Tag Archives: writing

12.13.25
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Regulated Principles – Revisited (Bhagavad-gita 12.12)

By Ajit Krishna Dasa

Link to the original article

This article revisits an earlier analysis of Bhagavad-gītā 12.12 concerning the phrase “regulated principles,” which was later changed to “regulative principles” in post-1977 editions of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s books. This change belongs to the broader pattern of Bhagavad-gītā As It Is changes and Srila Prabhupada book changes introduced after his departure.

The original article can be found here:
https://arsaprayoga.com/2016/03/24/regulated-principles-regulated/

Description of the change

In the original edition of Bhagavad-gītā 12.12, Śrīla Prabhupāda used the phrase “regulated principles.” In later editions, this wording was replaced with “regulative principles,” as part of ongoing BBT editorial changes.

The change was justified by the editor, Jayadvaita Swami, on the grounds that “regulated principles” is “obviously erroneous” and “a term that makes no sense,” whereas “regulative principles” is said to be the “usual and sensible” expression. This justification has frequently been cited in discussions concerning Jayadvaita Swami editing.

The editor further argues that Śrīla Prabhupāda’s earlier instruction not to change the wording of Bhagavad-gītā 12.12 applied only to a specific question about sequence, and should not be extended to prevent later editorial revision of individual words or phrases.

Type of editorial change

Substitution (Replacement)

One expression (“regulated principles”) has been exchanged for another (“regulative principles”).

This substitution is justified through Interpretive Editing, insofar as the editor’s judgment about what “makes sense” and what is “usual” is allowed to override the author’s actual wording.

The change is not based on:
– a typographical error
– a grammatical mistake
– manuscript or draft evidence
– or a request from the author

It is a preference-based replacement.

Category

Posthumous interpretive substitution with systemic normalization

A valid expression used repeatedly by the ācārya was replaced after his departure, not on the basis of error, manuscript evidence, or authorial revision, but through editorial judgment regarding what was considered “sensible” or “correct.”

Although the substitution may appear minor in isolation, it participates in a broader pattern of posthumous normalization, whereby authorial language is silently replaced across the corpus according to later editorial preference. The result is a subtle but real shift in meaning, moving from principles presented as regulated by authority to principles framed as impersonal regulatory norms.

Commentary

Authorial instruction

In a letter dated March 17, 1971, addressed to Jayadvaita Swami, Śrīla Prabhupāda wrote:

“So far changing the wording of verse or purport of 12.12 discussed before, it may remain as it is.”

The statement is clear. Śrīla Prabhupāda refers explicitly to the wording of both the verse and the purport of Bhagavad-gītā 12.12 and instructs that it remain unchanged.

This is the natural and default reading of the sentence. No qualification is stated, and no limitation is expressed.

Jayadvaita Swami suggests that Śrīla Prabhupāda was referring only to a specific editorial issue then under discussion. However, that is a restrictive reinterpretation, not the plain meaning of the text. If only a single, narrowly defined change were being ruled out, there would be no reason to mention both the verse and the purport, nor to speak broadly of “changing the wording.”

Once an author issues a clear instruction to leave the wording of a passage unchanged, the burden of proof lies entirely on anyone who wishes to override that instruction. In this case, no manuscript evidence, authorial clarification, or demonstrable error has been produced that would justify doing so.

The later substitution therefore proceeds not from authorization, but from editorial judgment applied in defiance of an explicit instruction.

Status of the original wording

The editorial justification for replacing “regulated principles” rests on the claim that the phrase is “obviously erroneous” and “a term that makes no sense.” This claim is central to the justification offered in defenses of Srila Prabhupada book changes, since it is presented as grounds for altering the wording of the text.

However, even this line of argument is hypothetical. According to the arsa-prayoga principle, the words chosen by the ācārya are themselves authoritative and are not to be altered on the basis of later judgment, stylistic preference, or perceived improvement. The burden is therefore not merely to allege an error, but to demonstrate one so compelling that it would override both explicit authorial instruction and the governing principle of preserving the ācārya’s language.

No such demonstration has been made.

“Regulated principles” is a grammatically normal adjective–noun construction in English, denoting principles whose application or scope is regulated by authority. The expression is widely attested in formal English usage, particularly in legal, academic, and institutional contexts. It is neither novel nor idiosyncratic.

