Category Archives: Philosophy

(Aadam Aziz tries to pray again after his returnal from Germany to Kashmir, but memories of his friends keep on popping up in his mind:)

‘… You alone we worship, and to You alone we pray for help…’ –so here he was, despite their presence in his head, attempting to re-unite himself with an earlier self which ignored their influence but knew everything it ought to have known […] And my grandfather, lurching upright, made a resolve. Stood. Rolled cheroot. Stared across the lake. And was knocked forever into that middle place, unable to worship a God in whose existence he could not wholly disbelieve. Permanent alteration: a hole.

Salman Rushdie
Midnight's Children (Picador, 1981), 11--12
Posted on

A prescription with two goals is meaningless?

According to the Mīmāṃsā school, especially in its Bhāṭṭa sub-school, each prescription needs to have a goal, which is independently desirable. Without a goal, a prescription is purposeless and meaningless (anarthaka). Does it also mean that it must have only one goal?

Within the discussion on the need to study Mīmaṃsā, Veṅkaṭanātha discusses the prescription which would promote such duty. He discusses at length whether the injunction to learn by heart the Vedas (svādhyāyo ‘dhyetavyaḥ) could be considered responsible also for the duty to study Mīmāṃsā or whether it stops its functioning at the learning by heart of the Vedic phonemes, without the need to undertake a systematic study of its meaning, as it happens within Mīmāṃsā. This leads to further discussions about the purpose of the injunction to learn. Can it really aim only at learning by heart the phonic form of the Veda? How could this be considered to be an independently desirable goal? By contrast, grasping the meaning of the Veda could be a goal in itself, because it enables one to perform useful Vedic sacrifices. In this connection, Veṅkaṭanātha notes that learning by heart the phonemes cannot be a goal and adds a cryptic remark:

svādhyāyārthabodhayos tu bhāvyatve vidhyānarthakyaprasaṅgāt (Seśvaramīmāṃsā ad PMS 1.1.1, 1971 p. 21)

Because, if both the [learning by heart] of one’s portion of the Veda and the understanding of its meaning were the goal to be realised, the prescription would end up being purposeless

What does this mean? Is a prescription meaningless when it has two purposes?

Posted on

From the problem of theodicy to the problem of evil

The problem of theodicy is at its basis the problem of evil. How can there be a God who is both benevolent and able to alleviate or avoid our sufferings, given that such sufferings are still there?

How can He exist, given that also infants and animals suffer, i.e., also creatures suffer, who cannot have deserved it? The role of karman cannot really solve the issue. In fact, if God cannot remove karman, than He is not omnipotent and Mīmāṃsā authors might be right in insisting that we should use only karman to explain present sufferings and avoid God altogether. If God could change one’s karman, but usually decides not to do so, then how can He avoid the accusation of being cruel?

Whereas the topic of theodicy is one of the major Leitmotivs running throughout the whole history of modern European and Euro-American theology and philosophy of religion, it is not formulated as a distinct topic in Sanskrit philosophy (for the similar case of free will, see
Freschi, ”Free Will in Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta: Rāmānuja, Sudarśana Sūri and Veṅkaṭanātha”, Religion Compass). Why so?

Part of the reason is linked to an accidental fact, namely the genius of Gottfried Leibniz, who wrote a Causa Dei `Trial of God’ and coined the term théodicée. Apart from that, the main reason for the relative absence of the problem of the contradiction between the presence of evil and the existence of God lies most probably in the fact that theism is a late-comer in the history of South Asian philosophy. In fact, in order to put God on trial for the presence of evil in the world, one needs the philosophical concept of an omnipotent and benevolent God, as it is found in Europe within rational theology. This is the kind of concept of God defended by some Nyāya authors, most typically by Udayana, and attacked by Mīmāṃsā authors, typically by Kumārila.

In fact, Kumārila’s attacks are the ones even later theists will have to be able to defeat. Kumārila shows that the idea of a God who is at the same time all-mighty and benevolent is self-contradictory, since if the Lord where really all-might, he would avoid evil, and if he tolerates it, then he is cruel. If one says that evil is due to karman or other causes, Kumārila continues, then this shows that there is no need to add the Lord at all as a further cause and that everything can be explained just on the basis of karman or any other cause.

