January 02, 2012
The Bhagavad Gita Revisited - Part 2
by Namit Arora
(Why the Bhagavad Gita is an overrated text with a deplorable morality at its core. This is part two of a two-part critique. Part 1 is the appetizer with the Gita’s historical and literary context. This is the main course with the textual critique.)
The Bhagavad Gita, less than one percent of the sprawling Mahabharata, contains 700 verses in 18 chapters. It opens with Arjuna’s crisis on the battlefield, right before the start of the Great War. Turning to his friend and charioteer, Arjuna cries out,
‘O Krishna, I see my own relations here anxious to fight, and my limbs grow weak; my mouth is dry, my body shakes, and my hair is standing on end. My skin burns, and the bow Gandiva has slipped from my hand; my mind seems to be whirling.’
Arjuna is one of the bravest warriors alive and this visceral physical response, it is amply clear, is not due to performance anxiety, or fear of injury or death. Rather, it arises from Arjuna’s grave doubts over whether he is doing the right thing. He and his Pandava brothers wanted a minimally fair share of their material inheritance, but the devious, stubborn, and unjust Kauravas rebuffed them repeatedly. Though his cause is righteous enough, Arjuna now feels that the ends do not justify the means. He continues,
‘O Krishna, I have no desire for victory, or for a kingdom or pleasures. Of what use is a kingdom or pleasure or even life, if those for whose sake we desire these things—teachers, fathers, sons, grandfathers, uncles, in-laws, grandsons and others with family ties—are engaging in this battle, renouncing their wealth and their lives? Even if they were to kill me, I would not want to kill them, not even to become ruler of the three worlds. How much less for the earth alone? … We are prepared to kill our own relations out of greed for the pleasures of a kingdom. Better for me if the [Kauravas] were to attack me in battle and kill me unarmed and unresisting.’
Who among us can fail to be moved by Arjuna’s anguish? Hopelessly confused, Arjuna pleads with Lord Krishna to show him the way. Krishna obliges, taking on the role of a teacher to help Arjuna figure out the right course of action, which Krishna believes is to fight this war. The wisdom of the Gita—and the claim that it remains a relevant guide to our inner battlefield—is inseparable from Krishna’s advice to Arjuna. So to evaluate the Gita, we need to evaluate the arguments Krishna uses to persuade Arjuna to fight. How good are these arguments?
I’m aware that my reading of the Gita—like every other reading of it—is subjective and selective; I know that there are other ways of reading it. I’ve approached the Gita as expository literature, using the same yardsticks of truth and beauty that I take to other literary texts. I agree with Eknath Easwaran, an admirer and well-known translator of the Gita, when he says, ‘To understand the Gita, it is important to look beneath the surface of its injunctions and see the mental state involved.’ I’ve tried to do the same. I know that the Gita is not ‘mere literature’ to millions of Hindus, including many of my family and friends. It is also sacred scripture, guide to practical wisdom, source of personal and social identity, cultural and national pride, and more. My intention is not to offend but this book review will likely unsettle many; a few will respond in angry and defensive ways. May they find in the Gita the wisdom to forgive my indiscretions.
Get Up and Fight!
Imagine the scene. Having charioted Arjuna into the war zone with two vast armies arrayed against each other, Krishna watches Arjuna’s meltdown. Baffled by it, Krishna proceeds to shame Arjuna by calling his meltdown a ‘weakness in a time of crisis’, which is ‘mean and unworthy’ of him. He urges Arjuna to ‘arise with a brave heart and destroy his enemy.’ Refusing to fight, Krishna warns, will lead to loss of honor, which is worse than death. Arjuna will lose the respect of others and be ridiculed by his enemies, who will taunt him and call him a coward. ‘What could be more painful than this?’
Krishna continues, ‘Considering your dharma, you should not vacillate. For a warrior, nothing is higher than a war against evil’. Such a war should delight Arjuna, for it will guarantee him a place in heaven. If Arjuna dies in battle, he will attain heaven; if he wins, he will enjoy the earth. So what’s his bloody problem? A red flag for me here is the fact that Krishna takes Arjuna’s duty for granted, avoiding the thorniest of all problems with duty: how does one know what it is? Later on in the Gita, Krishna reveals how he thinks about it: one’s duty depends on one’s place in the caste hierarchy, which is ‘based on [one’s] nature.’ ‘By fulfilling the obligations one is born with, a person never comes to grief. No one should abandon duties because he sees defects in them’ and ‘by devotion to one’s own particular duty, everyone can attain perfection.’
But Arjuna remains unmoved as Krishna tries to shame him, hold up rewards, and remind him of his duty. Arjuna simply cannot imagine fighting elders he reveres, like Bhishma and Drona. He is not sure where his duty lies. Doesn’t his duty as a warrior conflict with his duty to not slaughter his kin and elders? Isn’t there a point when the means of upholding dharma risk pushing one into adharma? Arjuna would rather spend his life ‘begging than to kill these great and worthy souls.’ His will paralyzed, he complains of ‘a sorrow that saps all his vitality.’ Krishna, realizing that Arjuna’s crisis is pretty serious, shifts his strategy. He wheels in some heavy-duty philosophy into his arguments.
Krishna could have argued that this is a ‘just war’, that Arjuna’s relatives are aligned with an evil large enough to justify killing them—but he does not. Both of them indicate that the cause they’re fighting for is to obtain for the Pandavas their share of the kingdom. If a larger cause is at stake—such as restoring righteousness on earth—Krishna neither elaborates one, nor invokes it to make a case for ‘just war’ in the Gita, preferring other arguments. So rather than offer up hypothetical reasons or apologia on behalf of Krishna, we should judge the Gita in light of the arguments for war that he does actually make in it, especially the ones he repeatedly makes—which is what I intend to focus on in this essay.
The Metaphysics of Detachment
The Gita’s core metaphysics is based on the Upanishads, which represent, in my view, a major milestone in the history of abstract thought and a great leap in conceiving our relationship to nature. At the risk of oversimplification, I’ll summarize the metaphysics of the Upanishads by saying that they speak of a formless and all-pervasive vital force, or Brahman, which is the Ultimate Reality beneath the world of shifting appearances. Our own life force, the Self, or atman, is but one manifestation of Brahman, and it has the same nature as the atman of other beings, such as a dog’s. Atman is immortal; after the death of a body it migrates to inhabit another body. Grasping the true nature of atman and its essential unity with Brahman is what enables one to attain Moksha, or release from the endless cycle of rebirth—a preeminent individual pursuit. To attain Moksha, one must penetrate his or her veils of illusion and realize the truth of Brahman—a bracing view of reality as it might appear to the ‘cosmic eye’. In this view, our dualist conceptions of the world fall away, revealing the deeply interwoven strands of the phenomenal world (some dualist ideas based on samkhya metaphysics also appear in the Gita). Nor are humans at the center of life or creation; in fact, particular human lives and concerns are seen as entirely insignificant in cosmic terms.
Krishna interprets this metaphysics to support a tangible objective, namely, persuading Arjuna to fight. Krishna’s is not the only possible interpretation, nor the most sensible one. Indeed, he belongs in the long line of shrewd characters who have bent metaphysics to their own ends. For instance, consider this interpretation: Krishna tells Arjuna that his sorrow is misguided. Those who grasp the true nature of reality, he says, ‘grieve neither for the living nor for the dead. There has never been a time when you and I and the kings gathered here have not existed, nor will there be a time when they will cease to exist. … The body is mortal, but he who dwells in the body is immortal and immeasurable. Therefore, Arjuna, fight in this battle.’ It is out of ignorance of the true nature of reality, he says, that we call one man a slayer, another man slain. ‘There is neither slayer nor slain. You were never born; you will never die.’ Krishna’s sleight-of-hand here lies in equating the people we care about with their atmans, and since atman is immortal, it matters not if their bodies are destroyed. ‘There could hardly be a better example of forked-tongue speciousness,’ wrote P. Lal (1929-2010), professor of literature and Indian Studies and translator of the entire Mahabharata into English, in the introduction to his translation of the Gita (1965).
Arjuna is still not sold, so Krishna presses on. O Arjuna, he says, ‘even if you believe the Self to be subject to birth and death, you should not grieve. Death is inevitable for the living … you should not sorrow.’ Every creature is unmanifested at first, is then manifested, and in time, is unmanifested again, so ‘what is there to lament in this?’ Krishna’s point is that if Arjuna’s arrow is what ‘unmanifests’ his uncle from earthly life, there is nothing wrong in it because it’s all part of a cyclical process. Ambedkar called this line of reasoning ‘an unheard of defense of murder’, adding that if Krishna was a lawyer today and pleaded such a defense for a client, there is ‘not the slightest doubt that he would be sent to the lunatic asylum’.
