By Jawaharlal Nehru
You know that during the last thirty years or so, we carried on rather intensively our campaign for India’s freedom. We did not begin it; it was there. It had been continued for generations before us but it came more to the world's notice then, because a world figure stepped into the arena of Indian politics — that is, Mahatma Gandhi. And he produced a very remarkable change in India.
I was, of course, much younger then but still I have the most vivid memories of that change because it affected me as it affected millions of our people. It was a strange change that came over us. We were at that time a very frustrated people, hankering and yearning for freedom and not knowing what to do about it. We were helpless, unarmed, unorganized in any proper way and totally incapable, as it seemed, of facing a great imperial Power which had been entrenched in our country for over a hundred and fifty years. Further, this was a Power which was not superficially there, merely by force of arms but which had dug down deep into the roots of India. It seemed an extraordinarily difficult task to remove it.
Some of our young men, in the depths of their frustration, took to violent courses that were completely futile. Individual acts of terrorism took place, which meant nothing at all in the wider context of things. On the other hand, the politics of some of our leaders then was so feeble that it could produce no result. So between the two, we did not know what we could do. It seemed degrading to follow the rather humiliating line which some of the leaders of Indian public life in those days recommended; and, on the other hand, it seemed completely wrong and futile to adopt the terrorist method which, apart from being bad in itself, could not possibly gain any results.
At that time, Gandhi came on the scene and he offered a way of political action to us. It was an odd way — a new way. What he said was not new in its essence. Great men had said it previously but there was a difference in that he applied that teaching to mass political action. Something which the individual had been taught to do in his individual life was suddenly sought to be adopted for mass action — and mass action in a vast country of people who, from the educational point of view, were illiterate, untrained and thoroughly frightened; people who were obsessed with fear and who (if I may refer to the peasantry of our country which formed about 80 per cent of our population) were kicked and cuffed by everybody who came in contact with them, whether it was a governmental agency or the moneylender. Whoever it was, they were treated badly. They never had any relief from the tremendous burden they endured.
Well, Gandhi came and he told them that there was a way out — a way of achieving freedom. ‘First of all,’ he said, ‘shed your fear. Do not be afraid, and then act in a united way but always peacefully. Do not bear any ill will in your hearts against your opponent. You are fighting a system, not an individual, not a race, not the people of another country. You are fighting the imperialist system or the colonial system.’
Now, it was not very easy for us to understand all this; and much more difficult it must have been for others, our peasantry, for instance. But the fact remains that there was some power in his voice, something in him which seemed to infuse other people with courage and make them feel that this man was not an empty talker, that he meant what he said and that he would be able to ‘deliver the goods’, if I may put it so.
Almost magically, his influence spread. He was well known before also but not in this particular way. And within a few months, we saw a change come over our countryside. The peasantry began to behave differently. It straightened its back. It could look you in the face. It had self-confidence and self-reliance. Now, this did not happen automatically, of course, for Gandhi’s message was carried to these peasants in the countryside by tens of thousands of young men and young women. First of all, they went to the people who became enthusiastic about it and accepted it. Within a few months, the whole aspect of India changed.
Now, it is simple enough to say, ‘Do not be afraid.’ There is nothing magical about that. Of what were we afraid? What is a person normally afraid of? Many things. We were afraid of being put in prison. We were afraid of our property being confiscated for sedition. We were afraid, if you like, of being shot at and killed as rebels. Well, Gandhi argued with us, ‘After all, if you are so frightfully keen on freedom, what does it matter if you go to prison, if your property is confiscated or even if you are killed? It does not matter much, because you will get something infinitely more. Apart from serving for a great cause and apart from possibly achieving results, the mere act of doing this will fill you with a certain satisfaction and joy.’
Somehow or other that voice seemed to convince masses of people; and there came about a tremendous change.
Thus started in India what might be called the ‘Gandhi Era’, in our politics, which lasted until his death and which, in some form or other, will always continue. I mention this so that you may have some kind of a picture of how we behaved. Large numbers of us gave up our normal professions and avocations and went to the villages preaching this gospel. We also preached other things which our political organization demanded and we forgot almost everything else that we used to do. Our lives changed, not very deliberately — they simply changed, automatically and completely, so much so that it was a little difficult for us even to interest ourselves in those activities with which we had been previously associated. We were absorbed in the new activity of the moment — and not just for a moment but for years.
