Review of Prithviyallodagida Ghatavu
Review: Prithviyallodagida Ghatavu presents an interesting history of Karnataka in 4 succinct chapters. It is interesting for both the new findings and the flowing, accessible style of writing. The author’s Kannada is indeed enjoyable and just the title is enough to enthrall us on that count. Manu Devadevan looks critically at earlier historians and their work and contemplates the process of history-writing. He sees each period of time as marked by a certain intellectual fervor under which people function, which then needs to be probed into by the historian. This, he insists, needs to be done if we are to know how we have come to be what we are. Devadevan distances himself from the several ideological schools of history-writing and sees historical materialism and the study of meaning production as the only method worth using. All chapters provide such theoretical clarifications keeping the reader interested. Extraordinary story-telling skills allow for a smooth transition from chapter to chapter, and sometimes even manage to keep us on the edge.
Devadevan’s expertise in several languages shows, and has been put to good use in this book: he makes some interesting connections with words across several south Indian languages and their etymological origins and draws conclusions about the relationships they indicate. He relates the histories of some communities to the present taking us along a journey of changing words and this makes for a very interesting read (community histories of Solankis, Gaurs and others, Pg 32). But one doesn't know how seriously the presence or absence of words should be made to stand as evidence for an interaction between regions and their languages. Devadevan just says, that there began an interaction between languages which triggered new intellectual systems. While this is an interesting way of seeing India’s past, especially since we tend to think that the linguistic division of states brought about a divisiveness in a unified India, more detail is required for us to believe Devadevan’s thesis. We are not told exactly how or why such interactions led to newer intellectual systems. Or perhaps there is something here to do with the historian’s domain that needs to be clarified, that a person trained in cultural studies, such as I, cannot clearly see.
The Territory Thesis:
Devadevan proposes a thesis about territories aiming to show to us that there was an interaction between the different regions of India. What is achieved by such a thesis is not very clear. He also sees a later development where chieftaincies become states (pg 20) and tells us of their hierarchical nature. The Natyashastra mentions regions therefore there were regions, we are told. Similarly, just the mention of Magadha, Kosala and Avanti (pg 12) in texts makes him propose the existence of states. There is just not enough evidence and much is unconvincing here. Then again he begins by talking of production relations which were lineage-centered or “kin-based” (pg 12) and goes on to talk of their changes, but not enough proof is presented to establish either what existed or how it changed. Devadevan differentiates between identity issues/problems as we talk of them today (which he sees as very recent) from those of the territorial interactions. Although this is a very interesting theoretical and historical differentiation, it suffers from lack of substantiation with regard to the historical territorial interactions and their significance.
The Power Thesis:
Devadevan also gives us a power thesis. He tells us that texts like Ramayana were given importance because of the prevalent divine rights system. Why is it not the other way round? And why is it that for Devadevan, kavya goes for history? Devadevan historically traces the relationship between kavya and power through the book. This is a very redundant reading. It simply assumes that all of history was a quest for power and excludes any notion of the everyday. While a lot of scholars use texts like the Manusmriti and Shatapatha Brahmana to show India’s past as degenerate, Devadevan uses them to draw very mundane conclusions. This is a surprise, but in itself there is no particular virtue in approaching these texts in a value-neutral way. I say this, because the greater problem persists: how do we know that these texts represented the life and society of their times? How can the complex relationship between life and literature be estimated?
It is as if every piece of text is automatically ‘evidence’ for the historian. What I see in Devadevan is a proud belief (and I see this in most historians) that whatever relics or texts are available today are enough to write a history of India; and this, even when we know that thousands of texts have been lost to us forever. Why is it so difficult to admit --“we don’t know and possibly cannot know?” Have we indeed become so dependent on finding a narrative that should explain all of us? Have we become like the west, ignoring the virtues of forgetting that we once practiced, aspects of which Ashis Nandy reminds us in his essay, “History’s Forgotten Doubles”?
If the itihasa-purana tradition is seen as historically true here, then several questions need to be asked. What of the Buddhist sources that Devadevan is referring to, let’s say, the Jataka tales? What happens to the reincarnation story that gets narrated at the beginning and end of each tale? Does reincarnation get the value of historical truth or not? Traveler’s accounts, kavyas, puranas and dharmashatra texts share the same space and receive the same analysis, how? It would have been helpful if Devadevan provided exact references each time he referred to “Bauddhara krUtigaLu” (Buddhist writings, Pg 12).
