The Pragmatism and Compassion of the Kautilyan Taxation System - Sandeep Balakrishna

 Taxation

Taxation is another major area where we see Chanakya’s invisible hand throughout the Hindu civilizational history. The second Adhikarana (Chapter) of the Arthasastra, has a rather compassionate and grounded exposition of the Kautilyan taxation system. In verses six through eight, Chanakya mentions how the king should show Anugraha (favour) to farmers by supplying them seed, cattle, and money for farming, and that they should return it in instalments after reaping harvest. The king should also give them tax breaks in such a way that it “swells the treasury eventually.”

We see an exact replica of this policy in the Vijayanagara Empire. In 1379, Harihara II passed the following order: “by this order, the State has exempted from tax this land which has been brought under cultivation. Further, by making provision for irrigation and by digging canals, [this] village has made many improvements. Rice fields and gardens have been irrigated. In order to continue these improvements, the Emperor gave the people lands which are irrigated by this water tax-free for nine years so that the revenue amounts to 20,000 Pagodas.”

The consequence was, as Kautilya had anticipated so long ago, that the royal treasury “swelled.” Agricultural production touched an all-time high and the tax incentive enabled farmers to produce more.

This compassionate side of the Kautilyan taxation system was also informed with his innate understanding of a simple, verifiable truth: preserving culture preserved and improved the economy. However, this cultural impetus was born from the fact that Kautilya was himself a brilliant exponent of Sanatana Dharma. In the realm of taxation, this translated into the exemption of certain Shulkas (tolls):

1. Items taken by a new bride from her parents’ house to her husband’s house.

2. Items carried by anyone for facilitating the delivery of a woman.

3. Items taken for Puja, Yatra, Yagna, Vrata, etc

4. Items taken for ceremonies like Chaula (tonsuring), Namakarana (naming ceremony), Upanayana (Sacred Thread ceremony), Godana (donating cows), etc.

We see the practical application of this exemption-rule throughout the history of Hindu Empires.

Under the Cholas, an entire village would be exempt from tolls if its members went travelled for attending an out-of-town marriage, Yatra, festival etc.

Next, we have a great story where an Antyaja (people known today as Dalits) was returning to his village from a pilgrimage. He was harassed by the toll-keeper of the Araga region (Malnad). The harasser did not relent even after repeated pleading and the poor Antyaja had to cough up money. Eventually, he made an official complaint. In no time, the local chieftain severely punished the toll-keeper by stripping him of his job and levying a huge penalty.

Next, Kautilya also systematized the practice of making grants of entire villages, lands, etc., in some special cases and exempting them from tax. We see his legacy in this area throughout the history of most Hindu Empires. We have definitive inscriptions and grants right from the Gupta period up to the Marathas, and the Wodeyars, which give us detailed records of this practice. In the Wodeyar rule, this was variously known as Parihara, Maanya, Inaam, etc. However, the term Parihara, which was in vogue for several centuries, was used in the sense of compensation, exemption, grant, etc.

The other area of taxation that can be traced back to Kautilya is what is today known as origin of income. In Kautilya’s period and later as well, this meant identifying the place of origin of an item to be taxed. For example, it would be ridiculous to levy wool tax in a desert region. In fact, just by looking at the list of items he taxes by identifying their geographical origin, we are spellbound by his minute knowledge of Bharatavarsha’s geography and production of commercial goods. Thus, it is unsurprising that the Arthasastra became a pan-Indian work and has exerted such an enormous influence in our history.

Military

Now we can briefly trace Kautilya’s lasting influence on the most important organ of any nation: military strength. In Kautilya’s time, military strength was variously known as bala or danda. He divides troops into six major categories:

1. Maula: hereditary warriors, i.e., people with a lineage of military service.

2. Bhrta or Bhrtaka: hired troops

3. Shreni: troops maintained by guilds and business corporations.

4. Mitra: troops of allies

5. Amitra: troops formerly belonging to the enemy

6. Atavika: hunter-warriors

We see this exact division in the very first sloka of a Sixth Century grant given by Dhruvasena I of the Maitraka dynasty of Valabhi (ruling from the Saurashtra region). The verse says how this mighty king acquired his kingdom with the help of Maula-Bhrata-Mitra-Shreni.