Obviously, we could not have done so if we did not find a great deal of satisfaction in it. We did find satisfaction; and when people imagine that I have gone through a great deal of pain and suffering because I went to prison for a number of years, they are perhaps partly right. They are, however, fundamentally wrong in another sense, because most of us who endured privations felt that period to be the most significant in our lives. It was not a period which might be measured in terms of normal happiness but it was something deeper than that — a period in which we felt a certain satisfaction. Why? Because, for the moment, our ideals were in conformity with our actions or, to put it in the other way, we acted in accordance with our ideals. And there can be no greater satisfaction to an individual than when there is such a synthesis of thought and action in him. Then he becomes, for the moment, an integrated individual and he functions with power and strength and without doubt. The real difficulties seldom come from an external source. Real difficulties are those which arise in our own minds when we are in doubt; they can also arise when we are not able to act in accordance with our conviction for some reason. Then there is difficulty and obstruction within ourselves and complexes arise. We had the feeling of tremendous satisfaction in what we were doing, because during that period we became integrated human beings in whom thought and action more or less went together.
We wanted results, of course. We were working for results but for the moment we were satisfied with the act of doing, results apart. We had ups and downs, apparent failures for the moment. But such was the nature of the technique of action which Gandhi had taught us that even in a moment of apparent failure there really was no going back.
You may have heard that a large number of us, a hundred thousand of us, were in prison and apparently nothing was happening in India. The movement for freedom was suppressed. It was so, in a superficial sense. Six months later or a year later, suddenly one would find that the movement was very alive. Repeatedly, the British Government was amazed. It would think that it had put an end to this business, and then it would find that it had started off at a higher pitch than ever. A movement, which was a peculiar mixture of mass activity and individual action (that is, each individual doing something regardless of whether others did it or not), is a type very difficult to crush. It may be suppressed for a while; but because there is the individual incentive and because the individual wants to act regardless of whether others act or not, and when thousands and tens of thousands of individuals feel that way, it is very difficult to suppress them.
How do governments function? A democratic government in the ultimate analysis functions largely with the goodwill of the people and with their co-operation. It cannot go very much against them. Even an autocratic government has to have a measure of goodwill. It cannot function without it. In the ultimate analysis, a government functions because of certain sanctions which it has and which are represented by its army or police force. If the government is in line with the thought of a majority of the people, it is a democratic government and only a very small minority of the people will feel its pressure. Now, if an individual refuses to be afraid of these sanctions, what is the government to do about it? It may put him in prison. He is not afraid; he welcomes it. He may be, if you like, shot down. He is not afraid of facing death. Well, then a government has to face a crisis; that is, a government, in spite of its great power, cannot really conquer an individual. It may kill him but it does not overcome him. That is failure on the part of the government. A government, which is essentially based — apart from the other factors which I have mentioned — upon the sanctions it has, comes up against something — the spirit of man which refuses to be afraid of those sanctions.
Now, that is a thing which normal governments do not understand. They are upset by it. They do not know how to deal with it. They can, of course, deal with the individual in the normal way by treating him as a criminal. But that, too, does not work, because that man does not feel like a criminal: nor do others regard him as a criminal. So, it does not work.
So that, this process, this technique of action, was not one of overwhelming a government so much by mass action — although there was that phase of it — but... rather one of undermining the prestige of a government before which an individual would not bow. Many of you, no doubt, have read something very like it in Thoreau’s writings. This was developed on a mass scale by Gandhi. Naturally, the people of India were not very well trained; nor did they understand too well the philosophy of this technique of action. They were weak and frail human beings. They slipped and made mistakes and all that. Nevertheless, on the whole, they did function according to that technique; and ultimately they triumphed. That is one thing I should like you to bear in mind.
The second thing is quite different. We were fighting for political freedom. That was the primary urge — the nationalist urge for political freedom. But always, right from the beginning, this political freedom was associated in our minds with economic and social progress and freedom. The more we went — and we went all the time — to the masses of the Indian people — the peasantry, the workers, the petty shopkeepers, especially in the rural areas — and the more we saw of the poverty of India, the more we were impressed by it. We could not conceive of any freedom which would be only political freedom and which did not bring relief to these people.
