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Umh!, Whats this? |
Forum January 2001
History and the enterprise of
knowledge
The saffron agenda of confounding mythology with history also undermines
India’s magnificently multi-religious and heterodox history
By Amartya Sen
In an often–quoted remark, Henry
Ford, the great captain of indus try, said, “History is more or less bunk.”
As a general statement about history, this is perhaps not an assessment
of compelling delicacy. And yet Henry Ford would have been right to
think, if that is what he meant, that history could easily become “bunk”
through motivated manipulation.
This is especially so if the writing
of history is manoeuvred to suit a slanted agenda in contemporary politics. There
are organised attempts in our country, at this time, to do just that, with
arbitrary augmentation of a narrowly sectarian view of India’s past, along
with undermining its magnificently multi-religious and heterodox history. Among
other distortions, there is also a systematic confounding here of mythology
with history.
An extraordinary example of this
has been the interpretation of the Ramayana, not as a great epic, but as
documentary history, which can be invoked to establish property rights
over places and sites possessed and owned by others. (1) The Ramayana,
which Rabindranath Tagore had seen as a wonderful legend (“the story of
the Ramayana” is to be interpreted, as Tagore put it, not as “a matter
of historical fact” but “in the plane of ideas”) and in fact as a marvellous
parable of “reconciliation,” (2) is now made into a legally authentic account
that gives some members of one community an alleged entitlement to particular
sites and land, amounting to a license to tear down the religious places
of other communities.
Thomas de Quincey has an interesting
essay called “Murder Considered as One of the Fine Arts.” Rewriting
of history for bellicose use can also, presumably, be a very fine art.
I note the contemporary confounding of historical studies in India as the
starting point of this lecture, even though I shall not be directly concerned
with addressing these distortions: there are many superb historians in
India to give these misconstructions their definitive due.
Instead, I shall be concerned with
outlining some methodological issues that relate to the subject of truth
and falsehood in general history. I will also try to develop and
defend a view of history as “an enterprise of knowledge.” There will
be occasional references to contemporary debates (because I shall illustrate
the general points with examples from Indian history), but the overall
focus will be on more general themes.
There will be occasions, in this
context, to take a fresh look at India’s persistent heterodoxy, which includes
not only its tendency towards multi–religious and multi–cultural coexistence
(a point emphasised in Rabindranath Tagore’s “vision of India’s history”),
but also its relevance for the development of science and mathematics in
India. For history is not only an enterprise of knowledge in itself,
it cannot but have a special involvement with the history of other enterprises
of knowledge. The view of history as an enterprise of knowledge is, of
course, very old–fashioned: I am not trying to innovate anything what-soever. However,
this and related epistemic approaches to history have taken some hard knocks
over the last few decades. These have come not so much from sectarian
bigots (who have barely addressed issues of method), but in the hands of
sophisticated methodologists who are not only sceptical of the alleged
virtues of modernity and objectivity (often for understandable reasons),
but have ended up being deeply suspicious also of the idea of “truth” or
“falsehood” in history.
They have been keen, in particular,
to emphasise the relativity of perspectives and the ubiquity of different
points of view. Perspectives and points of view, I would argue, are indeed
important, not just in history, but in every enterprise of knowledge. This
is partly because our observations are inescapably “positional.” Distant
objects, for example, cannot but look smaller, and yet it is the job of
analysis and scrutiny to place the different positional views in their
appropriate perspectives to arrive at an integrated and coherent picture.
The elementary recognition of the “positionality” of observations and perceptions
does not do away with ideas of truth and falsehood, nor with the need to
exercise reasoned judgement faced with conflicting evidence and clashing
perspectives. I shall not here reiterate the methodological arguments
I have presented elsewhere, but will discuss their relevance to the interpretation
of Indian history. (3).
Indeed, describing the past is like
all other reflective judgements, which have to take note of the demands
of veracity and the discipline of knowledge. (4). The discipline
includes the study of knowledge formation, including the history of science
(and the constructive influences that are important in the cultivation
of science) and also the history of histories (where differences in perspective
call for disciplined scrutiny and are of importance themselves as objects
of study).
