct inclined to the path of ahimsa or service, he recommends a similar use of imagination to every individual. See, here, his following words: I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man whom you have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him. Will he gain anything by it? In other words, will it lead to swaraj for the hungry and spiritually starving millions? Then you will find your doubt and yourself melting away.26 It is important to look at these words very closely: First, it is clear that they are addressed to every individual. We all ‘feel undecided, at times, as to the right course of action. Nor is it uncommon to worry too much about our own interests. Today, in fact, such excessive self-concern is a frequent cause of tension and apprehensiveness. But all such inhibitions are quite likely to disappear if, at the point of acting, the image of a woebegone face bestirs a little compassion in our hearts; and we may be directly impelled to choose a course of action which is utterly selfless. Second, it is noteworthy that the first step in the “talisman’s” working—as distinguished from its leading to ahimsa as a running determinant of conduct—does not call for the prior observance of any such discipline as may be open only to those who are blessed with a strong will or with a highly refined moral sense. Gandhi’s formula requires us to avail of our native psychological equipment.27 Yet, if we do as it wants us to, we at once get set on the path of ahimsa. This may only be the thin end of the wedge; but even at this early stage in the practice of ahimsa, the experience is a positive breath of bliss, a felt expansion of the self in utterly outgoing love. It is admittedly difficult to prove that we are all one. But, just as definitely, the experience we speak of dissipates the seeming hard otherness of the other, if only for a while; one feels liberated from obsession with self, and what is directly felt does not need any further proof. Thirdly, Gandhi’s formulation of the ‘talisman’ is a clear index of how he looks at the individual as an intense, but living unity of the physical and the spiritual. Even if we do the very minimum for the poorest of us—say, by providing them simply the basic amenities of life—they may well be enabled to think how they can make the most of their lives, and so to secure a measure of swaraj in the sense of self-determination. Further, when they are thus relieved from the everyday worry of meeting their basic needs of life, they may even be able to think of a nobler kind of living, that is, of ethico-religious progress. As things stand at present, the millions of India who are perforce hungry for food—and surely not fasting by choice—are also starving spiritually. They languish in spirit because of physical starvation. The selfsame emphasis on the view that an individual is an intimate oneness of body and soul is reflected in Gandhi's opposition to the curse of untouchability, which has plagued Hindu society for long: We [the Hindus] have endeavoured to disfigure God’s mightiest creation, namely, man. The soul of man has a beauty never to be surpassed by any ravishing beauty...[in the region of sense]. But the so-called....high class Hindus arrogated to themselves the right of suppressing a portion of Hindu humanity...[We have] left no stone unturned to suppress....the soul of man by putting thousands outside the pale of society.28 Gandhi never uses words without really meaning what they signify; and so it would be doing the needful if we could somehow determine what he means by the surpassing beauty of ‘the soul of man.’ So far as we know, he does not himself face and answer the question. But it seems to us that a fairly satisfactory answer can be given (on his behalf) by building upon some of his own basic views. Consider, for example, the following:
Let us now reflect on these three extracts, along with the one cited a little earlier (A), which contains the thought we are trying to clarify. The soul of man can be seen in two ways: first, that it has a beauty which is unsurpassable by any ravishing beauty; and second, that the soul of man has been suppressed in the case of thousands of Hindus. Taking the two together, we may say that the beauty in question is not manifest immediately—because the soul can be kept suppressed—but only when it is allowed to have its own way. Now, the way of “the soul’s natural progress’ is that of increasing selflessness [or service] and purity. Purity, here, is not mere cleanliness; Gandhi links it purposely with selflessness. It is therefore to be taken also as freedom from all those factors which corrupt the mind, inflate the ego, make us self-centred, and so alienate us from our fellow-beings. It is not for nothing that the traditional ethico-religious literature of India warns us repeatedly to beware ‘the five principal enemies of mankind’. It is indeed only by means of unremitting watchfulness in respect of our everyday conduct and attitudes that not only ‘the gross animal’ body, but even the heart and the intellect can be purified. And it is only this all round purity which makes it possible for all the powers of an individual’s being to work in harmony. But, we may note, this harmony is not a matter of giving equal importance to everything that makes us what we are. Gandhi’s emphasis is here quite clear: “It is not man’s duty to develop all his functions to perfection; his duty is to develop all his God-ward faculties [alone] to perfection and to suppress completely those of a contrary tendency”.32 Upon this view, the modern practice of devoting one’s whole life to the exclusive pursuit of games and sports or to innovative work in the field of dressmaking is a clear and improper indifference to the truth that Man’s ultimate aim is the realization of God....