JIABS 28-2

JIABS Journal of the International

Association of Buddhist Studies

Volume 28 Number 2 2005

Anne M. BLACKBURN Introduction ............. ..... ........................... ........... .............................. 235

Thomas A. BORCHERT Training Monk or Men: Theraviida Monastic Education, Subc

nationalism and the National Sangha of China .............................. 241

Georges DREYFUS Where do Commentarial Schools come from? Reflections on the History of Tibetan Scholasticism .. .................. ........... ............ .......... 273

Justin Thomas McDANIEL The Art of Reading and Teaching Dhammapadas: Reform, Texts, Contexts in Thai Buddhist History .. ....... .............. ............. ........ ...... 299

Jeffrey SAMUEL Texts Memorized, Texts Peiformed: A Reconsideration of the Role of Paritta in Sri Lankan Monastic Education ................................. 339

W. Blythe MILLER The Vagrant Poet and the Reluctant Scholar: A Study of the Balance of Iconoclasm and Civility in the Biographical Accounts of two Founders of the 'Brug pa bka' brgyud Lineages ....... ...................... 369

Dan ARNOLD Materials for a Miidhyamika Critique of Foundationalism: An Annotated Translation of Prasannapadii 55.11 to 75.13 ................ 411

John Strong Relics of the Buddha by Richard Salomon................... 469

Report on theXIVth Conference of the International Association of Buddhist Studies by Tom J.F. Tillemans, General Secretary lABS 473

IABS Treasurer Financial Report by Jerome Ducor ....................... 477

Announcement of the XVth Conference of the IABS ..................... 479

Notes on Contributors ...................................................................... 481

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© Copyright 2005 by the International Association of Buddhist Studies, Inc.

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EDITORIAL BOARD

SCHERRER-SCHAUB Cristina A. TILLEMANS Tom J.P.

Editors-in-Chiej

BUSWELL Robert

JinhuaCHEN

COLLINS Steven

COX Collet

GOMEZ Luis O.

HARRISON Paul

VON HINDBER Oskar

JACKSON Roger

JAINI Padmanabh S.

KA TSURA Shoryu

KuoLi-ying

LOPEZ, Jr. Donald S.

MACDONALD Alexander SEYFORT RUEGG David

SHARF Robert

STEINKELLNER Ernst

ZURCHER Erik

INTRODUCTIOW

ANNE M. BLACKBURN, ITHACA, NEW YORK

The following essays by Thomas Borchert, Georges Dreyfus, Justin McDaniel, and Jeffrey Samuels are among the signs of a growing interest in education among scholars of Buddhism. In addition to detailed accounts of historical and contemporary educational practices in Tibetan, Sri Lankan, Yunnanese, and Thai-Lao contexts, these articles provide a powerful point of departure from which to think more broadly and comparatively about approaches to the study of Buddhist education. Thomas Borchert's essay examines the first Buddhist Studies Institute (joxueyuan) formed in Sipsongpanna in 1994, after the Chinese government altered its stance toward religious education (and the training of religious specialists) in the 1980s. This Institute is a formal educational center for the training of young Theravadin monks in a geographical area at the intersection (historically, and in the present day) of the cultures we now know as Chinese, Thai, Lao and Burmese. Borchert's essay discusses Chinese governmental involvement in Buddhist education during the last two decades, with special attention to the government's approach to Buddhist education in minority communities. Against this background, Borchert describes the curriculum - and some of the educational practices connected to it - used at the foxueyuan opened at Wat Pa Jie. He attends also to informal educational settings, such as sermons and work periods, in which monastic students participate.

Borchert is explicitly concerned to explore the processes through which 'identity' is formed in education and, especially, the relationships between Chinese, Dai-Iue, and Buddhist identities as understood by students and teachers in Sipsongpanna. In doing so, Borchert examines the subjects set

1 I would like to thank T. Borchert, G. Dreyfus, I. McDaniel, and I. Samuels for their invitation to compose this introduction. I am also grateful to the anonymous reviewer of an earlier version of this short essay, whose comments proved very helpful.

Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies Volume 28 • Number 2 • 2005

236 ANNE M. BLACKBURN .

out within the Institute's cuniculum as well as the ways in which actual pedagogical practices blur the lines between subject areas, and provide contexts for the articulation of more than one form of identity. For instance, classes in Mandarin sometimes include Dai-Iue cultural information, while the alphabet book foundational to dhamma instruction may shape students' attachment to Dai-Iue language. According to Borchert, fieldwork at Wat Pa Jie in the early 1990s revealed a 'sub-nationalist' Dailue cultural identity, co-existent with Sipsongpanna Theravadin. monks' self-identification as Chinese, and their engagement with educational materials produced in Theravadin Southeast Asia.

Georges Dreyfus discusses the educational methods and topics privileged within contemporary Ge-Iuk and non-Ge-Iuk educational settings. In contemporary educational practices, pedagogical methods differ across these settings. Debate is stressed by Ge-Iuk institutions, while commentary is the central method for those connected to Nyingma, Kagyu, and Sagya traditions. Despite this difference, Dreyfus argues that the topical focus of education remains similar. Although tantra study is undertaken at different points in the educational cycle, and in different institutional settings, tantra is always engaged as supplemental to exoteric materials. Moreover, common roots in Indian intellectual practices have led the Tibetan traditions to share a preference for siistra over sidra in monastic education.

Dreyfus proceeds to develop a history of the difference between debate and commentarial methods found in Ge-Iuk and non-Ge-Iuk educational institutions. He argues that the contemporary identification of Ge-luk training with debate and Nyingma, Sakya and Kagyu training with commentary is of fairly recent origin. According to Dreyfus, non-Ge-Iuk monastic and scholastic educational institutions distinctively oriented by commentarial training are rooted in the non-sectarian movement of the 19th-century. This movement was, itself, a response to the ascendance of Ge-Iuk patrons and institutions from the 15th century onward. The gradual crystallization of Ge-Iuk forms of pedagogy, and growing Ge-Iuk authority, triggered a response within non-Ge-Iuk circles. Tibetan Buddhists involved with the non-sectarian movement sought the authority provided by monastic educational establishments and their own distinctive pedagogy.

INTRODUCTION 237

Justin McDaniel develops a comparative study of the modes through which the Dhammapada was transmitted (orally, and in a variety of textual forms) and received in the areas we call Thailand and Laos prior to the Fourth and Fifth Reigns of the 19th century, and in the 20th century. Using evidence of Dhammapada transmission and reception as an extended example, McDaniel argues that scholars of Thai/Lao Buddhism have overstated the impact of print technologies and centralizing educational reforms originating in Bangkok. In doing so, McDaniel calls into question common understandings of the 'westernizing' and 'modernizing' trajectory of Siameseffhai-Lao Buddhism since the 19th century. McDaniel does not deny the considerable emphasis on standardization and centralization characteristic of elite Bangkok approaches to education from the Fourth Reign onwards. However, he questions the degree to which such moves affected the ways in which a majority of lay and monastic Buddhists encounter(ed) Buddhist texts.

McDaniel frames his detailed account of the varied uses and manifestations of the Dhammapada in contemporary Thailand as an extended argument for the study of reading practices. According to McDaniel, if we focus solely on educational institutions and ideologies, we may fail to see what people (lay and monastic) really learn, how they learn it, and how it is transmitted. This essay argues that the activities of reading, listening, and sermon-giving found in contemporary Thailand bear a considerable resemblance to practices of exegesis and homiletics found in Thai-Lao regions prior to the 19th century. Such practices may be seen as a bridge between pre-modem and modem forms.

In an essay drawing on recent Sri Lankan fieldwork, Jeffrey Samuels explores the role of ritual practice, and especially paritta training and performance, in the formation of monastic comportment and identity. Samuels locates his work in relation to discussions of the role of text-based education in the cultivation of monastic discipline and conduct. He argues for the importance of ritual performance, and the observation of it, to the processes through which young monks develop specifically monastic behaviors and mental states. According to Samuels, young monks are disciplined through paritta performance, and they learn to be monks in part by learning how to provide what their lay donors require of them. Samuels suggests the value of looking more closely at the ways in which specific

238 . ANNE M. BLACKBURN

Buddhist texts are used in instruction outside the classroorri and, especially, in contexts of performance.

Samuels' discussion of par itt a performance and monastic education develops through close attention to statements made by monastic teachers and students. In doing so, Samuels attends particularly to the terms used by junior and senior monks to describe acts of learning and performance. These remarks reveal the centrality of vision - of seeing and being seen - to the ways in which these monks describe the process of becoming accustomed to the distinctive public exhibition of discipline expected of them. Such expectations about monastic conduct are, according to Samuels' informants, shaped by understandings of the relationship between emotional states and merit-making. The observation and performance of paritta teaches young monks about the mental and physical conduct required of them in order to render efficacious lay acts of meritmaking.

The richness and analytical range of the essays collected here should teach us a great deal about how to approach further study of Buddhist education, in varied regions and periods. One seemingly natural point of departure for the study of Buddhist education, as the essays by Borchert and Dreyfus remind us, is the examination of curricula. Which subjects are taught at what levels to whom, through which texts, and in which languages? A close look at curricula will often show the rather limited presence of tipitaka and aUhakathii texts in Buddhist education and the importance of a wide range of compendia ranging from medieval treatises to contemporary textbooks. It will also begin to suggest ways in which 'non-Buddhist' subjects co-exist with those more obviously connected to the dhamma, its language, and authorized styles of interpretation.

Looking for, and at, curricula also provides one way to gain an understanding of the terms in which knowledge and skill are organized in a particular context. This, in tum, if examined within a wider framework, may also give some indication of the extent to which desirable monastic knowledge in a given time and place is local knowledge, distinct in some fashion from a broader, embracing, school, lineage, or tradition. An examination of a curriculum, however, raises further questions. For instance, whose terms and categories are to be used to describe and analyze the curriculum? What is accomplished by using emic, or etic taxonomies in such

INTRODUCTION 239

accounts? The terms in which elements of a curriculum are designated, as well as the temporal and textual weight attributed to each element, are themselves evidence of educational emphases and the terms within which knowledge and skill are organized. Reading such evidence carefully arguably requires that one not move too quickly to offer a description of a curriculum in terms external to it, whether those terms be taken from tradition-internal understandings of canon and commentary or from more distant frames of reference.

Gaining an understanding of the structure and terms of curricula, however, provides only partial access to the character of teaching and learning in specific contexts. The ethnographic evidence adduced by Borchert, McDaniel, and Samuels underscores the need to examine specific educational practices of instruction and reception if one seeks to understand the ways in which educational activities help to constitute what I call 'visions of collective belonging', as well as attitudes to particular texts and rituals. Moreover, all three of these essays explore the intersection between what we might call, for analytical convenience here, informal and formal educational practices. Informal learning is that which occurs outside clearly defined teacher-student-classroom contexts and examinations, involving activities such as attendance at sermons, independent reading, performance of rituals, and other institutional work. This includes the 'action-oriented pedagogy' described by Samuels2, as well as many of the acts of textual reception described by McDaniel in this volume, and the monastic participation in sports and labor noted here by Borchert. The study of student formation thus involves looking at activities within, and outside of, the classroom with particular attention to the ways in which formal and informal learning relate to one another, and to the specific texts and activities that mediate units from a curriculum.

The study of Buddhist education, of course, need not focus? on the ways in which individuals are formed with respect to specific bodies of knowledge and visions of collective belonging. McDaniel suggests the utility of distinguishing between the study of institutions, ideologies, and reading practices in the study of Buddhist education. That is, quite apart

2 "Towards an Action-Oriented Pedagogy," Journal of the American Academy of Religion, (2004), 72:4:955-972.

240 ANNE M. BLACKBURN

from the study of the transmission and reception of texts,' one may attend to the history of educational institutions and their structure, as well as the discourses that grant them authority, may also draw upon concepts related to learning and education for a variety of purposes. In the essay by Dreyfus we find helpful indications of how one might pursue the study of educational institutions, as well as the place of reflections on desirable knowledge and pedagogy in ideologies linked to institutions, lineages, and traditions. Dreyfus' essay reminds us of the value of biographies and lineage histories to institutional studies of Buddhist education. He is, moreover, particularly concerned to explore the relationship between the development of Buddhist institutions, the crystallization of distinctive pedagogies, and instances of competition for authority and prestige. Dreyfus has draws our attention to the ways in which the study of Buddhist education may involve the study of representations of educational practice and desirable learning that are drawn into broader social relationships of competition and definition. In this sense, educational practices may offer symbolic capital. Particular pedagogies or curricula - or, even, just a reasonably consistent discourse about them - may come to serve as a 'signature line' or an 'iconic practice' for specific communities and institutions. In such cases, recovering such patterns of reference may help to clarify histories of Buddhist institutional formation well beyond the specific sphere of education.

Readers will, undoubtedly, find still more of interest in these essays, which should prompt further attention to the place of teaching and learning in the constitution of visions of collective belonging, obligation, and motivation. Moreover, these essays signal the tremendous potential for ethnographies of educational practice in contemporary Buddhist communities, as well as for histories of education and educational institutions that make careful use of our growing archive of local Buddhist texts and genres.

TRAINING MONKS OR MEN: THERA V ADA MONASTIC EDUCATION, SUB NATIONALISM

AND THE NATIONAL SANGHA OF CHINN

THOMAS A. BORCHERT

It would seem self-evident that the purpose of monastic education is to produce monks, or at the very least to produce good Buddhists. Boys and men, girls and women study usually with monks and nuns as teachers, learning dhamma. By watching and studying, they learn what it means to be a monk or nun, what someone who has left home must know. Even if the monastic path is ultimately not for them, what they learn is of use to them as Buddhists, ritually and ethically. And to the degree to which monasteries in general and monastic schools, of whatever form, remain separated from the rest of society, this might conceivably the case. However, I take it as axiomatic that monasteries, monastic schools and systems of monastic education are not and cannot be separate from society, and the larger concerns of the communities that build these institutions. In addition, I would suggest that in many, if not all, formal monastic schools, ordained students learn far more than simply how to chant or meditate, study Buddhist history or philosophy. If this is the case, then perhaps the agenda of monastic education is not necessarily as self-evident as it would appear, and that we need to inquire more directly into the purpose(s) of monastic education. What are monastic institutions training their students to be?

1 This paper is based on fieldwork conducted between March 2001 and June 2002, principally in the Dai People's Autonomous Region of Sipsongpanna in Yunnan Province in the PRC. Earlier versions of this paper were presented at the conference of the International Association of Buddhist Studies Conference in Bangkok, December 2002 and at the annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion in San Antonio, November 2004. I would like to thank Justin McDaniel, Jeff Samuels, Anne Blackburn and Tracy Johnson for their comments on earlier versions of this paper, and of course the monks and novices of Sipsongpanna who graciously allowed me to ask them many nosy questions for fifteen months.


242 THOMAS A. BORCHERT

I would like to bring this question to a consideration of monastic education in post-Mao China. In the late twentieth century, Buddhism more broadly, but monastic education in particular has seen a real efflorescence throughout mainland China, including the minority regions of China where Tibetan Buddhism2 and Theravada Buddhism are practiced. While the first post-Cultural Revolution "Buddhist Institute" lfoxueyuan) was opened at Fayuan Si3, outside of Beijmg in 1980, since thenfoxueyuan have opened up throughout the country, though particularly on.the East Coast of China (Chen and Deng 2000; Zhu 2003).

Raoul Birnbaum has discussed these schools in terms of the pedagogical ambitions of Taixu, the early twentieth century reformer of Chinese Buddhism. According to Birnbaum, Taixu sought to found a system of modem Buddhist Institutes that would train Chinese men to be both monks and modem men. Although Taixu's envisioned system would maintain the traditional practice of "life-long texts study by participation in extended lecture series presented by famous masters," (Birnbaum 2003: 133; Welch 1968: 110-114), the contemporary foxueyuan of the People's Republic of China (PRC) are more akin to the public colleges and universities of the rest of country. Their three or four year courses require those hoping to matriculate to take an entrance exam. Moreover, for many of these schools, the student-nuns, -monks or -novices are required to have completed their high school education4• Indeed, while most of the study at these foxueyuan is focused on Buddhist matters,

2 Regardless of the legitimacy of Chinese rule in Tibet, the fact remains that Tibet is under the political control of the Chinese government. Moreover, the Chinese government sees it as a minority region, and has constituted the parts of Tibet formerly under the control of the Dalai Lama's government as an "autonomous region." Thus, the Sangha is subject to the force of the Chinese government. While this may be a deplorable situation in many ways, it strikes me that the principled decision to not discuss Tibetan Buddhism as part of the religions in China today, as was done in a recent volume on religions in China by China Quarterly (Overmeyer 2003), to be highly problematic.

3 The Buddhist Institute at Fayuan Si was actually reopened in 1980. It was first established in 1956 and closed down in the mid-1960s, after approximately 100 students had finished the undergraduate program there, and another handful had completed postgraduate degrees. See Long 2002: 190.

4 While graduation from high school is required for matriculation at the more competitive of these Buddhist Institutes, many of these schools have less stringent requirements. Long 2002: 194-5.

TRAINING MONKS OF MEN 243

roughly a third of the pedagogical efforts are spent on non-Buddhist subjects (Long 2002; Borchert 2003a).

Despite the fact that two-thirds of the pedagogical time at these foxueyuan is spent on acquiring Buddhist knowledge and skills, we might imagine that other agendas also drive the pedagogical actions of the schools. Darui Long in his study of several different schools in Sichuan has noted that according to their charters the aim of these schools is to "train Buddhist nuns who love the country, and support the Party leadership and socialist cause" (Long 2002: 192). Another school's charter was slightly more expansive, saying that its purpose was "to train Buddhists who are patriots and faithful to Buddhism so that they become knowledgeable and able persons for the development of Buddhism." However, it goes on to say that:

Students should support the leadership of the Communist Party of China. They should be patriotic and faithful, with good virtues and abilities. They should observe state laws. They are trained to be managers of the monasteries and researchers for Buddhism. (Long 2002: 1999)

Lest we think that this type of statement is limited to China's interior, a set of regulations from a foxueyuan of Shanghai has a similar pointed focus. In the first rule out of more than one hundred and thirty, the document states that students should "Fervently love the socialist motherland, support the leadership of the Communist Party, defend the unity of the Nationalities, and support the unification of the motherland."5

We can read these statements in the broader context of religion in China. In the early 1980s, the Party's official post-Mao statement on religion was set forth in a still relevant document entitled, "The Basic Viewpoint and Policies on Religious Issues During Our Country's Socialist Period." This document repudiates the active effort on the part of CCP officials to eliminate religion from the People's Republic of China, especially as practiced during the Cultural Revolution and its aftermath. Instead, it argues that religion will disappear eventually and naturally

5 Reai shehui zhuyi zuguo, yonghu zhongguo gongchangdang lingdao, weihu minzu tuanjie, yonghu zuguo tongyi. I received this set of regulations at Wat Pajie, in Sipsongpanna, shortly before a group of graduates from Wat Pajie traveled to Shanghai in order to study for a year at one of the Buddhist Institutes there. I was told that it was sent from Shanghai in order to inform the students what was expected of them.


with the proper development of socialism and cornmunism6• There is also a grudging recognition that the morality and works of "normal religion" (such as the preservation of historic temples and relics, reforestation and the academic study of religion) are beneficial to society (Document 19: 16). Most interesting in this context, however, are the statements about education and the need to train new religious leaders. Given the possible benefits normal religions offer to society, Document 19 suggests that the government should pay attention to religious actors, particularly the leaders, and to "umelentingly yet patiently forward their education in patriotism, upholding the law, supporting socialism, and upholding national and ethnic unity" (Document 19: 16). It later notes the importance of training "patriotic religious personnel," and that the govermnent should help set up seminaries to train them. Document 19 goes on to say that the "task of these seminaries is to create a contingent of young religious personnel who, in terms of politics, fervently love their homeland and support the Party's leadership and the socialist system and who possess sufficient religious knowledge"(Document 19: 20).

The order of these two goals is not accidental. While the Chinese govermnent (in this document) recognizes as legitimate the interests of (what it views as "normal"7) religious communities in having adequately trained religious leaders, it is most interested in directing the actions and beliefs of these leaders in specific directions. Pitman Potter, in a recent article on politics and religion in China has suggested that the Chinese Communist Party's official policy on religion in China needs to be understood in light of an agenda in which political loyalty to the Party-State is given in exchange for a greater degree of autonomy in certain social spheres.

6 "Document 19: The Basic Viewpoint and Policy on the Religious Question during Our Country's Socialist Period." Translated by Janice Wickeri and printed in MacInnis (1989), 10. Citations will be made in the text to "Document 19."

7 In general, this means those religions that have a relatively long-standing history on the Chinese mainland. Thus, the government recognizes Buddhism, Taoism, Islam, Catholicism and Protestantism as the legitimate religions of China. Legitimate religions, in the eyes of the Party-State, have five characteristics: a long history, a mass base, national and international aspects and complexity (Document 19: 5). Although there have been some important shifts in the category of religions and its others ("superstition" and "evil cults") since Document 19 was first published in 1982 (notably in the late 1990s as a response to the challenge raised by the Falun Gong), Document 19 still retains relevance for understanding the "religion problem" in China in the early twenty-first century. See Borchert 2004.

~GMONKSOFMEN 245

There is a tension within the sphere of religious practice, however, due to the potential threat posed by religious beliefs. There is a fear, Potter argues, that loyalty to the religion will supercede loyalty to the state, and so, there remains a strong "discourse of control" regarding religion in contemporary China, despite recent suggestions about liberalization (Potter 2003: 18). Fenggang Yang and Dedong Wei have also recently suggested that since the mid-1990s, there has been a hardening of the official position, such that religious actors have much less leeway to act outside the official Party position (Yang and Wei 2005).

These statements change the possible range of interpretations that we might attribute to the stated purposes of the Buddhist Institutes. The stated educational aims of the Mahayana Buddhist Institutes of China are clearly political in that they seek to create monks and nuns who are patriotic and law-abiding citizens. These monks and nuns will in tum become the abbots of local temples and the leaders of local Sanghas. Nevertheless, the way the language of the charters echoes the official language of Document 19 is interesting. Most of the charter documents that I have seen are unsigned, or are attributed to a committee with input at least from the Religious Affairs Bureau and the local Buddhist Association (BA). In other words, they are documents produced by government agencies. To the degree that they are written by monks, we must ask if the political allegiance that is expressed is anything more than a politically savvy throat clearing. That is to say, if these temples do not state that they support the leadership of the CCP in this manner, they will get in trouble. Put differently, Buddhists (and other religious actors) know that paying appropriate respect to the leadership of the Party is an important way to avoid being hassled by the Chinese state.

Yet just because a Sangha's stated goals may reflect those of the state for political expediency, this does not mean that we should assume that these statements are only political expediency, or that there might not be other political agendas which fit with the religious agendas. Monks might very well, and legitimately, believe in the importance of educating monks who are also patriotic. Alternatively they may want to produce students who have other agendas and wish to hide it from the state under the guise of patriotism. In other words, we should not presume that these charters allow us to know what a certain monk or nun believes regarding the rela-


tionship between religion and politics, or the role that a'Sangha should play in the constructing the Chinese nation. Monks can be nationalist, and this can spill into their Buddhism, or not. However, I would suggest that reading the charters cited above from the Mahayana Buddhist Institutes alongside Document 19 alerts us to the fact that these foxueyuan are constructed within an environment that is rife with political concerns. In other words, while these charters direct us to look beyond the simply religious to discern the agendas of monastic communities, they do not reveal whether or not there are other agendas behind a project of monastic education.

This is equally the case with the monastic education of minority communities in China. The schools discussed above are affiliated with Mahayana Sanghas of the Han majority of China, but China also has Tibetan and Theravada Sanghas, and for these other Sanghas, the development, or redevelopment, of monastic education after the Maoist period has been even more complicated. The degree to which these minority communities see themselves as belonging to China, and the degree to which the Chinese state and the Chinese people see the minority Sanghas as Chinese raises an entirely different set of concerns. This is most well-known in the case of Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism, where many (but not all) Tibetans view the Chinese as being illegitimate invaders. The Chinese state is equally suspicious of the Tibetan Sangha, particularly in the Tibetan Autonomous Region (Schwartz 1994). This has meant that towing the party line in such a way that it is recognized by the Chinese state is often difficult and efforts to reestablish monastic education have met with considerable difficulties8• Although there are some reports of success in opening institutions for monastic education outside of the Tibetan Autonomous Region (in so-called "ethnic Tibet"), such as in the Labrang monastery in Gansu and at Sarthar in Sichuan (Germano 1998; Eckholm 1999), the crackdown on the latter in 2001 (Faison 2001) shows the situation is still quite volatile.

8 Melvyn Goldstein details some of the efforts to reestablish the traditional monastic education at Drepung Monastery outside of Lhasa in "The Revival of Monastic Life in Drepung Monastery," in Goldstein and Kapstein, eds., Buddhism in Contemporary Tibet (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1998).


When we look at the Theravada Buddhist monks of Sipsongpanna in Yunnan Province, we see something akin to what we saw among the Mahiiyana schools of the rest of China. Each village temple in Sipsongpanna has a poster of regulations provided to it by the local Buddhist Association. This poster, usually hung in a semi-public place, states in the first rule that:

Monks and novices must adhere to the precepts and ideals of the Buddhist virtues, carry forward and develop Buddhist Dharnma, perpetuate a life with Buddhist wisdom; respect the discipline, defend the law, love the country and love the religion (italics added).

Noting that the Buddhist Association of Sipsongpanna (the authors of the rules, even if by committee) is staffed completely by Dai-lue monks, this would seem to indicate that they are largely in sympathy with the charters noted above. Is this the case? Do these minority monks in fact view their goal and purpose to encourage their fellow monks and novices to love China even as they are living a Buddhist life?

In the last decade, the Theravada monks of Sipsongpanna, have opened up their ownfoxueyuan, with the blessing of and a modicum of funding from the local government. In this paper, I want to examine this particular foxueyuan, this "Buddhist Institute," and its educational agendas in relation to its position as a minority - both ethnic and religious - within the Chinese political landscape. I would suggest that the point of the charters and Document 19 within the Mahayanafoxueyuan discussed above has been to focus the political aspects of religious training in a particular direction, to produce religious specialists who are lovers of the nation. Do these same processes work within the monastic schools of a minority community? Moreover, this allows us to begin to ask how we can tell when training monks and novices is not actually about - or principally about - making proper Buddhist leaders? To what degree is monastic education about making monks? And, in the end result, what is it that novices are being trained to be?

Theraviida Buddhism in China

Although historically China is closely associated with East Asian Mahiiyana Buddhism, at least since the founding of the People's Repub-


lic in 1949, both Tibetan Buddhist and Theravada Sanglias have come under the purview of the Chinese state. In contrast to the situation of Tibetan Buddhism in China,the situation of the Theravada Sanghas is not well-known. There are in fact two Theravada Sanghas in China; both located in border regions of the southwestern province of Yunnan. Both of these Sanghas are populated by Tai minorities of China: the Dai-neua of the Dehong Daizu-lingpo Autonomous Prefecture (Dehong Daizulingpo Zizhizhou) and the Dai-lue of Sipsongpanna (Xishuangbanna Daizu Zizhizhou)9. Viewed by Chinese governments as being part of a single ethnic group, the Daizu, in point of fact, the Dai-Iue and Dai-neua had minimal contact with one another prior to the middle of the twentieth century (Giersch 1998; Hsieh 1995). Indeed, it is only in the last twenty years or so that by processes of what Dru Gladney has called "ethnogenesis" the Dai-Iue and the Dai-neua have come to see themselves as belonging to a single ethnic group (Gladney 1991; Hsieh 1995)10. Nevertheless, outside academics have generally viewed these groups as linked. Chinese ethnographies about the Dai people dutifully contain a section on the "Xi-Dai" and the "De-Dai," and while Thai discussions of the Tais of China are far more likely to discuss Sipsongpanna (which is often seen as some sort of older sibling of the Thais), there are some which talk about the Dai of Dehong as wellll .

9 A brief comment about names and languages is in order. The people that I am discussing here are referred to by the Chinese state as the Dai-zu, the Dai people. Most of the time, these people refer to themselves as "Dai" or occasionally "Lue." "Dai" in this contexts links these people to other Tai groups of Southeast Asia, as well as to other Tai groups in China; "Lue" distinguishes them as a particular subset of the Tai. I refer to them her as "Dai-lue" because it helps keep in focus the fact that these people have important relationships with both China and other Tai groups of Southeast Asia. I refer to their home by the Dai-Iue name, Sipsongpanna, and not the Chinese name, Xishuangbanna.

10 Tan Leshan, a Chinese anthropologist, has told me that it was only in the late 1990s that his Dai-Iue informants in Sipsongpanna began to ask him about Dehong and the Dai people who live there. Personal communication, Kunming, China, August 2001.

11 For Chinese examples, see Zhao and Wu 1997 or Wang 2001. Note that Thai texts are more likely to discuss Dali, a city to the West of Kunming in Yunnan Province, because it was the capital of the Nanzhao Kingdom. It was common at least into the mid-l 990s for Thai scholars to refer to the N anzhao Kingdom as a possible birthplace of the Thai peoples, although the historical evidence seems to be against this view. See Princess Galyani 1986 or Sarisakon and Sucit 1991. For a discussion of Chinese and Thai academic representations of the Dai-Iue and Sipsongpanna more broadly, see Borchert 2003b.

~GMONKSOFMEN

People's Republic of China

249

While I will only discus the monastic educational practices of Sipsongpanna in this paper, it is important to understand that for many centuries both of these regions have been in extensive contact with Han Chinese settlers and governments (whether imperial, republican or communist), other ethnic groups of the regions, as well as other Tai communities of Southeast Asia (even if not with one another). Natchli Laohasrinadh has commented that Sipsongpanna was referred to as a nit song fay-fa, a "state under two skies." Similarly, several Dai-lue informants noted to me that historically, haw bin paw, mon bin mae: "China is the father and Burma is the mother" of Sipsongpanna. I take from this that although we might tell a story of the twentieth century as one in which the borders of this region become clearer and harder as the "geo-body" is formed (Thongchai 1994) nonetheless, even now they remain quite

250 THO~SA.BORCHERT

porous. In other words, a reasonable discussion into the'background of the Dai-lue and Sipsongpanna in the twentieth century must necessarily be a back and forth between cOntact with China and with the Tai communities of Southeast Asia.

Although Sipsongpanna is part of China, and has been since the 1896 Anglo-French treaty that divided the middle Mekong region between France, Britain, Thailand and China, it is on China's southern edge. Situated in Yunnan Province's deep south, it borders the modem nationstates of Myanmar and Laos. The Mekong River, which provides the border between Laos and Myanmar, flows through Sipsongpanna into Southeast Asia. Prior to the 1953 occupation of Sipsongpanna by the People's Liberation Army, it was a semi-independent kingdom, sandwiched between the Chinese and Burmese empires. Occasionally overrun by armies from the south and the north, it was able to maintain a high degree of independence through its remoteness and savvy politicking with its more powerful neighbors. The region was an important stop on trade routes between China and Southeast Asia (Natchii 1998: 21; Hill 1998), but the paths passing through the mountainous region of Southwest China precluded speed or large numbers of troops. Even in the 1950s, Chinese ethnologists engaged in the ethnic classification project of the Chinese state (minzu shibie) required more than a month to get from Yunnan's capital, Kunming, to Sipsongpanna's capital, Jing Hong. This distance, little over 400 km, is now handled in about forty-fifty minutes by fifteen to twenty daily flights between Jing Hong and Kunmingo

The dominant people of Sipsongpanna, the Dai-lue, were (and are) Thbraviida Buddhist and the kingdom was similar to other minor states of the middle Mekong region, such as Chiang Mai, Luang Prabang and Chiang Tung of the Shan States. The social system and political structures were highly stratified, with a traditional king, the Lord of the Earth (cao phaendin), and a state council composed of related "aristocrats" (Tan 1995). Although the cao phaendin, whose palace was constructed on a mountain outside of modern day, Jing Hong, is said to have been the sole possessor of all the land in Sipsongpanna (Natchii 1998), the region would be more properly understood as something of a federation. The cao of the various meuang of Sipsongpanna were largely independent figures who,


while they owed. fealty to the eao phaendin, also had their own agendas and bases of power. This meant that the Dai-Iue and the eao phaendin did not always present a unified face in their dealings with the Chinese (Giersch 1998). At the same time, while Theravada Buddhism was certainly important within the social system, it would be a mistake to think of it as having quite the same importance in terms of the rule of the region as it is said to have had farther south. Most Dai-Iue men of Sipsongpanna ordained for at least a period (it is said to have been necessary in order to get married), but Theravada Buddhism seems not to have played the same role in the control of the eao phaendin's state as it did in Ayuthaya for example (Natcha 1998). Indeed, Ann Maxwell Hill suggests that Sipsongpanna was not only smaller than the galactic polities to the south, but also that the the local territorial spirit cults were of far greater importance in the control of the local polity than the Buddhist-Brahmanical ideological ritual complex that undergirds the "galactic polities" of Burma and Thailand (Tambiah 1976; Hill 1998 : 147). Another way to say this might be to suggest that while Theravada Buddhism was central to Dai-Iue society, it was not in any wayan established religion.

This social structure dynamic began to change in the mid-1950s, when the consequences of China's 1953 invasion of Sipsongpanna began to be felt (McCarthy2001; Hsieh 1989). Most dramatically, over the course of the first fifteen years of the PRC's colonization of Sipsongpanna, the Dailue social hierarchy was legally abolished. A number of Dai-Iue aristocrats were co-opted into the Communist Party and the local government, which significantly eased the transition into the Chinese national body. The region underwent a variety of different periods of land reform (McCarthy 2001), and starting in the mid-1960s, the monasteries were closed and Buddhism was abolished. Monks were either forced to disrobe or fled to Southeast Asia. While Dai-Iue were permitted to practice Buddhism again starting in the late 1970s (a practice which became widespread several years later), a generation of monks was lost, and the cost to local knowledge and knowledge practices (non-Buddhist as well as Buddhist) is literally unknowable.

Less dramatic in the short term than these changes to the social structure, but equally important was the inclusion of the Dai-Iue into the Chinese national imagination as members of the Daizu. This process began

252 . THOMAS A. BORCHERT

in the late 1950s, when Han Chinese ethnologists came to Jing Hong from Kunming to categorize the groups of people in Sipsongpanna. This grand ethnic classification project recognized fifty-four shaoshu minzu, ethnic minorities, as part of the Chinese nationl2. Yunnan was and is a province rich in ethnicities, having twenty-four; Sipsongpanna is itself the home to fourteen different nationalities. The Chinese ethnologists were to classify different groups onto an evolutionary scale ultimately deriving from the work of Henry Louis Morgan and using Stalinist criteria to distinguish groups of people!3. Despite efforts towards scientific rigor, the classification of ethnic groups often relied just as much on folk classifications and the remnants of Imperial Chinese classifications. According to these criterion, the Dai-lue of Sipsongpanna were categorized as "feudal-manorialist" (jengjian nongnu zhidu) and lumped together with several other Tai groups of Yunnan (notably the Dai-neua of Dehong discussed above), despite having little knowledge of or interaction with these other groups.

Like the other shaoshu minzu of China, the Dai-lue have been subject to the developmentalist projects of the Communist Chinese state ever sincel4. Like religion, this ethnic identity in China is something that is supposed to wither away with the increased modernity of a given group of

12 China is actually now a "multi-ethnic state" with 56 different nationalities: a 55th

minority group was recognized in the late 1970s. There are a number of other groups who have applied for recognition as shaoshu minzu, in part because it makes them eligible for certain privileges (such as having a second child). While at least some of these applications are still in process, I have been told by academics in China that it is unlikely that other groups will achieve the status of independent ethnic minority (as opposed to being recognized as a branch of an already existing minority group). The western academic literature on China's minorities is vast and growing. For useful introductions, see Blum 2002 and Harre1l1995a. Schein 2000 and Gladney 1991 have extensive discussions of the CCP's ethnic classification (minzu shibie) project.

13 These criteria were: a common language, a common territory, a common economic life and a common psychological make-up manifested in common specific features of national culture (Gladney 1991: 66). Harrell (1995b: 98, 103) helpfully points out that these criterion were presumed to be objective and comparable. That is to say that what makes a minzu in one place is the same as what makes a minzu in another place. This is important because it enables the "objective" ranking of minzu on evolutionary scales, and establishes criterion for paternalistic policies.

14 Or in Stevan Harrell's felicitous phrase, the "civilizing projects" of the Chinese state (Harrell 1995a).


people. Thus although Chinese policies have fluctuated over the last fifty years, they have generally been directed towards modernizing minority groupS such as the Dai-Iue, bringing them closer to the developed standards of Han/Chinese modernity_ As James Ferguson (1990) has argued with regard to states and development in Southern Africa, these developmentalist policies have generally resulted in greater bureaucratic intrusion into the lives of local peoples and cultures. Educational projects, and in particular the effort to produce minority citizens who speak: Mandarin Chinese, have a central role in these civilizing projects, as is evident from the citations above from Document 19 (see also Hansen 1999). These projects have at best been benignly paternalistic, though many have also been accompanied by the often-violent voluntarism of the Communist Period's "high red" periods (such as the Cultural Revolution). This is not to say that all of these projects have been resisted by all shaoshu minzu. To the contrary, while the civilizing projects of the Chinese state (educational and otherwise) should be understood in terms of "symbolic violence" discussed by Bourdieu and Passeron (1978), the responses to them have been diverse and have often changed across time and space. Not surprisingly, questions of the breakdown of traditional culture and assimilation pervade western scholarship on China's minorities in particular. However, I would suggest that more productive ways of articulating the relationship of China's minorities to its majority can be found in a dialogicaVcultural studies model, articulated well by Dru Gladney:

Ethnic identity in China .. .is not merely the result of state defInition, and .. .it cannot be reduced to circumstantial maneuvering for utilitarian goals by certain groups. Rather, I propose that it is best understood as a dialogical interaction of shared traditions of descent with sociopolitical contexts, constantly negotiated in each political-economic setting (Gladney 1998: 109).

Among the Dai-Iue of Sipsongpanna, this dialogue and negotiation has played out in important ways in the realm of education. Prior to 1953, the education of most boys took place in village temples, in what we might think of as an "apprentice" mode of pedagogy (Blackburn 2001: 45). Here Dai-Iue boys, all ordained novices, generally gained knowledge and skills necessary to be considered full Dai-Iue adults. In addition to the allimportant Dai-Iue script, and the basics of Buddhism (both in terms of

254 THONU\SA.BORCHERT

knowledge and ritual matters)15, some of them also achi~ved knowledge which was less strictly Buddhist (medicine and astrology, e.g.)16. Indeed, while it was not necessary for all men to learn these things, it was necessary for all boys to become "cooked" in the temple for some time. That this is the case has long been a thorn in the side of the PRe's government in Sipsongpanna. While under the ideology of "autonomy" for shaoshu minzu the government has acknowledged the legitimacy of traditional knowledge, local Board of Education officials in particular have often complained that the traditional education in temples has obstructed Dai-Iue boys' efforts in the Chinese public schools. This in tum has meant that these boys have remained (at least in the eyes of the cadres) unable to fully participate in Chinese modernity (Hansen 1999).

Not surprisingly, from the perspective of many Dai-Iue people, the situation with regard to Chinese public education is not quite so straightforward in at least two different ways. First, public education is supposed to be mandatory through junior middle school (grade 9). There are significant barriers to many of the Dai-Iue students fulfilling this responsibility, however. While many boys do finish elementary school, they must pass entrance exams to enter middle school (both junior and senior middle school). For many of the students these tests are prohibitively difficult, not least because of the inadequate level of the elementary education. In addition to this, while it is public and compulsory through grade nine, Chinese education is not free. Students must pay tuition and a variety of other fees. Thus, even for those who do manage to pass the exams, middle school can be prohibitively expensive. The second complication is the attitude of parents towards these schools. Mette Hansen reports that a number of the parents she interviewed in the mid-1990s about public education were quite ambivalent about its utility. The majority of Dai-Iue families are still peasants, and most boys (even now) will be peasants

15 What they leamed was probably largely similar to what Tambiah describes in Northeast Thailand (Tambiah 1970: 121).

16 This does not mean that all knowledge passed through the wat (temple). Women were (and for the most part still are) excluded from the literate text and temple based knowledge practices, but they possess(ed) their owu knowledge practices, among which were both medical and religious knowledge. The religious'life of women in Sipsongpanna remains a woefully unexamined topic,


when they become adults. For these parents, the value of a traditional education in village temples was clearer than the public school alternative (Hansen 1999: 112-113). Both of these factors, I would suggest have conspired to make monastic education remain relevant in Sipsongpanna.

Thus for reasons of the persistence of tradition - the Dai-Iue are after all by the definitions of the Chinese state believers in Theravada Buddhism - and the dynamics of the Chinese-Dai-Iue relationship, monastic education in village temples has persisted. A glance at the demographics of the Sangha over the last fifty years makes it clear that ordination (and thus monastic education) remains an important aspect of Dailue society, even if it is not quite as important as it was prior to the Cultural Revoluation. fu the 1950s, the Sangha had a population of roughly 6500 (900+ monks and 5500+ novices), out of a population of perhaps 105,000. These numbers were basically zero in 1965. Starting with the "religion fever" in the early 1980s (Hansen 1995: 109), the Sangha population had essentially recovered by the early 1990s when there were about 550 monks (one per temple) and 4500 novices. These numbers have slowly crept up over the last ten years. The most recent numbers that were reported to me (Spring 2002) were that there were about 650 monks and over 6500 novices. At the same time, however, the overall Dai-lue population is currently reported at about 300,000.17

This rebirth of the Sangha though has had some unforeseen consequences for the continuity of monastic education. The novices of the postMao generation are principally trained by the abbots of their temples, as has always been the case (though often these abbots are scarcely older than the novices they train). Yet abbots are not the only teachers in wats: his-

17 For population figures, see Tan 1995: 193 and McCarthy 2001: 172-3. Both of these scholars supply official Chinese statistics. I would raise the possibility, however, that in the 1950s, the time of the first Chinese census in the region, Chinese penetration into the region was not sufficient to get an adequate count of either the monastic population or the larger Dai-lue population. This does not mean that the general trend is wrong, just that it is necessary to take the severity of this shift with a grain of salt. There are also no numbers kept as to what percentage of the Dai-Iue male popUlation ordains for some period during their lives. These remain problems to be studied. Also, we need to be cognizant of the fact that the monastic population constantly fluctuates, due to the practice of temporary ordination. This does not mean that there is no stability to the numbers that I reported, but this is why I have given round figures. By the time the Sipsongpanna BA reports the number of novices for a given year, the fignre is already inaccurate.

256 THOND\SA.BORCHERT

torically novices have also been trained by other monks (or, more commonly, older novices) and especially the khanan, former monks who are among the most important men in the village (religiously at least). Yet as mentioned above the Sangha has lost the generation of older monks and khanan who were the principle carriers of knowledge and important trainers of the younger generation. In the beginning of this crisis during the 1980s and early 1990s, many temples were staffed by monks invited up from Southeast Asia. These were mainly from Lue areas of either the Shan States or of Thailand), and a large number of novices and monks have traveled particularly to Northern Thailand for further education. Nonetheless, these could only be stopgap measures for two reasons. The fIrst is that while the Chinese state has generally been supportive of monks traveling from Southeast Asia to act in this capacity, they are highly suspicious of foreign influence within religion (Document 19: 16). Thus the official position is that these visiting monks must register with the Public Security Bureau and Religious Affairs Bureau, and that they may only stay for a relatively short period of time. Generally, this has meant between one and four years. Occasionally, the local government has caused foreign monks to return to Southeast Asia. As for traveling to Southeast Asia for an education, the opportunities are limited by both the resources of the local Sanghas and the willingness of the Southeast Asian states (and in particular Thailand) to support these novices. Thus, the senior monks and laity of the Sangha of Sipsongpanna decided that they needed their ownfoxueyuan.

This Buddhist Institute was opened in 1994 at Wat Pajie, a temple destroyed just prior to the Cultural Revolution and rebuilt in 1990, initially with money from the Chinese government. Wat Pajie is in many ways the ideal place to open afoxueyuan in Sipsongpanna. Although surrounded by villages, unlike the other more than five hundred temples in Sipsongpanna, Wat Pajie is not connected to any single village. It is instead the central temple of the region, from the perspective the Dai-Iue people, but also from the perspective of the Chinese government. The local offices of the Buddhist Association are at Wat Pajie, and the abbot of the temple has two different titles: he is both the head of the Sangha, the sangha-nayok, and the head of the Buddhist Association (fojiao xiehui zhang). This temple, which was reestablished at the request of local vil-


lagers and monks (Davis 2003; cf. Thepprawin 1998), had been a royal temple, though not the home temple of the cao phaendin himself. However, since its reestablishment and the opening of the school in 1994, it has become a center of gravity for Buddhism in Sipsongpanna. Waf Pajie has not only attracted a large collection of monks 1 8, many of whom have received advanced Buddhist training in Thailand or the Shan states, it has also attracted the support of foreign Sanghas and Buddhist foundations. Patronage from the royal family and Sangharaja of Thailand enabled the construction of a Thai style ordination hall (1998); Japanese and Singapore foundations provided money for the temple to buy land and both local Han businessmen and wealthy Mahayana Sanghas on China's east coast enabled the construction of a massive new kuti (residence hall) for the abbot (2001).

Monastic Education at Wat Pajie

As should be clear, Buddhism in Sipsongpanna, and in particular monastic education must be understood in light of dialogical relationships with both the Chinese state and the Sanghas of Southeast Asia. This is indexed by the fact that the sign in front of the school at Wat Pajie is written in three languages, Chinese, the traditional Dai-lue script and Thai. While most of the financial resources that have gone into reconstructing Wat Pajie have come from Buddhists, the Chinese state is a key actor here, because the monks and lay leaders affiliated with Wat Pajie needed official permission simply to open the school. The senior members of the Sangha wanted to open a full school that would be different from the training which takes place in village temples. However, as should be clear from Document 19, the Chinese government is not really interested in producing rivals to its authority, so it took over four years of applications and assurances before these Dai-lue were able to open afoxueyuan at Wat pajie. Significantly, permission was contingent upon the school teaching Chinese to their students at thefoxueyuan (Hansen 1999: 115).

18 During the course of my fieldwork, there were usually between ten and fifteen monks in residence.


Despite these concerns with the Chinese government, it is probably more accurate to think of this foxueyuan as a hong heyn pa pariyatti tham, a dhamma school, using the monastic schools of Thailand as a model. It is more limited than the Thai schools, both shorter in duration, but also in the scope of its program. Instead of six years, it is only three, and it only trains students in dhamma-seuksii (the Buddhism course) and in a handful of secular subjects (discussed beloW). There is, for example no Pali instruction, though there have been recent efforts to add. it to the school's curriculum. Nonetheless, the nak-tham curriculum (i.e., the Buddhist subjects) largely hails from Thailand and uses textbooks that have been translated either from Thai or imported from the Shan States. Moreover there are a series of exams at the end of each fall, based on exams from the monastic secondary schools of Northern Thailand, which test the student-novices in the Buddhist curriculum. While the school teaches non-Buddhist classes, in the eyes of the Chinese state, it is the nak-tham curriculum that is primary. Thus it is that the governmental office which oversees the school at Wat Pajie is not the Board of Education, but the Minority Religions Office.

Up until this point, the school has generally been successful, although it has also struggled financially. Each cohort of novices has consisted of one class of students. This class has consisted of some 30-50 students at the beginning of the first year, and over the course of the three years, the number shrinks to 20-30 students. The attrition is mainly due to failure in the dhamma exams, though a handful of students in each class decide that they are simply not interested in studying at Wat pajie. The number of cohorts present has varied. While the school is equipped to handle up to three classes, when I conducted fieldwork in 2001-2002, there was only one class. I was told that the monks had limited the size of the school not for lack of interest, but for lack of resources to pay for all of the students. As of this writing perhaps seven cohorts have finished the program at Wat pajie. One of the reasons for the temple's financial struggles is that the fees for receiving an education at Wat Piijie's Buddhist Institute is quite low. A novice's family pays the temple 600 yuan for the three-year course (by comparison, public junior high schools might cost 600 a semester. This fee only covers tuition, and does not include the various extra fees that rural Chinese schools are forced to charge in order


to remain open) .. This fee is largely a nominal one, since it barely pays for educational supplies over the course of three years. For this fee, the students received two meals a day19, books, and instruction, as well as occasional cash to catch a bus home. Not too surprisingly, the salaries of the teachers (only some of whom were monks) were minimal20•

During my fieldwork, the class studying at Wat Pajie was nak tham tf,

first year dhamma students. These student-novices ranged in age from thirteen to twenty-two, though the majority of them were between the ages of sixteen and nineteen. The educational background of the studentnovices in this class divided relatively evenly into thirds: about a third had finished lower middle school, a third had graduated from elementary school and a third had only finished third or fourth grade. Their reasons for leaving the Chinese schools were various, ranging from financial to religious; a handful left because they had conflicts with their Han teachers. All of the student-novices were fluent in spoken Chinese, even if not fully literate, and when I taught them English, Chinese was the medium of instruction. Most were from peasant families, all but two were still novices and all but four were Dai-Iue.

This raises an interesting point about the relationship of Buddhism and Dai-lue identity. In the history of the school at Wat Pajie, there have been a handful of non-Dai-Iue students. Some are Bulangzu, another Theravada minority group of Sipsongpanna historically viewed as servants (kha) by the Dai-Iue. In the group that I taught and researched, there were no Bulang students, but there were four novices from Dehong. They were thus Tai, and Daizu, but Dai-neua instead of Dai-Iue. While we might read these "others within" as disrupting the relationships between Dai-Iue identity and Buddhism, stressing its universality, I would suggest instead that these boys are for the most part not treated differently than the oth-

19 An evening meal was also provided, but it was generally not referred to as such. This meal was usually a snack of noodles and was not treated by either the monks or novices as a real meal (monks generally did not partake of this snack). When the dinner bell rang around six p.m., I would ask the novices if they were going to eat dinner, and they would respond, "No, we're just going to have noodles."

20 During the course of my research, I taught English to the student novices on a regular basis. In exchange for this, the monks taught me Dai-Iue and it also gave me a legitimate reason (in the eyes of the local Public Security Bureau) to be at the temple on a daily basis.

260 THOlVIAS A. BORCHERT

ers, that in fact their difference is erased in needing to speak Dai-Iue just as much as it is in the uniform of the shaved heads and saffron robes. Nonetheless, the presencebf these non-Dai-Iue student-novices points to a still deeply understudied aspect of the contemporary Sangha in mainland Southeast Asia: the dynamics of ethnicity and religion with regard to those who are already in the robes. There is an ideology of equality or universal respect towards those in robes, but it remains to be seen if this is actually the case21 •

Curricula and Educational Projects at Wat Piljie

In order to understand more clearly the educational projects at Wat Pajie, I want to examine what it is that the students actually study over the course of their time at the school. The student-novices at Wat Pajie have two or three two-hour class periods a day for most of the year. The pedagogical methodologies of the classroom are straightforward and of the "read-lecture-regurgitate" variety. The curriculum of the school can be divided into three components which are generally studied simultaneously: Buddhist studies, Chinese or perhaps secular subjects, and Dai-lue cultural studies, each of which I will discuss below. Although I will concentrate on the formal curriculum of the school, I will also briefly discus the informal training that takes place outside of the classroom (what Jeff Samuels (2004) has helpfully called "action-oriented pedagogy").

21 In the 1970s and 1980s, work was published on the use of the Sangha in matters of "national integration" in Thailand, particularly among the "hill tribes" (see, e.g., Keyes 1971; Tambiah 1976; Somboon 1993. This work however addresses this question solely from the perspective of the state, and does not interrogate how non-Thais understand these efforts or their experience as minority members of the Sangha. While teaching English at a monastic school in Chiang Mai in 1994, I met a young Burmese man who had recently disrobed. He told me that he had come to Chiang Mai for an education. Once he had disrobed, he said, he had been persecuted because he was not Thai, and that while no one had actively been disrespectful to him when he was a monk, they had also not treated him as an insider either. Obviously, this one man's experience should not be generalized without reason. Nevertheless, it does suggest the possibility that social hierarchies and cleavages from the outside world continue to be present within the Sangha, and that further inquiry into the relationship of nationality and ethnicity for those in robes is needed. For an inquiry into the persistence of caste-based relations in the Sri Lankan Sangha, see Samuels 2006.


Buddhist Training

Buddhist training at Wat Pajie consists of three classes studied over six months for three years. In these classes the student-novices study Dhamma, Vinaya and the life of the Buddha. The information that the temple wants the novices to learn is straightforward and fairly basic. From the exams that these students took during my fieldwork, we get a pretty good sample of what is deemed important. In the life of the Buddha, the students were asked questions on the names of the Buddha's grandparents, the names of the Buddha's frrst disciples and the person who donated the wihiin (worship hall) at Veluvana. Questions on the Vinaya exam asked students about the requirements to prepare for ordination, or the categories of particular types of offenses. For the Dhamma exam, they were asked about the marks of a good and bad person, some of the characteristics of a Buddha's psychology, and how many types of anger there are. The textbooks used are in the traditional script of the Dai-lue language and either come from Takhilek in the Shan States or have been translated from textbooks used in the monastic high schools of Thailand. In either case, these texts provide a distillation of materials; the students do not read texts in the original Pali for study. Rather, the point of this training is for them to acquire general Buddhist knowledge; it is not to train the students to be ritual specialists.

The students take a fourth exam, which they call supphiisit. Supphiisit are various aphorisms, usually said to be the words of the Buddha, and the exam itself is an exegesis of some of these. The student-novices generally do not practice this exegesis in a formal classroom setting. Instead several Sunday evenings a month, after the evening service, they practice giving short sermons based on these aphorisms in the wihiin (during my fieldwork, this was usually done under the guidance of one of the younger monks who had a good reputation for speaking). Occasionally, I observed the monk-teacher taking time in a Dhamma class to practice the exegesis of supphiisit. This was done in the form of writing essays, however, not sermons, and these essays were graded for grammar as well as content.

There is also a less formal (though no less important) pedagogy at Wat Pajie that should be discussed alongside the more formal Buddhist cur-


riculum. It takes place outside of the classroom, generally in the wihiin or in doing the labor of the temple. In the wihiin, the students come twice a day (at 6 AM and 6 PM) and pay their respect to the Buddha, chant an evening service and sit in meditation for ten to twenty minutes. In the evening, they are often lectured to by one of the senior monks on the way they are acting, behavior they need to correct, or matters they need to think about. These are not dhamma talks per se, because the monks are not actually discussing the dhamma directly, just how the student-novices should act. In addition to this twice-daily worship of the Buddha, the novices provide most of the unskilled labor for the temple: cutting the grass, cleaning the buildings, building and taking down stages for festivals and of course the all important sweeping. This labor.takes place daily, but it is also effectively used as a punishment (for example, when students miss the morning worship on account of oversleeping). Both the students and the head teacher told me that there was no direct pedagogical meaning to the labor the novices did. Nevertheless, the novices learn a great deal in doing this labor: not only do they gain an understanding of how an appropriate temple looks, but they also learn what kind of responsibilities a monk or novice is required to undertake.

Two notable absences to the training of the student-novices at Wat Piljie during my research were PilIi and significant training in meditation.

Chinese/Secular Training

The second major curriculum of the students is a series of classes in secular subjects. First and foremost, the students study Chinese. As I noted above, teaching Chinese was a condition for permission to open the Buddhist Institute in the first place, but none of the teachers or students that I worked with viewed this as an impediment to other studies. To the contrary, most of the student-novices were pleased to have the opportunity. Unlike the Buddhism classes, the student-novices study Mandarin Chinese year-round and there is no formal exam required for promotion to the next grade, though of course they took unit tests. The textbook used during my fieldwork was one produced by the Yunnan Provincial Board of Education for adult learners of Chinese as a second language, and it was not particularly well-liked by the monks. However, the texts


had been donated, and so the school used them. In addition to Chinese, the students study Thai (though for only a few months), and a year of math as wel122. They study English whenever there is a researcher (such as myself) or a tourist present and willing to teach, though this is not something for which they actively plan. Finally, they also learn word-processing in Chinese, Thai and Dai-Iue, on the temple's I-Macs and old Macintosh computers23. All the training in this curriculum was in the classroom, and the monks were quite explicit that the point was to give the novices the skills they would need to be competitive within China. Or perhaps to give them the skills that the Sangha would need to survive within China.

Dai-Iue Cultural Studies

What I am calling the Dai-lue cultural studies component of the curriculum of Wat Pajie is actually quite diffuse. With one minor exception24, there are no classes specifically directed towards Dai-lue culture, but rather all of the classes (with the exception of my ESL class) are suffused with aspects of Dai-Iue culture. It begins with the Buddhist curricula. At the beginning of the first year, the students spend several weeks

22 Hansen (1999: 115) reports that there were plans to teach the students geography as well. However, to the best of my knowledge, this has not been taught at Wat Piijie. Moreover, the students' geographical knowledge is quite poor; or perhaps more accurately, their geographical knowledge is guaged to their needs and not modem/map oriented geography. Once in English class, I was teaching and had a map of Yunnan on the board. The students could not tell me (in English or Chinese) where Thailand was in relation to Yunnan. Nonetheless, some of them could tell me how to get to Thailand.

23 These computers were donated from Thailand, as there are very few Macintosh computers in China. The temple uses them because a font of the traditional Dai-Iue script was developed for Macs; the only font available on Windows-based machines is a simplified version developed at the Yunnan Nationalities Institute. However because it is the simplified and not traditional script, the monks have no interest in using it. For some of the politics of the use of scripts in Sipsongpanna, see Hansen 1995.

24 The exception is Dai-Iue history. Hansen (1999: 114) reports that the school planned to teach history, but in point of fact that has not happened. This is not because of a lack of interest. Both the students and the monks would like for the novices to study Dai-Iue history. Indeed at a follow up visit in December 2002, I saw that the class schedules had been revised to allow for the possibility of Dai-Iue history. However, the novices told me that they had yet to begin to study it. The monks have told me that the real problem is that they lack a usable textbook.


studying a Dai-lue alphabet book, Baep Heyn Akkhara; published by the temple from the template of a similar book from Meng Y ong in the Shan States25• The students of course are all novices and on average have been so for at least four or five years before they arrive at Wat Pajie. All of them have already mastered the Dai-Iue alphabet. However, the Buddhism class teachers use this little book to standardize the pronunciation of the students. At Wat Pajie, the monks told me they do not use the book for its content, they just chant it. However, it is worth our paying attention to the contents of this book26• Very briefly, many of the lessons in this book clearly state one of six points: 1) Studying and acquiring knowledge is good; 2) It is good for moral development; 3) More importantly, it is good for the Dai-Iue people; 4) The survival of the Dai-Iue people and culture is at risk; 5) To defend them, it is necessary to defend the language and the religion (i.e., Buddhism); and finally 6) Buddhism is necessary for the survival of the Dai-Iue people. In other words, this little alphabet book is very much a pro-Dai nationalist book, and even if this is not spelled out to the students, they understand much of what it says. It is not irrelevant that this is what starts their education at Wat pajie.

There are some other ways that "Dai-Iue cultural studies" infuses the pedagogy of the school. The Buddhism class is almost always referred to as daiyu ke or gam dai - Dai-Ianguage class, not Buddhism class. The Dai-Iue teacher of the Chinese class would regularly insert tidbits of Dailue culture into his Chinese class. He told me he did this because he knew the students were interested and they were not getting the information in other ways. Ironically, much of his information came from a Chinese language textbook he had studied in college27• A third infusion of dai-Iue cul-

25 The title of this book means "the book to study letters." This is the sarne book I used to learn Dai-Iue.

26 There are two comments to be made regarding this text First, it is used in many places beyond Wat pajie. While not all village temples use it, I encountered it in temples throughout the autonomous region being used to instruct novices in the Dai-Iue script. Much of the time this alphabet book is used solely as a copy manual. However, and this is the second point, the language used in the book is for the most part straightforward, everyday language (there are some words in Pili, as well as more obscure words). Thus, even if monks do not directly teach the meaning of the text, many students are able to understand it anyway.

27 In one class, he provided the Chinese names of the 44 generations of the 'cao phaendin. In another class, he gave a short lecture on the history of the Dai-Iue new year, Song kiin pi mai (Ch. poshui jie, or "water splashing festival").


ture has come in the form of physical education. The abbot of the temple feels strongly that.it is important for the novices to get exercise, and so he has had them build a small basketball court and a soccer field. In addition to this, the monks came up with the idea to institute a Dai-lue martial arts class, . so that every afternoon, while half the novices perform labor in the temple, and the other half study traditional Dai-Iue martial arts. The monk told me they did this so that some younger people would learn the martial arts forms. Finally, the entire point of the word processing part of the secular curriculum is to enable the students to help in the text and knowledge preservation project that is the other major effort of the temple.

Conclusion: Daizu and Dai-Iue: Creating Dai-Iue men and/or monks in China.

Before discussing what this tri-partite curriculum tells us about the pedagogical agendas of this Buddhist Institute, I want to briefly return to the set of regulations posted on the walls of all village temples that I mentioned at the beginning of the paper. These regulations were written and distributed by the Buddhist Association of Sipsongpanna, the office of which is staffed by the monks of Wat Pajie. That is to say, the monks who devised the curricula described above and who are concerned with the problem of producing monks are the same ones who sent out this set of rules. I mentioned above the first regulation which states that:

Monks and novices must adhere to the precepts and ideals of the Buddhist virtues, carry forward and develop Buddhist Dhamma, perpetuate a life with Buddhist wisdom; respect the discipline, defend the law, love the country and love the religion.

I also mentioned that this poster is written in both Chinese and Dailue. While the basic gist of the Chinese and Dai-Iue versions are the same, it is worth looking at the Dai-Iue version as well. It states:

Monks and novices must act in accordance with the Dhamma and the Vinaya. The noble Dhamma enjoins [them] to teach the matters of the Lord Buddha, to propagate the teachings of the Buddha, to make Buddhism flourish, civilized and thriving, for another 2000 years in the future. [The monks and novices] should act according to the regulations, to love the land (pradesbiin-meng), love the people (cheua), love the nation (chat), to love the teachings of the Buddha (pha-puttha sasana).


There are two comments I would like to make abounhis. The first is that unlike the Chinese government, the Sangha of Sipsongpanna is not looking for the gradual disappearance of the religion. To the contrary, it enjoins the monks to act so that they might preserve the Buddha's teachings, the sasana. The second is to think about the meanings in the differences of the Chinese and the Dai-lue version of these rules. The Chinese version says that these monks should love the country, guojia, and love the religion, zongjiao. The Dai-lue version says that the mOr:ll<:s should love the land (prades-ban-meng) and the religion (pha puttha sasana), but it adds that monks should love (and thus care for) their lineage or people (cheua) and their ethnic group or nation (cheau-chat). Note, though, that this chat is not a nation that includes a state; there is no call for a separate state. Significantly, the Chinese version does not have an analogous call to love the minzu, the Chinese word for nationality or ethnic group. Similarly, while there is some ambiguity in the termprades ban meuang, in that it could refer to the country, most of the time when people refer to nation in Dai-lue, they say guo, using a Chinese loan word. In other words, I am suggesting that prades ban meuang in this context refers to Sipsongpanna, in contrast to the Chinese version, which refers to China. What is going on here, and how does it relate to the education of Dai-lue monks?

I would suggest that the regulation poster and monastic education at Wat Pajie have a similar hidden agenda. Both want to foster a greater love for the ethnic group in monks and novices who are already within the system. In both cases, this agenda is hidden in a script that is inaccessible to the vast majority of people. The number of Han Chinese people who can read Dai-lue is miniscule, and the number of Dai-Iue men who can read it is also limited, especially in comparison with the numbers that can read Chinese. When a boy ordains, he can not read Dai-Iue. Thus to the extent that anyone reads this regulation poster they can only read the Dai-lue portion of it after they have been novices for several years, and decided that the life suits them. Similarly, while much of the Dai-lue portion of the curriculum, might be viewed by an outsider as being nothing more than the maintenance of cultural forms, that part which is most explicitly pro-Dai, the Baep Heyn Akkhara, is, again, only accessible to people who have already decided to participate in the sys-


tem. Members of the government literally do not know how to read this text. They have no idea about its nationalist sentiment.

Even if they could read these texts, however, this "hidden transcript" would not necessarily bother them because both of these texts, the" regulations of the temple and Baep Heyn Akkhara, direct our attention to what we might think of subnationalist, not nationalist sentiment. That is to say, there is no independence movement in Sipsongpanna, Buddhist-based or otherwise. The monks' statements in regulations and alphabet study-guides are not nationalist in terms of advocating for an independent Dai state, but rather in terms of the need to protect the coherence of the Dai-lue community within China. There is no call in these texts for the return of Sipsongpanna even to the semi-independent status it enjoyed prior to the twentieth century. This has consequences for the way that we understand not just the makeup of monastic education - to which I will return in a moment - but also the way we understand the fundamental nature of. Buddhism in Sipsongpanna. It is tempting to argue that the Buddhism of Sipsongpanna is fundamentally other to China. After all, Dai-lue monks are Theravada monks, the senior monks of the Sangha were all educated in Southeast Asia, and the majority of their practices, relationships and allegiances are all directed towards the Sanghas of Southeast Asia. In other words, this argument goes, the degree to which Dai-lue monks are Chinese must be considered an imposition and not an essential part of their makeup. Yet to make this in many ways reasonable argument would be to fundamentally miss the way that the Chinese state has successfully colonized Sipsongpanna. That is to say, we should not think of Dai-lue identity, Theravada Buddhism and China in terms of either/or, but in terms of both/and.

