Wednesday, 2 May 2018

Review: Nation as Mother: And Other Visions of Nationhood

Nation as Mother: And Other Visions of Nationhood Nation as Mother: And Other Visions of Nationhood by Sugata Bose
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

There is much of value in Sugata Bose’s latest book, ‘The Nation as Mother’. The book comprises an assortment of essays, all of which focus, some more tangentially than others, on the theme of nationalism and the formation of the nation-state. The book’s title comes from the defining chapter of the volume in which Bose interrogates ‘the sacred biography of the Mother’ - the provenance and history of the maternal metaphor in India’s national consciousness. The metaphor of ‘nation as mother’ was formed in the intellectually fertile terrain of Bengal and inspired creativity in provincial and nation-wide expressions of nationalisms through a litany of art forms including literature, poetry, music and painting. Bose’s incisive narrative brings to light the historical and enduring unease that Indian Muslims have had with the maternal symbol and its overtly religious symbolism and use. Bose’s fascinating study of Aurobindo sheds light on the latter’s political and religious philosophy and represents a much-needed corrective against recent attempts by secularist historians to paint Aurobindo in communal and sectarian colors. Throughout his volume, Bose cautions against the seemingly dominant tendency of viewing Indian nationalist thought through the prism of European discourse. Treating the former as derivative of the latter has resulted, Bose argues, in a vacuum of native subjectivity. In seeking to rescue Indian intellectual history from its impoverished state, Bose invites readers to consider the extent to which modern Indian nationalism drew significantly on rich legacies of precolonial regional patriotisms, kept alive through a ‘constant process of creative innovation’. In many respects, Bose would have done well here to engage more robustly with the recent work of Ananya Vajpeyi who does more than Bose to demonstrate how the creative engagement with precolonial patriotisms shaped and informed colonial and post-colonial Indian nationalisms. That said, Bose’s analysis reminds us that Indian history provides for a rich diversity of nationalisms and that there is nothing particularly indigenous or inevitable about the oppressive, parochial and exclusionary-based nationalism that informs India’s contemporary political discourse. Bose argues, correctly in my view, that our national project today should be about recovering a more generously formed vision of national belonging and patriotism that does, among other things, justice to the spirit of cosmopolitanism that permeates the writings of thinkers that Tagore and Aurobindo.

Several of the essays in the volume deal with Partition. Bose attributes significant responsibility to the Congress Party and its commitment to a “monolithic concept of sovereignty borrowed for modern Europe” for the eventual dismemberment of India. Bose argues that the Congress Party’s lust for power denied the multiple identities and several-layered sovereignties that had characterized India’s pre-colonial past. Bose’s criticism of the Congress Party’s (and the Hindu Mahasabha’s) role in bringing about Partition must be seen in light of his Bose’s treatment of Jinnah’s culpability and role regarding the same. Bose’s account of Jinnah (and of the Congress Party) is consistent with Professor Ayesha Jalal’s thesis (Sugata Bose is married to Ayesha Jalal) which holds that Jinnah’s demand for Pakistan was merely a bargaining chip to be used against the Congress with the aim of securing a more federated post-colonial India. While scholarship in this area remains (to some degree) in a state of flux, recent scholarship does more than enough to undermine Jalal’s central claims. For example, in reviewing Venkat Dhulipala’s 2015 book, ‘Creating a New Medina: State Power, Islam and the Quest for Pakistan in Colonial North India’, Pratap Bhanu Mehta wrote that the book ‘decisively demolishes Ayesha Jalal’s idea that Pakistan arose in a fit of ideological absentmindedness, a stratagem in a bargaining game gone awry.’ Dhulipala’s book convincingly argues that the idea of Pakistan, an Islamic state that is both a homeland for Muslims and the vehicle for regeneration in Islam, had deep roots in political, theological and literary debates (in other words, giving lie to the oft-quoted assertion that Pakistan’s problem was that it was ‘insufficiently imagined’). The final section of the book contains a transcribed selection of Bose’s Lok Sabha speeches. Commenting on the controversy over Jaswant Singh’s eulogistic portrayal of Mohammed Ali Jinnah, Bose writes that ‘majoritanism, whether in secular or saffron garb, continues to be a potential threat to Indian democracy. Regional rights were once thought to be a counterpoise to the anti-democratic tendencies of an over-centralized state. Regional parties run by petty and insecure dictators are proving to be as ruthless as the all-India parties in the suppression of internal dissent’. I wonder who Bose had in mind when he wrote these words; isn’t it ironic how this would strike most readers as a particularly apt description of his own party, the Trinamool Congress and his party leader, Mamata Bannerjee.


