Category:Philosophy East and West

It is a widely held view, among modern scholars of Mahāyāna as well as within certain of the Mahāyāna traditions themselves, that Prāsaṅgika-Mādhyamika of the sort one finds in such works as Nāgārjuna's Mūlamadhya-makāirika and Vigrahavyāvartanī'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C722-QINU`"'is the definitive rendition of the Greater Vehicle's ultimate purport. T. R. V. Murti, in his classic study, has called Mādhyamika the "Central Philosophy of Buddhism."'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C723-QINU`"' Kenneth Inada has called Nāgārjuna "the giant among giants" of all Buddhist thinkers.'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C724-QINU`"'Bimal K. Matilal has recently argued that "there is a sense in which the Mādhyamika position may be considered logically unassailable," thereby raising it to a status of universal rather than just Buddhist preeminence.'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C725-QINU`"' Such judgments abound in the literature of Buddhist scholarship. Nor is it surprising that they should, for they only echo the centuries-old conviction of many eminent Buddhist that Nāgājuna's thought is the most perfect expression of the Buddha's own middle path. The pride of place accorded to it by Tsoṅ kha pa and his dGe lugs pa school is only one of the relatively more recent traditional examples of this tendency.

      There is no doubt excellent reason for such acclaim as this. The clarity, force, and elegance of Nāgārjuna's arguments are undeniable. They can easily overwhelm, and often have. However, the lavish traditional and modern appreciations of Nāgārjuna's thought have not been without untoward consequences for our understanding of other varieties of Mahāyāna. The Mahāyāna is a far more various thing than a reading of the Kārikas, or even of their antecedent Prajñāpāramitā scriptures, would indicate; and the Mādhyamika position has hardly gone unchallenged in Buddhist intellectual history. Indeed, much of the subsequent history of Mahāyāna thought may be read as a cumulative qualification of the Śūnyavāda that one finds in the Perfection of Insight Literature and in Nāgārjuna. Such at least was the case with the Yogācāra and Tathāgatagarbha traditions; and when Buddhism found its way to China, Chinese Buddhist thinkers often expressed a clear preference for the later qualifications or modulations of Mādhyamika rather than for the severity of an unadulterated Nāgārjunism. It may well be that our enthusiasm for Nāgārjuna along with the comparative complexity and inaccessibility of other traditions have predisposed us to give less attention than deserved to the alternative forms of Mahāyāna.'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C726-QINU`"' Should this be so, the remarks that follow may be taken as an effort at compensation.
      The criticisms, explicit or implicit, that have been leveled against classical Śūnyavāda are many and diverse. One might undertake to examine the question of whether Mādhyamika is normative for the whole of Mahāyāna by investigating, for example, the claim of the Madhyāntavibhāga that an understanding of emptiness is crude and incomplete unless tempered by an understanding of the reality and potency of constructive imagination. For the Yogācāra authors of this text, emptiness is always and ever coincident with the imagination of the unreal (abhūtaparikalpa; hsü-wang fen-pieh) and it is only the coefficiency of the two principles that can wholly account for the way things really are.'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C727-QINU`"' It is in recognition of this—the essential duplexity of reality—that the Madhyāntavibhāga may say, as one would not expect Nāgārjuna to say:

              na śūnyaṁ napi caśūnyam tasmat sarvvam vidhīyate
              satvad asatvāt satvāc ca madhyama pratipac ca sā

              ku shuo i-ch'ieh fa    fei k'ung fei pu-k'ung
              yu wu chi yu ku    shih ming chung-tao i

              Therefore it is said that all dharmas
              Are neither empty nor nonempty,
              Because they exist, do not exist, and yet again exist.
              This is the meaning of the "middle-path."'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C728-QINU`"'

      One might choose also to consider the theory of the "three revolutions of the wheel of the law" found in the Saṁdhinirmocanasūtra:

