Monday, February 12, 2018

Buddhist Dharmology

Some venues for exploration: Buddhist Dharmology is the Buddhist theory and study of dharma. There are many meanings and usage of the word dharma. According to Vasubandhu, there are ten meanings of dharma (i.e. chos ni shes bya lam dang ni || mya ngan ’das dang yid kyi yul ||, etc.). If it is used in the plural, it usually means “phenomena.” And saddharma refers to the teaching of the Buddha. It is the dharmaratna, one of the Three Jewels. Thus all that is saddharma is dharma but not everything that is dharma is saddharma. Saddharma is said to be of two types: āgamadharma/deśanādharma and adhigamadharma. The first is instructional-scriptural and the latter realizational-experiential. The first is classified in many ways and on the basis of different criteria. Cf. gsung rab yan lag dgu or bcu gnyis, sde snod gsum, mdo sde snod gsum, sngags rgyud sde bzhi; bka’ ’khor lo rim pa gsum, 84,000 dharmaskandhas, etc. The relationship between buddharatna, dharmaratna, and saṃgharatna is interesting. According to some Mahāyāna sources, buddha can manifest as dharma and saṃgha. Each of the three can manifest as all three. Dharmology is as complex as Buddhology. What is criteria of the genuineness or authenticity of dharma in the sense of saddharma? Two kinds of criterion need to be discussed. What is the anti-thesis of dharma? Of course, adharma! Does dharma have any intrinsic value? Does it have any extrinsic value? What is the origin of saddharma? These are some points to reflect upon.

Friday, February 2, 2018

Buddhist Egology

Here are a few personal thoughts on Buddhist egology. Obviously I am not the first person to employ this term. No doubt, the Buddhist theory of anātman is well known. It seems to be uniquely Buddhist. But did the Buddha categorically and apodictically reject an ātman? There seem to be some indications that he was somewhat reticent about the rejection of an ātman. This is obviously because he knew that human beings tend to be categorical, radical, and extreme, and thereby turn even medicine into poison and thereby causing much pain, death, and destruction. The Buddha’s approach of teaching is compared to a tigress’s approach of handling her cubs. She neither holds her cubs too tight in her jaws lest she injures them nor does she hold them too loose lest she drops them. A categorical and apodictic rejection of an ātman would have robbed sentient beings of any basis of ethical-ascetical integrity thereby encouraging them to become ruthless and irresponsible monsters who are bent on ruining oneself and others. A categorical and apodictic proposition of an ātman would have encouraged sentient beings to further bind themselves to a fictitious core of existence and thereby causing them to go on suffering. This apparent reticence or caution or ambivalence of the Buddha seems to have provided his subsequent followers with two alternatives. While most Buddhist schools decided for anātman, Vātsīputrīyas opted for ātman. But unlike the non-Buddhist Ātmavādins, the latter maintained that ātman is actually inexpressible because it can neither be expressed and identified as being identical with or separate from a person’s psychical-physical complex (skandha: phung po). They actually seem to have preferred to call it pudgala. Vātsīputrīyas are said to have regarded this ātman/pudgala to be momentary as opposed to non-Buddhist Ātmavādins, for whom ātman is always eternal. But Vātsīputrīyas’ works on their ātman/pudgala theory have not been transmitted to us and thus what little we know about it is based on reports of it given by its opponents who might not have necessarily portrayed Vātsīputrīyas’ position fairly or accurately. It becomes clear that for Vasubandhu, Vātsīputrīyas’ theory of ātman/pudgala would be problem only if it is said to be “substantially existent” (dravyasat: rdzas su yod pa). If it is accepted to be only “nominally existent” (prajñaptisat: btags par yod pa), it would not be a problem at all.

