by Sudhir Kakar
De M’Uzan insists that we decipher the hastened death desire: ‘In fact, the dying person engages, under the terms of what I imagine like a kind of knowing of the species, in an ultimate relational experience. Whereas the bonds which attach him to the others are about to be finally severed, he is paradoxically raised by a powerful and somehow passionate movement.’ The ultimate relational experience engaged by the dying person is paradoxical: ‘Although the dying person’s links to others are about to be untied, he/she overinvests objects, as a last attempt to assimilate unresolved issues’ (Des Rosiers, 1999). Des Rosiers considers life as ‘between two deaths’: During the ‘first death’ (Leclaire, 1975; Racamier, 1992), during analysis or finally during the travail du trépas, the ‘wonderful baby’ is mourned. The dying process ‘can be seen as an attempt at an ultimate completion of the shift from narcissistic investment to object investment’ (Des Rosiers, 1999).
True consolation cannot be provided by dead things but by living objects. Symbolically charged things may, however, convey this relational bond and restoration:
‘The function of gravestones, memorial monuments, pictures and photographs and works of art symbolically representing the lost person derive their consoling function from the assurance that the dead person is still out there, somewhere, in the external world’ (Kernberg 2010: 614).
True and trustful consolation connects the individual and the archetypal mourning, deuil originaire (Racamier 1992). This archetypal layer is originally represented to us by the mother as first incarnation of world and Self (Neumann 1955) and transcends the narrow borders of our individual ego. The intensity of mourning corresponds, as a matter of fact, to the intensity of loving attachment bonds. Paradoxically, a secure ‘inner working model’ does not entail a ‘clinging’ continuity of bonds, but an adaptive mentalizing capacity, corresponding to early experiences of coping with separation. What is true on the individual level also applies to the level of collective memory: Not the compulsive repetition of grief-signs but the work of memory transforms and heals bereaving experiences.
When we revive the infantile depressive position we do not only revive an individual experience but also a collective one:
The manic-depressive and the person who fails in the work of mourning … have this in common, that they have been unable in early childhood to establish their internal ‘good’ objects and to feel secure in their inner world. They have never really overcome the infantile depressive position. In normal mourning, however, the early depressive position, which has become revived through the loss of the loved object, becomes modified again, and is overcome by methods similar to those used by the ego in childhood. The individual is reinstating his actually lost loved object; but he is also at the same time re-establishing inside himself his first loved objects—ultimately the ‘good’ parents—whom, when the actual loss occurred, he felt in danger of losing as well. It is by reinstating inside himself the ‘good’ parents as well as the recently lost person, and by rebuilding his inner world, which was disintegrated and in danger, that he overcomes his grief, regains security, and achieves true harmony and peace (Klein 1940/1994: 120).
Volkan’s studies show that freezing of mourning processes may occur at a national or collective level. Collective ‘linking objects’ are as much an obstacle to accomplished mourning as a starting point for re-grieving and new libido, new capacity of love.
As in the classical Greek tragedy, true consolation does not consist in a narcissistic identification with my personal ego-ideal. True cathartic consolation is depersonalized, links my destiny to the hero’s destiny who incarnates the human condition. This ‘desire-cathexis’, according to Freud part of the mourning process, connects personal and archetypal mourning.
We have seen, that mourning deals with an ‘absent presence’ which may be expressed in religious symbols. Christianity is, according to Michel de Certeau, ‘a lost-body discourse’: ‘Christianity founded a discourse (the evangelical Logos) which offers “consolation” for the loss of the body’ (Certeau 1986: 112). In the context of his study about Jean-Joseph Surin, a 17th century mystic, Certeau affirms that the name (Jesus Christ) is a substitute for his lost body, for the empty tomb. The name is the origin of another body, the church, and of the biblical text (Certeau 1979). The experience of Pentecost requires the lost body’s absence, the original spiritual experience. The early Christian texts, especially St John and St Paul, call the Holy Spirit ‘parakletos’: helper, advocate, consoler, comforter (facing an absence).
