The Idea of Ancient India, page 40
36. These were the eighth, fourteenth, and fifteenth days of every lunar fortnight, as well as the (full moon days of) Tiṣya, Punarvasu, and the three Cāturmāsīs.
37. These were the (full moon days of) Tiṣya, Punarvasu, and the fortnights (pakṣas) of the Cāturmāsīs.
38. It should be noted that the concern for the welfare of prisoners is also expressed in RE 5, which talks of the dhamma officers distributing money to prisoners who have children and releasing those who are aged or have committed crimes due to being misled.
39. Mahesh Rangarajan, personal communication.
40. Scholars have discussed other possible meanings of samatā, but this seems the most appropriate one.
41. Etienne Lamotte, History of Indian Buddhism: From the Origins to the Śaka Era, trans. Sara Webb-Boin under the supervision of Jean Dantinne (Louvain-la-Neuve: Institut Orientaliste, 1988), p. 232.
42. It should be noted that the creation of confidence among the constituent elements of the state is also emphasized in the political treatises.
43. See for instance Andre Wink, ‘Sovereignty and Universal Dominion in South Asia’, in Jos J. L. Gommans and Dirk H. A. Kolff, ed., Warfare and Weaponry in South Asia 1000–1800 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2001), p. 110.
44. Richard Salomon, ‘Ancient India: Peace Within and War Without’, in Kurt A. Rafflaub, ed., War and Peace in the Ancient World (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), pp. 53–65.
45. For a discussion of how these issues are treated in two important ancient political treatises, the Arthaśāstra and the Nītisāra, see Upinder Singh, ‘Politics, Violence, and War in Kāmandaka’s Nītisāra’, The Indian Economic and Social History Review 47 (1), 2010, pp. 29–62. For a discussion of how these issues are treated in a highly influential kāvya, see Upinder Singh, ‘The Power of a Poet: Kingship, Empire and War in Kālidāsa’s Raghuvaṁśa’, The Indian Historical Review 38 (2), 2012, pp. 177–198. These constitute Chapters 10 and 11 of this book.
46. To some extent, Aśoka seems to have recognized the gap between his ideals and his actual achievements, although towards the end of his reign, he seems to have been convinced that he had succeeded in effectively closing this gap.
* * *
*This chapter was previously published in South Asian Studies 28 (2), 2012, pp. 131–145.
10
Politics, Violence, and
War in Kāmandaka’s
Nītisāra*
The historiography of early medieval India (c. 600–1300 ce) has been dominated by the question of whether this period should be understood within the frameworks of the integrative, feudal or segmentary state models.1 Initially enlightening, the half century or so of this debate has reached an impasse, and the debate itself has become an obstacle to fresh thinking. Clearly, it is time to frame new questions and re-think the ways in which we can think about the early medieval.
A comprehensive, historically grounded intellectual history of this age does not exist, a fact that is especially surprising considering that these centuries were marked by exceptional intellectual vitality. One of the many issues that have received inadequate scholarly attention is the reciprocal relationship between early medieval political processes and the intellectual engagement with these processes in texts of the time. The most important intervention against this indifference has been made by Sheldon Pollock, who has emphasised the fact that the cognitive production of political orders is a significant and integral constituent of these orders and that it is, therefore, essential to explore the ‘political imagination’, which includes ideas and aspirations of rule.2 Ronald Inden has analysed the representations of the concepts of mastery, lordship and political hierarchy in early medieval India in literary and epigraphic sources.3 And Daud Ali has offered a very thought-provoking, though homogenised, analysis of the representations of courtly culture in texts, inscriptions and art of the first millennium.4
While drawing on the insights of these scholars, my own perspective differs in several respects. While I am interested in analysing the political discourse (I prefer this term to Pollock’s ‘political imagination’) represented in texts, I think it is important that such an analysis must be very carefully calibrated with respect to chronology and spatial context and should not end up presenting an over-homogenised picture of either the discourse or the politics of the time. Further, while identifying shared ideas, and those with an exceptional longevity, it must be equally sensitive to differences in perspective, emphasis and argument within texts of a particular genre and across texts belonging to different genres produced at different points of time.
