23

Chapter 2

Living Nonviolence: Arun Gandhi

Arun Gandhi, grandson of the late Indian spiritual and political leader Mahatma

Gandhi, is among the most respected and influential figures in the international peace

movement. He was born in South Africa where he was subject to the daily injustices of

apartheid and yet raised in a family that taught him that justice does not mean revenge

but rather transforming the other through love. Arun is the founder of the M.K. Gandhi

Institute for Nonviolence and the author of five books including World Without Violence

and Testament to Truth.

Arun Gandhi was destined to a life of activism, especially in the

promotion of peace through nonviolence. His father, Manilal, was a major figure

in the protest of apartheid in South Africa, eventually spending about 14 years in

prison for his efforts. Manilal was the second son of Mahatma Gandhi, perhaps

the most revered figure in the history of promoting peace on this planet.

When South Africa became too dangerous for the young boy, 12 year old

Arun was sent to India to live with his grandfather until Mahatma’s

assassination in 1948. Among Arun’s most prominent memories of his time

during apartheid were of the constant discrimination and oppression he

experienced because of his dark skin. He had become an angry and bitter youth,

resentful of the ways he and his people were treated, and yet mistrustful of the

overtures by his grandfather to reach out to him. Although Arun is now the

founder the M. K. Gandhi Institute for Nonviolence, a center dedicated to the

promotion of peace and an understanding of nonviolence throughout the world,

24

his transformation from anger and resentment to a life devoted to the practice of

nonviolence was not an easy one. The foundations of his spiritual transformation

were laid during the two-year period of his life that he lived with his

grandfather. It was a time of great danger and turmoil, the birth of India as a

nation. Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated for his efforts as a leader of

nonviolent political activism; his grandson has kept Mahatma’s principles alive

through his own efforts as a scholar, teacher, journalist, and spokesperson for

world peace.

Arun has patterned his life after the model set by his grandfather. He has

not only lectured and written about the importance of nonviolence but has tried

his best to live without anger. “Anger represents an attempt to control others,”

Arun explained, “but it never works in the long run. It is best to control with love

rather than fear.” For Arun Gandhi, fifth grandson of Mahatma and carrier of his

legacy, this path was forged during the last years of his childhood, a time when

his grandfather was one of the most famous and powerful figures in the world.

Escape From Prejudice

Arun Gandhi grew up in a small community in South Africa. From the

earliest age he witnessed both of his parents committed to Mahatma’s principle

of political activism through a path of total nonviolence. Yet even with such

distinguished parents and grandfather, Arun was without much interest in

25

education, learning, or much of anything for that matter. He was a

disappointment to his father who had high expectations for his son, hoping that

he might continue the family political legacy. Whereas Mahatma had restricted

his own children a formal education, Arun’s father had decided that his children

would be given opportunities that were denied to him.

It was during a visit to India, that Manilal confided to his father,

Mahatma, that he could do nothing with the boy. “He is without motivation,” he

said, shaking his head.

“Let him stay with me then,” Mahatma suggested. “I will see what I can

do with him.”

In fact, Arun never discovered the plan hatched by his father and

grandfather until some years later when he read a letter that Mahatma had

written to his home saying: “Don’t worry. Arun may seem playful right now. But

he has compassion and love in abundance. He’ll do wonderful things some day.

You need not be concerned about his education. I will do what I can to help

him.”

As disorienting as it was for the young boy to leave his country and home

to live in India, Arun was actually relieved to be away from the constant

prejudice and racism that was so pervasive throughout South Africa at the time.

For the first time in his life he was living in a place in which everyone else was

26

pretty much just like him. The country was still under British rule, but India

afforded many more opportunities that were not possible back home. Besides, he

was tired of being beaten up all the time—given the convictions of his parents, it

was totally unacceptable for him to defend himself with physical violence.

Lessons From Grandfather

One of the first lessons that Mahatma Gandhi taught his grandson was

about understanding anger and being able to use that energy more

constructively. Mahatma saw that one of the biggest obstacles to world peace,

and one of the main impediments to creating a world of nonviolence, was that

most people did not understand anger.