The first problem we took up, inevitably, was the land problem, because most of the peasantry were oppressed by the land tenure system in India. It was a varied system —sometimes completely feudal, sometimes something less than feudal but, nevertheless, bearing down heavily upon the tenant. So, right from the beginning in our programme, the reform of the land tenure system occupied a very prominent place.
We explored other fields, too, and drew up various economic programmes for the betterment of the people, because we looked upon political freedom not as a final goal but rather as a gateway and an opportunity for the nation to progress, as the removal of an obstruction which came in the way of our functioning as we wanted to function. The real functioning and the real progress were to come afterwards.
We made many plans and when, two and a quarter years ago, this freedom for which we had laboured came, we had a large number of plans ready for advance along all kinds of fronts — economic, educational, health, labour. But although the dream which we had dreamed for a long time was coming true — and it was exciting to see a dream come true — it did not come true quite as we had wanted it to. In the process of its coming, the country was partitioned, although with our consent, under the stress of circumstances. Wanting peace and wanting freedom and not wanting anything to delay it, we agreed to that partition, although we disliked it intensely and we rather feared the consequences. Still we thought, on balance, that a partition of the country would be the most peaceful way of achieving our ends.
As a matter of fact, peace did not follow that partition and upheavals took place. Terrible things happened — killings, massacres of large numbers of people and vast migrations from one part of the country to another. We had six million refugees or displaced persons — call them what you will — come to India, uprooted from Pakistan. And about a like number went from India to Pakistan. Men of all types, men and women of all classes, all grades in life — rich people, poor people, middling people, peasants, workers, merchants, industrialists, financiers, educationists, professors, lawyers, doctors — leaving all their property just hurried across to save themselves. Six millions of them — just think of the number we have had to look after!
This was a terrific problem; and it is a terrific problem looking after six million refugees of all types. To remove them was difficult enough. The second thing, just to feed them and to give them shelter, was another very big task but the final and the biggest task was to rehabilitate them. We have been engaged in that for these last two years. We have rehabilitated a fairly large number but a considerable number still remains; and I am afraid that this problem is going to be with us for many years.
Look at the picture of India about the time independence came to us and just after. The coming of independence was, as you know, peaceful in the sense that there was peace between India and the United Kingdom. It was done by agreement; and the whole process was completed in an admirably peaceful way, which does great credit both to India and England.
There is one factor I should like you to remember in this particular connection. Gandhi’s technique of action was not only peaceful but also effective. It showed results. It showed its effectiveness most in the way it brought about freedom and the fact that it led to no ill will between the two countries. And after achieving that freedom, though we were not completely devoid of ill-feeling — I cannot say that — yet it was extraordinary how suspicion, ill will and bitterness against England faded away from our country. And, as you know, we decided on our own free will to co-operate with her in many things and we have continued to co-operate with her.
If you have to solve a problem, it is not much good solving it in such a way as to create two or three more difficult problems. That is what normally happens. Gandhi's way was not only to solve the problem but to solve it in such a way that it was a final or relatively final solution that did not create other problems.
The problem of freedom was satisfactorily solved. Nevertheless, the ending of British rule after a hundred and fifty years, naturally, brought many problems in its trail. All kinds of new forces were released. All kinds of problems which had been arrested or hidden away came up before us. There were the Indian princes, six hundred of them, big and small. That was a difficult matter. We could not possibly have six hundred islands of independent or semi-independent territory all over India. No country could exist like that. Then, there were many reactionary elements in India which thought that when the British left there would be a period of disorder that they might take advantage of. There were feudal elements, narrow nationalistic elements, communal elements and the like. And then, on top of this came the post-partition upheaval in northern India. Naturally, it helped all these reactionary’ elements and they wanted to profit by it.
This was the situation we had to face. Well, we faced it and gradually overcame it. We survived and we began solving many of the big problems that had arisen. Take the Indian States problem. We have practically solved it and with remarkable speed, considering the complexity of it. Five or six hundred States have been disposed of peacefully and with the co-operation and consent of the rulers of these States. Why? Because the whole Indian State system of these maharajas and rajas and nabobs was completely artificial and was kept up by the British power. Maybe a hundred and fifty years ago it was not so artificial but much had happened since then; and I have no doubt that if the British had not been in India, these rulers either would have been removed or would have changed their character or would have been fitted into a new kind of political structure, just as in the last hundred and fifty years you have seen all kinds of principalities gradually disappearing in Europe. That would have happened in India, too.
