In Sanskrit intellectual history there is not a single word for “commentary” and several words focus on different aspects (`bhāṣya’ for an extensive commentary spelling out aphorisms (MBh, ŚBh, ŚrīBh…), `vyākhya’ or `vyākhyāna’ literally meaning `explanation’ and often used as a synonym of bhāṣya when writing a subcommentary thereon, `vārttika’ originally for a concise commentary in aphoristic form (Kātyayana’s V), later for texts encompassing such form (NV), or written in verses (ŚV) or encompassing verses (PV, TV), `ṭīkā’ for a subcommentary (Bṛ, NVVTṬ…), `ṭīppaṇī’ for a commentary on only specific points here and there and so on, please read more in Preisendanz 2008 and Ganeri 2010). These plurality of words suggests (like the proverbial case of the many words for ‘snow’ in the Inuits’ language) a long familiarity with the practice of commenting, seen as entailing many different approaches to a text (or texts). (Btw: I am not at all claiming that this is unique to the Sanskrit world, don’t start telling me about many Latin words from glossa onwards).

Typically, these texts tend to focus either on the single text they are commenting on or on it together with the one this was, in turn, a commentary thereon (for instance, Vācaspati’s commentary on the NV, taking into account also the NBh and the NS). Another characteristic of such commentaries is that they will explicitly refer to texts of opposing schools, whereas they will just silently reuse texts of their own school, since they feel them as part of their own history, immediately recognisable to themselves and their audience.

Which kinds of texts would one comment upon?
1. In the standard case in philosophy, texts of one’s own school; but also
2. Authoritative (usually religious) texts that did not belong to one’s own tradition, but that one wanted to gain for one’s own tradition (for instance, Abhinavagupta’s commentary on the Paratriṃśikā).

What is the role of commentary in Sanskrit philosophy? It is the standard way of writing philosophy. There was a small number of aphoristic texts which did not present them as commentaries (but which often evoke other views and quote other authors), and starting possibly with Maṇḍana (8th c.) some monographs were written on specific topics, however, the practice of commentaries remained the standard and most common way of doing philosophy, enabling one to write about many topics. A common misunderstanding to be erased is therefore the equation of commentaries with non-original and pedantic work. This was most of the time not the case with philosophical commentaries.

However, the circumstances change with time (as to be expected) and if we look at commentaries post 13th c. the situation looks different.
I will focus on especially two aspects:

1. 1. the relation between text and commentary
2. 2. the relation between commentary and its sources

Concerning 1., many commentaries become increasingly not just about a single text (or a sequence of texts), but interact more with a network of texts (as I have discussed elsewhere in the case of Veṅkaṭanātha’s Seśvaramīmāṃsā, see Freschi 2018).
A very noteworthy case is that of the relation between the Advaitasiddhi and the Nyāyāmṛta. The latter is a very influential text of the Dvaita Vedānta school by Vyāsatīrtha, in some sense we could say that it is the text through which the Dvaita Vedānta becomes part of the mainstream philosophical discourse. How could this happen? Because Vyāsatīrtha took up Madhva’s (the founder of Dvaita Vedānta) central theses, but stripped them of Madhva’s idiosyncratic style and “repackaged” them in the powerful argumentative style of Navya Nyāya. Form is not only a matter of style when it comes to philosophical discourse and this change meant that Madhva’s core ideas and intuitions were now formulated in a strongly inferential form and made a really compelling case for their validity.

At this point, the Advaita Vedānta school could not continue to ignore Dvaita Vedānta. An Advaita Vedānta champion, Madhusūdana, took up the challenge and wrote a detailed response to the Nyāyāmṛta in the form of a detailed commentary (almost line-by-line) to it. This was not the kind of appropriation commentary I discussed above but rather a close rejoinder. At the same time, Madhusūdana needed to invoke his own set of authorities to join the discussion, thus contributing to the network-isaiton of the commentary.

