How does one become a secular saint? As Gandhi shows, enmity to the West is sufficient even in the absence of any other qualifications.
Even Gandhi’s racism doesn’t put off his Western admirers. Perhaps it should.
When he lived in South Africa, Ghandi declared that “respectable Indians” shouldn’t have to share facilities with “raw Kaffirs”. Following his petition, Durban’s authorities introduced a separate entrance for natives to the post office. Later that practice was called apartheid.
To continue the quotation in the title, yes, Hitler may perpetrate “a general massacre of the Jews by way of his first answer to the declaration of such hostilities [by the Allies]”. But that’s fine because death doesn’t matter – we’ll be reincarnated anyway.
“This manslaughter must be stopped,” continued the saintly personage. “You are losing; if you persist, it will only result in greater bloodshed. Hitler is not a bad man…”
These days, many young Indians share Gandhi’s view that Hitler wasn’t a bad man – to judge by the enduring popularity of Mein Kampf, published by dozens of publishers and bought in hundreds of thousands.
Gandhi’s views on Britain’s fight for survival sprang from his dim-witted notion of nonviolence.
In that spirit he advised the British how to wage war: “Invite Herr Hitler and Signor Mussolini to take what they want of the countries you call your possessions… If these gentlemen choose to occupy your homes, you will vacate them. If they do not give you free passage out, you will allow yourself, man, woman and child, to be slaughtered…”
At home, Gandhi’s propaganda of nonviolence was an extension of his fanatical use of devout Hinduism for political ends, specifically the dismemberment of the British Empire. As a by-product, this created much bad blood between Muslims and Hindus, with much good blood spilled during the resulting partition: up to two million were killed and 10 million displaced.
That’s what nonviolent demagogues like Gandhi tend to do: they thunder away and then somehow, unwittingly as they’ll later claim, pass the relay baton to their violent followers. Then they sit back and feign horror as heads roll. Unable to believe in a real God, they don’t even believe in consequences.
The same indifference to consequences permeates Ghandi’s perverse propaganda of celibacy in and out of marriage. In the tradition of Eastern solipsism, he internalised the whole concept without giving any thought to the social and demographic ramifications.
“It is the duty of every thoughtful Indian not to marry. [If he has to marry], he should abstain from sexual intercourse with his wife,” wrote Ghandi. Had he bothered to withdraw his head from his own rectum, he would have seen that within one generation his pet idea would spell the end of India.
His Western admirers, few of whom are particularly bright, don’t understand how fundamentally alien – and incomprehensible – this sort of thing is to our civilisation. We seek salvation of the flesh, Hindus seek salvation from the flesh: the former is vectored towards eternity; the latter only towards self.
At the age of 38, Ghandi took a vow of brahmacharya. That meant living a spiritual life, which for Hindus is bizarrely incompatible with even marital hanky-panky.
To test his fortitude, Ghandi liked to sleep with two naked girls, whom he claimed he didn’t touch, other than cuddling them in his arms. They did give him naked massages, which he claimed were chaste.
Even taking his word for it, somewhat reluctantly, one still has to be dismayed by some things he did admit to, such as exchanging enemas with his young bed mates. With friends like Gandhi, a girl did need enemas.
That, along with drinking one’s own urine, is among the more revolting practices of Yoga hygiene. Being a committed Occidental, I’ll have malt whisky any day – and I can’t for the life of me see the spiritually purifying aspect of an enema.
While supposedly abstaining from embracing naked girls, Gandhi prided himself on embracing poverty. To advertise that he began to wear primitive folk garb, which bit of histrionics had been prompted by Gandhi’s idol Tolstoy. However, his take on poverty was rather peculiar.
For example, on his ocean voyages Ghandi insisted on carrying huge vats of water from the Ganges, which alone was fit for washing his saintly body. That must have cost a pretty rupee, but what’s a few thousand here or there for a chap professionally committed to poverty?
The problem any reasonable Westerner ought to have with Gandhi’s ‘religion’ isn’t that it’s ungodly, but that it’s inhuman, not to mention hypocritical.
For example, he let his wife die of pneumonia rather than allowing a life-saving shot of penicillin to be administered. However, when Gandhi himself came down with malaria soon thereafter, he changed his views on alien medicines and graciously allowed doctors to save his life with quinine.
Our multi-culti barbarians, the dominant cultural type in today’s West, do choose odd personages for their idols. Gandhi got the ball rolling, which was then picked up by Nelson Mandela, who led a mass-murdering party that ran torture camps.
One could suggest more appropriate role models, but it’s no use. Things have gone too far.