Showing posts with label ethics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ethics. Show all posts

Thursday, 15 September 2016

Why a Buddhist Would Dig Ani Difranco

Distracted by technology and propaganda, unable to relate to the human condition and nature, who are we today? Ask feminist icon and activist Ani DiFrancno. In an upcoming album release, we look forward to the rest of the songs that share good company with “Binary”. This Buddhist is digging the message.

Her description of consciousness as “binary” and “spinning” reminds me of electrons and the Buddhist idea that nothing is truly separate from anything else. I only relate this because the Tao of Physics is what got me interested in Buddhism in the first place.



This song encourages to “complete the circuit”. This also involves progressive and engaged Buddhism by getting up the face of those who propagate the mythology of separateness by oppression and greed.


Here is her video of the song from the 30A Songwriter's Festival. Thanks, Linda Fahey, for introducing us to this on NPR. *explicit lyrics








Monday, 3 May 2010

Was the Buddha Guided by Evil?

(as posted at American Buddhist Perspective)
Or "Don't kick the baby!"

I found myself very happily re-submerged in philosophy today thanks to the excellent and argumentative work of Charles Goodman's Consequences of Compassion, a book on Buddhist Ethics. I love the book because it's well-written, well-argued, and highly readable for scholars and non. I highly recommend it and will be writing more about it in the coming weeks.

I think he's wrong, of course, because he's a consequentialist and thinks Buddhism is too. But more on that another time.

For now I want to switch topics and books a bit. Reading Goodman forces you to reexamine the foundations of ethical thinking (bravo!). So I cracked open another book, Deontology, edited by Stephen Darwall. In it we find a chapter on "Agent Relativity and Deontology" from Thomas Nagel's book The View From Nowhere.

In that chapter, Nagel presents us with a thought experiment. (paraphrased):
You and some chums are on a backroad in Montana at night (thus alone). You crash. Your friends are in bad shape. You run along the road until you reach the only house for miles. Inside is an old lady taking care of a child. You plea for help but she freaks out and locks herself in the bathroom, leaving you alone with the baby. There is no phone in the house (yea, that's Montana for ya), but there is a car outside that you could use to go get help. You just need the keys. You realize that you might get her to help you if you harm the baby (just a little) outside the bathroom door. Should you do it?
You just need to cause the baby a little pain, enough to get him/her to cry, and in the end you'll be able to help your friends. To a consequentialist it seems to be a no-brainer. Of course you kick the baby (softly)!  It's just a tiny bit of pain and your friends are relying on you - suffering much, much more. It's the right thing to do.

But the thing is, for most of us, there's just something wrong with that. There is an intuition that makes our gut turn a bit at the thought of harming an innocent person, even if it relieves much more pain for others. If that intuition is strong in you, you're likely to fall on the deontological side of the fence and say, "no, I'm not gonna kick the baby" even if it means further delay and suffering for your friends.

Darwall, earlier in the book, gives another experiment. We all generally agree that betraying our friends is wrong. A consequentialist might argue that this is because fidelity leads to a good society and happy people. A deontologist sees something intrinsic to the nature of friendship and honesty that in itself demands our fidelity. Darwall asks us to imagine a situation where you know two people will soon betray their best friends. Suppose that you know that if you betray your best friend, these two people will be so horrified that they won't go forward with their betrayals. Given the option, would you choose to betray your best friend?

The net effect if you act is fewer betrayals, so a consequentialist would urge you to betray your friend. (Note, there are as many flavors of consequentialism as Baskin Robbins has ice cream; I'm only dealing here with the bare-bones "the morally right thing to do is that which gets the best consequences" version.)

We could take it a notch further and suppose that you knew that your best friend actually was about to betray someone herself! So now you are to betray a friend who is about to betray someone else. Does that feel a bit better? Now we're not so much dealing with an "innocent" person. But for a deontologist this still doesn't seem right. We have a duty to fidelity based on our relationship to this person. We should not betray her even if that is the only way to avert multiple betrayals.

