I am reading “Seeing absence” by Anna Farennikova (2013) on the epistemological experience of knowing that something is absent. The article (kindly suggested to me by Jack Beaulieu) deals with exactly the topic dealt with by Mīmāṃsā and Nyāya authors speaking of abhāva (absence) and seemingly in the same terms! (more…)
Maṇḍana reforms Mīmāṃsā philosophy of action and deontic by saying that one undertakes actions only because one believes them to be the means to a desired output. (more…)
The chapter on epistemology (tarkapāda) is the first chapter in the basic text of Mīmāṃsā, the Mīmāṃsāsūtra, but was presumably the last one added to the Mīmāṃsā hermeneutic enterprise.
Within the Vidhiviveka, a Prābhākara-inclined Mīmāṃsaka debates with a Vedāntin about the meaning of Upaniṣadic sentences on the self.
The Prābhākara insists that all sentences should be injunctive in character, and that Upaniṣadic sentences should also be interpreted in this way. But what exactly could they prescribe? They could enjoin one to know their content, they suggest. But this option is not viable, since there is no difference between “s is p” and “you ought to know that s is p” insofar as one knows that s is p through the first sentence, too.
A further option would be that the Upaniṣadic sentences enjoin one to know their meaning in a definite way (niścaya), but this option is also ruled out. For, if the niścaya were obtained through language alone, then it would occur automatically, without the need to enjoin it. If it were not obtained through language alone, then it would occur because of something other than language, but then the Upaniṣads would no longer be the instrument for knowing about the ātman, which runs against other fundaments of the school.
At this point, the Prābhākara-like objector suggests a further possibility, namely that Upaniṣadic sentences prescribe arthaparatā, i.e., the ‘intentness on the meaning’. This also does not go, because prescriptions need to have preferably a visible purpose, like ritual prescriptions. And understanding sentences as aiming primarily at their meaning would put at a disadvantage exactly prescriptive sentences, which aim not only at conveying their meaning, but also at urging someone to perform a given activity. Moreover, a prescription should aim at a certain goal and knowledge cannot be a goal separated from the content to be known (as explained above with regard to the case of whether the understanding itself could be enjoined): ज्ञानस्य ज्ञेयाभिव्याप्तिफलत्वात् फलान्तरानभ्युपगमात्।
In his Seśvaramīmāṃsā ad 1.1.12, Veṅkaṭanātha explains that the example of proper names does not prove that language in general depends on convention. He writes that the case of proper names is not a dahanadṛṣṭānta, possibly ‘an example which sets on fire [the whole theory]’.
Why so? Because
प्रकृते यथोपलम्भं स्वभावसहकार्यादिनियमात्*
Because in the case at hand (i.e., language, composed of proper names and common words) there is a restrictive rule regarding the role of intrinsic signification and its auxiliaries according to how [linguistic expressions] are grasped.
In other words, convention, as an auxiliary of intrinsic signification, plays a role, but only in the case of proper names. And the distinction is possible based on one’s experience of linguistic expressions, insofar as linguistic expressions which are not proper names are immediately grasped as significant by people who know the language. By contrast, they might have doubts when they encounter proper names of unknown places or people.
These are, as usual, my thoughts only. Should you have a different understanding, you are welcome to share it. I would be happy and grateful to read it.
*(The editions add a च after प्रकृते, which makes the connection with the previous sentence unclear. The manuscripts provide a better reading, without the च).
Mīmāṃsā authors distinguish broadly between prescriptions (vidhi) and prohibitions (niṣedha). The first ones are linked with a result, so that if one has fulfilled them, they get a reward. The latter, if respected, don’t lead to any result, whereas they lead to sanctions if transgressed.
Prescriptions are further divided into three groups (fixed, occasional and elective). The first two groups are configured as strong obligations (leading to rewards if fulfilled, but omitted only at the risk of sanctions), whereas the latter are configured as recommendations. As for prohibitions, they are divided into prohibitions applying to the person throughout their lives and prohibitions applying only to a specific context.
