I’ll admit it: I am not a fan of Buddhism. I’m aware that this doesn’t sound good—like confessing to contempt for puppies or to harbouring doubts about human kindness. But it’s best to be plain-spoken. Reader: consider yourself warned. What bothers me is a particular nexus of ideas: the “no-self” view in Buddhist metaphysics and its implications for ethical life. I’ve expressed my reservations more than once, in passing, first in
I agree with your objection to what you call Wright's second argument (about egoism).
However, this part about his first argument "But this argument makes no sense: if self-interest is a product of natural selection, so is concern for others." seems too quick.
It might be mistaken, but I suspect for empirical, rather than conceptual, reasons. One can think some or many traits are a result of natural selection; others may have evolved but not due to NS. They can be "spin off" or "side effects" of traits that did evolve by natural selection. (example: no one thinks Natural selection evolved a big brain to do calculus - yet - once you've got a big brain, you can do calculus).
So Wright seems to be claiming that our concern for ourselves might have evolved due to NS, but once we have the kind of cognitive and caring systems that have evolved for one reason, we can use them for other reasons (reasons for which they were not favoured by natural selection).
Humans, e.g., also have the ability to kill themselves - but most would think this is a mere "spin off" or side effect of other abilities that have evolved by NS for other reasons. So sometimes we can do things that aren't a result of NS. Imagine rational arguments for suicide in some cases. Apparently humans are capable of doing this (at least sometimes) even if (suppose) natural selection never favoured organisms that kill themselves.
So, in this case, some have suggested that our concern for ourselves (obviously), close family and friends might have been favoured by natural selection on grounds that it benefits the individual. (Don't know exactly what Wright means by "self interest", but this seems a plausible interpretation). Suppose that in relevant ancestral environments, most of those we cared for (including ourselves obvivously) did benefit the individual who cared for them (e.g., due to genetic relatedness or direct reciprocity, perhaps). But then suppose that the agents end up in new environments, where they extend and use these same cognitive systems to care for others, even when those others aren't close relatives.
This is one possible explanation for why we might care about strangers. Perhaps in the relevant ancestral environment NS didn't favour the trait of caring directly for strangers, but such care might be a "side effect" of the reasons it did evolve.
Of course, this is only one possible explanation. But I suspect it is the one Wright has in mind. (He is probably thinking here of the kind of argument that Dawkins and others run).
Another possibility would be that NS favours traits of individuals who do care both about themselves and close family members, but also about those they're not closely related to. This might be favoued by NS via "group selection": Groups of such individuals outcompete other groups that don't have individuals who have concern for strangers.
These are alternative empirical claims, of course. And there are other alternatives. If you're interested in what NS might tell us about whether psychological egoism etc. are true, you might look at Sober and Wilson's book, Unto Others.
But I don't see what is incoherent about Wright's view that a trait could evolve by NS for one reason, and then be used for another. IF he's right (a big "if") that our caring capacities mostly evolved by NS to aim at our self-interest, there is no conceptional problem with us then using those capacities to care for others. (This is also Singer's approach in his old book, The Expanding Circle, which you may know).
At any rate, this is a minor issue for you (though one I happen to be interested in, thus the long comment!). I'm sympathetic with your other objections to the no self view.
And I don't want my objections to this minor point of yours to conceal the fact that I enjoyed this post!
Point taken! You are right that self-interest might have been “selected for,” while concern for strangers, or the capacity for it, evolved as a byproduct of evolution by natural selection. It’s an empirical question.
What I was responding to, elliptically, is an argument in Wright’s book that the evolution of self-interest in some way undermines or vitiates its authority, in contrast with impartial concern for others. For Wright, the former is a product of the “distorting influence” of natural selection, which only cares about fitness, where the latter is not. I don’t see any reason to believe that the potential differences in evolutionary history you indicate have the significance Wright attributes to them—not that you say otherwise—but the way I put this in the post was careless. Thanks for the correction. And thanks for reading!
If the ‘buddhistic’ project is to have any substantial value, it has to be understood at the level of a quest or a search for a decisive resolution of the enigma of the human condition – in which this condition is itself understood to be provocatively and persistently unsatisfactory and perhaps even strangely unpleasant. The human condition calls for ‘some kind’ of a response, but to start with we are not sure exactly either what the problem is, or what kind of response would be appropriate.
