阿毘達磨俱舍論

Part 30

(Vātsīputrīyas) If the term “pudgala” merely designates the five aggregates of clinging (upādānaskandhas), how could the Blessed One have said: “Bhikṣus, I shall explain to you the burden, the taking up of the burden, the laying down of the burden, and the bearer of the burden”? (Sūtrālaṃkāra, xviii. 102)

(Author of the Treatise) Why could he not explain them in these terms?

(Vātsīputrīyas) Because if “pudgala” is merely a designation given to the aggregates, it cannot be the “person” who bears the burden, that is, the aggregates. The burden cannot be its bearer. Why? Simply because such a thing has never been heard of.

(Author of the Treatise) If so, you should not say that the “pudgala” is ineffable. No one has ever acknowledged the existence of an “ineffable” entity. Moreover, you would have to take account of another statement in the sutra, which says that craving itself is the taking up of the burden.

Since craving is an “aggregate,” it is therefore also a “burden,” and that a burden should take itself up is likewise something never heard of. The “taking up of the burden” (= the one who takes up the burden) is included within the aggregates, and so too is the bearer of the burden. It is these very aggregates that the Blessed One called the “pudgala,” the bearer of the burden, as we have seen from the explanation he gave later in the same sutra.

After saying that the burden is the five aggregates of clinging, that taking up the burden is craving, and that laying down the burden is the abandonment of craving, he said that the bearer of the burden is the “pudgala.” And lest the “pudgala” be mistakenly understood as an ineffable and truly existent entity, he further explained: “[Merely in conformity with worldly convention, it is said:] this venerable one has such-and-such a name and belongs to such-and-such a lineage (gotra),” and so forth, “[just as in the sutra concerning a person],” so that people might understand that the “pudgala” is something expressible, impermanent, and devoid of intrinsic nature.

The five aggregates of clinging are by nature suffering; therefore, they are called the “burden.” Each preceding moment of the continuum draws along each succeeding moment; therefore, this continuum is called the “bearer of the burden.” Thus, the “pudgala” does not truly exist.

(Vātsīputrīyas) The “pudgala” nevertheless truly exists, because the sutra says: “To deny beings who are spontaneously born is wrong view.”

(Author of the Treatise) Who denies spontaneously born beings? We still acknowledge the existence of such beings in accordance with the Buddha’s teaching. For us, a “spontaneously born being” designates a continuum of aggregates [that is, the continuum of the five aggregates of a being in the intermediate state] that can enter another world without its course being interrupted by rebirth from a womb, an egg, or moisture. To deny the existence of spontaneously born beings as thus defined is wrong view, because this kind of continuum of aggregates truly exists.

If you maintain that denying the “pudgala” is wrong view, then according to you, how is this wrong view to be abandoned? It cannot be abandoned either by the path of seeing or by the path of cultivation, because the “pudgala” is not included among real dharmas; moreover, wrong view cannot be abandoned by the path of cultivation but must be abandoned by the path of seeing.

(Vātsīputrīyas) But the sutra (Ekottara, 3, 16; 5, 12) says: “There is a ‘pudgala’ who arises (utpadyate) in the world….” Thus, “pudgala” does not designate the aggregates but is a real entity.

(Author of the Treatise) That is not the precise meaning of the passage. With regard to an assemblage of aggregates, the sutra provisionally establishes a unity, just as the world commonly speaks of a thorn seed, a grain of rice, a heap, or a word. Furthermore, the sutra says that the “pudgala” has the property of arising (utpattimattva); therefore, it too would be a conditioned dharma.

(Vātsīputrīyas) In the case of the “pudgala,” the word “arises” does not have the same meaning as when we say that the aggregates arise. With respect to the aggregates, “arising” means coming into existence after not having existed; but with respect to the “pudgala,” “arising” means that at that moment it appropriates different aggregates, such as a human mind (manas) instead of an animal mind. Similarly, in the world, when someone acquires a particular branch of learning, it is said that a sacrificial priest, or a grammarian, has arisen; when a lay practitioner acquires certain qualities, it is said that a bhikṣu, or a practitioner belonging to such-and-such a school, has arisen.

In speaking thus, people do not mean that a sacrificial priest or a practitioner has actually been born. People also speak of “one born into a household” and “one in whom illness has arisen,” merely because such persons are in a particular condition.

(Author of the Treatise) This explanation of the sutra passage, “There is a ‘pudgala’ who arises in the world,” was censured by the Blessed One himself. In the Paramārthaśūnyatāsūtra, the Blessed One says: “There is karma; there is karmic maturation. Yet apart from the dependently arisen manifestation of dharmas [and it is precisely this dependent arising that gives us the impression of an enduring agent], one nowhere finds the existence of an agent capable of relinquishing these aggregates and appropriating other aggregates.” And in the Phālgunasūtra, the Buddha further says: “I do not say that there is one who appropriates.” Therefore, there can be no “pudgala” that relinquishes (nikṣeptar) and appropriates (upādātar) the aggregates.

Nevertheless, let us examine the analogies you have presented: “A person becomes one who performs sacrificial rites.” In the above analogy, what is the essential nature of the person who becomes one who performs sacrificial rites? Will you say that it is precisely a “self” that has become one who performs sacrificial rites? But if you say this, you must prove the existence of this “self.” Will you say that it is precisely the continuum of mind and mental factors?

But if you say this, mind and mental factors arise in each moment after not having existed before (pratikṣaṇam apūrvotpattiḥ), and they are incapable of relinquishing or acquiring anything. Will you say that it is precisely the body? But if you say this, you still encounter the same difficulty (tasyāti tathā).

We may also consider the discipline of knowledge (vidyā), the attainment of which causes a person to declare that he has become one who performs sacrificial rites, yet it is entirely different from that person himself. Thus, for this comparison to appear reasonable, the skandhas acquired by a “pudgala” would have to be different from that “pudgala”; but this contradicts your definition of “pudgala.” As for the analogies of an old person and a sick person, there would be a succession of different bodies; and the doctrine that an old person is a transformation of a young person is precisely the Sāṃkhya doctrine of transformation (pariṇāma), a doctrine already refuted above.

