## 1. Life and works



Even though legendary accounts abound, very little can be said
precisely about Nagarjuna's life. That
Nagarjuna was a Buddhist monk who lived some time between
150 and 250 CE, probably mainly in southern India is rarely disputed.
If we want to go beyond these bare facts, however, intricate
historical detective work is required. Some interesting connections
have been discovered by this but they are of limited importance in the
present context which is primarily aimed at providing information
about Nagarjuna's philosophical works. The interested
reader is referred to Mabbett 1998 and Walser 2005 for further
discussion.



Fortunately there is more information about
Nagarjuna's works than there is about his life but the
situation is still far from ideal: it is not easy to come up with a
precise list of texts Nagarjuna composed. This is partly due
to the fact that different authors bearing the name
"Nagarjuna" might have lived during different
periods of the development of Buddhist thought in India, and partly
due to the tendency of attributing newly composed works to the great
authorities of the past. For the present purposes, however, we can
divide Nagarjuna's works into three main groups
(further discussion can be found in Ruegg 1981, Lindtner 1982). In the
list I give here the ascription of the works mentioned to
Nagarjuna is largely uncontested. References to reliable
translations into English are provided in the list of primary sources
in the bibliography.


1. The argumentative works
	1. The Fundamental Wisdom of the Middle Way (MMK)
	(*Mulamadhyamakakarika*). This is the most
	important of Nagarjuna's works. In its 450 stanzas it
	expounds the entire compass of his thought and constitutes the central
	text of the "philosophy of the Middle Way". It has been
	commented upon by a large number of later authors. (Ye 2011 provides a
	useful edition of the Sanskrit, Tibetan, and Chinese recensions of
	this work).
	2. The Sixty Stanzas on Reasoning
	(*Yuktisastika*). A shorter treatise,
	discussing the notions of emptiness and dependent origination
	(*pratityasamutpada*).
	3. The Seventy Stanzas on Emptiness
	(*Sunyatasaptati*). Another short treatise,
	dealing in addition with questions of agency and the two truths.
	4. The Dispeller of Disputes (*Vigrahavyavartani*). In
	this work of seventy verses with an autocommentary in prose
	Nagarjuna responds to a set of specific objections raised
	against his system. These objections come both from Buddhist and
	non-Buddhist opponents and initiate discussions of topics which do not
	get much coverage in Nagarjuna's other works (in
	particular epistemology and the philosophy of language).
	5. The Treatise on Pulverization (*Vaidalyaprakarana*). A
	very interesting and difficult work in which Nagarjuna sets
	out to refute the logical categories of the non-Buddhist Nyaya
	school. Like d. this text has never attracted the attention of
	classical commentators.
	6. The Precious Garland (*Ratnavali*). A long text
	addressed to a king containing a comprehensive discussion of ethical
	questions. Because discussion of the theory of emptiness plays a
	comparatively minor role in this text it is sometimes subsumed under
	the epistolary works (see below).
2. The hymns (*Catuhstava*). There is some discussion which
of the various hymns ascribed to Nagarjuna actually make up
the quartet of 'four hymns' often referred to in the
commentarial literature. They differ in interesting respects from the
works mentioned in the preceding section. Common to many of them is a
positive conception of ultimate truth which ascribes specific
qualities to it and gets close to the theory of Buddha-nature
(*tathagatagarbha*) that became very important in the
later development of Buddhist thought.
3. The epistolary works. The Friendly Letter (*Suhrllekha*),
like the Precious Garland (*Ratnavali*), which is
sometimes assigned to this group is a work addressed to a king. This
fact may explain why the text is primarily concerned with ethical
matters. It devotes relatively little space to the kind of
philosophical discussion which is Nagarjuna's most
characteristic contribution to Buddhist thought.


## 2. Emptiness and *svabhava*



The central concept around which all of Nagarjuna's
philosophy is built is the notion of emptiness
(*sunyata*). Emptiness is of course always the
emptiness of something, and the something Nagarjuna has in
mind here is *svabhava*. Different terms have been used to
translate this word into English: "inherent existence" and
"intrinsic nature" appear to be the more popular choices,
but "substance" and "essence" have also been
proposed. None of these cover the full complexity of the term,
however. We therefore have to give some more detailed account of the
way *svabhava* is characterized in
Nagarjuna's thought. By understanding what empty
things are supposed to be empty of we simultaneously gain a more
precise understanding of the concept of emptiness.



We can distinguish two main conceptual dimensions of the concept of
*svabhava*, an ontological one, which refers to a
particular way in which objects exist, and a cognitive one, which
refers to a way in which objects are conceptualized by human beings.
Within the ontological dimension we can distinguish three different
understandings of *svabhava*: in terms of essence, in
terms of substance, and in terms of absolute reality. (Even though
this distinction is largely based on Madhyamaka authors later than
Nagarjuna it is still a useful heuristic tool for
understanding the philosophical point he was trying to make.)



If we understand *svabhava* in terms of essence it has to
be considered a property an object could not lose without ceasing to
be that very object: the *svabhava* of fire is to be hot,
the *svabhava* of water to be wet: whatever ceases to be
hot is no longer fire, whatever ceases to be wet is no longer water.
According to this understading *svabhava* is also
identified with the kind of specific qualities
(*svalaksana*) that allow an observer to
distinguish an object from other things: by knowing that something is
hot, together with a variety of other *svalaksana*s
we know that what we have in front of us is fire rather than something
else. It is important to note that this concept of
*svabhava* (which plays only a small role in
Nagarjuna's writings but becomes more important in
later Madhyamaka writers) is not the target of the Madhyamaka
critique. When Nagarjuna argues that things are empty of
*svabhava* it is not this notion of essence he is
concerned with. The philosophically more important understanding of
*svabhava* is an understanding in terms of substance.



In Buddhist philosophical thought preceding Nagarjuna we
find the distinction between primary existents (*dravyasat*)
and secondary existents (*prajnaptisat*). Primary
existents constitute the objective and irreducible constituents of the
world out there while secondary existents depend on our conceptual and
linguistic practices. Early schools of Buddhist metapysics hold that
only irreducible *dharma*s (entities that may be conceptualized
analogous to particularized properties or tropes (see Goodman 2004))
are really real whereas everything else, including shoes and ships and
sealing-wax is a mere aggregate of such *dharma*s constructed
by our conceptualizing mind. According to this theory the entire world
around us would be relegated to the status of mere secondary
existents, apart from the property particulars which are primary
existents. In this context *svabhava* is equated with
primary existence and denotes a specific ontological status: to exist
with *svabhava* means to be part of the basic furniture of
the world, independent of anything else that also happens to exist.
Such objects provide the ontological rock-bottom on which the diverse
world of phenomena rests. They provide the end-point of a chain of
ontological dependence relations.



Nagarjuna argues, however, that there is no such end-point
and denies the existence of an ontological foundation (see Westerhoff
2017. For the relation of this idea to the debate about the
well-foundedness of grounding in contemporary metaphysics see chapter
3 of Westerhoff 2020). This fact is sometimes used as support of the
accusation that Madhyamaka is really a nihilistic doctrine, a doctrine
that nothing exists. For if the secondary existent is reduced to the
primary, and if there is no primary, what is there left? This
interpretation has a relatively long history, beginning in ancient
India and continuing to find supporters nowadays (see Spackman 2014,
Westerhoff 2016). Nevertheless, there are powerful systematic and
historical reasons against it. First of all, it is not clear that this
kind of ontological nihilism is in fact a consistent position (if
there is nothing, is there not at least the fact that there is
nothing, i.e. something? See, however, Westerhoff 2021). Secondly, the
Madhyamikas themselves are very clear that their position avoids
both of the extreme views, the view that believes in the existence of
*svabhava* as well as its nihilistic opposite.



