Does
Buddhism propose determinism or predeterminism? I think this is a question that
needs to be asked. Any attempt to answer this question presupposes that we
agree on how we define the terms “determinism” and “predeterminism.” Let us
presuppose the definitions given by the Wikipedia (s.vv.):
“Determinism is the philosophical position that for every event, including
human action, there exist conditions that could cause no other event.” And
“Predeterminism is the idea that all events are determined in advance.
Predeterminism is the philosophy that
all events of history, past, present and future, have been already decided
or are already known (by God, fate, or some other force), including
human actions.” Even if we consider Buddhist ideas of karman, agotraka (“one
who no spiritual disposition”), gnas dang gnas gnas ma yin pa (“possibles
and impossibles”), and pratītyasamutpāda, I do not think that
Buddhism can be said to posit the ideas of determinism and predeterminism.
Instead perhaps Buddhism can be said to posit the philosophy of “conditionalism.”
The fact that “x” can or cannot become “y” has nothing (or little) to do with
determinism and predeterminism. It is simply a matter of whether correct and
sufficient causes come together or not. Such a philosophy of conditionalism is
not what one might call “indefinitism,” “arbitaryism,” or “chaoticism.”
(Personal blog of Dorji Wangchuk (Kuliśeśvara) for philosophical reflection, speculation, and deliberation)
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Buddhism on Apostasy? Apostasy in Buddhism?
According
to the Wikipedia, “Apostasy (Greek: apostasia ’a
defection or revolt’) is the formal disaffiliation from or abandonment or
renunciation of a religion by a person. One who commits apostasy (or who
apostatizes) is known as an apostate. The term apostasy is used by
sociologist to mean renunciation and criticism of, or opposition to, a
person’s former religion, in a technical sense and without pejorative
connotation.” The Wikipedia discuses apostasy as viewed by
several religions but not by Buddhism. I think one can legitimately raise the
question as to how Buddhism (or Buddhists) would view someone who has abandoned
Buddhism. It seems in general no follower of a religion or ideology would endorse or
encourage another person to renounce or abandon the religion or ideology that
one follows. A Buddhist would perhaps also never happily endorse or encourage a
fellow Buddhist to renounce Buddhist teachings. This is because the teaching of
the Buddha is often seen as a cure against all saṃsāric ills. Endorsing or
encouraging others to give up Buddhism would be like endorsing or encouraging a
patient to give up medicine. But should a patient choose to renounce the
life-saving medicine, one cannot do anything. What one can do at the most is be
compassionate to the patient and wish him/her well. Exacting death penalty or
other forms of punishment or persecution from an apostate of Buddhism would be
like executing or torturing a patient because he/she has refused to take
medicine. Such a Buddhist attitude towards apostates of Buddhism would only
make sense only in the light of the Buddhist notion of what Srinivasan once
called “salvific privatism” (Heilsprivatismus). That is, salvific
mechanism functions according to a certain law of nature, and one is solely
responsible for detangling oneself from one’s own saṃsāric bondage. If one
slanders the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṃgha, one does so at one’s own risk. If one
respects the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṃgha, one does so for one’s own good.
“Dharma-Fatigue Syndrome”
The story
of dGe-slong Legs-pa’i-skar-ma (Sunakṣatra) is a warning to all of us who may
be suffering from what I call “Dharma-fatigue syndrome.” People like dPal-sprul
have been particularly vocal in trying to raise awareness of this particular
disease. A typical symptom of a person suffering from such a syndrome is that a
person would have lost all senses of emotionality and rationality, which is
expressed in Tibetan: “No compassion [arises] even [upon witnessing] a sentient
being, whose intestines are dangling out. No devotion/appreciation [arises]
even [upon witnessing] an awakened being flying in the sky” (sems can rgyu ma lug
kyang snying rje med. sangs rgyas nam mkhar phur kyang dad pa med).
Particularly those who deal with the Dharma—full-time practicians and full-time
theoreticians—seem to be prone to this illness. (Please note that “practician”
is a word and I prefer to use it here.) The situation is particularly acute
when practicians and theoreticians are “successful,” “powerful,” and “healthy.”
Under such circumstances, we lose all senses of reality. We tend to forget the
very purpose of Dharma. We use Dharma for Adharmic purposes. We become corrupt.
We become “self-conceited” (mngon pa’i nga rgyal
can). All—including sprul skus, bla mas, mkhan pos, and
professors—fall victim to this disease. We start to think we are eternal and
invincible. We trample upon morality, rationality, and spirituality. We know
that actually in Buddhism, to be too well is not very well. That is why a human
existence with a bearable dose of suffering is better than a celestial
existence that is overwhelmingly good. Too good is not very good. We cease to
grow intellectually and emotionally. Most teachings of bla mas may now
seem so shallow, and may no longer inspire or satisfy one. One may attend an
academic gathering only to get disappointed by the frivolity of most scholars
and the superficiality of most scholarship. What can one do in such a case? The
Buddhist answer to this would be to look within, to be self-critical, to tackle
one’s own intellectual-emotional defilements, to resort to nges ’byung gi sems and byang chub kyi sems.
There is no such thing as a perfect person, a perfect scholar, or perfect
scholarship. There are varying degrees of good or bad qualities. Even one
percent of good quality in anyone is to be cognized, recognized, cherished, and
appreciated. Why? Because it is good quality. In the mean time, one will have
to keep on pursuing the goal of maximizing one’s prajñā and karuṇā, all the
while trying to minimize the collateral damage that the pursuit of one’s goal
might cause others. This, in my view, is the very meaning and essence of life.
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