A N IN TRODUCTION TO IN DI A N
PHILOSOPH Y
An Introduction to Indian Philosophy offers a profound yet accessible survey of the
development of India’s philosophical tradition. Beginning with the formation of
Brāhma ṇical, Jaina, Materialist, and Buddhist traditions, Bina Gupta guides the
reader through the classical schools of Indian thought, culminating in a look at how
these traditions inform Indian philosophy and society in modern times. Offering
translations from source texts and clear explanations of philosophical terms, this
text provides a rigorous overview of Indian philosophical contributions to epistemology, metaphysics, philosophy of language, and ethics. This is a must-read for
anyone seeking a reliable and illuminating introduction to Indian philosophy.
Key Updates in the Second Edition
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Reorganized into seven parts and sixteen chapters, making it easier for instructors to assign chapters for a semester-long course.
Continues to introduce systems historically but focuses on new key questions
and issues within each system.
Details new arguments, counter-arguments, objections, and their reformulations in the nine schools of Indian philosophy.
Offers expanded discussion of how various schools of Indian philosophy are
engaged with each other.
Highlights key concepts and adds new grey boxes to explain selected key
concepts.
Includes a new section that problematizes the Western notion of “philosophy.”
New Suggested Readings sections are placed at the end of each chapter, which
include recommended translations, a bibliography of important works, and
pertinent recent scholarship for each school.
Adds a new part (Part III) that explains the diffculties involved in translating
from Sanskrit to English, discusses the fundamental concepts and conceptual
distinctions often used to present Indian philosophy to Western students, and
reviews important features and maxims that most darśanas follow.
Provides new examples of applications to illustrate more obscure concepts
and principles.
Bina Gupta is Curators’ Research Professor Emerita at the University of
Missouri-Columbia and Affliated Faculty, South Asian Studies, University of
Pennsylvania.
A N INTRODUCTION TO
IN DI A N PHILOSOPH Y
Perspectives on Reality, Knowledge, and
Freedom
SECOND EDITION
Bina Gupta
Second edition published 2021
by Routledge
52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017
and by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2021 Taylor & Francis
The right of Bina Gupta to be identifed as author of this work has
been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or
reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical,
or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
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Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks
or registered trademarks, and are used only for identifcation and
explanation without intent to infringe.
First edition published by Routledge (2012)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this title has been requested
ISBN: 978-0-367-36308-6 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-0-367-35899-0 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-0-429-34521-0 (ebk)
Typeset in Baskerville
by codeMantra
To
Claudio, the light of our daughter’s life and whom
Madan and I cherish as our “son,”
Sonya, Dylan, Avi (my three grandchildren)
who make all worthwhile,
Swati (daughter) and Madan (husband)
my anchors, my orbit, and for being the voices
of sanity in my life
CON TEN TS
ix
xvii
Preface
List of Abbreviations
PA RT I
1
Introduction
1 Introduction
3
PA RT I I
25
The Foundations
2 The Beginnings of Indian Philosophy: The Vedas
27
3 The Upaniṣads
41
PA RT I I I
Dar śanas: Preliminary Considerations
4 Darśanas: Preliminary Considerations
57
59
PA RT I V
Non-Vedic Dar śanas
75
5 Indian Materialism: The Lok āyata/Cārvā ka Darśana
and the Śrama ṇas
77
6 The Jaina Darśana
91
7 The Bauddha Darśana
106
vii
CONTENTS
PA RT V
The Ancient Dar śanas
135
8 The M īmāṃsā Darśana
137
9 The Sāṁ khya Darśana
157
10 The Yoga Darśana
176
11 The Vaiśeṣika Darśana
191
12 The Nyāya Darśana
209
PA RT V I
Systems with Global Impact
237
13 The Buddhist Schools
239
14 The Vedānta Darśana
269
PA RT V I I
The Bhagavad G ītā
319
15 The Bhagavad G īt ā
321
PA RT V I I I
Modern Indian Thought
345
16 Modern Indian Thought
347
PA RT I X
Translations of Selected Texts
367
Appendix A: The Foundations
368
Appendix B: The Non-Vedic Systems
380
Appendix C: Ancient Systems
393
Appendix D: Systems with Global Impact
415
Glossary of Important Sanskrit Words
Notes
Selected Bibliography
Index
427
436
462
467
viii
PR EFACE
This is the book I always wanted to write; however, I postponed writing it for
almost four decades. One may ask: Why?
In the early seventies, as a young assistant professor, I was completely taken
aback by two persistent misconceptions.
1
2
I became painfully aware of the marginalization of Indian philosophy in
philosophy departments at American universities, of the prevalent deepseated prejudice that Indian philosophy lacks theoretical rigor, that it is
theology at its best, and, at the other end, it is motivated by practical
concerns rather than being directed toward the disinterested search for a
theory that characterizes Western philosophy.
To make the matters worse, I was told in many ways that most good
philosophers are men and that women couldn’t be good philosophers. It
was triple jeopardy for me; a woman, a minority with a dark complexion,
and working in an area which allegedly is not a legitimate philosophical
enterprise. The issues became: How can a woman philosopher living in
the United States do Indian philosophy, and how can an Indian woman
do philosophy per se?
I will begin with the frst misconception. I realized that if I wish to thrive in a
PhD granting philosophy department in the United States, writing an Indian
philosophy textbook is not a viable option.
In response to the above challenge, I decided to focus on Advaita Vedānta,
one of the nine schools of Indian philosophy. This entailed for me several
things: First, I must re-read the original Sanskrit texts of the great Vedānta
teachers, especially of Śa ṃ kara, along with the most important commentaries
on them; secondly, I must use all the tools of philosophy, whether Eastern or
Western, to interpret their theses and supporting arguments; and thirdly, I
must interpret Vedānta in light of textual exegesis. In order to be able to enter
into the traditional Vedāntic schools, I studied Sanskrit texts under traditional
pandits (classical scholars) in India. Thus, I worked hard toward equipping
myself with Sanskrit-based Vedānta scholarship, along with the Western phenomenological, logical, and analytical methodologies.
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P R E FAC E
I translated and interpreted Sanskrit texts to bring out their logical, epistemological, and analytical bases with a philosophical and rigorously analytical
approach, at times, using the Western conceptual apparatus. Provoked by the
Western analytic thinking and the criticisms of Indian philosophy, I began
pondering over the following questions: Could analytic thinking and logical
analysis make sense of the Advaitic thesis that the “brahman alone is real, world
is ‘false,’ and all individuals are identical”? Could phenomenology help make
sense of the Advaitic notion of a pure, non-intentional consciousness? Can
Advaita fnd room for the individual’s existential individuality and freedom of
choice? Who could have predicted that these questions will preoccupy me for
over four decades—that they would, so to speak, become my destiny?
Thus, for over four decades, in my published works, and my class lectures,
my goal had been to demonstrate that Indian philosophy is an intensely intellectual, rigorously discursive, and relentlessly critical pursuit. My efforts initially resulted in the publication of several short studies in the form of articles,
essays, book chapters, and fnally, several books on different facets of Indian
philosophy with a focus on Advaita Vedānta. However, after gaining the title
of Curators’ Research Professor (highest award for research accomplishments
from my university), I thought that the time has arrived for me to begin crafting the narrative of a textbook on Indian philosophy, and several reasons reinforced in my mind that such a work is sorely needed. So, when Routledge
contacted me, I accepted the offer.
Indian philosophy represents an accumulation of an enormous body of material refecting the philosophical activity of 3,000 years, but it is ignored in
most PhD granting philosophy departments in the United States. Frustrated
with this marginalization of Indian philosophy, many scholars, writing on
Indian philosophy, using the rhetoric of modern Western analytic philosophy, began making a case for Indian philosophy as a legitimate enterprise
by demonstrating parallels between Indian and Western analytic philosophy,
and, an increasing number of scholars to this day are doing the same. Unfortunately, an academic philosophical world in the United States still continues
to ignore non-Western philosophy and maintains that Indian philosophy is
not worthy of being included in their graduate curriculum.
Before proceeding further, let me note here that, I am not arguing against
cross-cultural comparisons. However, I have considerable anxieties about
presenting Indian philosophical thought dressed up in the garb of Western
rhetoric, particularly in the rhetoric of modern Western analytic philosophy
in which the distinctive logic of Indian thinking, the nature of Indian analysis
of thought, the nature of disputation, and the style in which philosophy was
conducted in India, is totally lost. I am simply pointing out that comparing
philosophical ideas in a piecemeal fashion at times may be dangerous because
though an idea in one tradition may seem to be very similar to another idea in
a different tradition, that similarity may only be deceptive. So, in detaching
ideas from their background and contextual contexts, one runs the risk of
oversimplifcation and decontextualization. One must exercise great caution
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P R E FAC E
in using such an approach. It is imperative that we identify the entire setting
and proceed based on the overall context. Indian philosophy must neither
be viewed from a religion-theological perspective nor is there any need to
unthinkingly foist upon it the structures of Western rationality. Indian philosophy must be presented in its own terms, and that is what I have done in
this work.
I had taught an upper-division Indian philosophy course and a graduate
seminar each on Advaita Vedānta and Eastern ethics for over four decades. In
my lectures, one of my goals had been to demonstrate the theoretical and the
discursive nature of Indian philosophy; so, I decided to use my lecture notes as
the point of departure for this book. I belong to the old school; I always handwrote my lecture notes. I hired students to type these notes, and the rough
draft of the frst edition was born.
The book introduces students to the style in which philosophy was conducted in India, that through the centuries there has been a remarkable development, emergence of new interpretations of the ancient texts, new ways
of arguing for the old theses, and the emergence of new interpretations of the
ancient texts, and, at times, a totally novel point of view. I have tried to be
as faithful to the Indian tradition as was possible for me, to enable students
to have an accurate and authentic understanding of the various philosophical conceptions that exist on the Indian philosophical scene. The book will
help students understand the different ways in which basic philosophic issues
have been considered in India and introduce them to an understanding of the
Indian mind.
The work primarily focuses on classical darśanas (schools) of Indian philosophy.1 The basic Sanskrit texts are presented in argument-counterarguments, objection-reply forms, and it is important that students appreciate the
rhetoric that bears testimony to the vibrant Indian intellectual life. Such a
mode of presentation is also needed to dispel from the minds of the Western
readers certain persistent myths about Indian philosophy and to bring home
to them the truth of Indian philosophy, namely, that it has been a genuinely
philosophical and intellectual, highly sophisticated, rigorous discipline. I
would like students to understand a particular philosophical system in its integrity, to enter into its fundamental doctrines with an open mind to grasp its
philosophy as a whole, and subject each philosophical school to philosophical
criticisms, frst, of an internal sort, to reveal fundamental inconsistencies between the different assumptions of the philosophy, and, secondly, an external
sort which discloses the limitations of a given philosophy when judged in the
context of the phases of human experience and knowledge to which it fails to
do justice.
Though I have introduced the darśanas in historical order, the exposition of
each system focuses on certain key questions and issues. The book not only
demonstrates the theoretical and the discursive nature of Indian philosophy,
but also shows that there exist an amazing variety of epistemological, metaphysical, ethical, and religious conceptions in Indian philosophy. These
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P R E FAC E
conceptions developed within a period roughly of 1,500 years and contain
very sophisticated arguments and counter-arguments that were advanced by
the defenders of each thesis and its opponents. My approach therefore may be
called historical-cum-philosophical. The source material of Indian philosophy particularly demands such a combination.
Regarding the content of this book, an introduction sets the stage for
what is to come in the subsequent chapters. I begin with the Vedas and the
Upaniṣads, the foundational texts of the tradition, where one fnds the frst
philosophical questions and some decisive answers. I discuss the three n āstika
and the six āstika systems. The encounter with the Buddhist critique led to the
rise and the strengthening of the Vedic darśanas, each with its epistemological bases, logical theory, metaphysics, and ethics. A systematic exposition of
the darśanas gradually takes precedence over the historical and we have the
six āstika darśanas expounded in a manner that skips over centuries of development. All this leads to the section in which four schools of Buddhism and
Vedānta become the focus of my attention, because as we stand today in the
twenty-frst century; it is these two that have earned a global interest. There
have been numerous attempts to interpret and reinterpret them in novel ways.
This book expounds on various positions rather freely, and, in detail, while
staying close to Sanskrit sources, which are relevant for contemporary students’ interests. It also adds some selected texts in lucid English translation
without jeopardizing the integrity of original Sanskrit texts. Wherever necessary, I have added comments in parentheses to make translations easier to
understand. It is my hope that these translations will give students some taste
of the literary style and philosophical rhetoric of the source material, without
being too bogged down with philosophical questions.
I do realize that some of the material discussed in this book is complex, and
my use of Sanskrit terms throughout the book further compounds the problem. I am assuming that students will have familiarity with such philosophical
terms as “epistemology,” “metaphysics,” reality,” and “appearance.” They,
however, might have no acquaintance with such Indian philosophical terms
as “ātman,” “brahman,” “pram āṇas,” “dharma,” “mok ṣa,” etc. I have explained
selected important technical terms in their frst occurrence, when they occur
after an interval, and in explanatory grey boxes in the body of each chapter. Additionally, Part III discusses issues surrounding translations. Section
I of this part introduces students to the diffculties involved in translating
from Sanskrit into English. Presenting Indian philosophy in English does not
amount to simply translating from one language to another; it requires the use
of concepts that are familiar to Western scholars and identifcation of them
in the Sanskrit philosophical discourse. Section II examines which Sanskrit
terms can be translated as “reason,” “experience” “intuition,” “transcendent,” “transcendental,” etc. and, alternately, which English terms may be used
for “ jñ āna,” “pram āṇas,” “anubhava,” etc. This leads to questions of conceptual
meaning: Does “ jñ āna” mean “knowledge” in the Western sense of the term?
Is there a concept of “reason” in Indian philosophy? Are Indian philosophies
xii
P R E FAC E
rational structures, and if so, in what sense? In using Western concepts, are we
importing into our understanding of Indian thought concepts already loaded
with the history of Western religion and philosophies? Section III, prior to
undertaking an in-depth discussion of the nine darśanas, identifes their important features as well as selected maxims they followed.
Wherever necessary and useful, I have related Sanskrit concepts to Western concepts in terms of thematic relevance. Notwithstanding the fact that a
comparison of Indian concepts with Western concepts is not intrinsically necessary to explain Indian thought in English, any translation unavoidably is an
exercise in comparative philosophy. Additionally, when one uses the known
to explain the unknown, familiar to explain the unfamiliar, the unknown
becomes less unknown and the unfamiliar less unfamiliar, and helps students
gain an understanding of the unknown. I have also incorporated materials
from my published and unpublished works in this book which, in my opinion,
might illuminate and help students gain insights into the Indian mind.
Though I always wanted to write this book, completing the frst edition
became challenging due to some unforeseen medical challenges. One of the
purposes of the second edition has been to correct the mistakes of the frst
edition. I have thoroughly edited the book, softened the style to make it more
accessible to beginners, included fundamental postulates at the beginning of
each system, explained diffcult Sanskrit terms in explanatory boxes, drawn
students’ attention to recent scholarship, explained how various schools of
Indian philosophy engaged with each other, and compared Indian concepts
with familiar Western concepts so that they may gain insights into the Indian
cultural context. I have also added study questions–which include the applicability of selected concepts and principles to real-life situations–and suggested
readings at the conclusion of each chapter.
Given that I have retired, and this is my last book, I will candidly share with
you some of my thoughts regarding my professional journey. It has been a
diffcult journey, but the journey worth taking. During this journey, what has
saddened me the most is the gender bias and the double standard practiced
in the philosophical circles in the United States. This brings me to the second
misconception mentioned at the outset of this Preface.2
In a nutshell, the problem with gender bias is two-fold. First, the assumption of male superiority with its claim to objectivity or pure reason in academia and elsewhere is pervasive, and women have no recourse to discourse
or a meta-narrative to combat the insidious abuses of power. Secondly, the
male perspective scholarship limits not only women but philosophy as well,
and, for that matter, all forms of knowledge. This suppression of women's ways
of knowing has been going on for centuries and can be referred to as the “gendering of knowledge” as an exclusive realm for male cultural domination. If
one controls knowledge one controls everything.
This is not the place to detail these biases. However, it would be unworthy
of me if I did not note that these biases dictate every phase of evaluation in academia: Tenure, promotion, review of fellowship proposals and manuscripts,
xiii
P R E FAC E
etc., and impact women adversely. Some women accede, others withdraw, still
others change careers, and leave academia altogether. I had no choice but to
confront these male biases. To accede, to give up, was not in my DNA. Let
me elaborate.
My father, a very religious man, often discussed with his children the basic
Advaita thesis that all human beings share the same universal consciousness
(ātman, or soul), and that wisdom comes in seeing all beings in one’s self and
seeing one’s self in all beings. Apart from the basic Advaitic beliefs, there was
another point that he had indelibly stamped upon my mind; viz., women are
not second-class citizens; they can do anything they set their minds to do. I
had a fascination for different languages; I had already taken courses in Sanskrit and Bengali. I wanted to learn German; he encouraged me to sign up for
German courses, which I did. Bear in mind, encouraging a daughter to pursue her interests was a very progressive and unusual attitude given both the
time and the cultural context. I struggled hard to reconcile the Advaita doctrine of the identity of all human beings with the treatment women received
in India. I was overwhelmed by these concerns and with these unresolved
tensions in mind, left India for the United States.
When I emigrated from India to the United States in 1970, given that I
came from a very sheltered upper-middle-class family, I was totally unaware
of the struggles taking place to achieve equal treatment of women and minorities. I remember watching the Billy Jean King and Bobby Riggs tennis match
being referred to as the “battle of the sexes” by American television. The
expression, “Battle of the Sexes,” was being fashed on the TV screen repeatedly…and I found myself asking, “What the heck is this battle of the sexes?”
I was about to fnd out. A series of experiences, to use the words of a famous
philosopher, “aroused me from my dogmatic slumber,” and I soon discovered
that as a woman working in a male-dominated feld of academia—in which
the rational ability of women has historically been suspect—would not be
easy. I was completely taken aback not only by the marginalization of Indian
philosophy but also by prevalent attitudes toward women philosophers.
When I began my philosophical writings, as an Indian, it was tempting to
claim that there is nothing in Western philosophy that is not found in Indian
philosophy. That might well be the case, but I knew that such a declaration
only feeds one’s cultural-political interest; it does not characterize true philosophical wisdom. Though my initial intention was to focus solely on the elucidation of the logical principles and theories inherent in Indian philosophy
and make them accessible to Western scholars, I soon discovered that a full
expression of the complexities of Indian thought requires using the conceptual
apparatus of Western philosophies i to make them intelligible to the Western
audience. The study of East-West had no comparative models from which to
originate discourse. I had to create a methodology based on my knowledge
of two diverse cultural worldviews. This necessitated the ability to speak to
one tradition from inside the other and vice versa leading me to examine issues
from within each tradition to see how they might enlighten and enhance each
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P R E FAC E
other, in order to place living philosophical questions in their full context for
the purpose of approaching the truth. In most of my writings, I tackled issues
and questions by invoking whomever or whatever seems relevant and useful to
the task in most of my published works and conference presentations.
In the present work, however, my primary goal has been to present the classical darśanas (schools) in their own terms, to make students familiarize with
the context in which these schools originated, grew, lived, developed, and had
their being, in order to provide an authentic interpretation of Indian philosophy. I knew the task of writing an introductory book to such a vast topic as
Indian philosophy would be daunting, both by virtue of its magnitude and the
competence needed to carry it out. Any author venturing to write such a book
must not only be conversant with the general philosophical issues, history of
Indian philosophy, and the Buddhist thought but must also possess necessary
linguistic skills, i.e., expertise in the Sanskrit language, a combination which
is not easy to come by. It would be easy to say that it is foolish to undertake
such a book. I accepted the challenge and decided to pursue the project, believing that there is no perfect textbook. No matter how hard an author may
try, gaps remain. If this book entices a few students to pursue Indian philosophy and provides the impetus for further research, it would have served its
purpose.
Especially for a philosopher, it is tempting to remain immersed in the pleasures of abstract thinking and place less weight on many experiences that he/
she undergoes in real life. I, however, frmly believe that one’s thinking is
never fulflling and harmonious until it is brought into practice; I am a practicing Advaitin insofar as I believe that all human beings are equal. Advaita
goes beyond the phenomenal diversity of the world and by a sustained process
of thinking reaches a conception of one reality behind diversity and rises to a
level of thinking that achieves global relevance independently of all cultural
variations. The term “globalization,” in my understanding, implies a process aiming at
creating one world; it is not to be misconstrued as a process of bringing more developed countries
of the West into our backyard. The goal of human existence according to Advaita
Vedānta is to recover the original non-difference of all things, the oneness of
all human beings, the perfection that is implicitly there in the fnite individual.
None is favored. Since diversity is transcended, it is opposed to none but is the
ground of all. The question is: Can Advaita Vedānta serve as a metaphysics
undergirding “globalization”? I will let my readers answer this question.
My own path is thinking, and I do not wish to abandon it. For me it is not
a choice between “rejuvenating” the traditional philosophical ideas and
embracing the analytical and/or phenomenological traditions of the West;
there need not be either the wholesale acceptance or a total rejection of the
past. Rather we must reappraise the traditional to see what is viable in it.
Creativity thrives in an atmosphere of freedom and openness. Conversely,
dogmatic adherence to any tradition, whether indigenous or foreign, amounts
to philosophic suicide. In my works, one fnds neither a simple textual exegesis
nor a freelance analysis. I stay clear of the two extremes. I am guided by the
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conviction that no matter which tradition I am engaged in, I am above all
a philosopher! Phenomenology allows access to the structure of consciousness
regarded as transcendental. Existentialism reveals a human being’s place in
the world. Analytic philosophy shows how philosophical arguments and conceptual rigor work. I believe Indian philosophy incorporates all three of these
approaches; my very existence and my sense of purpose as a philosopher is
tied to showing how this is so, and why it matters.
In closing, I would like to thank my daughter, Swati, and, my husband,
Madan, for believing in me. I really do not know where I would be without
their constant guidance and support.
Bina Gupta,
Phoenixville, PA
January 2021
xvi
A BBR EV I ATIONS
AV
BG
BGBh
BS
BSBh
BU
Cit
CPR
CU
Dasgupta’s History
Digha Nik āya
Disinterested Witness
KUBh
MAU
MMK
MS
MU
NS
NSBh
NVT
PDS
Perceiving
PPD
Reason and Experience
RV
SB
SD
SDS
Atharva Veda
Bhagavad G īt ā
Bhagavad G īt ābh āṣya
Brahmas ūtras
Brahmas ūtrabh āṣya
B ṛhad āranyaka Upani ṣad
Bina Gupta, Cit (Consciousness)
Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, (tr.) Norman Kemp
Smith
Ch āndog ya Upani ṣad
S. N. Dasgupta, History of Indian Philosophy, 5 Vols.
Dialogues of the Buddha, (tr.) W. Rhys Davids
Bina Gupta, Disinterested Witness: A Phenomenological
Analysis
Kena Upani ṣadbh āṣya
Māṇḍukya Upani ṣad
Mūlamadhyamakak ārik ā
M īm āṃsās ūtras
Mu ṇḍaka Upani ṣad
Nyāyas ūtras
Nyāyabh āṣya of Vātsyāyana
Nyāyavārttika, Udyotakara on Nyāyabh āṣya
Praśastapāda’s Pad ārthadharmasaṅgraha
Bina Gupta, Perceiving in Advaita Ved ānta: An
Epistemological Analysis
The Pañcapādik ā of Padmapāda, (tr.) D.
Venkataramiah, 1948
Bina Gupta, Reason and Experience in Indian Philosophy
Ṛ g Veda
Śatpatha Brāhma ṇa
Śāstrad īpik ā
Madhva, Sarvadarśanasa ṁgraha, (tr.) E. B. Cowell and
A. E. Gouch
xvii
A BBR EV I AT IONS
SK
SLV
Sourcebook
Studies in Philosophy
Śvet ā
TS
TSDNB
TU
TUBh
Ved ānta S āra
VP
VS
S āṁkhyak ārik ā
Ślokavārtika
A Sourcebook in Indian Philosophy, (eds.) Radhakrishnan
and Moore
Studies in Philosophy, (ed.) Gopinath Bhattacharyya
Śvet āśvatara Upani ṣad
Tarka-Sa ṃgraha of Anna ṃbha ṭṭa with D īpīka, (tr.)
Chandrodaya
Bhattacharyya
Tarka-Sa ṃgraha of Anna ṃbha ṭṭa with D īpīka, (tr.)
Yashwant Vasudev
Athalye
Taittir īya Upani ṣad
Taittir īya Upani ṣadbh āsya
Ved ānta S āra of Sadananda, (tr.) Swami Nikhilananda,
Advaita Ashrama
Ved ānta Paribh āṣā, (tr.) Swāmī Mādhavānanda,
Advaita Ashrama
Vai śe ṣikas ūtras of Ka ṇāda
xviii
Part I
INTRODUCTION
1
IN TRODUCTION
I Philosophy, Indian and Western: Preliminary
Considerations
In my classes on Indian philosophy in American universities, I am often asked: what is Indian philosophy, and how is it different from Western
philosophy? I fnd it diffcult to answer these questions because I am being
asked not only what philosophy is but also what makes Indian philosophy
“Indian.” In dealing with such general questions, one must always bear in
mind that the frequently used designation “Indian philosophy” is as much
a construction—concealing in its fold many internal distinctions—as is the
designation “Western philosophy.” Clearly, for instance, there are fundamental differences among Western philosophical schools and traditions, such
as the contemporary “analytic-continental” division among philosophers in
the tradition of Russell and Wittgenstein, on the one hand, and those in the
tradition of Kant and Hegel, on the other hand. Thus, the category names
“Indian” and “Western” do not actually bring together any common essence
among the systems of thinking they designate; rather, they indicate contingently related features of geographical origin.
It seems to me that history and geography are not of much help in this
search for essential features of a philosophical tradition. It is indeed anachronistic to give a geographical adjective to a mode of thinking, unless one agrees
with Nietzsche’s statement that Indian philosophy has something to do with
the Indian food and climate, and German Idealism with the German love
of beer. There must be some way of characterizing a philosophical tradition
other than identifying such contingent features as the geographical and historical milieu in which it was born; some way of identifying it by its concepts
and logic, its problems, its methods, and other features that are internal to the
tradition under consideration.
Prior to the Colonial period, philosophers in India did not concern
themselves with questions of difference between Indian and Western philosophy. Most of these philosophers wrote in Sanskrit, some in their local
3
I N T RODUCT ION
languages, and never sought to distinguish what they were doing from what
was being done outside the Pan-Indic culture. The task of distinguishing
Indian thought from the Western modes of thinking gradually became important to Indian philosophers, especially in the Colonial period. A lmost
every Indian philosopher worth the name, writing in English (because
that was the only Western language in which they wrote) expressed some
opinion about it, although these opinions differed considerably. It is worth
noting, however, that no Western philosopher—unless he/she was also an
Indologist, e.g., Paul Deussen (1845–1919), Halbfass (1940–2000), or had
acquired some acquaintance with Indian thought under the guidance of
an Indologist, e.g., Schopenhauer (1788–1860) and Hegel (1770–1831)—
thought it necessary to delimit what is called “Western philosophy” from
non-Western philosophies. It is difficult to ascertain the reason for this
asymmetry; perhaps, it is a political rather than a philosophical distinction.
Likewise, the Indian philosophers of the classical period, e.g., Śa ṁ kara
(788–820 CE), Vā caspati (900–980), or Raghun āth Śiroma ṇ i (1477–1557)
did not deem it necessary to distinguish their domain of thinking from Western
or Chinese thought. However, since the question has been raised, and since
philosophers like me—trained both in Western thought and traditional Indian
philosophy, writing on Indian philosophy and hoping to contribute to the development of Indian thought while maintaining her continuity with the tradition—
must provide a satisfactory answer. This predicament is not only mine but also
characterizes such thinkers as Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (1888–1975), Bimal
Matilal (1935–1991), and J. N. Mohanty (1928–present). It is incumbent on my
part to concede that, though reared in Western academia, I carry in my baggage the entire tradition of Indian thought.
There are two kinds of positions taken by my predecessors on the issue of
how Indian philosophy is different from Western philosophy. One position,
more prevalent in the generations of thinkers that ended with Radhakrishnan,
may be articulated thus: despite superficial similarities, Indian and Western
modes of thinking are fundamentally different; this difference may be expressed in such binary oppositions as intellectual v. intuitive, discursive or logical
v. spiritual, and theoretical v. practical. This contrastive view of Indian and Western
philosophy is rejected by such philosophers as Matilal and Mohanty, who tend
to see affinities between the Indian and the Western modes of thinking; they
argue that both traditions have developed their own logic, epistemology,
and metaphysics, and so the binary oppositions listed above fail to capture
the exact differences between the two traditions. These thinkers, especially
Matilal, under the influence of modern Western philosophy, overemphasize
the analytic nature of Indian philosophy. “Verification and rational procedure” argued Matilal “are as much part of Indian philosophical thinking as
they are in Western philosophical thinking.”1 Mohanty has made a similar
juxtaposition by selecting theories of consciousness in Indian philosophy and
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I N T RODUCT ION
comparing them to modern Western phenomenological theories of intentionality from Brentano, Husserl, and Sartre. I stand in continuity with the second
group of Indian thinkers and am greatly infuenced by their writings. Matilal
and Mohanty make a good case for bridging the distance between Indian and
Western philosophies.
My goal in this book, however, is not to bridge this distance, but rather to
focus on Indian thought as considered on its own terms, as it has presented
itself to participants in its discourse from ancient times until the beginning
of the Colonial period. The question is: How was the Indian world of thinking circumscribed? If we can give an adequate representation of this world
in the broadest outline, it will enable us to compare and contrast the pictures
that emerge. I will attempt a total circumspection of the structure of Indian
thought, in the hope that it will not only make differences between Indian
and Western philosophies evident, but also recognize affnities between the
two. However, in order to proceed further, it is imperative that we have some
understanding of the concept of “philosophy” in Western and Indian cultural
contexts.
II Philosophy and Western Cultural Context
Philosophy, it has been said, is its own frst problem, at least insofar as
self-defnition constitutes a problem. Probably, no single locution is likely to
win acceptance among all philosophers, since “philosophy” encompasses a
vast array of enterprises and modes of inquiry. Perhaps the safest course is to
approach the issue historically, frst noting what has been done in the name
of philosophy, and then ascertaining whether there can be a defnition that is
adequate to exhaust all these activities.
All human activities, philosophical or otherwise, take its distinctive shape
within a cultural setting and tends to bear the mark of that culture. In reviewing the concept and scope of Western philosophy, we see that it has changed
considerably over the 2,500 years of its existence. The word “philosophy”
comes from the Greek word philien, meaning “to love or desire” and from
sophia, meaning “wisdom,” so that etymologically, philosophy means “love of
wisdom.” Philosophy originally signifed any general practical concern, encompassing in its scope what are generally known today as the natural sciences.
As late as the nineteenth century, physics was still called natural philosophy.
Eventually, science broke away from philosophy and became an independent
discipline. The separation forced philosophers to redefne the nature, goals,
method, and boundaries of their own inquiry. Subsequently, in the nineteenth
and the twentieth century, the scope of philosophy broadened to include conceptual treatments of topics, such as violence, sex, drugs, abortion, and suicide. Obviously, philosophy cannot be the sum-total of all these concerns.
What, then, is common to all these philosophical investigations?
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I N T RODUCT ION
Branches of Philosophy
Metaphysics
Metaphysics is the philosophical investigation of the ultimate nature
of reality. It is the branch of philosophy that studies the nature of reality,
“being-as-such,” and the frst causes or principles of things, and includes such
abstract concepts as causality, identity and difference, space and time, mind and
matter, necessity and possibility, among others. It deals with such questions as:
1
2
3
Does the external world exist? What is the nature of the external
world?
Are mind and matter radically different?
Does God exist? What is God’s relationship to the world?
Epistemology
Epistemology, derived from the Greek epist ēm ē (“knowledge”) and logos
(“reason”) is the philosophical study of the nature, scope, and limits of
knowledge. Much debate in epistemology focuses on how knowledge
relates to such concepts as “truth,” “belief,” and “ justifcation.” It deals
with such questions as:
1
2
3
What are the sources of knowledge?
What is the limit and extent of knowledge?
How certain are we of things we claim to know?
Ethics
Ethics or moral philosophy is the study of moral principles; it systematizes,
defends, and attempts to establish rational grounds for good conduct. It
discusses such questions as:
1
2
3
What constitutes human happiness or well-being?
What makes an action right?
What is the foundation of moral principles? Are moral principles
universal?
One tradition within speculative philosophy has always focused its attention on
metaphysics. It considers that the goal of philosophy is to inquire into the nature of ultimate reality. The business of metaphysics, accordingly, is to answer
6
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the most fundamental questions possible about the universe, such as: What
is the nature, composition, function (if any), and meaning (if any) of the universe? And
who are we in all of this? Examples in early Western philosophy include Plato’s
theory that there is a realm of perfect Forms (Ideas) that not only exists but is
more real than the world of particulars (observable things), which is not a thesis to be demonstrated empirically. Similarly, speculation about the existence
of an immortal soul, of a creator God, and similar issues were all matters
of serious metaphysical discussion. Until recently, a majority of philosophers
believed that speculative theorizing was one of the most important tasks of a
philosopher.
Most philosophers today no longer believe that the role of philosophy is
to “discover” the real nature of the world, but that it is rather, frst and foremost, to clarify the basic concepts and propositions in and through which
philosophic inquiry proceeds. The most devastating attack on speculative
theorizing came from the logical positivists, who carried their ideas to Britain
and America in the late 1930s, declaring that in order for a statement to be
meaningful, it must be empirically verifable. Metaphysical statements about
God and soul, for example, cannot be verifed by empirical procedures: they
are quite literally, “nonsense.”
These positivist developments underwent considerable changes in the
early part of the twentieth century in the hands of such critical philosophers as G. E. Moore, Bertrand Russell, and Ludwig Wittgenstein. These
philosophers were only interested in the logical analysis of propositions,
concepts, terms, etc. Their contention was that the philosophy’s primary
function is to analyze statements, to identify their precise meaning, and to
study the nature of concepts as such to ensure that they are used correctly
and consistently. This view of philosophy as conceptual-linguistic analysis
has become widespread among philosophers, especially in Great Britain
and America, and is considered the sine qua non of any proper philosophical
enterprise.
Philosophy then, may be defned as a kind of conceptual analysis that attempts to clarify the meaning of words, ideas, and beliefs. But is philosophy
merely linguistic analysis? Can we really say that when a philosopher is engaged in linguistic analysis, he or she is not concerned about reality or value,
but simply with the meaning and clarifcation of terms? The answer is: “no.”
One philosopher, John Wild, attempts to answer such questions. In his
words:
Vision offers us an accurate analogy. It may be that I cannot see
except by the use of spectacles. But to take off one pair of spectacles
and to study them by another pair will not enable me to gain a panoramic view, it merely gives me another object to be ftted into such
7
I N T RODUCT ION
a view. To know something about the spectacles — their size, weight,
refraction, etc. — will not enable me to understand vision as such,
which also involves other factors. And even to know what vision is
in general will not enable me to see real objects. A blind man may
have such knowledge. Analytic philosophy, which surrenders objective insight to focus on the logical and linguistic tools of knowledge,
is like a man who becomes so interested in the crack and spots of dust
upon his glasses that he loses all interest in what he may actually see
through them.2
A too-exclusive preoccupation with language may lead one to lose sight of
what language is all about. Linguistic analysis is an important tool but it
should not—in fact, cannot—be expected to produce any meaningful results
about the nature of reality or value on its own, divorced from an analysis of
the world itself. The instrument of analysis is always, necessarily insuffcient
to provide the content of the analysis.
A philosopher’s quest is still defned by the questions that have been reiterated throughout history—What is truth? Does God exist? What is morality? Is my
life controlled by outside forces or do I have control over it? What is beauty? Are some
things clearly good and right, or do values differ from time to time and place to place?
Is there life after death? The attempt to answer these questions has given rise to
myriad and various forms of thought.
Philosophy is not only a search for meaning, but a search for truth about
reality and value. Philosophy, in its search for this truth, critically and rationally explicates the meaning and justifcation of beliefs, judgments, values, and
facts, as well as linguistic analysis of concepts. This defnition may appear
to be unduly stipulative, even arbitrary, in fact. Nonetheless it will provide a
frame of reference. It may be more fruitful to think of it as a heuristic device
that will enable us to move forward, comparing and contrasting the pictures
that emerge rather than as a formal completed defnition.
III Philosophy and Indian Cultural Context
The Indian philosophical tradition represents the accumulation of an enormous body of material refecting the philosophical activity of 2,500 years. It
goes back to the large, rich Vedic corpus, the earliest and the most basic texts
of Hinduism.3 The earliest extant texts of this corpus are the Vedas, known
as “śruti” (from “śru,” “to hear”) as they were transmitted orally from teacher
to disciple; they were not systematized as a collection until around 800–600
BCE. The Vedas do not refer to a particular book, but rather to a literary
corpus extending over 2,000 years. The Indian philosophical tradition, in its
rudiments, began in the hymns of the Ṛg Veda, the earliest of the four Vedas,
composed most probably around 2000 BCE.4
The rootedness of Indian philosophy in the Vedas has given rise to the
widespread belief—not only among educated Western intelligentsia but also
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I N T RODUCT ION
among Indian scholars—that Indian philosophy is indistinguishable from
the Hindu religion. The reason for this belief is obvious: it is possible that
whoever were the frst translators and interpreters of the Vedic literature saw
there what they found to be a religious point of view consisting of beliefs, rituals, and practices with an eschatological concern, and concluded that, as all
Indian philosophical thinking goes back to the Vedic roots, the entire Indian
philosophy must be religious in its motive, inspiration, and conceptualization.
However, to draw such a conclusion from the literary and philosophical evidence available is uncalled for. There are several mistakes in this argument; I
will address just two at this point.
1
2
The entire attempt to impose a Western concept of “religion” over the
Vedic thought is a mistake. It results from an unthinking application of the
Western word “religion” or its synonym, to the Vedic context. The word
“religion” being Western in origin, when applied to the Indian context, prejudges the issue. It covers up the distinctive character of the Vedic religion
and results in translating, better yet mistranslating, “śruti” as “revelation,”
which completely distorts the signifcance of the Vedic hymns, the Vedic
deities, and the entire worldview that articulates a certain relationship between human beings, nature, and the celestial beings in poetic forms.
The second mistake is the apparent assumption that the pre-philosophical
origins of a philosophical tradition somehow dictate the evolved character
of that tradition as it develops and matures. On this unfounded assumption, the conceptual and logical sophistication of the Indian philosophical
“schools” are totally overlooked either out of prejudice, or ignorance, or
both. It will become obvious, as we proceed in our investigation, that a
philosophical discourse is very different from a religious discourse.
Indian philosophy is rich and variegated. It is a multi-faceted tapestry and
cannot be identifed with any single one of its strands. Therefore, any simplifcation is an over-simplifcation. The problem is further compounded when we realize that in the Indian tradition there is no term corresponding directly to the
Western term “philosophy”; the Sanskrit term “darśana” or “seeing within” is
a rough approximation, lending itself to a variety of meanings not connoted by
its Western counterpart. For example, “seeing within” must not be understood
in a subjectivist sense (e.g., as if I were checking in with my body or emotions to
see how I feel or what I need in a given moment). It signifes a cognitive process
through which we engage our intellect to understand the world. Indian philosophy is concerned not only with the searching for knowledge of reality but also
with critically analyzing the data provided by perception.
Another term used to describe Indian philosophy is “ānvīk ṣik ī,” or “a critical
examination of the data provided by perception and scripture.”5 Inferential
reasoning involves critically analyzing not only observable empirical data but
also ideas—so that even the foundational texts of the Vedic tradition were
subject to rigorous analysis in the event of conficting evidence.
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Two Sanskrit Words Approximating the Meaning of
“Philosophy”
1
“Dar śana”
“Darśana,” derived from the Sanskrit root “dṛś,” means “to see” or
a “way of seeing.” “Seeing” as the end result of darśana is “seeing
within”—the Indian seer sees the truth and makes it a part of his
understanding.
2
“Ānvīk ṣik ī”
“Ānvīk ṣik ī ” is critical examination of the data provided by perception and scriptures. Such an examination encompasses sources and
objects of knowledge, validity and invalidity of arguments, determination of truths, etc.6
Darśana also connotes a “standpoint” or “perspective” (cf. diṭṭhi, the Pā li
word for “a point of view.”) It is in this second sense that Indians allowed
the possibility of more than one darśana. There are nine darśanas (schools or
viewpoints) of Indian philosophy: C ārvā ka, Jainism, Buddhism, M īmāṃsā,
Sāṃ khya, Yoga, Vaiśeṣika, Nyāya, and Vedānta.
Traditionally, these schools are grouped under two headings: n āstika, and
āstika, which in common parlance, signify “atheist” and “theist,” respectively.
The Manu states that a n āstika does not believe in the existence of life after
death, the existence of “the other world,” and the Vedic doctrines.7 Eventually, these Sanskrit terms came to signify those who deny the authority of the
Vedas and those who accept it respectively.
Classical Darsanas
(Reject and argue against the Vedic Canons)
Carvaka
Jainism
Buddhism
Darsanas Founded on Independent Grounds
Samkhya
Yoga
Nyaya
Astika Darsanas
(Do not Reject the Vedic Canons)
Darsanas Grounded on the Vedic Texts
Vaisesika
Darsana Interpreting the
Ritualistic Aspect, viz.
10
Darsana Interpreting the
Speculative Aspect, viz.
Vedanta
I N T RODUCT ION
It is customary to couple the six āstika darśanas in pairs: Sāṃ khya-Yoga,
Vaiśeṣika-Nyāya, Vedānta-M īmāṃsā; the former in each pair is viewed as
providing a theoretical framework and the latter primarily as a method of
physical and spiritual training. However, in viewing the evolution of these
schools such a coupling together does not make much sense, for example, it
is misleading to characterize the Nyāya school as a method of physical and
spiritual training. Additionally, the six āstika darśanas are usually referred to
as the six “orthodox schools” of Indian philosophy. Though I do not see any
harm in using the term “schools” for darśanas, I fnd the use of the term “orthodox” misleading. Daya Krishna, in his article “Three Myths about Indian
Philosophy,” discusses what he calls “the myth of the schools” as one of the
three myths.
He argues that the concepts of school and authority are closely connected in
Indian philosophy, and that “if the authority of the Vedas or the Upaniṣads or
the S ūtras is fnal, then what is presumed to be propounded in them as philosophy is also fnal. Thus, there arises the notion of a closed school of thought,
fnal and fnished, once and for all.”8
On Daya Krishna’s understanding of Indian philosophy—because there
is no possibility of innovation in a school of thought, due to its inextricable
relationship to authority—we must deny the concept of “schools.” He argues
that there is “no such thing as fnal, frozen positions which the term ‘school,’
in the context of Indian philosophy usually connote.”9 He further adds that
in the context of Indian darśanas, no distinction “is ever drawn between the
thought of an individual thinker and the thought of a school. A school is, in an
important sense, an abstraction.10 It does not contribute to the legitimacy of
Indian philosophy; Indian darśanas are rather “styles of thought.”11
Notwithstanding the fact that Daya Krishna was trying to correct the
“dead mummifed picture of Indian philosophy” and make it “contemporarily relevant,”12 it is not evident either that the concepts of “school” and “authority” are inextricably bound, nor that “school” is a mere abstraction.
It is indeed true that Indian philosophy has its origin in the Vedas. It is
also historically true that the Vedas contain the origins of all secular and
spiritual knowledge, and as such prompted respect. However, this obligation to respect the Vedas never constrained the adventure of thinking. Out
of this huge body of knowledge, there arose such conficting schools of Indian philosophy as the M ī māṃ s ā , S āṃ khya-Yoga, Ny āya-Vai śeṣika, and the
Ved ā nta. Neither the six āstika dar śanas nor their basic framework is found
in the Vedas. The existence of the nine dar śanas in the Indian tradition
provides an eloquent testimony to the fact that paying homage to Vedic
authority did not interfere with the freedom of investigation and rational
examination of the data given in experience. So, contrary to Daya Krishna’s
view, it hardly seems that respect for the authority of the Vedas constrained
the adventure of thinking.
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The above also explains why I fnd the persistent use of term “orthodox”
in connection with the āstika darśanas by scholars of Indian philosophy to be
problematic. “Orthodox” means “conforming to what is generally or traditionally accepted as right or true, established and approved.” Some of its
synonyms are: “conservative, traditional, observant, conformist,” and so
on. In common parlance, an orthodox group is one which follows age-old
customs, traditions, and has stayed away from innovations. Designating the
āstika darśanas as “orthodox schools” reinforces the erroneous belief that the
six darśanas dogmatically accept the authority of the Vedas.
The Vedic texts did open up a kind of discourse, a kind of questioning
that led to the formation and development of divergent Indian philosophical
darśanas. However, one should not miss the difference between the Vedic
discourse—in style, intent, questions, and answers—and the widely divergent
methods, concerns, and aims of the darśanas that developed subsequently. If
one has not read the texts of Śa ṁ kara, Vātsyāyana, Udayana, or Kumārila,
they would have no idea how distinct they are from the Vedic hymns and the
Upanisadic dialogues. Thus, given the connotation of the term, it is misleading to say that the six āstika darśanas are the six “orthodox” schools of Indian
philosophy.
A review of the basic presuppositions of Indian philosophy will provide a
framework and help us better understand the context in which the darśanas are
embedded, which I will discuss next.
IV Presuppositions of Indian Philosophy
I will discuss three presuppositions, which are: (1) karma and rebirth, (2) mok ṣa,
and (3) dharma. In the language of R. G. Collingwood, we may call them
“absolute presuppositions” and the rest of the philosophy may be regarded as
a rational and critical elaboration of these presuppositions.13 The resulting
philosophies do not justify these presuppositions; they rather draw out their
implications.
Karma and Rebirth
It is almost universally admitted that a common presupposition of Pan-Indic
thought is encapsulated in karma and rebirth. The word karma is derived from
the verbal root k ṛ, meaning “to act,” “to bring about,” “to do,” etc. Originally, karman referred to the correct performance of ritualistic activity; it was
believed that if a ritual is duly performed, nobody, not even divinities, could
stop the desired results. On the other hand, any mistake in the performance of
rituals, say, a word mispronounced, would give rise to undesired results. Thus,
a correct action was a right action and no moral value was attached to such
an action. Eventually, karma acquired broader meaning and came to signify
any correct action having ethical implications. Depending on the context, this
could mean (a) any act, irrespective of its nature; (b) a moral act, especially
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in the accepted ritualistic sense; or (c) accumulated results, the “unfructifed
fruits of all actions.” Underlying all of these senses is the idea that by doing
and acting, every individual creates something and subsequently, shapes his
destiny.
Karma
Karma literally means, “action” or “deed.”
It has been used in a variety of senses, to refer to
•
•
•
•
•
•
any action,
any intentional and voluntary action with moral import,
a specifcally ritualistic action,
a principle of justice,
an unseen causal connection between the moral and ritualistic
realms, and
the causal law applied to the moral realm that the consequences of
a person’s deeds infuence their subsequent lives
Karma is based on the single principle that no cause goes without producing its effects, and there is no effect that does not have an appropriate cause.
Nothing is arbitrary: some effects are visibly manifested in the immediate
future (i.e., in one’s present life) while others, affecting one’s future lives, are
not immediately apparent. Thus, freed from any theological understanding—
that is, independent of postulating a God or a supreme being as the creator
and destroyer of the world—karma posits a necessary relation between previous births, actions in this life, and future rebirths. Karma involves the belief
that differences in the fortunes and misfortunes of individual lives, to the extent they are not adequately explained by known circumstances in this life,
must be due to the unknown (adṛṣṭa) causes which can only be actions done
in their former lives. Since many of our actions seem to go unrewarded in the
present life, and many evil actions go unpunished, it seems reasonable to suppose that such consequences, if not fructifed in this life, will determine future
lives. From a psychological perspective, these karmas form a person’s character, making us who we are and shaping our habits. The concepts of karma and
rebirth are interlinked and together form a complex structure.
The doctrine of karma forms the basis of a plethora of ethical, metaphysical,
psychological, and religious Indian doctrines. Belief in karma is also shared
both by the Buddhist and the Jaina thinkers despite other differences in their
metaphysical and religious beliefs. It has even entered the American vocabulary and is expressed as “what goes around comes around.” Commonly stated
account of karma in terms of “as you sow so shall you reap” or “as you act, so
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you enjoy or suffer” are attempts to connect the underlying idea of karma to
our ordinary ethical and soteriological thinking, and precisely for this reason,
do not capture the underlying thought in its totality. A necessary sequence of
lives, worlds (insofar as each experiencer has his/her own world), destinies,
and redemptions is posited in order to eliminate all traces of contingency,
arbitrariness, or good/bad luck from the underlying order.
Karma denotes both (a) the law of causality and (b) the potential effcacy of
an action, i.e., the force generated by an action having the potency of bearing fruit. A distinction is made between the prārabdha karmas, potential effcacy that is in the process of being actualized (“bearing fruit like the present
body,”) and the an ārabdha karmas, which have not yet begun to bear fruit. A
distinction is also made between karmas accumulated from past lives (sañcita)
and those accumulating now (āgāmī ).
Karma is an absolute presupposition of Indian philosophy. It is the axiom
that causal order obtains within the world. This order is not assumed to be the
result of an omnibenevolent and omnipotent God willing things to be; it is independently assumed. From this shared premise, both theistic and atheistic/
non-theistic philosophies could develop. Religious thinkers formed concepts
of divinity that conformed to this principle of underlying order; others took
the axiom of causal order as the frst step in building a metaphysical or psychological picture of things.
Though we may understand the ideas of karma and rebirth, and, in some
way wish to accept them, our understanding and acceptance never rise to the
level of clarity we expect of our thoughts. In this context, Martin Heidegger’s
insight—that Being as distinguished from beings can never be brought to pure
presence or complete illumination, that all unconcealment goes with concealment, presence with absence, light with darkness—makes me wonder whether
it is possible to achieve clarity in the case of an absolute presupposition. All
our attempts to capture the ideas of karma and rebirth by employing the categories of causality, moral goodness, reward and punishment, or the logical
idea of God as the dispenser of justice, are faint attempts to illuminate karma
and rebirth. Such categories are drawn from and concern mundane experiences with which the thinker is familiar; karma and rebirth, however, concern
past, present, and future experiences.
Most Indian thinkers seek to establish karma as a logically necessary causal
order. The most familiar argument is that in the absence of such an order,
there would arise the twin fallacies (a) of phenomena which are not caused
and (b) of phenomena which do not produce any effect. This idea of necessary
causality requires, better yet, demands that every event has a cause and that
every event produces an effect. The idea of causal necessity applied here is
modeled after empirical and natural order. It is best exemplifed in scientifc
laws and philosophically captured in Kant’s Second Analogy of Experience.14
The resulting understanding of karma and rebirth in this framework becomes
that of a super-science, a science that not only allows us to comprehend the natural order and the human order, but also the order of all possible worlds, each
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world corresponding to one birth. However, the order that is being posited in
karma and rebirth is not a natural order, and what is called a “theory,” if it is
a theory, is neither a scientifc theory nor a super-science. Many Hindu and
the Buddhist enthusiasts wish to see karma and rebirth as a scientifc theory,15
although it does not share any features with a scientifc theory.
Then, there are those who regard karma and rebirth as a “convenient fction.”16 To be clear, this assertion implies that the entire pan-Indian culture,
both the Vedic and the Buddhist, is based upon a falsehood. Where must we
position ourselves as critics in order to hold such a view of these ultimate presuppositions? As thinkers, we have no ground to stand upon from which we
can pass such a judgment.
A plausible philosophical move would be to say that karma and rebirth encapsulate Indic peoples’ understanding of a transcendental ground of the human
life and the world. It is not an empirical or scientifc theory; it belongs to a
different order, neither natural nor supernatural (the supernatural being understood as another natural). The transcendental, usually construed as the domain
of subjectivity, selectively isolates an area of human experience and grounds the totality
of the empirical in it.
Many thinkers have rejected this conception of ground and prefer that the
ultimate ground be ontological, some principle of being. Karma and rebirth encapsulate a fundamental understanding of that ontological ground, of our
relationship to the world, which cannot be adequately accounted by a metaphysics of nature or a metaphysics of subjectivity. Both the Advaitins and the
Buddhists postulate beginning-less ignorance (avidyā) as the ground, arguing that
this principle accounts for our inescapable experience of obscurity, darkness,
and failure to completely understand this ontological ground. And yet, both
the Hindus and the Buddhist philosophers have sought to throw light on this
beginning-less ignorance in different ways, assuring us that though we do not
quite understand it, wise individuals do, because they have a direct experience
of this ontological ground.
It is worth noting that in Advaita Vedānta, this beginning-less ignorance is not
simply non-knowledge, i.e., not knowing; it is also a positive entity, the source
of all creativity, indeed, of the entire mundane world. In Indian thought,
(1) the truth of karma and rebirth, no matter how shielded from us, may be
realized; and (2) however inviolable it may be (such that even Gods cannot escape it), the hold of karma and rebirth can be broken by human beings through
the realization of mok ṣa.
Mok ṣa
Mok ṣa is the next absolute presupposition, held by every school with the exception of the Cārvāka school. It functions not as a determining ground but as the
telos beckoning humans to escape the ontological ground of karma and to come
home to their transcendental essence. Mok ṣa, derived from the Sanskrit root muc,
means “to release” or “to free.” Accordingly, it signifes “freedom,” “release,”
15
I N T RODUCT ION
i.e., freedom from bondage, freedom from contingency. Mok ṣa—notwithstanding the differences regarding its nature and the path that leads to it—means
spiritual freedom, freedom from the cycles of bondage, freedom from mundane
existence, and the realization of a state of bliss. It is the highest value—value in
its most perfect form—a state of excellence, the highest good, which cannot be
transcended, and when attained, leaves nothing else to be desired.
Mokṣa
“Mok ṣa” literally, “release” or “freedom” is the most important of the
four goals of life.17
In the soteriological sense,
•
•
•
it is release from the cycle of birth and death,
it is freedom from karma, and
it is freedom from suffering
In the epistemological sense,
•
•
•
it is freedom from ignorance,
it is highest knowledge, and
it is a state of positive bliss
From the Indian standpoint, all human beings, in fact all living beings, are
of dual nature; we are, in the words of Foucault, “empirical-transcendental
doublets.”18 In one respect, we are mundane being-in-the-world, and we transcend this worldly nature through a series of other grounded lives posited by
the principle of karma and rebirth. In another respect, we are pure, free, nonworldly beings, inserted into a mundane context that we aspire to transcend
altogether. These two transcendences are different. The frst, transcendence
from one worldly life to another, through the effcacy of the unspent traces
of the past events, we do not quite understand. We try to make it intelligible
in various ways, using such natural categories as necessity, such moral categories as just reward and punishment, and such theological categories as
divine goodness. The second, mok ṣa, is the transcendence of pure self from all
mundane existence. It is a possibility that stands before us on the horizon as
pure light, self-shining, and whose pure light seems to blind us, because we are
accustomed to seeing things in a mingling of light and darkness.
The conceptual problem really concerns how the empirical-transcendental
doublet is made possible. How do I, who is essentially pure freedom, become—
or appear to be—an empirical self? The origin of the empirical, its ontological
ground, is not in the transcendental, but rather in the dark ground of being, viz.,
in the order of karma and rebirth. Thus, we have an ultimate dualism between
16
I N T RODUCT ION
karma and rebirth and the transcendental, which is both my essence and serves
as the telos of my empirical being. The conceptual situation in which human existence is caught may be analogous to, but is not identical with, Kant’s dualism
between the unknown and the unknowable thing-in-itself.
All schools of Indian philosophy, with the exception of C ārvā ka, accept
mok ṣa. However, this does not mean that every school arrived at the same
conception of mok ṣa; each school developed its own idea and demonstrated
the possibility of mok ṣa so conceived. Anirmok ṣa (“impossibility of mok ṣa”) then
becomes a material or non-formal fallacy, which, for a philosophical position,
is more serious than a formal logical fallacy (hetvābh āsā), belonging to the domain of logical argumentation. Thus, we have a general conception of mok ṣa
as freedom or release, but the specifc understanding of mok ṣa in each system
is determined by the conceptual categories available in that system. In short,
the conception of mok ṣa as freedom serves as an ultimate presupposition and
the specifc understanding becomes a philosophical doctrine.
Dharma
So far, we have seen that there are two ultimate orders: the frst pointing backward to the order of karma and rebirth, and the second pointing forward to the
possibility of mok ṣa. Human life is not truly human if it is not conscious of these
two opposite directions. The third ultimate presupposition, dharma, promises
to mediate between these two; it announces itself as grounded in the tradition
handed over from the past and promises to help accomplish the goal sought
after in the future. The term dharma, derived from the Sanskrit root dhṛ, means
“to sustain,” “to support,” “to uphold,” “to nourish.” It is one of the most basic
and pervasive concepts, embracing a variety of related meanings.
Dharma
Dharma, a very complex concept, has been used in a variety of senses.
Some of these are given below.
Iterations of dharma as duty include—
•
•
•
•
normative duty (what one ought to do)
moral imperative
religious duty
social responsibility
Iterations of dharma as nature include—
•
•
essential attribute or innate characteristic of a thing (“the dharma of
water is to fow”)
essential foundation of all things, i.e., truth
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I N T RODUCT ION
Dharma as a system of rules governs every aspect of human life, including
our relationship with ourselves, to our families, to our communities, to the
state, and to the cosmos. Accordingly, we have the family-dharma, the royaldharma, the dharma pertaining to various stages of an individual’s life, the
caste-dharma, the ordinary dharma, etc. Besides the social differentiation of
dharma, there are also dharmas that cannot be brought under the social rubric,
e.g., an individual has a duty to himself (e.g., purity), to others irrespective of
var ṇa (e.g., charity), to Gods (e.g., sacrifce), and nature (e.g., protecting the
plants). These rules have different strengths, and hold good with differing
binding force, permitting exceptions at times, and, in their totality, form a
world by themselves. But how does one determine the essence of each domain? Who legislates them, if at all they are legislated? Alternately, do they
fow from the essential nature of each domain as it is the dharma of water is to
fow and fre to burn? It is here that philosophy can get down to work instead
of simply invoking a dharma śāstra (dharma-treatise). But the work is endless, and
dharmas provide a perpetual feld of philosophical research.
Now, with this enormously complex notion of dharma, it is inevitable that
there would be situations when the multitude of prescribed duties by which
we live our lives come into confict with each other. It is such conficts that
generate moral dilemmas and determine the tragedies of the Indian epics,
leading to a deeper spiritual vision and the need for mok ṣa to override what
seems to be the inviolable claims of dharma. The origin of dharma does not lie in
the command of God, but rather in the immemorial tradition and customary
usages. Dharma is the embodiment of truth in life, eternal, and uncreated, as is
life itself. The relation of dharma to God is thus somewhat nebulous and constitutes a perennial issue for commentary and disputation in Hindu literature
exemplifed, for instance, in the great Hindu epic, Mah ābh ārata.
Dharmas also promise consequences and goals to be reached in the future.
If you wish to attain such and such goal, then you should follow such and such
line of actions. This hypothetical imperative, to use Kantian language, always
refers to future goals to be reached. The conceptual world of dharma therefore
talks about the rules of actions received from the time immemorial, and ascending orders of human existence to be reached by performing these rules.
Human existence is thus caught up in the pursuit of goals in this world or in
the next, giving rise to theories of morality and theological doctrines. The
philosophical systems fnd here a fertile feld for conceptualization.
But dharma in the long run cannot bring human beings to mok ṣa which is
their constant secret aspiration. Dharma is still caught up in the order of karma
and rebirth and within that order promises humans better and happier lives.
Dharmas are only stepping stones, always pointing beyond themselves but
never reaching a resting place; as a means of transcendence, they remain ultimately world-bound, and each world, no matter how much happier and better
than the one before it, still exists within the clutches of the dark ontological
ground of karma and rebirth, and contains the same distant telos of mok ṣa on
18
I N T RODUCT ION
the horizon. It is this human situation which comprehends human’s pursuit of
knowledge, morality, and religion, but aiming at something still higher which
includes both human history as a development of the race and of the individual which take place as though a priori delimited by the ground of karma and
rebirth and the goal of freedom from it.
Understanding the human situation through the framework of karma and
rebirth—again, considered as a super-science that provide a consistent basis
for understanding orders, both observed and unobserved—also help us understand the human aims. We pursue knowledge, morality, and religious fulfllment, both individually and collectively, to forge a connection between the
grounded givenness of our situation and our desire to transcend it. In between
lies the space of thinking, of the philosophy of the darśanas.
V Concluding Reflections
The space—I described above in the last sentence as the space for thinking or
philosophy—was frst opened, disclosed, and given to the people of India by
what came to be known as the Vedas (śrutis). It is indeed true that the three
presuppositions discussed above go back to the śrutis for their origin, but to exactly understand the nature of this origin, one must clearly understand what is
meant by “opened up,” “disclosed,” or “given to the people.” Schleiermacher,
the German interpreter of sacred texts, held that hermeneutics is the art of
avoiding misinterpretations, and, in the case of the śrutis, misinterpretations
abound.19 To say that these texts “opened up for” or “disclosed to” the people
means that they gave people a new way of looking at things. The three presuppositions listed above defne a new way of looking at things.
How this disclosure took place cannot be made precise by using the model
of Moses receiving the Ten Commandments from God or Mohammed receiving the Qur’an from Allah. It was not a revelation in the standard Abrahamic
sense of the term. The Vedic texts stand today available to us in print, pure
temporality frozen into spatiality. Under such transformation, the safest way
to make sense of the apauru ṣeyatva (authorlessness) of the śrutis would be to
fnd a God-like author, thereby moving religion to the center of discourse.
This, however, was not the origin of śrutis; the śrutis were heard, retained in
memory, and transmitted from teachers to disciples. If we can capture this
experience of “pure hearing” and not freeze it into a static presence of written
texts, then we could perhaps have some inkling of the authorlessness of the
śrutis. They are not divine revelations; they have no divine origin; God did not
interrupt the course of history to reveal the Vedas.
Again, referencing Kant, I would say rather that “a light broke upon all
students of nature.”20 The heard texts, the words, the language, the poems,
the mantras were the only access to the origins of truth. Question after question
arose as to how, when, and by whom, this original truth was spoken, but no
answers to these questions were given. The spirit of inquiry and interrogation
19
I N T RODUCT ION
led, however, to the development of divergent paths of thought, articulated by
individual teachers to their students. The spoken words became frozen into
written texts, and metaphysical meanings were read into them. But the pure
inner speech that was heard, the voice (which today has come under severe
criticisms, e.g., by Derrida) was that of the śrutis. The śrutis thus opened up to
their hearers an infinite domain of human existence to be mastered and conceptualized, systematized, and expounded in the darśanas. The three absolute
presuppositions began functioning with the disclosure effected by the śrutis.
It is not my purpose in this introduction to survey the philosophies of India
in all their doctrinal differentiations and disputations, but to lay down and
circumscribe a boundary within which the philosophical schools (darśanas)
found their fields of work. Thinking did not open up its own field, but once
this field was opened up by the śrutis and circumscribed by the presuppositions
of karma and rebirth, mok ṣa, and dharma, philosophy could now explore the
nature of human existence that these presuppositions helped to delimit and
define. The C ārvā kas and the Ājīvikas, though materialists, earned their position in the spectrum of Indian philosophy by virtue of their sustained attempts
to deny karma and rebirth, mok ṣa, and dharma. It is important to keep in mind
that negation as well as affirmation can function equally well regarding the
same presuppositions.
Philosophies that do not have these presuppositions move in a different conceptual space defined by a different set of absolute presuppositions. If we forget these ultimate presuppositions and take out the locutions within different
philosophical systems, Eastern and Western, the ideas might sound very much
alike and may even translate into one another. However, what lies buried
beneath different philosophical systems would need to be uncovered if we are
not to be deceived by superficial similarities.
With this in mind, let us discuss the Vedas, the foundational texts of Indian
tradition.
Study Questions
1. Explain briefy the following concepts: “darśana,” “ānvīk ṣik ī,” and “Vedas.”
Why are these concepts important?
2. Name the three anti-Vedic schools of Indian philosophy. Why are they
classifed as anti-Vedic schools?
3. Name the six Vedic schools of Indian philosophy. Why are they classifed
as Vedic schools?
4. Explain the doctrine of karma. Does the doctrine appeal to you? If it
does, discuss three strongest objections against the doctrine, and why
those objections do not persuade you to reject the doctrine. If the doctrine does not appeal to you, discuss three strongest reasons for accepting
the doctrine, and why these reasons do not persuade you to accept the
doctrine.
20
I N T RODUCT ION
5. What is dharma? Explain the importance of dharma as one of the presuppositions of Indian philosophy.
6. Comment on the following passage:
But dharma in the long run cannot bring human beings to mok ṣa which
is their constant secret aspiration. Dharma is still caught up in the order
of karma and rebirth and within that order promises humans better and
happier lives. Dharmas are only stepping stones, always pointing beyond
themselves but never reaching a resting place; as a means of transcendence, they remain ultimately world-bound, and each world, no matter
how much happier and better than the one before it, still exists within the
clutches of the dark ontological ground of karma and rebirth, and contains
the same distant telos of mok ṣa on the horizon.
a.
b.
c.
What is mok ṣa?
Do you think dharma is simply a means to mok ṣa?
Explain the relationship between karma, dharma, and mok ṣa.
7. Defend or criticize the claim “I, who is essentially pure freedom, become—
or appears to be—an empirical self.”
8. Read the following paragraphs carefully and answer the questions
asked.
A Sample Case: An Attorney’s Appeal Based on the
Doctrine of Karma
Most of us are familiar with the Dr. Larry Nassar case and his treatment
of young athletes. He sexually assaulted them under the pretense of medical
treatment. Nassar pleaded guilty to three counts of criminal sexual conduct:
There were two counts of frst-degree involving girls between the ages of thirteen and ffteen, and one count of third-degree assault against a girl younger
than thirteen. He had already pleaded guilty to child porn possession in July
2017 and was sentenced to sixty years in federal prison for child pornography.
In November 2017, he pleaded guilty to sexual assault charges (CNN). However, for the sake of this discussion, let us assume that he pleaded Not Guilty,
and his attorney made the case as follows:
Nassar is not responsible for sexually assaulting young athletes, because his present actions were completely conditioned and determined by his previous karmas. Moral responsibility presupposes the
freedom of the will; Larry was not free to choose. Therefore, he is not
responsible for his actions.
A person is born with certain “sa ṃsk āras” (subliminal and latent
tendencies) and “vāsan ās” (desires). The confguration of the nature
and proportion of these tendencies and desires are determined by
his previous karmas. These tendencies and desires played an adverse
21
I N T RODUCT ION
role in the formation of Nassar’s habits, self-perception, and his interactions with others in society. The low sense of self, bad habits,
desires, and latent tendencies caused him to perform these horrifc
actions. Bad habits are hard to change. So, he is not to be blamed
for his actions.
Finally, according to the karma theory, he is not going to attain
mok ṣa in this life. He will go through the repeated rounds of birth and
death. The region, appearance, structure, and the form of his future
births will be determined by the quality of the actions performed
in this life. Given his present actions, he may be born as an insect,
an ant, or a cockroach in his future births. Could there be a greater
punishment than that? So, why to punish him now? Please set him
free.
Evaluate the attorney’s arguments. If there are weaknesses, explain exactly
what they are. If you fnd the argument to be a good one, think about potential challenges to each component of those arguments.
Here are some questions you might wish to consider in formulating your
response:
•
•
•
•
•
Is it accurate to say that, according to the doctrine of karma, a person is
“completely conditioned and determined by his previous deeds”?
Is determinism consistent with freedom?
Is it impossible for a person to change his nature?
What do we really mean when we say we are “free”?
When we say we are free, do we mean that we have unrestricted license
to do whatever we wish to do? Or is it the case that freedom does not
preclude self-determination, i.e., the choice of being determined by one’s
own self?
Suggested Readings
For karma, mok ṣa, and dharma, see J. A. B. van Buitenen, “Dharma and
Mok ṣa,” Philosophy East and West, Vol. 7, No. 1/2, 1957, pp. 33–47; Daniel
H. Ingalls, “Dharma and Mok ṣa,” Philosophy East and West, Vol. 7, No. 1/2,
1957, pp. 41–48; Rajendra Prasad, “The Concept of Mok ṣa,” Philosophy and
Phenomenological Research, Vol. 36, No. 4, March 1971, pp. 381–393; and
A. Chakrabarti, “Is Liberation (Mok ṣa) Pleasant?” Philosophy East and West,
Vol. 33, April 1983, pp. 167–182. Ronald Neufeldt’s Karma and Rebirth
(Albany: SUNY, 1986) is an excellent anthology on karma from different
perspectives.
Readers seeking an introduction to the nine schools of Indian philosophy will
fnd the following works useful: S. N. Dasgupta, A History of Indian Philosophy, 5 Vols. (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1975); S. Radhakrishnan and
22
I N T RODUCT ION
C.A. Moore (ed.), A Sourcebook in Indian Philosophy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 1973); S. C. Chatterjee and D. M. Datta, An Introduction
to Indian Philosophy (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2009); and M. Hiriyanna,
Outlines of Indian Philosophy (Bombay: George Allen and Unwin, 1973).
Advanced students may consult J. N. Mohanty, Classical Indian Philosophy
(Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefeld, 2000).
23
Part II
THE FOUNDATIONS
The Vedas
The Upaniṣads
2
THE BEGIN N INGS OF IN DI A N
PHILOSOPH Y
The Vedas
The Vedic Literature
Approximate Chronology of the Vedic Texts
Ṛ g Veda
1400 BCE
Yajur Veda
1400–1000 BCE
S āma Veda
1400–1000 BCE
Atharva Veda
1200 BCE
Brāhma ṇas
1000–800 BCE
Āra ṇyakas
800–600 BCE
Upaniṣads
600–500 BCE
The Sa ṃhitas, or more precisely, the four Vedas, viz., the Ṛg Veda, the
Yajur Veda, the S āma Veda, and the Atharva Veda, are in verse.
The expository literature includes the Brāhma ṇas, the Āra ṇyakas, and the
Upani ṣads.
Each of the Veda is further subdivided into sākh ās (branches): the
Brāhma ṇas, the Āra ṇyakas, and the Upani ṣads are linked to them as
appendices.
All the branches did not develop into a complete literature and all
recensions have not survived.
I Introduction
The Indian philosophical tradition in its rudiments began in the Vedas, the
earliest extant texts of the Hindus. The Vedas are not the name of a particular
book but the name of the literature, spanning over 2,000 years, which records
27
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
the religious and speculative thinking of the Hindus. These texts were collected
over several centuries by several generations of poets, philosophers, and brahmins
(priests). The Vedas were transmitted orally from teachers to disciples for a considerable period of time; they are called “śrutis” (from śru, “to hear”). Evidently
this designation says what it means: the Vedic texts were recited, remembered,
and orally transmitted from teachers to students for a long time. They were not
systematized as a collection until around 800 BCE. Thus, it is not surprising that
these texts vary signifcantly not only in form but also in content. Also, given
that they were not written down until much later, it is diffcult to correctly assess
the difference between the original form of the Vedas and what we fnd today.
The Vedas, the foundational texts of the Hindus, are written in the old
Sanskrit; their expressions are highly symbolic and not easily translatable.
Deriving from the verbal root √vid, meaning “to know,” the Vedas etymologically mean “knowledge” (Wissenschaft) and by implication “the sources of
knowledge.” The Vedic corpus may be regarded as a body of texts incorporating all knowledge, sacred as well as profane that the community at one time
possessed and prized.
These texts not only discuss the nature of the deities to be worshipped, the
rituals to be performed to please the deities and avoid their wrath, religious
hymns to be chanted in praise of deities, sacrifcial rituals to be performed,
but also such mundane topics as medicine, astronomy, agriculture, social
organization and practices, music, as well as such philosophical topics as
the origin of the world, the source of all things, and the nature of the relationship between the world and the One principle. When one takes all these
into account, one realizes it is not only Indian philosophy but also all the
subsequent developments of the science are grounded in the Vedas, making
it easier to understand why the Hindus consider them to have an unquestionable validity.
Sanskrit
Sanskrit is a language of the Vedic and Classical India. The earliest
form of the language is found in the Vedic Sa ṃhitas. Pāṇ ini in the fourth
century BCE in his A ṣṭādhyāyī (Book in Eight Chapters) analyzed and
standardized the Sanskrit language in 4,000 succinct rules, for the preservation of the Vedas. The language receives its name from this refnement “sa ṃsk ṛta,” meaning “perfected” or “refned.”
The tradition distinguishes śruti (what is heard) from sm ṛti (what is remembered). The Vedas are taken to be self-authenticating and in case of
confict between śruti and sm ṛti, śruti prevails. The Vedas are “apauru ṣeya,”
i.e., “not created by a human being”; they are eternal, authorless, without
28
THE BEGINNINGS OF INDIA N PHILOSOPHY
any beginning, which should not be taken to mean that the “śrutis” were
“revelations,” as many Indian and Western writers seem to think. For example, K. S. Murty, an eminent Indian scholar, titles one of his books Reason and Revelation in Indian Philosophy, and argues that the Vedic revelation
gives us the kind of knowledge “which is not got through perception and
inference—that the Veda is promulgated at the beginning of each worldcycle by Īśvara. This is the main type of revelation accepted by Śa ṃ kara,
and accordingly the greater part of this book will be concerned with the
Vedic revelation.”1
Another internationally known Indologist, W. Halbfass, in his book, India
and Europe, argues that the “Vedic revelation provides the most original, most
immediate documentation of religious experience.”2 Such translations hide a
deep prejudice stemming from the Judaic-Christian tradition, i.e., an attempt
that jeopardizes an authentic understanding not only of the Vedic worldview
but also of the entire Indian discourse.
Revelation
The Vedas are not god’s word; at no time did god interrupt the course
of history to reveal the Vedas. The sacred, even infallible, status of this
literature is not due to its revealed character (as is often misleadingly
attributed), but rather to the fact that they are the source of the Hindu
culture and civilization, and everything, including philosophy, begins
there.
The Ṛg Veda is the oldest of the four Vedas. The term “Ṛg” is derived from
the root √ṛc, which means “a hymn,” “to praise,” and “to shine,” and the
term “veda,” a cognate of the English term “wisdom,” gives the collection its
name: “the sacred wisdom consisting of the stanzas of praise.” Each verse of
the hymns of the Hot ṛ (an ancient order of Aryan priests) was called a “ṛc,”
or a “praise,” stanza. These hymns were probably recited by the Hot ṛ priests
who invoked Vedic divinities during the detailed and complicated ritualistic
sacrifces performed in those days. Given the importance of the Ṛg Veda, I will
return to it shortly.
The purpose of the Yajur and the S āma Veda, compiled after the Ṛg Veda, is
essentially liturgic. The Yajur may be regarded as the frst manual of the Vedic
rituals. It explains the duties of a priest responsible for the performance of a
sacrifce, formulas to be used in a sacrifce, preparation for the utensils used,
physical site and the altar where the ritual is performed, and the meaning and
the purpose of the sacrifce, etc.
The S āma Veda is a collection of melodies that were chanted at different
sacrifces, the Ṛg Vedic stanzas set to music.
29
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
In the Atharva Veda, we fnd the beginnings of Indian medicine. There
are hymns addressed to different powers for the sake of alleviating diseases,
death, etc. Additionally, this collection also contains many highly speculative hymns which, at times, are monotheistic and at other times, are monistic
in nature.
The general characterization of the four groups given above must not be
over emphasized, because the themes of different nature appear at places
where one would expect them to appear, but they also appear at places where
one would not expect them to appear.
To each of these Vedas were assigned a number of texts grouped together
as Upaniṣads, where philosophical questions in a more pointed sense arose
for the frst time. Traditionally, the entire Vedic corpus has been divided into
two parts: the portion concerned with actions (karma k āṇḍa) and the portion
concerned with knowledge ( jñ āna k āṇḍa).
Whereas the four Vedas are in verse, next body of texts, appearing as
the frst appendices, are known as the Brāhma ṇas (relating to brahmins or the
priests). These texts are commentaries on the rituals and are in prose. The
Brāhma ṇas are professional literature through which one priest speaks to another priest. The brahmin professionals devoted their entire lives to the performance of the rites, traveled from estate to estate to compete for various
positions patronized by kings. Rituals at times brought together brahmins
from different regions for weeks, for a year, leading to a never-ending discussion about the nature of sacrifces, guidance regarding the sacrifce to
be performed beftting the occasion, interpretations of rituals, utensils to be
used, establish links between the procedures involved in sacrifce and cosmos,
and equivalencies between universe and sacrifce. The purpose of sacrifce
was to please deities to receive boons; it was not guilt offerings or thanks
offerings which one fnds among the Hebrews. Sacrifce was a kind of divine
event. Rites sustain the universe, and there is a correspondence between the
microcosms and the macrocosms.
In the next body of texts, i.e., the Āra ṇyakas (“forest treatises”), now appearing as the appendices to the Brāhma ṇas, discuss some of the above concerns. Whereas the Brāhma ṇas were primarily concerned with the relationship
between the rite and the cosmos, the Āra ṇyakas (“forest treatises”) go a step
further and discuss the role and importance of the human being involved in
the sacrifce. We are reminded that the true wisdom consists not in the performance of the sacrifce, but rather in grasping the spiritual signifcance of the
reality that underlies these rites, thereby pointing to a three-way parallelism
between microcosms, the macrocosms, and the human person involved in the
rite. Thus, in the Āra ṇyakas, thought moved from thinking about rites to thinking about the human person involved in the sacrifce and how such sacrifces
help sustain the universe.
In order to make students conversant with the Vedic worldview, I will
frst discuss the Ṛg Vedic religion, and conclude with a discussion of Vedic
cosmology.
30
THE BEGINNINGS OF INDIA N PHILOSOPHY
II The Ṛg Vedic Religion
Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
Pluralities of deities are invoked in the Vedic hymns.
Nature and human behavior are not chaos; they are governed by a
basic law.
Rituals play an important role in the hymns.
Though the Vedic hymns invoke a plurality of deities, they cannot
be said to be polytheistic in the Homeric sense of the term.
In the later Ṛg-Vedic hymns, there is a tendency to move away from
a series of more or less separate deities or powers of nature, toward
the notion of a single principle.
The universe is derived from the various parts of the Puru ṣa, the
“Primeval Man.”
The Vedic Deities (Devas)
The Ṛg Veda contains 1,028 hymns organized in ten books. Interpretation and
reconstruction of the Ṛg Veda, like the other three Vedas, is fraught with peril.
In many places, a diffcult idea is expressed in a simple language; at other
places, a simple idea is obscured by a very diffcult language. It is replete with
half-formed myths, crude allegories, paradoxes, and tropes. These diffculties
notwithstanding, the collection remains the source of the later practices and
philosophies of the Hindus.
Deva
Deva (cognate with the Latin deus), derived from the noun div (sky), suggests a place of shining radiance. Though many devas are worshipped,
they are not gods.
In the Ṛg Vedic hymns a plurality of devas (the shining ones) or deities have
been addressed and invoked. From a functional point of view, these deities
may be grouped under three headings: (a) the deities of the natural world, e.g.,
Sū rya (Sun),3 Uṣas (dawn),4 Vāyu (wind),5 etc.; (b) the deities that represent
the principals of human relations, e.g., Indra6 and Varu ṇa;7 and c) the deities
of the ritual world, e.g., Agni (fre)8 and Soma (literally “sprinkle,” “distill,”
“extract”; the Moon deity in Hindu mythology).
a
The Vedic deities were often personifed natural forces. Many hymns
are addressed to the deities of the natural world, e.g., Sū rya (Sun), Uṣas
31
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
b
c
(dawn), Vāyu (wind), and so on, though the degree of personifcation varies signifcantly. The Vedic seers were interested in nature, in establishing
a correlation between human activities and nature. They read natural
phenomena in terms of their own behavior; a food meant the river was
angry, spring signifed peace and prosperity, and that the deities were
pleased. They projected their own emotions upon nature.
Indra is the most addressed deity in the Ṛg Veda; in fact, a quarter of the Ṛg
Veda is dedicated to him. His vajra (the thunderbolt), horses, and chariots
receive enough attention in the hymns. He drinks soma (the defed drink of
immortality) and bestows fertility upon women, at times by sleeping with
them. He is addressed at once as the war-deva and the weather-deva. However, his most famous deed is the unloosening of the water with his thunderbolt. He slew the demon Vṛ ta9 who prevented the monsoon from breaking.
Vṛ ta had dammed the water inside a mountain that resulted in a massive
drought and caused much human death and suffering. Indra is also represented as a benevolent power and a mediator. At times, he is referred to as
an asura (demon), although most of the hymns emphasize his heroic deeds.
Another deva, Varu ṇa, is most important from an ethical point of view;
he oversees moral behavior. Varu ṇa is a celestial deva par excellence, a universal monarch. Guilty human beings confess to Varu ṇa. He is an enemy
of falsehood and the punisher of sin. He resides in a thousand-column
golden mansion and surveys the deeds of human beings. His eye is the
Sun who is also his spy. The Sun sees everything and reports to Varu ṇa.
In addition to the Sun, Varu ṇa has a number of other spies whose sole
duty is to report on the evil doings of human beings. Varu ṇa is a just and
inscrutable deva who inspires the sense of guilt and the feeling of awe.
Human beings are destined to sin, and only Varu ṇa can release them of
their sins.
The Ṛg Vedic hymns allude to numerous complicated and detailed rituals in which the devas are invoked to attend the sacrifce. Thus, it is not
surprising that there is tremendous interest in Agni and Soma, the two
deities essentially associated with a variety of rituals. In fact, Agni is the
second most addressed deva in the Vedic hymns.
Agni is indispensable in the performance of sacrifces. He symbolizes the
renewal and interconnectedness of all things and events. On the one hand,
he is greater than the heaven and the earth, and on the other hand, he is
a householder—he is the household fre, which even today is the center of
domestic rituals. Fire serves as the medium and transforms the material gifts
of the sacrifce into the spiritual substance from which the deities draw their
strength and of which they can partake. In Agni, both the divine and the
human world coalesce. He also acts as the mediator between the deities and
human beings. The meeting point is the sacrifcial altar where Agni, as fre,
consumes the oblation in the name of the deities and in so doing transmits his
virtues to the human beings he represents.
32
THE BEGINNINGS OF INDIA N PHILOSOPHY
Soma is the divinized plant of immortality. The juice of soma plant is ritually extracted in the famous soma sacrifce, a very important feature of many
Vedic rituals. This juice—fltered in a woven sieve—is identifed with the
sky and the pouring of the juice, water, and milk is identifed with all sorts of
cosmic processes. In Hindu mythology, Soma10 represents the Moon deity; he
rides through the sky in a chariot drawn by white horses.
Many other deities have been mentioned in the Ṛg Veda: Mitrā (the deva of
compacts and vows and is associated with Vṛ ta), Viṣṇu (known for his three
strides that measured the universe), and Yama (the deva of death), to name only
a few. Surprisingly, the deities that became important in later Hinduism, e.g.,
Viṣṇu and Śiva, play insignifcant roles in the Ṛg Vedic hymns.
Is the Ṛg Vedic Religion Polytheistic?
Given that a plurality of divinities is addressed, invoked, and placated, it may
be argued that that the Vedic religion is polytheistic. For example, the Sanskrit commentary of Sāya ṇa11 takes the Vedic deities to be real gods with supernatural powers, and in the hymns these gods are praised through prayers
so that they may confer material and other worldly benefts on human beings
and communities. This understanding, which may be called both ritualistic
and polytheistic, has not only infuenced the way in which the Sanskrit Vedic
scholarship came to understand the Vedas, but has also exerted tremendous
infuence on the writings of both Indian and Western scholars.
A slightly modifed reading of Sāya ṇa’s interpretation is found in the chapter on Ṛg Veda in Radhakrishnan’s book on Indian Philosophy.12 Taking a developmental point of view, Radhakrishnan argues that (1) in the Vedic hymns
there is a transition from a naturalistic polytheism through henotheism to a
spiritualistic monism which we fnd in the Upaniṣads, and (2) from the religious attitude of prayer—meant to elicit benefts and avoid calamities—there
emerges a dominantly philosophical enquiry, an inquiry into the one being,
ekam sat, the brahman, subsequently identifed with the inner self or the ātman
in the Upaniṣads.
Ṛ g Vedic Religion may be called “polytheistic” in the standard sense of the
term, i.e., the worship of or belief in many divinities.13 However, Ṛg Vedic religion is different from the Greek polytheism. A careful reading of the hymns
reveals that the conceptual apparatus that goes with the Greek polytheism is
not found in the Ṛg Vedic hymns. In the Homeric epics, gods are fully personalized entities having a precise function and power, and there is an organized
system of gods with a clear ranking. In the Greek polytheism, many gods
are hierarchically arranged in a patriarchal family with Zeus as the head.
Their place in the hierarchy is determined by their relationship to Zeus; each
god has a clearly defned function and symbolism. There exist goddesses of
wisdom, of marriage, of sex, of beauty, of war, etc., and their power is limited insofar as they must answer to Zeus who has the power to modify the
results of their actions. Gods are fully personalized entities and are divided
33
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
in watertight compartments. The Vedic divinities, on the other hand, are not
fully personalized entities; they are not divided in watertight compartments.
In the Vedic pantheon, the organized system of devas with specifc power and
rank is not found. The Ṛg Vedic hymns extol a particular divinity and even exaggerate its importance at the expense of the other deities. They glorify devas
using the terms or epithets generally applicable to other devas (power, wisdom,
and brilliance) and often confer upon one deva mythical traits and actions that
characterize other devas. In these hymns the interconnections among deities
are glorifed, and their distinctions are implicitly rejected. For example, Indra
is assisted not only by the storm deva, but also by Viṣṇu in the breaking of the
monsoon. Indra was the recipient of the soma sacrifce aimed at promoting
rain and fertility. It was believed that the soma juice was highly intoxicating
and it inspired the devas to do good deeds. Indeed, it is the copious imbibing
of soma that gives Indra the power to overcome his enemies. As Indra assumes
a position of greater supremacy in the pantheon, Soma becomes associated
with his activities and at times praised as a mighty warrior. At other times,
Varu ṇa and Indra are portrayed in opposition to each other, but on still other
occasions, they complement each other. There is no counterpart of the Greek
Zeus in the Vedic hymns.
Philologist Max Müller argues that it is more accurate to describe the Vedic
religion as “kathenotheistic” rather than polytheistic. Kathenotheism is the worship of one deity or god without excluding the possible supremacy of another
deity. Kathenotheism (from the Greek kath’hena, “one by one”) refers to the worship of a succession of supreme gods, “one at a time.” It is the supremacy of
one deity or god without excluding the possible supremacy of another deity.14
The God of Sunday is supreme on Sunday and the God of Monday is supreme
on Monday. One deity is not supreme for a long time. One could say that it is
a kind of quasi-monotheism.
Sāya ṇa’s interpretation captures neither the original intent nor the spiritual
signifcance of the hymns. I am adopting here the Advaitic hermeneutic perspective rather than the literal meaning that Western Indologists uphold following literal translations.
Radhakrishnan’s reading is attractive insofar as it accommodates the Western ritualistic interpretation and synthesizes it with the traditional interpretation of Sāya ṇa. The Radhakrishnan reading, however, does not accurately
represent the Vedic worldview. Indeed, many devas are worshipped, but devas
are not gods.
Deva (cognate with Latin deus), derived from the noun div (sky), suggests a
place of shining radiance. To call “devas” “gods” is not appropriate. Īśvara
(God), a fully personalized concept, is not found in the Vedas, and the Vedic
concern with the cosmos must not be understood naturalistically, but in a
sense that is prior, not posterior, to the nature–spirit divide. One must not
lose sight of the fact that if it is naturalism, this naturalism is not materialism,
and the spiritualism that is achieved is not cosmic, which fnds a vibrant spirit
in natural forces and powers. Thus, we need to look upon the Upaniṣads not
34
THE BEGINNINGS OF INDIA N PHILOSOPHY
as a movement of thought beyond the Vedic religion, but as the ancient commentaries, that provide varied interpretations of the hymns. The best account
of the spiritualistic understanding of the Vedic deities is given in the third
interpretation.
Śr ī Aurobindo argues that given the Vedic etymologies, the Vedic deities or
rather their names, at the same time, have a set of different meanings which
confer on the stories of the sacrifces, at least three different meanings: the
external-ritualistic, the psychological, and the spiritual.15 He argues that such
names as “Agni,” “Indra,” “Varu ṇa,” “Mitra,” etc., have a host of interconnected meanings. The Vedic Sanskrit words, deriving from their verbal roots,
have multivalence of meanings. To impose a universal meaning on them is to
lose sight of this important multivalency. For example, the word “agni” means
both the “natural element fre,” “a supernatural deity” symbolized by fre,
and an “inner spiritual will” which aspires after the highest knowledge. All
these meanings stem from the multivocity of the verbal root (aj meaning to
“drive”) from which the word “agni” is derived.
That verbal roots have multivalence of meanings cannot be denied. If we
follow this line of interpretation, we can say that the Vedic thinking had not
yet clearly separated thought from poetry, nature for them was still spiritual,
and there was no Cartesian split between matter and mind. The Vedic rituals are social acts, rule-governed, and supposed to bring about social good.
They also symbolize deep spiritual action, discipline, yoga, penance, austerity,
intended to bring about transformation of the inner being. Thus, it would be
a serious mistake to think that the Vedic religion was at best polytheism and
at worst nature worship. The worship of devas was not simple nature worship;
it was a part of a complicated system of rituals which could only be performed
by priests.
Initially, the goal of rituals was to satisfy and please devas; however, eventually sacrifces became more detailed, complicated, and sacrifces became an
end in themselves. Perhaps, it is not an exaggeration to say that whereas the
Vedic hymns express an intuitive experience and appreciation of the world,
from the Upaniṣads begins a gradual emergence of the intellectual, better yet,
of clear philosophical thinking. It would be more appropriate to fnd in these
hymns a mode of thinking, a mode of experiencing the world that was prior to
religion and philosophy unprejudiced by the subsequent distinction between
nature and spirit.
In the later Ṛg Vedic hymns there is a tendency away from a series of more or
less separate deities toward the notion of a single principle. It is remarkable to
note that these texts do not end with a defnite answer; they raise many more
questions, and, at times end with such agnostic conclusion as “who knows,
perhaps, no one, not even devas.”16 They move between a wonderful poetic
response to nature and an inquisitive mind that asks questions without being
committed to any dogmatic answer. We fnd on the one hand, frst-rate poetry
and on the other hand, the beginnings of human questionings about the truth
of the world around us. If, as Heidegger often remarked, original thinking is
35
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
poetic and “thinking” (Denken) is also “thanking” (Danken),17 then the Vedic
hymns show the emergence of that original thinking, not yet frozen into conceptual abstractions.
The overall picture points to the sacredness of the manifest nature, the
recognition that behind the manifest nature there is an unmanifest spiritual
principle, and that the ideal life is to be in conformity to the deeper vision of
the unity of all things which, at the same time, preserves a stratifed and hierarchical, orderly nature of social organization. We also fnd in these hymns
indications of the beliefs in the imperishability of a soul and in the effcacy
of one’s actions across death and rebirth. In short, there were several central
philosophical concerns and questions that the Vedic seers were trying to come
to grips with. I will discuss some of these under two headings: (1) the Conception of the True order and the Essence of Humanity, and (2) Cosmology.
III Central Philosophical Concerns
The Conception of the True Order and the Essence
of Humanity
The Vedic seers held that the universe is governed by “order,” or “way” or
“truth,” called “ṛta,” an abstract principle that ensures justice and order in
the universe. No term in English really captures what is meant by this concept
in the Vedic context. Etymologically, “ṛta” is derived from the verbal root √ṛ,
meaning to “go,” “move,” etc.; it signifes “the course of things,” that which
enables the world to run smoothly. It is at once the ordered universe and the
order that pervades it. It represents the law, unity, and rightness that underlie
the orderliness of the universe.
Ṛta enables natural events to move rhythmically: days follow nights, there
is a succession of the seasons, the cycles of birth, growth, decay, and so on. Ṛta
provides balance, and guides the emergence, dissolution, and the reemergence
of the cosmic existence. It represents a powerful power that not only regulates
the physical but also the ethical world; it sustains and unites all beings. Not
only natural phenomena, but also truth and justice are subject to ṛta. Varu ṇa
is the custodian of ṛta, the Vedic counterpart of the later notion of dharma. It
is the moral law that regulates the conduct of human beings. When human
beings observe ṛta, there is peace and order. In social affairs, ṛta is propriety and makes possible harmonious actions among human beings. In human
speech, ṛta is truth. Eventually, satya as “agreement with reality” and anṛta as
“negation of ṛta” became confned to truth and falsity of speech respectively,
and appeared in moral contexts to represent virtue and vice respectively. In
human dealings, ṛta is justice, and in worship ṛta assures correct performance
of the ritual, which results in harmony between human beings and the deities,
human beings and nature, and among human beings in general. To sum up:
ṛta is the right course of things, the right structure of things. Going against
the structure would be anṛta. The idea permeating the Ṛg Veda is that nature
36
THE BEGINNINGS OF INDIA N PHILOSOPHY
in all its diversity and multiplicity is not chaos, but rather governed by a basic
cosmic law.
There are no hymns addressed to ṛta, though there are many references to it
emphasizing the natural, i.e., the way things are, and the moral, i.e., the way
they should be. Even the divinities derive their strength from ṛta, e.g., “from
fervor ṛta and truth were born”;18 “ṛta is the movement of the Sun,”19 and “ṛta
is also the way of Heaven and Earth”;20 “ṛta removes transgressions”;21 “ṛta is
the right path for humans.”22 In other words, the natural course is the proper
course; human beings should follow ṛta and avoid unṛta.
The later Vedic texts raise numerous philosophically important questions:
What is the essence of human beings? Who am I? What happens at death?
Does anything survive after death? Given that life ceases to exist when the
breath goes out, at many places, the essence of human beings is taken to be
breath, or an airy substance like wind. However, most discussions focus on ātman, which means “self,” used as a refexive pronoun, like the German sich.23
The immaterial ātman exists in the human body, constitutes its essence,24 and
survives death when everything is abstracted from the man.
On death, the ātman leaves the body and goes to heaven, the level above the
atmosphere. During the Vedic era, human beings prayed for a long earthly
life. Praying for a span of one hundred years was the norm. People generally
believed that the correct performance of rituals would ensure them a place in
the heaven. The Vedic seers believed in the three horizontal levels (triloka): the
earthly level, the atmospheric level (where the birds and god’s chariots few),
and svarga (the abode of the gods and the blessed dead ones).
Śatpatha Brāhma ṇa also reinforces the idea of the separation of the soul and
the body; at one place, it declares that those who do not perform sacrifces are
born, and at another place, assures us that the due performance of sacrifces
ensures material comforts in another world and that doers of bad deeds are
punished. Thus, though the discussions of the destiny of human beings are
scattered, there is no doubt that the principle of ṛta, and the ideas of reward
and punishment later evolved in the notions of dharma and karma, respectively,
two basic presuppositions of Indian philosophy discussed in the previous
chapter. It is not an exaggeration to say that a modern brahmin in his prayers
three times a day utters the same Vedic verses he did 3,000 years ago.
Cosmology
The questions regarding the world-breath corresponding to the life-breath
of the human being lead to several speculations regarding the source of the
world and the process of creation. Several questions were raised: What is the
source of things? What is the nature of that deeper principle which underlies
manifest nature? What is the relation between the One principle and the diversity of empirical phenomena?
Regarding the ultimate source of things, one fnds various speculations.
The Vedic divinities could not be said to be the source of the world because
37
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
they were associated with the natural world, for example, the deities of rain
and wind, residing in the atmospheric level; Soma on the earthly level; and
Agni on all three levels. Even the divinities that were not associated with the
natural world, e.g., Indra and Varu ṇa, were taken to reside in some spatial location or the other, and so they could not be said to be the source of the world
either. Thus, it is not surprising that in the later hymns we fnd a transition
from the personal to the impersonal power or principle to explain the origin
of things.
To explain the nature of the One and its relation to the empirical world and
the process of creation, I will focus on three hymns: Ṛg-Veda X.90 and 129,
and the Atharva Veda XIX.53.25
In X.90, we see the frst streak of monistic thought. The universe is derived
from the various parts of the Puru ṣa, the “Primeval Man.” Puru ṣa is at once
the entire existence and an androgynous being. It is the sacrifcial victim and
the deity of the sacrifce. In this hymn, the gods perform the sacrifce, the
Puru ṣa becomes the oblation, and from the dismemberment of the Puru ṣa, all
animals, the four castes, and the cosmic powers, e.g., the moon, the sun, the
wind, breath, etc., are created. The hymn expresses Puru ṣa as both, immanent and transcendent; immanent because it pervades the entire existence,
transcendent because it is not exhausted by the existence.
The hymn in no uncertain terms declares that the Puru ṣa precedes and
goes beyond the creation, which became very important for the later philosophical speculations in India. It gave rise to countless speculations and
served as the paradigm for many types of rites; for example, it is recited in
the rites performed after the birth of a son, in the ceremonies performed
when the foundation stone of a temple is laid, etc. Puru ṣa typifes the Hindu
cosmogonic divinity, e.g., Prajāpati (the lord of all creatures); it repeatedly appears in the Atharva Veda. There are various hymns addressed to the Support,
on which everything rests. The notion of Support resembles the Puru ṣa of the
Ṛ g-Veda.26
It should come as no surprise that the Vedic poet was intent on fnding an
answer to the question “what is it that is the warp and woof of everything
else?” The famous “Hymn of Creation” (X.129) articulates the Vedic seer’s
attempt to go beyond “being” and “non-being,” to a primordial being, their
unifying ground. The hymn opens in the time before creation, when there
was nothing: neither being (existent) nor non-being (non-existent), no midspace, no trace of air or heaven; even the moon and the sun did not exist so
that one could differentiate between the day and night, days and month. The
One, which was enveloped by emptiness, came into being by its own fervor,
desire (the primal seed of mind) arose giving rise to thought; thus, existence
somehow arose out of non-existence. At this juncture, the poet realizes that
he has gone too far because to claim that existence arises out of non-existence
goes against the verdict of experience. Thus, after presumably describing the
origin of the things, the last two verses ask whether anyone truly knows the
origin of the existents. Even the deities cannot answer this question, because
38
THE BEGINNINGS OF INDIA N PHILOSOPHY
they were created along with the world. So, the poet concludes that the origin
of the existents is inexplicable; it is an enigma, a riddle. It is worth noting
that creation in the Indian context is never creation ex nihilo; it signifes the
ordering of already existing matter into intelligible form. In other words, the
cosmos evolved out of its own substance.
The hymn from the Atharva Veda articulates Time as the ontological reality; it is the creator, preserver, and the destroyer of the universe. The Sanskrit term “k āla,” derived from the root √kal, means “to collect,” “to count.”
Time, in this hymn, collects or gathers past, present, and future. Time is compared to a perfectly trained horse upon which a jar flled with water to the
brim is placed; time runs like a horse without spilling even a single drop.
Everything—earth, heaven, Sun, wind, breath, etc.—originates in Time. It
is not an exaggeration to say that Time is both the Prajāpati and the brahman
of the Atharva Veda.27
Central Philosophical Questions
1
2
3
4
What is the nature of that deeper spiritual principle which underlies manifest nature?
What is the relation between that One principle and diversity of
empirical phenomena?
How do human actions that involve social duties, sacred ritualistic
performance, and the spiritual meditative practices affect the destiny of the individual soul?
We also fnd in these hymns, indications of the belief in the imperishability of a soul, and a belief in the effcacy of one’s actions across
death and rebirth.
Overall, there is recognition that behind the manifest nature there is an
unmanifest spiritual principle, and that the ideal life should be in conformity with the deeper vision of the unity of all things while at the same time
preserving a stratifed and hierarchical nature of social organization. Also, a
scattered discussion of such concepts as “reward and punishment,” “birth and
rebirth,” “identity and difference,” and “spirit and nature,” is found throughout the Vedic texts.
Thus, the dominant concepts that are handed to the philosophers are those
of karma and rebirth, identity and difference, spirit and nature. Around the
axis generated by these concepts revolves the destiny of Indian philosophy. In
the later Ṛg Vedic hymns, on the other hand, there is a tendency away from a
series of more or less separate deities or powers of nature, toward the notion
of a single principle. These ideas fnd a fuller exposition, development, and
conceptualization in the part of the Vedic corpus known as “Upaniṣads,” the
concluding portion of the Vedas.
39
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
Study Questions
1. What are the Vedas?
2. Discuss the śruti and the smṛti distinction. Are the Vedas revelations? Argue for or against, and give reasons for your position.
3. Identify the four Vedas. Discuss the key conceptions of these four Vedas.
4. Critically discuss the Hymn of Creation. Refect on the following: “X.129
represents one of the earliest impersonal conceptions of the world origin
in Indian thought.” Defend or criticize the claim.
5. Discuss the Central Philosophical Concerns of the Vedas.
6. Is the Ṛg Vedic Religion Polytheistic? Compare and contrast Greek and
Vedic polytheism. What is Kathenotheism? Is it accurate to say that the
Vedic religion is kathenotheistic? Defend your position with rational
arguments.
7. Summarize the key conceptions of the Ṛg-Veda X.90. Is it accurate to say:
“In X.90, we see the frst streak of monistic thought in India”? Argue pro
or con.
8. Explain the signifcance of the Atharva Veda XIX.53, the “Hymn of Time”
(XIX.53). Is it accurate to say that the Time is both the Prajāpati and the
brahman of the Atharva Veda? Argue pro or con.
Suggested Readings
For translations of the selected Ṛg Vedic hymns, insights into early Indian mythology, religion and culture, and fascinating discussions of the enduring
themes of creation, sacrifce, death, women, the sacred plant soma, and devas, see Wendy Doniger O’Flaherty, The Rig Veda: An Anthology (Harmondsworth: Penguin Classics, 1981); Raimundo Panikkar, The Vedic Experience,
Mantramañjari: An Anthology of the Vedas for Modern Man (Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1977); Frits Staal, Discovering the Vedas: Origins, Mantras, Rituals, Insights (New York: Penguin Books, 2008); and Franklin Edgerton, The
Beginnings of Indian Philosophy (London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1965).
40
3
THE UPA N IṢA DS
I Introduction
Anyone acquainted with the story of the unfolding of Indian philosophy is
well aware that the Upaniṣads, the foundational texts, are multifaceted, versatile, and address a plethora of logical, epistemological, grammatical, linguistic, hermeneutical, psychological, physiological, and phenomenological
theories. The Upaniṣads, formally part of the Vedas, set forth the nature of
the ultimate reality, self, foundation of the world, rebirth, and immortality, to
name only a few. They are generally taken to signify the esoteric teachings
imparted orally by the gurus (teachers) to their disciples. Such teachings were
not meant for common persons. The Upaniṣads categorically assert that “no
one who has not taken a vow think on this.”1 Eventually, such expressions as
“paramam guhyam” (the greatest secret), came to be used for the Upaniṣads.2
Thus, the Upaniṣads gradually came to signify the highest knowledge which
was received from the teacher, a sort of secret instruction, which could only be
imparted to those students who were qualifed to receive it.
The prefx “upa” denotes “nearness”; ni means “down,” or “totality”; and
sad “to sit,” “to attain,” or “to loosen.”3 Etymologically, a disciple humbly
approaches the teacher, to gain the highest knowledge of the totality to break
away from the bondage of the world. In this oral erudition, the guru and the
pupils engaged in discussions and debates that added to the erudition which
eventually became incorporated as part of the textual tradition.
First, a few remarks about the texts themselves. The principal Upaniṣads
were composed sometime between 600 and 300 BCE. There is no agreement about the number of the Upaniṣads. It is generally believed that there
are over 200 Upaniṣads; the tradition maintains that one hundred and eight
are extant. Of these, thirteen are said to be the major Upaniṣads; they are:
B ṛhad āra ṇyaka (BU), Ch āndog ya (CU), Taittr īyā (TU), Kau ṣītak ī, Aitreya, Kena,
Ka ṭha, Mu ṇḍaka (MU), Īśā, Śvet āśvatara (Śvet ā), Pra śna, Māṇḍukya (MAU), and
Maitr ī. Of these thirteen, CU and BU are the longest.
The order of the composition of the Upaniṣads and their antiquity is diffcult to ascertain; philological scholars have been trying different hypotheses
and applying different methods to determine their antiquity. Scholars usually
41
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
assign a relative chronology keeping in mind their literary form and language.
Given that they were composed by different individuals, living at different
times and in different parts of North India, their methods of presentation,
and the larger cultural contexts in which these teachings were inserted, were
different. Additionally, the individuals who put the Upaniṣads into the fnal
written form may have incorporated their own teachings in the Upaniṣads.
The Upaniṣads were frst put into written form in 1656 under the patronage of
Dara Shikoh, the son of Śhāh Jahān, the Emperor of Delhi; ffty Upaniṣads were
translated into Persian. In 1801–1802, Anquetil Duperron translated these texts
from Persian into Latin. Schopenhauer, after studying the Upaniṣads in Latin,
stated: “With the exception of the original text, it is the most proftable and sublime reading that is possible in this world; it has been the consolation of my life
and will be that of my death.”4 Since then, the Upaniṣads have been translated
into all the major languages of the world.
The Number and Chronology of the Upaniṣads
The earliest Upaniṣad are pre-Buddhist (800–600 BCE).
There are over 200 Upaniṣads, the traditional number is 108.
Of these, thirteen are said to be the major Upaniṣads.
The Early Upaniṣads are in Prose
Prose Upaniṣads
B ṛhad āra ṇyaka (BU)
Ch āndog ya (CU)
Taittr īyā (TU)
Kena
Kau ṣītak ī
Aitreya
The Later Upaniṣads are both in Verse and Prose.
Verse Upaniṣads
Ka ṭha
Mu ṇḍaka (MU)
Īśā
Śvet āśvatara (Śvet ā)
Prose Upaniṣads
Pra śna
Maitr ī
Māṇḍukya (MAU)
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T H E U PA N I Ṣ A D S
It is not easy to summarize the teachings of the Upaniṣads. These are openended texts and lend themselves to a variety of interpretations. Additionally,
these texts use symbols, narratives, metaphors, and concrete images to convey
their thoughts that further compound the interpretive problems. However,
there is a broad theme that runs through these texts and this theme has been
reiterated in many different ways using different paradigms. Each Upaniṣadic
teaching stresses the coherence and fnal unity of all things. To that end, the
Upaniṣads identify a single fundamental principle which underlies everything
and explicates everything. Behind the spatial and temporal fux, there is a
subtle partless, timeless, unchanging reality, called “brahman.” This fundamental principle is also the core of each individual and this core has been designated “ātman,” the “self,” the life-force independent of physical body. The
Upaniṣads use different paradigms to explain the brahman and the ātman and
their relationship.5
Etymologically the word “brahman” is derived the verbal root bṛh, meaning,
“to grow,” or “the great”; thus, the word “brahman” came to mean “the greatest” and “the root of all things”; “ātman” meant “breath,” and came to signify
the essence of the individual person. The central teaching of the Upaniṣads
revolves around the thesis that the brahman and the ātman are identical. To the
Upaniṣadic seers the ātman and the brahman signify the same reality one within
and the other without. I will begin with a discussion of the brahman.
II The Brahman
We know that toward the end of the Ṛg Veda there was a search for the One, the
abiding, the Supreme Being or principle. Many questions about the origin and
the nature of the Supreme Being were raised. It was asked: Does being emerge
from non-being or from the prior being? The former alternative was set aside as
absurd and the latter was not quite rejected but was seen as leading to further
questions about the origin of being. If one being lies at the beginning, then we
need to know who or what that being is. The seers concluded that this power or
principle, the unitary, undifferentiated principle of all beings that lies behind
the world to make the world explicable for sure is not the God of religion. This
most perfect being, the greatest, from which all things arise and into which
they all return, was given a new designation, and it was called “brahman.”
In the Vedic hymns the term “brahman,” refers to the power contained in
the words recited as well as to the mysterious power present in the utterances
of the Vedic hymns. The primary goal in the Vedas was to search for the
power connecting the microcosm with the macrocosm, though the idea of
the brahman as the ground of all things was not entirely absent. “The notion
of the brahman as the sacred power within a priest may have contributed to
an identifcation of the brahman with the inner spirit or the ātman. This transformation of a much older notion into a discursively idealized philosophical
concept resembles the way the concept of ‘logos’ was transformed into ‘logic,’
‘Vernunft,’ and ‘language.’”6
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
The fundamental principle called “brahman” is the foundation of all
existence.
It is the cause of the origination, sustenance, and destruction of the
world.
This fundamental principle is also the core of each individual and
as the core it has been called “ātman,” the “self,” the life-force, independent of physical body.
Ātman is brahman; the ātman and the brahman signify the same reality,
one within and the other without.
The world is a moral stage where one gets what one deserves.
Avidyā (ignorance) is the cause of bondage and preserves the cycle of
transmigration (sa ṃsarā).
There is a path that leads to realizing the brahman.
Knowledge, not rites, can get one release from re-death,
transmigration.
Mok ṣa is the supreme goal of life.
The word “brahman,” though found in the Vedas, came to prominence
in the Upani ṣ ads. What is brahman?7 This fundamental question was formulated in different ways: What is the One being that underlies many
beings? What is that by knowing which all else becomes known? 8 What is
that by knowing which one overcomes suffering? What is that from which
everything arises? 9 There is also the standard metaphysical enquiry: What
was there at the beginning? What is that from which all things arise and
into which they all enter after dissolution? The answer in all cases was
“brahman.”