For Nagel, to betray our friend or kick the baby is to intentionally cause harm (evil), and in his words to "aim at evil, even as a means, is to have one's action guided by evil."

What do you think? And do you see where I'm going with this?

There is a key Mahāyāna text, the Upāya-kauśalya Sūtra, (see Tatz) in which the Buddha is faced with a much more daunting situation. Here, in a past life and thus a Bodhisattva, he is a sea captain who discovers that a robber is on his boat that will kill his 500 passengers and steal their goods. If the robber does this, not only will 500 merchants lose their lives, but the robber will end up in hell for a long, long (x 84000) time. He could alert the merchants, but then they'd kill the robber and reap bad karma themselves. His best option, it seems, is to kill the robber himself.

Hold it there.

A consequentialist reading would not only fully agree with the Bodhisattva's reasoning here, but would find him fully justified in killing the robber. For a consequentialist, murdering the robber would be doing the right thing.

A deontologist would disagree. Murder is right at the top of the list of morality's no-no's. Even to murder a would-be murderer is still, well, murder. Now, just as there are many flavors of consequentialism that allow certain rules and whatnot into the system, a deontologist can just as well occasionally allow overriding circumstances in which doing the wrong thing may be necessary. Here is one such case. But it's still wrong; it is still, in Nagel's words, being "guided by evil."

Again, what do you think?

Well, the Buddha (to-be), out of "great compassion and skill in means," kills the robber.

And then? According to contemporary tellings of the story, he is born in hell - but only for a while. And the sūtra itself says that he steps on a thorn in his final life (as the Buddha) as a result of that past deed. The point in both is that he suffers the repercussions of having committed a wrongful deed. This suggests that Buddhism clearly isn't consequentialist. We can imagine a culture or religion in which the murder of the robber would have brought the Bodhissatva great glory, health, fame, and rebirths in heaven. It might take us a while, but I'm sure we can come up with some religion that says that killing a 'bad guy' is okay or praiseworthy...

But in Buddhism, even killing a bad guy is wrong. It may be necessary at times, but the karma's gonna get you. So we have in the tradition itself something of an admission that the Buddha (to-be) did something wrong, and faced the karmic results of it: a rebirth in hell and later getting a thorn in his foot.

Yes, the Buddha was guided by evil (to use Nagel's dramatic wording).

Going back to our first thought experiment, we might thus conclude that the Buddha would kick the baby if he knew this was the only way to get the keys and save his friends from the coyotes and badgers sure to be lurking along the back roads of Montana. And perhaps you should too. But it would still be wrong and there would still be moral (karmic) repercussions.

Monday, 2 November 2009

Self, No-self, Psychology and Buddhism

Ha! Thanks for that last post Shonin Justin. I just came across the same over at the Tricycle blog. I posted some comments there and then over at my blog, but figured it's good grist for the Progressive Buddhism mill as well.

In the interview, Epstein says, roughly, that the self is real, it's just not really real. Tricycle editors picked up on that in their title:

The self exists, it’s just not as real as you think.

My response(s) follow, slightly edited.
Hmmm… Is that like saying a creator God exists, it’s just not as real as you think? Sounds fishy. Perhaps skillful, but fishy nonetheless.

Sabbe dhamma anatta, all phenomena are not-self. Even nibbana is anatta. And all of samsara is associated with the 5 khandhas, which are the basis for all other dhammas. Where then, lies the self in Buddhism? (hint, next to unicorns and the creator God).

On second thought, yes, the Buddha does make wide use of the term atta as a reflexive pronoun: “nowhere is found one who is dearer than [one]self; in this way for others too the self is dear. Thus one should not harm others who loves [him/her]self.” (Nevajjhagā piyataramattanā kvaci; Evaṃ piyo puthu attā paresaṃ, Tasmā na hiṃse paramattakāmo’’ti.) fom the Mallika sutta in SN I,3 (#8). But this should be read as making an ethical point rather than a metaphysical one: you [think] you have a self, and it is dear to you; this is also true of others, so develop metta/lovingkindness for all (as you do yourself).

