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Inert and alive substances: Alternative classifications in Veṅkaṭanātha

In the Nyāyasiddhāñjana and the Nyāyapariśuddhi, Veṅkaṭanātha discusses some fundamental ontological topics in order to distinguish his positions from the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣika position.

The Nyāyasūtra proposes a fundamental division of realities into dravya ‘substances’, guṇa ‘qualities’, and karman ‘actions’,1 with the former as the substrate of the latter two. This leads to two difficulties for Veṅkaṭanātha’s agenda. On the one hand, the radical distinction between substance and attribute means that Nyāya authors imagine liberation to be the end of the connection of the ātman ‘self’ to all attributes, from sufferance to consciousness. By contrast, Veṅkaṭanātha, would never accept consciousness to be separated from the individual soul and even less from God. The other difficulty regards the theology of Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta. Since the beginnings of Pañcarātra, one of its chief doctrines has been that of the manifestations (vibhūti) of Viṣṇu, which are dependent on Him but co-eternal with Him and in this sense are unexplainable according to the division of substances into eternal and transient.

To that, Veṅkaṭanātha opposes more than one classification, so that it is clear that Veṅkaṭanātha’s main point is addressing the above-mentioned problems with the Nyāya ontology, rather than establishing in full detail a distinct ontology. For an instance of alternative classifications see, e.g., Nyāyasiddhāñjana, jaḍadravyapariccheda:

dvedhā jaḍājaḍatayā pratyak taditaratayāpi vā dravyam | ṣoḍhā triguṇānehojīveśvarabhogabhūtimatibhedāt || dhīkālabhogabhūtīravivakṣitvā guṇādirūpatvāt | jīvātmeśabhidārthaṃ tredhā tattvaṃ viviñcate kecit || (Nyayasiddhanjana 1966, p. 33).

“Substance is of two types, [according to this classification:] inert or alive, or [according to this other classification:] innerly [luminous] or what is its opposite. [Furthermore,] it is of six types, according to the division in [natura naturans having] three qualities, time (anehas) individual souls, God, the ground for [God’s] enjoyment (bhogabhūti) and [His] cognition. Some distinguish reality as of three types, in order to distinguish the Lord, the individual soul, and the self (as the material cause of the universe) because they do not want to include (lit. express) cognition, time and the ground for [God’s] enjoyment, since these have the nature of qualities”.

Bhogabhūti must mean, out of context, the same as vibhūti. My interpretation of ātman in jīvātmeśabhidartham is also based on context. Alternative suggestions are, as usual, welcome!

  1. There are in fact further categories, namely sāmānya ‘universal’, viśeṣa ‘individual’, and samavāya ‘inherence’. See for the fact that these latter categories have been added at a later stage of the evolution of the school. The Navya Nyāya school adds also abhāva to the categories. (see Eli Franco and Karin Preisendanz, “Nyāya-Vaiśeịṣika”, Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy)↩︎

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Could Upaniṣadic sentences be interpreted as prescriptions? A debate within Maṇḍana’s Vidhiviveka

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।

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How to deal with Sanskrit words in an English article

I already discussed in this post how to transcribe Sanskrit, and how to separate Sanskrit words in transcription. Here I would like to address a further problem many of my students appear to encounter, namely how to deal with Sanskrit words in an article.

First of all, how many Sanskrit words should you keep in your article? The answer depends on your audience. If you address an audience of non-Sanskritists, use as few Sanskrit words as possible. If you address a Sanskritist audience, use Sanskrit words in parentheses the first time you introduce a given translation, so that readers can understand what you mean by your translation, e.g.:

Authors of Dharmakīrti’s school think that linguistic communication (śabda) is not an independent instrument of knowledge (pramāṇa), but should rather be subsumed under inference (anumāna).

Then, the next time you’ll speak of inference, etc., you will not need to explain which term you are translating. You do not need to use the Sanskrit words in case it is obvious or irrelevant. If, for instance, you want to discuss Dharmakīrti’s soteriology, it is probably not needed to say that when you speak of `word’ he used pada and so on. In other words, focus on just a few termini technici for which you want to give the Sanskrit equivalent. Sanskrit words are italicised and therefore attract the attention of the reader. Use them sparingly or your reader will be just confused.