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Sunday, 29 April 2018

Notes on Divine Foreknowledge and Freedom

What is omniscience?

Most classical conceptions of God view God as omniscient. Most religious believers would struggle to accept a God that was ignorant of some states of affairs or certain important facts about the world or our selves. That God be omniscient therefore seems right; however, the notion of omniscience is more problematic than it first appears. Take an initial question: what does God being omniscient actually mean? In other words, what does God have to know to be omniscient?  

One of the biggest challenges to the coherence of omniscience concerns the compatibility between omniscience and human freedom or free will. Suppose that tomorrow you decide to eat pizza for lunch. It follows that there is now a true proposition to the effect that you will eat pizza for lunch tomorrow. Propositions of this kind are known as future contingents. If God is omniscient, and if omniscience requires knowledge of all true propositions (as many would argue it does) then God now knows that tomorrow you will eat pizza for lunch. But if God now knows that you are going to eat pizza for lunch then you cannot do so freely for if this decision were free then you could refrain from making it. But, if you were able to refrain from making such a decision then you would be able to make it the case that God has a false belief. However, you are not able to make it the case that God has a false belief for that would be inconsistent with the fact that God is omniscient, and essentially so. The dilemma then is this: either God isn’t omniscient or genuinely free action is not possible. Most religions require the possibility of free agency and so this problem of foreknowledge and freedom threatens to require theists to reject God’s omniscience.

Here are two of the most common attempts to resolve the problem. The first response takes issue with the assumption that there are propositions about future contingents. According to this line of thought, first popularised it seems by Aristotle in his sea-battle argument and adopted now by the contemporary philosopher of religion Richard Swinburne, if the future is genuinely open, in other words to revert to our earlier example, if it is now possible for you to eat pizza for lunch and also possible for you to refrain from such a decision (i.e. by choosing to have soup for lunch instead) then it is not the case that there is now a true proposition to the effect that tomorrow you will eat pizza for lunch. And so it follows that if there is no such proposition then there is nothing for an omniscient being to know (or for that matter, fail to know). It is only when you actually consume pizza for lunch that the relevant proposition comes into existence.

From a theological perspective, does this argument make sense? One of the problems with this argument is that if future contingents fall outside the scope of God’s knowledge, then creation was a huge gamble, for God didn’t know what human beings would do with their capacity for free agency. But if Einstein is right that God doesn’t play dice with the universe, this argument seems unsatisfactory from a theological perspective.

The second response to the problem seeks to contest the notion of foreknowledge itself. The problem of foreknowledge and freedom presupposes that God is temporally bound or located in time just as we are. This view of course requires that some events take place in God’s present, others take place in God’s past and still others take place in God’s future. Many theists have argued that this view is mistaken and that God’s relationship to time is utterly unlike our own. Boethius, famously argued, for example, that God’s eternity consists in the ‘complete possession of an endless life enjoyed as one simultaneous whole’.

The argument here is that God is not like humans who exist wholly at each finite moment in time and endure through time. A human possess his or her life only in a small finite window which we call “now” – the past life is no longer possessed but gone, the future is not yet realised. Since our human life is lived in a finite “now”, it is never full and complete but is fragmented. God, however, is perfect and God’s life is not fragmented like the life of a temporally enduring human. He lives in the eternal “now”. His “now” streteches over our past, present and future. Our finite present is representative of God’s eternal present, but our finite present is only a faint and imperfect model.

This view of God as existing outside of time holds that God’s properties are not indexed to particular times in the way in which our properties are. We have properties at particular times – for example, you have the property of being asleep at some times but not at others- the atemporalist argues that God does not have properties at particular times. God no more has a history or a future than abstract entities such as numbers do. Just as it is incoherent to ask how long the number eight has been in existence or to wonder how long it will continue to exist, so too the atemporalist thinks that such questions are incoherent when asked of God. Let’s reflect for a second on how this atemporalist account of God could solve the problem of foreknowledge and freedom. To revert to our earlier example, suppose that you do indeed have pizza for lunch tomorrow. This event occurs in the future relative to your current temporal perspective, but it is not and never was, future relative to God’s perspective, for God has no such perspective. God is only ever aware of the temporal relations between events in absolute terms. Now to be clear, God is aware of the order in which various events occur, for example, God knows that you eat pizza for lunch a day after you read this blog post, but on the atemporalist account, God does not cognize this event as occurring in the past or the future.

