the power of love

Over the past few months or so, I've developed a growing appreciation for Christianity. Among the similarities I've already found between Buddhism and Christianity, another possibility is their seeming agreement on the salvific power of love.

In Richard Gombrich's new book, What the Buddha Thought, for example, he mentions that, while the idea of loving-kindness (metta) being salvific is often neglected in Theravada (i.e., the general consensus traditionally being that the four brahma-viharas themselves only lead to rebirth in the Brahma realms, not nibbana), there are texts in the Pali Canon extolling kindness and how it can lead to enlightenment. One is the Metta Sutta (found at Khp 9 and Snp 1.8), which begins with extolling kindness towards the world, and climaxes with this passage:

Towards the whole world one should develop loving thoughts boundless: upwards, downwards, sideways, without restriction, enmity or rivalry. Standing, walking, sitting or lying, one should be as alert as possible and keep one's mind on this. They call this divine living in the world. Not taking up ideas, virtuous with perfect insight, by controlling greed for sensual pleasure one does not return to lie in the womb. (Gombrich's translation)

He notes that, "This conclusion to the poem surely corroborates that the whole poem is about how one may become enlightened. Moreover, it is natural to interpret 'not returning to lie in the womb' as meaning that one will have escaped altogether from the cycle of rebirth, which is to say that one will have attained nirvana" (87). Of course, he's careful to point out that the poem doesn't state kindness alone will produce salvific results, and that it mentions other qualities of great importance (e.g., insight and self-control), but then he brings up Dhp 368:

The monk who dwells in kindness, with faith in the Buddha's teachings, may attain the peaceful state, the blissful cessation of conditioning. (Gombrich's translation)

Gombrich concludes this passage is "saying that kindness is salvific, and it is surely no coincidence that the term for nirvana, 'the peaceful state', is the same as the one used at the opening of the Metta Sutta" (87).

So while I'm not sure if love alone can lead to nibbana [the experience of ultimate reality], I'm more inclined to agree with Gombrich that it can be salvific in the proper context. It's one of the ten perfections, after all, which are not only the skillful qualities one develops as one follows the path to nibbana, but the basis of the path to full Buddhahood as well. And this, I think, accords well with passages in the Bible such as, "Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love" (1 John 4:8).

some rambling thoughts on consciouness

Truth be told, I've always found the subject of consciousness an interesting one, from a scientific, as well as a philosophic point of view. Lately (and I'm blaming this on all the philosophy I've been reading in the past few months or so), I've been questioning the sharp distinction that's often made between consciousness and matter.

For example, I find myself agreeing with Bertrand Russell that, the more we understand about matter (i.e., energy), the more it seems the word itself becomes "no more than a conventional shorthand for stating causal laws concerning events" (An Outline of Philosophy). This, of course, raises a number of possibilities, one of them being that what we call 'mind' and 'matter' is ultimately groups or structures of events arising from a substance that's neither mental nor material, but in between the two a la neutral monism.

But even that explanation doesn't fully satisfy me, and I find myself going back to the Buddha and Hume, both of which rejected the idea of mental substance in favour of what Hume called association of ideas and bundle of perceptions, and what the Buddha called heaps (khandha).

As Bertrand Russell summarizes Hume's empiricism, "Ideas of unperceived things or occurrences can always be defined in terms of perceived things or occurrences, and therefore, by substituting the definition for the term defined, we can always state that we know empirically without introducing any unperceived things or occurrences." Thus, "all psychological knowledge can be stated without introducing the 'Self'. Further, the 'Self', as defined can be nothing but a bundle of perceptions, not a new simple 'thing'" (A History of Western Philosophy, 603).

Moreover, I don't reject that specific mental events appear to be contingent upon corresponding physical events in the brain. I think it's been conclusively shown that there's a link between consciousness and the body via the brain, and that when the brain's damaged, the link between consciousness and the body is damaged. However, I'm not convinced that this in and of itself proves that consciousness is merely an emergent property of the brain, or that it ceases to exist when the brain itself no longer functions. Correlation doesn't necessarily imply causation.

I'll admit that it's looking more and more like that's the most likely scenario, but when I read things like The Holographic Universe, Quantum Mechanics and the Participating Observer, or even some of Rupert Sheldrake's crazy ideas regarding morphogeneic fields, I can't help but think that maybe it's not the whole picture. I suppose it could just be wishful thinking on my part, but I'm not ready to jump on the materialist bandwagon just yet.

Perhaps consciousness is simply a by-product of electrochemical processes in the brain, but perhaps there's another dimension to consciousness that science has yet to discover. I'm not saying that there is, mind you, but it's certainly a possibility. As B. Alan Wallace points out in an interview with Steve Paulson in the Templeton-Cambridge Journalism Fellowships in Science & Religion:

This very notion that the mind must simply be an emergent property of the brain — consisting only of physical phenomena and nothing more — is not a testable hypothesis... Can you test the statement that there is nothing else going on apart from physical phenomena and their emergent properties? The answer is no... If your sole access to the mind is by way of physical phenomena, then you have no way of testing whether all dimensions of the mind are necessarily contingent upon the brain.

