Showing posts with label Buddhism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Buddhism. Show all posts

Sunday, May 31, 2026

Human Agency and AI

[Updated on 4 June '26 with additional paragraphs on mental agency.]

[This article has also been kindly translated into Italian by Francesco Galgani.]

It is one year since my last post, in which I related how I made a comparison of human and machine intelligence on the basis of reflections on stillness. After pulling my paper from consideration for the JSRE special issue, I subsequently had a shorter article on this topic included in Issue 78 of De Numine, the magazine journal of the Alister Hardy Trust.

Since my last post my Academia profile has received dozens of invitations to submit a conference paper, all of them relating to AI. The headline themes include computer science, engineering, signal and image processing, wireless and mobile technologies, database management, big data, Internet of Things, and so on.  Yet, at the same time, I’ve not received any invitations related to my most popular upload by far, which is on Buddhist ethics. This is an indication of the frenzied and scattered attention being given to AI, often at the expense of pretty much everything else.

Mainstream media is reporting increased existential fears, ranging from the immediate (job uncertainty) to long-term implications for humanity.  This is concentrating attention on the distinct qualities of being human, but I find the response from academia tends to take a materialist perspective and gets bogged down in legalities.  Much more on point is Pope Leo XIV’s encyclical Magnifica Humanitas: On Safeguarding the Human Person in the Time of Artificial Intelligence.

The Pope's letter dwells especially on the social aspects and the common good, naturally reflecting the concerns of an institution. Here I take a Buddhist perspective, focused more on the individual.  Moving out of stillness, I wish again to highlight six characteristics of human agency:

    • initiation
    • exertion
    • making effort
    • steadfastness
    • persistence
    • endeavouring

This is sourced from the Attakārī Sutta: The Self-Doer, AN 6.38 (an English translation from the Pali on Access to Insight). 

As an illustration, imagine entering the London Marathon. Fast forward to race day and the run itself.

    • initiation: when the starter fires the gun, you respond and decide to start moving
    • exertion: you drive forward and start moving your legs
    • making effort: you accelerate up to your normal running speed and into your standard running posture
    • steadfastness: you maintain a steady gait and pace, start to clock up the miles
    • persistence: you tire and start to ache, but keep going 
    • endeavouring: you ‘hit the wall’, but take on energy fluids, rest a while and then keep going, determined to finish.

You complete the race and glow at the achievement; the sense of personal satisfaction is immense on top of the gladness in raising funds for your charity.

The example primarily concerns physical agency, though in the wider context of preparation and training also involves actions in speech and mind.  These activities are permeated by the pervasive digital environment, involving many online interactions such as registration, making purchases, and seeking inspiration and advice in social media. 

Getting ready for and participating in a marathon is usually highly motivated and focused, strengthening agency and increasing confidence in facing the challenges of life, but is this the case for other aspects of a typically busy lifestyle?  When online or plugged in with digital devices, we need to be especially heedful of the mental aspects and be wary of being swept along.

  • Are we making decisions ourselves?
  • Are we attending to tasks promptly or putting things off?
  • Are we thinking things through?
  • Are we evaluating for the long-term as well as short-term?
  • Are we prepared to put in the extra hours to solve problems? 
  • Are we ready for a power cut?
  • Do we have a plan B?
  • What have we really learnt?
  • Are we able to stop and bring our minds to peace and stillness?
  • Are we contented?

Or are we restless, increasingly handing over tasks to some other agent, generative AI, in the hope that it will solve our problems?  With the nature of this technology being all-embracing, there is a potentially huge deleterious impact on cognitive functioning. It could impair human agency to such an extent that we become little more than drones.

Rather than blindly accepting the 'latest and greatest' digital promise, we should always ask: Do we really need it?  Constructively, we can take each of the six characteristics listed in the Attakārī Sutta and simply ask of any proposed technology: Is this likely to enhance or undermine human agency?  To sharpen the focus, ask these questions assuming that the technology is removed after a certain time. What are you left with?

I discuss this further in my short book, Buddhism and Computing: How to Flourish in the Age of Algorithms, and paper, Cultivating sīla Online: the use of Cognitive Interventions in Systems Design.


Monday, May 03, 2021

Now available: Buddhism and Computing

(Subtitle: A milestone is but a beginning)

Buddhism and Computing: front cover

I’m pleased to announce that Buddhism and Computing: How to Flourish in the Age of Algorithms has been released and is now available.

The book marks the culmination of investigations spanning more than a decade, focused on the design of technology that benefits humanity in the long-term.  The enquiries have been primarily from the perspective of Buddhist ethics, but are substantially interdisciplinary, brought together in a way that I hope will foster much-needed dialogue involving everyone.

In that spirit, I'm pleased that the Daily Alternative have published an introductory piece

I very much welcome feedback – comments, reviews, emails, etc.  Please spread the word!

Thank you.

- Paul


Friday, March 26, 2021

Press release: Buddhism and Computing

I am pleased to share the press release for Buddhism and Computing: How to Flourish in the Age of Algorithms (Mud Pie Books), which will be published on 1 May.  

Download the PDF file (or click on the image below).



A few notes are available in a previous blog post.  More to follow.


Friday, December 04, 2020

Forthcoming book: Buddhism and Computing

During the past decade and a half, I have explored a range of topics on this blog relating to Buddhist theory and current practice (e.g., on interventions).  I’m pleased to report that many of these ideas and strands of thought have been distilled in a forthcoming book, Buddhism and Computing, which will be published by Mud Pie Books on 1 May 2021 (pandemic permitting). 

Its chapters are:

  Prologue
  1 Numbers and Computation
  2 Buddhist Ethics
  3 Computers and Intelligence
  4 Modelling Mind and Processes
  5 Designing Sustainable Social Networks
  6 Ensuring Online Safety
  7 Are We Here Yet?
  Epilogue

Being just a small volume, there isn’t space for a comprehensive introduction to Buddhism, but I have tried to provide some of the basics (a great exercise in being concise!).  The application to computing draws on my background in mathematics, computer science and IT. 

We are faced with many concerns about the potential impact of machines and AI for the future of humanity.  They are widely reported in the media, but the responses tend to be focused on particular issues and get immersed in technical and legal details.  So, as a start, we need to create the cognitive space to delve more deeply into the nature of human agency and well-being.  Then we are in a better position to evaluate AI and other advanced technologies.  Everyone should be involved in this process.

The book will be a contribution to the 'Mud Pie Slices' series, where readers can explore many interesting and sometimes unexpected connections that Buddhism offers.  To be informed about Buddhism and Computing and other forthcoming titles, please subscribe to the Mud Pie mailing list.  (Note that after submitting your details through the form, you should receive an email asking for confirmation.)

Several interesting titles are already being lined up…


Sunday, April 12, 2020

Commentarial Illumination on the Karaṇīya Mettā Sutta

[13/4/20: Expanded the final comments with a bit more reflection]
 

Introduction

The Karaṇīya Mettā Sutta is a cherished teaching of the Buddha on loving-kindness, always worth reflecting on, but perhaps more so than ever in the present coronavirus situation.  It's usually recited in translation at meetings of a local Dhamma group.  We use the version produced by the Sangha at Wat Amaravati, but have been aware for some while that there are alternative translations.  So in this post I shall explore a few of the differences and make reference to commentarial literature to see if this can elucidate.

Canonical references 

This teaching appears in the Sutta Nipāta of the Khuddaka Nikāya, the fifth nikāya of the Pali canon.  The Sutta Nipāta has five chapters; the Mettā Sutta appears in the first, the Uragavagga (Chapter on the Serpent).  My main reference source for the Pali original is the Pali Text Society (PTS) edition.  Hence the reference is Sn 1.8 PTS: Sn 143-152.  However, note that there are variants among other editions.

Role or Purpose of the Sutta

Karaṇīya means ‘that ought to be done’; hence ‘Karaṇīya Mettā’ is the mettā that needs to be cultivated.   The sutta is one of several parittas (others include the Mahamangala Sutta and the Ratana Sutta) chanted as a protection – here the cultivation of mettā, a universal virtue, attracts the outward protection of devas.  However, it’s also, perhaps primarily, aimed at being an inner protection – of one’s practice.

