29th October 2010
The battle between reason and speculative belief in ancient India
I am working on a post to critically evaluate the so-called scientific advances of ancient India.
I chanced upon valuable information about ancient Indian science: Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya's book SCIENCE AND SOCIETY IN ANCIENT INDIA (also here), published by Research India Publications, Calcutta 1977.
Chattopadhyaya was founder Chairman of Indian Council of Philosophical Research, and conducted extensive research on the alternative schools of ancient Indian philosophy of Lokayata, as well as history of science and scientific method in ancient India, especially his work on the ancient physicians, Caraka and Susruta. He also wrote "History of Science and Technology in Ancient India; The Beginnings". I need to find these books urgently. Please let me know of other books that could be useful in such analysis.
Below are a few extracts from a review article published in Social Scientist (Review: The Assault on Science in Ancient India, G. Ramakrishna, Social Scientist, Vol. 6, No. 11 (Jun., 1978), pp. 77-83). In the draft DOF, I've written extensively that I can't find evidence of critical thinking in mainstream Hinduism. That view is re-affirmed by this review.
EXTRACT FROM THE REVIEW
[In] ancient India … the scientists fought a grim and relentless battle in their own way to assert the simple truth that "knowledge is the child of time and experience and not of authority". This particularly so is the case of ancient Indian medicine which scoffed at wild speculation and unsubstantiated conclusions and advocated and practised a rational foolproof method for evaluating any claim concerning medicine.
One of the foremost texts embodying the results of centuries of patient observation and deduction from the point of view of the art of healing in ancient India is the Caraka Samhita. In no uncertain terms does this treatise stipulate that a discussion in the sphere of medical science should strictly be limited by factors relevant to that discipline and not be clouded or marred by extrinsic or irrelevant factors, no matter how powerful or fascinating the source of that factor be. [T]he norms of ritualistic and religious practice or of metaphysics cannot be blindly applied in matters of medical science. This position helped in raising science at once to the heights of rationalism in ancient India.
The attack which medical science had to face was in fact directed against every science which had no direct bearing on the brahminical rituals of the time. Most often, the rigours of such a process resulted in the compromise which science made with its virulent and diehard opponents.
Long before medieval Europe presented this dilemma to the Galileos and the Descartes, ancient Indian legal authorities forced the issue on their contemporary physicians. The happy part of the story is that by and large the physicians acquitted themselves creditably and sometimes even nobly. It is to their credit that they successfully broke the barriers of the obnoxious but unquestioned institution of caste division in society and reached the lowly and the meek with whatever succour they could provide.
[D]uring the age of the Yajurveda, the divine healers, namely the Asvins were ostracised from the company of the gods for no other reason than that they polluted themselves by practising medicine. The Asvins are celebrated as the most truthful and the wondrous in the Rigveda. They are physicians par excellence with a number of medical feats to their credit. But these very gods came to be censured in the Yajurveda, which set the tone for the hideous chorus of subsequent periods.
The priestly class which had stretched rituals to extraordinarily ridiculous limits happened to be the maker of these legal codes and as ordainers of the law, the chief lawmakers belonging to this class became ardent champions of an order of s:ciety in which their leisure and dividends were both protected along with the interests of the ruling class. The unfortunate physicians of ancient India attracted the attention of these lawmakers at a time when they were developing the science of medicine.
[T]he physicians were specially chosen for derision and contempt by the lawgivers.
A genuine and honest physician is bound to be catholic and thus in practice an opponent of caste-divided society. For him, the man with disease is the subject for treatment; obviously, he cuts across caste barriers, much to the annoyance of the lawgivers who are champions of the social pyramid with themselves at the top. As if this were not enough, the creed of the physicians calls into question the belief in the law of karma also. The persecution of physicians and other scientists in ancient India, therefore, is not something strange; it is a necessity for the leisured classes belonging to the top echelons of society.
The scientists were, however, not prepared to give in. [I]t is thanks to Debiprasad Chattopadhyaya that the rigours faced by ancient Indian scientists can now be better understood by us. [H]e has analysed the obstructions faced by science because of the "counter-ideology" spearheaded by the lawgivers.