I shall be concerned with each.
I should make one more motivational remark. I address this talk primarily
to non-historians, like myself, who take an interest in history. I
am aware that no self–respecting historian will peacefully listen to an
economist trying to tell them what their discipline is like. But history
is not just for historians. It affects the lives of the public at
large.
We non–historians do not have to
establish our entitlement to talk about history. Rather, a good point of
departure is to ask: why is history so often invoked in popular discussions?
Also, what can the general public get from history? Why, we must also
ask, is history such a battleground?
Knowledge and Its Use
Let me begin by discussing some
distinct motivations that influence the public’s interest in history.
(1) Epistemic interest: The fact
that we tend to have, for one reason or another, some interest in knowing
more about what happened in the past is such a simple thought that it is
somewhat embarrassing to mention this at a learned gathering. But,
surely, catering to our curiosity about the past must count among the reasons
for trying to learn something about historical events. An ulterior
motive is not essential for taking an interest in history (even though
ulterior reasons may also exist often enough). The simplicity of the idea
of historical curiosity is, however, to some extent deceptive, because
the reasons for our curiosity about the past can be very diverse and sometimes
quite complex. The reason can be something very practical (such as
learning from a past mistake), or engagingly illuminating (such as knowing
about the lives of common people in a certain period in history), or largely
recreational (such as investigating the chronology and history of India’s
multiplicity of calendars). (5).
Also, the historical
questions asked need not be straightforward, and may even be highly speculative.
(6). Whether or not it is easy to satisfy our curiosity (it may not
always be possible to settle a debate regarding what actually happened),
truth has an obvious enough role in exercises of this kind. In fact,
curiosity is a demand for truth on a particular subject.
(2) Practical reason: Historical
connections are often invoked in the context of contemporary politics and
policies. Indeed, present-day attitudes in politics and society are
often strongly influenced by the reading — or misreading — of the history
of past events. For example, sectarian tensions build frequently on
grievances (spontaneous or cultivated) linked to past deeds (real or imagined)
of one group against another.
This is well illustrated, for example,
by the recent massacres in Rwanda or former Yugoslavia, where history —
or imagined history — were often invoked, concerning alleged past records
of hostilities between Hutus and Tutsies, or between Serbs and Albanians,
respectively. Since these uses of history are aimed primarily at
contemporary acts and strategies, the counteracting arguments which too
invoke history, though in the opposite direction, also end up being inescapably
linked to current affairs.
Given the dialectical context, we
may be forced to take an interest in historical disputations on battlegrounds
that have been chosen by others — not ourselves. For example, in defending
the role of secularism in contemporary India, it is not in any way essential
to make any claim whatsoever about how India’s Mughal rulers behaved whether
they were sectarian or assimilative, whether they were oppressive or tolerant.
Yet in the political discussions
that have accompanied the activist incursions of communal politics in contemporary
India (well illustrated, for example, by the rhetoric that accompanied
the demolition of the Babri Masjid), a heavily carpentered characterisation
of the Mughal rule as anti–Hindu was repeatedly invoked.
Since this characterisation was
to a great extent spurious and based on arbitrary selection, to leave that
point unaddressed would have, in the context of the on going debate, amounted
to a negligence in practical reason, and not just an epistemic abstinence.
Even the plausibility or otherwise of the historical argument that some
of the juridical roots of Indian secularism can be traced to Mughal jurisprudence
(a thesis I have tried to present in my paper, “Reach of Reason: East and
West”), even though a matter of pure history, ends up inescapably as having
some relevance for contemporary politics (even though that was not a claim
I made). (7).
The enterprise of knowledge links
in this case with the use of that knowledge. However, this does not,
in any way, reduce the relevance of truth in seeking knowledge. The
fact that knowledge has its use does not, obviously, make the enterprise
of acquiring knowledge in any way redundant. In fact, quite the contrary.
(3). Identity scrutiny: Underlying
the political debates, there is often enough a deeper issue related to
the way we construct and characterise our own identities, in which too
historical knowledge — or alleged knowledge — can play an important part.
