Change: Thinking through Sāṅkhya

Abstract

This paper explores the ways change is addressed in Sāṅkhya, one of the major Hindu schools of philosophy, specifically in light of the classical debate between Hindu and the Buddhist philosophers regarding intrinsic nature (svabhāva) and the concept of transformation (pariṇāma). When we closely analyze Sāṅkhya categories, the issue of temporality stands out, because for Sāṅkhya philosophers time is not a distinct category and is infrequently addressed in classical Sāṅkhya. Nonetheless, we can still extract two different notions related to time, dynamism intrinsic to rajas, and temporality that is enclosed within the notion of space and spatial objects. What this implies is that the temporality implicit within the concept of change is only applicable to the last of the evolutes, according to Sāṅkhya cosmology. However, the Sāṅkhyan idea of 16 transformations (pariṇāma) applies to all categories, except puruṣa. By exploiting the parameters of these arguments, this paper makes the case for a closer analysis of the category of transformation in classical Sāṅkhya. Reading about change in the light of svabhāva, the intrinsic nature of an entity, versus the idea of its termination, allows us to have a wider conversation on what it means for something to change from within the Sāṅkhya paradigm.

1. Introduction

Historically, change as a relational category has been analyzed in the light of something constant. Buddhism developed change itself as an absolute category. The classical debate on two issues, whether change implies something permanent or if change is self-determining, reflects one of the key categories for philosophical dialogue between Buddhist and Hindu thinkers. Whether in physics or philosophy, grounding change in the absence of something constant invites multiple challenges. Setting aside these metaphysical issues, an epistemic issue arises: how to establish the concept of change independent of something permanent. Even the Buddhist arguments concerning change presuppose the prima facie position of permanence. That is, even while Buddhists denied the existence of anything permanent, their understanding of change relies upon permanence. In this frame, change becomes an absolute, lacking varying degrees of intensity, requiring different temporal durations that are antithetical, while adopting an absolutism of temporality. Noteworthy for our current conversation is the juxtaposition of the Sāṅkhya notion of pariṇāma with the Buddhist theory of non-origination, or the origination of the non-existent (asatkāryavāda). The central argument is that the Sāṅkhya concept of pariṇāma makes a distinction between dharma and dharmin and, while dharmas change when an old dharma ceases to exist and new dharma comes into being, the dharmin remains constant. Vasubandhu and Dharmakirti object to this model of causality, first pointing to the inseparability of dharma and dharmin, wherein there is no dharmin in isolation from dharmas, and therefore dharmin cannot continue to exist in the cessation of dharmas. If the Sāṅkhyan notion of change is rooted in continuity, the Buddhist notion is grounded on cessation. The core issue in this conversation is whether something continues to exist when change happens or whether the emergence of B requires the destruction of A. We can glean further information from the position of a philosopher, Vārṣagaṇya, whose literature is available only in citation. When engaging with the concept of pariṇāma in Sāṅkhya, Watanabe (2011, p. 558) attributes to Vārṣagaṇya the view that vināśa only means disappearance and not the cessation of the existence of the entity. This position, while credited to Vārṣagaṇya, should be acknowledged as being much more widely prevalent, as Pāṇini interprets in dhātupāṭha, √ṇas adarśane, as in the meaning of being invisible; accordingly, the words derived from this root, such as nāśa, do not refer to cessation of an entity but simply its disappearance. Speaking from the Sāṅkhya perspective, the entity as such does not ever cease to exist, closely aligning with the Sanskrit term for an entity, “something that continues to exist” (vastu, from the root √vas). In this paper, I will explore the ways change is defined in Sāṅkhya.1

Evidently, the very concept of change and causation implies that there is a new entity that did not exist before in either structure or name, but change also implies that something endures. This ambivalence has prompted many schools of classical Hindu philosophy to argue for a position of homogeneity that accommodates heterogeneity, or the idea of identity while having difference (bhedābheda). Evidently the prima facie material and its effect cannot be identical, because otherwise the very concept of causality would be a moot point. However, given that cause and effect are different, the Sāṅkhya concept of pariṇāma stresses continuity, where the cause is consistent in its effect and what constitutes an effect is the appearance of new guṇas and the disappearance of old ones, for example, how the color red is latent in the spring whereas green leaves later turn into brilliantly colored autumn leaves. The same concept of pariṇāma is modified in Siddhānta Śaiva or some Vaiṣṇava schools as proposed in the concept of bhedābheda, where different guṇas manifest in the effect and are therefore effects that are different but, at the same time, manifest the essential entity that continues to exist and is therefore identical to its cause (Acri 2021, pp. 535–69). As we can see in the bhedābheda concept as detailed above, this tendency of shifting the core categories on causality to make an ontological statement is also explicit in the Jain understanding of sad-asat-kārya-vāda, the thesis that the effect is both existent and non-existent in its cause (Bajželj 2020).