Therefore, all your analogies are invalid. If you say that the skandhas arise but the “pudgala” does not arise, and that the “pudgala” is therefore different from the skandhas and remains permanent, then you are still maintaining that there are five skandhas and one “pudgala”; and thus you still acknowledge that the “pudgala” is different from the skandhas.

(Vātsīputrīyas) Your own doctrine is exactly the same, for you say that there are as many as four great elements—earth, water, and so forth—but only one derived form (upādāyarūpa); yet derived form is not different from the great elements, is it?

(Commentator) The above objection does not apply to us, but only to those masters who hold that derived form is precisely the four great elements (bhutamatrikapakṣa). Nevertheless, even if we were to accept the view that you mistakenly attribute to us, we would say that just as derived form is the four great elements, so too the five skandhas are precisely the “pudgala.”

(Vātsīputrīyas) If “pudgala” is merely a term used to designate the five skandhas, why did the Blessed One not declare that the life-principle (jīva) is precisely the body?

(Commentator) Because the Blessed One knew the intention (āśaya, a-thế-da) of the questioner. According to them, what is called the “life-principle” is not merely a provisional designation for the skandhas, but a person, a living and truly existent entity; and it was precisely because they thought in this way that they asked whether this “life-principle” was identical with or different from the body. This so-called “life-principle” is absolutely nonexistent, and there is no need to speak of its identity or difference; therefore, the Blessed One rejected both answers. It is just as one cannot say whether a turtle’s hair is hard or soft.

The earlier masters explained this matter as follows. There was a venerable elder (bhadanta) named Nāgasena who had attained the three kinds of knowledge (vidyās), the six superknowledges (abhijñās), and the eight liberations (vimokṣas). At that time, King Milinda approached him and said: “I have come intending to express the matters about which I still have doubts, but ascetics are exceedingly fond of speaking at length.

We trust that the venerable elder will answer the questions I put to him straightforwardly.” The venerable elder accepted this request, and the king asked: “Are the life-principle and the body the same or different?” The venerable elder replied: “A question such as this need not be answered.” The king then asked: “Did we not agree that you would answer my question straightforwardly? Why do you now evade it and refuse to answer?” The venerable elder replied: “I too wish to ask the king about a matter concerning which I still have doubts; but kings are exceedingly fond of speaking at length.

We trust that the king will answer the question I put to him straightforwardly.” The king agreed, and the venerable elder asked: “Do the mango trees in the royal palace bear sweet or bitter fruit?” The king replied: “There are no mango trees at all in the royal palace.” The venerable elder expressed displeasure just as the king had done before: “Did we not previously make an agreement with each other? Why do you now evade the question and refuse to answer?” The king replied: “But since there are no mango trees at all in the royal palace, how could there be sweet or bitter mangoes?” The venerable elder said: “O King, the life-principle likewise has no true existence; therefore, one cannot answer your question by saying that it is identical with or different from the body.”

We have now seen why the Blessed One did not resolve the question of whether the life-principle and the body are identical or not identical.

(Vātsīputrīyas) But if an “inexpressible” (avaktavya) “pudgala” has no true existence, why did the Blessed One not answer that the life-principle has absolutely no true existence?

(Commentator) This too was because he considered the intention of the questioner. The questioner may have asked, on the basis of the life-principle together with this mind, whether the life-principle was the continuum of the skandhas. If the Blessed One had answered that the life-principle had absolutely no true existence, the questioner would have fallen into wrong view (mithyādṛṣṭi). Moreover, because the questioner was incapable of understanding dependent origination (pratītyasamutpāda), he could not be a “suitable vessel for receiving the true Dharma.” Therefore, the Blessed One did not tell him that the life-principle exists only as a provisional designation.

The explanation we have given here accords with what the Blessed One said: “Ānanda, a non-Buddhist renunciant named Vatsagotra came and asked me this question: ‘Does a self (ātman) exist or not?’ And I did not answer him. For if I had answered that a self exists, this would have contradicted the true nature of dharmas, because no dharma is a self or pertains to a self. If I had answered that no self exists, this would only have increased Vatsagotra’s confusion, because he would have thought: ‘Formerly I had a self, but now this self no longer truly exists.’ Compared with the delusion of believing in the existence of a self (the delusion of attachment to existence), this confusion is more severe.

Whoever clings to a self falls into the extreme view of eternalism (śāśvatānta); and whoever clings to the nonexistence of a self falls into the extreme view of annihilationism (ucchedānta). These two faults differ in gravity”: and so forth.

On this basis, the Commentator says:

(1) Considering the wound caused by wrong views and the loss of wholesome karma, the Buddhas taught the true Dharma in the manner of a tigress carrying her cub.

(2) Whoever believes in the true existence of a self will be torn by the teeth of wrong views; whoever fails to recognize the conventional “self” will destroy wholesome karma—this feeble person.

It further says:

1. Because the life-principle has no true existence, the Buddha did not say that it was identical with or different from the body; nor did he say that the life-principle did not exist, for fear of denying the life-principle that exists by provisional designation.

2. What is called the life principle is precisely the continuum of the skandhas, karma, and the fruit of karma: If the Buddha were to say that there is no life principle, people would deny karma and its fruit.

3. If the Buddha did not say that what is called the “life principle” within the skandhas is precisely this, it was because he knew that the questioner was incapable of understanding the teaching on emptiness.

4. Thus, it was precisely because of Vatsa’s state of mind that the Buddha did not answer when asked whether or not there is a self. However, if the self truly exists, why did he not answer that it exists?

The Buddha did not answer the four questions concerning the permanence of the world (loka) precisely because he had discerned the questioner’s intention. If the questioner thought that the self (ātman) was the world, all four answers would be incorrect, because the self does not exist at all. If he thought that saṃsāra was the world, all four answers would likewise be incorrect: If saṃsāra were permanent, no one would attain nirvana; if saṃsāra were impermanent, everyone would attain nirvana through its natural cessation, without needing to exert any effort; if saṃsāra were both permanent and impermanent, some would fail to attain nirvana while others would attain it naturally.

