A Strategic Perspective On Buddhist Medi
A Strategic Perspective On Buddhist Medi
A Strategic Perspective On Buddhist Medi
Charles Pyle
The Question
I would like to begin by framing a question that goes to the heart of Buddhist
meditation, then I will develop an explanation that answers the question.
The first principle of Buddhism is that human beings are chronically plagued by
suffering (dukkha), though we normally ignore it. The second principle is that this suffering is
not intrinsic to human nature, but that it a function of adventitious causes extrinsic to human
nature. The Buddha taught that the root cause of dukkha is a multifarious complex of
misunderstandings of the nature of things, which is collectively called avijja, commonly
translated into English as ‘ignorance.’ Since this ignorance is extrinsic, it is possible to bring
this chronic suffering to an end by eradicating the ignorance that causes it. Therefore, since the
cessation of dukkha would be of great benefit to human beings, the Buddha taught people how
to eradicate ignorance. He taught the correct worldview, which consists of several interrelated
principles of natural law such as tilakkhaṇa and paṭiccasamuppāda. And he taught a system of
practice, itself a function of natural law, a path that leads to the alleviation of dukkha. The
culmination of this path of liberation is a type of meditation, vipassana (‘clear seeing’ or
‘seeing deeply’) which enables one to see the true nature of things, the truth, and thereby
eradicate ignorance, and thus bring about liberation from dukkha.
There are many different principles and practices in the Buddhist worldview and the
Buddhist path of liberation, and they are all interrelated, but for purpose of this discussion I
would like to focus on vipassana meditation. I believe that anyone who has studied and
practiced vipassana becomes aware of and has struggled with a fundamental question, a puzzle,
a paradox, in the logic of vipassana. And, whereas such a paradox would be intolerable in the
logic of a conventional endeavor, I suggest that this paradox is not only tolerable in vipassana,
but is integral to its functionality in that its purpose is to see beyond conventional logic, to see
the ultimate truth (paramattha sacca) that is beyond all logic, beyond grammar, beyond words
and all other signs. It is an endeavor to see the signless, and from that point of view the paradox
is seen as merely an apparent paradox.
Perhaps the simplest way to see the paradox is to consider the central image of
Buddhism: a representation of the Buddha sitting in the position prescribed for mediation. The
implication is that if we want to follow the path of liberation from suffering prescribed by the
Buddha, this is what we should do. And what is he doing? He is doing something very
abnormal: Nothing. He is not reading, not studying, not talking, not building, not going, not
even moving. Here is the puzzle: How can one progress along the path of liberation by doing
nothing? How can one do something by doing nothing?
This was published in 2012 p. 158-176 in Buddhist Philosophy and Meditation Practice.
Academic Papers presented at the 2nd International Association of Buddhist
Universities Conference, Mahachulalongkornrajavidyalaya (Royal Thai Buddhist
University), Wang Noi, Ayutthaya, Thailand.
You must examine yourself. Know who you are. Know your body and mind by simply
watching…The practice is not to try to achieve anything. Just be mindful of what is.
Our whole meditation is looking directly at the mind. 2
Try to keep your mind in the present. Whatever there is that arises in the mind, just
watch it. Let go of it. Don’t even wish to be rid of thoughts. Then the mind will reach
its natural state. 3
What he says here is that we should not do active analysis, or think, or even wish. There
is a role in Buddhism for reading, studying, logical and critical analysis (yonisomanasikāra),
but not in vipassana mediation. We should just watch, and the mind will reach its natural state,
the state of liberation. My focus here is on the point that it is not that I do something to cause
liberation, but that if I watch, silently, passively, liberation happens to me. Here is the puzzle:
How can mere watching result in the eradication of ignorance and liberation from suffering?
On this question, Achaan Chaa gives us a clue: because that is the natural state of mind.
Liberation is the natural state of the mind, and ignorance is not the natural state of the mind.
So in sum the effect of meditation is not a function of what I do, but a function of natural forces.