The discussion on evil in the Ślokavārttika is prompted by a discussion on God’s creation. Kumārila asks why God would create the world:

prāṇināṃ prāyaduḥkhā ca sisṛkṣāsya na yujyate || 49 ||

The desire to create a world which is mostly painful for the living beings does not suit God || 49 ||

To the possible argument that God creates the world out of compassion, Kumārila replies as follows:

abhāvāc cānukampyānāṃ nānukampāsya jāyate |\\
sṛjec ca śubham evaikam anukampāprayojitaḥ || 52 ||

Given the absence of people to have compassion of [prior to creation], He could not have compassion |\\
And, if He were prompted by compassion, He would create only a splendid [world] || 52 ||

The next move of Kumārila’s opponent is found also in some Christian theologians, namely the claim that evil is not completely avoidable:

athāśubhād vinā sṛṣṭiḥ sthitir vā nopapadyate |\\
ātmādhīnābhyupāye hi bhavet kiṃ nāma duṣkaram || 53 ||\\
tathā cāpekṣamāṇasya svātantryaṃ pratihanyate |

[Obj:] Without evil, the world could not be created nor continue to exist |

[R:] Why would this be impossible, given that the instrument [to make it possible] depends on God Himself? || 53 ||
And if you were to say that He also underlies some limitations, than His autonomy would be destroyed |

Posted on

Against arthāpatti as only technically distinguished from inference (in Śālikanātha)

Against arthāpatti as only technically distinguished from inference (Śālikanātha)

In contrast to his willingness to play down the differences with his Prābhākara opponents, Śālikanātha is quite straightforward in denying the understanding of arthāpatti, which he attributes to an anonymous opponent, and is clearly influenced by the Ślokavārttika’s treatment of the issue.
According to this opponent, the absence from home is the trigger insofar as it is itself thrown into doubt. Śālikanātha starts by asking how could this impossibility be conceived and comes with two possible options:

  1. It is impossible insofar as the absence of the one is invariably connected with the absence of the other.

  2. It is impossible insofar as the absence from home is impossible as long as one does not postulate the presence of Caitra outside.

Posted on

On the death of Tullio Gregory

On March the 2nd 2019 Tullio Gregory died. I did not study with him, but he was my paramaguru (the teacher of my teacher) and the author of the books I and many are students used for years. His seemingly unlimited knowledge of the intricate connections stretching through Medieval and Renaissance Europe made him able to recognise influences and exchanges of ideas. His acute intellect read in these lines the basic features of the making of a philosophical journey, and not just exchanges of letters and students. He was able to look at seemingly uninteresting topics and periods and come back with theoretical treasures in his hands.

His attention at the lines connecting various geographic areas also means that he was never trapped in the myth of a West developing alone towards the conquest of the world from Ancient Greece to the industrialisation (see here for a lecture on trans-lation as a key term to understand the history of philosophy).

If you can read Italian and have already read his works, you can read a short appraisal of him here. A more generalist take on him can be found in English here.

Posted on

Why bother to look at material from South Asia, when there is so much interesting stuff in “our” tradition?

From time to time and never by scholars, I am confronted with some variant of this question: “Why bother to look at material from South Asia, when there is so much interesting stuff in “our” tradition?”. As examples for the richness of “our” tradition the Bible, the Ancient Greek and Latin classics, European philosophy etc. are mentioned.

Once again, let me repeat that I never received this question from scholars,

Posted on

Emotions in Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta: the role of poems

As discussed in previous posts, emotions are intrinsic to the soul according to Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta and will therefore remain with them forever, including in the state of liberation. Moreover, emotions are also instrumental to reach liberation. Therefore, emotions are also part of an emotional pedagogy which is instrumental to the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta soteriology. How can this happen? Viśiṣṭādvaita philosophical treatises can speak about the importance of loving God, feeling desparate about one’s condition, etc., but this is not enough to induce such emotions. Therefore, at this point key authors of the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta change role and start using poetry. Poetry is meant to induce, e.g., awe and love, for instance, through detailed descriptions of the beautiful body of God. In this sense, poetry is not a substitution of philosophy, but a continuation of philosophy on a level which would not be reached by philosophy.

Posted on

On the nature of emotions in Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta: cognitions or volitions?

Are emotions (proto)-cognitive acts? We need to have already cognised a given thing in order to have an emotional response about it, but isn’t emotion itself also some sort of underdeveloped judgement about the thing? Isn’t a positive emotional response, for instance, a form of knowledge about the goodness of the thing it is about?

By contrast, one might argue that emotions are (proto)-volitional acts. After all, emotions often motivate one to act and in this sense, they seem to be strongly linked to volitions.

Or are they something completely different than cognitions and volitions? And which part, function or organ of the self is responsible for emotions?

What would be the “standard” South Asian view about emotions? And how does the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedanta view differ from it?

Well, the first thing to say is that there is no “standard” view, but at least two. The Sāṅkhya model is very authoritative and has emotions as cittavṛtti `affections/perturbances of the mind’, completely distinct from the self, which is a pure observer, unaffected by emotions. The Nyāya and the Advaita Vedānta model inherit the basic idea of the self as a pure observer and therefore imagine that in the state of liberation, no emotion is experienced. This stage might be nonetheless described by Advaita Vedānta authors as blissful since bliss would be the inner nature of the self.

