|
|
I have dwelt at some length, though still very inadequately, on the
principles of Indian religion, the sense of its evolution and the intention
of its system, because these things are being constantly ignored and
battle delivered by its defenders and assailants on details, particular
consequences and side issues. Those too have their importance because
they are part of the practical execution, the working out of the culture
in life; but they cannot be rightly valued unless we seize hold of the
intention which was behind the execution. And the first thing we see
is that the principle, the essential intention of Indian culture was
extraordinarily high, ambitious and noble, the highest indeed that the
human spirit can conceive. For what can be a greater idea of life than
that which makes it a development of the spirit in man to its most vast,
secret and high possibilities, - a culture that conceives of life as
a movement of the Eternal in time, of the universal in the individual,
of the infinite in the finite, of the Divine in man, or holds that man
can become not only conscious of the eternal and the infinite, but live
in its power and universalise, spiritualise and divinise himself by
self-knowledge? What greater aim can be for the life of man than to
grow by an inner and outer experience till he can live in God, realise
his spirit, become divine in knowledge, in will and in the joy of his
highest existence? And that is the whole sense of the striving of Indian
culture.
It is easy to say that these ideas are fantastic, chimerical and impracticable,
that there is no spirit and no eternal and nothing divine, and man would
do much better not to dabble in religion and philosophy, but rather
make the best he can of the ephemeral littleness of his life and body.
That is a negation natural enough to the vital and physical mind, but
it rests on the assumption that man can only be what he is at the moment,
and there is nothing greater in him which it is his business to evolve;
such a negation has no enduring value. The whole aim of a great culture
is to lift man up to something which at first he is not, to lead him
to knowledge though he starts from an unfathomable ignorance, to teach
him to live by his reason, though actually he lives much more by his
unreason, by the law of good and unity, though he is now full of evil
and discord, by a law of beauty and harmony though his actual life is
a repulsive muddle of ugliness and jarring barbarisms, by some high
law of his spirit, though at present he is egoistic, material, unspiritual,
engrossed by the needs and desires of his physical being. If a civilisation
has not any of these aims, it can hardly at all be said to have a culture
and certainly in no sense a great and noble culture. But the last of
these aims, as conceived by ancient India, is the highest of all because
it includes and surpasses all the others. To have made this attempt
is to have ennobled the life of the race; to have failed in it is better
than if it had never at all been attempted; to have achieved even a
partial success is a great contribution to the future possibilities
of the human being.
The system of Indian culture is another thing. A system is in its very
nature at once an effectuation and a limitation of the spirit; and yet
we must have a science and art of life, a system of living. All that
is needed is that the lines laid down should be large and noble, capable
of evolution so that the spirit may more and more express itself in
life, flexible even in its firmness so that it may absorb and harmonise
new material and enlarge its variety and richness without losing its
unity. The system of Indian culture was all these things in its principle
and up to a certain point and a certain period in its practice. That
a decline came upon it in the end and a kind of arrest of growth, not
absolute, but still very serious and dangerous to its life and future,
is perfectly true, and we shall have to ask whether that was due to
the inherent character of the culture, to a deformation or to a temporary
exhaustion of the force of living, and, if the last, how that exhaustion
came. At present, I will only note in passing one point which has its
importance. Our critic is never tired of harping on India's misfortunes
and he attributes them all to the incurable badness of our civilisation,
the total absence of a true and sound culture. Now misfortune is not
a proof of absence of culture, nor good fortune the sign of salvation.
