Buddhism and all that Jazz...

Here I am on the edge of academia -- right in the butt crack of the two cheeks of Harvard and MIT: Central Square. To be more accurate, I'm not in the crack -- I wanted to be in the crack, but my planned pilgrimage to 1369 Coffee House ended in despair as I realized that the cliche of having a coffee and blogging on your MacBook already had its quota filled at the Central Square establishment and I would have to take my 21st century technology enhanced middle-class musings elsewhere. So I'm a little left of the crack, grasping at the hairy tendrils of the outer limits of Harvard's campus at a neighboring Au Bon Pain. Thank God they have wireless. I probably would have had a hissy fit and mope over my americano, all the time wallowing in the misery of not sharing my existential crisis with the rest of cyberspace. Fortunately, you're getting the rant now and the dose-response curve of my caffeine absorption is just starting to look up.

It has been over a month since I've graced the presence of my own blog, so what impetus could get me off of my mathematical ass and write for a change? Good question. Aside from it being IAP and not having the normal grind of course work, I suppose I just felt inspired to share some thoughts related to a book I recently read: Buddha for Beginners.

I really got a kick out of this book. Not only is it well-illustrated, but the author, Stephen T. Asma, is a professor of philosophy at Columbia College in Chicago, and really tries to give a no-nonsense summary of Buddha's life, the various principles and schools of Hinduism, how Buddha's original teachings departed from these ideas, and how later sects have found their own inspired path to Enlightenment. The presentation is very clear and has really helped me crystallize my understanding of Buddhism. So surprise! You're going to get a book report and I will use someone else's words as a surrogate for my own.

What is the natural starting point for most religions? God. He (she, it, thing, flying rattapotamus, whatever) is kind of a big deal for most people. Thanks to this abstract label of "God" we have had a simple three letter monosyllabic word for not only all the monstrosity of creation, but also any conceivable reason to do or not do something, including, but not limited to, why touching yourself is "immoral" and pretty much any reason why you should hate or love, kill or help anyone at anytime. It probably is worth repeating: God is kind of a big deal. So, How do our Hindu friends view God?

God, in the Upanishads, is the creative originating principle for the entire cosmos. All of nature is in a relentless state of flux or becoming. Animals grow old and perish, seasons come and go, political empires pass away, solar systems arise and collapse...and bell-bottoms go in and out of fashion. All these things make up the ever-changing world of "Becoming", but these are really only manifestations of the all-encompassing reality. The all-encompassing foundation is Being itself or Brahman, which is the source of all created things. Underlying all the changes of the natural world lies the changeless essential reality of God. (pp. 37-38)

Shit... "creative originating principle"!? I thought God was some dude in robes who sat on a chair with an awesome white beard that looks like it has been conditioned with Pantene Pro-V every morning and evening since the birth of the Universe. He's not a "principle," he's an auto-mechanic, the engineer of the Universe, and he even takes Sundays off to watch football and drink beer. What is this Hindu hogwash?

In the Hindu tradition, however, God is not only the antecendent and transcendent world-maker, Brahman is also the world itself. The natural world around us, that we encounter on a daily basis, is not simply God's created artifact -- it is Brahman itself. The natural world is just a manifestation of God and the two cannot really be separated (p. 40)

Okay, well I've heard my Christian friends say "God is everywhere," but the anthropomorphization of the Birkenstock-wearing big old dude in the clouds still seems to be the mental model many people in the West have of God. Naturally, the Hindu pantheistic viewpoint of God aligns nicely with the derived spirituality of many western thinkers who I admire -- Einstein, Spinoza, et al -- and to people who have really studied physics, I think the "God:=The Universe" is the mental model for many scientists and mathematicians. The question "Do you believe in God?" really seems to be a poisoned apple, if you believe in anything, and the universe seems to be plausible thing to believe in, then it almost seems absurd to say "No." The quicksand starts because no one ever states clearly their definition for God, so agreeing with the question is guaranteed trouble. However, this post isn't about God, and the Hindu conception of Brahman is incorporated in Buddhist thinking as well. The main difference between Hinduism and Buddhism (aside from the caste system, the status of women, etc) is the belief in a soul or Atman:

