Professor Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya as a Researcher

G. Ramakrishna

 

A prolific author and a versatile researcher, Professor Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya is among those who gave a qualitative turn to the methods and content of research in more disciplines than one. Essentially a student of Philosophy – Indian and Western - he has authored quite a few authentic works in the area of Philosophy, works which have established themselves as both scholarly and popular. They have been taken quite seriously by the world of scholarship not only in our country but also in several other countries. One indication of this is the numerous translations of his works in different languages, Indian and foreign. His works on medical science in ancient India as also his three volumes on the history of science and technology in ancient India stand as evidence for his signal contribution to historiography. Besides, he has distinguished himself as a stalwart among Marxist philosophers through any number of works directly dealing with the enunciations and application of the Marxist philosophy. He is reputed to have produced copious handbooks on a variety of topics related to science, history and literature, particularly for children and novices in the respective fields during his early years as an author. As G. Nagakumar has put it, “the value of his work lies in the insights it provides into the history, philosophy, science and social movements of India through the ages. He was not interested in merely cataloguing academic facts, but in providing powerful ideological weapons for the masses in the struggle for social, cultural and economic change in our country.” (The Observer of Business and Politics , 21.05.1993)

 

Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya

Born on 19^th November 1918, Debiprasad breathed his last on 8^th May 1993 after a 75 year long formidable innings of creativity, fruitful and avid research, and extensive authorship. The first volume of his History of Science and Technology : Ancient India (Calcutta, 1986) came as welcome rains on the parched earth smeared with imprecise and at times chauvinistic formulations of what passed for science and history. The postulates of our ancient scientists, their method of scientific pursuit, and how they arrived at them were hardly ever given a cogent exposition. Not relating the empirical observations and scientific experiments of the early era with the social compulsions of the respective periods left many a historian in an unenviable position. This lacuna was exceptionally made up by Professor Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya who explored the dimensions of science and the potentials of science between the period of first urbanization in Harappa and Mohenjodaro and the second during the Mauryan period. In 1991 appeared the second volume, reviewing which, Robert Temple said in the reputed journal Nature (vol. 353, 5^th September 1991) as follows: “ This is more than a book on the history of science. It grapples directly with the issues of whether India is to have any future or not. Chattopadhyaya is a brave man, and he has tackled the fundamental problem head on: he shows the history of Hindu obscurantism that has suppressed the rise of science in India through the ages – the implications for the present are clear.”

Chattopadhyaya was somewhat of an anathema for many orthodox and conservative scholars and they sensed that the carpet was being drawn from under their feet by this irreverent defender of the best in Indian tradition. That was rather paradoxical insofar as the intention of destabilizing wholesome thought in the context of ancient India was farthest from Debiprasad’s mind. One had only to listen to him, or else read him, to realise how justifiably proud he was about the richness of Indian tradition in certain respects, be it Harappan civilization, Vedic poetry or Upanishadic thought. He mustered courage and hard facts to openly claim that Uddalaka Aruni of Chandogya Upanishad fame was the first experimental scientist that the world knows of. He said it to no less a person than Joseph Needham, the most authentic chronicler of the Culture and Civilisation of Ancient China in eight volumes, and the latter had to accept it in the face of the evidence that Uddalaka, the Upanishadic celebrity of the seventh or eighth century B.C., held to a position of “essentially a rational knowledge based on observation and even experiment.” 

 

Having started his career as a college teacher in Bombay in the 1940’s, Chattopadhyaya moved over to the City College in Kolkata very soon and remained there till the late 1970’s when he opted out of the job to devote himself to whole-time research and writing. Much earlier, in the 1950’s he had gone to London to work in the British Museum as also to obtain direct guidance through discussions with George Thomson, the tallest scholar in ancient Greek studies in Cambridge and subsequently in Birmingham. On an allowance which hardly sufficed for a hand to mouth existence, he struggled on in England and produced an unconventional masterly book on ancient Indian materialism, named, Lokayata (1959). It was his first major work which launched him on the national and international philosophical scene in a big way. Even earlier, as already mentioned, he had made a name as a poet and also as an author on a variety of subjects for children in Bengali. The methodology as also the reconstruction of the evolution of ancient Indian society that Lokayata provided won its author a number of academic friends and foes.

It will be a futile venture to summarise the works of Debiprasad in a brief talk or in an article running into only a few pages. Equally difficult will it be to evaluate his works and contributions in a summary fashion. It is, therefore, proposed to highlight only a few aspects of his work and its methodology by way of an introduction for further studies by those who have the inclination for it.

Debiprasad made abundant use of both anthropology and archaeology in his studies. In his first major work, namely, the Lokayata, there is, for example, a chapter (ch. 2) entitled ‘The Chanting Dogs’. Scholars have been in a quandary as to what the episode in the Chandogya Upanishad, where the dogs figure and where they are presented as singing and dancing, actually signifies. Many are so amused by the episode that they dismiss the entire thing as being at best a take on the priests. Something like a humourous imitation of what the priests go through in the course of a sacrifice at a particular juncture. The passage in the Chandogya (1.12) is quite simple. Baka Dalbhya, also called ‘the grieving Maitreya (Glaava Maitreya), witnessed a white dog being accosted by a few other dogs with a request to get them some food by singing, whereupon the white dog asked the other dogs to be there the next day. Daalbhya arrived at the spot the next day to watch the proceedings, curious as he was. So did the dogs to enact the dance while singing. The dogs started going round and round, one behind the other, and then produced some sounds saying “Let us eat, let us drink, let us have food, ye gods.” The chanting and dancing closely resembled the chanting of the Saamans by the priests in a sacrifice. Some scholars even presumed that the dogs were holding each others’ tails, though there is hardly any tail referred to by the Upanishad. Even Shankaracharya had interpreted it more or less the same way while pointing out that the Upanishad decries elaborate formal rituals in order to uphold the importance of pure knowledge, as against rituals, to obtain liberation. Debiprasad was the very first to see the episode in a new light. Anthropology came to his help to recognize the dogs as men whose totem is the dog. He then dug out other references to men as dogs in Kautilya’s Arthashastra, the Harivamsha and the Mahabharata. For Kautilya, men who slave like dogs for their masters are ‘dogs’, while in the other two texts they are those who belong to a group whose ancestors had a dog for their totem. Totemism is integrally connected with primitive tribes as evidenced from the study of tribes from different parts of the globe. Incidentally, what the dogs are craving for in the Upanishadic passage is food, a dire material need for the sustenance of life. Debiprasad observed that many seers of the Rigveda are identified with their totemic names: as for example, the Kashyapas, Mandukeyas, Shaunakas, Kaushikas, etc., indicating the tortoise, frog, dog, owl, etc. as totems. After all, these seers are descendants of the tribes of yore and they are historically placed at a time when the tribes are gradually getting disintegrated. What is so strange then for a totemic dance accompanied by singing which Baka Dalbhya witnessed? A totemic collective dance of this kind might not have been in practice any more by the time the Upanishad-s came to be composed. The Upanishad has reminisced about a practice which used to be in vogue at some time in the past, remote or recent. Whether or not the priestly ritual bears any resemblance to the totemic dance is beside the point. Does it, however, mean that one could obtain food by dancing like the dogs did? The answer to it again must be sought for in a tribal custom of ancient times when magical fulfilment of the desire would be attained to precede the actual fulfilment of the necessity. And it is a material necessity at that. In the episode of the chanting dogs, the white dog is presumably the elder member of the tribe under whose guidance and leadership the tribe as a whole obtains its food. The song of the ancient tribes is akin to what in later times was a prayer to a god or a group of gods. The tribal ritual is the prototype of the sophisticated sacrificial rituals of later times. Ancient Magic is not quite identical with religion of a later period though they have similarities to a considerable extent. As George Thomson explains, religion “is characterised by belief in God and the practice of prayer or sacrifice. The lowest savages known to us have no gods and know nothing of prayer or sacrifice. Similarly, wherever we can penetrate the prehistory of civilised peoples, we reach a level at which again there are no gods, no prayer or sacrifice. What we find at this level is magic.” And what is the fundamental characteristic of ancient magic? To quote Thomson again, “magic rests on the principle that by creating the illusion that you control reality you can actually control it. In its initial stages it is simply mimetic. You want rain, so you perform a dance in which you mimic the gathering clouds, the thunderclap, and the falling shower. You enact in fantasy the fulfilment of the desired reality. In its later stages the mimetic act may be accompanied by a command, an imperative ‘Rain!’ But it is a command, not a request. This principle of collective compulsion corresponds to a stage of society at which the community is still an undivided whole_, supreme over each and all of its members, presenting a weak but united front against the hostile world of nature.”