The Vedic sense of power continues in the Upaniṣads: Ka ṭha Upani ṣad, for
example, states that the various devas carry out their respective jobs because
of the fear of the brahman;10 Kena Upani ṣad informs us that the various devas have no power outside the power of the brahman, etc.11 The brahman of
the Upani ṣads, however, is much more than a power; it is the cause of the
origination, sustenance, and destruction of the world.12 In the BU, when
Yājñavalkya is questioned about the number of gods, he initially says that
3,306 gods were simply manifestations of thirty-three gods, but he successively reduces the number to six, three, two and a half, and fnally, to one.
This god is none other than the brahman, and all other gods of the Vedas,
the senses, and the mind are said to be the various powers of the brahman.13
This brahman is not only the source of everything, but also the core of each
individual being called “ātman.”
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T H E U PA N I Ṣ A D S
In MU, Śaunaka (a householder), with great deal of respect and humility,
asks Angirā (a wise man): what is that by knowing which all else becomes
known?14 The text that immediately follows does not answer this question
but rather seems to move on to other matters including the classifcation of
knowledge into higher and lower15 and the order of creation (or emanation)
of the world by (or from) the brahman. MU concludes with the statement: “all
this is the brahman,” that “the brahman is this one world; it is the greatest.”16 It
appears as if with the affrmation that the brahman is everything, it follows that
to know the brahman is to know everything.
But what is the nature of the brahman apart from its being everywhere and
everything? Bh ṛgu asks this question to his wise father Varu ṇa.17 Varu ṇa informs his son that the brahman is that from which things are born, in which
they live after being born, and into which they return upon departing.18 Bh ṛgu
leaves in his quest for the real. He initially thinks that the brahman is food.19 All
beings arise from food, after being born live in it, and return to it at the end.
This is the frst answer. If this is so, then one should increase food. Further
refections reveal to him that the brahman is neither food, nor vital breath, nor
manas, nor intellectual awareness; it is bliss (ānanda).20 All beings arise out of
bliss, continue to live in bliss, and return at the end into bliss.
The entire Īśā Upani ṣad uses the paradigm of paradox and antinomies to explain the nature of the brahman. For example, whereas one verse describes the
One, the essence of everything, as “unmoving, yet swifter than the mind,”21
the next verse articulates the brahman as “moving and not moving,” “far and
near,” “inside” and “outside” this world.22 Ka ṭha reiterates that the brahman is
subtler than the subtle, greater than the great, and seated at one place, it travels far; though asleep, it wanders around; it is present as bodiless in all bodies,
present as eternal in all non-eternal things.23 The Śvet ā makes the same point
when it asserts that the brahman is smaller than the smallest, and greater than
the greatest.24
One cannot but ask how to interpret these patent self-contradictory statements? Clearly, if they are literally true, then our logic fails. It is more plausible to suggest that our ordinary categories (space, time, motion, rest, one,
and many, etc.) do not apply to the brahman, since application of these categories generates contradictions. The brahman is all-encompassing, nothing is
excluded from it. It is unmoving insofar as it is eternal; it is swifter than the
mind because it is inconceivable. The brahman signifes the totality of things; it
is both the unmanifested beyond and manifest phenomena, implying it is both
the one and the many.
In another dialogue, which occurs in the BU, there is a clear break from
the ritualistic tradition of identifying the brahman with the self as residing in
various deities. The text occurs in the course of a conversation between Bā lā ki
(a brahmin) and the King of K āśī, Ajātaśatru.25 In this dialogue, Bā lā ki, a brahmin, successively argues that the brahman is the person in the sun, in the moon,
in the lightening in the sky, in the air, and in the fre. The King rejects all
these accounts. I presume that these answers prevailed among brahmins in the
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
ritualistic tradition. The King then takes Bā lā ki by his hands to a person who
was fast asleep, and asks: “Where does the person inside this man go when he
is asleep, when he wakes up wherefrom does, he return? Where is he, what is
he doing, when the person is asleep but dreaming?” The King fnally informs
Bā lā ki that during sleep when the senses are restrained, the empirical person
rests in the space within the heart. In dreams, the mind and the senses are not
restrained and a person is able to move as he pleases, he becomes a King or a
brahmin as it were, so to speak. In deep sleep, however, a person knows nothing; in this state, one rests like a youth or a King or a brahmin who has reached
the maximum of bliss.26 The different centers of life are there, but their truth
is the ātman, the truth of truths.27
It is quite clear from the above conversations that the Upaniṣadic seers reject
attempts to identify the highest being with any one natural or naturalistically
identifable entity as satisfying the description and, in so doing, set aside all
objective and cosmological thinking about the brahman. The answers generally
end up with the affrmation that the brahman is none other than the inner self
of all beings, especially of humans, called “ātman.” Thus, a turn from the cosmological to the psychological mode is affected. However, one is still not clear
about the precise nature of the innermost essence of human beings, the ātman.
Let us discuss what the Upaniṣadic seers have to say about this essence.
III The Ātman
Many Upaniṣads analyze the states of consciousness (waking, dreaming, and
dreamless sleep) to arrive at the knowledge of the ātman. Among the paradigms used, the paradigm of hierarchy, in which one moves from the grossest
to the subtlest, explains the nature of the ātman clearly. The most succinct,
systematic, and formal analysis of the states of consciousness occurs in MAU;
however, the two earliest and signifcant precursors to the MAU’s analysis are
found in BU and CU.
In BU, the analysis of the states of consciousness occurs twice. Leaving
aside the Ajātaśatru and Bā lā ki dialogue discussed above, there is a conversation between the Sage Yājñavalkya28 and the King Janaka, in which the
King desires to know the source of illumination that makes it possible for
human beings to function in this world. Yājñavalkya successively informs the
King that it is the light of the Sun, of the moon, of the fre, and of the speech.
The King is not satisfed with these answers and rejects them one by one.
Yājñavalkya then goes on to describe the three states of consciousness: the
waking, the dreaming, and the dreamless sleep. In the waking state a person
moves and functions on account of external physical light, but in the dream
state a person passes from dream consciousness to waking consciousness and
then returns to dream consciousness like a fsh swimming from one bank of
the river to another. In deep sleep, however, there are no dreams, no desires,
and no pleasure; the self in this state is free from pain, does not lack anything,
does not know anything; there are no desires, no dreams.29 The self sees by
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T H E U PA N I Ṣ A D S
its own light,30 and it is the ultimate seer; there is no other for the self to see.
There is a perfect quietude (samprasanna), and there is nothing wanting or lacking; it is bliss. The self is its own light;31 it is self-effulgent and self-luminous.32
In this state, though the self does not see with the eyes; it is still the seer. The
character of seeing is intrinsic to the self; the self can never lose this characteristic just as fre cannot lose the characteristic of burning.
Indra, Virocana, and Prajāpati dialogue in the CU sheds further light on
the nature of the ātman. It states that “pleasures and pain do not touch the
bodiless self.”33 Indra representing the gods and Virocana representing the
demons, after undergoing the necessary preparations with austerity and penance, go to Prajāpati and ask him to instruct them about the knowledge of the
immortal self,34 which is free from sin, old age, death, hunger, thirst, etc., and
after knowing which one is not afraid of anything. Prajāpati asks them to wear
their best clothes and jewelry and look into a pool of water, which refects their
adorned images. Prajāpati tells them that the true self is nothing but the self as
seen in a refection: that the self is the same as the body. Virocana leaves with
the mistaken notion that the ātman is the same as the body, and informs the
demons accordingly. Indra, however, is not satisfed and returns to Prajāpati
for further instructions. He rejects Indra’s subsequent answers that the ātman
is the self as seen in the dream and the dreamless states. Finally, Prajāpati
reveals to Indra the true nature of the self that, as the support of the body, it is
unchangeable essence of the empirical self. It is the highest light (parama jyotiḥ),
the light of lights.
The above analyses of the states of consciousness found in BU and CU
inform us that the self is at once beyond the three states (the waking, the
dreaming, and the dreamless sleep) and also endures identically through them
all. This self is experienced not in the deep sleep state but in the fourth, the
transcendental state. MAU calls this state “tur īya.”35 At the outset, MAU declares that the self has four feet (or quarters). The waking state is said to be
outward-directed; it is conscious of external objects.36 In this state, consciousness is tied to external objects. In the language of phenomenology, its intentionality is outward-directed. In the dreaming state, the self is inward-directed.37
There are no outer objects, but inner objects produced by inner desires and
impressions are there. Intentionality is still there, but the intentional objects
are inner. In the deep sleep state, however, the experiences that characterize waking and dreaming experiences disappear.38 Self in this state is pure
consciousness. Since there is no individuated, object-directed consciousness,
the pure consciousness in this state, is “consciousness enmassed or densely
packed” (“vijñ ānaghana eva”), into which all objects and object-consciousness
are dissolved. Finally, the fourth state is described as “the lord of all” (not in
the sense of god), but as the truth of all, as that which underlies all others and
comprehends them within it. It is called luminous because it has for its object
only consciousness that is the light itself. It enjoys consciousness in itself unrelated to any objects whatsoever. It is also called the source of all, the inner
controller, the beginning and the end of all objects—the real self or ātman.
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
In refecting on the teachings of the sages discussed above, one notices differences; different sages use different starting points and emphasize different
facets to explain the nature of the ātman. Whereas Yājñavalkya and Prajāpati
begin with an analysis of the states of experience, Uddā laka in CU begins with
sat or being. Yājñavalkya and King Janaka dialogue begins with the King’s
question: “of what light is this puru ṣa?” After a series of answers, Yājñavalkya
fnally informs the King: “The self is indeed his light; with the self as light,
he sits, runs around, does his work and returns.”39 It is important to note that
the above reply is given in response to the question “what light does a person
here have?” “Light” in this context does not mean simply consciousness and
its conditions in an abstract sense, but also that which helps one to sit, walk,
work, and return. It is self-effulgent and eternal.
In CU, when Indra and Virocana approach Prajāpati for the knowledge of
the immortal self, Prajāpati employs a kind of physico-psychological method
to progressively unfold the essence of ātman.40 Indra and Virocana desire to
know the self that is free from sin, old age, death, hunger, thirst, etc. Finally,
Prajāpati reveals to Indra the true nature of the self—the self is immortal,
the body is destructible: the body is but the abode of the immortal self. The
self is progressively identifed with the bodily self, the dreaming self, and self
of dreamless sleep, until fnally, it is declared to be that which is not affected
by the changing modes. It is that which is present in all three states. It is not
Yājñavalkya’s or Ajātaśatru’s maximum bliss.
There are at least two ways of construing the doctrine of the four states of
consciousness. The frst three may be regarded as empirical pointers to the
fourth, the transcendent. Alternately, the fourth may be regarded as what
comprehends and makes possible the other three. The frst is suggested in
BU and CU, and the second in MAU. Irrespective of whether one explicitly
admits the fourth state, the point that is being made is as follows: in what
lies beyond the three states, the self becomes non-dual; it becomes one with
the brahman. Thus, it is not surprising that at many places in the Upanisads,
the two terms the “brahman” and the “ātman” are used synonymously. The
CU asks: “What is ātman? What is brahman?”41 When the inquiry pertains
to the source of the universe, the word “ātman” is used, and in other cases,
when the inquiry is regarding the true self of a human being the word “brahman” is used. For example, in the dialogue between B ā l ā ki and Ajāta śatru
discussed above, the conversation begins with the brahman but ends with
the ātman as the world-soul from which gods, divinities, and all beings are
derived.
IV The Brahman and the Ātman
The Four Great Upaniṣadic sayings, viz., tat tvam asi, “you are that,”42 prajñ āna ṃ brahma, “brahma is intelligence,”43 aha ṃ brahm āsmi, “I am brahma,”44
“ayam ātm ā brahma,” and “this ātm ā is brahma,”45 have generally been regarded
as expressing the quintessence of the Upaniṣads. These Sayings in different
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T H E U PA N I Ṣ A D S
ways reiterate that the brahman, the frst principle, is discovered within the ātman, or conversely, the ātman, the essence of the individual self, lies in the frst
principle, the brahman, the root of all existence.
Here, I will focus on only one of these four, viz., “tat tvam asi,” which contains one of the clearest discussions of the identity thesis. The dialogue occurs
in CU,46 between Śvetaketu and Uddā laka. In this conversation, Uddā laka
identifes the being (sat), the ground of all existence, and the source of all
human beings, with the self of Śvetaketu. This identity thesis has been repeated nine times in this dialogue. To give my readers a favor of the style
and content, I have translated a portion of the conversation in the Appendix
A of this work.
The context is as follows: Udd ā laka sends his son Śvetaketu to study with
a teacher. Śvetaketu studies with the teacher for twelve years and returns
home very proud of his knowledge and learning. Noticing his son’s arrogance, Udd ā laka asks his son: “Do you understand the implications of that
teaching by which the unheard becomes heard, the unperceived becomes
perceived, and the unknown becomes known?” Śvetaketu confesses that he
does not know the answer. Using the examples of things made of clay and
gold, Udd ā laka explains the identity thesis to his son: knowing a lump of
clay means knowing all things made of clay, because things made of clay
differ only in form, the essence is the clay; similarly, knowing a nugget of
gold means knowing all things made of gold, because things made of gold
differ only in form, the essence is the gold. Likewise, the self of Śvetaketu is
not different from the being or the essence, the ground of the entire existence. Śvetaketu did not quite understand what his father was trying to tell
him, and so he asks his father for further instruction. Udd ā laka states that in
the beginning, there was only being, and that being had a desire to become
many. Thus, he projected the universe out of himself, and after projecting
the universe entered into every being. That being alone is the essence of
all things; all beings have this essence as their support.47 Śvetaketu did not
quite understand what his father was trying to teach him, so he again requests for further instruction. Udd ā laka asks Śvetaketu to bring a fruit from
the nyagrodha tree and instructs him to cut it open. Śvetaketu does so and
fnds seeds in the fruit; but he does not fnd anything in the seeds. The father explains to the son that the entire tree comes from the invisible essence
that exists within the seeds. He says: “Believe me my child, that which is the
subtle essence, this whole world has that for its self. That is the true self. You
are that, Śvetaketu.”48 This being, the source of everything, is the self of
Śvetaketu, which is not different from the ātman or consciousness. This pure
consciousness, the being that is the ground of all existence, also underlies
empirical consciousness.
The thesis of the identity of the ātman and the brahman has been an infuential landmark in the history of Indian thought. Two different concepts, two
different goals, two objects of inquiry are pursued, and, in the fnal analysis,
are found to be the same. Perhaps, the inquiry regarding the brahman is more
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
connected with the Vedic discourses: What is that One being which is called
by different names? What is that ultimate stuff or power which is at the root of
all things? The Upaniṣads pursue the Vedic question and reject such answers
as that the brahman is the primal fire, water, the sun in the heaven, etc. Regarding the ātman such answers as that it is body, or the life-principle, or the manas,
or the buddhi were rejected. Finally, the ātman is understood as the indwelling
spirit in all things which is none other than the brahman.
The different texts and teachers emphasize different aspects of this identity. Many texts in the Upani ṣads proceed step-by-step ascending from
co-relation to fnal identity. Thus, to the idea of the ātman as body, there
corresponds the concept of “brahman” as material nature. To the concept
of the “ātman” as the life-principle within, there corresponds the concept
of the “brahman” as indwelling life-principle within all beings. While there
is such a correlation, irrespective of how one understands the nature of the
individual self and the nature of cosmic reality, the gap between them is
eventually closed, and one passes from co-relation to identity when both
terms are understood in their true nature. Thus, with regard to both, the
ātman and the brahman, there are varieties of discourses some affrming the
fnal truth with regard to each, while others exhibiting a graded movement
as in the doctrine of the fve sheaths (ko śas), which like onion skins have to be
peeled off until the innermost core comes to light. MAU’s analysis takes us
through the four states of the self: the waking, the dreaming, the dreamless,
and the fourth that transcends all three, in which the inner nature of the self
is manifested.
One way to understand the identity is to read it as the identity of the subjective and the objective reality. Though the distinction between the subject
and the object was not clearly formulated in the Upaniṣadic texts, the distinction between the subjective and the objective, the inner world and the outer
world that one perceives was there, and one could argue that the distinction
determines the two different directions in which the search moved forward,
and that the identity thesis overcomes this distinction. Sat or being underlies
both the subject and the object; thus, the two concepts the “brahman” and
the “ātman” may be construed as laying down the two paths both leading to
the same goal, which may be said to be either the ātman or the brahman or the
identifcation of the two; alternately, better yet ātman-brahman, which is neither
subjective nor objective, but both rolled in one. This identity thesis (we now
know particularly from Frege) between two terms is signifcant, not a mere
tautology; the two terms have different meanings but an identical referent.
Affrmation of such an identity, I imagine, must have shaken the intellectual
world of that time resulting in various systematizations that we come across
within the Vedāntic systems. I might add that this metaphysical achievement
predates by almost 2,000 years the philosophy of Hegel, in which reality was
taken to be spirit, beyond the subject/object distinction.
To sum up: the point that is being made is that the reality encompasses
everything; it signifes the totality of things. It is both the unmanifested beyond
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and the manifest phenomena thereby implying it is both one and many; it is
also the self, the seer, and the thinker. Thus, it is not an exaggeration to say
that each Upaniṣadic teaching stresses the coherence, the fnal unity of all
things; everything is the brahman.
V The Brahman and the World
The Upaniṣads conceive the brahman both positively and negatively. The
“Four Great Sayings” mentioned above describe the brahman in positive terms.
Additional positive sentences are found in most of the Upaniṣads; for example, the brahman is that who consists of mind, whose body is life, whose form
is light, whose conception is truth, whose soul is space, containing all works,
desires, odors, and tastes, and encompassing the whole world, the speechless,
the calm,49 I am the brahman,50 all this is the brahman,51 etc. Again, one also
fnds such negative sentences as the brahman is neither gross, nor subtle, nor
short, nor long, nor red, nor adhesive, without shadow, darkness, air, space,
attachment, taste, smell, eyes, ears, speech, mind, light, breath, mouth, and
measure, and without inside and outside.52 The negative sentences are best
typifed by “neti, neti,” “not this, not this.”53 Accordingly, the brahman in the
Upaniṣads is said to be both sagu ṇa (with qualities) and nirgu ṇa (without qualities). The positive sentences assert that everything, this object in front of me,
the object at a distance, all is the brahman; the negative sentences in effect deny
that any of these things is the brahman. Thus, the question arose regarding
how to reconcile these contradictory statements if the Upaniṣads are not to be
guilty of self-contradiction.
One group of thinkers privilege the affrmative over the negative, but the
others follow the reverse route. The former group argues that the negative
sentences assert none of this by itself is the brahman, that negation presupposes
a prior affrmation which is then to be denied, and this is exactly what happens. The second group holds that the affrmative sentences affrm the fnal
truth, i.e., all that we see, the totality of all things, has its being within the
brahman, but none separately. The frst group accords priority to the negative
sentences by maintaining that the negation, the brahman is “not this,” “not
this,” is the fnal truth, while the affrmations are provisional affrmations
that everything is the brahman. There is no need to choose between the two; it
is enough for our purposes to underscore the fact that the great commentators
of Vedānta, which we will study later in the chapter on Vedānta, follow different interpretations of the same Upaniṣadic sentences. Ultimately one must
choose which line of interpretation is logically stronger before deciding which
interpretation is more plausible.
Corresponding to the two views of the brahman as sagu ṇa and nirgu ṇa, there
are two answers about the cause of the world. According to the former, the
world is a real emanation of the brahman, according to the latter, the world is
simply an appearance of the brahman. Śvet ā at the outset asks such questions
as: Is brahman the cause of the world?54 Wherefrom have we all come, who has
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
kept us alive, and at the end where do we go? Time, the nature of things, destiny, chance, the elements of being, and the ātman (the all-knowing, thinking
self) were rejected as the cause of the world. No reason was given for rejecting
these possibilities. The Śvet ā proceeds to develop a theistic conception of the
brahman, with m āyā as its creative power that creates the world in accordance
with karmas (dharma and adharma) of the fnite souls.
The major trend of thought in the Upaniṣads, however, remains a theory
of emanation, not of creation. Two metaphors that dominate are: (1) a spider
spinning his web, and (2) a lump of salt dissolved in a bucket of water. Let me
elaborate. Just as a spider, without requiring any other cause, spins its web
from within, and also swallows it up; similarly, the world emanates out of the
brahman and goes back into it.55 Uddā laka, the father, asked his son Śvetaketu
to place a lump of salt in the water and return to him in the morning. When
Śvetaketu came in the morning, the father asked Śvetaketu to go and get the
lump of salt from the bucket of water. The son could not do so, because the
salt had dissolved. The father then asked the son to throw away the water and
return; the son did so. The father then informed the son, though he did not see
the salt, it was there. The invisible, the fnest essence, that which constitutes
the self of the entire world, and that is the truth; that is the ātman, “you are
that.”56
Most Upaniṣadic seers agree that the brahman is the cause of the world and
that the world is not manifested out of any external matter; it rather is a manifestation of an aspect of the brahman. Several Upaniṣads articulate the brahman
as the creator, sustainer, and destroyer of the world; it is both the material and
the effcient cause of the world.
From the standpoint of the nirgu ṇa brahman, the world is an appearance
of the brahman, and the principle of m āyā accounts for this appearance.
The teachings of Yājñavalkya in BU, for example, “duality as it were,”57
means duality is not real. The world is an appearance; the sensually perceived world is due to m āyā, which, in the Upani ṣ ads, denotes the empirical
world, i.e., the world characterized by space, time, cause-effect, is simply
an appearance.
Irrespective of whether the Upaniṣadic seers construe the brahman as cosmic or acosmic, they generally argued that empirical knowledge cannot
be trusted to give us the highest knowledge, the knowledge of the brahman.
The Upaniṣads make a distinction between the higher knowledge and lower
knowledge. In MU, the wise man Angira told Śaunaka that those who know
the brahman, say that there are two kinds of knowledge, the lower and the
higher.58 The lower consists of the four Vedas, grammar, rituals, astrology,
etc. Knowledge of anything that changes, and eventually perishes, is the lower
knowledge. The highest knowledge (than which there is nothing higher) is
the knowledge of the unchanging immutable, immortal, ātman/brahman. The
highest knowledge is the knowledge of omnipresent self. Each of the lower
objects could be worshipped as if it were the brahman, but only the ātman is
brahman. The true object of the higher knowledge is the unseen, unperceivable,
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T H E U PA N I Ṣ A D S
omnipresent, inapprehensible to the senses, imperishable subtle brahman, who
is the cause of all things.59 From him, brahm ā, name-form, hira ṇyagarbha, and
food, are born.60 Scattered throughout the Upaniṣads is the idea that this
brahman-ātman is the highest knowledge, the knowledge of which leaves nothing else to be known. It brings about the highest good, puts an end to all sufferings, and brings about immortality.
The Upaniṣads repeatedly reiterate that the knowledge of the brahman is the
highest knowledge. However, can we literally speak of the knowledge of the
brahman? There are texts that strongly emphasize the ineffability and the unknowability of the brahman, e.g., “the self cannot be reached by spiritual learning, nor by intellect”;61 “one who knows does not know (it), one who does not
know, knows,”62 “words return from it without reaching it,” etc.63 One could
argue that the brahman is like the Kantian thing-in-itself, unknown and unknowable. Nothing could be further from the truth. The above quoted texts
only suggest that our ordinary epistemic means do not yield the knowledge of
the brahman, the only means to mok ṣa. “One who knows the brahman becomes
the brahman.”64
Kena Upani ṣad raises what may be called a more strictly philosophical question, namely, what makes knowledge possible? Or, literally, who is spurred
by whom? Because of whom?65 The eyes see it; the ears hear it, etc. The idea
is that the senses including the manas and the buddhi by themselves cannot
perform other appropriate functions unless they are guided by the ātman. So,
in the long run, it is the ātman, which makes it possible for them to discharge
their proper functions.
The sense organs and other cognitive faculties perform their appointed
jobs owing to the inspiration, intention, or command of something other than
them. And yet, this something else, the ātman, is not seen by the eyes, expressed by words, or reached by the mind. How is it then, though in itself
incapable of being known, it makes knowledge possible?66 The next verse improves upon the last formulation: this ātman is other than what is known and
also other than what is unknown.67 An object is either known, or unknown,
or in part known, while remaining unknown in other aspects. But the subject,
the knower, is neither known nor unknown. It is not seen by the eyes, and yet
because of it the eyes see; it is not comprehended by the manas (mind) while the
manas is manifested by it, the speech organ cannot articulate it but the speech
organ and the sounds are produced by it, are manifested by it. This precisely
is the ātman or the brahman.
The point that is being made is well established philosophically: the subject,
the self, the ātman, is the ground of the possibility of the knowledge of objects,
but in itself it is not a possible object. It is not the case then that I know the
ātman-brahman; it is not the case that I do not know the ātman-brahman. A paradox no doubt, but the paradox has to be confronted in its full implications.
“One for whom brahman is said to be unknown, truly knows it: one who knows
it does not indeed know it”;68 it is the paradox of transcendental philosophy.
The ātman manifests all objects because it is self-manifesting.
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
The point that is being made is as follows: The brahman-ātman is not accessible through the empirical modes of knowing. Hence, the question: how is it
known? This particular question has been answered in many different ways in
different Upaniṣads. MU states that when the “buddhi is purifed of all faults,
one becomes ft for acquiring that knowledge.”69 Being self-manifesting, brahman shows itself to the one whose heart is pure, who has practiced austerity,
and has “burnt away” all his faults.
The Ka ṭha introduces the metaphor of a chariot: the body is like a chariot
on which the ātman rides, the buddhi or the intellect is the driver of the chariot, the manas or the mind is the rein, the sense organs are the horses and the
sensory objects are what the horses travel over. The complex of self, i.e., the
sense-organs and mind, is what the wise call the “enjoyer.” When the buddhi,
under the infuence of an unsettled mind, becomes non-discriminating, the
horses become uncontrollable. On the contrary, a settled mind, knows the
path, and the charioteer, i.e., the buddhi is discriminating, the mind is controlled making it possible to reach the sacred goal.70
But all these faculties, as functioning within the body, have their effcacy
only with regard to the empirical knowledge, i.e., the lower knowledge. Thus,
the Ka ṭha in no uncertain terms affrms that the ātman is neither grasped by
the Vedic hymns, nor by the intellect, nor by hearing the scriptures. He,
whom the ātman chooses, grasps him, and the ātman manifests her own nature
to him.71 This last sentence, as formulated here, suggests a theistic conception
of god. But on Śa ṃ kara’s reading, true being, self-manifesting consciousness
is revealed only to those who are true aspirants, those who seek to know the
true self whole-heartedly.
In another Upani ṣad, i.e., the I śa Upani ṣad, in which knowledge (vidyā )
and its opposite ignorance (avidyā ) are discussed, states that avidy ā leads to
darkness, but vidyā leads to still greater darkness. It is by knowing vidyā as
vidyā and avidyā as avidyā that one overcomes death and attains immortality.
The above two verses have given rise to various interpretations. Here, it
is suffce to note that many commentators take avidy ā to mean the knowledge of the plurality of things and vidyā simply the textual knowledge of the
Vedas.
Though most schools of Indian philosophy accept mok ṣa as the highest
knowledge, they differ regarding the process that leads to it, and what in
fact happens upon attaining mok ṣa. Some schools regard knowledge, others
devotion, and still others a combination of the two, to be indispensable for
reaching this knowledge. In some schools, upon attaining the highest knowledge, the empirical individual ( jīva) becomes identical with the supreme self;
in others, he becomes a part of the supreme self, etc. On one account, mok ṣa is
reached all at once; on another, it is reached step-by-step. The latter account
makes moral life and religious practices preliminary and preparatory steps
towards the fnal goal. These differences are contingent upon the ontological
and epistemological presuppositions of each school, and we will study some of
these issues in the chapters to follow.
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T H E U PA N I Ṣ A D S
Questions Arising from the Upaniṣadic Teachings
These questions, not clearly answered in the Upaniṣads themselves, became central themes of the later philosophical traditions (e.g., within
Vedānta).
1
2
3
4
5
What is the nature of the brahman?
Is the brahman nirgu ṇa or sagu ṇa?
What is the nature of the ātman?
What is the relationship between the brahman and the world?
How can one know the brahman?
In conclusion, let me note the following: inquiry into the nature of knowing precedes that of being, although in the order of the way things are, being
precedes knowing. The Upaniṣadic affrmation that the knower of the brahman becomes the brahman formulates the paradox, leaving it open for at least
two interpretations. In a straightforward sense, it simply means that knowing
results in the realization of being. But it lends itself to being understood the
other way around as well, i.e., one, who becomes brahman, alone is the knower
of the brahman. Knowledge is identity with the brahman.
Study Questions
1. Briefy explain the meaning and the signifcance of the following terms:
a.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
Avidyā, (b) vidyā, (c) mok ṣa, (d) saccid ānanda, (e) nirgu ṇa, and (f) sagu ṇa.
How are these concepts related?
Identify the thirteen major Upaniṣads.
Critically discuss the Indra and Virocana dialogue.
Explain the paradigm of paradox.
Critically analyze the states of consciousness discussed in the Upaniṣads.
CU states:
That which is the subtle essence, this whole world has that for its self.
That is the true self. You are that, Śvetaketu.
a.
b.
c.
d.
e.
First, explain the context of this dialogue.
Explain the meaning of “that” and “you.”
Explain the meaning and the signifcance of the passage using examples from the dialogue.
How does the passage relate to the overall teachings of the Upaniṣads?
Use paradigms from different Upaniṣads to substantiate your thesis.
Do you think the Upaniṣadic thought represents an advance over
the Vedic thought? If so, why? If not, why not? Give reasons for your
answer.
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Suggested Readings
For an excellent translation of the twelve selected Upanisads with a useful
Introduction and Bibliography, see Patrick Olivelle, Upani ṣads (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1996). Students may also wish to consult Robert
Ernest Hume, The Thirteen Principal Upanishads (Oxford: University Press,
1995, and S. Radhakrishnan, The Principal Upani ṣads (New Delhi: Harper
Collins Publishers India, 1953), reprinted in 1994. For an introduction to
the Upanisadic thought in terms of paradigms, see Joel Brereton, “The
Upanishads,” in Approaches to the Asian Classics, edited by Wm. T. de Bary
and I. Bloom (New York: Columbia University), pp. 115–135.
56
Part III
DAR Ś ANAS
Preliminary Considerations
4
DAR Ś A NAS
Preliminary Considerations
I Issues of Translation
There is no doubt that introducing darśanas properly and without sacrifcing
the integrity of the Sanskrit original texts upon which all good expositions
must be based is a very diffcult venture. Many Indian philosophers today
use Sanskrit sources, write in English, and wish to preserve the authenticity of their interpretations. However, presenting these sources in English (or
any other language, for that matter) does not amount to simply translating
from one language to another; it requires using concepts that are familiar
to Western scholars and identifying them in the Sanskrit philosophical discourse. This is no doubt a tricky venture, strewn with possibilities for selfdeception and incorrect interpretations.
First, any translation—whether it is of an ancient or a modern text—takes
place from the vantage point of the historical present in which the translator
is situated. In translating a text, the idea of capturing the original intellectual milieu is simply a romantic aspiration that is unattainable in practice.
Translating a text with an effort to make it ancient implies using one’s own
preconception of what was the case, which is no more or no less of a construction than the person who translates an ancient text with the preconception of
making it relevant to contemporary times.
Secondly, if the matter were simply of translation, of using technical terms
properly, or of representing Indian thought in Western languages, the issues
discussed here would be semantic. However, this is not the case. Semantic
issues—questions of correct translation or mistranslation—refect deep conceptual confusions. Let us take for example the term “śruti.” Many scholars,
notably Indologists, take for granted that this Sanskrit word translates into
“revelation.” In its simplest and etymological rendering, “śruti” means “heard
texts,” primarily referring to the Vedic literature due to its oral transmission.
Translation of “śruti” as “revelation” raises serious questions regarding the
deep structure of Indian philosophical thinking and signals a greater danger that many excellent writers do not realize. Translating śruti as “revelation” creates a conceptual muddle, and brings with it, additional conceptual
ambiguities.
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Thirdly, I am aware that literal translation from one language to another is
impossible if one means by “literal translation” that which preserves the identity of meaning. Despite the best intentions of the translator not to jeopardize
the integrity of original texts, all translations are at one level unavoidably
interpretations, insofar as they involve the translator’s subjective frame of
reference. This means that it is interpretations and translations of texts that
are compared, not the original texts themselves. Those of us who work with
Sanskrit texts and compare their ideas to Western philosophical ideas know
very well the risk of such translations and comparisons.
Even if we agree that there is no such thing as pure translation, that all translations involve interpretation, it is important that we make our interpretations as
free from arbitrariness as possible. Recent research indicates that the two go hand
in hand. For instance, the term “brahman” is often translated as “god” when the
translator interprets it from a theological perspective but is more frequently translated as “absolute” when tinged with a purely metaphysical sense. Choosing one
or the other of these translations of the term already predetermines whether the
Upanisadic texts lie closer to theology or Hegelian metaphysics.
So, for those scholars who depend upon translations of original materials,
as well as for those who are the translators, some comparison is almost inescapable. In translating a Sanskrit text from Vedānta or Buddhism, one almost
unavoidably uses the technical vocabulary of her contemporary philosophers’
writings in the language into which she is translating. So, for example, when
Stcherbatsky translated Dharmak īrti into English, his translation was mediated by the philosophical vocabulary of the German Neo-Kantians. I think
the same characterizes any translator. One may discard the antiquated language of the philosophers of the beginning of the twentieth century, but one
would instead be using the language of more recent analytic philosophers.
Engaging with any such translation then is covertly, and almost unavoidably,
doing comparative philosophy.
As the one who works on Indian philosophical texts and believes in the rapprochement between East and West in philosophy, I have several anxieties that
relate to presenting Indian philosophy using the rhetoric of Western analytic
philosophy. Over a decade ago, I reviewed a book proposal by two famous
Indian philosophers from this part of the world for a university press. This
proposal illustrated some of my anxieties—the authors’ goal was to “provide
a comprehensive philosophical introduction to classical Indian philosophy”
primarily “for students of Indian philosophy” and “Asian or non-Western
philosophies in general.” To this end, the book was organized “around philosophical themes rather than religious systems,” and, since another aim of the
book was to foster “interchange between the two traditions,” one of the chapters was titled “Transcendence.” It is understandable that these authors were
presenting Indian philosophy in English and did not wish the book to become
heavily scholastic and diffcult for a beginner, so they decided to translate
“darśanas” as “religious systems.” The nine darśanas of Indian philosophy are
by no means religious, let alone religious systems. However, there is the other
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extreme, which consists in diluting the issues so much that the distinctive flavor of the original discourse is lost. A middle course, which I am sure, the authors wished to follow was to avoid the technicalities of the Sanskrit discourse
and present Indian philosophical theses and arguments under the guise of
Western philosophical rhetoric resulting in titling a chapter “Transcendence.”
But it is important to use available English terms and concepts with extreme
caution so that they do not jeopardize the integrity of the original philosophical discourse.
When we are dealing with general issues, our preferences and prejudices
may easily infuence our judgment. This is quite different from discussing
specifc philosophical concepts within specifc Indian philosophical systems
(darśanas), such as brahman, ātman, sāk ṣin,1 and cit.2 In such cases, the texts provide a constraint on one’s tendencies to arrive at conclusions not borne out by
the texts, and usually, it is only after one has done textual research and interpretation that one is in a position to speculate on such general questions as
the nature of Indian philosophy. However, here again, we should not indulge
in the free play of our preferred choices. To determine the nature of Indian
philosophy and present it accurately to Western students, one may look for
specifc Western concepts to determine its nature; in that case, it is natural to
ask how important Western concepts fgure in Indian thought and to subsequently search for their Sanskrit equivalents.
Some obvious candidates of interest are which Sanskrit terms can be translated as “reason,” “experience” “intuition,” “transcendent,” “transcendental,” “spirit,” “spiritual,” etc., and alternately, which English terms may be
used for “ jñ āna,” “pram āṇas,” “anubhava” etc. This leads to questions of conceptual meaning: Does “ jñ āna” mean “knowledge” in the Western sense of
the term? Are pram āṇas “sources” of knowledge along the lines of “reason”
and “experience” in Western philosophy? Is cit “transcendent” or “transcendental”? Is there a concept of “reason” in Indian philosophy? Are Indian philosophies rational structures, and if so, in what sense? Is Indian philosophy
founded on “revealed” truths? Is Indian philosophy practical as opposed to
a more theoretical Western intellectual tradition? In using Western concepts
are we importing into our understanding of Indian thought concepts already
loaded with the history of Western religion and philosophies?
Clearly, the above questions cannot be answered without an examination
of the crucial concepts entailed in them on which translations and contexts
impact. This has impressed upon me that Indian philosophy must be examined in its own terms.3 This increasing awareness has compelled me to fnd a
proper language, so to speak, in which to explain and discuss the structure of
Indian philosophies. By “structure,” I mean the foundation, the reason, the
logic, the rationality, that is specifcally Indian and refuses to be assimilated
into the terms of Western logic. This is not to champion a complete separation
between East and West, but rather an appeal to keep in perspective the fact
that our search for philosophical universals should not blind us to the specifc
features of Indian thought.
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So, before undertaking an examination of the nine darśanas, I will review
selected fundamental concepts and distinctions that are frequently used to
present Indian philosophy to Western readers. Wherever necessary, I will
place them in their historical context in the hope that this discussion will
help my readers correctly understand the basic issues that surround Indian
darśanas, remove some of their biases and preconceived notions, set the stage
for ensuing discussion, enable the authentic nature of Indian philosophical
discourse to manifest, and provide an inkling of this author’s framework.
II Conceptual Considerations
Jñāna and Knowledge
Etymologically, “ jñ āna” is usually translated as “knowledge,” but it is important to keep in mind that the uses of these two words are different. In Western
philosophy, it is linguistically absurd to say that “he knew that P” and that “P
turned out to be false.” “S knows that P” entails that P is true. There is no such
implication in the corresponding use of “ jñ āna” in the Indian tradition. In the
Indian context, it is permissible that “S had jñ āna,” which, however, was false.
A jñ āna is a cognition, an event, that happens to a subject, and when such a
cognitive event is true, it becomes knowledge as pram ā (true cognition or true
knowledge). Thus, not all cognitions are knowledge; some cognitions may be
instances of error, doubt, wrong perception, etc.
This distinction is already implied in the use of the Greek word “epist ēm ē,”
from which “epistemology” is derived. “Epist ēm ē” is contrasted with “doxa”
or opinion. Since the object of knowledge must be true, Plato asked in the
Theaetetus: What do we know when we have a belief that turns out to be false?
Let us say one falsely believes that 2 + 2 is 5. Does it imply that there are false
facts, or should we say that in false beliefs we make a false combination of
the elements where each constituent is really there, which means that the 2 is
there, the 5 is there, but the sign of equality is wrong?
There does not seem to be a good equivalent in Sanskrit of “doxa.” Like
Parmenides, Plato regarded doxa as belief based on sensory perception; in Indian epistemology, perceptual knowledge was never viewed as falling short of
true knowledge. This contrast between epist ēm ē and doxa in Sanskrit discourse
confrms the point that “knowledge” implies truth, while “ jñ āna” does not. If
one keeps in mind their differences, there is no harm in using “knowledge”
and “cognition” interchangeably for “ jñ āna,” and that is how I have used it in
this work.
“Sources” of Cognition or Knowledge (Pram āṇas)
Both Eastern and Western philosophers have tried to identify the “sources”
of knowledge. However, there is an important difference between the two
projects. Western epistemologists, taking “source” in a strict, literal sense,
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developed two contrasting traditions—rationalism and empiricism—to address the question: Does knowledge arise from sensory experience or reason?
In this question, “experience” and “reason” designate two different faculties
of the mind. In the twentieth century, Karl Popper proposed that the very
question of a “source” of knowledge is misleading, and modern Western epistemologists now claim to have completely left the project behind. However,
for nearly 2,000 years, the search for the proper cognitive faculty dominated
Western epistemology.
In contrast, Indian epistemologists were not looking for such a cognitive faculty, nor a source of knowledge. They developed the theory of pram āṇas, which
are means of knowing, a set of causal conditions that produce knowledge—
but not a “source” in the strict Western sense given above. This difference
partly accounts for the fact that the two theories of rationalism and empiricism which dominated the history of Western epistemology do not exist in
Indian philosophy.
The Concept of “Reason”
The connotation of “reason” in the history of Western thought was once much
broader than it has since become. The use of logic captured only a specifc
function of reason. The word “reason,” derived from the Latin “ratio,” signifes “relation” or “connection.” When a logician or mathematician proceeds
step by step and arrives at a conclusion, she is said to be grasping a relation
or connection by means of reason. Similarly, one is using reason when on
the basis of observing many men dying, she establishes a connection between
mortality and humanity, inferring that “all men are mortal.” Thus, the reasoner makes observational generalizations and abstractions, and possesses the
ability to grasp principles underlying events. In so doing, reason exercises its
ability to analyze, refect, abstract, evaluate, justify, set principles, and perform other cognate functions.
In contemporary times, it is customary to hold that “reason” means “logical
thinking,” and that logical rationality signifes “logical validity.” Accordingly,
when one asks whether a philosophical system is based on reason, one is really
asking whether it can be logically established. On my thesis, though reason
and logic are closely connected, they cannot be identifed. A philosophical
position is rational if and only if it is adequately grounded in evidence and
reasoning. By “evidence” I mean an experience, which presents the thing itself in the way in which a philosophical theory describes it. It is the grounding
of a theory which makes it rational. One of the ways of grounding a theory is
by logical proof, but this can only demonstrate the theory’s consistency, not its
truth. The truth that a philosophical theory claims can only be demonstrated
by experiential evidence, which together with logical consistency constitutes
the rationality of a theory.
Keeping the above in mind, I maintain that the pram āṇas of Indian philosophical systems constitute a theory of reason insofar as pram āṇa theory is
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not only a theory of the way a true cognition is generated but also a theory of
justifcation. A pram āṇa is that by which a prameya or an object of knowledge is
established. Pram āṇas include perception, inference, comparison, śabda, postulation, and anupalabdhi. Each is a way of validating one’s beliefs, while at the
same time, each is also a way in which one’s beliefs are generated.
“Logic” as the “Logic of Cognitions” in the Indian Context4
In Indian discussions of epistemology, whatever is regarded as logic forms
an important chapter. This is somewhat unusual when considered from the
perspective of Western theories of knowledge. In Western philosophy, logic
gradually achieved a kind of separation from epistemology, and almost the
status of a completely independent and autonomous discipline. Today, a Western logician is concerned with the formal consistency and/or contradiction
between propositions, which has nothing to do with whether the propositions
express any true knowledge or not. Logic’s concern is not to determine the criteria for truth and falsity, nor it is to determine, given a proposition p, whether
p is true or false. A Western logician frst removes all material terms from a
concrete proposition, until she is left with only logical terms such as “all,”
“some,” “none,” “is or is not,” “if-then,” “either-or,” etc. With such propositional forms as “if p then q,” “p and q,” “not p,” and “p or q,” the logician determines the truth value of any sentence in these forms by constructing truth
tables for the functions. Reduced to this skeleton, the logician has a subject
matter which is far removed from the concrete knowledge as though with the
fesh and blood of concrete knowers.
The Indian systems of logic maintain their concern with concrete knowledge or knowledges acquired by concrete knowers. Its domain is that of cognitive events occurring in the mental lives of persons. It asks such questions as:
If a person sees (has a perceptual cognition of) smoke on a distant mountain at
a temporal moment, what other cognitive events would happen in succession
so that the person would be justifed in arriving at cognition of there being
fre on the hill? To Western philosophers, such an interest in cognitive events
has seemed an inappropriate diversion into psychology, which many wish to
banish from logic totally and only marginally admit in epistemology. Though
logic and psychological ultimately diverge in contemporary Indian thought,
in their origins they were closely intertwined.
To say a little more about this and the logic of cognitions, I can do no
better than return to the theme of inference. Inference is generally treated
by Indian logicians (Nyāya the chief among them), as being of two types:
Inference for oneself and inference for another. The former is concerned with
how a person arrives at an inferential cognition for herself, in the privacy of
her own thinking. Obviously, here psychology dominates. A person sees a
column of smoke arising from a hilltop, remembers the rule she has learned
from past experience—wherever there is smoke there is fre—and then almost
by necessity (call it logical or psychological or both) arrives at the inferential
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cognition that there is fre on that hill. If one then wishes to convince another,
then the original psychological process is cast into the purely logical form that
the Naiyāyikas regard as a formal, fve-membered syllogism. Logic casts off
its psychological garb and reveals a foundation that should hold good for any
thinker’s attempt to convince the other.
Note that in the psychological account of inference for oneself, each cognitive event occurs at a certain temporal moment and the order of succession between them becomes of central importance. Furthermore, all these successive
cognitive events must occur, rather must belong to the same self. Cognition
is not only a particular event brought about by specifc causal conditions, but
it also has a content which is propositional and can remain identical amidst
numerically different cognitive events. So, my perceptual cognition of smoke
on the hill has the content: There is a column of smoke on that hill. Another
perceiver who also perceives smoke on that hill will experience a cognitive
event that is numerically distinct from my perceptual cognitive event, but
which shares the same content. In this sense, a proposition, like an entity, can
be abstracted from perceptual cognitions of infnitely many subjects so that
logic of cognitions is possible.
Jñāna and Truth
To determine the concept of “truth” in the Eastern and Western traditions,
I will begin by asking the question: What precisely is the bearer of truth in
the two traditions? Truth in Western philosophy may be taken to belong either to a declarative sentence or a judgment or a proposition. A sentence is a
linguistic entity: It is either in English, or German, or Sanskrit, or any other
language. A judgment is a product of a mental act of judging or asserting
something of something. A proposition is neither of these. It is the meaning of
a sentence, a thought abstracted from any thinker, and may be judged about
but is not necessarily the content of a judgment.
Truth in Indian philosophy is predicated of a cognition. A cognition is not
a linguistic entity; it is neither in English, nor German, nor Sanskrit. It is no
doubt someone’s cognition—that is, it belongs to a knower—and cannot be
identifed with an abstract proposition. It might seem as though it is a judgment; we know that at a minimum Kant seems to have taken knowledge in
this sense. However, a judgment has a subject/predicate structure, while a
cognition by itself does not have such a structure. A cognition is a complex
relational entity consisting of several such epistemic components as qualifers,
epistemic relations, and components that function as substantive. It is this
complex entity that is said to have the property of truth when its structure and
the structure of reality agree. Thus, Indian logic, irrespective of whether one
has Vedānta or Nyāya in mind, is not a logic of sentences, nor of propositions,
nor of judgments—but of, as we have already seen, cognitions.
Indian epistemologists consider the extent to which our beliefs and propositions agree with reality, rather than simply assessing the consistency of
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propositions. But epistemology can neither decide which of our beliefs are
true or false nor tell us why. It can only ask very general questions, namely:
What does it mean for a belief or proposition to be true or false? How can a
general criterion for answering the truth question be given when material
truths differ from case to case? It is here that the Indian philosophers have
something important to say. A cognition is true according to Indian theories
of truth if and only if—
1
2
3
its structure correctly represents the structure of reality,
if the cognition is caused by one of the means of true cognition, and
if it leads to a successful practical response.
On this account, epistemology is not completely independent of questions
about the origin of cognition and so it is not reducible to formal logic. Rather,
Indian interest in logic, such as the theory of inference, has traditionally been
epistemological; it considers inference as a means of acquiring genuine knowledge. So, in the Indian tradition, the discipline of epistemology intersects with
logic and metaphysics, which have largely been kept apart in Western thought.
Transcendent and Transcendental
In my classes, I have been often asked whether the brahman (pure consciousness) is transcendent or transcendental. Here, it is important to keep in mind
that the notion of “transcendence” employed to characterize the sub-feld of
metaphysics and religion has its origin in Judeo-Christian theology. Additionally, the concept has different meanings in Kant and Husserl. In Kant, the
transcendent is beyond the limits of possible experience; such supersensible
entities as the soul, God, the universe are transcendent. “Transcendental”
does not mean beyond the limits of possible experience; rather, it constitutes
the conditions that make experience possible (a priori conditions of experience).
In Husserl’s phenomenology, we bracket (set aside) what is transcendent or
mundane, in order to reach the transcendental—that which constitutes experience along with its objects and the meaning these objects have.
The brahman or pure consciousness may be regarded as both transcendent
and transcendental. It is transcendent insofar as the experience of brahman is
non-sensuous; it transcends all ordinary mundane experiences. It is transcendental inasmuch as the brahman is itself the possibility of any experience at all,
without it nothing would be manifested or known.
The Concept of “Concept”
Western scholars have long talked about the role of conceptual thinking and
discursivity in Western philosophy and its alleged absence in Indian philosophy. The conceptual thought in this case is differentiated from intuition.
Several points are worth noting.
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One may say that most, if not all, thinking is conceptual without presupposing a concept of “theory.” Socrates and Plato forged the dominant Western
model of concepts (such as “ justice,” “goodness,” etc.) which have been reifed
into entities of some kind, whether mental or not. They were less concerned
with which discrete acts were good than with the concept of “goodness” itself.
The meaning of a word, when reifed, becomes a concept. The task of philosophy has been to defne the concept in such a way that the content and limits
are precisely stated.
When Hegel remarked that Indian thought was not able to raise its intuitions to the level of concepts, he had meant that the subject matter of true
philosophy must be concepts and not things that are intuited. It does not
appear that Indian philosophy ever reifed concepts into entities, nor held
that the domain of philosophy is the domain of all things, including the real
things that we encounter in the world. Concepts, where they appear, are
tools for thinking about things and not independent entities. The reifed
concepts, one may say, are but reifed meanings. Indian philosophy shows
extreme reluctance to admit meanings as distinguished from reference. 5
In fact, Indian thinkers typically—with the possible exception of some interpretations of the Buddhists apohav āda—eschewed a referential theory of
meanings or the idea that words designate things.6 Given this theory of
meaning, the Indian theory of defnition is an attempt to devise linguistic
expression which would apply exclusively to the thing being defned, and not
to anything more or anything less.
Philosophical thinking therefore cannot be simply a logical analysis. As a
conceptual analysis, it must derive its concepts from somewhere, either from
language or from experience. However, in these two cases, irrespective
of whether our fnal court of appeal is language or experience, we are
dealing with resources that are at our disposal. Let me give an illustrative
example. Philosophers, from the East and the West alike, are concerned
with moral goodness. Mere logical and conceptual analysis cannot tell us
what goodness is; we have to determine what people mean by “good.” This
amounts to either linguistic analysis or experiential analysis (how people
experience goodness, which implies appealing to moral experience). My
contention is that Indians used conceptual thinking, but their concept of
“concept” never became the Western concept of “concept.” Let me explain this point further using the concept of duty found in Kant and the
Indian text Bhagavad G īt ā.
The goal of Kant’s duty ethics was to identify a principle from which all our
duties can be derived so that they are applications of a single principle. That
is, a single moral principle in duty ethics is supposed to work as the criterion
by which one can decide what one ought to do in all situations. Kant gives us
the Categorical Imperative (the principle of the universalizability of maxims
without contradiction). A moral rule in the Hindu context, on the other hand,
is not a categorical imperative, that is, it is not an unconditional command.
The dharma-imperatives in the G īt ā are hypothetical imperatives; they assume
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the conditional form: “If you wish to achieve X, then you should do Y” rather
than “you ought to do Y.” The latter, as an example of the strong Kantian
notion of “ought” (which is completely independent of all consequences), is
not available in Hindu thought. The Indian “concepts” are concrete concepts
and the process of abstraction never reached the level of abstraction available
in Western thought.
A superfcial reading of Indian thought has suggested that the Indians were
concerned with intuitive things, whether a perceptual object or a metaphysical reality, but this is not quite correct. The Indian philosopher’s interest was
to give the lak ṣa ṇa (meaning by implication) of the perceived entity. To give
a lak ṣa ṇa is to produce a linguistic expression sometimes consisting of negations, or at other times, a combination of negations with positive attributions,
so that it applies to nothing else. Using language in this manner is precisely
philosophical thinking.
Thinking qua thinking is never materialistic or spiritualistic. The sort of
objects which may qualify as thinking mostly derive from the subject matter of thinking rather than the nature of thinking. One would be completely
mistaken if one held that thinking about matter is materialistic thinking or
that thinking about spirit is spiritualistic. Thinking, however, may be good
thinking, i.e., it is well-articulated, clear, elegant and in some yet to be defned sense, true of its object; or, thinking may be bad thinking, i.e., it is not
clearly articulated, unclear, inelegant and may be true of its object in some
sense. However, it is important to note that that thinking about vagueness
is not eo ipso vague thinking. When Cezanne painted a vague landscape on
a misty morning, the vagueness was clearly painted. A good thinker clearly
thinks about what he or she is thinking about, irrespective of whether it is the
brahman of Advaita Vedānta or the referent of Fregean semantics; it does not
matter what one is thinking about. Clarity, by whatever standard it is gauged,
is not enough. Where clarity is dictated not by the thinker’s methodological
prejudice, but by the very nature of subject matter that one is thinking about,
thinking achieves greatness.
Finally, I believe that the contrast between concept and intuition is spurious; concepts are rooted in intuition, intuitions are concepts in the making,
and concepts transform into intuitions when they are perfected. Both Indian
philosophy and Western philosophy integrate intuitions and concepts and different systems and thinkers do so in different ways. This explains why an Advaitin speaks a language that is closer to Plato or Spinoza, while a Naiyāyika
speaks a language that is closer to Bertrand Russell. The relative importance
of intuition and concepts in the total structure of thinking varies from thinker
to thinker, and not across the East and the West. Philosophical thinking is
never merely conceptual, nor merely intuitive.
I believe it is diffcult to speak about philosophy meaningfully in purely formal, general, abstract terms. Pure philosophy is an empty abstraction; we always have a contextual interpretation and reinterpretation, we have reference
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to a culture, a tradition. Philosophy is a category, and once we defne what
appropriately belongs to that category, we develop internal differentiations
and variations. The major threads of philosophical thought—European,
American, Indian, Chinese, and others—differ not just as a matter of geographical location, but of historical and social context.
I hope the above provides my readers an inkling of the present author’s
subjective frame of reference, insights into the historical and philosophical
contexts of some of the important concepts used in Indian darśanas, and helps
them understand Indian contexts from “within” so to speak and relate to
Western conceptual apparatus in terms of thematic relevance.
With this in mind, let us review the selected important features of the nine
darśanas.
III Important Features of the Dar śanas
Before proceeding with our in-depth discussion of the individual darśanas, let’s
look at some important features that most darśanas (excluding the Cārvā kas)
share.
1 Each darśana has a pram āṇa theory. The technical word “pram āṇa” has
been variously translated as “proofs,” “means of acquiring knowledge,”
“means of true or valid cognition,” or “ways of knowing.” In other words,
logic and epistemology are components of each of these nine Indian
schools. The theories differ from darśana to darśana: The Indian materialists admit only the perception as a reliable source of valid cognition,
the Buddhists accept both perception and inference, the Naiyāyikas add
comparison (upam āna) and verbal testimony (śabda) to the list, and the Advaitins accept all four of these pram āṇas and add two more: Postulation or
presumption (arth āpatti) and non-perception (anupalabdhi).
2 The pram āṇas are advanced not merely to validate empirical cognitive
claims, such as “it rained yesterday,” or “it will rain tomorrow,” but also
to validate such philosophical claims as “the world has a creator,” or that
“the substance is permanent.” In most Western philosophies, philosophical and empirical statements are sharply differentiated, and the grounding of the empirical epistemic claims follows a pattern which is different
from what the grounding of philosophical claims requires. Even the Advaita Vedānta school uses the pram āṇas to validate its basic thesis that
reality is One, universal consciousness, although there is a ranking of the
pram āṇas with regard to their relative strength.
3 In Western epistemologies, for example in Immanuel Kant, there is a continuing tension between the causal question of how a cognition comes into
being and the logical question of its validity. This tension is not found in
Indian epistemologies. The pram āṇas are at once the instruments by which
true cognitions arise and the ways of justifying a cognitive claim. So, we
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4
5
6
7
8
may say, a perceptual cognition is valid or justifed if it arises through
specifable conditions (for example, the contact of the sense organ with
the object, etc.). This simple account of perception as a pram āṇa is too
simplistic and requires several conditions to be added; the formula,
however, indicates the overall structure. My claim amounts to this:
In Indian epistemologies a causal theory of the origin also serves as a
component of an epistemic theory of justifcation of cognitive claims.
Another feature of the theory of pram ā ṇas, irrespective of the system one
has in mind, is the primacy of perception. This feature has two aspects. First, every other mode of knowing presupposes and is founded
on perception. This also characterizes inference (anum ā na) and verbal
testimony (śabda)—One must see the smoke on the yonder hill to be
able to infer that there must be smoke; one must hear spoken words,
to grasp their meanings. Perception, however, is not limited to sensory
perception. According to many schools, one also perceives universals
and relations.
Irrespective of the theory of consciousness held by the different darśanas,
each affrms that consciousness plays the evidencing role in knowledge
since every instance of knowledge is a manifestation of an object to and
by consciousness. The schools disagreed regarding the self-manifestedness of consciousness, but that it is the only source of manifestation of
an object was beyond dispute. This thesis led to an epistemological realism in the āstika darśanas, while the Buddhists combined it with certain
constructivism.
Though correspondence and coherence (samvāda) were widely used as criteria for truth, a pragmatist account of truth was common to all the darśanas.
The two concepts, when available, tended to merge: Truth leads to successful practice (arthakriyāk āritva). There are many versions of it, but there
is no doubt that the concept of “successful practice” did play a central role
in the discussions of truth which points to a close relationship between
theory and practice for the Indian mind.
This relation has been noticed, but often misconstrued as implying that
Indian philosophy lacks theoretical thinking, that thinking is motivated
for the practical goal of freedom from the chain of karma and rebirth. The
truth, however, lies deeper. We will learn, as we proceed further in our investigation, there is much theoretical thinking which, however, is taken as
leading to a benefcial practical consequence. In this respect, Indian thinking is a close ally of the ancient Greek view, especially Socratic thinking,
that philosophical thinking paves the way for cultivating a good life.
The ultimate goal, not alone of philosophy but also of ethical life, serves
as a spiritual transformation of existence. The presence of a spiritual goal
for philosophical thinking has been well recognized but again, at the
same time, misconstrued. “Spirituality” in the Indian context does not
exclude theoretical thinking but demands that one searches for the truth in
order to reach this goal. Saying that Indian philosophy is “spiritual” often
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9
10
11
12
13
calls up the misleading picture of a philosopher meditating in yogic postures. The admission of a spiritual goal does not mean that the methodologies applied in seeking that goal must, and do, exclude rigorous analysis
and critical argument. The style of debate in classical Indian philosophy,
carried out through case-making and rebuttals, belies this assumption.
Much of philosophical thinking in Indian philosophy transpired in the
form of objections and replies ad nauseum.
At the same time, it is true that the practice of yoga was a pervasive component of Indian culture; it was practiced by the Hindus, the Buddhists,
and the Jainas. Consequently, many philosophers, who excelled at theoretical thinking and critical argument, did also, as a matter of fact, practiced yoga. Consequently, various types of yoga developed consistent with
the goal of each darśana’s specifc theoretical position. All the darśanas
(except for C ārvā kas), accepted the following soteriological structure: karma
and rebirth → (sa ṃsāra) bondage → mok ṣa. Each concept in this chain was
differently conceived within each darśana’s theoretical system, with corresponding differences in their practices being the result.
Indian philosophers engaged in what Western thinkers call “theory”;
however, they neither conceptualized the idea of a “pure theory” nor glorifed it by making it autonomous. Rather, they made it a component in a
process that is motivated by the spiritual goal of self-knowledge. Basic to
the metaphysical theories of the classical schools of Indian philosophy is
the distinction between the self and the not-self, and the goal of removing
suffering through the cultivation of self-knowledge.
At the same time, parallel to this spiritual pursuit, there is also a naturalistic/materialistic component of each darśana. So, there are two independent strands of thought: The naturalistic/materialistic and the
spiritualistic. These two strands eventually merged, each retaining its
own identity while infuencing the other. It may be a more authentic characterization of Indian philosophical thought to say that a reconciliation
of the two seeming opposites, “nature” and “spirit,” is what it aimed at—
analogously to the opposition between theory and practice.
Ethics in the Hindu context parallels Hegel’s concept of Sittlichkeit, i.e.,
the actual order of norms, duties, and virtues that a society values. In
classical Western moral philosophy, the task of ethics is to legitimize
and ground our moral beliefs on the basis of fundamental principles
(e.g., Kant’s principle of universalizability without contradiction, Mill’s
principle of utility, etc.), Hindu ethical philosophies do not give a supreme principle of morality to legitimize all ethical choices, but rather
cover a large spectrum of issues, encompassing within its fold a theory
of virtues, a theory of rules, the ideal of doing one’s duty for duty’s sake,
actual norms, customs, and social practices that an individual in society
cherishes.
The following are some of the maxims that the classical darśanas generally
followed.7 The list is by no means exhaustive.
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Maxims
1 The same thing cannot both be an agent and the object of an action.
2 Contradictories cannot occupy the same place (and locus) at the
same time.
3 Every event must have a cause.
4 Every event must produce an effect.
5 No action is lost without producing an effect.
6 Nothing arises without having a cause.
7 Knowledge is freedom; it transforms the knower.
8 Desire is the cause of bondage.
9 Freedom from the chain of birth and death is possible.
10 Something cannot come out of nothing.
11 What exists cannot disappear without any residue.
(Note: 3–6 defne the universality of the principle of cause and effect,
and 10–11 state the eternity of being/non-being. Each of these maxims was changed, reformulated, and some almost rejected, viz., in
Buddhism.)
14 In addition to such specifc maxims, darśanas have their own thematic
and operative concepts. Here I am following Eugen Fink’s thesis that in
a system there are concepts that are used but not thematized. He argues
that just as a thing when illuminated casts its own shadow, thematization
produces non-thematic concepts. He calls such concepts “operative” concepts.8 In the darśanas, some of the important thematic concepts are: “being,” “existence,” “reality-appearance,” “truth-error,” “method-spirit,”
“world-beyond,” “the locus and its object,” “the pure-impure,” “self and liberation,” etc. Some of the important operative concepts are: “subject-object
distinction,” “inter-subjectivity principle” (understanding and knowing the
other), “relation between language and thought,” “preservation of thought
and practices across time constituting a tradition,” etc.
15 There is no doubt that Indian philosophy (as also religion) does contain
the idea of Īśvara, bhagavāna, or sag uṇa brahman as the creator of the universe. But even where the idea appears (as in the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika and
the Vedānta), the function of God, his “omnipotence” is limited by the
eternity of fnite souls, the law of karma and rebirth, and the belief in the
possibility of “mok ṣa.” Consequently, one does not fnd the idea of creation
out of nothing.
16 The early Sanskrit philosophical texts always took the form of a disputation between a real or imagined opponent and a proponent, the author
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himself. Indian philosophers usually employed three philosophical
methods:
1
2
3
Logical arguments in favor of one’s own position and against the
opponent’s position;
phenomenological evidence in support of one’s position and against
the opponent’s position; and
a hermeneutical method to determine what the texts, especially the
Vedic texts, mean.
A cursory glance at these features of the darśanas leaves no doubt whatsoever
that the darśanas were concerned with the philosophical problems: The nature
of reality and the nature and sources of cognition, logic, ethics, the status of
the empirical self, and so forth. These darśanas had a certain acceptance of the
relation between the theoretical and the spiritual, and a certain conception
of being from within the bounds of a tradition. Philosophy in the Indian tradition was not simply an intellectual luxury, a mere conceptual hair-splitting,
or an attempt to win an argument or to defeat an opponent, though all these
excesses characterized many works of Indian philosophy. Underlying them,
there was an awareness of a thorough process of thinking toward a distant
goal on the horizon for the individual person and, perhaps, for humankind
overall.
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Part IV
NON-VEDIC DAR Ś ANAS
Indian Materialism: The Lokāyata/Cārvāka
Darśana and the Śramaṇas
The Jaina Darśana
The Bauddha Darśana
5
IN DI A N M ATER I A L ISM
The Lok āyata/Cārvāka Darśana and the
Śramaṇas
I Introduction
Many scholars hold that “the materialistic School of thought in India was
as vigorous and comprehensive as materialistic philosophy in the modern
world.”1 There is no need to enter into a discussion of this claim in this chapter.
For our purposes, it is suffcient to note that, originally there were two trends
in Indian thought: The materialistic and the spiritualistic. Of these two trends,
it is the latter which came to fruition in the Vedas and the Upaniṣads, and we
will have ample reasons to become acquainted with it in the chapters to follow;
the former, however, is a neglected story, though the germs of the materialistic
philosophy are found in the Upaniṣadic literature, e.g., in the Uddālaka conception that mind is created out of the fnest essence of food,2 in the Indra-Prajāpati
dialogue that the self is identical with the body,3 in the early Buddhist literature,4 and in the repudiation of afterlife in the Kaṭha5 and the Maitr ī Upani ṣads.6
The materialistic tendencies, better yet, naturalistic tendencies,7 left a permanent mark on Indian thought. Naturalistic tendencies infuenced and greatly
shaped such powerful systems as Nyāya, Vaiśeṣika, and Sāṃ khya—although
these sought to combine both naturalistic and spiritualistic tendencies.
In this chapter, I will discuss the Lok āyatas, the Cārvākas, and the Śramanas
̣ .
These are ancient schools that antedate or were contemporaneous with the
rise of Buddhism. The Buddhist texts, especially the Pāli Nikāyas, are excellent
sources of our knowledge of the Lok āyatas, but more particularly of the śramaṇas.
II The Lokāyatas
The name lok āyata is very old. It is found in Kautilya’s Artha śāstra 8 where it is
construed as ānvῑk ṣik ῑ. Buddhaghosa says that “the lok āyata is a textbook of the
Vita ṇḍā s (sophists),”9 meaning that it discusses tricky disputation, sophistry
or casuistry, that the non-Buddhists practiced.10 S. N. Dasgupta notes that
lok āyata is as old as the Vedas, and it is quite likely that it was pre-Aryans.11
The word “lok āyata” has been variously translated as that which is “prevalent in the common world,” “the basis of the foolish and the profane world,” a
“commoner” or “a person of low and unrefned taste,” etc.12 No lok āyata texts
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have survived. Tucci, however, argues that from the fact that no lok āyata text
is extant, one cannot conclude that no lok āyata text ever existed.13 Dasgupta
echoes similar sentiments when he notes that a commentary on Lok āyata śāstra
by Bhāgur ī with its commentary existed in ancient times, though it is diffcult to say anything about the author of Lok āyata śāstra.14 Scattered references
to Lok āyata are found in the Vedic darśanas. On the basis of these “available
fragments,” Bhattacharya concludes that “the C ārvā ka/Lok āyata system had
developed along the same lines as M īmāṃsā, Vedānta, Nyāya, and Vaiśeṣika.”
He further adds that there “was a base text” consisting of “s ūtras or aphorisms,” and many commentaries were composed to elucidate these s ūtras.15
In the second act of the allegorical play Prabodahcandrodayam, the teachings
of the lok āyatas are summed up as follows:
Lok āyata is the only śāstra; perception is the only source of knowledge; earth, water, fre, and air are the only elements; artha and k āma
are the only two goals of human life; consciousness (in the body) is
produced by earth, water, fre, and air. Mind is only a product of
matter. There is no other world. Only death is mok ṣa. On our view,
Vācaspati (Bṛhaspati), after composing this important śāstra, in accordance with our likings (inclinations), dedicated it to the Cārvā kas,
who spread it through his students and students of the students.16
The Lok āyatas were around during the time of the rise of Buddhism and were
known and condemned as being the “abusers of the Vedas,” “negativists,”
“deniers of the after-world.” Their teachings seem to have two aspects: On
the one hand, they indulged in destructive arguments, and, on the other
hand, they were clearly connected with the practice of statecraft and politics.
It seems their original interest was practical: Denial of the authority of the
Vedas, of “another world,” i.e., of life after death, the denial of morality (“no
good or bad”), the rejection of the idea of God, of reward and punishment,
and the elevation of the absolute monarch to the status of the wise person.
The art of sophistry and negative disputation gradually came to be a system of
philosophy with its own metaphysics and epistemology and came to be known
as the Lok āyata/C ārvā ka darśana.
III The Cārvāka Darśana
In the history of Indian philosophy, the C ārvā ka darśana is associated with
materialism.17 Cārvā ka, traditionally classifed as a n āstika school, is the most
radical of the Indian philosophical schools. It denies the authority of the
Vedas, excessive ritualism, rejects the Hindu immortal soul, the existence of
another world, i.e., life after death, the distinction between good and bad,
the doctrine of karma, and supernaturalism. It accepts perception as the only
pram āṇa, embraces hedonism, supports philosophical skepticism, takes the
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entire material world as consisting of four material elements. Consciousness,
Cārvā kans argue, resides in the body; it is co-extensive with the body and
perishes when the body perishes.
The history of the school is uncertain. It is diffcult to say whether there was
a historical person named Cārvā ka. Sarvadarśanasa ṃgraha states that a sage
named “C ārvā ka,” the disciple of Bṛhaspati, founded this school.18 Bṛhaspati
is equated with Vācaspati, the eponymous founder of the C ārvā ka school
of Indian philosophy.19 MBH mentions the name C ārvā ka.20 Bṛhaspati is
equated with the teacher of gods who put forward materialism among the
demons in order to ruin them. Bhattacharya notes that the school
known fnally as the C ārvā ka/Lok āyata did not fourish before the
sixth century CE or a bit later. It is only from the eighth century CE
that the name C ārvā ka is associated with a materialist school (some
later writers such as Śāntarak ṣita and Śa ṅ kara continued to call it
Lok āyata). Both names, however, came to refer to the same school of
thought after the eighth century CE.21
There is a difference of opinion regarding the original meaning of the word
“Cārvāka.” Etymologically, Cārvāka is derived from “carv” meaning “to eat” or
“to chew” and vāk = word; so, the term describes a materialist who taught hedonism, enjoy this life, there is nothing beyond. Alternately, the name “Cārvāka”
may also mean the words that are pleasant to hear (cāru = nice or sweet).
Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Perception, the only means of true cognition.
Consciousness is an epiphenomenon of the body.
Material world is made of four material elements, viz., earth, water,
fre, and air.
There is no soul, after-life, and God.
There is no law of karma.
Hedonism is the standard of morality. Pleasure is the only thing
desirable as an end.
There is no heaven and hell.
The life ends in death, which is mok ṣa.
Irrespective of the meaning of the word “c ārv ā ka,” tradition maintains
that another name for this school is Lok ā yata (based on the etymology:
loka + ayata, “prevalent in the world”) and its followers are known as
“lok āyatikas.” 22
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As materialism developed from being a general denial of all morality to being
a well-argued philosophy with its logic, epistemology, and ethics, Cārvākas came
to be recognized as philosophers and continued through the ages to be included
among the classical darśanas. Their negativist rhetoric of deriding the Vedic beliefs
changed into a philosophical style. It is quite possible that the negative portrayal
of the Cārvāka school has been exaggerated because no lokāyata texts with the exception of the Tattvopaplavasiṃha (“the lion that throws overboard all categories”)
have survived.23 Regarding the Tattvopaplavasiṃha (TPS), its editors hold that this
text more precisely belongs to a “particular division”24 of the Cārvāka school and
that this work carries the skeptical tendencies of the Cārvāka school “to its logical end.”25 Bhattacharya, on the other hand, holds that TPS is not a Cārvāka/
Lokāyata work: It represents the view of a totally different school that challenged
the very concept of pram āṇa (means of knowledge).26
In reviewing the philosophical doctrines of the C ārvā ka school, we must
keep in mind that the primary sources of our information are the writings of
the opponents of C ārvā ka who sought to refute or ridicule it. It is unfortunate
that we have no choice but to rely on such accounts.
My exposition in this chapter will primarily be based upon such doxographic writings as Madhva’s Sarvadarśanasa ṃgraha (SDS),27 which portrays
C ārvā kas as hedonists, and materialists, and calls this school “the crest-gem
of the atheistic school.”28 In the opening paragraph, Madhva states, “The
efforts of the Chārvā ka are indeed hard to be eradicated, for the majority of
living beings hold by the current refrain—
While life is yours, live joyously;
None can escape Death’s searching eye;
When once this frame of ours they burn;
How shall it e’er again return?”29
It is not surprising that Madhva at the outset of his work presents C ārvā ka in a
very unfavorable light, and sets up an adversarial tone vis-à-vis the brāhma ṇical
tradition. The passage highlights and brings to the forefront the opposition
between the C ārvā ka and the other schools of Indian philosophy. For example, the brāhma ṇical schools accept the four goals of life, after-life, the soul that
survives the body, and the eradication of pain by mok ṣa. The C ārvā kas, on
the other hand, propound a crude or unrefned form of hedonism, soul, and
identify death with mok ṣa.
Epistemology
Madhva’s account of C ārvā ka epistemology may be summed up in the following words:
1
2
Perception is the only valid source of knowledge.
Neither inference nor testimony is a valid source of knowledge.
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I N DI A N M ATER I A L ISM
3
4
5
The self is the body.
Consciousness arises from a combination of natural elements.
There is no dormant consciousness in the fetus; consciousness does not
continue after death.
Pram āṇas30 (Means of Valid Knowledge or True
Cognition) in the Nine Schools of Indian Philosophy
Notwithstanding the differences among the different schools of Indian
philosophy regarding the nature, number, and function of the pram āṇas,
it would be helpful to provide a listing of the pram āṇas recognized by the
nine schools of Indian philosophy:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
C ārvā ka
Jainism
Buddhism
Vaiśeṣika
Sāṃ khya
Yoga
Nyāya
8 Vedānta (Advaita)
Perception
Perception, Inference, and Testimony
Perception and Inference
Perception and Inference
Perception, Inference, and Testimony
Perception, Inference, and Testimony
Perception, Inference, Comparison, and
Testimony
Perception, Inference, Comparison, Testimony, Postulation, and Non-perception
9 M īmāṃsā
• Bhāṭṭ a
• Prābhā kara
Perception, Inference, Comparison, Testimony, Postulation, and Non-perception
Perception, Inference, Comparison,
Testimony, and Postulation
The C ārvā kas argue that perception is the only means of knowing the truth:
Whatever is available to sense-perception is true; whatever is not, is doubtful.
In order to defend this fundamental epistemological position, they reject inference, testimony, and comparison as pram āṇas.
They reject inference (anum āna) because there is no suffcient ground for
ascertaining the truth of vyāpti (universal concomitance).
Madhva states:
Those who maintain the authority of inference accept the sign or
middle term as the causer of knowledge, which middle term must
be found in the minor and be itself invariably connected with the
major. Now this invariable connection must be a relation destitute
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of any condition accepted or disputed; and this connection does
not possess its power of causing inference by virtue of its existence, as the eye, &c., are the cause of perception, but by virtue
of its being known. What then is the means of this connection’s
being known?31
Let me give an illustrative example: “on perceiving smoke on a hill, one infers
that there is fre.” The inference assumes the following form:
All cases of smoke are cases of fre.
The hill is a case of smoke.
Therefore, the hill is a case of fre.
This inference is based on the vyāpti: “wherever there is smoke, there is fre.”
The C ārvā kas ask: How does one determine the validity of the universal major premise, i.e., the universal relation of co-existence between the major
term (e.g., “fre”) and the middle term (e.g., “smoke”)? They state that such
a universal relation can never be established. 32 The vyāpti can be established only when the invariable and unconditional concomitance is known
to exist between the fre and the smoke in such a way that in every case
when the smoke is present the fre is also present. They challenge the cognitive feasibility of proceeding from the known to the unknown. In other
words, inference proceeds from the observed to the unobserved, and there
is no guarantee that what is true of the perceived cases will also be true of
the unperceived cases. Madhva argues that perception can only determine
what we perceive now, but it cannot provide us with the necessary connection required for a valid inference. Perception of two things together does
not establish a causal relation between them. 33 Our observation of a large
number of cases of concomitance cannot eliminate the possibility of a future
failure. Nor can a vyāpti be established by inference because inference itself
is dependent upon the universal concomitance. To say that we can determine a vyāpti by inference is to open the doors to infnite regress. Madhva
further argues: Inference cannot “be the means of the knowledge of the universal proposition, since in the case of this inference we should also require
another inference to establish it, and so on, and hence there would arise the
fallacy of an ad infinitum retrogression.”34
Śabda (verbal testimony) and upam āna (comparison) also cannot help us determine the relation of universal concomitance because knowledge generated
by śabda and upam āna presupposes inference. So Madhva concludes: “Hence
by the impossibility of knowing the universality of a proposition it becomes
impossible to establish inference, &c.”35 We can only determine with a higher
degree of probability, never with certainty, what is to be true in all cases.
Thus, depending as it does on the apprehension of a vyāpti, anum āna is not a
pram āṇa (means of true cognition).
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The C ā rv ā ka critique extends to include śabda as a pram āṇa, because its
validity is ascertained by inference. Additionally, the Vedic testimony has
no cognitive value. Vedic v ākyas (sentences) are simply the idle utterances of
the brahmins who sought to serve their own interests. All their words about
“merit” and “demerit,” life after death, and sacrifces are completely useless
from the cognitive point of view. In short, śabda also fails to deliver certain
knowledge.
By rejecting anum āna, C ārvā kas place themselves in a precarious situation,
because any proof they give to prove the validity of their own position would
require some sort of inference. How can C ārvā kas prove that perception is
the only pram āṇa? At this juncture, C ārvā kas realize that there are only two
alternatives open to them: Either accept the validity of inference as a means of
true cognition or refuse to recognize perception as a source of true cognition.
Both these positions have in fact been taken, the frst by Purandara and the
second by Jayarāśi Bhāṭṭ a.
Purandara, 36 a seventh-century C ā rv ā ka, accepts inference to strengthen
perceptual beliefs and argues that it absolutely has no power to yield any
knowledge of what lies beyond the limits of sensory perception, for example,
the existence of life after death.37 Perhaps the rationale behind maintaining
the distinction between the usefulness of inference in our everyday experience
and in ascertaining truths beyond perceptual experience lies in the fact that
an inductive generalization is made by observing a large number of cases of
agreement in presence and agreement in absence, and since agreement in
presence cannot be observed in the transcendental world assuming such a
world exists, no inductive generalization relating to such a world can be made.
Jayarāśi Bhāṭṭ a, argues that there is no valid ground for accepting perception as the only source of true knowledge, because perception itself cannot be
regarded as the means for ascertaining the validity of perception. Jayarāśi not
only attacks the C ārvā ka account, he also demonstrates the invalidity of all the
pram āṇas accepted by such Indian philosophical schools as Nyāya, M īmāmṣā,
Sāṃ khya, and Buddhism, and challenges the validity of the theories of knowledge put forward by them.38 He further argues that there is no valid ground
for accepting the existence of material elements, because if perception is the
only source of true cognition, how can one be certain that perception reveals
the true nature of objects? So, he not only argues for the invalidity of all the
pram āṇas but also the consequent invalidity of all metaphysical principles and
categories. Thus, the title Tattvopaplavsi ṃha is highly appropriate as the main
thesis of the book demonstrates the impossibility of establishing the truth of
any view of reality.
Metaphysics
The C ārvā kas use their logical-epistemological thesis that perception is the
only pram āṇa to support their metaphysical position, viz., everything arises
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out of the combination of the four elements. These four elements constitute
everything including self or consciousness. Their core metaphysical doctrines
may be stated as follows:
1
2
3
Earth, water, fre, and air are the only realities.
Consciousness arises from these elements in the same way as the intoxicating nature of a drink arises when elements are combined, though each
element separately does not have that power to intoxicate.
The so-called self or puru ṣa is nothing but the body possessed of
consciousness.
Regarding #1, it is worth noting that the C ārvā kas do not include āk āśa or
“ether” as one of the elements in their list, since it cannot be cognized by
sense-perception. Accordingly, they hold that all objects are composed of the
above-listed four perceptible elements. It includes both animate and nonanimate objects.
With regard to #2, the C ārvā kas argue that we perceive consciousness as
existing in the body, therefore, it must be a property of the body. In response
to the question, how can the four non-conscious elements when combined
produce consciousness, the C ārvā kas state that just as intoxicating quality is
produced during fermentation when yeast come in contact with the natural
grape, sugar, water, etc.; similarly, consciousness arises when the four material
elements are combined in a special way, though none of the four elements
possess consciousness.39 In other words, consciousness is a by-product or the
epiphenomenon of matter. There is no difference between the soul and the
body; the soul is identical with the body.
The C ārvā kas use #3 to reject both the Hindu belief in an eternal self and
the Buddhist thesis that self is nothing but a series of impermanent states in
rapid succession. When a person dies, nothing survives. What people generally mean by the soul is a body with consciousness. Whereas we do not perceive any disembodied soul, we do directly perceive the self as identical with
the body in our daily experiences. Such judgments as “I am white,” “I am
short,” “I am thin,” bear testimony to the fact that the self is not different
from the body.
Other schools of philosophy, especially the Naiy āyikas, subjected the two
C ā rv ā ka theses—consciousness is generated by four elements, and that self
is not different from the conscious body—to a devastating attack. While
subscribing to the C ā rv ā ka thesis that quality cannot have an independent
existence of its own, the Naiy āyikas40 argue that if none of the elements
have the property of consciousness, their co-existence cannot produce it. It
is absurd to say that consciousness originates when the material elements
are combined in a defnite proportion. It is indeed true that when grapes,
etc., are combined in a certain order intoxicating quality originates, which
is found in the smallest quantity of wine; however, consciousness is never
found when the parts of a body are separated, say, in an arm of the body,
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or a leg of the body. In other words, the material body cannot be the locus
of consciousness; it can only belong to a conscious self. Moreover, in the
state of swoon or coma, there is no consciousness but the self continues to
exist. There is no evidence that with the death of the body, the self also
ceases to be. The C ā rv ā ka, in its epistemology, depends upon perception,
but no perceptual evidence establishes that with death, the self also becomes
extinct. Nor can the C ā rv ā ka use inference or any other form of reasoning
to substantiate his position because he has already rejected inference as a
pram āṇa. Indeed, the C ā rv ā ka critique of inference itself makes use of inference, and in so doing becomes guilty of self-contradiction. Additionally,
how can C ā rv ā kas reject śabda as a pram āṇa, when they depend upon the
words of their predecessors, teachers, etc.?41
In the face of such criticisms, the C ārvā kas modify #3, i.e., that self is nothing but the body possessed of consciousness, to 31 as follows.
31 It is the functioning sense organs that constitute the self. However, realizing that since there are many sense organs, some of which may be
defcient (for example, eyes being blind), it would amount to saying that
the self of a person are many, and, at times, in confict with each other,
they again modify their position to 32.
2
3 The self is the body with the prāṇa (life-force) in it, which is due to the
intersection of the body with the environment outside. This allows them
to speak of one’s self in each body as well as of many instruments of experiencing, e.g., the visual, tactual, auditory, and taste sense organs. The
life-force, the prāṇa, when inside a body, becomes “conscious,” but upon
leaving the body, like the air outside, becomes unconscious. However, this
would imply that there are different kinds of life-breath and that each of
these constitutes a distinct self. Additionally, the breath, being exhaled
out every moment, could not be the self. The C ārvā kas again change
their position as 33.
3
3 The self is manas (mind); consciousness is located in the manas (which experiences pleasure and pain, and whose properties are desire, jealousy,
etc.). There is one manas in each body. But manas being subtle, i.e., lacking as it does gross dimension, cannot be perceived, which would make
pleasure, pain, etc.—that belong to it—imperceptible. Additionally, if the
self is the manas, it could not have the sense of “I.” All these criticisms
lead the philosophers to posit a self as distinct from the body, the sense
organs, the life force, and the manas. Sadānanda in his Ved āntasāra notes
that there were four schools of C ārvā ka: One school takes self to be identical with the body; the second with the vital breath; the third with the
sense-faculties, and the fourth with the mind.42 The distinction is based
on the different conceptions of self where each succeeding view is more
refned than the preceding one. However, all schools agree that self is a
by-product of the matter. There is no transcendental being or god. There
is no heaven or hell; life ends in death. Consciousness originates with a
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specifc concatenation of the four physical elements known as the living
body and disappears when these four elements disassociate.
I will conclude this section with the following remarks. In reading C ārvā ka,
the readers must not lose sight of the following: (1) lack of extant texts makes
it diffcult to ascertain with certainty the views C ārvā ka actually held; (2) our
knowledge of their doctrines is primarily drawn from their opponents who
ridiculed and criticized them; and (3) most schools of Indian philosophy took
great pains to answer C ārvā ka objections, which brought the critical spirit
and rigor of the Indian classical schools to the forefront.43
II The Śramaṇas
The voice of the C ārvā kas was the voice of protest against excessive ritualism, superstitions, and exploitation by the brāhmi ṇs. It is worth noting that the
C ārvā ka was not the only school to voice its protest against the brāhma ṇism.
There was the reaction of the local self-governing republican communities
against the monarchical systems which the brāhma ṇism of the Vedas and the
Upaniṣads had glorifed. However, by the sixth century BCE, another class
of philosophers had exercised a tremendous infuence on the Indian tradition.
As the Vedic culture originating in the Eastern valley began to spread eastward along the Gangetic plains, there arose a reaction against many of its
excesses. This reaction was as much religious as it was social and political. It
was a time of great upheaval and turmoil in India. The old structures of tribunal republics had begun to break down, and new kingdoms had begun to take
shape. There was a great deal of uncertainty; old ways were being replaced
by the new ones. Many wandering ascetics and mendicants, with different
philosophical and religious ideas, had begun to establish their authority and
superiority. These people did not belong to a specifc class, though they provided a formidable challenge to the authority of the brāhmins.
Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Experience is the only source of knowledge.
There is no ātman; there is no brahman.
The universe is not created by god or any supernatural power.
Vedic ritualism is useless.
Heaven and hell are invented by deceitful brāhmi ṇs.
There is no after-life.
There is no law of karma.
There is no distinction between good and bad.
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In general, this class of teachers and philosophers lived the lives of wandering mendicants, rejected the Vedic proliferation of deities and ritualism, the
Upaniṣadic conception of the ātman and the brahman, the doctrine of rebirth
and karma, the effcacy of action, the domination of the priestly class, the distinction between good and bad, and argued that heaven and hell were invented by deceitful brāhmi ṇs in order to exploit people to earn their livelihood.
These wanderers were known as the “śrama ṇas” (recluses).
Much controversy surrounds the śrama ṇas of the Indian tradition. We do
not know about their social origin. This group of wanderers rejected the
Vedic deities, brāhma ṇism, i.e., the conceptions of ātman, brahman, karma, and
rebirth, but otherwise differed a great deal among themselves. We, however,
know that they abandoned their family lives and offered alternative ways of
knowing the truth. In general, they appealed to experience as the source of
knowledge, and, in so appealing, aligned themselves with the empiricists. Regarding the nature of the universe, their views varied considerably, however,
they believed that the universe is not created by any supernatural power or
god. They subscribed to a sort of the naturalistic conception of the universe
insofar as they believed that within nature there are different reals: Matter,
life, mind, etc.; there is nothing beyond nature.
The reference of the śrama ṇas (from “śram” meaning “to exert”) or those
“who practice religious exertions” is found as early as the BU, where it occurs
alongside t āpasa (from “tapa” meaning “to warm”) or who practice religious
austerities implying that the śrama ṇas, like the t āpasas, belonged to a class of religious ascetics.44 Numerous references to śrama ṇas are found throughout the
Buddhist texts, both earlier and later. It is diffcult to ascertain with certainty
whether the “śrama ṇas” of the BU refer to the śrama ṇas found in the Buddhist
literature.
The oldest Buddhist records, i.e., the P āli Nik āyas, mention that the Buddha
met some of them to discuss their views. Each of these śrama ṇas had many lay
and ascetic followers. The Buddhist text S āmaññaphala Sutta (“Fruits of the life
of a śrama ṇa”) provides a description of the six śrama ṇas of the pre-Buddhist
India in the course of a dialogue between Ajātaśatru, the king of Magadha,
and the Buddha.45 The text lists six śrama ṇas: P ū ra ṇa Kassapa, Makkhali
Gosā la, Ajita Keśakambali, Pakudha Kaccāyana, Niganṭha Nātaputta, and
Sañjay Belaṭṭhiputta.
P ū ra ṇa Kassapa was an antinomian who denied all moral distinctions between good and bad. He held that theft, murder, and robbery are not bad,
and acts of charity and sacrifce are not good. He argues, “In generosity, in
self-mastery, in control of the senses, in speaking the truth, there is neither
merit nor increase of merit.”46 His theory is known as the “no-action” theory
(akriyāvāda). The soul does not act, so no merit accrues to a person from sacrifces, just as no demerit arises from the so-called bad actions. There is no
cause and condition for knowledge and insight.47 The P āli epithet “p ūra ṇa”
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means “complete” or “perfect”; accordingly, P ū ra ṇa’s followers believed that
he had attained perfect knowledge or wisdom.
Makkhali Gośā la, the leader of the Ājīvika sect, was a contemporary of
Mahāvira, the twenty-fourth perfect soul of Jainism. Pāṇ ini48 notes that
Makkhali or maskarin wandered here and there carrying a maskara (bamboo
staff). Makkhali taught that neither purity nor sufferings of men have any
cause and that one’s actions have no effcacy, power, or energy. There are no
moral obligations. He denied karma and agreed with P ū ra ṇa that good deeds
have no bearing on transmigration which is governed by “niyati” (fate), a rigid
cosmic principle.
The attainment of any given condition, of any character does not depend either on one’s own acts, or on the acts of another, or on human
effort. There is no such thing as power or energy, or human strength
or human vigour …. They are bent this way and that by their fate,
by the necessary conditions of the class to which they belong, by their
individual nature: and it is according to their position in one or other
of the six classes that they experience ease or pain.49
One often hears that Ājīvikas followed severe ascetic practices. They gave up
household life, covered their bodies with a kind of mat, carried a bunch of peacock feathers, abstained from taking ghee and sweets, and practiced begging.
It is diffcult to determine why the Ājīvikas prescribed moral observances as
well as also denied their value. Makkhali himself observed religious practices,
not as a means of attaining mok ṣa, but to gain a livelihood. Ajita Keśakambali
is taken to be the earliest representative of materialism in India. He was called
“ke śakambali,” because he wore a blanket of hair on his body. He—in addition
to denying moral distinctions, “merit” and “demerit”—taught that there is
neither this world nor the other world, there are no recluses, no brāhma ṇas in
this world, who after reaching the highest “walk perfectly, and who having
understood and realised, by themselves alone, both this world and the next,
make their wisdom known to others.”50
A human being consists of the four elements, viz., earth, water, fre, and
air, and after death, these elements return to the original elements (earthy to
earth, the fuid to the water, the heat to the fre, the wind to the air, and his
faculties (the fve senses and the mind) pass into space. 51 As a corollary to his
metaphysics of materialism, in terms of ethical teachings, Ajit held that there
is no merit in offering sacrifces, there is no life after death, and no one passes
from this life to the next. Good deeds do not give rise to any result (phala). No
ascetic has reached perfection by purifying the mind, following the right path,
and has experienced this world and the next world.
Pakudha Kaccāyana, argued that there are seven things which are neither
made nor “caused to be made.” The four elements, i.e., earth, water, fre, and
air, are the roots of all things. These elements do not change qualitatively,
meaning thereby that they are permanent; they unite as well as separate
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without human intervention, i.e., without any volitional activity. In addition
to these unchangeable entities, of the three additional elements, viz., pleasure,
pain, and soul, pleasure and pain are the two elements of change and bring
the four elements together along the lines of Vaiśeṣika adṛṣṭa. Finally, the soul
is the living principle, prāṇa (vital breath), or what we understand by “ jīvātm ā”;
there is nothing transcendent. Pakudha is taken to be the forerunner of the
Hindu Vaiśeṣika school.52
Niganṭha Nātaputta is another śrama ṇa discussed in this text. “Niganṭha”
means “a man free from bonds”; he is self-restrained. A nigan ṭha “lives restrained as regards all water; restrained as regards all evil; all evil has he
washed away; and he lives suffused with the sense of evil held at bay. Such is
his fourfold restraint.”53
Sañjay Belaṭṭhiputta denies the possibility of certain knowledge: “If you ask
me whether there is another world—well, if I thought there were, I would say
so. But I don’t think, it is thus or thus. And I don’t think it is otherwise. And
I don’t deny it. And I don’t say there neither is, nor is not, another world.”54
It is quite possible that Sañjay was the frst to formulate the four-fold logic of
existence, non-existence, both, and neither.
These śrama ṇas with the exception of Niganṭha Nātaputta directly or indirectly deny the moral basis of karma and mok ṣa. Ajita Keśakambali (ke śa = hair,
kambala = blanket) propounded materialism, and may very well have been the
forerunner of the C ārvā ka in India. Gośā la is taken to be the founder of the
school known as Ājīvikas. Sañjay, the agnostic, may be the teacher of Sāriputta,
one of the famous disciples of the Buddha. Niganṭha Nātaputta or Mahāv īra
is associated with Jainism. Jayatilleke argued that in order to do justice to the
doctrine of the skeptics, he will use Ājīvikas to denote those śrama ṇas “who were
neither Jainas, Materialists, or Sceptics.”55
The Jaina tradition portrays Gośā la, an ascetic, as a person of a low family
born in a cow-shed (go- śala). Apparently, Gośā la once approached Mah āv ī ra
and expressed his desire to become Mah āv ī ra’s disciple; Mahāv ī ra, however,
refused to accept him. Imitating Mahāvira, Gośala became a naked man
and declared himself to be a “ j īna,” “a victor,” a t īrtha ṇkara (a person who
has mastered all passions and attained omniscience). Mah āv ī ra exposed
Gośā la’s true nature for who he was, that he was a fake and declared that
he, Mahāv ī ra, was the only true j īna, not Gośala. He is said to have codifed
the Āj īvikas six factors of life: Gain/loss, joy/sorrow, and life/death. It is diffcult to say with absolute certainty whether the Jaina account of Go śala is
correct, but there is no doubt that the Buddhists took the Āj īvikas to be their
main rival because they practiced extreme self-mortifcation and rejected
the Buddha’s Middle Way. In P ā li Nik āyas, one frequently comes across such
compounds as śrama ṇa-brāhma ṇa which refers to two different groups of holy
ascetics, the former denoting ascetics of all affliations and the latter denoting only the upholders of the Vedic tradition. It is worth noting that the
brāhma ṇas were never referred to as śrama ṇas and the Buddha was referred to
as mah ā (great) śrama ṇa.
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The rise of the śrama ṇas marks the end of the Vedic period, the beginning
of the Upaniṣadic era, and a confict between the śrama ṇas and the brāhma ṇic
philosophies. The śrama ṇas became a powerful force in India of those days;
their voice was the voice of protest to get rid of the oppression of the past and
embrace different perspectives. The emergence and the rise of Jainism and
Buddhism provides an eloquent testimony to their infuence, and I will discuss
these schools next.
Study Questions
1. Explain the C ārvā ka materialism. The Cārvā ka school argues that consciousness arises from a combination of the natural elements. Argue for
or against this thesis.
2. Explain C ārvā ka epistemology. The school recognizes perception (pratyak ṣa) alone as a reliable source of knowledge. Given that the Cārvā kans
do not recognize inference as a valid source, how can they claim that
perception is the only source of valid knowledge? Discuss critically.
3. Discuss the hedonistic ethics of C ārvā ka. Does it appeal to you? Give
reasons for your answer.
4. Who were the śrama ṇas? Discuss the central theses of the six śrama ṇas
discussed in this chapter. Why are they important in the history of Indian
philosophy?
Suggested Readings
Readers seeking an introduction to C ārvā ka will proft from, Daksinaranjan Sastri, A Short History of Indian Materialism (Calcutta: The Book Company, Ltd., 1957); Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya, Lok āyata: A Study in Ancient
Materialism (Bombay: People’s Publishing House, 1959); S. N. Dasgupta,
A History of Indian Philosophy (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1975), Vol. 3,
pp. 512–550; Ramkrishna Bhattacharya, “What the C ārvā kas Originally
Meant: More on the Commentators on the ‘C ārvākas ūtra,’” Journal of Indian Philosophy, Vol. 38, No. 6, December 2010, pp. 529–542; and E. B.
Cowell and A. E. Gouch (tr.), Madhva, Sarvadarśanasa ṃgraha, (Vārāṇasi:
Chowkhamba Sanskrit Series, 1978). Eli Franco, Perception, Knowledge, and
Disbelief: A Study of Jayarāśi’s Scepticism (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1994)
contains a very useful introduction, a detailed analysis, and translation
with notes of the frst half of TPS. For śrama ṇas, see B. M. Barua, A History
of Pre-Buddhistic Indian Philosophy (Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1921),
Part III, and A. L. Basham, History and Doctrine of the Ājīvikas: A Vanished
Indian Religion (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1981).
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6
THE JA INA DAR Ś A NA
I Introduction
Many religious and philosophical movements have contributed to the rich
tapestry of Indian philosophical darśanas. Of these, the Jaina darśana, traditionally classifed as a n āstika darśana, is famous for its metaphysical thesis of
anek āntavāda (reality has infnite aspects), the logical thesis of syadvāda (a proposition does not admit of only two truth values—true and false—but seven,
and the doctrine of ahi ṃsā (not only physical non-injury but also intellectual
and psychological non-injury). Jainism is the only philosophical account
known to me that accommodates competing and rival positions while leaving
open the possibility of many other perspectives. The school is also known as
“Śrama ṇism” (a term that is used for all non-brāhma ṇical sects) and “Nigranṭḥism”
(“bondless” because of its emphasis on non-possession, the conquest of unwholesome tendencies, and asceticism).
The extensive Jaina literature is based on the teachings of Mahāv īra (literally the “great hero”), a senior contemporary of the Gautama Buddha. The
term “Jainism” is derived from the Sanskrit root ji, “to conquer,” meaning
the victor who has conquered his desires and passions, destroyed the karmas,
and has become a perfect soul. Not much is known about Mahāv īra’s life. His
given name was Vardhamāna. He was the son of Siddhārtha, a k ṣatriya, chieftain of the Licchavis, born at a place near modern Patna in Bihar, married
a woman named Yaśodā at an early age, had a daughter, and at the age of
twenty-eight left his home and became a mendicant. He led a very austere life
for twelve years and wandered naked in the Gangetic plains. He met Buddha
during his wandering days and discussed his philosophical ideas with him.
Makkhali Gośala, the leader of the Ājīvikas, met Mahāv īra during these years
and witnessed many miracles Mahāv īra had performed. The tradition maintains that during his thirteenth year, after fasting for several weeks, Mahāv īra
became a jina, a “conqueror” or a “spiritual victor.” He became a “t īrtha ṇkara”
(literally “one who makes a ford”), the omniscient one. There is no divine
revelation in Jainism; a jina restores the tradition for succeeding generations.
The tradition’s monastic and lay adherents are called “Jains” (“Followers of
the Conquerors”) or “Jainas.”
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Jainism is a living religion of India. The designation applies to approximately four million members of India’s most ancient śramaṇa tradition. Whereas
Buddhism traveled far and wide outside of India and underwent radical transformations over the centuries, Jainism primarily remained confned to India.
Though there are some Jaina communities outside India, most Jains reside in
India. Its doctrines have remained unchanged, with the exception of minor details. Contrasted with the Buddha’s compassionate nature, Mahāv īra’s doctrines
and practices seem to have been marked by severe austerity, and in the words
of a modern scholar, a “peculiar stiffness”1 characterizes the Jaina doctrines.
The tradition maintains that Mahāvīra is the founder of this school. Given
that he was the twenty-fourth tīrthaṇkara (“ford maker,” a perfect soul, the one
who shows the path across the rounds of rebirths to kevalajñāna), this thesis is technically false. Tradition reckons twenty-three prophets preceding Mahāvīra, who
proclaimed that he is the last, the twenty-fourth, the frst being Ṛṣabhadeva, and
Pārśva the twenty-third, who lived 250 years before Mahāvīra. Pārśva’s monks
observed four vows; namely, ahiṃsā, i.e., the vow of non-injury (non-violence),
satya (the vow of truthfulness), asteyam (the vow of not taking what is not given),
and aprigraha (the vow of abstinence from all attachment). Mahāvīra added the
ffth vow, viz., brahmacarya (celibacy), made nudity mandatory, imposed severe restrictions on everyday activities, and implemented total renunciation. Mahāvīra
taught for thirty years as a tīrthaṇkara and entered nirvāṇa at the age of seventy-two.
He left behind a well-organized Jaina community, thousands of monks,
laymen, and laywomen; it also included many followers of the ancient order
of Pārśva. In due course, the followers of Mahāv īra became the leaders of the
lay Jaina monks. In the frst century CE, the Jaina community was divided
into two sects: The orthodox, practicing the nudity rule of Mahāv īra, came to
be known as “Digambaras” or “space clad” (the fundamentalists, who considered women second class citizens, and held women must be reborn as men to
become a jina, i.e., a “perfect soul”), and Śvēt āmbaras or “white-clad,” (liberals, wearing the white clothes, accepted women in their order, and held that
women can attain liberation).
Jain scriptures are called āgamas, and like the Vedas and the Upanisads, they
were transmitted orally from one generation to the next. Mahavira’s followers
collected and developed his teachings. Initially, the Jaina composed their rules
and teachings in Ardham āgadhī language (prākrit dialect) spoken in the Western
part of India. Later works, however, were composed in Sanskrit. The basic
aphorisms of the school were collected by Um āsvāti (also known as Um āsvāmi,
third CE) in his Tattvārthadhigamas ūtra (also known as Tattvārthas ūtra). Other
important works include: Hemacandra’s Anyayoga-vyavaccheda-dvātri ṃt īk ā
(twelfth century), Malliṣeṇa’s Syadmañjari (thirteenth century), Haribhadra’s
Ṣa ḍdarśanasamuccaya (nineth century CE), and Kundakunda’s Pañcāstik āyasāra,
Pravacanasāra, and Samayasāra (second century CE). My analysis in this chapter is primarily based on Umā svāmi’s Tattvārthadhigamas ūtra/Tattvārthas ūtra. It
presents basic issues of Jainism systematically without jeopardizing its authenticity. Additionally, both Digambaras and Śvēt āmbaras accept the authority
of this text, and claim Umā svāmi or Umā svāti as their own.
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Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
Reality has infnite aspects.
All truths are “relative” to a standpoint.
Every judgment is true from a certain standpoint (relationism).
Perception, inference, and verbal testimony are the only means of
true cognition.
There are souls in every living being.
Each soul can develop infnite consciousness, power, and happiness.
Ahi ṃsā or non-violence is the most important Jaina virtue.
Right faith, right knowledge, and right conduct constitute the path
to mok ṣa.
There is no God.
The philosophical outlook of Jainism is metaphysical realism and pluralism
as it holds that the objects exist independently of our knowledge and perception of them, and these objects are many. Every living being has a soul
and a body. Respect for life, i.e., non-injury to life, plays a central role in its
teachings. Additionally, the importance Jainism places on the respect for the
opinions of others fnds expression in its theory of reality as many-sided or
multiple viewpoints, and (anek āntavāda) leads to its logical doctrine that every
judgment is conditional (syadvāda). Thus, various judgments about the same
reality may be true when each is subjected to its own conditions. I will begin
with Jaina metaphysics.
II Jaina Metaphysics
At the outset, it must be noted that Jaina metaphysics is a thorough-going realism, which is best articulated in the position that whatever is manifested in the
form of a cognition is in the nature of the object of that knowledge. If in a cognition, the form “blue pitcher” is given, then there must be a blue pitcher that
is being manifested. The Jainas take great pains to avoid absolutism and to
demonstrate that everything is relational. Their decisive statement is: a thing
has infinite aspects. In its anek āntavāda or the many-sided conception of reality
(non-absolutism), Jaina philosophers argue that each philosophical position is
true from a certain perspective. They sought to synthesize these perspectives,
not by putting them together as “p and q and r…,” but as alternates (p or
q or r…), each valid from a point of view (naya).
It is important to note in this context that this notion of a “point of view,”
is not subjective; it is an objective point of view. So, the perspectives are all
objective and yield truths that are true, but only within that perspective, not
absolutely. Jainas argue that emphasis on one aspect to the exclusion of others
is analogous to the story of seven blind men who upon seeing an elephant
describe the elephant based on the part (the trunk, the ears, the tail) of the
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elephant they had touched. Each naya is partially true; nonetheless, it yields
true knowledge. These partial cognitions need to be synthesized to get a complete knowledge of the object.
So, for Jainas objects are complex in structure, and to comprehend their
entire nature, they must be examined from various perspectives. The objects
have innumerable characteristics, both positive and negative. For example,
an object, say, a chair, has such positive qualities as shape, weight, color, etc.,
and negative characters, which distinguish it from other objects, say, a table,
a stool, etc. Additionally, over time an object may lose some of its characteristics, assume different characteristics, which makes us realize that an object
really possesses innumerable characteristics. It is not possible for an individual
to know an object in all its characteristics; only omniscient beings possess
knowledge of an object in all its aspects.
The thesis of the infnite characters of an object leads Jaina philosophers
to make a distinction between that which possesses the characteristics and
the characteristics themselves, i.e., between a substance and attributes. Each
substance has two kinds of attributes: Essential and accidental. The essential
characteristics (gu ṇas) of a substance are permanent; they belong to a substance as long as it exists. For example, consciousness is an essential attribute
of the soul. Accidental characteristics, on the other hand, are transitory; they
come and go. Desires, pleasure, pain, etc., are such accidental characteristics of the soul. It is through these accidental characteristics that a substance
undergoes changes and modifcations, and these accidental characteristics
are called “modes” (paryāyas).2 A substance is real; it consists of three factors:
(1) permanence, (2) origination, and (3) decay of changing modes.
Jainas in their metaphysics explain the nature of the universe without resorting to a god as the creator of the world, preserve elements of the theory
of atoms, and construe karmas as subtle matter-particles. The Jainas classify
substances into extended and non-extended. Extended substances are divided
into jīvas (souls, the principle of sentience, consciousness) and ajīvas (insentient
or non-living objects). There are four ajīvas: (1) dharma, the medium of motion,
(2) adharma, the medium of rest,3 (3) āk āśa or space, and (4) pudgala or matter.
K āla or time is the only non-extended substance; extended substances are a
collection of space-points, which time is not. I will quickly review the Jaina
classifcation of substances.
Extended Substances
J īva (Soul)
The soul is not perceived by the outer senses; its existence is inferred. Such experiences of self-awareness as “I am happy,” “I know,” “I believe,”4 testify to
its existence. The soul is different from the body. A dead body does not possess
such properties as knowledge, desires, and feelings. A non-conscious body,
the Jainas argue, cannot be the locus of these properties. A body is composed
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of physical elements. The sense organs are located in the body, and the soul
uses them as instruments to see colors, hear sounds, etc. But the soul in itself
is identical neither with the body nor with the sense organs. Knowledge is the
essence of the jīva (soul); therefore, the soul can know everything directly.5
Sense organs, light, etc., are indirect aids in the production of a cognition
( jñ āna) when the impediments are removed. It is the soul that remembers the
past experiences; so, recollection is not a function of any one of the sense
organs. Were it so, it would not have been possible for a person who now has
become blind to remember his past experience of seeing something (or, if he is
now deaf, say, of past hearing)?
There is an infnite number of souls distinct from the bodies and the sense
organs. One of the unique features of the Jaina conception is the belief that
the soul in its empirical state is capable of expansion and contraction according to the size of the empirical body.6 The Jaina thinkers argue that just as a
lamp illuminates the area, small or large, in which it is placed; similarly, the
soul expands and contracts contingent upon the size of the physical body.
Most Indian thinkers, on the other hand, believe that the soul is not capable
of expansion and contraction.
Past actions yield fruits now or shall yield them in the future, because the
actions now gone, leave their impressions on the soul. Here the Jaina metaphysics comes to its peculiar position where it seems to contradict itself. Karmas
are impressions left behind by actions. These karmas are material, but they are
construed as clinging to the immaterial soul. Karmas in Jainism are construed
on the analogy of atoms; they are tiny material entities, the impressions of
the past actions, and cling to souls. Souls are omniscient and each soul can
attain omniscience only when the veil that conceals the nature of the soul is
removed.7
Souls are classifed into those that transmigrate and those that are liberated. Transmigrating souls are tied to their bodies owing to their karmas.
These souls are either moving or unmoving, depending on the nature of their
bodies. Whereas the immobile souls are one-sensed, the mobile ones are two,
three, four, or fve-sensed. Animals, plants, any particle of the matter of earth,
water, fre, and wind also possess souls.
Aj īvas (Insentient or Non-living Objects)
1
Dharma and 2. adharma are not taken in their usual senses of virtue and
vice respectively, but rather as the conditions of movement and rest respectively.8 They are eternal and passive extended substances. These two
pervade the entire mundane space. Though these two substances are not
perceived, they are postulated to explain the possibility of motion and
rest that we perceive in our daily lives.9 It seemed to Jaina thinkers that
since the world is constituted of atoms, these material elements would get
scattered and distributed in the entire space, unless there is a principle
to provide stability to material elements, and adharma is such a principle.
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3
4
They further argue that an opposite principle is needed to explain movements, and dharma is that principle. In the absence of these principles,
there would be no worldly structure, no distinction between loka (this
world) and aloka (beyond this world), no constancy, and there would be
utter chaos.
