Indias past, philology, and

classical Indian philosophy

ALEX WATSON

TO acquaint ourselves with what may

have happened in South Asia in the
deep past, we rely primarily on things
that happen to have survived from
that time, such as texts, archeological
remains, monuments and other kinds
of artefact. To investigate specifically
what South Asians thought, as opposed
to what they did, it is the texts that are
of supreme importance. Indeed insofar as thoughts are constituted entirely
out of concepts derived from language
a position taken by some but not all
of Indias1 pre-modern philosophers
the literary compositions preserved in
manuscripts and inscriptions afford us
the possibility of entering into the minds
of thinkers removed from us by many
centuries.
The distinction between texts
and manuscripts should be clear.
Kalidasas Meghaduta (Cloud
Messenger), say, is one text. It is preserved in a number of manuscripts.
A manuscript is a physical object;
a text is a literary composition.2 The
fact that a text consists not of matter
but of language means that whereas a
manuscript can be observed by sight
and touch (and, I suppose, smell and
taste!), a text can be observed by sight
1. In this article I use India and Indian as
synonymous with South Asia and South
Asian.
2. I am here, for simplicitys sake, reducing a
threefold distinction between works, texts
and manuscripts into a twofold one.

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(i.e. by reading it) and by hearing.

Indeed many of Indias oldest texts
were composed without any recourse
to writing and were preserved for
many centuries not by manuscripts,
but by oral-transmission.
It was probably from the last
few centuries BCE that manuscripts
(in Sanskrit and Prakrit) began to be
written and copied in India. While
many texts survive from earlier than
that period, no manuscripts survive
from as far back as that. The texts that
have come down to us from Classical
India typically exist only in copies of
copies of copies of copies Since
scribes are human, copying mistakes
enter the transmission at every stage.
Thus when I mentioned above texts,
archeological remains, monuments
and other artefacts that have survived
from the past, I was eliding an importance difference between the first of
those and the rest. An artefact, a statue
say, that survives today is the same
statue that was produced previously.
A text that survives today, by contrast,
will have gone through numerous small
changes each time its manuscripts are
copied.
Some of these may be deliberate
modifications on the part of a scribe.
But many will be inadvertent. If so, they
may result in a nonsensical, ungrammatical sentence. Or they may result
in a corruption that is harder to spot, one
that contains no syntactical flaw. Thus

to be a pukka Sanskrit philologist,

which simply means someone capable
of accurately understanding texts
written in Sanskrit, one must also be a
text critic, that is to say someone
capable of identifying these many corruptions and presenting hypotheses
about what the author actually wrote.
This is time-consuming and labourintensive work, ideally involving as
it does the collation of all available
manuscripts of a text. But once one
has become aware of the huge number
of corruptions existing in the manuscripts and printed editions based on
those manuscripts of every surviving classical Sanskrit text, it is work
that comes to seem indispensable.

am making this point because many

assume that a printed edition of a Sanskrit text can unproblematically be
assumed to be the words of its author.
Those who proceed on this assumption erect an edifice of knowledge
on shaky foundations. The eureka
moment that consists in diagnosing
and removing a corruption takes one
closer to the thoughts of an author. It
is comparable to the fine-tuning of a
radio dial such that extraneous noise
and distortion reduce, allowing a voice
to come across with more clarity and
less interference. To read over corruptions without being aware that they are
corruptions results in at best fuzzy and
at worst incoherent thoughts being
wrongly attributed to the author.
The other reason for my dwelling on this point is to introduce readers
to one of the ideological divides in the
field of Sanskrit studies. There are
those who affirm the indispensability of
this text critical work (the creation of
new, improved editions based on the
collation and comparison of manuscripts and parallel passages); and there
are those who see it as actually holding
back progress by being overly preoccupied with small issues of wording.

here are two ways in which the field

can be advanced: by the provision of
new data, and by the construction of
new analyses of previously available
data. The providers are the philologists, working with manuscripts and
producing, based on those, printed editions and translations. The constructors are theorists or historians of social
and political formations, of science, of
philosophy, of religion, of literature.
The providers work at the cutting edge
of the mine or the quarry, as it were,
chipping away to extract gems and
marble. The constructors use these to
create edifices of relevance to their
own sub-field. Presented like this, it
looks like we have a division of labour,
rather than a battle. But it is both, for
the constructors frequently accuse the
providers of being unable to think creatively, unaware of the wider picture,
and obsessed with inconsequential
minutiae. University positions, they
argue, should not be given to those
scholars but rather to people who
actually do something with the material. And the providers often accuse
the constructors of being insufficiently familiar with primary sources,
cavalier in their use of them, and more
concerned with the sensational than
the true.
An American philosopher (Richard Heck) tells his students that there
are essentially two ways one can challenge others claims: by asking either
oh yeah? or so what?, the first doubting accuracy and the second doubting
relevance. The providers throw the oh
yeah? question at the constructors and
the latter throw the so what? question
at the providers. I am not sure of the
extent to which this infighting harms
or helps the discipline. It may be that
it provides a helpful curbing of the
excesses of both sides.
I do not feel the need to come
down on one side to the exclusion of
the other, given that I see both as nec-

essary. But I do oppose those who

see text critical work as dispensable.
A knock-down argument here is the
enormous extent of unpublished Sanskrit literature. How many Sanskrit
manuscripts exist? We do not know the
answer, but a recent educated guess
places them at thirty million.3 The
number of surviving Greek manuscripts, for the sake of comparison,
is about thirty thousand. It is only a
minute fraction of surviving Sanskrit
texts that have been published, let
alone studied in detail. This alone
points to the desirability of having
an army of philologists engaged in the
production of critical editions, even if
they are not simultaneously engaged
in work of interest to those who do not
know Sanskrit.