An anecdote from my experience teaching the nak tham tl class at Wat Pajie English might help clarify what I mean. Early in my fieldwork (and thus in my teaching of the students), I was teaching them to answer yes and no to simple questions: are you a monk? "Yes, I am" or "No, I am not. I'm a novice." Sometime during this set of lessons, we talked about nationality. I asked them if they were American, and of course they responded that they were not. Are you Thai? No, we are not. Are you Dai? I asked, and they responded that they were. All was well and good. I then asked them if they were Chinese, and though I fully expected a negative

268 TH011ASA.BORCHERT

response, they answered just as loudly and clearly as when I asked if they were Dai, "Yes, we are." My surprise at this moment is clearly based on the fact that I was conceptualizing Chinese identity in simplistic terms, conflating being Chinese with being a member of the majority Han. In fact, these boys are citizens of the People's Republic, and while they are often viewed as inferior in some fundamental ways (Hansen 1999) and do not always view their citizenship as valuable, we should not underestimate its consequences.

Perhaps it might be better to think about this in terms of habitus. The home that the Dai-Iue inhabit, politically, is dominated by the Chinese state. The political forms and many of the social forms are similarly designed by the Chinese state, and since these people, monks or otherwise, live inside China's borders, they are subject to their strictures, their laws, their public educational projects and also their benefits. In addition, no matter how this situation began, most Dai-Iue people, monks included, see their relationship with the Chinese state in complicated ways. They are not simply a colonized minority; rather they are Chinese citizens, which has both costs and benefits (particularly when they compare their situations with their friends and relatives in the Shan States and Laos). But this also means that the agendas of these monks, and thus the programs of the schools they build, must be similarly complicated.

Thus we return to this initial question: What is it that the novices of Sipsongpanna are being trained to be, and to what degree is monastic education about making monks? I asked many of these monks the question in a somewhat different way: Is the point of Wat Pajie to train monks and novices to be Dai-Iue men, or is the point to train Dai-Iue men and boys to be monks? Most of the time, the monks avoided the stark contrast of my question, telling me instead that the preservation of Dai-Iue culture was the main reason for the existence of the school. This would seem to imply that the real work of the school is to train monks to be Dailue men. However, I think their answers actually avoid the stark contrast of my question and caution against assertions that the true work of this Buddhist Institute is either religious or ethnic; both agendas are present in the school in fact. Let me put it another way: The abbot of Wat Pajie regularly said that the survival of the Dai-Iue people depended on the survival of the Dai-Iue language (a la the alphabet book), and that with-

~GMONKSOFMEN 269

out the Dai-Iue people, Buddhism itself would not survive in Sipsongpanna. In other words, it is not that the monks believe that Buddhism is unimportant, but rather that it is only by preserving the frame - Dai-Iue identity - the Sllsanii can survive. However, if the frame disappears, then Buddhism will as we1l28•

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28 Another way that we could approach answering this question is to consider the possible career paths for the students of the Buddhist Institute. It is beyond the scope of this paper to address this question fully, but it is worth briefly discussing what students who graduate from Wat Plljie can do. In general, their options as monks are fairly limited. The principal job of monks in Sipsongpanna is to train novices and young monks, and most temples only have one monk to do this job. Many of the student -novices who come to Wat Plljie will disrobe within a year or two of graduation. Some will remain in robes and travel either to Southeast Asia or to the Mahllyana Buddhist Institutes in the rest of China to receive further education. Very few will take the higher ordination, and even fewer will become the abbot of a village temple. While the fact that many of these students ultimately disrobe is of some concern to the senior monks of the Sangha, at this point in time at least, it is problem that they do not have the resources to solve.


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WHERE DO COMMENTARIAL SCHOOLS COME FROM? REFLECTIONS ON THE HISTORY OF TIBETAN

SCHOLASTICISM

GEORGES DREYFUS, WILLIAMS COLLEGE

In describing Tibetan Buddhism, it is customary to draw a sharp distinction between Geluk: (dge lugs) and non-Geluk: schools. The former, which traces its origin to Tsong Khapa (tsong kha pa, 1357-1419) and his direct disciples, is often described as clerical, emphasizing the role of studies in the religious career of its members. It is contrasted with the other main Tibetan Buddhist schools, the Nyingma (rnying rna), Kagyu (bka' rgyud) and Sagya (sa skya) traditions, which are supposed to be less scholastic, stressing the immediacy of personal experience. Furthermore these traditions are often characterized as being tantric whereas the Geluk school is presented as being essentially limited to the exoteric or sutra aspect of Buddhism!.

In this essay, I examine the degree to which this dualistic view of Tibetan Buddhism holds true within the realm of Tibetan monastic education by studying one its most typical institutions. At first sight, it may appear that the present state of Tibetan monastic education confrrms this dualistic picture. There is a sharp contrast between the two models of scholastic education that subsume the field of Tibetan monastic education. The Geluk: model, which is found in the three great monastic seats (gdan sa) of Sera, Drebung and Gaden, is characterized by a strong emphasis on debate that contrasts sharply with the educational model of the nonGeluk: institutions, the commentarial schools (bshad grwa). The education of these institutions, which are found in all threenon-Geluk traditions, puts less emphasis on debate and instead stresses exegesis as its central practice.

1 For such a view, see: G. Samuel, Civilized Shamans (Washington: Smithsonian, 1993).


274 GEORGES DREYFUS

In this essay, I argue that this dualistic picture of Tibetan monastic education as being composed of two entirely separate traditions is misleading, for it masks the commonality that exist among these traditions. My argument focuses on the non-Geluk educational model of the commentarial school. I start with a brief presentation of some of the general features of Tibetan monastic education, focusing on the actual curricular models and delineating their main characteristics. I argue that despite very real differences, Geluk and non-Geluk curricular models share very strong similarities, especially when contrasted with other models known in the Buddhist world. I then examine the rise of the non-Geluk commentarial school model of monastic education, showing that this model is a recent creation, the result of the complex interactions of the nonGeluk traditions with the dominant Geluk scholastic model of the three monastic seats. I further argue that in fact both scholastic models are transformations of the common classical model from which they both derive. But before I can proceed with these historical considerations, I need to say a few introductory words about the general structure of Tibetan monastic education and briefly describe the main features of Geluk and non-Geluk educational models2•

The Basic Structure of Tibetan Scholastic Education

The education of Tibetan monks can be seen to conform to a general model in which three stages can be distinguished. 1) Education begins with memorization and the acquisition of basic literacy, which constitute the heuristic and obligatory aspect of the process. Mter monks have memorized a sufficient amount of liturgical material they may continue with the central hermeneutical practices of 2) commentary and 3) debate. This structure is common to all existing Tibetan Buddhist traditions, underlining the crucial role that memorization and basic literacy play in the formation of Tibetan monks.

Mter learning how to read, Tibetan monks start their most basic educational practice, the memorization of an often large number of ritual

2 The first two sections of this essay are derived from my Sounds a/Two Hands Clapping (Berkeley: University of California, 2003), which the reader can consult for a more detailed examination of these topics.

WHERE DO COMMENTARIAL SCHOOLS COME FROM? 275

texts. This is the essential and obligatory element of the disciplinary practices on which Tibetan monasticism rests. It integrates monks to the monastic community by allowing them to take part in its collective rituals, which are the central activities of the monastery. Unlike the higher scholarly training, which is reserved to the minority of those who are ready for many years of intense dedication, memorization concerns all monks. It inculcates in them a sense of discipline born out of following a daily routine under the supervision of their teachers. This cannot but greatly strengthen the sense of obedience that young monks develop toward authority, an important element of most monastic structures. But the most important disciplinary role of memorization is the training of monks as efficient members of the ritual community. This is the main function of monasteries in Tibet, providing ritual services to sponsors. Typically, upon entering a monastery, young monks (between six and twenty), first memorize its liturgy (ehos spyod). Only then can they become members of the monastery, partaking in its benefits and in its common activities. Once they have memorized the ritual texts, they are able to recite them in unison with the community of monks using the same tune and rhythm. In this way, a powerful aesthetic effect is created, satisfying performers and supporters alike. The monks can feel confident of the value of such practices and sponsors can get the sense of religious awe that allows them to feel justified in their support for the monastery.

After having memorized the prescribed amount of ritual materials, monks may choose to pursue a higher monastic education and enter the course of studies provided by the larger monastic centers of their tradition. Such a choice is individual and traditionally only concerned a small minority, for most monks remained satisfied with their role as ritual specialist and never bothered with studies3• The first task of those Who choose to enter into the course of scholastic studies is to memorize the great Indian treatises (siistra, bstan beos), the root (rtsa ba, mUla) texts, on which the whole tradition revolves. It is the study of these texts that con-

3 This situation is changing to a certain degree. The onset of modernity has tended to give greater importance to scholastic studies, which provide monks with an education that allow them to retain their claim to being a cultural elite. Hence, many monasteries are now providing some scholastic training to their young monks, thereby broadening the number of monks who undergo the training I am describing here.

276 GEORGES DREYFUS

stitutes the tradition, for unlike modern institutions where studies are organized according to disciplines, scholastic studies are organized around important texts. These texts are assimilated through commentaries and debates supported by memorization.

This model of monastic training is followed nowadays by all Tibetan Buddhist traditions4. There are, however, differences in the curriculum that is being studied in this way by these traditions. To greatly simplify, we can distinguish the Geluk curricular model as it is found in .the three monastic seats from that found in the non-Geluk commentarial schools mentioned above. Let me briefly indicate the main features of these two models, focusing mostly on the latter.

The Two Models a/Tibetan Scholastic Education

The Geluk model is well known and does not need to be explained at length here5• It focuses on the exoteric study of five great texts (gzhung chen bka' pod lnga), which are considered the central element of the education of monks/scholars. The study of these texts is preceded by a preliminary training devoted to the mastery of the techniques and vocabulary necessary to the practice of debates as explained by the Collected Topics (bsdus grwa). Once they have completed this study, Geluk monks are ready to examine the five great texts that are taken to summarize the main aspects of non-tantric Buddhism as understood by the Geluk tradition.

4 It appears that there may have been other models of monastic education in Tibet, but over time those have been replaced by one of the two dominant models we examine here. For example, the monastery of Kathog (ka thog) in Eastern Tibet had its own scholastic tradition going back at least to the 12th century. Its approach was based on the study of the nine vehicles as understood by the Nyingma tradition, with a heavy emphasis on the study of the esoteric lore. See M. Kapstein, Tibetan Assimilation of Buddhism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 99. The writings of Karma Pakshi, who was trained in the Kathog tradition, suggest a kind of encyclopedic approach to education in which students are exposed to a variety of topics with an heavy emphasis on the highest tantric teachings, particularly those of the Great Perfection. KongtruI's Shes bya mdzod is another example of this encyclopedic approach. See Blo gros mtha' yas, kong sprul, 1813-1899, Theg pa sgo kun las bstus pas gsung rab rin po che 'i mdzod bslab pa gsum legs par ston pa 'i bstan bcos shes bya kun khyab. Beijing: People's Publishing House (Mi Rigs dPe sKrun Khang), 1985.

5 For more details, see my Sounds of Two Hands Clapping.


The first text, the AbhisamayaiaY(lkiira attributed to Maitreya6, deals with the nature and structure of the Buddhist path as seen from the Mahayanist perspective. It is central to the education of monks, providing them with a coherent worldview that will support their religious practice. It also provides the occasion for the study of the Y ogacara tradition. The second text is Candraldrti's Madhyamakiivatara7 , which is taken by the tradition to provide the most authoritative introduction to Madhyamaka philosophy as understood by the Geluk tradition. Throughout this first and most central period, which may take from six to ten years, students also study Dharmaldrti's Prama1}avarttika8 , which provides the philosophical methodology of the whole curriculum. Finally, the whole process is completed by the Abhidharma and Vinaya through the study of Vasubandhu's Abhidharmakosa9 and GUl.laprabha's Vinaya-sutra10•

Quite different is the curriculum of the non-Geluk institutions, the commentarial schools which are our focus here. Their curriculum is also composed of a list of texts that varies from school to school. There are the thirteen great texts (gzhung chen bcu gsum) favored by several Nyingma institutions, and the eighteen texts of great renown (grags chen bcu brgyad) studied in the Sagya traditionll . Although these lists differ slightly, they mostly conform to a common model based on the study of a number of texts significantly larger than in the Geluk tradition. Typical in this respect is the curriculum of the Nyingma monastery of Namdroe1ing

6 Maitreya., Abhisamayiilarrzkiira-niima-prajfiiipiiramitopadeSa-Siistrakiirikii (shes rab pha rol tu phyin pa'i man ngag gi bstan beos mgnon par rtogs pa'i rgyan zhes bya ba tshig le'ur byas pa), D: 3786, P: 5184. .

7 Candrakirti, Madhyamakiivatiira (dbu ma la 'jug pa), D: 3861, P:5262. 8 Dharmakirti, PramiilJa-viirttika-kiirikii (tshad ma rnam 'gre! gyi tshig le'ur byas pa),

D: 4210, P: 5709. 9 Vasubandhu, Abhidharma-kosa-kiirikii (ehos mngon pa'i mdzod), D: 4089, P:5590. 10 GUl).aprabha,Vinaya-sutra ('dul ba'i mdo tsa ba), D: 4117, P: 5619. 11 The Sa-gya eighteen texts of great renown consists of the thirteen listed below plus

these five: Santideva's Bodhisattvaearyiivatiira (Byang chub sems dpa'i spyod pa la 'jug pa, D: 3871, P:5272), which is studied but not counted among the thirteen; Dharmakirti, PramiilJa-viniseaya (tshad ma rnam par nges pa, D: 4211, Ce, P: 5710); Dignaga, PramiilJa-samueeaya (tshad ma kun btus, D: 4203, P: 5700); Sagya Pal).c;\ita, !Dom gsum rab byed, in the Complete Works of Sa-skya Masters (Tokyo: Toyo Bunko, 1968-9), V.297.1.1-323.2.6, and Tshad ma rigs gter, in the Complete Works of the Great Masters of the Sa sKya Sect (Tokyo: Toyo Bunko, 1968), V.155.1.1-167.1.6.

278 GEORGES DREYFUS

(rnam grol gling), the exiled version of Peyiil (dpal yul), one of the six main monasteries of this tradition. Its curriculum consists of three parts.

The introductory element is provided by the study of Perna Wangyel' s (pad ma dbang rgyal) treatise on the three types of VOW12 and of Santideva's Bodhisattvacaryiivatiira13• Once monks have been exposed to the basics of the tradition, they move to the central part of their education, the study of the thirteen great texts, an extensive list of some of the most important texts of the Indian Buddhist commentarial tradition. Madhyamaka is studied by examining not just C andrakirti' s M adhyamakiivatiira but also Nagarjuna's Mulamadhyamakakiirikii together with the other four smaller texts belonging to Nagarjuna's collection of five reasoning texts (rigs tshogs lnga) as well as .Aryadeva's Catul;!Sataka14. Similarly, the study of the Abhidharma is not limited to Vasubandhu' s Abhidharmakosa, as in the Geluk curriculum, but also includes Asanga's Abhidharmasamuccaya 15 , which is said to represent the Mahayana point of view. Another important characteristic of this model is its inclusion of the five treatises of Maitreya16, which are considered central texts,

12 The three levels of morality in the tradition are: pratimok~a, bodhisattva and tantric. See: Padma dbang rgyal, Rang bzhin rdzogs pa chen po'i lam gyi eha lag sdoms pa gsum mam par nges pa zhes bya ba'i bstan beos Delhi: s.n., 1969.

13 Santideva, Bodhiearyavatara (byang chub sems dpa'i spyod pa la 'jug pa). D: 3871, P:5272.

14 Nagarjuna. Prajfia-nama-millamadhyamakakarika (dbu ma rtsa ba 'i tshig Ie 'ur byas pa shes rab ees bya ba). P: 5224; Aryadeva, CatuJ:zsataka-Siistra (bstan beos bzhi brgya pa), D: 3846, P: 5346. Padma mam rgyal of Zur mang explains thatPrajiiamilla contains the basic conceptual presentation of Madhyamaka, which is commented in the most authoritative Prasangika way, whereas Aryadeva's CatuJ:zsataka is more concerned with meditation. gZhung chen beu gsum gyi thabs dang mtshan don 'grel pa blo gsal ngag gi rgyan (Delhi: Dodrup Sangye Lama, 1976),5-6.

15 Asanga, Abhidharma-samueeaya (ehos mngon pa kun las bstus pa), D: 4049, P: 5550. Padma rnam rgyal explains that the Asanga's text presents a Mahayana view of the basis, path and fruit commonly accepted by all Buddhists whereas Vasubandhu's text focuses on the Hfuayana view. gZhung chen beu gsum gyi thabs, 5-6.

16 The four other treatises of Maitreya are: Mahayanottaratantrasastra (theg pa chen po'i rgyud bla ma bstan beos), D: 4024, P:5525; Dharma-dharmata-vibhanga (ehos dang ehos nyid mam par 'byed pa), D: 4023, P:5523. Madhyanta-vibhanga (dbus dang mtha' mam par 'byed pa), D: 4021, P:5522; Mahiiyana-siltrala1!1kara-karika(theg pa chen po'i mdo sde'i rgyan gyi tshig le'ur byas pa), D: 4020, P:5521. Padmamam rgyal explains that the fIrst contains the experiential view of the ultimate (to be contrasted with the conceptual presentation of Nagarjuna) whereas the next three contain the presentation of the Cittamatra view, meditation and practice. gZhung chen beu gsum gyi thabs, 22.


whereas the Geluk tradition tends to focus mostly on the Abhisamayiilarrzklira.

These texts are studied with their commentaries, fudian and Tibetan. Throughout the curriculum, other texts are used as well, texts that are important for understanding the history of the commentarial school. Mipham Gyatso (mi pham rgya mtsho, 1846-1912) wrote some of the treatises that provide the main doctrinal standpoint of the Nyingma tradition, much in the same way that Goramba's texts are central to the Sagya. But even more impOltant for our purpose are the works of Kenpo Zhenphan Choeginangwa (gzhan phan chos kyi snang ba, otherwise known as Zhenga, 1871-1927), particularly his literal glosses on the thirteen fudian texts. These texts have been central to the formation of commentarial schools, providing the support and methodology for the exegesis of the fudian texts, as we shall see shortly.17 Through out this part of the curriculum, a variety of other auxiliary topics (grammar, composition, poetics, history) are also examined.

Finally, the third and last part is the esoteric curriculum, the study of tantras. It focuses on various texts that are not part of the thirteen texts and whose precise enumeration is beyond the purview of this brief introduction. Particularly important among the texts that are studied in the context are Yonden Gyatso's (Yon tan rgya mtsho) commentary on Jikmay Lingpa's ('jigs med gling pa, 1729-1789) Treasury o/Qualities (yon tan mdzod)ls, various commentaries on the Guhyagarbha-tantral9 and the two Trilogies of Longchen Rabjamba (klong chen rab 'byams pa, 1308-1363)20.

17 gZhan phan chos kyi snang ba, gZhung chen bcu gsum gyi mchan 'gre! (Debra Dun: Kocchen Tulku, 1978). His works are also used by Sa-gya scholars. In the Sa-gya tradition, the works of authors such as NgakchO (ngag dbang chas grags, 1572-1641) and Tukje Belzang (thugs rje dpal bzang, a direct disciple of Goramba who wrote complements [kha skang] to the latter's commentaries) are also used.

18 Yon tan rgya mtsho, Yan tan rin pa che'i mdzod kyi 'grel pa zab don snang byed nyi ma'i 'ad zer, Gangtok, 1969.

19 As, for example, Mi pham, gSang 'gre! phyags bcu'i mun se! gyi spyi don 'ad gsal snying pa.

20 kLang chen rab 'byams pa, a.k.a. klang chen pa dri med 'ad zer, 1308-1363, Ngal gsa skar gsum. Gangtok: Dodrup Chen Rinpoche, 1973, and Rang grol skaT gsum. Gangtok: Sonam T. Kazi, 1969.

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Before proceeding any further, we may want to reflect on some of the differences between this Nyingma curriculum and the Geluk model we examined earlier. One of the central and obvious differences concerns the early inclusion of the study of tantras in the Nyingma curriculum. Whereas the Geluk curriculum seems not to include the study of tantras, the Nyingma tradition includes such a study at an early stage. Although it may seem that this justifies the clmm that Geluk tradition is exoteric and Nyingma esoteric, the reality is more complex. First, one should keep in mind that even in the Nyingma tradition, tantric texts are not part of the standard curricular list. They are not included among the thirteen texts that compose the core of the curriculum, a fact that reflects their esoteric status. Second, it is a mistake to assume that the Geluk curriculum is limited to the exoteric domain and that the study of the five great texts marks the end of the training. Geluk monks often start their study of the esoteric tradition privately while studying at the great scholastic centers. After they finish their exoteric studies they are expected to stay at a separate institution devoted to the study and practice of tantra, often one of the two tantric monasteries of Lhasa21 • There, they are trained in the different aspects of tantra: practice of rituals, construction of ritual implements including offerings and maIJ<;!ala-making, and the study of the philosophy of tantra. They also study the main tantric texts of their tradition, which revolve around the practice of three meditational deities, i.e., Guhyasamaja, Yamantaka, and CakrasaIpvara. They particularly focus on the former and study the main texts concerning this practice, particularly its Root Tantra (gsang 'dus rtsa rgyud), The Fourfold Commentary Cgrel ba bzhi sgrags), and Shayrab Sengge's Commentary on the Root Tantra (gsang 'dus rtsa rgyud kyi tzkii)22.

21 Lower Tantric Monastery (rgyud smad gra tshang) and Higher Tantric Monastery (rgyud stod gra tshang), now relocated in India. In the Labrang monastery of Arodo, monks who have studied in the Monastery of Philosophy (mthsan nyid gra tshang) become Geshes upon passing their bka' rams examinations. They are then required to spend three years in one of the five tantric monasteries, the Lower Tantric Monastery (rgyud smad gra tshang), Higher Tantric Monastery (rgyud stod gra tshang), the Hevajra Monastery (kye rdor gra tshang), the Kalacakra Monastery (dus 'khor gra tshang), and the Medical Monastery (sman pa gra tshang). Similarly, one of the four monasteries in Tashi Lungpo is tantric.

22 Geshe Sopa, Lectures on Tibetan Religious Culture (Dhararnsala: Tibetan Library, 1983), 64-65.


. Thus, I would argue that in all Tibetan Buddhist traditions tantra functions relatively similarly, as the supplement that is supposed to remain secret but is nevertheless central and hence quite widely diffused. What changes from school to school is the way this supplement is approached. In the Ge-Iuk tradition tantras are studied privately or in separate institutions, the tantric monasteries, and hence may be studied quite late in the life of monks. By contrast, in the Nyingma tradition, monks study tantras at a much earlier stage within the context of the commentarial schools. Tantric concepts are introduced quite early on, during the preliminary stage when the differences between sutras and tantras are laid out, a topic formally discussed by Geluk scholars only much later. Thus, there is a clear difference in the priority given to the study of tantra in Geluk and Nyingma traditions, but it is simply not the case that the former can be identified with the exoteric and the latter with the esoteric realms of Tibetan Buddhism. Furthermore, it is a mistake to attribute this difference to some kind of great Geluk vs. non-Geluk divide, for the practice of not including the study of tantras in the official curriculum of educational institutions is also followed by the Sagya tradition. Most Sagya commentarial schools do not officially include the study of tantras, which are studied outside of the curriculum within the confine of a guru-disciple relationship.

Another obvious difference between Nyingma and Geluk curricular models is the number of texts that are being studied. Whereas the Geluk tend to focus on the five texts, the Nyingma curriculum includes many more texts. This difference is clear in the ways each topic is studied. For example, Madhyamaka is studied by examining not just Candraklrti's Madhyamakiivatiira but also Nagarjuna's Miilamadhyamakakiirikii as well as Aryadeva's CatulJsataka. Similarly, the study of the Abhidharma is not limited to Vasubandhu's Abhidharma-kosa, as in the Geluk curriculum, but also includes Asanga's Abhidharma-samuccaya. Another important characteristic of this model is its inclusion of the five treatises of Maitreya, which are considered central texts, whereas the Geluk tradition tends to focus mostly on the Abhisamayiilarrzkiira. We may then wonder whether this reflects a difference in the content of the education?

The answer to this question is again complex, but to simplify greatly I would like to argue that the main difference here is not one of content but one of pedagogy. If we group the study of Buddhism as it is done in

282 GEORGES DREYFUS

these traditions, we can discern five main areas: the study 'of the view (both Madhyamaka and Yogacara), logic and epistemology, the study of the path, monastic discipline and tantra. Both curricular models cover these five topics, the main difference being in how the curriculum covers these matters. For each topic the Ge-luk curriculum tends to focus on a single text, which is then supplemented by further commentaries and monastic manuals (yig cha). By contrast, the Namdroeling curriculum covers each main area by examining several of the relevant texts. For example, when the Yogacara tradition is studied in the Namdroeling curriculum, all the relevant works of Maitreya are examined, whereas the Geluk curriculum studies similar topics within the context of the study of a single text, the Abhisamayalarrzkara. Similarly, when the Mahayana path is examined, the Geluk curriculum focuses on the Abhisamayiilarrzkiira and does not explicitly examine other texts such as the Mahayanasutralarrzkara, as does the Namdroeling curriculum. Thus, what separates the two traditions are less the areas covered than the number of texts studied for each area as well as the ways in these areas are understood. What we have here are two distinct scholastic pedagogical approaches examining similar subjects in different manners and coming, at times, to different conclusions. The dialectical style of the Geluk tradition focuses on a few texts and emphasizes the practice of dialectical debate as the central method of education. As a consequence, this tradition has tended to limit the textual basis of its studies and stress the in-depth analysis of each text through debates. By contrast, the Nyingma tradition as exemplified by the Namdroeling curriculum is less dialectical and more textual. It emphasizes exegesis over debate, and offers a more rounded education that also ificludes some literary as well as dialectical skills.

This methodological difference becomes even clearer when one examines the schedule of the two kinds of institution as well as the pedagogy they follow. This is obviously not the place to go in any detail into this topic, which I have treated in detail elsewhere23, but a few points will suffice here. When one looks at the schedule of commentarial schools one cannot but be struck by the central role of exegetical practices and the lim-

23 For more details on the schedules of scholastic institutions, see The Sounds of Two Hands Clapping, 132-137, 246-248.


ited role of debate, which is typically practiced for only one hour a day, when it is practiced at all24• Most of the day is devoted to the practice of commentary, which revolves around the morning class when students learn new material. This class consists mostly of an explanation of a roottext with a few debates. After lunch, students review the material covered in the morning, checking their understanding of the material and preparing questions. Later during the afternoon they reconvene with another junior teacher to review the material covered in the morning and make sure that they understand the text. Thus, throughout the day, there is comparatively little focus on an in-depth exploration of the topic, though questions are raised in preparation for the evening debate. The overwhelming concern is the development of the ability to explain the text and provide learned glosses and textual clarifications. After dinner, students review their lessons again following the same approach in preparation for the dreaded part of the day, the morning examination.

This examination is one of the practices most characteristic of the commentarial schools as they exist nowadays. The exercise typically takes place in the morning when the abbot designates the student who will have to explain and summarize the lesson of the previous day in front of an assembly. A name is drawn out and the student thus designated has to explain and summarize the lesson of the previous day in front of his classmates or even the whole school. He starts by explaining the point reached in the text and proceeds to comment on the text line by line. This exercise, which takes from twenty to thirty minutes, can be rather trying. Good students do well with practice and are able to refresh the memory of their classmates. The experience of less adept students or beginners can be quite different. Left to their own devices, their performance can range from incoherent and clumsy explanations, to bits of explanation painfully sandwiched between long moments of silence, to the inability to articulate a single word.

This pedagogy is very different from the one followed by the Geluk monastic seats. There, the overwhelming emphasis is on debate, which is practiced for hours (in pre-1959 Tibet, up to ten hours a day!). The prac-

24 Kenpo Abey reported when he was at Dzongsar (see below) in the 1950s there was no debate taking place, except when J amyang Loter Wangpo ('jam dbyang blo gter dbang po), who was so fond of debates, was there. Oral communication, Fall 2005.

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tice of commentary, which students learn through the teachings of their tutors, occupies a smaller proportion of the day and is clearly less important than debate, though itis still central to the educational process. Similarly, the control of knowledge revolves around debate rather than commentary, contrary to how things are done in the commentarial schools.

Thus, the main difference between the various existing Tibetan monastic educational traditions is less a matter of content than one of methodology. These traditions share a large degree of overlap in the content of their education but follow a different approach. The commonality in content becomes even clearer when we contrast this curriculum with the educational model of other Buddhist traditions. One of the striking features of Tibetan educational models is the small role that the reading of the sUtras plays. In both curricular models, the students encounter the inspirational words of the Buddha only on rare occasions, through quotes and glosses, but rarely are the actual texts fully read. In fact, except for an occasional reading of the Priitimok~a-sutra, the main encounter between the students and the Words of the Buddha25 occur with the study of the root tantras of the tradition such as the Guhyagarbha in the Nyingma tradition and the Guhyasamiija in the Geluk tradition26•

Thus, a clear and common feature of Tibetan scholastic education is the de-emphasis on the reading of the sfitras and the privileging of a systematic study of their content as summarized by the great Indian treatises. Tibetan curricula almost entirely consist of these treatises, which offer systematic presentations of the Buddhist teachings. These texts are not part of the bka' gyur, the Words of the Buddha, but of the bstan gyur, the translated treatises27• We could almost say that Tibetan scholasticism

25 My describing these tantric texts as the Words of the Buddha is obviously not meant as a historical claim but as a reflection of the way these texts are considered by the tradition.

26 I am referring here only to the readings that are part of the curriculum. Monks do read some of the siitras, particularly those belonging to the Peifection of Wisdom category, on their own, but in my experience, this happens mostly when they are senior. As they progress through the curriculum, self-study becomes more important and careful reading of great texts may replace some of the excitement of debate. The picture of Geluk monks as being limited to the study of textbooks (yig cha) fits the beginners but is a crude caricature of the practice of more seasoned scholars.

27 For a discussion of the Tibetan canon, see: P. Harrison, "A Brief History of the Tibetan bKa' 'gyur," in J. Cabezon and R. Jackson, Tibetan Literature (Ithaca: Snow Lion, 1995), 39-56.


has· opted for a different set of canonical texts, the great Indian treatises as contained in the bstan 'gyur, rather than the siitras of the bka' 'gyur.

This choice, which seems unique in the history of Buddhism, is less surprising when placed it in its historical context, the transmission of Buddhism from India. In the early phase, Buddhism developed in Tibet under the patronage of a strong dynasty, which drew its Buddhism from several sources, India, as well as China and Central Asia. In such a situation, the influence of Indian Buddhism, though obviously strong, was not as exclusive as it would become later. Then, the study of siitras dominated, as is clear in the respective number of siitras and treatises translated during this period. This situation changed during the later period, when the transmission occurred in the absence of any strong centralizing authority. In this new context, Tibetans adopted to a large extent the models they received from India rather than develop a more synthetic approach, as had been the case during the earlier period. In the scholastic domain, this meant the adoption of the shastric methodology used by late Indian Buddhists, with the resulting focus on the study of basic treatises rather than on the siitras. This shastric methodology is clearly in evidence in the late Hindu traditions where basic aphoristic summaries of a tradition's scriptural basis playa central role, following the methodology developed in Patafijali's grammatical tradition. For example, the meaning of the Upani~ads is summarized by the Brahmasiitra, which is in turn further explained by commentaries. In the late Indian Mahayana tradition, these basic texts are not called siitras, a name reserved for the teachings of the Buddha, but treatises (siistra, bstan beos). They fulfill the same function as their Hindu counterparts, that of summarizing, systematizing and explaining the meaning of the basic scriptures. Such texts are intended to serve as the basis of further oral and written commentary. They would be read in relation to a bhii~ya or a vrtti (' grel ba), a commentary often written by the author of the root text. Those in turn could be supplemented by a vyiikhyii or tikii (' grel bshadf8, a more detailed gloss used to supplement the flrst commentary29.

28 A brief examination of the Tibetan catalogues of the bstan gyur suggests that the Tibetan translation of these terms is far from systematic, the word bshad pa being used to translate a vyiikhyii as well as a bhii~ya. See, for example, P: 5555 and 5565.

29 L. Gomez, "Buddhist Literature: Exegesis and Hermeneutics," in Encyclopedia of Religion (New York: McMillan, 1987),11.529-540,532.

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Existing Tibetan curricula all share this focus on the treatises rather than the Words of the Buddha. They also tend to study the same treatises, though there are differences, as we saw above. Thus, when seen comparatively, it is quite clear that their similarity in content greatly outweighs their differences. What separates them is, as we have seen, less the topics they study than the methodology they follow. Whereas Geluk centers of learning tend to emphasize debate, commentarial schools tend to emphasize commentary.

This clear answer does not, however, close our inquiry, for it raises other obvious questions: where does this difference come from? How did these two methodologies develop? Are we dealing here with two separate traditions as the clear pedagogical differences seem to suggest, or are these differences the products of the transformations of a single tradition? In the next pages, I suggest an answer by examining the rise of the commentarial schools. I argue that far from representing separate traditions, the debating institutions and commentarial schools represent late transformations of a common tradition.

Dzokchen, Zhenga and the Rise of Commentarial Schools

In dealing with the history of an educational tradition, it is always tempting to naturalize the present and assume that what one studies has existed all along. This temptation also concerns the commentarial school. It is tempting to assume that such an institution has existed for a long time, perhaps as far as the foundation of Samye in the 8th century, as is claimed by many in the Nyingma tradition. But this temptation must be resisted and we need to inquire more precisely into the rise of this type of institution. When did it really come to be?

The answer is, as often, "it depends". That is, it depends on what one means by "commentarial school." If we refer by this term to an institution where scholastic exegesis is practiced, the traditional attribution may well be correct. Commentarial schools understood in this loose way may go back to the beginnings of Tibetan scholasticism as it was created at Sangpu and other similar institutions in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, or even to Samye in the eighth century when monasticism and scholasticism were first introduced in Tibet under Santarak~ita's guid-


ance. However, if one refers to the full educational institution that exists nowadays, with classes and exams based on a clear pedagogical choice centering on exegesis and contrasted with the Geluk stress on debate, the answer is quite different, for this educational form came about quite late, as an element of the non-sectarian or ris med movement that took place in Kham (South-eastern Tibet) during the 19th century. Although this movement was not primarily scholastic, it did involve an attempt to revive the scholastic traditions among non-Geluk schools.

This scholastic revival was a way to reverse the massive decline in the level of scholastic activities among non-Geluk schools during the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. Although most non-Geluk scholastic centers did not actually disappear during this period, they were put under restrictions and consequently lost their importance. The monastery of Nalendra, which has been well studied by David Jackson, is a good example of such a fate30• It was put under the rule of the Dalai-Lama's government, where it steadily declined, unable to compete with the fast developing Geluk monastic seats. Its fate illustrates the decline of the non-Geluk schools in the scholastic domain during this period, decline largely due to political circumstances such as the loss of support and protection, which large scholastic centers require to thrive. This is not to say that higher learning did not take place within non-Geluk traditions during this period. There were scholars, but they were mostly operating outside of institutional channels. Many of the non-monastic teachers belonging to a line of tantrikas received their education within their family, studying scholastic texts with their fathers or uncles. Others received their education from the various teachers they could visit, often having to move from teacher to teacher to learn the various parts of the curriculum31 •

This decline was reversed during the 19th and 20th centuries when under the impetus of the non-sectarian movement and its charismatic figures, non-Geluk schools started to reinvigorate their monastic and scholastic institutions. The full story of this monastic and scholastic revival has yet to be told but is outside of the purview of such a short essay. Here, I

30 D. Jackson, The Early Abbots of 'Phan po Na-lendra (Wien: Arbeitkreis fur Tibetische und Buddhistische Studien, 1989), 29.

31 A good example of this kind of educational career is found in the life of Dezhung Rinpoche as depicted by D. Jackson, A Saint in Seattle (Boston: Wisdom, 2004).

288 GEORGES DREYFUS

focus only on a single aspect of this revival, the creation of the commentarial school model. In the process I also make some more general remarks concerning the overall evolution of the Tibetan scholastic tradition.

The story of the creation of the commentarial school model seems to center mostly around a single institution, the commentarial school of Dzokchen Shri Sengha (rdzogs chen srwi sengha), and one of its most famous abbots, Kenpo Zhenga, the author of the literal glosses on the thirteen great Indian texts we already encountered. Dzokchen Shri Sengha had been founded earlier by a charismatic teacher, Zhanphan Thaye (gzhan phan mtha' yas, 1800-), who wanted to develop the practice of monasticism in the Nyingma tradition. In 1848, at his inspiration and with the active participation of Do Kyentse (mdo mkhyen rtse), one of the great non-sectarian teachers, a commentarial school was founded at a short distance away from the monastery of Dzokchen in a special location blessed by the imprint of the magical appearance of Shri Sengha, one of the main lineage holders of the Great Perfection tradition. A temple surrounded by individual cells for around fifty monks and their teachers was built apart from the monastery to mark the special character of this institution. Its members were to devote themselves to monasticism and studies rather than spend their time on the usual ritual activities of the Dzokchen monastery. The purpose of this school was not, however, the study of the great Indian treatises we examined above but the development of Nyingma monasticism in Kham, a particularly important task at that time.

Up to then, the Nyingma tradition had mostly relied on non-ordained tantric practitioners to transmit its teachings through authorized lineages. The move toward monasticism changed this situation, putting a greater emphasis on the respect of exoteric moral norms of behavior as a sign of spiritual authority. This move participated in the logic animating the nonsectarian movement, the revitalization of non-Geluk traditions so that they could compete with the dominant Geluk school. Since the Geluk hegemony was based on a widespread monastic practice, it was important for the other schools to develop their own monasticism to rival the dominant Geluk tradition. This seems to have been one the goals of Zhanphan Thaye in creating the Dzokchen commentarial school. There, the practice of monasticism was combined with the study of the three types


of vows as well as that of the Nyingma tantric lore, particularly the Guhyagarbha tantra and'its exegetical tradition.

The creation of such an institution with its emphasis on monasticism was the first step in the revitalization of non-Geluk institutions. A further and equally important step was taken a few decades later with the transfonnation by Zhenga of this institution into a center devoted to the study of the exoteric tradition. This step was decisive in creating a scholastic model that could provide an alternative to the dominant model of the Geluk seats and could train scholars who could hold their own against the intellectual firing power of Geluk scholars. At this stage many of the details of this transformation remain obscure. The only known biography ofZhenga by Wontoe Kyemab (dbon stod mkhyen rab) has not been found and hence we are reduced to the few indications provided by various monastic histories. What is clear, however, is the decisive role played by Zhenga and his teaching career, which is reflected in his own commentaries on the thirteen great texts mentioned above.

Zhenga's career started in the early years of the twentieth century when, after the death of his teacher Orgyan Tenzin Norbu (0 rgyan bstan 'dzin nor bu), he moved from Gemang to Shri Sengha, by then a well established institution. Although the beginnings of his teaching were modest, Zhenga gradually became an important teacher at Shri Sengha, drawing many students and assuming the abbotship of this institution in 190932•

During his tenure, Zhenga started its transformation into one of the great intellectual centers in Kham. In fact, the creation of the commentarial school as we know it now, with its particular curriculum and its pedagogical approach, can probably be traced back to the time that Zhenga spent at Shri Sengha. Zhenga did not, however, stay there for very long and moved to other institutions where he became abbot and taught extensively. The reason for this move is not known to me, but its result was the spread of the particular pedagogical approach developed by Zhenga to other traditions, particularly to the Sagya tradition, which had been one of the two foremost scholastic traditions but had by then lost its place in the Tibetan scholastic world. Zhenga was particularly fond of this tradition and its great teachers, Sapal). (sa skya palJcjita, 1182-1251) and

32 Jackson, A Saint in Seattle, 28.

290 GEORGES DREYFUS

Goramba (go ram pa, 1429-1489), whom he considered to be the most articulate exponents of non-Geluk exoteric views33• Many in the Sagya tradition returned Zhenga;s affection for their tradition, some even considering him to be one of SapaQ.'s manifestations34.

After leaving Dzokchen, Zhenga taught at several institutions, the most important being Dzongsar (rdzong gsar or rdzong sar) which he founded as the first Sagya commentarial school in Eastern Tibet. Zhenga stayed there four years (1919-1923), and during this time he trained a whole generation of outstanding Sagya scholars who played a central role in the revival of Sagya scholasticism. Zhenga's disciples created new commentarial schools or revived older institutions, using the texts and methodology they had learned from him and thus spreading his influence throughout the Sagya tradition. Particularly important was the creation of a commentarial school at Sagya itself, which in tum led to the creation of several other similar institutions in Tsang and Central Tibet. Also significant was the creation of commentarial schools at Derge (sde dge ') and Lhungpo Tse (lhung po rtse) by Wontoe Kyenrab, one of Zhenga's main disciples and successors at the head of Dzongsar commentarial school. Even older well-established institutions such as Tanak (rta nag) and Ngor seem to have been affected by Zhenga's influence35•

Zhenga also influenced the Kagyu tradition as well, although there the filiation may be more problematic. The first commentarial school in this tradition was established at Pelpung (dpal spung) by Tai Situ Perna Wangchok (twa'i si tu padma dbang mchog, 1886-1952) in collaboration with Zhenga, who taught extensively at this institution.36 In this way, Zhenga influenced a number of Kagyti masters, who spread his approach to various parts of Tibet by creating similar institutions. Nevertheless, his exact influence on the Kagyu tradition is harder to establish than in the case of

33 In his meditational practice, however, Zhenga was a dedicated follower of the Great Perfection tradition. Jackson, A Saint in Seattle, 28.

34 bsTan 'dzin lung rtogs nyi rna, sNga 'gyur rdzags chen chas 'byung chen rna (Beijing: Tibetological Press, 2004),309. lowe a special thank to Jann Michael Ronnis from the University of Virginia for drawing my attention and providing me access to this contemporary historiography of the Nyingma scholastic centers.

35 bsTan 'dzin lung rtogs nyi rna, sNga 'gyur rdzogs chen chas 'byung chen rna, 310. Jackson gives 1918-1920 for Zhenga's tenure at Dzongsar. A Saint in Seattle, 30.

36 From 1910-1918, according to Jackson, A Saint in Seattle, 30.

WHERE DO COMMENTARlAL SCHOOLS COME FROM? 291

the Sagya school.. A story depicts him as raving against the view of extrinsic emptiness (gzhan stong), presenting it in a public teaching as the worst wrong view whose adoption is worse than killing all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas37• Upon hearing this tirade, many of the Kagyii reincarnated lamas left the teaching never to return. Although it is hard to know what to make of this story, which may reflect more a sectarian bias than an actual event, it is clear that Zhenga's well known opposition to the extrinsic emptiness teaching, which plays an important role in the Kagyii tradition, cannot but have contributed to create some frictions, though it does not appear to have limited the influence of his approach in the tradition.

Beside the foundation of these major institutions, Zhenga seems to have participated to the creation of other minor commentarial schools. With the blessing of Jamyang Loter Wangpo ('jam dbyang blo gter dbang po), another great figure of the non-sectarian movement, he became the abbot of the Sagya commentarial school of Gakye Gumdo (rga skye dgu indo). He also spent some time at the Sagya school in Jyekundo, which he created, and contributed to the creation of a similar institution in the

. Drikung tradition. Thus, despite some uncertainties about the details of Zhenga's life38 , his contribution is clear and impressive. What we have here is a figure single-mindedly bent on a mission, that of creating a nonGeluk scholastic tradition based on a particular institution, the commentarial school, with its well-defined pedagogy and curriculum.

This approach is reflected in Zhenga's own commentaries on the thirteen great Indian texts (gzhung chen bcu gsum gyi mchan 'greI). These texts, which appear to summarize Zhenga's teaching activities at the many institutions he directed during his busy life-time39, are neither intended to

37 This story was reported by several Nyingma teachers at Namdroeling during my stay there in 1995.

38 The sNga 'gyur rdzags chen chos 'byung chen rna to which I have referred here presents only his teaching c.areer and does not describe his training. Moreover, its presentation seems to reflect a clear agenda, emphasizing and, hence, perhaps exaggerating the role of Zhenga and of the Nyingma lineage in the revival of the scholasticism of the other schools. Still, its information seems accurate and represents a valuable source for the study of these important developments.

39 It is not clear to me how and when these texts were written. Several were written at Lhundrub Dechen Ling (lhun grub bde chen gUng), a Sagya monastery in Kham. See, for example, the colophon of his commentary on the Vinayasiltra: gZhan phan chos kyi snang ba, gZhung chen bcu gsurn gyi rnchan 'grel, vol.1.643.

292 GEORGES DREYFUS

be original nor do to raise particularly controversial questions. They mostly paraphrase the foundational Indian texts, using glosses gathered from the Indian commentaries explaining these texts, and adding here and there a few points gathered from Tibetan sources40, In that, Zhenga's texts are very different from those of Mipham, the great scholar of the non-sectarian movement who provided incisive and compelling defenses of the Nyingma tradition and measured critiques of other traditions, especially but not exclusively ofthe Geluk41 . Zhenga' s texts offer nothing of the ,sort. They merely comment on the great texts, explicitly refraining from raising the kind of questions that are propitious to debate and are entertained by thinkers such as Goramba or Mipham. Nevertheless, Zhenga's texts are greatly revered by his followers as being of equal value and status to that of Indian texts. This reverence seems to be largely due to the fact that these texts enshrine the exegetical methodology followed by Zhenga and his students in developing the non-Geluk form of education provided by the commentarial schools they created. These texts were adopted by several monasteries as their textbooks (yig cha), particularly by Zongsar. Hence, they are often called the Zongsar Textbooks.

The creation of this new institutional form was a self-conscious attempt to revive the three non-Geluk traditions in Tibet, Bhutan and Nepal42 • It was presented as a return to the classical past when these traditions had a flourishing scholastic tradition. For Zhenga and his followers, the way to return to this past was the exegetical study of commentaries, the proper object of scholarship. By downplaying the role of debate emphasized by the Geluk monastic seats and stressing exegetical skills, they accentuated the differences between these two traditions and provided a clear articulation of a non-Geluk scholastic tradition. In this way, they started the process of reversal of the damage inflicted on the non-Geluk scholarly traditions and created an alternative to the dominance of Geluk scholasticism, which had often tended to present itself in Tibet as the sole inheritor and legitimate interpreter of the classical Indian Buddhist tradition.

40 gZhan phan chos kyi snang ba, gZhung chen bcu gsum gyi mchan 'grel, vo1.4.731. 41 For a study of Mipham's works, see: J. Petit, Mipham's Beacon a/Certainty (Boston:

Wisdom, 1999). 42 bsTan 'dzing lung rtogs nyi rna, sNga 'gyur rdzogs chen chos 'byung chen mo, 309.


The Catholicity of Classical Tibetan Scholasticism

The conclusion that the commentarial school as we know it, with its curriculum, its pedagogical approach and its practices (such as the morning examination), is of late origin is not surprising. Because they highly value their link to tradition, Tibetan scholastic institutions tend to attribute to their practices greater antiquity than they may actually deserve. But the reality is that Tibetan scholastic practices have kept evolving throughout most of the time in which they have existed. This is not just true of non-Geluk commentarial schools but also of the Geluk monastic seats and their focus on debate. It would be a big mistake to think that this focus and the texts that support it came fully formed with Tsong Khapa and his ftrst disciples. Although the exact history of this transformation remains to be explored and is beyond the purview of this essay, it is clear that the Geluk debating institution, as we know it, is also a relatively recent development. It arose out of the complex process of differentiation through which the Geluk school was formed during the second half of the 15th, the 16th and the first half of the 17th centuries. Prior to this formative period, the education dispensed by the main scholastic

. centers of Tibet was quite different from what we can observe in Geluk centers nowadays, even in those centers that were sympathetic to the views developed by Tsong Khapa and his followers. This is quite clear when one looks at Tsong Khapa's training as it is presented in his various hagiographies.

These texts offer a partisan but intriguing view of a time that has often been characterized as the classical period of Tibetan scholasticism43 . This period seems to have been characterized by a large degree of eclecticism and fluidity of institutional organizations and affiliations. Monks went from monastery to monastery, studying with teachers belonging to different schools in accordance with the specialization of these teachers, without much regard for their sectarian affiliations. These differences were not understood to reflect deep sectarian divisions but were seen as individual variations between teachers. After having studied a certain

43 This characterization is based on D.S. Ruegg, "On the Reception and Early History of the dbu rna (Madhyamaka) in Tibet," in M. Aris and A. Suu Kyi ed., Tibetan Studies in Honor of Hugh Richardson (New Delhi: Vikas, 1980), 277-9, 278.

294 GEORGES DREYFUS

number of texts, scholars would tour other centers to be examined on these texts.

Tsong Khapa's education reflects this eclectic atmosphere44• Born in Amdo, Tsong Khapa moved to Central Tibet at the age of sixteen to be trained in the scholastic tradition that was by then well established in this part of Tibet. He went to Tzechen (tse chen) to study Madhyamaka, logic, epistemology, and Abhidharma witli Rendawa, (red mda ba, 1349-1412), to Dewachen (bde ba chen) to study Prajfiaparamita literature and to Zhalu where he studied the Heruka tantra. He also toured the great scholastic centers of Central Tibet such as Narthang (snar thang), Sagya45 , and the Kagyii establishment of Densatel (gdan sa the!) to be exarnined46• Tsong Khapa is described as taking part at the age of twenty four in the Spring Session at Narthang47• Hagiographies also describe Tsong Khapa's successes in his scholastic tours, but even there the details are difficult to figure out. Scholastic tours (grwa bskor dam bca'), as the name suggests, seem to have involved an explanation (bshad pa) of the texts on which the candidate was examined, and a debate in which he would answer queries concerning his explanations. Cha har dGe bshes bLo bzang Tshul khrims describes these tours in this way: "Having asked the permission of the teachers of the monastery, one sits in the midst of the assembly led by these teachers. One then answers distinguishing the meaning [in the questions] asked through debate by the scholars of this monastery." 48

Though it is difficult to know the details of his daily training, Tsong Khapa does not seem to have followed the kind of routine that one can find nowadays in the three Geluk monastic seats where monks debate for hours every day. Tsong Khapa was not tied to a single monastery, as

44 mKhas grub, rJe btsun tsong kha pa chen po'i ngo mtshar rmad du byung ba'i rnam par thar pa'i 'jug ngogs, in Tsong Khapa, Collected Works (Dharamsala: Tibetan Cultural Printing, nd), I.1.a-71.b.

45 R. Thurman, Life and Teaching o/Tsong Khapa (Dharamsala: Library, 1982),8. 46 bSod nams grags pa, bKa' gdams gsar snying gi chos 'byung yid kyi mdzes rgyan

(Delhi: Gonpo Tseten, 1977), 24.b.4. 47 bLo bzang 'phrin las, 'Jam mgon chos kyi rgyal po tsong kha pa chen po'i rnam thar

(Kokonor People's Press, 1996), 148. 48 'dus sde'i bla ma dag la zhu nas bia ma rnams kyis gtsos pa'i 'dus sde tshogs pa'i

nang du bsdad nas dgon pa de'i mkhas pa rnams rim bzhin rigs lam gtong la gang dris pa'i don phye ste Ian 'debs pa yin la!). Cha har dGe bshes bLo bzang Tshul k:hrims, rNam thar, 96.


monks now are. Be was often on the move, going from monastery to one another to study with various teachers, as was the custom then, and spending long period studying on his own49 •

The impression that the classical Tibetan scholastic was an eclectic and fluid tradition based on the practice of commentary with occasional periods of debate receives some degree of confirmation from the ways in which the institutions of the early Geluk school, or rather the Gaden school as it was then called, are described by early histories of the tradition50• Quite revealing in this respect is Las-chen Kun dga' rgyal mtshan's bKa' gdams chos 'byung gsal ba'i sgron me. This text was written in the last years of the fifteenth century or the first years of the sixteenth century, presenting us with a view of Tsong Khapa's tradition as it was conceived in the last quarter of the fifteenth century. In this text we find mention of the great scholastic centers of the tradition, but what is striking is the way they are called. For example, in describing the monastery of Gaden, the text makes it clear that it was not originally founded by Tsong Khapa as a scholastic center but that it was only transformed into one by Kaydrub. The text then adds that Kaydrub "established a philosophical commentarial school at Gaden" (dga' ldan du mtshan nyid kyi bshad grwa btsugS)51.

This description of Gaden as a commentarial school is quite revealing, for it shows that there was no division at that time between commentar-

49 The hagiography of another great figure of the time, Bodong, suggests a similar picture. See: 'Jigs med dbang po, Bo dong palJchen kyi rnam thar (Shinhua: The Old Tibetan Texts Press, 1991),68-78.

50 How debate was practiced at that time is still an open question for me. Hagiographies do not provide much detail about daily schedules, and monastic constitutions (cha yig) are often mute about the history of the schedules they describe. What is important to remember is that even in the three Geluk monastic seats, debate was never practiced every day before 1959, but only during the sessions (chos thog) that took place regularly throughout the year (the rest of the time was spent memorizing and studying with one's teacher). This is also likely have been the case during Tsong Khapa's time, but as time went by these sessions seem to have become longer, becoming the center of the scholastic practices of these institutions. By contrast, Tsong Khapa is described by the hagiographicalliterature as spending most of his time studying on his own with his teachers and engaging only in occasional debates. This difference marks an important shift in the focus of Geluk scholarly practices, which seem to have become increasingly focused on debate.

5l Las-chen kun dga' rgyal mtshan, bKa' gdams kyi rnam par thar pa bka' gdams chos 'byung gsal ba'j sgron me (block print, nd), 370.b.1.

296 GEORGES DREYFUS

ial and debating institutions. An institution such as Gaaen did not understand itself to be very different from other scholastic institutions, despite its allegiance to Tsong Khapa. Even in the second half of the frfteenth century, there was a fluid and informal scholastic tradition present in various monasteries where monks would come to study particular texts with teachers who were renowned for their mastery of these texts. It is possible that various centers had different specialties but that these differences were not understood as marldng deep sectarian differences. Thus, neither Geluk debating institutions nor non-Geluk commentarial schools as they exist now represent the original model. They both are the results of the complex transformations that Tibetan scholasticism underwent after the fifteenth century when Central Tibet and Tsang descended into a protracted civil war and the sectarian divide became rigid. The clear separation that exists nowadays between the two distinct institutional forms we have examined in this essay reflects this later transformation of a much more catholic early classical tradition.

The catholicity of early Tibetan scholasticism should not lead us, however, to assume its universality. Although thinkers from several traditions were involved in scholastic activities, it would be a mistake to think that there was universal agreement about their value. In parallel with the formation of a scholastic tradition in the 11th and 12th centuries and its coming to maturity during the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries, there arose an anti-intellectualist tradition of thinkers such as Jikten Gonpo ('jig rten mgon po) and Karma Pakshi (1206-1283), who opposed scholasticism and its claim that reason can guide practitioners and lead to spiritual realization. These thinkers were deeply skeptical of scholasticism, denying much legitimacy to its claim to represent authoritative Buddhist thought in Tibet52• For these thinkers, spiritual realization does not just necessitate transcending rationality, a claim accepted by almost all scholastics in Tibet, but requires its radical rejection in favor of faith. In this perspective, scholasticism is not just limited, but is an actual obstacle to be rejected, if not ridiculed. It ensnares people in the net of the concepts they create instead of setting them free through the single-minded practice of meditation.

52 I am following here Kapstein's compelling description of Karma Pakshi as a skeptical fideist. See: The Tibetan Assimilation of Buddhism, 101-106.


The conflict between this anti-intellectualist tradition and scholasticism is a well-known tension of Tibetan Buddhism that has surfaced at various periods. It would be a mistake, however, to assimilate this ten. sion to the divide that exists nowadays between Geluk and non-Geluk scholastic traditions. Like their Geluk counterparts, the non-Geluk commentarial schools, whose rise we examined here, are based on the idea that the study of the great Indian texts is a valuable preparation to Buddhist practice. This appreciation for the role of the intellect differs profoundly from the rejection of reason sometimes associated with a more exclusive emphasis on meditative practice. This is not to say that this anti-intellectualism has not some resonance within some of the non-Geluk traditions and that the scholasticism of the commentarial schools represents a view of Buddhism unanimously accepted. There may be thinkers who are uncomfortable with this approach within their own traditions, but it is a mistake to conflate this tension with the differences separating Geluk and non-Geluk schools. Interesting differences are often less the marks of obvious sectarian divisions than the signs of the less obvious dialogue that takes place within living traditions.

THE ART OF READING AND TEACHING DHAMMAPADAS: REFORM, TEXTS, CONTEXTS IN THAI BUDDHIST HISTORyl

JUSTIN THOMAS MCDANIEL

Speaking of nineteenth century Buddhist reform in Thailand Charles Hallisey writes:

"[B]eginning in the eighteenth century and continuing throughout the nineteenth century, there was a radical shift in the interpretation of Buddhist thought, a process of reformation which was encouraged by leading members of the Buddhist monastic order, and supported by the authority of the Siamese throne ... [T]his process of reinterpretation included reform of the Buddhist monastic order, an insistence on strict ritual, canonical fundamentalism, and purity of ordination ... [T]he fact that the Thai developments were clearly not determined by the presence of antagonistic Westerners provides a useful reminder that we should avoid attributing too much force to the 'West' (or Christianity, or Protestant assumptions, or Orientalism) in the changes to Theravada Buddhism ... These developments also open up the possibility that ... there may have been an equally productive elective affinity between some European and some Theravadin responses to modernity"(Hallisey 1996: 48-49).

Further, a general call for scholars to understand why certain Buddhist texts endure while others disappear:

"[T]he survival of any particular text is not self-explanatory, but in fact it is normally the case that the texts fade in their significance as social change occurs, then we need to discover how those texts which do endure are maintained. In part, this will require us to look at the manner in which texts were circulated - the technology, practices, and institutions which made their survival possible-but especially the processes by which certain texts were singled out as worth preserving. Discovering answers to such questions will require investigations about the extent to which the production and survival

1 Prapod Assavavirulhakarn, Anne Blackburn, Thomas Borchert, Georges Dreyfus, Michael Jerryson, Jeffrey Samuels, Ani! Sakya (Phra Sugandha), Peter Skilling, and the editors at JIABS read earlier drafts of this paper and offered numerous corrections and suggestions. I thank them.


300 msTiN THOMAS MCDANIEL

of a text is both dependent and independent of the audi~nces which receive it. In the course of doing all of this we will inevitably end up having to rethink our conceptions of Buddhism as a translocal tradition with a long and selfconsciously distinct history but which is at the same time a tradition dependent on local conditions for the production of meaning"(Hallisey 1996: 51).

The present study takes up Hallisey's call (second quotation) with specific reference to the Thai reading and teaching of the Dhammapada. I use the Dhammapada as a window into the changes and continuities of Thai Buddhist education. Like Hallisey, I question the uniformity and pervasiveness of "Western" influence on the local production of meaning. However, I diverge from him (first quotation) by questioning the basic assumption that Thai/Siamese reforms in the nineteenth century, especially in regards to Buddhist textual canonization and educational standardization, actually were "reforms" at all. For monastic education specifically, I assert that the choice of texts did not "radically shift" in the nineteenth century and did not reflect "canonical fundamentalism" in practice. Moreover, the ways of reading and the pedagogical methods used to teach texts have seen little reformation. Methods evinced in manuscripts from before the nineteenth century and those employed today reveal a deep epistemological and methodological continuity in the Thai approach to Buddhist thought. Major changes in Thai Buddhist education have been primarily institutional and ideologica12• Institutions and ideologies, though, are only part of a comprehensive understanding of education. Often histories of education are written as histories of educational institutions or the ideologies of the elite reformers. For me, studying the history of education is studying the history of reading in shifting perforillative contexts. Tracing the mediums and methods of Dhammapada instruction over time will begin to expose the processes of textual circulation and curricular development among Thai Buddhists. In the end, I question the nature of a local Buddhist "text" and the way it is read. I offer suggestions of ways to study the history of Buddhist textual education and the art of reading with a pedagogical objective. This, I hope, will begin to dust off and examine some of the field-wide skeletons Hallisey has so carefully exhumed.

2 Thomas Borchert's suggestions were instrumental in revising this section of the paper.

THE ART OF READING AND TEACHING DHAMMAPADAS 301

Introduction

Walk into most any Thai bookstore, look at most any ThaiBuddhistthemed website, look at most any Thai Buddhist curriculum, examine most any Thai manuscript archive and you will see the Dhammapada. Some form of the Dhammapada has been wide-spread for at least 500 years. If we look at Thai, Mon and Kluner epigraphic evidence, some form of the text goes back another thousand. Still, all Dharnmapadas are not created equally. Despite its importance for students and teachers in Thailand, the nature of the "text" of the Dharnmapada or how it has been read, summarized, manipulated, expanded, anthologized and transformed through various pedagogical methods and mediums has not been explored3•

At fIrst glance it would seem that the Dhammapada in modem Thailand is radically different from its pre-modem antecedent. There have been several key changes in the text and the manner in which it has been conveyed over the last fIve centuries. First, a pre-twentieth century emphasis on narrative commentarial sections as a pedagogical subject has been replaced by a valorization of canonical Dharnmapada verses. Prior to the twentieth century, the verses as a separate or complete collection had little commerce among teachers and students. In the pre-modem period the Dhammapada verses were rarely collected as one text. Second, manuscripts of some form of the Dhammapada are most often in the vernacular, not in Pali. The most common way to render and teach the Dharnmapada prior to the modem period was the nissaya method which is a vernacular gloss and explanation of Pali words and phrases from the source. Third, the manuscripts of the Pali Dhammapada and vernacular Dhammapada translations, commentaries and glosses nearly always include extra-canonical material and are often included in anthologies of local and canonical material. The Dharnmapada grew and changed over time in Thailand until the advent of the printing press which has slowed, but not killed, its expansion. Expansion still happens when teachers read in order to prepare an oral exposition. Fourth, the mediums for teaching the Dharnmapada have changed in response to technological advances, the

3 Kevin Trainor is undertaking a larger study of the Dharnmapada and its appropriations historically.

302 JUSTIN THOMAS MCDANIEL

influence of Western ideas of the Buddhist "original canon," the rise of the primacy of Pali over vernacular commentarial texts, and changing social concerns; however, these changes need to be qualified based on the audience and the manner of the instruction. These primitivist, textual, cultural, and moralist biases have been well-documented in the study of Sri Lanka Buddhism4. In more recent years the Dhammapada's role in education has expanded into television programs, popular anthologies, handbooks, websites, and avant-garde dramas. There are also abundant copies of the complete Pali Dhamniapada (verses and commentarial narratives) thanks to the efforts of Thai royal family and Sri Lankan and British Buddhist scholars who brought copies to Thailand in the late nineteenth century.

Although the mediums and content have changed significantly, the methods used to instruct the Dhammapada have remained largely the same since the sixteenth century. Instruction still operates on a system of drawing selected Pali words from the text and offering expanded creative glosses and analogies to contemporary issues. Reading, it seems, still involves looking for the terms, themes, and narratives that are the best vehicles for conveying a point orally. Moreover, commentarial narratives on the Dhammapada are still the primary content for lecturers and sermongivers. Seeing how the Dhammapada is taught in an oral context is essential in avoiding convenient and facile reification of unrealistic barriers between the past and the present and the East and the West. Lopez, Jory, Obeyesekere, Ludden among others have astutely identified how the "Western scholarly interpretation of Buddhism" was subsequently adopted by Sinhalese and Thai Buddhists and became the official view of Buddhism locally (Jory 2002: 893). However, as Blackburn emphasizes this monolithic aping of the West can be over-emphasized and may remove the multivocal, inconsistent, and dynamic agency of colonized Buddhists5.

It is wise not to over-emphasize this change lest we become blind to some fundamental continuities in the various ways Buddhism has been taught to Buddhists by Buddhists.

4 Prothero (1995) provides a summary. 5 See Blackburn (2001) for background on the post-orientalist debates in Buddhist

Studies.


.There is certainly an "elective affinity" between the popularity of the Dhammapada in Thailand and the West, where it is arguably the most frequently translated and cited Buddhist text. Indeed, it was the first Buddhist text translated into a Western language, Latin, "Dhammapadam ex tribus codicibus Hauniensibus Palice edidit Latine vertit ... " in 1855, by Viggo Fausb~ll6. The history of the Dhammapada in the West and a full bibliography is sorely needed, but that must be left for another day7. However, just because the text is popular among students and scholars in London and Bangkok, Los Angeles and Chiang Mai, Sydney and Samut Sakom does not mean that the text is taught and printed the same in all contexts. As American historian David Harlan argues, studying texts in their socio-historical context is not purely instrumental where "complex texts are reduced to mere tokens and documents."8 One context is not explanatory of how the text should be taught. Instead, texts are always parts of multiple contexts, multiple readings and educational settings, which, I argue, we would do well to compare. The context in which a text was fIrst composed is not the only context of a text, and not even it's most important9• The author of the original text is not the only person's intention to which we need to pay attention. Our questions to texts need to shift with shifting contexts. Intention is spread and shared across every reader, teacher, every printer, every translator, every student who engages with the text. Being attentive to the nexus of intentions, mediums, and methods in particular contexts is the duty of the historian of education. Official canons of texts, elite ideologies, and the institutions where they are promoted are part of big history and it seems that big history has dominated the study of Thai Buddhism. Big history ignores the small encoun-

6 For good introductions to the text see Oskar von Hiniiber and K.R. Norman (1994) and J.R. Carter and M. Palihawadana (1987). There are dozens of translations of the Dhammapada in European and Asian languages. It seems as if new ones are published every year. There are also many available on the internet. There are many Thai editions of the verses and commentaries.