Broadly, change and permanence in Sāṅkhya underscore two central categories: prakṛti and puruṣa. Etymologically, the word prakṛti denotes the primacy of action, as the word is derived from i + √kṛ + ktin.2 The other category, puruṣa, is derived in multiple different ways,3 and in the Sāṅkhya context, where puruṣa lacks inherent dynamism, it can be derived as puri śete, or the one that sleeps in the body or in the enclosure. Accordingly, puruṣa would then refer to the stable entity that is not subject to change. This metaphysical bifurcation–something that establishes a permanent basis versus something that revolves around it–has nothing to do with the world of our commonsense experience. Just like the Buddhist philosophers, Sāṅkhyans also adhere to the idea that the world of commonsense experience is in flux. However, change, as Sāṅkhya philosophers explain, does not imply substitution, and therefore what changes into new modalities has always been present, always changing. As for the world of commonsense experience, both terms that determine it, saṃsāra, derived from am + √sṛ + ghañ, and jagat, derived from √gam, to go or to move, inherently refer to dynamism.

The central topic of this investigation is change, as espoused by Sāṅkhya philosophers. But the concept of change is universal, and it is relevant that we contextualize the Sāṅkhyan notion of change within the broader context of change as a universal category. Before engaging the definitions and metaphysics of change, it is necessary to address the parameters. For some who reject or defend change, what they mean is for Q[X] (the entity X having a defining quality Q) to change into Q1[X] or to have a slight variation in the same quality, or alternatively, for Q[X] to change into R[X], meaning that the entity X would have an entirely new defining quality. In both accounts, the entity X remains unchanged. Others, whether rejecting or defending change, understand the category X to change into Y. This position is particularly relevant in contextualizing Buddhist nominalism, which rejects the existence of universals or entities extending over space and time, considering such entities as merely conventional. For those who reject an entity having a homologous and generic character, the category change can only mean substitution, and therefore there could be no continuity of the same entity when it changes. In contrast to the Sautrāntika reading of change, Sāṅkhya philosophy underscores the consistency of an entity over time, although the world (jagat or saṃsāra) itself is defined by its capacity to change. This somewhat echoes the dialogue on change and permanence between the followers of Heraclitus and Parmenides. However, the Sāṅkhyan notion of permanence rests on two types of permanence: the foundational motionless consistency (kūṭastha-nityatā), and the permanency of dynamism (pravāha-nityatā), where the first type of permanence corresponds to the conscious subject (puruṣa), the second relates to prakṛti and its evolutes.4 We can find a similar conversation in Kant: in terms of variation by appearance or the concept of appearance as temporal (Critique of Pure Reason, A 182 B 225), Kant conceives of the object itself as permanent, whereas its determination (the ways in which the object exists) is mutable. For Kant, though, “all appearance(s)are in time”. The variations of an object are determined either through simultaneity or succession, both temporal concepts. In contrast to the Kantian understanding of change, temporality, and objectivity in general, this paper argues that the change in terms of pariṇāma in Sāṅkhya is not necessarily temporal. Time as a category is not applicable to the Sāṅkhyan concept of change.5 This position requires that we address what it means for something to change, where change is not temporally determined.

Next, change is a relative concept: it is only in relation to something changeless that we can contextualize change. But so also is temporality only in relation to something having a non-relative presence in order that entities can be addressed in temporal categories. This issue is worth exploring through the Sāṅkhya notion of change, as for Sāṅkhya time is not a real category. This makes it necessary that we separately view the inherent dynamism of prakṛti with the change in succession that is temporal. This means that the category change both as addressed in the Sāṅkhya of three guṇas and what we generally understand by change in a temporal sense needs to be reexamined.6 Rather than interpreting change as antithetical to permanence, we need to understand pariṇāma or transformation of prakṛti as constant and contrast this type of consistency with the permanence of puruṣa. What we can extract by contrasting temporally determined change with the consistency of the flow of prakṛti in giving rise to its evolutes is that the pariṇāma intrinsic to prakṛti is not the cessation of a temporal entity giving rise to a heterogenous entity diachronically. It is not necessary that the consistency that is maintained through the modes of transformation, as categorized as pariṇāṃa-nityatā, addresses all the transformed entities. By borrowing the concept from Vyāsa-bhāṣya, we can argue that there are two types of transformation: the one whose finality has been actualized (labdhaparyavasāna), and the one whose finality cannot be actualized (alabdhaparyavasāna). It is not necessary for the evolutes, for instance ‘intellect’ (buddhi), to continue in their form or to have their originality preserved in the course of mutation. However, the change intrinsic to prakṛti, or the change within the three guṇas, from the Sāṅkhyan paradigm, does not come to any fruition. And this therefore makes the case that even if the manifest modes of prakṛti cease to exist for those who have actualized the foundational difference between puruṣa and prakrti, the process continues to unfold with regard to those who have not actualized their true nature.7 It is not the case that prakṛti ceases to function upon the liberation of one subject. For, if prakṛti were to return to its primordial state upon a subject’s liberation, meaning involution with regard to all the manifest categories, there will be several consequences:

I.

The consistency in the form of the flow (pravāha-nityatā) has a determinate course, meaning, the consistency of the flow is not an actual consistency, a consequence.

II.

Prakrti as such is defined as the category that does not actualize its finality in terms of transformation (alabdhaparyavasānā), and, if prakṛti were to return to the primordial state and merely reside in the form of guṇas, it would contradict what has been the defining mark of prakṛti, i.e., to not actualize its terminal point.

III.

The dynamism attributed to prakṛti would be an imposed trope and not its intrinsic nature. For example, consider whether a heated iron rod can burn, in spite of burning not being an inherent nature of the iron. However, since burning is the inherent nature of fire, we cannot conceive of fire that is bereft of its burning capacity.