Āk āśa or space is infnite10 and its function is to accommodate other substances. The Jainas distinguish between two kinds of space: Lived or
mundane space (lok āk āśa), and the space beyond this world (alok āk āśa).11
Space provides room for all extended substances. All extended substances
exist in space. To put it differently, substances occupy space; space is occupied. Thus, unlike Descartes, a substance is not the same as an extension, it rather is the locus of extension similar to what one fnds in John
Locke. Space is inferred; it is not perceived.
Pudgala or matter is the raw stuff of which the universe is constituted; it is
capable of integration and disintegration. It possesses four qualities: Taste,
touch, smell, and color.12 Sound is not a quality of matter but a mode of
it. One may combine material substances to form larger wholes or break
them into smaller and smaller units. The smallest part of the matter is aṇu
or an atom.13 Atoms may combine to form aggregates called “skandhas.” In
Jaina metaphysics, these aggregates range from the smallest aggregate of
two atoms to the largest aggregates which the entire physical world represents.14 The objects that we perceive in our everyday lives are compound
objects, e.g., animals, senses, the mind, and so on. It is worth noting that
pudgala does not simply mean matter; it functions as the basis of the body,
and it is the material cause of the body, speech, mind, and breath.15
Non-extended Substance
Time
Time, constituted of the atomic moments of time, is present everywhere in the
world; it is real. It does not extend in space. Time, argue Jainas, is a necessary condition of change, motion, duration, etc. It is one, indivisible, infnite
substance,16 though there are cycles of it. A thing changes, continues to exist,
assumes new forms, and discards old ones; all these presuppose time. Time,
like space, is inferred, not perceived. The Śvet āmbara Jainis do not confer on
time the status of an independent substance; they, however, maintain that it is
necessary to explain the worldly progression.
III Jaina Logic (Syādvāda)
Syādvāda
Jaina syādvāda is based on anek āntavāda, i.e., the Jaina attitude to the nature
of things, that yields a logic, which is perhaps one of India’s most important
contribution to world philosophy. For the frst time in the history of logic,
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the Jaina philosophers came to speak of a seven-truth-valued logic, known as
“syadvāda,” which has two components, “syad” and “vāda.” “Syad” means “in
some respect,” or “from a particular standpoint,” while “vāda” means “statement.” The statement “this is a pitcher” is true, from a certain point of view,
and, at the same time from another point of view, this is not a pitcher. Thus,
a judgment may be true from a certain point of view; however, from another
point of view, the same judgment may be false. So, “syad” should not be taken
to mean “may be,” “possibly,” etc. It would be a mistake to regard “syadvāda”
as a theory of doubt, uncertainty, and skepticism. It certainly is not skepticism; it rather is a doctrine of conditional certainty.
This leads Jaina logicians to distinguish between seven perspectives from
which the same statement or judgment can be evaluated.17 Of the sevenfold
judgments or predications, there are only three primary modes: (1) existent,
(2) non-existent, and (3) inexpressible. The seven are developed out of these
three basic modes.
Syadvāda
Given a judgment p, the Jainas hold that
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
there is a perspective from which p is true;
there is a perspective from which p is false;
there is a perspective from which p is both true and false; and
there is a perspective from which p is “inexpressible.”
These four, the basic truth-values, were then combined into
three more:
there is a perspective from which p is true and is also inexpressible;
there is a perspective from which p is both false and is inexpressible; and
there is a perspective from which p is true, is also false, and is also
inexpressible.
I will provide an illustrative example. If p is “this is a pitcher,” then from
the perspective of a certain place, time, and quality (e.g., “brown”), p is true;
the pitcher exists. But from the standpoint of another region of space, time,
and quality (e.g., “red”), this statement is false, i.e., the pitcher does not exist.
The two standpoints may then be combined, and it may be asserted that as
being in a certain region of space and time18 and as having a certain quality this pitcher exists, but also from another perspective it does not; so, p is
both true and false. Being both true and false, and failing to combine the two
values, p becomes inexpressible. The set of positive and negative properties
of a thing cannot be exhaustively enumerated. Everything whatsoever has
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therefore an aspect of inexpressibility. From a purely logical perspective, “p”
becomes undecidable.
Given these three possibilities, one generates from them the remaining four
primary modes. The Jaina holds that such moral propositions as “truthfulness is a virtue,” or “killing is a sin,” can be regarded as having the seven
truth-values.
Let us apply these forms to a common moral judgment, “you should speak
the truth.”
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
there is a perspective from which to speak the truth is a virtue (is);
there is a perspective from which to speak the truth is not a virtue (e.g.,
to speak the truth before a hunter who is searching for a deer, or to speak
the truth to a dangerous man who is after a woman) (is not);
there is a perspective from which to speak the truth is wholesome and is
a virtue, but from another perspective to speak the truth is unwholesome
and is not a virtue (is and is not);
there is a perspective from which without considering the situation or circumstance, we can never say whether truth-speaking is or is not a virtue
(is inexpressible);
there is a perspective from which to speak the truth is a virtue, but without considering circumstances, we cannot say whether it is or is not a
virtue (is and is inexpressible);
there is a perspective from which to speak the truth is not a virtue, but
without considering circumstances, we cannot say whether it is or is not a
virtue (is not and is inexpressible);19 and
there is a perspective from which to speak the truth is a virtue, but from
another perspective to speak the truth is not a virtue; so, we cannot say
whether it is or is not a virtue (is, is not, and is inexpressible).20
To sum up: Syadvāda is a method of viewing a thing from different standpoints. It is a method of synthesizing apparently incompatible attributes in a
thing from differing standpoints. As we will see shortly, different systems of
Indian philosophy hold different views regarding the nature of reality: For
example, the Vedānta school regards the brahman as permanent; the Buddha
held that everything is momentary; the Sāṃ khya school regards prak ṛti as
permanent-cum-impermanent and the puru ṣas as impermanent; the NyāyaVaiśeṣika school some of the real entities like atoms, time, soul, are permanent, while others, e.g., a jar and a cloth, are impermanent. The Jaina school,
as distinguished from the above schools, maintains that everything is both
permanent and impermanent. Everything has origination, destruction, and
persistence. A thing is permanent from the standpoint of substance, but it
is also impermanent from the standpoint of modes. Thus, it makes sense to
say that the Jaina syadvāda emphasizes “the conditionality and limitedness of
human power and human vision and therefore it applies to all humanly constructible positions.”21
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IV Theory of Knowledge
Whereas a naya, as explained above, is the knowledge of a thing from a certain
standpoint, a pram āṇa gives knowledge of a thing in its totality. In a pram āṇa,
knowledge cognizes a thing in all its aspects. Whereas the function of a
pram āṇa is to comprehend the total nature of an object, a naya apprehends the
object from a particular perspective. In other words, a pram āṇa lays bare the
whole truth; a naya gives a partial truth.
Initially, the Jaina commentators make a distinction between the two types
of standpoints (nayas): Substantial standpoint (dravyārthika naya) and moded
standpoint (paryāyārthika naya). The former focuses on the generic and permanent aspect of a substance, the latter on modes, changes, or transformations.
Thus, a pitcher as a substance, i.e., as a pitcher, is permanent; however, as its
form or quality, the pitcher is impermanent. Thus, whereas the substantial
standpoint grasps the generic aspect, the moded standpoint grasps the specifc
aspect.
A pram āṇa, argue Jainas, is self-illuminating, manifests its object, and is not
subject to cancellation. A pram āṇa is free from three kinds of bādha or cancellations, viz., doubt, error, and not knowing the specifc features of the object.
Right determination of the object is the main function of a pram āṇa.
Jainas regard knowledge as an evolution of the self and deny any positive
and direct determination by the object in the occurrence of knowledge. The
knowledge, in the long run, must lie within the self. The absence of objectdetermination in knowledge and the innate self-luminous character of knowledge give rise to the Jaina doctrine of omniscience. The self’s original essence
is pure luminosity. The self in the absolute state is the pure transcendental
principle of self-luminosity.
The “object” according to Jaina, is an independent real entity. It is not one,
but many; it is opposite to self in nature. It is ja ḍa or unconscious. It is subject
to continuous transformation (pari ṇāma), possesses different qualities (gu ṇas),
and modifcations (paryāya). Self also changes constantly; it evolves into the
form of knowledge of the non-self. The not-self evolves into the form of the
knowable for the self. However, the object does not literally enter the self.
Thus, the Jainas reject not only the epistemological monism of Vijñānavada,
but also the Advaita theory of non-difference.22
The senses, according to Jainism, have a double character. They partake of
the nature of substance (dravya), but their being is psychical. The Jaina accepts
only fve senses, not ten as the Sāṃ khya does.23 Sense organs of action do not
fnd a place in the Jaina scheme; the senses are not the instruments of actions.
Though not a sense, manas (mind) is the instrumental cause of sense-functions.
Mind, from a functional point of view, is a power of the soul, though it has a
body as its material support. The mind is extended all over the body; it is not
atomic as the Naiyāyikas take it to be.
Valid knowledge is either direct or indirect. Direct knowledge or perception is either sense perception that occurs through the sense organs or
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mental perceptions, e.g., perceptions of pleasure and pain within. Perceptual
knowledge is defned as the knowledge that is detailed. Empirical knowledge
is produced by the senses and the mind.24 Empirical knowledge at times is
produced by the cooperation of the senses and the mind together, but at other
times, by the activity of the mind alone. For example, when I say “this is a
chair,” it is produced by the joint activity of the sense of sight and mind: I see
the table with the sight, but the recollecting that it looks like a chair requires
the activity of the mind.
In addition to empirical perceptions (external and internal) or knowledge,
the Jainas speak of more innate knowledge, not dependent on sense organs
and mind, a kind of immediate knowledge, which again is of three kinds.25
1
2
3
Avadhi, a form of direct perception, is the perception of things in remote
space and time (roughly corresponds to what modern psychology calls
“clairvoyance”).26 It is a kind of extra-sensory perception that enables us
to perceive things that have form and shape. Things without form, e.g.,
dharma and soul, cannot be perceived by avadhi.
Manaḥparyāya is the direct cognition of the thoughts and ideas of other
persons (along the lines of Western telepathy). In this cognition instrumentality of the sense-organs is not involved; it involves mind-contact
among different individuals. Such a cognition requires developed mental
discipline.
Kevalajñ āna, knowledge par excellence, is the total comprehension of reality.
It is omniscience; there is no distinction of time as the past, the present,
and the future in it. It is perfect knowledge. The soul acquires this knowledge when all the karmas are removed.
There are certain interesting features of the Jaina theory of perception, which
must be emphasized.
1
Unlike the Nyāya and M īmāṃsā systems, the Jainas do not defne perception in terms of its causes (e.g., by the contact of the sense organs with their
objects), but rather by the nature of the knowledge, namely, by its character of being a detailed and clear knowledge of its object. Etymologically
the term “pratyak ṣa” consists of “prati” (before, near, to) and “ak ṣa” (sense
organ) or “prati” and “ak ṣi” (eye). Thus, “pratyak ṣa” is taken to signify both
“before any sense organ” or “the eyes giving rise to direct and immediate knowledge.” It is usually contrasted with mediate (parok ṣa) knowledge
signifying away from the sense organs or the eyes. Early Jainas, however,
argue that “ak ṣa” means “self” or “ jīva” that comprehends all objects in
space and time. So, knowledge derived from the self is pratyak ṣa (perception), and knowledge that is not derived from the self is mediate.27
Later Jaina philosophers, for example, Hemacandra in his Pram āṇa
M īm āṃsā28 however, argues that “ak ṣa” can be taken either to mean the
self that knows everything or sense organ. So, pratyak ṣa may mean either
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2
3
the knowledge that arises from the self alone or that which arises from the
sense organ. The former, however, is superior to the latter; the former is
non-sensuous, the latter is simply sense perception.
Again, the Jainas, contrary to most Indian schools, do not recognize indeterminate perception. We perceive objects in the world. The Jainas in
this regard are realists. The Jainas respect the Buddhist thesis that perception in the strict sense must be free from all conceptual construction
(kalpan ā).
Finally, the Jaina conception of sense organs is very different from the
other Hindu systems which regard sense organs to be material objects of
some sort or the other. The Jainas, on the other hand, regard them primarily as powers of the self, and the external perceptible organs as their
outer supports.
There are four mediate (parok ṣa) pram āṇas: Memory, recognition, anum āna,
and āgama.
The Jainas is the only school among Indian schools that recognizes memory as a pram āṇa. In memory, an object which was already grasped by a previous pram āṇa, now referred to as “that” (tat) is revived. Recollection signifes the
awakening of some past impressions. To recollect “X” means, “X” was known
directly in the past, left its impressions, and is recollected now as a result of the
awakening of the impressions of “X.” It is a form of valid knowledge, argue
Jaina philosophers because it is a correct impression of the thing perceived in
the past.
Recognition is a complex mental act consisting of both the elements of
presentation and representation, perception, and memory. It lacks the sort of
clarity that belongs to perception alone; one comprehends identity, difference,
resemblance, and comparison in it. It assumes the form: “this is that.” It is the
correct apprehension of a thing. It is worth noting that the Jaina school does
not recognize comparison as a separate means of true cognition.
Inference (anum āna), like the Nyāya inference, contains fve members:
1
2
3
4
5
The Hill is smoky. (Claim to be proven)
Because it is fery. (Reason)
Wherever there is smoke, there is fre, e.g., kitchen. (Example)
The Hill is smoky. (Application)
Therefore, the Hill is fery. (Conclusion)
For Western logic, it is the major premise that conveys the relationship between the middle and the major terms. For the Nyāya logicians, this function
is carried by the “example.” I will detail some of these issues in Chapter 12 of
this work. It is worth noting that for the Jaina philosophers, tarka (reasoning)
is also a means of knowing the vyāpti or the universal concomitance between
the major term (sādhya) and the middle term (hetu) to arrive at the conclusion (anumiti), i.e., the knowledge gained from an inferential process. Tarka
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is a unique source of such knowledge because neither perception alone nor
inference alone can yield the knowledge of vyāpti.
The Jainas, of all Indian philosophers, regard āgama (scriptural testimony)
or śabda (verbal testimony) as parok ṣa (mediate) knowledge. By śabda they do
not mean either the Vedic texts or the words of the Vedic seers as the Hindus
do, but the words of the t īrtha ṇkaras (perfected souls). The Jainas identify āgama
with āptavacana, i.e., the words of a trustworthy person. But they distinguish
between two kinds of āpta: The ordinary and the extraordinary. The extraordinary āpta is one who has attained omniscience. Regarding the meaning of
a sentence or (vākyārtha), the Jainas argue that words have meanings, both
expressed and implied by virtue of which they get connected to form a unifed
sentential meaning.
While the Buddhists wavered a great deal on the issue of omniscience (some
accepted it, while others did not) or even on the specifc question of whether
the Buddha was omniscient, the Jainas had no doubt that the perfected souls,
the jinas or the t īrtha ṇkaras, attain omniscience. Once the covering karmas
are removed by the long process of self-purifcation, any human can attain
omniscience.
V The Jaina Ethics: Bondage and Liberation
The most important part of Jaina ethics is the path to mok ṣa (salvation). The
Jainas argue that the contact between jīva and ajīva brings about birth and
death. Bondage results when soul and matter interpenetrate; freedom is their
separation. Matter particles are the obstacles that infect the soul.29 The soul
can attain omniscience if the obstacles are removed.
It is important to keep in mind that karma in Jaina philosophy means both
an action and the impression left on the soul by an action. Karma in the latter
sense is the karmic matter attached to the soul. Collectively, the karmas are
the sum total of the tendencies generated in the past lives that determine our
present birth, i.e., the family in which we are born, our shape, color, longevity, and so on.30 The karmic matter is of eight kinds: Knowledge-covering,
vision-covering, feeling-producing, delusion-causing, longevity-determining,
body-making, status-determining, and obstructive ones.31 These determine
one’s life until karmas are dissociated from one’s soul. The jīva on account of
passions, desires, etc., attracts karma-matter, so there is an infux (āśrava) of the
karma-matter in the soul. How much karma-matter one attracts depends upon
the kinds of actions one has performed. Dissociation consists of two special
kinds of entities, entities in a very peculiar sense, more appropriately process
or steps: The stoppage of the karma-matter and the exhaustion of already attracted karmas. (The soul is not devoid of extension; it is coextensive with the
living body. The soul is the jīva; it is matter as well as consciousness).
The Jaina prescribes a path of self-purifcation, the path that leads to the
gradual destruction of karmic matter and the recovery of self’s original omniscience, i.e., the knowledge of the nature of the soul.
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The three jewels together, viz., right faith, right knowledge, and right conduct constitute the path to mok ṣa.32 Jaina commentators use the analogy of
medicine as a cure to explain it. Just as the faith in the effcacy, knowledge
of how to use it, and taking the medicine is mandatory for the cure to be affected; similarly, the three principles are necessary to remove suffering.
Right faith is the basis and the starting point of the discipline. It is the attitude of respect toward truth. Such an attitude may be inborn or acquired.
One begins the study of the Jaina writings with partial faith; however, when
one gets deeper into them, rationally examines what is taught by the t īrtha ṇkaras, one’s faith in the Jaina teachings increases. In other words, with the
increase of knowledge, faith increases. Five signs of the right faith are: Tranquility, spiritual craving, disgust, compassion, and conviction.
Right knowledge is free from doubt, error, and uncertainty. It is the knowledge of the real nature of the ego. The Jaina writers outline different kinds of
wrong views.
1
2
3
4
5
Uncritical and obstinate acceptance of views. A wise person does not accept any view without critical examination.
Indiscriminate acceptance of all views. Such an acceptance leads to a
dull-witted acceptance of all views as true.
Intentional clinging to a wrong view due to attachment. Obstinate attachment to a wrong view despite knowing that it is wrong.
The attitude of uncertainty and doubt about the spiritual truths.
Sticking to the false beliefs and views owing to a lack of growth.
The Jaina prophets preach the essential equality of all living beings. Equality
is natural to all living beings, while differences among them are adventitious,
primarily owing to the differences between auspicious and inconspicuous
karmas. Besides, according to Jainism, any human can attain liberation. No
particular status is a necessary condition for the attainment of liberation. The
soul in the body is god. God, according to Jainism, is not eternal but has
worked out his own freedom or liberation. The three categories (tattvas), god,
spiritual teacher, and religion, in their true nature, are called “samyak” (right).
Recognizing all living beings as oneself is the root of the right attitude. The
opposite of “samyaktva” is “mithyā” (false or wrong). There are various types
of wrong or false attitudes about things, about the highest good, about the
spiritual teacher, about god, and so on. One should cultivate the attitude of
seeing all beings as equal to oneself. There are four such attitudes: Friendliness, gladness, compassion, and neutrality.
Right conduct is doing what is benefcial and avoiding what is harmful.33
The goal here is to get rid of the karmas that lead to bondage and liberation.
Right conduct contains two sets of rules: The rules for the householders and the
rules for the mendicants. The householders’ rules are less stringent. These are:
Honesty in earning wealth, fearlessness, self-control, non-violence, not-lying,
not-taking anything that is not given, refraining from illicit sexual relations,
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limiting one’s possessions, limiting the scope of one’s immoral activities, limiting the things one will use, not indulging in senseless harmful acts such as giving harmful advice, giving to others the means of destroying life, not indulging
in harmful thoughts, not indulging in harmless behavior, the vow to remain
equanimous for a certain period of time, the vow of fasting and living like a
monk for a certain length of time, and the vow to share with guests.
For the mendicants, the rules of right conduct consist of observing fve vows
and gradual curbing of the activities of the body, speech, and mind. For the
stoppage of the karmas, one takes the fve great vows: Ahi ṃsā, i.e., the vow
of non-injury (non-violence), satya (the vow of truthfulness), asteyam (the vow
of not taking what is not given), brahmacaryam (celibacy), and aprigraha (the
vow of abstinence from all attachment). Overall, there is the lifelong vow of
universal brotherhood.
Ahi ṃsā or non-violence is the most important Jaina virtue, just as “compassion” is for the Buddhists. It is one of the cardinal virtues; it signifes nonviolence in thought, deed, and action. Ahi ṃsā leads to pure love. Pure love
or nonviolence may be negative or positive. In the negative sense, pure love
abstains from causing the injury of any sort to any living being. In a positive
sense, it is performing positive virtuous activities like serving or helping others
and doing good to them.34
To sum up: Right faith, knowledge, and conduct are necessary for liberation. If one of the three is missing, there would be no mok ṣa.
The perfected soul, according to Jainism, becomes a god. God, in Jainism,
is not the creator of the world. There are thus (infnite?) many perfected souls
and so one could say that there are many gods (not in the sense of polytheism)
but in the sense of a community of spirits. The perfected souls are, as a matter
of fact, all alike, and so the Jainas speak of one god, although there are many
perfected souls. God is to be worshipped, not to please him, but in order to
pursue the ideal of complete freedom from the accumulated karmas. One does
not seek God’s mercy and help; one pursues the ideal that is actualized in him.
VI Concluding Remarks
In reviewing the ancient Indian philosophies, we see that there existed many
nayas. Of all the nayas, two were most fundamental: The substance perspective
(dravya-naya) and the process perspective (paryāya-naya). The Vedāntins adopt
the former, the Buddhists the latter. The Jaina naya theory yields a framework
for synthesizing both. For the Jainas, reality is both permanent and changing,
universal and, positive and negative; there are really no binary oppositions
among these as each of these is valid from a certain perspective. The complete
nature of reality consists both of identity and difference, of permanence and
change, of universal and particular. This synthetic approach of the Jainas is
their most important contribution to Indian thought.35
The above discussion makes it obvious that the Jainas are not only realists
and non-absolutists; they are also “relativists.” A “perspective,” on the Jaina
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thesis, is not to be construed as a subjective way of looking at things, but an objectively
partial view which singles out one aspect out of the infinite, objective, aspects of
reality. Thus, Jaina “relativism” is not subjectivism. Perhaps, it is more accurate to say that it is “relational-ism.”
A comparison with A. N. Whitehead’s metaphysical system worked out in
his Process and Reality may throw some light on the nature of objective relationalism. In Whitehead’s system, every actual entity is related to every other
actual entity. Thus, a thing’s having a certain color is always from a certain
perspective. On Whitehead’s account, an infinite number of perspectives constitute each and every entity. His system is much more complex than the Jaina
system, but it is not an exaggeration to say that the Jaina syadvāda anticipates
Whiteheadian objective relativism. It is one of the greatest achievements of the
ancient Indian mind.
Study Questions
1. Explain the Jaina conception of anek āntavāda. Do you find their account
plausible? Give reasons for your answer.
2. Critically discuss the Jaina syadvāda or the conditional standpoint. If there
are weaknesses, explain clearly what they are. If you find the theory to be
a good one, explain its strong points.
3. Explain the role of ahi ṃsā in Jaina ethics. Discuss to what extent the
anek āntavāda and syadvāda are parts of the Jaina theory of non-violence.
4. Elaborate on the Jaina conceptions of bondage and liberation.
5. Comment on the following statement: “Karmas are impressions left behind by actions. They are material and cling to the immaterial soul.”
Compare the Jaina and the Upaniṣadic conceptions of karma. Which one
do you find more persuasive, and why?
Suggested Readings
For an excellent introduction to Jaina philosophy, see Padmanabh S. Jaini,
The Jaina Path of Purification (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1998). Additional
good introductions on Jainism are: Jeffery Long, Jainism: An Introduction
(London: I.B. Tauris, 2013); Lawrence A. Babb, Understanding Jainism
(Edinburgh: Duneding Publishing 2015); and M. L. Mehta, Outlines of Jaina
Philosophy (Bangalore: Jaina Mission Society, 1954). For translations of some
of the basic texts, see Tattvārtha S ūtra, That Which Is, Um āsvāti/Um āsvāmi
with the combined commentaries of Umā svāti/Umā svāmi, P ūjyapāda,
and Siddhasenaga ṇ i (San Francisco, CA: Harper Collins, 1994).
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7
THE BAUDDH A DAR Ś A NA
I Early Life and Enlightenment
By the middle of the sixth century BCE, about the time the major Upaniṣads
were composed, a new mode of thinking revolutionized the intellectual and
religious scene of India; over the course of time, it impacted almost all of Asia.
This revolution originated with an individual known as the Buddha. Details
of the Buddha’s life—the exact date of his birth, his social background, his
early experiences—are inextricable from the conficting legends that surround him.1 However, tradition maintains that he was born to Śuddhodana
Gautama, chief of the Śā kya clan, and his wife Māyā in the foothills of the
Himalayas around 560 BCE, on the border of India and modern-day Nepal.
The name given to the Buddha at birth was Siddhārtha, and his family name
was Gautama, so in his early years, the Buddha was known as Siddhārtha
Gautama. His father, Śuddhodana, was the chief of the Śā kya clan, so Siddhārtha was also referred to as “Śā kyamuni,” or the “Sage of the Śā kyas.”
The father, Śuddhodana, fearing a prophecy, shielded Siddhārtha from any
kind of suffering and unpleasant experiences that might take him toward religious life. Śuddhodana made certain that the young prince was sheltered and
indulged so thoroughly that he never wanted to leave the luxurious surroundings of the palace; as a result, he never saw the hard realities of life. Some
accounts say that while he was still a boy, Siddhārtha did once beg his father
to let him visit the lands beyond the palace. For this tour, his father reportedly had the scene swept clean of anything that might shatter Siddhārtha’s
ignorance, and so the prince returned home satisfed and incurious. Other
accounts inform us that Siddhārtha did witness one thing that stayed with him
ever after: The sight of farmers cutting through earthworms as they plowed
their felds, prompting him to feel a moment of sympathy for their suffering.
When Siddhārtha turned sixteen, his father had him married to a beautiful
princess named Yaśodharā, who gave birth to a son a year later. Siddhārtha
named the child Rahula (“The Fetter”). Restless with married life, legend
says, Siddhārtha commanded his chariot driver to take him to the city under cover of night. He witnessed three sights of ordinary human suffering
that shattered his complacency: An elderly person, a diseased person, and a
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corpse. Confronted with the reality of illness, aging, and death for the frst
time, Siddhārtha was deeply, existentially troubled. A fourth sight—an ascetic monk with a begging bowl— excited something new in him. Siddhārtha
decided he must leave the palace and his indulged life, as well as his wife and
young son, in order to learn what another kind of life he could live. Fearing
that if he kissed his sleeping family in farewell they would wake up and he
would not be able to leave, he crept away without a sound or a word. He
traded clothes with his chariot driver, gave away his jewels, and cut off his
long hair. He would fnd the monk, or others like him, and begin his life anew.
There were two main strands of monastic practice in India when Siddhārtha started his quest for truth: The brāhma ṇas, followers of the Vedic precepts,
and the śrama ṇas or recluses. The brāhma ṇas followed the path prescribed by
Vedic rituals and remained engaged in society, recommending appropriate
sacrifces and promising a life of enjoyment thereafter. The śrama ṇas followed
a path of austerity and self-mortifcation, shunning all social responsibility by
retiring to the forest to infict pain upon themselves and deny themselves any
of the pleasures in life.
Siddhārtha initially pursued the path of self-mortifcation. He met fve ascetics who believed that practicing austere self-mortifcation would help the
practitioner gain great vigor of the mind and have extraordinary insight.
Hoping to attain this insight, Siddhārtha began living on smaller and smaller
quantities of food and practicing control of his breathing, learning to fall into
a trance-like state for hours. It is said that he became so malnourished that
his ribs protruded sharply, his eyes sank into his skull, and his sitting bones
were sore. But he persisted, earning the respect of the other ascetics for his
unwavering diligence. However, for all his efforts, Siddhārtha did not attain
enlightenment this way; on the contrary, he fainted from starvation.
This experience prompted Siddhārtha to realize that indulging every emotional whim and physical desire does not lead to wisdom, but neither does
denying every physical need and eliminating all experience of pleasure. He
left the company of the ascetics and took to wandering on his own across
the Gangetic plains in search of the truth, encountering other ascetics, philosophers, and spiritual leaders with whom he engaged in dialogues. Chief
among them were—the Ājivīkas, the skeptics, and above all, Mahāv īra, the
twenty-fourth t īrtha ṇkara of Jainism—who revolted against many key ideas
of brāhma ṇism. Finally, it is said, Siddhārtha stopped wandering and settled
under a large pipal tree to meditate, vowing not to arise until he had discovered truth. Eventually, he did rise, enlightened, and the pipal tree was ever
afterward known as the “bodhi” tree.
What exactly happened during Siddhārtha’s illumination is a matter of
some controversy. On one popular account, found in the Vinaya Piṭaka, he
is said to have beheld all twelve links of dependent origination; this would be
anachronistic, however, since the twelve links theory was a later development.
A more reliable interpretation is found in the words of Śā kyamuni speaking to
a brāhma ṇa in Majjhima Nik āya (MN).
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Enlightenment2
The Mahasaccaka Sutta describes how, after destroying the “cankers of
his mind,” it became purifed, without deflements, became established,
and after attaining the concentration of the mind, the Buddha attained
four cognitions:
1
2
3
4
Insight into his own past lives: He, then, directed his mind toward
wisdom, and he recollected his previous existences one by one. He
recollected the details, the names he had, the families he was born
in, how he died, and so on. His ignorance was dispelled, and this
was the frst light of wisdom he attained during the early part of the
night.
Insight into the past lives of Others: He, then, directed his mind
toward wisdom, and he then recollected the birth and death of all
living beings and realized the hold of karma and rebirth: Good acts
lead to a happy birth and bad acts to a miserable life. His ignorance
was dispelled, and this was the second light of wisdom he attained
during the middle of the night.
Insight into the Four Noble Truths: He, then, directed his mind
toward wisdom and realized that all is dukkha. He saw the truth of
Dependent Origination, the real nature of the world, when there
is no ignorance, there is no karma formation, and this was the third
light of wisdom he attained during the end of the night.
Finally, at the dawn, the fourth knowledge was attained. Right
knowledge is gained. Since one cannot observe the true nature of the
highest with the human eye, it is necessary to possess “divine-eyes.”
The designation Buddha, “the Enlightened One” or “the Awakened One,”
was given to Siddh ā rtha after he attained nirv āṇa. His disciples mostly referred to him as Tath āgata, which means “he-who-has-thus-arrived-there,”
and in his conversations with his disciples, the Buddha referred to himself as Tath āgata. After attaining nirv āṇa, the Buddha set out on a path to
teaching the truth he had learned to common people (and not particularly
to scholars), in a manner that was intelligible to them. The nirv āṇa of the
Buddha was a verifed experience; he believed, thought, and acted the way
he preached. He clearly thought that by following his path, anybody could
reach nirv āṇa.
The Buddha refused to answer questions about the existence of God, or the
immortal soul persisting in an afterlife or the origins of the world. When asked
if there is a life after death, or whether there is a temporal beginning of the
universe, he sometimes emphasized that the answers to these questions were
not necessary for a good life, at times stated that whatever answer he might
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give is likely to be misunderstood, and at other times maintained a Noble
Silence, saying nothing on the matter at all.
Here is a summary of one of the conversations that the Buddha had with
his disciple Mā lu ṇ kyaputta, who demanded answers to the following questions, and threatened to leave the Buddhist order if the Buddha did not answer
them. These questions were:
Is the universe eternal?
Is the universe non-eternal?
Is the universe fnite?
Is the universe infnite?
Is the soul the same as the body?
Are the soul and the body different?
Does the Tath āgata exist after death?
Does the Tath āgata not exist after death?
Does the Tath āgata both (at the same time) exist and not exist after death?
Does the Tath āgata both (at the same time) not exist and not not-exist after
death?3
When Mā lu ṇ kyaputta went to the Buddha with these questions, the Buddha
responded as follows:
It is as if a man had been wounded by an arrow thickly smeared with
poison, and his friends, companions, relatives, and kinsmen were to
get a surgeon to heal him, and he were to say I will not have this
arrow pulled out until I know by what man I was wounded, whether
he is of the warrior caste, or a brahmin, or of the agricultural, or the
lowest caste. Or, if he were to say, I will not have this arrow pulled out
until I know of what name or family the man is … or whether he is
tall, or short, or of middle height…or whether he is black, or dark, or
yellowish…or whether he comes from such…. That man would die,
Mā lu ṇ kyaputta, without knowing all this.
It is not on the view that the world is eternal, Mā lu ṇ kyaputta that a
religious life depends: it is not on the view that the world is not eternal
that a religious life depends. Whether the view is held that the world
is eternal, or that the world is not eternal, there is still rebirth, there
is old age, there is death, and grief, lamentation, suffering, sorrow
and despair, the destruction of which even in this life I announce.4
The Buddha was an ethical teacher and reformer rather than a metaphysician. He was strongly in favor of the effcacy of ethical practices and the
possibility of reaching perfection in this life. His goal was to change our lives,
to alleviate dukkha; it was not to argue about the nature of reality. However,
when we do an in-depth study of the Buddha’s teaching, we realize that his
views were profoundly shaped by his early conversations with the śrama ṇas,
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the Jainas chief among them. Perhaps, M ā hāv īra—older than Siddhārtha by
ten years—was a signifcant infuence on his thoughts; he would have heard
his reasons for denying the existence of God, giving a naturalistic account of
the world, affrming the existence of souls, rebirth, and karma and prescribing self-purifcation as the means of attaining spiritual perfection. While the
Buddha agreed with the Jainas about the nature of rebirth and the ethical
importance of non-violence, he still judged their practice of asceticism to be
extreme and rigid.
The Buddha also rejected the teachings of the brāhma ṇas, including their
caste distinctions and sacrifcial rituals. However, it would be wrong to say
that the Buddha rejected the entire Vedic tradition. He had sympathies
with many Upaniṣadic beliefs, including the conceptions of self-knowledge,
mok ṣa, and rebirth, as well as the pursuit of yogic practices. While rejecting the
Upaniṣadic thesis about the eternity of ātman (soul), he placed a strong emphasis on the principles of karma and rebirth.
The question naturally arose whether these two approaches are compatible, as the brāhma ṇas and Jainas represented often contradictory views. The
Buddha characterized his teaching as madhyama pratipad, the Middle Way
because it avoids all extremes—of being and non-being, self and non-self,
self-indulgence and self-mortifcation, substance and process—in general, all
dualistic affrmations. So, mediation between the extremes of brāhma ṇism and
Jainism would be possible in his view. I am not trying to suggest here that the
Buddha’s teachings were a mere hybrid of various ideas already around. He
added his own interpretation and personal wisdom to other views, integrating
them into a grand system. Nevertheless, it is always good to remember that no
thinker, however original, is untouched by the cultural context which shapes
his thinking, and the Buddha was no exception.
Despite the Buddha’s rejection of authority, and of śabda (word) as a legitimate means of knowing, his own words attained the status of one of the
authoritative means of knowing the truth. Many philosophical schools developed during the thousand-year history of Buddhism in India, not to mention the numerous schools of Buddhism that arose in Southeast Asia, Tibet,
China, and Japan after it traveled to these countries. But, in the end, one piece
of advice given by the Buddha on his deathbed to Ā nanda, his closest disciple,
remains symptomatic of the Buddhist spirit. Asked by Ā nanda, “what shall
we do after you are gone?” The Buddha replied, “be a light unto thyself”
(“ātm āna ṃ prad īpo bhava.”) “Do not betake any external refuge; hold fast to the
truth as a lamp.”
The Buddha continued to preach and reply to inquiries from his disciples
for over forty years. These discussions bring to light his perspective on many
common questions of the day, but his remarks were not common. However
simple the words of the Buddha, they were always packed with meaning, and
one’s understanding of their meaning was contingent on one’s ability. Thus,
it is not surprising that many of his statements stimulated discussions for generations to come.
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The Buddha is said to have died at the age of eighty in 483 BCE. As was
customary during those days, he taught through oral instruction, and his
teachings were handed down orally by his disciples to successive generations.
Although his followers agreed that the goal of Buddhist practice is to overcome the suffering caused by the cycle of rebirth, they differed in their interpretations of the path to nirvāṇa and the relative importance of the specifc
teachings and practices of various texts.
This resulted in the division of Indian Buddhism into two primary branches:
The Therāvāda school, or the “School of the Elders,” also known derogatorily
as the Hinayāna school, or “Lesser Vehicle,” by the self-named Mahāyāna
school, or “Greater Vehicle.” Varieties of Therāvāda Buddhism are practiced
in Ceylon, Thailand, and Myānmār; Mahāyāna Buddhism is found in East
Asian countries such as China (including the autonomous regions of Tibet
and Inner Mongolia), Outer Mongolia, and Malaysia. Numerous schools
of Mahāyāna Buddhism have fourished in Japan, such as Pure Land, Zen,
Nichiren Buddhism, Shingon, and Tiantai (Tendai).
My analysis in this chapter is primarily based on the Therāvāda Pali text
Tipi ṭakas, or “Three Baskets,” consisting of the (1) Vinaya-Piṭaka, rules of conduct and discipline of the order; (2) Sutta-Pi ṭaka (also known as the Nik āyas), a
collection of the sayings and sermons of the Buddha; and (3) Abhidhamma-Pi ṭaka,
a discussion of philosophical issues.
I will begin with the First Sermon of the Buddha.
II The Middle Way and the Four Noble Truths
Dharma Revisited
Dharma (Pā li: dhamma) is a complex concept which has acquired a variety of meanings and interpretations in Buddhism.
In Buddhism, dharma can have many different meanings in different
contexts.
1
2
3
4
5
Dharma is a generic term used to represent the teachings of the
Buddha.
Dharma can be understood to be the True Doctrine, such as the
Four Noble Truths which refect the fundamental moral law of the
universe.
Phenomena, in general, are dharmas, as are qualities and characteristics of phenomena.
“Growing old is the dharma [nature] of all compounded things.”
In a technical sense, dharma denotes the ultimate constituents or
elements of the whole of reality.
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After attaining nirvāṇa, the Buddha walked from Bodhgayā to the Deer Park
near Vārāṇasī (Banaras) in northern India, where he set in motion what is
known as the Wheel of Dharma. The Buddha delivered his frst sermon to
a group of admiring and curious villagers who had assembled there. There
was something unique about his speech as well as his audience. His audience
did not consist of the members of the priestly class, of those who were adept
in scriptures, but rather of the common village folks, who neither spoke nor
understood Sanskrit. The Buddha spoke in the Pā li language and continued
to preach in that language to make his teachings accessible to the common
people.
The Middle Way
The brāhma ṇas encouraged the elaborate performance of various kinds
of rituals and the śrama ṇas practiced different kinds of self-mortifcation;
the Buddha had learned from experience the pitfalls of self-indulgence. In
the doctrine of the Middle Way, he rejected the two extreme paths of selfmortifcation and self-indulgence—the former being demeaning and the latter useless—recommending instead a Middle Way between them. He says:
There are two extremes, O recluses, which he who has gone forth
ought not to follow: The habitual practice, on the one hand, of those
things whose attraction depends upon the pleasures of sense, and
especially of sensuality (a practice low and pagan, ft only for the
worldly-minded, worthy of no abiding proft); and the habitual practice, on the other hand, of self-mortifcation (a practice painful, unworthy, and unproftable equally of no abiding proft).
There is a Middle Way, O recluses, avoiding these extremes, discovered by the Tath āgata—a path which opens the eyes and bestows
understanding, which leads to the peace of mind, to the higher wisdom, to enlightenment, to Nirvāṇa.5
The Middle Way leads from attachment to non-attachment, from existence
to non-existence, and from self to not-self. In this context, one must not lose
sight of the fact that “non-attachment” does not mean “craving for nonattachment,” “non-existence” does not mean “craving for non-existence,”
and “not-self” does not mean “craving for not-self.” The Middle Way, the
Buddha declared, is not the result of any metaphysical inquiry, or any mystical intuition; it has a purely empirical basis. He had arrived at this judgment
by investigation and analysis.
The Middle Way is deemphasis and devaluation of the extremes of existence and non-existence, both of which are rooted in ignorance. The Buddha
condemned all existing dogmas and speculations, ranging from the affrmation of a permanent soul in the Upanisads to its denial in the materialism of
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Ajita who subscribed to the total annihilation of the soul after death. Between
the two extremes also lay the fatalism of Ājīvikas and anek āntavāda of Jainism.
The Buddha exhorted people to follow the Middle Path, informing his
audience that his “Middle Way” leads to peace, insight, and enlightenment.
The doctrine of the Middle Way, so much reminiscent of Aristotle’s as well as
Confucius’ Golden Mean, gradually became a major theme of Buddhist philosophy. In fact, an entire school of Mahāyāna Buddhism came to be known
as “madhyama” or the Middle Path.
Fundamental Postulates of Early Buddhism
1
2
3
4
5
6
The Middle Way (the Dhamma)
The Four Noble Truths
Aniccā
Anatt ā
The Doctrine of the Dependent Origination
The Highest Goal: Nirvāṇa
The second important theme of the frst lecture focused on the Four Noble
Truths, which state the fact of dukkha. These two, i.e., the doctrines of the
Middle Way and the Four Noble Truths, form the foundation of the Buddhist
philosophy.
The Four Noble Truths
The truth of dukkha articulated as the Four Noble Truths is formulated in a
manner and style that follows a pattern of Indian medical literature anticipated in Caraka Sa ṃhit ā. The frst Noble Truth identifes the disease, the second the cause, the third informs us that it is curable, and the fourth outlines
the path, the procedure by which the disease is cured.
The Four Noble Truths
1
2
3
4
There is dukkha.
There is the origin of dukkha (depending on causes and conditions).
There is the cessation of dukkha (upon the cessation of causes and
conditions).
There is a path leading to the cessation of dukkha (the Noble Eightfold Path).
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There is Dukkha
In the First Noble Truth, the Buddha states the fact of dukkha, a pervasive fact
of all human existence: Birth is painful, death is painful, disease is painful,
and separation from the pleasant is painful. To drive home the omnipresence
of dukkha, the Buddha told the story of a very distraught mother who came to
the Buddha with her dead baby in her arms and asked the Buddha to restore
his dead baby to life. The Buddha listened to her request and asked her to
fetch a grain of mustard seed from a house where none had died. She searched
for a long time in vain, and fnally, returned to the Buddha and informed him
of her failure. The Buddha said:
‘My sister; thou hast found’, the Master said,
‘Searching for what none fnds - that bitter balm
I had to give thee. He thou lovedst slept
Dead on thy bosom yesterday; to-day
Thou know’st the whole wide world weeps with thy woe:
The grief which all hearts share grows less for one.’6
One’s understanding of the Buddha’s teachings depends upon how clearly one
comprehends the concept of “dukkha,” and one of the roots of the development
of Buddhism consists in precisely unfolding its meaning.
Saṃsāra
•
•
•
Literally, sa ṃsāra means, “perpetual wandering,” indicating the cycle of rebirth, of coming around again and again, of going through
one life after another.
Sa ṃsāra in Buddhism is dukkha; it is perpetuated by desire and avidyā
(ignorance). A single lifetime is not enough to appreciate the truth
of dukkha entailed in existence.
Sa ṃsāra is the unbroken continuum of the fve skandhas, constantly
changing, forming an unending chain of rebirth.
Dukkha signifes the universal feature of the entirety of sa ṃsāric existence. It
is the opposite of sukha, hence “dis-pleasure,” “dis-comfort,” “dis-satisfaction,”
“dis-content,” or “dis-ease.” This term has been variously translated as
“pain,” “sorrow,” or “suffering.” These translations, however, do not really
capture the essence of what the Buddha was trying to convey to his audience
by this concept; the connotation is much wider and comprehensive. The Buddha discussed three tiers of dukkha, each more complicated and sophisticated
than the previous one.
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Three Tiers of Dukkha
Dukkha-dukkha
Physical illness, pain, suffering
Vipari ṇāma-dukkha
Psychological suffering due to change
Sa ṇkh āra–dukkha
Existential suffering due to rebirth
First, there is dukkha-dukkha, which includes physical illness, degradation
due to aging, and bodily or psychosocial trauma. Second, there is vipari ṇāmadukkha, the dukkha on account of change; in this sense, enjoyment and pleasures are also dukkha, inasmuch as the pleasures that one enjoys pass away;
they do not last forever. The Buddha was aware that there are moments of
pleasure, there are moments of satisfaction of one’s desires, but he also realized that such moments are transitory; they are followed by the experience of
unhappiness and longing for what is no more. Even when one gets what one
wants, either one cannot hold on to it; alternately, one gets it, and then wishes
to have more than what he does have and feels pain on account of the deprivation of what could have been.
The Buddha emphasized that when the causes and conditions that produce
pleasant experiences cease, pleasant or happy experiences also cease to exist.
Saṇkh āras
•
•
•
•
•
•
The term “saṇkh ārā” is derived from the prefx sam, meaning “together,” joined to the noun “kara,” meaning “doing, making.”
Accordingly, “saṇkh ārā” signifes “co-doings,” things that act in concert with other things, or things that are made by a combination of
other things.
Sa ṇkh āras are the karmically active volitions; they are responsible for
generating rebirth.
Reinforced by ignorance and fred by craving, sa ṇkh āras drive the
stream of consciousness onward to a new union of skandhas, and the
character of the sa ṇkh āra determines the character of future birth.
If one performs meritorious deeds, the sa ṇkh āras or volitional formations will push or move consciousness to a happy realm of rebirth.
If one engages in demeritorious deeds, the sa ṇkh āras will push or
move consciousness toward an unhappy rebirth.
Sa ṇkh ārās, the second link in the Dependent Origination, are virtually used synonymously with karmas.
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Pleasant or happy experiences eventually change to unpleasant or do not last
forever. To be separated from what is pleasant is dukkha, to be joined with
unpleasant is dukkha. Failure in getting what one wants is dukkha. It is the very
nature of desire to breed new desires.
So, far we have seen, dukkha connotes not only the well-known phenomena
of illness, disease, old age, and death, which the Buddha had witnessed early
in his life but also the deeper metaphysical truth that everything is impermanent. The Buddha, however, did not stop here; he provided the third tier of
dukkha, i.e., sa ṇkh āra–dukkha.
It is the dukkha of “conditioned” experience. “Condition,” in this context,
signifes volitions that cause rebirth. Sa ṇkh āra–dukkha includes a basic unsatisfactoriness that characterizes entire existence, including that which we call
an “I” or a “being.” An “I” is a union of changing, impermanent physical and
mental aggregates; to search for permanence in an existence characterized by
impermanence also causes dukkha.
The above analysis reveals the complex nature of the Buddha’s concept
of “dukkha.” It is dissatisfaction, discontent, disharmony, incompleteness, imperfection, ineffciency, physical and mental suffering, the confict between
our desires and our accomplishments, the suffering produced on account of
change, old age, disease, and death. It is the opposite of perfection, harmony,
bliss, happiness, and well-being. Impermanence, the relativity of pleasure and
pain, passivity (i.e., subjection to the causal chain), the lack of freedom and
spontaneity, conditioned experiences, all point to the fact that existence is dukkha. Thus, when rightly understood, the truth that existence is dukkha implies a
rejection of all metaphysics of permanence and replacing it with a metaphysics of impermanence. Ultimately, it suggests that metaphysical thinking ought
to be avoided altogether.
Given that dukkha exists, the question arises, what is the cause of it? Is there
an end to it? If there is an end, how do we reach it?
The Origin of Dukkha
The Second Noble Truth discusses the origin of dukkha, that there is a cause of
dukkha. Like a true medicine man, the Buddha states that one cannot cure the
disease unless one is able to identify its root cause. The Buddha says:
Now this, O recluses, is the noble truth concerning the origin of suffering. Verily it originates in that craving thirst which causes the renewal
of becoming, is accompanied by sensual delight, and seeks satisfaction
now here…that is to say, the craving for the gratifcation of the passions,
or the craving for a future life, or the craving for success in this present
life (the lust of the fesh, the lust of life, or the pride of life).7
The immediate cause of dukkha, the Buddha argued, is t ṛṣṇā, which is generally, though wrongly, translated as “desire.” Rather, t ṛṣṇā, is closer in meaning
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to “thirst,” indicating the cravings of fnite individuals, their selfsh needs and
desires. These desires in turn breed attachments resulting in frustrations and
disappointments, i.e., dukkha. But the remote and ultimate cause of dukkha
is ignorance (avidyā) of the nature of things. The ignorance consists in mistaking what is impermanent for something permanent. There is nothing
permanent, whether in the external world or within oneself. On account
of ignorance, we ascribe to our own selves as well as to others a permanent
soul, and we ascribe permanent essences to the objects of the world. The
belief in permanence leads to desire, which in turn leads to attachments
causing rebirth, which is dukkha. Accordingly, we have here a large thesis
ready for generations of Buddhist thinkers to refect upon, viz., to determine
what precisely constitutes existence, and how precisely to construe the idea
of “desire.”
The second and the third noble truth are based on the doctrine of the Dependent Origination, an important doctrine in the Buddhist teachings. It
states that all dharmas (“phenomena”) arise depending upon other dharmas:
“When this is, that comes to be; on the arising of that, this arises. When this
is not, that is not; on the cessation of that, this ceases.” This doctrine, when
applied to the specifc case of human existence, takes the form of a well-known
twelve-membered chain, which I will detail a little later. Suffce it to note here
that dukkha arises when we crave and cling to these changing phenomena.
The clinging and craving produce karmas, and bind us to sa ṃsāra, the round of
death and rebirth. These cravings include craving for sense-pleasures during
our lives and craving to continue the cycle of life and death itself. In short, the
list is traditionally interpreted as describing the conditional arising of rebirth
in sa ṃsāra, and the resultant dukkha.
At this juncture, it is important to underscore an important point. There
is no concept of “original sin” in Buddhism, and no one is foreordained to
be damned. There is no forgiveness of sins, no atonement because there
is no one with the power to bestow forgiveness. Every cause gives rise to
its inevitable effect; if we understand the cause-effect chain, then we can
remove it if we wish to do so. Otherwise, the cause-effect chain, i.e., the
never-ending cycle of birth and death continues.
The Cessation of Dukkha
The Third Noble Truth is an assurance that the disease, the basic problem
of human existence, is curable. In other words, it is the assurance that dukkha
can end. In the Buddha’s words: “it is the destruction, in which no craving
remains over, of this very thirst; the laying aside of, the getting rid of, the
being free from, the harboring no longer of, this thirst.”8 This cessation or
extinguishing or extinction of all desires is nirvāṇa.
It is not easy to ascertain precisely what the Buddha meant by nirv āṇa.
Scholars have raised such questions as: If to exist is to desire, then does the
cessation of all desires means cessation of existence? Is nirvāṇa a negative state
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of ceasing to be? Or, is it also a positive experience of bliss? The Buddhist
schools (yet to be discussed)9 differ among themselves on this important question. We know, for example, that Nāgārjuna distinguished nirvāṇa from all
ways of looking (dṛṣṭis) at things. I will discuss some of these questions in the
concluding section of this chapter.
Etymological meanings of nirvāṇa, such as “cessation of,” “ceasing to be”
or “blown out” suggest to some scholars that in nirvāṇa existence, which is
permeated by dukkha, is extinguished. Nothing could be further from the
truth. The Buddhist thinkers wrestled with the problem of describing nirvāṇa
in more positive terms. One thing is obvious: Nirvāṇa is not a negative state of
ceasing to be.
The Buddha’s life testifes to this. The Buddha lived for forty-fve years
after attaining nirv āṇa, teaching and showing laypersons how to attain nirv āṇa. So, it is safe to say that, in nirv āṇa, dukkha ceases to be, not the person
himself. If the Buddha were alive today, he would have said that the words
“positive” and “negative” are relative; they are applicable in a realm that is
characterized by conditionality, duality, and relativity. Nirv āṇa is freedom
from relativity, conditionality, and all evils; it is not the annihilation of a
person, it is “Truth,” the term that the Buddha uses unequivocally several
times in the place of nirv āṇa. One, who has attained nirv āṇa has extinguished
cravings; he has become an “arhat.”
Arhat
•
•
Literally, it means, “worthy” or “venerable.” The term is used in
Therāvāda Buddhism for the person who has reached the highest
stage of spiritual development.
Therāvādins require four extinctions for arhatship: (1) sensual desires, (2) desire to be, (3) wrong views, and (4) ignorance. A person
who has conquered all four attains arhatship. So, the arhat is free
from cravings, passions, desires, and rebirth.
The question is often asked what happens to an arhat after death? This was
one of the ten questions that the Buddha refused to discuss. Human language
is designed to describe empirical objects. No word or sentence can capture
meaningfully what happens to an arhat; however, this much is certain: Desires, passions, the feelings of “I” and “mine,” etc., which are rooted in egoism, are destroyed upon becoming an arhat.
Nirvāṇa, the highest accomplishment of life in Buddhism, has been used by
various religious groups as a generic term to refer to enlightenment. Nirvāṇa
is freedom from dukkha, which encompasses within its fold grief, lamentation,
pain, sorrow, sadness, despair, discontent, incompleteness, dissatisfaction, etc.
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Dukkha occurs due to desires, attachments, and cravings; the freedom of nirvāṇa is freedom from these attachments. Ignorance (avidyā), however, is the
root cause of desire, attachments, and cravings, so the goal is to free oneself
from ignorance. As soon as the hold of ignorance is broken, a person attains
nirvāṇa. The fourth noble truth outlines the path to attaining nirvāṇa.
The Noble Eightfold Path
The Fourth Noble Truth lays down the Noble Eightfold Path for the attainment of nirvāṇa.
The Noble Eightfold Path10
Śila, Wisdom
1 Right view
Knowledge of the Four Noble truths and the
Middle Way
2 Right intention
Renunciation of worldly attachments, ill-will, and
harming others, resolve to follow the path
Śila, Ethical Practice
3 Right speech
Abstaining from lying; being kind, open, and
truthful
4 Right action
Refraining from killing, stealing, lying,
intoxication, and performing peaceful, honest,
and pure actions
5 Right livelihood
Freedom from hurt and danger to another human
being
Sam ādhi, Meditation
6 Right effort
Effort to prevent unwholesome thoughts from
arising, to renounce unwholesome thoughts, to
develop and retain positive thoughts
7 Right mindfulness
Having an active, watchful mind
8 Right
concentration
Meditating deeply on the realities of life
The Noble Eightfold Path is usually divided into three groups: Sila, sam ādhi,
and prajñ ā. (1) Śila consists of ethical practices: Right speech, right action, and
right living. (2) Sam ādhi consists of different stages of meditation: Right effort,
right mindfulness, and right concentration. (3) Prajñ ā of knowledge and wisdom: Right view and right intention or resolve.
The Buddha reiterated that these steps must be cultivated simultaneously
and not successively because he believed that virtue and wisdom purify each
other, and thus the two are inseparable. One begins with the right view, and
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the remaining seven steps of the path are interdependent. Repeated contemplation, steadfast determination, and continuous effort (performing good
deeds) habituate and train the will, giving rise to a personality in which one
fnds a fne assimilation of pure will and emotion, reason and intuition, which
is perfect insight, i.e., nirvāṇa. It is worth noting that the Noble Eightfold Path
shares similarities with the practice described in Patañjali’s Yogas ūtras; the extent and signifcance of these similarities warrant a separate discussion.
Although the Eightfold Path might be viewed as a kind of moral catechism
or a list of negative injunctions (what to avoid), or as providing a list of virtues,
a proper understanding of the path includes seeing how steadfastly following
the integrated components of the path keep the practitioner along the Middle
Way. The central question is how precisely to orient one’s life so that one is on
the way to attaining nirvāṇa. For this purpose, the Buddha developed the eightfold path, and the major portion of the frst sermon is devoted to describing it.
The Buddha repeatedly emphasized that one should pay close attention
to how his actions affect those who are around them. Our actions should
include the welfare of all, our own self, and the selves of others. Five wrong
actions are specifcally mentioned in the Buddhist texts: Killing and hurting others, stealing, false speech, immoral sex life, and the consumption of
alcoholic beverages. These are wrong because they cause harm to our own
self and others. Abstaining from these fve wrong actions constitute the Five
Buddhist Precepts.
Five Buddhist Precepts11
1
2
3
4
5
I undertake the rule of training to refrain from killing or hurting
living things.
I undertake the rule of training to refrain from appropriating what
belongs to others.
I undertake the rule of training to refrain from falsehood.
I undertake the rule of training for self-control.
I undertake the rule of training to refrain from making myself a
nuisance.
It is not only by following the strict path of ethical self-control, avoiding
extremes, and following the Middle Path but also by training one’s mind to
focus exclusively upon the truth that one eventually attains wisdom and freedom from dukkha.
The Four Noble Truths play an important role in the Buddha’s overall
teachings. “All formations are subject to dukkha,” is one of the three characteristics of existence that form the foundation of his teachings. The other two
characteristics are: “all formations are ‘non-eternal’ (anitya),12 and all things
are ‘without a self’ (anatt ā).”
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The Buddhist concept of annicā or the law of impermanence or transiency
of all things fnds classical expression in the famous formula “sabbe sa ṇkh ārā
aniccā,”13 and in the more popular statement annicā vata sankh ārā. Both these
formulas amount to saying that all conditioned things or processes are transient or impermanent. All conditioned things (sa ṅkh āra) are in a constant state
of fux. Human life embodies this fux in the aging process, and the cycle
of repeated birth and death (sa ṃsāra). Nothing lasts, and everything decays.
There is no being; there is only ceaseless becoming. And what is impermanent
is dukkha.
III All Things are Impermanent (Anitya)
“All is impermanent (sarvam anityam)” was one of the Buddha’s frequent utterances. All schools of Buddhism subscribe to the thesis of impermanence,
though their interpretations vary. There are two aspects of it: Negative and
positive. The negative thesis states that there is nothing permanent; everything
is in perpetual fux. Due to the limitations of our sensory apparatus, we are
not able to perceive change, though change is taking place all the time. Permanence, essence, unchanging substances, exist only in thought and not in
reality.
Regarding the positive thesis, there is no unanimity. One dominant version of the positive thesis asserts that everything is momentary. Such modern
scholars as Kalupahana, who represent the Ceylonese Buddhism, argue that
the Buddha himself only taught the doctrine of impermanence and that the
“doctrine of moments” was “formulated from a logical analysis of the process
of change” by the later Buddhists.14
The denial of permanence must be understood in the context of the important idea of the eternal self of the Upaniṣads. Rejecting the soul of the
Upaniṣads, the Buddha held that there is nothing eternal, neither in the
external world nor in the inner life of consciousness. Given that everything
is conditional and relative, everything passes through the process of birth,
growth, decay, and death. The search for permanence leads us in a false direction, and all false doctrines arise from the misconception that there are
permanent essences. The Buddha’s goal was to demonstrate the all-pervasive
nature of dukkha and show people how to alleviate it. He believed that craving
for something or the other lasts forever, and the realization that everything is
impermanent would lead to the pacifcation of cravings. Thus, the doctrine of
impermanence is not only theoretically important, but it is also of considerable practical and spiritual importance.
The idea of impermanence became the focus of Buddhism; however, from the
exposition of the Sanskrit critical literature on Buddhism, we learn that on the
Buddhist view, everything is also momentary. Whether this positive thesis correctly represents the earliest Buddhist view, is diffcult to ascertain. However,
there is no doubt that many Buddhist philosophies, especially Tibetan and Chinese Buddhism, do in fact subscribe to the doctrine of momentariness.
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The doctrine of momentariness states that things arise and then perish.
Between the two, the arising and the perishing, there is only one moment of
being, and, in the disputational literature, even this moment of being, which
separates the arising from the perishing, came to be challenged. The thesis
that things last only for a moment (leaving out the difficult question of what
precisely is meant by a “moment”), is made to rest upon an argument that
runs as follows:
1
2
3
4
5
6
To exist is to be causally efficacious.
To be causally efficacious is to produce such effects as are possible.
So, for an entity to exist is to produce such effects as it is capable of
producing.
But in producing these effects, all of an entity’s causal power is actualized.
If all of an entity’s causal power is actualized, no more causal efficacy
remains.
If no more causal efficacy remains, the entity by definition would cease to
exist.
In this argument, in the first premise (to exist is to be causally efficacious), the
definition of existence as causal efficacy is of central importance. According
to this definition, nothing can exist for more than a moment, and the causal
power that a thing has must be spent in the very first moment of its being.
The Hindu writers who believed not only in the eternal soul but also things
that may exist for a stretch of time, believed in the possibility that an entity’s
entire causal efficacy is expended not at the very first moment of its being but
over a stretch of time, implying thereby that while some power or efficacy is
being actualized at the very first moment, some can remain potential. The
Buddhists vehemently denied this. They argued that there is no “potential
power,” but rather that every power that we can meaningfully talk about is the
power that is actualized. Therefore, given the two assumptions that (1) to exist
is to be causally efficacious, and (2) to have causal power is to produce all the
effects an entity is capable of producing at the very first moment of its being,
it follows that an entity can exist only for a moment.
Later Buddhist writers carried this thesis to its logical consequence. Of
the supposed three moments in the biography of an entity, arising → being →
perishing, it is the second, i.e., being, can be eliminated, leaving only arisings
and perishings, which is precisely the doctrine of momentariness carried to the
logical end.
Their zeal for taking thought to its furthest logical consequence did not
stop even here. The Mahāyāna writers, following Nāgārjuna, argued that the
moment of arising itself must arise and perish, and so also the moment of
perishing so that there would be an arising of arising, a perishing of arising,
an arising of perishing, and a perishing of perishing. Each of these again
would lead to similar internal splits and we would find ourselves in a vicious
infinite regress. The above led to the result that the doctrine of impermanence,
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even in its iteration as a doctrine of momentariness, is not a metaphysically
true representation of reality; that like all representations, it is also śūnya or
empty. Hence the conclusion of the doctrine of impermanence is the thesis of
emptiness.
In this brief account, I have tried to trace the development of the impermanence thesis from the early Therāvāda Buddhism to the Mahāyāna’s śūnyat ā
(emptiness) thesis. It is always good to remember that the Buddhist philosophy
has been a historically developing philosophy and it is always useful to trace
the path that its history has traversed. I will revisit some of these issues in the
chapter on the schools of Buddhist philosophy.
It is not only that things are conditioned and impermanent, but human
existence is also impermanent. Human life embodies this fux in the aging
process and the cycle of repeated birth and death (sa ṃsāra). However, the
Buddhists were frm in their denial of a permanent self or ātman that persists
through and beyond this fux.
IV All Elements of Being are No-Self (Anattā)
As discussed earlier, the Upaniṣads postulate an identical ātman in all human
beings and hold that an “I,” an individual self, is a combination of a body and
a soul. The Buddha, in his sermons, gives a very different answer to the question: Who am I? The Buddha’s anatt ā (no-soul), is the opposite of the Hindu
doctrine of att ā, that there is a permanent soul.
The Five Skandhas
1
2
3
4
5
Bodily form
Sensations
Perceptions (recognition, understanding, and naming)
Dispositions
Consciousness
The Buddha argued that there is no soul or ātman; a self is composed of fve
skandhas: Bodily form (matter or body), sensations (feelings, sensations, etc.,
sense object contact, generating desire), perceptions (recognition, understanding, and naming), dispositions (impressions of karmas), and consciousness.
These fve aggregates together are known as “n āma-r ūpa.” R ūpa signifes body,
and n āma stands for various such processes as feelings, sensations, perceptions,
ideas, and so on. These fve skandhas that constitute the self are themselves
impermanent; so, they cannot give rise to a permanent self.
The Buddha provided many similes to explain the arising of the self. One of
his favorite examples was that of a chariot. A chariot is nothing more than an
arrangement of the axle, wheels, pole, and other constituent parts in a certain
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order, but when we take the constituents apart, there is no chariot. Similarly,
“I” is nothing but an arrangement of fve skandhas in a certain order, but when
we examine the skandhas one by one, we fnd that there is no permanent entity,
there is no “I,” there is only a name (n āma) and a form (r ūpa).15
At this point, readers may wonder, if there is no permanent self, who or
what is reborn? The Buddha uses the metaphor of the fame of a lamp to explain rebirth. He argues that life is a fame, and rebirth, is the transmission of
the fame from one aggregate to another. If we light one candle from another,
the communicated fame is one and the same, the candle, however, is not the
same.
Upon death, the union of the fve skandhas dissolves, but the momentum,
the karmas of that former union, give rise to another union of fve skandhas. Accordingly, rebirth is the “endless transmission of such an impulse through an
endless series of forms.” Nirvāṇa is the realization that the self is a union of fve
impermanent skandhas that dissolve at death, and “that nothing is transmitted
but an impulse, a vis a tergo, dependent on the heaping up of the past. It is a
man’s character, and not himself, that goes on.”16 Any existent individual self
is the karmic result of defnite antecedents. Rebirth is only a manifestation of
cause and effect. Impressions of karmas generate life after life, and the nature
and character of successive lives are determined by the goodness and badness
of the actions performed previously.
The Buddha’s rejection of an underlying permanent substance (soul) behind the ever-changing skandhas is not merely an intellectual analysis. The
following points are worth noting:
First, on the Buddha’s analysis, the denial of a permanent self or soul does
not destroy the notion of an empirical self or personality. “Self” or “being”
means a union of impermanent skandhas; when the skandhas dissolve, the self
disappears and we have death. In so denying a ‘self,’ the Buddha deemphasized the ego-oriented framework of language; if there is no “I,” “you,” or
“my,” then “I belong,” “I own,” etc., do not make much sense.
Secondly, although the Buddha denied the existence of a soul, he argued
for the continuity of the karmas. A self, argued the Buddha, is merely an aggregation of fve skandhas; so long as the karmas providing the momentum for
aggregation remain the same, for all practical purposes we recognize a person
as ‘the same.’ But these karmas are not restricted to one union; they pass on
to others and remain in them even after one’s death. Thus, when one person
dies, karmas give rise to another union of fve skandhas, and this process goes on
until one attains nirvāṇa.
Thirdly, the denial amounts to rejecting all principles of identity in favor
of the idea of the difference. According to the att ā theory, everything in the
world—not only a human being but also the mountain I see over there, this
pen with which I write—has its own identity across time. A human being can
be identifed, reidentifed, perceived, remembered, and referred to by such
names as Bina Gupta, while perception and memory, and recognition guarantee us that this is the same Bina Gupta I encountered before.
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Buddhist philosophers consider this position to be naive, not only because
it involves believing that names designate real things but also because it involves believing in the validity of perception, memory, and recognition. Once
the referential theory of meaning is rejected and the ability of perception to
convey its own validity is questioned, we then begin to see the plausibility
of the Buddhist theory. Names do not simply name a thing, but they help to
bring together many percepts under a common concept by virtue of their
similarity; by this means they contribute to the construction of the world.
The name “Bina Gupta” creates the impression that there is an identity between the person seen in Columbia twenty years ago, and the person seen in
Philadelphia today. The differences between these percepts are being glossed
over, aided by using the name. Likewise, when we consider the name “Ganges,” we must remember that the river Ganges in Patna and the Ganges near
Vā r āṇasī are not the same Ganges. In the same sense that Heraclitus argued
that we never step in the same river twice, the Buddha argued that the inner
is actually a process of change, arrested by the use of a name. The rapidity
of succession creates an illusion of identity; identity is only the continuity of
becoming. Ignorance creates the false impression of identity; however, only
becoming exists.
It is important to remember in this context that things are really aggregates
of parts, those parts again of other parts and that the last constituents are the
momentary events that arise and perish. We do not perceive these momentary
events and given that we do not perceive the constituent parts, we cannot
claim to be perceiving the whole. Indeed, the Buddhist denies the thesis that
there are genuine wholes that arise out of the combination of parts. It is the
language that makes us believe that we perceive wholes even though we do
not perceive their constituent parts. Thus, what we perceive is really a construct, and in this construction, language plays an important role. This chain
of argument is designed to make us see that the alleged identical object is a
construct out of differences that perpetually escape our grasp.
Fourthly, it follows from everything that has been said so far that there is
no universal (sām ānya) of which particulars are instantiations as Plato and
Naiy āyikas would have it. Rather, a universal is constructed from particulars by virtue of their similarity aided by the use of language. Some Hindu
metaphysical theorists, such as M ī māṃ s ā , believe that the word “cow” signifes “cowness”; alternately, on the Ny āya account, the word “cow” signifes
a particular cow, as qualifed by the universal “cowness.” The Buddhists
reject this theory of meaning and replace it with the apoha theory. In its
simplest formulation, the apoha theory holds that the word “cow” does not
signify “cowness,” but rather “not-non-cow.” This amounts to saying that
one of the functions of language is exclusionary, that is, to indicate what a
thing is not, emphasizing difference, rather than to indicate what it is, emphasizing identity.
It is not necessary here to enter into the complicated and unending disputes between Hindu and Buddhist semantic theories; suffce it to note that
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(1) Buddhist an ātm ā theory, (2) anti-essentialism, (3) anti-referentialism, and
(4) prioritization of differences over identity, hang together. It is also worth
noting that the Buddhist philosophers anticipated contemporary antiessentialism arguments and the prioritization of difference, which one fnds
in the writings of such twentieth century philosophers as the French deconstructionist Derrida.
Buddhism rejects both (1) Upani ṣ adic essentialism, which posits an enduring, substantial ātman shared by all human beings that persists through
multiple reincarnations, and (2) traditional Christian accounts of unique
individual souls that are incarnated only once. Buddhism affrms the self
to be an epiphenomenon of the fve impermanent skandhas, which cannot,
as such, give rise to a permanent self. An individual’s existence, his being,
is in fact a becoming—it is an event, a process. Any account of this process
mandates that there must be an adequate cause to explain it. The Buddha
explains anatt ā in terms of the doctrine of karma, the doctrine of cause and
effect. Thus, the Buddha favors a process philosophy, though the process
with a structure. The Buddha’s doctrine of the twelve-membered chain of
the Dependent Origination illustrates this process philosophy, which I will
discuss next.
V Dependent Origination (Pratītyasamutpāda)
A common theme of all Buddhist philosophies is the doctrine of Dependent Origination. It is essentially the Buddhist doctrine of causality. Etymologically, “samutp āda” means, “arising in combination,” or “co-arising.”
However, when prefxed with the term “prat ītya” (which means “moving”
or “leaning”), the term implies “dependence.” Accordingly, “prat ītyasamutp āda,” has generally been translated as “Dependent Arising,” “Dependent
Origination,” etc.
In the Buddhist texts, the formula of Dependent Origination has often been
expressed in the following words: “When this is, that comes to be; on the arising of that, this arises. When this is not, that is not; on the cessation of that,
this ceases.”17 It means that, depending on the cause, the effect arises; when
the cause ceases to exist, the effect also ceases to exist. Dukkha being a fact of
existence must have a cause, and, when the cause of dukkha is removed, the
dukkha also ceases to exist. The doctrine of Dependent Origination, essentially
a doctrine of causality, includes within its fold such important interrelated
notions as, ignorance, karma, moral responsibility, rebirth, craving, death, the
nature of psychophysical personality, and consciousness.
The Buddha detailed this doctrine in the context of explaining the doctrine
of the Middle Way in the Discourse to K ātyāyana—
On ignorance depends karma;
On karma depends consciousness;
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On consciousness depend name and form;
On name and form depend the six organs of sense;
On the six organs of sense depends contact;
On contact depends sensation;
On sensation depends desire;
On desire depends attachment;
On attachment depends existence;
On existence depends birth;
On birth depend old age and death, sorrow, lamentation, misery,
grief, and despair. Thus, this entire aggregation of misery arise.18
Given that everything arises depending on some conditions when these conditions and causes are removed, the effect is also removed. Again, in the Buddha’s words:
But on the complete fading out and cessation of ignorance ceases karma;
On the cessation of karma ceases consciousness;
On the cessation of consciousness cease name and form;
On the cessation of name and form cease the six organs of sense;
On the cessation of the six organs of sense ceases contact;
On the cessation of contact ceases sensation;
On the cessation of sensation ceases desire;
On the cessation of desire ceases attachment;
On the cessation of attachment ceases existence;
On the cessation of existence ceases birth;
On the cessation of birth cease old age and death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair.
Thus, does this entire aggregation of misery cease.19
There are twelve links in the causal chain of Dependent Origination. Because
of (1) ignorance (avidy ā ), an individual accumulates (2) impressions of karmas,
which are responsible for bringing about the renewal of the present embodiment. (3) A vague consciousness provides the link between the past and the
present embodiment; the nature of this consciousness depends on the actions
and desires of the previous embodiments. Gradually, (4) the embryonic consciousness assumes a psychophysical form, develops (5) sense organs, and (6)
contact of the sense organs with sense objects results in (7) all sorts of pleasant
and unpleasant experiences. An individual thus (8) craves pleasant experiences and tries to avoid unpleasant ones, and (9) clings to the idea of permanence. Consequently, (10) a desire to be born again is created, resulting in
(11) birth and (12) death.
It is worth noting that each of these twelve factors is both conditioned and
that which conditions. Thus, the psychophysical form one assumes is conditioned not only by what one experiences in this life but also by the way
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The Twelve Links of the Causal Chain of Dependent Origination
Passive
Active
Past
1 Ignorance (avidyā)
2 Karmas
Present
3. Initial consciousness
4 Psycho-physical organism
5 Sense organs
6 Sense object contact
7 Sensory experience
8 Craving (t ṛṣṇā)
9 Clinging
10 Becoming
Future
11 Birth
12 Death
in which one responds to these experiences. Links (1)–(7), existing in the
relative past and present, are passive insofar as no one can control them because they are the result of past actions. But from the eighth link (thirst,
desire) to the tenth moral will plays an important role. Although the normal
response to a pleasant experience is to cling to it and try to prolong it, one
can through moral will proceed in the opposite direction, and there will be
neither clinging nor grasping. If one realizes that pleasurable experiences
are temporary and controls his cravings, desires, etc., he will begin to have
a better understanding of his own personality and the world that surrounds
him, leading him to wisdom. On the other hand, if one’s actions are the result of cravings and clinging to pleasurable experiences, then the desire to be,
to continue, will be created, thereby giving rise to another collection of name
and form—to be born, live, and die again and again. Thus, thirst, clinging,
and becoming are the most important active components of the twelve links
of the wheel of Dependent Origination.
The doctrine of Dependent Origination is the foundation of the Buddha’s teachings. It explains the nature of sa ṃsāra, the world where dukkha is
manifested, and points to the relativity of all things. In the empirical world,
everything is relative, dependent, and accordingly, subject to decay and death.
In order to understand the originality of this view, we should bear in mind several features of this doctrine:
First, Buddhism affrms that an effect arises when all the causal conditions are present; it is constantly a new beginning, and in so asserting, the
Buddha rejects both varieties of satk āryavāda and asatk āryavāda.20 Note that
the Buddhist is not thinking of a distinct event called “cause” and another
event called “effect.” Causality is not a relation between two events but a
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relation between many preceding events, all of which lead to the arising
of the succeeding event. The succeeding event arises or comes into being
when all the causal conditions are present. Let me explain with the help of
an example: What precisely produces a visual perception? For the Buddhist,
it includes a properly functioning visual sense organ, a visually perceptible
object out there, auxiliary light, such conditions as the contact of the visual
organ with the object, the previous perceptions, and their impressions. The
twelve-membered chain of human life gives a picture of a similar chain of
causation which binds the arising of one life, of the embodied consciousness,
to previous lives.
Secondly, the doctrine of Dependent Origination covers the three dimensions of time; it makes a person in the present life a result of the past and a
cause of the future. The wheel of Dependent Origination operates without
any brahman, lawgiver, or God. There is no frst cause, no absolute beginning;
each cause is an effect of the preceding causes and gives rise to the succeeding
ones. This view postulates neither predeterminism nor complete freedom; it
instead affrms an interdependence of conditions, some of which are within a
person’s control.
In the fnal analysis, we are responsible for who we are and what we become. The cycle does not end with death; death is only the beginning of another life. It is a circular chain; the twelfth link is joined to the frst one. One
may begin with the twelfth link, and ask:
Why do we suffer old age and death?
Because we are born.
Why are we born?
Because there is a will to be born.
Why is there a will to be born?
Because we cling to the objects of the world.
Why do we cling to the objects of the world?
Because of the craving to enjoy the objects of the world.
Why do we crave?
Because of sense-experience.
Why sense-experience?
Because of sense-object contact.
Why sense-object contact?
Because of sense organs.
Why sense organs?
Because of psychophysical organism.
Why psychophysical organism?
Because of initial consciousness of the embryo.
Why initial consciousness of the embryo?
Because of karmas.
Why karmas?
Because of ignorance.
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Thus, ignorance is the root cause of dukkha. Impressions of karmas give rise
to an unending series of physical and mental formations until ignorance is
destroyed. Everything depends on to what degree the cravings are brought
under control. Until the impressions of the karmas are completely rooted
out, fresh sprouting of the physical and mental formations is generated;
the cycle comes to a stop when the impressions are destroyed by the right
knowledge.
It is easy to see that this understanding of the chain of causation can
only be provisional. For once one rejects the simple linear chain of cause
and effect—that is, “one cause, one effect”—then one cannot remain satisfied with its expansion to say, four causes and one effect. In other words,
one cannot stop short of saying that an effect arises not only depending
upon the conditions of one body, mind, and society but also on the entire
nature of the material world and the totality of the universe. On this view,
which is shared by many schools of Mah ā y ā na, especially Zen Buddhism,
I am not an identifiable entity standing apart from the universe, not an
individual in the modern Western Cartesian sense of the ego, but a process
upon which all nature and all other humans and living beings are having
an impact.
Thus, while the understanding and formulation of the doctrine of Dependent Origination begin with the rejection of a linear chain of causation, one
cannot but expand it to the point where one begins to see that every change
in the universe depends upon everything else. The only way to get out of it is
by attaining nirvāṇa.
VI Nirvāṇa
It might be obvious that the view of Dependent Origination found in Zen
Buddhism completely transforms the way one understands the concept of
“nirvāṇa.” Without a doubt, the idea of nirvāṇa is the culmination of Buddhist
philosophy, just as attaining nirvāṇa is the goal pursued by the Buddhist aspirant. But what precisely is nirvāṇa and how to understand it? If we take the earliest reading of the Buddha, the word “nirvāṇa” conceals a metaphor, viz., that
of blowing out a lamp as if by a gust of wind; it is the complete overcoming of
dukkha. Questions about nirvāṇa have played an important role in the history
of Buddhist philosophy. Some of these questions are:
1
2
3
Is nirvāṇa a negative state of cessation of pain or a positive state of bliss?
Or, is it something that cannot be described by either term?
Is nirvāṇa a state that one attains, or arrives at, at the conclusion of a process? Is it brought about or is it eternally present? If the latter, how can
there be an eternal nirvāṇa given the doctrine of impermanence?
Is the distinction between sa ṃsāra and nirvāṇa a distinction between two
mutually exclusive realms, such that the Buddha upon attaining nirvāṇa
left sa ṃsāra?
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4
Is the pursuit of nirvāṇa not a selfsh pursuit? To put it differently, is the
expression “my nirvāṇa” a coherent notion? Can there be nirvāṇa for one
person before everyone else attains it?
I think answering these questions, or at least trying to understand the aporia
articulated in them, would lead to a better and deeper understanding of the
concept of “nirvāṇa.” Given space limitations, it is not possible to discuss these
questions in detail. For our purposes, the following should suffce.
In early Buddhism, at least in some of the schools, such as the Sautrāntika, nirvāṇa was construed in purely negative terms as a complete cessation
of suffering. But gradually this negative conception of nirvāṇa was replaced
by a more positive understanding, according to which the cessation of dukkha
brings about the complete transformation of existence, not its extinction. The
Buddhists still hesitated to say that nirvāṇa is a state of bliss.
Understandings and interpretations of nirvāṇa continued to change, culminating in Nāgārjuna’s statement that nirvāṇa and sa ṃsāra are the same, that
they are two sides of the same coin—a statement that has both puzzled and
inspired Nāgārjuna scholars since. What did he mean by it?
Nirvāṇa is a mode of existence that one attains when one experiences the
truth of sa ṃsāra. The picture that one must transcend sa ṃsāra before reaching
nirvāṇa is misleading and wrong. If suffering is due to cravings, and cravings
are due to avidyā (ignorance) reinforcing the illusion of permanence and eternity, then nirvāṇa is the realization of the truth of impermanence. The idea of
permanence, as stated earlier, is due to the way conceptual thinking embodied
in language constructs the world. The path to nirvāṇa would be the path of
seeking complete deconceptualization, freeing oneself from the way our view
of the world is bewitched by language, and getting rid of all metaphysical representations of reality. The world remains what it is; only now, it experienced
in its truth, and that is nirvāṇa.
Ignorance makes us ascribe identity and permanence not only to the self
but also to objects in this empirical world. This ignorance is dispelled by the
right view that neither the self nor the things in the world are permanent;
they are impermanent aggregates or processes, bound together by the chain
of causation. When we see the truth of things, we realize that there is no
enduring self, no permanent things in the world. This realization results in a
kind of desirelessness (because who will desire what?), with no cravings; there
is no pleasure and pain, and so no suffering. This freedom is called “nirvāṇa.”
Nirvāṇa stops rebirth by breaking the causal chain of Dependent Origination.
It is not the result of a process; it is not brought about by anything. Nirvāṇa—
truth—simply is.
Buddhist thinking began with the idea of individual nirvāṇa. In Therāvāda
Buddhism, an individual who attains nirvāṇa becomes an arhat. Mahāyāna
replaces this idea with that of the bodhisattva, who after attaining nirvāṇa, helps
others to attain it too. A bodhisattva recognizes that their own nirvāṇa is a lesser
or minor nirvāṇa, only completed by nirvāṇa for all.
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Bodhisattva (A Buddha-to-be)
•
•
•
Bodhisattva literally means an “enlightenment being,” a future Buddha, one who has postponed their own nirvāṇa to help others attain
nirvāṇa.
In early Pā li literature, the designation “Bodhisattva” was used only
to identify Siddhārtha Gautama (the historical Buddha), and only
future Buddhas merited this title prior to their enlightenment.
In Mahāyāna Buddhism, this term came to signify an enlightened
being who, though standing at the door of nirvāṇa, defers his own
nirvāṇa to help others attain it.
Scholars at times argue that nirvāṇa is the Buddhist counterpart of the
Hindu mok ṣa. It is true that the Buddha used a new word for a concept that
was in a certain sense already existed in the Upaniṣads and so already in
the brāhma ṇic culture. Nobody would disagree that nirvāṇa and mok ṣa are the
highest goals of life in Buddhism and the brāhma ṇic traditions, respectively.
“Nirvāṇa,” however, is not simply a new designation; the concept itself is markedly different from the Hindu mok ṣa, especially when nirvāṇa is taken literally
as “ceasing to be” or “extinction.” The Hindu philosophers—except for the
Vaiśeṣika21—describe mok ṣa, as a state of bliss. The Buddhist philosophers,
over the centuries, have differed considerably in their understanding of nirvāṇa. While always denoting “extinction,” the object of extinction is not the
individual, but his selfsh desires, cravings, and subsequently, the extinction
of continued rebirth.
It is important to remember in this connection that neither the Buddhist
nirvāṇa nor the Hindu mok ṣa is “caused” (for whatever is caused, ceases to be);
both are called “unconditioned,” both are beyond time, and both are “supersensible.” For the Buddhists and the Hindus alike, ignorance leads to birth after birth. The goal is to free oneself from the clutches of karma and sa ṃsāra, and
this freedom is found—not brought about—by knowledge of the true nature
of the self and the world. In this sense, everyone is already potentially free,
although realizing this freedom requires effort, practice, meditation, and refective knowledge. Though the Buddha rules out excessive self-mortifcation
as well as extreme asceticism and endorses us to follow the Middle Way, some
forms of renunciation, such as renunciation of family and social attachments,
and some forms of asceticism have been recommended. All excesses of behavior are ruled out; the moderate practice of some austerity and asceticism
is part of training and discipline. The followers of the Buddha used to wear a
simple dress and wear robes of the cheapest cotton. Asceticism is detachment
from the things that distract our desires.
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T H E BAU DDH A DA R ŚA NA
Let me conclude with the following note: Both the Hindu and Buddhist
traditions recognize that weakness of the will causes human beings to act according to their passions and desires. A famous Sanskrit prayer sums up this
point beautifully: “ jān āmi dharmam na ca me pravṛtti, jān āmi adharmam na ca me
nivṛtti,” which means “I know what is dharma, but cannot will to do it, I know
what is adharma but cannot will to desist from it.” Then the prayer continues:
“tvayā hṛṣike śa hṛdisthitena, yath ā niyukto’smi tath ā karomi,” which means, “as you,
O’ K ṛṣṇa who resides in my heart, incite me, I will act accordingly.” In other
words, it emphasizes that moral will, operating through its own efforts, comes
to a point when it surrenders its autonomy to divine guidance. This last point,
of course, does not hold good of the teachings of the Buddha, because there is
no God to which to surrender. Thus, the Buddhist has no choice but to rely on
his own efforts in exercising moral will and freedom.
In the Western tradition, Aristotle, and Augustine emphasized the importance of free will; however, in their philosophies, freedom is the freedom to
choose. The Indian tradition has focused upon the idea of freedom from—while
differing among themselves as to what it is one seeks to be free from, and the
means by which such freedom is achieved. Both the Hindus and the Buddhists
understood true freedom as freedom from pain and suffering. Since suffering
is due to desire and craving and the latter is due to ignorance, freedom in the
strict sense is freedom from ignorance (avidyā).
Study Questions
1. Outline the central theses of Buddhism. Was Buddhism an entirely new
philosophy, or did it appropriate any teachings of Hinduism and gave
them a new interpretation?
2. Explain the Buddha’s Doctrine of the Middle Way.
3. What is dukkha? Analyze the Buddha’s Doctrine of the Four Noble Truths.
To what extent do you feel Buddha’s evaluation of the nature of the human predicament (that all life is “suffering”) and his solution to it is valid
or invalid? Answer in detail. If you believe that life involves a lot of “suffering,” to what extent do you feel we in the West attempt to overcome it
and how? How does your approach to the problem differ from that of the
Buddha’s and which one do you fnd more persuasive and why?
4. Buddha states, “the cause of dukkha is ta ṇh ā (craving).” Discuss the meaning and signifcance of the above statement in light of the Buddhist doctrine of Dependent Origination. Be sure to include in your answer an
analysis of the twelve links in the wheel of moral causation.
5. Explain the Buddha’s Doctrines of impermanence and anatt ā. Is nirvāṇa
compatible with the Buddhist doctrines of impermanence and anatt ā.
6. Compare and contrast the Hindu mok ṣa and the Buddhist nirvāṇa.
7. You have completed your reading of the three non-Vedic darśanas. The
questions raised below concern these darśanas.
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N O N -V E D I C D A R Ś A N A S
A Sample Case: A Tenant’s Appeal to the
Landlord Not to Evict Him
•
Suppose you are a landlord. One of your best tenants has been laid off
from his job due to COVID-19, and he is not able to pay rent. You have
the legal right to evict him; you choose to do so. What would the following individuals say of your decision to evict your tenant?
• Based on your reading of the C ārvā ka school, do you believe a
Cārvā kan (materialist) would agree with your decision? If so, why? If
not, why not? Clearly explain the criterion a C ārvā kan would use to
agree or disagree and include in your answer a discussion of some of
the C ārvā kan theses, viz., hedonism, rejection of inference, account of
consciousness, and so on.
• Based on your reading of Jainism, do you think a Jaina would agree
with your decision? If so, why? If not, why not? Clearly explain the criterion a Jaina would use to agree or disagree, and include in your answer
a discussion of the Jaina, non-absolutism, ethics of non-violence, etc.
• Finally, do you think the Buddha would agree with your decision?
If so, why? If not, why not? Clearly explain the criterion the Buddha
would use to agree or disagree, and include in your answer a discussion of some of the Buddhist concepts, viz., dukkha, the Four Noble
Truths, aniccā, anatt ā, nirvāṇa, etc.
•
Conclude your answer with a discussion of why you believe your action
as a landlord to be morally right. Philosophy is about critical thinking. It
is important that you substantiate your position with rational arguments.
Suggested Readings
For the basic concepts of Buddhism, e.g., dukkha, aniccā, anatt ā, nirvāṇa, and
the doctrine of Dependent Origination, see, Walpola Rahula, What the
Buddha Taught (New York: Grove Press, latest), T. W. Rhys Davids, The History and Literature of Buddhism (Vārāṇasī: Bharatiya Publishing House 1975),
and Mark Siderits, Buddhism as philosophy: An introduction (Indianapolis, IN:
Hackett, 2007). David Burton, Buddhism, Knowledge, and Liberation (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004) contains a detailed analysis of the mutual relationship
among the eight steps of the Noble Eightfold Path. O. H. de A. Wijesekra,
The Three Signata (Kandy: Buddhist Publication Society, 1960), contains
an excellent analysis of aniccā, dukkha, and anatt ā. For the Buddha’s life,
enlightenment, and causation, see A. K. Warder, Indian Buddhism (Delhi:
Motilal Banarsidass, 1970), Chapters 3–5.
134
Part V
THE ANCIENT DAR Ś ANAS
The Mīmāṃsā Darśana
The Sāṁ khya Darśana
The Yoga Darśana
The Vaiśeṣika Darśana
The Nyāya Darśana
8
THE M Ī M ĀṂ S Ā DAR Ś A NA
I Introduction
Originating in the attempt to understand and systematize the ritualistic part
of the Vedas, i.e., the “brāhma ṇas,” the M īmāṃsā retained its position (which
it had in antiquity) as the champion of the Vedic orthodoxy. As a philosophy,
it developed into an analytical hermeneutical school, focusing primarily on
a theory of action, especially the supersensuous nature of ritualistic actions
and experiences, and a theory of the interpretation of the Vedic texts. In some
respects, it remained an analytic philosophy (āṇvīk ṣik ī ), and, in other respects,
it was a spiritualistic philosophy.
Etymologically “mīm āṃsā” means “solution of a problem by critical examination,” “refection,” and “critical investigation”; it represents a school or tradition of inquiry or investigation into the meanings of Vedic texts. The Vedas,
the foundational texts of Indian philosophy, have been classifed into karma
k āṇḍa (the ritualistic portion emphasizing actions) and jñāna k āṇḍa (the portion of knowledge). M īmāṃsā focuses on the earlier portion of the Vedas, viz.,
karma k āṇḍa, i.e., on liturgy, the ritualistic actions; so, it is also known as “P ū rva
M īmāṃsā” (p ūrva = previous) or Karma M īmāṃsā. Vedanta investigates the
later portion, viz., jñāna k āṇḍa, i.e., the portion emphasizing the knowledge of
the ātman and the brahman with its focus on Oneness, the central concern of the
Upaniṣadic seers. So, Vedānta is also known as “Uttara M īm āṃsā” (Uttara =
posterior or higher investigation). Eventually, P ū rva M īmāṃsā came to be
known simply as “M īmāṃsā,” and the “Uttara M īmāṃsā” simply as Vedānta.
Jaimini’s s ūtras, known as M īm āṃsās ūtras (400 BCE), is the basic text of
this school. Śabara (CE 200) wrote a commentary (bh āṣya) on it. Two important commentaries on Śabara’s bh āṣya are: Kumārila’s Ślokavārtika (SLV)
and Prabhā kara’s B ṛhat ῑ. Kumārila and Prabhā kara (nicknamed “Guru”) are
the founders of the two schools of M īmāṃsā and the schools are named after
them, viz., Bhāṭṭ a M īmāṃsā and Prābhā kara M īmāṃsā respectively. According to many accounts, Prabhā kara was a student of Kumārila and disagreed
with him on many important points. Ma ṇḍ ana Miśra, the author of several
important works on M īmāṃsā, was Kumārila’s student. Eventually, Śa ṃ kara
initiated Ma ṇḍ ana into Advaita Vedānta.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
Murāri Miśra is the third commentator of Jaimini. Murāri’s works are
not available, and a few that are available are not in print. Other important
expository works of this school are: Śāstrad īpik ā (SD) of Pārthasārathi Miśra
(thirteenth to fourteenth CE), M īm āṃsānyāyaprak āśa of Apadeva (thirteenth
CE) and Arthsa ṇgraha of Laug āṣksi Bhā skara (sixteenth CE).
The central theme of M ī m āṃ s ā is dharma (at the very outset Jaimini
informs his readers, “now begins an inquiry into dharma”),1 and the hermeneutics of the Vedas. What followed were attempts to defne dharma.
Dharma is that which is indicated by the sentences of certain forms, i.e.,
“should-sentences,” known as “codan ā.” These sentences refer to the relevant Vedic discourse assuming the form “one should perform such and
such actions.” The goal of M ī m āṃ s ā is to lead us to a precise determination of the Vedic discourse, in order that practitioners may lead a life of
dharma. The school is also known as Dharma M īm āṃs ā. It focuses upon the
Fundamental Postulates
1 Dharma is the governing force of the universe.
2 There are six pram āṇas: Pratyak ṣa (perception), anum āna (inference), śabda (testimony), upam āna (comparison), arth āpatti (postulation), and anupalabdhi (non-cognition). Prabhā kara does not accept
anupalabdhi.
3 There are innumerable real souls, atoms, and substances.
4 The Vedas are eternal and authorless.
5 The soul is an eternal substance; consciousness is not an essential
quality of the soul.
6 All knowledge is inherently valid.
7 Error:
a
b
Prabhā kara’s hold there is no false or invalid knowledge. One
does not perceive the silver; one simply remembers it (akhyāti).
Bhāṭṭ as error consists in relating two existent but separate
things in the subject–predicate relation. Error is due to wrong
relationship (vipar ītakhyāti).
8 The relation between a word and its meaning is “natural,” and
“eternal,” i.e., it is not brought about by any human agency.
9 Ap ūrva, i.e., unperceived potency, is a necessary causal link between
the ritualistic actions done and their fruits.
10 Actions done with a desire to reap the fruits cause repeated births.
11 Liberation is a state of freedom from pain and desires.
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
rules for interpreting scriptures as a body of injunctions rather than as religious statements about god, soul, and the world. Its goal was (a) to supply a
philosophical justifcation of the beliefs underlying numerous rituals; (b) to
interpret very complex and subtle ritualistic injunctions to maintain order
in the universe, and (c) to promote the personal well-being of the person
performing the ritual. Not having any theoretic use of the idea of god,
M ī m āṃ s ā explains the Vedic deities as posits implied by the performance
of rituals and concerns itself with the motivation for such actions, e.g., the
promised “other-worldly” consequences and their place in the ethical life
of a community.
The Vedic texts are exceedingly obscure and replete with apparent inconsistencies. To resolve these inconsistencies, M ī m āṃ s ā classifed various
texts, formulated the rules of interpretation, and focused its energy on
bringing out the precise meanings of words and sentences. It went on to
develop a rich philosophy not only of language but also of action. Ultimately it developed into an analytical-cum-hermeneutical philosophical
dar śana.
In expounding such a system as P ū rva-M īmāṃsā, it is imperative that we
separate the ritualistic aspects of this school from the strictly philosophical
ones. The key philosophical ideas include the M īmāṃsā theory of knowledge,
truth, and language. On all these counts, M īmāṃsā commentators made important contributions thereby providing the impetus for further discussions.
In this chapter, I will primarily focus on M īmāṃsā epistemology. I will
discuss key epistemological conceptions highlighting, where necessary,
the differences between the Bhāṭṭ a and the Prābhā kara schools. There are
fve additional sections: (II) The Nature and the Sources of Knowledge,
(III) The Self-Validity of Knowledge, (IV) Error or the Falsity of Knowledge, (V) The Theory of the Meaning of Words and Sentences, and (VI) Self,
Dharma, Karma, and Mok ṣa.
II The Nature and the Sources of Knowledge
In the feld of epistemology, M īmāṃsā made signifcant contributions.2
M īmāṃsā, like most schools of Indian philosophy, recognized both immediate
and mediate knowledge.
According to Kumārila, pram ā is a valid cognition that presents an object
previously unknown, not contradicted by subsequent knowledge, and not generated by a defective condition. The object of immediate knowledge must be
existent, and when such an object is related to a sense organ (internal or external), there arises an immediate knowledge of it.
A pram āṇa is the effcient cause of a cognition. Kumārila, like Advaita
Vedānta and unlike Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika, recognizes six pram āṇas: Pratyak ṣa (perception), anum āna (inference), upam āna (comparison), śabda (testimony), arth āpatti
(postulation), and anupalabdhi (non-cognition or absence). Prabhā kara accepts
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
only the frst fve; he rejects non-cognition as an independent knowable category.3 Absence, argues Prabhā kara, is not a positive entity; it is known through
inference. When I do not see an elephant in a room, from my non-perception
of the elephant in the room I infer that there is no elephant in the room. So,
there is no need of anupalabdhi to establish the cognition of absence.
Of the six pram āṇas, the M īmāṃsā argues that perception is immediate and
the remaining fve are mediate.4
Pratyak ṣa (Perception)
Perception is a cognition produced by the contact of the sense organ with the
mind, of the mind with the sense organ, and the sense organ with the object.5
Both Kumārila and Prabhā kara admit two stages of perception.6 When there
is a contact of the sense organ with the object, initially we have a bare awareness of it; we know that the object is, but we do not know what it is. In this
cognition, neither the genus nor the differentia is presented to consciousness.
This primary immediate knowledge is nirvikalpaka perception.7 At the next
stage, i.e., the stage of savikalpaka perception, we come to know the object in
light of our past experiences, understand it as belonging to a class, possessing
certain qualities, and having a name. It is expressed in such judgments as “this
is a chair,” “this is a table,” etc.8
Anum āna (Inference)
Etymologically “anum āna” means the knowledge that “follows another knowledge.” M īmāṃsā defnes inference as the knowledge in which one term of the
relationship—which is not perceived—is known through the knowledge of
the other term that is invariably related to the frst term. In other words, in
an inference, based on what is perceived we are led to the knowledge of what
is not perceived because the perceived and the inferred have a permanent,
unfailing relationship.9 The Bhāṭṭ as defne invariable concomitance (vyāpti) as
a “natural relation,” and “natural” here means being free from any limiting
conditions. In the inferential knowledge the “hill is fery,” we observe cases
where smoke and fre are present together, and cases where they are not so
present and arrive at a general principle that governs all cases.
Unlike the Naiyā ikas who argue that an inferential argument has fve members, both Kumārila and Prabhā kara hold that an inferential argument has
three members. Both make a distinction between the inference for oneself
and inference for others. However, there is an important difference between
Prabhā kara and Kumārila: Prabhā kara argues that the inference of fre on
a hill does not present anything previously unknown, because the inference
“the hill is fery” is already included in the major premise “all cases of smoke
are cases of fre.” Kumārila argues that the previous unknownness or novelty
is an essential feature of inference, because though we know that smoke is invariably related to fre, this hill as possessing the fre was not known earlier.10
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
Upam āna (Comparison)11
Knowledge from comparison arises when upon perceiving an object that is
present before me, which is like an object that I have perceived in the past,
I come to know that the remembered object is like the perceived one.12 This
is knowledge by similarity. I see an animal gavaya that is like my cow and say
“my cow is similar to this gavaya.” Knowledge obtained through comparison
cannot be reduced to perception, inference, and testimony; it is not perception, because the object “my cow” is not perceived now; it is not an inference
because the knowledge is not derived from a vyāpti or universal concomitance;
and fnally, it is not knowledge by testimony because the knowledge does not
arise from the testimony of another person.
Śabda (Testimony)
Among the pram āṇas, M īmāṁsakas discuss śabda in detail because of their
interest in the authority of the Vedas.13 This is the knowledge that arises from
the testimony of a reliable person; it may be of two kinds: Personal (non-Vedic)
and impersonal (Vedic). The frst denotes either the heard or the written testimony of a person, the second the authority of the Vedas. The former testimony is reliable except when it is known from an unreliable person. The
Vedic śabda again may be of two types: They may either provide information
regarding the existence of objects, or give injunctions regarding the performance of some actions, sacrifcial rites, and rituals. The Vedic śabda produces
a cognition of an object that does not have any contact with the sense organs;
the cognition arises based on the śabda alone. Kumārila accepts both personal
and impersonal śabda, but Prabhā kara does not accept the authority of the
non-Vedic śabda.
M īmāṃsakas were primarily interested in dharma, because it is dharma (ethical force, power) that controls and governs the universe and the agent. Their
primary goal was to determine the nature of dharma; specifcally, dharma as
taught by the Vedic injunctive sentences. They took existential statements
regarding immortality, god, soul, etc., of the Vedas to be subsidiary to the
injunctions. The injunctions are valid in themselves; they do not derive their
validity from any other source. For M īmāṃsakas, the value and the sole use of
the Vedas lie in giving directions for performing rituals, the remaining parts
of the Vedas are of no value.14
The Vedas, like words, are eternal.15 They do not have either personal or
divine origin.16 The question is: Are not the Vedas composed of non-eternal
words? The M īmāṃsakas in response state that words are not really the perceived sounds; they rather are uncaused and partless letters. For example, a
letter, say, “s,” is uttered by many individuals at different times and in many
ways. The sound differs, but we recognize the letter to be the same. Words as
letters are eternal entities, and the relation between words and their meaning
is natural. I will discuss some of these issues in Section V of this chapter.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
Arth āpatti (Postulation or Presumption)17
Arth āpatti is “the presumption of something not seen on the ground that a
fact already perceived or heard would not be possible without that presumption….”18 In postulation, one presumes an unperceived fact which alone can
explain a fact.19 A man fasts during the day but still gains weight and becomes
fat. There is an apparent contradiction between his increasing fatness and
his fasting, barring some medical explanations. To reconcile the contradiction, we say that the man must be eating at night. Knowledge obtained from
arth āpatti cannot be reduced to perception, inference, and comparison; it is not
perception since we do not see the person eating at night; the knowledge is not
derived based on an invariable relation between fatness and eating; and it is
not obtained from the testimony of a person.
Anupalabdhi (Non-perception)20
Non-perception is the immediate cognition of the non-existence of an object.
The question is: How do I know the non-existence, say, of an elephant in
my room? It cannot be perceived in the manner I perceive an object that I
see before me. The Bhāṭṭ as, like the Advaitins, argue that the non-existence
of an elephant in the room is known from the absence of its cognition, that
is, from the non-perception of the elephant. This non-existence cannot be
known by inference, because if we already had the knowledge of an invariable
relation between the non-perception and non-existence, i.e., if we had already
known that the non-perception of an object implies its non-existence, then
we would be begging the question and there would be no need to prove the
non-existence by inference. We cannot explain the elephant’s non-existence
by comparison or testimony as the knowledge of the similarity or the words of
a reliable person. Therefore, we must recognize non-perception (anupalabdhi)
as an independent pram āṇa.
As is obvious from the above paragraphs, M īmāṃsā, like most schools of
Indian philosophy, developed its conceptions of pram ā and pram āṇas. However,
they were the frst to develop a theory of the intrinsicality and extrinsicality of
knowledge, which I will discuss next.
III The Self-Validity of Knowledge
The M īmāṃsakas, like the Advaita Vedāntins, argue that all knowledge is
intrinsically valid because validity arises from the very conditions that cause
it.21 On the M īmāṃsā theory, knowledge is about its object and it is true of
its object; so, it is pram ā. Whenever adequate conditions for the arising of a
specifc knowledge exist, the knowledge arises without any doubt or disbelief
in it. For example, in the daylight when our eyes meet an object, we have a
visual perception of it. Based on the universal concomitance, we infer fre
upon perceiving smoke. When one hears a meaningful sentence from one’s
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
friend, knowledge arises from testimony. In our daily lives, we act on such
knowledge without worrying about its truth and falsity, and the fact that it
leads to successful activity testifes that such a cognition is true. The invalidity
of a cognition is arrived at by external means, especially by appealing to subsequent cognitions. When the conditions are defective—e.g., when the eyes
are jaundiced, or there is a lack of light—no such knowledge arises. Invalidity
or falsity thus arises from subsequent experiences or some other data. When
a cognition arises, its validity “immediately arises” and cannot be doubted.22
Thus, to say that a cognition is not true of its object is absurd. A cognition does
not need any special or additional excellence in the cause for it to be true. If
the cause of a cognition does not produce it, then no additional factor added
to the cause can produce it. Thus, once the cause of a cognition produces the
cognition, this cognition by its very defnition will let the knower be cognizant
of its object and therefore true. As knowledge is already true, any further determination of the absence of any defect in the causal conditions cannot make
the original cognition true. Determination of the absence of any defect only
strengthens the certainty of truth.
In this chain of argument, the emphasis is on the proper object of a cognition. The object of a cognition is only that which is manifested in that cognition and not something else. What is not manifested in a cognition cannot
be the object of that cognition. So, the M īmāṃsakas argue that the validity
of cognition (a) arises from the very conditions that generate it, not from any
extrinsic conditions, and (b) it is believed to be true as soon as it arises; it does
not require any additional verifcation by other pram āṇas, say, an inference.23
These two aspects taken together constitute the M īmāṃsā theory of intrinsic
validity, i.e., cognitions are valid in themselves and do not need further proof
to validate them.
In other words, in the context of the truth or the validity of cognitions, the
question is: Is the truth of a cognition intrinsic or extrinsic to the cognition?24
Most Indian philosophers raised the same question about falsity. Those who
answer this question in the affrmative, e.g., M īmāṃsā and Advaita Vedānta,
are known as the svataḥ prām āṇyavādins, the upholders of the theory of the
intrinsicality of truth. Those who answer this question in the negative, e.g.,
the Naiyāyikas, are known as the parataḥ prām āṇyavādins, the upholder of the
theory of the extrinsicality of truth. Two important questions arise in this
context: First, do the conditions which produce a cognition also make it true?
Second, is it the case that when a cognition is known to me, it is also at the
same time known to be true?25
This doctrine of the intrinsic validity of all knowledge is one of the most
important doctrines of the M īmāṃsā school. In concrete terms, to say that
a cognition is intrinsically valid because its validity arises from those very
causes from which the cognition itself arises and not from any extraneous
conditions and it is known to be valid as soon as it arises,26 amounts to saying
truth is self-evident and whenever any knowledge arises, it carries with it an
assurance, a sort of “guarantee” about its truth, and retains its validity until it
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
is shown to be otherwise, say, on account of some defective conditions or from
a subsequent cognition that contradicts the initial cognition. A person suffering from jaundice sees a white shirt as yellow, and implicitly believes that it is
yellow. The judgment, in this case, is mistaken which is learned subsequently,
by inference, or another compelling evidence.
Though both Prabhā kara and Kumārila subscribe to the view that cognitions are intrinsically valid, there is an important difference between the two
and the difference concerns the question: How is a cognition cognized?27
Prabhā kara holds that a cognition is perceived directly along with the object and the knowing self (articulated in the sentence “I know this pitcher”).
Prabhā kara accepts tripuṭῑvṛtti, i.e., the three-fold presentation. Each cognition
has three factors, the “I” (the subject or the knower), the known (the object),
and the knowledge itself. In the cognition, “I know the pitcher”—the “I,”
the pitcher, and the awareness—all three are at once presented (tripuṭῑpratyak ṣavāda), and each is perceived in its own way: The “I” is cognized as the “I”
(not as the object), the pitcher as the object, and the cognition as a cognition
(i.e., as neither the subject nor the object). According to Prabhā kara, when we
know, we also know that we know; the knowledge is self-revealing.
Kumārila argues that knowledge by itself cannot be the object of itself.
He argues that cognition is known by inference from a new property called
“knownness” that is produced in the object when it is known. For Kumārila,
knowledge is a process, an activity of the self. This process generates a property known as manifestedness in the object. A cognition is not perceived directly; it is inferred from the manifestedness ( jñ ātat ā) that is produced in the
object. His theory is known as jñ ātat āvāda. Kumārila denies self-luminosity to
knowledge.
The question is: Is the pram ātva of a cognition apprehended svataḥ or parataḥ?
Before proceeding, let me pause for a moment to further clarify what is meant
by “svataḥ,” in svataḥ pram ātva of knowledge. “Svataḥ” means “by oneself.” To
say that the truth of a cognition is apprehended “svataḥ” is to say that a cognition apprehends its own truth. But “sva” may mean “by a cognition which
apprehends the cognition itself.” In that case “svataḥ pram ātva” would mean
that the truth of a cognition is cognized by a cognition which apprehends
that cognition. Thus, to say that pram ātva is svataḥ may mean either of the two
things: It may mean either that the pram ātva is apprehended by the cognition
to which it belongs or the pram ātva is apprehended by the cognition which
apprehends the cognition whose pram ātva it is. So, the pram ātva is svataḥ if it
is either sva-grāhya (what is apprehended by the cognition whose truth it is,
and sva is the original cognition whose truth is under consideration) or svagrāhakagrāhya (that in which the truth is apprehended by a second cognition
which apprehends the frst cognition).
Against the second view, i.e., the truth is apprehended by a cognition of
the cognition whose truth is under consideration, various objections may
be raised. It may be asked: What is this cognition of the original cognition
(anuvyavasāya)? Is it introspection of the frst cognition? Does it amount to
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
saying that the anuvyavasāya, which apprehends the frst cognition, also apprehends that cognition’s pram ātva? It is said in response (the view of the Naiyāyikas and Murāri Miśra, who represents the third school of M īmāṃsā) that
since the introspection of the original vyavasāya is a cognition of that cognition,
it also apprehends that cognition’s truth. Kumārila, however, does not accept
this as a viable alternative.
On Kumārila’s view, knowledge is supersensible and it is inferred. It cannot
be an object of introspection. A cognition on his view is known only by an
inference which uses knownness as a reason. However, no matter whether the
truth of a cognition is cognized by a mental perception, or anuvyavasāya, or
inferred on the ground of the knownness of the object that serves as a mark,
truth is not apprehended by the cognition to which that truth belongs.
Against the M īmāṁsakas, the following objection may be raised: Irrespective of whether a cognition (vyavasāya) is apprehended in anuvyavasāya or in
an inference with jñ ātat ā as the mark, the vyavasāya is apprehended only qua
cognition, but not qua true cognition. In response, Prabhā kara points out that
if we regard knowledge to be always sva-sa ṃvedana, i.e., that knowledge always apprehends itself, then we can also say that knowledge while knowing
itself also knows its truth. In other words, if knowledge is self-knowing or svasa ṃvedana, then it would also know its own truth.
