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Showing posts with label Gandhi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gandhi. Show all posts

Sep 10, 2019

Bijay Kant Dubey's "Gandhi: A Poetic Drama"


Written by 
Bijay Kant Dubey

Removal of The Gandhi Statue From The Ghana University Campus (A Poetic Drama)
                                              (A One-act Play)

Background is the scenery of the historical poetic drama opening with it, a mode to introduce to the audience, the readers giving a background of all that happened or to take place and in Background lies it Premonition, Nightmare as the latter is just a realization on the part of Gandhi. First, Background was put forth as for introducing the play, but later on the Chorus was assigned with and allotted to the role.

Scene I
The Chorus As The Voices of Prediction And Prophecy:
In this age of post-truth evaluation,
Post-truth evaluation,
How to prevent them
If the values keep changing?

Again, The Same Choric Voices:
Ladies and gentlemen,
We are here,
Here
To listen them,
Listen them.

The Same Choric People:
What they say,
What they do,
Hush, hush up,
Silence please, silence, let me, let me hear!

(In three turns and poses and postures to predict as prophecies, giving ears to whispers and mutterings, chuckling and laughing to give an impetus to enactment, staging of the Gandhian drama of life.)

II

Background
Premonition: 
My days are nearer,
Maybe will not here tomorrow
As this life of man too is as thus
For a brief stay comes he here,
Goes away from here.

In the nightmare
Saw I someone approaching me
With the pistol into the hands,
Bowing me with folded hands,
Why is this nightmare,
I don’t know.

(And the news spreading,
 Gandhi lies it assassinated,
Gandhi assassinated by Nathuram Godse
Who also knew it
That he was assassinating a great soul.

At Birla Mandir
Lay his body still,
The earthly remains of the great man,
The old man at prayers
But the things took a turn
As thus, drastically.

With the words,
Hey, Ram,
Passed he away, breathed his last,
Hey, Ram on the samadhi of his
At Rajghat.)

    III

(A shift in scene. Gandhian images of different pensive moods of reflection made to speak with the Gandhian look-alike personae or posing as Gandhi reminding of Gandhi Jayanti celebrations, birthday anniversary celebrations falling on the 2nd of October each year.)

Gandhi Bewildered And At A Loss (With the faint Image of his):
Again, again want they,
They to assassinate my character,
For what I did,
What I said it then!

Gandhi In Remorse(A Penitent Image):
O God, where are You,
What are You seeing,
What they saying,
O God, God…

God, The Voice of God As An Oracle:
Let them, let them, my son,
My son,
Let them, let them say
As theirs is the day!

(Gandhi feeling disturbed, blamed as for the misinterpretation, misanalysis. Gandhi looking sad and morose.) 

Scene IV

Well-wishers (Inclusive of Some Ghanaian And Indian Voices Or The Winds Hinting It):
Gandhi, Gandhi,
Get away, get away from here
As the campus is brewing with,
Brewing with trouble and tension
Fomenting for sometime.

The Voice of Gandhi:
The Voice of Gandhi,
Gandhi speaking,
Why, why, my dear,
Why, why, for what?

Well-wishers:
Gandhi, Gandhi,
Gandhi, you my Sir,
They are coming,
Coming?

The Voice of Gandhi:
Who, who my boys, girls,
My sons and daughters,
Who, who they
Coming, coming to?

Well-wishers:
They are coming,
Coming,
The guys
To dismantle you, dismantle you.

The Voice of Gandhi:
Why, why are they,
Let them, let them
If they want to,
Want to.

V

(After the trouble being fomented for quite a lot of time, the tension brewing, the radio broadcasts and T.V. news-breaks, the media personalities and the anchormen visiting the campus as for an opinion with regard to the statue installation and the aftermath of it, to gauge how the intensity of painted feeling of protest which a simple statue can provoke.)

Good Anchorman, Media Fellow
(With the microphone):
Lo, I am here,
I have reached the spot
To know the opinion
Of the boys and girls studying!

Good Anchorman Addressing the Passing Students:
Will you,
Will anybody of you
Tell about the trouble
Brewing it for sometime?

One Girl Student:
Yah, I shall
Though I do not know too much,
Bu have heard the people saying him
And the Indian independence.

One Boy Student:
Yeah, he was a great man
Who did so much for India
As far have I
From the teachers.

Anchorman Addressing Another:
Have you heard
That this old guy
Has anything derogatory
For the African people?

