Dynamics of identity in Indian thought

 One of the core tenets of Indian philosophy is that the only thing that is real is this all-pervading substratum that is variously called the universal consciousness, Brahman, universal Self, etc. 

One of the primary points of difference between Indian thought and Western science, is the nature of consciousness. As mentioned in some of my earlier posts, in Indian thought, we are said to not "have" consciousness, but "reflect" consciousness. In contrast, in Western science, consciousness is considered as a material outcome, or an emergent characteristic of interacting brain cells. 

In Indian thought, all material existence only reflects consciousness-- much like how all solid objects reflect sunlight. But sentient beings not only reflect the universal consciousness, but can also create an "image" of this universal consciousness-- the all pervading substratum-- to different levels of detail. This is somewhat like how few surfaces, like glass, mirror, polished steel, or water, not only reflect sunlight, but also form an image of the sun. 

The sentience we attribute to ourselves, Indian thought says, is just a reflection of the universal consciousness. Whatever is illuminated by the reflection is essentially the universal consciousness or Brahman, affecting existence through us. 

It is not that, such a theory was completely adopted in Indian thought. Indian philosophy also has a school of philosophy that is based on the material basis of reality-- much like modern science. These were called the nastika or the heterodox school of philosophy, of which the Caravakas are the most prominent. However, the nastikas have not found much support among other schools of Indian thought, all of which agree with the model of the all-pervasive universal consciousness. These were called the astikas or the orthodox school. 

The vast differences between the different astika schools of philosophies lie in the way they argue about where our sense of self or the "I" that makes up who we are, exist. Almost all astikas (except perhaps the Samkhya school of thought) agree that the universal consciousness that we all individually reflect, is just one. This is somewhat like how we can see an image of the sun in several bowls of water placed outside. It does not mean that each bowl of water has its own sun-- the images of the sun in each bowl, are of the same sun. While each image in each bowl may end up reflecting different parts of each of the bowls, it is not the individual images that is illuminating the bowls-- but the one sun that is reflected in all of them. 

Imagine now that each image of the sun in each bowl, thinks of itself as a separate individual-- separate from other suns in other bowls. This individuality we ascribe to ourselves is our "existential self" or ego, or what is called "jiva" or "atma" in Indian thought. 

The different orthodox schools of Indian thought, argue about the nature of our existential self and its relationship with the universal self. 

The Advaita school of thought argues that there is nothing else other than the universal self, and hence, there is nothing called an existential self. Our existential self is just Brahman entangled within Brahman to create a small echo chamber that appears as our existential self, and which primarily reflects Brahman. "Jiva Brahmaivanapara!" or "The jiva is none other than Brahman!" it argues. 

According to Advaita, the only reason that we don't know that we are Brahman is due to this entanglement (called Maya) created by Brahman in which we exist. Once we realise this knowledge, it paves the way to understand our true nature. 

A lot of other schools differ from Advaita in this regard. Some of them argue that the Advaitic argument is almost nihilistic, as it dismisses all forms of existential issues like ethics, morality, duty, etc. all to Maya, and calls them all unreal. 

One of the biggest detractors of Advaita philosophy is the Dvaita philosophy, that argues for a dual nature of reality. One of the earliest dualists are the Samkhya philosophers who argue that reality is made of two realms called the "Purusha" and "Prakriti" or "Reality" and "Existence". Both Purusha and Prakriti exist in their own right (called "simpliciter" in Western philosophy). While Prakriti is the energy or force driven by causality, Purusha is the substratum that forms the contours of reality. Prakriti can exist only as long as its dynamics are consistent with Purusha, and collapses otherwise. 

Samkhya argues that there are infinitely many Purusha and Prakriti duals that make up reality-- a claim that has been refuted by many later philosophers. The primary lacuna in this argument is that, if there are several Purushas, who determines the substratum of reality between their interactions? 

Other dualists, like Madhvacharya who propounded the Dvaita school of thought, argue that while reality (Purusha, Brahman, universal consciousness) is one, there exist infinitely many jivas (existential self). The primary element of Dvaita philosophy is "bheda" or "boundary". Dvaita argues for boundaries that separate jiva and Brahman, jiva and jiva (i.e. any two existential selves), and jiva and jagat (non-sentient existence). They are all different, and all have a unique existence-- it argues. 