Again, it may be asked: Given that according to Prabhā kara, a cognition is
self-knowing, i.e., it knows its own truth, then the error would also be similarly
known thereby making falsity also svataḥ? When considering this objection
against the Prabhā kara view, we should bear in mind that Prabhā kara does
not regard error to be svataḥ. Hence, the question: If knowledge is self-evident,
what accounts for the arising of the so-called error? How do the M īmāṃsakas
make sense of the alleged falsity of a knowledge?
IV Error or the Falsity of Knowledge
If all cognitions by nature are valid, how do errors arise? Given that every
knowledge is true, argues Prabhā kara, nothing false ever appears in any erroneous cognition. In an erroneous cognition, one thing is taken to be the other.
In the supposed erroneous cognition, i.e., “this is a piece of silver,” one thing
(e.g., a shell) is seen to be another (e.g., a piece of silver). The question arises:
What is the object in this alleged false cognition? It cannot be the shell, because the shell is not manifested in it. There is a cognition assuming the form
“this is a piece of silver,” though there is no silver before the perceiver. This
false cognition is contradicted by a later cognition of the form “this is not a
piece of silver, but a shell”; this later cognition sublates the earlier cognition
and proves it to be false. The falsity here is due to the presence of defects,
possibly the distance, the defective visual organ, the lapse of memory, etc. So,
error is one of omission, not of commission.
But, what then, is the status of the cognition “this is a piece of silver”
when there is no silver present there? Prabhā kara argues that the cognition
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
“this is a piece of silver,” really consists of two cognitions: (1) Perceptual and
(2) recollection.28 The “this” expresses a perception and the “silver” expresses a
remembered thing. Each is a valid cognition; something is perceived as “this”
and a past cognition of a silver is remembered. There is nothing false about the
two cognitions. There is, however, a failure to distinguish between the two, not
falsely taking the one to be the other. This non-distinction results in the perceiver’s attempt to seize the silver. So, error is an erroneous or incomplete cognition.
This view is known as akhyātivāda29 which means “no (false or invalid) cognition”; one does not perceive the silver, rather one simply remembers it. Error,
therefore, is non-apprehension and not misapprehension.
The Bhāṭṭ as reject this theory.30 Kumārila Bhāṭṭ a points out that simple
non-discrimination cannot explain error, because no one can deny that the
false object appears before us. Error is mis-apprehension, not a simple nonapprehension; there is a positive confusion of one thing with another, between
a perception (“this”) and a remembered (“silver”). So, error is wrong apprehension of one thing as another, which it is not. When we perceive silver in a
shell and make the judgment that “this is a piece of silver,” both the subject
and the predicate are real. Silver exists, say, in a department store, however, in
this instance we bring the existing shell under the class of silver, and error consists in relating these two real and separate existents in the subject–predicate
relation. Error is due to the wrong relationship. These errors make us behave
wrongly; so, the Bhāṭṭ as call their theory “vipar ītakhyāti-vāda” or the view that
an error is the opposite of the right behavior.
To sum up: The Prābhā kara school holds that every knowledge is ipso facto
valid, and that there is no such thing as error. The Bhāṭṭ as, on the other hand,
concede that error may affect relationships, but the objects perceived in themselves are free from error. Both, however, agree that error affects our activities
rather than knowledge.
Against the Prabhā kara theory, opponents argue that the failure to comprehend the distinction between the two is inadequate to account for erroneous cognitions. Error is not a simple absence of knowledge; it is not a simple
failure to comprehend the distinction between the two because if that were
the case, the error would occur in the dreamless sleep state as well. The opponents argue that our actual experience testifes to the fact that in an erroneous
cognition we initially have a cognition assuming the form “this is a piece of
silver,” which is sublated by “this is a shell, not a piece of silver.” Furthermore,
if an erroneous cognition were simply negative (i.e., the non-comprehension
of the difference between the two), it could not bring about a positive practical
reaction, such as withdrawing in fear, for example, in the snake–rope illusion,
or proceeding to seize the silver in the case of the shell-silver illusion. Thus, it
does not make sense to say that an erroneous cognition is the failure to distinguish between the “this” and the “silver.”
Before proceeding further, let us take a moment to assess what precisely is
non-discrimination? The notion of non-discrimination or the non-cognition
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
of the distinction between the remembered and the perceived is logically
opaque.31 The proposition that a table is distinct from a chair signifes that the
negation of each obtains in the locus of the other. Distinction is a reciprocal
negation (anonyābh āva). Therefore, along with the manifestation of the cognition and its objects, distinction also becomes manifest, the distinction being
nothing more than the correlates themselves. It is incoherent to argue that,
although the distincts are cognized, the distinction itself is not. The Prabhākara argues that in an erroneous perceiving of the shell as “this is a piece of
silver,” perception and recollection respectively of “this” and “silver” are not
known to be different.
Opponents argue that this is inconsistent with his own admission that a
distinction between one unit of knowledge and another is found in the very
nature of knowledge, and that knowledge is self-revealing. With respect to the
cognitions and their contents, differences are necessarily cognized along with
the revelation of the nature of cognitions as well as their contents. Additionally, we must remember that non-discrimination is not a necessary condition
for the occurrence of an erroneous cognition. So, the opponents argue that
Prabhā kara cannot explain the precise nature of non-discrimination. Additionally, the experience of an illusion shows that it is neither negative nondiscrimination nor a cognition of two experiences. Positive identifcation, as
well as the non-knowledge of the difference, can account for a positive activity.
Never, indeed, does there arise activity based on the mere non-comprehension
of the difference. In fact, as Vācaspati, the author of Bh āmat ī, held both the
verbal usage and activity are based upon the comprehension and not merely
on the non-comprehension of the difference.32 If it is argued that there would
be activity by the mere non-comprehension of the difference, then at the time
of the cognition, say, of a pitcher, for example, if there is non-comprehension
of the difference from the gem, then there would exist the possibility of activity with a desire to obtain the gem. The silver in the shell-silver example is
perceptual. It is not a case of simple recollection. Without the cognition of the
identity between the silver with the “this” element before us, there would not
be any activity toward it by merely recalling silver. Therefore, the M īmāṃsā
view of error cannot be accepted.
Most of us experience illusion at some time in our lives, and different factors
account for it. When we perceive a shell as a piece of silver, we soon realize
that our perception was wrong, and it is sublated. So, questions arise: What is
falsity in a false perception? What is the referent of falsity? Does it refer to the
apprehension or content apprehended in an erroneous cognition? Perhaps, it
is accurate to say that in an erroneous cognition the focus is on the content
apprehended than on the apprehension itself. Upon correction, the rectifcation occurs signifying the rejection of the content. All discussions in erroneous
perceptions concern the nature and the status of content misperceived. In
other words. different theories of error differ about the nature and the status
of content rather than subjective apprehension.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
V Theory of the Meaning of Words and
Sentences
To preserve the integrity of their thesis that the Vedic texts speak of the word
as eternal,33 the M īmāṃsakas argue that the words and their meanings are
eternal. Kumārila argues that the relationship between the word and meaning is not created, not even by God; the relationship is eternal and inborn.34
In response to the objection that how can the word be eternal, when it is
not always present, it ceases and requires human efforts to produce it again,
Kumārila argues that human efforts manifest already existing word.35 The
word remains present eternally; non-hearing of a spoken word does not imply
its destruction; it rather implies its non-perception.
To express the meaning, a word, which is a simple aggregate of syllables, is
arranged in a certain order. Whereas a syllable is eternal, its sound and form
are non-eternal, and its manifestation is a momentary event. Each manifestation leaves an impression on the listener’s mind. The last syllable (of a word)
together with its impression and all earlier impressions, make the cognition of
a word possible. A word does not denote specifc things that come into existence and pass away; it rather denotes the universal that underlies these things.
In other words, the word “cow” does not mean an “individual cow,” but the
universal “cowness,” the common feature of all individual cows. However,
such sentences as “bring a cow” refer to an individual cow not by virtue of the
meaning of the word “cow,” but because of its being invariably associated with
the universal feature “cowness.”36
In their theory of word meanings, the M īmāṃsakas differ from the
Naiyāyikas. The Naiyāyikas argue that the word “cow” means “an individual
cow qualifed by the universal cowness.” The M īmāṃsakas rejects this view.
They hold that an individual and its universal features are not ontologically
different entities; they are related by a sort of identity (t ād ātmya) by virtue of
which when the universal is meant, the individual is also comprehended and
co-conveyed. The relation between a word and its meaning is “natural,” and
“eternal,” i.e., it is not brought about by any human agency. It is “apauru ṣeya”
(authorless). The beginning of the relation is comprehended through listening
to the conversations of the elders. A word and its meaning arise together.
A word’s principal denotative power is to convey the primary meaning.
When the primary meaning is not suitable, one resorts to a secondary meaning or lak ṣa ṇā which, however, must be related to the primary meaning. In
a well-known example, the expression “Ga ṇgāyām gho ṣa” (“the village on the
river Ganges”) calls for the secondary meaning, namely, “the village on the
bank of the Ganges river.”
The Meaning of a Sentence
A sentence is a group of words satisfying two requirements: (i) The group must
have a common purpose and meaning and (ii) the constituent words must
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
require each other or arouse in the hearer the expectation of the other. MS
in this context uses the Sanskrit concept “ek ārthatva” which means “having an
identical artha.” “Artha” may mean either “meaning” or “purpose”; i.e., the
unity of the purpose and the meaning go together. The primary purpose of a
sentence, according to M īmāṃsā, is an action (kriyā), and other components
fulfll the purpose of specifying the object, the agent, the means, and the end
of the action. All component meanings revolve around an action.
Besides the unity of purpose, meaning, and expectancy (āk āṅk ṣā), the
M īmāṃsakas recognize two additional conditions for the constitution of a
sentence: Proximity (sannidhi) and appropriateness ( yog yat ā). The component
words and their comprehensions must have spatial and temporal proximity.
Words uttered or written at remotely distant places and times obviously do not
constitute a sentence. “Appropriateness” requires that the component meanings must be compatible. Words sequence in such sentences as “this stone is
virtuous” or “sprinkle the grass with fre,” satisfy the frst two requirements,
but fail the last test since the concepts of “sprinkling” and “fre” are not compatible, just as “virtue” is not compatible with “stone.” Obviously, appropriateness here is semantical, not simply syntactical.
The M īmāṃsakas next discuss the question: How does the cognition
of a sentence arise? Which comes frst: Word meaning or sentence meaning? In other words, is sentence meaning apprehended prior to the apprehension of word meaning? On this question, the two schools of M īmāṃsā
differ, the Bhāṭṭ as (i.e., the followers of Kumārila Bhaṭṭ a) side with the Advaitins, and the Prābhā karas (the followers of Prabhā kara) oppose them. The
Bhāṭṭ a theory is known as “abhihit ānvayavāda” and that of the Prābhā karas as
“anvit ābhidh ānavāda.”
The Bhāṭṭ as (and the Advaitins) hold that words alone have the inherent
capacity to signify their senses, which, in turn, give rise to the sense of a sentence. Words cease to function after indicating their senses. Because the relation of the sense of words is based on words, the Bhāṭṭ as contend that words
have the capacity to connote the knowledge of their senses; words convey individual meanings but when joined together, because of congruity, they convey sentence meaning. They urge that “the plea of direct denotation of related
meaning as a single act is a hoax.”37 Sentential meaning is apprehended, not
from component words, but from word meanings by a process of secondary meaning
or lak ṣa ṇā. On the Bhāṭṭ a theory, a sentential meaning is apprehended by the
following process:
1
2
3
each word conveys its own meaning by its primary power (śakti), known
as abhidh ā or the designative power;
these meanings connect by such factors as expectancy, proximity, and
appropriateness; and
these meanings by a secondary signifcation or lak ṣa ṇā generate a comprehension of sentential meaning as a related entity. This secondary
meaning is produced not by component words but by word-meanings.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
The second theory, i.e., the theory of the Pr ābhā karas, holds that the relation among word meanings is the sense of a sentence, and this relation
is conveyed by words themselves.38 So, sentential meaning is the meaning
of component words taken together. Words do not designate unrelated objects or meanings, but objects as related to each other (anvita). A word is a
“pram āṇa” because it designates a related structure which constitutes sentential meaning. Word meaning is related to other meanings in general, while a
sentential meaning is the relatedness of other meanings in a specifc manner.
Otherwise, there is no difference between word meanings and sentential
meanings.
In short, both schools accept that on hearing a word, there is the knowledge
of its meaning (pad ārtha). The difference between the two theories rests on the
question, whether a word designates a pure unrelated object or an object as related to others in general. The Bhāṭṭ a school subscribes to the former position,
the Prābhā kara school to the latter.
Let me elaborate. Prabhā kara holds that the pad ārtha, i.e., the knowledge
of its meaning, is what is meant by a word and it is related to other pad ārthas
meant by other words. Hence, the theory is called “anvit ābhidh ānavāda,” i.e.,
words mean the relatedness to other meant entities in general and sentence
means the specifc relatedness to other meanings. The followers of Kumārila,
however, hold that the meaning of a word, unrelated to other word-meanings,
is what is intended by a word. Pure word-meanings, by virtue of expectancy
(āk āṅk ṣā), proximity (sannidhi), and appropriateness ( yog yat ā) get related to
other meanings. This is how a sentential meaning is constituted, which, however, is not a pad ārtha. The meaning of a sentence is not a pad ārtha, i.e., the
knowledge of its meaning.
According to Prabhā kara, words themselves have the inherent capacity to
convey their individual meanings, that is, the construed sense of a sentence;
words themselves make the sense of sentence known. Upon hearing someone
utter words in sequence, one immediately understands the meaning of the
sentence that the words express. According to Prabhā kara, the meaning of a
word is like a kadamba fower; it consists of infnite little buds. Word meaning
then refers to sentential meaning. According to the Bhāṭṭ a theory, a word designates only its own pure meaning. Words alone have the inherent capacity to
signify their senses, which, in turn, give rise to the sense of the sentence; words
cease to function after indicating their senses. In other words, a word initially
signifes its own meaning, then the words in a sentence are put together to
construe the sentential sense. Potter concisely explains the difference between
the two theories.
The two M īmāṃsā theories are primarily theories about the process by which we come to understand the meaning of a sentence….
Prābhā kara’s principle is: understanding of sentence meaning frst,
word-meanings later; Kumārila’s is: understanding of word meanings frst, sentence-meaning later.39
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
Meaning of the Injunctive Sentences
Injunctions or vidhis occupy a central position in M īmāṃsā ethics. In the sentence, “svargakāmo yajeta,” i.e., the performance of sacrifce is enjoined for a
person who desires svarga (heaven), the injunctive suffx (i.e., the vidhiliñ in the
Sanskrit grammar) conveys that the act leads to the desired object, the act is
within the capacity of the person concerned, and fnally, the act does not lead
to any adverse consequence. This three-fold meaning constitutes i ṣtasādhanatā
prompting the execution of the act.40
About the sentences prescribing an action (vidhivākyas), e.g., “one who
aspires to go to heaven should perform (the) sacrifce,” the two schools of
M īmāṃsā differ. On the Bhāṭṭ a theory, “you should offer sacrifce,” means that
the recommended action is a means for the attainment of the desired result
(i ṣtasādhanatājñāna). This knowledge leads the agent to perform the action. But
the Prābhā kara school does not consider i ṣtasādhanatā to be the import of the
injunctive suffx. The suffx conveys “k ārya,” i.e., the task to be performed
which is the import of the sentence. They argue that the injunctive words
themselves incite the person (who desires to go to heaven) to perform the action that is recommended. The important step in this process is the realization
that this course of action is a duty to be done.
The frst view seems closer to the consequentialist variety of the Western
ethical theory and the second view comes close to the deontological theory
which privileges the sense of duty over the likely consequences.
VI Self, Karma, and Liberation
Like the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika, the M ī māṃ s ā regards the self as distinct from the
body, the senses, and the mind. The soul is an eternal, infnite substance
having the capacity for consciousness; intelligence, will, and effort are its
natural attributes. Consciousness is not an essential quality of the soul; it is
an adventitious quality. It arises when certain conditions are present. In the
dreamless sleep state, the soul does not possess consciousness, because such
factors as the relation of the sense organ to the object are absent. For the
Bhāṭṭ as, the soul is both unconscious and conscious; it is unconscious as the
substratum of consciousness, but it is also the object of self-consciousness.
For the Pr ābhā karas, the soul is non-intelligent, the substratum of knowledge, pleasure, and pain, etc. The self is an agent, the enjoyer, and omnipresent, but not sentient.
The two schools of M īmāṃsā differ regarding such questions as: How is
the soul known? According to the Bhāṭṭ a school, we know it as the object
of the “I”; it is not known when the object is known. The Prābhā kara school,
on the other hand, argues that the self is known when an object is known; it
is revealed in the very act of knowing as the subject of the knowledge under
consideration. Both the Bhāṭṭ as and the Prābhā karas subscribe to the doctrine
of the multiplicity of souls; there are as many souls as there are individual
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
beings. The soul survives death so that it can reap the consequences of the
actions performed.
The Vedas enjoin that dharma should be performed.41 Following the Vedas,
the M īmāṃsakas emphasize the performance of dharma or moral duties to
gain moral excellence and divide karmas into (i) obligatory (nitya), (ii) optional
(k āmya), and (iii) prohibited. Obligatory karmas must be done because their
violation results in demerits, though their performance does not lead to any
merit. Optional karmas may be done; however, their non-performance does
not lead to demerit. The performance of prohibited karmas leads to demerit.
Obligatory karmas again are of two kinds: Those that must be performed daily
(daily prayer in the morning and the evening), and those that are performed
on special occasions (one should take a bath during the eclipse). Optional
karmas are done with a desire to get fruits; e.g., he who wishes to go to heaven
should perform certain sacrifces. Finally, there are also expiatory actions to
ward off the evil effects of the prohibited karmas. An aspirant in the search
of liberation must go beyond both merit and demerit. Obligatory actions are
performed following the guidance of the Vedas. Actions must be done without
any desire for the results of the actions. For Kumārila, actions are not an end
in themselves; they must be performed to realize the fnal goal by overcoming
the past and the future accumulated karmas.
The M īmāṃsakas theory of śakti has important implications for their theory of ritualistic actions. They argue that the actions performed in this life,
generate ap ūrva or unperceived potency which remains and bears fruits in the
future. The Sanskrit term “ap ūrva” in common parlance signifes something
that is “unique,” “one of a kind,” “exceptional,” “special”; it is something unforeseen, unprecedented, new, not seen before, etc. Both Kumārila and Prabhā kara accept ap ūrva, unperceived potency.
Apūrva
•
•
•
•
Ap ūrva is unseen potency; it is the link between the act and its fruit.
Actions performed here produce an unseen potency (ap ūrva) which
yields fruits.
It is an epistemic apparatus that transcends the temporal distance and provides a causal link between performed acts and their
consequences.
Whereas Kumārila argues that ap ūrva resides in the soul of the sacrifcer, the performer of Vedic rites, Prabhā kara holds that it resides
in actions.
The term “ap ūrva” does not appear in Jaimini’s MS. Śabara in his commentary on Jaimini’s MS construes “codana” as “ap ūrva”42; “the performative component of an injunction, that validates all religious actions.” In the absence of
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
ap ūrva, such an injunction would be of no value, given that at the conclusion
of the sacrifce, it can only be preserved in terms of the results, i.e., in terms of
some force, unseen potency, which operates till the result is actually effected.
Ap ūrva provides a necessary causal link between the ritualistic actions done
and their fruits. Kumārila holds that it is produced in the soul of the sacrifcer
and lasts till it begins to bear fruits in the future. Such injunctive statements as
“svargak āmo yajeta” cannot be satisfactorily explained unless we accept ap ūrva
as the connecting link between the ritualistic actions and the heaven. Halbfass
argues:
Sacrifcial ‘ap ūrvic’ causality seems to operate within a fnite welldefned set of conditions a kind of closed system, in which it seems
to be secure from outside interference: in bringing about its assigned
result…. Ap ūrva is a conceptual device designed to keep off or circumvent empirically oriented criticism of the effcacy of sacrifces, to
establish a causal nexus not subject to the criterion of direct, observable sequence.43
Śabara argues that this concept provides an answer to the question of how an
action, e.g., a ritualistic sacrifce, performed here and now bears fruits later,
say, in the heaven.
Prabhā kara does not agree that ap ūrva is in the soul, because the soul on
account of its omnipresence is inactive. Ap ūrva resides in the act or the effort
that produces it. The act perishes after it is done, but ap ūrva—that resides in
the act which the suffx “liñ” or k ārya in the Vedic injunction conveys—lasts
till the production of the fruit. The effort or the exertion produces in the agent
a k ārya or the result, technically called “niyoga,” which provides the incentive
to the agent to act. It is important to remember here that ap ūrva is the result,
the fnal purpose, of an action; it is different from the action itself. It refers to
the invisible force, the invisible results of works which accrue to the doer, the
performer of a sacrifce.
Both the Naiyāyikas and the Prābhā karas agree that a word has the power
(śakti) to arouse experience of its meaning. However, according to the Prābhā karas, this power belongs to words, whereas according to the Naiyāyikas,
the power belongs to god’s desire. Only because of god’s desire does a word
has the power to connote what it means. The power does not reside in a word.
The Prābhā karas recognize that a word itself has the power to signify what it
means. When a word’s power (śakti) is known, it generates an agreement with
other meanings. For the Naiyāyikas, a word’s śakti remains unknown, and yet
generates the agreement with other meanings. On the Naiyāyika account,
the memory of the pad ārtha caused by a word generates the knowledge of the
meaning of a sentence, a thesis which the M īmāṃsakas do not accept. The
deities occupy a secondary place in the M īmāṃsā system. The primary aim of
the M īmāṃsakas is to persuade people to practice Vedic injunctions, and not
to teach them about god and the deities.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
In the early M īmāṃsā, the attainment of the heaven as the state of bliss was
the summum bonum of life; however, eventually the M īmāṃsā commentators,
like other Indian commentators, replaced heaven with liberation (apavarga)
from bondage.44 They came to believe that actions done with a desire to get
fruits cause repeated births. The disinterested performance of actions, without any desire for the results, exhaust accumulated karmas. A person, free from
karmas, is not reborn; liberation thus stops rebirth by destroying the accumulated karmas. Past karmas should be exhausted without any residue. Obligatory
and compulsory acts should be performed, and the non-performance of these
acts would create demerit and result in suffering. Liberation is a state free
from all kinds of painful experiences; it is a state in which the soul returns to
its intrinsic nature, freedom from pain and suffering. Kumārila and his followers subscribe to jñ ānakarmasamuccaya, i.e., both knowledge and action lead
to liberation. Prabhā kara advocates actions as supreme and takes knowledge
as the means to liberation.
For the M ī m āṃ sakas, the Vedas are self-revealed; God did not author
them. The Ny āya and the Ved ā nta, on the other hand, hold that the Veda’s
are God’s creations. The M ī m āṃ sakas argue that if the Vedas are taken
to be human-authored, then the names of the authors would have been
known to us. The Vedas are handed down to us from time immemorial in
the form in which we fnd them today. Kum ā rila holds that the meaning of
the words of the Vedic texts is comprehended in the same way as the words
in the popular language. Let us take the famous Upani ṣ adic mah āv ākya “tat
tvam asi.”
The difference in their theory of meaning accounts for the differing interpretations of “tat” and “tvam” in “tat tvam asi.” In anvit ābhidh ānavāda, these
words convey the cognitions of their primary meanings—the cognition
whose nature is memory. In abhihit ānvayavāda, the terms “tat” and “tvam”
convey the cognitions of their primary meanings, like memory. Accordingly,
sentence-generatedness does not exist in “tat tvam asi”: The knowledge simply
arises from the individual word meanings. In other words, word meanings,
not a sentence, cause a verbal cognition. Therefore, the cognition arising from
“tat tvam asi” is not mediate in nature. The analog offered for this mode of
interpretation of the Upaniṣadic text provides one with the phenomenological
clue for understanding the sense of immediacy attached to a cognition arising
through language. The analog “you are the tenth man” gives rise to a cognition that is perceptual in nature. I will discuss some of these issues in Chapter
14 of this work.
VII Concluding Remarks
It is especially in their conceptions of knowledge, truth, and action that the
M īmāṃsakas left an indelible mark on Indian philosophy. MS and their commentators initiated a discussion of such issues as the sources of knowledge, the
relation between knowledge and truth, the intrinsicality or extrinsicality of
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THE MĪMĀṂSĀ DARŚANA
knowledge, and successful practice, etc. Subsequent schools of Indian philosophy further developed the ideas of M īmāṃsā. The Indian philosophers of all
persuasion struggled with these issues, interpreted, and reinterpreted them,
and, in so doing, further refned these ideas. The following points are worth
noting.
1
2
3
4
The M īmāṃsā theory of knowledge infuenced other schools of Indian philosophies; these schools developed the initial insights of the M īmāṃsakas.
The M īmāṃsakas were the frst to develop the theory of svataḥ prām āṇya
and the Advaitins followed their lead.
The M īmāṃsakas made the important distinction between the nirvikalpaka and the savikalpaka perception, as the two stages in the development of perceptual knowledge. In general, Advaita Vedānta accepted the
Bhāṭṭ a view of knowledge and thus preserved for posterity the M īmāṃsā
view which otherwise would have been relegated to antiquity. Most Vedic
systems accept the distinction between the nirvikalpaka and the savikalpaka
perception.
The M īmāṃsakas started a way of understanding moral practices which
continues in the Hindu tradition and found its most famous expression in
the Bhagavad G īt ā’s doctrine of karma yoga.
The M īmāṃsakas offered one of the frst attempts to systematize the Vedic texts, especially the karma k āṇda of the Vedas. It taught how best to
interpret the Vedic injunctions regarding sacrifcial acts and raised many
interesting philosophical questions about how to interpret them. They did
so without invoking the ideas of deities or god, which for the M īmāṃsakas
remained rather posits and not realities. Thus, a Vedic sacrifcial religion
was acknowledged without invoking the idea of god as the creator of the
universe; “god” was a theoretical posit.
Thus, it is not surprising that the Vedāntins regarded M īmāṃsakas as their
close kin. Connected with it were the general questions regarding the relation
between knowledge and action, and of course the relation between the earlier
and the later parts of the Vedas. The M īmāṃsā’s overall contribution to Indian thought is immeasurable.
Study Questions
1. Explain the six pram āṇas of the M īmāṃsā school.
2. Comment on the following:
M īmāṃsakas argue (i) that the validity of knowledge arises from the
very conditions that generate it, not from any extrinsic conditions,
and (ii) knowledge is believed to be true as soon as it arises; it does
not require additional verifcation by any other pram āṇa, say, an
inference.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
a.
b.
In light of the above quote, explain the M īmāṃsā theory of the
self-validity of knowledge.
How is a cognition cognized according to M īmāṃsā? What are some
of the differences between the Prābhā kara and the Bhaṭṭ a schools on
this issue?
3. Critically discuss the M īmāṃsā theory of the meaning of words and
sentences. Bring into your discussion important points at issue between
the abhihit ānvayavāda and the anvit ābhidh ānavāda theories. Which account
seems more plausible, and why?
4. Discuss the Prābhā kara theory of akhyāti. Compare and contrast the two
theories of error you have studied in this chapter. Which one do you fnd
more persuasive, and why?
5. How does one attain mok ṣa in M īmāṃsā?
Suggested Readings
For a thematic study of P ūrva-M īm āṃsā, see Ganganath Jha, P ūrva-M īm āṃsā
in Its Sources (Benares: Benares Hindu University, 1942); for an excellent
discussion of the Bhāṭṭ a theory of knowledge, see Govardan P. Bhatt’s
Epistemolog y of the Bh āṭṭa School of P ūrva-M īm āṃsā (Benares: Chowkhamba
Sanskrit Series, 1962); for translations, see Kumarila’s Ślokavārtika. Translated by Ganganath Jha (Delhi: Sri Satguru Publications, 1983); see Appendix C of this work for translations of selected aphorisms from Jaimini’s
M īm āṃsās ūtras. For a concise and insightful general introduction to various
aspects of M īm āṁsā, see A. B. Keith, Karma M īm āṃsā (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1921).
156
9
THE SĀṀK H YA DAR Ś A NA
I Introduction
Of all the Indian systems of philosophy, Sāṁ khya is perhaps the most ancient;
it is also the most respected in antiquity. Historical antecedents of this school
are found in the Upaniṣads. The school is famous for its metaphysical dualism
between two principles, viz., prak ṛti and puru ṣa, the theory of causation that
the effect pre-exists in the material cause and the theory of the evolution of
prak ṛti into the manifest world, which includes in its fold the cognitive, the
psychological, and the ethical components of human experiences. The desire
to know arises to overcome suffering and to attain mok ṣa (liberation, kaivalya),
so the stated goal of Sāṁ khya is “soteriological.” The non-discrimination between the unmanifest and the manifest is bondage, and the knowledge of the
discrimination between the two is liberation. Such discriminative knowledge
is required to reach the goal, which can be achieved not by rituals but by
reason and by meditation through the techniques of its sister school, Yoga.
The term “Sāṁkhya” is an adaptation from the word “saṅkhya,” and depending
on the context, it may mean “number,” “count,” “enumerate,” “rational enumeration,” etc. The school enumerates and rationally examines categories or principles
to enable individuals to gain the right knowledge, end their pain and suffering,
and achieve liberation. Tradition regards Kapila, a mythical sage, to be the
founder of this school. The exact dates of Kapila are unclear; however, one fnds
many Kapilas in the history of Indian literature. A Kapila appears in the Ṛg Veda1
and in the Svetāśvatara Upaniṣad, a theistic Upaniṣad,2 which possibly suggests that
Sāṁkhya school might have had a distinct theistic tendency and that its origin
might predate this work. The epic Mahābhārata mentions Sāṁkhya-Yoga, a school
taught by Kapila, a sage, who lived before the sixth century BCE. Book Twelve
of the epic Mahābhārata is replete with the proto-Sāṁkhya texts, and recognizes
three Sāṁkhya scholars, viz., Kapila, Āsuri, and Pañcaśikha. The Mahābhārata
refers to three Sāṁkhya doctrines: Those who accepted twenty-four, twenty-fve,
or twenty-six principles, and the last one was theistic. The infuential Bhagavad
G ītā is overwhelmingly Sāṁkhya. This school has been a major infuence on the
Ayurveda, the Hindu medical formulas, and practices.
Īśvarak ṛṣṇa’s S āṁkhyak ārik ā (SK) is the most authoritative and the earliest
work available for this school. Īśvarak ṛṣṇa in SK acknowledges that he is laying
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
down the teachings of Kapila as taught by Āsuri and Pañcaśikha. He also
claims that he has expounded the main doctrines of Sa ṣṭitantra (Doctrine of
Sixty Conceptions) in his SK. The main developments of this school occurred
in the period extending from the frst century CE to the eleventh century
CE. The most important commentary on SK is Gauḍ apāda’s Sa ṁkhyak ārik ābh āṣya. Other important commentaries on SK are Yuktid īpīka and Vācaspati’s S āṁkhyatattvakaumud ī. The S āṁkhyapravacanas ūtra (SPS) is the second most
important work of Sāṁ khya after SK. Several commentators wrote commentaries on it; I will mention only two: Anirruddha’s S āṁkhyas ūtravṛtti and
Vijñānabhik ṣu’s S āṁkhyapravacanabh āṣya.
At the outset, SK declares that the pursuit of happiness is the basic need of
all human beings, and there is a need to know the means of counteracting the
three-fold suffering. Liberation (kaivalya) comes from the knowledge of the distinction between prak ṛti and puru ṣa. Thus, the three pillars of this system are:
Prak ṛti, puru ṣa, and the theory of evolution, the primary focus of this chapter.
My exposition in this chapter is primarily based on SK, and I will begin my
analysis with the frst pillar, i.e., prak ṛti.
Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
There are two primary, mutually irreducible, indestructible principles, viz., prak ṛti (objective principle) and puru ṣa (subjective principle); both are ultimately real.
According to the traditional interpretation, prak ṛti is constituted of
the three gu ṇas: Sattva (“light,” “luminous,”), rajas (“exciting,” energy), and tamas (“heavy,” “sloth”). On this interpretation, prak ṛti is
material; likewise, the three guṇas are also material.
Puru ṣa, the principle of consciousness or subjectivity, exists independently of prak ṛti; it is the basic presupposition of experience.
There are many puru ṣas; they are qualitatively alike but quantitatively distinct.
The effect pre-exists in the material cause; in causation, there is a
“real transformation” of the form.
Everything in the universe is derived from prak ṛti. When the gu ṇas
are in equilibrium, prak ṛti remains unmanifest. When the equilibrium is disturbed, prak ṛti becomes manifest.
Bondage is due to non-discrimination between puru ṣa and prak ṛti.
The state of kaivalya (liberation), a state of “isolation” or “aloneness,” achieved by the right knowledge between prak ṛti and puru ṣa,
is the result of rational thinking.
Kaivalya signifes the dissolution of the manifest prak ṛti into an unmanifest state.
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T H E SĀ Ṁ K H YA D A R ŚA NA
II Prakṛti and the Guṇas
The S āṁ khya school attempts to provide an intelligible account of our experiences in the world. Our everyday experiences consist of the experiencer
and the experienced, the subject, and the object. The subject and the object,
puru ṣa, and prak ṛti, are distinct; one cannot be reduced to the other. The
S āṁ khya metaphysics is thus based on the bi-polar nature of our daily experiences. We experience a plurality of objects. How do these objects come
about? What is the ultimate cause of these objects? The causes are always
fner and subtler than the effects. Thus, there must be a cause, some fnest
and the subtlest stuff or principle that underlies the entire world of objects.
Such a cause is prak ṛti; it is the frst uncaused cause of all objects, gross and
subtle.
Prak ṛti is imperceptible because it is extremely fne and too subtle to be perceived; its existence is known by inference. Sāṁ khya adduces fve arguments
for its existence.3
Arguments for the Existence of Prakṛti
1
2
3
4
5
There must be an unlimited cause of all limited things;
there must be a universal or general source of pleasure, pain, and
indifference;
the primary source of all activity must be a potential cause;
the manifested world of effects must have an unmanifested cause;
and
there must be an unmanifest terminal of the cosmic dissolution.
Sāṁ khya conception of prak ṛti is based on the theory that changes in the
world are caused; they are not chance occurrences. This theory of causality
is known as “satk āryavāda” or the theory that the effect (k ārya) is existent (sat)
in the cause prior to its production. The question is: Is the effect something
new or different from its cause? The Sāṁ khya school argues that the effect
is nothing new because what did not exist could not arise; origination is really a transformation of the cause. Obviously, “cause” here means the “material
cause.” Nothing new ever comes into being, only a new form is manifested;
the material remains the same. As yogurt is produced from milk, or oil from
the oilseeds, or jewelry from a lump of gold, a new form is imparted to the
pre-existent stuff. No new stuff ever comes into being. This variety of satk āryavāda, i.e., the theory that the effect is a real transformation of the cause,
is known as pari ṇāmavāda (literally, “real-transformation-theory”).4
In support of its theory that the effect is only a manifestation of the cause,
Sāṁ khya provides fve arguments.5
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
Arguments for Causation
1
2
3
4
5
Something existent cannot arise from the non-existent6;
being invariably connected with it, the effect is only a manifestation of the material cause;
there is a determinate order obtaining between a cause and its effect so that everything cannot arise from everything;
only that cause can produce an effect of which it is capable so that
the effect must be potentially present in the cause; and
because like is produced from like.
The frst argument, one of the axioms of much of Indian thought, may be
expressed as follows: “What is, is, and what is not, is not.” In other words, what
is, cannot become non-existent, and what is non-existent can never come into
being. The G ītā, emphatically declares, “Of the non-existent, there is no coming
to be; of the existent, there is no ceasing to be.”7 Given this axiom, it was imperative that philosophers fnd a plausible explanation of change leaving aside the
common-sense view that things come to be and cease to be. Platonists gave one
explanation while arguing that the forms, the universals, are eternal, and the particulars exemplify the forms that are appearances. Sāṁkhya does not recognize
universals as entities; thus, a Platonic like solution was not an available option. So,
the school argues that the effect pre-exists in the cause; a non-existent entity cannot be made existent by any operation unless it was already present in the cause.
The second argument points to a necessary and invariable relation between
cause and effect; a cause cannot produce an effect with which it has no relation. In other words, a cause cannot enter into a relationship with what is not
real. Thus, a material cause can only produce an effect with which it is causally
related. Therefore, the effect must exist in the cause prior to its production.
The next three arguments are close to the Aristotelian notion of potentiality
and actuality; certain causes produce certain effects. One can make yogurt
only from milk; one can get mustard oil only from mustard seeds, not from
other grains. There exists a determinate order between a cause and effect because that alone which potentiality contains yogurt can be the cause of yogurt,
and that alone which potentiality contains oil can be the cause of oil; it is not the
case that just anything can be the cause of anything. The effect is another state
of the cause. Causation is a process of making explicit what was already there
implicitly. The cloth is contained in the thread, the oil in the mustard seeds.
The thrust of all these arguments is that the effect pre-exists in the material
cause; if it were not the case that the effect pre-existed in the cause, one could get
any effect from any cause, which would deny the relation of causality altogether.
Before proceeding further, let me underscore two points about the above
conception of causality: (1) Between the two modes of causality, the effcient and
the material, the latter is more fundamental because it is the latter that enters
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T H E SĀ Ṁ K H YA D A R ŚA NA
into the cause and produces the effect; and (2) the cause and the effect are the
unmanifest/manifest, the undeveloped/developed states of prak ṛti. Given this
conception of causality, it is not surprising that Sāṁ khya philosophers argue
that all worldly things are produced from an eternal, original prak ṛti.
There have been since antiquity, two accounts of original prak ṛti from
which objects of the world emerge: One is atomism, the view that the original stuff really consists of infnitely small elements called “param āṇus.” The
Vaiśeṣika school of Indian philosophy developed this position.8 The second
account held that the original stuff is a homogeneous mass with no internal
differentiation, and that the things of the world arise by a process of progressive differentiation; Sāṁ khya represents this view.
The process of evolution (emergence of the twenty-four principles) explains
the arising of all worldly things, which I will discuss a little later. For the present,
it is important to emphasize that all worldly things include material objects,
living beings, the mind, human bodies with their sensory structure, objects
of thinking, feeling, and willing. Prak ṛti and its evolutes are possible objects of
knowledge; puru ṣa (pure consciousness) alone is not included in the list.
Guṇas
•
•
•
•
•
•
The term “gu ṇa,” means “strand,” “quality,” “constituent,”
“energy-felds.”
There are three gu ṇas: Sattva, rajas, and tamas.
Sattva represents harmony, goodness, dynamic equilibrium, purity,
creativity, peacefulness, virtue, etc.
Rajas stands for activity, turbulence, passion, egoism, self-interest,
movement, individuation, etc.
Tamas signifes restrain, dullness, inertia, darkness, impurity, negativity, disorder, ignorance, violence, sloth, etc.
Everything in the world consists of the three gu ṇas in different proportions; they account for the variety that we see in this world.
The concept of “gu ṇa” has played an important role in almost all schools
of Indian philosophy. It is diffcult to give a one-word translation of this term
and capture its meaning. It has been used in a variety of senses in Indian
philosophical schools. Depending on the context, it may mean “strand,” “excellence,” “quality,” “a functional principle,” “tendency of something,” “component or constituent,” “energy-feld” “force,” “secondary” (not primary),
etc. Sāṁ khya gu ṇas are not Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika qualities; they are “metaphysical reals,” and act as “operational forces,” better yet “operational agents”9 to
transform unmanifested or undifferentiated prak ṛti into manifested or differentiated phenomenal world. Let me elaborate.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
Given the importance of the guṇas, there are several interpretations about
their nature, the category they belong to, and their relationship to prak ṛti. Since
puru ṣa is “pure” consciousness, scholars usually translate prak ṛti as “nature” or
“matter” (presumably to contrast puru ṣa with prak ṛti) and likewise take its three
guṇas to be “material” in nature. The issue of whether the guṇas are material is
quite different from the question to which ontological category they belong, i.e.,
whether they are objects or substances in the sense in which the philosophers
use the term, or properties, or substances in the everyday sense in which water
is a substance. Space limitations imposed here do not allow me to discuss these
issues in detail. In what follows, I will explore the nature of the guṇas vis-à-vis
prak ṛti and in the process discuss such questions as: Are the guṇas constituents or
parts of prak ṛti? Why Sāṁ khya needs guṇas? Are the guṇas qualities?
Sāṁ khya school maintains that before the world comes into being, prak ṛti is
an equilibrium of the three gu ṇas, viz., sattva, rajas, and tamas,10 and these three
“make up” the eternal prak ṛti.11
Scholars usually argue that the gu ṇas are “constituents” or “subtle substances” or “indivisible atoms” of prak ṛti. Sharma, for example, holds that
prak ṛti is the “unity” of the three gu ṇas and “they are the constituents” of
prak ṛti.12 Radhakrishnan states, “The term ‘gu ṇa’ may be translated as ‘attribute’ or ‘quality,’ but technically they are not qualities distinguishable from
substance; they are constituents rather than qualities.”13 Hiriyanna maintains
that the gu ṇas are “a component factor” or “a constituent” of prak ṛti. These
three constituents “though essentially distinct in nature, are conceived as interdependent, so they can never be separated from each other.”14 Dasgupta,
argues that the gu ṇas are “substantive entities or subtle substances and not
abstract qualities.”15 He further notes: Prak ṛti is the “sum-total of the gu ṇas.”16
For Feuerstein the gu ṇas are “actual entities”; they are not “merely qualities
or properties,” as they are the “ultimate building-blocks of the material and
mental phenomena in their entirety.” Feuerstein, however, goes a step further
and argues that they are “the indivisible atoms of everything there is, with
the exception of the Self (puru ṣa), which is nir-gu ṇa. The gu ṇas underlie every
appearance and are the world-ground in its noumenal character.”17
The use of such terms as “component” or “constituent” creates the misleading impression that the gu ṇas are “ingredients,” or “features,” or “items” or
“parts,” of prak ṛti; nothing could be further from the truth. SK makes a distinction between the evolved (manifest) and the unevolved (unmanifest), and
declares that whereas the manifest is caused, non-eternal, and with parts, etc.,
the unmanifest ( prak ṛti) is the reverse of these.18 Prak ṛti is indivisible and partless; it is not composed of parts.19 Thus, the gu ṇas cannot be the “parts,” or
the “constituents,” of prak ṛti. Given that prak ṛti does not have parts, it cannot
also be the unity of the gu ṇas; the relationship between the two is not that of a
whole and its parts. The whole acts as a container for the parts. For example,
a chariot is a whole that contains wheels, axles, poles, etc., as its parts. Or,
an automobile has a transmission, clutches, engine, etc., as its parts. Prak ṛti is
not the whole that contains the gu ṇas as its parts, so prak ṛti is not the sum-total
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of the gu ṇas. In fact, prak ṛti is not different from the gu ṇas. As Mahadeva, in
his S āṃkhyavṛttisāras ūtra says: Prak ṛti is not the “substratum” of the gu ṇas,20
and sattva, etc., are not the “properties” of prak ṛti, “because they are the form
thereof.”21 Vṛtti and bh āṣya on s ūtra 39 further declare that the relationship
between the two is that of identity and that the gu ṇas are the essences of prak ṛti.
The gu ṇas in themselves are prak ṛti. Gu ṇas are prak ṛti and prak ṛti is gu ṇas; prak ṛti
does not have sattva, rajas, and tamas; it is sattva, rajas, and tamas.22
The manifest, on the other hand, has the three gu ṇas, which, according
to SK, are respectively “pleasure, pain, and indifference,” and their “purposes” (artha) are to “shine forth, actuate, and restrain”; “they are mutually
subjugative, supportive, generative, and collaborative.”23 Sattva is “light and
illuminating” (prak āśa); and, as prak āśa has no weight (gurutva), sattva also does
not possess weight. The rajas is “exciting and mobile.” The tamas is “heavy and
enveloping” (āvarakatva). The gu ṇas function for the purpose of puru ṣa, i.e., the
emancipation of puru ṣa, like a lamp whose single purpose is to give light (just
like oil, wick, and fame in a lamp work together).24
Sāṃ khya needs gu ṇas. One may ask why. SK replies that the gu ṇas are
needed to transform the unmanifest into the manifold world of phenomena.
The unmanifest prak ṛti is the frst cause and it operates through the three
gu ṇas, by blending and modifcation on account of the differences resulting
from the predominance of one or the other gu ṇa.25 Prak ṛti manifests itself
through these “operational-forces” or “operational agents.”26 gu ṇas. The
three gu ṇas are needed to preserve the integrity of prak ṛti’s essential nature and
make transformation possible.
The term “sattva,” literally means “beingness.” The earliest attempt to give
“satya” a metaphysical meaning occurs in BU, 27 where sa + ti + yam, the three
syllables constituting the word, are interpreted as meaning the real, the unreal, and the real respectively, signifying that unreality is enclosed on both
sides by reality. The term “sat” in its ontological sense means “being,” “existing,” “occurring,” “enduring,” etc. However, in the philosophical context,
while retaining its ontological meanings, it also has the valuational meaning
of true, right, good, etc. The two senses taken together signify the idea of the
true being, the essence. Prak ṛti as sattva is existence. Of the remaining two
gu ṇas, while rajas is dynamic, mobile, expansive, and makes transformation
possible, tamas is inertia, limited, and restrains. These metaphysical agents or
forces of prak ṛti work together to unfold the different effects of creation.
They compete, dominate, combine, produce (in the sense of modifying each
other) in order to create the world. Sattva is progress, rajas provides impetus to
move, and tamas resists activity. When one guṇa is brought into play for some
purpose, it subjugates the other two; one depends on the other two; they mutually support, cooperate, and combine with each other, just like a lamp, wick (tamas), and fame (rajas), cooperate to give light. Prakṛti functions in accord with the
guṇas. As water is one but is found in different forms, as sweet, bitter, cold, hot,
etc.28; similarly, the ratio of the guṇas explains the variations that we see in the
world. The manifest world is an interplay of these guṇas. It is diffcult to conceive
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of any existent in the world that does not possess these gu ṇas to some degree. All
physical and mental phenomena; in fact, all things in the world, represent these
guṇas in different proportions. Indeed, all human individuals, by their very nature, are one of these three kinds. In some, sattva predominates; in others, rajas;
and in still others, tamas. Leaving aside the Hindu conception of the personality
types, but also food (and drink), is of three types contingent upon the proportion
of the guṇas. One cannot determine precisely the proportion of each guṇa in the
manifested world; nonetheless, the guṇa theory provides a powerful explanation
of the physical, the psychological, and the moral aspects of the worldly manifestation. In short, the guṇas pervade all physical and mental phenomena; they
explain personality types, psychological types of moods, actions of gravity, etc.
A cursory glance at the above description makes it obvious that the guṇas are
not “the indivisible atoms,” nor are they objects, like the atoms of the nineteenthcentury chemistry. They are not qualities or properties in the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika
sense of the term. The Vaiśeṣika’s guṇas are static, non-eternal, and cannot exist
by themselves. They reside in a substance; they are ontologically different from a
substance, and, by defnition, a guṇa cannot possess another guṇa.
The Sāṃ khya gu ṇas and prak ṛti are ontologically non-different. The gu ṇas
are not static; they themselves possess qualities. As we saw, each of the three
gu ṇas is described in terms of the qualities it especially promotes, and they can
be mixed. Whether in the original state of equilibrium or in the evolved state
of disequilibrium in the world, the gu ṇas are for-another in the sense that they by
a specifc teleology internal to prak ṛti exist for the purpose of self, i.e., to serve
his purpose. They are each—even in the state of equilibrium with-others, i.e.,
when each gu ṇa is with other gu ṇas in a “mixing” in different proportions—
struggling to increase itself and dominate over the other two. Each thus is in
a state of motion; even the tamas—which promotes sleep, stupor, and rest—
struggles to overpower the other two. Thus, in a narrow sense, the movement
or energy, the dynamis, is caused and promoted by the rajas. In a broader sense,
the sense in which prak ṛti is always in motion, each of the three gu ṇas, internally as well as in relation to the other two, is constantly changing.
But how does the disequilibrium begin leading to the emergence of the
world? To understand the system here, we must frst direct our attention to the
second pillar, puru ṣa, pure consciousness.
III Puruṣa
Puru ṣa is the second ultimate reality admitted by this school; it is the principle
of consciousness. Not reducible to prak ṛti, puru ṣa stands apart. This brings me
to the second axiom of Sāṁ khya: The Principle of the Irreducibility of Consciousness
to what is not conscious, i.e., to prak ṛti. Prak ṛti and its evolutes are the possible
objects of knowledge. The Sāṁ khya lists the following as the properties of puru ṣa: It is gu ṇa-less; eternal; inactive; eternally free; not involved, i.e., a witness
(sāk ṣin)29; indifferent to pleasure and pain; beyond the three gu ṇas; the seer of
all that is seen; and the subject for which all worldly things exist.
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Sāṁ khya adduces fve proofs for the existence of puru ṣa.30
Proofs for the Existence of Puru ṣa
1
2
3
4
5
All composite things exist to serve the purpose of a being, and that
being is puru ṣa.
All objects of knowledge are composed of the three gu ṇas which
implies that there is a subject which is not an object of experience,
and that is puru ṣa.
The experiences need to be co-ordinated; the consciousness that
enables prak ṛti to co-ordinate these is puru ṣa.
Prak ṛti being non-intelligent cannot by itself experience its products; there must be an intelligent experiencer, and that is puru ṣa.
Because there is activity toward fnal release; so, puru ṣa must exist.
Prak ṛti being non-intelligent cannot enjoy its own products; puru ṣa is the
intelligent subject, who experiences the products. Furthermore, prak ṛti cannot
manifest by itself. Puru ṣa is the principle of manifestation, self-manifesting as
well as manifesting the other. Puru ṣa is beyond the three gu ṇas; it is uncaused,
eternal, a passive witness, and the basic presupposition of all knowledge. It
transcends time and space, a pure subject that can never become an object.
Prak ṛti functions for the sake of the release (kaivalya) of puru ṣa.
To sum up: The contrast between puru ṣa and prak ṛti is as follows: Prak ṛti is
the object, puru ṣa is the subject; Prak ṛti is enjoyed; puru ṣa enjoys and suffers;
Prak ṛti is active, puru ṣa is not. Prak ṛti is sattva, rajas, and tamas, puru ṣa is beyond
them; and Puru ṣa is intelligent, prak ṛti is subject to the interplay of the three
gu ṇas.
There are, however, on the Sa ṁ khya view, many puru ṣas. Manyness of
puru ṣas is asserted on the following grounds:
1
2
3
because of the diversity of births, deaths, and faculties;
because of the actions or functions at different times; and
because of the differences in the proportions of the three gu ṇas.
Thus, the manyness of puru ṣas—as opposed to the Vedāntic thesis that the
Self is one—is established on the ground that birth and death, bondage, and
liberation, vary from person to person and occur at different times. Additionally, the behavior of different persons also varies and if there was only one
self, these variations could not be accounted for. Each body is associated with
a I-sense (aha ṁk āra).
Sāṁ khya advocates a dualism between prak ṛti and puru ṣa, a dualism that is
unlike the Cartesian dualism between matter and mind. In Sāṁ khya dualism
prak ṛti is always there. In Cartesian dualism, on the other hand, res cogitans
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
(puru ṣa) and res extensa (prak ṛti) are separate, and it is only when res cogitans and
res extensa meet that they come to know each other.
Pure, undifferentiated prak ṛti evolves into the experienced world. Evolution,
however, depends upon some relation between the two principles. But these
two, prak ṛti and puru ṣa, are diametrically opposed to each other, so their being
together is not intelligible. Additionally, their being together is not enough,
because they are always together. Therefore, a relation closer than “being
together” is required for prak ṛti to evolve, for its equilibrium to stir, for its original homogeneity to start breaking up. But how can two things, so different,
conjoin? Sāṁ khya literature calls it “sa ṁyoga,” which means “conjunction.”
But conjunction holds good between two material substances, e.g., a book and
my desk. How can there be a contact between a partless, inactive puru ṣa, and
(original) prak ṛti that has no internal differentiation?
Sāṁ khya replies to this question using various metaphors. Prak ṛti and puru ṣa
enter into a relationship “like the relationship between a lame man and a blind
man” (in a well-known story). Puru ṣa can see but cannot act (it knows but has
no agency); prak ṛti can act but does not know (where to go and on which path).31
When together, puru ṣa knows the way toward the goal it aims at, prak ṛti walks
along the path shown. In the story, the lame man climbs on the shoulder of the
blind man, and the two together follow the path to reach the goal.
But what is this goal? The SK states that puru ṣa must accomplish two goals:
“In order to see and in order to reach the state of alone-ness.”32 Puru ṣa can
see (can refect images), but prior to the emergence of the world and its infnite
concrete objects, puru ṣa has nothing to see (refect). Puru ṣa needs to be a concrete subjectivity. Through this process of increasing concretization, puru ṣa
aims at attaining the fnal liberation. The goal seems to be only of puru ṣa; it
alone can entertain a goal and determine the path appropriate for this goal;
prak ṛti, being active, seems to be led along this path, and toward the goal.
When the goal is reached, i.e., when puru ṣa becomes free, their provisional
co-operation ends; puru ṣa is eternally free, i.e., alone, and prak ṛti returns to,
or rather, relapses into its original state of pure undifferentiated homogeneity.
All along the way, nothing happens to puru ṣa. As prak ṛti becomes differentiated, the world with its objects is created (note that Sāṁ khya works use the
word “sarga,”33 meaning creation although there is no creator), puru ṣa gets
attached and tied to the world; there is a mistaken appearance of puru ṣa as beingin-the-world. Upon seeing this world, puru ṣa becomes free, so writes Gauḍ apāda
in his commentary on this k ārik ā. But “seeing,” in this context, is to be understood as “experiencing” or “activity.” Gauḍ apāda elucidates it with the help
of another metaphor to further expound the blame man and the lame man
metaphor: Just as from the union of a man and a woman a child is born,34 so
from the union of puru ṣa and prak ṛti arises creation, and I should add, through
the world so created liberation.
But is not puru ṣa eternally free, at least, that is what we were told earlier?
And, if that is the case, why should it now strive for liberation? I will visit this
question at the end of this chapter.
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IV Process of Evolution (or Creation)
S āṁ khya is basically a monistic cosmology insofar as it derives all evolutes
from prak ṛti. The earliest reference to the S āṁ khya variety of progression
series, one fnds in the Ka ṭha Upani ṣad, where the order of the series is:
(1) Puru ṣa, (2) the unmanifest, (3) the great ātman, (4) the buddhi (intellect-will),
(5) the manas (mind), (6) the objects (of the senses), and (7) the senses. 35 The
G īt ā mentions twenty four S āṁ khya tattvas (principles): The fve gross or the
great elements, the I-sense, intellect-will, prak ṛti, the fve organs of action
(karmendriya), the fve cognitive organs, the mind (manas), and the fve objects
of the senses.36
Sāṁ khya argues that from the undifferentiated prak ṛti, the world emerges
in the following order:
Mahat (great or buddhi) → aha ṃk āra (ego-sense, I-sense) → manas
(mind) → buddhīndriyas (fve sense organs) → karmendriya (fve organs
of action) → tanm ātras (the fve subtle elements) → mah ābh ūtas (fve
great or gross elements)
Together with the original prak ṛti and puru ṣa, there are twenty-fve tattvas
or philosophical truths.37 Knowing these twenty-fve tattvas (in their precise
nature) is to gain wisdom that brings about liberation, at least that is what
S āṁ khya promises. These tattvas are not empirical facts, but each category
is composed of empirical facts. For a clear understanding of the Sāṁ khya
theory of evolution, it is essential to understand not only the distinct function
of these tattvas, but also to grasp clearly the order of their appearance in the
process of evolution.38
The Samkhya Evolutionary Schemata
(SK 25, 26, and 27)
1. Purusa
2. Prakṛti
3. Mahat (or buddhi )
4. Ahaṃkāra
Cognitive organs
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
Eye
Ear
Smelling
Tasting
Touching
Action organs
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
Cognitive and Action organ
Speech
Hand
Foot
Anus
Genital
15. Mind
Subtle Elements
16. Sound
17. Touchable
18. Smell
19. Form
20. Taste
5 to 15 consist of sattva guṇa
16 to 20 consist of tamas guṇa
167
Great or Gross Elements
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
Ether
Wind
Earth
Fire
Water
THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
Let us briefy review these principles and their distinct functions. The frst
evolute is mahat, also called “buddhi” or intellect. Buddhi arises on account of
the preponderance of the sattva gu ṇa, and its natural function is to manifest itself and other objects. In its original state, it possesses such attributes as knowledge, detachment, power, and excellence; however, when vitiated by tamas, it
possesses contrary to the above virtues. In its psychological aspect, the buddhi
is intellect-will, and its special functions are ascertainment and decision.
Puru ṣa is in direct contact with the buddhi, through which it becomes aware
of the activities of prak ṛti. Buddhi, as the discriminative faculty, distinguishes
between itself and puru ṣa, and makes liberation possible.39
The second evolute is the I-sense, the “I,” or the ego; there are many egos.40
It is on account of the feeling of the “I” and the “mine” that the puru ṣa takes
itself to be an agent as having desires and as striving to achieve certain ends,
e.g., enlightenment. The I-sense is of three kinds: It is sāttvika when sattva predominates; it is rājasika when rajas predominates, and t āmasika when tamas predominates. From the frst (sāttvika) arise the eleven organs, namely, the fve
cognitive organs, the fve organs of action (karmendriya), and the mind (manas).
From the third (i.e., t āmasika) arise the fve subtle elements (tanm ātras). The second (viz., rājasika) is concerned with both, the frst and the third, and supplies
the energy needed for sattva and tamas to produce their products. The senses of
sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch are the fve cognitive senses. These perceive the physical qualities of color, sound, smell, taste, and touch respectively.
The organs of actions are in the mouth, hands, feet, anus, and the genital
respectively. The mind (manas), the primary organ, partakes of the nature of
both the organs of knowledge and action; it is a member of the psychic triad,
the other two members being the mahat and the aha ṁk āra. The manas, though a
subtle substance, is made up of parts; so, it can come into contact with several
objects simultaneously. The mind synthesizes the sense data and transforms
them into determinate perceptions. In short, evolution is a play of twenty-fve
principles including puru ṣa, in which prak ṛti is number one, and the fve gross
elements the last.
The precise interpretation of this chain of creation is a matter of great interest for the Indian philosophers. I will provide an explanation that I fnd
appealing.
When Sāṁ khya speaks of the “world,” it understands by the word “the totality of human experience.” Experience (bhoga) includes enjoyment, as well as
its opposite, i.e., suffering. Sāṁ khya in its theory of evolution gives an account
of how pure consciousness (puru ṣa), becomes an enjoyer-sufferer. The question
arises: How does pure consciousness become an empirical ego, an enjoyersufferer as well as an empirical cognizer and agent?
First, a richly differentiated world of objects with varying proportions of
the gu ṇas is required, which is possible only if there are the gross elements or
atoms. Gross elements of Sāṁ khya are concretizations of pure sensory data,
color, touch, sound, etc., the correlates of the fve sense organs of knowledge
and fve sense organs of action. We thereby have all the contents needed for the
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T H E SĀ Ṁ K H YA D A R ŚA NA
empirical ego’s awareness. These are unifed in an “I”-sense. The different
“I”-senses, however, are particularizations of the mahat, also known as “buddhi” or intelligence. This story retraces the chain from the evolved to the antecedent conditions. The Sāṁ khya account given above inverts this sequence
as the order of creation and answers an old question, asked in the Upaniṣads:
How does the one become the many? In response, Sāṁ khya says, “by progressive differentiation and concretization.”
It is worth remembering, puru ṣa is independent of prak ṛti; it does not arise
from prak ṛti. Prak ṛti and puru ṣa are original principles. As prak ṛti becomes progressively differentiated, “consciousness” ( puru ṣa) is somehow refected in the
constituted chain. While puru ṣa appears to become differentiated, it really
does not. The relationship between puru ṣa and prak ṛti is like that between jewel
and fower. When the jewel stands alone without the fower, the color of the
fower is no longer there.41 Another Sāṁ khya metaphor is that of the red rose
and the pure crystal. The rose sits behind the crystal, not touching it, but to
the eye-level observer in front of the crystal, it appears to be embedded in the
crystal.42 The ego becomes “ego-consciousness,” which is not an additional
process but occurs because of the “proximity” of the two. Thus, there is a
certain phenomenality in this differentiation of puru ṣa as ego-consciousness,
sensory-consciousness, body-consciousness, etc. Pure puru ṣa appears to be an
empirical person. He appears to experience both pleasure and pain, which
seemingly “entangle” him.
The bound self—now seemingly a-being-in-the-world, for whom the world
is inextricably involved in enjoyment/suffering structure—is brought under
the concept of “dukkha” or pain. He then wants to be free from this pain.
“Pain” arises from the preponderance of the rajas, the active unsatisfed energy, so to speak. However, cessation of pain comes about through both the
knowledge of the true natures of prak ṛti and puru ṣa and requires an excess and
predominance of sattva over rajas and tamas. A long and arduous intellectual
process aided by yoga culminates in the puru ṣa’s clear and distinct knowledge
of its own nature as distinguished from all “natural” or mundane elements
with which he had so long identifed himself. The puru ṣa then, is “alone”; he
is not in-the-world and also not with-others, which explains why liberation
is described as “kaivalya.” All enjoyment and suffering ceases along with its
content, i.e., the world. In Sāṁ khya terminology, the manifest world returns
to its original home, namely, the undifferentiated prak ṛti. Undoubtedly, there
would be innumerable questions about this account. I will here mention and
respond to some of them.
First, puru ṣa as free is said to be lonely; he is by himself. There is no intersubjectivity, no being-with-other egos. Intersubjectivity is empirical. Pure
subjectivity is “aloneness.”
Secondly, this tying of the experienced world to puru ṣa seems to make the
world subjective-relative, as though each person, each ego, has his own world.
With his liberation, his world would cease to be. What about the other subjects and egos? They would still be “bound,” so “in their own world.” This
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
asymmetrical distribution of liberation and bondage is one of the premises
from which the manyness of puru ṣas—a cornerstone of the system—was in the
frst place inferred.
The above objection seems plausible. It is indeed true that Sāṁ khya writers
did recognize jagadvaicitrya, i.e., many different worlds, each a correlate of one
puru ṣa. However, they did not quite realize that they must account for the
possibility of one world being “constructed” out of it. It is worth remembering
that the original unmanifested prak ṛti is common to all selves, and remains,
even after the liberation of one, where and how it was. It is the manifest prak ṛti
which dissolves. But how does prak ṛti cease to undergo manifestation, if one
self attains liberation?
The Sāṁ khya, in reply, uses another metaphor: Just as a dancer dances for
the entertainment of the spectator(s) and, when the spectator is satisfed, etc.,
ceases to dance, the same is true here. Prak ṛti “shows her manifest forms” until
the puru ṣa no longer has the desire to see.43
It is important to note that Sāṁ khya uses metaphors: We have had several
along the way, the metaphor of the lame man and the blind, the sexual “coupling” of a man and a woman producing a child, jewel and the fower, a rose
and the crystal, and fnally, the spectator and the dancer.
Can metaphors be substitutes for philosophical argumentation? Can we say,
in defense of Sāṁ khya, that philosophical arguments may be either logicalanalytical or poetic-metaphorical? The Sāṁ khya no doubt uses standard Indian logic’s inferences to prove the existence of many worlds of prak ṛti and
the manyness of puru ṣas. But when it comes to speaking and making sense of
the ultimate relationships (which are yet not empirical relations), metaphors
are needed to illuminate rather than to convince the skeptics. They show the
possibility of such a relation, not a logical possibility, but an intelligible possibility. Besides, metaphors are deeply embedded in the structure of language
and thinking, and if Martin Heidegger is right in saying that original thinking
is poetic, then through its metaphors, Sāṁ khya is making its thinking intelligible, if not actual. We have a rhetoric, which has not yet become logic, which
is not to suggest that the Sāṁ khya did not have a theory of knowledge, which
I will discuss next.
V Sāṁkhya Epistemology
Sāṁ khya, like the rest of the Indian systems, developed its own theory of
knowledge with a theory of inferential knowledge subordinated to it. Knowledge of objects is obtained in the context of a relational structure obtaining
within the world; however, without some special relation to puru ṣa, the self
would not be a knower and have the mode of awareness “I know.” The faculty
of buddhi makes this mode of awareness possible. It is transcendent and shining
because of the preponderance of the sattva gu ṇa and creates the impression as if
it were puru ṣa. Thus, puru ṣa is refected in it, a refection which is falsely taken
to be an experience of puru ṣa assuming the form “I know.” The commentator
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Vijñānabhik ṣu with his Vedāntic bias takes this refection to be the result of
the superimposition of the buddhi-state on puru ṣa, a false ascription. Puru ṣa now
takes the buddhi-state, a mundane transformation, to be its own. This “taking
it to be” is not a real content but an appearing to be which, according to some
scholars, is “somewhat mythical.”44 Yoga, Vedānta, and Buddhism also subscribe to the doctrine of the close connection between the cognitive process
and the buddhi as its instrument, though Buddhism uses the term “citta” for
buddhi.45 The infuence of Sāṁ khya on these systems regarding the cognitive
process is indelible. In the Nyāya system, buddhi is deprived of this special role,
because the word “buddhi” is used synonymously with “knowledge,” and “experience,” and “manas” and the sense-organs are taken to be its instruments.46
There are three kinds of valid cognitions: Perception, inference, and testimony (śabda).47 The objects are determined, “measured,” by the pram āṇas
(which are like “measures”) in the same way as in a measuring balance, a thing
is measured. I have already discussed the three cognate terms, “pram āṇa,”
“pram ā” and “prameya,”48 and I will revisit them again as we proceed in our
investigation. For the present, I will provide a quick explanation of the three
pram āṇas, viz., perception, inference, and testimony in Sāṁ khya.49
Perception is through the sense organs each having its own specifc object.
Perception is the direct cognition of an object when any sense comes in contact
with it. SK defnes perceptions as “determination by judgment (adhyavasāya) of
each object through its appropriate sense organs.”50 The defnition suggests
that perception does not merely receive a sensory datum, but also involves an
interpretation, a judgment, founded upon such a datum. When an object, say,
a chair, meets the eyes, it is synthesized by the mind. Buddhi then becomes
modifed in the shape of the chair. Buddhi, being an unconscious material
principle cannot by itself know the chair; however, on account of the preponderance of the sattva gu ṇa, puru ṣa is refected in it. With this refection, the
buddhi’s unconscious modifcation becomes illumined as the perception of the
object, in this case, a chair.
Inference or anum āna is the process by which what is not being perceived is
determined.51 SK divides inference into three kinds: P ūrvavat, i.e., that which
infers from a mark (li ṇga or the middle term), śe ṣavat, i.e., that which infers
from an effect to the cause, and sām ānyatodṛṣṭa, i.e., that which brings together
many singular judgments under a universal.
In the frst case, p ūrvavat, i.e., “like what has been before,” one infers based
on past experiences (hence this name). It is based on the observed uniformity
of concomitance between two things, e.g., one sees dark clouds and infers that
rain is to follow.
The second, i.e., śe ṣavat, proves something to be true by eliminating all
other available alternatives; for example, one infers that sound must be a quality because it cannot be a substance, an action, a relation, or anything else.
The third, i.e., sām ānyatodṛṣṭa inference, is based on the similarity between
the middle term with the facts that are uniformly related to it. The question
is: How do we know that we have sense organs? It would not make sense to say
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that perception testifes to the existence of sense organs, because we perceive
objects via sense organs. The Sāṁ khya argues that the following inference
proves the existence of sense organs:
All actions require some means or instrument.
The perception of color, etc., is an action.
Therefore, there must be some means of perception.
Here we infer the existence of sense organs based on the act of perception, not
because we have observed the sense organs and the means to be invariably
connected.
The Sāṁ khya school subscribes to the fve-membered inference of Nyāya.52
What is neither perceived nor inferred. (i.e., not capable of determination by
either) is known by the “words of a competent authority” (śabda) by which is
primarily meant the infallible words of the sages and śruti. The extremely supersensible objects such as “after-life,” “karma,” and “dharma,” are established
by śabda.
Things may not be perceived owing to various reasons: Extreme distance
(Caitra and Maitra, two persons, are not perceived being at distant places
now), extreme nearness (the eye may not see owing to extreme closeness to
the object), non-reception of sensations by sense organs (e.g., a blind person
does not see since his visual sense organ does not receive visual sensations),
subtleness (smoke and vapor are not seen owing to their rarefed natures),
lack of attention (attending to one thing exclusively, one does not see things
nearby owing to inattention), being over-powered (stars in the sky are not seen
during the day, the eyes being overwhelmed by sun-rays), and an aggregate of
homogeneous things (one grain of rice is not discriminated after it is thrown
into a heap of rice).53
Among the reasons, extreme subtlety is responsible for our not perceiving
prak ṛti and puru ṣa. For example, atoms are not perceived because they are extremely subtle (fneness) and are inferred as causes from their effects; similarly,
original unmanifest prak ṛti is inferred from such experienced entities as buddhi
and ego-sense as their cause on the bases of similarity and difference. The
effect must be like the cause in some respects but different in other respects,
as children are both like and unlike their parents, on the basis of the fact that
they are both vir ūpa and sar ūpa.54 Further inferences are used to prove that
these effects must have been previously existent in the cause.
VI Concluding Remarks
Sāṁ khya is a grand intellectual accomplishment by way of incorporating all
aspects of human experiences in their variety as well as in their commonalities
within one conceptual framework. There is an overpowering tendency to take
recourse to a monism, with materialism55 at the one end and monistic idealism at the other. Sāṁ khya skillfully avoids these extremes, ending up with a
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dualism, not a provisional dualism, but a fnal, further irreducible dualism.
Such a dualism, the G īt ā also incorporates into its monistic framework, albeit
a provisional dualism to be overcome ultimately. In Sāṁ khya, this dualism
between prak ṛti and puru ṣa continues even when the world dissolves, i.e., in the
state of mok ṣa (kaivalya), experience ceases to be, prak ṛti returns to its quiescent
state of equilibrium, and puru ṣa remains what it was originally, unbound, and
eternally free.
To render its dualism intelligible, Sāṁ khya needed some sort of
relationship—other than the simple difference between prak ṛti and puru ṣa.
Accordingly, Sāṁ khya in its later development modifes this total otherness somewhat and informs us that prak ṛti is for the purpose of puru ṣa. This
concession—namely, that prak ṛti, despite its total difference from puru ṣa, exists
for the sake of puru ṣa, for satisfying the goal of puru ṣa, that puru ṣa by “seeing”
prak ṛti comes to its own satisfaction and prak ṛti returns to its quiescent state—
opens a Pandora’s box. If prak ṛti is totally other than puru ṣa, how can it yet be for
the sake of puru ṣa? Does not this “being for” militate against the autonomy of
prak ṛti? The idealists use this separation to make the case that Sāṁ khya is only
a stepping-stone for Advaita Vedānta; thus, in the long run, prak ṛti is only a
“posit” of puru ṣa, that puru ṣa sets up its own opposite, its own other, to achieve
a goal. But, even for the Advaita school, what could this goal be? For both the
Sāṁ khya and the Advaita schools, it is freedom, no doubt; however, how could
freedom serve as a goal if puru ṣa is eternally free? One answer, which the
Sāṁ khya offers, is to strive after freedom, puru ṣa must get entangled with prak ṛti,
i.e., it must be “bound” and in chains. So, we have a strange circularity: Puru ṣa gests imprisoned to become free, though it is eternally free (nitya m ūkta).
From this charge of circularity, neither Sāṁ khya nor the Advaitins have any
escape save by subscribing to the theory that really there is no creation, no
imprisonment, no chain, no escape from it, except in the sense of removing
an “illusion.” The Sāṁ khya realism, however, rebels against such a position.
Must we, at least, concede that Sāṁ khya realism is slightly softened by prak ṛti’s
“being for puru ṣa,” though not abandoned?
How does all this hang together? Clearly by admitting a sort of “unconscious teleology,” “a purposiveness but no purpose,”56 a purposiveness built
into prak ṛti and manifested in its ordered development, and the sequence “naturally” geared towards that purpose, and a purposiveness built into puru ṣa
whose for being, its raison d'être, is to achieve kaivalya and the return of prak ṛti to its
quiescent state. Notice that this is the only system of Indian thought that has a
teleology built into it.
This teleology combined with the autonomy of prak ṛti also saves the
Sāṁ khya school from materialism or gross naturalism. Prak ṛti, though unconscious, is not matter. It is acit, but consists not of atoms whirling about, but
of the so-called “gu ṇas.” The gu ṇas are not full-blown personal agents or fullblown emotions, but they may be shaped after such agents or emotions. The
most vivid way we experience causation is through making things happen as
agents, or as being moved to act by our emotions. The descriptions of the gu ṇas
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
as operational agents bring together a conception of intellectual, ethical, and
psychological, attributes (and propensities), as well as physical characteristics
in a curious manner. The gu ṇas are neither material nor mental. According
to one etymology, the “gu ṇas” are so-called because they serve a twofold purpose: They appear to bind puru ṣa and also serve (in the case of “sattva”) the
purpose of both bondage and freedom. This is another consequence of the
purposiveness without purpose.
Sāṁ khya usually has been construed as a variety of naturalism, implying
the belief that everything arises from natural causes and properties, which either rules out or slights the belief in the supernatural. If “naturalism” is taken
to be the thesis that the mind is reducible to natural processes, then Sāṁ khya
may be said to be “naturalism.”57 However, manifested nature is not all of reality. There stands opposed to it, irreducible to it the principle of subjectivity,
i.e., consciousness (puru ṣa), the basic presupposition of any experience, which
limits the systems “naturalism” (perhaps, a better characterization for Sāṁ khya
than “materialism”).
Critics have taken Sāṁ khya to task for their conception of the gu ṇas. Śa ṃkara, for example, argues that the qualities represented can only belong to a
“spirit,” not to the unconscious prak ṛti or nature. The Sāṁ khya cryptic admission of “being for the other,” of prak ṛti’s “being-for-puru ṣa” determines this
feature, even of the gu ṇas, which are prone to accentuate or refect certain qualities in puru ṣa; they stimulate tendencies and appropriate dispositions. “Prak ṛti”
thus is not to be understood naturalistically; it is misleading to construe it as
purely physicalistically or materialistically. Puru ṣa has no qualities; it is pure
consciousness plain and simple.
Finally, the state of liberation as “alone-ness,” implies a total negation of
inter-subjectivity which is not a very attractive goal no doubt, yet it is the original ontological state of puru ṣa. But we are also informed that there are many
puru ṣas. Manyness (of puru ṣas) implies that they are mutually different, and
this difference seems to be built into the domain of puru ṣa. Is puru ṣa’s oneness
consistent with its manyness? The Advaitic account eventually comes to terms
with the utter inexplicability of individuation by coming to regard the many
as but a product of avidyā, ignorance. The many is said to be the līl ā, i.e., the
sport of the One, the brahman; in saying this, the Advaitins emphasize that the
brahman could not have any purpose in creating the Many. On the Advaita
logic, the differences are false, a mere appearance. In Sāṁ khya, any distinguishing feature of one person from another becomes a product of prak ṛti and
so an empirical feature deriving from the body-mind complex. When puru ṣa
is considered by itself in its purity, whence its differentiating feature? The
Sāṁ khya arguments for manyness are double-edged. The determinate order
of bondage and liberation, for example, the order, namely, that my bondage
persists even when you are liberated, is tentatively persuasive. But recall that
bondage and liberation are conditions of the empirical persons, not of pure
puru ṣa. Yet the Sāṁ khya intuition that there is a manyness of puru ṣas is undeniable, and the diffculty reappears from the other side as well: A monist
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T H E SĀ Ṁ K H YA D A R ŚA NA
must explain how does even the phenomenon of manyness, of distinct puru ṣas,
appear at all?
I concede Sāṁ khya its fundamental intuitions. The system is a daring attempt to accommodate them with great skill no doubt but how successfully? I
will let my readers answer this question. I do not wish to treat them as a mere
stepping-stone to the non-dualism of Advaita Vedānta.
Study Questions
1. Explain the Sāṁ khya theory of prak ṛti and the three gu ṇas.
2. Discuss the fve arguments that Sāṁ khya provides to prove that the effect
pre-exists in the cause. Sāṁ khya school argues that “the effect is nothing
new, because what did not exist could not arise; origination is really a
transformation of the material cause. Nothing new ever comes into being,
only a new form is manifested; the material remains the same.” Do you
fnd the Sāṁ khya position plausible? Give reasons for your answer.
3. Discuss the Sāṁ khya arguments to prove the existence of puru ṣa and the
multiplicity of puru ṣas. Do you fnd these arguments convincing? Substantiate your position with rational arguments.
4. Discuss the Sāṁ khya theory of evolution. Analyze the distinct function of
each of the twenty-fve principles.
5. Sāṁ khya describes the state of liberation as “alone-ness.” Do you fnd it
appealing? Why should one pursue it? Critically explain the Sāṁ khya
conceptions of bondage and liberation.
Suggested Readings
For a useful introduction, see Gerald James Larson, Classical S āṃkhya: An Interpretation of Its History and Meaning (Delhi: Motilal Banarasidass, 1998). Also,
see Gerald James Larson and Ram Shankar Bhattacarya (eds.), S āṃkhya: A
Dualist Tradition (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987). To date,
this is the most comprehensive work in English on this school; it not only includes the historical development, summaries of major texts, and thinkers
of the school, but also an analysis of the important concepts and conceptual distinctions. The S āṃkhya Philosophy, Nandalal Sinha (tr.), Sacred Books
of the Hindus (New York: AMS Press, 1974), Vol. 11, contains translations of
S āṁkhyapravacanas ūtra Anirruddha’s S āṁkhyas ūtravṛtti and Vijñānabhik ṣu’s
S āṁkhyapravacanabh āṣya, and more. Mike Burley, Classical S āṃkhya and Yoga –
An Indian Metaphysics of Experience (New York: Routledge, 2012), provides a
unique interpretation of the Sāṃ khya school.
175
10
THE YOGA DAR Ś A NA
I Introduction
“Yoga” is a general term associated with a variety of physical, mental, and
spiritual practices or disciplines that originated in ancient India. These practices are used for the realization of the highest goal of life. The roots of yogic
practice, however, are traced to the Dravidian culture of pre-Aryan India.
Some scholars argue that the Indus Valley civilization practiced a form of meditational yoga. The archaeological excavation of Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro
has uncovered this non-Aryan origin of yoga practice. Several fascinating seals
picture a male person sitting in a “lotus position,” typical of the later India’s
meditational yoga. An unusual stone bust in a yogic posture provides additional
testimony of the practice of yoga in pre-Aryan India.
It is obvious that yoga has been practiced in India since well before recorded
history; it is an integral part of the Indian culture and philosophies. There has
been a very ancient tradition of the practice of yoga in Aryan India: The Ṛg
Veda, some of the early Upaniṣads, the epic Mah ābh ārata, C āṇakya’s Artha śāstra,
and the early Buddhist writings provide eloquent testimony to the practice of
yoga in India. It is an important component of the spiritual practice of the Indian ascetics of all varieties, and most Indian philosophical systems recognize
the importance of practicing yoga in some form or the other.
Yoga is one of the six āstika darśanas of Indian philosophy. It is diffcult to
ascertain precisely when Yoga became a school of Indian philosophy. Yoga, as
a philosophical system, i.e., as a darśana along with the other Indian darśanas,
however, goes back to Patañjali’s Yoga S ūtras, the foundational and the most important work of this school. Leaving aside Yoga S ūtras, several works have been
credited to Patañjali. A person named Patañjali also authored Mah ābh āṣya, an
ancient work on the Sanskrit grammar and linguistics based on the A ṣṭādhyāyī
of Pāṇ ini. It is doubtful that the same Patañjali authored both works. However, there is no doubt that Patañjali’s Yoga S ūtras is the frst systematic work on
Yoga darśana. Vyā sa’s commentary on Yoga S ūtras entitled Yogabh āṣya, Vācaspati
Misra’s Tattvavai śāradi, Bhojarāja’s Yogas ūtravṛtti, and Vijñānabhik ṣu’s Yogavārtika and Yogasārasa ṅgraha are also useful sources of the Yoga school.
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T H E YOGA DA R ŚA NA
Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
The aim of yoga is cittavṛttinirodha, i.e., “the cessation of the modifcations of the citta.”1
There are two primary, indestructible principles: Prak ṛti and puru ṣa.
There are fve kinds of mental modifcations or cittavṛttis: Pram āṇa
(right cognition), viparyaya (wrong cognition or error), vikalpa (imagination), nidrā (sleep), and sm ṛti (memory).
The fve defects (kle śas) opposed to the practice of yoga are ignorance, ego, desire, aversion, and clinging to life.
Puru ṣa, though eternally free, when refected in the citta, becomes a
jīva.
There are fve levels of citta (cittabh ūmi). These are: K ṣipta or constantly moving, m ūdha or fxed on one object and without the
freedom to move on to another, vik ṣipta or distracted, ek āgra or onepointed, and niruddha or restrained.
Patañjali rejects the heavenly worlds promised by the Vedic texts as
rewards of the ritualistic performances.
Patañjali does not regard Īśvara as the creator of the universe; Īśvara
is only a special kind of puru ṣa.
Īśvara is the model of the highest perfection and knowledge.
The etymology of the word “yoga” is derived from the root “yuj,” meaning
“to connect,” “to unite” two things, i.e., yoking the higher self with the lower
self. Though the overall metaphysical and epistemological theses of the Indian
darśanas vary considerably, the underlying idea—that the senses, passions, desires, etc., lead individual beings astray, and the practice of yoga is the best way
for self-purifcation by calming the senses—remains the same. If one’s mind
and body are impure and restless, one cannot really comprehend spiritual
matters. Yoga lays down a practical path for self-realization, i.e., the realization
of the self as pure consciousness.
It has become common to couple Sāṁ khya and Yoga together. Sāṁ khya explicitly accepts yoga as the practical means to the realization of mok ṣa (kaivalya),
and the Yoga school subscribes to the theoretical framework of the Sāṁ khya
school. Patañjali was a brilliant compiler of the fundamental ideas of yoga,
and in that compilation exhibited his undeniable philosophical and systematic
thinking. Today, while the works on yoga abound in all Western languages, it
is worthwhile to review the Yoga S ūtras, which is the classic text on the theme
of yoga and has stood the test of time. For all practical purposes, the Yoga S ūtras
accept the metaphysics and epistemology of Sāṁ khya: The Yoga school, like
Sāṁ khya, accepts two primary, indestructible principles, prak ṛti (objective
177
THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
principle) and puru ṣa (pure consciousness); three pram āṇas: Perception, inference, and testimony, but adds the requirements, the steps, the parts, of the
discipline to enable the aspirant to progressively achieve the goal of mok ṣa.
The study of yoga is an important means to get to know a major component of
Indian life and culture.
Given that metaphysics, epistemology, and the theory of evolution, have already been discussed in the Sāṁ khya chapter, this chapter will focus on Yoga
Psychology, Ethics, and God.
II Yoga Psychology
In the S āṁ khya-Yoga school, the j īva or the individual self is of the nature
of consciousness (cit); it is free from the limitations of the body, the senses,
and the modifcations of the mind. Knowledge, as we know, is a product of
prak ṛti; it is ascribed to the self ( puru ṣa) falsely. Puru ṣa—the word Yoga Sūtras
frequently uses for the self—by mistake takes the mind to be the knower.
All cognitive functions and the resulting cognitive products belong to citta,
a product of prak ṛti. The goal of the practice of yoga is to empty the thought
process of phenomenality, to gain knowledge of the true self, by distinguishing it from prak ṛti.
Patañjali defnes “yoga” as “cittavṛttinirodha,”2 which means “the cessation
of the modifcations of the citta.”3 So, before proceeding further, let us ascertain
what is meant by “citta.” In Buddhist literature, “citta” is usually translated as
“mind.”4 On the Yoga view, however, citta is a comprehensive designation that
includes among other things, manas or mind, “ahaṁkara” or “the I-sense,” and the
“buddhi” or “intellect,” which assist the self to acquire the knowledge of the world.
“Manas” in the narrow sense, receives and organizes sensations; “ahaṁkāra” is the
source of self-awareness, self-identity, and self-conceit, and relates sensory objects
to the ego; “buddhi,” produces knowledge of the object, and makes judgments and
discrimination possible. Manas, ahaṁkāra, and buddhi, have the three guṇas5—
sattva, rajas, and tamas—in different proportions. The knowledge that brings
about liberation puts an end to the incessant modifcations of the mind (cittavṛttis).
In ordinary parlance, a cittavṛtti is a mental modifcation (cognitive mode) of
the mind which is in a constant process of change or fow. If citta is an ocean,
then the cittavṛttis are its waves. In the Western philosophical vocabulary, we
can say that citta is constantly outward-directed; its intentionality is in a process of change, which is the cause of suffering or dukkha. Patañjali defnes yoga
as a cessation of the changing intentionality of citta. When the activities of the
body, the senses, and the mind are under control, the modifcations of the citta
are suppressed, suffering ceases, the self discriminates itself from the mindbody complex and returns to its true nature as pure consciousness.
Patañjali, after defning “yoga,” discusses vṛttis (mental modifcations).6 The
fve cittavṛttis or cognitive mental modifcations or modes are: Pram āṇa (right
cognition), viparyaya (wrong cognition or error), vikalpa (imagination), nidrā
(sleep), and sm ṛti (memory).7
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T H E YOGA DA R ŚA NA
Cittavṛttis (Cognitive Mental Modes)
1
2
3
4
5
Pram āṇas (means of right cognition)
Viparyaya (misconception, not seeing things as they really are)
Vikalpa (imagination)
Nidrā (sleep, lack of cognitive mode, dreams, etc.)
Smṛti (recollection of past experiences)
The pram āṇas are the ways of arriving at the right cognitions. As stated
earlier, the Yoga school accepts three pram āṇas: Sense perception, inference,
and verbal testimony.8 In an external perception, there is a contact between
the senses and the object, and the mind is transformed into the shape of the
object. The citta—being extremely clear on account of the preponderance of
the sattva gu ṇa and being closest to the puru ṣa—catches the refection of puru ṣa
and becomes conscious so to speak. In sense perceptions, we apprehend the
generic as well as the specifc characters of an external object through the
sense organs. Sense perception is a vṛtti which apprehends the specifc and
the generic nature of an external object Thus, in perceiving a cow, we not only
know that the animal is a cow but also that she is white in color. The mind receives an impression, consciousness is refected in it, resulting in consciousness
seeing its own refection as containing the form of the object (see the fgure
given below). It therefore appears as if the self knows the object.
Mind
Object
Consciousness
or
Puru˜a
Impression:
the form
of the object
Reflection in
the light of
consciousnes
In inference, the object is mediately known through the perception of another object with which it has the relation of universal co-presence. By inference, one knows the generic nature of objects.9
Verbal testimony is the way one comes to know an object (which one does
not himself perceive or infer) based on the verbal reports of a trustworthy
speaker who has known the object. The speaker must be free from defects,
such as illusion, deceit, laziness, etc., and must also be compassionate. It is also
179
THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
the source of our knowledge of the super-sensuous entities. The most important kind of such knowledge is that which we derive from the “heard texts”
(śrutis).
Of the three means of right knowledge in the Yoga system, perception is the
most important. The Yoga S ūtras do not appeal to any śruti, but rather to the
direct experiences of the yogin, i.e., of the person who has achieved the goal of
practicing yoga. This shows the empiricistic trend of the school. It is not surprising that some yoga commentaries recognize different kinds of perception,
including yogic perceptions.
The second vṛtti is “misconception” (viparyaya). It consists in taking something to be what it is not10; it is misconstrual of reality. Taking a rope to be
a snake is an example of wrong knowledge; it is a cognitive error. It includes
doubt as well as uncertain knowledge.
The three additional vṛttis, imagination or vikalpa, sleep or nidrā, and memory or smṛti, are unique to Yoga; other systems of Indian philosophy do not
recognize them as vṛttis.
Imagination or vikalpa is a verbal idea caused by words corresponding to
which there is no real object. In the words of K. C. Bhattacharya, it is “implied in the consciousness of a content that is not real, and is still verbally
meant.”11 Thus, when one thinks of “hare’s horn” or of “a barren woman’s
son,” there is a meant content, which though unreal, is presented to understanding. Yoga philosophy recognizes many such vikalpas or imaginative entities. For example, when one says, “Rahu’s head,” it creates the impression
that there is a distinction between Rahu and his head, whereas the fact of the
matter is that Rahu is only a head. Similarly, the expression “consciousness
belongs to puru ṣa,” implies that there are two separate entities consciousness
and puru ṣa, but, in fact, consciousness and puru ṣa are identical.
In nidrā,12 there is a preponderance of the tamas gu ṇa, and the resulting
cessation of waking and dream experiences. It stands for the absence of any
cognition; however, it is a vṛtti because after waking up a person says, “I slept
soundly and did not know anything.” Thus, “sleep,” in this context, refers to
the deep sleep state. Yoga is unique in regarding sleep to be a vṛtti and comes
close to Advaita Vedānta in this regard. Both agree that in sleep, even in the
deep sleep state, there is consciousness because recollection upon waking up
testifes to its existence.13
The last vṛtti is memory defned as “holding on” or “not slipping away” or
“retention” of the objects of the other four vṛttis.14 K. C. Bhattacharya takes
thinking (cint ā) to be the second level of memory (i.e., the memory of memory)
and contemplation or dhyāna (which is a series of memories) to be the third
level.15 Sam ādhi, at which one arrives as a result of the cessation of vṛttis, is
not a memory, but an intuition of the object. For Yoga, as we will see shortly,
sam ādhi is of various grades.
Puru ṣa, though eternally free, when refected in the citta, becomes a jīva, an
ego, goes through pleasurable and painful experiences, takes himself to be an
agent, enjoyer, etc., and subjects himself to various kinds of affictions, which
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T H E YOGA DA R ŚA NA
are either harmful or opposed to the practice of yoga or not so opposed.16 The
vṛttis that are opposed to the practice of yoga are really made so by the fve defects (kle śas): Ignorance, ego, desire, aversion, and clinging to life.17 Ignorance
or avidyā is the root cause of the fve defects.18 Ignorance results in taking the
pure, blissful, self to be the non-self, which is non-eternal, painful, unclean,
and impure.19 Non-self in this context includes body, mind, all material possessions, which an ignorant person takes to be one’s self.20
Egoism (asmit ā) is the consciousness of the seeming identity of the self and
the buddhi, i.e., of the seer and the instrument of seeing. It is taking the buddhi
or the intellect as the true self.21 In reality, the self is unchanging while intellect is always changing. Raga or attachment arises, holds Patañjali, from the
experience of happiness, i.e., from the memory of past experiences of happiness.22 This memory gives rise to the desire to re-live that experience. In the
same way, aversion arises from the experiences of pain.23
Clinging to life is on account of the fear of death which is common to almost
all living beings; it is found in the ignorant as well as in the wise individuals.
This fear is due to the experience of death in a previous life and for the Yoga
school, it proves the existence of a previous life. The desire assumes the form
“let me be.”24
The continually changing cognitive modes can be restrained by practice
(abhyāsa) and detachment (vairag ya).25 Continuous effort is needed. When these
fve detriments are “burnt,” citta is dissolved into the original prakrti. The vṛttis
of citta, the cognitive modifcations, can be eliminated by meditation. If the
detriments remain, there are cognitive modifcations and there is suffering.
Thus, suffering characterizes existence; the aim of yoga is to get rid of suffering. The Yoga S ūtras closeness to Buddhism is nowhere clearer than on this
point.
III Yoga Ethics
Five Levels of Citta
It should be obvious to the readers that the aim of yoga is to prevent identifcation of puru ṣa with mental modifcations by arresting or suppressing modifcations of the citta. The citta, constituted of the three gu ṇas, i.e., sattva, rajas, and
tamas in different proportions, determines the different levels or conditions
of citta. There are fve levels of citta (cittabh ūmi), viz., k ṣipta or constantly moving, mūdha or fxed on one object and without the freedom to move on to another, vik ṣipta or distracted, ek āgra or one-pointed, and niruddha or restrained.
In the buddhi at any state, there is a fow into the form of self-identity, except
this self-identity is not always explicitly manifest. When it is explicit, there is
sam ādhi.
Yoga philosophy emphasizes practical discipline with an emphasis on meditation, mind control, and repeated practice. The goal is to arrest mental modifcations with an effort that gives rise to different levels of citta.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
At the frst level, i.e., the k ṣipta level, the citta is under the sway of rajas. It is
restless and agitated; it wanders from one object to another without any rest.
The citta focuses on sense objects, and the goal is sense-gratifcation. The citta
jumps from one object to another. We may call it the “wandering” level of citta.
At the second level, i.e., m ūdha level, the effort to control the citta does not
help, because the citta is under the sway of tamas. It is drawn to vices, sleep,
inertia, lack of motivation, and so on. It is not interested in the practice of yoga.
This is the “ignorant” level of citta.
At the third level, i.e., the vik ṣipta level, the citta is not under the infuence of
sattva though it has a touch of rajas in it. This level has the capacity of manifesting all objects, virtues, knowledge, etc., with the ability to concentrate on an
object, though such a concentration is temporary. In other words, the arrest of
mental modifcations and avidyā, etc., is temporary.
This is the “unsteady” level of citta.
At the fourth level, i.e., ek āgra or one-pointed level, the citta is not under the
infuence of sattva; rajas and tamas are subdued. The beginning of the prolonged
concentration characterizes this level. At this level, mental modifcations are
restrained, though only partially.26 This is the “focused” level of citta.
The fourth level is preparatory to the next and the last level, viz., “niruddha,”
where all mental modifcations including the mental concentration that characterizes the ek āgra level cease to exist. In niruddha, citta is calm and peaceful
and returns to its original state. This is the “restrained” level of citta.
The last two levels take one to sam ādhi, the transcending of the fve levels.
These form an integral part of the a ṣṭāṇga yoga (the discipline of “eight-limbed
yoga”); they are conducive to higher awareness.
It is important to remember that the last two stages are conducive to
mok ṣa because both manifest the maximum of the sattva gu ṇa. In the ek āgra
or the one-pointed consciousness, buddhi attains explicit consciousness of selfidentity. The mind focuses on the object of meditation, the meditator and
the object of meditation are fused together—though the consciousness of the
object of meditation persists. In fact, it is samprajñ āta sam ādhi27 or the trance of
meditation because in this state the mind establishes itself permanently in the
object; it has a clear and distinct consciousness of the object and assumes the
form of the object. The niruddha is asamprajñ āta sam ādhi, the culmination of
the process, the yoga in the strict sense.28 The vṛttis are restrained, though
latent impressions persist. It is not easy to attain a state of niruddha. The path
that helps one attain the highest is “asṭāṅga yoga,” which I will discuss next.
The Eight Limbs (A ṣṭāṇga Yoga)
Patañjali’s yoga is eight-limbed (asṭāṅga).29 The a ṅgas or limbs are: (1) yama or
control, (2) niyama or regulation, (3) āsana or bodily posture, (4) prāṇāyāma or
regulation of breath, (5) pratyāhara or withdrawal or removal of the senses,
(6) dh āra ṇā or concentration, (7) dhyāna or meditation and (8) sam ādhi or
absorption.
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T H E YOGA DA R ŚA NA
It is important to underscore the fact that detachment and abhyāsa or practice are the most important components of any yogic practice. Detachment is
freedom from craving—again, a Buddhist-sounding idea—of sensory objects.
One must cultivate detachment from two kinds of objects: The objects seen
in the world and the objects heard about in the scriptures (e.g., pleasure in the
heaven). Patañjali rejects the heavenly worlds promised by the Vedic texts as
rewards of the ritualistic performances. A yogin must have no attachment to
either. Complete detachment is attained when the yogin knows the true nature
of puru ṣa and does not desire anything material, i.e., anything constituted of
the three gu ṇas. The fnal goal is not attained all at once as it is possible to attain prolonged contemplation and relapse back into pain and suffering due to
past tendencies and impressions. The practice of yoga with care and undivided
attention is of the utmost importance.
Vṛttis leave behind sa ṃsk āras that lie dormant in the citta, manifest under
appropriate conditions, generate karmas, and perpetuate the cycle of birth
and death. Once all sa ṃsk āras are destroyed, pure consciousness is revealed;
however, it requires a long and arduous training to attain the cessation of all
the modifcations of the citta and attain the highest. An aspirant in the initial stages of the discipline is required to practice different postures, different
kinds of regulations, e.g., regulations pertaining to breath, which form the
foundation on which to erect an effective practice.
For the purifcation of the citta, Patañjali presents the discipline of A ṣṭāṇga
Yoga or “the Eight Limbs.”
A ṣṭāṇga Yoga (The Eight Limbs)
1 Yama
Restraints of body, mind, and speech
2 Niyama
Regulations pertaining to good conduct
3 Āsana
Bodily postures
4 Prāṇāyāma
Regulation of breath (inhaling and exhaling)
5 Pratyāhara
Detachment of mind from the external world
6 Dh āra ṇā
Concentration of mind on an object (internal or external)
7 Dhyāna
Continued meditation or concentration on an object
8 Sam ādhi
Absorption or self-realization
Yama30 and niyama,31 i.e., the frst two of the eight a ṅgas or limbs, are the
needed preliminaries to any ethical and religious disciplines. The Yoga S ūtras
prescribe fve yamas or ethical rules: (1) Non-injury in thought, deed or speech
(ahi ṃsā or non-violence), (2) truth-telling (satya ṃ), (3) non-stealing (asteya),
(4) celibacy (brahmacarya), and (5) non-possession (aparigraha). Patañjali regards
these fve as “the great vows” that hold good universally at all places, times,
circumstances, and for all classes of humans.32 Of these fve, ahi ṃsā, coming
as it does frst on the list, is the most important. When one is established in
non-violence, he has no enemy and is no one’s enemy. In giving importance
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
to non-violence, the Yoga S ūtras seem to have assimilated the moral doctrine
of Jainism. Although the extreme version of non-violence found in Jainism
does not exist in the Yoga school, killing living beings and consequently meateating is absolutely prohibited for a yogi in the Yoga S ūtras. The remaining four
yamas are geared toward it; for example, truth-telling signifes telling the truth
that is useful to others as well as practice truth-telling in speech and deeds.
The practice of these restraints not only prevents the arising of karmas but also
contributes to the development of positive sa ṃsk āras.
Whereas the yamas are restraints, the niyamas are positive and refer to
places, times, and classes. They prescribe the cultivation of good habits.
The niyamas are also fve in number: Sauca or cleanliness (both natural and
spiritual), purifcation of the body by washing it, and purifcation of the
mind involved in cultivating such positive thoughts and emotions as friendliness, kindness, etc.; santo ṣa or contentment (being content with what one
has without too much trouble), tapas or asceticism (enduring cold and heat),
sv ādhyāya or the study of religious scriptures (the study of religious books with
uniform regularity), and Īśvara-pra ṇidh āna or contemplation of and surrender
to Īśvara (God).
The difference between the two practices, yama and niyama, i.e., between morality and religious practice, may be stated in the words of K. C. Bhattacharya
thus: “Morality is universal as the negative externality of spirituality, religious
practice is its positive particularity and internality, while super-religious yoga
is its transcendent individual reality.”33
The next three steps constitute a process of spiritualizing the body. The
disciples of ethical and religious practice have already prepared the ground
and now the body so trained must be subjected to a direct spiritualization.
One begins with āsana, the right posture, which is rather a spiritual pose of the
body, “steady and pleasant” to be achieved by relaxation and by absorption in
the infnite. Āsana spontaneously leads to the regulation of breath freely in accordance with the cosmic rhythm. There are many kinds of āsanas and these
āsanas effectively keep the body free from all sorts of diseases, thereby keeping
under check the factors that disturb citta and make it restless. Prescriptions
regarding the body are important because they secure the health of the body
and make it ft for prolonged concentration.34
Prāṇāyāma35 means breath regulation regarding the inhalation and exhalation. Here, the Yoga S ūtras prescribe suspension of breathing either after inhalation or before exhalation or retention of the breath for as long as one can
hold it. It must be practiced under the guidance of a person who has expertise
in it. Such exercises strengthen the heart and help one control his mind insofar as it is conducive to the steadiness of the body and mind. The longer the
suspension of breath, the longer would be the state of concentration.
The goal of pratyāhara36 is to cut the mind off from the external world. When
sense organs are effectively controlled by the mind, then it is not disturbed by
sounds, sights, etc. This state, though not impossible, is very diffcult to attain;
it requires a resolute will and constant practice.
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T H E YOGA DA R ŚA NA
Now that the body is refned and spiritualized, the next three steps in the
practice of yoga, which are constitutive of yoga proper, follow. Whereas the frst
fve limbs are external in the sense that they are merely preparatory to the
discipline of yoga, the last three are internal in the sense that they are constitutive of yoga. The last three—dh āra ṇā, dhyāna, and sam ādhi—involve “bodiless
willing,” or rather spiritual willing. These three, when performed together,
are known as “sa ṃyama”; they lead to insight.37
The sixth and the seventh, i.e., dh āra ṇā and dhyāna, are preparatory to the
eighth, i.e., sam ādhi. In dh āra ṇā, one fxes the mind on a real position in space.
An imagined object is placed in a position in space and is willingly visualized
as being there. It is crucial to developing the ability to keep one’s attention
fxed on one specifc object because it is the test of the ftness of the mind and
signals that one is ready to enter the next higher stage, dhyāna, which is the
contemplation of the object without any disturbance. The sense of remembering becomes an uninterrupted stream of willing and imagining. This series
merges into an effortless sam ādhi, subjectivity completely withdraws itself so that
the object alone shines. In the words of Yoga S ūtras, “sam ādhi occurs when the
dhyāna shines as the object alone, and the mind is devoid of its own subjectivity.”38 The mind does not wander around any longer; it becomes one-pointed
or ek āgra.
Sam ādhi or concentration is the fnal step in the practice of yoga. In sam ādhi,
all mental modifcations cease and there is no association with the external
world; they become one. The Yoga school here makes a distinction between
two kinds of sam ādhis: Samprajñ āta sam ādhi and asamprajñ āta sam ādhi. In samprajñ āta sam ādhi, the consciousness of the object is there; in asamprajñ āta sam ādhi,
it is transcended.
In samprajñ āta sam ādhi, the consciousness of puru ṣa fows through the natural
mind; it has an objective support to focus upon. This sam ādhi has two substages: Savitarka and savich āra. In savitarka, citta’s focus is on a gross material
object, e.g., the image of a deity, etc. In savich āra the gross object is replaced
by its subtle equivalent, e.g., the tanm ātras. “Subtle” means “what is not perceptible by the senses.” To put it differently, in savitarka, the presented object
predominates; in savich āra, the act of presentation predominates. In savitarka,
the body comes to the forefront and the mind is fnitized; in savich āra the body
drops out from consciousness and the act of apprehension becomes the focus,
the pure self is grasped, there being no object. This self-knowledge gives rise
to two additional forms of sam ādhi: S ānanda sam ādhi and sāsmit ā sam ādhi. In the
former, there is the absorption in the sheer bliss of self-knowledge, and in the
latter, the mere “I” awareness, the pure subject, rather than the subjective act,
becomes the exclusive focus.
Irrespective of how one classifes the four stages of samprajñ āta sam ādhi, the
point that Yoga is trying to make is as follows: Samprajñ āta sam ādhi is ek āgra;
in it, the focus is on the object of meditation and the object of meditation
and meditation are fused, though the consciousness of the object remains.
Asamprajñ āta sam ādhi is niruddha, and there is no consciousness of the object.
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All mental modifcations cease to exist, and the self realizes its own essence as
pure consciousness. One attains mok ṣa, the state of freedom from all suffering.
Before concluding this section, I will make a few remarks about the bodymind relationship and the ordering of sam ādhis in the Yoga school.
One wonders: What is the relation between body and mind in yoga? Yogic
practice, to a large measure—both externally and internally—is bodily, physiological, breathing. This practice is supposed to have a wholesome infuence
on the mind. Likewise, the mental practice of abhyāsa, vairāg ya, and dhyāna, is
supposed to bring the body under the control of the mind; they mutually infuence each other. Given that both body and mind are the products of prak ṛti
and are products of the varying proportions of the three gu ṇas—one can say
that both are “natural,” and that neither is spiritual. To be “natural” is not to
be construed as being “material.”39 Sāṁ khya and Yoga, which share a common metaphysics, are to be sure, not purely “materialistic.” Both may be said to
be “naturalistic”; however, in both, prak ṛti is meant for the purpose of puru ṣa.
Thus, in both, prak ṛti is ordered to serve the interests of puru ṣa.
It would, therefore, be wrong to ascribe to yoga a mind-body identity theory. In prak ṛti, as in the body, there is a preponderance of the rajas and tamas,
though sattva is not entirely lacking. In mind or buddhi, sattva predominates,
thereby making it possible for the buddhi to know and to will or not to will,
thereby making yogic practice possible. Thus, the body is “spiritualized”
through cleanliness, āsana or posture, prāṇāyāma or breath control, and pratyāh āra or merging of the sense organs in the mind. Likewise, through the
purely mental operation of dhyāna, the body is freed from the rajas and the
tamas gu ṇas, it becomes shining and lustrous. Both make pure knowledge possible through the buddhi’s perfection. To sum up: The relationship between
body and mind is complex; they cooperate and mutually infuence each other.
IV Īśvara or God
The Sāṁ khya, as is well known, has no place for Īśvara in its metaphysics.
The world has no creator; it evolves spontaneously from prak ṛti, and, from a
teleological perspective geared to the purposes of the puru ṣa. The Yoga school,
on the other hand, accepts the existence of God on both the theoretical and
practical grounds. It provides two arguments to prove the existence of God:
(1) The Vedas and the Upaniṣads declare that there is a God, a supreme self.
So, God exists because the foundational texts testify to its existence. (2) The
law of continuity talks about the degrees, a lower limit, and the upper limit
of things that we see in the world. Likewise, there are degrees of power and
knowledge. Thus, there must be a being who possesses perfect power and
knowledge, and that being is God.
The Yoga S ūtras, however, introduce Īśvara in the context of the discussion
of the practice of yoga. There are, to my knowledge, at least four contexts in
which Īśvara appears. Devotion to Īśvara is an alternate route to sam ādhi.40
Commentators construe it as devotion to Īśvara is the best and the quickest way
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to attain sam ādhi. The nature of Īśvara is explained as follows: He is a special
puru ṣa, uncontaminated by the detriments to the practice of yoga, karma, the
fruition of the karma, and by the sa ṁsk āras, or dispositions left by the karmas.41
The Yoga S ūtras also assert that Īśvara’s omniscience is unsurpassed.42 Much
controversy surrounds the sense in which there are degrees of omniscience.
The Yoga S ūtras argue that Īśvara is the teacher of the earlier generations and
that he is not limited by time.43 The former statement means that he is the
teacher of all teachers; the latter, that time belonging as it does to prak ṛti does
not limit his being through devotion to him. The yogi comes to know his own
true self or puru ṣa. Some of these themes are repeated in other chapters as well.
The above makes it obvious that Patañjali accepts the existence of God,
though his interest in God is only practical. From the theoretical-metaphysical
perspective, he abides by the Sāṁ khya doctrines. He does not regard Īśvara as
the creator of the universe; God is only a special kind of puru ṣa. God is the
model of the highest perfection and knowledge. He is a perfect being, allpervading, omnipotent, omniscient, free from all defects. He does not bestow
rewards or punishments and has nothing to do with the bondage and liberation of individual souls. The goal of human life is not union with God but
rather the separation of prak ṛti from puru ṣa.
V Concluding Remarks
It should be clear that the practice of yoga is an active process of willing.
Spiritual activity, in this system, construed as willing, is the goal if one wishes
to attain freedom. The will, however, is the “will to not will,” i.e., the will
to nivṛtti, not to pravṛtti.44 In Sāṁ khya, the willing is a process of knowing,
while in the Yoga system, it is a process of willing to free oneself from the
natural will to pleasure or enjoyment. Here we see an interesting difference
between Yoga and Vedānta and Vaiṣnava theism. Vedānta, especially Advaita
Vedānta, aims at knowledge, and Vaiṣnavism understands spiritual life as one
of feeling; Yoga focuses on a life of willing not to will.
One is struck by the Yoga S ūtras similarity with the Buddhist teachings. The
Yoga S ūtras emphasize that worldly existence, especially existence in the body,
is characterized by suffering, which is an important feature of Indian philosophies, especially of Buddhism. Yoga S ūtras categorically affrm that life is
permeated by suffering,45 which includes the arising of pain when the pleasure passes away. The cause of suffering is also explained: The seer and that
which is seen, i.e., the spirit and the material objects, are confused with one
another.46 More specifcally, buddhi, a product of prak ṛti, is confused with puru ṣa. The knowable objects are constituted of the three gu ṇas and exist for the
sake of puru ṣa’s purpose. Puru ṣa is the seer; it is pure consciousness. Suffering
is overcome when the union of the buddhi and prak ṛti is dissolved, and puru ṣa is
seen for what it is. Yoga, of course, is the means to accomplish this. Ignorance
or avidyā is the cause of the seeming union of the puru ṣa and prak ṛti. This avidyā
is destroyed by the true knowledge of the distinction between the two.47
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
But there is an important point of difference between the two: For the
Buddha, a self is a union of fve impermanent skandhas; there is no substantial
self; Yoga takes the unchanging eternal self to be changing natural processes.