Are there any problems with this account? Some have argued that the atemporal conception threatens God’s omniscience for there appear to be certain things that only a temporally located creature can know. Could an atemporal God know what time it is now? Many have argued not, on the grounds that one can grasp temporally indexed claims (such as ‘it is now 9 a.m.’) only if one is in time, and by hypothesis an atemporal God is not in time. I am not sure this objection is decisive. Any facts that can be represented indexically can also be represented non-indexically. Suppose, for example, that you ask yourself: ‘what time is it now?’ on 1 January 2019. Arguably, this fact is captured by the non-indexical proposition, ‘On 1 January 2019 you asked yourself, ‘what time is it now’?’ and even an atemporal God could know that proposition. In other words, the atemporalist might grant that although certain ways of representing temporal facts are unavailable to God, there are no temporal facts that are beyond God’s ken.


There is, however, a more serious theological objection to the atemporal account. The atemporal account seems difficult to reconcile with the claim that God is personal. Grace Jantzen, for example, argues: ‘a timeless and immutable God could not be personal because he could not create or respond, perceive or act, think, remember, or do any of other things which persons do which require time’.

Wednesday, 25 April 2018

Review: The Elegance of the Hedgehog

The Elegance of the Hedgehog The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Barbery
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

An absolute delight. Muriel Barbery’s ‘The Elegance of a Hedgehog’ is a wonderfully innovative and highly erudite work of literary fiction that speaks to the power of fiction and its ability to find meaning in the seemingly banal monotony of human experience. “The Elegance of the Hedgehog,” written in French and translated into English by Alison Anderson, revolves around three characters, Renée, Paloma, and Ozu (the latter of whom features less prominently but whose appearance remains central to the novel’s plot and significance). More than half of the book centers on the confessions of Renée, a middle-aged, widowed, and rather unattractive (Renée describes herself as “short, ugly and plump”) concierge in a Parisian block of luxury apartments. What makes Renée special is that beneath her stereotypical working-class persona lies an autodidact of incredible sophistication and highly refined taste. When free of the tasks that otherwise occupy her in her concierge day job, Renée reads Tolstoy, listens to Bach and reflects on the beauty of Japanese aesthetic sensibility. Paloma is much younger than Renée; she is a precocious 12 year old whose family also live in the luxury block of apartments in which Renée serves as concierge. Paloma is unlike other 12-year-olds. She is highly intelligent for her age and spends a lot of her time populating her notebook with ‘profound thoughts’. Unfortunately, Paloma believes that the world is meaningless and so has decided to commit suicide when she turns 13. Our last main character is Mr. Kakuro Ozu, a tremendously rich Japanese gentlemen who decides to purchase one of the vacant apartments in the luxury block in which Renée and Paloma live. The first part of the novel depicts daily life in the apartment building as it is observed through the vision of Renée and Paloma. Their meditations on daily life are inspired by the great works of philosophy and art and carry tremendous depth of meaning. The second half of the book brings all three characters together and their interactions and the experiences that result drive the plot until the end of the novel.

It would be somewhat of an understatement to describe the book’s critical reception as ‘mixed’. Apparently, readers either love the book or detest it. One recurring criticism takes issue with the apparently ‘pretentious’ spirit of the book. The philosophical ruminations that permeate the book are critiqued for their redundancy and are alleged to undermine the believability of the characters themselves. I think these criticisms are seriously off the mark. The philosophizing that takes place throughout the novel is absolutely central to the book’s structure and literary effect and so the charge of redundancy does not stick. Also, if all philosophically-laden books are to be deemed ‘pretentious’ what are we to do with Dostoevsky’s ‘The Brothers Karamazov’ or other similarly-structured literary works. Barbery succeeds admirably in ensuring that her erudition doesn’t detract from the literariness of this philosophy-laden work of fiction. Her reflection, via the characters, on philosophy as it applies to daily life is rich with insight and carried out with a lightness of touch that helps to preserve the readability of the novel. In fact, Barbery has a wonderful sense of humour and as one reviewer puts it, it is this sly wit, ‘which bestows lightness on the most ponderous cogitations, [that] keeps her tale aloft’.


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Wednesday, 18 April 2018

Review: Ashoka in Ancient India

Ashoka in Ancient India Ashoka in Ancient India by Nayanjot Lahiri
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

There is a voluminous body of scholarship that readers and students can turn to, to learn more about India’s experience under colonialism or its more recent history since the achievement of Independence. Unfortunately, if you have any interest in pre-modern or ancient Indian history, the primary source of such information are highly technical and specialist journals that are not aimed at wider, non-specialist audiences. While things are changing, it remains the fact that there are very few readable and accessible histories of ancient India that readers can turn to today. Seen in this light, N. Lahiri’s ‘Ashoka in Ancient India’ is a highly welcome addition to the scholarship on Ashoka and the Mauryan empire more generally. Lahiri’s study is highly readable and her scholarship is original and persuasive. Lahiri’s excellent account of Ashoka’s edicts and her attempt to understand the man ‘underneath the edicts’ distinguishes her biography from the few existing accounts of Ashoka that are available. There is a particularly insightful section of the book where Lahiri brings attention to what appears to be an increasingly authoritarian streak that emerges in Ashoka’s inscriptional presence. Her finely textured and intricate study of the edicts and the literary accounts of his life helps to bring Ashoka to life and gives readers a tangible sense of what king and kingdom must have been like.