Unfortunately, I doubt that I'll ever fully understand what consciousness is, or what its relationship to the body (and the material world) is. I'm just not that clever. So, in the end, this is one of those areas where I'll probably always remain somewhat skeptical; although, from a purely empirical point of view, I do find myself leaning more towards the idea that consciousness is simply a by-product of electrochemical processes in the brain based on the evidence we do have. Science can be very convincing in that respect.

Of course, that doesn't mean there isn't more to consciousness than what's been discovered thus far, or that I've completely discounted other possibilities, especially considering the fact that, in the spirit of full disclosure, my ethical-spiritual practice assumes the possibility of a type of continuity involving consciousness that transcends a single birth and death—a belief built on premises that a strict materialist would reject, and with little from an empirical, scientific standpoint to back them up.

I'm comfortable with that, however, because my ethical-spiritual beliefs and practice are ultimately pragmatic, serving a practical purpose that's subjectively beneficial regardless of their objective validity. Incidentally, this is why I tend to have sympathy for theists, even though I don't have any theistic beliefs myself. While I find too many logical inconsistencies in the Bible to view it as the infallible word of God, there are some interesting philosophical arguments for the existence of God (although, not necessarily a personal God); and I understand that a belief in God can provide comfort in difficult times, as well as serve as the basis for a beneficial ethical-spiritual practice, just as my Buddhist beliefs can. I also accept that certain people may have had some kind of profound spiritual experience that has led them to such a belief.

What I generally don't accept, however, are dogmatic statements about absolute truth and/or reality, especially when they stem from an 'appeal to authority' or personal experience. In the former, the validity of a statement rests not on its own logical coherence or truth, but on the supposed status of the source as an 'authority.' In the latter's case, there's generally no way to confirm or deny them, so they're not very useful in proving something to someone who hasn't had them.

buddhism: short and sweet

With so many teachings, trying to sum up Buddhism in a couple of sentences can seem like a daunting challenge, but it's actually quite simple: Buddhism is all about the pursuit of true happiness.

The Buddha approaches the problem of mental stress and suffering like a doctor, formulating the four noble truths in the same way that ancient Indian physicians formulated medical diagnoses, i.e., disease (stress), cause (craving), prognosis (a cure/cessation of craving is possible) and treatment (the noble eightfold path).

While it may sound overly simplistic, the basic premise of the path can be summed up by this short passage from the Dhammapada:

The non-doing of any evil, the performance of what's skillful, the cleansing of one's own mind: this is the teaching of the Awakened.

Ultimately, every teaching in Buddhism is a tool to be used in the pursuit of happiness, and the majority of them focus on our actions and intentions because that's where the real work of moral and spiritual purification takes place (e.g., MN 61). The road to hell happiness is paved with good intentions.

Happiness. It really is just that simple. That's why, in Buddhism, wisdom begins by asking the following questions:

What is skillful, venerable sir? What is unskillful? What is blameworthy? What is blameless? What should be cultivated? What should not be cultivated? What, having been done by me, will be for my long-term harm & suffering? Or what, having been done by me, will be for my long-term welfare & happiness?

vinnanasota

Contrary to what many believe, there are places in the Canon where the term vinnanasota (stream of consciousness) is mentioned. Unlike the term patisandhi-citta (re-linking consciousness), which is only found in the later commentarial literature, vinnanasota can be found in places like DN 28:

Puna caparaṃ, bhante, idhekacco samaṇo vā brāhmaṇo vā ātappamanvāya…pe… tathārūpaṃ cetosamādhiṃ phusati, yathāsamāhite citte imameva kāyaṃ uddhaṃ pādatalā adho kesamatthakā tacapariyantaṃ pūraṃ nānappakārassa asucino paccavekkhati – ‘atthi imasmiṃ kāye kesā lomā…pe… lasikā mutta’nti. Atikkamma ca purisassa chavimaṃsalohitaṃ aṭṭhiṃ paccavekkhati. Purisassa ca viññāṇasotaṃ pajānāti, ubhayato abbocchinnaṃ idha loke appatiṭṭhitañca paraloke appatiṭṭhitañca. Ayaṃ catutthā dassanasamāpatti. Etadānuttariyaṃ, bhante, dassanasamāpattīsu.

Puna caparaṃ, bhante, idhekacco samaṇo vā brāhmaṇo vā ātappamanvāya…pe… tathārūpaṃ cetosamādhiṃ phusati, yathāsamāhite citte imameva kāyaṃ uddhaṃ pādatalā adho kesamatthakā tacapariyantaṃ pūraṃ nānappakārassa asucino paccavekkhati – ‘atthi imasmiṃ kāye kesā lomā…pe… lasikā mutta’nti. Atikkamma ca purisassa chavimaṃsalohitaṃ aṭṭhiṃ paccavekkhati. Purisassa ca viññāṇasotaṃ pajānāti, ubhayato abbocchinnaṃ idha loke patiṭṭhitañca paraloke patiṭṭhitañca. Ayaṃ tatiyā dassanasamāpatti.