Bhikkhu Bodhi has given lectures on these and other teachings in the Sutta Nipata, available from Bodhi monastery.

Sutta Translations

Wat Amaravati’s translation into English on Access To Insight sits alongside others offered by Ven. Ñanamoli, Ven. Buddharakkhita, Ven. Piyadassi and Ven. Thanissaro. Many others have been collated by Leigh Brasington, including Bhikkhu Bodhi’s translation (need to scroll to the right to view many of them).

Seeing some significant differences in the translations, we may look to the Paramatthajotikā, the Commentary to the Sutta Nipāta, to see what light it may shed.  Hence I have used as my main reference Bhikkhu Bodhi’s translation and analysis, The Suttanipāta: An Ancient Collection of the Buddha’s Discourses Together with Its Commentaries.  (Other translations are available.)

To help clarify further, I look at some particular phrases of the original Pali and make use of the Pali Text Society (PTS) Pali-English dictionary, which I have in a single printed volume, but it’s also conveniently available as a searchable index from the University of Chicago's Digital Dictionaries of Asia  and as part of the Digital Pali Reader.

Notes on the Sutta Nipāta

Just a few notes, with reference mainly to Bhikkhu Bodhi’s introduction to his translation of the commnetary. First, what is the significance of this division of material in the canon? 

The PTS Pali-English dictionary states the definition of nipāta as ‘falling (down)’ – as in udabindunipātena, a drop of water falling down, Dh. 121; when prefixed by diṭṭhi it means ' a glance'  (as in another commentarial reference, VvA 279, the Vimanavatthu Atthakatha being Dhammapala’s commentary on stories of the Vimāna, the Sixth Book of the Sutta Pitaka).  It makes me think of the expression, ‘at a glance’, as in “the Buddha’s teachings at a glance…”, which suggests a flavour, a sample.  The Paramatthajotikā seems to indicate that; it opens by saying that “it is so designated because it was recited by compiling suitable suttas from here and there.”  So the suttanipāta is simply a ‘section’ (compilation) of suttas and because it's not arranged in the same deliberate way as other books, I think of ‘cross section’ as in a cross section of society. 

The contents appear to be a mixture of old and new – Bhikkhu Bodhi relates that of the five chapters, the Atthakavagga and the pucchās of the Parayanavagga are extremely old because they are quoted in the Samyutta Nikāya and the Anguttara Nikāya “and evidently existed as collections in their own right before they were integrated into the Sutta Nipāta.”  He further considers that it’s an anthology that “spans several phases of Buddhist literary activity”, reflecting that its eventual form shows systematic re-arrangement from its original smaller core.  Bodhi cites N.A. Jayawickrama for the most thorough attempt to explain the formation of the Sutta Nipāta; Jayawickrama indicates that the Mahamangala Sutta and the Mettā Sutta are younger than the Atthakavagga and the Parayanavagga, but still predate Emperor Asoka. (Among the youngest he takes the Ratana Sutta.)
Furthermore, Bhikkhu Bodhi notes that the Sutta Nipāta appears to be unique to the Theravāda school, which I find surprising.

Commentarial Background

There is much to be learnt in Bhikkhu Bodhi’s discussion of the commentary – its sources, purpose and other useful contextualisation.  For now, I only glean some basic facets.

The commentary to the Khuddaka Nikāya (‘Collection of smaller texts’), the Fifth Book of the Pali Canon is called Paramatthajotikā (paramattha means ‘ultimate sense’, whilst jotikā means ‘explanation, commentary’ derived from jotaka, which means ‘illuminating, making light; explaining’).  It is non-canonical and was probably compiled in the fifth century CE by Buddhaghosa.  Somewhat confusingly, the commentary of the Sutta Nipāta specifically is also called Paramatthajotikā, so in this context it has the suffix ‘II’ and abbreviated as Pj II.   Here, as we are only interested in the one sutta, when we refer to Paramatthajotikā we mean this latter commentary.

The Paramatthajotikā provides background context to the suttas as well as detailed explanations of the texts.  To give some indication of their extent, Bodhi’s translation of the Sutta Nipāta occupies fewer than 200 pages, whereas that of the commentary amounts to just under 1000 pages.  Likewise, the Mettā Sutta is quite short, but its commentary runs in translation to 20 pages,.

It starts with the following background story: it is said that a group of monks, each having received some instruction from the Buddha, had requested venturing elsewhere for the rains retreat.  The request granted, they arrived in unfamiliar territory at the foot of the Himalayas and were welcomed by local villagers, who made kuṭīs (meditation huts) for them, including beds and chairs.  

So the monks prepared themselves to settle.  However, their arrival (and radiance from practice) had displaced the local tree sprites [rukkha devata (‘Earth-bound devas’)?], who were displeased and attacked the bhikkhus through various senses with fearsome visions, sounds, and bad odours until they were so disturbed they had to leave.  Frightened, the monks went to the Buddha for help, seeking somewhere else to stay.  The Buddha indicated they should go back, instructing them in the Mettā Sutta as an antidote for their fear, but also as a meditation subject, indicating that it could help them eliminate the ‘influxes’ (āsavas, I assume). The monks duly returned, recited the sutta, developed the practice, and the sprites, feeling the mettā, were won over and became benevolent to them.

Incidentally, the area is described as blue-green, so it could be in a region known for Tibetan Turquoise Gemstone.


Brief Observations on the Commentary

Here I make reference to Bodhi’s translation, pp. 565 -584.

It’s the first time I recall having read a sutta commentary from start to finish; previously I had looked up occasional references, but never read a commentary in its entirety.  

Bodhi informs us that the first two and a half verses are aimed at the conduct of the forest dwellers (i.e. monks).  The commentary expands on the text to show how it includes instructions on the upholding of the Pāṭimokkha, the monastic rules of training – hence what should be done and what should not be done.

However, Bodhi comments “under the heading of the forest dweller, he has also spoken for all those who have learned a meditation subject and wish to dwell thus."  The Buddha instructs on the development of advanced meditation practice – which is the arguably the real import of the verses – exhorting the practitioners to keep mettā in mind in all four standard postures.  With the words “May all beings be happy and secure”, he begins to discuss loving-kindness both as a protective device for dispelling the peril from those deities and as a meditative subject for attaining jhāna to be used as the basis for insight.

The commentary concludes:
Having developed loving-kindness as they were taught, those bhikkhus took it as a basis, aroused insight, and within that three-month period all attained arahantship, the foremost fruit.  They then held the great Pavarana ceremony in purity…

In terms of style, I note:
  • The commentary is exegesis, i.e. a scholarly critical analysis of the text drawing on various sources and looking at the structure of the text and then its meaning.  So, I imagine Buddhaghosa in a large library with various accounts at his disposal, mainly provided by monastic colleagues.  
  • So this is not a definitive account, but rather one than reads like: “One account says, whilst another says…” Likewise, in terms of the text, a number of alternative explanations are offered, some with extensive details 

Some Phrases

Now we examine a few points of difference or refinements in translation between Bhikkhu Bodhi and Amaravati (abbreviated by ‘B’ and ‘A’ respectively) and ask: What light do the commentaries shed on the meaning of these particular phrases?  As this is a very popular sutta, there is much discussion, even on how to do the translation; there’s an interesting thread on Sutta Central.)

143. yaṃ taṃ santaṃ padaṃ abhisamecca
A: And who knows the path of peace
[later versions replace ‘knows’ by ‘seeks’]
B: [One] Having made the breakthrough to that peaceful state

abhisamecca comes from abhisamāgacchati, which the PTS dictionary defines as ‘to come to (understand) completely, to grasp fully, to master’.

The commentary explains that this is concerning one who wishes to really know that breakthrough to that peaceful state which is nibbāna – whether they have only an aspiration or already possess some mundane understanding and not yet achieved it.  So Bodhi’s translation appears to be correct, but it  sounds less elegant, but substituting ‘seeks’ for ‘knows’ loses the sense of knowing that is in the text.  

