Jews and Hindus in Indology

Jews and Hindus in Indology Vishwa Adluri and Joydeep Bagchee Introduction For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision means anything. What counts is a new creation. —Galatians 6:15 Established in 1935 as a haven for European intellectuals fleeing Nazi persecution, The New School for Social Research played a distinguished role in the history of the Jewish diaspora.1 In the postwar years it welcomed many émigré scholars including Hannah Arendt, Hans Jonas, and Reiner Schürmann. Immersed in the critical spirit of the Frankfurt School, professors at our alma mater taught us to question inherited categories of thinking. In our first book, we brought this same spirit to bear on a problem that directly concerned the Jewish experience in World War II: the search for an Aryan identity, which was fashioned primarily by German scholars working in the fields of Sanskrit philology and literature in the nineteenth century. 2 A critical history of their work from the perspective of a philosophical critique of the Enlightenment formed the basis for a turn to Hindu texts, seeking to understand a long-neglected tradition in its irreducible alterity.3 As we studied these texts, the same problem confronted us again and again: the engagement with Hinduism had occurred 1 According to Bessner, “The New School for Social Research’s University in Exile accepted more German and European exiled intellectuals than any other American institution of higher education.” Bessner notes that the university’s then president, Alvin Johnson was responsible for “personally saving more than one hundred EuropeanJewish scholars.” Daniel Bessner, “‘Rather More than One-Third Had No Jewish Blood’: American Progressivism and German-Jewish Cosmopolitanism at the New School for Social Research, 1933–1939,” Religions 3 (2012): 99 and 109. A list of the scholars rescued is available at “The New School History Project” (http://thenewschoolhistory.org/?page_id=280, accessed October 29, 2016), though not broken down by religious affiliation. 2 Vishwa Adluri and Joydeep Bagchee, The Nay Science: A History of German Indology (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). 3 For an accurate insight into the book’s project, see Edward P. Butler, et al., reviews of The Nay Science, International Journal of Dharma Studies 4, no. 10 (2016), http://link.springer.com/article/10.1186/s40613-016-0033-9 (accessed on October 25, 2016), especially the first and second reviews (Edward P. Butler, “Written in a Soul: Notes toward a New (Old) Philology” and John R. Lenz, “From Philology to Philosophy: Plato, Nietzsche, Classics, and The Nay Science”). 1 and was occurring on a ground Jewish intellectuals had already traversed.4 Hinduism was not studied or understood for itself, but ineluctably drawn into Christian apologetics against Judaism.5 The scholar’s relationship to his subject was framed as a conflict between modernity and tradition, between reason and revelation; and the scholar’s role was primarily that of an iconoclastic subversion of tradition, albeit in the name of “criticism,” “universal values,” and “‘enlightened’ modernity.”6 4 See Kugel who notes, “From its inception, this scholarly discipline [biblical studies] was fundamentally a Protestant undertaking, one might even say, a form of Protestant piety,” and adds, “in ways great and small, [it has] still retained much of its particularly Protestant character” James L. Kugel, “Biblical Studies and Jewish Studies,” AJS Newsletter 36 (1986): 22. Schechter describes the “higher criticism” of Protestant biblical critics as a “higher anti-Semitism, which burns the soul though it leaves the body unhurt.” Solomon Schechter, “Higher Criticism—Higher Anti-Semitism,” in Seminary Address and Other Papers (Cincinnati: Ark Publishing, 1915), 36–37. Since then, Jewish scholars including John D. Levenson have formulated a robust response to historical criticism (an overview of the changing circumstances of Jewish scholarship is provided in Alan Cooper, “Biblical Studies and Jewish Studies,” in The Oxford Handbook of Jewish Studies, ed. Martin Goodman [New York: Oxford University Press, 2002], 14–35); the work is only now getting underway for Hinduism. 5 Robert A. Yelle’s brilliant and persuasive article “The Hindu Moses: Christian Polemics Against Jewish Ritual and the Secularization of Hindu Law under Colonialism,” History of Religions 49, no. 2 (2009): 141–71, argues that “the rejection of the ritual elements of dharmaśāstra and the manner in which this rejection [occurred] was informed, conditioned, and endorsed by Christian antinomianism.” “In colonial India, comparisons between Hindus and Jews as well as categories derived from Protestant attitudes toward Jewish ritual coordinated with the marginalization of the ritual aspects of dharmaśāstra, or the forcible secularization of Hindu law” (ibid., 143). Yelle further shows how, “When they were not simply categorized as idolaters, Hindus were often compared with Jews, based upon the surface resemblances of certain ritual observances in the two traditions, both of which included dietary provisions and other rules alien to Christianity. Both traditions supposedly exhibited a propensity for ceremonial minutiae, ridiculous distinctions, and superstitious observances. It was, more especially, the manner in which these traditions combined such rituals with both law and religion that reinforced the comparison” (ibid., 157). This superficial resemblance led to explicit attacks on Hinduism in the writings of missionaries and native reformers as well as orientalists. 6 For testimonials to this effect, see Rudolf von Roth, “Zur Geschichte der Religion,” Theologische Jahrbücher 5 (1846): 346–63; Roth, “On the Morality of the Veda,” trans. William D. Whitney, Journal of the American Oriental Society 3 (1853): 331–47; Roth, “Vorwort,” in Otto Böhtlingk and Rudolf von Roth, Sanskrit-Wörterbuch, vol. 1 (Petersburg: Kaiserlichen Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1855), iii–vi; Theodor Goldstücker, “The Inspired Writings of Hinduism,” The Westminster Review, n.s., 25 (1864): 144–69, reprinted in Literary Remains of the Late Professor Goldstücker, vol. 2 (London: W. H. Allen, 1879), 50–85; Albrecht Weber, “Ueber die Literatur des Sâmaveda,” in Indische Studien. Zeitschrift für die Kunde des indische Alterthums, vol. 1, ed. Albrecht Weber (Berlin: Ferd. Dümmler’s Buchhandlung, 1850), 25–67; Weber, “Brâhmanismus,” in Indische Streifen, vol. 1: Eine Sammlung von bisher in Zeitschriften zerstreuten kleineren Abhandlungen (Berlin: Nicolaische Verlagsbuchhandlung, 1868), 1–8. See also Hermann Oldenberg, “Ueber Sanskritforschung,” Deutsche Rundschau 47 (1886): 386–409 and Oldenberg, “Indische und klassische Philologie: Vortrag, gehalten auf der 48. Versammlung deutscher Philologen und Schulmänner zu Hamburg,” Neue Jahrbücher für das klassische Altertum, Geschichte und deutsche Literatur und für Pädagogik 17 (1906): 1–9, reprinted in Hermann Oldenberg, Kleine Schriften, vol. 2, ed. Klaus L. Janert (Wiesbaden: Fritz Steiner Verlag, 1967), 1515–523. Richard Garbe explicitly contrasted the views of the “good Benares pandit of the old school” with those of his “European coresearchers” and criticized the former for scorning “Occidental method and criticism.” He argued that “whoever begins his education with a pandit is forever lost to science [Wissenschaft].” Richard Garbe, Indische Reiseskizzen (Berlin: 2 It does not require much effort to show that the inspiration for this model of scholarship lay in Christianity’s own vexed relationship to Judaism. The contrast between tradition and modernity in this extreme form only exists in the West. As Arbogast Schmitt shows, what is distinctive about the attitude we call modernity is that it is “an essentially antithetical historical consciousness, that is, a consciousness that is completely opposed to the past. For it, the new emerges only out of overcoming the old, from the break with it, from its dissolution or destruction, out of a reform, a revolution or a turn.”7 It can further be shown with convincing evidence that this relationship is ultimately rooted in the way Christianity conceives of its relationship to Judaism: because Christianity conceives of itself as a “new creation” (καινὴ κτίσις) that reveals the old as old, 8 it understands itself in permanent opposition to Judaism.9 Thus Paul at Romans 7:6 contrasts “the newness of the spirit” with the Gebrüder Paetel, 1889), 86 (emphasis in original). The key passages are all cited and translated in The Nay Science. Jürgen Hanneder and Johannes Bronkhorst provide more recent examples of an uncritical secular Christian millenarianism. Their views are discussed at the end of this article. In contrast, Paul Hacker does not conceal his evangelism in ostensibly secular scholarship as discussed in Joydeep Bagchee and Vishwa Adluri, “The Passion of Paul Hacker: Indology, Orientalism, and Evangelism,” in Transcultural Encounters between Germany and India: Kindred Spirits in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, ed. Joanne Miyang Cho, Eric Kurlander, and Douglas McGetchin (New York: Routledge, 2013), 215–29. 7 Arbogast Schmitt, Modernity and Plato: Two Paradigms of Rationality, trans. Vishwa Adluri (Rochester, NY: Camden House, 2012), 4. 8 The term καινὴ κτίσις is found only twice in the New Testament (at 2 Corinthians 5:17 and Galatians 6:15). However, related terms occur throughout the Gospel and the Epistles. In Mark 2:22, Matthew 9:17, and Luke 5:37–38, Christ speaks of the “new wine” of his ministry, contrasting it with the observances of the Pharisees. Paul speaks of the “newness of life” (Romans 6:4) and uses the related ἀνακαινώσει τοῦ νοός (renewing of the mind) at Romans 12:2 (compare 2 Corinthians 4:16: ἔσω ἡμῶν ἀνακαινοῦται; Colossians 3:10 νέον τὸν ἀνακαινούμενον; in contrast Ephesians 4:23 has ἀνανεοῦσθαι). 2 Peter 3:13 speaks of a “new heaven and a new earth,” doubtless referencing Revelation 21:1, Isaiah 65:17, and Isaiah 66: 22. References to “new covenant” occur in both the Old and New Testaments (see Luke 22:20, 1 Corinthians 11:25, 2 Corinthians 3:6, Galatians 4:21–31, and Hebrews 8:6, 8:8, 8:10, 8:13, 9:15, 10:16, and 12:24). (Several versions, including the textus receptus of 1550 but not the Nestle, also read “new covenant” [καινῆς διαθήκης] at Matthew 26:28 and Mark 14:24). The expression “new man” (καινὸν ἄνθρωπον) is found at Ephesians 2:15, 4:24, and Colossians 3:10 (τὸν νέον). 9 We cannot enter into the question of whether Christianity can be understood independent of Judaism here. Nietzsche thought Christianity emerged from Judaism and could only be understood in relation to the latter. Statements to this effect are found scattered throughout his writings. See The Gay Science §37 (“A Jesus Christ was possible only in a Jewish landscape—I mean one over which the gloomy and sublime thunder clouds of the wrathful Jehovah hovered continually”); Twilight of the Idols, ‘Improving’ Humanity §4 (“Christianity, which has sprung from Jewish roots and can only be understood as a plant that has come from this soil, represents the counter-movement to every morality of breeding, race, or privilege”); and The Antichrist §24 (“Christianity can only be understood on the soil where it grew, — it is not a 3 “oldness of the letter.” 2 Corinthians 5:17, one of two places in the New Testament to use καινὴ κτίσις, emphasizes the aspect of replacement: “Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away. Behold, the new has come!” The unknown author of Hebrews reinforces this supersessionist conclusion when he observes, “In speaking of a new covenant, He has made the first one obsolete; and what is obsolete and aging will soon disappear” (8:13). The Reformation does not transcend this view; it further radicalizes it. A firm advocate of “punitive supersessionism,”10 Luther argued for a wholesale renewal bordering on obliteration of Israel: “The Jews make a point of the name Israel and claim that they alone are Israel and that we are Gentiles. Now this is true so far as the first part of the prophecy and the old covenant of Moses are concerned, though this has long since been fulfilled. But according to the second part of the prophecy and the new covenant, the Jews are no longer Israel, for all things are to be new, and Israel too must become new. Those alone are the true Israel who have accepted the new covenant which was established and counter-movement to the Jewish instinct, it is its natural consequence, a further conclusion drawn from its terrifying logic. In the formula of the redeemer, ‘salvation comes from the Jews’”) and §27 (“Christianity grew up on this sort of false soil, where every nature, every natural value, every reality ran counter to the deepest instincts of the ruling class. [. . .] The ‘holy people’ had kept only the priestly values, priestly words for things; with terrifying logical consistency, they had detached themselves from all other powers on earth, considering them ‘unholy’, ‘worldly’, ‘sinful’; now this people produced a final formula for their instinct, they negated the final form of reality, the ‘holy people’, the ‘chosen people’, Jewish reality itself. It is a first-rate case: the small, rebel movement christened with the name of Jesus of Nazareth is the Jewish instinct once again”). Abed Azzam argues that rather than referring to historical Judaism, Nietzsche’s Judaism is an element of his critique of modernity as a disguised form of Christianity and hence must be understood in the context of “his general philosophical framework.” Abed Azzam, Nietzsche Versus Paul (New York: Columbia University Press, 2015), 26. 10 “Punitive” or “retributive” supersessionism is the view that God punished the Jews for rejecting Jesus as the Messiah by transferring his favor to the Christians, who henceforth are the “chosen people.” Luther was a strong advocate of punitive supersessionism, arguing in On the Jews and Their Lies (1543) that Christians should speak to Jews thus: “Listen, Jew, are you aware that Jerusalem and your sovereignty, together with your temple and priesthood, have been destroyed for over 1,460 years?’ [. . . ] For such ruthless wrath of God is sufficient evidence that they assuredly have erred and gone astray. [. . .] Therefore this work of wrath is proof that the Jews, surely rejected by God, are no longer his people, and neither is he any longer their God.” Apart from the anachronism, Brian Brock astutely points out that Luther “along with all Christianity—had not yet learned that most terrible lesson of modernity: that the subjugation of Israel and the razing of the temple in CE 70 by the Romans was not a proof that God had finally rejected Israel; nor were the centuries of European anti-Semitism, with the climax in the holocaust. On Scripture’s own terms, such survival can only be due to God’s faithfulness to his covenant, preserving a holy remnant from Israel.” Brian Brock, Singing the Ethos of God: On the Place of Christian Ethics in Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2007), 233–34. 4 begun at Jerusalem.”11 Calvin advocated a milder form of supersessionism but nonetheless held that God provided his covenant to the people of Israel only in “a veiled form.” Thus while the former was but “an image and shadow in place of the substance; the New Testament reveals the very substance of truth as present.” 12 Williamson comments: “With this shadow/reality metaphor, stressing the ephemeral nature of the covenant with Israel, Calvin in his next assertions lapses into displacement rhetoric. These [. . .] argue the letter/spirit, old/new dichotomies: the former covenant was ‘literal, the latter spiritual doctrine; the former he speaks of as carved on tablets of stone, the latter as written upon men’s hearts.’ ‘The former is the preaching of death, the latter of life; the former of condemnation, the latter of righteousness; the former to be made void, the latter to abide.’”13 11 Martin Luther, “New Preface to Ezekiel (1541),” in Martin Luther, the Bible, and the Jewish People: A Reader, ed. Brooks Schramm and Kirsi I. Stjerna (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress, 2012), 158. 12 John Calvin, Calvin: Institutes of the Christian Religion, vol. 1, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2006 [1960]), 453. 13 Clark M. Williamson, A Guest in the House of Israel: Post-Holocaust Church Theology (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1993), 132–33. 5 Protestants and Brahmans in German Indology You worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews. —John 4:22 Unsurprisingly, when German Indologists, most of whom were theologically educated Protestants,14 encountered Sanskrit texts in the nineteenth century they posed their mission in supersessionist terms.15 They portrayed the Brahmans as cunning, mendacious priests, who subjected Indians to a cruel, rigid social hierarchy and extracted wealth for elaborate rituals.16 Indologists like Richard von Garbe (1857–1927) mocked traditional pedagogy and claimed that it consisted mainly of 14 See Adluri and Bagchee, The Nay Science, 351–53. Of the nine scholars we studied, only one—Hermann Jacobi—was Catholic; the remainder were all Protestant. Two were the sons of pastors, one himself a pastor, while another two contemplated joining the clergy. One was the inspector of the Tübingen Seminary; in this capacity, he made the study of the Veda compulsory for students of theology. One served as a missionary in India, while another encouraged both missionary activity and new religious movements. The majority came from southwest Germany and were associated with the Tübingen Seminary. All except four were known to have studied theology (for one no information was available). 15 See Weber, “Ueber die Literatur des Sâmaveda,” 27: “The entire religious and cultural structure of the Indians rests on the Vedas. As soon as these are no longer veiled in their mysterious darkness, but are available openly and freely to everyone’s gaze, the false elements in their alleged reasoning must become evident to all [and] the spirit of religious criticism awakened and thus, in time, put an end to the sorry plight of religious decadence in India. [. . .] [T]he critical, unprejudiced publication and clarification of these texts must and will, some day, assume a role among the Indians similar to Luther’s translation of the Bible” (emphasis in original). 16 For these and other Reformation-era stereotypes of the priest, see Richard Garbe, The Redemption of the Brahman: A Novel (Chicago: Open Court, 1894). Garbe’s “firsthand” account of the Brahmans of Benares fuelled many later criticisms, but we should note that his work was not the first to portray Brahmans in these terms. Rather, the theme of the priests’ desire for power was a commonplace in German Indology well before this period, suggesting indigenous origins. Already in 1837 Christian Lassen (1800–76) spoke of the “addiction to spiritual domination” characteristic of the Brahmans. Allegedly, this was the reason the Brahmans revised the “collection of old epic poems” “intended for the warrior caste.” Christian Lassen, “Beiträge zur Kunde des Indischen Alterthums aus dem Mahâbhârata I: Allgemeines über das Mahâbhârata,” Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 1 (1837): 85–86. Adolf Holtzmann Jr. accused the Brahmans of having “transformed the ancient heroic poem, the greatest spiritual treasure of their people into a tedious Purana that only preaches worship of Vishṇu, reverence before the Brahmans, and soulless faith in works.” Adolf Holtzmann Jr., Zur Geschichte und Kritik des Mahābhārata (Kiel: C. F. Haessler, 1892), 194. The fact that he cited both “ceremonialism” (das Ceremoniell) and “salvation through works” (Werkdienst) as the defining features of Brahmanism is the clearest indication that the context of his criticisms is a Lutheran understanding of faith. 6 obfuscation and hairsplitting.17 Hermann Oldenberg (1854–1920) explicitly contrasted traditional learning (which he disparagingly called Inderwissen or “native knowledge”) with “with the methods of classical philology” and argued that it was the Indologists’ duty to “better” the texts’ transmission.18 He also proposed that Indologists had to “learn to see through” “traditional explanations” of the Ṛgveda and replace them with “better ones.”19 Theodor Goldstücker (1821–72), who authored several notes on the Hindu legal code for the colonial government,20 argued for the wholesale replacement of traditional education with education “based on that system which has invigorated the European mind.”21 Rudolf von Roth (1821–95) declared it as absurd to rely on the medieval commentators 17 See Kaushik Bagchi’s account of the Orientalist Richard Garbe in “An Orientalist in the Orient: Richard Garbe’s Indian Journey, 1885–1886,” Journal of World History 14, no. 3 (2003): 281–325. Bagchi notes that “Garbe considered the pundits to be intellectually immature and unsophisticated, despite their Sanskritic learning. They were for him like a reference work that contained the bare facts but nothing resembling a serious interpretation. From his description of his tutorials in Benares, it appears as though he was the teacher who had to educate the pundits” (ibid., 310). 18 “Does our exegesis have to demonstrate respect before this native knowledge [Inderwissen] or must it on its own responsibility hew open its own paths? Whoever stands closer to my subject knows how diametrically opposed the views are. What I consider to be correct, I will indicate. [. . .] It can only appear correct to me to examine the text without all the literal faith in words [Buchstabenglauben] in the traditional text with the methods of classical philology, as precisely as we are able to examine this: then we learn, I declare, to recognize that the exemplary transmission is nonetheless not infallible and in some places we learn to improve it.” Oldenberg, “Indische und klassische Philologie,” 6. Compare a contemporary scholar’s assessment of Luther: “Luther was not willing to trust the Rabbis in all questions of grammar. He doubted that they had kept the original understanding of the Hebrew language and text. Therefore he often started with the subject of the text and then tried to prove his interpretation philologically.” Siegfried Raeder, “The Exegetical and Hermeneutical Work of Martin Luther,” in Hebrew Bible/Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation, vol. 2. From the Renaissance to the Enlightenment, ed. Magne Saebø (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2008), 403. Oldenberg’s use of “Buchstabenglauben” is most likely a reference to Luther’s Ein Sendebrief vom Dolmetschen und Fürbitte der Heiligen (1530) where Luther criticizes his Roman Catholic opponents as “Buchstabilisten” (literalists) for their strict adherence to the letter (Buchstabe). 19 Oldenberg, “Indische und klassische Philologie,” 6. 20 All the relevant biographic sources cite this detail: C. E. Buckland, ed., Dictionary of Indian Biography (London: Allen, 1911), 169; Jakob Klatzkin and Ismar Elbogen, eds., Encyclopaedia Judaica: Das Judentum in Geschichte und Gegenwart, vol. 7 (Berlin: Eschkol, 1931), 609; Adolph Kohut, Berühmte israelitische Männer und Frauen in der Kulturgeschichte der Menschheit: Lebens- und Charakterbilder aus Vergangenheit und Gegenwart, vol. 1 (Leipzig: Payne, 1900), 182; Rudolf Vierhaus, ed., Deutsche Biographische Enzyklopädie, 2nd revised and expanded ed., vol. 4 (Munich: K. G. Saur, 1996), 39. They do not mention whether Goldstücker’s proposals for a reform of Indian education (see next note) also had an official source. Goldstücker’s opinions on Hindu law are published in On the Deficiences in the Present Administration of Hindu Law (London: Trübner, 1871). 21 “We may, therefore, still entertain the hope that the regeneration of Hinduism will proceed from these schools, provided that they possess the energy to refuse any compromise with sectarian worship, which has brought Hinduism into contempt and ridicule. The means which they possess for combating that enemy is as simple as it is irresistible; a 7 Mahīdhara and Sāyaṇa to translate the Veda as “to make our understanding of the Hebrew books of the Old Testament dependent upon the Talmud and the rabbis.”22 Albrecht Weber (1825–1901) characterized the Buddha as a “Reformer” (Reformator) who “stood up against” “the Brahmanic social order [Staatsthum] in all its extravagance.”23 He declared Buddhism “the most dangerous enemy that Brahmanism ever had.” 24 However, in spite of Buddhism’s reformatory zeal, he argued that Brahmanism, “as a consequence of a consolidation analogous to that Catholicism experienced due to the Reformation, [. . .] and partly due to an ineradicable fundamentalism born of its own interest,” “succeeded in asserting itself and finally displacing Buddhism from all India.” Indeed, it “experienced an even more terrible bigoted and superstitious renaissance, which reached its pinnacle in the socalled Purâṇa and Tantra and the most loathsome customs, in fashion even today.”25 Weber wrote that “the ethical and religious decadence that dominates large parts of India today was only gradually beginning to give way to a new life under the galvanizing force of European civilization.” He thought proper instruction of the growing generation in its ancient literature, an instruction, however wholly different from that now constituting the education of a Hindu youth; to whom reading the Veda is jabbering thoughtlessly the words of the verse, or intoning it to the melody of a teacher as ignorant as himself of its sense; who, by studying grammer, understands cramming his memory with some grammatical forms, without any notion as to the linguistic laws that regulate them; who believes that he can master philosophy or science by sticking to the textbook of one school and disregarding its connexion with all the rest of the literature. That such a method and such a division of labour do not benefit the mind is amply evidenced by the crippled results which they have brought to light. The instruction which India requires, though adapted to her peculiar wants—religious, scientific, and political—must be based on that system which has invigorated the European mind; which, free from the restrictions of rank or caste, tends to impart to it independence of thought and solidity of character.” Goldstücker, ‘The Inspired Writings of Hinduism,” 168–69. 22 Roth, “Vorwort,” v. 23 Weber was not alone in this regard. As Perry Myers shows in German Visions of India, 1871–1918: Commandeering the Holy Ganges during the Kaiserreich (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), German assessments of the Buddha were closely tied to attempts to define a nascent German national identity. Protestant Indologists in particular embraced the Buddha. Oldenberg interpreted the Buddha’s appearance as the moment when eternity pierced the temporal world. Leopold von Schroeder called Buddhism the Protestantism of the East. Myers shows how Protestants portrayed “the Buddha’s reformatory movement as an unequivocal revolt against the Brahmin priestly class”—an argument not lost on Catholic intellectuals in context of the Kulturkampf. “Buddhism depicted as a religious revolt against priestly hierarchies emulated the ongoing threats to Catholic agency in the Kaiserreich” (ibid., 120). Confronted with “Protestantism’s subtle co-optation of Buddhist narratives to attack clerical agency and hierarchical frameworks,” Jesuit scholars like Christian Pesch (1853–1924) and Joseph Dahlmann (1861–1930) responded with their own reading of the Buddha, questioning both the historical coherence and motives of Protestant narratives. 24 Weber, “Brâhmanismus,” 6. 25 Ibid., 6–7. 8 that “efforts aiming at the restoration and publication of ancient Vedic songs and texts” would “contribute not a little to such a revival [of Indian civilization]” and argued for a concerted effort to “critically edit and clarify” the Vedic texts to “disperse the prejudice that the current conditions were based on their authority [that is, of the Vedas].” Weber avowed: “With time, we must and we will bring about a similar revolution in the minds of the thinking Indians, and even of the Brahmans, as was effected among us, in its time, by Dr. M. Luther’s translation of the Bible.”26 German scholars also produced works of grammar, linguistics, lexica, and concordances, and many of them are rightly considered authoritative even today. 27 But these technical aids were primarily intended to support historical research on Sanskrit texts. German scholars explicitly described the beginnings of historical research into India as a milestone and caesura in the knowledge of India.28 They rejected literary and philosophical interpretation of the texts for details of social and historical conditions at the time they were composed (the so-called realia), which they argued contained the clue to the texts’ “real” meaning.29 The question of the canon’s unity did not arise for them. Many, 26 Ibid., 7. 27 The German contribution is discussed in Ernst Windisch, Geschichte der Sanskrit-Philologie und indischen Altertumskunde, 2 vols. (Strassburg: Tübner, 1917–20). 28 See Oldenberg, “Ueber Sanskritforschung,” 386–409, emphasizing the pragmatic contributions of German “science” (Wissenschaft), especially the Petersburg dictionary and Bopp’s comparative grammar. He particularly cites Lassen and Roth as the founders of the science of Indian antiquity: Lassen because his “[Indische] Alterthumskunde] [. . .] stands as a milestone in the history of Indian researches, summarizing all the material of the past” and Roth for “the conquest of the Veda for science.” According to him, the latter “practically divides the development of the science [Wissenschaft] of India into two halves” (ibid., 393). Windisch likewise holds that “Lassen’s Indische Altertumskunde must be considered the conclusion of the first period [sc. “of the history of our discipline (Wissenschaft)”]”; elsewhere he calls it a “Gesamtdarstellung des Wissens vom alten Indien” (complete overview of the knowledge of India). Windisch, Geschichte der Sanskrit-Philologie und indischen Altertumskunde, vol. 1 (Strassburg: Tübner, 1917), 154 and 164. 29 See Hermann Oldenberg, who explicitly claims that “their [the Brahmans’] representations of things and events were vastly distinct from that which appears real, indeed, as representable to modern man. One has—with an expression whose absolute justification I will not deny here—spoken of a ‘prelogical’ intellectual constitution. Naturally, this does not mean that the theology or metaphysics of the Brahmans still remains on a prelogical level. But it is just now on the path of distancing itself from it and has not traveled great stretches in every one of its directions on this path. There are passages where it [the theology or metaphysics] does not do much more than apply that old way of thinking to the material of the sacrifice with which it has to do, [that is,] pull a slightly changed, slightly modernized sacrifical guise over the primitive masses of representation. [. . .] Only very gradually—for the periods that we hear speak of it still lies for the most part in the future—does one learn, instead of the imaginary occurrence, to see the real.” Hermann Oldenberg, Die 9 including Oldenberg, the Göttingen scholar of the Veda, explicitly rejected it.30 Although aware of the Vedas and the epic’s traditional reception as works of divine inspiration, they dismissed it.31 In their view, as native commentators were ignorant of their own history, their interpretations were not to be relied upon.32 Instead, the emphasis was on identifying the earliest layer of the text, especially insofar as it revealed the history of the primitive Indo-Germanic race.33 In The Nay Science we showed Lehre der Upanishaden und die Anfänge des Buddhismus (Göttingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht, 1915), 10–12. It was precisely in this teaching Indians to “see the real” (das wirkliche sehen lernen) that German Indologists saw their mission and their contribution to lie. 30 Oldenberg wrote on śruti (revealed) and smṛti (remembered) texts. For both, he proposed complex theories of composition. The following example is typical: “The poems of the Ṛgveda were taught and learned from generation to generation. Distinct works were combined into collections in the course of oral fixation and transmission. The collections were repeatedly revised and received additions once again in the course of oral fixation and transmission. It is thus understandable that the original structure, indeed, the original stock of the individual hymns itself was damaged, obscured and destroyed; rearrangement destroyed their form; the boundaries between adjacent hymns were forgotten and masses of them were welded together into a seeming unity; modern, easily comprehensible expressions suppressed unfamiliar concepts and ancient linguistic forms—often the most valuable monuments for the researcher, whom they help to understand the history of language just as the natural scientist reads the history of organic life from fossil remains.” Oldenberg, “Ueber Sanskritforschung,” 399. In his work on the Mahābhārata (Hermann Oldenberg, Das Mahābhārata: Seine Entstehung, Sein Inhalt, seine Form [Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1922]), Oldenberg again characterized the Mahābhārata as a “poetic literature” rather than a “poem.” According to him, “The Mahābhārata began its existence as an simple epic narration. It grew in the course of the centuries to a monstrous chaos: besides the main narrative, there are true primal forests of smaller narratives. Besides that, countless and endless teachings about theological, philosophical, natural-scientific matter, law, politics, worldly wisdom, and practical advice” (ibid., 1). Not coincidentally, he advocated the application of “the philological art” to the “highly variably transmitted text of the monstrous work”; a process that he hoped would lead to the revelation that much of what “our unavoidably preliminary observation reckons as part of the characteristic content of the poem” was actually the “non-original work of later copyists” (ibid., 2). 