Says Açvaghoṣa in his Awakening of Faith (p. 75): “In the All-Conserving Soul (Âlaya) Ignorance obtains, and from non-enlightenment [thus produced] starts that which sees, that which represents, that which apprehends an objective world, and that which constantly particularises.” Here we have the evolution of the Garbha in its psychological manifestation; in other words, we have here the evolution of the Âlayavijñâna. When the Garbha or Âlaya comes under the influence of birth-and-death (samsâra), it no longer retains its primeval indifference or sameness (samatâ); but there come to exist that which sees (viṣayin) and that which is seen (viṣaya), a mind and an objective world. From the interaction of these two forms of existence, we have now before our eyes the entire panorama of the universe swiftly and noiselessly moving with its never-tiring steps. A most favorite simile with Buddhists to illustrate these incessant activities of the phenomenal world, is to compare them to the waves that are seen forever rolling in a boundless ocean, while the body of waters which make up the ocean is compared to Suchness, and the wind that stirs up the waves to the principle of birth-and-death or ignorance which is the same thing. So we read in the Lankâvatâra Sûtra:
“Like unto the ocean-waves,
Which by a raging storm maddened
Against the rugged precipice strike
Without interruption;
Even so in the Alaya-sea
Stirred by the objectivity-wind
All kinds of mentation-waves
Arise a-dancing, a-rolling.”[60]
But all the psychical activities thus brought into full view, should not be conceived as different from the Mind (citta) itself. It is merely in the nature of our understanding that we think of attributes apart from their substance, the latter being imagined to be in possession and control of the former. There is, however, in fact no substance per se, independent of its attributes, and no attributes detached from that which unites them. And this is one of the fundamental conceptions of Buddhism, that there is no soul-in-itself considered apart from its various manifestations such as imagination, sensation, intellectuation, etc. The innumerable ripples and waves and billows of mentation that are stirred in the depths of the Tathâgata-Garbha, are not things foreign or external to it, but they are all particular expressions of the same essence, they are working out its immanent destiny. So continues the Lankâvatâra Sûtra:
“The saline crystal and its red-bluishness,
The milky sap and its sweetness,
Various flowers and their fruits,
The sun and the moon and their luminosity:
These are neither separable nor inseparable.
As waves are stirred in the water,
Even so the seven modes of mentation
Are awakened in the Mind and united with it.
When the waters are troubled in the ocean,
We have waves that roll each in its own way:
So with the Mind All-Conserving.
When stirred, therein diverse mentations arise:
Citta, Manas, and Manovijñâna.
These we distinguish as attributes,
In substance they differ not from each other;
For they are neither attributing nor attributed.
The sea-water and the waves,
One varies not from the other:
It is even so with the Mind and its activities;
Between them difference nowhere obtains.
Citta is karma-accumulating,
Manas reflects an objective world,
Manovijñâna is the faculty of judgment,
The five Vijñânas are the differentiating senses.”[61]
The Manas.
The Âlayavijñâna which is sometimes, as in the preceding quotations, simply called citta (mind), is, as such, no more than a state of Suchness, allowing itself to be influenced by the principle of birth-and-death, i.e., by Ignorance; and there has in it taken place as yet no “awakening” or “stirring up” (vṛtti), from which results a consciousness. When the Manas is evolved, however, we have a sign of mentality thereby set in motion, for the Manas, according to the Mahâyânists, marks the dawn of consciousness in the universe.
The Manas, deriving its reason of consciousness from the Citta or Âlaya, reflects on it as well as on an external world, and becomes conscious of the distinction between me and not-me. But since this not-I or external world is nothing but an unfoldment of the Âlaya itself, the Manas must be said really to be self-reflecting, when it discriminates between subject and object. If the Âlaya is not yet conscious of itself, the Manas is, as the latter comes to realise the state of self-awareness. The Âlaya is perhaps to be compared in a sense to the Kantian “ego of transcendental apperception”; while the Manas is the actual center of self-consciousness. But the Manas and the Âlaya (or Citta) are not two different things in the sense that one emanates from the other or that one is created by the other. It is better to understand the Manas as a state or condition of the Citta in its evolution.
Now, the Manas is not only contemplative, but capable of volition. It awakens the desire to cling to the state of individuation, it harbors egoism, passion, and prejudice; it wills and creates: for Ignorance, the principle of birth-and-death, is there in its full force, and the absolute identity of Suchness is here forever departed. Therefore, the Manas really marks the beginning of concrete, particularising consciousness-waves in the eternal ocean of the All-Conserving Mind. The mind which was hitherto indifferent and neutral here acquires a full consciousness; discriminates between ego and non-ego; feels pain and pleasure; clings to that which is agreeable and shrinks from that which is disagreeable; urges activities according to judgments, false or truthful; memorises what has been experienced, and stores it all:—in short, all the modes of mentation come into play with the awakening of the Manas.
According to Açvaghoṣa, with the evolution of the Manas there arise five important psychical activities which characterise the human mind. They are: (1) motility, that is the capability of creating karma; (2) the power to perceive; (3) the power to respond; (4) the power to discriminate; and (5) individuality. Through the exercise of these five functions, the Manas is able to create according to its will, to be a perceiving subject, to respond to the stimuli of an external world, to deliver judgments over what it likes and what it dislikes, and finally to retain all its own “karma-seeds” in the past and to mature them for the future, according to circumstances.
With the advent of the Manas, the evolution of the Citta is complete. Practically, it is the consummation of mentality, for self-consciousness is ripe now. The will can affirm its ego-centric, dualistic activities, and the intellect can exercise its discriminating, reasoning, and image-retaining faculties. The Manas now becomes the center of psychic coördination. It receives messages from the six senses and pronounces over the impressions whatever judgments, intellectual or volitional, which are needed at the time for its own conservation. It also reflects on its own sanctum, and, perceiving there the presence of the Âlaya, wrongfully jumps to the conclusion that herein lies the real, ultimate ego-soul, from which it derives the notions of authority, unity, and permanency.
As is evident, the Manas is a double-edged sword. It may destroy itself by clinging to the error of ego-conception, or it may, by a judicious exercise of its reasoning faculty, destroy all the misconceptions that arise from a wrong interpretation of the principle of Ignorance. The Manas destroys itself by being overwhelmed by the dualism of ego and alter, by taking them for final, irreducible realities, and by thus fostering absolute ego-centric thoughts and desires, and by making itself a willing prey of an indomitable egoism, religiously and morally. On the other hand, when it sees an error in the conception of the absolute reality of individuals, when it perceives a play of Ignorance in the dualism of me and not-me, when it recognises the raison d’être of existence in the essence of Tathâgatahood, i.e., in Suchness, when it realises that the Âlaya which is mistaken for the ego is no more than an innocent and irreproachable reflection of the cosmic Garbha, it at once transcends the sphere of particularity and becomes the very harbinger of eternal enlightenment.
