Aikaśāstrya: what does it mean?

I am still puzzled by the details of the problem of  एेकशास्त्र्य (aikaśāstrya). It literally means 'unity of the teaching', but what does 'teaching' (śāstra) refer to? And how close is the unity spoken of?

Rāmānuja mentions the unity of Pūrva and Uttara Mīmāṃsā, but then seems to care more for the unity of the Veda, which would mean the unity of Upaniṣad and Brāhmaṇa parts. And the unity of the Veda seems to be his chief argument in favour of the unity of Pūrva and Uttara Mīmāṃsā. Veṅkaṭanātha stresses much more the unity of Pūrva and Uttara Mīmāṃsā for their own sake, with the addition of the Saṅkarṣa Khaṇḍa, four supplementary chapters of the Mīmāṃsāsūtra about which I do not know whether they were considered as distinct from the Mīmāṃsāsūtra also by Veṅkaṭanātha's predecessors (the Vṛttikāra speaks of the 16 chapters of the Mīmāṃsāsūtra, thus including in it the Saṅkarṣa Khaṇḍa).

Further, should aikaśāstrya be a single "school of thought" (darśana) or a single text? In other words, do Rāmānuja and Veṅkaṭanātha aim at the unity of Jaimini's Mīmāṃsāsūtra and Bādarāyaṇa's Vedāntasūtra or at the unity of Mīmāṃsā and Vedānta, or both? Veṅkaṭanātha's works contain indications for both theses, since they mention the examples of single texts (e.g., the Kāśikā Vṛtti on the Aṣṭādhyāyī in Śatadūṣaṇī 3), but also of systems (Vyākaraṇa, again in ŚD 3).


Do you know of other instances of aikaśāstrya, referring to a text or to a system?


For further posts on Veṅkaṭanātha see this one (and its links).

Nārāyaṇārya, Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta and Mīmāṃsā —UPDATED

Nārāyaṇārya was a Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedāntin author whose only (as far as I know) extant work is the Nītimālā. Already this work shows some of his basic tenets:

1. 1. the focus on Pūrva Mīmāṃsā (the Nītimālā has a long section on Vedic prescriptions*).
2. 2. the attempt to reinterpret Pūrva Mīmāṃsā according to the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta tenets (Vedic prescriptions are read as orders of God*).

In this sense, Nārāyaṇārya is among the ones who paved the way to Veṅkaṭanātha (aka Vedānta Deśika) and it is no surprise that Veṅkaṭanātha often refers to him while justifying his attempt to interpret Mīmāṃsā and Vedānta as a single śāstra. However, Veṅkaṭanātha's use of Nārāyaṇārya includes a possible problem, i.e., the fact that Nārayaṇārya allegedly authored a text in which he dealt with only 500 of the adhikaraṇas of the Pūrva Mīmāṃsā Sūtra. Since Veṅkaṭanātha wants to say that all adhikaraṇas are to be accepted, he needs to justify Nārāyaṇārya's move as a sign of his being an advanced scholar. In this connection, he quotes the following verse, seemingly from Nārāyaṇārya:

adhyasya vyākriyādoṣaṃ ye sūtram api tatyajuḥ |
prāyaḥ sphaṭikam apy ete jahyur eva japābhramāt ||

Which seems to mean:

The ones who, after having themselves superimposed (adhyasya) a fault (doṣa) in [the sūtra's] analysis (vyākriyā) abandoned even a sūtra,
these would in general, abandon even a crystal [although the faults are not in the crystal, but have only been superimposed on it], because of a fault in the China rose (behind it).

Now, the simile can be understood as follows: the errors are not in the Pūrva Mīmāṃsā Sūtra themselves, but in their later commentators (beginning with Śabara) and one only superimposes them on the PMS, just like the faults one seems to see in a crystal are only the faults of something else, behind it.

On Vedānta Deśika, see this post (and its links).

*about which, see the excellent thesis by Himal Trikha.

