Category Archives: Mīmāṃsā

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Prescriptions in Kumārila, Uṃveka, Maṇḍana

Maṇḍana’s thesis of iṣṭasādhanatā is an answer to the problem of how to identify the core of a prescription. What makes people undertake actions? Kumārila’s śabdabhāvanā (‘linguistic urge’) theory and Prabhākara’s kāryavāda (‘theory about duty [being the motivator]’) had already offered their answers.

Kumārila’s theory had two pillars:

  • 1. a theory of rational behaviour being always goal-oriented,
  • 2. a strong hermeneutic basis linked to the analysis of prescriptive language.

In the 2. analysis, exhortative verbal endings are analysed as entailing a verbal part (tiṅ) and an exhortative part (liṅ). The former express the action (bhāvanā), the latter express the injunction (vidhi/śabdabhāvanā). And any action needs three components, namely something to be brought about by the action (bhāvya), an instrument to bring it about (karaṇa) and a procedure (itikartavyatā), which is equated to the instrument’s instrument. bhāvanā, vidhi, bhāvya, karaṇa and itikartavyatā are all conveyed by the Vedic prescriptive sentence, but are they conveyed *qua* bhāvanā etc.? The answer is clearly affirmative for bhāvanā and vidhi, which are directly conveyed by tiṅ and liṅ respectively. By contrast, bhāvya, karaṇa and itikartavyatā might need the application of some further investigation on the part of the knower, who will need to apply hermeneutical rules (nyāya) to correctly interpret the sentence and link the bhāvya to the word mentioning the eligible person and the karaṇa to the meaning of the verbal root.

The first pillar (1) is taken up by Maṇḍana.
In fact, Maṇḍana expands on Kumārila’s intuition about human behaviour being always goal-oriented by offering a radical reductionist hypothesis. According to this hypothesis, being a motivator is nothing but communicating that the action to be undertaken is an instrument to some desired result. In this sense, prescribing X to people desiring Y is *nothing but* explaining that X is the means to achieve Y. The “nothing but” part of the definition is key to distinguish Maṇḍana’s position from Kumārila’s. Also for Kumārila a prescription presupposes that one understands that the prescribed action will lead to something independently desired.

Now, I am grateful to Sudipta Munsi, who recently made me read Uṃveka’s commentary on ŚV codanā 214, where Uṃveka rejects a view that seems a proto-version of Kumārila’s one, since it speaks of bhāvanā, of a desired bhāvya and of the meaning of the verbal root, but without mentioning the fact that this conveys the karaṇa. In this proto-Kumārila view, the prescriptive sentence impels (pravṛt-), but since one might doubt this impulsion, it implies (ākṣip-) a bhāvya in the form of something desirable and therefore orients the listener’s understanding to move past the meaning of the verbal root towards the identification of something really desirable. Uṃveka does not use the verb abhidhā- ‘directly denote’, but says that the prescriptive sentences conveys (avagam-) this meaning. The doubt (āśaṅkā) about the impulsion seems to be the reason for the implication (ākṣepa). Uṃveka does not frame this as a case of śrutārthāpatti (postulation of a linguistic element based on cogent evidence), because ākṣepa performs almost the same role (but without the postulation of an explicit linguistic unit, which remains implied).
Uṃveka contrasts to this view his own (vayaṃ tu brūmaḥ), according to which a prescriptive sentence first conveys an impulsion (preraṇā) and then (uttarakālam) conveys (pratī-) a desired goal. Here, there are important points that appear to be influenced by Maṇḍana (please remember that Uṃveka commented on Maṇḍana’s Bhāvanāviveka):

  • The mention of the destruction of accumulated bad karman as the desired result for fixed sacrifices
  • The connection between impulsion and the fact that the action impelled leads to a desirable goal

However, unlike in Maṇḍana, Uṃveka distinguishes impulsion (preraṇā) from the fact of being the instrument to a desired goal, whereas Maṇḍana’s main claim is that the two are completely identical. Uṃveka is possibly the first person mentioning the temporal sequence linking impulsion and the understanding (pratī-) of something as a desirable goal. Like in the discussion of the proto-Kumārila view, Uṃveka does not use the word abhidhā, but he says that the prescriptive content is conveyed (avagam-).