Buddhists, therefore, do not see any error or evil in the evolution of the Mind (âlaya). There is nothing faulty in the awakening of consciousness, in the dualism of subject and object, in the individualising operation of birth-and-death (samsâra), only so long as our Manas keeps aloof from the contamination of false egoism. The gravest error, however, permeates every fiber of our mind with all its wickedness and irrationality, as soon as the nature of the evolution of the Âlaya is wrongfully interpreted by the abuse of the functions of the Manas.[62]
Though Mahâyânism most emphatically denies the existence of a personal ego which is imagined to be lodging within the body and to be the spiritual master of it, it does not necessarily follow that it denies the unity of consciousness or personality or individuality. In fact, the assumption of Manovijñâna by Buddhists most conclusively proves that they have an ego in a sense, the denial of whose empirical existence is tantamount to the denial of the most concrete facts of our daily experiences. What is most persistently negated by them is not the existence of ego, but its final, ultimate reality. But to discuss this subject more fully we have a special chapter below devoted to “Âtman.”
The Sâmkhya Philosophy and Mahâyânism.
If we draw a comparison between the Sâmkhya philosophy and Mahâyânism, the Âlayavijñâna may be considered an unification of Soul (puruṣa) and Nature (prakṛtî), and the Manovijñâna a combination of Buddhi (intellect) or Mahat (great element) with Ahankâra (ego). According to the Sâmkhyakârika (11), the essential nature of Prakṛtî is the power of creation, or, to use Buddhist phraseology, it is blind activity; while that of Puruṣa is witnessing (sakṣitvâ) and perceiving (drastṛtvâ). (The Kârika, 19.) A modern philosopher would say, Puruṣa is intelligence and Prakṛtî the will; and when they are combined and blended in one, they make Hartmann’s Unbewusste Geist (unconscious spirit). The All-Conserving Mind (Âlaya) in a certain sense resembles the Unconscious, as it is the manifestation of Suchness, the principle of enlightenment, in its evolutionary aspect as conditioned by Ignorance; and Ignorance apparently corresponds to the will as the principle of blind activity. The Sâmkhya philosophy is an avowed dualism and permits the existence of two principles independent of each other. Mahâyânism is fundamentally monistic and makes Ignorance merely a condition necessary to the unfolding of Suchness.[63] Therefore, what the Sâmkhya splits into two, Mahâyânism puts together in one.
So is the parallelism between the Manovijñâna, and Buddhi and Ahankâra. Buddhi, intellect, is defined as adhyavasâya (Kârika, 23), while Ahankâra is interpreted as abhimanas (Kârika, 24), which is evidently self-consciousness. As to the exact meaning of adhyavasâya, there is a divergence of opinion: “ascertainment,” “judgment,” “determination,” “apprehension” are some of the English equivalents chosen for it. But the inner signification of Buddhi is clear enough; it indicates the awakening of knowledge, the dawn of rationality, the first shedding of light on the dark recesses of unconsciousness; so the commentators give as the synonyms mati (understanding), khyâti (cognition), jñânam, prajñâ, etc., the last two of these, which mean knowledge or intelligence, being also technical terms of Mahâyânism. And, as we have seen above, these senses are what the Buddhists give to their Manovijñâna, save that the latter in addition has the faculty of discriminating between teum and meum, while in the Sâmkhya this is reserved for Ahankâra. Thus, here, too, in place of the Sâmkhya dualism, we have the Buddhist unity.
Another point we have to take notice here in comparing the two great Hindu religio-philosophical systems, is that the Sâmkhya philosophy pluralises the Soul (puruṣa, Kârika, 18), while Buddhism postulates one universal Citta or Âlaya. According to the followers of Kapila, therefore, there must be as many souls as there are individuals, and at every departure or advent of an individual there must be assumed a corresponding soul passing away or coming into existence, though we do not know its whence and whither. Buddhism, on the other hand, denies the existence of any individual mind apart from the All-Conserving Mind (Âlaya) which is universal. Individuality first appears at the awakening of the Manovijñâna. The quintessence of the Mind is Suchness and is not subject to the limitations of time and space as well as the law of causation. But as soon as it asserts itself in the world of particularisation, it negates itself thereby, and, becoming specialised, gives rise to individual souls.[64]
If I am requested to formulate the ground-principles of the philosophy of Mahâyâna Buddhism, and, indeed, of all the schools of Buddhism, I would suggest the following:
(1) All is momentary (sarvam kṣanikam).
(2) All is empty (sarvam çûnyam).
(3) All is without self (sarvam anâtmam).
(4) All is such as it is (sarvam tathâtvam).
These four tenets, as it were, are so closely interrelated that, stand or fall, they all inevitably share one and the same fate together. Whatever different views the various schools of Buddhism may hold on points of minor importance, they all concur at least on these four principal propositions.
Of these four propositions, the first, the second, and the fourth have been elucidated above, more or less explicitly. If the existence of a relative world is the work of ignorance and as such has no final reality, it must be considered illusory and empty; though it does not necessarily follow that on this account our life is not worth living. We must not confuse the moral value of existence with the ontological problem of its phenomenality. It all depends on our subjective attitude whether or not our world and life become full of significance. When the illusiveness or phenomenality of individual existences is granted and we use the world accordingly, that is, “as not abusing it,” we escape the error and curse of egoism and take things as they are presented to us, as reflecting the Dharma of Suchness. We no more cling to forms of particularity as something ultimate and absolutely real and as that in which lies the essence of our life. We take them for such as they are, and recognise their reality only in so far as they are considered a partial realisation of Suchness, and do not go any further. Suchness, indeed, lies not hidden behind them, but exists immanently in them. Things are empty and illusory so long as they are particular things and are not thought of in reference to the All that is Suchness and Reality.
From this, it logically follows that in this world of relativity all is momentary, that nothing is permanent, so far as isolated, particular existences are concerned. Even independently of the statement made above, the doctrine of universal impermanency is an almost self-evident truth experienced everywhere, and does not require any special demonstration to prove its validity. The desire for immortality which is so conspicuous and persistent in all the stages of development of the religious consciousness that the very desire has been thought to be the essence of all religious systems, is the most conclusive proof that things on this earth are in a constant flux of becoming, and that there is nothing permanent or stationary in our individual existences; if otherwise, people would never have sought for immortality.