Greece was unfortunate; she was as much torn by internal dissensions
and civil wars as India, she was finally unable to arrive at unity or
preserve independence; yet Europe owes half its civilisation to those
squabbling inconsequent petty peoples of Greece. Italy was unfortunate
enough in all conscience, yet few nations have contributed more to European
culture than incompetent and unfortunate Italy. The misfortunes of India
have been considerably exaggerated, at least in their incidence, but
take them at their worst, admit that no nation has suffered more. If
all that is due to the badness of our civilisation, to what is due then
the remarkable fact of the obstinate survival of India, her culture
and her civilisation under this load of misfortunes, or the power which
enables her still to assert herself and her spirit at this moment, to
the great wrath of her critics, against the tremendous shock of the
flood from Europe which has almost submerged other peoples? If her misfortunes
are due to her cultural deficiencies, must not by a parity of reasoning
this extraordinary vitality be due to some great force in her, some
enduring virtue of truth in her spirit? A mere lie and insanity cannot
live; its persistence is a disease which must before long lead to death;
it cannot be the source of an unslayable life. There must be some heart
of soundness, some saving truth which has kept this people alive and
still enables it to raise its head and affirm its will to be and its
faith in its mission.
But, finally, we have to see not only the spirit and principle of the
culture, not only the ideal idea and scope of intention in its system,
but its actual working and effect in the values of life. Here we must
admit great limitations, great imperfections. There is no culture, no
civilisation ancient or modern which in its system has been entirely
satisfactory to the need of perfection in man; there is none in which
the working has not been marred by considerable limitations and imperfections.
And the greater the aim of the culture, the larger the body of the civilisation,
the more are these flaws likely to overbear the eye. In the first place
every culture suffers by the limitations or defects of its qualities
and, an almost infallible consequence, by the exaggerations too of its
qualities. It tends to concentrate on certain leading ideas and to lose
sight of others or unduly depress them; this want of balance gives rise
to one-sided tendencies which are not properly checked, not kept in
their due place, and bring about unhealthy exaggerations. But so long
as the vigour of the civilisation lasts, life accommodates itself, makes
the most of compensating forces and in spite of all stumblings, evils,
disasters some great thing is done; but in a time of decline the defect
or the excess of a particular quality gets the upper hand, becomes a
disease, makes a general ravage and, if not arrested, may lead to decay
and death. Again, the ideal may be great, may have even, as Indian culture
had in its best times, a certain kind of provisional completeness, a
first attempt at comprehensive harmony, but there is always a great
gulf between the ideal and the actual practice of life. To bridge that
gulf or at least to make it as narrow as possible is the most difficult
part of human endeavour. Finally, the evolution of our race, surprising
enough if we look across the ages, is still, when all is said, a slow
and embarrassed progress. Each age, each civilisation carries the heavy
burden of our deficiencies, each succeeding age throws off something
of the load, but loses some virtue of the past, creates other gaps and
embarrasses itself with new aberrations. We have to strike a balance,
to see things in the whole, to observe whither we are tending and use
a large secular vision; otherwise it would be difficult to keep an unfailing
faith in the destinies of the race. For, after all, what we have accomplished
so far in the main at the best of times is to bring in a modicum of
reason and culture and spirituality to leaven a great mass of barbarism.
Mankind is still no more than semi-civilised and it was never anything
else in the recorded history of its present cycle.
And therefore every civilisation presents a mixed and anomalous appearance
and can be turned by a hostile or unsympathetic observation which notes
and exaggerates its defects, ignores its true spirit and its qualities,
masses the shades, leaves out the lights, into a mass of barbarism,
a picture of almost unrelieved gloom and failure, to the legitimate
surprise and indignation of those to whom its motives appear to have
a great and just value. For each has achieved something of special value
for humanity in the midst of its general work of culture, brought out
in a high degree some potentiality of our nature and given a first large
standing-ground for its future perfection. Greece developed to a high
degree the intellectual reason and the sense of form and harmonious
beauty, Rome founded firmly strength and power and patriotism and law
and order, modern Europe has raised to enormous proportions practical
reason, science and efficiency and economic capacity, India developed
the spiritual mind working on the other powers of man and exceeding
them, the intuitive reason, the philosophical harmony of the Dharma
informed by the religious spirit, the sense of the eternal and the infinite.
The future has to go on to a greater and more perfect comprehensive
development of these things and to evolve fresh powers, but we shall
not do this rightly by damning the past or damning other cultures than
our own in a spirit of arrogant intolerance. We need not only a spirit
of calm criticism, but an eye of sympathetic intuition to extract the
good from the past and present effort of humanity and make the most
of it for our future progress.