Another Girl Student:
No, I don’t know,
Know about it,
Know about it,
All about that.

Scene VI

(The Chorus as a choric voice or an assemblage of people reflecting upon from time to time with regard to what to take place, happen or occur in the future course of action or to enlighten upon otherwise as a hint, gesture tendered.)

The Chorus As The Notes of Dissent Sensing:
Lo, the storm is gathering
In the form of the dissent,
Dissent against the icon, the scion
Though we not against!

Good Judgement:
What, what,
What did you,
What your murmuring,
Muttering?

The Same Chorus:
Nothing, nothing
Did we,
Did we against the things
Phenomenal?

VII
(Premonition as the Refection and Musing of Gandhi ordaining it with its ruminations over and the Image of Gandhi flashing over. The Statue of Gandhi feeling discomfort in the midst of trouble brewing, fomented. The Image of Gandhi may be as shadow of Gandhi or a tiny speck of that something as photographically. It is not that Gandhi saying, but supposed to be the photos, images of his saying with the deigns and temperaments of their makers, be they makers of sculptures or images as they too are Gandhians, Gandhists, not less than as they continue to make after proper reading and assimilation of thoughts and ideas and images.)

The Image of Gandhi:
The image of Gandhi
Flashing upon
And they,
They holding meetings under the shadow of.

The Chorus:

They, they holding meetings,
Meetings unaware of,
Unaware of
Under the shadow of Gandhi.

The Chorus:
Let us, let us hide
Lest they see us,
See us hiding ,
Hiding and conspiring.

VIII

(The complainants, suited and booted coming, coming to hold meetings, the notes of dissent to be given approval in the form of resolutions drafted and the sub-committee to approve of; they coming with the petition to be handed over, to be submitted to the good office of the Hon’ble V.C.to be forwarded to be the Govt. as for relocation.)

One Complainant:
No, no, he has said
Something
Quite derogatory,
Derogatory about the Africans.

Another Complainant:
The copy of the text,
The text is with us
To see and verify,
What he has?

Another Complainant:
Why shall we,
Shall we the statue
Of an Indian leader
In the African campus?

Another Complainant:
Are there no leaders
In Africa,
In Ghana
Whose statue we cannot?

Another Complainant:
He did for India,
What did he for Ghana,
So why to install,
Install the statue of?


Pol. Sc. Prof. As Diplomat:
No, no, how can it be,
How can it be so
Gandhi anti-African,
Anti-Ghanaian?

Diplomat:
One who lived in South Africa
Fighting for justice
How can,
How can be branded so at once?

Diplomat:
He was not,
Was not a racist,
Not, not at all,
Gandhi.

Lady Journalist:
No, no, I cannot approve of
That he was a racist
As I myself loved to love
And like his theories
And went to see his statue personally.

IX
The Chorus:
They have resolved,
Resolved in the sub-committee meetings
As for the removal.

The Voice for the Govt.:
People, people
As the critics must understand,
Understand the compulsions of the times,
People too evolve.

The Chorus:
But who,
Who hears the good counsel
If they want not,
Not to hear the good words?

Good Voice:
Was Gandhi a good man,
Was Gandhi a bad man,
How to say,
How to say in this age of post-truths?

The Chorus:
But the professors,
Professors and lecturers not upon,
Bent upon brining the statue down,
Nothing, but the statue of his.

They going on a signature campaign,
Threatening a strike,
Demonstrating and protesting against
The Gandhi statue in the campus,
Campus of Ghana University.

I do not think
All are interested in bringing it down,
All cannot be of the same opinion,
Some may definitely opinion,
If it is, let it be, what harm is it going to do?

X

Campaigners (With pen and paper):
We shall continue to campaign,
Campaign for the removal,
Removal of the statue,
O Secretary, President of the committee,
Let us, let us be with!

Again, They Saying (Hand-in-hand, Shoulder-over-shoulder):
We the campaigners,
Campaigners on a signature trail
For removing the Indian statue
From our native campus.

Again, The Campaigners:
Brother, O Brother,
Sign you,
Sign you, here,
O Sir, O Madam!

Our campaign is against
The so-called Mahatma
Who is actually not,
But a simple man.

The Voice of Reasoning Contradicting:
No, no, say you not,
Say you not so,
It is bad, bad,
Very bad to say so,
You the people!

(The Campaigners looking white-collar people come and go away with the pen and paper to get it endorsed and signed, initialed by more and more people though many of the Ghanaians know their tricks, not on their side. They are just a few after their vested interests, politicking to come to the fore, to be in the limelight. And finally Gandhi will bail them out. I shall not see, you will but see it.)