Recognition of the said Chandogya passage as a reminiscence of an age old practice of magic not only makes the meaning of the passage clear but tells us abundantly about the nature of the sacrificial rituals as an offshoot of the ancient magical practice. It will thus be possible to understand the Purva Mimamsa system of philosophy cogently. The gods and goddesses to whom apparently sacrificial offerings are made just do not exist according to this system, but nevertheless the fruit of the sacrifice is assured for the sacrificer. That is because of the potency of the ‘word’ or mantra which corresponds to the imprecations in early magic. Besides, the episode of the chanting dogs corroborates part of the ancient Indian materialist tradition for which reason it is that Debiprasad has referred to the episode of the dogs. There is no gainsaying that the interpretation of the episode of the chanting dogs is a significant development in the methodology for studying our ancient texts, philosophical or otherwise. Incidentally, it may be noted that the Rigveda has a number of hymns which in substance have the ingredients of early magic, not to speak of the Atharvaveda where we have any number of hymns which could be regarded as ‘magical’. For example, one may cite RV.10.161 (against consumptive disease called Rajayakshma), 10.162 (against diseases and evil spirits), 10.164 (against bad dreams), 10.166 (against rivals), and so on. From the Atharvaveda one could cite 3.6 (against enemies), 3.7 (against Yakshma), 1.22 (against heart disease), 1.25 (against fever), 5.13 (against serpent bite), etc. 

 

Another innovative method advanced by Debiprasad is what he terms ‘Retrospective Probing’ as a chronological pointer. It is well known that Lokamanya Tilak and H. Jacobi dated the Rigveda to the third or fourth millennium B.C. on the basis of a few passages containing some astronomical data. There are quite a few others who have depended on similar evidences while dating other ancient texts. The question is whether such astronomical data directly corresponds to the period during which it is cited or whether it belongs to a much earlier period than the one in which it has been cited. In other words, it is possible that some astronomical data which has come down to us as forming part of the literature of a given period might actually be an astronomical occurrence during a much earlier period. We cannot be too sure that the text in which the data is cited was actually composed during the exact period when the cited astronomical event actually transpired. That is only another way of saying that a memory of an event of an earlier period might well be presented as a contemporary event of the author recording the event. The assumption in such cases by many a scholar is that “the actual date of the observation (of the astronomical event) must be the same as that of the literature in which it is referred to or mentioned in some form” (History of Science and Technology in Ancient India, vol.1, p. 254). The particular instance that prompted Debiprasad to take up this issue is the fact that the lists of the asterisms (nakshatra-s) in various Vedic texts like the Taittiriya Samhita, Maitrayani Samhita, etc., always begin with the Krittika-s. Why so, asked Jacobi, and his answer was that it then coincided with the vernal equinox. His conclusion thereupon was that Vedic culture was in existence by roughly 3000 B.C. when this astronomical phenomenon had occurred. That is not the end of the story because the Vedic texts have quite a few other things to say about the Krittika-s which make such a chronology questionable. In the Satapatha Brahmana (ii.1.2.1-5) there is reference to a dispute as to whether the two fires – Garhapatya and Ahavaniya – could be set up under the Krittika-s. The six or seven stars of the Krittika asterism are supposed to be the wives of the Seven Stars who rise in the north. But the Krittika-s rise in the east, thereby making it impossible for the husbands to meet the wives. It would be inauspicious, therefore, to set up fires under the stars which never move away from the eastern quarters and therefore never meet their husbands. The sacrificer’s ambition might well remain unfulfilled like the ambition of the seven seers to be with their wives! Anyway, the fact is that other asterisms may move away from the eastern quarter but the Krittika-s do not. The Krtittika-s are identified with Pleiades with Eta Tauri as its determinative star. Ramatosh Sarkar, an astronomer, has calculated that “Eta Tauri can rise exactly in the east only when its declination is nil or when its celestial longitude is zero and celestial latitude is negligible, i.e. roughly coinciding with the vernal equinox” (HSTAI, vol.1, p.258). This yields 2334 B.C. as the date for such a phenomenon. And the Satapatha Brahmana is definitely not that old by any reckoning. The approximate date of the SB is 1000 B.C. at which juncture the celestial longitude of Eta Tauri was 18 degrees and odd (Ibid. p.259). Obviously, the priests of the Satapatha Brahmana are only referring to an astronomical knowledge that has been passed on to them from days of yore somehow. These priests might have been as innocent as Adam as far as astronomical observations and calculations were concerned for all we know. Debiprasad maintains that this knowledge belonged to the period of Harappan culture. The SB helps him to take to ‘restrospective probing’ whereby the date of Harappan culture could be safely adduced. This date for the astronomical phenomenon just mentioned was corroborated also by the astronomers of the Dr. C.V. Raman Research Institute in Bengaluru whom Debiprasad had approached for confirmation of Ramatosh Sarkar’s calculations. At the instance of Debiprasad, the present author had the privilege of going to the astronomers concerned for their opinion based on expert calculations and convey the same to Dr. Chattopadhyaya for his information. It is true that this kind of research is stimulating although it may have nothing to add to our knowledge of philosophy, but then Debiprasad was not only a student of philosophy but also a historian of ancient Indian science. “A one-man brigade against philosophical obscurantism” as he came to be called by his close associates, Dr. Chattopadhyaya had necessarily been required to have many irons in the fire and he had to keep stoking all of them duly and meticulously all the time. That was the kind of academic acumen he possessed and that deserves to be an attribute worthy of emulation for all of us. In the world of Philosophy proper, his signal contribution consists in establishing “Two trends of philosophy” – namely, materialism and idealism – as an inevitable characteristic of Indian Philosophy just as it is of world philosophy. Other minute and subtle distinctions between different schools of Indian Philosophy notwithstanding, the fundamental criterion for classification of the schools ultimately has to be in terms of the two basic differentiating points of view in philosophy represented by materialism and idealism. Materialism in essence asserts that objective reality is independent of subjective consciousness, which simply means that objects have an existence of their own irrespective of whether they are cognized by anyone or not. This was cryptically summed up by Lenin in his classic statement that the world was there long before there was anyone to know that the world was there. As opposed to this point of view, Idealism in a variety of forms posits that it is our cognition that gives credibility to the world. The oft quoted conundrum that intends to bring out the difference between the two runs somewhat like this: “What is mind? – No matter. What is matter? Never mind.” As one can see, there is nothing about matter here as both responses to the two questions attach greater importance to mind than to matter. So much of esoteric literature has come out on this topic over the centuries in practically all parts of the world that no simple propositions can be satisfactory. Dr. Chattopadhyaya had delivered two talks under the aegis of the University of Mysore way back in November 1976 on “Two Trends in Indian Philosophy” in which he had discussed both streams of philosophy fairly extensively. It has been delineated more elaborately in his “What is Living and What is Dead in Indian Philosophy.” His emphasis is on the historical developments in the course of the evolution of society which created the ground for the emergence of idealism at a definite point of time. This is true of the Indian philosophical context as much as it is applicable in the case of, say, ancient Greek Philosophy. In the Indian context, the contrast is best seen in Vedic literature where during the first phase represented by the Rigveda there is hardly any scope for idealism, whereas all intellectual efforts are afoot in the second phase represented by the Brahmana-s and Upanishad-s to establish the veracity of the idealistic approach to philosophy. The absence and presence respectively of a rigid stratification of society has much to do with the kind of philosophical viewpoint that comes to the fore at a given point of time. Thereafter it is a perpetual conflict between the two ways of looking at ourselves and the world. The techniques and the relations of production have a tremendous potentiality to advance variants of philosophical thought, an aspect almost ignored by historians of philosophy sometimes. There is nothing unique about ancient Indian society, as all ancient societies had to tread more or less the same path and come face to face with the same phenomena. Engels had noticed long ago that “with society splitting up into classes, there took place the divorce of thought from action – of mental labour from manual labour – and also a sense of degradation attached to the latter” as quoted by Chattopadhyaya (Lokayata, p.670). That is how production relations developed. Engels further added elsewhere in this context the following for elucidating the impact of this development on spheres like the philosophical: “The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e., the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force. The class which has the means of material production at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the idea of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it” (German Ideology, quoted by Chattopadhyaya, Lokayata, p.670). This is best corroborated by our contemporary situation in which the havoc caused by the media, including the electronic media, the endless literary festivals where the same thing gets repeated ad nauseam as it were. The power and pelf of the ruling class which enables that class to sell its none too glamorous merchandise to the gullible masses is indeed unfathomable. Where is the wherewithal for the likes of us to counter that propaganda machine? That class, therefore, shines as the pace-setter in culture and philosophical thought giving the impression that there is no other viable thinking process in our midst. Ancient societies had their own characteristic instruments to serve a similar purpose and philosophy was one among them. That is the reason why Dr. Chattopadhyaya has argued vehemently in favour of considering the socio-economic background to philosophical disquisitions and has drawn from history to support his method. In the specific case of the germination of idealist philosophy in India, especially during the period of the Upanishads, he has this to say: “The philosophical view which arose to condemn and reject life was the result of philosophical pursuit turning away from life itself. As with the development of slavery in ancient Greece, so also in Upanishadic India, the lofty contempt for the material world with its ever-shifting phenomena was the result of philosophical enquiry taking a free flight into the realm of pure reason or pure knowledge, i.e. knowledge divorced from action. This in turn could be possible only when a section of the community living on the surplus produced by another, could withdraw itself from the responsibility of the labour of production, and therefore also from the obligation of acknowledging the reality of the material world; for the process of labour alone carries the sense of objective coercion on consciousness” (Two Trends in Indian Philosophy, p.31). If we come to think of it, there is no serious doubting of the reality of the real world in the folk tradition, a tradition nurtured by the working masses. We do have some talk of the theory of karma and the like, but denial of the material world is hard to come by, for the simple reason that cultivation of the land, need for the rains, sowing and putting manure are inevitable processes for obtaining yield from mother earth. The agriculturist does not have the luxury of speculating about the unrealness of the real world. Certain tenets of the idealist school of Vedanta are foisted even on a few religious cults, but that hardly makes any sense, because religion in practice does not deny the world but only tries to give an assurance that a religious person stands every chance of gaining material well-being in reality. Almost every such cult hankers after welfare and seeks the blessings of some god or goddess or both for achieving that end. Paradoxically enough, however, in the range of philosophy the idealist school of thought has at times gained ascendency. Among the Vedantins also we have Ramanuja, Madhva, and a number of others for whom reality of the world we live in is no chimera. Some schools of Buddhism and the Advaita school of Vedanta are about the only few who insist on a purely idealist view of philosophy. All said and done, analysis and not authority is what guides philosophical thought. Thus, in spite of the alleged authority of the Upanishads as understood by the author of the Brahma sutra-s and as interpreted by the likes of Shankara, there has always been a counterpoint to the idealist school of thought in the Indian philosophical tradition. No amount of hectoring can wish away philosophical materialism, which insists that objective reality is independent of subjective consciousness, and that is true of Indian Philosophy as well. 