The Path of Selfless Action
The dialog continues. Krishna enjoins Arjuna to ‘seek refuge in the attitude of detachment … those who are motivated only by the desire for the fruits of action are miserable, for they are constantly anxious about the results of what they do.’ But in those who are detached, ‘all vain anxiety is left behind. There is no cause for worry, whether things go well or ill … thus they attain a state beyond all evil’ and attain Moksha. Several times he instructs Arjuna to ‘Act selflessly, without any thought of personal profit.’ This is to many, including Gandhi, the central teaching of the Gita.
On the face of it, this seems reasonable. What can be wrong with performing one’s duty without selfish desire and attachment? Self-control over one’s ego and passions are likely even good for one’s moral conduct. A thick skin against how others perceive our actions can sometimes be helpful. But a major problem lurks here. Krishna frequently talks about the duty that one is born into. ‘The distinctions of caste, guna, and karma have come from me,’ he says. ‘The responsibilities to which a brahmin is born, based on his nature, are self-control, tranquility, purity of heart, patience, humility, learning, austerity, wisdom, and faith,’ whereas ‘the proper work of the shudra is service.’ The problem is that Krishna never talks about the use of reason to figure out one’s duty—as the Buddha did—or to modify it in light of the potential and actual consequences of one’s action.
Without this corrective, the injunction to do one’s duty with total detachment serves only to bolster the doer’s equanimity, whatever the outcome. It becomes all about keeping the doer’s peace of mind, not about his impact on others. Rather than acknowledge that our worldly acts carry an ineliminable moral risk, the Gita says that this risk can be eliminated through a personal attitude adjustment. In this sense, the Gita’s idea of detached duty is less an ethical precept, more a self-help precept. As Easwaran writes: ‘Nishkama karma [selfless action] is not "good works" or philanthropic activity; [the latter] may benefit others, but not necessarily benefit the doer.’ And the Gita’s focus is relentlessly on the doer’s attitude while he dispenses his dharmic duty, not on what he actually does to others and its human impact. Krishna is thus able to ask Arjuna to perform ‘all actions for my sake, completely absorbed in the Self, and without expectations, fight!’ In The Idea of Justice, Amartya Sen too finds this problematic: ‘Krishna argues that Arjuna must do his duty, come what may, and in this case he has a duty to fight, no matter what results from it ... Why should we want only to "fare forward" and not also "fare well"?’
Krishna further elaborates what selfless action looks like and how meditation can help. ‘Those who cannot renounce attachment to the results of their work are far from the path’, he says. Those who conquer their senses, climb ‘to the summit of human consciousness. To such people a clod of dirt, a stone, and gold are the same. They are equally disposed to family, enemies, and friends, to those who support them and those who are hostile, to the good and the evil alike. Because they are impartial, they rise to great heights.’ They can control their turbulent mind ‘through regular practice and detachment’ to discover inner peace and joy by attaining union with Brahman.
Again, this stance is morally dubious and reflects the anti-humanistic sensibility that pervades the Gita. It may be good for achieving oneness with Ultimate Reality, but it is bad for moral life—it rejects the very idea that some actions have greater moral worth than others. It denies that some human bonds are more precious than others, which is part of what makes us human. This is the kind of detachment that can make moral villains out of men. It is a suitably desensitizing stance that can get a warrior to kill and feel no remorse, or to make us oblivious to each other’s human plight, as we pursue our given ideas of duty while upholding incoherent ideals like Brahman. As VR Narla put it, ‘while action without seeking some personal gain can be noble, action without any care for its evil consequences to other men [is] reprehensible, even diabolical.’
After all this talk, Arjuna longs to see a vision of Brahman. Krishna obliges and gives him a dazzling and ecstatic glimpse into cosmic reality, including his ‘radiant, universal form, without beginning or end’. While this is a brilliantly imaginative vision in many ways, Krishna unfortunately spoils it by infusing it with dubious morality. ‘I am time, the destroyer of all,’ Krishna tells Arjuna, ‘Even without your participation, all the warriors gathered here will die. Therefore arise, Arjuna; conquer your enemies and enjoy the glory of sovereignty. I have already slain all these warriors; you will only be my instrument.’ The war hasn’t even begun and Krishna says, ‘Bhishma, Drona, Jayadrata, Karna, and many others are already slain. Kill those whom I have killed. Do not hesitate. Fight in this battle and you will conquer your enemies.’ How comforting, to have the Lord of the Universe (or Ultimate Reality personified) issue a moral blank cheque to a man disinclined to slaughter his relatives!
The Path of Devotion
Krishna, now back in human form, tries another tack: Trust me! ‘Fill your mind with me; love me; serve me; worship me always,’ he urges Arjuna. In return, Krishna will take care of him. ‘You are dear to me,’ says Krishna. ‘Abandon all supports and look to me for protection. I shall purify you from the sins of the past; do not grieve.’ This is similar to the personal god in the mystical strains of many religions (e.g., Bhakti, Sufi), in which the mystic finds his rationality inadequate in knowing God and his design. Love and devotion—even rapturous ecstasy—help bridge the gulf the believer feels between himself and God. ‘By loving me he comes to know me truly,’ adds Krishna, ‘then he knows my glory and enters into my boundless being. All his acts are performed in my service, and through my grace he wins eternal life.’ But Krishna’s motives here are again dubious. He wants Arjuna to put all his faith and devotion in him and fight this war; in return, Krishna will ensure that no harm or anxiety befall him. The ostensible morality of the Gita, wrote DD Kosambi, is to ‘Kill your brother if duty calls, without passion; as long as you have faith in Me, all sins are forgiven.’
‘Many of the answers given by Krishna appear to be evasive and occasionally sophistic,’ wrote Lal. ‘Unable to satisfy a worried warrior’s stricken conscience with rational arguments, Krishna opts for the unusual—he stuns Arjuna with a glorious revelation of psychedelic intensity. He succeeds; [thereafter] Arjuna accepts whatever Krishna has to offer. Brain is overpowered by bhakti—but is it ethical to silence logic with magic?’ Arjuna, wrote Lal, is a ‘humanist hero who has risen above the demands of military caste and convention-ridden community. His plight on the field of Kurukshetra is not an abstract, condemnable intellectual perplexity that can be juggled away by "Cosmic Multi-Revelation." It is a painful and honest problem that Krishna should have faced on its own terms, painfully and honestly, and did not.’
Near the end of the Gita, Krishna ominously warns Arjuna: ‘If you egotistically say, "I will not fight this battle," your resolve will be useless; your own nature will drive you into it.’ Then almost immediately, he begins his closing remarks and makes a seemingly expansive gesture, ‘I give you these precious words of wisdom; reflect on them and then do as you choose.’ It’s the perfect opening to let Arjuna, without giving him a real choice, feel as if he is making his own decision. Arjuna promptly succumbs, a sad ending to the Gita. ‘You have dispelled my doubts and delusions and I understand through your grace,’ Arjuna says. ‘My faith is firm now, and I will do your will.’ At the end of the Mahabharata, nearly everyone on both sides is killed. The epic, writes Sen, ‘ends largely as a tragedy, with a lamentation about death and carnage, and there is anguish and grief ... It is hard not to see in this something of a vindication of Arjuna’s profound doubts.’
Not the Best of Its Age
How do the metaphysical and moral ideas in the Gita stack up against other contenders in its day, for example, the teachings of the Buddha and the Carvaka? Was the smart money back then on the Gita? These questions can provide us another data point alongside critiques based on modern standards.
Of course, as I noted in Part 1, there are a few morally good and many morally neutral injunctions in the Gita. Krishna occasionally urges the spiritual aspirant to do his work ‘with the welfare of others always in mind … guided by compassion.’ He adds that ‘when a person responds to the joys and sorrows of others as if they were his own, he has attained the highest state of spiritual union.’ However, such emphasis on others is conspicuous by its presence in the Gita, which otherwise obsesses over given duties, detached action, evenness of mind, avoiding certain passions (greed, anger, lust, etc.), piercing one’s illusions to find Ultimate Reality, and (for folks too simple to relate to Brahman) a total devotion to God. Further, Krishna seems not to notice any conflict between his morally good advice—for instance, to not ‘harm any living creature, but be compassionate and gentle; show good will to all’—with goading Arjuna to war and detached action. It’s almost as if the authors of the Gita felt compelled to acknowledge the ‘compassion meme’ of Buddhism (then growing at the expense of Hinduism) without thinking it through—the Gita neither articulates the basis for this compassion, nor reconciles it with Krishna’s advocacy.
