One of my pet peeves with a lot of ethical philosophy is that it either weakly addresses, or entirely skips the question of "why care?" For this reason, I've tried to keep in mind that foundational issue as I've proceeded. In the past, I have written some reasons on "why be good", such as in my Principles of Socio-Personal Humanism, 2.4 "The Basis of Secular Ethics", I give a lot of answers to the question. But the basic approach I take there is this: Here are some reasons, listed from the most shallow, to the most profound, and as you practice ethics, you find the more profound reasons become more important to you, even if they seemed unimportant at first. I recall Kurtz's listing of stages of moral development.
The problem with that approach is that I basically present a lot of reasons, some of them obviously advantageous to those who might ask 'why be good', and the rest of them irrelevant to such a person - and then I go about 'shaming' them into the more profound reasons by telling them it's part of being more ethically mature. Not a really solid line of argument.
But then the realization happened, which is the purpose of this post...
That realization has made me understand how each of those different reasons work together in a system which links them all together. Basically, it starts with a simple odds assessment:
1) We can see that bad actions, if discovered, will lead to bad consequences for us socially, legally, or otherwise. We might try to get away with it once, but ultimately over a lifetime of performing bad actions, the statistical likelihood of being found out approaches near certainty.
2) Given human psychology, it only takes one or two such discoveries to 'pigeonhole' us for a long, long time in the minds of peers.
3) We might think we can perform bad actions only once in a while, or only when being really careful, or only when our emotional urges are exceptionally strong. However, even the most extreme of temptations are likely to happen several times to us throughout life, and no matter how careful we are, we are talking about many decades of life and statistically, we are going to have all sorts of trouble with any kind of bad behavior even slightly approaching 'regular'. Worse behaviors require only one flub to forever generate consequences not worth the aim of the original behavior.
4) So, the wise course is to set about a long term plan of behavior which, even over the long term, will yield statistically good results. But here's the catch: human beings are not typically strong enough to resist all of the various urges and temptations they may encounter while having a nature so coldly calculating. The task would seem to be a near impossibility.
5) This is where character development comes in. If we begin a program of molding our character in such a way that is more inclined to good actions and disinclined toward bad actions, then it becomes much easier to live according to a rational plan of behavior. It is easier to resist temptations and habit building makes it easier to perform more actions which will be admired by peers.
6) At that point, we will begin to enjoy deeper more fulfilling relationships. This feedback, plus the character development, will nurture a certain subset of our instinctive emotional responses, such as empathy and compassion. This will happen automatically as we set about habit building and the fruits thereof.
7) As these instincts are nurtured, and as our intellectual and behavioral norms change, we eventually become open to other lines of argument for being good, which the basic beginner asking "why should I be good?" would find irrelevant or unimportant. At this point, we are living so in tune with our full nature as social beings, that we can enjoy a contentment that is scarcely available to the surface-level agent who makes materialistic and short-term calculations for each individual action as it comes up.
8) There is an intellectual thread that follows in all this, whereby hardships are approached with greater skill and fascinating concepts enrich life and make happiness possible that is independent of material circumstances. This would include things like Stoic and Buddhist teachings and, more importantly, practices.
All of this must be experienced to be fully understood or appreciated by the surface-level agent.
Anyway, that is the general concept. I just rattled it off the top of my head to get it into my journal here for future reference, but I thought the idea of how these things connect and interrelate was worthy enough to make note of.
Of course, we are rarely so able to perfectly enact this process. We are forever facing the temptations of a particular moment or action, and our characters are never perfected completely. Nevertheless, to whatever degree we achieve this process is the degree to which eudaimonia becomes possible.
But suppose someone traveled this path with perfection from the beginning of life. Such a person would be indifferent to the material. Is it really possible to have eudaimonia without experiencing any of the delightful individual-level experiences in life, materialistic as though they may be? If a person could have such experiences, would it be worth a few interruptions of their perfect path to eudaimonia to at least enjoy them here and there? Maybe a little hardship such materialism may cause might be worth it to really live?
Of course, I'm in no danger of living a perfectly ethical and stoic life, try though I might. But the thought experiment of the perfect practitioner does give me pause and wonder about the absolute validity of the stoic approach.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Haze of Chemicals: Buddhism/Stoicism
Of course, as our moods change and we go through the ups and downs of anger and elation, certain choices seem more or less proper to us.
But normally, the rational person should imagine that we start with facts as best as we can determine them, then deduce and induce from those facts using logic. With that in mind, we approximate which actions will be most likely to achieve our goals, and then we proceed with those actions.
It is disturbing then, to realize that an action that seemed worthy to me one minute, may seem unwise a few minutes later after my mood has changed (or vice versa). This happens even though my understanding of the facts remains the same, I have found no errors in my logic, and all of my beliefs about the situation are unchanged. Angry-me sees situation x, and thinks action y is appropriate, but happy-me thinks action y inappropriate even though happy-me fully agrees that the situation is x.
What's interesting is that it is not that my understanding or opinion of the facts changes, but its simply that I weigh their significance in relation to one another differently. I also weigh the importance of different goals differently depending on mood.
So the question is: how do I go about seeing clearly through this hazy pool of chemicals in which my brain is swimming as it goes through its different moods? Why does the relative weight assigned to different facts and goals vary in accordance with these chemical fluctuations, and what is the "right weight" to give them? What means can I use to see through the fog and maintain the correct proportion of emphasis between different facts and goals despite those chemical upheavals?
My immediate response is that I have not fully internalized the essence of stoic teachings. The theory is that were I to do so, my responses would be automatically in tune with the "right weight" between different facts and goals.