 

It may not be out of place here to have a word on the traditional classification of the schools of philosophy in India. It is customary, albeit irrational, to speak of the astika and nastika systems as if that was the last word in understanding the nuances of Indian philosophy. This classification is not based on analysis but on authority, which is an anathema for any academic discipline as we have already observed. It does injustice to those texts of Vedic literature, particularly the Rigveda and Atharvaveda, which leave us in no doubt that their principal purport is anything but philosophical. For the authors of these two Vedic texts the world is unquestionably a reality and appeasing the gods and goddesses is one way of facing the world with some confidence and hope. What does it mean then to say that Veda is the authority for philosophical thought and that acceptance or otherwise of this doctrine would make the schools either astika or nastika? What aspect of the doctrines of Nyaya and Vaiseshika schools do we categorise as the one which is directly drawn from the Veda? The Nyaya school would unhesitatingly declare that it does not need the authority of the Veda to say that practice is the criterion of truth, a cardinal idea in the Nyaya school. That fire is an antidote to shivering in the cold is a matter of experience and that piece of knowledge need not be authorized by the Vedic lore. Thus agnirhimasya bheshajam of the Veda does not need to be invoked to authenticate this knowledge. The circumstances under which the formality of adhering to Vedic thought for the enunciation of philosophical ideas came to be considered sacrosanct should be explored dispassionately to call the bluff. Is it acceptance of the ideas contained in the Veda or acceptance of the ritualistic extravagance contained in some influential portion of Vedic literature, namely, the Brahmana-s, which are no more than liturgical texts, which constitutes adherence to the Vedic thought? If it is the former, even the Lokayata-s may not have any quarrel with it, for, after all the Rigveda contains umpteen hymns which constantly crave for material wealth and welfare without going through any ritualistic practices. It is the extraordinary power of the priestly class that enables that class to lord it over the gullible ordinary people that the Lokayata resents, wedded as it is to the folk tradition in which early magic is still the major factor. To what extent indeed will the Samkhya be an astika school if adherence to Vedic authority is the sole criterion for classification of the philosophical systems? We shall soon acquaint ourselves with another anomaly in this regard, but suffice it to state for the present that this classification of philosophical schools on the basis of Vedic authority leads us nowhere. On the other hand it has led to the subordination of philosophy to the dictates of the law-givers or Dharmashastrakara-s. Let us at the very outset be clear that social dynamics and social mores during the centuries when these law-givers gained an awful lot of influence were what they were, not because the law-givers prescribed the rules but because society had formed itself that way under the influence of the then prevailing relations of production. The law-givers merely recorded the structure society had at that given point of time. That structure could not have been imposed by them, had the forces of production been different. The position of the ruling authorities ably assisted by the law-givers was such that even philosophers played second fiddle to them. Shankaracharya, who appeared on the scene quite a few centuries after the major law-givers had already enunciated their doctrines and dictates, goes to the extent of saying that what Manu has said is indeed the final word even in the realm of philosophy. The astika – nastika classification of philosophy on the basis of Vedic authority ultimately became a classification on the basis of what the law-givers approved of and sanctioned. This was decidedly a burden on philosophy which under different conditions might have evolved quite differently.

Let us view the classification by defining the terms differently now. That definition also is a product of tradition. The acceptance or rejection of god is the criterion in this scheme to differentiate the philosophical schools. That criterion makes Samkhya, Vaiseshika and Purva-Mimamsa schools atheistic. Nyaya would also have fitted into the atheistic model if at some stage in the history of its evolution god had not been foisted on it. The Jain school might well qualify for a theistic tag if its elaborate rituals are any indication. No matter, therefore, how we define the two terms astika and nastika the classification as it stands looks incongruous. The only sensible thing to do is thus to consider philosophy as philosophy and make the alleged authority of the Veda for purposes of classifying philosophical ideas infructuous. The only alternative then for us for classifying the schools is to broadly consider them as either materialist or idealist and make them autonomous instead of allowing them to be judged with the yardstick of the law-givers.

There is another good reason why we should go along these lines. Under the traditional classification, both Samkhya and Advaita are astika systems and yet the latter shreds the former into pieces as it considers that system its most preposterous opponent. Samkhya is the finalist in the wrestling bout for Shankara who gives him the nomenclature of the pradhanamalla. Why should two systems equally devoted to Vedic authority be at loggerheads so fundamentally? It is obvious that ‘Vedic authority’ is no more than a formality and the philosophical schools are expected to fall in line to be on the right side of the presumptive custodians of the Vedic lore, namely, the law-givers who are steadfast in defending the vertical division of society. The long and short of it is that philosophy has been appropriated ‘for justifying the ways of the law-givers to society’ if using an expression of Milton is at all pardonable. If we rid ourselves of such extraneous factors for the classification and study of the schools of Indian philosophy a whole storehouse opens itself up. Besides, the absurdity of the traditional a-historical and a-philosophical classification could well be a thing of the past. But the absurdity does not really end with it as there are a few other absurdities we may be required to sort out.

The Brahma sutra-s in a way regimented the study of the Upanishads by insisting that the entire compendium of the Upanishads has but one idea to convey by and large. The apparent differences in the ideas advanced in the different Upanishads, this text said, should be reconciled appropriately (1.1.4: Tat tu samanvayat). In any case, this text does recognise variety of ideas in the Upanishads, but is somehow not inclined to accept this variety. It is more at home with straitjacketing. The euphemistic name given to that is ‘reconciliation.’ Not long after this text there emerged the Bhagavadgita which also purports to be derived from the Upanishads (Sarvopanishado gavah). But where was the problem in accepting the Upanishads as pluralistic in the matter of ideas regarding reality and evaluate the variety of ideas thrown up in the Upanishads? More than a century ago R.G. Bhandarkar raised this question and said in so many words that the Upanishads contain numerous ideas regarding what constitutes reality. A few others opined similarly. But catholicity of ideas has been deftly opposed by our scholars who continue to bask in the sunshine of the Brahma sutra-s, on which there are more than half a dozen ‘authentic’ commentaries, each of them stoutly asserting that its own understanding of the text is the only genuine meaning of the text. Possibly, we have to attempt to reconcile those opposing interpretations also in the true spirit of the Brahma sutra-s! Why has this rigidity set in when the Upanishads themselves did not revere any one single opinion on ever so many philosophical questions? Is there some apprehension of any rival school of philosophy gaining ground because of which a reconciled unity of ideas is considered necessary to protect the philosophical fort? The answer seems to be in the positive and it is the Buddha whom the Brahma sutra-s and the Gita obviously defend themselves against. The orthodox opinion of the priestly class which ruled the roost in the then deeply entrenched vertical society faced a formidable challenge from the Buddha, the Lokayata-s and quite a few other schools on the fringe. The Brahma sutra-s seeks to perform the task of forging a united philosophical front in the face of heterodox opinion which undermines the interests of the ruling class of which the priestly class is a component. The so called ‘ekarthata’ of the Upanishads is thus a constructed phenomenon which the Upanishads themselves do not mind rejecting outright. Historically also there could not have been a single approach to questions of philosophy, considering the fact that the Upanishads were not composed by any one individual at any one given locality at a specific point of time. They were products of a few centuries and the thinkers belonged to different places from the ‘Aryavarta’ to the Gangetic plains. None of the so called acharya-s who wrote commentaries on the Upanishads, the Brahma sutra-s and the Gita ever raised such simple questions. They blindly followed the directives of the Brahma sutra-s and the law-givers and thus acted as active intellectual defenders of the orthodoxy in our vertical society.