Workshop on Veṅkaṭanātha: Updates

Veṅkaṭanātha's Perspective on Mīmāṃsā

Datum:	Wed-Thu, 12–13 June, 10am – 5pm
Ort:	Institut für Kultur- und Geistesgeschichte Asiens, Seminarraum 1
	Apostelgasse 23, 1030 Wien
Organisation:	Elisa Freschi; Marion Rastelli; Marcus Schmücker (IKGA)

Thema/ Topic

The workshop will focus on Veṅkaṭanātha's (1269–1370) approach to Mīmāṃsā through the works he dedicated to this school, i.e., Seśvaramīmāṃsā, Mīmāṃsāpādukā and, secondarily, Śatadūṣaṇī.
Veṅkaṭanātha was the foremost systematizer of the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta and immensely contributed to its positioning within the Indian philosophical landscape, while still presenting his contribution as doing nothing more than explicating his predecessors' position. In particular, he chose to introduce the Mīmāṃsā within the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta, notwithstanding the fact that the Viśiṣṭādvaita Vedānta is essentially a Vaiṣṇava school, whereas the Mīmāṃsā is usually regarded as atheistic. Veṅkaṭanātha further needed to take into account his predecessors' (chiefly Yamuna and Rāmānuja) sceptical standpoint on Mīmāṃsā.
Parallel passages dealing with selected topics in the three texts will be read in the original Sanskrit and analysed, with a particular focus on Veṅkaṭanātha's innovations in his interpretation of Mīmāṃsā and on his solutions to the problems hinted at above.

Topics to be dealt with:

—aikaśāstrya (the unity of Mīmāṃsā and Vedānta): beginning of Seśvaramīmāṃsā, section 3 of Śatadūṣaṇī, Mīmāṃsāpādukā vv. 5--14
(if there is enough time:)
—does one study (Mīmāṃsā) out of desire? Seśvaramīmāṃsā ad 1.1.1, Mīmāṃsāpādukā v. 3

Texts to be read and editions used:

For the Seśvaramīmāṃsā and the Mīmāṃsāpādukā: 1971 edition, Ubhaya Vedānta Granthamālā.
For the Śatadūṣaṇī: 2004 edition edited by Śaṭhakoparāmānuja Tātāyāryadāsa. Chennai.

NB: Scans of the relevant texts can be received from Elisa Freschi. Hard copies will be distributed at the beginning of the workshop.


The workshop will be conducted by Larry McCrea. 

Why comparing?

My first answer is simple: because it is unavoidable. We learn by comparing the unknown to the known and avoiding comparisons only means avoiding explicit comparisons, while one keeps on comparing within oneself.
An additional reason is that comparing makes one's convictions less sure:

By the sheer fact of the accumulation of juxtapositions, this book makes both traditions more exposed, open to scrutiny, and freed for imaginative experimentation (Francis X. Clooney, Divine Mother, Blessed Mother: Hindu Goddesses and the Virgin Mary, p. 24).

 The third reason is that at times one does learn something unexpected and yet true by seeing A through the lenses of B.

What are your reasons for comparing or not comparing?

For my personal campaign against implicit assumptions, see this post. On Clooney's approach to comparativism, see this post. For my first post on comparison (in Italian), see this one.

Why do you write?

I am always busy with several collaborative projects (the Coffee Break Conference one, organizing panels for other conferences, editing a collective volume on textual re-use and so on) and this makes me encounter and collaborate with many other scholars. Once, after having heavily edited an article which I though was too weak (lacking a structure and repeating the same points randomly), I received as an answer that

"Your proposals are valid and stimulating and can certainly make the end-product effective, but they obviously make it into your product, not mine"

Now, I know, editors and authors will always argue. I also know that authors might be too sensitive about their own wording, etc., and that I might have been too "cruel" in cutting repetitions and the like. But let me now just focus on the (unwritten) background assumption of this sort of answers:

I write articles in order to express myself. To me, they are like my work of art. And no one has the right to tell a painter that she should paint in a different way, if this is not her way.

