Naye Samaj Ki Khoj #15

Nothing has broken—nothing has broken; nothing can be broken.

And has it become stronger?
Yes, certainly, certainly!

Was there any refutation of genius?
No, nothing. An idol can be broken; genius—no one can do anything to it.

When you first came to Junagadh, the people who were with you then don’t seem to be visible today. Why is that?
Just a few—two or four people, not more than that.

Were those two or four some ordinary people?
To me everyone is ordinary. I don’t measure worth from person to person. And I call them even more ordinary because they are not to be seen; had they shown up, they would not have proved so ordinary. Even if someone is opposed to me, there is no harm in showing up. And if one is opposed to me, then it is even more necessary to come and listen. They could ask me, discuss with me; if they want to oppose me, it is necessary to come. Running away is a sign of being ordinary.

So if a couple of people leave, it makes no difference. What happens with these few people is this—I face this difficulty in town after town—the people who invite me for the first time, who knows what image they carry of me; they invite me on that basis. After listening, I may turn out to be that sort of man, or I may not. If I’m not, they are going to leave. And I cannot do anything keeping them in mind; I cannot do anything just to make them stay. Nor can I keep in mind what you find pleasing and then speak. Nor can I speak with the idea of holding you back. I will keep on speaking what seems right to me. Who stays, who doesn’t—that is entirely secondary.

But my understanding is that even those few who have left will return within a year; they cannot really go. I think they cannot go, because if they think even a little, if they use even a little intelligence, there is no reason to go.

As just happened in Baroda. In Baroda—it was the same everywhere—friends came and told me that even those few who are not coming are listening to the tapes; they are sitting at home asking for news. And friends came and told me, “Don’t worry, they’ll be back within six months; they cannot go.”

If there is any strength and any truth in what is being said, one should return. And if there is no strength, then one should absolutely not return. There is no question about it.

And as for this, in our country we have the misfortune that people who speak, who think, first look toward the listener to see what he likes and what he dislikes. Then of course the crowd can be increased, if I keep saying what is in your mind. But there is no use in saying that; it has no value.

It’s possible—yes, that can happen. But if the crowd is there for that reason, it will sift itself out. Because I don’t speak only against Gandhi or Congress; I also speak against Marx and against Lenin. Now, suppose tomorrow someone comes to me…

Leave Lenin and Marx aside!

You’re not getting my point; please understand me. Those who came to me yesterday—if they came expecting I would speak in favor of Gandhi, and I did not—then they have drifted away. Whoever comes today with some expectation, if tomorrow I say something different, he will leave too. Only the one who has a search for truth can remain with me.

Therefore the crowd is not real. Those who truly listen are interested; the rest only nod their heads.

There are many kinds of listeners—of all sorts. Some listen reflectively; some come out of curiosity; others come simply because they see a crowd moving and join in. So you’ll find every kind there.

That is why I am saying: it is not a pointer that the ideology or theme you are conveying is finding an echo or acceptance.

No—there is no such question. I am not saying it should be accepted. I don’t say that at all.

Only because you said those who aren’t coming today will return tomorrow.

All I mean is this: my effort is to start thought. It is not my effort that what I say should be accepted.

Yes, thinking has begun and they have stopped coming.

No harm. Then thinking hasn’t really begun. If my words provoke even opposition in their minds, there is still no reason to stop. To stop listening is not a sign of thinking.

If what I say had become pointless—not worth hearing—then I could understand. But my words have not become pointless; they are thinking about them, discussing them, writing against me. If my words had become meaningless, that would be the end of it. But my words seem meaningful to them—even if they judge them wrong, they still find substance there. And if they stop listening while continuing to think and scheme against my meetings, I cannot call that a sign of thinking. If my words had truly become pointless, the matter would have ended—no further question, not even any need to speak against me.

But when they speak against me, talk about me, make efforts to prevent my meetings, then they are thinking about what I say. They take my words as meaningful—even if they call them wrong—there is significance in them. And I say: as long as that thinking continues, it is good. I consider that auspicious.

I also do not hold the view that whatever I say should be accepted. That is not my belief. My point is: one should not try to accept someone’s words; there should be reflection, contemplation, inquiry—that is enough. If I can serve merely as a jumping-board to help people think, that is enough; the matter ends there; nothing more is needed.

I have been surprised to discover that even Gandhi’s admirers in this country cannot create any churning around Gandhi—no questioning, no inquiry. Praise does not produce thought; building statues does not produce thought.

A movement doesn’t happen.

Yes, a movement doesn’t happen. I am not saying we need to conclude Gandhi is wrong. I am only saying Gandhi is worth inquiring into—and that inquiry should strike from all sides.

But you started with a negative approach. Why so?

Thought always begins from a negative approach; never from a positive one.

