varṇa: 'letter' or 'phoneme'? (Or: How to translate Sanskrit technical terms?)

How to translate Sanskrit technical terms? Do we have to keep their technical aspects or make them more readable through non technical translations?
In my opinion, the answer varies according to the target readership and the text one is translating. I remember having translated thali in a Hindi novel with 'plate' because its specificites were irrelevant. By contrast, I would have not acted this way in case I were translating a cooking manual meant for cooks.

Take, for instance the case of akṣara in Indian linguistics. I cannot understand why, after Wezler's illuminating essay Credo quia Occidentale one can still translate it with letter/lettre or any other European synonym. If one translates it with 'letter', one

a) subscribes to the Western prejudice in favour of the written form of a language (although the truth is that each language is pronounced before being written),
b) projects into a Grammatical text something it did not mean to say (several Śabdapramāṇa theorists explicitly maintain that only spoken language communicates knowledge and the few who address the problem of written language say that it can inferentially communicate something because one infers phonemes out of their written form): if one makes an author speak of "letters" a reader aware of the debate might think that he was a sustainer of the possibility of written language to communicate knowledge. Is this really the case?
c) A naïver reader might think that 'kh' is made of two akṣaras/letters.

Long story short: the meaning (artha) is —in Indian linguistics— not conveyed by 'letters'. It is conveyed by phonemes. It is a distinct achievement of Indian linguists to have understood it instead of falling in the trap their Western colleagues felt in (i.e., the one of the superiority of the written system, aptly denounced by Saussure in his Cours). I really do not want to level their achievements down to the average Western level.
Westerners should start to think more about the topic if they find sentences such as "The meaning of a linguistic expression is conveyed by the phonemes composing it'' wired. And is not this (=leading to further thinking) our purpose?

How do you translate technical terms?

The whole discussion has been triggered by Aleix Ruiz Falqués, who dedicated a thought-provoking post to it. Be sure to read also the interesting comments by Jayarava and Aleix' answers. 
UPDATE: Further interesting comments can be found here.

āpātadhī in Vedānta Deśika and Rāmānuja

Reading Vedānta Deśika (aka Veṅkaṭanātha) often means having to do with syntetic expressions which can be understood only if one knows their background. One of such cases is āpātadhī or āpātapratīti, which recurs in the Seśvaramīmāṃsā, the Mīmāṃsāpādukā and in other texts by Vedānta Deśika (I owe this last notation to Marcus Schmücker).

An āpātadhī/āpātapratīti is, literally, a 'dropped down notion'. But what does it mean for a notion to be fallen down? I was first stimulated to read its antecedents in Rāmānuja's Śrī Bhāṣya by Halina Marlewicz' The question of the unity of Karmakāṇḍa and Jñānakāṇḍa according to Rāmānuja (available here). There, she translated this expression as follows:

[…] due to an instantly apparent (āpāta) and clear ascertainment of a durable and eternal effect, which is immortality, [which ascertainment is obtained from] the Upaniṣadic statements, occurring in the same part of the Veda of one's own Vedic tradition acquired by learning, one becomes qualified to study Uttara Mīmāṃsā […]
(adhyayanagṛhītasvādhyāyaikadeśipaniṣadvākyeṣu cāmṛtatvarūpānantasthiraphalāpātapratītes tan […] śarīrakamīmāṃsāyām adhikaroti). 

However, I am not completely convinced by the idea of equating āpātadhī with a sort of instantaneous enlightenment, as if it were due to a śaktinipāta.
Consider, by contrast, the following statement in a previous page of the Śrī Bhāṣya:

āpātataḥ pratītir vidyata eva, tathāpi […] āpātapratīto 'py arthaḥ saṃśayaviparyayau nātivartate.

The context is that of VS 1.1.1, discussing whether one needs to undertake a further study of the Vedānta, although one has already studied the phonic form of the Veda. The propounder says:

There is indeed a notion [of the content of the Veda] which derives out of descending down [automatically, from one's study of the phonic form of the Veda], nonetheless the meaning [of the Veda which one has acquired through] a descended cognition […] is still liable to doubt and contradictions.

If I am right, then, the āpātadhī is the cognition of the Veda's meaning one obtains automatically, as a consequence of one's study of the phonetic form of the Veda. This is still not stable enough and could be assailed by doubts, thus one needs to study the meaning of the Veda systematically, through the (Pūrva and) Uttara Mīmāṃsā.

For further posts on Vedānta Deśika's Seśvaramīmāṃsā, see this one and this one (in Sanskrit).

yoga, yukta, yujyate, etc.: should we translate all cognate Sanskrit words with cognate English (etc.) ones?

Should we translate Sanskrit words deriving from the same root with English (French/German/Latin…) words deriving from the same root? Or at least try to?
How important was the commonness of the root for actual readers and listeners? How much do we loose if we interrupt their continuity?

This is my procedure:

1. 1. I try to translate words deriving from the same root with cognate English words. E.g., anvaya 'relation', anvi- 'to relate'.
2. 2. I admit exceptions for technical terms, whenever I think that the technical aspect is predominant. E.g., I translate anvaya as 'positive concomitance' and vyatireka as 'negative concomitance' when they are used as a pair.

