Abstract
The scope of the emerging field of Comparative Political Theory (CPT) has been significantly broadened by the appearance of Stuart Gray’s sophisticated and highly rewarding recent book, A Defense of Rule. Whereas the majority of work in CPT focuses on modernity up to contemporary times, Gray’s area of research is fixed upon—as the subtitle makes explicit—the origins of political thought in Greece and India. By “origins” Gray is referring not to the hackneyed comparisons or trite associations of classical Greece (i.e., Athens’ golden age) and Mauryan India (i.e., the era of Kautilya’s Arthashastra), but instead to the true origins and foundations of the political thought of the classical era, which is to be excavated from the epic and religious literature preceding it, usually referred to as the archaic period in Greece and the Vedic and epic ages of India. For historians, or those with a background in religious studies/theology, or comparative literature/mythology, the time period under Gray’s scrutiny would not be alien; however, this is totally new terrain for CPT and I believe for political theory more broadly. And yet, to his great credit, Gray skillfully manages to guide political theorists through it as though it had already been done a thousand times before.
The subtitle evoking the archaic and epic era (which each of the five chapters of the book cover) does not mark the only innovation of this work. The title, too, indicates a radical departure from mainstream political theory—indeed, a movement struggling upstream against the current. That is, the primary burden of A Defense of Rule (as we learn in the Introduction, and as it gets executed in the Conclusion) is to oppose the overwhelmingly negative attitude that theorists of the political have long held against man’s rule over other men (pardon the gender specificity, employed to capture the usage of the era under analysis). Man’s rule over man is associated with hierarchical domination, and thus political theorists express nearly universal preference for the rule of law instead. By means of a systematic, comparative return to the origins of political thought in archaic Greece and Vedic India, Gray assumes a contrarian position to most contemporary political theory and comes to a robust defense of rule.
This is not to say that the author eccentrically champions the arbitrary or even discretionary power of those who rule, that is, who hold positions with the prerogative to command obedience from the rest of us. Quite the contrary, what Gray aims to achieve is no less than to cancel and overcome this very conception of rule itself, a conception that academic political theory has inherited from the origins of its political thought in ancient Greece. This is thus the utility, according to Gray, for the comparative turn to ancient Indian political thought: it is meant as a corrective, as a resource for a very different, more choice-worthy, and even more sustainable conception of rule altogether. This is at bottom because the ancient Indian conception of rule entails a normative duty for “stewardship.”
Now, just before mentioning the term stewardship, I used the word sustainable. This hints that there is yet a third thing going on in this book, another level of operation beyond what is indicated by the subtitle (a comparative analysis of archaic Greek and Vedic Indian political thought) and the title (a reconceptualization and consequent affirmation of political rule as stewardship). This third thing comes as a surprise because of the prima facie incongruity between the disciplinary fields. I am referring to environmental—or perhaps better, ecological—ethics. Gray argues that the nature of the relationship between humans and the nonhuman world is already packed into the concept of rule (194). The regnant concept of rule in western modernity (which, again, finds the origins of its main contours in archaic Greek thought) is an instrumental one: it conceives of human–human rule as hierarchical and of human–nonhuman rule as instrumental, where the nonhuman is regarded as a resource for the human, void of inherent value and thus subordinate, there to enhance human comfort and experience (197). By contrast, the Vedic Indian conception of rule as stewardship entails no such prioritization of the human over the nonhuman, but rather obligates us to act as stewards for the interests of nonhuman entities (200). Reinvigorating this aspect of the ancient Indian conception of rule, then, could aid us in dealing with the serious trouble humanity currently finds itself in.
Thus are the three distinct strands of comparative/analytical classical studies, the normative political theory of rule, and ecological ethics almost seamlessly woven together in this captivating book.