This is, to me, striking. I do not write articles to express myself (for that, I use blogposts, comments, emails and the like). I write articles to communicate ideas in an effective way. If someone can find a better way, one that is clearer and takes into account possible objections, I might probably resist, but in an argumented way (e.g., by saying that she has misunderstood my point X at line Z, or that her changes make my argument vulnerable to objection Y), and not because MY product has been violated.
Moreover, I (optimistically, I agree) see my articles as part of a collective enterprise (e.g. "enhancing the historical understanding of the philosphy of testimony" or "making Indian philosophy part of 'philosophy' tout court"). The end-result is, thus, for me much more important than the tools which will lead to it. In sum,

I write articles in order to contribute to the discussion of a problem. My articles are instrumental to something else and not an end-in-themselves. 

I should now add that I have nothing against the first approach. I will just try to avoid collaborating too closely with someone upholding it, as our different views will inevitably clash.

How do you feel about your articles and books? Why and for whom do you write?

For my collaborative projects, see here and here (on the Coffee Break Project), here (philosophy of Testimony), here (volume on quotations), here (my next projects) and here (my free reviews).

Why should philosophers study Indian philosophy?

If you have ever tried to ask a philosopher, why he never even tried to start reading about Indian philosophy, you surely know his/her answer: I have already too much to do with Western philosophy! (In the worst case, s/he might even just say "I have already too much to do with philosophy").

Here is how the scholar of Buddhist philosophy Jay Garfield replies to this argument (my emphasis):

3:AM: One of the issues you raise is the ethics of approaches to intellectual and cultural traditions less powerful and less respected than the Western ones. How should we think about this?
JLG: Easy. Suppose that someone argued that the philosophical curriculum in their college could not include any texts by women, because there are just so many important books by men, and not enough time to address all of them, let alone to go on to read stuff by women, or that the faculty is not expert in women’s philosophy. He would be howled down not on the grounds that there are indeed not too many books by guys, but that given a history of sexism, it is immoral as well as irrational to ignore the contributions of women in the curriculum. But people get away with saying that their department can’t offer courses that address non-Western philosophy because they are struggling to cover the “core,” that students have so much Western philosophy to learn that they don’t have time to read the non-Western stuff, and that there are no specialists in non-Western philosophy in the department. In the wake of colonialism and in the context of racism, the only legitimate response is to howl them down.

As far as I am concerned, I usually do not stress the fact that it is immoral, and that the West has a debt to pay because of centuries of racism. Rather, I tend to stress the fact that, as in the case of female philosophers, it runs against one's own interests to exclude from the philosophical debate so many important authors. If we want the discipline to advance, it would just be foolish not to take advantage of the many fresh insights we can gain from a different philosophical tradition.

What are your reasons when you explain why Sanskrit/Pāli/Tibetan/… philosophy/history/litetature/linguistics… have to be part of the normal curricula?

I am thankful to Justin Whitaker who, in this post, pointed to the interview. The full interview can be found here.

"How do you find ideas for your articles?"

from http://launchamerica.org

I  never had this problem. Rather, I often feel overwhelmed by the many ideas which, I fear, will remain orphan because I will die before having been able to dedicate some time and attention to them. But if I were to look at myself from without, I would answer the problem as follows:
I read many primary texts and since I focus on Sanskrit philosophy, they are by rule immediately able to let me look at old questions with new eyes (e.g., in the case of the epistemology of testimony), or to ask new questions altogether (e.g., how can an atheist school of thought accommodate belief in God?).
I get the same feeling whenever I am able to go back to Western texts with some distance, for instance, because they are chronologically, thematically or stylistically far away (e.g., reading Orthodox theology, or Augustine's dialogues, or some of Derrida…). With new questions and new ways to look at the world, I never had the problem to look for new ideas, rather, I have often the feeling of having too many for a single life (which does not mean that they are philosophically sound).
Discussing with colleagues and friends is also a constant source of inspiration.

UPDATE: I once asked this question to a senior and learned colleague, who seems to share my feeling, since he answered: "I do not look for ideas, they pursue me!" and then added "If this is not the case, just quit!".


What about you? Do new ideas follow you, no matter where you try to flee? Or do you actively look for them? And where?

This paper has been triggered by this one on the Philosophers' Cocoon.