conworlding


The Fan’s Guide to Neo-Sindarin, by Fiona Jallings, is now out. Here’s where you can buy it. It’s about Neo-Sindarin.

fiona-cover

This is partly a Yonagu Books production: I edited the book and did the book design. But I enjoyed the book a lot and I think most conlangers would.

Tolkien is the greatest of conlangers, and one of the most frustrating. He has an effortless good taste that few of us can match.

I goth ’wîn drega o gwen sui ’wath drega o glawar!
the enemy our flees from us like shadow flees from sunlight
Our enemy flees from us like a shadow flees from sunlight!

You get the feeling that every word has been carefully hand-crafted and polished for decades, probably because it has. He was a linguist, knew his Indo-European and sound changes inside out, and knew how to make a language seem familiar yet with few outright borrowings. The feel of his languages is so natural that it’s become a cliché. (If you’re planning an orcish language, I advise you not to imitate the Black Speech.)

What he couldn’t do for the life of him was finish a language, or write a grammar. He kept messing with things, and he never properly explained even some of the basics. Quenya is in pretty good shape, but Sindarin is woefully underspecified.

That’s where Neo-Sindarin comes in. It’s an attempt by multiple people to finish the language, at least to the point of usability.  There are glaring holes— entire tenses or lines of paradigms, the copula, the pronominal system, just aren’t complete. It would be a little grotesque to make up words to fill things out, and the Neo-Sindarinists don’t do that. They scour the published texts and the slowly accumulating extra material; they extrapolate carefully from Proto-Elvish or from early drafts of Noldorin.

Because so much material has been published only in the last few years, Fiona’s book is pretty much state of the art. It’s a textbook (with exercises), organized in such a way that it can serve as a reference grammar.  You can learn Neo-Sindarin or just learn how it works. It’s also an annotated introduction to the reconstruction process; you can see exactly what was reconstructed, and by whom, and what that’s based on. And it’s lively, or at least as lively as a language textbook can be.

There are also sections on (e.g.) naming and cosmology that remind us that Tolkien was not only a linguist, but a medievalist. The elves are more different from modern humans than many an sf alien.

For me, the most interesting bit was peeking behind the curtain into Tolkien’s study as he conlangs. As I’ve been studying Sanskrit, it’s fascinating to see glimpses of Indo-European poke out in Elvish, such as umlaut and multiple verb stems.

In Sindarin, Tolkien made extensive— really extensive— use of mutations, as in Celtic (and these are not dissimilar to Sanskrit’s sandhi).  There are half a dozen types of mutation, and they make for patterns like this:

drambor – a fist
i dhrambor – the fist
in dremboer – the fists

The article i, you see, triggers vocalic mutation, while the plural in triggers nasal mutation. Often mutation takes on a syntactic role: e.g. only the presence of mutation distinguishes the structure i ’wend bain “the maiden is beautiful” from i ’wend vain “the beautiful maiden”. (Bain is the un-mutated form.)

Sindarin has particularly complex pluralization rules, yet they go back to a very simple rule: add –i to the end. Only the i triggers two separate sound changes, one affecting potentially every vowel in the word, the other moving the –i into the last syllable (and causing some changes there).  And for some words you need to know the ancient form.

Beginning conlangers often want to make simpler languages, Esperanto-style; but later on we usually get a taste for complexity. But merely being weird or randomly irregular is not interesting. Sindarin is a master class in getting complexity out of some fairly simple ideas.

And also, you know, in finishing your grammar. Tolkien had the reworking bug; he was one of those people who can’t stop fiddling with his creation. But really, people, take a sheet of paper and write out all your pronouns.

The other area where most conlangers could learn from Tolkien is in the lexicon. Creating words, he was in his element. This is the opposite of machine-generating a word list and assigning each an English meaning. His words have a history going back to Proto-Elvish and interesting derivations, and they all sound good.

Anyway, I hope you have a wide collection of natlang grammar and a few conlangs; Fiona’s book is a great addition to that part of the shelf.

I have a couple of side projects besides all of the India.  One is Ticai, the game I started working on a few years ago. Here’s what it looks like today.

ticai-square

You can compare this to the last look from… gulp… three years ago here. What’s changed?  A bunch of things:

  • A better skybox, rather than featureless blue.  Still needs to be redone, but at least I know how now.
  • Even more buildings, including the nice round temple on the left.
  •  The cobblestones are bump-mapped, so they don’t quite look like a flat texture slapped down on a flat surface.
  • Previously the streets were modular; I figured it would be easier for Unity to render them if there was only one copy of each unit.  Then I realized that the entire street grid has fewer polygons than a single human model. So now the whole grid is one model. This cleared up a lot of little alignment problems and makes the streets look better. It also allowed me to do things like put the tower on the right on a little hill.
  • The camera stays closer to Ticai. This makes it harder (though not impossible) to see through walls and such, which helps out a lot in some of the smaller spaces.

