vṛttayaḥ pañcatayyaḥ kliṣṭākliṣṭāḥ (I.5)
pramāṇa-viparyaya-vikalpa-nidrā-smṛtayaḥ (I.6)
Last month, with the help of the commentaries, we explored the nature of citta in terms of its three constituents: mind, ego and intellect. Patañjali himself follows a different path in the opening section of the Yoga Sūtras, giving us a window into the nature of citta through an exploration of what the mind does, what kinds of activities (cittavṛtti) it is capable of performing. In doing so, he is following his preferred practice of relating abstract metaphysical terms directly to human experience.
Cittavṛtti overview
Our conscious mental life is made up of a constantly flowing stream of cittavṛttis, consisting of events such as perceptions, memories and dreams. Patañjali defines yoga as a practice intended to stem this constant stream, otherwise we seem to have little control over our thoughts and get defined by them. The commentators note that the cittavṛttis are countless—there are a lot of human beings out there thinking lots of different thoughts! Faced with such an overwhelmingly diverse landscape of human thought, this could pose a challenge for those seeking to calm its tide. Patañjali, however, claims that human thought can be fully described by a framework of five broad categories (which on closer examination is actually seven in number—see below). The five types of cittavṛtti listed in I.6 are:
(i) pramāṇa (instruments of knowledge, further divided into three in I.7: perception (pratyakṣa); inference (anumāna) and verbal testimony, including scriptural knowledge (āgama))
(ii) viparyaya (perceptual illusion)
(iii) vikalpa (conceptual construction)
(iv) nidrā (deep, dreamless sleep)
(v) smṛti (memory, including dreaming)
In addition to this five-fold classification, Patañjali tells us that the cittavṛttis can be further organized into two main types, those that are afflicted (kliṣṭa), versus those that are not (a-kliṣṭa). The terms kliṣṭa/akliṣṭa come from the same verbal root—√kliś/to suffer—as kleṣa (affliction). Patañjali is obviously creating a link here between the five afflictions (described in II.3-9) and the cittavṛttis. We have already studied the five afflictions and the role that they play in fueling those thoughts and actions which cause us to suffer. At the very beginning of his text, therefore, he is intimating that our everyday patterns of thought are pervaded by the afflictions, and this is why we need to change our habits of thought.
The section on the different types of cittavṛttis, though brief, is philosophically rich, giving us a clear demonstration of Patañjali’s deep connections to the broader philosophical landscape of his time. It is therefore well worth the effort to go through them one by one. This month we will begin with pramāṇa, the first of the five types of cittavṛtti.
Pramāṇa overview
A pramāṇa is a tool/instrument that gives us knowledge about the world in which we live.
Our very survival in this world requires such tools. Hence, Indian thinkers across the philosophical spectrum placed a great deal of effort into thinking about how we can acquire knowledge. By the time of the Yoga Sūtras, India had a well-established pramāṇa theory; that is, a theory about which tools reliably lead to knowledge. Hence, we see the flourishing of practices such as medicine and agriculture, which required sound methodologies for achieving empirical knowledge about the world. Sometimes yoga itself is classified as a science insofar as it is a technique based on an empirical understanding of the human condition and how to change it for the better. Pramāṇas make all of this possible.
The pramāṇas provided a shared system for measuring the worth of rival philosophical positions.
At the time of Patañjali, we see the crystallization of Indian philosophical thinking into different traditions: Buddhism and Jainism, for example, and several distinct philosophical schools within Hinduism. This created a vibrant philosophical/religious landscape with a great deal of discussion and debate between all of the different schools of thought. Indian philosophers successfully established an agreed-upon set of instruments (pramāṇas) whereby different views could be adjudicated. The pramāṇas were, therefore, key for the fruitfulness of philosophical debate in classical India, fostering a climate of intellectual civility despite differences of opinion.
The pramāṇas play a key role in the quest for liberation.
Patañjali teaches that ignorance (avidyā) is the source of human suffering. The removal of ignorance is at the heart of human liberation, and enlightenment is equated with knowledge. One would expect, therefore, that the pramāṇas would play an important role in the quest for liberation, since they are our tools for achieving knowledge. The relationship between spiritual freedom and the pramāṇas is complicated, however, because the type of knowledge involved in liberation is different from the worldly knowledge derived from the pramāṇas. The pramāṇas do, however, play a key role in the spiritual quest, ensuring both clear philosophical thinking and the formulation of practices that bring about their intended results.