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Tuesday, 3 April 2018

Review: Why I am a Hindu

Why I am a Hindu Why I am a Hindu by Shashi Tharoor
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Tharoor’s latest book is an eminently readable and highly persuasive critique of Hindutva, the ideology underpinning contemporary Hindu nationalism. Why I Am A Hindu does not purport to constitute a scholarly treatise on Hinduism. Indeed it isn’t one. The first section of the book in which Tharoor introduces his conception of Hinduism to readers is well-written and highly readable but lacking in scholarly rigor. Tharoor repeats platitudes often found elsewhere regarding Hinduism’s tremendous capaciousness and tolerance of diversity and plurality. While Tharoor is surely right that Hinduism respects and embraces plurality in ways that rival traditions have historically not, the book could have benefited from a more thorough and searching analysis of the basis of this tolerance and open-mindedness. There is of course a prior question that Tharoor’s book hints at but does not adequately resolve and that is what does Hinduism actually mean? There is a serious danger that fuzzy and non-scholarly attempts at presenting Hinduism have the unintended effect of rendering the category vacuous and hopelessly incoherent. By way of example, let’s think of Hinduism’s supposed respect for plurality a bit more deeply. Tharoor claims that Hinduism holds that all religions are equally true and equally valid paths to God/Salvation/Liberation. Is this right? The overwhelming majority of Hindu religious and theological traditions that fall within the umbrella of Hinduism would surely not accept this claim. After all, the great Vedantic theologians such as Sankara, Ramanuja and Madhva expended great energy and intellectual effort in arguing with one another about the correct interpretation of scripture: they would not possibly endorse the view that all religions were equally true or equally valid. While it is surely true that the whole is often greater than the sum of its parts, more work needs to be done to explore this tension between the apparent inclusiveness of Hinduism and the emphasis on correct doctrine in the respective theological traditions that make up Hinduism. My view on the issue is that one can, without contradiction, uphold the primacy of one’s own theological view while conceding the soteriological value present in other religious traditions: this approach allows us to respect other traditions and encourages us to consider the various ways in which we can learn from them in deepening of our own commitment to truth and piety. It doesn’t however require that we commit ourselves to the incoherent view that all religions are equally true or valid.

The best and most rewarding part of Tharoor’s book is his account of the political philosophy that underpins Hindutva and Hindu nationalism more generally. Tharoor argues persuasively that Hindu nationalism impoverishes Hinduism in its homogenized and diversity-denying presentation of the religion. Tharoor’s critique is both well-informed and balanced: his presentation reflects the nuances that distinguish the main ideologues of the Hindutva tradition (V.D. Savarkar, Golwalker, and Deen Dayal Upadhyaya) and he is prepared to concede where his ideological interlocutors have good arguments (i.e. Upadhyaya’s commitment to humanism and poverty alleviation). All in all, this is an important and timely book and is worth reading for anyone interested in Hinduism, Indian political philosophy and contemporary India.

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Review: When The Moon Shines By Day

When The Moon Shines By Day When The Moon Shines By Day by Nayantara Sahgal
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Aside from her literary achievements, Nayantara Sahgal is well known in India for her forceful and unrelenting critique of Hindu Nationalism. In 2016, Sahgal returned her Sahitya Akademi Award to protest what she described as increasing intolerance in India and the Akademi’s indifference to attacks against rationalist thinkers. She thinks of the BJP and Modi in particular as ‘fascist’ in orientation and has displayed courage throughout her career in combating the right-wing nationalisms of the Sangh Parivar. This is the political womb, so to speak, from which her latest novel emerges. The novel has been described as a political satire and this seems to me an apt description. The novel’s setting is a dystopian India (which Sahgal believes has already arrived) in which racial segregation, book-burning fiestas, and state-sanctioned torture all feature. As regards its literary merit, the books disappoints for many reasons. The plot is disjointed and not easy to follow; the characters that populate her novel lack depth and the novel, more generally, seems to have been hastily produced solely to inflict as much reputational damage as possible to the current political dispensation. Be that as it may, Sahgal’s short novel serves as a chilling commentary on disquieting developments in contemporary India that are increasingly unleashing illiberal instincts in multiple Indian constituencies. It takes just 30 minutes of watching Indian news channels to see how bitter and coarse India’s political discourse has become. As the space of liberal expression seems to be shrinking and as minorities continue to be reminded of their precarious position in Indian society, literary activism of Sahgal’s sort is required to remind us of the true dystopia that awaits us should we allow the present illiberalism to gather steam and percolate throughout the country.

