Indian thinkers distinguish between literal and nonliteral meaningearly in their history. They do so within different intellectualdisciplines (śāstra-s), each broadly philosophical,but with varying emphases. Within the grammatical discipline,Yāska’sSemantic Explanation (Nirukta),an early (perhaps 6th century to 3rd centuryBCE) etymological treatise recognizes the difference between ordinary(laukika) and metaphorical language (upamā).This text, possibly pre-dating the renowned Sanskrit grammarianPāṇini (ca 4th century BCE), employsetymological analysis in order to ascertain the meanings of unfamiliarterms used in the Vedas, a collection of texts including religioushymns, poetry, and rituals. In portions of the Vedas calledUpaniṣads, widely recognized as proto-philosophical, the limitsof language are made explicit: ordinary speech cannot characterizeultimate reality, though figurative language can hint at it. Theseearly texts focus on topics which would give rise to threeintellectual disciplines: Grammar, Philosophy, and Aesthetics.(Capital letters distinguish the schools of thought from their subjectmatter.)
Two of the three disciplines, Grammar and Philosophy, are identifiableby their relationship to early “root” texts which form thebasis of later commentarial reflection. Within Grammar, theaforementioned Yāska, as well as Pāṇini,Patañjali (ca 2nd century BCE), and Bhartṛhari(ca 5th century CE), are a few of the most crucial thinkerswhose reflections—on the structure of Sanskrit in particular,and by way of Sanskrit, language in general—informedphilosophical reflection on meaning. For instance,Pāṇini’s analysis of the morphology, syntax, andsemantics of Sanskrit, in hisEight Chapters(Aṣṭādhyāyī) continues to be citedby philosophers a thousand years later. The literal/nonliteraldistinction is a topic as well for the various philosophical schools,each one known as adarśana, roughly a“viewpoint.” Both those who accept the Vedas asauthoritative and those who do not address the distinction in thecontext of testimony and theories of reference. Among the former Vedicthinkers, this article primarily treats the Nyāya andMīmāṃsā philosophical traditions, and of theVeda-denying, the Buddhists and the Jainas. Finally, the traditionhere called Aesthetics (alaṃkāra) is primarilyfocused on the aesthetics of poetry and drama—especially thecourtly poetry known askāvya. It encompasses topicsstudied in rhetoric, poetics, and aesthetics.Alaṃkāra, despite meaning“embellishment” or “ornamentation,” (inreference to figures of speech), studies the psychology of utterances,their ensuing emotional states in audiences, and their logical orsemantic structures. Until the highly influentialLight onSuggestion (Dhvanyāloka) of Ānandavardhana (ca9th century CE), aesthetic theory was primarily, though notexclusively, focused on taxonomies of figuration, but afterĀnandavardhana, it drew on philosophical work, in particularMīmāṃsā, to theorize about meaning itself.
What follows focuses on the conceptual space for Indian theorizingabout literal and nonliteral meaning in each of these three textualtraditions. Since the article’s structure is topical rather thanhistorical, a chronology of major figures is appended to help orientreaders. The focus of the article is roughly 200 CE to 1300 CE, oftencharacterized as the Classical Period of Indian philosophy.
Before delving into the various disputes in Indian philosophy overwhat is commonly termed “literal meaning,” let us firstidentify the cluster of concepts and corresponding terms Indianphilosophers use in their analysis of meaning. The Sanskrit term for“meaning,”artha, has a semantic range thatincludes also “object,” “wealth,” and“goal.” It can be used both for external referents ofwords as well as meanings “in the head,” although the termfor occurrent mental states is frequentlyjñāna,usually translated as “cognition” or“awareness.” Both words and sentences are said to havemeanings, although in what manner they have them, and how word- andsentence-meanings interrelate are subjects of debate.
Whether in the form of words or sentences, language hascapacities—it can refer to things, cause mental cognitions,impel action, prompt emotional states, and so on. That such an abilityexists is accepted by everyone, although thinkers enumerate thelinguistic capacities differently and also identify different resultsfor them. In terms of outcomes, the meaning which results from themost fundamental linguistic capacity of the word is said to be“principal” (mukhya) or “denoted”(abhidhā). This meaning is sometimes defined in terms ofits being understood immediately after speech, by hearers. (The extentto which the phenomenology of language comprehension guidesdistinctions about meaning is addressed further below.) For somephilosophers, from the cognition that this meaning causes, anotherlinguistic capacity can subsequently operate, given certainconditions, to generate a new, “secondary” meaning. Thisfurther meaning is sometimes carved into two varieties: indication(lakṣaṇā) and qualitative expression(gauṇavṛtti), something like metonymy andmetaphor respectively, although this is to generalize overdistinctions important especially in Aesthetics. Two other capacitiesare sometimes adduced: purport (tātparya) and suggestion(dhvani), which we will examine more closely below.Initially, let us characterize the first as something likespeaker’s intention and the second as encompassing phenomenasuch as connotations and implicatures which the other capacitiesputatively cannot explain. In English scholarship, the first two ofthese four capacities are referred to as “primary” and“secondary,” and this article will follow thisconvention.
Whatever the number of capacities, they can be characterizedfunctionally; in fact, the term “function”(vyāpāra) or “operation”(vṛtti) is often used in place of the word for capacitymore generally. In attempts to enumerate the capacities, philosophersconsider questions such as what the basis of a linguistic functionmight be, and whether they are one-to-one or one-to-many functions(Ganeri 2006). Discussion of linguistic functions is important forunderstanding epistemology, a topic of interest primarily toPhilosophy in contrast to Grammar and Aesthetics (see the entry onepistemology in classical Indian philosophy). These thinkers focus on how testimonial uses of language areauthoritative ways of knowing (pramāṇa), whetherin ordinary discourse or religious discourse such as the Vedas or theBuddha’s speech. For one example, consider Nyāya(“Reasoning”). In the Nyāya root text,Nyāyasūtra (NS), attributed to AkṣapādaGautama (ca 200 CE), speech is defined as the assertion of anauthoritative person (NS 1.1.7). Since the cognitions resulting fromtestimony are an important basis for acting, Nyāya philosophersare concerned with what hearers understand from speech, in particular,from nouns (NS 2.2.56). It is in this context that they take up therelationship between primary and secondary meaning, and the basis forfigurative language use. Specifically, they are concerned with whetherthe principal referent of a noun is—a generic property, aparticular thing, or some combination (their preferred view).
Aesthetic thinkers, especially beginning with Ānandavardhana (ca9th century CE), focus on distinctions between thecapacities of language. Ānandavardhana himself is primarilyconcerned to defend the existence of a new linguistic capacity,suggestion (on which seesection 3 below). With illustrations drawn from poetry, drama, and the epicMahābhārata, he argues that phonemes, words,sentences, and entire discourse units can suggest subtle meanings,associated with an aestheticized emotion or “flavor”(rasa). It is up to later philosophers of aesthetics toexplain the status of suggestion with regard to the ordinarycategories of linguistic capacities. Some, like MukulaBhaṭṭa (ca 9th to 10th century CE)give a reductionist account on which it is equivalent to indication,whereas others, like Bhaṭṭa Nāyaka (ca 900 CE) denythat it is a linguistic capacity at all, but argue, rather, that it ispsychological. Aesthetic arguments for and against the variouslinguistic capacities draw on Nyāya as well asMīmāṃsā philosophical texts.
Definitions of meaning often appeal to phenomenology, the way in whicha cognition seems to arise from hearing a word or sentence. This focuson the psychology of language use is found in all three disciplines.For example, the Mīmāṃsā(“Hermeneutics”) philosopher KumārilaBhaṭṭa (ca 7th century CE, see entry onKumārila) writes in hisExposition on Ritual Practice(Tantravārttika, hereafter TV) that, like a face, theprimary meaning is perceived first, before anything else, such assecondary meaning (TV 3.2.1). (The Sanskrit word for a faceismukha, etymologically related tomukhya, the termfor primary meaning.) The Grammarian Bhartṛhari argues in hisTreatise on Sentences and Words(Vākyapadīya) that division of sentences into wordsand phonemes is artificial. This is in part based his observation thathearers experience meaning as a unified whole. He claims that whatconveys meaning is asphoṭa, or “burst,”which is partless and different from the sequence of sounds composinga sentence (seesection 4.3 and Matilal (1990: 84ff) for discussion about how precisely tocharacterizesphoṭa in relationship to meaning.)
