Can an Ideal World Exist? Inside Auroville's Living Utopia with Katarzyna Boni

matrimandir-garden.jpg, full-width, Matrimandir garden, photo: courtesy of Auroville, Can an Ideal World Exist? Inside Auroville's Living Utopia with Katarzyna Boni

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In a world fractured by discord, Auroville emerges as a bold experiment – a place in southern India where people from across the globe have gathered to answer one question: Can we create a better world, an alternative to what we know?

In this interview with author Katarzyna Boni, based on her book Auroville: City of Dreams, we are drawn into the paradoxes of this utopian attempt, where ideals of human unity meet the complex realities of human nature. Boni, a native of post-communist Poland, brings a uniquely critical lens to Auroville, shaped by her memories of communism and the ideological disillusionment it fostered. For her, Auroville is both compelling and improbable, a community whose members seem at once visionary and naïve in their hopes of creating new systems beyond the limits of government and self-interest.

Boni reflects on the deeper truth of Auroville’s ‘utopia’, which isn’t a flawless society, but rather the courage to build something better – flawed as it may be. Once a desert wasteland, Auroville is now a verdant forest alive with trees, animals, and people working tirelessly to reimagine human coexistence. Here, ambition and failure intertwine, and while idealism clashes with personal freedoms, the community persists in its pursuit of shared purpose. Boni leaves us with a question for our own lives: It’s easy to criticize, but what have we done to change the world? For in this unique village structure – where every opinion matters, every action serves the whole – perhaps the real utopia lies in simply trying.

Agnes Dudek: In your own words, how would you define what Auroville is for those who don’t know about it?

Katarzyna Boni: On paper, it’s a place that was created in 1968, in India, in the deep south, in the state of Tamil Nadu. Almost every country in the world was involved in its founding, and it got support from UNESCO. Embassies sent their representatives to the opening ceremony. It was conceived of as a city that belongs to all of humanity, where values, principles and rules would be called upon to develop human unity. And indeed, at the very beginning, people from different corners of the world gathered there. They came from Australia, Japan, South Africa, the United States, Canada, France, Germany, Sweden and, of course, India itself. And they began building a city in the desert. Those are the facts, and that’s probably how the city is described on Wikipedia. Or on the Auroville websites. However, I understand that this question digs deeper as well. What is Auroville for me?

AD: Yes, for example: if we had to know one crucial thing about Auroville, what would it be?

KB: It’s a place where people explore whether it’s possible to create alternative, better-functioning systems. It’s a place that’s utopian in its assumptions, but what’s very interesting about it is that it’s existed for over 50 years. So, it’s the longest-lasting initiative of this kind in recent years. And it’s fascinating to examine it: what works about it that it hasn’t fallen apart like most utopian places in the world.

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Group meeting, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: And what works?

KB: I think what works is the openness to one’s own mistakes and the openness to finding solutions. This openness sometimes leads to total paralysis because decisions can’t be made about which way to go. Some say there should be a road here, some say – yes, but we can’t cut the tree. They have to reach a consensus. That case was easy: they made a road around the tree. But sometimes they don’t reach a consensus for many years. But the discussions continue. Every opinion is important. The people can be dogmatic, but there’s no dogmatism there. There’s no one, correct way. Auroville’s premise is that together we develop new solutions and test various alternatives. Because of that, you rarely hear the word ‘no’.

I need to make a side note here. I was there in 2017–18, when Auroville was turning 50. I wrote the book in 2019–20. India has changed a lot since then. From what I know, Auroville has also changed a lot, too. But I can’t go back – I’ve been banned from entering India.

AD: Was it because of the book?

KB: I’ve never heard or received an official explanation. I was simply turned back when I landed in Mumbai with a valid visa. I was told that I am on a blacklist and that I can’t enter. I sent messages to the embassy and other official bodies, but no one ever replied. Through unofficial channels, I learned that I was blacklisted for publishing an interview with Arundhati Roy in a Polish magazine. She is a very well-known writer and critic of Modi’s government. It seems someone was monitoring publications in Poland and blacklisting authors of articles critical of the Indian government. But no one informed me of that. I have no idea what my legal situation is right now, but I think as long as this government is in power, I’ll remain on the blacklist. Regarding Auroville’s current situation, I can only share what I’ve heard from friends: the pandemic and Modi’s government have both significantly changed Auroville.