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Monday, 25 December 2017

A Hindu Vaishnava Perspective on Religious Diversity

Philosophical responses to the problem of religious diversity

Philosophers have responded to the problem of religious diversity in various ways. Such responses are usually grouped into one of the following trichotomous categories: exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism. One of the most contested areas in discussions of religious diversity concerns the treatment by religions of the salvific[1] prospects of outsiders; in other words, what is the proper way religious traditions should think of the soteriological fate of people who do not belong to such traditions. In terms of the exclusivist-inclusivist-pluralist trichotomy referred to above, several sorts of responses to the problem of outsiders’ salvific prospects can be anticipated:

·        An exclusivist would argue that salvation is only possible through his or her own religion and that outsiders are destined to soteriologically inferior ends (i.e. hell);
·       An inclusivist would argue that while salvation may be possible for outsiders, the inclusvist’s religion has the most religious value and soteriological efficacy.
·       Finally, a pluralistic response to the problem of religious diversity and more specifically, the question of outsiders’ salvific prospects, is to say that all religions are equally valid and effective.

Thus far, I have framed the problem of religious diversity in soteriological terms, i.e. as regards the question of salvation for outsiders. There is no reason to delimit the discussion in this way, however. For example, one can deploy the exclusivist-inclusivist-pluralist trichotomy to anticipate philosophical responses to another issue at the forefront in discussions of religious diversity: the question of whether outsider religious traditions contain any religious truth (both sets of issue are, of course, closely connected)[2]. Just as you can be an exclusivist as regards the question of outsiders’ salvific prospects, you can also be an exclusivist in connection with the question of religious truth; an exclusivist would hold that only his or her own religious tradition contains religious truth. Inclusivist and pluralist responses can also be developed. In this blog post, I will try to deal with both issues.

John Hick’s approach to the problem of religious diversity

The renowned 20th century British philosopher of religion, John Hick, famously argued that the most important indicator that a religious tradition is not just a creation of the human imagination but is instead in part a product of input from ultimate reality[3] is that it facilitates the transformation of people from self-centerdness to reality-centerdness[4]. The idea that the major world religions serve as soteriological vehicles that transform persons existentially from self-centeredness to reality-centeredness is, I believe, a tremendously useful, accurate and insightful way to conceptualize the function of religious traditions. It is an insight that I feel is consistent with and expressive of the Hindu Vaishnava view and so I will often return to it throughout the course of this post.

An additional insight of Hick’s that readers should be aware of, but one that I have strong reservations about, is his distinctly Kantian emphasis on ultimate reality’s utter ineffability. Hick argued that ‘the Real’, i.e. God, is ineffable and not directly experienced by anyone; religious believers only interact with it indirectly through personal and impersonal appearances of the ultimate reality. Hick’s view was that ultimate reality belongs to the noumenal realm, an area to which we have absolutely no access. All that we can experience are phenomenal appearances of the ultimate.

While there is much that is insightful in Hick’s argument, undue stress on the ineffability of the divine reality impoverishes religion of some of its most attractive and enduring features, i.e. the effectiveness of worship and prayer, the powerful and emotional intensity of religious experience, etc. I will return to this issue later when we survey Hindu Vedantic views on ineffability.

Hindu Vaishnava perspective on religious diversity

Historically, Hindu theologians have responded in diverse ways to the question of whether members of other religious traditions can achieve salvation or liberation (howsoever conceived) at the end of their spiritual journeys. Such responses tend to be pluralist or inclusive in nature. There is, of course, a very important nuance that must be borne in mind when considering and reflecting on Hindu views in this context: the Indic belief in reincarnation means that Hindus believe that the soteriological process occurs over and across multiple lifetimes. In the context of the present discussion, this means that when I speak of the salvific power of other traditions, what I am referring to is not their ability to deliver salvation to their members at the end of this lifetime but rather their capacity to contribute and advance the soteriological and existential transformation of believers in Hickean ways (i.e. by making them less self-centered and more reality-centered).

Indeed, in the Hindu context, the question, can non-Hindus achieve moksha or salvation?, is (as the Buddha would say) an unprofitable question. Why? The vast majority of Hindus will not achieve moksha during their present lifetimes; that being the case, and given that most Hindus would accord pride of place to their own tradition in the economy of salvation, it goes without saying that most non-Hindus will not likely achieve moksha in their current life.