31 Rudolf von Roth, “Ueber gelehrte Tradition im Alterthume besonders in Indien,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 21 (1867): 6: “we may consider the views about the propagation of an ancient secret wisdom in priestly orders and similar mysterious associations as extinguished after we have been granted a completely different insight into the ancient history of the Orient and its religions.” Compare Semler’s “Is it a valid conclusion that because the Jews consider these books divine holy books, all other peoples must also consider their content divine and more honorable than the narration of the history and special events of other peoples?” Johann Salomo Semler, Abhandlung von freier Untersuchung des Canon, vol. 1. (Halle: Carl Hermann Hemmerde, 1771), 24. 32 Roth even exulted, “The halo that in the eyes of some surrounded Indian exegesis is thus fundamentally destroyed, and we may now stand on our own feet.” Rudolf von Roth, “Zur Geschichte des Sanskrit-Wörterbuchs (Gesprochen in der Versammlung der Orientalisten zu Innsbruck, am 29. September 1874),” Bulletin de l’Académie impériale des sciences de St.Petersbourg 21 (1876): 421. This was in response to A. C. Burnell’s edition of the Vaṃśabrāhmaṇa, in which, according to Roth, “Burnell has historically demonstrated in individual aspects what I had theoretically [already] established” (the reference is to Roth’s “Ueber gelehrte Tradition im Alterthume besonders in Indien”). 33 Holtzmann Jr. underscored the “thoroughly warlike worldview” that characterized “the genuine soul of the old parts of the poem.” “Instead of the elegiac softness, the resignation, being tired of life, of later Indian literature the raw warrior10 that these scholars’ approach to Sanskrit texts can best be understood in the context of Reformation debates over the interpretation of scripture.34 The Indologists’ emphasis on literal over spiritual meaning, their faith in being able to identify a more original meaning in the text through grammatical and philological inquiries, and their conviction that German as a language was especially suited to capturing the texts’ meaning had historic parallels in Luther.35 More immediately, their adoption of the historical-critical method was clearly indebted to neo-Protestant biblical criticism.36 We traced the influence of Johann Salomo Semler’s anti-Judaic interpretation of the canon on them as well as their appropriation of Ferdinand Christian Baur’s critical method through which he intended to recover the documents of “a primordial Christianity” (Urchristentum). Like Baur, the Indologists posited a twofold distinction in the text: the earlier, heroic, “Aryan” outlook and the later, ritualistic “Brahmanic” outlook (compare Baur’s contrast between the allegedly “Pauline” and “Petrine” factions in the New Testament).37 They claimed that the task of interpretation was to eliminate the later like air of the old Germanic North blows against us here.” He added, “If we were ever to succeed in determining the oldest cultural stage of the Indian race [. . .] and to dissolve away almost by means of a chemical process all influences of [. . .] Brahmanism [. . .] we would find conditions before us only a little different from those described by Tacitus as unique to the ancient Germans. But even in its contemporary ruined form the Mahābhārata often delivers us the best commentary on Germania.” Holtzmann Jr., Zur Geschichte und Kritik des Mahābhārata, 45–46. Oldenberg likewise observed: “We encounter at every step unmistakeable proof of [the epic’s] origins in Brahmanic circles; [. . .] this clearly manifests even in the oldest recognizable layer of the epic text. But the thought is suggestive that if we could only get behind this oldest layer, we would find that the first origin of the narration of heroic battles must be sought among worldly bards of the sūta caste rather than the Brahmans.” Oldenberg, Das Mahābhārata, 16. 34 See Hans-Joachim Krauss, Geschichte der historisch-kritischen Erforschung des Alten Testaments von der Reformation bis zur Gegenwart (Neukirchen: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Erziehungsvereins, 1956). 35 See Raeder, “The Exegetical and Hermeneutical Work of Martin Luther,” 405: “For Luther only the word of God is holy, and not a language in its own right. Moreover, it is the word of God which sanctifies language to be its ‘vessel.’ The German language is a sanctified language, and therefore it is of the same dignity as the Hebrew and the Greek languages, since it has also become a vessel of God’s word.” 36 See Adluri and Bagchee, The Nay Science, introduction and chapter 4. The debt extends to the specific means (the historical-critical method), aim (historicization of sources) and agenda (delegitimating the canon) of the new science. German scholars also explicitly contrasted their “philological-critical method” and their “historical grasp of facts” (historische Auffassung von Tatsachen) with the methods of native scholarship. See Heinrich Lüders, “Philologie, Geschichte und Archäologie in Indien. Vortrag gehalten auf dem Fünften Deutschen Orientalistentag,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 83, no. 1 (1929): 9. 37 See Ferdinand Christian Bauer, “Die Christuspartei in der korinthischen Gemeinde, der Gegensatz des petrinischen und paulinischen Christenthums in der ältesten Kirche, der Apostel Petrus in Rom,” Tübinger Zeitschrift für Theologie 3, no. 4 (1831): 61–206. Anders Gerdmar considers Baur’s role in fashioning the “Judaism-Hellenism dichotomy” in 11 Brahmanic “additions” to come as close as possible to the Ur-Bhārata or Ur-Mahābhārata, similarly identified with the “real” history of ancient India, which they claimed had gone unrecognized by the Indians themselves.38 In their view, Indology was tasked not only with the recovery of this history but also, in the measure that it did so, with refuting the mythological and cosmological framework within which these texts had traditionally been located.39 We showed that contrary to the Indologists’ claim that their scholarship was objective, secular, and universal, it actually continued a Protestant Reformation agenda. This agenda comprised three elements: first, a criticism of Brahmans; second, a transfer of authority over Sanskrit texts to the critic; and third, the liberation of the Indian mind from the shackles of Brahmanism.40 We further showed that their reconstructions of more original Anders Gerdmar, “Baur and the Creation of the Judaism-Hellenism Dichotomy,” in Ferdinand Christian Baur und die Geschichte des frühen Christentums, ed. Martin Bauspieß, Christof Landmesser, and David Lincicum (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 107–28. 38 See Hermann Oldenberg, Buddha: His Life, His Doctrine, His Order, trans. William Hoey (London: Williams & Norgate, 1882), 9: “The Aryan population of India came into the peninsula, as is well known, from the north-west. The immigration lay already in the remote past at the time to which the oldest monuments of which we have religious poetry belong. The Indians had as completely lost the memory of this as the corresponding events had been forgotten by the Greeks and Italians.” Before him, August Schlegel had opined, “Un peuple illetré, n’ayant pas l’usage de l’écriture, devenu sédentaire après une longue et pénible migration, peut facilement dans quelques siècles en perdre le souvenir; ou s’il en reste quelques traces, il ne saura pas indiquer avec précision le point de départ, puisqu’il faudrait pour cela posséder une connaissance générale de la forme des continents et des mers. Il se peut donc que les peuples aient été de bonne foi quand ils répondaient aux étrangers qui les questionnaient sur ce point: Nos ancêtres ne sont pas venus d’ailleurs; ils ont de tout temps habité ce pays; ils y sont nés. [. . . ] Si nous consultons maintenant la tradition des Hindous, consignée dans les anciens livres sanscrits, nous voyons qu’elle désigne la contrée située sur les deux rives du Gange comme le berceau de leur nation. C’est là terre sainte que le Dieu créateur, selon eux, assigna au peuple élu, aux patriarches duquel il révéla le vrai culte. Si nous voulions donc nous exprimer à la manière des anciens, il faudrait dire que les Indiens prétendent être des Autochthones. Nous verrons bientôt des raisons décisives pour ne pas ajouter foi à cette assertion.” August W. Schlegel, “De l’origine des Hindous,” in Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature of the United Kingdom, vol. 2, Part 2 (London: John Murray, 1834), 406–7 and 409. 39 Baur provides the most succinct statement of this principle in his biographic reflection in the second edition of his Kirchengeschichte des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts when he writes:“If a period becomes more clearly known the more deeply one sees into its circumstances and its endeavors, into the antitheses operative in it, I believe I have attained a historical comprehension of a period of the most ancient history of Christianity, which hithertho has remained in principle immune from historical examination because, on the basis of a dogmatic assumption, people held that what happened [in the events recorded in the New Testament] was not at all possible in the ordinary course of events.” Ferdinand Christian Baur, Kirchengeschichte des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts, ed., Eduard Zeller, 2nd ed. (Tübingen: Fues’s Verlag, 1877), 416–21, cited and translated in Ferdinand Christian Baur, Lectures on New Testament Theology, ed., Peter C. Hodgson, trans. Robert F. Brown (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 6. 40 The best source for this is Richard Garbe’s 1894 novel, The Redemption of the Brahman. Garbe describes the transformation the Brahman Ramchandra undergoes on realizing Brahmanism’s cruelty and oppressiveness. His 12 versions of Sanskrit texts were philologically and historically untenable.41 In fact, they had been proposed merely in order to legitimate a certain narrative of an idealized Indian past, and, consequent on this, intervention in Indian history.42 teacher, the English judge (in whose European features Garbe doubtless saw himself), gradually introduces him to the progressive social values of European civilization. The climactic scene occurs at the novel’s end, when Ramchandra breaks the caste taboo to assist the mourning widow Gopa and is excommunicated by the priest: “This was too much for Ramchandra. His well-restrained indignation now broke forth in full strength. ‘Silence! if your slanderous tongue utters another such word, you shall feel my hand in your face!’”; “‘The gods!’ repeated Ramchandra. ‘I do not fear them. Even the gods Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, are not the highest in the universe, far above them stands the great One who has no equal’” (ibid., 78); “‘Redemption?’ Ramchandra cried while his superior indignantly left the room, ‘I have found it. There is but one in India, the redemption from the fetters of your delusion, from the soul-searching bonds of Brahmanism’” (ibid., 79); “‘Look, Sahib, the Brahman cord still hangs about my neck.’ He threw back his outer garment, took off the single white woolen cord, which is the sacred emblem of Brahmanism, broke it, and threw it from him. ‘There it lies in shreds, the last outward sign which binds me to my caste. My Brahmanhood is gone’” (ibid., 81); “Gopa threw herself at the feet of the judge: ‘Oh, Sahib; oh, protector of the poor, you are great and good!’ The Englishman lifted her up with the gentle reproach: ‘Gopa, rise; one must not kneel before man.’ And, turning to Ramchandra, he said: ‘You do not know yet what I owe you. You have restored in me the belief in your people, which I had lost. In you I see the future of this country!’” (ibid., 82). Evidently, the irony of having a colonial official, who lived off of the land, threatened to whip its citizens, and described them as intellectually and morally less developed give lessons on equality to Ramchandra was lost on Garbe. Doubtless, this was how most German Indologists saw themselves: as liberators and educators of the Indians, who would free them from the bonds of Brahmanism (and not incidentally assume their position at the apex of society), but in truth they were well aware that their discipline’s prospects were dependent upon disparaging the Brahmans’ traditional authority. Hence the constant need to portray Brahmanism as the greatest evil in Indian society. 41 See The Nay Science, chapters 2 and 3, especially chapter 3, which focuses more narrowly on attempts to reconstruct the “original” Gītā. The Nay Science covers German Gītā scholarship up to 1969; for scholarship thereafter, see Vishwa Adluri and Joydeep Bagchee, “Paradigm Lost: The Application of the Historical-Critical Method to the Bhagavadgītā,” International Journal of Hindu Studies 20, no. 2 (2016): 199–301. 42 See The Nay Science, chapters 1–3. None of the histories proposed for the Mahābhārata and the Bhagavadgītā were accurate or based on historical investigations. There was a complete lack of agreement concerning details. The only common precept was that the rise of priestly power was responsible for the Aryans’ decline. Thus, although the Indologists claimed to be interested in Indian history, their reconstructions actually concerned an argument for their positions in the present: If the history of India was one of Brahman domination, then a class of critics is required to oversee Brahmans. If the history of India was one of excessive philosophical speculation, then a pragmatic, striving people such as the Germans is the logical complement. If the history of India was one of Brahmanic “interpolation” of texts, a critical Indology is the solution. Above all, if the history of India was one of how a heroic Aryan civilization had undergone decline due to racial miscegenation, then important lessons could be drawn for Germany’s present situation and those drawing those lessons could expect generous state salaries. 13 Anti-Semites and Arrivistes in the University For the life of a creature is in the blood. —Leviticus 17:11 German Indology’s ingrained anti-Semitism is especially evident in its systematic discrimination against Jews. The experience of Jewish scholars like Theodor Goldstücker (1821–72), Theodor Benfey (1809–81), and Theodor Aufrecht (1822–1907) suggests that, contrary to the Indologists’ claim of a theologically neutral, “presuppositionless” science, Indology was, rather, a Protestant undertaking. Confession was not supposed to play a role and yet all three Jewish scholars found conversion unavoidable.43 After studying in Königsberg, Bonn, and Berlin,44 Goldstücker found he could not enroll for a Habilitation, a major disadvantage in a system where teaching was conditional on the Venia legendi.45 According to Goldstücker’s biographer, his application was rejected “for purely confessional reasons.”46 Goldstücker’s teacher Rosenkranz interceded on his behalf, but the deeply Protestant Eichhorn rejected his application.47 The following year (1842) Goldstücker left for Paris 43 Benfey converted in 1846. Aufrecht must have converted sometime between 1854 and 1855, though the exact date is unknown. Roth refers to Goldstücker’s conversion in a letter to Julius Grill from 1854, but the actual date is unknown. 44 Goldstücker’s teachers in Königsberg were Friedrich Wilhelm Schubert, Johann Karl Friedrich Rosenkranz, and Paul von Bohlen. In Bonn he studied with Georg Wilhelm Freytag, August Wilhelm Schlegel, and Christian Lassen, and in Berlin with Jakob Grimm and Franz Bopp. 45 Until the nineteenth century, those with doctoral degrees could offer private lectures at universities. After 1816, many universities introduced the Habilitationsverfahren, which made teaching conditional on the faculty’s acceptance. Successful completion of the Habilitation led to the award of the Venia legendi, which qualified the candidate to teach as a Privatdozent (an unsalaried position, though lecturers could collect fees from students). Higher ranks such as the salaried extraordentliche Professor or Extraordinariat (associate professor) and the ordentliche Professur or Ordinariat (full professor) were likewise out of reach without a Venia legendi. 46 Salomon Wininger, Große jüdische National-Biographie, vol. 2 (Cernăuți: Druck “Orient,” 1927), 477. 47 Johann Albrecht Friedrich Eichhorn (1779–1856) was the Prussian Kultusminister between 1840 and 1848. He was well known for his conservative views and for pursuing an anti-Jewish politics. As head of the Prussian Kultusministerium, Eichhorn had extensive power over educational and religious policies (the ministry’s official name was Preußisches Ministerium der geistlichen, Unterrichts- und Medizinalangelegenheiten; it thus included oversight over the churches). 14 where he studied with Eugène Burnouf (1801–52).48 He returned to Königsberg in 1845 and moved to Berlin in 1847.49 However, he found that, even with Alexander von Humboldt’s support, he, “the born Jew,” could not gain a position.50 Goldstücker finally emigrated to Great Britain in 1850,51 illustrating the truth of one scholar’s observation that “Jewish scholars often had but one alternative, exile or conversion.”52 Likewise, Benfey found that, while in theory Indology advocated universalism, in practice it remained exclusionary.53 The son of a renowned Talmudist,54 Benfey studied in Göttingen and Munich,55 gaining the Promotion in 1828 and the Venia legendi in 1829 (in “Occidental philology”).56 Though 48 French Jews gained full emancipation as early as 1791. They could also hold professorships in the first half of the nineteenth century, whereas in Germany it took until 1859 for the first unbaptized Jew—the mathematician Moritz Stern, a student of Karl Friedrich Gauß, and himself famous for his contributions to number theory—to gain a professorship. 49 Harry Herbert Tobies, Königsberg, München, Jerusalem: Jüdische Menschen und jüdisches Leben über die Jahrhunderte (Munich: Harry Tobies, 2006), 412–13. 50 “Theodor Goldstücker,” Magazin für die Literatur des Auslandes 41, no. 12 (1872): 152–53. 51 At Horace Hayman Wilson’s (1786–1860) invitation, who asked him to assist with a new edition of his Sanskrit lexicon. In 1852, Goldstücker was offered the chair of Sanskrit at University College, London. Except for annual visits to family in Königsberg, he never returned. 52 Pascale Rabault-Feuerhahn, Archives of Origins: Sanskrit, Philology, Anthropology in 19th Century Germany, trans. Dominique Bach and Richard Willet (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2013), 202. 53 Christopher Benfey attributes the name to the 1812 Edict’s requirement that Jews adopt surnames. Isaak Benfey’s father, known as Feistel Dottores (occasionally Hellenized to Philipp Theodorus) chose “Benfeibisch,” meaning “son of Feibisch.” Benfey cites Meta Benfey as saying, “Luckily the authorities thought the ugly name was too long and struck the last syllable,” but does not provide a source. Christopher Benfey, Red Brick, Black Mountain, White Clay: Reflections on Art, Family, and Survival (New York: Penguin Press, 2012), 100. 54 Isaak Benfey (1763–1832); Benfey’s daughter attributes her father’s love of learning to Benfey Sr.’s narration of Old Testament stories. Renate Heuer, ed., Lexikon deutsch-jüdischer Autoren: Archiv Bibliographia Judaica, vol. 2 (1993), 31–50 contains an entry on the Benfey family. 55 Benfey’s teachers in Göttingen were the philologists Karl Otfried Müller and Georg Ludolph Dissen. In Munich, he studied with Friedrich Wilhelm Thiersch. Meta Benfey also lists the names Ast, Mitscherlich, Schulze, Bouterweck, Ewald, and Sartorious as his “main teachers” and notes that he read “Allgemeine Weltgeschichte” (Universal World History) with Görres. Meta Benfey, “Biographie von Theodor Benfey,” in Theodor Benfey, Kleinere Schriften, edited by Adalbert Bezzenberger, xii–xiii. Berlin: H. Reuthers, 1890. 56 Meta Benfey, “Biographie von Theodor Benfey,” xiii. 15 obviously talented, he found himself unemployed.57 After brief stints as a tutor in Frankfurt (1830) and Heidelberg (1832), he returned to Göttingen in 1833 for a Habilitation in Sanskrit and comparative religious studies (completed 1834).58 The Habilitation brought him the status of a Privatdozent, but did not lead to an improvement in his financial condition.59 Like his colleague, the brilliant Jewish mathematician Moritz Stern (1807–94), he remained dependent “on supplications for annual grants ‘to improve [his] condition.’”60 Between 1839 and 1849, Benfey wrote several letters to former teachers and colleagues, begging for assistance, but to no avail.61 Christian Lassen delighted in 57 According to Meta Benfey, he knew Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French, and German and learned Sanskrit in four weeks to win a bet. Meta Benfey, “Biographie von Theodor Benfey,” ix–x and xv. 58 The Venia legendi was awarded for his dissertation. Meta Benfey, “Biographie von Theodor Benfey,” xiii. Göttingen did not couple the award of the Privatdozentur to the Habilitation until 1831 (specifically with the “Regulativ” of March 28, 1931). See the excellent study by Johannes Tütke, Privatdozenten im Schatten der Georgia Augusta: Statutenrecht und Alltagspraxis. Zur älteren Privatdozentur (1734 bis 1831), 2 vols. (Göttingen: Universitätsverlag Göttingen, 2005). 59 A Privatdozent was an unpaid lecturer. He had the right to privately collect fees, but, on average, Benfey had only five to six students. Often, lectures were canceled for lack of interest. 60 Peter Aufgebauer, “Judentaufen im Umfeld der Göttinger Universität,” in Konversionen von Juden zum Christentum in Nordwestdeutschland, ed., Werner Meiners (Hannover: Hahn, 2009), 206. Aufgebauer bases himself on Benfey’s personal file in the Göttingen university archive (Univ.-Archiv Göttingen, Phil. Fak. 4 V b110: Personalakte Theodor Benfey). 61 Benfey wrote letters to Franz Bopp (1791–1867), Alexander von Humboldt (1769–1859), and Joseph Freiherr von Hammer-Purgstall (1774–1856), the Viennese diplomat and Orientalist. He also wrote to Christian Lassen and Eugène Burnouf. Bopp replied on October 18, 1839 that the position in Petersburg “was already filled” and the one in London “unenviable” as it was unsalaried. Humboldt’s intervention in 1843 secured an annual stipend of 300 Thalers. Humboldt replied on April 21, 1849 that his current lack of contacts in Vienna and the present political situation made it impossible for him to “fulfill his wish” (Benfey probably asked him to intervene for the chair in comparative philology: we have similar letters concerning this chair from Hammer-Purgstall). Hammer-Purgstall wrote on March 29, 1849 that he had recommended him for the chair to Ministerialrath Exner (Franz Serafin Exner, 1802–53) and the latter had forwarded his letter to Dr. Helfert, Undersecretary in the Education Ministry (Humboldt also mentions Helfert). Hammer-Purgstall wrote again on July 23, 1849 and on October 10, 1849 to inform him there were no plans to offer him the position and that he had “nothing left except pious wishes” for Benfey. For the sources, see “Briefe an Theodor Benfey,” in Theodor Benfey, Kleinere Schriften, ed. Adalbert Bezzenberger (Berlin: H. Reuthers, 1890), 245–68. Humboldt’s successful intervention is cited in Aufgebauer, “Judentaufen im Umfeld der Göttinger Universität,” 206. Burnouf’s letters to Benfey are reprinted in Laure Delisle, ed., Choix de lettres d’Eugène Burnouf 1825–1853 suivi d’une bibliographie (Paris: H. Champion, 1891). Two are of interest: a letter from April 9, 1841, in which Burnouf wrote, “I have not lost sight of the object, even more importantly, of which you speak in your letter: the question of your establishment in Paris. But despite my research, I have yet to find anything that could ensure some stability. In the position where you are, it would be very imprudent to venture into a country where you would be for more or less time abroad” (ibid., 328); and a second from June 15, 1841, addressed to A. M. J. Mohl (Julius Mohl [1800–1876], the Swabian Orientalist appointed to the Extraordinariat in Tübingen in 1826, who spent the next nine years in Paris on half his salary with the promise of the Ordinariat on his return!). In it, Burnouf begs Mohl to “to let go [his] inflexible rigor 16 his misfortune.62 Worse still, his former teacher Heinrich Ewald (1803–75) turned on him.63 In his review of Benfey’s Über das Verhältnis der ägyptischen Sprache zum semitischen Sprachstamm (On the Relationship of the Egyptian Language to the Semitic Branch of Languages),64 Ewald presented Benfey as an outsider to the discipline of Oriental studies.65 Invoking the biblical parable of weeds when it comes to Benfey’s book on India,” and adds: “Benfey is a very deserving man. He is a Jew and, as such, very unhappy where he is; every month he writes to me heartbreaking letters imploring me to find a job for him here, where he would like to come and settle with his wife and children. I have looked and found nothing. Benfey imagines that I have a very long arm. With all my strength, I try and dissuade him to leave his homeland, and he answers that a Prussian Jew has no homeland” (ibid., 333–34). 62 Benfey and Lassen maintained a correspondence between 1835 and 1842. Lassen, a notorious anti-Semite (he coined the terms “Semite” and “Semitic”), was less than helpful. March 22, 1835: “Herr Weber is currently not inclined to accept my recommendations. The Indische Bibliothek is a long and uncertain prospect, and we would once again run up against Herr Weber. I have little contact to other bookstores”; May 7, 1836: “I expected that [. . .], as this was your wish, it [Benfey’s Indische Metrik] could have appeared therein [the third volume of Indische Bibliothek]. But it lies in the far future for this Bibliothek, and since I have separated myself from all contact with the editorial board [. . .], I am unable to do anything more in this regard”; March 15, 1837: “I would volunteer to write a notice (but which would only be approving and cursory rather than evaluative), if I at all wrote reviews or at all had any contact to review outlets. I live in this regard like a saṃnyâsî” and “For the moment, however, nothing can be done with them [König and Van Borcharen]; they are newcomers and shy of taking on too much at once. Since early publication is probably your most important consideration and I could only obtain a vague promise of future acceptance, I have broken off negotiations for now”; August 22, 1837: “A part of a manuscript commentary, which however is quite modern, is at your service to use freely; however, I only possess the beginning and a few insignificant scholia from the twelfth book. [. . .] About the Veda calendar, I must not have expressed myself quite clearly for I see that you believe I am in possession of it. However, what I have are some parts of no significance.” For the sources, see “Briefe an Theodor Benfey,” 245–50. König and Van Borcharen were Lassen’s publishers; they had published his translation of Jayadeva’s Gītā Govinda (1836) and Institutiones Linguae Pracriticae (1837), and, as H. B. König, the Anthologia Sanscritica glossario instructa (1838). Lassen was also on good terms with Weber and A. W. Schlegel, the editor, publisher, and, for a long time, sole contributor of Indische Bibliothek. He was Schlegel’s student and assistant, and Weber had studied with him. See Wolfgang Morgenroth, “Albrecht Friedrich Weber—ein Bahnbrecher der Indologie. Aus Anlaß der 150. Wiederkehr seines Geburtstags,” Altorientalische Forschungen 5 (1978): 98. 63 Benfey’s sin had been relatively minor. He had questioned some of Ewald’s comparisons and noted of others that Ewald proceed “uncritically” (kritiklos). Theodor Benfey, Ueber das Verhältnis der ägyptischen Sprache zum semitischen Sprachstamm (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1844), 57 and 80. Ewald probably thought it unacceptable that a younger scholar and that, too, a Jew should criticize him. 64 Heinrich Ewald, “Von morgenländischer Sprachvergleichung in Deutschland; mit Rücksicht auf das Buch: Ueber das Verhältnis der ägyptischen Sprache zum semitischen Sprachstamm. Von Theodor Benfey,” Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes 5 (1844): 425–36. The journal was a collaboration between Christian Lassen and Heinrich Ewald; they appear to have planned Benfey’s public dressing-down. 65 See ibid., 425: “Wird eine Wissenschaft nicht etwa von solchen, die sich nicht zu ihren Kennern und Ausübern rechnen, sondern in ihrem eigenen Lager von solchen verhöhnt und tathsächlich schwer verletzt, welche sich ganz so stellen, als gehörten sie zu ihr: so ist auch der ruhig der Kraft der Wahrheit vertrauende Mann nicht zu gut, um sich nicht so bald und so entschieden als möglich dem Einreissen verderblicher Richtungen entgegenzustemmen,” and 428–29: 17 invading a cornfield, he invited his readers to eradicate “the weed of heresy.”66 He explicitly mentioned Benfey’s Jewish origins, writing, “Mr. Benfey is a Jew.”67 Rather unfairly, he also imputed revolutionary associations to him. 68 When the university commissioned him to evaluate Benfey’s work, he produced a distinctively negative report. He described his work on classical philology as of marginal value and noted that his Habilitation lay twenty years back. He also mentioned Benfey’s Jewish origins, calling him a “born Jew” though he granted that “the brashness and impertinence that is so easily characteristic of a born Jew no longer manifest[ed] itself in this his newest [. . .] work.”69 Long after he gained international recognition,70 Benfey finally received an Ordinariat in Oriental Languages and “Geht dieses Vergleichen so fort, so geht eben damit auch alle gründliche Kenntniss morgenländischer Sprachen und jeder wahre Fortschritt auf diesem Gebiete unter; und gewöhnt man sich in der morgendländischen Sprachenkunde an ein solches arbeitscheues verworrenes Treiben, so ist nicht abzusehen, warum nicht nächstens auch die Volksgeschichte, die Literaturgeschichte und jedes andere Feld morgenländischer Wissenschaft von solchen, die wich für Wissenschaftsmänner ausgeben, ähnlich verwüstet sein sollte.” 66 The parable is recounted at Matthew 13:24–29; Jesus’s interpretation is given at Matthew 13:40. Jesus equates the weeds with the people of the evil one and the enemy who sows them with the devil. Ewald borrowed the parable, but inverted its meaning. In the parable, the man tells his men to pull up the weeds only at harvest, which Jesus interprets as a reference to the end of the age. Ewald, however, argued that the man “who trusts in the truth is not too good that he does not set himself as soon and as decisively as possible against the incursion of corrupting influences for whoever has reflected about the possibility of the existence of a human good will find that everything good among humans (and among this we also count every true science) only germinates, flourishes, and preserves itself insofar as the seed of corrupting influences, which constantly grows rank, is firmly warded off in its emergence so that it may not, once it has grown, for a long time hinder all progress for the better” (ibid., 425–26). 67 “Thus due to certain Christians and due to Jews (Mr. Benfey is a Jew) a spirit threatens to enter Oriental studies that reminds us only too well in what time and in what land we live. It is the spirit of 1830, not the upright one that stirred in many lands, but the impure one adulterated with it, which now that the other one has dissipated, would like to rule all alone and to destroy everyone but itself; since it cannot otherwise stir in Germany it has flung itself into literature, whereby the impotence of censorship manifests itself clearly, and because there are no ministers to overthrow in Germany one must drag university professors into the mud, and the nobler they are the more so. But I am still standing for Mr. Benfey and all people of his kind” (ibid., 431–32). 68 See preceding note. The reference is to a series of smaller uprising in Berlin and other German cities in response to the July Revolution of 1830. In Berlin and Munich the protests were put down with violence. 69 Aufgebauer, “Judentaufen im Umfeld der Göttinger Universität,” 206. Aufgebaur cites Univ.-Archiv Göttingen, Phil. Fak. 4 V b110: Personalakte Theodor Benfey, fol. 78 as his source, but does not give further details of the title and/or date. 70 See Adalbert Bezzenberger, “Benfey, Theodor,” in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie , vol. 46 (Leipzig: Duncker & Humblot, 1902), 358–59. Benfey was a member of the Munich and Berlin Academies and the Institut de France, and received the institute’s Volney prize in 1842 for his Griechische Wurzel-Lexikon. Two years after the Ordinarius, he finally gained membership of the Göttingen Academy (Ewald opposed him again). The newer biography of Benfey in Neue 18 Sanskrit Philology in 1862,71 leading his daughter Meta Benfey to observe: “In this small and petty town, with its atmosphere filled with an arrogant, aristocratic caste spirit [Kastengeist], people were not able even in relatively late years to see something else in an important man, recognized even beyond the walls of his native town, other than the son of a small Jewish merchant.”72 The third Jewish scholar of note, Theodor Aufrecht, was more fortunate, though he also found no way around conversion, illustrating the truth of Heine’s remark that, for Jews, the Taufschein (proof of baptism) constituted their “entry ticket to European culture.”73 After studying in Berlin and Halle (at the former under Franz Bopp, August Böckh, and Karl Lachmann), Aufrecht joined Max Müller as his assistant in Oxford in 1852. A year later, he found a position at the Bodleian Library, cataloguing Sanskrit manuscripts. The Catalogi codicum manuscriptorum bibl. Bodleianae pars octava codices Sanscriticos complectens, published between 1859 and 1864, consolidated his reputation.74 In 1862, Deutsche Biographie (Willibald Kirfel, “Benfey, Theodor,” in Neue Deutsche Biographie, vol. 2 [Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1955], 46) in contrast is much less useful. 71 That is, fourteen years after the Extraordinariat, twenty-eight years after the Privatdozentur, and thirty-four years after embarking on an academic career (date of the Promotion). The comparable times for his peers were: ten, thirteen, and thirteen years for Christian Lassen; eleven, nineteen, and twenty-two years for Albrecht Weber; and eight, eleven, and thirteen years for Rudolf von Roth. The well-connected Heinrich Ewald, in contrast, required only four, seven (from the Repetent, tutor, position of the Protestant seminary), and eight years. Benfey was older than all of his contemporaries; he was only six years younger than his teacher Ewald and only nine years separated him from Lassen, a first-generation Indologist. 