AD: I remember from another interview and from the book that you rejected Auroville when you first went there. Can you briefly explain why?

KB: In 2009, I was travelling around India and looking for a place to volunteer – I didn’t just want to keep visiting monuments. That’s when I came across Auroville. I ended up at Sadhana Forest – a significant part of Auroville and a common entry point for many people. It’s a vibrant place where volunteering is easy and a lot happens. However, I felt uncomfortable there – both in the volunteering space and in Auroville as a whole. I felt lost, unable to find my way around physically, and that sense of disorientation extended to a psychological level. I couldn’t connect with the idealism surrounding me. I didn’t understand what they were doing or why, and I wasn’t interested in figuring out why people dedicate their lives to pursuing what seemed to me like an obscure goal. I dismissed it as naïve – and left.

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Auroville forest, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: But this changed completely? Now you wouldn’t reject it?

KB: The reaction I had during my first visit made me think. Why did I have such a strong opinion about people trying to change some part of the world? I didn’t believe you could fulfil dreams of creating some sort of global unity. I grew up under communism – I remember how it was. I remember the queues, the ration cards, the poverty that came with it. I also remember my parents’ stories and my grandparents’ stories – what they went through. So in 2009, when I saw people talking about communal goals, I was genuinely outraged – to be honest.

After a few years, I realised my reaction wasn’t really about them – it was about me. I wanted to explore why I couldn’t believe in the idea of creating a better world, why I didn’t allow myself to have hope. It became increasingly clear to me that the system we operate in is falling apart before our eyes – and it certainly isn’t the best possible system. So I decided to return to the place that is trying to do something different and – remembering my initial reluctance – write a book about it. I wanted to see if, amid the growing global crisis, there’s any chance of saving ourselves, whether it’s possible to create a different way of functioning – in terms of the economy, education, management, and co-living in a community. This time, I didn’t run away. I stayed – in total, I think I spent more than a year there, and I believe I understood the place much better.

AD: In a previous interview, you labelled Auroville as having ‘blind idealism’. Why did you choose those words?

KB: Well, those were my own assumptions about them, right? I felt as though they didn’t know history. About communism, but also about other utopian projects. For example, what Christiania in Denmark – which is one of the most famous utopian projects – looks like now with all its regulations. What happened there, what succeeded, what didn’t. Back in 2009, I met people who simply said, ‘This is the only place where I can be a better version of myself. This is the only place that has a chance to build a better world. If not here, then where?’ And I had this feeling that they were living in denial. And also in some sort of ignorance about the dangers. And it’s precarious not to know what the dangers are. It’s dangerous not to know what Stalinism in Russia looked like. But I just assumed that, without really trying to understand what’s happening around me.

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AD: It seems to me that your background in Poland, a post-communist country, really shaped both your view of Auroville and your experience of it, at least in the beginning. Do you think Polish communism influenced you?

KB: Yes, very much so. There are a lot of people from Western Europe in Auroville, but very few from Eastern Europe. I think there’s a kind of scepticism embedded in people from post-communist countries – we don’t trust the dream of humanity living happily and working together. We tend to be cynical: everything works as long as things are fine, but as soon as something starts to go wrong, it all falls apart. And that’s such a sad way of thinking because it assumes that humans are fundamentally self-centred and that it’s difficult to function in a community. Going back to why I wrote this book, I think it was largely because I wanted to prove to myself that it could be different – that it’s possible to create something despite our instincts.

AD: There were very few Polish people there, and even now, after checking the statistics, there are still not many. Why do so few Poles end up there?