XI

Campaigners Joined In by Protesters:
Gandhi, Gandhi will have to go,
Go out,
Our protests will continue
Till it is removed.

If not, we shall, shall blacken
The statue of Gandhi,
Take off the specs
Stealing from.

The Joker As The Ragged Man Wandering Around:
No, no, do you it not,
As live I near him,
My friends, if take you off
The specs,
How will, how will an old man?

The Protesters (One Or two of Them):
Who hears you,
Hears you, the mad man,
O you rag picker,
It is not your business to see!

The Ragged Man:
O my compatriots, what did I,
Said I rightly
If take you off the specs
Of an old man,
How will he see?

Do not think yourself
A patriot of Ghana,
I too am a patriot,
A freedom fighter,
A patriot.

The protesters:
What is he saying,
Saying,
Ho, ho,
O what is he?

The Ragged Man:
Ho, ho,
I am not saying,
Which you are but,
Ho, ho!

The Protesters:
O, who hears  mad a man,
A mad man babbling,
What does eh about
The statue?

The Ragged Man:
What do you, my friend,
I a man of Ghana,
You too a man of Ghana
And the old man an old man,
Off where which but I don’t know it!

And the thing that I am mad,
I am not, but you
Debating over
A cemented thing,
Dong politics.

I too a son of Mother Ghana,
You too a son of Mother Ghana,
Yours is not the word of mine
And mine is not yours,
Why to impose upon, my friend?

XII
(If the petition is placed before with the make-believe statements distorted and proven in favour of then what to reason as there lies no scope for debating and discussing the matter. What can the Hon’ble Chair do if the law is taken into?)

Waiter:
May I come in, Sir,
May I?
(The door is opened
And he enters
To place before the files.)

The Hon’ble Council Members:
Let us peruse,
Peruse the papers
Of complaint,
The petition signed by.

O.K., nothing to say
And debate,
Had it been,
Would have been good
As it is in a corner.

If we like it not
Remove we
With respect
Keeping in view good gestures.

(The Hon’ble Chair without stoking the controversy refers it to the Govt. for an understandable better disposal and relocation and the Govt. which goes not by loose sentiments and is run by able persons and administrators, diplomats and ambassadors and secretaries think about the modalities of relocation and shifting the statue. The meeting ends and the Chair moves out to the Ministry of External Affairs to relay to about the come out to work out a plan for shifting it outside the campus.)

XIII

The Wailing Winds:
Rustling by, whispering,
Rustling and murmuring,
Mahatma Gandhi ki,
Mahatma Gandhi, amar rahe, amar rahe
Taking to Rajghat.

Taking to Nathuram Godse
Who shot Gandhi,
Gandhi
After saluting him
As knew it
That he was assassinating a great soul.

Protesters (shouting slogans with):
The statue must fall, must fall,
Gandhi has to go, has to go
From this African campus,
From this.

(The Protesters as cheerleaders cheering the crowds, the campaigners with badges distributing sweets as for the statue of Gandhi to be removed.)

XIV

The Last Part

(The campus full of hectic activity and chaos, hullabaloo and pandemonium. The cranes have been called in with the earth-moving machines to lift it with the drivers, operators, masons and contractors, university officials and govt. men to supervise it.)

Masons Discussing:
Why was the statue installed
If it had be recalled,
Removed from?
Well, wages our concern,
Not the bone of contention.

Women Gathered Around (as the representative of Mother Ghana):
Great Soul, forgive you,
Forgive and forget it
What they are doing,
Forgive you
What they are ignorantly!

Winds Sombre And Sad Wailing:
Yah, the moments are somber,
Grave like the ones
Felt during the time of
The assassination of Lincoln!

Women Gathered Around (as the representative voice of Mother Ghana):
Great Man, they do not know,
Do not know
What they are,
They are doing!

A Few Illiterate Women:
Even in the house,
The young ones care not for the old,
What to say to
About the old man’s statue?

In this modern age
When we talk of old man homes,
Old age rehabilitation,
What to say about this man
In specs?

The Ragged Man:
The world calls me a ragged man
But I know it,
Know it
What they do not.

Where shall I go,
Go
If the statue is removed
The place of my refuge,
Shelter?

(The Ragged Man goes to the site, asks the masons and labourers from uprooting the statue. Later on, the security staff of the varsity campus come to take a hold of.)