Patañjali accepts three different tools for achieving knowledge about the world, which we will consider separately.
(i) Perception → pratyakṣa (literally: before the eyes)
Perception is the basis for all of the other forms of knowledge.
Patañjali seems to regard perception as the most important of the cittavṛttis since it heads the list of the pramāṇas, which in turn head the list of the cittavṛttis. It is our ability to perceive the world (see, hear, touch, taste, smell) that allows us to successfully interact with and have knowledge about the world we inhabit. Perception is the most important of all of the pramāṇas, and all of our knowledge about the world can traced back to someone’s perception. Patañjali’s view here is in accord with a broader shift in Indian thinking at this time, which recognized knowledge gained from direct personal experience to be more spiritually valuable than ritual knowledge, the preferred form of religious knowledge in earlier times.
Perception is connected to the other cittavṛttis and to the kleṣas.
The importance of perception in Patañjali’s thinking cannot be over emphasized, yet there are ways in which our perceptions can be compromised. We will examine this further next time when we turn to viparyaya and vikalpa, two further cittavṛttis on Patañjali’s list. Furthermore, perception for most of us is not a neutral activity but is linked to egoism, attachment and aversion, generating feelings of happiness and sadness. Perception, therefore, is at the root of our attachment to the world of prakṛti. Yet at the same time, liberation, although not ordinary perception, is clearly linked to the idea of the practitioner having some direct experience of their true nature, rather than a second-hand type of knowledge.
(ii) Inference → anumāna (literally: following on from)
Inference extends our knowledge beyond direct perception.
Anumāna literally means “following on from,” capturing the idea that inference follows on from perception and extends our knowledge beyond what is given immediately in perception. The development of inferential thinking in India was key for the success of empirical inquiry and philosophical discussion.
Anumāna establishes relationships between kinds of things.
Inference is used to establish relationships (vyāpti) between types of things. The challenge is to distinguish between coincidence and genuine causal relationships in the world. This allows us to infer the existence of phenomena not directly perceived by the senses. The classic example used by all Indian philosophers as an example of anumāna is the inference of fire on the hill from seeing smoke on the hill, because smoke is a reliable sign (liṅga) of fire. We see that the smoke in the kitchen comes from the fire in the kitchen and we go from there, seeing if the same connection exists in other contexts. The use of an example is distinctive in Indian logic—showing how we build up our knowledge of the world on the basis of numerous individual observations. Such empirical investigation would eventually justify the claim that there is a causal (rather than a coincidental) connection between smoke and fire, so smoke can be taken as a reliable indicator (liṅga) of fire. Anumāna is a tool that allows us to discern the natural causal connections in the world –we can view it as a form of scientific induction, moving from the particular to the general, allowing us to infer the existence of the unseen from the seen.
Anumāna can help us to avoid false views (bhrānti darśana).
Patañjali is not a traditional philosopher in the sense that he does not focus on building inferential arguments for his positions in the Yoga Sūtras. His teaching is more directed towards describing the human predicament and providing us with a practical path that leads us to an intuitive form of liberating Self-knowledge. Yet practice does not take place in a theoretical vacuum—the surrounding philosophical view gives any practice its rationale and purpose. Thus, having false views (bhrānti darśana) is listed among the obstacles to progress in yoga (I.30), and good argumentation can help us to avoid false views. In the fourth and final pāda of the Yoga Sūtras, for example, we see Patañjali presenting his arguments to counter those Buddhist philosophers who rejected the idea of an unchanging Self. We also see his support for anumāna in passages such as II.33-34, where we are encouraged to formulate counter-positions (prati-pakṣa) to dissuade us from acts which are harmful.
(iii) Verbal testimony → āgama (literally: arrival)
Āgama recognizes our dependence on the broader community for knowledge acquisition.