Given that the recitation is for those who have yet to reach nibbāna and as I like the rhythm of the first, I think it may suffice to insert a few words: 

>> ‘And who would [come to] fully know that state of peace:’


143. sūvaco cassa
A: “Straightforward and gentle in speech”
B: “Amenable to advice”

[PTS offers for suvaca: 'gentle speech', but also 'obedient; meek; compliant' (see subbaca); the ū is just an alternative to u]

The commentary explains that this means they welcome and encourage criticism based on observation from the wise, so Bodhi’s interpretation again appears correct, especially as the commentary makes clear that this revolves around monastic instruction.

But it’s simpler and more generally appealing to say: “easy to speak to” 


144. appagabbho kul-esva-nanu-giddho
A: “Not proud or demanding in nature”
B: “courteous, without greed when among families”

The commentary explains that this instruction concerns the monks' almsrounds, specifically when they enter people’s homes.  It means not becoming attached to their concerns, nor being covetous for requisites.  It makes sense in the monastic context, but for the general reader it’s cumbersome and potentially confusing for householders.  In coming up with some alternative, we need to convey the sense that the monastics mustn’t become lax or allow themselves to become spoilt by enthusiastic lay supporters, but try to come up with some other expression.  I like the word 'demanding', so wonder about:

>>  Not demanding of hospitality.


146.  Ye keci pāṇa bhūtatthi 
tasā vā thāvarā vā ...

Whatever living beings … 
A: Whether they are weak or strong...
B: Whether frail or firm...

The translations are comparable, but I wasn't sure of the meanings.  The commentary explains:
  • Frail: those that tremble (or thirst), i.e. those with craving and fear – arahants are those who stand firm
A bit further down we have the terms .
  • avidūre (‘near’): those beings dwelling within one’s body / vicinity / monastery … world sphere
  • dūre (‘far’): those beings dwelling outside one’s body …
Those are relatively straightforward alternative explanations.  More complex ones are offered for bhūta (‘born’) and sambhavesī (‘to be born’).  One interpretation is:
  • ‘those born’ = “those who have come to be”, but won’t be reborn, i.e. arahats
  • ‘those to be born’ = those who will be reborn, i.e. not arahats; 
Another one reads:
  • ‘those born’ = “those who have emerged" (and similarly for 3 other modes of birth such as spontaneously arising beings
  • ‘those to be born' = those who have yet to emerge from womb or shell.

146. Dīghā vā ye mahantā vā
majjhamā rassakāṇukathūlā,

A: The great or the mighty, medium, short or small
B: Those that are long or those that are large, middling, short, fine or gross

The commentary indicates that the last characteristic ('small' or 'fine') mean too subtle to be discerned with the physical eye.  Small conveys a sense of dimension, but some beings may be quite voluminous, but may have subtle bodies, so escape detection, so Bodhi is again more accurate with what he writes.  As I like the rhythm of Amaravati's translation, I suggest:

>>  The great or the mighty, medium, short, fine or gross 

149. niyaṃ puttaṃ āyusā ekaputtam
A: “Her child, her only child”
B: “Her son, her only son.”

Bhikkhu Bodhi generally gives a more literal translation, reflecting the views of the society, but Amaravati's still valid according to the Pali and makes perfect sense.

150. asambādhaṃ a-veraṃ-asapattaṃ.
A: “Freed from hatred and ill-will”
B: “without enmity, without adversaries”

The commentary explains ‘without adversaries’ as “the absence of hostile persons; for a person who dwells in loving-kindness is dear to humans, dear to non-humans and there is no one hostile to him.”

There is wonderful ambiguity; it seems that asapattaṃ has both meanings, i.e. by being friendly, one harbours no ill feelings and at the same time receives none.  'Free from ill-will' covers both senses and could stand alone.  The first translation sounds natural, so I choose to stick to it.

152. Diṭṭhiñ ca anupagamma ... nahi jātu gabbhaseyyaṃ punaretīti
A: “By not holding to fixed views… [one] is not born again into this world”
B: “Not taking up any views …one never comes back into the bed of a womb.”

The Pali for anupagamma breaks down to an-upa-gamma, hence not resting (or holding) on views. I''m not sure about the insertion of 'fixed', but the qualification makes sense from the commentary, which explains that it means to have a proper detached view of nāmarūpa (name and form, i.e. the khandas).  For the last clause, Bodhi's translation is again the literally correct one and I think it may be better to follow this, hence:

>>   [one] is not born again into the womb.”


The Sutta Central discussion thread raises a further issue concerning lines where there seems to be agreement, but the translation is actually wrong.

One case that I’m persuaded by is to change:

148. Na paro paraṃ nikubbetha
“Let none deceive another”
to
“Let none put down another”

The nikubbetha is from nikaroti [Sk. nikaroti, ni+karoti] and the PTS defines this as “to bring down, humiliate, to deceive, cheat”.  

Just by reasoning that when not practising mettā, there is separative tendencies come to the fore; there is usually comparison that leads to differentiation and dislike, hence people put down (and look down on) others.  The sense of deception doesn’t make sense in the context of the story.

Final Comments

I've found the commentary provided by the Paramatthajotikā on the Metta Suttā informative; knowing the background to a teaching certainly helps to draw out some of the meaning.  In his translation, Bhikkhu Bodhi has been once again exceedingly helpful to make this more accessible and I start to get a feel for how the commentarial tradition has become firmly established in Buddhist lands.

Buddhaghosa’s ability to analyse and categorise, epitomised in the Abhidhamma, is evident here.  Yet one may cultivate mettā very simply and describe it simply too: like the sun emerging from a cloud it radiates brightly in every direction.

The Buddha taught that our object of meditation must be kept within "this fathom-long body".  If we, as it were, put the sun inside ourselves and it becomes our sun, then we should know its centre and hence our centre.  Furthermore, we might imagine that for it to shine to maximum effect, the body should become transparent, crystalline. 

One doesn’t have to be Buddhist to practice.  In my walks in the locality, I’ve often come across a man called Felix, whom I regard as a modern day sramana (wanderer).  Appearing calm and content within himself, he is articulate about his own spiritual outlook on life developed over the years.  He said to me that if one radiates happiness and friendliness, people will almost invariably respond positively.  It’s mettā that he is describing and he practices well.

Whilst I've learnt from the accuracy of Bhikkhu Bodhi's more literal translation, it's the rhythm and quality of naturalness that I especially appreciate in the Amaravati Sangha's rendering, so I think I will stick with that version for now.

Finally, as a wonderful manifestation of the sutta's universality, Ven. Dhammarakkhita has provided a translation into Arabic



Sunday, May 26, 2019

Aspects of nibbāna from a lecture by Bhikkhu Bodhi (1979)

[31 May 2019] Updated to try to clarify opening sentences.
[6 July 2019] Added an early version of the fable about the fish and the turtle.

In my exploration of intuition, I became fascinated by its role in Srinivasa Ramanujan's work in mathematics; he developed it in his spiritual practice with utmost commitment, which was rewarded by extraordinary discoveries.  Accounts of his animation philosophical discussions addressed the Absolute in Brahmanism, as the ultimate source for his results, thereby endowing a very positive outlook.

In Buddhism, there is the term nibbāna, which literally means 'without fuel [of craving]', and at first glance seems quite the opposite perspective, but its attainment may likewise be viewed positively as a transcendent state with supreme qualities - in which the Buddha is, for instance, 'Well-gone' and 'Knower of the worlds' (see e.g. the daily chant, iti pi so).

It can be a wonderful perspective to reflect on, to turn the mind to 'the deathless', especially when the path becomes difficult with its various obstacles.  So here I've transcribed a portion of a talk by Ven. Bhikkhu Bodhi, a most distinguished scholar monk, responsible for many authoritative translations, particularly for the Buddhist Publication Society and Wisdom Publications.  Bhikkhu Bodhi originally delivered this presentation as Lecture No. 6: nibbāna from a series in autumn 1979 at the Washington Buddhist Vihara and then, at the request of Bhante Gunaratna, recorded the series in the summer of 1981 for distribution on tape, which were subsequently digitised and the audio made available online by Bodhi Monastery.