Aesthetic theorists focus on the psychology of the poet and thehearer, in part to understand the relationship between ordinarylanguage and poetic language, but also to distinguish among thevarieties of poetic utterances. Among the psychological principleswidely accepted by Indian thinkers is that ordinary conventionalmeanings are stronger than analytically-determined ones (Raja 1969).So the termpaṅka-ja has constituent parts whichtogether mean “mud-born” but conventionally it refers tothe lotus, and the latter meaning would come to a hearer’s mindfirst. Aesthetic philosopher Mukula Bhaṭṭa argues in hisFundamentals of the Communicative Function(Abhidhāvṛttamātṛkā) that somewords become so conventionalized that their status as secondarymeaning is unavailable to the speaker, who takes herself to bespeaking literally (McCrea 2008, Keating 2019).
However, there is a limit to the role that reflection on psychologyplays in the analysis of meaning. For earlyMīmāṃsā philosophers, only Sanskrit terms havegenuine expressive capacities.This conclusion is not due to aninvestigation of the psychology of non-Sanskrit speakers, but theprinciple of parsimony. It is explanatorily better to posit afundamental language, where word and meaning are fixed in one-to-onecorrespondence, which has been corrupted by mispronunciation over time(seeTV 1.3.24ff). So, hearing a foreign word likegavi, people understand its meaning, “cow,”through its similarity with the correct Sanskrit word(gauḥ), whether or not they are aware of the process.This view is challenged by other philosophers, such asDharmakīrti in hisVādanyāya (Norms ofDebate).
Reflection on language in Indian philosophy, for the Brahminical,Veda-accepting traditions at least, begins and ends with the Sanskritlanguage, in what has been termed “the Sanskritcosmopolis” (Pollock 2006). It is not merely that Sanskrit isthe vehicle for reflection on language, but the Sanskrit languageitself is a target of inquiry. Patañjali explains the reasonsfor this in hisGreat Commentary(Mahābhāṣya), a commentary onKātyāyana’s 3rd century BCE commentary onPāṇini’sEight Chapters. These reasons arelargely centered on the preservation and correct performance of Vedicrituals. Along with these pragmatic aims, there comes the belief in aspecial metaphysical and epistemic status for Sanskrit—it hasnatural (autpattika, intrinsic) connections to its referents,which other languages lack; thus, at least in the context of theVedas, it can give us infallible knowledge about the world, withoutthe corruption of fallible human intermediaries. This conception isnot shared by all orthoprax thinkers, however, as Nyāyaphilosophers argue for the conventionality of language (NS2.1.55).
Traditions which reject Vedic authority also reject the primacy ofSanskrit, largely preferring to write in Pāli and Prakrit. At acertain point, however, and for unknown reasons, Buddhist thinkerssuch as Nāgārjuna begin to write in Sanskrit (Kelly 1996).Regardless of which language they employ, Buddhists reject the notionof an inherent connection between the Sanskrit language andreality—indeed, they argue that no language has such aconnection—arguing as early on as the famousThe Questionsof King Milinda (Milindapañhā) that languageis conventional. Still, the fact that Naiyāyikas and Buddhistsagree on the conventional nature of language shows that the religiousprominence of Sanskrit does not necessarily entail specificphilosophical commitments about its referential capacities. However,those who take on the assumption of an innate connection betweenSanskrit word and referent then had explanatory burdens, such as howto explain linguistic innovation within Sanskrit and the referentialcapacities of non-Sanskrit languages.
One of the most central distinctions in Indian philosophy of languageis that between primary and secondary meaning. While this could becharacterized as the distinction between “literal” and“nonliteral” meaning, for some philosophers, word meaningsthat seem intuitively literal are classified as being secondary. Forinstance, the word “cow” in the sentence “A cow isto be led out to pasture” would, according toMīmāṃsā philosophers following Kumārila, betaken as an instance of secondary meaning, for reasons discussedbelow. Further, since the literal/nonliteral distinction in Westernphilosophy of language is vexed (see the distinction“literal/nonliteral” in the entry onpragmatics), this entry henceforth avoids such terminology.
Most classical Indian thinkers (some Buddhists being an importantexception, seesection 4.1) understand word meaning, orpadārtha, to refer toobjects in the world, and to do so directly. For thesethinkers—Nyāya and Vaiśeṣika,Mīmāṃsā—the referential function isprimary. However, despite broad agreement about the basic referentialfunction of words, they disagree about what its objects are. One suchdispute, which has implications for the primary/secondary distinction,is over the relationship between words and universals. Kumārilaargues that the primary referent of words is a universal.Kumārila’s reasoning is that, without words denoting theuniversal property belonging to, for example, all cows, there wouldnot be a permanent (nitya) relationship between word andreferent. For if “cow” means a specific cow, Bessie, whenBessie goes out of existence, the word lacks denotation(ŚV). Further, the Vedic injunction, “A cow is tobe tied up,” can be followed in numerous rituals—but if aspecific cow were intended, it could be followed only once. (Thisargument is found in early Grammatical thought as well, see below.)Still, despite the fact that all Mīmāṃsakas accept therequirement of fixity of word and referent, they do not all accept theuniversal-denotation view. Some agree with another philosopher,roughly contemporaneous with Kumārila, Prabhākara (hisfollowers are known as “Prābhākaras,” with thefirst long “ā” equivalent to the English“-an” as in “Fregean”). They reject theuniversal-denotation view in connection with their view of sentencemeaning (seesections 4.3 and 5.1).
In contrast, in the NS and its commentaries, Nyāya philosophersargue that words refer to universals, forms, and individual things.They point out that universals are never instantiated withoutparticular things, and so the universal alone cannot be the referent.But likewise, since universals are identified by form (a cow isrecognized as having cowhood by its particular structure), we mustalso take it into account. Replying to Mīmāṃsāphilosophers who defend and refine the universals-denotation view,along with other opponents who defend individual- and form-only views,Nyāya philosophers defend and refine the context-dependent view.Vātsyāyana, for example, in theCommentary onNyāya (Nyāyabhāṣya, hereafter NBh),argues for an epistemic point, that “It is not known which amongthese is the object or meaning of the word, or whether all of themmight be meant” (NBh 2.2.59; Dasti and Phillips 2017). He takeson arguments from interlocutors who argue that only the individual orthe universal is meant by words. Vātsyāyana observes that,to take the example of “cow” again, one never encounters abare particular (individual). Rather, the individual cow is alwaysfound to be qualified by the universal.Ceteris paribus foruniversals, which do not exist apart from individuals. So it ispossible that both universal and particular are meant together, alongwith form or shape (ākṛti), though in a structuredrelationship where one is predominant and the others are subsidiary,the particular structure depending on context. See Dasti 2020 for asummary of early Nyāya arguments.
Grammarians also consider the question of word reference inrelationship to the primary and secondary distinction. Yāska, theearly etymologist, proposes different underlying Sanskrit derivationsto account for the varying meanings of a shared form (in English,compare the word form “bass” referring to the musicalinstrument and fish). Visigalli (2023) argues that his theorizingshows attention to the role of synecdoche and metaphoric transfer inaccounting for different meanings, though earlier scholars likeScharfe (1977) have argued that he is inattentive to these possibleexplanations. Pāṇini takes at least a partial position onthe question, claiming that if words only refer to particulars, thensomeone who ties up one cow for a sacrifice, in response to a Vediccommand, would be in error if they, in a later ritual, tie up anothercow, as the command could only refer to a single specific animal(Eight Chapters 1.2.64). After him, Patañjali, in theGreat Commentary, refers to two earlier grammarians (whosework is not independently available), Vyāḍi andVājapyāyana, who differ on this topic. Vyāḍiargues that words primarily refer to particulars andVājapyāyana claims they refer to universals.Patañjali splits the difference, claiming that both aspects arepart of word-meaning, but which one is primary may vary (see Deshpande2003; VM; and Matilal 1971.) Matilal illustrates the moves in thedebate with the example of a compound, “a brave-man”(Sanskrit:vīra-puruṣaḥ).Vājapyāyana would argue that if “brave” refersto the attribute of braveness, and “man” to the attributeof manhood, then these two referents can be related together in anunderlying, unifying substratum(samānādhikaraṇa). But if his opponent,Vyāḍi, were correct, there would be no way to make sense ofthe compound, since both terms would refer to the same individual, andthus there would be repetition. However, by making use of thedistinction between expressed meaning and the implied ground for themeaning, Vyāḍi could reply: yes, “brave”strictly refers to a brave man, but this word is used because of theman’s braveness, whereas the other word is used because of theman’s being a man.