Most Buddhist schools subsequently proposed anātman. In this regard, we have to ask this question, which was probably asked by past Buddhist philosophers. That is, if the Buddha was reticent about the ātman and anātman, was it because both of them were epistemically wrong or right but he did not specify as such for therapeutic, propaedeutic, or pedagogic reasons or purposes? Most Buddhist schools seem to have taken for granted that the Buddha indeed taught that ātman does not exist, which is the truth, but nonetheless, he was careful because not everyone can digest the truth and benefit from it. From a Prāsaṅgika-Madhyamaka’s perspective, one could perhaps state that there are actually no ‘I’ and ‘Mine’ but nonetheless, the Buddha, in accordance with the conventions known in the world (lokaprasiddha: ’jig rten grags pa), spoke in terms of  ‘I’ and ‘Mine’ for the benefit of sentient beings. Similarly, there are actually no psychical-physical complexes (skandha) and entitative elements (dhātu: khams) but nonetheless, the Buddha, in accordance with the conventions known in the world, spoke of the psychical-physical complexes and entitative elements for the benefit of sentient beings. Likewise, there is actually not even cittamātra, but nonetheless, the Buddha, in accordance with the conventions known in the world, taught the doctrine cittamātra for the benefit of sentient beings. And finally, there is actually not even śūnyatā, but nonetheless the Buddha taught the doctrine śūnyatā for the benefit of sentient beings. The teaching of śūnyatā itself is an antidote against the view that phenomena exists in reality. Once the illness is cured one should no longer cling to even medicine. Thus, let alone hypostatizing ātman, one should not even hypostatize śūnyatā. By hypostatizing the ultimate medicine, one would turn it into poison. If this happens, the illness would become incurable and there is no other cure.    

Schmithausen has pointed out that the term anātman has been interpreted in two ways, namely, as (1) a tatpuruṣa (bdag ma yin pa) “non-Self” and as (b) a bahuvrīhi (bdag med pa) “no-Self” (Schmithausen 2007: 221, n. 27). These two interpretations also seem to serve as doctrinal basis of what are called the two kinds of negation with regard to nairātmya (“non/no-essentiality”) or śūnyatā (“emptiness”), namely, “implicatory negation/exclusion” (ma yin dgag) and “non-implicatory negation/exclusion” (med dgag). I personally feel that these two were not seen as mutually contradictory but rather complementary. That is, if none of the phenomena are ātman (i.e. ma yin dgag), there is no ātman (i.e. med dgag). If none of the persons present in a room is a thief (i.e. ma yin dgag), one could conclude that there is no thief in the room (i.e. med dgag).

The basic Buddhist philosophical argument against the existence of an ātman is that ātman, which is explicitly or implicitly understood to be autonomous, eternal, and unitary core of a person, is impossible because all conditioned phenomena are heteronomous, transient, and multiple. A person or self is nothing but a vague fuzzy and arbitrary label given to a collection and continuum of heterogeneous and heteronomous psychical-physical complexes, and there is such thing as an ātman in the sense of a kind of meta-psychical or meta-physical core or essentiality (ātmya) that underlies a person. Thus all conditioned phenomena are transient. All defied phenomena subjected to or associated with pain, suffering, and discontentment. All phenomena are characterized by non-essentiality and emptiness. The cessation of the suffering and discontentment and their causes alone is characterized by tranquility or quiescence.

There are all kinds or degrees of egotism, egoism, egocentricity, or egomania, such as the seven kinds of ‘ego’ (sapta mānāḥ: nga rgyal rnam pa bdun = nga rgyal bdun): mānaatimānamānātimānaabhimānaūnamānamithyāmāna, and asmimāna. There is also a list of nine. But the root of all seems to be asmimāna, the notion of self or self-identity/self-identification. It is the notion of an ego (ahaṃkāra: ngar ’dzin pa). This is also the basis of “grasping to [someone or something as] mine” (mamakāra: bdag gir ’dzin pa = nga yir ’dzin pa). One grasps to one as “I” and to other persons and things as “mine.” This fuels the motor of one’s saṃsāric engine.

In course of time, there arose two kinds of non/no-essentiality (nairātmya: bdag med pa) corresponding to the two kinds of “essentiality” (ātmya: bdag): non/no-essentiality of person (pudgalanairātmya: gang zag gi bdag med pa) and non/no-essentiality of phenomena (dharmanairātmya: chos kyi bdag med pa).

The classical argumentative reasoning for pudgalanairātmya is the “sevenfold analysis of a chariot,” that is, the rnam bdun shing rta’i rigs pa. Candrakīrti’s employment of it is more popular in Tibet. But this seems to go back in some form already to earlier sources such as the Millindapañha and Vajjirasutta.

The doctrines of pudgalanairātmya and dharmanairātmya have obviously been seen not only as being key to soteric goals but also to therapeutic purposes. The therapeutic value of the doctrine of pudgalanairātmya seems to be gained through the depersonalization of phenomena. That is, the realization that there is no pudgala (“person”) involved in whatever terrible and horrible happens in the world would help one cope with the world. Persons and their actions, too, are mere phenomena (dharmamātra: chos tsam) determined through constellation and interaction of causes and conditions. If this does not make sense, just compare how humans psychologically deal with pudgala-made (i.e. men-made) and dharma-made (i.e. natural) disasters!   