This being so, if our critic insists that the past culture of India
was of the nature of a semi-barbarism, I shall not object, so long as
I have the liberty of passing the same criticism, equally valid or invalid,
on the type of European culture which he wishes to foist on us in its
place. Mr. Archer feels the openings which European civilisation gives
to this kind of retort and he pleads plaintively that it ought not to
be made; he takes refuge in the old tag that a tu quoque is no argument.
Certainly the retort would be irrelevant if this were only a question
of the dispassionate criticism of Indian culture without arrogant comparisons
and offensive pretensions. But it becomes a perfectly valid and effective
argument when the critic turns into a partisan and tries to trample
underfoot all the claims of the Indian spirit and its civilisation in
the name of the superiority of Europe. When he insists on our renouncing
our own natural being and culture in order to follow and imitate the
West as docile pupils on the ground of India's failure to achieve cultural
perfection or the ideal of a sound civilisation, we have a right to
point out that Europe has to its credit at least as ugly a failure,
and for the same fundamental reasons. We have a right to ask whether
science, practical reason and efficiency and an unbridled economic production
which makes man a slave of his life and body, a wheel, spring or cog
in a huge mechanism or a cell of an economic organism and translates
into human terms the ideal of the ant-hill and the bee-hive, is really
the whole truth of our being and a sound or complete ideal of civilisation.
The ideal of this culture, though it has its obstacles and difficulties,
is at any rate not an unduly exalted aim and ought to be more easy of
accomplishment than the arduous spiritual ideal of ancient India. But
how much of the European mind and life is really governed by reason
and what does this practical reason and efficiency come to in the end?
To what perfection has it brought the human mind and soul and life?
The aggressive ugliness of modern European life, its paucity of philosophic
reason and aesthetic beauty and religious aspiration, its constant unrest,
its harsh and oppressive mechanical burden, its lack of inner freedom,
its recent huge catastrophe, the fierce struggle of classes are things
of which we have a right to take note. To harp in the style of the Archerian
lyre on these aspects alone and to ignore the brighter side of modern
ideals would certainly be an injustice. There was a time indeed many
years ago, when, while admiring the past cultural achievement of Europe,
the present industrial form of it seemed to me an intellectualised Titanic
barbarism with Germany as its too admired type and successful protagonist.
A wider view of the ways of the Spirit in the world corrects the one-sidedness
of this notion, but still it contains a truth which Europe recognised
in the hour of her agony, though now she seems to be forgetting too
easily her momentary illumination. Mr. Archer argues that at least the
West is trying to struggle out of its barbarism while India has been
content to stagnate in her deficiencies. That may be a truth of the
immediate past; but what then? The question still remains whether Europe
is taking the only, the complete or the best way open to human endeavour
and whether it is not the right thing for India, not to imitate Europe,
though she well may learn from Western experience, but to get out of
her stagnation by developing what is best and most essential in her
own spirit and culture.
The right, the natural path for India lies so obviously in this direction
that in order to destroy it Mr. Archer in his chosen role as devil's
advocate has to juggle with the truth at every step and labour hard
and vainly to reestablish the spell of hypnotic suggestion, now broken
for good, which led most of us for a long space to condemn wholesale
ourselves and our past and imagine that the Indian's whole duty in life
was to turn an imitative ape in leading-strings and dance to the mechanic
barrel-organ tunes of the British civiliser. The claim of Indian culture
to survival can be met first and most radically by challenging the value
of its fundamental ideas and the high things which are most native to
its ideal, its temperament, its way of looking at the world. To deny
the truth or the value of spirituality, of the sense of the eternal
and infinite, the inner spiritual experience, the philosophic mind and
spirit, the religious aim and feeling, the intuitive reason, the idea
of universality and spiritual unity is one resource, and this is the
real attitude of our critic which emerges constantly in his vehement
philippic. But he cannot carry it through consistently, because it brings
him into conflict with ideas and perceptions which are ineradicable
in the human mind and which even in Europe are now after a temporary
obscuration beginning to come back into favour. Therefore he hedges
and tries rather to prove that we find in India, even in her magnificent
past, even at her best, no spirituality, no real philosophy, no true
or high religious feeling, no light of intuitive reason, nothing at
all of the great things to which she has directed her most strenuous
aspiration. This assertion is sufficiently absurd, self-contradictory
and opposed to the express testimony of those who are eminently fitted
and entitled to express an authoritative opinion on these matters. He
therefore establishes a third line of attack combined of two inconsistent
and opposite assertions, first, that the higher Hinduism which is made
up of these greater things has had no effect on India and, secondly,
that it has had on the contrary a most all-pervading, a most disastrous
and paralysing, a soul-killing, life-killing effect. He attempts to
make his indictment effective by massing together all these inconsistent
lines of attack and leading them all to the one conclusion, that the
culture of India is both in theory and practice wrong, worthless, deleterious
to the true aim of human living.
