Maybe there’s a better way to start a conversation than to open with controversy, but since Buddhism draws its vitality from being a counter-culture movement, I’ll pick up on John Horgan’s brooding over the topic in Scientific American (Why John Horgan doesn’t dig Buddhism) and take it apart a bit.
Don’t forget to read the background article that started Horgan’s trouble. He offers juicy points and sounds genuinely frustrated with a spirituality that he tried to embrace (4 years of meditation before giving up ain’t nothing).
I confess Horgan pushed a button by arguing that Buddhism’s worldview cannot easily be reconciled with modern humanistic values. Wow! Modern humanist values, themselves, are under attack for being unfriendly to humans, so what exactly is Horgan talking about here?
But let’s not trifle … moving on ..
There’s plenty of irony to be found in Horgan’s equation of Buddhism with Catholicism – plenty. While Hogan may find little difference, the christian missionaries who shaped the West’s first impressions of it certainly did.
An unfriendly dialogue has been going on between the two since the Jesuit missionary Matteo Ricci encountered Chinese Buddhism in the early 1500s. Ricci thought Buddhism was a religion of idolatry and superstition. He preferred Confucian scholars for their cultured minds, secular philosophical systems, and advanced ideas on good government. Reverend Robert Spence Hardy, a Methodist missionary in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) agreed. Both ridiculed Buddhism as an inferior parody of Christianity. For Ricci, the parody was demonic. For Hardy, it was merely uninspired.
Only in Japan did Buddhism meet with admiration – from another Jesuit missionary, Francis Xavier (arrived 1549). When he challenged the Zen monks on doctrine, they laughed at him, saying Zen had no doctrine and no truths to transmit. At that point he figured the Jesuits were going to need God’s help to convert the Japanese. He wrote to the order asking for the most educated and capable missionaries that the Jesuits could provide.
Hardy’s two books, Eastern Monachism (1850) and the Manual of Buddhism (1853), elevated him as the central authority on Therevada Buddhism in Britain for over 30 years. While Zen eventually caught on in the West in the 1950s and 60s, until that point Buddhism was mainly understood through Hardy’s interpretation of Sri Lankan Therevada.
We have to skip ahead to the early 1900s, through all sorts of interesting conversations, both in the East and West, about Buddhism to take up Hogen’s frustrations with Mind in just one guy: D.T. Suzuki.
Suzuki was a Rinzai Zen monk who studied under Shaku Soen, Japan’s delegate to the first World Parliament of Religions (part of the 1893 Chicago World Fair). Soen was the first Japanese to address the West on Japanese Buddhism. However, unlike Soen, Suzuki was fluent in English, and so he ended up as the main apologist for Zen in the West, right up until the 1960s. His influence extends into the Beat movement, transcendentalism, 1960’s counter-culture (drugs and spirituality, Aldous Huxley and Timothy Leary) plus environmental and social movements, such as deep ecology and steady state economics.
Suzuki comes from a branch of Zen (Rinzai) that emphasizes the use of the koan (paradoxical statement) as a means of getting past all of our prior assumptions. Rinzai, and Suzuki, are critical of the other main branch of Zen – Soto – and its emphasis on ‘merely sitting’ (zazen meditation). In Soto, enlightenment is ‘body and mind dropping off, dropping off body and mind’ (Dogen). As a result, Soto can appear inactive and non-experiential – not to mention bizarre, negative and frightening.
On the other hand, Rinzai is sexy. According to Suzuki, enlightenment comes in a flash – it emerges in a ‘peak experience’. Suzuki latched onto similarities between the ‘sudden illumination’ of Rinzai Zen and the mystical experiences known to Western romanticism and transcendentalism. And everyone from Heidegger to Jack Kerouac latched onto his presentation of Zen, spawning an entire cultural framework to counter that of rationalism, functionalism and materialism.
Horgan states that psychological explanations of ‘no self’ do not respond to philosophical explanations of emergent phenomenon. I agree. Buddhist truth is not psychological, it is religious. In all cases the ‘deep mystical state’ that Buddhist meditators achieve is insight into what is understood to be a universal truth – that all sensory and spiritual experiences pass, and, therefore, by their very nature, are illusory.