Normally we first think in terms of improving the way we live our lives(time management, finding meaningful occupations, etc); then we think in terms of improving our ideas of things (looking for intellectual/philosophical/religious profundity etc), and ending up perhaps with a combination of both (ie devoting our lives to a seemingly meaningful cause). This kind of a solution works for many people, but not for those who take radical questioning seriously and are provoked into pursuing it; and this means those who take it seriously not in order to win arguments and discussions but because they can see that neither perfect lifestyles nor convincing doctrines come anywhere near resolving the ‘mystery of existence’.
What has this to do with ‘Buddhism’? With Buddhist religion and popular Buddhist doctrinal philosophy, almost nothing at all. Buddhist religious practice (in all its forms) is obviously irrelevant to any quest for metaphysical insight; as is all ‘belief’ and ‘believing’ in doctrines or received ideas, no matter how profound or convincing they might appear to the hapless quester.
And w has this to do with Wright’s book? The front flap of the dustwrapper summarises the situation like this: ‘At the heart of Buddhism is a simple claim: The reason we suffer -and the reason we make other people suffer – is that we don’t see the world clearly. At the heart of Buddhist meditative practice is a radical promise: we can learn to see the world, including ourselves, more clearly, and so gain a deep and morally valid happiness.’ The book itself is subtitled ‘The Science and Philosophy of Meditation and Enlightenment’.
Boilerplate New Age kumbaya doesn’t even attempt to confront the most interesting questions human beings can ask; it just encourages us to try to believe a few silly ideas and let the resulting ‘deep happiness’(!?) put the rest of it to bed. And what are the most interesting questions we can ask? ‘What is the point of existence?’ ‘What is the point of all of this?’ ‘Why is there existence in the first place?’ ’What’s all this experiential confusion for?’ ‘Why is there a ‘why’?’ ‘What could resolve the ‘why? of why?’ for once and for all?’ (And so on, in that vein.) Nothing in any of these questions about ‘God’ or ‘me’ or ‘Buddha’ or ‘life’ or ‘utopia’ in any shape or form: it’s about wanting to get to the core of things, such that nothing whatever remains to be subject to questioning, uncertainty and confusion. Such questioning is neither personal nor impersonal: it’s simply knocking on the last conceivable door available for us to knock at.
Now of all the religious and philosophical attempts at presenting a type of template or model or exemplar of how best we should approach the metaphysical confusion we find ourselves in, Buddhism is the only one with an illustrative radical quest at its centre: the Buddha gave up everything in a quest for a decisive resolution to the mystery of existence. Yes of course this radical quest has been completely overlaid with all kinds of doctrinal and methodological garbage over the years, but that need not detain us. So should those of us who want to follow the path of radical questioning and radical metaphysical exploration identify ourselves with ‘Buddhism’? It makes no real difference one way or the other, but when in discussion with others it acts as a useful ‘point of orientation’ – ie gives other people some idea of what one is ‘on about’ – but of course one then has immediately to qualify the label by explaining that it has nothing to do with ‘mindfulness’ and ‘reincarnation’ and ‘meditation’ and any of the other myriad received ideas associated with Buddhist religion and practice.
I really like this post, partly because it skillfully articulates reservations I have had for a long time about Buddhist metaphysics. But it is also personally gratifying to finally see some intellectual firepower directed toward metaphysical claims which, frankly, set off my bullshit detector.
I appreciate your well written and thought provoking critique of the Buddhist concept of no-self. However, I think you might be misunderstanding it. Full disclosure, I identify as a Buddhist, but I'm no monk or Buddhist scholar.
The misunderstanding of the no-self doctrine begins with the assumption that it denies the existence of the self altogether. This interpretation is overly simplistic and misses the nuanced Buddhist perspective. Anatta does not negate the experiential reality of a personal identity; rather, it denies the existence of a permanent, unchanging self. According to Buddhist thought, what we consider the "self" is a dynamic aggregation of physical and mental processes (the five aggregates) that are in constant flux. This insight aligns with the doctrine of impermanence (anicca) and provides a framework for understanding the self as interdependent and ever-changing.
