In the Ramayana, once Hanuman asks Lord Rama to suggest some reading material for him to learn about the Vedas. In response, Rama suggests to him just one Upanishad-- the Mandukya Upanishad. It is one of the shortest and most dense of the Upanishads, that is said to go directly to its teachings (unlike other Upanishads that take longer routes like story-telling and examples).
If you cannot understand the Mandukya, Lord Rama tells Hanuman, then here is a list of 108 bigger Upanishads for you to read.
~*~*~*~*
The Mandukya talks about our "3+1" states of being which is one of the most fundamental states that define our existence.
In order to understand this, let us first look into the five-sheaths or the Panchakosha model of us. Our existence is said to be defined in five sheaths or koshas, which are as described below.
The Annamaya kosha or the gross body, refers to our physical bodies, which subsist on food. The Pranamaya kosha or the "subtle body" refers to all the processes happening in us like breathing, blood circulation, heart beats, digestion, etc. that keep us alive. The third sheath is the Manomaya kosha or the mind, that hosts our thoughts and emotions. The Vijnanamaya kosha or the intellect, forms the fourth sheath, which hosts to our conscious thoughts, knowledge, epistemology, wisdom, etc.
Beyond these four sheaths is our core being, which is called the Anandamaya kosha or the sheath of bliss. This core sheath is sometimes also called our karana shareera or the "causal body". It is this core being that is said to have given rise to all the four sheaths of our existence. When we are conceived as a human, the first thing that is said to develop is our core being-- from which, all other sheaths emanate.
Our core being is in turn said to be in "3+1" states of being. Why the 3+1 notation? The first three states of being are something that all of us experience. But the fourth (+1) state of being is much more subtle and requires a lot of practice to experience this state.
The three states of being are respectively called: Jagrut or waking state, Swapna or dreaming state, and Shushukta or deep sleep state. In each state of being, our personality is so different that these personalities have separate names as well.
The "person" that is dominant in our waking state is called Vaishnavara, and the "person" that is dominant in our dreaming state is called Taijasa, and in deep sleep, our dominant "person" is called Praajna.
Vaishnavara is interested in transacting with the external world using logic, expression, conscious thoughts, emotion, etc. The Taijasa is interested in imagination, counterfactual reasoning, and in building alternate hypothetical scenarios. The Taijasa is available in the waking state too, but is dominated by the Vaishnavara. In dreaming state, the Taijasa is dominant and takes over the mind with its vivid imaginations, unconstrained by the physical reality of the Vaishnavara.
The Praajna is interested in soothing and relaxing our our different sheaths. The Praajna is functional during waking and dreaming states as well, when we often instinctively relax and soothe ourselves. It is dominant in deep sleep where all sheaths are mostly shut down. A state of deep sleep does not represent absence of experience-- it represents an experience of absence! The Praajna is at work during our deep sleep, ensuring that we are well rested-- yet at the same time, listening to input channels like the ears, and waking us up if we hear a loud noise, for example.
The above three states of being are something that we all experience daily. But, as the Mandukya says, the three states of being can in turn be queried by a fourth state, which is called Turiya (which literally means, "the fourth"). The Turiya is the state of pure awareness or consciousness, unhindered by our physical existence.
The Turiya is said to be our core, liberated self, that is unhindered by time, space and causality. In this state of being, all the three earlier states, and the five sheaths can appear as objects in our experience-- thus showing us that we are not our body, life forces, mind, intellect or even our physical being.
In the Turiya state, we can "speak with" each of our persons-- the Vaishnavara, Taijasa and Praajna and curate the way in which we experience our waking, dreaming and deep-sleep states!
The Mandukya itself does not propose any method for reaching the state of Turiya. But several other treatises address this question as to how to reach a state of pure awareness and inquire about and curate the entirety of our physical existence.
“We do not belong to this material world that science constructs for us. We are not in it; we are outside. We are only spectators. The reason why we believe that we are in it, that we belong to the picture, is that our bodies are in the picture. Our bodies belong to it.” --Erwin Schrodinger
~*~*~*~*~*
In the way Science is practiced today, and in Analytic Philosophy that underlies most scientific inquiry, the process of inquiry is predominantly objective. Much of scientific studies and Western philosophy (as practiced today) inquires about stuff that are "out there". Indeed, a study is considered scientific, only when the observer is separated from the system being observed, and the process of observation does not interfere with the functioning of the system.
Recently, I was watching a lecture on Analytic Philosophy, in which the professor defined philosophical inquiry as comprising of three major dimensions-- "what is out there?", "how do I know?", and "what do I do?" The first dimension comprises of different hermeneutic schools and different conceptual models of reality. The second dimension addresses issues of knowledge, cognition, epistemology, and so on. The third dimension addresses issues like imperatives, norms, morality, ethics, rational choice, etc.
In contrast to the above, one of the predominant questions addressed by Indian philosophical schools is "who am I?" Unlike Western thought that has predominantly focused on the object of inquiry , the focus in Indian schools has been predominantly on the subject or the inquirer.
It is not that the inquirer does not feature in Western thought. But the depths to which the inquirer has been inquired, is much more in Indian thought.
Most scientific models today require us to remove the inquirer from theories of reality. The inquirer needs to be a disinterested observer who does not interfere with the system being observed, and should not feature in the models of reality that is the outcome of the inquiry.
Such a requirement was found to be inadequate when scientific inquiry was focused on the very small and the very large-- quantum mechanics and the theory of relativity, respectively-- where it was seen that we cannot discount the observer in our models of reality. Similarly, in social sciences, there is often an argument that a dispassionate observer cannot understand underlying latent worldview and thoughts that drive observable patterns of behaviour of a population being observed, and a real sociological inquiry comes from a lived experience. It is only when we experience the pains, the joys, the insecurities, etc. of the population being observed, can we really understand why they act the way they do.
~*~*~*~*~*
Why is an inquiry into the inquirer important?
One of the biggest dreams of scientists, mathematicians and philosophers alike, has been to develop some form of "Grand Unified Theories" of reality. In Western thought, Albert Einstein, David Hilbert, and several others have attempted this immense feat, and have ultimately failed.
But once we realise that the inquirer is part of reality too, we see that we can never have any form of objective grand unified theory of reality-- without a theory of the inquirer itself!
The inquirer is so fundamental to our experience when we are inquiring about the world out there, that we often completely forget that it exists, and that its existence itself is a mystery! For example, other than on planet Earth, we do not have any evidence of an inquirer or an inquiry happening in any other planet in our solar system or in the known universe! (Of course, notable exceptions are the various satellites, rovers and other gadgets in different parts of the universe that are "inquiring" on our behalf).
Given that the inquirer is so unique an entity in the universe, it is but an imperative that any unified models of reality should necessarily also address and accommodate the inquirer into such models!
Once we start inquiring into the inquirer, we see that the usual physical models of reality are inadequate to model the inquirer. The inquirer or the subject, is not only involved in observation of reality, but is also an active, autonomous agent of change! Constructs involving intention, free will, knowledge, belief, reason, morality, ethics, purpose, etc. are all attributed to the inquirer and not the inquired. We cannot meaningfully talk about the "intention" of planet Saturn for sporting rings, nor the "morality" of Jupiter wanting to be the biggest planet in our solar system. But such statements are meaningful when we are talking about subjects.