Whether the primary word-function results in a particular oruniversal, philosophers understand its resultant cognition as a basisfor unhesitating action. Word meaning is treated in the context ofepistemology and the topic of verbal testimony. The two sets ofphilosophers above, Mīmāṃsakas and Naiyāyikas,both agree that verbal testimony is a way of knowing. However, forNyāya philosophers, testimony is authoritative because of thespeaker’s characteristics while Mīmāṃsakasemphasize the innately authoritative nature of statements, regardlessof speaker, at at least when it comes to Vedic sentences. While theybelieve that sentences (vākya) are truth-bearers, andnot individual words, since sentences are composed of words,Nyāya and Mīmāṃsā philosophers focus on theinvariable contributions of words to sentences—their primarymeanings. This emphasis, we will see, is not shared by everyone, asthe grammarian Bhartṛhari rejects any ultimate metaphysicaldistinction between words and sentences, arguing that such divisionsare provisional and arbitrary, even if useful in some contexts.
In what follows, we will classify any kind of derivative meaning,whether it be metaphor, metonymy, irony, hyperbole, punning, etc., as“secondary.” Again, we are in the realm of word-meanings,although there is discussion of sentence-level secondary meaning,primarily in Mīmāṃsā, Vedānta, andAlaṁkāra. While the task of precisely carving up varietiesof secondary meaning was frequently left to philosophers working onaesthetics, other philosophers also took an interest in this question.Many stock examples of secondary meaning are shared among the textualtraditions, although it is not until much later, in the seventeenthcentury, that Indian linguistic analysis becomes robustlyinterdisciplinary, in the work of Navya-Nyāya (see Bronner 2002).There are various ways to classify secondary meaning: it may be basedon the logical relationship between primary and secondary meaning, onthe semantic distance between them, or on the role of speakerintention.
For instance, Mukula Bhaṭṭa, the aforementionedphilosopher of aesthetics, distinguishes between secondary meaningthat is qualitative and secondary meaning that is free from qualities.The qualitative includes metaphorical cases such as “The personis an ox,” where the stubbornness of the person and the ox areunderstood to be shared qualities. In contrast, cases like “Thevillage is on the Ganges” are typical of those that are freefrom qualities. Here, the word “bank” is understood so asto avoid the interpretation that the village is floating on the riveritself—but there are no properties shared between the villageand the Ganges (or the bank). In point of fact, Mukula argues that aspeaker may intend different secondary meanings with the sameutterance type, since another reason someone might utter the sentenceis to communicate that the village and the Ganges do sharequalities—the holiness of the Ganges river could be attributedto the village due to proximity. In this way, the Ganges sentencecould exemplify a different utterance, one where there is“semantic imbuing” of the qualities of the river to thebank (Keating 2019:55, 117–126). Thus whether a speaker intendsor does not intend a secondary meaning becomes relevant to itscharacterization. Finally, both the qualitative and quality-freevarieties may differ in terms of how closely related the primary andsecondary meanings are. Mukula describes highly conventional languageuse as cases of “absorption”—for instance, using theterm “ruler” for to someone who is not from the rulingclass (so not strictly a ruler), but who performs the functions aruler does (such as protecting of people). In contrast, metaphors suchas “The person is an ox” are not absorption, butsuperimposition, since some difference is understood. (See Keating2019, Cuneo 2020, and McCrea 2008 for further discussion of Mukula andĀnandavardhana on these topics.)
All of these varieties of secondary meaning require three conditions.First, there must be an obstacle in the primary meaning of the words.Second, there must some relationship—of which kind, morebelow—between the primary and secondary meaning. Third, theremust be a warrant for the secondary meaning, such as a motivation onthe speaker’s part or some accepted conventional sense. To takea stock example, “Feed the sticks,” which means“Feed the brahmins holding the sticks,” word“sticks” refers to something which is inanimate and whichcannot be fed. Thus, the first condition is met—an obstacle towhat is called “semantic fit” (yogyatā)which is necessary for a unified sentence. Second, there is arelationship of association between brāhmin priests andsticks—they carry walking sticks. Association is not the onlypossible relationship between primary and secondary meaning, but it isone, and it fulfills the second condition. Finally, a speaker usingthis phrase would be trading on a conventionalized use, and thus meetsthe third condition, of warrant.
While this three-fold set of conditions is commonly accepted, givendifferent analyses of primary word-meaning, the boundary betweenprimary and secondary meaning will be drawn differently. For instance,Bhāṭṭa Mīmāṃsakas, who take theprimary word-meaning to be a universal, find cases of secondarymeaning more pervasive than Nyāya philosophers, for whomword-meaning in the primary sense is more flexible. Given the command,“A cow is to be tied up,” the correct thing to do is tofind some single cow to fasten to a post. However,Mīmāṃsakas such as Kumārila argue that theprimary meaning of “cow” in the command iscowhood,which cannot be fastened to a post. Thusthere is an obstacle to the semantic fit of the sentence. To resolvethis difficulty, Kumārila invokes the secondary meaning functionknown as indication (lakṣaṇā), on which seeMcCrea 2020. In TV 1.3.10, he argues that indication causes hearers tounderstand that an individual cow is meant. Hearers understand thisfrom the knowledge that “cow” meanscowhood,that individual cows are qualified bycowhood,and yet that the sentence is uttered forthe purpose of fulfilling sacrificial aims. Thus the relationshipbetween the primary and secondary meanings here is inherence (auniversal inheres in an individual), and the speaker aims to pick outa particular cow.
One of the central categories of secondary meaning is those meaningswhich have similarities with the primary meaning. For instance,Kumārila takes qualitative expression(gauṇavṛtti), figures based on similarities, tobe one of the two major types of secondary meaning, where indication(lakṣaṇā) is a catch-all category forfigures based on any other kind of relationship. The figure of speechwhich rhetorical traditions tracing back to ancient Greece call“metaphor” would fall under qualitative expression,although Indian thinkers generally focus on the logical structureunderlying figures rather than a syntactic structure by which metaphoris often characterized (Gerow 1971). Kumārila discusses thecommon example “Devadatta is a lion,” saying that whenpeople hear the utterance, they find the word “lion” to beinexplicable as referring to Devadatta, and therefore conclude thatthe term must be used figuratively. However, while some thinkers woulddescribe metaphors as involving a superimposition of lion onDevadatta, Kumārila explicitly rejects this analysis, saying thatall that is meant is that there are similar properties that the twohave, such as bravery. Otherwise, superimposition would mean there isconfusion about the genuine difference between people and lions.
One might object that the three examples just given: “Feed thesticks,” “A cow is to be tied up,” and“Devadatta is a lion” do not all have the same kind ofobstacle. Philosophers, in the Aesthetic discipline and elsewhere,work to make the nature of this obstacle precise. While initially theemphasis is on the semantic connection within the sentence itself, forNyāya and Mīmāṃsā both, by the time ofMaṇḍana Miśra (ca seventh century CE) andVācaspati Miśra (ca tenth century CE), the failure is takento be wider, including problems with the larger context. In the ninthcentury work of Mukula Bhaṭṭa, such a widening is apparentas he distinguishes between multiple features of context which mayrequire a word to be taken in a secondary sense: a speaker, sentence,time, place, and circumstance. Sometimes there is a clash between aspeaker and a sentence meaning, as in the case taken from courtly lovepoetry—a common source of linguistic examples—where ayoung woman utters words, “I go alone to the forest along theriverbank” to a neighbor. She is to be understood as conveyingthe opposite (she is not going alone) to her neighbor, but intendingher husband to overhear and to believe she is telling the truth. Sincewe know facts (through the poetic context or genre) about thewoman’s personal life, Mukula argues that the sentence cannot betaken to mean the literal truth.
An important phenomenon in Indian poetry, double meaning(śleṣa), garnered the attention of philosophers ofaesthetics and, to a lesser extent, philosophers and grammarians. Atits most basic level, the figure involves using a single word in twoor more different senses. It is akin to “punning” butwithout the connotation of triviality that often accompanies puns,hence the term “bitextuality” (Bronner 2010). In fact,according to Rudraṭa, in hisOrnaments of Poetry(Kāvyālaṅkāra, ca 855 CE), bitextualityis the perfect figure of speech (Gerow 1977). The phenomenon inSanskrit was not limited to a word or two, here and there, but entirecompositions were written which admit of two different meanings. Oneof the most prominent examples is of poems which, read one way tellthe story of theRāmāyaṇa, and read anotherway, narrate theMahābhārata. Examples aredifficult to translate into English, since they rely onparticularities of Sanskrit: word breaks which are frequently joinedtogether, the ubiquity of compounds, and the fact of phonemictransformation at phonetic boundaries (saṃdhi) whichcan be reconstructed in multiple ways. For instance,dāsyasītyuktvā can be disambiguated asdāsy asīty uktvā (saying, “you are myslave”) ordāsyasīty uktvā (saying [tomyself] “you will give!”) (Bronner 2010: xvii).