7 Hecker (1993) and von Hiniiber (1996). 8 This is quoted from Elizabeth Clark's (2004) study of Harlan in her sweeping overview

of the field of history. Harlan indicts the field of history and its allegiance to "context" in The Degradation of American History (1997).

9 Hypertext editions of poems by Blake and Rossetti by of Jerome McGann, George Landow, and others offer good comparative examples of reading texts across different contexts.

304 JUSTiN THOMAS MCDANIEL

ters of students and individual textual passages, teachers and particular classes. It ignores the conversations, arguments, and mistakes that take place in monastic cells, royal corridors, vernacular manuscripts, and novice notebooks.

I see the need to explore the relationships created between the text, reader [teacher] and the audience when teaching as congruent with the relationships formed between the reader and text when reading. I approach the Dhamruapada as a "text" following Michel de Certeau whQ takes into consideration both the espaces lisibles (discursive and material forms of texts) and their effectuation (procedures of interpretation in changing contexts). He writes:

"Whether it is a question of newspapers or Proust, the text has meaning only through its readers; it changes along with them; it is ordered in accord with codes of perception that it does not control. It becomes a text only in relation to the exteriority of the reader, by an interplay of implications and ruses between two sorts of 'expectation' in combination: the expectation that organizes a readable space (a literality), and one that organizes a procedure necessary for the actualization of the work (a reading)." 10

To this Roger Chartier adds:

"The dialectic [when reading and I would argue teaching] between imposition and appropriation, between constraints transgressed and freedoms bridled, is not the same in all places or all times or for all people. Recognizing its diverse modalities and multiple variations is the first aim of a history of reading that strives to grasp - in all their differences - communities of readers and their 'arts of reading. ",

In this case, understanding the ways Thai Buddhist readers. and teachers have creatively translated and taught the Dhammapada will provide insight into how socio-historical forces have influenced the local reading and teaching of Buddhism, and provides a more sophisticated way of seeing the changes and continuities of Buddhist exegesis in Thailand. This is an approach that I hope will serve as a model of how to write a history (certainly not the only way) of Buddhist education without describing merely institutions and official curricula and the ideologies that sponsor them. This is an alternative to the institutional and ideological

10 See Michel de Certeau (1984): 174 and Roger Chartier's commentary (1994): 2.


approach. This study does not simply teach us more about Thai exegetes, translators and instructors. In the end, I hope that it will force us to think about how we read, learn, teach, and translate the Dhammapada in our classrooms, libraries and offices, as well as what we choose to count as historical evidence. There is much to learn from the ways Thais have negotiated with the Dhammapada. We have much to learn from Thai teachers about what counts as the Dhammapada. In this way learning from the ways Thai learn the Dhammapada is not only a historical investigation, it is also an inter-textual and self-reflective projectll.

Instability and Freedom: The Pre-modern Vicissitudes of the Dhammapada in Thailand

The Dhammapada is one of the oldest and best recognized texts of South and Southeast Asian Buddhism. In pre-twentieth century Thailand it was a central subject of commentaries, sermons and inscriptions12• How-

11 For example, Bailey and Mabbet (2003) use the teachings of the Dhamrnapada in support of their thesis that early Buddhism was an ascetic religion in which the Buddhist monk was primarily an ascetic who played a mediating role in society. Regardless of the accuracy of their thesis or the intentions of the author(s), they use socio-historical evidence to provide a clearer reading of the Dhamrnapada and the Dhamrnapada to strengthen their sociological argument. It is an important, if somewhat convoluted, contribution, but tells us nothing of how the Dhamrnapada was taught, how the verses were received, altered, etc. in oral exposition. It tells us nothing about appropriation. The early Pali commentaries reflect a wide diversity of interpretations of the verses, many not in support of the ascetic life. These narrative commentaries expanded in Southeast Asia and became mixed with local folktales, political agendas, etc. For a longer discussion on this topic and a bibliography on Buddhist narrative transfonnations in Thailand and Laos see McDaniel (2000) and McDaniel (2005). For a good model on how stories in India become intertwined see Insler (1991: 97-139).

12 The diversity of Dhammapada and Dhammapada-Atthakatha manuscripts in the region can be seen from the most cursory of surveys. For example, in Balee Buddharaksa's catalogue of 89 Pali manuscripts from Northern Thailand there is a manuscript from 1583 from Wat Lai Hin with one phak (fascicle) and 42 folios, which is not complete, which contains two stories (Velatthisisattithera and another unidentified narrative). There is another manuscript titled simply "Dhamrnapada" from 1511 composed by a Lao monk from Xaiyaburi, but found in Northern Thailand with 23 verses. Other Dhamrnapada manuscripts include: from Wat Doi Kaeo in Chiang Mai with one philk and 99 folios, from Wat Kasa in Chiang Rai with one phak and 109 folios composed in 1647. These are all commentarial narratives. There are also three rare manuscripts which contain only Pali verses. These were used by Oskar von Hiniiber and K.R. Nonnan for their PTSedition. One from


ever, before the twentieth century there is little evidence that there were many "complete manuscripts" of the Pali Dhammapada in Thailand13•

1786 has one phf1k, 57 folios, and was found at Wat Lai Hin. It is missing verses 319 to 343. Another is from 1611 (Wat Lai Hin) and is almost complete. The last is from 1827, Wat Kasa, Chiang Rai has 109 folios. In the catalogues from the Center for the Promotion of Art and Culture at Chiang Mai University there were over 20 Dhammapada manuscripts found in Phrae province alone, many from Wat Sung Men (although many were probably composed in Luang Phrabang, Laos). Most are vernacular nissaya stories and not verses. I examined many of these manuscripts myself at the monastery, but a complete study is needed. These manuscripts are very diverse in size (one to 21 philks) and contain different content (different local narratives and collected, often mis-ordered narratives from the Dhammapada-Atthakatha). In Lampang Province we find a great deal of Dharnmapada manuscripts from the early to mid-eighteenth century which range widely in size and content. Most are vernacular nissaya type manuscripts with mixed local and Indic narratives in idiosyncratic order. In Central Thailand (Siam) this diversity is also found; however, there are fewer manuscripts of the Dharnmapada from the Central region due to the ravages of war and neglect. The manuscripts used to make the frrst tipitaka in Thonburiearly BangkoklRatanakosin era (late eighteenth to early nineteenth centuries) came from Ayudhya, Nakorn Sri Thanrmarat (Southern Thailand) and were edited and compiled at Wat Rakhangkositaram in what is commonly known as the Wang Lang section of Thonburi (properly Bangkok Noi). I am undertaking a study of early Dhammapada manuscripts in Central Thailand. In the library of Wat Boworniwet in Bangkok there is a printed edition of the Dharnmapada in Ariyaka script. Ariyaka is the script that was designed by King Mongkut in the mid-nineteenth century. This edition does not seem to have had much commerce among monastic students, but this is likely the frrst known printed edition of the text. Phra Sugandha (Anil Sakya) was of much help in locating early printed editions of this text. He recently published (2004) a new edition and introduction to the flIst Ariyaka text produced (a small collection of liturgical and protective prayers called the "Suat Mon Tua Ariyaka"). The first four texts, and as far as I can tell the only four, printed in Ariyaka script were the Suat Mon, the Dhanrmapada, the Bhikkhupatimokkha and the BhikkhunIpatimokkha. The last text is strange considering that there were no bhikkhuni (fully ordained nuns) in the country at that time. For this paper, it is telling that the Dharnmapada (verses) were seen as foundational to Thai Buddhist education and heritage. I also thank Phra Mahasillapa Dhanrmasippo (Hinchaisri) for his assistance and guidance. DharrunapadaAtthakatha manuscripts dominate and the use of vernacular gloss is common. Many manuscripts I consulted for this paper were read in situ at various monastic libraries in Laos and Northern Thailand. Many are also housed in microfIlm in archives in the region. There has been no comprehensive catalogue for these manuscripts. A list of catalogues for the collections (which certainly does not cover all extant manuscripts) appears in McDaniel (2003) and a slightly different list in Skilling (2002). See also Skilling (2004) for more information on vernacular texts.

13 In their introduction, Carter and Palihawadana (1987) note that little is known about the "original" Dhammapada. There are several early versions in a Gandhan: Prakrit and the Patna Dharmapada, as well as the Udiinavarga of the Sarvastivadins in hybrid Sanskrit which contains a large percentage of nearly identical verses to the Pali Dhammapada. We can surmise that by the time the Dharnmapada was received in Thailand the 423 verses

THE ART OF READIN"G AND TEACHING DHAMMAPADAS 307

While there are a few manuscripts that contain most ·of the 423 verses, the text is found most commonly in nissaya form. Nissayas are bi-lingual pali-Thai manuscripts used for the instruction and oral translation of Buddhist texts. They almost never provide a complete translation of the original text and in parts of the text are often found in numerous different monastic libraries. For example, a manuscript found in one of the regional microfilm catalogues has "Dhammapada mad #4" as its title. One would assume that this is the fourth section or chapter of the Dhammapada. However, this text is a Thai translation of several (disconnected) stories drawn from the Pali Dhammapada-atthakatha. There is also extra-canonical material included in this manuscript. Each section of the Dhammapada is called a "mad." Each mad is of different length, ranging from 12-42 folii or one-two fascicles (PhUks). From the available manuscript catalogues there seems to be a total of 16 mad. These mad do not correspond to the Pali Dhammapada's 26 vaggas (chapters) or 423 verses. Moreover, there is not one monastic library that contains all 16. Each mad seems to have been composed independent of the others by different local scholars at different times in different places. I have collected numerous mad. From my experience, many of these mads have been mislabeled, and often have numerous missing or severely damaged leaves. In addition, one manuscript can have several pecia. I believe that any attempt to collect "all" of the mads, place them in sequential order and translate them as one text would be misleading to how they were composed and collected. It would create a false sense of "completeness." I am confident that these mad were not composed in order, by one author at one place and ever bound together as one large manuscript. These vernacular narratives and word commentaries seemed to have circulated independently and never read as a "complete" (i.e. all 16 mads) text. I have only found 16 mads in different places, this in no way means that 16 was the total number of mads of the Dhammapada in any of these regions. In addition to having several mads for the Dhammapada, there are also numerous mads for the Dhammapada Nissaya. These scattered nissaya

of the Pali Dhammapada and the 299 commentaries of the PaIi Dhammapada-atthakatha were relatively standard. However, there is very little evidence that the complete text of either the verses or the commentary were read or taught widely as complete texts or bound in one collection.

308 JUSTiN THOMAS MCDANIEL

manuscripts were used for instruction and creative re-telling of particular stories from the commentarial sections of the Dhammapada. Nissayas are evidence of the first Dhamrnapada guidebooks in Thailand. Finally, it is very difficult to determine the actual content from the title of the manuscript on the wooden cover, in the colophon, or in the margin on the first leaf. For example, there are manuscripts with the title "Dhammapada," but they do not contain the Pali verses. Usually they are vernacular glosses (nissaya, vohiira, or niimasadda) of some stories from the atthakatha and other local narrativesI4•

For the sake of space I will only discuss one example which I hope will suffice to understand this reception and transformation between the sixteenth and late nineteenth centuries. It is a mixed Pali and Thai manuscript with the title: Dhammapada Nissaya (Northern Thai: Nisai Dhammapot). The manuscript comes from Phrae Province in modern day Thailand composed in 1836. It is a long manuscript over ten fascicles and 175 folios. IS

The title would suggest that this manuscript is a gloss and explanation of the Pali verses of the Dhammapada; however, this is actually a nissaya loosely based on the Khadiravaniyarevatatheravatthu from the Arahantavaggo of the Dhammapada-Atthakatha. However, details and events from another story seem to have become inserted in the process of translation. The main narrative is based on the ascetic powers and great devotion of Revata and his ordination as a bhikkhu. The Pali story also relates the Buddha's trip to the Khadiravana retreat. Revata was the youngest brother of the eminent disciple Sariputta and was held back from ordaining by his mother, because she did not want all her children to abandon her for the mendicant life. However, Revata not wanting to marry and raise a. family and take care of his mother (because he realized the impermanence of all things) secretly ordained. After ordaining Revata displayed his ascetic power by creating luxurious dwellings for the Buddha and his followers while staying in the Khadira forest. The Buddha told the skeptic Visakha about the wonderful powers of Revata.

14 Vohtiras and ntimasaddas are closely related to nissayas in Laos and Thailand. I describe the differences extensively in McDaniel (2003).

15 McDaniel (2003: 247-273). The catalogue number from the Chiang Mai University Center for the Promotion of Art and Culture is: PHR 010200800. There as a good chance that this manuscript was originally composed in Luang Prabang and brought to Phrae to educate local monks in 1835.


There are numerous other narratives taken from the DhammapadaAtthakatha in these ten fascicles. The order of mad does not follow any previously known order of the Pali Dhammapada-Atthakatha and the choices of narratives to comment on and translate from do not follow the order of stories or chapters in the Pali source text. For example, the last narrative glossed in this manuscript (fascicles nine and ten) is the Cullaekasiitakavatthu which is not situated near the Khadiravaniyarevatattheravatthu in the canonical Dhammapada nor its commentary. However, it is also a story that involves VipassI Buddha. Since a number of the narratives in this Dhammapada manuscript mention VipassI Buddha, this may have been the underlying reason for grouping these seemingly disparate canonical and non-canonical narratives together. This is further supported by the fact that VipassI is emphasized more in these stories than in the Pali versions. From this example, it is important neither to assume that two manuscripts with the same titles have the same contents nor to assume that the Pall title is anything more than a loose guide to the actual contents of the largely vernacular text. In fact, this is rarely the case and never the case with nissaya versions of the Dhammapada. The narratives chosen by the authors of any of the manuscripts of this Dhammapada not follow the order of the Indic Dharnmapada-Atthakatha and narratives from different vagga (chapters) of the atthakatha are bound together. The choice seems to be based on preference for certain stories or based on plot or other similarities rather than any traditional translocal order.

Looking directly at the Revata narrative, as the story progresses the author gradually cites fewer and fewer Pali words from the source text. By the end of the fascicle there is little to connect the manuscript to any known Pali source and even the [mal verse in Pall is not cited. This author . begins his translation through direct and sustained citations from a source (whether present or in mind), but gradually ceases to maintain that connection, although the basic and abbreviated contents of the story are still present in the vernacular. In this section, certain details, like the mention of the cities of BandhumatI and an unusual emphasis of the life of VipassI Buddha (the nineteenth of 24) suggest strongly that the author was drawing on material from the VipassI section of the Buddhavaf!lsa (21) and the story of Dipankara and VipassI from the Durenidiinakathii of the Nidana.


The Nidiina is the introduction to the Pali iiitakas. On tlie one hand, combining details and narrative events from stories in both the Nidiina of the iiitaka and the Dhammap:ida-Atthakatha reveals that our author may have had a very different collection of stories, called the Dhammapada, as his source text. On the other hand, he composed this Dhammapada Nissaya by using Pali trigger words and phrases, which would invoke a mixture of different stories with similar characters, locales and events in the process of oral translation. Hence, he might not have had a physical manuscript of the Pali source text. If he did have a Pali source text then this is evidence that there was another recension of this story available in the region different from the Sri Lankan recensions. It seems most likely that the author did not have a Pali source text present and was not translating but recalling a Pali story or parts of stories from memory and hearsay and dictating them in the vernacular, since he does not directly quote any lengthy passages and does not follow one story consistently. It would be understandable if the author was using the Pali trigger words written and glossed to combine details and events from these two stories. Both the story of Dipankara from the Nidiina of the iiitaka collection and the story of Revata from the Dhammapada-Atthakatha involve the Buddha VipassI and Revata. Moreover, the fact that the city of BandhumatI is mentioned in this text although it is never mentioned in the Dhammapada is because it was the birthplace of VipassI. The Buddhas of the past where often known by their tree, height, life-span, birthplace, and other basic biographical details. The author of our text seems to have been telling the story of Revata using certain Pali words to anchor and order the narrative and when Vipassl was mentioned as part of the Revata story from the Dhammapada-Atthakatha. The author recalled or confused the two stories and added information about the life of VipassI not mentioned in the Dhammapada-Atthakatha. If trigger or key words were used to translate this manuscript they also might have been used to guide the collection of narratives in this particular collection. If we see trigger words or particular details, like the names of cities, particular Buddhas of the past, certain acts of charity or ascetic power, present in previously unrelated stories as organizing principles then this might explain why two stories like the Culla-ekasiitakavatthu and the Khadiravaniyarevatattheravatthu are bound together in this manuscript. They both involve Vipassl Buddha.


Moreover, the plot details and characters of the former are found in versions in the Milindapanha, the Anguttara-atthakatha, as well as the Dharnmapada-Atthakath1i. The version from the Anguttara commentary takes place in the city of King BandhumatI, which may be another linkage between this story and the Revata story. It is easy to see how the events of two stories both involving Revata and VipassI may have been conflated.This tendency to conflate different legends from the lives of one famous holy man is very common in Thailand where legends and retellings of legends in highly divergent forms are found in books on the lives of famous monks and in sermons. Any speaker of Thai who has spent time in the amulet markets and monastic cells in this region can attest to the popular past time of relating the miraculous events of famous monks living and dead, legendary and historical. Accuracy and sources never seems to be a major concern to the story tellers. It is their power as moral and ritual exemplars which have ethical and discursive force. Where these stories came from is of little importance to our study, because most stories in these collections are found in numerous narrative collections in Sanskrit, Pali, Chinese, etc. However, the organizing principles in the mind of the author who combined these stories into one collection are telling. For scholars to define the parameters of Buddhist, local and India literature in Northern Thailand and Laos, they must understand this creative anthologizing of stories as defining the idea of canon or curriculum of Buddhists in the region. Since narratives are the most common way Buddhism is taught in Southeast Asia and narrative texts are some of the most prevalent in manuscript collections, examining what stories were collected, how they were manipulated, expanded, contracted and conflated provides a good picture of the subjects and themes of Buddhist education. The intellectuals of the region did not simply reproduce, translate, collect and preserve the Pali canon and commentary, but they creatively engaged with that wide corpus and contributed to it through creative and expansive translation and anthologizing.

A brief selection from the manuscript will help understand how nissayas work. Pali words are in bold:

"thoeng revatathera an yu pa mai sak phian hai pen het laeo dessana yang dhamma dessanca an ill an phut Tuai atikalyal,la paddha gatha pat ton wa game va yadi varaneni lae ayasma hi sariputto Tuai dae sariputtathera


cao ton mY ayu lao wai yang vatthfi khong thoeng gam an Tai 87 kfi kot laeo meua lun pabbiijesi go rom yang ... gon lae phiang Tang revata nan dao phfi Tiao yfi reuan lae luk nan phi wa ca puat" (approx.: folio ka.recto-folio.kha.verso) [sic].

"This dessana meaning this dhammadessana is distinguished by being a paddha gathii that is atikalyal}.a. This means [the verse] "game va yadi varfieni" and "ayasma hi sariputto." This refers to sariputtathera, the honorable one, [who] has reached ayu (proper age) and has already placed down vatthfi (clothes), material goods, silver, and gold of all types amounting to 87 kotis, after he caused to ordain ... [he brought together his three sisters to ordain] Only Revata still lives in the house and this child, his older [brother wants] to ordain" [SiC]16.

The decision of when to write out a Pall word and supply a vernacular gloss is idiosyncratic and depends on the author and the words which he wants to mention and gloss. From the manuscript, this sermon-giver wanted to emphasize the importance of gifts to the Sangha; however, a -number of other themes could be expanded upon orally. Most nissayas, including this one have approximately 5-20 percent Pali words. The vast majority of Pall words from the ideal source are not lifted or glossed.

The standard hierarchy between the Pali source text, as well as Pali words and vernacular glosses and translations is either neutralized or reversed and the vernacular and the classical languages play together like well-matched tennis players. In this match, the second-seed vernacular upsets the top-seeded classical. This pedagogical method is a defining feature of Thai and Lao nissayas in general. It would be going too far, without evidence as to the conscious or sub-conscious intentions of the llpthor, to say that he purposely attempted to de-value the Pall text. In fact The opposite is more likely. He strung Pali words and phrases through the vernacular to maintain a link with the prestigious and ancient Pall source text, but used the vernacular to . communicate with and edify his audience. The Pali text is invoked, but reduced to a bank of words and phrases, not an intact, canonical or inviolable text.

What is not seen from this short selection is the degree of repetition, for example, many words from this section are repeated ad nauseum.

16 The obvious orthographic anomalies are beyond the scope of this paper. I discuss them extensively in McDaniel 2003: 270-273.


Clearly, they were used for emphasis in an oral exposition. They almost form the chorus of the sermon that is returned to over and over again. Despite this repetition, the actual narrative would be unclear and useless for reading alone. It needs oral commentary and explanation. Theserepetitive words are triggers and clues to what the sermon-giver emphasized for oral commentary.

It is difficult to determine if the author of the nissaya was drawing material from the Nidiina or any other known source directly. It is more accurate to say that the author was drawing from a common bank of terms, names, and narrative sequences from various sources including the Nidiina, Cariyapi{aka, Buddhava'l'lsa, local folktales, his own memory, stories from his teachers, etc. There are only enough terms or the passages to associate details and events from this manuscript with some version of the Revata story, but this story should be seen as inspirational not prescriptive. A great number of new jiitaka-type narratives were being composed in this region, many including random bits of information, tropes, characters, plot elements, morals, etc. The authors of nissayas were freely borrowing details, characters and events from each other and from the collective bank of well-known narratives (both canonical and non-canonical, vernacular and Pali-Sanskrit). This free borrowing of whole narratives or elements is certainly not unique to Thailand. The Dhammapada-atthakatha, the Jiitakas, etc. possess many stories from Sanskrit narrative collections such as the Pancatantra, Mahiibharata and the Hitopade.sa, or from Buddhist Sanskrit and Hybrid Sanskrit collections. Many of these same stories, of course, worked there way into the collective memory of Persian and European storytellers. Great stories are always stolen, always adapted and always sharedP

Other Dhammapada nissaya manuscripts reveal that the authors were not following any known source text, but is instead glossing a very few selected words from the known Pali sources alongside hundreds of other

17 This supports the iikhyiina theory which has been a point of controversy for a number of scholars stndying early Buddhism. An iikhyiina narrative is composed during a sermon, and I believe during vernacular translation, based on trigger words from a verse from the Jiitakas, Dharnmapada or other collection. This seems to have been a common method for attaching prose narratives to verses and may have had its origins in Rg Vedic literary and exegetical practices. See Alsdorf (1974: 36-47) and von Hiniiber (1996: 113).


Pali words not found in the known sources. They are mostly anthologies of stories drawing a few words and phrases from non-sequential parts of the source, but representing themselves as the entire source. The authors used certain known terms, names and narrative sequences as triggers to compose their own texts18 • The introduction, titles of the chapters, etc. served as anchors to the texts. If we trust the akhyanatheory then this is the way that most Buddhist narrative commentaries were passed down orally until recorded in manuscripts19• This oral method from e.arly Indian and Sri Lankan Buddhist authors is seen in written form in Thailand. The authors of our manuscripts may be simply initiating or taking part in

. another stage of commentarial development. These are partly new texts based on new ideas, new vocabulary, new creative anthologizing, new audiences, a new stage of Pali, new intentions, and a new socio-historical context. Since these texts are in nissaya form, they were used as a guide to an oral sermon/lecture. This is the way that most monastics and laity were introduced to the Dhammapada. It is certainly the way most Thais are introduced to the Dhammapada today. Sermons often draw the first line from the story of the Dhammapada-atthakatha and occasionally a verse from the text and then explain each word in the vernacular accompanied by stories, anecdotes, historical lessons, and links to contemporary events. The source text serves the needs of the teacher, the translator, the anthologizer, the politician, or the poet.

After seeing evidence from one manuscript one may ask if there is any relation to the "actual" Dhammapada at all. Given that the nissaya only draws selected passages, is repetitive, does not mention the "original" Pali

18 Orthographic, phonological, and philological evidence reveals that, in terms of "authorship," these texts were most likely inscribed by scribes by dictation. A teacher most likely orally dictated to a scribe in the form of notes to prepare a sermon. The scribe could also have taken notes while a teacher actually ·gave a sermon. The abbreviated and abrupt nature of these texts could be evidence of an early type of stenography. Finished manuscripts in tum were used by future teachers as notes when ·teaching and therefore were changed every time they were taught through oral exposition. Nissaya manuscripts composed in the seventeenth century are stilI used by teachers today (especially in Laos) when giving sermons.

19 The debate over the way early Buddhist texts were composed and transmitted orally is stilI a point of contention in the field. Allon (1997), Gethin (1992), Collins (1992), Gombrich (1990), Cousins (1983), and Wynne (2004) offer good summaries of these debates, but offer different explanations.

THE ART OF READING AND TEACHING DHAMJ\.1APADAS 315

verse, has extensive vernacular asides, draws from multiple versions of a story, and is useless as a connected narrative can this even be called text is the Dhammapada lineage? I argue that since local communities saw this as part of the Dhammapada tradition, the fact that most people in the region (literate and illiterate) over time were taught that this text was part of the Dhammapada (or even "the" Dhammapada), and that the nissaya author was clearly drawing from some version(s) of the Dhammapadaatthakatha, we cannot discount it unless we believe that texts should only be read in the form of a critical edition or that context and reception are of no use to historians, textual scholars, philologists, anthropologists, and the like. Is the Dhammapada only valuable as a complete text? What counts as a complete text? Who decides value? Is a partially oral text part of a textual tradition? Can there be a partially oral edition?

The Rise of the Verse: The Dhammapada in Modern Thailand

From this one example (of which there are hundreds like it in the manuscript libraries of Thailand), manuscript evidence shows us that the Dhammapada grew and changed in Thailand before the twentieth century and the rise of the printing press and royally sponsored monastic reforms. It also demonstrates that the commentarial narratives, not the verses, were the primary vehicles for teaching the Dhammapada. These narratives were creative anthologies of a bank of common stories, themes, terms, and names, rather than a standard collection based on the normative Pali Dhammapada-Atthakatha. Before the modem period it seems that these versions of the Dhammapada-Atthakatha were presented to their audience as normative. In fact, in modem sermons, these anthologies are still often called the "Dhammapada" and for the non-specialist we would assume, and my interviews confirm this, that they are considered normative. From the mid-nineteenth century to the present a shift has occurred in which the verses began to receive more prominence in terms of printed editions, royally sponsored canons, websites, and anthologies. The narrative commentaries have become more standard and have witnessed changes in format under influence from the West. However, the use of the Dhammapada in Buddhist education and homiletics has changed little.


In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries'it became more common for the verses of the Dhammapada to be published separately from the narratives of the Dharnrnapada-AtthakathlL This was certainly a new phenomenon in the way the Dhammapada was rendered in writing. The several editions of the Tipitaka and Pali commentaries sponsored by the royal family between the 1780s and present separate the' verses and narratives (although the content of the canons has shifted from edition to edition). This separation of the verses and the narratives, as well as the creation of a "standard" or "mattatan" edition of the Dhammapada-Atthakatha in 1916 by the Liang Chiang publishing house in Bangkok, changed the manner in which a teacher or student could possess the text. This mattatan edition of the Dhammapada's verses and narratives has been re-issued twice recently, once in 1972 and again in 1987 by Mahamakut press. There are six volumes in each paper-back set2°. The [lIst is based on Prince Wachirayan's nineteenth century edition and the latter was translated into Thai by the novice Utit Sirivanna Parien, who is now an American educated businessperson. Udit and another novice named Adisak Thong Khwan Prian also published a small handbook for the study of the verses of the Dharnmapada which helps students learn how to translate the verses into ThaFl. Udit provides specific instructions on the nature of verb endings, noun declensions, word order, and syntax not seen in any pre-1902 manuscript versions. The main guide is for translating the verses, while only the last two chapters mentioned methods of translating the narratives. In both six volume sets and the handbook Udit states that he abides by the more authentic "blae doi payanchana" or "literal translation method" versus translating for the spirit of the text. This method was rarely employed in pre-1902 Thailand exegetical practice. However, the standard is now "literal." To emphasize the superiority and gram-

20 This, of course, is not the only published edition of the text, but it is the most frequently used by students. There are too. many editions to cite (indeed different editions occupy an entire section of the Mahamakut bookstore!) but see for example Samanera Udit Sirivanna Prian, Dhammapot Bhtik 1-6 Plae doi byanjana (Bangkok: Liang Chiang, 2530 [1987] and Prince Wachirayan's often reprinted Dhammapada-Atthakathaya (Bangkok: Mahamakut Press).

21 There is a small "pocket edition" (chapap krapao) of this which is very popular called the Gil meu kan plae dhammapot [Handbook for translating the Dhammapada]. Most recent edition: 2531 [1988].


matical integrity ·of the original Pali, the handbooks emphasize the eight sub-methods used to translate the text: according the nouns, according to the verbs, according to compounds, etc22• The Dhammapada, instead of an evolving and ever-changing part Pali, part vernacular collection of narratives has been limited to a translocal Pali text with literal Thai translation. The Pali original and the Thai translation are grammatically fixed. The text is standardized and not available in multiple local scripts, and the verses and the narratives are separate. Moreover, both the 1972 and the 1987 editions have changed the experience of reading the text through formatting. The way the text has been formatted has changed the way it is read. The verses are now printed in many modern editions in bold and formatted separately from the narratives (or in bound as an edition without narratives). There is a table of contents separating the stories. English punctuation, not part of the Thai language, has been added, so there are quotation marks, paragraph breaks, parentheses, periods, etc. copying Roman font editions Western editions of the text. Included in the standard printed editions are photographs of Bodhgaya, the stupa at Mahavihara temple in Sri Lanka, the cover of one edition is from a nineteenth century Sri Lankan painting. The only way to know that this text is Thai is the script. The Dhammapada has been internationalized in Thailand. In manuscripts there was no way to know without reading through every story (or more likely listening to every story) where one story ended and the next began. There are no tables of contents, paragraph markers, punctuation, or font changes. Colophons provide little more than the ritual dedication, date, and title of the entire text, all according to local customs.

This internationalization is also reflected in new mediums used to teach the Dhammapada, especially the verses. First, there is a nightly television program called "Dhamma Sarnrap Brachachon" which highlights Dhammapada verses and then gives literal Thai translations. There is no mention of the narratives. Also, ITV, one of Thailand's major television networks ends its broadcast day with a picture of a Buddha image and soothing new age music over which a Pali verse from the

22 This follows Kaccayana's grammar, known as Mill Kaccai in Thailand. For a study on Pali grammatica and methods of teaching Pali grammar in Thailand see my "Notes on the study of Pili grammar in Thailand" (forthcoming articles in honor of W.S. Karunatillake).

318 JUSTIN THOMAS MCDANJEL

standard Dhammapada is given. This type of daily affirmation or chicken soup for the Buddhist non-soul style of presenting the Dhammapada valorizes and promotes the verses in Pali and removes them from the local tradition of teaching, binding, translating, and expanding on the text. Avant-garde dramas, like Patravadi's "The Buddhist Bible" (she uses an English title although her play is in Thai) invokes verses from the canonical Dhammapada without touching upon the commentarial verses. She told me she wanted Thais to see the true core of Buddha's word made accessible to the younger urban generation. She also reads the Dhammapada in English. There are also several Thai websites, most sponsored by university Buddhist study groups, which emphasize the centrality of the Dhammapada and promote its verses instead of the narrative commentaries. For example, at Mahidol University group http://www.mahidol.ac.th/budsir/buddhism.htm uses verses from the Dhammapada, disconnected from their narratives, which claims to teach students "the core truths" of Buddhism. A Thai real estate company run by Luanchai Vongvanit has started the Dhammathai website in order to provide the "essence of Buddhism" in an accessible manner. The website provides the verses of the Dhammapada in English and Thai. There is no mention of the narratives. This is a massive change considering palm-leaf manuscripts rarely emphasized the verses.

Rethinking Reform: How do we trace changes in the history of Buddhist education?

. The rise of the Dhammapada verses and the creation of standard editions of the verses and narratives would seem to indicate a massive shift in the modem period. This shift can seemingly be placed squarely on the shoulders of the West and their intellectually colonized royal and monastic admirers. However, neither did the Thai simply copy the West nor do the apparent changes to the written text of the Dhammapada and Dhammapada-Atthakatha (the difference between these two texts was not clearly pronounced in the pre-modem period) reflect the continuities in pedagogical methods, examinations, and sermon-giving. In order to understand these important distinctions we need a short historical review.


Beginning in the late eighteenth and continuing into the twentieth cen-• wry Siamese kings made great efforts to formalize the Buddhist ecclesiastical system and educational practices in Siam and in their spheres of influence (or vassal states) in the north, northeast and south. The greatest proponents of educational and administrative reform were Rama the

.. Fourth (Mongkut) and Rama the Fifth (Chulalongkorn). This was part of the nation-building and social control process to suppress regionalism, strengthen the country against foreign missionary influence, formalize the curriculum, and "modernize" the entire education system. Siamese ecclesiastical ranks, textbooks printed in Siamese script, monastic examinations, the Pali Buddhist canon, and teachers approved from Bangkok and Central Siam were disseminated to the rural and urban areas in Siam and its holdings. Monks from the recently pacified north, northeast and south were brought to Bangkok to study in two new monastic universities (Mahachulalongkorn and Mahamakut). Localized forms of expression, language, curricula, script were considered irrelevant to this formalization and centralization. One of the most significant features of Buddhism in modern Thailand is its apparently well-organized and centralized institutional structure. Since Siam (later Thailand) is the only country in Southeast Asia that was never colonized, the nation-building project in which religious reform played a major part could be considered a success23•

Looking at the study of Thai Buddhist education, perhaps the most common marker for change from the pre-modem to the modern are the reforms of King Chulalongkorn and Prince Wachirayan culminating in the· Sangha Act of 1902. Yoneo Ishii (1986), Craig Reynolds (1975), Patrick Jory (2002), and David Wyatt (1969) all invoke this royal administrative act as the signal that Thai Buddhism was entering into modernity, or perhaps that modernity was impacting Thai Buddhism. The main crux of this act was the formalization and centralization of Thai Buddhist education and administration.

Royal reform of Buddhism is not particularly modern. Consistently from the earliest thirteenth century records to 1902 Siamese kings and high

23 The status of Siam never being colonized in hotly debated. What is colonization? Many scholars consider Siam crypto-colonized. Most recently this debate was highlighted by a panel at the International Thai Studies Conference in DeKalb, IL (April, 2005) titled "Thailand: Anything but Never Colonized."


ranking monks had seen it as their duty to collect and edit Buddhist texts, rewrite Buddhist history, purge the community of monks (Sangha) of Corrupt persons, and rein in renegade, independent-minded practitioners. By 1902 these techniques had become more efficient and widespread. In 1902, King Chulalongkorn and Prince Wachirayan, who was an ordained monk and who had become the Supreme Patriarch of the entire Thai Buddhist Sangha, appropriated the role of the Sangha to educate the Thai people and regulated the organization of monastic education. Those two working with another half-brother, Prince Damrong (the Minister of the Interior), released the Act on the Administration of the Sangha ("Acts of the Administration of the Buddhist Order of Sangha of Thailand: 2445 [1902],2484 [1941], 2505 [1962]" See specifically R.S. 121 cited in Ishii 1986, 68). Before this Sangha Act, monastic education and administration in Thailand was neither formal nor centralized (See Wutichai 1995 and Reynolds 1975). It depended largely on the aims of the monks of each monastery. The Sangha Act was designed to make those residing in a monastery a "service to the nation" and to deflect criticism from European missionaries who denounced the poor and idiosyncratic state of Thai Buddhist education and organization.

The details of the Sangha Act represent largely administrative rules dividing the Buddhist ecclesia into formal ranks and assigning national, provincial and district heads of the Sangha (Ishii 1986: 69). They are still in effect today. Prince Wachirayan commented on the act, "Although monks are already subject to the ancient law contained in the Vinaya [Buddhist Book of Precepts], they must also subject themselves to the authority which derives from the specific and general law of the State" (Ishii 1986: 70)24.

In 1902, around 80,000 monks became subject to the law of the royal government of Siam who controlled their admission to monkhood, the right to ordain, the size and status of monastic ground, and the ranking

24 Each of the regions (north, south, central, and northeast) has a formal hierarchy of monks and they all report to the Mahathera Samakom (Council of Elder Teachers) headed by the Supreme Patriarch. Individual monasteries are still run by abbots (chao awat) and deputy abbots (rong chao awat), but after 1902 they had to report regularly to their district and regional heads. All monks had to be registered with a particular monastery and were issued identification numbers and cards.


ofIIionkS. There was certainly sporadic resistance in the form of renegade monks in the north like Krupa Siwichai and rebellions of holy men in the northeast until 192425• Still, the suppression of the independent-minded outer kingdoms was not cited as the main impetus for the State's monastic reforms. Prince Wachirayan believed that reform was necessary to ensure that Siamese Buddhism could purify itself. He believed, as did the king, that Buddhism was simpler and more pure in the distant past. "True Buddhism" was that designed by the Buddha himself in India 2400 years earlier. The only way to return to that purity was to go directly to the Buddha's words-the Pali Canon26•

Studies by Jory, Ishii, Reynolds, Tambiah, and Wyatt (among others) which posit a rupture between pre-1902 and post-1902 Buddhist education are certainly accurate if we see Buddhist education as royal, ideological, institutional, canonical, elite, and Bangkok-centered. However, this approach has certain limitations. First, it focuses only on the changes ushered in by the elite in Bangkok. Second, it does not examine the actual impact institutional changes have on the reception of Buddhist learning among students. Alongside this focus on institutional changes is a conflating of royally sponsored editions of the canon and the formalization of monastic education. Although there were different and varied editions of the canon produced in Thailand from the fifteenth century to the present, these canons, as I have argued elsewhere, had little to do with the tex

. tual monastic curriculum or the content needed to pass monastic exami-nations (McDaniel 2002, 2003). Third, it does not offer us any real understanding of the nature of Buddhist education before these institutional changes. Wyatt and Ishii in particular only state that Thai Buddhist education before King Chulalongkom's reforms was amorphous, informal, idiosyncratic, and decentralized. While there certainly is little information available about the specifics of institutional Buddhist education before 1902 outside the royal court there has been nearly no effort to look directly

25 See Collins (1998: 405-408). He lists several of the major studies by Keyes, Chatthip and others on these revolts. See also two more recent studies by Yukio Hayashi (2004) and Duncan McCargo and Krisadawan Hongladarom (2004: 219-234).

26 The founding of the Dharnmayuttika Nikaya (Tharnmayut Sect) in the mid-nineteenth century has been studied extensively as being tied to this rising purification and return to the canon. This is beyond the scope of this paper. I question this in McDaniel (2006).

322 . JUSTIN THOMAS MCDANIEL

at the texts used in pre-modem education to discover possible rhetorical styles, pedagogical techniques, and curricular parameters used generally in the region27. Fourth, historians have classified the royal reformers as monolithic in their thinking. King Mongkut, Prince Wachirayan; and King Chulalongkorn for example were great patrons of monks, like Somdet Buddhacarya Brahruararp.sI Toh, who were famous for their amulet production and protective magic. They openly criticized local folktales in Buddhism, but embraced similar tales in the Jiitakas and DhammapadaAtthakatha. They promoted a return to the canon, but did not necessarily agree on what texts were contained in the canon. Furthermore, the monastic examinations they approved and formalized were based primarily on commentarial texts and locally produced anthologies. Knowledge (memorization, translation) of the Dhammapada-Atthakatha is necessary to pass one third of all the monastic examinations28. Locally produced commentaries, like the Mangala-atthadfpanf commentary from sixteenth century Northern Thailand, is another major component of the exams. In addition to this, and as will be discussed more fully below, examinations are taken by very few monks and have little impact on everyday Buddhist education in Thailand. Finally, the institutional approach avoids looking at the

27 Reynolds (1973) examines the famous Siamese cosmology, Traibhiimikatha, and its popularity in the reign of Rama 1. He shows how it was incorporated into monastic education. The pedagogical value of this text, in face of Western science, was questioned in the late nineteenth century. I thank Michael Jerryson for stimulating conversations on this issue.

28 Ishii (1986) and Wyatt (1969) describe the history of educational reform in Thailand welL This institutional history (including a few haphazard efforts to reform Siamese Buddhist education had been made by Kings Boromatrailokanat in 1466 and King Narai in 1688) are well summarized. The important thing to understand in this paper is that the texts used for Buddhist examinations through out Thai history were largely non-canonicaL Ishii provides a detailed list of texts used for these examinations. Many things have changed since Ishii's book was published. However, these changes are primarily organizational and technological. For example, the examination administrators gave me the CD-Roms which include all of these texts. These CD-Roms are designed to make studying for the examinations more efficient and less expensive. The examinations and results can be obtained at the central monastic examination office in the Banglampu section of Bangkok. The major text used for the actual examination is now called the "Reuang Sob Dham khong Sanam Leuang Paneak Dham" and is produced (with changes) in two volumes every year. The results are publically displayed on the outside bulletin board of the main examination office and in other public places in the major monastic universities. I thank the staff at the examination office for their help.


texts that were taught before 1902 and those that are taught in the mod,em period. The texts themselves reveal much about the oral context of the teaching, translation and pedagogical practices, and epistemological approaches.

Generally I am asking why historians and anthropologists of the Theravada tend to see a break between the pre-modern and modern without offering detailed examples of bridges between the pre-modern and mod,em. The reasons for changes in education, political policy, healthcare, literacy, notions of nationhood, and Buddhist practice from the pre-mod,em to the modern period have been discussed extensively by the leaders ,in the fields of Southeast Asian history and religion (or scholars choose either to work on the modern or pre-modern period). Rarely are efforts made to trace the connections between them. For example, Nicholas Tarling, Milton Osbourne, Joginder Singh Jeesy, Sulak Sivaraksa, Yoneo Ishii, David Wyatt, Fran90is Bizot, and others emphasize the changing face of Theravada Buddhism based on the disruption of colonialism, capitalism, globalism, technology or Christianity. While massive changes are undeniable, these are rarely explicitly coupled with detailed attempts to

• see what meaning-making systems, literary tropes and themes, exegetical practices, indigenous systems of data compression, and conceptions bf history and nation persist. What is lost and what is gained by looking for ruptures between the pre-modern and the modern in the Theravada? 'While changes in elite ideologies (which are never uniform), institutions, printing and media technology, national border formation, and bureaucratic administration are undeniable theses types of changes are mapped onto assumed epistemological changes in teaching, expressing, and learning.

For the sake of space, let me concentrate on one danger of the institutional and ideological approaches. Scholars typically overestimate the influence of the central Thai ecc1esia and the government's Ministry of Religion and Culture on the practice of Thai Buddhism29. The central

29 The uniformity of the ideology of the royal reformers is also over emphasized. Wyatt (1969) notes that there were many arguments and disagreements over the way to reform monastic education. These disagreements have been unexplored except for Wutichai (1995) who notes, among other nuances, that many educational reforms were influenced by the Japanese as well as the British and the Americans. I spoke about these Japanese influences as well as the tensions and shifting ideologies of Thai royal reformers in McDaniel (2004).


Thai government's sponsorship of ecclesiastical exanllnations, suppression of local religious practice (esp. Lao) and training of Thammayut missionaries has had only limited influence over the past century. The new Buddhist education created by the elite has little commerce among the vast majority of monks and novices in Thailand today. According to national statistics, of the 267,000 monks and 97,840 novices in Thailand in the year 2000, only 9,775 were enrolled in monastic universities. Of the 9,775 enrolled, only 351 are studying beyond the bachelor degree level and only a handful are studying for their doctorates3o•

Before monks and novices can enter monastic universities they study at primary and secondary monastic schools. There are 31,071 monasteries in Thailand, but only a small percentage of these monasteries actually run schools. 3,554 have Rongrien Pathom (elementary schools). 78 percent of these schools are in the North and Northeast. In Central Thailand only 1.66 percent have monastic elementary schools. The North and Northeast have 21,629 and 160,991 monastic elementary students respectively, while Bangkok and surrounding provinces have less than 8,000 students enrolled at monastic elementary schools. The largest number of monastic students in modem Thailand study in Pariyattidhamma Secondary Schools. In these schools there are three major divisions: Paliseuksii study (Pali language, liturgy and texts), Dhammaseuksii (ethics, general Buddhist history and teachings) and Samanseuksii ("common," secular). On paper, most schools teach only Buddhist subjects, but some also teach garuhat (householder or lay subjects). However, in each school, an emphasis can be placed on householder/common/secular subjects (mathematics, economics, political science) by individual teachers. In fact, individual teachers, like in edu-

30 These statistics are published annually by the Ministry of Education in Thailand (in Thai). The northeast, despite being the poorest and least populated of the four major regions of Thailand, has the largest number of monks and novices in the country (over 40 percent of the total). The north has 20 percent of the total. However, the northern seven provinces and the twenty-six northeastern provinces produce the least amount of university students. They sit for monastic examinations much less frequently than Bangkok monks and novices even though Bangkok and surrounding provinces only supply 16 percent of the total monks and novices in the country. The South has the least and only six percent of all the monks and novices reside that region. A very small number of monks study specific subjects at secular universities like Mahidol, Chulalongkorn, Khin Kaen, and Chiang Mai Universities. Some get independent tutoring, for example, I tutored several monks in Sanskrit grammar outside of a formal institutional framework.

THE ART OF READING AND lEACHING DHAMMAPADAS 325

~atioil systems worldwide, often change the official cumculum to suit the ileeds of their students, the pressures of parents, and their own political ruid jiodal agendas. Even if monastic students are in institutions that only teach ;Buddhist subjects, they often can gain access to secular subjects in a variibtjr of ways. Moreover, many of these students are only in robes for temp6rary periods and often disrobe in their late teens31•

',~.ftThese statistics are striking because they reflect the sparse influence that 'the Sangha educational and institutional reforms---especially the textbooks, curriculum and examinations, of the late nineteenth and early twenpeth centuries-have had on the state of Buddhist education in the counfflT. Among the statistics found in a National Ministry of Religion report, 16ss than 30 percent of all the monasteries in the country have schools. ~'J ~:;~'-~

l" 31 See Borchert (present volume) for a more detailed description of Theravadin sec,,~iidary monastic education in Northern Thailand and Xipsongpanna. What he describes is ~;bertain1y more congruent with practices in Laos than in Central Thailand and the urban ~~enters of Northern and Northeastern Thailand. Rural areas of Thailand are more infonnal 1~d even though they are supposed to use the official curriculum their teachers often diverge ffrom this curriculum based on the availability (and affordability) of textbooks, teacher train&mg, and willingness to stay within the narrow/examination focused national curriculum. {Presently, I am finishing a study on monastic education in Laos and Northern Thailand ;;which will explore the relationships between rural and urban monastic education in greater i¥pth. Besides these three divisions of primary and secondary religious education in Thai~land, there are also "Buddhist Sunday Schools" (Rongrien Kanseuksa Buddhasasana ;Waniithit). The name for these schools was influenced by the popularity of Christian "Sun:~ay Schools" run by missionaries in Sri Lanka and, later, Singapore. Buddhists saw the suc;,cess at which Christians could teach basic Christian history and ethics to students in large, :~ecular government schools. They adapted this model to teach Buddhism. In 1958 they were introduced fonnally to Thailand at Wat Yuwarajaransristi in Bangkok. They have spread quickly to other monasteries throughout the country and have become very popular ht rural areas where monasteries lack the facilities or teachers to run their own schools. ,They are usually funded by private donors who are dissatisfied with the purely secular education provided by government schools. These local and independent Sunday Schools design their own curricula, schedules, hire their own teachers (usually monks or lay volunteers), and produce or purchase their own materials. For example, the Sunday School at Wat Sung Men in rural Phrae Province has designed a curriculum which promotes the study of Northem Thai culture, the old Yuan alphabet, Northern Thai manuscripts and history. The class (two hours) is taught in the Northern Thai language and the abbot himself wrote and photocopied the textbook for his students (both lay and monastic). There are 1,239 registered Sunday Schools in Thailand. 82 percent are in the North and Northeast. Less than six percent are in Central Thailand. Sunday Schools continue to grow as government schools Pecome less accessible, less funded, and more overcrowded, and as they provide less in the way of an ethics-based education in a country dealing with the harsh effects of drug abuse, prostitution, economic stagnation, and emigration of the youth to Bangkok.


Many novices and monks reside at one monastery and travel to attend classes at another nearby. Many novices and monks have never attended school formally and study with their abbots, older novices and senior monks. They do not use textbooks, but rely on the notebooks or oral expositions of their teachers and older students. If they do attend a neighboring monastic school or government school, it may be only for 2-3 years. The vast majority of formally or informally trained monastic students never sit for state-sponsored monastic nak dham or parian examinations32• Of those who sit, even fewer pass the exams. The rise of Buddhist Sunday Schools, as well as meditation centers, mosques, Christian mission schools, and government schools further reflect the sparse influence that the Sangha educational reform has outside the elite monasteries of Bangkok and a few other major urban centers. The reforms of the kings and princes of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries have little effect on Buddhist education throughout Thailand today33.

A Modern Dhammapada: Orality and Homiletics as History

Most Buddhist educational reforms have remained ideological, institutional and relatively innocuous in the daily teaching of Buddhism in Thailand. The same can be said of changes in the instruction of the Dharnmapada. Certainly the text has been he standardized and fOJ1Ilatted differently. It was set in several editions of the canon. Moreover, new mediums and editions have emphasized the-verses over the narratives. Still, the way the text is taught and its role in education have remained

: ,relatively intact34• In the first two sections, we saw how the atthakatha,

32 Anne Blackburn (2001) makes the useful distinction between the apprentice (informal) versus curricular (formal) monastic education in Sri Lanka.

33 There are formal and informal sermon-giving training at monastic universities. For example, at Mahamakut University students are asked to give mock sermons in froitt of other students and the good sermon-givers are given different time slots to give sermons to the public depending on the size of the audience.

34 Homiletic style is by no means rigid, proscribed, and/or universal. Even though the nissaya/vohiira-mode is popular and pervasive, some sermon-givers like the nun, Maechee Sansanee Sathirasut, Luang Pho Khun, and Phra Phayom Kalyano are famous for their own unique styles of giving sermons which incorporate jokes and dramatic analogies and allusions to contemporary news events.


. not the verses, are essential to the monastic examination taker. Therefore, there is little change here accept for the institution of written examinations in 1913 and the focus on standard and grammatically fixed editions of the narratives. Still, most laity, nuns and monks do not take these examinations. Most come into contact with the Dhammapada-Atthakatha through sermons and lectures at monastic schools or in sermon halls. These sermons are where the nissaya pedagogical method and the creative expansion and adaptation of the Dhammapada persist in Thailand.

The difficulty with studying the evolution of Buddhist texts in Thailand is that it is hard to define the nature of a text. I began my research comparing manuscript versions of the Dhammapada (which include nissaya, vohara, namasadda, verse only, and Pali only narratives, the latter two being rare and not widely circulated) to modern editions of the Dhammapada (Pali verses, Thai transaltions of the verses, editions of the Dhammapada-Atthakatha used for examination preparation, handbooks to the grammar of the Dhammapada-Atthakatha). There was a great disconnect in content, medium, formatting, grammar, orthography, and rhetorical style. However, listening to sermons and attending monastic classes based on the Dhammapada or listening to teachers who invoked the Dhammapada (verses and narratives) revealed a deep continuity between the pre-modern manuscripts and the modern sermons. The problem was only comparing one type of "text." If scholars only compare the palm-leaf manuscript versions of the Dhammapada (or any other text) to the modem printed editions of the Dhammapada (or any other text) then this reifies the common assumption that modern editions are simply newer manuscripts using a different medium. This is an easy assumption to make being that most of the time scholars read palm-leaf manuscripts in transliterated printed form or if they actually read the palm-leaf manuscript it is from a copy made from a microfIlm roll and read in French, British, Danish, Australian, Japanese, or American archives, or in monastic libraries and national archives in Thailand, Laos, Sri Lanka, India, etc. This reading is done seated alone under electric light attended by dictionaries, concordances, or CD-ROMS. The practices and experience of reading a printed text alone is mapped onto the experience of reading a Palm-leaf manuscript. The size and paper and the clarity of the script seems to be the only difference. This is a very important part of textual and philological


research of which I am a practitioner, but this is not the only way to study texts. This experience and practice misses the fundamental orality and social experience of the study of, listening to, worshipping, and teaching a palm-leaf manuscript. For many, the Dharnmapada is not read in a text, but vibrates in the air between the sennon-giver or lecturer and the audience. It was/is an aural/oral experience. The context in which the premodern Dharnmapada manuscripts (especially the nissaya versions) were composed, copied, taught, and studied was oral and homiletic in nature. It was part of the ritual, meditational and devotional life of a Thai Buddhist as it still is. Therefore, it is of limited value to compare pre-modern manuscripts used in educational settings to modern printed editions. Differences can be noted. Corrections to the past or to the present text can be made. Chronological textual stemma can be created. Judgments of textual integrity can be made. To what end? What do any of these answers tell us about how Thais have read and taught these texts and how that has changed over time? What do we learn of appropriation? Of course these endeavors are not useless. Indeed, I think they are fundamental in the process of research. However, they are not adequate for tracing educational history and defining the contours of a Buddhist reading and teaching culture.

In order to trace the history of Buddhist education and the texts used in that education we must compare pre-modern manuscripts used as guides to sennons, lectures, and training (ritual, monastic, astrological, magical, medich-ml) to modern teacher's handbooks, sennon-guides, ha..'1dwritten notebooks, audio/video-recorded sennons, etc. It would also help to compare these to student notebooks and textbooks. We need to compare oral text to oral text - educational context to educational context. These texts are created for and in response to oral presentations, summaries, expansions, and adaptations of source texts whether they are canonical, commentarial, vernacular,. or classical. They exist in a group setting. They are cues to unwritten oral expansions and asides. They are responsive to contemporary events, personal biases, political agendas, idiosyncratic wonderings, and audience reactions. These encounters may float above the texts, but they are part of the history of Buddhist education.

By listening to sennons both in the city and at rural temples, reading transcripts of sennons delivered by monks allover the country, or attend-


ing classes at monastic high schools and grammar schools which teach the Dhammapada,. we can see the creative reading, exegesis, expansion, and anthologizing of the Dhammapada witnessed in pre-modem manuscripts and through the nissaya method. In these sermons and lessons in the non-elite monastic schools and sermon halls teachers most often do not work from a standard edition of the Dhammapada, but instead tell stories from the Dhammapada-atthakatha and then "lift words" (yok sab) from the story and offer creative glosses and expanded oral narrative subcommentaries. These sermons are becoming relatively standard as well. They can be purchased through out the country in faux manuscript form. One popular sermon-guide is the Nidiin Dhammapot published by Liang Chiang, but different from their other mattatan editions and those standard editions published by Mahamakut press. It is an anthology of stories from the Dhammapada-Atthakatha. Like pre-modem nissayas the collection of stories in this Nidiin Dhammapot edition are not identical to the canon. The creative nissaya method of presenting the Dhammapada stories orally lives on in this popular guide for sermon-givers. Its shape mimics that of a palm-leaf manuscript and shows the importance of the traditional manuscript that is to be held when a monk gives a sermon (the text is the same width and length as a traditional palm-leaf manuscript and folded into a libretto book). The "feel" of a manuscript is not only maintained through size, but also by weight, as the pages are made of stiff cardboard and make holding it similar to holding stiff palm-leaf. There is also a space on the back of the text where the donor of the text can handwrite in her or his own name. Therefore, new colophons are being created every time this printed text is donated. It also comes in codex form as a two volume set, but this version is not as popular for sermon-givers. The title is misleading35, it is not all the "stories of the Dhammapada' (nidiin (from the word for story, not the Pali text Nidiina) dhammapot (Dhammapada)), but actually short introductions to some of the stories. In the beginning there are instructions on how to give a sermon based on these summaries and a selection of important terms. The text has 12 phiiks or gan (Pali: gmpjha English: fasicles). There is a list of techniques for giving ser-

35 ???


mons and its states that it is in the vohiira style, which is nearly identical to the nissaya style36. Both the nissaya and vohara methods use the "yok sab" method of lifting Pali words and phrases from a canonical or extra-canonical source text/anthology (or a bank of Pali words and phrases in mind) and expand on them orally with a high degree of repetition for emphasis and stylistic flow. It gives insight into the ways canonical texts are anthologized and taught in the modem period. Here the Dhammapada verses are not taught, but only 12 selected and abbreviated stories from the Dhammapada-Atthakathii. For example, the MatthakUl:uj,alfmalJapa story is introduced as good for teaching on various occasions and this is followed by the story of Nang Kalfyab;inf. Here we see that across the 12 phuks the stories that are chosen are mainly about the benefits of giving to the Sangha or stories about how listening to the dhamma cures disease and brings wealth. These were consistent themes in the nissaya Dhammapadas. At the beginning of each phuk there are instructions to the monk using the text on how to give a sermon. Since the identical instructions are at the beginning of eachphuk it shows that the phuks can be used and shared separately from the set. This gives us an indication of why we find so many scattered and shared palm-leaf phuks in premodern Thailand. The instructions state that there are four techniques for giving a sermon:

"sandassana is the sermon which helps the listener clearly understand that which is (true); 2) samadapana is the adapting (drawing out/nom nao) of meaning in order to help the listener use the teachings in practice; 3) samuttejana is giving the listener confidence and motivation in his/her practice; 4) sampahansana is the instilling in the listener a sense of happiness, joy, hope and enthusiasm. "37

Following these are the five objectives a preacher should have:

"1) offer the listener something s/he has never heard before; 2) help her/him understand things s/he has heard before more clearly; 3) help her/his doubt abate; 4) help them develop right view (kwam hen tilk tong) according to

36 Many pre-modern manuscripts have titles like nissayavohara or voharanissaya and often there is little distinction between these types of texts. At the 2005 IABS conference in London I presented a paper specifically describing voharas.

37 These Pali terms are part of a string of terms from a common formula in the Vinaya and Suttanta. Translated from the Thai and Pali.


. the dhamma; 5) help them liberate their mind from confusion (in order to begin to lessen. the power ofkilesa (moral stains) and taI)ha (craving)."

Then the text provides explicit warnings and inspiration to the sermon-giver:

"Before you [the sermon-giver] begin this sermon on the stories of the Dhammapada in prose using the vohara sermon style, [you should know that] this text uses modern vernacular colloquial language, but should be given properly as a sermon ought to be, because this is part of the world heritage of the wisdom of Buddhists. This is designed to draw out the dhanuna and explain it clearly so that the audience will understand it easily and clearly. You should only speak for about 25 minutes. This sermon is important because it summarizes the main theme of each story. Its objective is to be convenient for the sermon-giver and to be used easily in his teaching of essential information in accordance with the theme of the story. It supports the sermon-giver by allowing him/her to use his own language [expressions, turns of phrases, accent] however he sees fit and in anyway that facilitates learning and appreciation from the audience. This ensures that the dhanuna penetrates and seeps into (saek seum) the listener and becomes part of her/his way of life. This is designed to sow the seeds of virtue in the heart and mind of the people so that the roots of virtue grow from the heart and mind. This will make each person and the whole society happy. "38

Here we see an example of what Jeffrey Samuels calls "attracting the . heart" (see his contribution in the volume) and how the stories from the Dhammapada are designed, in this text, to be adapted by and be inspiring to the sermon-giver. The sermon-giver must be attentive to the needs of his audience. The text that is negotiated by the sermon-giver and his/her . reading exists somewhere in the space between the text, the reading, the teaching, and the reception - never stable, never alone on paper.

Conclusion

Seeing this modem Dhammapada text and pre-modem nissaya manuscripts as a sermon and lecture guides is essential to understanding how the vast majority of Thai teachers and students come in contact with the Dhammapada through reading and listening to nissaya, vohiira and

38 Translated from the Thai.


niimasadda style sermons and lectures. In Thailand, there was a radical shift institutionally (and in some ways ideologically, although this is often over-emphasized and over-simplified) in the way Buddhist education Was organized and administered39• However, these institutional changes and their ideological bases have not been widely or uniformly adopted in Thailand. Moreover, these institutional adaptations and contested ideological re-imaginings did not cause, in any significant way, the pedagogical methods, rhetorical styles, or subject matter of Buddhist lessons to radically shift. Looking at the homiletic and pedagogical practices We can see a deep continuity. The history of the Dhammapada demonstrates this.

Looking at the Dhammapada, we see that the teacher and the student transform, manipulate, and expand the core, and that is the core of his or her idiosyncratic reading/listening. This core is transformed to the degree that it is no longer a core or from the canon. The canon is rarely consulted by sermon-givers or teachers. The idiosyncratically appropriated text, the sermon-guide, the handbook, the lifted series of terms are enough. The teacher's reading and the audience's reception are tantamount. The integrity of the original (whatever that may be) text is secondary. The core, whether a canonical or commentarial source, is an ever shifting body of ideas and narratives. The forces of the core text and the forces of changing contexts, intentions, mediums, opinions, agendas, and abilities are always in play while reading and teaching. The source text and the text of the sermon-guide ceases to be a simply a text, but a practice. Therefore, studying the Dhammapada, as Hallisey states about Buddhist texts in general, is a study of shifting practices of circulation. The study of appropriation is part of a study of circulation. Studying a text's circulation and appropriation, I am arguing, is not merely institutional and ideological. Studying a text in its context means studying shifting contexts and not just external socio-historical contexts, not just ideological and

39 The format of printing texts was also a significant change. The simple fact that students can each have their own copy of a book and study on their own changes their relationship to the teacher and weakens her/his power to deviate from the text. However, despite mass printing most students in rural Thailand (and especially Laos) cannot afford or do not have access to books in school and teacher's handwritten notebooks still are widely used.


institutional changes and contexts, but the personal and internal contexts (training, worldview, language skills, moods, epistemological approaches, etc.) of the sermon-givers, students, and teachers. Combined with a study of educational institutions and the ideologies of the designers of curricula, I believe that this homiletic approach will flesh out the complex history of monastic education in Buddhist and other contexts.

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"TEXTS MEMORIZED, TEXTS PERFORMED: A RECONSIDERATION OF THE ROLE OF PAR/ITA IN

SRI LANKAN MONASTIC EDUCATION"!

JEFFREY SAMUELS

During the past twenty years there has been a growing interest in monastic education within the larger field of Buddhist studies. Within the last ten years in particular, a number of monographs and articles examining the training and education of monks in Korea (Buswell [1992]), Tibet/lndia (Dreyfus [2003]), Thailand/Laos (Collins [1990], McDaniel [2002,2003]), and Sri Lanka (Blackburn [1999a, 1999b, 2001] Samuels [2002]), have been published. Many of those works have paid particular attention to the texts used in monastic training, as well as to how the information contained in those very texts is imparted to and embodied by monks and novices.

While the growing attention to Buddhist education and training texts certainly provides us with a more considerable understanding of monastic culture, focusing exclusively on the contents of texts and handbooks used in the training of monks and novices neglects other forms of monastic learning. Indeed, several scholars (Keyes [1983], Blackburn [2001], Dreyfus [2003], Samuels [2004]) have recently begun to explore more diffuse ways in which monastic ideals become transmitted to newcomers to the sangha as well as to examine how learning in monasteries generates monastic identities.

1 An earlier version of this article was presented at the annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion in San Antonio, TX 2004. I would like to thank Justin McDaniel for his efforts in organizing the panel; Thomas Borchert, Georges Dreyfus, and Justin McDaniel for their valuable comments; the attendees of the panel who asked very poignant and stimulating questions, and the helpful comments of an anonymous reviewer. I would especially like to thank Anne Blackburn for her comments as a respondent to the AAR panel and as a reader of an earlier draft. Her suggestions and ideas continue to shape and transform my own vision of Buddhist monastic education and pedagogical practices. Finally, I would like to thank my wife Benedicte Bossut for her comments, both editorial and substantive. Any errors or oversights that remain, however, are solely my responsibility.


340 JEFFREY SAMUELS

Building on these more recent studies, this article considers one such diffuse method of monastic training: ritual performance. Examining the practices and ideas surrounding the performance of paritta or protection texts in contemporary Sri Lanka, thi.s article looks at the role that leamingparitta (or pirit in Sinhala) plays in shaping monastic agents. In paying particular attention to how learning to perform paritta inside and outside of the monastery instills in novices or samm:zera ideal images of monastic behavior and deportment, this article not only argues for a more nuanced conception of the place that texts have in monastic training, but also reflects upon how learning Buddhist rituals provides the opportunity for monastics to think about the content of the very texts employed in their education.

Before examining the pedagogical role that paritta plays in contemporary monastic culture, I would like to offer two caveats. First, although I contend in this article that learning paritta performance is directly related to the training of Buddhist novices in contemporary Sri Lanka, I by no means wish to suggest that paritta is the only form of monastic training and education. Despite the fact that this article is focused on paritta, learning to perform protection rituals must be understood as comprising only one dimension of a larger pedagogical "tool kit" through which images of ideal monastic behavior, deportment, and attitudes become transmitted to and internalized by sama1:zera2•

The second qualification pertains to the source material for this article. Much of the ideas put forth here are derived from fieldwork conducted at one novice training temple (that currently houses over fIfty novices) and three branch temples. Whilst one must remain watchful so as not to generalize too widely what novices and monks from one institution say about their own training, the material collected from interviews with them is, by no means, ungrounded. Indeed, conversations with monks and novices from a number of other Sri Lankan temples, monastic colleges (pirive1:za), and training institutions over the past six years makes the relationship drawn between performing pm'itta rituals and generating monastic identities informed, though by no means conclusive.