However, what concerns me is, I believe I do fully accept and understand many things that are true throughout the experience. I really, deep down, believe that throwing a hammer across the room will not alleviate my throbbing thumb. I really believe it when I am calm, and I really believe it even as I throw the hammer. This is causing me to rethink (my application of) stoic teachings.
I am convinced that they are valuable and true, but I may be expecting their application in the wrong ways - at least at this time. For example, I think that long term despair and anger can certainly be drastically changed through stoic teachings - I have experienced this directly. But when it comes to immediate responses, the human being is dealing with a rush of chemical factors in the brain that are simply mechanically overwhelming to its normal function. It would be superhuman to resist the surge of stress and not react.
I think the stoic advocate would respond by saying that if I really thought an injured thumb or an injured ego were not an 'evil', that the body would not create those chemical rushes in the first place, and there would be nothing to have to resist.
I think that is a valid argument, and I have used it myself. Perhaps the process of internalizing stoic teaching fully involves moving that perception such that it applies in more and more immediate situations over time. So, the more deeply embedded the truths of stoic teaching, the more immediate a situation can be while maintaining the proper reaction. Thus, a new student of stoicism can understand and apply the teachings to alleviate long term troubles, while a more advanced practitioner of stoicism can remain in equilibrium through more immediate trying times, perhaps losing it under the most sudden and extreme moments. Then, the perfect hypothetical Sage would have the teachings so deeply ingrained in his perception and thoughts, that no moment, no matter how sudden or extreme, could generate pathos in him.
But it still brings me back to what to do in the meantime. This is where I think Buddhist mindfulness may help to provide a more practical, accessible, and immediate measure to fill in the gaps where our stoic practice is failing.
Unlike the stoic model, in which we work to adjust our perceptions of 'harm' such that the negative passion never even arises, Buddhist mindfulness takes place after and during the arising of the passion. Through mindfulness, we seek to stay aware of our passion as it arises, as though we were a third-person witness. Here we are able to both acknowledge and distance ourselves from the passion and thereby allow it to come and pass, without falling prey to it or mindlessly going along with it as a chemical-driven robot.
Of course, as with the internalization of stoic teaching, mindfulness is also a practice that requires effort to become more adept. I characterized mindfulness before as more accessible and practical; this, because my perception is that its somewhat easier to see results sooner with the more sudden and immediate challenges to our equilibrium. At the same time, mindfulness seems less capable of addressing long term despair that is based on larger scale perceptions of our condition. Here is where stoic teaching provides a more immediate benefit.
Buddhists would say that, through the teaching of detachment, we handle the longer-term matters. Yet, I have not found in Buddhism a specific means of achieving detachment that has been as powerful as stoic teachings.
These thoughts are perhaps starting to get into the real detail on how stoicism and Buddhism relate in their practice, and where and how they might compliment one another. It could be possible, that Buddhism and Stoicism start at opposite ends of the "short-term to long-term" spectrum of pathos, and through perfect practice in both, one comes to see their teachings as unified.
I will continue to study this and experiment.
But normally, the rational person should imagine that we start with facts as best as we can determine them, then deduce and induce from those facts using logic. With that in mind, we approximate which actions will be most likely to achieve our goals, and then we proceed with those actions.
It is disturbing then, to realize that an action that seemed worthy to me one minute, may seem unwise a few minutes later after my mood has changed (or vice versa). This happens even though my understanding of the facts remains the same, I have found no errors in my logic, and all of my beliefs about the situation are unchanged. Angry-me sees situation x, and thinks action y is appropriate, but happy-me thinks action y inappropriate even though happy-me fully agrees that the situation is x.
What's interesting is that it is not that my understanding or opinion of the facts changes, but its simply that I weigh their significance in relation to one another differently. I also weigh the importance of different goals differently depending on mood.
So the question is: how do I go about seeing clearly through this hazy pool of chemicals in which my brain is swimming as it goes through its different moods? Why does the relative weight assigned to different facts and goals vary in accordance with these chemical fluctuations, and what is the "right weight" to give them? What means can I use to see through the fog and maintain the correct proportion of emphasis between different facts and goals despite those chemical upheavals?
My immediate response is that I have not fully internalized the essence of stoic teachings. The theory is that were I to do so, my responses would be automatically in tune with the "right weight" between different facts and goals.
However, what concerns me is, I believe I do fully accept and understand many things that are true throughout the experience. I really, deep down, believe that throwing a hammer across the room will not alleviate my throbbing thumb. I really believe it when I am calm, and I really believe it even as I throw the hammer. This is causing me to rethink (my application of) stoic teachings.
I am convinced that they are valuable and true, but I may be expecting their application in the wrong ways - at least at this time. For example, I think that long term despair and anger can certainly be drastically changed through stoic teachings - I have experienced this directly. But when it comes to immediate responses, the human being is dealing with a rush of chemical factors in the brain that are simply mechanically overwhelming to its normal function. It would be superhuman to resist the surge of stress and not react.
I think the stoic advocate would respond by saying that if I really thought an injured thumb or an injured ego were not an 'evil', that the body would not create those chemical rushes in the first place, and there would be nothing to have to resist.
I think that is a valid argument, and I have used it myself. Perhaps the process of internalizing stoic teaching fully involves moving that perception such that it applies in more and more immediate situations over time. So, the more deeply embedded the truths of stoic teaching, the more immediate a situation can be while maintaining the proper reaction. Thus, a new student of stoicism can understand and apply the teachings to alleviate long term troubles, while a more advanced practitioner of stoicism can remain in equilibrium through more immediate trying times, perhaps losing it under the most sudden and extreme moments. Then, the perfect hypothetical Sage would have the teachings so deeply ingrained in his perception and thoughts, that no moment, no matter how sudden or extreme, could generate pathos in him.