If this be granted as a fact of our everyday experience, we naturally ask: “Why are things so changeable? Why is life so fleeting? What is it that makes things so mutable and transitory?” To this, the Buddhist’s answer is: Because the universe is a resultant product of many efficient forces that are acting according to different karmas;—the destiny of those forces being that no one force or no one set of forces can constantly be predominant over all the others, but that when one has exhausted its potential karma, it is replaced by another that has been steadily coming forward in the meantime. Hence the universal cadence of birth and death, of the spring and the fall, of the tide and the ebb, of integration and disintegration. Where there is attraction, there is repulsion; where there is the centripetal force, there is the centrifugal force. Because it is the law of karma that at the very moment of birth the arms of death are around the neck of life. The universe is nothing but a grand rhythmic manifestation of certain forces working in conformity to their predetermined laws; or, to use Buddhist terminology, this lokadhâtu (material world) consists in a concatenation of hetus (causes) and pratyayas (conditions) regulated by their karma. If this were not so, there would be either a certain fixed state of things in which perfect equilibrium would be maintained, or an inexpressible confusion of things of which no knowledge or experience would be possible. In the former case, we should have universal stagnation and eternal death; in the latter case, there would be no universe, no life, nothing but absolute chaos. Therefore, so long as we have the world before us, in which all the possible varieties of particularisation are manifested it cannot be otherwise than in a state of constant vicissitudes and therefore of universal transitoriness.
Now, the Buddhist argument for the theory of non-ego is this: If individual existences are due to relations obtaining between diverse forces, which act sometimes in unison with and sometimes in opposition to one another as predetermined by their karma, they cannot be said to have any transcendental agency behind them, which is a permanent unity and absolute dictator. In other words, there is no âtman or ego-soul behind our mental activities, and no thing-in-itself (svabhâva), so to speak, behind each particular form of existence. This is called the Buddhist theory of non-âtman or non-ego.
Âtman.
Buddhists use the term “âtman” in two senses: first, in the sense of personal ego,[65] and secondly, in that of thing-in-itself, perhaps, with a slight modification of its commonly accepted meaning. Let us use the term “âtman” here in its first sense as equivalent to bhûtâtman, for we are going first to treat of the doctrine of non-ego, and later of that of no-thing-in-itself.
Âtman is usually translated “life,” “ego,” or “soul,”[66] and is a technical term used both by Vedanta philosophers and Buddhists. But we have to note at the beginning that they do not use the term in the same sense. When the Vedanta philosophy, especially the later one, speaks of âtman as our inmost self which is identical with the universal Brahma, it is used in its most abstract metaphysical sense and does not mean the soul whatever, as the latter is commonly understood by vulgar minds. On the other hand, Buddhists understand by âtman this vulgar, materialistic conception of the soul (bhûtâtman) and positively denies its existence as such. If we, for convenience’ sake, distinguish between phenomenal and noumenal in our notion of ego or soul, the âtman of Buddhism is the phenomenal ego, namely, a concrete agent that is supposed to do the acting, thinking, and feeling; while the âtman of Vedantists is the noumenal ego as the raison d’être of our psychical life. The one is in fact material, however ethereal it might be conceived. The other is a highly metaphysical conception transcending the reach of human discursive knowledge. The latter may be identified with Paramâtman and the former with Jîvâtman. Paramâtman is a universal soul from which, according to Vedantism, emanates this world of phenomena, and in a certain sense it may be said to correspond to the Tathâgata-garbha of Buddhism. Jîvâtman is the ego-soul as it is conceived by ignorant people as an independent entity directing all the mental activities. It is this latter âtman that was found to be void by Buddha when he arose from his long meditation, declaring:
“Many a life to transmigrate,
Long quest, no rest, hath been my fate,
Tent-designer[67] inquisitive for:
Painful birth from state to state.
“Tent-designer! I know thee now;
Never again to build art thou:
Quite out are all thy joyful fires,
Rafter broken and roof-tree gone,
Gain eternity—dead desires.”[68]
Buddha’s First Line of Inquiry.
Buddhism finds the source of all evils and sufferings in the vulgar material conception of the ego-soul, and concentrates its entire ethical force upon the destruction of the ego-centric notions and desires. The Buddha seems, since the beginning of his wandering life, to have conceived the idea that the way of salvation must lie somehow in the removal of this egoistic prejudice, for so long as we are not liberated from its curse we are liable to become the prey of the three venomous passions: covetousness, infatuation, and anger, and to suffer the misery of birth and death and disease and old age. Thus, when he received his first instructions from the Sâmkhya philosopher, Arada, he was not satisfied, because he did not teach how to abandon this ego-soul itself. The Buddha argued: “I consider that the embodied ego-soul, though freed from the evolvent-evolutes,[69] is still subject to the condition of birth and has the condition of a seed. The seed may remain dormant so long as it is deprived of the opportunity of coming into contact with the requisite conditions of quickening and being quickened, but since its germinating power has not been destroyed, it will surely develop all its potentialities as soon as it is brought into that necessary contact. Even though the ego-soul free from entanglement [i.e. from the bondage of Prakṛti] is declared to be liberated, yet, so long as the ego-soul remains, there can be no absolute abandonment of it, there can be no real abandonment of egoism.”[70]
The Buddha then proceeds to indicate the path through which he reached his final conclusion and declares: “There is no real separation of the qualities and their subject; for fire cannot be conceived apart from its heat and form.” When this argument is logically carried out, it leads nowhere but to the Buddhist doctrine of non-âtman, that says: The existence of an ego-soul cannot be conceived apart from sensation, perception, imagination, intelligence, volition, etc., and, therefore, it is absurd to think that there is an independent individual soul-agent which makes our consciousness its workshop.
To imagine that an object can be abstracted from its qualities, not only logically but in reality, that there is some unknown quantity that is in possession of such and such characteristic marks (lakṣana) whereby it makes itself perceivable by our senses, says Buddhism, is wrong and unwarranted by reason. Fire cannot be conceived apart from its form and heat; waves cannot be conceived apart from the water and its commotion; the wheel cannot exist outside of its rim, spokes, axle, etc. All things, thus, are made of hetus and pratyayas, of causes and conditions, of qualities and attributes; and it is impossible for our pudgala or âtman or ego or soul to be any exception to this universal condition of things.
Let me in this connection state an interesting incident in the history of Chinese Buddhism. Hui-K’e, the second patriarch of the Dhyâna sect in China, was troubled with this ego-problem before his conversion. He was at first a faithful Confucian, but Confucianism did not satisfy all his spiritual wants. His soul was wavering between agnosticism and scepticism, and consequently he felt an unspeakable anguish in his inmost heart. When he learned of the arrival of Bodhidharma in his country, he hastened to his monastery and implored him to give him some spiritual advice. But Bodhidharma did not utter a word, being seemingly absorbed in his deep meditation. Hui-K’e, however, was determined to obtain from him some religious instructions at all hazards. So it is reported that he was standing at the same spot seven days and nights, when he at last cut off his left arm with the sword he was carrying (being a military officer) and placed it before Dharma, saying: “This arm is a token of my sincere desire to be instructed in the Holy Doctrine. My soul is troubled and annoyed; pray let your grace show me the way to pacify it.” Dharma quietly arose from his meditation and said: “Where is your soul? Bring it here and I will have it pacified.” Hui-K’e replied: “I have been searching for it all these years, but I have never succeeded in laying a hand on it.” Dharma then exclaimed: “There, I have your soul pacified!” At this, it is said, a flash of spiritual enlightenment went across the mind of Hui-K’e, and his “soul” was pacified once for all.
