Literary musings on a News Item from a Lab: New, superheavy element to enter periodic table

When Thomas Gray wrote in his Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard

Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife

Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray;

Along the cool sequester’d vale of life

They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

he was certainly not thinking of scientists working in sequestered laboratories, away from the frenzy of the terrors and threats, the cruelties and crises that characterize the world of politics and religions, and much of the news about war-mongering and missile launching. But there are, thank heavens, people whose interests and attention are drawn to music and poetry, to telescopes and microscopes and accelerators. Now and again we read about their accomplishments, not all of which may be accessible to the average citizen of the world.

One of those breakthroughs recently announced is the concoction of yet another super-heavy element in a laboratory: one with the atomic number 112. That confirms the list of human-generated elements to almost twenty beyond what nature can bear: Uranium-92.

As elements grow heavier they become unstable, losing weight, as it were, by spitting out (radioactively) intolerable excesses as alpha and beta particles. So every trans-Uranic element vanishes in due course, reducing itself to a lighter element in the natural world. Now some physicists have reported (from the Centre for Heavy Ion Research in Arheiligen in Germany) that by interbreeding (metaphorically speaking) zinc and lead nuclei they have managed to create this new overweight element with a respectable period of stability: this Pantagruel will soon acquire a technical-sounding name. Except that Rabelais’ Pantagruel was the progeny of the giant Gargantua, whereas here the parents zinc and lead are perfectly normal: only the progeny is gigantesque. A more apt literary reference would be Aldous Huxley’s Crome Yellow where  Sir Hercules and Filomena (two dwarfs) gave birth to Ferdinando, a giant by comparison, for that’s how this super-hveavy element was concocted.

Modifying Rabelais one might say:

Readers, friends, if this news you read,

You’ll find daily news hollow indeed.

There’s nothing here that’s outrageous,

Nothing sick, or bad or contagious

Physicists are ecstatic about this event

Creating another super-heavy element.

We wish our media, instead of making unhappy noises

Reports on matters about which one rejoices.

V. V. Raman

June 11, 2009

News Item: Creationism Comment Violated Constitution

“A teenager in California has win his lawsuit  against a public school teacher who called creationism “superstitious nonsense” during a classroom lecture. Chad Farnan sued Capistrano Valley High School history teacher James Corbett for that and other anti-religion comments  he said made Christians in the class feel uncomfortable, disparaged their beliefs, and violated the establishment clause of the First Amendment”

The age of debates and discussions has degenerated into one of conflicts and confrontations. There was a time when deeply religious people used to think that atheists and non-religionists are evil. Now the non-religionists imagine the religiously inclined to be mentally challenged. There was a time when non-religious and anti-religious people used to be closet dissenters. Now they have become bolder and bolder: one can write books calling religion a delusion and god as not great, and not only get away with it, but make tons of money in a book deal. All this is fair and good in a free society. But given that one can’t insult certain religions and its scriptures explicitly in public without provoking international repercussions and risking one’s own personal safety, Christians are also becoming more sensitive to continued abuse by local atheists.

The way I see it, there is no need to make believers feel small and stupid in a class-room even if one wishes to say that scientific perspectives on creation differ considerably in methodology and conclusion from the religious. After all, matters of origins are very complex, and no one can be a hundred percent sure of how or why it all began. Respect for scientifically gained knowledge and insight need not necessarily belittle other fundamental beliefs that are meaningful to millions.

More important than scientific theories and religious dogmas is respect for the other, in so far as no hurt or hate is involved. This is what will bring peace to the world, not  whether one accepts the Big Bang theory or the Book of Genesis as the true account of how the world came to be. Of course in a science course one should talk about the Big Bang and not about the seven-day creation. Religious beliefs are not matters for discussion or debate in a class-room devoted to a science course, but as the same time  insensitive and disparaging remarks about the religious sentiments and convictions of students are unworthy of a teacher whose responsibility is to teach the subject and to inculcate values that should include respect for others.

The teacher in this case may have been right in saying that religious views of biogenesis don’t quite resonate with what science seems to have established without a reasonable doubt, but he may have crossed the line if and when in the process he made one or more students in the class feel like duds along with their parents and preachers.

There is little hope for peace and harmony in the country or in the world as long as true-believing warriors on both sides of any issue are out to desecrate and destroy the framework of their opponents with little understanding or empathy for the other.

V. V. Raman

May 8, 2009

Is the Universe fine-tuned for life?

