The Relevance of the Bhagavadgita to Humanity

The First Six Chapters of the Bhagavadgita

by Swami Krishnananda

Chapter 7: Can War Ever be Justified?

It is easy to enter into the spirit, the intention, the purpose and the meaning of what the Bhagavadgita is attempting to tell us because, as we know already, it is said to be a message come from Eternity. 'Eternity' is the word. It was a grand, cosmical circumstance. The word 'cosmical' is inadequate; something more than that it was, which was the source of this message, and it defied all limitations of time and space – defied in the sense that it overcame all these limitations.

It is necessary for us to properly appreciate what it would mean to break through the limitations of space and time. What would happen to us if we are not to think in space and not to think in time? If we are to speak something not in space and not in time, what would we say? Now, we may be under the impression that we will tell some grand, perpetual message if we are not in space and not in time. It is not like that. We will not be saying merely some grand thing. It is not possible for us to imagine that kind of state. Even when we try to understand and appreciate and place ourselves in the context of there being no space and no time, we will be thinking in space and time only. Even in our attempt to overcome space and time, we are in space and time. So even our non-spatial attempt is bound by spatial limitations.

Therefore, human beings that we are, we may not be able to fully appreciate that divine occurrence. We do not know what word to use to describe it. No word will be sufficient. How do we speak, how do we explain ourselves in the presence of what we consider as the Almighty Creator of the universe? Even when we conceive the Almighty, we have our own human way of thinking. There is no other way except the human way. Such is the depth into which man has sunk into the human way of thinking. We have been saturated through every pore of our personality, saturated through every pore of our being, by the intrusion of the conditions of space, time and objects. There is no other way of thinking except through objects. God is an object for us, and a message is nothing but a word written or spoken. It cannot be anything else. But this is none of this. It is not a sound uttered by the tongue of a person, and it is not conceivable by us. And when I said it is Eternity that gave the message for the solution of temporal problems, we may not be able to accommodate ourselves to this peculiar condition where the temporal stands face to face with the Eternal. It is man facing God. We do not know what it means, what it can mean. Our heads shall reel even to think what it could be. How would we face the Almighty?

There is no such thing as that. We cannot face that condition. We get transfigured when we come face to face with that circumstance. We become another thing altogether. The temporal, if at all it is to be accepted that it can face the Eternal, has to get suffused by the law of the Eternal. It is like seeking an interview, to speak in homely language, with a lofty personality, and we will adjust ourselves to the circumstances of that person. We would not go as we are at your home. The person with whom we are seeking an interview may be in a very highly placed, lofty position, and we have to adjust ourselves in every way to the circumstance of that person. In that way, the temporal may have to adjust itself to the conditions of Eternity to understand what Eternity can say.

There is a little sentence towards the end of the Mahabharata where the very same person who was told this Gita, Arjuna, wanted to hear it a second time. Sri Krishna was sitting near him in a garden, as it were. “I would like to hear once again, great Lord, what you told me in the beginning of the war.”

“Oh, no,” Krishna said. “It cannot be repeated.” The reply of Sri Krishna was in half a sentence, half a verse, in the Mahabharata. Paraṁ hi brahma kathitaṁ yogayuktena tan mayā (M.B. 14.16.12): “When I spoke that, I was in the state of the Absolute. It cannot be summoned a second time like that.” It is difficult to understand the meaning of this little half sentence. “I was in a state of unification with the Supreme Absolute. In that state it was spoken, and once again it cannot be summoned.”

Well, we cannot understand what it means. That it cannot be summoned frequently shows that we cannot be always friends with the Eternal. We cannot be walking with friendship, shaking hands with the Eternal on the streets. Maybe sometimes we can befriend it, but not every day. It is not possible. Why it is not possible, let each one of us understand for one's own self.

The point is, it was an unusual revelation which was necessitated by a usual occurrence in the circumstance of a social situation: how one should behave in a given condition. At that time, it was a simple question: how one should behave in the circumstance of that impending battle. It was a question that arose in the mind of one person, Sri Arjuna, in the environment of a battlefield where many were arrayed in the fray, and we may ask why this question arose. It was a simple thing. It was very clear what the matter was. What is the need for a question? Everyone knew what it was, and it was decided long before. To understand what a battle is, too much thinking is not necessary as to some extent it is clear to everyone's mind. But what was it that was not clear to the mind of Arjuna? He puts his position in a few phrases, as we have it mentioned in the First Chapter of the Bhagavadgita itself. It is a long haranguing, but the point is simple, which is a point which every one of us also will raise in our day-to-day activities.