Analytic Philosophy of Western thought (of which Bertrand Russell was a major proponent), developed in the late 19th and early 20th century, comes very close to such an argument. It argues that every concept and matter is "simpliciter" or has an existence of its own, independent of its relationships with any other entity. 

According to the dualists, we are not Brahman, but jiva-- or the existential self. The existential self can never be the universal self, much like the glass reflecting the sun can never be the sun. The existential self can however, polish and enrich itself to reflect the universal self much better. This process or struggle by which jiva strives to enrich itself to better reflect Brahman, is called Sadhana. 

The phenomenon of the jiva performing Sadhana to finally "join" or "harmonise" with the universal self, is called "Yoga" (yeah, somewhat different from what this term means today). 

There are different ways in which this Sadhana is performed, which are also called margas or pathways. The bhakti marga for instance, advocates devotion or commitment to a cause or idea by the existential self, as a means for getting better and better at something, and end up eventually reflecting one aspect of the universal self by way of its superlative expertise. 

While the concept of bhakti itself dates back to the Vedic times-- almost 5000 years ago, and primarily meant devotion and commitment, a much more recent phenomenon called the bhakti movement that began in the 12th century CE and lasted for a few centuries, and which had syncretic relationships with Sufi mysticism, also advocated surrender and submission to the divine, as part of its Sadhana. This form of bhakti involves us as the existential self, establishing a child-parent relationship with the divine or the universal self. 

All this while, the Advaita school does not agree with the contention that just because it calls existential self as part of Maya and impermanent, it is nihilistic in its arguments. Quite the contrary-- it argues. According to Advaita, what we need is not Sadhana, but the shedding of Avidya (non-knowledge or delusion) that holds us in bondage. As long as we are deluded into believing that we are the bounded existential self, and keep longing for the divine, we continue to be trapped in our bondage-- it argues. 

Rather than a child-parent relationship between our existential self and the universal self, we need to have a parent-child relationship, it argues. We need to identify not with the existential self, but realise ourselves as the universal self, and then interact with our existential self, as if a parent is interacting with their child. The existential self is a result of entanglement-- it is bounded and unwise, but has a lot of raw energy. Knowing ourselves as the universal self, we need to help the jiva calm down from its existential angst and use its energy wisely, to reflect the universal self. 

This kind of an argument has its parallels in Western thought that came much later. For instance, modern psychotherapy has a concept called "reparenting" that involves talking to our emotional selves as if it were a child, and bring it up in a way that we are the parent to ourselves, whom we never had, while growing up. Similarly, the cognitive scientist Johnathan Haidt has this model called "The elephant and the rider" that explains the relationship between our rational self that can be wise but weak in terms of raw energy, and the emotional self that is impulsive and full of existential angst, but very strong in terms of raw energy. 

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The fascinating thing with Indian thought is that, no matter how we wish to see the world, there is a rich and well-developed philosophical school of thought in that direction, that accommodates us. Given my childhood trauma, and my issues with authority figures, the notion of bhakti-- especially practices that involve surrender and submission-- had not appealed to me at all. I would strongly advocate objectivity in our interaction, whenever elders and authority figures trained their guns at their perceived "lack of humility" from my part. Reading our recent history and our struggles with foreign oppression and colonialism, made the idea of surrender and submission even more abhorrent. "How can we advocate something, that kept us enslaved for so many centuries?" I have argued many times. 

For someone who was pained by the arbitrariness of authority and searching for freedom, Indian philosophy offered me Advaita-- that is based on logic and argumentation, to realise the universal nature of our existence. (The argument is pretty simple actually-- based on reasoning about the subject and object in any inquiry. But explaining this is beyond the scope of this post). 

But having understood and imbibed Advaita, my outlook towards bhakti has also changed considerably! I no longer view surrender and submission as abhorrent-- but only as sentiments of longing by jivas who are entangled in their existential contexts. They are like children longing for salvation from their parent-- not realising that the answers that they seek in their surrender to the divine, are essentially to be found within themselves. 

This is summarised by a board with a saying, which I found in the Sannidhi of Sri Raghavendra Swami (a highly acclaimed Dvaita philosopher) in Mantralayam: "Don't come to me expecting me to solve your problems-- instead, come to me to find me within yourselves."