There is a famous Indian story of the elephant and seven blind men, which like many tales of folk wisdom, has several regional and cultural variations. In the version told by the Jains, one of the men places his hands on the elephant's ears, another on his legs, and so on. The first man says; 'The elephant is a big flat fan-like animal'. 'No,' says the second. 'I touched the animal, and it is like a thick round post all the way from the ground to as high as I could reach'. The third man shouted: 'You are both wrong. It is a long rope-like thing with lots of hair on it and it moves up and down all the time'. Each man in turn defines one aspect of the elephant as the whole, until the animal's owner finally says:

'All of you are correct in what you have described, but all are also wrong because each of you has touched only one side of the elephant. Had you been able to examine all the sides with all your senses, you would have realised that each of you is right from your individual viewpoint, but the truth is something different altogether.'

The moral of this story is that the truth can be approached from a variety of angles, just as a cut diamond reflects the light through many facets, or a mountain top is reached by different paths, some straight, some winding. Recognising this is the basis for the principles of tolerance and diversity loudly proclaimed by Western liberals but also integral to the Indic spiritual paths. The truth has many aspects, but it is a dangerous violation of truth to elevate one of these above all the rest to an article of absolute faith. To do this is the intellectual equivalent of chopping off one of the elephant's limbs.

Blindness in the story is a metaphor for the obscuring of consciousness by one-sided dogma. We see the results of this in fundamentalism and sectarianism, both through the violence that is their logical conclusion and in the maimed personalities of fundamentalists themselves, who have lost the ability to feel sympathy or exercise compassion. Such blindness is also reflected in the Punch and Judy politics of 'left' and 'right' and ideologies that place the market, or the state, above the individual, the community of beings (human and non-human) and the environment that sustains life.

The best inoculation against fundamentalism is the holistic approach to truth. This the Jains call anekantvada, or many-sidedness. It recognises that truth is multi-faceted, complex and subtle. We are therefore wise to approach it with humility. Each of us is on a spiritual journey towards it, from whatever angle we are approaching, and it might take us many lifetimes to get there. Those who claim vociferously that they have arrived at the truth are usually those furthest from it. Those who are closest to enlightenment, by contrast, are noted for their equanimity and modesty.

Anekantvada is non-violence of the mind, the intellectual aspect of ahimsa, the absence of harm which is the essence of Jainism. Yet Jains do not claim exclusive ownership of ahimsa. To do so would contradict the principle of non-violence, and in any case ahimsa is also the basis of all Indic philosophy. True Hindus should recognise the idea of anekantvada, because the Vedic Dharma recognises the Many Names of God, the multiple pathways to the same spiritual core. In this sense, Jainism reflects Hinduism in its true form and conversely, true Hinduism is Jain. Viewed in this light, the debate over whether Jains are Hindus or a separate tradition is irrelevant and unhelpful. A Jain or a Hindu is anyone who seeks to live non-violently and tread more lightly on the face of the Earth. The ancient wisdom of many-sidedness might prove to be India's greatest gift to the planet.

Aidan Rankin's book The Jain Path: Ancient Wisdom for the West is published by O Books, www.o-books.com