CHAPTER II

THE PEOPLE

Let us first take the people as a whole.

I am aware in the first place that there are some who will object that

the Indian peoples are not a whole. "There is no Indian people," they

will say. "There are innumerable races, tribes, castes, diffused over

a continent. They have nothing in common, neither language nor

religion, nor habits nor ideals. You cannot talk of the people as a

whole."

Yet they have one thing in common; they have a common humanity.

Religions, castes and races are but clothes. Beneath them lies

humanity. And humanity is always the same in essence because it is one

Soul striving towards one object, though in many different ways and in

various stages of attainment.

I will show this by one instance. It is said, for example, that the

instinctive feeling of an Oriental towards women is different from that

of Europe; the West respects women, and the East does not do so. This

is proved to you by their habits, by polygamy, by polyandry, by, for

instance, the habit of a man walking in front and the woman behind.

These customs, you are told, disclose the Oriental attitude as

different from ours and as differing in various parts of the East.

They do not do so.

The instinctive feeling of men to women is the same everywhere; it is

an invariable emotion. Customs hide it, disguise it, and sometimes

almost kill it; they never alter it.

A Burman walks in front of his wife because in the very recent past,

everywhere in Burma, and in most places even now, the advance was the

place of difficulty. There were no roads, only paths through jungle or

across the fields. There were thorny creepers to be cut back, streams

and mud puddles to be forded, cattle and buffaloes to be driven away,

snakes to be killed, and the nasty, snapping pariah dogs to be kept at

a distance. No woman could or would go in front. The man goes in

front from courtesy and carries a chopper, the woman follows with the

bundle. It is their courtesy. If this habit continues when the

necessity has passed, that is simply because a custom once established

is, East or West, hard to break. See what Yoshio Markino says about

this same custom in Japan.

Polyandry was due to restriction of the means of subsistence, limiting

the population and so necessitating the exposure of girl children;

occasional polygamy--for it is always only occasional, exceptional--is

an imperfection of humanity, universal East or West. In the East they

try to make the best of it by acknowledging it; the West hides it and

pretends it does not exist. That is a difference of treatment, not of

fact.

If you want to know the true instinctive feeling of men to women in the

East you will find it not in laws, customs, or religions, but in the

literature. Read their folk-tales, their love-stories, those which

warm the hearts of boys and girls, of men and women, aye even of the

old, those that rising from the heart appeal unto the heart. Their

ideals are our ideals--one woman and one man; and I think sometimes

they come nearer their realisation than we do. We pretend more, but

pretence is not reality.

If this be true of love, the mother of all emotions, it is true of all

the others. Their circumstances being different they must find

different ways of reaching towards their ideals, but the ideals are the

same.

Therefore all the Indian peoples have a common humanity; and more, they

have a great many circumstances in common. They are all, for instance,

mainly agricultural; they are all in a very similar stage of

evolution--the village community stage; they are all poor, they are all

natural and simple; they are all under our rule. These are more potent

influences than religion or race if they are allowed to have their sway.

Then as to races, I do not think, for instance, that races in India are

much more mixed than in Italy. Think of the races there are all

grouped under the name Italian: there are Roman, Etruscan, Greek,

Saracen, Norman, Goth--who shall say how many more? And in Great

Britain I cannot count them.

Therefore, because in this book I am speaking of the real humanity hid

beneath the clothes, the bonds, the chains of conventions and of

customs, of religions and belief, I can speak of the Indian peoples as

one people. Details differ enormously, but details do not ever affect

principles, only the method of their application. And creeds, faiths,

laws, and customs pass; humanity remains.

The Indian people, then, over whom we established our government

accepted it, and helped us to establish it. They wanted peace. For

two centuries or more they had been torn with wars, with insurrections,

with internal anarchy, and with their consequences. They wanted rest,

to plough, to sow, to reap, to trade in peace. We gave them that.

They wanted Courts Criminal and Civil that were not corrupt. We gave

them honest Judges. They wanted facilities for trade--roads, posts,

and such things--which we provided. They could expand and use some of

their energies.

But the field was a narrow one. Men are not born to sow and reap and

trade alone. They have other emotions which seek for outlet, other

energies which require a vent. Man is gregarious, and he is so made

that he cannot fully develop himself except in larger and again larger

communities. To reach his full stature in any way he must develop in

all ways. He must feel himself part of ever greater organisms, the

village first, the district and the nation--finally of humanity.

