Chapter 1
The Self
It is more than a hundred years since Nietzsche’s ‘madman’ ran through the streets of Europe. And while the flames of atheism and doubt may well have been fuelled by science and scepticism alike, the ‘old deep trust’ (G.S. 343) in a personal God and for a necessary Absolute being is still very much alive. My interest here does not concern the ‘gruesome shadows’ (108) per se, but will necessarily involve the re-evaluation of their role. ‘How much must collapse’ asked Nietzsche; what will happen to ‘our entire European morality’ (343)? Barring Communism, that monstrous failure, has the European really been capable of an answer? Meanwhile, the American still calls on the Good Lord to protect their ‘crusades’. Perhaps then, we should leave the West and travel east. Could it be that there are moral lessons to be learnt from somewhere as distant as 8th-century India?
From an Indian perspective, we do not have to consider God ‘dead’; an agnostic stance will suffice. God may sing and dance in the shadows if he likes. The universe is here about us as a brute fact, a place of suffering. That is why Buddhism in India has often been labelled ‘agnosticism’ rather than ‘atheism’. But if the Buddhist understanding of the world has been essentially ‘man-centred’, then my argument here is that the same may be said of the Hindu, Śaṅkara. This is especially true when we consider his views on liberation. In other words, Śaṅkara’s central concern was the ‘current bondage of the human condition’ (Suthren Hirst 2005: 94). Liberation from this world is a human task, a gnoseological project.1 Even Otto (1957: 189), the great defender of a theistic Śaṅkara, felt compelled to admit that ‘Śaṅkara is so deeply interested in the subjective pole of salvation, that the other is scarcely noticed by him’. Śaṅkara is hardly interested in looking good in God’s eyes. That is, when it comes to the ultimate means of liberation, God (Īśvara) has but little importance. Śaṅkara’s interest lies more in a cognitive shift. As he puts it, the ‘non-dual realization is a mere mental modification’ (advaita jñānaṃ manovṛtti mātram) (Ch.U.Bh., intro). This discovery that one is in fact brahman-consciousness is followed by immediate liberation from suffering (jīvan-mukti), and the salvation of others who continue to suffer within transmigratory existence.
Suffering is thus the consequence of a basic misunderstanding. Hence, no devil, but ignorance (avidyā) shows itself to be the great enemy, and even God is subject to it (B.S.Bh. II.i.14). This ignorance, or not-knowing (a-jñāna), according to Śaṅkara, is the ‘root’ (mūla) of transmigratory existence (saṃsāra) (U.S. Metric, 1.4–5) and stems from the clinging to the transitory world of name and form (nāma-rūpa) (B.S.Bh. II.i.14). For both Śaṅkara and Śāntideva, this ignorance shows itself as egoism (ahaṃkāra) and culminates in the clinging to a self as body, or as individuated soul (jīva). According to Śāntideva, all misfortunes in the world are due to clinging to such a false self (BCA. 8.134). Similarly, Śaṅkara sees the cause of suffering as ignorance of the nature of self. If one could only see that there were no difference between your self and the Self of brahman, one would be released from suffering. Hence, ‘That one is other [than brahman] is due only to the [error of] accepting the doctrine of difference’ (U.S. Prose, 1.30).
The gnoseological response then becomes threefold:
1. create doubt in the deep-seated belief in our ultimate individuality;
2. question the origin and validity of our private cognitions; and
3. re-evaluate our embodied existence.
For Śāntideva, the Mādhyamika Buddhist, there is no all-powerful God with his hands upon the world, and the Buddha remains as example and guide, not as Lord Creator. And even the Buddha is ultimately to be viewed as ‘illusion-like’, for ‘Merit comes from a Conqueror [Buddha], who is like an illusion, as if he was truly existent’ (BCA. 9.9a). But far from being a nihilistic thesis, Śāntideva adds perfect wisdom and compassion to Nietzsche’s infinite nothing. For Śaṅkara, the Advaitin, the personal God (Īśvara) is likewise to be seen as part of the illusion (māyā) from which we must awaken, a construct, which along with individuation, awaits dissolution into universal consciousness. A popular Advaita text states, when ignorance and illusion is overcome, ‘there is neither God nor soul’ (V.C. 244).2 And as for the attributeless (nirguṇa) brahman, it is so bare a concept, it can ‘hardly be the Creator God’ (Matilal 2004: 40). Again, this is no nihilistic thesis, for ethics remains paramount. As Black (2008: 3) suggests, the ‘Upanishadic notion of the self is not merely a philosophical insight, but a way of being in the world’. In place of an infinite nothing, Śaṅkara speaks of ‘infinite’ (anantaṃ) ‘knowledge and truth’ (satyaṃ jñānam) (T.U.Bh. II.i.1). More in line with Nietzsche, both Śāntideva and Śaṅkara seek liberation in terms of gnoseological illumination, and all three are intent on producing their ‘free-spirits’.