Finally, to say that the world (loka), in the sense of saṃsāra, is neither permanent nor impermanent would be to say that all beings both fail to attain nirvana and attain nirvana; these meanings would thus contradict each other. In reality, nirvana can be attained through the noble path; therefore, none of these four answers can be accepted. This is like the case of the Nirgrantha disciple (Nirgrantha-śrāvaka) who asked the Buddha whether the bird he was holding in his hand was alive or dead, and the Buddha did not answer.

The four questions concerning whether the world is infinite (anantavān)—that is, whether the world has limits or has no limits—have meanings similar to those concerning the permanence of the world; they therefore entail the same errors described above.

(Question) How can it be known that the “infinity of the world” is also included in the meaning explained above?

(Answer) After the non-Buddhist teacher (tīrthika) Uktika had asked the Buddha about the “infinity” of the world, he cunningly reformulated his question and asked: “Does the entire world attain liberation through the noble path, or only a part of the world?” At that time Ānanda said to him: “You have already asked this question. Why do you merely change the words and ask it again?”

If the Blessed One himself did not explain the four questions concerning the existence of the Tathagata after death, this too was because he had considered the questioner’s state of mind. The questioner understood the Tathagata as resembling a “self” that had been liberated from the afflictions.

Let us ask in turn those who maintain that there is a self: “According to you, with regard to a living ‘pudgala,’ the Blessed One declares that this ‘pudgala’ truly exists and is inexpressible; but why does he not declare that the Tathagata exists after death?”

If the Vātsīputrīyas reply that the Blessed One remained silent on this matter because he feared that his disciples would admit the everlasting existence of a “pudgala” called the Tathagata and thereby fall into either eternalism or annihilationism, we shall ask why the Blessed One made other declarations. He foretold to Maitreya: “In the future you will become a Tathagata, Arhat, Samyaksaṃbuddha,” and, speaking of one of his deceased disciples, he said: “Such a person has now been reborn in such-and-such a place.” Are these statements not tainted by the view of eternalism?

If the Vātsīputrīyas reply that the Blessed One made no declaration about the Tathagata after death because he had previously seen the “pudgala” but no longer saw that “person” after he had entered nirvana, and that, not knowing, the Tathagata therefore made no declaration concerning the Tathagata after death, then by this statement the Vātsīputrīyas deny the omniscience of the Teacher. One must believe that the reason the Blessed One did not answer was precisely that the “self” to which the questioner implicitly referred when speaking of the Tathagata does not truly exist at all.

If the Vātsīputrīyas say that the Blessed One sees the “pudgala” entering nirvana, although he makes no declaration of his own concerning it, and that the “pudgala” continues to exist although it is not an object of the Blessed One’s declaration, then we may conclude that the Vātsīputrīyas admit that the “pudgala” is permanent.

If the Vātsīputrīyas say that the question of “whether the Blessed One sees or does not see the ‘pudgala’” is also “inexpressible,” then little by little they are implying that everything is “inexpressible,” and that one cannot say whether the Blessed One is omniscient or not omniscient.

(Vātsīputrīyas) The “pudgala” truly exists, because a sutra says: “To say that the ‘self’ (ātman) does not exist and is unreal is an evil view (dṛṣṭisthāna).”

(Author of the Treatise) This is not evidence, because the sutra also says that affirming the existence of the self is itself an evil view. The Abhidharma masters hold that belief in the existence of the self and belief in the nonexistence of the self are both extreme views (antadṛṣṭi), because they accord with the two forms of grasping at extremes (antagrāhadṛṣṭi). This position is entirely correct, because it is clearly stated in the Vatsagotra Sutra: “Ānanda, one who holds that there is a self falls into the view of eternalism (śaśvatadṛṣṭi), while one who holds that there is no self falls into the view of annihilationism (ucchedadṛṣṭi).”

(Vātsīputrīyas) If the “pudgala” does not exist, who transmigrates through saṃsāra? Indeed, one cannot admit that saṃsāra itself transmigrates. Moreover, the Blessed One said: “Beings, deluded by ignorance and bound by craving, revolve from place to place: they fall into hell, become animals, become ghosts, humans, or devas; they must endure such suffering for a long time” (Saṃyukta, 6, 15).

(Author of the Treatise) How does the “pudgala” transmigrate through saṃsāra? You say that this transmigration consists in relinquishing the old skandhas and taking hold of new skandhas; however, we have shown that this explanation cannot be accepted. The correct explanation of this matter is as follows: “When speaking of a fire burning through a dense forest, people commonly say that the fire has ‘moved onward,’ although there are only momentary instances of its movement, because these very moments constitute a continuum. It is the same with the term ‘being’: The convergence of skandhas undergoing continuous transformation is provisionally designated a ‘being’; because this continuum of skandhas is sustained by craving, it transmigrates through saṃsāra.”

(Vātsīputrīya) If only the skandhas exist, how is this statement of the Blessed One to be explained: “In a past life, I was the teacher Sunetra”? Indeed, if it is maintained that the mere existence of the skandhas is provisionally designated as “self,” then the past skandhas cannot be the present skandhas, and the Blessed One could not have made the statement above.

(Author of the Treatise) But to what does the word “I” in the Blessed One’s statement refer? Will you say that it is the “pudgala”? If so, the past “self” must be identical with the present “self,” and the “self” would then be permanent. According to us, when the Blessed One said, “I was the teacher Sunetra,” he intended us to understand that the skandhas constituting his present “I” formed part of the same continuum as the skandhas that constituted Sunetra. It is just as when one says, “This flame has burned its way here.”

You maintain that the self truly exists; and let us grant that only the Tathagata Buddhas can perceive this “self” [because it is exceedingly subtle]. But if the Buddhas perceive the “self,” they should have a firm belief in the “self” (ātmagrāha, grasping at self); from this belief in the “self” would arise belief in “what belongs to the self”; and from these two beliefs would arise in them attachment to “self” and “what belongs to the self.” For the Blessed One has said: “Whoever believes in a self also believes in what belongs to the self; having believed in what belongs to the self, that person becomes attached to the skandhas as though they were the self and what belongs to the self.” Thus, the Buddhas should possess the view of a real personality (satkāyadṛṣṭi);

they should be bound by attachment to self and attachment to what belongs to the self; and they would be far removed from liberation.