But in India all this is impossible. Except the village there is no

community that exists even in name, and we have injured, almost

destroyed, even that. Thus an Indian has no means of growth. He

cannot be a citizen of anything at all. Half his sympathies and

abilities lie entirely fallow, therefore he cannot fully develop the

other half. A man is a complete organism, and if you keep half in

inaction you affect the other half too. A man is not a worse but a

better merchant, or lawyer, or landowner, or soldier, because he is

interested in his locality, his community, his nation. It gives him

wider views, makes him more tolerant, more humane, more wise. Man as a

unit is a poor thing, physically, morally, and intellectually. Ability

is the product of communities, of men formed into organisms, not of

individuals. Each man in himself has no duty but to himself; to own a

duty to a community he must be part of the community; to a government

he must have a place in the government; to a nation he must be part of

the nation. But in India there is no nation, no community at all, save

very weakened village communities. As far as the Indian is concerned

no larger community exists. And I have already pointed out that India

has no place in the organism of government.

It is the slowly growing consciousness of an energy that has no outlet,

of a desire for advance in every direction, that causes the unrest. In

some ways the educated classes feel it most. Elsewhere they see men of

their class cultivating their patriotism, increasing that sense of

being and working for others, of being valuable to the world at large,

showing capacity for leading, ruling, thinking, advancing in a thousand

ways, while none of it is for them. They want to express the genius of

their races in wider forms than mere individuality, but they are not

able to do so. They want a national science and literature and law;

they cannot have it. No individual as an individual can achieve

anything. Not till he feels he is a cell in a greater and more

enduring life can he develop. But this is not for India.

It is a piece of advice often addressed to India when she expresses her

desire for some share in her government that she should first reform

herself socially and intellectually. The status of women in zenanas

and harems, infant marriage, the sad condition of widows, the

degradation of caste, polygamy, the fanaticism of religions, are, she

is told, to be mended before she can show herself fit for

self-government in any form. Only to a free people can self-government

be safely entrusted, and she is so wrapped up in prejudice and

ignorance that she is unfit for any freedom. "Mend your divisions

first; reform yourself, and we will see what we can do."

Such advice comes from ignorance alone. It is but another instance of

that Phariseeism that has become so common with us. It is impossible

for individuals to reform themselves, however much they may wish to do

so. For an individual to reform, his whole environment must be

reformed as well. For example, take widow remarriage. How can widows

remarry in comfort till the whole structure of Hindu convention is

changed? Not one individual nor a million individuals can break a

convention. There is a strong feeling, as we know, amongst Hindus

against this and many other conventions that stifle them, but every

effort to break these chains has failed. Why? Because to break

fetters bound upon society by religion or convention takes the combined

effort of society, and even then it is difficult. The inertia of

peoples is a deadly difficulty to overcome.

But we have not allowed the collective instinct any opportunity of

developing. There are no nuclei; there is nothing to draw the people

together.

Take again the differences created by races, religions, castes. It is

the interest of the priests to maintain these differences and

exaggerate them. Religions never reform themselves. What influence is

there to soften them? None that I ever heard of.

But self-governing institutions do tend to remove them. In the village

communal life they are to a considerable extent ignored. The organism

of the village, when healthy and free, forces men to disregard

artificial barriers of this sort and meet on common ground for common

business. Solidarity comes from the sense of the necessity for

solidarity in order to get on. Its possibility is soon manifest.

But where in India is there any influence tending towards this end?

The barriers of caste increase and grow, as naturally they must do.

There is no _rapprochement_ between Hindu and Mohammedan, but on the

contrary the gulf is widened. It must be so. And if Government makes

the fatal error of adopting the motto "_Divide et impera_," if it in

ever so slight a fashion identifies itself with one caste, race, or

religion above another, then it is near the end of all things. But to

the development of self-government the effacement of these divisions

would be necessary, and in the pursuit of an eagerly coveted ideal they

could pass and disappear. No other influence can do it. Again history

shows this clearly. It was this influence in England that rendered

Catholic emancipation possible and had brought creeds politically

together. Did we in England live still under an aristocracy as we did

a hundred years ago the divisions between Catholic and Protestant,

Churchman and Dissenter, Christian and Agnostic, would still be as

sharp as they were. These artificial barriers of creed and race give

way only under the pressure of a stream of national life. That is

beginning already to flow in India; be ours the task to help it flow in

true and widening channels so that it may become a great river,

fertilising all things. Now the main idea seems to be to dam it up,

and so cause it to flood and to destroy.

I hope that what I say will not be misunderstood. I do not for a

moment mean that political organisms should or could be used for social

reform. That is quite impossible. Any such attempt would wreck the

organism, which, as an organism, must pursue only its legitimate ends.

But I say, and all history is at one with me, that suitable free

institutions do cultivate and bring out the faculty for freedom, and

demonstrate that in all matters it is necessary.

Again, consider this: the laws concerning marriage, divorce, adoption,

and inheritance, whether of Mohammedan, Hindu, or Buddhist, are

petrified. With changing circumstances, changes in these laws become

of the first necessity; yet as things are now no change is possible.

Take the ten million Buddhists in Burma. Their laws of marriage are

contained in the Dhammathats, which are derived from the laws of Menu,

and are I don't know how old. Now there is this that is good about

them: they were codified when India was free, before the night of

religious bigotry descended upon it. They are, therefore, based not

upon religious ideas, but upon custom which was based on experience.