Pārthasārathi (another commentator of Kumārila) de facto embedded Maṇḍana’s view of iṣṭasādhanatā, i.e., the prescribed action is an instrument to a desired result, as part of Kumārila’s śabdabhāvanā theory, more precisely as its procedure (itikartavyatā).

This was just a quick summary. Specifications or corrections are welcome.

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Medhātithi on intention and action

In general, Medhātithi’s commentary systematizes the MDh. In the case of action and intention, he does his best to iron away seeming incongruities by explaining that intentional actions are liable to more blame than unintentional ones, which he accomplishes by adding the needed adverbs or adjective to the wording of MDh (e.g., in his commentary on 9.242 (on intentional vs unintentional crimes), 11.56, 11.77 (on the intentional vs unintentional killing of Brāhmaṇas), 11.125, 11.209 (on deciding expiations when no one is explicitly prescribed)). Accordingly, Medhātithi explains away the “unintentionally” in MDh 11.127, because the strength of the penalty implies that the action was performed intentionally.

As often the case in his commentary, Medhātithi derives his philosophical framework of reference from the deontic teachings of the philosophical school of Mīmāṃsā. For instance, he does not add his own definition of “action” and “intention”, but presupposes the Mīmāṃsā understanding of these concepts.
The speculation on action starts for Mīmāṃsā philosophers by considering the paradigmatic case of complex ritual actions. This means that they consider first and foremost actions spanning over a long period of time (hours or even days) and that cannot be easily explained as the result of ephemeral desires, but rather require what Alfred Mele calls “distal intentions” (intentions about the non-immediate future, see Mele 2006). Nonetheless, they all agree about the pivotal role of desire in action and, in this sense, ground each complex action ultimately in a “primitive” desire (i.e., a desire for something independently desirable, and not desirable for the sake of something else). Typical examples for primitive desires are desires for sons, rain, cattle, happiness, whereas desiring to know the meaning of a certain passage is considered subservient to some other desire, which has led one to read the corresponding text.
Accordingly, Mīmāṃsā authors distinguish between main actions and the activities they are composed of; one’s intention relates to the main action, whereas the intermediate activities are needed sub-steps, but are not independently intended. Therefore, different rules apply to the two sets. This bipartition is taken for granted also in the MDh and by Medhātithi. For instance, MDh 11.11–12 discuss the case of a main action (a sacrifice) being interrupted for want of an ingredient needed for an intermediate activity. Since the main action needs to be completed, one is allowed to complete it even by appropriating a single ingredient in a way which would not be normally allowed (taking it away from someone who does not need it). In other words, the need to complete the main action creates a situation of necessity that permits one to act in a sub-ideal way.
Intention is not dealt separately from blame in the Dharmasūtras nor in the MDh. However, Medhātithi is himself an insightful thinker and often takes up small clues in the MDh to open up a deeper discussion, and this happens in the case of his discussion of intention. Specifically, Medhātithi adds a second axis to the one examined above concerning intentions, prohibitions, and expiations, namely that of intention (saṅkalpa) and motivation. Near the beginning of the MDh, the elements underlying one’s observance of law is briefly outlined, including intention and desire:

To be motivated by desire is not commended, but it is impossible here to be free from desire; for it is desire that prompts vedic study and the performance of vedic rites.
Intention is the root of desire; intention is the wellspring of sacrifices; and intention triggers every religious observance and every rule of restraint—so the tradition declares. Nowhere in this world do we see any activity done by a man free from desire; for whatever at all that a man may do, it is the work of someone who desired it.
By engaging in them properly, a man attains the world of the immortals and, in this world, obtains all his desires just as he intended.

In this passage, Manu asserts a few things. First, he asserts that both engaging in activity and refraining from particular activities are “triggered” by intention (“intention triggers every religious observance and every rule of restraint”). The terminology suggests that Medhātithi is thinking of activities that would have otherwise taken place, and which demand effort on one’s side to be avoided (such as lightning a cigarette as the first thing in the morning for a passionate smoker). In other words, intention triggers one to change the present inertia, be it by undertaking something or refraining from acting inertially.
Second, he asserts—perhaps counter to intuitive notions—that it is intention that comes before and necessitates desire (“intention is the root of desire”). Third, he asserts that desire is a requirement for acting in the world (“Nowhere in this world do we see any activity done by a man free from desire; for whatever at all that a man may do, it is the work of someone who desired it”).
In his commentary, Medhātithi’s develops the ideas in this passage. Specifically, Medhātithi outlines the concept of intention and the required elements for action. Medhātithi introduces the topic of his commentary by first quoting a portion of Manu’s above passage:
Intention is the root of desire; intention is the wellspring of sacrifices; and intention triggers every religious observance and every rule of restraint—so the tradition declares.

