292. identity
Shaunaka begins by laying out all the early grammatical opinions about whether ac-
tions come before names, or names before actions, before he comes to his own sid-
dha,or successful conclusion, on the subject.^4 In fact, this is the standard procedure
in classical Indian philosophy. Generally, the tradition treats with greatest respect
those who make the most forceful case for their various opponents before present-
ing their own argument. There is enlightened self-interest in this move: the more
powerful your interlocutor, the more persuasive your position! But it is bought at the
price of giving up the easier option of knocking down a straw man. Despite the ab-
sence of a modern bibliographic apparatus, we can use these texts to trace views
back to their sources, because they are usually scrupulous in quoting verbatim from
others.
Ancient Indian philosophers, despite their use of polemic against opponents
(purvapaksha),are also patient and detailed in laying out their views. Even the de-
structive dialectic of the Advaitin Sri Harsha, which seeks openly to refute a vari-
ety of positions, nevertheless is faithful in the construction of the opponent ’s argu-
ment. Seldom is it possible to criticize Sri Harsha on the grounds that he
misrepresents his opponent; the best comeback is to find flaws in his arguments or
to develop better theories that escape his objections. We see this in the way his major
opponents, thinkers of the Nyaya school, responded to him by patiently reworking
their ideas to take note of his critique, rather than mindlessly rejecting his probing
questions.^5 Challenge and response are both salutary models for interlogue.
If we are to represent anyone other than our individual selves—and very little re-
search is autobiographical in content (even if so in tone, perspective, and mood)—
then our simple slogan would have to be “Let the other speak.” This is actually an
astonishingly difficult thing to do. Most of us are guilty of not paying attention to
uncomfortable voices, which we exclude by appealing to deeply held if vague no-
tions of standards—of fairness or sympathy or rigor or something else—that the
other is deemed as failing to meet. So, in the process of representing “the other,” we
want to know whether we have patiently taken up all the views on offer, and en-
gaged with them before we proceed to our own ideas. This patience is part of
samkalpa—or intention—which we view as the process of moral inventory that
precedes action.
Third, we query how we are experienced by the other—whether we are doing
enough to be aware of our own location in intellectual and cultural space. Part of
this process is the well-established but often neglected practice of examining
hermeneutic prejudice. Another, more elusive part is attempting to understand how
each of us is seen by the other. This might seem a thankless task when we are con-