But it still brings me back to what to do in the meantime. This is where I think Buddhist mindfulness may help to provide a more practical, accessible, and immediate measure to fill in the gaps where our stoic practice is failing.
Unlike the stoic model, in which we work to adjust our perceptions of 'harm' such that the negative passion never even arises, Buddhist mindfulness takes place after and during the arising of the passion. Through mindfulness, we seek to stay aware of our passion as it arises, as though we were a third-person witness. Here we are able to both acknowledge and distance ourselves from the passion and thereby allow it to come and pass, without falling prey to it or mindlessly going along with it as a chemical-driven robot.
Of course, as with the internalization of stoic teaching, mindfulness is also a practice that requires effort to become more adept. I characterized mindfulness before as more accessible and practical; this, because my perception is that its somewhat easier to see results sooner with the more sudden and immediate challenges to our equilibrium. At the same time, mindfulness seems less capable of addressing long term despair that is based on larger scale perceptions of our condition. Here is where stoic teaching provides a more immediate benefit.
Buddhists would say that, through the teaching of detachment, we handle the longer-term matters. Yet, I have not found in Buddhism a specific means of achieving detachment that has been as powerful as stoic teachings.
These thoughts are perhaps starting to get into the real detail on how stoicism and Buddhism relate in their practice, and where and how they might compliment one another. It could be possible, that Buddhism and Stoicism start at opposite ends of the "short-term to long-term" spectrum of pathos, and through perfect practice in both, one comes to see their teachings as unified.
I will continue to study this and experiment.
Monday, February 16, 2009
The 20 Synthophic Precepts, Why?
Recently I received this letter from a reader regarding my 20 Synthophic Precepts:
After a few years of study on the synchronicity between Stoicism, Buddhism, and modern Humanism (including scientific discoveries and naturalistic worldview), the 20 Synthophic Precepts was one of my first steps in outlining how the core concepts of each might work together cohesively, to lead from the ground up - starting with basic observations about the world, culminating in lifestyle and ethical prescriptives. I have found it was very useful to me in gelling my thoughts. From there, I have somewhat proceeded to "fill out" the precepts - meaning the rest is seen as elaboration on each of those to some degree - thus the 20 are like a skeleton.
In the meantime, if any of my work, including the 20 Synthophic Precepts, is found useful or even merely interesting by others - then so much the better. I also have gained from hearing the responses of others regarding them (and have modified them a bit in light of their input).
Hope that answers your question :)
Mr. Strain,Thanks much for your interest in my writing! Most of the work on my sites and blogs is, first and foremost, for my own benefit. I have always been interested in philosophy, but actively exploring philosophy and applying it to my life has become somewhat of a spiritual practice for me. Rather than accept any one philosophy/religion/tradition as one insuperable whole, however, I prefer to examine each aspect of it, whether it makes sense, works, etc. As such, I have found that many streams of thought have approached the same overlapping concepts. So, figuring out how these might fit together into a cohesive and consistent framework is much of what I do. My blogs and sites serve as a journal of sorts, that I can refer back to later and that assist me in my studies. I'd recommend any explorer of philosophy keep a journal of some sort, whether it be online or not.
...I finally checked out your site/blog, and the thing that stuck out most was your Twenty Synthophic Precepts. I enjoyed the syncretic aspect alot, but what I liked most was the stark rationality and reason underlying it.
So my question and reason for emailing you was, for what reason in particular did you write these?
After a few years of study on the synchronicity between Stoicism, Buddhism, and modern Humanism (including scientific discoveries and naturalistic worldview), the 20 Synthophic Precepts was one of my first steps in outlining how the core concepts of each might work together cohesively, to lead from the ground up - starting with basic observations about the world, culminating in lifestyle and ethical prescriptives. I have found it was very useful to me in gelling my thoughts. From there, I have somewhat proceeded to "fill out" the precepts - meaning the rest is seen as elaboration on each of those to some degree - thus the 20 are like a skeleton.
In the meantime, if any of my work, including the 20 Synthophic Precepts, is found useful or even merely interesting by others - then so much the better. I also have gained from hearing the responses of others regarding them (and have modified them a bit in light of their input).
Hope that answers your question :)
Friday, February 6, 2009
Obama Mentions Humanists at Prayer Breakfast
Don't hold me to this, but this may be a first: A U.S. President has specifically mentioned humanists.
On February 5, 2009, at the National Prayer Breakfast, President Obama stated:
Link to the President's Entire Message
.
On February 5, 2009, at the National Prayer Breakfast, President Obama stated:
"We know too that whatever our differences, there is one law that binds all great religions together. Jesus told us to “love thy neighbor as thyself.” The Torah commands, “That which is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow.” In Islam, there is a hadith that reads “None of you truly believes until he wishes for his brother what he wishes for himself.” And the same is true for Buddhists and Hindus; for followers of Confucius and for humanists. It is, of course, the Golden Rule – the call to love one another; to understand one another; to treat with dignity and respect those with whom we share a brief moment on this Earth."Another important part of that which is quoted above is how wonderful it is in general to hear this sort of message. It is right in line with Chapter 1 of The Noble Conspectus. It also references the universality of the Golden Rule, various versions of which I have listed in a post on a previous blog of mine HERE.
Link to the President's Entire Message
.
Greco-Buddhism
On the first day of this year, a Humanist in Florida named John sent me an email with a wealth of interesting information, and has sent more since then. Many thanks John! Among the things he's sent me has been a link to a fascinating Wikipedia article on Greco-Buddhism. I have been discovering the similarities in Greek Stoicism and Buddhism for a while now, so it was wonderful to find I'm not the only person out there thinking along these lines.
Click here for the Wikipedia article on Greco-Buddhism
In addition to the above, I should also note that in a previous philosophy site of mine I posted a rather lengthy discussion I had on the International Stoic Forum with several others regarding the differences and similarities between Buddhism and Stoicism: Click HERE for the article.