Contrary to the critique that anatta lacks ethical implications (or has negative ones), the realization of no-self profoundly impacts ethical behavior. Recognizing the interdependence of all beings fosters a sense of universal compassion (karuna) and loving-kindness (metta). When the rigid boundaries between self and other dissolve, the ethical motivation to alleviate the suffering of others arises. This shift from self-centered to other-centered ethics is not only logically coherent but also deeply transformative. The interconnectedness highlighted by anatta encourages altruism and diminishes selfish desires, aligning with core Buddhist ethical principles.
Critics often argue that the supernatural elements of Buddhist sutras are incompatible with contemporary scientific understanding. While it is true that certain mythological aspects of Buddhist texts may seem at odds with modern science, the experiential practices and insights derived from Buddhism are not. Mindfulness and meditation, practices rooted in the understanding of no-self, have been empirically shown to reduce stress, enhance emotional regulation, and improve overall well-being. These benefits are well-documented in scientific literature and do not rely on supernatural claims but on the careful observation and manipulation of mental states.
The critique also posits that the no-self view is philosophically incoherent. This assertion stems from a failure to grasp the practical and experiential dimensions of anatta. The no-self view is not an abstract metaphysical claim but a practical tool for understanding the nature of suffering (dukkha) and the path to liberation (nirvana). By recognizing the impermanent and interdependent nature of the self, practitioners can let go of attachments and aversions, leading to a reduction in suffering and a more ethical way of living. This pragmatic approach to metaphysics is both logically consistent and practically beneficial.
The practical implications of anatta are evident in the ethical conduct of Buddhist practitioners. Far from being an esoteric doctrine, the realization of no-self guides everyday behavior by reducing egocentrism and promoting empathy. Understanding that one's actions have far-reaching consequences in an interconnected web of existence encourages ethical responsibility and compassionate action. This ethical framework, grounded in the experiential insights of anatta, is not only coherent but also aligns with the goals of reducing suffering and fostering well-being.
The critique of the Buddhist no-self view as a radical, incoherent, and ethically insignificant metaphysical claim fails to engage with the depth and nuance of the doctrine. Properly understood, anatta provides a logically consistent framework for understanding the self, with profound ethical implications and practical benefits validated by modern science. By embracing the insights of anatta, we can cultivate a more compassionate, ethical, and harmonious world, grounded in the wisdom of interconnectedness and impermanence.
I love this, but I have been skeptical of Buddhism ever since I read Nietzsche Will to Power, where he excoriates Buddhism as philosophical nihilism on par with Christianity.
Hi Kieran
I agree with your objection to what you call Wright's second argument (about egoism).
However, this part about his first argument "But this argument makes no sense: if self-interest is a product of natural selection, so is concern for others." seems too quick.
It might be mistaken, but I suspect for empirical, rather than conceptual, reasons. One can think some or many traits are a result of natural selection; others may have evolved but not due to NS. They can be "spin off" or "side effects" of traits that did evolve by natural selection. (example: no one thinks Natural selection evolved a big brain to do calculus - yet - once you've got a big brain, you can do calculus).
So Wright seems to be claiming that our concern for ourselves might have evolved due to NS, but once we have the kind of cognitive and caring systems that have evolved for one reason, we can use them for other reasons (reasons for which they were not favoured by natural selection).
Humans, e.g., also have the ability to kill themselves - but most would think this is a mere "spin off" or side effect of other abilities that have evolved by NS for other reasons. So sometimes we can do things that aren't a result of NS. Imagine rational arguments for suicide in some cases. Apparently humans are capable of doing this (at least sometimes) even if (suppose) natural selection never favoured organisms that kill themselves.
So, in this case, some have suggested that our concern for ourselves (obviously), close family and friends might have been favoured by natural selection on grounds that it benefits the individual. (Don't know exactly what Wright means by "self interest", but this seems a plausible interpretation). Suppose that in relevant ancestral environments, most of those we cared for (including ourselves obvivously) did benefit the individual who cared for them (e.g., due to genetic relatedness or direct reciprocity, perhaps). But then suppose that the agents end up in new environments, where they extend and use these same cognitive systems to care for others, even when those others aren't close relatives.
This is one possible explanation for why we might care about strangers. Perhaps in the relevant ancestral environment NS didn't favour the trait of caring directly for strangers, but such care might be a "side effect" of the reasons it did evolve.
Of course, this is only one possible explanation. But I suspect it is the one Wright has in mind. (He is probably thinking here of the kind of argument that Dawkins and others run).