What Horgan glosses over is that the point of Buddhism is not so much that a reductionist analysis is unable to land on anything fixed and permanently real, as it is that phenomena arise co-dependently – in conjunction with any number of contributing factors – and especially in conjunction with the working of our minds. That is to say, many assumptions have to be in place in order for us to acknowledge even something as simple as the existence of Horgan’s Stevens Institute. So many in fact that we forget ever having put them in place.
So the question is …. how do we know something exists?
Horgen mistakenly equates Tibetan Buddhism with Zen. Now, on the question of how we know something exists, both have very different points of view. That whole conversation will have to wait for another day.
For right now, the only distinction that I am going to draw between Horgan’s experience with Tibetan Buddhism versus the one he may have had with Zen is that Tibetan Buddhism is tantra – esoteric buddhism – not mysticism.
There is no doubt that esoteric buddhism, in all its forms, shares much in common with Zen, but Zen truth, while ineffable, can be grasped by anyone. Tibetan buddhist truth is for the initiate only. And Zen has no mind, while Tibetan buddhism has many levels of mind.
Moreover, Japanese Zen finds its roots in Chinese Chan. It inherited the secular or ‘pragmatic’ cast of mind common to Chinese thought. So it is practical in nature. Tibetan buddhism, on the other hand, has roots closer to the original Indian buddhism and so inherited a ‘metaphysical’ cast of mind. Top that off with a heavy admixture of ideas imported from Hinduism and you get a mystery religion and not mysticism.
All Buddhist apologists in the West have found themselves up against the modern point of view. And with Horgan brooding away there in Scientific American, obviously they still do.
Angarika Dharmapala, Ceylon’s (Sri Lanka) representative at the World Parliament of Religions in 1893, tried to appeal to Western thinking in a different way than Soen and Suzuki. He attacked Social Darwinism: specifically the view that Buddhism represented an early stage in the historical progression of spirituality from East to West. According to Social Darwinism, the evolution of religion was supposed to result in a type of universal rational Christianity.
Like Suzuki, Dharmapala was fluent in English and able to show that Buddhism was compatible with ‘modern’ ideas. He demonstrated that Buddhism was a logical system of thought, with its own theory of evolution that developed roughly 2500 years before Darwin. In this way – though it took much doing – he, and his Therevada successors, were able to bring Buddhism to the fore as the humanist tradition best able to respond to modern scientific and spiritual needs.
This is the guy who emptied Buddhism of its supernatural, one could say mystical, elements and made it rational. He emphasized it as a individualist way of life, good for the mind, good for society and thoroughly compatible with a modern, Western point of view. You can trace Dharmapala’s ideas in a few of the mainstream North American ‘schools’ of Buddhism that Hogen complains about.
Definitely these schools are not religion, in any conventional sense, but they’re not science either. They’re something in between that opposes both. Clearly counter-cultural. And, frankly, I don’t know why Horgan wouldn’t dig that. But then, you know, I’m not a scientist.
1) Tibetan Buddhism – Francisco J. Varela and the Mind and Life Institute
2) Therevada of South East Asia and Sri Lanka – Jack Kornfield and the connection between meditation and psychology
3) Zen – Jon Kabat-Zinn and the Centre for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care and Society.
I don’t believe in reincarnation, and I don’t think one must in order to “be a Buddhist.” Karma, on the other hand, is an inescapable plank that Buddha used to explain his insights.
First of all, karma is not reincarnation. Properly, the round of rebirth is samsara. Karma, as well all know, means action or deed, and the consequences of that action. At some distant point in the history of India, long before the Buddha arrived, the idea of samsara was merged with karma.
Without getting into complex ideas about how karma doesn’t really exist, because enlightenment is the cessation of karma, let me just say this: karma is just a natural law of cause and effect that can be used to our advantage and not something we are trapped by. Moreover, the morality of an act is found in the intentions behind it. So really, if Horgan doesn’t feel himself to be suffering, no good Buddhist would want him to.
On the other hand, we all know that if you punch someone in the face you’re probably going to pay for it. Buddhism makes that ‘you probably’ into an iron clad ‘you will’ — but in the next breath, don’t worry Horgan, bad gurus living out mystic nihilism too ‘will’ pay for it, regardless of their false piety and institutional authority.