(Vātsīputrīya) Attachment to self does not arise from the self. When one apprehends a self in what is not the self—as in the case of non-Buddhist teachers—one develops attachment to this unreal self; but when one perceives the self in what truly is the self, namely, in an “indescribable” “pudgala”—as in the case of the Buddhas—there is no attachment whatsoever to this self.

(Author of the Treatise) The explanation above is groundless. The Vātsīputrīyas have gratuitously introduced a heterodox affliction into the teaching of the Teacher. Thus, while some acknowledge an “indescribable” “pudgala,” others deny the existence of all dharmas, and non-Buddhist teachers acknowledge a self separate from the skandhas. All these doctrines are incorrect and share the same defect: they cannot lead to liberation.

(Question) If the self has no real existence whatsoever, how can the mind—which perishes as soon as it arises—remember (smaraṇa) an object perceived (anubhūta) a long time before? How can the mind recognize (pratyabhijñāna) an object resembling one previously perceived?

(Answer) Within a continuum, this remembering and recognizing arises immediately from a certain kind of mind when that mind proceeds from a perception of the previously perceived object, which is called the “object of recollection” (smṛtiviṣayasaṃjñānvayacittaviśeṣāt).

First, let us consider recollection.

(Question) What kind of mind is the mind from which recollection arises?

(Answer) It is a certain mind (cittaviśeṣa) inclined (-ābhoga) toward the object of recollection, a mind in which there appear (-mān) perceptions (saṃjñā) connected with (saṃbandhin) that object or resembling (sadṛśa) that object, or certain kinds of attention, and so forth (ādi); provided, however, that the power (prabhāva) possessed by this mind to produce recollection has not been impaired (upahata) by a psychophysical alteration resulting from illness (āśrayaviśeṣa), grief (śoka), distraction of mind (cittavyākṣepa), the disturbing influence of spells, and so forth (ādi) (tadābhogasadṛśasaṃbandhisaṃjñādimāṃś cittaviśeṣaḥ āśrayaviśeṣaśokavyākṣepādyanupahataprabhāvaḥ).

1. There must arise an inclination of the mind, an act of attention, directed toward the object (yaditatrābhogaḥ kriyate); 2. the mind must contain a perception (saṃjñā) resembling the object, in the case of recollection based on resemblance, [for example, I can remember a flame previously seen because a perception of flame has been placed in my mind through seeing a present flame]; 3. or the mind must contain a perception connected with the object, in the case of recollection without resemblance, [for example, I can remember fire because a perception of smoke has been placed in my mind through seeing smoke];

4. or the mind must contain an aspiration (praṇidhāna), a habit (abhyāsa), [for example, the resolution “I shall remember this at such-and-such a time” has been placed within the continuum of the mind]; 5. likewise, even when the mind is of this nature—that is, when characteristic number one and one of the characteristics numbered two through four are present—if the mind does not proceed from a perception of the object of recollection (atadanvaya = asmṛtiviṣayasaṃjñānvaya)—that is, if the mind in question does not arise in the continuum into which a perception of a certain object has been implanted by cognition, and if this mind does not flow from that very perception—then the mind cannot produce (bhāvayitum = upādayitum) recollection;

6. when the mind is not of this nature, even if it does proceed from a perception of an object of recollection, it still cannot produce recollection.

(Vātsīputrīya) How can one mind see and another mind remember? How can Yajñadatta remember an object seen by Devadatta?

(Author of the Treatise) Because there is no connection (saṃbandha) between Devadatta and Yajñadatta: their minds do not stand in a relationship of cause and effect (kāryakāraṇabhāva), as do the minds constituting a single continuum. Of course, we do not say that one mind sees an object and another mind remembers that object merely because both minds belong to one continuum. We mean only that a past mind, by taking a certain object as its condition, brought about the existence of another mind—the present mind—capable of remembering that object.

In other words, the recollecting mind (smaraṇacitta) arises from the experiencing mind (anubhavacitta, darśanacitta), just as a fruit arises from a seed, through the force of the final stage in the transformation of the continuum. This matter has now been explained; next we shall discuss “recognition” (pratyabhijñāna), which arises from recollection (smaraṇa).

(Vātsīputrīya) If there is no self, who remembers?

(Author of the Treatise) According to you, what does “remembering” mean?

(Vātsīputrīya) It is the apprehension of an object by means of recollection.

(Author of the Treatise) Is this apprehension different from recollection?

(Vātsīputrīya) Recollection is the agent of the act of apprehension.

(Treatise Author) We have explained the agent of this action, and we have explained that which is capable of apprehending: it is precisely the cause of recollection, namely, a mind belonging to a certain category.

(Vātsīputrīyas) But if only a certain category of mind serves as the cause of recollection, how can you say that Caitra is capable of remembering?

(Treatise Author) Caitra is the name given to a continuum in which a recollecting mind has arisen from a mind that previously perceived; and it is precisely for this reason that Caitra is said to be capable of remembering.

(Vātsīputrīyas) If there is no self, to whom does this recollection belong?

(Treatise Author) What is the meaning of the genitive expression “to whom”?

(Vātsīputrīyas) The genitive is used to indicate an owner.

(Treatise Author) Explain by an analogy what you mean by the owner of recollection.

(Vātsīputrīyas) Just as Caitra is the owner of an ox.

(Treatise Author) In what way is Caitra the owner of the ox?

(Vātsīputrīyas) Caitra controls the ox and uses it at will to pull a cart, and so forth.

(Treatise Author) If so, for what purpose is the recollection for which you have labored to find an owner controlled and employed?

(Vātsīputrīyas) Recollection is controlled and employed with regard to the object one wishes to remember, [meaning that it is employed in the act of remembering].

(Treatise Author) For what purpose?

(Vātsīputrīyas) So that recollection may arise.

(Treatise Author) This is truly the statement of an idler! I control and employ something solely for the sake of that very thing itself! Nevertheless, explain to me how recollection is employed. Do you mean that it is sent somewhere? Or do you mean that it is caused to arise?

(Vātsīputrīyas) Recollection does not move and therefore is not sent anywhere. It is merely caused to arise.