This lecture has since been summarised and appeared in various places, sometimes with further editing, e.g. at Wisdom Quarterly, and portions have been  frequently quoted, e.g. on Dhamma Wheel.  But the summary paraphrases, omits some passages and contains some slight changes in meaning.   Whilst it makes the presentation more suitable for print, it still lacks references that were missing from the original lecture audio, though in his talk Bhikkhu Bodhi mentions a list of terms, which I guess was originally part of a handout that might have included the references.  So I decided to carry out a transcription of a chunk of about 20 minutes, and to make explicit as many of these references as I can, with links to translations, where available, by Bhikkhu Bodhi.

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In his Dhamma talk, Bhikkhu Bodhi opens with the vandana, homage to the Buddha, by chanting "Namo tassa bhagavato arahato samma sambuddhasa”, as part of the customary veneration.  Then, briefly, he introduces this talk in the context of the series, by saying that so far the previous talks have dealt primarily with the problem of suffering, but suffering is only the starting point, and the truth of suffering represents the negative side.  In this talk and the following one he deals with the positive side, the third and fourth Noble Truth.

However, before doing so he reminds his listeners that we have to know about suffering to give us a reason to seek liberation and urgently, hence using the imagery of escaping a house on fire, the fire representing greed, hatred and delusion fuelled by flames of craving.

We now join shortly before the 12 minute mark, where Bhikkhu Bodhi relates this to nibbāna, discussing the psychological dimension.  (My insertions are generally in green inside square brackets [].)

Transcription

[11.40] “The word nirvana [Sanskrit] or nibbāna [Pali] literally means 'the going out or extinguishing of a flame'.  And thus used figuratively by the Buddha, it means the extinguishing of the flame of craving, the extinguishing of the fires of greed, hatred and delusion.  The Pali writers also take the word to have the meaning of 'escape from the forest', that is escape from the forest of craving, or from the forest of Samsaric becoming.  The state of nibbāna is the ultimate goal of the Buddhist path, the end and the transformation of the entire practice.

The Buddha says that just as the waters of a river plunge into the ocean and merge with the ocean, so the spiritual path, the Noble Eightfold Path, plunges into nibbāna and merges with nibbāna.
[This might combine multiple references; the idea is expressed in slightly different words in the Daruka-khandha Sutta (the Simile of the Great Log), SN 35:200 (241) and the wording is from the Rādhasaṃyutta of the Saṃyutta Nikāya, SN 23:1(1), where the Venerable Rādha asks a series of incremental questions, finally concerning nibbāna, to which the Buddha states “the holy life is merged in nibbāna, its consummation is nibbāna, its culmination is nibbāna."]

Now when we try to talk about nibbāna, we immediately come up against the problem that nibbāna is said to be “beyond the range of speech and language”, [atakkāvacara – beyond logical reasoning].  nibbāna is a supermundane state, a reality which is to be seen, realized and experienced, not a concept to be conceptualised or an idea to be discussed.  Ultimately, nibbāna should be experienced and realized.  However, to make known the nature of nibbāna, we have to resort to words, we have to speak about it and therefore this lecture becomes possible.  If we were to really give a very direct communication of the nature of nibbāna, we just have to stop the lecture at this point, but then those who are listening would be disappointed.  So therefore I shall have to go on to speak, to fill up the rest of the tape.

nibbāna is an existing reality

Now the question comes up as to the nature of nibbāna and especially the question is asked: Does nibbāna signify only the extinction of the defilements and liberation from samsara or does it signify some reality existing in itself? According to the Theravada School of Buddhism, which I see to be solidly grounded in the actual word of the Buddha, nibbāna is not only the destruction of defilements and the ending of samsara but an actually existing reality, a reality which is transcendent to all the realms of phenomenal existence, to the entire empirical world of mundane experience.

There are certain reasons which can be offered in support of this view.  Here I don't wish to burden anybody with dry scholarship, but a look at the texts, at the suttas spoken by the Buddha, can help clarify for us our idea of what nibbāna is.  (This part might be a little bit dry, a little bit at times difficult to follow, but I ask the listeners to try to follow it, even if they have to repeat the tape.)

In the suttas we find that there are certain key words that the Buddha uses to designate existing realities.  These you can call 'ontological terms', terms with an existential meaning.  These key terms are the words dhamma, āyatana, dhātu, pada and sacca.  (The words are given on the list of Pali terms.)

We'll explain these words briefly and then show how each of them is applied to nibbāna.  First we'll take the word 'dhamma'.   We have dealt with this word and some of its more common meanings, such as 'the teaching of the Buddha', as 'the truth made known by the Buddha', and as 'the path that leads to the realization of truth.'

But this word 'dhamma' also has a more philosophical meaning. The word 'dhamma' signifies the basic actuality, the existing realities, those things which bear their own natures independent of our thinking, of our conceptual processing of them.  The dhammas are distinguished from conceptual entities – those things which do not exist in fact, but only as ideas or notions in the mind.  Now all the dhammas, the actual existences, are divided into two basic groups: the conditioned and the unconditioned, sankhata and asankhata.  A conditioned dhamma is an actuality which has come into being through causes and conditions, something which arises through the working of various conditions.  The conditioned dhammas include all the phenomena with which we are ordinarily familiar. These all fall into the five aggregates.  So any conditioned dhamma is either a material form, a feeling, a perception, a mental formation or an act of consciousness. 

Now all the conditioned dhammas go through three phases of becoming.  First there's the phase of arising [uppāda], then finally a phase of falling away, cessation [vaya], and in between the two there's a phase called ṭhitassa aññathatta, that is, the changing of that which stands, the transformation of that which persists, that is, while the conditioned dhamma lasts, while it persists, it undergoes constant change.  It doesn't remain static, but it undergoes transformation.  It's in a ceaseless process of becoming.   So the conditioned dhamma has these three phases: arising, transformation, and falling away.

Now in contrast to all of the conditioned dhammas, there is the class of the unconditioned, which is much simpler.  It contains only one actuality, that is: nibbāna.  In contrast to the conditioned, the unconditioned is not produced by causes and conditions.  And then, in contrast to the conditioned, the unconditioned has the three opposite marks, that is: it has no arising, it has no falling away, and it undergoes no transformation.

And the Buddha speaks distinctly of nibbāna as a dhamma.  He calls it 'the supreme dhamma', the 'uttamaŋ dhamma'.    And in one sutta he says, “Of all dhammas, conditioned and unconditioned, the most excellent dhamma, the supreme dhamma, is nibbāna.”  [Anguttara Nikaya, Sutta 4:34: ConfidenceSo nibbāna is definitely referred to by this key ontological term of Buddhism, the word, dhamma.

[There is also:
“To whatever extent there are phenomena conditioned or unconditioned, dispassion is declared the foremost among them, that is, the crushing of pride, the removal of thirst, … , the destruction of craving, dispassion, cessation, nibbāna.”  
Ratana Sutta, Sn 2.1]

Another important ontological term used by the Buddha is āyatana.  This word usually means 'realm', 'plane', or 'sphere'.  For example, the Buddha speaks about the different planes of existence as āyatanas and he also speaks about the six sense faculties as the six āyatanas.  In a famous passage from the text, the Udāna, the Buddha also speaks about nibbāna as an āyatana.  He says,

“Monks, there is a realm (atti tadāyatanaṃ) where there is neither earth, water, heat or air, neither the sphere of infinite space, the sphere of infinite consciousness, the sphere of nothingness, or the sphere of neither perception or non-perception [that is the four formless realms].  There is neither this world nor any other world, neither sun nor moon.  This I call 'neither arising, nor passing away, neither standing still, nor being born, nor dying.'  There is neither foothold there, nor development, nor any basis.  This is the end of suffering.”