      Formerly, in the second period and for the sake only of those aspiring to practice of the Mahayana-reckoning on the fact that all dharmas lack own-being, neither arise nor perish, and are originally calm and essentially of nirvāṇa—the Lord turned the Wheel of the Law which is characterized by a hidden intent (i yin-mi hsiang). [But] this too (i.e., like the first turning) had [other teachings] superior to it to which it deferred. It was of a sense still to be interpreted (yu wei liao-id; neyartha), and [thus] the subject of much dispute.
      In the present third period and for the sake of aspirants to all vehicles—reckoning [again] on the fact that all dharmas lack own-being, neither arise nor perish, are originally calm and essentially of nirvāṇa, and have the lack of own-being as their nature-the Lord has turned the Wheel of the Law which is characterized [this time] by a manifest meaning (i hsien-liao hsiang). This is the most rare and precious [of teachings]. There is nothing superior to this Turning of the Wheel of Law by the Lord and nothing to which it defers. It is of truly explicit meaning (chen liao-i; nīthārtha) and not the subject of disputes.'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C729-QINU`"'

      The third revolution of the dharmacakra here described is, of course, the annunciation of what was to become Yogācāra Buddhism. The second corresponds to the Śunyavāda of the Prajñāpāramitā canon and, proleptically, to its Mādhyamika systematization. The implication of this passage is that although both dispensations of the law teach emptiness (here called "lack of own-being," "nonarising," etc.), the Prajñāpāramitā and Mādhyamika versions of the doctrine are inchoate, eliptical, imprecise and a source of controversy, whereas the Yogācāra version is definitive, explicit, and not liable to conflicting interpretations.
      A third approach might be to follow the masterful lead of Ruegg,'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C72A-QINU`"' Takasaki,'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C72B-QINU`"' and Wayman'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C72C-QINU`"' in considering the claims of the Tathāgatagarbha tradition to superiority over classical Śunyavāda. The Tathāgatagarbha, after all, is a tradition which argues forcefully that the reality of all things is as much "nonempty" (aśūnya; pu-k'ung) as it is "empty" (śūnya; k'ung)'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C72D-QINU`"' and which employs such un-Mādhyamika terminology in its locutions about reality as "permanence" (nītya; chang), "purity" (śubha; ching), and even "self" (ātman; wo).'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C72E-QINU`"'
      A fourth option, and the one we take here, is to look at the differences among Mādhyamika and the other varieties of Mahāyāna through the eyes of those Chinese Buddhist who, in devising their own systems of thought, were given the opportunity to compare and choose. I refer here to the numerous sixth-and-seventh-century Chinese thinkers who formulated "division of the doctrine" (p'an-chiao) and similar schemes in the course of fashioning new and uniquely sinic schools of Buddhism. Almost without exception these thinkers chose to subordinate Śūnyavāda of the sort one finds in the Perfection of Insight literature and the Kārikās to other kinds of Mahāyāna, often to doctrines and texts of Tathāgatagarbha provenance or association. The Hua-yen p'an-chiao system, for example, relegated Śūnyavāda to the category of "incipient" or "elementary" (shih) Mahāyāna but held the Tathāgatagarbha tradition to be representative of an "advanced" or "final" (chung) Mahāyāna, both of which fell short of the perfection of its own "rounded" or "comprehensive" (yüan) teaching.'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C72F-QINU`"'
      A theme that unites all of these challenges to Mādhyamika primacy—the Yoācāra, the Tathāgatagarbha, and the Chinese—is a profound dissatisfaction with the seemingly relentless apophasis of Nāgārjuna and, to a lesser extent, of his sources. All are able to acknowledge Nāgārjuna's caution—that uncritical use of the constructive language of philosophical views is a species of intellectual bondage—but they acknowledge it only as a caution, a corrective to false views. They insist, however, that the way of denial and negation, the unremitting distrust of positive language, is necessary but not sufficient unto enlightenment. It allows one to fend off error but does not actively advance one toward the truth and may even impede the practical religious life by generating more subtle forms of error and by inhibiting compassion. Therefore, the various alternatives to Mādhyamika that we have mentioned took it upon themselves to reassert the salvific value of kataphasis, the spiritual utility of positive and affirmative language. They chose, in short, eloquence over silence.

