Table of Content
Quotes and comments from this week’s readings
Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Sarga 45-56
Gitanjali, poems XXXIX - LXX
Next week’s readings
Quotes and comments from this week’s readings
Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Sarga 57-94
When Prince Laksmana had heard those angry and arrogant words of Atikaya in the midst of the battle, the exceedingly powerful and enormously majestic hero spoke these highly sensible words: ‘‘You cannot attain excellence by mere words; nor are true heroes produced by boasting. As long as I am standing here, armed with a bow, arrow in hand, you should demonstrate your prowess, evil-minded wretch!’’ (Sarga 59)
This quote is basically the Indian equivalent of the “hic Rhodus, hic salta” from Aesop’s fable. Clearly boasting is a human universal. And clearly making fun of people boasting also is. There is another example of the same idea in Sarga 75.
But Rama said this in reply to Laksmana of auspicious marks: ‘‘You must not slaughter all the raksasas of the earth on account of a single one. A foe who does not resist, is in hiding, cups his hands in supplication, approaches seeking refuge, is fleeing, or is caught off guard—you must not slay any of these.’’ (Sarga 67)
War is not without its laws, at least when done at the level of states. As L. Keeley showed in War Before Civilization, “it is extremely uncommon to find instances among nonstate groups of recognizing surrender or taking adult male prisoners.” (p. 83).
The Mae Enga tribesmen of highland New Guinea provide a typical example. When a Mae Enga warrior was seriously wounded by an arrow or a javelin, his adversaries would charge forward to chop him literally to pieces with their axes. (p. 84)
Surrender was not a practical option for adult tribesmen because survival after capture was unthinkable. (p.84)
A few cultures occasionally took men captive only to sacrifice them to their gods or torture them to death later. Among the Iroquoian tribes of the Northeast, captured warriors were often subject to preliminary torture during the return journey of a war party. (…) At a council, the warrior prisoners who survived these initial torments were distributed to families who had recently lost men in warfare. After these prisoners were ritually adopted and given the name of the family’s dead member, they were usually tortured to death over several days. (p. 84)
The Nuer of Sudan adopted boys captured from their enemies (the Dinka), and women of marriageable age and girls were incorporated less formally. On the other hand, old women and babies captured in Nuer raids were clubbed to death and their bodies burned with the Dinka huts. Dinka adult males were simply killed. (p. 85)
But State groups, both for moral, as the previous Ramayana quote shows, and practical reasons, you do not slay every enemy combatant. As Keeley explains :
In general, nonstate groups preserved the lives of captives only when some material benefit would accrue; this approach generally limited the persons spared to women and children. Stats, by contrast, often have a strong material interest in preserving the lives of defeated enemies - even adult males - because they can become tax - and tribute-paying subjects, serfs, or slaves. The life-preserving rituals of formal surrender and widespread official distaste for killing noncombatants are expressions of this interest. (p. 87)
The next quote needs a bit of context. Rama has just discovered that his wife, Sita, has been killed by the rakshasa. This, of course, is a trick by Ravana, and Sita is alive and well. But Rama is grief-stricken and unable to act anymore. In the 70th Sarga of the Yuddha Kanda, Laksmana, Rama’s brother, gives the speech I’ll be quoting, to shock him into action. It is a powerful argument against virtue and righteousness that would have made the sophists proud. Because the Ramayana as a whole is a book about what it means to be righteous, it should be noted that Laksmana’s speech is the only instance of an argument against dharma, against being righteous, not being rebuked.
Then Laksmana, deeply grieving himself, took the stricken Rama in his arms and addressed him in words that were both rational and meaningful:
‘‘Since the practice of righteousness has been unable to protect you, noble brother—you, who have always trodden the path of virtue and controlled your senses—from calamities, it is truly pointless. For since we cannot directly perceive the force of righteousness in the same way that we perceive moving and fixed objects, it is my opinion that it does not exist. This thing called ‘righteousness’ is not demonstrable in the same way that moving and fixed objects are. Otherwise, a person like you would not experience such suffering.
