Orwell: Gandhi Caprice

Saints should always be found guilty until they have been proven innocent, but the tests applied to them, of course, are not the same in all circumstances. In the case of Gandhi, the question you feel asked is: to what extent Gandhi was driven by vanity—by the humble, naked old man who realized that he was a humble, naked old man who sat at a prayer table and shook the empire with pure spiritual power—and to what extent he participated in politics and undermined his own principles, because the nature of politics cannot be separated from coercion and fraud. To give a definitive answer, you must study Gandhi's actions and writings in extreme detail, for his whole life was a kind of pilgrimage, in which each action had meaning. But this incomplete autobiography, written up to the 20s, is strong evidence in his favor, especially since it deals with aspects of what he might call a life of debauchery, and reminds you that in the heart of the saint or semi-sage was a very shrewd and capable man who could well have become a lawyer, administrator, and perhaps even an entrepreneur who could achieve outstanding achievements if he himself so wished.

When this autobiography (1) first appeared, I remember reading the first few chapters of it in an Indian newspaper that was poorly printed. These chapters gave me a good impression, which Gandhi himself did not give me at the time. Some of the things associated with him such as self-weaving, "soul power", vegetarianism, etc. were unattractive, and his medieval program was clearly not feasible in a backward, hungry, overpopulated country. It was also clear that the British were using him, or thinking they were using him. Strictly speaking, as a nationalist Congress, he is the enemy, but since he always does everything in every crisis to prevent violence – which from the British point of view means preventing any effective action – he can be regarded as "our man". In private, this is sometimes frankly acknowledged. The same is true of india's millionaires. Gandhi told them to repent, and they naturally liked him and did not like the Socialists and Communists, who would take their money at every opportunity. It is doubtful how strong this intention is in the long run; as Gandhi himself said, "In the end, the deceiver deceives only himself." "But in any case, part of the reason why he is almost always treated mildly is that he is found useful. The British Conservatives were only really angry with him when he was effectively non-resistance to other conquerors, as in 1942. ②

(1) "My Story of Testing Truth", by Gandhi, translated by Desai in English.

(2) Refers to the Japanese invasion of India during World War II.

But I could see that even then, speaking of his British officials in a tone of amusement and disapproval, was somewhat genuinely fond of him and appreciative of him. No one ever said that he was corrupt, or had any vulgar ambitions, or that he had done something out of fear or malice. In judging a man like Gandhi, you seem to instinctively apply high standards, so that some of his virtues are almost ignored. Even in his autobiography, for example, his courage to naturally put life and death aside is quite remarkable: his assassination later proved this, because public figures who cherished his life a little more were better guarded. Moreover, he seems to be completely free of E.M Foster rightfully calls the ills of India, which is difficult to change—suspicion and suspicion (as hypocrisy for the Ills of Britain). Although, no doubt, he was shrewd and able to detect the dishonesty of others, he always seemed to believe as much as possible that others acted in good conscience, and had a good nature by which he could impress them. Moreover, although he came from a poor middle-class family, the road of life did not start well, and he was probably not outstanding in terms of body shape, but he had no jealousy or inferiority. The discrimination of skin color, which he had encountered for the first time in South Africa and the worst manifestation of it, seemed to surprise him. But even when he was engaged in a de facto war of skin color, he did not see people in terms of their race or status. The governors, the rich cotton merchants, the half-hungry and half-hungry Dravidians (2) the coolies, and the English native soldiers were all equals and should be treated equally. It is worth noting that even in the worst cases, such as in South Africa, when he acts as a protector of the rights and interests of local Indians and is not popular, he has no shortage of European friends.

(1) E.M Foster (1879-1970), British novelist, author of "Journey to India" and "Room with a View".

(2) An ethnic group that lives mainly in southern India.