      In what follows we offer for consideration one example of the rejection of an exclusive apophasis in favor of a disciplined kataphasis. We will examine the argument of a brief but important text entitled Discernments of the Dharma-Element of the Avataṁsaka (Hua-yen fa-chieh kuan-men)'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C730-QINU`"' attributed to Tu-shunq (557-640),'"`UNIQ--ref-0004C731-QINU`"' the reputed "first patriarch" of China's Hua-yen (Avataṁsaka) school of Buddhism. This very influential text has been put to many uses in the history of East Asian Buddhism, both within and without the Hua-yen tradition. It is, of course, not simply a text "about Buddhist theories of language." But without denying the broader range of its meanings we do suggest that it does serve our particular purpose well; it offers a significant vision of the place of language in the religious life. (Gimello, "Apophatic and Kataphatic Discourse," 117–20)

No abstract given. Here are the first relevant paragraphs:

Buddhism has a profound and thoroughly developed set of teachings on human being. One might well argue that the question of human being is the question par excellence with which the Buddhist tradition as a whole struggles. According to the traditional account, for example, the point of departure for the Buddha's own search, discoveries, and teachings was the dilemma of the human condition. Moreover, vast numbers of Buddhist texts speak out of or address human experience as such, consciously focusing upon it as the source of both question and answer. Nonetheless, many questions a modern Westerner asks as a matter of course about human being are not directly addressed in the Buddhist texts. There are of course important reasons for this. Our concept of and assumptions about human individuality are profoundly different from Buddhist views of the same. Our two worlds of discourse about the value and meaning of finite bodily existence, the course of history, the meaning of suffering, and the nature of possible human greatness are set up on entirely different foundations. Thus, for a contemporary Westerner to ask the question "What is a person? What is a human being?" of a Buddhist text is to set oneself up to receive an answer that does not satisfy the intent of the question. Yet, while Buddhist views and assumptions differ so markedly from our own, Buddhist texts reveal in their own way a preoccupation with the human condition as intent as that of our own hyperindividualistic, anthropocentric culture.
      With such a shared fixation, it is inevitable that persons on both sides of the cultural boundaries will attempt to gain light from the other side on this subject, despite the incommensurability of each other's questions and answers. The present essay is one such attempt: not an East-West comparison, but an effort to address a Buddhist text from the perspective of cross-cultural philosophy (still, despite the name, a thoroughly Western enterprise) . Herein I will engage in dialogue the Buddha Nature Treatise (Chinese: Fo Hsing Lun^a; hereafter, BNT), a text representative of the Buddha nature tradition that contains an extensive discussion of the concept of Buddha nature, a crucial component, if not the most crucial component, of the East Asian Buddhist concept of human being. I will attempt to wrest from the text answers to two categories of questions-it s view of the ontological nature of human being and its view of the existential status of human beings. In the course of the discussion I will ask such questions as: What roles do individuality and freedom play in the view of human being portrayed in this text? What value, if any, does an individual human personality possess? Is there anything of value in human history? Clearly, the text itself does not speak in these terms; these are the questions of a twentieth-century, philosophically inclined American. In order to bridge the cultural gap, I will first give a summary account of the text's concept of Buddha nature in its own terms and in its own format. Then, acknowledging that the text itself neither speaks this language nor shares my concerns, I will put my questions to the text and attempt to extract from the text its implications for the subject of my concern. In other words, I cannot claim that the author of the BNT does make the statements I will give as responses to my questions about human being, but I do claim that these views are implicit in and follow from the statements he does make about Buddha nature. Granting that human freedom requires us to expect the unexpected, nonetheless, I believe that if the author of the BNT were here today and could engage in dialogue with me, as long as my interlocutor remained consistent, something close to the views I will articulate in the course of this essay would emerge. (King, "Buddha Nature and the Concept of Person," 151–52)