Medhātithi then goes on to further explicate a view of how intention relates to desire and action, responding to various objections:

And therefore, he (Manu) spells out what has been said, namely that without a desire the nature of a sacrifice is not carried out. An intention is the root of sacrifices and similar actions, and of desire. A person who desires to perform a sacrifice or a similar action necessarily forms an intention. And when an intention is being formed, it is necessarily the case that a desire is also brought close as caused by it, even if this (desire) is itself not wished. Just like when a person aiming at cooking burns [wood-logs] also smoke is produced, even if unwished, insofar as it is caused by that same cause. In this regard, it is impossible that a sacrifice or a similar action is performed, if desire does not occur.

[Obj.:] Then, what is this intention, which you say to be the root of all actions?

[R:] It is the appearance (sandarśana) of consciousness (cetas), after which desiring (prārthanā) and ascertaining, one after the other, occur. In fact, these mental activities (vyāpāra) attain the role of root for the undertaking of all actions. For, it is not the case that material activities are possible without them. To elaborate: First of all, one ascertains the nature of a given thing, e.g. “This thing produces this effect”. This cognition is here called intention. Thereafter, desiring (prārthanā), i.e., will (icchā) occurs. This is desire (kāma). Once one has the will “How will I realise that (thing) through that (action)?”, one ascertains “I will do it”. This is the ascertaining. Thereafter, one undertakes an action with regard to an external activity which is the instrument to realise [one’s goal]. For instance, a person who wants to eat something first observes the action of eating [by someone else], then wishes “May I eat!”, then ascertains “I will abandon all other activities and eat!”. Then, he tells to the action, the cause, the place and the eligible person: ‘Come together, prepare (sajjīkṛ-) a succulent [food]’.

[Obj.:] But if this is the case, sacrifice and similar actions do not occur just because of an intention. Rather, they occur because of intention, desire and ascertaining. Thus, why does Manu say “sacrifices originate out of intentions”?

[R:] There is no flaw, since the intention is the original cause. For this very reason, he (Manu) will later say that one never sees any action by a person who does not desire anything.

These passages favour a plain reading of the claim in Manu whereby intentions are the root cause of engagement in sacrifices and other actions. At its core, the understanding of intention furthered here appears to be a basic consciousness of how certain acts relate to certain ends. While intentions have an initiatory role, desire and ascertainment necessarily follow. This approach is distinct from cognitivism (as defined by Sarah Paul), insofar as intentions are volitions and not identical with the corresponding beliefs.
In which sense can intention be the cause of desire and not the opposite? Is not it the case that we first experience appetites, then move on to form the intention to satisfy them and then perform the relevant sequence of acts? Let us start with Medhātithi’s starting point, namely that of complex actions, such as sacrifices, that extend through time. In their case, the claim that a basic appetite is what causes one to act, appears less plausible, because appetites are ephemeral and cannot sustain a longer cycle of activities. Accordingly, Medhātithi’s account makes perfect sense when it comes to actions that are performed not because of a basic appetite, but because of a conscious decision, but can it apply also to other kinds of actions?