The answer to this question will depend on what one means by the significant terms used in the question.
First the universe. We live in the only universe we know. It is entirely possible – and some theories in physics make this a not implausible possibility – that there are several other universes, There may or may not be any life in many of them. So there is nothing unique in the phenomenon of life to warrant a universe that is specially intended to make life a possibility in a remote niche of its stupendously vast stretch.
Next is fine-tuned. The implication is that conditions and parameters that could be arbitrarily arranged have been given optimal values for the attainment of a specific goal. Indeed, if the initial assignment of values had been different ever so slightly, the intended goal or current situation would and could not have been achieved. Note that the verb is used in the passive voice, but the customary by X has been omitted. That is to say, one leaves open the question: fine-tuned by whom? Perhaps the implication is that it was by an intelligent designer, but this is not a phrase one dares to use in scientific discussion these days. This is also a reason why most hard-core atheist physicists and biologists shudder to contemplate this sort of anthropic or biopic principle.
The third important word is life. That life is a remarkable property of agglomerations of inert matter on our planet is undoubtedly a perplexing situation. We know that life emerged on our planet because of the external conditions of temperature and atmospheric pressure for a sufficiently long time period of time, and the abundant availability of certain elements and compounds. Unique as life seems to be on our solar system, one can also imagine other entities in the universe that are unique to some planets and satellites: volcanoes, atmosphere, water/ice, common salt, and clay. Or again, orbiting planets and comets may be unique to some stars. On the basis of these could one argue, for example, that the universe was fine-tuned for rings around Saturn or planets with satellites?
In sum, then, the question cannot be answered with a simple yes or a no, although in probabilistic and cosmic history terms it seems highly unlikely that parameters were fine-tuned for such a late and fleeting event that was to occur several billions of years after the big bang genesis.
But the simplistic answer to the question could be, of course yes. Otherwise how could life have arisen at all?
May 9, 2009

Is the Universe fine-tuned for life?

The answer to this question will depend on what one means by the significant terms used in the question.

First the universe. We live in the only universe we know. It is entirely possible – and some theories in physics make this a not implausible possibility – that there are several other universes, There may or may not be any life in many of them. So there is nothing unique in the phenomenon of life to warrant a universe that is specially intended to make life a possibility in a remote niche of its stupendously vast stretch.

Next is fine-tuned. The implication is that conditions and parameters that could be arbitrarily arranged have been given optimal values for the attainment of a specific goal. Indeed, if the initial assignment of values had been different ever so slightly, the intended goal or current situation would and could not have been achieved. Note that the verb is used in the passive voice, but the customary by X has been omitted. That is to say, one leaves open the question: fine-tuned by whom? Perhaps the implication is that it was by an intelligent designer, but this is not a phrase one dares to use in scientific discussion these days. This is also a reason why most hard-core atheist physicists and biologists shudder to contemplate this sort of anthropic or biopic principle.

The third important word is life. That life is a remarkable property of agglomerations of inert matter on our planet is undoubtedly a perplexing situation. We know that life emerged on our planet because of the external conditions of temperature and atmospheric pressure for a sufficiently long time period of time, and the abundant availability of certain elements and compounds. Unique as life seems to be on our solar system, one can also imagine other entities in the universe that are unique to some planets and satellites: volcanoes, atmosphere, water/ice, common salt, and clay. Or again, orbiting planets and comets may be unique to some stars. On the basis of these could one argue, for example, that the universe was fine-tuned for rings around Saturn or planets with satellites?

In sum, then, the question cannot be answered with a simple yes or a no, although in probabilistic and cosmic history terms it seems highly unlikely that parameters were fine-tuned for such a late and fleeting event that was to occur several billions of years after the big bang genesis.

But the simplistic answer to the question could be, of course yes. Otherwise how could life have arisen at all?

V. V. Raman

May 9, 2009

Can Many Religions All be True?

Someone was once asked: “How come there is only one science, but there are so many religions?” The answer that was given was: Because there can be only one right answer to a question, but there can many wrong ones. This flippant reply may satisfy atheists and those who attach little importance to religions, but it cannot be taken seriously, given that religions have played such a major role in culture and civilization. It is difficult to accept that over the centuries hundreds of thousands of intelligent people have been persuaded by the truths of religion.

And yet, given that there are so many religions, it is legitimate to ask: “ (How) Can Many Religions All be True?” The answer to this question will depend on the meaning of the word true in the context of religions.

Truth, as commonly understood, is an attribute one associates with facts and other elements that have tangible existence. With this meaning, it is logically impossible for different religions, adhering to different and often mutually contradicting doctrines and dogmas to all be true. Not all the colors of the rainbow can be white.

However, it is important to realize that there are truths that touch the core of our being, that bring meaning and relevance to existence, that reveal hidden dimensions of the human condition. The truths of literature and art, in music and myths and in religion belong to this category. These endopotent truths are not more true or less true than the facts and laws that undergird the physical universe (exopotent truths): they are truths of an altogether different category. Endopotent truths have greater value to individuals, communities, and cultures than the equations of quantum mechanics, the existence of quarks and leptons, or the big bang origin of the physical universe.

Endopotent truths are multi-valued: i.e. they can be manifest in multiple modes: as Vedic hymns to ancient sage-poets in India, as the Commandments conveyed to Moses, as the enlightened utterances of the Buddha and of Mahavira, as the Sermon that Jesus gave on the Mount, as the revelations to the Prophet Mohammed, as the syncretic insights of Guru Nanak, and so on. So, indeed, there are many religions, and they can all be true in this sense, just as every interpretation of a great poem or work of art has validity for the keen student, just as every piece of music is equally music.