The sheer diversity and heterogeneity that characterize Hindu traditions means that there is no one, single Hindu perspective on the question of outsiders’ salvific prospects. To delimit the scope of this discussion, however, I want to think theologically from a particular Hindu perspective: that of the Hindu Vaishnava tradition.[5] Vaishnavism sets itself apart from other traditions in Hinduism by its monotheistic and exclusive focus on Vishnu (in any one of his forms) as Supreme Lord and by its advocacy of devotion as an important path to liberation. Preliminaries now aside, let us think more deeply about how Hindu Vaishnavas can think about the soteriological fate of outsiders.

Hindu traditions have long recognized the myriad ways in which ultimate reality can be experienced and apprehended. Indeed, the Rig Veda famously remarks that: “the truth is one, the wise call it by different names”.  Differences in nomenclature aside, Hindu religious traditions also recognize that different facets of the ultimate reality appeal to aspirants depending on their own inclinations and theological predispositions. For example, while Vaishnava traditions choose to focus on the personal and theistic aspect of ultimate reality, they do not deny the validity of impersonal experiences of the divine. Impersonal traditions tend to focus on the ultimate as the ground of all being and/or as pure consciousness rather than as a personal and omnibenevolent supreme deity. While privileging their own conception of the divine, Vaishnavas would argue that God’s infinite nature lends itself to be experienced in myriad ways by religious aspirants. Further, for Vaishnava’s, God’s willingness to reciprocate with believers in a manner suitable to their religious aspirations is but a particular illustration of divine compassion and mercy.

An important scriptural verse in the Vaishnava canon that informs Vaishnava views on this subject comes from the Bhagavad Gita (Chapter 4, Verse 11): “According to the manner in which they approach Me, I favour them in that very manner. Men experience Me alone in different ways, O Arjuna”[6] In my reading, this verse brings out quite beautifully the all-embracing nature of divine love. Krishna makes clear here that he “meets every aspirant with favour and grants to each his heart’s desire”[7] It seems quite obvious to me that this reading of the text precludes Hindu Vaishnavas from adopting exclusivist approaches to the question of outsiders’ salvific prospects. God responds with favour to religious aspirants regardless of the way in which they worship or approach him. To link this discussion back to Hick’s understanding of religion’s function, I want to suggest that this verse opens up interpretive possibilities for Hindu Vaishnavas to think about other world religions as representing important  soteriological vehicles that transform persons existentially from self-centeredness to Reality-centeredness.

Given the many-lifetimes approach that Hinduism takes to the question of liberation, my response to the problem of religious diversity is to suggest that religious aspirants from all major world traditions can and do make soteriological progress when they practice their religion. This means that, contrary to what some religious traditions argue, there is no reason to think that believers from other world religions are destined for everlasting punishment just for choosing to conceive of the divine in different ways. Of course, an important qualification here is in order. The Hindu Vaishnava view does not require that one hold all religions to be equally salvific. All major world religions, allow their adherents to get a keener insight into the nature of reality or God and to adopt dispositional attitudes towards that reality that are life-transforming and soteriologically effective. My view is that this position still creates sufficient room for one to argue that a particular religion or tradition is more effective (vis-à-vis others) in bringing about the sorts of existential transformations that make believers more reality-centered. In sum, the view I have been articulating above does not require believers to hold all religions to be equally true; it does however require that we see all religions as valid (for the reasons described above).

The fact that God’s nature is infinite and that he has the capacity to assume multiple manifestations according to the wishes of his devotees, does not mean that all religious approaches or paths are equally valid. In an important part of the Gita, Krishna speaks of some religious paths as being avidhi purvakam, i.e. contrary to regulative religious principles. However, far from delegitimizing such religious practices and rejecting the worship offered, Krishna makes clear that even in such cases he strengthens the devotees faith in their chosen deity and dispenses himself the gift or material goods sought. This is a striking example of Krishna’s universal benevolence and love for all people.[8]

I decided to frame this discussion early on in the context of Hinduism’s reincarnation thesis: that human beings’ spiritual journey occurs across multiple lifetimes and in the contexts of different successive bodily existences. Without losing sight of this larger context, let us think of a slightly different question: can believers of other religious traditions attain moksha or liberation in their present lifetime?

Most classical Hindu theologians, I think, would respond in the negative to this question: they would suggest that while religious progress is possible in other traditions, the culmination of the soteriological process would require birth in a particular Hindu tradition. On this view, Hinduism must be accorded pride of place in the economy of salvation and so moksha is only possible for Hindus. This is a view with which I agree and one that, in my understanding, best reflects what the Hindu Vaishnava scriptural canon has to say on the subject.