KB: I don’t know. When I was there, there was only one woman officially living there, plus a few people who were just visiting. One guy was also writing a book about Auroville. It seems to me it might be because communism was a recent experience. It wasn’t something we remembered as a positive experiment. On the other hand, there was a larger group of Russians, who had similar experiences, but maybe they were missing the sense of community that they came there to find. But in Poland, few people have heard of it – unlike in the West. When I was in France, I was speaking with a friend’s friend who asked what I was working on. I said I was working on this city in India with utopian ideals. And they immediately said, ‘Auroville! Yes, we know it. We learned about it in high school’. It’s a concept that’s known in certain circles in France.

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Bonfire for Auroville's 50th Anniversary (2018), photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: I first heard about Auroville from a friend, in Brazil!

KB: Exactly. In Poland you need to know someone who went there. Or just stumble upon it during your travels.

AD: What is actually utopian about Auroville?

KB: The definition of utopia is that it’s a good place that doesn’t exist. So really, although people call Auroville utopian, it’s not utopian – it’s a social experiment. It’s a diverse place with many nuances – some aspects are stronger, others weaker. It exists firmly in shades of grey, not black and white. What’s utopian is the attempt to create a better world. I also read a lot about utopian thought, starting from projects such as Thomas More’s Utopia and Tommaso Campanella’s City of the Sun and also about more modern ideas. There’s a quote from Oscar Wilde that I really like:

A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which humanity is always landing. And when humanity lands there, it looks out, and seeing a better country, sets sail. Progress is the realisation of Utopias.

_{(Oscar Wilde, 'The Soul of Man Under Socialism')}

And I think that’s the best definition of utopia – that it’s something we need in our striving for development. And this progress could be understood as market-driven progress, but also as personal development, or advancement in education or in economic thought. In this widely understood notion of progress, we’re aiming for a world where life is better for everyone. I think most people would agree with that – to make life better for as many people as possible. Because otherwise, we stagnate. We remain in the misery we’re in. The only point is in striving for something better. However, as soon as we reach something better, we must immediately look around to see where we can still improve.

And in that sense, I think Auroville is quite utopian, because it’s constantly evolving; it hasn’t fossilised into any dogmatic form or religious structure. Moreover, Auroville has no religion – it’s one of its core principles that it is a place without religion. There is freedom of belief. It continues to adapt to changing circumstances. It has changed dramatically. The place, once a completely destroyed and degraded desert, where rain would rush into the sea in torrents, carrying so much sand that the entire bay would turn red with dust, is now a green oasis – a humid subtropical forest, full of animals and plants. It’s a very beautiful place, truly rebuilt by the hands of people who believed it was worth going there and creating something different. They dug ditches to trap the water, planted trees, and built the first huts made of mud.

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Nature around Auroville, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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Auroville now features a mix of houses, from architectural experiments with ecological methods to beautiful or unusual villas built by the French in the sixties, reflecting a shift from survival to comfort. Today, one can live in a beautiful villa in the forest and focus on writing a book rather than digging, planting, or building. Auroville now attracts a different kind of person than it did 50 years ago, and many of the original pioneers are questioning whether it’s still possible to uphold Auroville’s principles in this new lifestyle. This remains an ongoing discussion: how the community can stay true to its original vision.

AD: In your book, you said it was hard to talk about money in Auroville. Why was that?

Book cover of 'Auroville. Miasto z marzeń' (Auroville. City of Dreams), author: Katarzyna Boni, photo credit: publisher Agora

KB: The way money functions in Auroville is quite well described, and you can read about it in the book or on their website. However, people who come to Auroville bring varying resources, and initiating a conversation with them about what they brought wasn’t always straightforward. Many people are quite uncomfortable discussing how much they earn or explaining exactly how it all works. Everyone there carries their own ideas, perspectives, blind spots, prejudices, experiences, and shortcomings. I think the most insightful remark about money I heard came from Uma Prajapati, the founder of Upasana – a clothing company that seeks to revive traditional Indian crafts with modern design while striving for sustainability. Upasana has since become an international brand. She observed that there’s a profound dualism regarding money: on the one hand, we need it, but on the other, we feel ashamed of it. In Auroville, being wealthy is seen as shameful because money is often regarded as something inherently bad. Yet, as she pointed out, money is neutral – it’s entirely up to us how we use it. This thought has stayed with me and resurfaces from time to time.