That said, these empathic verses do leave the door open for a selective reading that is more charitable to karma-yoga, or the path of action. But it still remains a far cry from the Buddha’s central emphasis on compassion based on an active empathy with sentient beings, for they too suffer like us. He also advocated a far more egalitarian social ethics than the one implicit in the Gita. As historian Romila Thapar put it, ‘Had the Buddha been the charioteer the message would have been different.’ Going by the Dhammapada, he might have said: ‘They are not following dharma who resort to violence to achieve their purpose. But those who lead others through nonviolent means, knowing right and wrong, may be called guardians of the dharma.’ My goal here is not to score cheap points for the Buddha, or for Buddhism over Hinduism—I have no interest in doing so here, and this essay should not be read as such—Hinduism, as a living religion, is not what is written in an old poem; nor is Buddhism the same as the words of a teacher. My goal here is to evaluate the quality of ideas in the Gita in light of other ideas that were on offer to discerning people back then. For instance, here is how the Buddha approached dharmic duties and spiritual paths:
‘It is proper to doubt. Do not be led by Holy Scriptures, or by mere logic or inference, or by appearances, or by the authority of religious teachers. But when you realize that something is unwholesome and bad for you, give it up. And when you realize that something is wholesome and good for you, do it. ... Be prepared to let go of even the most profound insight or the most wholesome teaching. Be a lamp to yourself. Be your own confidence.’
Such ideas are alien to the sensibility of the Gita. Krishna instead wants all aspirants to ‘realize the truth of the scriptures’ and set their hearts on him and worship him ‘with unfailing devotion and faith’. Those who listen to him ‘with faith, free from doubts, will find a happier world’. The Gita’s Krishna wants us to live free from doubt, ‘in accordance with these divine laws without complaining, firmly established in faith’. Those who claim, ‘There is no God,’ are ‘demonic’ (an extremist position; two of the six schools of Hinduism embraced atheism back then). Nor are humans to be relied on to make up their own dharma. ‘Whenever dharma declines and the purpose of life is forgotten,’ says Krishna, ‘I manifest myself on earth. I am born in every age to protect the good, to destroy evil, and to re-establish dharma.’ Contrast this with the views of the Carvaka, a skeptic of the materialist school named after him, who had proclaimed centuries earlier that good and evil are mere social conventions; the soul is only the body qualified by intelligence—it has no existence apart from the body. Only this world exists, there is no beyond. The Carvaka held that the Vedas are a cheat; they serve to make men submissive through fear and rituals. Nature is indifferent to good and evil, and history does not bear witness to Divine Providence. Such qualitatively different worldviews coexisted with the one in the Gita.
Krishna frequently insists that a mind established in Brahman is free from delusion. One then lives ‘in peace, alike in cold and heat, pleasure and pain, praise and blame’. That Brahman itself is a grand delusion was something the Buddha realized centuries earlier, arguing instead that there is no objective, mind-independent reality that is accessible to us. In the second century CE, Nagarjuna explained why ‘reality’ inevitably depends on the cognitive structure of our mind, rather than on anything we can identify as fundamental, innate, or essential attributes of reality itself. In other words, there is no firm foundation to reach beneath the world of appearances. Nor is there a stable and unchanging Self. As our illusions fall away, we begin to see ourselves as contingent beings, inextricable from a reality that we shape and which in turn shapes us, rather than as beings able to detach ourselves to contemplate reality as it truly is (the so-called ‘view from nowhere’—much like the absurd, if poetic, Brahman).
Epilogue
The Gita adapted certain philosophical ideas that were surely revolutionary when they first arose and challenged the ritualistic Vedic religion. However, centuries later, in light of the contending intellectual and moral ideas of its day, it had assumed the role of a highly conservative tract, aligning itself with orthodoxy, authority, and hierarchy. Whereas I see the Mahabharata as great literature: many-layered, open-ended, and replete with the pleasures of a complex story, which also happens to have a decidedly anti-war sensibility. The Gita, as I noted in Part 1, was composed much later under the realities of a new age. It ‘is not an integral part of the Mahabharata,’ writes Easwaran. ‘It is essentially an Upanishad, and my conjecture is that it was set down by an inspired seer and inserted into the epic [later].’ To the extent it can be admired as a standalone text (a commonplace treatment, as standalone commentaries on it abound; there is even talk now of making it the first ‘National Book’ of India), it can be critiqued as one too.
In the context of the entire Mahabharata, the Gita can be read as a well-intentioned plot element (after all, the author felt the need to justify the war), where Krishna nevertheless comes off looking terribly disingenuous—he combines blatant anti-humanism with his authority and magical powers to brainwash Arjuna. (During the war, Krishna himself often does not do what he preaches in the Gita, though the gaps vary across versions of the story. Was it detachment from the war’s outcome that led him to repeatedly play foul and dispense murderous advice?) Some defend the Gita by saying that the Kauravas’ bad behavior made the war unavoidable and eminently justified. Perhaps, but that’s not the point. The point is about the quality of the arguments Krishna uses to persuade Arjuna to fight. If the best moral justifications for the war purportedly exist outside the Gita, and some of the worst inside it, what have we left? Given all the bad faith reasoning and the starkly instrumental view of human life in the Gita, which many saw through even in ancient times, what makes the Gita a work of wisdom? Why not get the Gita off its exalted pedestal in our minds and let it be an uncelebrated episode in the Mahabharata—an artful plot element in an epic work of literature?
Without drastic overlooking and embellishing (in the manner of Gandhi), I consider the Gita a poor moral guide to our daily lives. Why do so many people resist this idea? Perhaps they have neither read the Gita, nor any contrarian critiques; or they are being reactionary patriots about their heritage; or perhaps their faith in it is too strong. After all, which book deserves the sort of uncritical adoration that so many Hindus—especially among the highly educated members of the upper classes—have for it today?
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All Gita quotes in this essay come from Eknath Easwaran’s translation of the Gita, with embedded hyperlinks to a translation by the Bhagavad Gita Trust, which also presents every verse in Sanskrit, transliterated, commented on, and sung beautifully. Other online translations abound. The artwork in this essay was found via Google Images but the artists’ names were unfortunately not available.
Part 1 of this essay appeared on 05 Dec 2011. More writing by Namit Arora?
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Posted by Namit Arora at 12:40 AM | Permalink
Comments
The best way to understand a sacred text is to view how people live and experience. While Mr. Arora's heart may view these verses as containing a rotten morality the history of the Gita as lived by the people is one of great morality.
Posted by: Mathias | Jan 2, 2012 10:16:15 AM
-the history of the Gita as lived by the people is one of great morality.
"WAR IS PEACE,"
"FREEDOM IS SLAVERY,"
"IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH."
Posted by: Dave Ranning | Jan 2, 2012 11:53:51 AM
Although Mr Arora's reading appears a legitimate one, I can't help but think that such an obstinate literalism becomes wilfully tin-eared at a certain point. Given the epic and fantastical nature of the story, would a more nuanced and allegorical reading not be more sensible?
This would have the additional benefit of not implying that the billion-odd people who consider the Gita a divine scripture (incidentally, I'm not one of them) are bloodthirsty cretins who believe that massacring one's relatives is a fine and holy thing.
Any religious text is amenable to a similar hatchet job and perhaps Mr Arora should be commended for reminding us that not only the Bible and the Quran contain odious passages or can be subjected to odious readings.
Nonetheless, the idea of social and ethical duty is one that could be discussed and defended. To read Krishna simply as a dulce-et-decorum-est shill and demagogue for war risks missing the point. It may be that Gandhi's reading is more acute and more relevant than Mr Arora's righteous indignation.
Posted by: G | Jan 2, 2012 12:19:48 PM
G's comment is more correct than he apparently realizes. His third paragraph is true if we change his second "odious" to a word less obnoxious such as "correct." Yes, Mr. Arora should be commended. The world has seen enough horrors in the name of "bhakti" and "faith." Please.
Posted by: Richard | Jan 2, 2012 1:31:03 PM
Krishna as Iago... as the Serpent in the Garden... as... Christopher Hitchens?
Posted by: Steve | Jan 2, 2012 1:57:37 PM
Seems to me that it's essential to see the Bhagavad Gita in the light of the entire Mahabarata -- as Krishna says later, he guides Arjuna and his brothers (actually not all brothers, but that's another story) in order to sustain the light of the universe, and it's clear that he will do whatever is needed (lying, deceiving, even 36 years later dying) to do so. The Gita arguments, it seems to me, reflect what Krishna believes is required to get Arjuna to kill his half-brother Karnak, and are only secondarily a rational argument or a guide to life.
Posted by: John Garrett | Jan 2, 2012 2:24:05 PM
How is this defense of the Gita by some,based on it's "context" any different then the defense of some of the most vile and rotten passages contained in the Quran or the Old and New Testaments.
Anything can be defended if you bring in it's "context".
Posted by: Shahzad | Jan 2, 2012 3:17:46 PM
I'd be interested to hear how one can come to a moral judgement on an ancient religious/mythological text without context.
