BRUTE-FORCE
READER: This is a new doctrine; that what is gained through fear is
retained only while the fear lasts. Surely, what is given will not be
withdrawn?
EDITOR: Not so. The Proclamation of 1857 was given at the end of a
revolt, and for the purpose of preserving peace. When peace was secured
and people became simple-minded, its full effect was toned down. If I
ceased stealing for fear of punishment, I would re-commence the
operation so soon as the fear is withdrawn from me. This is almost a
universal experience. We have assumed that we can get men to do things
by force and, therefore, we use force.
READER: Will you not admit that you are arguing against yourself? You
know that what the English obtained in their own country they have
obtained by using brute-force. I know you have argued that what they
have obtained is useless, but that does not affect my argument. They
wanted useless things, and they got them. My point is that their desire
was fulfilled. What does it matter what means they adopted? Why should
we not obtain our goal which is good, by any means whatsoever even by
using violence? Shall I think of the means when I have to deal with a
thief in the house? My duty is to drive him out anyhow. You seem to
admit that we have received nothing, and that we shall receive nothing
by petitioning. Why, then, may we not do so by using brute-force? And,
to retain what we may receive, we shall keep up the fear by using the
same force to the extent that it may be necessary. You will not find
fault with a continuance of force to prevent a child from thrusting its
foot into fire? Somehow or other, we have to gain our end.
EDITOR: Your reasoning is plausible. It has deluded many. I have used
similar arguments before now. But I think I know better now, and I shall
endeavour to undeceive you. Let us first take the argument that we are
justified in gaining our end by using brute-force, because the English
gained theirs by using similar means. It is perfectly true that they
used brute-force, and that it is possible for us to do likewise: but by
using similar means, we can get only the same thing that they got. You
will admit that we do not want that. Your belief that there is no
connection between the means and the end is a great mistake. Through
that mistake even men who have been considered religious have committed
grievous crimes. Your reasoning is the same as saying that we can get a
rose through planting a noxious weed. If I want to cross the ocean, I
can do so only by means of a vessel; if I were to use a cart for that
purpose, both the cart and I would soon find the bottom. "As is the God,
so is the votary," is a maxim worth considering. Its meaning has been
distorted, and men have gone astray. The means may be likened to a seed,
the end to a tree; and there is just the same inviolable connection
between the means and the end as there is between the seed and the tree.
I am not likely to obtain the result flowing from the worship of God by
laying myself prostrate before Satan. If, therefore, anyone were to say:
"I want to worship God: it does not matter that I do so by means of
Satan," it would be set down as ignorant folly. We reap exactly as we
sow. The English in 1833 obtained greater voting power by violence. Did
they, by using brute-force, better appreciate their duty? They wanted
the right of voting, which they obtained by using physical-force. But
real rights are a result of performance of duty; these rights they have
not obtained. We, therefore, have before us in England the force of
everybody wanting and insisting on his rights, nobody thinking of his
duty. And, where everybody wants rights, who shall give them and to
whom? I do not wish to imply that they never perform their duty, but I
do wish to imply that they do not perform the duty to which those rights
should correspond; and, as they do not perform that particular duty,
namely, acquire fitness, their rights have proved a burden to them. In
other words, what they have obtained is an exact result of the means
they adopted. They used the means corresponding to the end. If I want to
deprive you of your watch, I shall certainly have to fight for it; if I
want to buy your watch, I shall have to pay you for it; and, if I want a
gift, I shall have to plead for it; and, according to the means I
employ, the watch is stolen property, my own property, or a donation.
Thus we see three different results from three different means. Will you
still say that means do not matter?
Now we shall take the example given by you of the thief to be driven
out. I do not agree with you that the thief may be driven out by any
means. If it is my father who has come to steal I shall use one kind of
means. If it is an acquaintance, I shall use another; and, in the case
of a perfect stranger, I shall use a third. If it is a white man, you
will perhaps say, you will use means different from those you will adopt
with an Indian thief. If it is a weakling, the means will be different
from those to be adopted for dealing with an equal in physical strength;
and, if the thief is armed from tip to toe, I shall simply remain quiet.
Thus we have a variety of means between the father and the armed man.
Again, I fancy that I should pretend to be sleeping whether the thief
was my father or that strong-armed man. The reason for this is that my
father would also be armed, and I should succumb to the strength
possessed by either, and allow my things to be stolen. The strength of
my father would make me weep with pity; the strength of the armed man
would rouse in me anger, and we should become enemies. Such is the
curious situation. From these examples, we may not be able to agree as
to the means to be adopted in each case. I myself seem clearly to see
what should be done in all these cases, but the remedy may frighten you.
I, therefore, hesitate to place it before you. For the time being, I
will leave you to guess it, and, if you cannot, it is clear that you
will have to adopt different means in each case. You will also have seen
that any means will not avail to drive away the thief. You will have to
adopt means to fit each case. Hence it follows that your duty is _not_
to drive away the thief by any means you like.