So the Western reader will begin to see the virtue in this debate if and when they consider the problem that arises when the certainty of a personal I-Thou relationship with God is seriously doubted. More specifically, as we become agnostic about God, the notion of a personal, God-given, ‘soul’ becomes a redundant concept. And consequently, we lose the line of reference on which to pin our certainty about the locus of our individual ‘self’. This lack of ground, coupled with a lack of historical anchor, lends itself to a sceptical attitude towards the question of whether or not there is any foundation at all for morality.
The problem, as framed here, is not an emotional one, nor is it necessarily existential. It is not whether one may live a life with more or less fear of death, though fearlessness is indeed a spiritual achievement, prized by both Advaita and Buddhism. It is not about freedom to act beyond the institutional walls. Nor is the problem about whether or not a lack of ‘self’ would take away our claim to individual rights. The problem, as framed here, is more philosophical, more ‘global’. It is whether or not ethics has any meaningful place in a world where the individuated self is not simply doubted, but ultimately denied. With one eye on the current trends in cognitive science, I believe this question will come to play a major part in future ethical discussion. And an ethical question of particular interest to me is whether or not ‘altruism’ remains possible within a metaphysics of non-individuation. When I speak of ‘altruism’ here, I mean more than just the occasional jump into a lake to save a drowning child. Rather, I am pointing at a total outlook on being and beings, an ethical worldview. A detailed analysis of how we may qualify our terms of reference to allow for other-regarding ethics within such revisionary metaphysics will thus be offered. More generally, we might ask, just how do metaphysical claims impact upon our ethics?
If we are to understand the question from Śāntideva’s or Śaṅkara’s perspective, we need to be familiar with the distinction between what they call the ‘ultimate’ (paramārtha) truth and ‘conventional’ (saṃvṛti, vyāvahārika) truth. For simplicity, we might say that ultimate truth is that seen by the wise, and is the final description of what this world is like in ‘reality’ (tattva), essentially in terms of metaphysics. The conventional is the world of ‘common people’ (prakṛtā janāḥ), the ‘worldly’ (loka), and, in Indian terms, is the place of work, ritual and ethical action (Dharma). This sense of worldly convention is explicit in Nāgārjuna’s notion of ‘worldly conventional truth’ (loka saṃvṛti-satyaṃ) (MMK. 24.8), and both Śāntideva and Śaṅkara will show their debt to Nāgārjuna, the founder of Madhyamaka.
Nevertheless, the wise look upon the conventional world as a dream-like world, a place where the seeming permanency of objects is likened to a magical display, a mirage. In this ‘illusory’ world, the majority of men and women go about their business, praying to their Gods, stoking their sacrificial fires, selling their wares. It is a world in need of a moral structure, and both the Mādhyamikas and the Advaitins will give provisional value to it. The question of just how much of this conventional world the wise really ‘share’ with us is a matter to be addressed throughout this book. For now, it is enough to say that conventional truth is not necessarily the same as consensus. It is the external world of ‘things’, where ‘beings’ are taken seriously. When we get to the ultimate level of discourse, the validity of ‘beings-as-independent-subjects’ will be put into question. At this level of understanding, to use the language of modern philosophers of the self, there is ‘no underlying person’ (Parfit 1971: 25), there is literally ‘no one in the cave’ (Metzinger 2004: 549).
But this does not mean that there is no person at all. For the Advaitin, it means that the person does not possess an individuated self (jīvātman) which would separate him from brahman. As for the Buddhist, it means that there is no need to posit any substratum that supposedly maintains one’s individuality, one’s identity over time. Of course, Śaṅkara thus supposes that the Mādhyamika Buddhist does indeed deny the person (Ch.U.Bh. II.xxiii.1), because a non-agency thesis combined with (what he took as) their non-existence (asat) thesis wo...