(Treatise Author) Thus, what you call the “owner” is merely the cause, and what you call the “possession” is merely the effect. Indeed, because through its efficacy the cause can bring about the arising of the effect, the cause is called the “owner”; and the effect, regarded at the moment of its arising as dependent upon the cause, is called the “possession.” Since there is already a cause fully capable of exercising such ownership, why do you further impose a “self” upon recollection?

Recollection already belongs to that which serves as its cause. Aggregates of conditioned formations (saṃkāras), or the five skandhas, are called Caitra and ox because they form homogeneous continua. The Caitra-continuum is said to possess the ox-continuum because the Caitra-continuum is the cause of the ox-continuum’s change of location and its various other transformations.

There is no truly existent and unitary entity called “Caitra,” nor is there a distinct entity called an “ox.” Within the Caitra-continuum, there is no quality of “possession” or “ownership” apart from the quality of being a cause.

The case of cognition is the same as that of recollection.

We would also answer, mutatis mutandis, the questions: “What is it that cognizes (vijñānāti)? To whom does this cognition belong (kasya vijñānam)?” and other similar questions, such as: “What is it that feels? What is it that forms perceptions?” just as we answered the questions: “What is it that remembers? To whom do recollection and cognition belong?”

Certain treatise masters say that the self (ātman) truly exists because an activity (bhāva; function) depends upon an agent (bhavitar; one capable of knowing), just as Devadatta’s walking must depend upon Devadatta. Walking is the activity, and Devadatta is the acting subject. Cognition (vijñāna), and everything else that constitutes an activity, is likewise dependent upon a “support” (āśraya) and upon “one capable of cognizing” (vijñātar), namely, an agent.

One should ask these treatise masters what they mean when they speak of Devadatta. If they regard Devadatta as a truly existent individual, a real self, we have already explained and refuted this argument. Devadatta remains merely a conventionally designated person and not a truly existent individual; Devadatta is merely a name given to a continuum of conditioned formations (saṃkāras).

Thus, in the same sense in which such a Devadatta is said to walk, Devadatta may also be said to cognize. How does Devadatta walk? “Devadatta” is merely a homogeneous continuum of conditioned formations, of moments of existence that continuously replace one another and, as the continuum develops, resemble one another.

The ignorant perceive within or beneath this continuum an entity capable of causing the continuum to arise in another place—that is, a kind of cause through whose activity the successive moments of Devadatta’s body can arise in different places. In reality, Devadatta’s movement is merely the arising of the continuum—that is, the body—in different places; and the cause of this occurrence, namely, the preceding moment of the continuum, is designated the “mover.”

It is precisely in this sense that we say Devadatta walks, in order to show that this movement is entirely like the “movement” of a flame or of sound. A flame moves; sound moves: this means that the flame-continuum and the sound-continuum move by arising successively from one place to another. Likewise, when the world says that Devadatta cognizes (vijñānāyi), it speaks in the same manner, because this very aggregate of conditioned formations and skandhas—that is, Devadatta—is the cause of cognition (vijñāna; consciousness). To conform to this accepted usage, even the noble ones have had to employ this imprecise manner of speaking.

(Question) Nevertheless, the sutra says that consciousness itself cognizes its object. What, then, does consciousness do with regard to the object?

(Reply) It does nothing at all; the matter is entirely simple: consciousness arises in the likeness of the object. The same applies to a result: Although the result does nothing at all, it is said that the result corresponds to the seed and reproduces the seed, because the result arises in the likeness of the seed. So too with consciousness: Although consciousness performs no activity whatsoever upon the object, it is said to cognize the object because it arises in the likeness of the object.

The likeness of consciousness consists in its having the aspect of the object. Because of this likeness, consciousness is said to cognize the object, and the object is only one of its causes: The faculty is also a cause of consciousness, but consciousness is not said to cognize the faculty because it does not apprehend the aspect of the faculty. The expression “consciousness cognizes” is also established from another standpoint.

Successive moments of consciousness arise in relation to an object: The preceding moment is the cause of the following moment; therefore, consciousness itself is the cause of consciousness, and it is called an agent because it is a cause. Thus, an action has been attributed to consciousness: namely, cognition; just as the action of “ringing” is attributed to a bell, or the action of “moving” to a lamp. It is said that a lamp moves; where, then, does the movement of the lamp lie?—“Lamp” is a conventionally established designation for the uninterrupted continuum of successive moments of flame, which has mistakenly been apprehended as an “entity.” When one of these successive moments arises in a place different from that of the preceding moment, the lamp is said to move.

Yet there is no separate “movement” distinct from the moments of flame. In the same way, the designation “consciousness” (vijñāna) has been conventionally established for a continuum of mind: When a moment of mind arises in relation to a new object, consciousness is said to cognize that object. To say “consciousness cognizes” is like saying “visible form exists (bhavati), arises, and abides (tiṣṭhati),” although there is no “thing that exists” (bhavitṛ), thing that arises, or “thing that abides” distinct from what is called its existence, and so forth.

(Sāṃkhya) If the subsequent mind (vijñāna) arises from the preceding mind rather than from the self (ātman), why is the subsequent mind not always similar to the preceding mind? Why do minds not succeed one another in a fixed order, as when there is a sprout, then a stem, then leaves, and so forth?

(Author of the Treatise) We shall answer the first question: It is because everything that arises from causes (saṃskṛta) possesses the characteristic of “change” (sthityanyathātva, alteration in continuance); this is the intrinsic nature of conditioned dharmas (saṃskṛta): In a continuum composed of conditioned dharmas, the later dharma must differ from the earlier dharma. Were this not so, a practitioner who had entered meditative concentration—whose body and mind continually arose alike, with the successive moments of the continuum all identical—would be unable to emerge naturally from concentration.

As for the second issue: The arising of minds nevertheless follows a certain order. If a mind of a certain kind must arise after a mind of a certain kind, it arises immediately after that mind. Moreover, some minds display a certain degree of similarity to one another, and this similarity enables them to arise mutually owing to the distinctive nature of their lineage (gotra).

For example, directly following a mind concerning a “woman,” there will arise [in a practitioner] a mind of revulsion toward the body of that woman, while [in another person] there will arise a mind concerning that woman’s husband or child. Later, following the distinctive transformation of the continuum of these minds, a mind concerning the woman will arise. This second “mind concerning the woman” will be capable of producing either a mind of revulsion toward the woman or a mind concerning her husband and child, according to which kinds of mind are of the same lineage as this “second mind,” that is, of the same kind rather than of a different kind (gotra).