Unity has been upgraded to version 5.4, which broke a few things.  Most are fixed, but something has changed about the lighting which I haven’t figured out.  Ticai’s clothes don’t look smooth, nor does the round temple.  Unity used to correct for that, and I don’t know how to fix it yet.

There were some major bits of the city that weren’t done yet.  There is a whole underground that was only mocked up; it’s all finished now. I also added an alchemist’s shop:

ticai-alchemy-shop

I like the various jars and things. There’s even a microscope!   Not shown: the alchemist has a rather pretty globe of Almea.

I’m convinced that one reason games are so often late and buggy is that the developers spend half their time redoing things.  You make something quickish just to get it working (possibly learning how to do it at the same time). Then you learn how to do things better, get dissatisfied with what you did, rip it out and redo it.  For instance, Ticai’s feet:

ticaI-feet-changes

I half-assed her feet the first time… I figured I could suggest her toes using the texture, and it looks bad.  Finally I redid the toes, separating them in the model.  Plus I redid the ankles. Also her eyes: she has eyelids now, and blinks.  Her face still looks kind of weird, though, so I’ll have to work on that.

(The four toes are not a way of saving work: Ticai is Almean, so she really does have just four toes.)

I put the project aside before mostly because I was hung up on the writing side. The game is supposed to be a set of interlocked mysteries, which Ticai solves by running around and talking to people.  I want a really complex conversational engine, where you don’t have four options to choose from, but a hundred or more.  But of course that means a lot of writing, and even more testing, and I haven’t found a way to keep the amount of work under control.

The other project is a new conlang, something at least two or three of you have been waiting for patiently for years.  It’s Hanying, one of the language of the Incatena— in fact, the language of Areopolis, more or less Morgan’s native language.  I said it was “in origin a Chinese-English creole”, and it was… for the first half-century or so of its existence.  But it will be much weirder than that.  E.g., it suffered a series of phonological adaptations to new speakers twice, and it went through both some relexification and decreolization.  By the time it’s done I hope it really looks like something that survived a thousand years of change.

In your blog you mentioned that “the CEO system for running corporations is a dangerous anachronism.” I was wondering what you would replace it with – in your perfect world, what system would you design for building and running a global business and ensuring its continuity from one generation to the next? What other cultural or economic changes would go along with the new system if it were implemented throughout society? (E.g. would there still be brand-name identification of consumer products?)

—Geoffrey

zorg

Not the ideal

Great question; I’m not sure I have a great answer. But that’s because we need a whole lot more experimentation. Anti-monarchists couldn’t necessarily describe parliamentary democracy in 1700, either.

First, let’s review the problem. In that post, I pointed out Trump as the epitome of the terrible CEO. He’s a lazy, incurious person who’s used to unquestioning obedience for his terrible ideas, and takes every reverse personally. But he’s not much of an outlier. I’ve met plenty of much smaller-level CEOs, who have the same arrogance and inability to understand their own business. The good CEOs I’ve met are generally the ones who know when to get out of the way of their own workers— the people who actually know the work and know what needs to get done.

Many people are in love with the idea of the strong leader of uncompromising vision. We’re not so enamored of the Louis XIV or the Napoléon these days, but Americans, at least, still admire the entrepreneur who builds up a company from nothing: Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Henry Ford, J.P. Morgan, John D. Rockefeller.

I don’t necessarily want to touch that.  On the whole, society benefits when these people build something new.  They should obey labor laws and such, but we don’t need to throw out this part of the system. What we should throw out is the notion that their heirs, or some guy with an MBA, deserve the same deference. If you worship wealth and never address inequality, as Piketty demonstrates, what you get very soon is an aristocracy of rentiers, people who never created anything yet sit on all the accumulated wealth, and whose primary incentive is the maintenance of their own comfort.

So, how do we run a company instead? Two basic approaches:

  • Put someone in charge temporarily
  • Put a representative committee in charge

For now, this comes down to your view of human nature. If you think there needs to be a strong leader (even if his power is limited or we can get rid of him), then you pick Option A. If you distrust all single sources of power, you pick Option B.

Perhaps ironically, in theory option B is what we have now, once the founder is dead. Public corporations have a board of directors, and even rules that a good number of these must come from outside the company; and they pick the CEO. In the US, the board represents the stockholders (i.e. the owners), and it is very possible for them to throw out the CEO.

There are two problems with this.

  • One, boards are in practice not very independent-minded. They’re often friends of the executives and only meet for a brief period every few months.  They’re not deeply involved in the business nor inclined to second-guess the CEO.
  • And two, what the stockholders want is basically more money right now.  This may be completely opposed to the interests of employees, customers, the community, and even investors who are thinking beyond the next 12 months.

