Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Indian logic. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Indian logic. Sort by date Show all posts

Hindu Pramanas

     


    A tradition might be critically examined from the inside out or from the outside in. I'll approach it the first manner in this essay. 

    Raising the kinds of questions I'll be asking already suggests a certain detachment from that tradition, but I do it with the intention of promoting conventional ways of thinking rather than pointing out any flaws or limitations it may have. 

    One faces the danger of becoming an overly quick, superficial, or even haughty critic of a long and revered tradition if they live outside the place where that tradition arose and still has strong roots and are exposed to a strong and chronologically and culturally more relevant style of thought. 

    One develops the impression that they are liberated, free of every tradition, and may thus criticize their own. 

    But if that illusion of freedom is false, then criticism is only surface-level. 

    The critic will be forgetting what Gadamer so vividly taught us if he asserts that he is free from all traditions and that he is instead thinking within a new tradition, such as the tradition of (modern) rationality. 

    I will only indirectly discuss the texts that these schools get their inspiration from while discussing the Indian philosophical heritage. 

    Instead, I will focus on the Indian darsanas, the traditional philosophical schools. 

    This choice, which is supported by the use of antiquity, gives us a less unclear discourse to consider and enables us to avoid numerous common mistakes. 

    When discussing Indian philosophy, it's typical to argue, for instance, that it is profoundly spiritual, that its aim is not only intellectual gymnastics but rather the spiritual alteration of one's character, and that philosophy is a tool for achieving moksa, or spiritual emancipation. 

    Such broad assertions are, to put it mildly, quite deceptive; in a well-known interpretation, they may even be untrue. 


    Characteristics of Indian Philosophy


    The following observations might pave the way for a more thorough examination of the characteristics of Indian philosophy:


    1. First and foremost, there is no denying that the Upanisads have a strong spiritual motivation: it is said that realizing the atman will end all suffering in this world and lead to a state of spiritual emancipation (whatever the latter may mean). 

    Even though the darsanas attribute their beliefs and doctrines to the Upanisads, it is sometimes mistaken to fail to discern between their purported spirituality and that of the Upanisads. 

    2. Second, contemplating spiritual issues is not in and of itself spiritual.  This assertion merely serves to reaffirm the kind of thinking it is, not to diminish it. 

    Quâ thought is neither spiritual nor non-spiritual; it may be comprehensive or shallow, daring or conventional, logically rigorous or lacking in rigor, critical or creative. 

    Consider the related statement that perception is not a function of thought. 

    3. Another point often overlooked by proponents of the spiritual nature of the darsanas is that although some of them, at least, acknowledge sabda as a pramana or method of real knowledge, they do not associate sabda with any particular experience. 

    Those who seek to claim that the identification of Sabda as a Pramana is equivalent to agreeing to the spiritual experiences of the "seers" an authoritative position misinterpret this issue, about which the philosophical tradition had considerable clarity. 

    I'll come back to this perplexity later. 


    Cliches like the idea that Indian philosophies rely more on intuition than intellect exhibit the same kind of misconception. 

    Apart from the fact that the terms "intuition" and "intellect" have multiple and overlapping usage, I want to remind individuals who like such clichés that none of the darsanas use the word "intuition," which is a pramana. 

    Without going into any more detail, let me go on to the flattering remarks I want to make. 

    I'll categorize my comments into three groups: those about pramana, or real cognition's methods, those about prameya, or its objectives, and those about the theory's general position, goal, and relationship to other lines of investigation. 


    The Purpose Of Philosophical Theories.


    A philosophical theory must provide a detailed explanation of how things are, but it must also support that description with a theory of evidence, logical justification, and critical evaluation. 

    It must have a philosophy of those theoretical procedures in addition to using facts, reasons, and critical evaluations. 

    It must provide universal responses to issues like: When is a cognitive assertion true? What kind of evidence are appropriate in determining if a cognitive assertion is true? What kinds of reasons for holding certain ideas are acceptable? What standards are acceptable for seriously evaluating competing claims? What are the relative strengths and weaknesses of the criteria when they conflict? The pramana theory focuses on solving these problems. 

    The fact that all of the darsanas developed their own theories of pramana at some point throughout their evolution is a unique indication of the high degree of intellectual complexity of the darsanas. 

    As is fairly well known, these theories varied not just in terms of how pramana was defined (and the accompanying idea of prama, i.e., actual cognition), but also in terms of how many pramanas there were and what characteristics each one had. 

    Here, I want to call attention to a few standout characteristics that come up in these debates and shed a little, if any, light on the Indian conception of reason. 

    Let's start by pointing out a significant discrepancy in locution, which is not just a question of locution but rather indicates serious fundamental problems. 

    Until recently, it was common in the Western philosophical tradition to question whether knowing comes from reason or experience. 

    The solutions provided by the rationalists and the empiricists were different. 

    These responses, in their different iterations, guided Western philosophy's development. 

    The concepts "reason" and "experience" don't have direct equivalents in Sanskrit philosophical jargon, and the epistemological problem has never been discussed in such broad terms. 

    On the other hand, the issue of whether perception is the sole pramana or if anumana is a pramana was posed, and it is possible that this question will be misunderstood for the one that was just presented in the Western tradition. 

    Neither "perception" nor "anumana" are interchangeable with "experience" or "reason," respectively. 

    Every philosophical school that acknowledged perception as a pramana did so, but many of them did not limit perception to sensory perception, nor did they limit sensory perception to the realm of perceptible characteristics, like color, and material things, like sticks and stones. 

    The ego and its attributes, such as pleasure, suffering, desire, and cognition, universals, such as redness, natural-kind essences, such as cowness, and relations, such as touch and inherence, were among the objects that were considered to be sensually sensed (of a quality in a substance; of a universal in its instances). 

    Anumana, or inference, derives from perception, which makes it obvious that it differs from reason (as used by rationalists). 

    No school of Indian philosophy, excepting Buddhism, assigned inference a "constructive" function. 

    It is aware of what is otherwise knowable. 

    Perception is always given importance. 

    There are no rationalists in India. 

    Unlike "experience" and "reason" in traditional Western philosophy, neither perception nor inference were used to identify any particular mental capacity. 

    In one instance, perception was the consequence of the same abilities or cognitive tools acting in a different way; in another, inference was the result. 

    I've elaborated on this topic to warn against the tendency to identify close relatives of Western epistemologies in pramana theories. 


    What Is Pramana?

    The words that came before point to another aspect of the pramana ideas. 

    A pramana is the particular cause of a real cognition or irreducible inherently. 

    There are two distinct types of justifications for a pramana not being accepted by a certain school. 