How do you proceed?

On the translation of Sanskrit texts, see this post and this one.

Next Sanskrit-Philosophical projects

Do you have just goals you can achieve by yourself? If not, here are my current projects, to which you are welcome to contribute. I will regularly update this post and add your names, if you desire to join and to be mentioned. Please consider that only the first six have been already undertaken:

• 1. Quotations and re-use of texts in Sanskrit śāstra. I have been working on this topic for several years and am about to chair a Coffee Break Conference about it (see here). The contributions will appear, if approved by the reviewers, in a special issue of the Journal of Indian Philosophy. I am now considering broadening the field to quotations and re-use of texts in Indian literature, including Veda, Belles Lettres and manuscript usages.
• 2. Coffee Break Conferences, i.e., conferences which are only meant for discussing and without read papers. We organize CBC once or twice a year, on several topics. You can read about the next projects on this website.
• 3. A panel on Testimony: I and the other two organisers welcome contributions on śabdapramāṇa in several fields, i.e., seen from the legal and philosophical point of view, in India and outside India. Further details can be read here.
• 4. Editions and translations: Jayanta's Nyāyamañjarī, book 5; Veṅkaṭanātha's Seśvaramīmāṃsā, Prabhākara's Bṛhatī, Rāmānujācārya's Tantrarahasya.
• 5. Finishing my study on vidhi, apūrva, niyama, in Grammar, Dharmaśāstra and Mīmāṃsā.

• 6. A reader on śabdapramāṇa in Indian and Western philosophy. NB: I have already written a book about it in Italian and it would be great if one could add translations of key texts in favour or against Linguistic Communication as an Instrument of Knowledge.
• 7. A textbook about how to translate śāstric Sanskrit (along the lines of Tubb and Boose's Scholastic Sanskrit), which should ideally include chapters on Reading śāstric Sanskrit (with textual examples and tutorials) and on the specific issues related to translation. For a blurb, see this post.
• 8. A collective volume on Mīmāṃsā as a sāmānyaśāstra (i.e., on Mīmāṃsā rules and ideas as found outside Mīmāṃsā).
• 9. A collective volume on Scholastic texts, i.e., on post-classical śāstric texts, e.g., on the struggle of doing philosophy after Kumārila, Dharmakīrti, Śaṅkara, etc., trying to balance innovation and strategies for preserving what is already there.

What are your projects? Do you have collective projects in mind?

Maṅgala for one's teacher

Auspicious (maṅgala) verses at the beginning or at the end of a Sanskrit text are precious for scholars, since they often entail the only historical information one can rely upon for dating the text. Often they contain information about the author and his family, or about his teachers. Given the general tendency in India to refer to teachers and respected authors with epithets and given the additional constraint of verses, one often finds elegant paraphrases for these names. The basic case is that of the usage of synonyms for parts of a name (e.g., paścāt instead of the prefix anu-):

karaṇakalebaramanasāṃ śaithilyaṃ sahajam asakṛd ālocya |
tantrarahasyaṃ kṛtavān rāmāvarajaḥ paropakārārtham ||

Having repeatedly seen the connatural feebleness of mind, body and sense organs
Rāmānuja (Rāmānujācārya) made the Tantrarahasya for the sake of others. (TR, beginning of the fourth book)

These paraphrases can be used also for books' titles:

-->

rāmānujāryaracite nigamāntabhāṣye jīveśvaraprakṛtibhedapare vinītaḥ |

śrīveṅkaṭādriguruṇā karuṇāvaśena rāmānujo vyadhita tantrarahasyaśikṣām ||

Rāmānuja (Rāmānujācārya), trained in the commentary on the end of the Vedas (vedāntabhāṣya) composed by the noble Rāmānuja (Śrī Rāmānuja) and aiming at [showing] the different nature of God and individual soul (jīva) |

Due to the mercy by [his] teacher Śrī Veṅkaṭādri, composed [this] teaching about the secret of the Sacred Texts |

Veṅkaṭādri could mean Veṅkaṭanātha (also known as Vedānta Deśika).

This leads to an open problem (pointed to me by Sudipta Munsi). At the very beginning of TR IV, Rāmānujācārya writes:

padavākyapramāṇeṣu parāṃ kāṣṭām upāgataḥ |
jātavedogurur yajvā jayati kṣitimaṇḍale ||
Hail all over earth to the teacher Jātavedas, the sacrificer, who reached the supreme level as regards means of knowledge, sentence and words!

At the beginning of TR I, Rāmānujācārya honours the main Mīmāṃsā teachers (from Jaimini to Bhāvanātha), all mentioned by name and with respectful epithets (Jaiminimuni, Śabarasvāmin, Prabhākaraguru…). But is Jātavedas (just) a name or (merely) an epithet? And in both cases, what does it refer to? I understood it as referring to the Vedic Agni, which is said to be jātavedas, in a way which accords with the following yajvan 'sacrificer' and underlines the Mīmāṃsā atmosphere.