y own approach has been to start

by taking a not previously translated
text, or a part of a text,4 to collect
manuscripts, prepare an edition that
improves upon the editions published
so far, and prepare a heavily annotated
translation. I regard that as a necessary precursor to further analysis.
Indeed for three of the texts I have
3. See Dominik Wujastyk, Indian Manuscripts, in Jrg Quenzer and Jan-Ulrich
Sobisch (eds.), Manuscript Cultures: Mapping
the Field. 2014.
4. The Nareshvaraparikshaprakasha (a
commentary on An Examination of the
Soul and God by Sadyojyotis), the Matangavrtti (a commentary on the Agama known
as The Elephant), and the Paramokshanirasakarikavrtti (a commentary on The
verses that Refute the Conceptions of Liberation Advanced by Other Schools by
Sadyojyotis), all three composed in Kashmir
by Bhatta Ramakantha, a 10th century adept
in the tradition of Shaiva Siddhanta; the
Nyayamanjari (Flower-Garland of Logic),
composed in Kashmir by Jayanta Bhatta, a
9th century philosopher in the tradition of
Nyaya; and the Haracaritacintamani (The
Wish-Fulfilling Jewel that Tells of the Exploits
of Shiva), composed in Kashmir in the 13th
century by Jayadratha, a Shiva bhakta. The
articles and large parts of the books are available here: http://harvard.academia.edu/
AlexWatson
SEMINAR 671 July 2015

31

worked on the Nareshvaraparikshaprakasha, Matangavrtti

and Paramokshanirasakarikavrtti
(see footnote 3) it was simply not
possible to accurately apprehend the
authors thoughts on the basis of the
existing editions, so full were they of
corruptions. For a fourth, the Nyayamanjari, an edition exists that is not
bad. But even here, if one takes the
time to consult two manuscripts
neglected by the editors one written
on birch bark in Sharada script, and one
on palm leaf in Malayalam script
then improvements can be made that
result in previously inaccessible
nuances of thought coming across.
But if my research were to end
with this philological groundwork, it
would hardly motivate me to rise from
bed in the morning. While that attention to linguistic detail brings a certain
satisfaction, the exciting part is what
it enables: a further examination of and
engagement with the philosophical
ideas. In this second stage I approach
the material not merely as a passive
observer, but as a fellow participant in
the debate in question.

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uch of my energy for the study of

Indian philosophical texts derives from
a sense of their as yet untapped potential for enriching contemporary philosophy. It may seem strange to some
that ideas from the distant past could
be enlightening today. Are not such
ideas of merely historical interest?
The history of physics, for example,
holds no claim on a physicist. A physicist may well be interested in the history of their discipline (perhaps to
remind them of how physics got to
where it is today, or to show them
where past physicists went wrong);
but if they are not, they are not losing
an opportunity to improve their physics. The history of physics is primarily history, not physics. Those who
engage in the history of philosophy, by
SEMINAR 671 July 2015

contrast, are actually doing philosophy.

That is one of the differences between
the history of philosophy and the
history of ideas or intellectual history, these latter two being branches
of history.5

here are two reasons for this difference between, on the one hand, the
history of philosophy and, on the other
hand, the history of science or the
history of ideas. One is the level of
immersion in, engagement with, and
evaluation of the ideas that characterizes the history of philosophy. They
are treated philosophically, not as historical curiosities to be assigned to an
intellectual museum, or epiphenomena to be set in their socio-economic
context. The other is that while there
is evolution and some progress in philosophy, past philosophies are not
rendered redundant by subsequent
ones. Some assertions put forward by
philosophers in the past may have
turned out to be empirically falsified.
But in that case they were not philosophical assertions but empirical ones.
During the last century there
was a shift among metaphysicians
away from idealism towards realism
(and among philosophers of mind
from dualism towards physicalism).
But that was not because idealism (or
dualism) was refuted. The spotlight
shifted towards this new terrain because of a growing awareness of different, neglected territory waiting to
be explored. But an exclusive focus
on this new territory leads to the older
approaches and paradigms remaining
in the dark and their potential insights
being unavailable. Thus philosophers
would do well to remind themselves
of the history of their discipline in

5. See Bernard Williams, Descartes: The

Project of Pure Enquiry, 1978, p. 9; and the
concluding chapter of Adrian Moore, The
Evolution of Modern Metaphysics; Making
Sense of Things, 2011.