    1. Some Buddhists do not consider inference to be a pramana for this reason: an inferential cognition perceives its object as an instance of a universal rule and not in its uniqueness, and is thus not true to its object's own nature. 
    2. Another reason is that the type of cognition it causes is simply not true cognition. However, there are many more explanations for why a purported pramana is not really one. 

    The Vaisesikas stress that the supposed linguistically created cognition is not of an irreducible kind, but rather reducible to inference. In doing so, they do not dispute the truth of the putative linguistically generated cognition. 


    What Constitutes A Pramana?

    A pramana hypothesis so makes the following three claims: 

    (1) Some cognitions are true, or prama; 

    (2) Some of these true cognitions fall under a type that cannot be reduced to any other type; and 

    (3) True cognitions of such an irreducible type are brought about by a particular collection of causal circumstances. 


    As a result, the pramana theory incorporates a kind of causal theory of knowledge:1 a valid cognition must not only be true to its object (arthavyabhicarin), but it must also be formed correctly, that is, by the proper causes. 

    This may be stated in terms of current philosophy as follows: S has a cognitive state of the type "p" if this cognitive state is true and if it is produced in the appropriate manner. 

    This last explanation in terms of a mental state brings me to the third aspect I want to highlight. 


    Pramanas As Causes And Defenses For Cognitive Experiences.

    The dualism of mind and matter, the subjective and the objective, has divided Western thinking since at least Descartes, in addition to the competing claims of reason and experience. 

    The separation between the private and public is one of the offsprings of the latter division. 

    This has become known as the psychologism issue in more contemporary philosophical thought. 

    The ghost of psychologism has haunted epistemology and theory of logic, and both fields have made efforts to exclude any mention of inner mental states from their language. 

    Pure objectivism, whether of the Platonic or physicalist kind, has been the result. 

    In contrast, Indian epistemologists have openly employed "mentalistic" discourse and haven't given much thought to issues with psychologism, private language, etc. 

    You might just charge them with being uncritically naive. 

    But given their sharpened critical faculties, it is necessary to look elsewhere for the causes. 

    It is generally known that for the majority of Indian philosophers, the mind (if manas is to be interpreted that way) is more of a delicate kind of prakrti or matter, an unconscious inner sense organ, rather than a space for personal experiences. 

    Only the self, or atman, has the ability to "perceive" the thoughts and other experiences that belong to them (if self-manifesting, then so only to the owner). 

    However, it does not necessarily follow that no one else can know them through any of the pramanas other than perception if S is the only one with an internal perception of his experience. 

    Additionally, these episodes have their ideal purposeful contents, which numerically unique episodes belonging to different owners and occurring at various temporal locations may share. 

    This is true even if they are owned by the same person. 

    I've shown in other places how, given this idea of "mental episodes," it is possible to create a logic of cognitions with the proper logical rules for inference. 

    Therefore, discussing a cognitive experience should not raise the specter of psychologizing. 

    The causal story that permeates Indian epistemologies was mentioned earlier. 

    It is now able to take a closer look at it. 

    It has become customary to clearly distinguish between questions of causal origin and questions of epistemic justification, possibly since Kant (quaestio factis). 


    Causal Theory Of Knowledge.

    A causal theory of knowledge has only recently become very popular, but causal theories of knowledge must be able to accommodate justificatory concepts like truth and logical validity. 

    Indian epistemologies might be used as a valuable example in this respect. 

    The pramanas act as both causes and defenses for cognitive episodes, as B. K. Matilal emphasized in his most recent book on perception. 


    This, in my opinion, was made possible by first separating out non-controversial instances of true cognitions from similar instances of false cognitions, searching simultaneously for

    (1) the marks that distinguish the former from the latter, and 

    (2) the distinctive causal conditions that produce the former and not the latter, 

    and finally combining (1) and (2) in the definition of pramana. 


    The causal conditions producing cognitions (of a certain type) and those producing true cognitions (of that type) coincide in theories that view truth as svatah. 

    The logician-cum-epistemologist believes that causal theories are problematic since they are infamously reductionistic. 


    When Causal Theories Suffice.

    According to Indian tradition, which saw them as descriptive and consistent with cognitions' distinctiveness and claim to reality. 

    There are two aspects to this liberalism: first, whereas the causal laws used by Indian epistemologists are formulated in terms of such heterogeneous elements as physical contacts, revived memories, and desires to have a certain kind of knowledge, for example—if needed, even activation of traces of past karma and the pervasive passage of time—reductionist causal laws are physicalistic and oriented to the prevailing physical theory. 

    Second, such a causal story is descriptive rather than explanatory because it is written to conform to the intuitive requirements of a cognitive event rather than to the limitations of an existing physical theory. 

    The general restrictions resembled those of a significant ontological theory. 

    Before moving on to the prameya theory, or ontology, I will only make two more remarks about the pramana theory. 

    In that order, these two comments will address anumana (or inference) and sabda (word). 

    In the secondary literature, it has been extensively discussed how the Indian theory of anumana is nonformal (it tells a story about how inferential cognition arises) and psychological (it requires an instance where the universal major premise is satisfied). 

    Both descriptions are accurate, but unless properly understood, they run the risk of misleading. 

    I've already discussed how Indian thought combined logic and psychology. 

    This viewpoint is well shown by the theory of inference. 

    The reconciliation of psychology and logic was achieved through both the logicization of psychology and the psychologization of logic: 

    the former by assuming that the psychological process of reasoning conforms to the logical (any apparent deviation, such as in allegedly fallacious reasoning, being due to misconstrual of the premises); and the latter by turning logic into a logic of cognitions rather than of propositions. 

    The Indian theory of anumana is not ignorant of formal validity, though. 

    In actuality, a valid Nyaya anumana can be abstracted from a valid mood. 

    The merely formally valid inference, such as in tarka or counterfactuals, was ignored because the focus was on cognitions (rather than sentences or propositions), and anumana as a promana, as a source of true cognition. 

    This brings me to the idea of the word, or sabda, as a pramana, or a source of genuine cognition. 

    The deeper roots and true pillars of the Hindu tradition are actually found here. 

    The Indian epistemologies already have a novel feature in the simple recognition of sabda as a pramana. 

    Perception, reasoning, introspection, and memory are among the types of knowledge that are acknowledged by Western epistemologies. 

    Many philosophers today emphasize the crucial part that language plays in forming our knowledge. 

    But as far as I'm aware, no one regards language—or verbal utterance—as a stand-alone method of learning about the outside world. 

    And yet, how much do we really know only by listening to people, reading books, and other things—not to mention our religious and moral convictions that come from studying the scriptures? Indian epistemologies acknowledged sabda (listening to a competent speaker's utterances) not only as a pramana but also as the key source of our cognitions about all those things that go beyond the bounds of what is feasible for sensory experience. 