2 This idea of culture as a "tool kit" is discussed in Ann Swidler's (1986) article that examines the ways in which culture influences action.

TEXTS MEMORIZED, TEXTS PERFORMED 341

Before turning directly to an examination of the material derived from numerous interviews with novices, monks, and head monks, it may be helpful to provide a brief background to Buddhist paritta in Theravada Buddhism and in contemporary Sri Lanka practice.

1. Paritta Rituals: Its Meaning, Content, and Practice

The Pali word paritta is derived from the Sanskrit word paritriil}a which, according to Monier-Williams (1990:595), is derived from pari + ...Jtrai and means to rescue, preserve, deliver, or protect3• Moving beyond a simple definition of the term, Lily de Silva (1981 :3) has offered three common usages or meanings of "paritta" in Sri Lankan culture: "(a) a sutta or Buddhist sermon, the recitation of which ensures protection (b), the non-canonical text comprising a collection of such suttas and (c), the ritual at which this collection is chanted."

The idea of "protection" is purported to have been discussed by the Buddha in reference to the prophylactic powers of certain mental qualities such as loving kindness (metta) and truth (sacca)4. An examination of certain post-canonical texts reveals that within several hundred years after the Buddha's death, ideas surrounding the protective powers of metta and sacca developed into the notion that the very texts that extol such

3 According to the Ptili-English Dictionary (Rhys Davids and Stede [1989:426]), the Pali word paritta is derived from pari + -,jtra and means protection or safeguard. -

4 Within the canonical collection, for instance, we find several discourses in which the Buddha is purported to have mentioned protection. In the CUllavagga of the Vinaya Pifaka (II.109f.; see also Anguttara Niktiya II.n), for example, the Buddha is informed about a monk who has died from a snakebite. Responding to the news, the Buddha remarks that were the monk to have cultivated loving-kindness or metta toward the four royal families of snakes with his mind, the monk, though bitten by the snake, would not have died (Sace hi so, bhikkhave, bhikkhu imtini catttiri ahirtijakultini mettena cittena phareyya, na hi so, bhikkhave, bhikkhu ahinti dattho ktilankareyya). The Buddha (II. 1 10) then goes on to suggest that all other monastics cultivate metta toward the four families of snakes for the purpose of guarding oneself (attaguttiyti), safeguard oneself (attarakkhaya), and protecting oneself (attaparittaTf1).

In addition to loving -kindness, the quality of truthfulness is also said to have protective powers. In the Angulimalasutta of the Majjhima Niktiya (II. 103), for example, Angulimala protects a woman and her unborn infant from a difficult labor by merely uttering the truthful statement that since he (Angulimala) became and arahant, he never intentionally deprived a living being of life.

342 JEFFREY SAMUELS

virtues are prophylactic devices in their own right. By the time of the composition of the Questions of King Milinda or the Milindapaiiha, (p. 150ff. [iv.2.I5]) for example, we find a list of six text-the Ratanasutta, Khandhaparittii, Moraparittii, Dhajaggaparittii, Atiinii{iyaparittii, and Angulimalaparittii-that are believed to have protective powers. In the same text (vs. 17), we also read that "when Pirit has been said over a man, a snake, ready to bite, will not bite him, but close his jaws-the club which robbers hold aloft to strike him with will never.strike; the enraged elephant rushing at him will suddenly stop, the malignant poison a person has eaten will become harmless, and tum to food," and so on.

lt is, most likely, a continued concern for protection, health, and wellbeing that is behind the development, growth, and popularity of protection rituals in Sri Lanka. By the time that several commentaries to the canonical collection were composed in Sri Lanka (such as the commentary to the Khuddakapii{ha [Paramatthajotikii], Dhammapada [Dhammapadatthakathii], and Dfgha Nikiiya [Sumangalaviliisini], we find yet a further elaboration on the concept of protection: prophylactic powers associated with the performance of more elaborate rituals during which paritta texts are recited. In one such story-the account of "Ayuva<;l<;lhamakumara" or the "Boy Whose Life Was Increased" from the Dhammapadatthakatha-we read how the premature death of a Brahmin boy is averted by the performance of a complex paritta ritual lasting seven days5. Prior to the actual ceremony, the boy's father is asked to construct a pavilion or mmFjapa and to place a small seat, where his son will be seated, in the middle. He is then instructed to arrange eight or sixteen chairs around the mmJrjapa, have eight or sixteen monks occupy the seats, and have the monastics chant paritta for seven days and seven nights. At the conclusion of the story we read that as a result of the paritta performance, the untimely death of the boy is averted because the demon Avaruddhaka was no longer able to seize the boy6.

5 Burlingame (1999, Part II, p. 235ff.) 6 In the commentary to the Dfgha Nikiiya-the Sumangaiaviliisinf (III.969)-there is

yet a further development in terms of paritta rituals. There, for example, we find an elaboration in terms of which texts should be recited in which order, which monastics are suitable for reciting paritta (e.g., vegetarians and those who do not live in a cemetery), which locations are suitable for the rituals, and who should prepare the ritual space.


The popularity of protection rituals is not only confined to the commentarial and medieval period? In contemporary Sri Lanka, protection rituals are an extremely common sight8• It is not unusual to hear paritta broadcasted over the loudspeakers of temples in the evening as well as see monks and novices performing protection rituals throughout the island. Most often, pal-itta is sponsored for those about to set off on a journey; about to move into a new house; about to begin a new business or job; about to open a new building, institution, or public place; about to embark on an important undertaking (such as taking an exam or undergoing a transformative rituals such as becoming a member of the Buddhist sangha), about to give birth, and so on. Several radio and television broadcasts in Sri Lanka, moreover, begin and end their daily programs with paritta chanting for ten or fifteen minutes.

The length of protection rituals vary from approximately fifteen minutes to as long as seven days and even sometimes, as Perera (2000:35, 48f.) points out, to three months or one year9• Despite the varying lengths, most protection rituals share certain elements in common. First, there is

7 There are numerous inscriptions from the medieval period pointing to the popularity of paritta. The inscription of Kassapa V (Wickremasinghe [1904:Vol. I, p. 48, line 38]), for example, states that knowledge of the pirit pota or the Book of Protection is a condition for acceptance into the order. In the inscription of Mahinda IV (Wickremasinghe, [1904:Vol. 1, p. 91, line lOf.]) as well as in the monastic injunction of Rajadhi RajasiJ11ha (Ratnapala [1971: 180]), monastics are enjoined to recite paritta daily. There are also references to paritta in the varrzsa literature, such as the Ciilavarrzsa (Geiger [1973:Chs. 37, 46, 51, 52, 73, and 87]).

8 Discussing the popularity of paritta rituals in contemporary Sri Lanka has led Lily de Silva (1981 :3) to remark that "It is not an exaggeration to say that hardly a day passes without this ceremony being performed in some form or other in almost every locality." Pertold (1923:744f.) has similarly, yet more generally, remarked that "There are regions where Pirit ceremony is supposed to be more important than other more ancient customs, e.g., patimokha. In this way the Pirit ceremony became an essential part of the modem Southern Buddhism, and especially a very important and significant power in the religious as well as secular like of the natives of Ceylon, Burma and Siam as far as they profess Buddhism."

9 In shorter paritta rituals, three texts are most commonly recited: the Mahiimangalasutta which extols thirty eight forms of auspiciousness, the Ratanasutta which is a discourse on the three jewels ([the Buddha, the dhamma, and the sangha), and the Kara/Jiyamettasutta which commends the practice of loving-kindness or metta. In longer, overnight paritta rituals, all twenty-nine suttas of the paritta collection-the Pirit Pota or the CatubhiilJavarapafi-are recited.

344 . JEFFREY SAMUELS

usually an image of the Buddha and/or relic (dhiitu) 'at hand. Also present is the doctrine or dhamma of the Buddha, represented in the fonn of a Buddhist text or manuscript. The most common text used in protection rituals is the Book of Protection or Pirit Pota which is oftentimes wrapped in a white cloth and placed on a table next to pot(s) of water. Finally, the third Buddhist jewel, the sangha, may also be presentlO, taking the form of the monastic members charged with chanting the prophylactic texts.

Before beginning most protection rituals, monks and lay sponsors work in setting up the necessary accoutrements. This includes placing the text, Buddha statue, and a pot or pots of water in their appropriate places. To facilitate the flow of protective power from the three jewels to the audience and sponsor, a string or nula is used. The nula usually travels from the Buddha, to the texts (dhamma), to the pot of water, through the palms of the chanting monks (sangha), to the audience members. After the completion of the ritual, the string is broken into small sections and either tied around the participants wrists or around their necks. For certain longer paritta rituals, such as overnight or multi-day ceremonies, a special pavilion or mal:u!apa may be constructed to house the chanting novices and monks.

A. Conceptions ofParitta Texts and Practices

No study of paritta in Sri Lanka would be complete without taking into account Lily de Silva's important study on the history of paritta, the content of paritta texts, and the performance of the ritual I I. In her monograph, de Silva posits that paritta is a "prophylactic ceremony" whose

:popularity and development grew out of a compromise that Buddhist

10 I write that they "may also be present" because protection rituals may be recited by householders (gihi pirit). Despite the growing popularity of gihi pirit, most lay people mentioned that they would rather invite monastics to perform the ritual as they believed that such rituals would be more efficacious (see below). Most often, the choice of whom to invite is based on economic and geographical factors.

II In addition to de Silva's work, this article is informed, in varying degrees, by a number of other scholars who have discussed the history and practice of paritta in Sri Lanka. Such scholars and works include Pertold (1923), Yalman (1964), Piyadassi (1975), Lynn de Silva (1980), Saddhatissa (1991), Jackson (1994), and Perera (2000).


lrionastics had to make with the laity who were, as it were, unable to lffomprehend the profound doctrines of the Buddha and who found the )harsh and inflexible doctrine of karma too overwhelming12• She writes ~(1981 :23), for instance, that "according to the theory of karma, iIi Bud'dhism the burden of responsibility for the tragedies a man has to face in lIlfe lies squarely on his own shoulders .... [1]n this set up the common man ~~eds some sort of tangible means of coping with such problems to the 1hest of his ability." P aritta rituals, for her, served and continues to serve iUns purpose of relieving the burden of responsibility for life's tragedies !Jilid obstacles.

'According to her reading of the historical development of Buddhism, :ii real tension exists between the original, other-worldly intention/ideas of ,~arly Buddhism (as it is portrayed in the Pilli canon) and the subsequent .Planifestation and development of Buddhist doctrines and practices in the :World13. She writes (1981 :23), for instance, that: "Though Buddhism found no room for ritual and ceremonialism in its lofty ethical framework, it could not altogether ignore the urgent psychological need of the '6ommon man for ritual to grapple with life's crisis." Despite the fact that, according to de Silva, the Buddha's teaching eschewed various forms of ;;'magic" referred to as the lower or animal sciences (Pili: tiracchanavijjii), she points out that the "denunciation alone was not effective to keep ~e lay public away from resorting to them" (ibid.). It was out of this sit-

12 While I am not attempting, in this article, to write a genealogy of how paritta has been understood by scholars of Buddhism, it may be of interest to point out that in a manner similar to Lily de Silva, Melford Spiro's ethnographic study of Burmese Buddhism (1982: 143f.; see also 263ff.) treats paritta as a magical or apotropaic form of Buddhism that arose in response to the common people's "irrepressible psychological need." For him, like for de Silva, paritta represents an accommodation that monastics living in the lofty world of the so-called primitive Buddhist church-and I am using Spiro's terminology here-made for the masses who were, as it were, in need of some form of relief against harsh Buddhist doctrines such as the doctrine of retribution or karma.

13 Otakar Pertold (1923:771) points to a similar tension when he states: "Taking into consideration the facts, that on one side paritta is thought as a protective device against misfortunes afflicting the human beings, and on the other side that according to the teaching of Buddha, all misfortunes are result of the human craving ... for life and continuation of the life in the circle of rebirths, which is determined by one's actions ... we must acknowledge that the Paritta is not harmonizing with the very spirit of Buddha's teaching."


uation that a "substitute" had to develop; it was paritta, de Silva maintains, that arose as a middle-way answer, thus empowering the "common man" to grapple with life's crises in a way that did not completely deny the "true" spirit of the "philosophy of early Buddhism."

II. Paritta as Loci for Knowledge: A Reconsideration of Apotropaic Buddhism

Contra de Silva's more limited conception of par itt a, Piyadassi Thera, in his translation of the Pirit Pota or The Book of Protection, suggests another way of understanding protection rituals. Through a careful analysis of the texts that figure prominently in the Pirit Pota, Piyadassi proposes that the Book of Protection may have been used as a training manual for newly ordained novices or siimal}era. He writes (1975:5):

The Book of Protection which is an anthology of selected discourses of the Buddha compiled by the teachers of old, was originally meant as a handbook for the newly ordained novice. The idea was that those novices who are not capable of studying large portions of the "Discourse Collection" (sutta pitaka) should at least be conversant with the Book of Protection .... If one patiently and painstakingly studies these discourses, he could gather a good knowledge of the essential and fundamental teaching of the Buddha.

For Piyadassi Thera, then, the Pirit Pota has a much larger place in the lives of Theravada Buddhist monastics; besides its use as a prophylactic device, paritta texts may have also functioned as a monastic handbook. Like the Siimal}era Bm:zadaham Pota used widely in contemporary monas

)ic training14, Piyadassi suggests that the Pirit Pota functioned as a way of distilling key sections of the Buddha's teachings which may have been too unwieldy to be tackled straight onl5 .

14 There are many extant editions of the SiimalJera BalJadaham Pata in contemporary Sri Lanka. The versions of the handbook that I recently encountered during my research in Sri Lanka are those edited by P3I).qita Ranjit Vanaratna (1990) and Dhamrnatilaka (1997).

15 This idea of the Vinaya being too unwieldy is also raised in Charles Hallisey's work where he writes, for instance, that as a result of finding the Vinaya too unwieldy, Theravadins "wrote diverse summaries and compendiums ... to present the Vinaya's practical message in a more manageable fashion" (1990:207).


Building on Piyadassi Thera's proposal, Anne Blackburn's recent work has addressed, at 'greater lengths, the specific question concerning' how padtta texts may have been used "outside of the ritual arena to shape h()vice monks' understanding of monastic life" (1999b:355; emphasis added). Drawing on evidence from monastic injunctions or katikavata16,

~s well as Pali (Saratthasamuccaya) and Sinhala (Sararthadfpanf) commentaries on texts that figure prominently in paritta rituals (such as the lJasasikkhapada, Dasadhammasutta, and the Karm:zfyamettasutta), Blackburn directs her attention to exploring how texts that figure in the paritta collection may be understood as tools "for the inculcation of monastic discipline." In turning to certain PilIi commentaries-such as the Saratthasamuccaya which was written during the DambadeI,li period-Blackburn focuses on the processes by whichparitta is appropriated "as a form of religious practice that deserved careful monastic consideration" (1999b:362) and, thereby, illustrates how the "connection betweenparitta recitation and desirable monastic practice" (363) may have been made17.

Through a close study of Valivita SaraI,larpkara's Sinhala Sararthadipanf, Blackburn reveals how SaraI,larpkara was also able to transform paritta mto "a teaching tool for novitiate education" (365). Thus, ill lieu of de Silva's more limited conception of paritta as "a sop to ill-educated lay people," Blackburn's very careful study of the Saratthasamuccaya and the Sararthadfpanf leads her to deduce that "Through the composition of

. commentaries for the paritta collection, monastic leaders in the thirteenth and eighteenth centuries ... transformed the paritta texts themselves into evocative and specific guidelines for the formation of distinctive monastic behaviors: disciplined comportment, scholarly inquiry, and medita-

, tion" (365) ..

16 For a fuller discussion and translation of the monastic injunctions or katikiivata in Sri Lanka, see Ratnapala.

17 Blackburn (1999b:362) writes, for instance, that "Relatively soon after the promulgation of the Darpbader,ri Katikil.vata, another step was taken to bring the practice of pariua tightly within the embrace of systematic and authoritative monastic education. This occurred through the composition of a Pili commentary on the collection of texts used in paritta recitation. The commentary, called Siiratthasamuccaya (Collection of essential meaning), ... took a radically new approach to paritta, ... drawing the practice of paritta more clearly into the realm of desirable and ascetic monastic practice."

348 JEFFREY SAMUELS

ill. Learning Paritta and Paritta Performance: A Reconsideration of Protection Rituals in Sri Lankan Monastic Education

Building on Piyadassi Thera's and Anne Blackburn's work, the remainder of this article offers yet another way to interpret paritta as a tool for the training of Buddhist novices. Through an investigation of how novices are taught about correct paritta performance-particularly how to attract the hearts/minds (hita iidaganna) of the laity when perform~g parittathis article suggests one of the ways that monastic learning may be related to texts while, at the same time, not necessarily based on or limited to the information contained in texts. By looking at the contexts in which ideas about correct paritta performance become transmitted to novices, this article contends that learning to engage paritta texts performatively within the ritual arena may be also intimately tied to the formation of distinctive monastic behaviors by providing novices with opportunities and occasions to learn about, reflect on, and embody ideas about appropriate monastic behavior, demeanor, and discipline.

In order to illustrate this process, I will, in the remaining sections, first tum to a brief examination of the practices and settings in which novices are trained in memorization and correct paritta performance. That discussion will then be followed by an exploration of the relationship that exists between correct ritual performance and acquiring an understanding of what constitutes ideal monastic demeanor, behavior, and attitudes, or the connection between textual performance and ideas about who is an ideal member of the Theravada Buddhist sangha for novices or samalJ,era living in contemporary Sri Lanka.

IV. Learning Paritta: Monastic Settings and Practices

Learning paritta and paritta performance largely occurs through a twofold process: A) in monastic schools (pirivelJ,a) and ancillary groups and B) in more informal communities of learning and practice. Through the former, novices work toward memorizing the texts as well as learn how to pronounce the texts' words. Through the latter, novices gradually come to an understanding and appreciation of the aesthetics of paritta performance, defmed in the context of Sri Lanka as "attracting the heart/mind (hita iidaganlma)."


A. Pirivel}a Education

One important component to learning paritta texts and their performance is, of course, memorizing the necessary texts. While it is not uncommon to see novices working individually to memorize texts (especially during the morning and evening hours when other monastic commitments are reduced), memorization (katapiidaf!l) work is often first tackled in monastic schools or pirivelJas. In several pirivelJas I had the opportunity to spend considerable time in Sri Lanka, the texts and verses were oftentimes recited line by line by a teacher, and repeated, line by line, by the students in unison. Through this more formal method of learning, the students gradually came to memorize the texts. Their pronunciation was also corrected in the process.

Alongside repeating the paritta texts with their teachers, novices practiced reciting the texts in smaller groups of similar level students. During these so-called wat pirit periods, which usually occurred in the evenings and during the weekend, each novice was given the opportunity to recite large sections of paritta texts from memory while having any mispronunciations corrected by the group. Through engaging paritta in pirivel}a classes and during wat pirit periods, effort was not only directed toward memorizing the actual words; novices also learned where to break up Pilii sandhi so as to not change the words' meaning, as well as how and when to stretch the Pilii syllables.

B. Communities of Learning and Practice

Another important dimension of learning paritta is acquiring an understanding of how best to perform the texts in a ritual context. Oftentimes, this type of learning occurs in more informal "communities oflearners"18 where novices acquire a growing understanding about what constitutes an aesthetic ritual performance or a performance that attracts the hearts of the audience by peripherally participating in the ritual's performance19. While pirivelJa classes provide the opportunity for novices to repeat texts line by line, and while wat pirit groups allow novices the chance to test

18 The idea of communities of learning is developed Anna Gade's (2004) recent work on Qur'amc Schools in contemporary Indonesia.

19 The idea of peripheral participation is discussed by Lave and Wenger (1991) in their text on situated learning.

350 JEFFREY SAMUELS

their memory by reciting large sections of texts in front of their peers, learning about the aesthetics of ritual performance takes place through what Jean Lave and Etienne Wenger (1991) have called "legitimate peripheral participation."

When I asked the head monk and deputy head monk (anuniiyaka) of one of the temples where I conducted research, for instance, how they teach novices about the various dimensions of proper paritta performance, they repeatedly made reference to a type of learning ·that OCCurs through peripherally participating in communities of practitioners. By listening to and watching the ritual being performed, they declared, novices become immersed in the complete world of paritta performance and, thus, gradually acquire a firsthand understanding what constitutes pleasing paritta. In the words of the head monk: "The others are directed to go and listen. They listen to how it is done. From that, they learn." Participating in such groups was also brought up by one novice who, in discussing how he carne to learn paritta, said: "Actually I learned those things by watching. Mter being here for some time, I saw how the others do it. Even when I go out from this temple, I learn by watching the others."2o Another novice explained a similar way he learnt to recite pirit in recounting his experiences while living in another temple in Sri Lanka: "When I was at Kurunagala, I learned pirit from a layperson who was eighty years old. He recited gihi pirit often. There was another monk there too. I learned to recite pirit while sitting between both of them. Then they taught me the whole pirit book. I got used to reciting the way that they recited. I learnt in that very way. Now I am able [to recite it on my own]."

One important pedagogical tool employed in these practice communities is mimicry. The head monk, for instance, in speaking about the role that imitating plays in learning about the proper performance of paritta texts, succinctly said: "They learn by imitating (abhasaya) the others." The deputy head monk (who is also the principal of the local monastic

20 It is quite interesting that while the head monk suggested that novices learn by listening, the novice remarked how he learnt by watching. While it may be possible to read too much into this difference, it may be indirectly related to the fact that a large majority of novices trained in paritta are unaware of the actual meaning of the PaIi texts. For a further discussion of this, see Samuels (2004:961).


college or pirive1}a), raised a similar point when I asked him how he trains new novices' in correct paritta performance:

We teach those things through practical training. For reciting pirit, we .don't put two untrained young monks (porji siidhus) together. We put them together with an older one who is experienced. Then, we send them for about ten pirit ceremonies. When one goes, we put him with another one who is at the same level. Those two are trained with the older monks saying "It should be like this. It should be like this." During the practical training period, we stop to allow them to recite alone. After they have had the experience from going to ten pirit ceremonies, we might stop reciting altogether saying "we need to get a drink of water." Then they read ten or fifteen pages [alone].

Just like the "peripheral participation" model that Lave and Wenger (1991) discuss and which is based on relationships made between "newcomers" and "old-timers," training novices in what constitutes pleasing paritta is accomplished through establishing learning communities where newcomers to the sangha are compelled to forge practice-based relationships with older, more experienced monks. It is through these practice communities in which knowledge is transmitted orally/aurally that the distance between the learner and what is learned is narrowed and, in some cases, even collapsed21 •

21 It may even be argued that when learning is approached through a course of reading and studyiug, the distance between the learning and the object learned is much greater. This poiut, iu fact, is well stated iu Susan Schwartz's study of rasa theory iu Hinduism, particularly how students learn to perform the divine, where she (2004:5) writes:

Accounts regardiugthe ancient guru-shisha-parampara system iudicate that the student (shishya) lived with the guru (teacher) both to serve and to learn the tradition (parampara) . ... Sources often maintain that very little talkiug was done. Rather, the guru would provide, iu measured doses, lessons by example, which the student would absorb, copy, and rehearse until the teacher was satisfied. The atruosphere iu which teachiug and learning took place was oral/aural/kiuesthetic .... If we are to understand the performing arts iu India, however, this is one aspect that must be grasped. A distanciug occurs between the student and the knowledge to be gaiued when the mode of transmission is the written word. The physical distance between the eye and the page is symbolic of a greater distance between the learning and the learned. However, when the transmission is experienced physically, as sound enters iuto the body through the hears and movement is physically iuternalized, it is more active, more engaged, and it is iuunediate, that is, unmediated. Those who learn physically learn differently, and experience their knowledge differently as well. It becomes iugested, becomes, like food, part of the one's cell structure. When the guru shows, rather than tells, absorption by the student is of a different quality altogether.

352 JEFFREY SAMUELS

v. Proper Ritual Performance and Proper Monastic Deportment: Generating Monastic Identities through Ritual Performance

The idea that novices learn about paritta perfol1llance through a more participatory process of watching and mimicking may appear so obvious so as to not need stating. At the same time, however, what is particularly valuable about drawing on Lave and Wenger's idea of legitimate peripheral participation in discussing how novices gain an und~rstanding of pleasing paritta perfol1llance is not only that it demands a consideration of other ways that monastics leam22, but also that it connects one's involvement in practice groups with "full participation in the socio-cultural practices of a community" (Lave and Wenger [1991 :29]). Put differently, when we examine how newcomers to the sangha learn about paritta perfol1llance through a legitimate peripheral participation lens or framework, we become better able to appreciate and understand how the very participation in these practice communities (e.g., the community paritta practitioners) draws newcomers toward the full participation in the wider spheres of Theravada Buddhist monastic culture and practice. The remainder pf this article will focus on this by exploring how learning paritta through observing and mimicking provides novices with a more tangible understanding of, and an effective opportunity to reflect upon, what constitutes A) proper monastic appearance, B) ideal behavior, C) and appropriate mental states.

A. Physical Appearance

When I asked one fourteen year old novice who had already participated in several short protection (set pirit) rituals to describe to me what he considers a good paritta perfol1llance to be (honda pirit kiyanne mokadda?), it was surprising to [rod that his response largely focused on his appearance and demeanor as a member of the Buddhist sangha. He said: "According to our lineage (nikiiya), the robe has to cover both shoul-

22 For instance, when we take into account the role that these infonnal yet intentional communities play in the learning process, the focus shifts from "the individual as learner to learning as participating in the social world, and from the concept of cognitive process to the more encompassing view of social activity" Lave and Wenger; cited in Gade (2004: 123).


'ders. Then, we should speak well to the people. The head and face should be shaven. Then we should walk according to a method/in a straight line. 'rhere is a procedure (piliviila)-we have to have a bath, then we have to ;shave our head and face, then we have to go beautifully in order to attract 'the people's hita." What was revealing about his reply was that training ''in "paritta had more to do than simply learning how to recite the suttas' words with a proper cadence (talaya) and in a melodious/sweet (mihiri) manner. Indeed, learning paritta presented him with the opportunity to learn about, reflect on, and, eventually, embody the very ideas about what constitutes proper monastic appearance.

One reason why learning how to perform paritta may provide novices with an occasion to learn about and reflect upon what constitutes ideal inonastic appearance is because of the relationship that was commonly drawn between the ritual's outcome and the ability of the ritual's performers to please the hearts/minds of the laity. For many novices who have performed numerous paritta rituals or who were in the process of learning to perform the ritual, a good or efficacious ritual was equated with their (the reciters') ability to attract the hearts/minds of the laity. Discussing with me his vision of how paritta works, the novice who took higher ordination or upasampadii during the summer of 2004 said: "Pirit has to be recited to attract people's heart/mind (hita) .... With that, the people's hita becomes pleased. Happiness comes to the people's hita. As the hita becomes influenced by everything, blessings and peace (seta-santiya) come to the people."

In addition to this novice who mentioned, in a more general manner, the need for pleasing the laity when performing paritta, several other novices and monks made more direct connections between pleasing the hearts and minds of those attending a paritta performance and the physical appearance of the reciters. While it is true that several of them made reference to how the pirit's words have an inherent power to them (literally: vag saktiya)23, a number of novices focused more specifically on the reciters' physical appearance in characterizing an efficacious paritta. In the words of one eighteen year old novice: "While reciting the pirit, if the reciter is not pleasing ... then the listener would feel disgusted while

23 'This point will be discussed below.

354. JEFFREY SAMUELS

there [at the ritual]. Then it will not be pirit that he is listening to. If one listens to pirit with a proper attitude (akalpa) , then only will the pirit have power. If he is disgusted with the monk, it [i.e., the pirit] won't work." .

A number of other novices' and monks' portrayals of efficacious paritta performance included discussions about the physical appearance and disciplined comportment of the monk-participants. The novice who took upasampada during the summer of 2004 drew such a relationship when comparing pirit chanted by monastics with gihi pirit or pirit chanted by lay people:

It is more important to see monks chanting pirit than lay people. Monks have nicely worn robes. They have shaven heads. With a proper demeanor, a monk becomes a pleasing image. He is beautiful to the eye. He should also have a sweet/melodious (mihiri) voice and he should properly pronounce the words24• Wearing a robe well, with a shaven head, and a shaven face, one looks like a proper monk. Then, as they listen and see things that are pleasing, their hita becomes concentrated/directed (yomuvenevii).

As people's hearts/minds (hita) are more likely to be attracted to and even "hypnotized/entranced" (mohanaya) by the appearance of members of the sangha who maintain a proper demeanor, paritta recited by monastics is, according to him, more powerful and efficacious than pirit recited by lay people.

24 This idea of the need for pirit to be recited with a melodious voice is something that this monk returned to in a later conversation; he said:

When pirit is recited with a sweet (mihiri) voice and the reciters stop in the correct places and properly pronounce the words, then the listener becomes hypnotized! seduced/fascinated (mohanaya) and keeps listening .... Our heart becomes particularly concentrated to it (i.e., the pirit) through hearing (iisfma), looking (biilfma), and thinking (sitfma). We are listening to something beautiful. We can see the image (pratirilpaya) of a bhikkhu which is placed in the heart. The thing that we are listening to is beautiful (lassaIJa) and sweet (mihiri). The thing that we are seeing is also sweet and beautiful and pleasing/attractive/delightful (piyakaru). These things gather into the hita through listening and seeing .... The other thing is that pirit is famous in the world as something good. If everything is good and pleasing, then our hita becomes focused in that direction. That is what seduced/fascinated/hypnotized (mohanaya) means. Once it is recited in a way that is smooth and soft, we listen because it is sweet. We ignore a crow that caws a lot yet we listen to the cuckoo bird singing.

Although this novice made reference to the sweetness of the reciters' voices, it is important to note that he and many other novices and monks correlated a sweet voice to one that is harsh/coarse (gorosu) and deep (giimburu), rather than one that is more musical.


:Just as novices may come to learn about the importance of wearing their :~nder and upper Tobes evenly around them (parimm:uJalarrz niviises;~iirni/piirupissiimi'ti), of traveling in inhabited areas well-covered [iiupa!icchanno antaraghare gamissiimi'ti), and of sitting in inhabited :;~eas well-covered (supaticchanno antaraghare nisidissiimi'ti) by study~ing the seventy-five training or sekhiya rules and other texts (such as the $asadhammasutta)25 commonly used in the training of novices in contemporary Sri Lanka, so too do novices gain an understanding of what constitutes proper monastic appearance through learning paritta. As a result bf the connection expressed between pleasing the hearts/minds of the tmty, the monastics' physical appearance and demeanor, and the ritual's :power or outcome, paritta becomes a powerful pedagogical tool in, and important complement to, a novice's training. While it is true that novices ~lso come to learn about appropriate appearance by reading texts, attending piriver.za classes, and participating in the nightly instructional (avaviida) sessions with the temple's head monk, the seriousness with :which paritta performance is approached provides those very same students with a more pressing need to reflect upon ideal images of monastic deportment, thus enabling them to acquire a more tangible and immediate understanding of what constitutes perfect monastic appearance .

. B. Proper Monastic Behavior

Another issue sometimes raised in conjunction with discussions about paritta is monastic behavior. Conversations with novices and head monks revealed a profound appreciation of how their own behavior as members

25 In the Dasadhammasutta, monastics are encouraged to reflect on how their appearance and behavior differs from the appearance and behavior of lay people. The third of the ten dhamma listed in the Dasadhammasutta is "anna me iikappa karmJ.iya Ii pabbajitena abhil}ha7f1 paccavekkhitabba" which translates as "One who has gone forth should continually reflect 'for me there are other actions/duties and appearance/deportment''' (translation mine). According to Saral).aIpkara's commentary on this text, the Buddha intended the study and recitation of this sutta as a way of preventing regression in Buddhist practice. Making reference to Saral).aIpkara's commentary on the Dasadhammasutta, Anne Blackburn (1999b:370) writes: "With these thoughts in mind the monk is pushed to investigate carefully the state of his internal and external conduct, keeping in view the distinctive demands of the monastic life and the challenge to move beyond the experience of karma, rebirth, and suffering."

356 JEFFREY SAMUELS

of the sangha affects the attendees of the ritual and; in tum, the ritual's outcome. One eighteen year old novice often called upon to perfonn shorter (set pirit) and longer (mahapirit) protection rituals expressed to me the need for monastics to act appropriately. Describing what he considers proper monastic behavior to be, he explained:

He has to recite it by only looking at the pirit text. He should not lOok around. He should not look at the people. People will be displeased if they see that the monk is looking around. The monk has to work in a way that pleases them .... When we go to recite pirit, if the householder is not displeased with us, his hita will be attracted to the pirit. If the pirit is chanted to bless the householder and his house, we should think, 'may the householder receive peace.' Then, the householder will be grabbed by us.

A frfteen year old novice who had already participated in several shorter pirit rituals used our discussion of the ritual as an opportunity to reflect in a more tangible manner upon what he understood ideal monastic behavior to be:

When pirit is recited, there has to be a sense of calm. When our teacher is seated, he doesn't shake even his legs. Seated like that, one has to recite it with an appropriate cadence (talaya), that means, recite it in a nOTIlla! way and beautifully .... If we behave in an agitated way among the people, they might feel disgusted .... We have to be restrained (saizvaraya) when the exhortation (anusasanaya) is made. During that time, we should not be chatting with the other monks ... [and] we should not be resting our heads on our palms or fall asleep. That is a mistake. The people will become fed up .... They will be fed up with listening to pirit too.

By talking about the ideal paritta behavior exhibited by his own teacher and by comparing those images with less pleasing reflections of monastic behavior, this novice was able to reflect upon in a very concrete manner how monastics should act. What was particularly salient about his discussion is how pressing the need for monastics to act appropriately became when viewed through the lens of paritta performance. As a result of the connection that both novices drew between "grabbing (allagannava)" the laity, the ritual's success, and the reciters' behavior, paritta became a useful staging ground where ideas about how monastics should conduct themselves were communicated to, leamed by, reflected upon, and embodied by the ritual's participants.


Ris worthwhile to note that many of the novices' reflections on appropriate and pleasing paritta behavior are very similar to canonical portrayals of ideal monastic conduct. In the training or sekhiya rules that are familiar to monks (bhikkhu) and novices (samwJera)26, for example, we read that monastics should go about with downcast eyes (okkhitacakkhu antaraghare gamissamz'ti), should sit with downcast eyes (okkhittacakkhu iantaraghare niszdissamf'ti), should sit with little sounds (appasaddo antaraghare niszdissiimi'ti), should not sit while shaking the body (na kiiyappacalakarJl antaraghare nisfdissiiml'ti) or swaying the arms (bahuppacalakarJl), should not sit while shaking or bobbing one's head (na szsappaciilakarJl antaraghare niszdissami'ti), and so on. Just as monks and novices are able to arrive at understandings of proper monastic behavior through reading texts (such as the sekhiya rules) that provide specific iJ1structions on how to act, so too do newcomers to the sangha learn about ideal behavior through more diffuse processes such as learning and performing paritta. By observing, mimicking, and performing, paritta becomes a useful device whereby images of ideal monastic behavior and appearance are transmitted to and instilled in newcomers to the sangha. In the words of one novice who recently attended his first pirit: "If we behave in an agitated way among the people, they will feel disgusted. When we recite pirit, we should behave in a pleasing way that generates the attitudes that we are monastics" (emphasis mine).

C. Positive Mental States and Attitudes

Yet a third way in which training in paritta and paritta performance may be understood as tool for monastic education concerns ideas about what constitutes appropriate attitudes and mental states. When I asked the head mon1e from one of the temples where I conducted research how paritta works, he began with a short discussion of the power inherent in

26 Although the seventy-five sekhiya make up part of the 227 rules that apply to fully ordained monks, novices in Sri Lanka are taught the sekhiya rules as part of their novitiate training. This is not only evidenced in the inclusion of the rules in the most commonlyused monastic handbooks for novices in Sri Lanka-the Siimal}era Bal}adaham Pota (Vanaratna 1990 and Dhammatilaka 1997)-but also in the inclusion of these rules as part of the second grade curriculum undertaken in primary monastic schools or mulika pirivel}a (Hettiaracci 1994).


words (vag saktiya): "There is a power in words (vag saktiya). It is scientifically accepted by the world. There is the power in words. Power in words means that we have been saying 'May you be well, may you be well, may you be well (suva pat Vt1Va)' for a long time. We do it without a bad heart/mind (hita). We say suvapat Vt1Va even when someone Who hates us worships us. It is more powerful for us to say suvapat vaeva than just an ordinary person." Continuing his point about vag saktiya, the head monk went on to draw a distinction between paritta recited by monks and by lay people (gihi pirit):

Lay people's minds are inclined toward secular things. They are weighed toward secular things. Though a bhikkhu may be worldly, he is not as inclined toward the secular. He is slightly away from it. That means that lack of desire is there ....

Now, let's say that one has built a new house and lay people were invited to recite pirit. Now, the lay people may think "Wow (sha)! They built such a beautiful house. My house is not that good. How did he build [such a beautiful house]." For them, jealousy arises. Thirst (ta1}ha) also arises.

When we go there, we feel happy thinking "Oh (ane). Our patron (dayaka mahattaya) has built a good house. It is great. May he develop more in the future." We bless him. We don't have a wish of owning that house or of living in that house. We feel happy in that situation. We bless him with compassion (karu1}ava) and friendliness (maitrf) and wish him to develop further.

While acknowledging that a type of power (saktiya)-Dr "current" as another head monk described while pointing to the florescent lamps over our heads--exists in the paritta' s words, the head monk nonetheless went on to relate his notion of vag saktiya to the mental states. of the paritta's reciters27• By vocalizing such a connection, the head monk transfonned

27 This is quite different from the conclusion that Christopher Pinney (1997: 166-67; quoted in Rotman [2003:559]) arrives at based on a discussion he had with one of his informants (Tiwari) about the efficacy of a six-sentence mantra invoking Paramaharpsji:

The great appeal of the technique-and this is what Tiwari continually stresses-is that faith or belief is not necessary, desires will be fulfilled without belief (bina vishvas). The analogies that tumble forth from Tiwari's lips are all grounded in a technological world in which all that matters is effect: "Suppose that you want to use some electric power-you make a connection, fit your tube light, lay the wiring, provide a switch, connect this to the overhead wires. If the power is available, the tube is fine, the wiring is fine, the switch is fine, the tube light will come on-(chalega!)-with belief or without belief" -he flicked his thumb to and fro as though switching the current on and off.


paritta into a potept tool for teaching novices about what constitutes positive mental states· for members of the Buddhist sangha: compassion, friendliness, desirelessness, and non-jealousy or sympathetic joy (mudita).

This understanding of the relationship between efficacious paritta and the reciters' mental states was, not surprisingly, echoed by a number of novices training in or trained in proper paritta performance. One such novice, sharing with me his characterization of powerful paritta, said: "The reciter should have compassion (karwJ.ava), loving kindness/friendliness (maitri), sympathy (dayava), and pity (anukampava). The reciter should have the thought: 'I am reciting this [pirit] to make him well. May the listener be well through my recitation. May he be welL' Those kinds of feelings must certainly be there. They have to be there when reciting [pirit] in order to give power to him (i.e., the recipient of the pirit)." The novice who recently took higher ordination mentioned a similar point when he related the mental states of the reciters to the power of the ritual: "If he is a monk, he should feel compassion (karwJ.ava) and sympathy (dayava) toward the people. Monks should have a kind heart and bless the people thinking 'may people get blessing and peace from the power of the pirit.' Then the people will receive positive results."

Similar to learning about what constitutes positive mental states for members of the sangha through reading such texts as the Dasadhammasutta, the Karaniyamettasutta, the Mangalasutta, and the Ratanasutta, leaming paritta provides novices with the opportunity to learn about and internalize ideal mental states. By linking understandings of successful paritta to the mental states of the ritual's performers, the need to cultivate such qualities as compassion, selflessness, friendliness, sympathy, and desirelessness takes on an added salience. As one novice currently training to perform paritta noted: "There are some monks who receive money; it is not good to think about receiving money while reciting pirit. Without greed and hatred, [but rather] with thoughts of bringing good to the

To produce surges of electricity in one's own life all that was required was the utterance of six sentences.

In using Pinney's example in discussing the role of prasada (faith, graciousness, or serene joy) in making merit, Andy Rotman (2003) places more importance on the mental states of the actors in determining the efficacy of an act than is suggested in Pinney's description.

360 JEFFREY SAMUELS

people, they should recite (pirit] without expecting 'money. It has to be done with a good hita. It is not good to recite it with a bad hita. Then, it would have no value .... Then the people would not receive any bless_ ings. "28

VI. Generating Identities through Textual Performance: A Reevalu_ ation of Paritta in Sri Lankan Monastic Life

The foregoing discussion provides a glimpse into how learning paritta instills in novices the very infonnation contained in monastic disciplinary texts and handbooks. Although much of the conversations with novices and monks about successful protection rituals pertained to the ritual itself-i.e., how they dressed, behaved, and thought while perfonning paritta--exchanges with several novices also intimated how the ideals learned through paritta perfonnance shape and affect other dimensions of their lives as members of the sangha, including, possibly, their reading and interpretation of the very texts employed in their monastic education29•

The fourteen year old novice who defined successful paritta as one that is perfonned by monastics wearing their robe in a way that covers both shoulders, speaking well to the people, and shaving their heads and faces, began to reflect further with me about how his very ideas of proper

28 One eighteen year old stimalJera made reference to the quality of equanimity or upekkha when he discussed with me how monastics reciting pirit should remain unaffected by the physical surroundings of the place where the paritta is being performed: "Recently, we went for a pirit to the village of Ambavatta. It was near a place where pigs were slaughtered. It stacie We were not upset, though. My heart/mind (hita) was not upset. ... If I am asked to recite pirit, I do it regardless of the sponsor or the place."

29 Anne Blackburn, in fact, raised a similar point about the circularity of monastic training, particularly how other facets of monastic training impinge upon how novices read texts, when she wrote (2001:148): "These characteristics of monastic life inevitably affected the manner in which monastic students read and interpreted the texts before them, and especially those which touched on matters of monastic discipline. Although it is impossible to write with complete assurance on such matters, it seems reasonable to suspect that monastic students responded more sharply to images of proper and improper monasticism because they already participated in a lifestyle designed to discipline themselves" (emphasis added).


paritta apply more widely to his life as a Buddhist monastic. After noting, for example, how important it is for monks and novices to please the laity by their appearance and behavior while reciting paritta, he went on to add: "Monks should go everywhere with shaven heads, with shaven beards, and with a clean physical appearance. Then only will people be pleased about monks. Then only will people listen to monks with accompanying feelings of trust." For him, ideas about how to attract or please fuehearts/minds of the laity as well as the urgent need to do so was not solely confined to the perfonnance of paritta; instead, they affected and impinged upon the very manner in which he understood his role and place in society as a member of the sangha.

Conversations with other novices pointed to a similar connection made between proper appearance and behavior while performing paritta and their lives as Buddhist monastics outside of the ritual arena. After discussing how those perfonning aparitta ritual should "grab the heart" by .their proper behavior and appearance, one novice went on to draw a relationship between appropriate ritual behavior and life in the temple:

First, the householder comes to the temple and invites the monks. The porji siidhus (young novices) in the temple should behave well when the householder comes to invite us. They should not be playing at that time .... When we go to recite pirit, if the householder is not displeased with us, his heart/mind (hita) will be attracted to the pirit .... When he comes to invite us, we should behave well. At that time, some monks from other temples ask for cigarettes. We should not think and act like that. When we go for an [overnight] pirit, all we need are some drinks [gilanpasa] and a place to rest.

For this eighteen year old novice, the behavior and mental states of monastics in the temple are closely tied to the total experience of the audience and householder. The laity's experiences are not simply confined to the actual perfonnance of the ritual itself; instead, they include much wider circles wherein lay people and monastics interact. According to his understanding, monastics not acting appropriately or living with desire for such things as cigarettes in the temple may adversely affect the laity's experience of Buddhism and, thus, impinge upon the outcome of the ritual itself. For him, monastics should always work toward acting and think-


ing in ways that are conducive to the state of being a monk (mahar.zakama)30.

VIT. Conclusion

In learning to perform paritta texts in their appropriate ritual context, novices come to understand much more than simply how to recite texts melodiously, how to break up the Piili sandhi, and how to stretch the Piili syllables. Through engaging paritta texts in piriver.za classes' and in more informal communities of learning and practice, novices gradually arrive at an understanding of how paritta works, what constitutes an efficacious paritta, and how to attract or please the hearts/minds of the laity inside and outside of the ritual arena.

In teaching novices about what constitutes an ideal, successful, and pleasing protection ritual, paritta becomes much more than a sop to ill-

30 Despite the fact that several novices mentioned how learning paritta affects their lives beyond the ritual space, it is important, nonetheless, to bear in mind that acquiring an understanding of what constitutes ideal appearance, behavior, and mental states in no way transformed the novices into monastic robots or passive "cultural dopes" whose lives are solely and statically modeled upon textual (Vinaya) and/or cultural images ideal monastic behavior. While it may be true that a number of novices gained a greater understanding about appropriate behavior, speech, attire, and mental states through learning to perform paritta, many of the same novices were also able to intuit and vocalize how acceptable behavior and dress are oftentimes based on particular contexts as well as on the dynamic relationship that exists between monks, novices, and lay people.

The notion of "cultural dopes" is drawn from Ann Swidler's discussion of strategies of action (see also GarfInkel [1967] and Wrong [1961]). In discussing how ritual provides its performers with a variety of strategies of action, Swidler (1986:284) remarked: "Strategies of action are cultural products; the symbolic experiences, mythic lore, and ritual practices of a group or society create moods and motivations, ways of organizing experience and evaluating reality, modes of regulating conduct, and ways of forming social bonds, which provide resources for constructing strategies of action" (emphasis added). Despite her reference to moods and motivations which, I believe, is drawn from Clifford Gerrtz's work on "Religion As a Cultural System," Swidler's conception of culture, myth, and symbol is much more dynamic than that proposed by Geertz when he writes (1973: 112):

It is in some sort of ceremonial form-even if that form be hardly more than the recitation of a myth, the consultation of an oracle, or the decoration of a grave-that the moods and motivations which sacred symbols induce in men and the general conceptions of the order of existence which they formulate for men meet and reinforce one another. In ritual, the world as lived and the world as imagined, fused under a single set of symbolic forms, tum out to be the same world, producing thus that idiosyncratic transformation in one's sense of reality.


educated lay people or a coping device for the common layman or laywoman seeking relief from the harsh doctrine of karma. By drawing connections between pleasing the hearts/minds of the laity, the monastics' physical appearance and behavior, and the ritual's power, paritta becomes transformed into a powerful pedagogical tool in, and important complement to, a novice's training. To put it somewhat differently and to restate

. and slightly modify Anne Blackburn's thesis mentioned in section II, through a process of watching, mimicking, and performing, monastic leaders are able to transform paritta into powerful pedagogical tools oriented toward the socialization and training of young monastics.

As I have argued above, paritta is not the only component to novitiate training in contemporary Sri Lanka. Indeed, monastics come to learn about what constitutes ideal behavior, deportment, and mental states through engaging a whole repertoire of monastic practices and duties

. (e.g., textual study, attending evening advice sessions, and so on). Despite the fact that learning paritta comprises only one dimension of a much larger pedagogical tool kit, its role in monastic educational culture is by no means insignificant. By paying attention to the pedagogical role that paritta plays in contemporary Sri Lanka, we become not only more appreciative of other ways in which images of ideal monasticism become transmitted to and embodied by novices, but also more aware of how rituals provide novices with the occasions, tools, and capacity to reflect on the content of the very texts employed in their training, including the texts found in the Pirit Pota or Book or Protection.

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THE VAGRANT POET AND THE RELUCTANT SCHOLAR:

A STUDY OF THE BALANCE OF ICONOCLASM AND CIVILITY IN

THE BIOGRAPIDCAL ACCOUNTS OF TWO FOUNDERS OF

THE 'BRUG PA BKA' BRGYUD LINEAGES

W. BLYTHE MILLER

I. Introduction

In his history of Buddhism, The Sun that Causes the Lotus of the Teaching to Bloom (chos 'byung bstan pa'i padma rgyas pa'i nyin byecI), the prolific sixteenth century Tibetan scholar Padma Karpo (pad ma dkar po, 1527-1592) declared that many followers of the Kagyu (bka' rgyucI) tradition, a Tibetan lineage tracing a common pedigree through Gampopa back to the north Indian siddhas Tilopa, Saraha, and Maitripa, have for centuries misconstrued the name of their lineage. In Kagyu sources of the Kamtsang (Karh tshang) and Drikung ('bri gung) transmissions, the word bka' that forms the first syllable of the term Kagyu is spelled in a way that conveys the meaning "word", "instruction" or "command"l. With this gloss, Kagyu means "instruction lineage", a label so non-specific it must have vexed even the most accommodating Kagyu morphologists. Padma Karpo, for his part, insisted that bka' is a misnomer for dkar, which means white2• Rightly speaking, according to Padma Karpo, Kagyu is not the "instruction lineage" but rather the "white lineage", alluding to the cotton meditation garment worn by some hermetic yogis of this tradition, most famously by the yogi and poet

1 "Generally" is a most unsatisfying qualifier. Tracking down first appearance(s) of the term bka' rgyud in literary sources as a referent to Gampopa's legacy of lineages is an important bit of research that needs to be done. By the fourteenth century, the term must have been in use as the Third Karmapa Rangjung Dorje (rang 'byung rdo rje, 1284-1339) used it in his compositions

2 See Jampa Thaye, A Garland of Gold: The Early Kagyu Masters in India and Tibet (Bristol: Ganesha Press, 1990). p. 97.


370 . W. BLYTHE MILLER

Milarepa3• This garment is steeped in symbolic value for adherents of this lineage: those who wear it ideally ascribe to the life of a wandering ascetic who begs for food, lives in mountain hermitages and vows only to wear one cotton garment4.

While Padma Karpo's epistemological defense seems to have fallen short of panoptic success, as many Kagyu sects-including some later hierarchs of Padma Karpo's own Druk Cbrug) sect-now use the spelling bka' rgyud, his commentary highlights the lasting emphasis this lineage has placed since its inception on an ascetic and peripatetic lifestyle, nonelaborate meditation, solitude and withdrawal from public affairs. In con- . cert with a number of factors including geographical isolation, close connections to siddha doha literature, loose or even antagonistic ties with institutional norms, a soteriology of naturalness (mahiimudrii), and a mode of composition called nmyam gur (creative songs of experience) this tradition was initially fairly tolerant of individual expression and unconventional behavior. Yet since the beginning of the 12th century, when Gampopa (sgam po pa, 1079-1135) synthetically organized this lineage into something resembling a full-fledged religious tradition with a strong monastic bent, many of its prominent apostles were increasingly influenced from within by ecclesiastical demands and from without by pressure to compete with the other religious traditions burgeoning during the Renaissance period5. By the 12th century, the Kagyus were actively

3 Milarepa (mid la ras pa, 1052-1135) accepted a name indicative of these garments. The second part of his name ras pa means "the cotton-clad one".

4 Ascetics of this type are reffered to in Kagyu literature as ras pa (pronounced "repa"), and their lifestyle and practices are outlined in texts belonging of the ras rgyud, "the lineage of repas" initiated by Milarepa and his disciple Rechungpa (ras chung pa, 1082-1161), but probably formalized by Rechungpa's disciple Zhang Lotsawa (zhang 10 tsa ba, 1123-1193).

5 The periodization of the Tibetan Renaissance used by some scholars including Deborah Klimburg-Salter, David Germano, and historian Ronald Davidson, is 950-1238. In support for applying the term "renaissance" to this exhuberant and fecund moment of Tibetan history, Ronald Davidson forwards a model from systems analysis called "punctuated equilibrium". In a renaissance, "civilization can appear to compress phenomenal development into an incredibly short span of time-a veritable burst of sociopolitical, economic, artistic, intellectual, literary, and spiritual activity." For a more complete discussion of the term "renaissance" in this context see Ronald M. Davidson, Tibetan Renaissance: Tantric Buddhism in the rebirth o/Tibetan culture (New York: Columbia University Press, 2005), p. 20-21.This period is marked on one end by the approximate beginning of the estab-

THE VAGRANT POET AND THE RELUCTANT SCHOLAR 371

llnvolved in founding anchored communities, forging connections with ;iocal officials and patrons, investing more time in group ritual practices, :and even going to war. Over time, all the Kagyu lineages would be dom'inated and perpetuated by ecclesiastical corporations, conglomerates that ~Quld likely have been viewed With dismay by the early founders of the lineage. ~Because this advance towards consolidation did not by any means efface the soteriological ideals (connected to hermeticism) distinctly advo-

: eating movement away from it, there is little wonder that the personas and inherited histories of the Kagyu lineages reflect a tension between ideals of solitary withdrawal and ideals of community involvement. It is the position of this paper that the biographical representations of early lineage holders manifest this tension as a rhetorical struggle between ideals of iconoclasm and ideals of compliance with institutional norms. Here the term "iconoclasm" is used not to denote conscious contrarianism on

. the part of anyone individual, but to suggest a rhetorical mode of repre.• senting individuals via biography (rnam thar) as expressed (although sometimes inadvertent) mavericks who resist subservience to a set of codes of conduct and belief. In concert with this position, I hypothesize that some details of the biographies here considered reflect that in the lineage as a whole (in its formative period) this tension manifested as diametric allegiances rooted deeply in the soteriology, personals histories and stated ideals of the lineage: allegiances to poetic discourse and scholarship, lay-values and monasticism, sex and celibacy, solitude and communal life, wildness and tameness6• These tensions, I surmise here, rather than catalyzing a dysfunctional implosion, instead fed the fuel of

lishment of the order of Western Vinaya monks (950) and on the other end by the beginning of the Mongol invasions (1238).

6 It would be inaccurate to suggest that these tensions are by any means limited to the Kagyu, the Tibetan or even the Buddhist rnileau. As pointed out by Patrick Olivelle, the tension between ideals of asceticism and domestication in India is at least as old as the Upanishadic culture of 600 BCE. See Patrick Olivelle, "Ascetic Withdrawal or Social Engagement" in Religions of Asia in Practice, ed. Donald S. Lopez (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2002), pp. 122-135. Rather, I would suggest that unique styles of expression of this tension emerge from various lineages and traditions. Furthermore, I would propose that (1) patterns of resolution and non-resolution of these tensions are highly variable and (2) the intensity of these tensions is variable.

372 W. BLYTHE MILLER

the burst of Kagyu sub-sects branching out in the 12th-f3th century. These sub-sects, later categorized into the "four great lineages" (che bzhi) were the Tsalpa Kagyu, the Karma (or Kamtsang) Kagyu, the Barom Kagyu, and the Phagdru Kagyu. The disciples of Pagmo Drupa, the founder of the latter sect, were retrospectively seen as founding an additional "eight lesser lineages" (chung brgyad): the Drikung Kagyu, the Drukpa Kagyu, the Taklung Kagyu, the Yam Zang Kagyu, the Tropu Kagyu, the Marpa Kagyu, the Yalpa Kagyu and the Shugseb Kagyu (See Appendix 1)1. The tensions between demeanors of naturalness and domestication in these lineages were expressed, resolved and remained unresolved in a variety of ways by these different subsects.

One subsect that carried this web of tensions to an appreciable degree is the Drukpa Kagyu. A sect with expressed commitments to the hermetic (ras pa) lifestyle8, the Drukpa Kagyu nevertheless parented strong lineages of abbatial hierarchs, even while producing some of the Kagyu lineage's loudest voices of conscience. This polarity of allegiances and tendencies was to have two important consequences: it spawned an adaptableness that would ensure that the Drukpa Kagyu not only survived but also competed with the other lineages of its day, and it tolerated more lifestyle options for religious specialists than most other modem (gsar rna) lineages, attracting a wide following. In consort with the peripatetic ideal, the lineage was to survive not by creating and settling into large institutions, but rather by casting its net as wide as possible via the trajectories of wandering missionaries. In the span of its first three genera-

7 The Tibetan names for these lineages are tshal pa bka' brgyud, kam tshang bka' brgyud, 'ba' rom bka' brgyud, phag gru bka' brgyud, 'bri gung bka' brgyud, stag lung bka' brgyud, khro phu bka' brgyud, 'brug pa bka' brgyud, smar pa bka' brgyud, yel pa bka' brgyud, g.ya' bzang bka' brgyud and shug gseb bka' brgyud. This retrospective classification (and in general sectarian depictions of lineage formation and continuity) is a very simplified picture of what was undoubtedly an extremely complex web of relationships and transmissions. Some significant lineages omitted from this classification are detailed in Chapter VIII of deb ther sngon po (In English translation as The Blue Annals) by 'gos 10 tsa ba gzhon nu dpal (1392-1481). Included in his presentation is the zhang pa bka' brgyud, a lineage founded by the zhang rin po che who was one generation removed from Gampopa. Also included there are descriptions of the various branches of the Drukpa Kagyu: the Lower Druk, Upper Druk and Middle Druk lineages (described in more detail later in this paper).

8 See note 7.


tions, the Drukpa lineages challenged the geographical breadth of other lineages of the Tibetan Renaissance period. After establishing a foothold

... in the religious milieu of central Tibet, it moved across into Eastern Tibet and even into Bhutan. This burst of initial expansion, that seems almost

. dazzling looking back, is certainly both symptomatic of the fervent activjty of the renaissance period and of the Drukpa Kagyu's resourcefulness as a lineage.

Standing right at the diffident beginnings of this lineage were two Drukpa hierarchs, whose hagiographies form the basis for this analysis: Ling Repa (gling ras pa, 1128-1188) and his disciple Tsangpa Gyare (gtsang pa rgya ras, 1161-1211). Although it is unlikely these two individuals foresaw their future identification as lineage architects, they are the only two distinctly "Drukpa" founders to which all Drukpa Kagyu lineages trace their pedigree and they are highly revered (even today) in the imagination and literary culture of all Drukpa Kagyu sects. Therefore, examining their biographical personas and legacy is an opportune prel-

. ude to understanding the elements that bind together the disparate sublineages of the Drukpa Kagyu tradition, and to exploring the seminal events that eventually propelled a disparate group of people and amorphous set of teachings to become self-identified as a distinct lineage. Furthermore, in this paper I wish to consider the concept of "founder": What factors elevate individuals to the status of founders? What kind of rhetorical picture is constructed of an embryonic moment in Drukpa history, by narrative portrayal of an alternating attraction, antagonism and ambivalence towards consolidation, monasticism and scholasticism? Is it possible to see founders themselves as the archetypical embodiments of such tensions? These are a few guiding questions that I hope to pose of the biographical material forming the nexus of this article.

II. What's in a Stream

The Tibetan word for lineage is brgyud. Attempting to identify what exactly is meant by lineage in the premodern Tibetan context is not as easy as it would appear on the surface, because indigenous representations of lineage tend to emphasize diachronic lines of descent that sustain strong elements of stasis, cohesion and solidity, an emphasis that does not nec-

374 W. BLYTHE MllLER

essarily stand up under historical analysis. Here I would like to experiment with constructing a defInition around a confIguring metaphor evoked by an etymological interpretation of the word brgyud, which descends from rgyud, literally meaning "stream" or "continuum". Like a stream flowing from one place to another, lineage is suggestive of the passage of time, displaying a pattern of diachronic lineal descent. This descent at every level is not impermeable but picks up compositions, people, ideas, hermeneutics, books, places, things and so forth through time, like a stream picks up branches and leaves as it moves. The conducted matter leaves traces, a sediment of traditions and artifacts. Practices and texts sometimes snag on branches of controversy or obsolescence and are abandoned. Therefore, while the appellation "lineage" (brgyud) implies continuity and consolidation, its infrastructure is temporally, geographically and soteriologically fluid.

Lineage is also geographically fluid: like a stream moves across landscapes, lineages move into new places- Buddhist lineages permeated the Tibetan landscape during the tenth century onwards and interacted with physical space in real ways by inhabiting, anthropomorphizing, consecrating and using it in a ritual context. Just as waterways sometimes fork and merge, lineages occasionally part or flow together, as when the Drukpa lineage parted from the Marpa Kagyu, or when Gampopa combined the streams of the Kadampa and Mahamudra lineages. Just as a stream adapts to terrain, lineage accommodates changing environments, as expressed for example by Tsangpa Gyare's eventual decision to establish monasticism as a precedent for the Drukpa Kagyu lineage, despite the disinterest of his main preceptor. Just as buoyant material floats downstream, lineages involve human agents who pass on more enduring entities to future lineage holders: texts, ideas, practices. Just a river erode and change the terrain, lineages impact the religious, political, social, and economic environment. The complexity of the Drukpa lineage apparent within the fIrst few generations confIrms that while a given lineage in the Tibetan milieu tends to be identified by a consistent name and set of characteristics, a closer look reveals that it is in fact the accumulation of many things acting and appearing together as a continuum. With this metaphorical approach as a basis, I will venture a tentative definition. Lineage is a fluid and adaptable collection of material and non-material transmissions that


are passed down from one generation to the next: these transmissions may be textual, abbatial, geographical, ritual, instructional, scholastic, material, visual, artistic, auditory, and so forth9•

In contrast to lineage, but also very much related to it is the term chos lugs which means "religious tradition" or "sect". On the difference between "sect" and "lineage", Matthew Kapstein states:

By sect, I mean a religious order that is distinguished from others by virtue of its institutional independence; that is, its unique character is embodied outwardly in the form of an independent hierarchy and administration, independent properties and a recognizable membership of some sort. A lineage on the other hand is a continuous succession of spiritual teachers who have transmitted a given body of knowledge over a period of generations but who need not be affiliated with a common sectlO•

The Tibetan use of this word sect therefore implies consolidation, a soteriology and set of practices distinct from other traditions, and bureaucratically linked institutions. Continuing with the aquatic metaphor, a sect is a repository for lineages that may either flow into it or flow through it. David Snellgrove links the development of sects to the guru-disciple paradigm and centralization in a single place:

The eventual development of religious orders in Tibet is closely related with the great importance attached to devotion to one's chosen teacher, whence there derives immediately the concept of spiritual lineage ... Tibetan religious orders developed ... as the result of the fixing of such a spiritual lineage at a particular place, namely a monastic establishment, which happened to become a recognized religious center of importance, consequently growing in wealth and prestige ... only a favorable combination of a particular monastery with a particular lineage might result in what came to be recognized as a distinctive religious orderll.

In Tibet, sects are associated primarily with institutions, and the affiliation with a specific place is augmented by the creation of texts and abbatial successions associated with that place. Eventually, this central-

9 The "so forth" is intended to indicate that the potential identification of elements that can be considered part of lineage transmission is mind-boggling.

10 Matthew Kapstein, "gDams ngag: Tibetan Technologies of the Self" in Tibetan Literature: Studies in Genre, Cabazon and Jackson (eds.), page 249, note 2.

11 David Snellgrove, Indo-Tibetan Buddhism: Indian Buddhists and their Tibetan successors (Boston: Shambala Publications, 1987), p. 486.


ization results in a self-definition so complete that people carry personal names reflecting their sectarian affiliation, and monastic centers carry names that announce their sectarian status. Therefore, lineages and sects differ largely on the basis of the intensity of their self-defInition: Whereas lineage survives through popularity, a sect cultivates and develops uniqueness: its survival rests on its ability to present aesthetic, ritual, and soteriological perspectives that differ from and appear superior to rival sects. Furthermore, while a sect derives authority from its appropriation of specific lineages, lineage is not necessarily linked to a single sect. In short, sects are more structurally rigid than lineages.

Nevertheless, sects in Tibet have never been static or permanent. Those sects that survive appear to have done so by adapting to the political and social climate12, but also through the ingenuity and fortuitous non-conformity of their parishioners and leaders. By shirking, evading or simply augmenting the expressed codes of their tradition, the subscribers to sects have throughout Tibetan history provided a healthy milieu for change, evolution and adaptation at the juncture of every generation. Included among these "every-day" iconoclasts are examples of practitioners who, while steeped in one or more traditions, decline to announce a sectarian status and search for threads of continuity between traditions. One such figure was Taranatha (sgroi ba'i mgon po, 1575-1634), the eclectic scholar of the Jonang (jo nang) tradition, who doggedly stated he was simply "Buddhist", and inadvertently contributed to laying the groundwork for the nineteenth century non-sectarian (ris med) movement. Moreover, sects sometimes hybridize, such as the extremely popular Ka-Nying (bka' snying) tradition of Eastern Tibet that combines elements of Kagyu and Nyingma (snying ma) doctrine and textual transmissions into a loosely defined system. In short, while sects formalize and systematize lines of transmission, they remain flexible to a degree.

m. The Drukpa Kagyu Tradition

Although it is certain they considered themselves the common holders of Gampopa's lineage of instructions, there is no decisive evidence that

12 No example of the adaptibility of sects is starker than the numerous adjustments Tibetan sects have had to make as they encountered the cultures of China, India and the West in the last forty years.


the Drukpa Kagyu had self-identified as a sub-sect of the Kagyu lineage in the 12th century. However the composition of A Short History of the Drukpa Lineage ('Brug pa'i 10 rgyus zur tsam, a two-folio document found in the gsung 'bum of Gotsangpa13), by Gotsangpa (rgod tshang pa mgonpO rdo rje, 1189-1258) or one of his disciples, indicates that the Drukpa lineage was beginning to emerge as an independent entity by the 13th century. Within a few generations, the trickle that opens with the life story of Ling Repa had become a watershed. The new lineage would be known by two names: Lingre Kagyu (gling ras bka' brgyud) and Drukpa Kagyu. The former name, still commonly used, graced Ling Repa retroactively with the status of a founder. The latter name was extracted from the monastery of Namdruk (gnam 'brug) established by Tsangpa Gyare. However, it was Ralung (rwa lung), founded jointly by Ling Repa and Tsangpa Gyare, that was to become the major seat of the Gya (rgya) abbots, the most powerful Drukpa abbatial lineage in Tibet. Ling Repa entrusted this incipient center to Tsangpa Gyare who built it into a monastic complex and eventually passed it to his nephew Sangye Onre Darma Senge (sangs rgyas dbon ras dar ma seng ge, 1177-1237), who became its second abbot. For the next 400 years, this abbatiallineage residing at Ralung would be known as the Middle Druk (bar 'brug) lineage. However, in the seventeenth century, an unresolved political dispute would compel the center to relocate and split the lineage into a Northern and a Southern branch14• Due to the same dispute, in 1616, the coeval scion in the succession of Middle Drug abbots Ngawang Namgyal (ngag dbang rnam rgyal) was forced to flee to Bhutan where he quickly rose to power. After his death, he would be recognized as the individual who established the Drukpa Kagyu in Bhutan, where it remains the official national religion.