AD: When examining Auroville’s evolution, what aspects do you believe have been most resilient against the changes of reality?

KB: I think we return to the question: why has Auroville survived for so long? I believe it’s because they remain open to new ideas. They have a clear sense of direction and well-defined plans. Their vision is to create a city where people from all walks of life, from every country and culture, can coexist. It’s a city designed for fifty thousand people, with human unity as its guiding principle. However, there’s no fixed path to achieving this goal – and no set timeline. Some Aurovillians even say it won’t happen within our lifetimes.

At present, Auroville is home to a few thousand residents, far from the fifty thousand originally envisioned. It’s not really a city – it’s more like a beautiful village set within a forest. Yet, the fact that it still exists and continues to attract new people is, in itself, a kind of success. These newcomers bring fresh perspectives and are bound to approach things differently from the pioneers. Because there’s no dogma dictating how Auroville’s vision should be realised, experimentation is encouraged. People are constantly trying new methods, making mistakes, starting again, and exploring what works. That’s why Auroville has endured for over fifty years – this openness to innovation has been a consistent thread from the beginning. It’s this adaptability, I think, that hasn’t changed. That said, I’m not entirely sure what it’s like there now.

We touched on the absence of dogma, but we didn’t discuss Auroville’s founders. I should mention Sri Aurobindo – a freedom fighter and visionary thinker. His writings were widely circulated in Western Europe at the turn of the 20th century. Having studied at Cambridge, he returned to India, where he played an influential role in the resistance against British rule. Eventually, he was forced to flee British India, seeking refuge in Pondicherry, which was then under French control. There, he was joined by a Frenchwoman, Mira Alfassa, who helped him establish an ashram that attracted many Westerners – even Margaret Woodrow Wilson, the daughter of an American president, lived there at one time. Auroville was another project deeply inspired by Sri Aurobindo’s ideas.

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Nature around Auroville, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: When I read about Mira Afassa – the Mother (the key foundational figure of Auroville), I discovered that she came from an extremely privileged family. Do you think she would have had the impel to create Auroville had she come from a less privileged background?

KB: I have a mixed attitude towards both the Mother and Sri Aurobindo. At first glance, it’s easy to mistake their presence in Auroville for religion or dogmatism. But one must understand that in India, things are done differently. For instance, you can find portraits of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother on altars in Hindu temples outside Auroville, surrounded by flowers. To me, that feels like turning someone who wasn’t a deity into one. But in India, it doesn’t necessarily mean they are seen as gods – it’s more about showing respect in a particular way.

I found it easier to understand Sri Aurobindo. He was a man deeply committed to India’s independence, engaging in the struggle through nonviolent means – running newspapers, writing passionately about freedom, and framing it as a responsibility as much as a right. He was a thinker, and at some point, he was joined by the Mother – a woman from Parisian bourgeoisie who had led an extraordinary life. When you start to read about her, it becomes clear she made choices that many women today might still find daunting, such as leaving her first husband and child and changing continents twice. She was drawn to theosophy and explored how spirituality could shape who we are in the world.

This interest led her to encounter Sri Aurobindo’s philosophy. Fascinated by his ideas, she went to India, stayed with him, and began interpreting his thoughts in ways that made them accessible to a wider audience. Initially, she established an ashram for him in Pondicherry. Later – long after his death – she was instrumental in founding Auroville, which was her vision. Would she have been able to achieve this if she had come from a different background? I’m not sure. She was an incredibly effective and remarkable woman. I’m not certain I ever learned to like her, but I did learn to respect her.

AD: So what do you dislike about her?

KB: I never met her, and I never will. I suppose my dislike isn’t so much about her, but more about how she is revered by those who had contact with her – or even by those who didn’t, yet tell stories about how she appeared to them in their dreams and how she truly touched them, changing their entire lives. Do you know Amma?

AD: Yes, I know exactly who she is, and many people urged me to visit her. But in the end, I didn’t go.