Another possibility would be that NS favours traits of individuals who do care both about themselves and close family members, but also about those they're not closely related to. This might be favoued by NS via "group selection": Groups of such individuals outcompete other groups that don't have individuals who have concern for strangers.
These are alternative empirical claims, of course. And there are other alternatives. If you're interested in what NS might tell us about whether psychological egoism etc. are true, you might look at Sober and Wilson's book, Unto Others.
But I don't see what is incoherent about Wright's view that a trait could evolve by NS for one reason, and then be used for another. IF he's right (a big "if") that our caring capacities mostly evolved by NS to aim at our self-interest, there is no conceptional problem with us then using those capacities to care for others. (This is also Singer's approach in his old book, The Expanding Circle, which you may know).
At any rate, this is a minor issue for you (though one I happen to be interested in, thus the long comment!). I'm sympathetic with your other objections to the no self view.
And I don't want my objections to this minor point of yours to conceal the fact that I enjoyed this post!
Best,
Chris Stephens
Point taken! You are right that self-interest might have been “selected for,” while concern for strangers, or the capacity for it, evolved as a byproduct of evolution by natural selection. It’s an empirical question.
What I was responding to, elliptically, is an argument in Wright’s book that the evolution of self-interest in some way undermines or vitiates its authority, in contrast with impartial concern for others. For Wright, the former is a product of the “distorting influence” of natural selection, which only cares about fitness, where the latter is not. I don’t see any reason to believe that the potential differences in evolutionary history you indicate have the significance Wright attributes to them—not that you say otherwise—but the way I put this in the post was careless. Thanks for the correction. And thanks for reading!
Hope this is of interest.
If the ‘buddhistic’ project is to have any substantial value, it has to be understood at the level of a quest or a search for a decisive resolution of the enigma of the human condition – in which this condition is itself understood to be provocatively and persistently unsatisfactory and perhaps even strangely unpleasant. The human condition calls for ‘some kind’ of a response, but to start with we are not sure exactly either what the problem is, or what kind of response would be appropriate.
Normally we first think in terms of improving the way we live our lives(time management, finding meaningful occupations, etc); then we think in terms of improving our ideas of things (looking for intellectual/philosophical/religious profundity etc), and ending up perhaps with a combination of both (ie devoting our lives to a seemingly meaningful cause). This kind of a solution works for many people, but not for those who take radical questioning seriously and are provoked into pursuing it; and this means those who take it seriously not in order to win arguments and discussions but because they can see that neither perfect lifestyles nor convincing doctrines come anywhere near resolving the ‘mystery of existence’.
What has this to do with ‘Buddhism’? With Buddhist religion and popular Buddhist doctrinal philosophy, almost nothing at all. Buddhist religious practice (in all its forms) is obviously irrelevant to any quest for metaphysical insight; as is all ‘belief’ and ‘believing’ in doctrines or received ideas, no matter how profound or convincing they might appear to the hapless quester.
And w has this to do with Wright’s book? The front flap of the dustwrapper summarises the situation like this: ‘At the heart of Buddhism is a simple claim: The reason we suffer -and the reason we make other people suffer – is that we don’t see the world clearly. At the heart of Buddhist meditative practice is a radical promise: we can learn to see the world, including ourselves, more clearly, and so gain a deep and morally valid happiness.’ The book itself is subtitled ‘The Science and Philosophy of Meditation and Enlightenment’.
Boilerplate New Age kumbaya doesn’t even attempt to confront the most interesting questions human beings can ask; it just encourages us to try to believe a few silly ideas and let the resulting ‘deep happiness’(!?) put the rest of it to bed. And what are the most interesting questions we can ask? ‘What is the point of existence?’ ‘What is the point of all of this?’ ‘Why is there existence in the first place?’ ’What’s all this experiential confusion for?’ ‘Why is there a ‘why’?’ ‘What could resolve the ‘why? of why?’ for once and for all?’ (And so on, in that vein.) Nothing in any of these questions about ‘God’ or ‘me’ or ‘Buddha’ or ‘life’ or ‘utopia’ in any shape or form: it’s about wanting to get to the core of things, such that nothing whatever remains to be subject to questioning, uncertainty and confusion. Such questioning is neither personal nor impersonal: it’s simply knocking on the last conceivable door available for us to knock at.