It is also made clear in the above mentioned suttas that vipassana is essentially a passive
silent watching of what goes on in the body and mind without goal, without intent, without
interference, even without judgment, in a totally disinvested state of mind as regards one’s likes
or dislikes. As Venerable Anālayo puts it, ‘like a spectator at a play’:
A close examination of the instructions in the Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta reveals that the
meditator is never instructed to interfere actively with what happens in the mind. If a
mental hindrance arises, for example, the task of satipaṭṭhāna contemplation is to know
that the hindrance is present, to know what has led to its arising, and to know what will
lead to its disappearance. 4
Uninvolved and detached receptivity [is] one of the crucial characteristics of sati…the
purpose of sati is solely to make things conscious…Sati silently observes, like a
spectator at a play, without in any way interfering. Some refer to this non-reactive
feature of sati as “choiceless” awareness. “Choiceless” in the sense that with such
awareness one remains impartially aware, without reacting with likes or dislikes. 5
Sati as such is mere awareness of phenomena, without letting the mind stray into
thoughts and associations… By letting go of all dependencies and cravings during this
advanced level of practice, a deepening realization of the empty nature of all
phenomena dawns on the meditator. 6
2 Kornfield p. 48
3 Kornfield p. 40.
4 Anālayo p. 57
5 Anālayo p. 58
6 Anālayo p. 115-16
Again we see the apparent paradox that in vipassana meditation the meditator does not
seek the goal of realization, and yet by engaging in the passive activity of vipassana meditation
the realization of truth ‘dawns on the meditator,’ and thus his goal is attained. The meditator
does not to do anything that is causally efficacious, and yet ignorance goes away and truth
emerges.
Finally, the same implication follows from the Buddha’s description of his own
enlightenment by the use of passive grammar:
Vision arose, insight arose, discernment arose, knowledge arose, illumination arose
within me with regard to things never heard before: ‘This is the noble truth of stress.’ 7
So here is the question. How does passive, silent, detached watching of the mind lead
to the eradication of ignorance and the emergence of truth? Above we saw the suggestion that
it is a function of the nature of mind. If so, what exactly causes the emergence of realization?
What dynamic is at work here?
Buddhism is Science
In order to answer this question, we must begin by correcting an error that European
scholars imposed upon the Buddhist universe of discourse many years ago by calling it
‘religion.’ When Europeans first came into contact with Buddhism, they tried to make sense of
it in their universe of discourse, which had been fundamentally split by the struggle between
religion and science. To these foreign scholars Buddhism did not appear to be a science, but it
did have many of the features of religion, so they categorized it as a religion. As the European
discourse gained power and prestige, mainly through the success of its science in the material
dimension, European societies became powerful and its discourse spread throughout the world.
Consequently, Buddhism came to be thought of as a religion by all authorities: governments,
academia, Google.
What is most unfortunate, even though the conflict between religion and science did
not exist in the Buddhist universe of discourse, Buddhism came to regard itself as a religion.
Thereby Buddhism accepted the awkward strategic positioning imposed upon it by a foreign
universe of discourse as being unscientific, when in fact, upon objective consideration, it is
obvious that Buddhism is scientific. However, many Buddhists do realize, perhaps
unconsciously, this framing of Buddhism as religion is inappropriate with incorrect
implications, and so they try to avoid this problem by speaking of Buddhism as a philosophy,
or a spiritual journey, or inner science, or mind science. My impression is that in recent years
more and more Buddhists are realizing that Buddhism is science, and are taking the position
that Buddhism should be framed as science, not religion.
Let me cite three examples of prominent Buddhists who have done so. First, the Dalai
Lama has been deeply interested in the relation between science and Buddhism since his
childhood. He has stated innumerable times along the lines of the following quote that
Buddhism is fundamentally grounded in empiricism, and thus a scientific endeavor.
From either of the two perspectives, the [Theravada] or the Mahayana, we find that
analysis and examination through reasoning, the basic Buddhist attitude is very
important. Once you find a fact through investigation, then you accept it. Even if that
fact appears contradictory to Buddha’s own words, it doesn’t matter. Because of this, I
feel the basic Buddhist attitude is quite similar to the scientists’ attitude...either way
…we have studied and explained the sixteen step method in full, because it will reveal
the secrets of nature thorugh its scientific approach. This is a science that leads to a
natural understanding of kāya, vedanā, citta, and Dhamma, in the best and most
complete way possible, through the perspective and approach of natural science. This
method is a scientific approach… 9
And in another place he stated that ‘To come to know the true nature of things is the
true objective of every Buddhist.’ 10 And, succinctly, ‘Dhamma is nature.’ 11
A third example is Phra Prayudh Payutto, who amassed a mountain of evidence that
Buddhism is science in his monumental work, Buddhadhamma: Natural Laws and Values for
Life. He does not explicitly assert Buddhism is science, but he makes the all arguments that
would be needed to establish that as a fact. First, he asserts that ‘Buddhism only accepts
empirical knowledge’ and he cites the Buddha’s teachings throughout the book that support
this assertion. 12 Second, he asserts that the basic Buddhist principles tilakkhaṇa and
paṭiccasamuppāda are natural law. 13 And in regard to many other aspects of Buddhism
throughout the book he argues that every aspect of Buddhism is based on natural law and the
principle of cause and effect.