A minimal reform is to require that some of these other stakeholders get representation. In Germany, up to half of the board represents labor, though stockholders usually get the determining vote. The idea could be expanded by giving other stakeholders representation.

There are many interesting experiments in corporate governance today, such as:

  • Valve, the company behind Half-Life and Portal as well as Steam, is famously run on near-anarchic lines. Employees literally pick which product they want to work on— and if a product doesn’t attract workers it doesn’t get made. (One does wonder if this is why they never seem to get to release 3 with any of their products.)
  • The first company I worked for is now employee-owned.  It works out well for them, and they were able to weather the 2008 recession in part because they didn’t have the huge expense of a CEO’s salary.
  • NFL management is said to be a huge swamp… except for the Green Bay Packers,  owned by a huge mass of individual Wisconsinites. They’re competitive with other teams and the team stays in Wisconsin.
  • The Mondragon Corporation, of Spain, is a remarkable co-operative firm which employs over 75,000 people.
  • We actually have plenty of examples of non-monarchical institutions: churches, universities, co-ops, many arts organizations or activist groups.

We need more experimentation to see what works. The answer to a lot of objections is going to be “Maybe. We don’t know. We need to try things out.”

The obvious worry is that discussion and representation take time, or at worst tie the entity up in knots. Democratic politics is not exactly known for calm, civilized consensus. In response to that—

  • Again, monarchs suck. We put up with the inefficiencies of democracy because one-man rule really is worse. But the inefficiencies are definitely there.
  • People get better at democracy when cultural norms evolve to support it. I’ve been in endless, unfocused meetings— people flounder if they don’t know what they’re doing. That isn’t a condemnation of the system; it just means that the transition is tricky. People who are not used to power do not automatically know how to use it.
  • There are better and worse decision-making techniques. A huge, completely open-ended meeting is one of the worst. People are better at reacting to concrete proposals than they are at coming up with them. If a proposal is rejected, it’s better for a small group to take it offline than for a large meeting to attempt to redesign it. The group needs a way to table arguments, so it is not dominated by a few eristic individuals. And so on. Heuristics will develop to smooth the process considerably.

One big caveat: democracy is not a cure-all. I think we’d be happier if we could vote who runs the company, or at least vote the current bums out. But that’s not the same as saying we’d be happy.

On the other hand, looking at modern representative democracy, we have to remember that it’s optimized for the logistics of 1790. I’m sure we could do better. One big problem, for instance, is the bundling of policies. At the federal level, there’s no way to say that you want (say) more health care and less immigration.  You can only pick between the two major bundles that are offered. Maybe we need to vote on policies more than on leaders.

Your question on brands is just part of a much bigger question: the optimum size of corporations.  I’m sure a bunch of readers are eager to tell me that the problem is not how to fix corporations, but how to get rid of them. But leftists have, to my knowledge, only come up with a couple alternatives, and they’re contradictory:

  • Nationalize them. So the organizations become massive.
  • Have workers run enterprises directly.  So the organizations must be tiny.

In general, the first approach makes the problem worse. (Some public goods should be nationalized; but I do not want a government commissar, or even a People’s Soviet, deciding what books can be published or what crops can be grown.) And the second approach is largely untested, and of questionable utility for a planet of 7.5 billion people.

It might be nice if every firm was only the size of a village— 150 to 200 people.  But there is such a thing as economies of scale. Really big firms can grow corn, build computers or airplanes, and make action movies really efficiently.  A world of small firms is also, very likely, a world of high prices for consumers. There’s also the problem of competing standards. These should never be a monopoly, even a government monopoly.  And yet it’s kind of a nightmare if you have a hundred competing standards rather than two or three. And if you’re eager to break up Google, do you also want to break up Mondragon?  (They’re about the same size.)

Plus, there’s the inconvenient fact that large firms are far easier to regulate, and can be far more progressive.  A corporation with 75,000 employees can have a professional HR department, great worker amenities, and a commitment to diversity. They’d also be far easier to democratize.  Smaller firms are often run by the most conservative, cranky old despots.

Ideally we should be able to choose both options. Restaurants, for example: it’s nice to have a one-chef gem of a restaurant.  It can also be convenient to have a known brand where the type and quality of the food are predictable (and prices are cheaper).  In art, it’s great to have quirky one- or two-person projects; also to have behemoths that require hundreds of people working together.

Anyway, the one thing I’m certain about here is that future economics is going to surprise us. The modern corporation emerged only 150 years ago, with the invention of the telegraph.  (Adam Smith thought corporations were of limited utility.)  As late as the 1960s, the ideal of corporate governance was a class of professional, medium-income managers hired by the owners; the cult of rock-star CEOs paid in the megabillions was a (stupid) innovation of the 1980s. Right now things look kind of dystopian, but that doesn’t mean we’re stuck here.