What are your experiences with names of teachers and other authors in maṅgalas?

(All excerpts from my book on the TR, about which see this post.)

Translation of Sanskrit philosophical texts: What is at stake?

What are the requisites of a translation in/from Sanskrit of a philosophical text?

1. 1. Knowing the text and its context. This is the paramount requisite. No one will be able to translate a text she does not fully grasp.
   2. Knowing the context in the target language. One cannot expect to be able to translate the English "rule" as nyāya without taking into account its inner-Sanskrit hues of meaning. Vice versa, one cannot translate Sanskrit philosophical terms without taking into account the complex meaning of the terms they choose to translate them in English (or French or German) philosophy.

This being said, many methodological questions are yet to be faced, e.g.,

• A. Suppose your source text is obscure. Should you reproduce its obscurity?
• B. Suppose your source text, though philosophical, uses also a lively metaphorical language. Should you reproduce its style?

These problems are much less urgent in the case of translations within the same cultural area, i.e., from French into English or vice versa. Thanks to many centuries of mutual influences, English and French writers share a common reservoir of metaphors and poetical devices, understandable to both readers. Furthermore, readers share a common background of references and will easily understand short hints, so that it is rarely the case that a text will be really obscure and that this marginal obscurity can be reproduced without emparing the global understanding.

By contrast, in the case of very different cultural areas, i.e., while translating Sanskrit into English or German into Sanskrit (my last endeavours), the residual obscurity might be massive. And this obscurity might have not meant to be such by the author, who relied on the background he shared with his readers. Thus, the translator needs to solve the problem and to convey the text the author wanted to convey. A common example: Suppose the author refers to a well-known verse of the Gītā by just quoting its beginning. His target reader would have automatically supplemented the rest. But this is not the case for contemporary readers, who need the additional help of the whole verse being reproduced in the translation (either in the main text or in a footnote).

The problem is even more complicated in the case of style. I am personally convinced that dead metaphors (e.g., when we speak of a computer's mouse, we are not thinking of the animal the word originally denotes) should not be translated. As for live metaphors, I would try to translate them only if they are relevant (e.g., when they convey a shade of meaning which might have been meant by the author). An English author speaking about loving surrender to God, e.g., might choose to use the metaphor of falling in love on purpose. And a translator might consider reproducing it (kāmabhāvaṃ nipatati?).

What do you think? How do you translate?

You can read a text of mine about the importance of point no. 2 on my Academia page, here. 
Samira Nekooeeyan recently dedicated an interesting talk to the translation of metaphors in poetical texts. Her practical example was the translation of Shakespear into Persian, but she dealt in general with the problem of what to do with metaphors (one of the viable options being "ignore them"). You can read the abstract of the talk if you download the program of the conference, here.
I decided to write this post after an intriguing discussion (on "flos"/puṣpa) with Sudipta Munsi while we were translating Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. You can read the first step of this enterprise here.

How to translate śāstric Sanskrit in 8 steps UPDATED

How do you start translating a Sanskrit passage? What do you do if you cannot make sense of it? The following are my usual steps:

1. 1. Identify the structure of the sentence (verb--»agent--»cause, usually in the form "A is B because of C"). A 10-lines long sentence might be scary and its translation will be time-consuming if you just start translating the first word and then the second and so on. By contrast, holding immediately grasp of the whole structure makes it handable. 
2. 1a. In this regard Sudipta Munsi (see comments below) highlight the importance of remembering that Sanskrit is a SOV language (subject-object-verb, unlike English, whose structure is SVO). This means that the verb comes at the end and the object, most likely, immediately after it. Thus: start from the end!
3. 2. Check words you might not know. I recommend using Āpte's dictionary or —if you know enough German— the Petersburger Wörterbuch (PW). Monier Williams' one (MW) can be used, but while being aware of the fact that it is often a translation of the PW. Āpte has the advantage of being more aware of indigeneous lexicographies. As for on-line dictionaries: beware the ones which only give you a summary of the MW, without any information about sources, because you might end up trying to adapt a Vedic meaning into a much later śāstra. 
4. (2a. I am assuming you know Sanskrit grammar, but there might be some difficult forms you would have forgotten. Thus, check a good grammar for them.)
5. 3. Know the context. If you cannot make sense of the passage, chances are there that you would understand it, if only you knew the context better. In most cases, my equation about originality applies: one only learns a little bit of fresh information (say 5%) in every cognitive act. Thus: you only understand a passage if you already know most of what it means. In other words: don't start diving into Madhusūdana Sarasvatī's Advaitasiddhi unless you know already something about Advaita Vedānta (and Nāvya Nyāya).
6. 4. Read more similar passages, by the same author, within the same school or in coeval schools. It is very likely, that similar passages will throw light on yours. If you collect Sanskrit works, you will more probably be able to search through them efficiently. (I do not do it in such a broad way, but just because I have not enough searchable texts.) 
7. 4a. Read more Sanskrit. Vidya (see comments below) suggests that checking similar structures in another text might be helpful. This is not the same as my no. 4, because formally similar passages can be found also in texts whose content has nothing to do with the one you are reading.
8. 5. Connected with the above: read further. If you do not understand the passage, but feel you know enough about the school or the context, just keep on reading. Chances are there that once you have read 10 pages more, that initial trouble you encountered will be solved.
9. 6. Read with someone. Discussing problems is in itself a suitable way to solve most of them. In this sense, it is worth reading also with junior colleagues or students. Which, by the way, is also a way to help them, thus a perfect case of win-win.
10. 7. Ask for help. You surely have senior colleagues or teachers who can help you. Or, you can use mailing lists such as Indology.info, or ask a question on Academia.edu. Or ask scholars you have never met per email. Or ask me (if I do not know the answer, I will tell you whom you might ask to).
11. 8. In case you have not done it after no. 2 and/or after nos. 5--7: Look at the manuscript(s). As aptly suggested by Jason (see comments below) it is more than possible that what does not make sense to you is the result of a misprint or of a misinterpretation by the editor. It is not sure that the same does not apply to the manuscripts you will read, though.

