Month: February 2011

Considering how much I agree with what the Dalai Lama has to say in The Universe in a Single Atom, it’s no wonder I continually find myself attracted to Buddhism, at least philosophically. Since the last two chapters are relatively short and I feel the need to get back to poetry, I thought I’d summarize them and be done with what has been a more challenging book than I thought it would be when I first dove into it. This exploration that began with Maslow and then led, in turn, to Rollo May and the Dalai Lama has at times seemed more like a post-graduate course than a casual read. Although I’ve enjoyed the challenge and learned more than I have in awhile, all three have inspired considerable outside reading on the internet in order to understand what was being said by one of these authors. I suspect I’ll be following threads that I picked up here for a considerable length of time, and I’m sure I’ll be picking up another of the Dalai Lama’s books shortly, too.

I didn’t find a single idea in the last two chapters I disagreed with. The biggest problem is not citing all the ideas I agree with. The chapter entitled “Ethics and the New Genetics” looks at one final aspect of science. Although the Dalai Lama states that he has no complaint about genetic studies in general, like many common citizens he has some reservations about how those studies should be applied in the real world because he worries about the long-term effects:

But by doing these things, we are changing the genetic makeup, and do we really know what the long-term impact will be on the species of plants, on the soil, on the environment? There are obvious commercial benefits, but how do we judge what is really useful? The complex web of interdependence that characterizes the environment makes it seem beyond our capacity to predict.

Like me, he worries about introducing rapid changes into a ecosystem that has evolved over centuries:

Genetic changes have happened slowly over hundreds of thousands of years of natural evolution. The evolution of the human brain has occurred over millions of years. By actively manipulating the gene, we are on the cusp of forcing an unnaturally quick rate of change in animals and plants as well as our own species. This is not to say that we should turn our backs on developments in this area-it is simply to point out that we must become aware of the awesome implications of this new area of science. But with the new era in biogenetic science, the gap between moral reasoning and our technological capacities has reached a critical point. The rapid increase of human knowledge and the technological possibilities emerging in the new genetic science are such that it is now almost impossible for ethical thinking to keep pace with these changes. Much of what is soon going to be possible is less in the form of new breakthroughs or paradigms in science than in the development of new technological options combined with the financial calculations of business and the political and economic calculations of governments. The issue is no longer whether we should or should not acquire knowledge and explore its technological potentials. Rather, the issue is how to use this new knowledge and power in the most expedient and ethically responsible manner.

It’s hard not to agree that with “the new era in biogenetic science, the gap between moral reasoning and our technological capacities has reached a critical point.” On Facebook I’ve pointed to several articles that question whether the use of Bayer products are the source of problems with the destruction of bee colonies. It’s all to obvious that when it comes to a conflict between economics and “ethically responsible behavior” that economics, more often than not, take priority.

The Dalai Lama, and perhaps rightfully so, is even more concerned when it comes to the use of genetic cloning when it comes to humans:

In principle, I have no objection to cloning as such-as a technological instrument for medical and therapeutic purposes. As in all these cases, what must govern one’s decisions is the question of compassionate motivation. However, regarding the idea of deliberately breeding semi-human beings for spare parts, I feel an immediate, instinctive revulsion. I once saw a BBC documentary which simulated such creatures through computer animation, with some distinctively recognizable human features. I was horrified. Some people might feel this is an irrational emotional reaction that need not be taken seriously. But I believe we must trust our instinctive feelings of revulsion, as these arise out of our basic humanity.

It seems to me that “revulsion” is a good minimum standard for judging biogenetic manipulation, but it’s obvious that we are going to need higher standards than that, as the Dalai Lama points out:

Today’s challenges are so great-and the dangers of the misuse of technology so global, entailing a potential catastrophe for all humankind-that I feel we need a moral compass we can use collectively without getting bogged down in doctrinal differences. One key factor that we need is a holistic and integrated outlook at the level of human society that recognizes the fundamentally interconnected nature of all living beings and their environment. Such a moral compass must entail preserving our human sensitivity and will depend on us constantly bearing in mind our fundamental human values. We must be willing to be revolted when science-or for that matter any human activity-crosses the line of human decency, and we must fight to retain the sensitivity that is otherwise so easily eroded.