Speaking personally, I have found that Stoicism has been marvelous in terms of helping me to attain detachment and see the world more clearly. I think Buddhism could benefit from its teachings and practices. At the same time, I've found that Stoicism isn't as strong in the area of Compassion or active practices (over philosophic concepts) that raise mindfulness, and Buddhism has been wonderful for that.
After a period in which I, using Buddhism in part, actively sought to open up my compassion, I ended up experiencing a lot of pain as a result of the suffering of others and some treatment I received. So I asked other Buddhists how we can increase our compassion for others, without then suffering along with their own suffering? The answer was that it takes both compassion and wisdom. Stoicism has provided much of that wisdom, in which we see what is a true good and a true evil, and what are merely indifferents. Now, getting the fine details down of how these things balance and interact is likely the continual progressive search in which I'll find myself.
Click here for the Wikipedia article on Greco-Buddhism
In addition to the above, I should also note that in a previous philosophy site of mine I posted a rather lengthy discussion I had on the International Stoic Forum with several others regarding the differences and similarities between Buddhism and Stoicism: Click HERE for the article.
Speaking personally, I have found that Stoicism has been marvelous in terms of helping me to attain detachment and see the world more clearly. I think Buddhism could benefit from its teachings and practices. At the same time, I've found that Stoicism isn't as strong in the area of Compassion or active practices (over philosophic concepts) that raise mindfulness, and Buddhism has been wonderful for that.
After a period in which I, using Buddhism in part, actively sought to open up my compassion, I ended up experiencing a lot of pain as a result of the suffering of others and some treatment I received. So I asked other Buddhists how we can increase our compassion for others, without then suffering along with their own suffering? The answer was that it takes both compassion and wisdom. Stoicism has provided much of that wisdom, in which we see what is a true good and a true evil, and what are merely indifferents. Now, getting the fine details down of how these things balance and interact is likely the continual progressive search in which I'll find myself.
Dr. Randy Pausch
I would have liked to write this on the day that Dr. Randy Pausch passed away, July 25, 2008. However, I didn't have an active blog at the time. I would like to cover that period of time by posting this now...
A professor of computer science, human-computer interaction, and design at Carnegie Mellon University, Dr. Pausch's mother would introduce him as "a doctor, but not the kind who helps people".
Dr. Pausch was asked to give a lecture at Carnegie. This particular lecture series had been called "the last lecture" and the idea was that, hypothetically, if you had one last lecture to give before you died, that's on what the lecturer should speak. Except, in Dr. Pausch's case it wasn't hypothetical. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and at the time of the lecture, was told he had about 2-5 months left before he died.
The lecture Dr. Pausch gave was called "Achieving Your Childhood Dreams". However, the title was deceptive, because there was a larger lesson. Dr. Pausch's lecture became an internet phenomenon and he appeared on several television talk show and news programs afterwards. Before continuing this reading, it would be best to take about an hour and 15 minutes to watch his original lecture below. It will be time well spent...
I assume you've watched the above at this point. The reason I chose to jump on the internet bandwagon and discuss Dr. Pausch's lecture here on The Humanist Contemplative Blog, is because his message so closely aligns with the material on which I have written. In one lecture, Dr. Pausch single handedly broached the wisdom of Socrates, Epictetus, Buddha, and Marcus Aurelius.
Of course, it goes without saying that compassion is woven throughout the entirety of the touching lecture. At every opportunity in life, Dr. Pausch stops to consider how he might use his abilities to help others and offer them opportunities. More than that, he recognizes and conveys the benefits to the giver. Siddhartha Gautama (Buddha) couldn't have agreed more, and this is what is meant when I write in The Humanist Contemplative that compassion should be our foundation. In addition, Dr. Pausch points out the transitory nature of material things, as discussed in my 2nd Synthophic Precept, or in the second section on About Stoicism.
A professor of computer science, human-computer interaction, and design at Carnegie Mellon University, Dr. Pausch's mother would introduce him as "a doctor, but not the kind who helps people".
Dr. Pausch was asked to give a lecture at Carnegie. This particular lecture series had been called "the last lecture" and the idea was that, hypothetically, if you had one last lecture to give before you died, that's on what the lecturer should speak. Except, in Dr. Pausch's case it wasn't hypothetical. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and at the time of the lecture, was told he had about 2-5 months left before he died.
The lecture Dr. Pausch gave was called "Achieving Your Childhood Dreams". However, the title was deceptive, because there was a larger lesson. Dr. Pausch's lecture became an internet phenomenon and he appeared on several television talk show and news programs afterwards. Before continuing this reading, it would be best to take about an hour and 15 minutes to watch his original lecture below. It will be time well spent...
I assume you've watched the above at this point. The reason I chose to jump on the internet bandwagon and discuss Dr. Pausch's lecture here on The Humanist Contemplative Blog, is because his message so closely aligns with the material on which I have written. In one lecture, Dr. Pausch single handedly broached the wisdom of Socrates, Epictetus, Buddha, and Marcus Aurelius.
Of course, it goes without saying that compassion is woven throughout the entirety of the touching lecture. At every opportunity in life, Dr. Pausch stops to consider how he might use his abilities to help others and offer them opportunities. More than that, he recognizes and conveys the benefits to the giver. Siddhartha Gautama (Buddha) couldn't have agreed more, and this is what is meant when I write in The Humanist Contemplative that compassion should be our foundation. In addition, Dr. Pausch points out the transitory nature of material things, as discussed in my 2nd Synthophic Precept, or in the second section on About Stoicism.
First Post: Why?
