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Began: 18th September, 2015
Ended: 01 December, 2015
03rd January, 2023: Added P.P.S, on inclusion of an excerpt in the Mahabharata put in the mouth of Yudhishthira.
I understand HOW: I do not understand WHY.
~ Orwell's Winston Smith in 1984
This is in reponse to this.
A recommended approach to read the passages below is that of a defense lawyer arguing against prosecution. The prosecution represents the popular understanding and sentiment --- possibly correct. The job of a defense lawyer is to take a deliberate, thoughtful and well-intentioned contrarian position that aims to identify holes, if any, in the prosecution's argument and, in the process, aid the prosecution introspect and further strengthen its own case if need be. In case the prosecution is sincere it may cede ground on some points and intellectually sharpen itself on others.
Gita as put in the mouth of Krishna is the prosecution lawyer. Its arguments are layered and at times encompass multiple intentions and agendas. Religious philosophy is injected into the grain of the socio-political orientation of the milieu. A faithful reading of Gita can lead the mind up the alley of dangerous pretensions.
What is true of Gita is also true of all religious literature. Separating the philosphical, the rational, and the categorical from the metaphysical, surreal, literary and conditional is very difficult. This separation truly only happens in the minds of those who have fully absorbed the text and at the same time are highly alert to the subtleties of the text that otherwise can charmingly and affectionately dissuade mind's critical faculties.
For those who are not steeped in the particular text an analytical reading is always possible where the text is carefully dissected with scholarly tools.
There is a third alternative: that of deployment of the tool that every human being has --- common-sense. The sense that is 'common' means a sense that relies first and foremost on what is verifiable through one's immediate senses. It is surprising how far one can go with a religious text relying not on expert commentary and a devotional reading but a curious and common-sensical approach. Like that of a defense lawyer: no lawyer can be expected to be well versed in the subject matter of the case a-priori. Each case is dealt with as is based on the 'common-law framework'. A similar approach applied to those injunctions found in 'religious' texts and hence deemed 'religiously sanctioned' can save many a mind from loitering in the wrong alley at an inappropriate time of the day.
But it should be clearly borne in mind: an interpretation of Gita is not an interpretation of Krishna. Especially the interpretation rendered to Krishna in the minds of the saints of the bhakti tradition, or for that matter, the personal equation that a devotee would share with Krishna. Those relationships are beyond the pale of free-thinking arguments. Free-thinking arguments are to be deployed against "Krishna the philosopher". As a philosopher, the only weapon one has are one's words, and in rare cases, a conduct to back those words. It is those words that have to evaluated and assessed in light of common-sense. Not the historical, mythical and personal versions of Krishna.
The question that common-sense can pose (or, compelled to pose) is whether there is a difference between 'faring forward' and 'faring well'? Or, to use the alternative analogous terms, a 'deontological' and a 'consequentialist' position as common-sense (and not an academician's refined and precise sense) would understand these terms?
We emphasize the term common-sense for good reasons. We wish to rely on two faculties in tandem: that of reason and feeling. Feeling, in turn, is on account of experience. In effect, we wish to approach our opening question through the guiding light of 'quality of feeling' examined through the use of reason: of the common-sensical form instead of its highly analytical, logical, and somewhat misguided cousin. This, of course, implies that our minds are likewise not to be swayed by supernatural accounts, assertions of divinity and their variegated brethern.
For it is immensely fruitful to remember the dictum: There is a justification for common sense in philosophy, but only as showing that our theoretical principles cannot be quite correct so long as their consequences are condemned by an appeal to common-sense which we feel to be irresistible (Chapter 13: Locke's Theory of Knowledge, History of Western Philosophy, Bertrand Russell).
This per force requires us to strip the characters of Krishna and Arjun of their mythical, supernatural and larger-than-life historical significance, and instead treat them as our next door neighbours, but somewhat illustrious ones. We accordingly endow them with adequate abilities of reasoning, sensitivity, refined powers of perception and a philosophic disposition. This kind of endowment means that what they said (or purported to have said) deserves respectful attention, and there is no basis, at the outset, to prefer the position of one over the other.
To begin our strenuous excursion, let us look at the character less complex, more straightforward, and one that most of us can easily relate to. What indeed was Arjun's position?
As a trained and experienced warrior of reputed competence, it would be an error to presume he cringed at the prospect of a loss of face. Indeed, it is doubtful whether, at first thought, he even cringed at the prospect of a bloodbath that was sure to follow. However, since we have attributed certain endowments to him, it is but natural for our common-sense to expect that, thoughtfully & reflectively, standing in the theatre of a war that would surely have led to annihilation of several clans, groups, communities and generations (with one or more lineages permanently erased), the thought is bound to have flirted across Arjun's mind: what is the point of it all?
A person of lesser philosophic disposition would be spared such a misfortune. Philosophers though have had a proven habit of entertaining thoughts that, in the short-run, are detrimental to their own mental and physical well-being. The fact that such a question should cross Arjun's mind is a given. If it hadn't one would have to call into question the merit and significance of the dialogue between Arjun and Krishna.
For why would Krishna expend so much effort to convince a man of lesser philosophic wisdom? There are folks that abound, who, with a glint in their eyes, proffer a secular answer: Krishna had a strategic design in mind with regard to the clash of the aryans and the dasyus. But then lets leave aside history that gives fodder to the left and the right. To the fundamental position and question of Arjun, Krishna tried his very best to respond. And respond he did.
Apparently, such was the force of his response that Arjun was convinced that it was he who had erred in his thinking, and we might add, his feeling of being dismayed. Along with Arjun, many in generations to come, too, were equally taken in by Krishna's answer.
To that answer, the excerpt by Sen provides a counter-position: maybe, just maybe, Krishna wasn't that right as one would like to believe. Why? To understand, we need to chisel away with a sharpnel at Krishna's response. Krishna did try every strategem in the book to turn Arjun's mind around. But was there such a deep and fundamental flaw in the question that Arjun posed?
It would appear almost that Arjun was served a reprimand like a teacher serves one to a pupil for, what the teacher perceives to be, a bold, out-of-place, untimely and inappropriate question. Arjun's timing was indeed bit of an issue: an apparently brave warrior cannot ask an existential question in the midst of a war. Or can he?
