Siddha and sādhya in Viśiṣṭādvaitavedānta

Has anyone read the Bhagavadguṇadarpaṇa?

At the beginning of his Seśvaramīmāṃsā, Veṅkaṭanātha tries to synthetise what he (and Rāmānuja) calls Pūrva and Uttara Mīmāṃsā, with the further addition of the Devatā Mīmāṃsā.
In this connection he needs to address an apparent divergence, namely that between the siddha and sādhya interpretation of the Veda. In other words: Does the Veda always convey something to be done? Or does it always convey something established? The unity of the three Mīmāṃsās and of the Veda as their basis does not allow for a different interpretation of the statements in the Upaniṣads and in the Brāhmaṇas.

Veṅkaṭanātha cites Rāmānuja in order to show that there is no real opposition and that the sādhya-aspect is parasitical upon a siddha one. The example he reuses from Rāmānuja is that of taking action in regard to a hidden treasure: One starts acting only after having known that the treasure is really there. Thus, the sādhya element (taking action) depends on the siddha one (the acquired cognition of something existing).

At this point he also quotes from anoter Vaiṣṇava author, namely Parāśara Bhaṭṭa. His Bhagavadguṇadarpaṇa is a commmentary on the Viṣṇusahasranāma and here comes the quote:

How to translate ākāśa (and some thoughts on translation in general)

I recently discussed the translation of ākāśa with a senior and much more advanced scholar. Here come my thoughts thereon:
The first possible candidates for ākāśa are ‘space’ and ‘aether’.
I agree with my senior colleague that ‘space’ should not be used, because ‘space’ translates deśa and because one can imagine an empty space. In fact, the idea of avoiding an empty space is exactly the reason for postulating aether.

My current way of discussing possible translations is to create a conceptual map of the term I want to translate. In the case of ākāśa, this is

  • 1. a substance
  • 2. all-pervasive
  • 3. not directly perceptible
  • 4. postulated as the substate of sound understood as its exclusive quality

Ether, by contrast, is

  • 1. a substance
  • 2. all-pervasive
  • 3. not directly perceptible
  • 4. postulated as medium of propagation of the light waves and because pure empty space is unthinkable
  • 5. has been used in the 18th c to explain some problems in the theory of gravity

Therefore, it is right that ākāśa is not exactly tantamount to aether, especially as for sound (for which European theorists thought that air was a suitable medium). Still, if one needs to avoid leaving the term untranslated, I think ‘aether’, especially if accompanied by an explanatory footnote is still the best solution.

What do readers think?

Alternative theisms and atheisms (part 1)

One of the main advantages of dealing with worldviews other than the one you grew up in is the fact that you are exposed to doubts and alternatives. One of such cases regards the nebulous category of religion (to which Amod dedicated some illuminating posts on this blog), which in Europe and America is often confused with just “belief in (a) god(s)”. Part of the definition of religion is its being other than philosophy, so much that philosophy is looked upon with suspicion when it is mixed with “religious” purposes, like in the case of soteriology.

However, as soon as one encounters Buddhism, one is faced with the alternative: Either Buddhism is a religion (in which case, one would need to update one’s definition of religion) or it is a philososophy (in which case, one would need to update one’s definition of philosophy).

A similar case regards categories such as “Atheism”. Atheism as it is common nowadays is a relatively recent phenomenon in the Euro-American world, so much that one risks to postulate that it is a result of the Enlightenment, of Positivism, of the success of Science etc. A glance at South Asia shows that this is not the only way atheism can find its place in the history of philosophy. As shown by Larry McCrea, atheism might have been the rule rather than the exception in South Asian philosophy until the end of the first millennium. This also means that the later shift towards theism has a completely different flavour, insofar as it comes out of a different background.

I am especially intrigued by the moment in which this turn took place, with thinkers composing theistic texts and/or reinterpreting their texts and traditions in a theistic way. A typical example is the adoption and adaptation of Mīmāṃsā (originally an atheist philosophy) within theist Vedānta in the first centuries of the second millennium CE. I have already discussed about the various steps of this incorporation by Rāmānuja and Veṅkaṭanātha. What remains fascinating is

  1. how Mīmāṃsā was rebuilt through this encounter, with its atheism reconfigurated as negation of a given form of theos, but not of any form whatsoever.
  2. how Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta was challenged to produce a sustainable version of theism.

To elaborate: Theism in South Asia needed to grow in an environment in which atheist objections where the norm. It had, therefore, to inoculate itself with possible answers to these objections and to rethink an idea of the divine which could resist these attacks.

How could this phenomenon be studied? As usual with South Asian philosophy, many of the fundamental texts have never been edited and remain in manuscript form. Of the ones which have been edited, only a tiny minority has been translated. Of these translations, only a minority can be understood on its own right and independently of the Sanskrit (or Maṇipravāḷa) original. Still less common are works elaborating on the theology entailed in these texts (among the exceptions let me name Carman, Clooney, Mumme and Oberhammer; Ram-Prasad’s Divine Self especially focuses on Rāmānuja’s different concept of God). In short, texts need to be edited, translated, studied, compared with each other and read keeping in sight the goal of understanding the phenomenon of the convergence of theism and atheism.

Why at all should it be studied? The Mīmāṃsā author Kumārila Bhaṭṭa writes that without a purpose, even a foolish does not act, and in fact Sanskrit authors regularly announce at the beginning of their treatises the proximate and remote purpose of their works. In the present case, the proximate cause is the desire to understand the interactions between atheism and theism by looking at them from an unexpected perspective and to throw light on a fundamental chapter in the history of South Asian philosophy.