From Valabhi, we can travel to Karnataka. Here, we see the Chalukya emperor Someshwara III writing in detail about the division of the military in his encyclopedic classic, Manasollasa. We notice that he is directly inspired by Chanakya when he says that other divisions of troops are always preferable to Atavikas and Amitras who cannot be fully trusted.

Thus, the more we seek, the deeper we dig, the more examples we find of Kautilya’s eternal imprint on Bharatavarsha’s fortunes and destiny.

In passing, we can also look at another important Kautilyan prescription in Chapter Seven of the Arthasastra:

The acquisition of land is better than that of gold and friend, and the acquisition of gold is better than the acquisition of a friend.

On the surface, this sounds heartless but politics and statecraft is not for the faint-hearted. We must remember the fact that Chanakya’s target audience is the King, and not the proverbial common citizen. But even if we set aside this target audience for a while and examine another historical truth, the lasting significance of this dictum becomes clear: such policies were what precisely kept the Maurya Empire flourishing for nearly 250 years. And these policies are exactly what preserved the Vijayanagara Empire amidst such dangerous and bigoted enemies: the Asuric Bahamani sultans who were the permanent source of danger in the North.

We can examine this pragmatic Kautilyan wisdom using the same Vijayanagara example.

Among all great Hindu Empires, Vijayanagara stands tallest in following this Kautilyan dictum in letter and spirit. From its very founding days, the Vijayanagara monarchs made it their state policy to amass enormous amounts of wealth, which itself was a great source of protection and stability. This wealth allowed them to constantly expand their boundaries, it bought them the loyalties of their vassals, and where dirty tricks were called for, the Vijayanagara kings used dirty tricks.

The stability, peace and prosperity that the Vijayanagara Empire enjoyed for about 250 years, was based on the twin foundations of a large and ferocious military and unrivalled economic might. It did not come by following phony Gandhian appeals to the “innate goodness in the heart of the enemy” and other such pious nonsense. In fact, the last de facto ruler, Aliya Rama Raya tried a version of this Gandhian model to his own peril. He adopted the Bahamani princeling as his son, lavished enormous gifts and honours on him only to be repaid by having his head chopped off.

Courtesy: https://www.dharmadispatch.in/history/the-pragmatism-and-compassion-of-the-kautilyan-taxation-system

The Unknown Story of the Valour of the Yogic Village of Sorade - Sandeep Balakrishna

THE TRANQUILITY OF MALENADU is undoubtedly a blessing but it is also a cloak that conceals thousands of profound stories of history. The curious seeker will be left with wanting more if he as much as parts the bearded lushness of its deceptive shrubs. The dedicated historian will realize the sorry reality of his own mortality the moment he prises open the past of just one precinct, one temple, or one Agrahara. The profound interconnections are delicately bound to one another in a mirror-like fashion of its flora and fauna. The pleasure-seeking traveller, the most unfortunate of all species, will merely marvel at the fuliginous mornings of Malenadu from the illusory luxury of his resort room.

Malenadu has a thousand gates to enter and embrace it. One of the slogans of Hassan is the boast that it is the gateway to Malenadu. It is a well-founded boast but it is also borrowed glory. Like Hassan, other places skirting Malenadu, can claim the same boast. By the mere virtue of proximity, these geographies are indeed fortunate.

But when we push the geography farther away by three hundred kilometres and begin our journey from Bangalore, we arrive at Shivamogga, one of the nerve-centres of Malenadu. And when we travel twenty-seven kilometres westwards from Shivamogga along a crooked line, we arrive at an enchanting forest-pocket named Choradi. 

