Gandhi's TED Talk | João Signorelli | TEDxSaoPaulo

João Signorelli conveys the message of Mahatma Gandhi with part of the play "Gandhi, um Líder Servidor," by Miguel Filiasse. He wants to spread the culture of peace through true ethics in business and education.

João Signorelli has a degree in journalism and has been a professional actor for more than 35 years, passing through all the television channels in Brazil. He has participated in more than 30 plays and 15 films. João Signorelli is a host, interviewer, and voiceover artist.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

My name is Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi

and I'm known all over the world
as Mahatma Gandhi.

One afternoon, I was at home
weaving my own clothes,

when a young mother and her eight-year-old
son came and asked me,

"Papu ..."

"Papu" was a loving name
that Indians called me,

like "Papa" or "Daddy."

She said,

"Papu, please ask my son
to quit eating sugar.

This boy eats so much sugar,

and if you ask it, I'm sure he'll obey."

So, I said to them,
"Kindly, come back in a month."

The next month,
they came back to my house,

and I talked with the boy.

When I talk with a child,
I like to lower myself

to be on the same
sight level as the child.

I told him,

"Oh, my son, I think you
really should stop eating white sugar.

This kind of sugar
is so bad for our bodies."

At this, the mother turned to me and said,

"Papu, I didn't really understand.

Why did you wait for a month?

Why didn't you say this a month ago?"

I told her,

"It's because, until a month ago,
I also ate sugar."

In 1920, I took a vow
to only wear handmade clothes,

and I called on the population
of India to do the same.

At that time, cotton was exported
from India to England

for a very low price,

and was returned to our country
as finished woven products

that were sold at very high prices.

Our own Indian consumers
had difficulty acquiring these products,

and Indian workers -
artisans, spinners and weavers -

began to lose their jobs.

I led this campaign,
and it had a very positive result.

But then, there started
to be a problem in England

because the English textile workers
began making known their concerns known.

So, in a visit I made to Great Britain,

I had the opportunity to ask for a meeting
with the textile workers

from a county called Lancashire.

I explained our situation and asked them,

"You're saying that you want to prosper
by taking crumbs of bread from the mouths

of Indian workers and their children?"

To my grateful surprise and happiness,

they completely understood our problem

and ended their claims.

This was one of the happiest
days of my life.

On that same trip,
when we arrived in London,

two very curious things happened to me.

The first happened one afternoon
when we were walking

on a big avenue in downtown London,
and I came across something

that I had never seen in my life,

and that, for the English,
in a certain way, was also a novelty:

a shopping center.

I stopped in front of a window,
and when a member of the delegation

realized that I had lagged behind,
he turned to me and asked,

"Mister Gandhi, would you like
to buy something?"

I said,

"No, I'm only looking
at all the things I don't need."

That same night, we were invited
for a reception at Buckingham Palace,

and the instructions I received
were that I could not see King George V

dressed the way I normally do.

I would have to wear a tuxedo.

I tried to argue, but they wouldn't budge.

So, what did I do?

I found a tuxedo, wrapped it up,
and sent the package to the palace,

since they were more worried
about my clothes than about me.

Almost all of us
make the same big mistake:

we think that there's an ethical way

to conduct ourselves in public,
and another ethical way to act in private.

We are used to accepting
certain lower moral standards

so that things will function well
in the business and political world.

It seems that this double standard
of conduct is convenient.

It's stimulated by the idea
that winning at whatever cost

and getting results
are the only things that matter.

This double standard of conduct
is present in all of society.

I ask your permission
to cite two segments of our society

where this is a little more clear:

First, politicians.

Politicians ask us to evaluate them
based on their political accomplishments

and never by their personal conduct.

Second, businesswomen and businessmen,
who also don't want to be judged

by their personal conduct

but rather, by their pragmatic
and financial results.

These women and men forget:

in addition to being business managers,

they're also people managers -

they're leaders.

When the double standard
comes from leadership,

a nation or organization
is permeated by it.

People who want quick success
quickly learn the rules of the game,

and many of them abandon their values
to experience success.

We must be the change
that we want to see in the world.

One time, they asked me why,
when people are fighting, they scream.

I started to think, and I came
to a small conclusion.

When people fight,
their hearts start moving apart,

and for one heart to hear another heart,

it needs to scream.

But, if people live harmoniously,

lovingly,

their hearts are so close

that even a whisper can be heard
from one heart to another.