History, with its handmaidenship of mythology, shows with sufficient evidence, that arising of an existential crisis, however feeble, is the beginning of a long and arduous journey to self-exerted enlightenment. Examples abound with a ruthless consistency: Siddhartha Gotama the prince, Muhammad the trader & businessman, Jesus of Bethleham, the saints of the bhakti tradition, people with high levels of sensitivity & perceptivity including writers, painters, poets, theoretical scientists and so forth. If one were to take upon the exercise of compiling such a list, the output would be illuminating and daunting across any culture of one's picking: be it the sub-continent, the Native Americans, the peoples of the Africa, Europe and the multiple lands of Asia.
It is thus not an unpardonable crime for a reasonably intelligent, sensitive and philosophical being to experience an existential dilemma. A civilised society would indeed welcome these dilemma, encouraging the individual to probe the deeper underlying causes behind it and be given enough space to let that understanding yield a fecund outcome for society.
So we march forward under the presumption that Krishna and Arjun were part of a civilised society: albeit, one which thought that fighting a war was par for the course. Under our conjured presumption, let us all welcome and accept Arjun's existential crisis, and instead of scoffing at him for holding back the somewhat entertaining war, let's enter his mind and, in so doing, construct an alternative outcome.
Let us boldly imagine that Arjun was after all right. What indeed is the purpose of such a war? What Ashoka apparently discovered post-Kalinga Arjun discovers pre-Kurushetra. Now let us imagine Arjun, with the stature he enjoys, publicly putting down his bow and arrow and renouncing his participation in the war.
Instead of Krishna, it is he who lectures the rest on the absolute futility of this theatre of war. After exhausting himself to his heart's content, we can see him leaving the war and society that he is part of for good. He takes on the robes of a monk, purifies his conduct, meditates and achieves a semblance of enlightenment or its complete & absolute version.
His fame spreads far and wide. Generations to follow, belonging to or associated with his clan lovingly and proudly speak of his bold and contrarian move. If we grant all of this to Arjun, Arjun would have been the fiercely parochial and protective Brahminical Hinduism's answer to the Buddha.
Would this code of action by Arjun have prevented the great war? Common-sense shies away from an answer. It can beget two possibilities: one, the moment Arjun would have left the theatre, those in position to influence would have laughed at him. Mocked him. Called him a run-of-the-mill idealist and carried on with their dance of war. Others may have silently approved but then, with lesser philosophic disposition, would not have had the endurance to hold Arjun's thought in their mind steadily, reflect upon it, build enough powers of conviction within themselves to defy those dance-masters and leave with Arjun (we are somehow reminded of Tom Cruise's office escapade in Jerry Maguire).
The second possibility, of lower probability, is that Arjun's words would have had the intended effect. It would have converted the views of those who held the reins in their hands. Each side would then have introspected and gradually melted away.
On one hand, then, we have Arjun taking a turn towards renunciation. On the other, we have the participation of Arjun in the war on the lines of what we have been schooled in. Which course of action would our common sense approve of?
Some of us perhaps already have our answer to this conundrum. But we can keep it, for the time-being, in cold-storage. It is worth noting that commencing from a very popular dialogue, we have come down to a very fundamental and simple question. It is against this question that Krishna's response must now be put in perspective. Why couldn't Krishna encourage Arjun to take route 1 as opposed to route 2? What was Krishna's intention? Was its basis indeed the deep philosophical wisdom that Krishna expressed in ever so many ways?
We now turn to Krishna's response as it is etched in our popular memory through stories, and television serials; as we know it through our collective popular imagination, and not through sitting diligently through many weekends hearing the interpretation of Gita through the voices of scholars and gurus.
It is this (popular) response that finds a subterranean echo in the actual words of corporate decision-makers, business newspapers, and off-hand conversations. Even when the words are not alluded to, we sometimes find people acting under its vigorous influence. And it also happens to be one of the most popular discourses in the collective imagination of a certain section of India.
Krishna tried first the strategy that every rhetorician would: questioning the timing of Arjun's turn of emotion. Why, at this very moment, when a war of lasting historic import was about to be waged, did Arjun have a change of heart? Even if this change of heart was genuine, wasn't it too late in the day to ruminate on such philosophical considerations? What kind of message would it send to those who have rallied behind him, his brothers and his clan? How would his clan face upto the shame of Arjun relinquishing war?
A man of weaker heart would have acquiesced under this argument. Not because these arguments have an irrefutable element of truth; but because, every man, unless he is a born hero, is sensitive to how others will perceive him, his family, his clan and whatever else he identifies himself with. Every heart yearns to protect that which it desires. Depending on one's mental make-up, one may either succumb to its demands, or one may resist.
Arjun chose to resit, which itself speaks well of him. Even if he failed past this point, he at least rallied up till here. Most politicians today, especially those on the national stage, would fail to meet this very first test of self-conviction. They will maneuver, manipulate and malign to ensure their self-image at no time is tarnished; even if the issue at hand has nothing to do with image-building but everything to do with the masses.
Shrinking that which is of import to persons at large to that which is of import to a single person (who is rather small by all accounts) is the dirty art of rhetoric and politics we are left to witness. On this there is a lesson or two to be learnt from Arjun.
But to apply the label of rhetorician to Krishna is to do him grave injustice. For, as number of incidents in the remainder of Mahabharata point out, Krishna was an intelligent mind constantly at work. Understanding Krishna is trying to understand him between the lines which is tiresome after a point.
Krishna can charm you if you agree with him. If you disagree he can combatively dismiss you through persistent argumentation wrapped in a philosophical garb. His dismissal can therefore seem less of a dismissal to those at the dismissive end; 'stead it can appear as a surrender into the arms of a benevolent friend and well-wisher. Throughout history, the philosopher-prophet has said it all except that aching realisation: beware of a philosopher-prophet.
Given that Krishna's intellect is of an exceptional nature, we then are compelled to seriously inquire: why did Krishna not agree to Arjun's argument on the futility of the war? What irrefutable argument did Krishna offer to vanquish this conception and question in the mind of Arjun?
A popular proposition put in Krishna's mouth by the compilers of Gita comes to the fore. In effect it states: let each play the role assigned to him as per the script. Lets examine the merit of this argument. The best way is to test whether application of this dictum in our daily lives helps.