Nevertheless, instead of referring to a permanent, unbroken phenomena of consciousness (i.e., consciousness as a static thing or self), as critics of this term often charge, my understanding is that it's simply referring the flow of conscious events or experience, even when presented within the context of rebirth as traditionally understood in Theravada, which is described in terms of moments of consciousness arising and ceasing in rapid succession, with the last consciousness of a being at the time of death immediately conditions the arising of a new consciousness due to the presence of craving (tahna).

It should be noted, however, that the description of moments of consciousness arising and ceasing in rapid succession isn't explicitly found in the Suttas themselves. It's mainly found in the Abhidhamma Pitaka, as well as in post-canonical material like the Vimuttimagga and the Abhidhammattha Sangaha, and is closely associated with the theory of momentariness (khanavada). But the general principle is extrapolated from sources like AN 3.47:

Monks, these three are fabricated characteristics of what is fabricated. Which three? Arising is discernible, passing away is discernible, alteration (literally, other-ness) while staying is discernible.

Or, an alternate translation courtesy of Dhammanando Bhikkhu:

There are, bhikkhus, these three conditioned characteristics of the conditioned. Which three? Arising is manifest. Disappearance is manifest. The changing of what persists is manifest. These, bhikkhus, are the three conditioned characteristics of the conditioned.

Nm 2.4:

Life, personhood, pleasure and pain
- This is all that's bound together
In a single mental event
- A moment that quickly takes place.

Even for the devas who endure
For 84,000 thousand kalpas
- Even those do not live the same
For any two moments of the mind.

What ceases for one who is dead,
Or for one who's still standing here,
Are all just the same heaps
- Gone, never to connect again.

The states which are vanishing now,
And those which will vanish some day,
Have characteristics no different
Than those which have vanished before.

With no production there's no birth;
With "becoming" present, one exists.
When grasped with the highest meaning,
The world is dead when the mind stops.

There's no hoarding what has vanished,
No piling up for the future;
Those who have been born are standing
Like a seed upon a needle.

The vanishing of all these states
That have become is not welcome,
Though dissolving phenomena stand
Uncombined through primordial time.

From the unseen, things come and go.
Glimpsed only as they're passing by;
Like lightning flashing in the sky
- They arise and then pass away.

And probably even SN 12.61:

It would be better for the uninstructed run-of-the-mill person to hold to the body composed of the four great elements, rather than the mind, as the self. Why is that? Because this body composed of the four great elements is seen standing for a year, two years, three, four, five, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, a hundred years or more. But what's called 'mind,' 'intellect,' or 'consciousness' by day and by night arises as one thing and ceases as another. Just as a monkey, swinging through a forest wilderness, grabs a branch. Letting go of it, it grabs another branch. Letting go of that, it grabs another one.

From the Theravadin point of view, these mind-moments or moments of consciousness aren't seen as fixed or static entities but conditioned phenomena (i.e., they don't arise on their own or in a vacuum), which, due to the logical implications of anicca (inconstancy) and anatta (not-self), is a position Theravada is forced to reject. Hence, the idea of discrete phenomenal objects is replaced by the theory of momentariness, exchanging things for events, wherein one moment of consciousness arises, persists/changes and ceases in a complex, self-sustaining causal chain, with each event a result as well as a cause in that chain.

Moreover, if you admit the possibility of immaterial causes and not just material ones (assuming that a clear distinction between the two can even be made at a fundamental), then the continuation of said process isn't necessarily limited by or to a single material body. It's a theory of events that allows for continuity without the need for fixed and static elements or self, and is a natural outcome of deconstructing conscious experience into its constituent events.

In one essay, Bhikkhu Nanajivako presents some interesting comparisons between the Buddhist theory of anicca and modern philosophy, especially the similarities between the Buddhist theory of momentariness and some of things Bertrand Russell writes in An Outline of Philosophy:

Now, let us get a few quotations from Bertrand Russell. First, as regards substance-matter, he says:

In former days, you could believe it on a philosophical ground that the soul is a substance and all substances are indestructible... But the notion of substance, in the sense of a permanent entity with changing states, is no longer applicable to the world.

A wave in the sea persists for a longer or shorter time: the waves that I see dashing themselves to pieces on the Cornish coast may have come all the way from Brazil, but that does not mean that a "thing" has traveled across the Atlantic; it means only that a certain process of change has traveled.

[Einstein's theory of relativity] has philosophical consequences which are, if possible, even more important. The substitution of space-time for space and time has made the category of substance less applicable than formerly, since the essence of substance was persistent through time, and there is now no one cosmic time.