Choradi is the location of our story.

Today, it is a large village populated by about 2600 people. Its profound history is now as obscure and as inaccessible as the thousands of Malenadu valleys which no one knows about simply because they don’t care.

Its journey roughly begins sometime in the fourth century CE, during the rule of the Kadamba dynasty of Banavasi. Its original name was Soraḍe (ಸೊರಡೆ).

But a slight detour is essential before we narrate the full story.

In 1920-21, the Mysore Archeological Department, visited Choradi and found several valuable stone and other inscriptions in its vicinity. As part of this expedition, they came across the deserted house of a Nadiga (town or village chief or officer) in a village east of Choradi. In its compound, they sighted a key that unlocked a glowing but now-faded gem of history: a stone inscription lying on the ground, battered by eons of natural onslaughts. Its size was modest: 3.3/2.6 feet.

Good things come in small sizes.

The inscription, written in Haḷagannaḍa (Old Kannada) opened a new world.

An Independent, Self-Governing Village Republic

The immediate fact that it revealed was stunning: Soraḍe was an independent village republic. Although the entire region was under the control of the Kadambas, Soraḍe did not owe allegiance to any king. In contemporary verbiage, this village, an Agrahara, was a flourishing and early model of what is today known as self-governing village community. Soraḍe was regulated by the Village Assembly, a ubiquitous feature in the history, structure and functioning of the Hindu administrative system from untold antiquity. The story of Soraḍe brilliantly reveals the historical fact that even the king largely left these villages untouched. The villagers paid no taxes to anyone and managed their affairs with extraordinary competence and justice.

External control and regulation become unnecessary when internal discipline is perfected.

This shows that by all standards, Soraḍe was tightly-knit, prosperous and sizably populous. But more importantly, its people were made of a different material. This is how they describe themselves and the justified pride they take in their village.

"All the inhabitants of the ancient Agrahara of Soraḍe are devoted to the observance of Pranayama and other Yoga practices, and are fully in control of their sense organs."

But the event that occasioned this inscription is the real story.

Once, a bunch of power-drunk officers of the Kadamba ruler Tailapa (II or III) launch an unprovoked raid against Soraḍe in order to steal their cows. They were in for a rude shock. The doughty village police chief, Cīladalāra bōpadalāra met the marauders head on and gave them a thrashing they would never forget. He saved the cows but died a hero in the battle.

Soraḍe sung praises of his undaunted valour, mourned his martyrdom and were convinced that through his meritorious service, he had attained Suraloka, or Svarga or the celestial abode (…bōpadalāra Kādi suralōka prāptan ādaḍe…). The villagers also reserved harsh words for Tailapa himself, branding his officers as “royal cow-lifters”: Kadambara tailapan…Gōva koḷḷ ahitaraṁ.

And then, in a characteristic act of nobility, Mācōja, an important officer of the Village Assembly, ratified the unanimous decision of the village to honour the martyred warrior. This was the decision in official language:

All the inhabitants of the ancient Agrahara of Sorade, devoted to the observance of Pranayama and other Yoga practices, all of them assembled in thousands, made a gift of a wetland and a dry field together with the remission of house-tax and family-tax to Cīladalāra bōpadalāra in appreciation of the victory he won against royal cow lifters on their way to make a raid of cows of the village. WHOEVER TAKES AWAY THIS GIFT WILL BE CAST OUT OF THE COUNTRY.

The last line is an extraordinary reflection of and an unabashed declaration of the fierce and confident spirit of independence of the people of Soraḍe. This is also Yoga. If they could pulverize the royal thieves, they could also safeguard their gift to their beloved martyr. This is the real deal of Sanatana political, social and community history that has been suppressed.