To start with we need to define the term "help". Lets eschew its moral connotations and restrict ourselves to its utilitarian effects. We need to look no farther than Adam Smith. Smith himself would be hard-pressed to disagree with Krishna. He would be inclined to say that if each man engages himself in pursuit of that activity for which his endowments are best suited, his chances of reaping rewards stand on the brighter side.
Of course, this is an observable generality. This is hardly a coup-d'etat for our curious common-sense. Krishna, was after all a philosopher, so we will have to take it as a given that he meant something more. If we withdraw a little, we do realize that Krishna was also saying this situated in a highly charged context. So what is the implication of this utilitarian truth when overlaid with contextual overtones?
Within the floatsam of our realities some examples pop out unsolicited: whatever inclinations a judge may harbour in his private study & chambers, in the confines of the courtroom his role is to be an objective arbiter of pronouncing judgements in line with the constitution. Likewise, whatever view a doctor may hold of an indivdiual, in sickness, he has no freedom but to annihilate all distinctions. Moving further up the monetary chain, ditto for the CEO of a large shareholder-driven corporate; or the Nations' elected Prime Minister -- supposedly the second-highest-ranked public servant.
In all such examples as above we are made aware that a strict application of Krishna's dictum would entail separation of that which is 'personal' and that which is bound by the 'role' one has to discharge. The personal is that, which as the Buddha said, is 'This is mine', 'This is me' and 'I am this'. While that which is bound by the context, by the role, by the situation and the circumstance is: 'This is the context. This is the situation. If I act in this way, the situation would (could) change in this manner. If I act in that way, the situation would (could) change in that manner'.
This separation of the 'I' from the circumstance (or more precisely, happenstance) is our first breakthrough when chiselling away with our sharpnel through that dark, dingy and convoluted cave of philosophy. We are starting to slowly acquire a measure of appreciation for Krishna's rhetorico-philosophical approach: simplicity and profundity which goes at the heart of our lived reality. There is enough to chew on here, for both Arjun, and our, now slightly burdened & beleagured common-sense. Poor it: never thought playing a defense lawyer will bring forth harrowing visions of the 'I'.
We have endowed Arjun and Krishna with a fair share of enviable qualities. Time now for our common-sense to ask for some endowments for self. One of which is of having a primitive capacity to enact this separation, at least at a level of day to day consciousness. As we are about to discover, we will be in its sore need to tackle the path forward.
Because the question we feared most is now brought to bear upon us with a vehement clarity we cannot ignore: now that the mind can suppress, even if for a moment, the most grossest of its 'personal' urges, where should it turn? This way? Or That way?
Imagine a tree. In early years of one's growing up, every act of the mind is climbing up the bark. After a fashion, every subsequent act is an act of moving along the branches: leftwards or rightwards. Every act and decision seems small. But over a sustained period of time one may find oneself on the wrong branch with having to reverse many steps to uncover & undo that one has done and start moving along another branch. And if one moves too far along the wrong branch one may just trip over and have a hard-landing.
The question of this or that then becomes the all-pervading philosophical question for common-sense: a question of life and death. A judge has his constitution to guide him. A doctor has his code of medical conduct to set him right in his moments of weakness. Where should common-sense of a common-man turn to? To scriptures? But are the scriptures and conduct laid down in them sacrosanct? The constitution of the judge (in common-law jurisdiction) is an evolving corpus. Ditto for the code of medical conduct. Both of these are fluid in that sense and there is a community of researchers and practitioners working to revise and update them on an incremental but on-going basis.
But does community of common-men have a say in updating the scriptures on an on-going basis? Is common-sense trained to point out that these parts of a scripture are wrong, worthless and set in a context which is foolish to adhere to today? On the other hand, does common-sense have conviction to independently identify those parts of scriptures that have transcendental merit and need further exploration, understanding and practice? When everything is the word of 'God' or ascribed to divinity is such an attitude possible? Especially, when such an attitude had been inculcated much before the rational faculties of the child's mind had a chance to fully develop?
In effect, Krishna's dictum has awakened common-sense from its delusional slumber and brought it to a point where it has recognized the imperative of alertness, of reason, of treating every small act with significance. Common-sense realizes that the ocean is indeed made up of individual drops of water. There is no singular mass of water to fill it up. Whether the ocean is polluted or pristine is contingent on every drop that has gone into it. Even a drop of water mixed with oil is enough to spoil the virginity of a translucent lake for an eye that is discerning and responsible.
Krishna has brought common-sense to a cross-road where it recognizes that acting in line with one's endowments is important at every step to ensure constant improvement in efficacy and efficiency. The reason it is a cross-road is that the mind is actually now stuck. A series of questions torment it. Efficacy towards what? Say a mind has intelligence as its endowment. To what end and to what purpose must it apply this intelligence? And once it has selected a purpose, how should it go about applying its critical endowments to achieve that purpose?
To the former question of "to what end" common-sense has a primordial follow-up question: who determines this purpose? How is a mind to know that at a given point in time this is precisely its purpose and not that?
Krishna's dictum was: play the role assigned to you in the script. The scripts says "Thou art borne in a warrior clan so the role is to be a warrior". But then this begs the question: who says that a mere act of being borne in a warrior clan or being trained as a warrior necessitates against all odds to play that role unconditionally, uncritically and categorically? To this no irrefutable argument comes forward. At this stage, Arjun would have two alternatives: accept on faith that the role assigned to him is the right role. Or, continue to proceed along the route of questioning.
It is evident that Arjun did not so readily adopt route 1. Because we know that it took Krishna to reveal his true self (that of an all pervading, omniscient divine self) to really dissolve Arjun's doubt completely. However, we all accepted at the beginning that miracles, charms and revelations by divinity have no relevance for common-sense. These things 'extraordinaire' are beyond the grasp of common-sense. So it has to adopt the second track: to continue its line of questioning.
So it agains asks: to what end? To that Gita offers the transcendental answer of "Moksha". Much like a judge by playing the role of a judge is striving for 'justice' and a doctor in a similar vein is striving for the aim of 'healing', Krishna urges Arjun to focus on the highly transcendental and intangible goal of "Moksha". It is so aloft that the mind cannot easily grasp it. Indeed the mind cannot even understand why is such a 'thing' deemed a 'goal'. This scepticism is easy for common-sense to overcome: it knows examples of eminent human beings who have managed to reach this state of existence. So common-sense has enough historical data points to convince itself that what Krishna proffered as a 'goal' was not a charlatan's trick but an achievable and real objective worth striving for.