~*~*~*~*~*
Indian philosophy has predominantly focused on characterising the inquirer rather than the inquired. There are several schools of thought and models about the inquirer-- each, a fascinating journey in itself.
One of the major questions that is addressed by Indian thought is to "locate" the locus of of the inquirer. When we say that "I am the inquirer" the question then asks, "Who am I?" or where is the locus of this "I" or self? Does the "I" refer to our body? Our mind? Our "ego" (whatever it means)? Our genetic signature? Or is it somewhere else?
The quest for the locus of "I" has been so elusive, that there are indeed several schools of thought (most notably, Buddhism) that assert that there is no entity called the self or "I" at all! But then, the concept of "I" is so centrally used in our conversations that it is hard to also accept that the core driver of our inquiry is just a void.
There is a story about a scientist arguing with Sri Ramakrishna-- a well known 19th century Advaita philosopher-- saying that he has conducted several experiments involving both body and mind, and is convinced that there is no entity called "self" or "I" anywhere. To this, Sri Ramakrishna replied, "Who is convinced that there is no entity called self?"
The 15th century Advaita philosopher Sage Vidyaranya wrote several books proposing different heuristics, to help the reader understand the problem of self. His treatise called the drg-drisyha viveka (or, the theory of the "seer" and the "seen") is based on the postulate that the subject cannot observe its own locus. Or, whatever that the subject can directly observe, cannot be the locus of the subject, since there is a locus that is doing the observing. For instance, our eyes can see everything else but itself. It can only see an image of itself in the mirror or in a photograph. But it cannot directly observe itself. Similarly, a finger cannot touch itself.
While the eyes cannot "see" themselves, we can become "aware" of our eyes in our inquiry, and question about its state. For instance, we can become aware that our eyes are irritating, relaxed, dry, etc. In this case, the eyes become the observed, and the locus of our inquiry shifts somewhere deeper within us. Hence, if the eye can be the object of inquiry, it cannot be the locus of our subject. Thus, we can now ask, who is inquiring about the eye? If we say that it is our mind that inquires and it is because of our mind that we exist (according to Descartes who said "Cogito. Ergo, sum"), we can see that the mind itself can become an object of our inquiry! The popular field of "mindfulness" is all about observing our mind and our thoughts as they come and go. So if the mind is not the fundamental inquirer, then who is it that is observing the mind?
The argument proceeds like that to reach a singularity. We can see that no matter what we think is our locus of inquiry that is part of our physical experience-- can easily become an object of our experience! We can observe our thoughts, our emotions, even our "ego" (we can inquire and understand ourselves as a person and our personality), we can inquire about our innate nature-- thus showing that none of this is the locus of our subject!
The Samkhya school of philosophy which is more than 4000 years old, posits a "simpliciter" entity (a fundamental entity that exists on its own, and not derived from something else), called the "Purusha" that is termed the fundamental inquirer. Physical reality comprising of all objects that can be inquired about, is called Prakriti. One of the axioms of Purusha is that the Purusha cannot observe itself-- it can only "realise" itself, but never observe itself directly. It is the Purusha that is the source of all subjective constructs like free-will, intention, norms, etc. According to Samkhya, the universe is said to be made up of infinite numbers of Purusha objects and an infinite number of Prakriti objects.
The infinite cardinality of Purusha objects are disputed by other philosophical schools, which point at certain contradictions that such a formulation creates. For instance, we discover "objective" mathematical truths independently, despite that mathematical processing is completely happening within our minds. Also, despite the large diversity in our population on earth, several linguists have noted remarkable similarities in which language is constructed across the world. This has given rise to theories like the "language instinct" that argues that our ability for language is not something that is imbibed-- but something that is innate!
This brings us to one of the predominant models of Indian philosophy-- called as the Vedantic school-- which argues that there is only one Purusha or subject in the universe! It is this one same subject that is inquiring through a multitude of channels, which appear as different inquirers in physical reality. The locus of all our inquiry is the same, universal consciousness. The world is not just one family-- we are all the same person!
There is another story of Sri Ramakrishna in this regard. Once, someone asked Sri Ramakrishna on what is the basis of ethics on which we can build a theory of how to treat others. Conventionally, we use several bases like reflection (treat others like how you would like to be treated), virtue (uphold certain virtues in the way you treat others, etc.) But, Sri Ramakrishna had a very different answer. He said, "remember that there are no others"!
~*~*~*~*~*
Even in the Vedantic approach to understanding the subject, there are several sub-schools of thought-- primarily based on whether the core inquirer and the channel used for inquiry (our physical beings) are different or the same. I have written about this debate in other articles, and will not dwell upon this argument here.
One of the most misunderstood concepts these days is the idea of dharma (and other related terms like karma). Dharma is variously translated as "duty", "righteousness", "ethics", "divine law", and even "religion"-- all of which, are incorrect definitions.
Dharma is the most fundamental of the four "drivers" or purusharthas of human behaviour: dharma, artha, kama, and moksha. The most accurate translation I can give for these terms respectively, are: sustainability, capability, agency, and liberation.
The term dharma comes from the root dhrt- which means something that sustains or prevails. Dharma refers to the property of a system of being, that remains invariant through the life cycle of the system. Dharma is what gives us our resilience to prevail across varying, adverse conditions and not be consumed by causal forces.
Dharma is not just a property of "living" beings-- it is a characteristic of all systems of being. The field of statistical mechanics in physics uses a postulate very centrally in its inquiry, which says that, every bounded system has one or more "stable" states which represent low energy or low stress states in its neighbourhood, into which, it settles down, when left alone. For instance, electrons in an atom settle down into specific orbits. If we excite an electron with some energy, it moves to a higher orbit-- but also becomes unstable. It would quickly discard the excess energy and come back to its stable state of being.
As complex living beings, these stable states of being are what constitutes our dharma. The principle of dharma holds whether we are talking about human societies, or the formation of crystals, or states of matter, or the climate, or the solar system, etc.
One of the tests I use to see if someone has understood the concept of dharma, is to ask them whether dharma exists as of now, on Jupiter or Pluto. If their understanding of dharma is only in social terms like duty or religion, they would say that dharma is not applicable on Pluto.
The most frustrating error of course, is to equate dharma with religion. Recently, I was listening to a talk where the speaker clarified the difference. Religion (or "faith" as understood in the dominant Western narrative today), is something personal and subjective, while dharma is an objective entity. The speaker gave an analogy of toothbrush and toothpaste. While we can share a tube of toothpaste, our toothbrush is personal. Dharma is something that is shared and depends on all of us, while religion or faith, is personal.
Dharma is not righteousness either. But protecting and upholding dharma helps in righteousness and civility to prevail. Dharma is not our duty as well. But protecting and upholding dharma helps us in performing our duties. Dharma is not ethics either. But protecting and upholding dharma helps empower ethical practices.