More important for understanding the Buddha's philosophical revolution is the related Hindu concept of Atman or "soul." Just as there is this permanent essential reality underlying Nature called Being or Brahman, there is also an unchanging dimension of human beings -- namely, Atman. The principal less of the Upanishads is that both the fluctuating cosmos and the ever-changing material human body are only distracting veils (maya) over the important spiritual reality. Tn the case of human beings, there is a changeless soul or "ego" that provides the continuity beneath the fleeting material person. (p. 42)

The last, and perhaps most difficult part of Hindu philosophy for us to understand is the relationship between Brahman and Atman. Brahman is God and Atman is the individual self, but in a deeper sense they are both the same thing. Most properly speaking, there is only one permanent reality and that is God, but the individual selves are manifestations or expressions of God temporarily separated from itself. There is an ideal unity of the soul of the human (Atman) and the soul of the universe (Brahman). Individual selves are related to God like sparks to a fire...or water droplets to the sea - they are not qualitatively different and yet they are temporarily estranged from each other... The transcendent un-manifested Brahman does not need to achieve liberation from ignorance, because it is already completely perfected and free. But the eternally Divine God seeks to express itself through many conscious selves because in this way it is able to rise above ignorance. As the cosmic play unfolds, human egos continue to conquer the challenges of living and realize self-knowledge. With this conquering of ignorance we are reunited with the Universal Consciousness and this saga is one of the infinite expressions that flow from Brahman. The aim of the Cosmic Dance is to celebrate itself. (pp. 47-48)

Wow. Ok. Sounds great. Sign me up. But before I do that we should take a look at the Buddha's view on things. The trouble with the above picture as I see it (and apparently as the Buddha saw it) is this posited "soul" or "ego" or "Atman." Living only hop, skip and a jump away from one of the most active centers for brain research, lends one to question the metaphysical status of the "I." Apparently the most radical difference between Buddhism and Hinduism is "Anatman" or a belief in no-Self!

To argue that there is no immortal self is to pull a very comforting rug out from under religious thinking. The idea that some part of us lives on and on is pleasing and satisfies our craving for immortality. According to the Buddha, however, satisfying cravings is not the path to truth.

Not only is there no evidence for an immortal self, but to believe in its existence, according to the Buddha, will lead to an immoral life. It leads to evil because such a belief is ultimately ego-centered and selfish, and human beings will be unable to free themselves if they are seeking rewards in their future lives. In the Samyutta Nikaya, the Buddha states:

"All formations are transient; all formations are subject to suffering; all things are without a self (anatman). Form is transient, feeling is transient, perception is transient, mental formations are transient, consciousness is transient."

According to the Buddha, realizing and understanding that we have no immortal self or soul is part of the enlightenment process is a feature of our awakening. (pp. 51-53)

Wow! Holy shit! The Buddha was actually more materialistic and rational than one would expect! In one fell swoop we have undermined the basis for most Judeo-Christian-Islamic ethics: Fear of an afterlife. Not only do we reject the notion of a soul that persists after death, but we go as far to argue that acting out of fear of consequences in potentially experienced during the after life can lead to immoral behavior since the desire to avoid pain in the afterlife actually is a selfish endeavor (suicide bombers and crusaders go without further mention).

Okay, so what about the perceived continuity of "my" experiences?

The ego that ties together all of one's perceptions and feelings and thoughts is figmentary, according to the Buddha. Contrary to Descartes, we cannot deduce the existence of an "I" from the act of thinking (cogitating). A person is really only a bundle of perceptions.

There is nothing "substantially" the same in my childhood and adulthood, but the causal process itself gives a kind of continuity between bundles of thoughts and impressions.