Patañjali’s main criticism of Buddhism concerns the doctrine of momentariness (k ṣanikavāda). Patañjali defends a realism regarding the existence of
external objects in the world; they are not mental constructions.48 Like the
Sarvā stivādins, he asserts that the past and the future exist in reality, the object and the mind are different,49 and the object is dependent neither on a
single mind nor on many minds. What is self-luminous is not the mind; the
mind is only an object. Only puru ṣa is self-illuminating.
In view of the contemporary interest in the relation of yoga to Edmund
Husserl’s thinking, I will highlight a few relevant points. First, both phenomenology and yoga seek to be descriptive sciences of experiences of different
levels and types. Both avoid philosophy in the sense of system-building by
speculative arguments. This alone creates the presumption that the two must
be alike in many important respects; however, it must be noted that phenomenology restricts itself to perceptual and scientifc experiences, besides moral,
aesthetic, and social; the Yoga school, however, goes beyond these and ascends to supernormal experiences.
The central concern of phenomenology is the internal structure of experience. Ordinarily, this structure is construed as consciousness’ directedness to
an object outside of it. But phenomenology brackets the object outside of consciousness, and consequently, is left with the object as belonging to the internal
structure, i.e., the “meaning” or the “noema” of the experience. The method
of epoch ē thus makes it possible for phenomenology to study descriptively the
internal structure of all experiences. Yoga’s attitude towards intentionality is
quite different; its goal is to restrain the outward movement of mental modifcations. Intentionality is thereby progressively conquered, and the self as
pure consciousness comes to the forefront. In this respect, Yoga and Vedānta
schools differ from phenomenology. They begin with empirical consciousness,
and through a series of moves aim at reaching pure non-intentional consciousness. These systems of Indian philosophy do not take intentionality to be the
defning feature of consciousness, which is self-luminous. What Yoga proceeds
to decipher by the method of refective focusing, phenomenology proceeds to
bring to light by the method of epoch ē.
The yoga of Patañjali does not deny the world; its goal is to restrain the
movement of the mental states toward the world. Phenomenology does the
same thing by a method of refection and epoch ē. The yogin exclusively focuses
upon an object, shutting off all other objects from its view. This is very close
to the method of epoch ē; it is attained by a voluntary move. The phenomenologist, as is well known, proceeds through a series of epoch ē, the psychological,
the phenomenological, and the transcendental, the last being the primary. A
yogin goes through different stages of sam ādhi; he initially focuses on the gross
object, then on the subtle constituents of that object, its essential structures,
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leading to the focusing on the act of consciousness and the pure subject to the
complete exclusion of any object, and fnally, on the pure non-objective selfluminosity of consciousness and reaching omniscience in the end.
Another central theme of the Yoga school—which is of phenomenological
signifcance—is the gradual spiritualization of the body, beginning with the
appropriately relaxed and effortless posture and breath-control up until one
reaches the complete indistinguishability of bodily and pure buddhi’s subjectivity.
The body, initially perceived as sinful and dirty, becomes an effective means of
willing not to will with cleansing, contentment, and ethical-religious practices.
Phenomenology continues to focus on meanings (noemata), ideal contents
of experience; Yoga, on the other hand, at some point in its progressive journey totally overcomes all verbal reference and meaning, language drops out,
making it possible for the self-luminous consciousness to recede behind the
object so that the epistemic gap between the object in itself and the perceived
content, i.e., the perspectival character of perception is overcome. The object
stands luminously in its totality, refected as it is in consciousness. Phenomenology has no inkling of this grasp of the total object and the consequent
omniscience. Descriptive phenomenology becomes, in the Yoga school, a
transformative phenomenology.
The long, almost immemorial, practice of yoga, independent of and prior
to the philosophical systems, has resulted in the concepts, possibilities, and
achievements of yoga practice being sedimented in the Indian life-world so
that not so much faith as recalling the possibilities actualized in the past that
looms large before the Indian mind. Philosophy has tried to systematize the
experiences whose memory is preserved in śrutis, epics, and poetry. Yoga has
become a part of the Indian psyche. Also, every philosophical darśana with
the exception of C ārvā ka has accepted the possibility of yoga in some form or
the other. However, there is always room for further critical examination of
actual achievements coupled with the hopes for the possibilities that always lie
in such expectations.
Study Questions
1. Explain the meaning of “yoga.” Discuss Patañjali’s defnition of “yoga” as
“cittavṛttinirodha.”
2. What is a vṛtti (mental modifcation)? Explain the fve mental modifcations (cittavṛttis) elaborated in Patañjali’s Yoga S ūtras.
3. Critically discuss the fve affictions (kle śas) that are opposed to the practice of yoga.
4. Explain the fve levels of citta (cittabh ūmis) and the role the three gu ṇas play
in these levels.
5. Elaborate on the eight limbs (a ṣṭāṇga) of Patañjali’s yoga. Do you agree
with Patañjali’s yoga techniques for overcoming ignorance and attaining
enlightenment? Argue for your position.
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6. Discuss the status of God in the Yoga school. Patañjali does not regard
Īśvara as the creator of the universe; God is only a special kind of puru ṣa.
Do you fnd this conception plausible? Give reasons for your answer.
7. Explain the Yoga concept of “citta.” How does it differ from the Buddhist
concept of “citta”? Discuss some of the similarities and differences between the Yoga and the Buddhist philosophies. Which makes more sense
to you, and why?
8. Comment on the following: “What Yoga proceeds to decipher by the
method of refective focusing, phenomenology proceeds to bring to light
by the method of epoch ē.” Do you agree that in the Yoga school, descriptive phenomenology becomes a transformative phenomenology? Argue pro
or con.
Suggested Readings
For an excellent introduction, insightful translation, and commentary based
on original sources, see Edwin F. Bryant, The Yoga S ūtras of Patañjali: A New
Edition (New York: North Point Press, 2009); Gerald James Larson and
Ram Shankar Bhattacarya (eds.), The Encyclopaedia of Indian Philosophies:
Yoga: India’s Philosophy of Meditation (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 2011), to
date, is the most comprehensive work on this school; it not only includes historical development, summaries of major texts and thinkers of the school,
but also an analysis of the important concepts, and conceptual distinctions;
and G. Feuerstein, The Philosophy of Classical Yoga (New York: St. Martin’s
Press, 1980) details key concepts of Yoga S ūtras and his The Yoga Tradition:
Its History, Literature, Philosophy and Practice (Prescott, AZ: Hohm Press 1998)
provides a thorough overview of the history, philosophy, and practice the
Yoga school. It also includes translations of twenty Yoga works.
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11
THE VA I Ś E Ṣ IK A DAR Ś A NA
I Introduction
The origin of the Vaiśeṣika school is uncertain; it is a very ancient school, most
probably pre-Buddhist. Ka ṇā da or Ulū ka systematized the Vai śe ṣikas ūtras
(VS), the only extant ancient text, which ante-dates most of the extant
s ūtras.1 VS is the frst systematic work of this school. Not much is known
about Ka ṇā da, and it is diffcult to ascertain with certainty when exactly
he compiled it. The date of the VS ranges from somewhere between 200
BCE to the beginning of the CE, though it is very likely that some of the
Vai śeṣika doctrines were formulated much earlier. Other important works of
this school are Udayana’s Kira ṇāval ī and Lak ṣa ṇāval ī, and Vallabhā chā ry ā’s
Nyāya L īl āvat ī. Pra śastapā da’s Pad ārthadharmasa ṅgraha provides an excellent
exposition of the Vai śeṣika philosophy. The system embodies a naturalism
which, since the beginnings of Indian thought, has opposed the mainstream
non-naturalistic component of Indian thought. The school owes its name
to recognizing the category of vi śe ṣa (particularity) as a necessary feature
to account for the particulars of the world, e.g., atoms and souls, which are
eternal. It accounts for and preserves “particularity,” despite recognizing
many individuals. The objects which we experience in our everyday lives
have parts and are non-eternal.
As stated earlier, in the Indian thought one fnds two naturalistic theories
of the origin of the empirical world. On one view, the world is a product of the
ordered evolution from an original undifferentiated prak ṛti, the one becoming
many, while on another, the world arises out of the atoms combining together
in various ways which, in a limited sense, is many becoming the one. The
Sāṁ khya represents the frst view and the Vaiśeṣika the second. Both schools,
besides their naturalistic proclivities, propound a theory of the irreducibility
of the self, argue for the plurality of selves, and recognize karma-rebirth-mok ṣa
(kaivalya in Sāṁ khya).
Vaiśeṣika represents a system of realism: It asserts the reality of objects independently of our perception of it. The Vaiśeṣika’s primary concern is ontology; it focuses on the enumeration of the ultimate constituents of the universe
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
and subordinates epistemology or the theory of knowledge and logic to ontology. It is pluralistic; in ontology, it reduces all things in the world or beyond
to a minimum, i.e., to further irreducible kinds. On the Vaiśeṣika theory, the
world in all its variety and complexity is constituted out of these irreducible
entities. In this sense, it represents a grand intellectual adventure of ancient
Indian mind. It is not surprising thus that the ideas of the Vaiśeṣika remain
the basis of the Hindu physical sciences,2 just as the Sāṁ khya remains the
basis of the Hindu medical science.
The Vaiśeṣika and the Ny āya together form a conjoint system called
“Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika.” Both subscribe to the view that the goal of human life
is enlightenment, absolute cessation of pain and suffering. Both systems,
however, differ on the number of the pram āṇas they accept; whereas the
Nyāya accepts perception, inference, comparison, and verbal testimony,
the Vaiśeṣika recognizes only two: Perception and inference. Again, whereas
the Ny āya accepts sixteen categories ( pad ārthas), the Vai śeṣika recognizes
only seven. The Nyāya takes over the Vaiśeṣika ontology and defends it from
the opponent’s attacks using the canons of logical reasoning. I will discuss
the pram āṇas, the conceptions of the self, bondage, and liberation, in the
chapter on Nyāya and primarily focus on the ontological categories, i.e.,
pad ārthas, in this chapter.
Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
The Vaiśeṣika divides the ultimate constituents of the universe into
seven categories (pad ārthas): Dravya (substance), gu ṇa (quality), karma
(action), sām ānya (universal), vi śe ṣa (particularity), samavāya (inherence), and abh āva (negation).
There are nine substances: Earth, water, fre, air, ether, time, space,
soul, and manas (mind). First fve are material, and the last four are
immaterial.
Simple and eternal atoms constitute the fundamental structure of
universe.
There are twenty-four gu ṇas. These are color, taste, smell, touch,
sound, number, size or magnitude, distinctness, conjunction, disjunction, remoteness, nearness, cognition, pleasure, pain, desire,
hatred, effort, heaviness, fuidity, viscosity, dispositions, dharma,
and adharma.
Souls are eternal.
Perception and inference are the only two pram āṇas.
The goal of human life is mok ṣa, which is absolute cessation of pain
and suffering.
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T H E VA I Ś E Ṣ I K A D A R Ś A N A
II The Pad ārthas (Categories)
Pad ārthas are “categories” of the Vaiśeṣika school. Etymologically, “pad ārtha”
means “the meaning or the referent” (artha) of words (pada). So, by “pad ārtha,”
the Vaiśeṣika means “all reals” or “all objects that belong to the world.” It
is an object that can be thought of as well as named.3 If this etymology is
scrupulously followed, then it would imply that any meaning of a word is a
pad ārtha which however is not the case. The word “pitcher” signifes a pitcher,
but a “pitcher” is not a pad ārtha. Likewise, “red” means “the color red,” but
red is not a pad ārtha; it is a quality. In the context of metaphysics, a “pad ārtha”
signifes the general class under which referents of words fall, a class that is not
included in any other class. Pad ārthas are the highest genera of entities.
One generally compares the Vaiśeṣika categories to the categories of
Aristotle and Kant. Whereas Aristotle’s list is a haphazard group of very general predicates of things, the Kantian list is systematic; it is drawn from the
logical forms of judgment and traced to the forms of the faculty of “understanding,” and so is subjective in origin. The origin of the Vaiśeṣika list is not
known. There is no principled deduction, though later commentators defend
the list by critiquing it, suggesting additions and subtractions to demonstrate
that the list is almost complete.
All objects that the words denote are of two kinds: Bh āva and abh āva, being
and non-being respectively. Being includes all positive realities, e.g., physical
objects, minds, souls, etc., and non-being includes non-existence. There are
six kinds of positive realities and one negative pad ārtha. Thus, the Vaiśeṣika
list (which appears to have evolved slowly) has seven categories: (1) Dravya (substance), (2) gu ṇa (quality), (3) karma (action), (4) sām ānya (universal), (5) vi śe ṣa
(particularity), (6) samavāya (inherence), and (7) abh āva (negation).4 These seven
categories will be the primary focus of this chapter.
Dravya (Substance)
“Dravya” is usually translated as “substance.” But this translation does
not quite capture the meaning of “dravya” of the Vai śeṣika school. The
Aristotelian or the Kantian “substance” has the sense of permanence amid
changes; the Vai śeṣika dravya cannot be so construed. Defnitionally, it is
the locus of qualities and actions (i.e., of the next two pad ārthas). A gu ṇa or
quality and an action can only be in a dravya. A quality does not foat around
by itself. Any quality, say, “red,” proximately resides, e.g., in a red fower.
A dravya is the locus (āśraya) not only of qualities but also of actions. 5 Such
universal entities as “redness” reside in red, and the latter in a red object.
In fact, either proximately or mediately all entities belonging to all different
categories mentioned above reside in a dravya. Thus, in the Vaiseṣika ontology,
dravya occupies a prominent place.
The recognition of its primacy captures our naive realistic intuitions that
things in the world have an important place in our picture of the world. It
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also captures an important feature of the Sanskrit as well as of the IndoEuropean languages that nouns occupy a prominent place in a sentence.6 In
the Sanskrit sentence, “aya ṃ ghataḥ” (“this is a pitcher”), a substance is in the
predicate place. Besides, a Sanskrit sentence does not always conform to the
subject-predicate pattern. Again, it is worth remembering that Aristotelian,
Kantian, and Lockean, notions of substance as a permanent substratum underlying changes do not exist in the Vaiśeṣika school. For these reasons, it seems
more advisable to render “dravya” simply as “thing,” the German word “Ding.”
Of all the categories, dravya is the most important, for there is a sense in
which the remaining categories—or, rather, the instances of all of them—can
only be in a “dravya.” Anticipating our exposition of the other categories, we
can say, such entities as a quality, an action, a universal, the relation of inherence, particularity, and a negation (or absence) can have their being only
in a thing. Let me give an example. Consider a thing like a brown pitcher
I see before me: Given that the pitcher is brown, it has the quality brown;
when the pitcher moves, it becomes the locus of an action; it is the locus of the
universal “pitcherness”; a universal is common to all instances of a particular
class, and it is the particularity of the individual instance of the universal that
differentiates one pitcher from other pitchers; the brown color that inheres in
the pitcher instantiates the universal “brownness”; and it is also the locus of
negation or absence as in “the pitcher is not a glass.” Thus, the entire set of
Vaiśeṣika categories may be regarded as an elaborate ontological analysis
of the thing we are familiar with: In this case, a “pitcher.”
Everything in the world is reducible to nine dravyas or things, viz., earth,
water, fre, air, ether, space, time, soul, and manas (mind).7 The frst fve are
material, and the last four non-material substances; atoms of these nine substances are eternal. Each of the frst fve substances possesses a unique quality,
which makes the substance what it is.8 Smell is the unique quality of earth,
taste of water, color of fre, touch of air, and sound of ether. To say that each
of these substances possesses a unique quality does not amount to saying that
it does not possess other qualities, but rather that the unique quality of a substance is what distinguishes it from other substances.
The frst four are knowable by outer perception. The substances of earth,
water, fre, and air are eternal and non-eternal. The atoms of these four substances are partless and eternal. As partless, they are neither produced nor destroyed. All other objects made by the combination of atoms are non-eternal;
they are subject to origination as well as destruction. Earth, water, fre, and
air atoms combine to form composite objects; at frst, two atoms combine to
form a dyad, a combination of three is a “triad,” etc. In this evolutionary process, there is no talk of the frst creation of the world, because the process of
creation and destruction of the world is beginningless. Destruction precedes
each creation, and creation follows each destruction. Atoms lack motion, and
the will of God imparts motion to atoms.
It is obvious that the Vaiśeṣika atomism is different from the Greek atomism on several key points; here, I will note only two. First, the Vaiśeṣika
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atoms differ in both quantity and quality, whereas the Greek atoms differ
only in quantity; they are devoid of qualities. So, they are qualitatively alike,
but distinct quantitatively and numerically. According to Leucippus and
Democritus, there are an infnite number of indivisible units called “atoms.”
These atoms are imperceptible; they differ in size and shape, but have no
quality save those of solidity and impenetrability. Consequently, observed differences in the qualities of objects are due to the differences in the number
and confguration of their constituent atoms. Second, whereas the Vaiśeṣika
atoms lack motion and need an agent to set them in motion, the Greek atoms
do not need an agent to set them in motion. The Greek atoms exist in a state
of constant motion. Greek atomism by making motion inherent in atoms seeks
to explain the evolution of the world in purely mechanical terms.
The ffth substance is ether. It is the substratum of the quality of sound. It
is one, because there is no difference in its distinguishing mark, i.e., sound.9
Ether, having the largest dimension, is all pervasive and indivisible. 10 It is
non-perceptible; we infer the existence of ether from the perception of the
quality of sound. Ether is the medium through which sounds travel and reach
the senses.
Space and time, like ether and atoms, are imperceptible, eternal, and
all-pervading substances;11 we infer the existence of space and time. We infer
the existence of space from our cognitions of locations, directions, “there,”
“here,” “east,” “west” etc.; we infer time from our cognitions of temporal
modes: The past, the present, and the future. Space and time are partless and
indivisible; however, we speak of them as having parts and divisions.12
The eighth dravya, namely, soul, is the “substratum of knowledge.”13 It is
an eternal, all-pervading, conscious substance, but consciousness is not an
essential quality of the soul. It acquires consciousness when it associates with a
body. There are two kinds of souls: The individual soul and the supreme soul.
Whereas the individual souls, being different in different bodies, are many,
the supreme soul (God) is one; it is the creator of the world. The existence of
the supreme soul as the creator of the world is known by inference. Individual
souls are known by internal perceptions. Such statements as “I am happy,”
“I am sad” testify to the existence of individual souls. The “I” directly refers
to my soul, and what is being perceived is not the pure soul, but the soul as
qualifed by the quality of happiness or pain.14 If a thing is not perceived, it is
because all the conditions of its perception are not satisfed. Even very small
things, e.g., atoms, though not perceivable by us, are objects of a special perception to a yogi in yogaja pratyak ṣa.15
The fnal dravya is “manas” without which nothing would be known. Manas,
the inner sense, is unperceivable, being atomic in size. Our experiences testify
to the existence of the mind. In deep sleep, the manas is not in contact with
the sense organ and the sense organs are not in contact with the object; as a
result, we do not perceive anything, which demonstrates that the active attention of some sense organ is necessary for a cognition to arise. Manas is atomic,
partless, and eternal.16
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
The Vaiśeṣika argues that if the manas were not of an atomic size, there
would be simultaneous contact of its different parts with many senses leading
to many different perceptions at the same time, which, however, is not the
case. It is through the manas that we directly perceive internal objects, e.g.,
cognitions, pleasure, pain, etc. Manas is also involved in the perception of external objects. For example, the contact of the sense organs with the object is
a necessary but not a suffcient condition to produce a perceptual cognition; a
contact between the manas and the sense organ is required. So, manas cannot
directly perceive external objects; it acts as a link between external objects
and the self.17
It is important to note that many Indian schools, e.g., the Buddhists and the
Sāṁ khya, do not accord primary ontological status to “dravya.” They reject
things as a conglomeration of qualities, and then move on to regard each
quality as a constantly changing process. For Vaiśeṣika, such a position runs
contrary to our everyday realistic intuitions. To perceive a quality is to perceive it as belonging to a thing. One never simply sees a color, but always sees
a colored thing. The dravya therefore, according to Vaiśeṣika, is not a Lockean
unperceived substratum nor unperceivable “I know not what,” but something
we perceive along with its qualities.
The Vaiśeṣika claims this list to be complete, and, by way of disputations
with other schools that add to or subtract from the list, undertakes to defend
this list. The great medieval Naiyāyika Raghunāth Śiroma ṇī, for example,
reduced the three, viz., ether, space, and time, to God’s nature. He also did
not regard manas to be a separate dravya—thereby reducing all dravyas to fve.
It is worth noting that with this classifcation of dravya into nine, we are moving away from the ontological and coming a step, as it were, closer to the
ontic discourse (using Heidegger’s terminology). While this sub-classifcatory
scheme is ambiguously perched between the ontological scheme of the seven categories and
the innumerable things of the world, the task of philosophy is to connect the two.
No Western philosopher (including Aristotle and Kant) has provided such a
sub-classifcation.
Guṇa (Quality)
The Vaiśeṣikas consider the “gu ṇas” to be qualities, which do not exist independently of a substance in which they inhere. Qualities can be conceived,
thought, and named. They are static, non-eternal, and cannot exist by themselves. Additionally, they are not simply things; they are always qualifed as
being such and such. Yet the two, dravyas and gu ṇas, though inseparable, are
ontologically different. The thesis—that a thing and its qualities being inseparable must be non-different—is rejected on the basis that (a) the color of a
pitcher resides in the pitcher, while the pitcher has its being in its constituent
parts each of which does not have that color, and (b) if we take them to be
non-different, then it would give rise to such statements as “this color is a
pitcher,” which is absurd.
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Since, on the Vaiśeṣika theory, qualities reside in a substance, by defnition,
a quality cannot itself possess another quality. What qualifes, and so belongs
to this piece of paper, in “this paper is red” is red, but not redness. A quality
belongs to a substance. There is no universal gu ṇa (gu ṇaness), nor a universal
substance (substanceness). A gu ṇa cannot move from one place to another, a
substance can and does, which explains why a knowledge, being a gu ṇa of
the self, is not an action. It also does not have parts, though produced by the
causes. A substance alone has parts. A quality, then, we can say, in itself is
qualityless (nirgu ṇa), actionless (ni ṣkriya), and partless (niravayava). But qualities
belong to partless substances, e.g., self. It is worth remembering here that in
the Vaiśeṣika system, substances and qualities are ontologically different entities. Unlike substances, qualities are always dependent; they are in substances.
An action and a quality are two different aspects of a substance—the former
its changing aspects and the latter its unchanging aspects.18
Ka ṇāda lists twenty-four gu ṇas. These are (1) color, (2) taste, (3) smell,
(4) touch, (5) sound, (6) number, (7) size or magnitude, (8) distinctness,
(9) conjunction, (10) disjunction, (11) remoteness, (12) nearness, (13) cognition,
(14) pleasure, (15) pain, (16) desire, (17) hatred, (18) effort, (19) heaviness,
(20) fuidity, (21) viscosity, (22) dispositions, (23) dharma, and (24) adharma.19
In this list of qualities, some are important than others: Such qualities of the
self as pleasure, pain, desire, hatred, effort, dharma, adharma, and dispositions
(sa ṃsk āra) are more important than the others. I will detail these little later. I
will begin with brief remarks about the nature of twenty-four qualities.
In the list of twenty-four qualities, 20 some belong to material substances,
some others to immaterial substances, and still others to both material and
immaterial substances, which provides a rationale for the list of twenty-four.
For example, color, taste, smell, touch, and fuidity reside in material substances; cognition, pleasure, pain, desire, hatred, and dispositions reside only
in non-material substances; and number, size or magnitude, distinctness, conjunction, disjunction, heaviness, fuidity and viscosity reside in both material
and non-material substances. Again, some qualities are cognized by one outer
sense, e.g., color, taste, smell, touch, and sound; some are cognized by two
senses (the visual and the tactual), e.g., number, size or magnitude, distinctness, conjunction, disjunction, remoteness, nearness, fuidity, and viscosity.
An important Vaiśeṣika doctrine is that number is a quality of substances.
All things whatsoever can be counted. It is defned as the uncommon cause of
“counting.” Number really inheres in, or belongs to, more than one thing held
together by a special act of mind—thus, to a collection or a set. Since number
is a gu ṇa of substances, and since a gu ṇa cannot belong to other gu ṇas, number
does not belong to qualities. Such modern logicians as Raghunātha Śiroma ṇ i
reject this thesis on the ground that one can also count three qualities, so
number can belong to qualities as well. It is also worth noting that since number belongs to collections or sets, and since mathematicians of that time did
not have the idea of a unit set, the Vaiśeṣikas regard numbers to begin with
the number “two”; the “one” was not a number.
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Parim āṇa, translated variously as “quantity,” “size,” “magnitude,” etc., is
either atomic or large, either short or long, and either eternal or non-eternal.
Non-eternal size is due to either number, or the size of component parts, or
decay.21
P ṛthaktva or distinctness (separateness) is the cause of determinations like
“this is different from that.”22 The judgment “a jar is not a glass” is about
the mutual difference of the two, but the judgment “this is other than that” is
about their being separate. One could say this is a distinction without difference.
An important gu ṇa is conjunction or contact (sa ṃyoga) when two things
which were not in contact come into contact (such as my two palms when they
are made to touch each other), and a contact arises between them.23 Anna ṃbhaṭṭ a defnes sa ṃyoga as a contact between two things that were initially apart.
Accordingly, no contact exists between entities that are all-pervasive and have
never been apart from each other.24 It is important to remember that the
system admits only one genuine relation i.e., inherence or samavāya, listed as
an additional category. The opposite of contact is disjunction or separation
(vibh āga). Two conjoined things may be separated, such as when my two palms
held in contact are made separate.25
Otherness (and its opposite) denotes farness (and nearness), both in space
and in time.26 So, they can be translated as well into “remoteness” (and “nearness”). When construed temporally, they signify earlier and later.27
Heaviness (gurutva) is defned as the special cause of “falling down.” It exists
in two substances viz., in the earth and water, and belongs to the whole as well
as to the parts. It is the cause of the falling of bodies. Fluidity or dravyatva is
self-explanatory; it is the cause of the fowing, for example, of water, milk, and
so on. Heaviness and fuidity are perceptible by two sense organs.28
Viscosity exclusively belongs to water; it is the cause of the different particles
of matter sticking together to form the shape of a lump or a ball. Farness, nearness, heaviness, fuidity, and viscosity are generic qualities, to name only a few.29
I will now turn my attention to the qualities of the self.
Pleasure (sukha) and pain (dukkha) arise in the self because of knowledge—
specifcally, on account of the contact between the self, sense organs, objects,
and the mind (manas). Pleasure and pain are two different qualities of the
self—the one not reducible to the absence of the other—both are positive
qualities and different from knowledge. The object of pleasure is what is desired and favorable, whereas the object of pain is not desired and unfavorable.
We want pleasurable experiences to continue and wish painful experiences
to end. Various kinds of pleasure and pain are distinguished: Those that are
caused by memory (of the objects of the past), by imagination (of the objects
of the future) and, in the case of persons who have attained knowledge of the
truth (without any objects). Pain arises from the objects or experiences contrary to what the experiencer desires; otherwise stated, pain is that which a
person does not desire and wishes it to end after it arises.
Desire arises by the thought of the enjoyment of objects, contrary conditions give rise to jealousy. Both may also arise from strong dispositions or
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T H E VA I Ś E Ṣ I K A D A R Ś A N A
habitualities, produced by the objects that are dear, by the objects that cause
pain, and from appropriate adṛṣṭa or “unseen” potencies that have arisen in
the self. A fourth kind of desire (and its opposite) arises from the intrinsic nature of the natural kinds to which an animal belongs: Thus, humans desire
food, other animals desire grass or plants to eat, etc. Later authors classify desires into those whose objects are the intended results of actions, those whose
objects are the means to reach the results, and those whose objects are actions
themselves.
Dve ṣa (hatred or jealousy) is what burns inside, causes constant remembrance of the object, or the means for reaching it, and the thought of accomplishing it, causes the needed effort and produces such qualities in the self as
dharma and adharma. Hatred is either simple anger or produces such deformations in the bodily expressions as vices, anger, impatience, and unforgiving
feelings do.
Prayatna or effort appears last among the qualities of the self, often described
as “enthusiasm” (utsāha) to do something which we all immediately experience within ourselves. The efforts caused by desire are “pravṛtti,” those caused
by hatred are “nivṛtti”; both pravṛtti and nivṛtti are different from the efforts
(e.g., breathing and other intra-bodily process) that are necessary to sustain life.
Two unseen (adṛṣṭa) qualities accruing to the soul are dharma and adharma,
in the sense of moral virtue and its opposite respectively. Given that Ka ṇāda
at the outset explains “dharma” testifes to its importance for the Vaiśeṣika
school.30 He states that everything else, i.e., all other entities, are for the purpose of leading up to “dharma.” He further explains “dharma” as that which
leads to fourishing (abhyudaya) in life and the highest goal in the next; the proof
of “dharma,” we are informed, exists in the Vedas.31 Dharma is brought about
by the performance of actions which are recommended; in itself, it is a gu ṇa
of the self. It is one of the specifc qualities of the self, i.e., it cannot accrue to
anything else. It is not a gu ṇa of the buddhi (like in Sāṁ khya); it can only exist
in a self. It is created by the conjunction of the self with the inner sense, appropriate resolutions, and performance of recommended actions. Adharma is its
opposite. Both dharma and adharma are known by a common name “adṛṣṭa” or
“unseen”—a word often used in the Vaiśeṣika works, but not in the Gautama’s
Nyāyas ūtras or any other Nyāya commentary.
Sa ṃsk āras or dispositions (of the past experiences) is a special quality of the
self, which is introduced as the cause of memory and recognition. It is this
disposition that is either awakened or strengthened (or weakened) by appropriate conditions. Without positing such an unseen quality in the self, a past
cognition (long since gone out of existence) could not be remembered. Habit
strengthens dispositions, a special effort (e.g., to experience unseen entities)
may cause especially powerful dispositions. The Vaiśeṣika recognizes three
varieties of sa ṃsk āra: (1) Speed (vega) that keeps things in motion, (2) mental impressions (bh āvan ā) that helps us to remember and recognize, and (3) elasticity
(sthitisth āpakatva) which helps a thing move to regain the equilibrium when it is
disturbed, e.g., a string of rubber. It is worth noting that these dispositions do
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
not belong to the self alone; they also belong to other things as well. It is not
entirely clear why the Vaiśeṣika brings dispositions accruing to the self under
the same genus as velocity of moving material things and elasticity. A moving
thing has the momentum in it to move. An elastic thing, when stretched, has
the power, tendency, or built-in disposition to contract. Thus, one could argue
that elasticity and momentum are not ordinary qualities, but rather dispositions to behave in certain ways.
Karma (Action)
The next category is karma or action. Unlike the usages of “karma” in other
systems, karma signifes the movement of a thing from one place to another.
It is different from the voluntary actions done with subjective desires to do as
well as effort, which is one of the gu ṇas. Karma is simple displacement of positions in space, and it is with the help of karma that one thing reaches another
place. It therefore does not belong to quality, which does not move. While
quality is a passive attribute, karma is dynamic. The Vaiśeṣika recognizes fve
kinds of action: Throwing upward, throwing downward, contraction, expansion, and movement.32 Among substances, all-pervasive ones cannot possess
motion; thus, the self, being all-pervasive, cannot move and cannot act.
With “substance,” “quality,” and “action,” we have circumscribed the basic core of the world according to Vaiśeṣika. The world at its core consists of
qualities and particular objects in motion. But these three by themselves do
not suffce to yield a complete ontology. We need:
1
2
3
4
some feature that substances, qualities, and actions have in common;
an account of the incurable particularity or uniqueness of things;
a basic relation that ties these entities together; and
some category that accounts for the pluralistic realism of the system.
Considering the above, let us now turn to the next four categories that form
the outer layer of the categorical structure of the world in this system.
S ām ānya (Universal)
For the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas, universals, variously called “sām ānya” or “ jāti,” are
entities which though one and eternal inhere in many. A universal, for example, “pitcherness,” is eternal (nitya), and inheres in many particular instances
(aneka samveta).33 Pitcherness, they argue, is present in all pitchers, and it would
persist even if all pitchers were to be destroyed. When there is only one instance of a thing, its distinguishing feature is not a universal, for example,
ether.
Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas hold that the universals are real entities, which are not
dependent upon the human mind. They advocate a realism regarding universals, which many realists in the Western world embraced beginning with
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Plato. However, more akin to Aristotle, the Vaiśeṣika took universals to be
natural kinds such as “cowness” and “redness.” Particulars instantiating a
universal come and go, but neither a particular coming into being nor its
going out of existence makes any difference to the being of a universal in
which they inhere. The manifestation or the lack of manifestation does not
affect the being of a universal, because its being is eternal. Universals account for an infnite number of particulars that are alike, though otherwise
different. Universals belong to substances as well as to qualities and actions,
as do cowness, redness, and falling-ness respectively. If the instantiating particular is perceived, then the instantiated universal is also perceived, and it is
perceived by the same sense organ as the particular. If a specifc sweet thing,
e.g., sugar, is apprehended by taste, then sweetness is also apprehended by
taste. It is because of the universal that we designate different instantiations of
one particular by the same name; however, unlike many Western realists, the
Vaiśeṣika does not believe that the universal “cowness” is the meaning of the
word “cow.” The Vaiśeṣika argues that if that were the case, then the sentence
“bring a cow” would mean “bring cowness,” which is absurd; it rather means
a particular that is characterized by the appropriate universal, i.e., a cow
characterized by cowness in this case.
The Vaiśeṣika distinguished between three orders of universals: The parā
or the highest, the aparā or the lowest, and the parāparā or the middle. Satt ā or
existence is the highest, and belongs to all substances, qualities, and actions,
“cowness” is of the lowest order belonging only to cows, while “substanceness”
is of the middle rank belonging as it does to all the substances.34
Later commentators, led by such Naiyāyikas as Uddyotakara and Udayana,
introduced “ jātibādhakas,” i.e., “the features which rule out the being of a universal.” Of the various defects discussed, I will discuss only one that is known
as sāṅkarya.35 Such a defect exists when two mutually exclusive characteristics
are present in the same substratum. For example, the characteristic of being
an element is common to the fve elements—earth, water, fre, air, and ether;
and the character of moving is present in earth, water, fre, air, and mind.
Thus, both (element-ness and moving-ness) have earth, water, fre, and air in
common. However, the character of being an element applies only to ether
and not to mind, and the character of moving-ness applies to mind and not
to ether. Therefore, if the “element-ness” is taken to be a universal, it will also
apply to the four elements (earth, water, fre, and air which have moving-ness);
the element-ness will coincide with moving-ness and will also apply to mind,
and moving-ness will also apply to ether. That is why characteristics with
partially overlapping denotations are not logical universals. Finally, if there
is only one instance of a kind, adding an appropriate suffx to its name does
not name a universal. Space being one, space-ness (āk āśatva) is not a universal.
Space-ness, therefore, is merely a distinguishing characteristic (upādhi), and
not a logical universal. Finally, universals also cannot belong to a universal:
“Cowness-ness” is not a universal. There are many such cases where an abstract noun does not designate a universal.
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Before proceeding further, let me underscore an important distinction, i.e.,
the distinction between a jāti and a upādhi, which plays a very important role
in the Vaiśeṣika ontology.36 It clearly brings out the Vaiśeṣika conception of
universals as a real, eternal, natural class essences existing in the objective
world. A universal is a simple pad ārtha and it cannot be analyzed into other
attributes, properties, components, and so on, which explains why a general
term, for example, “horse,” stands for a universal, but a term like “black
horse” does not. “A black horse” represents a complex of properties and does
not imply the existence of an additional ontologically distinct entity over and
above the blackness. In other words, the property of being a black horse is not
over and above the blackness, and, therefore, is not reducible to it.
The Advaitins reject the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika category of universal. Apart
from the brahman, nothing is eternal for them. Such universals as “pitcherness,” “cowness,” etc., they argue, are the sum-total of the characteristics of a
pitcher, cow, etc., which distinguishes them from other objects.37 The universals of the pitchers, tables, etc., are not created afresh each time the pitchers,
tables, etc., are created; likewise, the universals of the cows, etc., are not created afresh each time the cows, etc., are born. Individual substances, qualities,
and actions are created and born; their universal essences, however, are not
created and born.
Believing that only particulars are real, and that they too come and go, the
Buddhists held that there is no universal, and that all classifcations are introduced by language. The idea of a “universal” or “sameness” arises because
of their being known by the same name. Only the name is general, which does
not stand for any positive class essence. We call a class of animals “horse,” not
because it possesses a common essence called “horseness,” but because they are
different from all other animals that are not horses. Accordingly, the Buddhists
argue that there is no such thing as a universal or a class concept; there are
only particular objects of experience. Eventually, this account developed into
the apoha theory, which held that the word “horseness” means “not-being-anon-horse.” A particular horse therefore means a not-non-horse. There is no
real universal, a universal is simply a name with a negative connotation. The
Buddhist apoha theory is a sort of nominalism. The Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas subscribe
to realism; they hold that both, particulars and universals, are independently
real. They argue that without real universals, the world would consist of numberless transient particulars; it would not be the ordered distinct totality it is,
and the use of language to describe the world would not be possible. So, they
totally reject the Buddhist position that particulars alone are real.
Vi śe ṣa (Particularity)38
Things are experienced not only as being alike; they are also perceived as being different. Even when they share the same qualities, they are distinct, e.g.,
though all cows have cowness, one cow is different from another cow. Vi śe ṣa is
an entity, again a real entity, which accounts for this ultimate distinctness of
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individuals. The use of such indexicals as “this” or “that” does not explain individuality, but presupposes it. Therefore, we need a new category to explain
individuality of entities.
The Vaiśeṣika argues that a quality (or gu ṇa) of an individual thing cannot
explain vi śe ṣa or particularity. Two things may have all the same qualities,
e.g., twins, but they still are distinct. Could each one’s distinctness be due to
the stuff it is made of, its “matter” (a position which Aristotle held)? But then,
we are led to ask, what distinguishes the stuff of the one from the stuff of the
other identical twin? We may ask, what distinguishes one atom from another?
The Vaiśeṣika answers as follows: Each, otherwise non-distinguishable partless particular, possesses its own particularity; it is a real entity. The particularity of the wholes is accounted for by the particularities of its parts, but when
we come to further partless entities the same explanation will not work; we
have to stop somewhere in order to avoid an infnite regress and recognize a
new real feature, its own particularity, only for individuals that do not possess
parts. Each atom (also each soul) has its own particularity. Therefore, the
Vaiśeṣikas argue that particularity is the unique individuality of the eternal
substances, e.g., space, time, ether, minds, souls, and atoms of earth, water,
fre, and air.39
It is important to remember that “particularity” is not a universal feature
of distinct particulars. Ordinary objects of the world, for example, pitchers,
tables, and chairs, are constituted of parts, and so do not require particularity
to explain them. Particularity is needed to explain the differences among the
partless eternal substances. The particularity of an atom or of a soul is not perceived; it is inferred. Furthermore, to regard particularity as a universal would
be self-contradictory, it would contradict the very sense of “particularity.”
Samavāya (Inherence)
The one genuine relation which the Vaiśeṣika recognizes and admits as a
distinct category is samavāya, often translated as “inherence.” Etymologically,
“samavāya” means “the act of coming together closely”; it therefore denotes a
kind of “intimate union” between two things that are thereby rendered inseparable in such a way that they cannot be separated without themselves being
destroyed. Anna ṃbhaṭṭ a defnes samavāya as “a permanent connection existing
between two things that are found inseparable.”40 By virtue of this relation,
such different things as substance and its qualities (e.g., a fower and its color
red), a particular and the universal it instantiates (e.g., a cow and cowness), a
substance and its action (a body and its motion), a whole and its parts (e.g., a
cloth and the threads constituting it) become unifed and represent an inseparable whole (ayutasiddha). Samavāya is an eternal relation. Excepting the case
of a whole and its constituent parts, the relation holds good between entities
belonging to two different categories. It also holds good between an ultimate,
partless, particular and its particularity. In the case of a blue fower, the fower
is inseparable from its blue color; one could as well say that blue particular is
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inseparable from the fower whose blue it is. In the case of a cow and its cowness, the cow will die but when the cow is dead and no more, cowness will be
there instantiated in other cows. There is a one-sided inseparability between
the terms among whom this relation holds good. Thus, this relation is the
same no matter what its relata are; it thus behaves like a universal.
Śa ṃ kara rejects the relation of samavāya. He argues that if the relation of
samavāya is needed to unite two different objects, then samavāya itself, being
different from both of them, would need another samavāya, and so on ad infnitum.41 The Vaiśeṣikas argue that one cannot ask how the relation of inherence is related to the terms. Positing another relation between a relatum and
the relation would only lead to an infnite regress, so it is more economical
to recognize inherence to be a self-relating relation, and, in that sense, it is
a genuine relation. Conjunction, by contrast, is not a self-relating relation.
Additionally, it is a quality and is related to the conjuncts by inherence.
Inherence is not conjunction:
(1) because the members of this relationship are inseparably connected; (2) because this relationship is not caused by the action of any
one of the members related; (3) because it is not found to end with
the disjunction of the members; and (4) it is found subsisting only
between the container and the contained.42
Inherence is a sort of ontological glue, which makes it possible for the entities to
be unifed, despite the categorical multiplicity. But it glues entities from different categories within limits; it does not weld all things in the world into one
large thing, rather unifes different entities that constitute one thing such as a
white cow or a blue fower. We perceive the relation when we perceive the relata, as in the case of the blue color and a substance fower; we do not perceive
the relation obtaining between an atom and its atomic size.
Abh āva (Negation or Non-existence)43
Because all knowledge points to an object that is necessarily real and independent, the knowledge of negation implies its existence apart from that
knowledge. In other words, the absence of an object is different from the
knowledge of its absence. The Naiy āyikas maintain that negation (abh āva)
is always of a real negation in a real locus. There is no such thing as pure
or bare negation. Both presence and absence are objective facts. Since
Vaiśeṣika is a pluralist and a realist, it admits many different reals, each
different from the other. Of such fnite things as this blue fower, it holds
good that if it is here and now, it is not, at the same time, there and now; if it
is blue, it is also not red.
The Vaiśeṣika therefore, for a complete theory or description of the world,
needs only one more type of entity, besides those discussed so far, namely,
“negation.” The judgments “A is not B,” “A is not in B,” and “A does not
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possess B-ness” affrm real negations, and these must articulate reality quite
independently of any subjective point of view. Negation, according to the
Vaiśeṣika, is an objectively real constituent of the world.
Now, as the above examples demonstrate, “negation” is of many different
kinds,44 and we can here lay down a broad typology of them in the fgure
given below, and under each heading I will give within brackets the appropriate linguistic articulation for it.
Negation
1. Absence
(“A is not in B”)
3. Prior nonexistence
(“A will be”)
2. Mutual non-existence)
(“A is not B”)
4. Consequent
non-existence
(“A is no more”)
5. Absolute
non-existence
(“A is not here now”)
Concrete Examples
1
2
3
4
5
There is no jar on the foor.
A pitcher is not a jar.
The pitcher is not yet made; it is not but will be.
The pitcher is destroyed; it was but is no more.
There is no elephant in this room.
Let me elaborate these fve negations.
In #1, there is the absence or non-existence of something in something else,
e.g., “S is not in P.” It is the absence of a connection between two entities; its
opposite is their connection. It is of three kinds: Antecedent non-existence,
consequent or subsequent non-existence, and absolute non-existence.
Antecedent or prior non-existence (#3) is the non-existence of a thing prior
to its production, e.g., the non-existence of the house in the bricks, the nonexistence of a pitcher in the clay, the non-existence of a ring in a nugget of
gold, etc. Anna ṁbhaṭṭ a defnes prāgabh āva as that “which is without a beginning” (an ādi) but “has an end” (santa); it “exists before the production of an
effect.”45 This non-existence has no beginning but has an end, because as
soon as the house is built the non-existence of the house in the bricks, pitcher
in the clay, a ring in a nugget of gold, comes to an end.
Subsequent or consequent non-existence (#4) is the non-existence of a thing
on account of its destruction. A house after it is built may be demolished. It has
a beginning but no end.46 The non-existence of the house begins when it is
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
demolished or burned; however, this non-existence cannot be ended because
one cannot bring the same house into existence.
Absolute non-existence (#5) is the non-existence of a connection between
two things for all times—the past, the present, and the future. Anna ṁbhaṭṭ a explains absolute existence (atyant ābh āva) as that absence “which abides
through the three modes of time” (traik ālika) and “the facthood of whose
negatum” ( pratiyogit ā) is specifed (avachinna) by a “relation” (sa ṁsarga); e.g.,
“There is no pot [pitcher] on the ground.”47 It neither has a beginning nor
an end. In other words, it is both beginningless and endless. For example,
there is absence of horns in a hare for all times—the past, the present, and
the future.
Finally, the mutual non-existence (#2) is the non-existence of one thing as
another, e.g., “S is not P.” Two objects, which are different from each other,
mutually exclude each other. The mutual non-existence, like absolute nonexistence, is also beginningless and endless. However, there is an important
difference between the two. Whereas in the absolute non-existence there are
actual material objects, e.g., hare and horn and a negation of the relationship
between the two, mutual non-existence is only a logical negation between two
things that may not be actual. For example, “a red river is not a blue river” is
true, though there is no red and no blue river.48
Those schools of Indian philosophy that accept abh āva or non-existence differ regarding the question of its apprehension. How is abh āva or non-existence
apprehended? According to the Bhāṭṭ as and the Advaitins, non-perception is
the source of our knowledge of absence. In other words, the absence of knowledge causes the knowledge of absence. When all conditions of perception are
present, but the object is not perceived, the absence of perception produces
the perception of absence. In entering a room in the full day light, when there
is the absence of the perception of an elephant, we perceive the absence of an
elephant in the room. The Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika, however, argues that the absence
of an elephant in the room means that the room is characterized by the adjective “absenceness,” which is related to the room by the relation of vi śe ṣa ṇat ā,
i.e., adjectivity, a kind of svar ūpa sambandha, in which the nature of abh āva or
absence itself is the “term” as well as the “relation.” In other words, “absenceness” is the distinguishing characteristic as well as the relation of characterization. In short, the sense organ, i.e., eyes, perceives the room as well as the
“absenceness” of the object in the room.
To sum up, negation or absence or non-existence as a category includes
both negative entities and various types of negations. Acceptance of abh āva
as a separate category recognizes the importance of this category for both
metaphysics and epistemology.
III Concluding Reflections
We have now come to the end of our exposition of the Vaiśeṣika pad ārthas. It
is close to the Aristotelian and the Kantian lists, but it is more comprehensive
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and systematic. It provides the basis for a comprehensive description of the
world, but not a list of categories used by modern science.
In its conception of the pad ārthas, the Vaiśeṣika provides an enumeration
of reals without any attempt to synthesize them. It includes not only such
categories as substance, quality, and action, but also such formal categories as
identity, difference, and abh āva, and such relational categories as conjunction,
inherence, etc. One wonders how the Vaiśeṣika arrived at its list of pad ārthas.
Why, for example, causality does not appear in the list?
There is no reason to accept the list of Vaiśeṣika pad ārthas as absolute; however, it does provide a good starting point to begin a dialogue regarding the
conceptions that underlie this list as well as the reasons for its non-acceptance
by those systems which do not accept it.
Finally, it is important to note that the Vaiśeṣika pad ārthas are not simply
theoretical concepts; they reinforce the close connection between the theory
and practice in Indian thought. The very frst s ūtra that lists the pad ārthas
includes ātm ā in that list, and emphatically declares that knowledge of these
pad ārthas helps to gain mok ṣa. Ātm ā is to be known in its purity as distinguished
from other substances.
Study Questions
1. Explain the Vaiśeṣika conception of dravya. Of the seven categories, why
is dravya the most important?
2. Explain the Vaiśeṣika theory of atoms. What are some of the differences
between the Vaiśeṣika and the Greek theories of atoms?
3. Explain the Vaiśeṣika category of karma or action. How does the Vaiśeṣika
conception of karma differ from the conception of karma as understood in
Indian philosophy?
4. Explain the Vaiśeṣika theory of abh āva. Does it make sense to admit abh āva (negation or non-existence) as an independent category? Give reasons for your answer.
5. Explain the categories of sām ānya, vi śe ṣa, and samavāya. What purpose do
they serve in the Vaiśeṣika system? Is it possible to do away with one of
these three without jeopardizing the integrity of the Vaiśeṣika pluralistic
realism?
Suggested Readings
For the Vaiśeṣika metaphysics, see Wilhelm Halbfass, On Being and What There
Is: Classical Vai śe ṣika and the History of Indian Ontolog y (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1992); Pradyot Kumar Mukhopadhyaya, Indian Realism: A Rigorous Descriptive Metaphysics (Calcutta: K.P. Bagchi, 1984).
For English translations, see Nyāya-Vai śe ṣika, Encyclopedia of Indian Philosophies. Edited by Karl H. Potter (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass 1977), Vol. 2.
This work translates some important texts, introduces early philosophers
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
of this school, and makes readers familiar with the important concepts
and the conceptual distinctions. For an excellent exposition of Vaiśeṣika
philosophy, see Praśastapāda’s Pad ārthadharmasa ṅgraha. Translated by Sir
Ganganatha Jha (Delhi: Chaukhambha Orientalia, 1982). For a concise
introduction to Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika’s central epistemological and ontological
principles, see Tarka-Sa ṃgraha of Anna ṃbha ṭṭa with D īpīk ā and Govardhana’s
Nyāya-Bodhinī (cited as TSDNB), edited with critical explanatory notes by
Yashwant Vasudev Athalye, Bombay Sanskrit and Prakrit Series, No. 55
(Bombay: R. N. Dandekar, l963); The Elements of Indian Logic and Epistemolog y, based on a portion of Tarka-Sa ṃgraha of Anna ṃbha ṭṭa with D īpīka
(cited as TS), with translation and explanatory notes by Chandrodaya
Bhattacharyya (Calcutta: Modern Book Agency Publishers, 1962). The
last two works are based on Tarka-Sa ṃgraha of Anna ṃbha ṭṭa; however, the
frst work contains many Sanskrit words in the notes which might pose
problems for readers not familiar with Sanskrit.
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12
THE N YĀYA DAR Ś A NA
I Introduction
The Nyāya school most likely had its origin in its attempt to formulate canons
of argument for use in debates, which pervaded the Indian philosophical scene
for a long time. The Nyāya derives its name from “nyāya,” meaning the rules of
logical thinking and the means of determining the right thing. Though originally identifed as a system of logic, i.e., laying down the rules of logical argumentation, Nyāya also became renowned as “ānvῑk ṣik ῑ ” (the science of critical
examination), blossomed into a systematic school, and found its legitimate
place among the six Vedic systems of philosophy. The school is also known
as “tarka śāstra” (the treatise of reasoning), “vādavidyā” (the science of debate),
“hetuvidyā” (the science of causes), etc. It found a close ally in the Vaiśeṣika
school. The Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika systems, despite some minor differences, share
a common ontology and epistemology; the Vaiśeṣika developed and detailed
ontology (discussed in the last chapter), and the Nyāya advanced epistemology. In this chapter, I will primarily focus on the Nyāya epistemology.
Gautama frst systematized Nyāya in the Nyāyas ūtras (NS) in 250–450 CE.
This text belongs to the post-Buddhistic period. Nyāya begins with Gautama’s NS and Vātsyāyana’s commentary (Nyāyabh āṣya, ffth century CE) on
it; Udyotakara explained and commented on it in his Nyāyavārttika (seventh
century CE). Vācaspati (ninth century CE) commented on Nyāyavārttika in
his Nyāyavārttikat ῑk ā. Other important works of this school are Udayana’s
(tenth century CE) Nyāyavārttikat ātparyapari śuddhi and Kusum āñjalῑ, and Jayanta’s Nyāyamañjar ῑ (tenth century CE). These works elaborate and develop the
ideas contained in NS and defend the doctrines against the hostile attacks.
Thus, we can say that the ancient Nyāya (prāchῑna Nyāya) developed out of the
Gautama’s NS. By the time of Udayana, the foundation of the school of modern Nyāya, technically called “Navya-Nyāya” (Neo-Nyāya), was laid because
of the efforts of Ga ṅgeśa, the author of Tattvacint āma ṇi. The most renowned
logician of this school was Raghunāth Śiroma ṇ i, and another famous exponent was Gadādhara (seventeenth century).
The most important difference between the old Nyāya and the Neo-Nyāya
may be expressed as follows: The Neo-Nyāya discussed relational facts as
the Nyāya did; however, to express the contents more adequately, the school
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developed a new terminology and style. What the Naiyāyikas expressed in a
simple language, the Neo-Naiyāyikas expanded into more sophisticated expressions using such technical jargons as avacchedakat ā (the property of being
the limitor), vi ṣayat ā (the property of being the object), prak ārat ā (the property
of being a qualifer), and sa ṃsargat ā (the property of being a relation). I will
explain it with the help of an example. Whereas the old Nyāya would say “the
book is on the table,” the neo Nyāya would express the same as “the book
is being qualifed by the qualifer bookness,” state the relation of “being on
the table as the relation of conjunction,” and determine the table as qualifed
by “tableness.” It is important to note that this was only the beginning of
the sophistication. Such authors as Gadādhara excelled in this sophisticated
discourse. Thus, beginning with Ga ṅgeśa in the eleventh century in Mithila,
Neo-Nyāya had its high period in Navadeep, Bengal, where a galaxy of logicians fourished. In this chapter, however, I will focus on the ancient Nyāya.
As stated earlier, the frst systematizer of the ancient Nyāya (henceforth,
referred to as Nyāya) was Gautama, also known as “Ak ṣapāda,” who lived in
Mithila. He not only systematized the already existing logical thought, but
also used the occasion to respond to the Buddhist challenges. Vātsyāyana,
Fundamental Postulates
1 Knowledge consists in the manifestation of objects. Knowledge,
like the light of a lamp, reveals objects around it.
2 True cognition (pram ā) reveals the object as it is.
3 There are four means (pram āṇas) of true cognition: Perception, inference, comparison, and verbal testimony.
4 Perception is a true cognition produced by sense object contact.
5 Inference is the knowledge that arises after (anu) another knowledge.
6 Comparison or analogy is the knowledge of a relation between a
word and the referent of the word.
7 Verbal testimony from an authoritative source is a reliable source
of knowledge.
8 There are three untrue (false) cognitions (apram ā): Doubt, error,
and hypothetical reasoning.
9 There is a distinction between the nature of truth and the test (criterion) of truth. Truth and how one comes to know it are different
issues.
10 Bondage is due to the ignorance of reality.
11 Knowledge of the distinction between the self and the not-self is
essential to attain mok ṣa.
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the author of the principal commentary (bh āṣya) on NS (NSBh), possibly belonged to the fourth century CE. Subsequent commentators did the same;
they not only explicated the intentions of the bh āṣya but also defended the
Nyāya against opponent’s criticisms. One may say that the Nyāya developed
from the time of the Gautama up to the time of Śa ṃ kara (eighth century CE).
At the outset in his NS, Gautama names sixteen entities (pad ārthas) by
knowing which one can attain the highest good.1 The sixteen entities are (1)
pram āṇas or the means of right cognition, (2) prameya or the object of right
cognition, (3) sam śaya or doubt, (4) prayojana or purpose, (5) dṛṣṭānta or example
(required in inference), (6) siddh ānta or conclusion, (7) avayava or components of
an inference, (8) tarka or counterfactual argument, (9) nir ṇaya or ascertainment
of the truth, (10) vāda or analytic consideration, (11) jalpa or wrangling, (12)
vita ṇḍā or debate, (13) hetvābh āsas or fallacies of the hetu, (14) chala or pseudo replies, (15) jāti or futile arguments, and (16) nigrahasth āna or the place of defeat.
The last eight are pseudo-logical arguments. Gautama concludes the s ūtra by
noting that a proper knowledge of these entities leads to the highest good. It
is not an exaggeration to say that the Nyāya is an elaboration of these sixteen
philosophical topics.
In this chapter, I will primarily focus on the Nyāya theory of pram āṇas, i.e.,
the causes of true cognition (pram ā k āra ṇam) and the means of the justifcation
of true cognition. As a causal theory, the theory of pram āṇas is subsumed under
its ontology, because the theory explains how a certain gu ṇa or property called
“knowledge” arises in a certain entity called “self.” As a theory of justifcation,
however, the pram āṇas provide not only norms of justifcation for the theory
of knowledge, but also justifcation for its ontological theory. Thus, from one
perspective, epistemology falls under ontology, but from another, ontology is
dependent upon the norms of epistemology.
Given that the pram āṇas appear frst on the list of the pad ārthas, I will begin
with the Nyāya epistemology.
II The Nyāya Theory of Knowledge
Pramāṇas (Sources of Valid Knowledge or True Cognition)
Vātsyāyana, at the outset of his bh āṣya on the NS, states:
The pram āṇas are the most effective means of right cognition. When
a thing is known by the pram āṇas, it has the power to arouse fruitful
and successful response. In the absence of a pram āṇa, there is neither
cognition of a thing nor fruitful response, except when a thing has
been cognized. It is only after a knower or the cognizer has apprehended a thing by pram āṇa, he either wants to acquire it or shun it.
His practical effort, as qualifed by his desire to acquire or shun the
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thing, is activity (pravṛtti). When a cognizer undertakes the activity
after having the desire to acquire or shun it, and by that activity in
fact acquires it or shuns it, his activity becomes successful, which
constitutes the power of that activity.2
A pram āṇa, in other words, is an unerring concomitant of an object. By the
success of a fruitful response is meant the response which leads to success. But
a pram āṇa does not directly lead to a successful practice. It leads to success via
the true cognition of the object. After the practice is successful, the fact that
the pram āṇa has truly grasped the object is ascertained by inference. The point
is that no cognition without being true can generate a response which reaches
the object.
Since a pram āṇa correctly apprehends its object, the knower, the object of
knowledge, the knowledge itself, all three become the invariable accompaniments of the object because without a pram āṇa there is no determination of the
object. The knower responds because of the desire to possess the object or the
hatred to shun it. Pram āṇa is that by which a cognizer knows the object and
the object that is known is prameya.3 In other words, pram āṇa is the instrumental
cause of a cognition, and prameya is the object cognized. The knowledge of the
object is pramiti. Since these four invariably accompany the object, with these
four the nature of truth (tattva) is exhausted. But what is this tattva? It is the
being of what it is, and the non-being of what it is not. Vātsyāyana proceeds
to argue that when the being of an existent thing is cognized, at the same
time, the non-being of what it is not is also apprehended. Like a lamp, a cognition manifests what is there, but at the same time, it also manifests what is
not there. The intention is to assert that the absence is cognized in much the
same way as the presence of a real entity. As a result, though Gautama does
not mention it, absence is as much a pad ārtha as a positive entity, whatever is
determined by a pram āṇa is a pad ārtha.
The above paragraphs briefy, though pointedly, articulate the nature of
the cognitive process, its relation to being and non-being of things, the relation of knowledge to the object, the means of knowing, the object known, and
the practical response which follows one’s cognition.
The means of knowing or pram āṇas are four: Perception, inference, comparison, and verbal knowledge or testimony.4 I will begin with perception.
Perception (Pratyak ṣa)
The word “perception” applies to both a form of true cognition (pram ā) and
the method or the pram āṇa of acquiring true cognition. Here, we are concerned with the perception as a pram āṇa.
For the Naiyāyikas, perception is a cognition that is produced ( janya) from
the contact of a sense organ with an object; it is not itself linguistic, is not
erroneous, and is well ascertained.5 The self, the mind, the sense organs, the
objects, and specifc contacts between them are necessary for the perception
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to occur. The contacts take place in a succession: The self comes in contact
with the mind or the manas, the manas with the sense organ concerned, and the
sense organ with the object. This operation produces a cognition of the sort
“this pitcher is blue.” All knowledge is revelation of objects, and the contact of
the senses with an object is not metaphorical, but literal.
For the Naiyāyikas, sense contact with the object is the primary and indispensable condition of all knowledge. They further maintain that the senses
can be in contact not only with their objects, qualities, and universals, but also
with their negation. All perceptual knowledge can be expressed in the form
of a judgment, a subject with something predicated of it. A percept, such as
a cow, really stands for a judgment. “A cow,” for example, “means an object
possessing the characteristic of cowness.” In cases of perceptual illusions, the
sense comes in contact with the real object; however, because of the presence
of certain external factors, it is associated with the wrong characteristics, and
the object is misapprehended. In other words, what is present in the mind
appears as the object in front of us.
The Nyāya defnition of perception as a form of valid knowledge that originates and is caused by sense stimulation follows the etymological meaning
of the term “pratyak ṣa.” Etymologically, “pratyak ṣa” is a combination of “prati”
(to, near, before) and “ak ṣa” (sense organ), meaning “present before the eyes
or any other sense organs”; it signifes direct or immediate knowledge. Gautama considers the term “object” to signify both physical objects (e.g., table,
chair, pitcher) and internal objects (e.g., pleasure and pain).6 So, perception
is a cognition that is always of an object. Cognitions of substances like tables
and chairs are “external perceptions,” and of pleasure and pain are “internal
perceptions.” Gautama further adds that perception is not impregnated by
words (avyapade śa) and defnite (vyavasāyātmaka).
When we try to come to grips with the Nyāya defnition of perception, we
begin to see that the defnition applies only to perceptions which are “ janya,”
i.e., “produced”; these perceptions arise and pass away. This defnition of
perception does not include divine or yogic perceptions which do not require
contact of the sense organs and the objects. The Naiyāyikas were aware of
this diffculty; so, the later Naiyāyikas attempt to make the concept of “contact” more precise by making a distinction among different kinds of contacts,
and articulate the defnition of perception in terms of direct and immediate
cognition which does not require sense-object contact. Ga ṅgeśa, for example,
defnes perception in a more general sense to include both human and divine
perceptions. It is a cognition that is not caused by another cognition.7 This
defnition applies to God’s perception which is not caused, as well as to human
perceptions, which are not caused by any prior knowledge but by sense object
contact.
To understand the Nyāya theory of perception, it is essential that we have a
clear conception of what the Naiyāyikas mean by “contact.” On the Naiyāyika account, contact is a function of a sense organ through which it enters into
a specifc relation with its appropriate object giving rise to the perception of
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
that object. This contact between the sense organs and the objects may be of
various kinds.
The Naiyāyikas, following the commentator Uddyotakara, distinguish
among six kinds of contacts8 between a sense organ and an object.
Six Ordinary Contacts
1
2
3
4
5
6
Sa ṁyoga (conjunction): A direct contact of the eyes with the object,
say, a pitcher in the kitchen in full sight.
Sa ṁyukta samav āya (inherence in what is conjoined): An indirect
contact of sense organ with its object through the mediation of a
third term that is related to both, e.g., when my eyes come in contact with the color of the pitcher through the pitcher in full sight.
Sa ṁyukta samaveta samavāya (inherence in what is inseparably related to what is conjoined): A still more indirect contact with the
mediation of two terms that are related, e.g., in perceiving a pitcher
in the kitchen, I also perceive “colorness” which inheres in the color
of the pitcher; there is a contact of the eyes with the “colorness”
with the mediation of “pitcher” and “color,” i.e., conjunction with
the pitcher and the second kind of contact with the color.
Samav āya (inherence): When I hear a sound, the sound inheres in
the ear (according to Vai śeṣika ontology), so the sense organ of
hearing is in contact with the sound in the relation of samav āya.
Samaveta samavāya (the relation of inherence in that which inheres):
The contact between the sense and its object via a third term that
is inseparably related to both, e.g., in the auditory perception of
soundness, the ear is in contact with the “soundness” because it
inheres in the sound, which, in turn, inheres as a quality in the ear.
Vi śe ṣaṇa vi śe ṣaya bh āva (qualifer-qualifed relation): Here the sense is
in contact with the object insofar as the object is a qualifcation of
the other term connected with the sense—for example, when I see
the absence of a pitcher on the foor. The Naiyāyikas explain the perception of non-existence and the relation of inherence with the help
of this contact. When I see the absence of an elephant on the foor of
my room, the visual sense organ has a conjunction with the foor, but
the absence is in the relation of viśeṣaṇatā with the foor.
The Naiyāyikas, in addition to the six ordinary contacts, recognize three extraordinary or alaukika contacts. Cases of perception that cannot be explained
in terms of ordinary contact between the object and any of the sense organs
are termed extra-empirical perceptions (alaukika pratyṣakas). They are sām ānyalak ṣan ā pratyak ṣa (perception of universals), jñ ānalak ṣa ṇā pratyāsatti (perception
by complex association or complication), and yogaja (intuitive perception).
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The Naiyāyikas argue that when we perceive an object, we perceive not
only the object presented to the sense but also the universal that inheres in
it. For example, when I perceive a cow, I not only perceive the cow but also
perceive the “universal cowness” that inheres in it. In this instance the contact
between the sense organ and the cowness is not direct. The cowness is cognized mediately, through the perception of at least one cow, by recollection;
this is perception of universals by extra-empirical contact.
The second kind of extraordinary contact takes place when upon perceiving
a piece of velvet, I also see its softness though I am not touching it. The color
of the velvet and its softness are associated in such a way that when I see one of
them in an ordinary contact, I also see the other in an extraordinary manner.
Here the knowledge of the one, i.e., the texture of the piece of the cloth, serves as
the medium through which the softness is visually perceived. It is that
in which one percept gives rise to another, as when one perceives
a piece of sandal-wood at a distance, one at once knows that it is
fragrant. Here the fragrance could be perceived neither by the eye,
nor by the nose as the sandal piece was at a distance; it is therefore
apprehended by a kind of extraordinary perception.9
This process corresponds to what has been articulated as perception through
complex association in Western psychology.
Yogaja or intuitive perception refers to the concentration of mind through
which a yog ī sees things that are beyond the scope of ordinary sense perception. Persons may develop abilities with the yogic practices to perceive events
yet to occur, or things at a great distance, or things like atoms, which are too
minute to be ordinarily perceived. This kind of extraordinary contact is possible only for persons adept in yoga.
The Naiyāyikas argue that a perceptual cognition takes place in two stages.
At frst with the contact of the sense organ with the object, there arises what
is known as indeterminate or non-conceptual (nirvikalpaka) cognition, and the
cognition that arises after it is determinate or conceptual (savikalpaka) cognition.10 Most systems of Indian philosophy recognize this succession: First,
the nirvikalpaka or the non-conceptual perception, and then the savikalpaka or
the conceptual perception. However, the systems differed as to the precise
nature of the non-conceptual perception. On the Nyāya view, all the components of a conceptual perception are known in the non-conceptual, but only
without being related to each other. In effect, a non-conceptual perception
is cognition of a bunch of unrelated entities (e.g., “this” and “thisness,” “ jar”
and “ jarness,” “blue” and “blueness”), but these entities are related into one
complex structure in a conceptual perception. The non-conceptual is a perceptual cognition, but there is no cognition of this cognition; consequently,
I do not know immediately that I had a non-conceptual perception. Only its
having occurred is known by inference after the occurrence of the conceptual
perception. In other words, the perceptual cognition “this pitcher is blue”
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
would not have occurred unless I had previously apprehended such elements
as “this,” “thisness,” “pitcher,” “pitcherness,” “blue,” and “blueness” separately. Thus, non-conceptual is the prior knowledge of a thing and its constituents as unrelated entities; it is known through inference from the conceptual
perception.
Inference (Anum āna)
Inference or anum āna is the primary concern of Nyāya, which is subsumed under logic in the Western sense. It is important to remember that in the Indian
discourse the domain of logic is part of the theory of knowledge or the pram āṇa
theory. The Indian theories discuss inference as a pram āṇa, i.e., as a mode of
knowing and not merely as a theory of valid thinking.
Gautama notes that inference as a means of knowing is grounded in perception.11 It is the knowledge that arises after (anu) another knowledge. Vātsyāyana
focuses on the etymology of anum āna (anu = after and mana = measuring) and
states that anumāna is measurement after something;12 it is that cognition which
presupposes some other cognition. It is mediate and indirect and arises through
the knowledge of the mark or liṅga. Consider the case of seeing smoke on a distant hill. Upon seeing the smoke on a hill, one infers that there is fre on the hill.
In this case, the smoke serves as the mark of the fre. Anna ṃbhaṭṭa notes that
anumāna or inference is the instrument of the inferential cognition (anumiti).13
Two aspects of the Nyāya theory of inference are worth noting: The inference for oneself (svārth ānuma āna) and the inference for others (parārth ānum āna).14
The frst provides a psychological account of the process. Let me provide an
illustrative example. Earlier in his life, a person, say, Bina, had acquired the
knowledge “wherever there is smoke, there is fre.” Now upon seeing a column
of smoke on a hill, Bina remembers what she had learnt previously, viz., that
fre always accompanies the smoke, and concludes that the hill is fery. This
last perception (whose cognitive structure is more complex than the initial
perception of smoke) would produce, in any rational mind, the inferential cognition “there is fre on the hill.”
So far, the account given is entirely psychological, i.e., a description of the
mental process which culminates in an inferential cognition. Clearly, the
process is not a logical structure; it gives the story of a causal chain of how
a cognition causes another whose fnal member is the inferential cognition.
However, in the second aspect of the theory, for the purposes of convincing
the other (parārth ānum āna), one can transform the story into a logical structure, somewhat like a syllogism with the well-known fve-membered structure,15 which is represented as follows:
1
there is fre on the hill (the proposition to be proved or pratijñ ā),
2
because there is smoke (states the reason or hetu),
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3
wherever there is smoke, there is fre (vyāpti),
4
as in the case of the kitchen (example or drṣṭānta),
5
there is fre on the hill (conclusion or nigamana).
The frst step is the assertion to be proved; the second gives the reason; the
third illustrates the invariable concomitance (e.g., of smoke and fre); the
fourth expresses “this too is like that,” which in this context means that “this
hill too is like a kitchen because it possesses smoke which is invariably concomitant with fre”; and the ffth is the conclusion in which the initial assertion is established as proved.
Of the above Nyāya construction of the fve-membered inference, two
important features must be remembered. First, the frst premise states the
conclusion, not as proved, but the assertion to be proved. Second, the fourth
premise provides an example, which illustrates the vyāpti or the universal concomitance between the middle term or hetu (smoke) and the major term (fre)
to be proved or sādhya. The example rules out the possibility of using such
universal propositions as “all men are immortal,” which are formally valid but
materially unsound. It is required that both the parties to the dispute agree
about the example to be used. In short, the inference requires both; it must be
formally valid and materially true.
Those familiar with Western logic will easily recognize that the Nyāya
sādhya, pak ṣa, and hetu resemble the major term, the minor term, and the middle term respectively of the Aristotelian syllogism. In the example under consideration (“this hill has fre, because there is smoke on the hill”), one could
say that the “hill” is the minor term, “fre” the major term, and “smoke,” the
middle, borrowing the technical vocabulary of the Aristotelian syllogism. It
might be argued that the frst and the ffth premise of the Nyāya inference
is the same; thus, the frst of them can be dispensed with, and the fourth
premise is a mere repetition or application of the hetu, and so it is superfuous;
so, there would remain only three propositions. So, it is not surprising that
many modern scholars tend to reduce the fve-membered Nyāya anum āna to a
three-membered syllogism. Such a reduction, however, is misleading. It is also
misleading to suggest that there is one-to-one correspondence between the
Nyāya sādhya, pak ṣa, and hetu and Aristotle’s major, minor, and middle term
respectively. Let me elaborate.
It is important to remember in this context that whereas Indian logic deals
with entities, the Aristotelian logic deals with terms. In the Aristotelian logic,
the validity of a syllogism depends on the extension of the minor term. Let me
give an illustrative example.
All human beings are mortal.
Socrates is a human being.
Therefore, Socrates is mortal.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
We can see from the above example that in the Aristotelian logic one fnds
three propositions, and the extension of the minor term “Socrates” is subsumed by the middle term “human being” and the extension of the middle
term by that of the major term “mortal.” In the Nyāya anum āna one fnds fve
steps. A jñ āna (cognition or knowledge) for Nyāya is an event, an occurrence,
and the fve steps of the inference are descriptions of jñ ānas which one undergoes in the process of inference. If the frst four cognitions of the inferential
process occur, the ffth one will follow. The Aristotelian syllogism concerns
the formal principles of the validity of an argument, the Nyāya inference
seeks both the formal validity and the material truth. An example, acceptable to both the proponent and the opponent in the fourth premise, assures
the material truth within the logical structure of an inference. In addition,
Western logic, especially in the modern form, completely separates logic from
psychology, which does not exist in Indian logic. Thus, there are important
differences between the Aristotelian syllogism and the Nyāya inference. If we
keep these differences in mind, we can still call the Nyāya terms by their Aristotelian counterparts for easy reference.
Finally, the Nyāya’s conception of inference clearly demonstrates the close
connection between the psychological process of inferring and the logical
structure of inference. In Western logical theories, particularly during the last
century, psychologism in logic has been severely criticized by such thinkers
as Frege and Husserl. The conception of pure logic as an ideal structure of
rationality above the temporal process of one’s mental life does not appear
among the concerns of the Indian mind. The psychological process is also
logical; however, it must be cast into a form that is suited for intersubjective
communication.
Scholars raise various questions regarding the nature of inference and the
methods of establishing vyāpti. In this introductory exposition, it is not possible
to discuss them all. However, to give my readers a favor of the kinds of questions raised and discussed, I will briefy review two classifcations of inference:
The frst deals with the nature of inference, and the second deals with the
method of establishing vyāpti.
Gautama makes a distinction among three kinds of inference—p ūrvavat,
that which infers from a cause (li ṇga) to the effect; śe ṣavat, that which infers
from an effect to the cause; and sām ānyatodṛṣṭa, that which brings together
several singular judgments under a universal.16
The frst two are based on causation and the last one is based on simple
coexistence. In the frst case, viz., p ūrvavat, i.e., “like what has been before,”
one infers based on past experience (hence this name): One sees dark clouds
and infers rain that is to follow. In the second case, viz., śe ṣavat, i.e., “like what
follows,” one infers the cause from the effect: One tastes a little water in the
sea as salty and infers that the entire sea water is so.
In the third, viz., sām ānyatodṛṣṭa, we infer the one from the other not on
account of any causal relation but because they are uniformly related in our
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experience. One observes a person, Caitra by name, now to be at a place,
and sometime later sees the same person at a different place and infers that
Caitra must have moved from one place to another. Seeing the sun in the
eastern horizon in the morning and the sun in the western horizon in the
evening, one infers the movement of the sun from the east to the west. On
seeing some mango trees bloom, one infers all mango trees to be blooming.
The third inference is the same as an inductive generalization or bringing
individuals perceived under a general concept that also applies to unperceived
individuals.
Another way of classifying inference is based on the nature and different methods of establishing vyāpti. These are keval ānvayi, kevalavyatireki, and
anvayavyatireki.17
In the frst, the middle term is positively related to the major term, and the
vyāpti is arrived at through the method of agreement in presence; there is no
instance of their agreement in absence.
For example:
All knowable objects are nameable.
The pitcher is knowable.
Therefore, the pitcher is nameable.
This inference corresponds to Mill’s Method of Agreement. In this inference
the universal premise “all knowable objects are nameable” is arrived at by an
enumeration of the positive instances of agreement between “knowable” and
“nameable.”
In the second, the middle term is negatively related to the major term, and
the vyāpti is arrived at through the method of agreement in absence, there
being no instance of their agreement in presence. For example:
What is not-different from other elements has no smell.
The earth has smell.
Therefore, the earth is different from other elements.
Here smell is the differentia of “earth.” In this inference, the smell is coextensive with earth, and there is no instance of the middle term “smell” with any
term except the minor term, i.e., earth.
In the third, the middle term is both positively and negatively related to the
major term. For example:
All smoky things have fre.
This hill has smoke.
Therefore, this hill has fre.
And
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No non-fery thing has smoke.
This hill has smoke.
Therefore, this hill is not non-fery, i.e., this hill has fre.
In this inference, vyāpti is based on a universal relation between the presence
and the absence of the middle and the major terms.
Comparison or Analogy (Upam āna)
Let us now turn to the third pram āṇa, i.e., upam āna. Etymologically, the word
“upam āna” is derived from “upa” meaning “similarity” and “m āna” meaning
“cognition”; so, upam āna is “knowledge by similarity.”18 Upam āna gives us
knowledge of something based on similarity with an object which was already
known. So, upam āna is the instrument of resulting knowledge (upamiti).19
As a pram āṇa, it is the means of proving or making known what is to be
known based on similarity with an object that is already well known. Consider an example in which a person has never seen a gavaya and does not know
what it looks like, but he has heard from his friend that a gavaya looks like a
cow. Later, he sees an animal much like but not quite a cow. He then remembers what his friend told him: Namely, that a gavaya looks like a cow. The person then realizes that the name gavaya is associated with this particular object.
Thus, in upam āna, based on similarity with an object which is already known,
e.g., “as the cow, so the gavaya,” we have the knowledge that the animal known
as “gavaya” is just like the cow. Such analogies are of immense value and provide useful practical knowledge.20
Of the nine systems of Indian philosophy, M ī māṁ sakas and Advaita
Ved ā nta schools recognize upam āna as a separate pram āṇa, but the C ā rv ā kas,
Jainas, S āṁ khya, and Vai śeṣika include it in one of the three pram āṇas, viz.,
perception, inference, and testimony. For example, the Jainas reduce it to
recognition, the Buddhists to perception and testimony, and the S āṁ khya
and the Vai śeṣika schools to inference. The Naiy āyikas argue that we cannot obtain the knowledge gained by upam āna from either perception or inference. The process of the knowledge by similarity consists of the following
steps:
1
2
3
I have not seen the animal known as gavaya before;
I have heard that there is such an animal and that animal looks like a
cow; and
I have already seen a cow and known what a cow looks like.
When these conditions are met, and when I see an animal that I have never
seen before, I notice the similarity of this animal with a cow; I then recollect
that a gavaya resembles a cow and arrive at the judgment “this is a gavaya.”
Knowledge by comparison always assumes the form “as…so,” which is
used to express similarity, e.g., “as the cow, so the gavaya.”21 Inference never
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T H E N YĀYA D A R Ś A N A
assumes a similar form, e.g., “as the smoke, so the fre”;22 so, it is not inferential knowledge. Therefore, upam āna must be accorded the status of an independent pram āṇa.
Verbal Testimony (Śabda)
Śabda is “verbal knowledge,” derived from words and sentences. Śabda as a
pram āṇa, i.e., as a source of valid cognition, refers to the authoritative verbal
testimony (āptavākya), the sentences uttered by a trustworthy person (āpta). Such
a person knows the truth,23 speaks the truth, and truth completely accords
with the object as it exists in reality ( yath ārtha).24 So, a person is āpta, when the
words uttered by him truly represent the nature of the object ( yath ārtha śābdabodhah), and a verbal testimony (śābdabodhah) is truth ( yath ārtha) when it represents the thing as it is. It is not enough that the testimony is reliable, but it
is important that one clearly understand the meaning of the sentence uttered
by an āpta person.
A sentence is a collection of words which has the power to convey its meaning. To acquire knowledge from a reliable testimony, one must understand
the meanings of the words. A word or pada is a collection of syllables or var ṇas.
Here a collection signifes “being the object of a cognition.”25 Such a sentence,
when uttered by a person who knows, is a pram āṇa (means of true cognition).
Therefore, śabda as a source of valid cognition consists in understanding the
meaning of words uttered by an āpta (trustworthy) person. Thus, we have
(1) written or spoken testimony of a trustworthy person, (2) understanding of
the meaning of the words uttered by such a person, and (3) verbal knowledge
of the objects under consideration.
To be intelligible, a sentence must meet certain conditions.26 These are
“āk āṅk ṣā” or expectation or mutual implication, “yog yat ā” or ftness or suitability, “sannidhi” or nearness or proximity, and “t ātparya” or intention.27
A mere random group of words does not make a sentence, because they are
not related by “āk ānk ṣā” or expectation. The words “cow, horse, man” do not
form a sentence, because the words do not arouse expectations. The words
must be related in such a manner that they need each other to make sense.
Thus, “the knowledge of the connected meaning (of a sentence in which it
occurs) is what constitutes (its) expectancy.”28
The second condition outlines the ftness of the words to convey the meaning and not contradict each other; it “is the absence of incompatibility of
sense.”29 If someone says, “sprinkle the grass with fre,” we do not have a
sentence, for the word “sprinkle” arouses an expectation which “fre” is not
appropriate or ft to fulfll.
“Proximity is the utterance of words without (inordinate) delay.”30 Again,
even if the words are appropriate, they must be uttered in quick succession.
Uttering words at long intervals do not constitute a sentence. Thus, the words
“bring --------a----------glass--------of---------water” do not make a sentence.
The point that is being made is as follows: The utterances must be close
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
enough to constitute a sentence. The words—when they arouse expectations,
are appropriate, and are uttered in quick succession—constitute a sentence.
For example, “I am going to King of Prussia Mall to shop for a dress.”
Finally, the Naiyāyikas maintain that the intention of the speaker is “t ātparya.”31 To know the desire of the speaker is crucial to an understanding of
the import of a sentence; the intention of the speaker is especially relevant,
where various literal meanings are possible (as in “bring saindhava,” the word
“saindhava” means both “horse” and “salt”). It is important to know what the
speaker intends. If a man is eating dinner, he wants salt, not a horse.
The Naiyāyikas interpretation of t ātparya is different from the Advaitin interpretation. The Advaitins defne t ātparya “as the competency to generate a
cognition.”32 The sentence “there is a pitcher in the house” has the capacity
to produce a cognition of the relation between the pitcher and the house,
and not a cognition of the relation between the house and a piece of cloth.
Hence, “that” in the defnition signifes the relation between the pitcher and
the house and not between, say, the cloth and the house.
Śabda as a pram āṇa, argue the Naiyāyikas, is of two kinds: Human or ordinary (laukika) and divine or extraordinary (alaukika).33 Laukika testimony is
the word of a reliable human person and the alaukika is divine testimony, the
words of the Vedas, i.e., God’s utterances. Human testimony is fallible, but the
divine testimony is infallible.
In sum, śabda or word is an important pram āṇa. It is the means we use to
come to know about things, simply by hearing sentences uttered by a competent speaker. We learn about physics, about history, by listening to the lectures
of competent physicists or historians respectively. We learn about contemporary events by reading reliable reports. This kind of knowing occupies a central place in Indian epistemologies—partly because it is by this means that
we learn about what we ought to do, or how we ought to lead our lives, about
dharma and adharma, from the Vedic discourses, to name a few. This kind of
knowing is at times criticized as being dogmatic acceptance of the authority,
but this hasty criticism fails to recognize its ubiquitous indispensability for our
knowledge of the world. Just imagine what a small fragment of the world we
would be restricted to, if we relied exclusively upon perception and inference.
In refecting on the relative strength and weaknesses of the different
pram āṇas, we see that the Naiyāyikas regard perception to be stronger than inference. Vātsyāyana in his bh āṣya34 recognizes that all the pram āṇas ultimately
rest on perception: Inference is that knowledge which is preceded by perception (tatp ūrvaka ṁ);35 upam āna is based on the perception of similarities between
two objects; and śabda depends on perception insofar as it involves visual or
auditory perception of written or spoken words. With regard to the supersensible entities, inference is stronger than perception, and śabda is stronger
than inference, śabda is the strongest in cases of what ought to be done. It is
worth noting that the Naiyāyikas believe that the same object can be known
by perception, inference, and śabda (pram āṇasa ṁplava). The Buddhists, in contrast, believe that to the specifc types of objects, there correspond specifc
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pram āṇas (pram āṇavyavasth ā). In general, the Vedic philosophers believed in
pram āṇasa ṁplava, i.e., the thesis that the same object is knowable by different
pram āṇas, e.g., by perception, inference, and by śabda.
The Nature of Knowledge
We have examined the four pram āṇas that the Nyāya recognizes. Now we will
turn our attention to the general nature of “knowledge.” Knowledge is known
as “anubh ūti” or “ jñ āna.” According to Nyāya, “consciousness” and “knowledge” are synonyms36; not so, however, in other Indian systems of philosophy.
Nyāya also differs from the spiritual (ādhyātmika) philosophies in regarding
consciousness as a quality (gu ṇa) produced in a self (ātman) only when the self is
embodied and there is appropriate contact of the sense organs with the object.
Without a functioning body, there is no consciousness; there is no consciousness in the state of deep dreamless sleep. However, despite the dependence
on the bodily functions, consciousness does not exhibit characteristics that
are uniquely its own. Like a beam of light, it “shows up” or manifests whatever it falls on. It is also intrinsically of-an-object, there being no objectless
consciousness.
Knowledge is not an action, to know is not to act. Given that it arises in
the self when certain conditions are fulflled, knowledge is not an essential
quality of the self. However, only an embodied self can know. Contrary to the
position of the spiritual philosophies—the Sāṃ khya-Yoga, the Buddhists, and
the Vedānta—the Nyāya does not regard consciousness as self-manifesting.
It only manifests its object. Since it is not its own object, it cannot manifest
itself. It is manifested, known, made aware of, only by another subsequent,
knowledge. Thus, we have a knowledge K1 whose object is O1. K1 manifests
O1. After K1 has occurred, there may follow an introspective knowledge of
K1. Let us call it K 2; K1 is then manifested to the self.
K1 has the form “this is a jar.”
K 2 would have the form “I know that this is a jar.”37
Knowledge or cognition is of two kinds: Those that are “valid” ( pram ā) and
those that are not (apram ā). Valid knowledge or cognition (pram ā) is of four
kinds, depending upon the causal process by which a knowledge arises, which
we have already discussed. Invalid knowledge or cognition is of three kinds:
Error, doubt, and hypothetical argument.38
Invalid knowledge
Error
Perceiving a rope as a snake and a shell as silver are instances of errors. To
explain the erroneous cognition of silver, the Naiyāyikas postulate a relation
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
of identity between the object before us and the remote silver. They argue
that the relation of inherence that exists between the “silver” and the “silverness” is also apprehended in the “this” and the “silverness.” The silver
perceived in a jewelry store sometime in the past is perceived through jñ ānalak ṣa ṇasannikarṣa (perception by complex association or complication), one of
the extra-empirical contacts recognized by the Naiyāyikas. Thus, the shell is
mistaken for silver. Falsity consists in associating silver with the shell where it
does not exist. Neither of them is unreal. The goal of the Nyāya theory is to
demonstrate that error, like truth, has an objective referent. It is neither the
Mādhyamika asatkhyāti, i.e., the perception of nonexistence,39 nor the M īm āṃsā
akhyāti, i.e., wrong perception.40 All knowledge claims, irrespective of whether
true or false, are referential. It is only the false prediction of “that” as “what”
(i.e., silver) which is subsequently corrected, but never the “that” itself.
Doubt
Doubt, being uncertain knowledge, cannot be pram ā. Gautama in NS defnes
doubt as follows: “Doubt is a wavering judgment about the nature of an object
which is due to the cognition of common qualities present in many objects, or
of qualities not present in any of the objects, from conficting views, and lack of
uniformity in apprehension and non-apprehension.”41 In other words, doubt is
that wavering judgment in which the certainty about the specifc character of
any object is lacking, and the mind vacillates between mutually contradictory
descriptions of the same thing, each of which is possible.42 A thing is known in
general terms, but there is no apprehension of its specifc nature. The Nyāya
literature discusses the ways and conditions under which doubts occur; there
are different alternatives available but no discernment of any specifc mark or
characteristic to decide among the conficting alternatives resulting in a doubt
assuming the form, “is this a man or a tree (“sth āṇuraya ṃpuru ṣo vā”)?”
Doubt precedes the exercise of nyāya, that is, of the different means of
knowing to ascertain the nature of a thing and remove doubt. It is arguable
that doubt and the effort to remove the doubt are rational activities, though
Mohanty argues that the Nyāya sa ṃśaya is a perceptual doubt, whereas the
Cartesian doubt is an intellectual doubt.43 However, here one must not lose
sight of the fact that the resolution of doubt involves seeing things more clearly
and differentiating them from other objects; the resolution of doubt is a rational activity.
Tarka (Hypothetical Argument)
Tarka in NS is a kind of indirect proof to ascertain the true nature of a thing.44
It is a kind of hypothetical argument, which is an indirect way of justifying a
conclusion. It demonstrates that the presumed hypothesis to prove the conclusion leads to absurdity.45 Tarka, an intellectual cognition, produced by desire
assumes the following form: “If smoke could exist in a locus which does not
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have fire, then smoke could not be caused by fire.” The question is: Whether
any absurdity would result if one accepts the given conclusion or rejects it as
false. This kind of argument removes any doubt in the vyāpti, e.g., “wherever
there is smoke, there is fire,” and, as a result, strengthens the inference that
proves the presence of fire upon perceiving smoke.
Let me again use the standard example employed in most Sanskrit texts to
explain tarka: In looking through the bay window of my house, I see smoke
coming out of the house across the street and say that the house across the
street is on fre. A friend sitting next to me argues that there is no fre; there
is only smoke; in response, I advance a tarka: “if there could be smoke without there being fre, then one could produce smoke without fre, which is
absurd.”46
It is important to remember in this context that tarka does not give rise to
true knowledge, i.e., it is not a pram āṇa, because one of its premises, the assumption of the contradictory of the conclusion, is false. It confrms a pram āṇa;
it is an aid to pram āṇa. This process of indirect proof in the Nyāya roughly
corresponds to reductio ad absurdum of Western logic.
A knowledge is valid or pram ā when it arises by an appropriate pram āṇa
and agrees with its object. A pram āṇa is thus both the proper cause of a valid
cognition and its justifcation. This unique combination of a causal theory
and a justifcation theory of knowledge is almost unique in the history of
philosophy.
Nyāya Theory of Truth
To discuss the theory of truth in Nyāya, I will begin, following Kant, by distinguishing between the nominal meaning of the “truth” and the real, universally valid criterion of truth. The Naiyāyikas, unlike Advaitins, accept the
nominal meaning of truth, i.e., if a thing is such and such, to know it as being
such and such is true. If a thing has the property of p, to know that it is p is true
and to know that it is not-p would be false.47 However, as soon as we ask how
to determine the truth of a cognition, philosophers give different answers.
According to some, the criterion of truth is the ability to give rise to successful
practice.48
The Naiyāyikas argue that whereas a true cognition corresponds to its object and leads to successful activity, a false cognition does not correspond to
its object and leads to failure and disappointment. Suppose you are baking a
bread and need salt; you see a white powdered substance before you, and prior
to putting it in the batter, you take a pinch of it, put it in your mouth, and upon
tasting, realize that it is salt. On another occasion, while looking for salt when
you are baking a cake, you fnd out that the white substance you see before
you is not salt, but sugar. The Naiyāyikas argue that whereas the truth and the
falsity of a cognition depends on the correspondence and non-correspondence
to facts respectively, the test of its truth and falsity consists in inference
from success and failure of our daily activities in relation to the object sought.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
A true cognition gives rise to a successful activity, a false cognition to failure
and disappointment.
Regarding the question whether truth (also falsity) of a cognition is svataḥ
or intrinsic to the cognition or extrinsic, i.e., parataḥ, the Naiyāyikas hold that
both the truth and the falsity are extrinsic or parata ḥ. In other words, when a
knowledge arises from the causal conditions which produce it, it is not eo ipso
true, nor it is from the very beginning known to be true (or false as the case
may be). Truth needs a special causal condition for it to arise, i.e., some special
excellence in the generating conditions, just as falsity is produced by some special defect in them. In other words, when the Naiyāyikas state that the truth
and the falsity are extrinsic, they mean that the cognitions are not self-manifesting and that the properties that produce the cognitions are different from
the factors that are responsible for producing the truth and the falsity of the
cognitions. When a cognition comes into being, it simply manifests its object,
but not itself (as stated earlier), so it does not know its own truth or falsity. It
is only subsequently that the knower infers based on the success (or failure) of
the action whether his knowledge was true (or false). Thus, according to the
Nyāya, practical success (or failure) is the criterion of truth (or falsity). A cognition is true when it corresponds to the nature of its object; it is false, when
it does not. The Advaitins, however, maintain that both truth and falsity are
intrinsic.49
III Nyāya Pad ārthas (Categories)
As stated earlier, Gautama mentions sixteen pad ārthas.50 They are (1) pram āṇas
(means of true cognition), (2) prameya (object of cognition), (3) sa ṃśaya (doubt),
(4) prayojana (the objective or purpose), (5) dṛṣṭānta (familiar example),
(6) siddh ānta (conclusive view), (7) avayava (member), (8) nir ṇaya (ascertainment),
(9) vāda (discussion, controversy), (10) jalpa (rejoinder or wrangling), (11) vita ṇḍā
(cavil, quibbling, mere criticism without having own position), (12) tarka
(hypothetical argument), (13) hetvābh āsa (fallacy of the hetu or the middle term),
(14) chala (misleading interpretation, a kind of equivocation), (15) jāti (legitimate objection, futile argument), and (16) nigrahasth āna (defciency, the ground
of defeat).51 Gautama accords the sixteen categories equal status; at a minimum the categories provide a conceptual framework within which the
Naiyāyikas philosophical discourse took place.
Of the sixteen categories, I have already discussed pram āṇas (means of true
cognition, #1), doubt, (#3), and tarka (#12) in the previous section. I will, in
this section, review the remaining thirteen pad ārthas, and begin with #2.
2
At the outset of his NS, Gautama informs his readers that pram āṇa is the
instrument and prameyas are the objects of right cognition.52 Both pram āṇa
and prameya are k āraka words, i.e., the words that express noun functions
and conform to the nature of nouns. Their function is contingent upon
the circumstances. For example, in the Gautama’s list self is numbered as
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one of the prameyas because it is not only an object of cognition, but also a
cognizer.53
Gautama in his NS lists twelve prameyas.54 These are (1) the self (ātm ā),
(2) the body, (3) the senses, (4) the objects of the senses, (5) cognition
(buddhi) or apprehension, (6) mind (manas) or the inner sense, (7) activity
(pravṛtti), (8) defects, (9) rebirth after death (pretyabh āva) which is the result
of our good or bad actions, (10) fruition, (11) pain, and (12) release.
The omniscient self is the seer, the enjoyer and the experiencer of
all things. The body is the place of its enjoyment and suffering, and
the sense organs are the instruments for enjoyment and suffering.
Enjoyment and suffering are cognitions (of pleasure and pain). The
inner sense or manas is that by which can know all objects. Cognition (buddhi), knowledge ( jñ āna) and apprehension (upalabdhi) are
synonymous. Action ( prav ṛtti) causes pleasure and pain; so, do the
do ṣas (defects), namely, passion, envy, and attachment. The self had
previous bodies than this one, and will occupy other bodies after
this one, until the achievement of “mok ṣa.” This beginningless succession of birth and death is rebirth. Experiences of pleasure and
pain, along with their instruments, i.e., the body, the sense organs,
etc., are the ‘fruit’ ( phala). “Pain” is inseparably connected with
“pleasure.” To achieve mok ṣa or apavarga, one should realize that all
happiness is pain—which will result in detachment, and, eventually freedom. 55
4 Prayojana56 or purpose or an end-in-view is the object for which we act:
Either to desire it or to shun it. In other words, there is some goal, which
we think we should reach or shun, and this determination or purpose
leads to an application of nyāya. The primary purpose is the attainment
of happiness and the removal of dukkha; however, everything that leads to
the realization of the primary purpose can also function as a secondary
or subsidiary purpose.
5 D ṛṣṭānta or familiar example represents an undisputed fact that illustrates
a general rule.57 It is that entity regarding which there is an agreement
between both parties, i.e., between ordinary persons and critical thinkers. In other words, the ordinary persons and the critical thinkers using
logic must agree regarding something, and only such an agreed entity
that can be used as an example. In other words, when one argues that the
hill must be fery because it is smoky, the kitchen may be an example of
that in which one sees smoke accompanied by fre. Example thus is a very
important and necessary part of the Nyāya reasoning; it is a component
of the Nyāya fve-membered syllogism discussed earlier.
6 Siddh ānta or the conclusive view is the doctrine which belongs to a śāstra
or a discipline or a science.58 Conclusion is the defnite ascertainment of
an entity. It is accepted as true in a tradition or school. Gautama divides
it into four kinds59:
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
7
8
9
10
11
• sarvatantra siddh ānta (all-accepted conclusive view), not disputed by any
school, is that which is accepted by all parties, including one’s own
school;
• pratitantra siddh ānta (conclusive view of one of the schools) is that which
is established only by one of the schools and its allies;
• adhikara ṇa siddh ānta (ground conclusive view) is the support or the
ground doctrine on which we establish the property of a given thing;
however, frst, we must establish another property of it. For example,
the Naiyāyikas argue for the omniscience of the creator by frst establishing that an agent initially makes a binary combination of the atoms
possible; and
• abhyupagama siddh ānta (presumed conclusive view) is the provisional
acceptance of a conclusion of the other. For example, when the opponent, in this case the M īmāṃsakas, establish that sound is a substance,
the Naiyāyikas respond as follows: “We are not going to challenge this
thesis; however, for the sake of discussion let us take the thesis—either
sound is eternal or non-eternal—for granted.” The hope is that the
idea of the substantiality of sound will eventually be refuted if both
alternatives (eternal and non-eternal) are set aside. Such a provisional
acceptance of a conclusion of another party is called “abhyupagama siddh ānta,” which clearly has the structure of a hypothetical argument of
the form “if S then either p or not-p,” but if both alternatives, p and
not-p, are shown not to apply, then the hypothesized premise must be
wrong.
Avayava means “member” or “premise.” A syllogism consists of fve members or premises. I have already discussed members in the context of the
fve members of an inference.
Nir ṇaya is the ascertainment of the truth attained by pram āṇas (means of
true cognition) and tarka (hypothetical argument).60 It represents the removal of all preceding doubts, after an examination of the views for or
against a doctrine.
Vāda stands for analytic consideration to ascertain the truth.61 Similar to
nir ṇaya, it also proceeds with the help of pram āṇas and tarka and uses arguments which are stated formally in the form of a fve-membered syllogism. The goal is not to refute any established theory but rather to arrive
at the truth. In vāda, each of the parties involved in a discussion—the proponent as well as the opponent—attempts to establish his own position
and refute the position of the other.
Jalpa is wrangling in which both parties involved aim to defeat each
other, but there is no attempt to ascertain the truth.62 Given that the goal
is to defeat others, it involves the use of invalid arguments and reasons.
(Lawyers usually use such arguments.)
Vita ṇḍā is a kind of debate in which the proponent does not aim to establish his own position, but simply aims to refute the position of the
others.63 Thus, whereas in jalpa each party’s goal is to establish his/her
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13
14
15
16
respective position and to gain victory over the other, in vita ṇḍā, each
party tries to win by simply refuting the position of the other. It roughly
approximates “sophistry” of Western logic.
Hetvābh āsas: Gautama defnes “hetvābh āsas” as a “fallacious probans” because they do not possess all the characteristics of true probans, but they
seem suffciently similar to probans (hetu or middle term).64 Hetvābh āsa is
not a defective hetu (middle term), but rather a “seeming” or a “pseudo”
hetu. The existence of a hetvābh āsa prevents an inference from taking
place. Let me give an illustrative example: The inference “the hill has
smoke because it has fre” is fallacious because the relationship between
the hetu (smoke) and the sādhya (major term, fre) is not invariable. That is,
though the hetu fre is present wherever smoke (sādhya) is present, it is also
present where smoke is absent. In other words, the hetu fre is present both
in a similar and in a contrary instance: There is fre on the hill which possesses smoke (a similar instance); and it is also present in a red-hot iron,
which lacks smoke (a contrary instance). Given that the hetu is present in
a contrary instance, it lacks invariable concomitance with the sādhya fre.
So, the hetu impedes the emergence of the right cognition of vyāpti, the invariable concomitance.65 This is the fallacy of “common” (sādh āra ṇa) hetu
in the sense that it is common to both a similar and a contrary instance.
Thus, in an inferential process hetvābh āsas do not bear so much upon the
form or the structure of the inference as upon the possibility of the resulting cognitions, which once obtained stops the inferential process.
In chala one of the parties to a dispute—after failing to give a good argument against his opponent—advances irrelevant or pseudo replies.66
Here one tries to contradict another person’s argument by giving an unfair reply. The respondent contradicts a statement by taking it in a sense
other than the one the speaker intended. In other words, when a person,
say, X, cannot respond to a fairly strong argument that Y provides, X
may contradict Y’s statement by taking it in a sense that was not intended.
For example, Y may say “nava-kambala” meaning that the boy has a new
blanket, and X unfairly objects and points out that the boy has nine blankets, because the compound “nava-kambala” is ambiguous.
Jāti stands for all those futile arguments advanced by one party against
the other, which instead of destroying the opponent’s position really contradicts the position of the one who advances those arguments.67 It consists in advancing a futile argument based on similarity or dissimilarity
between things. For example, in trying to meet the argument “sound, being an effect, is non-eternal, like a jar,” the opponent may argue that the
sound is eternal like sky because “sound shares with the sky the property
of being incorporeal.” This is jāti. The Naiyāyikas enumerate twenty-four
jātis.
Nigrahasth āna 68 is the last entity in the Gautama’s list. “Nigraha” means
“defeat” and “sth āna” means “place,” so that it leads to the fnal defeat of
the proponent or the opponent. It includes different kinds of arguments
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
resulting in the fnal defeat of one of the parties. Gautama in the second
chapter of the NS lists twenty-two such arguments.
This list of the entities (it must be clear that these are entities in a highly abstract sense) shows what really occurs between the parties of a dispute, beginning with doubt and ending with ascertainment of truth, defeat of one of the
parties and the victory of the other. Such an argumentative tradition, since
ancient times, was an integral part of the rational discourse of Indian philosophers. It must also be evident that the concept of reason implicit in these
discussions makes reason inseparable from proper, precise, goal-oriented use
of language and the intersubjective discourse.
IV Self, Bondage, and Liberation
In the chapter on the Upaniṣads, we saw that it takes cit or consciousness to be
the same as ātman. For the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika school, however, ātman includes
both the fnite individual selves (and souls) and the infnite soul, i.e., God. It is
worth repeating that in the list of prameyas (discussed in the previous section)
ātm ā appears frst, and the list also includes the body, the sense organs, the objects (of these senses), intellect (buddhi), mind (manas), action, (pravṛtti), defects
(do ṣa), the succession of birth and death (pretyabh āva), fruits (phala), suffering
(dukkha), and release (mok ṣa).
Vātsyāyana states that the self is the seer, the enjoyer, and the experiencer of
all things and the body is the locus of activity, senses, and object.69 The goal
of any activity is to promote what is good and shun what is not conducive to
good. Activity does not belong to inanimate objects; it can only belong to a
fnite body. Similarly, body is the locus of the sense organs, and in so asserting, NSBh is emphasizing not the object per se, but pleasure and pain they
produce. In other words, pleasure and pain belong to the self when limited
by a body.
After this list of entities, the next s ūtra proceeds to inform us how the “self”
(or ātman) is known.70 We are informed that the self is too “subtle”; it cannot be
perceived by any of the senses. Such judgments as “I am happy,” “I am sad”
do not provide any knowledge of the true nature of the self. Thus, the question
arises: How is the self known? The Naiyāyikas argue that the self is inferred
from the qualities of pleasure, pain, desire, hatred, effort, and consciousness.
These six are the specifc qualities of the self and they belong only to the self.
Of these six, desire, effort, and consciousness belong to both fnite selves and
the infnite self, i.e., God; hatred and pain belong only to the fnite selves; and
the sixth, namely, happiness, belongs to both the fnite individuals and God,
though God’s happiness is eternal, while the happiness of fnite individuals is
non-eternal.
The Naiyāyikas take great pains to demonstrate that consciousness is a
quality neither of the body, nor of the sense organs, nor of an action; it is rather
a quality of the self, which exists independently, and is different from the body,
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the senses, mind, and consciousness. The self, on their theory, is eternal; it is
neither produced nor destroyed. Though consciousness is a quality of the self,
it nevertheless is not an essential quality of the self, which explains why in
deep sleep or coma one does not possess consciousness; so, the self may exist
without consciousness. The self, however, can have consciousness under suitable conditions, which arises in a self when the appropriate causal conditions
are present, i.e., when the self comes in contact with the mind, the mind with
the senses, and the senses with external objects. (These contacts are needed in
all kinds of cognition, including testimony and inference.) In other words, the
self, though eternal, is by itself unconscious, and so is not different from such
material objects as table and chair, except for the fact that the self alone can
have consciousness.
In the state of liberation, the soul is released from all pain and suffering. In
this state the soul does not have any connection with the body. So long as the
soul is associated with a body and the senses, it is not possible for it to attain
liberation. If the body and the sense organs are there, there would be contact
with the undesirable objects giving rise to the feelings of pleasure and pain.
Once the association between the body and the soul is severed, the soul would
have neither pleasurable nor painful experiences. Liberation is the cessation
of pain; it is absolute freedom from pain. It is the summum bonum, the supreme
good, in which the soul is free from fear, decay, change, death, and rebirth; it
is bliss forever.
True knowledge of the distinction between the self and the not self is essential to attain liberation. To gain this knowledge, one must hear (śrava ṇa) the
great sayings of the scriptures about the self, establish it by manana (refective
thinking), and meditate on the self (nididhyāsana) following yogic techniques
and practices. When one realizes that the self is distinct from the body, one
ceases to be attracted by material things, one is no longer under the infuence
of desires and passions that prompt an individual to undertake wrong actions
and steer them in the wrong direction. One’s past karmas are exhausted, the
connection with the body ceases, there is no pain, and that is mok ṣa.
V Concluding Remarks
So far, I have given a quick sketch of the Nyāya epistemology and ontology.
The school provides a conceptualization of our ordinary concept of the world
as consisting of many things. Perhaps, this pluralism, we can safely say, is
based on the way the Naiyāyikas use the category of difference.
I will highlight important features of the Nyāya logic before concluding this
chapter.
1
Western formal logic ever since Aristotle has concerned itself with laying down the principles of formal validity, such that a perfectly valid
syllogism may have false premises and a false conclusion. However, to
my knowledge, from the beginning, Indian logic never entertained this
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
2
freedom of formal thinking from all constraints of material truth. The
Indian syllogism, if I may call it “syllogism,” is not simply concerned
with the formal validity of an inference, but also with the material truth
of the premises. They introduce, besides the middle, the major, and the
minor terms of the Aristotelian syllogism, a fourth term, d ṛṣṭānta, i.e.,
example, and accordingly a premise, which is “existential instantiation”
(EI). This requirement rules out the possibility of considering only formal validity to the utter exclusion of material truth. These innovations
and their consequences make the Naiy āyika theory of inference a part
of the theory of knowledge; it becomes a theory of how based on the
present perception and past experiences we can extend our knowledge
to new cases.
The idea of mere thinking as distinguished from knowing did not play
an important role. Indian logicians did not develop purely symbolic logic
independent of content in its logical analysis. Even Nyāya, in its later
phase, i.e., in the Navya-Nyāya tradition, during the time of Ga ṅgeśa,
elaborated language to accurately express the premises of a syllogism.
However, they applied the tools and the technique to propositions and
objects from every domain, for example, perception, religion, aesthetics,
and law. To elaborate further, I will consider the simplest case of a perceptual datum, a physical object having a sensory quality, for example,
color. Let me choose for my example, a blue jar in front of me. I normally
describe it by saying that “this jar is blue.” The Navya-Nyāya believed
that it is necessary to make use of certain special techniques to describe
this object accurately. The purpose was to fnd an exact expression which
is true of this and only this object and did not extend to other objects not
intended. An ontological analysis of the blue jar would yield such entities
as substance, a color, and the relation between the two. Navya-Nyāya
focused not on the ontological analysis but on the cognition “this jar is
blue.” In this analysis, there are two guides: The linguistic articulation,
and my inner perception or experience of that outer perception. An analysis of cognition reveals that all the components of the cognition are not
articulated; there are unarticulated cognitive contents.
There are on the Navya-Nyāya account three kinds of cognitive contents: Those which function as the substantives or qualifcandum; those
which function as predicates, sometimes called “qualifers” (vi ṣayat ā); and
those which function as relations. On the Navya-Nyāya theory, the word
“this” which articulates a content does not articulate what points to another content, namely “thisness.” So, the content “this” functions as qualifed by “thisness,” but “thisness” is not an expressed content, because
if it were so, then it would point to another unexpressed content, riding
on its back as it were, such as “thisness.” Likewise, the content “ jar” is
qualifed by the content “ jarness” (gha ṭatva), though it is not linguistically
articulated. The same characterizes “blue.” So, in this cognition “this” is
qualifed by “thisness,” pitcher by “pitcherness,” and blue by “blueness,”
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which is discerned when we understand the language or the meaning of
the words. Accordingly, we have three complex contents:
a
b
c
3
4
“this “qualifed by “thisness,”
“pitcher” qualifed by “pitcherness,” and
“blue” qualifed by “blueness.”
The entire expression “this pitcher is blue” articulates not these three
complex contents, but a unitary content in which these three appear in a
certain order by a chain of epistemic, not ontological, relations. Like all
relations, though not articulated, we must posit them to account for the
unity of meaning. The Navya-Nyāya here introduces many such relations
among cognitive contents, and they go on expanding and positing these
appropriate epistemic relations. The entire complex content and the appropriate relations belong to a cognition which belongs to a self.
The Navya-Nyāya uses this technique to analyze inferential cognitions, and cognitions derived from language alone. Entering into more
complexities, the system uses more effectively negations and negative
descriptions to exclude what was not intended rather than to positively
describe what was intended.
There is no need to detail for beginning students of Indian logic the
complexities of the Navya-Nyāya technical language; however, the above
will give students a favor of the Navya-Nyāya technique and highlight an
important difference with the Western symbolic logic.