2. Change and Pariṇāma

The concept of change is always bound together with notions of causation, time, and motion. While the issues related to time and causality are broadly intertwined, the Sāṅkhya paradigm separates the issue of causality from that of temporality. For time is not a distinctive category in Sāṅkhya and temporality is addressed only in relation to space and entities in space. As it turns out, space is one of the last evolutes in Sāṅkhya metaphysics. Therefore, the concept of pariṇāma as change underscores causality where causality is not necessarily intertwined with temporality. In essence, change that is conditioned by spatial or temporal markers is distinct from change designated as such by pariṇāma which is applicable to the transformation of prakṛti into the manifold. Furthermore, when it comes to causation, we therefore need to make a distinction between the general causation that we exemplify in the material world and causation as far as the evolutes of prakṛti are concerned. For the internal change of evolutes, all the way to their expression in the form of five mahābhūtas, is categorically different from alteration in their elemental configuration, and this can be seen in all the examples of transformation, be that of threads and cloth, clay and clay-pot, or gold and golden ornaments. Roma Ray (1982) has argued that, for the doctrine of pariṇāma to be complete or for the Sāṅkhya model of causality to be taken seriously, it needs to incorporate a category of an instrumental cause (nimitta kāraṇa) within its system, relying on the argument that a pot is not latent in the potter, nor does a pot manifest by mere emanation without some external cause. What is missing in this argument are all the examples of causality that Sāṅkhya provides, which are mere illustrations to demonstrate the internal alteration of prakṛti into its evolutes, without the instrumentality of time or space in the process of manifestation of all the evolutes. The argument is that, in all entities that are mediated by an instrumental cause, the instrumentality of time is inseparable. While reconfiguration of the five elements into varied structures does require instrumentality, and since we do have time in its expressed sense as well as space with the manifestation of five elements, this does not apply to any of the evolutes that precede the mahābhūtas, nor does this apply to mahābhūtas either, for space cannot be instrumental in giving rise to space, nor can time give rise to temporality.

The Sāṅkhya understanding of puruṣa and prakṛti can be compared to the ‘permanent object’ in Kantian terms. However, change in Sāṅkhya, as discussed above, is completely decoupled from temporality. The time that makes relationality possible, from the Sāṅkhyan perspective, is contingent upon five elements from sky to earth, but these are the last of the evolutes, and if pariṇāma is change, most of what change means in Sāṅkhya is preconceived within the axis of spatio-temporality. But there is more to it. If change is intrinsic to prakṛti, that essentially means that dynamism, thanks to rajas, is one of its inherent qualities. It the case that there is prakṛti separate from these guṇas such as rajas which are there to qualify it, like someone wearing a white shirt. Prakṛti is not something to which guṇas are added, and so, while dynamism intrinsically constitutes prakṛti, and even though inertia is integral to prakṛti, rajas alone does not determine what constitutes prakṛti. Nevertheless, there is nothing that gives rajas its dynamism, as it is what it is. If time is to be intrinsic to rajas for its dynamism, this is the very dynamism that is to be equated with absolute temporality and not the dynamism that emerges from temporality. While this conversation identifies the Sāṅkhyan notion of pariṇāma with unique properties that cannot be reduced to the category change, it also makes it necessary to ground change in the absence of notions of space and time. From the Sāṅkhya perspective, the transformation of prakṛti into intellect (buddhi) can mean different things:

I.

Creature consciousness that makes egoity possible,

II.

Judgmental consciousness that makes ascertainment or determination possible, or

III.

The ground for the emergence of the phenomenal ego and of other evolutes that follow the phenomenal ego.

None of these manifestations are to be considered as temporal events from the Sāṅkhya perspective, and accordingly, there is no change in space in these transformative modes. The entire conversation on pariṇāma is silent about spatio-temporal change; there is no conversation about extrinsic change (for example, a dog coming to sit next to a cat), but it does address intrinsic change (in this example, changes in the mental state of the cat). The Sāṅkhyan notion of change, therefore, is about the evolution of categories led entirely through the intrinsic thrust of rajas. While external factors can be instrumental in causing change, what causes an entity to change is fundamentally about inherent factors of the entity in flux. This leads to the conclusion that any causality attributed to external factors is merely an imposition of the properties from one entity to the next.