He ends his discussion of genetics on a note

The fate of the human species, perhaps of all life on this planet, is in our hands. In the face of the great unknown, would it not be better to err on the side of caution than to transform the course of human evolution in an irreversibly damaging direction?

that I often use when discussing Climate Change, formerly Global Warming. Climate Change is a theory, a prediction, but only a fool wouldn’t hedge his bet when the stakes are that high. Climate deniers claim environmentalists want to stop “progress,” but I would argue that what they really want is sustainable progress.

In conclusion, the Dalai Lama tries to tie his discussion of the three great areas of science with his own beliefs:

The insights of science have enriched many aspects of my own Buddhist worldview. Einstein’s theory of relativity, with its vivid thought experiments, has given an empirically tested texture to my grasp of Nagarjuna’s theory of the relativity of time. The extraordinarily detailed picture of the behavior of subatomic particles at the minutest levels imaginable brings home the Buddha’s teaching on the dynamically transient nature of all things. The discovery of the genome all of us share throws into sharp relief the Buddhist view of the fundamental equality of all human beings.

It’s definitely refreshing to have a religious leader address scientific thinking in such a thoughtful way, while still willing to state his reservations about what is happening:

Throughout this book, I hope I have made the case that one can take science seriously and accept the validity of its empirical findings without subscribing to scientific materialism. I have argued for the need for and possibility of a worldview grounded in science, yet one that does not deny the richness of human nature and the validity of modes of knowing other than the scientific. I say this because I believe strongly that there is an intimate connection between one’s conceptual understanding of the world, one’s vision of human existence and its potential, and the ethical values that guide one’s behavior. How we view ourselves and the world around us cannot help but affect our attitudes and our relations with our fellow beings and the world we live in. This is in essence a question of ethics.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising that the way we see things often depends on what we are looking for. It’s easy to forget that the way we classify things depends on our purpose. The Dalai Lama argues that one of the fundamental reasons Buddhist psychology and Western psychology see people differently is because their overall aim is quite different:

The principal aim of Buddhist psychology is not to catalog the mind’s makeup or even to describe how the mind functions; rather its fundamental concern is to overcome suffering, especially psychological and emotional afflictions, and to clear those afflictions.

Of course, most of us are probably aware of this at one time or another in our life, but over time it’s easy to forget. For instance, when I considered turning to a Psychology major many years ago I was bothered by the fact that psychology seemed overly concerned with abnormal behavior, and I wondered how you could develop sound psychological theories without also focusing on those who were “well-adjusted,” not to mention those who were also successful.

The Dalai Lama points out other critical social concepts that make it unlikely that Buddhist and Western psychologists would see a patient in the same light and wonders if modern technology will ever be able to differentiate between accurate and inaccurate perceptions:

So when a perception occurs, it is not a case of simple mirroring in the mind of what is outside but rather a complex process of organization that takes place to make sense of what are technically infinite amounts of information. These are all cases where the illusion is conditioned by very immediate circumstances. But there is a whole category of more complex conditions for false cognitions, such as the belief in an autonomous self or the belief that the self or other conditioned phenomena are permanent. During an experience, there’s no way to distinguish between accurate and deluded perception. It’s only in hindsight that we can make this distinction. It is in effect the subsequent experiences derived from such cognitions that help determine whether they are valid or invalid. It would be interesting to know whether neuroscience will be able to differentiate between accurate and inaccurate perceptions at the level of brain activity.

With such different basic beliefs, it’s not surprising that Buddhists and Westerners do not, perhaps, cannot, see the world in the same way. But this doesn’t seem too shocking to me. It’s impossible to study modern literature without reaching some of the same conclusions. Works like Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury address some of these issues, and it’s impossible to read modern literature widely without being exposed to moral relativism.