Our sense of identity is strongly influenced by our under standing of our
past. We do not, of course, have a personal past prior to our birth,
but our self–perceptions are associated with the shared history of the
members of a particular group to which we think we “belong” and with which
we “identify.” Our allegiances draw on the evocation of histories
of our identity groups.
A scrutiny of this use of history
cannot be independent of the philosophical question as to whether our identities
are primarily matters of “discovery” (as many “commu-nitarian” thinkers
claim), (8) or whether they are to a significant extent matters of selection
and choice (of course, within given constraints — as indeed all choices
inescapably are). (9).
Arguments that rely on the assumption
of the unique centrality of one’s community–based identity survive by privileging
— typically implicitly — that identity over other identities (which may
be connected with, say, class, or gender, or language, or political commitments,
or cultural influences). In consequence, they restrict the domain
of one’s alleged “historical roots” in a truly dramatic way. Thus,
the increasing search for a Hindu view of Indian history not only has problems
with epistemic veracity (an issue I discussed earlier), but also involves
the philosophical problem of categorical oversimplification.
It would, for example, have problems
in coming to terms with, say, Rabindranath Tagore’s description of his
own background as “a confluence of three cultures, Hindu, Mohammedan and
British.”(10). No less importantly, it cannot but be in some tension
with the sense of pride that an Indian may choose to have, irrespective
of his or her own religious background, at the historical achievements
of, say, Ashoka or Akbar, or Kalidasa or Kabir, or Aryabhata or Bhaskara.
To deny the role of reasoned choice,
which can draw on the knowledge of the past, can be a very serious loss
indeed. Even those who want to identify with India’s historical achievements
and perhaps take some pride in them (a legitimate enough concern) must
also examine critically what to take pride in, since it is easy to be misled
into a narrow alley through incitements to ignore India’s capacious heterodoxy
in favour of a constricted sectarian identity.
While discovery and choice compete
as the basis of identity, knowledge and choice are essentially complementary
to each other. Engagement with issues of identity enriches the
enterprise of knowledge and extends its reach.
Science and Intellectual Heterodoxy
Let me now move to a more active
view of the enterprise of knowledge, and turn to the history of science,
which is among the historical subjects of study. As has already been
argued, history is not only an enterprise of knowledge, its subject matter
includes other enterprises of knowledge. The issue of heterodoxy,
to which reference was made earlier, is particularly important here. Indeed,
I would argue that there is a general connection between intellectual heterodoxy
and the pursuit of science, and that this connection deserves more attention
than it tends to get.
Heterodoxy is important for scientific
advance because new ideas and discoveries have to emerge initially as heterodox
views, at variance with established understanding. One need reflect
only on the history of the scientific contributions of, say, Galileo or
Newton or Darwin, to see the role of heterodoxy in the process. The
history of science is integrally linked with heterodoxy.
If this interpretation is correct,
then the roots of the flowering of Indian science and mathematics that
occurred in and around the Gupta period (beginning particularly with Aryabhata
and Varahamihira) can be intellectually associated with persistent expressions
of heterodoxies which pre–existed these contributions. In fact, Sanskrit
and Pali have a larger literature in defence of atheism, agnosticism and
theological scepticism than exists in any other classical language.
The origins of mathematical and
scientific developments in the Gupta period are often traced to earlier
works in mathematics and science in India, and this is indeed worth investigating,
despite the historical mess that has been created recently by the ill–founded
championing of the so–called “Vedic mathematics” and “Vedic sciences,”
based on very little evidence. What has, I would argue, more claim
to attention as a precursor of scientific advances in the Gupta period
is the tradition of scepticism that can be found in pre-Gupta India — going
back to at least the sixth century B.C. — particularly in matters of religion
and epistemic orthodoxy.
Indeed, the openness of approach
that allowed Indian mathematicians and scientists to learn about the state
of these professions in Babylon, Greece and Rome, which are plentifully
cited in early Indian astronomy (particularly in the Siddhantas), can also
be seen as a part of this inclination towards heterodoxy.