Time for our last traipse through the Arthaśāstrawhich started here and continued here.

Statecraft

Congratulations, you’ve become king of a small ancient Indian state. Your first question: how to choose ministers? This is an important enough question that Kauṭilya does a literature review: he summarizes the opinion of various authorities before giving his own. You should not pick your classmates or family retainers (they won’t respect you as a king), nor sycophants (they are devoted by not intelligent), nor “new persons” (who are inexperienced). You should choose men of “high family and possessed of wisdom… ministerial appointments shall purely depend on qualifications.” This sounds hard to disagree with, but it’s worth pointing out that most premodern states were aristocratic and not meritocratic. (And this was long before China’s examination system developed.)

Early governments are often pictured with a small staff. E.g. I was just reading in Mary Beard that Pliny the Younger was appointed governor of a fairly large province and had precisely two  officeholders beneath him. Beyond that, he had to use his own servants, co-opt native (non-Roman) authorities, or use the legions. Chinese magistrates might govern a million citizens with no staff paid by the central government. But the Arthaśāstra describes what sounds like a pretty large and thorough bureaucracy.  Here’s the main offices described:

  • Chamberlain (responsible for treasury and storehouses)
  • Collector general (of taxes)
  • Superintendent of accounts
  • … of the treasury
  • … of (manufacturing) metals
  • … of the mint
  • … of gold
  • … of the storehouse
  • … of commerce
  • … of forest produce
  • … of the armoury
  • … of weights and measures
  • … of tolls
  • … of weaving
  • … of agriculture
  • … of liquor
  • … of the slaughterhouse
  • … of prostitutes
  • … of cows
  • … of horses
  • … of elephants
  • … of chariots
  • … of passports

He also mentions the chief priest, the officer in charge of the harem, the magistrate, the king’s council, and governors of cities, forts, boundaries, and villages.

Kauṭilya writes as if the king could regulate and manage everything. There’s no bright line between public and private. It’s clear there was private activity, but the state also carried on a lot of economic activity on its own. The king also wanted his tax share of everything. There is even a rule that the state should supply dice to gamblers.

A warning on secrecy: counsels have been divulged by parrots, mynah birds, and dogs. (Was this warning literal? But then we say “The walls have ears.”)

The vices of a king are hunting, gambling, women, and drinking. Of these, Kauṭilya concludes that drinking and gambling are the worst. Drinking causes loss of money, corpselike appearance, loss of the Vedas, pain, loss of friends, and addiction to music. For Kauṭilya that’s pretty harsh.

Using confederates, princes should be terrified into avoiding all four. This can be done by drugging his liquor, defrauding him at gambling, accosting his hunting party in the guise of bandits, and showing him “impure women”.

A forest for the king may be set up with wild animals whose claws and teeth have been removed. (This is presumably for relaxation; other forests could be set up for hunting.)

Although there is much advice about how to serve the king, the life of a courtier is described as “living in fire.”

Kings should follow their subjects in dress, customs, language, and religion. (Again, Kauṭilya wrote in a period when kings were often foreign and/or non-Hindu, so this may be a complaint against the times.)

There are suggestions on how a minister can seize power. However, Kauṭilya advises against this; rather, a young prince should be set up as a puppet.

Spies

If Kauṭilya has one word for the king, that word is spies. Spies should check on government officials, attempt to corrupt them (so you learn which are corruptible), listen for dissidents, eliminate the seditious. They spread out into neighboring countries to bring information and sow division. Good covers for spies include religious disciple, ascetic, householder, merchant, prostitute, and mendicant woman. Poisoners and assassins are also needed.

If three different spies produce the same story, it can be believed.  If they frequently differ, they are probably making things up and should be dismissed.

Suspicious places to check on: vintners; sellers of cooked rice and meat; gambling houses; houses of heretics. Merchants and physicians are expected to report suspicious clients.

Entrapment is recommended. One neat idea: pretend to have supernatural powers, such as great speed, invisibility, causing sleep, opening locked doors.  See who signs up for lessons. (You can use confederates to pretend to sleep in order to demonstrate your powers.)  Arrest those who then attempt to commit crimes.

A spy can incite the brother of a seditious person to kill him. Then you kill the brother for fratricide.

You can set up traps in a temple, e.g. a wall that falls on your enemy as he enters.

A spy can pretend to be a long-lived ascetic and make friends with an enemy king. The spy claims that he takes a new body every hundred years, and invites the enemy to see the rite. If he shows up, he can be killed.

Spies can pretend to be gods and converse with the king, so the people think the king regularly has divine visitors.

War

Though kings were expected to rule with wisdom, they were also expected to conquer. “Whoever is superior in power shall wage war.”