Tsangpa Gyare's disciples Gotsangpa (rgod gtsang pa, 1189-1258) and Lorepa (10 ras pa, 1187-1250) were later seen as the founders of two major offshoots of the Drukpa lineage: the lineage of Upper Druk (stod

I3 'Brug pa'i 10 rgyus zur tsam, in Chos rje rGod tshang pa'i bka' 'bum dgos 'dod kun'byung (Tintphu, Bhutan: Tango Monastic Community, 1981. Reproduced by the Tibetan Buddhist Resource Center from a manuscript preserved at rTa mgo monastery), Volume III, Pages 91-94. An article about this short document is forthcoming.

14 byang 'brug and Iho 'brug. For more details on this dispute and its fall-out see E. Gene Smith, Among Tibetan Texts: History and Literature of the Himalayan Plateau (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2001), pp. 44-45.


'brug) and the lineage of Lower Druk (smad 'brug),' respectively (See Appendix IT). The lineage of Upper Druk gave rise to a number of important sects: the Nering Kagyu (ne rings bka' brgyud), the Dowo Chewa (mdo bo che ba) and the Yang Gon Kagyu (yang dgon bka' brgyud) among others. The lineage of Lower Druk would flourish primarily in Bhutan. Minor traditions originated from four disciples of Tsangpa Gyare: Pariwa (spa ri ba), Kyangmo Khapa (rkyang mo kha pa), Gya Yagpa (rgya yags pa) and Dremopa ('bras mo pa). In addition, one of Gotsangpa's disciples Urgyenpa (u rgyan pa 1230-1309) would establish an important sub-lineage that later merged with other Drukpa sects. In short, the Drukpa Kagyu lineage in Tibet eventually branched into four major sub-sects and many minor sub-sects, and spread to Bhutan where it became the national religion 15.

Moving upstream, Ling Repa and Tsangpa Gyare were also the inheritors of an already well established Kagyu lineage (See Appendix I). Ling Repa's teacher, Phagmo Drupa, was a staunch monastic patriarch and prolific author, following in the footsteps of his preceptor Gampopa. Gampopa was inheritor of two main lineages which he synthesized into a single system: Atisha's Kadampa lineage and Naropa's Kagyu lineage. The former instilled in Gampopa an appreciation of monasticism and sutrabased scholarship, but the latter-a lay-based esoteric lineage that embraced texts on tantra and somatic yogas-supplied Gampopa with the soteriology that served as the nexus for his compositions l6 . Biographical representations of N aropa, one of the Kagyu lineage's principal Indian founders, depict a man a bit like Gampopa in his regard for bringing a scholarly approach to tantric practice. However, unlike Naropa, Gampopa and his line of succession saw the prudence of establishing a stable monastic community and training many disciples I? Therefore, the line-

15 The information in the above two paragraphs comes from Smith, Among Tibetan Texts (see note 20). For a pictorial presentation of the Drukap Kagyu lineages, see Appendix II.

16 Gampopa reserved teachings on the Six Yogas of Naropa and the tantras for his most advanced and promising disciples. See Gampopa, "A Brief Account of Dhama Lord Gampopa's Life" in Jewel Ornament of Liberation, trans. Khenpo Konchog Gyaltsen, ed. Ani K. Trinlay Chodron (Ithaca: Snow Lion Publications, 1998), p. 325-332.

17 Of course, in his writings, he occasionally apologizes for his consolo dating activities and bemoans his fate as a popular abbot. But his activities and compositions overall


age· that Ling Repa inherited had already articulated a monastic and scholastic agenda; but carried with it the strong memories of a close past of yogis meditating in mountain retreats. Ling Repa saw it as his mission to revive the old ways and defy the ecclesiastical model that was fast becoming normative. His insubordination made him a beloved and influential lodestar not only for his student Tsangpa Gyare but also for the Drukpa lineage in general. But what situated him and his student Tsangpa Gyare as founders of a new order bears investigation.

IV. A Tale of Two Founders

The purpose of the remainder of this essay is to scope out the tenor of the lives of two very important figures against the backdrop of the renaissance period, and probe (in an admittedly inchoate fashion) the question of what made these two individuals "founders". This project is in actuality a task beyond the scope of a short article, and I will therefore have to be selective in entertaining possible answers to this question. It is my hope that the reader will consider this a modest contribution to a dialogue that has herein been opened. In the next section, I will briefly summarize the lives of these two saints as presented in some biographical sources, and then will explore a few topics relating to founderhood that emerge organically from the material at hand.

In his essay The Lives of Indian Buddhist Saints: Biography, Hagiography and Myth, James Burnell Robinson proposes three ascending ways of reading the accounts of saints: "as history, as hagiography and as myth." 18 Inspired by this paradigm of reading modes, I will for heuristic purposes in this essay propose two a:Itemative models: religious biographies may be viewed as cultural artifacts and as cultural agents. On the one hand, this involves viewing life-accounts as valuable portraits of time and place. Robinson touches on this perspective when he defends the value of reading saint's accounts as histories: "Even if the historica:I accu-

nevertheless reflect a deep concern with succession and systematization characteristic of an institutinoal format.

18 James Burnell Robinson, "The Lives of Indian Buddhist Saints: Biography, Hagiography and Myth" in Tibetan Literature: Studies in Genre, Jose Ignacio Cabezon and Roger R. Jackson, eds. (Ithaca: Snow Lion Publications, 1996), p. 61.


racy of certain events and personages may seem suspect to critical scholarly eyes, recurrent motifs probably are quite accurate in mirroring the conditions of the time." Taking the historical perspective further, we might also hypothesize that these accounts are shaped by events, and their content is influenced by religious and political agendas. In this sense, religious biographies are cultural artifacts, with potential to reveal much in their pages about the time, place and manner of their composition.

On the other hand, religious biographies may be viewed. as cultural agents that" act" upon those who read or possess them. The motifs, language and even their physical existence influence the conditions of the present and future. In line with an agential interpretation, it is possible to see the individuals portrayed in these biographies as archetypes, delineating to some extent what is possible and recommended for future generations of a particular lineage. In other words, religious biographies are not merely reflective: they are templates that shape lives, literature, culture and institutions.

Looking through the lens of biography as cultural artifact and agent, the degree to which the content of these biographical accounts contains historically accurate information is not necessarily of paramount importance. Still, the biographical material considered for this paper may proffer content of historical significance that is worthy of a Tibetanist's attention, so the question of accuracy is worth addressing at least in passing. Janet Gyatso reflects the observations of a number of Tibetanists when she remarks that "the life-writing impulse in Tibet reflects a long tradition of record-keeping", and notices that biographies (rnam thar) often tum out to be dictations from the protagonist to a disciple, and therefore may sometimes be partially autobiographical19• Her observations are in keeping with a concern with specific details and dates evident in the two narratives below. More explicitly, it might be possible to hypothesize some autobiographical elements to the first version of the biography of Tsangpa Gyare20 which was written by his disciple Lorepa (Io ras dbang phyug brtson 'grus, 1187-1250). The direct link between the author and his subject supports to some degree the potential authenticity of events

19 Janet Gyatso, Apparitions of the Self: The Secret Autobiographies of a Tibetan Visionary (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998), p. 103.

20 gtsang pa rgya ras ye shes rdo rje'i rnam thar.


recorded in that- account. While in the case of Ling Repa's biographies none of the versions have a colophon, the inclusion in the 'ba' ra biography of specific quotations indicated to be from the mouth of the sub-

• jectl1 might indicate a link between the author and his subject (or perhaps · his subject's direct disciples). But perhaps the most corroborating evi

dence for the historical value of both texts is the relative lack of hagiographical details found therein: the early biographies of these two Drukpa hierarchs generally have the sense of being records, with a smattering of miraculous events. However, there is a similarity of sOme details in both biographies with the story of Milarepa, and this could be examined more closely to determine if parts of the stories might have been adapted from another source.

Ling Repa Padma Dorje22 (1128-1188)

Ling Repa was, as depicted in the two religious biographies considered · here23 and suggested by the content of his writings, a free spirit who · found more affinity with the repa tradition of Milarepa's followers than with the more orthodox monastic tradition of Gampopa, although he eventually reconciled the two at the urging of his guru Pagmo Drupa. To the consternation of his teacher, he was rarely without a wife or a female companion of some sort, but his leanings towards a solitary life were strong. In style and activity Ling Repa was something of a vagrant poet.

21 There are a number of examples of these quotations in the biography found in the 'ba' ra gser phreng. For example, on folio 377 of the text, Ling Repa is quoted as saying "Every time I requested a Dhanna session with Lama La, I never neglected to offer him tea. As a result, I do not suffer from lack of tea .... " (bla ma lola chos thun re zhu ba la ja sun re ma ched pas da Ita jas nyon ma mongs).

22 Also known as sna phu ba, a name he acquired on the basis of his founding of a hermitage at sna phu.

23 There are three surviving biogaphical accounts (rnam thar) of Ling Repa found in three collections: rwa lung gser phreng compiled by rje shakya rin chen, the 'ba' ra gser phreng (19th century) and the rta mgo (pha jo sding manuscript, 18th century). None of these accounts have colophons, and their authorship is unknown (Gene Smith 4/16/2004, email communication). For this compilation, I relied on the text entitled grub thob chen po gling chen ras pa padma rdo rje'i rnam par thar pa in the 'ba' ra bka' brgyud gser 'phreng chen mo, and on Go Lotsawa's accounts in the Blue Annals. There are significant differences between the content of these two sources. Therefore, the following brief account generally includes the information held in common by these two sources. Discrepancies will be discussed here or later.

382 " W. BLYTHE MILLER

Inspired by stories of his predecessor Milarepa, he sought teachings from Sumpa Repa (sum pa ras pa), the inheritor of Rechungpa's lineage. Like Kagyu bards of yore, he" was peripatetic and often inspired by the creative muse.

The 'ba' ra biography begins with a long account of Ling Repa's past life as the Bodhisattva Good Fortune (skal pa bzang po), an account that seems to be extracted from a sutra, although I have been unable to determine the source. Even though this account is not in the form of a "prediction narrative" (lung bstan), its inclusion in the biography accomplishes at least two authenticating purposes related to the validation of Ling Repa's . status as a founder. First, the account links Ling Repa with Indian precedents and legitimizes him as a Bodhisattva who has connection to a previous Buddha. This observation reaffrrms the notion that Tibetan biographical narratives function to forge connections between lineage founders and Indian personalities (either sutric or tantric), hence legitimizing, or at least attempting to legitimize, the founders of sects in the Indian-centric Tibetan imagination. Second, the past-life account can be read as an indirect defense for Ling Repa's loss of monastic vows,~imd his lay tendencies in general, as indicated at the end of the passage, when Good Fortune and his Bodhisattva friends take a long set of vows, swearing to never slander other Bodhisattvas. A piece of this vow is as follows:

From now on, if we speak of the downfall of a bodhisattva-whether it may be dishonorable or not-we will be deceiving the tathiigata. If we should blame or speak unpleasant words to a bodhisattva, we will be deceiving the tathiigata. Transcendent Conqueror, then, if we see a bodhisattva individualwhether he may be a layperson or a monk-partaking of the sense pleasures, and we then give rise to faithlessness, disrespect, and no impulse to praise him, we will be deceiving the tathiigata. From now on, upon seeing a bodhisattva, if we utter as much as a single unflattering word, we will be deceiving the tathiigata24•

24 "Grub thob chen po gling chen ras pa padma rdo rje'i mam par thar pa", 'ba'ra bka' brgyud gser 'phreng chen mo. Dehradun: Ngawang Gyaltsen and Ngawang Lungtok, 1970, Volume I, folio 369-370. From here forward, all indented quotes in the Ling Repa section are translations from this text unless otherwise noted. TIlls piece of vow in the Tibetan reads: deng sian chad nas byang chub sems dpa'i Itung ba smad pa 'ami smad pa ma lags pa yang rung stel gleng na bdag cag gis de bzhin gshegs pa bslus par .'gyur rol de nas byang chub sems dpa' la snyad pa'ml mi snyan pa brjod na bdag cag gis de bzhin gshegs pa bslus par 'gyur rol des 'dre'ol bcom [dan 'das de nas byang chub sems


This passage reads like an edification of how a reader should approach the potentially disquieting lifestyle of Ling Repa: the reader should cultivate "sacred outlook" (dag snang), more specifically the attitude that .fue unconventional behavior of a lama is in fact the manifestation of his enlightened wisdom. This passage provides a compelling example of how the details in biography incorporate normative Buddhist doctrine into a narrative format, while simultaneously justifying (and sometimes glorifying) the actions of the biography's protagonist.

Both biographies agree on the details of Ling Repa's early religious career. He was born in the village of Langpo Na (glang po sna) in the Upper Nyang (nyang stod) district of Tsang (gtsang) in Central Tibet in 1128, as the youngest of four children. In Upper Nyang, there were two clans: Upper and Lower Ling (stod gling and srnad gling). Ling Repa's family belonged to the clan of Lower Ling, from which he would later take his name25• His father, who was learned in Tantric propitiations, and earned his livelihood as an astrologer, named him Perna Dorje (pad rna rdo Ije). At the age of nine, Perna Dorje learned to read and write. In exchange for a plot of land, he received instruction from a local physician in the practice of medicine.

At 17, he began formal religious training in the presence of a preceptor named Ling (gling). One passage in the 'ba' ra biography calls into question how specifically Buddhist this religious training may have been:

About this time, [Ling Repa] had a dispute with a local official and a local clansman. Resorting to black magic, he cast many spells, perfonning 20 black magic rituals in a single month. Thus, he completely destroyed all the officials. In Upper Nyang, he became known as the greatest magician, and thus stood at the crown of his district26•

dpa'i gang zag khim pa'm rab tu byung pa yang rung stel 'dod pa'i yon tan la yang su spyad pa mthang nal rna dad par bgyid daml rna gus par bgyid daml de fa stod pa'i 'du shes me bskyid nal bdag cag gis de bzhin gshegs pa bslus par 'gyur roldeng nas sian chad byang chub sems dpa' mthong pa la yid du mi 'ong pa'i tshigs tsam tang smras nal bdag cag gis de bzhin gshegs pa bslus par 'gyur ral

25 The custom of prominent religious specialists taking their personal name from their clan or region of birth is extremely common, as can be seen from references in The Blue Annals. This underscores yet again, the importance of place and clan-affiliation in the identity construction of Tibetans.

26 Ibid, Vol. 1, Folio 373. de tsam na rje dpon gcig dang rabs chad gcig la rna 'cham pasl mdze' po shang lung du brtsan gnyis gzung la bcur la phabl mthu mang pa mdzadl


The similarity of this detail with the early life of Miiarepa is apparent, except the eventual contrition of the protagonist is conspicuously absent and the rhetoric of the passage not only fails to excuse Ling Repa's revenge-it glorifies him as "the greatest magician", standing "at the crown of the district." Therefore, whether this passage is a redaction of a Kagyu theme or reflective of Ling Repa's history, the passage indicates a certain tolerance towards and even endorsement of coercive magic. It seems plausible that the religious environment of the 12th century not only tolerated the presence of coercive ritual specialists, but glorified violent practices (eventually modified and incorporated into institutions as "averting" [!zag pa] practices and so forth) as evidence of the puissance of the practitioner. An interesting study would be to see how these references change and are modified in biography as Buddhism because increasingly institutionalized from the renaissance period onwards.

Whatever the case may be, we are led to wonder if Ling Repa's bravado, in addition to vanquishing his foes (how he "destroyed" his enemies is left distressingly non-specific), added to his personal charm, as the next line of the text reads simply "Then, he got together with Menmo."27 Menmo (srnan rna), referred to alternately in the 'ba' ra hagiography as Menmo and "the Lady" (ja rna), would be Ling Repa's wife for much of his adulthood. At this point in the story, Go Lotsawa' s account launches into apologetics for Ling Repa's wantonness. However, this invective is absent from the 'ba' ra biography, perhaps indicating that the later biographical account is older. With or without the apologetics, references to Ling Repa's relationship with Menmo are significantly present in both biographies.

For a few years, Ling Repa and Menmo received instructions and empowerments from Ra Lotsawa (rwa ye shes senge, 12th century) and his disciples in the esoteric cycles of Kalachakra, Chakrasmavara, Yamantaka and Vajravaharahi. Ra Lotsawa encouraged the couple to seek instruction in the Six Dharmas of Naropa from his teacher Khyung Tsangpa

zla ba re la gtad phogs nyi shu tsa re mdzad nas rje dpon thams cad rtsa ba rlaglngang stod na mthu chad bar grags pa yang de btsug lags par gda'l. This is yet another example of a quote attributed to Ling Repa himself.

27 Ibid. de nas jo mo sman dang gnyis 'grogs.


(khyung tshang pa), who claimed to be a direct disciple of Rechungpa. Ling Repa, greatly inspired by the stories he had heard about the great cave meditator28, declared at the time of receiving instruction, "From this time forward, I will follow and act according to [Rechungpa's] life exampie." Rechungpa, who was not a monk and had founded a community of non-celibate renunciant yogis (repas), was an apropos role model for Ling Repa who-although he had fervent religious leanings-was married.

After some time, however, Khyung Tsangpa convinced Ling Repa to accept monastic ordination [and apparently send Menmo away]. For one year, Ling Repa practiced the Kadampa teachings and lived as a monk under Khyung Tsangpa's guidance. But then Menmo visited him:

... while he was residing at Gyache Lumpa Monastery, the Lady turned up. Powerless to resist her, he lost his vows. Later he would say, "I was weak"29.

This would be the last occasion that Ling Repa attempted monastic ordination. Recommitting themselves to Rechungpa' s example, both Menmo and Ling Repa (who was now 31) took on the discipline ofthe repa lineage: they vowed to only wear a cotton garment and refrain from cutting their hair. However, their enthusiasm would soon be dampened by a troubling revelation. After taking repa vows, Ling Repa heard the rumor that Khyung Tsangpa never really met Rechungpa as he had claimed, much less received the nectar of Naropa's teachings from him. Instead, it was whispered, he was a disciple of Lama Olkawa (' ot kha ba?O, a less glamorous student of Gampopa. Given that he requested instructions initially from his guru on the basis of a connection with Rechungpa, Ling Repa felt betrayed. In his old age, however, he would regret these doubts and attribute obstacles in his practice to them. He is quoted in the biography as saying, "This is the reason my yogic heat is enervated now. "31

28 Rechuugpa did not pass away unti11161, so he was alive at this time although apparently inaccessible to young Ling and his wife.

29 Ibid, Vol. 1, Folio 374. de nas rgya phed lum pa'i zungs po dgon par bzhugs yod tsam nal jo rno byung nas dbang med du zlogl nga rang snyan po chung pas Ian gsungl

30 '01 kha ba grol sgom chos g.yung (1103-1199). See Gene Smith, TBRC Website: http://www .tbrc .org/c gi -bin/tbrcdatx? do=so&resource=P5167 .

31 Ibid, Vol. 1, Folio 374. da Ita drad chung pa des Ian gsung.


Motivated anew to receive the Six Dharma tradition from the purest possible source, Lingre32 (who was now 35) and Menmo traveled to Loro33, the hermitage. of Rechungpa. They discovered on arrival that Rechungpa had passed away in the previous year (1161). But the couple was satisfied to ascertain that Sumpa Repa, a direct disciple of Rechungpa, was residing at Loro and was willing to bestow the Kagyu precepts completely. Lingre, in appreciation, offered tea at every instruction session and later declared that as a result, for the rest of his life, he never wanted for tea.

When Lingre was 38, he traveled with Menmo to Pagdru Monastery, the great monastic complex founded by Pagmo Drupa, Gampopa's main disciple. His first meeting with the great abbot left him in a state of typical Kagyu infatuation:

He met Phagmo Drupa on the seventeenth day after the summer solstice, and was instantly filled with fierce devotion. The feeling was so strong, he had the experience that the members of the entire congregation were Buddhas. He had the thought that even the local animals-birds, dogs and foxeswere manifestations of the lama, and lost his perception of them as ordinary creatures34•

Pagmo Drupa, for his part, was a strict advocate of monasticism and orthodoxy, and was disinclined to seriously teach any disciple who was not celibate, but the eager repa won him over by conducting a large fire ceremony in honor of the lama and singing a song expressing his realization. Although the congregation was scandalized at the sight of a lay disciple making vast offerings to their teacher, Pagmo Drupa expressed his appreciation to Ling Repa unequivocally: "Ling Repa, you have authentic wisdom. In my residence, I have a special person, someone who will accomplish waves of benefit for beings. With just this one song, you

32 Lingre is a nickname often used to refer to Ling Repa in Drukpa literature. 33 10 ro in dmyal. 34 Ibid, Vol. 1, Folio 378-379. phag mo gru par dbyar gyi nyi ma bzlog 'tshams kyi

tshe bcu bdun gyi nyi ma la 'byal bas! mos pa drag po skyes bla ma dang Ita ci rmos ste! grogs po dam pa rnams kyang sangs rgyas yin te te na gnas pa 'i bya khi tang! ba la sogs pa byol song rnams kyang bla ma'i rnams 'phrul yin snyam pa las! tha mal pa'i byol song yin snyam pa'i 'du shes ma byung gsung!


iliave bestowed precepts. "35 During his time studying with Pagmo Drupa, tingre would delight his master many times over with his composition fbfsongs of experience (mnyam mgur) such as these. Posthumously, they .~ould earn him the admiration of all Tibetan lineages and the epithet ~~'Saraha of Tibet" . i1.t,Despite his satisfaction with Lingre's progress, Phagmo Drupa was tilil troubled by his luminary disciple's married status. Sometime around ti 167, Lingre approached Pagmo Drupa, saying that his wife's jealousy ~Was becoming an obstacle to his spiritual practice. Pagmo Drupa took !the opportunity to encourage Lingre to end his relationship with Menmo. ltingre protested that Menmo would not leave him just for the asking. i:But Pagmo Drupa insisted declaring, "I will perform a rite!" Apparently 'the master's coercive action worked, as Lingre was successful in escort'ing his wife to an area close to her parents' home and letting her go.

Lingre's abstinence did not last long, however. He soon developed a relationship with a woman from Zangri36, but wanted out of the affair almost immediately. The temptress would have nothing of it and pursued him so aggressively Ling Repa was compelled to flee to Kham37. The trip was not in vain, as he was able to visit Gampopa's monastic center 'on the way. Later, the woman from Zangri came to Khams in search of her par amour, but died on the way.

Lingre seems to have spent several years traveling in Kham because when he returned to Pagdru Monastery, his teacher had passed away. The next fIfteen years of his life would be spent visiting localities in Central and Western Tibet. He met Lama Zhang38, and assisted in mediating in one of his military feuds. He also donated (whether by coercion on Lama

. Zhang's part or voluntarily is not clear) a great deal of the wealth accu

. mulated during his travels to a statue commissioned by Lama Zhang.

35 Ibid, Vol. 1, Folio 380. gling ras pa khod la rnngon par zhes pa rnnga' bar 'dug past nga'i 'di na skyes bu khad par can 'gro don brlabs can 'grub pa gcig yod de khod kyis tshol gcig gxung nas bka' bgo 'dzad dol

36 bZang ri in sNye rno province of Tsang (THDL Website). 37 khams, Eastern Tibet 38 bla rna zhang (1123-1193), a contraversial figure of the 12th century who was known

for his mastery of the. satirical pen and involement in military endeavors. He was a stu-

388 W. BLYTIIE MILLER

Once, on his way to Pagdru monastery, he stopped'at Samye, the fIrst Buddhist temple built in Tibet. There,

... a blue woman app~ared and bestowed the reading transmission of the tantras. Then she commanded, "Explain the tantras!" Although her command seemed impossible, knowledge of [the tantras] arose [in Ling Repa's mind] without his having to train, and he composed a number of commentaries. A number of people were displeased and disparaged Ling, calling the

. compositions fake .. 39•

This vision seems to have given Lingre the confIdence to begin the tradition of tantric discourse that would become a specialty of the Druk hierarchs. Despite the doubts of some of his contemporaries, Lingre composed four volumes related to tantric practice and exegesis: Source of All Qualities: A Practice of the Mandala of Chakrasamvara, A Practice of the Mandala of the Glorious Transcendent Conqueror Vajrapani, Heart of Interdependence: A Wrathful Rite and An Explanation of Tantra4o. During his lifetime, he also composed several other texts on devotional practice and mind instruction. He was most famous however for his poetic composition, an art he was so skilled at that later generations speculated that he must have studied with the great Sanskrit scholar Parpupa (spar phu ba)41, who was known for his mastery of kavya42• Ling Repa's songs are housed in collection called "Lingre's Collection of Songs" (gling ras gsung 'bum, literally "100,000 Songs").

Sometime during Ling Repa's late forties or early fIfties, he established a community of practitioners at Napu Hermitage (sna phu dgon) and began training disciples. Eventually, an inadvertent karmic mistake would bring about his demise:

dent of tshul khrims snying po, one of Gampopa's main disciples. Gampopa himself refused to teach the rebellious young man.

39 Ibid, Vol. 1, Folio 397. bud med sgnon mo gcig byung ste brgyud sde rnams la lung nos byas nasi khod kyis rgyud sde rnams la bshad pa byis gcig mi srid kyi gsung nasi brgyud sde rnams ma brlabs par mkhyen pa byung nas yig sna mdzad pasl ma bsnyan par bshad zer nas sgro bkur 'debs pa ...

40 bde mehog dkyi/ 'khor gyi eho ga yon tan kun 'byung, beom Idan 'das dpal phyag na rdo rje'i dkyi/ 'khor eho ga, rten 'brei snying po'i las byang and rgyud kyi rnam bshad.

41 spar phu ba blo gros senge, student of Pagmo Drupa. 42 Go Lotsawa, who states he has compared their two styles, is unable to confirm or

deny this theory.


.While he was imparting a religious teaching from the graduated path texts to an assembly. of students, in the section on the five tantric commitments, two men with impure tantric commitments appeared. This caused his teeth to clench, and he passed away on the twenty-eighth day of the first summer month in the year Earth-male-ape (1188 A.D.). He was sixty-one43 •.

While there is no certainty of the historical accuracy of the details of the biography, a death caused by the clenching of teeth is curious and specific enough to suggest some reflection of a physiological symptom or terminal illness which Tibetans are familiar44. In any case, the linking of his death with a karmic cause reflects one of the soteriological metanarratives present in this biography. Nothing is more important in the esoteric Buddhist context than maintenance of tantric commitments. Even a saint like Ling Repa is not ultimately immune to the results of his transgression. Therefore, appropriately, as Ling Repa's story began with the admonishment to maintain sacred outlook, it ends with a revelation of the consequences of not maintaining it.

Tsangpa Gyare Yeshe Dorje45 (1128-1188)

The adoption of the name Dorje (rdo rje) for Drukpa hierarchs is a tradition that seems to have started right at the roots of the lineage. Perhaps this is significant, because it may mean that by the time Tsangpa Gyare began to study with Ling Repa, he and his contemporaries were already / aware they were in the incipient stages of founding a bona fide religious order with unique monikers for its members, structures and organization.

43 'gos 10 tsa ba gzhon nu dpal, deb ther sngon po, (Chengdu: Si-khron mi-rigs dpeskrun-khan, 1984), p. 779. del' slob ma rnams khrid kyi rim pa dang tshogs chos kyis skyong zhing bzhugs pa'i tshel dam tshig lnga pa gsung zhing yod pa'i 'phro la dam tshig mi gtshang ba'i mi gnyid byung ba'i rkyen gyis tshems khrig de 'khrigs nasi sa pho spre'u 10 drug cu rtsa gcig pa'i dbyar zla ra ba'i nyer brgyad la gshegs.

44 A friend finishing up study in medicine suggested to me that Ling Repa may have died of lock-jaw caused by tetanus. Tetanus bacteria causes the jaw to contract until the teeth are forced together, and the victim eventually carmot open the mouth to eat or swallow. The disease is not contagious (it is caused by the bacteria which is found in soil entering a puncture wound), so its appearence must have seemed mysterious to premodern peoples who encountered it. I selected this version of his death from deb ther sngon po because of its brevity. The version in the 'ba' ra gser spreng does not mention the clenching of the teeth as a cause of death, but the other details are consistent.

45 gtsang pa rgya ras ye shes rdo rje


While Ling Repa was known as the "Saraha of Tibet", Tsangpa Gyare would be revered as an incarnation of Naropa, and his unique ability to combine scholarship with an emphasis on non-elaborate meditative techniques greatly resembled the style of the Indian Pandit. There is ample evidence in the story to follow that Tsangpa Gyare, like Naropa, had a far reaching vision for his monastery and decedents that extended beyond the parameters of his own life. To use the word" ambitious" to describe this precocious and motivated figure would perhaps be an. understatement. Whereas Ling Repa traveled a lot and did not begin consolidating his legacy until fairly late in his life, Tsangpa Gyare's religious career began in childhood and continued at a stunning pace until his early death at age 51. In that short lifetime, if his life accounts are accurate, he managed to found a number of monasteries, compose numerous texts, gather thousands of disciples, send out missionaries far and wide, and thoroughly groom a number of successors.

Tsangpa Gyare was born in the district of Kule (khu Ie) in Upper Nyang (myang stod)46 in 1161, the youngest of the seven sons. The number of boys was too much of an economic burden for the household, so his mother entrusted her new son to a bonp047 who gave him the name Yungdrung Pal (gyung drung dpal.)48. At the age of twelve, the boy was taken by an elder brother to a local monastery to learn the alphabet. The boy was either extremely precocious or extremely diligent or perhaps both, as he was immediately transferred to the quarters of one of the region's most eminent scholars where he lived and studied for three years. In his teenage years, he is depicted as studying a dizzying curriculum of texts and practices with seven eminent scholars. The transmissions he received included the Abhidharma, Yoga Tantra, the Pacification (zhi byed) System, the Great Perfection, logic (tshad ma), the rdzogs chen rigs rdzogs, the Mahamaya Cycle, the Treasure of the Great Merciful One (thugs rje chen po gter ma), the Bodhisattvacaryavatara, the Names of Manjushri, and Great Compassion (thugs rje chen po, by Atisha). This portrait of a young scholar contrasts noticeably with the biographical representation of Ling Repa's youth, in which Lingre is depicted studying medicine and the dark

46 myang stod is in Southern Tibet, not far from the Bhutanese border. 47 A religious specialist in the Bon tradition. 48 Although this is a distictly Bonpo name, it is intersting that Tsangpa Gyare never

relinquished it as his personal name.


arts, much in the same way (interestingly) that the depiction of the Gampopa's early Kadampa training contrasts starkly with that of the occult education of Milarepa.

By the age of 22, Tsangpa was officially installed by a local guru as a scholar and religious instructor. He then took up residence in the hermitage of Lamda Barzang (fa mda 'bar bzang). Soon after, he met Ling Repa while the latter was residing at his retreat at Raiung. Tsangpa presented Lingre with a bag of salt and conversed with him for some time. His interest and faith awakened, he asked and received permission to study with the venerable repa at Napu. After receiving the precepts of the Six Dharmas of Naropa, Tsangpa made quick progress, but an obstacle was to befall him:

After seven days, he was able to wear a single cotton garment. Then for a long time he fell ill with small-pox. On his recovery, he offered his teacher a mare called "The Queen of Beasts". He also offered him some tea and brown sugar49•

The presence of plague in premodern Tibet must have weighed on the ininds of aspiring religious specialists like Tsangpa Gyare: sickness is mentioned often in the biographies of the renaissance period. It might be surmised that this early brush with a serious illness motivated the driven young man to use his remaining days to their fullest. This passage also introduces the theme of gift-giving and reciprocation that is remarkably prevalent throughout these two biographies, perhaps partly symptomatic of the period of explosive economic growth in the religious mileau of the renaissance period.

At about this time, Ling Repa was recruiting monks to help with the building of a temple at Napu. Novitiates who arranged to enter retreat in order to shirk this drudgery were fined one coin each. Tsangpa, who was not himself inclined towards manual labor, endeavored to join the exodus and offered a coin to Lingre, submitting the excuse that he needed to copy over some texts50• Lingre, seeing his disciple's ignoble motivation,

49 'gos 10 tsa ba gzhon nu dpal, deb ther sngon po, pages 780-781. zhag bdun nas ras thub pa byungl der 'brurn pas yun ring du bsnyungl de dwangs nas rta rgod rna byol song gi rgyal rno blangs nas bla rna la phull ja bur yang drangs.

50 It is mentioned in more than one place that Tsangpa acted as a scribe while at Napu. Because his grammar and spelling were good, he sometimes helped other young scribes in correcting their copy errors. He also was employed by Lingre to copy-edit some of the old master's own compositions.


dismissed him. But the tone in which his teacher spoke alarmed Tsangpa who wilted with contrition.

He thought that if the "lama was displeased, how can the precepts be kept? "Look what I've come to!" He exclaimed and shed tears. He then placed a plate full of brown sugar in front of the teacher and said: "I made a mistake!" and confessed. [Lingre] replied: "Ah! Only one who understands the doctrine acts like this!" and was pleasedSJ •

Tsangpa worked on building the chapel for five months, and by the end of his apprenticeship had developed an ability to concentrate one-pointedly on any task at hand. This skill allowed him to make up for the time lost in his compulsory tenure: After building the chapel, he finished copying the text he was working on in a mere four days. Furthermore, in exchange for his devoted labor, Lingre bestowed on him the remaining Kagyu precepts52.

Although Lingre himself did not teach or compose texts on philosophical discourse, interactions depicted in Tsangpa's biography depict him as stimulated and challenged by the intellectual acuity of his young disciple. One passage in the bio accounts a moment where Ling Repa rouses Tsangpa to a debate, demanding,

"Propose a religious conundrum!"

"I shouldn't. How could I expose a contradiction existing in my teacher's mind? It's inappropriate!" Tsangpa replied.

"Did I not just give you permission [to do so]?" Lingre cajoled.

"Then propose a definition for the state of the DharmakayaS3," ventured Tsangpa.

"It is that which is devoid of origination, destruction, and existence," replied Lingre.

51 Ibid., page 781. bla rna rna rnnyes na gdarns ngag gis ci btub nga 'dm ba 'ong ba byas nas bshags pa phul basi '0 chos go ba bya ba de tsug 'ong ba yin gsung nas rnnyes"

52 It is worth mentioning here that Tsangpa also received precepts from other teachers while he was at Napu, including instruction on Hevajra and Mahamaya tantras.

53 The "truth body". It's meaning is generally associated with Buddhist conceptions of ultimate truth. It is often glossed as consisting of a SUbjective aspect (dharmaldiya as wisdom, or realization of truth) and an objective aspect (dharmaldiya as the ultimate natore of phenomena which is emptiness).


."If so," declared Tsangpa, "The sky would be considered an absolute truth [but this is clearly erroneous]."

Ling Repa could not reply, but he was pleased with Tsangpa's acumen54.

Tsangpa spent a total of five years at N apu Monastery with Ling Repa. During this time, Tsangpa alternated study and meditation practice, a pattern that he was to establish as normative for his lineage. He excelled especially at the practice of somatic yogas. As his biography says:

He acquired the ability to merge the outer air and inner breath, and could pass through walls. He manifested signs mentioned [in the sacred texts], such as victory in the battle with emotional afflictions. When he reported [these experiences] to his teacher, Lingre responded, "The Venerable Milarepa had the same experience! It is very wonderful! "55

Clearly, Ling Repa's defInition of religious success was closely tied to the perfection of these physical yogas, a tendency that strongly echoed the repa legacy and heralded an emphasis that would continue in the Drukpa Kagyu lineage for generations. This passage also gives us the impression that Tsangpa was devoted to reclusive practice. But as much as the young ascetic seemed to thrive in the arts of yoga, he is also portrayed as having strong leanings towards communal life as we are informed: "He also acted as an assistant preacher, and never absented himself from the assemblies, and the daily work. "56 The biography suggests that Tsangpa's devotion to community, fostered in the intimate enclave of Napu, would eventually sustain his energy throughout birthing a massive and thriving religious complex. Ling Repa is represented as an interlocutor: he senses his disciple's calling, and shown (at least twice in Tsangpa's biographical account) refusing Tsangpa's entreaties to enter meditative retreat and instead grooming him as a successor.

54 Ibid" p.781. bla ma'i zhal nasi nga la chos shig dris dang gsung! de mi mchi bla ma la thai 'gyur phog na mi rung zhus pas! ngas gnang ba byin pa yin mod gsung! chos sku'i mtshan nyid cig bzhag par zhu zhus pas! skye 'gag gnas gsum dang bral ba yin gsung pa la! '0 na nam mkha' yang chos skur thai 10 gsungs pas Ian med cing mnyes par gyur!

55 Ibid, pp. 781-782. rlung phi nang bsre nus pa dang rtsig pa la thogs pa medpa! nyon rnongs pa'i gyullas rgyal ba sogs bshad tshod tang mthun par byung nas bla ma la zhus pas! rje btsun rni la la'ng 'di Itar byung ba yin! bho mtshar ehe gsung!

56 Ibid., p. 782. zhar ehos gsungs! gro 'dun dang spyi las rna chag!


Nevertheless, his support of Tsangpa's tantric practice is occasionally evidenced. For example, at one point in the biography, he senses Tsangpa's practice would be benefited by a consort and sends Tsangpa to a woman named Kalzang with instructions to train in the "path of methods"57. When Tsangpa arrives at Kalzang's residence, he tells her of his teacher's suggestion.

Kalzang replied, ''I'm willing serve you. I have had many good dreams about you. They portend that if you become a monk, it would benefit many beings. The realization of this teacher of mine [Ling Repa] is the greatest this side of the river Ganges, but he attracts [women] like myself."58

So Tsangpa apparently returned to Napu a single man. This incident in the biography indicates the first clear rhetorical tum away from the hermetic ideals to monastic ones. Not long after this incident, when Tsangpa was twenty-six, Ling Repa passed away.

After his teacher's death, Tsangpa inherited a number of disciples. To some of these, he assigned the task of sustaining Napu and he brought a chosen few with him to Karchu (mkhar chu) where he began a three-year meditative retreat. While he was at Karchu, he would discover the treasure text (gter ma) that would, for the first time, make a prominent Kagyu teacher into treasure-finder. This event may have enormously boosted the young scholar's personal cache and grown the popUlarity of the fledgling Drukpa sect. The text was The Six Cycles of Equal Taste (ro snyoms skor drug), ostensibly a text that Rechungpa brought back from one of his trips to India and later hid at Karchu. The stay at Karchu would also occasion the composition of some of Tsangpa's most evocative and pop.ular songs (mnyam mgur), that would eventually earn him a cherished place in the libraries of many institutions.

After his stay at Karchu, Tsangpa spent some time traveling around Tsang visiting various Kagyu centers, gathering disciples and amassing

57 thab lam, an unambiguous code-word in tbis context for the practice of tantric sexual yoga with a consort.

58 Ibid., p. 782. skal bzang na rei ngas dang kyed kyi zhabs tog bsgrubs pas chag stel nga la khyed fa brten pa 'i rmi lam bzang po mang po byungl khyed rang rab tu byung ba mdzad la 'gra don skyang ba 'thadl ngad rang di bla rna 'di'ang chu ba gang 'a tshun na rtags pa mtha ba Gig yin tel pha rang du 'dus pa 'di nga la sags pa yad pas yin mod gsungl


wealth. Eventually, he met Lama Zhang, who instructed him in the practice of compassion, and encouraged him to take monastic ordination. When Tsangpa was thirty-three years old, he complied. After taking ordination, Tsangpa traveled widely in Western, Central and Northern Tibet, establishing centers and raising funds (a job at which the biography portrays him as particularly adept) which he sent back to Napu.

By the time he returned to Tsang, he had· amassed such wealth and such a huge following that he was able to quickly establish a monastic complex at Druk ('brug), where the biography says a thousand huts were built in the flrst year alone. While acting as abbot of Druk, Tsangpa would continue to make forays into the neighboring landscape, attracting disciples and making connections with wealthy patrons.

One of Tsangpa's greatest strengths it would appear from the account in Deb ther sngon po and evidence found in the biographies of his disciples Urgyenpa, Lorepa and Gotsangpa, was his apparent perception that people were his lineage's greatest resource. He sent his disciples on missions not only to every corner of Tibet, but even to India, Kashmir and Bhutan. It was his adamant wish that every one of his disciples would cover ground, a tendency that eventually earned the Drukpa Kagyu the reputation for being almost everywhere. By the fourteenth century, this reputation had taken hold as Go Lotsawa states: "It is said there was no place in Tibet within a distance that could be covered by a vulture in eighteen days, where disciples belonging to the Drukpa sect could not be found. "59 It also says in the Annals that Tsangpa emphasized three main points to his disciples: "to have disgust for worldly matters, to mentally abandon concern for this life and to cultivate devotion to the lama"60. These three admonitions were strongly reflective of the core Kagyu values of asceticism and devotion, and would set a tone for Drukpa lineage's general suspicion of scholastic agendas.

Tsangpa passed away in 1211. The biography states that his cremation was accompanied by miraculous signs and the twenty-one joints of his

59 Ibid., p. 785. bya rgod kyi nyin lam beo brgyad du 'brug pa'i bu slob kyis ma khyab pa med bya ba byung.

60 Ibid., p. 784. slob ma rnams la 'jig rten gyi zhen logl tshe bios btang gi sgrub pal bla ma'i mos gus gsum gtso bor 'dzin du beug ...


spine turned into twenty-one images of Tara, most of which were said (at Go Lotsawa's time) to be preserved inside a stl1pa at Ralung.

v. Content and Themes

If the reader is left with one impression from reading these two biographical accounts, it is that Ling Repa Padma Dorje and Tsangpa Gyare Yeshe Dorje are rhetorically divergent personalities. Ling Repa, on the one hand, was a wandering bard, with only vague commitments to the concept of establishment. His interest in women and his composition of tantric commentaries without having so much as read the tantras paint him as a bit of a wild card. But his unconventionality fmds expression as the normative Kagyu outlet of ascetic existence on the fringe of religious society. Tsangpa Gyare, on the other, was a consolidator and invested some value in scholasticism and institutions. His efforts at composing original treatises for the incipient Drukpa sect and his amassing of disciples and wealth indicate a concern with establishment. In this respect, these founders embody the dual impulses in the Kagyu lineage: impulses towards iconoclasm and civility, towards wildness and tameness, towards ascetic practice and community. To fully explore the web of tensions and ideological enigmas stemming from these impulses would be an extensive project. In the remainder of this essay, I will touch lightly on a few topics that emerge organically form a reading of these biographical accounts, as a gesture towards more in-depth study in the future. I have selected three themes that reflect some version of the tensions mentioned above: the theme of solitude, the theme of poetic composition and the theme of travel.

Bringing the Mountains to Town

The Kagyu lineage's self-declared emphasis has always been on devotion to the teacher, undergoing long-term retreat, and the practice of intense yogic exercises, to some degree uncomplicated by textual study. The Kagyu disciple's tasks, then, requires intensive apprenticeship with a guru and years in solitary retreat, not necessarily affiliation with an institution (at least ideally). In Lingre and Tsangpa's biographies, there is ample evidence of devotional gestures (such as Tsangpa's indenture-


ship to build Lingre's temple), and-as is typical for Kagyu disciplesLingre and Tsangpa both spend a period of apprenticeship with their teachers. After that, the protagonists follow the lineage template for entering a period of solitary (or semi-solitary) retreat in the mountains, a living situation that is considered most noble and efficacious for the practice of intensive yogic exercises.

However, if mountain solitude was so ideal for the attainment of the most cherished of Kagyu aims, why did individuals like Ling Repawho seemed so interested in his youth in following Rechungpa's ascetic example-and Tsangpa Gyare-who poured such energy into yogic practice-bother with the establishment of centers? While this is a complicated question that could really only be investigated by thoroughly reading all the primary literature available, I would suggest that the content of these biographies indicate two reasons may have been of primary concern. First, there was the simple fact of economic practicality: even yogis have to eat, and the acquisition of supplies is easier for a group. Second, these early patriarchs recognized that the survival of their brilliantly developed soteriology of ascetic practice ironically depended on enclosing it in the walls of scholastic synthesis.

As to the first reason: life is harsh on the Tibetan plateau. The laity in the 12th century eked out a living through animal husbandry and some agriculture at low elevations. The role of the wandering yogi, a part intermittently adopted by Ling Repa and Tsangpa Gyare, required begging for food from already poor farmers and nomads. There are a number of references in these accounts to the mendicant's livelihood. Ling Repa, for instance, first meets Menmo on a begging round. We are also told that Tsangpa Gyare relied exclusively on the generosity of lay patrons while he was traveling in his early years around central Tibet. The most direct reference to the economic hardships of yogic life is made when Sumpa Repa sends Ling Repa away with the invective, "Now go! In our country of Nyal, even ogres die from hunger! "61 Clearly, death by malnourishment or starvation was never a distant possibility for yogis who lived alone or in small groups on the arid plateau. In this light, it is easy to

61 "Grub thob chen po gling chen ras pa padma rdo rje'i mam par thar pa", Volume I, folio 377. gzhen du song/ nged kyi dmyal 'di srin po rtogs ris shi ba'i 10 rgyus mang po bshad/


understand how individuals such as our two protagonists would be attracted to and concerned with consolidation of resources and the economic security it could provide for religious specialists.

As to the second reason: concern for independent survival of the Drukpa lineage and soteriology must have been a prime motivator for the institutional push. The religious fecundity of the renaissance period, especially in the regions of Central, Western and South-western Tibet, bred stiff competition between lineages. All around them, according to accounts in the Blue Annals and Institutional Histories of the time, lamas and their disciples were consolidating and building institutions, attracting lay patronage and amassing wealth. The trajectory of Ling Repa's life (and a number of specific references in the biography) suggests he was at least suspicious of monastic agenda. For example, after his hermitage is robbed by a monk, he declared "Just by shaving everyone's heads, religion does not occur! "62 But even Ling Repa must have felt concerned for the survival of his incipient repa legacy, as he invested energy in building a temple at Napu and, according to the biographical account, commanded Tsangpa to "Take care of my Napu! "63 Still, there is no evidence in the biographies that Lingre's original vision for his center and Tsangpa's eventual conversion to a monastic model were congruent Tsangpa's biography states that he did not take vows until relatively late in life, long after Lingre's death, a decision perhaps delayed by fidelity to his teacher's preferences.

Despite Tsangpa's eventual reluctant conversion to the monastic agenda (we are told in Tsangpa's biography that Zhang Rinpoche did not convince him of the merits of monasticism easily), he attempted to affect a kind of synthesis of the yogic ideal with the realities of institutional projects. One way in which he actuated this uneasy marriage is to disperse his disciples physically to the far comers of the Himalaya. In this way, he bred disciples who were hybrids of the peripatetic yogi and the zealous missionary. One such disciple, whose embodiment of this ideal was legendary, was Lorepa who lived a brilliantly ascetic life but managed also to travel to Bhutan, convert many followers to the Kagyu way and found

62 Ibid., YoU, folio 387. tham cad kyi skra bregs phyis chos ni ma byung gsung. 63 'gas 10 tsa ba gzhon nu dpal, deb ther sngon po, page 782. "nga'i sna phu gzung."


a community there that still exists. Tsangpa also invested the solidifying Drukpa sect with yogic ideals through his compositions, which will be discussed below.

The Power of Poetry

There is no distinctly Kagyu geme more widely read, quoted and appreciated by Tibetan religious specialists and laity (regardless of their sectarian affiliation) than spiritual "songs of experience" (mnyam mgur), a literary form in which the tensions of wildness and tameness converge. The appeal of these songs probably comes from the nature of their authorship, as well as their content. Unlike most forms of literary expression in the 12th century, spiritual songs did not derive their authority from other texts (such as the blooming exegetical literature), from prophesy (such as terma) or from ostensible ties to exalted places or individuals. Spiritual songs, in fact, did not claim authority from any other source than the inspiration of a vagrant poet. While this form of melodic expression lent credibility to its author and derived clout from its author's celebrity, it was nevertheless "democratic in impulse" . Kagyu songs convey a strong message that exalted states of mind and insights are accessible to anyone, given the right circumstances, and the liberty to express these insights is universal.

As for their content, spiritual songs are wholly rooted in the Tibetan , landscape and are therefore an expression of the renaissance passion to create a distinctively Tibetan form of Buddhist literature. In the case of songs, this form is a compelling mix of non-elaborate (almost zen-like) instructions and evocative natural metaphors: it would not be too simplistic to say that spiritual songs are couched in a rhetoric and rhythmic form of naturalness. They commonly refer to images such as the stunning vastness of Himalayan valleys, a snow mountain at sunrise, or the distinctive warble of a local bird. Even as early as the 7th century, as evidenced in the Dun Huang manuscripts, poetry was rife with natural and local imagery64. These poems were composed in the vernacular and use imagery

64 See excerpts from Dun Huang poetry in rOyal, Don grub, Bod kyi mgur glu byung 'phel gyi 10 rgyus dang khyad ehos bsdus par ston pa rig pa'i khe'u room par rtsen pa'i skyed tshal, in dPal don grub rgyal gyi gsung 'bum. Peking: Mi rigs dpe skrun khang, 1997.

400 W. BLYTHE .MILLER

of objects familiar to ordinary Tibetan people, not the rarified language of academic discourse and metaphors associated with Indian precedents. An excerpt from Tsangpa Gyare's Eight Flourishings of a Lance, written during his immurement at Karchu, provides us with an example:

Having determined just how things really are, I don't prefer nirvana over samsara. Certain, without the fluctuations of discursive mind, My view is like a lance, spinning free in the open sky!

Stable since the root is cut, My six aggregates rest without fabrication. Without the effort of mindfulness and grasping, My meditation is like a lance, spinning free in the open sky!

Experiences arise unhindered. I am free of anxiety, timidity and reserve. Victorious over fixation and grasping, My conduct is like a lance, spinning free in the open sky! 65

Tsangpa's song is typical of Kagyu songs of experience in its evocation of a sense of freedom and ease-the kind of words that express the unencumbered lifestyle of the wandering ascetic. But his use of the manmade lance as the central positive metaphor of his poem is a most compelling literary device. The lance is both an artifact of civilization and a symbol of man's most savage instincts. Is the message that the tools of war are not without good use? Lama Zhang, after all, who was living in the same region and was of the same lineage (and would later ordain Tsangpa), was at the height of his military escapades to compel his neighbors to accept certain religious affiliations. But just as easily, it might be possible to interpret the metaphor as pacifist-throw up your weapons (and your civilized affiliations) and let everything go. In any case, Tsangpa was adept at finding ways to adapt the soteriological messages of his lineage to the material culture of his day.

Examples of the direct and non-elaborate practical instructions are found everywhere in the genre of spiritual songs. These terse and clear invectives were intended to communicate the essence of mahamudra, the

65 Tsangpa Gyare, "Eight Flourishings of a Lance", taught by Khenpo Tsultrirn Gyatso at Kagyu Thubten Choling in Wappinges Falls, 1997.


non-dual and non-conceptual realization of the nature of mind. Ling Repa sings:

If you do not rest in mind just as it is No other remedy will make things right. So all my doubts about whether it's like this or not Have vanished into thin air.

Following the same style of composition, Tsangpa sings:

Hey! Hey! Do you know what dharmakaya is? It's letting mind relax just as it is. Discursive thought is free, just like it isGetting your mind around it is impossible! 66

These mahamudra songs were intended to convey the direct experience of the yogi looking at his own mind for the benefit of his listeners. This kind of versified format augmented the more formal Kagyu precepts, and the colloquial style of expression had the advantage of being easy to memorize and access for the average Tibetan. Making direct instruction available through song is a strong support for individual empowerment.

Nevertheless, despite the impulse of these founders towards a rhetoric of naturalness, they were pragmatists who saw the value of developing an exegetical tradition, composing ritual manuals and writing practice texts. Yet, within this more scholastic and ritual vein, both Ling Repa and Tsangpa Gyare were clearly concerned with prioritizing meditative experience and individual practice over complicated academic exegesis. This apparent contradiction is resolved in part both in the circumstances of composition and their content. For example, the vision a blue muselike female that inspires Ling Repa to compose commentaries on tantra is reminiscent of prajfiaparamita, the mahayana symbol for emptiness, the natural state of things expressed in Kagyu sources as a synonym for mahiimudra. The mediator of Ling Repa' s composition of scholastic exegesis was, it may be possible to surmise, a natural impulse, symbolized by the blue dakini. Similarly, the most brilliant accomplishment of Tsangpa's lifetime, his discovery of the Rechungpa terma, resulted in a

66 Both quotes from Khenpo Tsultrim Gyatso, Songs of Realization by Milarepa and Other Buddhist Masters, trans. Ari Goldfield (Unpublished).


text that traced its pedigree both to the repa tradition' (associated with solitary life) and to the motherland of India (the original land of institu_ tional Buddhism). The ptestige of this discovery was rightly timed to identify Tsangpa as the rising representative of the repa tradition. But the identification of the terma with Indian origins can also be interpreted as· a sign that the incipient Drukpa lineage was poised to compete in the' religious landscape of central Tibet ..

The Cache of Travel

It can perhaps safely be said that no inchoate lineage of the Renaissance period was more aware of the oblique power of quiet expansion over distance than the Drukpa Kagyu. As mentioned before, Tsangpa instigated the model of the peripatetic missionary who, in the guise of the ascetic, moves into territory and claims it for his disciples. This was the Drukpa's

. signature pattern for centuries. However, in these two biographies, there is evidence that local travel was an important aspect of consolidation~ Both Ling Repa and Tsangpa Gyare travel extensively around Central . and Western Tibet. In the accounts of Ling Repa and Tsangpa Gyare, travel is portrayed as a way of (1) gathering students, (2) amassing wealth, (3) consecrating places, (4) networking. In the case of Ling Repa, the 'ba ra biography portrays him as reticent to let his missions turn into fmancial ventures. While traveling from Nyangpo (myang po) to Nagsho (nags shod), a geshe and his students approached Lingre asking for empowerment:

[The Geshe said], "Each person taught will offer you one cow. Accept our' .,.> property!" Lingre replied, "I will not sell the thigh bone of the Kagyus. if 1 don't need your wealth!,,01

Despite his depicted integrity, however, Ling Repa is later seen accepting wealth and property in quantity for the construction of N apu. Tsangpa Gyare, for his part, is depicted as unabashed about embarking on fundrais-

67 "Grub thob chen po gling chen ras pa padma rdo rje'i mam par thar pa", Volume . I, folio 389-390. ston mi res 'dzo mo re 'bul ba yin/ ka cha zhad gcig snoms zer ba la/

bka' brgyud kyi bla 'tshong mi byed nor gyis dgos pa med gsungs .. .! To sell the thigh bone of someone after death (for use in making a trumpet for the ritual practice of chod) is considered disrespectful to the deceased. Similarly, if Ling Repa were to keep offerings made in reciprocation for his religious services, it would be disrespecting his lineage.


ing missions, since he quickly spent the money on building Druk, Napu and Ralung.

Resources of other kinds could also be accessed through travel. In order to receive teachings from Sumpa Repa and Pagmo Drupa, Ling Repa is portrayed as traveling for days (perhaps weeks) to neighboring provinces. Tsangpa collects Kagyu texts and transmissions wherever they can be found on the road. A reader gets the impression from the whole of Chapter VITI in the deb ther sngon po, that teaching exchanges and books were a major factor of the religious economy during the Renaissance period. Not only were they fodder for reciprocity, they also lent prestige to the individual who possessed the teaching. For these two protagonists, these social, economic and religious exchanges were especially important, although Tsangpa Gyare seems to have been the founder who recognized the lasting impact this prestige would lend to the lineage. Hence, education and textual transmission were a driving force behind travel for these two hierarchs.

Travel was also a way of appropriating place for the express purposes of validating the lineage. One way place was appropriated was through consecration, the construction of sacredness through a ritual event. The most dramatic example of the construction of sacredness in these biog-

.raphies is Tsangpa's discovery of terma at Karchu. The discovery of a terma at a Kagyu meditative site might well have changed that place forever in local imagination, and in the eyes of the lineage, if examples of terma discovery in Tibet in general are any indication. Wealso see the construction of sacredness in a more concrete way with the construction oftemples and stupas. For example, we are informed that Tsangpa Gyare's remains were placed in a smpa at Ralung. The construction of stupas around prominent Tibetan gurus immortalized them in the imagination of their followers, transforming and ordinary piece of ground into a pilgrimage spot, a literal abode of a Buddha.

In the relationship of these two founders with place, we can see something of the tension between wishing to retain a connection with the lifestyle of the mountain hermit with an awareness of the necessity of pinning their lineage to one place. Ling Repa's biography informs us that

It was unanimously agreed that from Arodo and Kham to China and Mongolia, in the five upper regions and the three districts, among people who practiced listening, contemplating and meditating on the Dharma, there was

404 W'. BLYTHE MILLER

not one [place] where people had not been made beggars'by listening to his songs68•

Although a critical reader might suspect a degree of exaggeration in this passage, he or she might concede that it expresses the lineage's recogni_ tion that Lingre' s particular message to take up the solitary life of a wandering mendicant reached a wide swath of the Himalayas. Ling Repa's interest in travel, however, is augmented by his interest in centralizing a legacy in one place: the hermitage of Napu. He selects Napu's location for its isolation, but gradually allows its expansion into a community. Tsangpa's way of reconciling his dual affiliation was to design Ralung as a neighborhood of hermits. Instead of building one or several large structures to house his monks, he insists on making 1000 individual huts where each meditator could maintain some measure of solitude. He designed his place to allow for close interactions without giving in wholly to the design of a single establishment.

VI. Conclusion

As mentioned above, it is assumed, and sometimes even explicitly stated in indigenous Tibetan sources, that many founders of lineages are only seen as such in retrospect. Examining compositions, biographical and autobiographical accounts that are contemporary with the lives of founders often reveals little or no clear evidence that a given individual or his contemporaries identified him as sire of a religious order. So what eventually uplifts a man to the heights of founder-hood? What is it that legitimates his status? Is it his cultural cache? The texts and practices he has inherited? The monasteries he built? His activities? His charisma? His compositions? Looking at stories of Ling Repa and Tsangpa Gyare yields evidence that it may be all of these things to some degree. The emphasis in these stories on hermetic ideals, poetic composition and itinerate activities suggest that the founders of the Drukpa lineage were in part defined by these parameters and skills.

68 Ibid., Vol. I, folio 402. bsnyan pa ni ... smad mdo khams rgya so yan chad nas stod snga ris bskor gsum man chad kyi thos bsam sgom gsum mdzad pa'i chos pa rnams 'gur fa sprang po mi byed pa ni gcig kyang med/


More broadly, however, I would suggest that the genre of nam thar (biography or hagiography) and the representations found therein are largely responsible for defining the parameters of "founderhood". Those parameters are fraught with ambiguity, tensions and paradoxes that become a part of the fabric of lineage self-identification, so that the complex interplay of events, personality traits and interactions found in biography become a part of the defining traits of lineage, and provide suggested models and behavior patterns for the followers of that lineage to reflect on and sometimes emulate either wittingly or unwittingly. Some details in the biographies suggest that the personas of these founders were in part retrospective constructions consciously created by later biographers. For example, the past-life digression found in Ling Repa's biography, even if its inclusion was orchestrated by Ling Repa himself, seems to serve a function of constructing a sutric ethos around the protagonist. However, some details in the biographies seem to lack a necessarily constructive agenda. Merely the diachronically and geographically local atmosphere in which the events of the biographies take place are in large part responsible for creating the persona of these founders. The idiosyncratic personalities of the founders themselves, while doubtless subject to construction by the biographies' authors, were also to some degree responsible for the flavor of the biographical tales woven around them. Therefore, I submit that the "founderhood" created by biography emerges from a complex set of sources and materials: some rhetorically constructed and some historical, social, regional, and personal.

There are numerous examples of the ambiguities, tensions and paradoxes-some already mentioned earlier in this paper-that emerge from such the complex rhetorical portraits in biography. To provide one more example will illustrate an ambiguity that becomes a cornerstone on which founderhood rests. Even while biography is certainly composed as an ode to a saint's greatness, this ode is not complete without the overcoming of weaknesses to become great. Both Ling Repa and Tsangpa's biographies make specific mention of their human weaknesses. Ling Repa's inability to resist Menmo's charm, and his loss of faith in his teacher Khyung Tsangpa (later resulting in his failure in yogic practice) depict Ling Repa as facing human challenges familiar to most readers. Similarly Tsangpa experiences shame and embarrassment for his own laziness, when he


attempts to evade the physical work of building Ling Repa's temple. This element of human weakness is, throughout Tibetan biographies, an important theme and it may be possible to conclude that encountering and overcoming personal weaknesses is an element of founderhood, at least in the Kagyu lineage, so that even after centuries of transmission Lingre and Tsangpa's "weaknesses" have still not been edited out.

But it cannot be overlooked that the status of "founders" may be due to other-seemingly arbitrary-factors. It is difficult not to suspect that while some individuals were posthumously elevated to the level of sainthood due to the alignment of successful patron relationships for example, a great many extraordinary stars of the plateau died with their names lost to history due to such chance happenings as stormy weather, disease, fire and so forth. Ling Repa too might well have sunk into obscurity if it had not been for a few serendipitous circumstances. Two factors in particular stand out as moiras that would situate him at the head of the Drukpa Sects. First was simply legitimacy by relationship: he was the disciple of Pagmo Drupa, one of the most prominent and popular monastic teachers in the Tsang region in the 12th century. He was also luckily the teacher of Tsangpa Gyare, who consciously accepted the burden of creating a legacy and therefore was perhaps more deserving of founder status. Second, Ling Repa co-founded Ralung, a center that would become the seat of the Drukpa Kagyu abbatial succession for 400 years. He was literally the brick-layer of a structure that would house future generations of Drukpa adherents. What began during his lifetime as a small hermitage would blossom into a cosmopolitan center of learning, a repository of wealth and texts, a political corporation-in short a sectarian establishment of the kind mentioned earlier by Snellgrove. Therefore, Ling Repa' s status as a founder is largely based on relationship and his identity as the architect of Ralung.

While Ling Repa may be seen as the physical builder of place, Tsangpa Gyare was the Drukpa Kagyu's first soteriological, hermenuetical and textual architect. His most brilliant accomplishments in this area were undoubtedly his discover of the Rechungpa terma that would transform a struggling tradition into the gem of Tsang, and his composition of a number of a number of texts that would become the defining exegesis of the Drukpa Kagyu. He showed the characteristics of a great synthesizer,


embedding his compositions in Kagyu hermeneutics. He also integrated his lineage into the monastic establishment, a move that would ensure its long-term survival in the increasingly institutional environment of central Jibet.

While their status as founders was originally linked to place and composition, their elevation was likely due in part to the value placed by Tibetans on narratives. While this essay was primarily concerned with the Tibetan biography as a semi-historical document with rhetoric comIllunicating the tensions inherent in the concept of "lineage" and "founderhood", it can be read in numerous other ways. These narratives are also, in a sense, myths that embody an interplay between humanity and sacredness that communicates meanings in ways more allusive and Profound than many other indigenous forms of literary expression. AB Matthew Kapstien, discussing narrative in the Tibetan context, observes:

... mythic matters seem to be more subtle than the facts of the matter, so that the truth in myth may be thought to be expressed allegorically, metaphorically or approximately; or myth may be thought just to orient us towards truth so buried in mystery that no human discourse can disclose it directly69.

While the actual activities of these founders were constrained by time and circumstance, their stories became important templates on which ideals of the lineage were modeled. And while these stories were also sometimes elaborated on over the centuries and reconstructed to reflect the agendas of given time periods and authors, perhaps the rewritinginstead of irking the historian in all of us-may turn out to be the very recipe that allows us to evaluate meanings pertinent to time and place, and transcendent of time and place, encoded therein.

Reference Bibliography

Cabezon, Jose Ignacio and Roger R. Jackson. Tibetan Literature: Studies in Genre. Ithaca: Snow Lion Publications, 1996.

Davidson, Ronald M. Tibetan Renaissance: Tantric Buddhism in the Rebirth of Tibetan Culture New York: Columbia University Press, 2005.

69 Matthew Kapstein, The Tibetan Assimilation of Buddhism: Conversion, Contestation and Memory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 142.


Garnpopa. Jewel Ornament of Liberation, trans. Khenpo Konchog Gyaltsen, ed. Ani K. Trinlay Chodron. Ithaca: Snow Lion Publications, 1998.

Gyatso, Janet. Apparitions af the Self: The Secret Autobiographies of a Tibetan Visionary. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998. .

Gyatso, Khenpo Tsultrim. Songs of Realization by Milarepa and Other Buddhist Masters, trans. Ari Goldfield (Unpublished).