The Skandhas.
When the five skandhas are combined according to their previous karma and present a temporal existence in the form of a sentient being, vulgar minds imagine that they have here an individual entity sustained by an immortal ego-substratum. In fact, the material body (rûpakâya) alone is not what makes the ego-soul, nor the sensation (vedanâ), nor the deeds (sanskâra), nor the consciousness (vijñâna), nor the conception (samjñâ); but only when they are all combined in a certain form they make a sentient being. Yet this combination is not the work of a certain independent entity, which, according to its own will, combines the five skandhas in one form and then hides itself in it. The combination of the constituent elements, Buddhism declares, is achieved by themselves after their karma. When a certain number of atoms of hydrogen and of oxygen are brought together, they attract each other on their own accord or owing to their own karma, and the result is water. The ego of water, so to speak, did not will to bring the two elements and make itself out of them. Even so is it with the existence of a sentient being, and there is no need of hypostasising a fabulous ego-monster behind the combination of the five skandhas.
Skandha (khanda in Pâli) literally means “aggregate” or “agglomeration”, and, according to the Chinese exegetists, it is called so, because our personal existence is an aggregate of the five constituent elements of being, because it comes to take a definite individual form when the skandhas are brought together according to their previous karma. The first of the five aggregates is matter (rûpa), whose essential quality is thought to consist in resistance. The material part of our existence in the five sense-organs called indryas: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and the body. The second skandha is called sensation or sense-impression (vedanâ), which results from the contact of the six vijñânas (senses) with the viṣaya (external world). The third is called samjñâ which corresponds to our conception. It is the psychic power by which we are enabled to form the abstract images of particular objects. The fourth is sanskâra which may be rendered action or deed. Our intelligent consciousness, responding to impressions received which are either agreeable or disagreeable or indifferent, acts accordingly; and these acts bear fruit in the coming generations.
Sanskâra, the fourth constituent of being, comprises two categories, mental (caitta) and non-mental (cittaviprayukta). And the mental is subdivided into six: fundamental (mahâbhûmi), good (kuçala), tormenting (kleça), evil (akuçala), tormenting minor (upakleça), and indefinite (aniyata). It may be interesting to enumerate what all these sankâras are, as they shed light on the practical ethics of Buddhism.
There are ten fundamental sanskâras belonging to the category of mental or psychic activities: 1. cetanâ (mentation), 2. sparça (contact), 3. chanda (desire), 4. mati (understanding), 5. smṛti (recollection), 6. manaskara (concentration), 7. adhimokṣa (unfettered intelligence), 8. samâdhi (meditation). The ten good sanskâras are: 1. çraddhâ (faith), 2. vîrya (energy), 3. upekṣa (complacency), 4. hrî (modesty), 5. apatrapâ (shame), 6 alobha (non-covetousness), 7. adveṣa (freedom from hatred), 8. ahimsa (gentleness of heart), 9. praçradbhi (mental repose), 10. apramâda (attentiveness).
The six tormenting sanskâras are as follows: 1. moha (folly), 2. pramâda (wantonness), 3. kâusidya (indolence), 4. açrâddhya (scepticism), 5. styāna (slothfulness), 6. âuddhatpa (unsteadiness).
The two minor evil sanskâras are: 1. ahrîkatâ, state of not being modest, or arrogance, or self-assertiveness, and 2. anapatrapa, being lost to shame, or to be without conscience.
The ten minor tormenting sanskâras are: 1. krodha (anger), 2. mrakṣa (secretiveness), 3. mâtsarya (niggardliness), 4. îrṣya (envy). 5. pradâça (uneasiness), 6. vihimsâ (noxiousness), 7. upanâha (malignity), 8. mâyâ (trickiness), 9. çâthya (dishonesty), 10. mada (arrogance).
The eight indefinite sanskâras are: 1. kâukṛtya (repentance), 2. middha (sleep), 3. vitarka (inquiry), 4. vicâra (investigation), 5. râga (excitement), 6. pratigha (wrath), 7. mâna (self-reliance), 8. vicikitsâ (doubting).
The second grand category of sanskâra which is not included under “mental” or “psychic,” comprises fourteen items as follows: 1. prâpti (attainment), 2. aprâpti (non-attainment), 3. sabhâgatâ (grouping), 4 asanjñika (unconsciousness), 5. asanjñisamâpatti (unconscious absorption in religious meditation), 6. nirodhasamâpatti (annihilation-trance of a heretic), 7. jîvita (vitality), 8. jâti (birth), 9. sthiti (existing), 10. jarâ (decadence), 11. anityatâ (transitoriness), 12. nâmakâya (name), 13. padakâya (phrase), 14. vyañjanakâya (sentence).
Now, to return to the main problem. The fifth skandha is called vijñâna, commonly rendered consciousness, which, however, is not quite correct. The vijñâna is intelligence or mentality, it is the psychic power of discrimination, and in many cases it can be translated by sense. There are, according to Hînayânists, six vijñânas or senses: visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, tactual, and cogitative; according to Mahâyânism there are eight vijñânas: the manovijñâna and the âlayavijñâna, being added to the above six. This psychological phase of Mahâyâna philosophy is principally worked out by the Yogâcâra school, whose leading thinkers are Asanga and Vasubandhu.
King Milinda and Nâgasena.
Buddhist literature, Northern as well as Southern, abounds with expositions of the doctrine of non-ego, as it is one of the most important foundation-stones on which the magnificent temple of Buddhism is built. The dialogue[71] between King Milinda and Nâgasena, among many others, is very interesting for various reasons and full of suggestive thoughts, and we have the following discussion of theirs concerning the problem of ego abstracted from the Dialogue.
At their first meeting the King asks Nâgasena, “How is your Reverence known, and what is your name?”
To this the monk-philosopher replies: “I am known as Nâgasena, and it is by that name that my brethren in the faith address me. But although parents give such a name as Nâgasena, or Sûrasena, Vîrasena, or Sîhasena, yet this Nâgasena and so on—is only a generally understood term, a designation in common use. For there is no permanent self involved in the matter.”
Being greatly surprised by this answer, the King volleys upon Nâgasena a series of questions as follows:
“If there be no permanent self involved in the matter, who is it, pray, who gives to you members of the Order your robes and food and lodging and necessaries for the sick? Who is it who enjoys such things when given? Who is it who lives a life of righteousness? Who is it who devotes himself to meditation? Who is it who attains to the goal of the Excellent Way, to the Nirvâna of Arhatship? And who is it who destroys living creatures? who is it who takes what is not his own? who is it who lives an evil life of worldly lusts, who speaks lies, who drinks strong drink, who in a word commits any one of the five sins which work out their bitter fruit even in this life? If that be so, there is neither merit nor demerit; there is neither doer nor cause of good or evil deeds; there is neither fruit nor result of good or evil karma. If we are to think that were a man to kill you there would be no murder,[72] then it follows that there are no real masters or teachers in your Order, that your ordinations are void. You tell me that your brethren in the Order are in the habit of addressing you as Nâgasena. Now, what is that Nâgasena? Do you mean to say that the hair is Nâgasena?”