The Divine Rights System:
Devadevan classifies certain periods of Karnataka’s past as one where the king was seen as divine/god. Descriptions of ‘devate’ and ‘arasu’ are very similar, he says. I am not sure why that cannot be? He uses Manusmriti and Arthashastra to draw conclusions about state formation because, he says, they contain notions of chakravarti (pg 21). Evidence in this context is very shaky, he seems to be saying: kavya texts mention divine rights; therefore there were divine rights (pg 46)! Devadevan provides instances of the King’s security guards burning themselves or committing suicide upon the King’s death, he refers to this as ‘prabhu nishthe’ and possibly takes from Foucault’s work for the further analyses he provides. But it would be far more beneficial if the “divine rights” system was seen as revealing something about our gods, instead of concluding that we had a strong system of sovereignty. The question to ask here is about the epistemological value of the gods. What I instead see Devadevan as doing is this: comparing one object/practice of a culture to a similar one in a different culture and concluding that the object/practice of the latter culture is same as the former’s. This constitutes being anachronistic, but more importantly there is no guarantee that the same object/practice is ‘related to’ in the same way in a different culture. The same mistake is made when he identifies the state-religion/temple/priest nexus in Karnataka’s past. The question we really need to ask is: what kind of state did we have in India’s past, and also, did we even have one? Whereas, all that Devadevan is doing is, writing the history of Karnataka by overwriting it upon the history of the west: and a protestant history of the west at that. Looking back to find what we want is a temptation every historian must resist. Unfortunately, Devadevan only succumbs to it. The State-religion/temple/priest nexus is simply a history of the west. It is a framework through which the west has seen us, judged us and written histories of us. Why would Devadevan produce yet another Orientalist history? Couldn’t the sovereignty-like practices found in India’s past be a product of the traditional value attached to self-effacing, to selfless service? Why or how do we know, that it does not come from the same sentiment that asks to be crushed underneath the chariot of Puri Jagannatha? Why is it not similar to the bhakta’s yearning to be killed by her/his beloved god/dess?
A Partial (Secular) history?:
Devadevan offers an interesting take on the vachanas when he says that they are part of a deeksha tradition and only therefore do not care for caste or gender. The question that remains however is: who gives deeksha and how, and what knowledge is it that one is being initiated into? But this question does not seem to be of interest to the author at all. For all practical purposes, he is writing a secular history of Karnataka. So then, how does deeksha fit in, how do the related miracles and prophecies fit in? These questions remain unanswered and I am not sure if Devadevan even sees them as valid questions. And without considering these questions valid, Devadevan’s proposition about the vachanakaras being a part of the deeksha tradition, although interesting, reads like a surface-level claim with no serious intellectual investment in the tradition or its philosophy.
On pg 54, Devadevan points out, that scholars have unnecessarily exoticised “rta” of the Rigveda and says that it instead simply means “prakrutiya taala” or rhythm of nature. He says rta (as rhythm of nature) which is mentioned many more times than dharma is to be found because of the undeveloped agricultural society of the times. We do not know why we should believe this. It just seems like a bad reading of a tradition that might have indeed taken nature’s order of things into account while denying mankind's perceived agency. Such trivializing readings of the Indian traditions will remind the reader of Wendy Doniger’s work where everything in the Indian traditions, we are told, is about food and eating[1]. Devadevan continues by saying that what scholars see as peethas (archaeologically) are simply “rubbuva kallu” (grinding stones), nothing to do with the linga. Much justification is required if these points are to be taken seriously and it is lacking in the book as of now.
Devadevan tells us that the Vijayanagara Empire was not the golden period in Karnataka’s history; he says it was the worst because it forced people to be constantly on the move. He also tells us that Aurangzeb, along with other Muslim rulers had given gifts and grants to Shiva temples. These are new and valuable findings that other historians specializing in the period should respond to. Devadevan comes up with many such new findings through a thorough study of the archives. He is right in showing the flaws of the subaltern studies group of historians and his critique of Marxist historical analyses is valid. These critiques were long-anticipated and have reached the Kannada reader effectively through Devadevan.
Devadevan clarifies many issues to do with India’s pre-colonial past that many scholars in the social sciences don’t even see as a period worthy of study. He tells us that India wasn't feudal and that taxes started to be levied only after the 13th century; this finding resonates somewhat with Dharampal’s work on pre-colonial India and I find this point fascinating. Devadevan is again right when he says that for no reason at all, an Attimabbe (pg 56) and a Mahadeviyakka come to be seen as feminists. Devadevan, however, urges us to see India’s later confusions about love and lust, as not a result of Victorian morality but as a result of India’s own progression in terms of life and ideas. I think there is, less of probing and more naturalization of historical processes, in such an urging, but that’s a fairly big debate in History now.
Devandevan's intimate knowledge of the many Indian texts he refers to, definitely deserves, credit. The history of Karnataka he writes is often a rich mix of detailed natural-geographical descriptions, literary theoretical discussions, conceptual issues and theoretical insights, and is precious for each of these. ‘What is History?’ and such other basic questions about the discipline of History are things that Devadevan can clarify, which is a prerequisite to being a good scholar and writing a work of significance, which is what this book is.