72 Meta Benfey, “Biographie von Theodor Benfey,” xiii. In Bezzenberger’s view, Benfey “belonged among the best of all time.” Adalbert Bezzenberger, “Theodor Benfey,” in Theodor Benfey, Kleinere Schriften, ed. Adalbert Bezzenberger (Berlin: H. Reuthers, 1890), 234. Bezzenberger also dedicated an orbituary to his teacher in Conrad Bursian’s Jahresbericht über die Fortschritte der classischen Alterthumswissenschaft 92 (1882): 103–7. There he called him “a noble, true nature, innocent as a child, of unlimited dedication to those whom he loved, of a good-heartedness that can never be forgotten by anyone who ever encountered it” (ibid., 107). 73 Heinrich Heine, Werke und Briefe in zehn Bänden, ed. Hans Kaufmann, vol. 7, 2nd ed. (Berlin and Weimar: Aufbau, 1972), 373. 74 Access to manuscript collections was a key advantage, since the Prussian state placed great emphasis on building up collections to rival those in London and Paris. In 1842, the government acquired the Chambers manuscript collection, the largest private collection in Europe at the time for the princely sum of £1250 (about 8500 thaler; the Berlin university library’s annual budget was only 500 thaler). See Douglas T. McGetchin, Indology, Indomania, and Orientalism: Ancient India’s Rebirth in Modern Germany (Madison and Teaneck, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson Press, 2009), 101. Albrecht Weber’s rise to preeminence was largely due to the fact that he was able to persuade Kultusminister Eichhorn to create a position of cataloguer at the Königliche Preußische Bibliothek and simultaenously get himself appointed to it. See 19 Aufrecht was appointed to the newly founded chair in Edinburgh. He only returned to Germany in 1875 to take up the chair in Bonn.75 But career hurdles were not the only form of discrimination Jewish scholars faced. They were also frequent targets of what one scholar describes as “the bourgeois anti-Semitism” of their colleagues.76 Conversion theoretically made them full members of society, but it also exposed them to the charge of a so-called Karrieretaufe (career baptism).77 Weber, for instance, doubted the sincerity of Aufrecht’s conversion. He wrote, “Aufrecht has gone over to the English side as Prof. Larsow, who was in Oxford over the summer, mentions (Bunsen’s son, who is an English priest, baptized him); here where it was practically necessary, he did not want to do it; there where it was unnecessary, though also not Albrecht Weber, Letter to Friedrich Eichhorn, Ministerium für geistliche, Unterrichts- und Medizinalangelegenheiten, April 27, 1847, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, Handschriftenabteilung, Signatur: Slg. Darmstaedter 2b 1849: Weber, Albrecht Friedrich, folios 188–89. 75 Hermann Jacobi, “Theodor Aufrecht,” The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland (1907): 1121– 125; Willibald Kirfel, “Aufrecht, Theodor,” in Neue Deutsche Biographie, vol. 1 (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 1953), 442–43. 76 Gabriele Zeller, “Rudolf von Roth als Schüler, Lehrer und Gelehrter im Spiegel von Briefdokumenten,” in Indienforschung im Zeitenwandel: Analysen und Dokumente zur Indologie und Religionswissenschaft in Tübingen, ed. Heidrun Brückner, Klaus Butzenberger, Angelika Malinar, and Gabriele Zeller (Tübingen, Germany: Attempto Verlag, 2003), 104. 77 The distinction was not always clearcut. As Richarz notes, “as long as Jews were denied civil and legal emancipation, the academic professions, with the exception of that of a doctor, remained closed to them. In this situation, baptism for many academics represented a social rather than a religious act, which first enabled, at least for the individual, the social integration that they sought.” Monika Richarz, Der Eintritt der Juden in die akademischen Berufe: Jüdische Studenten und Akademiker in Deutschland 1678–1848 (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1974), 82. Benfey’s conversion, for instance, was clearly career-related (ibid., 213 and see also Aufgebauer, “Judentaufen im Umfeld der Göttinger Universität,” 206). Aufgebauer notes that a week later (that is, on April 30, 1846) “he announced his conversion to ‘the Christian church (evangelical confession)’ to the university board of trustees” (ibid., 206). The following year, he applied for the Extraordinariat. Though not granted immediately, the university did recommend him the following year, noting, “Since the confessional reasons that formerly spoke against his hire have been adressed for over a year, his nomination as extraordinary professor [. . .] is most humbly requested” (ibid., 207). The Extraordinariat was awarded without an increase in salary on March 5, 1848. Yet Meta Benfey believes Benfey’s decision was not without an intellectual component: “The decision to such a step, which always involves an inner struggle, was ripened by the desire, to see the boundaries fall, which separated him, the Indogermanist kat’ exochen externally from the culture on which he was so thoroughly based” (though she also adds that “this ideal need was united with a more personal one: the desire to eliminate for his children, who [. . .] would one day have to earn their living by work, what had been the greatest hindrance on his own path”). Meta Benfey, “Biographie von Theodor Benfey,” xxv–xxvi. 20 inexpedient, he found the heart for it.”78 Otto von Böhtlingk (1815–1904) likewise speculated, “The motives must surely have been base.”79 Other colleagues came off worse. Niels Ludvig Westergaard (1815–78) was a “a rabid Dane (of Jewish origin).”80 “The Jews Benfey and Goldstücker mutually exchange[d] flatteries for no reason.”81 “Benfey practically suffer[ed] from an incurable oral diarrhea. The famous man must immediately pass an absolute judgment on every work that relates to his field. So much waste could hardly be discharged when a healthy man defecates.”82 Goldstücker was “a miserable fellow” (ein erbärmlicher Kerl).83 In addition, he had “put on his intellect backwards” as Whitney said.84 The publisher H. B. König, though “not a Jew by birth,” was “de facto the greatest 78 Albrecht Weber, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, December 30, 1853, cited in Gabrielle Zeller, “Rudolf von Roth als Schüler, Lehrer und Gelehrter im Spiegel von Briefdokumenten,” in Indienforschung im Zeitenwandel: Analysen und Dokumente zur Indologie und Religionswissenschaft in Tübingen, ed. Heidrun Brückner, Klaus Butzenberger, Angelika Malinar, and Gabriele Zeller (Tübingen, Germany: Attempto Verlag, 2003), 101 (underlining in source). Weber was a member of the Verein zur Abwehr des Antisemitismus (the Anti-Semitism Defense League), which entered into the Berliner Antisemitismusstreit on behalf of the Jews against Heinrich von Treischke. But as Alan Levenson shows, membership in the Verein was not incompatible with the belief in conversion or at least milder forms thereof such as secularization. Thus, Levenson notes that “Albrecht Weber called for a wide-ranging mixture of religious, social, and economic reforms in Jewish life in order for Jews to achieve social acceptance, he sounded perilously close to a demand for forced assimilation.” Alan T. Levenson, Between Philosemitism and Antisemitism: Defenses of Jews and Judaism in Germany, 1871–1932 (Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 2004), 8. More work on Weber is due, especially on the eleven issues of Protestantische Zeitstimmen that he edited between 1881–1901. We are currently working on these volumes. 79 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, February 15/27, 1855, cited in Heidrun Brückner and Gabriele Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth: Briefe zum Petersburger Wörterbuch (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2007), 110. 80 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, January 16/28, 1864, cited in Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 447. 81 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, September, 10/22, 1862, cited in Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 488. 82 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, November 22/December 4, 1864, cited in Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 367. 83 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, December 31, 1855/January 12, 1856, cited in Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 147. 84 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, February 9/21, 1865 cited in Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 504. Whitney is the American Orientalist William Dwight Whitney (1827–94), a notorious anti-Semite, who studied with Weber in Berlin and Roth in Tübingen and thereafter became a vociferous proponent of German methods in Sanskrit studies. On Whitney’s anti-Semitism, see Stephen G. Alter, William Dwight Whitney and the Science of Language (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005), 242. And on his use of his German connections, see Douglas T. McGetchin,“The Whitney-Müller Conflict and Indo-German Connections,” in Mapping Channels Between Ganges and Rhein: German-Indian Cross-Cultural Relations, ed. Jörg Esleben, Christina Kraenzle and Sukanya Kulkarni (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008), 46–48. 21 Shylock [Schacherjude] that ever existed.”85 “Benfey recently replied to an acquaintance of mine in Göttingen, who asked how I am doing, as follows: ‘I have received his photograph and am to send him mine, but it is an expensive hobby; anyway, no photograph of mine exists. The friend sent me the photograph; he bought it from an art dealer. Jew!”86 Böhtlingk also confided in Roth: “His [Benfey’s] importunateness can be annoying.”87 Roth likewise advised the theologian Julius Grill (1840–1930): “It is better you not seek an acquaintance with Prof. Goldstücker. He is in a repugnant position against us in Germany. Formerly he was a Jew, has long since converted, but the inner man has remained a Jew.”88 Lassen wrote to Ewald: “Benfey has well deserved his correction. I only know his book from Gildemeister’s description and from what I know, his efforts in Sanskrit reveal as much impudence as ignorance. It would be desirable to counter, everywhere, the ill effects of the Jews, which have been multiplying in literature. It is truly a calamity. These people consider literature as a stock exchange where limitless trickeries are allowed and where one uses all possible devices in order to 85 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, June 9/21, 1853, cited in Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 42. 86 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, June 4/15, 1863, cited in Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 406. No scholar came off worse in Böhtlingk’s letters. Böhtlingk reported details from Benfey’s life (perhaps this was due to the fact that a friendship—of a sort—connected them). The following examples are typical: “Benfey appears deliberately to have cited so few works so that one regards him as an authority. I, however, do not believe a single word of his that is not attested elsewhere” (ibid., 74); “Schiefner [Anton von Schiefner (1817–1879), the Tibetologist from St. Petersburg], too, thinks that one must always hold the gentleman [Benfey] in check, otherwise he gets too cocky” (ibid., 305); “Like a chaste damsel, Benfey appears not to respond so far to the caresses in spite of all the incense that Goldstücker blows around him. Will he remain loyal?” (ibid., 305); “What do you think of the impression Benfey had on reading Goldstücker’s text? He is utterly and completely shaken up. Goldstücker after all always understood how to stroke him gently and thus win him over. Benfey is and remains a miserable creature”(ibid., 323); “I do not wish to enter into any closer association with Benfey” (ibid., 367); “One of Benfey’s daughters, who is a governess in Kurland, is quitting her position in April and asks that we find her one here. He has not sent us a photograph as yet, because one cannot make him handsome (a different expression is used) enough” (ibid., 377); “Schleicher [the comparative linguist August Schleicher (1821–68)] silenced Benfey with a few words. When people see that you also have weapons in your hand, they become more modest” (ibid., 484); “in the foreword [. . .] I speak about the relationship of one compact dictionary to our detailed dictionary and have occasion, without naming Benfey, to give him a proper beating, by remaining quite general” (ibid., 635); “Benfey will disgust us even in his old age with many absurdities. The addiction to saying something new and brilliant ruins him completely” (ibid., 640). (In contrast to the previous citations, these are not cited by letter, but solely by reference to page numbers in the Brückner/Zeller volume.) 87 Otto Böhtlingk, Letter to Rudolf von Roth, February 4/16, 1861, cited in Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 285. 88 Rudolf von Roth, Letter to Julius Grill, October, 24,1865, cited in Zeller, “Rudolf von Roth als Schüler, Lehrer und Gelehrter im Spiegel von Briefdokumenten,” 109. 22 achieve good speculation, that is to make money through deceit and lies.”89 After a negative review of the Petersburg Sanskrit dictionary, Roth lashed out at Goldstücker, calling him a “characterless Jew.” He insinuated that Goldstücker, “in the doglike manner of this people, [wished] to ingratiate himself where he expects profit and therefore barks at us.” “What I find especially offensive is the circumstance that this has nothing to do with England but with a German (that is, if Jews have a nationality at all other than a Jewish one in English pay).”90 In the twentieth century, even these slight gains were reversed as Jewish scholars found themselves the targets of explicit anti-Semitic campaigns.91 The Marburg Indologist Jakob Wilhelm Hauer (1881– 1962) hindered Otto Strauß’s appointment to the Marburg chair. He declared that the Marburg department “already had an abundant element of Semitic blood.”92 In 1935, he was able to gain the well-connected Vedicist Walther Wüst (1901–93) for his cause when he wrote “the decisive expert 89 Richard Fick and Götz von Selle, eds., Briefe an Ewald. Aus seinem Nachlaß (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1932), 159. Gildemeister is Johannes Gildemeister (1812–90), a theologian, Orientalist, and Lassen’s student. 90 Rudolf von Roth, Letter to Dwight D. Whitney, May 23, 1855, cited in Gabriele Zeller, “Der Dritte im Bunde: Albrecht Weber und das Petersburger Sanskrit-Wörterbuch,” in 200 Jahre Indienforschung: Geschichte(n), Netzwerke, Diskurse, ed. Heidrun Brückner (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2012), 111, n. 50. 91 Statistics on the number of Jewish students are unavailable. Indra Sengupta (From Salon to Discipline: State, University and Indology in Germany, 1821–1914, Beiträge zur Südasienforschung 198 [Würzburg, Germany: Ergon, 2005]) suggests that a majority would have come from a theological background, both Protestant and Catholic, but does not provide figures on the number of Jewish students. This may be due to the fact that German universities did not regularly maintain confessional records, a problem Richarz also notes. However, it is doubtful her observation “Jews were eight times more strongly represented among the students than Christians in relation to their share of the population” (Richarz, Der Eintritt der Juden in die akademischen Berufe, vii) holds true here: for reasons we saw, Jews would likely have not been drawn to this peculiarly Protestant profession. The first task must be to obtain reliable data on the number of Jewish students and professors in Indology (at least for the period immediately preceding World War II, when confession would have been recorded). Only then can we determine to what extent, if at all, German Indology took steps to either protect or rehabilitate them. 92 “Es würde wahrscheinlich außerordentlich schwer fallen, Strauß bei der Haltung der Fakultät in Marburg durchzusetzen, weil er Jude ist. Ich muß hier offen reden, um die Lage klar zu kennzeichen. Ich selbst bin ein scharfer Gegner des landläufigen Antisemitismus, aber ich kann es der Marburger Philosophischen Fakultät nicht verdenken, wenn sie sich gegen einen weiteren Juden wehrt, denn sie hat schon ein reichliches Element semitischen Blutes, und es bedeutet nach meiner Ansicht einen unnötigen Kampf heraufzubeschwören, wollte man versuchen, Strauß in Marburg durchzusetzen.” Jakob Wilhelm Hauer, Letter to Prof. Windelband, Ministry of Education and Culture, October 28, 1927, Nachlaß J. W. Hauer, Bundesarchiv Koblenz, vol. 12, fol. 391–94, cited in Horst Junginger, Von der philologischen zur völkischen Religionswissenschaft: Das Fach Religionswissenschaft an der Universität Tübingen von der Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts bis zum Ende des Dritten Reiches, Contubernium 51 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner, 1999), 183. 23 opinion for the Munich philosophy department” recommending Wüst to Hanns Oertel’s (1868– 1952) chair.93 “In addition to Wüst, Hauer asked other like-minded scholars such as Richard Schmidt (Münster), Herman Lommel (Frankfurt), and Bernhard Breloer (Berlin) to join the undertaking [sc. the reorganization of Indology along racial lines].”94 In a petition to Bernhard Rust, the influential head of the Reichsministerium für Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung (Reich’s Ministry for Science, Education, and Public Cultivation),95 Hauer argued, “It must cease that in Germany, as has been the case up to now, Jews play a role in Indology. [. . .] [E]ven with good philological, indeed, an abstract philological talent only someone of the same kind can interpret the Aryan or Indo-Aryan worldview.” 96 Richard Schmidt (1866–1939) likewise criticized the increasing “Semitization” of German Aryan researches.97 The Leipzig Indologist Johannes Hertel (1872–1955) divided “the 93 Horst Junginger, “From Buddha to Adolf Hitler: Walther Wüst and the Aryan Tradition,” in The Study of Religion under the Impact of Fascism, ed. Horst Junginger, Studies in the History of Religion 117 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2008), 149. 94 Ibid., 151. 95 This was the successor organization to the Preußisches Kulturministerium and thus, in a sense, an indicator of the continuity of state policy. Reichskultusminister Rust (1883–1945) took a direct interest in the functioning of the Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft (German Oriental Society). On the occasion of the VII. Deutscher Orientalistentag (Seventh Annual Congress of German Orientalists) he sent “his greetings” and “recalled as a Germanist that the Germanist August Wilhelm von Schlegel already recognized the great significance of Oriental studies over a hundred years ago and was the first scholar at Universität Bonn to conduct Oriental studies. Such congresses were fully in conformity with the interests of the Third Reich, which did not close itself off to the insight that only the proper fostering of the science of the Near and Far Orient could promote mutual understanding and a prosperous collaboration.” “Nachrichten über Angelegenheiten der D. M. Gesellschaft,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 88 (1934): 12. Rust’s ministry also contributed significantly to the Society’s finances: in 1940, 1200RM (the Auswärtiges Amt, German Foreign Office, provided a further 3375RM; this compares with membership contributions of 5738RM); in 1941, 1800RM (6375RM from the Auswärtiges Amt; membership contributions 5878RM); in 1942, 1800RM (1750RM from the Auswärtiges Amt; membership contributions 6472RM). Separate figures are not listed for 1939 and 1943, but in both years the Reichsministerium and Auswärtiges Amt are thanked for their financial support. See “Anlage 5: Übersicht über die Einnahmen und Ausgaben der DMG im Jahre 1940,” 13; “Anlage 4: Übersicht über die Einnahmen und Ausgaben der DMG im Jahre 1941,” 12; and “Anlage 4: Übersicht über die Einnahmen und Ausgaben der DMG im Jahre 1942,” 11. For 1939 and 1943 see “Anlage 4: Übersicht über die Einnahmen und Ausgaben der DMG im Jahre 1939,” 12 and “Anlage 4: Übersicht über die Einnahmen und Ausgaben der DMG im Jahre 1942,” 11 and 13. 96 Jakob Wilhelm Hauer, Nachlaß J. W. Hauer, Bundesarchiv Koblenz, vol. 141, fol. 21, cited in Junginger, “From Buddha to Adolf Hitler,” 152, n. 114. 97 Horst Junginger, “Das ‘Arische Seminar’ der Universität Tübingen, 1940–1945,” in Indienforschung im Zeitenwandel: Analysen und Dokumente zur Indologie und Religionswissenschaft in Tübingen, ed. Heidrun Brückner, Klaus Butzenberger, Angelika Malinar, and Gabriele Zeller (Tübingen, Germany: Attempto-Verlag, 2003), 176–207. Junginger cites 24 Indologists and Leipzig professors into Jews and non-Jews.” He declared that “the ‘half- and full-Jews’ [. . .] had not just complicated the understanding of Aryan texts; rather, they had consciously distorted it.”98 In a letter, he referred to Rektor Steindorff (the Egyptologist Georg Steindorff, 1861–1951) as a “baptized Jew” and “new Protestant.”99 Hertel also spoke of “Jews and Jew friends in the teaching body.”100 To the Germanist Georg Hüsing (1869–1930) he wrote: “It sounds like mockery to me that the new organization can still call itself the German Oriental Society [Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft]. The DMG has experienced firsthand the truth of the sentence: ‘Qui mange du Juif, en meurt.’ That thereby the local Jews and Jew friends also share the blame is clear, of course. No reconciliation is possible between the Berlin Jews and Jew friends [and me], and I will never sit at a table with them.”101 As Neubert notes, what is striking about Hertel’s anti-Semitism is that it was not expressed “‘only’ in the letters” but also crossed over into “a context that is significant both from the perspective of science and scientific policy, and this in a text that wishes itself to be scientific.”102 When Walter Ruben (1899–1982) reviewed his work critically in Indogermanische Forschungen,103 he wrote to Schmidt’s evaluation of Weller for the Leipzig chair as his source (Hauptstaatsarchiv Dresden 10230/57 [Besetzung des Lehrstuhls für indische Philologie, Nachfolge Hertel], fol. 15). 98 Frank Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff: Prozesse und Diskurse,” in 200 Jahre Indienforschung: Geschichte(n), Netzwerke, Diskurse, ed. Heidrun Brückner (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2012), 48. 99 Johannes Hertel, Letter to Eugen Hultzsch, April 16, 1924, Nachlass 271, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig, cited in Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 48, n. 14. 100 Johannes Hertel, Letter to Max Vasmer and Georg Cerullius, January 16, 1924, Nachlass 271, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig, cited in Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 48, n. 14. 101 Johannes Hertel, Letter to Georg Hüsing, June 9, 1924, Nachlass 271, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig, cited in Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 48 (emphasis in source). 102 Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 49. The reference is to Hertel’s unpublished manuscript, Die Semitisierung der arischen Quellen (The Semitization of the Aryan Sources), a work in which Hertel propounded: “in Veda and Avestan research [. . .] the Jews dominate [. . .] the latter possess a decisive influence over Aryan research even today, and, through their influence, have, at least for the time being, brought about the collapse of scientific Aryan research.” Johannes Hertel, Die Semitisierung der arischen Quellen, typewritten manuscript, Leipzig 1937, Nachlass 271, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig, cited in Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 49, n. 16 (all emphasis in Hertel’s text). 103 Walter Ruben, review of Die arische Feuerlehre and Die Methode der arischen Forschung, by Johannes Hertel, Indogermanische Forschungen 46, no. 1 (1928): 77–85. 25 Walter Porzig (1895–1961):104 “How was it possible that my book [. . .] was given to such a smug Jew brat [Judenbengel] to review, who has no idea of Avestan and knows of Vedic only what can be gleaned from dictionaries and published mythologies?”105 104 Walter Porzig studied comparative linguistics, classical philology, and Indology in Jena, Munich, and Leipzig, before being nominated to the Ordinariat in Bern in 1925. He was dismissed in 1935 for his national-socialist activities. See Rüdiger Schmitt, “Porzig, Walter,” in Neue Deutsche Biographie, vol. 20 (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2001), 645–46. 105 Johannes Hertel, Letter to Walter Porzig, June 5, 1928, Nachlass 271, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig, cited in Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 49, n. 19. In spite of Hertel’s manifest anti-Semitism, repeated efforts were made to rehabilitate him. These efforts began already with his colleague and successor Friedrich Weller (1889–1980), who attested, “Regarding Herr Professor Hertel as a person, I am convinced that he is an honest character. [. . .] Whether Herr Professor Hertel belonged to political associations or whether he was ever politically active I cannot say. With one exception I cannot say whether he was a member of any national-socialist organization such as the NSV, but this one exception is that Herr Professor Hertel was not a member of the NSDAP. Over the years Herr Professor Hertel repeatedly informed me that he had not joined this party. [. . .] Over all these years, and above all during the war years, Herr Professor Hertel expressed himself in many conversations with me in ever increasing degree and ever more passionately against Herr Hitler.” Hertel had never officially joined the party. But there could be no doubt about his views. He was a “founding member since 1919 in the Döbeln district chapter of the Deutsch-Nationalen Volkspartei (DNVBP), which at the beginning of the 1920s became one of the extreme right German parties and strongly radicalized its intially moderate anti-Semitism.” In a letter to Pastor Roth in 1933 he wrote, “although I am not a party member [. . .] I do belong since many years to Hitler’s voters and have also signed two academic calls to vote for him.” “In numerous letters not just to scientific funders and superiors Hertel described himself furthermore unambiguously as a National-Socialist and a supporter of Hitler’s from early on, ‘in whom he early on recognized Germany’s savior.’ He also repeatedly pointed out his signature of the call to vote for Hitler in 1933 and his regular contributions to nationalsocialist organizations.” His Personalakte contained an official statement that he had sworn an oath of loyalty to Hitler (“I swear: I will be loyal and obedient to the Führer of the German Reich and people, Adolf Hitler, follow the laws and conscientiously fulfill my official duties, so help me God”). Weller’s exoneration of Hertel was not surprising; he was a fellow Nazi and “a true follower of the movement” as Siegfried Koeppen, the powerful head of the Nationalsozialistischer Deutscher Dozentenbund (National-Socialist Professors Association) attested: “After his return from China in May 1933, Weller joined National-Socialism. He was a true follower of the movement and joined different sub-organizations of the party, NSV [Nationalsozialistische Volkswohlfahrt], Dozentenschaft, NSLB [Nationalsozialistische Lehrerbund]. He proved his national-socialist outlook [nationalsozialistische Gesinnung] through voluntary work in the NSV. As he heard in June of this year that the NSV had a shortage of local officers [Blockwarten] he offered his service to this organization and has worked since then as a local officer in the NSV. In response to a telephone query, the local group East B (Leipzig C. 1, Lindenstraße 8) of the NSV provided the information, that Weller performs his work as a local officer gladly and well and that he is greatly valued as a good comrade.” The Weller quote is in Friedrich Weller, Letter to the Dean of the Philosophical Faculty, Leipzig University, January 23, 1948, Universitätsarchiv Leipzig, Personalakte 1115 (Weller, Friedrich), fol. 61; see Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 48, n. 13; Johannes Hertel, Letter to Pastor Heinrich Roth, May 25, 1933, Nachlass 271, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig, cited in Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 46, n. 4; Neubert, “Johannes Hertel vs. Mathilde Ludendorff,” 50 (Neubert cites Johannes Hertel, Erwiderung auf den Schriftsatz I vom 29.04.1933 der Beklagten, 08.08.1933, Nachlass 271, Universitätsbibliothek Leipzig as his source); for the Hitler oath, see Johannes Hertel, Oath to the Führer, August 25, 1934, Universitätsarchiv Leipzig, Personalakte 0572 (Hertel, Johannes), fol. 40; Koeppen’s evaluation is in Siegfried Koeppen, “Gutachten über Professor Dr. Friedrich Weller,” September 11, 1936, Universitätsarchiv Leipzig, Personalakte 1115 (Weller, Friedrich), fol. 118. (All emphasis in the original sources.) 26 Lacking support among their colleagues, and facing the prospect of Berufsverbote (career bans), most Jews left or were edged out of Indology.106 Although definitive statistics are lacking, the evidence suggest that, by the 1940s, the purge of Jewish academics was complete.107 German Indology, always a sub-discipline of Protestant theology, entered into an even closer connection with the German state, now organized along explicitly racial and religious lines.108 106 Besides Hertel, Richard Schmidt (1866–1939), Jakob Wilhelm Hauer (1881–1962), Herman Lommel (1885– 1968), Bernhard Breloer (1894–1947), Walter Porzig (1895–1961), Ernst Waldschmidt (1897–1985), Erich Frauwallner (1898–1974), Friedrich Weller (1889–1980), Walther Wüst (1901–93), Ludwig Alsdorf (1904–78), and Paul Hacker (1913–79) were members of the Nazi party. Hertel, Weller, Emil Sieg (1866–1951), Walther Schubring (1881–1969), and Johannes Nobel (1887–1960) all signed the 1933 Bekenntnis der deutschen Professoren zu Adolf Hitler (Declaration of Allegiance of the German Professors to Adolf Hitler). Sheldon Pollock (“Deep Orientalism? Notes on Sanskrit and Power beyond the Raj,” in Orientalism and the Postcolonial Predicament: Perspectives on South Asia, ed. Carol A. Breckenridge and Peter van der Veer [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993], 76–113) cites NSDAP membership numbers for Schmidt, Hauer, Breloer, Frauwallner, and Alsdorf (ibid., 94). For the sake of completeness, here they are again, complemented by others that we have in the meantime been able to discover: Ludwig Alsdorf, NSDAP No. 2697931 (joined August 1, 1933), Bernhard Breloer, NSDAP No. 5846531 (May 1, 1937), SS Unterscharfführer, SS No. 230317 (June 26, 1933); Erich Frauwallner, NSDAP No. 1387121 (November 29, 1932); Jakob Wilhelm Hauer, SS Untersturmführer, SS No. 107179, NSDAP No. 50574, (May 1, 1937); Richard Schmidt, NSDAP No. 2492244 (June 1, 1933), SS-Obersturmführer. Paul Hacker, NSDAP No. 4612687 (May 1, 1937), SA Sturmmann; Ernst Waldschmidt, NSDAP No. unknown (May 1, 1937); Friedrich Weller, NSDAP No. unknown (May of 1933). 107 Lucian Scherman (1864–1946), Isidor Scheftelowitz (1875–1934), Betty Heimann (1888–1961), Walter Ruben (1899–1982), and Heinrich Zimmer (1890–1943) emigrated. Walter Neisser (1860–1941) took his own life, apparently in order to escape “the immediately expected deportation and certain death in a concentration camp.” Otto Stein (1893–1942) was interned in Łódź Ghetto. He and his wife Gertruda likely died on one of the notorious transports to a concentration camp. Moritz Spitzer (1900–1982) fled to the Palestine. Otto Strauß (1881–1940) died in exile in Bloemendaal, Netherlands. Nothing is known about the circumstances of Richard Simon’s (1865–1934) death in 1934. For the Neisser quote, see Rahul Peter Das, “Foreword,” in Walter Neisser, Kleine Schriften, Glasenapp-Stiftung, vol. 21 (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1980). On Otto, see Václav Petrbok, “Stein, Otto,” in Österreichisches Biographisches Lexikon 1815–1950, vol. 13 (Vienna: Austrian Academy of Sciences, 2010), 155 and Friedrich Wilhelm, “The Legacy of Otto Stein,” Annals of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute 68, no. 1/4, Ramakrishna Gopal Bhandarkar 150th Birth Anniversary Volume (1987): 621–25. 