Kapstein, Matthew. The Tibetan Assimilation of Buddhism: Conversion, Con. testation and Memory. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000.

Kagyu Thubten Choling Translation Committee. Karmapa: The sacred proph. esy. Wappingers Falls, NY: Kagyu Thubten ChoIing, 1999. .

Lopez, Donald S., ed. Religions of Asia in Practice. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2002

Roerich, George N. trans. The Blue Annals. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers, 1949; reprint, 1996.

Snellgrove, David. Indo·Tibetan Buddhism: Indian Buddhists and their Tibetan successors. Boston: Sharnbala Publications, 1987.

Thaye, Jarnpa. A Garland of Gold: The early Kagyu masters in India and Tibet. Briston: Ganesha Press, 1990.

Other References

Websites:

www.tbrc.org www.thdl.org www.druk;pa.org

Tibetan Texts:

'Gos 10 tsa ba gzhon nu dpal. deb ther sngon po. Chengdu: Si-khron mi-rigs dpe-skrun-khan, 1984.

"Grub thob chen po gling chen ras pa padma rdo rje'i rnarn par thar pa" in 'ba' , ra bka' brgyud gser 'phreng chen mo. Dehradun: Ngawang Gyaltsen and

Ngawang Lungtok, 1970, Volume I.


Appendix I: The Kagyu Lineage (Simplified outline including some individuals mentioned in this paper)

Saraha Tilopa Maitripa ___________ 1 _________

Naropa

I Marpa

I Milarepa

--------- -----------Rechungpa Gampopa . I _________ ___________

~Sumpa Repa Pagmo Drupa Lama Zhang

---------I -============--~ ~bri khung pa Ling Repa stag lung pa zwa ra ba rgyal tsha

I Tsangpa Gyare

sangs rgyas dbon ras

Middle Druk

Appendix II: The Drukpa Lineage

(Simplified outline)

Ling Repa

I Tsangpa Gyare

~-I~--rgya

yag pa Lorepa

Lower Druk

yang dgon pa

Upper Druk

Gotsangpa . rkyang rna pa spa ri ba

~ u rgyan pa

Urgyen Druk

.,. .... o

~ tri

~

~

~

MATERIALS FOR A MADHY AMIKA CRITIQUE OF FOUNDATIONALISM: AN ANNOTATED TRANSLATION OF

PRASANNAPADA. 55.11 TO 75.13

DAN ARNOLD

Introductiou 1

The Prasannapada is an important but sometimes frustrating text. Nagarjuna's M iilamadhyamakakiirikii (MMK) is available to us today in the original Sanskrit only as embedded in this commentary by CandrakIrti (fl. 600 CE), which is the only commentary on Nagarjuna's text known to have survived in the original Sanskrit2. But CandrakIrti himself seems to have had little influence on the subsequent course cif Indian philosophy; it was, rather, almost invariably the works of DharmakIrti and his philosophical heirs that were taken up by later Indian philosophers (Brahmanical and Buddhist alike). Despite that fact, Candrakllti's influence on the larger reception of Indian Madhyamaka has been considerable, owing to his having been judged by most Tibetan traditions of interpretation to represent the definitive interpretation of Madhyamaka philosophy, which is almost unanimously claimed by Tibetans to represent the pinnacle of Buddhist thought. This fact itself is striking, not only because of Candraldrti's negligible influence in the Indian context, but because the scholastic traditions of Buddhist philosophy were directly introduced to Tibet by Santarak~ita (725-788) and KamalasIla (740-795) - whose

1 My work on this text has benefited, over the years, from conversations and study with several people. I would like to thank, in particular, Larry McCrea (with whom I read through the whole text) and Shelly Pollock for discussions concerning various aspects of the Sanskrit; and, for their generously detailed and thoughtful readings of one of the most recent drafts of this article, Rick Nance and Ulrich T. Kragh. I also benefited from the helpful comments of an anonymous reviewer. It should be noted, in addition, that my work on this text would not have been possible without the [me work that has been done on this and related passages by David Seyfort Ruegg, Mark Siderits, and Tom Tillemans.

2 Ruegg 1981: 1, n.3.


412 DAN ARNOLD

thought, though surely affiliated with the Madhyamaka 'tradition in which Candraklrti stands, reflects the predominance of thinkers (like DharmakIrti) whose approach is (on CandrakIrti's own view, at least) generally antithetical to Candrakirti's. I suspect that this historical fact at least partly explains the extent to which Tibetan interpreters claim Candraldrti as normative, while yet retaining much of the epistemological discourse that he so clearly rejected3•

Not only, though, is the Prasannapadii thus historically puzzling, it is also discursively rather odd. In places, Candrakirti's Sanskrit is extremely lucid, almost conversational; there are sections that the intermediate Sanskrit student can pick up and read with some confidence. He displays a great familiarity with the grammatical traditions of Brahmanicallearning4

- and also, as Karen Lang (2003) has emphasized particularly with respect to the first four chapters of the CatuJ:zsatakatfkii, with the literature of Sanskrit stories and dharmasiistras. These facts are as befits someone who claims, as CandrakIrti characteristically does, always to defer to and exemplify "conventional usage" (lokavyavahiira). And yet, as no less a scholar than the estimable J. W. de Jong observed, the first chapter, in particular, is difficult5. It seems to me that it is not always clear whether this is so chiefly because of CandrakIrti's Sanskrit, or because the logic of the arguments is hard to follow. Like those of Nagarjuna, CandrakIrti's arguments can seem at once pregnant with import, and maddeningly elusive and paradoxical. CandrakIrti's examples of "ordinary" reasoning that is "familiar in the world," for instance, are often counterintuitive, perhaps as much to his Indian readers as to the modem interpreter.

The elusive character of the arguments is often reflected in some puzzles concerning the deep structure of the dialectic - that is, even more than is typically the case with Sanskrit philosophical works, it is often a difficult question which voice, as it were, speaks each part of the argument. Needless to say, it makes a good deal of difference to one's sense of the argument whether one takes a particular point to be made in sup-

3 On the introduction of Candraldrti' s thought to Tibet, see Lang 1992. 4 See, e.g., Bhattacharya 1980, 1980-8l. 5 Cf., de Jong's review (1981) of Sprung 1979, where he laments that Sprung's knowl

edge of Sanskrit was insufficient to the task of translating "such a difficult text."

MATERIALS FOR A MADHYAMIKA CRITIQUE OF FOUNDATIONALISM 413

port of the position that CandrakIrti is working to defend - or instead to be precisely the pbint he means to attack. Alas, it is not always compellingly self-evident simply from the formal features of text which of these is the case, and some tricky questions bedevil the would-be translator of CandrakIrti' s work.

While my familiarity with Tibetan traditions of interpretation is not great enough that I can comment authoritatively, it seems clear to me that the influence of these can be said particularly to inform much modern interpretation of CandrakIrti's texts. A case in point is the "sviitantrikapriisafdka" division of Madhyamaka philosophy - which, although not without basis in the antecedent Indian texts, represents a particularly doxographicallens imposed by Tibetans6. I would consider it an uncontroversial remark to say that David Seyfort Ruegg - long one of the leading historians and interpreters of Indo-Tibetan Madhyamika literature -has been influenced over the years by his significant engagement with certain Tibetan traditions of interpretation7•

Recently, Ruegg has made another signal contribution to the study of Indo-Tibetan Madhyamaka; his modestly titled Two Prolegomena to Madhyamaka Philosophy (2002) comprises a nearly complete translation of chapter one of the Prasannapadii, along with commentaries thereon by the seminal dGe-Iugs-pa thinkers Tsong-kha-pa and rGyal-tshab-rje8• The first chapter of CandrakIrti's text has long been recognized to be of par-

6 See Dreyfus and McClintock 2003. Cf., Ruegg's comment (1981 :51, ff.) on the likely Tibetan origins of these doxographical terms.

7 See, among his many works, Ruegg 1981 (which remains the definitive survey of the topic), 2000, and 2002 (which will be much engaged in the present article). For a critical assessment of some of the characteristically Tibetan interpretations generally upheld by Ruegg, see Oetke 2003a.

8 More precisely, Ruegg has translated that portion of CandrakIrti's chapter that is framed as commenting specifically on the first verse of Nagiirjuna's root text; in the standard edition of CandrakIrti's text (La Vallee Poussin 1970a, as supplemented by de Jong 1978), that means pp.I-75, in a chapter of 91 pages. (The edition of Vaidya [1960] largely reproduces La Vallee Poussin's edition, and gives the pagination thereof.) The first chapter of the Prasannapada was translated into English by Stcherbatsky (1927), whose work, though dated and eccentric, remains useful. The partial translation of Sprung (1979) is the closest there is to a complete translation of the Prasannapada into English, but should be used with caution; cf., the reviews by de Jong (1981) and Steinkellner (1982). Other Western-language translations from the Prasannapada (e.g., May 1959, Schayer 1931) do not include the first chapter.

414 DAN ARNOLD

ticular importance, comprising as it does some of Candrakirti's most extensive and systematic engagement with what he took to be alternative understandings of Madhy"amaka, and of Buddhist thought more generally. The ftrst chapter of the Prasannapadii has become a locus classicus, in particular, for what Tibetan traditions emphasized as the split between the "Svatantrika" and "Prasarigika" schools of Madhyamaka. Perhaps following the emphasis of the Tibetan tradition, most contemporary scholars have been principally concerned to understand this aspect of Candrakirti' s opening chapter9.

What has less often been appreciated is that the first chapter of the Prasannapadii also comprises a lengthy engagement with an unnamed interlocutor whose thought looks very much like that of Dignaga. In the standard edition of the Prasannapadii, this section spans some twenty pageslO• Despite its thus constituting fully a fifth of the chapter, this section has been little studied. This scholarly neglect perhaps owes something to the fact that some influential Tibetan discussions of at least parts of this section take CandrakIrti to have been continuing his attack on Bhiivaviveka, so that what can very well be read as an engagement with Dignaga's epistemology gets subsumed in the sViitantrika-priisangika discussion that has instead preoccupied most scholars. ll I would argue, though, that understanding Candrakirti's arguments here as an engagement specifically with the epistemology of Dignaga affords us an unusually good opportunity for appreciating the logically distinctive character of Candrakirti's Madhyamaka.

It should be noted that I am here making a chiefly philosophical point, and that the historical question of Candrakirti's target is perhaps more complex. As a matter of intellectual history, the texts of Dignaga were variously circulated and appropriated, and it may be difficult (if not impos-

9 In addition to the recent work of Dreyfus and McClintock, see Yotsuya 1999, which provides a useful text-critical analysis of the relevant passages from the original Indian sources of CandrakIrti, Buddhapalita, and Bhavaviveka (or "Bhaviveka" - though CandrakIrti uses the former name).

10 La Vallee Poussin's 1970a:55.11-75.13. 11 For the view that CandrakIrti is still addressing Bhavaviveka in at least part of this

section of the text, cf., Thurman 1991:292-295, which translates a section of Tsong-khapa's Legs bshad snying po based on a discussion occurring at Prasannapadii 66.1-68.4. Cf., also, Eckel 1978, Huntington 2003, Yoshimizu 1996:49-94.


sible) to determine whether CandrakIrti finally had Digniiga himself chiefly in mind, or Dignaga as appropriated by, say, Bhavaviveka. (It is, though, interesting in this regard that although CandrakIrti recurrently names Bhavaviveka as the target of his critique - and Buddhapiliia as the thinker he defends - in the sections of the text that constitute the locus classicus for the sviitantrika-priisangika debate, his interlocutor in the section here translated goes unnamed.) From a philosophical perspectiv~, there is a sense in which it may not finally matter whether it is particularly Dignaga whom CandrakIrti had in mind, or whether he here targets that part of Bhavaviveka's project that is informed by Dignaga; for in either case, CandrakIrti can be said to have philosophical problems with Dignaga's project. The logically distinctive character of Candraldrti's arguments, then, can in either case be appreciated by considering the arguments here developed vis-a.-vis the arguments of Dignaga. There is, I am suggesting, some specifically philosophical value in appreciating particularly what it is about Dignaga's approach that CandrakIrti would refuse12•

It is in the hope of facilitating the appreciation of this interesting exchange that I here offer a translation of this section of CandrakIrti' s Prasannapadii, and that I will occasionally identify CandrakIrti's inter

.locutor as "Dignaga." The most detailed study of the passage here translated is the illuminating work of Mark Siderits (1981), who evinces an insightful grasp of the conceptual significance of the passages, even where his translations are problematic. Siderits in turn gets some help from Satkari Mookerjee (1957), whose work basically paraphrases Candraldrti's text; and from Masaaki Hattori, whose extensively annotated translation of the first chapter of Dignaga's Pramiif;laSamuccaya (1968) makes frequent reference to CandrakIrti!3. Since the publication of Siderits's article, our understanding of CandrakIrti's principled objections to the foundationalist trajectory of Buddhist philosophy have been much advanced

12 Nevertheless, there are several points at which CandrakIrti seems clearly to have had Dignaga's text before him (many of which were noted by Hattori 1968), and these will be noted as we proceed.

13 Hattori's annotations thus represent a useful source for appreciating the likelihood that Candraldrti' s interlocutor is Dignaga, with Hattori often pointing out where CandrakIrti's engagement closely tracks Dignaga's text.

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by the work of Tom Tillemans, whose study and translation of Candraklrti's commentary on chapters 12 and 13 of A.ryadeva's Catuly,sataka represent a philosophically sophisticated engagement with texts that closely parallel the arguments in our section of the Prasannapad{j14. The characterization of CandrakIrti's critique of Dignaga's foundationalism that is ventured by Georges Dreyfus(1997:4S1-60) chiefly follows the work of Siderits and Tillemans.

While the aforementioned works are enormously helpful .in philosophically situating CandrakIrti's Madhyamaka vis-a-vis the foundationalism of Dignaga, it can still be said that there is a relative paucity of studies of this important text, and that close readings of CandrakIrti ' s critique of Dignaga as that is developed in the Prasannapadii remain a desideratum. I have developed a philosophical interpretation of this section elsewhere15. It is partly owing to the rather more speculative character of my other works (which, though interpreting his texts, amount to "rational reconstructions" of CandrakIrti's arguments) that I here want to venture a more literal interpretation in the form of a translation. I also venture this, however, in light of the extent of occasionally significant divergence between my translation and that of Ruegg. To be sure, Ruegg's translation - which is informed by Ruegg's particular appreciation for the Tibetan reception of CandrakIrti - is likely to become a standard reference for this portion of the Prasannapada. This is as it should be, since Ruegg's translation is (as expected) generally quite reliable. It is also, however, not likely to be very accessible to non-Sanskritists. More significantly, there is an important sense in which Ruegg's translation -which occasionally deploys the kinds of locutions that Paul Griffiths memorably characterized as "Buddhist hybrid English"16 - may undermine CandrakIrti's own points; for insofar as CandrakIrti finds it in principle important to defer to conventional usage, it becomes important to capture the naturalness of his Sanskrit. This is not achieved when, for example, an important expression like lokavyavahiira ("ordinary usage," though the

14 See especially Tillemans 1990: vol. 1, pp.41-53. Among more recent works by Tillemans, one can also usefully consult, inter alia, that of 2003.

15 Arnold (2005), Chapters 5-7; see also Arnold 2001,2003. 16 Griffiths 1981; cf., also, Ruegg's own perceptive remarks on translation (Ruegg

1992).


term also has an eminently mercantile connotation that I think is nicely captured by "business as usual")l? is rendered, as it is by Ruegg, as "transactional-pragmatic usage."

Moreover, given the difficulty of some of the exchanges in the first . chapter of the Prasannapadii, it is to be expected that different judgments can be made about how to understand the text. Having carefully considered Ruegg's translation of this section, I have judged that in the places where our readings diverge, mine are at least defensible, and in some cases (particularly towards the end of the passage) significant. Thus, in the hope of further advancing our understanding of a surprisingly neglected (and very interesting) philosophical exchange, I propose the following translation, which could, I think, quite profitably be used in consultation with that of Ruegg - as well as with the work of Siderits, and with my own, more speculative interpretation.

The following translation is intended to stick closely to CandrakIrti's Sanskrit (though I have taken the liberty of inserting material in brackets where that is required to make the sense of the English more plain) -though it is hoped that it will also be experienced as being in English. In my annotations to the translation, I have given the Sanskrit text (from the edition of La Vallee Poussin), noting de Jong's proposed revisions as well as a few emendations of my own. Where I have found it useful to consult the Tibetan translation by sPa-tshab nyi-ma-grags (as available in the sDe-dge edition of the bsTan-'gyur), I give the Tibetan as well. In addition, I have also provided in the annotations something of a commentary, briefly explaining what I take to be the salient points particularly of more complex passages. I have also noted significant indications of the interlocutor's likely identity as Dignaga - with some interesting clues to be found, in this regard, in Yoshiyasu Yonezawa's recent edition of the *Lak!jGl;at1kii, a very brief commentary (really more like a student's personal annotations) on the Prasannapadii dating to probably the 12th centuryl8.

17 See Apte 1992: 1514: "Affair, business, work ... profession, occupation ... dealing, transaction ... commerce, trade, traffic .... " See also Rhys Davids and Stede 1995, s.v. vohara.

18 So Yonezawa (2001:27). See also Yonezawa 1999, 2004.

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In the following translation, numbers given in square orackets represent the page and line numbers of La Vallee Poussin's edition. For ease of use, the dialectical flow of the argument has been signaled by indicating the main changes of voice in bold type.

Translation

[55.11] At this point, some object: Is this certainty19 that existents are not produced2o based on a reliable warrant (pramiirJa),21 or is it not based on a reliable warrant? In this regard, if it's accepted that it's based on a reliable warrant, then you have to explain: which warrants, having what characteristics and what objects? Are [these reliable warrants] produced from themselves, or from something else, or both, or altogether without cause? On the other hand, if [your certainty] is not based on a reliable warrant, this doesn't make sense, since comprehension of a warrantable

19 Or conviction; see n.27, below. 20 CandrakIrti's interlocutor here refers to MMK 1.1 (which is the verse being com

mented on for most of chapter one), according to which "There do not exist, anywhere at all, any existents whatsoever, produced either from themselves or from something else, either from both or altogether without cause" (La Vallee Poussin 1970a: 12.13-14: na svato niipi parato na dviibhyii7J1 niipy ahetuta!:z I utpannii!:z jiitu vidyante bhiivii!:z kvacana kecana).

21 In translating pramiilJa as 'warrant' (cf., Apte 1992:1101, meaning 6), I have in mind the sense of the latter word as meaning "justification for an action or a belief; grounds" (American Heritage College Dictionary). There is a systematic ambiguity in the word pramiilJa in the Indian philosophical tradition, this word alternately referring to a reliable means of knowing (sa yeniirtha7J1 pramilJoti, tat pramiilJa7J1), and to an episode of veridical cognition such as results from the exercise thereof (prarnfyate iti pramiilJam). This ambiguity is preserved in the translation of pramiilJa as "reliable warrant": warrant can refer to the outcome of a cognitive episode, to what one has ("justification") in virtue of having formed a belief in a reliable way (so Plantinga 1993:3: "that, whatever precisely it is, which together with truth makes the difference between knowledge and mere true belief"); but it also conventionally denotes justification in the sense of the criterion or grounds of belief ("What is your warrant for thinking there was a fire?"; "I saw it," or "I saw smoke"). A good translation of pramiilJa in the latter sense might be (following Alston 1989) "doxastic practice" - but this fails to capture the other sense. The idea of 'warrant' (and of being warranted), I think, also captures (without begging any important questions) the complex relation betweenpramiilJa and 'knowledge' or 'truth,' and is in this sense to be preferred to standard translations like "valid cognition" (Dreyfus 1997: 570) or (translating this passage) "valid means of right knowledge" (Ruegg 2002:95). See, however, the next note on one problem with my translation.

MATERIALS FOR A MADHYAMlKA CRITIQUE OF FOUNDATIONALISM 419

object (prameya)22 depends on reliable warrants23 - for an uncompre-. hended object can't be comprehended without reliable warrants. Hence, if there's no understanding of an object because there is no reliable warrant, how is [yours] a justifiable certainty (samyagniscaya)? So it doesn't make sense to say, [as in MMK 1.1, that] existents are unproduced24•

Or again: It will be my [certainty] precisely that all existents exist, and that based upon the same thing as your certainty that existents are unproduced! And just as your certainty is that all things are unproduced, in exactly the same way, [56] mine will be that there is production of all things25. .

22 'The translation of prameya as "warrantable" is not unproblematic; for it is beliefs that are warranted, not (what is typically characterized in Sanskrit as prameya) objects. It is difficult, however, to find translation equivalents for this pair of words (pramiilJa and prameya) that avoid this problem while yet reflecting the fact that they are permutations of the same verbal root. 'Knowable' seems better to capture the sense of prameya as describing any possible objects of (warranted) cognition; but as indicated in n.2l, if we then translate pramiilJa as "means of knowledge," we risk begging important questions about the relations between justification and truth. It is, then, my translation of pramiilJa as "reliable warrant" that informs the rendering of prameya as "warrantable" - but the latter should, in this context, be understood as short for the more cumbersome object regarding which one could have a warranted belief

23 With this point (pramiilJiidhlnatviit prameyiidhigarnasya; Tib., gzhal bya rtogs pa ni tshad rna la rag las pa'i phyir te), CandrakIrti seems to allude to Dignaga (as noted by Ruegg 2002:95, n.155), whose PramiilJasamuccaya begins with the claim that "understanding of a warrantable object depends upon reliable warrants" (in Kanakavarman's Tibetan, as given at Hattori p.175, gaft gi phyir g~al bya rtogs pa ni tshad ma la rag las pa yin). Cf., Hattori's n.l.l0, p.76; and n.47, below, for another citation of Dignaga's point

24 55.11-16: Atra kecit paricodayanti: Anutpannii bhiivii iti kim ayaTfl pramiilJajo niscaya uta-apramiilJOjalJ? Tatra, yadi pramiilJaja i~ate, tadii-idaTfl vaktavyaTfl: kati pramiilJiini, kiTfllak~alJiini, kiTflvi~ayiilJi, kiTfl svata utpanniini, kiTfl parata ubhayato 'hetuto vii-iti? Atha-apramiilJajalJ sa na yuktalJ, pramdlJiidhinatviit prameyiidhigamasya. Anadhigato hy artho na vinii pramiilJair adhigantuTfl sakyata iti, pramiilJiibhiiviid arthiidhigamiibhiive sati, kuto 'yam samyagniscaya iti? Na yuktam etad anutpannii [de Jong] bhavii iti. Clearly, the challenge with which this section .thus begins is very much like challenges anticipated in Nagiirjuna's Vigrahavyiivartani (VV). Interestingly, though, CandrakIrti does not note the W's argument against this challenge until several pages into the present section (cf., n.47, below).

2S 55.16-56.1: Yato vii-ayOTfl niscayo bhavato 'nutpannii bhavii iti bhavi~ati tata eva mama-a pi sarvabhiiviilJ santi-iti! Yathii ca-ayaTfl te niscayo 'nutpanniilJ sarvadharmii iti, tatha-eva [p.56] mama-a pi sarvabhiivotpattir bhavi~yati. 'That is, if CandrakIrti is willing to give up on thinking his own beliefs to be demonstrably warranted, then he cannot think there are any grounds for preferring his beliefs to those of his interlocutor.

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Or [perhaps you will say] you have no certainty [to the effect that] "all existents are unproduced." ill that case, since there's no persuading another of something not ascertained for oneself, it's pointless to begin this treatise, and all existents stand unrefuted26.

We reply: If we had anything at all like certainty, it could [be said to be] based on a reliable warrant, or not based on a reliable warrant. But we don't! How so? If there were the possibility of doubt (aniscaya) in regard to this, there could be a certainty opposed to that and dependent upon it. But when we have no doubt in the first place, then how could there be certainty opposed to it?27 For [such certainty] would be independent of anything else sharing the relation, as in the case of the longness or shortness of a donkey's horn. And when, in this way, there is no certainty, [p.57] then we will imagine reliable warrants for the sake of proving what? How, then, will they [i.e., reliable warrants] have number, characteristic, or object? Whether [their] production is intrinsic, dependent, both, or causeless - none of this has to be explained by US28.

26 56.1-3: Atha te na-asti niscayo 'nutpanniil} sarvabhiivii iti, radii svayamaniscitasya parapratyiiyaniisarrzbhaviic chiistriirambhavaiyarthyam eva-iti, santy aprati~iddhiil} sarvabhiivii iti.

27 It is chiefly having in mind these fIrst sentences of CandrakIrti's response that I have translated niscaya, here and in the preceding paragraph, as "certainty." One might more appropriately render this as "conviction" or, more weakly, "opinion" - but this seems to me not as sharply to capture the contrast between nikaya and aniscaya, or (more signifIcantly) the force of CandrakIrti' s claim here that there can be no question of the latter. It is not clear what it would mean for CandrakIrti to claim that there is no possibility of "non-conviction" (aniscaya) in regard to the issue in question. If, in contrast, he is saying there is no room for (what is the opposite of certainty) doubt in the matter, it becomes possible to understand him as suggesting (what I take him to be arguing) that constitutively Madhyamika claims cannot coherently be thought to require the same kind of justifIcation here demanded by his interlocutor, insofar as the truth of MMK 1.1 is a condition of the possibility· even of expressing any doubt. Such is the line of interpretation I have more generally advanced in Arnold (2005).

28 56.4-57.3: Ucyate: Yadi kascinniscayo niima-asmiikarrz syiit, sa pramii~zajo vii syiid apramiil}ajo vii. Na tv asti. Kirrz kiiral}arrz? lha-aniscayasarrzbhave sati, syiit tatpratipak~as tadapek~o nikayal}. Yadii tv anikaya eva tiivad asmiikarrz na-asti, tadii kutas tadviruddho [de Jong] niscayal} syiit? Sarrzbandhyantaranirapek~atviit, kharavi~iil}asya hrasvadirghatiivat. Yadii ca-evarrz niscayasyii-[p.57]-bhiival}, tadii kasya prasiddhyartharrz pramiil}iini parikalpayi~iimal}? Kuto vii e~iirrz sarrzkhyii lak~al}arrz vi~ayo vii bhavi~yati? Svata(l parata ubhayato [' hetuto] vii samutpattir iti sarvam etan na vaktavyam asmiibhil}. This passage is translated by Huntington (2003:77-78), who identilles CandrakIrti's inter: locutor as Bhavaviveka (despite the proximate allusion to Dignaga; cf., n.23, above). Can:


[Objection:] If,.in this way, [you have] no certainty at all, then how is your own statement - which has the form of something ascertained, to wit "not from themselves or from something else, nor from both nor altogether without cause, do existents exist" - understood?29

We reply: This statement is ascertained by reasoning that is just familiar for ordinary people, not for the venerable (arya). Does this mean the venerable have no reasoning? Who can say whether or not they do? For ultimate truth is a matter of venerable silence. So how could there be, in regard to it, any possibility of [the sort of] conceptual elaboration that is reasoning or non-reasoning?30

[Objection:] Well, if the venerable do not expound reasoning, then how, here and now, will they awaken the world to ultimate truth?31

[Response:] The venerable surely do not expound reasoning according to ordinary usage.32 Rather, granting, for the sake of awakening others, reasoning that is familiar only in the world - in just that way they awaken the world33. For example, those in the throes of passion, com-

,t!raldrti's response in terms of niscaya represents a point conceptually similar to Nagarjuna's claim, in the Vigrahavyiivartani (v.29), to have no "thesis" (pratijiiii): "If I had any

'thesis, then the fault would be mine; but I do not have a thesis, so I have no fault at all." (Bhattacharya 1990: 14: yadi kiicana pratijiiii syiin me tata eiia me bhaved dOifa!:z I niisti ca mama pratijiiii tasmiin naiviisti me dOifa!:z.)

29 57.4-5: Yady evaip niscayo na-asti sarvata!:z, kathaip punar idaip niscitarupaip viikyam upalabhyate bhavatiiip? Na svato niipi parato na dViibhyiiip niipy ahetuto bhiivii bhavantfti.

30 57.5-8: Yady evaip niscayo na-asti sarvata!:z, kathaip punar idaip niscitarupaip vakyam upalabhyate bhavatiiip? N a svato niipi parato na dviibhyiiip niipy ahetuto bhiivii bhavantfti. Ucyate: Niscitam idaip viikyaip lokasya svaprasiddhayaivopapattyii, naiiryiilJiiip. Kiip khalv iiryiilJiim upapattir na-asti? Kena-etad uktam asti vii niisti wi-iti? Paramiirtho hy iiryas tilsnlbhiiva!:z [de Jong]. Tata!:z kutas tatra prapaiicasaipbhavo yad upa:pattir anupapattir vii syiit?

31 57.9: Yadi hy iiryii upapattiip na varlJayanti kena khalv idiinlip paramiirthaip lokaip bodhayiifYanti? .. 32 R~egg (2002:99) translates: "The Aryas do not propound any justified ground in

Virtue of the transactional-pragmatic usage of ordinary folk in the world .... " There is a sense, however, in which such a technical rendering ofthis makes CandrakIrti's own state~ent of his argument performatively incoherent; his use of ordinary language is best understood as itself exemplifying his deference to such. In this regard, we might also render lokasaipvyavahiirelJa as "according to business as usual," capturing the eminently conventional, mercantile sense of the word vyavahiira (see n.17) - but my taste for this transl,ation has met with such howls of protest that I here defer to cooler heads. . 33 There seems to be a tension here; why is the latter (i.e., the venerables' causing the

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mitted to a mistake, do not apprehend even the actual (vidyamiiniim api) impurity of the body - and having imputed an unreal aspect of beauty, [they] suffer. For the sake of [cultivating] their dispassion, a manifesta_ tion of the Tathagata or a god could describe in detail the defects of the body, which were previously concealed by the idea of beauty. [They will describe these, for example,] by saying things such as that there are hairs on the body34. And those [who had been passionate], by abandoning that idea of beauty, could attain dispassion. [p.58] So, too, in this c.ontext: by virtue of being [ones] the eye of whose mind is impaired by the cataracts of ignorance35, ordinary people - imputing to existents an essence (and in some cases, some particular qualification) whose nature is not at all being perceived by the venerable - suffer excessively36.

Now the venerable awaken them [to all this] through reasoning that is familiar to them. For example, it's [generally] granted that there is no

world to understand "having accepted reasoning that is familiar in the world") not a case of their propounding something" according to ordinary usage"? Siderits (1981: 125-126) comments: "Here we must note the extreme care which CandrakIrti takes to avoid the suggestion that the aryas seek to prove the ultimate truth. When they set out to ... instruct the world through the manipulation of the conventionally accepted epistemic practices, what they construct is not a proof but rather what would be considered by the world to be a well-established proof. The qualification is crucial, for if the Madhyamika is said simply to prove the ultimate truth, there is the implication that he is in possession of ultimate means of proof, that is, that he is in possession of a theory of pramfu;las which he knows to be unconditionally valid." Siderits's point is recommended by the contrast here signaled only by Candraldrti's emphasis: the venerable do not, as it were, themselves depend for their knowledge on "ordinary usage"; rather, they provisionally adopt "that reasoning which is familiar only in the world" (lokata eva yii prasiddhopapattis tiil)1).

,34 As La Vallee Poussin notes (57: n.5), CandrakIrti here alludes to the practice of smrtyupasthiinabhiivanii, as described, for example, in the Sik:;iisamueeaya; cf., Bendall 1970:235.

35 This would seem to be a favorite expression, for CandrakIrti uses it repeatedly. Cf., inter alia, p.261.4, where precisely the same expression is used.

36 57.10-58.3: Na khalv iiryii lokasal)1vyavahiirelJopapattil)1 varlJayanti. Kil)1 tu lokata eva yii prasiddhopapattis tiil)1 pariivabodhiirtham abhyupetya tathaiva lokaJ?1 bodhayanti. Yathaiva hi vidyamiiniim api sarfriisucitiil)1 viparyiisiinugatii riigilJo nopalabhante subhiikiiral)1 ea abhutam adhyiiropya parikli§yante. Te:;iil)1 vairiigyiirthal)1 tathiigatanirmito devo vii subhasal)1jiiayii priik praeehiiditiin kiiyadoifiin upavarlJayet. Santy asmin kaye kdii [ityii}dinii. Te ca tasyiil; subhasal)1jiiiiyii vigamiid [de long] vairiigyam iisiida-[p.58]-yeyul;. Evam ihiipy iiryail; sarvathiipy anupalabhyamiiniitmakal)1 bhiiviiniim avidyiitimiropahatamatinayanatayii viparftal)1 svabhiivam adhyiiropya kvacie ca kal)1cid viSe:;am atitariiT{! pariklisyanti prthagjaniil;.

'MATERIALS FOR A MADHYAMIKA CRITIQUE OF FOUNDATIONALISM 423

production of an [already] existent jar from the clay and so forth; in this 'way, it should be determined that there is no production, since what exists ~rior to production already exists37• Or, for example, it's accepted that a ~prout is not produced from the coals of a ftre, which are other than it; likewise, it should be ascertained that [production] is not from the seeds ~d so forth, even though they are intended [as the cause of sproutS]38.

:[Objection:] Then one could [rejoin that] "this is our experience"39.

<" That is, the causation of something from itself would entail that the thing in question ialready exists - in which case, its coming-into-being would no longer require explanation. 'This basically reproduces BUddhapalita's argument regarding the "na svato" part of the :tetralemma presented at MMK 1.1; Buddhapalita's Sanskrit is cited by Candraldrti at p.l4.1-(3. (The Tibetan translation of Buddhapalita's entire commentary on MMK 1.1 can be found in Walleser 1970: 11.8, ff. See also Saito 1984.) The argument is traditionally understood 'as directed against the Siirpkhya proponent of the doctrine of satkiiryaviida - i.e., of the :yiew that effects "pre-exist" in their causes (insofar as there is, for the Siirpkhya, properly 'Speaking no causation whatsoever, but only the "transformation" fpariQiima] of praJqti). ;~, ,,38 58.3-6: Tiin idiinfm iiryiis tatprasiddhayaivopapattyii paribodhayanti. Yathii vidyafnanasya ghatasya na mrdiidibhya utpiida ity abhyupetam, evam utpiidiit pilrvaTfl vidya-1ruinasya vidyamiinatviin, na asty utpiida ity avasfyatiiTfl. Yathii ca parabhiltebhyo jviiliin:giiriidibhyo 'nkurasyotpattir na astfty abhyupetam. evaTfl vivak#tebebhyo 'pi bfjiidibhyo na ~stfty avasfyatiiTfl. In other words, seeds are what the proponent of this account of causation intended to allow :to stand; but these cannot be allowed, either, because they are just as "different" from the "sprout as coals are. Particularly here, Candraldrti's argument seems not to have a very ;strong claim to represent "reasoning that is familiar." It can, though, be so understood, if it is appreciated that the argument here is a basically a priori analysis of concepts, and not

"lin a posteriori analysis of the phenomena putatively explained thereby. Specifically, the 'argument turns simply on the definition of "other"; the point is that the general concept iof "otherness" leaves us with no principled way to know which other things are relevantly "connected to the thing whose arising we seek to explain, and we are thus left to suppose that anything that is "other" than the latter (even, e.g., the coals of a fire) could give rise to it. Candraldrti' s argument again repeats that of BuddhapiUita, who had similarly argued only by reducing to absurdity the opponent's account of "arising from another," without :Offering his own, alternative account of causal production. Thus, Buddhapalita (Walleser J970: 11) says: "Existents do not arise from something other. Why? Because it would fol,low that anything [can] arise from anything else" (gzhan las kyang skye ba med do / ci'i phyir zhe na / thams cad las thams cad skye bar thai bar 'gyur ba'i phyir ro). Cf., Prasan:napadii 36.11-12, where CandrakIrti approvingly quotes Buddhapalita's Sanskrit (na parata utpadyante bhiiviilJ, sarvatalJ sarvasaTflbhavaprasangiit).

39 58.7: Athiipi syiid anubhava e/io 'smiikam iti. The point of the objection, it seems, is that surely we all just see that things are produced from other things. We can follow the lead of the Madhyamakiivatiira in fmding here a dis'cussion of the status of what is, for Dignaga and his foundationalist heirs, the privileged faculty of perception (with the issues raised by following this avenue being issues that Can-

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[Response:] This doesn't make sense, either, since this experience is false, [simply] because of its being experience - like the experience of two moons on the part of someone with cataracts. Therefore, by virtue of the fact that experience similarly requires proof, this objection doesn't make sense40•

Therefore, "existents are not produced" - in this way, the first chapter [of Nagarjuna's Mftlamadhyamakakiirikii] begins first of all by countering the imputation of a false nature. Now, the remainder of the treatise is undertaken for the sake of refuting some qualifications that are imputed in particular cases. Dependent origination does not have any single qualification, not even such as being the agent, the locus, or the action of motion - [this treatise is undertaken] for the sake of showing [that]41.

[Objection:] It is only ordinary usage (vyavahiira) regarding Warrants and warrantable objects that we have explained with [our] treatise42•

drakIrti will go on to elaborate in the section of the Prasannapadii that is presently unfolding). Thus, in considering the same objection, CandrakIrti's Madhyamakiivatiirabhii~a specifically introduces "perception" (pratyak~a) as what chiefly informs our "experience" (anubhava). (On the basic equivalence, for Digniiga, of anubhava and pratyak~a, see Dignaga's commentary on PramiilJasamuccaya, 1.6ab, in Hattori 1968:27.) It is, the interlocutor there argues, evident simply on the basis of perception that existents are produced from other existents; and "appeal to reasoned argument is appropriate only with respect to things that are not perceptible, and not with respect to what is perceptible. Therefore, even without any argument, it must still be true that existents are produced from other [existents]." La Vallee Poussin 1970b: 101: rigs pa nye bar 'god pa yang dngos po mngon sum rna yin pa kho na la 'os kyi mngon sum la ni rna yin te / de'i phyir 'thad pa med par yang dngos po rnams gzhan las skye ba yod pa kho na'o.

40 58.7-9: Etad apy ayuktaf!!, yasmiid anubhava e~a mr~ii, anubhavatviit. Taimirikadvicandriidyanubhavavad hi. Tatas ca anubhavasyiipi siidhyasamatviit tena pratyavasthiinaT{l na yuktam iti.

41 58.10-13: Tasmiid anutpannii bhiivii ity; evaf!! tiivad viparftasvarupiidhyiiropapratipak~elJa prathamaprakaralJiirambhalJ. ldiinff!! kva cid yalJ kascid vise~o 'dhyiiropitas tadvise~iipiikaralJiirtharrt se~aprakaralJiirambhalJ. Gantrgantavyagamaniidiko 'pi nirava.§e~o vise~o niisti pratftyasamutpiidasyeti pratipiidaniirtharrt. Ruegg translates: " ... the remaining chapters [of the MK] have been taken up [by Nagiir~ juna] in order to exclude ... some particularity ... [mistakenly] imputed in some place, and this with the purpose of conveying ... that also no particularity at all ... exists [as a hypostatic entity] for origination in dependence .... " (2002: 102; as in all of my references to Ruegg's translation, the ellipses here represent places where Ruegg has supplied the Sanskrit or Tibetan terms)

42 58.14-15: Atha syiid qa eva pramii1;zaprameyavyavahiiro laukiko 'smiibhilJ iiistreniinuvarnita iti. If ~e take "siistrelJa here in the sense of "treatise," then perhaps the reference is specifi-


[Response:] Then it should be explained what the fruit of [your] explanation of this [ordinary usage] is43 .

[Objector continues:] It [i.e., ordinary usage] has been destroyed by sophists (kutiirkikaib), through their predication of a mistaken defhrition. [p.59] We have stated its correct definition44.

[Response:] This doesn't make sense, either. For if, based on the composition of a mistaken definition by sophists, everyone were mistaken regarding what's being defined (krtarrz lak~yavaiparftyaT[llokasya syiit), [then] the point of this [proposed re-description of our epistemic practices] would be one whose effort was fruitful. But it's not so, and this effort is pointless.45

cally to Dignaga's PramiilJasamuccaya. Ruegg (2002:102) instead translates "by means of the [philosophical] science". Following that lead, we might better render this adverbially: _'~which has been explained by us philosophically." That reading particularly underscores that though he claims to offer an account of our conventions, Dignaga does so by way of a peculiarly technical re-description thereof. This is, in any case, a crucial juncture in the argument; for having thus anticipated his interlocutor's claim only to be offering a conventionally valid account, CandrakIrti will be concerned from here on to argue only that Dignaga cannot coherently claim this. What is conventionally true is just our conventions, and it is therefore self-contradictory to elaborate a project that purports to be "conventionally" valid, while yet deploying words in something other than their conventional sense. From this point on, then, CandrakIrti will argue only that Dignaga's use of the key terms svalak.yalJa and pratyak.ya cannot accommodate ordinary usage of these words.

43 58.15: TadanuvarlJasya tarhi phalal?1 viicyal?1. 44 58.15-59.1: Kutiirkikail} sa niisito viparftalak.yalJii-[p.59]-bhidhiinena. Tasya asmii

bhil} samyaglak.yalJam uktam iti cet. 45 59.1-3: Etad apy ayuktal?1. Yadi hi kutiirkikair viparftalak.yalJapralJayanal?1 [accord

ing to the Tibetan available to La Vallee Poussin, brjod pas, =Skt. pralJayaniit ... ; adopted by Vaidya (1960: 20), whose reading I follow] krtal?1 lak.yyavaiparftyal?1 lokasya syiit. Tadarthal?1 prayatnasiiphalyal?1 syiit. Na ca etad evam iti vyartha eviiyal?1 prayatna iti. It is with respect to this passage that the anonymous author of the * Lak.yalJatfkii specifi

cally identifies Dignaga as CandrakIrti's interlocutor: "He says that on this view, it makes Sense only [to speak of] the worldly convention regarding warrants and warrantable objects, not [what is] ultirnate[ly the case]. [This is what is said in the passage] beginning 'Atha ... .' ['Its correct characteristics have .been explained] by us' means by Dignaga, et al. It is the master [i.e., CandrakIrti] who says, at this point, 'the fruit of this intention should be explained,' and it is Dignaga who rejoins, '[It has been destroyed] by sophists.' 'It' [here] means convention." (LakealJatfkii 2b4; Yonezawa 2004: 142: laukika eva pramiilJaprameyavyavahiiro yukto na piiramiirthika ity asmin pak.ye iiha / athetyiidi / asmiibhir Digniigiidibhil} / tadanubandhanasya phalal?1 viicyam ityatriiryal}, kutiirkikair iti Digniigal}, sa iIi vyavahiiralJ).

426 DAN ARNOLD

Moreover, if comprehension of warrantable objects is dependent Upon reliable warrants46, [then] by what are these reliable warrants [themselves] ascertained? This fault was "pointed out in [Nagarjuna's] Vigrahavyavar_ tanl. Since you still haven't answered this, there's no illumination of the correct definition [by yoU].47

Moreover, if you say there are [only] two reliable warrants, corresponding respectively to the two [kinds of warrantable objects, i.e.,] unique particulars and abstractions48 , [then we are entitled to ask,] does. the sub~ ject (lak$ya) which has these two characteristics exist?49 Or does it not

46 CandrakIrti here again alludes to Dignaga's claim that pramiirpidfnal;! prameyad: higamal;! (with the Tibetan here matching the Tibetan translation of Dignaga: gzhal bya rtogs pa tshad ma la rag las pa yin; cf., n.23, above).

47 59.4-6: Api ca, yadi pramiilJadhfnal;! prameyadhigamas tani pramalJani kena paric: chidyanta ityadina Vigrahavyiivartanyiirrz vihito doeal;!. Tadaparihiirat samyaglakealJadyotakatvam api nasti. CandrakIrti here fmally refers to the main argument against the main objection from the Vigrahavyiivartanf - specifically, the argument at Vigrahavyavartanf 31-33: "If your establishment of all these points is based on pramiilJas, we say: how is there establishment of these pramiilJas of yours? If the establishment of pramiilJas is by other pramiilJas, there would be an infinite regress ... " (Bhattacharya 1990: 15-16: yadi pramalJatas te te~af!l

teeiirrz prasiddhir arthiinam, teeiirrz punal;! prasiddhirrz briihi katharrz te pramiilJiiniim. Anyair yadi pramiilJail;! pramalJasiddhir bhavet tadanavasthii ... ) It is interesting, though, that while CandrakIrti clearly endorses the argument, he does not elaborate on it, instead merely noting that it has not yet been met by his opponent. Here, he has other fish to fry - specifically, relating to the ordinary use of conventional terms. .

48 I render svalakealJa as "unique particular" when it is Dignaga's usage that is in play' (though CandrakIrti's point will be that the word cannot coherently be thought to mean this); I render siimiinyalakeal}a as "abstraction" (rather than more customarily as "universal")., The category of siimiil}yalakealJa would, to be sure, include such examples of universals as .~'sets" and (if such were ever explicitly discussed in the Indian context) "propositions." It is also meant, however, to include items such as sarrztiinas, mental "continua" - cases, that is, such as later exponents like Mok~1ikaragupta will characterize as vertical, as cori: tra horizontal, samanyalakealJas.

49 This could also be rendered: " ... is that which has these two characteristics a lakrra, or not?"; or, taking lakrra more literally as a gerundive, "is that which has these to be characterized, or not?" On any of these readings, though, the effect of CandrakIrti's point remains substantially the same: svalak~alJa, which etymologically refers to an act of "char, acterizing" (lak~alJa), must involve the characterizing of something. Dignaga cannot allow this to the extent that his use of the term involves a fairly radical commitment to the idea that unique particulars (which is what svalakeal}a denotes for him), if they are really to count as unique, can neither be nor have any properties; for any reference to properties is, ipso facto, the kind of discursive activity that trades in things (namely, the referents of words) that are constitutively not unique.


~exist? If it exists, then there is an additional warrantable object50; how, ~then, are there [only] two reliable warrants?51 Or perhaps [you will say] :'~e subject [that is characterized by these characteristics] does not exist. 'In that case, the characteristic, being without a locus, doesn't exist either; ;,how, [in that case,] are there [as many as] two reliable warrants? As ~[Nagarjuna] will say [in MMK 5.4]: "When a characteristic is not oper:[ating, a subject to be characterized doesn't stand to reason; and given

50 Namely, the subject of which these different laklfa7}aS are "characteristics." 51 That is, insofar as the number of pramii7}Qs, for Dignaga, tracks the number of kinds

l10f existents, the need to introduce an additional kind of existent would undermine his episjemology. Ruegg seems to understand this passage a little differently, translating as foll'Jows: "Furthermore, if [Dignaga] has stated [the existence of] a pair of pramii7}Qs in conlJomiity with the pair [comprised] of the own [i.e. particular characteristic] and the generic ~characteristic, does there exist this characterized definiendum [i.e. the twofold pramii7}Q] :10r which there is this pair of defining characteristics?" (2002:104; insertions original; [emphasis added) As reflected in his fmal insertion, Ruegg here takes the point to concern !lthe "definition" (laklfa7}Q) - hence, the existence - of the two pramii7}as (which are thus 0taken as what is laklfYa, "being defined"). But the point here does not, I think, concern ithe "definitions" of the pramii7}QS themselves; rather, the point is simply that the words hl'va- and siimiinya-laklfa7}a, insofar as they are forms of the word lakifalJa (which denotes :ail act of "characterizing"), constitutively involve some relationship - specifically, Lbetween a "characteristic" (lakifalJa), and the thing "characterized" thereby (laklfya). And a::andrakirti's point is that Dignaga cannot concede this, insofar as he understands t:JsvalakifalJa" as a unique 01: "bare" particular - that is, as neither being nor having any ~~'properties" or "characteristics" at all. ,;:r!ris point is further obscured by translating svalaklfa7}Q, on what Candrakirti (at least) 'takes to be Dignaga's use thereof, as "particular characteristic" (as Ruegg does; consider, ;as well, Dreyfus's rendering of this [1997:580, et passim] as "specifically characterized

tphenomenon"). Shoryu Katsura, in explaining a critique of Hattori's translation of ;.PramiilJasamuccaya 1.2, makes a point that cuts as well against these renderings of 'Isvalaklfa7}Q (again, on Dignaga's understanding thereof); specifically, they "may suggest ),that the object to be cognized is a possessor of the two laklfalJQS and [is to that extent] some':thing different from them .... [But] I do not think that Dignaga admitted any bearer of the ;two laklfa7}as." (Katsura 1991: 136; cf., Arnold 2003) Similarly, Candrakirti thinks Dig:}Iaga CamJot admit that svalakifalJa are (as Ruegg says) "particular characteristics" (or as I will translate what Candrakirti takes to be the conventional sense of the word, "defining

;'characteristics ") at all, since that would compromise his commitment to the view that there }are only two types of existents; for on the conventional sense of the word, svalaklfQ7}Qs would thus have to be the properties (or" characteristics ") of some additional kind of exis-

: .tent. Candrakirti is not, then, here talking about pramiilJQS as the "characterized definiendum" (laklfya); he is simply starting to make his point that Dignaga's use of the word

, svalaklfa7}Q is incoherent.

428 DAN ARNOLD

the unreasonableness of a subject to be characterized, there is no possi" bility of a characteristic, either. "52

[Objection:] [p.60] It is not that lak~a1}a means "that by which [something] is characterized." Rather, [according to the rule that] "the _ ana affIx is variously applicable, "53 taking the affix in the sense of an object (karma1}i), lak~a1}a means "what is characterized. "54

[Response:] Even so, the same problem [still obtains], because of the impossibility of something's being characterized by itself; for that instrument by means of which a thing is characterized is something different from the object [that is characterized therebyJ55.

S2 59.7-11: Kil'fl ca yadi svasiimiinyalak~alJadvayiinurodhena pramiilJadvayam uktal'fl, yasya tallak~alJadvayal'fl kil'fl tallak~am [de Jong; so, too, Vaidya] asti? Atha ntisti? Yady asti, tadii tadaparal'fl prameyam astiti, kathal'fl pramiilJadvayal'fl? Atha niisti 1akiiYal'fl, tadii lak~alJam api niriisrayal'fl niistrti kathal'fl pramiilJadvayal'fl? Vak~yati hi: "lalqalJiisQ/'flpravrttau ca na laki!Jam upapadyate, laki!Jasya anupapattau ca lalqa1Jasyiipy asal'flbhaval;," iti. Candrakirti's commentary on MMK 5.4 verse is on pp.131-2 of La Vallee Poussin's edi-' tion, but given the prominence of his discussion in chapter 1, there is surprisingly little there. There are, however" many other passages relevant to the critique of svalalqalJas in Candrakirti's Madhyamakiivatiira. Cf., e.g., 6.22-36, which ends with a point specifically contra Digniiga's view of svalalqalJas: gal te rang gi mtshan nyid brten 'gyur na I de la skur pas dngos po 'jig pa'i phyir I stong nyid dngos po 'jig pa'i rgyur 'gyur na I de ni rigs med de phyir dngos yod min (6.34; La Vallee Poussin 1970a:117: "If [an entity exists] in dependence on a svalak~alJa, then through negation of that the entity would be destroyed, and emptiness would be the cause of its destruction [i.e., if "emptiness" were taken as negating really existent svalak~alJas, then it would be a nihilistic doctrine]. This is not the case, however, because entities do not [intrinsically] exist." And 6.36 (p.123): de'i phyir rang gi mtshan nyid kyi skye ba ni bden pa gnyis char du yang yod pa ma yin no ("Therefore, from the point of view of either of the two truths, there is no production of particulars"). The latter point (i.e., that this sense of svalak~alJas does not obtain from the point of view of either of the two truths) neatly expresses Candrakirti's contention that Digniiga's account of our epistemic practices is not only not ultimately, but not even conventionally valid.

S3 Citing PiiI)ini's A~tiidhytiyr ill.3.113 ("lqtyalyuto bahulam"). See Katre 1987:303. S4 60.1-2: Atha syiin na lakiiYate 'neneti lak~alJal'fl. Kil'fl tarhi "lqtyalyu{o bahulam"

iti karmalJi lyutal'fl lqtvti lak~yate tad iti lalqalJal'fl. The same rule from PiiIftni can be invoked to explain the different senses of the word pramiilJa (cf., n.2l, above), which too is formed by afflxing the -ana sufflx to a verbal root.

55 60.2-3: Evam api tenaiva tasya [de Jong]lak~amiilJatviisal'flbhaviid - yena tal laksyate [de long] tasya karalJasya karmalJo 'rthiintaratviit- sa eva do~al;. I thus take the force of eva (tenaiva) to be "by that very same thing"; hence, I translate, "by itself. ", Candrakirti's point is the eminently grammatical one that the instrument by which some-' thing is effected (in this case, by which something is "characterized") is, by virtue of its being an instrument, something that caunot at the same time be an object. Thus, just as a


[Objection:] Well, perhaps this could be said: Because of cognition's being an instrument, and because of the inclusion of this in [our concept of] the unique particular (svalak~aJJa)56, this is not the problem [you have said it is]57.

[Response:] In this connection, that which is the unique, intrinsic nature (svariipa) of existents is [what is conventionally referred to as] their defining characteristic (svalak~aJJa)58. For example, earth's [defining characteristic] is resistance, [that] of feeling is experience, [that] of perceptual cognition is the specific representation of an object.59 Therefore, taking [svalak~a~a] in the sense of 'what is characterized,'60 and [thus] disregarding the etymology that follows the familiar sense, [our interlocutor] takes it as denoting an object (karmastidhanam)61. And by

semantically complete verbal construction requires reference to various karakas, so, too, the act of "characterizing" constitutively involves reference to the discrete components of that action.

56 Here, I again translate svalak~arza to reflect Dignaga's use of the word. 57 60.4: Atha syat: Jiianasya kararzatvat, tasya ca svalak~aJ,lantarbht'ivad, ayam ado~a

iti. 58 In this crucial passage, CandrakIrti explicitly states what he takes to be the conven

tional sense of the word svalak~aJJa - which, as made clear by the examples he gives, is to be translated as "defining characteristic" when it is his favored sense of the word that is in play.

59 Note that Candrald:rti's examples can be found in Vasubandhu's Abhidharmakosa; thus, the svalak~al}a ofvijiiana is adduced at Abhidharmakosa 1.16a (Pradhan 1975:11), and that of prthivi at Abhidharmakosa 1.12 (Ibid.: 8). My rendering of vijiiana as "perceptual cognition" reflects my agreement with the observation of Bruce Hall (1983: 84n), who notes, with the Abhidharmakosa's defInitions of the terms in mind, that vijiiana in the Abhidharmakosa roughly corresponds to the sense of pratyak~a ("perception") recommended by Dignaga and DharmakIrti, and that the Abhidharmakosa's usage of sal'[ljiia ("conception") corresponds to their sense of anumana ("inference"). Cf., also, Madhyamakt'ivatara 6.202-3 (La Vallee Poussin 1970a: 316), where Candrald:rti trots out a similarly Abhidharmikalist of "defining characteristics" (svalak~arzas) of all of the skandhas: "Form has the defIning property (svala~al}a) of color and shape (rupal}a); vedana has the nature of experience; sal'[ljiia grasps characteristics; sal'[lskt'iras fashion [things]; the defining property of perceptual cognition is a conception regarding any object" (gzugs ni gzugs rung mtshan nyid can I tshor ba myong ba'i bdag nyid can I 'du shes mtshan mar 'dzin pa ste I 'du byed mngon par 'du byed pa'o II yulla so SOT rnam rig pa I rnam shes rang gi mtshan nyid do I).

60 See n.54, above. 61 The Tibetan translation renders this as las su sgrub pa, which suggests "established

as an object." But the sense of -sadhana as "denoting" or "expressive of" (cf., Apte, p.l666, meaning #4) comes from its being a synonym for kt'iraka - the Sanskrit gram-

430 DAN ARNOLD

positing [at the same time] the instrumental nature of perceptual cOgni_ tion, it is said [in effect] that one unique particular has the quality of being an object, and another uirique particular has the quality of being an instrument. [p.61] In that case, if the svalak$al:ta62 of perceptual cognition is an instrument, then it must have a separate object (tasya vyatiriktena karmalJii bhavitavyam)63. This is the fault (in your position)64.

marians' category for designating the various components of an action. Cf., in this' regard, not only Abhyankar 1977:423 (s.v. siidhana; cited by Ruegg, p.106, n.188), but also Bhattacharya 1980 (especially pp.87-89), who cites similar uses by CandrakIrti of the term siidhana in the sense of kiiraka. See also Bhattacharya 1980-81. (There is a precisely similar usage of the term -siidhana in Dharmottara's Nyiiyabindufikii: kiiral}asiidhanena miinasabdena siirupyalakifal}al'{l pramiil}am abhidhiyate ["by virtue of the word 'miina,' which denotes an instrument, pramiil}a is defined as characterized by conformity"]; Malvania 1971: 39.) In characteristically Sanskritic fashion, then, the argument here is advanced entirely in grammatical terms.

62 Particularly in this section, it is often difficult to translate this word one way or the other, without begging precisely the question at issue (viz., what the word should mean). Cf., nn.69, 98, below.

63 Here, note the use of the gerund bhavitcrvyam to indicate something like the mode of necessity. This bhiive prayoga construction is missed by Siderits, who instead translates "But then if the consciousness svalak~ll1.la is the instrumental, it should be by means of a distinct accusative of that, just this is the defect" (p.134; my emphasis). This translation leads him to suppose there is a problem understanding the antecedent of the final pronoun ("of that"), which he then spends a couple of pages explaining. On my reading, though, the point is straightforward.

64 60.4-61.2: Ucyate: Iha bhiiviiniim anyiisiidhiiral}am iitmiyal'{l yat svarupal'{l, tat svalakifal}al'{l. Tadyathii prthivyiil} kiifinyal'[l, vedaniiyii anubhavo [de Jong], vijfziinasya viifayaprativijfzapti(1. Tena hi tallak~yata iti k[fvii, prasiddhyanugatiim [de Jong] ca vyutpattim avadhilya karmasiidhanam abhyupagacchati. Vijfziinasya ca karal}abhiival'{l pratipadyamiinena-idam uktal'{l [de Jong] bhavati, svalak~alJasyaiva karmatii, svalak~alJiintarasya karalJabhii-[p.61]-vasceti. Tatra yadi vijfziinasvalak~al}al'{l karalJal'{l, tasya vyatiriktena karmal}ii bhavitavyam iti sa eva dOifal}. This has seemed to me to be a difficult passage, though I have been persuaded by one of my readers that the problems are resolved by translating the passage as I have here. The problems start with the passage "tena hi tallakifJata iti krtvii" (60.6). (This is La Vallee Poussin's conjecture. His manuscripts read "tena hi tad vii na lakifJate"; see his note 6, p.60.) The particle hi suggests that the phrase qualifies what immediately precedes it, explaining why the defining characteristics just adduced should be reckoned as the "svalak$alJa" of the things in question; thus, we could (as I had originally wanted to) read, "for [in each of these cases,] by that [quality the thing in question] is characterized." So, too, Ruegg (2002:106): "this [particular entity] is characterized by this [its specific characteristic] (tena hi tal lak~yata)." The Tibetan translation, too, seems to take the passage this way, moving "tena tallakifJata" up to the beginning of CandrakIrti's own definition, thereby clearly including this as part of what CandrakIrti commends: ... bshad par bya ste


[Objection:] Then it could be this way: What is apprehendable (gamya) by perceptual cognition, such as the resistance and so forth that are comprised by things like earth - that just is the direct object65 of

Ire zhig 'dir ji Itar des de mtshon par byed 'di sa'i sra ba dang I tshor ba'i myongs ba dang I rnam par shes pa'i yul so sor rnam par rig pa Itar bdag nyid kyi rang gi ngo bo gzhan dang thun mong rna yin pa gang yin pa de ni rang gi mtshan nyid yin na. (Cf., La Vallee Poussin's reconstruction of the Sanskrit from this, his note 6.) Although this is a conceptually possible reading, the placement of the phrase in the Sanskrit text - together with its echo of the alternative interpretation of 'lak~alJa' proposed above (n.54) - recommends instead taking "tena" in the transitional sense of "therefore," and "tal lak~yate" as a quotation of the earlier attempt to salvage the interlocutor's favored sense of svalak~alJa. Not only does this yield a more forceful indictment of the interlocutor, but it makes better sense of the two continuative "ca" particles that follow: thus it is the same person who takes the word this way (tal lak~yate' iti krtvii); who thus disregards the familiar sense (prasiddhyanugatiirrz ca vyutpattim avadhiiya); and who also wants to allow that cognition is an instrument (vijfiiinasya ca karalJabhiivarrz pratipadyamiinena .. . ). The passage might be rendered a little clearer by emending abhyupagacchati (at 60.7) to abhyupagacchatii; this would complement pratipadyamiinena, giving two instrumental present participles to construe with "idam uktarrz bhavati." Consider, by contrast, Ruegg's translation, which rather obscures the fact that Candraklrti is here indicating that two contradictory things are said by the same person (which is why he can conclude by convicting his interlocutor of incoherence): " ... having put aside the derivation [of the term lak~alJa] that has been generally acknowledged, one takes it to have an objective realization. Apprehending the cognition to be an instrument, one states that the specific defining characteristic itself has the condition of being the object and that another specific defining characteristic has the nature of an instrument. ... Here the fault lies precisely in the fact that if the svalak~alJa of a vijfiiina is an instrument, there has to exist for it an object. .. separate [from it]" (2002: 106). Rendering the passage literally, with the emendation here suggested, we get instead: "By one who is taking [svalak~alJa] as denoting an object - taking [svalak~alJa] in the sense of 'what is characterized,' and disregarding the etymology that follows the familiar sense - and who is [also] positing the instrumental nature of perceptual cognition, it is said .... " (This is clear in the Tibetan, which subordinates the first two clauses to the third, which is then the subject of "idam uktarrz bhavati": rab tu grags pa dang rjes su 'brei pa'i bye brag tu bshad pa bar nas lias su sgrub pa khas len zhing rnam par shes pa byed pa'i ngo bor rtogs pas ni I rang gi mtshan nyid kho na las nyid yin zhing rang gi mtshan nyid gzhan ni byed pa'i ngo bo yin no zhes bya ba 'di smras par 'gyur ro.) I am indebted to an anonymous reviewer of this article for some of the foregoing suggestions. The proposed emendation of abhyupagacchati accomplishes (though perhaps more straightforwardly) the same thing as an emendation suggested to me by Sheldon Pollock (personal communication): if abhyupagacchati were read as a locative present participle, pratipadyamiinena could be emended to pratipadyamiine, giving two locative absolute constructions: "When, disregarding the usage which follows the familiar sense, one accepts ... , and when one [at the same time] accepts .... "

65 That is, in the grammatical sense that still governs the discussion. Throughout this section, the expression "direct object" will here render karma in this grammatical sense.

432 DAN ARNOLD

that [perceptual cognition], and it is not distinct from the unique particular (svalak.yalJa) [that is really being perceived]66.

[Response:] Even so,' then because the defining characteristic (svalak.yalJa) of perceptual cognition is not [itself] a direct object [of cognition], it could not be a warrantable object (prameya)67, since only a svalak.yalJa in the form of a direct object can be a warrantable object68.

And thus, since you have specified (ity etad vise.yya) that two kinds of things - unique particulars and abstractions - can be the objects of reliable warrants, you're now forced to say: one unique particular is the

66 61.3-4: Atha syiit: Yat prthivyiidigatarrz kiithinyiidikarrz vijiiiinagamyarrz, tat tasya karmiisty eva, tac ca svalak~m:liivyatiriktam iti. Here, I think, two points are being made. In the grammatical key that is here predominant, the interlocutor's point is that vijiiiina - which conventionally occurs (as at n.59, above) in the expression "the svalak~a/:za ['defming characteristic'] of vijiiiina" - is, as designating an act of cognizing, a grammatical instrument (that by means of which some agent apprehends something); and as such, it must itself have some direct object. By pointing this out, he hopes to meet Candrakirti's immediately preceding point that his position entails an infmite regress. His point is that with vijiiiina, we do have an instance of some~ thing that is both itself a svalak~a/:za in the sense of a grammatical instrument, and that yet' has a svalak~a/:za ("unique particular") as its direct object. This proposal further amounts, I think, to a second point: that svalak~alJa as "defIDing characteristic" is the same thing as svalak~alJa as "unique particular," so that, e.g., if we speak of the earth's "resistance" as its defIDing characteristic, we can do so because there is a corresponding "unique particular" that we perceive. Thus the thing commonly adduced as "earth's svalak~alJa" (i.e., hardness) in fact has an ontological correlate, in the form of Dignaga's "unique particular." We can, then, speak of "perceiving" something's "defIDing characteristic" just inso'far as there invariably corresponds to this some unique and concrete particular. Again, this is proposed as a way for Dignaga to retain his commitment to the view that svalak~a/:za means "unique particular," while yet explaining common expressions like "resistance is the"svalaksana of earth. "

67 That i;, it could not itself be the object of a pramiilJa - which would, for Dignaga, , be tantamount to saying that it does not exist. Again, the point is here made in grammatical terms: an act of pramiilJa ("warranting") must have a prameya, a direct object - and to the extent that vijiiiina is instead thought to be (grammatically) an instrument, it there-" fore could never fulfill this role.

68 61.4-5: Evarrz tarhi vijiiiinasvalak~alJasya karmatviibhiiviit, prameyatvarrz na syiit, karmarupasyaiva svalak~alJasya prameyatviit. Here, Candrakirti has effectively rejoined that the interlocutor's previous move will no ' longer allow us to accommodate the conventional usage, according to which there is a "defining characteristic" (svalak~alJa) of vijiiiina; for if, instead, we read this conventional expression as meaning "the unique particular which is vijiiiina," then this is tanta-' mount to saying that the subjective cognitive act of awareness is really the object of some other cognitive act, insofar as Dignaga's usage takes the word as karmasiidhanam ("denot' ing an object").