Security Staff:
O maddie, abstain you from
Showing the abnormal behavior,
Let them, let them be doing,
The work they have to do.

The Ragged Man:
Where shall I sit,
Sit on the campus
To repose in,
Seek refuge and shelter
From the wide world
To think and ponder over philosophically?

(The cameramen take the snaps of and the Ragged Man lapses into the things of his own self, reclining and brooding in the aftermath of Gandhi, bringing out the books, the New Testament, Sermon on the Mount portion, The Murder In The Cathedral by T.S.Eliot and Milton’s Paradise Lost and those too the pale page old and used books received from an old newspaper collector. The Ragged Man smiling and talking to himself.)

No Man:
Gandhi going,
Going from the Ghana Univ. Campus,
The Statue of Gandhi lifted on
And placed on a cart.

Post-truth Phenomenon(As The Critic And The Judge):
In this age of post-truth evaluation,
Judgement,
What to judge
And how to judge?

Who can but say,
Was Gandhi good,
Was he bad
As the things keep changing?

Oct 21, 2018

Gandhi for the Post-Truth Age

For Original click the link below:


Gandhi for the Post-Truth Age
The icon’s legacy is no longer secure, but he anticipated much about our current political moment.
By Pankaj Mishra

Inequality, Gandhi believed, left Western democracies open to totalitarianism.

In 2015, in South Africa, where Mohandas Gandhi lived from 1893 to 1914, a statue of him was defaced by protesters. The following year, the University of Ghana agreed to remove Gandhi’s statue from its campus, after an online campaign with the (misspelled) hashtag #Ghandimustfall charged the Indian leader with racism against black Africans. Compared with other recent targets of political iconoclasts—stalwarts of the Confederacy and Cecil Rhodes—Gandhi seems an unlikely symbol of racial arrogance. Nelson Mandela claimed that Gandhi’s tactics offered “the best hope for future race relations”; Martin Luther King, Jr., held Gandhi up as a model; decades before that, black activists such as Adam Clayton Powell, Sr., and Benjamin Mays were enthralled by the phenomenon of an Indian leading people of color in the campaign against British colonialism in India. Yet Gandhi’s legacy is no longer secure even in his own country. The Indian Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, cites V. D. Savarkar, a far-right Hindu supremacist who was accused of involvement in Gandhi’s assassination, in 1948, as his ideological mentor. A portrait of Savarkar, who loathed Gandhi for being too soft on minorities, hangs in the Indian Parliament building.

Even some left-leaning writers have recently argued that Gandhi must fall. In “The South African Gandhi” (2015), Ashwin Desai and Goolam Vahed depict him as a pro-British lawyer, who worked within the country’s white-supremacist politics to promote his Indian compatriots at the expense of black South Africans. In “The Doctor and the Saint,” Arundhati Roy indicts Gandhi for his failure to unequivocally condemn the Hindu caste system, calling him a “Saint of the Status-Quo.” The Marxist critic Perry Anderson, in his scathing account of Indian nationalism, “The Indian Ideology” (2012), charges that Gandhi’s “intellectual development” was “arrested by intense religious belief.”

Some of these reassessments may have been provoked by the halo surrounding Gandhi, which has shone brightly ever since Richard Attenborough’s Oscar-winning bio-pic, in 1982. It was only then that bumper-sticker homilies Gandhi never uttered—“Be the change you wish to see in the world”—were attributed to him. (Donald Trump tweeted one of these fake quotes during his Presidential campaign, in 2016: “First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win.”) As Gandhi disappeared into T-shirts and Apple advertisements, it was easy to forget that this big-eared, cuddly icon of popular culture responded to an unprecedentedly violent and unstable period in human history, beginning with the intensification of imperialism and globalization in the late nineteenth century and continuing through two world wars. “Politics encircle us today like the coil of a snake from which one cannot get out, no matter how much one tries,” Gandhi once said. “I wish therefore to wrestle with the snake.” His prolific writings in that turbulent era inspired thinkers as disparate as W. E. B. Du Bois and Reinhold Niebuhr.