It’s presumed that all the king’s neighbors are enemies. But by the same token, the king in back of your enemy might be your friend. The rules for dealing with enemies, friends, and neutrals are pretty complex, and frequently cynical. (If you need to double-cross your enemy, he tells you how to do it.)

Fighting to the end is not wise; better to surrender. Typically a surrendered king was allowed to administer his own territory.

If you have to give children as hostages, it’s best to give princesses, because they “cause troubles” for the court that receives them. Unfortunately he doesn’t explain what troubles!

Is it better to attack a strong but wicked king, or a weak but righteous one?  The wicked king, because his own subjects will refuse to support him.

Is it better to have a small army of bold men, or a large army of effete men?  The latter: there is always work for the weaklings, and numbers terrify the enemy. Besides, you can train the effete men to be more spirited.

You could use an “army of traitors” to look weak and invite attack.

A look-alike for the king should supervise the arrangement of troops.

An untrained army can march one yojana a day (5.5 miles)— the best armies could do twice that. (Other sources on ancient warfare suggests 20 miles a day… but at this period north India still had lots of forest, so Kauṭilya probably knows what he’s talking about.)

Ways to cross a river: a line of elephants; planks spread over pillars; bridges and boats; masses of bamboo; baskets covered with skins.

You shouldn’t harass a defeat army, because it will become reckless and dangerous.

Elephants can be used not only to charge the enemy, but to break into forts, to clear the path, to protect your flank, to ford streams, to quench fires, to carry the treasury.  However, elephants are only good when there’s plenty of water: in dry hot country they become obstinate, or catch leprosy.

The four branches of the army are infantry, elephants, horses, and chariots.  However, it’s clear that the number of chariots is small: a few dozen make up the chariot arm.

Three men can oppose a horse; fifteen are needed to oppose a chariot or an elephant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

More on the Arthaśāstra. Today we’ll look at how oppressive Kauṭilya was or wasn’t.

CHANAKYA-4

Kauṭilya brandishes his hair at you

Prudential government

Not infrequently, Kauṭilya advises against going too far. “Whoever imposes severe punishment becomes repulsive to the people; while he who awards mild punishment becomes contemptible.”

When it comes to intrigue and diplomacy, he can be quite cynical and immoral— but we’ll get to that later. In general he advises the king to be benevolent, and warns that a wicked and greedy king makes so many enemies that his own people will not support him if foreign kings move against him.

“Whoever doubles the [king’s] revenue eats into the vitality of the country.” This almost sounds like a typo, but it’s not. You have to picture an over-zealous tax collector who brings in twice the goods that were expected. This could only be done by an increase in oppression, so it is liable to punishment. Elsewhere he explains that over-collecting injures the sources of revenue, “causing immense trouble.”

There are a number of rules designed to encourage development and foreign trade:

  • Merchants who import foreign goods may do so tax-free.
  • “Seeds not easily available” are tax-free.
  • Taxes are remitted on land if there are recent improvements, or new buildings.

In an emergency, such as a famine, the king may levy confiscatory taxes— “causing the rich to vomit their accumulated wealth”— to relieve the poor.

In a mere fiscal emergency, he can also demand a substantial additional tax— but, Kauṭilya warns, this can only be done once.

Prisoners should be freed when a country is conquered, when an heir is named, when a prince is born. Weaker prisoners may be let go on the king’s birthday. Quite frequently, prisoners can be freed if they have done useful work, or if they’re ransomed, or sufficiently whipped.

The use of assassination and other nasty methods is only to be used “against the seditious”.

When a moralist or a judge gives rules, that’s perhaps better evidence that his rules were flouted as that they were obeyed. So the Arthaśāstra shouldn’t be taken as meaning that ancient Indian society was progressive in these ways. On the other hand it does mean that these were living contemporary ideals, and reflected how the educated classes thought kings should behave.

Classes

The four classes (varṇa) of society— brahmins (priests and scholars), kṣatriyas (warriors), vaiśyas (mostly merchants), and śūdras (servants)— are mentioned, as are the caṇḍālas (untouchables) and mlecchas (barbarians) outside the system. There are also references to “heretics”— presumably Buddhists, Jains, and Ājīvikas. There is little hint of the thousands of castes (jāti) of later India.

On the other hand, it’s hard to get the impression that Kauṭilya is really doctrinaire about this. He mentions at one point that the army should be composed of kṣatriyas— but in another chapter he says that a mixed army is fine, and anyway making use of  vaiśyas and śūdras allowed you to have a bigger army, which was better. Curiously, for colonizing new lands, he suggests sending śūdras alone— it is “plentiful and permanent”. Discussing the qualifications for ministers, he asks only that they be of “high family”.

Women

The king in his harem was guarded by female archers.

Women were the weavers; as a corollary, mail armor was made by women.