So how do we protect and uphold dharma? To do so, we need to understand the system of being that we are inquiring about and the environment (Vidhi) in which it is operating. As individuals, we are a system of being ourselves; and our family, work, society and even the physical environment around us represents the Vidhi in which we operate. Similarly, an institution could be the system of being whose dharma we are interested in, and its Vidhi represents the economic, cultural, social and physical environment in which it operates.
We need to then understand what is the set of invariant properties that characterise our system of being. What is it about us that remains constant across time and the various interactions that we perform? Similarly, for institutions, we ask what is it that needs to prevail, that makes the institution what it is.
Once we understand this, we then need to understand the "game" of interaction between the system and its Vidhi. Our Vidhi places lots of demands on us, for which we need to provide our best response.
A being operating in its Vidhi (under certain conditions) is guaranteed to have at least one state of equilibrium. This can actually be proven mathematically! The state of equilibrium represents the "mutual best response" function-- meaning, this is the best that the being can do given the demands of its Vidhi, and this is also the best that the Vidhi can demand, given how the being is operating.
Let us call the state of dharma of the being as 'd' and the state of equilibrium with the Vidhi as 'e'. The difference between 'd' and 'e' is our existential stress-- it is the difference between what sustains us and what is demanded of us. This formulation of existential stress remains the same, regardless of whether we are talking about individuals or institutions or communities or families or countries.
To uphold our dharma, we can adopt various strategies. We can improve our capabilities (artha) to find a different stable state of being which is closer to 'e'. Or we can change our Vidhi to find a different environment whose equilibrium state 'e' is closer to our state of sustainability 'd'. Or we could change the "game" or the nature of our interaction with our Vidhi so that it forms a game whose equilibrium state 'e' is closer to our 'd'.
All these are very different from doing our duties, or complying with orders, or upholding righteousness. We can do our duties or uphold righteousness these only after we can uphold our dharma in our Vidhi.
In some of my previous posts addressing differences between dualism and non-dualism and the idea of Maya, I had been addressing what I believe, to be the core dilemma that has characterised Indian thought over millennia.
One of the core characteristics of Indian philosophy based on the Vedas and Upanishads is that, unlike Western philosophy that focuses on objects and the universe external to the inquirer, the Upanishads start by focusing on the inquirer itself. This leads to some deep insights and theories about concepts like consciousness, awareness, and self.
A primary contention of Indian schools of thought is the simpliciter nature of consciousness. That is, it argues that the core of what forms our consciousness, exists by itself-- and is not a consequence of material interactions. Hence, our consciousness does not "emerge" from our brain cells, but rather, our brain cells "tune in" to consciousness that already exists in the universe. In this sense, we never "invent" anything in our minds-- we only discover insights.
The core debates of Indian thought, comes from trying to reconcile between material reality and the simpliciter consciousness. Material reality is considered as a "mould" through which, consciousness manifests and expresses itself in the material world. But, what is the source and basis of this material reality?
The Samkhya school argues that material reality is as real and as simpliciter as consciousness. It argues that the universe is inherently a dualism-- comprising of two realms called Prakriti and Purusha corresponding to the material reality and consciousness. Prakriti functions on the basis of physical laws and causality, while Purusha uses Prakriti as a mould for its manifestation and expression. According to Samkhya, there are infinitely many instances of Prakriti and Purusha pairs.
Other schools of thought, however, argue that an infinite number of Purusha instances leave major questions open-- for instance, what is the source of all these infinite instances, and is there one source or infinitely many sources for these infinite pairs, and so on. Based on such arguments, they contend that the Purusha (also variously called Brahman, Paramatma, Sakshi, or simply "that which is") is unitary. Hence, the universe is simply the one global consciousness, manifesting itself through potentially infinite instances of Prakriti.
The unification of consciousness, still leaves open, the question of Prakriti or material reality. Is there just one material universe, or are we in a material multiverse? And what is the source of this universal duality?
The non-dual schools of thought contend that all forms of duality simply leave open questions, and therefore, all the duality that we see-- including the duality of Prakriti and Purusha-- is only apparent duality. The universe is essentially just one, all permeating reality, which is the only entity there is.
Material reality or Prakriti is argued as being created by this universal consciousness and not the other way around. The material reality we see, is called Maya (often incorrectly translated as "illusion"). Our material sense of self-- namely the ego (which is also called jiva) is manifested in Maya, and sees the multitude nature of material reality. But an awakened self-- the non-dualists argue-- realises that it is nothing but the only thing there is-- Brahman. The core idea of non-dual philosophy is captured by this statement: Brahma satyam, jagat mithyam, jiva Brahmaivanapara. (Brahman alone is real, the material reality is ephemeral, and the ego is none other than Brahman)
The non-dual argument is the core philosophy of the Upanishads, which give several arguments to drive home this point. The non-dual argument also gave rise to several modes of inquiry that asks how does the existential self come to realise itself as Brahman? The concept of harmonising between our existential agent (ego) and the universal consciousness, is called Yoga. Several different pathways for Yoga are also proposed-- which include the paths of jnana (knowledge), bhakti (devotion), karma (action), shrama (effort), and so on.
The idea of non-dual reality however, was criticised by several social reformers at different points in history, corresponding to times when the society built on such a philosophy had run its course and started to degenerate. One of the core criticisms of philosophers like Buddha and Mahavira from the second and third century BCE, and later philosophers like Madhwa from the 15th century CE, focused on the "dismissive" nature of non-duality towards issues of material reality. Human problems like suffering, injustice, disease, etc. were all part of Maya, and hence considered ephemeral (and therefore unimportant to address).
But, it is important to note that none of the non-dualist philosophers themselves have ever argued that issues of material reality are unimportant. One of the most well known non-dualist Adi Shankara, from the 10th century CE, was known to be very dynamic in reviving Vedantic thought all over India and reforming society from degeneration in those days. Before his untimely death at the age of 34, he had already travelled across India on foot-- twice, and setup several centres of learning from Kashmir in the north, to Kanchi in the south. He had taken on several well-known philosophers from those days and defeated them in extensive debates, and urged them towards reforms.
While the philosophers themselves were anything but apathetic towards material reality, the argument that all aspects of material reality are part of Maya, does not provide a strong implication to help understand how to address existential issues.
Dualists like Madhwacharya, criticised the core philosophy of Jiva Brahmaivanapara (or the ego is none other than the Brahman), and instead argued that the jiva is completely contained within existential reality or Prakriti. It is too pretentious for our ego to believe that we are the entire universe-- all that our ego can do is to facilitate the universal consciousness to manifest through us, as best as possible. This line of argument, is also strongly entrenched in the Bhakti movement that advocated love, devotion, and surrender to the divine as a means of liberation.
More modern philosophers like Swami Vivekananda who rose to prominence during the Indian freedom struggle against British colonial rule, have argued that too much of an emphasis on Bhakti, leading to a perennial sense of surrender and submission makes us too obsequious, and impedes our ability for ownership. Ownership of larger issues-- like the safety, welfare and well-being of our family, community and country, are important pre-requisite to help sustain all forms of philosophical inquiry-- be it non-dual or dual.