We found that matter, in modern science, has lost its solidity and substantiality; it has become a mere ghost haunting the scenes of its former splendor... The notion of matter, in modern physics, has become absorbed into the notion of energy.

We cannot say that "matter is the cause of our sensations."... In a word, "matter" has become no more than a conventional shorthand for stating causal laws concerning events.

Thus we are committed to causation as an a priori belief without which we should have no reason for supposing that there is a "real" chair (or any thing) at all.

Next, as regards the theory of events, we note that the idea of fixed and static elements of "matter" has been replaced by that of undeterminable "events" corresponding to the quantum electrodynamic field theory in nuclear physics, which comes very close to the conception of a non-physical but purely phenomenological idea of dhammaa, implied in its primitive significance by kha.nika-vaado, or theory of momentariness, of the Abhidhamma-pi.takam. (This latter aspect, explicitly philosophical, will be sketched in Five, below.) Of this Russell writes:

Everything in the world is composed of "events."... An "event" is something occupying a small finite amount of space-time... Events are not impenetrable, as matter is supposed to be; on the contrary, every event in space-time is overlapped by other events.

I assume that every event is contemporaneous with events that are not contemporaneous with each other; this is what is meant by saying that every event lasts for a finite time... Time is wholly relational.

Space-time order, as well as space-time points, results from the relations between events.

Compare with this last statement, and with those that follow, the assertion of Buddhaghosa in Atthasaalini: "By time the sage described the mind, and by mind described the time."

Lastly, Russell says of mental events:

An important group of events, namely percepts, may be called "mental."

Mentality is an affair of causal laws, not of the quality of single events, and also, mentality is a matter of degree.

What is mind?... Mind must be a group of mental events, since we have rejected the view that it is a single simple entity such as the ego was formerly supposed to be... Its constitution corresponds however to "the unity of one 'experience.'"

As a result of these considerations, Russell concludes that "first of all, you must cut out the word 'I': the person who believes is an inference, not a part of what you know immediately."

In essence, moments of consciousness arising and passing away in succession simply implies that there's a type of continuity involved in conscious experience, nothing more. So when talking about a 'stream of consciousness,' it shouldn't be understood as a singular, discrete phenomenon, but a series of conditioned events that share a particular causal relationship. The same applies to terms like bhavangasota (stream of becoming), found in Snp 3.12, and samvattanikamvinnanam (evolving consciousness), found in MN 106. For example, from Piyadassi Thera's book, Dependent Origination:

In the Aneñjasappāya Sutta, the vipāka viññaṇa is referred to as saṃvattanikaṃ viññāṇaṃ, the consciousness that links on, that proceeds in one life as vipāka from the kamma in the former life.

When it is said, "the consciousness that links on," it does not mean that this consciousness abides unchanged, continues in the same state without perishing throughout this cycle of existence. Consciousness is also conditioned, and therefore is not permanent. Consciousness also comes into being and passes away yielding place to new consciousness. Thus this perpetual stream of consciousness goes on until existence ceases. Existence in a way is consciousness. In the absence of consciousness no “being” exists in this sentient world.

And besides Piyadassi Thera, who comes from a more traditional Theravada background, people like Prof. Gombrich, scholar of Pali and Sanskrit, founder of the Oxford Centre for Buddhist Studies and past president of the Pali Text Society, and Prof. Kalupahana, Buddhist scholar and professor philosophy at the University of Hawaii, are also aware of this term and express a similar understanding of it. For example, from Gombrich's What the Buddha Thought:

Famously, the Buddha's approach to life's problems was pragmatic. Our problems are urgent, and irrelevant theorizing is a silly as refusing to receive treatment for an arrow wound until you know the name of the man who shot the arrow. Today we see the world as in perpetual motion, and that reminds people of the Buddhist principle of impermanence. True, the Buddha saw our experience as an ever-changing process, a stream of consciousness — the literal Pali equivalent of that expression does occur. But we are talking physics, whereas the Buddha was talking psychology. (67)

And from Kalupahana's Buddhist Philosophy, A Historical Analysis:

All this is evidence that it is consciousness that serves as a connecting link between two lives, and this, of course is unequivocally stated in the early Buddhist texts. Several times it is mentioned that a person who has developed extrasensory perception is able "to perceive a man's unbroken flux of consciousness established both in this world and in the next." This stream of consciousness (vinnanasota) is the same as the stream of becoming (bhavasota) mentioned often in the early discourses.

It is important to note that in the early texts there is no mention of this consciousness surviving even for a moment without the support of a psychophysical personality. In other words, early Buddhism does not contribute to a theory of disembodied existence. (52)

Another controversial yet semi-related concept found in both Mahayana and Theravada is the idea of a subconsciousness and/or storehouse consciousness. While technically a type of mind consciousness (mano-vinnana), this particular aspect of consciousness is often presented separately, and mainly posited to account for the times when active consciousness lapses, e.g., during deep sleep.