Reading and comparing theories on sentence-meaning (part 1)

The Mīmāṃsaka Śālikanātha is Prabhākara’s main interpreter, yet he is also an original thinker. How much of Śālikanātha’s anvitābhidhāna theory for sentence signification is already there in Prabhākara’s Bṛhatī? We will find out reading the Bṛhatī and comparing it with Śālikanātha’s commentary thereon and with Śālikanātha’s elaboration of the topic in his independent treatise, the Vākyārthamātṛkā, during this workshop.

Dividing words in transcription

I am often busy correcting my students’ essays and I often notice, when they decide to transcribe Sanskrit texts, that they have no idea about where to introduce white spaces. Hence, I thought of explaining it here, in case other students may need help with that.

  1. Be clear about what you are doing: You are transcribing a text from one writing system to another. It does not make sense to retain in the new writing systems peculiarities which only make sense in the original one.
  2. Therefore, you don’t need to reproduce in Roman alphabet the white spaces of the Devanagari (or of any other South Asian alphabet). For instance, mām eva, not māmeva, although the Devanagari would have मामेव.
  3. Just use spaces between words.
  4. What is a word? Use the Grammarians’ definition “whatever has a verbal or nominal ending” and add that the ending has to be visible (no lopa admitted).
  5. Accordingly, you don’t need a white space within the elements of a compound. For instance, kṛṣṇacaraṇāravindayugalaṃ vande and not kṛṣṇa caraṇa aravinda yugalaṃ vande.
  6. What about en-dashes, you might ask? You can use among elements of compounds, in order to make the life of your audience easier, especially in the case of longer compounds. Just be consistent and remember that the actual ending of the members of a compound are not visible. For instance, śrī anavadhikānantaprītisahitā can be transcribed as anavadhika-ananta-prīti-sahitā, but NOT as anavadhikā-ananta-prīti-sahitā.
  7. Some authors use conventions to show that a sandhi has taken place. For instance, anavadhikânanta, meaning that there has been a sandhi of a+a.

Good luck with your essays and transcriptions!

Is a Christian scholar better equipped to understand and translate early Christian texts? Yes and no

Or, better: Is a culturally Christian scholar better equipped to understand and translate early Christian texts?

Let me stipulate that “culturally Christian” denotes a scholar who was educated in a Christian milieu and knows Christianity from the inside. She might be more or less devout at the present point of her life. This stipulation is needed in order to avoid deciding about the inner life of people, which is, by definition, imperceptible and therefore undecidable.

Now, a culturally Christian scholar surely has some advantages over a non-Christian one, insofar as she will immediately recognise what is meant by short hints in a text. She will probably also be more likely to apply the principle of charity which —in my humble opinion— is a needed approach to the study of ancient philosophy.

However, a non-Christian scholar will have the opposite advantage, namely he will not try to understand small hints found in the text, because he will not immediately see them against the background of their successive evolution.

For instance, let us take the controversial problem of whether Jesus defined himself as God in the synoptic Gospels. The synoptic Gospels, unlike the Gospel of John, do not contain clear statements in this regard. Jesus rather defines himself as “the son of Man” (ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου). A culturally Christian scholar knows that Jesus is believed to be the second person of God (no matter how sure she is in her faith) and will therefore interpret the ambiguous statements of Jesus in the Gospels according to this knowledge. By contrast, a non-Christian scholar will be freer to think that perhaps Jesus was not at all claiming to be God in the synoptic Gospels.

Hence the question: Given the same degree of scholarship (and assuming that this can be ascertained), should we prefer scholars who are culturally close to the texts they are going to study and translate? In the case of texts which need to be approached by a team of scholars, should we prefer them to be ALL culturally close to the texts?

Can we speak of “multiple Renaissances”? What are the historical and political consequences of this use?

I just came back from a conference on the many Renaissances in Asia. Since it was part of the Coffee Break Conference project, it was meant to be most of all an open discussion on a fascinating topic (rethinking the concept of Renaissance and asking whether this could be applied also outside its original context, and more specifically in South Asia). The starting point of the discussion was Jack Goody’s book “Renaissances: The one or the many?”, which has been analysed from very different perspectives in the opening talks by Camillo Formigatti and Antony Pattathu and to which most of the following talks referred back to. There was a general consensus about the fact that Goody’s depiction of South Asia is at best incomplete and at worst repeats some orientalist prejudices about its being changeless.

What happens when the Veda prescribes malefic actions?

Vīrarāghavācārya's take on the Śyena

To my knowledge, Veṅkaṭanātha’s Seśvaramīmāṃsā (henceforth SM) has been commented upon only once in Sanskrit, namely in the 20th c. by Abhinava Deśika Vīrarāghavācārya.
Vīrarāghavācārya continues Veṅkaṭanātha’s agenda in reinterpreting Mīmāṃsā tenets in a Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta way.

The next IIGRS is approaching

Call for paper

International Indology Graduate Research Symposium

We are pleased to announce that the tenth International Indology Graduate Research Symposium (IIGRS 10) will take place at SOAS, University of London, on Friday the 28th and Saturday the 29th September 2018.

We look forward to receiving abstracts from graduate students, as well as early career researchers who have completed their PhD within the past five years.

Abstracts should be submitted to iigrsuk@googlemail.com by the 6th of May 2018. We will consider all Indological topics provided they are based on primary sources studied in the original language.

Abstracts should not exceed 300 words and should include:
1) Your name and institution + indication of research degrees and positions held;
2) the title of your paper;
3) a broad indication of its subject area;
4) an outline of its contents.

Please send your abstract in both Word and PDF format. More information can be found at:
https://iigrs.wordpress.com/

For further questions, contact us directly at iigrsuk@googlemail.com