Concerning 2., something I noticed in Veṅkaṭanātha’s commentaries is that they (against what I described above and in Freschi 2014) quote and mention people of Veṅkaṭanātha’s school and silently reuse opponents. Why so? It seems that quotations and reuse have shifted into a way to give prestige and authority to one’s position as part of the school, in a way that the reuse of opponents’ names and direct quotes would not be able to do.

I am, as already said, a late adapter, but twitter made me get in touch with interesting people coming from outside my direct field and I enjoyed several insightful conversations. One such conversation is directly relevant for many readers and I would be glad to read your opinion about it.

Short premiss: Someone (teaching in another institute) writes me explaining that their university would like to open a position on “Indian philosophy”, but that some colleagues are against it, claiming that “it is all religion”. Now, it might at times be disheartening to hear such opinions coming from colleague philosophers, but how would you react after a few deep breaths?

Here below comes my first reaction:

There will always be people who think they know what there is even in places they never visited, and I guess it must be hard for you to be patient and try to explain your reasons without getting angry. Usually, books like Matilal’s and Ganeri’s ones are really helpful here. Perhaps, you might also point them to the podcast by Ganeri and Peter Adamson on the history of Indian Philosophy? […] Many philosophers (especially historians of philosophy) know and trust P. Adamson and might be convinced by his opinion.

Also, perhaps you might try to understand where these people come from. Are they historians of philosophy? Analytic philosophers? Phenomenologists? Using Matilal and Mohanty for the latter two groups respectively might really help… Ch. Ram-Prasad’s books are also great to reach people working in the so-called “continental philosophy”.

Last resort: Give them a book which looks “religious”, like Parimal Patil’s Against a Hindu God and ask them what they think of the Buddhist syllogisms and their refutations of the Brahmanical ones.

P.S. I know that your colleagues meant “religion” in a derogatory way, but South Asian philosophy that engages with religion is intellectually extremely stimulating, too (and would they really want to cancel Thomas Aquinas or Augustinus from their philosophical syllabi?)

How do you react in such cases? I have strong hopes in young colleagues (like many of the ones I mentioned above) and in the positive effect their contribution will have, especially once added to the tasks which have already been accomplished by their forerunners. Till that moment comes, however, we will have to think of convincing and polite answers. What will your answer be?

Next, you can compare your answers with those of scholars like Jonardon Ganeri, Maria Heim, Chakravarti Ram-Prasad and Evan Thompson. The guest, Phil Treagus, is a bibliophile and already hosted posts on the most important books on several topics in philosophy, including Chinese philosophy. As a praiseworthy addition, he also invited a young PhD student, Jack Beaulieu.

You are also welcome to add your lists in the comments.

1. It is true that the early commentaries refer to the YS-YBh complex
2. It is also true that Vedavyāsa is mentioned as author of the YBh only relatively late, possibly for the first time in Vācaspati’s Tattvavaiśāradī
3. Furthermore, it is only with Mādhava’s Sarvadarśanasaṅgraha that people start distinguishing Patañjali’s from Vyāsa’s authorships.
4. Nonetheless, Maas’ argument is too dependent on the manuscript tradition, which has the two texts together, but is extremely recent (for Maas’ reply that recent manuscripts must depend on earlier models, see this post).
5. Squarcini also mentions in a footnote that Vyāsa himself mentions the name of Patañjali (but see a further post on this blog for D. Wujastyk’s answer thereon).
6. After having, in his opinion, weakened Maas’ arguments, Squarcini lies down his own one in favour of the existence of a separate YS: The text is highly and consistently structured and locates itself within a net of intertextual references, which the author of the YBh partly ignores. Squarcini claims to have identified the deep structure of the YS and distinguishes several subtopics within the main topics, signalling them as such in the Sanskrit text and in the translation. Accordingly, Squarcini highlights some key sūtras of the YS which work as if they were adhikaraṇasūtras.
7. Accordingly, Squarcini’s translation does not need to borrow words from the commentaries, as most other translations.