Was it intentionally shock therapy?

Yes—completely intentional. I am fully aware of what will happen.

Then those who don’t come perhaps think you are doing it intentionally. Do people believe you have started this intentionally?

Some people do think that way.

Just to make people think—shock therapy, something different. Just to break the lethargy. But why Gandhi?

Yes, one can ask why I chose Gandhi. For two or three reasons. First, Gandhi is the closest figure for this country.

For Gujarat or for all of India?

For all of India—more so for Gujarat, of course, but certainly for the whole of India. There isn’t much distance between us and him yet; the generation that lived close to him is still alive. And for India’s future, decisions will have to be taken in some relation to Gandhi—whether in support or in opposition. Gandhi will remain significant for the next hundred years in India—that’s my understanding—whether for or against is another matter. Therefore Gandhi should be thought about very clearly.

That was one reason.

Second, it seems to me that not only in India but outside India too, reflection on Gandhi has begun—sometimes it even seems that people outside India are thinking more. In this country, reflection has almost stopped. So Gandhi is just a beginning. I would say we should also try to reawaken reflection on Mahavira and the Buddha. But there is a great distance between them and us; so great that even stretching it is hard to bring living reflection on Mahavira.

Yet I feel that if we begin to reflect on Gandhi’s nonviolence, tomorrow we can create the climate to reflect on Mahavira’s nonviolence too. If Gandhi’s nonviolence itself is not examined, then to reflect on Mahavira’s nonviolence becomes very difficult.

So I began with Gandhi, knowingly, because he is close to us. Speaking on him may hurt our sentiments. The surprise, however, is that even those who love Gandhi are neither eager nor ready that Gandhi be reflected upon. Perhaps they are afraid—or their love is very weak—or they fear that inquiry may damage Gandhi’s image.

I don’t think so. Gandhi’s personality is so majestic that no kind of reflection can damage it. On the contrary, reflection will refine it, clarify it, and make it more valuable.

A few Gandhians have written to me. Some friends have even said, “We may not agree with you, but we are happy that an air for discussion has been created.” But very few—almost negligible. In general, the class that stands behind Gandhi now has so many vested interests that it is not ready for any reflection on Gandhi. It is ready to exploit Gandhi. It is ready to get whatever benefit can be had in his name.

The reverse is not true?

Not necessarily.

Because speaking against Gandhi also brings benefit nowadays.

Quite possible—yes, very possible. Even by speaking against Gandhi…

You may not attract an audience if you speak on some different subject, but if you speak against Gandhi you may find crowds and crowds—who may not be your followers, who may not believe in your philosophy or ideology.

Yes, I understand; that can happen.

So is it that in your shock therapy you want to say something else, but by taking Gandhi’s name—by speaking against Gandhi—you create or attract an audience?

If I were speaking only against Gandhi, that might be so. But I speak against many things. You understand my point, don’t you?

There are not only one but two things: one is to attract the audience; that’s why you are always—this is what’s said or believed today—always talking certain things that will attract people toward you, and then you try to infiltrate other ideas into their minds. Gandhi and sex and other things are only the points to attract audiences.

Yes, that could be; someone might do that. But the amusing thing is: I have no purpose in attracting an audience. I am not building a party, not forming a sect, not making members, not making disciples.

That may be followed by somebody else. That part of the work may be carried out by somebody else after some time.

As long as I am alive, I won’t let anyone do it.

That has always happened in India.

Yes, it always happens. And it should not happen. My effort—indeed a part of my movement—is that it should not happen. As far as I know, I will not allow it. Because in my view, the moment followers gather behind an idea, the idea begins to be distorted and exploited. As soon as a party, a sect, an organization arises around an idea, vested interests begin—and the idea dies right there. After that, self-interest begins to work in the idea’s place.

So I hold that ideas should never take organized form; thought should always remain an unorganized process.

It should not take organized form.

It should not.

It should not be a continuous process of thinking.

No, the process should be continuous. What should not arise is organization—followers, institutions, establishments, the count of disciples. As soon as that happens, thought becomes exploitative. Hindu or Muslim, Jain or Christian, Gandhi or Marx—every one of these, when organized, proves exploitative in the end. Organization brings exploitation in its wake.

In the coming world it should be that ideas are not organized. The process of thinking should be continuous, but, for example, I say something to you, and you think for and against it—that begins the continuity—but you are not bound to me, not organized with me; no relationship is formed between us.

Suppose in Junagadh ten thousand people are listening to me. If I try to bind those ten thousand, then attracting an audience may have some meaning.

You understand my point, don’t you? I state my piece and for me the matter is over. I go my way, they go theirs. I don’t even know who was listening and who was not. The continuity of thought remains: they will think about what I said, for or against; they may decide or not; the thought will move within them. But in that continuity I keep no relationship: I don’t organize them, I don’t gather them.