KB: For those who may not know, Amma is a woman known for hugging people, and through these hugs, many feel their lives have been profoundly transformed. It’s as if they’ve found a deep connection with someone who, to them, embodies the essence of a mother. Incidentally, amma means mother. I haven’t met her myself, but I’ve seen films showing grown men weeping because they feel they’ve finally found a home – a place where they no longer need to prove anything, where they can simply be themselves. I’m simplifying, of course, but I do think the Mother played a similar role for many people, especially those who came to Auroville in its early days.

A significant number of these early arrivals had been children during World War II – often born just before, during, or immediately after the war. Many had either endured trauma themselves or grown up in families that were deeply scarred by it. Some had lost family members in the war, while others had parents whose lives had been shattered by what they had experienced. They were lost, searching for something or someone to help them heal. For these people, the Mother must have been an extraordinary figure. There are accounts available online describing meetings with her. Just one look from the Mother, they say, was enough to make you feel as though you had come home – that you were loved, that you needed nothing else, and that you had finally found what you were searching for.

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A hut in Auroville, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: How do you think the concept of utopia changes when it transitions from an idea to a lived experience?

KB: I think imagining things on paper is always flawed because it fails to account for how diverse people are and how varied our needs can be. This is precisely Auroville’s strength – it doesn’t assume we’re all the same or that we all share identical needs. Instead, it works from the premise that we’re collectively striving for a better world, however we choose to define it. Embedded in Auroville’s philosophy is the recognition that there’s no single path forward – no rigid set of rules that everyone must follow.

I’ve read many of the most famous utopian works from the Renaissance and Enlightenment, and I wouldn’t want to live in any of those worlds. They give me chills with their meticulous planning, dictating everything from who can sleep with whom, to how many children must be born each year, to which child is assigned to which village. These are meticulously designed societies, often with some overarching social ideal at their core. It’s worth remembering, though, that these books were usually critiques of the societies their authors lived in, rather than genuine blueprints for the future.

Later, some of these ideas were tested on smaller scales in what were called intentional communities. One of my favourites is Fourier’s phalanstère. Fourier, who was the first to use the term feminism, envisioned small communes with a division of labour, and he believed that once enough of these communities existed, even the seas would turn from salty water to lemonade. I find this both charming and utterly mad. But it’s anecdotal. What Auroville demonstrates is that there are no universal rules to follow. Instead, it’s all about embracing the chaotic mess of life and trying to piece something meaningful together.

AD: Actually, what it sounds like to me, is that utopias limit freedom. It’s not about doing whatever you want. And that brings me to my next point – that Auroville requires very hard, physical labour.

KB: First, society limits freedom. I’m reading my son a book with lessons like: you can’t have a chocolate castle, and no, you can’t get a dinosaur from an egg. Nowadays, there are so many incredible books for children that teach the idea that there’s a limit to what you can have because not everything is possible. Living in society isn’t freedom – or at least, it depends on how we understand freedom. Is freedom doing whatever you feel like, or is it freedom from your impulses, where we act according to certain social norms and the belief that relationships are important?

And yes, Auroville is hard work. You could try going there to laze around and not do much, but that misses the point. I think anyone would quickly feel that it’s not really a place for that kind of idleness. It’s a place where, if you become an Aurovilian, you agree to work for the community and to share the same resources as everyone else. It’s volunteer work for which you’re given an allowance that covers things like housing and other expenses. If you run a business, the profits go back to Auroville’s community fund. There’s always a lot of work to be done – physical work, too. The worst job of my life was grating coconut for breakfast porridge for 80 people by hand, using an old Tamil method. It takes two hours.

AD: I collected trash in the ashram.

KB: Ah, well, exactly.

AD: In your observations, how does Auroville manage the balance between individual aspirations and collective goals?

KB: Everyone is invited to bring their own ideas. The collective goal of Auroville is to create and support human unity. One achieves that by allowing people to be themselves and, through being themselves, to try to achieve something – even small things, like planting a tree together. If people find ways to work through their differences and build a city, they will achieve human unity. It sounds great when you hear it, but it can be challenging when you participate – because things won’t go the way you want them to. It’s so difficult to be challenged and to compromise. Actually, the hardest work in Auroville is working on your ego.