Am I missing some further important point? What works for you? And: do these steps apply to other languages?

For some basic Sanskrit syntax see this post.

Mediating between Western and Indian Philosophy

Western philosophy, to the extent that it refuses to take an interest in these texts, will remain, as I've said before (paraphrasing Nietzsche), nothing more than a catalogue of its own prejudices.

(Justin Erik Halldór Smith)

Without knowing anything of Sanskrit philosophy, one cannot be a "genuine" philosopher, but rather someone who is avoiding dangerous questions (i.e., the very core of the philosophical enterprise).

If one were to object that one cannot be an expert on everything, and that one consequently neglects Indian philosophy because of lack of time, the appropriate answer would be, in my opinion: team work. One cannot be an expert on everything, but one ought to know that one is not and one ought to seek advice and help. From whom? From people who must be aware of both Indian and Western tradition and must be able to mediate and "translate". In the same post where I read the line reproduced here above, J.E.H. Smith also claims that he would like to become such a philosopher. I cannot but wish him good luck (and offer him my help, in case he could need it).

Do you share a similar agenda? Or similar concerns? Why (not)?

You can read the entire blog post by J.E.H. Smith here. And you can read a similar program in my own "about" page in Academia.

Financing an independent project

Mark Singleton and Jim Mallinson have presented a project called The Roots of Yoga on Kickstarter.com. In case you do not know about it, this website is meant to raise funds for independent projects. The proposer(s) submit a project and put down the amount they need to realise it. Money is raised from everyone who reads the project for a total of 45 days. The sums offered are actually charged on one's credit card only if the amount is actually reached within the given amount of time. If this is not reached, no money is charged at all. The rationale behind this (odd, at first sight) choice is that it is meaningless to partly finance a project. Either the project can be actually realised or not and if not, there is no point in giving its proposers a "tip".

I know J. Mallinson only because of his work and from conferences. Instead, I have met Mark Singleton and really like him. Nonetheless, my knowledge of Yoga is very limited, I only read in Sanskrit the Yogasūtra and the Yogadarśana is not within my closest interests. Long story short, I would have certainly financed a project on Mīmāṃsā, or on the epistemology of testimony or on other similar topics, whereas I tend to think that Yoga-scholars have their own ways to get financed (such as Yoga schools, journals, etc.) and they do not need me. However, after hesitating for some weeks I finally decided to support the project, if only with a relatively small amount of money. Why?

1. 1. Because we can no longer count on state-funding for research. Mark and Jim have been brave enough to try a different way and this is in itself valuable.

1. 2. Because their project is well-presented and realistic.
2. Because the project almost reached the sum it needs to get actually funded. After having reached 45,000 dollars, not getting funded because of only 5,000 dollars is just depressing.
3. 3. Because I cannot expect other people to finance research in Mīmāṃsā if I am not ready to help research in other fields:-)

The project has only got 3 more days to go and it has not yet reached the total amount needed to get the funding. Thus, if you have some spare 25 dollars (or more), consider funding the project and help a new way of doing Indological research.

You can find the link to the project here.

If you actively decide to fund or NOT to fund the project, I would really appreciate reading your arguments for it. Which other projects (South Asian or unrelated) did you ever fund? What do you think of fund-raising in these fields? And of Mark and Jim's presentation of their project?

As for my personal essays of raising moneys for Indological projects, see this post. For my considerations on the end of state-funded research, see this post.

Differences between metarules in Grammar, Śrautasūtras and Mīmāṃsā

The following table summarises the main distinction between metarules in Śrautasūtras, Mīmāṃsā and Grammar:
 

With "close system'' I mean the fact that the paribhāṣās found in the Śrautasūtras are only meant to throw light on further parts of the same text. This is not the case of Mīmāṃsā. As for Grammar, its paribhāṣās seem to be meant for the Grammatical system only (it is only in the Aṣṭādhyāyī that the locative is used to indicate the preceding item), but the way Patañjali justifies some of them, linking them to worldly usages suggests that some of them have a general validity. A further distinction lies in the precise meaning of paribhāṣā as meta-rule in Grammar. As already hinted at (see this post), Mīmāṃsaka nyāyas may be not meta-rules, but just rules.