A scene of Bōpadalāra’s battle with the enemies has been engraved on the Soraḍe inscription along with the text. This inscription is just an infinitesimal example of our historical treasure-chest that yields such real-life demonstrations of the innate Hindu nobility shaped by eons of living the Dharmic life, of adhering to the Purushartha ideal and of placing Sanatana values above individualism.

Who knows, you might find a Choradi or Soraḍe in your vicinity.

Courtesy: https://www.dharmadispatch.in/history/the-unknown-story-of-the-valour-of-the-yogic-village-of-sorade

A Glimpse of the Criminal Justice System in Hindu Villages of South India through Historical Anecdotes - Sandeep Balakrishna

THROUGHOUT THE CENTURY of the modern Indian Renaissance, it was an article of truth that one could not offer cogent and honest interpretations of the Sanatana civilization unless one imbibed its spiritual core. Writing in 1927, this is what N.N. Law said:

In the case of the ancient Hindus, the value of the spiritual side of their civilization is very difficult to be realized by a man of the twentieth century because of the frame of mind that is generally developed in him under the influence of the current thoughts and environment. But it was this spiritual culture which was indissolubly bound up with every phase of the ancient Hindu civilization, and influenced and determined…their manners, customs, and institutions, through which their thoughts and feelings found expressions.

Nowhere is this truer than in the political systems, institutions, traditions and practices that Hindus founded and nurtured throughout the ages. More than merely bookish codification, this political system operated via customs, which in turn acquired great authority because they were actually values lived by real people and were generationally transmitted. We cited one such glorious example in our essay on the ancient, Yogic village of Sorade.

Thus, when we remove this spiritual element from our politics and statecraft, we get the crude type of competitive politics that we observe in Western democracies. It is unfortunate that we blindly adopted the same system without first conducting a philosophical debate as to its feasibility for a spiritual civilization like India, which had just emerged from a millennium of oppression. The Western model of democracy is essentially competition and competition divides, and there is no telling when competition culminates in bloodletting. However, the Sanatana theory and practice of statecraft whose roots are moored in Vedanta, recognizes what is known as tara-tama bhava, or the hierarchy inherent in nature. In its political expression, this was transformed as a continuous attempt at harmonizing the various elements of this hierarchy after giving due recognition to the value of each element. This is how social and other conflicts were minimized and a mechanism for self-rectification was built into our civilisation and culture. The inseparable companion of self-correction is self-renewal: the lake renews itself when the silt at its bottom is cleared out. This is the Sanatana method.

The other facet of harmonizing the aforementioned hierarchical elements shows itself in the near-ideal decentralization of the administration, in its widest possible meaning. For several millennia, Bharatavarsha had almost perfected the system of what is today fashionably known as “last mile delivery of governance,” i.e., the village. It is not a coincidence that the luminaries of the modern Indian Renaissance and Mohandas Gandhi repeatedly stressed on the fact that the “real India lives in her villages.”

Successive monarchs throughout our history recognized and respected village autonomy and rarely extended their imperial hand upon it. Quite the contrary. They actually made it a point to honour the village, its headman and its councils. The Gupta, Pallava, Chola, Chalukya, Rashtrakuta, Hoysala, and Vijayangara monarchs made liberal gifts to villages and endowed their temples with various sevas. The reason was rather straightforward: the villages were self-governing in every sense. They knew their place in the hierarchy of the Empire and were endowed as self-restraint. They did not impinge on the affairs of other villages and vice versa. They were the preservers of their own unbroken traditions, which in turn, was a subset of the umbrella of Sanatana Dharma, which they obeyed unquestioned. The king or central government also knew his place in this umbrella: it was impossible for one person to adjudicate on matters purely local or unique to each village or locality. Our greater admiration for this system is the fact that the king had the humility to understand this limitation and conducted himself accordingly. Thus, when we today notice supreme court judges making authoritative pronouncements on every Hindu cultural tradition and even upon our sacred Devatas based on a superficial understanding, it is clear that our democracy seems to be premised on an inversion of Dharma.