What Laksmana is saying here, is that there are no moral facts in the world. There are objects, atoms, apples, worms, human beings, etc., but “being righteous”, “following dharma” are not facts that can be perceived, and as such, they don’t exist. It may be wrong to kill another human being, but not because it contradicts any obvious facts of the world in the same way that saying “the cover of my kindle is blue” is wrong because it contradicts the fact that the cover of my kindle is actually black. If there are no moral facts in the world, then maybe Laksmana is correct in saying that acting morally is pointless. Some philosophers today are trying to defend a similar position called: Error-theory.
‘‘By the same token, if the force of unrighteousness were real, Ravana would go to hell, while you, sir, who are devoted to righteousness, would not thus suffer calamity. Since he has suffered no calamity, while you are immersed in one, can it be true that one obtains felicity through the practice of righteousness and that suffering arises from the practice of unrighteousness?
‘‘Now, if those people who were averse to unrighteousness would thereby experience the felicity arising from the practice of righteousness, that is, if those who conducted themselves righteously would experience happiness, then they would receive their just deserts. Therefore, since the fortunes of those among whom unrighteousness is practiced increase, while those who always practice righteousness suffer torments, these two concepts are meaningless.
Not only can no one perceive moral facts, but moral facts also don’t have any effect on the world. I know there is a computer in front of me because I can see it, but also because I can interact with it. I know there is a piece of chocolate near me because I can smell it, and I can grab it and eat it. If there were moral facts in the world, maybe I could not perceive them, but at least one should expect that they do something in the world. If killing is wrong, then we should expect that a killer be punished. But that doesn’t always happen, so much so that in facts some killers get rewarded.
‘‘And if, Raghava (another name for Rama), it were true that evildoers perish through the force of unrighteousness, then the force of righteousness would also be destroyed by the very act of destruction. Then, once it is destroyed, whom could it harm? Or if we are to understand that it is because of fate that a person is either killed by or kills another, then it is fate alone that would be tainted by that evil act and not the person himself.
‘‘Since the results of righteousness are imperceptible and it itself is unmanifest and, in fact, unreal, how, tormentor of your foes, would it be possible to attain the highest good by means of it? If there were really such a thing as the power of virtue, then you, foremost among the virtuous, would never have suffered any evil. But since such a calamity has befallen you, it must follow that the power of virtue does not exist.
I have absolutely no idea what to make of the first paragraph. Apparently, nobody does, which is kind of reassuring. So, instead of trying to offer an explanation, I’ll just quote from the accompanying note from the Goldman translation.
This verse, too, is obscure and textually problematic. Laksmana’s basic argument, as most of the commentators agree, is that dharma and, for that matter, adharma are transient and cease to have any effect almost instantaneously. They can therefore have no lasting effect in terms of future lives, etc. According to several of the commentators, acts of dharma, like other punctual actions, endure only for three instants (presumably of origination, operation, and cessation) and then cease to exist in the fourth. (Yuddha Kanda, translation by Goldman, p. 1173)
The second paragraph is the logical conclusion and restatement of the argument presented before. Laksmana offers two arguments against following dharma.
Righteousness cannot be perceived and it has no effect. As such, Rama cannot attain the highest good by being righteous because being righteous, following dharma doesn’t do anything.
If virtue, being righteous, following dharma, had the power to bring about the highest good then followers of dharma would not suffer evil. Rama has suffered evil (because at that point in the story, Sita is thought to be dead), so virtue has no power.
‘‘On the other hand, it may be that the force of righteousness is weak and impotent and is merely auxiliary to manly effort. And since it is weak and blurs all distinctions, it should, in my opinion, be ignored. And if the force of righteousness is merely auxiliary to manly effort when it comes to effective action, then you should abandon it and devote yourself to manly effort, just as you now do to righteousness.
Laksman then offers two possible objections to his argument.