“Of course,” Arun recalled, “Grandfather would never just give a lecture

to me about anger. Instead he had a unique way of teaching. I remember one

time I’d had a tiff with a fellow. We had been playing with some other kids in the

community and we had some sort of disagreement. I was absolutely furious for

having been singled out. I already had enough of that in my life back in South

Africa so I wasn’t going to take it in India as well.”

A gang of kids had picked on Arun because he spoke with a different

accent. He was new in the neighborhood and so an easy target. He stormed into

his grandfather’s study where he was busy writing something. Arun was in a

rage, with tears steaming down his face.

27

“What’s happened to you?” Mahatma said with concern, putting down

his pen to study the boy trembling in fury.”

A torrent of anger and frustration boiled out of Arun as he described how

he had been bullied. He wasn’t going to take this kind of thing all over again. It

wasn’t fair. And he was tired of always being the one who was picked on.

“Please sit down,” Mahatma said a voice that was both commanding and

soothing. Grandfather never raised his voice, never spoke above a conversational

whisper.

Arun shifted from one foot to the other, then lowered his eyes and sat

down with exasperation. He crossed his arms and studied the floor, waiting for

the scolding he knew was coming his way.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, son. Your parents told me a bit about

what you suffered back in South Africa. I was raised there as well so I know

something about what you experienced there.”

Arun scowled, thinking to himself that Grandfather—or anyone else for

that matter—couldn’t possibly understand what he’d been through.

“I notice you have a lot of anger in you,” Mahatma continued. Then, he

said the most unexpected thing: “You know, anger can be a very good thing

sometimes.”

Arun looked up and met his grandfather’s gaze for the first time.

28

“But only if it is used positively and for good purposes. But if we abuse

anger, then we can destroy ourselves and ruin everything around us. It is very

important that you learn this.”

Mahatma realized he had the boy’s attention but he still looked skeptical,

just as one would expect from someone who had been filled with anger for so

long. “Anger is like electricity in some ways,” Mahatma said as he pointed to the

light. “Electricity can be very useful if we use it intelligently. But it can be just as

deadly if we abuse it. So it is a matter of channeling electricity intelligently so

that it makes life better. It is the same with your anger.”

Arun realized he was indeed being chastised in a way, but with

compassion and understanding. He wasn’t sure he understood everything that

Grandfather was saying about this electricity stuff, and he was still pretty

doubtful about the benefits of surrendering his anger—the main emotion that

defined his being—but there was something awfully compelling about what he

heard.

“I want you to do something for me, boy. Will you do something I ask that

might be helpful to you?”

Arun shrugged noncommittally. There was no way he was going to agree

to something, especially with his grandfather who was so persuasive he could

defeat the mighty British Empire with his stubborn will and silky words.

29

“What I want you to do is to write down some of your feelings just as you

see me doing here at my desk. I will give you a journal. For you it will be an

anger journal. I want you to write down the way you feel every time that anger

takes you over. But rather than just spilling out your emotions I want you to find

an alternative solution to the problem you face. Do you understand what I’m

asking you to do?”

Arun nodded his understanding, but then realized that could be

interpreted as an agreement what appeared at the time like a silly thing.

“When you go back and read what you’ve written,” Mahatma said, “I

want you to be able to find an equitable solution rather than getting angry all

over again. The anger journal must become a textbook of your emotions that will

teach you how to deal with situations in the future.”

Arun didn’t know what to think. He had come in to see his grandfather,

hoping for a little sympathy. Instead he got a homework assignment, and one

that seemed extremely difficult at that.

During the next few months, Mahatma met with his grandson every day

to review the anger journal and discuss alternative ways that Arun might use his

anger more constructively instead of lashing out at others and letting the feelings

of hate eat him up inside. “A lot of the violence in the world today,” Mahatma

summarized for his grandson, “is the result of the kind of anger you have been

30

feeling. People lose control of themselves when they are angry. They do and say

things that are hurtful toward others. This changes the course of their lives in

many unforeseen ways.