To establish that Phra Prayudh Payutto has in effect argued that Buddhism is science,
consider how the U. S. National Academy of Science defines science as distinct from religion:
Scientists seek to relate one natural phenomenon to another and to recognize the causes
and effects of phenomena 15….In science, explanations are limited to those based on
observations and experiments that can be substantiated by other scientists. Explanations
that cannot be based on empirical evidence are not a part of science. 16
Here are the key points. First, the U. S. National Academy of Science says that science
deals with natural phenomena, whereas, by implication, religion deals with un-natural
phenomena, supernatural, mystical, etc. Second, science seeks to make sense of natural
phenomena by recognizing causes and effects, as distinct from religion which allows
phenomena that are not subject to the natural laws of cause and effect, such as miracles, which,
by definition, are interruptions of the laws of nature. Third, all principles of science, including
8 Hayward. 32-3
9 Buddhadāsa 1997. 123-4
10 Kornfield, p. 125
11 Buddhadāsa 1997 p 36
12 Payutto 284
13 Payutto 61 and 94
14 Payutto 95-6
15 Steering Committee on Science and Creationism viii
16 Steering Committee on Science and Creationism 25
theories, hypotheses, laws, axioms, etc., are subject to empirical verification, as distinct from
religion which rests on fundamental principles and practices that are explicitly held not to be
capable of empirical verification and must instead be taken as true by faith, such as the
existence of God, the laws and commandments of God, etc. So as you can see, Phra Prayudh
Payutto has provided extensive arguments in support of each of the three characteristics that
distinguish Buddhism as science rather than religion.
As a fourth and final example of a Buddhist that regards Buddhism as science, I would
like to cite the fact that the Buddha, Gautama, described the fundamentals of Buddhism, the
four noble truths and the noble eightfold path, not as a path that he created, but as a path that
he discovered, in fact, an ancient path that he re-discovered.
It is just as if a man, traveling along a wilderness track, were to see an ancient path, an
ancient road, traveled by people of former times… In the same way I saw an ancient
path, an ancient road, traveled by the Rightly Self-awakened Ones of former times. And
what is that ancient path, that ancient road, traveled by the Rightly Self-awakened Ones
of former times? Just this noble eightfold path: right view, right aspiration, right speech,
right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, right concentration. That
is the ancient path, the ancient road, traveled by the Rightly Self-awakened Ones of
former times. I followed that path. 17
The implication is that the Buddhist path of liberation, and the other fundamentals of
Buddhism, have always been there, prior to and independent of their discovery by this Buddha,
Gautama, just as gravity has always been there, prior to and independent of its discovery by
Newton. From this it follows that the Buddha was describing natural phenomena, just as much
as Newton was. And it follows that Buddhism is just as legitimately science as physics is.
Though one could continue this argument at great length, I believe I have cited
sufficient evidence to justify in the current context the premise that Buddhism is science, and
thus rectify this historical error that has been foisted upon the Buddhist universe of discourse.18
However, since the positioning of Buddhism as science, or rather the re-positioning of
Buddhism as science, has radical and far reaching implications, I feel it is important to solidify
this position by briefly exploring some of it potentially confusing fundamental features before
we move beyond.