The village was an independent republic in a manner of speaking. It had its own administrative machinery, revenue-collection mechanism, police, and above all, the timely delivery of justice. In this essay, we shall look at some glimpses of how justice, especially criminal justice was delivered in the villages of South India. These are derived from epigraphic records spread over seven centuries: from the 11th century to the 18th century, cantered mainly around Tamil Nadu and Kerala.

What Real History Tells us

We first provide some real-life incidents of crime followed by the verdict of the respective village council. All the incidents occurred in various villages in the South Arcot district between the 11th and 12th centuries.

1. Two men had gone out for hunting in the forest. One of them, endowed with poor marksmanship, mistakenly shot his companion with the arrow which he had aimed at a deer. A case was lodged. The verdict: the crime was unpremeditated, and the shooter was required to give a gift of 64 cows to the Tiruttandonri Aludiyar Temple for burning a lamp to the deity.

2. In a friendly swordfight in which the practitioners tested their skills, a thrust by the sword unfortunately killed one of the participants. The verdict: the offender had to provide 32 cows for the burning of a lamp in the Tirunageshwaram-Udaiyar Temple.

3. A drunk husband, in a fit of anger, pushed his wife down and the poor woman died. The verdict: the guilty man had to work free of cost at the local temple for a specified period. At the end of each day, he had to light a lamp at the same Tiruttandonri Aludiyar Temple and recite stotrams praying for the peace of his wife’s Atman.

4. An ill-tempered mother once flung a stick at her daughter. However, the stick missed its target and instead hit another child who was standing nearby. Twenty days later, the child died as a result of the injury. The verdict: the husband of the woman had to present 32 cows to the Urbagangondarulina-Nayanar Temple for the merit of the deceased child.

All the four instances are clear demonstrations of what is known as prayaschitta or expiation or atonement, one of the main pillars of the Hindu justice system. It is equally clear that this was not just any form of prayaschitta but a specific one involving donation and service to the temple. The annals of Sanatana literature—both sacred and worldly—are replete with hundreds of stories and real-life examples of the value of prayaschitta as a form of punishment, a guiding ideal of life, and as a soul-purifying agent. In these four instances, it is significant that prayaschitta was recommended because of the purely accidental nature of the offence. Even more significant is the fact that these judgements were engraved on the walls of the respective temples.

On the purely mundane plane of life, the donations to these temples also helped to keep the economic engine of the villages well-oiled.

We can also cite some more examples of a similar nature.

1. A merchant had a concubine whom another man attempted to outrage. The merchant stabbed the latter and killed him. The verdict: strictly speaking, this was not a crime in those days. However, it was also held that the act of murder should not go unpunished. And so, after the village council consulted with the dead man’s relatives, the merchant was ordered to offer a perpetual lamp to the Tanronri-Alvar Temple in the name of the deceased. Period: 1012 CE, Tamil Nadu.

2. A village official demanded heavy taxes from a woman and repeatedly harassed her. The unfortunate woman took poison and died. The over-zealous tax-collector was found guilty and excommunicated from the village. He was also ordered by the village assembly to expiate his sin by paying 32 Kasu (money, cash or coins) to the Tiruttandonri-Mahadeva Temple and lighting a perpetual lamp. Period: 1054 CE, Tamil Nadu.

3. A poor man named Chedirayan was responsible for the death of a fellow villager by some indiscreet act of his. The verdict: the murderer’s uncle was ordered to give a gift of lands to the temple to atone for his nephew’s crime. Period: 1170 CE, Kerala.

4. Two men severely beat a man who had allowed his buffalo to trespass into their field. The buffalo had caused substantial damage to the crops. Unfortunately, the victim died. The verdict: the Bhattas of the village ordered the offenders to provide for a lamp in the temple. Period: 1190 CE, Kerala.

Punishing Royal Offenders

Apart from the common citizenry, royalty was also unexempt from punishments ranging from the mild to the harsh. We can cite a few instances of this from the Travancore kingdom.