While focus is placed in these passages on sacrificial and “similar actions”, which indicates a series of complex actions aimed at a particular result, Medhātithi makes it clear that the mental activities of intending, desiring, and ascertaining are the “root for the undertaking of all actions”. This sets up a fairly robust picture of action whereby actors hold in their minds a consciousness of how they understand their movements to interact with the world, which will result in a particular and desired end. In this sense, the psychological sequence Medhātithi sketched above could be a depiction of the phenomenological process through which a certain level of consciousness is a preliminary requirement for the process to be started, but cognition and appetite are also needed. The emphasis on phenomenology is due to the fact that it is hard to make sense of the statement that intentions generate desires (could one say “I intend to have dinner, therefore I am starting to feel hungry”?), but it makes sense that one only becomes aware of desire after having conceived the corresponding intention (“I intend to have dinner and realize that I am in fact hungry”). If taken to its extreme consequences, this would imply that there are no genuine conflicts between intentions and desires, because desires become available to one’s consciousness only once one has intended to do something. If desires are not directly responsible for our actions, how can Medhātithi explain episodes that are often ascribed to them, e.g. in case of what Euro-American philosophers call the “weakness of the will”? For instance, how could he explain the case of one failing to dress up to go to an opera even though they had previously formed the intention to go? Medhātithi could deal with is as a conflict among intentions, not among different causal factors (the intention to go and the desire to stay home) determining one’s actions. Alternatively, he could mention how inertial states take stronger intentions to be resisted and discuss such examples as based on a conflict between an intention and a hard-to-break inertial state. He could argue that it would be hard to dress up even independently of an active desire to stay home (thus proving that the problem is not due to a conflict between intentions and desires), because dressing up (like any act) involves effort, and all efforts are only undertaken if one sees that a bigger advantage will come of out them.

What do you think? Given Medhātithi’s premisses, does my extension of his thought to the above case make sense?

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Permissions for Prabhākara

Is it possible to command someone who is already inclined to act according to Prabhākara? 

Bṛhatī ad 6.1.1 says na pravṛttapravartane prayogaḥ āmantraṇādiṣu vyabhicārāt, literally: “[Exhortative endings] are not used to promote people who are already active, because of the deviant case (vyabhicāra) of invitations”. 

In fact, Prabhākara appears to believe that commands are always imparted on someone who is not yet active and who becomes active upon hearing them. The addressee of a command  desires something already and recognises themselves as the addressee through such desires (see Freschi 2012), but they are not active until they become enjoined.

Now, if Prabhākara means that active people are never promoted to act, why are āmantraṇas a good example? Orders (ājñā) are not used as a standard example because their being a clear case of promoting someone not already active had been attacked by the opponent in the previous line.

As for āmantraṇa, the situation with āmantraṇa is ambiguous, but Śālikanātha takes it as connected to a command uttered among peers (thus, it is not a clear case of a command uttered for people who are not already active). Moreover, what is the role of the vyabhicāra argument? How can a vyabhicāra argument be used to convince someone that something is *always* the case? A vyabhicāra can be used to show that it is incorrect to claim that “All As are B”, since there is at least one A that is not a B, but it can’t be used to corroborate “All As are B” by showing a further case of an A that is indeed B. In other words, why speaking of “vyabhicāra” and not of “yathāmantraṇeṣu” or the like if this was what he meant? The only possible explanation seems to be to think of āmantraṇādiṣu vyabhicārāt as “because the case of invitations, etc., deviates from the [opponent’s] claim”.  

Still, if it is impossible to command someone who is already inclined to act, how can Prabhākara make sense of permissions? When we are already about to light a cigarette and look around and ask whether it is OK and someone tells us “No problem, go ahead!”, isn’t the “go ahead” a command directed to someone who is already active? Could Prabhākara perhaps say that a command cannot enjoin someone who is already active because it would miss the apūrva element?

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Sāṅkhya on śyena

The Sāṅkhya reached its acme before Mīmāṃsā and its position is therefore attacked as a useful departure point for deontic discussions, especially around the case of the śyena in Mīmāṃsā texts (in the following, I will refer to its representation in Veṅkaṭanātha’s TMK).

Interestingly, although the school accepted the authority of the Vedas, Sāṅkhya authors did not insist on their being necessarily consistent and instead highlighted that the prohibition to perform violence should not be overturned, not even in case of sacrificial violence. Accordingly, they understand the sequence:

  • 1. One should not perform violence on any living being
  • 2. If one desires to harm one’s enemy, they should sacrifice bewitching with the śyena

as implying that 1. invalidates 2. Interestingly, Sāṅkhya authors are ready to go as far as stating that this applies also to the following sequence:

  • 1. One should not perform violence on any living being
  • 3. One should sacrifice an animal within the agnīṣomīya sacrifice

Whereas all Mīmāṃsā authors agree that 2. should not be fulfilled (but out of different reasons than the one put forward by Sāṅkhya authors), no one among them would agree in extending this position to 3.

