The Spiritual Basis Of Satyagraha

By K. M. Munshi

Gandhi and Truth

Gandhi is too near us in time to enable us to judge him from the perspective of history and human thought. Patriots may call him “Father of the Nation”; historians may call him the “Liberator of India”. However, it must not be forgotten that he was a Mahatma in the line of the great men who have stood, fought and suffered for vindicating the moral and spiritual values against the forces of barbarism.

The shifting code of behaviour accepted by one age or one civilization had little appeal for him. He stood for the supremacy of the eternal Moral Order, of which the prophets had spoken and the poets had sung. His achievements were all the more notable because he lived and worked in an age which, by and large, ignores God and scoffs at morals in the matter of social and political activities. He did not only stand for the Moral Order; he tried to translate it into his individual life. He came to pledge himself progressively not only to non-violence and truth but also non-stealing, non-waste and non-possession-ahimsa, satya, asteya, brahmacharya and aparigraha-described by Patanjali in the Yoga Sutra as the mahavratas (the great vows), which a yogi has to observe regardless of time and place.

Truth was God to Gandhi. “Once I believed that God is Truth”, he wrote once. “I now believe that Truth is God”.

“God as Truth”, he wrote, “has been for me a treasure beyond price. May He be so to every one of us.” His whole life was an experiment in living for truth, a mighty effort to weld thought, word and deed into a unit. His achievements, great though they were, were only a partial expression of this effort.

Living by Truth in this sense led him to two far-reaching conclusions: first, pursuit of Truth in the individual life can only be the keystone of enduring creative activity; secondly, whosoever seeks to realise Truth must be ready to back it up with his life. To use the beautiful words of Romain Rolland: “A man’s first duty is to be himself, to remain himself even at the cost of life.”

Truth, thus viewed, is the only spiritual charter for free souls. It is the assertion of the dignity of man. It is a revolt against regimentation of life; against passive subordination to dogmas, social, political or religious; against the despotic unity which is being imposed by the political and social theories of modern Europe which deify the state. At the same time, Gandhi felt that living for one's truth may become unethical unless it is harnessed to non-violence. It was this alchemy of welding truth with non-violence which led him to forge the weapon of satyagraha (literally “insistence on truth”).

If one decides to stand up for the truth as one sees it and backs it up with one’s life, one must also accept the limitations of non-violence and abjure the use of brute force. If this is done, the technique acquires a new edge and a fresh meaning. The use of satyagraha carries with it many and varied implications. The man who adopts the weapon has to direct it against the evil, not the evil-doer, a very difficult thing to do without a continuous process of self-purification. At the same time, he has to see that it does not inflict violence on the other side, but is content to invite suffering on himself. Suffering, deliberately invited, in support of a cause which one considers righteous, naturally purges the mind of the satyagrahi of ill-will and removes the element of bitterness from the antagonist.

Satyagraha

The efficacy of satyagraha depends upon the tenacity to resist evil which, while it abjures force, develops in the satyagrahi the faculty to face all risks cheerfully. Thus, the emphasis is transferred from aggression by force to resistance by tenacity. It is only when these requirements are met that non-violent satyagraha becomes a mighty weapon of resistance both in the struggle for freedom as well as in self-realisation. The results are reached by slow degrees, it is true, but the resultant bitterness is short-lived.

Satyagraha in some form or the other was adopted by various sets of people at different times in history. But it was left to Gandhi to perfect the technique by which mass resistance could succeed in achieving enduring results without resorting to force and without leaving a legacy of bitterness behind. The technique acquires great importance in the modern world when instruments of coercion and destruction are concentrated in the hands of a few rulers in every country. Those who serve the cause of freedom or collective welfare have no other efficacious weapon left, except satyagraha. We see this illustrated in the satyagraha offered by the Negroes in U.S.A.

Satyagraha as a social force is not a negative creed of the pacifists, a pious wish, a faith devoid of passion. It is an activity resulting from an effective will to vindicate the supremacy of the Moral Order. In the hour of danger, it demands the highest form of heroism as well as self-control.