108 See the two telegrams the discipline’s official body, the Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft (DMG) sent to Hitler, which are important source texts for this. The first reads: “The German Orientalists gathered in Bonn on the occasion of the Eighth Congress of German Orientalists greet the Führer with reverence and gratitude. They promise to apply all their strength to tap the values of foreign cultures for the German people and to make them serviceable for our peoplehood.” The second, sent two years later (the society held its annual congress only every two years), reads: “The German Orientalists gathered in Bonn on the occasion of the Ninth Congress of German Orientalists think of the Führer with unwavering loyalty and gratitude. They promise to strive with all their strength to enhance German science for the sake of the salvation of the fatherland [Heil des Vaterlandes].” See “Nachrichten über Angelegenheiten der D. M. Gesellschaft,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 90 (1936): 5 and “Nachrichten über 27 Angelegenheiten der D. M. Gesellschaft,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 92 (1938): 3. The DMG also amended its bylaws in 1938 to restrict membership to citizens of the “Reich”; the two versions (from 1938 and 1940) are in: “Nachrichten über Angelegenheiten der D. M. Gesellschaft,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 92 (1938): 39 (“German nationals [deutsche Staatsangehörige] can only be members if they are citizens of the Reich [Reichsbürger] or are provisionally considered members of the Reich”) and “Nachrichten über Angelegenheiten der D. M. Gesellschaft,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 94 (1940): 8 (“German nationals [deutsche Staatsangehörige] can only be members of the society if they are citizens of the Reich [Reichsbürger] or are provisionally considered members of the Reich or if they by descent fulfill the conditions for attaining citizenship of the Reich”). Since the Reichsbürgergesetz of 1935 (officially, the Reichsbürgergesetz und Gesetz zum Schutze des deutschen Blutes und der deutschen Ehre and inofficially the Nuremberg Laws) divided Germans into two classes of citizenship, “Staatsangehörige” (someone who had obtained citizenship according to “the regulations of the Reichs- und Staatsangehörigkeitsgesetzes” of 1913, though also “especially obliged to the state for this”) and “Reichsbürger” (“a citizen of German or racially related blood [artverwandten Blutes]”), the DMG’s bylaws clearly targeted Jewish members. And see also “Nachrichten über Angelegenheiten der D. M. Gesellschaft,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 96 (1942): 13–15: The next congress, an “Arbeitstagung” (working congress), was opened by Walther Wüst at the Reichsminister für Wissenschaft, Erziehung und Volksbildung Paul Ritterbusch’s (1900–1945) suggestion. Helmuth Scheel (1895–1967), the society’s “first secretary,” was the organizer. The congress stood under the sign of Ritterbusch’s campaign “Kriegseinsatz der Wissenschaften” (application of the sciences in war or making the sciences serviceable for war), also known as the “Aktion Ritterbusch.” Erich Frauwallner’s contribution “Die Bedeutung der indischen Philosophie” (The Significance of Indian Philosophy) in the same volume provides an example of what “making the sciences serviceable for war” meant for German Indology. Frauwallner notes, “If we now ask ourselves how this remarkable similarity [of development] between European and Indian philosophy can be explained, we find that the explanation for it must be sought in the identical racially conditioned predisposition [found in the two cultures]. The following especially speaks for this. The most important transformation that the Indian nation experienced in the course of its history and which led to the formation of Hinduism is convincingly traced back to racial causes and accounted for with the absorbtion of the stream of Aryan immigrants into the aboriginal population. Since we can now demonstrate a parallel process in Indian philosophy, specifically in the pushing back of the ancient classical systems by the Viṣṇuite and Śaivaite systems of the later period, and it is furthermore evident that the most remarkable correspondences with European philosophy, above all the methodological scientific character, are features of the older period, whose bearers we, on the basis of the general development, hold the Aryan immigrants to be, the racially conditioned nature of these correspondences can be considered secure. Indian philosophy thereby enters into a new light and gains greater significance for us too. Not only does it represent the richtest and most important philosophical development outside of Europe; it can also, as the typical creation of an Aryan people, lay a claim to special interest. And when we today consider it as one of the most important tasks of science [Wissenschaft] to establish and work out the intellectual typology [Artbild] of the different peoples and races and above all of the Indo-Germanic peoples, then Indian philosophy in particular with its rich material will be able to contribute valuable [insights].” Erich Frauwallner, “Die Bedeutung der indischen Philosophie [in “Bericht über die Arbeitstagung der Deutschen Orientalisten und der Deutschen Orientalistischen Archäologen”],” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 96 (1942): 42. 28 Jews and Hindus in the Nineteenth Century One Lord, one faith, one baptism . . . —Ephesians 4:5 Jewish scholars had taken advantage of the educational opportunities the newly liberalized universities offered them.109 They had entered a discipline that, at least according to its self-understanding, was an Enlightenment science, committed to the principle of freedom from orthodoxy. It was a discipline that, as we saw, critiqued Brahmanism for its perceived injustices. Yet it was no less exclusionary. Although they had studied alongside their Protestant colleagues, even inculcating their antiBrahmanism, they found they would always be considered less than equals.110 Rather than a scholarly undertaking, German Indology resembled a social hierarchy in which well-connected orthodox 109 The Enlightenment universities of Halle and Göttingen permitted Jews to enroll within a year of their foundation (1695 in Halle and 1735 in Göttingen). Most universities in north Germany followed in the early eighteenth century, with universities in the Rhineland and Bavaria bringing up the rear. See Richarz, Der Eintritt der Juden in die akademischen Berufe, 29. 110 Goldstücker’s comments on the Brahmans, cited earlier, provide the best evidence for this. But anti-Brahmanism was not restricted to Goldstücker alone. Even Benfey, the Göttingen scholar who suffered the most under his peers’ antiJudaism, accepted the Protestant narrative of Brahmans as priests who enslaved the population. According to him, “In the further development of Indian life after their settlement in India, the Brahmans gained the upper hand, probably as a consequence of several battles, of which there appear to be some indications in the Indian myths; they attained the peak of all social life in India. From this point onwards—which, however, we cannot as yet historically determine—the character of the Indian cultural development had to gradually change externally. The Brahmans, greedy to secure the dominance they had attained, sought gradually to unite the entire quantum of intelligence in their corporate body and to let the remaining people have a share in it only so far as it was necessary to pursue their immediate life aims—which were strictly delineated and made hereditary by the caste system and, given the existing order concerning mixing of castes, could never be one that led to elevation from the position assigned one, but only to a further degradation. Thus gradually by far the greatest proportion of the people was excluded from the common development of Indian cultural life. Literary manifestations, whose vehicle Sanskrit was, withdrew into the groves and huts of the Brahmans and the still vital spirit of the people was repressed and had to throw itself into other pursuits.” Benfey, Kleinere Schriften, 20. Benfey also compared Buddhism with Protestantism, and praised “occidental” scholarship for throwing “Indian tradition” “over board”: “Nonetheless occidental criticism and combination did not shy from the attempt to press forward in this slippery field to firm ground, and there can be no doubt that concerning many of the relevant points a more or less satisfactory certainty or high degree of probability has been attained. But if we look more closely, this has almost consistently only happened because the Indian tradition was thrown over board [. . .]. Merely what Buddhism—if it is permitted to compare the small with the great—in a certain sense, the Protestantism of India, has handed down contains a little more historical truth, albeit it too is not quite free from the spirit of exaggeration and untrustworthiness, which are heightened in the Brahmanic statements to lies and deception” (ibid., 279). Was Benfey aware that he was rehearsing well-worn criticisms of the halakhic tradition? 29 Protestants like Albrecht Weber occupied the apex, conservative professors like Richard von Garbe formed the second rank, Pietists and members of revivalist movements like Jakob Wilhelm Hauer the third, while assimilated Jews and Hindus brought up the rear. 111 If Goldstücker and Benfey nonetheless entered Indology, it was because, in nineteenth-century Germany, education was one of the few paths to social advancement available to Jews. As Richarz notes, “The significance that a command of High German and the attainment of general education must have for social assimilation became clear here for the first time. In a social perspective, the individual ‘educated’ [‘cultivated’] Jew could, as a scholar or a participant in a salon, now become an equal partner.”112 Nonetheless, a clear discrepancy existed: whereas Protestants, and to an extent Catholics too, in this social hierarchy could count on admittance in virtue of their group identity, for Jews the situation was precisely reversed.113 “The state and society were more inclined to emancipate the individual ‘educated’ [Jew] than the 111 On Albrecht Weber, see Asko Parpola, “Publications of the Great Indologist Fr. Albrecht Weber,” in Remota Relata: Essays on the History of Oriental Studies in Honour of Harry Halén, ed. Juha Janhunen and Asko Parpola, Studia Orientalia 97 (Helsinki: Finnish Oriental Society, 2003), 189–219; on Richard Garbe Angelika Malinar, “‘Kṣatriya-Glaube’ und ‘Opferwesen’: Richard Garbe und die indischen Religionen,” in Indienforschung im Zeitenwandel: Analysen und Dokumente zur Indologie und Religionswissenschaft in Tübingen, ed. Heidrun Brückner, Klaus Butzenberger, Angelika Malinar, and Gabriele Zeller (Tübingen: Attempto Verlag, 2003), 119–43; on J. W. Hauer Ulrich Hufnagel, “Religionswissenschaft und indische Religionsgeschichte in den Arbeiten Jacob Wilhelm Hauers: Wissenschaftskonzept und politische Orientierung,” in Indienforschung im Zeitenwandel: Analysen und Dokumente zur Indologie und Religionswissenschaft in Tübingen, ed. Heidrun Brückner, Klaus Butzenberger, Angelika Malinar, and Gabriele Zeller (Tübingen, Germany: Attempto Verlag, 2003), 145–74. 112 Richarz, Der Eintritt der Juden in die akademischen Berufe, 7. The reference is to Moses Mendelssohn (1729–86), the first Jew to move unrestrictedly among the Enlightenment literati. 113 On the Jews’ social situation in Prussia see Marion Schulte, Über die bürgerlichen Verhältnisse der Juden in Preußen (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2014). The chapters in Irene A. Diekmann, ed., Das Emanzipationsedikt von 1812 in Preußen: Der lange Weg der Juden zu „Einländern“ und „preußischen Staatsbürgern“ (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2013) discuss aspects of the edict of 1812, the first step on the long road towards full citizenship for the Jews (1869 in the Norddeutscher Bund and 1872 in the newly unified Kaiserreich). See especially the article by Werner Treß, “Die Bestimmungen im Paragrafen 8 des Emanzipationsedikts in Preußen bezüglich der Erlangung akademischer Lehrämter durch jüdische Wissenschaftler,” 219–36. Treß shows that the notion of a “modern principle of achievement, ignoring status and origin” (Leistungsprinzip) and the “demonstration of [this] achievement” (Leistungsnachweis) through an examination were never realized in practice (ibid., 219). In many ways, German academia still preserves its character of an elite hierarchy, which mainly takes care of the children of the Bildungsbürgertum. In Indology’s case, this imbalance was further exacerbated by a colonial and racist legacy (see next section), which meant that qualified Indians had poorer chances than their lessknowledgeable German peers. 30 Jewish minority per se. [. . .] The idea of cultural assimilation as an achievement that had to necessarily be demonstrated in advance found many adherents among the Jews themselves.”114 This discrepancy significantly explains Indology’s development. In fact, it holds the key to the university’s normative influence, which it exercised on Jews and Hindus alike. Richarz shows in brilliant detail how Jewish students’ entry into the university system was the crucial event that catalyzed Jewish reform movements and, ultimately, led to the breaking apart of the unity of “nation, religion, and culture” characteristic of Judaism.115 Three points from her analysis are important for us here: 1. The social consequences of enhanced scrutiny, which manifested as self-alienation, loss of social cohesion, and self-policing.116 2. The pragmatic considerations, which spoke against granting emancipation Jews as a group.117 114 Richarz, Der Eintritt der Juden in die akademischen Berufe, 14. 115 See ibid., 1–14, 82, 150–57, and 160. 116 See ibid., 157: “Students from the Jewish upper class strove early on to deny their Jewishness in that they avoided interaction with their fellow believers. [. . .] The striving for social recognization from their environment was strongly pronounced among Jewish students as a rising group, whereas the sense of connection between them disappeared”; 159: “Society only accepted Jews who acted as non ‘Jewish’ as possible. Thus interaction with Christians remained largely free, whereas due to an acquired sense of inferiority, assimilated Jews were constantly preoccupied with avoiding everything specifically Jewish”; and 163: “Due to the large number of conversions, Jewish students overall represented a completely open group, whose members avoided contact with their peers with increasing assimilation. Members of the group construed the criteria of belonging to the group overwhelmingly negatively, since their common Jewish heritage primarily signified a burden under the dominant laws.” 117 See ibid., 159: “In spite of the interaction between Jewish and Christian students, Jews were always interpreted in social life as lone educated individuals, but where a real recognition of their equal rights was at stake, academics in particular often regarded them as not ‘socially acceptable’ [standesgemäß] and attempted to protect their own class group from the infiltration of such upstarts”; 170: “The nationally motivated rejection of Jews in public office often concealed a fear of new competitors for the limited number of positions, since a strong discrepancy between the increasing numbers of university graduates and the relatively low number of higher public offices existed in the Vormärz period”; 170–71: “Not infrequently, in addition to the motives mentioned, moral reservations against permitting Jews to hold public office were also expressed. Many argued from the Enlightenment teaching of the Jews’ ethical corruption as a result of centuries of repression that emancipation could only occur step by step in keeping with the measure of the worth of the individual concerned, whereby it practically attained the character of a reward for the assimilation achieved”; 171: “The moral disqualification of Jews frequently reappeared in professors’ evaluations regarding the admittance of Jewish lecturers and served as proof of how little Jews were ‘socially acceptable’ as academic teachers”; and 206: “Governments and universities in Germany exerted a public pressure to convert on Jews who sought the Habilitation from 1810 onwards, which—as shown—had less to do with religious than social reasons. As ‘socially 31 3. The ambiguous situation in which Jewish intellectuals found themselves having distanced themselves from their own tradition.118 In the Indian case, similar examples of self-alienation, loss of social cohesion, and self-policing can be observed. The Western-educated Ramkrishna Gopal Bhandarkar (1837–1925) 119 declared that unacceptable’ competitors, Jews were to be kept as far as possible from the professorship, which carried increasing social prestige.” 118 Ibid., 219: “With the progress of cultural assimilation, the shaking up the traditional Jewish education system, and the decline of Talmudic knowledge the respect and authority of the rabbis sunk so far that a new Jewish educated elite could advance to a leadership position, an elite that, since it was strongly oriented towards non-Jewish culture, was initially recognized more by its Christian peers than by the Jews”; 221: “The secularization of the Jewish educational ideal occurred much faster than the profanization of Christian education since the beginning of the modern period. At the time Jews entered German culture, the latter had attained an epoch of its greatest development so that art and science absorbed many Jews to the extent that they completely surrendered their own tradition. Their pursuit of contemporary education was matched on the other side by a tremendous loss of Jewish knowledge. [. . .] With the extensive abandonment of the law, the loss of Jewish national consciousness, and growing emancipation the feeling of solidarity also disappeared among the assimilated”; 221: “Although academics could assimilate intellectually, they thereby isolated themselves in many respects from the other Jews, without, on the other hand, being accepted by Christian academics as class equals. They thus became socially free-floating existences, who sought self-realization increasingly in literary and political activity.” 119 Bhandarkar studied in Pune under the German scholars Martin Haug (1827–76) and Franz Kielhorn (1840–1908). See R. N. Dandekar, “Ramakrishna Gopal Bhandarkar and the Academic Renaissance in Maharashtra,” Annals of the Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute 69, no. 1/4 (1988): 283–94. Dandekar notes that apart from his earliest years, all of Bhandarkar’s schooling occurred in English-medium institutions: the English School, Ratnagiri from 1847; Elphinstone College after 1854; while the matriculation, BA, and MA examinations were all from the newly founded University of Bombay (in 1859, 1862, and 1864 respectively). Deshpande describes him as “the first fully modern Indian professor, who did not come from a Pandit background, and acquired Sanskrit through institutions like the Deccan College.” Madhav M. Deshpande, “Pandit and Professor: Transformations in the 19th Century Maharashtra,” in The Pandit: Traditional Scholarship in India, ed. Axel Michaels (Delhi: Manohar, 2001), 134–35. F. W. (Frederick William) Thomas (1867–1956) provides a rundown of Bhandarkar’s achievements (in “Sir Ramkrishna Gopal Bhandarkar, M.A., Hon. Ph.D., K.C.I.E.,” The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 4 [October 1925]: 815–19. “During 1864-8 he served as Headmaster of High Schools. He was then called to succeed Bühler as Professor of Sanskrit in Elphinstone College (1869–81), after which he was transferred to the Deccan College, Poona, as Professor of Oriental Languages (1882–93) in succession to Kielhorn. During two years (1893–4) he was Vice-Chancellor of the Bombay University. He then retired, at the age of 55, from Government service. In connexion with Lord Curzon’s educational plans he was called in 1903 to the Viceroy’s Legislative Council, and from 1904-8 he represented the Bombay University upon the Legislative Council of the Province. He attended the Orientalist Congresses of 1874 and 1886, and of the second of these he contributed to the Bombay Society’s Journal his impressions—an elaborate appreciation. His honorary distinctions include the Honorary Membership of this Society (1885), and of the sister societies in Germany (1887) and America (1887); the Fellowship of the Calcutta University (1887); the membership of the French Institute; the Hon. LL.D. of the Bombay University; and the Hon. Ph.D. of Gottingen and Calcutta; the CLE. (1889), and K.C.I.E. (1911)” (ibid., 818). 32 “Europe is far ahead of [the Indians] in all that constitutes civilization.”120 The “experimental sciences and the sciences that depend on the critical, comparative, and historical method have made very great progress in Europe, and [. . . ] are every day making further and further progress.”121 In his view, these developments demonstrated “the activity of the European intellect.” European civilization was characterized by “the principle of progress.” Bhandarkar argued that whereas the Europeans had “placed before [the Indians] a whole civilization, which undoubtedly is far superior to [theirs] in a great many points,” the Indians had not made full use of these opportunities. He urged his audience to cultivate the “critical and comparative faculty” with similar “energy” and to use it to find “not only [. . .] what is true in science, but [also] what is good and rational in social and religious institutions.” He chastised them for not responding to the civilizatory “impulse” of Western civilization. In his view, the Indians’ “new literature [was] scanty and barren of any original idea and [they were] still quarreling about female education, caste, and religion.”122 Addressing his “Hindu friends in particular,” 123 Bhandarkar declared that he felt himself “in duty bound, even at the risk of displeasing [them]” to point out that “the most uncritical spirit ha[d] come over [them] of praising [themselves] and [their] ancestors indiscriminately, seeing nothing but good in [their] institutions and in [their] ancient literature, asserting that the ancient Hindus had made very great progress in all the sciences, physical, 120 R. G. Bhandarkar, “The Critical, Comparative, and Historical Method of Inquiry as Applied to Sanskrit Scholarship and Philology and Indian Archeology [1888],” in Collected Works of Sir R. G. Bhandarkar, vol. 1, ed. Narayana Bapuji Utgikar and Vasudeva Gopal Paranjpe (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1933), 390. The text was originally published as Ramkrishna G. Bhandarkar, The Critical, Comparative, and Hisorical Method of Inquiry, as Applied to Sanskrit Scholarship and Philology and Indian Archaeology, Being a Lecture Read at a Public Meeting Held under the Auspices of the Free Church College Literary Society of Bombay on the 31st of March, 1888 (Bombay: Nirṇaya-Sâgara Press, 1888). We cite from the reprint edition throughout. 121 Bhandarkar, “The Critical, Comparative, and Historical Method of Inquiry [1888],” 390. 122 Ibid., 391. 123 Bhandarkar’s address was delivered at a meeting of the Free Church College Literary Society in 1888. Thus the audience would have been composed of both Hindus and Christians (and possibly others minorities as well, though this is speculative). We know little of these gatherings, though they appear to have been quite common at one time. S. Modak (S. Modak, Directory of Protestant Indian Christians, vol. 1 [Ahmednagar: Printed for the author at the Bombay Education Society’s Steam Press, 1900]) lists, besides the Free Church College Literary Society, the Baldwin Literary Society, the Christian College Literary Society, the Christian Literature Society for India, and the Pursewalkum Christian Literary Society. The number goes up even further if we include “Book Societies.” Robert Frykenberg (in Robert Eric Frykenberg, Christianity in India: From Beginnings to the Present [Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2008]) discusses the functioning of the Madras Literary Society as well as the Hindu Literary Society. 33 moral, and social, and the arts,—greater even by far than Europe ha[d] made hitherto.” Urging them to acknowledge the “obvious deficiencies in [their] literature, such as the absence of satisfactory historical records, and [their] most obvious defects,” he declared that “as long as this spirit exist[ed] in [them],” the Indians could “never hope to be able to throw light on [their] ancient history, and on the excellencies and defects of [their] race, and never hope to rise.”124 Bhandarkar’s writings also manifest a significant loss of social cohesion as well as self- (and other-) policing. It is not always possible to separate these aspects, for, as Christian Wiese shows, the pressure to acculturate implies a corresponding withdrawal from one of the double terms of identity, and this in turn can lead to censorship of the elements of one’s identity found dissonant.125 But we can make a formal distinction between Bhandarkar’s explicitly political statements on the issue of selfgovernment and his judgments concerning the Indian character. 126 The latter, especially when 124 Bhandarkar, “The Critical, Comparative, and Historical Method of Inquiry [1888],” 392. 125 “Beginning in the nineteenth century, the danger was intensified by denominalization, which had reduced Judaism to a large extent to its religious dimension, as opposed to the pre-emancipatory unity of nation, culture, and religion, and thus the national element in particular appeared only as a historical souvenir. This was expressed by the self-conception of most Jews who defined themselves as German citizens of Jewish faith. Judaism was to be understood parallel to Protestantism and Catholicism, as a ‘denomination’ that did not represent an obstacle to the civic focus and attitude of its supporters. Yet, along with the absolute desire for integration and a strong national feeling, this designation, with its emphasis on loyalty to ancestral belief, included an element that did not comply with the expectations of the environment. It implied a double obligation toward Germanness and Judaism, which had become problematic since the unification of the ‘Second Reich’ and had to be defended against the demands to dissolve Judaism in the society understood as ‘Christian.’ Indeed, in the long run, the ethnic dimension of Judaism also turned out to be resistant, since it could not seriously be asserted that Judaism represented merely a religious belief. However, the clearer the latter was emphasized, the more secularization threatened the maintenance of a specific Jewish identity, since, granted the ‘denominational’ self-conception of German Jewry, a Jew’s religious indifference could make his loyalty to Judaism appear altogether obsolete.” Christian Wiese, Challenging Colonial Discourse: Jewish Studies and Protestant Theology in Wilhelmine Germany, trans. Barbara Harshav and Christian Wiese (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 2005), 58–59. 126 Bhandarkar’s most important reflections on the former are contained in R. G. Bhandarkar, “My Visit to the Vienna Oriental Congress [1887],” in Collected Works of Sir R. G. Bhandarkar, vol. 1, ed. Narayana Bapuji Utgikar and Vasudeva Gopal Paranjpe (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1933), 332–60. He also addresses the topic in R. G. Bhandarkar, “Convocation Address [1894],” in Collected Works of Sir R. G. Bhandarkar, vol. 1, ed. Narayana Bapuji Utgikar and Vasudeva Gopal Paranjpe (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1933), 427–52. For the latter, see his “Convocation Address [1894],” “Rejoinder to Mr. Justice Ranade [1894],” “The Ends and Aims of College Education [1893],” and “The Ideal of an Indian Scholar [1893]” in Collected Works of Sir R. G. Bhandarkar, vol. 1, ed. Narayana Bapuji Utgikar and Vasudeva Gopal Paranjpe (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1933), 427– 52, 453–60, 461–75, and 476–79. 34 addressed to a student body, like the “The Ends and Aims of College Education” of 1893 (delivered on the occasion of the Deccan College’s inauguration of its new building) and the “Convocation Address” of 1894 (delivered in his capacity as Vice-Chancellor of Bombay University), clearly had a strong disciplinary function.127 They were intended to remind the Indians of their lower social, cultural, and intellectual status, and hence the need to model themselves on the Europeans. In Bhandarkar’s opinion, Indians demonstrated “a lamentable want of serious thought” and “childishness.” They were “divided into castes and communities [sic] that have not yet learnt to make common cause with each other.”128 The Hindus especially were “unable to bear the strain which 127 To the works cited in the preceding note, we may also add the works Bhandarkar authored as President of the All India Oriental Conference: R. G. Bhandarkar, “Presidential Address at the Opening Session of the First Oriental Congress of India, held at Poona on the 5th of November 1919 [1919],” “Inaugural Address at the B. O. R. Institute [1918],” and “The Mahābhārata [1919],” in Collected Works of Sir R. G. Bhandarkar, vol. 1, ed. Narayana Bapuji Utgikar and Vasudeva Gopal Paranjpe (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1933), 316–31, 416–21, and 422–26. The text “Lines for Fresh Research in Sanskrit Literature and Indian Antiquities,” in Collected Works of Sir R. G. Bhandarkar, vol. 1, ed. Narayana Bapuji Utgikar and Vasudeva Gopal Paranjpe (Poona: Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute, 1933), 394–415 was delivered to the Free Church College Literary Society in 1905 and thus falls outside both Bhandarkar’s vice-chancellorship (1893–94) and his presidency (1918–19). 128 This passage is also the most important statement of Bhandarkar’s political views towards the paramount power, Britain. It is therefore cite here in full (for more examples see n. 138 later). “Notions such as these were present in my mind during the time I was in Europe; but after a while I asked myself, what it was that I wished? Should I like that the English had never conquered the country? I at once said, ‘No.’ For, as I had already observed to my friend we really were not free under the old native monarchs. Under them there was no possibility of our having any idea of the European civilization which I so admire, there was hardly much security of life and property, and there was little possibility of a man travelling from one province to another without being looted. And we should in that case have had no post-office or roads or railways or electric telegraphs or printing presses; and above all, that education which has now opened our eyes to our own defects, and given birth to new aspirations. And how was it possible that they should not subjugate the country when it was in the lowest state of political degradation, with selfishness reigning supreme, rival competitors for thrones or for power intriguing against each other and asking their aid, and the people at large maintaining their traditional indifference? Would I then wish that the English voluntarily retired from the country—for driving them away was out of the question—and left us to govern ourselves? Even here I had no hesitation in saying ‘No.’ If they should retire, we should immediately return to the old state of things. For though we talk about public spirit, public duty, nationality, and things of that sort, these ideas have not deeply sunk into our nature. Self-interest is as strong a motive with us as it ever was before. There is a lamentable want of serious thought amongst us. Childishness is rampant everywhere. We are divided into castes and communties [sic] that have not yet learnt to make common cause with each other. We still want that energy and those orderly modes of action, and that power of organization, which are necessary in order that we may progress in civilization; and we shall only lose the ground which we have gained under the British, and shall be unable to form a strong Government; and all the benefits of a higher civilization that we at present enjoy will be lost to us. I believe it to be an act of Divine Providence that the English alone of all the candidates who appeared about the same time for the empire of India should have succeeded. [. . .] Reflections such as these quieted me, and I was content that the English should rule over us, notwithstanding that there are very few Sanskrit scholars among them.” Bhandarkar, “My Visit to the Vienna Oriental Congress [1887],” 357–58. 35 higher education and subsequent active life [had] impose[d] upon them and [therefore were] d[ying] off.”129 Bhandarkar warned his audience that they had “now come in contact with an energetic race, able to sustain a great deal of continuous and hard exertion, and possessed of habits of punctuality and regularity,” whereas the Indians had “not yet acquired those habits, and [their] indigenous modes of work [were] more leisurely.” 130 They were unfit for political independence. 131 The purpose of 129 His explanation for this was as follows: “A Parsi enjoys life much better than a Hindu, uses nourishing food, goes through a greater amount of physical exercise, and does not, as a general rule, marry very early. Neither does a Parsi girl enter upon the married condition until she is mature. It must then be that, because these conditions are wanting in the case of the Hindus, so many of them comparatively are unable to bear the strain which higher education and subsequent active life impose upon them and die off. The food used by most of our Hindus, if not all, is hardly nourishing, they have no liking for physical exercise, do not know how to enjoy life, and marry very early and the health of their wives is in a shattered condition on account of early maternity. Reform in this direction is, therefore, the only way to avert the evil” (Bhandarkar, “Convocation Address [1894],” 430–31). 130 Ibid., 431. 131 See ibid., 434: “Thus a young man goes out into the world and finds the English constitution spoken of. He sees how the people themselves govern the country and their wishes triumph over those of the men above them in the social scale, and conceives a liking for it, aspires after it, and wishes for its introduction into his own country. But he little knows that such a constitution as that implies masses of men being inspired with certain ideas and moving towards their realization, and to work it certain mental and moral habits are required with it takes hundreds of years to acquire, and certain social arrangements which are the growth of centuries. The English constitution of the present day would not have suited the English of the times of the Wars of the Roses. It did not spring up then. It is, therefore, not possible that it will suit India, which in its social arrangements and in its political, economic, and other ideas greatly resembles Europe in or about the end of the ‘Middle Ages.’ It is by an intelligent study of the history of England alone that a student can know what social changes must take place, what a transformation of ideas and sentiments there must be, what trials and sufferings must be gone through and how a nation’s character should be formed under those trials and sufferings, before it becomes fit for such political institutions as those which prevail at present”; ibid., 445: “National independence you can have only when there is a nation and it has the capacity of governing itself. But when the inhabitants of a country are divided into a number of separate communities or castes hostile to each other, national independence can only mean the possession of one community or one caste of power over others, which it must, of course, use for its own benefit and to the detriment of others. And when the country has never had in the course of its history a training in free or representative institutions or never been animated with a desire for them or had even a conception of them, national independence must mean the tyranny of one man over all others”; ibid., 446–47: “But I have already pointed out what national independence can only mean in the case of a country divided into communities and castes in chronic hostility with each other and unused to, or unacquainted with, free institutions. An Indian patriot must recognize the great forces in operation in the world. Asia is being divided among themselves by three great European Powers, and in the contest, from the character and peculiar civilization of its people, Asia is nowhere. We ought to consider ourselves peculiarly fortunate in having fallen into the hands of a nation that has a conscience. England would be ashamed of herself if she held India solely for the purpose of her own aggrandizement. She has consciously undertaken the function of civilizing India, and of this our University is one of the many evidence available”; and ibid., 447: A wise Indian patriot, therefore, will take pride in the fact that this country forms a very important member of the Empire over which the sun never sets, and that India is one of the brightest jewels, if not the brightest, in the British Crown. The glories of that Empire he should regard as his glories and its misfortunes to be his misfortunes. We are the inhabitants of Greater Britain, i.e., of the larger section of Britain, the 36 education for “an educated native” was to “continue through his life to take interest in the great subjects of knowledge which occupy the attention of man.” He was to “go on closely watching the progress of ideas in Europe, where, of course, there is greater movement of thought than in our country.” Bhandarkar declared: “He will forfeit his claim to be considered a man of culture, if he chooses to be ignorant of what the progressive nations of the West are thinking, doing and admiring.” Yet for all that a native could not expect political emancipation: that would be “to misunderstand and misapply European ideas.”132 In Bhandarkar’s view, Indians constantly spoke of “the idea of selfrespect, personal independence, national independence, liberty of speech, and patriotism,” but “a good many of [them did] not understand their proper limitations.” He admonished the students: “Self-respect and personal independence” could not “degenerate into disrespect for others, and want of reverence for those who, by their position, knowledge or even age, deserve[d] it from [them]. [. . .] Liberty of speech and all kinds of liberty [had] their limits.”133 They could not “speak what [they] like[d] or act as [they] like[d] simply because [they were] free or possess[ed] liberty.”134 Bhandarkar also claimed that the Indians had developed a false notion of patriotism. They took pride in their traditions, but this was the patriotism of “feeble minds.” True patriotism consisted in recognizing the flaws in one’s own tradition.135 In parts of the country, “a false race-pride ha[d] sprung up.” Instead of smaller section of which is situated in North-Western Europe; and our political patriotism should centre itself round that name. Therein lies our salvation.” 132 Ibid., 444. 133 Ibid., 444–45. 134 Ibid., 445. 135 See ibid., 446: “The idea of patriotism, which is constantly brought up before our minds by English literature and history, is in the same manner liable to be very greatly misunderstood and misapplied. One may think patriotism requires him to hate foreigners because they are foreigners, to run down their manners, customs, and institutions, to attribute vices to them which they do not possess, and deny their most manifest virtues and all the good that they actually do. On the other hand it may be considered to consist in praising one’s ancestors and one’s own people, admiring their manners, customs and institutions, and denying their manifest failings and the patent defects of their character. This is the patriotism of feeble minds incapable of thought and action. And eventually it resolves itself into a confirmed enmity for one’s own people. For if people do not see the good that there is in foreigners, they are incapable of learning; if they do not see their own serious faults and defects and the evil that there is in their manners, customs, and institutions, there can be no improvement, no progress; and the nation must lag behind while others are going on, and must suffer. He only is a true patriot who, with an unprejudiced mind and with the light that God has vouchsafed to him, examines the manners, customs, and institutions of his country and the character of his people, fearlessly exposes the abuses or evils he may find 37 realizing the manifold deficiencies of their culture, “many young men” were claiming, when confronted with “a good idea in European literature or philosophy,” “that the idea is not foreign to [Indian] literature and philosophy and that it [had] dawned upon [their] ancestors centuries ago.” Bhandarkar asked his audience “to reflect whether this assumption that all that [was theirs was] good and that [their] ancestors were omniscient [could] be beneficial to [them] in any way.” “That it [was] perfectly untrue [was] plain even to a child if its mind [was] not enslaved.” If Indians “obstinately” persisted in this belief, “the civilisation of Europe [would] exercise no influence upon [them],”136 and they would “be what [they had always] been—a dormant or dead community.” A student “therefore” had the duty “to divest himself of this false belief and keep his mind open to the influence which European thought [could not] but exercise in the natural course of things.”137 It is not necessary that we trace further examples of Bhandarkar’s colonization.138 It is clear that his writings attest to a deeply colonized mind—one that could not view Western colonialism objectively, therein, and earnestly calls upon them to reform and improve even at the risk of offending them and being stoned by them.” 136 Compare Weber’s “the ethical and religious decadence that dominates large parts of India today was only gradually beginning to give way to a new life under the galvanizing force of European civilization” (Weber, “Brâhmanismus,” 7). Even if Bhandarkar was not aware of this exact source, the general direction of his thought is clear. 137 Bhandarkar, “The Ends and Aims of College Education [1893],” 472. 138 For more examples see ibid., 466: “And there is another object of education which, though incidental, is by no means less important than those to which I have called your attention. In the College we are introduced to a civilization and a system of thought which are greatly different from our own. [. . .] The effect of such education, therefore, as is given to Young Indians in Colleges such as this ought to be to enable them to compare the manners, the customs, the ideas and the institutions of the flourishing communities of Europe with our own; and to find out the evil that there may be in the latter; and to create in us a desire to eradicate it. Though incidental, I consider this to be a very important effect of the education we receive. For, unless the evil that there is in our society is in the first place perceived and then removed, there can be no hope that we shall ever rise. [. . .] If a man honestly compares the condition of our society with that of any European nation such as the English, he cannot fail to realize that there is much evil in it from which the other is free. And to declare, notwithstanding, that it is in every way good and requires no change is to cut off all hope of rise”; ibid., 467: “But often times a doubt crosses my mind and I am reminded of the lesson that the Great Sepoy Revolt of 1857 taught us. On that occasion about 50,000 native soldiers revolted against the British Government and threw off the authority of their commanding officers. These soldiers were disciplined by the British. When they were led against powerful native Princes and chiefs, they achieved invariable success. Even if they had been led against a European foe it is not impossible that they would have been similarly successful. But all this they did, disciplined as they were, only when commanded by British Officers. As soon as they freed themselves from their authority, their discipline stood them in no stead, they became a mob, and were cut to pieces by a handful of British soldiers and in some cases even by civilians. [. . .] 38 and, instead, subscribed to the narrative of Western supremacy that underwrote and legitimated the colonial project.139 But two points concerning this colonization are important to understand the transfer of authority that occurred between the Brahmans and the German Indologists in the nineteenth century: 1. Many Indians cut off from their tradition and seeking validation in a historical narrative of origins came to view the Germans rather than the British as the normative ideal.140 They My doubt therefore is this. May not the good qualities we educated people show when in position of power and trust be due to our continuing to be under British influence as much as to our education? And this doubt is strengthened by the manner in which these same educated natives often conduct themselves when employed in native states. And generally, whether a love of truth and probity, a sense of duty and fearless independence, are in many cases the prominent characteristics of our educated mind, is too more than questionable”; ibid., 475: “And it is thus that you will be able to derive advantage from the dispensation of Providence in virtue of which we have been brought into connection with one of the foremost races of Europe, and improve your moral, social, economic and political condition. In this way alone you will be able to raise your fallen country, and enable it to take its place in the community of nations”; and ibid., 479: “We are unselfish enough where help is claimed by individual distress; but, being devoid of the sort of corporate consciousness thus described, our actions in political matters are guided on the whole by selfish and individual interests. When this is the case, it is inevitable that there should he [sic] factions instead of parties, and that personal preferences and animosities should assert themselves and public interests be lost sight of. As long as such a state of things lasts, representative government would be an evil and not a boon. And I conclude by advising you that before asking for any political privileges, you should impartially examine whether you are fit for it, whether, in fact, there is any probability of your using it to the lasting benefit of your country.” 139 Compare Arendt’s infinitely more sophisticated account in Origins (“The new desire for profit-at-any-price converged for the first time with the old fortune hunt. Prospectors, adventurers, and the scum of the big cities emigrated to the Dark Continent along with capital from industrially developed countries. From now on, the mob, begotten by the monstrous accumulation of capital, accompanied its begetter on those voyages of discovery where nothing was discovered but new possibilities for investment. The owners of superfluous wealth were the only men who could use the superfluous men who came from the four corners of the earth. Together they established the first paradise of parasites whose lifeblood was gold. Imperialism, the product of superfluous money and superfluous men, began its startling career by producing the most superfluous and unreal goods”; Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism [New York: Meridian, 1962], 153) or Weber’s in The Protestant Ethic, which links the development of modern capitalism to the anxiety over salvation Calvin’s doctrine of election triggers, or almost any theoretical economist writing today. The irony is that for all that Bhandarkar advocated the “historical” method, his own work was barely historical. He was completely ignorant not only of the history of ideas but also any wider issues in history. His advocacy of the “historical” method was limited to reminding the Indians of their inferiority vis-à-vis the Westerners. His work thus provided the complement to the German Indologists’, for whom the “historical” method had become a catchphrase to affirm their superiority over the Indians. 140 Bhandarkar again offers the best testimony. Thus, although he recognized British excellence in several fields; intellectually, it was the Germans, with their dedication to Sanskrit, their organization, and their historical, critical, and comparative methods, who most impressed him. Let us read him on each of these three points: “As I belonged to the Aryan Section I witnessed the proceedings of its meetings only. I will therefore confine myself to an account of them. Our President was Prof. Roth of Tübingen and Vice-President, Prof. Weber. Among the members who attend were Dr. Rost of the India Office; Professors Bühler of Vienna, Kielhorn of Göttingen, Ludwig of Prague, Jacobi of Kiel, 39 regarded the British as materialists, interested solely in India’s economic exploitation, whereas the Germans held out the promise of a spiritual appreciation of ancient India’s glory.141 Leumann of Strasburg, Kühn of Munich, Jolly of Wurzburg, and Windisch of Leipzig; Drs. Hoernle of Calcutta, Cartellieri of Vienna, Macdonell of Oxford, and Stein of Buda-Pest; and Messrs. Bendall of the British Museum, Grierson, a Bengal civilian, and McAuliffe, a Panjab civilian, and Capt. Temple. [. . .] Prof. Max Müller did not come on account of the unfortunate occurrence I have already mentioned, and the other scholars conspicuous by their absence to me, at least, were Professors Oldenberg of Vienna, Aufrecht of Bonn, Kern of Leyden, Eggeling of Edinburgh, and Dr. Böhtlingk of Jena” (Bhandarkar, “My Visit to the Vienna Oriental Congress [1894],” 341–42); “They [Europeans] have successfully treated the affinity of the Sanskrit with the ancient languages of Europe, classified the languages of the civilized world on a scientific principle, and the races that speak them, shown that the Aryans of India, composed of the three castes, Brahman, Kṣatriya and Vaiśya, belong to the same race as the ancient Greeks and Romans and the nations of modern Europe, except the Turks, the Hungarians, and the Fins, penetrated into the secret of the formation of human speech and the growth of myths, and constituted the science of language and comparative mythology”(ibid., 347–48); “They have collected manuscripts from all parts of India, and from Nepal, Ceylon, Burma, and Siam; and the Government of India has been assisting their effort by instituting an archeological survey and search for Manuscripts. They have examined the Vedas carefully, and traced out a great many facts concerning the original history and condition of the Indian Aryans, and compiled dictionaries, concordances, and grammars. The Mahābhārata, Rāmāyaṇa, some of the Purāṇas, and the law books, as well as the dramatical literature, have been subjected to a similar examination. Buddhism, the memory of which has faded away in Indian, has again been brought to our notice; and its sacred texts, Manuscripts of which are nowhere now found in India, have been rendered available to us. In this work of study and research, the Germans, of all the nations of Europe, have been the foremost. Most of the great achievements I have briefly indicated above are due to their patient industry and critical acumen” (ibid., 348, italics added); “We have had one great French scholar, and there are now two or three. Englishmen first of all discovered Sanskrit, as was of course to be expected from the fact of India’s having fallen into their hands, and we have had first-class English scholars, such as Colebrooke and Wilson. But somehow Sanskrit and philological studies have not found a congenial soil in the British Isles. While there are at present twenty-five German scholars at least who have been working in the different branches of Sanskrit literature and have published something, we have not more than five among Englishmen. England employs Germans in connection with her philological work. The best Sanskrit scholar in the country is a German, and the Professor of Sanskrit at Edinburgh and the philological Librarian of the India office are Germans. There is a German in charge of Manuscripts in the British Museum and the Assistant Librarian at the Bodleian is a Hungarian” (ibid,. 348– 49); “The great excellence of German scholarship consists in the spirit of criticism and comparison that is brought to bear on the facts that come under observation, and in the endeavour made to trace the gradual development of thought and language and to determine the chronological relations of events” (ibid., 349). 141 This was, of course, a narrative the Germans did much to encourage. Besides the passages collected in n. 153, the writings of German travelers to India like Hermann Dalton (1833–1913), Paul Deussen (1845–1919), and Kurt Boeck (1855–1933) offer important testimony for this. For examples see Perry Myers, “German travelers to India at the fin-desiècle and their ambivalent views of the Raj,” in Transcultural Encounters between Germany and India: Kindred Spirits in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, ed. Joanne Miyang Cho, Eric Kurlander, and Douglas T. McGetchin, Routledge Studies in the Modern History of Asia 90 (New York: Routledge, 2014), 84–98. Joanne Miyang Cho discusses the views of Graf Hermann Keyserling (1880–1946), who undertook a Weltreise to Ceylon, India, China, and Japan in 1911 (see Joanne Miyang Cho, “Cross-cultural transfer and Indophilia in Count Hermann Keyserling,” in Transcultural Encounters between Germany and India: Kindred Spirits in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, ed. Joanne Miyang Cho, Eric Kurlander, and Douglas T. McGetchin, Routledge Studies in the Modern History of Asia 90 [New York: Routledge, 2014], 115–28). 40 2. This mutual admiration, however, cannot solely explain the transfer of authority from the Brahmans to the German Indologists, since the Indians could conceivably have admired the Germans, and yet seen them as a distinct nation or race with its own traditions and history. How was it possible to see them not as a distinct culture, but as related to India through a law of succession? Here is where we must consider the role of Christian supersessionism, itself mediated by German historicism. Although Bhandarkar expressed a general alienation from his own tradition, he singled out one group of Europeans more than any other for approbation. In his report from the Seventh International Orientalist Congress (held in 1887 in Vienna), he characterized the Germans as the successors to Indian antiquity. Arriving on the first day, he felt himself reminded of the mythical court of King Janaka (see Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 3.1.1).142 In his words, the “sight of so many men from different 142 The Vienna Congress was by all accounts a grand affair. According to the secretary’s report, “His Imperial and Royal Highness the Archduke Rainier was Patron, and Baron von Kremer President, with a strong Committee of Management. The meetings were held in the hall and lecture rooms of the magnificent new University. Hospitality was shown to the foreign members by the Archduke, the Minister of Public Instruction, the Municipality, and the Committee of Management.” “Notes of the Quarter (September, October, November),” The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, n.s., 19, no. 1 (January 1887): 157–89. Bhandarkar himself records that “the Archduke in a short speech declared the Congress open, after which the Minister of Public Instruction rose and welcomed the members of the Congress in the name of the Government. He was followed by the President, Baron Kremer, who delivered a long address in French. Then the leaders of the different deputations rose one after another and made a few observations, and those who had brought presents for the Congress laid them on the table. [. . .] On Monday, or the first day, an evening party was given by the Minister of Public Instruction. Besides the members of the Congress there were other distinguished guests, among whom was the British Ambassador, Sir Augustus Paget. On Wednesday, a sumptuous entertainment was given in the afternoon by the Burgomaster in the large banqueting hall of the Rathhaus. The Rathhaus or Townhall is an extensive and noble building round which the learned guests were taken, previous to their being led into the banqueting hall. Refreshments were laid on the table, and the best available music provided for the occasion. In the evening of the same day, there was a reception at the residence of Archduke Rainer. There was an unlimited supply of the best Viennese sweetmeats, and tea, coffee, and ices. A good many persons, including myself, were introduced to the Archduke and the Duchess, who spoke a few words to them in German, French, or English. On Thursday, a grand dinner was given in the evening by the Committee of organization, and there were toasts and postprandial speeches as usual. In the afternoon of Friday, the members of the Congress were taken in river-steamboats by the Danube canal and by a special train up a hill in the vicinity called Kahlenburg, the view from which is splendid. The whole city of Vienna lay at our feet at a short distance, and with hillson the sides, the scene was charming. We spent about an hour at the place and returned home a little after sunset” (Bhandarkar, “My Visit to the Vienna Oriental Congress [1894],” 341 and 345). It was as such an attendee of Viennese galas that Bhandarkar started to look down upon the Indians. 41 parts of Germany and Europe who had chosen a life of study and thought, and who applied themselves with such devotion and zeal to the study of the sacred language of [his] country” reminded him “of the old Ṛṣis of India, who cared little for worldly possessions, and devoted themselves to a life of study and meditation.”143 Asked as the sole Indian and moreover a learned brāhmaṇa to recite in the traditional style, he spontaneously composed verses comparing the assembled dignitaries to the ancient Vedic seers. Thus “Aśvala; the priest of Janaka, had assumed the form of Bühler, Yājñavalkya appeared as Weber and Roth, and Śākala as Kielhorn. Kahoḍa manifested himself as Jolly; and the remaining Ṛṣis as Ludwig, Rost, Jacobi, and the rest. There was a Viennese lady who attended the meetings of our section [. . .]. She was our Gārgī Vācaknavī. Such a compliment, I thought, these European scholars, and especially the Germans, deserved.”144 Bhandarkar later wrote that he thought “this body of holy and learned Ṛṣis, adored by gods and men, that had assembled in Mithilā [. . .] had risen up again at Vienna, the capital of the Emperor of Austria, to dispel the darkness that had 143 Bhandarkar, “My Visit to the Vienna Oriental Congress [1894],” 346. 144 Ibid., 347. The verses themselves are printed on page 361 (“Verses Dedicated to the Aryan Section of the Vienna Oriental Congress”). “That brotherhood is always victorious in this world which is related to humanity, through which these are continuously making efforts in the matters of understanding the language/s, knowledge, and arts of the oriental ones who by their own nature differ extremely from each other; and when they meet each other they enable (the other) to understand with proper words. Having seen all these famous scholars of countries in various directions gathered in Vienna, the capital of the King of Austria who is the crest jewel of the crown of kings, I remember that auspicious group of the brahmajñānī ṛṣis who resorted to great city Mithilā in the Aśvamedha sacrifice of Janaka and who are adored by the best gods. Aśvala is here in the form of Bühler. Weber and Roth are similar to Yājñavalkya. Kielhorn becomes Śākala and the one who is Jolly here is Kahoḍa. The lady Iḍā, whose raison d’être is the great scribe? of the texts appers to me as if Gārgī Vācaknavī. / I consider those having Ludwig, Roth, Jacobi, etc., as the main one as the respective ṛṣis; all of them interested in (finding) the truth, following the śrutis and smṛtis and having their goal fixed to knowledge or realization only. I apprehend that this group of compassionate munis is present here to remove from all sides the darkness caused by the influence of Tiṣyayuga. Having crossed mountains, forests and oceans, I, the poor creature, have reached this congress. May we and also our countries be bound to each other with the bonds of love. I ask from you, who have shown your respect to the residents of the Āryavarta and also to their wisdom, similar pure friendliness towards me too. May such congress be arranged for friendship among the countries, end of battles, and for the welfare of mankind.” 42 overspread the earth in this sinful age of Kali, out of pity for man.”145 “The Germans,” he wrote, “are the Brahmans of Europe, the French the Kṣatriyas, and the English the Vaiśyas,”146 thus placing the Germans at the apex of the civilized nations of Europe.147 Little wonder then that he advised the natives, “sitting at the feet of the English, French, and [especially the] German Ṛishis,” to “imbibe the knowledge that they ha[d] to give.” If they did “not do so,” he predicted, “fifteen centuries hence, the antiquarian of the period [would], unlike Weber, say, ‘the English placed before the Indian Aryas the highest civilization which Europe had reached by the end of the nineteenth century; but in the hot plains of India the Indian Aryas had grown so degenerate, that it produced no influence whatever on them, and their degeneracy deepening, they eventually became hewers of wood and drawers of water, or were swept off the face of the earth by the inexorable law of the survival of the fittest.’”148 145 Bhandarkar, “My Visit to the Vienna Oriental Congress [1894],” 347. 146 Ibid., 349. 147 This was, of course, the status the Germans had most desired, ever since they displaced Roman-Latinate culture from its position of authority in the Reformation. Doug McGetchin argues that the German interest in India was always strongly motivated by its sense of rivalry with the French. In his view, “ Germans wanted to remove themselves from French cultural influence, and they turned for inspiration to ancient India, a society they believed could rival the splendor of France’s classical Roman heritage.” “German scholars enthusiastically promoted the idea of uniquely strong linguistic ties between German and Sanskrit, a language they argued predated Greek or Latin. Thus they strove to establish a cultural superiority over Greco-Roman civilization and its French inheritors. Statesmen such as Wilhelm von Humboldt, who took up the study of Sanskrit, convinced the Prussian state to fund professorial chairs of study in ancient Indian studies as a counter to contemporary French cultural hegemony. Thus Indology was a part of German Bildung and Kultur to counter the influence of French Zivilisation” (McGetchin, Indology, Indomania, and Orientalism, 18 and 21). 148 Bhandarkar, “The Critical, Comparative, and Historical Method of Inquiry [1888],” 393. 43 Brahmans and Neo-Brahmans in the Twentieth Century But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation. . . —1 Peter 2:9 The contrasting fates of Protestant and Jewish intellectuals in nineteenth-century Indology provide the most compelling evidence that, rather than a rational, secular discipline, German Indology is a paradigmatic example of what Max Weber called a “status group.” Though permeable, it was so only to the smallest degree and thus, in some respects, closer to what Weber called “caste.”149 A Protestant elite controlled the field. It controlled not only all appointments in the field; it also controlled access to education. This elite was characterized by strong in-group dynamics, including intermarriage and a legal monopoly of certain offices.150 An opaque system of recommendations kept all power within the hands of the elite. Although theoretically the state acting on the faculty’s advice made appointments, in practice a small coterie controlled them. Prominent scholars could use their social connections to place their protégés. 149 Max Weber, “India: The Brahman and the Castes,” in Essays in Sociology, trans. H. H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills (London and New York: Routledge, 2009), 405–9. 150 “For all practical purposes, stratification by status goes hand in hand with a monopolization of ideal and material goods or opportunities, in a manner we have come to know as typical. Besides the specific status honor, which always rests upon distance and exclusiveness, we find all sorts of material monopolies. Such honorific preferences may consist of the privilege of wearing certain costumes, of eating special dishes taboo to others, and of carrying arms—which is most obvious in its consequences—the right to pursue certain non-professional dilettante artistic practices, e.g., to play certain musical instruments. Of course, material monopolies provide the most effective motives for the exclusiveness of a status group; although, in themselves, they are rarely sufficient, almost always they come into play to some extent. Within a status circle there is the question of intermarriage: the interest of the families in the monopolization of potential bridegrooms is at least of equal importance and is parallel to the interest in the monopolization of daughters. The daughters of the circle must be provided for. With an increased closure of the status group, the conventional preferential opportunities for special employment grow into a legal monopoly of special offices for the members. Certain goods become objects for monopolization by status groups. In the typical fashion these include ‘entailed estates’ and frequently also the possession of serfs or bondsmen and, finally, special trades. This monopolization occurs positively when the status group is exclusively entitled to own and manage them; and negatively when, in order to maintain its specific way of life, the status group must not own and manage them.” Max Weber, “Class, Status, Party,” in Essays in Sociology, trans. H. H. Gerth and C. Wright Mills (London and New York: Routledge, 2009), 190–91. 44 Backroom deals were not uncommon.151 Above all, German Indology’s Protestant elite controlled preferment, since, as we saw, they alone determined when members of an excluded group could be moved from the traditional/unenlightened to the critical/enlightened column.152 The complex web of ingroup and outgroup dynamics, the rejection of utilitarian ends for “higher values,” and the disavowal of something as base as economic motivations all correspond to Weber’s analysis of a status group.153 They reveal Indology, not as a science, but as a status group organized 151 Indra Sengupta (“State, University, and Indology: The Politics of the Chair of Indology at German Universities in the Nineteenth Century,” in Sanskrit and “Orientalism”: Indology and Comparative Linguistics in Germany, 1750–1958, ed. Douglas T. McGetchin, Peter K. J. Park, and Damodar SarDesai [Delhi: Manohar, 2004], 271–305) discusses the Berufung (nomination) process at the universities of Berlin, Bonn, and Tübingen. Sengupta notes that “academic appointments in Indology in the Althoff era [Friedrich Theodor Altoff (1839–1908), the powerful Ministerialdirektor in the Prussian educational ministry] came to be marked by secret, private ‘deals’ and negotiations with the Kultusministerium, usually behind the back of the faculty and its recommendations” (ibid., 295). 152 Typically, this social elevation would be granted in return for an extended period of service, often requiring special proofs of loyalty (for example, a hagiography, collaboration, or translation of a German work). As a means of social control, this privilege was so effective that even traditional pandits often found a German degree inescapable. 153 For a discussion of how German Indologists viewed their work, especially in a comparative perspective, see the instructive chapter 3 in McGetchin, Indology, Indomania, and Orientalism, 55–75. And see the statements by August Wilhelm Schlegel (1767–1845), Leopold von Schroeder (1851–1920), and Ludwig Alsdorf, which give some sense of their “idealist” aspirations: “Should the English assert a monopoly on Indian literature? It will be too late. The cinnamon and cloves can remain theirs; [but] these spiritual treasures are the common possession of the learned world” (August W. Schlegel, “Ueber den gegenwärtigen Zustand der Indischen Philologie,” Jahrbuch der Preußischen Rhein-Universität 1 (1819): 238); “Gladly we leave the English the possession of India, but we see all the cultured nations of Europe striving in noble competition to raise up its rich cultural treasures” (Leopold von Schroeder, “Indiens geistige Bedeutung für Europa,” in Reden und Aufsätze vornehmlich über Indiens Literatur und Kultur [Leipzig: Haessel, 1913], 167); “While England for two hundred years carried off India’s material treasures and, in the first place, financed the expansion of its empire with them, Germany was satisfied with India’s spiritual treasures, but for all that helped excavate and renew them with all the more success” (Ludwig Alsdorf, Deutsch-Indische Geistesbeziehungen [Heidelberg, Berlin, and Magdeburg: Kurt Vowinckel, 1942], 2). In all three cases, the contrast with the alleged materialism of the British is instructive. Weber’s analysis of the “work taboo” can be found in Weber, “Class, Status, Party,” 191–94. Two passages are worth quoting here: “Quite generally, among privileged status groups there is a status disqualification that operates against the performance of common physical labor. [. . .] Very frequently every rational economic pursuit, and especially ‘entrepreneurial activity,’ is looked upon as a disqualification of status. Artistic and literary activity is also considered as degrading work as soon as it is exploited for income, or at least when it is connected with hard physical exertion” (ibid., 191) and “We have seen above that the market and its processes ‘knows no personal distinctions’: ‘functional’ interests dominate it. It knows nothing of ‘honor.’ The status order means precisely the reverse, viz.: stratification in terms of ‘honor’ and of styles of life peculiar to status groups as such. If mere economic acquisition and naked economic power still bearing the stigma of its extra-status origin could bestow upon anyone who has won it the same honor as those who are interested in status by virtue of style of life claim for themselves, the status order would be threatened at its very root. This is the more so as, given equality of status honor, property per se represents an addition even if it is not overtly 45 around the principles of honor and class markers. Indology also fulfilled the two other characteristics of status groups besides “closing character” that Weber identifies: “submission to style” and the invention of “characteristics and badges.”154 Weber’s analysis thus permits us to understand why acknowledged to be such. Yet if such economic acquisition and power gave the agent any honor at all, his wealth would result in his attaining more honor than those who successfully claim honor by virtue of style of life. Therefore all groups having interests in the status order react with special sharpness precisely against the pretensions of purely economic acquisition. In most cases they react the more vigorously the more they feel themselves threatened” (ibid., 192). 