Despite the ambition of the argument and all its moving parts, the book remains neatly organized. The Introduction addresses the field of Comparative Political Theory and lays out the ways that this work contributes to it. Here Gray establishes the long-standing preference of political theory toward the rule of law over the rule of man, citing passages as evidence from Aristotle to Max Weber to Hannah Arendt up to Raymond Geuss and other contemporaries. The first two chapters cover Greek thought (with chapter 1 on Homer and chapter 2 on Hesiod). In these chapters, Gray labors to identify the essence of the archaic Greek concept of rule as distinction; that is, rulers in this tradition establish their legitimacy by hierarchically distinguishing themselves from those whom they rule, by enhancing their prestige, glory, honor, reputation, and the like. This conception builds into the history of western thought a hierarchical distinction between the human and nonhuman realms that continues to steer political conceptions of rule even to this day. The third and fourth chapters cover Indian thought (with chapter 3 on the Vedas and chapter 4 on the Brahmanas). Here Gray argues that the Vedic/epic conception of rule, with its emphasis on the intertwined and connected human and non-human realms, is essentially one of stewardship; that is, the Indian understanding locks the political ruler into a larger cosmology where his function is to guard, protect, and sustain everything he rules. The last chapter (chapter 5) ties together the retrieved conception of rule that Gray champions, that is, a conception of political rule enriched by the concept of stewardship but evacuated of any stifling metaphysics. The book closes with a Conclusion serving to lay out the implications of the study in relation to normative questions in ecological ethics. Specifically, here is where Gray brings to bear the benefits of his retrieved and augmented conception of political rule upon the apparently intractable environmental problems we face today. He suggests that a new conception of rule offers a new foundation for ecological thought and action that could move us beyond crisis.
Thus far, I have been all praise and not without reason. There are, however, two rather serious reservations that I have regarding Gray’s project. The first concerns the pragmatics of rule as stewardship. The second concerns Gray’s interpretation of human–human relations within the purview of Vedic cosmology. Both of these are related, and rooted in the discrepancy between theory and practice throughout Indian political history.
Let me start with rule as stewardship. While Gray is correct to assert that the ancient sources of Indian traditions have given rise to markedly different conceptions of rule compared with that found in ancient Greece, I am puzzled about the practical effects or impacts. There is scarcely a body of open water to be found in India that is nontoxic, and you have to hold your nose as you cross most rivers because the stench is overwhelming. This is despite a state High Court declaring, on account of the Vedic bent of its judiciary, that Indian rivers enjoy the same constitutional rights as persons, not to mention an earlier judgment that Himalayan glaciers, lakes, and even forests are legal persons (Uttarakhand High Court [PIL 126/2014] 20.03.17). (It should be noted that the Supreme Court of India has since stayed the decision, clarifying that rivers cannot enjoy human rights [07.07.17]). It may be worth adding that Indian cities routinely top the World Health Organization’s ambient air pollution lists year after year. Where within South Asia has the normative conception of rule as stewardship borne fruit, or where has it been robust enough to function prophylactically against the globally hegemonic instrumental conception? This is not a small quibble insofar as Gray’s work has the explicit motive of rescuing us from the “serious trouble” humanity faces, “including deforestation, global warming, rising sea levels, species loss, and peak oil” (viii).
Things fare even worse with human–human relations. The Vedic thought that Gray champions is constituted above all by the brahminical redactions appearing throughout the body of that literature. Brahminical thought—in contrast to numerous rival traditions of Indian thought and practices—is characterized by an aggressive inegalitarianism and unapologetic patriarchy. For example, untouchability and widow burning are by-products of brahminical thought. These inegalitarian and patriarchal social systems are justified through cosmologies and stabilized through metaphysics. While it is true that the implications of these cosmologies and metaphysics do entail a conception of stewardship possessing precisely the virtues that Gray identifies, this comes at a high price. Gray seems to be well aware of this, as he notes that “the status of Dalits and untouchability are related to varna [i.e., caste] distinctions that are initially delineated in the [Vedas] and Brahmanas” (109). These distinctions do not occur just anywhere in the Vedas, but precisely at those points where Gray chooses to illustrate the political cosmology wherein stewardship gets embedded—for example, the redacted Rg-Veda creation myth. Within this scenario, stewardship is at best paternalism; at worst, it is a euphemism for a system of oppression.
It is not enough to say that the theory is sound but the practice perverted. Gandhi tried this with respect to justifying the caste system for decades, but even he eventually came to side with his political-theoretical rival on this issue, B.R. Ambedkar, and realized that the caste system was irredeemable. For Indian political theorists such as myself, brahminical anti-humanism would never be a viable option, even if its thought held an insight of unparalleled ecological boon. To be fair, Gray seems to believe that we could have brahminism free of paternalism and patriarchy, and that the environmental existential challenges that we now face make this a risk worth taking, a gambit. But let’s be realistic. Brahminical thought has failed South Asia for two millennia; it seems unlikely that it could suddenly alter its nature and well serve us in the twenty-first century.
That said, I cannot close without returning to praise. I want especially to call attention to the comparative analysis of Greek and Sanskrit texts. Gray’s performance is so exemplary that it might even manage to nudge Anglocentric and monoglot political theorists to begin to explore beyond the confines of their canon. In the end, irrespective of my own reluctance to play along with Gray’s gambit, there is no doubt that this is an innovative and important contribution not just to Comparative Political Theory in particular but to political theory as such.