It is the understanding of *svabhava* as a primary
existent or substance that constitutes the main target of
Nagarjuna's philosophical criticism. Before we have a
closer look at the form this criticism takes we must briefly mention
the final ontological understanding of *svabhava*, namely
*svabhava* as absolute reality. If *svabhava*
is regarded as the true nature of phenomena it is sometimes
characterized as not brought about by any causal process, as
unchangeable and as independent of any other object. The interesting
problem arising here is that for the Madhyamaka the true nature of
phenomena is emptiness, i.e. the absence of *svabhava*
understood as substance, and that *svabhava* understood in
this way is *also* characterized as not brought about by any
causal process, as unchangeable and as independent of any other
object. So it seems to be the case that something that has all these
properties must exist (since there is *svabhava* which is
the true nature of phenomena) and must not exist (since, the
Madhyamaka argues, *svabhava* understood as substance does
not exist). In the Buddhist commentarial literature we find several
different ways of dissolving this contradiction (for more discussion
see Westerhoff 2009: 40-46). One way of tackling the issue is by
differentiating two senses in which *svabhava* can be
"independent of any other object". This can be understood
as the familiar understanding of substance as a primary existent noted
above. But it can also be understood as meaning "not dependent
on any specific phenomenon". We could then argue that emptiness
as the true nature of phenomena is to be understood as
*svabhava* and thus as independent only in the second, but
not in the first sense. This is due to the fact that
*svabhava* in the sense rejected by Madhyamaka thinkers is
regarded as a superimposition mistakenly projected onto objects which
in fact lack it (see below). Thus emptiness only exists as long as
*svabhava* understood as substance is mistakenly projected
onto some object or other. Emptiness does not depend on any specific
phenomenon to exist, but there has to be some phenomenon mistakenly
conceived for emptiness to exist. Emptiness is not some kind of
primordial reality *ante rem* but a corrective to a mistaken
view of how the world exists. This account boils down to saying that
there really are only two ways of understanding
*svabhava*: as essence and as substance. What was earlier
called *svabhava* as absolute reality is only a specific
form of *svabhava* understood as essence: in the same way
as heat is an essential quality of fire emptiness is an essential
quality of all phenomena. Things could not be the things they are
without being empty.



In concluding our exposition of the different conceptual dimensions
that make up the concept of *svabhava* in Madhyamaka
thought we finally have to consider the cognitive understanding of the
term. This constitutes an indispensable component of
Nagarjuna's concept since for him the purpose of
determining the existence or non-existence of *svabhava*
is not just to arrive at a theoretically satisfactory understanding of
reality but is taken to have far more comprehensive implications for
how we interact with the world. Realization of the non-existence of
*svabhava* is supposed to have important soteriological
consequences as part of Buddhist practice; ultimately it is understood
to be the way to the liberation from existential suffering, the final
of the famous four noble truths expounded by the Buddha. It is
important to realize that *svabhava* understood as
substance that Nagarjuna rejects is not a theoretical posit,
an entity an insufficiently sophisticated philosopher might postulate,
but a kind of cognitive default, a way of superimposing something onto
the world that is automatic and immediate and not the result of
detailed theoretical reflection. We carry out such superimpositions
when we regard the rapidly changing set of psycho-physical aggregates
that constitutes us as a single, permanent, independent self but also
in our daily interaction with other persons, medium-sized dry goods,
linguistic representations and so forth. These then lead to all sorts
of painful emotional entanglements and constitute the key source of
suffering described in the Buddhist teachings. It is crucial to keep
in mind in this context that the Madhyamaka distinguishes between the
understanding of the absence of *svabhava* or emptiness
and its realization. The former is a purely intellectual response
resulting from being convinced by the Madhyamaka arguments; it does
not entail that phenomena will no longer appear as having
*svabhava*. They will only cease to appear in this way as
a result of the realization of emptiness. The aim of Madhyamaka
thought is therefore not simply to present an accurate account of the
nature of the world, but to bring about a cognitive shift, a change in
the way in which the world appears to us. It is useful to compare this
situation with the perception of an optical illusion such as the
Muller-Lyer illusion in which two lines of equal length appear to
be of different length. By using a ruler we can convince ourselves
that our perception deceives us; by learning more about perceptive
mechanisms we can understand why we perceive the lines in the way they
do. But none of this implies that the lines will in the end
*look* as if they are equally long.


## 3. Arguments against *svabhava*



As we noted earlier the understanding of *svabhava* in
terms of substance (which is rejected by Nagarjuna)
conceives of it as an end-point in a series of dependence relations.
Various kinds of dependence relations are discussed in the Madhyamaka
literature; the most important ones for our purposes are mereological
dependence (the dependence of a composite object on its parts), causal
dependence (the dependence of an effect on its cause) and conceptual
dependence (the dependence of an object on the conceptualizing mind).
For the Madhyamaka these dependence relations are equivalent to the
extent that none ever bottoms out. They do have different weight in
their philosophical argumentation, however, since only establishing
that conceptual dependence does not have a foundation is sufficient
for establishing the absence of *svabhava* in the
comprehensive sense intended by the Madhyamaka philosophers. Even if
there was no foundation for mereological dependence, i.e. even if
there were no partless particles, or no foundation of causal
dependence, i.e. no first cause there would still remain an important
sense in which things exist substantially, namely independent of human
cognition and conceptualization. Only if we can show that no objects
exist independently with respect to conceptual dependence are we able
to establish Nagarjuna's anti-foundationalism in the
full sense.



It is interesting to note that despite the fact that arguing for the
non-existence of *svabhava* and the establishment of the
theory of universal emptiness is the central concern of
Nagarjuna's philosophy we do not find a "master
argument" to accomplish this (see Siderits 2000: 228 and 2003:
147). Of course we do find systematic lists of the core Madhyamaka
arguments, in particular in the later scholastic developments of this
school but none of them is regarded as the single argument that
settles the matter once and for all. The reason for this comes
directly from the comprehensive rejection of *svabhava*.
If nothing has its nature intrinsically and independently there can
also be no argument for a particular thesis that by its very nature
establishes its conclusion independent of the context in which it is
made and independent of the audience towards which it is directed. The
Madhyamaka refutation of *svabhava* must proceed in a
step-by-step manner. If there is someone who believes that some
objects of kind *x* exist substantially the Madhyamaka will
produce an argument to show that these objects really lack
*svabhava*. For another opponent, who thinks that not the
*x*s but the *y*s are substantial a different argument
has to be used. It is plausible, however, that there are certain areas
of human thought in which human beings inevitably superimpose
*svabhava* on things which in fact lack it. A great deal
of Madhyamaka literature is devoted to the discussion of these, and to
arguments showing their lack of *svabhava*. The following
section will examine some of these areas more closely.


### 3.1 Causation



In Nagarjuna's discussion of causation we usually find
him investigating a set of alternative ways in which cause and effect
could be related. Each of these is subsequently found to be
unsatisfactory. As a result Nagarjuna does not conclude that
causation is impossible, but that our understanding of the causal
relation must be based on some faulty premiss. This premiss is the
presupposition that cause and effect exist with their own
*svabhava*. What this means is that they are qualitatively
distinct, independent objects: first the cause exists without the
effect, later the effect can exist without the cause, once the cause
has passed out of existence. Apart from being independent of each
other, cause and effect are also independent of the cognizing mind.
The chain of causes and conditions is something that exists out there
in the world, independent of human interests and concerns.
Nagarjuna intends to show that because there is something
wrong with *all* the understandings of causation usually
encountered, the difficulty is likely to lie in a mistaken supposition
that underlies all of them.