The focus of this chapter—a close analysis of the Nītisāra (‘The Essence of Politics’) of Kāmandaka—is part of a larger study of political ideas. Comparisons with the Arthaśāstra provide a useful basis for identifying this text’s perspective. Apart from the Nītisāra’s representation of the morphology of monarchical power, I also examine how the text engaged with an important political problem, namely the interface between kingship and violence, with special reference to punishment, hunting and war. The issue of violence in Indian intellectual traditions and history has many facets, and there are some illuminating works on the subject.5 Violence and non-violence have especially been discussed in the context of sacrifice, religion (Vedic religion, Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism), asceticism, vegetarianism, and Buddhist and Jaina environmental ethics. War has often been discussed by scholars in the context of the Buddhist tradition and works such as the Bhagavad Gītā and Mahābhārata. More off the beaten track is Daud Ali’s analysis of the social meanings of violence, gastronomy and war in the Kaliṅkattupparaṇi, a riveting 12th century text composed in the Cōḻa court.6 There is, nevertheless, a need for a more comprehensive, diachronic study of the ways in which the issue of violence was dealt with in ancient and early medieval India. The focus of such a study must not only be on understanding representations of violence, but also on arguments and attitudes towards its various forms.
Historicising normative texts raises a fundamental question about the relationship between theory and practice. Pollock has pointed out that in the Indian intellectual tradition, śāstra (‘theory’) is generally held to precede and govern prayoga (‘practical activity’), and suggests that the ideas that came to be associated with the nature of śāstra may be connected with the belief in the transcendent character of the Vedas.7 However, he himself points to the fact that there were exceptions to this position, significantly enough, in works on politics and medicine. A further necessary caveat to this argument is that śāstric self-representation should not be conflated with the way in which śāstric knowledge was actually produced in early India. The discipline of history assumes that the creation of a textual tradition involved an interface with its historical context, and it can be demonstrated that historical reality intruded into many a ‘normative’ text. However, the biggest challenge in historicising ancient and early medieval political treatises is to meaningfully anchor their political discourses (the plural is deliberately used to underline their diversity in type and perspective) in the peculiarities and demands of their genre, and in their evolving and changing political contexts, without slipping into the error of presenting these discourses as either insulated from or direct reflections of those contexts.
Kāmandaka’s Nītisāra and Kauṭilya’s Arthaśāstra
Kāmandaka’s Nītisāra is a treatise on politics written in Sanskrit verse, consisting of 20 sargas (cantos) subdivided into 36 prakaraṇas (sections).8 It discusses the principles according to which a king should rule his kingdom and how he could attain political paramountcy and prosperity for himself and his subjects. As is the case with many early Indian texts, it is difficult to ascertain when and where the Nītisāra was written. Estimates of its age generally range between the 1st and 7th centuries ce.9 The evidence recently cited to suggest the contemporaneity of the Nītisarā with the Gupta emperor Candragupta II (c. 375–415 ce) is not convincing.10 A more cautious approach, placing the text between c. 500–700 ce is better, and the Nītisāra can thus be situated at the threshold or the advent of the early medieval.
Among the ancient Indian political treatises, it is Kauṭilya’s Arthaśāstra that has naturally attracted the maximum attention of scholars, being the first surviving text on the subject and also because of its masterly coverage of an enormous range of issues related to statecraft. The Arthaśāstra has often been treated simplistically by historians as a direct description of the Maurya state and administration. Such a treatment is problematic because it is a theoretical treatise, not a descriptive work, and although its origins could date to the Maurya period, its compositional history extends into the early centuries ce.11
As for the Nītisāra, historians have cited stray references from the text to illustrate aspects of Gupta or post-Gupta polity, administration and revenue systems, but the text as a whole has not received the attention it deserves. This, in spite of the fact that it acquired an authoritative reputation, being cited in many later Indian works and also travelling to Southeast Asia.12 The scholarly neglect of the work may have been in part because of problems of dating, but the most important reason why it has not been taken seriously enough is that Kāmandaka has been viewed as a derivative, unoriginal thinker who tried to simply parrot Kauṭilya’s ideas, sometimes incorrectly.13 This essay seeks to prove that a close reading of the Nītisāra does not support such an assessment. It is also emphasised that political treatises of this kind have to be recognised as important sources for and, in fact, as important constituent elements of, ancient and early medieval polities.