    The following are some features of the sabda-pramana theory that I want to highlight. 


    1. First off, sabda, as a pramana, is not just a word; it is a sentence, and that sentence is spoken, not written. 

    Without a doubt, the spoken and the heard take precedence over the written. 

    2. Second, most Indian theorists place more emphasis on imperative than indicative phrases when it comes to language development. 

    The purpose of the sentence utterances is primarily—if not exclusively—to give orders, recommend actions that should be taken or avoided, and other similar tasks, rather than to state facts. 

    3. Thirdly, most Indian theorists adhere to a pure referential theory of meaning (both for words and for sentences) and lack a concept of sense as opposed to reference. 

    (Several individuals have attempted to demonstrate where to look for such a theory of sense since I made this diagnosis 20 years ago. 

    Mark Siderits' attempt is the most convincing of these attempts. 

    I believe my general diagnosis is accurate, even though Siderits is correct in tracing a sort of sense theory to the Buddhist apoha theory.) 


    The difference between understanding and knowing can be blurred in the theory of sabdapramana thanks to a direct referential theory. 

    The Nyaya literature is full of translations of meaningless phrases like "hare's horn," but the real obstacle to the theory is the lack of a tenable explanation for what it means to comprehend a false sentence. 

    If the Naiyayika are to be consistent, abdapramana must be fundamentally true. 

    False sentences are unable to produce understanding (sabdabodha), let alone prama. 

    However, theoretically speaking, sabdabadha and sabdajanyaprama are identical. 

    It is all too clear that this identification creates enormous problems. 


    4. Fourthly, the claim that sabda is an irreducible pramana is most strongly supported in the field of what should and shouldn't be done. 

    If factual facts may potentially be proven by observation or some type of reasoning, it is reasonable to assert that the only way we can know what is right and wrong is through vocal instruction, whether it be written or spoken, from moral authorities, wise people, or the scriptures. 

    The assertion that the sacred, well-known scriptures (the Vedas and the Upanisads) are apauruseya, or that they were not written by any human author, is a significant one that solidly supports tradition. 

    This grants them an authority that no text by a human author could support—one that is free from any possibility of fault and cannot be changed. 

    At the conclusion of this article, I will revisit the idea of "apauruseyatva." 


    Pramana Theories.

    What kinds of prameya theories, or potential sources of true knowledge, did Indian philosophers hold? 

    What can be done at this point, given the wide range of ontologies—from the pluralism of Nyaya-Vaisesika to the monism of Advaita Vedanta—is to call attention to some important aspects of those ontologies. 

    First of all, it should be recognized that these ontologies do not accept any abstract entities of the kind that Western ontologies do. 

    We have Fregean senses (such as propositions), numbers, and universais among the common abstract objects. 

    I've already stated that, in my opinion, there are no fully developed Fregean senses. 

    Numbers are reduced to the characteristics of sets (gunas). 

    Although universals are widespread, they are not the kind of rarefied beings that can only be understood through the use of reason, as they are understood in the Western metaphysical tradition. 

    They are perceived through the same sense organ that their instances are, making them somewhat more concrete entities. 

    There are also no purely hypothetical possibilities. 

    It is not surprising that these last creatures are absent because, contrary to Indian thought, God's mind, which serves as their habitat in Western metaphysical tradition, does not have the ability to create something out of nothing. 

    Some standard concepts of necessary truth and its opposite contingent truth simply cannot find any formulation in the Indian systems due to the lack of possibilia and abstract entities such as propositions. 

    We therefore have descriptions of what the world actually is, but not of what might have been or what might not possibly have been. 

    Remember that the typical expression of vyapti is extensional rather than modal ("It is impossible that..."): "It is never the case that in all those loci where smoke is present, fire is absent." The fact that science and metaphysics have stood sharply apart since the beginning of metaphysics in Aristotle is one reason why the metaphysical scheme in traditional Western metaphysics claimed a sort of necessity over and against those features of the world that the sciences study. 

    According to this argument, metaphysics is not concerned with beings but rather with being quâ being, which is defined in a number of well-known ways (for example, as the highest being, the most general predicates or categories, or the definition of the word "being"). 

    Science and metaphysics are still intertwined in the minds of Indian metaphysicians. 

    Both both out to comprehend how the universe is organized; the main difference is in the generality of their approaches. 


    Advaita Vedanta As An Exception.


    The only exception to this rule is Advaita Vedanta, which holds that since there is only one Being at work beneath all things, metaphysics—if that is what para vidya needs to be called, which is highly dubious—is the study of that Being. 

    If creation from nothing, and thus creation in the strict sense, has no place in Indian thought, then this is not merely a peripheral phenomenon for the darsanas; rather, it determines some very central features of not only the Indian cosmologies but also of the metaphysical concepts of God, substance, time, and negation, as I believe it can be demonstrated. 

    Unfortunately, I am unable to look into that issue at this time. 


    The Pramana-Prameya Structure

    In this final and concluding section, I'd like to discuss the entire pramana-prameya structure, or the philosophical endeavor as it is represented in the darsanas. 

    The Indian philosophers were working on extremely complex philosophical issues, but they weren't explicitly and consciously concentrating on the nature of their work. 

    It is normally in reaction to the skeptical criticisms of a Madhyamika that occasionally they would, while justifying their business, comment on the nature of what they would be doing. 


    Without delving into linguistic specifics, let me mention some of the important points. 


    1. The Madhyamika critique includes an ontology critique in addition to an epistemology critique. 

    The critic argues that they are dependent on one another. 

    Without first deciding what needs to be known, you cannot determine what the pramanas are. 

    And until you have the knowledge necessary on hand, you cannot answer the second question. 

    So where do you start? Why not abandon the whole endeavor if the cycle cannot be broken?

     

    2. In response to this challenge, the pramana-prameya theorist has stated, in brief, that it assumes an unnecessarily strong reading of the unity of the two parts of a darsana. 

    A pramana's relationship to its prameya is not one-to-one. 

    More than one pramana can have knowledge of the same thing. 

    Consider the Nyaya and the Vaisesika for an example of how one and the same ontology system can be made to work with various epistemologies. 

    By defining both and creating a many-one or one-many relation between terms on each side, it is possible to overcome the mutual dependence that jeopardizes the relationship between cognition and object in general. 


    3. According to (2), a darsana is not a seamless whole that cannot have portions removed from the context of that system. 

    My interpretation conflicts with the traditionalists' interpretation, which treats each darsana as a distinct viewpoint. 

    The Russian immigrant David Zilberman held this comprehensive view of a darsana, which I reject here. 

    His untimely death was a serious loss to Indian philosophy. 