Therefore there can be no purpose in merely attracting an audience. There could be a purpose only if we wanted to use the gathered crowd—to build a political party or a religious sect. Only then would attracting an audience make sense.

Aren’t all these things pseudo-preparations for that?

Not in my view. Because I am already against it. Friends all around suggest I should organize, create a structure. I am against it; I am against propping it up. I neither want to build any organization nor to give any system. In fact, I want existing systems to break, so thought becomes free and humanity becomes more thoughtful.

Building of tradition is always bad?

Always bad.

And traditional ideas are also…?

Tradition as such—tradition as such.

Still, to start your movement of ideas, for people to receive it, you do use hypnosis.

Not at all—never. That is also a falsehood.

Do you believe traditional ideas are always false or bad?

Yes. The moment an idea becomes tradition, it starts to go wrong.

It is hard to accept that.

That’s another matter. I don’t want you to accept it. That’s not the issue.

Right from Schopenhauer to…

The moment any idea becomes tradition, it becomes dead. Then we don’t hold it by thinking—we hold it because of tradition. It sits on our minds like a dead fossil.

Tradition becomes stagnant and dead, but there may be some ideas for all times—eternal.

No idea is eternal, nor can it be. A thought-free experience can be eternal.

You may call it truth.

Yes. And that truth is not an idea. What we call truth is an experience. It can never be bound in thought. Whatever we bind in ideas is always time-bound, contemporary—having meaning in some situation, and then…

Also regarding the ideas in the Upanishads or in the Gita?

Regarding everything—whatever can be said, whatever can be bound in words, can never be eternal.

Yesterday only you said they can become milestones—Life of Mine, the Gita, and all that.

Yes—think of it a bit in the negative sense. By tradition I mean only this: you should always leave it and move ahead. The only meaning of tradition is: leave it and go beyond it. You see my meaning? It means: always drop it and move ahead. And the more you move ahead by leaving it, the more your reach becomes non-traditional, anti-traditional.

But in the Gita and the Upanishads you have to enter into the ideas themselves, the truths themselves. You don’t have to leave them, as you say.

Ideas and truth are different things.

The ideas expressed by the Gita and the Upanishads are true.

That is what the one who holds the Gita will say. The one holding the Quran will say something else. The follower of Mahavira will say a third thing. You call true what you hold. Whether it is true or not is not the question. Whatever you clutch, you call it truth.

We don’t hold it and therefore it becomes truth; it is truth and therefore we hold it.

How do you know that? You were born in a Hindu home…

Just as you “know” that the traditional is untrue—that all traditional things are untrue.

My point is simply this: I say, yes, Krishna experienced truth. But the moment Krishna speaks of that experience, it is no longer truth—it has become mere words. And we cling to those words; the harder we cling, the more dangerous it becomes. The sooner we can drop them, the closer we come to understanding our own truth…

I mean that you will experience that truth only when you realize it yourself, naturally; then the system is mere idea.

Yes—indeed. They are mere ideas until you have your own experience. My emphasis is on the personal experience of truth.

They cannot be dismissed as useless then.

You didn’t grasp what I mean by useless. By useless I mean only this: don’t mistake them for truth. They are ideas.

Words by themselves are not truth.

Yes—if we keep only that in mind, the matter is complete. But the traditional mind does not; it grips words as truth. For him the Gita itself becomes truth; then he worships the book and places it on his head.

If one tries to enter into the experience of those truths…?

You can never enter into someone else’s experience. You can only ever enter into your own. There is simply no other way.

Naturally that is eternal; it is meant for all and not one—this truth.

What are you referring to? Truth does not exist in a book; only words do.

For example, the soul as spoken of in the Vedas, Upanishads, the Gita…

And the Buddha has refuted it completely. Who, then, is eternal—Krishna or Buddha?

He might have used another terminology…

My point—nothing more—is that these are devices for saying something; if you cling to the devices, danger arises.

I understand—then you are right that experience is the main thing and words are not very important.

Yes. All emphasis is there; keep only that in mind. If you do, tradition becomes meaningful—because then we think over it, criticize it, and move ahead. Tradition has only one use: that it can be left behind so we can go beyond it. The only use of what has happened till yesterday is that it takes us forward into tomorrow.

Ideas are always evolving.

That is exactly the difficulty: within evolving ideas, how can truth be evolving?

You may call them ideas that way.

It’s not a matter of phrasing. Truth means that which cannot evolve.

That is relative.

Truth means the perfect, the complete—where no further development is possible.

Truth—that is evolving.

If you say truth is evolving, it means untruth is mixed within it—otherwise what would evolve?