But it is important to realize that all truths have both positive and negative impact potentials, depending on the actions and attitudes they enable (exopotent) and inspire (endopotent) us to.

With both religion and science, then, what is important is to inquire is not so much their truth-content in the conventional sense of the word (which will invariably lead to confrontation and mutual disrespect, if not contempt and belligerence), but to be concerned about what their impact potentials are. Any religion that leads to positive actions and attitudes such as caring, compassion, ecstatic spiritual experience is desirable; and any that engenders hate, hurt, and persecution is not. Likewise, any science that leads to improving human health and the human condition is preferable to one that can be used for destruction and devastation.

V. V. Raman

April 15, 2009

Reflections on Wendy Doniger, The Hindus: An alternative history, The Penguin Press, 2009

Introduction

Wendy Doniger is a scholar of repute among academic Indologists, known especially for her many translations and interpretations of various classical Sanskrit texts. She is also a person of ill-repute among a large section of modern literate Hindus in whose estimate her Freudian interpretations of traditional (Hindu) symbols are obsessive, offensive, and plain wrong. And she may be fairly unknown to millions of others with only a peripheral interest in matters Hindu or Indian.

One thing the outside world knows well about Hinduism is that it is steeped in the infamous caste system in which the upper caste Brahmins (used to) hold sway. The widespread impression one gathers from notifications on the caste hierarchy is that the Brahmins possessed all the knowledge while they oppressed and exploited the lower castes. Then again, as in most other traditional societies, women held only a second place in the Hindu world. Though there may be more than a few grains of truth in such assessments, what is far less known is that vast numbers of women and members of the so-called lower castes have also made significant contributions to Hindu culture and civilization. Their voices have been heard, their perspectives have been preserved, and their writings are read and recited in the fascinatingly complex that is Hinduism.

The author of this book has done a marvelous job of setting the record straight on this matter. She does this with the erudition that is expected of her, with an understanding that only an insightful scholar can muster, and an empathy that might come as a surprise to some of her harsh critics from the Hindu world. She presents her alternative history, not by recounting who did what, when and where; her chronological narrative is constructed with profuse quotes from important and sometimes little known texts, to which she has added her own commentaries.

The book is strewn with wit, wisdom and word-play, as also nuggets of insights on Hindu visions. Doniger reminds us of the Hindu capacity to entertain contradictory views, which also enables one to see both sides of an argument (p. 11). Perhaps this springs from the recognition that this finite world of ours is replete with dualities which are sometimes contradictory, sometimes complementary. She presents this as an explanation, if not as an excuse, for studying the culture as an outsider while fully recognizing the right and relevance of those who study it as insiders. Ironically, this enlightened vision comes from an outsider today while there are voices from within that decry the outsider whose views are said to be skewed by colored and callous lenses through which they peer. While I can well understand why and how a great many Hindus may be outraged and infuriated by Doniger’s frequent Freudian interpretations, upon reading this book, I am inclined to trust her when she says: “… I intend to go on celebrating the diversity and pluralism, not to mention the worldly wisdom and sensuality, of the Hindus that I have loved for about fifty years now and still counting (p. 16).” By the way, surprise of surprise, there is not one hint of a Freudian perspective in the whole book.

Doniger makes some keen observations on the Indian mind: “In Indian history, individuals have turned the tide against tolerance or violence even against the current of the zeitgeist (p. 21).” She has a clear grasp of myths and symbols, and gives as intelligent a commentary on the linga as one can find anywhere (p. 22). She discusses at length the diversity that characterizes the Hindu world (p. 24) , and she has revised the ithyphallic interpretation of the Indus Valley seal (p. 34). She brings out the role and relevance of women in the evolution of the Hindu world, as seen in texts and references, as also of the variety of non-caste Hindus who have borne a range of (not very complementary) epithets. Unlike most writers on India by Western scholars, Doniger devotes an entire chapter to the Tamil (South Indian) tradition. Here, if one may point to a sin of omission, the names of Auvaiyar and the epic of Kannaki (Silappatikaaram) are glaringly absent. She also makes us aware of the central role that animals have always played in Hindu culture, and points out that the trinity of power, purity, and pollution are symbolized in Hindu lore and literature through the horse, the cow, and the dog (p.40).

The beginning

The history begins from the geological Gondwanaland which rests on the continental drift model and the mythical Lemuria to which some Tamil enthusiasts still trace their distant and all but forgotten ancestry (p. 51 et seq.). Few modern texts on Indian history – mainstream or otherwise – even mention these. There are then discussions of the first of the avataras (the Mastya) (p. 58), and the four major eons (yugas) of Hindu mythic chronology (p. 57). But right here Doniger makes the well-known observation about the Hindu world: the “rich hybrid or multiple mix is precisely what makes Hinduism the cultural masterpiece that it is (p. 64).”