In his most well-known discussion of causation Nagarjuna
distinguishes four ways in which things could be causally be brought
about. They could be produced


1. from themselves, or
2. from other things, or
3. from both themselves and from other things, or
4. from neither.


#### 3.1.1 Self-causation



The idea that things are their own causes is a somewhat peculiar one.
The Buddhist discussion usually distinguishes two different views
under this heading: that cause and effect are the very same object,
and that the effect is somehow contained in the cause. One plausible
candidate for the identity of cause and effect is persistence through
time. The idea here is that the cause of the present rock is the rock
one second ago, and that these two rocks are the very same thing. Of
course this only works if we are not endurantists, i.e. if we do not
think that there are different temporal slices all of which make up
the rock. If this is the case then what we are looking at here is one
part of an object causing another, rather than one object causing
itself. For a perdurantist who believes there is some object wholly
present during each time there is the difficulty that we usually
believe causes to temporally precede their effects. No object can be
temporally prior to itself, however.



Assuming that the effect is somehow already contained in the cause (or
in the causal field, that is in the collection of the cause and all
the necessary background conditions) might be a more interesting way
of spelling out self-causation. This also entails that when the cause
is present, the effect is present too, contrary to our usual
assumption that it is the cause which brings about the effect at a
later time. Yet we are not able to find the effect if we look amongst
the components of the causal field: amongst petrol, oxygen, a spark
and so forth there is no explosion to be found. This does not mean
that given a sufficiently detailed description of the causal field we
might not be able to infer the effect. But this would hardly be
sufficient to allow us to speak of the containment of the effect in
the cause.


#### 3.1.2 Causation from other things



To assume that cause and effect are distinct phenomena might strike us
as the most natural understanding of causation. Yet
Nagarjuna argues that cause and effect cannot be
substantially distinct. This is because the effect depends
*existentially* on the cause (if the cause did not exist the
effect would not exist) and the cause depends at least
*notionally* on the effect (if there was no effect the cause
would not be called "cause"). The kind of independence
demanded by substantial existence, by existence by
*svabhava*, is simply not available for things which are
cause and effect. On the other hand if we had a set of objects that
were distinct in the required sense it would be hard to see how we
could make sense of any of these being either cause or effect since no
pair of objects from the set would be connected by a dependence
relation. If two objects are distinct by *svabhava* there
cannot be any dependence relation of any kind holding between them.
For any two objects from this set that we label "cause"
and "effect" we can similarly imagine reversing the
assignment as the existence of any one does not influence the
existence of any other. But this implies that it cannot be the causal
relation we are talking about, since in general the roles of cause and
effect cannot be switched.


#### 3.1.3 Causation from both themselves and from other things



The most convincing way of understanding this alternative is in terms
of a cause that contains the effect in itself as a potentiality that
is actualized given certain conditions. A block of marble (the cause)
may be said to contain a statue (the result) as a potentiality that is
made real by a variety of supporting conditions, namely the
sculptor's actions. Here cause and effect are not wholly
distinct (since the block and the statue share some parts) nor are
they identical (since the block is not the statue), thereby avoiding
the difficulties implied by the preceding two accounts. This account
is fine as far as it goes, but it would not support the contention
that either cause or effect exist substantially, with
*svabhava*. The supporting conditions could not exist
without the block and the statue could not exist without either or
these. None of the objects involved have the roles they play from
their own side, independently of one another.


#### 3.1.4 Causation from neither



A final possibility to envisage is that causation is neither
self-causation nor causation from a distinct object. This is usually
understood as the belief in the complete absence of causation since
the first three alternatives are taken to be exhaustive: if these
alternatives are ruled out the only remaining possibility is that
there are no causal relata since there is no causal relation. A major
difficulty with this view is that it fails to account for our ability
to grasp facts about the world, since our epistemic access is most
plausibly understood as causal. If there is no causal interaction
between our sense-organs and the objects out there how is knowledge of
the world possible at all? A further concern is the fact that the
world *appears* to us to be causally ordered. It is not the
case that more or less anything follows from anything else, but
certain things only follow from certain other things. As such an
account that denies the existence of causal relations altogether
cannot be a satisfactory account of the world as we experience it.



Neither of the four alternatives just examined allows a plausible
understanding of cause and effect as existing with
*svabhava*. Nagarjuna therefore argues that
there must be something wrong with the assumption that cause and
effect exist in this way. They are not independent but mutually
dependent. The dependence of the effect on the cause is easy to
understand: if there was no cause there would not have been any
effect. But how can we make sense of the reverse? Even if the cause
had not produced the effect if would still have existed (even though
it would not have been called "cause"). There are three
different ways in which we can make sense of
Nagarjuna's assertion that the cause also depends
*existentially* on the effect.



(a) Firstly we can argue that if Nagarjuna debates with an
opponent who holds that since a cause has its property of being a
cause essentially, its notional dependence on the effect will entail
its existential dependence. For something being a cause essentially
means that this is a property it could not lose without ceasing to be
that very object. But since the presence of this property depends on
existence of the effect, the existence of the cause as that very
object also depends on the existence of the effect.



(b) A second interpretation which does not have to assume that causes
are essentially causes argues that Nagarjuna does not intend
to refer to the existential dependence of some particular cause on its
effect but rather to the existential dependence of the
*property* of being a cause on the property of being an effect.
If an object a falling under property *P* notionally depends on
something falling under *Q* this means that the property P
existentially depends on the property *Q*, as *P* can
only exist if some object falls under the property 'identical
with the property *Q*', i.e., if the property *Q*
exists.



The property 'being the left side of my body' depends
existentially on the property 'being the right side of my
body', even though the objects falling under each do not
existentially depend on one another. This is due to the fact that one
property could not exist without the other one, but the objects
falling under them could. In the case of cause and effect we could
therefore interpret Nagarjuna as saying that the properties
'being a cause' and 'being an effect' depend
existentially on one another, even though the existential dependence
of objects falling under them is not symmetric: the effect depends
existentially on the cause, but the cause does not need the effect for
its existence.



(c) The third and final reading claims that while Nagarjuna
undoubtedly also wanted to assert the existential dependence of the
properties 'being a cause' and 'being an
effect' on each other he moreover made the claim that not only
the particular object which is the effect needs the cause for its
existence, but the cause also needs the effect. Such a reading can be
supported by considering an entire causal field, that is the cause
together with the necessary background conditions, rather than just
particular causes. A causal field is a cognitive artefact, a
collection of objects assembled with the sole purpose of explaining
why a particular effect came about. Divorced from this explanatory
role there is no reason for introducing the concept at all. We might
therefore want to argue that the causal field also depends for its
existence on the effect it produces. This is of course not to say that
every member of the causal field existentially depends on the effect
they jointly bring about: the spark, petrol, and so forth would still
exist, even if they for some reason did not manage to bring about an
explosion. But the collection only exists if there is some effect it
causes. Whether we want to argue that a causal field depends for its
existence on the effect it brings about is intimately connected with
our view of the existence of collections. We might either think that
whenever the are some objects there is the collection of those
objects. Or we might deny that every arbitrary assembly of objects
constitutes a collection. We would then argue that for some objects to
form a collection there must be something which makes them hold
together as a collection, for example that they all exemplify a
property, or that they were put together for a specific purpose. If we
adopt the first view of collections then clearly a causal field will
only depend notionally on its effect, since 'being a causal
field bringing about that effect' is only one way in which we
can refer to the pre-existent collection that contains all the
elements of the causal field, but not anything which brings it about.
Adopting the second conception, however, it may be the case that the
only thing that binds all the members of the causal field together is
that they are considered to be the things that jointly bring about a
particular effect. In the absence of this effect the collection
disintegrates and ceases to exist.