This autobiography, written in short paragraphs to facilitate newspaper serialization, is not a literary masterpiece, but it is even more impressive because much of its material is of an ordinary nature. We'd better remember that Gandhi began his debut with the normal ambitions of a young Indian student, and that his extremist views were gradually formed and, on some issues, as a last resort. We are interested to know that there was a time when he was also wearing a top hat, learning to dance, learning French and Latin, going up to the Eiffel Tower, and even trying to learn the violin – all with the aim of absorbing European civilization as thoroughly as possible. He was not the kind of saint who had been distinguished by superhuman piety since childhood, nor was he the other kind of saint who abandoned the world after indulging in lust. He fully confessed the absurd bad deeds of the teenager, but in fact, he did not have many bad deeds to confess. There is a photograph in front of the book of Gandhi's posthumous relics from his death. All the clothes could be bought for £5, and Gandhi's sins, at least his physical sins, would have given a similar impression if they were put in a pile. A few cigarettes, a few mouthfuls of meat, a few cents stolen from the maid in his childhood, going to the brothel twice (each time he escaped without doing anything), once having an affair with his landlady in Plymouth, and throwing a tantrum—that's all the blame. Almost from childhood, he was particularly serious, a moral rather than a religious one, but by the time he was 30 years old, he had no very clear sense of direction. His first attempt at what might be called social activity was through vegetarianism. Beneath his less ordinary qualities in comparison, you have always felt the presence of the rather middle-class merchants of his ancestors. You think that if he gave up his personal ambitions, he would become a resourceful, energetic lawyer and a calm-headed political organizer who knows how to drive down expenses, a master at leading committees, and a newspaper manager who tirelessly wins over subscribers. His personality is extremely mixed, but there is hardly anything in it that makes you accuse him of saying that it is not right, and I am sure that even Gandhi's greatest enemy will admit that he is an intriguing and unusual man who enriches the world just by being alive. But as to whether he was also a lovely man, and whether his religious-based teachings were of any value to people who did not accept religious beliefs, I was not sure.

In recent years, when talking about Gandhi, it has become fashionable to refer to him as if he were not only sympathetic to the Left Movement in the West, but even as an integral part of it. The anarchists and pacifists, in particular, claim that he belonged to them, and they noted only his opposition to centralization and state violence, while ignoring the outgoing anti-human tendencies in his doctrines. But I think you should understand that Gandhi's teachings cannot be equated with the belief that man is the measure of all things, and that our task is to make life on this earth worthwhile, because this earth is the only earth we have. Gandhi's teaching makes sense only on this premise: God exists, and the world of real objects is an illusion to be escaped. It is worth considering the discipline that Gandhi exercised on himself, which, though he may not insist on observing every detail of his followers, believes that these disciplines are indispensable if you are to serve God or humanity. The first is not to eat meat, and, if possible, to eat whatever form of anything taken from animals (Gandhi himself had to compromise on milk for health reasons, but seems to think it was a step backwards). Don't drink alcohol, don't smoke, don't eat pepper or spicy condiments, or even vegetable-type ones, because food isn't eaten for the sake of eating, but entirely to preserve your stamina. Second, if possible, do not have sexual intercourse. If sexual intercourse must take place, it should be entirely for the purpose of childbearing, and at a long interval, Gandhi himself, in his thirties, made the vow of bramahcharya (1), which implied not only complete virginity but also the eradication of sexual desire. It seems that it is difficult to do without following specific recipes and fasting regularly. Drinking milk has a danger, that is, it is easy to cause sexual desire. Finally, this is the most important point, that those who pursue goodness cannot have intimate friendships, cannot have any single-minded love.

(1) Sanskrit for "keeping chastity".