In this way the Buddha uses the term in a practical or conventional manner. When speaking of the true nature of things, though, the above quoted sabbe dhamma anatta, along with anatta as one of the “Marks of Existence” should suggest clearly his teaching of no-self. This is as much of a categorical denial as I can think of. He doesn’t deny the existence of the self to the wanderer Vacchagotta precisely because FOR HIM (this confused Brahmin) it would lead to a belief in annihilationism. So in that instance we have the Buddha’s silence. (SN 44:10)

As for the necessary fiction of self; yes it probably is needed at some level, but at the point of awakening we are said to finally(!) let go of the “asmi mana” the conceit or mania of I AM. I suppose as long as we have the conceit of self, it’s useful to act accordingly :)

I'm curious about the apparent streak of neo-Puggalavadins or Attavadins (those who teach that there is a person, or there is a self) in contemporary Buddhist circles. I suppose it has to do with our cultural fascination with the self: liberating it, actualizing it, helping it. If you're trying to gain self-liberation, self-actualization, or self-help you're probably off on a wild-goose chase. Much like trying to have a conversation with an omniscient, benevolent, creator God.

Check out the Sabbasava sutta. There the Buddha lists 16 unwise reflections:
1. What am I?
2. How am I?
3. Am I?
4. Am I not?
5. Did I exist in the past?
6. Did I not exist in the past?
7. What was I in the past?
8. How was I in the past?
9. Having been what, did I become what in the past?
10. Shall I exist in future?
11. Shall I not exist in future?
12. What shall I be in future?
13. How shall I be in future?
14. Having been what, shall I become what in future?
15. Whence came this person?
16. Whither will he go?
Now, as I mentioned in my first response above, any questioning into the self is thus pretty fishy. BUT, it could perhaps be skillful for some people. Just as in the Tevijja Sutta, where the Buddha tells young Brahmins that he'll teach them "the way to union with Brahma" and in fact teaches them ethics and meditation toward awakening, we perhaps could tell people we'll help them "discover their true self" only to lead them, through ethics and meditation, to the understanding of no-self. I'll leave you with one last snippit from the Pali sources (many thanks to Thanisarro Bhikkhu for compiling some Pali sources on Anatta):
“Monks, where there is a self, would there be (the thought), ‘belonging to
my self’?”
“Yes, lord.”
“Or, monks, where there is what belongs to self, would there be (the thought),
‘my self’?”
“Yes, lord.”
“Monks, where a self or what belongs to self are not pinned down as a truth
or reality, then the view-position—‘This cosmos is the self. After death this I will
be constant, permanent, eternal, not subject to change. I will stay just like that for
an eternity’—Isn’t it utterly & completely a fool’s teaching?” — MN 22
To say that this is a denial of only a certain kind of self seems to me to miss the point. It's like, to reiterate the above, saying that the Buddha only denied a certain kind of creator God, and thus perhaps there is one after all for Buddhists. Any view of self, it seems, is going to spiral into wasted time and effort trying to understand, fix, help, whatever, it (unless, again, guided by a wise teacher toward the understanding that there is no self). Similarly, views of God can be played with (as in the Tevijja sutta) by the wise, in order to bring others to an understanding of ethics, meditation, and wisdom (aka the Buddha's 3-fold path).

But in the hands of the unwise, people like me, speculation on the self or God is just likely to waste time.. how many gods can dance on the head of a pin? Oh, I'm sorry, that was angels. I'll have to speculate on that in a future post.

Sunday, 5 July 2009

Joining - a problem and a process

The very act of joining a group can bring up ethical issues.

The philosopher, Hannah Arendt coined the phrase ‘the banality of evil’ when writing about Adolf Eichmann during the Nazi war crimes trials. She said that Eichmann had followed a moral philosophy but had failed to grasp a particular point in the philosophy he claimed to adhere to - in Kant the ‘legislator’ (of right and wrong) is the moral self, Eichmann had surrendered this self and had replaced it with the dictums of Adolf Hitler - and ’just followed orders’.