In "The Way of the Dialetheist: Contradictions in Buddhism," Yasuo Deguchi, Jay Garfield, and Graham Priest (hereafter DGP) claimed that in certain parts of the Buddhist tradition contradictions are to be accepted as literally true. I shall confine my remarks to the case of Indian Madhyamaka, more specifically the Madhyamaka of the Mūlamadhyamakakārikā of Nāgārjuna (MMK) and its four extant Indian commentaries. About East Asian Buddhism I am not qualified to speak. The DGB thesis might also be thought to apply to Indian Yogācāra and Tathāgatagarbha thought, but those cases would require separate treatment. What I shall claim is that the Madhyamaka of Nāgārjuna and his commentators is best interpreted as rejecting the claim that a contradiction might be true. More recently DGP seem to have conceded that the interpretation of Madhyamaka that I favor is "orthodox" while their own is "heretical." So apparently we do not disagree as to which interpretation was more commonly accepted in the tradition. There remains a disagreement as to which is the more philosophically defensible. In defending the view I favor I shall be engaging in a considerable amount of textual exegesis, for which I feel I should apologize in advance. What I seek to show is not only that no Madhyamika accepted the dialetheist view that contradictory statements can be true, but also that their position makes good philosophical sense when understood within the confines of classical logic. My working assumption (which I believe I share with DGP) is that the Madhyamikas under discussion were astute philosophers who were well aware of the further implications of the methods they used. Given this assumption, textual exegesis becomes an important component in the investigation of the question at issue between us.

Siderits argues that Nāgārjuna is not committed to the paradoxical claim that emptiness is the lack of intrinsic nature and that it is the intrinsic nature of all things, on the ground that the apparently paradoxical claims Nāgārjuna makes are simply admonitions to recuse oneself from the project of ontology. We argue that to recuse oneself from that project is to do ontology and so is no route out of paradox. We dispute Siderits' reading of several crucial passages, demonstrating that his readings are unattested in the commentarial literature and that they are implausible. Siderits argues on the basis of these readings that Candrakīrti and Nāgārjuna are not committed to paradoxes. We show that more plausible readings that are better attested in the commentarial literature do so commit them. Siderits and we agree that the ultimate nature of reality is to lack any ultimate nature. He thinks that this is consistent; we think that it is paradoxical.

No abstract given. Here are the first relevant paragraphs:

The Chan tradition is renowned as the “meditation” school of East Asia. Indeed, the Chinese term chan 禪 (Jpn: zen) is an abbreviated transliteration of dhyāna, the Sanskrit term arguably closest to the modern English word “meditation.” Scholars typically date the emergence of this tradition to the early Tang dynasty (618–907), although Chan did not reach institutional maturity until the Song period (960–1279). In time, Chinese Chan spread throughout East Asia, giving birth to the various Zen, Sŏn, and Thiê`n lineages of Japan, Korea, and Vietnam, respectively. Today these traditions continue to promote, at least in theory, meditation practices, and these have been the subject of considerable scholarly interest.[1]
      It may then come as a surprise to learn just how little is known about the meditation techniques associated with the “founders” of this tradition—the masters associated with the nascent (or proto-) Chan lineages of the seventh and eighth centuries. It was during this fertile period—which, following scholarly convention, I will call “early Chan”—that the lineage myths, doctrinal innovations, and distinctive rhetorical voice of the Chan, Zen, Sŏn, and Thiê`n schools first emerged. Although hundreds of books and articles have appeared on the textual and doctrinal developments associated with early Chan, relatively little has been written on the distinctive meditation practices, if any, of this movement.
      This essay emerged from an attempt to answer a seemingly straightforward question: what kinds of meditation techniques were promulgated in early Chan circles? The answer, it turned out, involved historical and philosophical forays into the notion of “mindfulness”—a style of meditation practice that has become popular among Buddhists (and non-Buddhists) around the globe. Accordingly, I will digress briefly to consider the roots of the modern mindfulness movement, and will suggest possible sociological parallels between the rise of the Buddhist mindfulness movement in the twentieth century and the emergence of Chan in the medieval period. (Sharf, "Mindfulness and Mindlessness in Early Chan," 933)

Notes

1. The literature is vast; on modern Japanese Zen and Korean Sŏn meditation practice in English see, for example, Buswell 1992, Hori 2000, and Hori 2003. On the history of these practices see Bielefeldt 1988, Buswell 1987, Collcutt 1981, Foulk 1993, and Schlütter 2008.