The Buddha dispels the myth of the metaphysical self (atman) as an underlying entity through life spans. But he understands that each person feels a sense of themself as a self or ego. This palpable experience of the "I" is not completely illusory, for the Buddha claims that it is produced out of the combinations or conjunctions of feeling (vedana), perception (sanna), disposition (sankhara), consciousness (vinnana) and body (rupa). These are the five aggregates (khanda) or bundles of personhood and though each of these is impermanent and always fluctuating, they combine in the "felt" sense of the personal ego. (pp. 58-59)

What is interesting is that Buddhism does not discard the notion of Karma, but instead recasts it into a perceived quality of cause and effect. Instead of letting materialism devolve into a hedonistic frenzy of drinking, drug-taking and fornicating, the Buddha felt that these were just causes of more suffering (when done in excess) and the goal of Buddhism is to (as pragmatically as possible) reduce suffering. We must reject the afterlife and "the wheel of becoming" if we are ever truly going to become free. At the core of the Four Noble Truths

1. All existence is suffering (dukkha)
2. Suffering is caused by craving or attachment.
3. Suffering can end through non-attachment.
4. The way to end suffering is the Noble Eightfold Path.

is that we become attached to our perceptions and our lives, this in turn causes suffering. As Professor Stephen T. Asma so eloquently explicates:

Suffering flows from clinging attachment which mistakes impermanent things and sensations for lasting and permanent realities. Attachment is a confusion, in the mind and the heart, that tries to capture or solidify that which is forever in flux. (p. 80)

Although I disagree that "All existence is suffering" the core issue that "Suffering is caused by attachment" rings truer every time I hear it. What is interesting is that the Buddha dwells less on metaphysical musing in favor of trying to implement a pragmatic "general life principle" for ending one's own suffering. This "Noble Eightfold Path" outlined in the Samyutta Nikaya text advises:

1. Right Understanding
2. Right Mindedness
3. Right Speech
4. Right Action
5. Right Living
6. Right Effort
7. Right Attentiveness
8. Right Concentration

What I love about Buddhism is the idea that one should use the Noble Eightfold Path to pursue the Middle Way between the two extremes of indulgence and asceticism. It is neither dogmatism nor moral relativism, it is contextual and adaptable to the situation. Coolest of all, is that for Buddhism intellectual rigor is a "virtue" and ignorance is a "sin." As Asma explains the first step on the Noble Eightfold Path, logical thinking is not at odds with Enlightenment.

Right Understanding: Similar to Socrates's famous position that the good life is the "examined" life, the Buddha believes that intellectual and emotional confusion must be grappled with on a daily basis. Right Understanding occurs when one pierces through the veil of naive consciousness (thinking of ourselves as Ego) to arrive at the true nature of things. The Buddha, and Socrates after him, understood that clarity of thought was most difficult regarding issues where the passions had a strong interest. One has to be especially vigilant for the temptations that can arise from the aggregate sensations. (p. 87)

What is more interesting... is that original Buddhism treats intellectual rigor as a virtue and ignorance as a sin. Some later sects of Buddhism have shared similar hostilities with Western Religions towards the intellect, claiming that ignorant faith is more important than logical thought. Right Understanding is the thoughtful discernment that helps a person see past the quick-fix gratifications to long-range karmic implications. Critical thinking, for the Buddha, is part of the moral path to freedom, for it allows one to recognize internal confusion. (p. 89)

Hot Damn! A religion that embraces critical thinking, advocates the use of Aristotle's rule of the Golden Mean (balance between dogmatism and relativism) and is fundamentally pantheistic-borderline-atheistic. Everything else is just rules of thumb and practices to help end suffering. Sounds good to me. Meditation, at the end of the day, is just time to come to center and appreciate a state of freedom from worldly suffering.

I think this one is a winner, yet Buddhism as Professor Asma presents may depart from what most of my fellow Westerners think Buddhism is. To conclude this excessively long post, I offer Asma's own Postscript:

To actually examine the complex debates of early and later Buddhism is an eye-opening experience. For some time now, the West has been stereo-typing the East as a convenient "other" -- a land of intuition and enigma. Philosophical traditions like Buddhism are seen as deeply irrational, inherently mysterious and ultimately inscrutable. Lamentably, this stereotype has been used by those Rationalist Westerners who hope to feel superior to the "backward" Eastern people. But more recently, the same stereotype is being employed by "New Age" Westerners to elevate irrationalism and mysticism -- claiming Eastern intuitionism as the righteous path out of Western exploitation and alienation. One group shots out Buddhism's difference from Western Philosophy with derision in their voices, and the other group shouts out Buddhism's difference with adoration in their voices.