The most important critique against the nairātmya theory is the lack of an agent or bearer for the karmic and salvific mechanism. For Buddhists, there is no need for an owner or bearer of karmic and salvific consequences. These just take place like a wild fire in an empty village. Just as one employs the term “chariot” so does one employ the term “I” or “self.” In other words, there is no problem even for the Buddha and philosophers such as Nāgārjuna to resort to the convention of the first person singular “I” (or “self”). This convention is used, so to speak, naively and analytically. Some scholars call this “mere I” (nga tsam). Some Buddhist responses to the critiques, however, had far reaching consequences. It gave rise to many doctrines and ideas that were not directly related to Buddhist soteriology.

Buddhist sources recognize two kinds of ātman or rather notions of ātman. The first notion of ‘I’ is instinctive, inborn, and natural (lhan skyes). We are born with a notion of ‘I.’ It is  erroneous and arbitrary. But apparently this is of existential necessity. ‘I’ is the spatial and temporal point of reference for everything. Ironically, this vague, feeble, blurry, erroneous, and arbitrary notion of ‘I’ is the center of one’s universe. That is, a premature loss of personal identity; split-personality; multiple-personality complex; and the like, would lead to an identity crisis in our saṃsāric existence, thereby rendering us unfit for taking up any kind of responsibility. The second notion of ‘I’ is the notion of a meta-psychical and meta-physical ātman acquired through indoctrination. It is conceptually constructed (kun brtags) and artificial. Although this artificial notion of ‘I’ is certainly erroneous, it is not the actual cause of our saṃsāric existence and thus the cognition that such an ātman does not exist will not free us from our saṃsāric bondage. The instinctive notion of ‘I’ is the actual culprit. It is responsible for our saṃsāric bondage. Gaining direct jñānaic access to the non-existence of such a ‘self’ would uproot the root cause of saṃsāric bondage thereby causing one’s freedom from saṃsāric shackles. The second notion of ‘I’ cannot exist without the first notion of ‘I’ but the first notion of ‘I’ can exist without the second notion of ‘I’.        

Later trans/ultra-phenomenal reality (e.g. tathatā and tathāgatagrabha) came to be called ātman, not in the sense of traditional non-Buddhist Ātmavādins’ theory of ātman, but in a sense that transcends the two extremes or poles of ātman and anātman. The trans/ultra-phenomenal reality that transcends the dichotomy of ātman and anātman has been described as the ātmapāramitā (“perfection of self”). The transcendence of what has been referred to as the extremes of ātman and anātman is not limited to cataphatic Mahāyāna strands of Buddhism (e.g. in Tathāgatagarbhic scriptures) but also found in apophatic strands of Mahāyāna strands of Buddhism (e.g. in the Kāśyapaparivarta). These, in a way, are continuation of the approach of the Buddha as insinuated by the analogy of a tigress’s handling of her cubs.

Friday, January 12, 2018

Buddhist Dolorology/Algology/Algonomy/Lypeology/Odyneology

Buddhist Dolorology/Algology/Algonomy/

I would like to remind my readers (especially if they happen to be my students) that these blog writings of mine are not meant to be academic writings and thus they should not be treated as such, although I do welcome academics to read and comment on them.

I contend that the uniqueness of a religion is defined by the uniqueness of its soteriology, and Buddhism is no exception. And Buddhist soteriology is inextricably linked with what I propose to call “Buddhist algology or Buddhist algonomy.” I wish to define “Buddhist algology or algonomy” simply as the Buddhist philosophy of pain or suffering in a concrete sense (e.g. toothache) as well as a deep-seated, subtle, and inexplicable sense of discontentment even as one experiences moments of sheer joy or pleasure.

