I remember reading and liking Erikson's first historical psycho-bio, Young Man Luther, in college. But this one, which the author jokingly refers to as Middle-Aged Mahatma (52), was initially a slog and a disappointment. Normally I turn to the preface or intro and the acknowledgements to get a glimpse of the author's personality and purpose, but in this work Erikson is front and center from the beginning.
At first he describes his initial trip to India, his early impressions of sensory overload - feeling profoundly overwhelmed, apprehensive, filled with a sense of dislocation and "incomprehensible dread" (20) - and his gradual decision to focus on an early campaign of Gandhi's as the key to his whole career. What follows is his whole process of investigation and discovery, including conducting extensive interviews, reading correspondence and autobiographies, and of course (psycho)analyzing everything. Only after 250 pages does the author arrive at his narrative of "The Event" that is his purported focus. And only in the final 40 pages does he summarize his insights into the man and his methods.
Perhaps in describing his study of Indian children at play, Erikson is warning us of the structure he has chosen for this book:
"American children select a few toys carefully and then build and rebuild a circumscribed scene of increasingly clear configuration. Indian children, in contrast, attempt to use all the toys at their disposal, creating a play universe filled to the periphery with blocks, people, and animals but with little differentiation between outdoors and indoors, jungle and city, or, indeed, one scene from another. If one finally asks what (and, indeed, where) is the 'exciting scene,' one finds it embedded somewhere where nobody could have discerned it as an individual event and certainly not as a central one." (40)
Erikson asserts that in a relatively ignored 1918 textile worker strike Gandhi settled on the strategy of "militant nonviolence," neither "disorganized violence or undisciplined nonviolence" (374, 377). The next year brings a massacre in Punjab that the author attributes to "the policing mind," a form of "brutal righteousness" that he says resides within us all (390). By the following year Gandhi had united his gifts as "spiritual leader as well as astute lawyer and crafty politician" to lead all of India (392).
One can understand at once why Erikson decided, when the book was published in 1969, to dedicate it to Martin Luther King [Jr.], the Gandhi disciple most familiar to Americans. Yet often the author seems to envision a reader already familiar with India and Gandhi and Eastern religions. The most important persons are sometimes referred to by more than one name, and the most crucial terms - dharma, ahimsa, swaraj, satyagraha - are cited repeatedly but seem slippery.
Erikson, who began his career as an art teacher and children's tutor, and studied Freudian psychoanalysis and Montessori educational methods, is best known as a development psychologist focused on stages of human development. As he says in beginning his psychic investigation of Gandhi, "what a man adds up to must develop in stages, but no stage explains the man" (98). The psychologist discerns both identity crisis and savior complex in Gandhi, noting both bouts of depression and self-glorifying statements that "I am the only available person who can handle the question." Not surprisingly, he pays special attention to Gandhi's relations with his father and mother, his wife, and his children, and notes how often in adulthood he seems to be replicating patterns from much earlier in his life. For example, Erikson sees in Gandhi a desire to encompass both paternal and maternal traits in seeking to guide and parent all of India, and he finds a precocious habit of testing or teasing others to persist into his political negotiations as an adult reformer. Familiar with the criticisms of Gandhi's inconsistency, Erikson both recognizes and excuses that trait: "There was, and there would be, much vanity in his poverty, much conceit in his humility, and much stubborn persistence in his helplessness, until he would find a leverage to make - for himself and for the destitute Indians - out of poverty, humility, and helplessness a new strength and a new instrument" (153).
Clearly this is no work of hagiography. Early in the work Erikson invites an implicit comparison of his solicitude for his wife's extreme bout of dysentery in contrast to Gandhi's frequent neglect of and harsh criticism of his own wife and children. Later the author notes Gandhi's impulse to treat the political as personal when he adopts a hunger strike after an accusation that he dines luxuriously while striking textile workers starve. Erikson admits that Gandhi "may seem more moodily personal, more mystically religious, and more formless in ideology than any of the charismatic men of his time" (395-6). Yet he believes that this deeply religious leader found a way "to make his spiritual power work in political realities" by hearing the clamor of the people when he listened to his inner voice (397) and by believing that God appears only in action (410). For him ahimsa meant truthful action, the readiness to get hurt and yet not to hurt (412).
Far and away my favorite section is Erikson's "personal word" of direct address to Gandhi in the form of a letter of critique and admiration. Here he presumes to speak bluntly to the long-dead, much admired "great soul" as a fellow therapist with Freud and himself. Erikson quotes Nehru as attributing to Gandhi a nationwide "psychological change, almost as if some expert in psychoanalytic methods had probed deep into the patient's past, found out the origins of his complexes, exposed them to his view, and thus rid him of that burden" (265). Or as Erikson himself claims, "the psychoanalytic method itself, by dint of always being a self-analysis paired with an attempt to understand another man's inner conflicts, is a counterpart to your Satyagraha, because it confronts the inner enemy nonviolently. Both you and Freud knew . . . that human insight begins in oneself" (244). By this point in his book Erikson has made clear the reasons he has revealed in such detail his own feelings and thoughts, just as he has sought to flesh out the particular context of each of his informants - he seeks to investigate and uncover what lies within himself and his interlocutors as well as within Gandhi. As a result, Erikson does not hesitate to explain, interpret and even augment Gandhi's teachings, for example by attacking the human tendency to "pseudo-speciation":
The term denotes the fact that while man is obviously one species, he appears and continues on the scene split up into groups (from tribes to nations, from castes to classes, from religions to ideologies) which provide their members with a firm sense of distinct and superior identity - and immortality. This demands, however, that each group must invent for itself a place and a moment in the very centre of the universe where and when an especially provident deity caused it to be created superior to all others, the mere mortals. (431)
An impatient reader might wish to start (and perhaps end) reading this book with the single middle chapter (pages 229-254) of this 450-page exploration. Nevertheless, the patient peruser can glean quite a few passages for further reflection:
- "I think that, like Luther, Mohan would have been a failure as a monk without politics, just as he was a failure as a barrister without reformatory zeal." (195-6)
- "we clinicians . . . in . . . our 'genetic' approach . . . reconstruct a child's development as if it were nothing but the product of his parents' virtues or vices. But I think that we, too, would be more true, as well as more helpful, if we would admit that each child is potentially a new person as well as a product of others" (250).
- "nonviolence, inward and outward, can become a true force only where ethics replaces moralism. And ethics, to me, is marked by an insightful assent to human values, whereas moralism is blind obedience; and ethics is transmitted with informed persuasion, rather than enforced with absolute interdicts" (251).
- "A mouse cannot love a cat. . . . You do not love him whom you fear. Immediately you cease to fear, you are ready for your choice - to strike or to refrain" (290)
- "in times of threatening change and sudden upheaval the idea of being the foremost species must be reinforced by a fanatic fear and hate of others" (432).
- "violence against the adversary and violence against the self are inseparable," requiring confession and a "double conversion" enabling one to accept and love both opponent and self and thereby "cure an unbearable inner condition" (438).