But then common-sense asks: how is playing one's role related to Moksha? But even before it gets there common-sense is still stuck in the cesspool of who really decides the role? What does this term 'role' really mean? In really hitting at this term with all its might, all that common-sense unearths is that this weighty term 'role' is nothing but a 'label'.
That is, it is an identifier that means something. A 'warrior' is nothing but an identifier associated with a set of mental and physical events. Similarly, the labels of 'father', 'son', 'spouse', 'colleague', 'neighbour' are nothing but labels associated with a set of feelings, thoughts and actions. But if these roles are nothing but labels aren't they just fabrications of mind? Of the ability of the mind to articulate, to express --- that is, of the mind's felicity of the use of language? If these roles are just labels which in turn are mental fabrications these roles are by definition 'constructed'. They are not a given: a first principle from which everything else descends. Then why is that these roles should be treated as sacrosanct? Simply because they have been enshrined by the scriptures, sanctified and verified to be useful by custom and, ultimately, propounded from the very mouth of divinity?
These labels are sacrosanct provided a leap of faith is taken by the mind. If the mind does take a leap of faith then the road closes there and then. All that the mind is left to do is to study the scriptures and diligently apply itself to the code laid down in there. But as we said, common-sense has an explicit endowment of curiosity, wonder and reason. All this prompts it to the natural path of continued inquiry. So while the believer may rest here, common-sense will not. It will like to see where the chain of causation takes it. Because at the end of the day common-sense has a very common-question it needs to address: should it act this way or that way in the here-and-the-now? Under no circumstance is common-sense likely to acquiesce to acting on the basis of mere mental fabrications concoted by human agency and of uncertain validity.
Thus, while a warrior may be expected to fight, common-sense is in no mood to accept the attribution of the mental fabrication 'warrior' without getting a satisfactory answer to the question: does playing the role of a warrior unconditionally, uncritically and categorically lead it to 'moksha'?
The counter to the position of common-sense will be: isn't the term 'moksha' also a play on words, a mental fabrication? Common-sense will have to concede yes. But the position of common-sense is not a critical attitude to 'fabrications' per se. It is a critical attitude to developing a power of discernment to recognize 'fabrications' as 'fabrications' and determine which of them hold greater potency for betterment, for acquiring greater good so to speak in the language of the economist. With that meaning firmly in mind, 'warrior' as a fabrication with its associated implications of acts of killing others demands far greater scrutiny, far greater due diligence than the fabrication of 'moksha' which, as a goal, seems far superior to that concerned with acquisition of wealth, fame, excessive material comforts, all of which eventually culminates in the stultifying pleasures of the senses.
Thus common-sense through Arjun asks Krishna: but really, how will playing the role of the warrior lead to 'moksha'? Promptly Krishna offers the answer that because by doing so you will be doing your duty and acting in accordance with Dharma, with what is just, with what is right. Now there is something meatier for common-sense to chew. What it discerns Krishna as saying is that if you do what is right then that is the categorical path to 'moksha'. Common-sense is a sucker for 'moksha'. It enthusiastically and eagerly, to the point of impatience, is grasping at 'deliverance'. In its impatient groping for an answer it has now stumbled upon a possible causality: doing what is right leads to 'moksha'.
So common-sense is eagerly awaiting for Arjun to ask the natural follow-up question: so what is right? Arjun duly obliges. At first Krishna, being the intelligent man that he is, does a play on words: that is right which involves faithfully playing one's role. Of course both Arjun and common-sense know this is beating the bush once too often. So Krishna must brace for some tougher questions.
The first such question that flings straight at him is: who determines what is right? What is the dharma? Is the priest to determine for the plebeian the terms of rightness on account of his supposed superior intellect and power of mental vision? Is the signature of the few across the dotted lines to determine the fate of many? Would that signature determine in which direction the wealth flows, the bombs fly? Ultimately, when the priest is probed hard enough he will be likely to say that is right which is enshrined in the 'law' uttered by the ancients, the prophets and sanctified in the holy books. Which is effectively saying that as the mind traverses backward one step at a time it reaches a point where no answers are forthcoming and everything has to be necessarily attributed to the 'One'.
This attribution, even if true, does no good to the mind of common-sense. Because that attribution cannot answer the question of this way or that way in a manner that resolves all possible doubts. The modernist may scoff at the religious traditionalist for his reliance on the word of 'God'. But the modernist or even the post-modernist is no worse off. In lieu of God we now have Adam Smith's invisible hand of the market. The free-market capitalist swears by a maddening belief in the existence of such a benevolent, just and invisible hand that sets things right over the long run. Except that most people are dead in the long-run. Even if the invisible hand sets what is right over 50 years, it would have claimed 500 million as 'collateral damage' in the interim. It is difficult to feel the benevolent hand for the ones that are part of the 'collateral damage': the ones struggling to get their daily quota of water, food and energy. No wonder they prefer the 'word of God' to the 'invisible hand of the market'. At least the term 'God' holds greater good than the term 'market'. Just as 'moksha' means much more than 'being a warrior'.
Then again common-sense sees an emergence of a curious breed: those that swear by the invisible hand-of-the-market on one side and carry the word of the god on the other side. As Dylan said they are the ones who kill with God on their side.
So evidently the simple answer that playing the role leads to a greater good is not going to cut any ice with common-sense. It has been fooled many times before with this simple and seemingly profound utterance. No more can it take it at face value. It needs some tangible proof that it itself can practice and verify and which does not require a major leap of faith on its part. It can no longer accept the proposition that a few can exercise the right to determine the fate of many. Every act of common-sense will be valid if and only if it is exercised under full and final freedom of thinking. As long as it remains in the clutches of first principles it simply cannot experience and verify in the here-and-the-now.
By now Krishna realizes that the lazy way out will not work. Heaping philosophical arguments that simply 'sound' heavy and that take the help of all-encompassing terms like 'dharma' is not going to work beyond a point. Knowing what is to come next, Krishna tries to pre-empt further disruptive questioning with the help of the penultimate arrow in his arsenal of rhetorical stratagems by the most profound utterance of them all: act without consideration for the fruit of the action.