My faith gives me a glimpse
of humanity living in peace.

But, for this to happen,
each person needs to achieve inner peace

because there can be no external peace
in the world without inner peace.

There is no path to peace;
peace is the path.

It takes peace to smile,

and it takes peace to dream.

Peace without a voice
isn't peace, it's fear.

I lived 78 years.

Before turning 75,
I was imprisoned many times,

adding up to, more or less, seven years.

I was arrested for my non-violent
resistance to unjust laws,

like, for example, the "salt law."

The English decreed a law

saying that only they
could produce and market salt.

For us, salt was essential
to preserve our food.

The English charged themselves one price
and, for Indians, they added a tax.

And this tax, at the time,

was one of the world's most extravagant,

and it had a terrible impact
on the poorest Indians.

You can't imagine the price
to buy a kilogram of salt.

I led a 386-kilometer march to the ocean,

and was followed by many people.

That morning, the 6th of April, 1930,

we arrived at the sea's edge
in a village called Dandi.

When the sun rose from the horizon,

there were 12 million people
participating in this march.

I got down and picked up a lump
of mud that contained a little salt.

and in the caring way that all things -

a lump of mud, the seas,
the rivers, the forests,

the animals, and the human beings -

deserve to be treated, I said,

"We need this salt like we need
the air and the water.

This salt comes from the Indian Ocean,
so it belongs to India,

and from now on,

any Indian can and should
produce and market salt."

This was one of the first acts
of civil disobedience.

The next morning, in the ashram,
I received a visit from a history teacher,

who asked me if I sincerely believed

that it was only through non-violence
or civil disobedience

that I would be able to liberate
India from England.

I answered him,

"Sir, you're a history teacher.

You tell the history;

I make the history."

My oldest son lived 40 kilometers
from the closest city,

and, on the day he was
to take his car for repair,

he invited my grandson along.

Arriving there, he told my grandson,

"Kindly drop me off
at our lawyer's office,

take the car to the repair shop,
and come to get me at 4:00 p.m."

My grandson left the car at the shop,
and, as he had time, went to the movies.

He liked the film so much
that he saw it two times in a row.

When he went to pick up my son,
it was already 5:00 p.m.

After he arrived, he explained,

"Father, I was delayed; the shop owner
only just now delivered the car to me."

Then, my son said,

"I already called the repair shop,
and the car's been ready since 2:00 p.m.

My son, we're going to do the following:
you're going to drive the car home,

and I'm going to walk
these 40 kilometers home,

so that I can reflect on my walk

where it was I went wrong
in your education."

In 1944, my wife and I were prisoners.

At times, my wife was free,
and I was in prison.

One particular time,
when she was free and I was imprisoned,

I received a letter from her
that I am going to read to you:

"I thank you for having had
the privilege of being your collaborator

and companion in life.

I thank you for the most
perfect marriage in this world,

based on "brahmacharya," self-control.

I thank you for having considered me
your equal in labor for all your life

on the behalf of India.

I thank you for not being one
of those husbands who spend their time

on gambling, horse races,

women, and drinking,

and are tired of their wives and children,

in the way that a young man
soon tires of his childhood toys.

What gratitude I feel
that you aren't one of those husbands

who pass their time enriching themselves
from the exploitation of others.

And how thankful I am

that you put God
and our homeland above bribery

and have had the courage
of your convictions,

and your complete
and implicit faith in God.

I thank you for tolerating me
and my youthful shortcomings

when I grumbled about the change
you brought to our lifestyle -

from much to little,

Kasturba."

That late afternoon,

when I finished reading this letter,
there deep in my cell,

I started to reflect.

To call women the fragile sex
is an injustice and a slander

from us, men, towards women.

Because love cures, love unites,

love nourishes, love pulsates,

love educates, love encourages,

love moves, love brings birth,

love thrills, love relieves,

love motivates, love mobilizes,

and love makes life possible.

I want to invite you, my female friend,
to be an example for future generations.

I want to invite you, my male friend,
to leave your written mark

and your signature
engraved in human hearts,

to the point of being remembered,

many generations from now,

as a sower of prosperity and inner peace.

I now take my leave from you,
but I leave with a happy heart, in peace,

because I believe in your intentions.

And I hope that each of your words
and each of your gestures

can continue touching
the soul of everyone -

curing, uniting,

nourishing, educating,

encouraging, relieving, motivating,

mobilizing, and making life possible.

Namaste.

(Applause)

Thank you.