What is beyond death may be called ‘O’ according to Bion:
‘O’ … stands for the absolute truth in and of any object; it is assumed that this cannot be known by any human being … its presence can be recognized and felt, but it cannot be known. It is [however] possible to be at one with it.
That it exists is an essential postulate of science, but it cannot be scientifically discovered. No psychoanalytic discovery is possible without recognition of its existence, at-one-ment with it and evolution.
The religious mystics have probably approximated most closely to expression of experience of it … Its existence is as essential to science as to religion. Conversely, the scientific approach is as essential to religion as it is to science. (Bion 1970/1975: 30).
What Bion calls ‘Faith-in-O’ is a non-religious scientific state of mind, in spite of his religious allusions, especially to Christian and Jewish mystics. At-one-ment is Bion’s expression of a symbol which produces reconciliation between presence and absence.
Celebration of Death:
A Jain Tradition of Liberating the Soul by Fasting Oneself to Death (Santhara)
Katharina Poggendorf-Kakar
The Theology of Santhara
Introduction
Ritual death through fasting (santhara/sallekhana) is a method highly respected in the Jain tradition and on the rise among Jain believers in India today. But why does someone voluntarily choose the affirmation of death, rather than life, if that person is neither depressed nor insane? And why is santhara not only prevalent among Jain ascetics, but also among its laity? How does this celebration of death differ from suicide? Or—to put it another way—why is suicide strongly opposed, even condemned, in the Jain tradition, while fasting oneself to death is the most respected way of dying and not considered to be suicide?
I would like to investigate these questions from a Jain point of view and illuminate the theme of death that is central to the Jain ontology.
Let me start with the meaning of the expression santhara or sallekhana.
The Meaning of Santhara and Sallekhana
‘Santhara’ or ‘sallekhana’1 are used as synonyms and are two expressions referring to the same ritual in Jainism: fasting oneself to death.
Santhara literally means ‘a bed of hay or grass’2, because when the time of death approaches, the aspirant is brought down from his bed and sits or lies down on a bed of hay—in modern India a mat or mattress.
The second term, sallekhana, is a combination of two words: sal (meaning ‘properly’) and lekhana (meaning ‘thinning out’),3 thus, ‘thinning out the body’ through fasting.4
This brings us right to the core of the practice: Santhara or sallekhana does not only refer to ‘thinning out’ the body by fasting, but also to ‘thinning out’ the passions, strictly speaking the five senses (seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling and feeling), and four passions, the latter being anger, deceit, greed and pride. To ‘thin out the passions’ will help the aspirant to purify his soul by shedding karmas. I will come back to the importance of ‘shedding karmas’ later. In general, fasting as a penance or religious vow helps to conquer the body and sacrifice attachments, including sacrificing one’s own body by taking the vow of santhara.
A person who practises santhara will do this with full knowledge and intent, and ideally has time to reflect upon his life and atone for his sins during the ritualized fasting process, so he can die in the most peaceful state of mind and in full consc
iousness.
But what do people, who are taking such a drastic step, believe in? Why is fasting in general and santhara in particular such a central theme in the Jain soteriology, and why is santhara considered to be the ultimate act of non-violence? To approach these questions, I must first give a brief outline of the basic framework of Jain asceticism.
Jainism
The ‘backdrop’ of Jainism is a vivid culture of asceticism that flourished in the Ganges basin from around the 8th or the 7th century bce, of which Jainism is just one component.5 Unlike Buddhism, which originated in the same geographical area in North-East India and roughly in the same time period (more than 25 00 years ago), Jainism is hardly known in the West.6
Jainism can be characterized as a religion of radical asceticism, based on the principle of non-violence (ahimsa), for which it is probably best known. Although it has a unique cultural heritage and a vast religious body—a religious system of metaphysics, philosophy, epistemology, mythology, ethics, ritual, etc.—I will focus here only on some aspects that are of importance to understand the relevance of santhara.
In general, Jainism can be described as a community of ‘listeners’ (the laity) and ‘teachers’ (the ascetics), to borrow a term from Michael Carrithers and Caroline Humphrey.7 The birth of Jain asceticism is linked to the social injustices of its time—namely the misuse of power by the Brahmanical priests, exploiting their position as intermediaries between the gods and the people. Jainism undermined the Brahmanical power by denying the existence of God and propagating self-liberation through introspection and meditation, instead of material sacrifices and superstitious beliefs.