This last query being denied by the Buddhist sage, the King asks: “Or is it the nails, the skin, the flesh, the nerves, the bones, the marrow, the kidneys, the heart, the liver, the abdomen, the spleen, the lungs, the larger intestines, the smaller intestines, the faeces, the bile, the phlegm, the pus, the blood, the sweat, the fat, the tears, the serum, the saliva, the mucus, the oil that lubricates the joints, the urine, or the brain or any or all of these, that is Nâgasena?
“Is it the material form that is Nâgasena, or the sensations, or the ideas, or the confections (deeds), or the consciousness, that is Nâgasena?”
To all these questions, the King, having received a uniform denial, exclaims in excitement: “Then, thus, ask as I may, I can discover no Nâgasena. Nâgasena is a mere empty sound. Who then is the Nâgasena that we see before us?[73] It is a falsehood that your Reverence has spoken, an untruth?”
Nâgasena does not give any direct answer, but quietly proposes some counter-questions to the King. Ascertaining that he came in a carriage to the Buddhist philosopher, he asks: “Is it the wheel, or the framework, or the ropes, or the spokes of the wheels, or the goad, that are the chariot?”
To this, the king says, “No,” and continues: “It is on account of its having all these things that it comes under the generally understood term, the designation in common use, of ‘chariot.’ ”
“Very good,” says Nâgasena, “Your Majesty has rightly grasped the meaning of ‘chariot.’ And just even so it is on account of all these things you questioned me about the thirty-two kinds of organic matter in a human body, and the five skandhas (constituent elements of being) that I come under the generally-understood term, the designation in common use, of ‘Nâgasena.’ ”
Then, the sage quotes in way of confirmation a passage from the Samyutta Nikâya: “Just as it is by the condition precedent of the co-existence of its various parts that the word ‘chariot’ is used, just so it is that when the skandhas are there we talk of a ‘being.’ ”
* * *
To further illustrate the theory of non-âtman from earlier Buddhist literature, let me quote the following from the Jâtaka Tales (No. 244):
The Bodhisattva said to a pilgrim. “Will you have a drink of Ganges-water fragrant with the scent of the forest?”
The pilgrim tried to catch him in his words: “What is the Ganges? Is the sand the Ganges? Is the water the Ganges? Is the hither bank the Ganges? Is the further bank the Ganges?”
But the Bodhisattva retorted, “If you except the water, the sand, the hither bank, and the further bank, where can you find any Ganges?”
Following this argument we might say, “Where is the ego-soul, except imagination, volition, intellection, desire, aspiration, etc.?”
Ananda’s Attempts to Locate the Soul.
In the Surangama Sutra[74], Buddha exposes the absurdity of the hypothesis of an individual concrete soul-substance by subverting Ândanda’s seven successive attempts to determine its whereabouts. Most people who firmly believe in personal immortality, will see how vague and chimerical and logically untenable is their notion of the soul, when it is critically examined as in the following case. Ânanda’s conception of the soul is somewhat puerile, but I doubt whether even in our enlightened age the belief entertained by the multitude is any better than his.
When questioned by the Buddha as to the locality of the soul, Ânanda asserts that it resides within the body. Thereupon, the Buddha says: “If your intelligent soul resides within your corporeal body, how is it that it does not see your inside first? To illustrate, what we see first in this lecture hall is the interior and it is only when the windows are thrown open that we are able to see the outside garden and woods. It is impossible for us who are sitting in the hall to see the outside only and not to see the inside. Reasoning in a similar way, why does not the soul that is considered to be within the body see the internal organs first such as the stomach, heart, veins etc.? If however it does not see the inside, surely it cannot be said to reside within the body.”
Ânanda now proposes to solve the problem by locating the soul outside the body. He says that the soul is like a candle-light placed without this hall. Where the light shines everything is visible, but within the room there are no candles burning, and therefore here prevails nothing but darkness. This explains the incapacity of the soul to see the inside of the body. But the Buddha argues that “it is impossible for the soul to be outside. If so, what the soul feels may not be felt by the body, and what the body feels may not be felt by the soul, as there is no relationship between the two. The fact, however, is that when you, Ânanda, see my hand thus stretched, you are conscious that you have the perception of it. As far as there is a correspondence between the soul and the body, the soul cannot be said to be residing outside the body.”
The third hypothesis assumed by Ânanda is that the soul hides itself just behind the sense-organs. Suppose a man put a pair of lenses over his eyes. Cannot he see the outside world through them? The reason why it cannot see the inside is that it resides within the sense-organs.
But says the Buddha: “When we have a lens over an eye, we perceive this lens as well as the outside world. If the soul is hidden behind the sense-organ, why does it not see the sense-organ itself? As it does not in fact, it cannot be residing in the place you mention.”
Ananda proposes another theory. “Within, we have the stomach, liver, heart, etc.: without, we have so many orifices. Where the internal organs are, there is darkness; but where we have openings, there is light. Close the eyes and the soul sees the darkness inside. Open the eyes and it sees the brightness outside. What do you say to this theory?”
The Buddha says: “If you take the darkness you see when the eyes are closed for your inside, do you consider this darkness as something confronting your soul, or not? In the first case, wherever there prevails a darkness, that must be thought to be your interior organs. In the latter case, seeing is impossible, for seeing presupposes the existence of subject and object. Besides this, there is another difficulty. Granting your supposition that the eye could turn itself inward or outward and see the darkness of the interior or the brightness of the external world, it could also see your own face when the eye is opened. If it could not do so, it must be said to be incapable of turning the sight inward.”
The fifth assumption as made by Ânanda is that the soul is the essence of understanding or intelligence, which is not within, nor without, nor in the middle, but which comes into actual existence as soon as it confronts the objective world, for it is taught by the Buddha that the world exists on account of the mind and the mind on account of the world.
To this the Buddha replies: “According to your argument, the soul must be said to exist before it comes in contact with the world; otherwise, the contact cannot have any sense. The soul, then, exists as an individual presence, not after nor at the time of a contact with the external world, but assuredly before the contact. Granting this, we come back again to the old difficulties: Does the soul come out of your inside, or does it come in from the outside? In case of the first alternative, the soul must be able to see its own face.”
Ânanda interrupts: “Seeing is done by the eyes, and the soul has nothing to do with it.”