The forelast point is the most relevant one and it is substantiated in the first hundred pages of Squarcini’s introductory study. I will highlight here some of the elements which struck as most interesting. Readers are alerted that this is nothing but my summary, not (yet) validated by F. Squarcini.

• The question of the alleged YS-YBh unity has an impact also on the alleged proximity of the Sāṅkhya and Yoga systems. Squarcini argues against it on the strength of texts more or less coeval to the YS (e.g., Milinsapañha, Visuddhimagga, Madhyamakahṛdayakārikā, see p. lxxviiff), including the Nyāyasūtra, which ignores Sāṅkhya but discusses at length Yoga.
• Notwithstanding some affinities, e.g., the use of the words puruṣa, prakṛti and kaivalya, the YS understands them very differently than, say, the Sāṅkhyakārikā (pp. lxxxi–lxxxii).
• The dualism of the YS is, unlike that of Sāṅkhya and also (although Squarcini does not spell this out explicitely) of the YBh, is not an ultimate dualism. pusuṣa and prakṛti will not remain distinct until the end. Rather, the dualism of the YS is an “eliminative dualism” (the label is by Paul M. Churchland). Squarcini here elaborates on hints which can be found in Adolf Janacek (1951) and in L.W. Pflueger’s Dueling with Dualism. Revisioning the Paradox of Puruṣa and Prakṛti (see pp. lxxxvii–cxi)

We can answer the question “What is it?” for a religion or worldview by proceeding either sociologically or doctrinally. […] In philosophy, for example, the question “But is it philosophy?” can be not so much a question about the boundaries of the discipline taken doctrinally as it is a rejection of any approach not already favored by the elite in power, In that case, the genus within which the question “But is it philosophy?” falls is not philosophy but rather politics, or maybe even just bullying. (Eleanore Stump 2013, pp. 46, 48).

What to do, then? Doctrinally, one can try to explain that it is indeed philosophy (use of syllogistic arguments, argumentative style, dialogues, interest in logic…). This will probably not be enough, so that one might want to go for the sociological approach:

In that case, the right response to the challenge “But is it philosophy?” is this: “well, I’m a philosopher, and this is what I believe and do as a philosopher.” (p. 47)

In this sense, public figures like Ganeri are probably very influential through their sociological impact (“he appears to be a philosopher, so what he does must be philosophy”) beside through their written work.
As for this blog’s mission, should we focus on acquiring the sociological status of “philosophers”, beside continuing to focus on understanding Indian philosophy and trying to convey how interesting it is?

(cross-posted on the Indian Philosophy Blog, where you can read also some interesting comments)

I have myself a few objections (which I signalled in the comment section of each podcast), but am overall very happy that someone is taking Indian philosophy seriously enough while at the same time making it also accessible to lay listeners. In this sense, I cannot but hope that Peter and Jonardon’s attempts are successful.

The series includes also interviews to scholars: Brian Black on the Upaniṣads, Rupert Gethin on Buddhism, Jessica Frazier on “Hinduism” (the quotation marks are mine only), myself on Mīmāṃsā. Further interviews are forthcoming. Criticisms and comments are welcome! (but please avoid commenting on my pronunciation mistakes.)

The deliberate ignoring of [the] […] twentieth century discussion […] is only a symptom of that widespread attitude which does not want to see Indian philosophy as a rationcinative enterprise seriously engaged in argument and counter-argument in its long history and developing […]. This, and not mokṣa, is its life-breath as it is sustained and developed by it. Those, and this includes almost everybody, who think otherwise believe also that Indian philosophy stopped growing long ago. (The Nyāya Sūtras: A new commentary on an old text, p. 8)

What do you think? Is there a common core to all Indian philosophical schools?

1. Because he is a philosopher
2. Because he deals with texts of other schools and thus aims at being understandable
3. Because he is a talented writer

But what should you read in order to better understand Jayanta?