There is scope for illustrating this with one example here. Dr. Chattopadhyaya has assigned the role of a pioneer experimental scientist at the global level to Uddalaka Aruni of the Chandogya Upanishad fame for upholding a philosophical position which was anything but idealistic and for having demonstrated it with a series of observations and experimental demonstrations. The formulations of Uddalaka are not far different from what the atomists (paramanu-vadins) during subsequent times advocated and they all fall within the sphere of the philosophical materialists. “How can being evolve from non-being?” (katham asatah sat jayeta) asks Uddalaka which is precisely the question that the Samkhya-s posed. But the Brahma sutra-s and the later acharya-s are all eager to have one uniform idea of reality as the substance of the Upanishads and therefore do not mind converting the materialist Uddalaka into an ardent seeker of Brahman. They do not have the patience to see that Uddalaka never once uttered the word Brahman while explaining his philosophical concepts to his son Svetaketu. It is to the credit of Dr. Chattopadhyaya that he had the courage of conviction to swim against the wild current built up over centuries of philosophical scholarship in our country and place philosophical enquiry on a sound footing. That is the fruit of enviable research acumen. It may at this juncture be proper to proceed to take up another question which Debiprasad has discussed fairly comprehensively in many of his works. The question concerns the role of superstitious ideas and fostering such beliefs with a definite purpose.

It is a strange paradox that philosophy which seeks knowledge of reality quite often panders to some base emotions of the people by not only supporting but also actively creating superstitious beliefs. All superstitions are logically invalid and most of them could well be dismissed under the error called post hoc ergo propter hoc (after this, therefore because of this). The so called omens come under this category. Why are seekers of truth fascinated by gross superstitions? Plato and others are classic examples for this model of philosophers turned propagators of superstitions. Plato blatantly supported the idea of disseminating what he called ‘beneficial falsehood’ which is euphemism for crass superstition. That was his solution to what he considered was a problem with the youth of his times. The youth did not simply fall in line with the so called established norms. They questioned the legitimacy of certain ideas and that irked Plato a lot. His antidote to this was to plant ‘beneficial falsehoods’ in the minds of all such potential dissenters. In the Indian context we have a plethora of superstitions nurtured not only by religion but also by philosophy. Orthodox Indian philosophers took cudgels against the Lokayata principally because it sought to attribute motives to the priestly class for fostering superstitious cults among the people. It is an irony that philosophers who swear by logic (tarka or nyaya) while demolishing their opponents ignore that very logic when parrot-like they sing panegyrics to the dictates of the law-givers on matters outside the purview of the law-givers. Shankara says that ‘what Manu says is the final word.’ And that on matters philosophical. In other words, philosophers do not hesitate to fall into the trap of superstitions. It is alright for Kautilya to advocate the innovative use of superstitions to empower the ruler because it is his mission to keep the people subjugated, but philosophers profess to help the people to obtain liberation. Why then should they forge chains in their workshops to keep the minds of the people under control? Debiprasad has discussed this question at great length in many of his works, especially in his What is Living and What is Dead in Indian Philosophy. He has a whole chapter on ‘the Social Function of Superstition’ in that work of his. There is the philosophy for keeping minds under check and there also is the philosophy to emancipate the minds from the clutches of dry orthodoxy. In fact, in addition to the classification of philosophy as either materialist or idealist, it is time that we also categorise philosophy according to whether or not it positions itself in the bandwagon of superstition, for the simple reason that superstition and true knowledge can never go together. A misconceived belief system and the quest after truth are diametrically opposed to each other. Nyaya philosophy which lays emphasis on the nuances of logical thinking and Lokayata which collides head on with everything that borders on superstition provide people with the weapons of criticism to steer clear of superstitions. Historians of Indian philosophy who are prepared for a confrontation with superstitious ideas are not too many, even when such ideas form an integral part of the philosophical doctrines that different schools of philosophy profess. Dr. Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya is happily an exception to this and it behoves us to follow in his footsteps if we want philosophy to be truly an accessory to people’s emancipation. Emancipation itself is quite frequently defined in abstract terms insofar as the summom bonum of life is to be a worthy servant of the great master called God, as in the philosophies of Ramanuja and Madhva. Bhakti and Prapatti are terms which have been made popular among the votaries of these schools and many other schools have emulated them. This is a case of philosophy being wedded to a specific religious order. Philosophical Materialism is one school that does not have to fall back upon divine intervention for emancipation. The pragmatic philosophy of the Buddha with its doctrine of the pratitya samutpada comes very close to that approach.

Dr. G Ramkrishna is the Chief Editor of Hosatu, a progressive periodical in Kannada. He was Professor of English at National College, Bangalore and a Visiting Professor at Kannada University, Hampi. He is the author a number of books in Kannada and English including The Strange Culture of M.S. Golvalkar,  The Living Marx, and Philosophy in China (in English), The features of the Anti-Fascist Movement, RSS – A Poisonous Tree, On Hindutva (Kannda)
Email ID: dgrkrishna@gmail.com

Read More

Dr G Ramakrishna

M S Muralikrishna

Dr Gampalahalli Ramakrishna is one of the leading Marxist ideologues of our country. Popularly known as Dr GR, he has been a guiding spirit to many pro-people movements in Karnataka for many decades. Hailed as a pro-people scholar, he has been espousing many causes in the overall interests of our polity especially the marginalized sections.

Dr G Ramakrishna (26 January 2014)

Dr GR has been a keen student of Indian as well as western and eastern philosophies. He was a long time associate of Dr Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya, a Marxist scholar and philosopher of repute, who made seminal contributions to the alternate discourse on Indian Philosophy among others.

Born to Sri G Subrahmanyam and Smt Narasamma on June 17, 1939, in Halenahalli, a small village about 32 miles from Tumkur in Karnataka, GR had his basic education in Kempasagara, Magadi Taluk, about 35 miles from Bangalore. For his intermediate education, he moved over to Tumkur. Later, he joined the Sanskrit B. A. Honours Course in Maharaja College, Mysore in June 1955. He did his MA (1959) and PhD (1965) at Mysore University. The thesis for his PhD was ‘Origin & Growth of the Concept of Rita in Vedic Literature’. His guide was Prof. S. Ramachandra Rao. GR earned his Master Degree in English from Pune University (1965) and, again, from Wales University (1968).

After a short stint at Accounts General’s Office (1959), GR turned his attention to academic research. He was a UGC Research Fellow at Mysore University (1960-1962), Research Assistant at Osmania University (May-October 1962), and Research Assistant at Kaivalyadhama Research Institute, Lonawala (1962-1965).

From 1965 to 1967, Dr GR worked as Assistant Professor at Dr Ambedkar College, Mahad. From 1967 to 1993 he was Professor of English at National College, Basavangudi, Bangalore. He was a Visiting Professor at Kannada University, Hampi from 1994 to 1996, during which period he wrote the book ‘The Path of Indian Science’.

Dr GR has been associated with numerous associations. He served as the Secretary and later as President of the Bangalore University College Teachers’ Association for many years in the 1970s and 1980s. He was the President and General Secretary of the Federation of University & College Teachers’ Association of Karnataka. He also served as Vice-President, Secretary and Treasurer of the All India Federation of University & College Teachers’ Organization for a number of years. He was associated with Indo-Soviet Cultural Society (ISCUS), Karnataka State, of which he was the General Secretary for many years. He was associated with the Karnataka State Peace & Solidarity Organization too.

A widely traveled person, Dr GR was in United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland (1967-1968), visited Afghanistan (1971), Soviet Union (1971,1982,1985), Tibet (1984), Nepal (1987), United States of America (1995 & 2011), Cuba and Peru (2011), China (2012) and Europe (2013).

Dr GR has been an invitee to a number of international seminars and conferences, presenting papers on a wide variety of subjects. In 1985 at Friendship House in Moscow, he spoke on the topic ‘Victory against Fascism’. In 1995, at Sky Foundation, Philadelphia, USA, he gave a talk on an entirely different subject - ‘Yoga and Mind’. In 2011, he gave lecture on ‘Consciousness as reflected in English Poetry‘.

Hosatu, the Kannada monthly

Over the years, Dr GR has been conferred a number of awards. He was a recipient of Karnataka Literary Academy Award for three years for his literary contributions in Kannda- Munnota (1980), Aayatana (1995), Bharatheeya Vignaanadha Haadhi (2002). He was presented Manu Award for Education in 1998 and Kuvempu Bhasha Bharathi Award for Translations in 2010. In 2002, the Government of Karnataka wanted to confer Rajyotsva Award to Dr GR, but he declined accepting it.

As an independent publisher, Dr GR established Ma–Le Prakashana in 1980 to bring out progressive literature in Kannda and English. For 25 years, he was the publisher of ‘Achala‘, a women’s monthly magazine in Kannada of Jagruthi Mahila Adhyayana Kendra.

Dr.GR has been a prolific writer in Kannada as well as in English. In Kannda, his works include Munnota (‘Vision‘ - 1980), Vaichaarika Jaagruthi (‘Awareness about Rationalism’ – 1992), Deviprasad and Lokyatha Darshana (1994), Bharatheeya Vignaadandha Haadhi (‘The Path of Indian Science – 1997), Fredrich Engels (2003), Yogapravesha (‘An introduction to Yoga’ – 2003), Yugadarivu (2004), Nudibimba (‘The Wordly Image’ – 2005). The biographies he wrote on revolutionaries such as Yugapurusha Lenin –1979), Bhagat Singh (1984), Bhupesh Gupta (1986), and Che Guevara (1994) have been very popular, especially his biography on Bhagat Singh, which has been reprinted 13 times so far. Some of his booklets in Kannda include The Strange Culture of M.S. Golvalkar (1971), The features of the Anti-Fascist Movement (1975), Friendship – Culture (1978), RSS – A Poisonous Tree (1979), and On Hindutva (1993).