For four years, from 2004 to 2008, I maintained a blog at least weekly, sometimes more - the DT Strain Philosophy Blog. Those entries are a record of a wonderful philosophic explosion that took place in my life, and I still look back to them for study and reminders of my explorations. Archives of those posts can be found at http://dtstrainphilosophyblog.blogspot.com.
However, I decided to take a break from blogging after finally coming to an important realization. Having been interested in philosophy for many years, I had always read, thought, discussed, and written on philosophic topics. While I was never a hypocrite, I always had this nagging feeling that I was waiting for something - like I was learning and learning and would eventually get to this point where I would say, "ok, now that I have it all figured out, I can apply this." But what occurred to me was that one can learn, discuss, read, and write philosophy all the live long day - and it is meaningless without practice.
It is the practice that is the important part, and we cannot wait until we have it all figured out, because that day will never come. Therefore, I took a step back from my blog and other writing for a time - even much of the reading. I resigned from various email lists I was on, and decided to stop focusing so much on the academic, and more on practice. I started meditating more, trying to live by my values more, and so on. I still haven't fully reached my best practice, but I'm making progress. I've even started regularly attending the Buddhist temple I wrote about in my former blog, with intentions to take some classes and eventually take refuge (that's the Buddhist ceremony in which one formally becomes a Buddhist).
However, after a time I found that many fascinating ideas continued to pass my way, and I felt like they were slipping past me. Before, I would often go back to my earlier blog posts as a journal, where I could be sure I wouldn't lose these insights and lessons.
So now, after this break, I think it's time to return to blogging. This time, however, things will be a little different. For one, this blog will be mostly for me - as a learning journal which I can use to refer to later and provide a record of my thoughts. That means I won't be making efforts to make sure I have at least one post per month, or that I put them out on the same day. Nor will I be looking at visitor statistics and trying to spread notice of my blog as actively as before (except one initial announcement to friends and family).
Why not simply keep a private journal? For one, I want to be able to reach its content from any computer anywhere I happen to be. Secondly, there may often be times I want to let a friend or associate know about some concept or idea I've put into a post, and then can simply give him the link. Thirdly, if others are out there and do happen to gain anything from what I'm learning or thinking about, then that is a good thing. Lastly, I have often received good ideas and thoughts from readers' comments, and there's no reason I should refuse myself that opportunity again.
In this blog, I expect to further chronicle my explorations of Humanism, Buddhism, Stoicism, and other important philosophies - but this time hopefully with more focus on the experiential aspects of developing a better practice. Hopefully this journal will help those practices, rather than distract from them with. Through this, what it means to be a Humanist Contemplative, the notion on which this overall site is based, may continue to develop further.
So, without further ado, let the journal/blogging begin! :)
However, I decided to take a break from blogging after finally coming to an important realization. Having been interested in philosophy for many years, I had always read, thought, discussed, and written on philosophic topics. While I was never a hypocrite, I always had this nagging feeling that I was waiting for something - like I was learning and learning and would eventually get to this point where I would say, "ok, now that I have it all figured out, I can apply this." But what occurred to me was that one can learn, discuss, read, and write philosophy all the live long day - and it is meaningless without practice.
It is the practice that is the important part, and we cannot wait until we have it all figured out, because that day will never come. Therefore, I took a step back from my blog and other writing for a time - even much of the reading. I resigned from various email lists I was on, and decided to stop focusing so much on the academic, and more on practice. I started meditating more, trying to live by my values more, and so on. I still haven't fully reached my best practice, but I'm making progress. I've even started regularly attending the Buddhist temple I wrote about in my former blog, with intentions to take some classes and eventually take refuge (that's the Buddhist ceremony in which one formally becomes a Buddhist).
However, after a time I found that many fascinating ideas continued to pass my way, and I felt like they were slipping past me. Before, I would often go back to my earlier blog posts as a journal, where I could be sure I wouldn't lose these insights and lessons.
So now, after this break, I think it's time to return to blogging. This time, however, things will be a little different. For one, this blog will be mostly for me - as a learning journal which I can use to refer to later and provide a record of my thoughts. That means I won't be making efforts to make sure I have at least one post per month, or that I put them out on the same day. Nor will I be looking at visitor statistics and trying to spread notice of my blog as actively as before (except one initial announcement to friends and family).
Why not simply keep a private journal? For one, I want to be able to reach its content from any computer anywhere I happen to be. Secondly, there may often be times I want to let a friend or associate know about some concept or idea I've put into a post, and then can simply give him the link. Thirdly, if others are out there and do happen to gain anything from what I'm learning or thinking about, then that is a good thing. Lastly, I have often received good ideas and thoughts from readers' comments, and there's no reason I should refuse myself that opportunity again.
In this blog, I expect to further chronicle my explorations of Humanism, Buddhism, Stoicism, and other important philosophies - but this time hopefully with more focus on the experiential aspects of developing a better practice. Hopefully this journal will help those practices, rather than distract from them with. Through this, what it means to be a Humanist Contemplative, the notion on which this overall site is based, may continue to develop further.
So, without further ado, let the journal/blogging begin! :)
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Some Precepts to Consider
I've been sitting on these for almost two years, occasionally adding to them or filling them out with references. I plan to consider adding more detail and links into them eventually, but I think I'm ready to post now. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the following:
THE 20 SYNTHOPHIC PRECEPTS
Update, January 30, 2008: I have made some wording adjustments after some questions by friends to be more clear. I have also added links in the notes section.
Update, January 30, 2008: I have made some wording adjustments after some questions by friends to be more clear. I have also added links in the notes section.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Not Half The Man I Used To Be
Recently in the Advayavada Network, Mike posted the following:Here's an interesting observation by the physicist and naturalist Steve Grand (naturalist in the sense that he finds no justification for believing in anything supernatural such as a soul, a spirit, or a god):In a sense Mike (and Steve Grand) is perfectly right. It's true that:
"Think of something from your childhood. Something you remember clearly, something you can see, feel, maybe even smell, as if you were really there.