Limitations on that—for that is personal truth, that is evolving.

The moment we say truth develops, it implies untruth is mixed in it. But untruth is never mixed in truth. Truth is either truth, or it is not—there is no middle way, no admixture. Therefore truth is never evolving; it is always absolute! We are evolving—we can evolve toward truth.

A man sees a post embedded in the ground from a mile away and takes it to be a person standing. From half a mile, he thinks it’s a tree. From close up, he sees it is a post. In all three situations, truth has not changed—what is, is. The person’s mind evolved—came closer. Evolution happens in the mind; there is no evolution in truth. And the day the mind becomes fully evolved, it knows truth. Until then, it cannot. Our idea about truth can evolve; truth itself does not.

What is your view regarding rebirth—the doctrine of rebirth?

I dislike doctrines—as such, I dislike doctrines.

Is there rebirth?

If you ask it as experience, not as doctrine, then I would say: why do you want to ask whether there is rebirth? We do not even know what life is now—what this life is—and we ask whether there was life before, whether there will be life after. We don’t even know what the life within us is—whether it is—and still we ask. Understand this a little. Why does the thought arise that we existed before and will exist after? And why doesn’t the thought arise, “What am I now?”

No—yesterday you said that mind has been accumulating over lifetimes…

Listen to me. What I am saying is this: it is essential to know what the life within me is now—to know that. Whoever comes to know it also comes to know that life was before and will be after. Then it isn’t doctrine. Without any knowledge of life, rebirth, incarnation and so on are mere doctrines—of no use. In fact, dangerous. Dangerous because through these doctrines we only reduce our fear of death—nothing more. We settle the belief that we won’t have to die—and that’s all. Societies that more strongly believe in rebirth are more frightened of death. In India, nowhere else on earth are people so afraid of death—and here the belief in rebirth is also strongest.

So our curiosity—might it not be only a way of escaping the fear of death? Why ask whether there was a previous birth? What’s the need? Why is there eagerness to know? The eagerness is simply this: that someone assure us we will not die, that we will live on—then we can relax.

It is the fear of death, the fear of death that keeps working. I am not interested in that. I am interested in this: if there is a longing to search for life, then first seek to know this life within. And the moment you know what life is, you also know what it was and what it will be—that comes as an inevitable result.

Rebirth is not a doctrine—it is the realization of some people. And it becomes meaningful only if it becomes your realization; as a doctrine it is utterly useless. Do you see the difference? As doctrine, useless. Clinging to doctrine and repeating it is meaningless. Better not to bind yourself to any doctrine at all—because doctrines do not take you into inquiry; they block it. If the mind becomes fixed that there is rebirth, you won’t undertake any search—the matter is closed. Even the transformations that fear of death could have provoked now stop. A deadness sets in.

Is fear of death necessary?

No—not necessary; it is. I am not saying, keep it.

If fear of death goes…

It should go—indeed. Only, it will go when you have the experience of life. Once you experience that you are life, fear of death disappears, because simultaneously you experience you cannot die. We do not have the experience of life—hence the fear. The fear of death is simply ignorance—a not-knowing of life.

What we do is: without caring to know life, we cling to the doctrine of rebirth just to escape fear—“There is life ahead; death does not exist; the soul is immortal.” Grabbing that, we only suppress our fear of death. Suppressed, not dissolved.

No, not fear of death. But to know life, isn’t it necessary to know who I was before—my past?

You can know that only by knowing life. There is no way to know it through doctrines.

It is said you have revised your stand, improved your stand regarding your…

Not at all; not even a little. I am saying what I have said all along.

When people refrain from your ideas, you just revised…

Not at all. I am saying what I said. It may appear improved because the reporting has improved. I said what I said the first time. The difference is: the first time, parts were left out in the reports—quotes taken out of context—creating an impression. For example: I said that if we continue to uphold the spinning wheel, the hand spindle, and such primitive means, the nation will commit suicide—papers reported I called Gandhi the murderer of the nation.

You were not driving at that point?

Not at all—absolutely not. But such a meaning can be drawn. And it was. They printed it as big headlines: I call Gandhi the murderer of the nation.

No, such a meaning can be drawn.

Of course it can—meanings can be drawn as one wishes.

And you want to try to create a stir—so many people should think on that.

Yes, certainly—no harm in that.

Was it not a pseudo thing? You said something in one context, something else in another; only one context was given, the second half not given…

Yes—this was misinterpretation.

Misinterpretation?

Completely.

But not misinterpretation—there was intention behind it?

I cannot say. It is hard to know intentions. As for my intention—

No, your intention!

No—there was no such intention in me. I had no idea. I only realized, when it was printed, that such a meaning could be taken.

But you did want to give some shock.