Dr GR was the editor of a series of books (“Golden Jubilee Series) published in 1998 commemorating the Golden Jubilee of India’s independence. The books published in this series are The Heights of the Women’s Movement (N Gayathri), Media and Freedom (G N Mohan), Education at the end of the century (KK Thekedath), Social Movements (R K Manipal), India and the International Situation (C R Krishna Rao), An alternate path to India (B V Kakkilaya), Footsteps of the Indian Freedom Struggle (B V Kakkilaya), Peoples’ Health (C R Chandrashekar), Agriculture in Post-independent India (Y V Krishna Rao), Economy – The Challenges (Kamalanayan Kaabra), Fifty Years of Independence (Vyasaraya Ballal), Science and Technology ( J R Lakshman Rao & M A Sethurao), Constitution and Law ( Krishnamurthy Sirsi), Studies in History – Past and Present (Dr H S Gopala Rao).

Dr GR (Courtesy: The Hindu)

Some of Dr GR’s translations include Spider and the Fly by Wilhelm Liebknecht (1973), The Role of Labour in the transition from Ape to Man by Engels (1978), Wage, Labour and Capital by Karl Marx (1979) and Lokayata (2012).

Dr GR’s books in English are The Strange Culture of M.S. Golvalkar (1971), The Living Marx (1983), Philosophy in China (1990, translated into Hindi in1990), The Gorbachev Phenomenon (1991). The books he edited include An Encyclopedia of South Indian Culture (with Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya & N.Gayathri – 1983), Studies in Indian Culture (A felicitation volume to Prof S Ramachandra Rao – 1986), Towards a Redefinition of the Educational Policy (1992), Vision & Wisdom (Letters of Kuvalayananda – 1995), Some thoughts on Marxism (with Dr Sanjay Biswas – 2002), Musings in Ideology (with Late Dr Sanjay Biswas – 2002).

An avid trekking enthusiast that Dr GR is, he had been to Kailas Manas Sarovar (1985), Mount Everest Base Camp (1987), Chandarakani Pass in Himachal Pradesh (1998), Yamunotri, Gangotri & Gomukh (2002).

Dr GR has been the Chief Editor of Hosathu, a progressive monthly magazine published in Kannada since 1999. He was also in the Editorial Board of the newsletter of Samudaaya, a reputed cultural troupe of Karnataka, known for its espousal of people’s causes through theatre.

Presently, Dr GR is the Chief Editor of the Kannada Version of the series Global Philosophy for Everyman, comprising eight volumes, published first in English by Navakarnataka Publications Pvt. Ltd, Bangalore in December 1993.

Dr GR turns 75 today, 17 June 2014.

MS Muralikrishna (left) with Dr GR

MS Muralikrishna, a trade union activist, works in a nationalized bank in Bangalore. A longtime friend of Dr GR, he has been associated with a number of social movements. He periodically contributes articles to Kannada magazines. He has recently translated into Kannada a book written by Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya, which is being brought out by Navakarnataka Publications as part of the series Global Philosophy for Everyman, edited by Dr GR

Read More

Critics of Lokayatika-s: the Accusers Accused

G. Ramakrishna

A significant enunciation, with copious evidences, by Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya was that the Lokayata-s were not always looked down upon by the elitist sections of society in ancient India. Denunciation of the Lokayata-s based on their alleged hedonistic approach to life is philosophically and historically quite medieval in thinking. It is one of the heresies spread by the author of Sarvadarshana Samgraha, a text on philosophy in Sanskrit belonging to the 14^th century. Drupada of the Mahabharata had no qualms against them, while Kautilya included the Lokayata among the lore that a ruler should be familiar with. Among the Brahmins said to have called on the Buddha once was a Lokayata philosopher as well. The inescapable truth is that the Lokayata-s got denigrated profusely because of their unflinching opposition to the system which protected vested interests. This system had no scruples about superstitious beliefs providing a safety valve against possible pritests by the masses. Let alone the masses, even an ordinary representative of theirs had to be put down violently lest he provoke others into his line of thinking. Why else would that solitary individual rising his voice against the illegitimacy of Yudhisthira getting anointed as king in Hastinapura be beheaded? Beheaded he was according to the version we have in the Mahabharata. His only grouse after all was that this same Yudhisthira had played havoc with the lives of multitudes of people during the war in Kurukshetra in the name of restoring Dharma. What kind of restoration of Dharma is that where you have to kill a million instead of converting a few of them into righteous persons or persuading them to follow the path of righteousness in general. It is to the eternal credit of the Lokayata-s that it was a person professing Lokayata philosophy who had the boldness and decency to cry foul when such a colossal destruction had been perpetrated. The poor Charvaka who had thus remonstrated was unceremoniously lynched by the Brahmin mob, for which act of ‘social gracefulness’ all the Brahmins in the mob were duly compensated by the king with regards and gifts. The whole episode serves as a fine metaphor for what has apparently gone on relentlessly in our society for quite a long time. As loyal traditionalists, large numbers of the contemporary defenders of the so called Dharma perpetuate the crime in a more complex form today. And that does not apply solely to our own India either, because other parts of the globe are not free from such horrendous deeds against the lowly in society.

Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya

The Charavaka consciousness exemplified by the episode just recalled is not by any means an isolated occurrence. In fact, at the core of the Bhagavadgita lies an interrogation of exactly the same kind, but much more elaborate and disturbing. The extraordinary feat of the Gita consists in marginalising this supremely important sociological question of violence and destruction as an imperative for restoring and consolidating Dharma. The first chapter of the Gita, which incidentally also happens to be the best chapter of that philosophico-religious text, articulates the concerns of the Charvaka of Mahabharata fame when the remorseful Arjuna is overtaken by mortification at the very thought of killing his own kinsmen for the sake of obtaining the throne. It is quite another matter that the super preceptor Krishna preaches that there is nothing like death for the warriors on the battlefield as their souls are eternal and that Arjuna need only be an instrument for killing the ‘unkillable’ because they have already been killed! A mesmerising play of words to equal this philosophical fancy is hard to come by in the range of world philosophy. Arjuna’s questions are not questions of an anti-hero who wants to find an alibi for fleeing from the battlefield. On the contrary, there must have been members in the society of the days of the author of the Gita rising such awkward but pressing questions regarding what was transpiring in society. It was viewed as being unjust, not to speak of being irrational as well. The principal foundational principles of those times, subjected to criticism by a section of society, are sought to be justified and defended by the Gita, thereby performing a philosophical task of ‘justifying the ways of God to man.’ The most touching question of Arjuna centres round the understanding that one cannot live in peace after killing one’s own people (BG. 1.31 and 37). He would rather go without the kingdom for himself than have the three worlds themselves after killing such an enormous number of people of his own milieu. He would not mind getting himself killed instead (BG 1.41). One need not view the entire discussion in the Bhagavadgita in the light of the actual battlefield in Kurukshetra. After all, the author of the Gita has chosen that particular form for highlighting his philosophico-religious ideas in the context of his own times. The disintegration of society that would inevitably ensue from war is abhorring for Arjuna. Of course, disintegration is here conceived of in terms of caste barriers being broken and women being led astray (BG 1.41).It is somewhat intriguing that Arjuna who is so much worried about what might happen if women went astray does not seem to be equally concerned about what might happen if men went astray. But that is beside the point. The orthodox opinion that stratification of society along caste lines is divine dispensation is repeated parrot-like by Arjuna when he expresses consternation about ‘permanent values’ getting dislocated by war which creates intermixture of castes, as a consequence of which the prescribed death rites would also be a casualty (BG 1.42). The fortress of rituals must not be allowed to be desanctified, come what may. But that was precisely the target of the Lokayata-s, for which reason they were shunned and demonized. The demonization went so far as to deny basic ethical norms being sacrosanct for the Lokayata-s. So much so, it was averred that these pestilences personified by the Charvaka-s would go so far as to make merry recklessly, throwing to the winds any sense of social obligation. They might not steal, but definitely borrow from others unmindfully for having a swell time for themselves. It is a paradox that the very people who raised crucial questions about social ethics were portrayed as a socially irresponsible crowd. The Gita promised hope under distressing circumstances by assuring that God would descend on earth to straighten things out whenever they became unbearable (4.7). But no serious philosopher in the Indian tradition ever thought it fit to introspect as to why almighty God never tried to instill hope by persuading the unrighteous to be otherwise instead of taking the extreme step of bumping them off at one stroke. Secondly, how come that God incarnate is unable to install a just society once and for all so that he does not have to undergo the ordeal of incarnating himself now and again? Idealist schools of thought were annoyed continually, as they are even now, for no other reason than that such questions were raised by the Lokayata-s.