So we see then in this passage the Buddha speaks of nibbāna as an āyatana, a realm or sphere.  It is a sphere where there is nothing at all that corresponds to our world of mundane common experience and therefore it has to be described entirely by way of negatives, as the negation of all finite properties.

Another word frequently used in the Buddha's discourses is the word 'dhātu'.  This word most often means 'element'. Thus the Buddha speaks of the four dhātus, the four material elements: earth, water, heat and air. At other times he speaks of 18 elements: the six sense organs, the six sense objects and the six kinds of consciousness.   But the Buddha also speaks of another dhātu, another element.  He calls this the amata dhātu, that is the deathless element and this deathless element is nibbāna.

Thus in one sutta he speaks about a monk who has reached the highest level in the development of insight, where he is seeing all of the five aggregates as impermanent, as dukkha, and as insubstantial.  Then, when he reaches the climax of insight, his mind suddenly turns away from all conditioned dhammas and he says that he focuses his mind upon the deathless element and that with his mind focused on the deathless element he reaches the destruction of the defilements. [MN 64: Mahamalunkyaputta Sutta]

In another sutta, the Buddha speaks of the nibbāna dhātu, the element of nibbāna.  And he compares it to an ocean.   He says that just as the great ocean remains at the same level no matter how much water pours into it from the rivers, it remains at the same height, without increase or decrease, so the nibbāna element remains the same no matter whether many or few people attain nibbāna. If many people attain nibbāna, the nibbāna element doesn't grow fuller; if few attain, the nibbāna element doesn't become diminished.  [Pahārāda Sutta, AN 8.19,  clause (5).]

And the Buddha speaks quite concretely about seeing nibbāna, the deathless element, almost as though it were the object of an act of vision. 

In another sutta he speaks of it as something that can be experienced by the body, an experience that's so vivid, so concrete and real that it can be described as 'touching the deathless element with one's own body'. [Cunda Sutta, AN 6.46]

The Buddha also speaks about nibbāna as a pada.  The word 'pada' means 'a state', and the Buddha calls nibbāna the amatapada, 'the deathless state'.  Thus he states in the Dhammapada, “Better than living a hundred years without seeing the deathless state is living one day seeing the deathless state.”
[Dhammapada 114]

Another word used in the texts is sacca.  This word means 'truth', not 'truth' as a statement, but truth as reality, as an existing reality.  There's a passage where the Buddha says, “That which the ignorant take to be true, that the Noble Ones, the Ariyans, know to be false.  That which the Ariyans know to be true, that the ignorant regard as false.  That which is of an imperishable nature, that is nibbāna, and that is the truth known by the Ariyans.”
[Perhaps this paraphrases verses in the Dvayatānupassanā sutta (Observation of Dualities), Sn 3.12].

So here in this passage that which the ignorant take to be truth, to be real, is a self, an ego entity and this the Ariyans know to be false since through their insight they have realized that all phenomena are without a self, that they're all insubstantial.  And that which the Noble Ones know to be truth, that is nibbāna, and this the ignorant take to be false, an imaginary thing or a vain notion.   But the Noble Ones, the Ariyans, have seen nibbāna, they've known through direct experience that it is real, the one ultimate reality that's imperishable. 

In another sutta, the Buddha says, “That which has a perishable nature, that is false, but that which is of an imperishable nature [accutapada], namely nibbāna, that is truth.  And then he says in the same sutta that this is the supreme noble truth, nibbāna, which is of an imperishable nature.  [ref.  ???]

So all of these textual sources, put together, I think, very clearly establish the view that nibbāna is an actual reality and not the mere destruction of defilements, the cessation of existence. 

Then there's also another famous passage, which, I think, also makes the matter very definitely clear.   This is the passage in the Udāna, where the Buddha says, addressing the monks:

“Monks, there is an unborn, an unoriginated, an uncreated, an unconditioned.  If there were not this unborn, unoriginated, uncreated, unconditioned, there would be no escape possible from the world of the born, the originated, the created, and conditioned.  However, since there is an unborn, unoriginated, uncreated, unconditioned, therefore escape is possible from the world of the born, the originated, the created, the conditioned.
[Nibbāna Sutta: Parinibbāna Ud. 8.3]

The Buddha here is saying that if there were no unconditioned reality, there would be no escape possible from the round of birth and death. The round of birth and death would go on forever; there would be no way at all to put an end to it.  But the Buddha adds the positive counterpart to it.  He says that there is, that there already exists an unborn, unoriginated, uncreated, unconditioned and therefore it is possible for the mind to know the unconditioned, to realize the unconditioned and by realizing the unconditioned to destroy the ignorance and craving which hold us in bondage, and thereby make an end to the round of becoming and reach deliverance from birth and death, deliverance from the world of the born, originated, created, and conditioned. 

Now since nibbāna is the precondition for this liberation to take place, since nibbāna must exist for it to be known and for liberation to take place, therefore it is evident that nibbāna cannot simply be reduced to the destruction of the defilements and liberation from the round.  Those events are conditioned events, they occur in time, while nibbāna is unconditioned, without any origination, timeless.

Is nibbāna conditioned by its path?

Now one particular problem that's sometimes raised over the statement that nibbāna is unconditioned.  It's said that it seems contradictory to say that nibbāna is unconditioned and yet by practising the path you attain nibbāna.  Doesn't this seem to make nibbāna something that's conditioned by the practice of the path, something that's produced by the path?   Doesn't nibbāna become an effect, something not unconditioned, not causeless?

Here the contradiction is only apparent: nibbāna itself – we have to make a distinction between nibbāna itself and the attainment of nibbānanibbāna itself is unproduced, unoriginated, it's always existent. But by following the path, by reaching Enlightenment, you realize nibbāna.  By practising the path you don't bring nibbāna into existence, but rather you discover something already existing, something always present. We can say the attainment of nibbāna, the realization of nibbāna, is produced by the practice of the path.  But this doesn't mean that nibbāna itself is brought into being by the path.

We can illustrate this by an analogy.  The city of New York is presently existing and there are highways leading into New York from all over the country.  By driving along the highway you can reach New York and enter the city.  We can't say that New York itself is produced by travelling along the highway.  Rather, the highway gives us entrance to New York; by travelling along the highway we can enter New York.  Similarly, the path leads to nibbāna; by following the path you reach Enlightenment and that brings the realization of nibbāna, but nibbāna itself is not created by the path."

[31:00]
END of transcription.

Bhikkhu Bodhi then proceeds to consider some of the terms and expressions used in the text as designations for nibbāna.  He also includes a nice story of a turtle and a fish (at about [34:00]) to indicate that nibbāna is not annihilation or non-existence.  I can't find any canonical reference.  It seems to be a version of a fable, originally presented in English by Bhikkhu Silacara in his book The Four Noble Truths, one of a series on Buddhism (at archive.org) published in 1922.  I reproduce it here:
Once upon a time there was a fish. And just be cause it was a fish, it had lived all its life in the water and knew nothing whatever about anything else but water. And one day as it swam about the pond where all its days had been spent, it happened to meet a turtle of its acquaintance who had just come back from a little excursion on the land.
  "Good day, Mr. Turtle" said the fish; "I have not seen you for a long time. Where have you been?"
  "Oh!" said the turtle, "I've just been for a little trip on dry land."
  "On dry land!" exclaimed the fish. "What do you mean by on dry land? There is no 'dry land'. I never met such a thing. Dry land is nothing."
  "Well," said the turtle good-naturedly, "if you want to think so, of course you may; there's no one can hinder you. But that's where I've been, all the same."
  "O come," said the fish, "try to talk sense. Just tell me now: what is this land of yours like? Is it at all wet?"
  "No, it is not wet," said the turtle.
  "Is it nice and fresh and cold?" asked the fish.
  "No, it is not nice and fresh and cold," the turtle replied.
  "Is it clear, so that light can come through it?"
  "No, it is not clear; light cannot come through it."
  "Is it soft and yielding so that I could move my fins about in it and push my nose through it?"
  "No, it is not soft and yielding; you could not swim in it."
  "Does it move or flow in streams?"
  "No, it neither moves nor flows in streams."
  "Does it ever rise up into waves, then, with white foam on them? asked the fish, becoming just a little impatient at this string of "Noes".
  "No," replied the turtle truthfully, "it never rises up into waves that I have seen."
  "There now!" exclaimed the fish triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you that this land of yours was just nothing? 1 have just asked, and you have answered me that it is neither wet nor cool, nor clear nor soft, and that it doesn't flow in streams nor rise up into waves. And if it isn t a single one of these things and can t do any of these things, what else is it but nothing ? Don't tell me!"
  "Well, well," said the turtle, "if you are determined to think that dry land is nothing, I suppose you must just go on thinking so. But anyone who knows what is water and what is land would say you were just a very silly fish, for you think that anything you have never known, just because you have never known it, is therefore nothing."
And with that the turtle turned away and, leaving the fish behind in its little pond of water, set out on another excursion over the land that was "nothing".
 