This particular linguistic device is not merely a figurative ornament,but is at the center of a major intellectual and literary movement.Poetic lexicons exist which contain stipulated meanings for syllables.These assist poets in creating bitextual compositions. Poeticcommentaries tease out the multiplicities inherent in poems, whetheror not they are intended by the author. Bronner (2010) identifiesseveral ways in which the existence of bitextuality was a stickingpoint for theorists trying to give an account of word-meaning and therelationship between meaning and aesthetics. First, there is thedifficulty of identifying a particular logical structure underpinningbitextuality. Second, there is the question of whetherbitextuality’s effects are due to word-meaning or to the soundsof words. Finally, there is the problem of the psychology ofbitextuality.
One reason that bitextuality resists explanation is that the multiple“registers” (ways of reading the text), such as the storyof theRāmāyaṇa and theMahābhārata mentioned above, are not merely twodistinct sets of unrelated meanings. Rather, similes or metaphorsfrequently connect the readings. For instance,Dhanañjaya’s “Poem of Two Targets,” throughsetting theRāmāyaṇa and theMahābhārata “side-by-side” allows thereader to contrast the protagonists of the two epics (Bronner 2010:110). Further, even where such relationships are not obvious, giventhe important principle that nonliteral utterances must be supportedby some warrant, whether conventional or due to speaker aims, mostSanskrit thinkers argued that no one would utter a sentence with twomeanings that are unrelated. Mahima Bhaṭṭa(11th century CE), in hisAnalysis of“Manifestation” (Vyaktiviveka), argues thatparanomasia, as a kind of meaning, must be coherent in the sense ofhaving semantic fit, even if, as a kind of secondary meaning, thereare cues which lead the reader to go beyond the strictly literalsense. However, unlike cases of metaphor, where there is an obstacleto semantic fit, as in “Devadatta is a lion,” bitextualityrequires that there be (at least) two sets of coherent meanings whichhave semantic fit and also that there be a way to bring both meaningstogether. Further, since the trigger for bitextuality cannot be afailure of semantic fit, there must be some cue other than just themere possibility of reading a sentence in two ways (McCrea 2008).Ānandavardhana, however, who comes two centuries before MahimaBhaṭṭa, argues that there may be bitextual poems in whichtwo sets of meanings do not cause a further metaphor or simile(Bronner 2010: 204; McCrea 2008: 434).
Ānandavardhana argues for a new linguistic capacity, suggestion(dhvani orvyañjanā), which he believesaccounts for important phenomena not included within existing theoriesof secondary meaning. His commentator, Abhinavagupta, elaborates onthis theory, though in a way which goes beyondĀnandavardhana’s original text, and he also writes his ownindependent treatise on the topic. As a result of these two thinkers(authoring theLight on Suggestion andThe Eye,respectively), a new debate opens. It centers on whether existingtheories of language can account for the subtleties of meaning foundin literature, such as courtly poetry, drama, and great epics. Thosewho agree that suggestion must be accepted discuss what kinds ofsuggested meaning ought to be adduced; those who reject suggestiongenerally try to show that for each putative category of suggestedmeaning, an equivalent explanation can be given, throughalready-accepted processes such as indication or inferentialreasoning. This discussion is not much taken up in philosophicalcircles in the Classical period. For instance, the Nyāyaphilosopher Jayanta Bhaṭṭa (ca ninth century CE) has astray remark disparaging suggestion in hisFlower Garland ofLogic (Nyāyamañjarī), but he does notengage substantively with arguments against it.
Ānandavardhana proceeds by citing passages which are generallyaccepted to have various kinds of poetic effects, and then analyzinghow these effects are attained by suggestion. He divides the contentof what is suggested into implied meanings, implied figures, andaesthetic moods (rasa). He also distinguishes among varietiesof suggested meaning according to other criteria such as thespeaker’s intention, how rapidly the hearer recovers thesuggested content, and whether expressions or phonemes are the basisfor what is suggested. When suggestion is a way of conveying therasa, the dominant aesthetic mood described or intimatedwithin a poem, it is calledrasa-dhvani. Ānandavardhanatries to give an account of when it is that suggestion causes poeticbeauty, and argues thatrasa is the proper aim of all poetry.It is important to mark that, for Ānandavardhana,rasais found within the text, and not the reader. The reader simply comesto have a cognition of the text’srasa. Thus it iseasily understood as meaning, and not a reader’s emotionalstate. After Abhinavagupta’s commentary on Ānandavardhana,the emphasis shifts onto the reader’s emotive experience, andhow to understandrasa in relation to other kinds of meaningbecomes more difficult. Even though many things may be suggested(figures of speech, facts), the ultimate aim ofdhvani orsuggestion in the poetic context is to suggestrasa.
Take the case of “The village is on the Ganges.” Here,Ānandavardhana argues that suggestion operates after both primaryand secondary meaning. What is suggested is the purity of the villagewhich is on the bank of the holy Ganges river. Note, though, that hedoes not think that both primary and secondary meaning are alwaysnecessary for suggestion. For instance, the word “Ganges”itself could suggest purity without being in a metaphorical orotherwise figurative context (here, it is metonymical for the bank).Ānandavardhana also contrasts the function of suggestion with theprimary meaning function. As for the latter, he says the relationshipbetween the composition of words in a sentence and its primary meaningis a “natural relation.” The sense in which theword–referent relation is “natural” is that it isfixed. A word’s primary meaning is that meaning which iscognized in every single instance the word is employed. Suggestion, incontrast, is an “artificial relation” since it is ameaning that is not given by its natural word, and the relationshipbetween suggested meaning and a suggestive word is notone–to–one.
On Ānandavardhana’s view, the suggested meaning is afurther step beyond the secondary meaning, but is not alwaysunderstood through what is secondarily meant. For example, what issuggested in this case is understood through the primary meaning of“Ganges,” since it is the river and not the bank which isassociated with suggested properties (specified as its purity andcoolness, according to later thinkers). The crucial aspect ofĀnandavardhana’s view is that while secondary meaningrequires a failure of semantic fit, suggestion does not. Ahearer’s understanding of “on the Ganges” as meaning“on the bank of the Ganges” is necessary in order for thesentence not to cause a cognition of a village as floating upon theGanges. In contrast, the suggested sense does not rectify any apparentsemantic incompatibility in the literal meaning of the sentence.
While one can present a definitive number of types of suggestion(Abhinavagupta says there are thirty-five), Ānandavardhanahimself says there are an endless number of combinations if we takeinto account all of the facts involved in creating suggested meaning.Whether this should be taken literally or as a rhetorical flourish,the point is that Ānandavardhana does not view his analysis as acomplete taxonomy of suggested meaning. In keeping with this spirit,only a few of the important divisions are discussed below.
Ānandavardhana subdivides suggestion in two ways based on twokinds of intentions a speaker has with regard to the expression sheutters. This is consistent with his view that underlying all cases ofsuggestion there is a purpose (prayojana) the speaker has inchoosing a particular expression. In particular, these intentions aredefined in terms of the speaker’s attitude towards the primarymeaning of an expression. First, a speaker may intend to convey theprimary meaning plus some suggested meaning. Second, she may notintend to convey the primary meaning, but only have an intention toconvey a suggested meaning.
As an example of the first type, Ānandavardhana cites love poetrywritten by the Buddhist philosopher Dharmakīrti (ca6th to 7th century CE, see the entry onDharmakīrti). The poem describes images of birds and fruit which are meant to betaken literally. However, these images are juxtaposed in a way whichsuggests an additional sense consistent with the romantic tone of thepoem. There is no explicit comparison between the images, but thecomparison is suggested. This kind of suggestion is something like thephenomenon in Ezra Pound’s famous imagist poem, “In aStation of a Metro”
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough. (Pound 1913)
There is no linguisticmetaphor in the sense of an explicitpredication between two things, such as faces and petals. However, thereader understands an implicit comparisons between the two images.Thus there is both primary and suggested meaning. Other times,Ānandavardhana says, the speaker intends only to convey asuggested meaning, so the primary meaning may be entirely replaced orset aside in some manner. For example, in this passage from theRāmāyaṇa, the phrase “blinded” isnot being used in a primary sense, but in a suggestive manner:
The sun has stolen our affection for the moon,
whose circle is now dull with frost
and like a mirror blinded by breath,
shines no more. (DL: 209)
Since a mirror cannot, strictly speaking, be made blind—breathmerely fogs it—this is a case where the speaker intends what issuggested to replace the primary meaning.