The world knows about the cave paintings in Altamira and Lascaux, but not many may have heard about Bhimbetka cave paintings that date back to 30,000 years and more. So the history appropriately begins with a brief report on these. Then follows a coup d’oeil of the Indus Valley Civilization which is the ur-civilization of India, never mind its current national location in Pakistan. Speaking of the controversial interpretations of the seals, Doniger suggests the possibility that” the people of the IVC had no religion at all, in trhe sense of a state cult or an enforced dogma., Is it possible that this was the first secular state, anticipating the European Enlightenment by four thousand years (?) (p. 80).” This seems certainly more probable than the claim that Vedantic philosophers knew all about quantum mechanics.

On origins

A whole chapter (5) is devoted to a discussion of various theories as to the origins of Vedic civilization, and Doniger is careful not to openly take any side. She does point to the problems that the various conjectures face. In the course of these discussions she has no problem conceding (like modern Westerners) what many Indian nationalists sometimes tauntingly reiterate, namely that “the people of the Indus were building great cities and the people of the Vedas creating great literature at a time when the British were still swinging in trees (p. 93).” She does present the absence of any horse evidence to suggest that at the very least the Vedic civilization was not a direct continuation of the IVC. Nevertheless, she notes the worldviews and visions of the people of IVC being deeply embedded in Hindu culture. As she puts is, “The non-Veda is the fons et origo of Hinduisam; new ideas, new narratives, new practices arose in the non-Sanskrit world, found their way into the Sanskrt world, and, often, left it again, to have a second or third or fourth life among the great vernacular traditions of India (p. 100-01).”

In a chapter dealing with aspects of the Rig Veda (5) attention is drawn explicitly to the violence implicit in the sacrificial rites, and the tension between the upper and lower layers o society. We are told that the marginalization is characteristic of people of “all classes who fall pray to addiction and/or intoxication … (p. 104).” But she also points out that the Vedic mindset is pluralistic, and open-minded. She sees the very pluralism (in the context of social classes) as being at the root of the caste system that has become an intrinsic, and almost inerasable aspect of Hindu society. Her reflections on the Rig Veda is not for the orthodox, certainly not for those who regard the hymns as revealed truths that have vibrated since the first tick of time, heard by only by the privileged few rishis. But if the reader approaches them as the inspired poetry of eminent sage poets of a pastoral and prevailing people, her analytical commentaries may sound both interesting and insightful.

The following chapter (6) discusses sacrifices: their origins and impacts, and here we are told how post-mortem theories were slowly refined since Vedic mythopoesie. She reminds us that “sacrifice is about death and sex. Rituals tend to tame those dangers (associated with sex and death) … and to make them public, to make them safe for the sacrificer (p. 160).” Here too the role of women and dogs is mentioned. We are reminded that meat (beef) eating by ancient Hindus was not uncommon, as also of the possibility of human sacrifice in those distant times. In this chapter we get to know about one Hindu theory of theodicy: “Evil on earth in general results from fallout from heaven, and the cosmic struggles of gods and antigods (p. 162).”

Renunciation and spirituality

In a chapter on renunciation in the Upanishads (7) various meanings of karma are explained (p. 168 et seq.), as also a possible reason for the reincarnation concept, perhaps to account for the fact that the heavens are not overcrowded with the souls of the dead (p. 170). We are told that “Hinduism was violent not only in its sensuality but in its reaction against that sensuality – violent, that is, both in its addictions and in the measures that it took to curb those addictions… p. 194).” Here she also reiterates the central thesis in most of her other writings: “… sensuality continued to keep its foot in the door of the house of religion; the erotic was a central path throughout the history of India (p. 195).” But more importantly, much perhaps to the disappointment of those Hindus who are convinced of their unique spirituality and to the satisfaction of Neo-Hindus who want to show the world that Hindus are as this-world–minded as any people, she informs us of recent evidence that seems to suggest that “Hinduism … on the ground was less concerned with soteriology and more with worldly values than textual scholars had previously assumed (p. 195).” This just shows how misleading interpretations from texts alone can be.

In an interesting listing of various triads in the Hindu worldview: gunas, doshasm, lokas, arthas, etc. we read how a fourth one was often added. Thus, as in the Tirukural (which, strangely, is not mentioned even once in the book), there used to be only dharma, artha, and kama. Moksha was added as a fourth principle only later. Doniger points out that likewise a fourth was added to the other triads also. With her usual wordplay she calls this squaring the circle: impossible mathematically, but achievable on the philosophical plane. The rules of dharma are nicely formulated, but we are reminded that “these rules were not meant to apply to women, whose only sva-dharma was to obey their husbands, and their only sacrament, marriage (p. 210).” She could have added in fairness that in this matter the classical Hindu world was not any different from any other cultural scene.