Next comes the somehow controversial case of reparations or expiations (prāyaścitta). These are in fact contrary-to-duty prescriptions. Such prescriptions have as their addressee someone who did some- thing wrong during the performance of a sacrifice; therefore, they can be taken to be contrary-to- duty (ctd) prescriptions.
Expiations can be used to eliminate the negative consequences of a transgressed prohibition. That is, after having performed the corresponding expiation, a transgressed kratvartha prohibition does no longer lead to a negative output on the sacrifice, and a transgressed puruṣārtha prohibition does no longer lead to a sanction. In Dharmaśāstra (jurisprudence) texts, for instance, authors discuss expiations to be performed after having transgressed the duty to live in Āryāvarta (the part of South Asia where nobles people live and where liberation can be achieved).
There seems, however, to be a basic difference between the first and the second type of expiations, since the first ones seem to be routinely performed in case of contextual errors. By contrast, the second type of expiations seems to be an undesired alternative. In other words, more research is needed, but it is possible that puruṣārtha expiations are of this form:
F (p) → ¬ p ∨ p ∧ Expiation
By contrast, puruṣārtha expiations seem to have this form:
F (p) → ¬ p ∨ p ∧ Sanction ∨ Expiation ∧ Lesser Sanction
What do readers think? Does my understanding match your knowledge of Mīmāṃsā and/or Dharmaśāstra?
Mīmāṃsā authors deal with conflicting commands according to a decreasing scale of preferences, which seems to me comparable to the scale of preferences according to which one deals with legal conflicts. Starting from below, 4) The least preferred option is to say that the commands at stake are meaningless or purposeless (nirarthaka). This is the least preferred one because it leads to the fact that the commands are not fulfilled.
Then comes 3) vikalpa, which is equivalent to flipping a coin, i.e., arbitrarily choosing one of the two commands to be fulfilled. This is also not ideal, because one of the two commands is not fulfilled and because this is arbitrarily done.
Then comes 2) bādha, which is equivalent to temporarily suspending the more general command and applying the most specific one. The suspension allows one to retain the general command as the default one for future undetermined instances.
Then comes 1), i.e., understanding the conflict as due to a failure in understanding the commands. One then rephrases the seemingly conflicting commands in a way which shows that no command is even suspended and that there was an exception embedded in the first command. 1) is only applied in the case of conflicts between a prescription and a prohibition.
By contrast, the most favoured solution for conflicts among prescriptions is samuccaya, i.e., fulfilling both prescriptions (e.g. “Do x given a” and “Do y given a” can be solved by doing both x and y given the situation a). If this is not possible, Mīmāṃsā texts speak of recurring to vikalpa (equivalent to flipping a coin to decide which prescription to fulfil). This is the least preferred option, because it implies disregarding one of the two prescriptions. Hence, vikalpa is reserved to the limit case of exactly equivalent prescriptions (e.g., “bake a rice-cake” and “bake a millet-cake”) which fulfil exactly the same role and are interchangeable.
What about the intermediate cases, i.e., cases in which the two prescriptions cannot be both fulfilled, but there are reasons to prefer one over the other? One applies bādha, i.e., suspension of the more general prescription in favour of the more specific one. Suspension is generally not the most preferred solution for deontic conflicts, because it implies the temporary suspension of a command. Mīmāṃsā authors prefer to rephrase both conflicting commands in a way as to embed one within the other in order to respect both. This embedding of one within the other implies the embedment of an exception within a general rule. I.e., out of the conflict between “Do x in every case” and “Don’t do x in case a”, one embeds the second command as an exception of the first as “Do x in every case but a”. This device is called paryudāsa and it is the preferred way to solve conflicts between a prescription and a prohibition.
But why is it the case that the conflict between two prescriptions cannot be solved through the device of paryudāsa (i.e., embed the more specific command as an exception of the more general one)?
Is it because paryudāsa is by definition reserved for cases of conflicts between prescriptions and prohibitions? Is it an a priori decision or a reasoned one? I am currently working on this topic (reasoned suggestions, as usual, are welcome).
While commenting on PMS 1.1.4, Veṅkaṭanātha makes a long digression aimed at refuting every kind of intellectual intuition, especially as a source for knowing dharma. Dharma, he explains, can only be known through the Veda.