I certainly want to give a shock. But that does not mean shocks I have not given should be thrust upon me in my name. That I absolutely do not want.

All right—about hypnosis, too. It was reported that you said Jawaharlal was doing it, Hitler was doing it, and I am doing it. Is that true reporting?

That is utterly muddled.

Then what did you say?

I said only this, in some context: among those who have had great impact on humanity, there are many kinds. Some knowingly use hypnotic methods; in other cases, people become hypnotized without the speaker knowing it. I gave the example of Hitler. Hitler used hypnotic methods knowingly—fully planned. He even writes about it; he took counsel on how to influence people maximally. In his meetings the entire hall would be darkened, a bright light only on Hitler—like a cinema—so that no one could see anyone else; they would be forced to keep their gaze on him. The platform was built so high that the eyes must be lifted at a certain angle; hypnotists say that if the eyes are kept up at a particular angle for five to seven minutes, a person becomes suggestible; logic weakens. All this was planned.

So I said: people like Hitler used planned hypnosis. Nehru did not use planned hypnosis, but people were hypnotized; he had no idea he was hypnotizing, yet people were hypnotized. From this, they joined the two statements and concluded that I called Nehru and Hitler the same kind of man.

No, about you.

And the amusing thing is: nothing had been asked about me. Nothing was said about me. A journalist traveling with me on the train told me he had many ailments, and someone had suggested that if he went to Maxcoli, hypnosis might help. He asked my view.

I said: it may help—if his troubles are imaginary, hypnosis can help. He asked, “Do you believe I can be helped?” I said, “Certainly.” He asked, “If I come to you, could you hypnotize me and help me?” I said, “I don’t have the time. But if I had, I could help—on one condition: that your ailments are imaginary. If they are real, hypnosis won’t help.”

He asked if I believed hypnosis could help. I said, “Certainly—it’s scientific. If the pain is imaginary, through suggestion it can be removed.” For example, someone has a headache. It may be real; if real, hypnosis won’t help. It may be imaginary; if so, by inducing trance and suggesting ‘the pain is gone,’ it will disappear—because it was never there.

So I told him it could help. “If possible, see Maxcoli; and if ever I have time, come to me for two or three days.” He then went and said that I hypnotize people, that I believe in hypnosis, that I say I can help through hypnosis. All of this was a personal conversation about his ailment.

And it was also said that in your organized gatherings you do hypnosis.

All of that is false—entirely false. How did it arise? That gentleman reported our talk, and then tied it to what journalists had seen at the Nargol camp: that during meditation some people began to cry, tears flowing; some laughed; bodies shook. They saw such things and, linking them to that personal talk, concluded that I hypnotize people, and that is why such things happen.

This time I have not seen the arrangements of your meeting. Last time, I saw actually that your platform was quite high—a raised platform. And when you ask everybody to go for prayer or something, all lights were put off except the light on your head.

No, no—then some light must have remained by mistake; that can happen. But I say, turn all the lights off.

No, I mentioned it because you said Hitler kept light on himself—since if people keep eyes open…

I understand your point. It could happen. But when we sit at night for meditation, we have everyone close their eyes. So even if a light remained on my head, it was meaningless.

But you do tell people to close their eyes! Whether they do or not—who knows?

I understand. But even if there was a light on me, it was not by my arrangement; I prefer all lights be turned off.

We had read about hypnosis and then saw the arrangements here; that’s why we all…

Yes—things can be joined like that. They can join in the mind. Now, I said “a platform can be raised to hypnotize,” but for speaking, too, a platform must be raised. These are different matters. If the platform is too low, you won’t be able to see me.

If it is at a particular height only…

Yes—if it is carefully arranged at a particular height and angle, the effects can be hypnotic. And that can happen unknowingly, too. This is what I had said: Hitler did it knowingly; Nehru had no idea, but it could happen unknowingly. And mass hypnosis—whether deliberate or not—damages the mind, because it reduces the capacity to think.

I am entirely the opposite kind of person; I say the capacity to think should increase. The more critical and thoughtful a person can be, the more valuable he is. So how could I be in favor of hypnosis? What I had said to that journalist was purely in the sense of therapy.

For a single individual.

For a single individual I said: if ailments are mental, imaginary, hypnosis can help. That is scientific; it can help. He understood that I say, “When I do hypnosis it helps, and when others do it, it harms.” All this was then pieced together and presented that way.

Now, for instance, you noticed a bulb was on; I might not even know. You can keep that in mind; tomorrow if I say Hitler kept light on himself, you can join the two. They can certainly be joined—no doubt.

Since there wasn’t clarity then, that’s how it seemed.

Naturally—it all joins very easily. I am opposed to all hypnotic methods—except as therapy.

Except therapy.