Nagarjuna seems to favour the second interpretation when he
asserts that a cause could not exist without an effect. (MMK 4.3) It
is significant that what is denied here is not just *the ascription
of the label* 'cause' to some object because it is
related to some other object, the effect, but the *existence*
of the cause in the absence of the effect. Nagarjuna
endorses not just the uncontroversial notional dependence of the cause
on its effect, but its existential dependence as well. Applied to the
discussion of causal fields this implies that a causal field can only
exist if the effect it brings about does, and for this reason cannot
be taken to exist whenever all of its members do. If we adopt reading
c) given above we have to conclude that for Nagarjuna causes
and effects are both notionally and existentially dependent on one
another. They therefore cannot exist from their own side, irrespective
of the existence of one another. Moreover, they also depend for their
existence on us, because it is our cognitive act of cutting up the
world of phenomena in the first place that creates the particular
assembly of objects that constitutes a causal field, which then in
turn gives rise to the notions of cause and effect. This entails that
the causal field, cause and effect are empty of
*svabhava*.



An important point we must not lose sight of in the context of the
discussion of causation is that while showing that objects stand in
causal relations is sufficient for showing that they are empty of
*svabhava* in some way (since they do not exist
independently of one another), this on its own would not be sufficient
support for Nagarjuna's thesis of universal emptiness.
Just the fact that some objects are cause and effect does not mean
that they exist in any way dependent on human cognition, and it is
this dependence on cognition or conceptualization that is generally
regarded as the most profound understanding of emptiness. (It is also
useful to note in this context that the Abhidharmikas, a Buddhist
school that was one of the main targets of Nagarjuna's
criticism saw no conflict between objects being causally produced and
their possessing *svabhava*.) Mark Siderits (2004: 411)
has pointed out that what we have to argue first of all is that the
objects we usually interact with are causally produced so that
speaking about them involves essential reference to causality. We
further need to appeal to the principle that if some object
essentially involves a property that is conceptually constructed then
the object is conceptually constructed too. Chess games are
conceptually constructed, and since "the book describing the
longest chess game ever played" essentially involves chess games
it is conceptually constructed too. But, as Nagarjuna set
out to show, since the causal relation does not exist from its own
side, is conceptually constructed, and therefore empty, each causally
related object must be so constructed and therefore empty in the most
profound sense of being conceptually constructed.


### 3.2 Change



The discussion of change, in particular that of spatio-temporal
change, of motion, occupies a prominent position in
Nagarjuna's arguments. In the second chapter of the
MMK we find a long discussion of the impossibility of motion.
Parallels with Zeno's paradoxes have been drawn and it has been
argued that Nagarjuna's aim was to refute certain
views of the structure of space and time (Siderits and O'Brien
1976). Nevertheless, there is some evidence that Nagarjuna
two main aims were something else: firstly, to reject a substantialist
interpretation of some of the key notions of the Buddhist teaching
and, secondly, to defend a specific view of the relation between
individuals and their properties.



Nagarjuna employs two key arguments that we might want to
call the property-absence argument and the property-duplication
argument. The first (MMK 2:3-3, 9-10) questions the
suitability of such statements like "the mover moves"
because there are difficulties conceiving of a mover without motion.
Nagarjuna argues that there is a difficulty with thinking of
the individual (the mover) and the property (the motion) in the
familiar way, as mutually independent objects. In the case of a blue
vase the vase and the blueness can exist without each other (at least
as long as we are not trope theorists) whereas there clearly is no
mover that does not move. The two stand in a dependence relation since
the individual depends on the property it instantiates. It therefore
cannot exist by *svabhava*.



The second argument (MMK 2:5, 11) states that if we were to think in
terms of a mover moving there would be two motions rather than one:
that motion which makes the mover a mover, and that motion by which it
moves. The reason for this is that a mover is an example of an
individual where a distinction between its constitutive and
instantiated properties cannot be drawn. The constitutive property is
what constitutes an individual (something is a cube, or a pot, or a
vase) and the instantiated properties are had by the individual (it is
heavy, or round, or blue). If we apply these notions to the case of
the moving mover we would require two different motions: one which
constitutes the individual and one which is its property. But of
course there is only one motion: that of the moving mover. The point
Nagarjuna makes here is not just there are problems when
analyzing statements like "the mover moves", "the
thunder roars" and so forth in terms of an ontology of
constitutive and instantiated properties but the more general
observation that this has implications for the way we can apply these
terms even to more usual statements like "the vase is
blue". That the distinction between constitutive and
instantiated properties makes no sense in the case of "the mover
moves" shows that there is no substantial distinction between
these properties, and that the conceptualization of a situation in
terms of them is purely a result of cognitive convenience. Since we
want to stress certain features we speak of a blue, round vase instead
of a vase-shaped, round, blue thing or a vase-shaped, blue, round
thing, but this in no way implies that there is a fundamental
difference between the properties "being a vase",
"being round", and "being blue" so that only
one of them is constitutive while the others are instantiated. There
is no ready-made world that is already sliced in such a way.



When Nagarjuna argues that neither mover nor motion exist by
*svabhava* he first of all makes an important point about
some central concepts of the Buddhist world-view. The goal of the
Buddhist path is the liberation from cyclic existence, a form of
existence that is nothing but the moving about (*samsr*)
through a succession of rebirths. When Nagarjuna speaks
about the mover (*gati*) he has in mind both the familiar
motion from one end of the road to another one as well as the motion
from one life to the next. Nagarjuna's arguments to
the effect that mover and motion are interdependent, that the
beginning and end of motion are not to be found "out
there" in the world entail that the person who is reborn, the
cyclic existence he is reborn in and the liberation from that cyclic
existence do not exist substantially.



Nagarjuna's second main point is that his analysis of
motion has specific implications for our view of individuals and
properties. The aim of his arguments is to show that the distinction
between individuals and properties is not one which exists independent
of our conceptualizations. As the talk about the
'property' instantiated by an individual like a mover or a
clap of thunder had to be explained in terms of a single feature seen
in two different ways - as constitutive and as instantiating
- in the same way talk of the properties of ordinary individuals
such as a blue vase could be seen to be equally a reflection of the
division of their features into constitutive and instantiating
properties, something which is just a reflection of our pragmatic
concerns in conceptualizing the individual in question, but not a
reflection of its intrinsic nature.



For the Madhyamaka school conceiving of substances as individuals
instantiating properties is deeply unsatisfactory. For the sake of
illustration (and using an Indian example) assume a substantially
real, fundamental entity the only property of which is being spatially
extended. Now what is the individual in which this property inheres?
As it is not characterized by any other properties it must be some
kind of propertyless bare particular. What makes it a bare particular?
Given that we are dealing with substances here it should not depend on
some other object. But if it is a bare particular by
*svabhava* and being a bare particular is therefore its
intrinsic nature we are in the same situation as we were with the
spatially extended entity. For now we can ask what the individual is
in which being a bare particular inheres, and then we are well on our
way into an infinite regress. Note that this problem does not got away
if we feel uneasy about the property 'being a bare
particular' and do not want to admit it. For we have to assume
that the individual has some determinate nature due to which it is a
bearer of its properties and the difficulty will just reappear with
whatever we take such a nature to be.