Posted by: G | Jan 2, 2012 3:54:42 PM
And cherry picking "contexts" is really moral when it ruins the lives of millions for generations.
The best defense Gandhi came up with for the Dalits was that they were children of God. Religons and their purveyors have always been in love with context and obfuscation of reality, which again is really moral, isn't it?
The burden of proof should be on these 'great' religons not vice versa.
Posted by: Shahzad | Jan 2, 2012 5:21:37 PM
G,
I agree that context is necessary. Did you see my second-last para that begins: "In the context of the entire Mahabharata, the Gita can be read as ... "?
Can you outline a popularly held context under which Krishna's arguments would seem inspiring and wise—and so fit for our "inner battlefield"? For instance, let's imagine that all civilized life depended on Krishna persuading Arjuna to kill his relatives, so Krishna rightly employed whatever duplicity, guile, and brainwashing necessary to persuade Arjuna (as John Garrett suggests above). Do Hindus consider the Gita profound because they see Krishna advocating a lesser immorality to achieve a higher morality? If they did, that would be something—and more in line with reading the Gita as a Machiavellian plot element in the context of the larger epic. But my point is that most Hindus don't read it that way. They read it as scripture, with the attendant reverence and authority.
Sure, reading a scriptural text allegorically to get past its problematic aspects is laudable in some ways. People do this with the Gita, much as they do with the Bible and the Qur'an. But doing this should not obviate the need to still try and lay out (a) what a text actually says vs. what we imagine it says, (b) why an allegorical reading or a dismissal is therefore necessary, (c) after all the allegorizing, what is left of the original content, etc. Such inquiries are commonplace for the Bible but not at all for the Gita. In fact, the educated upper classes in the West are most likely to criticize the Bible and least likely to defend it as great. Curiously, the dynamic is just the reverse with the Hindus and the Gita.
Posted by: Namit | Jan 2, 2012 7:12:30 PM
Arora seems correct to me; Krishna's quietism proves too much. Whatever your duty is, do it, because the apparent consequences are unreal?
There has to be some consideration of what one's duty really is, and whether one owes duty to a wicked cause.
Otherwise, Krishna could just as well counsel the commandant of Auschwitz to persevere, using much the same line of argument.
Posted by: Anderson | Jan 2, 2012 7:13:27 PM
The only useful context to read any didactic work - religious, sociological, secular, whatever, whether dictated by God, Marx or Hitchens - is what its followers make of it here and now. A text (or a religion) means nothing independent of the people who obey it.
I haven't followed this article in detail (My apologies. I find discussions of scriptures slightly more boring than the scriptures themselves.) but if there are a significant number of Gita-thumpers who read it the same way the writer does, he is right. Otherwise he is getting himself worked up over nothing.
Posted by: Ajit | Jan 2, 2012 7:37:52 PM
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."
(Sometimes attributed to Edmund Burke)
Well, all that was necessary for the Kauravs to triumph, was for Arjun to do nothing.
Now do you understand the Gita?
Posted by: Mal | Jan 3, 2012 12:08:57 AM
Hi Namit,
If your critique of the Gita considers it purely as a work of ancient literature, then your reading may be reasonable, but the moralistic tone seems a little overwrought.
If it's a critique of a philosophy by which people live, it would seem misplaced. Because I imagine hardly anyone takes it literally in the way that you do here. More benign, Gandhi-an readings seem to predominate. The battle is the struggle against the evil in the human soul etc. etc. Many millions of people consider it a text with a message that helps them make sense of life, and for the overwhelming majority, that that message is not 'go forth and kill'. I am happy to be corrected if I'm wrong.
What your piece seems to be missing is an engagement with how the text is received and 'lived'. As Ajit suggests, that's the sort of context that would render your reading either practically relevant or academic. May make a nice part 3...
Thanks for a well-written and thought-provoking piece in any case.
Posted by: G | Jan 3, 2012 12:16:01 AM
This is largely similar to the view I have always had reading the Gita and find its odd amoral "morality" not only strange but deeply disquieting. for the people who are interested only in the "use" of texts, there is definitely a fantastic project lurking somewhere in there for an intellectual historian looking at the rise of far-right thought in Germany in the 20th century and the "discovery" and vast philological interest in Sanskrit in the 19th.
in any case, two questions though, for the author:
1.) why the ahistorical use of the term hinduism? (No one walked around at the time of the composition of Mahabharata callings themselves "Hindus" who practice "Hinduism.")
2.) why the free pass for the Buddha and Buddhism? The Buddha merely democratizes the amorality you discuss so rigorously here. It is anti-reality and that "empathy" is spiritual, and fairly explicitly not material, empathy. Acceptance of place, authoritarian systems of thought, etc are all carried over.
Posted by: ajay | Jan 3, 2012 12:39:17 AM
On your arguments, six observations :
1. It is hard for me to know whether your reading is based on the *way* the Bhagavadgita was written unless you state so. It is widely believed that there were portions of the Bhagavadgita that were inserted into the Mahabharata later. The question, then, is : what were the portions that were later inserted? Why were they inserted? Furthermore, what was the *intent* of those who inserted the latter portions of the Bhagavadgita? I am merely pointing a deficiency; however, it is not necessarily a fatal one as such. I bring it up since I had emailed you about this before and did not get an answer to my question.
2. The other major question : who, according to you, is the intended audience of the Bhagavadgita? It is easy to make the assumption that a religious text is "other" directed, that is, it is directed at people who are *not* members of the religion. Hinduism has arguably not been an other directed religion. Christianity, on the other hand, has been. This cuts both way. Let us take the idea of philanthropy within religion. On the one hand, Christians have been philanthropic for centuries. The Catholic Church have established charitable missions with a view to provide educational and medical support to the indigent. Hindus, on the other hand, have not been very "other"-directed until relatively recent times. It is only following the Age of Enlightenment that we see a greater "other"-directedness in Hinduism. It is not that the idea of philanthropy ('daana') is unknown within Hinduism, but it is only with Vivekananda and Aurobindo that we see this as an ideology. To me, it seems that this was intended to appeal to those who were already Hindus, and is aimed at, among other things, providing a critique of Buddhism. It is a criticism that still stands (please see below).
3. The "Bhagavadgita" was not intended to convert others to a particular point of view. One of the major aims of the Bhagavadgita is to point out the inconsistency within Buddhism. Buddhism was a major threat to Hinduism and the Bhagavadgita seems to have been written as a response. Krishna's argument under this reading is, basically, "Do you want to pull a Buddhistic nonviolent pose on us? Well, then you are going go down the way of Tibet."
4. It seems that you are not giving Krishna his due. Any reasonable person given this sort of a situation would ask "Dude, why are doing this *now*?" And that is, in fact, Krishna's first question : "How has the dejection come to you *at* *this* *juncture*?" Krishna wouldn't have been so surprised if this had happened the day before the battle, but he certainly seems surprised that Arjuna is doing it right before the battle.
5. My argument with the game theoretic model (the one that I said was isomorphous to one of Avinash Dixit's models) was basically that Arjuna is wrong regardless.
a. If he didn't want to fight, then he should have simply refused to do so (just as Balarama did) well before the day of the battle. Balarama wasn't faulted for his action in choosing not to fight.
b. If he wanted to fight, then he should not have risked hurting the morale of the troops by pulling a "give me some strategy consulting services! fast!" right before the battle.
6. One can judge the quality of decision making advice provided based only on the state of the information at the time.
Given state of information & and decision choices C1, C2, ..., Cn, a decision-making advice is poor only if it does not take into account all the information & available at the time. One cannot fault Krishna for not talking about the Newtonian view of the universe because it was not available at the time. (One *could* fault someone for *today* relaying the same as scientific fact.) So, one cannot really fault Krishna in any of this at all unless one can show that he wilfully misrepresented the state of the knowledge at the time.
Also, perhaps contradicting Namit's opinion, I believe that Krishna's argument is, in fact, that the Kauravas are evil ("In order to deliver the pious and to annihilate the miscreants, as well as to reestablish the principles of religion, I advent Myself millennium after millennium", Chap 4.) and so his position *is* that the Kauravas should be fought because they are evil.
Arora asks :
> Can you outline a popularly held
>context under which Krishna's arguments
> would seem inspiring and wise—and so
> fit for our "inner battlefield"?
In many organizational contexts, operational decisions *are* clear once strategic choices have been made. (In the particular case of Krishna and Arjuna, the question that Arjuna raises is regarding the operational difficulty of actually killing people given the strategic choice of going to battle). But still, there may be various considerations that make actually carrying out the operational decisions tough.
Consider, for instance, the department at Apple responsible for developing and releasing the next generation of the iPhone. Should the people in that department not execute their organizational duty of releasing the iPhone knowing that it could potentially put many companies out of business? Should people at Apple stop work on the iPhone given that people at Microsoft might be out on the street tomorrow because of what they do? Should they not care about the Microsofties' families? The maxim "do one's duty regardless of the fruit of the labor" argues for releasing the iPhone given that the strategic decision to do so has already been taken and resources committed.