It wasn’t so much what his grandfather was saying to him, as the way he

said it, that so impressed the 12 year old boy. Mahatma radiated an aura of peace

not only when he was addressing a crowd but even when alone with his

grandson. “The moment I entered the room with Grandfather, I felt my anger go

away. I felt really happy for the first time. And I felt encouraged that I had other

options for the ways I could lead my life.”

Testing Grandfather’s Beliefs

Although it might sound like Arun’s spiritual and psychological

transformation took place within a matter of weeks, or even months, it was

actually two challenging years before the lessons began to really sink in. Arun

was, after all, a difficult, obstinate child and even the great Mahatma Gandhi

could not work miracles right away.

During these last two years of Mahatma’s life, before he was murdered, he

was involved in so many important activities. He was not only fighting for

India’s independence from Britain. He was advocating for the emancipation of

women in India. Perhaps most groundbreaking of all, he was fighting for greater

equality among the castes so that the so-called “untouchables” would be given

31

greater economic and educational opportunities. He was launching programs left

and right to fight poverty and prejudice. And yet one of his most challenging

programs of all was the mentoring of his wayward grandson.

Gandhi had to operate only with funds he could raise himself; the official

British-controlled government refused to support the efforts of their most

notorious, rabble rousing citizen. Since people journeyed from all over the

region, from all parts of the world, to gain an audience with Mahatma Gandhi,

he decided to charge a fee of 5 rupees for those who wished his autograph.

Petitioners began lining up outside his home early in the morning, hundreds

strong, hoping to obtain his signature on a bit of paper. They would assemble for

an interdenominational prayer service led by the great leader. Some would

return day after day because they just wanted to contribute money to Gandhi’s

efforts on behalf of the poor.

It was one of Arun’s responsibilities that he was to greet the people each

day, collect their contributions and materials they wanted autographed. He

would then bring them to his grandfather sign.

“One day, I decided that it was time I got an autograph of my own from

my illustrious grandfather. Surely I deserved one too since I was his grandson.”

Arun bought himself a little autograph book and slipped it into the pile he

32

had collected that day. There were stacks of books, journals, notebooks, slips of

paper, so surely his would not be noticed.

As Mahatma made his way through the stack, signing his name to the

various materials, he noticed that the one little autograph book had no money

attached to it. Since the purpose of this whole enterprise was to raise money to

feed the poor, he was careful to keep accurate accounts. “What is this one for?”

he asked his grandson.

“It is my book,” Arun said defiantly. “I want your autograph like all the

others.”

Mahatma smiled gently but shook his head. “I am sorry, boy, but if you

want my signature you shall have to pay 5 rupees for it like everyone else. This

cannot be money from your parents but must be the result of your own labor.”

“No way!” Arun said, the whole proposition seeming absolutely

ridiculous. “You are my grandfather. You must give me the autograph for free.”

Mahatma laughed. “Alright, then. Let’s see who wins this dispute.”

Obviously, Arun had not stopped to consider that he challenged the single

most strong-minded person on the planet to a duel of wills. This was the man

who brought the British government to its knees by going on a hunger strike. Yet

in his youthful arrogance, Arun was determined to win this battle. During the

previous years he had been doing most of what he had been told. He had even

33

applied the lessons he learned about anger. Yet Arun retained some of his

previous mischievousness and stubbornness. He was tired of always having to

be obedient and do what he was told. He was entitled to some reward and

asking for five seconds of his grandfather’s time to sign his autograph book did

not seem like asking too much. He knew there was supposed to be some lesson

in this, as there was in most of Grandfather’s actions, but he couldn’t figure out

what it was.