This type of consciousness, called bhavanga-citta in Theravada and alaya-vijnana in Mahayana, is often used to account for the continuity of individuals, especially over multiple lifetimes. In one essay, Walpola Rahula attempts to show that the three layers of mind as presented by Asanga have their origins in the Pali Canon:

Thus we can see that vijnana represents the simple reaction or response of the sense-organs when they come in contact with external objects. This is the uppermost or superficial aspect or layer of the vijnanaskandha. Manas represents the aspect of its mental functioning, thinking, reasoning, conceiving ideas, etc. Citta, which is here called alayavijnana, represents the deepest, finest and subtlest aspect or layer of the Aggregate of Consciousness. It contains all the traces or impressions of the past actions and all good and bad future potentialities. The Sandhinirmocana-sutra also says that alayavijnana is called citta (Tibetan sems).

It is generally believed that alayavijnana is purely a Mahayana doctrine and that nothing about it is found in Hinayana. But in the Mahayanasangraha, Asanga himself says that in the Sravakayana (= Hinayana) it is mentioned by synonyms (paryaya) and refers to a passage in the Ekottaragama which reads: 'People (praja) like the alaya (alayarata), are fond of the alaya (alayarama), are delighted in the alaya (alayasammudita), are attached to the alaya (alayabhirata). When the Dharma is preached for the destruction of the alaya, they wish to listen (susrusanti) and lend their ears (srotram avadadhanti), they put forth a will for the perfect knowledge (ajnacittam upasthapayanti) and follow the path of Truth (dharmanudharma-pratipanna). When the Tathagata appears in the world (pradurbhava), this marvellous (ascarya) and extraordinary (adbhuta) Dharma appears in the world.'

Lamotte identifies this Ekottaragama passage with the following passage in the Pali Anguttaranikaya (A II, p.131): Alayarama bhikkhave paja alayarata alayasammudita, sa Tathagatena analaye dhamme desiyamane sussuyati sotam odahati annacittam upattapeti. Tathagatassa bhikkhave arahato sammasambuddhassa patubhava ayam pathamo acchariyo abbhuto dhammo patubhavati.

Of course, the majority of the above should be understood as much later elaborations based on terms and ideas found within the early discourses, and shouldn't simply be accepted as reflecting the Buddha's teachings in the early discourses themselves. It's always good to challenge these ideas and see if there are areas where they conflict with the Suttas and with our own experience. That's the approach the Buddha himself advises in places like AN 3.65 and MN 38, with passages like:

"Bhikkhus, you who know thus and see thus, would you say: 'We have reverence for the Teacher. We say it out of reverence to the Teacher'?" "No, venerable sir." "Bhikkhus, you who know thus and see thus, would you say: 'Our recluse said it, these are the recluse’s words. But we do not say that'?" "No, venerable sir." "Bhikkhus, you who know thus and see thus, would you acknowledge another teacher?" "No, venerable sir." "Bhikkhus, you who know thus and see thus, would you seek meaning in religious rites, ceremonies or festivals of other recluses and brahmins?" "No, venerable sir." "Bhikkhus, is it that you yourself knowing, seeing and experiencing this speak thus?" "Yes, venerable sir."

"Good, O, Bhikkhus, I have led you in this Dhamma which is visible here and now, timeless, open to inspection, leading onwards and to be experienced by the wise for themselves. It was in reference to this that it was said: 'Bhikkhus, this Dhamma is visible here and now, timeless, open to inspection, leading onwards and to be experienced by the wise for themselves'."

not-self and awakening

While I'm not a qualified teacher, or even an experienced meditator, I don't agree with those who say the Buddha's position was that one can't actively develop mindfulness, concentration and wisdom; that, ultimately, there's no control in the present moment. In fact, it seems to me that the Buddha did indeed encourage his followers to develop just these things.

To begin with, the Buddha taught that whatever is inconstant (anicca) is stressful (dukkha), and whatever is stressful is not-self (anatta). The goal of Buddhism is to essentially take this analytical knowledge, along with a specific set of practices, as a stepping stone to what I can only describe as a profound psychological event in the mind. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean that I believe the teachings on not-self are understood to deny individuality (MN 22) as well as individual effort (attakara), far from it.

I believe that their intended purpose is to merely point out the ultimately unsatisfactory nature of the psycho-physical entity consisting of form, feeling, perception, consciousness and mental fabrications in a variety of ways, as well as the insubstantiality of our ego that's built upon these five, fleeting phenomena, not to suggest that mindfulness, concentration and wisdom can't actively be developed.

Even though we have no real control over the unsatisfactory and inconstant nature of our existence – and this is evident by the fact that we cannot say, "Let my body be thus, Let my body not be thus. Let my feelings ... perceptions ... mental processes ... consciousness be thus. Let my my feelings ... perceptions ... mental processes ... consciousness not be thus" (SN 22.59) – if you try to move your arm, your arm still moves. In other words, don't let the teachings on not-self lead to inaction but to right action.