But it could not happen because the British, an external authority, protected these people. They were completely without strength, either in their own people or in any other way. And so, the moment the British Power was removed, the Indian princes, practically speaking, collapsed like a house of cards; and they came to terms with us. And we gave them generous terms — generous in the sense that we gave them generous pensions — but otherwise they ceased to be rulers as they had been. In some places, in two or three cases, they continue for the moment as constitutional rulers with Ministers and the other paraphernalia of democratic government. In other places they are just ex-rulers pensioned off. This major problem was solved with remarkable speed.
The land problem which we had taken up long ago, we wanted to solve with all speed, too. That is a much more difficult problem but in a great part of India — in three of our biggest provinces — it is practically solved or in the process of being solved. It meant acquiring the land from big landlords on payment of compensation. That meant rather big sums by way of compensation. Therefore, it was complicated; otherwise there was no difficulty. The actual cultivators will keep their land and the absentee owners will be paid compensation for giving up such rights as they might have had. We are proceeding with that. This is important because the biggest problem of Asia — taken as a whole — is the land or the agrarian problem. There are many other problems in Asia but the basic problem, before you can make progress in an agricultural country, is obviously the agrarian problem. I think that many of the troubles of Asia can be understood only if you keep in mind this fact; the agrarian problem is the most important.
We tackled the agrarian problem in India and, if I may say so, the basic stability of the Indian Government is due to the fact that we have dealt with the agrarian problem in a way satisfactory to the peasant in India. I might also mention in this connection that the peasantry suffered tremendously in the past with everybody sitting on their backs. Our cities grew at the expense of our peasantry. For the first time in their lives, the peasantry had a tolerably fair deal during the last war. That is, the high prices of agricultural produce brought them much more money than they had ever seen.
This resulted in their paying off the very heavy agricultural debt which was bearing down upon them. And again, for the first time also, they began to eat a little more because they got a good price. They were not forced to sell every bit of grain or other produce, as they were previously, to pay their rent. Previously, they had to sell almost everything just to hang on to their land. Because they got much higher prices for their produce, they could pay their rent easily and have something left over. So they began to eat more.
That, of course, is a very good thing — their paying off their debt and the peasantry’s eating a little more wheat or rice — but this had a result that was slightly upsetting in another field. When a hundred million people begin to eat a little more it makes a vast difference to the total food stocks of the country'. And we began to suffer from food deficits. These food deficits were partly caused by the partition because some of our best wheat-growing areas went to Pakistan. There were other causes, too; but one of these causes was the fact that people were actually eating more. We wanted them to eat more but for the moment we did not have more for them to eat or rather, if they ate more, the others had less to eat and that created a problem. We could not afford, as an autocratic government might, to see people starving and dying of famine.
May I remind you that not so long ago, in 1943, six years ago, while the war was going on, there was a terrible famine in Bengal? You may remember that three million people died in the province of Bengal through sheer starvation. That famine took place for many reasons but it was directly related to the war in the sense that India’s resources were thrown into the war without a thought of how that would affect the masses generally. They were deprived of even the bare necessities and, suddenly, had nothing. There was a bad harvest, there were no resources left and they died like flies. A democratic government could not face a situation like that even if it wanted to. The government would have to go and some other government would come in. So then, this food-deficit took place, among other reasons, because people were eating a little more. The peasantry would not bring to the market all they had previously brought to the market. The cities began to suffer. We had to import food — large quantities of it — which, again, became a terrible burden on us.
This was apart from the normal difficulties created by the partition. The difficulties were very great, because the partition of India meant suddenly cutting a living body into two. Everything was partitioned overnight, our communication system, telephones, telegraphs, our postal system, our irrigation system, our transport system, our railways, our army, our civil services. Everything was divided up; and in spite of the fact that it was done peacefully, it produced a certain amount of confusion. Just at this time came the upheaval and with it the vast numbers of refugees — millions of them. Then, we had also to face this food deficit and had to pay large sums of money to import food from abroad.