I was, though, more shocked when I read that:

Neither Sanskrit nor classical Tibetan has a word for “emotion” as the concept is used in modern languages and cultures. This is not to say that the idea of emotion does not exist, nor does it imply that Indians and Tibetans do not experience emotions. Just as Westerners feel joy at good news, sadness at a personal loss, and fear in the face of danger, so do the Indians and the Tibetans. Perhaps the reasons for the lack of such a word have to do with the history of philosophical thinking and psychological analysis in India and Tibet. Buddhist psychology did not differentiate cognitive from emotional states in the way Western thought differentiated the passions from reason. From the Buddhist perspective, the distinctions between afflictive and non-afflictive mental states are more important than the difference between cognition and emotions. Discerning intelligence, closely associated with reason, may be afflictive (for example, in the cunning planning of an act of murder), whereas a passionate state of mind, such as overwhelming compassion, may be a highly virtuous, non-afflictive state. Moreover, the emotions of both joy and sorrow may be afflictive or non-afflictive, destructive or beneficial, depending on the context in which they arise. When we turn to the afflictive mental processes, the list is fuller, largely because these are what need to be purified by the person aspiring to enlightenment in Buddhism. There are six root mental afflictions: attachment or craving, anger (which includes hate), pride or conceit, ignorance, afflictive doubt, and afflictive views. Of these, the first three have a strong emotional component. Then there are twenty derivative afflictions: wrath, resentment, spite, envy or jealousy, and cruelty (these are derived from anger); meanness, inflated self-esteem, excitement including surprise, concealment of one’s own vices, and mental dullness (these are derived from attachment); lack of confidence, sloth, forgetfulness, and lack of attention (these are derived from ignorance); pretentiousness, deceit, shamelessness, lack of consideration for others, heedlessness, and distraction (these are derived from the combination of ignorance and attachment). Clearly many of the mental factors enumerated here can be identified with emotions. Finally, in the list of fifty-one, there is a group of four mental factors referred to as the “changeables.” These are sleep, regret, investigation, and minute analysis. They are called changeables because, depending on the state of mind, they can be wholesome, unwholesome, or neutral.

I’m so immersed in my own culture it’s difficult to understand why “Buddhist psychology would not differentiate cognitive from emotional states in the way Western thought differentiated the passions from reason,” though that statement makes me question in what ways cognitive and emotional states really are different. Unfortunately, by the time the Dalai Lama finishes listing the fifty-one mental afflictions, I feel totally lost.

If that weren’t enough, the Dalai Lama warns that the Buddhist distinction between “wholesome and unwholesome emotions” would not be the same a the Western distinction:

It is most important to be sensitive to the differing contexts in which Buddhist and Western psychology provide treatment of the emotions. We must not confuse the Buddhist distinction between the wholesome and the unwholesome emotions with Western psychology’s distinction between the positive and the negative emotions. In Western thought, positive and negative are defined in terms of how one feels when particular emotions occur. For example, fear is negative because it brings about an unpleasant feeling of disturbance.

The Buddhist differentiation between unwholesome or afflictive and wholesome mental factors is based on the roles these factors play in relation to the acts they give rise to-in other words, one’s ethical well-being. For instance, attachment may feel enjoyable but is regarded as afflictive since it involves the kind of blind clinging, based on self-centeredness, which can motivate one to harmful action. Fear is neutral and indeed changeable in that it may spur one to wholesome or unwholesome behavior depending on the circumstances.

I certainly don’t completely understand the Buddhist perspective, though my previous reading about Buddhism gives me an inkling of what the Dalai Lama is pointing out. Though I’ve encountered a number of the underlying Buddhist ideas, like “attachment,” I’d never really considered how these basic beliefs would ripple through so many other fields of thought, giving the viewer a completely different perspective.