Today, Gandhi’s political thought resonates again. In recent years, many scholars have asserted that he has much to say about the issues that make our present moment so volatile: inequality, resentment, the rise of demagoguery, and the breakdown of democratic governance. In several pioneering books and articles, the Indian thinker Ashis Nandy has presented Gandhi as boldly confronting the “hyper-masculine” political culture of his time, which sanctified “institutionalized violence and ruthless social Darwinism.” Writers such as Ajay Skaria, Shruti Kapila, Uday S. Mehta, Karuna Mantena, and Faisal Devji present a radical figure, who, diverging from the dominant ideologies of liberalism, nationalism, and Marxism, insisted on the need for self-transformation, moral persuasion, and sacrifice. The origins of Gandhi’s world view in Europe’s fin-de-siècle culture are also becoming clearer: Leela Gandhi persuasively links her great-grandfather’s outlook to an antimaterialist tradition that flourished in late-nineteenth-century Britain. She sees him as refashioning democracy, in opposition to a widespread striving for the will to power, into a “spiritual regimen of imperfectionism.”

“Gandhi: The Years That Changed the World, 1914-1948” (Knopf), the second and concluding volume of Ramachandra Guha’s biography, offers a more conventional account. It covers the most widely known part of Gandhi’s life—the four decades, following his South African sojourn, when he emerged as the leader of the Indian freedom movement. Known as the Mahatma (an honorific meaning “great soul”), he became famous worldwide as a practitioner of nonviolent resistance.

Guha’s previous volume established how Gandhi, born in 1869 into a family of senior administrators in the princely states of Western India, went to Britain at the age of nineteen, to train as a lawyer—the first time he had travelled outside his home region. Afterward, in South Africa, working as a lawyer and a community organizer for the country’s Indian population, he lived in near-total isolation from events in British-ruled India, absorbed by his readings in the Bible, Ruskin, and Tolstoy and his experiments in vegetarianism, meditation, and celibacy. Guha claims that Gandhi, in the first four decades of his life, “may never have spoken to a single Indian peasant or worker (or landlord or moneylender) living or working in India.”

The second volume of Guha’s biography, more than a thousand pages long, begins with an account of how Gandhi, returning to India at the age of forty-five, set about familiarizing himself with his country’s realities, especially its great mass of poor people. Initially, Gandhi hoped to work for political reform as a loyal subject of the British Empire. Once he was exposed to the brutal facts of British rule—most notably, the massacre of nearly four hundred unarmed civilians in the city of Amritsar, in 1919—Gandhi turned resolutely anti-imperialist. In 1920, he launched his first nonviolent campaign against the British, and within a few years he had transformed the Indian National Congress, hitherto a party of upper-class Indians, into a vigorous mass movement. In 1930, he achieved international fame with the Salt March, a protest against a British-imposed tax on salt, which catalyzed civil-disobedience campaigns across the nation.

Four years later, however, Gandhi resigned from the Congress, unhappy with its inability to embrace nonviolence not merely as a politically expedient tactic but as a fundamental duty. From then on, he returned only briefly to active politics, most strikingly in 1942, as the head of an anti-British uprising called the Quit India movement. In the last decade and a half of his life, he preferred to focus on building India “from the bottom up”: he fought against the social practice of untouchability; devised methods of pedagogy and sanitation for rural Indians; and promoted spinning, weaving, and other handicrafts as a superior alternative to top-down modernization in a country largely populated by peasants. A day before he was murdered, Guha writes, Gandhi asserted that “the Congress should be disbanded,” since it had “outlived its use.” Far-right Hindu supremacists had always scorned Gandhi for his rejection of conventional politics; they conspired to assassinate him just as he was trying to calm murderous passions partly incited by them.

Guha’s previous volume maintained, in the face of much accumulating evidence, that Gandhi, in his years in South Africa, was “among apartheid’s first opponents.” It would have been more accurate to say that the young and callow Gandhi failed to recognize the necessity of a broader struggle against racial-ethnic supremacism; in 1906, he volunteered as a stretcher-bearer with British forces as they savagely crushed a Zulu uprising. The new volume likewise shows Guha to be admirably industrious in examining multiple archives, and diligent in his mastery of the arcana of Indian politics, but a bit languid in his analyses. Gandhi appears in his account as a symbol of India’s imperilled secular nationalism, whose “ideas on religious pluralism and interfaith harmony speak directly to the world we live and labour in.” This bland do-gooder has little of the “sublime madness” that Niebuhr identified in the man who wrestled with the snake of politics.