By contrast, the Mīmāṃsā model sees the self as inherently an agent and a knower. It acknowledges the sequence, originally discussed by Nyāya authors, moving from cognitions to volitions and then to efforts and actions, however it considers that one and the same actor is responsible throughout the process. Volitions are described as having the form of desire to obtain or desire to avoid, thus including an emotional colouring. In this sense, one would imagine that emotions are implicitly considered to be (proto)-volitional acts. This point is particularly explicit whenever Mīmāṃsā authors make fun of the claim of “desireless actions” and claim that in order to undertake any action one needs desire (rāga) or aversion (dveṣa). The term desire (rāga) has a strong emotional connotation and includes one’s strong attachment to something or inclination towards it, and the same applies to aversion (dveṣa).
Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta authors inherit the Mīmāṃsā model and can therefore state that the liberated subject will continue to experience emotions.

The picture is however further complicated by the fact that Viśiṣṭādvaita authors need more emotions than the couple desire-aversion. Since they do not find in Mīmāṃsā the conceptual resources to deal with complex emotions such as desperation, which is essential for their soteriology, they turn to aesthetics. This discipline had evolved complex theories of emotions based on its original link to theater and to the psychology of actors and audience. Already in its foundational text, the Nāṭyaśāstra, there was a clear distinction of fundamental emotions, linked with their physical epiphenomena (such as goose bumps or blushing) and with the kinds of auxiliary emotions for each of them. Since the Nāṭyaśāstra is meant for theater professionists, it also discusses how to solicit such emotions —something of key importance for thinkers aiming at using emotions for soteriological purposes. The interaction of aesthetics and soteriology is paramount in another school of Vedānta, namely the Gauḍīya Vedānta founded by Caitanya and developed by Jīva and Rūpa Gosvāmin.

Posted on

Emotions in Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta philosophy: Distance and closeness

The main thing which stroke me when I started working on the theory of emotions in Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta is that emotions can be useful and are not to be avoided. In other words, unlike some Sāṅkhya-Yoga philosophers, the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta authors do not think that one should aim at some form of ataraxìa. Why not? Because one needs emotions in order to start one’s path towards the good. Moreover, emotions are not just useful as preliminary steps, insofar as emotions are present also in the liberated state (again, unlike in the Sāṅkhya, Yoga and also Nyāya and Buddhist Theravāda schools).

This does not mean that all emotions are necessarily good. The emotions which are praised are, chronologically speaking, dejection and desperation and then confidence, love (ranging from friendship to passion and awe) and possibly compassion.

Dejection and the absolute desperation in one’s ability to improve one’s condition are absolutely needed at the start of one’s spiritual path. In fact, as long as one thinks to be able to achieve something, no matter how small, one is unconsciously doubting God’s omnipotence and locating oneself above Him. Paradoxically, one’s extreme dejection and the feeling that one will never be saved, since one is not even worthy of begging God for help, are therefore the preliminary step for God’s grace to take place. One’s feeling of extreme distance from God is therefore way closer to Him than the self-conscious confidence of a person who were to think that they are a good Vaiṣṇava.

Once God’s grace has touched one, one feels blissed and joyfully responds to God’s grace with an emotional overflow of confidence and of love. The hymns of the Āḻvārs, which have been recognised as being as authoritative as the Veda for Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta, display a vast array of love. One can love God with maternal love (vātsalya), looking at Him as if he were the young Kṛṣṇa. One could also love God with admiration, looking at Him as the ideal king Rāma, and so on. This vast array is less variegated in the reflections of the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta philosophers, who rather focus on their feeling of reverence and awe for God. For instance, Tamil and Maṇipravāḷa texts insist on one’s being a slave (aṭiyēṉ) of God.

The interesting element here is that this feeling is not instrumental to the achievement of God’s favour. One does not present oneself as a slave in order to secure God’s favour and then be able to raise to a higher status. By contrast, one’s ideal condition, the liberated state one strives to reach is exactly permanent servitude (as described in Veṅkaṭanātha’s Rahasyatrayasāra).

Posted on

K.C. Bhattacharyya on the history of philosophy

“The historian here cannot begin his work at all unless he can live in sympathy into the details of an apparently outworn creed and recognise the truth in the first imperfect adumbrations of it. The attitude of the mere narrator has, in the case of the historian of philosophy, to be exchanged, as far as possible, for that of the sympathetic interpreter. There is the danger, no doubt, of too easily reading one’s philosophic creed into the history, but the opposite danger is more serious still. It is the danger of taking the philosophic type studied as a historic curiosity rather than a recipe for the human soul, and of seeking to explain the curiosity by natural causes instead of seriously examining its merits as philosophy. This unfortunately is sometimes the defect of Western expositions of Eastern philosophy and religion.”

(K.C. Bhattacharyya, Studies in Philosophy, Motilal Banarsidas, 1983, p. 2 —Thanks to Elise Coquereau-Saouma for the pointer).