The third of the pramānas is āgama or verbal testimony. This is a recognition that the enterprise of gathering knowledge is not an individual, but a social enterprise. As an individual, I am not able to obtain all of my knowledge from direct experience (pratyakṣa), nor am I able to conduct all of the investigation (anumāna) needed to understand the causal structure of the world. We rely a great deal on other members of our community for the knowledge that we have, and much of what we claim to know is a kind of “second-hand” knowledge, passed on to us by our teachers and other experts. This kind of knowledge is central to the practice of yoga, in which knowledge is initially passed on from teacher to student through a direct lineage of teachers (known as paramparā).
Āgama requires reliable people to transmit knowledge.
Verbal testimony, if it is to be means of knowledge, rests on the reliability of the person transmitting the knowledge. A reliable person is classified as an āpta—the classical commentators say that such individuals should have keen sense perception, should be compassionate, trustworthy, free of laziness and deceit. A good teacher has achieved their own knowledge directly through perception and inference and wants to impart this knowledge faithfully to their students. Āgama ultimately traces back to the perceptions of those individuals passing on the knowledge, again affirming the primacy of pratyakṣa as an instrument of knowledge.
Scripture is an important category of āgama.
The term śruti (lit. “heard”) is used to refer to authoritative scriptures. The idea behind this term is that the scriptures were initially revealed to ancient sages (ṛṣis) who were able to directly “hear” the truths contained in them, truths received from God, a being who had directly perceived the eternal truths of the cosmos. Thus, scripture itself is traced back to a perception, albeit the perception of a divine being.
Concluding thoughts
Sometimes it is said that we live in a post-truth world. More and more we see disagreements between two parties accompanied by rancor and hostility, and debates are won and lost on the basis of power and subterfuge rather than reasoned argument. Indian philosophers, in contrast, believed in the idea of truth, that the cosmos has a specific nature and modes of operation. They believed that the pramāṇas give us knowledge about this world we inhabit. Public debate was at the heart of Indian philosophy and was the testing ground for rival views. It was well recognized in the tradition that there was a crucial difference between debate as a competitive activity versus debate as a truth-seeking instrument. At the beginning of his long debate with King Milinda, the Buddhist monk Nagasena wryly observed:
“When scholars debate, your majesty, there is summing up and unraveling of a theory, convincing and conceding, there is also defeat, and yet the scholars do not get angry at all. When the Kings debate, your Majesty, they state their thesis, and if anyone differs from them, they order him punished, saying ‘Inflict punishment upon him.’”
(Questions of King Milinda, translated by Trenckner in Matilal p. 33)
Indian philosophers from all of the different schools agreed that arguments should be settled with reference to the pramāṇas rather than demagoguery. To go back to our original example, if I claim that there is fire on the hill, it should be because I have seen the fire, or I have seen the smoke and I can show that smoke is a reliable indicator of fire, or finally, that a reliable informant has told me so. If differences are not adjudicated through reasoned debate, truth is the first casualty, often resulting in a strife-ridden society. The pramāṇas are closely linked to the ethical virtues of non-harming (ahiṁsa) and truthfulness in speech (satya), reminding us that we each have a societal duty towards maintaining an intellectual climate where truth can flourish.
In the invocation to Patañjali, sometimes chanted at the beginning of class, Patañjali is celebrated for his contributions to medicine, grammar and yoga. This demonstrates that knowledge gained from empirical investigation (medicine) and clear thinking (in India associated with grammar) is valued in the yoga tradition, alongside the intuitive knowledge that comes from the practice of yoga. Although largely ignored by the western philosophical canon, India developed a rich understanding of how humans acquire knowledge about the world, and discerned the logic underlying good argumentation. These insights developed in India at around the same time as Aristotelian logic developed in ancient Greece. Indian philosophers did not shy away from differences and vigorously defended their views within a platform of public debate. They were knowledgeable of each other’s views, learned from each other and sometimes amended their ideas if they recognized the validity of external criticism. This contributed to a philosophically rich and vibrant tradition that allowed for the different schools to develop and change over time. This model of difference without hostility is one we would do well to emulate.
Joy Laine taught philosophy at Macalester College for over thirty years and teaches Iyengar Yoga around the Twin Cities.
Sources and Further Study
B.K. Matilal, The Character of Logic in India. OUP, 2000.
Rama Prasada, The Yoga Darśana of Patañjali. Logos Press, 1912/2005.