Women in the Ramayana and violence in the Mahabharata

The chapter on women and ogresses in the Ramayana (9) is somewhat disappointing. Aside from the fact that the epic itself is not summarised in the most respectful tone, there is no reference to Urmila or Mandodhari. Manthara (without whom there would have been no book beyond the Balakanda) is disposed of as the hunchback woman, and the noble Ahalya is simply called “the archetypal adulteress (p. 232).” I would have expected some deeper and more interesting analyses of these women.

As a prelude to a chapter devoted to violence in the Mahabharata there is a (not very hearty) summary of Ashoka’s conquests and edicts, and the rise of sectarian worship in the Hindu world. Then she goes to discuss the chronology of the MB with respect to the Ramayana, and the unified anthology of stories that the epic is. She wisely notes that “The contradictions at its heart are not the mistakes of a sloppy editor but the enduring cultural dilemmas that no author could ever have resolved (p. 264).” Then she draws a parallel between the “ambivalence towards nonviolence (ahimsa) expressed in the Ashokan edicts and in the Mahabharata (p. 265).” She also sees a core pessimism in the epic when she declares that “The Mahabharata sees a vice behind every virtue, a snake behind every horse, and a doomsday behind every victory (p. 276)”: as Doniger herself often sees a hidden sexual meaning behind every episode, one might add.

But in a following chapter (11) she reminds us that there is also dharma in the Mahabharata. That dharma is the central motif in the epic is well-known to any student of the epic. But often one also tends to focus on, and take literally, the story line of the epic. In this context Doniger draws a beautiful simile: “To say that the long sermons on dharma are a digression from the story … would be like saying that the arias in a Verdi opera are unwelcome interruptions of the libretto; dharma, like the arias, is the centerpiece, for which the narration (the recitative) is merely the frame (p. 177-78). She could have added in this otherwise apt analogy that the opera belongs uniquely to the aesthetic dimension of culture, Mahabharata has an ethical dimension too. Then again, through this parallel which will be hardly clear to a good many Hindu readers, we can see that this book is not addressed to a Hindu audience, but to a Western. The root of the frustrating enigma of the Hindu world is also stated here: “The Mahabharata both challenges and justifies the entire class structure (p. 286).” The chapter which includes among other topics a detailed discussion on Draupadi and polyandry, and concludes with some insightful reflections on the two major (Sanskrit) epics of the tradition (p. 302-03).

On shastras, bhakti and Puranas

Doniger succinctly describes the shastras as the body of writings that “spelled out the dominant paradigm with regard to women, animals, and castes (305).” She brings out the chaos and creativity of the so-called age of darkness, and talks about Manu and all the associated restrictions and penalties, and how women are regarded in the dharmashastra and in the Kamasutra. In this chapter (12) she refers to Manu as “the flag bearer for the Hindu oppression of women (p. 327),” and points out that through Vatsayana’s text we can hear women’s voices telling us that “women have no voices (328).” She lists modes by which sexually challenged males were described, and the conventional penalties for the same. One important aspect of the shastras, which has perhaps been a saving grace for the Hindu world – saved from the horrors of medieval punishments for misbehavior such as obtained in other cultures – was that “The shastras present, from time to time, diametrically opposed, even contradictory opinions on a particular subject, without coming down strongly in favor of ne or the other (p. 334).” Recognizing that not everyone really or literally followed the shasras, Doniger pays a tribute to those writings when she describes them “as theoretical treatises (that) constitute one of the greatest cosmopolitan scientific literatures of the ancient world (p. 337).”

In the chapter on bhakti in South India (13) we read a brief history of the Tamils, descriptions of temples, sculptures, and architecture, as also of the habitual slaughter and brutality of the Chola army. This simply reveals that when it comes to conquests and subjugation, the peoples of the world were/are basically the same. Doniger points out that in the bhakti movement, the feminine virtues of gentleness, sacrifice, and love replaced the masculine traits of intelligence and scholarship (p. 353). She rightly remembers Antal in this context who was to inspire many a later-day woman saint in the tradition; but of whom few Northern Indian Hindus have even heard. She writes Periya Puranam without an m (p. 357 et seq.) suggesting that her knowledge of Tamil, unlike Sanskrit, is only second-hand. Her narration of the legend of Kannappar (which she suddenly retells as if it is history) is somewhat glib, with statements like “Kanappar does not understand metaphor (p. 358).” Clearly, with all her deep scholarship, she either doesn’t seem to understand or inadvertently trivializes bhakti. On not infrequent occasions like this, Donigar unwittingly (or is it wittily?) tarnishes her otherwise interesting, profound, and insightful reflections. She reiterates the now discarded episode of the appalling Jain persecution at the hands of Hindus in the Tamil country, only to say in the end that “there is no evidence that any of this actually happened other than the story (p. 365)” she narrates. Then why tell this story?