We have some doubts in our mind, lurking at the back of our conscience, when we engage ourselves in any kind of action. Sometimes we suspiciously go ahead with our duties. What is the outcome of this action? We are not clear about it. It may be the proper thing; it may not be the proper thing. “I have been somehow pushed into this situation, and will I succeed in it?” We are not always sure of the success of our engagements. Nobody does something to get defeated in the adventure. Even when we go to war, our intention is not to get defeated, much less to die there. The intention is to win victory and return. Nobody says, “Let me go and die there.” We say, “I shall win victory, and come.” But there is a fear. “Is it certain that I shall win victory? Why should not the other side win victory? There is a possibility.” Where there is a doubt that the adventure may not end in success, is it worthwhile undertaking that adventure? Why not keep quiet? Why take the first step at all because no one can be sure of the consequences of one's action, inasmuch as the conditions of the fructification of the result of an action do not seem to be all in one's own hand. Even if we sow seed in the field, it is not one hundred percent certain that the expected crop will come because many other factors are there conditioning the growth and the maturing of the crop.

There was another side of it which disturbed Arjuna's mind, apart from the question of the success or the defeat. It was a war. Even today politicians, statesmen and social philosophers do not seem to have come to the conclusion as to the meaning of war itself. What is its justification? There are those who say it cannot be justified under any circumstance. It is a beastly behaviour of man and, therefore, it cannot be justified. Now I am digressing a little from the point I raised, in order to throw light on some interesting issue which occupies many people's minds these days. It is a totally unjustifiable behaviour of man, that which we call battle or war, yes. So it should not be there. If everyone in the world says it should not be there, it will not be there. Yes, fine. Does it imply that everyone should accept that war should not be there? We feel that everyone should accept that it should not be there.

Now, why is it that everyone does not accept that it should not be there? It is because of various reasons which are psychological, and perhaps bordering upon cosmical evolution. Do we want that every man in the world should think the same thought? Very fine, if it could be possible that everyone should think the same thought. There should be no difference in thinking. This does not happen. Because of anthropological, historical, natural reasons, we will not expect all individuals to behave in the same way. And the world being a house of many living beings apart from merely the human, the subhuman level also should be considered part of natural history. The world is not a house only for human beings. You would wish that every living being should have the same attitude always. If that were the case, there cannot be one pouncing on the other, one exploiting the other. There would be no fear of one from another.

But for reasons which are obvious to students of natural history and evolution, this is not possible. The cow will certainly wish that the tiger should not pounce on it. Why should they not be friends? But the tiger is unable to think in that manner, for reasons which are not entirely in its hands. A condition will not prevail in the world where there will be a uniform way of thinking in all living beings; therefore, it is the opinion of certain thinkers that war cannot be avoided as long as the world exists in the way it exists. Then, if that is the case, a most unjustifiable thing has to be accommodated with every circumstance in one's life. If there is at least one person in the world who cannot believe that war is not justifiable, it becomes an unavoidable circumstance. It may not become a justifiable thing; it becomes an unavoidable thing. If it is unavoidable, what should be our duty under that condition? What should the cow do when the tiger says, “I will not listen to you”? This is a great question: Shall I offer myself? Shall I pursue the principle of war and battle being unjustifiable? Even my spirit of retaliation may be unjustifiable, because to retaliate is to engage oneself in war, so I have already accepted that it is unjustifiable. So if I am to pursue a principle of the unjustifiability of war, I should not retaliate if there is aggression upon me.

These are questions which are not easily answered. There are some people who pursue a very extreme view of the philosophy of ahimsa. I read a passage of Bertrand Russell, who wrote something on it. He was a philosopher of every kind of thought. You will find him thinking different systems of thought at different levels of his life. In one place he says it has to be accepted that non-aggression is the law of life. Then what would be the consequence? He gives an illustration of a country being invaded by another country if the country is to pursue the principle of nonaggression to the hilt. Mahatma Gandhi did not believe in that kind of extreme ahimsa, though he is said to be one of the protagonists of it. Many questions were put to him. I myself was one who put a question to one of his great leaders, his right hand. He was not saying that aggression can be tolerated. Then I said, “Then, what is your principle? You have diluted your principle of nonaggression by saying that it cannot be tolerated.” He was giving some sort of explanation which is difficult to understand.

