Opinion From the Opinion Editor: A Gandhi for polarised times

In the early 1920s, people – largely peasants – from more than 50 villages in Mulshi taluka in what is today Maharashtra waged a nearly four-year struggle against a dam at the confluence of the Mula and Nila rivers. Historians believe that this was the first anti-dam movement in world history — the late social scientist Rajendra Vora’s fascinating monograph on the protest bears this name. In asserting their rights against eviction, the people of Mulshi called themselves, “satyagrahis”. The inspiration they drew from the Gandhi-led freedom struggle, unfolding in other parts of the country, was writ large – in fact, many participants were part of the Congress party and tied to its dynamics.

Yet, as Vora’s account shows, the attitude of the Mahatma towards the agitation in Mulshi was ambivalent. In the early days of the movement, Gandhi gave it his blessing, called it a battle for truth. But he was soon advising restraint, asking the protestors to compromise and accept the compensation. Many did. But Senapati Bapat, their leader, fought on, turning the non-violent movement into a “violent satyagraha”.

Bapat was imprisoned. He never became a member of a political party. But Bapat is still known as amongst the early socialists of the country – amongst the numerous who have, in colonial and post-Independent India, drawn inspiration from the Mahatma, yet arrived at interpretations that are not necessarily textbook Gandhi.

There is, of course, the official Gandhi. Arguably, one of the greatest anti-statists in the world, he has become a major talisman of post-Independence governments – beginning from the Nehruvian regime to the current Narendra Modi-led government. His face adorns currency notes – including those that get demonetised.

He lends his name to government programmes and is said to be the moving force behind some, the Swachch Bharat Abhiyan for instance. Stadiums and housing enclaves announce their association with him and foreign dignitaries do not leave the country’s shores without presenting their votive offerings at the Mahatma’s resting place.

And then there are those, not in office, but, as historian David Hardiman writes, “they invoke Gandhi in symbolic ways with padyatras, processions and the like”.

There is, however, also a Gandhi outside the trappings of the state and governments – whose ability to inspire, perhaps, cannot be reduced to what he said or wrote. Some of Gandhi’s successors battle racial superiority, some are at the forefront of the struggle for human rights and dignity, others want to cleanse systemic corruption, nuclear disarmament is the credo of some. Gandhi is sometimes the messiah of anti-technologists and yet even cyber scientists are moved by him.

The environmental movement frequently taps into Gandhi’s call for ahimsa. But actually it takes much more from him. As Hardiman writes, “Gandhism appears like some kind of moral integument holding within a promise of a pure politics”. One of the many takeaways from Vora’s work is an insightful comparison between the Mulshi movement and perhaps the best known anti-dam protest of our times – the Narmada Bachao Andolan. “The readiness to sacrifice lives is an integral part of Satyagraha, which involves inviting suffering in the pursuit of truth. The activists in both Mulshi and Narmada followed the Gandhian technique”.

Both movements sought participation of others – ones not directly affected. As Vora writes, “volunteer participation in the NBA has been high. In the 1920s, the Mulshi satyagraha became the testing ground for patriotism. Similarly, the NBA movement found support from a section of the middle class”.

In the strictest sense, both Mulshi and the NBA were not successful. And the debate on the utility of large dams in countries where a large number of people do not have the basic energy resources goes on. But can it be denied that the NBA’s critiques triggered rich conversations on alternative irrigation processes and ways to generate power, much before climate change forced renewable energy into government policy books?

Lack of surety is writ large in the Mahatma’s thoughts. Historians tell us that most times he was beset with dilemmas and given to contradictions. He could compromise or leave critical issues hanging. But then Gandhi never made a fetish of consistency. As he famously wrote “When anybody finds any inconsistency between any two writings of mine, if he has still faith in my sanity, he would do well to choose the latter of the two on the same subject.” This was of course way before Gandhi was challenged — by the Communists, disciples such as Nehru, friends such as Tagore, adversaries such as Jinnah. Subhas Bose disapproved of his methods and his conflicted relations with Ambedkar are well-known. These interactions, of course, led him to change, evolve. But the trajectory of Gandhi’s political life, his gentle candour, seems to open doors for generations to learn from his failures — even from his inability to give up several prejudices.

This may well be what gives Gandhi his varied constituency. Perhaps one reason he shared space with Ambedkar in the pantheon of the anti-CAA protests and a section of Dalit activists today resist choosing between Gandhi and Ambedkar.

The government too proclaims Gandhi’s timelessness today, including at international events. At the same time, members of the ruling party brandish muscular nationalist credentials, hurl indignities at colleagues in Parliament and participate in a climate in which teachers inflict corporal punishment in the name of religion and mobs target the “other” based on food choices. A new lexicon that comprises words like urban naxal and gives a vastly different meaning to terms such as “anti-national” and “terrorist” demonises all forms of dissent.

At such a time, a question becomes more important: Is there space for the Gandhi who is in constant dialogue with friends, allies, adversaries, his strengths as well as his frailties?

Stay well,

Kaushik Das Gupta