Maybe, being righteous has no effect because the force of morality is weak. So it’s not that it has no effect, but that in certain contexts these effects won’t be perceived.
Maybe the force of being righteous comes from it always being accompanied by forceful actions. Hence a righteous person always attains the highest good, not because he is righteous, but because he acts in a way that will allow him to attain that good.
His answers to these two objections are pretty obvious. If dharma is weak, then there’s no need to follow it. If something other than dharma brings about the highest good, then one should follow that other thing and not dharma.
‘‘Or should it be argued that righteousness consists, as they say, in speaking the truth, scorcher of your foes, then why is it that you would not imprison our father, who acted both untruthfully and cruelly toward you?
This is a clear reference to something that happened earlier in the story. Dasaratha, the king of Ayodhya, Rama and Laksmana’s father, exiled Rama despite him being the heir to the throne. This is perceived by everyone, Dasaratha included, as something unrighteous. But why is Laksman talking about this at this point in his argument is far from clear. I cannot make heads or tails of what exactly he is trying to achieve by bringing this up.
‘‘Moreover, scorcher of your foes, if either righteousness or human effort were to be practiced exclusively, then the wielder of the vajra, Indra of the hundred sacrifices, would not first have slain a sage and then performed a sacrifice. When either human effort or righteousness is practiced exclusively, it destroys a person, Raghava. Therefore, Kakutstha (another name for Rama), a man should act as he pleases in all such matters.
Before trying to make sense of what Laksmana is saying here, a note on translation to better understand the quote. What Goldman translates as “righteousness” is “dharma” and “human effort” is his translation for “adharma” which means, literally, “unrighteousness.”
From what we have seen so far, we could infer that Laksmana, by arguing against dharma, against being righteous, is arguing for adharma, for acting unrighteously. But this is not what he is doing. To him, because dharma doesn’t exist, it follows that adharma doesn’t really exist also and that it has no real effect on the world. His argument is that trying to only act according to dharmic values or adharmic values, will only destroy a person. In order to act appropriately, one has to combine both types of actions. One should only act according to what one feels is needed to achieve one’s goals without any real consideration for whether said action is dharmic or adharmic.
‘‘Such is righteousness according to my way of thinking, Raghava, my poor brother. Besides, when you relinquished the kingship, you cut off righteousness at its root. For all righteous actions flow from wealth that is drawn and amassed from different sources, just as rivers flow from the mountains. But when a man is stripped of his wealth and so becomes powerless, all his righteous actions cease to flow like rivulets in the hot season. And such a man who has been raised to enjoy pleasures will come to crave them. If he should lose his wealth, he will resort to evil deeds. In this way dire consequences will ensue. A rich man has friends. A rich man has kinsmen. A rich man is an important person in this world. A rich man is considered learned. A rich man is powerful. A rich man is wise. A rich man is highly fortunate. A rich man is endowed with the finest qualities.
In Indian thought, the three main goals of human existence are dharma (virtue), artha (wealth, power) and kama (pleasure). Most of Hindu philosophy seems to place dharma on top of the other two. Following dharma allows to have and enjoy artha and kama. The final art of Laksmana’s speech is to show that it’s actually having artha that allows one to enjoy both dharma and kama.
The argument offered is pretty simple. Without artha, a man is nothing, and can only resort to acting in evil ways. With artha, a man has everything. Contrary to dharma which cannot be perceived and has no effect, artha can be seen and has effects. The logical conclusion of that argument is thus is that dharma actually flows from artha. So, instead of trying to act in a dharmic way, Rama should follow the way of artha : be powerful and avenge Sita, for that is the only way to be virtuous.
‘‘I have thus laid out for you the disadvantages inherent in relinquishing wealth. I cannot imagine, heroic brother, what led you to such a decision when you abandoned your kingship. A rich man gains righteousness, pleasure, and profit—everything is propitious for him. But a poor man, though he may desire wealth and seek it, can never acquire it. Joy, desire, pride, righteousness, anger, tranquility, and self-restraint: all of these proceed from wealth, lord of men.