Innumerable other minds may also follow the “mind concerning the woman,” and this is due to many different causes. Among these minds, those that have previously arisen are the most “abundant”—that is, they have formed the continuum in the past—the most “active,” and the most “proximate,” because they leave a stronger impression upon the continuum; except when other minds arise at that time owing to a particular condition of the body or to an external object.

You may ask why the kind of mind that leaves the strongest impression upon the mental continuum does not continuously produce its result. As we have said, this is because “change” (sthityanyathātva) is a characteristic of a mental continuum; this characteristic specifically pertains to the production, as results, of minds of medium or weak force.

Through the still-incomplete summary given here, we have presented the causes and conditions governing the order in which the various groups of minds arise in mutual succession. A complete understanding of causes and conditions belongs only to the Buddha. As a verse says: “The causes that give rise to every kind of a single feather of a peacock—no one can know these causes except the Omniscient One: Such is the power of knowledge of the Omniscient One [who can know all things completely].” The causes of the many different kinds of material dharmas are very difficult to know; still more difficult to know are the various causes and conditions of things that are not material, namely mind and mental factors.

A certain non-Buddhist teacher (ekīyaḥ tīrthikaḥ) says that minds arise from the self (ātman). One can easily refute the objections that have been raised against us to no purpose: Why is the subsequent mind not like the preceding mind? Why do minds not arise in a fixed order?

This teacher explains the diversity, or differentiation, of minds and their failure to arise in a fixed order as being due to the diverse character of what is called “the conjunction (saṃyoga) of the self and the manas, or mental faculty.” This explanation is invalid because such a “conjunction” cannot be established.

Moreover, according to reason, two things that are conjoined must necessarily be spatially delimited (saṃyoginoś), meaning that they must be situated in distinct places. Let us add that your definition of conjunction as “an acquisition preceded by non-acquisition (aprāptipūrvikā prāptiḥ, a later acquisition preceded by non-attainment)” leads to the same conclusion as our argument, namely that the self is also spatially delimited and situated (ātmanaḥ paricchedaprasaṅgaḥ). [Thus, the self would no longer be “omnipresent,” and this would contradict your doctrine].

Your definition of conjunction further shows that when the mind moves—that is, when it turns toward a certain part of the body—the self must also move to make room for the mind [in which case the self would no longer be “inactive” (niṣkriya)], or it must perish [in which case the self would no longer be eternal (nitya)]. Nor can you maintain that only one part of the self is conjoined with the mind, because, according to you, the self is an indivisible entity.

Even if there were a real conjunction between an “eternal self” and an “immutable mind,” how could the diversity of such conjunction [which is necessary for the diversity of mental states] be explained? Will you say that this diversity arises from the diversity of cognition (buddhi) [which is a quality (guṇa) of the self]? But cognition encounters the same difficulties as the mind: If the self is without differentiation, how can cognition be differentiated?

Will you say that the differentiation of cognition arises from differences in the conjunction between the self and the mind, and that these differences in turn arise from the formative forces? If so, the self becomes useless: Why not say that the diversity of mental states arises from the mental states themselves, differentiated by the formative forces? The self plays no part in the origination of mental states; and to say that mental states arise from the self is like the case of a quack physician who, although medicines are sufficient to cure the patient, still delights in uttering magical formulas: Phù!

Svāha! (phổ-sa-ha).

You will certainly say that mental states, like the formative forces, exist by virtue of the self; but this is merely an unfounded assertion. If you nevertheless insist that the self is the support (āśraya) of mental states and formative forces, then please explain by analogy the nature of the relationship between “that which serves as a support” and “that which is supported.” Mental states [affected by the formative forces], together with those formative forces, are neither a painting nor a fruit, such that the self could support them as a wall supports a painting or a tree supports its fruit.

For then, on the one hand, you would have to admit physical contact [between the self and mental states and formative forces]; and, on the other hand, both a painting and a fruit exist separately from the wall and the tree.

If you say that this is not what you mean by the self’s function of “serving as a support” for mental states and formative forces, but that the self supports them just as earth supports odor, color, taste, and tangible qualities, then we are delighted by this comparison, for it proves the nonexistence of the self. Just as no independent existence of earth (na upalabhyate), separate from odor, color, and so forth, is ever admitted—that which is provisionally designated as “earth” being merely an aggregation of odor, color, and so forth—so it is with the self: There is no separate self existing beneath mental states and formative forces; that which is provisionally designated as the “self” is merely those mental states and formative forces.

Apart from odor, color, and so forth, who could still perceive earth?

(Question) But if there is no entity called “earth” distinct from odor and so forth, how can particular odors and so forth be identified as belonging specifically to earth, as when one speaks of “the odor and taste of earth”?

(Answer) This is said only for the sake of distinction; in other words, it is intended to indicate that certain odors, colors, and so forth are precisely what is designated by the name “earth,” and not the other odors, colors, and so forth that are designated by the name “water.” It is just as when something is called “the body of a wooden image” (mộc tượng thân), which means that this object is made of wood and not of fired clay.

(Question) If the self produces mental states by virtue of differences among the formative forces, why does it not produce all mental states simultaneously?

(Vaiśeṣika) Because the strongest formative force prevents the weakest formative force from producing its result. And if this strongest formative force does not continually produce its result, it is for the same reason that you yourselves give when explaining the impregnations (vāsanās; tu lực) left by the mind in the continuum: We hold that the formative forces are impermanent and subject to transformation.

(Author of the Treatise) If so, what purpose does the self serve? Different mental states will arise through the differing powers of the formative forces, for there is no difference in essential nature between your formative forces and our impregnations.

(Vaiśeṣika) The self cannot be dispensed with. Mindfulness (smṛti), the formative forces (saṃkāras), and so forth are entities (padārtha, cú nghĩa) called “qualities” (guṇa, đức); these qualities must necessarily have a support (āśraya), namely an entity called a “substance” (dravya, thực); and the self is one of these nine substances [earth, and so forth]. For it cannot be accepted that mindfulness and the other qualities of mind depend upon a substance other than the self (such as earth and so forth); only the self possesses cognition.

