We all know the difference between criticism and critiquing. The former merely dismisses another’s view when we cannot agree, often with a tone of superiority or condemnation. The latter, however, respects the other’s perspective, even while ‘agreeing to disagree’. Mahatma Gandhi epitomized this spirit throughout his life, and his disagreement with Rabindranath Tagore—another towering figure of Indian thought—offers us a timeless example of how to critique without condemning.
One of their major disagreements was over Gandhi’s near-devotional commitment to the charkha (spinning wheel) and khadi. Several scholarly studies have examined this in detail, including reflections by Amartya Sen, who initially sided with Tagore’s critique but later revisited Gandhi’s position with greater sympathy (see:
[see: https://dayanandbharati.in/mahatmaji-the-exegete/
]
What stands out in Gandhi’s reply, however, is not only what he said about the charkha, but what he said about Raja Ram Mohan Roy in response to a misrepresentation of his earlier remarks. His clarification in Young India (5 November 1925) teaches us more than just his views—it teaches us the ethics of critique.
Here is the context: Tagore had been told, through hearsay, that Gandhi referred to Ram Mohan Roy as a “pigmy.” Gandhi responds with humility and precision:
“One thing, and one thing only, has hurt me, the Poet’s belief, again picked up from table talk, that I look upon Ram Mohan Roy as a ‘pigmy’. Well, I have never anywhere described that great reformer as a pigmy much less regarded him as such. He is to me as much a giant as he is to the Poet… I remember having said that he was a pigmy compared to the unknown authors, say, of the Upanishads. This is altogether different from looking upon Ram Mohan Roy as a pigmy.” (Young India, 5-11-1925, p. 431)
This episode teaches us three vital lessons about how critique ought to be practiced:
First, intent matters, but clarity matters even more. Gandhi did not intend to insult Roy, yet he takes the opportunity to clarify—not out of defensiveness, but to uphold intellectual honesty. His explanation is not evasive; it is responsible and generous. He even compares this rhetorical device to saying Tennyson was a pigmy before Shakespeare—not to diminish Tennyson, but to exalt Shakespeare.
Second, affirmation can coexist with disagreement. Gandhi uses the moment not just to defend himself, but to reaffirm his admiration for both Roy and Tagore:
“If I adore the Poet, as he knows I do in spite of differences between us, I am not likely to disparage the greatness of the man who made the great reform movement of Bengal possible and of which the Poet is one of the finest of fruits.” (Young India, p. 431)
Third, critiquing is not condemning. Gandhi shows how one can challenge an idea—however revered—without attacking the person. Disagreement, for him, is a mark of friendship, not enmity:
“Why should mere disagreement with my views displease? If every disagreement were to displease, since no two men agree exactly on all points, life would be a bundle of unpleasant sensations and, therefore, a perfect nuisance.” (Young India, p. 426)
Instead of shutting down dialogue, Gandhi reminds us that respectful disagreement actually enriches friendship:
“Friends to be friends are not called upon to agree even on most points. Only, disagreements must have no sharpness, much less bitterness, about them.” (Young India, p. 426)
What began as a point of tension becomes, in Gandhi’s hands, a moment of restoration. He does not turn the accusation back on Tagore. He doesn’t reduce the debate to personalities. Rather, he lifts the conversation to a higher plane—of values, clarity, and mutual respect.
In a time like ours, where public discourse often promotes criticism without understanding, and disagreement quickly turns into outrage, Gandhi’s response offers a powerful counterexample. He shows us how to critique with integrity, how to defend with grace, and how to disagree without dishonour.
For those interested, Gandhi’s full response to Tagore’s charkha critique is included in the appendix below.
Ashram, May 17, 2025
Appendix
231. THE POET AND THE CHARKHA
When Sir Rabindranath’s criticism of the charkha was published some time ago, 1 several friends asked me to reply to it. Being heavily engaged, I was unable then to study it in full. But I had read enough of it to know its trend. I was in no hurry to reply. Those who had read it were too much agitated or influenced to be able to appreciate what I might have then written even if I had the time. Now, therefore, is really the time for me to write on it and to ensure a dispassionate view being taken of the Poet’s criticism or my reply, if such it may be called.
The criticism is a sharp rebuke to Acharya Ray @ for his impatience of the Poet’s and Acharya Seal’s position regarding the charkha, and gentle rebuke to me for my exclusive and excessive (p.426) love of it. Let the public understand that the Poet does not deny its great economic value. Let them know that he signed the appeal for the All-India Deshbandhu Memorial after he had written his criticism. He signed the appeal after studying its contents carefully and, even as he signed it, he sent me the message that he had written something on the charkha which might not quite please me. I knew, therefore, what was coming. But it has not displeased me. Why should mere disagreement with my views displease? If every disagreement were to displease, since no two men agree exactly on all points, life would be a bundle of unpleasant sensations and, therefore, a perfect nuisance. On the contrary the frank criticism pleases me. For our friendship becomes all the richer for our disagreements. Friends to be friends are not called upon to agree even on most points. Only, disagreements must have no sharpness, much less bitterness, about them. And I gratefully admit that there is none about the Poet’s criticism.
…The Poet does not, he is not expected, he has no need, to read Young India. All he knows about the movement is what he has picked up from table talk. He has, therefore, denounced what he has imagined to be the excesses of the charkha cult.
The Poet thinks that the charkha is calculated to bring about a death-like sameness in the nation and, thus imagining, he would shun it if he could. The truth is that the charkha is intended to realize the essential and living oneness of interest among India’s myriads. Behind the magnificent and kaleidoscopic variety, one discovers in nature a unity of purpose, design and form which is equally unmistakable…..(p. 428)
…there is nothing in the Poet’s argument which I cannot endorse and still maintain my position regarding the charkha. The many things about the charkha which he has ridiculed I have never said. The merits I have claimed for the charkha remain undamaged by the Poet’s battery.
One thing, and one thing only, has hurt me, the Poet’s belief, again picked up from table talk, that I look upon Ram Mohan Roy as a ‘pigmy’. Well, I have never anywhere described that great reformer as a pigmy much less regarded him as such. He is to me as much a giant as he is to the Poet. I do not remember any occasion save one when I had to use Ram Mohan Roy’s name. That was in connection with Western education. This was on the Cuttack sands now four years ago. 1 What I do remember having said was that it was possible to attain highest culture without Western education. And when someone men-(p.430)tioned Ram Mohan Roy, I remember having said that he was a pigmy compared to the unknown authors, say, of the Upanishads. This is altogether different from looking upon Ram Mohan Roy as a pigmy. I do not think meanly of Tennyson if I say that he was a pigmy before Milton or Shakespeare. I claim that I enhance the greatness of both. If I adore the Poet, as he knows I do in spite of differences between us, I am not likely to disparage the greatness of the man who made the great reform movement of Bengal possible and of which the Poet is one of the finest of fruits.—p. 431
Young India, 5-11-1925, CWMG, Vol. pp. 426-431
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