[;] that all his activities....have to be guided by the ultimate aim of the vision of God... and that] the immediate service of all human beings becomes a necessary part of the endeavour simply because the only way to find God is to see Him in His creation...33 In other words, the requisite integration of an individual’s inner being means that, with the express purpose of realizing his destiny as a human being, he has to carefully regulate—and not to merely ignore or suppress—all his psycho-physical impulses such wise that attainment of the crowning objective may be helped. It should now be possible to see how it makes sense to say, as Gandhi does, that no ravishing beauty in Nature (or in the realm of sense taken generally) can surpass the (hidden) beauty of the soul. Speaking quite generally, beauty is attractiveness arising, in the main, from a proper integration of whatever is there in the object that appears to be beautiful. A figure is beautiful essentially, though not only in so far as its various parts or limbs appear to go well with one another. In the region of art too, it is form as a dynamic interplay of elements, which is now regarded as the main source of a work's beauty or significance. Now, what Gandhi speaks of as the beauty of the soul is nothing but the purity of a ‘God-ward’ life achieved through a far richer regulation of details than the one involved in producing a work of art; and so it may well be regarded as partaking eminently of the essence of art. In a good music composition only two basic elements dovetail, namely, swara and laya (or aesthetic pace); and musicianship results from a mastery of just these two factors with their cognates.34 Attainment of purity, on the other hand, calls for a regulation of an individual’s whole life, right from what and how he eats, and how he relaxes—in meaningless, but rejuvenescent prattle with tiny tots or in a casino—to how he reacts not only to the pressures of personal life but to the various ills that plague society. Here, Gandhi's own following words may be cited with advantage: There is a place for art in life....[But] people who claim to pursue ‘art for art's sake’ are unable to make good their claim. [The fact is that if art] becomes an end in itself, it enslaves and degrades humanity... We have somehow accustomed ourselves to the belief that art is independent of the purity of private life.... Nothing could be more untrue. As lam nearing the end of my earthly life, I can say that purity is the highest and truest art. The art [say,] of producing good music from a cultivated voice can be achieved by many, but the art of producing that music from the harmony of a pure life is achieved very rarely....There is an art which kills and an art gives life.35 But these remarks are not the only challenge of Gandhi to the prevalent view of art’s tenuous relation to morality. He would also like us to reflect on a key question. What exactly is an individual's most essential need—happiness or inner peace? It would here be wrong to point to the former; and we say so with some reason. Happiness is not always congenial to right thinking and decision; for, as on festive occasions, one may well feel happy and excited. Serenity or peace, on the other hand, necessarily admits of cool reflection and so does not easily allow one to choose wrong ends or means. Imperturbable peace is finally attained only by leading a godward life. ‘Man is not at peace with himself till he has become like unto God’.36 The only means to become so is the path of morality. So whatever is indifferent to the norms of morality—be it the seductive, easy-to see-God recipe of a God man of today or the widely acclaimed, but permissive creation of an artist—must be rejected as inimical to the individual's ultimate interests. As for those who create works by way of extolling the ravishing beauty of a particular female figure,37 our answer (on behalf of Gandhi) would be that any beauty, which ravishes the onlooker, overwhelms him with delight, upsets his balance of mind and so may well stir up impulses, which are not quite laudable. But, tempting though it surely is to extol it as Gandhi does, the beauty of spirit is clearly not achievable, as he himself would insist, except through the meticulous practice of ahimsa. His talisman sure makes sense as a panacea for the individual’s habitual indifference (at least in the big cities of India today) to social needs. However, mere absence of indifference to others’ suffering is not the same thing as the positive and lifelong commitment to social causes demanded by the vrata of ahimsa; and some skeptical questions yet remain to be discussed:
Gandhi's answer to both these questions would turn, importantly, upon his regard for the individual’s needs, capacities, and destiny. True, it is not possible to help large sections of society by proceeding to determine and meet the specific needs of every single individual. But, at the same time, whereas it is necessary to address such large questions as provision of cheap education and clean public toilets for people living in slums, it is also imperative to actively keep in touch with them, and to even dwell and occasionally dine with them, so as to get a direct feel of the many little ways in which they suffer as individuals with some basic, daily needs. No fellow feeling flows from the mere concepts of poverty and suffering; and an impersonal working of public welfare schemes lacks those quiet expressions of love, such as a kindly look or a warm handshake, which not only lighten the physical strain of helping others, but enable them to accept help without any felt loss of dignity. And to think of the suffering merely in terms of number is to incur the risk of becoming less sensitive than is necessary. This indeed is why when his law-keeping colleagues