The first feature of Buddhism as science I would like to consider is that a moral code
(sila) is a fundamental element of Buddhism. For this reason, one might object to the
characterization of Buddhism as science, based on the notion that science does not prescribe
morals. To begin with, while it is true that in some abstract, philosophical sense scientists may
consider their work to be beyond the realm of morals, in fact science does prescribe morals. It
is very common for governments and individuals, including hardcore scientists, to develop
positions on moral issues based on what they believe to be scientific grounds. On the other
hand, the moral code of Buddhism is not simply an ethics, but is an integral component of its
scientific methodology. Just as the sterility of a biological laboratory is a necessary condition
for the scientific study of microorganisms, so too is the Buddhist moral code a necessary
condition for the study of mind. As Phra Prayudh Payutto put it:
This code is not a divine command demanding that followers do this or that in
accordance with a divine purpose, a purpose based on ungrounded faith and loyalty that
does not require an understanding of interconnected causes and effects. The Buddhist
The second feature of Buddhism as science I would like to consider can be approached
in terms of the role of hermeneutics in Buddhism as a science, as distinct from its role in
Christianity as a religion. In religious systems of thought, such as Christianity, because those
systems are based on texts of supernatural origin that reveal truths that are hidden behind a
limit of knowledge that human beings are not capable of going beyond, the practitioners can
only try to understand those truths through the texts that reveal them. And, since those texts are
exposed to various types of corruptions, and because language is inherently liable to multiple,
and often conflicting, meanings, religious texts are always subject to multiple conflicting
interpretations. And yet it is crucial that these inconsistent interpretations be resolved in order
to determine how one should act in conformity with those highly important revealed truths. It
is in this Christian context that hermeneutics developed as a branch of scholarship that attempts
to develop objective, mechanical, one might say, scientific, principles by which one can extract
the intended meaning from texts. Hermeneutics is of the utmost importance in religion.
However, in science hermeneutics, while not entirely pointless, is of relatively little
importance. Of course one must learn to understand the discourse of one’s discipline, and that
is done largely through the study of texts. But even in the beginning stages, the study of texts
is always accompanied by a corresponding practice of experimentation and direct observation
of the phenomena being studied. In science one studies the texts, but direct observation of the
phenomena is preeminent. It has always been the fundamental principle of Buddhism that
realization of the true nature of things is the point, whereas the original teacher and his teaching,
now present only in texts, merely point to the truth.
I believe that the famous simile of the blind men and the elephant (Ud 6.4) can be
instructive here. Although it is not the stated point of the story, it does imply that direct
knowledge not only obviates the interpretation of second-hand representations, i.e., texts, but
direct knowledge is a necessary precondition for the correct interpretation of texts. In the story
a number of blind men were each allowed to examine a different part of an elephant. One
examined the ear, one the leg, and so on. Then, when they were asked to explain what an
elephant is like, they each gave correspondingly different answers, such as ‘It is like a
winnowing basket,” and “It is like a post,” and so on. The reports of the blind men, who are
presupposed not to know what an elephant is, can be taken as signs, which by their nature also
only convey a partial and distorted representation of that which they represent. Further it is also
presupposed in the story that the teller of the story and the addressees of the story do know
what an elephant is. Therefore, it is implicit in the story that you have to know what an elephant
is in order to be able to sort out and interpret the signs, the texts, that represent the elephant.
Thus Buddhist practitioners are, like all other scientists, obliged to pursue the study of
texts, to engage in critical examination (yonisomanasikāra) of both the texts and actual
phenomena, and, preeminently, to seek direct understanding of the nature of things by of direct
observation. Physicists might use a telescope, Buddhists use meditation.
The third feature of Buddhism as science I would like to consider is that Buddhism
includes mind, where the conventional sciences do not. In Buddhism mind is considered to be
a sixth sense, in addition to the five commonly recognized - sight, sound, smell, taste, and
touch. Correspondingly, whereas conventional sciences make the assumption that everything
is a function of material causality, Buddhism holds that, on the contrary, mind is predominant.
It is not that Buddhism excludes or discounts material phenomena apriori. It is not that
Buddhism is lacking in knowledge of material phenomena. This is not an oversight or an
19 Payutto 245
incidental issue. It a central point of difference between Buddhism and conventional science.
It is an empirical finding that is boldly asserted in the first line of the Dhammapada:
Mind precedes its objects. They are mind-governed and mind-made. To speak or act
with a defiled mind is to draw pain after oneself, like a wheel behind the feet of the
animal drawing it. 20
Bhikkus, there are two kinds of diseases: Physical diseases and psychological disorders.