154 Weber, “Class, Status, Party,” 188. For the former, Wilhelm Rau, Bilder 135 deutscher Indologen, 2nd ed. GlasenappStiftung 23 (Stuttgart: Fritz Steiner, 1982) and see also the biographies of Indologists in Valentina Stache-Rosen, German Indologists: Biographies of Scholars in Indian Studies Writing in German (New Delhi: Max Müller Bhavan, 1981); 2nd rev. ed. by Agnes Stache-Weiske (New Delhi: Max Müller Bhavan, 1990). For the latter, the best example is the foundation of the Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft itself, which, in its first year of foundation (1845), admitted three diplomats and the naturalist Alexander von Humboldt as Ehrenmitglieder (honorary members) to the society. In its 171 years of existence, the DMG has admitted a prime minister (Mirza Hossein Khan Ala, 29.08.1934), an education minister (Mirza Ali Asghar Khan Hekmat, 29.08.1934), a foreign minister (Wolde Selassie Blattengueta Herouy, 1928), a colonial officer and poet (Sir Alfred Comyn Lyall, 1894), a jurist (Johann Paul Freiherr von Falkenstein, 1871), a baronet and university rector (Sir Alexander Grant, 1869), an Ottoman governer (Subhi Pasha [a.k.a. Subhi Bey], 1863), an officer of the East India Company (William H. Sykes, 1855), and a diplomat and general (Anton Graf von ProkeschOsten, 01.10.1847). The desire to associate with nobility is evident. Further examples include the pursuit of knighthoods and titles. Albrecht Weber was knighted in 1864. Rudolf von Roth became a member of the Order of the Württemberg Crown in 1872 (Ritterkreuz first class in 1872 and Kommenturkreuz in 1891). Ernst Windisch (1844– 1918) was a knight of the Königlicher Sächsischer Verdienstorden (first class) and a commander of the Albrechts-Orden (second class). Richard von Garbe was elevated to a life peerage in 1909. Franz Bopp (1842), Christian Lassen (1857), Friedrich Max Müller (1874), Otto von Böhtlingk (1876), Albrecht Weber (1897), and Heinrich Lüders (1924) were recipients of the Ordens Pour le Mérite für Wissenschaften und Künste (dates indicate the year of award). Roth combined his role as Stiftsinspektor of the Tübingen Seminary with the offices of dean (1856–66) and rector (1866 and 1867) of Tübingen University. Adolf Friedrich Stenzler (1807–87), Albert Grünwedel (1856–1935), Hermann Jacobi (1850– 1937), Theodor Zachariae (1851–1934), Eugen Hultzsch (1857–1927), and Ernst Windisch, Otto von Böhtlingk, and Heinrich Lüders were appointed Geheimräte (Geheimrat, a position equivalent to a privy councillor); Max Müller to Her Majesty’s Privy Council. More examples could doubtless be found. Even the politics of membership in one of the prestigious scientific academies of the various German cities and states indicates a concern with social rank and privilege. Roth, for example, was simultaneously a member of the Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen, the Preußische Akademie der Wissenschaften, the Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, the Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, and the Russische Akademie der Wissenschaften. According to his biographer, he also “possessed a number of major decorations, both German and foreign.” Böhtlingk was likewise a member of the Sächsischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, the Preußische Akademie der Wissenschaften, and the Russische Akademie der Wissenschaften. In contrast, the hapless Benfey struggled for years to gain membership of the St. Petersburg and Göttingen academies (he finally succeeded in becoming a member of the Göttingen academy in 1864 over Heinrich Ewald’s objections, though membership of the St. Petersburg academy eluded him). Julius Jolly (1849–1932), Hermann Günther Graßmann (1809–77), Max Müller, Theodor Aufrecht, and Ernst Windisch all received honorary doctorates: Jolly from Göttingen and Oxford, Graßmann from Tübingen, Müller from Dublin and Edinburgh, Aufrecht from Edinburgh and Cambridge, and Windisch from Leipzig. In at least one case (Graßmann), we know the award was due to the efforts of a fellow Indologist (Roth), confirming our thesis of Indology as a status group characterized by ingroup dynamics. Finally, we may cite two other examples of the creation of “characteristics and badges”: foundations like the Helmuth von Glasenapp-Stiftung created in 1964 to fund publication of the Indologists’ Kleine Schriften or collected 46 German Indologists had to attack the Brahmans. As he shows, status honor is fundamentally “usurped” from other groups. “The development of status is essentially a question of stratification resting upon usurpation. Such usurpation is the normal origin of all status honor. But the road from this purely conventional situation to a legal privilege, positive or negative, is easily traveled as soon as a certain stratification of the social order has in fact been ‘lived in’ and has achieved stability by virtue of a stable distribution of economic power.”155 We can now understand why, apart from its latent anti- essays and the Stiftung Ernst Waldschmidt created in 1968 to fund the Indologists’ monographs; and prizes like the Friedrich-Weller-Preis awarded to “scientists in the fields in which Friedrich Weller was active [. . .] in recognition of outstanding work primarily on the history, art, literature, languages, philosophy, and religion of India, China, and Buddhist Central Asia” (since 1985) and the Ernst-Waldschmidt-Preis for “scientifically valuable contributions in the field of Indology, especially in Waldschmidt’s areas of specialization (Buddhism, Indian and Central Asian archaeology and art)” (since 1988). In all these ways, then, German Indology constituted a status group. On the DMG’s founding, see “Vorwort,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 1 (1847): iii–vi; and “Nachrichten über Angelegenheiten der D. M. Gesellschaft,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 1 (1847): 502–505. For a list of honorary members of the DMG, see: http://www.dmg-web.de/?page=17 (accessed on November 9, 2016). For the biographer’s quote, see Richard von Garbe, “Roth, Rudolf,” in Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, vol. 53 (Leipzig: Duncker & Humblot, 1907), 564. More information on Roth is available in Ulrich Nanko, “Zur Geschichte des Lehrstuhls für Indologie und Vergleichende Religionswissenschaft an der Universität Tübingen, 1848–1945,” in Indienforschung im Zeitenwandel: Analysen und Dokumente zur Indologie und Religionswissenschaft in Tübingen, ed. Heidrun Brückner, Klaus Butzenberger, Angelika Malinar, and Gabriele Zeller (Tübingen, Germany: Attempto Verlag, 2003), 63–74. On Benfey’s struggles see Brückner and Zeller, eds., Otto Böhtlingk an Rudolf Roth, 265, 277, 285, 364, 378, and 441; and see Aufgebauer, “Judentaufen im Umfeld der Göttinger Universität,” 208 for Ewald’s objections. For Roth’s role in Graßmann’s honorary doctorate, see Karin Reich, “Über die Ehrenpromotion Hermann Graßmanns an der Universität Tübingen im Jahre 1876,” in Hermann Graßmann—Werk und Wirkung. Internationale Fachtagung anläßlich des 150. Jahrestages des ersten Erscheinens der ‘linealen Ausdehnungslehre’, ed. Peter Schreiber (Greifswald: Universität Greifswald, 1995), 59–63. For the Glasenapp-Stiftung’s publications, see: http://www.glasenappstiftung.de/publikationen.html (accessed on November 9, 2016). The Stiftung Ernst Waldschmidt’s monographs are listed under: http://www.stiftung-ernst-waldschmidt.de/monographienreihe/(accessed on November 9, 2016). Quotations are from http://www.stiftung-ernst-waldschmidt.de/ernst-waldschmidt-preis/ and https://www.sawleipzig.de/de/ausschreibungen/preise/Friedrich-Weller-Preis (both accessed on November 9, 2016). The recipients of the prize have been mainly German scholars (for a list, see here: https://www.sawleipzig.de/de/ausschreibungen/preise/Friedrich-Weller-Preis; accessed on November 25, 2016) with one notable exception: Wendy Doniger, who received the 2016 prize. 155 Weber, “Class, Status, Party,” 188. In Indology’s case, the path from a conventional situation to a legal privilege was traversed as soon as a Western degree became a requirement for Indian scholars. Once this occurred, what had previously been a conventional situation, reflecting the exigencies of the hiring process (it was easier to hire the least unacceptable locally available Sanskrit teacher than to send a committee to India) became a legal monopoly: those with PhD degrees and only those with PhD degrees were qualified to speak for the Indian tradition, especially insofar as they presented “critical” scholarship on it. Native scholars, even the most well-qualified, were simultaneously delegitimated, or rather, in order to survive they had to integrate themselves into the new hierarchy. The experience of pandits such as Vishnushastri Chiplunkar, Lokmānya Balagangadhara Tilak, Shridhar Ganesh Jinsiwale, and others shows that many 47 Semitism, anti-Brahmanism became a key feature of Indology. As the texts’ traditional guardians and interpreters, the Brahmans themselves constituted a privileged group. They were in fact a separate status group existing alongside the Indologists. As such, they could only continue to exist as long as a strict ethnic separation was maintained between the Indologists and them. Yet once the Indologists began to undo this separation through their ethnographic researches (that is, by subsuming the Indians under the common ethnicity of the Aryan or Indo-Germanic “race”), mutual coexistence became impossible.156 One of the two status groups had to integrate the other, which it could only do through becoming a “caste.”157 Let us read Weber’s analysis of how a status group is transformed into a caste: indeed drew this conclusion. We owe this information to Deshpande’s excellent and informative “Pandit and Professor,” 119–53. 156 The best source for German Indology’s role in fabricating the Aryan myth is Adluri and Bagchee, The Nay Science, chapters 1–2. Arvidsson does not cover the Indological sources (see Stefan Arvidsson, Aryan Idols: Indo-European Mythology as Ideology and Science, trans. Sonia Wichmann [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006]). He discusses the work of Christian Lassen and Friedrich Wilhelm Schlegel, but the book lacks references to Richard von Garbe, Hermann Oldenberg, Erich Frauwallner, and many others, who also cultivated the Aryan myth. We cannot agree with Pascale Rabault-Feuerhahn that Indologists’ philological science accidentally led to racial anthropology. In her view, by “drawing from comparativism and displaying more and more ambitious objectives—such as the restitution of an immemorial past to Europe in general and Germany in particular” and “giving themselves up to the enthusiasm of reconquering the origins, Indologists entered into a process which was hard to control and which, in fact, soon overwhelmed them. The adoption of a strategy where comparativism was the keystone of their works unintentionally contributed to discrediting the study of India in the strictest sense. The notion of ‘Indo-European’ people that henceforth attracted general attention became uncontrollable and with the spreading of comparatist paradigms to larger audiences, it took on a racial dimension that Indologists generally rejected, most of them advocating a culturalist approach to language rather than a biological one” (Rabault-Feuerhahn, Archives of Origins, 268). Rabault-Feuerhahn overlooks Indology’s role in creating the Aryan myth. Key sources listed in her bibliography are missing from the discussion. She also neglects the fact that race was a motivating factor for German Indology since its inception; in fact, it was the key reason German scholars embarked upon the search for origins. Absent the racial contrast between them and the Indians, German Indologists would have been unable to make a case for themselves as the inheritors of and successors to Indian antiquity. Their legitimacy derived precisely from their claim that, in contrast to the racial miscegenation and décadence characteristic of the eastern Aryans, Germany preserved and indeed further strengthened the “scientific” (wissenschaftlich) temperament inherent to both cultures. For a discussion of Rabault-Feuerhahn’s thesis, especially in the context of Poliakov (see Léon Poliakov, The Aryan Myth: A History of Racist and Nationalistic Ideas in Europe [New York: Basic Books, 1974]), see Joydeep Bagchee, review of Archives of Origins: Sanskrit, Philology, Anthropology in 19th Century Germany, by Pascale Rabault-Feuerhahn, trans. Dominique Bach and Richard Willet, International Journal of Hindu Studies (2017). 157 For Weber, “the ‘caste’ is [. . .] the normal form in which ethnic communities usually live side by side in a ‘societalized’ manner” (Weber, “Class, Status, Party,” 189). It is in this sense that the word is used here. 48 A ‘status’ segregation grown into a ‘caste’ differs in its structure from a mere ‘ethnic’ segregation: the caste structure transforms the horizontal and unconnected coexistences of ethnically separated groups into a vertically social system of super- and subordination. Correctly formulated: a comprehensive societalization integrates the ethnically divided communities into specific political and communal action. In their consequences they differ precisely in this way: ethnic coexistences condition a mutual repulsion and disdain but allow each ethnic community to consider its own honor as the highest one; the caste structure brings about a social subordination and an acknowledgment of ‘more honor’ in favor of the privileged caste and status groups.158 Applying a Weberian analysis to Indology’s anti-Brahmanism thus lets us see that the Indologists’ attacks upon the Brahmans were an expression neither of individual hatred nor of a general malice.159 They are simply a reflection of the fact that two status groups—the Indian Brahmans and the German mandarins—that for much of their existence had been separated by ethnicity, history, and geography were fused as a result of the German scholars’ penetration into India into one global “society.”160 158 Ibid., 189. 159 Ruben is therefore wrong when he states, “Hauer carries on his Indology not out of a philological or historical interest, but a religious one. [. . .] Foundational here and in the following is Hauer’s well-known hatred of ‘Brahmanism,’ which he inherited from his teacher Garbe.” Walter Ruben, review of Der Yoga als Heilweg, by Jakob Wilhelm Hauer, Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 87 (1934): 89. Garbe may or may not have disliked the Brahmans (in fact, he did, as Bagchi shows in “An Orientalist in the Orient”), but the salient point is not his personal antagonism, but the fact that he worked in an institutional context that mandated anti-Brahmanism. A Prussian state founded on the notion of emancipation from clerical authority would not have funded an Indology modeled on traditional hermeneutics. Neither would there have been a role for the German scholars, if Brahmans continued to be recognized as the true authorities. The only condition under which Indology could develop was if Brahmanism was delegitimated both as a social system and as an epistemic paradigm. Thus, whatever Garbe’s personal feelings, his anti-Brahmanism must be seen as primarily a pragmatic stance. Sent by the Prussian state (with the support of both the Kultusministerium and the Finanzministerium and the explict assent of Kaiser Wilhelm I) to study Sanskrit and collect manuscripts in Benares, he was not there to further native scholarship, but to ensure a smooth transfer of power from India to Germany. 160 The term is Fritz Ringer’s (see Fritz K. Ringer, The Decline of the German Mandarins The German Academic Community, 1890–1933 [Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976]), who clarifies it thus: “The ideal type I propose is tht of the ‘mandarin.’ The word itself is not important, thought it is meant to evoke the traditional elite of learned officials in China. My decision to apply the term to the German academic class was probably inspired by Max Weber’s striking portrait of the Chinese literati. For the European setting, I would define ‘the mandarins’ simply as a social and cultural elite which owes its status primarily to educational qualifications, rather than to hereditary rights or 49 Under these circumstances a classic class struggle was inevitable. Brahmans and Indologists might conceivably have coexisted as members of distinct ethnicities, each occupying the apex of their respective societies. But once Indologists began to see themselves as not merely a privileged elite, but specifically as the new Brahmans, they could only live up to their self-image if they “killed off” the father, the teacher, and the authority figure: the ultimate parricide.161 wealth” (ibid., 5). Important for us from this analysis is Ringer’s observation that the mandarins “will seek to constitute a kind of nobility of the educated to supersede the ‘merely traditional’ ruling class, and they will try to establish a system of educational certificates which can testify to the bearers’ position as men of intellect. Their leaders at the univeristies will speak for all graduates in demanding that public affairs be put increasingly into the hands of the educated few, rather than being managed by the untrained and intellectually as well as morally backward nobles. [. . . ] [In time they will] grow tired of the purely technical role assigned to them in these scheme [that is, the universities as centers for the dissemination of a practical education, and the professors themselves as humble teachers]. Their personal and social aspirations extend beyond the standing of lower-class experts or scribes. They demand to be recognized as a sort of spiritual nobility, to be raised above the class of their origins by their learning. They think of themselves as broadly cultured men, and their ideal of personal ‘cultivation’ affects their whole conception of learning. Seeking spiritual ennoblement from education, they tend to reject ‘merely practical’ knowledge and the pursuit of morally and emotionally neutral techniques of analysis. Instead, they regard learning as a process in which contact with venerated sources results in the absorption of their spiritual content, so that an indelible quality of spiritual elevation is conferred upon the student. In short, as the mandarins become more powerful, their intellectual leaders turn against the rather narrow ideological platform form whicih they started, replacing it with an ideal of learning which can function as an honorific substitute for nobility of birth.” It is in this sense that the German Indologists wished to use the prestige of Sanskrit literature to ascend socially. How could these men, most of whom came from modest backgrounds in the German Kleinbürgertum, not have envied the Brahmans, who held almost as a matter of “natural right” an elevated position in their society? 161 Peter Gaeffke, in “German Indology and the Orientalism Debate,” Journal of Comparative Literature and Aesthetics 17, nos. 1–2 (1994): 1–15, notes of Paul Thieme (1905–2001), Helmuth von Glasenapp (1891–1963), and Ludwig Alsdorf that “they had adopted Brahmanical attitudes” (ibid., 10). Friedrich Max Müller (1823–1900) asserted his coequal status with the Brahmans: “I am not interested in India’s rajas and maharajas, not even in the streets of Bombay, the towers of silence, and the temples of Ellora. I am interested in the few living śrotriya Brahmans, who still know their Veda from memory, who would converse with me and would shake hands with me, even though I am only a Mleccha. They have asked me, out of the distance, to function as one of the sixteen priests at the śraddha, the offering for the dead; they expect me to recite Vedic prayers for their dead fathers. They have even shipped me the gifts due to the priest, because I know the Veda better than their own priests; and they have also sent me the sacred thread of the Brahmans, which I am as proud of as I would be of a shining Order.” Compare also his account of how his edition of the Ṛg Veda was received in India: “It is remarkable and incomprehensible that in the country where the Veda is regarded as the greatest authority, in which one sees far more divine revelation thatn the Christian world in the New Testament, this Bible of the Indians has never been printed and was only accessible to a small circle of priests [. . .]. If I may say so that, with the publication of the Ṛg Veda, a completely new period of Sanskrit studies began in Europe, this naturally stimulated an even greater movement in India. At stake, after all, was their Bible, which in the three or four thousand years of its existence had never seen a published edition. In different places one attempted to impose a priestly ban on the Veda; one claimed it had been written by a Mleccha (“barbarian”) in cow’s blood. But the book was stronger than its enemies, it was indispensable, and finally was recognized even by those who had issued the ban. The late Dr. Haug sent me a detailed report from a Brahman assembly in Poona, during which it let my edition of the Veda first be read out by a non-Brahman, since they 50 Two further points from Weber are important for our analysis here. First, Weber notes that in caste hierarchies, “status distinctions are [. . .] guaranteed not merely by conventions and laws, but also by rituals. This occurs in such a way that every physical contact with a member of any caste that is considered to be ‘lower’ by the members of a ‘higher’ caste is considered as making for a ritualistic impurity and to be a stigma which must be expiated by a religious act.”162 We already saw that for many Indologists the mere mention of a native commentator was a polluting act, one that needed to be expiated by apotropaic rites of a kind (for example, immediately affirming that one did not agree with him or that one cited him as an example of the native view).163 We attributed this to the discipline’s ingrained Protestantism, and this explanation was, of course, correct. But Weber’s analysis permits us to see that Protestantism itself is only a cipher for a series of psychological and sociological transformations that were set in motion once the German scholars sought to occupy the clergy’s traditional position.164 Killing off the sacerdotal class, however, did not lead to a more egalitarian society. Rather, as we saw, German Indology instituted its own caste hierarchy. Jews like Goldstücker, [the Brahmans] did not want to touch my book themselves, but ultimately all improved their manuscripts according to my text, which had been established in distant Oxford” (Friedrich Max Müller, cited in Alsdorf, Deutsch-Indische Geistesbeziehungen, 96 and 91; Alsdorf does not provide a source). In Max Müller’s account, textual knowledge is transferred backwards, even as authority is transferred forwards. The Brahmans’ correction of their manuscripts in light of Müller’s edition becomes a symbol for the fact that true knowledge and authority over the Vedas are now vested in the Western scholar. Indeed, the Brahmans themselves provide confirmation of his neo-Brahman status with the gift of a sacred thread. 162 Weber, “Class, Status, Party,” 188–89. 163 See Herman W. Tull, “F. Max Müller and A. B. Keith: ‘Twaddle’, the ‘Stupid’ Myth, and the Disease of Indology,” Numen 38, no. 1 (1991): 27–58. 164 See the third preceding note. German Indologists’ also modeled themselves on the Brahmans, adopting, for instance, hyperbolic titles such as Upādhyāya, Mahāmahopādhyāya, Ācārya, and Mahāmāheśvara or modeling the titles of their Festschriften on the Brahmans’. Examples include: Vidyārṇavavandanam (Klaus Karttunen and Petteri Koskikallio, eds. Vidyārṇavavandanam: Essays in Honour of Asko Parpola [Helsinki : Finnish Oriental Society, 2001]), Pūrvāparaprajñābhinandanam (Bertil Tikkanen and Albion M. Butters, eds., Pūrvāparaprajñābhinandanam: East and West, Past and Present: Indological and Other Essays in Honour of Klaus Karttunen [Helsinki : Finnish Oriental Society, 2011]), and Devadattīyam (François Voegeli, et al., eds., Devadattīyam: Johannes Bronkhorst Felicitation Volume [Bern: Peter Lang, 2012]). Garbe’s complaint that “on the title pages of their little publications the pandits love to give themselves a series of self-created titles and honors” (Garbe, Reiseskizzen, 95) now sounds farcical. It is one of history’s ironies that the Indologists ended up incarnating the one group they claimed to most hate. 51 Benfey, and Aufrecht were mistreated. Not only were they refused academic positions; they were also subject to constant reminders of their lower, supplicant status.165 Second, Weber notes that “in the caste structure ethnic distinctions as such [. . .] become ‘functional’ distinctions within the political societalization (warriors, priests, artisans that are politically important for war and for building, and so on).”166 We already saw that the Indologists’ critique of the Brahmans took the form of the claim that the Brahmans had become corrupt and power hungry rather than a critique of the specific role they fulfilled. Indeed, many German scholars acknowledged that they performed a socially necessary function.167 Weber’s analysis permits us to understand why, on one 165 Thus, when Benfey finally gained the full professorship, the university curator Warnstedt wrote: “His personality is a bit unpleasant in that his oriental ancestry is strongly evident in him. His conversion to Christianity was probably influenced more by external reasons. Nonetheless . . .”. Berndt Schaller, “Juden und Judentum an der Georgia Augusta,” in Jüdischer Glaube—Jüdisches Leben: Juden und Judentum in Stadt und Universität Göttingen, ed. Elmar Mittler and Berndt Schaller (Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag, 1996), 89. Schaller cites his source as “Schreiben Warnstedts vom 20.6.1862 an das Ministerium in Hannover, Universitätsarchiv Göttingen, Kuratoriumsakten 4 V b 110, Bl. [folios] 164–165.” 166 Weber, “Class, Status, Party,” 189. 167 Herder praised them for their role as “the educators of the youth” (Erzieher der Jugend). Hermann Oldenberg described them as strict observers of ritual, dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge (see Oldenberg, Die Lehre der Upanishaden und die Anfänge des Buddhismus, 4–10). Adolf Holtzmann likewise noted: “But all the same we may not forget that the Brahmans fulfilled their task of being the leaders and fathers of a great people in an honorable manner over centuries, and preserved ethical depth, justice, and truthfulness to a degree that aroused the liveliest admiration of the Greeks and later the Chinese. Placed at the head of a nation, they were satisfied with intellectual precedence, and left rulership and power to the second, [and] wealth and the good life to the third caste. Their life, full of minute observances, was hardly enviable, so that once in our poem [Mbh 13.15.28] the Brahman is compared with a gaunt cow. [. . .] They have achieved extraordinary things for science and never hesitated to learn from foreign peoples, for example, the Greeks” (Holtzmann Jr., Zur Geschichte und Kritik des Mahābhārata, 194–95). Peter von Bohlen (1796–1840) wrote, “as the educators of the youth the Brahmans have a merit as no other status group among any other people of the ancient world, since they had to observe even minor customs and a desire for worldly goods could not motivate them.” Peter von Bohlen, Das alte Indien mit besondere Rücksicht auf Agypten (Königsberg: Bornträger, 1830), 35. (Confirming our thesis that the Jewish context of German criticisms of Hinduism was Christianity’s relationship to its own Jewish past, Bohlen continues: “Only once the caste of the Brahmans, who administered the law, lost their sense for the good and holy and in their hubristic arrogance declared themselves the lords of Creation, once they sought to tie up the people ever more tightly in the fetters of caste, only then did this institution have a corrupting influence on the people’s education. However, while contemplating the castes what should have been observed above all was that Manu’s Law was never practiced in its entire strictness, and that it had taken the same course as the Levites’ decrees, which, initially living among the people for a while, became more rigid due to the priests’ increasing power; finally, in the most recent period, they were written out with all their little observances and, to an extent, also followed as the Jewish state already neared its downfall”; ibid., 35.) The Herder reference is from Johann Gottfried Herder, Ideen zur Philosophie der Geschichte der Menschheit, vol. 2 (Berlin and Weimar: Aufbau Verlag, 1965), 33. The complete passage reads: “It is thus undeniable that the Brahmans endowed their people with a gentleness, civility, temperance, and abstinence, or at least so strengthened 52 hand, the Indologists might critique the Brahmans and, on the other, still argue for maintaining the institution. In his analysis, the “priest” represents a functional role rather than a specific group (though it may take a culturally specific form).168 Thus, every society, here in particular the conglomerate entity formed on the Indo-German fusion, will require a specific group to fulfill the sacerdotal function. Applying this functional model, we can now understand why the German Indologists’ critique of Brahmans took the specific form it did. Rather than seek to eliminate the Brahman as a type, the Indologists were seeking to supplant them as a group. Their criticism centered on the claim that the Brahmans had—allegedly—become “arrogant” and they offered themselves as the better, that is to say, more trustworthy Brahmans.169 They thus conceived of Indology’s role from its inception as oversight of Brahmanism, replacing it to be sure, but also subsuming it under its newly constituted and higher authority. As such, they would assume responsibility for the educational needs of not only the Germans, but also the Indians.170 From their perspective, they were thus not foreign interlopers, but them in these virtues that the Europeans, in contrast, often appeared to them as unclean, drunk, and raging. Their gestures and language are casual and graceful, their intercourse peaceful, their body clean, their lifestyle simple and harmless. Children are raised gently, yet they do not lack knowledge and even less quiet industry and refined imitative arts; even the lower groups learn to read, write, and calculate. Since the Brahmans are thus the educators of the youth, they have for millennia performed an unmistakable service to mankind.” Gita Dharampal-Frick collects more examples from early German sources in Gita Dharampal-Frick, Indien im Spiegel deutscher Quellen der Frühen Neuzeit (1500–1750): Studien zu einer interkulturellen Konstellation (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer, 1994). 168 Weber himself is not unproblematic in this respect. As David Ellenson (“Max Weber on Judaism and the Jews,” in After Emancipation: Jewish Religious Responses to Modernity [Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 2004], 80–95) notes, Weber’s choice of the Jews to illustrate the “ideal-type” of a “pariah people” was shaped by his interest in the Jews’ assimilation into German society. “In Weber’s view, Judaism did not seek a just and egalitarian society; it focused instead upon the fate of Israel and God’s vindication of the people of Israel in the face of the hostility and indifference of the nations. It was Christianity that allowed the prophetic teachings of moral rationalism to transcend the confines of a single tribe. It was Christianity that made these teachings available to the entire world. In making these claims, Weber reveals himself to be embedded in the cultural and religious context of his day. His views and attitudes toward Jews and Judaism cannot be understood apart from the partisan world of German scholarship and Protestant religiosity that forms him” (ibid., 93). Weber’s own work is thus beholden to a supersessionist logic. 169 See the second preceding note and see also Holtzmann’s comment in direct continuation of the quote earlier: “The downfall of Brahmanism begins in the period when they no longer had an opponent to fear; after Buddhism was driven out a boundless arrogance arose in them, which even foreign rule was not capable of dissipating.” Holtzmann Jr., Zur Geschichte und Kritik des Mahābhārata, 195. 170 Hertel provides the best evidence of this: “Above all, it was German Indologists who introduced European research methods into India, who set up the school system in India from the elementary schools all the way to the universities according to the German model, who taught Indian languages and literatures at Indian universities and composed not only the school textbooks but also the critical editions of Vedic, Avestan, and Sanskrit literature, which are authoritative 53 the legitimate inheritors of and successors to Brahmanism. Indeed, they saw themselves as simply continuing the scientific tradition of Indian antiquity,171 and hence thought they were justified in even today, and transcribed the countless ancient Indian inscriptions as the foundations for a history of India; German scholars, who created the science of Indian antiquity [indische Altertumskunde], who initiated publication of the famous translations of the famous translations of the source books of Asian religions ‘Sacred Books of the East’ and the great encyclopedia of Indological sciences, the ‘Grundriß der indo-arischen Philologie und Altertumskunde’; German scholars, too, who composed the great thesaurus of the Sanskrit language, which is still considered authoritative today, who collected the thousands of coins and manuscripts, which today are preserved in the national libraries of India, Europe, and America. This is why all great Indologists from foreign countries have studied with German Indologists and German Indology led in almost all fields of Indology until the World War [I]. [. . .] Even now it has the greatest reputation in all foreign countries and especially in India.” Johannes Hertel, Letter to Staatsminster Dr. Hartnacke, Sächsiches Ministerium für Volksbildung, January 2, 1935, Universitätsarchiv Leipzig, Personalakte 0572 (Hertel, Johannes), fol. 45–46 (underlining in original). 