Swami Vivekananda was a non-dual philosopher at his core. But he also combined his non-dual philosophy with several forms of social advocacy and reform-- including development of a scientific temper in the population, community welfare and service, focus on courage and bravery, development of patriotism, ownership and participation in issues relating to the country, and so on. Swami Vivekananda's social reforms have played critical roles in shaping the rise of post-colonial India. He had set up several institutions for both mainstream and spiritual education. He also played critical roles in the establishment of major scientific establishments like the Indian Institute of Science.
Vivekananda's approach to non-dual Vedanta is now called "Integral Advaita" in that, it strives to integrate seemingly breakaway schools of philosophy back into the core non-dual approach that has characterised Indian thought since thousands of years.
Here is a good introduction to Integral Advaita, by Swami Medhananda:
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.
*~*~*~*~*~*
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."
In an earlier post, I had talked about the increasing emphasis on "outcomes" in several administrative processes-- especially in education. The focus on outcomes is inherently a sensible move-- as compared to some previously existing models that (for example), measured the effectiveness of education by numbers of graduates, or literacy by whether someone can sign their names.
However, the strategy and implementation of this focus on outcomes leaves a lot of gaping holes and major concerns. Because a flawed notion of outcomes is tightly tied to appraisals and survivability in academia and industry, it has largely become yet another exercise in compliance. Like any compliance game, it is common to see the emergence of an ecosystem of "outcomes engineering", which promise "guaranteed outcomes" if their product or methodology is used, or one becomes part of a cartel. The idea of guaranteed outcomes is rather strange. If someone guarantees the outcome of a cricket match for example, it would be a strong indication of some kind of match-fixing.
If we ask anyone from India to quote a saying from the Bhagawad Gita, and they will most likely quote verse 2.47 that effectively says that: "we can control our actions-- but not its outcomes."
कर्मण्येवाधिकारस्ते मा फलेषु कदाचन | मा कर्मफलहेतुर्भूर्मा ते सङ्गोऽस्त्वकर्मणि
And then, the verse goes on to say that, let this not be a deterrent against doing what we need to do.
This is one of the fundamental axioms of outcomes-- that the outcomes of our actions are not in our hands. The outcomes and impact of our actions is mostly a factor of external forces, rather than our own actions. Consistent with this axiom, recently, Sundar Pichai of Google had remarked, "Reward effort, not outcomes."
In the previous post, I had also described a common fallacy-- that of confusing outcomes with outputs. What is observable and visible, are outputs-- not outcomes. Outcomes refer to the change of state of the entity of interest-- which would be latent. Outputs are used to reason or speculate about possible outcomes that would have caused this output. They are not the outcomes themselves.
For instance, a consider a car manufacturing company. Its outputs are described in terms of the number of cars it can produce, the quality of their cars, the mileage given by their cars, etc. Let. us say that a company has produced superlative outputs. These outputs could be a result of several possible outcomes that changed the way in which the company operates. Maybe the increased output was a result of better communication and coordination in the company, due to recent policy changes. Maybe the increased output was a result of the company embracing more automation. Maybe the increased output is a result of greater ownership by the company's employees, who took it upon themselves to make the company shine. Or maybe the increased output was a result of greater insecurity among employees in the company-- where most of them have been made to work with a sword dangling above their heads.
While the outputs are observable and quantifiable, the outcomes (like "ownership") are often latent and hard to quantify.
In order to design for outcomes, we need to first answer the question, what is our entity of interest? Who are we working for, and whose changes in state is it that we would like to influence?
When it comes to curriculum design, our entity of interest is the student. We define course and program outcomes in terms of what the students should be able to quantifiably demonstrate. This in turn, places the entire emphasis of the pedagogy on the examination, rather than on the learning and empowerment of the student. The fallacy here is because we confuse outputs with outcomes.
In order to understand student outcomes better, consider the figure below:
This figure shows what is called as a "Learning map" for one of my courses. Each asterisk in the figure represents a student, and each blue triangle represents a learning resource. Each dotted line represents a "topic" or "competency" covered in this course. The map is semantically organised using AI algorithms to depict topical proximity between objects. Pursuing a dotted line (topic) in isolation tells us where we will end up in this semantic space had we pursued only this topic.
The solid, magenta line shows the topical journey of the lectures I have covered in the course. In this course, in addition to passing conventional exams, students were required to make a few contributions of their own. This could be in the form of essays or term papers or seminar talks. The student contributions are also embedded in this space, which are shown by yellow triangles.
The "proficiency" of each student is now computed by taking the centroid of all of their contributions (and the grade they received for each contribution). Based on this proficiency, students are also embedded in the learning map to show where they stand in the class.
As is evident here, there is a huge amount of diversity in student locations based on their proficiency after the class. Very few students are actually close to the magenta solid line, which was the learning pathway adopted as part of the lectures.
Even though each student was subject to the same set of lectures, each student has their own individual footprint in the way they have assimilated the knowledge presented in the class! This is the competency state of the student, and the way this state changes is what is the outcome of the course.
But what the students are assessed upon is how they fare on the magenta line. We assess students based on what we covered in class. If we project each student's location onto the magenta line, we see a gross distortion. For instance, there is a student in the top-left of the map, who has shown enormous interest and proficiency in the first topic, but not so much in the others. This student would have likely fared badly in terms of the assessments based on the lectures covered in the class. However, one can well argue that this enormous inclination shown by this student to one of the topics covered in the course, has its own benefits for the student (and for the industry that the student works in, and for the society at large), all of which is lost, when we grade them only on the output they produce in our assessments.
Yet another important characteristic about outcomes is that, regardless of what is our entity of interest, we need to realise that it is a multi-dimensional system of being, rather than a single-dimensional object. Our entity of interest can change its state (also called "move the needle") only in a holistic fashion, involving all dimensions. A student who produces superlative outputs in exams, may actually be suffering from an internal implosion of spirit. An star employee may actually be suffering from a dysfunctional family. As the tennis star Martina Navratilova once remarked: "The moment of victory is too short-lived to live only for that, and nothing else."
We need to remember that, even with technologies like the Learning Map above, we can only observe a part of their state. We don't know what exactly made one of the students to prefer just one topic so strongly. Was that topic in some way personally appealing to them, or was it because they thought that this topic has a lot of "scope" in the industry, or maybe it was some other reason altogether?
Hence, we need to be very careful when we make statements about outcomes. Firstly, we need to stop equating outcomes with outputs. Next, we need to become aware that the change in state that we see in our entity of interest need not be the complete state description of the entity. And third, we need to remember the Bhagawad Gita-- that we really cannot control outcomes. At the end of the day, we need to just do our best work, and hope for the best.
One of the core topics of debate in Indian philosophy is on the nature of reality-- more specifically, the difference between reality and existence.
It is fairly easy to see that existential reality-- be it the physical universe, or the world of concepts and ideas, is incomplete. No system of representation of existence can explain itself. Mathematicians and philosophers-- both in the East and the West, have discovered this limit in many different ways.
In Indian thought, reality is thought to be something that pervades all of existence and beyond. It is called by different names-- Brahman, Paramatma, Purusha, etc. that represents the only entity there is, and that is eternal. Existential reality of names and forms and features, is ephemeral, and is described variously as such, with names like Maya, Prakriti, etc.