In the chapter on the Puranas (14), she lists a few early Hindu mathematicians. She spends more lines on the Mahabharata version of Shakuntala which portrays King Dushyanta in ugly terms, and barely says a line about the greatness of Kalidasa as a poet. In this chapter again, there is a cold, not to say sarcastic, listing of the vahanas of the Puranic deities, which many practicing Hindus might find offensive, even if she might not have meant it to be; and Non-Hindus might find inscrutable, if not comical. However, in the end she does seem to get it when she says that the association of animals with the godheads “may be seen as a more particularized expression of the basic Hindu philosophy (belief?) that the ultimate principle of reality (brahman) is present within the soul of every living creature (atman) (p.p. 400).” She could have started the section with this intelligent observation.

Sects, sex, and philosophical schools

One gets a scholarly overview of the Tantric tradition from chapter 15 of the book: its history, its bases, its ramifications, and its interpretations. There is even a clever substitution for equivalence of the conventional Sanskrit five M’s of the Tantric framework with five English F-words (p. 424). But even with all the female-flattery in the texts (“Women are gods, women are life, women are jewels, etc.” as embodying “the secret of all the Tantras”), on final analysis, as Doniger curtly puts it, “for the most part the (Tantric) rituals were designed to benefit people who had lingas, not yonis (p. 433).”

In a chapter on different philosophical schools, provocatively entitled, Philosophical feurds (18), we have a succinct survey of some major philosophical systems wherein the role of Shankara is well brought out, and the impact of the South Indian Saiva-siddhanta on Kashmir Shaivism is carefully articulated.

On Moghul impacts

While most Hindus are rightly outraged by the plunders and pillages of the likes of Mahmud of Ghazni and Ibrahim Lodi, not many may know that, like the British centuries later, Muslims first entered India as innocuous traders (p. 448). And we are told that “despite the evidence of persecution of varying degrees in different places and times, Hinduism under Islam was alive and well and living in India (p. 459).” This, however, may be poor consolation to millions of Hindus whose life and culture have been led to face the most intense existential challenges as long-range consequences of Islamic imperialistic intrusions into the land of the Hindus: something she doesn’t think is necessary to point out, perhaps because she doesn’t want to dwell on the negative sides of these interactions which are marring the global scene today .

In her recounting of the history and variety of the Puranic avataras Doniger not only exposes their medieval imaginative origins, but also lays bare the many mix-ups in their listings and versions, in spite of which many (even modern) Hindus continue to attach historical authenticity to the tall tales that form their contents. He amentions the more recent claims that the avataras are deep insights into the Darwinian theory of evolution (p. 475). In another context she mentions a tongue-in-cheek reference to Geroge Bush as “the contemporary form of Kalki (p. 679).”

She recounts the barbarity of Babur, as also the gentleness and tolerance of Akbar, the fanatic and savage deeds of Aurangazeb – especially his demolotion of Hindu temples and building mosques in their place and his dismembering of Shambhaji- as also Jahangir’s conversion experiences regarding hunting and meat-eating. She remembers the well known conversion of large numbers of Hindus into Islam, but also records the much less widely known fact that many Muslims were also converted into Hinduism and Shah Jahan’s efforts to curb this (p. 546).

In a chapter on Hinduism under the Mughals we read about the increase in the number of visitors to places of pilgrimage encouraged by the kings (so as to collect more taxes), the emergence of Tulsi Das and his impact on popular (North-Indian) Hinduism, of the rise of Sri Chaitanya and his impact, and so on.

The Raj

The changing attitudes of the British towards India are dissected, with a mention of deep Orientalism. In passing there is a reference to its counterpart Occidentalism (the facile identification science, materialism, technology, colonialism, imperialism, exploitation of the Non-West with Western civilization) which sorely needs a thorough examination in the current world. It is not clear of any scholar from the West or the Non-West is ready to undertake such a study.

Doniger is not very friendly to the British, least of all in her reporting on the Black Hole of Calcutta, and compares the British argument that they had brought trains and drains to India to Hitler’s apologists who say he built the Autobahn in Germany (p. 583).

Doniger’s take on Suttee is surprisingly emic: Without condoning a practice that is obviously unacceptable from enlightened perspectives, she is able to understand the system in its context, traces its mythological roots, and refers to it as only one instance of the countless contexts and cultures in human history where women have been conceptually and practically victims at the hands of dominant males. She mentions Raja Ram Mohan Roy’s leadership to put an end to the practice through the British government, but does not say why a similar Hindu leader did not rise during the Mughal period when Akbar generously allowed Hindu women to practice She reminds us in this context that “women have been beaten to death by their husbands and even burned alive (sometimes as witches) even in countries where there is no suttee mythology of women and fire (p.614).” Her unbiased analysis of the modernist reactions to suttee reveals the complexity of the problem, and should not be interpreted as an apology for a custom nowhere sanctioned in any Hindu text, much less as an excuse for preserving an unconscionable misogynic practice.