171 Lüders, for instance, writes: “The Indians have once upon a time achieved great things in linguistics [Sprachwissenschaft]. Their observations of vocal forms already led in the prehistoric period to a phonetics that deserves our highest admiration. In grammar, they greatly outstripped everything that Greek antiquity achieved; Pāṇini’s grammar is not only a marvel in its technical structure but also in the sophistication of its observations and its completeness. In Europe the comparative Indo-Germanic linguistics [vergleichende indogermanische Sprachwissenschaft], whose methods are today decisive for all linguistic research, developed from Indian grammar. Comparative philology is today also a subject in India, at least at the large universities. But it is ab initio clear that something quite different is concealed by this name than what we understand by it. The teacher, even if he himself has a knowledge of other languages, cannot teach comparative linguistics to students who, besides Sanskrit, their vernacular language, and English, at most know a little of an Iranian language. Thus, it cannot be more than a very elementary introduction to the principles of linguistics, and the Indian, who wishes to study the modern Indian languages in their historical development, must first attain the necessary foundations in the West” (Lüders, “Philologie, Geschichte und Archäologie in Indien,” 13). Moritz Winternitz offers a yet more plastic example: “For that spiritual affinity, which is disclosed from the unity of the Indo-Germanic languages, is clearly recognizable even today and nowhere as much as between Indians and Germans. The conspicuous correspondences between the German and the Indian spirit have already been pointed out often. ‘The Indians,’ says Leopold von Schroeder, ‘are the people of Romanticism in antiquity; the Germans are it in the present period.’ G. Brandes already pointed out the inclination to tranquil contemplation and abstract speculation as well as the tendency towards pantheism among the Germans and Indians. But the German and the Indiain essence also touch each other in many other respects in striking ways. It is not only German poets who have sung of ‘Weltschmerz’ [the pain of the world]. ‘Weltschmerz’ is also the foundational thought on which Buddha’s teaching is built up; and more than one Indian poet has lamented the suffering and pain of the world, the transience and nothingness of all earthly existence in words that remarkably recall the verse of our great poet of Weltschmerz Nikolaus Lenau. And when Heine says: ‘sweet is sleep, death is better, it would be best to never have been born,’ he expresses the same thought as those Indian philosophers who knew of no higher striving than a death that is not followed by rebirth. The sentimentality and feel for nature are also peculiar to German and Indian poetry, whereas, for example, they are alien to Hebrew or Greek poetry. Germans and Indians love depictions of nature; and just like the German poets the Indian poets love to bring the sufferings and joys of humans into a relationship with the nature that surrounds them. The resemblance between Germans and Indians encounters us in yet another completely different field. We have already spoken of the Indians’ tendency to develop scientific systems; and we can with justification say that the Indians were the scholarly people of antiquity, just as the Germans are it in the present. Just as the Indians already in the remotest antiquity analyzed their primordial holy writings philologically, arranged the linguistic phenomena in a scientific system, and advanced so far in grammar that modern linguistics [Sprachwissenschaft] can still set out from their achievements, so are 54 expecting the Brahmans to transfer their knowledge to them.172 The idea that we can simply get rid of Brahmanism or that the Indologists were ever interested in eliminating Brahmanism is therefore naïve.173 Brought up with the belief in the evil of not only Brahmanism but of any aristocracy whatsoever, Western scholars have ignored this reality.174 They have presented themselves as liberators of a benighted people, but have not as yet asked the question: with what right? And in whose name? the Germans of the present day indisputably the leaders in all fields of philology and linguistics.” Moriz Winternitz, Geschichte der indischen Litteratur, vol. 1: Einleitung—Der Veda—Die volkstümlichen Epen und die Purāṇas, 2nd ed. (Leipzig: C. F. Amelangs Verlag, 1909), 6–7. 172 Richard Garbe wrote: “the Pandits are fully incapable of assimilating Occidental thought; the European who wishes to work with them simply must familiarize himself with the Indian manner of thought and teaching.” Richard Garbe, Indische Reiseskizzen, 89 (emphasis in original). And see Hanneder, review of The Pandit, 672: “There is nevertheless some misunderstanding between traditional Indian and Western academic scholarship, briefly touched upon in the relationship between Kielhorn and the pandits with whom he worked [. . .]. The tension between the two methods of scholarship, if I may add a few thoughts on the topic, is in some respects similar to the relationship between theology and ‘Religionswissenschaft.’ Theology conceived as the academic side of the practice of a religion can include a scientific investigation of the subject, but for a theologian his subject will always be more than ‘just’ a topic for research. In a similar way, the pandit’s proficiency in a subject is often coupled, as Aklujkar points out, with a certain way of life and it may be difficult to divorce the academic aspect from the Pandit identity. Since he is supposed not only to function as a mere scholar, his view of the culture he embodies through his erudition is necessarily more holistic. ‘Western’ Indology with its specifically historically-oriented, critical approach, had to make use of the Indian pāṇḍitya in order to get, as much as possible, first hand information, but it could not accept its theological dimension without compromising its aims as a historical subject. Since this source of misunderstanding persists until to date, it should be made clear that the ‘Western’ approach is not to belittle traditional Indian learning, but a methodological necessity.” 173 The equation of Hinduism with caste is intimately connected with the project of modern statehood and subjectivity as conceived in Hegel. Caste with its horizontal relations and its individually negotiated compromises between communities is precisely what challenges the Hegelian state. Germana is useful here: “The caste system, according to Hegel, dominated India in place of a state. The state, Hegel reminded his listeners (these were lectures), ‘is a realization of Spirit, such that in the self-conscious being of Spirit—the freedom of the Will—is realized as Law.’ Consequently, he concluded that ‘there cannot therefore be any State in the true sense of the term’ in India. Despite the advance that India marks over China, in the end they share one all-important characteristic, the defining characteristic of the ‘Orient’—they are despotic. In both China and India, Hegel contended, morality is the ‘subject of positive legislation, and although the moral prescriptions (the substance of their Ethics) may be perfect, what should be internal subjective sentiment is made a matter of external arrangement. There is no want of a will to command moral actions, but of a will to perform them because commanded from within.’ Moral commands are not recognized by the individual as being given by the Absolute within themselves, but merely as a command from the Absolute in the form of the state (China) or the caste (India): ‘In the law men recognize not their own will, but one entirely foreign.’ As a consequence, in the absence of the oriental despot, ‘[m]orality and human dignity are unknown’ among the Indians. Nicholas A. Germana, The Orient of Europe: The Mythical Image of India and Competing Images of German National Identity (Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars, 2009), 218. 174 The roots of this suspicion are ultimately Christian and Pauline, though an argument can be made that Paul, a Hellenized Jew, was taking his example from Athens and the trial of Socrates. Mark Lilla, in his review of a nonad of books on St. Paul, the revolutionary, brilliantly shows how the anti-elite sentiment—allegedly—emanating from Paul still 55 German Indologists arrived in India bearing the banner of Enlightenment values. They claimed that their “critical” science of Indian antiquity would reveal the truth not only about the texts but also about their traditional authors and interpreters, the Brahmans. Above all, it would liberate Indians from the ill effects of Brahman domination. They claimed that by offering an alternative to Brahmanism, portrayed as the epitome of a reactionary and unjust social order, they would institute a more liberal, tolerant, and enlightened tradition. The new “historical-critical” method was supposed to compensate for the deficits of traditional pedagogy.175 Indians accepted the Indologists’ claim that an continues to inspire “an armchair frisson” in “assistant professors too young or clueless to know just what the names Lenin and Mao conjure up to millions of people around the globe.” Mark Lilla, “A New, Political Saint Paul?” The New York Review of Books, October 23, 2008. Whether that is what Paul meant, he has become the patron saint of the revolutionaries, the radical levelers, who will not have any hierarchy, whether it be in Judaism (Lilla cites a particularly egregious example from Alain Badiou) or in Hinduism (we can cite almost any South Asianist writing today), except of course the one they institute themselves. Bradley J. Bitner (in Paul’s Political Strategy in 1 Corinthians 1–4: Constitution and Covenant, Society for New Testament Studies monograph series, 163 [New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015]) shows that Paul’s message was at least as political as it was theological, aiming at a reconfiguration of Greek politeiai. There is therefore warrant for seeing the German Indologists’ work, which we have presented throughout as theologically motivated, as ultimately political, being directed outwards at the reconfiguration—some might say destabilization—of adjacent polities. This holds a forteriori for the work of the South Asianists. 175 Heinrich Lüders, for instance, noted, “The Indian educational system has undoubtedly certain disadvantages. The student is in a relationship of absolute dependence vis-a-vis his teacher; thus a faith in authority is inculcated in him that is baleful to the free development of independent research and the progress of science. The brief episode in the Chāndogya-Upaniṣad is characteristic of the Indian approach. It is narrated that the young Satyakāma Jābāla attains knowledge of Brahman in a remote forest hermitage. Poetically, this is depicted as a revelation that is conveyed to him by a bull, the flaming fire, a wild goose, and a diving bird. He returns to his teacher, who concludes from his radiant appearance that he has attained Brahman and asks him who instructed him. ‘Other than humans,’ is the answer, ‘but I desire that the respected sir declare it to me. For I have heard from people equal to the respected sir that science follows the most effective path when learnt from the teacher.’ ‘Then,’ it is said, ‘the teacher declared it to him. He did not forget anything.’ Thus, we find clearly expressed here that only the knowledge that the teacher transmits is effective. Further, one cannot deny that in his style of education he consequence is a pronounced specialization. Since the teacher generally is only competent in one Śāstra, one branch of knowledge, the pollinating influence of related disciplines is lacking. That we cannot speak of modern philological-critical method, [or] of a historical understanding of facts is self-evident” (Lüders, “Philologie, Geschichte und Archäologie in Indien,” 8–9). Lüders welcomed the influx of Western ideas into India. In his words: “But finally one may not overlook the fact that in this manner India came into contact with Western science and that for some areas of knowledge the use of English as a medium of communication was unavoidable. However, for more than a generation little of European influence was felt in Sanskrit philology. Western methods and Western views only began to penetrate since the 1870s. Shankar P. Pandit and Kāśināth Trimbak Telang provided the first critical editions in the Bombay Sanskrit Series newly founded by Bühler and Kielhorn. They were soon followed by Ramkrishna Gopal Bhandarkar, who, equally venerable as a man and as a scholar, did pioneering work in a modern spirit in the most varied fields of Indian philology. Since then, the idea of ‘research work,’ [and] of critical-historical research 56 education in Indology, with a special emphasis on the idea of historical development, would create individuals with a broader horizon.176 A critical review of their past would sensitize them to historical injustices. Above all, the Indologists claimed that, as a product of the Enlightenment, their science transcended the distinctions of caste, creed, and color. Yet Indians found that all German Indologists had done was replace one caste hierarchy with another. Worse still, the Indians had exposed themselves to racism.177 Indologists no less than the Protestant Orthodoxy before them had not has struck ever deeper roots” (ibid., 10). And see also Theodor Goldstücker’s comments on the new modes of education India required cited in section 2 earlier. 176 A good place to look for Indology’s self-understanding as a historical discipline (Geschichtswissenschaft) is Hermann Oldenberg, “Die Erforschung der altindischen Religionen im Gesamtzusammenhang der Religionswissenschaft. Ein Vortrag,” in Indien und die Religionswissenschaft: Zwei Vorträge (Stuttgart and Berlin: J. G. Cotta’sche Buchhandlung, 1906), 4–5. Oldenberg specifically emphasizes that the goal of all historical research is “to widen my own self to their self” (mein eigen Selbst zu ihrem Selbst erweitern): “Wie alle Historiker, so erforschen auch wir individuelle Bildungen, die sich höchstens ähnlich, nie identisch wiederholt haben. Was wir zuvörderst wollen, ist nicht, diese Bildungen mit anderen vergleichen oder sie allgemeinen Formeln unterordnen. Wir wollen sie vielmehr als auf sich stellend, mit der ganzen Fülle und Wärme des ihnen eigenen Lebens erfassen, überall in der Geschichtswissenschaft drängt ja heute eine mächtige Strömung dahin, das Inkommensurable, Bodenständige in den Nationen wie in den Individuen hervorzukehren. Und vielleicht auf wenigen Gebieten geschichtlicher Forschung akzentuiert sich dieser Zug naturgemäß so scharf wie auf dem unseren. Das altindische Volk steht unter den Völkern desAltertums besonders einsam da; der indische Geist geht eigenwillig und eigensinnig seine seltsamen Wege. Wen kann es da verwundern, daß unter den Indologen die Mahnung besonders laut wird, die Betrachtung indischen Daseins mit nichts Unindischem zu vermischen: ‘Indien für die Inder!’ Und in der Tat würden wir uns nie an die dem indischen Denken eigentümlichen Bewegungsformen wirklich gewöhnen, unserem Mitfühlen mit jener Seele würde immer ein Letztes von Tiefe fehlen, verständen wir nicht sozusagen alle Nebengeräusche von außen fernzuhalten. Wie sollte aber der Historiker auf das Erleben jenes Mitfühlens verzichten? Ihm liegt das Wort im Sinn—‘mein eigen Selbst zu ihrem Selbst erweitern’. Die heißen Phantasien der indischen Religionen wollen wir mitphantasieren, uns mit der Sehnsucht des Buddhismus nach der Stille des Nirvana mitsehnen. Wir wollen die Tragödie des Kampfes der beiden Seelen in der Brust des indischen Volkes, der arisch-vornehmen und der niedrig-wilden, mitdurchfühlen. Und wenn sich das alles weit von unserer Welt wie auf einer fernen Insel abzuspielen scheint, so mag eben daraus dem Heimischwerden in so fremden Gefilden noch ein eigener Reiz erwachsen.” The quote is from Goethe’s Faust; the complete passage reads: “Du hörest ja, von Freud’ ist nicht die Rede. / Dem Taumel weih ich mich, dem schmerzlichsten Genuß, / Verliebtem Haß, erquickendem Verdruß. / Mein Busen, der vom Wissensdrang geheilt ist, / Soll keinen Schmerzen künftig sich verschließen, / Und was der ganzen Menschheit zugeteilt ist, / Will ich in meinem innern Selbst genießen, / Mit meinem Geist das Höchst’ und Tiefste greifen, / Ihr Wohl und Weh auf meinen Busen häufen, / Und so mein eigen Selbst zu ihrem Selbst erweitern, / Und, wie sie selbst, am End auch ich zerscheitern.” Perhaps Oldenberg should have paid more attention to the possibility of Scheitern. 177 Much more work needs to be done on the Indologists’ racism. The reason it is more difficult to show this is that, in contrast to their racial theories, which permeate their published work, we have very few sources (Garbe’s Reiseskizzen is the rare exception) for this latter type of racism, which governs the day to day interactions of individuals and typically manifests in autobiographical writing. We are not aware of any Indian sources where the authors recorded their experiences of race. This may be due to the fact that in the nineteenth century racism was yet to reach the threshold of discursivity it has since attained. For many Indians—and this can read off directly from their praise of European 57 advancement or acumen—it was natural for them to be treated differently. We therefore focused on the two areas where the German scholars’ racism can be shown: the narrative of Aryan origins, which was used to teach the Indians that they were a degenerate people, and the Indologists’ anti-Brahmanism, which relied on well-known anti-Semitic or anti-Judaic stereotypes of the priests. As for personal racism, we have one further source: it is a letter sent by the President of the Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft. We translate it in full here (the paragraph breaks have been retained): “Respected Herr Dr. Adluri, You have requested me for a clarification concerning your application for membership of the DMG in your letter from September 19, and thereby highlighted, among others, that you were allegedly conferred a Dr. phil. degree in the subject of Indology in Marburg. If this is the case, you should actually also be familiar with the manners prevalent in central Europe, in Germany, and indeed also in the DMG, where you wish to become a member. This includes that one does not gauchely address people whom one does not know by their forename without their agreement. These conventions appear either to have escaped you during your stay in Marburg or you quite intentionally disrespect such basic principles, which regulate social interaction. In either case, you do not convey thereby any signs of politeness or of cultural sensitivity. I am certain that this little assistance with civilized manners in the European cultural sphere will also be useful to you in future. I for my part absolutely and expressly forbid you such presumptuous familiarity. Herr Dr. Stein acted correctly as the secretary of the DMG, since §4(2) of the bylaws says the following: ‘Applications, who are not known to the presidium, must be recommended by two members.’ If these signatures are present, applicants ‘can’ become members provided “their activity is conducive to the aim of the society.’ However, ‘the presidium decides regarding admission,’ and does so, according to the bylaws, according to the standard of a recognizably present conduciveness to the [society’s] aim. The presidium consists of nine people. It democratically decides by a vote (§8). You are not known to this presidium. Evidently, you have confused me in my capacity as the first chairperson with a one-member presidium that decided autocratically, when you demand your admission on the basis of the fact that I allegedly mentioned your name in a discussion list and that you are therefore known to me. I only know your name and some of your writings, but I do not know you as a person. However, the principle of recommendation for admission by existing members has as its aim that these [members] through their signatures vouch not only for the scientific integrity but also for the personal integrity of the applicant as well as for their dignity as future members. You emphasize that you allegedly have worked intensively on ‘German Indology.’ This may be correct, but the aim of the DMG is ‘the deepening and broadening of the knowledge of the Orient’ (§1), not the deepening and broadening of the knowledge of German Indology. In light of the devastating reception of your works concerning this [topic] by recognized scientists such as, among others, the professors Michael Hahn, Jürgen Hanneder, and, most recently, Eli Franco, one cannot consider the tenability of your published results as given even in the slightest degree. In these writings furthermore you accuse a whole lot of regular members, honorary members, and presidial members of the DMG of biased research methods and in part subject them to a racist general suspicion. It is not credible that someone who takes such a view of the German research on India, which is to a large extent gathered in the DMG, and attacks them in numerous publications himself wishes to be a member. As per §6 (2, 4) of the bylaws, it would be a reason for expulsion from the society ‘when a member grossly damages the esteem or the interests of the society.’ The entire presidium will examine and decided whether, against this background, in your case a reason for admission can exist, as soon as you present the secretary with a recommendation for admission from two DMG members. I have herewith said everything that you need in order to be able to orient yourself. I request you to abstain from further correspondence, for I shall not respond to it anymore. 58 overcome the problem of a social hierarchy.178 Rather, they simply displaced Brahmans from their position at the apex, in the process delegitimating Indians as a whole.179 In place of Brahmanism, they created an equally flawed system, underpinned by the triad of race, anti-Semitism, and historicism.180 In this system, only German Indologists would appear to incarnate the final, most evolved form of rationality. In contrast, the Indians would be delegitimated racially, culturally, and intellectually.181 Sincerely, Walter Slaje” (Walter Slaje, “Mitgliedschaft Adluri (20–09–2016),” letter sent to Vishwa Adluri, September 20, 2016 [all underlining in source]). 178 See David Sorkin, who rightly notes, “Orthodoxy did not successfully address individual spiritual life. It was too closely identified with state authority and the estate system, reinforcing conventional notions of law and respectability, and too closely governed by the nobility through patronage and preferment (testimony to a century of upheaval). The educated clergy and university theologians’ near monopoly on knowledge reinforced this relationship to social hierarchy and widened the divide with the unlearned laity, the very divide Luther had hoped to eliminate through ‘the priesthood of all believers.’ Indeed, even Orthodoxy’s reforms were instituted ‘from above’ by consistorial regulation. Finally, Orthodoxy was intolerant: this held not only for early representatives (Johann Gerhard, 1582–1637; Abraham Calov, 1612–86) but also for later ones (Valentin Ernst Loscher, 1674–1749; Johann Melchior Goeze, 1717–86).” David Sorkin, The Religious Enlightenment: Protestants, Jews, and Catholics from London to Vienna (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2008), 119. 179 We are therefore forced to revise the definition of anti-Brahmanism that we gave in the Nicholson response (Vishwa Adluri and Joydeep Bagchee, “The Real Threat to the Humanities Today: Andrew Nicholson, The Nay Science, and the Future of Philology,” A Response to Andrew Nicholson’s review of The Nay Science: A History of German Indology, https://www.academia.edu/18337993/The_Real_Threat_to_the_Humanities_Today_Andrew_Nicholson_The_ Nay_Science_and_the_Future_of_Philology [accessed July 22, 2016]). Anti-Brahmanism is not, as we wrote then, the application of anti-Semitic stereotypes to the Brahmans (though this component doubtless played a role). We would now define anti-Brahmanism, rather, as “an attitude adopted by those who themselves wish to be Brahmans.” 180 We have focused in this article less on race than on the German scholars’ theology (as historicism) and supersessionism (as anti-Semitism). This is not because we deny the reality of race (see the second preceding note), but because ours is a different question. Benno Jacob (1862–1945) famously asked: “Has anybody considered what share in the immense suffering brought recently on mankind and on the Jewish people in particular has to be accredited to the modern German-Protestant science of the Old Testament?” (Benno Jacob, The Jewish Quarterly Review 26 [1935– 1936]: 189, cited in Alan T. Levenson, The Making of the Modern Jewish Bible: How Scholars in Germany, Israel, and America Transformed an Ancient Text [Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2016], 66). Our question is: “Has anybody considered what role the Germans’ inane desire to be considered superior to all other peoples has played in the creation of the modern German-Protestant human sciences?” Peter K. J. Park (in Africa, Asia, and the History of Philosophy: Racism in the Formation of the Philosophical Canon, 1780–1830 [Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 2014]) traces the origins of race, via Kant and Hegel, to the work of the Göttingen philosopher-historian Christoph Meiners (1747– 1810). Park argues for a hidden influence of Meiners on the modern historical sciences. If his thesis is correct, then we must begin to see the entire human historical sciences as flawed not just in their inception but in their Aufbau. 181 Teshale Tibebu rightly points out the double standard inherent in displacing the alleged evil of caste with race—for him, “modernity’s caste system”: “Hegel ‘forgets’ his own celebration of modernity’s caste system: race. Under modernity’s social organization of people on a world scale, race, like the caste system that Hegel condemns, produces a 59 Like the Jews, they would be admitted into the “temple of disciplinarity” only to the extent that secularized themselves, that is to say, accepted the German scholars’ narrative of a corrupt and reactionary Brahmanism, the need for “historical-critical” researches on the model of German scholarship, and the Indologists’ oversight.182 A final residue of race would ensure that they never petrified and rigid social structure and, according to Hegel’s own expression elsewhere, by its ‘stereotypes character condemn[s] the [nonwhite] people to the most degrading spiritual serfdom.’ All Hegel needs to do here is to see how his rational modernity—where subjective freedom and substantial freedom supposedly become one—is meant only for the white, male, bourgeois social class. Race is modernity’s caste system. He fails to see how racism is a fundamental violation of concrete universality and humanism. This failure makes him akin to the Indian Brahmins of whom he is so critical. Hegel is the Brahmin of modernity’s caste structure, racism.” Teshale Tibebu, Hegel and the Third World: The Making of Eurocentrism in World History (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2011), 258 (all italics the author’s). We may say: there is no society without hierarchy, and when academics write about the evil of caste they should first ask how they relate to the whole of society. Are they not equally privileged? Are they not equally insular? Do they not perpetuate an unjust hierarchy in the name of intangible spiritual benefits that allegedly flow to the community from their operation? For a postmetaphysical age, we still retain a surprising faith in an obscure ritual magic (now called the Geisteswissenschaften). 182 We borrow the term from Sheldon Pollock, “Introduction,” in World Philology, ed. Sheldon Pollock, Benjamin A. Elman, and Ku-ming Kevin Chang (Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press, 2015), 23. Obviously, our use in contrast to Pollock’s is critical. Pollock imagines the university as some kind of exclusive circle to which the subject peoples of the world are begging entry, and argues that they must only satisfy the three conditions of “historical self-awareness,” “nonprovinciality,” and “methodological and conceptual pluralism” to be admitted (ibid.). His analysis overlooks the fact that these conditions are themselves prejudicial (for “historical self-awareness” read “no longer relating immediately to tradition,” for “nonprovinciality” read “universalism,” and for “methodological and conceptual pluralism” read “admitting historical criticism”) or that the peoples of the world are unwilling to undergo deracination to gain admittance to a Eurocentric institution. It also does not explain—indeed, it cannot—how the stipulate of “methodological and conceptual pluralism” is reconcilable with the first two, since to stipulate requirements for entry (as the German Indologists already attempted to do) conflicts with the very notion of pluralism. Pollock also does not explain why he, in particular, should be granted this role of stipulation or how he intends to control access. Does he plan to stand at the university’s doors with a velvet rope? Neither does he clarify which sense of history he means, or why one sense should be normative over others. As Adluri argues, “Unless Pollock can show that there is a universal notion of history—i.e., one that is not supersessionist, teleological, and theological in its essence—the emphasis on history only replicates Orientalism” (Vishwa Adluri, review of World Philology, ed. by Sheldon Pollock, Benjamin A. Elman, and Kuming Kevin Chang, American Historical Review 121, no. 3 [2016]: 908–10). Like all stipulations, Pollock’s are pointless. There is no situation in which the university as a body will hand over control to him. There is also no situation in which these vague, barely reflected principles will be elevated to standards for “the university of tomorrow” (Pollock, “Introduction,” 23). Pollock remains trapped not only in historicism but also in Germanism. Indeed, he does not see that both Germany and German philosophy have moved on, and that the research university has become an anachronism even within Germany. It is sustained only by the kind of hagiographic writing he has made his métier (for Pollock’s valorization of the German philological tradition see Pollock, “Introduction,” 1–24; Sheldon Pollock, “Einleitung,” in Kritische Philologie: Essays zu Literatur, Sprache und Macht in Indien und Europa, ed. Christoph König, trans. Brigitte Schöning [Göttingen: Wallstein Verlag, 2015]; Sheldon Pollock, “Kritische Philologie,” Geschichte der Germanistik 45– 46 [2014]: 5–12; and Pollock, “Philology and Freedom,” Philological Encounters 1 (2016): 4–30). Pollock argues for a “critical philology” (see Sheldon Pollock, “Future Philology? The Fate of a Soft Science in a Hard World,” Critical Inquiry 35 [2009]: 931–61), but his analysis cannot explain how we should compensate for the academy’s inherent 60 completely equaled the Germans, try as they might to reclaim their “Aryan” heritage.183 Paradoxically, to the extent that they adopted German ideas of critical scholarship, they legitimated the narrative of a backward culture, since their very participation confirmed the Indologists’ claim that their approach was a universal paradigm, a telos all cultures were underway to.184 Protestant bias (see Vishwa Adluri, “Hindu Studies in a Christian Secular Academy,” International Journal of Dharma Studies [2016]). Philology’s critical function appears to consist, once again, in opposing the scholar’s “historicist” perspective to the “traditionist [sic]” view of the medieval commentators as well as the “presentist” interpretations of modern-day Hindus (see Sheldon Pollock, “Philology in Three Dimensions,” postmedieval: a journal of medieval cultural studies 5, no. 4 [2014]: 398–413, especially 407–409). This is the old Indological suspicion of the natives, and its antiSemitic should by now be apparent. 183 For examples, see Mahadeo Moreshwar Kunte, The Vicissitudes of Aryan Civilization in India (Bombay: Oriental Printing Press, 1880); Balgangadhara Tilak, The Arctic Home in the Vedas, Being Also a New Key to the Interpretation of Many Vedic Text and Legends (Poona: Kesari, 1903); and Dayanand Saraswati, Satyarth Prakash, trans. Chiranjiva Bharadwaja (Agra and Oudh: Arya Pratinidhi Sabha, 1915). Mohammad Rafi at the University of California, Irvine informs us that the change in nomenclature from Persia to Iran (from Middle Persian Ērān) was at the suggestion of Nazi diplomats, who recommended the change to Persian officials as a way of reclaiming and affirming their “Aryan” heritage (see his paper “Imaginative Imperialism: Nazi Germany and the Affirmation of Iranian National Identity”). Given the Persian diaspora’s precarious position in Third Reich Germany (Rafi estimates their number at about 10,000), there were good reasons for doing so. The export of Aryanism thus appears to have been a worldwide project. Tuska Benes discusses how Christian supersessionism crossed with concepts of race to generate orientalism in Tuska Benes, In Babel’s Shadow: Language, Philology, and the Nation in Nineteenth-Century Germany (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 2010). She argues, “Comparative philologists aided in the process of cultural segregation by ‘Orientalizing’ the ancient Hebrews and excluding Jews from the sacred drama of salvation being carried out by a chosen Indo-European people. The Orientalization of European Jews has a history prior to the nineteenth century. Enlightenment Pietists, for example, wishing to purge ceremonial and ritual ‘Jewish’ elements from their religion of pure ethics, had already tried to detach Christianity from its ‘Oriental’ origins. Insisting on the disparate origins of the Semitic and Indo-European language families once again threatened to rob the ancient Hebrews of religious significance. As Maurice Olender has observed, nineteenth-century philologists were willing to accept that the ancient Semites held the secret of monotheism but denied them any role in universal historical progress. Since, art, and the mastery over nature were portrayed as achievements of Aryan antiquity; the Semites were depicted as being immobile and in need of the dynastic and migratory abilities of the Indo-Europeans to spread the word of God. In his view, Hebrews were identified with an invariable truth that excluded them from historical change and as such were in need of being rescued from the timeless paradise to which they had been relegated” (ibid., 110). 