However, one of the extreme types of policy of nonaggression is: Truth must triumph always, and the triumph of truth need not necessarily mean its material triumph. This is a very hard thing for a materially bound mind to accept. It implies the acceptance of the justice of God and the retribution which God will mete out to a man who does the right thing – if not in this world, in another world. Even death is considered by these people as an acceptable thing, provided it is met by a person in the pursuit of truth. There are others who say: You are not supposed to die. Life is sacred. Suicide and a deliberately entering into the field of dying, where dying has become a certainty, may not be considered as wisdom. In all circumstances you should protect your life, because the last value in existence is existence itself. You have to exist first for any other value to be meaningful. If the final value, which is existence, is itself to be threatened, then every other value falls. So under every circumstance, life has to be protected, and you cannot sacrifice it under any circumstance.

In the Mahabharata itself there is one section called Appadharma. Appadharma means 'your attitude under critical moments'. 'Critical moments' means 'threats to life'. When life itself is at stake, what will you do? There, the usual norms of behaviour get transformed. The rigidity of social mandate gets relaxed, and you are permitted to behave in certain ways, which permission will not be granted under normal conditions.

There is a little story in the Chhandogya Upanishad. There was a poor, learned Brahman, almost starving to the point of dying. He was going to attend a sacrifice, or a yajna, that was being performed by the king or the ruler of that country, expecting to receive some presents in that great performance. Utter poverty is the only word that can explain his condition. On the way he met an elephant driver, a person who was considered a low-caste man, from whose hands nothing can be accepted by a high-caste Brahmin. That elephant driver was eating some beans, and he had eaten half. Firstly, one cannot eat from that man's hand. Secondly, half-eaten stuff is the worst thing. It cannot even be touched.

The Brahmin said, “Will you give me a little of these beans? I am dying of hunger.”

“Oh great Brahmin, I am an elephant driver. How would I give it to you?”

“I do not want to hear anything. Please give. I am dying of hunger.”

The elephant driver gave the beans to the Brahmin, who ate them.

Afterwards, the elephant driver said, “Take some water also, to drink.”

“No, you are a low-caste man. I cannot take the water.”

The elephant driver said, “How was it that I was not a low-caste man when I give you the beans, but now suddenly I have become that when I offered you water?”

The Brahmin replied, “I would have died had I not eaten the beans, but I need not take water from you because I can get it anywhere else. Where it was absolutely essential, even a transgression of an accepted principle is permitted because it was a question of dying, and life is sacred. Nothing can be more valuable than life, nothing more sacred. But why should I take water from you? There is plenty of water anywhere. So I should not take advantage of this laxity of principle always, where it is not necessary to take advantage of that; but where it is unavoidable, I can take advantage.”

Don't you believe that a little dose of liquor, wine or brandy may be administered to a person who is unconscious? A man has fallen from a tree and is unconscious. Just to revive his senses, they give a little brandy, wine, whiskey, whatever it is. But would you give it always to a person? So a most objectionable thing sometimes becomes a very necessary thing, and its objectionable character is abolished because of the absolute necessity for it. These are certain quandaries when trying to understand what one should do when there is aggression on oneself.

I had a little talk with Swami Chidanandaji Maharaj on the anniversary of the birth of Mahatma Gandhi. We had a little celebration here. I had a peculiar brainwave. It was between us only. That question which I raised before him is still unanswered. He is trying to answer it, and I am also trying to answer it. Anyhow, we have tried to reconcile ourselves somehow or other, and come to a conclusion in some way. I wrote on a small piece of paper and handed it over to him, because it was the occasion of the birth of a great man who was an uncompromising protagonist of ahimsa: Under any circumstance one cannot kill. I asked in this little note I passed to Swami Chidananda, “Do you believe that ahimsa is uncompromising?”

“Yes,” he said. “It is uncompromising.”

“What would you like a country to do when it is threatened with invasion?” He thought for a few minutes. He cannot say, “Let them invade.” It is a very difficult thing to say that. Nor can he say, “We will attack them.” If he says that, then the principle fails.

Then he gave me a single-sentence answer, “Mahatma Gandhi did not say that an aggressor should be tolerated.”

I said, “Then where comes ahimsa? What is meant by ahimsa? I can go and attack anybody because I don't like him. Then I am justified.”