This is not to suggest that the Gita presents a view of the Lokayata school. But the point is that the Indian philosophical tradition and its impact cannot be viewed as if it were a monolithic structure. We have karma, adrishta (the unseen), bondage and liberation on the one hand, and the thought of the common folk untainted by such doctrines on the other. One of them imposes a burden on the individual by making him helpless and subordinate and the other prompts the person to action. It is this latter tradition which interrogates the rationale of the beliefs and practices of the other tradition. The principal postulate of the interrogators is that man has the potential to intervene creatively to change the order of things in society if only he interacts with his milieu and understands the principles governing it. Naturally, the two traditions have been polaric opposites, one accepting the reality of the world and the other negating it. Even among those who do not reject the reality of the world, there are some like Ramanuja and Madhva who preach surrender to the supreme deity as the single authentic means for attaining what they call emancipation. Social emancipation is definitely not there on the agenda of these philosophers whose company is quite formidable.

It is a commonplace truth that primitive societies try to come to grips with reality rather than negate it stoutly, or else posit the reality of the world with the rider that there is something more real than reality which ought to be the real aim in the quest of man. Fear and mystery are the two outstanding experiences that we find recorded in primitive societies as evidenced by their belief-systems and ritualistic practices. Fire, rain, thunder, darkness, wild beasts and the like stare primitive men in the face. The means to survival in the confrontation is the ancient magical act. Through this, he gradually moves on to the recognition of some law ingrained in movements within nature that he perceives all around himself. The spelndour of the morning, the starry sky of the night, the warmth of the sun, the occasional floods, wild fires, seasonal fluctuations and similar other phenomena mesmerise him as he gropes in darkness to figure out the law, if any, governing these phenomena. Even a cursory glance at the Rigveda brings out this element quite vividly. How then can he deny reality of it all like some future day sophisticated philosophers of the idealist school of thought? The latter, after all, belonged to a period when there were more material advancements along with the knowledge to thus advance.

What Lokayata philosophy does is to retain both the awe and the reality of things around man as experienced by all primitive societies. It is needless to say that the full ramifications of a philosophical school of thought are nowhere to be seen in primitive societies and their rituals. Nevertheless, it is necessary to cognize proto-materialism in its form, scope and evolution. We shall then be able to disentangle ourselves from the inane characterization of Indian philosophy as a whole as something exclusively idealistic and spiritualistic. It is for historians to discern when and under what circumstances the spiritual discourse struck roots in Indian philosophy. The signal contribution of Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya consists in unraveling this mystery, if mystery it is reckoned to be. It is an infamy, therefore, to consider an anti-idealistic philosopher as a philosophical untouchable in the Indian tradition. Here, for example, is a specimen of the tirade against the Lokayata: “….With the single exception of the Lokayata which insists that all moral conventions and ethical theories have been invented by clever weaklings, no other philosopher would seriously support the view that the preservation of one’s earthly existence at all costs is the summum bonum of our life.” This is penned by a reputed author in one of the early issues of the prestigious Philosophical Quarterly and it is quite easy to pick out any number of such declarations by our allegedly pious philosophers of yesterday and today. (But let us first be clear that the Lokayata does not speak of weaklings cleverly inventing moral conventions and ethical theories; what they do attribute to the ‘clever weaklings’ is the diabolical rituals to bamboozle the layman.) The purport of statements like the one just quoted is as much to eulogise the idealist schools as to deride the Lokayata school. If the litmus test is social ethics, how do idealistic philosophers fare in our tradition? Unfortunately, there is nothing spectacular in their mien if the justification advanced by them in favour of social stratification is any indication. Whatever the veracity of the accusations laid at the door of the Lokayata-s, one thing is for sure, and that is that they never sullied themselves by advancing preposterous and phoney theories to explain the alleged divine ordinance concerning the vertical social hierarchy perpetuated for centuries in our country. On the contrary, they relentlessly laid bare the philosophical emptiness of the idealist schools of thought which professed loftily but practised meanly.

It does not redound to the credit of philosophy to make acceptance of Vedic authority as the sole criterion for categorizing philosophical schools as either theistic or atheistic. And yet this is constantly harped upon as the ultimate court of justice to decide what is acceptable and what is not in the realm of philosophy. What is worse, many an Indian philosopher bows down in reverence to the dictates of even ordinary mundane law-givers (hopefully, they are not law-makers, too) as if they were profound philosophers, which they were not. It is strange that our philosophers did not for a moment doubt that truth could be the child of authority and not of time, contemplation, observation, analysis and logic. The Lokayata philosophers sought to move towards that methodology even if they did not conceptualise it in so many words. Of some curiosity is the question of the Jaina school. Where does philosophy end and religion gain ground? This question is as much relevant in the context of the Shaiva and Vaishnava traditions as in the case of Jainism. Contemporary Buddhism is no exception either. With all the elaborate rituals of worship, the Jaina school could as well have been designated a thoroughly theistic religion, had it not been for the ridiculous criterion of Vedic authority being the yardstick for the classification. The only difference between the Jain school and the so called Vedic schools is that the Tirthankara-s take the position of the Veda in Jainism. Both authorities could well be considered as being subject to the limitations of time and perception. It would have been more reasonable philosophically had the views of Jain philosophy concerning the origin of the universe, theory of knowledge and conditions for Arhantship been considered instead. The identity or otherwise of views regarding Pudgala and Padartha respectively in Jain and Nyaya schools of philosophy, for example, could better serve as distinguishing marks. Even so, what exactly does it mean to accept Vedic authority in philosophy? Does the Veda enunciate any specific idea regarding, say, the five elements as constituents of the real world for schools of philosophy to accept it as a postulate and then proceed further in philosophical disquisition? Likewise about other propositions that fall within the scope of philosophy. It is obvious, therefore, that issues alien to philosophy have been tagged on as limitations for a free philosophical discussion. It is one thing to refer to an idea adumbrated in some Upanishad or the other and accept it and corroborate it, and quite another to be bound by it. Is there one stream of philosophy in the Rigveda, for example? Are the hymns addressed to Agni, Indra, Savitr, Varuna and Ushas fundamental to philosophical speculations? What does one make of the gambler’s hymn of the Rigveda as source material for philosophy? Or, of the frog-hymn where the budding disciple recites the Veda like a frog just back from hibernation? How can one convert a piece of good poetry into authoritative philosophy? Further, even granting that there is some very significant philosophical doctrine in the just mentioned hymns, is it consistent with speculations in the Upanishads? And why should it be, indeed? Is there no scope for divergent views in the world of philosophy on questions for which we do not possess final answers? It certainly is not a sound method to telescope the history of thought over a few centuries into one supposedly infallible doctrine, for the simple reason that it would make efforts over centuries to understand Reality irrelevant, as one obviously is already in possession of authentic ‘final answers’ to all questions concerning man and the world. The problem of philosophy has been resolved and hence there is no further need for exercising the intellect any more regarding the perennial questions of philosophy. In other words, one makes philosophy redundant by making some apparently divine text as the final authority on questions for which we do not have any single final answer even now! And that is what has been done in respect of the entire range of Upanishadic literature produced over a period of a few centuries at geographical areas largely distant from each other. It is grossly unfair to aver that after a few centuries of philosophical exercises over vastly separated areas, our ancestors arrived at just one philosophical view as the Brahma Sutra-s understood it. Indian philosophy is much more than this one text. Variety in thinking and viewing is what anyone immediately recognizes in the Upanishads. It must have been quite boring for anyone to produce so many texts for conveying one uniform idea! This kind of misplaced adulation for the Upanishads reduces the abundantly rich texts into a poorly composed copy-book. Let us put it a little more bluntly thus: The veracity or otherwise of a Physicist’s formulation can hardly be judged by the totally extraneous factor as to whether he or she reads his or her Bible regularly or not. A third alternative is not to read it at all at any time and still be a knowledgeable Physicist. The glorious strides that Indian philosophers so valiantly made in their attempt to understand Reality have been pygmied by the brownie and the pixie called Vedic authority for the corroboration of philosophical ideas. It is not only strange but also shameful that our traditional scholars, old and new, have never once given thought to this somewhat elementary detail concerning the history of Indian Philosophy.

For once, the Lokayata school liberated philosophy from this uncalled for encumbrance by looking at the world straight without the ‘Vedic glasses’ and by calling the bluff of those who foisted elaborate rituals on philosophy. Even if one does not agree with an oriental scholar who described the Brahmana texts that succeeded the Samhita texts as ‘theological twaddle’, it must unhesitatingly be accepted that there is not much philosophical analysis therein for a philosopher to fall back upon. Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya almost single-handedly, or as ‘a one man brigade’ as he was once described, put Indian Philosophy on its legitimate course by establishing in no uncertain terms that there are two concrete traditions in Indian Philosophy, like in world philosophy. The relationship between the elements of nature and human consciousness discussed so passionately in some schools of Indian ohilosophy received its due at the hands of Debiprasad more than in anybody else’s hands, although it must be conceded that many others before him had called attention to it. For example, M. Hiriyanna, to mention just one. The other thing that Debiprasad did was to ostracise the self-proclaimed dictatorial authorities, namely, the law-givers (or Dharmashastrakara-s), from the domain of a critical and historical study of Indian Philosophy. Considering that even historians of science at the Academy of Science have no more than the rigmarole that is popular with others, it is significant that a pathbreaking role has been played by Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya by his focus on what is central to Lokayata as a philosophy. The cliché about the Lokayata being hedonistic or ‘Charvaka’ being a ‘sweet-tongued’ fellow no longer seems to have any place in philosophy.

