A Spiritual Dilemma

As soon as the news reached South Africa that I along with other Indians had offered my services in the War, I received two cables. One of these was from Mr. Polak who questioned the consistency of my action with my profession of ahimsa.

As soon as South Africa heard that other Indians and I had offered our services in the War, I received two telegrams. One was from Mr. Polak. He questioned whether my action was consistent with my commitment to ahimsa.

I had to a certain extent anticipated this objection, for I had discussed the question in my Hind Swaraj (‘Indian Home Rule’), and used to discuss it day in and day out with friends in South Africa. All of us recognised the immorality of war. If I was not prepared to prosecute my assailant, much less should I be willing to participate in a war, especially when I knew nothing of the justice or otherwise of the cause of the combatants. Friends of course knew that I had previously served in the Boer War, but they assumed that my views had since undergone a change.

I had anticipated this objection to some extent. I had discussed the question in my Hind Swaraj (‘Indian Home Rule’). I also used to discuss it daily with friends in South Africa. All of us recognized that war was immoral. If I was not willing to prosecute someone who attacked me, I was even less willing to take part in a war. This was especially true when I knew nothing about whether the causes of those fighting were just. My friends knew, of course, that I had previously served in the Boer War. But they assumed that my views had changed since then.

As a matter of fact the very same line of argument that persuaded me to take part in the Boer War had weighed with me on this occasion. It was quite clear to me that participation in war could never be consistent with ahimsa. But it is not always given to one to be equally clear about one’s duty. A votary of truth is often obliged to grope in the dark.

In fact, the same reasoning that persuaded me to take part in the Boer War influenced me on this occasion. I was quite clear that taking part in war could never be consistent with ahimsa. But it is not always possible to be equally clear about one’s duty. A person devoted to truth must often feel their way in the dark.

Ahimsa is a comprehensive principle. We are helpless mortals caught in the conflagration of himsa. The saying that life lives on life has a deep meaning in it. Man cannot for a moment live without consciously or unconsciously committing outward himsa. The very fact of his living,—eating, drinking and and moving about,—necessarily involves some himsa, destruction of life, be it ever so minute. A votary of ahimsa therefore remains true to his faith if the spring of all his actions is compassion, if he shuns to the best of his ability the destruction of the tiniest creature, tries to save it, and thus incessantly strives to be free from the deadly coil of himsa. He will be constantly growing in self-restraint and compassion, but he can never become entirely free from outward himsa.

Ahimsa is a broad principle. We are helpless mortals caught in the raging fire of himsa. The saying that life lives on life has a deep meaning. No one can live for a moment without consciously or unconsciously committing outward himsa. Living itself requires eating, drinking, and moving about. These acts necessarily involve some himsa, the destruction of life, however small. Therefore, a follower of ahimsa remains true to the principle under certain conditions. Compassion must be the source of all that person's actions. The follower must avoid destroying even the tiniest creature, as far as possible, and try to save it. In this way, the follower must strive constantly to escape the deadly grip of himsa. Such a person will continue to grow in self-restraint and compassion, but can never become entirely free from outward himsa.

Then again, because, underlying ahimsa is the unity of all life, the error of one cannot but affect all, and hence man cannot be wholly free from himsa. So long as he continues to be a social being, he cannot but participate in the himsa that the very existence of society involves. When two nations are fighting, the duty of a votary of ahimsa is to stop the war. He who is not equal to that duty, he who has no power of resisting war, he who is not qualified to resist war, may take part in war, and yet whole-heartedly try to free himself, his nation, and the world from war.

Again, ahimsa rests on the unity of all life. Because of this unity, one person’s error must affect everyone. So no one can be entirely free from himsa. As long as a person lives in society, they must share in the himsa that society’s very existence involves. When two nations are fighting, a follower of ahimsa has a duty to stop the war. A person may be unable to fulfill that duty, have no power to resist war, or be unqualified to resist it. Such a person may take part in war and still try wholeheartedly to free themselves, their nation, and the world from war.

I had hoped to improve my status and that of my people through the British Empire. Whilst in England I was enjoying the protection of the British Fleet, and taking as I did shelter under its armed might, I was directly participating in its potential violence. Therefore, if I desired to retain my connection with the Empire and to live under its banner, one of three courses was open to me: I could declare open resistance to the war, and in accordance with the law of Satyagraha, boycott the Empire until it changed its military policy, or I could seek imprisonment by civil disobedience of such of its laws as were fit to be disobeyed, or I could participate in the war on the side of the Empire and thereby acquire the capacity and fitness for resisting the violence of war. I lacked this capacity and fitness, so I thought there was nothing for it but for me to serve in the War.

I had hoped to improve my status and that of my people through the British Empire. While in England, I enjoyed the protection of the British Fleet. By taking shelter under its armed might, I was directly participating in its potential for violence. Therefore, if I wanted to remain connected to the Empire and live under its banner, I had three choices. I could openly resist the war and, in accordance with the law of Satyagraha, boycott the Empire until it changed its military policy. Or I could seek imprisonment through civil disobedience of those laws that were fit to be disobeyed. Or I could take part in the war on the Empire’s side and thereby gain the ability and fitness to resist the violence of war. I lacked that ability and fitness, so I thought I had no choice but to serve in the war.

I make no distinction, from the point of view of ahimsa between combatants and non-combatants. He who volunteers to serve a band of dacoits, by working as their carrier, or their watchman while they are about their business, or their nurse when they are wounded, is as much guilty of dacoity as the dacoits themselves. In the same way those who confine themselves to attending to the wounded in battle cannot be absolved from the guilt of war.

From the point of view of ahimsa, I make no distinction between combatants and noncombatants. A person may volunteer to serve a band of dacoits by carrying supplies, keeping watch during their raids, or nursing them when wounded. That person is as guilty of robbery as the dacoits themselves. In the same way, those who only care for the wounded in battle cannot be freed from the guilt of war.

I had argued the whole thing out to myself in this manner, before I received Polak’s cable, and soon after its receipt, I discussed these views with several friends and concluded that it was my duty to offer to serve in the War. Even today I see no flaw in that line of argument, nor am I sorry for my action, holding as I then did views favourable to the British connection.

I had reasoned through the whole matter in this way before I received Polak’s cable. Soon after receiving it, I discussed my views with several friends. I concluded that it was my duty to offer to serve in the War. Even today, I see no flaw in my reasoning, nor do I regret what I did. At the time, I held views that favored the British connection.

I know that even then I could not carry conviction with all my friends about the correctness of my position. The question is a subtle one. It admits of differences of opinion, and therefore I have submitted my argument as clearly as possible to those who believe in ahimsa and who are making serious efforts to practise it in every walk of life. A devotee of Truth may not do anything in deference to convention. He must always hold himself open to correction, and whenever he discovers himself to be wrong he must confess it at all cost and atone for it.

I know that even then, I could not convince all my friends that my position was correct. The question is subtle and allows for differences of opinion. So I have presented my argument as clearly as possible to those who believe in ahimsa. They are the people who are making serious efforts to practice it in every part of life. A person devoted to Truth must not do anything just to follow convention. He must always be open to correction. Whenever he discovers that he is wrong, he must admit it at any cost and make amends.