The last position taken is the only one which we need now consider,
since the value of the essential ideas of Indian culture cannot be destroyed
and to deny them is futile. The things they stand for are there, in
whatever form, vaguely or distinctly seeking for themselves in the highest
and deepest movements of human being and its nature. The peculiarity
of Indian culture lies only in this distinction that what is vague or
confused or imperfectly brought out in most other cultures, it has laboured
rather to make distinct, to sound all its possibilities, to fix its
aspects and lines and hold it up as a true, precise, large and practicable
ideal for the race. The formulation may not be entirely complete; it
may have to be still more enlarged, bettered, put otherwise, things
missed brought out, the lines and forms modified, errors of stress and
direction corrected; but a firm, a large foundation has been laid down
not only in theory, but in solid practice. If there has been an actual
complete failure in life,- - and that is the one point left, - it must
be due to one of two causes; either there has been some essential bungling
in the application of the ideal to the facts of life as it is, or else
there has been a refusal to recognise the facts of life at all. Perhaps,
then, there has been, to put it otherwise, an insistence on what we
may be at some hardly attainable height of our being without having
first made the most of what we are. The infinite can only be reached
after we have grown in the finite, the eternal grasped only by man growing
in time, the spiritual perfected only by man accomplished first in body,
life and mind. If that necessity has been ignored, then one may fairly
contend that there has been a gross, impracticable and inexcusable error
in the governing idea of Indian culture. But as a matter of fact there
has been no such error. We have seen what were the aim and idea and
method of Indian culture and it will be perfectly clear that the value
of life and its training were amply recognised in its system and given
their proper place. Even the most extreme philosophies and religions,
Buddhism and Illusionism, which held life to be an impermanence or ignorance
that must be transcended and cast away, yet did not lose sight of the
truth that man must develop himself under the conditions of this present
ignorance or impermanence before he can attain to knowledge and to that
Permanent which is the denial of temporal being. Buddhism was not solely
a cloudy sublimation of Nirvana, nothingness, extinction and the tyrannous
futility of Karma; it gave us a great and powerful discipline for the
life of man on earth. The enormous positive effects it had on society
and ethics and the creative impulse it imparted to art and thought and
in a less degree to literature, are a sufficient proof of the strong
vitality of its method. If this positive turn was present in the most
extreme philosophy of denial, it was still more largely present in the
totality of Indian culture.
There has been indeed from early times in the Indian mind a certain
strain, a tendency towards a lofty and austere exaggeration in the direction
taken by Buddhism and Mayavada. This excess was inevitable, the human
mind being what it is; it had even its necessity and value. Our mind
does not arrive at the totality of truth easily and by one embracing
effort; an arduous search is the condition of its finding. The mind
opposes different sides of the truth to each other, follows each to
its extreme possibility, treats it even for a time as the sole truth,
makes imperfect compromises, arrives by various adjustments and gropings
nearer to the true relations. The Indian mind followed this method;
it covered, as far as it could, the whole field, tried every position,
looked at the truth from every angle, attempted many extremes and many
syntheses. But the European critic very ordinarily labours under the
idea that this exaggeration in the direction of negating life was actually
the whole of Indian thought and sentiment or the one undisputed governing
idea of the culture. Nothing could be more false and inaccurate. The
early Vedic religion did not deny, but laid a full emphasis on life.
