Unpacking the word "dharma"

Background context

This is the first blog post I’ve written with the help of an LLM. It wasn’t until today that I felt that LLMs were “good enough” to help edit and provide feedback on complex prose. Using a model for assistance is still pretty clunky though. I can’t wait for an LLM-first text editor.

Here’s my conversation with ChatGPT o1-preview in case it provides you with inspiration for prompting these models - https://chatgpt.com/share/66f960e7-cb3c-8006-9c11-e0cc4718b779.

I took the “final” prose I produced with ChatGPT, and made some light edits to match my taste and voice. I’m excited for the day when we have systems that are much more personalised and can constantly anticipate and learn from such minor edits.

Unpacking the word “dharma”

The word dharma doesn't readily translate into a single English word. We often expect words to have direct  one-to-one mappings between languages, but dharma resists such mappings. Depending on the context, it can mean ethics, duty, truth, righteousness, etc. Its Sanskrit root dhr literally means "to hold," suggesting that dharma is what upholds or sustains the universe's order. So the literal translation of dharma means “holding”.

I've been watching the 1980s TV adaptation of the Mahabharat lately, and it's given me a new appreciation for what dharma truly means. The epic is considered sacred for good reasons - it delves deep into the human condition, exploring moral dilemmas and the consequences of actions across generations. Each time I study it, I walk away with some new insight about my life. I see parallels with the Old Testament where the stories highlight the outcomes of various moral failings. They provide the ingredients for us to wrestle with the nature of morality and ultimately divinity.

Dharma as the Foundation of Reality

Let’s come back to the word “dharma” for a moment. It seems to roughly translate to “holding”. So what could acting dharmically be holding up?

As discussed in previous posts, our personal perception of reality is shaped by the social systems we participate in. There’s a circular relationship between our actions (i.e. karma) and the evolution of said social systems, and the patterns of interaction afforded by this circular relationship. I suspect that there’s a strong differentiation between systems that are oriented towards Life, and those that aren’t. The former end up either implicitly or explicitly finding themselves aligned with what is true, good and beautiful. So in that sense, acting in accordance with dharma means aligning ourselves with the patterns of interaction which uphold the structures of our own personal reality. 

Similarly, when we behave adharmically we risk undermining the very ground we stand on. We risk disrupting the very fabric of the patterns of interaction which support our personal reality. 

One way to view the Mahabharata is that it’s a collection of case-studies demonstrating the far-reaching consequences of our adharmic actions, and the complex relationship of cause and effect.

Throughout the epic, Krishna intervenes to guide the key characters towards dharmic behavior. He’s an avatar of Vishnu who periodically reincarnates into the world when the Earth has been trampled by adharmic patterns. I think of Krishna’s role as the personification of that culture’s innate error-correction machinery to dharmically realign its constituent processes. Similar to Jesus, Krishna instantiates the “best” patterns of interaction that are available across social classes, occupations, peacetime, wartime, and childhood. That is, his actions don’t accumulate any negative karma.

Krishna’s message can’t be simplistically transformed into a specific set of propositions. There’s something deeply embodied about his wisdom that goes beyond possibly contradictory propositions. For example, he teaches that one should act according to duty without attachment to the results, focusing on alignment with the dharma. However, he also challenges the characters from rigidly following their own notions of dharma, by considering the broader consequences of their actions. He consistently acts as a spiritual provocateur, in that he attempts to engender self-reflection and self-inquiry with those he interacts with. He does this either via dialog, or by engineering situations that force such self-reflection.

Or to put it another way, he demonstrates that the dharma can’t be neatly captured into a rigid set of beliefs and propositions. But he simultaneously points out that we can’t neatly dispense with all logic and propositional thought. He consistently points out via his speech and actions that aligning with the dharma is fraught with nuance. It’s a lifelong journey that requires a consistent pursuit of the cultivation of wisdom and non-attachment.

Examples from key characters

A really helpful way to read the Mahabharata is to imagine oneself as each of the characters, at different moments in our lives. For example, there have been times where I’ve engaged in patterns of interaction that were captured by Bhishma, Yudhishthira, Dhritarashtra, Duryodhan, etc. The Mahabharata’s richness comes from unveiling an extremely wide tapestry of patterns of interaction. It comes from showing us all the different ways we can self-deceive as well as all the different opportunities we have to act virtuously. 

Bhishma

Bhishma is a fascinating character. During the start of the epic, he’s introduced as a moral and dharmic exemplar. However, as the story progresses, we see that his rigid adherence to his own sense of dharma and lack of self-reflection leads to compromising the very kingdom he sought to protect.