On paribhāṣās, see also this post and this one (be sure to read the interestng comments as well as the less interesting post).

What was the intellectual background before our first śāstras?

Do the similarities in the treatment of paribhāṣās (metarules) in Śrautasūtra, Mīmāṃsā and Grammar lead to the conclusion that Grammar, Śrautasūtra and Mīmāṃsā share a common prehistory or is the one indebted to the other? Dominik Wujastyk, in the Introduction to his edition of Vyāḍi's Paribhāṣāvṛtti, implicitly suggests a common prehistory, with possibly the Mīmāṃsā preceding Grammar in the usage of paribhāṣās:

It is a moot point whether or not Pāṇini actually had some of these paribhāṣās in mind as he composed his grammar; probably he did have at least some of them in mind, whether explicitly or not. A study of the earliest \emph{mīmāṃsā} from this point of view might throw some light on this question (Wujastyk 1993, p. xii).

In his PhD thesis, Sharon Ben-Dor, quoting Vashishtha Jhā, suggests that the direction of borrowing is from Mīmāṃsā to Grammar. All these authors leave the Śrautasūtras out of the picture:

Actually, the Pūrvamīmāṃsā can be viewed as the discipline that established this method. According to Jha, this discipline is a system that deals with principles (nyāyas) of textual interpretation for texts whose authors were no longer present. He adds that these principles were used by all the Indian philosophical systems, and argues that all the systems are indebted to Pūrvamīmāṃsā because it has provided the tools to interpret a text (Jha 1992: 2). [\dots] In respect to Kātyāyana, some scholars have indicated the close relationship between the vārttikas in the Mahābhāṣya and the Mīmāṃsāsūtra of Jaimini, and it is likely that some of the interpretive principles mentioned by Kātyāyana are adopted from this discipline. […] [W]hat is evident is that already in the time of Kātyāyana, this method of referring to daily life activities for interpreting a text was an established and accepted practice among Indian scholars (Ben-Dor 2009, pp.8--9).

This last element does, in fact, incline one to think that it might have been possible for Mīmāṃsā to influence Grammar rather than the other way round. For it is Mīmāṃsakas who trust ordinary experience, whereas Pāṇini tends to build a consistent system which only refers to ordinary linguistic use and it is not clear why other ordinary usages could bear any influence on the Aṣṭādhyāyī.

On paribhāṣās, see this post, which displays also further links on a possible common prehistory.

Metarules in Śrautasūtra, Mīmāṃsā and Grammar

Pāṇini's Grammar is well-known (among other things) for its highly sophisticated complex of rules and meta-rules. However, meta-rules are present also in Śrautasūtra and in Mīmāṃsā.

The meaning of paribhāṣā is –against expectations– not fixed. As for its usage in the Śrautasūtras, Chakrabarti explains:

The term paribhāṣā was not well-defined and it appears that no definition was strictly adhered to when the sūtras were characterizes as paribhāṣā. Not only the basic interpretative clues, but also the general rules were regarded as paribhāṣā. They contain some heterogeneous topics, and some insignificant rules too crept into the paribhāṣās (Chabrabarti1980, p. vii).

As for Grammar, Dominik Wujastyk (editor of the Vyāḍīyaparibhāṣāvṛtti) argues that paribhāṣās have been introduced for solving problems of the Aṣṭādhyāyī and suggests that they might have, accordingly, a different degree of abstraction:

Rather than giving up Pāṇini's grammar as wrong in such cases, it is natural to try to improve the theory. The tradition introduces extra rules to correct the situation. These are the paribhāṣās, a term which may be translated as 'metarules', 'principles', 'theorems' or 'auxiliary hypothesis' (Wujastyk1993, p. ix).

In Mīmāṃsā, by and large, we might understand the term paribhāṣā (and even more so its quasi-equivalent in Mīmāṃsā, i.e., nyāya) in two senses: in a loose or in a technical sense.  In the looser sense, a nyāya is a general rule regarding a certain behaviour. In the stricter sense, it is a rule ruling other rules. An example of the former kind of nyāya is the Mīmāṃsaka khalekapotavan-nyāya 'the rule of the pigeons in the threshing floor'. This is only a similarity used to represent cases in which many items at once occur in the same place, just like pigeons hurrying to grasp some grains. But it does not regard rules. By contrast, rules such as 'the meanings of the words in the Mīmāṃsāsūtra are the same as in the ordinary communication' (in Śābarabhāṣya ad Mīmāṃsāsūtra 1.1.1) is a rule which applies to other rules, the ones mentioned in the MS.
Although the technical usage of nyāyas derives from the looser one, it is convenient to distinguish between the two. In order to be a meta-rule, a rule needs to refer to further rules. Since the main focus of the Mīmāṃsā is the Veda, rules regarding it directly do not need to be meta-rules. By contrast, meta-rules are rules ruling a certain exegetical rule. For instance, all rules applying to other rules of the Mīmāṃsāsūtra, or all rules applying to an exegetical rule discussed in the ritualistic thought prior to the Mīmāṃsāsūtra.