The Buddha objects: “If so, a dead man has eyes just as perfect as a living man.[75] He must be able to see things, but if he sees at all, he cannot be dead. Well, if your intelligent soul has a concrete existence, should it be thought simple or compound? Should it be thought of as filling the body or being present only in a particular spot? If it is a simple unit, when one of your limbs is touched, all the four will at once be conscious of the touch, which really means no touch. If the soul is a compound body, how can it distinguish itself from another soul? If it is filling the body all over, there will be no localisation of sensation, as must be the case according to the first supposition of a simple soul-unit. Finally, if it occupies only a particular part of the body, you may experience certain feelings on that spot only, and all the other parts will remain perfectly anesthetic. All these hypotheses are against the actual facts of our experience and cannot be logically maintained.”
For the sixth time, Ânanda ventures to untie the Gordian knot of the soul-problem. “As the soul cannot be located neither within nor without, it must be somewhere in the middle.” But the Buddha again refutes this, saying: “This ‘middle’ is extremely indefinite. Should it be located as a point in space or somewhere on the body? If it is on the surface of the body, it is not the middle; if it is in the body, it is then within. If it is said to occupy a point in space, how should that point be indicated? Without an indication, a point is no point; and if an indication is needed, it can be fixed anywhere arbitrarily, and then there will be no end of confusion.”
Ânanda interposes and says that he does not mean this kind of “middle.” The eye and the color conditioning each other, there comes to exist visual perception. The eye has the faculty to discriminate, and the color-world has no sensibility; but the perception takes place in their “middle,” that is, in their interaction; and then it is said that there exists a soul.
Says the Buddha: “If the soul, as you say, exists in the relation between the sense-organs (indṛya) and their respective sense-objects (viṣaya), should we consider the soul as uniting and partaking the natures of these two incongruous things, viṣaya and indṛya? If the soul partakes something of each, it has no characteristics of its own. If it unites the two natures, the distinction between subject and object exists no more. ‘In the middle’ is an empty word; that is to say, to conceive the soul as the relation between the indryas and the viṣayas is to make it an airy nothing.”
The seventh and final hypothesis offered by Ânanda is that the soul is the state of non-attachment, and that, therefore, it has no particular locality in which it abides. But this is also mercilessly attacked by the Buddha who declares: “Attachment presupposes the existence of beings to which a mind-may be attached. Now, should we consider these things (dharmas) such as the world, space, land, water, birds, beasts, etc. as existing or not existing? If the external world does not exist, we cannot speak about non-attachment, as there is nothing to attach from the first. If the external world really is, how can we manage not to come in contact with it? When we say that things are devoid of all characteristic marks, it amounts to the declaration that they are non-existent. But they are not non-existent, they must have certain characteristics that distinguish themselves. Now, the external world has certainly some marks (lakṣana) and it must by all means be considered as existing. There then is no room for your theory of non-attachment.”
At this, Ânanda surrenders and the Buddha discloses his theory of Dharmakâya, which we shall expound at some length in the chapter specially devoted to it.
* * *
By way of a summary of the above, let me remark that the Buddhists do not deny the existence of the so-called empirical ego in contradistinction to the noumenal ego, which latter can be considered to correspond to the Buddhist âtman. Vasubandhu in his treatise on the Yogâcâra’s idealistic philosophy declares that the existence of âtman and dharma is only hypothetical, provisional, apparent, and not in any sense real and ultimate. To express this in modern terms, the soul and the world, or subject and object, have only relative existence, and no absolute reality can be ascribed to them. Psychologically speaking, every one of us has an ego or soul which means the unity of consciousness; and physically, this world of phenomena is real either as a manifestation of one energy or as a composite of atoms or electrons, as is considered by physicists.
To confine ourselves to the psychological question, what Buddhism most emphatically insists on is the non-existence of a concrete, individual, irreducible soul-substance, whose immortality is so much coveted by most unenlightened people. Individuation is only relative and not absolute. Buddhism knows how far the principle could safely and consistently be carried out, and its followers will not forget where to stop and destroy the wall, almost adamantine to some religionists, of individualism. Absolute individualism, as the Buddhists understand it, incapacitates us to follow the natural flow of sympathy; to bathe in the eternal sunshine of divinity which not only surrounds but penetrates us; to escape the curse of individual immortality which is strangely so much sought after by some people; to trace this mundane life to its fountainhead of which it drinks so freely, yet quite unknowingly; to rise rejuvenated from the consuming fire of Kâla (Chronos). To think that there is a mysterious something behind the empirical ego and that this something comes out triumphantly after the fashion of the immortal phœnix from the funeral pyre of corporeality, is not Buddhistic.
What I would remark here in connection with this problem of the soul, is its relation to that of Âlayavijñâna, of which it is said that the Buddha was very reluctant to talk, on account of its being easily confounded with the notion of the ego. The Âlaya, as was explained, is a sort of universal soul from which our individual empirical souls are considered to have evolved. The Manas which is the first offspring of the Âlaya is endowed with the faculty of discrimination, and from the wrongful use of this faculty there arises in the Manas the conception of the Âlaya as the ego,—the real concrete soul-substratum.
The Âlaya, however, is not a particular phenomenon, for it is a state of Suchness in its evolutionary disposition and has nothing in it yet to suggest its concrete individuality. When the Manas finds out its error and lifts the veil of Ignorance from the body of the Âlaya, it soon becomes convinced of the ultimate nature of the soul, so called. For the soul is not individual, but supra-individual.
Âtman and the “Old Man.”
When the Buddhists exclaim: “Put away your egoism, for the ego is an empty notion, a mere word without reality,” some of our Christian readers may think that if there is no ego, what will become of our personality or individuality? Though this point will become clearer as we proceed, let us remark here that what Buddhism understands by ego or âtman may be considered to correspond in many respects to the Christian notion of “flesh” or the “old man,” which is the source of all our sinful acts. Says Paul: “I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I live now in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Gal. ii, 20.) When this passage is interpreted by the Buddhists, the “I” that was annihilated through crucifixion, is our false notion of an ego-soul (âtman); and the “I” that is living through the grace of God is the Bodhi, a reflex in us of the Dharmakâya.
When Christians put the spirit and the flesh in contrast and advise us to “walk in the spirit” and not to “fulfil the lust of the flesh,” it must be said that they understand by the flesh our concrete, material existence whose characteristic is predominantly individual, and by the spirit, that which transcends particularity and egoism; for “love, joy, peace, long-suffering, faith, meekness, temperance,” and suchlike virtues are possible only when our egocentric, âtman-made desires are utterly abnegated. Buddhism is more intellectual than Christianity or Judaism and prefers philosophical terms which are better understood than popular language which leads often to confusion. Compared with the Buddhists’ conception of âtman, the “flesh” lacks in perspicuity and exactitude, not to speak of its dualistic tendency which is extremely offensive to the Buddhists.
The Vedantic Conception.
