Transverse

This is a translation of Jeyamohan’s தற்கல்வியும் தத்துவமும் – 1.

Whenever philosophical education comes up in Tamil Nadu, many people raise their hands to say they’re interested in philosophical practice. Most have read books by philosophy teachers, spiritual orators, or religious leaders – and they’ve read these works with great intensity.

These readers share certain characteristics. They typically discover these books while searching for direction or stability in their lives, and the basic philosophical vision introduced through them is often enough to help release them from their predicament. The books help them deal with problems of equilibrium, lifting them beyond primitive emotions and the daily politics of life. This is their primary utility. Compared to reading about political parties – which invariably drives people toward bitterness, negativity, and artificial anxiety – these books are far superior. They help readers approach life with confidence and foster a sense of contentment. For these reasons, I believe such books serve an important purpose.

However, some readers of spiritual philosophy continue reading without a clear sense of what they’re seeking. They keep moving from one saint to another, believing they’re progressing. I’ve heard people say, “I read Osho for a while, but now I’ve moved on to J. Krishnamurti.” In reality, they haven’t moved anywhere. To truly move beyond a saint means reaching the actual state that saint has attained – and then taking another step. One must become bigger than Osho to transcend Osho. When someone thinks they’ve moved past Osho, it simply means they didn’t find what they were looking for in his teachings and conversations. That’s all.

Without clarity about what they’re seeking, such readers cannot gauge whether they’re moving forward, going in circles, or stuck in place. Yet the continuous reading itself helps them grow. Compared to most other activities, this reading brings them together. Anything that focuses a person’s attention liberates them. Such reading, at any level, is always useful. The words of philosophical scholars and saints – rare and precious – are blessings. But does reading these texts constitute philosophical education? Can one teach oneself philosophy? How much room does philosophy offer for self-education?

My first response: reading spiritual texts is a valuable gateway to philosophy. These are the texts we encounter early in life, so naturally, at certain stages, we enter them easily. They help us examine our lives holistically and consider life from first principles. This practice can propel someone toward philosophy. Since spiritual texts constantly express abstract, internal, intuitive sensibilities, reading them benefits anyone invested in literature and poetry – which are essentially attempting the same thing.

Philosophical texts possess an expressivity comparable to poetry in their brevity, depth, and clarity. In them, one can see a language’s highest possibilities. It’s difficult to find an Indian literary writer in English whose command of the language matches that of philosophers like Aurobindo Ghosh or J. Krishnamurti. The style required to express these ideas implicitly sharpens the language.

In my observation, people who read such philosophical texts tend to recall a few memorable lines. As a reader of literature, one naturally remembers (and categorizes) a philosopher based on the imprint they’ve left – primarily through a set of their sayings.

Philosophy operates under constant pressure to express deep ideas clearly and concisely. When it loses these qualities, it loses the essence of what makes something philosophical. Those who’ve read philosophy may have observed that when a profound idea is expressed in sharp, concise language, it becomes a vision – a definition and declaration. If the same idea is expanded across many pages in simple language, it merely appears as discussion.

Gandhi mentioned this in his conversation with Pyarelal about Marxism: “He’s only making a simple argument. But because of its depth and brevity, it becomes an ideology.” Gandhi believed truth cannot emerge from intellectual discussion; truth must be a self-sustaining vision, whatever its means of expression. A piece of truth derived from discussion becomes diluted when applied to practical life in various ways. Truth that loses its value is merely intellectualism – it isn’t truth at all.

Readers of spiritual texts, through exposure to sheer linguistic force, sharpen their linguistic sensibilities without realizing it. While this gives them intellectual contentment, they mistake this for actual learning.

We tend to think the effort spent learning something determines its value as learning. We believe the fruit plucked from the top of a tree tastes sweeter because we unconsciously transfer the effort of climbing onto the fruit itself. But philosophy experienced through language is inherently a linguistic experience, not a philosophical one. Readers of these texts are not learning philosophy. The memorable lines and the thoughts they trigger are not philosophical understanding.

Philosophy is not a collection of assorted ideas; it can only exist as a unified framework. Primarily, philosophy is a logical construct supported by foundational knowledge, which in turn rests on a unique perspective and a unique realm of experience.

Philosophy must always be learned, recalled, and discussed as a unified entity. Breaking this unity – recalling or discussing only a subset of its characteristics – results in partial, erroneous, or even completely incorrect understanding.

Any specific branch of philosophy is thoroughly integrated in all directions. It’s interconnected with other branches it dialogues with and with branches it has borrowed from. This makes it a node in a network, situated within a unified philosophical plane. One cannot truly understand Advaita without understanding the six pramanas.

One can read spiritual and philosophical texts to focus attention, find motivation, and achieve contentment. Literary readers and writers can engage these texts for their linguistic sharpness. These texts can serve as an entry point to philosophy. But we must be clear: reading such texts is not the same as philosophical education.