Arguing that Gandhi’s stock should rise, Guha writes that he “is still relevant on account of the method of social protest he pioneered.” This is undoubtedly true, attested by the ubiquity of boycotts, strikes, collective vigils, and other techniques that Gandhi pioneered, or practiced, with world-historical results. Activists fighting for the environment, for refugees’ and immigrants’ rights, and against racial discrimination and violence continue to be inspired by satyagraha, Gandhi’s neologism meaning nonviolent direct action. The aim of satyagraha was to arouse the conscience of oppressors and invigorate their victims with a sense of moral agency. Gandhi’s unique mode of defiance, Niebuhr observed as early as 1932, not only works to “rob the opponent of the moral conceit by which he identifies his interests with the peace and order of society.” It also purges the victim’s resentment of the “egoistic element,” producing a purer “vehicle of justice.”

Certainly, Gandhi, the resourceful activist, the impresario of nonviolent resistance, cannot be expunged from history as briskly as his statues. But there is also a case, which Guha does not make, for seeing Gandhi as far more intellectually ingenious. In “The Impossible Indian” (2012), Faisal Devji, the most stimulating of recent writers on Gandhian thought, calls him “one of the great political thinkers of our times”—an assessment not cancelled out by the stringent account of Gandhi’s fads, follies, and absurdities frequently offered by his critics. Far from being a paragon of virtue, the Mahatma remained until his death a restless work in progress. Prone to committing what he called “Himalayan blunders,” he did not lose his capacity to learn from them, and to enlist his opponents in his search for a mutually satisfactory truth.

Satyagraha, literally translated as “holding fast to truth,” obliged protesters to “always keep an open mind and be ever ready to find that what we believed to be truth was, after all, untruth.” Gandhi recognized early on that societies with diverse populations inhabit a post-truth age. “We will never all think alike and we shall always see truth in fragments and from different angles of vision,” he wrote. And even Gandhi’s harshest detractors do not deny that he steadfastly defended, and eventually sacrificed his life for, many values under assault today—fellow-feeling for the weak, and solidarity and sympathy between people of different nations, religions, and races.

No one would be less surprised than Gandhi by neo-Fascist upsurges in what he called “nominal” Western democracies, which in his view were merely better at concealing their foundations of violence and exploitation than explicitly Fascist nations were. He thought that democracy in the West was “clearly an impossibility so long as the wide gulf between the rich and the hungry millions persists,” and as long as legislators act like a “prostitute”—his infamous term for the British Parliament—and voters “take their cue from their newspapers which are often dishonest.”

True democracy, or swaraj, involved much more participation from citizens, he believed; it required them to combine self-rule with self-restraint, politics with ethics. Turning his back on his middle-class origins, he brought millions of peasants into political life. To him, the age of democracy—“this age of awakening of the poorest of the poor”—was a cause for celebration, and he conceived of democracy as something that “gives the weak the same chance as the strong,” in which “inequalities based on possession and non-possession, colour, race, creed or sex vanish.”

People in the West, Gandhi argued, merely “imagine they have a voice in their own government”; instead, they were “being exploited by the ruling class or caste under the sacred name of democracy.” Moreover, a regime in which “the weakest go to the wall” and a “few capitalist owners” thrive “cannot be sustained except by violence, veiled if not open.” This is why, Gandhi predicted, even “the states that are today nominally democratic” are likely to “become frankly totalitarian.”

Many other anti-colonial activists and thinkers also saw Fascism and imperialism as “the two faces” of a “decaying capitalism,” in the words of Jawaharlal Nehru, Gandhi’s close associate and India’s first Prime Minister. Gandhi’s critique of Western-style politics, however, extended to its underpinnings of political and economic liberalism, and its central assumption: that material progress and industrial expansion could continue without devastating political and environmental consequences.

“Industrialism,” he argued in 1931, “depends entirely on your capacity to exploit, on foreign markets being open to you, and on the absence of competitors.” But intensified competition from Asian and African countries could change everything, he warned presciently, decades before the rise of China and India as capitalist economies plunged once powerful nations of the West into irreversible economic decline and political crisis. Unlike Nehru and many post-colonial leaders, Gandhi derived no satisfaction from the prospect of heavily centralized Asian and African states industrializing and catching up with their Western overlords. He calculated early on the environmental costs of industrial progress by populous countries: in 1928, he wrote, “If an entire nation of 300 millions”—India’s population at the time—“took to similar economic exploitation, it would strip the world bare like locusts.”