After all, you really were there at the time, weren't you? How else would you remember it? But here is the bombshell: you weren't there. Not a single atom that is in your body today was there when that event took place. Matter flows from place to place and momentarily comes together to be you. What ever you are, therefore, you are not the stuff of which you are made."
This puts a new and interesting spin on Robin William's classic observation that, "If you remember the sixties you weren't there." It also gives a new point of entry into the question, "What, if anything, is the 'Self'?"
(a) Not an atom in my body was present at the event I remember, andThis is where complex systems theory comes in. In complexity science, there is a process called 'autopoiesis'. This is a process whereby you have a stable complex system that maintains its form, but every particle of which it is constructed switches out over time. Biological life forms are the most obvious example of this, but not the only. Another example of a structure that undergoes autopoiesis is the 'red spot' on Jupiter. In a more abstract sense, we might say that a mathematical formula embodies a structure of relationships whereby the actual variables can be exchanged without the structure being lost. I don't think that counts literally as autopoiesis but it might help communicate the concept.
(b) I am not the stuff (atoms) of which I am made.
Of course, all I've done here is given a name to the phenomenon Mike describes, and pointed out that the concept is addressed in science and that it is a very real thing.
Philosophically, this helps to point out that there are many things that are real and actually exist, but which are not particles per se - rather, they are relationships between particles. Other examples of 'relational facts' that are real but not supernatural and not physical would be 'democracy' or 'hive'.
In my essay, "A Naturalistic Approach to Buddhist Karma and Rebirth", I use the analogy of a wave to discuss how Karma can be a real thing without being a distinct 'force'. Like a wave, it is a conceptualization of relationships. We treat waves as real entities - even computing mathematical solutions concerning their activities. However, when we see a wave move from left to right, no "stuff" (to use Steve Grand's wording) has in fact moved from left to right. Merely, a relationship of cause and effect has taken place in one position, and the one next to it, the one next to that, and so on.
This is one key to understanding waves, understanding autopoiesis, understanding mind, understanding the Tao, understanding karma, understanding self, and understanding how we can be something other than our atoms without resorting to dualism or supernaturalism.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Are We All Faithful?
I'd like to use this post to respond to a comment I received from a theist regarding something I wrote. This comment refers to a general line of argument I have heard several times before, and it deserves addressing. It has to do with faith and we might call it the "everyone does it" argument (maybe there is a more technical name for this already). In any case, here is the form it recently took:
The author is correct in the last sentence of what he says. However, if we think closely about this, we can see that this is not a statement belonging to the faith-based side of the argument. This is a statement of empiricism. It is the empirical approach, which makes the profound realization that we "ALL operate on the basis of some things without adequate proofs". This is why the empirical approach is to say that we never know anything for certain, and must continually question and test our assumptions through a continuous pursuit of new evidence.
The faith-based position, on the other hand, says the opposite. When a believer says, "I believe in God", they are not claiming to "operate on the basis" of God existing "without adequate proof". To claim this is for the theist to put on empiricist clothes and seek to look like one of them for the sake of persuasion. In reality, the faithful mean something very different when they state their belief in God.
Rather, what the theist is saying is that "God is real" - he does in fact exist; not merely that they will "act as though God exists" for some pragmatic purpose. But it goes further than this. The theist claims to have knowledge of God's existence. This use of the word 'knowledge' is also very different than the empiricist's use of the word, for it is absolute. There is no such non-provision "knowledge" in the empiricist's lexicon. This faith-based 'knowledge' might come through some revelation or communion, through biblical teachings or experiences of events. All of these are very different than empirical methodology and miss the mark.
1) Revelation or communion:
This is a claim that knowledge (justified & true belief) can come to us through something other than our five senses. No such phenomenon has ever been shown to be true. Certainly empiricism is contrary to this belief.
2) Biblical teachings or events:
This is where someone claims to have 'figured out' that God exists by reading 'His word', or by observing something in nature, or by experiencing some unlikely event. Yet, if we are to examine the logic behind all of these claims, we find they violate core principles of empiricism.
So, it is the theist who believes that, contrary to "operating on the basis" of some things being true, he or she can "know" things with certainty, and without any (proved) causal connection between the object and the alleged knowledge in his or her head. This is why the faithful are not keen on their claims being tested and why they refer to changes in scientific theories over time as though it were a weakness rather than a strength. Arguments for faith and theism will commonly try to "wear empiricist clothes" but these are very different approaches to knowledge and one should be careful not to confuse them.
Yet, what if we look at empiricism itself, on its own merits? Doesn't empiricism rely on unproved axioms at some level?
At the base level of all knowledge, we ultimately can't know anything for certain, other than the fact that we, ourselves only, exist in some form or another. I might be a brain in a jar, or I might be some cosmic goo that's living a life of fantastic delusion. But at least I know there is something that is thinking about it because I'm the one doing the thinking. This was the essence of René Descartes' famous argument, "...I think, therefore I am".
No faith yet.
From there, we have to start making some assumptions. For one, we have to assume that what we can sense about ourselves and our surroundings are in some way connected to a reality of some type. It is true this is an assumption. However, how could we do anything unless we at least assume this?
Still, even this most fundamental of assumptions, for the empiricist, is but a pragmatic conceit. It is "operating on the basis of". And still, the true believer's claim that God exists exceeds even this foundational assumption in its certainty. Anything less would mean doubt, and men have been killed for less.