While the previous categories are distinguished by the speaker’saims, the two other categories are distinguished by the hearer’sexperience. Ānandavardhana says that when hearers come tounderstand the suggested meaning of a poem, they can do so eitherinstantaneously or else after a “reverberation”—someexperienced temporal gap between recovering the literal meaning andrecovering the suggested meaning. The suggested content characterizedby reverberation may be similar to what contemporary philosophers talkabout in terms of the metaphorical “felt gap” betweenliteral and metaphorical meanings in particular (e.g., Camp &Reimer 2008). However, it also includes the idea of a temporal gapbetween understanding the literal and suggested meaning. Thephenomenological observation can, and should, be distinguished from aclaim about content recovery. Ānandavardhana does not appeal tothe phenomenology of suggested meanings as evidence that they arerecovered in a certain way, though such a move was certainly availableto him, as we have seen insection 1.2.
Ānandavardhana categorizes a case of bitextuality(śleṣa) as involving reverberation, as bothmeanings do not occur to the reader simultaneously. Further hedescribes this as a case where the sentence (rather than individualwords) suggests a second meaning, which comes like a“reverberation” or some time after the first. Thissupports the idea that reverberation is about processing time, ratherthan (or in addition to) a felt tension. Elsewhere,Ānandavardhana points out that for many kinds of suggestion,hearers do not have a “reverberation” or awareness of agap between the primary meaning and what is suggested. Abhinavaguptagives an analogy to explain cases where there is no suchreverberation. He says that when someone has taken to heart therelationship between smoke and fire, she will be able to reasoninferentially to the existence of fire simply on the perceptual basisof smoke. There need not be any awareness of inferential processes onthe part of the thinker.
Ānandavardhana distinguishes in a number of other ways betweenvarieties of suggestion. He identifies the basis of suggestion: wordmeanings, sentence meanings, discourse unit meanings, and even thesounds of individual phonemes can all give rise to suggested meaning.A poem’s entire “meaning,” that is, a comparisonwhich may not be explicit in the poem, but is suggested throughout,can itself be the basis for a suggestedrasa, such as love orheroism. At a more local level, individual phonemes within a poem mayalso suggest an aesthetic mood, through being sonorous or harsh, etc.These distinctions within suggested meaning underscore the need forcaution in drawing equivalence between suggestion and analyticphilosophical concepts, such as implicature (see the entry onimplicature) which is roughly analogous to, but not co-extensive with,Ānandavardhana’sdhvani, since Ānandavardhanadenies that suggestion arises through inferential reasoning.
Although Ānandavardhana’s theory of suggested meaning wasinfluential for many philosophers of aesthetics in the years followinghisLight on Suggestion, not everyone accepted the new model.There were two ways of rejecting suggestion: reducing it to anon-linguistic capacity or reducing it to an already-existinglinguistic capacity—primary or secondary meaning. The firststrategy is followed, in different ways, by BhaṭṭaNāyaka and Mahima Bhaṭṭa, whereas the second isfollowed by Mukula Bhaṭṭa and members of thePrābhākara school of Mīmāṃsā.
In hisMirror of the Heart, Bhaṭṭa Nāyaka(ca. 900 CE) argues that Ānandavardhana is mistaken to think ofrasa as something like linguistic meaning, and insteadfocuses on the emotional response of the reader (Pollock 2016, Ollett2020). His argument is thatrasa cannot be the kind of thingwhich is the meaning of a sentence—it is an experiential eventwhich is caused by sentences. Drawing on Mīmāṃsāhermeneutics, which emphasizes how Vedic language causes hearers tofollow injunctions, Bhaṭṭa Nāyaka proposes amulti-part process in which the primary meaning function operates in anormal manner, but subsequently there is what Pollock calls an“aesthetic text-event” that unifies the disparate parts ofa poem through a generalizing power (bhāvakatva, De 1960and Pollock 2016). The audience has the ability to enjoy (Pollock:“experientialize”) the result through a particularaesthetic capability (bhojakatva), and the result is atranscendent, rapturous experience ofrasa. Thoughunderstanding Nāyaka’s account is difficult, given sometextual problems, Ollett 2020 argues that his idea of“actualizing” multiple parts of a text has a parallel withthe process by which we understand a unified sentence meaning from theparts of a sentence. Whilerasa is not a linguistic meaningthe way that a sentence meaning is, on this understanding, it, likesentence meaning, is something unified understood in dependence onmultiple constituent parts.
Mahima Bhaṭṭa (ca. 1025 CE) does not considerrasa anything more than an emotion which has been stabilizedinto the object of a particular kind of aesthetic enjoyment. HisAnalysis of “Manifestation” argues that, sincethe characters in a poem are unreal, the emotions they areexperiencing are also unreal, and must be inferred or imputed to them.All of the talk of “manifesting”rasa is itself afigure of speech, on Mahima Bhaṭṭa’s view. Inaddition, he argues that any putative “secondary meaning”such as indication (lakṣaṇā) is alsoinferred. Primary meaning plays an evidentiary role in inference basedon rules of pervasion (vyāpti) between the primarymeaning and secondary or suggested meaning. This position iscriticized by later thinkers, since the relationship between primarymeaning and these other meanings does not easily admit ofuniversalizable regularities, and suggested meanings are oftendefeasible (see the entry onlogic in classical Indian philosophy for discussion of inference).
Like Bhaṭṭa Nāyaka and Mahima Bhaṭṭa,Mukula Bhaṭṭa agrees with Ānandavardhana that thereare poetic phenomena that require explanation. He argues that thesemeanings arise from the existing category of secondary meaning,indication (lakṣaṇā), rather than the thirdlinguistic capacity of suggested meaning. HisFundamentals of theCommunicative Function, through analysis of many of the stockexamples of suggestion in theLight on Suggestion, identifiesthe necessary features which trigger indication: an obstacle in theprimary meaning, a relationship between the primary and indicatedmeaning, and a motive or conventional basis for the indicated meaning.Mukula argues that it is possible to have cases of indicated meaningwhich do not completely replace the primary meaning. Mukula’swork comes to be widely influential through its incorporation into theIllumination of Poetry (Kāvyaprakāśa)written by later philosopher of aesthetics Mammaṭa, who excerptsparts of it verbatim (McCrea 2008).
Rather than explain suggested meaning as part of secondary meaning,the Prābhākara school of Mīmāṃsāprefers to incorporate it into primary meaning. Their position, whichis discussed in more detail below, criticizes theBhāṭṭa distinction between primary and secondarymeaning. On their view, word meanings do not—as per theBhāṭṭa Mīmāṃsā view—have afixed primary meaning regardless of sentence context. Instead, themeaning of a word will vary depending on its relationship with otherwords in a given sentence. Thus a word can carry a putatively“suggested” meaning simply through force of context.Ānandavardhana himself implicitly criticizes this position,arguing that suggested meaning function has a different object, sinceit does not result directly from the word, but from the primarymeaning of the word. For instance, the well-known case of “Avillage is on the Ganges” suggests the purity of thevillage—but this cannot be the primary meaning of the word“Ganges” even contextually. It is an additional meaning,conveyed subsequent to the ordinary meaning of “Ganges”(DL).
Not all thinkers accept that there is a genuine difference betweenprimary and secondary meaning. The rejection of this distinctionhappens in several different ways. First, and most radically, onemight flatten the distinction to the point at which all language isequally “nonliteral,” and reject the idea that there is afoundational stratus of meaning. This is the view of some Buddhists,although just how to cash out this idea is a significant question.Second, one might argue that while there is a pragmatic reason todistinguish between primary and secondary meaning, this distinctiondoes not map onto any genuine facts about language or its relationshipwith the world. Loosely, this is the view of GrammarianBhartṛhari, whosesphoṭa or “burst”theory is that words are simply useful heuristics, but not real in anyrobust sense. Finally, one might argue that word-meanings are highlycontext-dependent to the extent that it is not useful to think of asingle “primary” meaning for a word. This is the positionof Prābhākara Mīmāṃsakas who do, however,make room for secondary meaning in a sense.
Buddhism and Jainism, two philosophical traditions in India thatreject the authority of the Vedas, put forward analyses of languagewhich challenge the notion of a distinction between primary andsecondary meaning, at least as drawn in the Vedic-affirming,Brahmanical schools. Significant textual work—as well assecondary scholarship—remains to be done in the area of how bothof these traditions (especially Jainism) understand language, butthere are some clear themes.