Even though prakṛti embodies dynamism, we cannot equate dynamism with prakṛti. Although the constituent rajas reflects dynamism, the other two constituents of sattva and tamas lack it, and therefore prakṛti as the totality cannot be identified with any one of these qualifiers as such. Even then, the other guṇas are also equally acting. In the act of illumination (sattva) or in the act of inertia (tamas), they are actively revealing or concealing, and so they are not in opposition to dynamism. But these acts of prakṛti are not ‘acts’ in the everyday sense, as they do not entail temporality. If we understand temporality as distinct from this inherent dynamism, then relative temporality underscores spatialization, the manifestation of ākāśa, and this time already implies change, as the sky is one qualifier within the last set of evolutes. Causation in this light is not intrinsically linked with temporality, for manifestation of evolutes is a constant process that defines prakṛti; there is no instant where prakṛti is not unfolding, for that would contradict its inherent nature (svabhāva). We therefore need to distinguish the everyday use of the term change from the inherent dynamism of prakṛti, for our use of the term underscores spatio-temporality. Yet again, time is not the cause in propelling an evolution of prakṛti, as there is neither temporality above the category prakṛti, nor does prakṛti depend on external factors to express its inherent nature. There is nothing to cause guṇas to change; it is what they do. It is change then that makes space and time possible, and changes that we observe in space and time are relational and do not reflect the absolute dynamism of prakṛti. In essence, the Sāṅkhyan understanding is that the world is an organismic process lacking an actual beginning or end. This is a closed system in the sense that there is no outside agency, and the dynamism of prakṛti does not have a predetermined teleology or a teleology imposed by some external factor. If puruṣa were to be expunged from the matrix of Sāṅkhya metaphysics, then change in itself would be blind. Even the arrow of evolution from prakṛti to the five elements (mahābhūtas) does not imply a real change in what is changing, i.e., prakṛti, as what change implies here is merely modifications and not an elimination of the triadic structure of prakṛti. When one guṇa comes to fully display its potencies, other guṇas are dormant and are not eliminated, only resting till they get their turn to come to prominence. According to the Sāṅkhya paradigm, what is created never exceeds its triadic structure of being composed of guṇas that maintain its dynamism. In the Sāṅkhya world, everything except for puruṣa is subject to change, whereas puruṣa is the witnessing self that observes the dynamism that envelops the rest.

3. Change: Rethinking Prakṛti and Its Evolutes

I begin this conversation with three propositions:

I.

Action entails change. But change does not entail temporality.

II.

Change is spontaneous: it does not require any agent.

III.

Change is not antithetical to permanence. It only identifies two types of constants, the constant that does not change and the one that constantly changes.

Following the first proposition (action entails change but change does not entail temporality), action is a temporal event that entails change. But not all changes are temporal and not all change qualifies as action. To begin with, there is nothing to cause prakṛti to change, and there is no temporality above and beyond prakṛti to cause change; prakṛti changes by itself in the form of evolutes such as mahat. If temporality is a condition for conceiving of change, temporality needs to be conceived of within the belly of prakṛti. This, however, is not the mainstream Sāṅkhya argument. When Vijñānabhikṣu says, “time and space are the sky itself”,8 he is resting his argument on Sāṅkhyasūtra, “time and space are not separate from the sky etc”.9 While commenting upon this Sūtra, Vijñānabhikṣu makes an observation that “the constant space and time are the primal nature of the sky and are the guṇas of the very prakṛti and this is what makes it possible for space and time to be all-encompassing”.10 Accordingly, the determined space and time are products of the five elements that confine the predetermined all-encompassing space and time, and these in turn, are the inherent guṇas of prakṛti. This leads to the conclusion that space and time are intrinsic to prakṛti, and change in space and time is change in the guṇas of prakṛti. But since prakṛti does not change into something else, as all the evolutes retain their primordial characteristic to return to their original nature, time and change cannot be separated from prakṛti. But this also leads to the consequence that any change in prakṛti does not lead to irreversible change, as that would amount to substitution. If prakṛti were to change into something else, that would amount to prakṛti self-annihilating in the mode of its transformation, and change and annihilation would be identical. Since time does not exceed prakṛti, Yuktidīpika [YD] explicitly rejects it as a category:

“For us, there is no entity called time.”11

Time, according to YD, is merely:

“An instrument in giving rise to the consciousness of the duration of the actions that are being performed, such as the revolving of the sun, milking a cow, or (hearing) thunder”.12

Following the second proposition, change is spontaneous and does not require any external agency. Dynamism is not action, because there exists an inherent dynamism that is non-temporal, and this non-temporal dynamism is intrinsic to the entities that are constant, or that are not temporally determined. The dynamism of prakṛti is what makes change possible, and this is not an ‘intelligent design’,13 as there is no agency over the mutation of prakṛti and its tendencies. This is explicit in the following Yuktidīpikā (YD) statement:

“Sattva etc., which are being mutually supported by their inherent properties such as illumination etc., do not depend upon the facilitation of a conscious agent”.14

To bolster his position, the author of YD cites the statement of Vārṣagaṇya:

“The motivation of prakṛti is spontaneous and is not facilitated by a conscious agent”.15

The fundamental Sāṅkhya position that is later confronted in the Trika system, is the concept that consciousness is fundamentally passive, actionless. YD argues:

“Motion is affirmed only of insentient entities such as milk and not of any sentient entity, and therefore the conscious agent is motionless”.16

When this actionless consciousness is inverted in the paradigm of no transformation, and if the plurality of puruṣa is reduced to the plurality of the inner cognitive complex (antaḥ-karaṇa) or that of the phenomenal ego (ahaṃkāra), this position leads to the Advaita of Śaṅkara, for the self in both accounts is not agentive in any actions, and is of the character of consciousness that lacks any directionality. For both philosophies, change is within the domain of prakṛti. The only difference is that the Advaita of Śaṅkara considers prakṛti and its modifications to be a projection of mayā. Nevertheless, as far as the nature of consciousness and the self is concerned, Sāṅkhya and Advaita merge ever closer. And if we were to read prakṛti as being not diametrically opposite but intrinsic to the absolute all-embracing category, and further read dynamism as inherently woven in the fabric of the absolute, this leads to the Trika paradigm. If Advaita rejects change in any absolute sense, the Trika system rejects the thesis that change is blind. We need to address Sāṅkhyan notion of change within these parameters.