When we ask to become Mitras (as distinct from Order Members which is a rather separate journey of it's own) we are warned about the ‘FWBO Files’ and we are confronted with the question ’are we joining a cult?’

In a way this does us a favour. What do we hope to achieve by ’joining’? Eichmann was a ’joiner’, Arendt observed, and he wanted to belong so badly that he joined the SS. If our goal is to have answers on a plate and to never have to think again then what we join and what the intentions of the organisation we are joining could have real consequences for ourselves and for others around us. And if that abnegation of self is our intention then do we belong in the FWBO? If not that, then what is our intention? And what people are we exposing ourselves to? After all, what if our own motives are good, and we are conscientious but we are about to surround ourselves with unquestioning followers of orders?

The strongest safety valve within this organisation, from my perspective as it stands right now, is the key role of creativity in the interpretation of the idea of the ’middle way’. this is interpreted less as a doctrine to be followed without question, and more as a way of thinking which invites us to, and ultimately requires us to, think for ourselves. Not just once, or on one occasion, when joining, but at as many subsequent occasions from thereon in that ever exist. This cultivation of awareness is more of a journey than a goal, since it can never be simply arrived at as long as we are alive, indeed, as long as we draw breath. (Incidentally, Arendt has something to offer us here. She posits an alternative view of the idea of doubt to Cartesian either/or style of doubting. Her style of doubting suggests ‘supposing this could be otherwise’ which is slightly different in texture to I believe this OR that.)

At the same meeting with the Mitra Convenor where we are told about the FWBO files we are also given a printed sheet with the five precepts, and we discuss what those precepts mean to us.

The Precepts

I undertake to abstain from taking life.
I undertake to abstain from taking the not-given.
I undertake to abstain from sexual misconduct.
I undertake to abstain from false speech.
I undertake to abstain from taking intoxicants.

The Positive Precepts

With deeds of loving kindness , I purify my body.
With open-handed generosity, I purify my body.
With stillness, simplicity and contentment, I purify my body.
With truthful communication, I purify my speech.
With mindfulness, clear and radiant, I purify my mind.

On the basis of this discussion we are invited to take part in a Mitra ceremony at which we will make offerings which symbolically honour the three jewels, the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.

So this is the short, largely symbolic journey between not being a Buddhist, and being a Buddhist. Or at least, a Mitra. Somewhere along the way we discover that this also involves Mitra Studies, which turns out to be FOUR YEARS LONG! This feels like rather a commitment.

So we begin our studies. And we discover that meditation and ritual are not the only activities that play a part in gaining insight, but that there is something, actually regarded as a practice, called ‘talking the dharma’.

In reality, this journey cannot be measured and is neither short nor long. Each individual’s experience of this initial phase of the journey will have something in common but also be in some way unique, since it requires a series of turning points in our thinking that motivates us to take those steps.

If we think of ‘life as a story’ there has to be a turning point. In fiction, this is usually a reversal of fortunes which has subsequent consequences. It must be believable that the event could happen to the character, and yet must alter the course of events initially set up in the story. Aristotle calls this ’turning point’ device ‘peripeteia’ (and in modern Greek this means ‘adventure’) so it is not surprising that so many of our own personal stories lead us to something that feels like a reversal to some of us, and it is equally unsurprising that we identify with the story of the Buddha’s own journey.

It strikes me, as I write this, that my own discomfiture at the content of the reading for term one, which draws to a close now, has been transformed by the practice of this ‘talking the Dharma’. As I read over the material I remember thinking week by week that the content was a bit badly written and weak, and that it was frustrating that it was neither a primary text nor a high culture secondary one. I suppose I wanted it to be more like ’study’. Now that I look at it again, immediately, I am drawn in, within a couple of paragraphs, because having ’talked the Dharma’ I now know something of what is meant by this rather self effacing phrase, and the weight of what is being said in the text feels more centred and real to me, rather than being ’just’ a rather long passage of writing which I was not sure of.