Some people in this world can claim that they have been without physical disease for a
whole year. And you can find some people who can claim that they have been without
physical disease for two years…three years…four years…five years…ten
years…twenty years…thirty years…forty years…fifty years…a hundred years. But it
is hard to find anyone who can claim that he has been free of mental disturbances, even
for a single moment, except for those who have destroyed all mental intoxicants
(āsava). 21
The fourth feature of Buddhism as science I would like to consider is faith. While, as I
argued above, Buddhism is grounded in empiricism, faith (saddhā) does still play an essential
role in Buddhism, just as it does in the conventional sciences. It is by the power of faith, and
maybe also hope, that one is motivated to invest the time and effort necessary to test a
hypothesis. In Buddhism, as in other sciences, after you have verified or falsified the
hypothesis, the need for faith falls away. Phra Prayudh Payutto has a detailed and heavily
referenced discussion of faith. 22
Once a person has insight—that is, clear knowledge and vision—there is no need for
confidence, it is not necessary to have faith in other people…an arahant has the highest
insight and, therefore, has a quality called “asaddhā,’ meaning a person without
saddhā. 23
20 http://eawc.evansville.edu/anthology/dhammapada.htm
21 A II.142-143, Payutto p. 269
22 Payutto p. 211-222
23 Payutto p. 221-222
The epistemological position of conventional science is very different, and somewhat
confusing. On the level of the philosophy of conventional science it is commonly held that
there is no truth, or if there is, it is unknowable. Indeed, it is held that is not possible to know
anything with certainty. The idea is that science approaches truth by developing theories and
from those theories they derive implications that are falsifiable, and then they develop test
situations in which one can prove the implications false or fail to prove them false. In this view,
the closest way one can relate with reality is by asymptotically approaching it, though never
getting there. And any system of ideas that is not falsifiable is not science. 24
While this view of science has wide acceptance, it is a philosophical view of science,
and as with all philosophical views, it is fraught with conditions, exceptions, and other
complexities, which we will not venture into here. Suffice it to say that in the real world real
people invest their lives and fortunes in the exploration and development of scientific ideas in
the hope that they are correct, and thus they will work, not because they are falsifiable.
In any case, Buddhism holds a radically different view of knowledge and of truth and
falsity. And the epistemological issue from the Buddhist point of view is not so much a matter
of gaining new knowledge, but of becoming free of false knowledge, delusions, that prevent
us from seeing and knowing what is perfectly obvious. Conventional scientists talk about
ripping the veils from mother nature, so that we can discover nature’s secrets. Buddhism is
concerned with us getting rid our own veils, so that we can see the nature of all things clearly.
In concluding this discussion of Buddhism as science, I think it is possible to succinctly
state the basic principle of Buddhism thus: We normally live in conflict with the laws of nature,
and this causes suffering. We can learn to understand and conform to the laws of nature, which
results in the disappearance of suffering, and brings happiness.
24 Popper, 1959.
Anything possessing any signs is illusory. It is by perceiving that all signs are no signs
that you perceive the Tathāgata. 25
25 Blofeld p.71
Figure 1. Moon in the Water
Secondly, there is a relation of relative truth and falsity between the first and the second,
and this is so in multiple ways. In this particular case, for example, if you were situated in such
a way that you could not see the moon itself, and if the water were perfectly calm, you might
take the reflection of the moon in the water as the moon itself. In other words, the reflection of
the moon in the water says, in effect, the moon is here, when it is not so. Or in another scenario
if the water were disturbed, as in this image, so that it doesn’t look much like the moon, and if
you didn’t see the moon itself, you might think someone was on a boat on the water flashing a
light. The logic of both of these scenarios can be represented if you suppose the second layer
in this diagram were to be expanded to cover the first layer. That would represent what would
be seen by someone who naively took the reflection of the moon in the water at face value as
something in itself. So this diagram represents the fundamentally deceptive logic of signs.
Technically, this is a representation of the logic of duplicity, the essential logic of falsity, and
it is the logic of all signs. This is why one of the three doors to liberation is the signless.