For these reasons and others, Gandhi thought that it was not enough to demand liberation from “exploitation and degradation,” as socialists tended to do. In 1925, in an article titled “What of the West?,” he argued that those who wished to “shun the evils of capital” would have to do nothing less than wholly “revise the view point of capital,” achieving an outlook in which “the multiplicity of material wants will not be the aim of life.” Indeed, Gandhi’s critique of modern civilization hinged on what he saw as its refusal to recognize limits. To a civilization shaped by unappeasable human will and ambition Gandhi counterposed a civilization organized around self-limitation and ethical conduct. “We shall cease to think of getting what we can, but we shall decline to receive what all cannot get,” he wrote. “The only real, dignified, human doctrine is the greatest good of all, and this can only be achieved by uttermost self-sacrifice.”

Gandhi baffled many of his colleagues in addition to his enemies, as Guha relates. His unabashed invocation of quasi-religious values in politics and his key value of self-sacrifice are also likely to disconcert many readers today. Such assertions as “Just as one must learn the art of killing in the training for violence, so one must learn the art of dying in the training for non-violence” set him in stark opposition to the utility-maximizing premises of Western political economy. But Gandhi’s radically different conception of the human being, and its relationship with others, gives his ideas an inner coherence. Asked in 1947 by the director-general of unesco to contribute to the then new and growing discourse surrounding human rights, Gandhi retorted that he had “learnt from my illiterate but wise mother that all rights to be deserved and preserved came from duty well done. . . . The very right to live accrues to us only when we do the duty of citizenship of the world.”

At every point, Gandhi still upends modern assumptions, insisting on the primacy of self-sacrifice over self-interest, individual obligations over individual rights, renunciation over consumption, and dying over killing. What were the sources of Gandhi’s relentlessly counterintuitive thought, and what makes it resonate in our time?

Gandhi’s devout Hinduism, his vow of celibacy, and his penchant for wearing a loincloth and spinning cotton made him seem like an Indian mendicant—“a fakir of a type well known in the east,” in Winston Churchill’s contemptuous judgment. In fact, Gandhi, a devoted reader of the Bible, was, as Pope John Paul II once said, “much more of a Christian than many people who say they are Christians,” and the deepest influences on him were largely European and American. Immersed in an Anglo-American countercultural tradition, he counted Emerson, Thoreau, and John Ruskin as his gurus, borrowing from Ruskin the notion of the dignity of manual labor. His emphasis on duty came from Giuseppe Mazzini. Gandhi closely read the gay socialist Edward Carpenter, who stressed the ethical and spiritual dimension of democracy while distrusting its institutional apparatus, especially the centralized bureaucratic state. Living in South Africa, Gandhi corresponded with Tolstoy, who called him his “spiritual heir.” Guha described in his first volume how the Catholic writer G. K. Chesterton helped inspire Gandhi’s main contribution to political theory, “Hind Swaraj” (1909). Gandhi absorbed many ideas osmotically during an era when a range of artists and thinkers, from William Morris to D. H. Lawrence, deplored the condition of human beings in industrial production and their entrapment in the cash nexus, and emphasized interdependence over individualism.

Tim Rogan’s book, “The Moral Economists: R. H. Tawney, Karl Polanyi, E. P. Thompson, and the Critique of Capitalism” (2017), ably reconstructs the first extensive crisis of liberalism, during which Gandhi began to explore how to “revise the view point of capital.” In the late nineteenth century, the process of globalization was as disruptive as it is today. It had started to become clear that, as Rogan writes, “mutual utility—rational, self-interested actors meeting in markets overseen by a night watchman state—was not a sufficient basis for social order.” The social contract was breaking down across Europe, and those disaffected with the “social philosophy of laissez-faire” became vulnerable to authoritarian figures and “conceptions of a strong, unifying state.” Gandhi was thoroughly alert to this dangerous shift, eerily familiar in our own age of polarized, sectarian politics. “The violence of private ownership,” he once said, “is less injurious than the violence of the State.”

The moral economists argued against the political philosophy of liberalism, which saw the protection of life and property as the main impulse of social and political life. R. H. Tawney, a religious socialist, belittled the concept of economic man, and argued for a more exalted notion of human motives. Karl Polanyi, a refugee from Fascist Europe, became convinced that Fascism, “the most obvious failure of our civilization,” was the consequence of subordinating human needs to the market, and he called for “freedom from economics.” Gandhi likewise argued that, “at every crucial moment, these new-fangled economic laws have broken down in practice. And nations or individuals who accept them as guiding maxims must perish.”