Reflections

I personally find these accounts of the positive aspects of nibbāna, as presented by Bhikkhu Bodhi, very inspiring.  And there's the prospect of more not just in the Pali canon; comparative analysis of Theravadin and Mahayana canons, which are derived from different schools, have each undergone different editorial processes involving revisions and omissions, and may well yield further examples.

Some scholars and practitioners, particularly Theravadins in the West, express a very minimal characterisation of nibbāna as the culmination of a process to eradicate defilements and uproot craving; they may say that all that subjectively remains on completion of the Path is experience.  They're not motivated to hear and even show antipathy to hearing more than that and argue that it would be a distraction.  I sense that underlying this resistance are perspectives confining attā and anatttā to the khandhas.  But the texts contain pointers beyond the khandhas; I have found, as did the Pali scholar, I. B. Horner, that this topic really merits further exploration.

I feel there is an imperative to explore these topics in the context of artificial intelligence, especially the 'strong AI hypothesis'.  I've been exploring aspects of nibbāna motivated by the wish to articulate the distinctness of human beings from machines.  Humans have the potential to attain to nibbāna, which is the source of ultimate wisdom, but machines, being conditioned, do not.  However, that distinction is hard to draw without a clear sense of transcendence being communicated in a constructive way.


Thursday, January 10, 2019

A Rare Opportunity: On ‘Buddhism and Pali’


There's a new book that I'd like to introduce:

Buddhism and Pali (front cover)
Cover for 'Buddhism and Pali' (from mudpiebooks.com)

A little over 10 years ago I had the good fortune to study under Professor Richard Gombrich at the OCBS Pali Summer School of 2008.  I subsequently used the knowledge gained to read and translate from the Pali some passages in the Theravada Buddhist canon as part of my Master’s thesis.   So, I was pleased to see the publication of Prof. Gombrich’s latest book, Buddhism and Pali.

In this post I offer some thoughts about the material - they're more ad hoc responses to some ideas put forth than a book review because I’m not qualified to assess the finer points of linguistics.

Introduction

The title of this post is quoted from page 8 of Gombrich’s ‘Buddhism and Pali’, where the author indicates why, despite being somewhat sceptical about its appeal to members of the public, he decided to go ahead and write this small volume: he sees its potential to raise awareness about the far-reaching significance of Pali.  I think he went ahead because he is a believer!  That is, he truly believes in the importance of the Buddha as a historical figure, in the value of his teachings, particularly for the depth of the philosophy, and in the necessity of knowing Pali as the means to properly access that knowledge and interpret it accurately.

I remember maybe 20 years ago hearing about the Jesus Seminar and its efforts to determine the historicity of Jesus and what could be reliably attributed to him.  It seems that in recent years this kind of approach has been attempted in respect of the Buddha Gotama, leading to similar results, where some academics deny that the canonical texts can be attributed to the Buddha himself and hence cast all kinds of doubt on the material.  As someone who is interested in Buddhist texts primarily as a practitioner, I’ve always felt that these kinds of scholarly views are rooted in a kind of hindrance, specifically sceptical doubt (Pali: vicikicchā - for the definition, I'm linking through to an online edition of the Pali Text Society's Pali-English dictionary).

So I naturally welcomed this new book, which constructs an argument, mainly linguistic, but backed up by cultural, historical and other observations, that shows how Pali could in fact be the language the Buddha actually used in his teachings across a vast swathe of what we now refer to as India.  As a scholar specialising in Indo-Aryan languages over his long career, Gombrich is sensitive to various issues that need to be addressed, especially concerning matters such as the integrity of texts and their preservation.

The book itself comprises four chapters and I’ll briefly introduce them and pick up on points I found interesting.

1. Pali in History

In the first chapter, Gombrich sets the scene, indicating the current use of Pali in the canon of the Theravada School of Buddhism, how it was essentially a language of recitation used by monks and nuns to maintain the teachings.  He then traces its linguistic history back to a few centuries BCE, showing in particular how it relates to Sanskrit.  The book is concise and succinct, making it easy to digest and follow the lines of thought.  Thus, we have a nice overview of the history of the Buddha, the geography of India and the modes of usage of Pali, especially among monastics.  Then the ancestry of Pali is outlined in three steps, altogether covering a single page.  So it’s a kind of primer, with some footnotes provided for further exploration.

Being condensed, many points are made only briefly. One of the first to catch my eye was that the word phāsa (p.11), which means ‘language’, was originally attached to ‘Pāli’ .  The same word has been brought into Thai (phāsa is rendered as ภาษา, hence ภาษาไทย). In fact, Thai has incorporated many such ‘loan words’ from Pali and Sanskrit, but also from many other languages (its influences are complex)!

The transmission of the Buddha’s teachings was initially an oral tradition, only later written down, typically on palm leaves.  We may take writing for granted now, but (I didn't see this mentioned by Gombrich) one doesn’t have to go back very far to find practitioners who did not make use of written texts.  For example, the founder of Wat Phra Dhammakaya on the outskirts of Bangkok was an illiterate nun, Khun Yay Upasika Chandra Khonnokyoong.

It's remarkable that the texts have been handed down over the centuries with hardly any corruption.  Gombrich uses his philological expertise to cleverly argue how Pali has been preserved and evolved for a variety of pragmatic and conventional reasons, usually under the influence of Sanskrit, but used in a distinct way; its distinction arising because it is an artifice - a vehicle for transmission that needs careful memorisation, but also reflects adaptation to local environments.  He makes the argument easier to follow by comparison with the use of the English language, which he furnishes with examples.

In passing, he also makes the point that the teachings tell us that all this is subject to impermanence and will eventually perish.  From a professional perspective, as another aside, I wonder about the digital context, where we can easily replicate data in the Cloud and ensure integrity using checksums.   Well, checksums are themselves subject to bit rot (corruption) and according to Buddhist cosmology our world and many realms above eventually get destroyed, so that would include all the data centres in the Cloud and in clouds!

I find conservative Gombrich’s statement that “as far as we know” Theravada Buddhism was confined in its first millennium to India and Sri Lanka (p. 22): I am persuaded by the thesis proposed by Lewis Lancaster in the Maritime Buddhism Project that traders carried religious practices across South and South-East Asia much earlier (e.g., across the Bay of Bengal, the Andaman Sea, through the Malacca Strait, and up to the South China Sea).  Collaborative research is ongoing to form an electronic atlas.  Whilst the picture is patchy, there is significant archaeological evidence - for example, in Thailand, as reported by Suchandra and Lipi Ghosh,  excavations have unearthed objects with Buddhist inscriptions (in Pali or Hybrid Pali and Sanskrit) dated to the Dvāravatī period that have strong associations with the sea: such as amulets, carried by seafaring merchants to ensure a safe voyage and even images of Buddha Dipankara calming the waves.  I also asked my uncle, Sean Trafford, who spent his working life at sea, much of it in and around SE Asia, and he found the thesis credible.