There are many rules applying to court prostitutes: She was not to leave her jewelry with anyone but her mother. She paid a high fine for cutting off someone’s ear.  She paid a large fine for taking a customer’s fee and not sleeping with him. There was a very heavy fine (500 to 1000 paṇas; compare to the wages listed in the previous post) for raping a prostitute; however, she paid an even larger fee for declining to sleep with someone the king ordered her to.

The chapter on prostitutes casually extends the same rule to entertainers— obviously seen as the same class. The sons of prostitutes are to be raised as actors.

Women are “made for sons”; as a corollary, if they are doing it to get a son, they may sleep with lepers or lunatics.

The age of majority: 12 for women, 16 for men.

On the whole the Indian kingdoms were hard for women— Kauṭilya has a whole section giving various fines for women leaving their houses. On the other hand, he allows easy divorce for both parties— the women only has to return her dowry and any jewels she received. If a woman is abandoned (when her husband leaves the city), she must wait for a year but can then herself go. He also encourages remarriage, which is significant because later Hindu society was pretty persnickety about widows remarrying.

There were punishments specially for adultery with another class— much higher if the man’s class was lower than the woman’s.

Witchcraft deserved death if it was done for reasons of incest. If you attempted to injure another by witchcraft, you could be punished with whatever you tried to do to them. But witchcraft merely to create feelings of love was no offense.

A man having sex with another man could pay 48 to 96 paṇas. (Spellcheck wants me to say pandas.  Did you know that the word panda is Nepalese? But the original reference was to the red panda.)

Bestiality cost you 12 paṇas. And 24 covered intercourse with idols of female goddesses. Assuming that means statues, that doesn’t even sound possible, but I guess the authorities would want to discourage experimentation.

Kauṭilya is very strong against rape, and defines it very clearly and broadly— “sexual intercourse with any woman against her will”. (So much for Orientalists who were hoping for a version of Gor.)

However, a woman could promise sex in order to be rescued from enemies or floods.  (She could also promise a ransom.)

I look forward to comparing these rules to the Laws of Manu.  According to Wendy Doniger, Manu was a moralist and had a very low opinion of women: women were a constant temptation to lust; they should always be dependent on men; a woman who abandons an evil husband will be reborn as a jackal. There’s none of this element in Kauṭilya. Indeed, he never gives any spiritual justification or sanction for his laws.

Slavery

Kauṭilya seems embarrassed by slavery. Āryas are not supposed to be sold as slaves. There are fines for selling someone into slavery— but they start at 12 paṇas for a śūdra, which is misdemeanor level. (He explicitly calls śūdras Ārya, despite some historians’ suggestions that the servant class derived from earlier non-Ārya.)  Barbarians, of course, can be freely sold.

And yet he allows people to sell themselves, especially to “tide over family troubles”.

Slaves are not to be raped, abused, or kept naked.

People could also promise to enslave themselves and their family in order to be rescued from fires, floods, and wild animals. But the text goes on to say that the person only owes what the “experts” agree on.  (These arrangements don’t say much for the humaneness of  rescuers. But to be fair, nobody needed rules for a rescue without conditions.)

Nature

The  Arthaśāstra is aimed at kings, and aims to give them enough information to supervise the work of their ministers. In places, it gives encyclopedic information about agriculture, mining, and so on: what crops are best (rice) and worst (sugarcane— difficult and expensive to grow), where the best elephants are found (Bengal and the east), how to recognize various ores; how to test for fake gold. He even offers up some basic rules on writing— though this mostly comes down to offering definitions. (“The word is of four kinds: nouns, verbs, verb prefixes, and particles.”)

Seeds are manured with “minute fishes” as well as the milk of the spurge plant.

Rainfall could be predicted by observing Jupiter and Venus. (Unfortunately he doesn’t give details. But this gives you something to talk about with your Superintendent of Agriculture.)

The daily rations for an elephant: 1 drona of rice, 1/2 adhaka of oil, 3 prasthas of ghee, 10 palas of salt, 50 palas of meat, 1 adhaka of broth or curd, 10 palas of sugar, 1 adhaka of liquor, 2 bharas  of meadow grass, 2 1/4 bharas of ordinary grass, 2 1/2 of dry grass, and any amount of pulses.

I suppose you want to know what those measures are. Look, don’t buy an elephant if your Sanskrit is that shaky. It looks like a pala is the weight of 64 mung bean seeds. A prastha is 1/4 of an adhaka, which one dictionary translates (probably very loosely) as a gallon. If it helps, 25 palas of firewood will cook 1 prastha of rice.

Next and last post

 

 

 

Continuing to blog the Arthasastra. Or now that I’m on the computer with good font support, Arthaśāstra.  Or अर्थशास्त्र.

Arthashastra-city-plan

(Unless something is in quotes, it’s a paraphrase.)