Buddhist thinkers are broadly committed to error theories aboutordinary language use. As noted already, early Buddhists, in textssuch asThe Questions of King Milinda(Milindapañhā), argue for a kind ofconventionalism: language which seems to refer to persistent wholeobjects, such as chariots and persons, does not, as such objects aretaken to lack true existence. Later philosophical reflection, such asin theCommentary on the Treasury of Dharma(Abhidharmakośabhāṣya) of Vasubandhu (cafourth to fifth century CE, see the entry onVasubandhu), presents a kind of localfictionalism or reductionism, as the only truly existing things are atomic simpleswhich exist momentarily. Thus, all language is, save for claims aboutultimately real constituent parts, loose speech. Buddhist philosophyof language is famous for its “two truths” doctrine (seethe entry onthe theory of two truths in India), the notion that there is conventional truth and ultimatetruth—but this gets deployed variously among the later schoolssuch as Yogācāra and Madhyamaka (see Siderits 2003 andGarfield 2006).
A commitment to the ubiquitous nature of nonliteral speech is seenexplicitly in Buddhist texts which pick up on the existing categoriesin Grammarian and Aesthetic thought, such as cognitive superimpositionor metaphor (upacāra), and employ them to undermine theorthoprax theories of language which were realist and referential innature (Gold 2007 and Tzohar 2018). For instance, theYogācāra Buddhist Sthiramati, in hisCommentary on theThirty Verses(Triṃśikābhāṣya) (ca sixth centuryCE), cites a common Grammarian definition ofupacāra,noting that use of the term “self” and“things” is an instance of such figurative talk (Tzohar2018). Not only is the self, when talked about in apparently ordinaryways, really being talked about indirectly, but this is so for allwords which, on Sthiramati’s Yogācāra view, refer toan individual’s conscious experience of qualities, and notthings in themselves. For Sthiramati, at least, there is a sense inwhich all language is “metaphorical,” though grounded inthe conscious arising and perishing of experiential events, ratherthan a (putatively) objective external reality.
Another way in which this conventionalism plays out is in thedevelopment of theapoha theory of concepts, which hasimportant implications for how language functions. The termapoha means “exclusion.” This theory firstpresented in the work of fifth to sixth century CE philosopherDiṅnāga (see the entry onDharmakīrti, and the discussion of the theory ofapoha). The theory ofexclusion is meant to explain how we can have conceptual connections(linguistic or otherwise) with the world even though, on this Buddhistview, reality is ultimately a series of unique, momentarily-existing,ineffable particulars. Without universals or qualities, the Buddhistshave a difficulty explaining how talk of a “blue lotus,”for instance, is possible. Their ingenious solution, much debatedafter Diṅnāga, is to propose that we carve up the worldconceptually by negation. Blueness is not a universal, but theexclusion of all non-blue particular things—it is to be“not non-blue.” How this theory works in detail is thesubject of Dharmakīrti’s work (ca sixth to seventh centuryCE) and a whole host of later thinkers, such as Ratnakīrti (caeleventh century CE). The philosopher of aesthetics Bhāmaha (casixth to seventh century CE) criticizesapoha in hisOrnaments of Poetry(Kāvyālaṅkāra), but not with regard toany distinction between primary and secondary meaning. Rather, heargues that the sense of a word is positive, and that onapoha, Buddhists are assigning two capacities towords—exclusion and positive designation—when there isonly one (KB). Mīmāṃsā and Nyāyaphilosophers likewise criticizeapoha extensively on theseand similar grounds.
Buddhist thought also takes up the distinction between kinds ofmeaning in its approach to hermeneutics, with regard to theinterpretation ofsūtra passages, not unlike the way inwhich Vedic hermeneutics both informs and is informed byMīmāṃsā philosophical reflection on language.Buddhist hermeneutics, despite its being positioned“outside” of the orthopraxy, employs lists of figureswhich pre-date the rise of the textual tradition of Sanskrit poetics,in a way which demonstrates that there were links between theGrammarian, Nyāya, Mīmāṃsā, and Buddhisttheories of meaning (Tzohar 2018). A crucial concept in Buddhisthermeneutics, which approaches a distinction between literal andnonliteral, is that ofupāya or “skillfulmeans.” With the assumption that the Buddha speaks bothtruthfully and with an eye towards the abilities of his particularaudience, the notion of “skillful means” allows Buddhisthermeneuticists to explain apparently contradictory elements withinBuddhist texts. As with BhāṭṭaMīmāṃsā use of secondary meaning for Vedicinterpretation, recourse to secondary meaning in the face of apparentcontradiction, skillful means allowed for truth-preservation whileconstraining the interpretive process.
Originating with Mahāvīra, who lives around the same time asSiddhārtha Gautama, the founder of Buddhism (sixth century BCE),Jainism is known for its emphasis on language’s representationallimitations. This is because of its view that reality is multi-faceted(anekāntavāda) and any single description willnecessarily involve some apparent contradiction, due to the fact thatit is incomplete (Balcerowicz 2001). Without relativization to astandpoint (naya), the sentences “o isP” and “o is not-P” arecontradictory. To address this, Jainas propose that there are sevenways to characterize any purported fact, each one preceded by a markerof uncertainty,syāt. Any objecto and itspropertyP can be described as:
This seven-fold schema is found in many Jaina texts, from the earlyworks of Kundakunda (3rd to 6th centuries) up tothe to the importantFlower Garland of ConditionalPredication (Syādvādamañjarī) ofMalliṣeṇa (13th century CE). While some, likePriest (2008), have argued that this seven-fold classification schemelends itself to aparaconsistent (and perhaps alsodialethic) formalization, it need not be, as within the scheme, each of theseven standpoints follows the law of non-contradiction, though withina many-valued truth-system (Ganeri 2002; Schang 2013). On thisinterpretation, the truth of an utterance is relativized to aparticular context, in the sense that each standpoint restricts thecontext, as Balcerowicz argues, through indices such as space, time,convention, and so on (Balcerowicz 2001). (Balcerowicz also questionswhether modern formalization is an eisegetical enterprise, readinginto the text conceptions of axiomatization which were not present;see Balcerowicz 2015.) Minimally, according toSiddharṣigaṇi (ca tenth century CE), one must include inone’s analysis of any given utterance the speaker’sintention and the relevant linguistic connections (Clerbout, Gorisse,& Rahman 2018). The schema, further, is hierarchically ordered, sothat each standpoint includes more indices than the prior, accordingto Malliṣeṇa (Balcerowicz 2001).
Emphasis on speaker’s intention is crucial for Jainas,especially insofar as they hold to a division between two standpoints:the ordinary standpoint (vyavahāranaya) and thetranscendent or ultimate standpoint (niścayanaya,pāramārthikanaya). Ultimately speaking, languagecannot be said to have any inherent communicative power, but rather itfunctions due to the speaker’s authority and position as havingunmediated access to the truth. In fact, the Jainas hold thatscriptures containing the words of Mahāvīra are notefficacious due to the words themselves—a stark contrast to theMīmāṃsā view of an unauthored Veda—but dueto a unique suggestive power as well as the religious purity of thelistener. As a result of these principles, any single utterance issusceptible to a number of different analyses. Flügel (2010)distinguishes between four kinds of analysis in Jaina thinking aboutlanguage:
The existence of normative criteria governing language use, aiming atthe avoidance of harm (ahiṁsā) and thepreservation of truth (satya) can be compared to Griceanconversational maxims, although the intentional flouting of theseprinciples does not lead to conversational implicatures. In fact,Jaina doctrines discourage ambiguity and emphasize precise speech(Flügel 2010).
In their explanation of word-meaning, PrābhākaraMīmāṃsakas emphasize the relationship of words withone another in a token utterance. Śālikanātha (ca.7th century CE), in hisMonograph in Five Chapters(Prakaraṇapañcikā), argues that, to avoidmultiplying denotative capacities for words in different contexts, oneshould posit the ability for words to denote meanings-in-relation.This position is called “denotation of what is related”(anvitābhidhāna) and it is opposed to theBhāṭṭa Mīmāṃsā analysisdiscussed earlier (abhihitānvaya). The principle ofparsimony is central to Prābhākara arguments. On theBhāṭṭa view, there are multiple levels of meaning anda complex process of moving from a word to a word meaning to a unifiedsentence which connects those meanings. Śālikanāthaargues that it would be better to explain the resultant connections(anvaya) among word meanings as being understood directlyfrom the word. The idea that the same operation is responsible forunifying the word meanings into a sentence anticipates, to a degree,Frege’s idea of word meanings as unsaturated entities, althoughŚālikanātha is not thinking in the same ontologicalterms (see the discussion of semantic power and the reduction ofsemantic properties in the entry onanalytic philosophy in the entry on early modern India, and Siderits 1991).