Observation, Experience and
Scientific Methods
Indeed, the development of Indian
sciences has clear methodological connections with the general epistemological
doubts expressed by sceptical schools of thought that developed at an earlier
period. This included the insistence on relying only on observational
evidence (with scepticism of unobserved variables), for example in the
Lokayata and Charvaka writings, not to mention Gautama Buddha’s powerfully
articulated agnosticism and his persistent questioning of received beliefs.
The untimely death of professor
Bimal Matilal has robbed us of the chance of benefiting from his extensive
programme of systematic investigation of the history of Indian epistemology,
but his already published works bring out the reach of unorthodox early
writings on epistemology (by both Buddhist and Hindu writers) in the period
that can be linked to the flowering of Indian science and mathematics in
the Gupta era. (11).
Similarly, the expression of hereticism
and heterodoxy patiently – if somewhat grudgingly — recorded even in the
Ramayana (for example, in the form of Javali’s advice to Rama to defy his
father’s odd promise) presents methodological reasons to be sceptical of
the orthodox position in this field. (12).
Indeed, in A Vision of India’s History,
Rabindranath Tagore also notes the oddity of the central story of Rama’s
pious acceptance of banishment based on “the absurd reason... about the
weak old king [Rama’s father] yielding to a favourite wife, who took advantage
of a vague promise which could fit itself to any demand of hers, however
preposterous.” Tagore takes it as evidence of “the later degeneracy
of mind,” when “some casual words uttered in a moment of infatuation could
be deemed more sacred than the truth which is based upon justice and perfect
knowledge.”(13).
In fact, Javali’s disputation goes
deeply into scientific methodology and the process of acquiring of knowledge:
There is no after–world, nor any religious practice for attaining that.
Follow what is within your experience and do not trouble yourself with
what lies beyond the province of human experience. (14).
As it happens, the insistence that
we rely only on observation and experience is indeed a central issue in
the departures in astronomy — initiated by Aryabhata and others — from
established theological cosmology.
The departures presented in his
book Aryabhatiya, completed in 421 Saka or 499 A.D., which came to be discussed
extensively by mathematicians and astronomers who followed Aryabhata (particularly
Varahamihira, Brahmagupta and Bhaskara, and were also discussed in their
Arabic translations), included, among others: (1) Aryabhata’s advocacy
of the diurnal motion of the earth (rather than the apparent rotation of
the sun around it), (2) a corresponding theory of gravity to explain why
objects are not thrown out as the earth churns, (3) recognition of the
parametric variability of the concept of “up” and “down” depending on where
one is located on the globe, and (4) explanation of lunar and solar eclipses
in terms respectively of the earth’s shadow on the moon and the moon’s
obscuring of the sun.
Observational arguments, based on
what Javali calls “the province of human experience,” are central to the
departures initiated by Aryabhata in these and related fields (more on
this presently). In the enterprise of knowledge involving the natural
sciences, the intellectual connections between scepticism, heterodoxy and
observational insistence, on the one hand, and manifest scientific advances,
on the other, require much further exploration and scrutiny than they seem
to have received so far.
History of Histories and
Observational Perspectives
The observational issue is important
also for the particular subject of history of histories, or metahistories
(as we may call them). Given the importance of perspectives in historical
writings, history of histories can tell us a great deal not only about
the subject of those writings, but also about their authors and the traditions
and perspectives they reflect.
For example, James Mill’s The History
of British India, published in 1817, tells us probably as much about imperial
Britain as about India. This three–volume history, written by Mill
without visiting India (Mill seemed to think that this non–visit made his
history more objective), played a major role in introducing the British
governors of India (such as the influential Macaulay) to a particular characterisation
of the country.
There is indeed much to learn from
Mill’s history — not just about India, but more, in fact, about the perspective
from which this history was written. This is an illustration of the
general point that the presence of positionality and observational perspective
need not weaken the enterprise of knowledge, and may in fact help to extend
its reach. (15).
