The Two Faces of Ashoka

What image flickers to life when you hear the name "Emperor Ashoka"?

For many in India, it might be the romanticised portrayal from the movie Asoka, starring Shah Rukh Khan and Kareena Kapoor. For others, it’s the image of a benevolent king, a convert to Buddhism, a champion of peace.

His lion capital, a symbol of power and dharma, adorns India’s national emblem, and his chakra, the wheel of dharma, graces its flag.

This is the Ashoka enshrined in textbooks and popular culture. But what if the story we’ve been told is a carefully curated myth, a whitewashed version of a far more complex and troubling reality?

What if the “Great” Ashoka was a man of profound contradictions, his path to power paved with blood, his later image meticulously crafted to conceal a dark and violent past?

Who was the real Ashoka?

What was he truly like?

In this post, we'll delve into the historical facts to uncover the man behind the legend and burst the myth that he transformed into a Buddhist after witnessing the horrors of the Kalinga War.

We'll also explore the intriguing legend of the Nine Unknown Men, a secret society believed to have been founded by Ashoka to preserve and develop dangerous knowledge, and the historical significance of his edicts.

This is the story we intend to unearth – the story of the real Ashoka.

Born in 304 BCE, Ashoka’s lineage is a tapestry woven with threads of both fact and speculation. He was the son of Bindusara, the formidable emperor of the Mauryas, but the story of his mother, Subhadrangi (also known as Dharma or Subhadrangi), is where the narrative becomes more intricate.

Various accounts depict Bindusara falling deeply in love with Subhadrangi while she was attending to him as a royal hairdresser. However, these same accounts often present a dilemma: Bindusara, bound by the rigid social hierarchies of the time, initially believed marriage to her was impossible due to her perceived low-caste status. But then, a convenient twist: Subhadrangi is revealed to be the daughter of a Brahmin family, instantly legitimizing the union.

This narrative raises a crucial question: was this a genuine revelation of her true lineage, or a carefully crafted fabrication designed to smooth over a socially problematic union?

It's highly plausible that this was a strategic manipulation of historical records, a common practice among ancient monarchs seeking to legitimize their rule and solidify their dynasty’s power.

The more likely scenario, supported by some historical interpretations, is that Subhadrangi was indeed a woman of humble origins, perhaps even a low-caste hairdresser. This potential social stigma surrounding his mother's background might have profoundly impacted Ashoka, creating a deep-seated insecurity and a relentless drive to prove himself. This was further compounded by the fact that he was not the designated heir, his half-brother, Susima, held that position.

And as if these challenges weren’t enough, Ashoka was also burdened by his physical appearance. Historical records describe him as short, stout, with a disfigured face and a rough skin condition.

Bindusara himself reportedly found Ashoka’s appearance unsuitable for a future emperor. Yet, despite these perceived shortcomings, Ashoka possessed undeniable qualities: intelligence, assertiveness, and a natural talent for leadership.

These qualities, though initially overshadowed by his physical appearance and his mother’s social status, would ultimately prove to be his greatest assets.

This perceived lack of noble lineage cast a shadow over Ashoka, fueling a relentless ambition, a burning need to prove himself worthy of the throne, worthy of respect, worthy of recognition. Imagine the sting of that constant rejection, the feeling of being forever overlooked by his own father.

Ashoka was not the crown prince, that title belonged to his half-brother, Susima, the son favoured by Bindusara. But Ashoka, though seemingly dismissed by his father due to his physical appearance—described as short, stout, with a rough skin condition—possessed a cunning mind and a steely resolve. He had already demonstrated his military prowess by decisively quelling a rebellion in Taxila, a strategically crucial frontier city.

This success earned him the viceroyalty of Ujjain, a position of considerable power. There, he honed his political skills, cultivating alliances with influential ministers, and strategically positioning himself to seize the throne.

When Bindusara finally succumbed to illness in 274 BCE, Ashoka struck. He raced to Pataliputra, the capital, preempting Susima’s return. What followed was not a peaceful succession but a calculated coup, a bloody power grab orchestrated with ruthless efficiency. With the aid of Greek mercenaries and his loyal allies, Ashoka not only seized the city but also orchestrated the assassination of his own brother Susima.

The Ashokavadana(sanskrit-language text) tells a chilling tale of Susima being tricked into a burning pit filled with charcoal—a horrifying end for the rightful heir. But Ashoka’s thirst for power was not yet quenched. He embarked on a campaign of fratricide, killing 99 of his half-brothers, leaving only his youngest brother, Vitashoka (Tissa), alive. This was not a mere transfer of power, it was a massacre, a chilling testament to Ashoka’s ambition.

Now known as Chandashoka, “Ashoka the Cruel,” his reign was defined by terror. He commissioned the creation of a special prison, a torture chamber masquerading as a pleasure palace: “Ashoka’s Hell”. Imagine the scene: a lavishly decorated exterior, promising luxury and respite. But within its walls lay a labyrinth of unimaginable horrors. Instruments of torture lined the corridors: iron maidens designed to impale victims, racks to stretch limbs until they snapped, devices to crush bones and inflict agonizing pain. Ashoka, it is said, would visit this chamber, not as a penitent, but as a spectator, deriving a perverse pleasure from witnessing the suffering of those who dared to rebel against him.