For a moment, and for the first time, Arjun stumbles. It is also for the first-time since the dialogue started that he is filled with a different type of self-doubt. One can imagine him thinking: have I stretched my initial self-doubt of taking part in the war too far? Am I approaching a territory for which there are no answers that human reason can supply? What if there is indeed a pre-ordained word of God that writes the script, converts it into a storyline, assigns each character his due, selects who will play what role and then directs and produces the whole show? Has he committed sacrilege indeed by going against this very word of 'God'?
Common-sense is now alarmed. It knows that when the mind is in this frame it is an ideal receipient for miracles, charms and tricks. It is also most receptive to the conception of 'God' in all its superlative manifestations. It recollects the very human words of Spinoza: "Men would never be superstitious, if they could govern all their circumstances by set rules, or if they were always favoured by fortune: but being frequently driven into straits where rules are useless, and being often kept fluctuating pitiably between hope and fear by the uncertainty of fortune's greedily coveted favours, they are consequently, for the most part, very prone to credulity. The human mind is readily swayed this way or that in times of doubt, especially when hope and fear are struggling for the mastery, though usually it is boastful, over-confident and vain."
Common-sense knows it has very little room left to push Arjun to keep the discourse along the path of reason. Common-sense also knows that what will follow next is the manifestation of 'Godliness' of Krishna in all its magnificent splendour. The philosophical coup-d'etat of Krishna has ensured that the only window left for common-sense to 'play its role' (no irony intended) is in the here-and-the-now.
So it will have to attack this dictum of: act without consideration to the fruits of action: with all its common-sensical might. The reason Arjun feels a weakness in his knees on hearing this dictum is because these words put togther, appear, worth all philosophy. It is precisely because of this potency that they possess that they are a very dangeours tool if used in an inappropriate context at an inappropriate time. These words can awaken those sleeping and put back to sleep those partially awakened. Only the fully awakened can really decipher the true meaning of these words. Thus the danger of Arjun reverting back to sleep by adhering to the path of unquestioning faith are quite high.
Why do these words hold such potency? Because these words, for all their philosophical gravity, hold beneath their reins a very simple piece of knowledge that the mind can readily grasp and verify: that this follows from that. A piece of knowledge that the child also knows: if I do this then that will happen. Hence, to do that I must do this again. Philosophers and scientists call it the law of cause-and-effect. Historians, artists, poets, writers, religious fundamentalists, material hedonists all have no arguments against it and indeed, this law creeps into their own systems of beliefs in one way or another.
Krishna's originality is not in discovering it. What is known by the mind of the child, indeed what is ingrained in the very structure of the human mind, does not need the agency of one individual to discover and lay claim on to it. The ingenuity of Krishna lies in using it to achieve a specific goal. Much as the Buddha's ingenuity lay in realizing the role of training the mind so that it sees everything as a chain of cause and effect and using this development of the mind to turn the mind towards the unchallenged goal of 'Unbinding', 'Nibbanna' or 'Un-clinging'. Similarly, Spinoza's ingenuity lay in creating bottom-up a system of philosophy to train the mind to again view one's life as a series of cause and effects governed by strict natural laws. So to that extent, the ingenuity of Krishna lay in using this very fact as a stratagem. Before Arjun's knees crumble fully, common-sense has an obligation to understand to what end is Krishna trying to apply this law, whose potency was known to many intelligent and exceptional minds of the human race.
Why would Krishna proffer the dictum of 'detached action' as the answer and anti-dote to the nagging doubt that Arjun had on playing part in the war? Why was the path of renunciation not actively encouraged? For as common-sense would understand, an act of renunciation very much involves the act of detachment and dispassion as the starting point. Can common-sense even comprehend what does it mean to fight war in a detached frame of mind? Detached from the killing which would follow, detached from the cries of wives, children and old men and women seeing their sons wounded and killed? What kind of detachment does this really entail? Indeed, can this be called detachment in any common-sensical sense of the term? Can one indeed kill with God on one's side?
Especially, when a qualified and acknowledged teacher of renunciation and meditation so clearly articulated: "Whatever a monk keeps pursuing with his thinking & pondering, that becomes the inclination of his awareness. If a monk keeps pursuing thinking imbued with sensuality, abandoning thinking imbued with renunciation, his mind is bent by that thinking imbued with sensuality. If a monk keeps pursuing thinking imbued with ill will, abandoning thinking imbued with non-ill-will, his mind is bent by that thinking imbued with ill will. If a monk keeps pursuing thinking imbued with harmfulness, abandoning thinking imbued with harmlessness, his mind is bent by that thinking imbued with harmfulness. "
Is it possible to imagine a state of mind that is filled with pure equanimity with no thought of ill-will, regret and aversion at the point when the arrow is about to leave the bow in one's hand? Like reason, imagination too cannot supply an answer.
So, evidently, the dictum of detached action was not meant to say no to fighting a war. In the specific context of the war, it was meant to supplement and strengthen the dictum of playing one's role. How could a literal following of 'detached action' help Arjun resolve his predicament? Playing the role, we inferred, was analogous to acting in line with one's endowment to become more proficient in the activity one is engaged in. Whenever the question has arisen what activity should one focus on the discourse has skillfully shifted the focus back to the very 'act' of 'doing' from 'what to do and why to do it'.
For a moment lets consent to this demand of the discourse. Lets try to examine the merit of the dictum 'act in a detached fashion' with respect to how this dictum can add to the skillfulness of the present action. Lets take an example of an action from daily life that one can relate to. Consider the act of driving. When one gets in the driver's seat of a car one is getting in with a certain sense of purpose, objective and direction. The purpose could be to reach from one place to another. It could simply be to take a joyride. In either case there is a purpose to arouse the mind to action.
Once the mind is aroused, a certain sequence of events emerge from the sub-conscious. That of getting ready, locating the key, reaching the car, opening the door, starting the ignition, lowering the hand-brake and putting the car in gear and moving forward. Now in this sequence of events what if there is a persistent consciousness that I need to reach the destination as quickly as possible? It would actually slow down the entire sequence of events. Maybe some genius mind can create a mathematical model to evaluate the time differential between the two scenarios. And that model is run across both scenarios across multiple instances. Statistically, it is likely to emerge that when the mind is fully focused on the action at hand the time efficiency will certainly be higher. But common-sense does not need a mathematical model. It can verify it in practice for itself.