[1] See her work on the Vedas and the Manusmriti.
Review of Prithaviyallodagida Ghatavu…Karnatakada Ninnegalu by Manu V Devadevan. Published In Journal of Karnataka Studies. Issue May 2007 - April 2008, 4-2, 5-1.
Journal link: http://journalofkarnatakastudies.org/prithviyallodagida-ghatavu-karnatakada-ninnegalu-by-manu-v-devadevan-sushumna-kannan
Devadevan’s expertise in several languages shows, and has been put to good use in this book: he makes some interesting connections with words across several south Indian languages and their etymological origins and draws conclusions about the relationships they indicate. He relates the histories of some communities to the present taking us along a journey of changing words and this makes for a very interesting read (community histories of Solankis, Gaurs and others, Pg 32). But one doesn't know how seriously the presence or absence of words should be made to stand as evidence for an interaction between regions and their languages. Devadevan just says, that there began an interaction between languages which triggered new intellectual systems. While this is an interesting way of seeing India’s past, especially since we tend to think that the linguistic division of states brought about a divisiveness in a unified India, more detail is required for us to believe Devadevan’s thesis. We are not told exactly how or why such interactions led to newer intellectual systems. Or perhaps there is something here to do with the historian’s domain that needs to be clarified, that a person trained in cultural studies, such as I, cannot clearly see.
The Territory Thesis:
Devadevan proposes a thesis about territories aiming to show to us that there was an interaction between the different regions of India. What is achieved by such a thesis is not very clear. He also sees a later development where chieftaincies become states (pg 20) and tells us of their hierarchical nature. The Natyashastra mentions regions therefore there were regions, we are told. Similarly, just the mention of Magadha, Kosala and Avanti (pg 12) in texts makes him propose the existence of states. There is just not enough evidence and much is unconvincing here. Then again he begins by talking of production relations which were lineage-centered or “kin-based” (pg 12) and goes on to talk of their changes, but not enough proof is presented to establish either what existed or how it changed. Devadevan differentiates between identity issues/problems as we talk of them today (which he sees as very recent) from those of the territorial interactions. Although this is a very interesting theoretical and historical differentiation, it suffers from lack of substantiation with regard to the historical territorial interactions and their significance.
The Power Thesis:
Devadevan also gives us a power thesis. He tells us that texts like Ramayana were given importance because of the prevalent divine rights system. Why is it not the other way round? And why is it that for Devadevan, kavya goes for history? Devadevan historically traces the relationship between kavya and power through the book. This is a very redundant reading. It simply assumes that all of history was a quest for power and excludes any notion of the everyday. While a lot of scholars use texts like the Manusmriti and Shatapatha Brahmana to show India’s past as degenerate, Devadevan uses them to draw very mundane conclusions. This is a surprise, but in itself there is no particular virtue in approaching these texts in a value-neutral way. I say this, because the greater problem persists: how do we know that these texts represented the life and society of their times? How can the complex relationship between life and literature be estimated?
It is as if every piece of text is automatically ‘evidence’ for the historian. What I see in Devadevan is a proud belief (and I see this in most historians) that whatever relics or texts are available today are enough to write a history of India; and this, even when we know that thousands of texts have been lost to us forever. Why is it so difficult to admit --“we don’t know and possibly cannot know?” Have we indeed become so dependent on finding a narrative that should explain all of us? Have we become like the west, ignoring the virtues of forgetting that we once practiced, aspects of which Ashis Nandy reminds us in his essay, “History’s Forgotten Doubles”?
If the itihasa-purana tradition is seen as historically true here, then several questions need to be asked. What of the Buddhist sources that Devadevan is referring to, let’s say, the Jataka tales? What happens to the reincarnation story that gets narrated at the beginning and end of each tale? Does reincarnation get the value of historical truth or not? Traveler’s accounts, kavyas, puranas and dharmashatra texts share the same space and receive the same analysis, how? It would have been helpful if Devadevan provided exact references each time he referred to “Bauddhara krUtigaLu” (Buddhist writings, Pg 12).