Arun had heard his grandfather’s sermons and lessons about converting

anger into productive action but he couldn’t recall a single time that he had ever

seen him angry, or even lose his unflappable calm. Arun would watch his

grandfather greet high level British and Indian officials, generals of the army,

foreign diplomats—all of them maneuvering for some leverage, and yet

Mahatma would remain unfailingly polite and calm. Arun decided to make it his

personal mission in life to get his grandfather angry.

The next day, Mahatma was closeted in the study with several high-

ranking officials from the British government, negotiating for India’s

independence. They were all sitting around a table, the stuffy politicians in their

proper suits, speaking in the careful, tedious language of diplomacy. All of a

sudden, in the middle of the debate about some arcane nuance of negotiations,

Arun barged into the room.

34

“Grandfather, Grandfather,” Arun announced breathlessly, running up to

Mahatma. “Will you sign my book now so I don’t bother you? I promise I’ll go

away and leave you in peace and not interrupt you any more. All you have to do

is just sign my book and I’ll. . .”

Mahatma reached over to his grandson, smiling apologetically toward the

assemblage of officials in attendance. He gently placed a single finger vertically

across Arun’s lips, quieting him for the moment. Then he gently pulled his

grandson’s head towards his chest and held it there while he continued the

conversation with the diplomats.

This ritual continued day after day. Arun would burst into the room

unannounced, run over to his grandfather trying to make a nuisance of himself at

the most inopportune moments. And each time, Mahatma would smile

indulgently and bring his grandson’s head to his heart, holding it there until the

boy capitulated.

“He just went on talking politics, negotiating with the ministers, keeping

his focus on the discussion, all the while holding me in his strong, loving arms.

The really strange thing is that I can’t recall a single time when he ever lost his

temper, appeared annoyed, or impatient with me. He never even asked me to

leave the room—I did that of my own accord after I became bored.

35

“Never, in all the dozens of times I burst in on him, interrupted his

important meetings, did he ever do anything other than to hold me until my

boisterous energy dissipated. He never did become angry, at least in any way I

could detect. And he never gave me his autograph.”

Common Threads

Arun Gandhi’s introduction to nonviolent practice at the feet of his

grandfather formed the foundation for his spiritual mission in life, that is, to

continue Mahatma Gandhi’s work. In their home they practiced a very different

kind of prayer, one that incorporated the hymns of all the major religions of the

world. “We would sing Christian hymns, as well as those of Hinduism,

Buddhism, Judaism, and Islam. There were no religious symbols present in our

religious services except candles. This way everyone who visited us, whatever

their beliefs and backgrounds, could feel comfortable and welcome. This was an

amazing experience for me as a boy to see how it was possible for so many

different people to join hands and pray together. There is only one God but

he/she has many different images.”

In his own writing, Arun has talked about the common threads that run

throughout all religions—love, compassion, understanding, commitment, respect

for all things and people. “We believed in our family that all religious practices

should take us closer and closer to nonviolence. Religion, in whatever form,

36

should help banish hate and anger and prejudice and discrimination toward

others. True religion is based on love and compassion. This was the kind of

religion practiced by my grandfather.”

Arun is still bewildered by the way that different religions have become

so competitive with one another, seeing opposing beliefs as a threat. “That is

why we have so much violence in today’s world. Everyone is competing to prove

that their religion in better than everyone else’s. This dispute is not only

diminishing all religious practice but destroying ourselves in the process.”

There are many people today who consider themselves profoundly

religious. They attend services regularly. They practice the rituals to the letter of

the law. They donate money to their temple, church, mosque, or synagogue.

They purport to follow the most strict tenets of the Bible, Koran, Torah, or

scriptures. Yet in their behavior they continue to manifest strong anger, abuse,

disrespect, and violence toward others. Apart from terrorists who commit acts of

murder in the name of their religious faith, every day we witness acts of cruelty,

madness, and abuse in our daily lives. We see people losing their tempers over

the most insignificant things. They become enraged if someone inadvertently

cuts them off on the freeway, screaming obscenities and threatening violence

toward the offender—all the while sporting a bumper sticker advertising their

strong religious convictions.