Today we’ll go over rules for cities, economics, and society. Often Kauṭilya will be describing things as he thinks they ought to be rather than they are; but it’s still a valuable indication of his values and knowledge.

Cities and economics

A city should have three north-south and three east-west boulevards, each four dandas wide (24 ft), with a gate at each entrance. (This is the same as a classical Chinese capital.)

The city should be laid out as in the above diagram. Burial and cremation grounds are located to the east or north, and heretics and caṇḍālas (untouchables) lived beyond them.

There are rules for houses— they should be well built, not too close to another house, and each must have its own dunghill, watercourse, and well. A mat should be placed on the roof to protect from rain, heavy enough not to blow off.

Inns are to be provided with perfumes or garlands of flowers. Also with spies, who will report on signs of wealth.  Innkeepers are responsible to their guests for the value of things stolen.

Fording a river is forbidden without a special pass, lest traitors get away.

Musicians should not provide entertainments that make use of weapons, fire, or poison. (There must be some interesting stories behind that rule.)

Vessels filled with water are to be placed at crossroads, and in front of royal houses. Beyond this, Kauṭilya suggests that fire be prevented by praying to Agni (the god of fire). In general Kauṭilya believes in piety, but he never gives a theological justification or sanction for his rules.

Debts are inheritable, which sounds like a recipe for trouble.

A useful table of wages for government employees, all in paṇas per year: top officials (including the prince and the king’s mother), 48000. Commanders, superintendent of the harem, collector-general, 24000. Ministers, 12000. Chariot driver, army physician, horse trainer, carpenter, 2000. Astrologer, bard, superintendents, 1000. Trained soldiers, writers, accountants, 500. Musicians, 250.  Carpenters, 120. Horse keepers, bodyguards, miscellaneous servants, 60. Spies, 1000 (but the spymaster only gets 250).

Low opinions

As in most ancient societies, trading was very low-prestige— except for long-distance trading, as unusual merchandise was highly valued. Traders, artisans, beggars, clowns, and other “idlers” are closely regulated as otherwise they “oppress the country”. Goldsmiths are considered to be generally fraudulent.

A list of “undesirable persons” includes thieves, gamblers, hunters, singers, and musicians. Very often entertainers (including musicians and dramatists) are discussed along with prostitutes— again, pretty typical for premodern societies.

There’s a warning about trusting in astrology to gain wealth. Kauṭilya points out that wealth begets wealth; the stars do not.

Various laws

Treasure troves go to the king, but the discoverer gets 1/6.  Or 1/12 if he’s a peon.

If a hermit is fined, he can do penance instead, one day for each paṇa of the fine.

Eunuchs, idiots, lepers, lunatics, the blind, and those thrown out of their class do not inherit.

The eldest son receives a smaller inheritance if he is impotent. (One wonders how this was checked.)

There are fines for wandering cattle.  (Presumably this was a lot easier to regulate in ancient times!)

If a priest dies after performing a sacrifice, his heir only gets 1/5 of his share of the fee.

There are fines for selling a leprous animal– or person. This must be claimed within six weeks for animals, or within a year for humans.

You can be fined for verbal abuse, including irony— such as saying that a blind man has “beautiful eyes”.

Defendants in a legal case have 3 to 7 nights to prepare a defense. (However, there’s nothing about lawyers.)

In cases of sudden death, the corpse should be “smeared with oil” and examined. Perhaps this made bruises or changes in shape more visible, because there follows a list of clues for identifying victims of strangling, hanging, drowning, beating, poisoning, etc. (Pro tip: someone with lots of bloodstains and broken limbs may have been beaten.)

As in China, judges could torture defendants for information. On the other hand, they could be punished for unjust fines or punishments, or for sloppy procedure (e.g. “tiring parties with delay”). A Brahmin was not to be tortured, but if convicted, he could be branded on the face. (For theft, the symbol was a dog; for murder, a headless corpse; for rape, “the female part”; for drinking liquor, a vintner’s flag.)

Some suspicious signs that someone may be a thief: excessive stammering; “watching the movements of others”; rubs or scratches or “signs of scaling heights”; freshly broken nails; body smeared with oil and freshly washed. Footprints could be checked against those made near the crime scene, as well as fragments of garlands, sandals, or clothing.

If you are hurt by an elephant that you provoked, you are liable.

A fine can be levied on anyone who becomes an ascetic without providing for his wife and sons.

Next part

I just finished Kautilya’s Arthashastra, which is perhaps the greatest book I know of that I can’t recommend to readers.

CHANAKYA-4

So, first, what is it?  It’s a book on state policy: how to run a country, how to run a spy network, how to regulate commerce, who to appoint as ministers, how to manage allies and enemies, how to conduct war. It was written somewhere from 2200 to 1700 years ago in India, attributed to one Kautilya or Vishnugupta.  It’s often claimed that Kautilya was Chanakra, the wily minister of Chandragupta Maurya, founder of the first Indian empire, but this is unlikely.