For other cases testifying a common prehistory shared by Śrautasūtras, Grammar and Mīmāṃsā authors, see this post (on tantra), this and this one (on prasaṅga, the latter discusses a metarule, i.e., "an exception counts more than the general rule").

IIGRS 4

In the last three years I was surprisingly glad to attend and participate to two of the three IIGRS conferences. The rationale behind it is to give younger researchers the chance to present their papers in a scientific environment, but the result was by far much better than that: In fact, the first and second IIGRS (International Indological Graduate Seminar) have been a big success and we all enjoyed coming together and discussing for hours before and after every paper. (I was not there at the third IIGRS, but I guess the same happened there, too. A participant even told me that the third one was the best one.)

In most cases, the too vague label "Indology" did not hinder fruitful discussions and, on the other hand, the age-group (within 5 years since the end of one's PhD) was well-cut in order to select people who are (still? :( ) desirous to exchange ideas, develop new trends of research, welcome challenges and engage in new approaches.

I wonder why is it so difficult to keep oneself open towards this kind of chances? Why do we increasingly tend to close ourselves into our own studies –only to complain about our isolation later? Whatever the answer, the IIGRS remains a unique chance to interact, challenge and be challenged.

This year, the seminar will be hosted in Edinburgh, September the 4th-5th 2012. The deadline for applying has just expired –at the end of May– but there might be some free slots left, due to Visa problems and similar cases.

vastu on the epistemological and ontological level in Jayanta

vastu is often used in śāstric Sanskrit as a loose term meaning ‘object’ in a not necessarily concrete way. It has nothing of the intrinsic concreteness of a piṇḍa. Unlike artha (about which see this post), it is not linked to a linguistic expression and unlike artha it is necessarily epistemologically sound. Cf., for instance, in Jayanta's Nyāyamañjarī, the following statement by a Buddhist opponent, opposing vastu and artha, with the latter being much vaguer:

Thus, when conceptual cognitions, which lack contact with external entities (vastu), appear, people have the erroneous conception: “I have cognized an external object (artha), and I have taken action towards it, and I have obtained it”. This [erroneous conception] is not, in fact, based on determining [the conceptually cognized] as an [external] object (evaṃ bāhyavastusaṃsparśaśūnyeṣu vikalpeṣu samullasiteṣu ``bāhyo 'rtho mayā pratipannaḥ, tatra cāhaṃ pravṛttaḥ, sa ca mayā prāptaḥ" ity abhimāno bhavati laukikānām (NM 5, section 4.4, Kataoka2009c, p. 460, translation in Watson and Kataoka (in the proceedings of the apoha workshop, about which see this post)).

Or, similarly, at the end of the same section:

But [apohas] are different from [universals] in that the former are not real entities (vastu).

vastu is less vague than viṣaya, which might refer to each knowledge content, be it the content of an actual instance of cognition or also the sphere of application (like gocara) of a future or hypothetical one. In his polemics against the Buddhists on the existence of universals, vastu is used by the Buddhists and Jayanta with the same sense, although with a different referent. In fact, both agree that vastu is the real entity actually known during an act of valid cognition. However, they disagree as for its identification. For the Buddhists, only the ultimate particular, the svalakṣaṇa, is a vastu (i.e., only the svalakṣaṇa is the real object grasped by a valid act of cognition), whereas for Jayanta a vastu can also recur and be either an individual or a universal (see scheme below, section 4.2). Consequently, the vastu is intrinsically simple for the Buddhists, whereas it might be also complex for Jayanta (which on this point is following Kumārila). The following excerpt is from the Buddhist objector, who starts with a sarcastic remark about the multiform vastu upheld by realists such as Kumārila:

The same thing which is universal, is a particular, the same thing which is one, is many, the same thing which is perpetual, is impermanent, the same thing which exists does not exists: these are [just] the remainders of the Jains!
And even while it is being said, it is non-appropriate.
If you (Kumārila) say that there is no contradiction because [universal and particular] have been seen, [we reply that] it is not so, because they are not perceived as such |
In fact, it has been said that the eye-perception (netradhī) does not grasp an artha that recurs ||

Some pages later, Jayanta replies:

As for what has been said, namely that “It is illogical that in a single object (vastu) two contradictory aspects (rūpa) simultaneously occur”, that is also wrong. […]
Like the distinction of colours occurs in regard to a variegated [spot], |
in the same way, one also distinguishes similarities and differences because of the manifoldness of an object (vastu) ||
Hence, since one distinguishes similarities and differences in this non contradictory way, |
objects (vastu) must have a double nature, like in the opinion of the Bhaṭṭa (Kumārila) || 

vāstava is used in NM 5 when Jayanta replies to the Buddhist criticism of the universal (jāti). Whereas the Buddhist considered the universal as an unwarranted conceptualisation, Jayanta answers that it is real (vāstava):

Even at the first connection of the sense faculty [with its object] one understands the sameness [of two or more individuals] |
and [their] manifoldness. Hence, commonness and difference are both real ||

Thus, the universal is real, i.e., it belongs to the thing (vastu) itself. It does not, however, belong to the concrete individual (piṇḍa), in which it is rather present (vṛt-). The vastu is thus the real object, the one which is rightly ascertained through a correct use of our instruments of knowledge. To this vastu belong the aspects of individuality and universality, insofar as they can be ascertained through instruments of knowledge.