Sāṅkhya authors are therefore presupposing that Vedic commands do not necessarily form a consistent whole and, more importantly, that prohibitions are \emph{unrestricted in their application} (see TMK 5.78). This is connected to a point we will see developed by Maṇḍana, namely the incommensurability of the bad. Transgressing a prohibition involves accumulating pāpa, i.e., bad karman, and this bad output cannot be compensated by any good result one might gather. Prescriptions contrasting with prohibitions are automatically suspended, since prohibitions are unrestricted and always prevail. Only prescriptions not contrasting with prohibitions are valid.

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Preliminary thoughts on truth and justification in U.T. Vīrarāghavācārya —UPDATED

U.T. Vīrarāghavācārya’s Sūkṣmārthaṭīkā defines `validity’ (prāmāṇya) as “the fact of being about a thing (viṣaya) appearing in the cognition in the same way in which it exists” (ad 1.1.5, p. 77 1971), thus showing an awareness of the distinction between the knowledge-independent real thing and its representation in knowledge. If the two correspond, there is knowledge.

Contrary to the common use of the word viṣaya (see Freschi, Keidan), Vīrarāghavācarya appears to denote the knowledge-independent real thing as viṣaya. This thing is said to specify (viśeṣaṇa) a cognition when this is about it. In the case of a valid cognition, the viṣaya specifies the cognition which appears as specified by that viṣaya.

Now, what happens in case of invalid cognitions? Can it be that the knowledge-independent thing has no impact at all on the invalid cognition? Vīrarāghavācārya distinguishes therefore between the prakāra `mode’ of cognition, i.e., the apparent content of it, the viṣeṣaṇa `specification’ of the cognition, and the viṣaya `knowledge-independent thing’. Suppose two people see a piece of mother-of-pearl on the beach and one of the two mistakes it for silver. Both have in front of them the same viṣaya, which influences (viśiṣ-) the cognition in the same way. However, the prakāra of the cognition is different, being in one case mother-of-pearl and in the other silver. In other words, we have valid cognitions when the prakāra appearing in the cognition is about the viṣaya and invalid cognitions when the viṣaya does not appear in the cognition as its viśeṣaṇa.

Thus, an erroneous cognition is prompted by a certain viṣaya (e.g., mother-of-pearl) and has a different prakāra (e.g., silver), but it continues to be determined by its viṣaya. Why not just speaking of viṣaya and prakāra? Possibly because the viṣaya belongs to the ontological field, whereas the way it affects cognitions is via its determining them (viṣeṣyakatva).

The latter term needs to be introduced in order to avoid the naïve assumption that the cognition represents directly the external object. prakāra and viṣaya are connected via the fact that a viṣaya determines the cognition, which therefore displays the resulting prakāra.

Last, U.T. Vīrarāghavācārya also speaks of characteristic (dharma) and characteristic-bearer (dharmin). The dharma is the presentation-mode of a certain external object. In this sense, the dharma-dharmin pair on the ontological level corresponds to the prakāra-viṣaya one on the epistemic one. A correct cognition recognises as its prakāra the same dharma which actually inheres in a given dharmin.

At this point one might wonder whether the picture of the SĀṬ corresponds broadly to an externalist account. In fact, it mentions an external check (the correspondence between the viṣaya and the prakāra) for truth. However, such account of truth is only normatively relevant. For all practical purposes, truth does not need to be ascertained. U.T. Vīrarāghavācārya is an upholder of intrinsic validity and, hence, the externalist account of truth is accompanied by an account of justification which requires neither external nor internal reasons.
There is also something else which is interestingly new with respect to the Seśvaramīmāṃsā account of epistemology, namely the link between access to cognitions and justification of validity (and here I would be glad to read your thoughts!). In fact, first U.T. Vīrarāghavācārya says that validity is intrinsic because a knower grasps at the same time what appears as the content of a cognition and the cognition’s determining factor. Then, his Naiyāyika opponent retorts that validity is extrinsic, because what appears as the content of a given cognition is not the same thing as what appears once one thinks about the cognitive event.