Further, even when we see the image of the moon directly, as represented in the first
level of this diagram, what we see is not actually the moon itself, but is also an iconic image of
the moon. It is a reflection of the light of the sun from the surface of the moon. It is conceptually
prior to the image we see reflected in the water, but it too is derivative, and that fact is also
represented here, though in a somewhat surreptitious way. The page on which this diagram is
represented can be taken as the implicitly presupposed first level of representation, the level of
unrepresented truth, or in this case as the level of the moon as it is in reality, which is not
represented but can be supposed to be being covered up by the first represented level. Thus the
page itself represents what Peirce called the first sheet of assertions, which is absolute truth,
and the two represented levels represent levels of relative truth, each of which is an iconic
representation of the moon. Thus the two levels that are represented arise in layers of lesser
degrees of truth, relatively speaking, from the prior unrepresented level of absolute truth. In
this we have a representation of the distinction between relative truth (or conventional truth)
and absolute truth, sammuti-sacca and paramattha-sacca.
The second type of signs is indexical signs. These are signs that refer to their referent
by means of some relation of material force, contact, or related implication. For example, the
footprint of a deer in the mud represents a deer. The footprint is similar to the shape of the
deer’s foot because the deer’s foot forced the mud to take that shape by pressing into the mud.
Such a footprint says, ‘some animal was here, and it was a deer,’ and in some cases, where
there were unique characteristics in the footprint, it might even say, ‘that particular deer was
here.’ Another indexical sign is the movement of a flag that can be taken as an indication of
the direction of the wind, because the wind forces it to move in just that way. On the human
level a basic type of index is pointing, which references its object by protruding a finger in the
direction of the object. Of course, this type of sign is subject to misunderstanding too, as anyone
knows who has tried to direct a dog to the food you have laid out for him by pointing. Invariably
the dog will come to your extended finger, and not go to the food. This exemplifies the classic
Buddhist aphorism, ‘Do not take the finger for the moon.’
The third type of sign is symbolic signs. These are signs that refer to their referent by
means of a stipulation or habit or convention. These types of signs are mainly, though not
exclusively, found in human language and culture. For example, the word ‘moon’ doesn’t have
any relation of similarity or physical contiguity to the moon. It refers to the moon merely by
the conventions of the English language. So outside of the realm of English it does not mean
‘moon’. This brings us to the realm of language.
Language
Language consists of signs that are a mixture of all three of the sign types distinguished
above. For example, “I went to work and went to school” describes two acts using symbolic
signs, but it also implicitly conveys the order of the two events iconically by means of the order
of the words. That is, by default one assumes this means that the first event is first and the
second event is second. The pronoun “I” is an index, and thus cannot be interpreted in the
abstract. It can only be interpreted in a physical context, normally as referring to the person
who speaks the sentence. This simple example demonstrates that the analysis of language in
terms of sign functions is extremely complex, so I will just consider a couple of relatively
obvious features of language.
First, it is very important to realize that human language is essentially unnatural. One
way to see this is by considering that every language is a foreign language, and that it is foreign
in two ways. First, each language is foreign in relation to every other language, as for example
Thai is foreign to English. And second language is also foreign in relation to each child born
in that language community. A child will naturally develop physical characteristics that are
similar to those of its parents, but if a child is removed from its parents at a young age, it will
grow up speaking the language of its caretakers whatever that might be. Children must go
through a rather lengthy and sometimes painful process of learning the language of their
community. Thus no language is a truly native language. Or to put it the other way around,
every language is unnatural. Thus as a child learns a language, he is investing himself into an
unnatural world view, he is developing an unnatural sense of self, one that is not a function of
the laws of nature, and thus a self and a world that is characterized by dukkha.
That language is unnatural can also be seen by considering the three types of signs.
Iconic and indexical signs function by means of a natural relation between the sign and referent.
In order for a sign to be symbolic it must not be related to its referent by a natural relation, for
if it were, it would not be a symbolic sign, but an icon or index. Thus by definition every
symbolic sign must be an unnatural sign.
This characteristic of language has been commonly ignored by most linguists and
philosophers, but the British philosopher H. P. Grice noticed this is a characteristic of human
language, referring to it as nonnatural meaning.
This question about the distinction between natural and nonnatural meaning is, I think,
what people are getting at when they display an interest in a distinction between
“natural” and “conventional” signs.. 26
Furthermore, if you observe the way children learn to communicate, you can see that
there are two distinct phases. Roman Jakobson noted in his most influential work on the
26 Grice p. 379
development of child language that children speak a different type of language until about the
age of two, at which point they begin to actually learn the language of the adults surrounding
them. 27 Before this point children do not use the negative word, in English, ‘no.’ They are able
to express negativity, as for example by spitting out food, but that is different from saying ‘no.’