The third chapter provides a … critical analysis of the crucial source-book in Indian medicine namely the Caraka Samhita. The remarkable thing about the methodology adopted by the ancient Indian physicians is that "discarding scripture orientation, they insist on the supreme importance of direct observation of natural phenomena and on the technique of rational processing of the empirical data. They go even to the extent of claiming that the truth of any conclusion thus arrived at is to be tested ultimately by the criterion of practice" (p 7).
The perceptive physician learns through observation and experience, and for him "the entire world is the teacher, as it is the foe of the fool" as the Caraka Samhita puts it (p 63). Those who hope to keep the body of man in a fit condition naturally believe that "without the knowledge of nature, the knowledge of man remains incomplete" (p 54); Nature amply testifies to these physicians the fact that "every thing in nature occurs according to some immutable laws, the body of which is usually called svabhava in Indian thought" (p 64).
Unmoved by the aweinspiring declamations of the stout metaphysicians,our ancient physicians coolly proceed with the assumption that "everything (in the discipline of medicine) is viewed as made of matter in five forms"; in other words, "from the medical viewpoint there can be nothing which is not made of matter" (p 66). Indirectly it is even admitted by them that consciousness is the product of matter when they say that "a substance is called conscious when it is endowed with the sense-organs" (p 72) and that the sense-organs are only the products of matter.
Grounded in near materialism as they are,they conceive knowledge including the knowledge of medicine, as something progressive and cumulative. Empiricism is their forte and that leads them to ever new questions concerning the nature of matter and the efficacy of certain forms of matter as drugs. They have no illusion that they have ultimate solutions to the questions but the urge to move on is irresistible in their case.
[T]he postulates of ancient Indian medicine are that the processes in nature follow some definite law, that these are knowable even if they are not already known, and that the knowledge of these laws gives man a certain power over nature (p 183).
[I]n the Caraka Samhita is recorded an emphatic view on the question: what brings about cure? The intrinsic efficacy of the drug administered to the patient or the "unseen hangovers of actions performed in past lives" (adrishta, as it is called)? The text says that "the action of a substance is determined exclusively by the substance itself and it is not influenced by anything else" (Karma na anyat apekshate) (p 154). …The repeated stress on the importance of the knowledge of the law of causation leaves us in no doubt that the ancient physicians were quite severe in their demands on the scientists' methodology and practice.
The Caraka Samhita unequivocally declares that chance successes do not enhance the prestige of medicine when it says that "any success attained without reasoning is as good as sheer accidental success" (vina tarkena ya siddhih yadriccha siddhireva sa) (p 201).
[T]he ancient Indian physicians … were dedicated to bringing succour to all, irrespective of caste distinctions. The priestly class could not put up with this broad-minded ness, perhaps. Moreover, it found no nobility in work, as all work was the special duty of the downgraded people. In any case, no brahmin could be allowed to stoop to such a mean level as to become a physician. The Upanishads which claim to teach "higher knowledge" (para vidya) as opposed to "lower knowledge" (or mundane knowledge; apara vidya) do not so much as condescend to mention even one physician; so contemptible are the physicians. The lawgivers, acting as the ideologues of the ruling class, stipulate that the practice of medicine must be restricted to the "base- born". Manu is absolutely emphatic about it. No less emphatic is another lawgiver, Vasishtha, who among other things says that he who makes his living by the practice of medicine cannot be called a brahmin (p 216).
There are a few pet myths concerning ancient Indian life that stand exploded in the course of Chattopadhyaya's vivisection of the medical literature of the past; but that is only incidental. Thus, for instance, he shows how not-withstanding the alleged reverence for the cow, the physicians prescribed beef as a nutrient. In fact, they even advocated the adoption of devious methods to administer certain kinds of food to the patients by passing them off as something else. Accordingly, for a physician it is not any gross transgression of traditional morality to give beef in the name of deer's flesh or fried worms in the name of intestines of fish to the patient so long as he is satisfied that the patient needs it. That is medical ethics stealing a march over traditional morality.