Finally, following the third proposition that change is not antithetical to permanence, both what does not change and what changes are permanently existing. While this is simply reframing the concept of prakṛti as one that is intrinsically dynamic and puruṣa as that which never changes, the explicit reference for this third proposition can be found in Vyāsa-bhāṣya upon the Yogasūtra:

“Permanence is twofold–the changeless (kūṭastha) permanence and changing permanence. The changeless permanence corresponds to puruṣa whereas the guṇas are endowed with transforming permanence. If the essential nature is not destroyed upon it being changed, [the result is] permanence. Both are permanent for they both lack the destruction of their essential nature”.17

The soteriological implications in how the category of transformation is recognized can be observe if we analyze it how the category of nirodha is examined in both the Buddhist Yogācāra school and the Yoga system of Patañjali.18 Following the Buddhist perspective, the ‘repression’ (nirodha) of the mind is not a change in mental state, either from having one specific property to lacking that property. From the Patañjalian perspective, at least following the way the Vyāsa-bhāṣya glosses the text, repression and emergence are two modes of mind, and these two tendencies merely illustrate the states in which the mind is, and not that the mind ceases to exist upon the state of ‘repression’ (nirodha). Vyāsa-bhāṣya expands upon this, that

“The property (dharma) is nothing above and beyond the essential nature of the entity having that property (dharmin), and it is by means of (change in) the property that transformation in the property-bearer is explained”.19

The property-bearer (dharmin) in this context is the mind (citta), and the property being addressed here is ‘repression’ (nirodha) which in itself constitutes a specific mental modification, a saṃskāra, which indeed is a property of the mind. The property does not exist in the absence of a property-bearer, and if there is no mind to endure through nirodha, then no modification of mind is possible due to the fact of undergoing nirodha. Along the same lines, the emergence of new properties, of course in relation to the mind, is compared in this light to change in appearance, like gold fashioned into a golden bracelet. The temporal shift, or alteration in temporal markers, is determined, accordingly, as change in character (lakṣaṇa), and aging, for instance is given as an example of change in condition (avasthā).20 The entity as such, therefore, does not follow the course of time. On the contrary, properties keep evolving, and as new properties emerge, old ones cease to exist, and therefore are temporal.21

4. Defining Change

The above conversation demonstrates an unbridgeable gap between the ways change is understood. This classical debate has its parallel in classical Greek thinking as stated above, between the positions of Heraclitus and Parmenides, with the first maintaining that everything changes and the latter that nothing changes in reality. For us to contextualize the concept of change in Sāṅkhya, we can closely analyze some statements in YD, a commentary on SK. But before we engage these passages, we need to recognize the triadic structure of change in Sāṅkhya, wherein

I.

The basic entity that changes into manifold forms, prakṛti;

II.

The manifest manifoldness, vikṛti; and

III.

The constant that neither is the basic entity in change nor the changed manifold, the puruṣa (SK, verse 3).

From within this triad, the changing guṇas that give rise to categories such as mahat underscore their fundamental character that is neither to be reduced to its ground nor to be radically differentiated from it. Making evolutes as absolutely identical would reject the notion of causality, but at the same time, something being diametrically opposite would also reject the causal relation. On these grounds, SK stresses that evolutes are neither homogenous nor heterogenous to their cause.

What then does the category change (pariṇāma) mean in the Sāṅkhya context?

What is pariṇāma? First, let us read two outside sources and then we shall directly engage Sāṅkhya texts for further consideration:

I.

Transformation refers to the activation of a new property upon the disappearance of the earlier property corresponding to an enduring substance.22

II.

The term pariṇāma refers to the manifestation of the new property upon disappearance of the earlier property corresponding to an enduring substance.23

We can initiate our reflection on the basis of the following statements from the Yuktidīpikā:

I.

When the property-possessor, after its previous property has disappeared (tirobhāvya) due to its receiving (anugraha) another power without abandoning its nature (svarūpa), appears with another property, we then call such a situation transformation. (YD on SK, verse 16. Translation, (Watanabe 2011, p. 557)).24

II.

(The category) change of an entity refers to inactivation of one dharma and activation another dharma. Here, the suppression of an existing dharma and manifestation of a non-existing dharma is proposed, and so this does not confirm the emergence of a new entity.25

On the one hand, identity is maintained between dhrmas and the entity is endowed with those dharmas, while on the other hand, dharmas are constantly changing whereas the entity endowed with them is not. This is reconciled by following the above argument, on the basis of the YS-Yuktidīpikā statement, that dharmas are nothing more than the base entity to which they inhere. To confirm this position of change, YD cites a verse:

“While resigning the earlier dharma and the new ones, when an entity (endowed with those dharmas) does not cease from among the existents, it is called change”.26

To further extend the concept of change as the alteration of an entity, Yuktidīpikā gives further explanation:

When a particular structure of the threads that is called cloth is brought to manifestation by means of the act-participants by means of their corresponding operations while (the entity) as such is an assemblage, there is a convention of the common people that (an entity) is made, or emerges, or is born, etc. And when the act-participants retrieve the previous state before the manifestation of new structure, the structure that was encountered before becomes the reference of the word ‘cessation.’ In reality, neither is there manifestation of an entity nor its cessation.27

The category change (pariṇāma) here captures the sense of all three following cases:

I.