The Divine Rights System:
Devadevan classifies certain periods of Karnataka’s past as one where the king was seen as divine/god. Descriptions of ‘devate’ and ‘arasu’ are very similar, he says. I am not sure why that cannot be? He uses Manusmriti and Arthashastra to draw conclusions about state formation because, he says, they contain notions of chakravarti (pg 21). Evidence in this context is very shaky, he seems to be saying: kavya texts mention divine rights; therefore there were divine rights (pg 46)! Devadevan provides instances of the King’s security guards burning themselves or committing suicide upon the King’s death, he refers to this as ‘prabhu nishthe’ and possibly takes from Foucault’s work for the further analyses he provides. But it would be far more beneficial if the “divine rights” system was seen as revealing something about our gods, instead of concluding that we had a strong system of sovereignty. The question to ask here is about the epistemological value of the gods. What I instead see Devadevan as doing is this: comparing one object/practice of a culture to a similar one in a different culture and concluding that the object/practice of the latter culture is same as the former’s. This constitutes being anachronistic, but more importantly there is no guarantee that the same object/practice is ‘related to’ in the same way in a different culture. The same mistake is made when he identifies the state-religion/temple/priest nexus in Karnataka’s past. The question we really need to ask is: what kind of state did we have in India’s past, and also, did we even have one? Whereas, all that Devadevan is doing is, writing the history of Karnataka by overwriting it upon the history of the west: and a protestant history of the west at that. Looking back to find what we want is a temptation every historian must resist. Unfortunately, Devadevan only succumbs to it. The State-religion/temple/priest nexus is simply a history of the west. It is a framework through which the west has seen us, judged us and written histories of us. Why would Devadevan produce yet another Orientalist history? Couldn’t the sovereignty-like practices found in India’s past be a product of the traditional value attached to self-effacing, to selfless service? Why or how do we know, that it does not come from the same sentiment that asks to be crushed underneath the chariot of Puri Jagannatha? Why is it not similar to the bhakta’s yearning to be killed by her/his beloved god/dess?
A Partial (Secular) history?:
Devadevan offers an interesting take on the vachanas when he says that they are part of a deeksha tradition and only therefore do not care for caste or gender. The question that remains however is: who gives deeksha and how, and what knowledge is it that one is being initiated into? But this question does not seem to be of interest to the author at all. For all practical purposes, he is writing a secular history of Karnataka. So then, how does deeksha fit in, how do the related miracles and prophecies fit in? These questions remain unanswered and I am not sure if Devadevan even sees them as valid questions. And without considering these questions valid, Devadevan’s proposition about the vachanakaras being a part of the deeksha tradition, although interesting, reads like a surface-level claim with no serious intellectual investment in the tradition or its philosophy.
On pg 54, Devadevan points out, that scholars have unnecessarily exoticised “rta” of the Rigveda and says that it instead simply means “prakrutiya taala” or rhythm of nature. He says rta (as rhythm of nature) which is mentioned many more times than dharma is to be found because of the undeveloped agricultural society of the times. We do not know why we should believe this. It just seems like a bad reading of a tradition that might have indeed taken nature’s order of things into account while denying mankind's perceived agency. Such trivializing readings of the Indian traditions will remind the reader of Wendy Doniger’s work where everything in the Indian traditions, we are told, is about food and eating[1]. Devadevan continues by saying that what scholars see as peethas (archaeologically) are simply “rubbuva kallu” (grinding stones), nothing to do with the linga. Much justification is required if these points are to be taken seriously and it is lacking in the book as of now.
Devadevan tells us that the Vijayanagara Empire was not the golden period in Karnataka’s history; he says it was the worst because it forced people to be constantly on the move. He also tells us that Aurangzeb, along with other Muslim rulers had given gifts and grants to Shiva temples. These are new and valuable findings that other historians specializing in the period should respond to. Devadevan comes up with many such new findings through a thorough study of the archives. He is right in showing the flaws of the subaltern studies group of historians and his critique of Marxist historical analyses is valid. These critiques were long-anticipated and have reached the Kannada reader effectively through Devadevan.
Devadevan clarifies many issues to do with India’s pre-colonial past that many scholars in the social sciences don’t even see as a period worthy of study. He tells us that India wasn't feudal and that taxes started to be levied only after the 13th century; this finding resonates somewhat with Dharampal’s work on pre-colonial India and I find this point fascinating. Devadevan is again right when he says that for no reason at all, an Attimabbe (pg 56) and a Mahadeviyakka come to be seen as feminists. Devadevan, however, urges us to see India’s later confusions about love and lust, as not a result of Victorian morality but as a result of India’s own progression in terms of life and ideas. I think there is, less of probing and more naturalization of historical processes, in such an urging, but that’s a fairly big debate in History now.
Devandevan's intimate knowledge of the many Indian texts he refers to, definitely deserves, credit. The history of Karnataka he writes is often a rich mix of detailed natural-geographical descriptions, literary theoretical discussions, conceptual issues and theoretical insights, and is precious for each of these. ‘What is History?’ and such other basic questions about the discipline of History are things that Devadevan can clarify, which is a prerequisite to being a good scholar and writing a work of significance, which is what this book is.
[1] See her work on the Vedas and the Manusmriti.
Review of Prithaviyallodagida Ghatavu…Karnatakada Ninnegalu by Manu V Devadevan. Published In Journal of Karnataka Studies. Issue May 2007 - April 2008, 4-2, 5-1.
Journal link: http://journalofkarnatakastudies.org/prithviyallodagida-ghatavu-karnatakada-ninnegalu-by-manu-v-devadevan-sushumna-kannan
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