     

    4. Although it is not stated explicitly, practice suggests that this is frequently the case, the reflective question of what kind of knowledge a philosophical system itself yields (or amounts to) and whether it can be appropriated into one or more of the pramanas recognized by the system was chosen. 

    The reason was a failure to recognize that philosophical knowledge is a type of knowledge that is, quâ knowledge, distinct from the types of knowledge that are thematized within the system. 

    This was already alluded to earlier. 

    In light of the purely referential theory of meaning, an alternative solution that would have involved drawing a distinction between understanding and knowing (where philosophy produces understanding but not knowledge) was not feasible. 

    The knowledge of brahman is such that both the knowledge and the entity of which it is knowledge are thematized within the system, according to the Vedantin, who claims that this knowledge leads to moksa. 

    What kind of cognition is meant when the Nyaya Stra claims that understanding the sixteen padarthas results in the highest good? Are there one or more pramanas involved? It appears that the answer is "yes." 

     

    5. Students of the darsanas frequently ponder where the framework (the list of pramanas and prameyas) that the later authors continued to refine was derived by the early masters, the authors of the stras and Bhasyas. 

    It does not allay that anxiety to say that they elaborated a way of seeing using the verbal root "drs" (= to see). 

    In any case, it is untrue that the later writers merely improved and clarified the framework put forth by the forefathers. 

    The more typical answer was to trace the framework back to the sruti, although they did tweak and modify it within reasonable bounds (which also argues against a strong holistic interpretation of the darsanas) (the heard texts with no human author). 

    Think about the intellectual phenomenon whereby philosophical systems as different as Vedanta and Nyaya claimed sruti affiliation. 


    So how should the nature of sabdapramana be understood in order to make sense of this paradoxical situation? 

    The nature of sabdapramana as applied to sruti should, in my opinion, be understood for this purpose in a way that is implicit in the tradition's understanding of itself but is not explicitly stated as such. 

    In my interpretation of the function of sruti in relation to philosophies, I deviate from the conventional wisdom in this area. 

    The sruti's apauruseyatva does not, in my opinion, imply that the texts are not composed at all or that they represent some extraordinary, mystical experience. 

    Not the first, both because there is sufficient internal evidence that the texts were written and because a literal interpretation would be absurd. 

    Not the second, because in my opinion, sentences express thoughts rather than experiences. 

    Although this is not the appropriate time, I would like to defend the last thesis. 

    Setting aside these two frequently accepted views, I want to offer the following. 

    First, considering the authors' intentions is completely irrelevant and useless when attempting to understand the sruti texts. 

    Insofar as they are readily available to us and serve to define the tradition for us, the texts, or the words themselves, are primary. 

    We interpret those words by using them to describe our experiences, the outside world, and ourselves. 

    While conventional wisdom assigns the sruti's words whatever meaning it deems appropriate, I leave room for interpretation. 

    It is this fluidity of meaning, this unending potential of interpretation, the ongoing challenge they offer to us, which sets the words of the sruti apart from those of smrti . 

    They are fundamental not because they represent facts which are unassailable, but because they describe the framework within which the Hindu philosophers posed questions, comprehended their concerns, and judged their replies. 

    In this sense, sabda (like sruti) is not itself a pramana , but underlying the latter's uses. 

    Apauruseyasruti is not the highest pramana , infallible and risen above all the others. 

    Instead, it is the origin of all questions and worries (source, not solution) for which the various pramanas show a unique philosophical relevance. 

    So, who is adopting that tradition in their thinking? My response is that sharing the concerns as sources of philosophical issues is what is required, not thinking traditionally or adhering to any or all of the schools' responses. 

    Thus, rather than defining the tradition in terms of beliefs, I describe it in terms of concerns.


    ~Kiran Atma




    Hinduism - What Is Upadhi?

     



     (“obstruction”) A counterexample in Indian logic that invalidates an inference (anumana) by demonstrating that the reason (hetu) given as evidence for the initial assertion (sadhya) is not always true.

    Because of the counterexample of the red-hot iron ball, which was regarded fiery but not smoky, the conclusion that "there is smoke because there is fire" was deemed incorrect.

    Because the red-hot iron ball was part of a class of flaming objects that didn't smoke, it demonstrated that the reason for the inference didn't account for every occurrence of the item to be proven (sadhya)—raising the potential that there were more.

    This invalid inference fails the pervasion (vyapti) requirement, which states that the reason must account for every possible case; this is critical for inference validity.

    Needless to say, finding such counterexamples was an important aspect of Indian logic, since one such example may be used to refute an opponent's argument.

    See Karl H. Potter (ed. ), Presuppositions of India's Philosophies, 1972, for more information and elaboration.

    ~Kiran Atma


    You may also want to read more about Hinduism here.

    Be sure to check out my writings on religion here.


    Shall there be Evil in the City? A Cross Cultural Examination of Evil

     


    Shall there be evil in a city, and the Lord hath not done it? 

    ~ Amos, The Christian Bible



    The word theodicy comes from the Greek theos, which means heaven, and dike, which means justice; it was popularized by Leibniz, who used it to describe God's justice in the face of evil.

    A succinct summary of theodicy's implications: If God is wonderful in every way. He must desire to eradicate all evil; if He is all-powerful, He must be able to do so; but, because evil exists, then God is not perfectly good, or He is not all-powerful. C. S. Lewis stresses the lack of happiness rather than the existence of bad in a similar definition: If God were fair, He would desire to make His people absolutely happy, and if God were almighty, He would be free to do whatever He wanted. The animals, on the other hand, are not content. Therefore, God is either deficient in goodness or force, or both. It might seem that theodicy is only an issue in religions that believe in a single, all-powerful deity. If this is the case, the issue of evil may be addressed by embracing one of three alternatives to benevolent monotheism: either no soul beyond the world, a spirit oblivious to good and evil, or an evil spirit.

    In polytheism, where good and evil deities have their own spheres of authority, in Zoroastrianism, where [there are two forces], one benevolent but not strong, the other powerful but not benevolent, or in the Indian philosophy of karma, which dispenses with god entirely, no basic logical contradiction need exist. A theodicy is theoretically expected in any religion in which any deity is believed to be invariably benevolent and omnipotent, though it is most generally found in monotheistic religions. The word "theodicy" refers to the existential desire to justify misery and evil, and Talcott Parsons describes how such a theodicy emerges from events like premature death: Weber sought to demonstrate that issues like these, including the misalignment of natural human interests and desires in every case and culture with what currently occurs, are implicit in the essence of human life.