The Naiyāyikas also inform us that we perceive universals under appropriate conditions. Shall we then say that the Nyāya position is still an
unmitigated empiricism? It is also worth remembering that the notion
of sensory contacts goes far beyond perceiving universals. In an instance
of extraordinary perception that “the snow is cold,” the Naiyāyikas hold
that one visually perceives that snow is cold. The Naiyāyikas do not stop
here. They further argue that I perceive not only the snow, but also the
snowness present in it, and, that in such a perceptual cognition, I also
see all other individuals in whom the same universal is present. So, the
Naiyāyika account of perception is not empirical in the strictly Humean
sense.
Does the knowledge gained, say, in an inference, go beyond the sensory
input? In an inference, for example, one sees a column of smoke on a distant hill, remembers the generalization having seen their co-presence in
his own kitchen, recognizes that the present perceived smoke falls under
the generalization, and infers that there is fre on that hill. The questions
worth refecting are: In this sequence of cognitive events, which steps
are necessitated causally by the preceding sensory inputs? Alternately, is
there a step where cognition goes beyond the data in the causal chain?
A review of the fve constituents of the inference reveals “wherever there
is smoke there is fre.” It is a new realization of the cognitive process
as it goes beyond the data and anticipates possible future experiences.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
Another cognitive step, which is not a mere causal sequence, is the application (nigamana) of that generalization to the present case. The point is: It
is at these crevices the Naiyāyikas go beyond the purely empiricist understanding of
cognition.
The above discussion informs us that in Indian thought the logical and the
real do not constitute two different worlds; they are mixed together in such a
manner that the logical, though arising out of the real, creates the semblance
that it is a separate structure. There is no stand-alone rationality, i.e., no rationality independent of or detached from the empirical, and no empirical
that does not exhibit a logical structure.
Study Questions
1. Explain the nature of knowledge according to Nyāya.
2. Explain the distinction between pram ā and apram ā. Critically discuss the
three kinds of apram ā.
3. Defne perception. Outline the distinction between the non-conceptual
and the conceptual perception.
4. Explain the fve constituents of the Nyāya inference. How does the Nyāya
account differ from the Aristotelian syllogism? Do you think that the two
premises of the Nyāya inference are superfuous? Give reasons for your
answer.
5. Explain the Nyāya theory of extrinsic validity and invalidity. How does
the Nyāya account differ from the Advaita account?
6. Explain the Nyāya conception of the self, bondage, and liberation. Does
it make sense to say that consciousness is an accidental quality of the self?
Substantiate your position with rational arguments.
7. The sample case given below concerns the darśanas you have studied in
this part of the book. Read the following sample case, and answer questions given below.
A Sample Case: Appeal of Three Brothers to the
Fourth Brother not to Squander his Inheritance
Donald (an atheist, hedonist), Dylan (a follower of M īmāṃsā), Robert (a follower of Sāṃ khya -Yoga doctrines), and Avi (a follower of Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika) are
four brothers. Their grandmother died and left them a large sum of money.
They are having a discussion regarding how best to spend their inheritance.
Donald would like to throw big parties, buy beer for his friends, and waste his
entire fortune. Dylan, Robert, and Avi would like to donate a portion of their
inheritance to charity, designate some funds for scholarships for minorities,
pay long-standing debts, etc. They believe that Donald should be concerned
not about this life only, but about his afterlives. So, the brothers begin educating Donald about their own beliefs and practices, i.e., about karma, rebirth, and
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T H E N YĀYA D A R Ś A N A
mok ṣa (liberation, the state of positive bliss). Donald, being a hedonist and materialist, is strongly opposed to the beliefs and practices of his three brothers.
Donald (Atheist and Hedonist Perspective)
I am a hedonist; I do not believe in the existence of any god or afterlife. There
is no higher goal than pleasure, and there is no better object to be pursued
than desire. All of you believe in the immortality of the soul, but how do you
know that there is a soul, and it is immortal? How do you know that there is afterlife? All of you believe in mok ṣa, but you cannot agree upon how to achieve
it? Theses you are asserting are ambiguous, and, at times, contradictory. He
addresses all three brothers and asks them to elaborate the following theses.
Dylan (Follower of Mīm āṃsā Perspective)
•
•
You perform all sorts of ritualistic actions to go to heaven, to exhaust
accumulated karmas. Therefore, actions are not done without any desire
for the results of the actions.
Ap ūrva–the invisible force, the invisible results of works which accrue to
the doer, the performer of a sacrifce–is a fgment of imagination. To
claim that actions performed now produce an “unseen potency” (ap ūrva)
which yields fruits in the future is meaningless.
Robert (Follower of S āṃkhya Perspective)
•
•
•
You tell me that prak ṛti (the objective principle) is totally autonomous;
however, though prak ṛti is totally other than puru ṣa, it is also “for the sake of
puru ṣa.” Does not this “being for” work against the autonomy of prak ṛti?
It is not plausible to claim that puru ṣa is eternally free, but to strive after
freedom, it gets entangled with prak ṛti.
Liberation as “alone-ness,” a total lack of inter-subjectivity, is not appealing. Why would any person fnd “alone-ness” appealing? Why would you
ask me to pursue it?
Avi (Follower of Nyāya Perspective)
•
•
•
•
You tell me that the self, though eternal, by itself is unconscious. I am
baffed by the Nyāya thesis that consciousness is not an essential quality
of the self.
If consciousness is not an essential quality of the self, then the self is not
different from such material objects as tables, chairs, etc.
When the self’s connection with the body ceases, and one’s past karmas are
exhausted, mok ṣa, the summum bonum—which is bliss forever—is realized.
The concept of “karma” is a fction of imagination. I do not believe in
rebirth, and my bliss is enjoying life on this earth.
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THE ANCIENT DARŚANAS
In your answer, try to alleviate Donald’s concerns and answer his questions.
You are free to formulate your answer in any manner you wish; however;
your goal is to persuade Donald not to squander away his inheritance. It is
important that you include in your answer a discussion of key philosophical
concepts, viz., M īmāṃsā ap ūrva, Sāṁ khya liberation as “alone-ness,” and the
Nyāya conception of the self as eternal, etc.
Suggested Readings
For Nyāya perception, see B. K. Matilal, Perception (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1986). For logic and inference, see B. K. Matilal, The Character of Logic in India (Albany: SUNY Press 1998); Kisor Kumar Chakrabarti, Classical Indian
Philosophy of Mind: The Nyāya Dualist Tradition (Albany: State University of
New York Press, 1999). For English translations, see Sir Ganganatha Jha (tr.),
The Nyāya-S ūtras of Gautama (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1999), Vols. 1–4;
Karl H. Potter (ed.), Encyclopedia of Indian Philosophies, Nyāya-Vai śe ṣika (Delhi:
Motilal Banarsidass, 1977), Vol. 2. Potter’s volume translates some important texts, introduces basic conceptual distinctions, and introduces early
philosophers of this school. For a concise introduction to Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika’s
central epistemological and ontological principles, see Tarka-Sa ṃgraha of
Anna ṃbha ṭṭa with D īpīk ā and Govardhana’s Nyāya-Bodhinī (TSDNB), edited
with critical explanatory notes by Yashwant Vasudev Athalye, Bombay
Sanskrit and Prakrit Series, No. 55 (Bombay: R. N. Dandekar, l963); The
Elements of Indian Logic and Epistemolog y, based on a portion of Tarka-Sa ṃgraha
of Anna ṃbha ṭṭa with D īpīka (TS), with translation and explanatory notes by
Chandrodaya Bhattacharyya (Calcutta: Modern Book Agency Publishers,
1962), §7. The last two works are based on Tarka-Sa ṃgraha of Anna ṃbha ṭṭa;
however, the frst version contains many Sanskrit words in the notes which
might pose problems for a beginner. Students interested in Navya-Nyāya
may consult Stephen Phillips, Epistemolog y in Classical India: The Knowledge
Sources of the Nyāya School (New York: Routledge, 2012).
236
Part VI
SYSTEMS WITH GLOBAL
IMPACT
I The Buddhist Schools
II The Vedānta Darśana
1 Advaita Vedānta
2 Viśiṣṭādvaita
13
THE BUDDHIST SCHOOLS
I Introduction
After the death of the Buddha, Buddhist monks began debating the details of
his teachings and practices, and, as a result of their inability to reach consensus, the basic ethical-philosophical teachings of the Buddha went through a
long process of development. We may think of this as three turns of the dharma
wheel, each turn spanning a period of 500 years. Four Buddhist Councils
convened—the frst, shortly after the death of the Buddha, and the fourth, in
the frst or the second century CE—to formulate the Discipline of the Order,
to debate controversial points, and to clarify and compose doctrines.
Initially, followers of the Buddha were divided into two groups:
Sthavirāvdins (followers of the Doctrine of the Elders) and the Mahā sāṁghikas
(non-professional representatives of the Great Assembly). As the controversy
over interpreting the Buddha’s doctrines continued, Sthavirāvdins and
Mahā sāṁghikas were further divided into more new schools, the most important of which became known as the Sarvā stivādins, i.e., followers of the
doctrine that “all is real.” In fact, the task of the Fourth Council was to arrange and systematize the doctrines of the Sarvā stivādins. However, owing
to doctrinal differences, Buddhist schools continued to proliferate, giving rise
to as many as thirty schools in India, China, Tibet, and Japan. The history
of the origins and development of these divergent sects is too diffcult to trace
here. For our purposes, it is enough to note that these schools were broadly
divided into two branches: The Ther āvāda, also known as Hīnayāna (“Lesser
Vehicle”) school, as it was somewhat pejoratively called by the emerging second branch, i.e., the Mahāyāna (“Greater Vehicle”) school.
The Buddha’s refusal to answer metaphysical questions—Is there a God? Is
soul the same as body? Are the soul and the body different? Is the universe eternal? Is the
universe non-eternal? Is there a God?—created a lot of confusion and dissension
among his followers. Some held that the Buddha’s refusal to address these
questions implied a denial of the existence of God, reality, and the means of
knowing it; some took it to be a sign of empiricism, an approach to talking
about reality that relies upon the observable world only; others found in this
silence grounds for idealism, the position that reality is a mental construct.
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S Y ST E M S W I T H GL OB A L I M PAC T
The Sarvā stivādins argued for the reality of all things;1 they took both the
mental and the non-mental to be real. Regarding how we know of the external world’s existence, the two sub-schools of Sarvā stivāda—the Vaibhāṣika
and the Sautrāntika—were divided. While the Vaibhāṣikas held that we directly perceive the external world, the Sautrāntikas denied this, arguing that
we do not directly perceive external objects but only infer their existence. In
contrast, the Mādhyamikas argued that there is no reality at all, neither mental nor non-mental; all is void (śūnya). The Yog ācārins described reality as a
process of mental construction.
Thus, we have four main schools of Buddhism, which in chronological
order are the Vaibhāṣika, Sautrāntika, Mādhyamika, and Yog ācāra. These
four schools are usually correlated with a familiar, though misleading, distinction2 between the two phases of the Buddhist religious schools mentioned
above, the Hīnayāna and the Mahāyāna. It is traditionally maintained that
the Vaibhāṣikas and the Sautrāntikas belong to the Hīnayāna branch, while
the Mādhyamika and the Yog ācāra belong to the Mahāyāna branch.
In any event, these four schools have much philosophical importance, and,
in such a short exposition as this, it is diffcult to do justice to them. So, without going into the details of the Buddhist hermeneutic, in this chapter, I will
discuss the basic doctrines of these four schools.
II The Vaibhāṣika School of Buddhism
The Abhidharma forms the foundation of this school of Buddhism. This school
is called “Vaibhāṣika” because it follows the commentary Vibhāṣā on Abhidharma
Jñānaprasthāna. The term “abhidharma” literally means “with regard to the doctrine.” In time, however, Abhidharma teachers began systematizing their teachings and came to be known as the “superior” (abhi) “doctrine” (dharma), i.e., the
study of the dharmas. This work also includes a comprehensive description of
the Buddhist doctrines, ranging from cosmology and the theories of perception
to the issues surrounding moral problems, the virtues to be cultivated to attain
nirvāṇa, yogic practices, and the meaning and the signifcance of rebirth. Originating primarily in Kāśhmīr, some of the principal teachers of the Vaibhāṣika
school were Dharmatrāta, Ghoṣaka, Vasumitra, and Buddhadeva.3
The Vaibhāṣikas were realists (dharmas do not depend on consciousness),
pluralists (dharmas are distinct and irreducible), and nominalists (universals
are mere concepts). The characteristic doctrines of this school are discussed
in this essay.
The Vaibhāṣikas hold that we directly perceive the external objects. This
is like the direct, common-sense realism of Western philosophy, according to
which the color that I perceive is itself the color of the object in front of me.
My mind directly knows the external world. We infer fre upon seeing the
smoke because in the past we have perceived smoke and fre together. One
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Fundamental Postulates
1 Everything exists, mental and physical; this includes the three dimensions of time.
2 We directly perceive the external world.
3 Reality is a series of instantaneous events. (“To exist is to be causally effcacious.”)
4 The inner self consists of a series of changing particulars.
5 There is no permanent substance or universal (sām ānya) instantiated in particulars.
6 Basic substantial constituents called “dharmas” are real.
7 Seventy-fve dharmas are mentioned in Abhidharmakośa.
8 Phenomenal existence is constituted by seventy-two dharmas, which
are conditioned by ignorance and which result in suffering.
9 There are three unconditioned dharmas that are not subject to
deflements.
10 There is a real transformation of the conditioned into the unconditioned through the experience of insight.
who has never perceived a fre would not be able to infer fre upon seeing
smoke coming out of a building. The world is real; it exists independently of
our knowledge and perception of it. There is no distinction between the world
as it is and as it appears to us.
One of the most important doctrines of the Vaibhāṣikas is k ṣanikavāda (momentariness), the thesis that everything real is instantaneous. Both mind and
matter are momentary. Becoming is real; there is neither being nor non-being.
Before proceeding, let us pause, and recall the early theory of momentariness. Early Buddhist texts analyze the process of change in terms of arising
and passing away. All compounded (conditioned) things are said to come into
existence and immediately pass out of existence. This traditional theory does
not assert duration, nor a static phase between the arising and the cessation
of existence. This doctrine of momentariness has been interpreted in different
ways by different sects of the Buddhist tradition. Some extend this process
of change to three stages: Origination, passing away or dissolution, and decay or
“change of what exists.”
The Vaibhāṣika school extends the process to four stages—they construe
“decay or change of what exists” as signifying two distinguishable moments:
Existence (duration) and decay. The main premise of the Vaibhāṣika doctrine
of momentariness is that to exist is to be causally efficacious. Everything real arises,
produces its effects, passes away, and is replaced by its successor. Any alleged
permanent substance cannot be causally effcacious, because what is permanent will never arise to produce its effects, nor pass away and be replaced by
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S Y ST E M S W I T H GL OB A L I M PAC T
something else. Insofar as substances are defned as permanent and unchanging, then they cannot exist.
Reality is a series of instantaneous events; there is no permanent substance,
just as there is no universal (sām ānya) instantiated in a class of particulars.
There is only similarity between momentary events, but—mistaking similarity for identity—we regard similar particulars as possessing an identical
feature in common. The illusion is sustained when we give particulars the
same name (“ jar,” “tree,” “river”). The identity of a name together with the
resemblance among particulars creates the illusion of real universals.
Not only the external world but also the alleged inner self consists of a
series of changing particulars. The self, Vaibhāṣikas hold, is not a substance;
it consists of fve different, interconnected, dynamic series of material bodily
changes, thoughts, feelings (vedan ā), volitions and forces (sa ṁsk āras), and events
of consciousness (vijñ āna). These fve series, like fve ropes, are intertwined in
a complicated manner, creating the illusion of an identical inner self. There is
no lasting, underlying substance; the series is held together by causality.
The Vaibhāṣikas accept the reality of the basic substantial constituents
called dharmas.4 In Buddhism, the term usually refers to the teachings of the
Buddha; however, in the abhidharma context, a dharma denotes the basic, most
primary constituent present in experience. An element that cannot be further
analyzed is a real existent and has its own self-nature (svabh āva); it exists “in
and of itself.” A physical object such as a chair, however, is an aggregate of
impermanent, momentary, duration-less dharmas.
Citta
•
•
•
•
The term citta is derived from the Sanskrit verb root cit, meaning
“to think,” and is generally translated as “mind” or “thought.”
Caitta refers to the content of thought (that which is thought).
In early Buddhist literature, citta was used synonymously with
manas (mind) and vijñ āna (consciousness), and it played a central role
in Abhidharma psychological analysis.
Cittam ātra (“mind only”) is one of the important concepts of the
Yog ācāra school. Yogācārins explain citta in terms of an ālaya-vijñ āna or “storehouse consciousness.”
Sarvā stivādins classify citta as one of their seventy-fve dharmas.
Abhidharmakośa discusses seventy-fve dharmas divided into conditioned
(“sa ṁsk ṛta,” literally, “co-operating”) and unconditioned (“asa ṁsk ṛta,” literally,
“non-co-operating”) dharmas.5 The conditioned dharmas arise and perish, but
the unconditioned, such as empty space, are eternal. Conditioned dharmas are
classifed into fve groups: Form (r ūpa), mind (citta), mental faculties, forces not
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THE BUDDHIST SCHOOLS
concomitant with the mind, and unconditioned dharmas. Of these, form (r ūpa)
includes eleven dharmas: Five sense organs, fve sense objects, and unmanifested matter; mind (citta) includes forty-six mental functions and fourteen
forces which are not concomitant with the mind. There are three unconditioned dharmas: Nirvāṇa, empty space (āk āśa), and meditative emptiness of consciousness (apratisa ṃkhyānirodha). In short, dharmas refer to such elements as
mind, matter, reality, and ideas; they refer in general to the basic factors or
elements of experience.
It is not feasible to go into an analysis of the Sarvā stivādin’s seventy-fve
dharmas here. For our purposes, it would suffce to note that the conditioned
dharmas constitute phenomenal existence; they are subject to the law of causality, and in their fow, they co-operate and perpetuate phenomenality. The
unconditioned dharmas, however, are not subject to the causal law.
Dharmas are also classifed into the morally bad and good, the impure and
pure. In this sense, the same dharmas are infuenced by ignorance or wisdom
(prajñ ā). Unconditioned dharmas are pure in the sense that they are free from
deflements (kle śas), which cause body and mind to suffer. Greed, hatred, delusion, pride, wrong view, doubts, sloth, and distractions are the eight deflements, which corrupt any dharma to which they get attached. Conditioned
elements, when defled, taint each other; for example, lust may taint wisdom,
or an object of cognition which arouses passion. Buddhist writers classifed
deflements into one hundred and eight, and proclivities into ninety-eight.
The Vaibhāṣikas hold that the Buddha’s saying “all are impermanent” refers only to the conditioned dharmas, but not to the unconditioned dharmas.
There is a real transformation of the conditioned into unconditioned through
insight. The dharmas conditioned by ignorance cause pain and sorrow, and the
same dharmas—when separated and suppressed by ethical-spiritual discipline
and knowledge—become nirvāṇa and apratisa ṃkhyānirodha (cessation without
a residue). Space (āk āśa), however, neither obstructs nor is obstructed; it is
empty. Thus, these dharmas combine in different ways and account for the
phenomenal existence and the world process.
In keeping with the Sarvā stivādins belief in the existence of everything (sarva
asti), the mental as well as the non-mental, and citing the Buddha’s assertion
that the past, the present, and the future exist, the Vaibhāṣikas argue that not
only the present but the past and the future are also real. They admit six categories of reality: The past, the future, the just arising, the cessation with a residue (pratisa ṃkhyānirodha), the cessation without a residue (apratisa ṃkhyānirodha),
and space (āk āśa). For the existence of the past and the future, they advance
the argument that there cannot be any knowledge, if there is no “objective
support” (ālambana); since there does arise knowledge of the past and the future ālambana, the past and the future must therefore exist.
There is an important philosophical problem with the above position inasmuch as the Vaibhāṣikas tried to combine two seemingly incompatible positions: On the one hand, they accept that nothing is eternal, that all reality is
momentary; on the other hand, they make every moment eternal, inasmuch
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as each dharma, the past and the future, like the present, is or exists. When the
Vaibhāṣikas were asked how they could hold both that an object exists in three
points of time, and that nothing endures, different Vaibhāṣikas gave different
answers. Among these, four are worth noting.6
Vaibh āṣika Buddhist Views of Momentary Existence
•
•
•
•
Dharmatrāta advanced the thesis of differences in forms (bhāvas): An entity, as it passes from the present to the past, remains the same substance
(dravya); only its form (bhava) changes. For example, gold may be fashioned into different forms of jewelry, but the substance remains gold.
Ghoṣaka held that what changes is characteristic or aspect (lak ṣa ṇa),
e.g., a person is attached to a woman, but gradually becomes
non-attached to her.
Vasumitra contended that it is state or position (avasth ā) that changes,
not the substance. This is analogous to the value of the numeral “0”
contingent upon its placement in a numerical expression (e.g., the
hundreds or thousands place).
Buddhadeva held it is the relations that change depending on the
context, not substance. For example, the same woman may be a
daughter in relation to one person, a wife in relation to another, etc.
The frst view looks like the Sāṃ khya position. The three temporal positions are related to three different relations in terms of causal effcacy: When
there is no effcacy, the entity is not yet; when it is causally active, the entity is
present; when there is no causal activity, the entity is past. If we never perceive
external objects, as the Sautrāntikas argue, then we would not be able to infer
them simply from their form (āk āra).
The Vaibhāṣikas’ minute analytical listing of entities bears testimony to
their remarkable powers of subtle observation, faithful articulation, and openness to new metaphysical thinking. In this school, ontological and valuational
judgments are inseparably linked; every element of reality is either good or
evil; the theory of causality is as much about values as it is ontology.
The Vaibhāṣikas’ maintained that conditioned and unconditioned dharmas
are totally different. There are two levels of reality, sa ṃsāra (empirical realm)
and nirvāṇa (beyond empirical, truth)—neither is “unreal.” This dualism between the two levels of reality became a matter of great controversy among
Buddhist schools. The Mādhyamikas argued against the Vaibhāṣika position, holding that sa ṃsāra and nirvāṇa are the two sides of the same coin.
The Sautrāntikas accepted only the reality of sa ṃsāra but no separate reality
of nirvāṇa, which on their view is a mere negation and not a positive entity.
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The Yog ācāras held that sa ṃsāra is not real, only nirvāṇa is. Thus, it is not
an exaggeration to say that the Vaibhāṣikas laid the foundation for the subsequent discussion of many philosophical issues among Buddhists and nonBuddhists alike.
III The Sautrāntika School of Buddhism
“Sautrāntika” literally means “those who accept the authority of the s ūtras.” Specifcally, they accept the Vinaya and the Sutta pi ṭakas as containing the Buddha’s
words. The founder of this school is taken to be Kumāralāta of Tak ṣaśila.
The main literature of this school seems to have been lost. Our knowledge of
the Sautrāntika doctrines is derived from what the followers of other schools
say about them in the process of refuting them.
Many of the Sautrāntika doctrines are known to us from the Abhidharmakośa
of Vasubandhu, who prior to converting to Mahāyāna was a Sautrāntika. The
Abhidharma texts take Kumāralāta, Dharmatrāta, Buddhadeva, and Śrelāta
to be the “Four Sons” of the Sautrāntika. Although they are said to belong to
the Hīnayāna school, Sautrāntikas are often considered as marking the beginnings of Mahāyāna. The Sautrāntikas were realists, pluralists, k ṣanikavādins,
and nominalists.
Fundamental Postulates of Sautrāntika
1
2
3
4
5
6
Both the mental and the non-mental are real.
The present is real, but the past and future are not.
Conditioned or composite dharmas are not real.
There are no static moments.
We do not directly perceive objects, as both objects and consciousness are impermanent; we directly cognize a momentary impression or representation of an object and infer the existence of the
object on that basis.
The theory of “substance” or “own-nature” (svabhava) is just the
rejected theory of ātman by another name.
The Sautrāntikas accept the reality of both mental objects or phenomena—
such as pleasure and pain—and the non-mental, including tangible external objects.7 The object of consciousness is different from, and exists apart
from, consciousness itself. As for our knowledge of external objects, we do not
perceive them directly, but infer their existence from our perceptions. In the
cognition of an object, the mind receives a copy or impression of that object,
and consciousness infers the existence of the object from this copy. This account is known as “representationalism” or “the copy theory of ideas,” and it
“resembles” Western Lockean representationalism.8
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S Y ST E M S W I T H GL OB A L I M PAC T
The Sautrāntikas reject the reality of past and future, because their acceptance would mean regarding the past or the future as present, which would be
logically inconsistent. The Sautrāntikas affrm a process theory of existence,
in which every dharma is momentary, arising and immediately perishing. A
dharma’s being is its process; there is no substance called “arising.” Perishing,
being an absence, is not produced—it is ahetuka (without cause). Only being is
causally produced, not non-being. Therefore, while a dharma’s being is caused,
once it arises, it then perishes of itself. Life is not a substance; it is a special ability (sāmrthya) which lasts for a defnite period.
When a dharma arises, four conditioned entities (ana-lak ṣanas) co-arise
with it: Arising-arising, existence-existence, decay-decay, and noneternity-noneternity.
All conditioned entities have the marks of non-being becoming being and being
becoming non-being. The Sautrāntikas reject the existence of conditioned or
composite dharmas—these elements are not real. The very existence of the
dharmas consists in their process, “stream,” or pravāha. There is no origin, existence, or perishing. Regarding the three unconditioned dharmas asserted by the
Vaibhāṣikas, the Sautrāntikas argue that āk āśa (empty space) is nothing but
the absence of anything tangible. Nirvāṇa is not a positive entity; it is mere
absence. It is neither caused nor an effect. The same characterizes “cessation
without wisdom”—it too is a negative entity.
The Sautrāntikas departed from the Vaibhāṣikas on several points: The reality of the past and the future, the reality of the unconditioned or incomposite
dharmas (āk āśa, nirvāṇa), and whether the external world is directly perceived
or inferred.
The frst of these disagreements is the most important. The Vaibhāṣikas
hold that the past, present, and future are equally real, because a real present
cannot be the effect of an unreal past, nor the cause of an unreal future; so,
the past and the future are contained in the present, which explains why they
hold that the present has duration, and that in the absence of duration, the
present could not be causally effcacious to the arising of succeeding moments.
The Sautrāntikas, however, argue that there is no causal relation between
successive moments; each moment is replaced by the succeeding one. There
is no causal relation between the preceding and the succeeding moment, the
latter simply depends on the former.
It is worth noting that though both the Vaibhāṣikas and the Sautrāntikas
subscribe to momentariness, their understanding of “moment” (ksa ṇa) differs—
for the Vaibhāṣikas, it is the last indivisible segment of time, while for the
Sautrāntikas, it is the time it takes for a dharma to arise before perishing in the
next moment. The Sautrāntikas argue that if this arising lasted for another
moment, it would need another cause; however, the same cause cannot produce a new effect, given that it has already produced its effect. Consequently,
the doctrine of momentariness (k ṣanikavāda) is transformed into a philosophy of
process, because it does not make sense to say that every instant—even when it
is gone and has not yet been—exists eternally. Additionally, the Sautr āntikas
argue that their conception is closer to the Buddha’s doctrine of Dependent
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Origination, as it distinguishes between conditioning and causing. In the twelvelink chain of the Dependent Origination, each link is both conditioned and
that which conditions, but one link does not cause the other link. Finally, they
argue that to attribute duration to instants is to assign them a sort of permanency which goes against the doctrine of Dependent Origination. Thus, arising and perishing are not two different processes, but rather a single continuous
process.
The second major point of difference between the Sautrāntikas and the Vaibhāṣikas concerns the reality of simple unconditional dharmas, namely, āk āśa
and nirvāṇa. The Sautrāntikas reject that these two are unconditioned dharmas.
They do not agree that empty space is real. It is not a positive reality; there
is an absence of any tangible object. Likewise, nirvāṇa, which the Buddhist
aspirant aims to attain, is a mere cessation comparable to the extinguishing of
a lamp. If existence is dukkha (the First Noble Truth) and nirvāṇa is the nirodha
satya, or the cessation of duhkha (the Third Noble Truth), then this amounts
to the cessation of existence, so that a person after attaining nirvāṇa ceases to
exist. There is simply a blank nothingness.
It is to be noticed that many Western readers of Buddhism have wondered
whether nirv āṇa is not simply an extinction of dukkha. Only the Sautr ā ntikas
held such a view; no other school subscribed to this position. Even Nā g ā rjuna,
in asserting that nirv āṇa is śūnya, did not affrm the Sautr ā ntika position. As
we will see shortly, śūnyat ā, for Nā g ā rjuna, is not of the nature of simple
negation.
The third point of difference concerns our knowledge of the external world.
The Sautrāntika position is that—while real objects exist outside the mind—
they are not directly perceived, but inferred based on our momentary, fashing cognition of the form or impression that the object leaves behind. The
Sautrāntika philosophy therefore came to be known as the theory of the inferability of external objects (B āhyānumeyavāda).
Our perceptions of external objects depend not simply on mind, but on four
conditions: Causes as a condition (hetupratyayat ā), an equal and immediately
antecedent condition (samanantarapratyayat ā), an object as condition (ālambanapratyayat ā), and a predominating infuence as a condition (adhipatipratyayat ā).9
The object must be there to impart its form to consciousness; the mind must
be able to receive the object’s form or impression, which includes sensory consciousness (tactile, visual, etc.). Auxiliary conditions in the environment (such
as light) combine with the conditions of the object and the mind to facilitate
perception of the object. When the object’s form is generated in our mind,
what the mind perceives not that object, but a copy of the object in our own
consciousness.
In many ways, the Sautrāntikas and the Vaibhāṣikas laid the foundations
for the emergence of subsequent schools that developed within the fold of
Buddhism. According to Sautrāntikas, the existence of the external world is
inferred, and this inference is subject to the constraints of our internal representations. Western writers have compared the Sautr āntika’s position to
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Lockean representationalism, contrasted with the direct naive realism of the
Vaibhāṣikas.
We will shortly see that Vasubandhu rejects the Sautrāntika’s position,
holding instead that consciousness apprehends only its own ākāra or form. The
issue becomes whether this form of consciousness is derived from the supposed
external object as the Sautrāntikas take it to be, or it is derived from the supposed ālaya vijñāna (storehouse consciousness) that the Vijñānavāda school asserts. The Sautrāntika’s position not only engendered the Vijñānavāda view that
consciousness alone is real, but also the Mādhyamika dialectic that there is no
origination or cessation, no coming-to-be or going-out, that everything is śūnya.
IV The Mādhyamika School of Buddhism
The Mādhyamikas follow the madhyama pratipad, or the Middle Path, of the
Buddha. In his frst sermon, the Buddha illustrated this path by ruling out
the behavioral extremes of self-indulgence and self-mortifcation. In Sanskrit
lexicons, one of the words used for the Buddha is “advayavādin,” or “the one
who asserts not-two.” What does this signify? The Mādhyamikas take “nottwo” to mean that one should avoid all extreme assertions: Of being and nonbeing, of self and non-self, of substance and process—in general, all dualistic
affrmations—as well as extreme dispositions and behaviors, such as selfindulgence and self-mortifcation.
Nāgārjuna is generally considered to be the founder of the Mādhyamika
school. It is not an exaggeration to say that Nāgārjuna is the most important
Buddhist philosopher after the historical Buddha himself, and one of the India’s
innovative, enigmatic, and thought-provoking philosophers. Nāgārjuna lived 500
years after the Buddha’s death, during the transitional era of Buddhism when
scholar-monks began debating Buddhist teachings and practices among themselves, as well as with non-Buddhist schools. Tradition maintains that Nāgārjuna
was born in 50 CE to a brahmin family in Andhra Pradesh, South India. Many
legends surround his name. According to some accounts, Nāgārjuna initially
studied the Vedas and other important Hindu texts, but eventually converted to
Buddhism. Numerous works have been attributed to Nāgārjuna. These works include public lectures and letters to numerous kings, in addition to metaphysical
and epistemological treatises that form the foundation of the Mādhyamika school.
But there is no doubt that his most important works are Mūlamadhyamakakārikā
(MMK) with his own commentary and Vigrahavyāvartanī (VVT).
One of the most important texts belonging to this era was Prajñ āpāramit ā,
which literally means “transcendent insight or wisdom,” but usually translated as “Perfection of Wisdom.” The principal theme of this work is the
notion of śūnyat ā (emptiness, voidness). Nāgārjuna analyzes this notion and
develops its ramifcations systematically and clearly. Though Prajñ āpāramit ā
has been commented upon by both the Mādhyamika and Yog ācāra schools
of Mahāyāna Buddhism, in time it came to be used synonymously with the
teachings of Nāgārjuna.
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Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
Metaphysical theories proposed by divergent schools of thought,
including Buddhism, are conceptual constructions; they are evidently incoherent and illogical.
All things, ideas, and events are empty (śūnya); they have no essence
or immutable defning property.
Things can never be adequately explained either in terms of themselves or in terms of their relations to other things.
All thinking presupposes the categories of “identity” and “difference,” but these categories are incoherent and have no referent.
No entity or thing arises from itself, from not-itself, from both itself
and not-itself, or from neither itself nor not-itself.
Language is tautological; it is self-referential.
Emptiness of concepts and theories does not entail the emptiness of
reality.
There are two levels of truth or reality: The conventional (sa ṃsāra)
and the ultimate (nirvāṇa); higher truth is grasped in prajñ ā (direct
intuition).
The Buddha had refused to answer any metaphysical questions and characterized his teaching as the Middle Way; Nāgārjuna, puzzled by the Buddha’s
silence and seeking some rationale behind it, took this silence to mean that
reality could not be articulated by any of the commonly held metaphysical
positions, e.g., the thesis of permanence and change, substance and causality, etc. Accordingly, Nāgārjuna rejected all such metaphysical positions and
called his philosophy “Madhyamaka,” indicating a navigation away from theoretical extremes.
In my discussion of the Mādhyamika school in this chapter, I draw mainly
from the Mūlam ādhyamakak ārik ā, or Fundamental Verses on the Middle Way. It contains 448 verses divided into 27 chapters. The terse and the dense nature
of these verses continue to generate signifcant philosophical dialogue up to
this day. The central theses of this work revolve around the notions of śūnyat ā (emptiness) and niḥsvabh āvat ā (lack of inherent essence or absence of the
essence of things).
Nāgārjuna rejects the Vaibhāṣika doctrine of the dharmas and argues that
all dharmas are foundationless. No dharma has svabh āva; that is, no dharma has
its own self-nature, being, or essence. Nāgārjuna holds that things have no
essence of their own, no immutable defning property; rather, all dharmas are
dependent on one another. Collectively, these ideas form Nāgārjuna’s famous
thesis of śūnyat ā (emptiness). It is important to remember here that Nāgārjuna
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Śūnyat ā
•
•
•
•
•
Śūnyat ā is the noun form derived from the Sanskrit adjective śūnya:
“empty, void, zero, nothing”; hence, it is usually translated as
“emptiness” or “voidness.”
Śūnyat ā is a complex Buddhist concept, which has been used in a
variety of senses depending on its doctrinal context, referring variously to an ontological feature of reality, a meditative experience,
or a phenomenological analysis of experience.
In Therāvāda, “śūnyat ā” often refers to the non-self (the union of
fve aggregates).
In Mahāyāna, “śūnyat ā” refers to a lack of essence or intrinsic essence (svabh āva).
Nāgārjuna equates emptiness with Dependent Origination. Given
that according to the Buddha, all experienced phenomena (dharmas) are “dependently arisen,” Nāgārjuna argues that such phenomena are empty (śūnya). As phenomena are experienced, they
are not non-existent; they do not possess any permanent and eternal substance.
is rejecting not only the philosophical thesis that things have their own essence (such as cowness belonging to all cows) but also the brahman-ātman of the
Upaniṣads, the puru ṣa and the prak ṛti of Sāṃ khya, and the nine substances
(dravyas) of the Vaiśeṣika.
Svabh āva
•
•
•
•
•
The term “svabh āva” literally means “own-being.”
It means intrinsic nature, essential nature, or the essence of living
beings.
It is variously used as “essence,” “own-nature,” “self-nature,” “intrinsic existence,” “own-being,” “inherent existence” “essence,”
“nature,” etc.
The svabh āva of a thing does not change; it neither comes to be nor
ceases to be.
The concept of “svabh āva” plays an important role in Hindu and
Buddhist traditions alike.
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Rejection of svabh āva amounts to rejecting the identity of a substance, the
presence of a universal in particulars, and any thesis which posits unchanging
essences of things. In rejecting svabh āva, Nāgārjuna rejects all metaphysical
positions advocated by his predecessors, the Buddhist and the non-Buddhist
alike. Taking the Buddha’s doctrine of prat ītyasamutpāda (Dependent Origination) as his point of departure, Nāgārjuna uses a method known as prasa ṇga—
very similar to reductio ad absurdum—to demonstrate that all perspectives about
reality involve self-contradiction.10
Prasaṇga or Reductio ad Absurdum
Prasa ṇga (reductio ad absurdum) is a method of analysis that exposes the inherent
self-contradiction of any perspective to demonstrate its absurdity. The analysis consists in demonstrating that the proponent’s theses lead to absurdity even
when one uses the same rules and principles that the proponent himself had
used. It is reductio ad absurdum to the core.11 Let us examine how Nāgārjuna uses
this method to accomplish his goals.12
Nāgārjuna begins by noting that there are two possible predications about
an object A: “A is” and “A is not.” The conjunction and the negation of the
conjunction give rise to yet two more possibilities: “A both is and is not” and
“A neither is nor is not.” This is the catu ṣkoti or quadrilemma, also known as
four-cornered negation. Nāgārjuna analyzes these four alternatives and, by
drawing out the implications of each, demonstrates that it is impossible to
erect any sound rational metaphysics.
For example, with respect to causation, these four possibilities translate
into: (1) A thing arises out of itself, (2) a thing arises out of not-itself, (3) a thing
arises out of both itself and not-itself, and (4) a thing arises neither out of itself nor out of not-itself.13 Nāgārjuna argues that on the frst alternative (the
Sāṃ khya view) cause and effect become identical; their identity points to their
non-difference. Thus, any talk about their being causally related is superfuous. On the second alternative (the Nyāya view), cause and effect become
entirely different, and, accordingly, there can be no common ground between
the two to make the relation of causality possible. Thus, the second alternative
is equally meaningless. He further argues that since the frst and the second
possibilities are meaningless, the two remaining possibilities that arise out of
the conjunction and the negation of the conjunction are equally meaningless.
The point that Nāgārjuna was trying to make is as follows: Things arise
neither at random, nor from a unique cause, nor from a variety of causes. An
entity is neither identical with its causes nor different from them, nor both
identical and different from them. Nāgārjuna further argues that both the
opposing views outlined above—that the effect is contained in the cause prior
to its creation and so is not a new creation, and that the effect is totally different from its cause and so is a new creation—presuppose the svabh āva of events
identifed as cause or effect. However, if an event has a nature of its own,
then it will always have that nature; it will never change. When events have
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a nature of their own or are ascribed eternal essences, they are either totally
identical or totally different. Qualifcations of the sort “some” or “partially”
(i.e., saying that events are partially identical or partially different) are not
permissible, as svabhava would (by defnition) be free from conditions; thus, it
cannot be said to be caused in as much as being caused implies conditions,
and, therefore, it cannot be brought into existence.
In short, we have two aspects of a causal relation that are not compatible
with each other. One of these aspects is that causation involves Dependent
Origination; the other is that each cause and effect has an eternal essence of
its own which is not capable of origination. If we choose the latter, there is no
Dependent Origination; if we choose the former, neither the cause nor the effect could have an eternal essence. If neither of the two has an eternal essence
or self-nature, then everything becomes conditional. Nāgārjuna argues that,
when causes and effects are taken to be absolutes, they lead to absurdities;
they are not self-existent entities that exist independently and unconditionally.
Causal relations do not imply temporal sequence but rather mutual dependence in the sense that a cause is not a cause but for the effect, and the latter
not an effect but for the cause. Such conditioned entities as causes and effects
do not have essential nature of their own; they are śūnya. They are relational
concepts. They exist relatively and dependently, and if or when taken to exist
independently and unconditionally, these concepts generate absurdities.
Śūnyat ā (Emptiness) and the Levels of the Truth
Nāgārjuna employs his causal theory ruthlessly, demonstrating that not
only concepts and doctrines of rival schools (regarding permanence, a substantial self, etc.) but also central doctrines of Buddhism—momentariness,
karma, skandhas, and even the very idea of Tath āgata—contain inherent selfcontradictions. If there is no causality, he argues, then there is no change
either, because change requires that one thing become another, which is logically impossible. The concept of time as consisting of the past, present, and
future articulates this problem. That which is present cannot become past,
and that which is future cannot become present, because in either case a thing
would become what it is not, which is unintelligible.
Nāgārjuna argues that for a thing to be permanent, it must remain the same
amid changes; however, it has been demonstrated that a being cannot change,
nor can it cease to be. Consequently, the defnition of permanence is inapplicable to anything whatsoever. In effect, both permanence and change are
metaphysical concepts that Nāgārjuna severely criticizes. It is worth noting
that though Nāgārjuna’s rejection of change and causal origination seems to
bring him near the Advaita position, the Advaitin still maintains that things
have an eternal essence, ātman-brahman, while Nāgārjuna’s radical thesis of essence-less or emptiness remains far removed from the Advaitin essentialism.14
Every concept, argues Nāgārjuna, acquires meaning only when contrasted
with its complement; in that sense, every concept implies its own negation.
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Nāgārjuna rejects the metaphysical categories of substance and attribute, whole
and part, knowledge and object, universal and particular, self and not-self, the pram āṇas
and the prameyas, bondage and liberation. These metaphysical concepts come in
pairs and are mutually dependent; the reality of each is conditioned by the
other, so they exist relatively insofar as the members of each pair depend upon
the other. If a substance is that which underlies attributes, then the two concepts substance and attribute are dependent upon each other; any defnition of
substance in terms of attributes must be circular inasmuch as an attribute is
what characterizes a substance. Likewise, if a whole consists of parts, then a part
is a part only insofar as it belongs to a whole; both concepts go together. Notice
that in critiquing the concepts of whole and part, Nāgārjuna is critiquing the
distinction between conditioned and unconditioned dharmas, which was one of
the central concerns of the early Buddhists.
The same sort of mutual dependence affects the concept of “vijñ āna”
(cognition/knowledge) used by both Hindu and Buddhist philosophers. If an
object is that which is manifested by a cognition, and a cognition is that which
manifests its object, then there cannot be one without the other, and any defnition would be applicable to both together and not to each one separately.
In so asserting, Nāgārjuna is effectively critiquing the Buddhist use of the
word “vijñ āna” and the fourfold conditions that give rise to it, especially the
ālambanapratyayat ā (an object as condition).
Following the method outlined above, Nāgārjuna examines various metaphysical theories that existed in Indian thought during that time—such as the
Vaiśeṣika theory that a material object consists of simple atoms, the Sāṃ khya
theory that material objects arise out of simple undifferentiated stuff called
prak ṛti, and the early Buddhist theory that reality is a process or series of instantaneous events—and shows that in each of these cases, the concepts employed (e.g., whole and part, simple and composite, permanence and change,
undifferentiated and differentiated) imply their opposites, and to the extent
they do, the thesis cannot be coherently formulated.
Nāgārjuna argues that since the concept of an object, such as a chair or a
frying pan, is empty, then it follows that the cognized object itself (the chair
or pan) is also empty, devoid of self-nature. In such a scheme, it does not
make sense to argue whether things like chairs or frying pans exist or not.
Ascribing existence to things is only a matter of pragmatic usefulness, not of
ontological reality. Accordingly, Nāgārjuna concludes that since no entity can
be characterized as having its own essence—that is, being simple, permanent,
instantaneous, a whole or a part—such entities are śūnya. Divergent theories
of reality are, he says, conceptual constructions (vikalpa) grounded in divergent
perspectives.
It is worth remembering in this context that Nāgārjuna’s argument for the
emptiness of concepts and theories about reality does not entail the emptiness
of reality itself. Rather, Nāgārjuna’s thought implies that there are two different levels of truth: The conventional truth (samvṛti) and the noumenal or
transcendental truth (param ārtha satt ā).15 For example, in view of his radical
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critique, the concept of śūnyat ā itself may be said to undergo two levels of
transformation, as applied to the phenomenal and noumenal worlds, and so
understood from the conventional point of view as lacking self-nature or any
substantial reality of its own, or from the transcendent standpoint as signifying the incoherence of all conceptual systems.
In the phenomenal realm, there is no absolute truth; truth is always relative to a conceptual system. The phenomenal world only has a pragmatic or
conventional (samvṛtti) reality. Conventional truth, however, is not the only
kind of truth; there is also the param ārthasatya, higher or absolute truth. According to Buddhist teachings, conventional truth of the world pertains only
to the phenomenal, or pragmatic, or conventional level.16 However, from the
viewpoint of absolute truth, the manifold world of names and forms is simply
an appearance. Absolute reality transcends the perceptual-conceptual framework of language; it is unconditional and devoid of plurality. It is nirvāṇa. Such
a truth is realized by intuitive wisdom (prajñ ā). It is non-dual and contentless.
It is beyond language, logic, and sense perception.
It is important to remember that knowledge of noumenal entities such as
nirvāṇa and Tath āgata is yet a lower level prajñ ā; at a higher level, even such
noumenal entities as these must be dissolved into experiences. In other words,
ontology is constantly being transcended by a series of negations, which may
be represented as follows:
1
2
3
4
Say, P is a conventional truth.
Not-P is a higher truth than P (as negation is always higher than an
affrmation).
The next higher truth is P and not-P.
This may again be denied: It is not the case that P and not-P.
Thus, every affrmation can be negated, leading to a higher level of affrmation, which again can be negated. In this context, we must remember that,
when Nāgārjuna argues that a thing cannot arise from itself, from what is
other than it, nor can it arise from both, nor from neither, his thinking is
following a certain logical pattern, a method of analysis. In order for philosophical thinking to be radical, it must avoid falling into the trap of ontology.
For this purpose, negation is always at our disposal, given that there is a corresponding affrmation. But negation itself must not be taken in the ontological
sense similar to Nyāya negation (abh āva), because that negation again can be
negated.17 Again, a similarity with Śa ṃ kara may be noticed: Śa ṃ kara also
held that negation is higher than affrmation so that statements like “neti, neti,”
of the Upaniṣads state the higher truth than the corresponding affrmation,
e.g., “sarvam khalu idam brahm ā” (“all this is the brahman”). However, I must add
here that Nāgārjuna’s thinking is more radical than that of Śa ṃ kara, because
the negation of P itself must be negated.
Since, according to Nāgārjuna, dukkha and sa ṃsāra are conventional truths,
their cessation becomes noumenal truth. But the noumenal truth must also be
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negated such that we are not stuck with ontology. If there is no sa ṃsāra, there is
no nirodha; when there is a real pitcher, one can destroy it by a real process and
then speak of the absence of a pitcher. The idea that nirvāṇa is a real cessation
of sa ṃsāra implies that sa ṃsāra itself is a real entity, but if sa ṃsāra is śūnya, then
the nirodha satya (the Third Noble Truth) and the m ārga satya (the truth of the
path, i.e., the Fourth Noble Truth) must also be śūnya.
Nāgārjuna’s epistemological method leads him to argue that sa ṃsāra (phenomenal conditioned reality) is not different from nirvāṇa; they are the same.18
In other words, nirvāṇa and sa ṃsāra are not two ontologically distinct levels,
but one reality viewed from two different perspectives. The distinction between the two, like all else, is relative. The same reality is phenomenal when
viewed conditionally; it is nirvāṇa when viewed unconditionally. Accordingly,
nirvāṇa is not something that is to be attained, but something to be realized. It is
realized through the right comprehension of the sa ṃsāra in which the plurality
of names and forms is manifested. Everything is nirvāṇa; it is śūnya. Thus, śūnya
is an experience which cannot be linguistically and conceptually communicated, it is quiescent; it is devoid of conceptual construction, and it is non-dual.
Nāgārjuna further argues that no element of existence manifests without
conditions. Therefore, there is no non-empty element,19 and whatever is conditionally emergent is empty. Thus, there is a three-way relation between conditioned emergence, emptiness, and verbal convention. Nāgārjuna regards
this relation as none other than the Middle Way: Conditioned emergence
is emptiness; emptiness and the conventional world are not two distinct ontological levels. To say that a thing is conditionally emergent is to say that
it is empty. Conversely, to say that it is empty is another way of saying that
it emerges conditionally. What language articulates is the so-called conventional world, which is empty. Nāgārjuna did wrestle with the question as to
how words like śūnya and nirvāṇa could verbally articulate what is incapable of
being expressed. He accepted the paradox involved to be unavoidable.
Utilizing the Buddha’s theory of “Dependent Origination” (prat ītyasamutpāda), Nāgārjuna thus demonstrates the futility of metaphysical speculations.
His method of dealing with such metaphysics is referred to as the “Middle
Way” (madhyama pratipad), by which he avoids the substantialism of the
Sarvā stivādins as well as the nominalism of the Sautrāntikas.
There have been endless questions and answers about the nature and validity of N ā g ā rjuna’s thinking. In his Vigrahavy āvartan ī (the End of Disputes),
his work of seventy verses with auto-commentary in prose, N ā g ā rjuna unequivocally states that he has no thesis ( pratijña) to prove, a point that would
become the focus of debate for later M ā dhyamika philosophers. In this
work, N ā g ā rjuna responds to a set of specifc objections raised by Buddhist
and non-Buddhist opponents against his philosophy. For example, in response to the objection that if all words are empty, then his arguments
are also empty, N ā g ā rjuna responds that the doctrine of emptiness neither
means non-existence nor a denial of the world; rather, it explains why the
world happens at all.
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Opponents argue that Nāgārjuna’s critical dialectic is destructive, that his
position is nihilist, and that his entire system is foundationless if emptiness is
not real. Nāgārjuna was not a nihilist. The two-level schema which recognizes
the importance of conventional knowledge allowed him to defend himself
against the charge of nihilism. The highest truth, he holds, is inexpressible,
and it is not to be attained through speculative reason (tarka). Rejection of all
concepts and views is the competence of reason to grasp reality. The real is
“transcendent to thought; it is non-dual (śūnya), free from the duality of ‘is’
and ‘not-is.’”20
In reading Nāgārjuna, it is important to keep in mind that he was neither
a thorough-going skeptic nor a nihilist. T. R. V. Murti refers to Mādhyamika
dialectic as “spiritual ju-jutsu,” adding that Mādhyamika “does not have a thesis of his own.”21 However, it seems that to interpret Nāgārjuna as aiming only
at destruction is to miss the real signifcance of his philosophy. It is indeed true
that Nāgārjuna demonstrates that one could expose self-contradictions in an
opponent’s metaphysical arguments without making any claims about what in
fact exists, if one uses the rules accepted by the opposing party. Contrary to
Murti’s contention, this should not be taken to imply that Nāgārjuna did not
have a thesis of his own; rather, through his dialectical method, Nāgārjuna
rejects the pretensions of reason to know reality.
Nāgārjuna uses reason to transcend reason. Just as one uses a nail to remove
another nail from one’s foot, and just as one destroys the poison of a disease
by using that poison itself in the medicine, so Nāgārjuna uses logic to destroy
logic and to be free from its clutches. His mode of argumentation does not
demonstrate the total inadequacy of reason, because he himself uses reason
to demonstrate self-contradictions involved in the opponent’s arguments. He
instead shows that everything is conditional in the phenomenal world, that
reality transcends both refutation and non-refutation, both affrmation and
negation, and hence it cannot be captured by discursive reasoning.
Śūnyat ā is neither a substance nor an entity. It is not real; it is not an ontological support nor a cosmological principle. Emptiness is also empty; if it were
real, then things would not be empty. Śūnyat ā (emptiness, voidness) is defnitionally equivalent to Dependent Origination,22 insofar as nothing exists absolutely and independently. All existents are devoid of svabh āva (own-nature),
such that everything exists conditionally and relatively. That which comes
at the end and marks the penultimate point of wisdom is that śūnyat ā itself is
śūnya—emptiness itself is empty. This is to ward off any misconception that
the Mādhyamika thesis is nihilism, or a conception of being as nothingness.
Nāgārjuna’s position, if he has a position, is very different from this. He warns
us against reifying śūnyat ā into an entity. Hence the culmination of wisdom is
the knowledge that emptiness itself is empty. Reality can only be captured by
rising to a higher level of truth, which is the level of prajñ ā.23 Thus, in making
these assertions, Nāgārjuna indeed provides his readers with some theses of
his own, in which case we cannot but ask, can he do so consistently? Readers
may also ask: Given that the Buddhist tradition considered Nāgārjuna to be
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second in rank, next to the Gautama Buddha himself, to what extent he did
justice to the teaching of the historical Buddha? I will let my readers decide
how best to answer these questions.
V The Yogācāra School of Buddhism
An important school of Indian Mahāyāna Buddhism established approximately
two centuries after Nāgārjuna was Yogācāra (“practice of yoga”). The school is
so-called because it recommends the practice of yoga to attain freedom (nirvāṇa)
from the phenomenal world. The school is also known as Vijñānavāda, which
derives from the school’s explicitly stated position that vijñāna (consciousness) is
the only reality. Notwithstanding its name, the primary emphases of this school
are philosophical and psychological. The Buddhist tradition venerates Asa ṅga
and Vasubandhu, on some accounts said to be brothers, as the co-founders of
this school, though many important Yogācāra works, such as the Yogācārabhūmi
and Saṁdhinirmocanasūtra, predate them.
Tradition maintains that Asaṅga’s teacher, Maitreya, was not a historical
person but a boddhisattva. Asaṅga’s important works are Aryade śanāvikhyāpana,
an abridged Yogācārabhūmi that deals with the seventeen stages of yoga practice
based on Maitreya’s teachings; Abhidharmasamuccaya, a brief explanation of the elements constituting phenomenal existence from the Yogācāra perspective; and
Mahāyānasaṁgraha, a comprehensive work on Yogācāra doctrines and practices.
According to Parmārtha’s biography of Vasubandhu, Asaṅga was initially an adherent of Hīnayāna Buddhism (the so-called “lesser vehicle,”) but later converted
to Mahāyāna (the “greater vehicle”). Thus, it is not surprising that Asaṅga’s works
are characterized by a detailed analysis of psychological phenomena that he inherited from the Abhidharma literature of the Hīnayāna schools.
It is Vasubandhu, however, who is regarded as the most famous philosopher
of this school. In my discussion of Yogācāra, I will primarily draw from his works.
Vasubandhu was born in Puruṣapura (today known as Peshawar) in the state of
Gāndhāra in northwest India. Takasuku places Vasubandhu’s life between 420
and 500 CE. Paramārtha wrote his biography sometime between 468 and 568
CE. Although Vasubandhu began as a Sarvāstivādin, he converted to Mahāyāna
Buddhism under the infuence of Asaṅga. Two important works of Vasubandhu
of this phase are Viṁśatikā or the Twenty Verses with his own commentary, and
Triṁśikā or the Thirty Verses with commentary by Sthiramati. Majority of the arguments discussed below are drawn from these two works.
Gāndhāra in those days was heavily dominated by the Vaibhāṣika
Buddhism, so it is not surprising that Vasubandhu’s early writings were infuenced by this school. During these early years, Vasubandhu supported
himself by delivering public lectures on Buddhism during the day and putting that day’s lecture in a condensed verse form in the evening. In time, he
composed over 600 verses. He collected these verses into the Abhidharmakośa,
which became one of the most important books of the Buddhist tradition. He
also wrote a commentary on this work.24
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Fundamental Postulates
1 Consciousness is the only reality.
2 Consciousness is the basic presupposition of any experience; whatever we experience or think about occurs within our consciousness.
3 Both subjectivity and objectivity are manifestations of the same
consciousness.
4 There is no proof that external objects exist.
5 All constituents of experiences can be arranged and systematized.
6 Karma is collective and consciousness is intersubjective.
7 Consciousness undergoes three stratifcations.
8 Every individual has eight types of consciousness, but enlightenment requires reversal of their basis, and that consciousness is
“turned” into unmediated cognition.
9 There are three realms: The imagined, the empirical, and the
absolute.
10 The third realm is free from the subject-object distinction; it cannot
be conceptually and linguistically articulated.
11 Practice of yoga is necessary to attain freedom (nirvāṇa) from the
phenomenal world.
12 Repeated meditative practices remove past residual impressions,
and when all deflements and conceptual constructions are purifed, one is enlightened.
In Abhidharmakośa, which is the most important work of the early phase of
his career, Vasubandhu describes the views of the different schools of early
Buddhist philosophy along with his own position. He arranges and systematizes all the dharmas recognized in the early Buddhist philosophy.
Vasubandhu denies the existence of the external world—“vijñaptim ātra”
(“cognition only”) is the central concept of the Yog ācāra school. The concept
has been variously translated as “appearance only,” “representations only,”
“impressions only,” “consciousness only,” “mind only,” etc. The last two are
the standard translations, implying that it is a sort of idealism. Vasubandhu
takes mind (citta) to be connected to the mental qualities (caitta), i.e., perception and what is being perceived. Mind and mental qualities belong together;
there is no external object that is outside and independent of the citta and its
correlate caitta. Whether this thesis is an idealism in the sense prevalent in
Western philosophy is debatable, and I will not enter into that controversy
here. However, it is important to note that Vasubandhu is not asserting merely
a theoretical thesis, but rather a thesis that would contribute to the attainment
of nirvāṇa. Precisely how, we will see soon.
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Cognitions, argues Vasubandhu, arise without depending on the supposed
object of cognition. In Vi ṁśatik ā (Twenty Verses), he defends Yog ācāra from
objections raised by realists who believe in the existence of an external world;
in Tri ṁśik ā (Thirty Verses), he develops the vijñaptim ātra thesis further. Vasubandhu opens Vi ṁśatik ā with the following thesis: “Everything is consciousness
only (vijñaptim ātra), because there is the appearance of the non-existent objects,
just as a person with a cataract sees hairs, moons, which do not really exist.”25
Vasubandhu next anticipates an objection on behalf of a proponent for the
existence of the external world: If we assume for the sake of argument that
external objects do not exist, how would we account for their spatial and temporal determinations, the indetermination of various perceiving streams of
consciousness, and the fruitful activity which results from their knowledge?26
That is, if cognitions arise without there being any external sense objects,
how is it that an object is only perceived at a particular place and at a particular time? Why is it that all persons, and not only one person, can perceive
an object only in particular circumstances—e.g., why is it the case that my
yellow-perception occurs only when I look there and then, but not anywhere at
any time? Why are perceptions of objects not restricted to one stream of consciousness (say, mine)? Why can the same perception not occur in another
stream of consciousness as well (say, yours)? And how is it that fruitful activity
is possible? If such things as food, water, poison, etc., are merely seen in a
dream, if they are merely mental constructions devoid of effcacy, then would
not it imply that the real food and real water also cannot satisfy hunger and
thirst respectively? Since there is a correspondence between one’s experience
and the external objects of that experience, argues the opponent, external
objects must exist. Vasubandhu disposes off the above objections by using the
argument that in dreams, consciousness creates its own content; it does not
need an external object, and the spatio-temporal determinations in dreams
and waking experiences are alike. Let me elaborate.
Cognitions, asserts Vasubandhu, arise without depending on the putative object. In response to the objection that in the absence of external objects we shall not be able to account for spatio-temporal determinations of
cognitions—that is, if there were no real objects corresponding to the idea
of objects, then surely objects would arise anywhere and at any time, like in
a dream—Vasubandhu argues that external objects are perceived in dreams
and hallucinations, though none is actually present. Even in dreams, one perceives such things as a tree, a cup of tea, or a family member as existing in
a place and at a particular time, but not in all places and always. Moreover,
those persons who, because of their bad deeds, go to hell see the same river of
pus, etc. Thus, dreams are as determinate as waking experiences. The roaring of a tiger in a dream may cause real fear to disturb one’s sleep; similarly,
an erotic dream may result in a man’s discharging his semen. In dreams and
in hell, the four factors outlined by the opponent obtain, although there are
no external objects. Thus, based on certain experiences resulting in certain
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other experiences, one cannot conclude that objects corresponding to those
experiences, in fact, exist.27
Conversely, he argues that perceptions do not justify the existence of external objects. He defnes perception as an awareness that arises from the very
object by which that awareness is specifed. It is indeed true that an awareness
of X, if veridical, is caused by X; but X, in this context, is not an external
object but rather the percept or object-form (ālambana pratyaya) which “foats”
in that very awareness. The mind constructs its own objects. Residual impressions of past experiences generate ideas in the mind, and these ideas are called
“objects.” How we see, to a large extent, is determined by previous experiences, and our experiences are intersubjective. Anticipating the question as
to how an intersubjective world is possible in the absence of external objects,
Vasubandhu refers to the illusory experience of hell shared by persons with
a common karmic heritage. Vasubandhu concludes the Twenty Verses by noting
that my knowledge of my citta and my knowledge of the cittas of others is not
like the knowledge of objects, and concedes that the limitless depths of the
series of “cognition-only” cannot be comprehended by a person like him, only
the Buddha can comprehend the truth fully.28
Another objection is that we know that the Buddha spoke of sense fields,
twelve gateways29 of the subjective and the objective components of our experiences. It is asked: Why did the Buddha teach about sense felds and sense
objects if there are no such physical things? Vasubandhu replies that both subjectivity and dharma arise from the store-house consciousness. Perception (for
example, impression, arising from a seed) gives rise to an apparent object, say,
a color.30 Additionally, the Buddha’s discourses about sense felds are not to
be taken literally but obliquely, namely, as intended to lead the hearer toward
selflessness. Citta is a series of continuous transformations brought about by appropriate causal conditions. The Buddha’s goal was to discipline laypersons
and prepare their minds to believe that there is no substantial self. The six
consciousnesses (visual, tactile, etc.) are produced instantaneously by appropriate causal conditions. Appearances arise and perish, without there being
any material object outside of consciousness. In this series, there is no unity of
a pudgala (person), neither the subject of consciousness nor the object; all events
are “without a substantial self.”31
To disprove the possibility of external objects, Vasubandhu’s Vim śatik ā
also attacks the Indian theories of atomism held by the Vaibhāṣika and the
Vaiśeṣika schools. Vasubandhu’s clever and complex mereological arguments
are as follows. He starts with the assertion that for anything to serve as a
sensory object, it must be either indivisible and without parts, or indivisible
and composed of many parts. Neither of these options would work. If it is the
former, it cannot be perceived, since atoms are too minute to be perceived. If it
is the latter, we can never perceive all the parts and the sides simultaneously.32
It is asked: Is not perception the most basic pram āṇa by which the existence of objects is established? If the object of perception does not exist, how
can it serve as a pram āṇa? Does not memory arise from the perceived object?
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Vasubandhu argues that direct perception arises as a momentary event, followed by a mental consciousness (by which time the perception has perished),
followed by a memory—but at no stage there is an experience of an external
object. Memory is the memory of the perception, but not of the supposed object of perception. In this regard, perception is like a dream.33
Our previous experiences, to a large extent, shape how we see things. In
response to the question of how an intersubjective world is possible in the absence of external objects, Vasubandhu refers to the illusory experience of hell
shared by persons with a common karmic heritage. When two individuals, X
and Y, are looking at the same tree from their family room window, their experiences are very similar, if not the same, because they both share the “same”
karma that has matured. In fact, there are two tree-contents: The tree that X
perceives and the tree that Y perceives; there is no external tree that exists
independently of its being perceived. In other words, there is a no one-to-one
correspondence between images and the external objects. Consciousness is
the basic presupposition of any experience; no experience can occur without
consciousness.
This gives a brief synopsis of how Vasubandhu explains our everyday experiences, the inter-subjective world, and the distinction between true and
false belief. At times, residual forces (vāsan ās) cause internal modifcations
in a consciousness, and, as a result, the object-content is manifested. States
of consciousness alone are real; objects are wrongly superimposed on consciousness. Thus, the external world is nothing more than the projection of
consciousness.34
Such followers of Yog ācāra as Dignāga use the doctrine of momentariness
to argue against the existence of external objects. Given that objects are momentary, duration-less, instantaneous events, they cannot be the cause of consciousness, because for them to serve as the cause of our consciousness, there
must be a time lapse between the arising of an object and our consciousness of
it. Moreover, both the object of consciousness and the consciousness of the object are
experienced simultaneously. So, Dignāga concludes that the object of cognition is the object internally cognized by introspection and appearing to us “as
though it were external”; and “that there is no difference between the patch of
blue and the sensation of blue.”35
The above amounts to arguing that the alleged external objects depend on
consciousness both epistemologically and ontologically; nothing is real except
consciousness. Given that no experience can occur without consciousness,
forms of subjectivity as well as objectivity are manifestations of the same consciousness. The external objects, which are generally taken to possess objective reality, are nothing but states of consciousness.
Vasubandhu explains that consciousness consists of a series of momentary
events, giving rise to the awareness of various objects of the senses and the
mind. In Tri ṁśik ā (the Thirty Verses), Vasubandhu informs his readers that while
the uses of the terms dharmas (constituent elements) and ātman (self) are manifold, both terms simply refer to the transformations of consciousness, which
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undergoes three stratifcations.36 The frst stratifcation is the ālaya-vijñ āna
(store-consciousness).
The term ālaya-vijñ āna etymologically means “receptacle consciousness”;
it is the repository of all v āsan ās (traces of past experiences). Good and
bad actions generate bījas (seeds), and these bījas are stored in the ālayaconsciousness. This is the realm of potentiality; it is often compared to the
ocean whose surface water is disturbed by the winds, giving rise to constantly
changing waves. 37 The earliest use of this term is found in the Sa ṁdhinirmocana S ūtra, a Yog ā c ā rin work that predates both Asa ṅ ga and Vasubandhu.
The ffth chapter of this work explains ālaya-vijñ āna as the consciousness
which possesses “all the seeds”; future experiential forms grow from these
seeds. In itself, the ālaya-vijñ āna is not a static entity; it changes instantaneously. The La ṅk āvat āra-Sutra describes it as follows: “As the waves in their
variety are constantly stirred in the ocean, so in the ālaya is produced the
variety of what is known as the vijñ ānas.”38
Vasubandhu clarifes the concept further. He argues that the ālaya-vijñ āna
is the realm of potentiality; it is the root consciousness. Accumulated karmic traces lie dormant in the ālaya-vijñ āna; when a person performs actions,
vāsan ās (habitual residual traces) of these actions are left in the form of seeds
in the unconscious and the ālaya-vijñ āna stores them. Seeds are habitualities
that are sedimented in the life of an ego. It is important to note that the wind
of activity, with which the ālaya-vijñ āna is often compared, is not something
external to it. The ālaya-vijñ āna carries within it the traces of all past experiences; it includes within its fold not only experiences of clinging and grasping
of what is unperceived, but it is also associated with experiential phenomena
such as conception, knowledge, feeling, and volition. The ālaya-vijñ āna is the
foundation of experience; individual consciousness grows out of it. The seeds
of vāsan ās (habitual residual traces) that have attained maturity germinate in
it. These seeds, however, continue to create agitation within the ālaya and
manifest under suitable conditions. Accordingly, the ālaya-vijñ āna is both that,
which is the causally transformed consciousness (hetu-pari ṇāma-vijñ āna) and the
effect of such transformed consciousness ( phala pari ṇāma-vijñ āna).
The ālaya-vijñ āna, the individual unconscious, continues from birth to birth.
It serves as the basis of both the unconscious and the conscious. Once all past
seeds stored in it manifest themselves, no ālaya-vijñ āna remains. The ending
of an individual ālaya-vijñ āna may mean either the end of one’s present life, or
the attainment of enlightenment—contingent upon how the individual ālayavijñ āna has been exhausted. If an individual does not attain nirvāṇa, the traces
of the deeds will create a new ālaya-vijñ āna, and keep one involved in phenomenal existence (sa ṃsāra).
The second stratifcation of consciousness is the manovijñ āna (thoughtconsciousness). It is the transformation of potentialities into actual thoughts.39
It is characterized by self-regard, attachment to the self, self-love, and the
sense of “I am.” As a thinking consciousness, it mistakes the ālaya-vijñ āna to be
the self and creates a false sense of “I.” Sthiramati, in his commentary, refers
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to this as the “defled consciousness.” It is generally taken to be associated
with the four types of deflements: Perception of the self, confusion about the
self, self-pride, and self-love. 40
The third stratifcation is the pravṛtti-vijñ āna, comprised of six active, sensebased consciousnesses which are produced through visual, auditory, olfactory,
gustatory, tactile, and cognitive mind (internal perceptions of sukha, dukkha,
and so on). The pravṛtti-vijñ āna manifests in the content of various mental states
and alleged external objects.41
Manas
•
•
•
•
Manas is usually translated as “mind.”
In the early Buddhist tradition, manas was included among twelve
sense felds (āyatanas) comprised of six base-object pairs; on this account, the mind-organ is one of the six bases, corresponding to its
object, thought.
Like any other sense organ, mind can be restrained, developed, and
trained. The Buddha often talks with his disciples about the value
of controlling the six faculties. It played an important role in the
Abhidharma analysis of early Buddhist psychologists and philosophers.
In Mahāyāna, and especially in the Yog ācāra school, manas wore an
additional hat as one of the eight consciousnesses that received and
disposed of data from the prior six consciousnesses. It became the
pivot around which their conception of the ego or I-consciousness
revolved. Manas was taken to be an evolute of the eighth consciousness, which is known as the ālaya-vijñ āna. In this account, the seventh consciousness represents the surface of the mind, and the
ālaya-vijñ āna serves as the basis of all other mind activity.
In this context, it is important to remember that Vijñānavādins are using
manas in two different senses. The mano-vijñ āna of the second stratifcation is
quite different from the manas-consciousness of the third stratifcation. The
mano-vijñ āna owes its origin to the ālaya-vijñ āna, which constitutes its object as
well as the basis of its operation and function; it organizes the data presented
to it by the six sense-consciousnesses and mistakenly takes ālaya-vijñ āna to be
an object, and mis-construes it as an independent self. Manas-consciousness,
in the third stratifcation, is used as an inner sense organ, the sense in which
it is usually taken by Advaita, Nyāya, etc. Manas receives and disposes of the
data received from the other consciousness. Thus, “whereas mano-vijñ āna
divides the world into a web of objects, manas polarizes this world around a
false-discriminated ego or self. Manas develops attachments and aversions to
the ‘things’ which the mano-vijñ āna isolates.”42
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The three transformations, in reverse order, are sensory representation,
self-awareness (as well as self-attachment and self-feeling), and the storehouse
consciousness where the experiences at the other two levels deposit their traces
as the seeds which need to be actualized under appropriate conditions.
Whereas the ālaya-vijñ āna is latent, the mano-vijñ āna and the six sense-based
consciousnesses are manifest. Between the ālaya-vijñ āna and the seven manifest consciousnesses, there exists a reciprocal dependence. The process of
evolution takes place as follows: Seeds are deposited in the ālaya-vijñ āna and
ripen there, resulting in the evolution frst of the mano-vijñ āna and then the
six-fold pravṛtti-vijñ āna, leading thereby to good, bad, or indifferent behavior.
As a result, the vāsan ās are accumulated and stored in the ālaya-vijñ āna and
serve as the basis for the continuous, cyclic evolution of the mano-vijñ āna and
the six-fold pravṛtti-vijñ āna.
The ālaya-vijñ āna changes from moment to moment; vijñ āna of one moment
is replaced by the vijñ āna of the next moment, resulting in the formation of a
stream of successive moments of consciousness. The self or ego is a complex
form of this stream of consciousness, and alleged external objects are simply images that appear in the stream. The transformation of consciousness
is without any beginning and it continues to fow until the stored seeds are
rooted out and one attains enlightenment.
Besides these transformations of vijñ āna, there is nothing else. Everything
else is imagined (vikalpa); it has no reality. Hence, the thesis of vijñapti-only.
Citta is one, undifferentiated being, but conceptually divided into the subject
and the object. In reality, there is neither. The object of vikalpa is asat; vikalpa
arises without a real object. These stratifcations of consciousness create the
mistaken belief that there are real objects such as trees and frying pans that
exist independently of consciousness. Vasubandhu outlines how each of these
stratifcations can be overcome and how perfect wisdom can be attained. The
state of perfect wisdom is pure—it has no object, no passions; it is a state of
peace and joy.
It is important to remember that Vasubandhu distinguishes among three
natures or realms.43 The frst is that which is imagined (parikalpita) but appears to be real; it only has subjective being (prajñaptisat). The second is the
empirical realm (paratantra) or the realm of causality (prat ītyasamutpāda), which
accounts for our mistaking impermanence for permanence; the dependent
has both subjective and objective beings. The third is the absolute or perfect
realm (parini ṣpanna), which is the ultimate truth of all events and the true nature of things (dharmat ā); it is free from the subject-object distinction. This absolute realm is tath āt ā (suchness or thatness), that is, a nature which cannot be
conceptually or linguistically articulated, which is not a universal shared by
many particulars, and which is uniquely each event’s own nature. It is nirvāṇa.
Repeated meditative practices remove past residual impressions, and when
all deflements and conceptual constructions are purifed, one is enlightened.
The tath āt ā alone is pure vastu sat (real existence).
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All three are simultaneously ni ḥsvabh āva (without own-nature).44 The
frst is lak ṣa ṇa-ni ḥsvabh āvat ā, or empty by defnition. The second is utpattini ḥsvabh āvat ā, or empty in the sense of Dependent Origination. The third
alone is really empty, param ārtaha-ni ḥsvabh āva. Vasubandhu concludes by
noting that when consciousness does not apprehend any object, it is situated
in consciousness-only.45 This is trans-worldly consciousness. What happens
is “resolution at its basis” (āśraya-parāv ṛtti); it is called the dharmak āya of the
Buddha.46
VI Concluding Remarks
The basic thesis of Yog ācāra is that consciousness alone is. It is sāk āra, that is,
it has a form of its own (and there is no formless consciousness); the form of
consciousness really passes as its object or ālambana. Consciousness of yellow
and consciousness of blue differ, not merely in the objects, which are yellow
and blue respectively, but in the consciousnesses themselves—they really are
different: One is the consciousness of blue, the other is the consciousness of
yellow. To the ordinary mind, the ālambana, the object, seems to be out there
in the world. They argue that the so-called ālambana that appears in a consciousness is nothing, but the form of the consciousness and it is given along
with the self-manifestation (svasa ṃvedana) of that consciousness. This is the
basic thesis, but this thesis has given rise to both internal and external problems. Internal problems concern the relation of this thesis to the Buddha’s own
teaching, and to the nature of the Buddha-consciousness—the consciousness
of the enlightened one, irrespective of whether one is talking about the arhat
or the boddhisattva. The external problems concern the relation of this thesis
to the ordinary point of view, which is committed to subject-object dualism.
Ordinarily, the objects that we perceive have determinate places in space,
and we consider our particular perceptions to be caused by those supposed
external objects. But if there is no external object, why is it that our perception
in an instance is of this place and not of another place? Vasubandhu replies to
such objections by citing the case of dreams, in which we also perceive things
at determinate places there and not here. If the objects of dream consciousness could have such determancies, so also could the seeming objects of our
perceptions—even if there is no real object outside.
This is a diffcult argument and requires a careful development, considering the question whether the analogy drawn between waking and dreaming holds good. It would be instructive to consider in this context Descartes’
so-called dream argument. Whereas Descartes asks how we can distinguish
waking from dreaming, Vasubandhu says that the waking experience and the
dream experience are so alike that representations in both have determinate
positions without there being an external object. Dream representations arise
without there being an external object; similarly, ordinary waking perceptions could be law-governed without the causal infuence of supposed external
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objects. In both cases, we have intentionalities—or consciousness as being of
something—which cannot be reduced to causality.
One way of preserving the intentional relation without bringing in causality is to appeal to a coherence among different minds, or to the intentionalities belonging to the same mind. Another example Vasubandhu gives in
his defense seems to appeal to such a coherence: How is it, he asks, that the
evil spirits who suffer in the boiling caldrons of hell have those representations even though there is no such hell? In this case, he seems to argue that
it is because of their common, shared representations that the appearance of
something being there arises. But be that as it may, Vasubandhu holds that
the representations are of something or the other, and this something or the
other really belongs to the structure of those representations, so that only the
representations exist. The data of our experiences do not require us to posit
anything other than our representations.
Vasubandhu also discusses our perceptions of other minds. In his thinking, other minds have a different metaphysical status from material objects.
The material objects that appear, as we saw, are forms of consciousness, but
other minds are independent realities. He therefore concedes that when I experience other minds—for example, if I perceive that another person is in
pain—I am not simply experiencing an intentional object, but also having an
experience that transcends it. Nevertheless, my experience of other minds is
intentional and has a content that the other person is in pain, even though I do
not experience that pain directly. In contrast, when the Buddha knows other
minds, he directly experiences what they experience, including their pain.
The contrast between the experience of a person, which is intentional, and
the experience of the Buddha, which is non-intentional, causes Vasubandhu’s
exposition of many problems. Perhaps the distinction between the representational consciousness of persons and the direct pure consciousness of the enlightened one may provide further insights. Nirvāṇa brings about a complete
reversal of consciousness, in which the ālaya-vijñ āna is dissolved, so that the intentional consciousness—whose object-directedness was being determined by
the ālaya—sheds its intentionality and becomes pure non-intentional knowledge. This is the knowledge of the Buddha; it is both vijñapti and not-vijñapti,
both mind and not-mind.
Whether Vijñānavāda can be called an idealism in the Western sense is
diffcult to decide, because for that purpose we need to determine what is
meant by “idealism.” There is no need to determine that here, but it is rather
important to clearly understand the concept of “vijñ āna” and the associated
vocabulary Vasubandhu uses in the context of Indian philosophical rhetoric.
For a long time, the Vaibhāṣika discussions continued to determine the status
of vastu sat and prajñapti sat. For Vaibhāṣikas everything is vastu sat, consisting of real dharmas; even nirvāṇa is conceived as a vastu, a positive entity. The
Sautrāntikas deny to nirvāṇa this status, asserting that only the present dharma
is vastu sat; the others are absences. For the Mādhyamika, everything is śūnya
(empty); there is no vastu sat. For the Vijñānavāda, the positive entities that we
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perceive as things of the world are only prajñaptisat or jñ āna of the enlightened
one, that is, nirvāṇa is vastu sat.
The truth of vijñapti or intentional consciousness is śūnyat ā, but the nature of
intentional consciousness as śūnyat ā is realized only in enlightenment; it is also
called tath āt ā or suchness,47 which is seen as the truth of everything, including intentional consciousness. This explains why the Buddha-consciousness,
although non-representational and hence non-mental, is yet also mental,
because it knows the truth of mental consciousness. This explains why the
Buddha-consciousness is treated within the Yog ācāra school, as we fnd in
Asa ṅga, as being embodied, although one has to distinguish between the three
bodies of the Buddha: Dharma k āya (the body of truth), sambhoga k āya (the body of
communication), and nirm āṇa k āya (physical body).48 The body, though a
hindrance to the functioning of consciousness in the case of ordinary persons, still functions through its medium such that the visual consciousness
functions through the eyes, the tactual consciousness through the skin, and
so on. The Buddha could not possibly have taught without having a body, so
he freely assumes a body which, in his case, is not a negation nor a limitation on his consciousness, but a freely used medium for showing his infnite
compassion for others. Note that with the idea of the tath āt ā or suchness
which is the essence of all beings, Asa ṅ ga and indeed all Yog ā c ā ras come to
a position which is very near the Ved ā ntic doctrine, i.e., ātman is the essence
of all things.
Study Questions
1. Explain the key philosophical conceptions of the Vaibhāṣika school.
What are some of the differences between the Vaibhāṣikas and the
Sautrāntikas?
2. The theory of momentariness (k ṣanikavāda) plays a central role in the
Buddhist schools. The four schools of Buddhism you have studied in this
chapter subscribe to the doctrine of momentariness. Discuss each account and the differences among them. Is there any way to reconcile the
differences? Which account seems more defensible to you, and why?
3. Explain Nāgārjuna’s notions of śūnyat ā (emptiness) and niḥsvabh āvat ā (lack
of inherent essence or absence of the essence of things). What are their
strengths and weaknesses?
4. Vasubandhu denies the existence of the external world and argues for
“vijñaptim ātra” (“cognition only”). Critically evaluate Vasubandhu’s arguments against the existence of external objects.
5. Opponents argue, “Nāgārjuna’s critical dialectic is destructive, that his
position is nihilist, and that his entire system is foundationless if emptiness if not real.” Do you agree with this assessment? Argue for or against.
Give reasons for your position.
6. Do you think that the ideal of arhat diminishes the value and importance
of nirvāṇa as a goal of Buddhism? Defend or criticize the claim.
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Suggested Readings
J. Takakusu, The Essentials of Buddhist Philosophy (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass
Publishers, 1978) and Yamakami Sogen, Systems of Buddhistic Thought
(Varanasi: Bhartiya Publishing house, 1979) contain helpful discussions of the four schools of Buddhism. David J. Kalupahana, A History of
Buddhist Philosophy: Continuities and Discontinuities (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass
Publishers, 1994) contains concise chapters on Abhidhamma and Nāgārjuna.
Mark Siderits, Buddhism as Philosophy: An Introduction (Indianapolis, IN:
Hackett, 2007) provides a thought-provoking discussion of Yog ācāra and
Madhyamaka.
For translations of Vasubandhu’s works, see S. Anacker, Seven Works of
Vasubandhu (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1984); Thomas Kochumuttom, A
Buddhist Doctrine of Experience: A New Translation and Interpretation of the Works
of Vasubandhu the Yogācārin (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1982); and Thomas
E. Wood, Mind Only: A Philosophical and Doctrinal Analysis of the Vijñanavāda
(Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1994). For translations of MMK, see Kenneth
Inada, Mūlamadhyamakak ārik ā, Bibliotheca Indo-Buddhica Series, No. 127
(Delhi: Sri Satguru Publication, 1993); David J. Kalupahana, Mūlamadhyamakak ārik ā of Nāgārjuna (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1991).
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14
THE VEDĀ N TA DAR Ś A NA
I Introduction
Of all the systems of Indian philosophy, Vedānta has been the most infuential. This system differentiated itself into many sub-schools, each having
a well-argued philosophical position and a strong religious following. The
term “Vedānta” (i.e., “Veda” + “anta”) literally means “the end of the Vedas.”
“Veda,” derived from the root “vid,” means “knowledge”; “anta” has two
meanings: The fnal place reached as a result of the effort, and the goal toward which all effort is to be directed, i.e., the Upaniṣads, which themselves
are often referred to as “Vedānta.” Accordingly, “Vedānta” refers to the doctrines set forth in the part of the Vedic corpus known as the Upaniṣads, one of
the three bases of the Vedānta school.
The Upaniṣads, you might recall, are replete with ambiguities, inconsistencies, and contradictions; they do not contain a systematic and logical
development of ideas. Several commentators made attempts to systematize
the teachings of the Upaniṣads; Bādarāya ṇa in his Ved āntas ūtras (aphorisms of
Vedānta) or Brahmas ūtras (aphorisms about brahman) made one such attempt.
These aphorisms constitute the second basis of the Vedānta schools. The
Bhagavad-G īt ā, a chapter of the great epic Mah ābh ārata, probably added much
later, constitutes the third basis.
The Vedānta school received its formal expression in the Ved āntas ūtras. The
term “s ūtra” literally means “thread,” and is related to the verb “to sew.” It refers to a short aphoristic sentence, and collectively to a text consisting of such
statements. It is diffcult to date the Ved āntas ūtras. However, given that these
s ūtras contain a refutation of most of the schools of Indian philosophy, which
date from 500 to 200 BCE, the Ved āntas ūtras could not have been composed
earlier than 200 BCE. S ūtras usually do not consist of more than two or three
words. Brevity and terseness characterize these sutras. The laconic contents of
these s ūtras have given rise to divergent interpretations within different schools
of Vedānta. The interpretations differ regarding the nature of the brahman, relation between the brahman and the world, the self, and mok ṣa. One’s interpretation of the Vedānta doctrines may be substantiated as much by independent
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reasoning as by citing and interpreting sentences from its three bases. One is
a founder of a new sub-school if one has substantiated the interpretations of
the doctrines by suitably commenting upon these foundational texts, in the
technical jargon, by writing bh āṣyas (commentaries) on them.
The two better known schools of Vedānta are Advaita Vedānta (nondualism) of Śaṃ kara and Rāmānuja’s Viśiṣtādvaita (qualifed non-dualism). Besides these two, there are several sub-schools, e.g., those of Madhva, Bhāskara,
Vallabha, and Nimbārka. Each of these commentators earned the honorifc title
of “Ācārya” (though today, it has lost its past signifcance). These schools may be
grouped under two basic headings: Non-dualistic and theistic. In this chapter I
will discuss two schools of Vedānta: Śaṃ kara’s non-dualistic (Advaita) Vedānta
and Rāmānuja’s theism or qualifed non-dualism (Viśiṣṭādvaita).
II Advaita Vedānta
Advaita Ved ā nta, the non-dualistic school of Ved ā nta, has been and continues to be the most widely known system of Indian philosophy in the East
and the West alike. Śa ṃ kara was the founder (primary explicator) of this
school. He was born in K ā ladi, a village in the southern Indian state of
Kerala, India, in 788 CE, into a Brahmin family known for its learning. His
parents named him “Śa ṃ kara” meaning the “giver of prosperity.” We do
not know much about his father; he died very young. His mother played an
important role in shaping his life. Śa ṃ kara left home at an early age in the
search of truth and a guru (teacher). When he reached a Śaivite sanctuary
along Narmada river in north-central India, guru Govinda accepted him as
his pupil. He studied the Vedas, the Upani ṣads, and the Brahmas ūtras with
him. There is no record of how long he stayed with Govinda; however, there
is no doubt that Śa ṃ kara received most of his training under the guidance of
Govinda and attained the highest knowledge at a very early age. He traveled
across India debating with opponents and reforming aberrant practices. His
biographies vary signifcantly in terms of the journeys he took, pilgrimages,
and monastic orders he established all over India. He died at the early age
of thirty-two. Śa ṃ kara was not only a philosopher but also a mystic, a saint,
and a poet.
An enormous amount of work has been attributed to him. His achievements
are remarkable, and the short span of his life makes his contributions more
remarkable. Some of his important works are Bhagavadag īt ābh āṣya (BGBh),
Brahmas ūtrabh āṣya (BSBh), Upade śasāhasr ī (Upade śa), B ṛhad āra ṇyakopanisadbh āṣya
(BUBh), and Chandog yopani ṣadbh āṣya (CUBh).
In the Advaita tradition, immediately following Śa ṃ kara, three lines of interpretation developed:
1
The frst school originated with Sureśvara (800 CE) and his pupil
Sarvajñātma Muni (900 CE). Sureśvara was one of the direct disciples
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of Śa ṃ kara. His important works are Nai ṣkarmyasiddhi (NS), Tattir īyopanisadbh āṣyavārtika (TUBV), and B ṛhad āra ṇyakopani ṣadbh āṣyavārtika (BUBV).
Sarvajñātma Muni was the author of Sa ṃk ṣepa śār īraka (SS).
The second school originated in the writings of Padmapāda (820 CE),
Śa ṃ kara’s closest disciple. He wrote Pañcapādik ā (PP), an exposition of
Śa ṃ kara’s commentary on the frst four aphorisms of Brahmas ūtras (BS).
Prak āśātman (1000 or 1100 CE?) wrote a commentary on PP entitled
Pañcapādik āvivara ṇa (PPV). It is the basis of the Vivara ṇa school, and the
school is named after it.
The third school is associated with Vācaspatimiśra (840 CE). He developed in considerable detail and subtlety the views of Ma ṇḍ ana Miśra,
a contemporary of Śa ṃ kara, and his interpretation came to be known
as the Bhāmat ī tradition. Vācaspati’s commentary on Śa ṃ kara’s Brahmas ūtras, from which this school receives its name, is known as Bh āmat ī
(the lustrous). In this chapter, I will primarily draw from Śa ṃ kara’s BSBh,
and my analysis will be from the Vivara ṇa perspective.
2
3
Śa ṃ kara, according to a well-known legend, was asked to summarize his po-
sition in one verse. He summarized it in one-half of a verse, which runs as
follows: (1) The brahman is the truth, (2) the world is false, and (3) the fnite
individual is none other than the brahman (“brahma satya ṃ, jagan mithyā, jīvo
brahmaiva n āparaḥ”).1 His major works reiterate this philosophy in different
ways. To have a clear understanding of Śa ṃ kara’s philosophy, it is essential
that we understand the meaning and ramifcations of these three assertions.
I will begin with the frst.
Fundamental Postulates
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
The brahman, the only reality, is non-dual (advaita).
The brahman is both the effcient and the material cause of the
world.
The world, a creation of (m āyā), is false; it is empirically real.
The self and the brahman are non-different.
There are six sources of true cognition (pram āṇas): Pratyak ṣa (perception), anum āna (inference), śabda (testimony), upam āna (comparison), arth āpatti (postulation or presumption), and anupalabdhi
(non-cognition).
Realization of the brahman (mok ṣa) is the goal of human life.
To realize the brahman or mok ṣa, one must follow the path of knowledge ( jñ āna-yoga).
Mok ṣa is the realization of one’s true nature.
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Metaphysics
The Brahman is the Truth
The brahman, argues Śa ṃ kara, is the highest transcendental truth. It alone is.
It is that state of being where all subject/object distinction is obliterated. It is
pure consciousness that is timeless, unconditioned, undifferentiated, without
beginning, and without end.
The brahman is the most important metaphysical concept of Advaita
Vedānta. Initially the word “brahman” meant “prayer” or “speech,” and eventually it came to signify two allied meanings: “the greatest” and “the root of
all things.” Etymologically, “brahman” has two constituents: The verbal root
√bṛh, meaning “to grow,” “the great,” “to burst forth,” and the suffx “matup,”
signifying everything grows from the brahman.
The brahman has been described positively as well as negatively in the
Upaniṣads.2 Positively, the brahman has been described as “the real, the knowledge, and the infnite,”3 “all this is verily the brahman, let it be worshipped as
tajjal ān,” etc.,4 and negatively, it has been described as “not gross, not subtle,
not short, not long, not red, not adhesive, without shadow, without darkness,
without air, without space, without attachment, without taste, without smell,
without eyes….”5
Śa ṃ kara takes the negative statements to be higher than the affrmative
ones, because negation becomes signifcant only after an affrmation has
been made (which is then negated). It is a lower level of understanding to
regard brahman as omnipresent, such that everything whatsoever is brahman.
But it is only after one has made such a statement, that one can proceed to
negate what has already been affrmed and say, “none of this is the brahman.”
“This” refers to any possible object. The brahman transcends the world of
objects (material things) and fnite individuals. Manyness, plurality, and differences are all appearances. In fact, the two brahmans are one. The teachings of Advaita affrm one simple truth: There is one reality, although it
is known by different names. Nirgu ṇa and sagu ṇa brahman refer to the same
reality; they have the same referent, though the senses differ (very much
like the Fregean analysis of the “morning star” and “evening star”).6 The
brahman is one without any second; it does not admit of any real change nor
of any difference.
Śa ṃ kara’s non-dualism denies all differences external as well as internal
in the brahman. Other schools of Indian philosophy recognize some sort of
difference to be real: For example, the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas recognize a real difference between consciousness and its object, not to speak of the plurality of
conscious selves and of objects; the Buddhists of the Vijñānavāda school take
consciousness or cognitions alone to be real, but recognize internal difference
among the arisings and the perishings of momentary cognitions; the Sāṃ khya
recognizes both prak ṛti and puru ṣa as reals and an external difference among
many selves; and R āmānuja’s qualifed non-dualism (as we will see a little later
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in this chapter) asserts an internal difference between cit and acit, within the
unity of one being, i.e., the brahman. Śa ṃ kara’s non-dualism denies all external
as well as internal differences in the brahman.
Indian philosophers usually recognize three types of distinctions: (1) Sajāt īya
(difference between an individual cow and other cows), (2) vijātiīya (difference
between a cow and a horse), and svagata (the difference between the parts of a
whole (difference between one leg of a chair and other legs)). For Śa ṃ kara, reality being one and differenceless neither admits of negation nor of antecedent
negation nor of negation after destruction; thus, it is beginningless, endless,
eternal, and without any qualitative determination. Such being the nature of
the brahman, the world consisting of different things as well as different types
of things (conscious selves and non-conscious nature) is simply an appearance.
Sagu ṇa brahman has been variously described, viz., as satya ṃ (truth), jñ ānam
(knowledge), as anantam (infnite) and sat (existence), cit (existence), and ānanda
(existence), consciousness, and bliss), etc. Sagu ṇa brahman is the brahman about
which something can be said; it is the brahman as interpreted and affrmed by
the mind from a limited, empirical standpoint.
That the brahman is pure consciousness does not imply that consciousness is
an essential quality of the brahman, for that would amount to introducing an internal distinction within the brahman, i.e., the distinction between a substance
and its qualities. The brahman is not a substance, substance being an objective
category. Likewise, when the Upaniṣads say that the brahman is satya ṃ (truth),
jñ ānam (knowledge), and anantam (infnite),7 the intention is not to imply that
these are the qualities of the brahman, for that would amount to introducing an
internal difference in the brahman’s nature. The Advaitins therefore construe
such sentences of the Upaniṣads to mean three different ways in which, undifferentiated nature of the one, the brahman is being articulated. These words
serve to differentiate the brahman from their opposite qualities. To say that the
brahman is the truth, negates that the brahman is untruth, etc. No positive determination of the brahman is possible. This is very similar to Spinoza’s assertion
that every determination implies negation: Omnis determinatio est negatio. As the
Upaniṣads reiterate, the best way to describe the brahman is by saying that it
is “not-this,” “not-this.”8 Via negativa orients the mind of the aspirants toward
qualityless (nirgu ṇa) brahman. Nothing can be affrmed about it. Śa ṃ kara himself notes, “the reality is without an internal difference. …it is unthinkable; the
thought can be brought to it via negation of what can be thought.”9 Nothing
can be affrmed about the nirgu ṇa brahman.
What then is the criterion of “reality” that the Advaitin applies to reach this
ontological position?
Sublation (B ādha)
Śa ṃ kara uses “bādha,” which, in the context of his ontology, has been con-
strued as “cancellation” or “negation” or “contradiction.” Sublation is a mental process of correcting and rectifying errors of judgment. In this process one
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disvalues—more as a psychological necessity than from a purely logical point
of view—a previously held object or content of consciousness on account of its
being contradicted by a new experience. However, not all corrections and rectifcations fall under sublation. Suppose in an experiment I start with a hypothesis X believing that it would work in an experiment A. Further investigation
reveals that it would not, and I arrive at the conclusion that X will not work for
the experiment A. Rectifcation has occurred; this, however, is not sublation.
It not only requires the rejection of an object, or a content of consciousness,
but also that such rectifcation must occur in light of a new judgment to which
belief is attached and which replaces the initial judgment. In other words, for
sublation to occur in the above example, hypothesis X, on account of a, b, c,
must be replaced by, say, Y, which is more valuable, and to which belief is
attached. So, bādha not only requires the rejection of an object or a content of
consciousness, but also that such rectifcations occur in light of new judgments
to which belief is attached, and which replaces the initial judgment.10
Sublation
•
•
•
•
•
•
Sublation is a mental process of correcting and rectifying errors of
judgment.
It is an axio-noetic process.
It involves ordering of experiences.
A distinction between subject and object, consciousness and the
content of consciousness, experience and experienced is necessary
for sublation to occur.
Plurality of objects is necessary for sublation.
Anything that is in principle sublatable is of lesser value than that
with which it is sublated.
Sublation presupposes subject-object dichotomy, because it is the subject who
sublates the object. It requires rejection, turning away from an object or content of consciousness in favor of something to which more value is attached.
In his commentary on Brahmas ūtras,11 Śa ṃ kara uses the criterion of sublation to arrive at three levels of existence: Reality or absolute existence
(pāram ārthika satt ā), empirical-practical (vyavah ārika satt ā), and illusory (prātibh āsika satt ā).
Reality or absolute existence is that which in principle cannot be sublated
or canceled by any experience, because no experience can deny or disvalue it.
Reality is non-dual; it is the level of pure being. The act of cancellation presupposes a distinction between the experiencer and the experienced. It involves
a plurality of objects because cancellation juxtaposes one object or content of
consciousness against another incompatible object or content of consciousness
and judges the frst to be of lesser value. Thus, cancellation requires rejection,
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turning away from an object or content of consciousness in favor of something
to which belief, more value, is attached. The brahman has no dichotomy within
it; it is pure oneness and cannot be denied by any lower order of being. Therefore, no other object or content of consciousness can replace it. Brahman cancels everything while remaining uncancellable by any experience whatsoever.
“Consciousness is not,” argue the Advaitins, is not a possible determination,
for such a negation must itself be an act of consciousness, consciousness negating itself, which would be a self-contradiction. Given that consciousness does
not admit the possibility of its being negated or canceled, it is the only reality.
Thus, the brahman or consciousness belongs to the highest level of being.
Empirical-practical consists of those contents of experience that can only
be canceled by reality. This is the level of empirical existents. It includes our
experiences of the world of names and forms, multiplicity of empirical objects, other fnite individuals; in short, all subject-object distinctions that are
governed by the law of causation. Most of us live at this level, die at this level,
and are reborn at this level. At this level of experience, we take the world
and God to be separately real, and attribute to God all the qualities that
are generally associated with “God” in theism. God in this sense is sagu ṇa
brahman, the creator, maintainer, and destroyer of the world. He is an object
of worship.
Illusory existent consists of those contents of experience that can be canceled
by reality or by the empirical existents. Illusions, hallucinations, dreams, etc.,
belong to this level. An illusory existent is different from an empirical existent
insofar as it fails to fulfll the criteria of empirical truth. For example, a thirsty
traveler passing through a desert runs to a spot to quench his thirst. However,
upon reaching that spot he discovers that there is no water and that his perception of water was really a mirage. The illusion of water ends when the traveler,
in light of new experience, discovers that it was a mirage. The illusory existent,
i.e., the experience of mirage, is canceled by another empirical experience. In
short, all objects in principle can be negated. If X is an object, then the determination “X is not” is possible. It cannot therefore be ultimately real. The objects that belong to the empirical level can be canceled; therefore, they are not
real, better-yet, false, which leads me to the second assertion mentioned above.
The World is False (Mithyā)
Let us now discuss what Śa ṃ kara meant by his assertion that the world is
“mithyā.” “Jagat” is usually translated as the “world,” the realm of birth and
death; it is where suffering is manifested. The standard English translation of
the word “mithyā” is “false.” So, it makes sense to say that Śa ṃ kara is asserting
the falsity of the world. However, what does Śa ṃ kara mean by “falsity”? What
is entailed in his assertion? What is the relationship between the brahman and
the false world? Why, or who, creates this false world? A clear understanding
of the logical and ontological distinction between the false and the unreal is
essential for a proper understanding of the Advaita school.
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Reality, Empirical-Practical, and Unreality
Reality
•
•
•
•
Reality or absolute existence transcends all distinctions, oppositions, qualifcations, relations.
It is that which in principle cannot be canceled by any experience.
There is nothing higher than the experience of reality.
It is the experience that sublates everything else.
Empirical-Practical
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
Contents of empirical-practical level are in principle sublatable.
It is the realm of appearance.
Distinctions, oppositions, qualifcations, relations, and illusions
characterize this level.
The world is real from an empirical-practical standpoint; it is not a
fgment of one’s imagination.
To say that “X is false” does not mean that X has no reality. False
is an object of experience; it is empirically real. There is a kind of
temporality about it insofar as it is transcended, for example, the
rope-snake.
False is not unreal; it is grounded in reality.
It is sublatable by the experience of reality.
Unreality
•
•
•
•
Unreality is non-being.
Unreal does not have any objective counterpart.
It neither can nor cannot be sublated.
The concept of the “unreal” in Advaita is self-contradictory, for
example, the son of a barren woman.
Adhyāsa (Superimposition)
To understand what is entailed in Śa ṃ kara’s assertion that the world is false,
one must frst understand two crucial Advaita concepts, viz., “adhyāsa” (superimposition) and “m āyā” (ignorance). These concepts lie at the basis of Advaita
metaphysics and epistemology and would go a long way in helping us to come
to grips with the status of the world in Śa ṃ kara’s philosophy. Superimposition
refers to a simple, everyday experience in which one thing appears as another.
It is an erroneous cognition, an illusory appearance; it is a cognition of “that”
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in what is “not-that.” In superimposition, one apprehends a thing to be other
than what it is. Śa ṃ kara explains it thus: Adhyāsa is one thing appearing as
another, or rather “in one thing another appears,” where the latter is “like
something seen before” and the appearing is “like memory.”12
Most of us would agree that in everyday experiences we frequently perceive
one thing as another or wrongly ascribe the properties of one thing to another.
These are the cases of erroneous perception, and the mechanism that underlies it is called “adhyāsa” or “superimposition,” which in Advaita metaphysics
includes not only an experience of perceptual illusion but also what occurs in
the metaphysical situation when the brahman appears as the world, ātman as
fnite individuals, etc. In a superimposition, something functions as the locus,
the underlying substratum, and another entity is projected on it. The projected entity is false, and the substratum alone is real. Upon correction of the
error, the projected entity is canceled, and the substratum is revealed as real.
Adhyāsa (Superimposition)
Superimposition is an erroneous cognition; it is wrong identifcation.
It is:
•
•
•
the mixing of the real and the false;
seeing a thing in a locus where it does not exist; and
perceiving the attributes of one thing in another locus, etc.
Let me provide two illustrative examples: (1) The perception of a rope as
a snake, and (2) the perception of a crystal vase as red on account of the red
fower placed near it. In the frst case, one apprehends a thing to be other
than what it is; in the second, one falsely attributes the qualities of one thing
on another.
The two examples given above concern things existent in the world. Advaita Vedānta however affrms a more fundamental superimposition, i.e., the
superimposition of the world upon the brahman, which creates the sense that
the world is real. Just as in a rope-snake superimposition, a rope is experienced as a snake; similarly, under the superimposition of names and forms,
the brahman, the only reality, is experienced as the world. Thus, the Advaitins talk of superimposition not only regarding specifc experiences within the
world of appearance but also about the ontologically false status of the world
in general. Such superimpositions as a rope appearing as a snake begin and
end in time; these experiences are private because when I am misperceiving a
rope as a snake, you are not. But the superimposition of the world on the brahman does not have any beginning; they are public insofar as most of us make
the mistake of taking the world to be real, which it is not. Thus, when Śa ṃ kara
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asserts the falsity of the world, he is not asserting that the world is illusory
like snake-rope. The world is empirically real prior to the brahman-knowledge.
With the dawn of the brahman-knowledge, the world betrays its falsity. The
brahman is self-illuminating; it alone always is.
The Advaitins argue that our everyday experiences of superimposition assume various forms. Some superimpositions are that of identity (t ād ātmya)13 as
articulated in judgments like “I am this” (uttered pointing to my body), “I am
a human.” Here the superimposition is of the body on the self. Again, there
are superimpositions of properties and substantives. There is the superimposition of the properties of the body on the self, e.g., “I am fat,” “I am thin”; of
such mental states as desires, doubt, pleasure, pain, e.g., “I am happy,” “I am
virtuous”; and of the properties of the sense organs on the self, e.g., “I am
blind,” “I am deaf.” When a shell (on the beach) appears as silver, or a rope as
a snake, one substantive is superimposed upon another. The thrust of Śa ṃ kara’s arguments is as follows: Superimposition assumes the form not only of the
“I” but also of the “mine.” The former is the superimposition of the substance
(dharmī ), the latter of the attribute (dharma). The reciprocal superimposition of
the self and the not-self, and of the properties of the one on the other, results in
the bondage of the empirical self. In other words, all appearances—the world
appearance as well as the appearance of individuals—are due to superimposition (of one thing upon another).
The above discussion makes it obvious that superimposition plays a crucial
role in Śa ṃ kara’s philosophy; thus, it is not surprising that Śa ṃ kara begins his
commentary on the Brahmas ūtras with superimposition. Before concluding this
section, I would like to underscore two points: (1) Irrespective of the sense of
adhyāsa under consideration, it is important to remember that superimposition
is not possible without a substratum. Padmapāda brings out this point clearly,
when he defnes adhyāsa as “the manifestation of the nature of something in
another (thing) which is not of that nature,”14 and argues that “superimposition without a substratum cannot even be conceived, let alone experienced.”15
(2) When other schools of Indian philosophy speak of the false identifcation,
they talk of the false identifcation between the two reals, the Advaita account
of the false identifcation involves mutual identifcation of the real and the
nonreal, of the self and the not-self and their attributes. As a result, the self
becomes entangled in the world of becoming (sa ṃsāra).
At this point, one may ask: Why do we superimpose? Śa ṃ kara argues that
superimposition is due to ignorance (m āyā or avidyā); each superimposition
is the result of the previous superimposition and gives rise to the succeeding
one; in other words, superimposition is beginningless; it is the same as avidyā
or ignorance, which I will discuss next.
Māyā or Avidyā
Śa ṃ kara uses this concept to establish his central thesis that the brahman is the
only reality, and the multiplicity of names and forms (n āma-r ūpa) is only an
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appearance. Etymologically, the term “m āyā” is derived from the root √m ā,
meaning “measuring.” With the concept of “m āyā,” Śa ṃ kara measures out the
world, so to speak; or the world is what is measurable. The term “m āyā” occurs in the Ṛg Veda, where it has been used as the creative power of the deities.
With this power, various deities, for example, Indra and Agni, like a magician,
assume many forms.16
The concept of “m āyā” does not occur in the Upaniṣads in a fully developed
form, though the idea was not entirely foreign to the seers of the Upaniṣads.
Yajñavalkya, for example, states that there is duality “as it were,”17 meaning
that the multiplicity of names and forms is not real; it is a creation of m āyā. In
the later Upaniṣads, e.g., Śvet ā, m āyā is used in the sense of illusion, and the
Lord is said to be m āyin.18 The Advaitins use it to explain the appearance of
the world.
Māyā is usually translated as “illusion.” This translation, however, does not
capture the full import of the concept. Rather than trying to give one-word
translation, I will clarify it by setting forth its ontological, epistemological,
and psychological meanings. Ontologically, m āyā is the creative power of the
brahman which creates the variety and multiplicity of the phenomenal world
and makes us believe that it is real. Epistemologically, m āyā is our ignorance
(avidyā) as to the difference between reality and appearance. Māyā disappears
at the dawn of the brahman-knowledge. Ignorance obscures pure consciousness
and makes all empirical distinctions appear. Thus, epistemologically, the distinctions between the subject who knows, the object known, and the resulting
knowledge are due to ignorance. From a psychological point of view, m āyā is
our tendency to regard the appearance as real, and vice versa. The empirical
world is not real; however, our inclination is to believe that it is real.
Another term used for ignorance is avidyā, which Śa ṃ kara uses more frequently than “m āyā.” For him avidyā is the same as adhyāsa; it is a kind of psychic deflement, a “natural” propensity to err,19 the seed of the whole world,20
and it generates attachments from a psychological perspective.21 Māyā occurs
less frequently than either avidyā or n āma-r ūpa; it is used in the sense of falsity,
deception, and magical power.22 Avidyā has generally been given precedence
over m āyā in the matters of bondage and freedom; avidyā is the cause of a
person’s bondage.
In his writings, Śa ṃ kara does not make a distinction between m āyā and
avidyā; he uses them interchangeably. For Śa ṃ kara m āyā is avidyā. In one of
the passages, in response to the p ūrvapak ṣin’s objection that there is a confict
between the Advaita thesis that God is the creator, sustainer, etc., of the world,
and the thesis that the brahman is the only reality, Śa ṃ kara argues that the
qualities of omniscience, etc., are attributed to the brahman to make the world
appearance possible.23 Māyā and avidyā are not different; however, from the
lower perspective, m āyā is a fgment of imagination (avidyākalpita). Thus, both
m āyā and Īśvara are avidyākalpita.
There are many ways of distinguishing the two; we, however, would settle
for the simplest: Māyā is cosmic, root ignorance of the “world-experience,”
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while avidyā is individual ignorance. Upon attaining the brahman-knowledge,
avidyā disappears; however, m āyā still continues, because it creates the appearance of the world. The point to remember is as follows: Ignorance not only
conceals (āvara ṇa) the real nature of the brahman but makes it appear as something else. In other words, fnite individual selves on account of ignorance not
only do not see the brahman as the brahman but also see it as something else, i.e.,
as the phenomenal world (vik ṣepa).
For the Advaitins, ignorance is not a mere absence of knowledge, but is
rather a positive entity (bh āvapad ārtha), although the negative prefx of the term
“avidyā” (“a” = “not” + vidyā = “knowledge”) creates the misleading impression that it is a negative entity, a mere absence of knowledge. The Advaitins
advance the following argument for the positivity of ignorance: I have a direct
awareness of my ignorance. Such sentences as “I am ignorant of X” provide
a testimony about its positive nature. How is such a direct awareness of my
ignorance of something possible? If the “ignorance of X” were the same as “the
absence of the knowledge of X,” then the latter absence could be perceived
(within me) if and only if I knew the counter-positive of this absence, which
is the “knowledge of X.” In other words, for me to perceive the absence of an
elephant in my living room, I must have the knowledge of an elephant. But if I
have the knowledge (of X or the elephant), then I would not be ignorant (of X or
the elephant), and I would not have the knowledge that “I am ignorant of X.”