Posted by: Anand Manikutty | Jan 3, 2012 1:41:29 AM
Ajay,
Fair point about "Hinduism". It's like our term "ancient India" when there was no similar sense of "India" then. "Brahmanism" would have worked better. I used the term as a convenient label for ideas and schools that accept the authority of the Vedas, and which later evolved into Hinduism. What I did here is not so uncommon or confusing, is it?
Note that I haven't discussed Buddhism here. I mentioned the teachings of the Buddha (not the same as Buddhism) as a counterpoint to Krishna's teachings in the Gita (not the same as Hinduism), and I don't see how the Buddha's teachings "democratize the same kind of amoral 'morality'". Many historians attribute to the Buddha the first noteworthy ethical system in ancient India (the Carvaka's ethics are more sketchy), with his focus on suffering in this world, reliance on reason to understand our experience in this world, compassion for others once we recognize our common suffering in this world, advocacy of the practical middle-path, more equal status of women, etc. He was silent about God, rejected devotion to abstract deities, caste hierarchy, duties based on birth, the other-wordly Brahman, etc. So despite common roots, I think his ethics were a huge step forward.
Posted by: Namit | Jan 3, 2012 2:49:23 AM
The whole tone and tenor of this essay is based on the absence of logic or reason in the way Krishna comes out with his advice for Arjuna to take up arms against the Kauravas. Why should we always rely on logic alone? It is but one of the faculties we are endowed with. Equally important are Emotions, Will, Ego etc. When a child is in danger a mother may do the unthinkable or illogical thing to save it. Can we then say that the action is rotten at its core? This is the witnessing. Feel and be conscious of the flow.
Let's look at Amartya Sen's argument that many lives were lost in Kurukshetra and so Krishna's reasoning is flawed. In that case we could have saved millions of lives had the Allies not fought Hitler in the Second World War. Is that the prescription then?
Struggle for justice happens, whether we like it or not. Of course no sane person wants bloodshed. Buddha talks of compassion because there is non-compassion. If everything is orderly and inert there is no attention.
Posted by: KK | Jan 3, 2012 4:07:08 AM
I usually find commentaries on religious works to be either revisionist , juvenile or both. Namit's is no different...There are several assumptions least of which is the 'context' issue...
Some observations ...
1. Namit seems to think that he knows right from wrong and these are dealt in absolutes. I doubt if people really read the Gita to know right from wrong. If they do , they are simpletons. The very fact that one could argue the morality or ethical aspect of a certain action or event in a religious text implies that such concepts, (right , wrong , morality , ethics etc) are more common sense based than inferred from a religious text.
2. Krishna's arguments are irrational...blah...blah...who cares...if you think Kauravas are evil , arguments are merely the tool to coerce Arjuna to fight...how does it matter those arguments need to sound rational to you ? Are you Arjuna ?
3. Namit seems to worry about why people hold Gita in a exalted 'state' ? Have you read the bible or the koran...having read both of them cover to cover , I can safely say that I won't wipe my ass with any of them...they are just a piece of trash...but millions seem to think they are awesome....whom am I to argue with that ?
4. sometimes one gets the urge to do something that makes them feel like they have done something intellectually "stimulating"...I do feel that sometimes myself...but I don't get off my ass and start writing a juvenile commentary on anything...If Namit were to read his stuff a year from now , I wonder how he will evaluate what he has written here...
PS : I don't think Gita is all that it claims to be or people think it is..but that's my opinion. Religious texts make interesting read and in most cases throw some light on the times and society they came from...but beyond that don't give too much importance to them.
Posted by: Mark Twain | Jan 3, 2012 6:06:25 PM
"... sometimes one gets the urge to do something that makes them feel like they have done something intellectually "stimulating"...I do feel that sometimes myself...but I don't get off my ass and start writing a juvenile commentary on anything..."
Ah, Mr. Twain, but you just did.
Meanwhile, there are some among us who actually appreciate thoughtful writing that makes us look at an old thing in a new way.
Posted by: Isabel Van Kleek Lyon | Jan 3, 2012 9:59:50 PM
When I read the first part of this critique, I thought that Arora was being sensationalist. But after I read part 2, I remembered ... what I had felt when I actually read The Gita ...
Posted by: Vivek T | Jan 3, 2012 10:55:38 PM
I have come to this forum via ‘no-belief.com’ and therefore I am not surprised or ‘aghast’ in spite of myself being a sort of Hindu (as would be the case in the normal course with about 80 percent of those who like me are being born in that land area known as India by chance arrangement of ‘energy’ by nature), if I find someone there dissecting the ‘errors’ in the so called Hindu sacred scriptures because after the birth of a new god known as the ‘Almighty Internet’ I have seen his new holy prophets dissecting the ‘errors’ in the sacred Christian, Muslim or Buddhist texts even more mercilessly in other forums.
That being said I have a small nitpicking to do with Amit. I have seen him in one of his earlier comments seeming to be sitting in judgment about ‘superiority’ of Buddhism over Hinduism in some respect what ever it be and I consider it to be a great weakness in a prophet of the new Internet God because all emperors are naked equally as there is no such thing as less or more imaginary clothes on their bodies so that one can make comparisons. A new prophet who tends to make such comparisons is likely to be getting called either as a hypocrite or as an apologist for some gods incognito.
Posted by: ncp170 | Jan 4, 2012 1:44:03 AM
Hi Namit:
First, congrats on a well written piece, one that was quite enjoyable to read.
I have more than a bone to pick with your analysis, however. I do not agree with the following statement in your analysis :
> Many historians attribute to the Buddha
> the first noteworthy ethical system in
> ancient India
In the organizational view of religion, there is no such thing as religion. They are only religious organizations. And, furthermore, empirically speaking, one can indirectly learn about a religion by looking at the religious organization it created. So although one may find references to philanthropy in Judaism, it seems unlikely that Judaism before the Axial Age (between 800 B.C. and 200 B.C.) was "other"-oriented, that is, if you looked at the pattern of philanthropy by Jewish organizations, you would find that far more of the money went to Jewish causes than to non-Jewish causes, assuming that a significant amount of the contribution *did* got to non-Jewish causes in the first place. That is, irrespective of what the Torah could *today* be interpreted to mean, Jewish pilanthropy was not "other"-directed until relatively recent times.
Note that some complications are introduced by the existence of state support of organizations since in some sense, there is some economic value attached to state sanction of a particular religion that may not be directly measurable. (FWIW, I believe in the strict separation of church and state primarily because state support effectively implies a 'monopoly' of some sort and, consequently, lower economic welfare.)
Three claims in response to your arguments :
1. The Buddha's was *not* the first system of ethics in India
1a. The Buddha himself did not consider himself as the originator of the first system of ethics in India.
2. These two historical claims would not have been possible until the Age of Enlightenment. This is in the strong sense that the possibility of the Buddha not considering himself the originatr of the first system of ethics cannot have been completely ruled out until the first 'scientific' study of the religion.
Some supporting passages from John Keay's "India : A History" (*'s added by me):
'Most, however, agreed in condemning the extravagance if Vedic sacrifice in sidelining the Vedic pantheon, and in ignoring brahmanical authority. More many, including the Jains, Buddhists, and Ajivikas, recognised an assortment of antecedents whose teaching or experiences had in some sense *anticipated* *their* *own*.'
'In other words, Mahavira, the Buddha and Gosala of the Ajivikas acknowledged *well* *established* traditions of *heterodoxy*; and as one might infer from their own reception, they were able to capitalize on an existing thirst for spiritual and moral guidance, as well as on an abiding credulity.'
'The notion of continuous rebirths and the challenge of escaping from their endless cycle were common to both orthodox reachings derived from the Upanisads and t the Buddha's teaching. Buddhism *was* *not* a belief system, *not* *a* rival faith to the post-Vedic cults and practices which prevailed under brahmanical direction, but more a *complementary* *discipline*.'
The birth of Buddhism was different from that of Islam in that the founder did not find it problematic to acknowledge antecedents.
Also, there is reason to believe that there was no 'scientific' consensus on whether the Buddha even existed until the Age of Enlightenment. It was not until the relatively recent past that there was proof that the Buddha was a person who actually lived as opposed to a 'God'/'deity' imagined by the Buddhists ( a la Moses or Krishna). And so, what is most relevant to quote in support of your contention are only claims by post 18th century historians. Some of the historians you have cited (such as Wendy Doniger) may be post 18th century, but are not very empirically grounded, e.g., many of the statements in Wendy Doniger's book "The Hindus" lack empirical support.
