A Week with Gandhi

"Louis Fischer wrote more than one book on Gandhi. He also wrote a biography of Gandhi called The Life of Mahatma Gandhi , which was published after Gandhi’s death. That book was the basis for Attenborough’s film. I didn’t want that book; I wanted something else by Fischer. This book is set in 1942, again, a time of great political turmoil and anxiety. The Second World War was on. Let’s go back to give some context. In 1937 the national movement had been going on for a long time and several significant concessions were granted by the British. There was a partial devolution of powers to Indians and there were Congress governments in seven out of nine provinces. If the Second World War hadn’t happened, India would probably have become independent in the same way Canada or New Zealand or South Africa did. India would have slowly shed British rule and may have still owed some kind of symbolic allegiance to the Crown, in the way Australia or Canada do. The war queered the pitch completely, however, because the British had their backs to the wall. This is a time—1939, 1940, 1941—when the Americans hadn’t yet entered the war, and the British were fighting alone. Even the Soviets didn’t enter until 1941. At that point, the British couldn’t care at all about Indian independence; all they wanted was to save their own skin and defeat Hitler. Gandhi and the Congress were confronted with a terrible dilemma. On the one hand, for all his political differences with Imperial rule, Gandhi had enormous personal sympathy with the British people. He had many British friends; he had studied in London, and he loved London to distraction. When the Luftwaffe bombed London, he actually wept at the thought of Westminster Abbey coming under German bombs. Gandhi was willing to abandon his doctrinal commitment to non-violence and to tell the British ‘Hitler is evil, he must be defeated, we will help you defeat him.’ ‘We’ here means the Congress party, India’s main political vehicle, led by Gandhi and Nehru. They said to the British, ‘We will work with you, but you must assure us that you will grant us independence once the war is over.’ This was, in my view, a very reasonable condition—because if the British were fighting for freedom, then surely that meant freedom for Indians, too? This was rejected by the then prime minister, Winston Churchill, who was a diehard imperialist—and whose viceroy in India, Linlithgow, was as reactionary as Churchill was. So here is Gandhi in India wondering, ‘What do I do? I want to help the British, but I want my people to be free.’ The Americans are sympathetic to his predicament. Fischer goes to India in 1942, at a time when Gandhi is telling the British, ‘If you don’t assure us freedom, I will launch another countrywide protest movement against your rule.’ This was to become the Quit India Movement of August 1942; Fischer visits just before that. He goes to Gandhi’s ashram in central India. Unlike Nirmal Kumar Bose, Fischer is a journalist and a keen observer. He deals less in analysis and more in description. So there’s a very rich and informative account of the ashram, of Gandhi’s rural settlement, what the daily life was like, what the food was like. The food was awful. After a week of eating squash and boiled vegetables Fischer was waiting to go back to Bombay and have a good meal at the Taj Mahal Hotel. Fischer describes Gandhi’s entourage, the men and women around him, his wife, his disciples and then he talks to Gandhi. It’s an unusually frank and open conversation. As Fischer says later on in the book, one of the joys of talking to Gandhi is that it’s not pre-scripted. When you talk to other politicians, he says, it’s like turning on a phonogram. You hears these stock metaphors, and a certain kind of rhetoric: it’s a practised, programmed and rehearsed speech. But when you talk to Gandhi, it’s a conversation. You’re opening up new lines of thought, and Gandhi himself is so open and transparent and reacting so spontaneously that he sometimes says things that he’s surprised at himself. The book conveys the essential humanity of Gandhi and his down-to-earth character. He lived in this simple village community, with bad food and no modern conveniences at all. I really like this book because it’s Gandhi from close up. I wanted Bose and Fischer on my list: one an Indian, the other American, one a scholar, the other a journalist, meeting Gandhi at different points in his life: 1942 for Fischer, 1946/47 for Bose. Both were critical periods in the life of Gandhi and in the history of the world. I wanted to juxtapose an Indian firsthand account of Gandhi’s life with a non-Indian, first-hand account of Gandhi’s life. The other three books I’ve chosen are not first-hand accounts. They are more based on documentation and scholarship. One last thing about Fischer which may be of interest to your readers with a more general interest in the history of 20th century politics: Fischer began as a Communist. He spent many years in Russia and married a Russian woman. He spoke fluent Russian, and like several American journalists of his time was rather credulous about the Russian Revolution. But then Stalin’s brutality opened his eyes and he came to Gandhi on the rebound, as it were. Fischer was one of the contributors to the volume called The God That Failed , along with Arthur Koestler and other writers who were disenchanted by Communism. So Fischer is a person with wide international experience. He’s lived in Russia, he’s travelled through Europe and then he discovers Gandhi in India. So from that point of view, I think his book is particularly useful. There are three major aspects to this. One is that spinning is a way of breaking down the boundaries between mental labour and manual labour and dissolving caste distinctions. In the Indian caste system, the upper caste Brahmins read books and are temple priests, and the Kshatriyas own land and give orders and fight wars. Then you have the Vaishyas, who are businessmen. It’s only the Shudras and the Untouchables, the fourth and fifth strata, who do manual labour. Manual labour is despised in the Indian caste system, and Gandhi wanted to say that everyone should work with their hands. The second aspect is that Gandhi believed in economic self-reliance. A major factor in India’s underdevelopment was that its indigenous industries had been destroyed under British colonial rule. We were importing cloth from England, particularly Manchester. So this was a way of saying, ‘We will spin our own cloth and we’ll do it ourselves using decentralized methods. Each of us will spin something.’ The third aspect of it is that he is cultivating a spirit of solidarity among his fellow freedom fighters, and spinning is a way of doing that constructively and non-violently. How do fascists inculcate solidarity among the community? By marching up and down to show their enemies how menacing they can be. Consider spinning the Gandhian alternative to a fascist marchpast. This is how you should read Gandhi’s interest in—you could even say obsession with—spinning. It was at once a program of social equality, of breaking down caste distinctions, of economic self-renewal and of nationalist unity: everyone will do the same thing. Well, it was rejected by his own closest disciple and anointed heir, Jawaharlal Nehru. When India became independent, Nehru launched the country firmly on the path to economic modernization, which included industrialization. But it wasn’t wholly rejected because of another of Gandhi’s followers (who has a cameo role in my book), a remarkable woman called Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay. She was the one who persuaded Gandhi that women must join the Salt March too. And after Gandhi died, while Nehru took the state in the direction of planned economic industrial development, Kamaladevi helped revive India’s craft traditions. Some of our textile and handwoven crafts are owed to Gandhi’s emphasis on spinning and to Kamaladevi, his preeminent female disciple. She really was a quite remarkable person who deserves a good biography of her own. After Gandhi’s death, she was in a sense the founder of India’s civil society movement—how to organize people in cooperatives, how to nurture and revive dying traditions of crafts. Some of that continues. I would say that even economically it was not a complete failure, though you’re right that it was largely rejected after independence because India took the route of steel plants, highways, factories and so on."