International News

A Broken Peace: Gandhi’s Statue Defaced in London Just Before His Birthday

Written by: Hiramoni Sarma | The Author lives in London and is a regular Columnist

Sentinel Digital Desk

Just before Gandhi Jayanti on 2 October, Londoners woke to a grim sight in Tavistock Square. The calm, meditative, cross-legged statue of Mahatma Gandhi, normally surrounded by flowers and tributes, and one I had passed many mornings on my way to work - had been splashed with black spray paint. Someone had scrawled “Terrorists” alongside the phrases “Gandhi, Modi and Hindustani.”

The Indian High Commission in London swiftly condemned the attack, calling it “a shameful act, not just vandalism but a violent attack on the very idea of non-violence, two days before the International Day of Non-Violence, and on the legacy of the Mahatma.” Officials said they had raised the issue strongly with local authorities, and their staff were already on site helping to organise the clean-up before the 2 October ceremony. The Metropolitan Police confirmed they are investigating the damage at Tavistock Square and are treating it as racially aggravated. Camden Council, which looks after the gardens, sent cleaning teams immediately. Work is under way to restore the statue in time for Gandhi Jayanti.

While speaking to local residents, Angela Dore said: “To see it defaced like this is heartbreaking. But I think people will turn up in even greater numbers this year to show that hate doesn’t win.”

The attack, so close to Gandhi’s birthday, is hard to see as anything but deliberate. Only weeks ago, the capital saw one of its biggest anti-immigration rallies in decades, with around 150,000 people marching through the streets, some clashing with police. In that climate, an attack like this feels far from random.

The High Commission’s condemnation has been echoed by many in the diaspora and by Britons alike, who see it as an insult to shared values, not just Indian heritage. There are already calls for tighter protection: temporary barriers on sensitive dates, smarter CCTV, and better patrols. But a few campaigners warn against turning the square into a fortress. “Tavistock Square is a peace garden and deserves the same respect and care as any war memorial,” one campaigner said.

Every year Tavistock Square in London hosts a quiet ceremony: people bring flowers, community leaders speak, and soft bhajans float in the air. It is part of Gandhi Jayanti, when Indians and many around the world remember him, and it also marks the United Nations’ International Day of Non-Violence. Normally the atmosphere is light, hopeful and respectful. But this year, there is an edge of hurt.

Why Gandhi’s statue in Tavistock Square? The statue, created by Polish-born sculptor Fredda Brilliant, was unveiled in 1968, just a short walk from University College London (UCL), where a young Gandhi studied law in the late 1800s before qualifying at the Inner Temple. Tavistock Square is a peace garden, surrounded by memorials to conscientious objectors and to the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In that setting, Gandhi’s calm, cross-legged figure feels like London’s quiet corner of peace and conscience.

Economist and UCL alumna Ishita Dey said: “He came to UCL as a student, he left as a man who would change history. That journey is part of our shared story.”

What is needed now is the restoration of the statue, a task that is both practical and symbolic. Conservators will need to carefully lift the paint from the Portland stone and check the bronze for damage. But the real act of restoration will come on 2 October, when crowds return as they do every year to sing, lay flowers, and read Gandhi’s words in the open air.

As King’s College student Divyansh Sethi put it: “Ironically, the attack has drawn more attention to Gandhi. People who may never have visited this statue are now planning to come on his birthday. Maybe that’s the best answer to vandalism, more people standing together in peace.”

This is not the first time Gandhi’s statue has been attacked. But this year, it raises a pressing question: how do open societies protect symbols of peace without losing the openness that gives them meaning?