It does not help much if we conceive of substances as particularized
properties or tropes instead. For then it is unclear how we can
individuate one spatial-extension-trope from another. We cannot
differentiate them according to the individuals in which they inhere
because we have just rejected the existence of individuals at the
level of substances. We cannot say that this spatial-extension-trope
is different from that because they turn up in different individuals,
since the different individuals are just collections of tropes. Of
course we could try to tell apart the various trope-substances by the
collections in which they occur (or, more precisely, by which other
tropes they are related to via a higher-order compresence-trope). The
difficulty for this is that it introduces dependence-relations via the
back door, for every trope will existentially depend on being
connected to just these other tropes via a compresence-trope --
we cannot take a trope and 'move' it to another
collection. As we want to conceive of substances as entities that are
not existentially dependent on one another this approach inevitably
introduces a certain tension into our system. It thus becomes apparent
that once more a conceptual scheme that can be more or less
straightforwardly applied to non-substances breaks down once we
attempt to analyse the supposedly foundational objects of our world in
terms of it. While the analysis of a red apple into an individual and
the property it instantiates is at least on the face of it
unproblematic, the same analysis generates problems when applied to
ultimate existents. (See, however, Siderits 2014, 2016: 113.)


### 3.3 Personal identity



Nagarjuna's criticism of substance does not just apply
to the world of objects, to the phenomena around us, but equally to
the world of subjects, that is our own and other persons' self.
This is very much in harmony with the Buddha's own conception of
a person that rejected a self existing with *svabhava*.
Such a self would have to be conceived of as distinct from both our
body and our psychological states, as essentially unchanging, as a
unifier of our diverse beliefs, desires and sensory impressions, and
as an agent that makes the decisions that shape our lives. The
alternative presented by the Buddha is a view of the self that regards
it as a continuously changing array of five psycho-physical aggregates
(the physical body, sensation, perception, intellect, and
consciousness) without an inner core. Many of the arguments
Nagarjuna presents when rejecting the notion of a
substantially existent subject bear a close resemblance to those
brought forward by the Buddha himself. (See the entry on
 Buddha.) 
 Nevertheless his works also provide
us with some arguments with a distinctly Nagarjunian
slant. In MMK 18:2a the opponent wonders: 'if there was no self,
where would the self's properties come from?' The worry
behind this question is that the undeniable fact that there are
properties of the self--since the Madhyamaka does not want to
deny that seeing, feeling, tasting and so forth takes place --
implies that there must be a bearer of such properties, i.e. a
self. Since properties depend existentially on something that
instantiates them a self must be postulated as the instantiator of all
the mental properties we observe. It appears as if we need a
substratum for the psychological states, desires, beliefs and so
on. However, the body, because of its continuously changing nature,
cannot be regarded as adequate for such substratumhood. Therefore
some kind of self has to be postulated.



But if we take into account the distinction between constitutive and
instantiated properties described above it seems possible to dissolve
this worry. Nagarjuna differentiates between the property we
see as constituting an individual (such as roundness in the case of a
circle, treeness in the case of a tree etc.) and those properties that
the individual is then taken to instantiate (such as redness in the
case of the circle, and greenness in the case of the tree). As became
evident in the discussion of motion where Nagarjuna
introduces this distinction, the difference between constitutive and
instantiated properties is not regarded as bearing any ontological
weight. It is rather a reflection of our epistemic priorities and
practical concerns that we describe an object as a tree which is
green, rather that as a green object which has the property of
treeness. As a consequence there is no fundamental ontological
difference between a substratum (*dravya*) and the qualities
(*gu*n*a*) that inhere in it, contrary to the view
that is e.g. held by the Naiyayikas. (See the entry on
 Analytic Philosophy in Early Modern India
 (Navya-Nyaya).) When we speak of an individual having a property
we nominalize the predicate expressing the property we take to be
constitutive and ascribe the instantiating properties to the
individual thus created. There is, however, no deep ontological reason
why we could not change our view of what the constitutive and what the
instantiating properties are, and thereby describe the very same
situation in terms of different individuals and properties. But if we
accept this picture of ontology it is evident that we are not obliged
to infer the existence of a substratum or underlying individual from
the existence of a quality. Of course the Madhyamika does not
deny that there are a variety of sensory and mental events that happen
in close temporal and causal connection. But our ascription of these
to a single self does not commit us to the existence of such a self at
the ontological level, any more than the ascription of redness to a
circle commits us to the existence of an individual -- the circle
-- and the redness it instantiates. In the same way in which we
select one property, such as circularity, as constitutive and then
group all the other properties around this new-found
'individual', in the same way we select certain properties
of a causal nexus of sensory and mental events, some 'shifting
coalition of psycho-physical elements' and group the remainder
of the properties around this new-found 'self'. To speak
of the self and its properties in terms of substratum and quality is
perfectly acceptable, as long as we do not assume that such talk is
based on a distinction with an ontological grounding.



Another issue Nagarjuna raises (in MMK 9:3) concerns the
epistemic status of the self. A tension arises once we note that in
its role as a unifier of our cognitive life a substantial self
features in all our experiences, as the subject *having* the
experiences, but at the same time, given the distinctness of such a
self from our body and all parts of our mental life it must also be
distinct from all experiences. In order to have epistemic access to
our self it must be able to function as a cognitive object. Since we
assume, however, that it is not only a cognitive subject but also
intrinsically a cognitive object it cannot ever occupy this role
-- at least if we make the plausible assumption that being an
object and being a subject are mutually incompatible properties. Now
given that we do not seem to be able to acquire knowledge of the self
by introspection or by observation of the outside world it appears
that the only cognitive route left open to us is inference. We have to
establish by an argument that the self exists. It might strike us as
slightly curious that what seems to be the most intimate object of our
acquaintance has to be known by a most indirect route. We might also
consider it as somewhat epistemically implausible to assume that
everybody's belief in a self is arrived at by a process of
drawing inferences from a set of clues. One Nyaya argument for
the existence of the self based on the supposed existential dependence
of qualities on a substratum has already been discussed above. The
Madhyamika will be reluctant to accept it since he does not agree
with the Nyaya ontology of individuals and properties it
presupposes. Other arguments would obviously have to be dealt with on
a case-by-case basis. But the Madhyamika will argue here that in
fact no such argument is needed, since it is perfectly possible to
account for our self-awareness, as long as we give up the conception
of a substantial self. If we conceive of the self as a temporally
stretched-out compound of psychophysical events then there is no
fundamental difficulty that the same type of event turns up on the
cognizing subject side on one occasion, and on the cognized object
side on another. Given that there is no unified substratum
constituting the self there is also no necessity for something to be
essentially a subject of experience. As different parts can play
different roles at different times our self-knowledge can be just
explained by a momentary identification with a mental event that
presently functions as a cognizing subject.



Given that Nagarjuna rejects the picture of a substantial
self described above we have to consider which alternative picture we
are presented with instead. The self is obviously seen as depending on
the five constituents, which rules out the assumption that any
independently existent substance could be regarded as a self. The
emerging view of the self is characterized by two main properties.



Firstly it is to be regarded as a sequence of events that stand in
close temporal and causal relations. Physical processes cause sensory
events, which are then framed by concepts, used as the basis of
decisions, which give rise to actions, which in turn set physical
processes in motion which cause new sensory events and so forth. The
self is not seen as a cognitive nucleus which stays constant amidst
the stream of changing sensory impressions and mental deliberations,
but rather as the entire set of such sensory and mental events which
are interconnected in complicated ways.