Further, as time efficiency improves the probability of reaching the destination improves. For imagine, running late for a meeting and one's driving frequently interrupted by the thought of being late. What is likely to happen? He is likely to overtake from the wrong side, press the break far too often because he will not be fully alert to the vehicle in front of him. In an unpleasant scenario he may jump a signal and in a well-regulated city in India (which is difficult to locate on the map) be booked for breaking of traffic rules. In the worst possible case, he may be involved in an accident.
Thus, the shift of attention from the immediate act to a thought accompanied by anxiety reduces the probability (however marginally) of achieving the goal. This is about a single event in a single day. What about if one's job is to drive a car 10 hours of the day and day on day? A radio cab driver for instance? Wouldn't the joint probability be material? Would it not fundamentally impair the value of the radio cab driver?
Thus at a very utilitarian level the dictum of 'focusing on the act and not the result' makes eminent sense. This is not to say that the desire for result is not needed. Without such desire the act itself is not possible. Every act needs a fuel and desire that leads to intention is that fuel. Intention supplies directionality to the operation of the mind. But the directionality has to be just enough to keep the mind functioning in its most effective manner to reach what the mind desires very much at the outset. It is the difference between a boss providing guidance and occasionally reviewing the efforts of the sub-ordinate versus a boss that micromanages. We all know that, on average, success from the first type of approach will yield better results.
Thus, it does not need further belabouring to prove that keeping attention focused on the action at hand is surely a way to enhance skillfulness of a given sequence of actions thereby improving probability of meeting an objective. So if Arjun duly follows Krishna's dictum he would be able to wield his bow with greater efficiency and efficacy for sure. Or can he? He can do so only under one condition: provided all doubts and passions in his mind with regard to the question of 'whether he should wield the bow in the first place' have been fully vanquished. But common-sense has beaten the bush enough on this: that a reasoned interpretation of Krishna's dictum cannot vanquish such existential doubts once and for all.
It is the difference between driving a car to reach a destination to abuse someone versus reaching a destination to help someone. The end purpose directly feeds back into the present unconsciousness of the mind. It does disturb, agitate the mind. It makes it vibrate randomly here and there making it restless. And why does it happen? Because deep-down there is no denying the fact that the unconscious is in touch with something called 'conscience'. It is the conscience which is the 'real hand of the god' that cuts the large to small, makes the arrogant man meet his nemesis. It is the ever present Trojan's horse.
There is one way that conscience can be overcome --- through sheer force of habit. If the mind says to itself day and night that it is ok to steal, it is ok to use bad speech, it is ok to be selfish then the mind can actually turn that corner. And for such a habit to develop against the force of one's own conscience one thing is needed: an ability to rationalize. There is no greater rationalization than the belief that what one's conscience condemns, 'God' has approved. For if Krishna is 'God' and Krishna commends focusing on the act that in turn is enjoined by one's karma and one's birth then the questions of conscience have little power.
The casualty is of course the term 'skillfulness'. Skillfulness remains confined to the realm of efficiency and efficacy and cannot rise to meet the demands of 'conscience', 'balance', 'fairness' and such weightier terms which it is fully familiar with. Much like modern capitalism is super efficient on management of money but cannot much bother itself with the facts of inequality, deprivation and environmental degradation. Those who practice free-market capitalism in its full glory have of course formed a certain habit of mind that is sustained by a certain set of beliefs based on (mis)readings of eminent philosophers and economists of yesteryears.
But like Noam Chomsky said: the followers of Adam Smith have emphasized and repeated the 'invisible hand of the market' more than Adam Smith himself has. To be precise: Adam Smith mentioned the phrase barely once in his magnum opus. But ever since, a legion of followers have conveniently repeated it ad-nauseam to create a habit of mind that rationalizes the notion that the market will correct itself efficiently, fully and at all times. This gives a free licence to those priviledged by finance and power to act without adequate safeguards.
This brings us back to the question: like Adam Smith, did Krishna really mean that play one's role at all cost? Common-sense will never know. So it cannot bring a charge of treason against Krishna. However, what common-sense can say is that the dictum of 'detached action' cannot be applied uncritically. For such a dictum will need complete and absolute support of one's conscience. The cleansing of the conscience is the foundation upon which such a dictum can work wonders. Without such a foundation, it is fertile ground for destructive misuse --- not by the one who knows it but by the one who does not understand and has internalized the dictum properly. For those who do not critically assess it will be bound to use it as a tool for rationalization rather than reason.
Indeed, this dictum can help a lot of people surmise their present states of affairs: especially if these state of affairs happen to be of a negative kind. Further such a dictum leads itself well as a principle of governance of society. That is not to say it is a correct principle to govern society by. Rather it can be given class, caste and other societal interpretations and can be used to order society in a certain manner.
On the other hand, what does a critical application of this dictum demand? It demands first a recognition of the pre-requisite of virtue. For without a clear conscience and a practice of virtue, one's conscience will always be assailing one's deep unconsciousness with untimely doubts, confusions and questions that will constantly put invisible road-blocks in the grand plans that one's active thinking faculty conjures up. To quote:
"A virtuous and moral life is an absolute prerequisite for practicing the sets. This is a point that cannot be overstated, a fact reflected in the large number of canonical passages that hammer it home: far too many to include in this anthology. Some of the sets --- the five faculties / strengths and the noble eightfold path --- actually include the practice of a virtuous life in their factors, under the faculty/strength of conviction, and under the factors of right speech, right action, and right livelihood in the eightfold path. The remaining sets, the texts tell us, are meant to follow on the development of personal virtue in the same way that sunrise follows on the pre-dawn colors in the eastern sky.
The texts explain the precepts that underline a virtuous life, not as rules imposed by an outside authority, but as guidelines for action that a person would voluntarily undertake when accepting the importance of the principles of kamma and skillful action in shaping the course of one's experiences. Killing, for instance, is obviously an unskillful action when viewed in the full light of its kammic consequences. The same holds true with other actions forbidden by the precepts, such as drinking alcohol, stealing, illicit sex, lying, and abusive language. ... Buddha's teaching on virtue consist not only of the "dont's" of the precepts, but also of the "do's" of such positive standards as sympathy, reliability, and genuine helpfulness. Skillfulness is not simply a matter of avoiding bad consequences; it also actively cultivates the good.