Although Jainism rejects the existence of God, it does believe in a pluralistic system of souls (jiva)8. This combination of ‘no god(s) but souls’ gave rise to a striking and most interesting soteriology, which is—as we will see later—the backbone of the practice of fasting oneself to death.
Without God there is no redemption through a higher power. Thus the ultimate goal has to be self-realization, which can only be achieved through one’s own efforts. Says one nun: ‘The path to salvation is not linear, it is circular … wherever you are standing you can slip into the centre and the centre is your exit road.’9
Such efforts to liberate the soul will involve infinite cycles of death and rebirth and hence refer to the insignificance of a single life: Death is just a gate to enter into a new life or—to use a Jain metaphor—one merely changes a set of worn-out clothes (the body) with a new one, until one eventually reaches moksha—liberation.10
This non-theistic religion has a flourishing and prosperous community of laypeople,11 which looks after the material needs of their ascetic order, a community of wandering monks and nuns of different orders,12 who voluntarily embrace a radical practice of non-violence (ahimsa) and physical penance.13 Jain ascetic practices can be regarded as the most austere of the modern era—radical and honest in their orientation and implementation in daily life. In its absoluteness to implement non-violence in daily life, ahimsa has inspired great leaders such as Mahatma Gandhi, who, for example, speaks in his autobiography about the well-known Jain ascetic Raichandra,14 who besides Tolstoy and Ruskin, influenced him deeply.15
Two important aids on this ascetic path of self-realization are (a) meditation and (b) physical penances such as fasting. Meditation (to control the mind) and fasting (to control the body) are the connecting link to the invisible but eternal soul in Jainism and a necessity to liberate it from the bondages of the karmas. Let me elaborate, to understand the rationale behind this idea.
The Self or Soul in Jainism
Indian religions such as Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism share a kind of ‘family resemblance’. They share the belief that it will take many, almost infinite life cycles, to achieve salvation (moksha). All three agree that one needs to acquire complete knowledge about the nature of the ‘self’, in order to fully understand this reality. However, the idea of the nature of the self or soul differs. While Buddhists do not believe in a soul at all (anatmavada),16 Hindus believe in a soul (atman), which eventually merges with the universal principle (brahman), once moksha (liberation) has been achieved. Jainism, in contrast, does not believe in the principle of the merging of souls with a universal principle (or God), since they do not believe in a God.17 Instead, Jainism has an astonishing and unique concept of ‘multiple souls’ which exist externally.18 Self or soul in Jainism is expressed by terms such as jiva, atman, but also prani, bhuta, sattva, vijna, veda, ceta, jeta, etc.19 In Jain belief, the universe is populated with an infinite number of immortal20 individual souls, including the souls of water-beings (within the water-particles), air-beings (wind), etc.21 They are all alike, only their karma-bodies differ. (I will come back to the karma-body in relation to santhara later.) The space one moves in is thus already inhabited with innumerable trapped souls, an indication why the principle of not-harming (ahimsa) is of such importance in the Jain doctrine: utmost care has to be taken to avoid the killing of living beings and protect them.
In their theory of ‘multiple souls’ the soul or self undergoes constant transformations within its worldly existence. This means that one form changes into another, while, within these infinite transformations, the intrinsic nature of the soul is preserved.
Transformations stop and the soul is liberated only when the conditions of motion and rest (dharma and adharma) are suspended. To illustrate this: Jain scholars use the picture of a swimming fish: just as water helps the movement of a fish by its mere presence (water does not generate the motion, but makes it possible), the soul (jiva) is ‘moved’ by dharma and ‘rested’ by adharma. In other words, the fish (i.e. soul) has the capacity to move, but water helps in its movement. Once the fish (i.e. soul) neither moves nor rests, the cycle of birth and rebirth stops and the soul continues to exist in and through its pure state (or real nature), which is omnipresence.