Now of all the religious and philosophical attempts at presenting a type of template or model or exemplar of how best we should approach the metaphysical confusion we find ourselves in, Buddhism is the only one with an illustrative radical quest at its centre: the Buddha gave up everything in a quest for a decisive resolution to the mystery of existence. Yes of course this radical quest has been completely overlaid with all kinds of doctrinal and methodological garbage over the years, but that need not detain us. So should those of us who want to follow the path of radical questioning and radical metaphysical exploration identify ourselves with ‘Buddhism’? It makes no real difference one way or the other, but when in discussion with others it acts as a useful ‘point of orientation’ – ie gives other people some idea of what one is ‘on about’ – but of course one then has immediately to qualify the label by explaining that it has nothing to do with ‘mindfulness’ and ‘reincarnation’ and ‘meditation’ and any of the other myriad received ideas associated with Buddhist religion and practice.
I really like this post, partly because it skillfully articulates reservations I have had for a long time about Buddhist metaphysics. But it is also personally gratifying to finally see some intellectual firepower directed toward metaphysical claims which, frankly, set off my bullshit detector.
I appreciate your well written and thought provoking critique of the Buddhist concept of no-self. However, I think you might be misunderstanding it. Full disclosure, I identify as a Buddhist, but I'm no monk or Buddhist scholar.
The misunderstanding of the no-self doctrine begins with the assumption that it denies the existence of the self altogether. This interpretation is overly simplistic and misses the nuanced Buddhist perspective. Anatta does not negate the experiential reality of a personal identity; rather, it denies the existence of a permanent, unchanging self. According to Buddhist thought, what we consider the "self" is a dynamic aggregation of physical and mental processes (the five aggregates) that are in constant flux. This insight aligns with the doctrine of impermanence (anicca) and provides a framework for understanding the self as interdependent and ever-changing.
Contrary to the critique that anatta lacks ethical implications (or has negative ones), the realization of no-self profoundly impacts ethical behavior. Recognizing the interdependence of all beings fosters a sense of universal compassion (karuna) and loving-kindness (metta). When the rigid boundaries between self and other dissolve, the ethical motivation to alleviate the suffering of others arises. This shift from self-centered to other-centered ethics is not only logically coherent but also deeply transformative. The interconnectedness highlighted by anatta encourages altruism and diminishes selfish desires, aligning with core Buddhist ethical principles.
Critics often argue that the supernatural elements of Buddhist sutras are incompatible with contemporary scientific understanding. While it is true that certain mythological aspects of Buddhist texts may seem at odds with modern science, the experiential practices and insights derived from Buddhism are not. Mindfulness and meditation, practices rooted in the understanding of no-self, have been empirically shown to reduce stress, enhance emotional regulation, and improve overall well-being. These benefits are well-documented in scientific literature and do not rely on supernatural claims but on the careful observation and manipulation of mental states.
The critique also posits that the no-self view is philosophically incoherent. This assertion stems from a failure to grasp the practical and experiential dimensions of anatta. The no-self view is not an abstract metaphysical claim but a practical tool for understanding the nature of suffering (dukkha) and the path to liberation (nirvana). By recognizing the impermanent and interdependent nature of the self, practitioners can let go of attachments and aversions, leading to a reduction in suffering and a more ethical way of living. This pragmatic approach to metaphysics is both logically consistent and practically beneficial.
The practical implications of anatta are evident in the ethical conduct of Buddhist practitioners. Far from being an esoteric doctrine, the realization of no-self guides everyday behavior by reducing egocentrism and promoting empathy. Understanding that one's actions have far-reaching consequences in an interconnected web of existence encourages ethical responsibility and compassionate action. This ethical framework, grounded in the experiential insights of anatta, is not only coherent but also aligns with the goals of reducing suffering and fostering well-being.
The critique of the Buddhist no-self view as a radical, incoherent, and ethically insignificant metaphysical claim fails to engage with the depth and nuance of the doctrine. Properly understood, anatta provides a logically consistent framework for understanding the self, with profound ethical implications and practical benefits validated by modern science. By embracing the insights of anatta, we can cultivate a more compassionate, ethical, and harmonious world, grounded in the wisdom of interconnectedness and impermanence.
I love this, but I have been skeptical of Buddhism ever since I read Nietzsche Will to Power, where he excoriates Buddhism as philosophical nihilism on par with Christianity.