James Mill disputed and rejected
practically every claim ever made on behalf of Indian culture and intellectual
traditions, but paid particular attention to dismissing Indian scientific
works. Mill rebuked early British administrators (particularly, Sir
William Jones) for having taken the natives “to be a people of high civilisation,
while they have in reality made but a few of the earliest steps in the
progress to civilisation.”(16).
Indeed, since colonialism need not
be especially biased against any particular colony compared with any other
subjugated community, Mill had no great difficulty in coming to the conclusion
that the Indian civilisation was at par with other inferior ones known
to Mill: “very nearly the same with that of the Chinese, the Persians,
and the Arabians,” and also the other “subordinate nations, the Japanese,
Cochin–Chinese, Siamese, Burmans, and even Malays and Tibetans” (p. 248).
Mill was particularly dismissive
of the alleged scientific and mathematical works in India. He denied
the generally accepted belief that the decimal system (with place values
and the placed use of zero) had emerged in India, and refused to accept
that Aryabhata and his followers could have had anything interesting to
say on the diurnal motion of the earth and the principles of gravitation.
Writing his own history of histories,
Mill chastised Sir William Jones for believing in these “stories,” and
concluded that it was “extremely natural that Sir William Jones, whose
pundits had become acquainted with the ideas of European philosophers respecting
the system of the universe, should hear from them that those ideas were
contained in their own books.”(17).
A Contrast of Perspectives
It is, in fact, interesting to compare
Mill’s History with another history of India, called Ta’rikh al–hind (written
in Arabic eight hundred years earlier, in the 11th century) by the Iranian
mathematician Alberuni.(18).
Alberuni, who was born in Central
Asia in 973 AD, and mastered Sanskrit after coming to India, studied Indian
texts on mathematics, natural sciences, literature, philosophy, and religion. Alberuni
writes clearly on the invention of the decimal system in India (as do other
Arab authors) and also about Aryabhata’s theories on earth’s rotation,
gravitation, and related subjects.
These writings contrast sharply
with Mill’s history from a dominant colonial perspective, well established
by the beginning of the nineteenth century. The interest in Mill’s
dismissive history in imperial Britain (Macaulay described Mill’s History
of British India to be “on the whole the greatest historical work which
has appeared in our language since that of Gibbon” (19) contrasts with
extensive constructive interest in these Indian works among Islamic mathematicians
and scientists in Iran and in the Arab world.
In fact, Brahmagupta’s pioneering
Sanskrit treatise on astronomy had been first translated into Arabic in
the 8th century by Muhammad ibn Ibrahim al–Fazari, and again by Alberuni
three hundred years later in the eleventh century (since Alberuni had certain
criticisms of the previous translation). Several Indian works on medicine,
science and philosophy had Arabic rendering by the 9th century, and so
on. It was through the Arabs that the Indian decimal system and numerals
reached Europe, as did Indian writings in mathematics, science and literature,
in general. Indeed, history of histories, particularly about science, can
tell us a great deal about the nature of political and social relations
between the different countries (such as Iran and Gupta India, on the one
hand, Britain and colonial India, on the other).
As it happens, Alberuni’s history
also provides interesting illumination on scientific discussions within
India, and particularly on the constructive role of heterodoxy in this
context. Even though Alberuni himself tended to reject Aryabhata’s
theory regarding the diurnal motion of the earth, he describes patiently
the Indian arguments in defence of the plausibility of Aryabhata’s theory,
including the related theory of gravity.
Conservatism, Courage
and Science
It is, in this context, particularly
interesting to examine Alberuni’s discussion of Brahmagupta’s conservative
rejection of the exciting departures proposed by Aryabhata and his followers
on the subject of lunar and solar eclipses. Alberuni quotes Brahmagupta’s
criticism of Aryabhata and his followers, in defence of the orthodox religious
theory, involving Rahu and the so-called “head” that is supposed to devour
the sun and the moon, and finds it clearly unpersuasive and reactionary. He
quotes Brahma-gupta’s supplication to religious orthodoxy, in Brahmasiddhanta:
Some people think that the eclipse is not caused by the Head. This,
however, is a foolish idea, for it is he in fact who eclipses, and the
generality of the inhabitants of the world say that it is the Head that
eclipses. The Veda, which is the word of God from the mouth of Brahman,
says that the Head eclipses... On the contrary. Varahamihira, Shrishena,
Aryabhata and Vishnuchandra maintain that the eclipse is not caused by
the Head, but by the moon and the shadow of the earth, in direct opposition
to all (to the generality of men), and from the enmity against the just–mentioned
dogma. (20).