Gandhi was obsessed with the dangers to human freedom from hyperorganized states, economic calculus, and technocracies, and he anticipated the many mid-century American and European intellectuals who grappled with the most obvious failure of their civilization: the eruption of barbarism in the heart of the modern West. Gandhi saw the link between European imperialism in Asia and Africa and totalitarianism in Europe decades before Hannah Arendt elaborated on it in “The Origins of Totalitarianism” (1951). He also recognized, well before such Catholic thinkers as Simone Weil and Jacques Maritain, that new conceptions of social interdependence, individual agency, and cosmopolitan responsibility were needed to save the world from the delusions of individualism and collectivism. But, then, Gandhi had a broader experience of the world than the moral economists, the Christian humanists, or even the German refugees from Nazism; he had been forced to assess modern Western democracies very early in the twentieth century, and from the vantage point of their profoundly undemocratic Asian and African outposts.

Most important, he devised a mode of resistance that skillfully infused mass politics with a moral imperative—to end the vicious cycle of violent antagonism and to prepare the ground for mutual toleration. Satyagraha, which presumed a basic commitment to dialogue on all sides, was likely to be impotent against Nazism or any other genocidal ideology. But it remains a matchless political means to reconcile clashing interests in diverse and fractious societies, largely because it accommodates Gandhi’s proto-postmodern view that truths in politics are invariably partial and contingent. A satyagrahi ought to give “his opponent the same independence and feelings of liberty that he reserves to himself and he will fight by inflicting injuries on his own person.” Maritain correctly described satyagraha as “spiritual warfare.” Gandhi claimed that those engaged in satyagraha were “true warriors,” fearless enough to never resort to arms—as opposed to the cowards driven by fear to violence.

This was a new way of achieving moral agency in the most oppressive circumstances. Yet, as Faisal Devji writes, Gandhi was no humanitarian, concerned above all with ameliorating suffering. Rather, “tempting violence in order to convert it by the force of suffering into something quite unexpected” was at the core of his politics. “Mere appeal to reason does not answer where prejudices are age-long,” Gandhi pointed out. “The penetration of the heart comes from suffering.”

All this seems far removed from the rational debates and discussions that we assume are the way to build public consensus and inform government policy in democracies. But Gandhi realized that democratic politics, as the philosopher Martha Nussbaum has pointed out, “must learn how to cultivate the inner world of human beings, equipping each citizen to contend against the passion for domination and to accept the reality, and the equality, of others.” Moreover, a profound philosophical conviction lay behind the communal endurance of pain and the refusal to retaliate. Gandhi believed that society is much more than a social contract between self-seeking individuals underpinned by the rule of law and structured by institutions; it is actually founded upon sacrificial relationships, whether between lovers, friends, or parents and children.

Gandhi could see that public life organized around a morally neutral conception of private interests is always likely to degenerate into ferocious competition and violent coercion. “Unrestricted individualism is the law of the beast of the jungle,” he warned. It undermines social cohesion, and, finally, creates the conditions for what the social contract is meant to preclude: a war of all against all.

As Trump’s trade wars, travel bans, deportations, and denaturalizations demonstrate, an obsession with preserving what one has can quickly lead to depriving others of their human dignity. Gandhi would have recognized immediately that the source of Trump’s power lies in stoking people’s fear that the material interests of their nation, race, or class will not survive unless ruthless measures are taken. He worked for much of his life in precisely such an inferno of existential terrors and predatory fantasies, when cruelty in the name of self-preservation received singularly wide sanction.

It was a man of the far right, consumed by survivalist anxieties about the “Hindu nation,” who shot Gandhi three times in the chest and the abdomen on the evening of January 30, 1948. Gandhi, who built an entire world view based on the nonviolent imperative of self-sacrifice, had looked forward to his assassination. Having survived a previous attempt on his life that same month, he made no effort to improve his security and, the night before his murder, told a close confidant of his wish to receive a “bullet in my bare chest.” His executioner failed to realize that he was merely helping Gandhi to perfect the “art of dying” and to consummate his cosmopolitan duty as a citizen of the world—the sacrifice of oneself for others. Many more of Gandhi’s statues may fall in the present climate of furious revisionism. But the Mahatma will remain, in his sublime madness, a consistently illuminating guide through the labyrinth of rational self-interest, and through our own decaying landscapes of liberalism and democracy. ♦

This article appears in the print edition of the October 22, 2018, issue, with the headline “The Great Protester.”

Pankaj Mishra has written several books, including “From the Ruins of Empire” and, most recently, “Age of Anger: A History of the Present.”

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