The change of structure, as in making cloth or pot, where threads or clay change their original structure.

II.

The change of water into ice where a new crystalline structure emerges that did not exist in the fluid form.

III.

The case of birth, as in birth of a kitten.

The third case is categorically different from the earlier ones, as a new kitten is not an alteration of the same old cat. However, this is where the difference lies between nominalists and those accepting the consistency of a generic cat. For those who accept the universals, there is no emergence of a generic entity cat in the birth of a new kitten.

In other words, change is not the emergence of a previously non-existent entity. But this does not imply rejection of novelty, for novelty is not a substitution of what existed before but is the manifestation of a new structure where some of the tendencies that were prominent before are now subsumed as new ones manifest. However, this is not to say that those guṇas that manifest in a new structure did not exist prior to their manifestation. For these guṇas are dormant in their intrinsic form of potency only, and they manifest when they find their appropriate moment. There is no limit to the extent to which prakṛti can give rise to new structures. Speaking in biological terms, the substitution of base chemicals is not necessary for manifestation of a new species.

It is change as such that is identified with terms such as emergence or creation, etc. Change implies continuity of the base entity at the same time as an alteration of the manifest guṇas. Therefore, a dog does not change into a plant, nor does a plant mutate into an elephant. An entity that is credited to change, in this light, is a generic entity that undergoes structural change. YD defines structure as assuming the particularity of what is generic, and this is called (having) a structure.28 Basically, when we confront an entity and identify change, we are referring to the structure and not what lies beneath that structure. What is assumed in all causal relations is that, while an effect is not different from its cause in essence, it is nevertheless different in structure. So if an entity is different from its cause, it is with regard to the manifest structure, and if it is identified as the same, it is with regard to its essence. This is what is underscored in the statement, “the effect is different in structure with its cause while also similar in form”.29 In essence, when it comes to determining homogeneity and heterogeneity, it depends on subject’s intention: in relation to something different, that something is determined to be similar and in relation to something similar, it is yet somewhat different.

The above understanding of change cannot be reduced to change that is determined within the limitations of change in space and time. In this regard, we need to closely analyze the categorization of change as emphasized in YD. For instance, YD categorizes two types of motion (kriyā), one in the form of change and the other in the form of pulsation.30 Accordingly, motion in the form of change is restricted to an entity undergoing alteration in its structure, and that is caused due to cessation of earlier tendencies and emergence of a new one. On the other hand, pulsation relates to the function of breath, sensory faculty, or movement of external objects. Now, going back to the interdependence of change and time/space, Sāṅkhya philosophy in this light is very clear that only motion in the form of pulsation is spatio-temporal, and change in the sense of transformation that relates to the alteration of guṇas is not conceived of as determined in terms of space and time. This transformation then is the intrinsic nature of what exists as an entity, and on this ground, we can make a claim that when it comes to addressing entities in the world, Sāṅkhya is inherently dynamic. From the Sāṅkhya perspective, both these motions are possible due to rajas, the inherent guṇa of prakṛti that makes dynamism possible. So rajas is then not just dynamism, but also the potency that makes dynamism possible. In that sense, temporality and change both are woven into the very fabric of rajas.

This all leads to the conclusion that everything of the manifest world changes, or everything is in flux, in dynamism, whether potentially or in expressed forms. But there are limits to what change means here: change implies continuity of the base entity while at the same time being an alteration of the manifest guṇas. As a consequence, an entity cannot emerge into its own opposition, for example, light changing into darkness. There is also a categorical difference between the primal cause, prakṛti, and its evolutes: The categories with manifest signs (liṅga) have a cause, are transitory, are not all-permeating, are dynamic, and are dependent on multiple entities. In contrast, the unmanifest or prakṛti has no cause, is not transitory, is all-permeating, and is not dependent upon other entities for its being (SK 10). Accordingly, all entities that manifest have change as their inherent nature. This inherently changing character also incorporates prakṛti. That puruṣa does not undergo change makes it possible to determine change, as from the Sāṅkhyan perspective this change is contrasted against the backdrop of the changeless puruṣa (SK 11).

Just like other philosophers, Sāṅkhya philosophers ground change on the basis of causal relation. However, their causal relation is not grounded in temporality. The dynamism of prakṛti to express itself in the form of mahat, etc., is not a genesis story, nor is it an event that occurred in the past: it is a dynamic constant process by means of which prakṛti keeps unfolding into new forms. What underlies this premise is that there is no generic difference, albeit having difference in particulars, in each mode of manifestation. This is what makes the relation of cause and effect possible, or there would be no homogeneity between cause and effect that are temporally diachronic.

5. The Teleology of Change

While the interaction between puruṣa and prakṛti is explained in terms of liberation, Sāṅkhya philosophy rests on the assumption that puruṣa as such is never bound and what is bound and what liberates is prakṛti alone (SK 69). Since prakṛti is not conscious, it lacks intentionality to effect change. If a teleology of prakṛti is to be justified, it is ‘self-less’ and blind, and if this is sought in puruṣa, it is only due to misconception. As a consequence, when engaging the Sāṅkhya paradigm, change happens and is not made. We come to this conclusion by synthesizing the discussion above, and reach the following conclusions:

I.