Satyagraha, as Gandhi often said, is a weapon of the strong, not a cover for the cowardice of the weak. As he himself recognised, in the practical affairs of men there may be occasions when non-violence may have to be tempered with the defensive use of violence.

Non-violence is absolute in principle; but on occasions, as the one which presented itself to Arjuna in the Bhagavad-Gita, it has to be a mental attitude, not an absolute refusal to resist violence by violent methods.

The power of satyagraha lies in the satyagrahi’s firm determination to uphold his truth at the cost of his life in a spirit of humility. This power only comes to a satyagrahi when he acquires the faith that the cause he fights for is God-given. This aspect of satyagraha was thus expressed by Gandhi: “But who am I? I have no strength save what God gives me. I have no authority over my countrymen save the purely moral. If he holds me to be a sure instrument for the spread of non-violence in place of the awful violence now ruling the earth, He will give me the strength and show me the way. My greatest weapon is more prayer. The cause of peace is, therefore, in God’s good hands. Nothing can happen but His will expressed in His eternal, changeless Law which is He.” “God is a living presence to me. I am surer of His existence than of the fact that you and I are sitting in this room. I may live without air and water but not without Him.” “You may pluck out my eyes, but that cannot kill me. But blast my belief in God and I am dead.” “Whatever striking things I have done in life, I have not done prompted by reason but by instinct, I would say God."

Gandhi had none of the sanctions which position, power and wealth give; the only sanction he possessed proceeded from his nearness to God. It is this which gave him an authority over the hearts of men, an authority which was spiritual and moral. To a world dominated by what Aldous Huxley calls “the false doctrine of totalitarian anthropocentrism and the pernicious ideas and practices of nationalistic pseudo-mysticism”, Gandhi gave a new technique of spirituality in action.

On the faculty of the University of Wisconsin there is a psychiatrist, Dr Carl R. Rogers, who has spent many years giving counsel to people of many ages who are in personal emotional or mental trouble and cannot seem to solve their problems unaided. As a result of his professional experience he has come to believe that nobody will change his habits of thinking, feeling or acting until something happens to change his own picture or concept of himself. Other things being equal, for example, a student will give up preparing to become a journalist and begin to study for the law only when he can see himself as a practising lawyer. A thief will abandon that way of life only if he can see himself as happier in a different way of life and know how he can attain it. For most people, the matter of self-regard is of primary importance. Dr Rogers’s method of treating the person who comes to him for help is not the usual way of most mental physicians, of asking questions and then giving advice. So, he just suggests that the patient start to tell his story and explain his difficulties. Dr Rogers merely listens; makes no comments; tries never to judge by word, manner or tone of voice; offers no advice. Once in a while at a favourable moment he repeats something that the patient has just said, perhaps rephrasing it slightly. Suppose the patient is a boy with a very domineering father. The boy has told Dr Rogers a number of instances of that sort of domestic tyranny he has experienced, and finally, overcome with emotion, the boy bursts out, “I hate my father!” Dr Rogers might then calmly say, “You say that you have finally come to feel that you hate your father”. The boy feels relieved by his confession, but wants to justify his feeling and so talks on. Later there will be another moment in which Dr Rogers repeats a statement by the boy, perhaps this time a happier statement. In this manner Dr Rogers holds up a mirror, as it were, to the patient, and lets him see himself in, substantially his own words, but uttered as an echo by another person. The mirror is the repetition of the patient’s own statement, reflected back to the patient without condemnation or approval or comment of any kind.

Dr Rogers finds that by this means the patient comes to see himself objectively, and the patient then can make his own comparisons more coolly, and gradually sees how to find his way out of his difficulties. Dr Rogers helps the patient thus to help himself. The first step has to be a change in the patient’s own picture of himself. This is an interesting example of the power of the self-regarding attitude.

I would like to suggest that among the many aspects of satyagraha, it may be regarded as a sort of mirror held up to the opponent by the satyagrahi, and that this would be true of both individual and mass satyagraha. Furthermore, such a mirror seems to help the violent opponent to “cure” himself for some of the same reasons that Dr Rogers’s method helps his patients to cure themselves. Let me elaborate on this idea.