Due to a complicated set of circumstances, Bhishma takes a vow of celibacy because he thinks it’ll make his father happy. His actions are rooted in his personal understanding of the dharma of duty to his father. However, we must note that he makes this decision somewhat unilaterally. He fails to consider his and his father’s broader duties to the state. One could argue that he sacrifices the “greater good” of Hastinapur to satisfy his own sense of familial loyalty. His celibacy has deep implications on the throne’s chain of succession, and plays a key role in the events that lead up to the war on Kurukshetra.

We can see his rigidity time and time again. At each escalation of the conflict between the Pandavas and Kauravas, he finds himself riven with internal conflict. On the one hand, he decides to side with Dhritarashtra and Duryodhan because he made a vow to his father to “protect the throne”. On the other hand, he can clearly see that Duryodhan is evil, and that the Pandavas are aligned with the dharma. Despite the cognizance that he’s on the “wrong side of history”, he feels compelled to rigidly follow his vows. Krishna even challenges him on whether his vow should take precedence over the pragmatic reality of its consequences. Ultimately, one could argue that his rigid and inflexible insistence on protecting his vow engenders the very sort of strife it was designed to prevent.

His story reflects the complexities and nuance of dharma, where noble actions can lead to unforeseen consequences. It raises questions of proportionality and spheres of responsibility. For example, was he upholding dharma by upholding his vow, or was he acting adharmically by overlooking his greater duty to the kingdom?

Yudhishthira

Yudhishthira, known for his unwavering commitment to truth and righteousness, faces a critical test during a game of dice with Duryodhan. His strict adherence to his code—accepting the challenge without refusal—leads to disastrous consequences, including the loss of his kingdom and the humiliation of his Draupadi. While his actions reflect societal expectations of honor, they also highlight how rigid interpretation of dharma can be harmful.

However, these trials become catalysts for his personal growth. Through suffering and reflection, Yudhishthira deepens his understanding of dharma, learning that true righteousness requires discernment and adaptability. His journey prompts us to consider whether dharma is a fixed set of rules or a principle that evolves with wisdom.

Dhritarashtra

Dhritarashtra's love for his son Duryodhana blinds him to his kingly duties. His inability to act justly stems from personal attachment, leading to the erosion of justice and order in the kingdom. While his paternal affection is natural, it conflicts with his responsibility as a ruler.

This tension illustrates how personal emotions can cloud judgment, resulting in adharmic actions even when intentions aren't malicious. Dhritarashtra's story emphasizes the importance of balancing personal feelings with broader obligations, showing how neglecting this balance can destabilize society's foundations.

In the Mahabharata, Dhritarashtra is a king of a large kingdom. But we’re all in some sense sovereign of our own local realities. For example, consider the duties of a manager in a professional environment. Or the duties of a parent in a household. The epic shows us that it’s natural and beautiful for us to cultivate personal attachments. But it also provokes us to critically examine the consequences of placing such attachments higher than our broader duties to the metaphorical patch of land that we’ve been asked to be stewards and sovereigns of.

Embracing the complexity of the dharma

The Mahabharata repeatedly shows us that life doesn't conform to our personal notions of fairness. Characters often face situations where outcomes don't match their efforts or intentions. Yet, dharma guides them to act righteously despite these circumstances. The epic encourages letting go of personal expectations, recognizing that the universe operates beyond individual desires. 

Understanding that reality doesn't "owe" us anything challenges our sense of entitlement. It pushes us to focus on our actions and their alignment with dharma, rather than on the results we ultimately achieve. At the same time, it pushes us to examine the results of our actions to deepen our self-reflection, and to consider the motivations of our actions.

Moreover, the epic stresses again and again that aligning to the dharma isn’t one-size-fits-all. Different people have different capacities and opportunities during different moments in their awareness. For example, what might be dharmic for a warrior in the depths of war might differ from a king, a teacher, a farmer, etc. The point is that acting dharmically is deeply contextual and requires the continuous pursuit of the cultivation of wisdom.

Final thoughts

The social milieu that I reside in as a resident of NYC in 2024 is wildly different than when the Mahabharata was first written. However, our fundamental needs and wants implied by our human condition don’t seem to have changed. The various characters of the Mahabharata feel so relatable to me. That very relatability is what gives the text its enduring power. I certainly don’t want my reality to collapse the way it did for Dhritarashtra or Dhuryodhan.

So when I consider the dharma in a modern context, I’m left with the question - in what ways did I bullshit myself today, and what am currently I avoiding facing?