• Graheli 2012 (OA on JIPh) gives you a comprehensive overview of the manuscript sources. Graheli 2011 (RSO) and his forthcoming book further elaborate on which manuscripts and editions you can rely upon.
• Kei Kataoka has published (mostly alone, but in a few cases together with other scholars, such as Alex Watson and myself) an impressive list of editions, (English and Japanese) translations and studies on various parts of the Nyāyamañjarī. You can find them all listed on his blog. Most of them can also be downloaded from there.
• Jonardon Ganeri has dedicated various articles (see, e.g., Ganeri 1996 on JIPh) on the issue of meaning in the Nyāyamañjarī.*
• Similarly, P.K. Sen dedicated several interesting essays to the philosophy of language of Jayanta, see especially Sen 2005 and, if you can read Bengali, his 2008 translation of the fifth book.
• For a historical overview on Jayanta, you can read Slaje 1986 and the introduction of Dezső 2005 (Clay Sanskrit Library), which is an enjoyable translation of a philosophical drama by Jayanta.
• Should you be able to read Gujaratī, Nagin Shah’s translation of the Nyāyamañjarī is the best one, so far (in my opinion) (Shah 1975–1992). English readers can get some sense of it through Shah’s book-long study (1992–1997).

*By the way, should you need some foundations on Indian theories of language, you can think of reading Chakrabarti’s short Introduction to this topic (JIPh 1989) and then Matilal and Sen 1988.

]]> https://elisafreschi.com/2015/09/28/basic-bibliography-for-bha%e1%b9%ad%e1%b9%ada-jayanta/feed/ 0 1962 https://elisafreschi.com/2015/04/10/why-daya-krishna/ https://elisafreschi.com/2015/04/10/why-daya-krishna/#comments Fri, 10 Apr 2015 07:49:52 +0000 elisa freschi http://elisafreschi.com/?p=1600 I just noticed that the one I published yesterday was my tenth post on Daya Krishna. Since I usually dedicate that many posts only to Classical Indian philosophers, this might demand some explanations. Why engaging with contemporary Indian philosophers? And why Daya Krishna in particular?

I am generally interested in thinking people, who often happen to be philosophers, but might as well be anthropologists, linguists, scientists and so on, and in this sense I will not start by explaining why on earth I read philosophical texts. However, I have to admit that I started reading contemporary Indian philosophers (back in 2002) because I hoped to better understand classical Indian philosophy through their eyes. Even before that time, I had read B.K. Matilal’s works or J.N. Mohanty’s ones (not to speak of J. Ganeri’s ones) not for Matilal’s or Mohanty’s sake, but as a way of approaching Nyāya, Navya Nyāya or phenomenology. Reading K.C. Bhattacharya seemed to me like a continuation of that line of thought (following the steps of great forerunners). However, K.C. Bhattacharya proved to be too difficult to work as a doorway to something else and too interesting not to be read for his own sake.

Long story short: I read Daya Krishna (and further contemporary Indian philosophers) for their own sake, as I would read Kripke or Austin. No matter what he engages in, he offers an ever-fresh vision of things, relentlessly looking for what a text or an idea mean and not just for what one is used to think that they should mean. Daya Krishna’s work blossoms with openness to the “other” point of view hiding in texts, ideas or concepts: He is not content with the usual or the conventional and is clearly annoyed by whoever is. He constantly seeks for a counter-perspective, and should his ideas have become mainstream in one or the other field, he would have probably challenged his audience to question them again, always looking for prairies of thinking which could have allowed room for creative and yet rigorous enquires.

On top of that, Daya Krishna has for me the additional appeal of being interested in things I myself find interesting, such as Nyāya’s epistemology or Mīmāṃsā’s difficult relation with ritualists —something very rare in other philosophers who, especially in the West, are often rather pray to the fascination of the “new” and would not spend too much energy in the exegesis of an obscure school of Indian philosophy. By contrast, Daya Krishna does not seem to be ready to close a topic unless he has fully understood what is at stake, no matter if this has become outdated by new researches in the meantime (think of his invitations to Kashmir Sufis who were and are for opposite reasons —being too much or too little “Islamic”— often neglected both in Pakistani and Indian philosophical and theological discourses).

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