When it comes to describing ourselves as well, distinctions are made between the core of our being called Atma or Sakshi (witness), and our existential sense of self, that is variously called Ahamkar or Jivatma (roughly corresponding to the notion of ego). The Ahamkar or the ego is our sense of self that we adopt in our daily lives. We describe ourselves as so-and-so, attribute several characteristics to ourselves, and project one or more persona, depicting how we want others to interpret us. But, as several philosophical schools argue, our true nature is not our ego. We can witness our ego in action as if it were an object external to us-- just as we can witness something that is happening outside, or some thought we are holding in our heads. When we are witnessing our ego-- who is it that is the observer? This observer needs to be necessarily beyond the ego, and definitely beyond our body or thoughts. This observer or witness (called Sakshi-- which means "witness" in Sanskrit) is posited as our true self.
Because the Sakshi can witness anything that we imagine ourselves to be-- the true nature of our Sakshi is hence posited to be the very reality, which is the only thing there is.
Our ego often identifies with several entities outside of itself-- in effect, saying "I am that". For instance, we may identify with our family, our gender, our ethnicity, out country, our profession, etc. where, we work for its interests, as if we are working for ourselves. We get personally hurt when our object of identity is criticised.
But, even when our ego goes about identifying with some entity or the other, we can witness this elastic identity in action-- showing that we are not that which we identify with.
So why is it our ego goes about identifying with things? When we can witness our ego and say that our true nature is the witness, why does the ego exist separately, and what is its role?
Such questions have been at the core of the debates among philosophers of Vedanta-- especially the non-dualist (Advaita) philosophers, and several other schools of qualified non-dualist and dualist (Dvaita) philosophers.
The non-dualist or Advaita philosophy, which is reiterated many times in the Upanishads, argues that our witness is in fact, Brahman, or the only entity there is. We are in fact, the universe, and that is the only thing there is. All existential elements, including our ego is no different from Brahman, as Brahman is the only entity there is. Existence is like the waves and surf in an ocean-- which seems to be constantly at flux, but which is nothing but the water that makes up the ocean.
Our ego goes about identifying with a lot of entities outside of us, because it does not realise the true nature of its existence. It is like a bubble on the surface of water wanting to establish relationships with other bubbles on the surface, and maybe fight for territory or dominance or whatever. All the while, it is nothing but the water that makes it up, and all the relations it forms are necessarily ephemeral. Once the bubbles burst, they go back to being the water that they always were.
The realised ego, Advaita argues, does not take existential equations too seriously. The bubble exists, and it has some fun time interacting with other bubbles, forming nice structures and patterns, knowing fully well that it is nothing but the water. The realised ego, Advaita argues performs its worldly activities in a "detached" fashion (nishkama karma), without getting deluded in worldly constructs, and all the while being aware of its true nature.
*~*~*~*~*~*
However, several philosophers have broken away from this core philosophy of non-dualism, and of dismissing existence as something ephemeral and illusory (mithya).
Siddharta Gautama (Buddha) for example, criticised Vedic philosophers of his time, of being indifferent to the human suffering around them, in their quest to realise their true nature. When there is so much suffering around us, should we not be doing something to mitigate it, he argued.
Several other philosophical schools, broadly grouped as Sramanics, have a similar argument. They argue that the algebra of existence is not nihilistic. To say that we are born just to seek liberation from existence just begs the question as to why were we born in the first place-- they argue.
A somewhat similar stance is also taken by the dualist (Dvaita) philosophers. Dualists argue that existence and reality are two separate entities, and indeed, the universe itself may be described by a dualism or an interplay between existence and reality.
This is somewhat similar to the Chinese philosophy of Yin and Yang that depicts reality in terms of two symmetric forces called Yin and Yang, where the seeds of one emerges when the other force becomes dominant. Dvaita is similar but not exactly identical. Dualists agree with the core hypothesis of Advaita of the primacy of reality over existence. Existence cannot exist without the substrate of reality, but reality can remain without existence. (The bubble cannot be formed without water, but water can exist without bubbles).
The point of departure of dvaita from non-dualism is the argument that, the dynamics of the bubbles that make up existence, is not arbitrary or nihilistic. Our ego acts autonomously, yet it is bound by the consequences of its actions. Notions like ethics, morality, accountability, etc. that pervade our existential universe-- are all important, dvaita argues. Existential constructs and boundaries are important, which impact what the ego can do. It is only when the ego acts and manifests itself in certain specific ways, does it get a glimpse of reality.
The dvaita argument is also consistent with modern-day scientific inquiry. While scientists use a lot of structures and formal frameworks in their work, there is a realisation that formal frameworks are meant to communicate scientific breakthroughs rather than create such breakthroughs. As Albert Einstein once said:
Whether reality is dualist or non-dualist, the core contribution of Indian philosophy is the pervasive nature of reality, as exemplified in this Shanti mantra (source: https://www.templepurohit.com/mantras-slokas-stotras/shanti-mantra/om-purnamadah-purnamidam/):
Om Puurnnam-Adah Puurnnam-Idam Puurnnaat-Purnnam-Udacyate Puurnnashya Puurnnam-Aadaaya Puurnnam-Eva-Avashissyate || Om Shaantih Shaantih Shaantih ||
Meaning: Aum! That is infinite, and this (universe) is infinite. The infinite proceeds from the infinite. (Then) taking the infinitude of the infinite (universe), It remains as the infinite alone. Aum! Peace! Peace! Peace!
In today's formal education, creativity is a primary virtue. The initial rote learning, compliance and discipline that students are subject to, are eventually meant to make them creative "self actualising" individuals.
Creativity takes on various forms. It could be in the form of creating a piece of technology, or creating artistic expressions.
But regardless of the nature of creativity, in order to be creative, we need to get into a frame of mind, or "paradigm" that promotes creativity. We need to "see the world differently" or imagine possibilities, and so on, in order to become creative.
Oftentimes, we are not even aware of the paradigm that drives our thinking and it takes a lot of introspection to discover how our thoughts are structured, and what other paradigms could there be.
Creativity, as a paradigm, has specific characteristics. In order to get into a mindset of creating something that is not there, we need to be fundamentally unhappy or dissatisfied with what we have! Indeed there are schools of thought, that believe that creativity stems from suffering, and in order to be truly creative, we need to suffer!
Given that creativity is a virtue, and a virtue is something we need to advocate to the world at large, we are in effect-- in our institutions and homes, encouraging everyone to suffer-- so that they may become creative!
Creativity is also fundamentally minimalist as a paradigm. Creation is goal-oriented, where at each step, we evaluate and optimise our resources and efforts towards the end goal. Anything that is not helpful towards the end goal of creation, are useless, and are discarded. Hence for instance, if our end goal is to create a mango orchard, anything that does not contribute to this end goal, becomes extra baggage and needs to be weeded out. For instance, suppose our mango orchard in the making, has a number of tomato plants. In this paradigm, unless these plants can be shown to be useful to achieve the end goal of producing more mangoes, they are useless, and are weeded out. In this paradigm, suppose we need to use a fertiliser that maximises our mango yield, but which would be harmful to the tomato plants, we would go ahead with it, because mango is our fundamental goal-- not tomatoes. The fact that tomato is a legitimate plant in itself has no bearing in our goal-oriented approach.