Then, U.T. Vīrarāghavācārya replies that this is not a real problem, since it is enough for justification that what appears at the metalevel is connected to what appears in the cognition, thus pointing to svataḥprāmāṇya vs parataḥprāmāṇya as being about cognition-objects and their representations at a meta-cognitive level. If the two happen to diverge, then, it appears, an additional step of external justification is needed.

In other words, the picture gets more complex once one adds to the above quasi-externalist account of truth the awareness of validity (see next posts) and U.T. Vīrarāghavācārya seems more open to the Nyāya point of view than Veṅkaṭanātha.

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Preliminary thoughts on divine omnipresence

Within the paradigm of rational theology (in my jargon, God-as-Lord or Īśvara), can God have a form and a body?… Do They need one?

Possible arguments in favour of Their having a body: 

—Yes! They need it to exercise Their will on matter (and, as Kumārila explained, matter does not obey abstract will)

—Yes! They need it so that we can revere Them.

The second argument does not count (it’s part of the God-as-Thou level), but the first seems powerful enough. If God did not have a body, They would have no influence on the world. Do They need a body in order to be omnipresent? And which kind of body? Surely not a limited one (as a deity could have it), since this would limit Their action (They could act only where the body is). Instead, They need to be omnipresent.

Which kind of body could be omnipresent? What would this entail?

In fact, most rational theologians I am aware of speak of God as being omnipresent, in a non-material way, but still as being able to interact with matter at will (so Udayana). Thus, as typical of the God-as-Lord, God is more-than-human, but very close to humans.

However, time and again theologians came to a different solution to God’s body, one which brings them close to the third concept of God, the impersonal Absolute. These theologians think of God’s body as omnipresent and yet material, because it is all that exists.

This all brings me to a more general question: Can there be omnipresence without a (limited) body?

This seems to demand from us a category jump. Because we need to put together presence in space (usually connected with extended bodies) and absence of a body (if conceived as extended in a limited space). 

I can think of at least three solutions:

1. space does not exist for God and is just a category conscious beings superimpose on the word (e.g., Kant, I am not aware of this solution prior to Kant)

2. pantheist version (God is the world) (e.g., Spinoza, Bruno, Rāmānuja)

3. God has something akin to a subtle body, which is omni-pervasive (vibhū) (Nyāya) 

The third case is often said to be a characteristic shared by God and souls (Augustine, Nyāya).

Yet, the souls’ omnipresence seems to be very different from God’s one (possibly because of some additional limitations due to their embodiment, the original sin etc.) 

What else can we say about Their omnipresence? It needs to be complete in each instance. God cannot be present for, e.g., 1/1.000.000.000.000 in the tree in front of my window, since this would entail the risk of Them exercising only a small amount of power on the tree. Moreover, They would be “more” present in bigger objects and less present in small ones! Thus, God needs to be completely present in each atom though being at the same time distributively present in the whole sum of all atoms. This again, calls for a category jump and not just a more-than-human body, since even a subtle matter extending all over the space will not be at the same time completely present in each atom. 

Thoughts and comments are welcome. Please bear with me if I am late in reading comments after the term starts again, on Monday.

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General and specific rules in Mīmāṃsā?

What happens when commands clash? A standard devise to deal with the topic is the idea of taking one as a general rule and the other as a specific one. In Sanskrit, these are called, respectively, utsarga and apavāda. Mīmāṃsā authors have, however, other devices.

For instance, Kumārila, discusses the prohibition to perform violence and its seeming conflict with the ritual prescription to perform ritual killing within a given sacrifice.
See his Commentary in verses (Ślokavārttika), chapter on Injunction (codanā), vv. 223—224:

तेन सामान्यतः प्राप्तो विधिना न निवारितः ||
फलांशोपनिपातिन्या हिंसायाः प्रतिेषेधकः |
“Therefore the prohibition to killing, obtained in general applied and not stopped by another injunction, prohibits the killing when it pertains to the fruit-portion |

Is this a case of a general rule overturned by a specific one (as claimed in Kei Kataoka 2012, Is Killing Bad?)?

If it were so, we would have the general prohibition to perform violence (F(violence)/T) being overruled by the more specific obligation to perform ritual killing in a specific setting:
F(violence)/T
O(violence)/sacrifice for Agni and Soma

However, this is not the solution adopted by Kumārila. Rather, Kumārila’s point is that the original prohibition to perform violence should be reconfigured as a prohibition regarding only violence as the result of the action, and not regarding instrumental violence.