Buddhist traditions understand emptiness in various ways, and two streams of interpretation, “self-emptiness” (rang stong) and “other-emptiness” (gzhan stong), have emerged in Tibet that help bring into focus the extent to which interpretations diverge.1 In contrast to self-emptiness, other-emptiness does not refer to a phenomenon’s lack of its own essence;it refers to the ultimate reality’s lack of all that it is not. Rather than claiming the universality of self-emptiness (emptiness as lack of own essence), proponents of other-emptiness assert another way to understand emptiness with regard to the ultimate (emptiness as ultimate ground). These two interpretations of emptiness—as ground and as groundless abyss—reveal a rift at the foundation of Buddhist metaphysics.

      This essay probes the discourses of other-emptiness in the Jonang (jo nang) and Nyingma (rnying ma) traditions. After briefly introducing other-emptiness in the Jonang tradition, the locus classicus for other-emptiness in Tibet, I will contrast the way Mipam (‘ju mi pham rgya mtsho) (1846–1912) positions the discourse of other-emptiness in his interpretative system. I will then demonstrate how Mipam’s portrayal of other-emptiness highlights the way he uses a perspectival means to incorporate a diversity of seemingly contradictory claims that he uses to support his view of ultimate reality as indeterminate. I will argue that an implication of his view is a

non-representational account of language about the ultimate. (Duckworth, introduction, 920)

In this essay I aim to clarify the meaning of other-emptiness in the Jonang (jo nang) tradition of Buddhism of Tibet. It focuses on the writings of Dölpopa (dol po pa shes rab rgyal mtshan) (1292–1361), the renowned forefather of this tradition. Dölpopa famously differentiated two types of emptiness, or two ways of being empty—self-emptiness (rang stong) and other-emptiness (gzhan stong)—and proclaimed the superiority of the latter. (Duckworth, introduction, 485)

The universality of Buddha-nature is a doctrine accepted by all Chinese schools of Buddhism. The Wei-shih (Fa-hsiang, Vijñaptimātratā) school of Hsüan-tsang, for reviving the notion that the icchantika is agotra, devoid of this seed of enlightenment, had been summarily dismissed as "Hīnayānist" for that reason. The idea of "the enlightenability of the icchantika" is associated with the later-named "Nirvāṇa School," a group of scholars in the Southern Dynasties (420–589) that chose to specialize on the Nirvāṇa Sūtra, the Mahāyāna scripture narrating the last day and teaching of Śākyamuni on earth. The person credited with discovering this doctrine, before even the full sūtra was available to vindicate his stand, is Chu Tao-sheng (375?–434), perhaps better known for his stand on "sudden enlightenment." The school as such flourished best in the Liang dynasty (502–557); but because it was then aligned with scholarship focusing on the Ch'eng-shih-lun (Satyasiddhi?) by Harivarman, it came under criticism when the latter was denounced as Hīnayānist in the Sui dynasty. It is usually said that the T'ien-t'ai school, based on the Lotus Sūtra, superseded the Nirvāṇa school by incorporating many of its ideas, while the Ch'eng-shih school suffered irredeemably under the attack of Chi-tsang of the San-lun (Three Treatise or Mādhyamika) school at the same time. Henceforth, the Nirvāṇa school faded away while its old association with the Ch'eng-shih tradition was judged an unnecessary mistake.'"`UNIQ--ref-000030E9-QINU`"' This article will introduce three moments from the history of this Nirvana school, showing the main trends of development and, somewhat contrary to traditional opinion, justifying the necessity for the detour into Harivarman's scholarship. Emphasis will also be put on the interaction between Buddhist reflections and the native traditions. (Lai, "Sinitic Speculations," 135)

