Orwell on Gandhi

Good morning,

Recently, I came across an essay that George Orwell wrote on Gandhi, and a
certain section of it addresses precisely what we've been batting around
here for years. That is, what price sainthood?

Two paragraphs rather materially cover some of our man in Cornish's
greater "sins." It seems that Gandhi was just as guilty in his personal
life as old J.D. So then, this begs the question: if we accept Gandhi
(despite his sometimes reprehensible conduct toward his most loved ones)
as a saint, should we not apply the same rules to Salinger? Or should we
redefine what we think of Gandhi?

Anyhow. Here it is:

Of late years it has been the fashion to talk about Gandhi as though he
were not only sympathetic to the Western Left-wing movement, but were
integrally part of it. Anarchists and pacifists, in particular, have
claimed him for their own, noticing only that he was opposed to centralism
and State violence and ignoring the other-worldly, ainti-humanist tendency
of his doctrines. But one should, I think, realize that Gandhi's teachings
teachings cannot be squared with the belief that Man is the measure of all
things and that our job is to make life worth living on this earth, which
is the only earth we have. They make sense only on the assumption that God
exists and that the world of solid objects is an illusion to be escaped
from. It is worth considering the disciplines which Gandhi imposed on
himself and which -- though he might not insist on every one of his
followers observing every detail -- he considered indispensable if one
wanted to serve either God or humanity. First of all, no meat-eating, and
if possible no animal food in any form. (Gandhi himself, for the sake of
his health, had to compromise on milk, but seems to have felt this to be a
backsliding.) No alcohol or tobacco, and no spices or condiments even of a
vegetable kind, since food should be taken not for its own sake but solely
in order to preserve one's strength. Secondly, if possible, no sexual
intercourse. If sexual intercourse must happen, then it should be for the
sole purpose of begetting children and presumably at long intervals.
Gandhi himself, in his middle thirties, took the vow of bragmacharya,
which means not only complete chastity but the elimination of sexual
desire. This condition, it seems, is difficult to attain without a special
diet and frequent fasting. One of the dangers of milk-drinking is that it
is apt to arouse sexual desire. And finally -- this is the cardinal point
-- for the seeker after goodness there must be no close friendships and no
exclusive loves whatever.

Close friendships, Gandhi says, are dangerous, because "friends react on
one another" and through loyalty to a frend one can be le into
wrong-doing. This is unquestionably true. Moreover, if one is to love God,
or to love humanity as a whole, one cannot give one's preference to any
individual person. This again is true, and it marks the point at which the
humanistic and the religious attitude cease to be reconcilable. To an
ordinary human being, love means nothing if it does not mean loving some
people more than others. The autobiography leaves it uncertain whether
Gandhi behaved in an inconsiderate way to his wife and children, but at
any rate it makes clear that on three occasions he was willing to let his
wife or a child die rather than administer the animal food prescribed by
the doctor. It is true that the threatened death never actually occurred,
and also that Gandhi -- with, one gathers, a good deal of moral pressure
in the opposite direction -- always gave the patient the choice of staying
alive at the price of committing a sin: still, if the decision had been
solely hsi own, he would have forbidden the animal food, whatever the
risks might be. There must, he says be some limit to what we will do in
order to remain alive, and the limit is well on this side which -- I think
-- most people would give to the word, it is inhuman. The essence of being
human is that one does not seek perfection, that one is sometimes willing
to commit sins for the sake of loyalty, that one does not push asceticism
to the point where it makes friendly intercourse impossible, and that one
is prepared in the end to be defeated and broken up by life, which is the
inevitable price of fastening one's love upon other human individuals. No
doubt alcohol, tobacco, and so forth, are things that a saint must avoid,
but sainthood is also a thing that human beings must avoid. There is an
obvious retort to this, but one should be wary about making it. In this
yogi-ridden age, it is too readily assumed that "non-attachment" is not
only better than a full acceptance of earthly life, but that the ordinary
man only rejects it because it is too difficult: in other words, that the
average human being is a failed saint. It is doubtful whether this is
true. Many people genuinely do not wish to be saints, and it is probable
that some who achieve or aspire to sainthood have never felt much
temptation to be human beings. If one could follow it to its psychological
roots, one would, I believe, find that the main motive for
"non-attachment" is a desire to escape from the pain of living, and above
all from love, which, sexual or non-sexual, is hard work. But it is not
necessary here to argue whether the otherworldly or the humanistic idea is
"higher." The point is that they are incompatible. One must choose between
God and Man, and all "radicals" and "progressives," from the mildest
Liberal to the most extreme Anarchist, have in effect chosen Man.

from Orwell, George. "Reflections on Gandhi." The Art of the Essay.
     Lydia Fakudiny, ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1991. 296-304.

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Received on Sat Aug 17 06:32:21 2002