That is, according to Kumārila, the Vedic prohibition to perform violence should not be read as
F(violence)/T
but as
F(violence as a result)/T
which does not conflict with (instrumental violence)

Comments, as usual, welcome!

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Why do people respond to commands?

Why do people obey to commands? Because they are immediately inclined, in a behaviourist way, to obey? Or because they realise that the action commanded is an instrument to the realisation of a coveted goal? Or are there further explanations?

This question has been debated at length in Sanskrit philosophy, oscillating especially among three main positions. I discussed these positions with some accuracy in previous posts, but this time I would like to try a bird-eye view about what is at stake.

On the one side, Maṇḍana claimed that the only motivator for undertaking actions is the awareness of the fact that the action to be undertaken is the means to obtain a desired goal. On the other, Prabhākara’s followers claimed that we immediately obey to commands because we feel enjoined, and only later analyse what is being asked and why. The role of the mention of the listener’s desire in commands such as “If you want to lose weight, try this shake!” is not meant to say that the enjoined action is an instrument to realise the desired output. Rather, the mention of the desire is meant for the listener to understand that they are the person addressed by the prescription. It picks up the person, who immediately relates with their own desires, but does not describe the existence of an instrumental relation between enjoined action and result. The last position can be connected to Bhartṛhari’s pratibhā theory. As depicted by Maṇḍana, this is a general theory about meaning, which includes both commands and descriptive sentence. According to it, human as well as non-human animals have innate inclinations which make it possible for them to perform activities they could have never learnt but are still able to perform, such as swimming or breastfeeding in the case of a baby. The pratibhā theory can be extended to commands which one would respond to because of an innate inclination.

Maṇḍana’s theory has the clear advantage of being a reductionist theory. By following it, one does no longer need an ad hoc semantic theory for commands, which can be reduced to descriptive sentences explaining the relation between the action enjoined and the expected output. Similarly, Maṇḍana provides a single theory covering all aspects of motivation to act, both in the case of commands and in the case of autonomous undertakings of action. In all cases, one is motivated to act because one thinks that the action is the instrument to get to the expected result. What are the disadvantages of this theory? First of all, Prābhākaras have a point when they describe our first response to commands. We immediately feel enjoined even before starting to analyse the action we have been required to perform. Secondly, Maṇḍana’s theory might have problems when it comes to people who know what would be best for them, but still don’t act. Can this all be explained just in terms of desires and instruments?

As declared at the beginning, the above is my attempt to give a short overview of the debate. Comments are welcome!

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Maṇḍana’s intellectual theory of motivation

Maṇḍana’s thesis is an answer to the problem of how to identify the core of a prescription. What makes people undertake actions? Kumārila’s śabdabhāvanā theory and Prabhākara’s kāryavāda had already offered their answers. Maṇḍana expands on Kumārila’s intuition about human behaviour being always goal-oriented by offering a radical reductionist hypothesis. According to this hypothesis, being a motivator is nothing but communicating that the action to be undertaken is an instrument to some coveted result. In this sense, prescribing X to people desiring Y is nothing but explaining that X is the means to achieve Y.

This cognitive interpretation of what motivates one to act could be accused of intellectualism. What about agents who, though understanding that X would be the appropriate course of action, do not undertake it, perhaps out of sloth?

A possible answer is that Maṇḍana’s theory describes the behaviour of ideal agents, who are able to evaluate rationally what is the best means to a coveted goal. Alternatively, one might suggest (as hinted at at the end of section 11.2) that even such irrational people would be impelled to act, even if they then do not physically undertake any act. The iṣṭasādhanatā is a motivator even for them, although they do not act correspondingly. One might think of the comparable case of someone who intensely desires an ice-cream and comes to know that great ice-creams are available in a given part of the city. They are ready to go there, but undergo an accident and are prevented from going. Although they do not practically act, the knowledge about the ice-cream shop did act as motivator for them.

Correspondingly, pravṛtti is used as a synonym of prayatna `effort’ and indicates the undertaking of an activity, not yet its realisation. Similarly, a person said to be pravṛtta is one who has already conceived the decision to undertake an action, although no movement can be seen yet.