Greetings! I have recently devoured the thesis by Lauren Bausch titled “Kosalan Philosophy in the Kāṇva Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa and the Suttanipāta.” I highly recommend it, and will be leaving some quick thoughts on it here to spark some potential discussion and offer a slight warning to those who may read it with some things to watch out for.
I am not going to try and summarize Bausch’s thorough analyses and arguments. Read the thesis! Essentially though, she is contributing to our understanding of the Buddha’s teaching and the context in which his teaching began and developed — both in his own personal life and in conveying his realizations to others. She looks at the region of Kosala and the Eastern Vedic tradition(s) that developed and thrived there—the Kāṇva śākhā specifically. A large part of the thesis is related to furthering our understanding of the philosophical systems in the Brāhmaṇas—sacred commentaries on the main Vedas—which have historically been ridiculed and thought of as non-sensical or ignorant of the meaning of the Veda.
Bausch demonstrates quite the opposite: that these texts are not philosophically incoherent, and that the Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa specifically—much of which is the teaching of a sage named Yājñavalkya, also attributed as the author for certain sections of the connected Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad—is actually a complex development of the cognitive and psychological aspects of older Vedic rituals which contain the seeds for the ideas of karmic retribution, the āsavas, purificaiton and liberation from dukkha, saṃsāra, etc. She demonstrates that the Kāṇva Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa (ŚBK) is much more connected ideologically to the Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad (BAU) than previously thought, and that Yājñavalkya mostly likely truly was the author of the sections of kāṇḍas attributed to him in both texts (as far as we can reasonably assume). This ideological consistency re-establishes the Brāhmaṇas (and earlier Vedas altogether) with the connected Upaniṣads to give a much more clean evolution of ideas across time.
This is then extended over to the ideology of the Sutta Nipāta specifically, a representative of certain philosophical ideas characteristic of the Kosalan region and shared between the above ŚBK/BAU and the suttas of the Snp. The author—building off of Richard Gombrich and Joanna Jurewicz’s ground-breaking comparative work between Buddhist and Vedic thought, as well as a series of other brilliant scholars—connects the historical Buddha Gotama to the teachings prevalent in the Kāṇva school’s Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa and the ideas of the ṛṣi and muni Yājñavalkya / the brahmins in this school of thought generally focused on the internalized, muni-aspects introduced to it by Yājñavalkya himself.
Besides the fascinating analyses of the agnihotra and other Vedic rituals as envisioned by Yājñavalkya, the most relevant points of Kosalan philosophy shared between the Vedic tradition and early Buddhism as portrayed in the Sutta Nipāta are the following:
- Āsava, Āhāra, Loka and Upadhi (etc.) as connected to Vedic ideas of karmic retribution and the purification of cognition as seen in these eastern schools of thought
- The internalization of ritual via mindful observance of one’s mind and cognitive processes to overcome repeated death or being ‘eaten’ — instead purifying one’s cognition from karmic influences and transcending karma
- The motifs of a snake shedding its skin, the far shore, the boat/crossing over, fire, floods and streams, and saññā/paññā
- The ideals of the muni, going forth, the spiritual brāhmaṇa, true vedagū, external ritual vs. internal cultivation
(Note: the discussion of dhī́ (धी) was also fascinating, though shorter, and perhaps relevant to our understanding of jhāna and where it comes from—at least on a basic conceptual level.)
The work certainly made me, at least, appreciate more the philosophical ideas of Yājñavalkya that preceded the Buddha, and to appreciate how the Buddha was both highly influenced by them and was able to transcend their faults and realize his own path. The ātman, in this system, is not an arbitrary light, consciousness, or mass of prāṇa, nor is it just a “soul.” Rather, there are deep and complex reasons why and how these ideas relate to a fuller psycho-cosmological system with soteriological ends. The discussion of āsava is, IMO, quite convincing, as are much of the other motifs and relationship to internalized ritual. I was not as convinced by the discussion of upadhi which I find much more minor and could simply be a question of etymology, but I have yet to really think on it more. The other motifs, shared imagery, etc. etc. are quite obvious and fascinating!