AD: Did people argue?

KB: Oh yes, there are plenty of disputes. But there’s no anxiety that arguing contradicts the idea of unity. Quite the opposite – these disputes are meant to help us work out a common position, eventually leading to some form of unity. One of the phrases I heard most often in Auroville is, ‘Oh, you have an idea? Go ahead and do it.’

As for your question about what serves as verification for someone who wants to become an Aurovilian, I think it’s this: some people don’t have the strength, the will, the resilience, or the motivation to truly follow through on what they propose. To fully immerse themselves. And so, they leave.

AD: But do you have to have an idea to do something in order to be in Auroville?

KB: No, you don’t have to. You can simply water the forest and plant more trees.

AD: I have to admit, I read the book and couldn’t stop. You’re a fantastic storyteller.

KB: Thank you! It was a challenge. My previous books were about war refugees and natural disasters – reporters typically write about disasters. I’ve been in refugee camps and in areas devastated by tsunamis. It’s very easy to engage people with a tragedy. But it’s much harder to engage them with something that’s an interesting experiment where, frankly, not much happens. There were some conflicts, but the fact that a city was founded on certain ideals and is still trying to uphold them – that’s a tough pitch for a publisher. Still, the book will be published in the US next year, in English.

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Slacklining in Auroville, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: I think the characters you chose are one of the most fascinating aspects of the book. Of course, the way you described them makes a big difference as well, but they were all truly captivating. We’ll leave that for the readers to discover. Alright, next question: In what ways do you think Auroville’s history of being founded by non-locals impacts its present dynamics and future prospects?

KB: That’s a good question. I can speak about the dynamics as they were in 2018. Auroville was founded by both locals and non-locals. The main founder, the visionary and inspiration behind it, was the Mother, who was French. At the same time, in South India, she was seen as the companion of someone very significant to the local people. This gave her a sort of in-between status. In the beginning, many people came from the Western world – the United States, Europe, Canada, and Australia. I know there were some tensions, but people from the local villages and other parts of India also joined. Not all locals wanted to join right away; perhaps they didn’t fully understand the concept of Auroville, or it didn’t interest them. It may have felt too distant from their day-to-day realities and survival needs.

Today, the dynamic is that nearly 50% of Aurovilians are from India, while the rest come from various parts of the world. In the early days, the proportions were different, likely because Auroville was founded by the Mother, who had the networks to promote it internationally. Initially, more people came from the West. Over time, this changed as Auroville is located in India, making it easier for Indians to join. If it hadn’t been so international at the start, I think it would be predominantly Indian today. This diverse foundation has contributed to the city’s varied and innovative solutions.

AD: What insights did you gain about the human capacity for change and adaptation through your time in Auroville?

KB: We are definitely extraordinary in our capacity to adapt. We have fantastic energy when we follow something we believe in. Often, we do foolish things. That’s true. But it’s great if we can then say to ourselves, ‘That was foolish; I’ll try something else.’ Maybe even apologize to those the foolishness might have hurt. What was great in Auroville was this honesty towards oneself and others.

AD: But despite the quarrels, I imagine people respected each other?

KB: In the beginning, there were all sorts of stories about how people argued, who was thought to be in the wrong, and who wasn’t. There were really huge arguments – Auroville wars, you might say. Today, there’s much more acceptance of differences. I even considered joining at one point. But I had to be honest with myself: while the city offers some fascinating possibilities, my work involves travelling. There’s an expectation that if you become an Aurovilian, you commit to it fully. You don’t travel around the world; you stay and help build the city. So, I decided against joining. That said, I’ve learned to respect Aurovilians. And I’ve also learned how easy it is to criticise something you don’t fully understand.