The way I see it, craving is the cause of suffering, and to end suffering its cause must be removed; the difficulty arises when it comes to how exactly this is done. My theory is that craving is a very subtle but powerful aspect of our psychology. It's there, latent in the mind, waiting to exert its influence through mental fabrications by directing or at the very least encouraging the mind to feed upon sensory experiences via the five clinging-aggregates in an unhealthy way.

The problem is that these processes of subtle movement in the mind are so subtle that they're almost impossible to discern as they're taking place. That's where I believe meditation comes in; meditation helps to calm and still the mind so that these mental events become easier and easier to observe. One, in effect, uses conditionality in order to fabricate controlled states of mental absorption until they're able to discern the presence of craving, its movement in the mind, and the fact that even these refined and subtle states of mental absorption are ultimately stressful and unsatisfactory.

This leads one to develop dispassion, and dispassion leads one to cease fabrication, thus opening the doors to the deathless by ending the psychological chain of causation that gives rise to suffering. Therefore, my suggestion to someone serious about their practice would be to stick with whatever method of meditation they find to be more conducive to attaining states of mental absorption, and supplement that with a moderate amount of study to strengthen right view.

buddhism and politics (expanded)

As a Buddhist, I do my best to apply Buddhist teachings and practices to all aspects of my life, including my political activism. This, of course, raises some questions, such as, What sort of political philosophy is most compatible with Buddhism? and Does Buddhism support radical political views? As a Buddhist who also happens to be democratic socialist, I'd like to say yes; but the teachings of the Buddha that are recorded in the Pali Canon are more or less apolitical, so applying them to my political philosophy requires a bit more investigation and thought.

The Buddha doesn't explicitly promote a particular political philosophy, being more concerned with problems of ethics and phenomenology. But he does give some pragmatic advice to lay-followers within the existing political economic system of the time, mainly dealing with generosity, honesty and fulfilling one's duties in society (e.g., DN 31). So in answer to the first, I'd say that Buddhism itself is compatible with pretty much any political-economic system as it predominately deals with developing virtue, concentration and discernment within whatever worldly circumstances we’re confronted with, not the circumstances themselves.

Moreover, I agree with Richard Gombrich that, "The Buddha's Dhamma represents a strong form of what has been called 'religious individualism'" (Theravada Buddhism, 72). I say this because the teachings on kamma (literally 'action') focus on individual actions and their consequences, and not so much collective or societal actions. So Buddhist virtue ethics are generally seen as a personal matter that each individual is encouraged to explore and develop on their own.

As for the second question, there's nothing in the Suttas to suggest that the Buddha was either for or against private ownership of the means of production, especially in the modern industrial sense. That's not a question anybody could have foreseen 2,600 years ago.

Furthermore, while it's true the Buddha encouraged generosity among his lay-followers, and that his monastic community has a relatively egalitarian communal structure, his teachings were also quite popular with the rising mercantile class in India at that time, and many of his wealthier lay-followers were merchants. In fact, I think the Buddha's advice to the lay-community regarding livelihood sounds more like some kind of enlightened entrepreneurialism than socialism.

In DN 31, for example, the Buddha advises lay-followers to use a portion of their income for personal use, including charitable donations, but he also advises that some of it should be used for business investments and saved for hard times, as well. This shows that the Buddha wasn't necessarily against consumption, private property rights and/or the accumulation of wealth, but there are suttas which seem to suggest that he was at least in favour of some type of welfare-state.

There's the case of DN 5, for example, where the brahmin Kutadanta asks the Buddha for advice on how to best conduct a great sacrifice. Kutadanta, who was evidently wealthy, had been given a village and some land by King Bimbisara, which he ruled as a king himself. On being asked by Kutadanta — who had a legion of animals waiting to be slaughtered — how to perform a great sacrifice, the Buddha answered with a fable about a great king who asks his chaplain a similar question.

Long story short, the king (i.e., the state), who'd amassed great personal wealth but whose kingdom was "beset by thieves" and "infested with brigands," is told by his chaplain that taxing the people, executing and imprisoning them, or simply banishing them from the land won't solve his kingdom's problems, and is given this advice:

To those in the kingdom who are engaged in cultivating crops and raising cattle, let Your Majesty distribute grain and fodder; to those in trade, give capital; to those in government service assign proper living wages. Then those people, being intent on their occupations, will not harm the kingdom. Your Majesty's revenues will be great, the land will be tranquil and not beset by thieves, and the people, with joy in their hearts, will play with their children, and will dwell in open houses.