Let us proceed a little further. That a well-armed man has stolen your
property, you have harboured the thought, you are filled with anger; you
argue that you want to punish that rogue, not for your own sake, but for
the good of your neighbours; you have collected a number of armed men,
you want to take his house by assault, he is duly informed of it, he
runs away; he too, is incensed. He collects his brother-robbers, and
sends you a defiant message that he will commit robbery in broad
day-light. You are strong, you do not fear him, you are prepared to
receive him. Meanwhile, the robber pesters your neighbours. They
complain before you, you reply that you are doing all for their sake;
you do not mind that your own goods have been stolen. Your neighbours
reply that the robber never pestered them before, and that he commenced
his depredations only after you declared hostilities against him. You
are between Sylla and Charybdis. You are full of pity for the poor men.
What they say is true. What are you to do? You will be disgraced if you
now leave the robber alone. You, therefore, tell the poor men: "Never
mind. Come, my wealth is yours, I will give you arms, I will teach you
how to use them; you should belabour the rogue; don't you leave him
alone." And so the battle grows; the robbers increase in number; your
neighbours have deliberately put themselves to inconvenience. Thus the
result of wanting to take revenge upon the robber is that you have
disturbed your own peace; you are in perpetual fear of being robbed and
assaulted; your courage has given place to cowardice. If you will
patiently examine the argument, you will see that I have not overdrawn
the picture. This is one of the means. Now let us examine the other. You
set this armed robber down as an ignorant brother; you intend to reason
with him at a suitable opportunity; you argue that he is, after all, a
fellow-man; you do not know what prompted him to steal. You, therefore,
decide that, when you can, you will destroy the man's motive for
stealing. Whilst you are thus reasoning with yourself, the man comes
again to steal. Instead of being angry with him, you take pity on him.
You think that this stealing habit must be a disease with him.
Henceforth you, therefore, keep your doors and windows open; you change
your sleeping-place, and you keep your things in a manner most
accessible to him. The robber comes again, and is confused, as all this
is new to him; nevertheless, he takes away your things. But his mind is
agitated. He inquires about you in the village, he comes to learn about
your broad and loving heart, he repents, he begs your pardon, returns
you your things, and leaves off the stealing habit. He becomes your
servant, and you find for him honourable employment. This is the second
method. Thus, you see different means have brought about totally
different results. I do not wish to deduce from this that robbers will
act in the above manner or that all will have the same pity and love
like you; but I wish only to show that only fair means can produce fair
results, and that, at least in the majority of cases, if not, indeed, in
all, the force of love and pity is infinitely greater than the force of
arms. There is harm in the exercise of brute-force, never in that of
pity.
Now we will take the question of petitioning. It is a fact beyond
dispute that a petition, without the backing of force, is useless.
However, the late Justice Ranade used to say that petitions served a
useful purpose because they were a means of educating people. They give
the latter an idea of their condition, and warn the rulers. From this
point of view, they are not altogether useless. A petition of an equal
is a sign of courtesy; a petition from a slave is a symbol of his
slavery. A petition backed by force is a petition from an equal and,
when he transmits his demand in the form of a petition, it testifies to
his nobility. Two kinds of force can back petitions. "We will hurt you
if you do not give this" is one kind of force; it is the force of arms,
whose evil results we have already examined. The second kind of force
can thus be stated: "If you do not concede our demand, we will be no
longer your petitioners. You can govern us only so long as we remain the
governed; we shall no longer have any dealings with you." The force
implied in this may be described as love-force, soul-force, or, more
popularly but less accurately, passive resistance. This force is
indestructible. He who uses it perfectly understands his position. We
have an ancient proverb which literally means "One negative cures
thirty-six diseases." The force of arms is powerless when matched
against the force of love or the soul.
Now we shall take your last illustration, that of the child thrusting
its foot into fire. It will not avail you. What do you really do to the
child? Supposing that it can exert so much physical force that it
renders you powerless and rushes into fire, then you cannot prevent it.
There are only two remedies open to you--either you must kill it in
order to prevent it from perishing in the flames, or you must give your
own life, because you do not wish to see it perish before your very
eyes. You will not kill it. If your heart is not quite full of pity, it
is possible that you will not surrender yourself by preceding the child
and going into the fire yourself. You, therefore, helplessly allow it to
go into the flames. Thus, at any rate, you are not using physical force.
I hope you will not consider that it is still physical-force, though of
a low order, when you would forcibly prevent the child from rushing
towards the fire if you could. That force is of a different order, and
we have to understand what it is.
Remember that, in thus preventing the child, you are minding entirely
its own interest, you are exercising authority for its sole benefit.
Your example does not apply to the English. In using brute-force against
the English, you consult entirely your own, that is the national
interest. There is no question here either of pity or of love. If you
say that the actions of the English, being evil, represent fire, and
that they proceed to their actions through ignorance, and that,
therefore, they occupy the position of a child, and that you want to
protect such a child, then you will have to overtake every such evil
action by whomsoever committed, and, as in the case of the child, you
will have to sacrifice yourself. If you are capable of such immeasurable
pity, I wish you well in its exercise.