Hindus in America and new visions

There is a brief chapter (23) on Hindus in America which offers us many tidbits on cult-gurus who have been successful in various measures in the country. It barely mentions the role of Indian professionals in different departments of American secular life, nor the exceptional performance of Hindu children in American schools or the Spelling Bee. All these are part of a very complex scenario wrought with immense and as yet unimagined possibilities which she hardly touches. But in this chapter, Doniger answers some of the criticisms and complaints leveled against American scholars like herself who write on Hinduism. She does this with understanding and sympathy, rather than anger (given some extremely sharp comments on her scholarship and even right to write on Hinduism), and in a commendably balanced tone. Here again, she reminds the (Hindu) reader of the extraordinary diversity: “… there is seemingly no limit to the variations that Hindus have rung on every aspect of their religion. Authenticity is … a difficult concept to apply to any representation of Hinduism (p. 650).”

In another chapter (24) we read about the colorful ways in which ancient icons and approaches have been re-incarnating in the modern world, reflecting the persistence and tenacity of systems and worldviews that, with all the breakthroughs in knowledge and revolutions in life-styles, the Hindu psyche can never led go of in their totality. Put differently, the firm anchor to the past is a reflection of the adaptive resilience of a culture that is deeply rooted, yet strong and flexible in creative ways.

On history

In the climactic chapter of the book (25), Doniger reflects on the uses and abuses of history generally, with particular references to Indian history, here again recalling the duality, both in theory and in practice, that characterizes the Hindu mode. It may be said of any great civilization that its significant accomplishments have been both great and ignoble, that it has both enriched and hurt its own people and others. Doniger’s narrative illustrates this general proposition to the Hindu case. She does this so well, and forgetting for a moment the relevance of this principle in the case of Rome or Europe, Islam or the United States, the reader can fully appreciate how glaringly applicable it is in the Hindu context. I also felt as I read through the pages that she has done this with a deep understanding of and (for the more part) greater empathy for Indic culture than her critics could have imagined or expected, let alone done themselves. She pays homage to “the infinite inventiveness of this great (Hindu) civilization, which has never had a pope to rule certain narratives unacceptable (p. 689).” And she rightly laments, as any lover of India who has not allowed the heart and mind to be clouded as a result of some very real dangers that the country and culture are facing today both from within and from without, “that now there are some who would set up such a papacy in India, smuggling into Hinduism a Christian idea of orthodoxy.” She is also optimistic in recognizing that there are voices and forces that strive to prevent this from happening.

Some concluding thoughts

Every Non-Hindu, whether scholar or lay person, who has any interest in the Hindu world is likely to read and benefit from this book. Many English-educated Hindus may also skim through the book, even if only reluctantly. Wendy Doniger who has devoted a lifetime to the study of Sanskrit and to (her own) elucidation of Hindu culture has written a semi-popular, but erudite treatise on aspects of classical India, drawing largely from original texts. The book is certainly a solid contribution to a global understanding of the Hindu world from interesting perspectives, tracing, as it does, the roots of Hindu worldviews to the vast corpus of literature, lay and religious, oral and written, in Sanskrit and in Tamil, ranging from Vedic hymns and the great epics to the Upanishads, Puranas, and more that have breathed life into Indic culture. Though interspersed with tongue-in-cheek comments which are not likely to sit well with all readers, the book is a delight to read. It brings together the many strands that weave traditional Hinduism into a rainbow richness, with its dichotomies and marvelous contradictions. There are not too many social histories of classical India, certainly none of this sweep and subtlety. What is sorely missing in the book is a narrative on the independent India of the past six decades and more, which has become oh so different, for the good and for the bad, from the purana India she has painted so well and in such detail.

Not all Hindus will be thrilled by the tone of the book here and there, but it is difficult for any objective reader to deny that Wendy Doniger has worthily executed the task she had set for herself: to capture the evolution to Hindu culture with emphasis on the perspectives of the underclass. In the process she educates everyone, or at least enriches the eager reader in countless ways.

V. V. Raman

Emeritus Professor of Physics and Humanities

Rochester Institute of Technology

April 15, 2009

The Brain as a Detector

The (current) view of physics is that there is no color in the life-less physical universe: there are only electromagnetic waves of different wavelengths (frequencies).

But the marvelously wonderful human (and some other) brains have optical systems that see the differing frequencies as different colors.

Now there are two ways of interpreting this:

1. The enormously complex brain has the unique capacity to turn some e.m. Waves into color which simply doesn’t exist in the universe.

2. The universe has two quite different kinds of characteristics: The physically tangible and the physically intangible. The latter are latent dimensions of the universe, which only a complex system like the brain can render explicit. Somewhat like a painting that simply cannot come into existence without a paper or a canvass or a plane surface, color and meaning and order and symmetry are implicit aspects of the universe, which the human brain (or similar structures) alone can actualize. According to interpretation (mine) meaning and mathematics are very much intrinsic to the universe, but just as we can never become aware of double star systems and or spiral galaxies without a telescope, one needs a brain to become aware of these.

What we sometimes call an emergent property is analogous to the “emergence” of pulsars when the sky is scanned with a radio telescope.

What is Science?

There are perhaps a hundred different definitions of science on none of which there may be consensus. These definitions are not unlike the descriptions of the elephant by the six blind men: all of whom were partially right, but none totally so.

