Gita 01.31 – Material long-term is not long-term enough

 

Link https://www.thespiritualscientist.com/gita-01-31-material-long-term-is-not-long-term-enough/

 

na ca śreyo ’nupaśyāmi

hatvā sva-janam āhave

na kāṅkṣe vijayaṁ kṛṣṇa

na ca rājyaṁ sukhāni ca

 

Word-for-word:

na — nor; ca — also; śreyaḥ — good; anupaśyāmi — do I foresee; hatvā — by killing; sva-janam — own kinsmen; āhave — in the fight; na — nor; kāṅkṣe — do I desire; vijayam — victory; kṛṣṇa — O Kṛṣṇa; na — nor; ca — also; rājyam — kingdom; sukhāni — happiness thereof; ca — also.

 

Translation:

I do not see how any good can come from killing my own kinsmen in this battle, nor can I, my dear Kṛṣṇa, desire any subsequent victory, kingdom or happiness.

 

Explanation:

Arjuna, in this verse, continues describing his situation. He says:

na ca śreyo ’nupaśyāmi : The word ‘paśyāmi’ is repeated here. Similar to the previous verse, this term is used more in a metaphysical or interpretational sense than in the literal visual sense.

When someone makes a point and we respond with ‘I see,’ it conveys our understanding of their statement. Similarly, if we ask, ‘Can you see what I am saying?’ it means we are checking whether the other person comprehends our perspective. In the same way, Arjuna uses the word ‘paśyāmi’ here to indicate intellectual or interpretational insight.

He explains that he cannot perceive any ‘śreyaḥ’—any long-term good or benefit—

hatvā sva-janam āhave : —in killing his own people on the battlefield. Therefore, he says:

na kāṅkṣe vijayaṁ kṛṣhṇa : “I do not desire victory, O Kṛṣhṇa,

na ca rājyaṁ sukhāni ca : nor do I desire the happiness that comes from possessing a kingdom.”

 

For Arjuna, two kinds of happiness await if they emerge victorious in battle. The first is the elation of victory. This joy can be compared to the thrill experienced in sports. For instance, in a closely contested cricket match, when the batsman hits the winning shot, the entire team bursts out of the pavilion to embrace him and celebrate. The exhilaration of triumph is a profound joy, and many people play or watch sports simply to experience that sense of elation.

 

Sometimes, the match itself may not hold much significance. It could be an inconsequential game, like a dead rubber, where the series outcome has already been decided with one match still remaining. Yet, even in such cases, the thrill of victory remains.

 

In contrast, imagine a World Cup final. For the winning team, there is not only the elation of victory but also the immense satisfaction of possessing the World Cup—the most prestigious award in the cricketing world.

 

Similarly, if Arjuna fights this war, he will gain not only the elation of victory over a formidable opponent but also possession of the entire kingdom. However, Arjuna argues that it is not worth it.

 

Ordinarily, a kṣatriya lives for such moments. For them, battle is like a sport—a test of skill where they strive to excel. Winning the battle is not just a matter of personal achievement but also a means to uphold dharma. Dharmic rulers, in particular, see victory as an opportunity to expand the rule of dharma. Therefore, the desire to win a battle and gain possession of a kingdom is typically regarded as both noble and worthwhile. In fact, many kṣatriyas dedicate their lives to such pursuits.

 

Yet, Arjuna is questioning what good can come from this. He uses the word ‘śreyaḥ’, which refers to long-term good. In Vedic philosophy, ‘śreyaḥ’ is often contrasted with ‘preyaḥ’. While ‘preyaḥ’ represents short-term gratification, ‘śreyaḥ’ signifies enduring welfare.

 

Here, Arjuna is clearly focused on the long term. He acknowledges that he does not see value in the thrill of victory or the joy of possessing the kingdom. Instead, he reflects on what comes after. Life is not just about acquiring a trophy—it is about living with the people who matter. If those he loves and those who love him are no longer by his side, then would the trophy truly be worth possessing?

 

Suppose a team wins the World Cup, but the cost of that victory is the destruction of the entire world. This may be an extreme example, but it illustrates the point. The team might possess the World Cup, yet none of their family members, relatives, well-wishers, or fans would remain to share in their triumph. In such a scenario, would there be any real joy in that victory? It would be an empty, hollow achievement.

 

This is roughly equivalent to the point Arjuna is making. He is thinking beyond the immediate thrill of winning and the satisfaction of possessing something. Instead, he is contemplating the prospect of living afterward.

 

He reflects on the consequences of ‘hatvā sva-janam āhave’—killing his own relatives in battle. The term ‘sva-jana’ emphasizes that these are his people, those he considers his own. Arjuna questions, “By killing my own people, what gain will I achieve from this?” At Arjuna’s level of thinking, this question is both profound and entirely valid.

 

Of course, the Bhagavad-gītā will reveal a higher way of thinking, where a different kind of reasoning prevails. While Arjuna’s reasoning appears very rational at his current level of understanding, it ultimately proves to be limited.

 

The key point here is that Arjuna says he is thinking long-term. However, the problem lies in the fact that his concept of the long term is not truly long enough. Arjuna’s concept of the long term is limited to considerations of the body. He is not reflecting on his identity as a soul, his eternal destiny, or the destiny of those who have chosen to fight on the side of adharma.

 

While Arjuna uses the word ‘śreyaḥ,’ his understanding of it—though broader than the ‘preyaḥ’ of winning and possessing the kingdom—is still incomplete. In reality, there are short-term, medium-term, and truly long-term perspectives. What Arjuna refers to as ‘śreyaḥ’ aligns more with a medium-term vision. The truly long-term vision operates at the level of the soul.

 

At this point, Arjuna is still reasoning at the bodily level. He is rejecting mere possessions, wanting instead to focus on his relationships.

 

This is a conflict many people face nowadays—whether to dedicate more time to their job or to their family. Those who choose to prioritize their careers often find, in the long run, that they end up with broken homes, where family members are dissatisfied and then drift apart. As a result, many spiritual, religious, or moral teachers emphasize the importance of maintaining a balance between work and family.

 

We cannot simply work all the time and neglect our family—that much is definitely true. However, the Bhagavad-gītā addresses something even greater. While those who speak of balancing work and family are well-intentioned, human needs extend beyond just these two spheres. Beyond work and family, we also have our profession, our relationships, and ultimately, our devotion to God.

 

We are not defined by the job we do or the family we belong to. Ultimately, we are defined as souls, and as souls, we have an eternal relationship with Kṛṣhṇa. The purpose, privilege, and prerogative of human life is to cultivate and deepen that relationship with Him. By developing this relationship, we can attain Him, particularly by cultivating pure love for Him.

 

The key is to recognize the eternality of the soul’s relationship with Kṛṣhṇa and the temporality of everything else.

Arjuna is reasoning at the level of the body, considering a longer-term view than immediate economic gains. This type of thinking is good—it is śreyaḥ, but his śreyaḥ is still of a medium-term nature. Kṛṣhṇa will eventually guide him toward the śreyaḥ of the truly long term, one that pertains to the soul. It is at this level that Kṛṣhṇa will instruct Arjuna to fulfill his kṣatriya duty of fighting, a topic that we will explore in our future sessions.

 

Thank you.