‘‘Those who wander about practicing righteousness lose everything of value in this world. Those things of value are no more to be seen in you than are the heavenly bodies on stormy days. For, hero, it was when you were living in exile, adhering to your father’s word, that the raksasa stole away your wife, dearer to you than life itself.
‘‘But this very day, with feats of valor, hero, I shall dispel the great suffering wrought by Indrajit. Therefore, arise Raghava! For I have arisen to aid you, sinless brother. In my rage at learning of the murder of Janaka’s daughter (that is, Sita), I shall, with my arrows, completely level Lanka, along with its horses, elephants, and chariots, as well as the lord of the raksasas himself.’’ (Sarga 70)
So, to sum up the argument. Being righteous is not in any way advantageous. It has no effect on the world. It cannot be perceived. Acting powerfully on the other hand has effects on the world, it can be perceived, and the consequences of acting powerfully are good. Laksmana’s argument is pretty clear: Rama should act powerfully, and avenge Sita’s murder.
And thus ensued an immensely fearsome and tumultuous clash in battle between those two lions—man and raksasa—each eager to kill the other. For both were endowed with might, both were valorous, both were extremely heroic, and both were skilled in every weapon and divine weapon-spell. Both were supremely invincible and unequaled in their power and blazing energy. The two great heroes clashed like two planets in the heavens. For then the two great warriors, as unassailable as Bala and Vrtra, fought like a pair of lions. Discharging many torrents of arrows, the two lions—man and raksasa—continued fighting in great excitement. Like two great storm clouds, the two champions—man and raksasa—bows and arrows in hand and both eager for victory, inundated each other in high excitement with torrents and hails of arrows. (Sarga 75)
This fight, between Rama and Ravana, is their last. One of them will die. It is the culmination of the poem. These are not merely men and demons fighting, by primeval forces, planets in the heavens, clashing. It reminded me of a poem by Victor Hugo my dad used to tell me when I was younger. It comes from La Légende des Siècles (The Legende of the Centuries). The poem appears to not have been translated, so I attempted one.
Ils se battent — combat terrible ! — corps à corps.
Voilà déjà longtemps que leurs chevaux sont morts ;
Ils sont là seuls tous deux dans une île du Rhône,
Le fleuve à grand bruit roule un flot rapide et jaune,
Le vent trempe en sifflant les brins d’herbe dans l’eau.
L’archange saint Michel attaquant Apollo
Ne ferait pas un choc plus étrange et plus sombre ;
Déjà, bien avant l’aube, ils combattaient dans l’ombre.
Qui, cette nuit, eût vu s’habiller ces barons,
Avant que la visière eût dérobé leurs fronts,
Eût vu deux pages blonds, roses comme des filles.
Hier, c’étaient deux enfants riant à leurs familles,
Beaux, charmants ; — aujourd’hui, sur ce fatal terrain,
C’est le duel effrayant de deux spectres d’airain,
Deux fantômes auxquels le démon prête une âme,
Deux masques dont les trous laissent voir de la flamme.
Ils luttent, noirs, muets, furieux, acharnés.
Les bateliers pensifs qui les ont amenés,
Ont raison d’avoir peur et de fuir dans la plaine,
Et d’oser, de bien loin, les épier à peine,
Car de ces deux enfants, qu’on regarde en tremblant,
L’un s’appelle Olivier et l’autre a nom Roland.
They’re fighting - frightening struggle - hand to hand.
Their horses have been dead for so long;
There, both alone on an island in the Rhône,
With great noise, the river rolls a fast and yellow stream,
Blades of grass are soaked in the water by the whistling wind
Saint Michael attacking Apollo
Would not make a stranger and darker clash;
Long before dawn already, they were fighting in the shadows.
Who, this night, would have seen these barons being dressed,
Before their foreheads, disappeared under their helmet
Would have seen two blond pages, pink as girls.