Alberuni, who is quite excited about
Aryabhata’s scientific theories of eclipses, then accuses Brahmagupta (a
great mathematician himself) for lacking the moral courage of Aryabhata
in dissenting from the established orthodoxy. He points out that,
in practice, Brahmagupta too follows Aryabhata’s methods in predicting
the eclipses, but this does not prevent Brahmagupta from sharply criticising
— from an essentially theological perspective — Aryabhata and his followers
for being heretical and heterodox. Alberuni puts it thus: ... we
shall not argue with him [Brahmagupta], but only whisper into his ear:
...Why do you, after having spoken such [harsh] words [against Aryabhata
and his followers], then begin to calculate the diameter of the moon in
order to explain the eclipsing of the sun, and the diameter of the shadow
of the earth in order to explain its eclipsing the moon? Why do you
compute both eclipses in agreement with the theory of those heretics, and
not according to the views of those with whom you think it is proper to
agree? (21).
The connection between heterodoxy
and scientific advance is indeed close, and big departures in science require
methodological independence as well as analytical and constructive skill. Even
though Aryabhata, Varahamihira and Brahmagupta were all dead for many hundred
years before Alberuni was writing on their controversies and their implications,
nevertheless Alberuni’s carefully critical scientific history helps to
bring out the main issues involved, and in particular the need for heterodoxy
as well as moral courage in pursuit of science.
A Concluding Remark
To conclude, I have tried to illustrate
the different ways in which history has relevance for non-historians —
indeed the general public. First, there are diverse grounds for the public’s
involvement with history, which include (1) the apparently simple attractions
of epistemic interest, (2) the contentious correlates of practical reason,
and (3) the scrutiny of identity–based thinking. All of them — directly
or indirectly — involve and draw on the enterprise of knowledge.
Second, history is not only itself
an enterprise of knowledge, its domain of study incorporates all other
enterprises of knowledge, including the history of science. In this
context, it is easy to see the role of heterodoxy and methodological independence
in scientific advance. The intellectual connections between heterodoxy
(especially theological scepticism) and scientific pursuits (especially
big scientific departures) deserve more attention in the history of sciences
in India.
Third, metahistories — or histories
of histories — also bring out the relevance of an appropriate climate for
the enterprise of knowledge. The pursuit of knowledge not only requires
an open mind (the contrast between Alberuni’s scientific interest and Mill’s
colonial predispositions radically differentiate their treatments of the
same subject matter), it also requires an inclination to accept heterodoxy
and the courage to stand up against orthodoxy (Alberuni’s critique of Brahmagupta’s
criticism of Aryabhata relates to this issue). The plurality of perspectives
extends the domain of the enterprise of knowledge rather than undermining
the possibility of that enterprise. (22).
Since the rewriting of Indian history
from the slanted perspective of sectarian orthodoxy not only undermines
historical objectivity, but also militates against the spirit of scientific
scepticism and intellectual heterodoxy, it is important to emphasise the
centrality of scepticism and heterodoxy in the pursuit of scientific knowledge. The
incursion of sectarian orthodoxy in Indian history involves two distinct
problems, to wit, (1) narrow sectarianism, and (2) unreasoned orthodoxy.
The enterprise of knowledge is threatened by both.
(The writer, a Nobel prize winner
is Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, and Lamont University Professor
Emeritus, Harvard University. The above paper was presented by the writer
at the Indian History Congress in Calcutta)
ENDNOTES
1. The confusing story of a recent
statement by a Director of the Indian Council of Historical Research (ICHR)
announcing exact knowledge where Rama, the avatar, was born (not surprisingly
precisely where the Babri Masjid stood — from which the property rights
for building a temple exactly there is meant to follow!), combined with
the assertion that the Masjid itself had no religious significance (followed
by an embarrassed dissociation of the ICHR itself from these remarkable
pronouncements), illustrates the confounding of myth and history.