There is no such thing as Buddhism, only Buddhist organizations, according to the organizational view. It is true that Buddhism is "other"-oriented, but what is the relative level of the philanthropy as practiced by Buddhists in past centuries as compared to, say, the philanthropy of present-day Americans? Much less, I bet. Perhaps, the best way to summarize that is to say that the Buddha did not consider himself as a 'substitute' but rather regarded himself as a 'complement', and he would himself not have considered his system of ethics as the first system of ethic in India.
Posted by: Anand Manikutty | Jan 4, 2012 5:19:05 AM
ncp170, you may have hit the nail somewhere in the general vicinity of the head.
But I disagree with your belief that all beliefs are equally imaginary. They are not just beliefs, they are also tools. Some work better than others, depending on the task at hand..
Posted by: omar | Jan 4, 2012 10:01:47 AM
In my reading of BG, I found a couple of contradictions. Early in the text, BG makes fun of Vedic rituals but in later chapters praises the Vedic rituals. BG appears to me to be edited by many people over a long time and hence does not have a clear consistent message. Moreover, I never understood the justification of the MB war. Pandu was an acting king because his elder brother's blindness. Moreover, Pandu's sons are not of royal lineage and were fathered by others. Hence, the Pandavas have no right to the kingdom and the position taken by illustrious teachers such as Bhishma and Drona to side with Kauravas appears to me as the the correct one. Moreover, do you really want a bunch of guys who marry one woman and loses her in gambling to rule a country?
Posted by: Uccai Siravas | Jan 4, 2012 2:52:06 PM
Very interesting. Thank you, Namit. You've articulated my own reservations on first reading the Gita, which I guess is not so surprising since I was also coming from Nagarjuna on the one hand and the epic as a performance text on the other. I wasn't aware that it was intended as a challenge to Buddhism (Anand M's comment), but that makes perfect sense now.
Posted by: Zara | Jan 4, 2012 7:31:38 PM
For many motivated readers, a favorite strategy for deflecting criticism of Krishna's dubious advice to Arjuna is to argue that, based on the events in the Mahabharata, the justification for the war is absolutely clear. I responded to this point in my essay but it's worth drawing attention to it again:
However, the case for "just war" is not at all clear in the Mahabharata. It's debatable—and not black and white—which is exactly what makes the Mahabharata great. For starters, expanding on Uccai's comment, the standard rules of succession were inadequate for the situation at hand: Dhritarashtra is blind, so his younger brother, Pandu, is made the king. But then Pandu lands a curse and retreats to the forest with his two wives, leaving Dhritarashtra to rule instead. Yudhisthira is the oldest son in the family but he and the other four Pandavas are not really fathered by Pandu (due to his curse), rather Pandu's two wives find some "divine" lovers in the forest (!), raising questions about the royal Kuru lineage of the Pandavas. Nor did Pandu rule anytime during Yudhisthira's life. So as the first son of the reigning and elder brother Dhritarashtra—who in his heart wants his son to be the king—doesn't Duryodhana, a warrior as skilled as any and an able administrator, have a claim to succession as well? I mean a case can be made, right?
Meanwhile, Duryodhana gets ambitious and wants the entire kingdom for the Kauravas, not just the better half of the Kuru kingdom that he will inherit. He loathes the Pandavas, partly because he saw them as uppity and mean to him in their youth, as princes are wont to be. So as an adult, Duryodhana is scheming and vicious to the Pandavas. But he can be kind to others, such as to the low-caste Karna. "Birth is obscure," he said, "and men are like rivers whose origins are often unknown." So while the Kauravas are not all-bad (it's worth noting that the elders, respected by both sides, end up supporting them, however reluctantly), the Pandavas are not all-good. They spurn and insult Karna based on his caste; Arjuna's pride leads to Eklavya chopping off his thumb—and his hopes and livelihood. Draupadi taunts Duryodhana and his father's blindness. And why does Yudhisthira get so little flak for gambling and losing everything twice, including his half of the Kuru kingdom (after being forgiven the first time, he is foolish enough to play again), even wagering his own wife's body? What kind of man does that? Can we trust his judgment again with a kingdom? (And this when his real father is none other than the Lord of Judgment, Dharma.)
Is it any less obscene that while Krishna, in the Gita, goads Arjuna to fight the supposedly evil Kauravas, he has asked his own Yadava army to fight on the Kaurava side—because he wants to be officially neutral! Countless foot soldiers get killed—pawns in the dharmic imperatives of big men, which we are so eager to applaud. The Pandavas, too, break the protocols of war and we rationalize it, why? Further, was it, or was it not, in the public-interest to continue the 13 years of Kaurava rule? These are all legitimate readings, befitting great literature. I think people are too often blinded by their instinct to defend the side "God" is on, or they are too easily seduced by simple narratives of good vs. evil. Anyhow, that's my take this evening.
Posted by: Namit | Jan 4, 2012 11:08:32 PM
Knowing the context, to me, means "getting to know" something the way you "get to know" a person. You must have had experiences like this:
You look at a work of art and you don't particularly like it, but then you learn something about it, the period, what the artist was trying to achieve, and then you learn to appreciate it. You understand its purpose, its function, its didactic value. You may have thought a work looks derivative until you realized it was revolutionary for its time.
Or you may have really not liked a person but then got to know them.
Or you may have tried a hobby and didn't like it (gym, piano, drawing), but then as you got proficient at it, you really learned to enjoy it. You "got it".
We all learn this lesson as children and later as students doing routine lessons and hopefully remember as adults - understanding requires not only patience but practice (direct experience).
I write this from the experience of someone who has tried reading the Gita and quickly realized the task is pointless. I cannot understand a spiritual text by reading it like any other book, because it is not read but practiced by the people to whom it holds meaning. Reading it is an act of practice. You feel the act in the body, much as you feel cold or the movement of the arm. Furthermore, I cannot know which passages, statements, or words are significant and which are not at all (scripture is typically used partially and highly selectively). And even if I did have a list of passages that are alive in the daily lives of people, how would I know what to make of them? The meaning is distributed over the text and outside the text.
That all knowledge is accessible in this manner, in plain text in our own language, for any curious person to read and judge impartially for themselves - that is a modern dogma.
A seeker of spiritual wisdom takes on the task of changing himself (his values, character, assumptions) as part of a spiritual practice, a way of life, in order to achieve personal goals (maturity, healing, meaning). If we are not in it to do this, then we are just reading words on paper, not scripture. It does not matter how long or how carefully you read, or how much you study the historical context, or if you learn the original language. If your heart is not in it, the best thing is to just let it go, the way you let go of a technical science text when you realize the investment required to understand it is too great.
Posted by: Vlad | Jan 5, 2012 11:19:35 AM
Enjoyed your in-depth analysis.
Obviously the Gita can be interpreted and lived in many different ways. Please consider this take, honed in a 45 session discussion series on Elephant Journal:
Bhagavad Gita in a Nutshell
http://bit.ly/eMXaRF
and this inspiring interview:
How To Live an Extraordinary Life. ~ Kripalu’s Stephen Cope
http://bit.ly/snwtO1
Bob W., Editor,
Elephant Journal
http://bit.ly/avpOmI
Posted by: Bob Weisenberg | Jan 5, 2012 6:23:55 PM
> I think people are too often
> blinded by their instinct
> to defend the side "God" is on.
> Anyhow, that's my take this evening.
From the organizational perspective, your argument would have 'salience' only if there were religious organizations actually promoting the interpretation that you have here. In other words, it is necessary for you not only to demonstrate the validity of your interpretation but also 'salience', that is, that this interpretation is salient to a certain organization or a set of organizations. There are no organizations that promote killing as a means of 'liberating' other people from their 'samsaara' (that is, the cycle of birth and death) in India, Canada and the United States, based on their reading of the Bhagavadgita, and so it is unclear to me to what extent your arguments have 'salience'. The point is not to support either Krishna or Arjuna or Duryodhana. I personally think that they are all flawed characters, but that is a perfectly valid interpretation within a Socratic analytical framework.
To be sure, the organizational perspective only covers the 800 million Hindus in India and America, but that seems to be a sufficiently large base population to base hypotheses on.
Posted by: Anand Manikutty | Jan 6, 2012 4:01:34 AM
Sorry for my hit and run comment above. I was short on time last night.
Since most ancient texts are richly self-contradictory, a logical person has no choice but to make choices.
If one choose the most negative aspects of a text, one will come to the conclusions the author does here.
If, on the other hand, one chooses the most positive aspects, then that same text can be a soaring, inspiring handbook for daily living, as I’ve shown in very great detail in "Bhagavad Gita in a Nutshell” http://bit.ly/eMXaRF.