It was not a very easy situation for any government to face, especially a new government, after its own country had been partitioned and all its services and everything had been upset. However, we have gone through this period and on the whole have made good. And may I say that because we have gone through this period and faced all these dangers and difficulties, as well as the previous hardships during our struggle for freedom, we have gained a sense of self-confidence? And we feel that we know very well that we have more difficult problems to face than we have already faced and overcome. And so, there is a general feeling of confidence in the country in regard to the economic or other problems which we may have. We shall get over them. It will mean hard work. But we are perfectly prepared for hard work. We do not try to delude our people into thinking that they are going to have a soft time. But what they want is not a soft time but a picture of the future for which they should work — a picture in which they can see, first of all, a progressive improvement of their lot and present burdens being more or less fairly shared by all groups instead of being borne by some groups and not by others. The latter, as you can well appreciate, can be a very irritating thing.
That is the position of India. That being so, our primary concern in India today is to build this new India, to make it prosperous, to do everything which would enable the economy to improve, create more wealth and increase production. In doing that, we feel that we should pay much more attention to what might be called the basic industries or certain basic things than to other rather superficial industries.
Our first attention is paid, therefore, to certain river valley schemes. Some of them are very big schemes — bigger than the Tennessee Valley Authority; many of them are smaller. These river valley schemes are multipurpose schemes — first of all, to avoid floods; secondly, to irrigate large areas of land for the production of food; thirdly, for hydro-electric power; then, also, to prevent soil erosion and malaria; and, ultimately, to help the growth of the industry.
These are very ambitious schemes and rather costly. In our enthusiasm we wanted to go ahead with dozens and dozens of these schemes. We had to slow down a little when we found that we did not have the technical personnel or the financial capacity to go ahead with all of them. Nevertheless, we are going ahead with some of the big ones and many of the small ones; and we hope to go ahead with the others soon enough.
Then we want to develop certain other basic industries — steel, for example. We have a very big steel plant. It is not enough. We want to have more steel plants and machine tool industries. Unless one has these basic things, one cannot industrialize a country. We want to industrialize India. We will not, of course, change her fundamentally agricultural character thereby, because, however much we may industrialize her, India will still remain basically an agricultural country whether India wants to or not.
India suddenly has to face new contacts with Asian countries and new responsibilities. Of course, whether you think in terms of trade or commerce or defence, India comes into the picture — whether it is Western Asia or South-East Asia or the Far East. You may consider South-East Asian problems apart from Western Asian problems but in both these India comes in. So, India cannot be isolated. In the world today, no country — big or small — can just isolate itself. We have to face very difficult problems and those people who are in positions of responsibility have really a terrific burden to carry. The burden would, anyhow, be very difficult and great but the real difficulty, a moral difficulty, if I may say so, is this: you may, perhaps, be convinced in your mind of a certain course of action which is right or, if I may put it another way, you may be convinced of what is truth in a certain context. If you are convinced as an individual, it is your duty to follow that line regardless of consequences. As a political leader, you do not function as an individual; you function through other individuals whom you lead. You have to make those other individuals also understand the truth as you perceive it. It is not enough for you to perceive it. They are the material through which you act and, therefore, the measure of their activity is governed not by your understanding but by their own understanding of what you say.
Difficult problems, political or moral, thus arise. That you have to function through a medium is a limiting factor. You have to function through masses of men or governments or groups, not as an individual. You may be a very great leader — a prophet if you like — but you are functioning as an individual, no doubt influencing others, no doubt influencing succeeding generations tremendously but, nevertheless, functioning as an individual. First of all, political leaders are not prophets; nor are they, normally, great seekers after truth. Even if they choose to follow what they consider the right path, they are limited by the fact that they have to make others move and not themselves. And so, they inevitably have to compromise. In the context of things, they have to compromise, because there are so many forces at play which they cannot control. Either they retire from the scene or they compromise. Now, once you start compromising, you are on a slippery slope and it may land you anywhere. So, what is one to do? On the one hand, there is this danger of your losing all touch with reality or truth, if you like; on the other hand, unless you compromise, you do not acknowledge reality, you are cut off from it and function merely as an individual and not as a leader.