People say it’s a façade, that it’s only for the rich, that it ignores the poverty around it, that it hasn’t done enough, that in 50 years it’s achieved nothing. Where’s the unity, they ask, if people argue about trees, fences, and other things? But we could just as easily ask the same questions of ourselves. What have we done to change the world around us? At least they’re trying – that’s how I see it. It might be imperfect, it might sometimes seem laughable or frustrating, but at least they’re trying. There were many things I encountered there that didn’t resonate with me – lots of contradictions. But again, it’s easy for me to criticise. And when I reflect on my own life, I see plenty of contradictions there too.

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Activities in Auroville, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: Can you share any moments when the idealistic visions of Auroville clashed sharply with reality and how the community responded?

KB: I think this happens every day. But that’s exactly what building something meant to be a utopia is about. Here in Warsaw, I hold an ideal: to live a greener, more sustainable life. I'm not even aiming for a completely zero-emission lifestyle – just a more environmentally friendly one. Yet, almost every day, I find myself grappling with cognitive dissonance because I fall short of this goal.

Aurovillians have ideals, too. They think they’ll become better versions of themselves and stop losing their tempers with others. But then they explode. And I think that’s very human. The beginnings were absolutely crazy. The fact that a city grew out of it is extraordinary to me. Many people who came to Auroville had children there, believed that these children had a different consciousness, that they were a new species of human, a new kind of being. But they’re not a new kind of being. They are still people who are simply trying every day to be better versions of themselves, and it doesn’t always work. You don’t have to be a saint to join. That’s also great – that’s what it’s about, trying to create something despite yourself.

AD: Do you have to be selfless to live in Auroville?

KB: I don’t think so. I’m sure many live there who have strong egos. Most of those who were there at the start were driven by love for the Mother. And they just did things with such strong motivation to build something, to create something. I think that must have been a very formative experience for them. A very beautiful experience, but in incredibly tough conditions. Now, people have beautiful living conditions, but perhaps it’s harder to find motivation in Auroville.

AD: What can we learn from Auroville?

KB: Be open to the ideas of others! Support those ideas, respect the other person, and remain open to change. Accept that you may constantly have to start from zero, or that you might reach a point where an idea that once worked must be abandoned because it suddenly stops working. That kind of openness – to the fact that the world is constantly changing and unpredictable – is incredibly challenging.

AD: Less scepticism.

KB: I think we have a lot of that here in Poland. A bit more belief that other worlds are possible.

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A marathon in Auroville, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: I really liked when you said that Auroville is not an escape from reality.

KB: It’s a place where you confront yourself. If you want to do something, you hear: ‘Okay, then do it.’ You have to find your own motivation to make it happen. And that’s not always easy. It’s much easier to think to yourself – I would like the world to look like this, this, and this. I have an idea to make it beautiful, but when it turns out you want it to be that beautiful, the steps leading there are very demanding. And then everything changes. So you need internal motivation. You have to act. The people who go there have strong personalities. They also have ideas about how things should be. And this reality isn’t a place where you lounge by the pool, on a deck chair, volunteering six hours a day and then just relaxing. It’s a place where you engage with others and work on something together.

This engagement often becomes a space where conflicting ideas, interests and even arguments emerge. I was once deeply struck by something Nicolas Bouvier wrote in The Way of the World, a book from the 1950s, that wherever you go, you always bring yourself along. Maybe for a moment, we manage to pretend we left ourselves behind in Warsaw or at the airport and that, for a few days in India, Japan or Brazil, we are someone else. But you can only deceive yourself for a few days. Then, our own demons catch up with us. And in Auroville, they certainly catch up with us, too. Especially because it’s truly a place where people say, ‘Go on, do it.’ There’s no pampering, no mollycoddling, like ‘We’ll take care of you here, you don’t have to do anything anymore.’ No, it’s always ‘Don’t like how the financial system works? Create a new one.’

AD: In a previous interview, you said, ‘Auroville has no importance to the world’. Do you still believe that?

KB: Yes and no. Generally speaking, if you look at what’s happening in the entire world, the fact that a group of people in southern India is trying something new has no significance. But it is significant that people are trying. If activists in Cambodia and in the Amazon fighting against deforestation didn’t try, we’d be in an even worse place than we are now.