This diffculty, argue the Advaitins, can only be avoided if ignorance is a positive entity, and this positive entity conceals X.24 The Advaitins further hold that
ignorance is not only a positive entity; it is also beginningless because when one
says, “I am ignorant,” it does not make sense to ask them when they began to be
ignorant. Though beginningless, ignorance does have an end.
Irrespective of whether ignorance is taken to be positive wrong knowledge
or lack of knowledge or doubt, it is destroyed by right knowledge.25 These
three are similar insofar as they conceal the real nature of the brahman and
are dispelled by the knowledge of the brahman. One reality appears as many
because of ignorance. To substantiate his basic thesis of non-dualism, Śa ṃkara uses the contrast between the empirical and the real to demonstrate the
apparent character of the world, as well as to make the Upaniṣadic use of
the “sagu ṇa brahman/God” intelligible. Thus, when the Advaita commentators
emphasize that the false is indescribable, they mean that it is neither real (sat)
nor unreal (asat). False is that which is experienced but subsequently canceled.
Given that it is experienced as being there, it cannot be unreal, because what
is unreal (e.g., hare’s horn, square circle) is non-being. Unreal objects do not
exist. They do not have any objective counterpart, so they can never become
an object of experience. A false entity has an objective counterpart, so it is experienced, though sublated subsequently, i.e., negated in the very same locus
where it was experienced. Therefore, the world is neither sat or real, nor asat
or unreal.
Advaita philosophers usually give the example of the experience of an illusory object—e.g., when one mistakes a rope for a snake in a dim light—to
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explain falsity. What does one see in such an illusory experience? One is neither perceiving a mental state, nor what does not exist, nor the rope that actually exists there, one in fact sees a snake out there in front of the perceiver, and
this seeing—before the correction of the illusion—is hardly distinguishable
from the veridical perception of a snake. However, when a person’s illusion is
corrected, he does not see the snake any longer, and says “it was not a snake; it
is a rope.” In this illusory experience, one remembers the qualities of a snake,
and superimposes them on a rope. The superimposed is mithyā, that on which
it is superimposed is real. In other words, the rope one mistakes to be a snake
is a real rope—albeit only empirically real. Thus, when Śa ṃ kara argues that
the empirical world is false, he is not saying that it is non-existent or unreal
(non-being). The world is different from both the real (brahman) and the unreal (non-being). It is not real because it is sublatable. It is not unreal because
unlike the unreal objects the world appears to us, it is not non-being. The
objects of the world, though not ultimately real, possess a different order of
reality; they are empirically real. This explains why Śa ṃ kara describes the
world as different from the real, the unreal, and the illusory existence (snakerope illusions, mirage, etc.). It is the real that appears, and so every appearance has its foundation in reality. One does not experience a mirage in one’s
living room, but only under certain empirical conditions. In this context, it is
important to remember that falsity characterizes both the illusory objects and
the empirically real objects; they are given (dṛśyatva). The distinction between
the “illusory” and the “empirically real” is based on purely practical considerations; the distinction that the illusory alone is false (mithyā) is itself false
(mithyātvamithyātva).26
Śā str ī in his commentary uses mithyātva (falsity) and sublatability (bādhitatvā)
synonymously. He gives the following three meanings of mithyātva:
1
2
3
that which does not exist in the three divisions of time—past, present,
and future;
that which is removable by knowledge; and
that which is identical with the object of sublation.
Mithyātva (falsity) causes sublatability, which means that mithyātva and sublation are the same, because the instrumental suffx in “mithyātvena bādhitatvāt”
conveys the sense of identity.27 Madhusūdana, in his Advaitasiddhi, gives fve
defnitions of mithyātva. The thrust of the fve defnitions is that mithyā and its
own absolute negation share the same locus.28
In this section, I have tried to emphasize the distinction between the false
and the unreal. I do realize that it is diffcult to translate the term “mithyā”
into English, because there is no word in the English language that exactly
captures the connotation of “mithyā.” No matter how one translates it, one must not
lose sight of the logical and ontological distinction between mithyā and unreal (asat), which
is very crucial for a proper understanding of the Advaita school. The world in Advaita is
not unreal.
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Real, False, and Unreal Revisited
Reality
•
•
•
•
Reality was real, is real, and forever will remain real.
It is unsublatable in the three divisions of time.
It is non-dual.
It is timeless, undifferentiated, unconditioned, non-duality.
False (Empirical-Practical)
•
•
•
•
•
False is neither real nor unreal.
False is sublatable.
False is empirically real, was empirically real, and forever will remain empirically real.
False functions in duality and multiplicity.
False is indescribable.
Unreal
•
•
•
Unreality was unreal, is unreal, and will forever remain unreal.
Unreality is non-being.
It neither can nor cannot be sublated by any experience.
Theory of Causality
Given that the world is false, the question arises, what precisely is the relationship between the brahman and the world? In what sense, if any, is the brahman
creator of the world?
There are two main theories of causality in Indian philosophy. The NyāyaVaiśeṣika asatk āryavāda holds that the effect is non-existent in the cause prior
to its production, so that the effect is a new entity, a new beginning. The
Sāṃ khya defends the opposite point of view, namely, satk āryavāda, or the
view that the effect is already there in the cause, that there is no new beginning, and that the effect is a transformation of the material cause.29 The
Advaita Vedānta rejects the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika view on the ground that what
is non-being can never come into being, that sat (being) cannot arise out of
asat (non-being)—that if it could, then anything would arise out of anything.
The Advaita subscribes to the Sāṃ khya view that the effect pre-exists in the
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cause, that nothing new can ever come into being. Though Śa ṃ kara subscribes to the Sāṃ khya theory of causation that the effect pre-exists in the
material cause prior to production to explain the relation, he replaces the
Sāṃ khya’s real transformation theory (pari ṇāmavāda) by effect being only a
seeming, an apparent modifcation theory (vivartavāda) of the cause; there is no
new production, nothing new arises, there is only a seeming production and
destruction.
The cause and the effect, argues Śa ṃ kara, are non-different. The cause,
i.e., the brahman, possesses many powers. An ocean, which is one, has different modifcations in the form of waves, foam, ripples, etc., but in reality these modifcations are not different from the ocean; similarly, one
brahman assumes many forms, which are non-different from the brahman. 30
For Śa ṃ kara, non-difference (ananya) of the cause and the effect means
that “the effect is none other than the cause.” 31 For example, when a gold
ring is made out of gold, it assumes a circular form (effect). Here, the form
changes, but the gold still retains its essential nature, i.e., the basic nature
of being gold. Thus, the effect, i.e., the ring, insofar as it shares this essential nature with its own cause, is not other than its cause (gold). Likewise,
the brahman, in its creative aspect (known as Īśvara, the lord, the sagu ṇa
brahman), is both the material and the effcient cause of the world. 32 Reality
is unchanging, and all change is apparent. Only in this sense the brahman
is the cause of this world.
Śa ṃ kara’s theory of causation raises many questions and concerns. In his
refutation of Sāṃ khya conception that non-sentient ( ja ḍa) prak ṛti is the cause
of the world, Śa ṃ kara categorically declares that the cetana (sentient) brahman,
and not acetana prakrti, is the cause of the universe.33 However, he also maintains that the effect is non-different from its cause.34 Opponents argue that
if the effect is non-different from its cause, how can an insentient world have
sentient brahman as its cause? Its cause can only be another insentient entity.
An examination of the meaning of the concepts “ ja ḍa” and “ananya” would
clarify the situation. Given that Sāṃ khya is a dualistic school of Indian philosophy, based on the bipolar nature of experience, it postulates two diametrically opposed principles: Prak ṛti and puru ṣa. Prak ṛti is insentient, meaning
it “lacks sentiency” ( ja ḍa); sentiency characterizes puru ṣa. For Śa ṃ kara’s Advaita, “ ja ḍa” means “non-manifestation” of sentiency, but not “lack” of sentiency. Thus, Śa ṃ kara argues that the world’s being insentient does not pose
any problem for his system, and the cetana (sentient) brahman can be the material and the effcient cause of the world.
Again, Śa ṃ kara argues that in asserting cause is non-different from the
effect, he is not asserting that cause and effect are identical; effect (the world),
though non-different from the cause (the brahman), is not identical with it. In
other words, though the effect is of the nature of the cause, the cause is not of
the nature of the effect.35 I will again use the earlier example of a ring made
of gold. Śa ṃ kara argues that the change of form (change into a circular ring)
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does not affect the integrity of gold. The effect (the ring), insofar as it shares
this essential nature with its cause, is none other than its cause (gold). There
are characteristics of the effect (ring) that do not belong to its cause (gold), e.g.,
the circularity of the ring (effect). Characteristics of a ring (as a ring) are never
the characteristics of the gold (as gold). Likewise, though the world, as an effect of the brahman, is none other than the brahman, the world still can have its
own features that do not characterize the brahman, and those features do not
affect the integrity of the brahman.
Śa ṃ kara devotes the entire frst chapter of his BSBh to establish that prak ṛti
as the cause of the world is based neither on śruti (scripture) nor on yukti (reason). Many post-Śa ṃ kara schools also subscribe to the view that the insentient
world has an insentient cause; they maintain that the brahman serves as the
ground of the insentient m āyā, the actual material cause of the world. For
Śa ṃ kara, however, there is only non-manifestation of sentiency. Hence, the
argument is that, though the effect is of the nature of the cause, the cause is
not of the nature of the effect.
Thus, though the brahman creates the appearance of the world, the brahman
remains unaffected by the world appearance. Śa ṃ kara uses the analogy of
a magician and his tricks to further explain this point. When a magician
makes one thing appear as another, spectators are deceived by it; however,
the magician himself is not deceived by it. Similarly, the brahman is that
great magician who conjures up the world appearance, makes the multiplicity of names and forms appear, and deceives us. However, the brahman
is not deceived by these tricks. The world is not unreal; it is an appearance
of the brahman, and it has no reality apart from the brahman. 36 Finite individual beings are deceived by this appearance; they mistake appearance
for reality.
If the question is asked: Why create at all? Śa ṃ kara would respond by saying that it is “līl ā,” i.e., the divine play;37 it proceeds from the nature of the
brahman. As kings engage in acts without any motive, without any purpose;
similarly, the brahman projects the world appearance without any motive,
without any purpose or necessity. It is like a children’s play, an activity flled
with fun, and this activity does not jeopardize the brahman’s oneness. There
is no “why” of creation. Epistemological appearance comes frst. Avidyā exists
prior to both the individual self and God. This, however, does not mean that
avidyā is temporally prior to the individual self and God, because the relationship is beginningless; temporality is not an issue here. When viewed logically,
we must have a conception of avidyā prior to arriving at the conceptions of
God and the individual self. Ontologically, the brahman comes frst. Once ignorance is destroyed by the knowledge of the real, the individual self is no
longer subject to ignorance. Hence, the next question is: What is the relationship between the individual self and the brahman? How does a fnite individual
dispel ignorance and see the brahman as brahman? This brings me to the last
part of the Śa ṃ kara’s assertion, i.e., the non-difference between the empirical
individual and the brahman.
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The Finite Individual and the Brahman are Non-different
In his BSBh, Śa ṃ kara categorically asserts that the fnite individual appears
to be different from the ātman on account of the limiting adjuncts (upādhis).
He, however, is non-different from the ātman, because it is the ātman who has
entered in all bodies as jīvātm ā. Thus, we may call the jīva a mere refection of
the ātman.38 Hence, the question is: What is the nature of this ātman of which
the jīva is a refection?
Ātman
The Advaitins explain the nature of the ātman as follows.
1
2
3
4
5
6
The ātman is pure consciousness; it is self-luminous.39 Following the
Upaniṣads, Śa ṃ kara argues that it is on account of the light of the ātman
that an individual self sits, goes out, walks, etc. It is the light that illuminates everything.
Given that ātman is not an object,40 none of the predicates that hold good
of objects can be ascribed to it. Being radically different from objects in
general, consciousness and (any) object cannot form an intelligible unity of
the sort “consciousness-of-an-object.”
Ātman or pure consciousness is neither in space nor in time. It is not born;
it does not die.41
Not being temporal, and not being an object of any sort, the ātman by
its very nature cannot be an object of any signifcant negation. For Advaita
Vedānta, the expression “the ātman is not” is meaningless, a possible selfcontradiction, while “the ātman is” is a tautology, because the very negation
of the ātman, as in the statement “the ātman is not,” testifes to the existence
of the ātman. Whereas Descartes restricts the argument to doubt (“that I am
doubting cannot be doubted”), the Advaitin argument is: “the act of negating
consciousness is an act of consciousness, and so is incoherent.”
Ātman is self-established.42
A consequence of this last thesis is that the self is eternal, having no beginning (that is to say, has no antecedent-negation), and no end (has no
subsequent negation).
To sum up, consciousness in Advaita is self-luminous, eternal, beginningless, undifferentiated, non-spatial, non-temporal, and non-intentional. One
all-pervasive “spirit,” the ātman, appears as if it is divided in many centers
of fnite consciousness, but that appearance is due to many psycho-physical
complexes, i.e., mind-body, ego-sense, and buddhi which create the misleading impression that each psycho-physical organism contains a distinct consciousness. In truth, however, as the Upaniṣads say “I am he” which is how
the wise man expresses his experience of the non-difference from the brahman
(the “I” refers to the fnite jīva consciousness and “he” refers to the brahman
consciousness).
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J īva
The goal of Advaita Vedānta, however, is to not simply understand the ātman
but to know it, to realize it. So, the questions arose: How does ātman relate to
the psycho-physical organism, or what we call “I”? How can one realize the
true self, or the identity between the ātman and the brahman? The initial inquiry takes place in this context. Thus, the very question “who am I?” points
to a kind of awareness of incompleteness and a desire to know more. Given
that the brahman defes all characterizations and descriptions, it seemed entirely appropriate to the seers to begin with the self. So, the nature of the self
became the focus of their investigation.
The jīva, argues the Advaitin, is a combination of two heterogeneous principles: Ātman, pure consciousness, and matter, mind-body organism. So, an
individual self is neither pure spirit nor matter but a blend of the two. It is
reality as the ātman, or the soul is its essence and it is appearance or false as
it is conditioned, fnite, and relative. The frst one, the essence, the ātman, is
shared by all human beings; it is common to me, to you, and to her. The matter, the mind-body organism, is a set of contingent features which provide the
description, whether I am a male or a female, whether I am a philosopher or
a scientist, whether I am white or black, middle class or rich, etc. The wrong
identifcation (adhyāsa) between the self and the not-self is the basis of our empirical existence. Just as in a snake-rope illusion, the snake is superimposed
upon the rope (the rope is the immediate datum of experience, the snake is
an object of past experience, and illusion arises when the qualities of a snake,
which was perceived in the past, are superimposed on “this,” i.e., a given
rope); similarly, fnitude and change that do not belong to the ātman, but are
mistakenly superimposed upon it due to ignorance. The ātman, the innermost
self of a person, is pure formless, undifferentiated consciousness. It cannot
be canceled by any other experience. The ātman and the brahman are not two
different ontological entities, but two different names for the same reality; the
underlying self of the individual is the brahman (tat tvam asi or “thou art that”
or “you are that”).
The Advaita writers take recourse to two ways of describing the appearance of this difference. On the frst account, the one brahman appears as many
jīvas in the same way as one moon appears to be many when refected in many
different pools of water. The one consciousness is refected in many ego-buddhi
complexes. On the second account, the situation is analogous to that between
the one infnite space and the many fnite spaces, the latter arising from the
former because of the many dividers (such as the walls of a room). The two
accounts are known as theory of refection and the theory of limitation respectively. They use two different metaphors to understand the metaphysical situation of the one appearing as many. Though everything is brahman, and there
is no other reality than the brahman, it is known by different names. In the
brahman-experience, subject and object coalesce into each other. In this experience one realizes that the brahman, the unchanging reality, which underlies
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the external world of names and forms, is also the reality that underlies the
internal world of change and appearances. Śa ṃ kara repeatedly affrms that
the brahman and the ātman are one. Upon attaining the knowledge of reality
(mok ṣa), ignorance disappears, the subject-object distinctions are obliterated,
the distinction between the self and non-self vanishes, and one experiences
the brahman as pure being, consciousness, and bliss. Hence, the question is:
How does one attain this knowledge of non-difference?
The Brahman-Knowledge or Mok ṣa
The goal of Advaita Vedānta is to teach the non-difference of the ātman and
the brahman, and to realize the state of highest knowledge. Such knowledge of
non-difference dispels ignorance and “brings about” mok ṣa or freedom. Mok ṣa,
argues Śa ṃ kara, is attained through jñ āna yoga, the path of knowledge. Like
most Vedic systems, but more so than others, the Advaita Vedānta depends
upon the Vedas and the Upaniṣads to substantiate its position and shows that
jñ āna yoga leads to self-realization.
Traditionally, in Hinduism, as we shall see in the chapter on the
Bhagavad-G īt ā, three paths have been discussed: The paths of action, knowledge, and devotion. It is customary to hold that all three yogas, when pursued
properly, lead to the same end, namely, mok ṣa (self-realization). Śa ṃ kara, however, argues that mok ṣa is the knowledge of the identity between the brahman
and ātman. Karma (action) and bhakti (devotion), at most, can “bring about” the
purifcation of the mind but cannot “bring about” fnal liberating knowledge.
Thus, devotion to God, leading an ethical life, or surrendering one’s actions
to God, no doubt useful, cannot lead to the realization of the brahman, which
is the fnal goal of human endeavors. For Śa ṃ kara, the study of the Vedāntic
texts is necessary to destroy ignorance. However, prior to pursuing such a
study, one should prepare one’s mind to comprehend the deeper meaning
of these texts. He discusses four qualifcations that make one ft to study the
Vedāntic texts by channeling the mind in the proper direction: (1) One must
be able to distinguish between appearance and reality, i.e., between the world
and the brahman; (2) one must give up desires for pleasure and enjoyment, i.e.,
renounce all worldly desires; (3) one must develop qualities such as detachment, patience, and powers of concentration; and (4) one must have a strong
desire to attain mok ṣa.43
After the mind is prepared, the aspirant goes to a guru (teacher) to study
the Vedāntic texts. The Advaitins recommend a three-step process: Śrava ṇa
(“hearing” that really consists of studying the Vedānta texts under a competent teacher), manana (refective thinking, i.e., thinking in order to remove all
doubts about the Advaita theses as well as advancing one’s own arguments
in support of these theses), and nididhyāsana (contemplative meditation which
strengthens the beliefs reached through the frst two stages and culminates
in the “intuitive” experience of one’s non-difference with the brahman). With
the constant meditation on the great saying of the Upaniṣads, “thou art the
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brahman,” one realizes that he is the brahman. The fnal liberating knowledge
(of the form “I am brahman”) is an “intuitive” knowledge arising from the verbal instruction (of the form “you are that”). One has the immediate experience of the brahman; the person realizes that he/she is non-different from the
brahman. The Advaitins call it “an immediate knowledge arising from the verbal instruction”—analogous to a wise man’s verbal instruction—“you are the
tenth man.”44 The last cognition destroys the primal ignorance and the original nature of the self is revealed. This state is known as the state of jivanmukti,
freedom in this life. Mok ṣa thus is not something that one looks forward to
after death. It is a stage of perfection attained here; it is freedom while one
is still alive. At death, such a person attains videhamukti, the absolute freedom
from the cycle of birth and rebirth, a state of equanimity, serenity, and bliss.
It is worth noting that mok ṣa “brings about” freedom only in a very Pickwickian sense. In truth, nothing happens, nothing changes; no perfection is
really “brought about.” The attainment of mok ṣa is not a new production; it is
the realization of something that was always there. The self is brahman, and the
mok ṣa is already an accomplished reality. Once the ignorance which had been
covering the true nature of the self is destroyed, the perfection that resides
eternally in the self becomes known, and the eternally free nature of the self
is manifested. In other words, mok ṣa is coming to realize one’s essence, which
was forgotten during the embodied existence. It is the realization of one’s potentialities as a human being; it is the highest realization.
A liberated person is an ideal of society, and his life worth emulating. After realizing mok ṣa, a liberated person helps others to realize mok ṣa. In other
words, the liberated life is not a life of inactivity as some might assume. Scholars
often argue that in a philosophy in which the brahman is the only reality, the
world an appearance, all distinctions between truth and falsehood become
meaningless. Such an argument is based on a misunderstanding of the Advaita position; it stems from a confusion between the real and the empirical. Prior to realizing mok ṣa, a person is responsible for his actions; he reaps
the consequences of his actions and is subject to ethical judgments. In other
words, from an empirical standpoint, distinctions between true and false are
not only meaningful but also very important. It is only when mok ṣa is attained
that everything is seen to be a product of ignorance. Good actions take one toward the brahman realization, and bad ones away from this goal. The brahman
is not an object of knowledge (it is not like Hegel’s absolute coming to know
itself); the brahman simply is. It is the highest knowledge.
Advaita Epistemology
Pram āṇas (Means of True Cognition)
I will begin with the pram āṇas. My analysis in this chapter is primarily based
on Ved ānta Paribh āṣā (VP),45 one of the most well-known Advaita epistemology
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texts, which offers its readers an analysis not only of the important issues surrounding the Advaita epistemology but also of the important ontological
problems.
Like all other systems, the Advaita Vedānta also developed a theory of
knowledge. A true cognition is pram ā (true or valid cognition). A pram ā that
excludes memory is a cognition which is not contradicted by any other cognition and has for its content an entity that is not already known. There are two
types of pram ā: The pram ā that excludes memory and the pram ā that includes
it. The former is the knowledge of an object that is neither contradicted nor
previously known, and the latter is the knowledge of an object that is not contradicted by any other object of cognition.
Non-contradiction is common to both defnitions. In the erroneous perception “this is silver,” the knowledge of silver continues to be true until the object
of cognition (i.e., silver) is not contradicted by another object of cognition (i.e.,
shell). This implies that the knowledge of silver as silver must be true until it is
not known that it is a piece of shell.
The second characteristic of pram ā is novelty or previous unknownness.
This characteristic excludes memory from the ambit of knowledge and raises
the question of the status of persistent knowledge. When I look at a chair
continuously, my experience of the frst moment of course is knowledge, but
what about my experience of the subsequent moments? Is it knowledge? Notwithstanding different answers, most schools hold that one’s experience of
subsequent moments is knowledge. The Advaitins, however, hold that such
questions do not arise in their epistemology because for them a cognition is
true until it is sublated by another cognition. The judgment “the table is”
remains the same if it is not sublated, making the questions regarding reproduction, subsequent moments, etc., moot. Now, an opponent of the Advaita
Ved ā nta may raise the following objection: For the Advaitin, an object, say,
a pitcher (indeed, any material object), is just false. If that is so, how can its
knowledge be a valid knowledge? The Advaitin’s reply to this question is as
follows: Until the brahman is realized, the knowledge of a pitcher remains
true. The word “uncontradicted,” when used to characterize the knowledge
of a pitcher, means “uncontradicted prior to brahman-cognition.”
A pram āṇa is the specifc cause of a pram ā.46 Ved ā nta Paribh āṣā discusses
pram āṇas in its attempt to provide an answer to the basic epistemological
question: How do we know? The Advaitins look to pram āṇas for removing
doubts that may have arisen. They accept four pram āṇas that the Naiy āyikas
do and add additional two to the list. Thus, the six pram āṇas that the Advaitins recognize are perception, inference, comparison, verbal testimony,
postulation or presumption, and non-perception. Of these, perception is
the most basic and of special importance; inference, comparison, and postulation are three non-perceptual pram āṇas; non-perception apprehends
non-existence; and verbal testimony is a pram āṇa for sensuous as well as
super-sensuous objects.
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Pratyak ṣa (Perception)
The term “pratyak ṣa,” derived from the roots “prati” (to, before, near) and ak ṣa
(sense organ) or ak ṣi (eye), etymologically signifes what is “present to or before
the eyes or any other sense organ.” It refers to sense-perception as a means of
immediate or direct knowledge of an object. Broadly speaking, the Advaitins
make a distinction between two kinds of perceptions: External and internal.
Perception by any of the fve sensory organs (sight, hearing, touch, taste, and
smell) is external, and the perceptions of pleasure, pain, love, hate, etc., are
internal.
The Advaitins argue that perception is immediate consciousness.47 However, for them, sense-perception is not the only means of immediate cognition:
The immediacy of cognition does not depend on its being caused by sense
organs. God, for example, has no senses, but those who believe in God believe
that they have immediate knowledge of things.
The theory of perception that the Advaitins develop is a kind of identity
theory: In a perceptual cognition, the inner sense goes out through the visual
sense organ (in the case of visual perception) and assumes the form of the object out there. This modifcation is known as “vṛtti.”48
In reviewing Advaita literature, one fnds different translations of the term
“vṛtti.” Śā str ī, for example, translates it as “psychosis.”49 Such a translation,
however, having pejorative psychological connotations, is misleading. Vṛtti is
an epistemic process or act. Let me elaborate. Briefy, a vṛtti is a mental modifcation that after assuming the form of the object enters the inner sense (antaḥkara ṇa), a passive instrument illumined by the sāk ṣin (witness-consciousness).50
The inner sense effects the connection between the vṛtti and pure consciousness. In other words, as we will see shortly, the perceptual process assumes the
following form: The object is presented, the vṛtti goes out, assumes the form of
the object, and transports it to the inner sense, which presents the vṛtti to the
sāk ṣin, which, in turn, illumines it. It contains the following fve steps.
1
2
3
4
5
The inner sense meets the organ of vision, reaches out to the object, and
becomes one with it.
The mental mode removes the veil of ignorance that had been hiding the
object from the perceiver.
The consciousness underlying the object, being manifested because of the
removal of the veil of ignorance, reveals the object.
The mind effects an identity between the consciousness conditioned by
the object and the consciousness conditioned by the subject.
As a result, the cognizer perceives the object.
The Advaitins explain the process with the help of an analogy:
Just as the water of a tank, having come out of an aperture, enters
a number of felds through channels assuming like those [felds] a
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quadrangular or any other form, so also the inner sense, which is
characterized by light, goes out [of the body] through the door [sense]
of sight, and so on, and [after] reaching the location of the object, say,
a pitcher, is modifed in the form of the objects like a pitcher. This
modifcation [of the inner sense] is called a “mental mode” (vṛtti). In
the case of an inferential cognition, and so on, however, there is no
going out of the inner sense to the location of fre, because fre, and so
on [other inferred objects], are not in contact with the sense of sight,
and so on [other sense organs].51
The point that the Ved ānta Paribh āṣā is trying to make is as follows: Just as
the water of a tank goes out through a hole, enters into a feld, and assumes
the form of the feld, rectangular or some other shape; similarly, the mind, the
inner sense, which is luminous, goes out through the eye, etc., and takes on
the form of the object. In the perception of a pitcher, for example, the mental
mode and the pitcher occupy the same space. When one perceives a pitcher
and says, “this is a pitcher,” the mental mode or vṛtti having the form of the
pitcher, the consciousness limited by the pitcher and consciousness limited by
that mental mode become non-different. This is how the pitcher is perceived.
One consciousness becomes threefold depending upon the limiting condition. The object-consciousness is the consciousness limited by the object
(vi ṣaya), e.g., a pitcher. Pram āṇa consciousness is the consciousness limited by
the mental modifcation. The subject- consciousness (pram āt ṛ) is the consciousness limited by the inner sense. In perception, an identity between these three
is accomplished. Accordingly, pure consciousness, from an empirical point of
view, becomes threefold: The object-consciousness, the means-of-cognition
consciousness, and the cognizer-consciousness. From the perspective of
pure consciousness, these divisions are only apparent and not real; the plurality of objects is only apparently independent of the subject, but not truly
independent.
It is worth noting that the Advaitins do not regard “being caused by sense
organs” (as opposed to Nyāya) a defning property of perception. Perceptuality, as applied to a cognition, is made possible by a cognition on account of the
identity of consciousness limited by the pram āṇas and the consciousness limited
by the object.
The Advaita theory of identity is a corollary of its metaphysics: Only brahman or pure consciousness is real; it is all pervading, undifferentiated consciousness. Pure consciousness is also pure existence or being, and assertions
made about the latter are equally applicable to the former. Just as a claypitcher does not have any independent existence apart from the clay; similarly, the objects do not have any independent existence apart from the pure
consciousness, their source. In other words, these objects, though empirically
real, are not real in themselves. The same can be asserted about the pure
consciousness in a cognitive relation, which involves such elements as subject,
object, and their relation. These elements are real insofar as they refer to pure
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consciousness but are not real in themselves. The Advaitins reiterate that as
identical with pure consciousness, these three terms of a cognitive relation
refer to the same reality.
Perception is of two kinds: Savikalpaka (determinate) and nirvikalpaka (indeterminate).52 The former apprehends relatedness of a substantive and its
qualifying attribute. This occurs in the cognition “I know the pitcher.” The
latter is that knowledge which does not apprehend such relatedness, as in the
case of such identity statements, “this is that Devadatta” or “thou art that” or
“you are that.”
It is worth noting that the identity statement “thou art that” is not a tautology and cannot be expressed as x = x.53 In logic, most contemporary philosophers hold a tautology is a sentence that is true solely by virtue of its formal
structure. Some people reserve the word “tautology” simply for logical truths,
or, possibly, for the subset of logical truths of propositional logic. Others use
the word in a broader sense, such that not only logical truths but also analytic propositions, i.e., the propositions which are reducible to logical truths,
defnitionally would be considered tautologies. One must be very careful to
understand the sense in which “thou art that” is an identity statement; it is
not a tautology because what is meant by the ātman for the individual is different from what is meant by the brahman for the individual. “Thou art that”
is very similar to such statements as “this is that Devadatta.” When I perceive
Devadatta for the second time and report to my friend “this is that Devadatta”
I saw yesterday, I do not mean to suggest that the two places and the times
are identical. When I saw Devadatta yesterday he was in a school, and today
I see him in the King of Prussia Mall. He was happy yesterday, and he is in
pain today. The identity is the identity of “person” devoid of all accidental
qualifcations. The same characterizes “thou art that,” where the individual
self as pure consciousness is identical with the brahman, the pure consciousness.
To sum up, the immediacy of knowledge does not depend on its arising
from the senses, but rather on the object that is presented. The immediacy
of the object presented to consciousness makes possible for knowledge to be
perceptual. Although the phenomenal world rests on a distinction between
cognition and content, no such distinction exists in the immediate consciousness of the brahman. Pure consciousness accordingly is the criterion of the
perceptibility of objects. Since the cognizer-consciousness and the objectconsciousness, e.g., a pitcher, share the same consciousness, in the perception
of a pitcher, the pitcher becomes “immediate.” Perception thus is of utmost
importance, because the knowledge obtained is immediate, which is different
from the non-perceptual knowledge obtained by inference, comparison, and
postulation.
Anum āna (Inference)
The next pram āṇa is inference (anum āna), which is the special cause of an inferential cognition or anumiti, literally, “the consequent knowledge” (from anu =
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after, and miti = knowledge). Here the Advaitins draw our attention to the fact
that an inferential cognition is caused by the knowledge of an invariable concomitance purely as the knowledge of the invariable concomitance. Ved ānta
Paribh āṣā defnes anumiti as the cognition that is produced by the knowledge of
vyāpti qu ā the knowledge of vyāpti (vyāpti being the invariable relation between
what is inferred and the reason). The “qu ā …” is inserted to avoid the defnition being too wide by applying to the unintended case of mental, secondary,
reception of the knowledge of vyāpti. Vyāpti is the relation of having the same
locus belonging to the sādhya in all the loci of hetu.54 I will illustrate this point
with the help of an example typical of Indian philosophers, including Advaita.
Whatever is smoky is fery, e.g., a kitchen,
The hill is smoky,
Therefore, the hill is fery.
[There are three terms: Hetu (the middle term, smoky), sādhya (the major term,
kitchen), and pak ṣa (the minor term, hill).]55
Here the vyāpti is “wherever there is smoke, there is fre,” i.e., wherever
there is hetu, there is sādhya. The sādhya, in other words, is present in all those
places where the hetu is present. Vyāpti, in other words, is “having the same
locus” between a sādhya which is present in all the loci of the hetu. The Ved ānta
Paribh āṣā adds that vyāpti between the fre and the smoke exists when the fre
co-exists in all the cases of the smoke and is never known not to accompany
the smoke. This universal relation must have been cognized on a previous
occasion and must be cognized, or better yet re-cognized, in this instance
(the hill) for inferential knowledge to occur. Cognition of a universal relation,
though necessary, is not a suffcient condition of the inferential knowledge.
However, the cognition as well as the re-cognition of a universal relation together constitute the necessary as well as suffcient conditions.
According to the Naiyāyikas, we frst see smoke on the hill, then remember
that wherever there is smoke, there is fre as in our kitchen; consequently,
there is smoke on the hill, which is a mark of fre, and we conclude that there
must be fre on the hill.
We shall see where the Advaitin account differs from the Nyāya account.
For the Naiyāyikas, the parāmarśa, i.e., the cognition of the hetu for the third
time, is the instrumental cause of inferential knowledge.56 The Advaita rejects
this theory and refuses to consider parāmarśa in any sense to be the cause of
an inferential cognition. The cognition of the invariable concomitance is an
instrument only with respect to the knowledge of fre, and not with respect to
the knowledge of the hill. Hence, the knowledge “this hill has fre” could not
have been inferred regarding the hill. The knowledge in the case of the hill is
an instance of perception.
The Advaitins, like the Naiyāyikas, classify inference into inference for
one-self (svārtha) and for another (parārtha). Whereas the Naiyāyikas recognize
a valid inference for another to have fve members,57 the Advaita Vedānta
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recognizes only three members. The three members that suffce are the proposition to be established (known as pratijñ ā), the reason (hetu), and the example
(i.e., ud āhara ṇa). In a concrete case, it is enough to argue that the hill has fre,
because of smoke, as in the kitchen.
The Advaita logicians then proceed to prove one of their central theses,
i.e., the empirical reality of the world, by an appropriate inference. The inference58 runs as follows:
Everything other than the brahman is false
Because it is other than the brahman
Whatever is other than the brahman is false, e.g., the shell-silver.
An appropriate defnition of falsity would be: “something being the counterpositive of the absolute non-existence in whatever is supposed to be the substratum.” Another way of proving the falsity of whatever consists of parts is
this: “A cloth is a counter-positive of the absolute nonexistence abiding in
the threads, because it is a cloth, as is the case with any other cloth.” The
falsity of all things is the property of being the counter-positive of absence
in all things appearing as its locus. The Advaitin obviously refuses to accept
the Nyāya thesis that the whole resides in its parts in the relation of samavāya
(inherence).59
Upam āna (Comparison)
Knowledge obtained from comparison (upam āna) is derived from the judgments of similarity, i.e., a remembered object is like a perceived one. Judgments
based on comparison are of the kind “Y is like X,” where X is immediately
perceived, and Y is an object perceived on a previous occasion which becomes
the content of consciousness in the form of memory.60 The Advaitins consider
a typical instance of comparison given by Indian philosophers. A person has
a gau (domestic cow), knows what it looks like, and has the capacity to apply
its features to other cows. Upon running into a gavaya (a wild cow) in a forest
he says, “this wild cow resembles my domestic cow.” Then, he concludes, “my
cow resembles this wild cow.” This knowledge of the similarity of my domestic
cow with the wild cow seen in the forest is “upamiti.” Its proximate cause is
upam āna, the knowledge of the likeness with a cow which exists in a wild cow.
The Advaitins emphasize that this knowledge is neither perception nor
memory. It is not perception, because of the two cows under consideration
only one is perceived; it is not memory, because my domestic cow, which was
perceived in the past, is now recollected, and not its similarity to the wild cow
that is now being perceived in the forest. So, a person gains a new or better
knowledge not about the wild cow, but about my domestic cow. The similarity
attaches to the domestic cow; it is similarity with a wild cow. In other words,
this similarity is not perceived, because when one knows this similarity, there
is no sense contact with the domestic cow. Nor is this knowledge based on an
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inference, because the similarity of a cow with a wild cow cannot be the mark
or the hetu of the likeness of the wild cow in a cow. To put it differently, inference requires a universal premise; no such premise is needed in the knowledge
by similarity. Thus, comparison, argue the Advaitins, deserves the status of a
separate pram āṇa.
Śabda (Verbal Testimony)
For the Advaitins, verbal testimony “is a means of valid knowledge in which
the relation among the meanings of the words that is the object of its intention
is not contradicted by another pram āṇa.”61 They further argue that a sentence
is the unit of a verbal testimony. In other words, a sentence signifes more than
the constituent words that compose it. To grasp the signifcance of a sentence,
one must know not only the meanings of the constituent words but also the
relation among the meanings of the words conjoined syntactically. The apprehension of this relation is the verbal cognition, and, if it is not contradicted,
it is valid.
Four causes produce the cognition of a sentence: Expectancy (āk ānk ṣā), appropriateness or competency ( yog yāta), contiguity (āsatti), and the knowledge
of intention (t ātparya).62
Expectancy is the capacity of the meanings of the words to become objects
of enquiry about each other.63 Hearing about action gives rise to the expectation about something connected with the action, the agent, or the instrument
of action. For example, the sentence “get the umbrella” gives rise to a cognition. However, if the words “umbrella” and “get” are uttered separately, there
would be no cognition. If only the word “umbrella” is uttered, the question
would arise what to do with the umbrella? If only “get” is uttered, the question
would arise, “get what”? In other words, for a cognition to arise, both “umbrella” and “get” are required.
Competency or appropriateness64 is the non-contradiction of the intended
relation desired to be set up in a combination of ideas. A sentence like “sprinkle fre on the grass to moisten it” lacks appropriateness, as fre can neither be
sprinkled nor can it moisten anything.
By “contiguity” is meant that the meanings of the words are to be presented
without interval.65 Thus, the words must be uttered without a long temporal
interval between them. “The door” requires to be preceded without a long
interval by the verb “close” to close the door.
Words, argues the Advaitin, have primary as well as secondary meanings.66 Primary meaning is something that is directly meant by a word. A
word in its primary meaning signifes a universal and not the particular in
which it inheres. For example, the word “cow” stands for “cowness.” A universal, in other words, is not an entity that stands over and above the individuals; rather, it refers to the essential characteristics that are common to
all members of that class. Thus, whereas the universals or class characteristics constitute the primary meaning of the words, the individuals constitute
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their secondary meanings. In other words, though the word “cow” primarily
means “cowness,” it may by implication signify those individual cows as possessing universal cowness. To suppose that the word has the power to designate infnite number of individual cows would be to violate the principle of
economy. Individual cows are meant by a secondary power of designation or
implication (lak ṣa ṇa).67
A secondary meaning is something that is implied by a word. If the primary meanings of the words of a sentence do not adequately explain the
import, then one looks for the implied meanings. Lak ṣa ṇa or secondary
designation is of two kinds: Bare implication and a secondary designation that depends upon another lak ṣa ṇa, i.e., implication by the implied.
Bare implication functions when the secondary meaning itself is related
to the primary meaning. For example, this occurs in “the village on the
Ganges,” which secondarily means “the village on the bank of the river.”
The second kind of implication occurs when there is no direct relation to
express the primary meaning. For example, the primary meaning of the
word “dvireph ā,” i.e., “having two rephas” is “having two r’s,” but secondarily it means a “bee.” A similar secondary designation occurs when one
says, “a human like a lion,” where not lion but lion’s courage and strength
characterize the human concerned.
Secondary meanings are of three kinds68: In the frst, jahallak ṣa ṇa, the primary meaning is dropped in favor of a secondary meaning. For example,
when after learning that a person is about to dine with his enemy, you tell him
“go and take poison.” The intention here is not to ask the person to take poison but to make the point that dining with an enemy is “like taking poison.”
In the second, the primary meaning is there but the secondary meaning
comes into play. In the sentence “white cloth,” “white” includes “the property
of whiteness” and by implication denotes the substance that the white color
characterizes. Thus, there is a cognition not only of the expressed sense but
also of the implied sense. This is “ajahatlak ṣa ṇa.”
In the third, a part of the original primary meaning is dropped, but another part is retained. When seeing a person “Devadatta,” one says, “this
is that Devadatta,” “this” and “that” are taken to be the purport, and the
meanings in terms of spatio-temporal locations are dropped. Only the identity between the “this” and the “that” Devadatta is asserted leaving aside the
differences. This is “ jahatajahatlak ṣa ṇa.”
Very often, the principle of seeking a secondary meaning is employed to
harmonize scriptural statements with one’s own philosophical position. For
example, in construing the meaning of the sentence “you are that” or “thou
art that,” the primary meanings of “you” or “thou” as “individual consciousness,” and “that” as the “pure consciousness” are set aside, and they
are used in their secondary meanings: The consciousness that underlies pure
consciousness is the same consciousness that underlies the individual consciousness, thereby declaring that the text affrms the identity between the
individual and the non-dual pure consciousness.
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Tātparya or intention is the capacity to produce cognition of a specifc
thing.69 The question becomes important when there is doubt as to whether
a sentence means this or something else. In such cases, i.e., when a word has
more than one meaning, the context helps us to determine the intention of
the speaker. For example, what does “saindhavam-anaya” mean? Does it mean
“bring a horse” or “bring some salt”? Generally, context helps us to decide. In
the case of the Vedic sentences, reasoning aided by the principles of interpretation is required. In all identity texts, the content is the capacity of a sentence
to convey a meaning, not simply the senses of the words. If this is not accepted,
there would be the danger that the word senses might be construed as the
sense of the sentence-generated cognition, and if that happens, unintended
relations may become the content of such a cognition.
Arth āpatti (Presumption or Postulation)
The Advaita Vedā nta recognizes a unique mode of argument as a pram āṇa
called “postulation.” The argument is somewhat like what is known as the
“transcendental argument” in Western philosophy. The knowledge obtained
from postulation (arth āpatti) involves assuming or postulating a fact to make
another fact intelligible. Supposing there is a fact p. If you say p is possible
only if q, then you establish the validity of q. To take an example, let p be
“Devadatta is growing fat even when he does not eat during the day.” One
must assume that, barring physiological problems, he eats at night, because
there is no way of reconciling fasting and the gaining of weight. Therefore,
Devadatta eats at night. In short, in arth āpatti, one assumes a fact without
which a thing cannot be explained. The knowledge of the thing to be explained is the instrument and the knowledge of the explanatory fact is the
result.70
There are two kinds of presumption: Postulation from what is seen
(dṛṣṭārth āpatti) and postulation from what is heard or known by testimony
(śrut ārth āpatti). In the frst, one supposes a fact to explain a perceived fact. For
example, in a shell-silver illusion, when the judgment “this is not silver but
a shell” negates the initial judgment “this is silver,” we assume that the seen
silver must be illusory.
The second involves the postulation of an implied meaning of a sentence
either heard or read, when the direct meaning is incomplete. For example,
“one who knows ātman overcomes all suffering.” This can be true only if suffering destroyed by knowledge has the status of falsity. Only falsity is negated
by another knowledge. In other words, the validity of this judgment is possible
only if we assume that grief is false.
The second is of two kinds: Abhidh āna (the supposition of a verbal expression) and abhihita (supposition of a thing meant). In abhidh āna, on hearing the
part of a sentence, there is the supposition of a verbal expression, for example,
when the master of the house simply says “dvāram,” i.e., the door, the servant
has to supply “close.” The abhihita occurs when what is heard has no consistent
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meaning, so that the hearer supposes some other thing, e.g., upon hearing,
“one who desires heaven should perform jyoti ṣṭoma sacrifce,” it is assumed that
sacrifce must give rise to some unseen result.71
Anupalabdhi (Non-Apprehension)
Non-perception is another pram āṇa that the Advaita recognizes; it is the specifc way we perceive absences. It yields knowledge of an absence, where an
object would be immediately perceived if it were there. Judgments based on
anupalabdhi are of the sort “there is no X in the room,” where X is an object
which would have been perceived if it were there.72 To put it differently, if a
pitcher were on my desk, I would have seen it in a well-lit room. The resulting
knowledge of the nonexistence is perceptual; nevertheless, its instrumental
cause, viz., non-apprehension, is a distinct means of knowing.
The knowledge derived from anupalabdhi has the following features: Such a
knowledge has for its object something non-existent, immediate, and it cannot
be produced by any other pram āṇa. Every instance of non-perception, however, does not prove its non-existence. A person does not see a chair in a dark
room, which by no means proves that the chair is not there. Hence, nonperception occurs under appropriate conditions.
It is important to remember that the six pram āṇas of the Advaitins have limited applicability. By demonstrating the insuffciency and the relative nature
of the six pram āṇas, the Advaitins pave the way for their transcendence to the
brahman, the highest knowledge, the truth.
Two Forms of Knowledge and the Theory
of Intrinsic Validity
There are two forms of knowledge: The higher knowledge ( parāvidyā) and the
lower knowledge (aparāvidyā). The frst is the knowledge of the absolute; it is
sui generis. It is attained all at once, immediately, intuitively. The second is the
knowledge of the empirical world of names and forms, where the pram āṇas
(means of true cognition) are operative. All pram āṇas hold sway as “ultimate”
until the brahman is realized, because when the brahman is realized nothing remains to be known. Each of the six pram āṇas has its own sphere of operation.
They do not contradict each other. They are “true” only in the phenomenal
world, but none of the pram āṇas are ultimately “true.” The Advaitin doctrine
of the intrinsic validity of knowledge supports and further explains what the
Advaitins mean by this equivocation.
The Advaitins argue that:
1
2
the function of knowledge is to manifest the object as it is;
within dream, a cognition may lead to successful practice about the
dream object; and
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3
knowledge is true so long it is not contradicted by a subsequent experience. In the strict sense, only uncontradicted experience is ultimately
true; however, the Advaita at the same time holds that no empirical
knowledge satisfes both. Only the knowledge of brahman does. Any empirical cognition is in principle falsifable, but so long it is not falsifed, it
is taken to be true by the cognizer. Thus, it is not the truth, rather the falsity
that happens to a cognition.
The last sentence raises the following questions: Is the truth of a cognition
apprehended intrinsically or extrinsically? Is the falsity of a cognition apprehended intrinsically or extrinsically? Advaita subscribes to the theory of
extrinsic (parataḥ) invalidity, but to the theory of intrinsic validity (svataḥ), because the validity arises from the very conditions that produce it. The Advaita
Vedānta theory of the intrinsic validity consists of the following theses:
1
2
3
every cognition, as it were, is eo ipso, taken by the cognizer to be true independently of any test;
there is indeed no criterion of truth; and
there is a criterion of falsity.
Before proceeding further, let us pause briefy, and discuss what is meant by
the words “svataḥ (intrinsic)” and “parataḥ (extrinsic).” Let C1 be the cognition
under consideration, and for my limited purposes here, my question may be
reformulated as follows: Is it the case that the same cognition, which apprehends C1, also apprehends the truth or falsity of C1? If cognition C2 apprehends C1, if C2 also apprehends the truth or falsity of C1, then the truth of
C1 will be intrinsic. If, however, C2 apprehends C1 without at the same time
apprehending it as true or false, and if a later cognition determines the truth
or falsity of C1, then the truth or falsity will be extrinsic. Thus, there are four
combinations of possible answers, and these four combinations represent the
position adopted by the Indian thinkers.
For the Naiyāyikas, both truth and falsity are extrinsic. For them, knowing
is a temporal act directed toward an object. It is a property of the self and is
expressed in such judgments as “this is a desk.” Here, the desk is the object of
knowledge, and a cognition reveals only the object. It does not reveal either the
cognizer or the cognition itself. This primary cognition (vyavasāya), they argue,
is revealed by a second introspective awareness of the form “I know the desk,”
or “I have the knowledge of the desk.” The second cognition or the cognition of
the primary cognition is “anuvyavasāya.” Whereas the object of the primary cognition is the desk, the direct object of the second cognition is the primary cognition. To put it differently, when C2, apprehends C1 in a refective introspection,
C1 is not apprehended either as true or as false. One needs a subsequent verifcatory confrming evidence for determining its truth or disconfrming evidence
for determining it as false. So, both truth and falsity are extrinsic.
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The Advaitin conception in this regard is quite different from the Naiyāyika
conception. For the Advaitins, a cognition is an event in time. One does not
and cannot determine the truth of a cognition by applying any criteria, because such an application itself would be the case of a cognition whose truths
itself would have to be determined by another cognition, and this process
will go on ad infinitum. So, the Advaitins defend another combination of the
possibilities; the truth is intrinsic to a cognition, but the falsity is extrinsic,
i.e., a cognition is apprehended immediately as true prior to the subsequent
confrmation or disconfrmation; however, later experience might prove it to
be false.
The Advaitin argue that when I apprehend an object, the object undoubtedly is revealed; however, the object is not the only thing that is revealed. It is
accompanied by an apprehension of apprehension. When I say this is a desk, I
not only know the desk but also know that I know this is a desk. The two apprehensions occur simultaneously. “This is a desk” is an instance of perception;
however, the perception itself is apprehended by the witness-consciousness.
The above makes it obvious that the real questions are not “what is truth”
or “what is falsity”? The real question is: “when is a cognition apprehended to
be a true or false?” The Naiyāyika account provides an interesting possibility.
When by introspection I come to apprehend a cognition that has just occurred
in me, for example, when I perceive a snake, I am not perceiving it as either
true or false. I am refectively perceiving that I have a perceptual cognition.
Or, take the Advaitin counterclaim, to know that I have a cognition, is eo ipso
to know that I have a true cognition. This determination of truth continues
until it is sublated by a contradictory disconfrming evidence, so that on the
Advaitin theory, the truth is intrinsic, whereas the falsity is extrinsic. The concern, then, is not with the truth as such, but with the truth determination. The
same characterizes falsity. Western epistemologists, I suspect, will reject such
questions as being psychological in nature, and of no philosophical import.
The above makes it clear that in the Indian theories of truth, a theory of falsity plays an important role. In Advaita Vedānta, the theory of falsity is central
to their metaphysical and epistemological projects so much so that they defne
falsity frst, and then proceed to defne the truth. Let us see how this works,
and why such a move is necessary for the Advaitins.
The Advaitins do not accept what Kant calls the nominal meaning of
truth, viz., that a true cognition knows its object precisely as it is, not because
some true cognitions are true without satisfying it, but because what they call
“false” cognitions also satisfy it. Let me explain it with the help of an example
used to explain an illusory cognition. In a snake-rope illusory cognition, I see
a rope as a snake. On the Advaita view the object which this cognition apprehends is not the rope but a snake; so, the property of being a snake which the
cognition ascribes to its object truly belongs to it. If the opponent argues that
the object of this cognition is really a rope, the Advaitin will question the opponent’s defnition of “being an object.” If the object is that which a cognition
manifests or shows, then it is the snake which is the object, and not what is not
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manifested in that cognition. If a rope can be the object of that cognition, even
when it is not manifested, then anything can be the object of any cognition.
The opponent may say in response that the object of this cognition is simply “this”; the Advaitin would agree and argue that the cognition manifests
“this” as a snake, and one really does see a snake. The subsequent cognition,
the so-called correction, shows that this is really a rope and not a snake. It
means that the object of the new cognition is a rope; it does not prove that in
the earlier cognition the defning truth was not present. Thus, the Advaitins
conclude that the agreement with the nature of the object cannot serve as a
defnition of the truth.
It may be asked: Is the truth the ability to generate successful practical
response? The Advaitins answer this question in the negative and argue that
even a cognition that is false in the ordinary sense may lead to successful
practice. Let me give an illustrative example: In a dream one feels thirsty, sees
the water at a distance, walks up to the water, drinks it, which quenches his
thirst. Upon waking up from the sleep, he realizes that it was a dream, and
his cognition of water false. The Advaitins argue that though his cognition
of water within his dream led to the quenching of his thirst in the context of
the dream, and gave rise to a successful activity, his cognition of water was
false. So, the defnition of truth as the ability to generate successful practical
response cannot be accepted.
The Advaitins in this regard differ not only from the Naiyāyikas but also
from the Prabhā kara M īmāṃsakas. Prabhā kara M īmāṃsakas, like the Advaitins, subscribe to the theory of the intrinsic validity of knowledge. The
M īmāṃsakas, however, prove the intrinsic validity of knowledge by showing
that there are no false cognitions (akhyāti), that every knowledge reveals its
own object, and that the so-called erroneous cognition is really a case of nondistinction between two different cognitions: Perception (“this”) and recollection (“snake”). Each one of these by itself is true, but owing to the nondistinction between them, one mistakes the memory for a perception, and
identifes the object of the memory with the object of perception.
The Advaitin does not accept akhyāti strategy; because he believes that the
perception of a snake is really a perception not a memory, and what we perceive is not a rope mistaken for a snake, but a snake produced there by the
perceiver’s ignorance having the property “snakeness.” The Advaitins therefore follow another strategy. They argue that every cognition manifests its
own object and not the object of another cognition. From this it follows that
every cognition arises with its own claim to truth. But the claim to truth is not
an additional property of a cognition; it is intrinsic to it. To know is to have a
true cognition, and no additional criterion of truth is required. However, on
the Advaita view, every empirical cognition may, at some time or other, be
contradicted. Such contradictions show that the claim of the frst cognition to
be true cannot be sustained and the cognition is now known to be false. The
consequence is that falsity has a criterion, but truth does not. Some Advaitins
use this to arrive at a defnition of truth—“a cognition is true as long as it is
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not known to be false.” This feature is constitutive of knowledge claims, the
claim to truth is not an additional claim over and above the claim to know.
But this claim is contradicted; it is taken back and one takes the earlier cognition to be false. On the Advaita view then the truth is intrinsic to knowledge;
falsity, however, is extrinsic.
There are genuine false cognitions in which one thing appears to be what
it is not. The object of the erroneous cognition, an object that is contradicted,
is indescribable either as sat or asat. Only the brahman experience is uncontradicted. Thus, the lack of uncontradictedness while securing the validity of the
pram āṇas leads to the thesis that none of the knowledge gained by the pram āṇas
is ultimately true. All knowledge gained through pram āṇas may be contradicted by an insight, an “intuitive” experience, that is qualitatively superior,
the highest knowledge ( parā vidyā), which dispels ignorance.
The claim—knowledge gained through the pram āṇas may be contradicted
by an intuitive insight—might seem strange to the readers. Therefore, before
concluding this section, let me make a few remarks about the concept of “intuition” vis-à-vis pram āṇas in Advaita Vedānta.
Intuition
To capture the concept of “intuition” in Advaita Vedānta, one will have to
contend not with one but with four senses of this concept. To begin with,
the Sanskrit “aparok ṣajñ āna” is usually translated as “intuition”; it stands for a
knowledge, which is immediate, i.e., a knowledge not mediated by conceptual
thinking, as well as for a “knowledge by identity” in which the familiar distinction between the subject and the object is overcome.
1
We have already seen in the discussion of perception (pratyak ṣa) that it
is the knowledge, within the reach of everyone, i.e., within the bounds
of ordinary experience, which gives some inkling of what an intuitive
knowledge by identity must look like. The perceived thing stands before
me when I perceive it; I am in touch with it as it were; in Kant’s language,
it is “given” to me, and I do not go through a conceptual process of thinking to reach it, though it is not unmediated. A mental process occurs,
and the perceptual cognition is the result of that process (Leistung or an
“accomplishment” in Husserl’s language). Ved ānta Paribh āṣā describes this
process as the “going out” of the inner sense, assuming the form of the
object, and achieving an identifcation with the object. In the cognitive
process pertaining to the perception of an external object, the object is
cognized via its association with the subject-consciousness. A modifcation of the inner sense (antaḥkara ṇavṛtti) effects such an association. The
result is a cognition founded upon an identification, but not on an identity
brought by a “going out” and assuming the form of the object. So, in the
strict sense, the cognition is not immediate, though it seems immediate.
Instrumentality of the inner sense is required to establish its connection
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2
3
with the object. Hence, its intuitional character is a pretense. Concepts
are not involved; the language has no role to play, the non-conceptuality
is not yet immediacy.
Perception’s ability to result in a cognitive accomplishment is because
the v ṛtti or mental modifcation itself is known immediately without the
intervention of another process. An object, say, a pitcher, is perceived
through the v ṛtti (mental mode), but the v ṛtti itself is known without the
mediation of another such v ṛtti if we are to avoid infnite regress. This
indeed is the case. The v ṛtti is immediately present to pure consciousness
as it occurs. Here there is immediacy, no mediacy (neither by another
v ṛtti nor by any kind of conceptual thinking), no process is involved. But
it is not a knowledge by identity; the pure consciousness and v ṛtti are not
one nor can they taken to be one. The Advaitins call it “sāk ṣī-pratyak ṣa”
or “witness-perception,” i.e., the immediate perception of mental modifcation.73 The witness-consciousness does nothing; it manifests the
other. In this case, it manifests non-actionally (i.e., by doing nothing)
whatever other comes before it. But this other is not an external object
(which the witness-consciousness cannot without mediation manifest)
but an other which is inner or mental. The manifestation of the v ṛtti
is not an accomplishment, for its very nature a present to witness-consciousness. This cognition, if we call it “intuition,” is immediate, but
it is not the result of a process by which the otherness is overcome; the
otherness remains.
The Advaita Vedānta entertains the possibility of working toward another experience which may be called “intuition.” In this case, one begins
with “hearing” (śrava ṇa) the texts of the Upaniṣads (taught by a qualifed
instructor), then one refects (manana) on the truths learnt, and, fnally,
contemplates (nididhyāsana) on them. This contemplation culminates in an
intuitive realization of those truths which amount to intuitively knowing
who he is, what is the nature of his self, and experiencing the identity
of the ātman and the brahman. With this, the fnal veil of ignorance is removed, and the self, eternally self-luminous, shines in its own light.
The question may be asked: Is this intuition, i.e., the knowledge of the
identity of the self and the brahman mediated by a mental mode? In fact,
the Advaitins speak of it as the fnal mental modifcation. It is mediated
by an impartite vṛtti (akha ṇd āk āravṛtti);74 so, it is not immediate and falls
short of being an intuition in the strictest sense. But the question remains:
Is the culminating stage, in which the self shines by its own light, an intuition? Again, it is not my knowledge, not knowledge by the subject who has
reached this point. Who, then, is intuiting? And, what does one intuit?
The pure self is not an object of knowledge. It is eternally self-luminous,
and is so now, only the veil of ignorance is lifted.
Again, strictly speaking, it is not an intuition by some knower. In other
words, it is not as if a knower intuitively knows something other than
itself.
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4
Let us leave aside the process of progressing toward a goal for the time
being, it is worth remembering that consciousness is ever self-luminous
(svaya ṃprak āśa). It apprehends itself by identity, without being an object of
any cognition. We may at best call this aspect of consciousness an intuition of its own nature, immediately and as identical with itself. Consciousness precisely is this intuition of itself. This alone, of all the four cases,
is intuition in the strongest sense: Intuition always by itself, of itself and
always.
I hope the above discussion provides my readers some insights into the role of
intuition vis-à-vis pram āṇas, which belong to the domain of avidyā. The pram āṇas
are not self-luminous, but they leave us at the door of the self-luminous consciousness, so to speak. They are important as they help us understand as well
as transcend empiricality and lead us to an immediate understanding of the
self by destroying avidyā, but in the process of destroying avidyā, they destroy
themselves. Only the self-luminous consciousness remains, which was always
there.
To sum up, logic and intuitive experience are inseparably intertwined; they
are two aspects of the same cognitive process. The pram āṇas as a system of
logic, whose fnal basis is “consciousness,” is the “witness” and the “ judge” of
all cognitive claims. The pram āṇas lead to an intuitive experience, where they
have completely fulflled their role and cease to be. Reason, in other words, is
transcended by an intuitive experience, which is the goal of all rational thinking. Thus, the standard Western dichotomy between reason and intuition collapses and both (reason and intuition) together form an integrated process of
acquisition, validation, and justifcation of knowledge.
Concluding Ref lections
Before concluding this section on Advaita, I would make a few remarks about
the relation between knowledge and ignorance in Advaita Vedānta. The two,
knowledge and ignorance (as the Upaniṣads repeatedly assert), are opposed to
each other.75 Śa ṃ kara, following the Upaniṣads, also reiterates that the two
are opposed to each other as light and darkness. Knowledge removes ignorance. Knowledge is intrinsically desirable; ignorance and its consequences
are what we in fact desire. Though the opposition between knowledge and
ignorance, certifed by ordinary experience, is a well-established doctrine of
Vedānta philosophy (also Buddhism), the Upaniṣads sometime surprise us by
bringing them together in a manner that goes against the verdict of experience and seems counter-intuitive. For example, the Īśā text states, “Those who
worship avidyā enter into darkness and those who are engaged in vidyā enter
into still greater darkness … Those who know both vidyā and avidyā together
overcome death by avidyā and reach immortality by vidyā.”76 Clearly this
text emphasizes the necessity of knowing both vidyā and avidyā for attaining
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immortality through knowledge. What, then, does this text signify? These
verses reinforce the dichotomy between work and knowledge and assert that
those who pursue one to the exclusion of the other remain ignorant. Śa ṃ kara
in his interpretation of the above states that “avidyā” in this context means action, i.e., the performance of the Vedic rituals and “vidyā” signifes knowledge
and thought of the deities.77 The performance of rites and meditation on the
deities helps one attain immortality, which is not mok ṣa or becoming identical
with the brahman. Clearly these meanings are one-sided, so the question arises:
Is there any other way of reconciling the text with the commonly acceptable
meanings of the words?
One way is to recall Plato’s thesis in the Republic: when the prisoner comes
out of the cave and sees the light, his eyes are blinded and dazzled. It is imperative that he sees both the original and the copies, so that he may begin to
see the truth. In other words, knowledge of the one must be combined with
the knowledge of the many. Performing the ritualistic actions with the vision
shrouded by ignorance may lead one to pass from this world to the higher
worlds, which is not mok ṣa. Likewise, mere knowledge of the one to the utter
exclusion of the experience of the world is not yet the highest knowledge. One
must know both ignorance as ignorance and knowledge as knowledge. Is the
Īśā saying something like Plato? I leave this question for the readers to pursue.
It is possible to suggest that there are different levels of avidyā, and that to
attain vidyā, one must go through the lower levels to reach the highest. In that
case, one may want to maintain that avidyā is the pathway to mok ṣa or vidyā,
even if the path lies within the domain of avidyā. Thus, the initial opposition
between vidyā and avidyā is softened, because all entry into knowledge must be
through ignorance. But, at the same time, there is a “leap,” a “ jump” from the
one domain to the other, a total transcendence, a discontinuity.
III Viśiṣtādvaita
After Śa ṃ kara, the name that is most famous among philosophers of the
Vedānta school is that of R āmānuja. Born 200 years after Śa ṃ kara, R āmānuja
takes issue with Śa ṃ kara’s conceptions of the brahman, the status of the world,
avidyā, and argues that both the brahman and the world rooted in the brahman are real, and in knowing the brahman we move from the partial to the
complete. Using the principles of dharmabh ūtajñ āna or attributive consciousness, apṛthaksiddhi or inseparability, and sām ān ādhikar ṇya or the principle of
coordination, R āmānuja establishes his own version of non-dualism called
“Viśiṣt ādvaita” or “qualifed non-dualism.”
R āmānuja remains one of the most infuential interpreters of a theistic variety of Vedānta. As a young man, he stayed in the company of such poet saints
as Yamunā, Mahāpurāṇā s, and Goṣṭhipū r ṇa who exercised a profound infuence on him. These poet saints of South India were known as “Ālvārs.” The
term “ālvar” etymologically means “one who has attained a mystic intuitive
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knowledge of God.” These poet saints upheld a theistic interpretation of the
Upaniṣads, the interpretation that shaped R āmānuja’s philosophical outlook.
R āmānuja worshipped the god Viṣṇu and had many Viṣṇu temples and ma ṭhas
built. The catholic spirit of his religion made it possible for him to acquire
many devoted scholars, who carried on his religion and philosophy for centuries to come. R āmānuja died in 1137.
R āmānuja’s philosophy is a creative and constructive effort to systematize the teachings of the Upaniṣads, the G īt ā, and the Brahmas ūtras. One of
R āmānuja’s primary contributions lies in reconciling the extremes of monism and theism, while providing a formidable challenge to Śa ṃ kara’s Advaita
Vedānta. If for Śa ṃ kara reality or the brahman is pure consciousness, pure
existence, and pure bliss, on which individual consciousness (“I” and “mine”),
the world, etc., are superimposed due to ignorance, R āmānuja takes brahman
to be the God of religion, an all-inclusive being. R āmānuja, like Śa ṃ kara,
believes that brahman is the only reality. But whereas Śa ṃ kara’s non-dualism
takes the world and the God to be appearances, R āmānuja’s non-dualism
takes them to be real, and in so believing satisfes the religious yearning of
fnite individuals for a supreme person.
Fundamental Postulates
1 There is no distinction between the nirgu ṇa and the sagu ṇa brahman
or Īśvara (God). The brahman is the same as the god of theism.
2 Īśvara or brahman is existence, consciousness, bliss, knowledge, and
truth.
3 The world rooted in the brahman is as real as the brahman.
4 Both matter and selves are eternal.
5 The brahman is identity-in-difference.
6 The brahman contains parts. The brahman is an organic unity of cit
(conscious) and acit (unconscious).
7 Souls and matter, though real, are dependent on the brahman.
8 Ignorance is the root cause of our bondage.
9 Freedom from ignorance is possible through devotion.
10 Mok ṣa is sought through work and knowledge.
11 Constant meditation on God as the dearest object of love is
required.
12 Mok ṣa is attained by God’s mercy.
R āmānuja begins by asking the basic Upaniṣadic question: “what is that by
knowing which everything else is known?”78 The answer is: The “brahman.”
The brahman is knowable; he is realizable. Let us see what R āmānuja has to say
about this important concept.
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Brahman
At the outset of his philosophy, R āmānuja informs us that all knowledge necessarily involves discrimination and differentiation; it is impossible to know an
object in its undifferentiated form.79 Knowledge is the affrmation of reality
and every negation presupposes affrmation. The knowable is known as characterized in some form or the other by some specifc attributes.
R āmānuja refuses to divorce the manifold from the one; his unity contains
within itself the diversity. Since knowledge always involves distinctions, both
pure identity and pure difference are not real. He concurs with Śa ṃ kara that
the brahman is real. Being the all-inclusive totality of beings, the brahman is the
whole which contains two parts: Consciousness or cit and matter or acit. Thus,
the brahman is cit-acit-granthī, “a knot of consciousness and matter.” Both fnite
centers of consciousness and the material nature, belonging to the brahman,
are in it, and as belonging to the brahman, they are ultimately real. The brahman is an organic unity characterized by difference. R āmānuja recognizes as
real three factors: The brahman or God, soul, and matter. Though equally real,
the last two are completely dependent on the frst.80
In this metaphysical theory, the category of substance (dravya) predominates.
One substance, which is a part of another, functions as the latter’s qualifying
attribute. The human individual consists of two substances: A body and the
soul. The two, being parts of a whole, are inseparably connected with each
other.81 Perhaps, the most original aspect of R āmānuja’s philosophy is the
rejection of the principle that to be real means to be independent. Though the
soul and matter in themselves are substances, in relation to brahman they are
his attributes. They are brahman’s body; he is their soul.
R āmānuja’s notion of apṛthaksiddhi or inseparability explains this relation.82
This relation of inseparability obtains between a substance and its qualities; it
may also be found between two substances. Just as qualities are real and cannot exist apart from the substances in which they subsist; similarly, matter and
soul are parts of the brahman and cannot exist without the brahman. The soul of
a human being, though different from his body, controls and guides his body;
likewise, the brahman, though different from the matter and souls, directs and
sustains them. To put it differently, the brahman is like a person and the various
selves and material objects constitute his body. Thus, R āmānuja’s brahman is
not an unqualifed identity; it is identity-in-difference, an organic unity, or
better yet, an organic union in which one part predominates and controls the
other part.83 The part and the whole then become a prototype of the large
ontological relation. Body and soul are related with this sort of inseparability
as much in the case of human individuals as in the case of the brahman. Just as
knowledge is substance-attribute, similarly the self (cit) is itself a substance as
well as a quality of the being or the brahman. The negative way of indicating
the relation emphasizes the identity of being and its attributes, and at the
same time retains the conception of relation in the integrity of being by rejecting absolute oneness (identity) which one fnds in the Advaita Vedānta of
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Śa ṃ kara. Thus, as the logical subject, the cit is a mode (prak āra) of the brahman,
but as an ethical subject, it is a monad which has its own intrinsic nature.
Thus, whereas for Śa ṃ kara, the brahman as pure intelligence is devoid of
any distinctions, pure identity without any difference (nirgu ṇa), R āmānuja’s
brahman is identity-in-difference. When the Upaniṣads describe the brahman
as devoid of qualities, they mean that the brahman does not have any negative
qualities, not that it does not have any qualities whatsoever. It possesses many
characteristics (sagu ṇa). Existence, consciousness, bliss, knowledge, and truth
are some of his attributes. These attributes are responsible for his determinate
nature. The brahman, for R āmānuja, is not different from the personal God of
theism. But it includes all differences between conscious individuals and the
material world. The fundamental principle of thinking then becomes identity-in-difference rather than pure identity. Everything is real, but only as
included in the one reality; the totality is the supreme person, the puru ṣottama,
who is all-knowing, all-powerful, blissful, and infnite. However, when considered as independent of, and falling outside of the totality, all differences are
mere appearances.
The Brahman and the World
R āmānuja argues that the brahman is real and the world rooted in the brahman
is also real. He takes the Upaniṣadic account of creation literally: The omnipotent God creates the world out of himself. During dissolution, God remains
as the cause with subtle matter and unembodied souls forming his body. This
is the causal state of the brahman. The entire universe remains in a latent and
undifferentiated state. God’s will impels this undifferentiated subtle matter to
be transformed into gross and unembodied souls into embodied ones according to their karmas. This is the effect state of the brahman.
Creation, for R āmānuja, actually takes place, and the world is as real as
the brahman itself. Accordingly, R āmānuja holds that such Upaniṣadic texts as
“there is no multiplicity here” (“neha n ān ā asti kiñcana”) do not really deny the
multiplicity of objects, of names and forms, but rather assert that these objects
do not have any existence apart from the brahman. It is indeed true, concedes
R āmānuja, that some Upaniṣadic texts articulate the brahman as wielder of a
magical power (m āyā); however, m āyā, argues R āmānuja, is a unique power
of God by which God creates the wonderful world of objects. He vehemently
criticizes Śa ṃ kara’s theory of the falsity of the world as a creation of m āyā.
The created world of the brahman, for R āmānuja, is as wonderful as the
brahman itself.
There is, according to R āmānuja, no object which is neither sat nor asat
(as Śa ṃ kara argues). All things are real or sat. Knowledge corresponds to its
object. The existent alone is cognized (satkhyāti). Even when I mistake a rope
for a snake, what I see is real (not the Naiyāyika’s elsewhere-existent thing).
Because of darkness, etc., I do not perceive everything that is there. The longish shape, size, color, etc., that I see are all there, but the fbrous texture, etc.,
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I do not see. R āmānuja uses the doctrine of quintuplication to substantiate his
theory, which holds that from a metaphysical perspective everything involves
everything. Some particles of silver are present in the shell. When the shell is
mistaken for silver, silver is there in a miniscule form.
Not all illusions, however, can be explained in this manner. A person’s perception of a white conch as yellow requires a different explanation. How do
we account for the yellowness of the conch in such cases? R āmānuja maintains
that a person with a jaundiced eye, perceiving a white conch as yellow, transmits to the conch the yellowness of the bile through the rays of the eyes, and
as a result the new color is imposed on the conch and its natural whiteness is
obscured. Hence, there is no subjective element in error. Things perceived in
dreams are created by God for the dreamers so that they may enjoy fruits of
their past actions. So, knowledge is of the given, and agreement extends from
the “what” (exists) to the “that” (knowledge corresponding to the content of a
real object). Error is only partial knowledge.
A corollary of this thesis is that knowledge implies both the subject and the
object.84 It is the subject that knows the object with the help of its essential
attributes (dharmabh ūtajñ āna).85 All knowledge is characterized by attributes,
and there is no knowledge devoid of attributes.86 Hence, R āmānuja’s theory
is known as satkhyātivāda, which literally means “sat (existence) alone is cognized.” Applied to the relation between the brahman and the world, we can
say, the world is real, but only a part of the totality that is the brahman. Error
consists in mistaking the part to be an autonomous whole. Thus, correction of
error is not a total negation (as Śa ṃ kara argues), but with additional knowledge, one knows more about that yonder objects than he did originally.
R āmānuja rejects Śa ṃ kara’s theory of causality that only the cause is real,
and all effects are false appearances. R āmānuja’s own theory comes rather
close to Sāṁ khya satk āryavāda that there is a real causation, the effect being a
real transformation of the cause. Finite individual souls and material nature
are real transformations, so that even in the causal state, the brahman contains
matter and souls within it. R āmānuja distinguishes between the body of the
brahman and his soul on the analogy of fnite individuals. The body of the brahman consists of matter and fnite souls, and his soul is his infnite, all-knowing
consciousness.
The brahman thus is both the material and the effcient cause of the world
and continues to be “the inner controller” of what he creates. There is no
contradiction in saying that the same thing is both the material and effcient
cause. The potter’s wheel, e.g., is the effcient cause of a pitcher, and the material cause of its own form and qualities. As both cit and acit, the brahman is
the material cause, while as idea and will, he is the effcient cause. Finally, we
must note that for R āmānuja, time is real, and is directly perceived as a quality
of all perceived entities. Time is eternal in the sense that it is never destroyed.
If someone were to ask, “how does the one contain the many?” R āmānuja
in response would put forth the grammatical principle of sām ān ādhikar ṇya or
the principle of coordination. With the help of this principle, R āmānuja rejects
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the concepts of bheda (difference) and abheda (non-difference) and institutes the
concept of vi śe ṣa (predication). Following this principle, R āmānuja argues that
in all instances of predication what is predicated is not a bare identity but a
substance that is characterized by different attributes.
To explain this, let me turn to R āmānuja’s interpretation of the classic
Upaniṣadic text, “So ‘yam Devadatta,” i.e., “this is that Devadatta,” which,
for R āmānuja, is not an identity judgment as it is for Śa ṃ kara. R āmānuja argues that the words in a sentence with different meanings can denote the same
thing. For example, Devadatta of the past and the Devadatta of the present
cannot be entirely identical, because the person seen at the present and the
person seen in the past are different, have different meanings, yet both refer
to the same person. Similarly, unity and diversity, the one and the many, can
co-exist and can be reconciled in a synthetic unity. Thus, with the help of this
rule, R āmānuja, on the one hand, rejects the principle of abstract bare identity and, on the other hand, institutes a principle of differentiation at the very
center of identity. There is no need to deny the many; the many characterize
the one.
The Self, Bondage, and Liberation
On R ā mā nuja’s theory, each individual self ( j īva) is a substantial reality, and
a substance can serve as a quality of the whole of which it is a part. For
example, a stick (da ṇḍa) is a substance, a thing; it also qualifes the person
who carries it, and he is called a “da ṇḍin.” To the question, then, whether
the individual selves have their own substantive being or are merely adjectival, R ā mā nuja’s says they are “both.” A fnite substance depends on the
infnite whole, i.e., the brahman, and the brahman is qualifed by both cit and
acit (citacitvi śi ṣta).
Human beings, according to R āmānuja, have a real body as well as a soul.
Given that the body is made of matter, it is fnite. The soul, however, exists
eternally, though it is also a part of God. It is subtle, which allows it to penetrate unconscious substances. Consciousness is not an essence, but an eternal
quality of the soul. The sense of “I” is not missing in the waking, dreaming,
and dreamless sleep states. Waking up from deep sleep, one says “I slept well,”
“I did not know anything,” which implies that one did not know any object.
The soul remains conscious of itself as “I am” in all states. R āmānuja argues
that the Bhagavad G īt ā also holds that God is a person, the supreme person,
God refers to himself as an “I.”
Both the individual souls and God are embodied. A brief review of
R āmānuja’s concept of “body” or “śar īra” would provide further insights and
help my readers understand this complicated sense of embodiment. Whereas
the Naiyāyikas defne “body” as the locus or the support (āśraya) of effort,
sense, and enjoyment, R āmānuja defnes “body” in terms of “subservience to
the spirit.” The body depends on the will of the spirit for its movement. There
never was or will be a time in which this relation between the body and the
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soul did not exist. It is a necessary relation of “inseparability.” Even before
creation God’s body existed but only in its original state, i.e., prak ṛti, the stuff
that undergoes change. Apart from his body, God is unchanging. Thus, God’s
being has both a spiritual and a material part, though prak ṛti originally, i.e.,
prior to the world creation, as belonging to God’s body, was pure (“pure” in
the sense of being only of the sattva quality).
In sa ṃsāra (the embodied existence), the soul wrongly identifes itself with
the body on account of karmas (past deeds) and ignorance. Though the soul
is infnitely small, it illumines every part of the body in which it is housed.
Accordingly, R ā mā nuja distinguishes between two meanings of the “I”: In
one sense, the “I” means the aha ṁk āra or egoism, which is to be overcome
and conquered, while, in another sense, the “I” means “the knower.” The
knower self refers to himself as the “I” with a soul. There are innumerable
individual souls; they are qualitatively alike but differ in number. In this
respect, R ā mā nuja’s conception of the individual soul corresponds to that
of Leibniz, who advocates a qualitative monism and quantitative pluralism
of monads.87
Mok ṣa, according to R āmānuja, cannot be brought about by mere knowledge. Work, knowledge, and devotion to God are needed to attain freedom
from ignorance, karma, and embodied existence. “Work,” R āmānuja holds,
means different rites and rituals prescribed in the Vedas according to one’s
caste and situation in life. These duties must be performed without any desire
for the rewards. Disinterested performance of one’s duties is the key here.
Such a performance destroys the accumulative effects of actions. The study
of the M īmāṁsā texts (i.e., the texts that explain how the rites and ceremonies should be performed) is necessary to ensure the right performance of
duties. Accordingly, R āmānuja makes the study of M īmāṁsā a necessary prerequisite to the study of Vedānta.
The study of the M īmāṁsā texts and the correct performance of one’s duties
lead one to realize that sacrifcial rites and rituals do not lead to freedom from
one’s embodied existence; hence, the necessity of the knowledge of Vedānta,
which aids in developing one’s intellectual convictions about the nature of
God, the external world, and one’s own self. Such a knowledge reveals to
the seeker of wisdom that God is the creator, sustainer, and destroyer of the
world, and that the soul is a part of God and is controlled by him. Study and
refection further reveal to the aspirant that neither the correct performance
of one’s duties nor an intellectual knowledge of the real nature of God can lead
to freedom from embodiment. Such a freedom can only be attained by the
free, loving grace of God. Accordingly, one should dedicate oneself to the service of God. R āmānuja, in short, unlike Śa ṃ kara, maintains that the path of
devotion leads one to freedom. Knowledge, combined with bhakti, can destroy
ignorance, but mok ṣa, in the long run, is brought about not by the individuals’
own efforts but by God’s grace (dayā). One needs to give up a false sense of
independence, i.e., pride, and seek his mercy by completely surrendering himself to God, which is “prapatti.”
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Thus, what brings about mok ṣa is not the aspirant’s self-surrender, but God’s
own infnite compassion for the devotee. The followers of R āmānuja differ as
to the extent of activity and passivity involved in the process. Some emphasize
more initiative on the part of the aspirant, others more passivity. Some prefer
to use the analogy of a monkey’s little one who actively clings to the mother’s
body: Still others prefer the analogy of the kitten’s complete passivity such
that the mother cat just picks him up at the neck. In any case, the steps in
the process are: (1) Knowledge of God’s infnitely perfect nature, (2) constant
meditation (dhyāna) on him, (3) resulting in uninterrupted thought of God culminating in immediately experiencing him, (4) one’s completely surrendering
oneself to him, (5) leading to God’s infnite mercy that destroys one’s karma,
ignorance, and bondage.
To sum up, the path of devotion, for R āmānuja, involves constant meditation, prayer, and devotion to God. Meditation on God as the object of love
accompanied by the performance of daily rites and rituals removes one’s ignorance and destroys past karmas. The soul is liberated; it is not reborn. It shines
in its pristine purity.
Unlike Śa ṃ kara, the soul according to R āmānuja does not become identical with God; it becomes similar to God. Mok ṣa is a state in which the individual self becomes pure and perfected and enjoys God’s fellowship eternally.
The last vestige of egoism is removed. But all this, i.e., the highest goal, cannot
be achieved simply by one’s own effort, or even by knowledge alone.
R āmānuja rejects the notion of complete identity between the brahman or
God and fnite selves. Individual selves are fnite and cannot be identical
to God in every respect. God not only pervades but controls the entire universe. As the existence of a part is inseparable from the whole, and that of a
quality is inseparable from the substance in which it inheres; similarly, the
existence of a fnite self is inseparable from God. Accordingly, his interpretation of the Upani ṣadic statement “you are that” is very different from that
of Śa ṃ kara. For Śa ṃ kara, the relation between “that” and “you” is one of
complete identity. R ā mā nuja, however, maintains that in the Upaniṣadic
statement under consideration, “that” refers to God, the omniscient, omnipotent, all-loving, creator of the world, and “you” refers to God existing
in the form of I-consciousness, the fnite human consciousness. The identity
in this context should be construed to mean an identity between God with
certain qualifcations and the individual soul with certain other qualifcations. To put it differently, God and fnite selves are the same substance,
although they possess different qualities, which explains the name of the system Vi śiṣt ā dvaita, i.e., “qualifed identity” or “identity with certain qualifcations.” Thus, whereas in the non-dualistic Ved ā nta of Śa ṃ kara liberation
is realization of the non-difference between the brahman and the liberated
self, in the qualifed non-dualistic Vedānta of R āmānuja, the liberated self
lives in eternal communion with God.
Before concluding this chapter, I will briefy sum up the important differences between Śa ṃ kara and R āmānuja.
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IV Śaṃkara and R ām ānuja
Interpretation of the Upaniṣadic Texts
We already know that there are two descriptions of the brahman in the
Upaniṣads: The positive and the negative. To recapitulate, we fnd the texts
that describe the brahman as being the origin and the sustainer of all beings
and as that into which they all return. The Upaniṣads also assert “none of this
is the brahman.” These texts throughout the centuries have posed problems for
commentators and they have tried to reconcile these seemingly inconsistent
statements. For Śa ṃ kara, affrmative sentences are only provisional, only to
be denied eventually, because the negative sentences state the higher truth,
articulated as brahman is none of these. The world and the fnite individuals
are not real; the brahman alone is real. R āmānuja argues what is negated is the
presumed autonomous reality of fnite things, but all of them have their reality
as parts of one all-comprehensive totality, i.e., brahman.
The Brahman as Indeterminate and Determinate
The brahman, for Śa ṃ kara, timeless, unconditioned, undifferentiated, is
that about which nothing can be affrmed. The brahman is nirgu ṇa; it does
not possess any qualities. It is indeterminate. It is that state of being where
all subject/object distinction is obliterated. The brahman defes all positive
determinations. Sagu ṇa brahman is the brahman as interpreted and affrmed
from a limited, empirical standpoint. It is described as saccid ānanda, i.e., as
existence (sat), consciousness (cit), and bliss (ānanda). Descriptions belong to
the perceptual-conceptual realm of human experiences and, hence, limited
in scope.
According to R āmānuja, the brahman is sagu ṇa; it is not a distinctionless reality. R āmānuja argues that when Upaniṣads describe the brahman as devoid of
qualities, they mean that the brahman does not have any negative qualities, not
that it does not have any qualities whatsoever. It possesses a number of good
qualities (sagu ṇa). These attributes are responsible for its determinate nature.
The brahman, for R āmānuja, is not different from the personal God of theism.
The brahman is an organic unity, a unity which is characterized by diversity.
R āmānuja recognizes as real three factors: The brahman or God, soul, and
matter. Though equally real, the last two are absolutely dependent on the frst.
Consciousness as Self-Manifesting vs. Intentional
On Śa ṃ kara’s theory, pure consciousness is self-manifesting, and it is not a
possible object of any pram āṇa. In other words, consciousness is non-intentional. R āmānuja considers this to be totally mistaken. Consciousness is always of an object, and it is self-manifesting only when it is directed toward an
object. When I apprehend a thing in perception now, then only, i.e., at that very
moment, my perceptual consciousness manifests itself to me. Subsequently, i.e.,
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at other moments, that consciousness does not manifest itself to me, nor does
it ever manifest itself to other selves. So, on Rāmānuja’s theory, consciousness
manifests itself to its own subject; at the moment, it also manifests an object. Śaṃkara’s self-manifesting pure consciousness is a fgment of imagination. In modern
Western philosophical language, Rāmānuja ties intentionality and refexivity to
consciousness. Without intentionality, consciousness cannot be refexive.
Brahman as Sat, Cit, and Ānanda
Śa ṃ kara regards brahman as pure bliss. Its nature is bliss or ānanda, just as it
is also pure knowledge. R āmānuja argues that “bliss” and “knowledge” are
qualities of the brahman. It is absurd to take them to be identical with the brahman. If that were the case, such texts as “brahman is sat, cit, and ānanda” would
be tautologies, and the words “sat,” “cit,” and “ānanda” synonymous. A string
of synonymous words does not make a sentence. Each of the constituent terms
must stand for a quality belonging to the brahman. Brahman is a qualifed whole
which contains within its being the world and fnite selves.
Status of Avidyā or Ignorance
For Śa ṃ kara, the silver and the snake that appear in illusory perceptions are
neither real (sat) nor unreal (asat), but indescribable either as sat or asat. This
new category of entity is presented in experience but is subsequently negated
in the same locus in which it was presented. Such an object is called “mithyā”
or false. Ignorance is beginningless having two functions: Concealment of the
real and the projection of the mithyā upon it. The world and the fnite things
are mithyā in this sense.
R āmānuja launches a severe critique of the Śa ṃ kara’s theory of error (and of
the associated theory of ignorance). Of the various objections that R āmānuja
raises against Śa ṃ kara’s account, I will mention only four.
1
2
R āmānuja asks: What is the locus or āśraya of ignorance? To put it differently, where does ignorance reside? It cannot reside in the fnite individual, because the individual self is a product of ignorance. The brahman
cannot be its locus either, because the brahman is of the nature of knowledge, which destroys ignorance. Ignorance and knowledge being contradictories cannot have the same locus. Thus, it is impossible to determine
the locus of ignorance.
Ignorance, argues Śa ṃ kara, veils the self-luminous brahman. R āmānuja
asks: what is meant by the “concealment of luminosity”? It may mean either the obstruction in the origination of the luminosity or the destruction
of the luminosity. R āmānuja argues that the luminosity is not produced,
so the question of its obstruction does not arise. Thus, the concealment
of luminosity can only mean the destruction of the brahman’s luminosity,
which would amount to the destruction of its essential nature.
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3
4
R āmānuja argues that the Advaita self-luminous consciousness becomes
conscious of the world of objects on account of some defect, i.e., avidyā.
What is the exact nature of avidyā as an imperfection or defect in cit? Is
this defect real or not real? Śa ṃ kara argues that it is not real; it explains
our errors. It explains not only such illusions as rope-snake but also the
appearance of the world. If it is said that the brahman itself may be regarded as having the defect, then there would be no need of postulating
avidyā, because then the brahman itself would be regarded as the cause of
the world, but in that case, there could not be any release for the fnite
individual, because the brahman being eternal, its defect would also be
eternal.
R āmānuja states that it is impossible to defne ignorance. Śa ṃ kara argues
that ignorance is indescribable, because it is neither sat, nor asat, nor both
sat and asat at the same time. R āmānuja argues that “sat” and “asat” are
contradictories; there is no third possibility. Thus, to say that the false object is neither sat nor asat is to violate a basic principle of logic. R āmānuja
concludes that ignorance cannot be defned.
V Concluding Remarks
The above discussion will give my readers an idea of the kinds of objections
R āmā nuja raised against Śa ṃ kara’s theory of ignorance. The followers of
Śa ṃ kara have systematically refuted these objections to substantiate their
own theory of ignorance. Irrespective of which account one fnds plausible,
there is no doubt that R ā mā nuja’s critique of Śa ṃ kara has left its indelible
mark on the Advaita philosophy. R ā mā nuja avoids both monism and dualism and provides his followers with a spiritual experience of the brahman or
God that harmonizes the demands of reason and immediate experience,
philosophy, and religion. Traditionally, a person must belong to one of the
three higher castes to pursue the path of mok ṣa. R ā mā nuja recognized that
irrespective of caste and rank, one may follow the spiritual path to attain
union with God. This accommodating spirit made it possible for Viśi ṣt ā dvaita to acquire many followers and make it popular in India through the
ages. It uplifted the lower castes, and therein lies one of its most important
contributions.
Study Questions
1. Explain clearly the Advaita conception of the brahman. Discuss the differences between the nirgu ṇa and the sagu ṇa brahman.
2. Discuss superimposition. What is the signifcance of this notion for
Śa ṃ kara’s philosophy?
3. Discuss the levels of reality in Advaita Vedānta. What is m āyā? Discuss
the three senses of m āyā. Can the Advaitin analysis of the relation between the brahman and the world be vindicated?
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4. Śa ṃ kara argues that the fnite self and the brahman are non-different.
Critically discuss this thesis. Does it make sense to you? Give reasons for
your position. How does one attain mok ṣa in Advaita Vedānta?
5. Discuss the six sources of knowledge in Advaita Vedānta.
6. Discuss R āmānuja’s conception of the brahman. What are some of the
differences between the Śa ṃ kara and R āmānuja’s conceptions of the
brahman?
7. Compare and contrast the status of the world in Advaita and Viśiṣṭādvaita
philosophies.
8. How does one attain mok ṣa in Viśiṣṭādvaita? Outline the important differences between the Advaita and the Viśiṣṭādvaita conceptions of mok ṣa.
9. Read the passage carefully, and answer the questions asked.
Conversation between Larry (Follower of
Nāgārjuna’s Mādhyamika Buddhism) and Sajjan
(Follower of Śaṃkara’s Advaita Vedānta)
Suppose Larry argues, “I also believe that there are different levels of truth,
e.g., the conventional (sa ṃsāra) and the transcendental truth (param ārtha satt ā).
Like you, I also believe that phenomena that are experienced are not permanent; dukkha and sa ṃsāra are conventional truths, and their cessation is the
noumenal truth. For us, nirvāṇa and sa ṃsāra are not two ontologically distinct
levels, but one reality viewed from two different perspectives; for you, the
world is empirically real grounded in the reality of the brahman. Finally, I like
an Advaitin, believe that that negation is higher than affrmation, and believe
that that higher truth is grasped in prajñ ā (direct intuition). I am therefore a
good Advaitin as well as a good Mādhyamakan.”
•
•
•
Discuss some of the important differences between Nāgārjuna and
Śa ṃ kara.
Do you fnd Larry’s arguments convincing? If yes, why yes? If not, why
not?
Which philosophy appeals to you more, Nāgārjuna or Śa ṃ kara? Give
reasons for your answer.
Suggested Readings
For translations of the Ved ānta S ūtras from the Advaita perspective, see George
Thibaut (tr.), The Ved ānta-S ūtras with the Commentary of Śa ṅkarācārya, Vols.
34 & 38 of the Sacred Books of the East (Oxford: The Clarendon Press,
1890, 1896); Eliot A. Deutsch, Advaita Ved ānta: A Philosophical Reconstruction
(Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1968) is an excellent introduction
available on Advaita; for Advaita epistemology, see Swāmī Mādhavānanda
(tr.), Ved ānta Paribh āṣā (Mayavati: Advaita Ashrama, 1983).
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For translations of the Ved ānta S ūtras from the Viśiṣṭādvaita perspective, see
George Thibaut (tr.), The Ved ānta-S ūtras with the Commentary of R ām ānuja,
Sacred Books of the East (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1904), Vol. 48;
John Carman, The Theolog y of R ām ānuja: An Essay in Interreligious Understanding (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1974), is best available introduction on R āmānuja; for epistemology, see K. C. Varadachari, R ām ānuja’s
Theory of Knowledge (Triupati: Devasthanama Press, 1943).
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Part VII
THE BHAGAVAD G Ī TĀ
15
THE BH AGAVA D G Ī T Ā
I Introduction
The Bhagavad G īt ā has acquired a place of incomparable honor in the religious and philosophical literatures of India. It is not an exaggeration to say
that it is one of the most well-known and widely read Hindu texts. The fact
that Śa ṃ kara and R āmānuja, two important classical commentators of the
Vedānta school, regarded the G īt ā as one of the three primary sources of the
Vedānta tradition offers eloquent testimony to its importance. Scholars are
not unanimous regarding the dates of the G īt ā. Tradition, however, maintains that it was authored somewhere between the third and the frst centuries BCE, and is taken to be a part of the epic Mah ābh ārata. Given that it
contains numerous references to the views of the Buddha, it is safe to say that
the G īt ā is post-Buddhistic. It expresses the quintessence of the Vedas and the
Upaniṣads. Many classical and modern scholars in the East and the West
alike have translated and commented on it: Wilhelm von Humbolt characterizes it as the most beautiful and truly philosophical poem; Mahatma Gandhi
calls it the guide and solace of his life; and the poet T. S. Eliot considered it
one of the two most important philosophical poems in world literature, the
other being Dante’s Divine Comedy. Thus, it is not surprising that the G īt ā has
been translated into all the major languages of the world, and there are close
to one hundred translations of it in English.
One of the G īt ā’s unique features, as a philosophical poem, is that it is set
in the background of a battlefeld on which one of the India’s fercest internecine battles was fought. Philosophical discourses are given in academies
or āśramas, but the G īt ā was delivered by its teacher on the battlefeld on the
eve of the commencement of the battle. The pupil to whom the discourse
was delivered was not a student, not a contemplative mind inquiring into the
truth of things, but rather the warrior who had already earned the fame of
the country’s greatest archer. The occasion for this discourse was not a theoretical inquiry of the pupil, but rather Arjuna’s state of practical indecision at
which he had arrived. Should he fght in the battle and kill an innumerable
number of people including the members of his own family and friends? This
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most unusual occasion provides the point of departure for an abstruse philosophical discourse. It is therefore not surprising that despite numerous metaphysical and religious chapters in the G īt ā, for many readers, for example, for
Mahatma Gandhi, the central teaching of this very complex text lies in what
it teaches about karma yoga, the path of action.
In the sixth century BCE, Gautama Buddha in his Noble Eightfold Path
had already popularized the idea of a path. However, about the same time,
Hinduism also had developed its own notion of alternate paths. Here, it
is more important to recall the Hindu conception of the four goals of life,
viz., (1) artha or material wealth and well-being, (2) k āma or erotic pleasure,
(3) dharma or the pursuit of virtuous (ethical) life, and (4) mok ṣa or the ideal
of freedom from the chains of karma and rebirth. These four goals were
not ends which one ought to pursue, but rather ends which human beings
in fact do pursue. There was possibly a hierarchical order among them;
though there was no universal agreement about this hierarchy, they all
agreed that mok ṣa is the highest and the ultimate good. The problematic aspect of the Bhagavad G īt ā is the relation between dharma and mok ṣa. The text
of the G īt ā does not take up the other two of the four goals; let me therefore
focus on the goals of dharma and mok ṣa to explain the paths discussed in the
Bhagavad G īt ā.
While the meaning of the word “dharma” is notoriously varied,1 for my
present purposes, it would suffce to note that it stands for all those virtues
and duties which determine a person’s relationship to himself/herself, to other
persons, to society, to the gods, and to the universe as a whole. Our sources
of the knowledge of dharma are the scriptures and the tradition. The world
of dharma, therefore, is enormously complex, differentiated, and structured.
Taking into view the ancient Hindu belief, which the G īt ā also articulates, all
human beings are divided into four var ṇas 2 depending on a person’s aptitudes
and abilities. These are the brahmins, i.e., priests and scholars; the k ṣatriyas or
the warriors; the vai śyas, i.e., the businesspersons, farmers, and tradesmen;
and the śūdras or those who serve the other three.
Each var ṇa has a set of duties attached to it. The brahmins personify spiritual
and intellectual wisdom which includes forgiveness, self-control, serenity, uprightness, etc.; the k ṣatriyas enforce the rules, and represent heroism, fortitude,
political leadership; the vai śyas, the traders and the merchants, represent practical intelligence, adaptive skills; and the śudras serve the above three var ṇas.
Dharma includes both virtues and duties of the members of each var ṇa, and
those virtues and duties that are obligatory on each human being. Thus, it
is the duty of a warrior to fght for a noble cause as against the forces of evil.
The context of the Bhagavad G īt ā is constituted precisely by the relationship
between the two parts of the world of dharma, viz., the dharma belonging to the
specifc var ṇas and the dharma that is common to all human beings. The teaching on the face of it is intended to resolve a perceived contradiction between
the two. I will quickly recapitulate this context.
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II The Historical Context and
the Setting of the G ītā
The very frst chapter of the G īt ā depicts Arjuna as a hero caught between the
mandates of social code and the obligations to his family and friends. It describes the two armies on the eve of the battle; Arjuna is sitting on his chariot
and K ṛṣṇa is acting as his charioteer. Arjuna sees his teachers, friends, uncles,
etc., standing on the opposite side. He is overwhelmed and horror stricken
with the thought of killing his friends and relatives. Arjuna’s dilemma is as
follows: He belongs to the k ṣatriya var ṇa (warrior var ṇa), which dictates that he
fghts in an impending righteous battle. His svadharma (dharma specifc to his
var ṇa) requires that he fght, but his familial duties (dharmas) and obligations
require that he protect his family members—creating a terrible confict. He
is confused and not sure as to what he should do. He lays down his arms in
frustration; he does not want to win the battle at the cost of killing his own
friends, relatives, and teachers. However, if he does fght, he is sure to kill the
members of his own family, including some of his teachers, who are lined up
on the other side. So, he refuses to fght, and turns to his charioteer, his counselor, K ṛṣṇa (Arjuna was not aware of K ṛṣṇa’s real identity at the time that his
charioteer is incarnation of the Lord Viṣṇu in human form) and informs him
that he has decided not to fght.
In Arjuna’s words3:
I do not wish to kill them,
though they are prepared to slay us, K ṛṣṇa …. (I.35)
The sins of men who destroy the family,
create disorder in society
that undermines the eternal laws
of caste and family duty. (I.43)
The faw of pity afficts my entire being,
and conficting sacred duties have bewildered my reason;
I ask you to tell me decisively—which is better?
I am your student, teach me for I have come to you [for instruction]. (II.7)
Arjuna’s dilemma arises because the world of dharma is not a coherent whole;
it is internally inconsistent. Hegel had drawn attention to a similar contradiction within the Greek ethos, whose resolution led to the rise of the modern world. Another person who saw a contradiction within the ethical was
Kierkeggard, who discusses how Abraham’s sense of duty reached its limit
when he was called upon by God to sacrifce his own son. Like Abraham,
Arjuna was also confused and confounded and he was overtaken by fear
and trembling.
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In order to understand K ṛṣṇa’s intervention at this point, one must remember that the two paths, viz., the path of action and that of knowledge, had
already been advanced as paths to mok ṣa. There was a dichotomy between the
path of action promoted by the Vedic religion (in which action was understood
in the narrow sense of the ritualistic action, and involvement in the world and
the community) and the path of knowledge which was Advaitic in inspiration
(renunciation of worldly roles and duties). Arjuna had two solutions open to
him to resolve this impossible situation: Either give up all obligations to the
ideal of doing one’s duty and lead a life of action (pravṛtti) or live like a hermit
and lead the life of a renunciant (nivṛtti). Not that Arjuna was inclined to follow
the path of renunciation, but K ṛṣṇa took the opportunity to inform Arjuna
that the path of renunciation was not meant for him, and that the adherence
to this path would be wrong for him.
The proponents of the path of knowledge “opposed” the path of action,
because action is always performed with a desire for the results. According
to a common psychological theory supported by most Indian philosophers
with slight modifcations, it is the desire to achieve certain benefcial results and avoid certain unwelcome results so that one is motivated to do
something. Such a desire leads to effort, and the effort, if successful, ends
in the performance of action and the desired result follows. Often, possibly
in all cases, whatever else may be desired, two consequences are intended:
(1) Happiness or sukha, and (2) avoidance of unhappiness or dukkha. Some of
these consequences may be achieved in this life, whereas some others in the
future lives.
Again, one might argue, as Gautama Buddha did, that even these results
are necessarily relative, because happiness may be counted as unhappiness
or pain when contrasted with possible but not achieved greater happiness or
when happiness passes away. Thus, both happiness and pain are transitory,
and in this sense reducible to pain. Hindu thinking did not follow this reduction of happiness to pain, but rather recognized, better yet emphasized, that
the desire for happiness which motivates a life of action, be it this-worldly
or the other-worldly, may lead to the promised heaven but not to release from
the bondage of karma and rebirth. Desire perpetuates bondage. Thus, it seems
that the path of action, the sort of the path advocated by Vedic ritualism,
cannot be conducive to the attainment of mok ṣa.
It is at this point that the G īt ā’s most famous and the original contribution to the Hindu thought lies. It lies in the thesis that the path of action
can be an effective means to mok ṣa, only if actions are performed for duty
without being motivated by desire, i.e., when actions are desireless. I will detail
the concept of “desireless actions” (ni ṣk āma karmas) in the fourth section of this
chapter. However, it is crucial to remember here that Arjuna was undecided
about his duty as a warrior, not about attaining mok ṣa; the thematic of mok ṣa
was introduced by K ṛṣṇa. Thus, while responding to Arjuna’s queries, K ṛṣṇa
completely transforms Arjuna’s refusal to fght to the goal of mok ṣa and recommends that if Arjuna is to strive after mok ṣa, he should follow the path of the
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desireless action. In other words, in response to Arjuna’s query why he should
fght, K ṛṣṇa very quickly moves to the question of “how” he should fght, i.e.,
with what attitude he should fght. This transformation of the problem, viz.,
Arjuna’s indecision into another problem, i.e., what is the best path to mok ṣa,
is affected by K ṛṣṇa in several clever moves.
K ṛṣṇa begins with why Arjuna should fght and gives many arguments to
Arjuna in his attempt to persuade him to fght. He reminds Arjuna (1) that the
ātman is immortal and (2) that he belongs to the warrior var ṇa, and it his duty
to fght, and in the process K ṛṣṇa also appeals to his sense of self-esteem on
various levels, emphasizing that if he gives up fghting, his friends and neighbors will look upon him as being a coward, and posterity will blame him for
having shirked his duty. Let us listen to K ṛṣṇa.
III Why Arjuna Should Fight?
Arjuna begins (II.11ff.) with why Arjuna should fght. K ṛṣṇa initially helps
Arjuna to resolve his dilemma from two standpoints: The unqualifed and the
qualifed. From the unqualifed standpoint, K ṛṣṇa reminds Arjuna that the
self is immortal, the body is going to be destroyed sooner or later; so, it is futile
to mourn over the bodies killed in a battle. The soul, however, is immortal; it
transcends birth and death. Let us listen to K ṛṣṇa:
The Soul is Immortal
He who believes that this self is a slayer,
and he who believes that it is slain,
both fail to understand;
the self neither slays nor is slain. (II.19)
The self is neither born, nor does it die,
nor having been can it ever cease to be.
It is unborn, eternal, permanent, and primeval,
it is not slain when the body is slain. (II.20)
The self that dwells in all beings
is immortal in them all,
O Arjuna, for the death of what cannot die,
do not mourn. (II.30)
K ṛṣṇa continues and informs Arjuna that just as a person abandons old
clothes and wears the new ones; similarly, selves abandon old bodies and take
up the new ones. No weapon can pierce this self; fre cannot burn it; water
cannot drench it; and air cannot dry it. This self is eternal, unmoving, present in everything, unmanifested, unthinkable; so, Arjuna should not mourn
death. For the one who is born, death is a certainty, and the dead for sure will
be reborn. Arjuna should not mourn for what cannot be otherwise. Thus,
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continuing his understanding of the nature of the soul, K ṛṣṇa asks Arjuna not
to grieve for the possible death of his opponents.
You belong to the Warrior Var ṇa: It is your
Duty to Fight
From the qualifed perspective standpoint, K ṛṣṇa reminds Arjuna that since
he (Arjuna) belongs to the warrior var ṇa, it is his duty to fght. In K ṛṣṇa’s
words:
[C]onsidering your own (sva = one’s own being or nature) duty as
a soldier, you must not falter,
there exists no greater good for a warrior
than a battle of duty. (II.31)
If you do not fght
this righteous battle,
then you will abandon your duty and
will incur sin. (II.33)
The great warriors will think
that you fed from the battle on account of fear,
and those who hold you in high esteem
will despise you. (II.35)
Many unspeakable words
will be spoken by your enemies
slandering your manhood,
what could be more painful than this? (II.36)
In short, K ṛṣṇa points out that all amicable means of settlement have failed,
moral and spiritual values are at stake; thus, to establish truth and righteousness and restore the moral balance of society, it is the dharma of a soldier to
fght in a righteous battle. In the G īt ā, “duty” (dharma) is taken in a broad sense
in the context of its philosophical and religious foundations. Thus, doing his
dharma, i.e., fghting in the battle, is the only right thing to do for Arjuna.
K ṛṣṇa also argues that no one can completely give up a life of action, and
that even if a person shuts off his outside senses, his mind will still be active
and in that case his claim to have given up action would be a lie. Additionally, if action is unavoidable, then it is better to aim at renunciation while
engaged in action, than the total renunciation of action. So, the question arose
how could one act, do his duties, play his social roles, and yet be free within?
K ṛṣṇa’s answer is to free oneself from the attachments to the “fruits of one’s
actions,” while at the same time doing one’s duty. In short, though initially,
K ṛṣṇa gives arguments to Arjuna to persuade him why he ought to fght, very
soon in the second canto, K ṛṣṇa changes his tune and explains how Arjuna
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ought to fght, i.e., with what spirit Arjuna should to fght, and with this begins
the teaching of karma yoga, the subject of the next section, and the focus of this
chapter.
IV How Arjuna ought to Fight?
Karma Yoga (the Path of Action)
K ṛṣṇa tells Arjuna to do his duty with a spirit of detachment without any desire to receive any benefts for himself.
How Arjuna Ought to Fight?
Action alone should be your concern
never its fruits;
the fruits of actions should not be your motive,
nor attachment to inaction. (II.47)
Perform action that is necessary;
it (action) is more powerful than inaction…. (III.8)
Therefore, always perform without attachment,
any action that must be done,
for in performing action with detachment,
one achieves the highest. (III.19)
Abandoning all attachments to the fruits
of action, ever content, independent,
he does not act [does not accumulate karmas]
even when engaged in action. (IV.20)
A karma yogi whose mind is disciplined,
whose mind and senses are under control,
who unites himself with the self of all,
he is not contaminated though he works. (V.7)
Treating pleasure and pain,
gain and loss, success and defeat alike (sama),
get ready to fght,
you will not incur any sin [does not accumulate karmas]. (II.38)
The verses translated above express the crux of the path of action outlined
in the G īt ā. In terms of action, K ṛṣṇa asks Arjuna to perform actions without
any desire for the fruits of the action for himself. It is this inner freedom from
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attachment, freedom from the desire for the fruits of actions, which in the
fnal analysis is what matters, because giving up of actions is neither possible
nor desirable. Hence, the well-known advice is: You have the obligation and
the right to perform the recommended action, but you do not have the right
either to enjoy or to bemoan the fruits thereof.4
In reading and re-reading the G īt ā for over fve decades, I am not sure
how to understand this moral principle? K ṛṣṇ a repeatedly emphasizes that
actions must be done from a sense of dharma without any desire to gain
benefts. Desires and passions can lead a person astray, prompt a person to
perform selfsh actions, while the performance of dharma without any attachment to its consequences purifes the self and leads to mok ṣa. It has been held by
some scholars (e.g., German philosopher Hegel) that it is not possible to perform actions without any desire for the consequences of the actions. Is K ṛṣṇ a
simply giving an impossible advice violating the principle that “ought” implies “can?”
What is the meaning of “phala” (consequences)? K ṛṣṇa repeatedly asks Arjuna to remain non-attached (to consequences), exhorts him to perform his
dharma, and asserts that the performance of duty without desires leads to
mok ṣa. There are ample examples of this in Indian history. For example,
kings Janaka and A ś vapati achieved mok ṣa by performing actions without
any desire for results; such actions are inspiring and set an example for others to emulate. In giving this advice to Arjuna, K ṛṣṇ a also gives Arjuna his
own example and informs him that he engages in action for the good of
humankind (lokasa ṃgraha)—that if he did not engage in desireless actions,
human beings may follow him and become renunciants, which would create
confusion among humankind. So, Arjuna should do his duty in the spirit of
rendering it as an offer to the “highest lord,” without any desire to receive
the benefts for himself, without a sense of “I,” “mine,” “hate,” “ jealousy,”
“pleasure and pain,” etc. K ṛṣṇ a even goes a step further and informs Arjuna
that it is more important to do the duties of one’s own var ṇa, no matter
how imperfectly done, than the superior performance of the duty of another
var ṇa.
Better to perform one’s own duty though void of merit,
than the superior performance of the duties of another.
Better to die while doing one’s own duty,
perilous is the duty of other human beings. (III.35)
He reiterates this point when he says:
Better to do one’s own duty though devoid of merit,
than to do another’s well performed.
a person does not incur sin [accumulate any karmas]
by doing the duty prescribed by one’s own nature. (XVIII.47)
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Let me sum up the main points of K ṛṣṇa’s discourse so far:
1
2
3
You should do your duty for the sake of duty without any attachment to
its consequences for yourself.
You may do your duty in the spirit of lokasa ṃgraha.
It is better to perform your own dharma imperfectly than the dharma of
another well-performed.
I will briefy comment on these three. First, the G īt ā’s thesis of doing duty for
duty’s sake has had many followers, Gandhi being the most notable among
them. This thesis, however, has given rise to numerous problems.