It is important to remember that the author is only claiming to go off the Buddha as represented in the Sutta Nipāta; although she does discuss the chronological stratification of the text and makes some assesments accordingly, she does not question the material itself beyond the information from this temporal stratification. This is somewhat of a downside, though. The Sutta Nipāta being given special status as a kind of hidden-layer of Buddhist knowledge that has been covered up by the other prose suttas is quite the common trope. That is not to say that the author has this attitude or that the Snp does not contain compelling early material, but it can at times read or incline one to that mindset, and I think it’s important for people going into this thesis to know that this is simply not the case. @sujato has discussed this in several posts on this forum, IIRC, and I believe that one should read those beforehand to be a little bit more informed about the nature of these texts coming from Buddhist scholars.
The other thing to watch out for is the discrete eternalism echoing throughout the text that does not fully reveal itself until the very end. The author consistently uses some “dog-whistle” like translations—such as ‘conditioned becoming’ for bhava—that build up to the final paragraphs of the conclusion, where she rather quickly and nonchalantly asserts that Yājñavalkya / the ascetic Brahmins in this lineage and the Buddha’s goal were, in fact, mostly the same—namely, an undying and immortal pure awareness that is different from dual-knowing or discriminative consciousness and apperception. Moreover, she theorizes that the anattā doctrine is to counteract the more reified, gross forms of ātman that cropped up—not Yājñavalkya’s more subtle and nuanced idea of the ātman which was more profound.
Thankfully, the evidence that the author presents is largely opposed to this conclusion she makes despite of it. Shortly before, she says:
While comparisons to neighboring schools and other religions provide valuable information, the first step to describing a regional philosophy is to identify the ideas and practices found therein. After chronicling what is being articulated in a given region, comparisons can then be made to other Vedic schools and associated religions, such as Buddhism.
As I am not familiar with the author’s familiarity with the early Buddhist suttas at the time of writing this dissertation, I cannot say with much certainty whether she had assessed counter-evidence. However, I will say, she seems to have failed to done so in the case of Buddhism. The use of paññā and its relationship to viññāṇa is made clear and the early Buddhist goal of the ‘far shore’ is not one of an unmanifest awareness as in the Brahminical Yājñavalkyan school of thought.
Indeed, the author discusses in the article how the Uraga Sutta (Snp 1.1) mentions transcending the near and the far shores, and how this is seemingly contradictory to many Buddhist commentators. She seems to recognize that this could indeed be more complicated, but then goes on to construe the Brahminic goal of “reaching the far shore” of immortality in the non-dual unmanifest with the Buddhist far shore.
I would argue that the Uraga Sutta—in evoking the same images of the SBK and BAU of a snake shedding its skin for reaching the far shore—is actually referring to the ‘far shore’ of the Vedas and Upaniṣads here, not just plain rebirth nor the Buddhist conception of Nibbāna. It is establishing the Sutta Nipāta’s relationship to Brahminism right from the start: not a rejection, polemic, or anti-Brahminical narrative, nor one identical to it. Despite being in a closely related muni-tradition, the Uraga Sutta claims that the Buddhist arahant has shed off the “far shore” just as the “near shore”—finding no substance in any state of existence or consciousness—just as a snake would shed its old skin. It is refocusing the image so tightly woven in with the far-shore in Brāhmanical and Upaniṣadic thought, and turning it into a lesson on cessation, on giving up everything—including or need to transcend the mortal world into a transcendental non-duality. The arahant has no need for such old, worn-out matters: they give it all up and transcend it all.
This complex relationship between Brahminism and Buddhism is quite well expounded—and the boundaries are indeed pushed—by Bausch. Although she seems inclined to interpret certain passages much more literally—such as vedagū potentially referring to the literal Vedas—she has shed very important light on the Buddha’s rhetoric in his life-time. See, most of us Buddhists tend to think that when the Buddha used terms like “brāhmaṇa,” “vedagū,” etc., that he was just shoving it in the faces of all the Brahmins and their religion and positing an anti-Brahminical rhetoric in his language. However, the way the Buddha uses these terms is not foreign to the Eastern Vedic tradition in the lineages of Yājñavalkya, who, especially in his more “secretive” and internalized teachings, discusses how the true brāhmaṇa is one who is realized spiritually and attains the far shore; they are one who do good and become as they act; they know the true meaning of the rituals in a spiritual, internal sense—not just an external form; they uncover the true knowledge of the vedas internally with their renunciation, meditation, and spiritual practices, not by mere memorization or performance.