(Author of the Treatise) But this doctrine of substance and qualities has not been established. You say that mindfulness, the formative forces, and so forth are entities (padārtha) included in the category of “qualities” and are not substances (dravya): We do not accept this. We hold that everything that exists (vidyamāna) is a “substance.” The sutra says: “The fruits of the religious life (the fruits of śramaṇa practice) are precisely six substances [namely, the five undefiled skandhas and cessation through discernment].” Thus, it is erroneous to say that mindfulness and so forth have the self as their support, for we have already refuted this notion of support above.

(Vaiśeṣika) If the self does not truly exist, what will the fruit of karma be?

(Author of the Treatise) The fruit of karma is precisely the fact that the “self” experiences pleasure or suffering.

(Vaiśeṣika) What is this self of which you speak?

(Author of the Treatise) It is that to which people refer when they say “I” (self), namely, the object of the conception of self (ahaṃkāraviṣaya).

(Vaiśeṣika) What is this object?

(Author of the Treatise) It is the continuum of the skandhas (skandhasaṃtāna), because it is precisely the skandhas—form, body, feeling, and so forth—to which people cling; and because the conception of “I” arises in relation to the very same things to which the conception of whiteness and other similar conceptions relate. Do people in the world not commonly say, “I am white; I am black; I am old; I am young; I am thin; I am fat”?

That which is regarded as white and so forth—clearly, the skandha of form (rūpa), comprising visible color and shape—is the very same thing that people regard as “I.” The “self” admitted by the Vaiśeṣikas is different from that which is white, black, and so forth; but in reality, the conception of “I” relates only to the skandhas and not to the “self” imagined by the Vaiśeṣikas.

(Vaiśeṣika) It is merely by way of analogy that worldly people designate this body as “I” when they say, “I am white.” This analogy is accurate because the body serves a real “I” and is useful to an actual “I,” just as a king often speaks to his ministers as though speaking of another “self” of his own.

(Author) Although people have established the designation “I” by analogy for things that are useful to the “self,” this cannot explain the designation “I” [with regard to the body, feeling, consciousness, and so forth].

(Vaiśeṣika) If the conception of “I” has as its object the color and shape of the body, as well as the other skandhas, why does this conception not arise with regard to the color and shape of another person?

(Author) Because there is no connection between the continuum of another person’s skandhas and this conception. When body or mind (rūpa, citta-caittas) is related to the conception of “I”—that is, through the relation of cause to effect—this conception arises with regard to this body and this mind, but not with regard to other skandhas. The habit of regarding “my continuum” as “I” has existed within “my continuum” since beginningless time.

(Vaiśeṣika) If there is no “self,” to whom does the conception of “I” belong?

(Author) We answered this question when explaining to whom mindfulness belongs. What is called the “master or possessor of mindfulness” is precisely the cause of mindfulness. The same applies to the conception of “I.”

(Vaiśeṣika) What is the cause of this conception of “I”?

(Author) It is a defiled mind, perfumed since beginningless time by this very conception of “I,” whose object is the continuum of minds within which it has arisen.

(Vaiśeṣika) If there is no self, who experiences suffering and pleasure?

(Author) It is precisely the supporting basis (āśraya) in which suffering or pleasure has arisen, just as people commonly speak of a tree having flowers or a forest having fruit. And it is this supporting basis that is spoken of, whichever of the six internal ayatanas (the eye ayatana, and so forth) it may be. This matter was explained in the first chapter.

(Vaiśeṣika) If there is no self, who creates karma, and who experiences its result?

(Author) What do you intend to indicate when you speak of one who creates and one who experiences?

(Vaiśeṣika) We mean an agent (kartṛ, doer) and an experiencer (upabhoktṛ, recipient).

(Author) Your explanation merely changes the words without explaining anything at all.

Here the Vaiśeṣikas wish to invoke the doctrine of those who explain the characteristics of dharmas (dharmalakṣanas). They say that an agent is one who possesses independent power, while an experiencer is one who undergoes the result of karma. In the world, anyone who attains independent power (svatantrya) with respect to a particular action is regarded as its agent. For example, Devadatta, because he is able to bathe, eat, and walk by himself, is called “the bather, the eater, the walker.” This definition, however, cannot be accepted.

What is meant by Devadatta? If Devadatta is the self (ātman), the individual self, then this analogy is unsubstantiated and invalid. If Devadatta is an aggregation of the skandhas, then Devadatta is indeed an agent, but not an independent agent that creates karma.

Karma is of three kinds: bodily, verbal, and mental. What gives rise to bodily karma is the mind acting upon the body; moreover, both body and mind must depend upon their respective causes and conditions. Among all that has been discussed above, there is no unitary entity, no “producer,” that relies solely upon itself; in other words, there is no independent “producer.” This is because everything that exists depends upon causes and conditions.

The “individual self” to which you refer does not depend upon causes and conditions; moreover, it does nothing. Therefore, it is not an independent agent. Nowhere can one discern the existence of an agent conforming to your definition that “whoever attains independent power… is regarded as an agent.” What is called the agent of a particular karma is simply the principal cause among all the causes of that karma.

According to this definition, what you call the “individual self” is not the agent.

What is the principal cause at the origin of bodily karma?—Mindfulness (smṛti) gives rise to aspiration or the desire to act (chanda = kartukāmatā); from this desire arises an examination (vitarka); from this examination, in turn, arises an effort (pratyatna), and this effort gives rise to a breath (vāyu) that sets bodily karma in motion. Within this process, which activity belongs to the Vaiśeṣikas’ “individual self”? This individual self is certainly not the agent of bodily karma. Verbal and mental karma are explained in the same way.

You may say that it is the “individual self” itself that experiences the result because it discerns or knows the result; but in truth, the “individual self” plays no role at all in discerning the result. It is not numbered among the causes that produce consciousness, as we demonstrated above.

(Vaiśeṣika) If there is no individual self, why do wholesome and unwholesome karmas not “ripen” in insentient bodies (asattvākhya)?