And they also do not use the first person pronoun, or generally any pronouns. They refer to
themselves the same way as their parents do. For example, at this early stage of development,
if the parents call the child “Bobby,” the child would say, “Bobby hungry” instead of “I
hungry.” And during this first phase children are capable of pronouncing any sound or
combination of sounds that is physically possible.
But all of a sudden around the age of two, children are struck by a more or less
comprehensive inability to pronounce the wild variety of sounds they could before. Some
children are struck totally dumb for weeks or even, rarely, a year. At this point they also begin
to use the negative word to an excessive degree, responding almost compulsively negatively.
And at this point they begin to use the first person pronoun to refer to themselves.
In Buddhist terms I think it is reasonable to suppose that at this point the child undergoes
a comprehensive eradication of his prior sense of himself, being struck by a kind of total
ignorance, by which he becomes a clean slate, the foundation upon which he can progressively
rebuild himself in the unnatural logic and conceptuality of his language. Thus he will find
himself, as we all do, suffering under a very thick and complexly woven fabric of ignorance
and false conceptuality. I believe this is exactly what Phra Prayudh Payutto is discussing here:
Their pattern of behavior has been received, handed down to them through their
education and training, their culture, religious beliefs, and the preferences of their
society. 28
He says, ‘the above points are called āsava. I think it makes sense to extend this slightly and
say that āsava are a function of language. These are the deep and persistent unconscious
influences that induce us to misperceive and misunderstand reality. If this is true, then we can
say that the fabric of language is the fabric of ignorance, and that the dynamic of language is
the dynamic of ignorance.
By way of elaborating this relationship, I would like to point out that ignorance (avijja)
is commonly misunderstood to be a simple gap in knowledge. However, the type of ignorance
Buddhism is concerned with is an activity of semiotic displacement, an instantaneous event
that uses a sign to cover up what was there before. Ignorance is the unconscious substitution of
what you expect to hear, or what you want to hear, for what you actually hear. Ignorance
produces a kind of hallucinatory state of mind in which you perceive things that are not there,
or don’t perceive things that are there, or incorrectly evaluate things, etc. Let me illustrate that
this is an ordinary and integral function of language with a couple of examples. Please also
bear in mind, that, while I have chosen very simple and superficial examples to illustrate this
point, the exact same dynamic is at work in every element of language.
27 Jakobson 1968
28 Payutto p. 128
Figure 2 A Black Cat
Consider the diagram in Figure 2. I don’t know how widespread this belief is, but in
America those who are superstitious in believing believe that if a black cat walks across your
path, that is bad luck, and more generally that black cats are evil. I have seen a person throwing
stones at a black cat to chase it away so he wouldn’t be contaminated by evil. Such a person
sees what is simply a black cat, but he instantly displaces and covers that simple perception
with the concept of it as the embodiment of evil. He is only aware of the second level of
representation in this figure, displacing and covering over the prior naïve perception.
A similar type of hallucination, but on a completely different level of language, consider
Figure 3. I am trying to represent the type of hallucinatory mishearing that normally takes place
as a function of language on the boundary of foreignness between languages, in this case Thai
and English. The first level represents the sounds of a pair of words in Thai that differ only in
the first sound element, or phoneme. The word for ‘duck’ begins with an unaspirated [p] and
the word for ‘spicy’ begins with an aspirated [ph]. These two words can be distinguished by a
Thai speaker by the difference in their initial sound. However, English prohibits an unaspirated
[p] from occurring at the beginning of a word, so when an English speaker, who is not familiar
with Thai, hears a Thai pronounce the word for ‘duck’, he unconsciously substitutes an
aspirated [ph], and cannot hear any difference between the two words. He ‘hears’ [ph] instead
of [p].
Furthermore, this hallucination in hearing is matched by a corresponding incapacity in
pronunciation. An English speaker will not be able to pronounce the word for ‘duck’ correctly
either. He will compulsively pronounce it incorrectly, as he hears it, with an aspirated initial.