Moreover, in the Buddha’s time and place, the caste system was not yet a rigid class structure or fixed by birth. Not only because these lands were not Aryan dominant, but even among the Eastern Vedic traditions, these words were not limited to birth caste. The rituals that call for brāhmaṇas, kṣatriyas, etc. were using these terms in much more of a role and spiritual-potency sense that was fluid and could shift according to context. That is to say, when the Buddha convinces brahmins that he is, in fact, a brāhmaṇa—or when brahmins in this muni tradition call the Buddha a true brāhmaṇa—he does not mean it in a necessarily anti-Brahminical sense. Rather, he is demonstrating that, just as Yājñavalkya taught and the Eastern recensions of the Vedas tended to understand, a brāhmaṇa was someone who had the potency to fulfill that role. The Buddha, when conversing with more orthodox Western brahmins, does not need to convert them to Buddhism to prove he is a brahmin. No, he only needs to switch their mindset over to one of other Brahminical schools which understood a brāhmaṇa as something more signficant, thereby allowing the brahmins to see that the Buddha does indeed qualify to be considered a brāhmaṇa.
The Buddha’s terminology is not at all dissimilar to how Yājñavalkya taught. Even the idea of crossing to the far shore, the words for going forth, etc. are precedents set by this Vedic forefather, and likely learned by the Bodhisatta before his awakening under teachers such as Āḷāra Kālāma and Uddaka Rāmaputta. We know that he still highly respected these teachers, even, and they were the first candidates he considered for teaching the Dhamma he realized. This more Brahminical tradition also does not seem to contradict the middle path between mortification and sensual-indulgence. As such, it would make a lot of sense that many of the Buddha’s conceptual frameworks, teaching style, etc. would have no problem with these Brahminical systems. Rather, he took doctrinal issue with some of their ideas, and appropriately adjusted the terminology in his own system to be able to communicate with them.
We truly can hear the Buddha’s footsteps echoing through the Vedas, to the Brāhmaṇas, and through to the early Upaniṣads in the East of North India. Not only were the seeds for a complex cognitive system already present in the earliest Veda, but sages such as Yājñavalkya watered on these seeds and promoted asceticism and spiritual cultivation, turning the meaning of ‘brahmin’ and knowledge of the Vedas somewhat upside down. Later on in history, we will see that this rich Vedic culture is erased and excluded from the officially demarcated Āryāvarta for being so unorthodox (and a number of related political reasons). With the precedent established in the Buddha’s home region by the sage Yājñavalkya, all that was needed was for someone to finally slough off that old skin of the crystallized rituals (already being pushed back from the more muni influenced Brahmin ascetics for their internal versions and interpretations) and certain metaphysical notions, while keeping the ‘good stuff’—and the Buddha did just that. Buddhism is neither anti-Brahminical nor is it reform Brahminism, but this thesis helps show how the line between these two traditions is not so clear in the earliest period; Buddhism truly is a unique form of cultural innovation building on the shoulders of those who came before while not holding back in gaining new ground or throwing out old concepts. The Buddha has the wisdom to critique what needed critiqued and to keep what should be kept, and he had some revolutionary cultural figures behind him who helped pave the way to make the conditions for his arising.
So, as a fascinating inside-look at Vedic ritual, philosophy, and soteriology, as well as a detailed analysis of the history of different terms and the shared roots between the early Buddha’s teaching and the Eastern Vedic teachings found in the Kāṇva schools—specifically the Śatapatha Brāhmaṇa and Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad—Bausch’s thesis is a great read to understand much more of the Buddha’s life story and where his ideas and terms come from. It establishes a once seemingly mysterious gap between early forms of Brahminism/Vedic thought and the Upaniṣads in a way that can bridge so many interesting correspondences between Buddhism and Vedic thought, and informs us about the philosophical landscape of Kosala in the time of the Buddha—a major area where he spent much of his life training and later teaching. I only warn those interested to watch out for some of the author’s pitfalls, in my opinion—namely, not applying the same standards of comparison and “turning the sword” on her own ideologies with the same methodology to dig out some latent ideas she may have re-planted in the Buddhadhamma that the Buddha had already done away with from his former teachers.
The full thesis can be found here for free. Hope this was somewhat helpful and if anyone has read it or has any thoughts, I’d love to hear them! Let me know if I may have made mistakes or unfair assesments.
Mettā