Except therapy. To influence a person in any way without engaging their reason is to harm their soul. Because then you don’t give the soul a chance—you catch it from behind, by trick. And that trick-ensnaring is to enslave the soul. Apart from therapy, every hypnotic use harms the human being.

They are inventing many techniques lately. I just read that in America, for advertising, a new experiment is being tried. They advertise in films; there is growing opposition—that you cannot advertise this way, because you are influencing our psyche. We go to see a film, and it’s “Buy Lux toilet soap!” We read the paper—“Buy Lux toilet soap!” You suggest to our mind like this; gradually Lux captures us and we buy it. You are not appealing to our reason; you are suggesting—and harming us. You can foist a bad soap on us. This is oppression of the public. Awareness about this is rising in America; within ten years there will be laws that you cannot influence people this way; it is an illegitimate method.

Shouldn’t such a law also come for our preachers?

It should—sometime it should. Because all methods of influencing without engaging reason do harm to man.

So now they have invented a technique: while the film runs, they will not show you “Lux toilet soap” plainly on the screen. The film continues and, for very brief fractions of a second, the Lux advertisement flashes. You won’t consciously register it. Out of ten thousand people, perhaps ten will notice it. But your subconscious mind receives the impact. Experiments show it works—and it’s even more dangerous, because you won’t even see it consciously. It will just flash and leave a negative imprint on your mind. When you go to the market you will feel like buying Lux—and that will rise from your subconscious.

That is even more dangerous!

It is dangerous. This is what I am saying: hypnosis suggests many dangerous paths. Stalin used it openly; Hitler used it openly. The whole world of advertising uses it; politicians use it. Religious leaders have used it the longest—first of all. Others followed later. This entire use does not allow the human soul to be free.

So I am fundamentally opposed. I say people should be educated about hypnosis so that each person can stay alert—aware of whether he’s being influenced by hypnosis. I am in favor of that. And yet the newspapers discuss that I favor hypnosis and that I hypnotize.

All right—just as you have clarified the truth about hypnosis, what else has been propagated against you that you don’t stand for but the press has propagated?

Almost this: things have been twisted. For instance, about sex—what I said was: in my view, for at least seven years small children should not be forced to wear clothes at home. Let them play naked as long as they like. When they go outside, let them wear clothes. And up to fourteen, if at home they want to bathe naked in the bathroom, or change clothes in the courtyard, there should be no harsh insistence. Because I understand that the more children become familiar with each other’s bodies, the less attraction remains in their later lives toward the body.

This was twisted to present that I want thirteen- or fourteen-year-old children to roam the streets naked. Twisted further: that I support nudist clubs; that I want people to walk naked in the streets. My point was only this: a lifelong intense desire to see each other naked creates obscene posters, obscene stories, obscene films. If we want to stop obscene stories and films, nothing will stop until we find ways to weaken that curiosity of the mind. And the finest way is to let children’s curiosity about the male and female body be so simply satisfied that later it does not tug at their life-breath with fresh demands for titillation.

But this is twisted; arguments are run for and against. What I said—and still say—is that for as long as possible we should not make children body-conscious—conscious about nakedness. That is healthier.

Curiosity is one thing; and what arises after fourteen or fifteen is another.

Completely different—I don’t deny it. That urge will remain—but it will be normal. Today it has become abnormal. For example, a boy of fifteen or sixteen—or even twenty—being charmed by a girl he sees is understandable. But to throw stones at her, to throw acid—this is abnormal. To write a love letter—understandable, perfectly normal. But to throw acid or stones—utterly abnormal.

Given our present personality structure, the normal urge remains very little; abnormal obsessions are many.

I was long in a college and was startled by what is happening—how hard it has become for a girl to walk through a campus; she becomes a victim, a prey, surrounded… Everyone knows these things, and yet they are tolerated. No one thinks what can be done to break this.

Is it not due to environment?

Yes, the environment. And it is to break the environment that I say all this. The more sex-suppressive the environment, the more abnormality it creates.

I am not saying “sex and environment” in the sense you imply. Literature and film are environment—but why do they arise? They arise because the mind demands them; otherwise they would not arise.

Does the mind necessarily demand them?

It demands them because you have suppressed; otherwise it would not. For example, Bertrand Russell writes in his autobiography: when I was young in England, even to see a woman’s toe was difficult; the skirt was so long it touched the ground. If ever a toe showed, sexual arousal arose. And now, at ninety, I see women moving with thighs bare, and even seeing to the thigh does not arouse what seeing a toe did seventy or eighty years ago. He wonders—what is the matter?

The toes were concealed; so toes became an attraction. The more we hide, the more attraction grows. And as attraction grows, the desire to see grows. Then we find other ways to see—we go to films; we print books; we look at dirty pictures. And then we say: dirty films and pictures are spoiling the environment.