The same is true of the author’s beloved Dhammapada, about which I once wrote:
When challenged by my mostly Buddhist readers on this, I replied:
*****
To which my friends, of course responded by quoting the more positive aspects of the Dhammapada. (For the entire fascinating discussion, see Original Sin vs. Original Perfection http://bit.ly/dhq98w. And why not throw Christianity into the mix.)
Even more interesting, translator Easwaran himself found the Bhagavad Gita and Dhammapada utterly consistent, and revered them both, along with the Upanishads, as the three transformative guideposts in his life.
Enjoyed reading this article and all your comments very much, and I’m happy to discover 3quarksdaily. If anyone is interested in publishing a guest article at Elephant Journal, please let me know.
Bob W., Editor,
Elephant Journal
Posted by: Bob Weisenberg | Jan 6, 2012 9:08:22 AM
It seems to me that Namit is not contending the earlier point that the Buddha's was *not* the first ethical system in India. Many anthropologists would agree that vitually all societies have some ethical system or the other.
As I argue on my List, 'Don't be cruel to cows' is a reasonably good ethical system. In fact, for a Robinson Crusoe on an island with only cows, it is a complete ethical system. No other 'commandments' are needed.
I think it is a mistake to privilege the views of other historians (P. Lal, Eknath Easwaran) over one's own. In other words, 'no arguments from authority' please. While these historians may have been right, surely their main arguments could be outlined here without bringing in their (clearly) subjective interpretation. A few acknowledgements : the point on Aurobindo and Vivekananda was suggested by Prof. P. V. Viswanath. The decision analytical terminology used above is due to Prof. Ron Howard at Stanford. Howard's framework is arguably about as scientific (and therefore, non-subjective) and rigorous as decision analysis gets.
Posted by: Anand Manikutty | Jan 6, 2012 3:49:59 PM
There is a widely held belief among North Indians that the Mahabharatha should not be read at home since it can cause family rifts.
If you take Punjab, the state where the battles of Mahabharatha were fought, it seems to have the highest rate of property-related murder of relatives in India (including NRIs on visit), if you follow the news. Added to this is the new polyandry epidemic among Punjabis. Maybe there is something genetic to it as well? Who knows?
Posted by: Shankar | Jan 11, 2012 11:34:30 AM
Hi Bob,
It's best to refrain from labeling passages positive or negative. It's like pre-judging a food by how it looks rather than how it tastes and makes you feel.
If you put something skilfully into practice, and realize its wisdom in practice, then it becomes positive. If something appears negative, a good question to ask is: Why do I think it's negative? What is it in me that opposes it? Opposes what? Likewise, when something seems positive, it's good to be cautious. Am I simply padding my own ego, my existing opinions? What in me clings to them so and is this a good feeling? An affirmation hides a resistance to something, a tightness that is probably not contributing to our happiness.
The negative examples you listed are actually positive, uplifting guidelines to those who live them. Though they may sound oppressive or just not very fun, we should remember that they are meant to liberate people, to live more confidently, joyously, openly. It is just that the path to that is not easy.
In Buddhism, violent imagery (kill, cut, sword) does occur but it is sublimated to some specific aim. If we keep in mind the core teaching of loving-kindness, compassion, non-violence, then we must know something else is going on here, probably for a reason. Likewise, positive-sounding words might prove insufficient or disastrous when interpreted as simply appealing to our indulgent, comfortable-where-they-are natures. Religious texts are meant to challenge us.
The human need to form this or that opinion, that such and such passage (or person or thing) is negative or positive, and that the overall picture is such and such, is a compulsion that we can quit like any other through practice. It need not to be such an obstacle as making us feel like we have always "no choice but to choose". Is that not an oppressive state of being?
Texts can be contradictory, and the key is not to chose one or the other nor find some dialectical compromise. It is simply to take it in as a whole with an open mind and practice it, not to look at the glass and analyze it but to drink the water. This can be challenging. We are very quick to react, to like or dislike, agree or disagree, to be confused by contradictions. But when you get it, the contradiction disappears.
Posted by: Vlad | Jan 11, 2012 12:02:40 PM
Hi, Vlad. Thanks for your interesting thoughts.
I agree with you in some contexts. Yoga philosophy has certainly helped me develop the capacity to witness without judgment when called for.
However, in the context of a heated debate over ancient texts like this, and in response to the article here, one can't avoid judgments without dissolving the discussion into amorphous nothingness, and that's no fun!
Furthermore, the very passages I quote are filled with harsh judgments themselves, contradicting the very idea of dispassionate observation. They demand that one either submit to what one doesn't believe or take a stance.
I personally do not wish to return to the unthinking state of submission that I experienced under the stern eye of the nuns of my youth.
Thanks for writing.
Bob
Posted by: Bob Weisenberg | Jan 11, 2012 2:22:21 PM
Vlad,
I happen to think that civilized life depends on passing judgment, on calling one thing better and another thing worse. It is foolish to think that one can avoid this fundamental human instinct. Far better to cultivate our instinct to judge (and, as part of that, to know when to withhold judgment), than to decry that instinct. Sometimes it is perfectly OK to call a spade a spade. The notion that this is "a compulsion that we can quit" is far more oppressive to me. Sometimes the contradictions do not disappear, and some texts do indeed promote some inhumane ethical ideas as the norm.
Bob,
Many thanks for the compliments. While I agree with your response to Vlad, I have a different reaction to your previous response where you wrote:
I feel you are holding yourself back. Why this urge to focus on just the positive aspects and ignore the rest? Do you approach The Canterbury Tales the same way, or the Iliad? Why not read the Gita in its larger human setting of the war—with Krishna trying to persuade Arjuna to fight by using specific arguments and views of humanity? You run a journal that focuses on politics, among other things. What would you think of someone who judged the presidency of GW Bush based on his positive deeds alone, isolating them from his negative deeds, policies, and worldview? Is it not incumbent upon every smart critic to judge him based on his larger politics? Likewise, is it not incumbent upon us to read the Gita in its broader human setting, not just pluck isolated verses?
Doing so does not mean that you'll come away with the same conclusions as mine—you may not, but at least you would avoid implying that only some bits of the text are worth looking at, and on that basis declare the "same text ... a soaring, inspiring handbook for daily living". I know that many decent people do this with their sacred texts. While I find it understandable and very human, I don't much admire such "faith-inspired" or otherwise uncritical readings of texts. I value a cultural space in which we can keep offering sharper critiques of our culturally significant texts.
Btw, the Dhammapada is not "beloved" to me. I cited ideas about dharma from it for comparative purposes, not to call it perfect. Texts do differ; some are more pathological than others. If that's the worst you can summon from the Dhammapada—which is a collection of aphorisms, unlike the Gita which has characters that are situated in an epic story—its morality seems to me superior to the Gita's. The quotes you cite from it reflect most strongly its prudishness and quaint ideas of personal virtue. Nothing like the objectionable ethical stuff I outlined in my essay.
Thoughts?
Posted by: Namit | Jan 11, 2012 6:41:36 PM
> Thoughts?
I agree with you entirely, Namit.
> I feel you are holding yourself back.
I don't think that one can assume that Bob and Vlad are holding back. May be they are, but may be they are not. Instead, I think that the approaches of both Bob Weisenberg and Vlad seem to be - and I am unsure if there is a more gentle way to put this - an exercise in apologetics.
I don't think the 'apologetics' approach serve Hinduism very well. It is far better to look at how a text like the Gita actually comes out in favor of a Bad - perhaps inadvertently. There is, in fact, an implicit assumption in America that with religion must come blind faith, and with blind faith must come apologetics for that blind faith. I don't think Hinduism is that sort of a religion at all. At least, Socratic Hinduism is not. A Socratic approach to Hinduism would expect you to honestly evaluate the merits and demerits of any (and every) belief system.
I must say that, as a Hindu, I do not find it in the least bit problematic to critique the beliefs of a Hindu book like the Gita. This is because I believe that there is a greater cause that is being served here, namely, the promotion of greater social welfare.
There are certainly things about the Gita that I dislike, but promotion of killing is not one of them. If one wanted to find fault with the Gita, one could find fault with this : one could find fault with the way the Gita supports 'casteism'. That is, of course, an ethical Bad, and so a strict no-no under the Socratic approach to Hinduism. Hinduism is not, in my opinion, a religion based in dogmatic “truths”, and so opening up the religion for inquiry rather than opening up more reasons to 'selectively read' seems to be the right approach, at least from where I stand.
Posted by: Anand Manikutty | Jan 12, 2012 2:06:35 AM
Thanks for your comments, Namit and Anand.
I have a very clear and complete answer to your responses, one that I trust might satisfy everyone.
I look at a text like the Gita from many different perspectives and enjoy them all--historical, religious, literary, moral, inspirational, psychological, philosophical, "spiritual but not religious", etc.