Then he said, “This principle, which is highlighted in the sutra of Patanjali also, says that ahimsa should have no compromises.” It is mentioned in the sutra of Patanjali that it should not be limited by place, time and circumstance. It should not be that in some place one can attack, under certain conditions one can attack, and at certain times one can attack. Under every condition it is not permitted. Swami Chidanandaji Maharaj told me, “This is a rule for those who are striving for moksha, and not for others.”

I said, “Do you want others to go to hell, that others should not go to moksha – that the warriors who protect the person who wants to go to moksha should go to hell?”

Ah, this has become a difficult question again, because why should the warriors go to hell? They also should go to moksha. And why should I go to moksha and you go to hell? You protect me. I want you to fight for my sake so that I may go to moksha? What a justifiable argument! It is still in the boiling pot. The question has not been answered. Who is to go to hell, and who is to go to heaven?

These questions were put by Arjuna in a different way. “It is not at all justifiable,” he said. “It is not possible to fight because firstly, there was a little question of the success or failure of it, but secondly there is a more crucial question: It is a heinous crime to kill. Nothing can be worse than that. We will all land in perdition. Then, there is a third argument: What would be the consequence of a total destruction of mankind in battle? Anyone who has read history will know what would be the consequence: wretchedness to the core. All ethics and morality go to dogs. There is no question of ethics and morality where life and death are the question, and you will drive people to that condition by depriving them of every security. All the men die and all the wives are without husbands, with no support for them. What will happen? Promiscuous mixing, confusion, chaos, worse than anything that is conceivable will be the consequences of destruction in war, even if we win. Take for granted we are going to win and they will die; let it be, but how many will die? All will go, and then there will be social chaos. Shall we be responsible for it? Do you agree that this is good? Secondly, it is bad to kill. Thirdly, will I really win? Therefore, it is not at all proper to go further in this project. I shall not do anything.”

Now, this is a human question which was humanly answered because we are always faced with some counter-correlative of a position whenever an issue is raised. Every issue has a counter issue. You cannot have an absolute issue in this world, and you do not know how to correlate these two sides of an issue where two sides are always there for every issue. When there are two sides of an issue, which side are you going to take? And how do you know which is the right side? The question of the Bhagavadgita is: How do you know what is right?

I will close by quoting an interesting suggestion made by an ethical philosopher who wrote a small book called Situation Ethics. His says that an action can be considered to be right if four conditions are fulfilled. An action cannot be considered to be right if any one of the conditions is not fulfilled. If four conditions are fulfilled, the action is right. All the four should be fulfilled, not only three. Even if one is not fulfilled, it becomes a wrong action. It was an interesting suggestion that has been made. Firstly, the objective before you should be a justifiable one. What is it that you are aiming at? This aim that is before you should be a justifiable aim. Number two, the intention in your mind behind pursuing this objective should also be justifiable. Thirdly, the means that you adopt to fulfil your intention should also be justifiable. Fourthly, the consequences that may follow from the steps that you take should be justifiable. Then your action is right. If one is missing, it is not correct.

Though these are not the words uttered by Arjuna, and this is not the way in which Sri Krishna answered the question, some such intriguing situation Arjuna brought up in that critical hour, and many of us may sometimes find ourselves in such conditions. “I do not know whether this is proper or that is proper.”

Little questions arise in offices in the case of some employee. He is between two persons, a boss above and a subordinate below, and he is sometimes expected to do something which will have a terrible impact upon him. If he does a thing, he will be in the pit. If he does not do it, he will be in another pit. So which pit is good? He is in a terrible quandary. “If I want to continue in my office, I have to do a wrong thing. If I do not agree to do that wrong thing, I lose my job. Which is better?” A very big officer drawing a good salary put this question to me. He was in this condition. “I lose my job if I pursue the path of truth, and if I don't pursue it, I continue in the office. What is your answer?” he asked me. What answer can I give? Think over what answer you can give. “Lose your job,” you can say. “Do what you like; hang yourself.” But how can you say, “Don't be truthful?”

Now, to suffer incalculable pains even for the cause of truth, you have to believe in a destiny and a law which is not of this world; otherwise, nobody will dare to pursue truth to such an extent that it may even threaten one's own life. So the acceptance of the path of truth to the point of logical perfection may sometimes compel you to accept that the world is not the only reality. There is a reality higher than the world; otherwise, you become a compromising individual. So here is a great question, into which we shall try to probe further.