Yesterday, they were two children laughing at their families,
Beautiful, charming; - today, on this fatal ground,
It is the frightening duel of two brass specters,
Two ghosts to whom the devil lends a soul,
Two masks whose holes let flames be seen.
They struggle, black, mute, furious, relentless.
The pensive boatmen who brought them,
Were right to be afraid and to flee to the plain,
And to dare, from afar, spy on them,
For of these two children, whom one looks at while trembling,
One is called Olivier and the other is called Roland.
Gitanjali, poems LXXI - CIII
This last part of the Gitanjali was a joy to read. Maybe I was just in a different mood, but the overall themes of the poems seemed deeper, and the writing better.
I won’t be quoting full poems but sentences from different poems. As I did last time, I’ll quote from two different translations. (Unless one translation is clearly superior to the other.)
I won’t comment and let them stand as they are.
Deliverance is not for me in renunciation. I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight. Poem LXXIII (translation Tagore)
Freedom through disengagement—that is not
My way. I’ll taste it rather in countless chains
Of ecstatic delight. Poem 62 (Translation Radice)
Yes, all my illusions will burn into illumination of joy, and all my desires ripen into fruits of love. Poem LXXIII (translation Tagore)
Deluded perhaps I am, but freedom throngs
Forth from the world-consuming fire of my rapture.
Freedom, for me, only becomes complete
When passion and devotion’s fruit meet. Poem 62 (Translation Radice)
From the words of the poet men take what meanings pleases them; yet their last meaning points to thee. Poem LXXV (translation Tagore)
The songs
Of a poet speak to others in whatever
Way makes sense to them; but something belongs,
Finally, only to you: a last word
That runs to your arms and only by you is heard Poem 65 (Translation Radice)
It is the pang of separation that spreads throughout the world and gives birth to shapes innumerable in the infinite sky. Poem LXXXIII (translation Tagore)
Even so, in death the same unknown will appear as ever known to me. And because I love this life, I know I shall love death as well. Poem XCV (Translation Tagore)
When Death dawns, the unknowable will once more
Be known—you’ll recognize his face. Surely
If I have loved this life so very much
I’ll love Death too when I can see him clearly? Poem 70 (Translation Radice)
The last poem I will quote in full, because I find it beautiful. It fits perfectly with what I set out to do when I started this whole project. I wish for the authors I meet along the way to guide me through the countries of pleasure and pains. And I wonder where my journey will end.
Ever in my life have I sought thee with my songs. It was they who led me from door to door and with them have I felt about me, searching and touching all my world.
It was my songs that taught me all the lessons I ever learnt, they showed me secret paths, they brought to my ken many a star in my heart’s horizon. They guided me all the day long to the mysteries of the country of pleasure and pain, and, at last, to what palace gate have they brought me in the evening at the end of my journey?
Poem CI (translation Tagore)
I’ve sought you beyond my mind
In song
My whole life long.My songs have taken me
From place to place
In time and space.I’ve tried in the world with the stroke
Of my hand in my songs to feel
And heal.They’ve taught me so much,
Shown me such secret ways—
Picked out in the sky of my heart so many stars.When my journey through this mystery—
Through many strange lands of weal and woe—
Ends, into what mansion at evening will I go?Poem 30 (Translation Radice)
Next week’s readings :
Tagore is gone, replaced by Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. This is our own way of saying that attempts at censuring Russian culture in the wake of the Ukrainian invasion are absurd. We’ll be reading p. 1 to 33, of the Penguin Classic translation by Pevear and Volokhonsky.
Proust is back on the menu with Vol. 5 of In Search of Lost Time: The Prisoner. We’ll be reading p. 1609-1646 (ed. Quarto Gallimard) and for the English translation, we’re saying goodbye to William Carter (because he hasn’t translated vol. 5 for now) and hello to Penguin Classics Deluxe translation by C. Clark, p. 1-49.
Valmiki’s Ramayana, Yuddha Kanda, Sarga 95-116