order to become aware of the limits

of their current methodologies and
preoccupations. To look to past philosophies for inspiration is not, or
certainly need not be, conservative.
It rather affords the radical possibility
of challenging the narrow horizons
of the discipline as it is conducted
today.
While this assertion of the relevance and value of the history of philosophy has required some defence, to
combat those who over-generalize
notions of progress from the natural
sciences and technology, surely the
relevance and value of studying the
belletristic literature of the past
requires no such defence. The fact
that a novel has been written in our
own time does not mean that it will
move us more, or teach us more about
human nature, than a work written by
Kalidasa.

uch of my own work in the History of Indian Philosophy is concerned

with a complex of enduring philosophical problems, those that surround
personal identity.6 What, if anything,
is the essence of a sentient being?
How long does an individual being
last? Am I numerically the same thing
as I was just after I was born (even if
I no longer contain any cells that I
6. The Self s Awareness of Itself. Bhatta
Ramakanthas Arguments Against the Buddhist Doctrine of No-Self. Vienna, 2006.
Ramakanthas Concept of Unchanging Cognition (nityajnana): Influence from Buddhism,
Samkhya and Vedanta, in J. Bronkhorst
and K. Preisendanz (eds.), From Vasubandhu
to Caitanya. Studies in Indian Philosophy
and Its Textual History. Papers of the 12th
World Sanskrit Conference, 2010a, Volume
10.1, pp. 79-120. Bhatta Ramakanthas
Elaboration of Self-Awareness (svasamvedana), and How it Differs from Dharmakirtis
Exposition of the Concept, Journal of Indian
Philosophy 38(3), 2010b, pp. 297-321. The
Self as a Dynamic Constant; Ramakanthas
Middle Ground Between a Naiyayika Eternal Self-Substance and a Buddhist Stream of
Consciousness-Moments, Journal of Indian

did then)? What are the criteria for

individuation of people? Is a human
being a thing or a process? Is it incoherent to claim that one and the same
individual could continue to exist after
the death of its body? On the one hand
were various Buddhist views claiming
that we have no self, no essence, that
we are changing not only qualitatively but also numerically in every
single moment, that we are a process
rather than a thing. These views
attained a new level of sophistication with Dignaga (ca. 470-530) and
Dharmakirti (6th or 7th century). On
the other hand were various thinkers
belonging to the text-traditions of
Nyaya (e.g. Vatsyayana, Uddyotakara,
Bhasarvajna, Jayanta Bhatta), Vaisheshika (e.g. Prashastapada, Shridhara,
Vyomashiva) and Sankhya who
claimed that we have an eternally
unchanging self. In the middle ground
between these extremes we find the
Mimamsa view of Kumarila (an older
contemporary of Dharmakirtis) and
the views of various Jain philosophers.
Then there were others who came
up with views different from all of
the above: Advaita Vedantins such as
Shankara and Mandanamishra, Vaishnava Vedantins such as Yamunacarya,
Ramanuja, Madhva, Jayatirtha and
Vyasatirtha, Non-Dualistic Shaivas
such as Utpaladeva and Abhinavagupta, Dualistic Shaivas such as
Narayanakantha and Ramakantha.

he coexistence within the Indian

tradition of rational debate of so many
opposed groups is in itself remarkable
and has not yet received the attention it
Philosophy 42(1), 2014, pp. 173-193. And see
forthcoming articles in Purushottama
Bilimoria (ed.), Routledge History of Indian
Philosophy, Routledge, London; and in Joerg
Tuske (ed.), The Bloomsbury Research Handbook to Indian Epistemology and Metaphysics, Bloomsbury, London.
7. Personal communication, Jonardon Ganeri,
6 November 2013.

deserves neither inside the academy

nor among the politicians or general
public who make essentialist pronouncements about the Hindu tradition or the Sanskrit tradition. As
knowledge of this Sanskrit tradition
of philosophical debate between
the various schools becomes more
widespread, these one-sided characterizations will become untenable
invalidated by the spectacle of a far
greater diversity that was contained
within, and celebrated by, these schools.

ontemporary Euro-American philosophers tend to address the issues of

selfhood enumerated above in ignorance of the fact that sophisticated
South Asian intellectuals have been
reflecting on them for many hundreds
of years longer than western thinkers;
many of the issues that arose in Europe
in the period between Descartes and
Kant had already been debated in
India for the previous thousand years
in ways that overlap, but differ in
unexpected and revealing ways, for
example by making use of different
distinctions. There is a growing awareness within the discipline of Philosophy of its parochialism and need to
internationalize. Some who have been
trained exclusively in western philosophy are looking to, and drawing on,
the Indian material. Once more scholars emerge who are trained to access
and make analytical use of both the
South Asian and the western material,
the encounter between the two traditions is sure to yield new perspectives
on a variety of problems.
It is my hope and there are
some signs that it is not an unrealistic
one that Indian philosophy will
soon begin a similar trajectory to that
taken by Greek philosophy in the
middle of the twentieth century, when
it moved from being restricted to
Classics syllabi to becoming a mandatory part of every philosophy degree.7

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