Though the doctrine of non-âtman is pre-eminently Buddhistic, other Hindu philosophers did not neglect to acknowledge its importance in our religious life. Having grown in the same soil under similar circumstances, the following passage which is taken from the Yogavâsistha (which is supposed to be a Vedantic work, Upaçama P., ch. LII, 31, 44) sounds almost like Buddhistic:
“I am absolute, I am the light of intelligence, I am free from the defilement of egoism. O thou that art unreal! I am not bound by thee, the seed of egoism.”[76]
The author then argues: Where shall we consider the ego-soul, so called, to be residing in this body of flesh and bones? and what does it look like? We move our limbs, but the movement is due to the vital airs (vâta). We think, but consciousness is a manifestation of the great mind (mahâcitta). We cease to exist, but extinction belongs to the body (kâya). Now, take apart what we imagine to constitute our personal existence. The flesh is one thing, the blood is another, and so on with mentation (bodha) and vitality (spanda). The ear hears, the tongue tastes, the eye sees, the mind thinks, but what and where is that which we call “ego”?
Then comes the conclusion: “In reality, there is no such thing as the ego-soul, nor is there any mine and thine, nor imagination. All this is nothing but the manifestation of the universal soul which is the light of pure intelligence.”[77]
Nâgârjuna on the Soul.
In conclusion, let me quote some passage bearing on the subject from Nâgârjuna’s Discourse on the Middle Path (chapter 9):[78] “Some say that there are seeing, hearing, feeling, etc., because there is something which exists even prior to those [manifestations]. For how could seeing, etc. come from that which does not exist? Therefore, it must be admitted that that being [i.e. soul] existed prior to those [manifestations].
“But [this hypothesis of the prior (pûrva) or independent existence of the soul is wrong, because] how could that being be known if it existed prior to seeing, feeling, etc.? If that being could exist without seeing, etc., the latter too could surely exist without that being. But how could a thing which could not be known by any sign exist before it is known? How could this exist without that, and how could that exist without this? [Are not all things relative and conditioning one another?]
“If that being called soul could not exist prior to all manifestations such as seeing, etc., how could it exist prior to each of them taken individually?
“If it is the same soul that sees, hears, feels, etc., it must be assumed that the soul exists prior to each of these manifestations. This, however, is not warranted by facts. [Because in that case one must be able to hear with the eyes, see with the ears, as one soul is considered to direct all these diverse faculties at its will.]
“If, on the other hand, the hearer is one, and the seer is another, the feeler must be still another. Then, there will be hearing, seeing, etc. simultaneously,—which leads to the assumption of a plurality of souls.[79] [This too is against experience.]
“Further, the soul does not exist in the element (bhûta) on which seeing, hearing, feeling, etc. depend. [To use modern expression, the soul does not exist in the nerves which respond to the external stimuli.]
“If seeing, hearing, feeling, etc. have no soul that exists prior to them, they too have no existence as such. For how could that exist without this, and this without that? Subject and object are mutually conditioned. The soul as it is has no independent, individual reality whatever. Therefore, the hypothesis that contends for the existence of an ego-soul prior to simultaneous with, or posterior to, seeing, etc., is to be abandoned as fruitless, for the ego-soul existeth not.”
Non-âtman-ness of Things.
The word “âtman” is used by the Buddhists not only psychologically in the sense of soul, self, or ego, but also ontologically in the sense of substance or thing-in-itself or thinginess; and its existence in this capacity is also strongly denied by them. For the same reason that the existence of an individual ego-soul is untenable, they reject the hypothesis of the permanent existence of an individual object as such. As there is no transcendent agent in our soul-life, so there is no real, eternal existence of individuals as individuals, but a system of different attributes, which, when the force of karma is exhausted, ceases to subsist. Individual existences cannot be real by their inherent nature, but they are illusory, and will never remain permanent as such; for they are constantly becoming, and have no selfhood though they may so appear to our particularising senses on account of our subjective ignorance. They are in reality cûnya and anâtman, they are empty and void of âtman.
Svabhâva.
The term “svabhâva” (self-essence or noumenon) is sometimes used by the Mahâyânists in place of âtman, and they would say that all dharmas have no self-essence, sarvam dharmam niḥsvabhâvam, which is to say, that all things in their phenomenal aspect are devoid of individual selves, that it is only due to our ignorance that we believe in the thinginess of things, whereas there is no such thing as svabhâva or âtman or noumenon which resides in them. Svabhâva and âtman are thus habitually used by Buddhists as quite synonymous.
What do they exactly understand by “svabhâva” whose existence is denied in a particular object as perceived by our senses? This has never been explicitly defined by the Mahâyânists, but they seem to understand by svabhâva something concrete, individual, yet independent, unconditional, and not subject to the law of causation (pratyayasamutpâda). It, therefore, stands in opposition to çûnyatâ, emptiness, as well as to conditionality. Inasmuch as all beings are transient and empty in their inherent being, they cannot logically be said to be in possession of self-essence which defies the law of causation. All things are mutually conditioning and limiting, and apart from their relativity they are non-existent and cannot be known by us. Therefore, says Nâgârjuna, “If substance be different from attribute, it is then beyond comprehension.”[80] For “a jag is not to be known independent of matter et cetera, and matter in turn is not to be known independent of ether et cetera.”[81] As there is no subject without object, so there is no substance without attribute; for one is the condition for the other. Does self-essence then exist in causation? No, “whatever is subject to conditionality, is by its very nature tranquil and empty.” (Pratîtya yad yad bhavati, tat tac çântam svabhâvataḥ.) Whatever owes its existence to a combination of causes and conditions is without self-essence, and therefore it is tranquil (çânta), it is empty, it is unreal (asat), and the ultimate nature of this universal emptiness is not within the sphere of intellectual demonstrability, for the human understanding is not capable of transcending its inherent limitations.
Says Pingalaka, a commentator of Nâgârjuna: “The cloth exists on account of the thread; the matting is possible on account of the rattan. If the thread had its own fixed, unchangeable self-essence, it could not be made out of the flax. If the cloth had its own fixed, unchangeable self-essence, it could not be made from the thread. But as in point of fact the cloth comes from the thread and the thread from the flax, it must be said that the thread as well as the cloth had no fixed, unchangeable self-essence. It is just like the relation that obtains between the burning and the burned. They are brought together under certain conditions, and thus there takes place a phenomenon called burning. The burning and the burned, each has no reality of its own. For when one is absent the other is put out of existence. It is so with all things in this world, they are all empty, without self, without absolute existence, they are like the will-o’-the-wisp.”[82]
The Real Significance of Emptiness.