A phrase that is both grammatically correct and semantically intelligible cannot be classified as an error. At most, it may be considered less common than an alternative. But uncommon usage is not the same as incorrect usage, and editorial preference does not convert a valid expression into a mistake.

Since the original wording is not erroneous, the justification collapses even on its own terms. And even if an error were alleged, it would still fail to meet the standard required to override arsa-prayoga and a clear authorial directive.

The substitution therefore represents not a correction, but an editorial judgment imposed after the fact.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s own usage

The claim that “regulated principles” represents an error is further undermined by Śrīla Prabhupāda’s own consistent usage of the term.

Śrīla Prabhupāda employed both expressions—“regulative principles” and “regulated principles”—throughout his preaching and teaching life. He used them before coming to the West and continued to use them afterward. The expressions appear across multiple genres: books, letters, lectures, and recorded conversations.

While “regulative principles” is more frequent, frequency alone is not evidence of correctness, nor does it establish exclusivity. Authors routinely employ a dominant term alongside contextual variants, especially when addressing different aspects of a subject.

Notably, Śrīla Prabhupāda tends to use “regulated principles” in contexts where emphasis is placed on regulation by authority—that is, principles as administered, defined, or enforced by the spiritual master or governing discipline. In such contexts, the term functions descriptively rather than categorically.

This pattern of usage indicates deliberate expression, not linguistic confusion. It also rules out the suggestion that the phrase was an accidental or unconscious deviation from a supposedly correct form.

Under the arsa-prayoga principle, such usage carries decisive weight. The language employed by the ācārya—especially when repeated across time and context—constitutes authoritative usage and is not subject to retroactive normalization based on later editorial preference.

The nature of the editorial justification

The substitution of “regulated principles” with “regulative principles” is justified not by manuscript evidence, not by authorial revision, and not by demonstrable error, but by an editorial assertion: that the original wording “makes no sense.”

This form of justification is significant. It does not appeal to facts about the text, but to an editor’s judgment about what ought to make sense, what is “usual,” and what is considered acceptable terminology. In doing so, it quietly shifts the basis of authority from the author’s expressed language to the editor’s linguistic intuition.

Such a move reverses the proper order of editorial responsibility. Editors are entrusted with preserving an author’s words, not with revising them according to later standards of clarity, convention, or taste—especially when the author has explicitly intervened and instructed that the wording remain unchanged.

Moreover, the claim that a phrase “makes no sense” is not a neutral observation. It is an evaluative judgment that demands substantiation. In this case, no such substantiation is provided. The phrase in question is grammatically sound, semantically intelligible, and demonstrably used by the author himself and by competent writers outside this tradition.

The justification therefore rests on an unargued assertion presented as self-evident. When such assertions are allowed to function as grounds for textual alteration, editorial judgment replaces authorial intent as the final arbiter of meaning.

Under the arsa-prayoga principle, this is precisely the point at which editing ceases to be custodial and becomes interpretive. The substitution is not driven by necessity, but by preference—expressed in the language of inevitability.

Implications of the “nonsense” claim

The claim that “regulated principles” is a term that “makes no sense” carries implications far beyond Bhagavad-gītā 12.12.

If the expression were genuinely nonsensical or erroneous, consistency would require that it be corrected wherever it appears. In practice, this is precisely what has occurred. In the edited corpus published by the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust International (BBTI), the expression “regulated principles” has been systematically replaced with “regulative principles.” Searches for the former term in BBTI’s website vedabase.io now lead only to the latter.

This means that the issue is no longer confined to a single verse or purport. The original expression has effectively been removed from Śrīla Prabhupāda’s published works, despite the fact that it is grammatically valid, semantically clear, and demonstrably used by him across books, letters, lectures, and conversations.

The implications are therefore substantial. Accepting the claim that the term “makes no sense” entails the conclusion that Śrīla Prabhupāda repeatedly employed nonsensical language throughout his preaching and teaching life, and that this language required silent correction after his departure. This conclusion is untenable.

Once it is acknowledged that the phrase is valid English and contextually meaningful, the premise underlying its systematic removal collapses. What remains is not correction of error, but posthumous normalization imposed according to editorial preference.