Not only does the self depend for its existence on the constituents,
but the constituents only acquire their existence as distinct parts of
the stream of mental and physical events by being associated with a
single self, which, regarded as a constitutive property, produces the
basis for postulating the individual in which the various properties
of the self inhere. It is precisely this reason that keeps the
Madhyamika from regarding the constituents as ultimate existents
(*dravya*) and the self as merely imputed
(*prajnapti*). For the Madhyamika not only is there
no substantial self, there is also no substantial basis on which a
non-substantial self could be built.



Secondly, the self is characterized by a mistaken self-awareness. This
means that the self which is essentially a sequence of events does not
regard itself in this way, but considers itself to be a substantial
self, that is, an essentially unchanging unified agent distinct from
its physical and mental properties. To this extent it is deluded about
its real nature. Nagarjuna therefore compares the agent to
an illusion created in a magical performance that in turn brings about
another illusion (MMK 17:31-32). This construction allows him to
reconcile his rejection of a substantial self as an essentially
unchanging unifier of our mental live distinct from both its physical
and mental attributes with the acceptance of the self as an agent who
will experience the results of his actions, an assumption which could
not be relinquished within the Buddhist worldview. This is a very
important point, since the identification of the self with a causally
interlinked set of events might tempt us to throw out all prudential
considerations for our future selves, as well as those for other
selves. Since none of these have any ultimate existence we might think
that all actions connected with them in some way (that is all our
conscious actions) are all equally insubstantial too, so that in the
ultimate analysis it does not make any difference how we act.
Nagarjuna counters this view by distinguishing the view from
the inside of an illusion from the outside view. When we are dreaming
and are not aware we are doing so we understandably prefer to leave a
building by using the stairs, rather than jumping out of the window.
For somebody who is not dreaming, however (and also for our later,
waking selves) it does not make any difference whether we jump or not
since at the ultimate level (from the point of view of the awakened
one) there is no fundamental difference between the two actions. This
does not imply that whilst we are still under the thrall of the
illusion we should leave all prudential and moral considerations
behind. On the contrary, as long as we are under the influence of the
illusion we have to act in accordance with its laws, even if we might
suspect that it is an illusion. Unlike in the case of dreaming, where
the mere wondering whether we are dreaming sometimes allows us to see
through the nature of the dream the mere suspicion that there is no
substantial self is (unfortunately) not yet a realization of the
emptiness of the self.


### 3.4 Knowledge



The Indian philosophical tradition distinguishes a variety of
epistemic instruments (*pramana*) by which epistemic
objects (*prameya*) are accessed. Which epistemic instruments
were accepted and how their function is understood differs amongst
philosophical theories. In his discussion of epistemology
Nagarjuna lists four such instruments: perception
(*pratyaksa*), inference (*anumana*),
recognition of likeness (*upamana*), and testimony
(*agama)*. His primary concern is not a discussion of the
nature and interrelation of these different epistemic instruments, but
the question of how to establish any particular set of such
instruments, whether it is the one just indicated or a different one.
Once we have agreed that the existence of epistemic objects is
established by the epistemic instruments (as for example the existence
of the desk in front of me is established by my perceptual abilities,
in this case primarily non-defective vision) we then have to address
the further question of how to establish the instruments. How do we
know that these instruments are good guides to the objects out there
in the world?



There are three different ways in which we can try to establish
epistemic instruments. First of all we could regard them as
established by mutual coherence. Secondly we could assume that the
epistemic instruments justify themselves. We do not have to go beyond
perception to realize that perception usually delivers an accurate
picture of the world, but perception itself presents a faithful
representation of the world and of its own validity. Finally one could
regard the epistemic instruments and objects as mutually establishing
each other. The instruments establish an object by giving us epistemic
access to it. But we could also argue that the epistemic object in
turn establishes the epistemic instruments. Given that we manage to
interact with the epistemic objects more or less successfully (as
confirmed by the evolutionary success of our species) there must be
something amongst our cognitive means which gives us a relatively
accurate account of the way things are. In this way epistemic success
allows us to establish the means of knowledge via the objects
successfully cognized.



Nagarjuna does not devote a great deal of discussion of to
the first alternative, the establishment of the epistemic instruments
by mutual coherence (for some discussion see Stoltz 2021:
156-157). The reason for this is that this is hardly a position
his realist Naiyayika opponent will want to adopt. There are,
after all, coherent fairy-tales. Let us therefore have a closer look
at the other two alternatives, paying particular attention to whether
there is any way in which the epistemic objects and instruments could
be construed as having their nature intrinsically, that is, as
existing with *svabhava*.


#### 3.4.1 Are the epistemic instruments self-established?



Regarding the epistemic instruments as self-established has the
immediate advantage of avoiding two difficulties. Firstly we get
around the infinite regress of establishing the instruments by other
instruments, which then in turn need yet other instruments to
establish them, and so forth. Unlike other forms of infinite regress
which Nagarjuna accepts (such as an infinitely extended
chain of causes and conditions) this regress is vicious, since the
burden of proof is transferred in its entirety to the preceding stage,
as an epistemic instrument would have to establish all the succeeding
ones. Secondly the self-establishment of the epistemic instruments
allows the opponent to hold on to the assumption that everything
knowable is established by such instruments. It might be attractive to
give up this assumption in order to escape the vicious regress, but
this then makes it necessary to give a special reason explaining why
ordinary objects are by established epistemic instruments, but not the
instruments themselves.



Despite these advantages, Nagarjuna argues, there are some
serious problems with the assumption that the epistemic instruments
are self-established. First of all, if an epistemic instrument, such
as visual perception, was self-established it should be able to exist
independently of the existence of an object of vision. But if we then
assume that it is an essential property of visual perception to see,
visual perception must be able to function as its own object, as
otherwise there might be no other object to be seen. This,
Nagarjuna claims, then leads to a problem already
encountered in his analysis of motion. The mover and the place being
moved over cannot exist simultaneously, since motion takes time;
vision cannot see something that exists simultaneously with it (such
as itself), since vision takes time too (MMK 3:2-3, see also
Garfield 1995: 139-139).



Secondly, observing again that if the epistemic instruments are
self-established they will be established independently of the objects
known, Nagarjuna argues as follows. Assume that we wanted to
chose those amongst all the different means of cognitive access to the
world that deliver accurate knowledge of the nature of the objects
known, that is, that qualify as epistemic instruments. We would select
all those that have a specific internal quality. The possession of
this quality would then guarantee that its possessor delivered
accurate information about the nature of the objects cognized. But how
is the connection between the specific internal quality and the
correct representation of the object justified? After all there are
all sorts of properties our means of cognitive access to the world can
have, so how do we know that a specific one is a guide to accurate
representation?



Suppose we are presented with a set of fancy mechanical devices and
are asked to select the five best tin openers from these. No detailed
study of the internal properties of each will allow us to accomplish
that task. We have to analyse each in relation to a tin and try to
determine the way in which it might open it. Only then would we be
able to conclude which particular properties of the mechanisms are
correlated with good tin-opening abilities. In the same way we can
only regard an internal quality of a way of accessing the world as a
characteristic of an epistemic instrument once we have assessed it in
relation to the objects cognized. Only then can we conclude that this
particular property really leads us to the knowledge of the nature of
the object, rather than doing something else. But in this case the
establishment of the epistemic instruments can no longer be regarded
as self-establishment since it incorporates reference to other objects
(namely the objects known) at an essential place.