The Upanishads did not deny life, but held that the world is a manifestation
of the Eternal, of Brahman, all here is Brahman, all is in the Spirit
and the Spirit is in all, the self-existent Spirit has become all these
things and creatures; life too is Brahman, the life-force is the very
basis of our existence, the life-spirit Vayu is the manifest and evident
Eternal, pratyakshaM brahma. But it affirmed that the present way of
existence of man is not the highest or the whole; his outward mind and
life are not all his being; to be fulfilled and perfect he has to grow
out of his physical and mental ignorance into spiritual self-knowledge.
Buddhism arrived at a later stage and seized on one side of these ancient
teachings to make a sharp spiritual and intellectual opposition between
the impermanence of life and the permanence of the Eternal which brought
to a head and made a gospel of the ascetic exaggeration. But the synthetic
Hindu mind struggled against this negation and finally threw out Buddhism,
though not without contracting an increased bias in this direction.
That bias came to its height in the philosophy of Shankara, his theory
of Maya, which put its powerful imprint on the Indian mind and, coinciding
with a progressive decline in the full vitality of the race, did tend
for a time to fix a pessimistic and negative view of terrestrial life
and distort the larger Indian ideal. But his theory is not at all a
necessary deduction from the great Vedantic authorities, the Upanishads,
Brahmasutras and Gita, and was always combated by other Vedantic philosophies
and religions which drew from them and from spiritual experience very
different conclusions. At the present time, in spite of a temporary
exaltation of Shankara's philosophy, the most vital movements of Indian
thought and religion are moving again towards the synthesis of spirituality
and life which was an essential part of the ancient Indian ideal. Therefore
Mr. Archer's contention that whatever India has achieved in life and
creation and action has been done in spite of the governing ideas of
her culture, since logically she ought to have abandoned life and creation
and action, is as unsound as it is unnatural and grotesque. To develop
to the full the intellectual, the dynamic and volitional, the ethical,
the aesthetic, the social and economic being of man was an important
element of Indian civilisation, - if for nothing else, at least as an
indispensable preliminary to spiritual perfection and freedom. India's
best achievements in thought, art, literature, society were the logical
outcome of her religio-philosophical culture.
But still it may be argued that whatever may have been the theory, the
exaggeration was there and in practice it discouraged life and action.
That, when its other falsities have been eliminated, is what Mr. Archer's
criticism comes to in the end; the emphasis on the Self, the eternal,
the universal, the impersonal, the infinite discouraged, he thinks,
life, will, personality, human action and led to a false and life-killing
asceticism. India achieved nothing of importance, produced no great
personalities, was impotent in will and endeavour, her literature and
art are a barbaric and monstrous nullity not equal even to the third-rate
work of Europe, her life story a long and dismal record of incompetence
and failure. An inconsistency more or less is nothing to this critic
and in the same breath he affirms that this very India, described by
him elsewhere as always effete, sterile or a mother of monstrous abortions,
is one of the most interesting countries in the world, that her art
casts a potent and attractive spell and has numberless beauties, that
her very barbarisms are magnificent and that, most wonderful of all,
in presence of some of her personalities in the abodes of her ancient
fine-spun aristocratic culture a European is apt to feel like a semi-barbarian
intruder! But let us leave aside these signs of grace which are only
an occasional glimmering of light across the darkness and gloom of Mr.
Archer's mood. We must see how far there is any foundation for the substance
of this criticism. What was the real value of Indian life, will, personality,
achievement, creation, those things that she regards as her glories,
but her critic tells her she should shudder at as her disgrace? That
is the one remaining vital question.
Sri Aurobindo
in SABCL, Volume 14, pages 172-182
published by Sri
Aurobindo Ashram - Pondicherry
diffusion by SABDA
|
[