Similarly, the other way around, consider Figure 4. If an English speaker says the words
represented here on the first level, a naïve Thai speaker will mishear the final sounds as
represented on the second level, and will be entirely unaware of having done so. This is so
because [sh] and [l] sounds are prohibited in the Thai language from occurring at the end of a
word. And also here the automatic mishearing of what is prohibited is matched by the
automatic, compulsive mispronunciation of the words in the same way they are misheard.
Figure 3 An English Speaker’s Hallucination
In concluding this attempt to convey a sense of how deeply semiotics and linguistics is
related to Buddhism, I would like to point out that the entities that are at work in these last two
examples are not actual sounds, but are abstract categories of sound, defined within a matrix
of intersecting oppositions, such as consonant vs. vowel, dental vs. labial, aspirated vs.
unaspirated, etc. The Buddha said that the world is supported by the opposition between
existence and non-existence. And the implication here is that the world arises by adding layers
of oppositions upon that foundational opposition. So the elements that are the function of
ignorance in the above examples are of the same ontological order as all the other elements of
ignorance. That is to say, in sum, that the self is exactly the same type of object as a phoneme.
So it is not only on the level of signless liberation that linguistics is relevant, but also on the
level of not-self, because obviously the self is also a function of language.
How Does Meditation Work
Now that we can picture the logic of duplicity and the dynamic of ignorance in terms
of Peirce’s diagrammatic logic, we can see that ignorance is not just a matter of conceptual or
logical phenomena, but it is a matter of force, inhibition, compulsion. Second, we can see that,
while the general realm on which Buddhism is focused is the realm of mind, it is more
particularly the play of truth and falsity in the realm of mind that is at issue. The atomic element,
so to speak, is the duality, or the duplicity, which is the atomic structure of falsity. Because
duplicity is intrinsically asymmetric, the elaboration of this realm is also intrinsically
asymmetric. It is built up layer upon layer, and woven into complex networks of falsity. And
globally speaking this realm is governed by a kind of gravitational force, such that falsity arises
conditionally, layer by layer, from truth, and is constantly compelled by its nature to collapse
downward toward truth. This is the nature of ignorance, and it is also the nature of language.
For example, one basic principle that follows from this is that truth is one and falsity is
many. There can be only one center, but there are many radii, and many points on a circle. This
principle also is presupposed in language. Hence, any concept that implies singleness, implies
truth, and any concept that implies manyness implies falsity. Thus in English we say ‘he is
straight’, meaning he is honest, but ‘he is crooked’ means he is a liar. ‘He is two-faced’ means
he is a liar.
Consider speed and slowness. There is a scale of faster and slower. There is no limit to
how fast you can go, and people have all sorts of contests to see who can go the fastest. But no
one has a contest to see who can go the slowest. Indeed, there is a limit to slowness. When you
stop and sit on the ground, the dimension of speed collapses. Hence ‘fast talker’ means
someone who lies. It is common practice for salesmen to try to keep your mind moving and get
you to make a decision without giving you time to stop and think. Because when you slow
down, or stop, falsity tends to come apart, and truth tends to emerge.
It is similar with sound, that is, sound of language. You can talk louder or softer, faster
or slower, but if you are silent, all the polarities that apply to sound collapse. There is an
inherent association between silence and truth. That is why the Buddha was called Shakyamuni
meaning “the silent Shakya.”
Consider the relation between up and down. It is clear that down is first and things grow
or are built up. Of course, whatever goes up, must come down. The force of gravity, together
with the inherent impermanent nature of constructed things, means that whatever is built up
will eventually come down. Not only that, but there is an asymmetry in up and down. There is
no limit to how far up you can go, but if you go clear down to the ground you can’t go any
further down. Hence, in English ‘he has his feet on the ground’ implies that he is aware of truth,
whereas ‘he has his head in the clouds’ implies he is caught up in a world of falsity.
Finally, the Buddhist distinction between relative truth and ultimate truth (sammuti-
sacca and paramattha-sacca) is similar. There are multiple levels of relative truth, but at the
limit of absolute truth all of the dimensions of relative truth collapse and become inapplicable.
Thus, just as physical things tend to fall, falsity also tends to fall, disintegrate, collapse,
revealing the underlying truth. That is how the motionlessness, the silence, the aloneness, the
equanimous awareness of Buddhist meditation can enable one to see truth. The force that is in
play here is the force of truth. The truth speaks in silence. Contrarily, the more talk and social
intercourse, the thicker the falsity, the more obscured is truth.
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