AKOMISMO by Martin Perez

After asking my students why they think Gandhi felt he failed, or why Gandhi is a man “greater than empires”, I weigh in with my thoughts.

I suppose in the end, we can say that Gandhi failed.

To this day, India and Pakistan remain split. Terrorism derails trains on a regular basis and the feast days of Hindu gods are marked by parades of both the faithful and the police. And even as India prepares to raise itself out of poverty and compete with China, the 600,000 villages throughout the subcontinent remain backward and isolated thanks to Mr. Gandhi’s legacy of a village-led economy that effectively shut out foreign direct investment until 1991. Gandhi may be the most popular Indian since Siddhartha Gautama, but what did he truly leave us? The doctrine of ahimsa often feels remote and alien in our world where hyperpowers and transnational terrorists dictate our political, economic and social climate. “An eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind,” went the Mahatma. However, Mr. Gandhi, mankind sees different things — just like how you, Nehru and Mr. Jinnah saw India and Indias.

Towards the end of the film, the LIFE magazine journalist Margaret Bourke-White vocalized what a lot in the audience thought at that point. Flanked by his daughters whose assistance he needed in order to walk, Gandhi headed out to address a crowd. As he did, Margaret saw a sadness about Gandhi in his eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders. Did he think he failed?

This may seem like such a harsh assessment of a man who is so far removed from our time. Through history, it becomes so easy for us to pass judgment on people who acted without the benefit of our retrospection. It’s so easy to say that Gandhi failed to see this or Gandhi failed to see that. It is inevitable (and thus incredibly convenient) that we approach this question of failure by making a checklist of Gandhi’s goals and comparing them to what actually happened. He wanted independence and he wanted one India. He got one but not the other. Therefore, he failed. Or he did not succeed completely. Which means he failed. Or something like that. Sounds almost too simple.

However, it was not really failure that Margaret saw, but a deep profound sadness. It was she — as an observer — who saw the thought of failure in Gandhi but that did not mean that Gandhi felt the same way. While her view reflected what most of the audience thought, it also masked what everyone in the audience knew. Gandhi, by the sheer virtue of the inspiration he became to the Indian people, transcended the mundane and political categories of success or failure. Nonetheless, why was he sad?

A powerful scene in the early parts of the film holds the answer. When he was younger and just starting up his ashram in South Africa, he had an exchange with his wife after she refused to clean and rake the latrines. She contested that those were tasks for untouchables and that she would not have any of it. Infuriated by her response, the young Mohandas Gandhi grabbed his wife by the shoulders and forced her out. “This is not about me, but the principle,” Gandhi said. “You are not welcome here!”

“But I am your wife,” she replied.

That humble retort froze Gandhi, and he collapsed into tears. His wife — both dutiful and loving — knelt down and reminded him of his humanity. She acknowledged that what he wanted was noble and true, but “It’s harder for us who are not as good as you are.”

Gandhi’s failure is often attributed to the partition of India and Pakistan. Throughout his campaign, he advocated for one India and carried a powerful message that went across political and religious lines. But 1947 painted a different picture. Violence erupted throughout India as Hindu and Muslim populations were displaced and refused to be displaced. To this day, the conflict continues to reside on the streets and in men’s hearts. Politically speaking, Gandhi failed. But it wasn’t only he.

Gandhi alone did not have the power to change people’s hearts and minds. He was an inspiration and a transformative figure, but the inspirer and the transformer were somebody else. They were each and every single Indian — Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian and Jew — who ever believed in him and shared his vision. Transformation was not just his task, but everyone else’s. To say that Gandhi failed would be to admit that everyone else failed as well.

After all, it is harder for those of us who are not as good as he is.

If we insist that Gandhi failed, I could say that it was only to the extent that he forgot what his wife reminded him of. At times, he forgot his own humanity and in so doing forgot everyone else’s humanity as well. Not everyone could share his world view, but I will always regard Gandhi as someone who taught us how to look.

Since 9/11, we have entered an age rife with the ethos of fear and terrorism. We tend to heighten the contrast between the things that set us apart rather than the forces which bring us together. The doctrine of non-violence may sound antiquated in a world where journalists are being killed, a war is being fought in Iraq, and corruption reinforces the poverty which violates our fellow men’s bodies, hearts and souls. But perhaps that is precisely the problem.

We regard non-violence as defeatist, when it actually negates our very concept of success or defeat. By giving way to the forces that destroy us, we do not sanction their existence but sound a clear message that they have nothing to destroy. This is the transcendence Gandhi symbolized; this is the task he left for us. So where to start?

I suppose we begin by talking about why Gandhi succeeded where most men failed. History may put us in a position to judge, but it also reminds us of our responsibility to learn.