Racial Discrimination

The symbol of a Court of Justice is a pair of scales held evenly by an impartial and blind, but sagacious woman. Fate has purposely made her blind, in order that she may not judge a person from his exterior but from his intrinsic worth. But the Law Society of Natal set out to persuade the Supreme Court to act in contravention of this principle, and to belie its symbol.

A court of justice is symbolized by an impartial, blind but wise woman holding a pair of evenly balanced scales. Fate has deliberately made her blind so that she may judge a person by their inner worth, not their appearance. But the Law Society of Natal set out to persuade the Supreme Court to violate this principle and contradict its own symbol.

I applied for admission as an advocate of the Supreme Court. I held a certificate of admission from the Bombay High Court. The English certificate I had to deposit with the Bombay High Court, when I was enrolled there. It was necessary to attach two certificates of character to the application for admission, and thinking that these would carry more weight if given by Europeans, I secured them from two well-known European merchants, whom I knew through Sheth Abdulla. The application had to be presented through a member of the bar, and as a rule the Attorney General presented such applications without fees. Mr. Escombe who, as we have seen, was legal adviser to Messrs Dada Abdulla and Co., was the Attorney General. I called on him, and he willingly consented to present my application.

I applied for admission as an advocate of the Supreme Court. I had a certificate of admission from the Bombay High Court. I had to leave my English certificate with the Bombay High Court when I was enrolled there. My application needed two character references. I thought references from Europeans would carry more weight, so I obtained them from two well-known European merchants. I knew both merchants through Sheth Abdulla. A member of the bar had to present the application. The Attorney General usually presented such applications without charging a fee. As we have seen, Mr. Escombe was the legal adviser to Messrs Dada Abdulla and Co. He was also the Attorney General. I called on him, and he willingly agreed to present my application.

The Law Society now sprang a surprise on me by serving me with a notice opposing my application for admission. One of their objections was, that the original English certificate was not attached to my application. But the main objection was, that when the regulations regarding admission of advocates were made, the possibility of a coloured man applying could not have been contemplated. Natal owed its growth to European enterprise, and therefore it was necessary that the European element should predominate in the bar. If coloured people were admitted, they might gradually outnumber the Europeans, and the bulwark of their protection would break down.

The Law Society now surprised me by serving me with a notice opposing my application for admission. One objection was that I had not attached the original English certificate to my application. But the main objection was that the admission rules for advocates could not have anticipated an application from a coloured man. Natal owed its growth to European enterprise, so Europeans needed to remain the dominant group in the legal profession. If coloured people were admitted, they might gradually outnumber the Europeans, and the barrier protecting Europeans would break down.

The Law Society had engaged a distinguished lawyer to support their opposition. As he too was connected with Dada Abdulla and Co., he sent me word through Sheth Abdulla to go and see him. He talked with me quite frankly, and inquired about my antecedents which I gave. Then he said:

The Law Society had hired a distinguished lawyer to support its opposition. He was also connected with Dada Abdulla and Co., so he asked Sheth Abdulla to tell me to visit him. He spoke with me openly and asked about my background, which I described. Then he said:

‘I have nothing to say against you. I was only afraid, lest you might be some Colonial-born adventurer. And the fact, that your application was unaccompanied by the original certificate, supported my suspicion. There have been men who have made use of diplomas which did not belong to them. The certificates of character from European traders you have submitted have no value for me. What do they know about you? What can be the extent of their acquaintance with you?’

‘I have nothing against you. I was only afraid that you might be an adventurer born in the colonies. The fact that you did not include the original certificate with your application supported my suspicion. Some men have used diplomas that did not belong to them. The character references you submitted from European traders mean nothing to me. What do they know about you? How well can they know you?’

‘But,’ said I, ‘every one here is a stranger to me. Even Sheth Abdulla first came to know me here.’

‘But,’ I said, ‘everyone here is a stranger to me. Even Sheth Abdulla only met me here.’

‘But then you say he belongs to the same place as you? If your father was Prime Minister there, Sheth Abdulla is bound to know your family. If you were to produce his affidavit, I should have absolutely no objection. I would then gladly communicate to the Law Society my inability to oppose your application.’

‘But you say he comes from the same place as you? If your father was Prime Minister there, Sheth Abdulla must know your family. If you could provide his affidavit, I would have no objection at all. I would then gladly tell the Law Society that I could not oppose your application.’

This talk enraged me, but I restrained my feelings. ‘If I had attached Dada Abdulla’s certificate,’ said I to myself, ‘it would have been rejected, and they would have asked for Europeans’ certificates. And what has my admission as advocate to do with my birth and my antecedents? How could my birth, whether humble or objectionable, be used against me?’ But I contained myself and quietly replied:

This talk enraged me, but I held back my feelings. ‘If I had attached Dada Abdulla’s certificate,’ I thought, ‘they would have rejected it and asked for certificates from Europeans. And what do my birth and background have to do with my admission as an advocate? How could my birth, whether humble or objectionable, be used against me?’ But I kept my feelings in check and replied quietly:

‘Though I do not admit, that the Law Society has any authority to require all these details, I am quite prepared to present the affidavit you desire.’