MATERIALS FOR A .MADHYAMIKA CRITIQUE OF FOUNDATIONALISM 433

object of a reliable warrant- the one thus pointed out as what is characterized; and one is not the object of a reliable warrant - the one by ~hich something is characterized.69 [perhaps you will rejoin that] that one, too, denotes an object (karmasadhanapo. Then that one must, [in tum,] have some other instrument11• And given this conception of the sta,tus of an instrument on the part of another [moment of] cognition72, an infinite regress ensues 73.

69 Ruegg translates: "Some thing, a svalak~al)a which is the prameya, is designated as :What is definingly characterized; and some thing [other], which is not the object of a right :cognition, is designated as defmingly characterized by that" (2002: 107). But this misses, I think, the order of predication; that is, the salient point of the sentence is that prameyatvam and aprameyatvam are here predicated of these two kinds of subjects, so that the

.interlocutor is forced to admit that one of them is aprameya. Consider, as well, Ruegg's 'lII1Ilotation of the passage (107, n.190): "In his discussion here CandrakIrti seems to con'Join lak~al)a, or svalak~al)al' '(specific) defining characteristic' of a thing (in the AbhidThaima example), or of a term, and svalak~al)a2 'particular characteristic' which (in the !Pramiil).a-school) is the cognitive object of pratya~a .... " (Cf., n.9S, below, for a similar :point by Siderits.) While Ruegg is surely right to note that this passage (like this entire sec;;tfon of the text) crucially involves some alternation in meaning, the point to be made is ''[not, I think, that Candrakirti thus conflates these; rather, CandrakIrti is offering "defin',ing characteristic" as the conventional sense of the word, and "unique particular" as the ;sense that Dignaga presupposes - and he is saying that Dignaga ends up with a contra{diction, unable both to remain true to his spartan epistemology, and to explain familiar uses ~~f the word. i;' 70 That is, that the svalak~al)a of perceptual cognition (vijfiana), too, is a (perceptible) ''bbject. The upshot of this is that if a cognition, in order to count as such, must be not only :,an instrument but also an object, then each instance of cognition must be accompanied by ~a further cognition for which it is such an object. CandrakIrti is here driving towards a con:'sideration of Dignaga's idea of svasaTflvitti - which, however, will chiefly be considered, ;:in this context, as the unique example of something that is at the same time an instrument rand an object. The point in Dignaga's introducing the idea at this juncture, in other words, (Will chiefly be to salvage the possibility that his svala~al)as might be (as CandrakIrti ;i!hinks he must say) simply self-characterizing. P~?·71 tada tasyanyena karal)ena bhavitavyaTfl. Siderits again misses the sense of the bhiive rprayoga construction, instead giving "If the means of action [the cognition] is just that [the isvalalq3I).a], then it should come to be by means of another instrumental of that [cogniilion] ... " (p.136; my emphasis) But the third case here (karal)ena) indicates not an "instru!Inent," but the subject of the verb bhavitavyam, i.e., the thing which must (despite the ;interlocutor's view to the contrary) exist "on the part of that" (tasya). Such constructions are clearly expressed in the Tibetan, which handles them without use of the gerundive: de'i '(she de la lTyed pa gzhan zhig yod par bya dgos la .... c. 72 I.e., given that it, too, would have to be the object of a further cognition if it is to ;count as an instance of cognition that yet counts as a svala~al)a (where, of course, that lis understood as karmasiidhana). !'. 73 61.5-9: Tatas ca dvividhaTfl prameyaTfl svalak~al)aTfl samanyala~al)aTfl ca. Ity etad ~vise~a vaktavyaTfl: kiTflcit svala~al)aTfl prameyaTfl yal lak~ata ity evaTfl vyapadiSyate,

434 . DAN ARNOLD

Perhaps you think there exists [the faculty of] apperception (svasam_ vitti). Based on that, [you maintain that], given that [cognition's] be~g an object obtains due to [its] apprehension by apperception, [cognition] is included among warrantable objects74• To this we respond, based on an extensive refutation of apperception in the Madhyamakavatara75 : it doesn't make sense to say a svalak~a7J.a [p.62] is characterized by another svalak~a7J.a, and that one by apperception. Moreover, this latter cognition doesn't exist at all, since - given that there's no subject to be characterized (lak~a), owing to the impossibility of [its] establishment by a separate svalak~a7J.a - there is no possibility of the operation of a characteristic without a locus76•

And thus [it says] in the Venerable Questions of RatnacueJa [Sutraj17:

Not seeing thought, he [the bodhisattva] investigates the stream of thought [as to] whence it has its arising78 . Its [arising] is thus: Thought arises when

ldl]'lcid aprameyal]'l yallak~ate 'neneti vyapadi,ryata iti. Atha tad api karmasadhanal]'l; tada tasyanyena karalJena bhavitavyal]'l. Jiianantarasya karalJabhavaparikalpantiyam anista dosas [de Jong] ca-apadyate. Ruegg, citing PramalJsasamuccaya i.12, notes (p.108, n.191): "The tenn ani~fa is here equivalent to anavasthii .... " La Vallee Poussin's mss. read anityado~a. The Tibetan (thug pa med pa) recommends La Vallee Poussin's emendation to anavasthado~a. The point, in any case, is clear.

74 That is, perhaps svasal]'lvitti could be proposed as that in virtue of which vijiiana could count simultaneously as the instrument and the object in acts of cognizing.

75 Cr., especially, Madhyamakavatara 6.72-78 (La Vallee Poussin 1970a: 166-174). 76 61.10-62.3: Atha manyase svasal]'lvittir asti. TataJ:z svasal]'lvittya grahalJat kar

mattiyal]'l satyam asty eva prameyantarbhava iti. Ucyate: vistarelJa Madhyamakavatare svasal{lvittini~edhiit, svalak~alJal]'l [p.62] svalak~alJantarelJa lak~ate tad api svasal]'lvittya iti na yujyate. Api ca, tad api nama jiianal]'l svalak~alJavyatirekelJasiddher asal]'lbhaviil lak~yabhave nirasrayalak~alJapravrttyasal{lbhavat sarvatha nastfti kutaJ:z svasal{lvittiJ:z? Ruegg translates: "Furthennore, this putative knowledge also does not exist at all: there is indeed no existence [of it] because [this jiiana] is unestablished separately from the svalak~alJa; [and] because, when there exists nothing characterized ... , a lak~alJa, lacking [such] a ground will not come into operation" (2002: 109). This suggests that there are two separate reasons given here; I take it, rather, that the locative absolute here subordinates the reason given in the ablative.

77 Tohoku 91. 78 Stcherbatsky (1927: 153, n.6) - who follows Burnouf's reading, noted by l.,a Val

lee Poussin, nA - is puzzled by asamanupasyan, and emends to cittam samanupa,ryan. But the Tibetan (yang dag par rjes su rna mthong bas) suggests that La Vallee Poussin's reading is correct Siderits (who follows Vaidya's edition) translates: "How does the arising of consciousness, not perceiving what possesses consciousness, investigate the stream


there is an intentional object (iilambana). Is it, then, [the case that] the intentional object is one thing, and the thought another? Or is that which is the intentional object precisely the [same as] the thought? IT, first of all, the intentional object is one thing and the thought another, then there will obtain [its] being two thoughts (dvicittatii). Or if the intentional object itself is the thought, then how does thought perceive thought? For thought does not perceive thought. Just as a sword-edge cannot be cut by that same sword-edge, [p.63] and a finger-tip cannot be touched by that same fmger-tip, in just the same way, a [moment of] thought cannot be seen by that same thought. For one who is thus properly disciplined79, thought has the quality of not abiding (anavasthiinatii), the quality of being neither interrupted nor eternal (ucchediisiiSvatatii), of not being the paramount self (na kittasthatii), of not being causeless, nor of being negated (viruddha) by conditions80, neither from this nor from that, neither this nor that - [the bodhisattva] thus knows that stream of thought which [has all of these qualities], that creeping vine of thought (cittalatiim), that reality (dharmatii) of thought, that unlocatedness of thought, that immovability of thought, that unseen-ness of thought, [the fact of] being the defining characteristic (svalak~a1}atiim) of thought; thus does [he] see [this] as suchness (tathatii), and [he] does not obstruct it. Thus does [he] realize this analysis of thought, thus does [he] see. This, son of noble family - the bodhisattva's consideration of thought with respect to thought - is the foundation of mindfulness.

. Thus, there is no [facu1tyof] apperception; [and] since it is non-exis~tent, what is characterized by what?81 ~ And would it be a characteristic by virtue of difference from the subject to be characterized, or by virtue of non-difference? In this regard, if, :q":

'n ·of consciousness?" (p.137, my emphasis) Thus, he correctly reads asamanupaiyan, but mis-:!akes the subject of the sentence. The problem vanishes if we consult the Sik~iisamuccaya, which quotes precisely this passage (in the Bibliotheca Buddhica edition of Bendall, p.235; ;i:ited by de Jong). That the text given by La Vallee Poussin is correct is suggested by what there precedes the present quote: "Examining thought he [i.e., the bodhisattva] does not 'see it as internal, he sees it not outside him, nor in the conformations, nor in the elements, nor in the organs of sense. Not seeing thought, he follows the course of thought, asking, lWhence does thought arise?' .... " The point, then, is that, after prior investigations, he ("the bodhisattva") has failed to find anything answering to the designation "thought," and it is this failure which impels the present search into the nature of the "stream of thought. " . . 79 tasya eva7fl yonisalJ. prayuktasya; Tib., de 'di Itar tshul bzhin rab tu sbyor ba lao

80 Ruegg (110): "contrary to condition." 81 62A-63.8: Tathii ca-uktam iiryaratnacuq.apariprcchiiyii7fl: Sa cittam asamanupaSyan,

cittadhiirii7!l parye~ate: kutas cittasya utpattir iti? Tasyaiva7fl bhavati. Alambane sati, cit'tam utpadyate. Tat kim anyad iilambanam anyac citta7fl, atha yad eviilambana7fl tad eva citta7fl? Yadi tiivad anyad iilambanam anyac cittQ7J1., tadii dvicittatii bhavi~yati. Atha yad

436 DAN ARNOLD

on one hand, it's by virtue of difference, then because of being different82

from the subject characterized, the characteristic wouldn't be a charac_ teristic, either, as though it were a non-characteristic. And because of [its] being different from the characteristic, the characterized subject wouldn't be a characterized subject, either, as though it were a non-subject. [p.64] In this way, because of being different from the subject to be characterized, the characteristic would have a subject-to-be-characterized with no need for a characteristic - and hence, because of being without need of a characteristic, it could not be a subject to be characterized! [It would, then, be] just like a sky-flower83 .

On the other hand, if subject-to-be-characterized and characteristic were not distinct [from one another], then, because of [its] not being distinct from the characteristic, the subject's being a subject (lak~yata) is for-

eW'ilambana,!! tad eva citta,!!, tat katha,!! cittam [de Jong; cf., Bendall 1970:235] cittam samanupasyati? Na ca citta'!! citta,!! samanupasyati. TadyatMpi niima tayii-ew'isidhiiraya saiviisidhiirii na [p.63] sakyate chettu'!!. Na tenaiviiligulyagre'.la tadeviiligulyagra,!! sakyate spra~{u,!!. Evam eva na tenaiva cittena tad eva citta,!! sakya,!! dra~{u,!!. Tasyaiva,!! yonisalJ prayuktasya yii cittasyiinavastMnatii-anucchediisiisvatatii na ki1{asthatii niihetuki na pratyayaviruddhii na tato niinyato na saiva niinyii, tii,!! cittadhiirii'!! cittalatii,!! cittadharmatii,!! cittiinavasthitatii,!! cittiipraciiratii,!! cittiidrsyatii'!! cittasvalak~a'.latii,!!, tatM jiiniiti tathii pa§yati yatM tathatii,!! na ca virodhayati [de Jong]. Tii,!! ca cittavivekatii,!! tatoo prajiiniiti tatM pa§yati. Iya,!! kulaputra [bodhisattvasya; per Tibetan] cilte cittiinupasyanii smrtyupastMnam iti. Tad eva'!! niist! svasa'!!vittis, tadabhiiviit ki,!! kena lak~ate? CandrakIrti's conclusion here ("what is characterized by what? ") makes clear that the discussion of svasa'!!vitti has in this context been chiefly meant to address the possibility of there being something essentially self-characterizing - of there being, that is, at least some example of a "characteristic" (lak~a'.la) that is not the characteristic of anything (which is how Dignaga must understand svalak~a'.las). The critique of svasa,!!vitti, like

.that of svalak~a'.la, thus chiefly turns (like many characteristically Sanskritic arguments) on eminently granunatical presuppositions. In both cases, the point that Dignaga wants to salvage is shown to require that there be some verbally expressible action (" characterizing," "cognizing") that is not the characterizing or cognizing of anything - which, on the kiiraka-analysis of actions, is incoherent.

82 In characteristically Buddhist (not to say Madhyamika) fashion, Candraldrti here makes an argument that depends on taking "different" to mean altogether unrelated.

83 63.9-2: Ki,!! ca, bhedena vii tal lak~a'.la,!! lak~yiit syiid, abhedena vii. Tatra yadi tiivad bhedena, tadii lak~iid bhinnatviid, alak~a'.lavallaqa'.lam api na lak~ar.za'!!. Lak~a'.liic ca bhinnatviid, alak~yaval lak$yam api na [p.64] lak$ya'!!. TatM lak~yiid bhinnatviil, lak~a'.lasya lak~a'.lanirapek~a,!!lak~a,!! syiit; tatas ca na talla~a,!!, lak~a'.lanirapeqatviit, khapu~pavat. Something "like a sky-flower" would, of course, be altogether non-existent, which therefore simply could not have any properties or characteristics.


feited, as though [the subject] were itself the characteristic84• And because of [its] not being distinct from the subject to be characterized, the characteristic would not be one whose essence was that of a characteristic, either, as though it were itself the subjecr5. As it is said [in Nagarjuna's Lokiitltastava]: "If the characteristic were other than the subject to be characterized, then the subject to be characterized would be without characteristic; [and] it is clearly admitted by you that if there is no difference [between them], then neither one exists"86. And with respect to establishment of subject and characteristic, there is no other way than as being the same or different. Thus, [Nagarjuna] will say [in MMK 2.21]: "How can there be [any] establishment of these two when their establishment is neither as being the same or different?"87

Alternatively, if it is said that there will be establishment [of lak~ya and lak~a!Ja] as being ineffable (aviicyatii), [we respond that] it is not S088. For

84 Ruegg (2002:112): " ... in the same way as the nature of the lakiaJ;Za .... " 85 Ruegg (ibid.): " ... just like the nature of a lakeya .... " 86 Lokatftastava, verse 11; see Lindtner 1987: 132. 87 64.2-9: Athiibhinne lak!fYalakialJ-e. tada lakialJ-ad avyatiriktatviil lakialJ-aSvatmavad

vihfyate lak!fYasya lakiyata. Lakiyae ea avyatiriktatval lak!fYasvatmaval lakialJ-am api na lakialJ-asvabhiival'{l. Yatha coktal'{l: "Lakiyal lakealJ-am anyae eet, syat tal lakeyam alakialJ-al'{l; tayor abhiivo 'nanyatve viepaital'{l kathital'{l tvaya" iti. Na ca vina tattvanyatvena lakeyalak$alJ-asiddhiiv anya gatir asti. Tathii ca vakeyati: "Ekfbhiivena va siddhir nanabhiivena va yayol;. na vidyate; tayol; siddhil; kathal'{l nu khalu vidyate" iti. This passage, it seems to me, represents what is not only a characteristically Madhyamika display of linguistic pyrotechnics, but one that is characteristically Sanskritic, in general. (For insightful reflections on the extent to which Sanskritic philosophy is motivated by granunatical and linguistic categories, see Ingalls 1954.) While this type of argument is likely to strike the non-Sanskritic reader as rather underwhehning, it should be remembered . that CandrakIrti' s overriding concern here is with how words are conventionally used, and that this all represents an eminently conventional sort of discourse. It seems to me that the conceptual force of this particular passage is much the same as that of his opening rejoinder (i.e., at 59.7-9; n.52, above). The characteristically Madhyarnika deployment of such an argument is similarly on display in Nagarjuna's Vigrahavyavartanf; thus, with respect to the mutually reciprocal terms pramalJ-a and prameya, Nagfujuna is there concerned to argue (as Oetke puts it) that "means of knowledge cannot be what they are, namely means of knowledge, without the existence of that for which they are means, whereas the objects of knowledge cannot be what they are, i.e. prameyas, if there are no pramalJ-as." (Oetke 2003b: 144n) Indeed, all that Madhyamikas are fmally concerned to show, in a sense, is that any proposed explanatory terms turn out to be constitutively relational - in which case, none can be thought to provide any "ultimate" explanatory purchase on the phenomena putatively explained thereby.

88 Here, CandrakIrti may have in mind Dignaga's characterization of svalakealJ-as as

438 DAN ARNOLD

ineffability, by definition (ntima), obtains [only] when there is no recognition of the mutual classification of terms; and where there is no recognition of [such mutual] classification, there is complete absence of these two, as well - for there is no possibility of specifying, according to the difference [between them] (vise~atas), "this is the characteristic, this is the subject." Therefore, there is no establishment as being ineffable, either89•

Moreover, if cognition is the instrument with respect to the· determination of an object, what is the agent? For without an agent, there is no [p.65] possibility of instruments and so forth, just as in [the case of] the action of cutting [wood] 90.

Then [perhaps] it is imagined that in this case, thought (citta) has the quality of agency. But this doesn't make sense, either, since, [on your own theory,] the function of thought is apprehension of a bare object (arthamatradarsana); apprehension of the qualifications (vise~a) of an object [is the function] of [other] derivative mental operations (caitasa) - this based on [your] acceptance [of the authoritative text which says that] "in this regard, apprehension of an object is perceptual cognition (vijiiana), while derivative mental operations concern its qualifications"91.

"indefinable" (avyapadeiya), etc~ (cf., e.g., Pramti!:zasamueeayavrtti ad 1.17). Dignaga's point in so characterizing (!) svalak~mJas seems to be simply (but in the end, radically) that "unique particulars" carmot themselves be the referents of words. Candraldrti, however, introduces this move as specifically meant to explain how there could, in fact, be some way, other than by "identity" and "non-identity" (ekfbhiivena or nanabhiivena), of establishing how the lak~alJa and lak~ya of his svalak~alJa might be related. Cf., Ruegg, 2002: 113, n.202.

p 89 64.10-13: Atha-avaeyataya [de Jong] siddhir bhavi~yatfti een, na etad evaI'{!. Avaeyata hi nama parasparavibhiigaparijiianabhiive sati bhavati. Yatra ea vibhiigaparijiianal]! na-asti, tatra "idal'{!lak~alJam, idal'{!lak:tyam" iti vise:tatal; pariechedasal'{!bhave sati dvayor apy abhiiva eva-iti. Tasmad avaeyataya-api na-asti siddhiIJ.

90 64.14-65.1: Api ea, yadi jiianal'{! karalJal'{! vi:fayasya parieehede, kal; karta? Na ea kartaram antarelJasti karalJadfnal'{! sal'{!bhaval; chidikriyayam iva. Candraldrti's point here - again, an eminently Sanskritic one - follows the standard analyses of the Sanskrit grammarians, for whom any action can be analyzed into the terms required to express it as a semantically complete verbal construction. Candraldrti thus has in mind the karaka analysis of sentences - on which, cf., e.g., MatilalI990:40-48.

91 65.1-4: Atha cittasya tatra kartrtval'{! parikalpyate; tad api na yuktal'{!, yasmad arthamatradarsanal'{! cittasya vyaparo, 'rthavise:ta[darSanaI'{!J caitasanal'{!. "Tatraarthadr~tir vijiianal'{!, tadvise:te tu caitasal;" ity abhyupagmat. Candraldrti here quotes Madhyantavibhiiga 1.8 (pandeya 1999:27). (Ruegg [p.l13] erro-

MATERIALS FOR A MADHYAMIKACRITIQUE OF FOUNDATIONALISM 439

For when one governing action (pradhiinakriyii) is to be effected, instruments and so forth92 have their instrumentality and so forth because of the acceptance of their being subordinate, by virtue of [their] respectively (yathiisvam) perfonning subordinate actions (gUlJakriyii)93. But in this case, cognition (jfiiina) and perceptual cognition (vijfiiina) do not have one principal function [in common]. Rather, the principal function of perceptual cognition is determination of a bare object (arthamiitraparicchitti), while that of cognition is detennination of its qualifications (vise~a); hence, cognition does not have any instrumentality, nor does thought have any agency. This, then, is the problem94.

[Objection:] Well, perhaps it could be that, since scripture says "all dharmas are without self," there is no existence of any agent whatsoever

neously attributes this text to Sthiramati; while Sthiramati wrote a Tfm on Vasubandhu's bhii~a on the Madhyiintavibhiiga, the root text here quoted is traditionally attributed to Maitreya.) CandrakIrti clearly alludes to Dignaga' s recurrent point that the distinguishing of separate viSe~a and vise~a ("qualification" and "thing qualified") is a constitutively conceptual operation - in which case, perception can never itself register such a distinction; cf., e.g., Pramiil;lasamuccaya 1.23. In regard to the way the categories in play here

: all line up, La Vallee Poussin (p.65, n.3) offers many useful textual citations (starting with !' the Nyiiyabindutfkii), summarizing thus: "Soient les equivalences: cittam = vijftiinam = ;;" nirvikalpakajftiinam = arthamiitragriihi; caitasiil} = jftiinam = savikalpakajftiinam = :i:,arthavise~agriihi." See also n.59, above, citing Bruce Cameron Hall's observation that the ; A.bhidharmjkas' vijftiina basically corresponds to what Dignaga calls pratyak~a, while the : A.bhidharmikas' sal'{ljftii corresponds to anumiina. CandrakIrti's text here seems to rece ommend Hall's observation, effectively attributing to his interlocutor a usage according to ;. which vijftiina=pratya~a. This is further clarified in the immediately ensuing passage. ; Regarding Candrakirti's textual citation, Ruegg (2002:113,n.203) comments: "Can

drakIrti's reference here to a major source for the Vijiiiinavada in support of his own view noteworthy; this might suggest that here his opponent was a Vijiiiinaviidin." Indeed, the

Madhyiintavibhiiga seems a perfectly natural text for Dignaga to defer to (and thus, for CandrakIrti to cite as something that Dignaga ought not to contradict). Cf., Hattori 1968: 101-102 (n.l.61). ,; 92 That is, the various mrakas required to express any action in the form of a semantically complete verbal expression.

93 Ruegg's reading of yathiisvam is unintelligible to me: " ... in virtue of assuming ',' subsidiarity through effecting a subordinate activity in accord with the possessed"

(2002:114). 94 65.4-8: Ekasyiil'{l hi pradhiinakriyiiyiiTf! siidhyiiyiil'{l yathiisval'{l gUl;lakriyiinirvrtti

dviirel;la-aflgfbhiivopagamiit [here, I decline to accept de Jong's emendation: afl~abhiivol2a~amiitl karal;liidfniil'{l karal;liiditval'{l. Na ca-iha jftiinavijftiinayor ekii pradhiinakriyii, kil'{l tarhy arthamiitraparicchittir vijftiinasya pradhiinakriyii, jftiinasya tv arthavise~apariccheda; iti nasti jftiinasya karal;lQtval'{l, niipi cittasya kartrtvaTf!. TataS ca sa eva dO:jal}.

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- hence, even without an agent, ordinary discourse, involving verbs and other [parts of speech,] does transpire95•

[Response:] This isn't"right, either, for you have incorrectly ascertained the sense of scripture. This is explained in the Madhyamaka_ vatara.96

[Objection:] [p.66] Even when there is no possibility of qualifiers (vise~alJa) that are separate from a "body" or a "head" - as [in the expressions] "the body of a statue (siliiputraka)"97 or "the head af Rahu"

95 65.9-: 10: Atha syiit, aniitmiina/J sarvadharmii ity iigamiit, kartu/J sarvathiibhaviit, kartiiram antare7Jiipi vidyata eva kriyiidivyavahiira iti. Ruegg: "Therefore, there is indeed found to exist a transactional-pragmatic usage that relates to an act, etc., even without an agent" (2002: 114).

96 65.10-11: Etad api niisti, iigamasya samyagarthiinavadhiira7Jiit. Etae eoktaTfl [de Jong] Madhyamkiivatiire. Ruegg counter-intuitively reads artha here as though it meant something like iilambana: "For no correct intentional object has been specified by the [cited] scriptural testimony" (2002: 114). Stcherbatsky (2002: 157, n.8) cites Madhyamakiivatiira 6.68, ff., as what is likely referred to, although I don't see how the passages he cites relate to the discussion at hand. Ruegg (2002:114, n.205) more helpfully cites, instead, the bhii~a on Madhya~ makiivatiira 6.76, which argues that Dignaga's notion of svasaTflvitti is incoherent given' typical Sanskritic analyses of the verbal expression of actions - though the relevance of this to the present point is not altogether clear to me. I confess, though, to being unable to venture an altemative suggestion. ,

97 The primary sense of the word Siliiputraka is "millstone" or "pestle," which is reflected in the Tibetan translation (mehi gu). If (with Ruegg [2002: 115]) we take it that way, the point of this example would differ slightly from that of the other - and indeed, would not be altogether clear. The point would perhaps be that, insofar as the word involves a semantic unit that ordinarily refers to persons (i.e., putra, such that the word's nirukti. makes it mean something like "stone boy"), one might be inclined to suppose that the body of , such is, like the body of a person, animate - hence, the force of the subsequent part where we're told that the iikiink~ii that goes with this word is buddhi, "intellect" Thus, the reason a Siliiputraka just is a body is that it is inanimate (whereas a statue would only be a "body" if it happened to be a headless statue). However, it seems to me preferable. to follow Stcherbatsky (1927:158) in reading this to mean "statue" - in which case, the: point of the example is exactly the same as that of the "Rahu's head" example (where the mythological 'Rahu' in question is a celestial being who, having been beheaded, now exists only as a head); viz., both cases involve a genitive relation between two referents when there is in fact only one thing (i.e., a statue just is a body). The example of the expression "Rahu's head" is common in Indian philosophy; cf., e.g., the usage attributed, in the SarvadarSanasaTflgraha, to the (materialist) Carviikas, who point out that expressions like "my body" ought not to be taken as evidence of a really existing subject of the gen~ itive; rather, such expressions are, like "Rahu's head," merely "figurative" (Sar~ vadarSanasaTflgraha, p.2: mama sarirdm iti vyavahiiro riiho/J sira ityiidivad aupaeiirika/J).


_ there is [nevertheless] a relation of qualifier and qualified; just as [in that case], here, too, ·there will be [a relation] even when there is no possibility of any earth apart from its svalak:jalJ-a, [so that we are, after all, in a position to make sense of the familiar expression,] "earth's svalak:jalJ-a. "98

[Response:] This isn't so, because [these cases] are not the same. For the use of words like 'body' and 'head' depends on other associated categories, such as, [in the case of 'heads,'] intellect, etc., and, [in the case of bodies,] hands, etc. That being the case99, the production of an idea based only on the words 'body' or 'head' creates a semantic expectation regarding the other associated categorieslOO, [such that one expects to know] whose body? whose head? Another [person], with a desire to preclude connection with any other qualifiers101 , removes an interlocutor's semantic expectation by suggesting the qualifications that are statues and Rahu102 - [a suggestion that] is in conformity with mundane convention (saYJ1keta). This makes sense. But in the present case, where there is no

9& 66.1-3: Athiipi syiit: Yathii Siliiputrakasya sarfral[! riihol;z sira iti, sarlrasirovyatiriktavise~GlJiisal[!bhave 'pi, vise~a1Javisqyabhiivo 'sti. Eval[! prthivyiil;z svalak~a1Jam iti, svalak~a1Javyatiriktaprthivyasal[!bhave 'pi, bhavi~yatfti. I have, once again, left these occurrences of the word svalak~a1Ja untranslated in order to reflect the fact that Dignaga is here simply reporting the attested example, while remaining neutral with respect to how we understand the word. Siderits observes that "it should

. be pointed out that here the opponent has reverted to the traditional usage of 'svalak~ru:ta', as meaning 'own defining characteristic'; this is made clear in his reference to hardness as the svalak~ru:ta of earth" (1981: 142). But I think: we should understand CandrakIrti's interlocutor as simply reporting the example that CandrakIrti has challenged him to accommodate; thus, Dignaga's task here is to show that the word can mean what he takes it to mean ("unique particular"), and yet make sense of this attested usage. Naturally, it favors CandrakIrti's point that the examples he adduces can only be translated using the expression "defining characteristic."

99 The first phrase is all a locative absolute, with the "subject" of the phrase here translated (pravrtti) actually occurring in the locative.

100 More literally, "the arising of this idea only functions along with a semantic expectation regarding the other associated categories" (buddhyupajananal;z sahaciiripadiirthiintarasiikiink~a eva vartate). On iikii1Jk~ii ("semantic expectation"), see, inter alia, Matilal (1990:50, 109-10), Abhyankar (1977:53).

101 That is, one strives to eliminate his interlocutor's "syntactic expectation" out of a desire to render the reference more precise, to "preclude connection" with some other possible referent.

102 That is, these terms, when related to them in the genitive case, qualify (respectively) "body" and "head."

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possibility of earth and so forth apart from [defining chaiacteristics] such as resistancel03 , the relation of qualifier and qualified doesn't make sense104•

103 CandrakIrti's point is that the conventional understanding of a "defIning characteristic" (svalak~al}a) is not that it qualifies some particular example of the kind. in question (as, e.g., "red earth"), but rather, that it makes something an example of that kind in the first place. Thus, adjectival "qualifIcation" (vise~al}a) is called for only when there is some syntactic "expectation" (iikii1ik~ii), such that we need to know more in order to know precisely which token of some type is being picked out. In contrast, since there cannot meaningfully be any earth which is not "earth" by definition - which is not, that is, possessed of the characteristic that makes it an instance of "earth" - we do not, when encountering some instance of "resistance," wonder what it belongs to; for when one encounters an instance of "earth," one just is encountering an instance of "resistance." This is just what it means for the latter to be a defining characteristic of the former. This point can be understood as counting against Dignaga's contention that perceptual cognition affords access to uninterpreted data; for CandrakIrti's argument here advances the point that we invariably encounter things as they are defined. That is, tokens of the type "earth" are invariably encountered under a description (viz., as "hard" or "resistant").

104 Prasannapadii 66.3-8: Naitad evam, atulyatviit. Sarfrasira/:!sabdayor hi buddhyiidipiil}yiidivatsahabhiivipadiirthiintarasiipek~atiipravrttau, sarirasira/:!sabdamiitriilambano buddhyupajanana/:! sahaciiripadiirthiintarasiikii1ik~a eva vartate. Kasya sariraf!l, kasya sira iti? Itaro 'pi vise~al}iintarasaf!lbandhaniriicikfr~ayii siliiputrakariihuvise~aI}adhvaninii laukikasaf!lketiinuvidyiiyinii pratipattu/:! kii1ik~iim upahantiti yuktaf!l. Iha tu kiifhinyiidivyatiriktaprthivyiidyasaf!lbhave sati na yukto vise$al}avise:tYabhiiva/:!. This is the passage discussed by Thurman and Eckel, both of whom follow Tsong-kba-pa in taking CandrakIrti's target here to be Bhavaviveka; cf., n.ll, above. We can understand why Tsong-kba-pa sees here an engagement with Bhavaviveka if we appreciate that on Tsong-kba-pa's view, the distinction between the "Svatantrika" Madhyamaka of Bhavaviveka and CandrakIrti's "Prasangika" Madhyamaka centrally involves the concept of svalak~al}a. SpecifIcally, Tsong-kba-pa thinks that Bhavaviveka must accept the existents posited by an opponent as "being established by virtue of svalak~al}a" (rang gi mtshan nyid kyis grub pa = svalak~al}ena siddha). But Tsong-kba-pa's understanding of this issue involves a sense of svala~al}a that is, I think, not present in CandrakIrti. Thus, we can note that Thurman (translating Tsong-kba-pa) is right to see the present discussion as turning on different understandings of the word svalak~al}a: "... the intrinsic identity (svalak~al}a) involved in (this sort of) intrinsically identifIable status is altogether quite different from the 'ultimate particular' (svalak~al}a) explained precisely as 'functional capacity' in the logicians' treatises, and from the 'defining characteristic' (svalak~al}a) explained as that which characterizes (something as) different from everything else, such as heat in the case of fire, in the Abhidharma Scripture, etc." (Thurman 1991: 292) But it is really only the latter two senses of svalak~al}a that are in play in our text from the Prasannapadii, with Tsong-kba-pa himself having introduced (in the fIrst occurrence reflected in Thurman's translation) an additional sense. On this point, cf., Ruegg 2004:338-9.


[Objection:] Because ofthe acceptance by non-Buddhists of distinct subjects (lak~ya), in accordance with that, [our] definition of characteristic is without fault105•

[Response:] [p.67]: This isn't so; for it is not suitable to accept, with regard to your own occasion (svasamaye)106, the categories imagined by non-Buddhists, which are devoid of arguments (yuktividhura); for you would have to admit, as well, [their] additional [list of what count as] reliable warrants, and so forth107•

Moreover, because of the real existence lOS of the qualifier, familiar without analysis, which is a statue109 - [conventionally described as] an appropriator (upiidiitr) whose appropriated basis (upiidiina) is a body, [a relation] that is included in ordinary discourse - and because of the real existence of the [qualifier, familiar without analysis]1l0, which is Rahu, [conventionally described as an] appropriator whose appropriated basis is a head - [because of the real existence of these,] just as [in the case of] derivatively [existent entities] like the person, this example doesn't make senselll.

105 66.9: TIrthikair vyatiriktalak~abhyupagamt'it, tadanurodhena vise:;al}abhidhiinam adustam iti cet.

106 Ruegg (2002:116): "into one's own doctrine," reading svamata per the Tibetan rang gi gzhung lugs.

107 67.1-2: Na etad eval'(l; na hi nrthikaparikalpita yuktividhurai) padarthiii} svasamaye 'bhyupagantul'(l nyayyai}, pramaljantarader apy abhyupagamaprasafzgat. Of course, this is an unwanted consequence only for CandrakIrti's interlocutor, since Candra1drti himself will, in fact, end by endorsing (as conventionally valid, at least) the Naiyayika list of pramal}as; cf., 75.6-8 (n.182) below.

108 Ruegg (2002:116): " ... given the [designationall existence .... " Ruegg's insertion is understandable, given the unexpected nature of this claim from a Buddhist; but the Sanskrit (sadbhiivat) is clearly stronger. CandrakIrti qualifies this point, as expected, presently.

109 Again, the statue is here a "qualifier" because, in the genitive case, it qualifies the word 'body,' removing our semantic expectation to know whose body is being referred to.

110 I take the expression "vise:;al}asya-avicaraprasiddhasya" to govern both examples. 111 67.3-5: Api ca pudgaladiprajiiaptivat, sasarfropadanasya silaputrakasyopadatur

laukikavyavahiirafzgabhUtasya vise:;al}asya-avicaraprasiddhasya sadbhiivt'it, sira-upada-nasya ca rahor upadatui} sadbhiivad, ayuktam etan nidarianal'(l. Note that the Tibetan makes the last sentence more clear, fIrst translating all of the genitives, and then concluding: gzhan yang Ius kyi rten can khyad par byed pa 'jig rten pa'i tha snyad kyi yan lag tu gyur pa ma brtags na grub pa rten pa po mchi gu dang I mgo'i rten can brten pa po sgra gcan ni gang zag la sogs par brtags pa Itar yod pa'i phyir dpe 'di rigs pa ma yin no. This makes clear that, among other things, sadbhava is supposed to construe with pudgaladiprajiiapti, too. I have developed my interpretation of the issues relating to this passage at length in Arnold (2005, Chapter 6).

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[Objection:] In fact, the example is established, since, because of the non-establishment of any other object apart from the body and the head, there is apprehension only of these [a body and a head]112.

[Response:] This isn't so, because such critical analysis doesn't operate in ordinary discourse, and because the existence of ordinary categories is not based on such critical analysis. Just as a self, critically considered, is impossible as [something] distinct from form and so forth 113 , but nonetheless, relative to the aggregates (skandhan upadaya)1:4, conventionally has existencel15 - so, too, in the case of Rahu and the statue. Hence, there is no establishment of the example1l6. In the same way, even if, on the part of things like earth, there is no subject [when] being considered apart from [defining characteristics] like resistance, and [even if the] characteristic, when separate from the subject, is without a locus-

112 67.6-7: Sarfrasirovyatiriktasya-arthantarasya-asiddhes, tanmtitrasya-upalambhat, siddham eva nidarsanam iti cet. That is, the interlocutor here suggests that the various properties (or "qualifiers") of any unique particular are not among the things perceived, and hence cannot be thought real - in which case, he may after all salvage his understanding of svalak-ralJa as the "unique particulars" that alone are perceived (and therefore still say that an expression like "earth's svalak~alJa" is to be understood as having only one 'real' referent).

113 That is, apart from such analytic categories as the skandhas. 114 This phrase, I have argued in Chapter 6 of Arnold (2005), is central to understand

ing Nagarjuna's constitutively Madhyamika category of uptidtiya prajfiapti. 115 Ruegg (2002: 117): " .. .it exists in supported-dependence .... " It might be thought

counter-intuitive that the self's existence (qualified as "skandhan upadtiya") is allowed as "conventional"; for if the whole Buddhist critique of a "self" is to have any purchase, it would seem that the "convention" in the matter would really be that the self exists atmana or svabhavena (that is, that it exists "in itself" or "essentially"). Perhaps it was this thought .that led Siderits to translate this passage thus: "but by worldly convention there is the reality of that, not depending on the skandhas ... " (1981: 144; my emphasis) - as though, presumably (but impossibly), skandhtin upadaya were to be construed as a compound ("skandha-anupadaya"). But CandrakIrti's point here is not that the self's existing "relative to the aggregates" is the content of the convention; rather, his point is just that, given the aggregates as a basis of imputation, there can arise the convention that the self exists.

116 That is, the interlocutor had invoked these examples (a statue's body, Rahu's head) as meant to show that there are cases where we speak as though there were two things, even though we all know there is only one real referent; and CandrakIrti has responded that the salient point about examples like "Rahu's head" is not that there are two terms but only one "real" referent, but simply that there are two terms only insofar as convention requires it. The fact that these examples are in this respect like "selves" (or pudgaliidiprajfiapti) should, CandrakIrti thinks, have most Buddhists assent that such expressions therefore ought not to be thought ultimately to involve any "real" referents.


nevertheless, this is the conventionl17. The teacher [Nagarjuna]ll8 settled the matter by establishment [of all these categories] as simply being mutually interdependent (parasparapek~amatrataya)1l9.

And this is necessarily to be accepted in this way; for otherwise, the conventional [p.68] would not be [characterized by its being] free from reasoning - this would be reality, not the conventionaP20. And it is not [the case that] there is the impossibility only of things like statues when they are investigated by reasoningl21. Rather, according to the argument that is going to be set forth, there is no possibility of form and feelings and so forth!22, either; hence, their existence, too, like that of the statue, would have to be accepted as conventional. And this is not how [you accept them]; hence, [your position is] false. 123 This presentation of rel-

117 That is, the reference of words is explicable with reference only to what convention requires, and cannot itself be explained by anything "more real" than such conventions - which, on CandrakIrti's reading, is precisely what Buddhists like Dignaga are after.

118 Ruegg (118): "Teachers have propounded .... " But it seems clear that CandrakIrti is here (in eminently conventional fashion) using the honorific plural to refer to Nagfujuna.

119 67.7-12: Na etad eva1[l. Laukike vyavahiira ittha1[lviciiriipravrtter aviciiratas ca laukikapadiirthiiniim astitviit. Yathaiva hi rilpiidivyatirekel}a viciiryamiil}a iilmii na sa1[lbhavati, api ca lokasa1[lvrtyii skandhiin upiidiiya-asya-astitva1[l, eva1[l riihuSiliiputrakayor apfti niisti nidarianasiddhil;t. Eva1[l prthivyiimnii1[l yady api kiithinyiidivyatiriktaT(l viciiryamiil}aT(l lak~yaT(l niisti, lak~yavyatirekel}a ca lak~al}a1[l niriisraya1[l, tathiipi saT(lvrtir eseti. paraspariipeksiimiitratayii [de J ong] siddhyii siddhi1[l vyavasthiipayii1[lbabhilvur iiciiryiil;t.

120 Ruegg (2002:118): " ... otherwise, sa1[lvrti would not be deprived of a justified ground; and it would then be reality itself, and not Sal?lVrti .... " CandrakIrti's point seems simply to be that critical analysis is, ipso facto, constitutive not of the conventional but of (a search for) ultimate truth; thus, if it were thought that conventionally admitted existents could withstand this kind of "ultimate" analysis, then they could not be described as conventionally admitted, and would instead have to be said to exist "ultimately." Of course, CandrakIrti's characteristically Madhyamika point is that there is nothing that can thus withstand analysis.

121 Ruegg: "Nor is there [simple] non-existence of a Siliiputraka and the like that are in fact being analytically investigated as to [their having a] justified ground" (2002: 118). This misconstrues the eva ("in fact") as though it qualified vidyamiina (rather than, as I take it, Siliiputraka). CandrakIrti clearly means to emphasize that once we open up a critical analysis, it is not only conventionally admitted existents that are undermined, but the putatively "ultimately existent" (paramiirthasat) analytic categories of the Abhidharma tradition, as well.

122 That is, the skandhas (of which these are the first two), which, are among the subjects to be treated in the remainder of the MMK.

123 67.12-68.4: AvasyaT(l caitad evam abhyupeyaT(l, anyathii hi saT(lvrtir upa- [p.68]

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ative indication (upiidiiya prajnapti) is also extensively taught in the Madhyamakiivatiira, so that should be consulted, tool24.

pattya na viyujyeta, tada-iyam [de Jong] tatNam eva syan, na saf!!Vrti/:t. Na ca upapattyii viciiryamii,!iiniif!! siliiputrakiidfnam eva-asaf!!bhaval}, kif!! tarhi vak~yamii,!ayii yuktyii rupavedaniidfniim api niisti saf!!bhava iti; tesiim api samvrtyii siliiputraka iva-astitvam astheyam syiit. The last underlined portion here reflects a possible textual problem. I have made what seems to me the best sense of this passage by refusing an emendation prqposed by La Vallee Poussin, who follows some versions of the Tibetan (de dag kyang mchi gu la sogs pa bzhin du kun rdzob tu yod pa ma yin pa nyid du khas blangs par 'gyur na) in suggesting the reading: te~iim api saf!!vrtyii silaputrakadivan nastitvam astheyaf!! syat ... (Vaidya [1960:23] adopts La Vallee Poussin's emendation. De Jong [1978] does not comment.) This gives the opposite of my sentence: "They, too, like statues and so forth, would have to be accepted as not existing conventionally." This is a conceptually possible reading, according to which CandrakIrti' s point would have to be that even the conventional existence of such things would have to be disallowed if it were thought (counterfactually) that the conventional could be characterized by critical examination. It would, then, be the latter that CandrakIrti here means to deny; for what CamJot be doubted, in any case, is that the skandhas fail to survive critical examination. The reading I prefer, though, seems more straightforwardly to follow what precedes it, as CandrakIrti's point is instead that the merely "conventional" existence of the skandhas is precisely what we have to accept. I take this as stated counterfactually, then, insofar ash is a conclusion that CandrakIrti thinks his interlocutor wishes to avoid (though of course Dignaga's generally Abhidharmika idea that there is an enumerable set of "ultimately existent" entities involves only svalak~a,!as, not the skandhas). (For a conceptually similar passage, see n.141, below.) I would venture that it is the optative here that gives pause; for this makes the sentence counterfactual, but it is not immediately clear (given the characteristically laconic na caitad evam ity asad etat that follows) what is counterfactual about it. My reading is warranted, though, by all of the manuscripts available to La Vallee Poussin (cf., his n.3, p.68). Ruegg (2002: 118, with n.217) reads the Sanskrit as I do, noting some divergence between different editions of the Tibetan canon, with the sDe-dge edition not warranting La Vallee Poussin's emendation. Ruegg translates, however, very differently (although plausibly): "Hence, as in the case of the Silaputraka, etc., on the surface-level their existence is to be accepted. But since it is not [really] so, [in ultimate reality] it is non-existent." (Ruegg 2002:118; my emphasis)

124 This sentence is not in the available Sanskrit manuscripts, but is preserved in the Tibetan (and quoted by Tsong-kha-pa as occurring in Candraldrti's text; cf., Thurman 1991: 295): brten nas brtags par rnam par bzhag pa 'di yang dbu rna La 'jug ba las rgyas par bstan pas de nyid las yongs su btsal bar bya'o. CandrakIrti refers us to the Madhyamakavatara throughout the Prasannapada, so that the reference given here in the Tibetan is not at all out of place - though it is not immediately clear how much of the foregoing discussion is to be included as having been concerned with a "presentation of upadiiya prajnapti." Presumably, though, CandrakIrti refers back to where he fIrst exemplifies what he takes as the conventional usage of svalak~a,!a (p.60.5), and it is quite possible that he means to characterize the entire discussion of svalak~a,!as as concerning upadiiya prajnapti. Ruegg (2002: 119, n.218) cites Madhyarnakavatara 6.120, ff., for other discussions of upadaya prajnapti. In a footnote to Tsong-kha-pa's reiteration of CandrakIrti's con-


[Objection:] What's the use of this harr-splitting? For we do not say that all discourse involving warrants and warrantable objects is true; rather, what is familiar in the world is [all that is] established by this argument125.

We respond: We, too, say, What's the use of this harr-splitting, which delves into ordinary discourse? Let it be! Until there is understanding of reality, the conventional- its existence (sattiikii) come into being (iitmabhiiva) as projected by nothing but error - is, for those who desire liberation, the cause of the accumulation of the roots of merit that convey [one] to liberation126. [p.69] But having introduced reasoning at some point, you incoherently (anyiiyato) destroy it127, because of being one whose intellect is ignorant of the distinction between conventional and ultimate truth. 1 am the one who, based on skill in settling conventional truth, situate myself in the ordinary perspective. Like a respected elder (lokavrddha), I overturn one argument dedicated to the refutation of one part of the conventional by another argument - and in so doing, I refute only you, who are deviating from the conduct of the world. But [I do] not [refute] the conventional128 •

. eluding sentence, Thurman (1991: 295, n.l9) refers us instead to Madhyamakiivatiira 6.32, ff. I take 6.158-165 as the section to which CandrakIrti here alludes - though of course it is difficult to be.certain. I have developed my analysis of the expression "upiidiiya prajiiapti" in Arnold (2005), Chapter 6.

125 68.5-6: Atha syiit: Kim anayii suk~mek#yii? Naiva hi vaya7[l sarvapramiilJaprameyavyavahiira7[l satyam ity iica4mahe, ld7[l tu lokaprasiddhir e~iimunii nyiIyena vyavasthiipyata iti.

126 Ruegg: "What, indeed, is the use of this subtle [investigation] that introduces into [sic] the transactional-pragmatic usage of ordinary folk in the world? To begin with, let there be this sa7[lvrti wherein the existence of an entity is acquired through mere misapprehension, [but which may none the less be] the motivating cause ... so long as there is [yetl no knowledge ofreality." (2002:119-20)

127 Thus I take etii7[l to pick up upapatti ("reasoning"), not (from the preceding sentence) Sa/l1vrti. If, as it would be possible to do, we read etii7[l as thus referring back to sCl7[lvrti, CandrakIrti's point would be the similar one that his interlocutor undermines the conventional, simply by introducing a putatively probative argument - with the conventional, CandrakIrti has already said, being constitutively lacking in critical analysis. On my reading, by contrast, the point is that the problem is with Dignaga's replacing the conventional with something else that is not itself "conventional" (i.e., with a peculiarly techmcal account thereof, a putatively probative "upapatti"), while at the same time claiming that his own account is conventional. On this reading, CandrakIrti is basically charging Dignaga with self-referential incoherence.

128 68.7-69.5: Ucyate: vayam apy eva7[l brumaf:t: Kim anayii suk.rmek.riyii laukikavyavahiire 'vatiirikayii? Ti.rthatu tiivad e~ii viparyiisamiitriisiiditiitmabhiivasattiikii sa7[lvrtir

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Therefore, if it is ordinary discourse, then there must also be a subject that possesses a characteristic (lakf!alJavallak~yer.ujpi bhavitavymrz) 129.

And therefore just this isfue problem [with your conception]. But in tenus of ultimate truth, since there [ultimately] are no subjects (lak~iibhaviit), this pair of characteristics [i.e., sva- and siimiinyalak~glJa] does not exist, either; whence, then, [your] two reliable warrants?130

Now perhaps it is not accepted [by you] that the derivation (vyutpatti) of words thus depends on a connection between action and agent13I. This is extremely problematic. You engage in discourse (vyavaharati)132 using those very words whose use (pravrtta) depends ona connection between action and agent - and yet you do not acknowledge the sense of words as involving things like actions and instruments. You fool! Your sense is bound to a mere fancy 133 •

mumuk~illJiil'{l mok~iiviihakakusala-[p.69]-millopacayahetur, yiivan na tattviidhigama iti. Bhaviil'{ls tv etiil"[! sal"[!Vrtiparamiirthasatyavibhiigadurvidagdhabuddhitayii kva cid upapattim avatiirya-anyiiyato niiSyati. So 'ham sal'{lvrtisatyavyavasthiivaicak~alJyiillaukika eva pak~e sthitvii, sal"[!vrtyekaddaniriikaralJopak§iptopapattyantariintaram [emend to upapattyantaram] upapattyantarelJa vinivartayan lokam vrddha [emend to lokavrddha] iva lokiiciiriit paribhraSymiinal'{l bhavantam eva nivartayiimi, na tu sal'{lVrtil'{l.

129 I thus read lak~alJavallak~yelJa as a compound, and the -vat suffIx in the sense of possession - and not (as the Tibetan translation constrnes it) as the indeclinable lak~alJavat, which would read" as in the case of a characteristic, there must also be a subject." (S(j Ruegg: "Therefore, if [this be] worldly transactional-pragmatic usage ... , then, necessar~ ily, there must exist a lak~ya in the same way as a lak~m:la ... " [2002: 120]. The Tibetan reads: de'i phyir gal te 'jig rten pa'i tha snyad du yin na ni, de'i tshe mtshan nyid bzhin du mtshan gzhir yang .... ) Given that CandrakIrti has wanted all along to show that Dignaga's conception of svalak:falJa founders on the necessity of admitting that there must be some lak~a in which it is instantiated, the reading I have chosen seems to make more sense ..

. Thanks to Rick Nance for pointing this out to me. 130 69.5-7: Tasmiidyadi laukiko vyavahiiras, tadii-avaSyal"[!lak~alJavallak~elJiipi bhav:

itavyal"[!; tatas ca sa eva do~alJ. Atha paramiirthas, tadii lak~iibhiiviil lak~alJadvayam api niistfti, kutalJ pramiilJadvayal'{l? ."

131 That is, perhaps Dignaga will deny that the kiiraka analysis of verbal expressions' (conventionally normative in the Sanskritic world) should hold sway. CandrakIrti takes this concession as an occasion to restate the extent to which his whole critique of Dignaga's account of svalak~alJas (according to which, svalak~alJas - constitutively neither having any properties, nor being the properties of anything - are simply "self-characterizing") has been informed chiefly by the characteristically Sanskritic analyses of language that were, conventionally normative for his context.

132 Ruegg (121): "Your honour engages in transactional-pragmatic activity .... " Her~"' . in particular, I might have liked, "You conduct your business ... "; see nn.17, 32, abovt",

133 69.8-10: Atha sabdiiniim eva'll kriyiikiirakasal'{lbandhapilrvikii vyutpattir niingfkri(


And when, in this way, it has not been shown that there are [only] two [kinds of] warrantable objects, then, by virtue of their not having as objects either unique particulars or abstractions, [it follows that] tradition and so forth [can also] have the status of additional reliable warrants134.

Moreover, because it doesn't include instances of ordinary discourse like "a jar is perceptible,"135 and because of the acceptance of the discourse of ordinary people (aniirya), [your] definition (lakWlJa) has insufficient extension136 - it doesn't make sense.!3?

[Objection:] [p.70] Things like color, which are what is appropriated (upiidiina) as jars, are [said to be] 'perceptible' [simply] because of [their]

ate. Tad idam atika,rarrz. Tair eva kriyiikiirakasarrzbandhapravrttail:z sabdair bhaviin vyava-.harati, sabdiirtharrz kriyiikaralJiidikarrz ca na-icchatfti. Aha bata-icchiimiitrapratibaddhapravrttitii [de Jong] bhavatal:z. Here again, then, a charge of self-referential incoherence: Candrald:rti thus urges that his interlocutor's own use of language has as a condition of its possibility the very features that his view of svaiak,alJas commits him to denying.

134 69.11-12: Yadii ca-evarrz prameyadvayam avyavasthitarrz, tadii [svajsiimiinyala~alJ[ iijvi,ayatvena-iigamiidfniirrz pramiilJiintaratvarrz. Of course, this is only an unwanted consequence for Dignaga; CandrakIrti here approaches his concluding endorsement of the Naiyayika pramiilJas as representing the best account of our conventional epistemic practices; cf., 75.6-8 (n.182), below.

, 135 Here, CandrakIrti turns to a consideration specifically of Dignaga's account of "perception" (pratyak,a). He begins by stating the main point he will be concerned to make: that on the conventional use of the word pratyak,a, it is the adjectival sense ("perceptible") that is primary. One might also (with Siderits 1981: 148, ff.) take the salient point of the example "a jar is perceptible" to be that it is wholes like jars that are perceptible, 'and not the foundationalist's fleeting sense data. (See also Arnold 2001a:259, where it is taken the same way.) This is, to be sure, as CandrakIrti would wish to argue, and it is Clearly one upshot of this conventional usage; but Candrald:rti's way of making the point iS,in characteristically Sanskritic fashion, to emphasize the grammatical point. In fact, pratyakra must be an adjective in the example adduced by Candrald:rti; the noun form of the word is neuter, and in Candrald:rti's example it has taken the masculine gender of the word (ghatal:z) that it modifies. (The rule that explains this is cited by Dharmottara, who also criticizes Diguaga's etymology; see n.148, below, for the reference.) That Candrald:rti has a good claim to expressing the primary sense of the word is reflected in Apte (1992: 1085), who gives several adjectival senses first.

136 Ruegg: " ... for the [postulated] lak,alJa, there exists no (logical-epistemological) pervasion ... " (2002: 122) But Candrald:rti would not, I think, have in mind this peculiarly technical, dialectical use of the word, which has a quite common sense in grammatical lit,erature; cf., Abhyankar 1977:48 (s.v., avyiipti).

137 69.13-14: Kif!l ca "gharal:z pratyak,a" ity evam iidikasya laukikavyavahiirasyaasarrzgrahiid, aniiryavyavahiiriibhyupagamiic ca, avyiipitii lak,alJasya-iti na yuktam etat.

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determinability by the reliable warrant which is perception 138. Hence, just as it is taught that "the birth of buddhas is bliss" - [an expression that is understood as] involving figurative reference to the effect with respect to [what is really] the cause - in the same way, a jar, even though occa~ sioned by perceptibles like its color, is designated as 'perceptible,' making a figurative reference to the cause with respect to [what is really] the effectl39 •

[Response:] [Appeal to] figurative usage does not make sense with respect to a cognitive object of this kind. For in the world, birth is appre~ hended as separate from happiness. Indeed, because of its being the cause of many hundreds of evils - which is because of its having as its nature the characteristic of [being] compounded - it [i.e., birth] is precisely non-bliss. With respect to the sort of object where what is being taught - "it [i.e., birth] is happiness" - is incoherent (asaY(lbaddha eva), figurative usage makes sense. But in the present case - "a jar is perceptible" - there is nothing at all called a jar which is imperceptible, [noth-

138 That is, Dignaga - once again challenged to show how his peculiarly technical usage of words can be reconciled with examples of their ordinary use - here suggests that the adjectival sense of the word pratyakifa is derivative, and that the word primarily functions to pick out an epistemic faculty.

139 70.1-3: Atha syiit: ghatopiidiinaniliidayaf:z pratya~iif:z, pratyakifapramiilJaparicchedy: atviit (Tib., mngon sum gyi tshad mas yongs su gcad par bya ba yin pa 'i phyir mngon sum yin te). Tatas ca yathaiva kiiralJe kiiryopaciirarrz krtvii, "buddhiiniirrz sukha utpiida" iti vyapadifyate, evarrz pratyakifaniliidinimittako 'pi gharaf:z kiirye kiiralJopaciirarrz krtvii pratya~(J iti vyapadisyate. The same example (for which, cf., Dhammapada 14.16: sukho buddhiinarrz uppiido sukhii saddhammadesanii / sukhii saJighassa siimaggf samaggiinarrz tapo sukho /I) is cited and dis~ cussed in Vasubandhu's AbhidharmakosabhiiifYam (ad Abhidharmakosa 1.10; Pradhan 1975 :7), where it is also an example of kiiralJe kiiryopaciira. Cf., also, Nyiiyabindu 3.2 (and Dhannottara's commentary thereon; Malvania 1971: 120-21), where the case of pariir~ thiinumiina is similarly considered a figurative usage of the word anumiina. Dignaga's appeal to upaciira in his account of pratyakifa is much as CandrakIrti here represents it: "The word pratyakifa is used with respect to three things: the reliable warrant, the aware" ness [that results from the exercise thereof], and the object [of this awareness]. With respect to these, [the usage designating] the reliable warrant is primary, and the others are secondary (nye bar btags =Skt. aupaciirika). In this regard an object is [figuratively] characterized as 'pratyakifa' since it is cognized by [the reliable warrant called] pratyakifa." (Pramiil}asamuccayavrtti ad 1.41c-d; Tibetan from Hattori, pp.233: mngon sum gyi sgra ni tshad ma dang shes pa dang yul gsum la 'jug go. de la tshad ma La ni gtso bo yin La, gzhan dag la ni nye bar btags pa yin te: de la yul la ni mngon sum gyi gzhal bya yin pa'i phyir mngon sum du btags pa yin no.)


ing at all] separately apprehended (Prthag upalabdha) to which perceptibility could figuratively belong 140.

If it is said that perceptibility is figurative because of the non-existence of a jar apart from [perceptible qualities] like color, then [appeal to] figUrative usage makes even less sense, since there is no basis which is being figuratively described; for the sharpness of a donkey's horn is not [even] figuratively asserted (upacaryate). Moreover, if it is imagined that a jar, which is part of ordinary discourse, has [only] figurative perceptibility since (iti lqtvii) it doesn't exist apart from things like its color, then since things like color don't exist apart from things like earth, either, the [merely] figurative perceptibility of that color and so forth would also have to be posited. As it is said [in Aryadeva's CatuJ:tSataka]: [p.71] "Just as a pot does not exist as separate from things like its form, so, too, form does not exist as separate from [basic elements] like air, etc"141.

140 70.3-7: Na evarrzvidhe vi~aya upacaro yuktaf;; utpado hi loke sukhavyatirekel}opalabdha(l. Sa ca sarrzslq-talak/!al}asvabhavatvad anekadu~karasatahetutvad, asukha eva. Sa sukha iti vyapadiSyamano 'sarrzbaddha evety; evarrzvidhe visaye [de Jong] yukta upacaraf;. Gha{af; pratyak/!a ity atra tu, na hi ghato nama kascid yo 'pratyak$af; prthagupalabdho yasya-upacarat pratyak~atvarrz syat. The point is that recourse to upacara requires two terms: the thing figuratively described, and the thing appealed to so to describe it. One is entitled to (indeed, one must) seek a secondary or figurative meaning, then, only when the two terms in play are such that, given their primary meanings, their association produces an incoherent (or otherwise unexpected) sentence. Thus, if we are to say that a jar is only figuratively "perceptible," we must already know that there is, in fact, such a thing as ajar, and that it is simply not really perceptible, such that these two terms ("jar" and "perceptible") were (like utpada and sukha) "asarrzbaddha." But in fact, conventional usage reflects the belief that jars are perceptible, so there is no obvious contradiction such as would require recourse to figurative explanation. This point is obscured, I think, in Ruegg's translation, which I do not find clear: ." ... no such thing as a pot not directly perceptible is separately apprehended which might become directly perceptible through transfer" (2002: 122).

141 70.8-71.2: Nfladivyatiriktasya gha{asyacabhtivad aupacarikarrz pratyak$atvam iii cet, evam api sutaram upacaro na yukta, upacaryamal}asya-asrayasya-abhavat; na hi kharavisane [de Jong] taik$l}yam upacalyate. Api ca, lokavyavaharangabhUto ghato yadi niladivyatirikto nastfti lq-tva tasya-aupacarikarrz pratyak$atvarrz parikalpyate, nanv evarrz sati prthivyadivyatirekel}a nfladikam api nastfti, nllader asya-aupacarikarrz pratyak$atvarrz kalpyatarrz. Yathoktarrz: "Riipadivyatirekel}a yatha kumbho na vidyate, vayvadivyatirekel}a fatha rLlparrz na vidyate" iti. CandrakIrti thus argues that an appeal to figurative usage based on its really being the parts of a jar (or jar-appearing "sense data") that are perceived is even less promising for Dignliga, since that only opens the way for CandrakIrti' s characteristic point against the reductionist version of Buddhism. That is, CandrakIrti will gladly concede that medium-

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Therefore, since [your] definition does not accommodate these exam. pIes of ordinary discourse, [your] definition has insufficient extension142•

For143 the perceptibility of things like jars and colors and so forth is not accepted from the point of view of one who knows reality (tattvavid apek~aya); but according to worldly convention, the perceptibility of jars and so forth is precisely to be accepted! As it is said in the [Catu~]sataka: "The whole jar, unseen, is present even when only its color is seen; but what knower of reality would say that a jar is [ultimately] perceptible? By this very same reasoning, sweet fragrance, melodious sound, softness - all [of these] are [similarly] to be denied by one possessed of supreme intellect" 144.

Moreover, because of the fact that the word 'perception' is expressive of the meaning visible (aparok~a), an object that is plainly before us is

sized objects like jars are analytically reducible - but once having opened the way for this kind of critical analysis, he will then press the point and urge that there is no irreducible remainder, so that analytic categories like sense data must themselves be understood as dependent. This passage, it seems to me, provides some warrant for my reading of the problematic passage at 68.2-4; cf., n.123, above. The verse cited is CatuJ:zsataka 14.15; cf., Lang 1986: 130-31.

142 That is, it doesn't cover all the usages that a successful definition would have to cover; cf., n.136, above, and Ruegg (2002:123).

143 Ruegg (2002: 123) here begins a new paragraph, and indicates that a different point is being addressed. I follow the paragraphs of La Vallee Poussin' s edition, though, and take Candrakfrti here to be amplifying the same point.

144 71.3-9: Tasmad evamadikasya lokavyavaharasya lakifGlJena-asaY(!grahad, avyapitaiva lakifGlJasyeti. Tattvavidapekifaya hi "pratyakifatvaY(! gha{adrnaY(! n!ladlnall! ca naifYate"; lokasaY(!vrtya tv abhyupagantavyam eva pratyakifatvay(! gha{adrnaY(!. Yathoktal"J"l Satake: "Sarva eva gha{o 'drifto rupe rJTifte hi jayate, bruytit kas tattvavinnama gharaJ:z pratyakifa ity api? Etenaiva vicarel}a sugandhi madhuraY(! mrdu, pratiifedhayitavyani sarval}y uttamabuddhina" iti. The last passage quoted is CatuJ:zsataka 13.1-2 (Lang 1986: 118-9; Tillemans 1990: vol. 1, 175). I take the point to be that, conventionally, one speaks of the whole jar as "perceptible," even though it is of course technically true that one only really "perceives" various aspects of it. It is, nevertheless, said to be perceptible from the conventional perspective, and the contrast is thus with the perspective of a "knower of reality" (tattvavid) - that is, the perspective of a fully realized Buddha, who of course realizes that there is nothing that is ultimately "perceptible." This quotation furthers Candrakfrti's critique of pratyakifa as a privileged pramal}a. It is fitting that Candrakfrti should begin this section by quoting the CatuJ:zsataka; for arguments like those advanced here are also developed in chapter 13 of Candrakfrti's CatuJ:zsatakavrtti, which is a key source for this argument against pratyakifa; in Tillemans 1990, voU, pp.175-199 (trans.), and vol.2, pp.60-l27 (Tibetan text, Sanskrit fragments); and especially p.277n, 287n.


[conventionally s;lid to be] 'perceptible. '145 By virtue of the fact that (iti krtva) the sense organ (ak~am) is directed towards it, the perceptibility of visible things like jars and color and so forth is established. [p.72] Since a cognition that discerns these [jars, color, etc.] has a perceptible [object] as its cause, [it] is designated [as] being a perception, as [in the case of] a straw- or chaff-fireI46. But147 the etymology of one who etymologizes (vyutpadayati) the word 'perception' as [what] is directed towards each sense faculty (ak~am ak~af!l prati vartate)148 doesn't make sense, because of the cognition's not having the sense faculty as its object - rather, its object is an object. [Following the etymology of Dignaga,] we should

145 If I rightly understand the section that begins here, Ruegg (2002: 124, ff.) has significantly mistaken the dialectical flow of the argument here; for Ruegg introduces this passage as having been spoken by CandrakIrti's imagined interlocutor -whereas on my reading, this passage advances C andrakfrti' s preferred account of the word pratyak~a. That is, CandrakIrti is here elaborating what he takes to be the conventional - the primarily adjectival - use of the word, according to which cognitions are so called only in the derivative sense that they arise in connection with something 'perceptible'.