After this unavoidable 'foundational pragmatic assumption', we then get into matters of induction vs. deduction. Deduction is where we begin with known premises and end with a conclusion that follows from them. This form of logic is the most sound and, provided there is no faith within the premises, very few would argue faith is involved in these conclusions. That is, unless one wants to say that a computer or a robot can have 'faith'.
Induction is where things get trickier. With Inductive reasoning, we often move from the specific to the general, or from past experience to future prediction. For example, because the sun came up yesterday and all days previous, we will assume it will come up tomorrow. Because we have not been poisoned by carrots before, we will assume we can eat carrots in the future. Because all dogs we've seen have naturally had four legs, we will say that dogs, in general, have four legs. This is shakier than deduction because it is easy to go wrong. For example, if we had never seen a tree over 12 foot tall, we might induce that no trees are taller than 12 feet.
Yet, unfortunately, one will find that almost all thinking requires some form of induction. Even the strictest of deductive logic relies on some premises which result from induction, and even the belief that deductive logic is sound and will remain sound for all phenomena and all time is an act of induction.
In some of the very foundations of science, we inductively reason that physical laws apply universally, that they are internally consistent, that we can decipher them with logic and reason, and that knowing them gives us predictive power in computing future events. The very practice of science would not be possible without these inductions. This, no doubt, is to what the author of the comment above was referring.
The question we should examine is this: is induction equal to faith?
In other writings I have noted that 'faith' is used in many ways in our language, and it is important to delineate between them. I draw a distinction between 'faith' and 'confidence'. Often when we say, "I have faith in my friends" what we really mean is, "I have confidence in my friends". To test that out, imagine saying, "I have faith in that random stranger". We might let our friend hold our wallet but not the stranger. The difference here is that we have past experiences which give us a pattern by which we can make future predictions. Certainly the predictions are not infallible, since people and things can sometimes behave much differently than a past pattern suggests, and we cannot directly observe the future - but they would seem to be more reliable than taking random actions.
So, confidence is "belief because of the evidence." Meanwhile, the faith that people like myself criticize is "belief lacking evidence or possibly even despite the evidence" - a very big difference.
What induction is not is the reaching of a conclusion because of no evidence. Induction is also not the reaching of a conclusion based on things for which we have no reason to suspect are connected to our conclusion. This would completely rule out #1 above (revelation or communion). What's left would be #2, Biblical teachings or events.
Here we might be in the realm of induction. However, there is a range of quality and good sense between instances of induction. Not all induction is of the same quality (remember the good and bad examples mentioned above). Not only are faith and induction distinct, but the comment also implies that one induction is as good as the next. This is plainly not true.
It is at this point that we get into the basics of good skepticism. Carl Sagan said that "extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence" and that seems to be sensible advice. If I notice that after many times I leave my trash can in the street, a neighbor moves it onto my lawn, then I can reasonably suspect that it would happen again. Here we have a rather ordinary claim, and it requires only ordinary evidence. However, if I notice that many times I bet on the horse races and wore green socks, that I won, it would not be reasonable to induce that green socks were causally linked to my winning. That is because such a claim would be extraordinary, and the simple correlation between the green socks and winning at a bet would not be of an extraordinary level to justify such a claim.
The claim that an invisible all-powerful personified entity created the universe and plays a role in it is so extraordinary, that a reasonable person would need some sort of absolutely extraordinary evidence before deducing or inducing such a thing. And, even if such a thing were done, the layer upon layer of further extraordinary claims leading to the specifics of Christianity or any particular religion would each be even more extraordinary than the last because of their increasing specificity. Even if this could count as some form of induction, it is clear that it is of far less reasonable nature than the inductions normally employed by scientific empiricists.
In the end, however, it is doubtful faith-based notions even qualify as any form of sound logic or reasoning. At their heart, they are superstition and ideology from a previous irrational era in human history, and ultimately incompatible with even the basic foundations of modern human rationality. But that won't stop the faithful from trying (earnestly and honestly in most cases) to find some way of equating that irrationality with modern thought. By imagining there is some comparison, it makes it easier not to look squarely at the fact that they have been trapped by a medieval (at best) perversion of reason that preys on our weaknesses and imperfections as thinking beings. In this way, people convince themselves there is some compatibility between what they want to believe, and what they know makes rational sense - it is a coping mechanism.
The employment of this coping mechanism stems from a more fundamental belief that life is somehow meaningless without god/s or the supernatural, or that not believing in such is somehow immoral. Both of these misconceptions are deeply ingrained in our culture and history. Until someone understands the true (and secular) basis of ethics, and until they really understand that a meaningful and happy life is possible without supernatural beliefs, they will continue to harbor that strong desire to believe such things, and a deep fear of disbelieving them. Those desires and fears will continue to trump their good sense - the same good sense they are perfectly capable of applying in all of the other mundane situations in their life. Thus, they will concoct all manner of rationalizations and self deceptions to maintain unfounded beliefs. One of those rationalizations, which I have discussed here, is the attempt to equate empirical reasoning with superstitious faith.
"I have yet to find anyone, religious or atheist, who doesn't operate on faith. Both are highly dogmatic, as evidenced by the strength of your value judgments, which can only come from a priori, non-empirical stance. We ALL operate on the basis that some things are true, yet without adequate proofs."Before I can address this it is important to draw out and make plain all of the implications of the above statement. By saying that we "ALL" operate on the basis of some things without adequate proofs, the author is implying that empiricists are in the very same boat with all others. The author also implies there is no difference in the reasonableness and no distinction among varieties of belief or the sources from which they spring because ultimately, we all rely on faith. These are important implications and need to be put into words.
The author is correct in the last sentence of what he says. However, if we think closely about this, we can see that this is not a statement belonging to the faith-based side of the argument. This is a statement of empiricism. It is the empirical approach, which makes the profound realization that we "ALL operate on the basis of some things without adequate proofs". This is why the empirical approach is to say that we never know anything for certain, and must continually question and test our assumptions through a continuous pursuit of new evidence.