Prābhākara thinkers deny that the meaning of a“cow” is a universal and that indication is necessary toshift the generic referent of the noun to a particular.Śālikanātha argues that while it may be true thatsomething the same is remembered in each case when someone says“cow,” this remnant of memory is not the same thing as aword meaning (PS: 381ff, Ollett 2020b, but see Saxena (2022) for adifferent view). Meaning has to do with the role that a word’scognition plays within a sentence. Further, he argues that a wordconveys the universal and the particular together, since the firstcannot be understood without the second. So, while he agrees with theBhāṭṭas that a series of universals cannot beconnected together in a qualificative relationship, he concludes thatthis is a reason to reject the view that words primarily communicategeneralities (sāmānya), arguing that they mustcommunicate a qualified thing (viśeṣana).
However, Śālikanātha does leave room for thedistinction between primary and secondary meaning in cases like“The village is on the Ganges” and “The boy is alion.” He argues that where the ordinary meaning of words cannotform a connective relationship then there is recourse to secondarymeaning. So in the case of words like “Ganges” and“lion,” the meaning–in–relation which is inconnection with other word meanings is the secondary meaning, not theprimary meaning. Despite this allowance for a distinction, thePrābhākara view is often touted as a radically contextualistapproach. For instance, Abhinavagupta, who lived after the highlyinfluential Śālikanātha, characterizes thePrābhākara position as one on which there is no distinctionbetween primary meaning, secondary meaning, or suggestion. He saysthat their view is that the meaning of the word is simply its finalresult (1.4bThe Eye, DL). He points, however, out that thePrābhākara Mīmāṃsā must acceptdifferent kinds of statements in the Vedas for exegeticalpurposes—some more direct than others—and thus they shouldhave no problem in principle allowing for suggested meaning.
Prābhākaras emphasize three concepts in their account ofword and sentence meaning: expectancy(ākāṅkṣā), cognitive proximity(sannidhi), and semantic fittingness (yogyatā).Depending on the word’s role in a sentence, it will havedifferent expectancies. This expectancy also varies depending on whichword meanings are presented to the subject’s mind as candidatesfor connection—or which meanings have cognitive proximity (thesemay not be words which uttered in sequence, as a connected subject andverb may be separated by a dependent clause). Finally, the goal of asentence is to convey something meaningful, so the word meanings inrelation must work together semantically: a sentence such as“Sprinkle the garden with fire” would fail to havesemantic fittingness. These three criteria determine what themeaning-in-relations are which result in a sentence. Secondary meaningis resorted to when there is no relation possible(anvayānupapatti), such as when the word“village” cannot be related to “on theGanges,” since this expression would lack semantic fittingness.These three concepts are not restricted to Prābhākaras,however, but are discussed and refined in various ways by nearly allof the intellectual traditions treating language (seesection 5.1).
In hisTreatise on Sentences and Words, the grammarianBhartṛhari (ca. 450 CE) takes up the distinction between primaryand secondary meaning in more detail than previous grammarians such asPāṇini and Patañjali. His work is difficult—heis aware of, and engages with, Buddhist, Jaina, andMīmāṃsā views of language, but not in astraightforward dialectical manner, as is the style of many otherIndian thinkers. This causes controversy over his established views(for discussion of which see Cardona 1999). In terms of his positionon the division between primary and secondary meaning, theinterpretive debate centers on the implications of thesphoṭa-theory for the possibility of such adistinction.
In Bhartṛhari’s work, the termsphoṭa,meaning “burst,” refers to the indivisible nature of theutterance—it is a sound which carries meaning, and which cannotbe subdivided into words or particular phonemes. (One might think hereof Wittgenstein’sPhilosophical Investigations, e.g.,1953 [2001]: 191, and the idea of grasping meaning in a“flash”—and indeed, this connection has beenexplored in Bhattacharyya 2002 and elsewhere.) On one prevailingunderstanding ofsphoṭa, Bhartṛhari is committedto a kind of linguistic monism, which not only denies the divisibilityof utterances into grammatical categories, but asserts the identity ofspeech and reality. Thus any apparent distinctions betweencategories—letters, words, semantic powers—are illusory.He uses common examples of illusion in Indian philosophy to underscorethis point: from far away, a large tree may look like an elephant; ata glance, a rope may appear to be a snake. However, these aremisperceptions, as are the putative semantic distinctions we make(Raja 1969).
Jan E. F. Houben, in his translation of the “Exposition on(Semantic) Relationship” (Sambandhasamuddeśa)chapter of theTreatise, which treats figurative languageextensively, argues that Bhartṛhari does distinguish betweenprimary and secondary meaning, but on pragmatic grounds (Houben 1995).Houben thinks that Bhartṛhari is a linguistic perspectivist, inthe sense that his concern is not to argue against any particularphilosophical position, but to show the limits of formal analysisitself. On this view, when Bhartṛhari appeals to the analogywith perceptual illusion, it is merely to dismantle the commitment toa certain theory of reference: that which presupposes words refer toexternal reality. Recently, Tzohar has argued that Bhartṛhariholds a “pan-figurative” account, on which all words“figuratively signify” (Tzohar 2018: 70). On this view,word reference does not require a relationship with externalreferents. In contrast, all language use is “figurative”in the sense that it does not require correspondence. Thisinterpretation incorporates but goes beyond Houben’sperspectivism, drawing out implications for the limits of language inconnecting with reality. Roy Perrett (2023), focusing on therelationship between Bhartṛhari’s metaphysics and epistemology,argues that he is a realist about both word types and word tokens,though word tokens primarily refer to universals and only indirectlyto the substances in which they inhere. Epistemically, however, therelationship is reversed: individuals make universals intelligible(this includes word tokens, which are individuals).
On the linguistic monism view, Bhartṛhari is anticipating laterAdvaita Vedānta monism, on which empirical reality is illusoryand Brahman, without having any genuine properties, is the basis forthis illusion. His linguistic analysis, however, need not rely onthese metaphysical assumptions in order to underscore the centralityof the sentence for meaning. Saying that grammatical categories andstable word-meanings are constructed (kalpita) based ontheoretical needs, is to observe the priority of ordinary use and therole of context for actual communication. The perspectivistinterpretation emphasizes the epistemic elements intheory-construction, understanding the analogical argument fromillusion as less concerned with error than the pragmatic grounds toour judgments.
Different positions on the distinction between primary and secondarymeaning have implications for related philosophical topics. In therealm of philosophy of language, theories of sentence meaning dependon how word meaning is understood. Within philosophy of religion,scriptural hermeneutics is also contingent upon approaches to meaning.Finally, there are normative implications for speaking and producingworks of poetry, given the distinction.
While much of the discussion about primary and secondary meaning iscentered on words, there are significant implications for sentencemeaning. Among those who accept the genuine compositionality ofsentences,contra thesphoṭa theorists above,there are two theories of how words combine in context to convey aunified meaning which differ over the role of secondary meaning.
On the “connection of denoted meanings” view(abhihitānvāya) accepted by BhāṭṭaMīmāṃsakas, words convey their meanings, and then, inconjunction with three conditions, these meanings are related togetherthrough secondary meaning (lakṣaṇā). Thethree conditions mentioned insection 4.3 are expectancy of connections(ākāṅkṣā), semantic fit(yogyatā), and cognitive contiguity(āsatti orsannidhi). Expectancy of connectionsis defined either syntactically or in terms of a hearer’spsychological state of desiring words to fit together. Semantic fit isthe requirement that the sentence makes sense,prima facie,and contiguity is the requirement that words are uttered in atemporally adjacent sequence or that they are closely related in thehearer’s mind. The view that the meaning of a sentence is due tothe secondary signification of words is not necessarily connected toBhāṭṭa view that words denote universals, asVācaspati, in hisDrop of Truth (Tattvabindu),defends this position despite elsewhere subscribing to Nyāyatheories of meaning. Vācaspati argues explicitly that indicationis responsible for the relationship (anvaya) betweenword-meanings and argues that it is commensurate with a Naiyāyikaposition (Sastri 2014; Phillips 2015).
In favor of this view, its defenders observe that there must be somecommon word-meaning among sentences such as “Bring thecow,” “See the cow,” “Bring the sheep,”and “See the sheep” in order for hearers to understandwhat is being communicated. What we learn as language-users, throughtrial and error and association of these various sentences with theworld, is the invariable meaning of the words. Against this“connection of denoted meanings” view,Śālikanātha and other Prābhākaraphilosophers, as discussed earlier, argue that what is remembered onhearing an individual word does not constitute a genuine meaningwithout its being connected to the other words—emphasizing theinferential element of meaning. Their view, the “designation ofmeanings-as-connected” (anvitābhidhāna),rejects the role of secondary meaning as a sentence-unifier.