To come back to the idea of the self: in India, the self that is addressed in meditation or ‘self-inspection’ is another self than the individual identity or ‘I’ as it is looked upon in the modern West, because in Jainism—as well as in other Indian religions that have their roots in the Upanishadic philosophy22—the self is not a personal, autobiographical self. It is rather a guide and ‘knower’, omnipresent in its true state and the enjoyer of the fruit of its actions (karma).23 In other words, the soul or self is the churner and the churned, it is the knower and the known. Or, as one of my interview partners remarked, it is the ‘mute spectator’. Because one’s own knowledge about the self (which consists of doubts, etc.) is itself the self, Jain scholars argue that the self or soul can be directly perceived (thus it exists).24 Only penances, such as fasting in combination with ‘self-inspection’ (meditation), lead to detachment from the passions and the karma-body, which delude the true nature of the self. Thus, in Jainism, a shortcut to liberation is fierce asceticism and non-violence, its weapon fasting—and its most vigorous weapon fasting oneself to death (santhara) by ‘thinning out the body and the passions’.
This is a profoundly different way of imagining the self and its liberation. If we are willing to shift our perception to this differently organized self or soul, we will understand that the practice of santhara—from a Jain perspective—is not regarded as a form of suicide, but the ultimate step to the liberation of an ‘advanced soul’25 which is still trapped in samsara—the worldly entanglements. I will return to the question of santhara versus suicide later.
Let me first outline with a few strokes the interdependency of mind and body as tools for liberating the soul. I will start with a brief summary of the idea of karma, which, in Jain philosophy, permeates soul, mind and body.
The Idea of Karma in Jainism in Relation to Santhara
Jainism has a vast literature on the study of karma, which already indicates its importance in Jain ontology.26 To put it simply, karma is a theory of cause and effect through action—or, as it is expressed in popular culture of the West, ‘What
goes around comes around’. Jainism differentiates between karma-in-existence (satta), which is karma earned in previous lives and karma-in-bonding (bandha), which is karma earned in our present life (which will be realized in the future). The Jain notion of karma is unique, because—other than in Buddhism and Hinduism—karma is believed to be a substance. Further, Jainism distinguishes between eight different forms or qualities of karma, causing different effects in a human being.27 The notion of karma being a substance is of interest here: karma is considered to be dynamic, consisting of high-energy particles of subtle matter, which has the ability to envelop the soul. Though karma-particles can permeate and delude the soul, they cannot destroy its essential nature (which is omniscience). The inflow of karmic particles into the self or soul through activities (mental and physical) can be compared with the flowing of water into a boat when it has a hole in it.28 The karmic matter has to be burned or scrubbed off the soul, to gain a clear perception of the ultimate reality. This can only be done by one’s own efforts, since there is no divine grace. Only when the karmas are nullified will the soul be liberated. The major tools to burn the heap of karmas are fasting and meditating. The aim is the separation of the self or soul from the body. To relate the interaction of soul, karma and body to the practice of santhara, we must have a look at how body and mind are substantially linked in Jain thought.
Mind and Body as Interdependent Tools for Self-Realization
The Three-Body Theory
In Jainism, our visible, physical body (in Jainism audaric body) is connected through lesya to a ‘subtle body’, called ‘tejas body’.29 Lesya means waves or colour in the body that produce, for example, feelings.30 This indicates that the tejas body is invisible. The tejas body has the function to manage the body systems (to keep us healthy) and to support, provide and control the physical body through prana (breath). The third (also invisible) body is the so-called ‘karma-body’, also connected through lesya to the physical body and the soul.31 The karma-body can be understood as the ‘coded record of our deeds’ (or, to illustrate this, as a ‘spiritual DNA’ of our deeds and their impacts on our life). The three bodies (physical-, tejas-, and karma-body) are considered to be different from the soul, but at the same time they are the manifest and essential features of the soul in this (samsaric) world.32 Of these three bodies, the karma-and tejas body remain with the soul after death (constituting the new body at birth), while the physical body disintegrates. In order to free the soul from its ‘subtle’ karma-body, the soul or self needs to be purified.33 This is done most efficiently with the help of meditation and fasting by using the physical body as an instrument.