(Author) Because factors that are not constituents of sentient beings cannot serve as the supporting basis for feeling and so forth. Only the six faculties (ādhyātmika ṣaḍāyatana) serve as the supporting basis for feeling and so forth, not the individual self, as we demonstrated above.

(Vaiśeṣika) If there is no “individual self,” how can past karma that has ceased produce a future result?

(Author) We answer this question by asking in return: even if there were an individual self, how could a karma that has ceased possess the power to produce a result? The Vaiśeṣikas maintain that a result can arise from merit and “demerit” (dharma, adharma), which are qualities (guṇa) inherent in the individual self and dependent upon it. But we have criticized the notion of dependence and shown that it is unreasonable.

Next, we observe that, according to the Buddhist teaching (ārya deśanā), the future result does not arise from the karma that has ceased, but from the final moment in the process of transformation of the continuum originating from that karma.

Indeed, let us examine how a fruit arises from a seed. The world says that the fruit arises from the seed; but in saying this, people do not mean to assert that the fruit arises from a seed that has perished, nor do they mean that the fruit arises immediately after the seed [that is, from the seed “after it has ceased”]. In fact, the fruit arises from the final moment in the process of transformation of the continuum originating from the seed: the seed successively gives rise to the sprout, stem, leaves, and finally the flower, leading to the existence of the fruit.

If it is said that the seed produces the fruit, it is because the seed, through an uninterrupted continuum, has engendered in the flower a capacity to produce the fruit. If this fruit-producing capacity, namely the capacity present in the flower, did not have the seed as its initial cause, the flower could not produce a fruit resembling the seed. It is in this same manner that the fruit is said to arise from karma.

The fruit, however, cannot arise from karma that has ceased, nor does it arise immediately after the karma; rather, it arises only from the final moment in the process of transformation of the continuum initiated by that karma.

By “continuum” (saṃtāna), we mean the skandhas of matter and mind continuously succeeding one another in a series, with karma as the initial cause of that series. The successive moments of this continuum differ from one another; hence there is a transformation (pariṇāma) of the continuum. The final moment of this transformation possesses a distinctive or supreme efficacy: the efficacy that directly produces the fruit. This moment differs from the other moments; it is therefore called the “distinction” (viśeṣa), that is, the supreme moment of the process of transformation.

For example, the mind at the time of death (maraṇacitta), when associated with grasping (sa-upādāna), acquires the capacity to produce a new life. Although this mind is preceded by many karmas belonging to all the various categories, it is the efficacy generated by weighty karma that determines this final mind. If there is no weighty karma, the efficacy is generated by proximate karma; if there is no proximate karma, it is generated by habitually performed karma (karma reinforced through repeated cultivation); if there is no habitual karma, it is generated by karma from a previous life.

A verse [written by Rāhula] says: “Weighty karma, proximate karma, habitual karma, and karma from a previous life—these four kinds of karma yield their fruits in this order.” There is reason to establish the difference between the fruit of maturation (vipākaphala) and the outflowing fruit (niṣyandaphala). When the efficacy (sāmarthya) that produces a fruit of maturation—that is, the efficacy generated by karma that undergoes maturation—has yielded its fruit, that efficacy immediately ceases.

In contrast, the efficacy that produces an outflowing fruit—that is, the efficacy generated by a “cause similar to its fruit” (sabhāgahetu, homogeneous cause)—does not cease after yielding its fruit. When defiled (kliṣṭa), this efficacy ceases through the power of an antidote (pratipakṣa); when undefiled, it ceases upon entry into nirvana, because at that time the continuum of matter and mind is also permanently dissolved.

It is asked why a new fruit of maturation does not arise from a fruit of maturation, just as a new fruit arises from the fruit of a tree, since the fruit itself is also the seed.

We reply that there is no case in which a new fruit arises directly from a fruit-bearing seed. From what, then, would the new fruit arise, if not from the transformation of a new continuum? When the original fruit-bearing seed encounters the conditions necessary for maturation and transformation, such as water, soil, and so forth, it ultimately gives rise to the supreme moment of the process of transformation; from that moment a new fruit arises.

At the moment when the sprout (aṅkura) arises, the old fruit is then designated a seed. Before this process of transformation, if the fruit is called a seed, this is merely a designation referring to its future state, or a designation justified by the resemblance between a seed lacking the capacity to produce fruit and one possessing that capacity. The same applies here: when a fruit of maturation, such as the body and so forth, encounters conditions that give rise to good and evil, the true Dharma and false teachings, it generates minds of the corresponding kind—unwholesome minds or wholesome minds accompanied by outflows (kuśalasāsrava).

From these minds there again proceeds a transformation of the mental continuum that continues until, at its final stage, it produces a new fruit of maturation. In other circumstances, this fruit of maturation does not arise. Thus, the foregoing example proves our thesis.

The nature of the fruit of maturation may also be illustrated by another example [showing that a new fruit of maturation need not immediately follow the first fruit of maturation]. If one applies lac dye (lākṣā) to color a citron blossom red, the process of transformation within that plant’s continuum will cause the seeds of a new citron fruit to become red. Yet seeds taken from this red-seeded citron will not produce another citron whose seeds are red.

The fruit of maturation of karma is likewise: it does not itself produce a new fruit of maturation.

Within the scope of my understanding (the sphere of my own awakened wisdom), I have presented the fruits of karma briefly and in broad outline. As for how a continuum impregnated by karmas of differing kinds and capacities may undergo a particular transformation so as ultimately to acquire the capacity to produce a fruit at a particular stage—this is known only to the Buddhas. A verse says: “Karma, the impregnation by karma, the pervasive course of that impregnation, and the kind of fruit arising therefrom—were it not for a Buddha, no one could know all these things throughout the entirety of their process.”

Thus, we see that the teaching of the Buddhas is brought to perfection through a path of lucid reasoning that refutes the opinions of those blinded by wrong views and evil conduct; those who are not blind proceed to nirvana.

Indeed, so long as this teaching of the nonexistence of self, this sole road to the city of nirvana, remains illuminated by the rays—that is, the teachings—of the sun that is the Tathagata, this teaching and this road will continue to be followed by thousands of noble ones and will remain open and unobstructed; those whose vision is feeble and dim cannot perceive this teaching.