Tying this all together, my view is that while non-Hindu traditions do not likely provide distinct full-fledged routes to salvation, they are not lacking in usefulness in this area, and they can play a contributing role by, for example, removing obstacles to salvation, providing preliminary or preparatory training or useful encouragement. Importantly, I must emphasize that there are no grounds to dogmatize here for indeed a Hindu cannot be certain that members of other religions cannot achieve moksha or salvation at the end of their present lifetime. In any event, all that I have said above demonstrates, I think, that it only requires a bit of imagination and constructive theology to see how it is entirely possible for Hindus to hold that other religious traditions hold important, divinely inspired insights into the nature of ultimate reality. 

The Value of Interreligious Dialogue

One of the biggest problems with exclusivist responses to the issue of religious diversity, is that it renders interreligious dialogue obsolete. If you truly believe that your own tradition represents the only valid way of approaching and worshipping the divine then what need is there to engage in interreligious dialogue. My view therefore is that for interreligious dialogue to be a truly meaningful enterprise, the discourse it generates must be rooted in the following premises: a) a belief that no one religion has a monopoly on religious truth; and b) the primary objective of interreligious dialogue is to allow interlocutors to learn from other religious traditions and not just about such traditions. In other words, both premises require that a participant in interreligious dialogue not be an exclusivist as regards matters of truth; he or she must hold that other traditions hold truths of their own and that we can learn something from them. 

My view is that Hindu Vaishnavas can argue, without contradiction or inconsistency, that their particular tradition is more effective than others in bringing about the sorts of existential transformations that make believers more reality-centered while continuing to believe in the value of interreligious dialogue as a means by which to learn from (and not just about) other traditions. I can see how my argument may be perceived to be vulnerable to the criticism that it doesn’t really permit for genuine interreligious dialogue since a Vaishnava Hindu, on this account, would have little to gain or learn from other traditions given that his or her own tradition represents a soteriologically more effective approach to the divine reality. I’ll leave it for readers to consider the extent to which this criticism holds but I would like to argue that in my own experience, at least, the perceived inconsistency is apparent only. To experience the divine in all its glory and richness, if such a thing is indeed possible, dialogue across religions is not only desirable but necessary. The point is to learn from others facets of the divine nature that one’s own tradition or understanding may not have emphasized.

I should add that my vision of ‘learning from others’ does not necessarily require that we be open to acquiring new or additional beliefs from other traditions but rather that we, at least, be open to deriving from other traditions a fresh perspective or a deeper insight into beliefs that we already hold.
My study of Hinduism leads me to believe that there are sufficient conceptual resources within Hindu Vaishnavism that justify an approach that treats other religious traditions as valid. One such resource is of course the verse from the Bhagavad Gita to which I have already made reference. Other resources include: (i) the Vedantic insistence on the ineffability of the ultimate; and (ii) the notion of divine revelation.

The ineffable nature of the divine is a natural corollary of God’s infinite and transcendent nature. The Vedanta tradition within Hinduism cautions students that our sensorial and cognitive capacities, including the language we use and study and that of the Vedas, cannot provide us with unmediated and complete access to the divine reality, howsoever conceptualized. In the context of this discussion, this means that religious traditions, by implication, are but provisional attempts at conceptualizing ultimate reality in ways understandable to religious believers. It seems to me that this recognition of God’s ineffable nature provides a promising basis upon which theological dialogue across and between religions can take place. It requires a degree of theological humility on the part of believers across traditions as they recognize that no one tradition can claim a monopoly on conceptualizations of the divine.

I argued earlier that undue stress on the ineffability of the divine reality impoverishes religion of some of its most attractive and enduring features. I want to argue also that ineffability is also a problem for interreligious dialogue. The reason that I don’t want to stress God’s utter inaccessibility to the believer’s imagination is because it would render unintelligible and meaningless any dialogue between religious traditions; after all what exactly is it we would be talking about? If God is so beyond human discourse then all we are really doing is grasping, in the dark, at an unknown realm, to which we have no access and from which we receive no illumination. While some traditions do stress the entirely noumenal nature of ultimate reality, most religious believers would not conceive of their relationship with and understanding of ultimate reality in such religiously unsatisfying ways. Central, therefore, to the coherence of my account is the view that we can speak meaningfully about ultimate reality and that the ineffability of ultimate reality does not preclude soteriologically valuable reflection and meditation on God.