Because of its śāstric nature, the Nītisāra should certainly not be read as a direct description of how states were actually governed or royal policies formulated during the time of the Gupta and Vākāṭaka empires and their immediate aftermath. And yet, it offers a perceptive, graphic morphology—often abstract rather than literal—of the structure and relationships of monarchical power politics of its time. This morphology was rooted in various things: the genre and scholarly tradition within which the text situated itself, the specific historical and political context in which it was produced, and the ideas and perspective of the author, including his philosophical moorings.
Beyond the question of what such texts can tell us about the times in which they were written, it is also necessary to recognise their great influence. The authors of such treatises were learned Brāhmaṇas, at least some of whom were closely associated with royal courts. The presumed audience—and also, in large part, the subject—of these works was the ‘political class’: people associated with the exercise of political power in various ways. This included kings (more specifically the vijigīṣu—the king desirous of extensive conquest), royal officials, counselors, courtiers,14 military commanders, ambassadors and others. Texts like the Nītisāra are, therefore, not only representative of a political discourse rooted in the political realities of their time, but also made an impact on those realities. It should also be noted that the ideas of the political theorists were known, absorbed and expressed in poetry, drama, didactic stories and sayings, and reached wider audiences through written, oral and performative traditions.
Tradition, Authority and Debate
Before entering into an analysis of the political discourse of the Nītisāra, it is necessary to look carefully at certain general issues related to the production of knowledge in ancient and early medieval India. Ancient śāstric discourse on politics was part of an intellectual milieu marked by continuous and wide-ranging debate, a fact often masked by the constant invoking of tradition. Texts that came to be considered authoritative often claimed to be abridged (saṁkṣipta) versions of earlier works.15 New scholarship presented itself as part of a venerable tradition of long standing, absorbing the latter’s weight and authority through association, even if it disagreed with that tradition in radical ways. In fact, it can be argued—and this point is borne out by the Arthaśāstra—that in spite of the great premium placed on tradition, disagreement with earlier authorities ultimately contributed to a scholar’s reputation.16
Citations were an important way of positioning a new text and author in relation to older scholarly traditions. In the Nītisāra, there are references to the collective wisdom of the vṛddha (elderly), vidyāvṛddha (those mature in wisdom), vidu (learned ones) and those described as maṇḍalajña (experts in the science of the maṇḍalas), arthajña (experts in artha), śāstrārthacintaka (those who think about the meaning of the śāstras) and pūrva munis (sages of the olden days). The text also refers in two places to popular wisdom embodied in laukika verses.17 Kāmandaka cites various specific schools and authorities—the Mānavas, Indra, Maya, Bṛhaspati, Uśanas, Viṣṇugupta, Puloma, Śukra, Viśālākṣa, Parāśara and Bharadvāja—expressing his agreement or disagreement with them.18 These are cited frequently in other ancient texts (including, for instance, the Arthaśāstra and the Mahābhārata) as authorities on the science of politics and on dharma. The fact that the maximum number of differing views are cited in the section on maṇḍalayoni (‘the nave of the circle of kings’, Nītisāra [NS] 8.12) suggests that the conduct of inter-state relations was a topic of especially heated debate. This is being emphasised here because the authors of ancient Indian texts have often been considered as amorphous ‘types’, completely smothered by tradition and the convention of their genre, with little scope for expressing their distinctive points of view.