One who has internalised the creativity paradigm tends to become elitist, and view society in terms of "higher" and "lower" classes. Even in the Maslow "hierarchy" creativity or actualisation comes at the "top". In an internalised paradigm of creativity-- creativity itself is the goal, and the objective of our lives is to work towards achieving this goal. Clerical activities that "merely" support creativity are considered lower in the hierarchy than creativity. The character of Sheldon Cooper from the TV series "The Big Bang Theory" where he grants a "high honour" to his friends by getting them to drive him to work, portrays this stereotype well.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Traditional Indian culture based on the concept of dharma or "sustainability," has a fundamentally different paradigm. Here, creativity or self-actualisation is not an end in itself. All forms of pursuits-- be they creative or service or clerical activity-- are rooted in a paradigm of sustainability.
Sustainability as a paradigm is fundamentally different from creativity. Sustainability aims to preserve or sustain what is there, rather than create what is not there.
Sustainability, by its very definition is not "goal-oriented" approach. It is a "state maintenance" approach. State maintenance has no end goal. We need to maintain a desired state (of life, society, etc.) for as long as possible-- knowing fully well that, nothing can sustain eternally.
The pursuit of sustainability may need us to become creative, and invent stuff that. is not there. But creativity is not a goal in itself. It is an element of a larger pursuit towards sustainability. Similarly, creativity is not "higher" in some pecking order than other forms of non-creative, clerical activities. Sometimes, clerical bookkeeping may be more critical towards sustainability, than creative outputs.
Sustainability or preservation is also fundamentally "maximalist" in nature. The very definition of preservation urges the sustainability paradigm to aim to preserve everything-- unless there are specific reasons not to do so. Sometimes, preserving something may adversely affect the sustainability of everything else in its vicinity, in which case, it makes sense to let it go, to maximise sustainability.
For someone who has internalised the sustainability paradigm, efforts like "save the tiger" makes no sense. Sustainability does not focus on a single entity in an ecosystem. Sustainability aims to "preserve the forest" rather than "save" a specific species. Sustainability also doesn't agree with the concept of "keystone" species-- where one species (typically a predator) is considered to be the keystone, that keeps the entire ecosystem running. The idea of a keystone represents a hierarchical or linear relationship between species, which is not the case. The dharmic mind knows that a forest comprising of all prey (like deers) and no predators (like tigers) can sustain, but a forest comprising of all predators and no prey, cannot sustain.
The sustainability paradigm requires us to think "holistically". We cannot focus on one entity and its sustenance. We need to promote sustainability of everything.
In the sustainability mindset, "growth" is not an end in itself either. The dharmic mind knows that nothing can grow forever. Growth saturates and is subject to diminishing value of returns. Like creativity, promoting growth is important-- but not as an end in itself.
Indian philosophy-- regardless of which school of philosophy we are talking about-- distinguish between two forms of reality. The existential reality of names and forms, including information constructs like knowledge, belief, etc. form what we generally know as reality. This is called Prakriti in the Samkhya philosophy and Maya in different other schools of thought.
But in addition to the existential reality in which we all dwell in, almost all schools of thought posit a deeper substratum that transcends all of existence and beyond. This "transcendental" reality, variously called Purusha, Brahman, or "that which is", etc. is postulated as the only entity there is.
Most philosophical writings are about how to realise this transcendental reality as a fact, and not as a postulate or an assertion, or as a matter of faith or belief. There are several techniques and paradigms (called marga or pathways) that are proposed, that systematically take the inquirer from their current moorings in existential reality, to a state where they realise that all of existence is just "that which is."
The jnana marga or the paradigm of knowledge takes the inquirer on a journey of logic and epistemology, to ultimately lead to a state where one realises that reality needs to necessarily lie beyond the system of logic and knowledge-- and that logic can only communicate truth, and not discover it.
In addition to the paradigm of knowledge, there are several other paradigms that are proposed-- including karma (action), Yoga (the discipline of joining or harmonising), bhakti (devotion), etc. All of these paradigms have a core objective-- that of systematically taking the seeker from the existential realm, to realise the transcendental realm.
But in all these, there is a fundamental question that lies unanswered, which has been at the core of several breakaway philosophical schools. This is the question about existential reality or Maya itself. If the transcendental reality is all that there is, why then does existence exist at all? Just because existential reality of physics and knowledge is not complete, does it mean it is not important to study existence at all?
This debate lies at the core of the vast body of literature that have argued about the non-dual and dual nature of reality. This can be broadly classified as the Advaita and Dvaita schools of thought.
Advaita or non-dualism argues that Maya is just an illusion that obscures our realisation of the substratum. Maya is said to have two kinds of properties-- the avarana shakti or the property of veiling or occlusion, that prevents us from seeing reality as it is, and the vikshepa shakti or the property of projection, where the Maya of our minds project some properties onto reality based on our own experiences.
To explain this, several analogies are provided. Imagine a pond at the base of which, is a precious, shining gem. We can see the gem when the water is clear, but when the water is muddy, it occludes the gem from our vision, and we may often mistake the gem for something else like a fish, or some creature. In order to see the gem for what it is, we need to clear the water from all the mud. Maya is like the muddiness of the water, that occludes our vision of the gem, and the muddiness in our minds, mistakes the gem for something else.
In another argument, we are asked to think of a clay pot, made completely of clay. And then we are asked, is there anything to the pot other than clay? In the universe of the pot, the clay is all there is. The "potness" of the clay is ephemeral and is soon lost if the pot is broken-- but the clay remains, even when its "potness" is gone.
However, the dualists or the Dvaita philosophers take exception to this. The "potness" or the idea of a pot is independent of the clay, they argue. To substantiate this, consider a fancy pot like in the picture below:
The "potness" of this pot has specific characteristics-- there are two handles, there is a big mouth with a lid of a specific shape, etc. The "potness" of this pot existed in the mind of the pot maker, independent of the clay. The pot maker may well have manifested this same "potness"-- that is a pot with the same shape and characteristics-- using say, plastic, or metal. The existential reality of the idea of the pot existed independent of the substance that made the pot (which is the clay).
According to the dualists, the Maya of the "potness" is not "occluding" our glimpse of the clay. We need not "remove" Maya or the "potness" to get a glimpse of the underlying reality (the clay). We need not "remove" a wave on the sea, to see the underlying water. And just because there is no other substance to the pot other than the clay, it does not mean that the "potness" or the idea of the pot is unimportant. If we want the clay to hold water or tea, we need to cast the clay in the form of a pot.
Maya, according to the dualists, acts more like a mould that "casts" reality into different forms with different characteristics-- rather than as a "cloak" that occludes or covers reality with its illusion.
When we study algorithms we study a paradigm of problem-solving called "divide and conquer". This approach to problem-solving involves breaking down a complex problem into simpler components and solving each of them separately, and then combining the solutions. Divide and conquer as an algorithmic technique is widely popular, and is easily amenable to parallelisation.
Deeply rooted in Indian history however, I have a mental block-- some kind of a cultural aversion-- against the concept of divide and conquer, because of what this strategy has done to us when we were at the receiving end. Whenever anyone extolls the joy of divide and conquer-- even in a purely algorithmic context-- I find myself cringing uncomfortably.