Gandhi says that intimacy is dangerous because "friends work with each other" and you may do something wrong because you are loyal to a friend. This is undoubtedly true. Moreover, if you love God and all of humanity, you cannot favor any one individual. This is also true, and here the attitude of human nature and the attitude of religion can no longer be reconciled. For an ordinary person, if love does not mean loving someone more than others, then love is meaningless. The autobiography does not explicitly indicate whether Gandhi's attitude toward his wife and children was very inconsiderate, but it does show that on three occasions he would rather his wife and a child die than let them eat animal food according to the doctor's prescription. It is true that death did not happen as he had feared, and Gandhi—you might guess, under strong moral pressure from the opposing side—always left the patient to choose whether to prolong his life at the cost of committing a sin, but he would still fast on animal food, no matter how dangerous it was, if it were entirely up to him to decide. He said that there should be certain limits to the actions we take to survive. And this limit is not enough to drink chicken soup. This attitude may be noble, but it is inhumane to the word most people understand. The essence of being human is that you don't have to strive for perfection, but you are sometimes willing to sin in order to teach righteousness, and you don't have to push your abstinence to the point where friendly interaction is impossible, and you have to be prepared to eventually be crushed by life, which is an inevitable price to give your love to other individuals. There is no doubt that tobacco, alcohol, and so on are things that saints must avoid touching, but the realm of saints is also something that ordinary people must avoid touching. This is obviously rebuttable, but caution must be exercised in this rebuttal. In this age of yogis, it is easy to think that "detachment" is not only better than full acceptance of worldly life, but that ordinary people reject it only because it is too difficult to do so. In other words, ordinary people are failed saints. The correctness of this statement is doubtful. Many people sincerely do not wish to be saints, and it is likely that some people who have attained or wish to attain the state of saints have never felt much of a temptation to be ordinary people. If you can trace back to the psychological roots, I believe you will find that the main motivation for "detachment" is the desire to escape the pain of being alive, and especially to escape love, whether it is sexual or non-sexual, love is a very tiring and hard work. However, there is no need to debate here, the ideal of birth and the ideal of being a human being are higher or lower. The problem is that they are incompatible. You have to choose between God and man, and all the "radicals" and "progressives," from the most moderate liberals to the most extreme anarchists, actually choose people.

But Gandhi's pacifism can be somehow separated from his other teachings. Its motives were religious, but he also argued for it that it was a clear tactic, a method, capable of producing the desired political effect. Gandhi's attitude was not that of most Western pacifists. First developed in South Africa, satyagraha (1) is a nonviolent tactic, a method that defeats an enemy without hurting him or feeling hatred or provoking hatred. It needs to carry out such activities: civil disobedience movements, strikes, lying on the rails, facing police attacks without fleeing or fighting back, and so on. Gandhi objected to the translation of satyagraha as "passive resistance," which in Gujarati seems to mean "to hold on to the truth." Gandhi served as a stretcher for the British in the War in South Africa in his early years, and he was prepared to do it again during the 1914-1918 war. Even after he had completely renounced violence, he honestly saw that in war it was often necessary to stand on one side against the other. He did not — indeed, since his whole political life revolved around the struggle for national independence, he could not — adopt a futile and dishonest attitude, believing that in every war both sides were one and the same, and that it did not matter who won or lost. Nor is he, like most Western pacifists, adept at avoiding difficult questions. One of the questions that every pacifist has a clear obligation to answer during this recent war is: "What attitude do you have toward the Jews?" Are you ready to watch them being wiped out? If not, how are you going to rescue them without resorting to war? "I must say that I have never heard an honest answer to this question from any random Western pacifist. Although I hear many evasive words, it is usually a "you are one again" type of reply. But Gandhi asked a somewhat similar question in 1938, and his answer was officially included in Louis Fischer's book Gandhi and Stalin. According to Fischer, Gandhi's view that German Jews should commit suicide en masse "would have drawn the attention of the whole world and the German people to Hitler's atrocities." After the war, he defended himself by saying that it was better for Jews to be killed than to die meaningfully. You get the impression that this attitude surprises even fervent admirers like Mr. Fisher, but Gandhi is just telling the truth. If you're not prepared to kill yourself, then you have to always be prepared that someone will lose their lives in some other way. When he called for nonviolent resistance to the Japanese invasion in 1942, he acknowledged that it could have killed millions of people.