146 That is, such fires are similarly so-called because of having straw or chaff as their causes. This is CandrakIrti's preferred way of explaining the (nominal) sense of the word pratyak:fa as denoting an episternic faculty. Of this move, Tillemans (1990, voLl: 44) aptly says: "By shifting etymologies CandrakIrti tries to make perception banal: any consciousness, conceptual or not, caused by a perceptible (pratyak~a) object will be termed pratyak:fa." As we will see below (at p.75.2-4; cf., n.179, below), one of the upshots of this is that, given the range of objects conventionally described as "perceptible," it becomes appropriate to say (contra Dignaga) that what Dignaga would consider to be "abstractions" are among the objects of perception.

147 Ruegg (2002: 125) takes this to begin CandrakIrti's response to the preceding; on my reading, though, CandrakIrti is here building on the same point. More particularly, CandrakIrti now proceeds to show that Dignaga's preferred etymological explanation of the word cannot be made to fit with the preceding observations - which, again, describe CandrakIrti's sense of the conventional usage. It would, then, be incoherent to attribute the preceding passage to Dignaga, since CandrakIrti' s point now is to show that the preceding is precisely what Dignaga's usage cannot explain.

148 Hattori notes (1968: 76-77, n.l.l1) that CandrakIrti here critiques the etymology given by Dignaga in his *Nyayamukha; cf., Ruegg (2002:125, n.233). As Ruegg there notes, Dharmottara's Nyayabindu{fka also discusses Dignaga's etymology, against which Dharmottara proposes his own account of pratyak:fa - interestingly, one that does explain the adjectival sense of the word (though the main objective of Dharmottara and his commentator Durvekamisra is to argue for an etymology that makes it possible for manasa-, yogi-, and svasm'{!vedana-pratyak~a to count as instances of pratyak~a, whereas given the etymology of Dignaga, it only makes sense to think of indriya-pratyak:fa as properly an example of the genus.) See Malvania 1971 :38-39 (where Durvekamisra specifically names Dignaga as the one whose view is there under critique).

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[counterfactually characterize the faculty that picks out perceptible objects like jars as] "occurring in connection with an object" (prati-vi~ayam) or "occurring in connection with a thing" (praty-artham)149.

[Objection:] Even given that the functioning of perceptual cognition (vijfzana) is dependent upon both [the sense faculty and an object], it is based on conformity with the acuity 150 of the basis (asraya) - i.e., because perceptual cognitions have the quality of changing as that [basis] changes151 - that there is designation [of the episternic faculty] precisely in terms of the basis [thereof]. [Thus, for example, we speak of] ocular cognition (cak~urvijfzana), [which is named for the eye]. In just the same way, even if it proceeds always towards objects, nevertheless, proceeding always in reliance upon the senses, the cognition is designated in terms of the basis [upon which it thus relies]; hence, it will be [called] 'perception' (praty-ak~am, "with respect to the senses "). For it is [com-

149 71.10-72.3: Api ca-aparok~iirthaviicitviit pratyak~asabdasya. siik~iid abhimukho 'rthal:z pratyak~al:z. Pratigatam ak~am asminn iti krtvii, ghatanfliidfniim aparok~iil!iiytl pratyak~atvaYfl siddhaYfl bhavati. Tatpariccheda-[p.72]-kasya jiiiinasya trl!atu~iignivat pratyak~akiiral!atviit (Tib.: mngon sum gyi rgyu can yin pa'i phyir), pratyak~atvaYfl vyapadisyate. Yas tv ak~am ak~aYfl prati vartata iti pratyak~asabdaYfl vyutpiidayati, tasya jiiiinasya-indriyiivi~ayatvii[d vi~ayavi~ayatviiJc ca na yuktii vyutpattil:z. Prativi~ayaYfl tu syiit pratyartham iti vii. With this last point, CandrakIrti effectively charges that Dignaga's own etymology doesn't serve his purposes; for insofar as Dignaga wants primarily to designate the privileged epistemic faculty that "operates with respect to" (prati vartate) perceptibles, he would be better off etymologizing vi~ayaYfl vi~ayaYfl prati vartate - in which case, though, the faculty would be called prativi~aya (or pratyartha) , not pratyak~a. Ruegg, thinking that CandrakIrti is here giving his preferred account, misses the fact that CandrakIrti is adducing what is an unwanted consequence for Digniiga. Thus, Ruegg seems not to appreciate that the optative verb at the conclusion is meant to indicate something counterfactual, and "instead translates the last sentence thus: "But let there stand [the expression] prativi~ayam, or [the expression] pratyartham." (Ruegg 2002: 125-6)

150 asrayasya pa{umandatii; literally, "the basis's being sharp or dull." 151 Literally, "because of cognitions' being possessors of change when there is change

of that ... " The reference here (noted by Ruegg [2002: 126, n.235]) is clearly to Abhidharmakosabhii~am 1.45 (pradhan 1975 :34), which begins tadvikiiravikiiritviid asrayiis cak~uriidayal:z ("the loci [of the senses are] the eyes, etc., because of [cognition's] changing when there is change in those"). The bhii~a (Ibid.) explains: ca~uriidfniiYfl hi vikiirel!a tadvijiiiiniiniiYfl bhavaty anugrahopaghiitapa{umandatiinuvidhiiniin na tu rupiidfniiytl vikiirelJll tadvikiiral:z ("for [change] arises on the part of cognitions arising from [the senses], inasmuch as they are functioning or destroyed, sharp or dull, etc., according to change on the part of the eyes and so forth; but change in that [i.e., cognition] is not according to change on the part of the [cognized] forms, etc").


monly] seen [that there is] designation [of a thing] in terms of its specific cause (asiidhiira1)a), [as, e.g., we speak of] the sound of a drum, a sprout of barley, [even though there are also other causes operating to produce these effects]l52.

[Response:] This [case of pratyak~a] is not the same as the foregoing153 ; for in that case, if perceptual cognition (vijfiiina) were being defined in terms of its object - as, for example, "perceptual cognition of form," etc - then the difference[s that obtain] on the part of the sixfold perceptual cognition could not be made clear, since mental cognition (manovijfziina) proceeds with respect to the very same object as visual cognition154. [p.73] That is, if the sixfold cognition of color, etc. 155, were [merely] called 'perceptual cognition' (vijfiiinam) , [simpliciter,] there [would] arise a conception accompanied by an expectation, [to wit:] "is this a perceptual cognition produced by the senses that possess form156, or is it a mental [cognition]?" But when the specification is in terms of the basis [ofthe sense], even given the possibility that mental cognition

152 72.4-7: Atha syiit, yathobhayiidhfniiyiim api vijfziinapravrttiiv, iisrayasya pa{umandatii-anuvidhiiniid vijfziiniinii/'{! tadvikiiravikiiritviid, iisrayelJaiva vyapadeSo bhavati, cakeurvijfziinam iti; eva/'{! yady apy artham artha/'{! prati vartate, tathiipy ak:fam akeam iisritya vartamiina/,{! vijfziinam, iisrayelJa vyapaddiit; pratyak~am iti bhavieyati. DN{o hy asiidhiiralJena vyapadeSo bherfsabdo yaviilikura iti. Here, it is a discussion in Dignaga's PramiilJasamuccaya (1.4a-b) that is likely referred to. Hattori gives the Sanskrit of Dignaga's kiirikii at p.87, n.1.32: asiidhtiralJahetutviid akeais

, tad vyapadisyate. The vrtti on this passage then proceeds to discuss precisely the examples here adduced by CandrakIrti (viz., those of the "sound of a drum" and "sprout of barley"). Hattori's translation of the vrtti here is at 1968:26, and the Tibetan is at pp.179-181; cf., also, Hattori's n.1.33, p.87; and Ruegg's comment (2002: 127, n.237).

153 That is, the example of cak:;urivijfziina' s being so called is not relevant to the case of pratyakea's being so called, for reasons to be made clear presently.

154 That is, the only reason for specifying the different vijfziinas in terms of the various indriyas from which they arise is to distinguish them from manovijfiiina ("mental cognition"); for according to standard Abhidharmika analysis, the proper object of "mental cognition" just is the outputs of (the "cognitions "yielded by) the other five senses. Manovijiliina, then, cannot be distinguished in terms of its object insofar as it has as its object the outputs of the other vijfziinas - and hence, their objects. The point that mental cognition thus bears, in a sense, on the same object as the various sensory cognitions is, it seems to me, not clear from Ruegg's translation: " ... for a mental cognition bears on a single object, along with eye-cognition, etc ... " (2002: 127).

155 That is, of all of the various things that respectively constitute the proper objects of the six kinds of sensory cognition.

156 That is, by one of the five bodily senses.

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functions with respect to the objects of the ocular and 'other [sensory] cognitions, the difference between them is [nonetheless] established157•

But in this case [i.e., that of pratyak~aF58, if, with a desire to explain the definition of reliable warrants, it's accepted [by you] that the fact of being a perception belongs only to what is devoid of conception159, [then] because it's desired [by you] that we distinguish that [i.e., perception] only from conception, no benefit whatsoever is seen in designation according to the special cause160•

And given that the function and number of reliable warrants are dependent on warrantable objects, and because of the presentation of the nature (svarupa) of [your] two reliable warrants - whose reality is gained by virtue of the fact simply of [their] following the forms of [the two kinds of] warrantable objects - specification in terms of the sense [faculties] does not help at all; hence, designation precisely by the object is in every way suitable161 •

157 72.8-73.3: Na-etat pilrvelJa tulyal[l. Tatra hi vi~ayelJa vijfiiine iiyapadisyamiine, rilpavijfiiinam ityevamiidinii, vijfiiina~atkasya bhedo na-upadarsitaiJ syiit, manovijfiiinasya ca~uriidivijfiiinaiiJ sahaika-[p.73]-vi~ayapravrttatviit. Tathii hi nlliidivijfiiina~atke vijfiiinam ity ukte, siikiil[lk~a eva pratyayo iiiyate [de J ong]: "kim etad rilpfndriyajal[l vijfiiinam, iihosvin miinasam?" iti. AsrayelJa tu vyapade.§e, manovijfiiinacak~uriidivijfiiinavi~ayapravrttisal[lbhave 'pi, parasparabhedaiJ siddho bhavati.

158 Here, the iha still relates to the previous paragraph's na-etat pilrvelJa tulyam ("this is not the same as the preceding"). Thus, the interlocutor had wanted to say that pratyak~a should be named in terms of its iisraya (i.e., the senses), just as the various vijfiiinas are. CandrakIrti has responded that the cases aren't comparable, and has just explained why the vijfiiinas are designated as they are. Now, he explains why pratyak~a is designated as it is - or rather, as Digniiga's project would require .

.159 Here, CandrakIrti brings in Dignaga's defmition of pratyak~a as constitutively "devoid of conceptual elaboration" (kalpaniipotj.ha).

160 73.4-6: lha tu pramiilJalak~alJavivak~ayii kalpaniipotj.hamiitrasya pratyak~atviibhyupagame sati, vikalpakiid eva tadvise~atviibhimatatviid asiidhiiralJakiiralJena vyapadese sati [strike this], na kil[l cit prayojanam upalak~ate. Here, I read according to La Vallee Poussin's n.8, p.73, which indicates that the second sati in this sentence (i.e., p.73.5) is lacking in the Tibetan, and should be struck, so that the locative can be taken as a vi~aye saptami. The point is just that, given Dignaga's definition of pratyak~a, all he should be interested in doing is being sure to advance a nirukti that excludes kalpanii - just as cakeurvijfiiina is so called only in order to distinguish it from manovijfiiina. But taking praty-ak~am to refer to the iisraya does not advance that cause in any way.

161 73.6-8: Prameyaparatantriiyiil[l ca pramiilJasal[lkhyiipravrttau, prameyiikiiriinukiiritiimiitratayii ca samiisiiditiitmabhiivasattiikayoiJ pramiilJayoiJ svarilpasya vyavasthiipaniin,


[Objection:] Since the word 'perception,' in the sense intended, is well known in the world, and since the word 'with respect to an object' (pratyartha) is not well known, the etymology just in terms of the basis [of the sense faculty] is followed [by us]162.

We respond: [p.74J This word 'perceptible' is indeed well-known in the world163 ; but it is explained by us [and not by you] precisely as it is in the worldl64. But if, with disregard for ordinary categories as they are established, your etymology is being offered, [then] there would also be disregard for the expression 'well-known'! 165 And based on that [disregard], what is [commonly] called 'perception' would not be SUCh166.

na-indriyer;za vyapaddal} kiTJ1 cid upakarotfti, sarvathii vi.rayer;zaiva vyapaddo nyiiyyal}. Again, CandrakIrti here accepts, ex hypothesi, Dignaga's goals, noting that according to

these one ought to want a nirukti that etymologizes pratyak.ra in terms of its object, since the whole point of Dignaga' s account is that pramiir;za follows/corresponds to prameya. But of course, if CandrakIrti wins this concession, then he's well on the way to advancing the trivialization of Dignaga' s privileged epistemic faculty.

162 73.9-74.1: Loke pratyak.rasabdasya prasiddhatviid, vivak.rite 'rthe pratyarthasabdasya-apratisiddhatviid, iisrayer;zaiva vyutpattir iisrfyata iti cet. Here, CandrakIrti's interlocutor turns the tables, rejoining that, on Candrakfrti's etymological principles, the epistemic faculty that picks out perceptibles ought to be called pratyartham - and since such is clearly not the case, it cannot be that the adjectival sense is

. rightly thought to be primary. 163 Ruegg (taking asti in an existential sense, and not as a copula): "There is this word

pratyak.ra which is current among ordinary folk in the world ... " (2002: 129). 164 Ruegg misses the disjunctive sense of tu here, taking it instead as vacuous

("indeed"): "We have indeed expressed this just as it is in the world" (2002:129). This misses the contrast that CandrakIrti here urges between his own deference to conventional usage, and (what he takes to be) Dignaga's inability to accommodate such usage.

165 The compoundprasiddhasabda could also be rendered thus: "there would also be disregard for the well-known word [i.e., pratyak.ra]."

166 74.1-3: Ucyate: asty ayaTJ1 pratyak.rasabdo lokaprasiddhal} [de Jong]. Sa tu yathii loke, tathiismiibhir ucyata eva. Yathiisthitalauldkapadiirthatiraskiire(la tu tadvyutpiide kriyamiir;ze, prasiddhasabdatiraskiiro 'pi syiit [de Jong], tatas ca pratyak.ram ityevaTJ1 [na] syiit. Again, Ruegg reads the optative (syiit) in an existential rather than a copulative sense (cf., n.163, above): "Thus there would not exist the term 'pratyak.ra'." (2002:130) But CandrakIrti's point, I think, is one that is comparable to a point made by many twentieth-century "ordinary language" philosophers: viz., that one cannot use a well-known, ordinary word, and yet substitute for it a peculiarly technical sense - for in that case it's then no longer the same thing that is under discussion. What CandrakIrti is saying, then, is not that the word pratyak.ra would not exist, but simply that the things conventionally designated by the word would not be rightly so called - in which case, most people would be wrong in their use of what is supposed to be a conventional word (a supposition that contradicts its being "conventional").

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And there could not be, on the part of one visual cognition, whose basis is a single moment of sense faculty, the quality of being a perception, since there would be no point in repetition (vfpsarthtibhtivat) 167 ; and if there is absence of the quality of being a perception on the part of one [such moment], there would be [such absence] on the part of many [instances of cognition, i.e., a continuum], tool68 .

And because you accept that only cognition that is devoid of conception is perceptionl69 ; and since nobody's discourse is by way of that [kind of cognition] 170; and because of the desirability of explainingl7l worldly

167 Here, CandrakIrti begins a new tack, one that again accepts, ex hypothesi, Dignaga's commitments - here, presumably, the idea of k:;alJikatva ("momentariness"), according to which pratyak:;a, like any cognitive event, would be constitutively episodic - would, that is, have to consist in atomic moments of sense-function. This, then, is the context for CandrakIrti's reference to the grammarians' device of vfpsa (Tib., zlos pa), "repetition" - specifically (according to Apte, p.1487, s. v., meaning #2), the notion of "Repetition of words to imply continuous or successive action." (Apte gives the example "vrk:;arrz vrk:;arrz sificati.") This is the device that is invoked in etymologizing pratyak:;a as ak:;am ak:farrz prati vartate, and CandrakIrti is pointing out that "repetition" (ak:fam ak:;am) implies a continuity or successiveness such as could not obtain given the idea of radical k:falJikatva. Thus, a single, atomic moment of (say) ocular perception could not warrant the grammarians' device of vfpsa.

168 74.3-5: Ekasya ca cak:;urvijfianasya-ekendriyak:;alJasrayasya pratyak:;atvarrz na syad vfpsartMbMvat (Tib., zlos pa'i don med pa'i phyir) ekaikasya ca pratyak:;atvabMve, bahUnam api na syat. This last point is then reminiscent of one of the fundamental points of Vasubandhu' s critique of atoms in the Virrzsatika (and of Dignaga's similar arguments from the Alambanaparfk:;a): if a single, "atomic" moment of perceptual cognition does not make sense (here, insofar as it renders the repetition ak:;am ak:;am meaningless), then there is nothing out of which to build up a succession (or "continuum," sarrztana) of sensory cognitions, either. This is all put very elliptically, and the point, again, is simply to argue that Dignaga' s proposed account does not advance (because it is not coherent with) his own goals.

169 Ruegg (2002: 130) here, as throughout this section, renders pratyak:;a as 'perceptible'; but I think that if we are to make sense of these passages, we must take CandrakIrti to be provisionally adopting Dignaga's preferred sense of the word. As with the earlier discussion of svalak:falJa, then, the debate concerning pratyak:fa similarly involves some alternation in meaning, insofar as it is precisely what the word should mean that is most basically in question.

170 The word tena here will, I think, admit of two readings: it can mean something like "thus" or "therefore," in which case what follows (lokasya sarrzvyavahiirabhiivat) is intended counterfactually ("because there would be no meaningful discourse on the part of the world"); or it can refer back to kalpanapoqhajfiana, in which case (as in my translation) it simply says there is no meaningful discourse in the world of the sort that makes use of this conception. The latter is probably the more Sanskritically straightforward read-


discourse with respect to reliable warrants and warrantable objects -[your] conception of the reliable warrant that is perception becomes quite senseless 172.

[You have cited, in support of your claim that perception is constitutively devoid of conceptual elaboration, a familiar Abhidharma text that says,] "A man endowed [only] with visual cognition senses173 blue, but [he does] not [know] that it is blue.,,174 The point of this authoritative text (agama) is not to state a definition of pratyak~aI7S, but [is instead simply

ing in the present context, but CandrakIrti can (and, I have argued elsewhere, should) be understood as well to be making the stronger point - viz., that Dignaga's whole project is self-referentially incoherent, insofar as his use of ordinary words in peculiarly technical senses would absurdly entail the impossibility even of the discourse in which he is engaged; for it is a condition of the possibility of meaningful discourse that people understand words in more or less the same way. Ruegg renders tena here in the way that could recommend this stronger point: " ... and because there is, therefore, [according to your doctrine on this matter] no [simple] transactional-pragmatic usage .... " (2002: 130; my emphasis)

171 vyiikhyiitum iij!atviit. This could be read in a couple of ways - it could be taken normatively (i.e., as reflected in the translation I have given here), in which case we might prefer here to see a gerundive; or it could simply be stating Dignaga's own avowed interests (in which case, we might render, "since you desire to explain ... ").

172 74.6-8: Kalpaniipoghasyaiva ca jMnasya pratyakijatviibhyupagamiit, tena ca lokasya sal'{lvyavahiiriibhiiviit, lauldkasya ca pramiilJaprameyavyavahiirasya vyiikhyiitum iijiatviit, vyarthaiva pratyakijapramiilJakalpanii sal'{ljayate.

173 Here, I read (following a quotation of this sentence by Yasomitra) vijiiniiti (rather than with Candraldrti's jiiniiti). See n.174.

174 "Cakijurvijiiiinasamangi nilal'{l jiiniiti no tu nilam iti." Dignaga cites this quotation in his vrtti to PramiilJasamuccaya 1.4 (translated at Hattori, p.26; Tibetan at Hattori, p.179), where he reports that it is said "in an Abhidharma treatise" (chos mngon pa las). The passage can be found in, e.g., the Abhidharmakosavyiikhyii of Yasomitra, whose text reads vijiiniiti (in contrast with Candraldrti's jiiniiti); see Shastri 1998: 72. (According to Ruegg [2002:131, n.254],Yasomitra is quoting the Vijiiiinakiiya.) Hattori succinctly summarizes the motivation behind Dignaga' s citation of this: "The expression 'nilal'{l vijiiniiti' implies that one has an immediate awareness of the object itself. On the other hand, 'nilam iti vijiiniiti' implies that one forms a perceptual judgement by associating a name with the object perceived. Thus, the above Abhidharma passage expresses the thought that perception is free from conceptual construction (kalpaniipogha)." (1968: 88, n.1.36) On my rendering "nilam iti" with a "that-clause," see Arnold (2005), Chapter 7.

175 iigamasya pratyakijalakijalJiibhidhiiniirthasya-aprastutatviit. Though a Sanskritically natural way to express CandrakIrti' s point, this phrase is particularly difficult to render in a syntactically literal way into English. Such a rendering would go something like this: "because the point (artha) of stating a deflnition of pratyakija is not the subject (a-prastuta) of this iigama" - or more precisely (disclosing the fact that this predication is stated in the form of a genitive-pIus-tva construction), "because of [this] point's not being the

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that of] [p.75] demonstrating (pratipiidaka) the insentience (jaqatva) of the five [bodily] senses!76. Hence177, not on the basis of authoritative texts, either, [can it be said that] the quality of being perception belongs only to cognition that is devoid of conception; hence, this [characterization of pratyak~a as "devoid of conceptual elaboration"] does not make sense178•

Therefore, in the world, if any (sarvam eva) subject of characterization (lak~ya) - whether it be a svalak~m:!a or a siimiinyalak~alJa - is visible, because of being directly apprehended, then it is established as perceptible, along with the cognition that has it as its object [which is deriv-

subject of this iigama." Such constructions are, I think, generally best rendered in the latter way ("X's being Y"), which discloses that such constructions generally state simple identities ("X is Y") - but do so in such a way as to make it possible to show the inferential consequences of such identities (so that, putting the Y tenn in the ablative, we get, "because ofX's being Y"). But when the tenn in the genitive (arthasya) is, as in this case, the final member of a lengthy tatpuru~a compound, this becomes impossible. It is, however, important to see that the construction can be read this way, since, in the present case, another alternative is to take the second genitival compound as a bahuvrfhi: "because of the irrelevance of this iigama, which has as its purpose the expression of a definition of perception." So Ruegg: " ... there is no relevance [here] of the Agama which has the sense expressing the defining characteristic of direct perception." (2002:131; my emphasis) The problem is that on this construal, the claim does not effectively counter Dignaga's appeal to it. Ruegg tries to salvage CandrakIrti' s point by taking the sentence to mean that this passage, though defming 'perception,' is not relevant here. On my reading, in contrast, CandrakIrti more basically contests Dignaga's understanding of the passage. In fact, the context for Yasomitra's citation of the passage (see n.174) recommends CandrakIrti's point; for Yasomitra adduces the quotation in commenting on the part of Vasubandhu's text that treats the cognitive outputs of the five non-mental senses - and the point of the passage is (as Candraldrti. goes on to say) thus to urge simply that the outputs of the five sense faculties are not meaningful until they have become the objects, as well, of the manovijfiiina. This quotation, as deployed by these Abhidharmikas, therefore indeed does not .state a defmition of perception, but instead makes a characteristically Abhidharmika point about the relationship between the five bodily "vijfiiinas" and the manovijiiiina.

176 That is, their being "non-epistemic" until they have become the objects of the manovijfiiina; see the preceding note. Ruegg's rendering of the fust reason (preceding note) obscures the recognition that this second reason represents a contrasting interpretation of the same text (i.e., of the quotation adduced by Dignaga); thus, Ruegg translates: " ... and (n) Agama makes known that the five cognitions belonging to the sense faculties are [in themselves] insentient." (2002: 131)

177 Both of the foregoing phrases occur in the ablative, giving two reasons for the conclusion now stated.

178 74.8-75.2 "Cak~urvijfiiinasamahgf nfla'Tl jiiniiti no tu nflam iti" ity ca-iigamasya pratyak~alak~alJiibhidhiiniirthasya-aprastutatviit, paficii-[p.75]niim indriyavijfiiiniinii'Tl jatfatvapratipiidakatviic ca, na-iigamiid api kalpaniipotfhasyaiva vijfiiinasya pratyak~atvam iti na yuktam etat.


atively called 'pratyak~a'].179 But twin moons and other such [illusions] do not, from the point of view of the cognition of one without cataracts, have the quality of being perceptible (apratyak~atvam) - although from the point of view of one with cataracts, [such illusions] have precisely the quality of being perceptible18o•

179 This, then, is the point Candraldrti has been driving at all along: if it is finally the adjectival sense of pratyak~a ("perceptible") that is primary, and if this motivates the derivative usage of the word that denotes as well "the cognition that has [any perceptible thing] as its object" (tadvi~ayel)a jiiiinena saha), then the word cannot be thought to pick out a privileged cognitive instrument (one that is "kalpaniipOlfha"). In that case, it must be allowed that "abstractions" (siimiinyalak~al)as), too, are "perceptible." Ruegg's translation misses what I thus take to be the point: "Therefore, for ordinary folk in the world, if [as claimed by you, there indeed exists] a lak~ya, or if [there indeed exists both] a svalak~al)a and a siimiinyalak~al)a, all will in fact be not unamenable to perception, for there will [then] be immediate apprehension." (2002: 131) As quickly becomes clear, the confusion here follows from Ruegg's not taking this all to represent Candrakfrti's own conclusion about the proper understanding of pratyak~a. Hence, Ruegg completes this passage thus: "And [by you] the pratyak~a is accordingly set out systematically along with the (vi)jiiiina having it for its object."

180 75.2-5: Tasmiillake yadi lak~a'fl, yadi vii svalak~al)a'fl siimiinyalak~al)a'fl vii, saryam eva siik~iid upalabhyamiinatviid aparak~a'fl, atal} pratyak$a'fl vyavasthiipyate tadvi~ayel)a jiiiinena saha. Dvicandriidinii'fl tv ataimirikajiiiiniipek~ayii-apratyak~atva'fl, taimirkiidyapek$ayii tu pratyak~atvam eva. Ruegg takes the last sentence as stating an unwanted consequence for Dignaga: "However, [following your doctrine,] in respect [even] to those who are affected by eye-disease and the like there will indeed be direct perceptibility." (Ruegg 2002: 132; cf., his n.256) I take it that this is, rather, part of the account of pratyak$a that Candraldrti is commending as contra Dignaga's, and that it therefore states a positively desired consequence -desired, that is, insofar as it undercuts the privileged status of Dignaga's category of "perception." Candraldrti's point, then, is that perception is not intrinsically better suited, independent of context, to confer justification; rather, what is "perceptible" is always relative to perceivers and their contexts. Candraldrti's point about the genuine "perceptibility" of "twin moons" represents precisely the sort of claim that is reversed by such later "sviitantrikas" as Ifianagarbha and Santaraksita. Consider, e.g., Ichigo's statement of the impetus behind the sviitantrika distinction between "true" and "false conventional": " ... Santarak~ita owes one of his definitions of conventional truth... to Ifianagarbha' s basic idea of conventional truth 'as it appears.' This being the nature of conventional reality, should we then also regard as conventional truth the double moon that appears to those who have defective vision? Partly in response to this issue, Ifianagarbha distingnishes two types of conventional truth, namely true and false conventional truth." (lchigo 1989: 169) To the extent that Candraldrti's point is to emphasize only how dramatically limited is our perspective relative to the ultimate truth, he is not simply saying that, on the conventional level, "anything goes." Indeed, Candraldrti may posit something analogous to the sviitantrikas' mithyiisa'flvrti in the form of "alakasa'flvrti" ("non-worldly conventional"); cf., Prasannapadii 493.2-4. With his char-

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But cognition whose object is [something] invisible, [when such cognition is] produced by a mark that is invariably concomitant (avyabhicarin) with the thing to be proven, [is known as] inference181• The speech of those who are accomplished, who know diTectly things that are beyond the senses - this is [known as] tradition. Understanding of a thing not [previously] experienced, based on [its] similarity [with something familiar, is known as] comparison - for example, [when one learns that,] "a cow is like an ox." Just so: everyone's understanding of things is established based on this fourfold [scheme of] reliable warrants.182

acteristic stress that "conventional" means "lacking in critical analysis," though, Candraldrti may invite some clarification such as the sviitantrikas elaborated. We can nevertheless appreciate that Candraldrti's basic point here is simply to relativize our epistemic instruments: none is intrinsically suited to confer justification, which will always be a matter of context - and the context of those of us who are not already Buddhas is such that none of our cognitive instruments can be thought to put us into cognitive contact with anything that is "ultimately existent" (paramarthasat).

181 Not having seen that the preceding section represented Candrakiiti.'s preferred account of pratyak~a, Ruegg now seems not to see the natural segue here to Candrakirti's endorsing (as conventionally valid, at least) the standard Naiyayika list of pramiil}£ls. Thus, Ruegg translates: "On the other hand, a jiiiina that .... " (2002: 132) But Candrakirti is not, I take it, here offering an alternative to the foregoing; rather, having endorsed a characteristically Naiyayika understanding of perception (i.e., as including "abstractions" among its objects), he is now proceeding more generally to endorse this alternative to Dignaga's spartan epistemology.

182 75.6-9: Parok~avi~ayarrz tu jiiiinarrz siidhyiivyabhiciirilingotpannam, anumiinarrz. Sii~iid atindriyiirthavidiim iiptiiniirrz tad vacanarrz, sa iigamalJ. SiidrSyiid ananubhiltiirthiidhigama upamiinarrz, gaur iva gavaya iti yathii. Tad evarrz pramii1Jacatu~tayiil lokasyaarthiidhigamo vyavasthiipyate. Cabez6n, commenting on a quotation of this passage by the dGe-Iugs-pa scholar mKhasgrub-Ije, considers it "a conundrum why Candraldrti chose to cite four types of valid cognitions (as the Naiyayikas do, for example), and not the standard two of Dignaga and Dharmaldrti." (1992:454n) He takes the point of the passage, in the hands of mKhasgrub-Ije, to be that of "proving that the Madhyamikas do not in general repudiate the notion of a valid cognition" (1992: 118) - that is, that Madhyamaka can retain the project of Dignaga and Dharmaldrti as at least conventionally useful. It should be clear by now, though, that Candraldrti's endorsement of this fourfold schema is meant to be an endorsement of what he takes to be an adequate account of our conventional episteInic practices - and that specifically contra the account of Dignaga, which Candraldrti takes to be (not only not ultimately but) not even conventionally valid. The characteristically dGelugs-pa fudging of this point serves the goal of taking Candraldrti as normative, while at the same time retaining precisely the epistemological discourse he so clearly disInisses. It raises interesting historical and philosophical questions that this Tibetan tradition should thus have wedded what Candraldrti, at least, took to be antithetical projects.

MATERIALS FOR A MADHY~ CRITIQUE OF FOUNDATIONALISM 463

And these are established in dependence upon one another: given reliable warrants, there are warrantable objects, and given warrantable objects, there are reliable warrants183• But it is emphatically not the case that the establishment of reliable warrants and their objects is essential (svabhiivikl)184. Therefore, let the mundane remain just as it is seen185 •

Enough of this subject (aZaY(l prasangena)! We will [now] explain the real matter at hand. The teaching of the dharma of the blessed Buddhas [was given with them] having located themselves precisely in the worldly perspective186•

Abbreviations

Abhyankar, K. V. 1977. A Dictionary of Sanskrit Grammar. Second, Revised edition. Baroda: Oriental Institute.

Alston, William. 1989. "A 'Doxastic Practice' Approach to Epistemology," in Marjorie Clay and Keith Lehrer, eds., Knowledge and Skepticism, pp.1-29. Boulder: Westview Press.

Anandasrarna Sanskrit Series, editors of. 1928. Madhava, Sarvadarsanasaf[lgraha. Trivandrum: Anandasrarna Sanskrit Series, vol. 51.

Apte, Varnan Shivararn. 1992. The Practical Sanskrit-English Dictionary. Revised and enlarged edition, edited by P. K. Gode and C. G. Karve. Kyoto: Rinsen. (Reprint; revised and enlarged edition fIrst published in Poona, 1957.)

183 Cf., Oetke's comment, n.87, above. 184 Here, Candrakfrti finally makes clear the presupposition that, on his view, guides

Dignaga's whole project (and the presupposition, therefore, that he [mally means to target with all of the foregoing critique) - viz., that Dignaga's having abstracted privileged pramiilJas is tantamount to his having posited them as independent (or "essential," "natural," etc.) epistemic perspectives on what there is. Against this, what CandrakIrti has chiefly wanted to stress all along is that pramiilJas and prameyas are, like everything else, upiidiiya prajiiaptayal;! - that is (as he puts it elsewhere), they exist "simply as being mutually interdependent" (paraspariipek~iimiitratayii).

185 That is, let it not be thought (per the interlocutor's contention at p.58.l4, ff.; n.44, above) that a systematic re-description of our conventional epistemic practices is called for. Ruegg translates: "Let there be, therefore, only the worldly [Le. transactional-pragmatic convention of ordinary folk] that conforms with what is known by experience" (2002: 134).

186 75.10-13: Tiini ca paraspariipek~ayii sidhyanti: satsu pramiilJe~u prameyiirthiil;!, satsu prameye~v arthe~u pramiilJiini. No tu khalu sviibhiivikf pramiilJaprameyayob siddhir iti; tasmiil laukikam eva-astu yathiidr~fam ity; alaI!! prasangena. Prastutam eva vyiikhyiisyiimal;!. Laukika eva darsane sthitvii buddhiiniil!! bhagavatiil!! dharmade§anii. This programmatic statement concludes the part of CandrakIrti's Prasannapadii that is framed specifically as commenting onMMK 1.1- and it is with this passage that Ruegg's translation from chapter one ends, as well.

464 " DAN ARNOLD

Arnold, Dan. 2001. "How to Do Things with CandrakIrti: A Comparative Study in Anti-skepticism." Philosophy East & West 51/2 (2001): 247-279.

Arnold, Dan. 2003. "Candra1drti on Dignaga on Svalak~aI,1as," Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 26/1: 139-174.

Arnold, Dan. 2005. Buddhists, Brahmins, and Belief: Epistemology in South Asian Philosophy of Religion. New York: Columbia University Press.

Bendall, Cecil, ed. 1970. (ikshiisamuccaya: A Compendium of Buddhist Teaching compiled by (iintideva chiefly from earlier Mahiiyiina-Sutras. Bibliotheca Buddhica, Vol. I. Osnabriick: Biblio Verlag. (Reprint; first published 1897-1902.) .

Bhattacharya, Kamaleswar. 1980. "Nagfujuna's Arguments against Motion: Their Grammatical Basis," in A. L. Basham, et al, eds., Corpus of Indian Studies: Essays in Honor of Professor Gaurinath Sastri, pp.85-95. Calcutta: Sanskrit Pustak Bhandar.

Bhattacharya, Kamaleswar. 1980-81. "The Grammatical Basis of Nagarjuna's Arguments: Some Further Considerations," Indological Taurenensia 8-9: 35-43.

Bhattacharya, Kamaleswar. 1990. The Dialectical Method ofNiigiirjuna: Vigrahavyiivartanf. Third edition, revised and enlarged (containing, along with Bhattacharya's English translation, a critical edition of the Sanskrit by E. H. Johnston and Arnold Kunst). Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1990.

Cabez6n, Jose Ignacio. 1992. A Dose of Emptiness: An Annotated Translation of the sTong thun chen mo of mKhas grub dGe legs dpal bzang. Albany: SUNY Press.

De Jong, J. W. 1978. "Text-critical Notes on the Prasannapadii." Indo-Iranian Journal 20, nos.1/2: pp.25-59; nos.3/4: pp.2l7-252.

De Jong, J. W. 1981. (Review of Mervyn Sprung, Lucid Exposition of the Middle Way), Indo-Iranian Journal 23: 227-230.

Dreyfus, Georges. 1997. Recognizing Reality: Dharmakirti's Philosophy and its Tibetan Interpreters. Albany: SUNY.

Dreyfus, Georges B. J., and Sara L. McClintock, eds. 2003. The Sviitantrika"'. Priisangika Distinction: What Difference Does a Difference Make? Boston:

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language." Philosophy East & West 28/3: 323-337. Griffiths, Paul. 1981. "Buddhist Hybrid English," Journal of the International

Association of Buddhist Studies 4/2: 17-32. Hall, Bruce Cameron. 1983. "Vasubandhu on 'Aggregates, Spheres, and Com

ponents': Being Chapter One of the Abhidharmakosa." Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University.

Hattori Masaaki. 1968. Digniiga, On Perception, being the Pratyak~apariccheda of Digniiga's Pramal.1asamuccaya from the Sanskrit fragments and the Tibetan versions. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1968.


Huntington, C. W. 2003. "Was CandrakIrti a PrasaiJ.gika?", in Dreyfus and McClintock, pp.67-91.

Ichigo Masamichi, ed., trans. 1989. "Santarak~ita's Madhyamakalarrzkara," in Luis Gomez and Jonathan Silk, eds., Studies in the Literature of the Great Vehicle: Three Mahayiina Buddhist Texts, pp.141-240. Ann Arbor: Center for South and Southeast Asian Studies, The University of Michigan.

Ingalls, Daniel H. H. 1954. "The Comparison of Indian and Western Philosophy." lournal of Oriental Research, Madras 22: 1-11.

Katre, Sumitra M. 1987. A~tadhyiiyi of PiilJini. Texas Linguistics Series. Austin: University of Texas Press.

La Vallee Poussin, Louis de, ed. 1970a. Mulamadhyamakakiirikiis (Miidhyamikasutras) de Niigiirjuna, avec la Prasannapadii Commentaire de Candrakirti. Bibliotheca Buddhica, Vol. IV. Osnabrlick: Biblio Verlag. (Reprint; originally St.-Petersbourg: Academie Imperiale des Sciences, 1903-1913.)

La Vallee Poussin, Louis de, ed. 1970b. Madhyamakiivatiira par Candrakirti: Traduction tibetaine. Bibliotheca Buddhica, Vol. IX. Osnabrlick: Biblio Verlag. (Reprint; originally St.-Petersbourg: Academie Imperiale des Sciences, 1907-1912.)

Lang, Karen. 1986. Aryadeva's CatulJsataka: On the Bodhisattva's Cultivation of Merit and Knowledge. Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag.

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Lang, Karen. 2003. Four Illusions: Candrakirti's Advice to Travelers on the Bodhisattva Path. New York: Oxford University Press.

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Matilal, B. K. 1990. The Word and the World: India's Contribution to the Study of Language. Delhi: Oxford University Press.

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Mookerjee, Satkari. 1957. "CandrakIrti's Exposition of the Madhyamika," in Satkari Mookerjee, ed., The Nava-Nalanda-Mahavihara Research Publication (Patna), vol. 1: 42-58.

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Pandeya, Ram Chandra, ed. 1999. Madhyiintavibhiigasiistram, Aciiryamaitreyci. krtakiirikiibhi/:t, ACiirycivasubandhukrtena bhii:ryelJ.a, Sthiramatikrtatikaya ca sal'{lvalitam. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass.

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Rhys Davids, T. W., and William Stede. 1995. The Pali Text Sodety's PaZiEnglish Dictionary. Oxford: Pali Text Society. (Reprint; fIrst published 1921-1925.)

Ruegg, David Seyfort. 1981. The Literature of the Madhyamaka School of Philosophy in India. A History of Indian Literature (ed. Jan Gonda), Vol. vn, Fasc. 1. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz.

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Ruegg, David Seyfort. 2002. Two Prolegomena to Madhyamaka Philosophy: Candraklrti's Prasannapada Madhyamakavrttil,l on Madhyamakakarika 1.1, and Tson kha pa blo bzan grags pa / rGyal tshab dar rna rin chen's dKa' gnad / gnas brgyad kyi zin bris: Annotated Translations. Wiener Studien zur Tibetologie und Buddhismuskunde, Heft 54. Wien: Arbeitskreis fUr tibetische und buddhistische Studien, Universitat Wien.

Ruegg, David Seyfort. 2004. "The Indian and the Indic in Tibetan Cultural History, and TSOIi. kha pa's Achievement as a Scholar and Thinker: An Essay on the Concepts of Buddhism and Tibet and Tibetan Buddhism," Journal of Indian Philosophy 32: 321-343.

Saito Akira. 1984. "A Study of the Buddhapiilita-mulamadhyamaka-vrtti." Ph.D. dissertation, Australian National University.

Schayer, Stanislaw. 1931. Ausgewiihlte Kapitel aus der Prasannapadii (V, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI): Einleitung, Uebersetzung und Anmerkungen. Krakow: Polska Akademja Umiejetnosci, Prace Komisji Orjentalistycznej.

Shastri, Swami Dwarikadas. 1998. Aciiryayasomitrakrtasphutiirthavyiikhyopetam Aciiryavasubandhuviracitam svopajfiabhii:ryasahitafi ca Abhidharmakosam. Bauddha Bharati Series, 5-8 (printed in two volumes). Varanasi: Bauddha Bharati.

Siderits, Mark. 1981. "The Madhyamaka Critique of Epistemology II." Journal of Indian Philosophy 9: 121-160.

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Stcherbatsky, Th. 1927. The Conception of Buddhist NirvaIJa. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 19,89. (Reprint; originally published in Leningrad by the Publishing Office of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR.)

Steinkellner, Ernst. 1982. (Review of Mervyn Sprung, Lucid Exposition of the Middle Way), lournal of the American Oriental Society 102: 411-414.

Thurman, Robert. 1991. The Central Philosophy of Tibet: A Study and Translation of ley Tsong Khapa's Essence of True Eloquence. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (paperback reprint of Tsong Khapa's Speech of Gold in the "Essence of True Eloquence," 1984.)

Tillemans, Tom J. F. 1990. Materialsfor the Study of Aryadeva, Dharmapala and Candrakirti: The Catul;sataka of Aryadeva, Chapters XlI and XlII, with the Commentaries of Dharmapala and Candrak'irti: Introduction, Translation, Sanskrit, Tibetan and Chinese Texts, Notes. Wiener Studien zur Tibetologie und Buddhismuskunde, Heft 24, 1-2. Wien: Arbeitskreis fUr tibetische und buddhistische Studien.

Tillemans, Tom J. F. 2003. "Metaphysics for Madhyamikas," in Dreyfus and McClintock, eds., pp.93-123.

Vaidya, P. L., ed. 1960. Madhyamakasastra ofNagarjuna, with the Commentary: Prasannapadii, by Candrak'irti. Buddhist Sanskrit Texts, No. 10. Darbhanga: Mithila Institute of Post-Graduate Studies and Research in Sanskrit Learning.

Walleser, Max, ed. 1970. Buddhapalita: Mulamadhyamakavrtti: Tibetische Ubersetzung. Bibliotheca Buddhica, Vol. XVI. Osnabriick: Biblio Verlag. (Reprint; originally St.-Petersbourg: Academie Imperiale des Sciences, 1913-1914.)

Yonezawa Yoshiyasu. 1999. "*Lak~aIJatrka: A Sanskrit Manuscript of an Anonymous Commentary on the Prasannapada." Indogaku Bukkyogaku Kenkyu 47/2: 1024-1022.

Yonezawa Yoshiyasu, et al. 2001. "futroduction to the Facsimile Edition of a Collection of Sanskrit Palm-leaf Manuscripts in Tibetan dBu med Script." TaishO University: The Institute for Comprehensive Studies of Buddhism (Study Group of Sanskrit Manuscripts in Tibetan dBu med Script).

Yonezawa Yoshiyasu. 2004. "*La~aIJatfka: Sanskrit Notes on the Prasannapada (1)," lournal of Naritasan Institute jor Buddhist Studies, no.27: 115-154.

Yoshimizu Chizuko. 1996. Die Erkenntnislehre des Prasangika-Madhyamaka: Nach dem Tshig gsal ston thun gyi tshad ma'i rnam Mad des 'lam Dbyans Bzad Pa'i Rdo Rje: Einleitung, Textanalyse, Ubersetzung. Wiener Studien zur Tibetologie und Buddhismuskunde, Heft 37. Wien: Arbeitskreis fUr tibetische Und buddhistische Studien Universitat Wien.

Yotsuya Kodo. 1999. The Critique of Svatantra Reasoning by Candrakirti and Tsong-kha-pa: A Study of Philosophical Proof According to Two Prasangika Madhyamaka Traditions of India and Tibet. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag.

BOOK REVIEW

JOHN S. STRONG, Relics of the Buddha, Buddhisms: A Princeton University Press Series, Princeton University Press, Princeton and Oxford, 2004, ISBN 0-691-11764-0.

The principal themes of this important new book are, fIrst, the centrality of relics in Buddhism, and second, the function of relics as "expressions and extensions of the Buddha's biographic process" (p. 5; cf. p. 229) which "embody the biography of the Buddha" (p. 22). The first theme will be familiar and more or less uncontroversial to all Buddhist scholars, but it.is developed and applied here in ways that may challenge conventional assumptions about it. For example, in his discussion of the treatment of the Buddha's corpse as presented in the Mahaparinirvfu:ta-sutra and related texts, Strong asserts that "[r]elics are ... not just a by-product of the Buddha's cremation and funeral, they are the whole point of it" (p. 23). Bold as this claim may seem, it is amply justilled in the relevant chapter (ch. 4, "The Parinirvfu:ta of the Buddha"), where the author demonstrates that "[f]ar from being a postscript, these relics are, in fact, the governing motif that helps determine the whole shape and format of the Buddha's obsequies up to and including his cremation; the Buddha's funeral rites thus have less to do with the treatment of his body and the mourning of his passing than they have to do with the preparation of his relics" (pp. 98-99).

But it is the second of Strong's themes, the view of relics as "expressions and extensions" of the biography of the Buddha(s), that presents an especially original and productive way of looking at the phenomenon of the Buddhist relic cult. This theme determines the structural principle of the book, which, in the author's words, "may be seen as an unpacking and illustration of this thesis" (p. 229). The book is accordingly arranged in terms of the Buddha's (and the Buddhas') life, in the extended Buddhistic sense of the term. Thus the fIrst chapter concerns the "Relics of Previous Buddhas," while the next three, "Relics of the Bodhisattva," "Relics of the Still-Living Buddha: Hairs and Footprints," and "The Parinirvfu:ta of the Buddha," discuss relics connected with the last lifetime of the Buddha Sakyamuni. Chapters 5 through 7 then analyze the "extensions," by means of relics, of Siikyamuni's last life, with regard to "Asoka and the Buddha Relics," "Predestined Relics: The Extension of the Buddha's Life Story in Some Sri Lankan Traditions," and "Further Extensions of the Buddha's Life Story: Some Tooth Relic Traditions." Finally, in the eighth chapter, "Relics and Eschatology," Strong discusses the linkages, through the bowl and robe relics, between Siikyamuni and Maitreya, the Buddha who is to follow him, so that these relics constitute "bridge[s] between Buddhas" (p. 220). Thus the book comes full cir-


470 . RICHARD SALOMON

c1e, from the first chapter concerning the role of relics in linking Sakyamuni to his predecessors to the last where his relics are in tum shown to connect him to his successors.

In Strong's perspective, a Buddha's relics are functionally analogous to jatakas; just as the former extend his biography into the past, so the latter extend it into the future. Jatakas, as the previous lives of a Buddha, and relics, which serve in effect as his "future" lives, are actually "part of the same continuum" (p. 229). This view, in tum, reflects Strong's broader conceptions of Buddhist eschatology as a "dialectic of continuity and discontinuity, of permanence and impermanence" (p. 227; cf. p. 211). Relics, in his view, address the fundamental problem of the absence of the Buddha(s) through most of cosmic history; they provide a sort of ersatz presence, in an almost infInite variety of manners and degrees, for the mostly absent Buddha (e.g., pp. lSi, 234).

Strong develops this dynamic view of Buddhology and Buddhist eschatology in connection with, for example, the many footprint relics of the Buddha found throughout Buddhist lands, which paradoxically "serve to mark both his coming into and going from this world" (p. 86). For the Buddha's feet and footprints mark not only his presence, as in the prints left when he took his first steps after being born, but also his absence, "being traces of where he had once been" (ibid.). This analysis in symbolic terms is reinforced - typically of Strong's multifaceted presentation - by a philological argument, regarding the much-discussed term tathiigata. Noting that this can be interpreted either as tathii+agata "ThusCome-One" or as tatha+gata "Thus-Gone-One," he proposes to understand it as having, in effect, both meanings simultaneously, and therefore to translate it as "Thus-Come-and-Gone-One" (p. 230). In Strong's view, this double interpretation is valid and meaningful on several levels. First, it applies to the cosmic/historical sequence of the periodic appearance and disappearance of Buddhas; second, on an ontological level, it reflects the fundamental Buddhist principle of arising and cessation; and third, it relates to the life of an individual Buddha, which can be understood as "a series of 'comings and goings"'(ibid.).

Although some traditionalists may be uncomfortable with this sort of "fuzzy" interpretation, it is in fact completely justified within the logic of Strong's framework, where Buddhology and eschatology operate as a dynamic tension between presence and absence, coming and going, arising and decaying. Such multi-layered and multi-disciplinary interpretations of relics and relic practices are typical of Strong's approach to his subject. For example, we see this once again in connection with his discussion of the symbolism of footprint relics, this time concerning the legend of the footprints which the Buddha left on the bank of the Nammada River. Depending on the level of water in the river at any given time, these footprints were said to be sometimes accessible to human beings, and sometimes to the nagas. This duality has, in Strong's interpretation, three levels of significance. First, this arrangement has the benefIcial effect of motivating the nagas to promote good rains, which will raise the level of the river and give them

REVIEW 471

more access to the footprint relics. Second, the "intermediate position of these relics points to their liminal status," so that they "may be seen as meeting points between worlds" (p. 96). And fmally, "the periodic visibility and invisibility" of the Nammada River footprint relics "reinforces the notion that buddhas (;ome and go" (ibid.).

This last point brings us back to the one discussed previously, and such complex interlinkagesof argumentation made for a rich and rewarding, if somewhat challenging experience on the part of the reader. This is a book both that needs and deserves to be read with careful attention. Massive amounts of information are presented from diverse sources, and themes appear, re-appear, and link up periodically, so that the closer attention one pays, the more one gets out of this book. This remark, I hasten to add, is not intended in any way as a criticism of the organization of the book; on the contrary, the author has done an exemplary job of structuring his complex and abundant material. Perhaps all that the reader could ask for in this regard would be a bit more in the way of specific paged-linked crossreferences, instead of general reminders like "as we have seen " (e.g., p. 177). While troublesome for the author (and editor), such cross-references are appreciated by the careful reader.

This quibble aside, Strong's observations are always interesting and often no less than brilliant. To mention but one more example, from among a great many which could be cited, of symbolic interpretations of textual and legendary materials, Strong notes that the four methods by which, according to the Dathavatp.sa, a hostile king tried to destroy the Buddha's tooth relic, namely fire, crushing,

. water, and burial, correspond exactly to the four methods of disposing of dead bodies that were used in the Indian world. Thus the attempted destruction of the relic was meant as a symbolic funeral for it, but one which was of course "doomed to failure since the relic, by its very nature, has already emerged from a funeral" (p.193).

Here, as throughout, Strong's interpretation is creative and even imaginative, yet disciplined and well-documented. He has collected an enormous body of data, spanning the entire history of Buddhism from the beginning up to the contemporary world, primarily from Buddhist literature in Pali, Sanskrit and Chinese but also including epigraphic, archaeological, historical, and ethnographic material, all handled skillfully and capably. But, in view of the vastness of his subject, he has also wisely placed limits on the topics to be treated, for example focusing on bodily (sarfraka) relics and minimizing discussion of "commemorative" (uddesika) relics and relics of "use" (paribhoga; pp. 20-21). As a result of this combination of judicious selection and detailed scrutiny, Strong has succeeded in presenting his rich and complex subject matter in a way that will be illuminating for readers from any and all branches of Buddhist studies. Most impressively of all, he has produced a study which should appeal equally to those who approach Buddhism primarily from a textual/philological point of view and those who favor comparativist or "history of religions" methods. These two camps (here,

472 RICHARD SALOMON

for purposes of discussion, rather broadly cast) are all too often perceived, or even perceive themselves, as at odds, so that a spirit of rivalry or polemic sometimes prevails over one of cooperation. In this book, Strong has demonstrated how textualist and comparativist approaches at their best can be meaningfully combined, and the result is exemplary; he has given us the best of both worlds.

In closing, I would offer only one substantive suggestion for improvement: the inclusion of some - or many - illustrations would have further enriched this book, as the subject is one which is ideally suited to visual presentation. But considering what is there, this absence is a minor matter, and of the fmal verdict there can be no doubt: a very fine book indeed. '

Richard Salomon University of Washington

REPORT ON THE XIVTH CONFERENCE OF THE INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF BUDDHIST STUDIES

TOM I.F. TILLEMANS, GENERAL SECRETARY lABS

The XIVth Conference of the International Association of Buddhist Studies (IABS) took place at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, from the 29th of August to the 3rd of September 2005. The conference, with an attendance of more than three hundred participants, was very capably organized by a committee composed of D. Seyfort Ruegg (Honorary President), T. Skorupski (Chairman), U. Pagel, B. Quessel, M. Willis (Secretaries) and A. Leduc-Pagel (Administrative Assistant).

The conference began with the Plenary Session, during which the President of the IABS, Professor J. Takasaki, delivered his address, "Between Translation and Interpretation: Cases in the Chinese Tripitaka", examining some aspects of the translations of Paramartha (Zhen di). Subsequently Professors J. Silk and N. Aramaki delivered an address in memory of the late Professor Gadjin Nagao, a founding member of the IABS and one whose contribution to Buddhist Studies was particularly outstanding in its breadth and profundity.

As in previous IABS conferenceso ' the presentations by participants were grouped according to panels and sections. Thus there were fourteen panels, concentrating on specific topics, and seventeen sections in which

. papers were grouped according to general thematic affInities. A list of the topics of the panels and sections gives some idea of the current interests pursued in contemporary Buddhist Studies as well as the wide range of approaches.

Panels:

1. Ancient Champa to Modem Siam: Perspectives on Buddhist Art in Southeast Asia (Convener: P. Chirapravati)

2. Buddhism and Modernity in Korea (J.P. Park)


474 . TOM I.E TILLEMANS

3. Buddhist Art: Historical Evidence from Gandhant (K. Behrendt) 4. Buddhist Sanskrit Manuscripts from Central Asia and Afghanistan

(J.-D. Hartmann) 5. Disputed Authorities: Authenticity and Efficacy in Buddhist Scrip-

tures (L. Kuo and P. Skilling) 6. Dunhuang Tantric Buddhism (S. van Schaik and 1. Dalton) 7. Issues in the Art History of Early Indian Buddhism (R. DeCaroli) 8. Mahayana Siitra Literature (J. Silk) 9. Meanings of the Lotus Siitra for Contemporary Humanity (T.

Kubo) 10. Newar Buddhism (W. Tuladhar-Douglas) 11. Social and Intellectual History of Buddhism in Tibet (D. Maher) 12. Studies in Chinese Buddhist Historiography (E. Morrison) 13. Studies of Gandharan Buddhist Manuscripts (R. Salomon) 14. Vernacular Texts and Textual Communities in South and South

east Asia (J. McDaniel)

Sections:

1. Abhidharma and Schools of Buddhist Philosophy (Chairperson: R. Gethin)

2. Buddhism and Brahmanism (T. Proferes) 3. Buddhism in China (T. Barrett) 4. Buddhism in the Himalayan Area and Inner Asia (T. Skorupski) 5. Buddhism in Japan (L. Dolce) 6. Buddhism in Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia (K. Crosby) 7. Buddhism in the West (E. Harris) 8. Buddhist Arts (M. Willis) 9. Buddhist Hermeneutics, Language and Commentarial Techniques

(T. Tillemans) 10. Contemporary Developments in Buddhism (M. Bingenheimer) 11. Early Buddhism in India (A. Tilakaratne) 12. Logic and Epistemology in Buddhism (S. Katsura) 13. Manuscripts and Codicology (C. Scherrer-Schaub) 14. Prajfiaparamita and Madhyamaka (E. Steinkellner and D. Seyfort

Ruegg)

REPORT ON THE XJVTH CONFERENCE 475

15. Shin Buddhism (A. Saito) 16. Vajrayana Buddhism (B. Cuevas) 17. Vinaya Studies (R. Gombrich)

A brief comment. What was evident to the present observer was the importance of manuscript studies in this conference, with several panels and sections consecrated to Buddhist Sanskrit manuscripts from diverse sources. There were also striking new publications of edited materials, including the first installment of the long-awaited Sanskrit text of the PramiilJasamuccaya of Dignaga and its commentary by Iinendrabuddhi. It is clear that with the astounding richness of the material yet to be edited and analyzed, philological research will remain vital for the foreseeable future, providing that conscientious researchers are not hamstrung in their efforts. (See Appendix below for the relevant lABS resolution.) Not only are new materials on sl.itra texts becoming available, but also key sastras that once remained obscure, imprecise or even unapproachable without the Sanskrit are now becoming readable to competent modem interpreters. It is to hoped that with the philological advances, philosophical understanding will follow suit.

The conference ended with a General Assembly and a reception at the British Museum The organizers are to be thanked for their excellent work in arranging practical and scholarly matters, as well as a stimulating set of entertainment programs. The success of the XIVth Conference bodes well for Buddhist Studies.

476 . TOM J.F. Tll..LEMANS

Appendix

In the months preceding the XIVth conference, controversy arose about the propriety of scholarly work on material relevant to Buddhist Studies, especially when manuscripts were of uncertain provenance or of disputed ownership; indeed charges of impropriety had on occasion been formulated in the media and elsewhere in extreme terms that -arguably created more heat than light on what is, in fact, a complex set of ethical !ffid legal issues. Accordingly, the lABS, as the major professional association representing Buddhist Studies, felt the need to take a position on these matters, if future research was not to be negatively affected or even rendered impossible. The following resolution was adopted unanimously by the Board of the International Association of Buddhist Studies at their meeting on Aug. 29,2005:

Resolution concerning the scholarly study of manuscripts, inscriptions, etc. of uncertain provenance and/or title of ownership

"It is resolved that when manuscripts, inscriptions, art works or other documents and materials relevant to Buddhist Studies are available in public or private collections, scholars in Buddhist Studies should be free to undertake work on these materials for the purposes of research as well as publication and translation unless legally debarred from so doing in a specific case. "No ethical opprobrium or stigma should attach to a scholar who engages in such work. "It is understood that this scholarly work is conducted with due care and conscientiously. It is also understood that it is engaged in without prejudice to legal title of ownership to the said cultural materials, which may be subject to eventual determination in their respective jurisdictions by the competent judicial authorities and courts of law. "This resolution is therefore not intended to impinge on binding laws or international agreements and conventions concerning legal title to cultural material, its export and import, or transfer of its ownership."

This resolution is also to be found on the web page of the lABS (www.iabsinfo.org) and can be cited as the position and guidelines of the Association in future disputes on these matters.

IABS TREASURER FINANCIAL REPORT

JERO"ME DUCOR, Treasurer IABS

Cash Flow for the period from January 1st, 2003 to December 31, 2003 (in Swiss francs)

Beginning Balance 66743.18

Income

Dues, sub., back issues and donations 41878.65 Interests income 16.49 Exchange gain 20.94

Total income 41916.08

Expenses

Gross salaries -10560.00 Office supplies -98.10 Communication -260.00 Postage -9390.24 Printing, books -25753.35 Bank fees -1475.30 Exchange loss -5957.97

Total expenses -53494.96

Final Balance 55164.30

Cash Flow for the period from January 1st, 2004 to December 31, 2004 (in Swiss francs)

Beginning Balance

Income

Dues, sub., back issues and donations Interests income

Total income

55164.30

54476.05 6.00

54482.05


478

Expenses

Gross salaries Other staff expenses Communication Postage Printing, books Bank fees Exchange loss

Total expenses

Final Balance

Comments

JEROME DUCOR

-12325.75 -680.00 -240.00

-3241.79 -12152.60

-1341.61 -5903.30

-35885.05

73761.30

The total income in 2004 includes 11,161 USD that had previously been held in the lABS account in Japan. The accounts were prepared in detail by KPMG Fides, CH-1002 Lausanne, Switzerland: the published cash flow statements give a clear overview. The accounts as prepared by KPMG were approved by the Board of the International Association of Buddhist Studies at its meeting in London on Aug. 29, 2005. All amounts are given in Swiss francs.

Lausanne, September 11, 2006 Jerome Ducor Treasurer, International Association of Buddhist Studies

The International Association of Buddhist Studies and Emory University invite all IABS members to attend the

XVth Conference of the International Association of Buddhist Studies

June 23-29, 2008

Emory University Atlanta, Georgia (USA)

The conference planning committee is currently accepting panel proposals.

For more infonnation, please contact the planning committee chair:

Dr. Sara McClintock, Department of Religion Emory University, S214 Callaway Center

537 Kilgo Circle, Atlanta, GA, 30322, USA Email: [email protected]

Or visit the conference webpage at: www.religion.emory.edu/iabs2008

NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Anne M. BLACKBURN is Associate Professor of South Asia and Buddhist Studies in the Department of Asian Studies at Cornell University. She received her Ph.D. from the University of Chicago in 1996, and is the author of Buddhist Learning and Textual Practice in 18th-Century Lankan Monastic Culture (2001) as well as several articles on monastic texts and lineage in Sri Lanka. With Jeffrey Samuels, she edited Approaching the Dhamma: Buddhist Texts and Practices in South and Southeast Asia (2003).

Thomas BORCHERT is an Assistant Professor of Religion at the University of Vermont. He received his Ph.D. in History of Religions from the University of Chicago in 2006. In addition to monastic education, his research interests include Buddhism and politics in the current moment, disciplinary practices in monastic communities and conceptions of modernity in Theravilda Buddhism. An article on this last topic is forthcoming in the Journal of Asian Studies.

Georges DREYFUS was the first Westerner to receive the title of Geshe before obtaining his Ph.D. from the University of Virginia. He is currently Professor of Religion at Williams College. His publications include Recognizing Reality: Dharmakirti and his Tibetan 1nterpreters (1997) and The Sound of Two Hands Clapping: the Education of a Tibetan Buddhist Monk (2002), as well as many articles on various aspects of Buddhist philosophy and Tibetan culture.

Justin Thomas McDANIEL is Assitant Professor of Southeast Asian Buddhism at the University of California at Riverside. He received his Ph.D. in Sanskrit and Indian Studies from Harvard University in 2003. He recently completed a book on the history of monastic education in Laos and Thailand, and has published several articles on textual anthropology, funerary practices, protective magic, Buddhist vernacular romance literature, homiletics, and PilIi grammar.


Jeffrey SAMUELS is Assistant Professor in the Department of Philosophy and Religion at Western Kentucky University. He received his Ph.D. from the University of Virginia in 2002. In addition to co-editing Approaching the Dhamma: Buddhist Texts and Practices in South and Southeast Asia with Anne M. Blackburn (2003), he has published a number of articles on early Buddhism, Sri Lankan monastic culture, and photoelicitation as a field method. He is currently completing a monograph for publication on monastic recruitment and temple building in contemporary Sri Lanka.

W. Blythe MILLER is a doctoral candidate at Harvard University. She received an M.A. from the University of Virginia and is the translator of Essence of Ambrosia: A Guide to Buddhist Contemplations (LTWA, 2005) by Taranatha. Her dissertation work concerns aesthetic styles in Tibetan biography, and the early Drukpa Kagyu lineage.

Dan ARNOLD is Assistant Professor. of Philosophy of Religion at the University of Chicago Divinity School. His first book Buddhists, Brahmins, and Belief" Epistemology in South Asian Philosophy of Religion (2005) won an American Academy of Religion Award for Excellence in the Study of Religion. He is currently studying issues involving the intersection of Buddhist philosophy of mind, epistemology, and the category of intentionality.

Richard SALOMON is Professor of Asian Languages (Sanskrit) at the UlJ!versity of Washington and director of the British Library / University of Washington Early Buddhist Manuscripts Project. He is author of four books and numerous articles on Sanskrit and Prakrit languages and literature, the languages and literature of Indian Buddhism, Indian epigraphy and history, and Gandharan manuscripts and inscriptions.

The International Association of Buddhist Studies

Jikido Takasaki President

Ernst Steinkellner Vice-President

Tom Tillemans General Secretary

Jerome Ducor Treasurer

Regional Representatives:

Janet Gyatso (Cambridge, ]\IIA, USA) Kazunobu Matsuda (Kyoto)

David Seyfort Ruegg (London) Peter Skilling (Bangkok)

Directors at large:

Nalini Balbir (Paris), Colette Caillat (Paris), Georges Dreyfus (Williamstown, MA), Robert M. Gimello (Cambridge, MA),

Oskar von Hiniiber (Freiburg), ShOryii Katsura (Hiroshima), Liying Kuo (Paris), Richard Salomon (Seattle), Cristina Scherrer-Schaub (Lausanne),

Lambert Schmithausen (Hamburg)

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Documents

JIABS 28-2