But regardless of my personal views about this paradigm, divide and conquer as a strategy is also based on a simplifying assumption that the combining of individual solutions to get the overall solution is a trivial problem. This need not always be the case. In fact, combining individual solutions to form the global response may sometimes make the global problem worse.
The class of "sustainability" problems are good examples of such a dilemma. Consider a population of car owners who use fossil-fuel cars to commute daily. Due to some global crisis, fossil fuel becomes costlier, and the government wishes to reduce fuel usage. It then adopts a divide and conquer strategy, where in order to improve reduce overall fuel usage, it mandates that all individual cars need to become fuel efficient and use less fuel for the same tasks. Let us say it succeeds in this endeavour and individual cars improve their mileage. A car that used to once give 10 kms to a litre of petrol would now give, say 30 kms to a litre. So, does this mean that the government has succeeded in reducing its reliance on fossil fuel? No! Since mileage of individual cars have increased, individual car owners would now be more likely, rather than less, to use their cars even in cases where they preferred not to use them before. Increased usage of cars increases demand for more cars, and eventually, fuel usage goes up, rather than down!
In most cases, what works for the individual cannot be directly scaled to the collective as a solution. The problem of scaling from the individual to the collective, is not at all trivial, and requires new paradigms of problem-solving. I'm generally calling this as the "unite and prosper" paradigm of problem-solving.
A number of distributed algorithms fall in this category. Algorithms that explain the spontaneous emergence of synchrony in coupled oscillators are an example of the "unite and prosper" paradigm. Similarly, distributed constraint optimisation, global snapshot computation, resilient distributed consensus, etc. all address problems of combining fragmented knowledge to find a global solution, and can be thought of as examples of the "unite and prosper" paradigm. Unite and prosper, looks for solutions where both individuals and the collective, have solved the problem sufficiently well.
I am of the strong opinion that we need to study this paradigm of problem-solving as a separate topic of study in its own, which may reveal a number of deep insights into complex network interactions.
Let me end this post, with a "unite and prosper" puzzle for the reader:
There are n people in a group, each having a piece of knowledge. Whenever two persons interact, they share everything that they know with the other. Given this, answer the following: (a). What is the minimum number of interactions for everyone to know everything? and (b). What is the minimum number of interactions for everyone to know that everyone knows everything?
One of the most recurring frustrations I have faced while growing up in my cultural network, has been the pervasive emphasis on faith and submission (bhakti as it is called), and de-emphasis on asking difficult questions or critical inquiry. We were told to "just do" what is told and that "one day, you will understand everything."
In addition to this, there is also a pervasive sense of smug conviction and contempt towards those who ask questions or those who try to explain their thoughts. It is quite the norm in this network, for people to laugh at others behind their backs-- especially if the other person has opened up in the hopes of gaining clarity. An adolescent experiencing unfamiliar emotions of a heartbreak for instance, will be rewarded with laughter and stern judgment from immediate family, rather than validation of their emotions. It is quite common to see younger generation enjoy life, take risks and embrace failure when they alone-- but not in front of their families.
How did these self-defeating cultural practices come about? It is fashionable to blame British colonial administration for the all pervasive "slave mentality" in our society today. But despite 70 years of independence, these self-defeating practices remain, and the fault lines are as strong as ever.
Recently, I was listening to this talk by Swami Sarvapriyananda on the differences between Advaita and Dvaita philosophies. Some of the explanations he gave about these two philosophical schools, suddenly brought a lot of clarity. In this talk, he not only explains the philosophical differences, but also the methodologies used by the respective camps and the resultant cultures they created.
Both Advaita Vedanta propounded by Adi Shankara in the 9th century CE, as well as the Dvaita Vedanta propounded by Madhvacharya in the 16th century CE, are commentaries on the Upanishadic texts called the Brahma Sutras. The Upanishads are one of the earliest and most comprehensive texts (which are themselves just a part of the Vedas), that address topics like consciousness and the nature of reality. The Upanishads comprises of several texts that were written over different time periods ranging from 4000 to 2500 years ago. The German philosopher Schopenhauer was known for his advocacy of the Upanishads, whose writings in turn, went on to influence a number of Western philosophers and scientists. The American philosopher William Irwin Thompson is said to have stated that the Upanishads have had such a profound influence on human thought, that we ought to divide historical eras into "Before Upanishads" and "After Upanishads" eras, rather than the current common era.
As with all influential texts, their influence waxes and wanes over time. Starting from around the 3rd century BCE, by the 9th century CE, Vedic cultures in the Indian subcontinent had already fragmented into several schools-- the orthodox astikas like the Vaishnavas, the sceptics or the nastikas like the Caravakas, the empiricists or the Sramanics like Buddhists, Jains, etc. These times were also witness to vibrant debates between the different schools, and the development of an elaborate science of argumentation, called VadaVidya.
In this context, came Adi Shankara from present-day Kerala, who wrote great commentaries on the Brahma Sutras, to develop a school of thought, called the Advaita Vedanta. Advaita Vedanta posits a "non-dual" nature of reality by saying that everything in this universe is just the only thing there is-- which is called the universal consciousness or Brahman. What we experience in the physical universe is called Maya, that "veils" our experience of Brahman-- while Maya is itself nothing but Brahman! The existential reality of physical names and forms created by Maya, can "reflect" the universal consciousness to different extents. Some "well polished" elements of existence can reflect Brahman much better than other not so well-polished elements. Yet, all the while, reality is just Brahman looking at itself-- somewhat like the illustration below.
Advaita says that the only barrier to us realising this universal reality, is Avidya-- which is often translated as "ignorance," but more accurately means "delusion." It is when we are deluded by existence and its names and forms, and believe that to be real, we are occluded from the ultimate reality. Advaita also proposes several techniques by which, we can systematically detach ourselves from existential reality to experience ourselves as the entire universe-- which then again includes all of existence and all that we were attached to! The Advaitic technique first develops a mechanism for "Asangha" which means detachment from our thoughts, emotions, objects, etc, and ends with "Dvaitavarjita" or experience of oneness of everything including all the objects that we had detached from. The result of such a realisation in a human, Advaita says, is the emergence of Nishkama karma, or dispassionate actions without vested interests or desires.
Advaita had a radical and profound influence on thinkers of those times-- much like quantum mechanics or the theory of relativity were to do in later times. Advaita inspired several innovations in different walks of life including science, administration, medicine and well-being, etc. Even today for instance, in our lab, we are inspired by Advaita for proposing new models of ethics in AI, and understanding sustainable development.
*~*~*~*~*
By the time Madhvacharya was born in the 16th century CE in present day Karnataka, it was already 700 years since Adi Shankara, and Advaita still was still the most widely discussed and adopted philosophy! But much had changed in the socio-political reality of India by that time.
The northern parts of India were reeling from immense bloodshed and genocides from foreign invaders. The biggest university in the world-- Nalanda-- had been completely destroyed. Countless cities and monuments were destroyed. People were killed by the hundreds of thousands in single days! The medieval genocide of Hindus remains one of the bloodiest eras in world history, that is still actively downplayed for various reasons.