Perhaps the first intimation I received of such early connections for Thailand was a visit to Phra Pathom Chedi in 1988, which I subsequently wrote about as one of my first articles on the Web.   A traditional overview of how Buddhism came to Thailand was compiled by Ven. Dr. Saddhatissa  There is, of course, a large gap between the time of Emperor Ashoka and the mid first millennium C.E., but it’s narrowing - see e.g. Stephen A. Murphy and Miriam T. Stark’s introduction to period transitions. (Coincidentally, one of my cousins has just started her first year as an undergraduate in the Faculty of Archaeology at Silapakorn University, so I may get to hear about further developments!)

2. The Linguistic Character of Pali

The second chapter - on ‘The Linguistic Character of Pali’ - is the most technical.  It contains material that is second nature to the author, so it’s both easy for him to spell out and difficult for him to gauge how accessible it might be for the reader.  For anyone who has made an initial attempt to learn the language it’s a useful refresher of the main concepts, but others may well observe the guidance, thoughtfully inserted, to just read some of the more general remarks.

These include the use of verse, which I tend not to give much attention to, even though I frequently come across them in sutta study; although the texts are largely prose, verses do feature.  My appreciation and understanding of verse is limited, but some while ago I became keen to learn the meaning of a daily chant called 'A Buddha Prayer Song', so eventually I produced a translation, aided by Thai friends.  It was an example of prosody, so I was pleased to learn more about the metrical structure of such verse. 

3. Pali Prose Style

In the third chapter - on ‘Pali Prose Style’ - Gombrich discusses how its style was especially shaped by the oral tradition.  He also explores the question of how the oral transmission has been so efficient, with some corroboration from neuroscience and illustrations from other disciplines such as music.  There are practical strategies indicated for memorisation such as the division of labour and Gombrich indicates how the Buddhist Councils have helped ensure their preservation.

He goes on to use a linguistic argument based on an incremental style of prose, where words are successively augmented - in length and meaning.  When considered from the view of the practice, we find that the experience is often of gradual development, gradual evolution and progression, so to record this it is fitting to choose words that reflect this in structure and meaning.  This insight helps in the validation of texts, i.e. there is scope for validation through practice. This is particularly the case when undertaking a practice with a sequence of steps, as exemplified by the Ratha-vinita Sutta  (Relay Chariots, translation by Thanissaro Bhikkhu).

Gombrich takes as an example (pp. 57-61) the homage (vandanā) in the iti pi so formula, which is a standard recitation in Pali chanting.  I think it’s an ambitious choice because it’s very condensed with meaning at mundane and supramundane levels, but I think through meticulous analysis he arrives at a sensible interpretation, showing the value of a proper understanding of Pali - it makes rational sense.

However, the scholarly method follows a particular intellectual discipline, so the result is often carefully couched and sometimes speculative; perhaps its deeper meaning cannot be convincingly made by linguistics alone.  In particular, whilst Gombrich also makes the important point that the text carries with it an injunction, of ‘ought’, scholarship doesn’t necessarily bring about this ‘ought’ response, i.e. "Right, let’s undertake the practice!"  To me it seldom is that compelling.  Even from the perspective of practice, it still is a matter of interpretation dependent on view (diṭṭhi) and according to the path (magga) taken.  However, to some extent the words can help to validate practice, so it works both ways.  

Indeed, the linguistic reading can lead on to practice and I’ll try to illustrate this by focusing on the ‘ought’, drawing on the Dhammakaya tradition to which I belong.  I’ll start by making the assertion that the presentation style of a practitioner can be more persuasive about the ‘ought’.  I think especially of the late Chao Khun Phramongkolthepmuni, the re-discoverer of this practice.  When he was delivering sermons as Abbot of Wat Paknam Bhasicharoen in Thailand he spoke with a directness and assuredness that arose from meditation experience.  His audience was roused in large numbers over the years and it came about as the audience engaged a different mode of listening and interpreting, through the citta, a Pali word that I would render along the lines of “heart-mind”, to distinguish it from the brain alone. 

The Chao Khun explained every word in the iti pi so, and gave the formula a sense of direction reflecting investigation within what the Buddha referred to as “this fathom-long body” (Rohitassa Sutta).  I summarise the respective interpretations in a table as follows:

TermGombrichDhammakaya traditionComment (Dhammakaya)
svākkhatowell-taughtwell-taught
BhagavatāBlessed OneBlessed OneBecause the Buddha is breaker of the wheel of Samsara
DhammoTeachingDhammaTeaching (mundane) and Truth as supramundane reality
sanditthikopracticalto be seenDirectly observable
akālikoimmediatetimeless and ever-presentWhether there are Buddhas in the world or not, the Path to Enlightenment lies open, all the same
ehipassikoCome and seeCome and see
opanāyikousefulleading inwardsthe operative mode is given by phrases such as kāye kāyānupassī, ‘contemplating body in body’ in accordance with the Middle Way
paccattamindividually, by oneselfindividually, by oneself
veditabboo be understoodto be realizeddirectly, not just intellectually
viññuhiby the intelligentby the wise

This practice-based approach was even reflected in the design of published materials.  For example, several of the terms, including opanāyiko, were employed on the front cover of a magazine of the Bhikkhus of Wat Paknam, surrounding the image of the Buddha in meditation.

Another area where the orientation of practice can prompt or fashion a different response concerns repetition (pp. 62-68). Certainly some formulaic repetition acts as little more than packaging, but the repetition in the ‘contents’ does need care.  As mentioned, repetition aids and reinforces memory, but it also establishes a rhythm, which can be cyclical in nature, like a spiral staircase, where the completion of each full 360 degree rotation brings a different aspect viewed from a series of successively higher windows (perhaps these are the “small changes” that Ven. Dr Walpola Rahula alluded to?).  Lists are usually intentionally ordered.  Hence the khandhas (pp. 64-5) are to be contemplated, each in turn (it’s not an intellectual exercise, it’s a sermon on practice, not about the practice).

But some cases of repetition do appear to be far less necessary: repetition that arises through reporting - the convention of repeating verbatim each time a new person is to hear what has been said.  Such preservation can make for excessive, even quite absurd, repetition as illustrated (p. 66) and I confess that in study groups we often skip reading out such repeated reports.

Gombrich makes the key point that repetition occurs at every level, which suggests that the Buddha used repetition in his speeches, thereby strengthening the case that the Pali does indeed record the Buddha’s own words.

4. Pali in Buddhist Ideology

Having laid the foundations, the final chapter presents the main thesis: that the Buddha gave his teachings in Pali as part of his ideology; the use of Pali emerged in opposition to Sanskrit as integral to the Buddha’s teachings being in contradistinction to the Vedas.  I hadn’t thought that the Buddha might so deliberately using language (or avoid the use of a particularly structured language) to take an ideological stance, but I can imagine it fits like this. 

Then Gombrich builds his case, showing how the Buddha gave his teachings to anyone who was prepared to receive them, instructing his disciples to make language accessible and adaptable to locality.  A particularly difficult area is establishing what language was used between the time of the Buddha and when it was first formally written down in Sri Lanka.  So Gombrich proceeds to develop a linguistic argument, inviting the reader to imagine the conditions in which the Buddha roamed far and wide and how Pali appears to have accommodated a wide range of dialects to match whilst being based on a predominant dialect, a ‘lingua franca’, becoming the ‘argot’ of the Buddha and his followers (rather than quoting Google, I suggest the entry in an online etymology dictionary).

Such language was used in a pragmatic fashion to convey meaning, so it can be argued that implies purging language of foreign terms.  I’m cautious about that; some terms need to be introduced with all nuances of the original meaning properly established or else much can be lost.  I think, for example, of the term “mindfulness”, which is typically used for sati, but in the process the sense of clear comprehension with an ethical basis has often been removed (think about the sequence of the Eightfold Noble Path).

Conclusion

In the epilogue, Gombrich leaves us with an open problem: how best to teach a basic course in Pali that will enable students to tackle the translation of texts with the aid of a dictionary and other tools.   From past experience, Gombrich has found that the course needs to be intensive over a short period, usually 2-3 weeks, but that has presented various challenges in terms of organisation and commitment irrespective of whether that is offered in person at a physical location or online. 