Composites are made of three guṇas,

II.

Composites change,

III.

Composites lack their own teleology.

While the earlier points are evident, the last point is derived on the basis of the statement that

‘Composites are for the sake of the others’.

(saṅghātaparārthatvāt … SK 17)

Because sensory faculties lack consciousness,31 their functioning cannot be considered to have their own teleology, whether in grasping their corresponding objects; in the functioning of the mind or the antaḥ-karaṇa to have various desires, to have the ego-sense, or to make judgment; or for three guṇas to mutually support with their inherent tendencies of illumination, activation, and delimitation (prakāśa-pravṛtti-niyama). This means that the entities that lack consciousness cannot determine their function as ‘theirs’ and ‘for themselves,’ and so, even though there are functions in categories that are not intrinsically conscious, their functioning cannot be ‘for themselves,’ for the same reason that they lack the sense of ‘self.’

If change is inherent to prakṛti, this is confirmed only by the conscious self, puruṣa. Basically, while change is spontaneous, it is not for the benefit of what is changing. The argument from the perspective of evolution is that complexity that evolves in matter does not adhere to what is changing, but there is an underlying principle, consciousness, as the basis, that is not changing through these modes. SK gives two analogies to illustrate this:

I.

Just as there is spontaneous motivation of milk which in itself is insentient for the sake of nourishing a calf, so also is the motivation of prakṛti for the sake of liberation of puruṣa (SK 57).

II.

Just as people engage in various acts to satisfy their desires, prakṛti engages itself in action for the sake of the liberation of puruṣa (SK 58).

The difference between these two analogies is that, whereas the first underscores blind and spontaneous motivation of inert matter that serves the purpose of the sentient being, the second exemplifies an intentional act where the accomplishment of the act is the very teleology of an act. We eat for nourishment, we walk to reach to a destination, but when we act out of our eagerness to attain something or to avoid the undesirable, the very satisfaction that ensues is its purpose. These two illustrations also reflect an inherent conflict in interpreting prakṛti in classical Sāṅkhya.

This raises a question regarding teleology: is this an emergence of a non-existent entity, where meaning is not intrinsic to being and is an emergent property? For, in that case, it would contradict the Sāṅkhya notion of an effect existing in its material cause (satkārya). YD therefore explains this absence of teleology in terms of not having any manifest purpose, with the example that when people say there is no water in this well, what they mean is, water is not visible (YD in SK 57). The argument is, in absence of a sentient subject, that no determination of teleology is possible in prakṛti and its transformation. But from the Sāṅkhya perspective, even the sentient subject (puruṣa) lacks its own agency, as it is indifferent to action and its results. As a consequence, the issue of teleology becomes challenging to resolve from within the Sāṅkhya paradigm: prakṛti lacks any inherent purpose for the acts it carries out, and puruṣa lacks any motivation, and likewise, any action. Sāṅkhya provides an instinct-based argument for explaining teleology, that the insentient prakṛti acts for the sake of sentient puruṣa, similar to the way the breast milk flows for the nourishment of the calf. Apparently, it is not the actions or desire of the calf that causes milk to flow, but when and if there is a calf, the spontaneous flow of milk occurs (YD in SK 57).

There is an alternative to characterizing the motivation of prakṛti as blind: it is dharma and adharma, or a subject’s vice and virtue that cause prakṛti to transform and act accordingly. For milk that spontaneously flows for a calf, it would be the virtue of the calf to receive milk. Even though one can rely on unforeseeable factors such as virtue to explain the causal relation in these instances, this does not address the fundamental question as to whether blind prakṛti can act on its own without having its own sentience. Replacing prakṛti with new categories such as vice and virtue does not address the question, for vice and virtue on their own are not sentient entities that can have their own teleology. So the argument that dharma and adharma are self-motivated does not respond to the underlying objection; it only replaces prakṛti with something different.

There are deeper problems in accepting that dharma and adharma act on their own, motivating prakṛti to transform and give rise to the manifold. The issue is that dharma and adharma are qualities inherent to intellect (buddhi). The subject that undergoes transformation due to dharma and adharma, or vice and virtue, is not the foundational subject or puruṣa but the phenomenal ego (ahaṅkāra), and the ego, from the Sāṅkhya perspective, is itself a product of intellect. So the primal motivation could have been caused neither by ego nor by dharma and adharma, as they would not have been manifest prior to prakṛti transforming into buddhi. As far as dharma and adharma are concerned, when buddhi is overpowered or propelled by the illuminating factor of sattva, it manifests dharma, and when the very buddhi is overpowered by the delimiting factor of tamas, it manifests adharma (SK 23). For a classical understanding of the scope of dharma, this is a key point, since the Nyāya-Vaiśeṣikas consider dharma, adharma, as well as saṃskāra to be qualities inherent in the self (both the individual subject or jīvātman as well as paramātman or God).32

Yuktidīpikā confirms this concept further:

Virtue and vice do not exist prior to activation of prakṛti, since (they are) dharmas inherent to the intellect and intellect itself is an effect of prakṛti.33

It is only upon puruṣa actualizing the essential self-nature or attaining isolation from prakṛti, that its potencies of prakṛti are actualized.34 Or, if we were to find teleology in prakṛti, it would be determined only after puruṣa actualizes itself, or recognizes itself as distinct from prakṛti. YD illustrates that potencies are confirmed only upon their expression, arguing that “the burning of fire or the cutting of an axe cannot be confirmed in the absence of something to be burnt or something to be cut”.35 From the Sāṅkhya perspective, what prakṛti embodies within itself is not already manifest prior to the manifestation of prakṛti, whether this is manifestation of buddhi and qualities that buddhi possesses. The causal relation in the model of satkārya (where the cause is endowed with properties that are manifest in the effect), makes sense only when we accept that, prior to expression of properties in the effect, those properties remain in the field of indeterminacy, or that their presence or absence can only be confirmed upon their expression.