Jayanta Bhaṭṭa, a Nyāya philosopher, takes up a thirdposition, on which word-purport (tātparya) plays theunifying functional role. This sense oftātparya isdifferent from later uses of the term to mean speaker intention. Histheory of word-purport is accepted by Abhinavagupta who includes it inThe Eye 1.4 among his list of functions(vṛtti-s) of language: the primary, secondary,word-purport, and suggestion (Graheli 2016). For both Jayanta andAbhinavagupta, the idea that the secondary meaning function is alsoresponsible for sentential unity was unacceptable. Abhinavaguptasummarizes the four capacities and their characteristics as
The crucial distinction between the “connection of denotedmeanings” view and the two others is whether the secondarymeaning function has a role to play before the sentence meaning isunderstood. Abhinavagupta explicitly says that it is not possible tohave an obstacle for primary meaning without first understanding thesyntactical connections among words. Thus secondary meaning can onlyoccur after the capacity of purport. He distinguishes betweennonsensical but syntactically acceptable sentences such as“There are a hundred elephants on the tip of my finger”and phrases which are syntactically faulty, “Ten pomegranates,six pancakes” (DL: 1.4b L, page 86).
Finally, Mukula Bhaṭṭa identifies a theory, most likelyhis own, which he calls “the combined view” (Keating2019). It takes secondary meaning to apply both before and aftersentence meaning. His understanding of secondary meaning is broaderthan both Śālikanātha and Abhinavagupta, as it does notalways replace the primary meaning. So it can play the role of purportand can also encompass the function of suggestion. Thus, where thedivision between primary and secondary meaning is made, and howsecondary meaning is characterized has important consequences for allthese views of sentence meaning.
Primary and secondary meaning, and the boundaries between them,figured significantly in discussion over scriptural interpretation.The topic is implicated in general discussions about how to approachhermeneutics, in particular by Mīmāṃsā andVedānta philosophers. Particular doctrinal or philosophicalpositions presented in, for example, the Upaniṣads or the Vedas,are subject to scrutiny based on whether they should be takenliterally or not. The Mīmāṃsā system ofhermeneutics, as Rajendran (2001) and McCrea (2008) have shown,subsequently comes to influence the analysis of poetic meaning.
While he is not a Mīmāṃsaka (he is called asarva-tantra-sva-tantra, someone for whom all systems are hisown), even Vācaspati, in hisDrop of Truth mentionedabove, takes up the question of the impact of theories of secondarymeaning on the interpretation of the Vedas. He is a proponent of theview that indication acts as “glue,” metaphoricallyspeaking, and secures the relationship between word-meanings—butthis might threaten the possibility that the Vedas convey meaningsecondarily, since indication requires appeal to speaker intention tomake sense. This, says his opponent, threatens Vedic authority. WhileVācaspati’s initial dry remark is to say, well, so much forVedic authority, he steps back by postulating that the ordinary use ofelders (vrddhavyavahāra) lets us understand, lacking agenuine person who authors the words. He thus preserves the principlethat Vedic and ordinary language are cut from the same cloth, as bothrequire indication for sentence meaning (Sastri 2014; Phillips2015).
In theThorough Investigation of Truth(Tattvasamīkṣā), a commentary onMaṇḍana Miśra’sThe Demonstration ofBrahman (Brahmasiddhi), Vācaspati argues for thetruth of the Upaniṣadic claim of non-duality between self andreality, against an interlocutor who would interpret theUpaniṣads in a figurative manner. At stake is the role oflanguage in relationship to other sources of knowledge. The opponentobjects to the conflict between sense perception and the putativelyordinary meaning of the Upaniṣads, since this would entail thatsense perception—which delivers knowledge of a world apart fromthe self—is flawed. They argue that, when such conflicts arise,perception should prevail, and a figurative meaning should bepreferred. Vācaspati objects on a number of grounds, first notingthat there must be a relationship between a primary and secondarymeaning (one cannot simply leap to a secondary meaning when it isconvenient). Then he appeals to the principle already described indetail—when it is not possible to interpret the ordinary meaningin a sensible manner, this is the impetus for secondary meaning.Conflict with other knowledge sources is not the catalyst forfigurative interpretation (Vācaspatimiśra, VT:29–32).
In addition to contentful philosophical implications, the distinctionbetween primary and secondary meaning has an impact on how philosophyis done. For instance, NS 1.2.10ff, in outlining the appropriate termsof philosophical debate, defines the flaw of casuistry(vimāṃsa) as misusing words to mislead one’sopponent. There are a number of types of casuistry, one of which isfigurative. Vātsyāyana, in his commentary (NBh 1.2.14),cites one of the stock examples of secondary meaning of the indicativetype: “The stands are shouting.” Here, where the meaningis that people seated on wooden structures are shouting, it would becasuistry to reply, “No, the stands are not shouting, but thepeople are shouting.” This overly literal interlocutor pretendsto misunderstand the speaker’s intention, and makes there to beconflict when there is none. Whether or not this kind of debate flawis an importantly unique kind of casuistry (there is some discussionabout this in the commentaries), Nyāya philosophers emphasizethat verbal hair-splitting without charity towards one’s debateopponent constitutes a condemnable manner of intellectual speech (NS1.2.2, Todeschini 2010).
We have already seen insection 4.2 that Jainas emphasize careful speech using the ordinary, notfigurative, meanings of words. Mīmāṃsā has asimilar emphasis on correct speech, especially in the context of Vedicrituals. The utterances of mantras—parts of the Veda whichaccompany ritual practice—had to be performed precisely in orderto guarantee the efficacy of the procedure (and mispronunciation in aritual context was equal to sinful lying). Thus the study ofgrammatical rules was important, as these included pronunciation andmodification of words to fit a new context (declining nouns into theplural, adjusting utterances to incorporate different deity names, andso forth). Further, grammar was a corrective to ordinary use, which isonly an imperfect a guide to correct interpretation of Vedic words.Distinguishing between commands in the primary sense of words andfigurative language exhortations was also crucial forMīmāṃsā, since the proper interpretation of thelatter was relevant for the performance of the ritual. For example,the exhortation, “The grass-bedding is the ritual patron”(TV 1.4.13) is a case of secondary meaning of the qualitative type(gauṇavṛtti), which praises the central role ofthe ritual patron. Kumārila observes that misunderstanding thismeaning would lead to absurdity, since the grass-bedding (a woven matof grass on which ritual implements are placed) is burned up—andtaking the phrase literally would mean putting an early stop to theritual process if the patron himself were burned (Harikai 2017).
Finally, Aesthetics interweaves normative implications throughout.Poetry is not merely for pleasure, but incorporates moral figures (oneis instructed to be like Rāma, the hero of theRāmāyaṇa, and not like Rāvaṇa, theevil demon) and presupposes an entire moral structure. Abhinavagupta,in his independent works, takes up the theory of suggestion into thephilosophy of Kashmir Śaivism, a tantric tradition which devotesitself to the deity Śiva. For Abhinavagupta,rasa is notmerely an aesthetic phenomenon, but it is a profound sense of unitywith transcendent reality, found in therasa of peacefulness(śānti) which encompasses all others. Still, oneneed not go so far as Abhinavagupta’s work to see the normativedimension in Aesthetics, since even in Ānandavardhana’smore ordinary understanding ofrasa, there are certainemotions which are appropriate to bring into existence, and otherswhich ought to be avoided. What is appropriate is dependent on thecharacter’s social position, gender, and so on. These norms alsoconstrain the interpretive possibilities of suggested meaning,providing a conventional basis for the creative use of language.
See also the supplementary document onNames and Dates of Cited Indian Philosophers.
How to cite this entry. Preview the PDF version of this entry at theFriends of the SEP Society. Look up topics and thinkers related to this entry at the Internet Philosophy Ontology Project (InPhO). Enhanced bibliography for this entryatPhilPapers, with links to its database.
defaults in semantics and pragmatics |Dharmakīrti |Early Modern India, analytic philosophy in |Indian Philosophy (Classical): epistemology |Indian Philosophy (Classical): language and testimony |Indian Philosophy (Classical): logic |Indian Philosophy (Classical): perceptual experience and concepts |Kumārila |meaning, theories of |meaning: of words |metaphor |pragmatics
The author wishes to thank Ben Blumson, Josh Dever, Jeremy Henkel,Ethan Mills, and Timothy Lubin for their helpful comments on drafts ofthis article.
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