AD: These sorts of efforts have great local value.

KB: Exactly. But globally, the significance is that they can inspire. The fact that they restored a forest in the desert over a dozen years is a huge inspiration. In fact, this project has been replicated in other parts of India. Not as an intentional city or village, but simply as a reforestation project.

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At work in Auroville, photo: courtesy of Auroville

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AD: But was there once a forest there that was cut down, or was it always a desert?

KB: There was a forest there once, but the British and the French cut it down. The Aurovilians restored it. Most of the trees had been wiped out, and the only places where the seeds survived were the groves around temples, as the British didn’t go there. In these groves, the old tree species still existed. Aurovilians travelled across Tamil Nadu, collecting seeds from these trees, and from those seeds, they restored the forest. Of course, it wasn’t a one-to-one restoration. They also had to introduce other species at the beginning, just to stabilise the land.

AD: So, let’s talk about the Mother. Tell me about her. And why did you save her for last in your book? You’d think she’d be the first person mentioned since everything stems from her.

KB: I thought about the structure of this book for a long time. It has three separate sections that complement each other, each giving us a fuller understanding of the previous part. I decided to place the Mother at the end because I felt – as it was in my own experience – that if you encounter her too quickly, it’s easy to label Auroville as a sect. This leaves little patience to recognise that the effort behind creating Auroville was truly valuable. It’s easy to dismiss Auroville, saying it was founded by this eccentric woman, that everyone believed in her, and now her portraits are everywhere. But Auroville is much more than that. I also wanted to create some distance from her. Still, I couldn’t pretend she wasn’t there. I wanted to dedicate an entire part of the book to her – not just sprinkle references to her throughout – because I wanted to understand her. I’m not sure I succeeded.

I don’t feel that I fully understood her, but I do understand her better. I have more respect for the decisions she made in her life – decisions I wouldn’t have had the desire or courage to make. And, as you mentioned, I didn’t want her to overshadow the people who ultimately created Auroville, because she was only the impulse. I met people who have portraits of the Mother everywhere, and it’s quite frightening. Not because the Mother was like that, but because these people believe in her so much that they’ve turned her into a kind of religious symbol. And she never asked for that.

AD: Will Auroville continue to exist into the future?

KB: In 2018, I would have said yes, definitely. From the reports I have now, I’m not so sure. In the sense that yes, it will survive, but I don’t know if it will as a city in the same spirit in which it was founded. The current Indian government is taking steps to further nationalise India, and that ties into a broader story about the current political situation. Sri Aurobindo is an important symbol – perhaps even more coherent than Gandhi. There are concerns – which were already present when I was there – that Auroville could be co-opted for the political purposes of the Indian prime minister.

What’s unique is that India granted Auroville many privileges. What other country in the world would agree to hand over a piece of land for a social experiment initiated by people from across the globe? And they haven’t controlled it much. They didn’t really influence how Auroville’s internal politics functioned or interfere in its conflicts. They allowed it to exist naturally, which is extraordinary. However, this seems to be slowly changing. I think interference is increasing, and control is becoming more pronounced. Things are shifting all over the world.

AD: What has this entire experience with Auroville taught you?

KB: That a lot depends on me. In the sense that I can walk around saying that I’m outraged at the way things are or how others are approaching it. But in reality, you have to turn the mirror around and ask, ‘OK, but what are you doing?’ It’s easy to criticise, it’s harder to build. I ask myself what kind of world I want to create around me.

Since having a child, I miss Auroville and the community there. It’s a great place for raising children, where they grow up in nature with the freedom to explore, get dirty, and climb trees.

The education system, focusing on ‘Awareness through the body,’ is something I believe should be in every school, but isn’t. Children are not only literate but excel academically thanks to a system that nurtures both their mind and body. I miss that freedom for my child – the ability to let him run wild in the forest, instead of constantly worrying about him here – making sure he doesn't run into the street. The education there seems extraordinary to me.

A Brave New, Not so Wonderful, World: Reportage & Utopia

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