A further connected issue is: In which form should you mention Sanskrit words? As usual, consistency is key. You can decide among of the following three options, but then stick to it:

  1. You mention the word’s stem (e.g., puruṣa, ātman, pratyakṣa).
  2. You mention the word in the nominative singular (e.g. puruṣaḥ, ātmā, pratyakṣam).
  3. You mention the word in the case in which it is mentioned in the sentence you are translating (e.g. “A person’s (puruṣasya) self (ātmā) cannot be grasped through sense-perception (pratyakṣena).
What you should avoid is mixing the three methods, and especially the first two.

Now, you might think that these are all details and are not as important as the thesis you want to convey in your article. This is true, but your peer-reviewers will be disturbed by your sloppiness and annoyed. They might even be inclined to think that your translations are probably also sloppy, given that you are not even able to transcribe Sanskrit accurately. Don’t risk a rejection because of inaccuracy. What do experienced readers think? What annoys you as reader? What do you recommend to students?

 

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The role of convention in signification

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).

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Reparations, expiations and prāyaścittas in Mīmāṃsā

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?

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Four ways to deal with conflicts

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).

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Buddhist ethics by Maria Heim

Maria Heim just published a short book on Buddhist ethics, which starts with the problem of the non-existence of ethics as a separate field of philosophy within South Asian philosophy in general and in Buddhist philosophy in particular. She then moves to moral reflections within the dimension of Buddhist practice. The book includes a comparison of Buddhaghosa’s and Śāntideva’s teachings and is freely available online until January the 7th. You can download it here.

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Professor by special appointment: Diversifying Philosophy (Amsterdam)

Are you a philosopher with a passion for academic teaching and research in diversifying philosophy? If so, please apply at Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam (VU). Location: AMSTERDAM FTE: 0.2

Job description The chair for “Diversifying Philosophy” will contribute to diversifying academic philosophy and making this diversity visible to a broader audience. The professor by special appointment preferably does so through research and teaching in the field of non-Western philosophy.

Your duties
  1. you will develop and teach a course in the Bachelor of Philosophy and/or a relevant Master track, preferably in the field of non-Western philosophy
  2. you will do research, preferably in the field of non-Western philosophy, resulting in publications in academic journals and academic lectures, and (preparing) grant applications
  3. you undertake activities for valorization in the field of your research and teaching, e.g. in the shape of public lectures

Requirements
  • you have a PhD in philosophy and enjoy a good research reputation, as shows from publications in (national and) international media
  • you have ample experience in leading philosophy research projects and supervising PhD students
  • you have demonstrable experience in translating the results of your research for a broader audience
  • you have ample teaching experience and are an inspiring teacher
  • you have excellent command of the English language

    • What are we offering? This chair by special appointment (“bijzondere leerstoel”) is a rotating chair. Appointment will be for a period of 2,5 years, with the possibility of a second appointment for another 2,5 years. This chair is non-salaried and is supported with an annual bench fee of € 2.500,-.

    As desired by the chair holder, work for this chair can either be concentrated in a couple of shorter periods, or spread over the entire period. The appointment is for 8 hours a week on average. In accordance with VU policy, this chair is open only to external candidates.

    Additionally, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam offers excellent fringe benefits and various schemes and regulations to promote a good work/life balance, such as: a wide range of sports facilities which staff may use at a modest charge (Thanks to Catarina Dutilh Novaes for pointing out this position).

    https://workingat.vu.nl/ad/bijzonder-hoogleraar-actuele-themas/xdayuc

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What were the ṛṣis up to while composing the Vedas? UPDATED

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).

tadupadeśasya tu āgamāyamānasyāpi pauruṣeyatayā śrotṝṇāṃ mūlaparāmarśasāpekṣatvena dharmavīryaprasūtapratyakṣamūlatvapariśeṣe tasmin dharme pramāṇāntaram anveṣaṇīyam. tac ca nānyat śāstrāt.

I am grateful to Meera Sridhara’s comment for having forced me to rethink my interpretation of śrotṛ (see below for her comment).