Self Rule
India cannot be free so long as
India voluntarily encourages or tolerates the economic drain which has been
going on for the past century and a half. Boycott of foreign goods means no
more and no less than boycott of foreign cloth. Foreign cloth constitutes the
largest drain voluntarily permitted by us. It means sixty crores of rupees
annually paid by us for piece-goods. If India could make a successful effort to
stop that drain, she can gain Swaraj by that one act.
India was enslaved for satisfying
the greed of the foreign cloth manufacturer. When the East India Company came
in, we were able to manufacture all the cloth we needed, and more for export.
By processes that need not be described here, India has become practically
wholly dependent upon foreign manufacture for her clothing.
But we ought not to be dependent. India has the ability to manufacture all her cloth if her children will work for it. Fortunately India has yet enough weavers to supplement the out-turn of her mills. The mills do not and cannot immediately manufacture all the cloth we want. The reader may not know that, even at the present moment, the weavers weave more cloth than the mills. But the latter weave five crore yards of fine foreign counts, equal to forty crore yards of coarser counts. The way to carry out a successful boycott of foreign cloth is to increase the out-put of yarn. And this can only be done by hand-spinning.
To bring about such a boycott, it
is necessary for our merchants to stop all foreign importation, and to sell
out, even at a loss, all foreign cloth already stocked in India, preferably to
foreign buyers. They must cease to speculate in cotton, and keep all the cotton
required for home use. They must stop purchasing all foreign cotton. The
mill-owners should work their mills not for their profits but as a national
trust and therefore cease to spin finer counts, and weave only for the home
market. The householder has to revise his or her ideas of fashion and, at least
for the time being, suspend the use of fine garments which are not always worn
to cover the body. He should train himself to see art and beauty in the
spotlessly white khaddar and to appreciate its soft unevenness. The householder
must learn to use cloth as a miser uses his hoard. And even when the
householders have revised their tastes about dress, somebody will have to spin yarn
for the weavers. This can only be done by every one spinning during spare hours
either for love or money.
We are engaged in a spiritual
war. We are not living in normal times. Normal activities are always suspended
in abnormal times. And if we are out to gain Swaraj in a year's time, it means
that we must concentrate upon our goal to the exclusion of every thing else. I
therefore venture to suggest to the students all over India to suspend their
normal studies for one year and devote their time to the manufacture of yarn by
hand-spinning. It will be their greatest act of service to the motherland, and
their most natural contribution to the attainment of Swaraj. During the late
war our rulers attempted to turn every factory into an arsenal for turning out
bullets of lead. During this war of ours, I suggest every national school and
college being turned into a factory for preparing cones of yarns for the
nation. The students will lose nothing by the occupation: they will gain a
kingdom here and hereafter. There is a famine of cloth in India. To assist in
removing this dearth is surely an act of merit. If it is sinful to use foreign
yarn, it is a virtue to manufacture more Swadeshi yarn in order to enable us to
cope with the want that would be created by the disuse of foreign yarn.
The obvious question asked would
be, if it is so necessary to manufacture yarn, why not pay every poor person to
do so? The answer is that hand spinning is not, and never was, a calling like
weaving, carpentry, etc. Under the pre-British economy of India, spinning was
an honourable and leisurely occupation for the women of India. It is difficult
to revive the art among the women in the time at our disposal. But it is
incredibly simple and easy for the school-goers to respond to the nation's
call. Let no one decry the work as being derogatory to the dignity of man or
students. It was an art confined to the women of India because the latter had
more leisure. And being graceful, musical, and as it did not involve any great
exertion, it had become the monopoly of women. But it is certainly as graceful
for either sex as is music for instance. In hand-spinning is hidden the
protection of women's virtue, the insurance against famine, and the cheapening
of prices. In it is hidden the secret of Swaraj. The revival of hand spinning
is the least penance we must do for the sin of our forefathers in having
succumbed to the satanic influences of the foreign manufacturer.
The school-goers will restore
hand-spinning to its respectable status. They will hasten the process of making
Khaddar fashionable. For no mother, or father, worth the name will refuse to
wear cloth made out of yarn spun by their children. And the scholars' practical
recognition of art will compel the attention of the weavers of India. If we are
to wean the Punjabi from the calling not of a soldier but of the murderer of
innocent and free people of other lands, we must give back to him the
occupation of weaving. The race of the peaceful Julahis of the Punjab is all
but extinct. It is for the scholars of the Punjab to make it possible for the
Punjabi weaver to return to his innocent calling.
I hope to show in a future issue
how easy it is to introduce this change in the schools and how quickly, on
these terms, we can nationalise our schools and colleges. Everywhere the
students have asked me what new things I would introduce into our nationalised
schools. I have invariably told them I would certainly introduce spinning. I
feel, so much more clearly than ever before that during the transition period,
we must devote exclusive attention to spinning and certain other things of
immediate national use, so as to make up for past neglect. And the students
will be better able and equipped to enter upon the new course of studies.
Do I want to put back the hand of
the clock of progress? Do I want to replace the mills by hand-spinning and
hand-weaving? Do I want to replace the railway by the country cart? Do I want
to destroy machinery altogether? These questions have been asked by some
journalists and public men. My answer is: I would not weep over the
disappearance of machinery or consider it a calamity. But I have no design upon
machinery as such. What I want to do at the present moment is to supplement the
production of yarn and cloth through our mills, save the millions we send out
of India, and distribute them in our cottages. This I cannot do unless and
until the nation is prepared to devote its leisure hours to hand-spinning. To
that end we must adopt the methods I have ventured to suggest for popularising
spinning as a duty rather than as a means of livelihood.