Madhava’s stanza in the Sarva Darshana Samgraha which is what has started the game needs to be understood copiously. The stanza runs thus:

Yavajjivet sukham jivet rinam kritva ghritam pibet;

Bhasmibhutasya dehasys punaragamanam kutah.

The literal meaning of the stanza is well-known: Live happily as long as you live; enjoy by being a debtor if need be. Once turned to ashes after death, where is there any return at all?

Firstly, the first part of the stanza is not much different from the oft-repwated incantation: Jivema Sharadah Shatam (May we live for a hundred years). Modama Sharadah Shatam (May we partake of joy for a hundred years) is among the aspirations voiced. This is sanctified, but “Yavajjivet sukham jivet” is condemned as blasphemy, which is rather odd. Secondly, do we take all such stanzas literally always? If not, why castigate this one for its ‘rinam kritva ghritam pibet” part? A devotional poem attributed to Shankaracharya says among other things that it does not help to know your grammar and roots of Sanskrit verbs (Na hi na hi rakshati dukrun karane). Do we take it literally and stop learning grammar in order to attain emancipation? The point is that literary devices are abundantly employed by philosophers for driving home their message; they may grow rhetorical aso at times. No student of Literature need be taught that rhetorical expressions are not to be taken too literally. “Rinam kritva ghritam pibet” is one such fine expression and it does not intend to portray a Charvaka as a hedonist, much less a morally irresponsible being. There are umpteen literary devices employed by Shankara in his commentary on the Brahma Sutra-s. Students of Purva Mimamsa know what they refer to as ‘arthavada’ by which is meant the laying of emphasis on a particular prescription in an indirect suggestive way. The usual example given is that 'the serpents performed a sacrifice.’ When you say “sarpah satram asata” you are not making a factual statement about the serpents having performed a sacrifice; what you mean to convey is that man has the obligation to perform a sacrifice. When the serpents themselves have performed a sacrifice, how much more becoming is it for man to do so! Arthavada may be a technical term in the Purva Mimamsa, but it is akin to any literary device having a similar purport. It is only for denigrating the Lokayata school that a simple commonplace literary device has been twisted and is being relentlessly continued even now What the ‘’arthavada’ of the passage under reference conveys is simply this: Ingrain in yourself the way to remain happy in life; don’t you be a slave to the barren belief and ritual that have been held before you as the path to happiness; instead, you had better develop the discretion to be happy at all times and at all costs.

Ordaining thus is not a terrible deviation from what is commended in the Ishavasya Upanishad which says that you should live for a hundred years with activities, meaning desirable actions. (It is quite superfluous to suggest like Shankara does that action here means various rituals (karmani agnihotradini). Supposing that the ‘arthavada’ connotation is not acceptable for some prejudicial reason, the further question arises whether a Charvaka will be allowed by his fellow social beings to keep incurring debts to be happy when they also are expected to be doing exactly the same thing as fellow Charvaka-s. Today the World Bank prescribes conditionalities which our sovereign government accepts, but a Carvaka society will have none to accept the conditionalities when each member of the group here is prescribing conditionalities, the sole condition being ‘give me the loan on condition that you don’t het it back.’ It is not graceful to call the dog mad and shoot it and that applies as much to the world of philosophy as it does to other departments of life. The priestly class has the prerogative to tell its votaries that it is safe to perform the Jyotishtoma sacrifice for attaining heaven (Jyotishtomena swargakamo yajeta), but the Charvaka philosopher has no such elixir-like formula to tell anyone that it is safe to give loans to a Charvaka. There are two snags there: firstly, he does not have votaries like the priestly class has and secondly the Charvaka does not have a heaven to entice his votaries with! We have yet to hear of a Charvaka Bank which is totally unmindful of its non-performing assets, a euphemism for unreturned loans, like some of our nationalized banks seem to be.

Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya drew the attention of the students of Indian Philosophy to Shantarakshita’s Tattavasamgraha commented upon by Kamalasheela. This work mentions a certain Purandara as the author of a text on Lokayata philosophy but the text is extinct. What we understand from Shantarakshita is that the philosophical doctrines of Purandara are considerably different from the one attributed to the Lokayata school by the ‘Sarva Darshana Samgraha’. It is another matter, of course, that Shantarakshita does not accept Purandara’s doctrines. But he does not dismiss the school as inconsequential after making some sniding remarks about its doctrines like some latter day ‘philosophers’ do. The current crop of critics of the Lokayata school with no analytical approach whatsoever needs to be included among such philosophers. The reason for Shantarakshita in so doing may be that he is, like Purandara, one who does not recognize the authority of the Veda for validating philosophical positions. Madhava, on the other hand, is incensed with the gumption of the Lokayata philosopher in making light of Vedic authority and even lampooning it lavishly. In tune, therefore, with the masters of Vedic rituals who had no love lost for the Lokayata-s, Madhava repeats parrot-like what had been traditionally said about the Lokayata school by orthodox schools. That is no sound method for a philosopher, to say the least. It is the examination and evaluation of the epistemology and ontology of a school of philosophy that should be the deciding factor for a philosopher when he is in disagreement with a school of philosophy. That is what Shankara does, for example, when he refutes the position of the Samkhya school which to him is the finalist in philosophical debate. Defeating Samkhya means defeating Lokayata as well, according to him. In other words, Lokayata, like Samkhya, is a school of materialist philosophy and Shankara is prepared for a confrontation with them simultaneously. Had the works of Purandara, Bhaguri and the likes of them come down to us, the ridiculous argument against Lokayata philosophy advanced by Madhava and his ilk might not have been there.

The prime question then is why the texts of the Lokayata philosophers disappeared in the course of history. It is not tendentious or simplistic to suggest that a crucial reason for it was the social philosophy which the Lokayata school underlined. It was against this that idealist philosophers had to fight in order to defend what their philosophy sought to defend. The innate connection between materialism and the people involved in human endeavours is borne out by the history of civilization throughout the world. A world – denying philosophy may be sweet for an intellectually astute philosopher, but a person who has to live with the sweat of his brow does not have much love for it. What is ‘ultimately real’ may be a fine academic question, but ploughing and sowing are not mere academic matters. Plato was neither the first nor the last to demean the labourer while making merry with the products of the labour of others. The Lokayata school of philosophy has happily remained at the receiving end in this unequal bout.

Not to be left far behind some philosophers, texts like the Vishnu Purana castigated the Lokayata-s in strong terms which are more indicative of anger and apprehension than any philosophical justification. It might also be said that some philosophers took the cue from the Purana-s while attacking the Lokayata system. It is interesting to note that the Vishnu Purana has nothing against Lokayata philosophy; its whole ire is occasioned by the fact that the Lokayata does not accept Vedic authority and has no special regard for sacrificial rituals. That the Lokayata-s have a severe banter for death rituals is an indication of the demonaic element in the Lokayata system according to this Purana. The text further bemoans that the Lokayata-s are under a delusion because of which they allegedly declare that ‘the world has no basis or support’ external to itself, that the world is primordially evil, and so on. It is because of this that the lokayata-s are inimical to the Brahmins in the view of the Vishnu Purana. It is obvious whose interests within the caste hierarchy the Purana seeks to defend and also why orthodoxy has always found the lokayata as a bush of thorns in the otherwise pleasant garden of vertical social hierarchy. Those who wonder whether the Lokayata system of philosophy has anything at all to do with ethics may like to consider if consciousness of social equality is not a fundamental ingredient of ethics in the specific Indian context. The Lokayata-s were not satisfied with mere consciousness against a social stigma, they were crusaders against it as well, which is saying a lot about their ethical values. As crusaders, of course, they did not perpetrate any crime like their counterparts of medieval Europe did, and yet the Vishnu Purana liberally consigns all the Lokayata-s to the burning hell out of sheer indignation, but the society at large might not have enthusiastically shared its misplaced spirit for ‘punishing’ the Lokayata-s. Vachaspati Mishra follows the Purana edict as a great loyalist, casting to the winds his true calling as a philosopher. He is more royal than the king when he proclaims that the Lokayata-s are ‘more brutish than brutes’ thereby again proving that his first interest is not philosophy but defence of the social pyramid of his times. Why would so many ‘authorities’ rave against the lokayata-s if their system had not been part of the popular legend of those days?