Efforts are currently being made to provide a more sustainable option through online courses with recorded sessions, which should improve retention, though it will mean reduced personal interaction.  Having been involved in developing and support e-learning platforms, and even a little research, I expect A.I. to offer considerable potential, especially assistance in understanding particular concepts being taught in drill practice.  Financial support would make things easier, remove some barriers, but overall I think that it still largely depends on the student's determination as to whether there will be a successful outcome.



Overall, this little volume has been stimulating and enjoyable and I'm pleased to recommend it.  It has reminded me how fortunate I was to learn the rudiments of Pali from an expert so that I could be in a position to explore the Buddha's teachings with more assurance; today, I mainly use that knowledge outside the academic context, in a local Buddhist group (where we follow chanting and meditation with sutta study, using a plethora of books and some electronic tools).


Postscript [12 January 2019]

After posting the article, I recalled having written about how the Buddha transmitted Dhamma based on knowing the receptivity of his audience and their kamma.  To explain how this worked, I tried to use analogies with concepts in physics (mainly holography, first introducing the basic idea and then elaborating with a further analogy of a radio set.






Saturday, September 22, 2018

On Demonstrating the Deleterious Effects of Alcohol - of Any Amount

For decades there have been international efforts to collaborate in addressing causes of health issues affecting people around the world.  The subject of alcohol consumption has been included in such efforts as it is accepted as a cause of serious diseases; where it's less clear, and hence the subject of  debate among professionals and scholars, has been around the effects (and side effects) of smaller quantities.

My impression as a non-specialist is that until recently, some international data has been published, but the samples have often been either quite small or selective.  Generally, collaborations have involved a few partners, but it’s not been global. Apart from the challenge of coordination, the funding required for large scale studies is considerable and has tended to be dependent on philanthropic organisations or big businesses.  Such has been the case for alcohol, at least in the UK, where one of the most highly visible charities, Drinkaware, works closely with the alcohol industry, a relationship that, as the Aberdeen Evening News reminds us, continues to be problematic.

So I think it’s of major importance that the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation (IHME),  at the University of Washington, has coordinated work in this field involving hundreds of researchers from accredited public institutions spanning much of the world.  Their collaboration has resulted in the publication of Alcohol use and burden for 195 countries and territories, 1990–2016: a systematic analysis for the Global Burden of Disease 2016 Study in The Lancet (full report).  This research — and many of the other projects as well as the open access — is funded by the Bill & Melissa Gates Foundation (which makes sense as Microsoft is based in Seattle), with no obvious potential conflict of interest in this area.

The research gathers data mainly via questionnaires seeking to establish current practices in alcohol consumption.  Whereas some studies had suggested health benefits with low levels of consumption, they dismiss this assertion, stating in their conclusions:

“Our results show that the safest level of drinking is none. This level is in conflict with most health guidelines, which espouse health benefits associated with consuming up to two drinks per day.”

The study appears to meet expectations around rigour, but the main issue is how to interpret the findings.  What’s the significance?  Does it really matter for the ‘occasional drinker’?  Based on their statistical analysis, the percentage improvements are small, suggesting that the benefits of complete abstention are minor.  In some comments reported at the end of a BBC article about the research, No alcohol safe to drink, global study confirms, Prof. David Spiegelhalter, Winton Professor for the Public Understanding of Risk at the University of Cambridge, was dismissive.

"Given the pleasure presumably associated with moderate drinking, claiming there is no 'safe' level does not seem an argument for abstention," he said.
"There is no safe level of driving, but the government does not recommend that people avoid driving.
"Come to think of it, there is no safe level of living, but nobody would recommend abstention."

Prof. Spiegelhalter, who introduced the MicroLives metric, is an expert at quantification and risk around health and based on the available data it’s a reasonable conclusion to reach; the measurements of the purely physical symptoms appear to be statistically trifling.

But where alcohol is concerned we ought to be looking more widely to get the full picture of its effects.  With regards to these kinds of studies, one could seek longitudinal studies that studied changes in intake over a period of time, but it will probably be more revealing to concentrate on cognitive effects, which can be studied in neuroscience; in particular how an individual’s perception of their quality of awareness might not register a degradation in, e.g., response times.  Is it possible to measure the impact on decision-making processes in general?

The design of the Global Burden of Disease (GBD) study is based on certain kinds of measurements relating to a person’s health, but if a government, public body or policy maker wishes to evaluate alcohol effects more fully, then other perspectives are needed.  So I want to extend the discussion, starting with the observation about alcohol’s pervasiveness: just as alcohol gets very rapidly absorbed by the bloodstream, there’s a social currency or flow around alcohol — I’ll dub it ‘society under the influence’.   I suggest that it has an impact on even clinical research studies, for any research around human behaviour depends on views and the socio-cultural context. 

To get some indication of this, I’m curious to know how the findings have been received in different countries.  What do people make of it?  One way of gauging this is to look at how the research has been reported in national media channels.  If we choose to examine responses in the UK, which is a largely secular society, there is strong emphasis on ‘objectivity’ and empirical research based on verifiable evidence.  Looking again at the BBC’s report, whilst the findings are duly summarised, the suggested ‘takeaway’ for the reader is strongly suggested by Spiegelhalter’s remarks, which I paraphrase as: “nothing to see here, carry on as normal.”  It’s echoed numerous times (along with the derisory tone) in the comments section.

However, those who have the responsibility to ensure safety on the roads often advise that any amount could be a problem.  Alcohol increases risks generally and as to pleasurable experiences, there are many free alternatives (such as meditation) that don’t carry such risk.  Moreover alcohol’s biggest risk is not the physical effects, but the increase in heedlessness (which in turn increases exposure to risk).  Furthermore, many people do recommend abstention, especially those who practice a religion (in Christianity, think about the temperance movement; in Islam the prohibition on alcohol; and in Buddhist the Fifth Precept. They regard it as poison, which immediately makes an argument for adopting such a position.  But practice varies enormously due to cultural conditioning, as I established when I carried out my own survey online.

Britain has a long-standing culture of alcohol, where any number of explanations are readily forthcoming (such as alcohol is needed to keep people warm — to which one may point out that the Cadbury family’s hot chocolate business demonstrated no such need.)  Some are very protective about drinking habits, which reflects the social function, but the gathering down the local pub doesn’t need to be fuelled by alcohol as there are many other beverages that could take their place.  It spans all social strata, particularly noticeable at Oxford University, where so much social networking revolves around it (many academics are partial to a glass of fine wine), though it’s not so pronounced as before.  It even affects Buddhist scholarship; if an academic interprets the precept around refraining from intoxicants as “not to take alcohol to the point of intoxication” then it’s quite likely that they drink alcohol!  But from my own reading of canonical sources the Buddha was clear — to be safe, “not a drop” should be consumed.

The Buddha taught in a way that both enabled an individual to cultivate their mind, but also to foster the social conditions in which individuals practice.  Returning to GBD study, it was the World Bank who sponsored initial work in 1990, subsequently reported in the World Development Report 1993 : Investing in Health (see the section on ‘Measuring the burden of disease’, pp. 25-29).  In that report from 25 years ago there was already established a way of measuring reduced quality of life as disability-adjusted life years (DALYs).  Although there was no explicit mention in this section of alcohol, it is mentioned in other sections as a factor in violence against women, and as a factor in high spending in low income families correlated to medical conditions (p.44).  More generally this work also indicates severe social costs not measured.  And one can take this further by consider the non-physical and even metaphysical implications: in Buddhism, the link between alcohol and dementia is clear:

For one reborn as a human being drinking liquor and wine at minimum conduces to madness.
Anguttara Nikaya 8:40, trans. Bhikkhu Bodhi,


The greatest danger from alcohol is the risk of heedlessness, which can lead to any number of problems, for the individual and others, which may or may not have observable impact on physical health.  It can lead someone to think that an extra glass is okay and then this process can keep repeating and there lies the danger — as recovering alcoholics will insist very strongly. The effects are determined by the Law of Karma and taking alcohol is described as a road to ruin.  It’s really not worth the risk.