People who claim to have directly perceived dharma are, by contrast, liars. This seems consistent in most cases, but may be problematic when it comes to the Veda, who are believed (by some) to have been composed by some ancient sages of the past, the ṛṣis. Veṅkaṭanātha explains that it is not the case that out of their austerities they gained the ability to directly perceive dharma, also because this would lead to a vicious circle, insofar as efficacious austerities would need to be based on the Veda. Thus, ṛṣis are not an exception to the rule.
This means that the ṛṣis did not compose the Vedas. How comes that they could teach them? Their teaching was based on the Vedas themselves (a Mīmāṃsaka would add: because time is beginningless).
Their (the ṛṣis’) teaching, by contrast, is of human origin, although it may come from the Veda (āgama). Therefore, the listeners [of such teaching] need to reflect on its root and once one eliminates that this teaching is based on a [supersensuous] perception originated out of the dharma’s energy, one needs to look for another pramāṇa for this dharma. And this is nothing but the Veda (itself) (śāstra).I am grateful to Meera Sridhara’s comment for having forced me to rethink my interpretation of śrotṛ (see below for her comment).tadupadeśasya tu āgamāyamānasyāpi pauruṣeyatayā śrotṝṇāṃ mūlaparāmarśasāpekṣatvena dharmavīryaprasūtapratyakṣamūlatvapariśeṣe tasmin dharme pramāṇāntaram anveṣaṇīyam. tac ca nānyat śāstrāt.
If you are a Prābhākara, you think that students don’t have to learn the Veda and that they actually do it because of the teachers’ duty to teach it. This certainly solves the problem of having a young boy (younger than 8) deciding to study the Veda based on an analysis of the benefits he will get out of this study. Does this also solve the problem of whether one should study also Mīmāṃsā?
In other words, assuming that one learns the Veda due to the prescription to teach it, does this prescription include the duty to teach the meaning? No, says Veṅkaṭanātha in his refutation of the Prābhākara position. Just like the knowledge of the meaning of the Veda is no included in the prescription to learn it by heart, so it is not included in the prescription to teach it. Both stop their function at the Vedic phonemes.
So far so good, but then Veṅkaṭanātha adds an additional reason why the prescription to teach does not reach until the meaning of the Veda, namely:
अबाधितप्रत्ययोत्पत्तावनपेक्षत्वलक्षणप्रामाण्यस्य वक्ष्यमाणत्वाच्च
And because in the case of the coming into being of a cognition which has not been invalidated, we will say that its validity (prāmāṇya) consists in its being independent. (SM ad 1.1.1, 1971 p. 27)
The reference is clearly to PMS 1.1.5, where the Veda is said to be a pramāṇa because it is independent from any other source. That is, once a cognition has indeed come into being and is not sublated, the only thing which could make one doubt about it is its having the wrong source, but if it is independent on any source, no such worry can arise. Why is this said here? Perhaps because a cognition of the meaning does indeed take place upon learning the Veda by heart and unless one can prove that it is wrong, one needs to consider it valid. Hence, the need to study Mīmāṃsā cannot be justified on the basis of the need to understand the meaning of the Veda.
Anubandhacatuṣṭaya, i.e., the four points you need to discuss at the beginning of a treatise (its topic, the purpose, the audience and the connection) are sometimes read back into texts which lacked them (as it happens with the maṅgala read into Aṣṭ 1.1.1).
When do they start being explicitly discussed? And by which kind of authors? I know of Buddhists like Dharmottara (and Yāmari, thanks to Eli Franco) and Vedānta ones.
Within Mīmāṃsā, Kumārila at the beginning of the Ślokavārttika, pratijñā section, speaks of content (viṣaya), purpose (prayojana) and connection (sambandha). The absence of the ideal reader is no suprise, since before the end of the first millennium this is often the case.
Within Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta, Veṅkaṭanātha at the beginning of his Seśvaramīmāṃsā speaks of content, purpose, ideal reader and seemingly not of the connection, although he might be referring to it by speaking of a pravṛttiprakāra. Hence, the group of four was possibly not yet crystallised?