#### 3.4.2 Do the epistemic instruments and objects establish each other?



If the argument for the self-establishment of the epistemic
instruments is not successful, the remaining option is to argue that
the instruments and objects mutually establish one another. Assume
that I see an apple on the table. The existence of the apple, the
epistemic object, is established by the epistemic instrument which is
perception. But we could equally argue the other way round: that the
object known establishes the epistemic instrument. This would invite
the immediate objection that we then need prior cognitive access to
the object known, and if we have this we must already have established
the epistemic instrument. We are therefore pointlessly establishing it
twice. But if we somehow gain this access without relying on the
epistemic instruments the whole project of establishing these
instruments seems futile, since it is precisely the justification of
our instruments used in gaining knowledge of the world that we have
set out to scrutinize. We will therefore need a different
argumentative strategy to argue for the mutual establishment of
objects known and epistemic instruments, and in particular for the
establishment of the latter by the former. One way of going about this
(which does not commit us to the viciously circular mutual
establishment criticized by Nagarjuna) is to argue that
because the epistemic object is perceived, there must be something
bringing about such a perception, and this is the epistemic
instrument. In this case the apple establishes the existence of the
epistemic instrument by which it is known. An essential prerequisite
for this latter direction of establishment is of course success.
Because we successfully apprehend an apple our means of apprehension
is regarded as an epistemic instrument. If we were susceptible to
frequent apple-hallucinations that disappeared once we tried to touch
them we would not regard perception as a reliable apple-detector, that
is, as an epistemic instrument. But since we are generally successful
in our cognitive interactions with the world and normally only
perceive the existence of apples that are indeed there the very fact
that we successfully apprehend a world of outside objects serves as an
argument for regarding the successful means of apprehension as
epistemic instruments. An immediate difficulty with this procedure is
that we also need an epistemic instrument for establishing the success
of our cognitive actions, that is to ascertain whether we really are
perceiving the apple or just an apple-hallucination.



Nothing seems to rule out that some epistemic instrument first
deceives us about what we see, and later deceives us about the outcome
of whatever procedure we use to establish whether the first cognition
was successful. But this need not rule out any attempts of mutually
establishing the epistemic instruments and objects if we do not use
epistemically suspect procedures (which we know to have lead to
unsuccessful cognitions in the past) to establish the success of our
cognitive actions. A more worrying question is whether the mutual
establishment of instruments and objects - if successful -
actually delivers the account of epistemic instruments
Nagarjuna's opponent wants to defend. In order to see
this we have to note first that the notion of 'successful
cognitive apprehension' referred to above cannot just be an act
of cognition that leads to a successful action, as many of our
cognitions (and many of the beliefs subsequently acquired) are never
acted upon. We therefore also have to include coherence with other
cognitions or beliefs as a criterion for the success of some epistemic
instruments as well. Our cognition of the apple on the table might
therefore be deemed successful if it either leads to a successful
action (we reach out, grasp the apple, and eat it) or if it coheres
with other epistemic instruments (for example with my memory of buying
a bag of apples and putting them on the table). However, the
difficulty with employing coherence in this way is that we have to
select a certain set of cognitions or beliefs that we hold fixed, so
that we can then evaluate the status of other cognitions relative to
them. One problem now is of course how to assure the accuracy of this
selected set: if they are not accurate themselves coherence with them
has very little argumentative weight.



Nagarjuna's account of epistemology is supposed to
fulfill a purpose both at the object- as well as at the meta-level. At
the object-level epistemic instruments and objects are just another
set of central concepts that have to be investigated as entities
potentially existing with *svabhava*. Nagarjuna
argues that the various ways in which the epistemic instruments and
objects could be established are either not satisfactory or fail to
show that they exist with *svabhava*. At the meta-level
Nagarjuna's theory of epistemology is supposed to
provide the theoretical background of his own account of emptiness. As
the theory of emptiness is something we are supposed to acquire
knowledge of it is essential to get clear about the means by which we
are supposed to do so, and indeed about what our epistemic object
consists of in this case. These two projects are inherently
interconnected. For according to the standard Nyaya theory of
epistemology Nagarjuna encountered, knowledge is acquired by
using a set of procedures (such as perception or inference) the nature
of which it is to produce knowledge and which convey information about
a set of objective, mind-independent set of individuals that are the
bearers of specific qualities. But a theory that thus presupposes the
existence of objects of knowledge with distinct natures which the
means of knowledge could adequately represent could hardly be used as
a basis for knowing emptiness, for it presupposes exactly what the
theory of emptiness denies. A substantial part of
Nagarjuna's epistemological discussion is therefore
dedicated to a criticism of the standard Nyaya theory of
knowledge. Nagarjuna sets out to establish that nothing can
be regarded as intrinsically an epistemic instrument or object. The
two have to be mutually established: the instrument establishes the
object by giving us cognitive access to it, our successful interaction
with the object establishes the instrument as a trustworthy route to
the object. Something will therefore be classified as an epistemic
instrument or object not because this is a reflection of its intrinsic
nature, but because it is regarded as such once a reflective
equilibrium has been reached. We use beliefs about the nature of the
object in order to test our hypotheses concerning the instruments of
acquiring such beliefs, these hypotheses are then in turn used to
assess our view of the nature of the object. Such mutual establishment
of epistemic instruments and epistemic objects then also entails that
neither of them can exist by *svabhava*.


### 3.5 Language and truth



Language is not a topic that is given much explicit discussion in
Nagarjuna's works. This does not mean that such
matters were not important to him, but merely that his extant writings
do not contain an extended connected discussion of the impact of his
theory of emptiness on his view of language.



Nevertheless it is possible to extract some of
Nagarjuna's views on this philosophically highly
interesting issue from remarks found at different places in his
works.



Most importantly it is apparent that the Madhyamaka theory of
emptiness is not compatible with a the idea of a 'ready-made
world', that is of a world that exists independently of human
interests and concerns and already shows a particular kind of
structuring that our structured language could then set out to
reflect. If nothing exists with *svabhava* nothing in the
world could exist from its own side and nothing could bear a structure
that is intrinsic to it, rather than something ascribed to it from the
outside. Moreover, the Madhyamika will reject the classic
correspondence theory of truth, according to which the truth of a
statement is grounded in the identity of structure between a statement
and the bit of the world it refers to. This also entails a rejection
of the associated view of how language works, namely that our
sentences manage to connect up with the world via a set of objectively
existent structural similarities. The main reason for this rejection
is that the Madhyamika cannot find any sufficiently substantial
relation that would allow us to bind together world and word at the
most fundamental level. The most plausible candidate for linking words
and their referents is the causal relation, for example by using it to
construct a causal chain from an 'initial baptism' to our
present use of the term. But as we have seen, Nagarjuna has
argued that the causal relation itself is conceptually constructed. If
causation cannot be regarded as a relation that functions objectively,
independent of the concepts we employ then it can hardly be regarded
as a mind-independent way of grounding the relationship between
language and the world.



An alternative account which the Madhyamika might want to adopt
is one which does not conceive of truth in terms of correspondence
with an exterior reality but rather in terms of assertability
conditions. In this case a statement is regarded as true if conditions
obtain that warrant our asserting the statement. What makes the
statement that water is wet true is not a structural correspondence
between it and a state of affairs involving water, but that we have
something that justifies us in making this statement. What this
justification consists in depends on the further details of our theory
of truth; it might be based on facts about empirical observation,
about coherence with other beliefs, about pragmatic success and so
forth. This view of course implies that there could not be any truths
that are in principle beyond our ability to know them. This is because
we could never have a warrant for asserting such statements, and the
existence of such a warrant is precisely what we consider the truth of
the statements to consist in. Such statements would have to be
regarded as lacking a truth-value. This kind of denial of
verification-transcendent truths in turn agrees very well with
Nagarjuna's contextualist epistemology. For if nothing
is intrinsically an epistemic instrument nothing can be intrinsically
beyond the grasp of such instruments either. As what constitutes an
epistemic instrument is context-dependent, that a certain truth cannot
be accessed by some instrument is context-dependent too. There is no
context-independent concept of knowledge we could use to form the idea
of a truth that lies beyond all epistemic contexts.