In The Buddha Within, Dr. S. K. Hookham reworks her dissertation (Oxford, 1986) outlining the Shentong'"`UNIQ--ref-00002B65-QINU`"' tradition in Tibet and its view of ultimate reality. "Shentong" (gzhan stong, other-empty) is a term used in Tibet to refer to a view of ultimate reality as a wisdom consciousness empty or free of the illusory phenomena of conditioned existence. Such a view owes heavily to the description of ultimate reality in the Tathāgatagarbha Sūtras and in the tantras. One of the earliest proponents of this view was the Jo-nang-pa scholar, Dolpopa Sherab Gyaltsen (dol-po-pa shes-rab rgyal-mtshan, 1292-1361), whose massive study titled The Mountain Dharma: An Ocean of Definitive Meaning (ri chos nges don rgya mtsho) outlined this doctrine, extensively citing from sūtra and tantra in support of his position. The Shentong position advanced by Dolpopa and later by such figures as the seventh Karmapa (1454-1506), the Sakya scholar, Sakya Chogden (gser-mdog paṇ-chen Śākya mchog-ldan, 1428-1507), and most recently by one of the founders of the Rimay (ris med, nonsectarian) movement of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,'"`UNIQ--ref-00002B66-QINU`"' Jamgon Kontrol Lodro Thayay ('jam-mgon kong-sprul blo-gros mtha'-yas, 1813-1899), was the object of sustained critique by scholars of other schools-notably those of the Geluk-pa tradition-who advanced what is called a "rangtong" (rang stong, self-empty) view of ultimate reality. These scholars held the ultimate truth to be an existent object of knowledge cognized by a wisdom consciousness. Such an object of a wisdom consciousness is held to be a nonaffirming negative—the absence of the inherent existence of any given phenomena, most importantly the self. Shentong advocates argue that this view of ultimate reality fails to account adequately for the qualities associated with a Buddha's wisdom, although it does account for the nature of illusory phenomena. (Need, "Review of The Buddha Within," 585)

Although Ch'an Buddhism has a long history, the name of the Ch'an School (ch'an-men^a or ch'an-rsung^b)'"`UNIQ--ref-000BCAE3-QINU`"' was a relatively late development. It was Tsung-mi^c (780-841),'"`UNIQ--ref-000BCAE4-QINU`"' the great Master of Kuei-fung who, for the first time, adopted the term in the ninth century A.D. It is interesting to note that it was the same monk-scholar who used the School of Mind (hsin-tsung^d)'"`UNIQ--ref-000BCAE5-QINU`"' as a synonym of the Ch'an school. Tsung-mi was a scholar of buddhist thought who had personal experience in the broad-ranging knowledge of Ch'an traditions. He collected relevant materials and wrote extensively in an effort to analyze the doctrine and practices of the tradition. His identification of the Mind with the Ch'an indicates that, in his opinion, the Mind was the central focus of the school. Although Tsung-mi contributed a good deal to the understanding of Ch'an Buddhism, his contributions remained almost unknown for a thousand years; it is only during the last two decades that scholars have gradually come to recognize his contribution. with considerable astonishment and admiration. This article is an attempt to describe, analyze and assess Tsung-mi's thesis that the doctrine of Mind is the central focus of Ch'an Buddhism and that the Mind itself is the absolute. (Jan, "The Mind and the Buddha-Nature," 467)

The idea of Buddha-nature was first made popular in China in the early fifth century with the translation of the Mahāyāna Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra (hereafter cited as MNS),'"`UNIQ--ref-00000018-QINU`"' and since then, it has remained one of the central themes of Chinese Buddhist thought. Already in the fifth and early sixth centuries, a wide variety of theories on the Buddha-nature had begun to appear, but extant information about them remains scanty and scattered.'"`UNIQ--ref-00000019-QINU`"' It is in the writings of Ching-ying Hui-yüan (523–592),'"`UNIQ--ref-0000001A-QINU`"' the Yogācārin, and in Chi-tsang (549–623), the Mādhyamika, that we find the earliest available full-scale treatments of the subject. Hui-yüan and Chi-tsang hold a number of views in common with respect to the question of Buddha -nature:

'"`UNIQ--poem-0000001E-QINU`"'

Nevertheless, given their very different theoretical upbringings and doctrinal affiliations, it is inevitable that they would carry to their explanations of the Buddha-nature concept some of the basic principles and assumptions of their respective philosophical traditions. In examining and comparing the Buddha-nature teachings of Hui-yüan and Chi-tsang our present study attempts to show how the Buddha-nature concept has come to assume divergent significances when read in the context of the two main streams of thought in Mahāyāna Buddhism: Yogācāra and Mādhyamika. (Liu, "The Yogācāra and Mādhyamika Interpretations of the Buddha-nature Concept in Chinese Buddhism," 171)

No abstract given. Here are the first relevant paragraphs:

In the tradition of Buddhism which has been transmitted to China and Japan, we can see two basically different streams of thought in the Yogācāra philosophy. Although this fact is well-known among Japanese scholars, it does not seem to be widely known among American, European, and Indian scholars. In order to understand correctly the Yogācāra philosophy, however, the clear understanding of these two streams of thought, their mutual differences, and their relation to the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu is indispensable
      One of these two streams was introduced into China by Hsuang-tsang. Although the thought of this stream can be known through the works of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu as translated by Hsuang-tsang, it can be known in its most all-inclusive and systematic form in the Ch'eng wei shih lun of Dharmapāla.[1] This stream of thought continued from the time of Hsuang-tsang to the present day. Happily, it did not die out in China and Japan where its study was continued and where present-day scholars are well acquainted with it. There is no unclear point as regards the more important aspects of this stream of thought.
      The other stream of thought, represented by the works of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu as translated by Buddhasānta, Bodhiruci, Paramārtha, Dharmagupta, Prabhākaramitra, and others, was introduced into China before the time of Hsuang-tsang. The translations of these masters, unlike those of the other stream, were not widely studied and the actual nature of its thought is difficult to determine. With the exception of Paramārtha, there are only one or two translated works of each of these masters. And, even in the study of their works, it is not possible to determine the differences from the other stream of Yogācāra thought.
      Paramārtha, however, translated a great many of the important works of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu. And, with the discovery and publication of the Sanskrit texts, eminent scholars of Japan have done comparative studies based on the Sanskrit original and the Chinese and Tibetan translations in order to determine the extent to which the stream of thought introduced into China before the time of Hsuang-tsang differs from that stream which was introduced by Hsuang-tsang. The results of this research clearly show that there is a fundamental difference between the theory introduced by Paramārtha and that of Hsuang-tsang. The importance of this difference lies in the fact that the theories introduced by Paramārtha and Hsuang-tsang are both said to be the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu. If the theories of Paramārtha and Hsuang-tsang are fundamentally different, the problem arises as to which transmission is faithful to the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu; or, if they are both separate traditions, what was the theory of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu? This has been the focus of attention of present-day Japanese scholars doing research in the Yogācāra philosophy. As the studies of the Yogācāra philosophy by Western and Indian scholars have been lacking in knowledge of these two streams of thought, their interpretations of the central problems of the Yogācāra philosophy have been ambiguous and often erroneous and do not show a clear understanding of it. Their understanding of the Yogācāra philosophy is not in accord with the theory of either one of these two streams of thought. And, because the differences between their interpretations and the two streams of thought are not clear, one cannot find a clear-cut understanding of the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu.
       It is my aim in this paper to present the differences of interpretation of these two streams of thought relating to the theories of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu which were transmitted to China and to examine the question of which of the two streams is faithful to the thought of Maitreya, Asaṅga, and Vasubandhu. As this paper cannot possibly deal with the whole of the Yogācāra philosophy, it will deal with only a few of the essential points. (Ueda, preparatory remarks, 155–56)

Read more here . . .

Notes

1. Dharmapāla and others, Ch'eng wei shih lun,^P Taishō-Daizōkyō, Vol. 31, No. 1585. French translation: "Vijñaptimātratāsiddhi," by Dharmapāla, translated from Chinese into French by La Vallée Poussin (Paris, 1928-1929).