Or, we may term ssuch as “Buddhist lypeology” or “Buddhist odyneology.” I have borrowed Greek words lypē and odynē (having the meaning of “(primarily) physical or (secondarily) mental pain”). By “Buddhist lypeology/odyneology,” I wish to express the Buddhist theory or philosophy of pain, suffering, and discontentment (duḥkha: sdug bsngal). Buddhist lypeology/odyneology can be considered an important aspect of Buddhist philosophy and Buddhist soteriology. I shall mention here only a few points that seem relevant for Buddhist lypeology/odyneology. What is duḥkha? What is the nature of duḥkha? What are the causes and conditions of duḥkha? What are the antidotes of duḥkha? Can one and how can one end duḥkha? What is the value (if there is one at all) of duḥkha? With regard to the nature of duḥkha, one can also consider the typology of duḥkha. One may consider two types of duḥkha: physical (or bodily) duḥkha and psychical (or mental) duḥkha. On may also consider three types of duḥkha. This is well known. The third of the three types of duḥkha is said to be typically Buddhist (LS). Then usually Buddhist sources speak of the eight kinds of duḥkha (already in canonical sources). I just see that rDo-grub bsTan-pa’i-nyi-ma (gSung ’bum, vol. 7, p. 236) also speaks of  two kinds of duḥkha, “gross duḥkha” (rags pa’i sdug bsngal) and “subtle duḥkha” (phra ba’i sdug bsngal) The first one is identified as duḥkha experienced by beings in lower destinies (durgati: ngan song) whereas the latter with saṃskāraduḥkhatā. Two Buddhist positions are noteworthy here. First we have the one position according to which there is no sukha at all in saṃsāra and that all feelings/sensations are duḥkha. The impression of sukha that we get is mistaken just like the feeling of ease that we get while shifting the load from one shoulder to another. Second, we do also have some strands that believed that we do have feeling of happiness and pleasure (although often dominated by the feeling of duḥkha). The primary cause of duḥkha is according to one position tṛṣṇā and according to another avidyā (and we may find the two positions reconciled). It is assumed that pāpa causes duḥkha. What about the value of duḥkha? My impression is that in Buddhism, duḥkha in a measured degree can be beneficial for a person (and thus can have a positive instrumental value). Too much of duḥkha or sukha is, however, detrimental or impedimental for a person. In Buddhism, duḥkha is not owned by an owner. It takes place in any psycho-physical complex at any given point in time and place. In addition, it is assumed that duḥkha (e.g. toothache) is a reality that one has to face once it is present. If one does not want future duḥkha, just avoid its causes and conditions. Intellectual-psychological receptivity (kṣānti: bzod pa) is necessary to face one’s duḥkha. Usually one who is capable of equalizing  sukha and duḥkha is considered wise. Some Buddhist strands recommend one to view duḥkha not as a problem but as a solution. So it is said that one should see duḥkhasatya as nirodhasatya (i.e. saṃsāra and nirvāṇa.

Some random points would be mentioned here as possible venues for exploring Buddhist algology/algonomy. (1) The idea that the worldly existence is inherently characterized by pain and suffering is not unique to Buddhist philosophy, and is common to both pre-Buddhist and non-Buddhist philosophies and religions. (2) What is certainly unique to Buddhism is the scheme of the Four Noble Truths or Truths Accessible to the Noble Ones only.

Sunday, December 3, 2017

A Buddhist Philosophical Perspective on Sensibility and Vulnerability

It is already passed midnight. I drank a cup of strong coffee to keep myself awake to do some urgent paper works. I did manage to do some paper works but not all. Paper works are like waves. Incessant. The effect of coffee seems to linger. I am tired but still not sleepy. There is dead silence. I can only hear my conceptual waves lash against the shores of my brain.

I am thinking about sensibility and vulnerability from a Buddhist philosophical perspective. This is trigged by some recent turmoil (or incidents) in the Tibetan society. I am not a Tibetan, but an admirer of Tibetan people with all its strengths and weaknesses. And I try to intellectually engage with Tibetan Buddhism. In fact, this is all I can do. I consider myself apolitical, not because I have no political views on any given issue but because I consider political (or religious) ideology to be inherently beset with cognitional-emotional defilements (kleśa: nyon mongs pa).

Elsewhere, I once stated that there is no such thing as a perfect political system or a form of government. Of the many forms of imperfect political systems, democracy seems to be preferable, though not necessarily more efficient. I also claim that the degree of the efficiency and success of democracy is directly proportional to the gross national wisdom or insight (prajñā: shes rab) and compassion (karuṇā/kṛpā: snying rje) of the people. Democracy is doomed to fail and cause immense misery to the people if the majority of people become increasingly blinded by one’s political and religious ideology and if the benevolent attitude of compassion for all people is supplanted by malevolence and hatred. Majority per se can never be a criterion for prajñāic and karuṇāic correctness. Ignorance and malice of one hundred people would not transform them to wisdom and compassion. A country ruled by one wise and compassionate person would be much better off than a country ruled by one hundred ignorant and cruel persons. That is why sometimes one would think that a wise and benevolent monarchy is better than a dysfunctional democracy run by foolish and cruel people. Despite such risks, democracy should be promoted by trying to constantly enhance the gross national prajñā and gross national karuṇā. The two should ensure that the greater and long-term wellbeing of the people is not undermined. …