(1) Sanskrit for "clinging to the truth," i.e., "upholding the truth."

At the same time, it is reasonable to think that Gandhi, after all, was born in 1869, that he did not understand the nature of totalitarianism, and that he saw everything from the experience of his struggle against the British government. The important point here is not that England treated him patiently, but that he was always able to attract the attention of the public. We can see from the quote above that he believes in "arousing the whole world," which is only possible if the world has the opportunity to hear what you are doing. It is hard to imagine gandhi's approach in a country where opponents of the current regime will never appear again after they disappear late at night. Without a free press and the right to assemble, he cannot do this by merely appealing to foreign public opinion, but by launching a mass movement and even letting your opponents know your intentions. Is there a figure like Gandhi in Russia right now? If anything, what did he accomplish? The Russian masses could only practice the idea of civil disobedience at the same time, even if at that time, according to the history of famine in Ukraine, this did not work. Let us suppose, however, that nonviolent resistance against the Government of one's own country is effective, or that opposition to the occupying Power is valid, and even if to that end, how do you apply it internationally? Gandhi's contradictory remarks about the recent war seem to indicate that he also finds it difficult. For foreign politics, pacifism is either no longer pacifism or it becomes appeasement. Moreover, Gandhi used the very effective assumption in his dealings with individuals that all people are more or less accessible and will respond to generous gestures that need to be seriously discussed. For example, when you're dealing with lunatics, this isn't necessarily true. Then the question becomes: Who is sane? Was Hitler sane? Isn't the whole culture of one country, measured by the standards of another culture, likely or mentally sound? And, in terms of the feelings you can measure as a whole, is there a clear correlation between an act of generosity and a friendly response? Is gratitude a factor in international politics?

These and similar issues need to be discussed, and urgently need to be discussed, leaving us with little time left before someone presses a button and the rocket starts firing. Whether civilization can withstand another great war seems quite doubtful, and nonviolence as the way out is at least possible. Gandhi probably considered it honestly about the question I have raised above, which is his virtue; and, indeed, he probably discussed most of them in his countless newspaper articles. You may feel that there are many things he does not understand, but you cannot feel that there is something he is afraid to say or think about. I've never been able to feel much for Gandhi, but I don't think he was basically wrong as a political thinker, and I don't think his life was a failure. Curiously, after his assassination, many of his most ardent admirers sadly claimed that he had lived long enough to see his life's efforts in vain, as India was engaged in a civil war that had long been considered one of the inevitable by-products of the transfer of power. But Gandhi's lifelong commitment was not to appease hostility between Hindus and Muslims. His main political goal – a peaceful end to British rule – has finally been achieved. As is common, the facts about them are always intertwined. On the one hand, Britain left India without World War I, something that few observers would have predicted a year ago. On the other hand, this was done by a Labour government, and it is certain that a Conservative government, especially one led by Churchill, would have reacted differently. But to what extent was it due to Gandhi's personal influence if by 1945 there was a large part of public opinion in Britain sympathetic to India's independence? And if India and Britain can finally achieve good friendly relations (which is possible), will it be partly due to Gandhi's tenacious insistence on fighting without resentment and even purify the political air? The rise of his prestige can also be seen in the fact that some people have thought of asking such questions. You may feel, as I do, an aesthetically repulsive to Gandhi, you may object to the elevation of him to the status of a saint (incidentally, he himself never demanded this), you may also object to the saint as an ideal, and therefore feel that Gandhi's basic goal is anti-human and reactionary: but how clean he is to see him merely as a politician and to compare him to other political leaders of our time!

January 1949 "Party See Review"

Selected from orwell's Collected Writings, edited by Dong Leshan, China Radio and Television Publishing House, 1997

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