Biologically speaking, man is a single species. There are, of course, different races, nations, tribes, castes and religions, and different individuals, but the similarities between people are deeper, wider, stronger, more enduring and more important than the differences. There is first a biological unity among people of all kinds. A man of any race, nation, caste or religion may marry a woman of any other race, nation, caste or religion and have children by her. Secondly, the young of human beings have a longer period of helplessness and learning than the young of any other species. This is what gives man his enormous power of learning. Thirdly, there is a physiological unity. We all have the same bony structure, nerves, blood circulation, lungs, heart and digestive organs.

If any person of any race, nation, caste, or religion has an infected appendix, the surgeon operates him exactly the same way regardless of any superficial differences. If an Eskimo gets typhoid fever, the physician treats him just the same way as he treats a Negro who has typhoid fever. Fourthly, all people have some sort of language by means of which they cooperate and find meaning in life. All people have some sort of culture, some sort of tools, some sort of dress; they use some sort of symbols, believe in some sort of myths, and base their lives on some sort of assumptions. All people, regardless of superficial differences, have emotions - love, anger, fear, respect, hope, etc. These emotions may be called forth by different sights, events, or actions, but all people without exception, have emotions. All people have minds and use them. Their concepts, the contents of their minds, may differ, but thinking is common to all.

None of these considerations contradicts any belief as to the essential spiritual nature of mankind. But some people can see these aforesaid elements of human unity more easily, clearly and surely than they envisage spiritual unity.

Growing out of these several elements of human unity, we find that man is a gregarious and social creature, and we are at all times aware of and sensitive to the attitudes of other people around us. This awareness is not lessened in times of conflict, but is then rather enhanced. We are always eager for the approval, if possible, of our fellowmen. Writ large, this is the reason for the enormous amount of time, thought and work devoted to propaganda by all governments. Another recognition of this fact is the development within the past twenty years of “public relations” men employed by large corporations and even by universities, to make public explanations and propaganda for their employers. In private life we adhere to the customs of clothing, speech, food and festivals of our own social group, race or nation in order to retain their approval or at least tolerance.

When a conflict between two groups develops and gains enough intensity so that one group employs violence and, let us suppose, the other group offers satyagraha, the voluntary suffering of the satyagrahis is an appeal for recognition by all parties including the spectators, of the unity of all men. The suffering of the satyagrahis is, as it were, a mirror held up to the violent party, in which the violent ones come gradually to see themselves as violating that human unity and its implications. They see themselves as others see them. The attitude of the onlookers is another mirror. The satyagrahis do not shout at the violent party, “Now look at yourselves! We'll make you realize how unjust you are, what villains you are.” No, there is no such coercion by the satyagrahis.

It is the very human nature of the violent attackers themselves that compels their attention to what happens before them. They cannot escape for long the recognition of their common human unity. They will try to escape from or hide themselves from that unity, but as long as they are alive they cannot dodge the fact that they are of the same species as the satyagrahis. Nor can they blink the implications of that fact. The voluntary suffering of the satyagrahis is so unusual, so dramatic, so surprising, so wonder-provoking. Wonder naturally evokes curiosity and attention. And the desire of the violent party for approval of the onlookers draws attention to the contrast between the behaviour of the violent opponents and the behaviour of the satyagrahis. When the violent opponents see this contrast in the mirror which the situation has provided, they begin to get a different opinion of themselves. Then they sense the disapproval of the onlookers, and wanting social approval, they begin to search for ways to save their faces and yet change their actions so as to win that approval. This process is now taking place in the Southern States of the United States. Righting an ancient wrong takes time. It took Gandhi twenty-eight years to win freedom for India, and it will take time for the correction of the racial injustices in the United States. But all social processes move faster now than fifteen years ago, so we live in high hope that the non-violent resistance of the American Negroes will soon win their struggle.

All this suggests that satyagraha operates at a level deeper than nationality, politics, military power, book education or socio-economic ideology. It is a process working in the very elemental human nature of mankind as a biological species. As satyagraha becomes more widely employed, it will, partly by virtue of this capacity as a mirror, help in the development of man’s self-consciousness and confidence in his own capacities.