First, we have an interesting inscription from Kollam dated 1702 CE. It narrates how a high-ranking temple official assaulted some of his juniors. As punishment, he was suspended and ordered to pay a huge fine to the temple treasury.

Now we can see some instances of royalty being punished.

1. The Chera king Kulashekhara-Chakravartin (1102 CE) was once summoned to trial by the town council, which met in Panaingavu Palace at Kollam. He had been found guilty of killing some Ariyars (Brahmanas) who were functioning as Archakas in the Rameshwara Temple. The verdict: the king had to make a substantial land grant to the temple and had to undergo some prescribed penance for atonement.

2. In 1344 CE, Vira Keralavarman of Tiruvadi was found guilty of murdering some Brahmanas and other temple officials. The verdict: he was ordered to pay land compensation to the survivors. He also had to make substantial donations to the temple.

3. In 1382 CE, Vira Martandavarman atoned for certain atrocities he had committed against various people, by giving the gift of silver pots and fines to the temple.

4. In 1416 CE, Vira Ravivarman paid a huge penalty for having killed some men in a petty scuffle. The survivors were suitably compensated.

The epigraphic records that narrate these incidents say that these penalties were called garvakkattu or amercement for high-handed conduct. The delinquent kings were forced to pay them in order to pacify popular anger and to bring the offender to justice no matter how powerful he or she was. The penalty and punishments were awarded by the local assemblies which wielded enormous power in those days. Clearly, it is noteworthy that the kings allowed themselves to be fined. But then, they were merely adhering to the timeless Sanatana dictum that the power of the king is derived by the popular consent of the people. This is the exact opposite of that criminal generalization peddled by our “history” books about Hindu kings as being uniformly despotic. Indeed, as DVG correctly observes: “wherever there was a Hindu sovereign, there was no tyranny.”

Hindu kings subjecting themselves to trial and punishment also finds several echoes in Sanatana jurisprudence. It may be summarized as follows: the ruler, who is a servant of the people and receives his revenue of rakshabhaga, or remuneration for his services, is thus logically liable to pay fines for wrongdoing.

In a majority of cases, justice and punishment depended on Deshachara (customs specific to a region) and Kulachara (customs specific to clans, etc). Thus, some village assemblies or councils or other local bodies which wielded judicial powers within their own jurisdictions, did not award punishments commensurate with the degree and circumstances of the crimes which they adjudicated. It could be argued today that the clemency they showed towards the murderer was quite unjustified. It also appears that they only provided for the spiritual welfare of the soul of the murdered individuals by ruling that the culprits shall offer lamps, donate cows, and similar Dharmic actions.

One reason for this could be a conscious and time-honoured custom of trying to reduce the tendencies of extreme vengeance on the part of the victim’s survivors. Simultaneously, it was also meant to induce the feeling of remorse within the perpetrator by putting him in front of the Devatas, the real judges. The idea of all Hindu lawgivers was to mitigate ill-will within the society as far as possible through a determined pursuit of the spiritual. Conscious forgiveness on the part of the survivor and conscious expiation on the part of the perpetrator are two sides of the same coin.

In a paper written in 1925, the Trivandrum-based academic, Dr. Ramanatha Ayyar puts this beautifully:

This humane legislation compares very favourably with the barbaric severity of the penal laws of the so-called ‘enlightened’ nations of the West, which till the last century punished such trivial offences as the breaking of a window and stealing of two pence worth of paint, with death.

There is much food for thought when we think about it in a different light: violent prosecution of a criminal as opposed to ordering the criminal to light lamps in a temple daily without fail. Hopeful reform and self-purification.

Our ancients chose wisely.

Courtesy: https://www.dharmadispatch.in/culture/a-glimpse-of-the-criminal-justice-system-in-hindu-villages-of-south-india-through-historical-anecdotes

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