    They pose problems of the first order that have become known as the dilemma of bad, the sense of pain, and the like on a broad scale. The key modes of divergence between the great systems of religious thought are differences in the treatment of exactly certain problems. Not only is theodicy not exclusive to monotheism, but it is also the touchstone of all faiths, and it is an existential rather than a religious question, according to this perspective. A concept of theodicy that includes non-monotheistic religions: A theodicy occurs where a faith struggles scientifically to justify human misfortune or fortune considering its scheme of values. Theodicy is seen as a philosophical dilemma rather than a psychological one in this context; theories that struggle to justify misery or that contain logically untenable inconsistencies incite theodicy in this context.

    However, as we can see, theology, logic, and psychology cannot be completely removed from the theodicy battlefield. A theodicy cannot be resolved in the strictest sense. Any effort to overcome the cognitive or philosophical impasse raised by any theodicy is referred to as resolution. Where logic and theology collapse, other forms of religious thought—notably mythology—offer nonsensical resolutions, which, if psychologically satisfying, are suitable to adherents of the religion, however insufficient they might seem to trained philosophers. Where logic and theology collapse, other forms of religious thought—notably mythology—offer nonsensical resolutions, which, if psychologically satisfying, are suitable to adherents of the religion, however insufficient they might seem to trained philosophers.

    Three requirements for a satisfactory solution were developed after an exhaustive analysis of Western and Indian theodicy: common sense, accuracy, and completeness. Any approach that rejects God's beauty, omniscience, or benevolence, or the presence of evil, is a phoney one.- Hindu myths do, on occasion, refute any or more of these hypotheses, but they cannot be seen to have a rational answer. The classical solutions can be categorized into five main divisions, each with twenty-one subcategories: aesthetic or the entire is good because, or even if, the pieces are not; the principle of discipline or misery creates character; free will or bad is man's fault; delusion or evil is merely an illusion; and restriction or God's preference at the time of creation was minimal. He subsumes the arguments of contrast, recompense, and imbalance or good outweighs evil; teleology; justice and rebirth; privation or evil is merely the absence of good; and the concepts of prevention or our evils are essential to prevent greater evils, the impersonal wicked substance or evil matter, the personal wicked substance or Satan, metaphysical evil or the impeachment of God.

    All of these are mentioned in Hindu mythology in some way. Every single one of them has a mistake. It's helpful to consider the numerous concerns that come from three forms of evil: superhuman, or gods, powers, and fallen angels, human, and subhuman, which includes animals and plants. The classification into another triad is more important: spiritual evil, or sin; misery, or teleological evil, which is often more divided into ordinary and exceptional suffering; and natural evil, or death, or illness. The ethical thesis or God is good, the omnipotent thesis, and the omniscient thesis are the three philosophical theories of the issue of evil; either one of these may be paired with the hypothesis of the nature of evil without contradiction, but issues emerge when this hypothesis is combined with any two or more imaginary properties of Deity. The Hindu Vedantists propose the most satisfying theodicy, which sufficiently accounts for all three kinds of evil, or superhuman, mortal, and subhuman, absolving God of all guilt by the hypothesis of lila, the playful spirit in which God becomes interested in creation: After all, who would fault a kid for behaving joyfully and exuberantly? The solution is simple: the Hindus, since the Vedantic argument did not put a stop to Indian efforts to solve the issue.

    In India, there is a problem with evil. Despite the fact that all of the theses required to produce the theological issue of evil can be found in Indian metaphysical and religious literature, with many fascinating variants, and despite the fact that all three theological theses have been embraced and challenged, defended and targeted, the Indians are curiously quiet about the problem of evil, a problem that has afflicted Western culture. In all its metaphysical manifestations, classical and mediaeval Indian philosophy has shown no regard for the issue of evil. When a problem of evil arises, it manifests as a functional problem of bad, i.e. when one claims that everything is misery and that samsara [the cycle of rebirth] is evil in and of itself. When the subject of evil is brought up in older texts, it is more like an afterthought, or it appears secondarily in the sense of Who made the world? We attribute the strange silence in part to the satisfying existence of the rebirth doctrine's approach.

    According to the Indian viewpoint, the issue of Job cannot emerge because hardship can often be the result of actions taken not only in this life, but in previous lives as well. However, as we can see, not all Hindus found the theory of regeneration to be fully acceptable, and many did not accept it at all. The secondary occurrences of the problem of suffering—the problem of Job—in texts about the origins of the universe form a large body of literature on which this work is based. The misconception that Indians were unaware of the issue of evil is pervasive. According to Alan Watts, there is no Problem of Evil in Hindu thought, and a Hindu scholar agrees: Hinduism is unconcerned about the Problem of Evil. Similarly, it is often asserted that India has no sense of evil. In India, not only was there no dispute between good and bad, but there was also a lot of misunderstanding. He proposed an explanation for the confusion: many demons are said to have earned their supernatural prowess by good deeds done in previous lives. To put it another way, good may be used to construct bad. Both examples are simply popularized versions of the basic Indian belief that good and bad have no sense or purpose outside of the realm of appearances.

    This propensity to conflate good with bad, according to Sir Charles Eliot, is an inherent trait of pantheism, which finds it difficult to differentiate and denounce evil. Such statements are commonly founded on Vedantic Hinduism and Buddhism, which are more concerned with ignorance than with sin, valuing goodness only as an addition to wisdom, in which the philosophic saint rises above all good and evil; and many variations of Indian religion consider misery rather than sin as the world's fault.

    These views, however, do not extend to most of the Puranic Hinduism. The idea that evil is unreal in Indian thinking is another basis of the assertion that Indians do not have a problem with evil. False, in India, there is no such thing as maya [illusion], asat [nonexistence], or reality. The dilemma of evil is a fictitious one, and the brahmin treats it as fictitious problems should be treated. The counterargument is that, even though many Vedantists believed evil was objectively unreal, misery was still subjectively recognized as true. Evil, pain, waste, terror, and paranoia are real enough from the other Indian point of view—the same affective strain that denies the consequences of karma.

    Therefore, there is a context in which evil exists, as well as a sense in which karma and rebirth occur. The action and care of the faithful betray the dogma of unreality. Philosophers and theologians can create rational requirements but building and approving a logical response to an emotional question is challenging.

    The death of a young child is the most common example of exceptional evil offered in Indian texts. When one tells this child's parents, "You aren't actual, and neither is your son; thus, you can't really be hurting," one is unlikely to have any consolation. Such statements as "God can't stop it" or "God doesn't know about it" will not make the suffering go away. Only the ethical theory is emotionally non-essential: God isn't good, or God doesn't want man to be free of bad, or two very opposite arguments. And this is the line that Hindu mythological theodicy is most vigorously developing.