These times also saw the emergence of one more social movement called the Bhakti movement. Bhakti is a concept from Vedic thought, which means devotion or commitment to an idea. Bhakti is seen as a means of spiritual realisation, by enabling us to discover ourselves through our lifelong commitment to an idea. Bhakti movement in these times, that were practiced syncretically across multiple religions, went beyond advocating dispassionate commitment to an idea, to advocating passionate surrender and submission to the divine.
Bhakti was also widely popular among administrators and thought leaders who sought to bring peace from bloodshed. Bhakti enables bringing about order in society, by enabling people to discover their favourite ideas, and commit themselves to realising themselves through their devotion, rather than give in to aggression over others.
Advaita by itself does not promote bhakti-- nor does it reject it, either. Bhakti is a good thing to have, according to Advaita, but it would not be of any use, if it is practiced with Avidya. Advaita advocates for pursuit of knowledge and elimination of Avidya first, to become aware of one's true nature, and anything else, including bhakti, next. This quote below, explains Advaita's stance about bhakti and other orthodox cultures:
Several thought leaders tried to combine bhakti with Advaita in different ways. For instance, Ramanujacharya in the 11th century CE, proposed a philosophy called Visishtadvaita, that proposed existence as a "distinguishable part of" reality-- much like the relationship between a finger and the rest of the body. Advaita simply says, "existence is reality" or reality is the only thing there is.
Madhvacharya in the 16th century CE, takes an even more intense stance, and develops a philosophy called Dvaita-- which posits a duality, or a clear barrier (called bheda) between existence and reality, which can be breached only in certain specific ways. This is much like how a wall separates the inside and outside of a house, but can be breached through the door.
One of the motivations for proposing this barrier was to bring the emphasis back on existential issues. When the northern parts of the country were reeling under immense bloodshed, thought leaders in the southern part still argued that existence is Maya or "illusion" or "unreal" and Brahman alone is real, and that all walls and barriers are meant to be broken.
Madhvacharya argued that Maya and its barriers is as real as Brahman. The reality of Brahman does not negate the reality of Maya, and it is important to recognise the reality of Maya, he argued. Barriers are meant to protect what is inside-- and not exclude what is outside, he argued. He also argued however, that while Maya is very much real, its existence is dependent on Brahman (called paratantra). Maya cannot exist on its own. Hence its existence depends on its being able to find the door and breach the barrier between itself and Brahman through Bhakti and Sadhana (sustained effort). And in contrast to dispassionate action (Nishkama karma), Dvaita advocated Sakama karma or passionate action towards protecting and preserving boundaries, so that interaction with Brahman happens only through specific channels.
Dvaita philosophy proposed the existence of five kinds of barriers (called panchabheda)-- between jiva and jagat (individual sentience and Brahman), jada and jagat (non-sentient existence and Brahman), jiva and jada, jiva and jiva; and jada and jada.
Essentially, it argued that each barrier we see in existence is real, and there is a reason why it is there. If boundaries are not important, why then it argued, do we stay in walled houses, why then do we need clothes to cover ourselves? The individuality of each individual, and the existence of each object and concept, is real and significant, it argued.
In this sense, Dvaita is somewhat similar to (but not the same as) Analytic Philosophy of the West, while Advaita is somewhat similar to (but not the same as) British Idealism from the 20th and 19th century CE, respectively.
In order to drive home the reality of existence, Dvaita proponents developed methods that are in some ways similar to evangelical Christianity. For instance, it argued for faith first and knowledge next (bhakti tatho jnanam), quite in contrast to Advaita, which argued for knowledge first and Bhakti next. Proponents of Dvaita argued for Dvaita not just as a darshana (perspective) but as the only correct interpretation!
This is very similar to how evangelical religions work. Except that Dvaita did not actively seek to proselytise and convert (or eliminate) "non-believers." It also had no notions of blasphemy or apostasy. Philosophical perspectives (darshanas) in ancient India thankfully were hardly ever pursued as violent ideologies. But even then, this intense stance taken by Dvaita (perhaps in response to the socio-political situation and increasing desperation of Hindus in those times), the culture that resulted from this philosophy seems to have become very acerbic in nature, with contempt, conviction, derision, scorn, smugness and a judgmental attitude occupying central positions in one's worldview.
I know I am probably going to get a lot of contempt, scorn and derision for saying the above. But I think it is important to understand the underlying philosophy and not hold on to the methodologies adopted that were perhaps relevant in one time, but not anymore.
Traditional Indian society today, is marked by its lack of objectivity. The society is divided into different communities and religions, with communal or religious identity overriding individual opinions in almost all walks of life.
Even within Hinduism or the dharmic culture, there are so many subcultures and philosophies, each of which often live in entrenched clusters, sometimes to the exclusion of the other. Its adherents often argue and fight with one another-- at a personal level-- on things like how specific festivals are to be celebrated, what kinds of food to eat, which deity to pray, and so on.
This is this biggest irony of Indian society today. This is because, the core philosophy of Indian thought is based on observing the objective nature of our self to our experience. Right from the Vedas and the Upanishads and including Sramanic philosophies like Buddhism and Jainism, there is a fundamental acknowledgment about how our "Self" is different from everything that we experience or think or feel or believe. The different philosophies differ based on differences of opinion about the implications of this fundamental postulate.
In fact, the term used for "philosophy" in Indian thought is "darshana" which means "perspective". And if someone were to embody a philosophy and "religiously" practice it, they are said to be of that particular "mata" (मत), which means "opinion". The term used for "religion" in Indian languages is the same term used for "opinion" or "vote". Religion is viewed no more than an opinion, and philosophy is viewed no more than a perspective! Can it get any more liberal than this?
The true nature of our being is beyond opinions and perspectives. Philosophies only help in guiding us and give a framework of reasoning-- but then, as is stressed again and again in just about every philosophical treatise-- we are not our framework of reasoning, nor the opinions that we embody.
The Chandogya Upanishad for example, tells the story of "two golden birds perched on the self-same tree"-- our "Ego" and our "Self". The Ego is the experiencer-- it engages with the world and eats its bitter-sweet fruits, while the Self is the dispassionate witness. The Ego wishes to fly high and achieve things, but it is also tethered to the tree on which the Self resides. So, no matter how high it flies or what it achieves, it keeps coming back to the Self, which is but a dispassionate witness and its unchanging nature. The tree represents the "Universal Self" called the "Brahman" which is the only reality there is.
In its experience, the Ego may embody several opinions, and feel several emotions. It may even believe itself to be the Self. But all the while, it is only tethered to the dispassionate witness, who is not experiencing life, but witnessing it.
How is it that a culture whose fundamentals are based on understanding the objective nature of our experience, become fragmented into different ideologies-- so much so that it was neatly vulnerable to divide-and-conquer strategies from external adversaries? Even today, the fault lines are sharp and are subject to immense battery to dismember different darshanas from the core philosophy, and present it as "not a part of Hinduism" or something such. How is it that a culture that once called "religion" as "opinion" today be associated with caste system, patriarchy and segregation? A good study of history needs to be in the form of a sincere effort to answer this question.