184 Adluri and Bagchee, The Nay Science, chapters 3 (see especially the sections “The Secularization of Protestant Theology in the Study of the History of Religions” and “The Institutionalization of Protestant Theology in Indology”) and 4 (“Historicism and the Seductions of Positive Sociology”) discuss the logic at the heart of this teleologicaleschatological-nationalist project. It is the foundation on which German scholars built their sense of superiority, but because it functions through a logic of othering (seen paradigmatically in Hegel’s history of Spirit, which moves through negating other cultures, which are only thus rendered “past”) it affirms German culture at the cost of devaluing all others. 61 Inevitably, this teleological narrative of history placed all other traditions at a disadvantage. Unlike Protestantism, which was legitimated by the supersessionist narrative itself,185 they had to divest themselves of their identity to participate in the university.186 This double standard could be sustained because the Indologists had effectively identified their (Protestant) concerns with the idea of critical, objective research tout court. In contrast, those who resisted appeared particularistic, embedded in the 185 For an excellent account of the modern university’s Protestant character, see Thomas Albert Howard, Protestant Theology and the Making of the Modern German University (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). It is not coincidental that Hegel claimed, “our universities [. . .] are our churches.” Protestantism was identified with “universal insight and education” and “the spirit of reflection and of higher, more rational education.” For the sources, see G. W. F. Hegel, “272. Hegel an Niethammer [Letter to Niethammer, July 12, 1816],” in Briefe von und an Hegel, vol. 2: 1813 bis 1822, ed. Johannes Hoffmeister (Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1953], 89; the complete passage reads: “Herein lies the difference between Catholicism and Protestantism. We have no laity; Protestantism is not entrusted to the hierarchical organization of a church but lies solely in universal insight and education . . . Our universities and schools are our churches. The pastors and the religious service plays no role, as they do in the Catholic church”; and G. W. F. Hegel, “169. Hegel an Niethammer [Letter to Niethammer, November 3, 1810],” in Briefe von und an Hegel, vol. 1: 1785 bis 1812, ed. Johannes Hoffmeister (Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1952), 337 (“You yourself know best what how much the Protestants value scholarly educational institutions; that they are as dear to them as churches and certainly worth just as much. Protestantism does not consist as much in a specific creed as in the spirit of reflection and of higher, more rational education, not some training oriented to this or that practical end.”). Hegel clarified the university’s function in Protestantism in greater detail in a second letter to Niethammer from October, 10 1816: “Die Bildung unserer Geistlichen ist ein wesentlicher Punkt, aber ich halte die Sache noch von umfassender Berücksichtigung. Die katholische Gemeinde hat nämlich an der ganzen Hierarchie einen festen Mittelpunkt, dessen die protestantische entbehrt. Ferner bei ersterer beruht alles auf der Instruktion der Geistlichkeit, bei dieser hingegen ebenso sehr auf der der Laien, da wir eigentlich keine Laien haben und alle Gemeindeglieder gleiches Recht und gleichen Anteil an der Festsetzung und Erhaltung der kirchlichen Wesens in Lehre und Disziplin haben. Unser Palladium ist daher nicht die Gesamtheit der Satzungen von Konzilien, noch ein für deren Erhaltung beauftragter Kerls, sondern allein die Gesamtbildung der Gemeine. Unser näheres Palladium sind daher die Universitäten und die allgemeinen Unterrichtsanstalten. Auf diese blicken alle Protestanten als auf ihr Rom und bischöfliche Sitze hin. Wenn die protestantische Geistlichkeit, wie sie oft möchte […], mehr Autorität in der Gemeine erhielte, so ginge dies wieder auf protestantisches Pfaffentum los, das wir ja auch gehabt haben. Die einzige Autorität ist die intellektuelle und moralische Bildung aller, und deren Garantie sind die Anstalten, die Napoleon gehaßt, aber […] von dieser Seite allein hat ansehen und daher scheuen gelernt und sie in Holland, Göttingen u.s.f geschont hat. — Das Resultat, zu dem eine Menge Züge und Daten gehören, geht darauf hinaus, daß die allgemeine intellektuelle und moralische Bildung für die Protestanten das Heilige ist, für die Katholiken hingegen gleichgültig und ein Belieben ist, weil das Heilige in der Kirche und diese in einem Klerus ausgeschieden ist.” G. W. F. Hegel, “309. Hegel an Niethammer [Letter to Niethammer, October 10, 1816],” in Briefe von und an Hegel, vol. 2: 1813 bis 1822, ed. Johannes Hoffmeister (Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1953). The question of what to do once the university itself becomes a form of “protestantisches Pfaffentum” and the individual chairs “bischöfliche Sitze” is, however, addressed as little by Hegel as any of his successors. 186 This was especially true of the “reactionary” traditions of Judaism and Hinduism, which would be subject to a permanent suspicion of smuggling in their religious concerns because of the general belief that they had not “as yet” emancipated themselves from theology. 62 past, and consequently speaking from a merely provisional position.187 Yet, accepting the Indologists’ narrative was not a solution either because, by doing so, the Indians would automatically delegitimate themselves, once again confirming the Indologists in their position of authority.188 There was literally no way to speak for the tradition.189 Those who attempted to critique this double standard—to show 187 Kant creates the paradigm for this view, when he compares the state prior to Enlightenment to a state of immaturity (Unmündigkeit). Kant compares the individual’s adulthood, when he is a self-determining individual, with the state of having broken free of authority (Kant has in mind primarily religious rather than political authority), but he also extends the concept to the public as well as the age. The implication is that there is a gradation between cultures, some of which have attained greater maturity than others. It is unclear whether the “large part of mankind” in the second paragraph (“Laziness and cowardice are the reasons why such a large part of mankind gladly remain minors all their lives, long after nature has freed them from external guidance. They are the reasons why it is so easy for others to set themselves up as guardians. It is so comfortable to be a minor”) refers to individuals or a collective such as a nation. Arendt, who rejected Kant’s teleology, arguing that it contradicted his notion of “human dignity,” would opt for the individual interpretation. This is in contrast to the Indologists, who assumed that qua European they were automatically enlightened. In Kant, enlightenment is primarily a task and an ongoing process rather than a status. The German Indologists, in contrast, interpreted enlightenment to mean a historical age. They thought that as they, or rather, their culture had already undergone the process historically (whereas the Indians were still on their way), they were superior to the latter. Note also the moral evaluation (“laziness,” “cowardice,” and “it is so comfortable to be a minor”) implicit in the notion. Little wonder, then, that the German Indologists felt confident in being able to advise the Indians not only on how they should receive their texts but also how they should administer their societies. 188 The Indians’ situation is thus an exact parallel to that of the Jews, of whom Richarz shows that if they refused to assimilate they were suspected of resisting reformation, and hence unworthy of of citizenship in the first place. The irony was that, by acceding to the Indologists’ supersessionist narrative in the first place, they created the conditions that permitted the latter to displace them from their own country and their own traditions. The extent to which Indians were co-responsible for this development requires a separate inquiry. It would have to begin with names like Rammohan Roy and Debendranath Tagore. 189 Umberto Eco provides the archetype of all such inquisitory logic in his The Name of the Rose when he has the inquistor Bernardo Gui interrogate Remigius of Varagine: “‘No, my lord, no,’ the cellarer said, covered with sweat, his hands shaking. ‘No, I swear to you that . . .’ ‘An oath!’ Bernard said. ‘Here is another proof of your guile! You want to swear because you know that I know how Waldensian heretics are prepared to use duplicity, and even to suffer death, rather than swear! But I am well aware that you do not belong to the sect of the Poor of Lyons, you wicked fox, and you are trying to convince me you are not what you are not, so I will not say you are what you are! You swear, do you? You swear, hoping to be absolved, but I tell you this: a single oath is not enough for me! I can require one, two, three, a hundred, as many as I choose. I know very well that you Pseudo Apostles grant dispensations to whose who swear false oaths rather than betray the sect. And so every further oath will be proof of your guilt!’ ‘But what must I do, then?’ the cellarar shouted, falling to his knees. ‘Do not prostrate yourself like a Beghard! You must do nothing. At this point, only I know what must be done,’ Bernard said, with a terrible smile. ‘You must only confess. And you will be damned and condemned if you confess, and damned and condemned if you do not confess, because you will be punished as a perjurer. So confess, then, if only to shorten this most painful interrogation, which distresses our consciences and our sense of meekness and compassion!’” Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose (Boston and New York: First Mariner Books, 2014), 406. Well might the German Indologists have said: “you will be damned and condemned if you confess (to being superseded), and damned and condemned if you do not confess (because by your very lack of insight you will show yourselves to have been superseded).” 63 that the German scholars’ too had a history, that their approach was culturally specific rather than universal—risked excommunication.190 The illusion of universality had to be maintained, because the Indologists’ power derived from it.191 If their approach was not universal, who would pay them to set up institutions for them? Why would foreign students study with them? 190 For examples of how guild discipline and authority were reinforced, see Reinhold Grünendahl, “Von der Indologie zum Völkermord: Die Kontinuitätskonstrukte Sheldon Pollocks und seiner Epigonen im Lichte ihrer Beweisführung,” in Jaina-Itihāsa-Ratna: Festschrift für Gustav Roth zum 90. Geburtstag, Indica et Tibetica: Monographien zu den Sprachen und Literaturen des Indo-Tibetischen Kulturraumes 47 (Marburg: Indica et Tibetica Verlag, 2006), 209–36; Grünendahl, “Wissenschaftsgeschichte im Schatten postorientalistischer De/Konstruktion,” Orientalistische Literaturzeitung 103, no. 4–5 (2008): 457–78; Grünendahl, “History in the Making: On Sheldon Pollock’s ‘NS Indology’ and Vishwa Adluri’s ‘Pride and Prejudice,’” International Journal of Hindu Studies 16, no. 2 (2012): 189–257; and see also Eli Franco, review of The Nay Science: A History of German Indology, by Vishwa Adluri and Joydeep Bagchee, South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies 39, no. 3 (2016): 695–713. 191 The narrative of universality is not as simple as it appears. Ultimately, it consists in conferring a kind of Unhintergehbarkeit on Indology, that is, that one cannot get behind it or cannot question it. In the final analysis, every hegemony derives from this fact: making it seem that it is impossible to think otherwise. It is precisely here that the genealogical method authored by Nietzsche and developed by Foucault finds its greatest application. Franco has therefore failed to understand our book (see preceding note). It is not a defense of “indigenist readings,” but an archaeology of the Indological subject: what kind of knowledge does he possess? What kind of environment produces him? How does he constitute himself as an authority? 64 Conclusion The analysis presented here lets us now appreciate the full scope of The Nay Science’s project. Our aim in this work was to ask four questions about Indology as it is currently practiced. The first was epistemological: how was German Indology a science? How did it generate certain, universally valid propositions? Here we showed that Indology did not correspond to any acceptable definition of science. Even though the Indologists claimed that their work was objective and scientific as compared with the allegedly arbitrary interpretations of native commentators, their work was not any more scientific.192 Rather, it was based on racial, anti-Semitic, and anti-Brahmanic principles. The second question we asked was ethical: how did the German Indologists address these problematic aspects of their history? Were they cognizant of them? Had they engaged in a self-critique? Had they corrected for the historical-critical method’s anti-Judaic bias? Once again, we found that, far from addressing these problems, the Indologists were obsessed with defending an institutional hegemony. They failed to acknowledge either their discipline’s involvement in Nazism or their share of responsibility in 192 This contrasts starkly with the Indologists’ repeated use of the language of “science” and “scientificity” (Wissenschaft and Wissenschaftlichkeit). For examples, see Oldenberg, “Ueber Sanskritforschung,” 386–409: “Research into Sanskrit, the science [Wissenschaft] of Indian antiquity is presently 100 years old. [. . .] Englishmen began the work; soon it was taken up by men of other nations and in the course of time it transformed itself ever more decisively [. . .] into an a affair of German science [deutschen Wissenschaft]. [. . .] While Colebrooke still stood at the height of his [creative] powers, participation in researches on India began to awaken in that land which had done more than any other to bring these [researches] closer to a strict, firmly grounded science [Wissenschaft]: Germany. [. . .] It was Bopp, with his researches into the grammatical structure of Sanskrit, who undertook to base the science [Wissenschaft] on the long recognized fact of the relationship of this language to Persian and to mainly European languages. [. . .] Seldom has more remarkable work been accomplished for science [Wissenschaft] than here. [. . .] what has been attained has given a completely new look to the picture, which science [Wissenschaft] had of India. We may state [with justification] that the most ambitious efforts [and] the most important successes in this field are associated with the names of German researchers. If we [now] add that it could not easily have been otherwise, then this is not hubris; rather, we thereby merely give expression to a state of affairs that is grounded in the evolution of the science [Wissenschaft] itself. [. . .] The two areas of science [Wissenschaft], out of which life and strength primarily owed to researches on India, were and remain essentially German: comparative linguistics [Sprachwissenschaft], which, one can say, was founded by Bopp, and that deepened, powerful science [Wissenschaft] or, just as rightly, art of philology. [. . .] Even if representatives of this philology [that is, of classical philology] should encounter the youthful science [Wissenschaft] of India with reserve or with more than reserve, [. . .] work on Indian texts, investigation into the literary monuments of India, cannot be learnt from any better teacher than those masters.” For a discussion of how the German Indologists’ drew on vague, popular notions of science, see Adluri and Bagchee, The Nay Science, chapter 5 and the conclusion. 65 legitimating Aryanism.193 The third question we asked was pedagogic: how did German Indology contribute to pedagogy? What was its value to students? Here we showed that the discipline did not actually aim to make texts accessible and transparent. Indeed, it rejected philosophical interpretation as incommensurable with the “scientific” task. Although German Indologists claimed to be part of the humanities, their work favored an arcane, technical style that restricted these texts to other 193 The following example is fairly typical: “After the disturbing experiences of Nazism and the second World War, German Indology emerged in much the same form as it had been in the beginning of the twentieth century, when it celebrated the victory of textual scholarship and boasted of a nearly endless series of masterly publications. In 1946, the philological text-critical method was not impaired by the political situation, although some Indologists had undergone various forms of deprivation, persecution, moral debasement, etc. But when the German universities opened their doors again, Indologists continued the textual studies of earlier times.” Peter Gaeffke, review of Philology and Confrontation: Paul Hacker on Traditional and Modern Vedanta, ed. Wilhelm Halbfass, Journal of the American Oriental Society 117, no. 2 (1997): 398. From the context (Gaeffke states that “names such as Walter Schubring (1881–1969), Ludwig Alsdorf (1904–78), Heinrich Lüders (1869–1943), Paul Thieme (1905–) may stand for many others”) it is clear that he does not mean the Jewish scholars. Other examples include Stache-Rosen, German Indologists (does not mention the Nazi antecedents of a single Indologist) and Eli Franco, “Indologie,” in Geschichte der Universität Leipzig 1409–2009, vol. 4: Fakultäten, Institute, Zentrale Einrichtungen, ed. Ulrich von Hehl, Uwe John, Manfred Rudersdorf (Leipzig: Leipziger Universitätsverlag, 2009), 393–406 (does not mention Hertel’s anti-Semitism; apparently his “attitude to NationalSocialism was ambivalent” [ibid., 403]). And see also Schetelich’s biography of Hertel: Schechtelic (Dr. habil. Maria Schetelich, assistant at the Institut für Indologie und Zentralasienwissenschaften, Universität Leipzig) writes, “So too the fact that Hertel was accused on several occasions of anti-Semitism may perhaps have had to do with the harsh formulations for which he was famous. However, such expressions did not have a political background, and emphatically so when they concerned individuals. One only has to read the detailed eulogy of Theodor Benfey that Hertel published in the Göttingen newspaper on January 28, 1909 on the occasion of his 100th birthday. Neither the Jewish home Benfey came from nor Jewish education and culture are mentioned negatively in any way, on the contrary, Hertel sees in Benfey not only a great scientist but also a good German. [. . .] Viewed superficially and, above all, for outsiders, it is dangerously easy to associate the ‘Aryan fire doctrine’ with the concept of the ‘Ur-Aryan’ religion with its fire cult, worship of the sun and light, and male groups, which the National Socialists had made into a part of their ideology. But it is absolutely impermissible [doch verbietet es sich ganz entschieden] to justify such a parallel or, indeed, to place Hertel’s theories in a continuum with the fascist ideology. The first and most important reason is Hertel’s declared aversion to every politicization or political marketing of his scientific research and every appropriation by a political party. He was convinced that this would negatively affecct the integrity [Wahrhaftigkeit] of his research, which he considered the highest moral imperative for the scientist. [. . .] Hertel was after all a purist on all levels.” Maria Schetelich, “Johannes Hertel,” in Johannes Hertel, Kleinere Schriften, ed. Barbara Bomhoff (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2007), xxii–xxiii. Schetelich puts forward the standard disciplinary view, but we actually know that Hertel expressly mentioned Theodor Benfey (along with Alfred Ludwig, Hermann Oldenberg and James Darmesteter) as an example of the corrupting Jewish influence in German Indology, which he and his colleague, the German orientalist Heinrich Junker (1889–1970), had decisively fought. See Junginger, “Das ‘Arische Seminar’ der Universität Tübingen, 1940–1945,” 187, n. 13 (for the source, see Hertel’s evaluation of Weller: Gutachten J. Hertels über F. Weller, am 18.10.1933 an den Dekan der Philosophischen Fakultät Hans Freyer geschickt. Universitätsarchiv Leipzig, Phil. Fak. 39 [Dozenten-Akten im Allgemeinen], fol. 66). This work appeared four years before Schechtelich’s. More examples include Grünendahl’s articles (cited earlier) and Walter Slaje’s review of Der arische Ansatz: Erich Frauwallner und der Nationalsozialismus, by Jakob Stuchlik, Études Asiatique/Asiatische Studien 64, no. 2 (2010): 447–62. 66 disciplinary “initiates.”194 Their work set aside both ethics and pedagogy as beyond Indology’s ambit, and posited a fantastic objectivity instead.195 The fourth question we asked concerned German 194 We provide two examples. The first is taken from the volume Nārāyaṇīya-Studien (Peter Schreiner, ed., NārāyaṇīyaStudien [Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1997]), the second from Grünendahl’s article on the Mahābhārata critical edition (Reinhold Grünendahl, “Zur Klassifizierung von Mahābhārata-Handschriften,” in Studien zur Indologie und Buddhismuskunde, ed. Jens Uwe-Hartmann and Petra Kieffer-Pülz, Indica et Tibetica 22 [Bonn: Indica et Tibetica Verlag, 1993], 101–30. The passages are reproduced verbatim and intentionally not translated: “Der Nārāyaṇīya– Abschnitt zerfällt in zwei deutlich geschiedene Teile: Teil 1 erstreckt sich über 6 Adhyāyas (12,321–326), Teil B über 13 (12,327–339). Mit Adhyāya 327 verlassen wir nicht nur die Gesprächsebene »Bhīṣma : Yudhiṣṭhira«, auf der wir uns seit etwa Mitte des Rājadharmaparvans befinden, und die Gesprächsebene »Vaiśampāyana : Janamejaya Pārikṣita«, sondern werden auf die erste (!) Gesprächsebene des Mahābhārata, nämlich die zwischen dem Sūta Ugraśravas (Saudi) und Śaunaka, zurückversetzt, d.h. in die epische Rahmenerzählung (MBh 1,1). In dem von der CE gebotenen Text spricht in den Kapiteln 12,327,331,335 zwar Janamejaya, worin die CE der Malayālam-»Version« des Mahābhārata folgt (lediglich die Mss. M1.5–7 bietet zu Beginn all der genannten Kapitel die Sprecherangabe janamejaya uvāca), aber in der weit überwiegenden Zahl der Mss. (u.a. K1.2.4 Da3.4 Dn1.n4 Ds D2.3.8 T1 G1–3.6) in diesen Kapiteln Śaunaka der Sprecher (vgl. Grit. Notes zu 12,334.10 und 335). Wie die Malayālam-»Version«, so suchen auch die SternchenPassagen 859* (auch 12,326.120 in T G1–3.6, nach 12,326.124 u.a. in M1.5–7), 860* (nach 859*, 12,326.120 bzw. 124) und 861* (nach 12,327.4 u.a. in T G1–3.6) den abrupten Wechsel der Gesprächsebenen zu mildern (vgl. Critical Notes zu 12,327). BELVALKARS Aufnahme der Sprecherangabe janamejaya uvāca an besagten Stellen verletzt eindeutig die Editionsmaximen der CE des Mahābhārata. Dieser merkwürdige Umstand, der gesamte Inhalt der nachfolgenden 13 Adhyāyas (vgl. Critical Notes zu 12,327) sowie zahlreiche in diesen Adhyāyas vorkommende grammatische Unregelmäßigkeiten legen die Annahme nahe, daß Teil B des Nārāyaṇīya-Abschnittes im Ganzen jünger ist als Teil A. Mit den Kapiteln 12,327–339 werden wir uns bereits nahe der Zeit der Endredaktion des Mahābhārata befinden, also vermutlich im 4./5. nachchristlichen Jahrhundert (vgl. JACOBI 1892: 631, BÜHLER/KIRSTE 1895; 25–26 [= Kl. Sch. Kirste S. 207–208], GAIL 1977a: 134).” (Thomas Oberlies, “Die Textgeschichte der Śvetadvipa- Episode des Nārāyaṇīya (MBh. 12,321–326),” in Nārāyaṇīya-Studien, ed. Peter Schreiner [Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1997], 78–79). Grünendahl: “Ähnliches läßt sich für SUKTHANKARS ‘Kerngruppe’ K0.1, erweitert um K2, zeigen. In dieser dreier Gruppe sind 29 Textzusätze nicht vorhanden, die in der Mehrzahl der Hss. der Nord. Rezension belegt sind. Außer in K0.1.2 sind sie durchgängig nur in Ñ4, und Ś1 (sofern erhalten) nicht vorhanden, ansonsten fünfzehnmal auch in Ñ3, zehnmal in Ñ1 (davon siebenmal sowohl in Ñ1 als auch in Ñ3, zweimal inklusive Ñ2), sowie achtmal in D5(!). All dies deutet darauf hin, daß K0 einerseits auf eine Texttradition zurückgeht, die derjenigen von K1.(2) und, über die K-Mss. hinausgehend, von Ś1 und Ñ4 nahesteht. [. . .] Die Lesarten von K0 bieten leider, wie meist im Mahābhārata, kein so klares Bild. Die Tendenz zu K4 ist erkennbar in 14.5a (mit K2), 6f. (fast identisch mit der v.l. von K1, D2.5, G6, M1), in der Stellung von 257* hinter 14.11, in 16.35d (mit K2, D5), 28.12d (mit K2, D2.5, M2.5), 60.61d (mit K2), in der Stellung von 60.66ab hinter 67cd (it K2, D2.3 und div. Hss. der Südl. Rez.), in 61.28d (mit K3, B5), 68.28d (Bagatellvariante), 50a(!), 52b, 69.2c (mit B1 in marg.), etc.” (Grünendahl, “Zur Klassifizierung von MahābhārataHandschriften,” 118–20). It bears pointing out that both Oberlies’s and Grünendahl’s arguments are wrong: Oberlies’s because, as Vishwa Adluri has shown, there is actually a superb continuity between the Nārāyaṇīya’s alleged halves, which work out a complex argument concerning the relation of the One to the many (see Vishwa Adluri, “Philosophical Aspects of Bhakti in the Nārāyaṇīya,” in The Churning of the Epics and Purāṇas at the Fifteenth World Sanskrit Conference, ed. Simon Brodbeck, Alf Hiltebeitel, Adam Bowles [New Delhi: Rashtriya Sanskrit Sansthan and D. K. Printworld, forthcoming], 127–54) and Grünendahl’s because, if agreement in reading cannot be an argument for filiation, agreement in the absence of reading is even less of an argument for filiation. Indeed, the very notion that the Mahābhārata manuscripts were classified by script, the foundation of Grünendahl’s article, is incorrect: the manuscripts were classified by text, as indeed they must be. See Vishwa Adluri and Joydeep Bagchee, Philology and Criticism: A Guide to Mahābhārata Textual Criticism (London: Anthem Press, 2016). Yet both Oberlies’s and Grünendahl’s articles were found worth citing 67 Indology’s public value: if the discipline contributed neither to science nor to ethics nor to pedagogy, what function did it serve? Why was it funded? Here we found that Indology’s main function consisted of oversight over the Brahmanic (read: priestly) tradition.196 German Indologists had failed to evolve a single positive justification for their discipline, other than offering a counterpoint to the tradition.197 Yet, although they claimed to be historically self-aware, they could not answer a simple (see Alf Hiltebeitel, “The Nārāyaṇīya and the Early Reading Communities of the Mahābhārata,” in Between the Empires: Society in India, 300 BCE to 400 CE, ed. Patrick Olivelle [New York: Oxford University Press, 2006], 227–56). Apparently, all that is required to be taken seriously as a scholar is the profuse use of numbers, asterisks, exclamation points, nested parentheses, and abbreviations. This was, in fact, the entire “art” of German Indology: it taught a certain obscurity of style that outsiders mistook for an expression of profundity. 195 Walter Slaje’s comments in Walter Slaje, “Was ist und welchem Zweck dient die Indologie?” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 153, no. 2 (2003): 311–31 provide a good overview of how the Indologists viewed themselves historically in the twilight of their discipline. See especially pp. 321–24: “Indology thus diagnoses, and analyzes. Therein lies its character of a pure science [Wissen-schaft, Slaje is playing on the fact that the German word for science, Wissenschaft, is comprised of knowledge, Wissen, and the –schaft suffix, which denotes one of three things: “the totality of things,” in this case the totality of knowledge(s); “a matter or a fact as the result of an activity,” in this case the knowledge that has come about as the result of research or seeking; or a “property, a condition,” in this case the condition of knowledge or knowledgeablness]. It [Indology] does not provide therapy, does not heal, and also does not prognosticate. [. . .] In the disciplinary effort at knowledge, description, and analysis of the autonomous Indian Logos, the aim must be, first, to create manual ready factual knowledge on the basis of reliably edited sources, in order to, second, with their help be able to project a general overview that focuses on the great and continuous lines of the intellectual world of this culture, such as they articulated themselves across long periods of time predominantly albeit by no means exclusively, as the examples of Pāli and Tamil show, via the medium of Sanskrit and [now] reveals themselves to us” (italics in original). 196 The best source for this is Weber’s letter to Raumer. After making a case for his appointment to the Extraordinariat in altindische Philologie at Berlin University, he writes, “The entire weight of the religious and cultural structure of contemporary India appears to rest on the Vedas. As soon as they are unveiled from the mysterious darkness surrounding them till now, and made accessible to all, all the untruths shall be automatically revealed, and this shall, in time, put an end to the sorry plight of religious decadence of India. The critical analysis and publication of Vedic texts shall assume a role among the Indians, similar to Luther’s translation of the Bible.”Albrecht Weber, “Letter to Karl Otto von Raumer, October 12, 1855 (Humboldt University Archives, P. F. 1433); translated and cited in Indra Sengupta, “State, University, and Indology: The Politics of the Chair of Indology at German Universities in the Nineteenth Century,” in Sanskrit and “Orientalism”: Indology and Comparative Linguistics in Germany, 1750–1958, ed. Douglas T. McGetchin, Peter K. J. Park, and Damodar SarDesai (Delhi: Manohar, 2004), 278–79. 197 See Eli Franco’s review of our book, The Nay Science. After failing to provide a positive justification for Indology, he concludes with the following: “This tendency has become more pronounced with the post-colonial turn, which endorses defensive, indigenist readings of such texts. I am not sure whether the authors realise that what they recommend amounts to an open invitation for reading and using a text like the Gıta as a justification of the abominable concepts and practices of caste distinction, Hindu nationalism, Brahmin supremacy, Right-wing militarism and fascism, to mention but a few possibilities. Under such circumstances, we as ‘German’ and other Indologists may gladly accept the epithet ‘nay science’ for our discipline; we gladly say ‘no’ to this promotion of ignorance, shallowness, arbitrariness, prejudice and eccentricity by the authors, and say ‘yes’ to serious, methodically sound and sober scholarship free of 68 question: in what way was their scholarship “critical”?198 Parasitic on the Indian tradition, using their corporate status to compel respect from the Indians, and yet incapable of dialoguing with them, the Indologists thus represent a failed chapter in German intellectual history. They survive merely on the strength of their institutional arrangements,199 that is, what Ringer terms “legality.”200 The present paper brought these points together and showed how, on the back of a supersessionist narrative of liberation from Brahmanism, the German Indologists actually constituted themselves as a new priesthood. Their example is instructive for anyone concerned with the university’s future direction. allegedly ‘traditional’ and political constraints by Hindutva ideology and the like.” Franco, review of The Nay Science: A History of German Indology, 713. This contrasts strongly with Franco’s cover-up of Hertel’s Nazism (see the third preceding note). Can it be that Franco knows that The Nay Science is a critique of his ecclesiastic privilege? 198 That is, other than being critical of the tradition, which, as we saw, was the deepest supersessionist reflex at the heart of Indology. 199 See n. 154. The society was refounded in Mainz after the war as the Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft (Mainz e.V.). At its first meeting on June 4, 1948, with Ernst Waldschmidt and Helmuth Scheel it voted two Nazis to the posts of second chair and first secretary, while its three-member advisory council included the anti-Semite Johannes Nobel and Rudi Paret (member of the Institut zur Erforschung und Beseitigung des jüdischen Einflusses auf das deutsche kirchliche Leben, which after the Reichsprogromnacht campaigned for the de-Judification of German churches). Prominent attendees included Ludwig Aldsorf, Hermann Lommel, and Egon von Eickstedt (author of Rassenkunde und Rassengeschichte der Menschheit and Die rassischen Grundlagen des deutschen Volkes, and a writer of “scientific” opinions on Jewish ancestry for the Reichssippenamt). At its second meeting on October 1, 1949 in Tübingen, the society gave itself a new Satzung (bylaws), in which it noted, “Applicants who were members of the NSDAP can only be accepted after submitting a questionnaire and the approval of the military government [§5a].” This clause must have been effected by the French military government, whose approval was required for the society to hold its first meeting, but perhaps with so many Nazis around it was impossible to make quorum otherwise. The question of who was present at these meetings still awaits a closer study. For the meeting minutes and full membership lists see “Bericht über die Neugründung der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft (Mainz e. V.),” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 99, no. 1 (1945–50): 138–42 and “Bericht über die Mitgliederversammlung der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft am 1. Okctober 1949 in Tübingen,” Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 99, no. 2 (1945–49): 292–97 (the bylaws are in appendix 2, pp. 295–97, the quote is from p. 295). On Rudi Paret, see Susannah Heschel, “Theologen für Hitler. Walter Grundmann und das „Institut zur Erforschung und Beseitigung des jüdischen Einflusses auf das deutsche kirchliche Leben“,” in Christlicher Antijudaismus und Antisemitismus. Theologische und kirchliche Programme Deutscher Christen, ed., Leonore Siegele-Wenschkewitz, Arnoldshainer Texte 85 (Frankfurt am Main: Haag und Herchen, 1994), 125–170. Nowhere have we found evidence of a critical Aufarbeitung of the society’s Nazi past or any attempt to purge its membership of problematic individuals. It is as members of such an institution that German Indologists wished to preach to Indians about the evil of Brahmanism. 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