Do readers have different opinions about the usage of vastu in other authors?On artha in Jayanta, see this post. On the apoha workshop and Jayanta, see this post. On Jayanta in general, see this post.

artha, meaning and reference in Jayanta

artha is a very common term in śāstric Sanskrit and it is at times difficult to see what is Jayanta's distinctive usage of it.
He, in fact, inherits from the Nyāya and Mīmāṃsā systems an epistemological usage of artha in the context of the definition of perceptual knowledge, as meaning 'the real object of a valid piece of cognition'. In the context of linguistic usage, in the śāstric usage preceding Jayanta, artha tends to define the meaning of a word, often considered to be identical with its referent. This does not mean, however, that this artha is a concrete individual.
For instance, in a passage (NM 5, section 3.2.4 in Kataoka 2010), Jayanta states that although the universal is present only within an individual, the two have distinct arthas, thus showing that artha cannot refer to a concrete individual (since there would not be two distinct concrete individuals for vyakti and jāti):

This vṛtti (the presence of the universal in the individual) is the same that [holds] between parts and part-bearer, and between qualities and quality-bearer. Later it will be shown that these two (part and part-bearer and quality and quality-bearer) have different meanings.

 Jayanta rather inquires on what makes something into the content of an epistemic or of a linguistic act. What is the feature which makes an object fit to be grasped? Jayanta's explicit answer (again, in NM 5) will be that the object of a linguistic expression is the vyakti tadvān, i.e., the individual insofar as it is endowed with the characters which make it part of a universal. This is, consequently, the meaning of artha for Jayanta (whether this interpretation holds true for his predecessors and successors is still to be verified).

Do you have different views about the usage of artha in this or other authors? 


On Jayanta, see this post and this one. On artha in Indian thought, see this post and a remark in this one.

Commentaries and novelty in Indian philosophy

Unlike modern Western Philosophy, Indian Philosophy developed chiefly through commenting on older works. Even innovations were mostly conveyed (or rather ‘concealed’?) through the re-thinking of someone else’s words. From what precedes it is obvious that a comment does not always furnish an absolutely reliable interpretation of the text it is commenting on. Nevertheless, it shows us the way, say, xvii century readers read that work and interpreted it.

Therefore, I agree with Eli Franco that before refusing the interpretations we find in comments, we must provide very sound reasons:

First, does this interpretation fit within the immediate context of the verse? Second, was the verse interpreted in this manner by any of Dharmakīrti’s commentators, and if not, why is the traditional interpretation to be rejected? 

Franco adds a third interesting point:

Third, does Dharmakīrti actually attempt to establish the validity of perception and inference by relying on the authority of the Buddha? (Franco 1999:65)

This third point amounts to verifying if the author one is dealing with actually implements the principles one seeks to recognise in his work.

On the risk of relying on commentaries, see this post.

Does the Veda have an "author"?

Traditionally, the Veda is said to have been "seen" by some ancient sages, the ṛṣis and the term ṛṣi is analysed as derived from the root dṛś- `to see'.. The Nyāyasūtra and its commentary reproduce this claim and discuss the reliability of the Veda's seers (draṣṭṛ).
One might wonder why are they not called just ''authors''. Does this terminological choice mean that they saw something which already existed before they saw it?
A preliminary answer is that even the Sanskrit words for ''author'' (such as upadeṣṭṛ) tend to emphasise a person ability to put together words, or to teach them, rather than her ability to fully invent something. Moreover, the Veda is not a fictional work, and accordingly its ''authors'' can be said to have ''seen'' it in a way comparable to what one could say about a non-fictional writer, like a natural scientist, who ''perceived'' the truth of a certain law and later put it down in a text which cannot be said to be her ''invention''.

Non-ontological approach in Mīmāṃsā

What is prescriptive (normative) and what is just descriptive in the Brāhmaṇas and in Mīmāṃsā?

Elaborating on the identifications frequent in the Brāhmaṇas, Lars Göhler (Reflexion und Ritual in der Pūrvamīmāṃsā, 2011) writes:

Mylius (1976:146) writes that the [identifications in the Brāhmaṇas, E.F.] are based on the desire to systematise reality. The style and formulation of these identifications hint, however, also at a further purpose: The Brahmans did not just ascertain such identities, they conjured up them: in the identifications there is not only an ''is'', but also an ''ought''.

(Mylius (1976:146) schreibt, dass ihnen der Wunsch, die objektive Realität zu systematisieren, zugrunde lag. Stil und Formulierung dieser Identifikationen deuten aber noch auf eine weitere Absicht hin: die Brahmanen haben diese Identitäten nicht nur festgestellt, sie haben sie geschworen: In den Identifikationen findet sich nicht nur ein ''Sein'', sondern auch ein ''Sollen'', Göhler 2011: 20).