It’s often compared to Machiavelli. On the whole Kautilya counsels the king to be virtuous: he must avoid dissipation, reward loyalty, punish criminals, put down bandits, encourage (and not overtax) production. But when he’s cynical, he’s cynical.  He tells you how to recruit spies, how to double-cross your friends, how to poison people, even how a minister can declare himself king.

He’s also, truth to tell, extremely dry, and it’s not clear how much of his advice was followed, which is why I can’t urge anyone to run out and score a copy.  As Patrick Olivelle says about the similar Laws of Manu (which is coming up on the reading list, watch this space), the book dates from a time when northern India was often as not run by low-caste upstarts, by Buddhists (i.e. heretics), or by out-and-out mlecchas (barbarians)– Greeks, Kushans, Sakas. So Kautilya and Manu are both describing things as they think they ought to be.

But the thing is, more than most ancient books, Kautilya gives loads of details on everyday life: crop yields, names of measures, structure of the government, how a fort was laid out, how many yojanas the army could travel in a day, how to use elephants in warfare. (Pro tip: you can use a line of elephants as a makeshift bridge to cross a river!) That is, it’s a treasure trove of information useful in conworlding.

This will take a few posts to work through.  Let’s start with the low-hanging fruit: magical formulas!

(As a warning, this is Kautilya at his worst and most credulous. But it’s entertaining.)

  • A powder made from lizards or stinking insects, a black snake, and panic seed, will cause instantaneous death.
  • For a longer death, try root of vyaghata (Casia fistula), flower of bhallataka (Semecarpus nacardium), and essence of an insect.  (Mad props to the translator, R. Shamasastry, for working out the botanical names.) The dosage for killing a man must be doubled to kill a horse, and quadrupled to kill an elephant.
  • Smoke from the burning of krikalasa (a lizard) and grihagaulika (a house-lizard) causes leprosy.
  • You can turn an animal white using oil prepared from mustard seeds kept for seven nights in the urine of a white goat. Didn’t work? Did you keep it in a bitter gourd for a month and a half?
  • Another way to bring on leprosy: make paste from gunja seeds which have been kept for seven nights in the mouth of a white cobra. (Is the cobra dead?  Doesn’t say. If not, that’s some impressive snake training.  And if it is, I’m not sure I want to retrieve seeds from a snake left out in the Indian sun for a week.)
  • The powder of a firefly mixed with mustard oil emits night at light. One of the few believable recipes!
  • A serum applied by roasting a pregnant camel along with saptaparna (Lechites scholaris) will make a journey of a hundred yojanas fatigue-free. If you have no pregnant camel on hand, dead children roasted in cremation grounds will do. This may be hard to get past the ethics committee at your lab.
  • Fast for three nights, then take the skull of a man who has been killed with a weapon. Grow barley in it, irrigating with goat milk. Make a garland from the sprouts; it will make you invisible.
  • Make a sack from the clothes of a man who died of natural causes, and fill it with the ashes of a dead Brahmin. You can then put the sack on your back and walk about invisible. Or perhaps people will just be too polite to acknowledge your presence.
  • Fast seven nights, get hold of three white hairs from a porcupine, and make a fire with 108 pieces of the khadira tree (Mimosa catechu), along with honey and ghee. Chant a certain mantra while burying one of the hairs at the entrance to a village.  All the animals in the village will fall asleep.

Now, I don’t actually blame Kautilya for repeating this nonsense. It’s evident that he is basing his book on earlier books.  He doesn’t say he tried any of this; he’s obviously copying down similar lists from the library. This is the last chapter of the book, so he’s already given you the standard and much more plausible methods of statecraft. His attitude is obviously “This stuff might come in handy if all else fails, so here it is.”

What’s more intriguing is the mindset of whoever created these recipes. The thing that makes them implausible is the very thing that makes them hard to check: the plethora of arcane ingredients.  If someone claims to have alchemical knowledge, and someone pesters them hard enough for a recipe, this is exactly the sort of thing they’d come up with. Extra points if the ingredients are disgusting (thus the urine and ground-up lizards) or impious (Brahmins’ ashes). The questioner, without modern chemical knowledge, can hardly say “That can’t possibly work”; all he can do is write down the recipe and slink away.

Of course, it’s also possible some of these recipes ‘worked’, in the sense that some of the plants and animal products involved had some effect.  E.g. Casia fistula is used in Ayurvedic medicine as a “purgative”.  Maybe if you used enough of it, you could make someone sick, who knows.  Few of the recipes have convincing details, though, like precise dosages.

Anyway, if this whets your appetite, you can read the whole thing here.  The recipes are found in Chapter XIV.

Part Two, Three, Four

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