In keeping with the teaching that kamma is essentially intention, the precepts are designed to focus on the state of mind motivating the act. A precept is broken only when does so intentionally. Thus the practice of observing the precepts requires constant attention to the factor of intention in one's action; it also requires that one develop the "sublime attitudes" of good will, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity, which strengthen one's ability to side with skillful intentions
. ...
... A moral life brings about absence of remorse; people who, in all honesty, have no reason for remorse over their actions or anxiety over the consequences of those actions, feel a natural sense of inner joy. This joy is intensified when they reflect on the positive acts of kindness and generosity that they have performed for others. Thus intensified, this joy then provides the basis for the inner pleasure that allows for concentration. In this way, a healthy sense of self-worth is a necessary precondition for a stable mind.
"--- A. The Treasures of the Teaching, The Seven Sets, Part II, Wings to Awakening", by Thanissaro Bhikkhu (Geoffrey DeGraff)"
It pays to spend some time on internalizing what the above means. A diligent self-observation will convince each man that almost all of his waking moments comprise of actions that are driven by impulse, instinct, reflexivity, entrenched habits of thinking, emotional adherence to customs, an imbalanced sense of respect for self, family, community, nation, issues and so forth. During a day there are exceptional moments when the mind is fully conscious of each word of each thought as the thought is forming in the mind. That is, the mind is very rarely in a firm state of purposefulness, resoluteness and alertness for any meaningful and measurable duration of time. That is, the mind is hardly mindful of its own self. For all practical purposes, most of us are sleeping even when we think we are awake.
A turn of the mind from this slothfulness to one which is actively monitoring its own health every moment is the ultimate purpose of any religious system. The bliss that is deemed to follow this state of awareness is very much a logical fruit of the effort that leads the mind to this state. How to understand this state of mind at a more pedestrian and utilitarian level? A level that most of us can relate to more easily with?
A man of science or one endowed with a scientific temper would intuitively understand what this kind of a state of mind really means. For a body of knowledge constructed through a scientific method follows a very conscious process of construction. A method of science begins with a question that begs for an answer. While probably not true, the story of Newton's search for gravitation serves as a good example. Most of these questions arise from personal experiences. The questions of 'how does fire work', 'why is the elephant large and an ant small' and so forth. The questions may seem inane but they trigger a process. A question that starts the religious journey is usually 'Why am I unhappy?'.
Upon arising of a question a man of science tries to define the terms of the question or tries to frame it in appropriate terms. For instance, in understanding how the fire works, as the man of science goes about defining the term fire he comes across the fact that 'there is no such unitary thing called fire'. It is a combination of 'fuel', 'something to ignite the fuel with' and 'smoke'. Upon constant observation he realizes that fire is a process and not a thing. This is nothing but a process of experiential trial and error based on constant dialogue between observation and active thinking.
What if the same process is applied to the term 'unhappy'? It will lead any man to see unhappiness in all its forms: death, pain, illness, feelings of aversion, feelings of impatience, anger, haughtiness, irritation, hatred, separation from parents, from spouse, from children and so on. The more the mind becomes conscious of the term 'unhappiness' it slowly moves from understanding the term 'unhappiness' not only in terms of self but starts seeing unhappiness in general, in toto, independent of who it impacts. Thus arises the first inkling of sensitivity to pain, to suffering both for oneself and for others. This is where one's conscience finally awakens. Recollecting the injunction from Umberto Eco: there is a simple way to turn philosopher. Think about death every day. It is an irony that death is the only certainty that the mind is aware of. Yet it is the subject that is least thought about for most of one's life. How many can clearly answer the question: What is the thought that should cross my conscious mind when I am about to breath my last breath?
During the mind's exertions to understand the term unhappiness, from a deep slumber suddenly the conscience becomes an active sub-conscious thought. It starts mixing in with other thoughts. It starts questioning the other thoughts. The mind now starts slowly seeing things in terms of 'what is harmful' and 'what is not harmful', what is 'right' and what is 'wrong'.
However, for this kind of thought to become a permanent fixture requires exertion and persistence. It requires going back frequently to the starting question and understanding what made it arise in the first place. For example, if Newton is unable to find a solution to his question of 'why did the apple fall' he would have two choices: to abandon the question or to continue with the question but with a new approach.
The difference between the ones that get the manna and those that don't is actually only this. It is the difference between Keanu Reeves taking the blue pill or the red pill in the Matrix. The most profound aims are accomplished through seemingly simple and, at times, binary choices. Life is most of the times shades of all colours. But in critical moments it is usually black and white. For those who make the appropriate choice, what follows is a typical scientific route of discovery.
As the mind starts seeing things as duality: that which aligns with the solution to the question and that which does not align, it wants to realize small victories in the here and now. So, it starts framing 'what is right' in form of specific 'standards of conduct' or 'precepts'. Adherence to these standards not only allows the mind to do what is right, it also allows the mind to see what happens when it does what is right. That is, if it were to just act habitually what would happen versus making a deliberate attempt to side with the opposite of its habitual and incorrect response. Its conviction in its own search strengthens. Soon, these precepts start multiplying and impacting behaviour.
As the modifications of behaviour and mind reach a certain limit, the mind saturates. It now knows it is good at following the precepts it has set for itself. But it wants more. So it further asks itself: I can do this, but is there anything more I can do? It is once again forced to look at the term unhappiness. Before it had defined it as right and wrong actions, speech and thoughts. Now it finds that even the very vibrations of thinking (even if the thinking is about good and healthy topics) is 'unhappiness'. That is, the definition of unhappiness has becomes subtle, refined. A child will talk about a ball as a ball. A mathematician will prefer to talk about the geometry of the ball. The difference is invaluably profound. The former leads to sports. The latter leads to beautiful theories of forms and curvatures.
Once one understands this is how the mind really works, there is little difficulty in accepting the fact that virtue is a pre-requisite. For virtue is not a burden that the mind has to discharge. Virtue is the anti-thesis of unhappiness. That is, it stands for happiness provided one first knows what unhappiness is, what causes it. It is often said by every generation: that doing good in today's time yields no rewards. By rewards if it is meant material rewards, appreciation of others, fame then doing good has, at best, weak correlation with these outcomes. But if by reward is meant peace of mind, a sense of self-conviction, lack of remorse and the answer to the question of what thought should I think before my last breath then a practice of virtue has everything to do with it.