37

“It is unfortunate that this passes off for religion today. People sometimes

fail to understand there is a difference between practicing religion and living it.

True spirituality involves infusing one’s beliefs and attitudes into relationships

with others. Religion has been reduced to mere rituals. We think that just

practicing particular ceremonies, saying certain prayers or incantations, is all it

takes to bring us blessings in life. But this is not true. They are meaningless

words unless people behave in ways that are consistent with their espoused

beliefs.”

This was Mahatma Gandhi’s lesson to his grandson. He did not explain

himself. He did not lecture or give advice. He lived his life according to his most

cherished beliefs and hoped that his example might inspire others to do the

same. And yet he did this with perfect humility.

Perfect Host

Through his work at the Gandhi Institute for Nonviolence, as well as the

ways he now leads his life, Arun has been furthering the work of his grandfather

to help others cope with their anger and hostility. He does this, first and

foremost, by being as humble and free of anger as he can. Secondly, he helps

people see the difference between physical violence and passive violence, that is,

the times when people are hurt through neglect or the ways we speak or behave.

38

“It is passive violence that many people commit all the time, every day,

consciously and unconsciously. This generates anger in others who, in turn, seek

redress or justice through further acts of violence. It is passive justice that fuels

the fire.

“I would ask each of the people reading this to consider the ways that

they commit passive violence in their lives, showing disrespect for others,

displaying anger, hurting others through their words or actions. It is only

through such introspection that it is possible to change this pattern.”

This is a battle that Arun still wages within himself every day, constantly

monitoring the earliest seeds of anger and stopping them from growing. There

was a turning point in this struggle that occurred twenty years after his

grandfather died and almost forty years ago.

After spending his early adult years in South Africa, Arun visited India to

meet relatives and friends after his father’s death. He met his wife and they

decided to get married only to learn that the South African government would

not allow her to accompany him to South Africa. Arun was forced to live in India

away from his mother and two sisters.

Some years later Arun went to the harbor in Mumbai to meet an Indian

friend arriving by ship from South Africa. When the ship docked, and Arun went

on board, he was accosted by a strange white man whom he did not recognize at

39

first. The man shook Arun’s hand and introduced himself as a Member of

Parliament. It was then that it dawned on Arun that this gentleman was the

personification of all the hate and prejudice that he had suffered at home. Even

after two decades working on himself to purge all anger, he could feel the

familiar feelings of indignation welling up inside him again just as they had

when he was a boy.

“I came face to face with my tormenter. This man represented all the hate

and oppression and discrimination that I had experienced in my life. He was a

representative of all that I most despised and had worked tirelessly to defeat. Yet

in that split second I could feel my anger rising, I desperately wanted to insult

this man. I felt disgusted to even shake his hand.”

It was then that Arun heard his grandfather’s voice. “I remembered all

that my parents and my grandfather had taught me. I took a deep breath and

calmed myself. Then I told him that I recognized him and that I was a victim of

Apartheid, forced to live as an exile because my government would not allow me

to return home because I was brown-skinned. But I told him I was not going to

hold this against him. I would be a good host and show him my city.”

True to his promise, Arun spent the better part of the next week

entertaining his nemesis, showing him around Bombay, having him and his wife

for dinner at his home. During that time they became friends, even as they held

40

opposite positions on so many political and social issues. “During our

conversations I was curious how he could justify his racist beliefs and he was

doing his best to make me understand his beliefs. When things became tense, we

would just back off and talk about other things. What surprised my wife most of

all was that when it came time to say farewell, we both embraced the couple and

they wept tears of remorse. They told us that in those few days with us their eyes

had been opened to the evils of Apartheid.”

Arun smiled wistfully at the memory. “That was quite a tremendous

thing,” he said modestly. “I often think about it. If I had acted instinctively and

expressed my anger and insulted him, he would have gone back with the same

prejudices and same anger and hate; nothing would have changed. Yet through

this caring and loving response to him, I was able to help him to see points of

view that both of us could never imagined were possible.”