If it is not some Purana like the Vishnu Purana that guides some Indian philosophers in the evaluation of philosophy, then it is some law-giver who directs them how to distribute their favours. In either case, it is an extraneous thing that makes them evaluate philosophical schools. The whole thing reminds one of the medieval age in Europe when the Church in Rome either frowned upon Science or favoured it depending upon how it might or might not affect papal authority. The only difference is that perhaps India did not resort to the foul act of burning heretics at the stake like Europe did. Possibly the Indian philosophers believed in a more humane way of killing! As far as killing the idea is concerned there is a fine similarity of purpose. A typical instance of the Indian philosophers signing on the dotted lines drawn by the law-givers can be seen in the commentaries on what is called the “Apashudradhikarana” of the Brahma Sutra-s. The Taittiriya Samhita (2.2.10.2) had earlier averred that the “words of Manu are like a medical potion” (Yadvai kincha manuravadat tadbheshajam). Not many Indian philosophers have raised the question as to why or how the words of a law-giver could be the final verdict on a question of philosophy when it is well-known that such law-givers are by mo means pre-eminent philosophers in their own right. Another way of saying this is that philosophy must dutifully subserve the purpose of the existing unequal social order. Shankara has said that a particular statement of Manu (namely, 12.91) implies the refutation of the views of the Samkhya doctrine of Kapila. The exact words are here: Manuna … sarvatmatvadarshanam prashamsataa kaapilam matam nindyata iti gamyate, meaning that while edifying the soul as the substratum of everything Manu has refuted the view of Kapila regarding the elements. Should one not have the integrity to pronounce outright that it is not edifying for a philosopher to lay philosophy prostrating at the feet of a law-giver whose sole purpose is to keep the stultifying social order static? P.V. Kane has hit the nail on the head by saying, perhaps ironically, that “according to Shankara, the author of the Vedanta Sutra-s has Manusmriti for one of his sources.” It passes one’s understanding how Manu could be of great help in understanding the true nature of ‘what is’ (sat), which is the principal preoccupation of the philosopher Shankara. This question may sound quite scandalous to our adherents and irrational admirers of Shankara, ‘the Himalayan philosopher’ as they like to describe him. But the Himalayan philosopher is not disinterested in the conservation of the social hierarchy of his times. Both the philosophical and the sociological stances of Shankara are evident from his commentary on the Brahma Sutra-s. The world as experienced by us in our day to day life may be ephemeral according to Shankara, but the vertical social hierarchy in it is not so; it must be defended to the last hilt.

As an illustration for this, we may go to the ‘Apashudraadhikarana’ of the Brahma Sutra-s. That it is the opinion of the Upanishadic passage concerned and not necessarily that of Shankara as well does not hold water. The point at issue in this section (adhikarana) is that the philosophical view highlighted in the Upanishad is not available to the ‘low born’ (shudra). If that is what the contention of the Upanishadic passage, namely, the Chandogya Upanishad 4.2.3, also is, then that too becomes an example for calumny, leaving the slandering Shankara unexonerated. The paradox of it all is that the philosophical view under reference is a sine qua non for liberation, but that view is, however, not available for a Shudra, which means that a Shudra is condemned to eternal bondage. It is quite another matter that the Shudra in spite of such ignominious strictures continues to struggle for liberation with the help of some other philosophy as evidenced by history. If there is any hope for the so called low born, it is solely in the form of service to the ‘high-born’, as Manu has said and as Shankara has endorsed!

In the first place, why does the ‘low-born’ not have the right to gain the philosophical view so much tattooed? The answer is simple: “Because he has no right to study the Veda.” And why so? ‘Because he is uninitiated’ as per law and he is also uninitiable as per the law of the ‘high-born’ rulers. The ‘low-born’ is duly warned that any transgression of this ordinance could be suicidal as molten lead might be poured into his ears if he dares to so much as hear the recitation of the Veda, let alone recite it himself. It is hard to believe that a philosopher could be so irrational as this, but Shankara quotes these words of the Gautama Dharma Sutra (2.3.4) with unbashful approval. And why should the ‘low-born’ not hear the recitation of the Veda? “Because he is similar to the cremation grounds.” Pray, what logic is this? Suppose one goes and recites the Veda right on the cremation grounds, then what? Oh, no. It is sheer blasphemy. “There is a clear injunction that his tongue must be cut if he recites the Veda and that his body must be rendered asunder if he comprehends the Veda,” says Shankara, the mighty philosopher. But, are we reading a philosophical text or some nasty edict of a tyrannical Roman emperor? May we submit that the great champions of Shankara’s philosophy who want us to accept Shankara lock, stock and barrel should answer that question to themselves first? It is not without some substance that some present day followers of Shankara liken him to Plato. There are many similarities between the two; both consider the world to be somewhat unreal and both uphold slavery, albeit in slightly different forms.

Without going into the details of the context in which all this discourse on the curse heaped on the Shudra figures in Shankara’s commentary on the relevant portions of the Chandogya Upanishad (4.2.3), it may be mentioned that Raikva, endowed with sublime knowledge although living in harsh straits, condescends to teach the Truth to Jaanashruti, a wealthy non-shudra, when he offers to gift a damsel if need be to receive the famed knowledge in possession of the former. While doing so, he addresses the non-shudra as a shudra, which is what propmpts all the commentators on the Brahjma Sutra-s to launch a tirade against the shudra-s and pay rich obeisances to the law-givers in the name of interpreting a philosophical point. The multi-million rupee question for the commentators unhappily is whether philosophical knowledge could be imparted to someone like Jaanashruti who had just been addressed as if he were a Shudra. After taking the literal meaning of the word ‘shudra’ to begin with, the commentators hold forth eloquently about the prescriptions of the law-givers approvingly and then argue that the literal meaning is not of any consequence in the given context. What else does the word ‘shudra’ mean then in the given context? The etymology of the word from the root ‘shuk’ suggests that ‘shudra’ is one who is perpetually in a pathetic condition, but that Jaanashruti is momentarily a ‘shudra’ because of his remorseful condition. Whatever the usefulness or otherwise of the excursion into etymology, one thing remains clear and that is that there was no sense of pathos evoked in Shankara for the ‘low-born’ and yet he was a lofty philosopher.

Ramanuja, Madhva and other greats in the world of Indian Philosophy might have differed among themselves on any number of issues concerning philosophy, but they were all one in equating the ‘low-born’ with the cemetery. They vied with each other, if anything, in surrendering to the dictates of the law-givers without ever venturing to dictate the law-givers about humanist philosophy, social equality and universal appeal of knowledge. Likewise, they are all strongly united in their opposition to the Lokayata school of thought. There is, for example, a myth bandied about in respect of Ramanuja that he was for embracing everyone into his fold in a truly liberal fashion. But here is a sample of his ‘liberalism’ (in loose translation) which should be an eye-opener: The low-born are not entitled to perform any sacrifice. It is not something which one can perform by virtue of the material wealth that one possesses. Everyone should follow the course of action prescribed for the different varna-s (that is, broadly, castes). … The low-born ought to understand the Brahman by taking recourse to the epics and legends only. (Commentary on the Brahma Sutra-s, 1.3.36).

Not to be left behind, Raghavendratirtha, the much venerated miracle-man of the Madhva tradition in his “Tattvamanjari” (144) has said all that Shankara has said about the Shudra-s. He, however, goes a step further to point out that Jaanashruti of the Chandogya Upanishad was not a Shudra, for, he possessed a chariot which he could not have done had he been a Shudra! Nothing, therefore, could prevent Raikva from imparting sublime knowledge to him.

The intellectual acrobatics that Shankara, Ramanuja, Madhva and many other Indian philosophers willingly resorted to was occasioned not by any demand of philosophy but by the dogmatic concern for justifying and consolidating social hierarchy which is not an ennobling function of philosophy. If anything, philosophy has the unenviable task of serving humanity by upholding equality, rationality and happiness. To suggest that in the ‘ultimate sense’ happiness so called is only unhappiness is to be clever by half because even the Bhagavadgita speaks of the worldly imperatives when it acknowledges ‘lokasamgraha’ (norms of the actual world) as a value. The Lokayata school of philosophy had no need for such crafty arguments and rationalization. The Lokayatika, that is, a follower of the Lokayata school, had Reason on his side when he boldly accused his accuser of non-philosophical considerations while discussing philosophy. The deft strokes of Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya have restored the right of the Lokayata school to stand head and shoulder above many another Indian school of philosophy while also buttressing the philosophical schools of Samkhya, Vaisheshika and Nyaya. Little wonder, therefore, that shaken savant unsuccessfully moved a resolution once at an Al India Philosophical Congress stating that the ‘pernicious influence of Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya must be cried a halt to’ in order to save Indian Philosophy. Unfortunately for him, history is not on his side. There is no ‘pernicious influence’ to fear from Debiprasad. All that he meant to do was to drive some sanity into the heads of students of Indian Philosophy. Nobody claims that he succeeded a hundred per cent in this endeavour. But as Bhavabhuti assured us a long time ago, the world is vast and time endless. Kaalohyayam niravadhih vipulaa cha prithvi. History does not run out of time and the time of Lokayata will dawn one day.

Dr. G Ramkrishna is the Chief Editor of Hosatu, a progressive periodical in Kannada. He was Professor of English at National College, Bangalore and a Visiting Professor at Kannada University, Hampi. He is the author a number of books in Kannada and English including The Strange Culture of M.S. Golvalkar,  The Living Marx, and Philosophy in China (in English), The features of the Anti-Fascist Movement, RSS – A Poisonous Tree, On Hindutva (Kannda)
Email ID: dgrkrishna@gmail.com

Read More