Gandhi in age of violence
EVERY year around this time when we celebrate Mahatma Gandhi’s birth anniversary, a disturbing question begins to haunt me: Can we do something about the all-pervading violence we perpetuate and experience in the world we live in? After all, what is the meaning of garlanding Gandhi’s statue at Raj Ghat, if we refuse to move towards ahimsa and peace?
What is the meaning of garlanding Gandhi’s statue at Raj Ghat, if we refuse to move towards ahimsa & peace?
We continue to normalise and even sanctify violence, even though we suffer — physically, existentially and culturally. True, we evolved and progressed, say, from slavery and feudalism to capitalism and modern socialism. And the growing awareness of human rights also helped us to sharpen our creative agency, democratise our consciousness, and resist oppressive institutions like caste and patriarchy. No wonder, the age of modernity is often seen to be the age of freedom. Yet, the journey of history is never linear. Although modernity enriched us, we experienced the worst form of violence in our times — from the horror of fascism to devastating wars. In fact, far from eradicating violence, modernity has made it all-pervading, and at times, subtle and seductive.
Think of the intensity of psychic violence implicit in this hyper-competitive age. As social Darwinism, or the doctrine of the ‘survival of the fittest’ is considered to be a token of smartness, we are becoming warriors with inflated or wounded egos. The burden of the ego (the notorious notion that I am my university degree; I am my salary and property; I am my official position; or I am what I buy and possess) is the negation of reciprocity, empathy and dialogue. If everyone is a competitor to be defeated, how can there be peace, love or art of compassionate listening? From schools to universities to workplaces, we are learning this technique of becoming exhibitionist, aggressive and egotistic. Be harsh, go ahead, defeat others, remain perpetually restless, and run and run for a mythical success! This one-dimensional existence is nothing but a form of violence.
Of course, this psychic violence is deeply related to what modern techno-capitalism has done to us. We are all commodities with price tags; we cannot see beyond instrumental and strategic relationships. Everything is a ‘resource’ to be used, manipulated and modulated for a calculative and utilitarian goal. A tree is a resource; a river is a resource; and even a friend is a resource. While the climate crisis is the logical consequence of this instrumental reasoning of techno-capitalism or reckless manipulation of natural resources, the growing loneliness or inner emptiness is a price we pay for participating in this rat race. While there is darkness and raw violence in ghettoised urban slums, the inhabitants in spectacular gated communities, despite club houses and swimming pools, are essentially lonely and spiritually deserted. Money flows; relationships wither away.
Think of the celebration of speed in our times. Our cars are running faster in expressways; our children are running continually — from schools to coaching centres; and despite the popularisation of all sorts of ‘time-saving gadgets’, none of us seems to have the surplus time to meet and nurse an ailing friend, or look at the play of the moon and the floating clouds. The loudness of this hurried existence disrupts what a peaceful mind needs for its own growth — calmness, silence and deep communication.
The irony is that even the religious domain is becoming increasingly violent. Quite often, the champions of secularism lose the ecstasy of the spiritual touch. And while hyper-nationalists reduce religion into an object of divisive identity politics, obnoxious and patriarchal fundamentalists kill the emancipatory potential of the spiritual quest. And the rapidly growing industry of new age gurus is inseparable from the act of packaging, branding and selling diverse techniques of ‘meditation’. From a mere political tool to a marketable commodity, religion is devoid of the religiosity of love and connectedness. In a way, it would not be wrong to say that the world we live in is characterised by instrumental politics, militant nationalism, religious fundamentalism, technological domination, Orwellian surveillance, seductive consumerism, war and militarism. It is a terribly violent world.
Is there anyone who listens to Gandhi anymore? Gandhi’s ahimsa or satyagraha was not just a mode of resistance against the colonial empire; nor was it merely a strategic act. He wanted us to realise that a peaceful and non-violent social order would require a new being enriched by ‘soul force’, the practice of non-possessiveness or austerity, the spirit of sarvodaya or the ethic of care. The ‘satanic’ civilisation that intensifies greed, dissociates us from nature and the garland of relationships in the local community, and denies the ethos of self-reliance is bound to intensify violence and cause alienation. Likewise, Gandhi’s religiosity — a creative blend of nishkama karma and redemptive power of love — enabled him to unite the political and the spiritual, or meditative calmness and active socio-political engagement. Possibly, the age we live in does not really take Gandhi seriously. It seems to have transformed him into a mere statue.
Yet, as Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh used to say, you cannot kill the likes of Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. They pleaded for loving kindness, dialogue and reconciliation. In a world brutalised by market fundamentalism as well as militaristic nationalism, some of us — pacifists and environmentalists, pedagogues and teachers, communitarian socialists and spiritual seekers — have not yet lost the dream of a humane, ecologically sustainable, egalitarian and peaceful world. And possibly, in the process of undertaking this politico-spiritual journey, we would keep the spirit of Gandhi alive.