To nuance this discussion further, while religious traditions accept that God exceeds human understanding, most traditions believe that God aids human understanding of his nature by intervening in human history either through the form of his written revelation (i.e. the Qu’ran or the Bible) or through the medium of divine incarnation (i.e. Krishna or Jesus). Divine disclosure as understood in these different traditions enables believers from different traditions to ‘compare notes’, as it were, and to learn from each other the various ways in which God has chosen to manifest or disclose himself. My view is that this still allows us to privilege certain forms of divine revelation over others (in the sense that some can be more complete than others) but at least it forces us to take seriously the claims of other believers as regards their understanding of God through his manifestation in their traditions.

There seems nothing within Hindu Vaishnavism that precludes Vaishnavas from accepting the validity of divine revelation in other religious traditions. From all that we know of God’s omnipotence and omnibenovelence, why must we insist that it was not possible for God to reveal himself (through various mediums) to human communities in other parts of the world. Indeed, I would argue that the richness of God’s nature requires that we accept revelation as pluriform in nature. We can argue that the same divine reality has always been active towards mankind and the differences in religious traditions are, in part, a result of or related to differences in human circumstances. Our differing ethnic, geographical, economic, sociological and historical circumstances have resulted in existing differentiations in religion and culture more generally.

From a theological perspective, all that we need to do to accept this picture of divine revelation is to accept that the ultimate reality is infinite in nature. Different religious traditions are all encountering the same reality but end up expressing the experience of that reality using the idiom and cultural imagination to which they are accustomed. Christians understand themselves to worship a triune God, Muslims understand themselves to worship Allah, some Hindus understand themselves to worship Krishna or Vishnu; other Hindus believe there to be a nonpersonal religious reality. In each case, members of these religions are dealing, in my view, with the same religious reality, variously understood or interpreted.

I should repeat that this remains consistent with an approach that privileges certain forms of divine revelation over others. On this view, a Hindu Vaishnava would argue that: Vishnu’s self-communication extends to all people; the fact that he has tempered his message in line with the historical and cultural contexts of other people does not undermine the argument of universal revelation.

To conclude this discussion, let us reflect briefly on how a Hindu Vaishnava can engage in interreligious discussion. I have tried to emphasize that the point here is not merely to learn about other religious traditions. On this view, questions of religious ultimacy are not paramount: by way of example, the question for a Vaishnava Hindu is not whether the doctrine of the Trinity is supported in the Bible but whether there is value in us thinking about the Divine as triune in nature. What sort of religious possibilities would such an understanding open up for us and in what ways could it be used to deepen our experience of God’s mystery and interpersonal attributes. Similarly, a Hindu Vaishnava can reflect on the Islamic understanding of tawhid and the ways in which the understanding of divine unicity reflect fundamental aspects of the divine reality.





[1]            I.e. relating to salvation.
[2]           If you are an exclusivist as regards the question of religious truth, then you are more likely to be sceptical of the salvific prospects of outsiders to your religious tradition. However, this relationship need not invariably obtain. You could, possibly but implausibly, argue that while your own religious tradition is true and that of others false, outsiders can still attain salvation by somehow availing themselves of the soteriologically effective spirit of your tradition.
[3]           In this post, ultimate reality, divine reality, God, the Real, should all be treated as synonyms. Some religious traditions (i.e. Advaita Vedanta, Buddhism, and Jainism) do not conceive of the ultimate reality in theistic terms and so the term ‘God’ for such traditions is inapposite.
[4]           I.e. God centred.
[5]           I appreciate that, in reality, no such thing exists. Vaishnavism comprises many traditions, all of which offer diverse theological approaches to important religious concepts. However, given the tentative nature of this post and the disutility in too narrow an approach, I would like to suggest that there is a sense in which we can think theologically through the Hindu Vaishnava prism in ways that are conceptually coherent and clear and productive.
[6]           Ye Yatha Mam Prapadyante, Tams Tathaiva Bhajamy Aham,  Mama Vartmanuvartante, Manusyah Partha Sarvasah
[7]           Radhakrishnan’s commentary on the Bhagavad Gita.
[8]           A recognition of the provisional legitimacy of religious practices that are expressly inferior and not recommended can be found in the Old Testament. For example, Deuteronomy represents the religions of non-Jews as divinely approved, even if inferior to the religion of Israel. Deuteronomy 4:19 reads as follows: “when you look up to the heavens and see the sun, the moon, and the stars, all the host of heaven, do not be led astray and bow down to them and serve them, things that the Lord your God has allotted to all the peoples everywhere under heaven (emphasis mine). Commenting on this passage, S. R. Driver wrote: “The God of Israel [assigns] to every nation its objects of worship; and the veneration of the heavenly bodies by the nations (other than Israel) forms part of his providential order of the world.”[8] Further, in his Anchor Bible commentary, M. Weinfeld endorses the same explanation of the verse: “The heavenly bodies as objects of worship were assigned to the nations by God himself”[8].