I would also like to go back to this idea of what is a cult, and talk a little bit about the idea of not being so heavily invested in opinion. It could appear that dropping strong opinion is the opposite of what I have said about cultivating and maintaining a strong moment by moment awareness, and yet the way that I experience it is that I am not without opinion, but now I am more interested in experience than opinion, and that actually opinion itself is a little addictive and about developing or projecting something which in this culture is highly valued - a strong personality. Meanwhile, it seems that in Buddhism
personality itself is a contested field and something to soften on rather than to build up. In what way is this not in danger of being cultish, I wonder? I think what might be helpful to ask is; What if we apply Arendt’s version of doubt and suspend our strong belief in personality and wonder if perhaps the cult of personality is not worth questioning itself?

My project, here, has been to describe something of what it is like to begin this journey. In Mitra Studies, we have had many conversations over the past ten weeks or so, some of them rambling, all of them valuable. This has been consciousness raising within a working and workable framework, and I can feel myself growing in a different way than I have done in other kinds of study.

There is an interest in sociology, in a Marxist construction called ’cultural reproduction’. It is a simple idea with extensive application, and it is relevant to the thoughts I started with here. Marx says that within any culture that is able to continue there are the means to reproduce that culture, and that this is as true in human cultural forms as it is in nature. The theorists who have talked about this have used various metaphors to describe how this works, but in short, the point is that if you create a social group where the rules are hard and fast and questioning is discouraged or punished then you create the conditions for homogeneity, or the culture of sameness, which can ultimately become fascist. Meanwhile, if you create a system within which questioning and difference can be contained as part of that system then you create conditions under which difference is as it is, (and this is called, for the sake of comparison, ‘heterogenic’ - the metaphors are borrowed from science). In either instance, the conditions for this reproduction must be maintained for that culture to be reproduced.

I suspect that I would not be as interested in Buddhism if I were not in a modernised Sangha, but as it stands, my own journey has taken me towards and into the FWBO and my experience of it has been both of gentleness and strength in a form which I am able to comprehend, respect, and grow within.

Sunday, 7 December 2008

Boiling Down Buddhism

As a philosopher and teacher of Buddhism I find myself often trying to "boil down" Buddhism in response to the question of "what is Buddhism?"

And it has occurred to me that how we answer that simple question can set the direction for a person's whole understanding of Buddhism. In the case of Buddhist Ethics (where I work) this can be easily shown with some examples:

What is Buddhism?
Damien Keown: "... Buddhism is a response to what is fundamentally an ethical problem - the perennial problem of the best kind of life for man to live." (The Nature of Buddhist Ethics, p.1)
While this seems to leave the terrain of the conversation rather open, when we look closely we see that he has not mentioned awakening, delusion, suffering, craving, or any other centrally Buddhist term. While these do come later, there also is a focus on the "best kind of life" throughout the book that lead him to see Buddhism as akin to virtue ethics.
Mark Siderits: "The Buddhist Enlightenment project is aimed at helping us overcome existential suffering, by dissolving the false assumption that there is an "I" whose life can have meaning and significance.": in this video, (5:22)
Here Buddhism is a bit different. It is a "project" focusing on 1) existential suffering and 2) the "conceit I-am" (Pali: asmi-mana) that the Buddha posited as the central cause of suffering. Siderits takes the focusing on non-self and suffering toward a very utilitarian reading of Buddhist Ethics.
Alan Sponberg: "Just let go." (from a talk given at the local - Missoula, MT - FWBO seven or eight years ago)
It's not difficult to see the appeal, nor the historical accuracy, of such a boiling-down of Buddhism. Dr. Sponberg's Dharma name happens to be Saramati, meaning roughly "he who gets to the pith of things." Interestingly, Sponberg is the only of the three that has managed to retire from teaching to live a life dedicated to his practice.

Through this meandering post comes a question: how would you boil down Buddhism? What aspect(s) of the Dharma are most pressing in your life and practice? What do you think your boiled down version of Buddhism says about you and the Buddhism you practice?