But what is it that is recognized or removed? From the Sāṅkhya perspective, there never was any mutation on the part of puruṣa, nor is there ever any increase or decrease in puruṣa, since consciousness is its very essence. From the part of prakṛti, even after liberation of one puruṣa, it does not cease to function, as prakṛti keeps functioning, allowing other puruṣas to recognize their true nature. Then, what is achieved is merely a realization, and this realization is possible only on the part of puruṣa, for only the conscious subject is capable of having realization. There is a consequence in the concept of puruṣa’s self-realization, that puruṣa achieves its distinctiveness from prakṛti and isolates itself from the triadic structure of guṇas, also making the case for an actual change in the state of puruṣa. Īśvara-Kṛṣṇa rejects this objection by saying that “this puruṣa, therefore, is never bound. No one is bound, neither is anyone liberated. The prakṛti that rests on many (puruṣas) is what changes, what is bound and what liberates” (SK 62). What this implies is that this entire misconception occurs within prakṛti and is merely superimposed on puruṣa. Otherwise, puruṣa would actually be bound, could be liberated, and therefore subject to change.

Now, returning to change with regard to prakṛti, the concept of abhivyakti can help us explain it further, in that the manifest guṇas are already intrinsically given to prakṛti in seminal form, and they only subsequently become manifest, similar to the blossoming of some plants. This is to say that the concept of change defended here is not that of the category A changing into B, but of A enduring into new forms without being completely altered. The difference between these two notions of change is what underscores the categorical difference between Hindu and Buddhist philosophies. This, however, is not to say that there has never been an overlap between these two systems. If we overlook the marginal difference in reading the same philosophical categories when doing intertextual criticism, we will make the blunder of reading pariṇāma from Sāṅkhya according to Sarvāstivada Abhidharma, or even worse, the Sautrāntika-Yogacara model, and the same error can occur when reading pariṇāma in Buddhist texts along the lines of Sāṅkhya Yoga. As a consequence, we would be reading nirodha in terms of the cessation of mind found in Sāṅkhya-Yoga or impose the idea of the involution of the mind returned to its primal cause as found in Buddhist texts. This would identify a fundamental shift in the ways these schools think of change. This difference is closely addressed in Whicher’s argument of the cessation or transformation of the mind (Whicher 1997). While Patañjali, particularly in the Vyāsa-commentary on the Yogasūtra, does substantially borrow ideas from Ghoṣaka, Vasumitra or Buddhadeva (Maas 2020), we need to keep in mind that the core principle of what it means for something to change is not conflated by the philosophers, whether they are using this category from the Buddhist or the Sāṅkhya-Yoga standpoint.

6. Conclusions

If we equate the dynamism of rajas with change, it would be intrinsic to prakṛti. However, prakṛti is more than change, as it also delimits, suspends, and illuminates change. When we read transformation as inherent dynamism, we are distinguishing it from spatio-temporal change. Even if genetic mutation is read along temporal lines as a gradual progression, the manifestation of prakṛti into its evolutes is not the same, as there never is a time when prakṛti is not expressing itself. We cannot engage the dynamism of prakṛti by interpreting change within spatio-temporal parameters, for space itself is one of the last evolutes and time is determined on the basis of space and spatial entities. What we also glean from the above conversation is that while change lacks its own inherent teleology but facilitates the foundational entity, the changeless base for it is to recognize itself and to liberate itself from having the tendencies of blind mutation upon oneself and impose change within it. If change, inherent to prakṛti, is compared with the motivation of a subject to satisfy her curiosity, the purpose of change is actualized in recognizing change itself, for it is in this recognition that the self actualizes its distinctness from the qualities that are intrinsic to prakṛti but not the self. Along these readings, our zeal or our drive towards something (autsukya), unlike other acts, is not guided by the urge to achieve some results, as the goal of acting due to curiosity is fulfilled merely by realizing something that requires no further action. This also explains the nature of liberation in Sāṅkhya, that no external means other than realization is necessary for liberation. Puruṣa in this sense is not even actually bound, as bondage is also superimposed.

Upon reflection, the Sāṅkhya discourse on pariṇāma addresses consistency as much as it does change. The classical texts repeatedly cite two different examples to describe change: gold and its ornaments, and milk and yoghurt. The change that we see in melting one gold ornament and making a new one describes change in appearance while emphasizing its changeless basis. The second example of milk and yoghurt highlights change in its chemical structure, with some guṇas being subordinate and others coming to primacy. Even then, the triadic structure remains intact and in that sense, pradhāna as such has not altered but is only reconfigured. In essence, no matter the extension of transformation, nothing that exists can ever exceed the primordial triadic structure of guṇas.