The Nalanda
enterprise rose from a fundamentally false
premise
Hindustantimes Ravi Kalia |Aug 24,
2015
The Nalanda
University enterprise has been a national misadventure because of
the lack of fiscal probity.
It has also been a
source of international embarrassment because the resurrection of
Nalanda was to be underwritten by seven countries (Australia, New
Zealand, Brunei, Cambodia, Singapore, Lao PDR and Myanmar) that
signed the memorandum of understanding (MoU) with India in
2013.
China, Japan,
Thailand and other countries had also made commitments for or
contributed to the rebuilding of Nalanda. And because of its
expected international outlook, Nalanda was to transform the image
of India’s insular higher education system, but cronyism in
recruitment and hidebound curriculum have had a defiling
effect.
Nalanda’s placement
at Rajgir (10 km from ancient Nalanda) in rural Bihar was justified
by claiming that it would bring employment and development to the
region — a common argument of avaricious developers preying on
rural lands to build multi-storeyed apartments.
Sober minds like
Philip Altbach, director of the Center for International Higher
Education at Boston College, had sounded a note of caution by
stating that “Nalanda may attract a certain number of big thinkers,
but academics like to be where the infrastructure is.
They want culture
and amenities and coffee shops, and a wider community of
intellectuals than that [of Nalanda] on campus”.
The Nalanda Mentor
Group, headed by Nobel laureate Amartya Sen, came to be viewed as a
self-appointed group mainly educated in the West and adrift from
the Asian Buddhist intellectual community.
The exclusion of
Buddhist representation in the Mentor Group, and absence of any
Buddhist studies in the curriculum produced scathing criticism from
Buddhist scholars and activists.
“They totally missed
the core philosophy and ingenuity of the original Nalanda,”
thundered Malaysian Buddhist Lim Kooi Fong, the founder of the
Buddhist Channel, the premier Buddhist news website.
“There is no Sri
Lankan representation on the board [of governors] despite this
country’s claim to have the oldest continuing Buddhist civilisation
in the world,” complained lawyer and Buddhist activist Senaka
Weeraratne.
The whole Nalanda
enterprise rose from a fundamentally false premise: That “Nalanda
was the only institution of learning outside China to which anyone
from ancient China ever went for higher education” (Chancellor
Amartya Sen’s interview in the Indian Express, February 28,
2015).
Regrettably, this
erroneous assertion of Nalanda’s primacy historically marginalises
the contributions of other ancient centres of learning in the
development of the Indian civilisation. Between Nalanda in the east
in Bihar and Takshashila in the west in Rawalpindi district of
Pakistani Punjab, there were many other distinguished places of
learning visited by foreigners.
Obviously, Nalanda
profited from the fact that the distance between Chengdu in China
and Patna is roughly 1,900 km, making Nalanda more accessible to
the ancient Chinese.
The relative quiet
and geographic location that protected the Magadha region from
Central Asian invasions also facilitated Nalanda’s rise to
importance.
Takshashila
benefited from its proximity to the Silk Route, notwithstanding its
location closer to the Khyber Pass, the gateway to the invading
hordes from Central Asia and farther west.
Still, the
Brahmanical culture and the influx of invading peoples prompted the
rise of yet other centres in classical India: Vikramashila in
Patna’s Bhagalpur district was a robust one, matching Nalanda;
Pushpagiri in ancient Kalinga (Odisha) was also a thriving
institution; Dharmapala of the Pala dynasty during the late 8th
century established Odantapuri in Magadha (Patna), as well as
Somapura Mahavihara in Bengal; and in southern India, Travancore
and Cochin were frontiers of learning.
So what should India
do with its ancient centres of learning?
One option is to
turn them into museums, suggested the distinguished economist
Jagdish Bhagwati, which would attract visitors globally and serve
the local community and schools “funded by private philanthropy and
small individual contributions by citizens in what might be called
the ‘Tirupati Temple approach’”.
The Tirupati Temple
attracts more than 100,000 visitors a day, generating a daily
income upward of $150,000. Of course, the popularity of and
devotion to Lord Sri Venkateshwara, the presiding deity of
Tirupati, result from the bhakti tradition rooted inVaisnavism in
south India, which democratised Hinduism, making Sri Venkateshwara
the most accessible of all Hindu gods.
But museums don’t do
well in India. Given the remoteness and rural settings of India’s
ancient learning spots, and their spiritual and artistic quest
aimed at achieving self-realisation, a hybrid model might be better
suited for India: one that incorporates the features of Tirupati
and the Buddhist-oriented Rubin Museum of Art in New
York.
Founded by Donald
and Shelley Rubin, and committed to Tibetan art and Buddhism, its
mission statement is much broader: “The Rubin Museum of Art is an
arts and cultural hub in New York [City] … that inspires visitors
to make connections between contemporary life and the art and ideas
of the Himalayas, India, and neighbouring regions.”
In the City, “Rubin
is a space to contemplate ideas that extend across history and span
human cultures.”
Exploration of
Buddhist spirituality for self-actualisation and cross-cultural
learning is precisely what India’s ancient learning centres
pursued, including at Valabhi.
Following the
collapse of the Guptas in the 5th century, Valabhipura emerged and
thrived as the centre of learning in Saurashtra between the 6th and
12th centuries.
The kingdom of
Valabhi in peninsular Gujarat stood independent of Magadha, with
its capital at Valabhipura.
In the 7th century,
Chinese travellers Hiuen Tsang (Xuanzang, Hsuan Tsang) and I-tsing
(Yijing) compared Valabhipura to Nalanda and with the best centres
of learning in China.
Between AD 400 and
700, many Chinese travellers and Buddhist monks visited India in
search for original Buddhist scriptures in Sanskrit and Pali,
producing cross-fertilisation of ideas and knowledge between the
two great Asian civilisations.
Will India move
quickly to correct course and recapture that vision at its ancient
centres of learning?