The irony of all this is that when one actually digs beneath the piles of self-improvement styled pop-spiritual dreck to find the original source material of both traditions, an astounding solidarity of common questions and methods emerges. Aristotle and the early Hinayana philosophers, for example, struggle with very similar questions of permanence and change in quite analogous ways. Or compare Gautama's and the Stoic Epictetus's moral philosophy, where a similar self mastery of the passions becomes the highest freedom in a real world of servitude. In short, anybody who thinks that Buddhists are less rational than Westerners, should read their Nagarjuna. And anybody who thinks that Westerners are narrowly logistic, should read their Plato. (p. 143)

Deep Ecology

Hello and welcome again to Justin's endless effort to procrastinate less interesting work in favor of the quest for insight!

My 21W.775 - Writing about Nature and Environmental Issues, is the first humanities class I've taken at MIT that is NOT a philosophy class. Believe me ladies and gentlemen, that I would have never ventured outside the lofty domains of Course 24 - Philosophy and Linguistics, is it hadn't been for the wretched "HASS-D" requirement of MIT, that requires that I explore at least 3 flavors of the same ice cream: Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences.

What have I done to negotiate this forced exposure to other fields? Crafted the class into my own philosophy course of course! So far I've successfully been able to dictate my own philosophical-personal style of writing and have been received warmly. For an upcoming 10-12 page research paper, we've been asked to investigate some environmental issue of something relating to this area. My chosen topic is the Environmental Ethics of Zen Buddhism. Ha! Take that for forcing me to follow an assignment!

In my search for references, I actually came across a very good book by the name of "Zen Buddhism and Environmental Ethics" by Simon P. James. In my first pass of the book, I ran across this notion of "Deep Ecology" which asserts that our current environmental crisis cannot be solved by the application of more science and technology. Rather it requires a deep shift in western consciousness in how we view our place in nature. Apparently one of the first proponents of this idea was Lynn White a professor in Medieval History who in a 1967 issue of Science, wrote "The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis".

In White's essay I've found a interesting analysis of the psychological foundations for our current relationship with the environment. Upon first reading I became convinced that it was one of the direct influences on Daniel Quinn's amazing book Ishmael.

The underlying idea is that the roots of modern science lie inside a Christian world view, which focuses on Man's quest to dominate, understand and subvert nature. The closing of the class gap has put the need and desire for technology in touch with the higher pursuits of pure science. Like gasoline on a fire, we've exploded in capability and population as a result of this, and even though the concerns of over-population and the environment are relatively new ones, we've been sowing the seeds of our destruction for hundreds of years.


As a beginning we should try to clarify our thinking by looking, in some historical depth, at the presuppositions that underlie modern technology and science. Science was traditionally aristocratic, speculative, intellectual in intent; technology was lower-class, empirical, action-oriented. The quite sudden fusion of these two, towards the middle of the 19th century, is surely related to the slightly prior and contemporary democratic revolutions which, by reducing social barriers, tended to assert a functional unity of brain and hand. Our ecologic crisis is the product of an emerging, entirely novel, democratic culture. The issue is whether a democratized world can survive its own implications. Presumably we cannot unless we rethink our axioms.

One of the things which struck me about this excerpt is the striking resemblance of "brain and hand" with MIT's slogan "Mens et Manus" -- "Mind and Hand."

Especially in its Western form, Christianity is the most anthropocentric religion the world has seen. As early as the 2nd century both Tertullian and Saint Irenaeus of Lyons were insisting that when God shaped Adam he was foreshadowing the image of the incarnate Christ, the Second Adam. Man shares, in great measure, God's transcendence of nature. Christianity, in absolute contrast to ancient paganism and Asia's religions (except, perhaps, Zorastrianism), not only established a dualism of man and nature but also insisted that it is God's will that man exploit nature for his proper ends.