I say: the environment is already spoiled; hence dirty films and pictures arise. No—the “environment” is not basic. If you show a naked woman’s picture to a tribal, he won’t take much interest—nowhere near your interest—because it is beyond his understanding what there is to get excited about; women are naked around him.

I used that as an illustration—and the papers printed that I want to make the whole world tribal. I was offering an illustration of distortion. I don’t want to make anyone tribal. I said only this: by looking at a tribal mind, it should occur to us that where women are naked, there is no curiosity to look at nude pictures of women.

No, I am not saying that either, I am not saying that either. What I am saying, I am giving you only as an example. I am not saying it should become like that, that we should hold on to that idea. All I am saying, only this much, is that the tribal mind does not have the same obsession with sex. Why not? Why is there no attraction for a nude picture for him? And why is there so much attraction for us?

We are so attracted because the child’s natural curiosity to see the body has been stunted, blocked, suppressed. That suppressed desire then seeks other routes to look at naked bodies. And these routes are more dangerous. Because when you see a real naked body—now here is the surprising thing—if you see a naked body directly, the matter ends. But if you look at a nude picture, the matter does not end. A nude picture is far more alluring—much more than an actual body. Because a nude picture is designed entirely to pull and magnetize your mind. The body is one thing; in the picture, whatever you particularly want is highlighted and shown. It is prepared to draw you in. So the nude picture is more naked than the naked person. A naked person is never that naked.

So I am not saying become tribal. I am only saying it is important to understand whether we can raise our children in such a way that they are healthier and more normal about the body. And my understanding is that children can indeed be brought up to be healthier and more normal. For that, it is necessary that we do not load their minds, from childhood, with excessive body-consciousness.

Right now, a little three-year-old runs around the house naked and we go, “Shhh! Come on, put your clothes on quickly!” That child begins to feel that being naked is some great sin. He becomes frightened of the body; he gets scared too. He knew nothing about the body yet; it meant nothing to him. He could stand there naked without even a thought. We filled him with fear; we frightened him. We began to impose our mind on that child.

What I am saying is that until sexual maturity arrives, children should have a normal, healthy view of the body, and we should not frighten them about it.

Clothing—when we dress a child—is it only for sex?
No, no, not only for sex. But it has, in effect, become only about sex. If you are covering the body…

We are actually looking from that angle. We are actually looking today from that angle.
Yes, yes, that has become the reason. You dress a child for cold and heat and sun—no one objects to that. But there is sexuality involved in how we clothe children…

But it need not be so.
Go and observe, house by house, and you will see: you are not only dressing them to protect from sun or cold; you are also—more so—dressing them to hide the body’s nakedness, to cover the body so it does not get revealed. The fear of nakedness seated in our minds is thrust upon children. That fear then works underneath and turns into obsession.

So all I am saying is only this much. And again, I do not say that what I say must be accepted. All I am saying is that we need reflection and inquiry on these matters of life.

Now, Vinoba-ji says don’t put up nude posters.
Those posters cannot be stopped—they will appear. Because man wants to see nude posters. If you don’t put them on the wall, they will be sold in the marketplace; they will be printed in books and sold. They will be sold; they cannot be stopped. Nude posters will end only on the day when the fear and panic about nakedness inside man himself…

It will find an outlet somewhere.
Yes, that is what I am saying: our training from childhood will have to be changed completely. Bertrand Russell opened a school in England…

What I am saying is: when a poster is of a nude child, people don’t feel that attraction.
Yes, that won’t be there. That’s fine; it won’t be. But if you keep children entirely swaddled and hidden, even children begin to develop an attraction to see nakedness. There are even cases of abuse with little girls—five- or six-year-old girls. And this is the height of abnormality. What is happening? How can it go this far? If we go on only repressing, the final result will be this.

Now, the experiences of the nudist clubs that have started in Europe and America are very revealing. I picked up two or four books in which people have written about their experiences in nudist clubs. Their observations are quite astonishing.

First, they had thought it would be immensely pleasurable where all men and women would be naked, and they would be thrilled to look, perhaps never taking their eyes off. But they say that after fifteen minutes the whole matter was forgotten—after fifteen minutes it became pointless that people were naked. In fact, one man wrote: when I saw those women naked in the nudist club, they did not seem as attractive; but when they were putting on their clothes to come out, they appeared more attractive. The same women looked more attractive while dressing than while naked.

In truth, what is there in a naked body to be attracted to? The attraction is cultivated; we have created it by many devices. The more we have forbidden, the more it has grown.

But for the continuation of the world, is this attraction a necessary thing or not?
Healthy attraction is absolutely necessary, absolutely. Not unhealthy, not sick. A woman being attracted to a man is understandable; a man being attracted to a woman is understandable. But let the attraction be healthy, auspicious, for the beautiful—an attraction that raises life upward. That makes sense. Our attraction, however, pulls life downward, not upward.