This is a difficult problem which each one of us in his own small or big way has to face. I know no answer to it, because there can be no general answer; and each case has to be measured and considered separately. But I would say this: even when one compromises, one should never compromise in regard to the basic truth.’ One may limit the application of it, remembering always the basic way, the basic objective and where the aim lies. If we always remember the basic objective and always aim that way, it may be permissible, as a next step, to say something much less than that which people understand. But if we forget the basic objective, then the small step may lead us astray.
In the present-day world, people talk of the atom bomb and are afraid of all the possible consequences which even the present generation might have to face. It is a very extra-ordinary situation, because one may say that science and the application of science have developed so much that it should be easily possible for the whole world to satisfy not only the primary needs of humanity but other needs also and to have full opportunities of individual or group development without the necessity of any conflict. I think that it can be mathematically shown that it is possible for the whole world to prosper if the resources of the world were turned in the direction of the betterment of humanity instead of so much of them being used for and wasted for purposes of war and the preparation for war. For the first time in history, mankind has the key to its happiness in its own hands. If this problem had arisen two or three hundred years ago, it would, perhaps, have been difficult to solve, because all mankind could not prosper together at that time.
And yet, just when we can solve a problem which has afflicted the world through ages past, we, so to speak, with our own goodwill or ill will, raise this new problem which may be exemplified today by the atom bomb. Of course, the atom bomb is only a symbol of other things. It is an extra-ordinary thing that we live in fear of it all the time, not knowing when sudden disaster may descend upon us. I am not terribly afraid of it because I do not think that there is much likelihood of that disaster descending upon us in the near future or for some years to come. I hope that if these years are properly utilized, it will never come, provided we work to that end consciously, provided we are not terribly afraid. The real danger of the situation is that of fear and that wrong steps might be taken because of fear.
We have got into a vicious circle. I am quite certain that in the world today there are very few persons who can conceivably think of war and that in every country a vast number of people, almost everyone, desires peace. And yet, in spite of that, there must be something wrong with our thinking or with our actions. Why should we be caught in this web? We may say, of course, that it is not our fault, that it is other people’s fault. And it is, doubtless, true. Nevertheless, there is something wrong about our getting caught in that dilemma. Gandhi always told us,
‘You have no business to blame the British for the failures in your national movement, the failures in what you are trying to do. Of course, the British Government would try to check you; that is their function. So long as they do not agree and so long as the whole matter is not settled, they will check you. So, what is the good of blaming them, because they check you and defeat you? It shows your failure. It is always your failure if you do not succeed, not the Britisher’s failure. So, it is not much good our blaming them for it.’
It is not much good our blaming others. Others, no doubt, are to blame. That is not the point. But we should find a way out and not depend upon the goodwill or the ill will of others, for then we become dependent on what others do in regard to war and peace.
I have obviously no magical formula to offer anybody in regard to this dilemma, which is a very difficult one for a politician, for any person with responsibility cannot afford to take a risk about his country. He has to prepare for every eventuality. He has to prepare against any possible aggression. He cannot, humanity being what it is, just take up the line of complete passive resistance and say, ‘We shall do nothing and hope that nobody else will do anything.’ He cannot take any risk and he has to be ready for every possible contingency.
On the other hand, the very act of that preparation sometimes goes so far as to bring a possible conflict nearer; and it is obvious that a conflict, if it comes on a world-scale, is likely to be a disaster of unparalleled magnitude. Nobody knows exactly what will happen but one thing is dead certain: the modern world, as it functions today and modern civilization as it is, will hardly survive.
If that is so — and we must realize that that is likely to happen — then it is not merely a question of victory and defeat. Of course, victory is always desirable so that we may do what we want to do. But the question is a much deeper one — that of achieving certain objectives at which you aim. When you fight a war, you fight it to attain certain objectives. Victory is not the objective but a step, the removal of an obstruction, so that you may attain the objective. If you forget that objective, then the victory you gain becomes a hollow victory. It is some relief, no doubt, but you have not gained the objective. Hence, the last two wars, which have been tremendous victories in the military sense, have somehow not relieved the tensions of the world.
Perhaps, in this context, it is worthwhile thinking how far the Gandhian technique is applicable. I do not know how far it is applicable practically, because there are innumerable difficulties but I do think that whether or not it is practically applicable, in our mental and psychological life it may help us a great deal.