Is war, and its consequences, ever justifiable?

Sans the Sacred

You might have heard the phrase ahimsa paramo dharmah or ‘non-violence is the greatest dharma’, oft quoted from the Mahabharata. With war on everyone’s minds because of the horrific scenes in Ukraine, why not explore what ancient Sanskrit texts say about wars and violence?

Kautilya’s Arthashastra pragmatically tells us of three kinds of kings who try to conquer—the dharmavijayi, who simply wants the other side to submit to him. Such a person is happy if the opponent surrenders, and the Arthashastra advises one to surrender to such a king, especially for protection from other enemies.

The second kind is the lobhavijayi, who conquers out of greed for land and wealth. The Arthashastra advises one to appease such a king with money.

The final kind of conqueror is the asuravijayi, who wants to take away not just land and wealth, but the family and life of the one he attacks. In such cases, the Arthashastra advises giving away one’s land and wealth, and protecting oneself and one’s family, and taking steps to prevent harm.

While Krishna advises Arjuna in the Gita to do his duty and fight the war against his relatives, the Kurukshetra war in the Mahabharata is a good illustration of the rules set forth for a ‘dharmic war’.

Bhishma explains to Yudhishtira while giving him advice on being a good king that wars must follow some rules: Only cavalry must attack cavalry, chariots must attack chariots, and so on. Neither side should use poison-tipped arrows, and those who are wounded or those who surrender must not be fought. If someone is injured, they must either be given medical care or sent to their own realm for care.

If there must be war, these sound like good rules; unfortunately, the Kurukshetra war is the great exception to them all! Both sides attack charioteers, multiple people fight against a single person, and continue fighting after the other is injured.

But Sanskrit writers were not oblivious to the ugly sights of war. While Sanskrit plays typically don’t show disturbing death scenes, following the dictum of the Natya Shastra, the Mahabharata’s gruesome description of the battlefield, replete with vultures that have descended on the bodies after the Kurukshetra war, leaves little to the imagination.

The entire section is called the Stri Parva and tells us of the laments of the women who lost their dear ones in the war. The scene is all the more powerful, narrated as it is by Gandhari, the queen of Dhritarashtra, who has removed her blindfold for the first time — to see her sons, relatives, and friends lying dead on the battlefield. The sight is so heart wrenching that Yudhishtira never quite overcomes his guilt, despite being advised to perform sacrifices as repentance. And Gandhari is so stricken that she curses Krishna, God himself, that his entire clan would perish, because he allowed the war to take place. A sombre note to end on, but perhaps a timely reminder as so many of us try to justify war.