This case therefore illustrates how a single unsubstantiated linguistic judgment, once accepted, can justify wide-ranging alteration of an ācārya’s language across an entire corpus.

Philosophical impact

Although the substitution may appear minor, it is not without interpretive consequence.

The phrase “regulated principles” presents the principles in question as having been regulated—that is, as defined, delimited, and enforced by authority. The emphasis falls on regulation as an act: principles are regulated by someone, within a specific disciplic and administrative context. The formulation naturally directs attention toward the role of the spiritual master and the concrete transmission of discipline.

By contrast, “regulative principles” frames the same practices as a class of principles whose function is to regulate behavior in general. The emphasis shifts from regulation by authority to regulation as an abstract characteristic. The principles are presented less as imposed disciplines and more as impersonal normative categories.

Both expressions can coexist within Vaiṣṇava teaching, and both are doctrinally compatible. The issue is not theological contradiction, but framing. Language does not merely convey rules; it frames how authority, obligation, and transmission are understood.

In this case, the substitution subtly moves the reader’s attention away from regulated practice as something received through authority and toward regulated practice as something conceptually defined. The result is a small but real shift from personal administration to impersonal classification.

Under the arsa-prayoga principle, such shifts matter. The language chosen by the ācārya is part of the teaching itself, not a neutral vehicle that may be freely exchanged for a preferred equivalent. When authorial wording is replaced on the grounds of editorial sense-making, even slight changes accumulate and alter how discipline and authority are perceived.

The significance of this case, therefore, does not lie in the gravity of the substitution taken in isolation, but in the precedent it sets: that an editor’s judgment about clarity may override the ācārya’s chosen language, even where that language is valid, intentional, and explicitly protected from alteration.

11.07.25
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Frivolous Change of Chapter-Heading – Revisited

By Ajit Krishna Dasa

Link to original Arsa-Prayoga article:

https://arsaprayoga.com/2013/10/24/enjoying-the-self-within-or-the-duty-of-the-finger-bg-4-38/

Description

This article explores how changing the chapter title “Sankhya-yoga” to “Dhyāna-yoga” in Bhagavad-gita As It Is alters the reader’s perception of Srila Prabhupada’s intention — not because “Dhyāna-yoga” is inherently wrong or historically invalid, but because Prabhupada had a purpose in not using that more common title. The issue, therefore, is not academic accuracy, but fidelity to the ācārya’s personal voice — a core principle of Arsa-Prayoga, especially in the context of posthumous editing by BBTI.

Type of change

Substitution — one term from the Vedic tradition replaced by another, equally authentic, but conveying a different emphasis.

Category

Philosophical change.

Commentary

Not a question of “right” or “wrong” — but of honoring intention

Many commentaries throughout Vaiṣṇava history title Chapter 6 as “Dhyāna-yoga.” This is not a mistake. But Srila Prabhupada chose not to use this more common title. Instead, he used “Sankhya-yoga” consistently in his lectures, manuscripts, and published edition of Bhagavad-gita As It Is.
That choice is not random — it reflects a pedagogical and theological strategy. When BBTI editors later replaced it with “Dhyāna-yoga,” the question is not whether their choice could be justified in a vacuum, but whether it should override Prabhupada’s own.

Srila Prabhupada’s framing is the governing standard

Prabhupada repeatedly emphasized that his edition of the Gītā was not merely another translation, but the definitive presentation of the Bhagavad-gita “as it is.” To alter his chosen structure — even in a title — is to alter the interpretive lens he intentionally set.
This is where Arsa-Prayoga becomes relevant: the principle that once the ācārya has spoken, his presentation stands. Posthumous editing, however well-meaning, must not replace the spiritual intuition of the empowered teacher with the academic preferences of his disciples or followers — whether they be Jayadvaita Swami, Dravida Dasa, or any future editor.

Why “Sankhya-yoga” rather than “Dhyāna-yoga”?

Prabhupada’s use of “Sankhya-yoga” emphasizes that meditation is not an isolated practice, but flows from knowledge — specifically, the discrimination between matter and spirit.
By choosing “Sankhya-yoga,” he was teaching that yogic practice is incomplete without philosophical realization and ultimately Kṛṣṇa consciousness. He may also have been signaling a departure from modern, technique-focused interpretations of yoga that are divorced from devotion — a trend evident even in the 1970s which has only grown stronger since.