The image of a man capable of such cruelty is later conveniently sanitized under a thin veneer of remorse, supposedly triggered by the carnage of war and the sight of a few thousand corpses, a starkly inadequate explanation for such a profound transformation.

This echoes the chilling practices of later dictators like Saddam Hussein, whose regime was notorious for its brutal suppression of dissent. Saddam, like Ashoka, maintained elaborate torture chambers, places where human suffering became a spectacle, a tool of intimidation and control. These parallels, while separated by centuries, underscore a disturbing truth: the abuse of power, the thirst for absolute control, and the capacity for human cruelty are not confined to a particular era or culture. Both Ashoka and Saddam, despite their contrasting ideologies, shared a chilling fascination with the infliction of pain and the exercise of absolute power, a dark reminder of the potential for tyranny that lurks within even the most powerful individuals

In 262 BCE, Ashoka’s ambition turned to the kingdom of Kalinga (modern-day Odisha). The resulting war was a cataclysm, a bloodbath of unimaginable scale. The Mauryan army, a force of immense power, clashed with the determined Kalingan defenders. The battlefields became rivers of blood, the stench of death permeating the air. The death toll was staggering: an estimated 100,000 soldiers perished, and 150,000 were taken prisoner. Imagine the horror: bodies piled high, the cries of the wounded echoing across the ravaged landscape. The rivers, it is said, ran red with blood, a gruesome testament to Ashoka’s merciless campaign. This was not simply a war; it was a massacre, a stain on Ashoka's legacy that no amount of subsequent piety could fully erase.

The traditional narrative presents the Kalinga War as Ashoka’s moment of epiphany, the catalyst for his conversion to Buddhism and his renunciation of violence. But the historical record tells a different story. Ashoka’s own edicts reveal that he had been a lay Buddhist for two and a half years before the Kalinga War. This raises a critical question: if he was already a follower of the dharma, why would this particular battle trigger such a dramatic transformation? The “repentance,” it seems, was more likely a calculated move, a strategic image makeover designed to repair his reputation after the horrific events in Kalinga.

Even after his supposed conversion, the violence did not cease. The Ashokavadana claims that Ashoka ordered the Jain devotee and his entire family to be locked inside their house, which was then set ablaze. They were burned alive. But the violence didn't end there. Ashoka then issued a decree offering a gold coin for every Jain head brought to him. This incited a wave of violence against the Jain community, with widespread killings reported.

The account goes on to say that the violence only ceased after a tragic case of mistaken identity. Ashoka's own brother, Vitashoka (also known as Tissa) who was spared by Ashoka when he killed his other 99 step brothers when he came to power, who had become a Buddhist monk now, was mistakenly killed by a cowherd who mistook him for a Jain. Distraught by this accidental fratricide, Ashoka is said to have finally called off the persecution.

It's crucial to approach this account with a critical eye. It originates from Buddhist texts, which may have had a bias against other religious groups. However, the story's presence in these sources contributes to the overall picture of Ashoka as a complex and contradictory figure, whose commitment to religious tolerance was, at times, severely compromised.

Ashoka’s edicts, inscribed on rocks and pillars across his vast empire—the ancient equivalent of “Billboard Advertisements” carved into stone—were intended to spread his message of dharma. But these pronouncements, while promoting peace and tolerance, also served a political purpose. As historian Swapna Liddle explains, the distribution of these edicts and their later reinterpretation suggest a deliberate attempt to control his historical narrative. Edicts placed far from the Mauryan capital, like those eventually found in Delhi, offer a different perspective, less influenced by the central authority’s attempts at whitewashing.

The legend of the Nine Unknown Men, a secret society supposedly founded by Ashoka to preserve dangerous knowledge, adds another layer of intrigue. While there’s no concrete historical evidence to support their existence, the legend resonates with the theme of hidden influence and control. It brings to mind other narratives of secret societies wielding power from the shadows, such as the popular conception of the Illuminati or the Nazi regime's obsession with the occult. Like the Nine, these groups are often associated with possessing esoteric knowledge and manipulating world events. The legend of the Nine Unknown Men, however, predates these later examples, suggesting that the human fascination with secret societies and hidden knowledge is a recurring theme throughout history.

Ashoka ruled for 38 years over a vast and diverse empire, achieving remarkable stability, albeit through a centralized and often corrupt bureaucracy. He invested in infrastructure, promoted trade, and implemented administrative reforms, contributing to the empire’s prosperity. He also played a crucial role in spreading Buddhism, though his own adherence to its principles was clearly selective. In the end, Ashoka was not the purely benevolent figure of popular imagination. He was a man of profound contradictions, capable of both great cruelty and significant achievements.

Imagine Ashoka, amidst the carnage of Kalinga, suddenly struck by remorse. This is the image we are presented with. But consider the facts: this is a man who had already spilled much blood to seize and secure his throne, a man who had created a palace of torture. This is not a man unfamiliar with death and suffering. Furthermore, he was already a follower of Buddhist principles long before the Kalinga War. Is it truly plausible that this one battle triggered such a complete and instantaneous change of heart? Or is there more to this story?

Disclaimer:

The information presented in this blog post is based on different historical texts and scholarly interpretations. History is a complex and often contested field, and different interpretations exist. I encourage you to conduct your own research and draw your own conclusions. Do not believe me blindly.

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