Common-sense had only one all-encompassing philosophical question: should I act this way or that way? To that the answers of eminent philosophers of repute and ancient lineage is only this: that depends on where you wish to go? If you wish to go that way then act that way. If you wish to go this way, then act this way. But first decide. And that decision is the most critical decision that common-sense has to make.
So ultimately, common-sense has discerned that Krishna cannot be taken at face value. Taking him at face value may lead to destruction and killing of life. However, Krishna's defence is: he is just an adviser, a philosopher and a guide. It is not his duty to tell men whether they should turn this way or that way. He can lay out the options but it is for common-sense of each man to determine what is right for himself and herself.
In a court of justice, with Krishna on the side of the prosecution, the judge would be inclined to dismiss the case saying: Krishna is certainly a slippery character. To that extent the court sides with the defence. On the other hand, there is no incontrovertible evidence that makes the court force itself to convict Krishna. For to quote Krishna himself: he was just playing his role. Unfortunately, the defence was not playing its role too well. The court can only say: be more alert and more mindful of what the scriptures say. For those are just words and like any sets of words they are a double-edged sword. Those who hold the Gita/Bible/Quran in one hand and wield the sword in the other, to those we can say: your two hands are not in sync with each other. Case dismissed.
[Those who demand retributive justice would do well to remember, retribution and justice is a marriage sure to end in a divorce.]
But of course the case cannot be so easily dismissed. Common-sense is still in a dilemma. Philosophy, it realizes, is good only to a point. It should not be taken too seriously beyond a point. At the end of the day, each man's common-sense is left to fend for itself. All philosophy of course cannot beat a simple hummable dictum from Chuck Berry: Johnny B. Goode. But even here, common-sense has to exert itself: Chuck Berry probably meant Mr. Johnny B. Goode. Common-sense can make it mean: Johnny, Be Good. So, ultimately there is no substitute for active and conscientious thinking.
P.S.: Since we have anyway disturbed the calm and thoughtful repose of Adam Smith on more than a couple of occasions, it would not be out of line to knock at his door once more. And this time we will do it through the words of the man whose earlier words prompted this write-up: "... capitalism is a very peculiar term. The way the interests of the poor are consistently neglected --- if you call this capitalism, then I would object to this kind of system. In this sense, Smith was in many ways anti-capitalist. While he was in favour of private ownership of capital, he also thought that whenever rich men got together, they conspired to defraud the poor. He never used the word 'capitalism', but he was against the excessive power of capital; so am I; and in many ways, so was Karl Marx." extracted from Amartya Sen: National security is one component of human security, The Hindu, December 24, 2015.
It is not out of line to harbour a suspicion that history has played similar tricks with the words and message of Krishna. No man can really pry into and understand the soul and semantics of another. To claim to understand a philosopher (and a religious one at that) is a tall claim to make indeed, least of all by politicians. That is why the safest course of action always is to rely on one's own conscience. However, it seems that people are really fearful of prying into their own conscience but have all the expertise and no reservations carrying out the same act onto others' [conscience].
Equally, it is not out of line to entertain a somewhat irreverent thought. The thought in turn stems from another thought: the true test of any religion is the 'conquest of conceit'. By conceit it is really meant 'conceit' in its most physiological (and equivalent psychological) manifestation. This phenomenon is nothing but the very arising of the conception of 'I'. If we agree to the above test then it simply means that religious philosophy should lead to a training of the mind to quash the very arising of such a conception. One does not need to get metaphysical, philosophical or sociological about this. Looked at from this singular perspective, some quiet and detached reflection may cause a question to impinge on the mind of the serious student and devotee of Gita: Does Gita, while all the while proclaiming the law of Karma and Moksha as the highest good through conquering conceit, is also paving a parallel road that allows a surreptitious back-door entry to 'I'? Does moving focus from the 'I' to one's role through playing to the tune of 'Dharma' enable the 'I' to be cocooned in the form of a new 'identity group' (be it caste, clan, community, nation, human fraternity, or for those that aim higher, an all pervading omniscient spirit that is given a specific label')? For, in this case the 'conception of I' has remained still a conception in another form. However, this other conception may be deceptively surreal and give a highly elevated feeling (in case of lesser mortals this elevation may come from a sense of misplaced moral self-righteousness). It may just become a case of calling the rose by another name: in this case 'God'. For attachment to the notion of 'God' can carry significantly greater risks than a more pedestrian attachment to 'I'. Because the very conception of 'God' is so infinite that the nature of events that may logically arise from a perceived affront and consequent defense of this conception of 'God' may be equally infinitely widespread and harmful in measure.
For while common-sense is very much concerned with the question of this way or that way, religious philosophy (and if one maybe so blasphemous one may also suggest that all philosophy) has been forever trapped in figuring out the elements making up the linguistic trap of "I am". That is, all philosophy either comes down to explaining of, or stems from, the existence of the conception of 'I', the conception of 'being' and how the two conceptions are conjoined. This innocuous phrase (if it can be called a phrase) is the death-knell of all human suffering and existence. This is not an original thought. It is trying to imagine what notion would grip Umberto Eco were he to accidentally stumble upon the Buddha in one of the beautiful alleys of the great medieval cities of Italy. He of course would be able to give a more robust and cogent expression to this thought.
For non-philosophers, meanwhile, it suffices to focus attention on unravelling the meaning of the following categorical destruction of 'I':
"A person has six properties, six media of sensory contact, eighteen considerations, & four determinations. He has been stilled where the currents of construing do not flow. And when the currents of construing do not flow, he is said to be a sage at peace. One should not be negligent of discernment, should guard the truth, be devoted to relinquishment, and train only for calm." (excerpt from Dhatu-vibhanga Sutta: An Analysis of Properties translated from Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu, Access to Insight (Legacy Edition) accessible at http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.140.than.html.
P.P.S: From The living Mahabharata, Truschke, Audrey, ed. Haselby, Sam, Aeon Magazine, the anguish of Yudhishthira upon conclusion of the war:
Since we slaughtered our own, what good can possibly come from ruling?
Damn the ways of kings! Damn might makes right!
Damn the turmoil that brought us to this disaster!
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Initial draft proof-read and corrected with help from Bibhas Mondal. The errors, if any, may be on account of subsequent modifications and are all attributable to the writer.
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