According to the Madhyamaka view of truth there can be no such thing
as ultimate truth, a theory describing how things really are,
independent of our interests and conceptual resources employed in
describing it. All one is left with is conventional truth, truth which
consists in agreement with commonly accepted practices and
conventions. These are the truths that are arrived at when viewing the
world through our linguistically formed conceptual framework. But we
should be wary of denigrating these conventions as a distorting device
that incorporates our specific interests and concerns. The very notion
of 'distortion' presupposes that there is a world
untainted by conceptuality out there (even if our minds can never
reach it) that is twisted and bent to fit our cognitive grasp. But the
very notion of such a 'way things really are' is argued by
the Madhyamika to be incoherent. There is no way of investigating
the world apart from our linguistic and conceptual practices, if only
because these practices generate the notion of the 'world'
and of the 'objects' in it in the first place. To speak of
conventional reality as distorted is therefore highly misleading,
unless all we want to say is that our way of investigating the world
is inextricably bound up with the linguistic and conceptual framework
we happen to employ.



There are two worries one might have about the rejection of the notion
of an ultimate truth. First of all one might think that progress in
human inquiry makes it necessary that we question what we now believe
to be truths and perhaps replace them with other beliefs. Even a
cursory acquaintance with the history of science will show that we are
where we are now only through a persistent process of replacing
beliefs we once held to be true, but no longer hold to be true. But it
seems hard to explain what our justification for this is if it is not
trying to bring our beliefs into greater accordance with the way
things are. All we ever seem to be dealing with according to the
Madhyamaka view is a purely immanent notion of truth where the only
kind of truth we have access to is a reflection of conventional human
practices and agreements. In response to this the Madhyamika
might want to make the point that it is at least sometimes
advantageous to treat truths *as if* they had a more than
conventional grounding, that is *as if* they were not just the
product of agreement with commonly accepted practices and conventions.
This is precisely because such practices need improvement from time to
time, and since a spirit of inquiry is facilitated better by the idea
that there is a mind-independent truth waiting to be discovered. The
Madhyamika could thus argue that for pragmatic reasons we should
conceive of truths as reflections of an objective, external reality
even though we do not think that there are any such truths in fact. We
might object at this point that if the notion of the existence of at
least some verification-transcendent truths is pragmatically useful,
whoever believes in truth as warranted assertability then has to
believe that some truths are not conventional, since asserting this is
now supported by a warrant. But this will not just turn the
anti-realist into a realist against his will, since his embracing of
non-conventional truths is dictated by purely practical concerns: we
are considerably better off if we build our inquiries on the
convenient fiction of non-conventional truths. But they remain just
that, namely convenient fictions; the anti-realist does not think, as
the realist does, that the existence of such truths is in any way
grounded by the way the world is independent of our interests and
concerns.



Another worry with the Madhyamika's rejection of an
ultimate truth is that emptiness cannot then be regarded as the
ultimate truth either. But surely, one will argue, for the
Madhyamika emptiness is the end-product of the correct analysis
of phenomena, and thereby indicative of the way things really are.
However, emptiness is not to be understood as a description of reality
as it is independent of human conceptual conventions, as its main
purpose it to combat the wrong ascription of *svabhava* to
things. The absence of *svabhava* or emptiness is nothing
phenomena have within themselves, but only something which is
projected onto them from the outside in an attempt to rectify a
mistaken cognition. Therefore the theory of emptiness is not to be
regarded as an ultimately true theory either. Such a theory would
describe things as they are independent of human interests and
concerns. But the theory of emptiness is intricately bound up with
such interests and concerns: if there were no human minds who
mistakenly read the existence of *svabhava* into phenomena
which lack it there would be no point in having a theory to correct
this. It is only due to our erroneous view of things that the theory
of emptiness is required as a corrective.


## 4. Conclusion



The preceding discussion has discussed some of the main topics
Nagarjuna addresses in order to refute their existence by
*svabhava*: causation, change, the self, knowledge,
language, and truth. This is not a comprehensive exposition of the
Madhyamaka view, however, not just because there are aspects of
Nagarjuna's thought we have not mentioned here (such
has his discussion of time and his account of ethics), but because
Madhyamaka thought regards itself as a philosophical antidote against
superimpositions of *svabhava* wherever they arise. It is
therefore by necessity more comprehensive than the arguments found in
Nagarjuna's works. They provide examples of
argumentative procedures and discussions of putative examples of
*svabhava* prominent amongst Nagarjuna's
opponents. But the Madhyamaka project consists not just in the
explanation and defense of these arguments (even though most of the
positions Nagarjuna argues against are of more than
historical importance) but has to be continued in the debate with the
defenders of *svabhava* in the contemporary philosophical
discussion. It is apparent that Madhyamaka philosophy is opposed to
the brand of realism currently found in much of contemporary analytic
philosophy (Michael Devitt (1997: 41) characterizes this succinctly as
the claim that 'most current common-sense and scientific
physical existence statements are objectively and mind-independently
(deflationary) true'). Things that exist in a mind-independent
manner exist with *svabhava*, even though they might be
dependent in all other kinds of ways. (Even if everything out there
depended on every other thing, as long as the entire network of
dependence-relations was mind-independent it would exist with
*svabhava*). Of course the Madhyamika's talk of
"mind-dependence" does not refer to dependence on any
individual mind, as a solipsist would assume, but to collective
dependence on all the minds there are. This view raises a variety of
interesting questions that Madhyamaka philosophy has to address.



First of all there is the question of how to make sense of objects
like Mt Everest depending on all our minds collectively. It is clear
how we could say something like this about things existing merely by
the force of convention, such as some objects traded on the stock
market. But how could something like a mountain be merely
conventionally existent?



Secondly, given the Madhyamaka rejection of a correspondence-theoretic
account of truth, how can it come up with a theory of meaning and
truth that is not committed to some sort of structural isomorphism
between word and world but still gives us a robust account of what
distinguishes true from false sentences?



Thirdly, if it is not facts out there that settle what is true how can
the Madhyamika avoid the unacceptable relativistic conclusion
that we cannot criticize epistemic or ethical practices which differ
from ours?



Fourthly, how can we make sense of an ontology without foundations in
which there are no substantially existent objects on which everything
else depends? (For an interesting formal model of such an ontology see
Priest 2009, 2014. This question has obvious systematics connections
with the current discussion of
 grounding.)



Many aspects of these questions have been addressed in vast body of
commentarial literature that was written in the nearly two millennia
since Nagarjuna composed his key philosophical works. Other
still remain to be addressed. (For some development of contemporary
Madhyamaka ideas in relation to contemporary Western philosophy see
Garfield 2015, Westerhoff 2020.) One of these is the question to which
extent Madhyamaka thought is essentially linked to Buddhism. This is a
question that has attracted more interest recently especially from
researchers that study Madhyamaka primarily as a philosophical, rather
than as a religious tradition. (For some interesting reflections on
matter this see McGuire 2017). If we consider the lively status of
Madhyamaka studies today it seems evident that the questions
Nagarjuna asked and the system of philosophy he founded in
the second century remain very much alive in the twenty-first.