Why we fantasise about Gandhi

Residents look at burnt-out vehicles following communal violence in Delhi's Shiv Vihar area. Pic/AFP

I began to fantasise about Mahatma Gandhi as I saw houses and mosques gutted in the communal violence of northeast Delhi, and heard despairing voices narrate the story of horror through which they had lived. Gandhi swamped my imagination, as he has of many, because his life prescribes a course of action in a scenario in which police connive with murderous mobs to devastate an urban sprawl, as was largely the case in Delhi last month.

Gandhi's prescription entails combating communal violence without arms. It implies that the unarmed defender must be willing to die before those whom he or she protects are mowed down. This display of moral courage will dissuade assailants from pursuing their darkled intent - or so Gandhi believed.

We believe in the redemptive power of ahimsa because Gandhi showed, by his own example, its immense possibilities. His very presence at the sites of communal violence repaired broken communitarian relationships, as was the case in Noakhali, which he criss-crossed alone in the weeks after a horrific bloodbath there in 1946. He restored peace to a rioting Calcutta before India's Independence on August 15, 1947. The recurrence of violence in that city was brought to a miraculous halt by his fast unto death the next month, and then in Delhi in January 1948.

These images of Gandhi are revived in our collective imagination every time a city or town plunges into mayhem. Yet the prescription to die for others, or to uphold truth, is difficult for most to follow, as Gandhi found to his shock in 1918.

A year before, in 1917, there had been a massive crop failure in Kheda district, Gujarat, but the British government refused to either suspend or waive revenue collection. This prompted Gandhi to organise, in March 1918, what is now famously known Kheda Satyagraha. The farmers took the pledge that they would not pay revenue and willingly accept the punishment meted out to them, and would not resist even the confiscation of their land. The satyagraha compelled the government, after several weeks of confrontation, to suspend revenue collection.

Yet Gandhi's belief in the courage of his followers to suffer was shattered as he set about, in June 1918, to recruit five lakh soldiers to fight alongside the British Army in World War I. In a speech in Gujarat, Gandhi said, "Our mightiest weapon, satyagraha, is always with us. But he cannot be a satyagrahi who is afraid of death." Kheda barely responded. A crowd of 8,000 in Patna melted away as soon as he asked people to offer their services for the Great War.

A disappointed Gandhi wrote to CF Andrews, the principal of St Stephen's College, "When friends told me here [Kheda] that passive resistance was taken up by the people as a weapon of the weak, I laughed at the libel… But they were right and I was wrong." He concluded that the majority of participants in the Kheda Satyagraha did so "because they were too weak to undertake methods of violence" and willingly face the consequences of their action, such as "walk to the gallows, or stand a shower of bullets."

Kheda's farmers, from Gandhi's perspective, chose non-violent resistance over a violent one because they lacked the courage to die. It is not an instinct in us to die for others, especially when there is no hope of gains accruing from undertaking the risk, which is what confronting armed mobs non-violently demands of us. Although there are always inspiring stories of individuals saving the lives of those who do not belong to their community, we mostly hope a public personality would emulate Gandhi and magically stop a riot from spreading.

There is no leader in India who commands the moral authority and stature of Gandhi. We forget that the courageous Gandhi we fantasise about did not display his magical power suddenly. He mastered the technique of satyagraha over decades, constantly thinking and practising it.

In Noakhali, for instance, Gandhi said, "Self-defence can be violent or non-violent. I have always advised and insisted on non-violent defence. But I recognise that it has to be learnt like violent defence. It requires a different training from that which is required for violent defence. Therefore, if the capacity for non-violent self-defence is lacking, there need be no hesitation in using violent means."

Asked by a local Congress person whether he would be guilty of communalism in case he retaliated on behalf of aggrieved Hindus, Gandhi said, "You will be guilty of communalism, if you sided with Hindus right or wrong. I would expect you to defend Muslims if you found them molested by Hindus."

It has never been our project to organise non-violent defence against mobs which, under political patronage, swoop down on people like vultures. Our fantasy to have a Gandhi amidst us reflects our helplessness, and the improbability that we will muster the courage to die for others, that, too, without resorting to violence in self-defence.

The writer is a senior journalist

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