Are the Yamas (Moral Disciplines) of Yoga Unnecessary? (2)

In my previous blog, I asked: How can we act responsibly? How can we behave with moral integrity, and why should we?

This question was foremost in Prince Arjuna’s mind when he found himself on the battlefield. His story is well known from the Bhagavad-Gītā. His royal cousins had deprived him and his four brothers of the kingdom of Hastināpura, which they had inherited from their father Pāndu. The five princes had met all the conditions imposed on them by their hundred “evil” cousins. The time had come to claim back their patrimony, even though this meant war.

Standing in his war chariot and surveying the ranks of the enemy, Arjuna dropped his bow and sat down, disheartened. The opposite lines included many family members, teachers, and respected royal sages, and Arjuna lost his taste for fighting what was lawfully his share of the kingdom.

But Krishna, the enlightened or “divine” teacher, urged him on to do the deed of a warrior. Arjuna had been trained to fight, and he was a superb archer. He was confused and feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he was taught to uphold the moral virtue of nonharming, but the situation demanded his martial intervention. The royal cousins, who had dark hearts and clouded minds, should not be allowed to rule. But could right be gained by might? Could a war truly settle matters?

There is a question about whether the war depicted in the Mahābhārata epic and its Bhagavad-Gītā episode ever happened or whether it is pure allegory. But this question is not really important here. Whether the warring forces were all decimated or not and whether the five royal sons of King Pāndu came to rule or not, the situation is primarily a moral crisis, and it is important that we should understand this and also how we should understand this today.

We know that Arjuna and his armies ended up engaging the enemy and that the five princes won this dreadful, devastating war and ended up ruling the kingdom benignly and justly. But how did Arjuna negotiate the felt dilemma between nonharming and the harm that naturally attends war? Why did Krishna, an incarnation of the Divine, support the war and encourage Arjuna to fight?

As an enlightened teacher, Krishna saw the future as clearly as the present. He knew that Arjuna would win and that the fighting armies would be obliterated to a man. From the perplexing perspective of enlightenment, the unfolding drama of the war never happened. The transcendental Self, the inmost essence of every being, cannot be slain. It was neither born, nor will it therefore die. The transcendental Self is immutable.

This is where Krishna’s gospel of Karma-Yoga—the Yoga of self-transcending action—comes in: Simply do the appropriate deed without looking for reward (the “fruit”) and without having the ego-personality (ahamkāra) involved. Should we then all act like robots? Not at all. Krishna advised Arjuna to be mindful and not merely go on automatic. Going on automatic means that the unconscious will govern our actions, and this is disastrous. But what could be more disastrous than war, an all-out war at that? Would the victor really be the winner?

I will look at this more closely next time.

Georg Feuerstein

Are the Yamas (Moral Disciplines) of Yoga Unnecessary? (1)

Traditionally, the five yamas are considered key limbs of Patanjali’s eight-limbed path, which are universally applicable. They are deemed foundational and indispensable by virtually all yogic schools.

Not so in contemporary Yoga. Several prominent Yoga teachers are on record as having dismissed the moral disciplines as old-fashioned and unnecessary. Is this a valid perspective? Or are those teachers out for lunch?

My own opinion is that they are not only out for lunch but also are irresponsible. Here is my reason: As I have explained in my book Yoga Morality (2007), which the review media have all but ignored with the notable exception of the Vancouver Sun, our modern civilization is in a moral quagmire that is the equivalent of an economic depression (not merely recession!).

In other words, we are in dire trouble. Our situation is similar to an ocean liner with a broken engine and without a working rudder. Anything goes. We are morally adrift. People pretty much make up their own convenient morality if they have—and often even if they have not—jettisoned the moralism of their theistic religion. They are holding up flash lights to guide the traffic on a stormy sea, with dark thunder clouds overhead and billowing waves beneath.

Does this sound familiar to you? Have you noticed that Yoga people, who should know better, behave as if they had no moral compass? What has been your own response to the situation? Are you confused? Please share your thoughts and feelings.

I have seen people flee into religious or secular fundamentalism just to have tentative (if dubious) guidelines. I have seen others avoid moral issues like the plague. Is this compatible with authentic Yoga? I think not. As Yoga practitioners, I suggest, we must face the question of our moral stance in the world. Should we endorse harming in deed, speech, and thought personally and culturally? Lying? Theft? Greed? Sexual exploitation (usually of women and children)? Of course not. But how can we act responsibly? How can we be true to our calling as Yoga practitioners?

Georg Feuerstein