From these statements it will be apparent that the emptiness of things (çûnyatâ) does not mean nothingness, as is sometimes interpreted by some critics, but it simply means conditionality or transitoriness of all phenomenal existences, it is a synonym for aniyata or pratîtya. Therefore, emptiness, according to the Buddhists, signifies, negatively, the absence of particularity, the non-existence of individuals as such, and positively, the ever-changing state of the phenomenal world, a constant flux of becoming, an eternal series of causes and effects. It must never be understood in the sense of annihilation or absolute nothingness, for nihilism is as much condemned by Buddhism as naïve realism. “The Buddha proclaimed emptiness as a remedy for all doctrinal controversies, but those who in turn cling to emptiness are beyond treatment.” A medicine is indispensable as long as there is a disease to heal, but it turns poisonous when applied after the restoration of perfect health. To make this point completely clear, let me quote the following from Nâgârjuna’s Mâdhyamika Çâstra (Chap. XXIV). “[Some one may object to the Buddhist doctrine of emptiness, declaring:] If all is void (çûnya) and there is neither creation nor destruction, then it must be concluded that even the Fourfold Noble Truth does not exist. If the Fourfold Noble Truth does not exist, the recognition of Suffering, the stoppage of Accumulation, the attainment of Cessation, and the advancement of Discipline,—all must be said to be unrealisable. If they are altogether unrealisable, there cannot be any of the four states of saintliness; and without these states there cannot be anybody who will aspire for them. If there are no wise men, the Sangha is then impossible. Further, as there is no Fourfold Noble Truth, there is no Good Law (saddharma); and as there is neither Good Law nor Sangha, the existence of Buddha himself must be an impossibility. Those who talk of emptiness, therefore, must be said to negate the Triple Treasure (triratna) altogether. Emptiness not only destroys the law of causation and the general principle of retribution (phalasadbhâvam), but utterly annihilates the possibility of a phenomenal world.”
“[To this it is to be remarked that]
“Only he is annoyed over such scepticism who understands not the true significance and interpretation of emptiness (çûnyatâ).
“The Buddha’s teaching rests on the discrimination of two kinds of truth (satya): absolute and relative. Those who do not have any adequate knowledge of them are unable to grasp the deep and subtle meaning of Buddhism. [The essence of being, dharmata, is beyond verbal definition or intellectual comprehension, for there is neither birth nor death in it, and it is even like unto Nirvâna. The nature of Suchness, tattva, is fundamentally free from conditionality, it is tranquil, it distances all phenomenal frivolities, it discriminates not, nor is it particularised].[83]
“But if not for relative truth, absolute truth is unattainable, and when absolute truth is not attained, Nirvâna is not to be gained.
“The dull-headed who do not perceive the truth rightfully go to self-destruction, for they are like an awkward magician whose trick entangles himself, or like an unskilled snake-catcher who gets himself hurt. The World-honored One knew well the abstruseness of the Doctrine which is beyond the mental capacity of the multitudes and was inclined not to disclose it before them.
“The objection that Buddhism onesidedly adheres to emptiness and thereby exposes itself to grave errors, entirely misses the mark; for there are no errors in emptiness. Why? Because it is on account of emptiness that all things are at all possible, and without emptiness all things will come to naught. Those who deny emptiness and find fault with it, are like a horseman who forgets that he is on horseback.
“If they think that things exist because of their self-essence (svabhâva), [and not because of their emptiness,] they thereby make things come out of causelessness (ahetupratyaya), they destroy those relations that exist between the acting and the act and the acted; and they also destroy the conditions that make up the law of birth and death.
“All is declared empty because there is nothing that is not a product of universal causation (pratyayasamutpâda). This law of causation, however, is merely provisional, though herein lies the middle path.
“As thus there is not an object (dharma) which is not conditioned (pratîtya), so there is nothing that is not empty.
“If all is not empty, then there is no death nor birth, and withal disappears the Fourfold Noble Truth.
“How could there be Suffering, if not for the law of causation? Impermanence is suffering. But with self-essence there will be no impermanence. [So long as impermanence is the condition of life, self-essence which is a causeless existence, is out of question.] Suppose Suffering is self-existent, then it could not come from Accumulation, which in turn becomes impossible when emptiness is not admitted. Again, when Suffering is self-existent, then there could be no Cessation, for with the hypothesis of self-essence Cessation becomes a meaningless term. Again, when Suffering is self-existent, then there will be no Path. But as we can actually walk on the Path, the hypothesis of self-essence is to be abandoned.
“If there is neither Suffering nor Cessation, it must be said that the Path leading to the Cessation of Suffering is also non-existent.
“If there is really self-essence, Suffering could not be recognised now, as it had not been recognised, for self-essence as such must remain forever the same. [That is to say, enlightened minds, through the teaching of Buddha, now recognise the existence of Suffering, though they did not recognise it when they were still uninitiated. If things were all in a fixed, self-determining state on account of their self-essence, it would be impossible for those enlightened men to discover what they had never observed before. The recognition of the Fourfold Noble Truth is only possible when this phenomenal world is in a state of constant becoming, that is, when it is empty as it really is.]
“As it is with the recognition of Suffering, so it is with the stoppage of Accumulation, the attainment of Cessation, the realisation of Path as well as with the four states of saintliness.
“If, on account of self-essence, the four states of saintliness were unattainable before, how could they be realised now, still upholding the hypothesis of self-essence? [But we can attain to saintliness as a matter of fact, for there are many holy men who through their spiritual discipline have emerged from their former life of ignorance and darkness. If everything had its own self-essence which makes it impossible to transform from one state to another, how could a person desire to ascend, if he ever so desire, higher and higher on the scale of existence?]
“If there were no four states of saintliness (catvâri phalâni), then there would be no aspirants for it. And if there were no eight wise men (puruṣapuñgala), there could exist no Sangha.
“Again, when there could not be the Fourfold Noble Truth, the Law would be impossible, and without the Sangha and the Law how could the Buddha exist? You might say: ‘A Buddha does not exist on account of wisdom (Bodhi), nor does wisdom exist on account of the Buddha.’ But if a man did not have Buddha-essence [that is, Bodhi] he could not hope to attain to Buddhahood, however strenuously he might exert himself in the ways of Bodhisattva.
“Further, if all is not empty but has self-essence, [i.e. if all is in a fixed, unchangeable state of sameness], how could there be any doing? How could there be good and evil? If you maintain that there is an effect (phala) which does not come from a cause good or evil, [which is the practical conclusion of the hypothesis of self-essence], then it means that retribution is independent of our deed, good or evil. [But is this justified by our experience?]
“If it must then be admitted that our deed good or evil becomes the cause of retribution, retribution must be said to come from our deed, good or evil; then how could we say there is no emptiness?
“When you negate the doctrine of emptiness, the law of universal causation, you negate the possibility of this phenomenal world. When the doctrine of emptiness is negated, there remains nothing that ought to be done; and a thing is called done which is not yet accomplished; and he is said to be a doer who has not done anything whatever. If there were such a thing as self-essence, the multitudinousness of things must be regarded as uncreated and imperishable and eternally existing which is tantamount to eternal nothingness.