    Even a meaningful world order that is impersonal and supertheistic must face the problem of the earth's imperfections, according to Max Weber, who, while giving the doctrine of karma pride of place among the world's theodicies, remarked: "All Hindu religion was affected by [the problem of theodicy]; even a practical world order that is impersonal and supertheistic must face the problem of the world's imperfections." A very early example of an explicit declaration of the dilemma of God's evil-justice  can be found in a Buddhist text that mocks Hinduism's inability to grapple with the issue: Why doesn't Brahma straighten out the universe, which is so jumbled and out of whack? If he is the absolute ruler of the whole universe. Why did Brahma, Lord of the Many Born, ordain misfortune in the entire world? Why didn't he want to make everybody happy?

    Why did he create the universe based on deceit [maya], lies, and excess, as well as inequality [adharma]? Unjust is the king of beings. Though there is such a thing as dharma, he wanted adharma. On a village level, the issue of evil is still an important aspect of contemporary Hinduism, where the cult assumes the presence of a dominant god or Vishnu, Siva, or Brahma, who, while not all-powerful or all-kind in the monotheistic sense, has enough strength and love to assist humanity in their search for redemption, and to grant the worldly desires of his devotees. Theodicy is present in mythology from the Buddhist text to the present day, not only indirectly in the legends, but also explicitly in the questions asked by the sages to whom the myths are told: Why is there death? How could God do anything so heinous? What is the root of evil? The fact that many myths are about minor deities of an extravagantly anthropomorphic kind, ridiculous clowns who perform numerous peccadilloes of the kind infamous in the affairs of Zeus and Loki, has led scholars to mistakenly refute the existence of theodicy in Indian religion.

    This has helped to obscure the idea that there is a far more extreme mythology in which the deity commits cosmically important bad deeds. As C. G. Jung put it, "Of course, we cannot overwhelm an ancient deity with the demands of contemporary ethics." Things were very different for the inhabitants of early antiquity. There was simply everything about their gods: virtues and vices abound. As a result, they could be fined, imprisoned, duped, and pitted against one another without losing face, at least not for long. The man of that age had been so used to biblical inconsistencies that he was unconcerned as they arose. This is a fair definition of Indra in the Puranic era and of Siva in some Vaisnava myths, but it is not true when applicable to Indra in the Vedic period or Siva in Saiva myths; these gods do indeed have anything, but the worshipper is disturbed by the consequences, as the myths clearly indicate. Theodicy myths are prevalent in India; they do not seem to emerge or propagate during times of social, political, or economic upheaval. The solutions can adjust, but the dilemma remains the same.

    According to the Oxford English Dictionary, bad or adj. is the opposite of GOOD. The noun now seldom used is that which is the opposite of good, either physically or morally, and the second quoted example is the strongest of all mysteries-the root of bad, or Tait & Stewart. Unlike its English counterpart, the Sanskrit word papa can be used as an adjective or a verb, and it signifies both physical and moral non-goodness. However, Christian theology has long stressed the difference between moral evil, or evil that comes from us as humans: inhuman, unfair, malicious, and sinful thoughts and acts, and inherent evil, or evil that comes from outside of us, in disease, bacilli, earthquakes, storm, droughts, tornadoes, etc..

    This has resulted in an erroneous distinction being made between primitive religions, which are mainly concerned with the elimination of natural evils, and higher religions, which are concerned with sin. These two types of evil are scientifically distinct in Indian religions, but they are manifestations of a common entity for which a single interpretation must be found. People are evil-minded; adultery is evil; incest is evil. In the Rig Veda, papa, or henceforth to be translated as evil, also has a religious sense. People can do or carry out evil, which we can interpret as committing a sin. However, in Indian philosophy, sin will appear without the sinner's consent, so personal repentance is uncommon, and one can pray for deliverance from sins committed by others in the same manner as one can pray for sins committed by himself. As a result, the Rig Vedic poet prays to the gods, "O gods, deliver us today from both committed and uncommitted sin; both are sinful." Similarly, the Atharva Veda makes a distinction between natural and spiritual evil, but sees them as inextricably linked: Sleep, fatigue, and misery—these divinities are known as evils—and old age, baldness, and greyness invaded the body.

    Then came fraud, evil deeds, deception, truth, sacrifice, glory, and wealth. This conflation of natural and spiritual evil is aided by the Indian propensity to treat sin as an intellectual error rather than a character defect. Since the intellectual can't make a deliberate mistake, he can just make mistakes based on incomplete knowledge or misunderstandings that aren't his responsibility. Wrongdoing is not a sin, even though it is unfortunate. If bad is not the result of man's fault, karma would not be able to fix the dilemma. Some Rig Vedic hymns to Varuna, Tamil Saivism poetry, and a Sanskrit verse still recited by many sophisticated Hindus today are striking extraordinary examples of a real sense of sin and redemption in Hinduism: Evil am I, evil are my actions... However, cases of sin due to natural causes outnumber these by a thousand fold. Evil isn't so much what we do as it is what we don't want to happen to us. The which we do is the product of illusion, moha, or deceit, or maya. These illusions and deceptions are created by God. As a result, we are once again compelled to reject the ethical hypothesis that God is not good.

    In Hindu mythology, there is a fight between good and evil. There seem to be two clear explanations why a book about the issue of evil in Hindu mythology should not be written: Indologists have long claimed that there is no problem of evil in Indian thought, and philosophers believe that the issue belongs in philosophy or theology rather than mythology. However, neither Indologists nor philosophers can be taken too seriously, and I believe these two objections balance each other out: scholars have ignored the issue of evil in Indian thought because they have tried it in philosophy rather than mythology.

    In contrast to the nuanced claims of Hindu theologians, the theodicy established in Hindu mythology demonstrates a more popular, general, and spontaneous attitude toward evil. Furthermore, the myths are much more provocative and original than the textual discussions: Theologians seldom create high-quality poems or artwork. Their dogmatism limits their view of life's contradictory and ambivalent aspects. They lack cynicism and the perilous purity, candid and childlike, which are fundamental criteria for someone concerned with theories, or this is a product of their preparation. They lack or, and this is their virtue, their responsibility, the touch of amorality that must be at least a part of one's intellectual and intuitive pattern if one is not to succumb to predetermined prejudice and be cut off from some critical, highly ironic, and troubling insights. Since the main body of Hindu mythology—the mediaeval Puranas—was collected by Brahmins with extensive theological expertise, some of these texts devolve into the narrow-minded diatribes envisioned.