There have been cases of intercourse with dead women—taken out of graves. Such attraction cannot be called auspicious or healthy. It is madness, pure madness. A woman dies, and her corpse is taken from the coffin and violated. With men doing such things, we have to ask: what has gone wrong? What has happened to them? My point is…

It is so strange!
Yes! This matter demands some thought: it has become a matter of madness; it is no longer attraction.

So there should be no physical attraction!
No, no, I am not saying that. I am only saying: this too is called attraction! But it is perversion.

Yes, it is perversion!
Exactly—that is my point. May attraction remain, but let it be auspicious, not perverted; healthy, something that lifts life higher—that makes sense. That we are attracted to each other’s bodies is also understandable. But that attraction should not be morbid and sick.

Right now almost all attraction is morbid and sick—thoroughly so. Our attraction is not healthy. And to break this diseased state, something must be done. What is necessary is that we advance a person by acquainting them with life’s realities as much as possible. The more life’s truths are known, the healthier a person becomes. The more life’s truths are hidden, the more unhealthy a person becomes.

Children will learn all the things you are hiding from them. Better that you don’t hide; better that you explain clearly and in an orderly way. Full education in sex should be given—complete education in sexology.

Sex knowledge will be there. But what is the use of remaining undressed?
I am not saying that. Why are you getting frightened?

No, I’m not frightened. I want to understand.
I am not saying remain undressed. I am saying that the insane fascination with dressed and undressed should thin out. I am not saying anyone should roam around naked anywhere. But if a person wants to sit naked in his home to bathe, if a child wants to bathe naked at home, the whole household should not go crazy—“What is happening!”

No, no, no. Where! We only say such things. Perhaps they don’t have proper clothes, they have only rags—but with rags too we manage the same thing that someone in the costliest clothes would do. It’s a matter of the mind. Even when clothes aren’t available—even when there are no clothes—we still do the same. And still I would say to you: village children don’t have that allure your city children have. The village child is healthier.

“That is for decent looking. Parents feel the children should look decent, and that’s why they ask, not for sex reasons.”

That “decent”… Sex itself is an indecency for you. The present state of sex is also an indecency. If a child asks you any question about sex, you stop him: “This is an indecent question! Don’t ask this in front of everyone! Don’t ask this—be quiet!” Your notion of decency is very much sexual.

“Individually, I will not object. I, being a doctor, will answer the question.”

I’m not speaking about you. Yes, you are absolutely right. Yes, I want everyone to answer. And not everyone is a doctor. And this message has to reach all of them so they can give these answers, so they can give healthy answers—then it can be a good thing. But these things can be spoiled. What I was saying was precisely this: all these things can be spoiled.

You were just talking about Russell and his school.

Yes, Russell opened a school in England. Even in England it could not be kept running. Because in that school they tried to let children play naked on the school grounds, to bathe naked in the school swimming pool. So even in a country like England it became difficult to run that school. Although the few children who studied there—the few, some thirty or forty children Bertrand Russell had—and then the school had to be closed under the pressure of public opinion because it became intolerable—those children who grew up there (the school ran for five to seven years), whoever went and spent time with them said those children were very healthy, healthy in many ways. The neuroses that have gripped us, they did not have at all. They were more natural and clear.

Of course they would be! My only point is this: there is no benefit in hiding any truth of life. Hiding life’s truths causes harm—because the effort to uncover truth will go on. The cleaner and more straightforward life is—the less it is hidden—the healthier a person can be.

They have a great place—indeed, a very great place. But in my view their place is as a result. If someone lives life with discernment, one day he will come to faith. But that faith will not be opposed to discernment; it will arise from discernment. The faith you commonly call “faith” is anti-discernment—it comes beforehand, without discernment. I am against that. The faith that arrives without discernment, and in opposition to it—I am against it. That is blindness. My understanding is that if a person lives with discernment, faith will also arise in his life, but it will be the fruit of discernment, the outcome of his thinking.

We talk so much about devotion, but the devotion that is blind and stands upon belief has no value for me. In my view, a person who inquires also attains to love in life; a thinking person can one day reach a space where love begins to flow from within toward all of life—that devotion I would call devotion.

But I am against blind devotion. I am against belief that comes before discernment. What comes through discernment is a different matter; I am not opposed to that. And it should come only through discernment. Even if you have faith, it should stand on the very foundation of discernment; your faith should draw its strength from discernment. I am not against that. But I am entirely against what commonly goes on in the name of faith and devotion, because it is wholly anti-discernment, anti-intellect.

The capacity for thought to become utterly pure.