Engineering as intervention

Engineering today, is dominated by what may be called "creation science." Much of what we study in engineering is in the form of creating something-- be it a machine, software, structure, etc. Most of our effort goes into designing our creation and implement it in a way that makes it effective. 

But every engineering deployment is actually an intervention into an existing live system. Be it creating a building, a bridge, a car, a software, a gadget, or whatever, we are not only creating something, but this creation is intervening into an existing system and affecting the way it functions. 

Of course, by creating something, we wish to affect the way something functions. Like for example, by creating an automobile, we are affecting the way people commute. But for every creation, there is an intended affect, and many forms of unintended or collateral affects. 

In many cases, our created solutions can be so good that it can become a victim of its own success. For instance, suppose a brand new road is constructed to link two parts of a bustling city. This new road passes through relatively less populated areas, and hence, vehicles can zip through these to reach the other end of the city very fast. The very success of this brand new road, will now cause the land adjacent to the road to go up in value, and attracts many new businesses, residential properties and industries. Each business locating themselves there would use this brand new road as their locational advantage. Soon, this area becomes so crowded that any time advantages obtained earlier is lost. 

When we only focus on the design of our creation and its intended affect, and not really understand how systemic intervention works, we get into situations like these. 

If we want to bring about changes in a sustainable fashion, we need to change our perspective of engineering, from creating a solution, to designing interventions. 

The axiom of sustainability: One of the key things to understand about systemic interventions is the axiom of sustainability. Essentially, this states that any bounded system of being, when perturbed, strives to reach a state of "low energy" or stability. In Indian thought, this has been called the principle of dharma, since several thousands of years 

An atom for instance, is organised into "low energy" configurations, where electrons occupy specific orbits around the nucleus. When we excite an electron by giving it some energy, it may move up to a higher-level orbit. But very soon, it would shed its excess energy and come back to its low energy state. Similarly, if we intervene in an atom and knock out an electron, it becomes ionised and unstable. This causes phenomena like static or lightning, where the system that is the atom is trying to reach back to its low energy configuration. 

Similarly, what we call as solids, are actually intricate and tightly knit patterns of atomic interactions. When we try to deform a solid by pulling it out or pushing it in, it strives to come back to its original low energy configuration. This is what we call elasticity. 

Similarly, all biological creatures settle down into optimal states of being, where it has the maximum health, strength and pleasure that it can afford, given its circumstances. This is called homeostasis. When we perturb homeostasis (like for instance, illness or injury), an elaborate biological system kicks in, to bring the being back to homeostasis. 

This is one of the most fundamental axioms that we need to consider, when we're intervening in an existing system. Be it building a new road, adding a new train track, creating a new web service, building a new car, or bringing a new mobile device into the market, we will need to consider how will this intervention perturb the system and where the system is likely to settle down. 

The engineering solution may provide the intended outcomes soon after its deployment. But over time, the system responds to the intervention, and the state it settles down may be very far from what was intended. 

Intervention science-- dealing with understanding how complex systems respond to engineering interventions, is something that is not taught in engineering curriculum today. There is a dire need to develop this science systematically, and introduce it in our engineering curricula. 

Our sheaths and states of being

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. 

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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. 

Glimpses of the subject

“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

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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. 

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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. 

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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"!

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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. 

Practical dharma

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. 

Integral Advaita of Swami Vivekananda

 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: 

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." 

Understanding Educational Outcomes

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.