    Some writings, on the other hand, climb to the level of myth, giving a more simple and childlike approach to the issue of evil. In protection of their sacred ground, theologians have a response: Biblical myths are not generally suited to problem-solving. Their aim is to illuminate the religious meaning of any current or recalled reality or experience by unforgettable imagery. However, the experience the myth highlights and illuminates are the source of mystery in and of itself. The approach suffered from fundamental incoherence and inconsistencies as this pictorial representation of the problem was wrongly viewed as a solution to it. But, where the problem is fundamentally inconsistent, as theodicy is, this pictorial depiction of the problem is a great achievement; the theologian needs answers, but the myth is happy to wonder, like Gertrude Stein, what is the question? Furthermore, the myth's very forcefulness, or even crudeness, may be its greatest strength; William James, describing the deep melancholy and terror of the suffering sick soul, suggested that the deliverance must come in as strong a form as the complaint, if it is to take effect; and that seems to be a reason why the coarser religions, revivalist, orgiastic, with blood and miracles and supernatural occurrences, seem to be the most effective.

    When faced with the orgiastic and cruel gods of primitive Tantrism, the Upanisads' intellectual pessimism and melancholy culminated in the Puranic Hinduism's integrated theodicy. Another anti-mythological claim argues that myths about gods and spirits have little influence on the study of human suffering. This is complete and utter nonsense. Myths are not written by gods and demons; they are written by man and about man. The problems of the virtuous demon and the evil god are the problems of greedy low-caste men and sinful kings; the problems of the virtuous demon and the wicked god are the problems of ambitious low-caste men and sinful kings. No nation has ever had as many human gods as India, according to Sir James George Frazer; the demons are much more human and are clearly said to reflect human desires.

    Jung has made a strong case for myth's specific, truthful, and human nature: Myth is not fiction; it is made up of observations that are repeatedly replicated and can be observed. It's something that happens to humans, and guys, like Greek heroes, have mythical fates. The root theories of evil tend to be about origins, but they also contain a concern about the present situation. The pseudo-historical structure is merely a metaphor for metaphysical theories about the relationship between good and bad, gods and men, and the person and society. The myth elucidates the essence of evil with the use of a made-up origin story. Philosophical strategies are necessary but not sufficient; myths presuppose and often dismiss them.

    Philosophy provides the language in which the questions can be stated; myth is founded on philosophical principles, but it is then guided by a commonsense reasoning that rejects the Vedantins' more complex answers in favor of a more straightforward response, illuminated by the coarse ceremonial imagery that philosophy scorns. Myth is a two-way mirror that allows ritual and philosophy to see each other. It's the point at which people who are usually engrossed in their daily routines are faced with questions that they had previously left to the bickering of philosophers; and it's the point at which philosophers, too, come to terms with the deeper, flesh-and-blood dimensions of their philosophical inquiries.

    Methodological Notes: I explored different methods of research in a review of Saiva mythology and ended up using a slightly changed structuralist approach because it seemed relevant to the issue. The issue of evil does not readily lend itself to a structuralist solution, perhaps because too many of its jagged dimensions prove stubbornly irreducible, perhaps because it is almost always interpreted in logical rather than symbolic terms, even though symbolism is suitable to some aspects of it, or perhaps because it is almost always viewed in conceptual rather than symbolic terms, or perhaps because symbolism is appropriate to certain aspects of it.

    So, like a monkey piling up complicated science gadgets into a miscellaneous heap in order to pluck the banana from the top of the cage, I've used any method that would do the job-a bit of philology, a measure of theology, lashings of comparative religion, a soupcon of anthropology, even a splash of psychoanalysis-I've used any tool that would do the job-a bit of philology, a measure of theology, I believe that, despite the fact that I might have mishandled the specialist's machinery, I have not harmed or embarrassed it. My only justification for this undisciplined trespass is that it seems to succeed, allowing me to access at least some of the answers I've been looking for. I've sometimes drawn on myths documented by anthropologists familiar with the religions of Indian tribal groups, in addition to the classical Sanskrit texts on the subject. Even though this work varies greatly from the Puranas in many ways, the two traditions can be considered adjacent, if not contiguous; certainly, there has been considerable borrowing in both directions. This continuity between his materials and those of the Sanskrit tradition has been noted by Verrier Elwin, who has published many important analyses of tribal mythology.

    Since these tribal myths were all written within the last two centuries, they are likely to include signs of Christian missionary influence. However, those influences are typically evident, and the consensus between tribal and Puranic mythology is striking. I used some comparisons from Greek and Judeo-Christian myths. Theologians and comparative mythology scholars don't need me to point out the native varieties emerging in their own backyards, and for Indologists, it's probably best to simply point out that many Hindu ideas still appear outside of India, as the biblical quotations here show, rather than including a sketch of non-Indian myths out of context. It would be awkwardly pedantic to avoid referencing such concepts, such as the Fall or the Disappearance of the Golden Age, since they are so automatically evocative of their Western associations; however, these passing references are not intended to substitute for a rigorous comparative analysis. Indeed, it is my sincere hope that the current study will serve as raw material for a single aspect of such a cross-cultural examination, the Hindu facet, possibly in combination with analyses of the Western approach to the issue of evil such as those by John Bowker, John Hick, C. G. Jung, C. S Lewis, and Paul Ricoeur. I discovered that even without the comparative content, the Hindu texts alone offered an embarrassment of riches.

    The final objection to the historical approach stems from the fact that Hindu mythology does not follow a straightforward progression; archaic ideas reappear in later sources, frequently in direct conflict with later concepts. This is partly due to the Indian habit of preserving the old and merely introducing new innovations, such as Victorian wings added to Georgian buildings, but it may also mean a fundamental reluctance to dismiss any potential solution to the issue of bad. Nonetheless, some general historical patterns can be discerned, and I've highlighted these where it seems most fitting. To begin, I must admit that I chose my materials in a violently Procrustean manner. If the devil can quote scripture, certainly a scholar can do the same by quoting only certain passages that grant the devil his due when portraying god in a negative way. I see myself squarely on the side of the ghosts, who have previously gone unrepresented in Indological research.

    Of course, many Indian scriptures portray the gods as good and the demons as evil—a va sans dire—and a book based on these texts will be neither difficult to compose nor fascinating to read—a consideration that hasn't stopped a host of scholars from rewriting it over and over. The reader is supposed to conclude that Hindus believe their gods are good and their demons are bad; based on this chain of half-truths, I have set out to fix the imbalance by stating the less apparent corollary—that the gods are neither good nor evil in any consistent or relevant context of these crucial terms. I would also admit that this thesis has another flaw. South Indian Tamil texts are a world unto themselves, containing religious tracts and local myths that address the issue of evil in ways that are diametrically opposed to the attitudes prevalent in the Sanskrit texts on which my work is based, mostly from the North Indian tradition.