2. Rabindranath Tagore, A Vision
of India’s History (Calcutta: Visva–Bharati, 1951), p. 10; this essay was
first published in Visva-Bharati Quarterly, 1923.
3. See “Positional Objectivity,”
Philosophy and Public Affairs, 1993. I have also illustrated the
methodological issues involved in the context of Indian history in On Interpreting
India’s Past (Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1996), also included in Sugata
Bose and Ayesha Jalal, eds., Nationalism, Democracy and Development: Reappraising
South Asian State and Politics (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1996).
4. I have discussed the demands
of descriptive discipline in “Accounts, Actions and Values: Objectivity
of Social Science,” in C. Lloyd, ed., Social Theory and Political Practice
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983).
5. I have tried to argue elsewhere
that the history of Indian calendars also provides some insights on the
lives of the people and particularly on the state of science and mathematics
at different times, and can even illuminate the political ideals that may
be indirectly reflected in devising new calendars. The last is well
illustrated, for example, by Emperor Akbar’s initiation of a synthetic
solar calendar in the form of Tarikh–ilahi, in 1584, and its continuing
influence on the Bengali san (on these issues, see my “India through Its
Calendars,” The Little Magazine, 1, 1, May 2000).
6. A good example of an interesting
but rather bold speculation is Rabindranath Tagore’s conjecture about a
story in the epics that “the mythical version of King Janamejaya’s ruthless
serpent sacrifice” may quite possibly stand for an actual historical event
involving an “attempted extermination of the entire Naga race” by the dominant
powers in ancient India (Tagore, A Vision of India’s History, p. 9).
7. Amartya Sen, “Reach of Rea
son: East and West,” The New York
Review of Books, July 20, 2000.
8. See Michael Sandel, Liberalism
and the Limits of Justice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2nd edition,
1998), for a fine presentation of the “discovery” view of identity, and
in particular of the thesis (among others) that “community describes not
just what they have as fellow citizens but also what they are, not
a relationship they choose (as in a voluntary association) but an attachment
they discover, not merely an attribute but a constituent of their identity”
(pp. 150–2).
9. I have discussed the role of
choice in the selection of identities and in the determination of priorities
in my Romanes Lecture at Oxford, Reason before Identity (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1999), and in my Annual British Academy Lecture (to be
published by the British Academy): for a shorter version, see “Other People,”
The New Republic, September 25, 2000.
10. See Rabindranath Tagore, The
Religion of Man (London: Unwin, 1931, 2nd edition, 1961), p. 105.
11. See particularly Bimal Matilal,
Perceptions (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1986).
12. Even though I shall not discuss
in this paper the role and reach of Arjuna’s disagreements with Krishna’s
high deontology in the Mahabharata, and in particular in the Bhagavad–Geeta,
that too is philosophically an important departure; on this see my “Consequential
Evaluation and Practical Reason,” The Journal of Philosophy, 97 (September
2000).
13. Tagore, A Vision of India’s
History, p. 22.
14. The translation is taken from
Makhanlal Sen, Valmiki Ramayana (Calcutta: Rupa, 1989), pp. 174–5.
15. On this general subject, see
my “Positional Objectivity” (1993), and also “Accounts, Actions and Values:
Objectivity of Social Science” (1983).
16. James Mill, The History of British
India (London, 1817; republished, Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1975), pp. 225–6.
17. Mill, The History of British
India, pp. 223–4.
18. For an English translation,
see Alberuni’s India, translated by EC Sachau, edited by AT Embree (New
York: Norton, 1971).
19. Quoted in John Clive’s introduction
to Mill, The History of British India (republished, 1975), p. viii.
20. Alberuni’s India, pp. 110-1.
21. Alberuni’s India, p. 111.
22. On this see also my “Accounts,
Actions and Values: Objectivity of Social Science” (1983) and “Positional
Objectivity” (1993). |