Nevertheless, I don't think that the Buddha would object to a more egalitarian, socialist society that tries to limit the economic and societal conditions which foster things like greed and violence, and the way Buddhism has affected me personally has lead me to adopt more socialist-leaning views. As Albert Einstein put it, "the real purpose of socialism is... to overcome and advance beyond the predatory phase of human development," and I have a hard time not getting involved when I see what I perceive to be people being preyed upon by greed, hatred and delusion.

Before I became interested in Buddhism, I didn't really have any political-economic views to speak of. In fact, I was completely uninterested in political economy whatsoever. After years of studying and practicing Buddhism, however, I began to take more of an interest. This was partially due to cultivating compassion and being more sensitive the suffering of others.

Of course, it became clear to me early on that the world was imperfect, and that there is, and always been, suffering in the world. I also realized that it can't be 'fixed,' that there are no perfect solutions. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try our best to do what we can to make things better, and that's certainly compatible with Buddhism and Buddhist ethics in general. But more specifically, I think that the seemingly unrelated aims of communism/socialism and Buddhism are actually quite compatible, even in the sense that Karl Marx uses it, i.e. the doctrine of the conditions of the liberation of the working class. For example, in The German Ideology, Marx writes:

Further, the division of labour implies the contradiction between the interest of the separate individual or the individual family and the communal interest of all individuals who have intercourse with one another. And indeed, this communal interest does not exist merely in the imagination, as the “general interest,” but first of all in reality, as the mutual interdependence of the individuals among whom the labour is divided. And finally, the division of labour offers us the first example of how, as long as man remains in natural society, that is, as long as a cleavage exists between the particular and the common interest, as long, therefore, as activity is not voluntarily, but naturally, divided, man’s own deed becomes an alien power opposed to him, which enslaves him instead of being controlled by him. For as soon as the distribution of labour comes into being, each man has a particular, exclusive sphere of activity, which is forced upon him and from which he cannot escape. He is a hunter, a fisherman, a herdsman, or a critical critic, and must remain so if he does not want to lose his means of livelihood; while in communist society, where nobody has one exclusive sphere of activity but each can become accomplished in any branch he wishes, society regulates the general production and thus makes it possible for me to do one thing today and another tomorrow, to hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticise after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, herdsman or critic. This fixation of social activity, this consolidation of what we ourselves produce into an objective power above us, growing out of our control, thwarting our expectations, bringing to naught our calculations, is one of the chief factors in historical development up till now.

One of the things that I really find interesting in Marx's writings is his materialist conception of history and the idea that "the nature of individuals depends on the material conditions determining their production." While Marx's theory was set within a specific context — that of the complex relationship between the production and reproduction of material requirements of life and the historical development of human society — I think it has much wider implications.

For example, I'm of the opinion that things such as identity are conditioned, at least in part, by the historical and material conditions that we find ourselves in, and that changes in those conditions can fundamentally alter our identity and the ways in which we express ourselves, and vice versa. Not in a rigidly deterministic way, however, but in a complex and symbiotic way.

This idea isn't necessarily new, of course. The Buddha, for example, developed similar ideas about identity in his teachings on kamma and dependent co-arising. In short, he viewed our sense of self as a continuous process—something which is always in flux, ever-changing from moment to moment in response to various internal and external stimuli. Furthermore, he observed that there are times when, due to the presence of clinging, our sense of self, those momentary and fleeting identities and the objects of our sensory experience on which they're based, cause us a great deal of stress and suffering.

But whereas the Buddha's focus was primarily on how to liberate the individual from their suffering by mastering this process of 'I-making' and 'my-making,' Marx's focus, the bodhisattva that he was, was primarily on how to liberate society from their suffering and alienation by changing the material conditions that support it. In the words of Erich Fromm, "His concept of socialism is the emancipation from alienation, the return of man to himself, his self-realization."

According to Marx, all individuals in capitalist society are essentially alienated, from their labour as well as from each other. The reason Marx singled out the working class was because he saw in the working class the means by which capitalism could be transformed. It was his hope, however, that once this economic transformation was underway, the alienation of each individual would gradual be eliminated via a more socialized means of production, which, in turn, would sow the seeds for the "resolution of the antagonism between man and nature, and between man and man." As the 'young' Marx wrote in Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844:

[T]he emancipation of society from private property, from servitude, takes the political form of the emancipation of the workers; not in the sense that only the latter's emancipation is involved, but because this emancipation includes the emancipation of humanity as a whole. For all human servitude is involved in the relation of the worker to production, and all types of servitude are only modifications or consequences of this relation.

Of course, I disagree with some of Marx's ideas and methods, but I still find a lot of his writings worth reading. Hell, even the Dalai Lama once said:

Of all the modern economic theories, the economic system of Marxism is founded on moral principles, while capitalism is concerned only with gain and profitability. Marxism is concerned with the distribution of wealth on an equal basis and the equitable utilization of the means of production. It is also concerned with the fate of the working classes--that is, the majority--as well as with the fate of those who are underprivileged and in need, and Marxism cares about the victims of minority-imposed exploitation. For those reasons the system appeals to me, and it seems fair. I just recently read an article in a paper where His Holiness the Pope also pointed out some positive aspects of Marxism.