At the level of the common people this worked out in an interesting way. In Antiquity every tree, every spring, every stream, every hill had its own genius loci, its guardian spirit. These spirits were accessible to men, but were very unlike men; centaurs, fauns, and mermaids show their ambivalence. Before one cut a tree, mined a mountain, or dammed a brook, it was important to placate the spirit in charge of that particular situation, and to keep it placated. By destroying pagan animism, Christianity made it possible to exploit nature in a mood of indifference to the feelings of natural objects.

And some people wonder why I'm a pagan.

The Greeks believed that sin was intellectual blindness, and that salvation was found in illumination, orthodoxy--that is, clear thinking. The Latins, on the other hand, felt that sin was moral evil, and that salvation was to be found in right conduct. Eastern theology has been intellectualist. Western theology has been voluntarist. The Greek saint contemplates; the Western saint acts. The implications of Christianity for the conquest of nature would emerge more easily in the Western atmosphere.

I was not aware of this divide even within the church. I suppose it goes to show what an evolving, self-selecting entity religion can be. It also points to why it so hard to say matter-of-factly "I am Christian." What breed of Christian? What time and place of Christianity are you referring to? In many ways, I find the gnostic and early Christian ideas incredibly interesting. I might even say I'd believe in some of their ideas, but it seems frightening to me to then say that I am Christian.

But since God had made nature, nature also must reveal the divine mentality. The religious study of nature for the better understanding of God was known as natural theology. In the early Church, and always in the Greek East, nature was conceived primarily as a symbolic system through which God speaks to men: the ant is a sermon to sluggards; rising flames are the symbol of the soul's aspiration. The view of nature was essentially artistic rather than scientific.

Ditto. Then enters the big bad Latin West --

However, in the Latin West by the early 13th century natural theology was following a very different bent. It was ceasing to be the decoding of the physical symbols of God's communication with man and was becoming the effort to understand God's mind by discovering how his creation operates. The rainbow was no longer simply a symbol of hope first sent to Noah after the Deluge: Robert Grosseteste, Friar Roger Bacon, and Theodoric of Freiberg produced startlingly sophisticated work on the optics of the rainbow, but they did it as a venture in religious understanding. From the 13th century onward, up to and including Leibnitz and Newton, every major scientist, in effect, explained his motivations in religious terms. Indeed, if Galileo had not been so expert an amateur theologian he would have got into far less trouble: the professionals resented his intrusion. And Newton seems to have regarded himself more as a theologian than as a scientist. It was not until the late 18th century that the hypothesis of God became unnecessary to many scientists.

The hypothesis may now be unnecessary, but the view of conquest and understanding remains.

If so, then modern Western science was cast in a matrix of Christian theology.

Professor White, then brings us the bad news:

I personally doubt that disastrous ecologic backlash can be avoided simply by applying to our problems more science and more technology. Our science and technology have grown out of Christian attitudes toward man's relation to nature which are almost universally held not only by Christians and neo-Christians but also by those who fondly regard themselves as post-Christians. Despite Copernicus, all the cosmos rotates around our little globe. Despite Darwin, we are not, in our hearts, part of the natural process. We are superior to nature, contemptuous of it, willing to use it for our slightest whim.

I can only hope that he is wrong, and there are some indications that he is wrong. The environmental movement spurred by essays like this one have reached the shores of scientists and politicians and (some of us) are working fast to correct our poor steering of the past few centuries. The human mind has produced some incredible good and I am optimistic enough to think that we will develop some brilliant inventions to reduce our impact on this world and stabilize our place on this little blue marble.

I have no doubt that life on Earth will survive until our solar system suffers from a cold death in a few billion years, it is only a question of whether or not humans will outlast the next few centuries.

What I envision is a scientific-enlightened citizenry that adopts some of the more buddhist and animist ways of thinking, in an effort to live in harmony with other life on Earth. By wedding mind and hand, we did more than we knew better to do, but our consciousness is catching up with our capabilities and I can only hope that a wedding of mind and spirit will be able right the wrongs of the past.