This harmonises with the caution against a default ontological interpretation pronounced by Göhler at the beginning of his book. Moreover, it throws some light on the prescriptive approach to the Veda which is typical of Mīmāṃsā. If one focuses on how the Brāhmaṇas and then the speculation on them do not merely describe reality, but rather prescribe how this should be, some of the striking peculiarities of Mīmāṃsā (and of Indian philosophy), such as the complex semantics of artha, meaning at the same time 'object' and 'purpose', become clearer. A little bit later, Göhler convincingly argues that also pramāṇa has in Mīmāṃsā a rather normative meaning (''Damit gehört Pramāṇa eher in die Nähe von Gültigkeitsbegriffen im Sinne von 'normativ gültig' oder 'handlungsverbindlich' '' (Göhler 2011: 36). Even MS 1.1.4, with its rejection of sense perception as instrument to know dharma is audaciously re-interpreted by Göhler from a non-descriptive perspective. The sūtra states that sense perception is animitta. This is usually understood as meaning that it is not the cause of the knowledge of dharma. By contrast, Göhler stresses the ritual background of nimitta and translates as follows: ''it does not promote (a ritual action creating something new)'' ("[…] sie veranlasst nicht (eine rituelle Tätigkeit, die etwas Neues schafft)'', Göhler 2011: 38).

In my opinion, the opposition between a descriptive and a prescriptive approach is a fundamental one when looking at Mīmāṃsā and possibly at Indian philosophy in general. A prescriptive meaning, further, cannot be interpreted through a direct-realist lens, insofar as it cannot directly correspond to an external state of affairs already existing at the moment the sentence referring to it is uttered. In other words, this is a further case of a non-ontological approach current in Indian philosophical texts (the topic has been recently discussed in this very interesting post by Jayarava).

What do readers think? Further evidences of non-ontological approaches?

15th World Sanskrit Conference —general considerations

It was a great experience to be in India for this WSC. Beside the sheer fact of being in India, the following ones are, in my opinion, the plus points we could experience. I am listing them in increasing order of importance:

1. 1. great theater performances every night.
2. 2. many Indians (who are often not able to reach expensive locations in the West or in Japan) could come. Hence, the many facets of Sanskrit studies could interact a little bit more, or at least have a glimpse of what was going on "abroad" (i.e., in places different from one's own one, whatever this is).
3. 3. we could listen to a lot of stimulating debates held in Sanskrit, held by some terrificly interesting paṇḍits.

The minus points are those intrinsic to each WSC, i.e., the extreme heterogeneity of the subjects involved (is the fact that they happen to involve Sanskrit really enough to discuss them in the same occasion?), the awful numbers of parallel sections (so that one could get only a snippet of what was really going on), the fact that the time allotted for each paper was comparatively short and that there were too many papers per day (12, with each one having max. 30' time, inclusive of discussion). Further, notwithstanding the excellent convenors, several uninteresting papers crept in. I tend to be encouraging when young researchers are too emotional to deliver a good speech, but I cannot understand how they made their way into an international conference without any previous experience. Would not it make better sense to start "training" in an undergraduate conference (such as the excellent IIGRS)?

Generally speaking, I would prefer less speakers and more time for discussion. After all, we all went a long way and we did it not just for some 3 to 10 minutes feedback at the end of our papers. One might object that one's paper is usually just the beginning of an on-going discussion which will find place during coffee-breaks etc. I agree. Yet, I wonder why not to include the coffee breaks into the conference, or, better, to just make the conference look like a relaxed coffee break discussion.

In case you attended, which were your favourite papers and why? What would you change?

All the posts of the first two weeks of January 2012 are dedicated to the WSC. You might check this one (on discussions in Sanskrit) and the following four on single papers: Lubin's, Cardona's, McAllister's, Iwasaki's.

World Sanskrit Conference 5 — paṇḍitapariṣat

Today I tried to listen to as much Sanskrit as I could, imagining that this a chance I will not easily get back again in a close future. Unfortunately, I missed a lot, but fortunately no one really read his or her paper (I miss almost everything if people read in Sanskrit). Plus, the discussions were lively and relatively easier to follow.
One of the points of debate was the future of Sanskrit studies. Some speakers have been courageous enough as to say that one has to include new fields of study in the old tradition, which seems to me to be a brave statement. In fact, the faculty to add more topics and to make sense of them within one's own tradition testifies of how much alive the tradition is. An intriguing remark has been that the present one is not the first parivarta (turning point) in the history of Sanskrit śāstras. Bhartṛhari has been a parivarta after Pāṇini, Kātyāyana and Patañjali and the same could be said of so many innovative authors.
By contrast, one can easily see how much endangered is the Sanskrit heritage. It is easy to imagine that the relatively few people who are its representatives might be reluctant to undertake further studies about (seemingly) alien subjects and might prefer to focus on the preservation of such an important lore.
I am inclined to think that hybridization is the only way to survival, but I see their point.
What do you think?

For an instance of a field of Sanskrit tradition which grew up including more and more (namely the dharmaśāstra), see this post.