The editorial risk: erasing Prabhupada’s corrective

Changing the title to “Dhyāna-yoga” removes that corrective emphasis and defaults back to the format familiar from other editions. This is exactly what makes the change problematic. If Prabhupada was deliberately shifting the focus — away from impersonal or secular yoga narratives and toward theistic Sankhya — then the editorial change undoes his work.
This is not a disagreement with previous ācāryas. It is a disagreement with editing the ācārya after his departure.

The issue, therefore, is not whether “Dhyāna-yoga” is a legitimate title in the wider tradition, but whether BBTI has the right to retroactively override Srila Prabhupada’s intentional wording in Bhagavad-gita As It Is. A single change in a chapter title may seem small, but it signals a larger trend: the subtle reshaping of Prabhupada’s work through posthumous editing instead of paramparā.

That is why this matters — not because of a word, but because of the principle.

10.18.25
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The Myth of the Comma Fanatic: Why Every Edit Matters

By Ajit Krishna Dasa

Sometimes devotees laugh at those who object to “minor edits” in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s books. They say, “Come on — only fanatics would object to correcting a comma, a typo, or a small grammar mistake!” And many accept that reasoning without much thought, assuming that those who resist changes must simply be sentimental or stubborn.

But this attitude hides a serious misunderstanding. It assumes that changing a small detail is harmless, and that the only people who care are extremists. In reality, the issue is not about commas or spelling at all — it’s about who has the right to adjust the words of the spiritual master.

Once we say, “We can change a word for clarity,” we have already accepted the principle that human judgment can improve what was spoken by the pure devotee. And if that principle is accepted once, it can be applied again and again — not just to commas, but to sentences, meanings, and even philosophy. The logic that allows one small change can justify any change.

To call those who resist such logic “fanatics” is easy, but it misses the point entirely. Their concern is not over grammar — it is over preserving the disciplic succession intact. The words of the ācārya are sacred sound vibrations, not material literature to be polished according to our taste.

What follows will show — step by step — how even the smallest editorial correction rests on a principle that, once accepted, opens the door to an endless chain of justifications. What begins as “just a comma” can quietly become the rewriting of revelation itself.

To see this clearly, we must put emotion aside and follow the logic wherever it leads — beginning with the simple question, “Why change a comma?”

The Logical Skeleton of the “Comma Correction” Problem

Let’s define the argument formally and trace the logic step by step.

1. The Act

An editor proposes to change a comma in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s text.

Let’s denote:

  • A: the act of editing (in this case, a comma correction)
  • P: the principle or justification offered for editing

2. The Principle (P)

When asked “Why make this change?”, the editor must appeal to some underlying principle.
Examples might include:

  1. P₁: To make the text clearer.
  2. P₂: To make it grammatically correct.
  3. P₃: To make it more acceptable to scholars.
  4. P₄: To make it easier for modern readers to understand.

Each of these is a normative principle — a rule about how and why editing is justified.

3. The Universalizability Test

A principle, once invoked, cannot rationally be restricted to one case unless there is an additional principle that limits it.

So, if we accept P₁: “We may change the text to make it clearer,” then that principle must logically apply to all cases where the editor believes clarity could be improved.

This is the universalization of P₁.
It follows from the principle of consistency — that identical reasons must yield identical permissions in identical types of cases.

4. The Problem of Subjectivity

Now, terms like “clarity,” “correctness,” and “scholarly acceptance” are subjective when judged by material standards.
There exists no empirical or linguistic rule by which such clarity can be objectively verified in spiritual literature.

The only true standard of clarity is the revealed principle that transcendental sound must be preserved exactly as spoken by the realized soul.
Therefore, applying P₁ or P₂ based on academic or personal judgment replaces revealed authority with subjective interpretation.

That judgment is fallible, culturally conditioned, and limited by material perspective.

So: P₁ ⇒ subjective authority replaces divine authority.