If I look at the Gita as epic literature, in context, as Namit does here, then I actually agree with all his conclusions. Look at the results of Krishna's warmongering advice to Arjuna--practically everyone ends up dead in the end. What would the results have been if Krishna had been a peacemaker instead of an instigator?
This would be true of most ancient texts. They all have reasons for us to discard them. Does anyone know what Moses and his followers did after being free from Egypt? They went out, at God's urging, and unmercifully slaughtered the next tribes they ran into who were in the land they wanted for themselves. (See "Exodus: The Rest of the Story—What Do You Think They Did After They Were Freed? http://bit.ly/xQJ4wW )
But these same texts are chock-full of soaring inspiration, too. So many of us decide to enjoy that on its own merits, making adjustments for the surrounding in which we find them.
When one does this, then, as I wrote initially, "Since most ancient texts are richly self-contradictory, a logical person has no choice but to make choices."
Bob W., Editor,
Elephant Journal
Posted by: Bob Weisenberg | Jan 13, 2012 2:07:24 PM
Bob,
It's true that we can all approach the Gita, or any other text, however we wish. As I wrote in my essay, none of us can escape subjective and selective readings of texts—nor can we escape elevating some readings over others. But as Goldberg says in the Exodus article you cite, "we’ve learned that denial of the shadow does more harm than good, haven’t we?" He adds,
In other words, Goldberg wants us to read the larger story, ask hard questions, and not settle for the easy choices (the kind that "might satisfy everyone"). I've tried to do that—to "expose the shadow" in the Gita using the best reasoning I could summon, hoping to persuade some folks. Thereafter it's a marketplace and I have to leave it at that.
Despite our divergent approaches to the Gita, I find attractive your civil tone and your openness to alternate readings in the marketplace—a far cry from the more common responses such essays get from dissenters: knee-jerk defensiveness, denial, chauvinism, anger, abuse, deliberate misreadings, obfuscation, and so on. I suppose these, too, are forms of subjective and selective readings. :-)
Posted by: Namit | Jan 13, 2012 8:01:48 PM
Thanks, Namit. This whole exchange has been a very enjoyable experience for me, and a great intro. to 3quarksdaily.
We actually don't disagree. I endorse everything you just wrote, and most of your article, too.
Mine is not a disagreement with you at all, but rather an "I agree with you on that dimension, now here is another dimension I like to enjoy as well, which actually requires one to ignore or radically 'metaphorize' the larger story and context to experience." See "Why Is the Gita So Upsetting At First?" http://bit.ly/pPn2hg
Thanks again for your articles and discussion.
Bob W., Editor,
Elephant Journal
Posted by: Bob Weisenberg | Jan 14, 2012 5:27:01 PM
I thought perhaps this may be of interest you.
http://maverickphilosopher.typepad.com/maverick_philosopher/2012/01/michael-sudduth-converts-to-vaishnava-vedanta.html
Posted by: ncp170 | Jan 22, 2012 1:33:25 AM
Namit,
I know I am in good company when I say that the basis of civilized life is tolerance. But yes, judgement is necessary for survival, though I think we agree that our skill at judgement can be improved.
The issue is not judgement but proper judgement, or to put it in Buddhist terms, observing ourselves judging rather than getting lost in judging. To further my previous metaphor, we must taste the food, feel it in our body, and see how we feel the next morning. Then, we are in a good position to say whether it is good for us or not. Judgement formed in the head before we have any direct experience of the thing may very well block the understanding we are trying to get at. Upon further inspection, we invariably learn that the spade is not a spade after all.
The argument is not, in any case, academic. People learn to experience for themselves how disturbing this instinct to judge is to their well being and the world, and are shocked by how they could not see it before.
Cheers,
Vlad
Posted by: Vlad | Feb 2, 2012 9:51:32 PM
I read your article and many of the comments. I would like to state a few points. Firstly, I feel that Gita is a very complicated text in the sense that it has long discussions on metaphysics and general philosophy but on the other hand it is also apparently aimed at some practical teaching. In its philosophical parts, it is aimed (according to many modern scholars) at reconciling the karma-sannyasa philosophy of the sankhya school with the Vedic idea of karma (in the form of various yajna) and offers as a solution nishkama karma. This too however is very simplified view of the philosophical side of Gita. Leaving aside, the philosophical side, there is also a side of practical teaching. Now, your essay seems to me a bit distracted in the sense that you have tried to cover too many things but without clearly demarcating the different aspects of the text. It however seems to me that you have mainly focussed on the practical teaching and its reception in India. I agree with you, Gita's teaching on morality is not very clear. I further agree with you that on the other hand, the teachings of Buddha are much simpler to comprehend and to an ordinary man's life, it would give a very clear guidance (whether one would think it as complete guidance or not is another thing). On the other hand, anyone with an analytical bent of mind, and not soaked by devotion will find it extremely hard to understand what is after all being told to us to do in the Gita. You spoke about Radhakrishnan but you may also have a look at the book by Mysore Hiriyanna. He has aptly said the Gita is an 'eclectic' combination of many different ideas. I wish you had separate sections in your writing as the metaphysical or philosophical aspects in the light of commentators like Samkara, Ramanuja etc. (more importantly Samkara) and also in the light of the modern Western/Foreign and Indian thinkers. Another section should have been written on the practical teaching, the context in which Gita was placed, the validity of its practical teaching, and above all the usefulness or uselessness of placing metaphysical or philosophical discussions along with moral or practical teachings in a specific context of war. Then another section could have been kept on the place of Gita in ancient Brahmanical and mediaeval Hindu societies. Finally, you could have added a section on Modern (Colonial and Post-Colonial) India's reception of the Gita. By proceeding in this systematic manner, I believe you could have yourself gotten better answers to many of the questions which you raised. However I feel you have instead given this article a most cluttered treatment. I greatly liked your powerful writing on both social topics like "On Caste Privilege", "The Blight of Hindustan", etc. and philosophical topics like "Atheistic Materialism in Ancient India", "On Knowledge without Wisdom", etc. but in this case, I feel your writing is clumsy. It can only be justified if the objective of your writing this article is stated as somehow impressing on the mind of the people (especially Hindus) at large that one should not accept Gita as a great teacher of our morality and duty by drawing them into debates and throwing them into confusion. To people who don't have any intention of accepting or rejecting Gita's teachings but who are interested in simply understanding what it actually says and then analyzing whether it is logically acceptible or not, your article may not be of much help. I wish you had made these second group of people as your target readers since the faithful irrespective of their faith or religion will perhaps not change his/her beliefs based on any critic's writing no matter how logical it is. And as you yourself rightly pointed out, a reverence for Gita (without reading it) does not lead to any special problem in the Hindu society. The problems in the Hindu society are caused by different sources. It may be true that even some really educated Upper Class Hindus show an uncritical attitude towards Advaita Vedanta philosophy of Samkara, the Bhagavad Gita and even the Vedas. But I don't think this work will help them re-assess their stances towards those. I feel your conclusion is that in an age post the revolutionary period where thinkers like Buddha, Mahavira, Ajivika, etc. on one side and Charvaka, Brihaspati, etc. on the other had appeared, the very attempt to justify conservative ideas like authority and hierarchy in the name of 'dharma' which is often thought as coterminous with virtue is ridiculous. If this be your claim, then to prove yourself correct, I think you have to read not only the Gita very accurately but also the entire philosophical literature including Sankara's Bhashya on the prasthana traya. Your manner of introducing ideas of Nagarjuna seemed unscholarly. You must remember realist schools existed in pre-Nagarjuna days even in Buddhism and the idealist school of Advaita Vedanta though heavily borrowed ideas from Nagarjuna yet ultimately was able to 'defeat' arguments of the latter's school.
To some other comment-writers who mentioned that Gita is an attempt at placing a check on Buddhism, let me add here that scholars usually believe the entire Mahabharata to be an answer to Buddhist teachings. As Namit has rightly pointed out, the teaching of the Mahabharata is largely pointing to peace (as witnessed by the mere size of the Santiparvan or peace chapter). It primarily talks of Dharma in the varna (caste) and ashrama context and tries to justify it but after reforming it in the best manner ever seen in Orthodox Hinduism. It was part of the phenomenon commonly labelled as "Counter Reformation" in India, borrowing a much later historical event in Europe for analogy. But Bhagavadgita was less directly involved in fighting with Buddhist ideas. Instead it was more engaged in reconciling opposing views within Brahmanical fold (as mentioned earlier by me).
Finally, with some hesitation, I would like to add (lest someone would think me as a great admirer of the Gita) that despite being a Hindu and being proud of the Upanishads, and the art and music and architecture associated with Hindus of the ancient and mediaeval ages, I find the Gita as naturally not appealing emotionally. Nevertheless I do not want to reject its sayings without completely reading its commentaries by ancient and early mediaeval Indian commentators.
Posted by: Anonymous | Feb 6, 2012 4:11:54 AM
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