If pugnacity were not checked, it would lead to brawls at every corner, to domination of every neighborhood by its heaviest thug, to the division of every city by rival gangs.

After Gandhi's assassination (in 1948) his movement against industrialization was rapidly eroded by the natural acquisitiveness and competitive spirit of men. Town factories lured village youth, and agriculture itself became an industry, wedded to chemistry and costly machines. Even so, population grew faster than the food supply; ancient customs and taboos defeated modern ways and views; and the people canceled their prosperity with their fertility.

The vision that drew Gandhi was of a people content with the simplicity of ancient ways. Like most visions this was not realistic. Whence would iron come to the village smithy except through the industry of workers half-buried in the dungeons of the earth? Whence would come the weapons, the organization, and the martial spirit needed to defend the village against attack? The kindest souls and most peaceful settlements would be at the mercy of the ruthless and the strong. Darwin would again challenge Christ.

I was shocked to find, on the wall of a Buddhist monastery in Kandy, a spacious painting showing the gentle founder of Buddhism distributing ferocious punishments in hell. When I protested against this barbarization of the idealist who had preached, "Let no man kill any living thing," a monk explained that unless a religion preached terror as well as virtue and bliss, it could not control the lawless individualism of mankind. In China, Japan, and Southeast Asia a theologically reconstructed Buddhism is flourishing, and the godless Buddha has become a god.

Buddha taught through moral parables, or a pithy pentalog like his "Five Moral Rules": Let no one kill any living being; Let no one take what is not given to him; Let no one speak falsely; Let no one drink intoxicating drinks; Let no one be unchaste— which apparently forbade all sexual actions or desires.