5. Slippery Slope Formalized

We can now model the chain of reasoning:

  1. Accept A₁: “Change comma for clarity.”
  2. This implies acceptance of P₁: “We may change anything that increases clarity.”
  3. By universalizability, P₁ applies to any word, sentence, or concept.
  4. The editor, being the judge of clarity, now possesses implicit interpretive authority.
  5. The distinction between “editor” and “author” dissolves in principle.

Therefore: A₁ ⇒ authorization of all Aₙ justified by the same principle.

This is the essence of the slippery slope — not a mere rhetorical trope, but a logical entailment: once the normative justification for one action applies equally to more consequential actions, those actions are justified in principle unless an independent limiting condition is introduced.

6. The Limiting Condition Problem

To halt the slope, one must introduce a limiting condition — a new premise L that restricts P₁.
For example: L: “We may only edit commas, but not words.”

However, L itself must be justified by a new principle Pᴸ.
If Pᴸ lacks independent justification, it is arbitrary.
And arbitrary limits collapse under rational scrutiny.

Thus, unless one can show a non-arbitrary, divinely sanctioned, epistemically objective boundary between “permissible correction” and “impermissible alteration,” the permission to change anything for clarity logically includes permission to change everything for clarity.

7. The Transcendental Counterprinciple

The only consistent way to avoid the slope is to affirm an opposite axiom:

P* : The author’s words are inviolable, as they carry transcendental authority.

Here, clarity is not improved by editing the text, but by purifying the reader’s consciousness.
This inverts the premise entirely: instead of adjusting revelation to fit human comprehension, the human must adjust his comprehension to fit revelation.

8. Conclusion

The argument against even a “comma correction” is not fanaticism — it is philosophical consistency.
Because once you accept a humanly defined justification for altering revealed speech, you’ve imported a subjective epistemology into a domain that claims divine origin.
That is not editing — it’s epistemic rebellion disguised as scholarship.

The Comma Argument — Explained Simply

If the above explanation felt a little technical, here is the same argument expressed in simpler terms.
And if you already understood everything written above, you don’t need to read this — but it may still help you explain it to others.

1. What Begins as Small

An editor wishes to correct what seems like a small detail in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s book — perhaps a misplaced comma or a minor grammar issue. It sounds harmless, almost helpful.

2. The Justification

When asked why, the editor replies:
“To make it clearer,” or
“To make it grammatically correct,” or
“To make it more respectable to scholars,” or
“To help modern readers understand.”
This reason — whatever it is — becomes the principle that justifies the change.

3. The Law of Consistency

But once a principle is accepted, it cannot logically apply only once.
If we can change one comma for the sake of clarity, then that same rule allows changes to any word, sentence, or idea — whenever an editor feels it will improve clarity.
The permission extends to all similar cases.

4. The Real Issue: Whose Standard?

Words like “clarity,” “correctness,” and “modern understanding” are not absolute. They depend on culture, education, and opinion.
So, if we rely on these human measures, then human judgment becomes the standard.
That means divine revelation is being adjusted according to the limitations of the editor.
Yet śāstra gives a higher rule: the words of the realized soul are perfect as they are. Our duty is to understand them through humility and service, not revision.

5. How the Slope Works

Once the principle of editing is accepted, it can be used again and again.
First a comma, then a phrase, then a whole sentence — each change defended by the same reasoning: “It’s clearer now.”
This is not a paranoid fear; it’s the logical consequence of the principle itself.

6. The Futile Attempt to Draw a Line

Someone might say, “We will only correct minor things.”
But that limit has no real foundation.
If we may change for clarity, then anything can be changed if it seems unclear.
Any stopping point is arbitrary — a line drawn in sand.
Unless there is a divinely given boundary, the permission to change one thing is permission to change everything.

7. The Only Consistent Principle

There is only one safe and consistent position:
The words of the ācārya must remain exactly as they are.
We do not make transcendental sound more “perfect” — it is already perfect.
Our task is not to edit the message, but to purify the heart so that we can hear it properly.

8. The True Meaning of Faithfulness

To reject editing is not fanaticism — it is fidelity.
It means accepting that revelation stands above our judgment.
Once human reasoning is allowed to “improve” divine sound, the message ceases to be revelation and becomes interpretation.
That is how “fixing a comma” slowly becomes rewriting the words of a pure devotee.