‘Although I do not accept that the Law Society has the authority to require all these details, I am willing to submit the affidavit you want.’

Sheth Abdulla’s affidavit was prepared, and duly submitted to the counsel for the Law Society. He said he was satisfied. But not so the Law Society. It opposed my application before the Supreme Court, which ruled out the opposition without even calling upon Mr. Escombe to reply. The Chief Justice said in effect:

Sheth Abdulla’s affidavit was prepared and submitted to the Law Society’s lawyer. The lawyer said he was satisfied. But the Law Society was not. It opposed my application before the Supreme Court. The Court dismissed the opposition without even asking Mr. Escombe to respond. The Chief Justice said, in effect:

‘The objection, that the applicant has not attached the original certificate, has no substance. If he has made a false affidavit, he can be prosecuted, and his name can then be struck off the roll, if he is proved guilty. The law makes no distinction between white and coloured people. The Court has therefore no authority to prevent Mr. Gandhi from being enrolled as an advocate. We admit his application. Mr. Gandhi, you can now take the oath.’

‘The objection that the applicant has not attached the original certificate has no merit. If he has made a false affidavit, he can be prosecuted. If he is found guilty, his name can then be removed from the roll of advocates. The law makes no distinction between white and coloured people. The Court therefore has no authority to prevent Mr. Gandhi from being enrolled as an advocate. We approve his application. Mr. Gandhi, you can now take the oath.’

I stood up and took the oath before the Registar. As soon as I was sworn in, the Chief Justice addressing me said:

I stood up and took the oath before the Registrar. As soon as I was sworn in, the Chief Justice addressed me and said:

‘You must now take off your turban, Mr. Gandhi. You must submit to the rules of the Court with regard to the dress to be worn by practising barristers.’

‘You must now take off your turban, Mr. Gandhi. You must follow the Court’s dress rules for practicing barristers.’

I saw my limitations. The turban that I had insisted on wearing in the District Magistrate’s Court I took off in obedience to the order of the Supreme Court. Not that if I had resisted the order, the resistance could not have been justified. But I wanted to reserve my strength for fighting bigger battles. I should not exhaust my skill as a fighter in insisting on retaining my turban. It was worthy of a better cause.

I saw my limitations. I had insisted on wearing my turban in the District Magistrate’s Court. But I took it off when the Supreme Court ordered me to do so. If I had resisted the order, my resistance could have been justified. But I wanted to save my strength for bigger battles. I should not use up my skill as a fighter by insisting on keeping my turban on. My skill was worthy of a better cause.

Sheth Abdulla and other friends did not like my submission (or was it weakness?). They felt that I should have stood by my right to wear the turban, while practising in the Court. I tried to reason with them. I tried to press home to them the truth of the maxim, ‘When at Rome do as the Romans do.’ ‘It would be right,’ I said, ‘to refuse to obey, if in India an English officer or judge ordered you to take off your turban; but as an officer of the Court, it would have ill become me to disregard a custom of the Court in the province of Natal.’

Sheth Abdulla and other friends did not like my giving in (or was it weakness?). They felt I should have stood up for my right to wear a turban while practicing in Court. I tried to reason with them. I tried to impress on them the truth of the saying, ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ ‘If an English officer or judge ordered you to remove your turban in India, you would be right to refuse,’ I said. ‘But as an officer of the Court, it would have been improper for me to disregard a Court custom in the province of Natal.’

I pacified the friends somewhat with these and similar arguments, but I do not think, I convinced them completely, in this instance, of the applicability of the principle of looking at a thing from a different standpoint in different circumstances. But all my life through, the very insistence on truth has taught me to appreciate the beauty of compromise. I saw in later life, that this spirit was an essential part of Satyagraha. It has often meant endangering my life and incurring the displeasure of friends. But truth is hard as adamant and tender as a blossom.

I reassured my friends somewhat with these and similar arguments. But I do not think I completely convinced them that the principle applied in this case. The principle was to look at a thing from a different viewpoint in different circumstances. But throughout my life, my very insistence on truth has taught me to appreciate the beauty of compromise. Later in life, I saw that this spirit was an essential part of Satyagraha. It has often meant risking my life and displeasing my friends. But truth is as hard as diamond and as tender as a flower.

The opposition of the Law Society gave me another advertisement in South Africa. Most of the newspapers condemned the opposition and accused the Law Society of jealousy. The advertisement, to some extent, simplified my work.

The Law Society’s opposition brought me more publicity in South Africa. Most newspapers condemned the opposition and accused the Law Society of jealousy. The publicity made my work somewhat easier.