The spirit therefore is excellent, it is common-sense; it is not the

pretension of an ideal long before the ideal is universally possible,

but a common-sense recognition of human nature as it is, and the

necessity of doing your best with it. They are the only marriage laws

in the world framed by common sense and not religion. Men and women

are free and equal. But although their base is excellent they were

framed for a very different environment from what obtains now. And

again, there are two or more codes, and they differ in details. There

is nothing the people want more than a rectification and consolidation

of their laws, with registration of marriage, the power to make wills,

and other matters. They are always expressing this necessity because

the present laws of inheritance handicap them against other races.

They cannot make wills, and the law of inheritance is so vague that

when a rich man dies litigation almost always ensues. The estate is

dissipated in law-costs and the heirs ruined.

But who is going to draft the new laws? Not Government. Once bit

twice shy, and the Government of Madras had a try at that in Malabar.

There was urgent necessity there for some system of marriage

registration, so Government appointed a Commission which recorded

quantities of evidence, and framed a Report, on which an Act was

passed. It was supposed to be absolutely according to the wishes of

the people. I have not been in Malabar since the Act was passed, but

one friend has told me that three marriages were registered under it.

Another friend told me that this is a wild exaggeration, and that only

one marriage was registered under it, just that the people might say

they had not rejected the Act without trying it. However this may be,

the Act is a dead letter. It was bound to fail. The people find the

laws of Government already too stringent, interfering too much, and too

inhuman, even where they deal with matters outside the home. They will

never allow an alien Government a footing inside the house. They know

Government has destroyed the village; they fear it will destroy the

family. Therefore Government holds its hand. It cannot do otherwise.

For even if it could frame an Act in accordance with the wishes of the

people, that Act could not be enforced. And it cannot discover the

wishes of the people, because the people themselves don't know. The

opinion of no matter how many individuals is no true guide. Because,

to justify a new Act of inheritance, not individual opinion but joint

opinion must be known. They are not the same. Ten men as individuals

will tell you one thing; these ten men as a community would tell you a

different thing. This is a fact in psychology I shall have to refer to

again later. It is undoubted.

Now the joint opinion of Burmese society as to the proposed change

cannot be gauged, because it does not exist. There are no Burmese

communities to evolve any common idea. Therefore the archaic laws must

remain as they are.

Thus throughout India all progress of all sorts is barred; can you

wonder that there is unrest from this one cause alone?

And this feeling goes down to the very lowest ranks as an unnameable,

unanalysable fever and unhappiness; you see it everywhere.

Then there is more than this. A system of government and law that was

bearable when we were weak is unbearable when stronger. What gives you

help when young becomes a fetter as you grow. It bites into the flesh

like cords too tightly drawn, and in India instead of being loosed they

have been drawn more tightly year by year.

It is not only that the people have grown bigger, but the bonds of

government have grown narrower. It has grown more of a machine, less

human than it was, less human year by year, until sometimes now it is

almost inhuman in its rigid formalism. The bonds cut into her flesh;

India wants to grow, to rise--but cannot. How could it be but that she

should show unrest?

India wants to get on; we bar the way, so India feels unrest.

Now if you will consider this unrest you will admit that it is not a

bad symptom but a good one; it is a sign of an increasing life.

Neither is it uncomplimentary to us that it should have arisen. It is

the greatest compliment our rule could have. A hundred and fifty years

ago--even, perhaps, fifty years ago--India could not have felt this.

She was exhausted, weary, wanting peace. We gave her peace, and so she

has grown strong and overcome her weariness. That is our doing. No

one else could have done that. We gave her a complete rest cure. We

said, "Keep still, and eat and drink; we will do all the thinking--the

ruling that has to be done. Do not be afraid, for we can do it well.

Have confidence. Get back your nerves and strength. We will look

after you."

We did. How well we did it history tells. We did not spare ourselves.

I do not say we acted from any altruistic motives. I do not say we

have not made mistakes. But we did it. The task was great; the

greatest, perhaps, the world has seen.

India is rested, and she wakes, she moves. Why are we angry? Should

we not feel proud?

Can we not give her a hand, and say, "Rise up and try to walk. I will

hold your hand at first, till you are stronger. Then when you are

grown you shall walk free, beside me, as my daughter whom I have

brought up"?

I see continual denunciations of the unrest in India. Why? I see

continual regrets that the past is passed--but why? Continual threats

are breathed towards India. Why?

For myself, I hail it as the happiest omen that could be. It has

unfortunate exhibitions sometimes; that is partly our fault, I fear,

because we do not recognise that the past is gone for ever. India has

grown, and we forget. We give no outlet to these true energies that

have developed. India was our patient; now she is recovering shall we

make of her a subject, or a daughter? She must be one or other, or

leave us altogether, for the past is passed.

The Passing of Empire · 第 2 / 10 章