    The first of these emerges as a tentative solution in many Hindu scriptures, but the theories of the Collapse eventually accuse destiny rather than man, a logically coherent theory that is ultimately rejected: it is not emotionally rewarding, and it bypasses the basic components of theodicy. Most Hindus tend to assume that God is above destiny, that he intentionally or unwillingly programmed evil into his creation. Furthermore, the collapse of Manichean dualism, as well as the assumption that certain devils were benevolent rather than bad, relegated the blame to the gods. The compassionate intentions of the deity who understood the need of evil had been replaced by the malevolent needs of demonic gods who forced their own evil over all good and evil demons and men without prejudice. However, in bhakti philosophy, though God is still responsible for evil, he is once again benevolent, and it is then up to the person man to overcome the issue of his own evil within himself. These different approaches to the issue, which in other religions may have been removed or at least changed to strike a single theological tone, are all maintained in Hinduism in a rich chord of unresolved harmony. 

     

    Note: This essay is an excerpt from a work being compiled. 

     


    Hinduism - What Is Laghava In Hindu/Indian Philosophy?


    Laghava is a Sanskrit word that means "simplicity." One of the basic concepts in forming and following an argument in Indian logic.

    When faced with two equally plausible theories, one should select the one that is easiest to comprehend and contains the fewest assumptions, according to the "simplicity" concept.

    The validity of the argument is the most important factor to consider while analyzing it.

    Only once this has been accomplished can one make arguments based on complication or simplicity. 


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    Hinduism - What Is A Vicious Circle In Hindu Philosophy?

     



    One of the fallacies to avoid while building an argument in Indian logic.

    When a succession of events happens in a cause-and-effect relationship, with any one of them acting as both cause and effect, a vicious loop is formed.

    When "a" causes "b," and "b" causes "c," "x" causes "a" (somewhere down the line).


    ~Kiran Atma


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    Hinduism - What Is Infinite Regress Or Anumana In Hindu Philosophy?

     


    One of the fallacies to avoid while building an argument in Indian logic.

    An infinite regress is not just an endless sequence, but also one in which there is no ultimate reason for it to occur or not.

    The guy who tells the philosopher that the world is supported on the back of a big tortoise is a classic Western illustration of an endless regress.

    "Another turtle," the guy says when asked what sustained the tortoise.

    Several identical questions get the same response, until the guy finally exclaims, "It's no use trying to fool me—tortoises it's all the way down!" 

    The infinite regress fallacy is considered as an expanded version of the self-residence fallacy in India, and both are equally unacceptable.


    Expand On Anumana here.

     

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    Pratijna

     

     (“assertion”) A portion in Indian logic that takes the form of an inference (anumana), or logical assertion.

    An inference is defined by three terms: an assertion (pratijna), a rationale (hetu), and instances (examples) (drshtanta).

    Each of these three components has its own set of constituents.

    The paksha and the sadhya are the two constituent elements of the pratijna.

    The paksha is the assertion's topic and refers to a category of objects, while the sadhya is the claim to be proved concerning that category.

    The paksha (category of objects concerning which a claim is made) in the statement "this mountain is on fire" is "this mountain," and the sadhya (item to be demonstrated) is "is on fire." 

    Hinduism - What Is Reciprocal Dependence In Hindu Philosophy?

     


    Reciprocal Dependence is a fallacy in Indian logic that should be avoided while building an argument.

    Reciprocal reliance arises when two objects are mutually dependent—when A is dependent on B, and B is dependent on A.

    This is seen as a more serious example of self-residence, and it is as unacceptable.


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    Self-Residence

     

    Self-Residence - One of the fallacies in developing an argument in Indian logic is Self-Residence.

     When the cause and effect are seen to be the same, self residence happens.

    Although the most basic versions of this fallacy are rarely never encountered because they are so obviously false, expanded varieties such as reciprocal reliance, vicious cycle, and endless regress may be found.

    Hinduism - What Is Tarka In Hindu Philosophy?

     

    ("reasoning") Tarka is the form of argument in Indian logic that focuses on the detection and classification of fallacies.

    When employed in debate, tarka is used to discredit an opponent's position, either by reducing it to absurdity, by demonstrating that the argument fails to meet sufficient criteria, or by demonstrating that it contains an error that makes the argument unworkable.

    ~Kiran Atma


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    Hinduism - What Does Gaurava Mean In Hindu Philosophy?

     

    "[needless] complexity," - One of the flaws to avoid in formulating and following an argument in Indian logic.

    When presented with two equally plausible theories, one should pick the one that is easiest to comprehend and contains the fewest assumptions, according to the concept of "simplicity" (laghava).

    The validity of the argument itself is the basic criterion in assessing any argument, and it is only after this has been satisfied that one may offer objections based on complexity or simplicity. 


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    Hinduism - What Is Vaisheshika In Hindu Philosophy?

     

    ("characteristics noting") One of the six schools of traditional Hindu philosophy, and a school devoted to the clarification of physics and metaphysics in particular.

    The Vaisheshika examination of the universe's categories was eventually united with the Nyayas' emphasis on logic to produce the Nyaya Vaisheshika school, commonly referred to as the Naiyayikas.

    The Vaisheshika school was atomistic, believing that everything is made up of a few fundamental constituents, and this atomism was at the heart of the school's metaphysics.

    The Vaisheshikas were realists in philosophy, believing that the universe was made up of many separate objects that were exactly as they were seen, save in circumstances of perceptual mistake.

    They thought that everything was made up of nine essential sub-stances: the five elements, space, time, mind, and Selves, and that everything that existed could be known and named.

    The Vaisheshikas believed in the asatkaryavada causal model, which said that when anything was generated, it was a wholly new aggregate, distinct from its constituent components.

    Because each act of creation creates a new object, this causal model tends to increase the number of things in the universe.

    It also acknowledges that human efforts and acts are one of the factors determining these outcomes, implying that it is theoretically possible to behave in a manner that leads to eventual soul liberation (moksha).

    The objects of experience may be classified into six categories, according to the Vaisheshika analysis: substances, qualities, activity, universals, particulars, and inherence (samavaya); some later Vaisheshikas add a seventh category, absences.

    The first three categories are perceptible, whereas the others must be inferred; yet, the notion of inherence is important to their philosophy.

    Inherence is the subtle glue that holds all of the pieces of the universe together: wholes and parts, substances and qualities, movements and the entities that move, generic traits with specific examples, and, most importantly, pleasure and suffering to the Self.

    The philosophical concerns with inherence, especially the idea that it was a single principle rather than a collection of objects, gave them tremendous trouble and led to the formation of the Navyanyaya school, which sought to explain these links in a more nuanced manner.

    Indian Philosophical Analysis, edited by Karl H. Potter and Sibajiban Bhattacharyya, was published in 1992, and A Sourcebook in Indian Philosophy, edited by Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan and Charles A. Moore, was published in 1957.

    ~Kiran Atma


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