assure him, complacently, that only a few people have been killed in a very big riot, Gandhi straightaway asks the reporters to try to comfort the bereaved families, individually, with the same assurance! It is not merely possible but necessary for a votary of ahimsa to look at society as a group of individual centres of experience, and not as mere abstract units; and it is this which can enable him to work for a direct, if not quite perfect realization of the truth that we are all one. But, be it noted, this truth—of the unity of being—is elicited as a crowning experience of cordiality. The way to this experience is purification of self by intentional abstinence, prayer, and selfless love. It is not an easy discipline. But its fruition quite makes up for the rigour; it runs over ill will and antagonism, if not for good. The point may be brought out by taking a close look at the context and inner logic of a typical satyagrahic fast of Gandhi, that is, a fast which is related to truth in more ways than one, as we shall presently see. The context, here, is a situation of wanton communal violence. Gandhi sees it clearly that the fighting is quite unwarranted and ruinous. But, as a votary of ahimsa, he just cannot condemn the rioters angrily. Nor does he expect any persuasion or counsel to work in the situation; for where passions run high, same thinking is just out of the question. Therefore Gandhi is left with just one choice. He must somehow move the hearts of the rioters. For whatever moves the heart is dwelt upon for a while; and the mind is given a breather for some patient thinking, and so also a chance to get at the truth of the situation beneath the tumult of passion. But what can truly move the rioters’ heart and prompt some genuine heart-searching is only the definite awareness that a man who loves them truly is suffering for their sake, and quite without any self-interest. So Gandhi undertakes a fast. It’s being ‘unto death’, along with Gandhi's own known adherence to truth in all that he says or does, opens up the truth and gravity of the situation to the rioters. They see it clearly that he is dead earnest about continuing the fast; and that he loves them truly, for there is no better index of the truth of a love than readiness to suffer for those whom one professes to love. Further, the fast is a protracted abstention from food; and though his spirit retains its wonted buoyancy, Gandhi's physical suffering is obvious. The inner composure, we may note, arises from his faith in two basic truths: first, that God never deserts of man who struggles for a good cause prayerfully, and so quite without rancor; and second, that in so far as we are all essentially one, the hardest heart (must melt) and the grossest ignorance must disappear before the sun of suffering without anger and without malice....[because whereas] the appeal of reason is more to the head [which can easily put forth specious arguments] the penetration of the heart comes from suffering... which] opens up the inner understanding in man.39 Now it is important to visualize what Gandhi could possibly mean by the opening-up of ‘inner understanding’. It is, we believe, a sudden and overpowering, yet redemptive influx, so to say, of the wholeness of truth (as fact) into the rioters’ awareness, When the continuance of the fast becomes ominous, they are reminded anew of the laudable motive of the fast; and the need for some urgent, remedial action is heightened by what they see quite clearly and a little apprehensively, namely, Gandhi’s withering physical frame. So, what his suffering generates in the rioters is not mere compassion, but a powerful impulse to probe for what they all have done to let violence begin and proliferate; and they are prompted to act in accordance with their resurrected sense of right. This is what Gandhi means by the opening- up of inner understanding; and as it comes about, the rioters begin to retrace their steps, and peace is eventually restored. Should one wonder at this happy play of inter subjectivity, our answer would be that it is but the elicitation of a truth. No individual is inexorably insular; and the realization that, at the deepest level, we are all one is not only the perfection of ahimsa at work, but attainment of our spiritual destiny. Notes and References:
Courtesy: Gandhi Marg, Volume 42 Number 1&2, April-September 2020. * Chandrakala Padia has retired as Professor from the Department of Political Science, Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi in May, 2019. During a span of 44 years of her service to BHU, she served as Head, Department of Political Science; Dean, Faculty of Social Sciences and; Director, Centre for Women’s Studies and Development. She served as Chairperson of the 'UGC Standing Committee on Women’s Studies', Vice Chancellor of MGS University, Bikaner, Rajasthan, and Chairperson, Indian Institute of Advanced Study, Shimla. She has the honor of being invited in one of the most prestigious Political Theory Lecture Series of Chicago University to speak on 'Gandhi'- a series in which the leading philosophers of the world like Charles Taylor, Michael Sandel, George Kateb and Michael Walzer were earlier invited. She has been a Visiting Professor to the Universities of McMaster, Toronto, Calgary, Chicago, Krakow (Poland), Stockholm, Maison des Sciences de I'Homme, Paris and Nebraska at Omaha, US. She has authored five books and edited eleven books. Prof. Padia has won several awards such as UGC Career award (1986); US Fulbright Award (1987); McMaster Visiting Scholar Fellowship Award (1989); US Salzburg Fellowship Award (1994); D.P. Mukherjee Award (1997), Shastri Indo Canadian Fellowship Award (1997) and US Award for South Asian Women Administrators in Higher Education (2016). | Email: chandrakala.padia@gmail.com |