As for the failure of the Marxist regimes, first of all I do not consider the former USSR, or China, or even Vietnam, to have been true Marxist regimes, for they were far more concerned with their narrow national interests than with the Workers' International; this is why there were conflicts, for example, between China and the USSR, or between China and Vietnam. If those three regimes had truly been based upon Marxist principles, those conflicts would never have occurred.

I think the major flaw of the Marxist regimes is that they have placed too much emphasis on the need to destroy the ruling class, on class struggle, and this causes them to encourage hatred and to neglect compassion. Although their initial aim might have been to serve the cause of the majority, when they try to implement it all their energy is deflected into destructive activities. Once the revolution is over and the ruling class is destroyed, there is [not] much left to offer the people; at this point the entire country is impoverished and unfortunately it is almost as if the initial aim were to become poor. I think that this is due to the lack of human solidarity and compassion. The principal disadvantage of such a regime is the insistence placed on hatred to the detriment of compassion.

The failure of the regime in the former Soviet Union was, for me, not the failure of Marxism but the failure of totalitarianism. For this reason I still think of myself as half-Marxist, half-Buddhist.

So, in the end, even though Buddhism is essentially apolitical in nature, I think that one can easily synthesize their political beliefs, even radical ones, with their Buddhist practice as long as they're able to do so based upon the principle of ahimsa or harmlessness, along with a healthy dose of compassion and loving-kindness.

is buddhism just an offshoot of hinduism?

I've often heard it said that Buddhism is simply an offshoot of Hinduism, but is there any truth to that claim? I'd argue no. While they both come from the same region and share similar terminology, making them a part of a larger tradition of Indian thought and philosophy spanning thousands of years, their connection isn't as one-sided as many assume.

To begin with, from what I understand, Hinduism is a relatively modern term (coined by the British if memory serves me right) that's used to describe a diverse collection of Indian spiritual traditions, many of which arose after the Buddha's lifetime. Much of the Mahabharata, including the Bhagavad Gita, for example, was most likely composed after the Buddha's lifetime, as was the Ramayana and the majority of the Puranas. In fact, I think it's fair to say that Buddhism actually influenced much of what we call 'Hinduism' today.

For example, it should be noted that the concept of anatman in Sankara's version of Advaita Vedanta is similar to the Buddhist anatta, being derived from it. In one of his commentaries, Sankara writes, "Whenever we deny something unreal, we do so with reference to something real; the unreal snake, e.g. is negatived with reference to the real rope." Sankara essentially used the notion of anatman to deny the reality of the individual self (atman) in favour of Brahman. Many of Sankara's critics actually accused him of being a Buddhist in disguise.

The Buddha, who was born into the khattiya (warrior) caste, was one of the great wandering ascetics (Pali: samana, Skt: shramana) who taught in the later Vedic Period, and whose teachings were considered heterodox because they rejected the authority of the Vedas, the self (atman) of the early Upanishads, and the four main social classes (varna).

The most prominent 'orthodox' tradition in northern India at that time was Brahmanism, which, of course, relied heavily on the Vedas for their religious authority, and included some of the early Upanishads as well. It's clear from the Suttas that the Buddha was extremely familiar with them, but it's unclear as to precisely how he acquired this knowledge. Being from a prominent family, it's possible that he studied them, or it could be that he learned of them while wandering and debating with other religious teachers.

In any case, while many people think of the the Buddha as a reformer of Brahmanism, I think it's more correct to say that he replaced it with his own unique philosophy, often redefining many of the key philosophical terms and concepts of his contemporaries, giving them his own meaning and context. This is clearly documented with a variety of words such as brahmin and kamma.

The Buddha was also an expert at word play, especially puns (which don't always translate well into English), and many of these were in reference to passages from the Vedas and Upanishads. Much of this was apparently lost on later Buddhist commentators, but has since been rediscovered by modern scholarship and textual analysis. Nevertheless, the Buddha wasn't limited to just puns, and he added his own unique ideas to Indian thought, e.g., his introduction of khandha as a technical philosophical term (and possibly nibbana as well). Moreover, in The Place of Buddhism in Indian Thought, Ananda Guruge writes:

Lastly, the contributions to Indian thought made by the Buddha should be carefully borne in mind. It was no doubt the Buddha's admirable sense of humility, which led to his statement that he was not an original thinker. His theory of Dependent Causation or Origination was the most remarkable contribution to Indian thought. It is unique in the history of philosophy.

So, in the end, I think it's safe to say that both Buddhism and Hinduism are closely related and have a lot in common, but I definitely wouldn't go so far as to say that Buddhism is just an offshoot of Hinduism. I think doing so is not only inaccurate, but does a disservice to both in that it denies their individual achievements in the history and progression of Indian thought.