An important question arises: How to understand the principle of doing
your duty for duty’s sake? The question is: Is it possible to eliminate the desire
for consequences while performing actions? Consider the case of a physician
or a surgeon who treats a patient. Should he not desire that his treatment
cure the patient? Is the G īt ā asserting that the surgeon should do his duty of
treating his patient without any consideration of the likely results that might
follow from his treatment of the patient? Alternately, is the G īt ā asserting that
the surgeon’s efforts should be directed toward curing the patient? Would the
second alternative amount to saying that the surgeon is interested in the consequences? Is it not rather the case that a doctor or a physician’s indifference
to what his treatment yields would give rise to the judgment that the doctor
does not care?
I would suggest both replies are intended by the G īt ā. The frst is a straightforward reply which makes a distinction between the consequences for the
patient irrespective of whether he is cured or not, and the consequences for
the doctor himself. By “fruits,” the G īt ā and the Indian psychology of action
generally mean the latter, as is borne out by the verse II.38 quoted above. In
other words, the G īt ā recommends that the physician should not be motivated
by the likely consequences for herself (viz., whether he suffers fnancial loss,
makes proft, or whether he receives praise or blame for his success or failure
as the case may be). This is true inner freedom, non-attachment, but he should
not be indifferent to whether her treatment cures the patient or hurts him. For
a responsible agent the latter concern is important, while the concern about
his own fortune is not.
The second answer is a little more diffcult, not exactly stated in the G īt ā
but may nevertheless be taken to be not only compatible with the teachings of
the G īt ā but needed for it to hold good. This reply would require asking what
constitutes the identity of an action? How far the identity of an action extends?
In the example under consideration, the identity of an action extends up to
curing the patient, but not to money, fame, and fortune, i.e., “external goods”
in the language of Alasdair MacIntyre.5 In other words, curing the patient is
a constituent of what a surgeon is supposed to do, and these constituents are
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not the “consequences” that the G īt ā has in mind. K ṛṣṇa recommends that the
surgeon should not be interested in the external goods for himself, e.g., money,
pleasure and pain, success and defeat. One should not be attached to these
feelings because their pull over the human mind is very strong.
Arjuna is asked to his duty with “evenness,” “sameness,” (sama ḥ).6 “Samatvam” in the G īt ā means “inner poise,” “balanced indifference,” “equality,” “sameness,” “equanimity,” etc. It is used to signify mastery over one’s
self, the conquering of anger, pride, ambition, etc. The importance of samatvam is emphasized early in the G īt ā and is reiterated often throughout
the text.
The objection that I raised earlier and which I am trying to answer has
an unwarranted assumption or presupposition: Namely, that an agent’s
performing an action or doing something is always and necessarily motivated by the desire for his/her own pleasure and avoidance of his/her own
possible pain. If this were the case, then, of course, it would be psychologically impossible to exclude that motivation and still be an agent. The
psychological theory of action is questionable and may indeed be wrong.
It is certainly necessary in undertaking any action to aim at a result, but
that result need not be one’s own pleasure, proft, or gain; one may simply
wish to cure one’s patient, and not entertain the thought of earning praise
or making some fnancial gain. The G īt ā therefore is not violating the principle “ought implies can.”
Again, one may raise the issue: Does working for lokasa ṃgraha contradict
the themes that the agent should do his duty for the sake of duty and not for
any consequence for himself/herself ? K ṛṣṇ a argues that a karma yogin does not
aim at his/her own success or failure; he aims at the good of humankind
(of the community), not his own good or beneft. The larger the goal one
entertains, the lesser would be his concern for his own fortune and fame.
An action has the following constituents: agent → motivation → action
→ consequence → for oneself or for another. K ṛṣṇ a asks Arjuna to perform
desireless actions, i.e., the agent must not be motivated by the thought of
beneftting himself; the thought of consequences for the others (the patient,
the community, humankind, etc.) should be the motive. Thus, “desireless
action” means “without any desire for the fruits of the action” for the agent of
the action.
Finally, how are we to construe the concept of “svadharma”? A traditional
construal holds that a person’s svadharma is determined by his var ṇa. If he is
a k ṣatriya, his svadharma is to fght for a righteous cause. But such a construal
takes away from the G īt ā the universality of its message and makes it relative
to the Hindu var ṇa-bound duty. On my interpretation of the G īt ā, the actions
of human beings must be motivated by the welfare of the society, that society
as a whole functions the best when each person knows his/her “place” and
works to reach his/her own potential and for the good of the entire society.
I would prefer to say that svadharma signifes that each person has his/her
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“station in society and the duties attached to it.” In that case, svadharma would
mean the individual’s own dharma, something along the line of Bradley’s notion
of “my station and its duties.”
One may wonder, why K ṛṣṇ a found it necessary to emphasize repeatedly
that inactivity is wrong, that action is better than inaction. A review of
the social climate of India during those days would help us to understand
K ṛṣṇ a’s repeated insistence that action is better than inaction. The doctrine of karma, “as you sow, so shall you reap,” dominated the Indian social
scene. People began believing, it is better not to act than to act. To put it
differently, not acting would amount to not accumulating any karmas. Consequently, it became prevalent that the true goal of life, i.e., mok ṣa, can be
attained by renouncing an active life altogether, by becoming a hermit, by
dropping out. In short, there were two ideals prevalent during those days:
Niv ṛtti and prav ṛtti. There were those who believed that renouncing worldly
life is a way to pursue the higher life (niv ṛtti). Again, there were those who
did not wish to pursue a higher life and undertook all recommended actions
with a view to attaining rewards without any worries about accumulating
karmas ( prav ṛtti).
K ṛṣṇ a informs Arjuna that by abandoning his duty, i.e., by inaction, the
true goal of life cannot be realized. One accumulates karmas not only by
“wrong” actions, but also by not doing what one should do. There is no
need for Arjuna to abandon activity, rather he should abandon the attitudes that cause attachments and result in the accumulation of karmas. Our
desires, the sense of the “I” and the “mine,” greed, pleasure, fear, hate, etc.,
bind us to this world. If we do our duties simply because scriptures require
us to do so, or because God wishes us to do so, and without any desire
to gain any benefts for ourselves, then no karmas are generated by such
acts. In so informing Arjuna, K ṛṣṇ a preserves the spirit of renunciation and
demonstrates that one can lead a life of activity without accumulating karmas. Thus, karma yoga is a Golden Mean between the two extremes of prav ṛtti
and niv ṛtti. It does not ask one to renounce actions, but rather to renounce
the attachments to the actions that bind one to the world and perpetuate
the cycle of birth and death.
In the G īt ā, karma yoga is advanced as an effective means for attaining
mok ṣa. Even if it is hard to achieve the practice of karma yoga, it is not for
that reason impossible provided it is rightly understood and the aspirant
clearly comprehends what is entailed in the practice of karma yoga. He must
not only act knowing that actions done with attachment bring bondage,
but also have the right knowledge, i.e., he must understand the distinction
between the lower and the higher self, and that all actions are performed
by the lower nature which is merely an expression of the gu ṇas. K ṛṣṇ a then
proceeds to ground his theory in a large metaphysical theory of the self
and its distinction from prak ṛti. So, I will now turn to this aspect of K ṛṣṇa’s
teaching.
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Path of Knowledge ( Jñāna Yoga)
Path of Knowledge ( Jñāna Marga)
Such contacts (contact of the senses with their objects) do not trouble
who is wise, O K ṛṣṇa,
who remains equal in pain and pleasure,
becomes ft to attain immortality (self-realization). (II.15)
All actions are done
by the gu ṇas of prak ṛti;
but deluded by egoism
the self thinks, “I am the doer.” (III.27)
Just as a faming fre reduces
wood to ashes, O Arjuna;
so, the fre of knowledge,
turns all actions to ashes. (IV.37)
And so, always think of me, while fghting,
with your mind and intellect set on me,
you will come to me,
without any doubt. (VIII.7)
The G īt ā, in its colophon, after each chapter, calls itself a “yoga śāstra.” K ṛṣṇa
invokes Arjuna to achieve “yoga,” “to become a yogi,” “you be a yogin.”7
Who is a “yogi” in the context of the G īt ā? Very early in the G īt ā, K ṛṣṇa
identifes yoga with samatvam (evenness or sameness). A yogi has a sense of equality between success and failure, an attitude of sameness regarding all pairs
of opposites (dvandva). K ṛṣṇa tells Arjuna that a person who sees the path of
renunciation and the path of unselfsh work the same is ft to attain immortality.8 He further points out that samatvam obtained through the buddhi-yoga ( yoga
of intellect) fnds expression in an aspirant’s voluntary resolution to devote
himself to ni ṣk āma karma.9 The essence of buddhi is determination (vyavasāya);
it is not simply intellect but intellect-will and encompasses within its fold both
intellect and decisions.10 It enables a person to achieve resolve and correct
misconceptions about karma, self, etc.
Disciplined by intellect,
one [karma yogi] renounces both good and evil;
so, strive for yoga;
yoga is “karme ṣu kau ṣala,” i.e., it is excellence in action. (II.50)
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Thus, karma yoga is not only ni ṣk āma karma, but also buddhi-yoga. K ṛṣṇa does
not stop here. Basing his theory on the classical Sāṃ khya school of Indian
philosophy, K ṛṣṇa forges an inner connection between the path of action and
the path of knowledge.
The idea of the path of knowledge in the G īt ā refers to the Sāṃ khya idea
that mok ṣa (S āṃkhya “kaivalya”) is brought about by the knowledge of the
distinction between prak ṛti and puru ṣa. On the Sāṃ khya theory, which the
G īt ā accepts, prak ṛti—from which the entire empirical universe including
the human body, mind, intelligence, and sense organs all evolve—consists of
the three gu ṇas, viz., sattva, rajas, and tamas.11 Sattva stands for those qualities
that correspond to moral goodness, purity, and what is conducive to the rise
of the knowledge of the truth. Rajas stands for such qualities as spiritedness,
energy, and activity, and tamas stands for stupor and inaction. The gu ṇas are
not only ever-changing, but they also mutually cooperate and confict with
each other. Puru ṣa or pure consciousness, independent of prak ṛti, is a disinterested spectator, a mere witness. However, puru ṣa, though one, becomes many
empirical selves by virtue of not distinguishing itself from prak ṛti. This nondistinction from prak ṛti and the consequent confusion is the source of bondage
just as the knowledge of the distinction between puru ṣa and prak ṛti is freedom.
Using the conception of the gu ṇas, K ṛṣṇa makes the following points:
1
2
3
All actions are performed by the gu ṇa-self;
You are not a true agent; and
Agency belongs to the empirical person rather than to the pure self. The
idea is that once I know that my true self is neither the agent nor the enjoyer of the fruits (of action), I will no longer be attached to those fruits
(of actions), and I will be able to follow the path of karma yoga. Thus, the
possibility of the path of action lies in the possibility of knowing the true
nature of the self as distinguished from the empirical person, a product of
prak ṛti.
The gu ṇas are agents of everything; they run the wheel of prak ṛti. The self is not
affected by their operations, because it has transcended the gu ṇas; it is indifferent to pleasure and pain, and stone and gold are equal for it.12 Knowledge
allows a person to perform actions without any desire for the fruits of the
actions. K ṛṣṇa says, “One who is able to turn his mind inwards and fnds
contentment in the self is the person who loses interest in actions and is able to
perform actions without any desire for the results of the actions.”13
To emphasize the importance of knowledge, the G īt ā distinguishes between
dravya yajña (material sacrifce) and jñ āna yajña (knowledge sacrifce).14 The latter is superior to the former, i.e., dravya yajña, in which a thing (i.e., ghee or
molten butter) is sacrifced in fre. In this kind of sacrifce, the self is still construed as an agent; it gradually purifes the self, geared toward “purifcation of
the citta (mind),” and when that is done, it leads to jñ āna yajña in which the self
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is taken to be the imperishable, not-doer of any action. “The action” we are
told “fnds fulfllment” in knowledge.15 Thus, once I have the knowledge that
my true self is neither the agent nor the enjoyer of the fruits (of action), I will
no longer be attached to those fruits of (actions), and I will be able to follow
the path of karma yoga. It also clearly demonstrates that the paths of knowledge
and action go together. Thus, the possibility of the path of action lies in the
possibility of knowing the true nature of the self as distinguished from the
empirical person who is a product of the prak ṛti.
However, there is a serious conceptual diffculty in this solution. The diffculty surrounds the systematic ambiguity of the frst-person pronoun “I.” It
stands both for pure self ( puru ṣa) and for empirical self (namely, Bina Gupta).
If empirical self is the agent and the enjoyer, and the knower, then it is Bina
Gupta who possesses all these properties. The pure self is neither the agent
nor the enjoyer. If it is not an agent, enjoyer, etc., can Bina Gupta be a disinterested agent at all when her pure self is not even an agent and her empirical self is always an interested agent? A solution to this question requires
that even the pure self has some sort of agency which is not motivated by
the gu ṇas, but rather a kind of free agency. The S āṃ khya metaphysics does
not leave any room for it, because on the S āṃ khya theory, the pure self is
only a disinterested spectator, a witness; there is no pure willing. Within the
framework of the G īt ā, the problem can be resolved even without invoking
the notion of pure willing, by appealing to another path, viz., the path of
bhakti or devotion.
Path of Devotion (Bhakti Yoga)
“Bhakti” means “devotion,” “love,” etc., and signifes an intense relationship
with which one approaches the divine. It is the loving worship of a specifc
chosen deity, and in the G īt ā, it refers to K ṛṣṇa.
K ṛṣṇa tells Arjuna to perform all actions as an offering to him, in the spirit
of worship to him.16 He further adds that a jīva is saved by keeping in mind
that K ṛṣṇa is the highest lord (parame śvara), and that human beings who are
focused on his cosmic form, whose hearts are devoted to him, and who spend
days and nights in this state are the best yogis. Such devotees (bhaktas) worship
him as the highest, their minds are entirely preoccupied with him, and he
saves these bhaktas from the ocean of sa ṃsāra. K ṛṣṇa emphatically declares that
those who do not worship him cannot attain mok ṣa; he asks Arjuna to focus
his mind and intellect on him, surrender all his actions to him,17 and that if
he is able to do it, there is no doubt that after death, Arjuna would obtain an
existence in K ṛṣṇa.
In short, K ṛṣṇa demands single-minded devotion to him.18 He, however,
does not stop at this; he goes a step further and asserts that the worship of
other Hindu deities is wrong, and that those who worship other deities do not
have the right knowledge. By worshipping other gods, one does not receive
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Path of Devotion (Bhakti Yoga)
Whoever dies remembering me,
when freed from the body,
at the time of death enters my being,
there is no doubt of this. (VIII.5)
…worship me with single-mindedly,
knowing me as the origin of all beings (IX.13)
Focus your mind on me alone,
and place your intellect on me;
then you will dwell in me
of this there is no doubt (XII:8)
If you cannot concentrate
your thought steadily on me,
then seek to reach me, O’ Winner of wealth (Arjuna),
by the repeated practice of yoga. (XII:9)
By performing all actions,
taking refuge in me,
one attains, through my grace,
the eternal, unchanging abode (XVIII:56)
If your thoughts are focused on me,
you will be by my grace transcend all diffculties;
but if, because of ego, you
do not listen to me, you will be lost. (XVIII:58)
any benefts, though one might wrongly believe that he is receiving benefts.
Infuenced by the three gu ṇas, this world does not realize that I (K ṛṣṇa) transcend the gu ṇas, and that I am eternal and imperishable.19 We are informed
that the ignorant do not take refuge in him;20 they do not completely understand his highest, immutable, unchanging nature.21 In fact, any beneft a
worshipper receives comes from K ṛṣṇa. K ṛṣṇa gives birth to all;22 devotion
to K ṛṣṇa brings its own rewards. Those who take refuge in K ṛṣṇa attain
the highest 23 and the worship of other gods takes one deeper and deeper in
the world of ignorance, the realm of rebirth. Again, those who follow the
Vedas do not attain mok ṣa. At places, the G īt ā even asserts that other deities
are ignorant of the knowledge of K ṛṣṇa, which in the fnal analysis leads to
liberation.24
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The G īt ā also articulates the nature of a true devotee or bhakta. A true devotee has no jealousy for any living being; he is friendly toward all, and is
free from the sense of “I” and “mine,” free from attachments to pleasure and
pain, and his mind is always focused on K ṛṣṇa.25 Such a person is K ṛṣṇa’s
dearest devotee. Only by working for K ṛṣṇa, Arjuna will gradually purify his
mind and attain mok ṣa. If Arjuna is not able to set his thoughts steadily on
K ṛṣṇa, then he should seek to reach him by the practice of yoga.26 K ṛṣṇa recommends “abhyāsa-yoga,” i.e., repeated practice of fxing the mind on K ṛṣṇa;
however, if Arjuna is not able to do that then he should dedicate all his actions
to K ṛṣṇa. Thus, in the transition from knowledge to devotion, one has moved
to grounding ethics in religion.
It is obvious, in the G īt ā, though K ṛṣṇa seems to begin by saying that the
path of action is the most appropriate for Arjuna, he quickly proceeds to show
that following this path, one takes recourse to the metaphysical knowledge
of the distinction between puru ṣa and prak ṛti, but eventually moves on to the
religious attitude of devotion and surrender to the will of god who stands behind and rules over both prak ṛti and fnite selves. The three paths in that case
belong together.
V Are There Three Paths in the G ītā ?
The question is: What is the central teaching of the G īt ā? Of the three paths,
which one is primary? Is it karma yoga (path of action), or jñ āna yoga (path of
knowledge), or bhakti yoga (path of devotion)? Reading the text closely impresses upon the reader the very intricate way the three paths are made to
depend upon each other. On my interpretation, the G īt ā does not favor one
path over the other; the three paths together make the G īt ā’s teaching a whole.
Each adds to the other two; they are interdependent.27
To understand the relationship that exists among these three paths, one
must keep in mind that the two paths, those of action and knowledge ( jñ āna),
had already been advanced as two paths to spiritual freedom in Hinduism.
The Vedic religion focused on the path of action (“action” in the narrow sense
of “ritualistic actions”) as undertaking all obligations in the world, while the
path of knowledge, inspired by the Upaniṣads, focused on the renunciation of
worldly roles and duties. One of the K ṛṣṇa’s achievements in the G īt ā lies in
breaking down the opposition between these two paths. At the same time, another path, perhaps more recent in origin, called “K ṛṣṇa Vasudeva cult,” had
already made its appearance. K ṛṣṇa adds this path, i.e., the path of devotion,
to the other two paths.
These disciplines do not contradict each other; rather, they are interdependent. This interdependence of the three yogas has been reiterated throughout the text.28 For example, K ṛṣṇa tells Arjuna that knowledge consists in
attaining attitudes appropriate to further actions without any attachment to
results; it consists in removing one’s attention from the lower self and focusing
on the higher self. Knowledge allows a person to perform actions without any
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desire for the fruits of the actions, which shows that the paths of knowledge
and action go together. K ṛṣṇa says, “One, who is able to turn his mind inward
and fnd contentment in the self, is a person who is able to perform actions
without any desire for the results of the actions.”29 Thus, action and knowledge are not opposed to each other; rather the former is not possible without
the latter. In order to act without any desire for the results of the actions, one
must have the right attitude. This attitude comes by way of an understanding
that all actions are performed by the empirical self and that the real self is not
an actor in the true sense of the term. K ṛṣṇa says that actions are all done by
the lower self; however, because of the deluded I-sense, the self thinks “I am
the doer.”30 Arjuna’s dilemma (whether to fght or not to fght) results from
ignorance; he should cut off all doubts “with the sword of knowledge” and
resort to yoga.31
Devotion to K ṛṣṇa also helps an aspirant realize that the lower self is the
doer of actions, because devotion is an important aspect of action32 and is
related to knowledge. Knowledge and action along with devotion are called
“worship.”33 When K ṛṣṇa at the end of the fourth chapter exhorts Arjuna
to do his duty, and Arjuna cannot muster the courage to do so, K ṛṣṇa suggests that Arjuna should use meditation to gain victory over his desires and
passions, i.e., his lower self. K ṛṣṇa states, “Fixing your mind on me ( jñ āna),
devoted to me (bhakti), sacrifce to me (karma), come to me do not grieve and I
shall release you of all papas (sins).”34 This teaching occurs in other chapters as
well.35 K ṛṣṇa asks Arjuna to control his senses, mind, and understanding and
to perform actions in worship with knowing K ṛṣṇa;36 he asks Arjuna to surrender all actions to K ṛṣṇa, fx his mind on K ṛṣṇa, without any desires, etc.37;
he refers to seeing the self, seeing K ṛṣṇa, practicing yoga, and seeing pleasure
and pain to be the same.38 Thus, non-attached actions are to be accompanied
by meditation in order to gain knowledge of the distinction between the empirical self and the supreme self. K ṛṣṇa says, “He—who, treats alike pleasure
and pain, is given to contemplation with frm resolve without any sense of
ownership and attachments, is dedicated to me—is dear to me.”39 He further informs Arjuna that others with the oblation of knowledge worship him
(K ṛṣṇa) as the one as well as the many, because they see everything in him;40
and, he, who knows his manifested power and his mastery, is united with him,
without a doubt, by unwavering devotion.41 Thus, devotion must be accompanied with both knowledge and action.
In a true yogi one fnds a harmonious assimilation of these three paths. He
is said to be higher than the one who practices tapas, who has knowledge, and
who performs action in the true spirit. “Such a yogi is called integrated ( yukta)
to whom clods of earth, stones, gold are the same.”42 He personifes samatvam;
he is free from ignorance, self-conceit, desire, anger, and rebirth; he does not
grieve, he does not desire, and becomes one with the supreme.43 With that
sameness, a yogi attains joy, peace, and unity of vision, i.e., he sees the sameself abiding in all beings and all beings in the self.44 In short, the practice of
karma yoga, in the long run, involves knowledge and bhakti, just as the practice
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of jñ āna yoga also involves the practice of selfess action and the whole-hearted
devotion. Likewise, a true and dedicated devotee needs to perform selfess
action and eventually to know the brahman; the three paths come together.
Irrespective of the discipline ( yoga) one uses as a starting point consistent
with his own nature, the goal is to become disciplined, which is having sameness and evenness of the mind (samatvam). It is important to remember here
that in the G īt ā, the goal and whatever means is used to attain that goal form
a continuum, signifying the interdependence of the goal and its means. This
interdependence, as shown above, is found in the disciplines of action, knowledge, and devotion. Thus, it is not surprising that K ṛṣṇa repeatedly affrms
the importance of yoga: Arjuna is asked to be “yogasthaḥ,” i.e., fxed or established in the intellect,45 and “buddhi yukto,” i.e., yoked or exercised through
the intellect,46 etc., in order to do his duty skillfully—and this skill has been
articulated as samatvam.
In summary, the G īt ā does not speak of three mutually exclusive paths
to spiritual freedom, one may begin with any of these paths; however, the
path that leads to the attainment of mok ṣa includes actions without any desire for the results of the actions for the agent, knowledge of the distinction
between the lower and the higher self, and the single-minded devotion to
the higher self.
Though the path with which one starts one’s journey depends upon one’s
psychological make-up (in Arjuna’s case, it is karma yoga), the aspirant must
go through the other two before reaching the goal. Śr ī Aurobindo, a contemporary Vedāntin, calls the integration of these seemingly different paths
“the Integral Yoga.” The three paths are unifed based on the conception of
highest reality as the highest brahman or the highest puru ṣa (puru ṣottama) which
the G īt ā develops. In this conception, Sāṃ khya and Vedānta are unifed. The
Sāṃ khya, as is well known, admits two principles: Puru ṣa and prak ṛti. The
puru ṣas are many, i.e., these are many individual selves; prak ṛti is one.
The Vedānta recognizes the highest Being to be brahman or pure consciousness
and synthesizes these two ancient philosophies. The unity of the G īt ā may be
represented by the fgure given below.
Puru˜ottama (the highest self)
Prak˛ti as nature
consisting of three
gu˝as (k˜etra)
Brahman as one
being (k˜etrajña)
Many finite selves as
changing selves
(k˜ara)
Pure self as
unchanging self
(ak˜ara)
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T H E B H AG AVA D G Ī TĀ
It is unfortunate that commentators emphasize one path at the expense of
the other two. Tilak and Gandhi, for example, emphasized the path of action.
Śa ṃ kara emphasized the path of knowledge at the expense of the other two,
while such theistic commentators as the modern-day Prabhupapda emphasizes the path of devotion. K ṛṣṇa’s actual sayings are ambiguous. He at times
praises the path of action, at other times the path of knowledge, and still other
times the path of devotion. In the long run however, K ṛṣṇa draws attention to
their interdependence, although depending on the aptitudes and the abilities
of the aspirant, one may begin either as a person of action like Arjuna, or as
a metaphysical thinker, or as a religious devotee; however, whichever path
one suits to begin with, if the G īt ā’s argument is correct, the other two would
show up along the way, all leading to the same goal. The context of K ṛṣṇa’s
discourse, which is that of the battlefeld, and the nature of the particular
pupil with whom he chooses to discourse, a warrior by profession is neither
a philosopher nor an individual given to religious sentimentality, necessitate
that an initial privilege is soon counterbalanced by a large metaphysical discourse incorporating both Sāṃ khya and Vedānta, and a religious discourse at
whose center lies the idea of devotion to a personal deity, viz., K ṛṣṇa himself.
Thus, ethics, metaphysics, and religion are brought together.
VI Concluding Reflections
In conclusion, a comparison with Kant is almost inevitable. The above analysis of the conception of duty in the G īt ā leaves no doubt whatsoever that it
affords duty an important place. The notion of duty as the right course of
action is repeated throughout the text. In recent years, many comparative
studies on the G īt ā have appeared, making the G īt ā a gospel of duty, or
consequentialism, or both. So, rather than making the G īt ā a duty ethics
or a consequentialist treatise, in this section, I will do something different.
In modern Western philosophy, no other philosopher than Kant has tried
to tie the three, viz., ethics, metaphysics, and religion together, and at the
same time has tried to keep them apart. In this section, I will make a few
comparative remarks in light of the G īt ā’s ethical, metaphysical, and religious arguments.
Simply as a moral theory, the G īt ā’s idea of non-attached actions, performance of one’s duty without considering its likely consequences for the doer, almost resonates Kantian account of duty for duty’s sake. However, the Kantian
account is embedded in a rationalism, in a theory of reason, which is hard to
fnd in the G īt ā. To be precise, a theory that the source of the moral law is the
pure practical reason deeply installed within every human being is lacking in
the G īt ā. The lawgiver for Kant is not an authority outside of the human heart;
it is none other than the human reason itself. In the G īt ā, K ṛṣṇa who identifes
himself as a human incarnation of the brahman-ātman never suggests that he
is the lawgiver. Also, reason as a grand faculty with its theoretical-practical
divide is not available in the G īt ā. The moral laws in the Hindu tradition are
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given neither by god nor by reason, but by, and announced in, the heard texts
whose origins are timeless.
Again, Kant does something, which the G īt ā does not. Any ethical philosophy must confront the question: What is the standard of morality? How
does one recognize, i.e., by what criterion, an “ought” to be a true ethical
imperative? Kant directly confronts this question and answers it in terms of
his principle of the universalizability without contradiction.47 The G īt ā does
not offer any such formal principle of duty; it simply provides a principle not
concerning the content of duty (what ought I to do? what is my duty?), but an
answer to the question how, in what spirit, one needs to do one’s duty, so that
one progresses toward mok ṣa. The content of morality is gathered from the
tradition; it is not identifed by the principles of rationality.
How do Kant and the G īt ā ground ethics in metaphysics? Or do they? The
Kantian moral principles being a priori are free from the power of natural
inclinations, thus setting up, or rather conforming to, an already available
opposition between the spirit and the nature in the form of the opposition
between reason as pure practical will and nature as interests and inclinations.
One may ask: Is this opposition not a restatement of the Sāṃ khya opposition
between puru ṣa and prak ṛti? The Sāṃ khya places, and so does K ṛṣṇa, buddhi (the only human faculty, which one can claim to be an equivalent of the
reason of the rationalists) not in the heart of puru ṣa but as an evolutionary
product of prak ṛti. But, does not Kant also do the same at other places when he
asks what is the purpose of prak ṛti in making reason the highest faculty of the
humans? Kant, in the true Christian spirit, sees the struggle between inclinations and reason as an almost unending progression, so that the human pure
will never reaches the level of the Holy Will, requiring him to see the need
for other lives in the pursuit of that moral ideal, whereas the G īt ā originating
at the other end in a tradition that believes in rebirth moves to the possibility
of achieving moral perfection here on earth, in this life. But Kant gives us
something which seems to solve the problem mentioned earlier, viz., how can
the pure self be a disinterested agent when it is not an agent at all? I suggest
that we need a doctrine of pure will in the very heart of puru ṣa (a Kantian
expectation that the self in its metaphysical essence is pure willing), and not
merely a pure spectator.
From metaphysics, let me quickly move on to religion. Kant, though making morality autonomous, brought in God by the back door. On the one hand,
he made the moral law the essence of religion within the bounds of reason;
on the other hand, he brought in God to allocate rewards to morality conjoining synthetically, morality with happiness.48 The G īt ā does not promise
any such conjunction. Recall that in the epic Mah ābāhrata, to which the G īt ā
belongs, even K ṛṣṇa suffers for his own actions, so that no one, not even God,
can escape the power of the law of karma. The G īt ā introduces religion more
directly and not by the back door. The practice of dharma, with the purpose of
going to heaven, brings one back to rebirth within the clutches of the law of
karma. One needs to practice dharma with non-attachment to the consequences
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T H E B H AG AVA D G Ī TĀ
if one wishes to attain mok ṣa, but that non-attachment is more readily possible
by cultivating a religious attitude in the spirit of self-surrender to the will of
God. This kind of religious grounding of morality is lacking within Kantian
rationalism.
Thus, if one has his Kantian prejudices in moral philosophy, they help him
identify some Kantian concepts in the texts, and, at the same time, make
him realize how these concepts are embedded in a very different intellectual
tradition. Eventually, in the end, the conception of the reason of the Enlightenment of Europe comes to contrast a conception of tradition in the guise of a
long and hoary textual tradition, dharma śāstra, as the guarantor of dharma into
whose density reason cannot penetrate.
Study Questions
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
What is yoga?
What are the duties of a person belonging to the warrior var ṇa?
Describe the setting in which the G īt ā was composed?
Discuss the distinction between pravṛtti and nivṛtti?
“Removing all attachments to the fruits of action, ever content,
independent—such a person even if engaged in action, does not do anything whatever” (Git ā, IV.20).
a.
b.
Explain the meaning and signifcance of the above passage.
Do you think that the doctrine of karma yoga has any relevance for the
culture you live in today? If it does, discuss some of the strongest objections to the doctrine and why they do not constitute good reasons
for rejecting the doctrine. If it does not, discuss some of the strongest
reasons for accepting the doctrine and why they do not constitute
good reasons for the acceptance of the doctrine.
6. Explain the paths of knowledge and the path of devotion discussed in the
G īt ā.
7. Examine the concept of “lokasa ṃgraha.” Is lokasa ṃgraha an altruistic act? Is
it a benevolent act? An egoistic act? Give reasons for your answer.
8. Discuss the relationship among the paths of karma yoga (path of action),
bhakti yoga (path of devotion), and jñ āna yoga (path of knowledge) in the
Gita. Do these paths contradict one another, or is there a way in which the
three can be synthesized? Give reasons for your answer.
9. Read the following sample case carefully and answers questions given
below.
Case of Donating Money to Help San
Diego Fire Victims
You have just fnished reading the Bhagavad G īt ā. In this text, when Arjuna
refuses to fght, K ṛṣṇa uses various arguments exhorting him to fght, and, in
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T H E B H AG AVA D G Ī TĀ
the process, develops a philosophy of life. Some of the arguments he advances
are given below. K ṛṣṇa says:
•
•
•
•
Arjuna belongs to the warrior caste and it is his duty to fght;
duty should be performed without any desire for the fruits (ni ṣk āma karma,
desireless action);
activity is better than inactivity; and
by doing duty without any desire, one attains the highest good, i.e., mok ṣa.
Three friends, John, Bina, and Claudio, decide to donate money to help San
Diego fre victims. John believes that it his duty to do so, but he does it because
he needs a tax break. Bina believes that duty should be performed without
any desire for the fruits (ni ṣk āma karma, “desireless action”) and she acts simply for the sake of duty. Claudio believes that it his duty to help, but he also
desires to please his fre-fghter son, which in turn gives Claudio pleasure and
self-satisfaction.
1
2
In all three cases, San Diego fre victims received help. Desire and
duty motivated John and Claudio’s actions. Bina performed her action without any desire for the fruits. In the language of the G īt ā,
Bina’s action was a desireless action (ni ṣk ā ma karma). In other words,
though duty accompanied John and Claudio’s actions, desirelessness
did not. The questions to consider are: Are their actions moral? Are
their actions, right? To put it differently, what is the criterion of morality according to the G īt ā ? What makes an action right in the Gita?
Duty or desirelessness? Would you say that according to the doctrine
of ni ṣk ā ma karma there are right actions which are not moral? What
would the G īt ā ’s response be to these questions? What is your response? Be specifc in your response and provide rational arguments
to substantiate your position.
When I examine my life, I see that there are times when I can make a
separation between the actions that I perform and the possible results
of my actions. I do X without desiring consequences that might ensue
from X. Irrespective of the motive of my action, when the dust settles,
I will get a tax break (in the above example of donating money to
fre victims). Is my action really “desireless”? Likewise, K ṛṣṇ a advises
Arjuna to fght. Fighting is an intentional act; K ṛṣṇ a is persuading
Arjuna to fght to correct a wrong, to recover the lost kingdom. He
is advised to fght without receiving any benefts, i.e., Arjuna is supposed to fght without the thought of recovering the lost kingdom.
Given the circumstances, is it possible to separate the action from the
consequences? Do you see any contradiction here? Substantiate your
position with rational arguments.
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T H E B H AG AVA D G Ī TĀ
Suggested Readings
For an easily readable translation, see Barbara Miller, The Bhagavad G īt ā
(Canada: Random House, Bantam Classics, 1986); for consequentialism
and deontology debate, see Sandeep Sreekumar, “An Analysis of Consequentialism and Deontology in the Normative Ethics of the Bhagavadg īt ā,”
Journal of Indian Philosophy, Vol. 40, 2012, pp. 277–315; S. S. Chakravarti,
“Consequentialism and the G īt ā,” Evam, Vol. 3, No. 1 & 2, 2002. http://
www.svabhinava.org/Hindu
Civilization/SitansuChakravarti/Consequentialism.pdf. For karma yoga, see Simon Brodbeck, “Calling Krsna’s
Bluff: Nonattached Action in the Bhagavadg īt ā,” Journal of Indian Philosophy,
Vol. 32, 2004, pp. 81–103. For the G īt ā as Virtue ethics, see Bina Gupta,
“Bhagavad G īt ā as Duty and Virtue Ethics: Some Refections,” The Journal of
Religious Ethics, 2006, Vol. 34, pp. 373–395. Roopen Majithia, “The Bhagavad G īt ā’s Ethical Syncretism,” Comparative Philosophy, Vol. 6, 2015, pp. 56–
79, seeks to reconcile tensions in the Indian tradition, and Robert Minor
in “The G īt ā’s Way as the Only Way,” Philosophy East and West, Vol. 30, No.
3, July 1980 articulates three paths of the G īt ā as G īt ā Yoga.
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Part VIII
MODERN INDIAN THOUGHT
16
MODER N IN DI A N THOUGHT
I Introduction
The classical philosophical systems had reached their high point by the time
British rule in India began. The Sanskrit pundits continued to instruct students
in the classical systems, and no new major innovation seemed to be in the offing. These Sanskrit scholars applied themselves to the school of Navya-Nyāya
(new logic); outstanding scholars devoted themselves to teaching and writing
about this school. However, no major works were published, though “private
papers,” known as “kroḍapatra,” continued to accumulate.1 Students used them
to defend their own positions as well as to criticize those of their opponents.
Lineage of such students traced back their ancestry to great pundits, and it is
diffcult to ascertain with accuracy which, if any, philosophical innovations
were achieved.
In the nineteenth century, with the spread of English education, scholars
well versed in Western philosophy and the English language appeared on the
Indian philosophical scene. Some of these scholars learned Sanskrit and read
original Sanskrit texts of the classical past, but still wrote in English, comparing Indian philosophies to Western philosophies. As a result, a discipline
called “comparative philosophy” was born.
The political, social, and economic effects of the British rule on India were
profound. Tension between the forces of tradition—through which the Indian
culture had grown—and the forces of modernity had increased. The Hindu
intellectuals found themselves in an ambiguous situation; there was an awareness of the sense of responsibility to its own culture as well as a sense of distance from it. They studied, absorbed, and understood the Western social
and political concepts, and seized this opportunity to demonstrate that Indian
philosophy is as great as any other philosophies.
As a result, there arose a wide spectrum of social reformers, philosophers,
political leaders, religious innovators, and cultural critics, e.g., Vivekananda,
Raja Ram Mohan Roy, Aurobindo, Tilak, K. C. Bhattacharyya (KCB),
Tagore, Seal, Halder, and Gandhi. Some of these fgures were not professional
philosophers, but they were educated, literate, and action-oriented public fgures, and their ideas were of great signifcance even for academic philosophy.
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MODERN INDIA N THOUGHT
The fact that Tagore, a poet and a non-academic fgure, was elected to be the
President of the frst Indian Philosophical Congress in 1925 testifes to the
importance and impact of these individuals in India.
In this chapter, it is not possible to discuss all these individuals and their
contributions. I will focus only on two important individuals of the preindependence era: KCB and Śr ī Aurobindo; the latter, like KCB, was not a
professional philosopher, but both individuals infuenced the modern minds
at many different levels and in many ways. They brought to the forefront
the fact that modern Hindu intelligentsia, while professing loyalty to its own
tradition, transformed the Hindu tradition—perhaps, partly under the infuence of Western thinking and partly to meet social and political challenges
of the day. These individuals re-read, re-understood, and re-interpreted the
Vedānta school, and infuenced not only the philosophical but also the religious, political, and social thinking of Hindu minds. Thus, it is safe to say that
Vedanta, especially Advaita Vedānta, has played an important role in the
self-understanding of the modern Hindu intelligentsia.
K. C. Bhattacharyya (KCB)
It is not an exaggeration to say that KCB is one of the leading contemporary Indian philosophers. Though all of KCB’s published works are contained
in two volumes of Studies in Philosophy,2 one can say that the pages of these
two volumes are flled with the original ideas on many topics spanning the
entire range of Indian and Western philosophy. KCB had carefully studied
ancient Indian philosophical schools, e.g., Advaita Vedānta, Sāṃ khya-Yoga,
and Jainism. He was also well versed in classical German philosophies, especially of Kant and Hegel. In his philosophy, one fnds an assimilation of both
Eastern and Western philosophies. The goal of his philosophy was neither
to espouse a specifc philosophical perspective nor to provide a defense of a
particular darśana of Indian philosophy. One marvels at his understanding
of philosophers Indian and Western alike, as well as at the originality of his
thought-provoking ideas.
Kalidas Bhattacharyya,3 the youngest son of KCB, divides his father’s philosophy into three phases. The frst stage extends from 1914 to 1918, during
which he published three papers: “Some Aspects of Negation,” “The Place of
the Indefnite in Logic,” and “The Defnition of Relation as a Category of Existence.”4 The second extends from 1925 to 1934,5 during which he published
fve papers titled “Śa ṃ kara’s Doctrine of Māyā,” “Knowledge and Truth,”
“Correction of Error as a Logical Process,” “Fact and the Thought of the
Fact,” and “The False and the Subjective,” and his monograph entitled The
Subject as Freedom. The third, the shortest of the three stages, lasted a little more
than a year (1939), during which he published three papers: “The Concept of
Philosophy,” “The Absolute and its Alternative Forms,” and “The Concept
of Value.”6
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MODERN INDIA N THOUGHT
In this brief chapter on KCB’s philosophy, it is not possible to do justice
to all the issues that his philosophy raises. I will focus on the concept of the
“absolute” in KCB’s philosophy. Limiting this chapter to the concept of the
absolute makes sense for many reasons; however, I will name only a few. KCB
discusses this concept in two of his articles, viz., “The Concept of Philosophy”
and “The Absolute and its Alternative Forms.” These articles appeared in
the third and the fnal phase, the richest and the most profound phase of his
writings; they refect the culmination of his philosophical thinking. Second,
KCB’s concept of the three absolutes is strikingly original; it is a unique contribution to the philosophical thought the world over. Third, the search for
the absolute has been the primary concern of Indian philosophy from the
Upaniṣads (600–300 BCE) to the neo-Vedānta of the twentieth century via
the classical Vedānta of Śa ṃ kara and R āmānuja. By focusing on this concept,
we would get a better understanding of the development of the concept of “absolute” in the entire spectrum of Indian philosophy. Finally, the discussion of
this concept not only shows how KCB’s philosophy fts into Indian philosophy
historically but also demonstrates the progress of his philosophy through three
phases insofar as KCB discusses the absolute as “indefnite” (the frst phase),
as “freedom” (the second phase), and as “alternation” (the third phase).
The Absolute as Indefinite
Those of us who are familiar with KCB’s philosophy know well that he was
infuenced by Jaina logic. KCB’s conception of the absolute as indefnite follows his interpretation of the Jaina theory of anek āntavāda. In his article, “The
Jaina Theory of Anek ānta,” KCB shows that neither the category of “identity”
nor of “difference” is basic to philosophy, and that the alternation of the two is
more satisfactory. At the outset, KCB informs his readers, “The Jaina theory
of anek ānta or the manifoldness of truth is a form of realism which not only
asserts a plurality of truths but also takes each truth to be an indetermination
of alternative truths.”7 He further adds that the purpose of his paper is “to
discuss the conception of a plurality of determinate truths to which ordinary
realism appears to be committed and to show the necessity of an indeterministic extension such as is presented by the Jaina logic …”8
KCB analyzes the defnite and the indefnite, and, from the contrast between the two, deduces the seven modes of truth. To say that from one perspective a determinate existent X is, and from another perspective is not, does
not imply that X is X and it is not Y. It rather means that an existent X, as
an existent universal, is distinct from itself as a particular. Accordingly, every
mode of truth is a determinate truth as well as an indetermination of other
possibilities or alternative modes of truth. These modes of truth, argues KCB,
are not merely many truths but “alternative truths.”9 From one perspective X
is existent; from another perspective X is non-existent; however, when X is
viewed as existent and non-existent simultaneously it becomes indescribable
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(avaktavya); there exists an “undifferenced togetherness” between the two,
which KCB calls “indefnite.” Each mode of truth, as an alternative to others,
is objective.
KCB applies the above conception of the defnite and indefnite to the concept of the “brahman.” The Upaniṣads, as we know, identify a single, comprehensive, fundamental principle by knowing which everything else in this
world becomes known.10 This fundamental principle, brahman or absolute,
defes all characterizations. BU categorically asserts that there is no other or
better description of the brahman than neti, neti (“not this,” “not this”).11 In the
classical non-dualist Vedānta of Śa ṃ kara, the brahman or the absolute is that
state where all subject/object distinction is obliterated. The brahman simply
is. KCB takes for his point of departure this consciousness that transcends
both the subjective and the objective. Since this principle cannot be defned
in terms of either the objective or its correlate, i.e., the subjective, he calls it
the “indefnite.” In other words, both the subjective and the objective belong
to the realm of the defnite and that which transcends both is the indefnite.
Every defnite content of experience, holds KCB, implies an indefnite out
of which it is carved. The indefnite points to a primary distinction between the
defnite and the indefnite, the known and the unknown: “the indefnite is not
and is indefnite at once.”12 To put it differently, “the indefnite and the defnite
are and are not one.” The line between the defnite and the indefnite is itself indefnable; the defnite, being a mode of the indefnite, embodies the indefnite.
KCB does not discuss the question whether absolute exists; he rather attempts to understand it. Paradoxically, it is that which cannot be understood;
it is indefnite (not comprehensible) and defnite (somehow comprehensible)
at once. KCB was aware that this logical absolute as indefnite cannot be an
object of one’s experiences; that for it to be the basis of objects, it must be understood as the subject of our experiences. So, it is not surprising that he does
not rest satisfed with the logical absolute, and eventually takes a psychological
approach in which the absolute as indefnite is construed as the absolute as
subject or freedom.
The Absolute as Subject or Freedom
The most comprehensive statement of the absolute as freedom is analyzed
in the monograph The Subject as Freedom, which was written long before KCB
wrote the articles “The Concept of Philosophy” and “The Alternative Forms
of the Absolute.” In this work, KCB begins with an analysis of the distinction
between the object and the subject. “Object” is what is meant by the “subject”;
the “subject” is other than the object. When one knows an object, one becomes
aware of the meaning of the term “object.” Thus, the word “this” symbolizes
the object. When one uses the word “this” to signify a specifc object, others
also use “this” to denote the same particular object. Thus, the pronoun “this”
has a general meaning, and both the speaker and the hearer use it to refer to
an object. The subject, however, is not meant; it has no universally accepted
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meaning. When Bina uses “I,” she uses it to refer to Bina, but when Sonya
uses “I,” she uses it to refer to Sonya, not to Bina. The word “I,” argues KCB,
symbolizes the subject, so he prefers the word “I” to both “you” and “he.”
The distinction between these two symbols “this” and “I” throws light on
the important distinction between the subjective and the objective. The point
that KCB is trying to make is as follows: The subject is not a meant entity.
The word “this” symbolizes an object and has a generality about it. However,
the same does not characterize the word “I” which is neither singular nor
general; it is rather both singular and general. “I” takes on generality as far
as each speaker uses it though in the singular, because each speaker uses it
only for himself or herself. Thus, though the subject sometimes may be spoken
of as an object, it is not meant as an object. In other words, when the subject
is understood through the word “I,” it is not known as the meaning of the
word. It is possible to objectify the subject, but the objectifcation cannot be a
determinant of the subject. When one refers to the subject as the object, the
subject does not become the object. Moreover, the reality of what is meant can
always be doubted. In KCB’s words: “… the object is not known with the same
assurance as the subject that cannot be said to be meant. There may be such
a thing as an illusory object….”13
After articulating subjectivity as an awareness of the subject’s distinction
from the object, KCB distinguishes among the three stages of subjectivity.
In the frst stage, the self identifes itself with the body; in the second, the
self identifes with images and thoughts; and in the third, initially there is a
feeling of freedom from all actual and possible thoughts, which is followed
by an awareness of the subject as “I” in introspection, eventually leading one
beyond introspection to complete subjectivity or freedom.
The different stages of subjectivity are reached progressively: The denial
of the preceding gives rise to the succeeding stage until there is nothing left
to deny. At each stage there is an inner “demand” to go beyond that stage.
It is important to note that the introspection of the subject as the “I” is the
realization of the free nature of the subject, where one has an awareness of the
subject’s freedom. However, this awareness must be denied to make way for
complete freedom. KCB here is making an important distinction between the
“subject as free” and “subject as freedom”; the former being the introspective
stage of subjectivity, and the latter the ultimate stage, the ideal, the subject’s
ultimate goal.
In this context, one might ask why to assume this subjective attitude. Even if
we assume that it does lead to freedom, can one not make a similar case for the
objective attitude? He discusses some of these issues in his articles “The Concept
of the Absolute and Its Alternative Forms” and “The Concept of Philosophy.”
The Absolute as Alternation
At the outset of his paper on the absolute as alternation, KCB informs his
readers that philosophy begins in refective consciousness, i.e., an awareness
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of the relationship between refective consciousness and its content.14 Refective consciousness and its content imply each other, and he takes this relation
of “implicational dualism” as the starting point to discuss his concept of “alternative absolutes.”
Using the Kantian distinction between the “forms of consciousness” (which
KCB never questions), he argues that consciousness functions diversely, better
yet alternately, as knowing, willing, and feeling. The implicational dualism,
i.e., the relation between consciousness and content, is different in each case.
In knowing, the content is not constituted by consciousness; in willing, it is
constituted by consciousness; and, in feeling, the content constitutes a sort
of unity with consciousness. In each attitude, the dualism of the content and
consciousness can be overcome; consequently, each has its own formulation
of the absolute. There are three absolutes corresponding to the three forms of
consciousness: Knowing, willing, and feeling, in KCB’s words, “truth, value,
and reality (or freedom).”15 In knowing, the content is freed from consciousness and the absolute is truth. In willing, consciousness is freed from content
and the absolute is freedom. In feeling, there is a consciousness of unity and
the absolute is value. The Absolute, when freed from this trifold implicational
dualism, by its very nature is understood in a triple way. Let us examine it
further.
The Absolute as Truth
In knowing, the object of knowledge stands as independent of the act of knowing. The content is “unconstituted by consciousness.” “It may, accordingly,
be (loosely) called a known no-content. It is explicitly known as what known
content is not.”16 The act of knowing rather discovers the object. The known
content need not be known, which explains why KCB even asserts that to
know an object is to know “a timeless truth.” “The object may be temporal
but that it is in time is not itself a temporal fact.”17 So, according to KCB, the
realist’s defnition of knowledge is valid, but what is claimed to be known may
not really be known in the realist’s sense of the term.
Space limitation does not permit me to examine in detail how the process of
knowing leads to the absolute as truth, because that would necessitate an indepth study of the issues discussed in his article “The Concept of Philosophy.”
For our purposes, the following will suffce. In this article, KCB argues that
the task of philosophy is the justifcation of beliefs by a “higher kind of knowledge” which can be arrived at by analyzing speech and thinking. Speech and
thinking admit of grades. As a result, we get the grades of thought and the
grades of thinking corresponding to each other pointing to the grades of the
theoretic consciousness.18 The belief that “the absolute is” is implied in
the theoretic consciousness of “I am not.” The denial of “I” is possible because
of our belief in the absolute.
By “thought,” KCB means all forms of theoretic consciousness involving the
understanding of a speakable. Philosophy presents beliefs that are speakable;
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they are expressions of the theoretic consciousness, and, as understanding of
the speakable they consist of the four grades of thought: Empirical, contemplative or pure objective, spiritual, and transcendental. In empirical thought,
the content refers to an object perceived or imagined to be perceived. Such reference constitutes a part of the meaning of its content. Pure objective thought
involves reference to an object but not necessarily to a perceived object. Subjective or spiritual thought does not involve any reference to an object. It is
therefore purely subjective. Transcendental thought is the consciousness of a
content that is neither subjective nor objective. It refers neither to things, nor
to universals, nor to individuals, but rather to the absolute truth.
Science deals with the content of empirical thought which KCB calls “ fact.”
The other three thoughts have contents which are either self-evident, objective
contents, or truth or reality. In science, the content, according to KCB, is literally speakable. In pure objective attitude of philosophy, contents “demand” to
be known, but are not actually known. Here we get metaphysics or philosophy
of an object. The third level of thinking is the philosophy of the subject, and,
in the fourth and the fnal kind, we have the philosophy of the truth.
The distinction among the various grades of theoretic consciousness is of
utmost importance since KCB’s philosophy is concerned not with the frst but
with the last three grades of theoretic consciousness. The last three stages are,
in fact, not entirely different from each other, and, according to KCB, one
stage necessarily leads to the next. The absolute is reached through a series of
denials. Each earlier stage is negated, and each negation leads to the formation of the beliefs contained within the next higher stage.
Whereas the spiritual reality is symbolized as “I” and expressed literally
as self, truth is symbolized as “not I,” and is, therefore, not reality, not to be
enjoyed, and not literally expressible. For KCB, truth is “self-revealing, what
is true being spoken as what the speaking I is not.”19 Consequently, it is not
identical with the self as Advaita Vedānta maintains but is defnable as what
the self is not. The last stage is beyond negation since the theoretic denial of
the self in the form “I am not” leaves one remainder. What remains to make
such self-denial possible is the absolute. As an undeniable being, the absolute
is truth. The absolute does not have anything outside from which to be distinguished. Truth is the absolute, but the absolute is not the only truth. It can be
distinguished from alternative forms of itself. As undeniable being it may be
truth, or as the limit of all transcending negating processes it may be freedom,
or as their indeterminate togetherness, it may be value.
Absolute as Reality (or Freedom)
The second is the absolute of willing. In this absolute, the content is constituted by willing. Willing is active; it is constructive. In the absence of willing
this absolute is nothing; it is understood as a negation of being. Willing in fact
is willing of itself which is its denial. When a will is satisfed, it is superseded,
and, in that sense, denied.
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The process of willing, which leads to the absolute as freedom, is analyzed
in the work The Subject as Freedom, which I have already discussed. In this
work, no clear distinction has been made between the knowing and the willing, resulting in the impression that the absolute as freedom is also the absolute as truth. In “The Concept of Philosophy,” as has been explained earlier,
the pursuit moves from empirical fact to self-subsistent object, from objectivity
to subjectivity, and from subjectivity to the truth. Thus, the individual self is
transcended in favor of truth, and the absolute object is more fundamental
than facts or universals. In the work, The Subject as Freedom, the individual self
is transcended in favor of the subject, the “I,” which in turn is transcended in
favor of freedom itself.
The Absolute as Value
The third is the absolute of feeling and the matter is quite different in the case
of feeling. The beautiful object appears as beautiful in feeling, and “shines as
a self-subsistent something,” distinct from its knowable parts. In other words,
there is a unity free from the duality of content and consciousness. It is a content “that is indefinitely other than consciousness” or consciousness “that is
indefinitely other than content.” The term “indefinitely,” for KCB, signifies
that the absolute of feeling is indifferent to both being and non-being, and
accordingly, the absolute is transcendent. Value is the unity of the felt content
and its feeling. It is different from its knowable relations and its relation to its
parts. This is how KCB suggested we should understand the being of value.
Felt content, though not definite in itself, is understood “as though it were a
unity.”20 Reflection demands such a unity. The realist position that the value is
objective and the idealist position that the value is subjective are not preferable
and their alternation is stopped when the unity becomes definite. “The unity of
felt content and feeling may be understood as content that is indefinitely other
than consciousness or as consciousness that is indefinitely other than the content.”21 Value as such is unity which is the indetermination of content and consciousness and not identity. This relation defines the absolute of feeling.
Concluding Ref lections
KCB’s thesis of the triple absolutes is indeed unique, interesting, and
thought-provoking. The absolute of knowing is truth, the absolute of willing
is freedom, and the absolute of feeling is value. The triple absolute is the prototype of the three subjective functions, which are mixed in our everyday
experiences. However, each experience can be purifed of the accretions of
the other functions and can become pure or absolute. Absolute knowing is
the apprehension purged of all non-cognitive elements; it is the apprehension of the object-in-itself. Absolute willing is willing purged of all objective
elements. Absolute feeling is feeling purged of all cognitive and volitional
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elements. Each absolute is a pure experience, i.e., positively an actualization
of the unique nature of each function, and negatively, a lack of confusion
or mixture with other functions. For KCB, the absolute is the alternation of
these three functions. There are three alternative Absolutes, which cannot be
synthesized into one.
KCB’s conception of the absolutes is a corollary of his logic of alternation
that he advocates. It is a logic of choice, commitment, and co-existence. In our
everyday discourse we are presented with alternatives, and we must choose
not because one alternative is correct and the other false, but because we must
choose, and having chosen, we must abide by our choice. KCB rejects inclusive disjunction (either-or, perhaps both) and accepts exclusive disjunction
(either-or, but not both). X may be true, Y may be true; however, the conjunction of X and Y is not true. Alternation, so important in practice, is equally
important in theory. With the logic of alternation, KCB rejects philosophies
that claim that their philosophy is the only true philosophy. For him, there are
different paths that lead to different goals, and each goal, in itself, is absolute.
No absolute is superior to any other; the ways of the absolute diverge, but one
is not preferable to the other. When one is accepted, the others are automatically rejected. These are genuine alternatives. The absolute is an alternative
of truth, freedom, or value.
To sum up, KCB provides three possibilities of encountering an Absolute:
The absolute as positive being or truth, or the non-being as freedom, or “their
positive indetermination” or value. In K. C. KCB’s reading of the tradition,
the Advaita Vedānta takes the absolute as positive truth; the Buddhism of the
Mādhyamika school takes the absolute as non-being or freedom; and the Hegelian Absolute is the identity of truth and freedom or value. Thus, there are
three irreducible Absolutes.22
It would be interesting to compare the three Absolutes as they are presented
in “The Concept of Philosophy” (CP) with the three Absolutes of “The Concept of the Absolute and Its Alternate Forms” (AAF).
CP
AAF
Knowledge
Advaita being
Truth
Willing
Feeling
Mādhyamika non-being
Hegelian synthesis
Freedom
Value
It is strange that KCB reads Hegelian absolute as value. In his interpretation
of the Hegelian absolute as value, KCB seems to misconstrue Hegel for whom
the science of the absolute is logic.
Before concluding this section, I would raise some questions about three
crucial concepts found in KCB writings in the hope that these questions might
provide impetus for further research and dialogue on these important concepts, viz., “demand,” “denial,” and “alternation.”23
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1
2
3
The concept of “demand” frequently appears in KCB’s writings. He informs his readers that philosophy begins in refective consciousness in
which there exists a distinction between content and consciousness, and a
“demand” for the “supra-refective consciousness,” i.e., a consciousness in
which the distinction between the content and the consciousness is clearly
visible. One wonders what this demand is. What kind of a consciousness
is it? Is this consciousness not conscious of either a known or a willed or a
felt content?
KCB speaks of the grades of thought and the corresponding grades of
speakables and argues that the ascent from the lower to the higher, from
the less perfect to the more perfect, is possible because it is possible to
deny the lower. Each ascent is based on a series of denials. For example,
objects are denied because of our belief in the subject, and the denial of
the subject or the self is possible because of our belief in the absolute. All
of us would agree that the denial of facts is possible; however, only particular facts can be denied. One fact may be denied in favor of another,
yet how does one deny all facts? The ascent to the fnal stage is diffcult to grasp in the absence of some philosophical position, e.g., Advaita
Vedānta. I can possibly deny my ego only if I concede the reality of a
non-subjective awareness that provides the basis for such a denial.
How does one move from one attitude of thought to the other? KCB explains the mutual relation between truth, freedom, and value as alternation. He uses the term “reality” to mean “freedom” and concludes his
discussion of the alternative absolutes in the following words:
… it appears to be meaningless to speak of truth as a value, of value
as real, or of reality as true while we can signifcantly speak of value
as not false, of reality as not valueless and of truth as not unreal,
although we cannot positively assert value to be truth, reality to be
value and truth to be reality. Each of them is absolute and they cannot be spoken of as one or many. In one direction their identity and
difference are alike meaningless and in another direction their identity is intelligible though not assertable. Truth is unrelated to value,
value to reality and reality to truth, while value may be truth, reality
value and truth reality. The absolute may be regarded in this sense
as an alternation of truth, value, and reality.24
In what sense is KCB using the concept of alternation? He informs his readers
that truth, freedom, and value are not simply alternative descriptions of the
Absolute. Is it simply epistemic? It does not appear to be so. Is alternation
constitutive of the Absolute? If so, is it whether the absolute is one or triple? It
is not clear how the absolute, though of the alternative nature in the sense of
“either-or,” can at the same time remain as the Absolute.
These questions notwithstanding, KCB’s conception of “alternation” is
unique; it is an original contribution to philosophy. He has made a genuine attempt to show that absolutism is not incompatible with pluralism. His
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philosophy goes a long way toward removing the popular Western misconception that Indian philosophy is only mystical, intuitive, and practical.
II Śrī Aurobindo
In the concluding paragraph of his magnum opus, The Life Divine, Śr ī
Aurobindo presents his spiritual vision in the following words:
If there is an evolution in material Nature and if it is an evolution of
being with consciousness and life as its two key-terms and powers,
this fullness of being, fullness of consciousness, fullness of life must
be the goal of development towards which we are tending and which
will manifest at an early or later stage of our destiny. The self, the
spirit, the reality that is disclosing itself out of the frst inconscience
of life and matter, would evolve its complete truth of being and consciousness in that life and matter. It would return to itself—or, if its
end as an individual is to return into its Absolute, it could make that
return also, —not through a frustration of life but through a spiritual
completeness of itself in life.25
Though the above quotation begins with a hypothetical, the preceding 946
pages of The Life Divine seek to demonstrate that the claims made in the above
paragraph are indeed true.
Śr ī Aurobindo’s philosophy, taken as a whole, is Vedā ntic. Śr ī Aurobindo,
drawing on the resources of the Vedas and the Upaniṣadic texts, asserts that
the ultimate reality is brahman; it is existence-consciousness-bliss. An important part of this metaphysics is the account of evolution that he provides in his
Life Divine. When compared to Western thought, evolution has not played a
signifcant role in Indian thought, though its traces are found in the Vedas and
the Upaniṣads; it, however, occurs more systematically in the Sāṃ khya system.
Śr ī Aurobindo gave evolution the place it was due. Indeed, Śr ī Aurobindo’s
theory of evolution is key to understanding his entire philosophy. The goal of
his theory of evolution is to show that the evolutionary structure of the world
process is due to the creative force inherent in the reality.
Aurobindo rejects Śa ṃ kara’s m āyāvāda, i.e., the falsity of the world, and
develops a metaphysical position called “Integral Advaita.” The world and
the fnite individuals are not false, but they rather are manifestations of the
brahman and are real. The brahman is both transcendent and immanent in the
world, and fnite individuals are self-manifestations of the brahman by its own
infnite creative energy. He subscribes to a theory of emergent evolution in
which evolution presupposes a prior involution. Matter, argues Aurobindo,
develops through the stages of life, mind, and many other levels of consciousness just because the spirit had descended into matter and remained in it potentially. This is a form of the classical satk āryavāda (the effect pre-exists in the
material cause), which allows for the emergence of new qualitative changes.
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Any evolutionary philosophy must confront the following questions.
1
2
3
“Evolution” is a word which usually assumes the phenomena without explaining them. How to explain them?
Can reality augment itself?
What is the relation between evolution and the Absolute?
• Is absolutism consistent with change?
• Even if it is, is it consistent with the ordered and the progressive change?
• Progress implies new creation: Does that imply that there is some want
in the Absolute?
• Does the absolute itself evolve? Or, alternately, does it contain evolution within itself?
There is no doubt that Śr ī Aurobindo was aware of most, possibly all, of these
questions, and formulates both his conception of the absolute spirit and the
theory of evolution accordingly.
In this chapter my discussion will revolve around the following question: Is
a doctrine of evolution consistent with the thesis that the brahman alone is real?
There are such philosophers as Whitehead and Charles Hartshorne who hold
that God evolves, progressively becomes more perfect, as he was less perfect in
the beginning. Śrī Aurobindo being a Vedāntin would not subscribe to such
a thesis. The brahman is perfect, yet it goes through the evolutionary process.
Why, and how? Can Aurobindo’s position—the brahman though one becomes
many—be justifed from a philosophical standpoint? To answer these questions
meaningfully, I will frst lay down an exposition of his metaphysical position.
Aurobindo’s Conception of the Absolute
In the very opening chapter of The Life Divine, Śr ī Aurobindo reveals the task
of his philosophy as well as the unique character of his own spiritual experience. He notes that “all problems of existence are essentially problems of harmony.”26 The title of this chapter, “The Human Aspiration,” clearly informs
us that Aurobindo perceived humanity as a phase of evolution attempting to
seek harmony within itself and in its relation to other levels of existence. He
concedes that the history of Eastern and Western philosophy testifes to the
diffculties entailed in realizing such a harmony, though the interpretations of
disharmony vary in the East and the West. He refers to this disharmony as
“the refusal of the ascetic” and “the denial of the materialist,” and identifes
the ascetic with the spiritualist who takes the matter to be illusory and the
materialist with the one who takes the spirit to be illusory. He argues that both
positions are extreme and one-sided.
Throughout his writings, Śr ī Aurobindo provides a variety of reasons to
demonstrate that both matter and spirit are equally real, because matter is
also brahman: Both are real constituents of saccid ānanda, the divine reality.
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The conception of matter and spirit as equally real goes a long way toward
explaining Śr ī Aurobindo’s conception of the world. “If One is pre-eminently
real, ‘the others,’ the Many are not unreal.”27 The world is neither a fgment
of one’s mind nor a deceptive play of m āyā. Śr ī Aurobindo’s realistic streak
would not allow him to surrender the reality of the world to the deceptive
play of m āyā, the theory accepted by Śa ṃ kara. Not unlike many of the older
critics of Śa ṃ kara, Śr ī Aurobindo asks: Is the m āyā real or “unreal”? If it is
real, there is a dualism between the brahman and m āyā. If it is an appearance,
then we may ask: What is the nature of this apparent reality? Who perceives
m āyā? If it is the brahman, there is an obvious absurdity. If it is the jīva, we ask,
isn’t jīva itself “unreal” and due to m āyā, in which case we would have an infnite regress? For Aurobindo, “m āyā” means nothing more than the freedom
of the brahman from the circumstances through which he expresses himself.
Māyā is “not a blunder and a fall, but a purposeful descent, not a curse, but a
divine opportunity.”28 Saccid ānanda, as an infnite being, consciousness, and
bliss, creates the universe, and unfolds itself into many. Spirit’s involvement in
the matter, its manifestation in the grades of consciousness is the signifcance
of evolution. Evolution is the unfolding of consciousness in matter until the
former becomes explicit, open, and perceptible. And, the act of transformation from the matter to the spirit is the reverse of involution—it is reunion, an
evolution. Let me elaborate it further.
The Nature of Creation: Involution and Evolution
As energy, consciousness is not merely self-manifesting, but is capable of
self-contraction and self-expansion, descent and ascent. Accordingly, in his
theory of involution/evolution, Aurobindo argues that nature evolves on
several levels because the brahman (saccid ānanda: Sat or existent being, cit or
consciousness-force, and ānanda or bliss) has already involved itself at each
level. From a logical perspective, prior to evolution there is involution through
which the brahman seeks its own manifestation in the multilevel world. The
order of involution is as follows:
Existence
Consciousness-force
Bliss
Supermind
Mind
Psyche
Life
Mind
After plunging into the farthest limit, i.e., the lowest form, consciousness turns
around to climb the steps it had descended earlier. Evolution, the inverse of
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involution, is a conscious movement. Thus, evolution presupposes involution;
in fact, evolution is possible because involution has already occurred. Thus,
the order of the evolutionary process is as follows:
Matter
Life
Psyche
Mind
Supermind
Bliss
Consciousness-Force
Existence
The frst four in the order of evolution constitute the lower hemisphere and
the last four the upper hemisphere. Evolution from the lower to the higher,
i.e., from matter to spirit, is possible because each level contains within it the
potentiality to attain a higher status.
The uniqueness of Śr ī Aurobindo’s theory of evolution lies in its triple processes of widening, heightening, and integration. Widening signifes extension of scope (incorporation of co-existent forms and the development and
growth toward higher forms); heightening leads to the ascent from the lower
to the higher grade; and integration means that the ascent from the lower
to the higher is not simply the rejection of the lower but rather the transformation of the lower to the higher. In other words, when life emerges out of
matter, it signifes not only an ascent to a higher grade but also a transformation of matter. The same characterizes the next two, i.e., the psyche and
the mind. Thus, the life, psyche, and mind modify matter, and, in turn, are
modifed by it.
This, however, is not enough, because mind is essentially characterized by
ignorance and error. Aurobindo was aware that fnite intellect has its limits and so it is not able to grasp the integral view of reality. In Aurobindo’s
words, “The intellect is incapable of knowing the supreme truth, it can only
range about seeking for truth, and catching fragmentary representations of
it, not the thing itself.”29 Additionally, mind, for Aurobindo, “is not a faculty of knowledge…it is a faculty for the seeking of knowledge … [it] is that
which does not know, which tries to know and never knows except as in a glass
darkly.”30 A creative consciousness is needed which is able to see unity as well
as diversity, and is able to apprehend all relations in their totality. He terms
this power of divine creative consciousness the “Supermind.” Thus, mind is
only a transitional term which points beyond itself to its perfection, its destiny,
the Supermind, which, in Aurobindo’s words, is “a power of Conscious-Force
expressive of real being, born out of real being, and partaking of its nature
and neither a child of the Void nor a weaver of fctions. It is conscious Reality
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throwing itself into mutable forms of its own imperishable and immutable
substance.”31
It is culmination or the consummation of mind.
The difference between the Supermind and the mind is the difference in
their way of looking at reality. The Supermind has an integral outlook; it
achieves a unitary picture of reality, but the mind by its very nature has a
piecemeal picture. The Supermind is the link that connects the two horizons,
the lower and the higher. Without the instrumentality of the Supermind, there
would be neither the descent of the supramental consciousness into the mind
nor the ascent to the supramental consciousness.
There is continuity of growth between the mind and the Supermind as we
pass through different levels of consciousness. Aurobindo refers to these levels
using such terms as the “higher mind,” the “illumined mind,” the “intuition,”
and the “overmind.” A Western reader is at a loss in his attempt to understand
this kind of speculation. It is diffcult for him to agree with Aurobindo that
the crisis of modern civilization reveals an essential weakness in the power of
the human mind which can only be resolved by the emergence of something
higher. Aurobindo gives us a truly teleological approach to the understanding
of the nature of mind.
The ascent to the Supermind is achieved through a triple transformation:
The psychic, the spiritual, and the supramental. The psychic change is the
removal of the veil which hides our psyche or soul; the spiritual change gives
us an abiding sense of the infnite, the experience of the true nature of the
self, the Īśvara, and the divine; and the supramental transformation signifes
a transformation into knowledge and the emergence of gnostic being, a divinized spirit, a perfect individual who personifes integration within and
without. It views everything from the perspective of the saccid ānanda and
follows the command of the will of the spirit in which the laws of freedom
replace the empirical laws. It does not amount to rejecting the world, but
rather recognizing that matter is also brahman. It is a full life—a life of perfect
freedom. The gnostic being is the return of the spirit to itself; it is the summit
of evolution.
Thus, the spirit is not only the source of creation but also the fnal end
of realization. A divine perfection of the human being is Aurobindo’s aim.
Aurobindo articulates spiritual experience in terms of an evolution of individual in relation to the absolute being, the brahman. It is at once an experience
of the spiritual reality in itself, and as it manifests itself in the creative it becomes manifested in the universe. An individual contains within himself various powers of consciousness that are capable of an unlimited awareness and
knowledge. These higher powers of consciousness must emerge, develop, and
reach completion through an individual’s mental, vital, and physical being
for the spiritual evolution to be fulflled. Descent is a necessary condition of
evolution. It is an original force in the universe. In fact, ascent and integration
are possible because of the descent of the consciousness.
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Concluding Ref lections
From the One to the One via the Many
Śr ī Aurobindo made no secret of the fact that he is the frst and the foremost
a Vedāntin; thus, it is not surprising that he made the One being, the starting
point of the origin, nature, and the end of the universe. For a Vedāntin the
problem of the One and the Many is not, as for a scholastic philosopher, how
to relate the two in an intelligible fashion, but rather how to make the Many
appear out of the One. Aurobindo, on the one hand, maintains that the being
or the brahman is pure existence, eternal, indefnable, and, on the other hand,
attributes becoming to it. Can we rationally attribute becoming to being while
maintaining that it is pure existence, etc.? Is Śr ī Aurobindo’s thesis plausible
from a philosophical standpoint?
Śr ī Aurobindo attempts to reconcile the two by affrming that the Many
pre-exists in the One and makes the becoming the inherent power of the One.
The One and the Many co-exist eternally. In response to the questions “why
does the world arise?” and “why evolution?” Śr ī Aurobindo holds that creation
is the sportive activity of the brahman. The brahman is self-suffcient; he does not
create the world out of any desire or lack. The world for Śr ī Aurobindo is in
a perpetual movement; it is the result of the delight of the brahman. Śr ī Aurobindo identifes the brahman with delight.
To substantiate his metaphysics, Śr ī Aurobindo reinterprets the Śa ṃ kara’s
concepts of līl ā and m āyā and establishes a positive relationship between his
spiritual experience and metaphysics. He explains līl ā on the model of the rare
moments of human life when one experience joy at its maximum; each person
must discover the joy of delight in one’s own creation and self-manifestation.
The Advaitic account eventually comes to terms with the utter inexplicability of individuation by coming to regard the many as but a product of avidyā,
ignorance. The Many is the līl ā, i.e., the sport of the One; in saying this, the
Advaitins emphasize that the One could not have any purpose in creating the
Many. Thus, by excluding all elements of purpose from the question about
the Many, the question may be modifed to become an interrogation into the
“how” of the Many, rather than the “why” of the Many. The One in Advaita
does not give its being to the Many; it is that which is there in the Many, indivisible and yet as if divided. Thus, the Advaitin has no choice but to conclude
that the One is the only reality, and the Many is a false appearance of the
One. The One and the Many belong to two different levels which are ultimately incommensurable.
With his concept of “delight,” Śr ī Aurobindo provides a response to the Advaita conception that the world is m āyā or simply an appearance. The world,
for Śr ī Aurobindo, is not an appearance but rather a manifestation of creative
energy, the play, the joy of the brahman; it is real. The play begins with the
involution, i.e., when the divine plunges into matter, inconscience, etc., and it
continues in evolution until the mind evolves into Supermind. Thus, the entire theory of evolution falls into the general theory of the delight of brahman;
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it is there “only for the delight of the unfolding, the progressive execution,
the objectless seried self-revelation.”32 This, in short, is the scheme and the
direction of the play.
Śr ī Aurobindo recognizes three aspects of the divine: The transcendental,
the cosmic, and the individual. The transcendent aspect means that though
the divine permeates the world, it is not exhausted by the world; the cosmic
aspect signifes the reality of the world because it is the self-manifestation of
the brahman; and the individual aspect is the awareness of ānanda in each individual. By emphasizing these three aspects individually and collectively, Śr ī
Aurobindo offers a solution to the problem of being and becoming, the One
and the Many. In Śr ī Aurobindo words:
It can be said of it that it would not be the infnite Oneness if it were
not capable of an infnite multiplicity; but that does not mean that
the One is plural or can be limited or described as the sum of the
Many: on the contrary, it can be the infnite Many because it exceeds
all limitation or description by multiplicity and exceeds at the same
time all limitation by fnite conceptual oneness.33
He was well aware that the fnite makes an opposition between the Infnite
and the fnite and associates fniteness with the plurality and infnity with oneness; but in the logic of the Infnite there is no such opposition and the eternity
of the Many in the One is a thing that is perfectly natural and possible.
The absolute, the unconditioned, infnite spirit, the pure unity of being is
also the creative energy which is the source of the conditioned many. There
are two poises of the brahman, which Aurobindo compares to the “two poises of
being,” “like the stillness of reservoir and the coursing of the channels which
fow from it.”34 He observes:
When we perceive Its deployment of the conscious energy of Its being
in the universal action, we speak of It as the mobile active Brahman;
when we perceive Its simultaneous reservation of the conscious energy of its being, kept from the action, we speak of it as the immobile
passive Brahman,—Saguna and Nirguna….35
Thus, the reality of the world is the result of the creative or dynamic aspect of
the brahman. The delight functions not only on the level of the divine, but also
in the physical world as far as the brahman in itself is pure ānanda or bliss, and
it also bestows bliss on those who become united with it. Thus, with the help
of the concept of “delight,” Śr ī Aurobindo explains the relationship that exists
between the human and the divine creativity.
All creation, holds Śr ī Aurobindo, is self-manifestation out of delight and
by the cit-śakti or the inherent conscious force, and the goal of evolution is
the emergence of the superman, i.e., a form of conscious being who is superior to the human in all respects. It is with the emergence of human that the
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evolutionary process fnds its true goal. Up until this time, it seemed as though
the emergence of any form of being—inorganic or organic—was determined
by the initial, given conditions. But now human being is able consciously to
guide the evolutionary process, there is a reversal of natural evolution. Human
beings can entertain a goal and consciously pursue it. The individual, besides
the transcendental and the universal, now becomes the means of evolutionary
change. Here Śr ī Aurobindo’s conception of yoga makes an appearance. Yoga
becomes the process by which the individual brings about the transformation
of the universal. Integral emergence becomes the goal of evolution.
Two processes go on simultaneously: The evolution of the outward nature
and the evolution of the inner being. It is only through this double evolution
that comprehensive change is possible. The evolution of nature becomes the
evolution of consciousness. Instead of a mechanical gradual and rigid process,
evolution becomes conscious, supple, fexible, and constantly dramatic, leading to the evolution of the spiritual man.
Śr ī Aurobindo became widely known for providing an account of evolution
which explains what evolution has been as well as predicting where it is heading toward. The last is the emergence of a higher form of consciousness, the
supramental consciousness, in the human body. A human being is destined to
grow into a superman. This is both the nisus of the evolutionary process and
the goal of human spirituality.
Thus, in his writings, Aurobindo attempts to preserve not only the
Upaniṣadic thesis of the unity of the brahman but also the reality of the world.
Whereas his Vedāntic predecessors, e.g., Śa ṃ kara and R āmānuja, tried to
exclude subordinate One and Many, Aurobindo placed the many and the
becoming in the very heart of the brahman, the Absolute. One, for him, was
the basis as well as the source of the Many, basis not in the sense of simply
being the support of the Many, but rather in the sense of being the essence of
the Many.
Study Questions
1. Discuss KCB’s concepts of “demand,” “denial,” and “alternation.” Discuss the signifcance of these concepts for his philosophy.
2. Discuss KCB’s alternative absolutes. According to him truth, freedom,
and value are not simply alternative descriptions of the Absolute. Is his
concept of “alternation” epistemic? Is it constitutive of the Absolute? If so,
does it make sense to talk of triple absolutes?
3. Comment on the following:
“The absolute for KCB, though of the alternative nature in the sense of
‘either-or,’ can at the same time remain as the Absolute.” Include in your
answer a discussion of the KCB’s Absolute as Truth, Freedom, and Value.
4. Critically discuss Śr ī Aurobindo’s theory of evolution. What are the
strengths and weaknesses of his theory?
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MODERN INDIA N THOUGHT
5. Discuss Śr ī Aurobindo’s conception of the Absolute. Is a doctrine of evolution consistent with the thesis that the brahman alone is real? The brahman is perfect, yet it goes through the evolutionary process. Why, and
how?
6. Can Aurobindo’s position—that the brahman, though one, becomes
many—be justifed from a philosophical standpoint? Give reasons for his
position.
7. Discuss Śr ī Aurobindo’s concept of the brahman and m āyā. Discuss some
of the similarities and differences between Śr ī Aurobindo and Śa ṃ kara.
Which position makes more sense to you, and why?
Suggested Readings
For an insightful discussion of KCB’s philosophy, readers may wish to read
Kalidas Bhattacharyya, The Fundamentals of K. C. Bhattacharyya’s Philosophy
(Calcutta: Saraswat Library, 1975). K. C. Bhattacharyya’s Studies in Philosophy, edited by Gopinath Bhattacharyya (Calcutta: Motilal Banarsidass,
1983), includes all the published and selected unpublished works of KCB.
I have used this edition. Some of Śr ī Aurobindo’s important works are The
Life Divine (New York: Dutton, 1951), Isha Upani ṣad (Calcutta: Arya Publishing Co., 1924), and The Riddle of This World (Calcutta: Arya Publishing
Co., 1933). For a concise discussion of KCB’s conception of the absolute,
see Bina Gupta’s “Alternative Forms of the Absolute: Truth, Freedom, and
Value in K. C. Bhattacharyya,” International Philosophical Quarterly, Vol. 20,
No. 3, September 1980, pp. 291–306; Steven Caplan, “Revisiting K.
C. Bhattacharyya’s Concept of the Absolute and It’s Alternative Forms:
A Holographic Model for Simultaneous Illumination,” Asian Philosophy,
Vol. 14, No. 2, July 2000, pp. 99–115; and G. B Burch, Search for the Absolute in Neo Vedanta: K. C. Bhattacharyya (Honolulu: The University Press of
Hawaii, 1976).
365
Part IX
TRANSLATIONS OF
SELECTED TEXTS1
Appendix A
THE FOUN DATIONS
The Vedas
The Upaniṣads
T HE FOU N DAT IONS
The Vedas
I The Ṛg Veda
Hymn to Puru ṣa (X.90)
1 The Puru ṣa has a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, and a thousand feet.
He pervades the universe on all sides and remains beyond the breadth of
ten fngers.
2 All is this Puru ṣa: All that has been and all that is yet to be. The lord of
immortality which becomes greater still by (sacrifcial) food.
3 Such is his glory, but he (Puru ṣa) is still greater. All creatures are onefourth of him; three-fourths are (the world of) the immortal in heaven.
4 The Puru ṣa went up with three-fourths of his nature, one-fourth remained
here. From this (one-fourth), he then spread himself over into those things
that eat and those that do not eat (i.e., animate as well inanimate).
5 Virāj (the female counterpart of the Puru ṣa, the male principle) was born
out of him; from Virāj was born Puru ṣa again. As soon as he was born, he
spreads beyond the world, behind, and before.
6 When gods prepared the sacrifce … the spring became the ghee (clarifed butter) for it, the autumn the sacred gift, and the summer the
frewood.
12 [When they divided the Puru ṣa] … the brahman was his mouth, out of his
two arms were the king (rājanya) made, his thighs became the vai śya, from
his feet was the śudra born.
13 The moon was born from his mind; from his eyes the sun; from his mouth
Indra and Agni; and from his breath, Vāyu (wind) was born.
14 From his navel came mid-air; from his head, the sky; from his feet, the
earth, and the regions from his ear. They thus formed the worlds.
16 With the sacrifce, the deities sacrifced the sacrifce. The mighty ones
attained the heights of heaven, the place where the ancient gods dwell.
Hymn to Creation (X.129)
1
2
3
The non-being there was not, nor was there being at that time; there existed neither the air nor the sky beyond. What covered them? From where
and in whose protection?
And was there deep impenetrable water?
Death there existed not nor deathlessness then. There was no sign of
night or day. That One breathed without wind through its self-nature.
Nothing else existed beyond that.
At frst, there was darkness hidden by darkness; all this was an unillumined ocean. That (which) creative principle (thing) covered by the emptiness; that One was born by the power of heat.
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T R A NSL AT IONS OF SEL ECTED TE XTS
4
5
6
7
From the primal offspring of thought, there developed desire in the
beginning.
Searching in their hearts through wisdom, the poets found the connection of the being in the non-being.
Their severing line was stretched across: What was there below (it)? What
was there above it? There were seed-bearers and powerful beings! (There
was) fertile power below and potency above.
Who really knows? Who can here proclaim it? From where was it born,
and whence came this creation? The gods are later than the creation of
this (world). So, then who does know whence it came to be (into being)?
No one knows whence this creation came into being, whether it was created or not created—he who is its overseer in the highest heaven, he only
knows—or, maybe, he does not know.
II The Atharva Veda
X.7.7–X.8.13 Hymns to Support
(Puru ṣa and Prajāpati of the Ṛg Veda)
X.7.7
Oh, wise man, tell me who of all is the all-pervading God, supported by whom
all the worlds were frmly established by Prajāpati?
X.7.8
How far did God enter within the whole universe, created by the all-pervading
God, having all the forms? What part did he leave unpenetrated?
X.8.13
The God Prajāpati resides within the soul. Himself unseen, he manifests himself in various shapes. With one half of his being, he produced the entire universe. How can we know of the other half?
X.8.43–44 Hymns to Ātman or Soul as the Supreme One
X.8.43
Men having knowledge of the brahman know God, the Lord of the soul, within
the nine-door12 lotus fower and enclosed within three bonds.3
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
X.8.44
Desireless, powerful, immortal, self-existent, who is satisfed with the delight
that is his nature, lacking nothing—he is free from the fear of death who
knows this ātman, which is powerful, undecaying (remains young).
Hymn to Time (XIX.53)4
1 Just as a horse with seven-roped reins carries a chariot, similarly an unaging, omnipresent, all-potent deity who has thousand-fold powers of
vigilance—indestructible and the Almighty—has as his wheels the entire
world.…
2 Time carries along seven wheels: Seven are its centerpieces and immortality is its axle. The same time, revealing all these worlds moves as the
primeval deity.
3 A flled jar has been placed upon Time. We, on the earth, see him in
different ways. He illuminates all these worlds. They call him Time; he
pervades the entire vast sky.
4 He alone brought together worlds (beings); it alone encompassed them.
Through their father, he became their son. There is therefore no other
higher majesty.
5 Time created these heavenly spheres, also these terrestrial spheres.
Driven by time, what has been and what will be, and all that moves on
will stand apart.
6 Time produced the very existence of creation: The sun shines in Time;
creation fnds its existence in Time alone; the eyes can see only due to
Time.
7 The mind, the vital breath, and the named, are placed in Time; in time
all beings enjoy themselves at the very approach of Time.
8 Within Time is fervor, within Time is the greatest, in Time is the sacred
truth established. Time is the lord of all; he who was the lord of all living
beings (Prajāpati).
9 Sent by him, created by him, and on him, it was established; having
become the sacred word, the same Time supports the highest (the
brahman).
10 Time created all creatures. He created Hira ṇyagarbha (the Lord of all beings) at frst, the source of all creation. The self-existent Kaśyapa (an ancient Sage) was born from Time; heat was born from Time.
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T R A NSL AT IONS OF SEL ECTED TE XTS
The Upaniṣads
I The Taittr īyā Upaniṣad
Investigations about the Brahman
III.1.1–6
I I I .1.1
Bh ṛgu, the son of Varu ṇa, came to his father, and said, “Sir, teach me about
the brahman.” He replied, “It is food, life, sight, hearing, mind, and speech.”
He said further, “It is that from which all these beings arise, that by which, after being born, they are sustained, that in which, when departing, they enter.
Know him, that is the brahman.”
He (Varu ṇa) performed austerities. Having performed it [he (Varu ṇa) received the wisdom.]
I I I .1. 2
He learned that food is the brahman. It is from food that all these beings are
born, it is from food that after being born they live, and when departing they
return to it. After having learned this, he again approached his father, Varu ṇa, and said to him, “Teach me the brahman.” Varu ṇa said to him, “Seek to
know the brahman through austerity, the brahman is austerity.”
He (Bh ṛgu) performed austerities. Having performed austerity [he, Varu ṇa,
received the wisdom].
I I I .1. 3
He learned that life is the brahman, that it is from life that all beings are born,
that from life after being born they live, and when departing they return into
it. After having learned this, he again approached his father, Varu ṇa, and
said to him, “Teach me the brahman.” Varu ṇa said to him, “Seek to know the
brahman through austerity, the brahman is austerity.”
He (Bh ṛgu) performed austerities. Having performed austerity [he, Bh ṛgu,
received the wisdom].
I I I .1.4
He learned that the mind is the brahman. From the mind indeed arise all these
beings, being born they live by the mind, and, when departing, they enter into
the mind. Having known this, he (Bh ṛgu) again approached his father Varu ṇa, and said, “Teach me the brahman.” To him (Varu ṇa) said, “Seek to know
the brahman through austerity, the brahman is austerity.”
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
He (Bh ṛgu) performed austerities. Having performed austerity [he, Bh ṛgu,
received the wisdom].
I I I .1. 5
He learned that intellect is the brahman, from intellect indeed all these beings
arise, being born they live by the intellect, and when departing they enter
into the intellect. Having known this, he (Bh ṛgu) again approached his father
Varu ṇa, and said, “Teach me the brahman.” To him (Bhr ṛgu), he (Varu ṇa) said,
“Seek to know the brahman through austerity, the brahman is austerity.”
He (Bh ṛgu) performed austerities. Having performed austerity [he, Bh ṛgu,
received the wisdom].
I I I .1.6
He learned that bliss is the brahman, from bliss indeed all these beings arise,
being born they live by bliss, and when departing they enter into bliss. This
wisdom taught by Bh ṛgu and Varu ṇa is established in the highest heaven.
One who knows this becomes well-established. He becomes the possessor of
food and eats food. He becomes great in offspring, in cattle, in the luster of his
wisdom of the brahman, and great in his fame.
II B ṛhad āraṇyaka Upaniṣad
II.1.1–20
II.1.1
There lived one (conceited) Bā lā ki of the Gārgya clan. He went to Ajātaśatru
of K ā sī and told him, “I will tell you about the brahman.” Ajātaśatru said, “I
will give you one thousand cows for this favor.” …
II.1.2
The Gārgya (i.e., Bālāki) said, “The person in the yonder sun, I worship him as
the brahman.” Ajātaśatru said, “Do not speak to me about him. I worship him as
surpassing all beings, as their head and their king. One who worships him this
way surpasses all beings; he will become the head and the king of all beings.”
II.1.3–13
[Bā lā ki and Ajātaśatru exchange the same pattern of conversation with regard to the person in the moon, in lightning, in space, in the wind, in the fre,
in the waters, in a mirror, in the sounds, the person here in the quarters of
heavens, the person in a shadow, and the person in the body (ātman).]
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T R A NSL AT IONS OF SEL ECTED TE XTS
II.1.14
(Finally) Ajātaśatru said, “Is that all?”
Gārgya said, “That is all.”
Ajātaśatru said, “With all this, it (the brahman) is not known.”
Gārgya said, “Allow me to be your pupil.”
II.1.15
Ajātaśatru said “This is indeed contrary to practice that a brahmin should
come to a k ṣatr īya expecting the latter to teach him about the brahman. However, I will impart this knowledge to you clearly.”
He took him (Bā lā ki) by hand, rose, and they together approached a person
who was asleep. They call him with the names “Great, white-robed, shining,
Soma.” The person did not wake up. He (Ajātaśatru) woke him up by pressing
him with his hands. He then woke up.
II.1.16
16. Ajātaśatru said, “When this person fell asleep—this person who is full of
intellect—where was it, and from where did he come back.”
This Gārgya did not know.
II.1.17
Ajātaśatru said, when this one (being) fell asleep, this person who is full of
intelligence restrains by his intelligence, the intelligence of the sense-organs,
rests in the space within the heart. He is said to be asleep when he restrains
the senses. Then the breath, the speech, the eye, the ear [all these sense organs
are restrained], the mind is restrained.
II.1.18
As in a dream, he wanders; these are his worlds. He becomes, as it were, a
great king or a great brāhma ṇa. He assumes states, high and low, as it were. As
a great king, along with his people, moves about in his country according to
his desire, so in a dream, along with his sense organs, he wanders about in his
own body according to his desire, as he pleases.
II.1.19
When he falls soundly asleep, and knows nothing, he—after coming through
the 72,000 channels which extend from the heart to the pericardium, he rests
in the pericardium. Just as a young man or a great king or a great brāhma ṇa
rests after having reached the height of bliss, so he now rests.
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
II.1.20
From this self, all vital breaths, all worlds, all divinities, and all beings emerge,
just as a spider moves along the thread and as particles of fre come from the
fre. The secret meaning of self is that it is ‘the Truth of the Truth.’ The life
breaths are the truth; the self is their Truth.
III Ch āndogya Upani ṣad
The Nature of the Ātman (Indra-Prajāpati Dialogue)
VIII.7.1–4
V I I I .7. 1
The self that is free from all sin, free from old age, death, grief, hunger, and
thirst, the self whose desire is real, whose thought is real, that is the self you
should try to seek, that is the self you should desire to know. He who has thus
found out and who knows that self, he reaches all the worlds and all desires.
Thus, said Prajāpati.
V I I I .7. 2
Both the gods and the demons heard it. They said, “we seek that self, by seeking which one reaches all the worlds, and also all desires.” From the gods, Indra went to him, Virocana from the demons. The two approached Prajāpati,
with fuel in hand.
V I I I .7. 3
Then, for thirty-two years, the two lived there (with Prajāpati) the life of discipline of “aspirant of Brahm ā.”
Then, he (Prajāpati) said to them, “Desiring what have you been living (this
life of austerity)?”
Then, the two (Indra and Virocana) said, “The self which is free from evil,
old age, death, sorrow, hunger, and thirst, who desires the truth, who thinks
of the truth, he (that self) should be sought, he should be understood. He who
knows that self, reaches all the worlds and all his desires are fulflled.” That is
declared to be your words, Sir. We are living [this life of discipline] desiring
(to know) him (that self).”
V I I I .7. 4
Prajāpati said to them (Indra and Virocana), “The self is the person that is
seen in the eye. That is the immortal, the fearless (self), that is the brahman.”
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T R A NSL AT IONS OF SEL ECTED TE XTS
They asked, “But, Sir, who is the person that is seen in water and in a mirror?” He (Prajāpati) replied, “He is the same that is seen in all these.”
VIII.8.1–3
V I I I . 8 .1
Look at yourself in a bowl of water and let me know if you do not see anything
about yourselves.” The two looked at themselves in a bowl of water.
The Prajāpati asked the two, “What do you see?”
Then, the two said, “Oh, divine Sir, we see the self, (we see) a picture (of
ourselves) up to the hair and nails.”
V III.8.2
(As requested by Prajāpati, the two put on their best attire, and looked into
the bowl of water.)
“What do you see?” asked Prajāpati
VIII.8.3
The two said, “Oh, divine Sir, we see ourselves dressed up in the best
clothes.…”
Prajāpati said, “That is the self, the immortal, the fearless, the brahman.”
The two of them left with a heart full of tranquility.
VIII.9.1–3
V I I I . 9.1
[Indra even before he reached the gods, understood the danger of Prajāpati’s
teaching. So, he decides to return to Prajāpati.]
V I I I.9.2
Indra returned with fuel in his hands … he asked, “If the body is well-adorned,
the self is, well-dressed if the body is, blind if the body is blind, lame if the
body is so, lame when the body is lame. This self perishes as soon as the body
does. I do not see any worth in it.”
V I I I.9. 3
Prajāpati said, “I will explain this further, after you live with me for additional
thirty-two years.” So, did Indra. To him, then, he (Prajāpati) said.
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
VIII.10.1–2, 4
V I I I .10.1
He (Prajāpati) said, “He who wanders about freely in a dream, is the self, the
immortal, the fearless, the brahman.”
Indra returned with a quiet heart.
Then, but before reaching the gods, he saw problem in it. When the body
is blind, the self is not blind, if the body is lame, the self is not so, it does not
suffer from the defects of the body.
V I I I .10. 2
This self is not killed when the body is killed, it is not lame if the body is
so, yet it is as they kill him; as it were they undressed him; he experiences,
as it were, unpleasantness, he even weeps as it were. I do not see any merit
in this.
V I I I .10. 3
[So, he decides to return to Prajāpati again.]
Prajāpati said, “Live with me for an additional thirty-two years, then I will
explain it further.” He (Indra) lived with him (Prajāpati) for another thirty-two
years. To him, then he (Prajāpati) said.
VIII.11.1–3; VIII.12.1
V I I I . 11 . 1
When a person is asleep, whole and tranquil, and does not know any dream,
that is the self, the immortal, the fearless, the brahman.
Indra went away with a peaceful heart.
But even before reaching the gods, he saw this problem. This self does not
know himself as “I am he,” nor does he know the things (around him). He
appears to have been annihilated. I do not fnd any merit in it.
V I I I . 11 . 2
[Again, he (Indra) returned, with fuel in his hand.]
V I I I . 11 . 3
[Indra lived with Prajāpati for fve more years which amounted to one hundred and one years in all … so do people say, Indra lived with Prajāpati for one
hundred and one years, the disciplined life of a seeker after sacred knowledge.]
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T R A NSL AT IONS OF SEL ECTED TE XTS
V I I I .12 .1
(Finally, Prajāpati said to Indra) Oh, Indra, this body is truly mortal. It is bound
by death. Yet, it is the seat of the self which is deathless and bodiless. The embodied self is subject to pleasure and pain. There is no escape from pleasure and
pain for the embodied. But they do not touch the one who is bodiless.
The Brahman–Ātman Identity Thesis
(Śvetaketu–Uddālaka Dialogue)
VI.1.3–5, VI.8.7, VI.10.1–3, VI.13.1–3
V I .1. 3 – 5
(Uddā laka asked his son, do you know that) “by which the unheard becomes
heard, the unperceivable becomes perceived, and the unknowable becomes
known?” Respected sir, how can there be such a teaching? Uddā laka: “Just
as by knowing one lump of clay all that is made of clay is known, the differences being only a name arising from speech, reality being only clay. Just as
by knowing a nugget of gold all that is made of gold is known, the differences
being only a name arising from speech, reality being only gold …” (Śvetaketu replies,) “Respected sir, I did not know this, for if they (my teachers) had
known it, why would not they tell me so? Please tell me.…”
V I . 8 .7
(The Uddā laka said,) “That which is the essence of all things, the world has
that for its self. That is the truth, that is the self, you are that (Śvetaketu).
Please teach me further.” Uddā laka said, “So be it, Oh! dear.”
V I .10.1– 3
The eastern rivers fow to the east, the western to the west. They move from
sea to sea, and merge into the sea and become the sea itself and do not know
“I am this river,” “I am that river,” In the same manner, “all human beings
here, though they come from one Being, do not know that they have come
from one Being … That which is the essence of all things, the world has it for
its self. That is the truth, that is the self, you are that” (Śvetaketu). Please teach
me further. Uddā laka said, “So be it, Oh! dear.”
VI.13.1–3
V I .13.1
“Put this lump of salt in water and come to me next morning” (the teacher said).
The student did so.
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T HE FOU N DAT IONS
The teacher said, “Please bring here the salt you put in water last evening.”
The student looked for it and did not fnd it since it had dissolved.
V I .13. 2
He (the teacher) said, “take a sip of this water from this end. (Tell me) how
does it taste.” “Salty,” (said the student).
“Take a sip from the middle other end (and tell me) how is it.”
“Salty,” (said the student).
“Take a sip from the other end (and tell me) how is it.”
“Salty,” (said the student).
“Throw it away, and then come to me,” (said the teacher).
He (the student) did so and said, “it is always the same.”
Then he (the teacher) said, “My dear, you do not see pure Being, (but) it is
indeed here.”
V I .13. 3
“That which the entire world has as its subtle essence is its self. That is the
truth. That is the self. you are that, Śvetaketu.” (the teacher said) ….
379
Appendix B
THE NON-VEDIC SYSTEMS
The Cārvāka Darśana
The Jaina Darśana
The Bauddha Darśana
T H E N O N -V E D I C S Y S T E M S
The Cārvāka Darśana
I From the Play Prabodahcandrodayam1
Great Nescience:
The doctrines of Lok āyata as a science are known
to all everywhere, perception is the only (means
of) true knowledge; earth, water, fre, and wind
are the only realities; wealth and desire are the
only two goals of human life. The elements are
what form consciousness. There is not after-life,
for death is one’s salvation. Vācaspati composed
this work in accordance with our intentions, offered it to Cārvā ka. C ārvā ka, through his disciples
and their disciples, multiplied the work among his
disciples and their disciples.
(Enter C ārvā ka and his disciple)
C ārvā ka:
My dear child, you know that the science of punishment (or politics) alone is science (vidyā); vārta is
included within it. The three Vedas, Ṛg, Yajur, and
S āma, are mere words of the cunning. In talking
about the heaven, there is no special merit. See—
If the person offering a sacrifce reaches heaven
after the destruction of the doer, actions, and instrumental entities, then there would be many
fruits in a tree that is burnt by a forest-fre. And—
If heaven is attained by the animal that is sacrifced in a sacrifce, then why does not the sacrifcer slaughter his own father?
And—
Disciple:
C ārvā ka:
Furthermore, if śrāddha takes place in order to
bring about the satisfaction of the dead ones, then
pouring oil in a lamp which has gone off ought to
increase its fame anew, which is absurd.
Oh, preceptor, if food and drink were the highest goal for persons, then why do they abandon
worldly pleasures and take to very diffcult penances …, take food only every sixth evening, and
bear pain, etc.
The ignorants prefer to abandon worldly pleasures in order to enjoy the pleasures promised in
the śāstras composed by deceitful persons. Their
bearing of all sufferings is due to nothing, but
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false hope promised by deceitful persons; they
do not enjoy any of the happiness that is promised. Does one satisfy one’s hunger by eating the
sweets that one conjures up in one’s mind? The
dopes that are duped by cults contrived by crooks
are satisfed with cakes from no man’s land! But
how can fools’ restrictions—alms, fasting, rites
of contrition, and mortifcation under the sun—
compare with the tight embrace of a woman with
large eyes, whose breasts are pressed by intertwined arms?
The Disciple:
Oh, teacher, the authors of the śāstras say that
worldly pleasures should be abandoned since they
involve suffering.
Cārvā ka (laughing):
This game is indeed played with the feeble
minded by men who are really beasts.
They say that you should throw away pleasures because they are mixed with pain. What
person—who seeks his own good—throws away
white and tender grains of rice just because they
are covered with chaff?
The Great Nescience:
Yes, indeed, after a long time, I hear these
well-reasoned words which give pleasure to my
ears. Hey! Cārvā ka, you are my dear friend!
C ārvā ka (looking around): It is His Majesty, the Nescience! (C ārvā ka goes
closer to Great Nescience) Victory unto His
Majesty! This C ārvā ka salutes you!
II Cārvāka Refutation of Inference2
Refutation of the Naiyāyika View of Inference
Now inference will be examined. What, however, is inference? “Inference
is preceded by that [perception]” (Nyāya S ūtra, I.1.5). How? This is how:
one apprehends, in the kitchen, through the operation of the eyes, etc., the
relation between fre and smoke. This gives rise to a sa ṃsk āra, residual impressions [in the mind]; afterwards, at a later time one apprehends for the
second time the mark [or smoke], after which the universal relation between
them is remembered, after which there is a consideration [of the hill] as related to smoke. This causes the inference of fre [on the hill] from the mark
[the smoke].
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If one is absent, the other is also absent, for the one precedes the other.
Without the cause, the effect is not seen to have occurred. Perception is said
to be the cause; in its absence, how can there be any possibility of inference?
If this were possible, then it would be an example of an event being produced
when there is no cause. If perception is absent, so it is said, “it is impossible to
apprehend an invariable relation.”
There is reason why the invariable relation cannot be proved. Is it the apprehension of a relation between two universals, or a relation between two
particulars, or a relation between a universal and a particular? If it be the
apprehension of a relation between two universals, that cannot be accepted
because a universal is not possible [has not been demonstrated]. That a universal is not possible has already been established. Nor can it be a relation [of
vyāpti] between a universal and a bare particular, for a universal is impossible
[undemonstrated].
Nor is it [i.e., vyāpti] a relation between two bare particulars, for the particular
fres and particular smokes are infnitely many. As we have already shown, the
many particulars do not possess any common element. Even if that were possible,
the infnity of particulars would still be there. If the numberlessness disappeared,
then particulars would not exist. If there are no particulars, then, tell me, between
whom would the relation of invariable succession be apprehended? …
It may be argued that the relation of invariable succession could be apprehended in the case of a few particulars that are present at that time, but not
in the case of all particulars. Then, only those particulars may function as
having the relation so that one of them establishes the other. But the relation
cannot obtain in the case of all particulars if there is a relation between one
pair of objects, it cannot be the basis of inference with regard to another pair.
That would be an unreasonable extension. If there is a visual contact between
Devadatta’s eye and a jar, this would not produce knowledge of water, etc. A
contact gives rise to a cognition of an object only with reference to a determinate time and place [and not at other times and places].
Refutation of an Inference whose Hetu is
(based on the fact of) “Being an Effect”
Because of what follows, there cannot be knowledge of what is to be inferred,
for it is impossible that smoke is an effect. It cannot be considered as an effect,
because the cessation of its existence is not apprehended. It cannot be said
that it is that which is apprehended by perception, then (the question arises)
does this perception arise by being directly perceived, or does it arise by being
denied? If it is said that the cessation of smoke is directly perceived, then is
smoke the object of that perception, or is it something else, or is it nothing? If
the perception has smoke for its object, then this perception can establish only
the existence of smoke and not its negation.
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If the perception is of something else, then it cannot deny the existence of
smoke, since something else is its object. If it has nothing for its object, then it
would be like a person who is dumb, blind, and deaf. (i.e., it cannot affrm or
deny anything).
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The Jaina Darśana
I The Doctrine of Syadvāda3
XXIII. When it is integrated, an entity is without modifcations. When it is
differentiated, this same entity is without substance. You brought to light the
doctrine of seven modes which is expressed by means of two kinds of statements. This doctrine is intelligible to the most intelligent people.
When one desires to speak of a single entity—self, pitcher, etc., —having the
form of substance only, without any reference to modifcation even if they are
present, it is called “without modifcations.” It has the form of pure substance.
In such expressions as “this soul,” “this pitcher,” only the form of substance is
acknowledged, because of non-separateness of it and the modifcations.
“Differentiated” means described with distinctions on account of its capacity
for different forms. The same entity then is described as non-substance, without any underlying reference to the underlying substance. This is the sense.…
Thus, although an entity consists of both substance and modifcations, it has
a substance-form when the substance standpoint is taken to be primary; it
has a modifcation form when the emphasis on the modifcation standpoint is
primary and the substance standpoint is subordinate; it has the form of both
when both standpoints are emphasized.…
What are these seven modes and what are these kinds of statements? When
about a single entity, e.g., the soul, an enquiry concerning modifcations, existence, etc., without contradiction … a statement is made one by one with the
word “somehow” in seven ways, it is called the “seven-mode doctrine.” It can
be expressed as follows:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
There is a perspective from which everything exists. (Affrmation)
There is a perspective from which everything does not exist. (Negation)
There is a perspective from which everything exists and there is a perspective from which everything does not exist. (Affrmation and negation
successively)
There is a perspective from which everything is indescribable. (Simultaneous affrmation and negation)
There is a perspective from which everything exists and is indescribable.
(Affrmation and simultaneous affrmation and negation)
There is a perspective from which everything does not exist, and there is
a perspective from which it is indescribable. (Negation and simultaneous
affrmation and negation)
There is a perspective from which everything does exit, does not exit,
and is indescribable. (Affrmation, negation, and simultaneous affrmation and negation).…
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We have said that the complex nature of an entity is intelligible to highly intelligent individuals.…
The absolutist who is highly unintelligent, points out the contradiction in
affrming the contradictory modifcations.…
XXIV. When non-existence is assigned to different aspects of an entity, it
is not contradictory of existence in that entity. (Similarly) existence and indescribability are not contradictories. The unintelligent absolutists have not
recognized this and are afraid of contradiction.
XXV. One and the same thing is eternal and non-eternal. Somehow it is of
similar as well as dissimilar forms. Somehow it is both describable and indescribable, existent and non-existent.
XXVIII. With the words “it certainly exists, it exists, and somehow it
exists,” an entity is defned from false standpoints, by standpoints and by
pram āṇas.
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T H E N ON -V E DIC S Y S T E M S
The Bauddha Darśana
I The Teachings of the Buddha to Five Ascetics4
The Middle Way and the Four Noble Truths
There are two extremes, O recluses, which he who has gone forth ought not to
follow. The habitual practice, on the one hand, of those things whose attraction depends upon the pleasures of sense, and especially of sensuality (a practice low and pagan, fit only for the worldly-minded, unworthy, of no abiding
profit); and the habitual practice, on the other hand, of self-mortification (a
practice painful, unworthy, and equally of no abiding profit).
There is a Middle Way, O recluses, avoiding these two extremes, discovered by the Tathāgata—a path which opens the eyes and bestows understanding, which leads to peace of mind, to the higher wisdom to full enlightenment,
to Nirvaṇa.
And which is that Middle Way? Verily, it is the Noble Eightfold Path. That
is to say:
Right Views (free from superstition or delusion)—
Right Aspirations (high, and worthy of the intelligent, worthy man)—
Right Speech (kindly, open, truthful)—
Right Conduct (peaceful, honest, pure)—
Right Livelihood (bringing hurt or danger to no living thing)—
Right Effort (in self-training and in self-control)—
Right Mindfulness (the active, watchful mind)—
Right Rapture (in deep meditation on the realities of life).
Now this, O recluses, is the noble truth concerning suffering.
Birth is painful and so is old age; disease is painful and so is death. Union
with the unpleasant is painful, painful is separation from the pleasant; and
any craving that is unsatisfied, that too is painful. In brief, the five aggregates
which spring from attachment (the conditions of individuality and its cause),
they are painful.
Now this, O recluses, is the noble truth concerning the origin of suffering.
Verily, it originates in that craving thirst which causes the renewal of becomings, is accompanied by sensual delight, and seeks satisfaction now here, …
that is to say, the craving for the gratification of the passions, or the craving for
a future life, or the craving for success in this present life (the lust of the flesh,
the lust of life, or the pride of life).
Now this, O recluses, is the noble truth concerning the destruction of
suffering.
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Verily, it is the destruction, in which no craving remains over, of this very
thirst; the laying aside of, the getting rid of, the being free from, the harbouring no longer of, this thirst.
And this, O recluses, is the noble truth concerning the way which leads to
the destruction of suffering.
Verily, it is this Noble Eightfold Path.… [The Buddha repeats the Noble
Eightfold path quoted above.]
Then with regard to each of the Four Truths, the Teacher declared that it
was not among the doctrines handed down; but that there arose within him
the eye frstly to see it, then to know that he would understand it, and thirdly,
to know that he had grasped it; there arose within him the knowledge (of its
nature), the understanding (of its cause), the wisdom (to guide in the path of
tranquility), and the light (to dispel darkness from it). And he said:
So long, O recluses, as my knowledge and insight were not quite clear regarding each of these four noble truths in this triple order, in this twelve-fold
manner—so long I knew that I had not attained to the full insight of that
wisdom which is unsurpassed in the heavens or on earth, among the whole
race of recluses and Brahmins, gods or men. But now I have attained it. This
knowledge and insight have arisen within me. Immovable is the emancipation
of my heart. This is my last existence. There will be no rebirth for me.
Thus, spoke the Blessed One. The fve ascetics glad at heart, exalted the
words of the Blessed One.
II There is No Soul (Saṃyutta-Nikāya, iii.66)5
The body, monks, is soulless. If the body, monks, were the soul, this body
would not be subject to sickness, and it would be possible in the case of the
body to say, “let my body b