Recognizing this, let me offer my own definition and description of science, subject to the same constraint as any other.

“Science is a collective trans-national effort by Homo sapiens to understand, appreciate, and explain every aspect of perceived reality that has been acquired through thorough and systematic observation with the aid of instruments, concepts, and mathematical methods (when possible) in a coherent, consistent, sharable, verifiable, and rational framework, with the conviction that there are no supernatural entities behind natural phenomena.”

The totality of understanding and interpretation thus acquired constitutes the scientific knowledge of a given period. This knowledge is always in a dynamic state, susceptible to modification, improvement, and even total replacement as a result of further scientific activity.

There may be other modes of grasping other dimensions reality (presumed or actual), but the criteria for accepting their validity are different from the ones adopted by science: coherence, consistency, rationality, sharability, and trans-national verifiability.

V. V. Raman

Three Kinds of Time and Objective Reality

There are at least three aspects of time: experiential, conceptual, and physical. Experiential time may drift ever so slowly (often for the young, who are impatient for adulthood) or flee all too fast (especially as one approaches the precipitous terminal cliff at an advanced age). Experiential time is perhaps the most insubstantial element in human consciousness. It is with us all through our waking hours, apparently drifting silently and ceaselessly in the external world as well as within the very core of our being.
Conceptual time is like an imaginary straight line that can extended to infinity in either direction, taking us to realms way beyond the bracket whose bounds cosmologists proclaim as the big bang and heat-death. It has no beginning and no end, just an imaginary stretch the mind constructs.
Then there is the steady flow of physical time in a given frame of reference, the sort that is measured by physicists and chronometers, taking advantage of periodic changes, either at the lunar and stellar levels or at the microcosmic domain of atomic transitions. Physical time, as per current cosmology, had its birth with the big bang and was nonexistent prior to this ignition of the physical world.
Theologians have argued about whether God created time. The simple answer could be, “Of course God did, for did not God create everything?” Or, “Certainly not, since there was no God prior to thinking man.” In other words, the two simple answers depend on whether a person is a theist or an atheist. The Svetasvatara Upanishad describes God as the “architect of time”: kâlakâro. For Pythagoras, time was the soul of the world.
What is relevant to recognize is that experiential time plays a role when we are bored or having fun, conceptual time comes into the fore when we are logically analyzing the nature of time, and physical time matters when we are doing serious physics or cosmology.
Shakespeare once described time as both our parent and our grave. Indeed, each one of us tastes a slice of time, and when the lights go off in conscious life, we drop out of the steady stream in which we seem to be drifting. It is conscious life that perceives the presence of the stream. When we are thrown into the invisible stream of physical time, it turns into experiential time, a portion of a stream that continues indefinitely. What we do during that interval is what really matters.

V.V. Raman appears with Brian Leftow, the Rev. Dr. John Polkinghorne, Ernan McMullin, William Lane Craig, and Robert Russell in “Did God Create Time?” the 24th episode in the Closer to Truth: Cosmos, Consciousness, God TV series, hosted and created by Robert Lawrence Kuhn. The series airs Thursdays on the PBS HD network and many other PBS stations. Every Friday, participants will share their views on the previous day’s episode.

Labels: Closer to Truth

On Religious Conversions

Our scientific understanding of the world arises from systematic exploration of the natural world and/or by learning about the results of such studies. However, this calls for serious study, experimentation, clarity of analysis, and the like. The scientific understanding of the physical world can be enriching and uplifting, but it is not required for everyday living.

Our religious affiliation often arises from how and where we are brought up.

We are enriched spiritually and humanized ethically by enlightened religious guidance. Every religion lauds the glory of God. Someone said here recently that extolling the glory of God is something Hindu. True enough, but is also Jewish: Hebrew psalms extol God’s glory.  Christians sing in Church: in exelsis Deo (in God’s Glory). Arab Muslims sometimes greet with the phrase: al-hamdu lillah (glory to God), In the Bible we read: all to the glory of God.

As we grow and acquire new knowledge and experience, our religious convictions are strengthened or weakened, confirmed or unconfirmed, depending on our by personal experiences. Often in the face of deep disappointment, in context of facing some difficult, even unbearable situations, while reflecting on social injustices, natural disasters, and the like, one refines, modifies, rejects or switches one’s religious beliefs.

Proselytizing religions do not subscribe to this (from our point of view enlightened) view of religion. Traditionally, they believed that they convert people in order to <save> their souls from a terrible after-life (called Hell).

Right or wrong, as a result of their zeal, today those religions (Christianity + Islam) together have more than three billion adherents of all races and in all regions, whereas Hindus number barely 900 million.

There can also be intra-religious conversion. This can be of two kinds: (a) sectarian: e.g. Catholics to Protestants; Vaishnavism to Shaivism (rare these days); (b) interpretations unenlightened to enlightened: Orthodox to Reformed Judaism, caste-observing to caste-rejecting Hinduism; traditional to Unitarian Christianity.

February 26, 2009