While Bṛhaspati is the most frequently cited authority in the Nītisāra, it is Viṣṇugupta, alias Kauṭilya, the author of the Arthaśāstra—referred to on two occasions as ‘our guru’19—who holds the preeminent position for Kāmandaka. The text opens with a salutation to the god Gaṇeśa, the king,20 and Viṣṇugupta, in that order. The eulogy of Viṣṇugupta (NS 1.2–6) describes him as one who was born in a great lineage with descendants famous all over the world for their ṛṣi-like conduct in not accepting gifts of any kind; who was as effulgent as the sacrificial fire; who was so well-versed in the Vedas that he had mastered through his intellect all four of them as though they were one; who through his powers, as irresistible as furious thunder, had uprooted the great and powerful Nandas; who, like the god Śaktidhara (Kārttikeya), through the exercise of his mantraśakti (power of counsel) had single-handedly secured the world for Candragupta, the moon among men; the learned one, who had produced the nectar of nītiśāstra out of the mighty ocean of arthaśāstra. The precise identity and background of the author or authors of many ancient Indian texts is often elusive. But this description of Viṣṇugupta can be read as a portrait of the political Brāhmaṇa—the kind of advisor considered by Kāmandaka to be most suited (and most likely) to deliver the teaching on politics. This may well have been a self-portrait of Kāmandaka himself. The connection with Viṣṇugupta was also important for establishing the bona fides and boundaries of the discipline that the Nītisāra dealt with, and that is probably why Kāmandaka ascribes the invention of nītiśāstra to his famous predecessor.
The Nītisāra describes its subject of inquiry as nīti (explained as derived from nayana, leading or administering) (NS 2.15),21 daṇḍanīti and rājavidyā. The Arthaśāstra and Nītisāra have major overlaps in content and concerns and share a common political vocabulary, including the key ideas and theories of the saptāṅga rājya (the seven-limbed state), rājamaṇḍala (the circle of kings) and ṣāḍguṇya (the six measures in the context of inter-state relations). But there is also much that is different, not only in style—the Arthaśāstra is in the aphoristic sūtra style interspersed with a few verses, while the Nītisāra is entirely in verse—but also in specific details and over-all tenor. For instance, a detailed discussion of internal administration and civil and criminal law are missing in the Nītisāra, as is the advocacy of strict state control over various aspects of the economy, often considered the hall-mark of the Arthaśāstra. This reflects the narrower scope of nītiśāstra as compared with arthaśāstra, as well as differences in views about the potential state held by Kauṭilya and Kāmandaka. Both were concerned with political expansion and consolidation, but the Nītisāra does not share the Arthaśāstra’s grandiose and overwhelming vision of state power. Neither does its author share Kauṭilya’s faith in the efficacy of black magic as a political and military tool, a detailed discussion of which is absent in the text. And, as we shall see later, Kāmandaka also disagreed with Kauṭilya on various specific issues related to the interface between kingship and violence. It is necessary to emphasise this point, because as mentioned above, many scholars have mistakenly described the Nītisāra as an unoriginal derivative text which repeats, often poorly, the ideas of the Arthaśāstra.
In the many-faceted and vibrant intellectual milieu of ancient and early medieval India, disciplinary boundaries were understood and the political treatises selfconsciously situate themselves within a larger knowledge universe. But knowledge and ideas also readily flowed across disciplinary boundaries. The texts on polity share with the Dharmaśāstra and philosophical texts ideas related to karma (the consequences of action), rebirth, caturvarga/trivarga (the four or three goals of human life) and varṇāśrama dharma (dharma based on varṇa and āśrama). In fact, V.P. Varma points out that the metaphysical foundations of ancient Indian political thought had important implications for the kinds of questions that the latter asked and did not ask.22 The texts on polity and Dharmaśāstra share a concern about ethics, and the political theorists in fact constructed a sub-specie of dharma, one that was geared towards the realisation of the political goals of the king.