The faith-based position, on the other hand, says the opposite. When a believer says, "I believe in God", they are not claiming to "operate on the basis" of God existing "without adequate proof". To claim this is for the theist to put on empiricist clothes and seek to look like one of them for the sake of persuasion. In reality, the faithful mean something very different when they state their belief in God.
Rather, what the theist is saying is that "God is real" - he does in fact exist; not merely that they will "act as though God exists" for some pragmatic purpose. But it goes further than this. The theist claims to have knowledge of God's existence. This use of the word 'knowledge' is also very different than the empiricist's use of the word, for it is absolute. There is no such non-provision "knowledge" in the empiricist's lexicon. This faith-based 'knowledge' might come through some revelation or communion, through biblical teachings or experiences of events. All of these are very different than empirical methodology and miss the mark.
1) Revelation or communion:
This is a claim that knowledge (justified & true belief) can come to us through something other than our five senses. No such phenomenon has ever been shown to be true. Certainly empiricism is contrary to this belief.
2) Biblical teachings or events:
This is where someone claims to have 'figured out' that God exists by reading 'His word', or by observing something in nature, or by experiencing some unlikely event. Yet, if we are to examine the logic behind all of these claims, we find they violate core principles of empiricism.
So, it is the theist who believes that, contrary to "operating on the basis" of some things being true, he or she can "know" things with certainty, and without any (proved) causal connection between the object and the alleged knowledge in his or her head. This is why the faithful are not keen on their claims being tested and why they refer to changes in scientific theories over time as though it were a weakness rather than a strength. Arguments for faith and theism will commonly try to "wear empiricist clothes" but these are very different approaches to knowledge and one should be careful not to confuse them.
Yet, what if we look at empiricism itself, on its own merits? Doesn't empiricism rely on unproved axioms at some level?
At the base level of all knowledge, we ultimately can't know anything for certain, other than the fact that we, ourselves only, exist in some form or another. I might be a brain in a jar, or I might be some cosmic goo that's living a life of fantastic delusion. But at least I know there is something that is thinking about it because I'm the one doing the thinking. This was the essence of René Descartes' famous argument, "...I think, therefore I am".
No faith yet.
From there, we have to start making some assumptions. For one, we have to assume that what we can sense about ourselves and our surroundings are in some way connected to a reality of some type. It is true this is an assumption. However, how could we do anything unless we at least assume this?
Still, even this most fundamental of assumptions, for the empiricist, is but a pragmatic conceit. It is "operating on the basis of". And still, the true believer's claim that God exists exceeds even this foundational assumption in its certainty. Anything less would mean doubt, and men have been killed for less.
After this unavoidable 'foundational pragmatic assumption', we then get into matters of induction vs. deduction. Deduction is where we begin with known premises and end with a conclusion that follows from them. This form of logic is the most sound and, provided there is no faith within the premises, very few would argue faith is involved in these conclusions. That is, unless one wants to say that a computer or a robot can have 'faith'.
Induction is where things get trickier. With Inductive reasoning, we often move from the specific to the general, or from past experience to future prediction. For example, because the sun came up yesterday and all days previous, we will assume it will come up tomorrow. Because we have not been poisoned by carrots before, we will assume we can eat carrots in the future. Because all dogs we've seen have naturally had four legs, we will say that dogs, in general, have four legs. This is shakier than deduction because it is easy to go wrong. For example, if we had never seen a tree over 12 foot tall, we might induce that no trees are taller than 12 feet.
Yet, unfortunately, one will find that almost all thinking requires some form of induction. Even the strictest of deductive logic relies on some premises which result from induction, and even the belief that deductive logic is sound and will remain sound for all phenomena and all time is an act of induction.
In some of the very foundations of science, we inductively reason that physical laws apply universally, that they are internally consistent, that we can decipher them with logic and reason, and that knowing them gives us predictive power in computing future events. The very practice of science would not be possible without these inductions. This, no doubt, is to what the author of the comment above was referring.
The question we should examine is this: is induction equal to faith?
In other writings I have noted that 'faith' is used in many ways in our language, and it is important to delineate between them. I draw a distinction between 'faith' and 'confidence'. Often when we say, "I have faith in my friends" what we really mean is, "I have confidence in my friends". To test that out, imagine saying, "I have faith in that random stranger". We might let our friend hold our wallet but not the stranger. The difference here is that we have past experiences which give us a pattern by which we can make future predictions. Certainly the predictions are not infallible, since people and things can sometimes behave much differently than a past pattern suggests, and we cannot directly observe the future - but they would seem to be more reliable than taking random actions.
So, confidence is "belief because of the evidence." Meanwhile, the faith that people like myself criticize is "belief lacking evidence or possibly even despite the evidence" - a very big difference.
What induction is not is the reaching of a conclusion because of no evidence. Induction is also not the reaching of a conclusion based on things for which we have no reason to suspect are connected to our conclusion. This would completely rule out #1 above (revelation or communion). What's left would be #2, Biblical teachings or events.
Here we might be in the realm of induction. However, there is a range of quality and good sense between instances of induction. Not all induction is of the same quality (remember the good and bad examples mentioned above). Not only are faith and induction distinct, but the comment also implies that one induction is as good as the next. This is plainly not true.
It is at this point that we get into the basics of good skepticism. Carl Sagan said that "extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence" and that seems to be sensible advice. If I notice that after many times I leave my trash can in the street, a neighbor moves it onto my lawn, then I can reasonably suspect that it would happen again. Here we have a rather ordinary claim, and it requires only ordinary evidence. However, if I notice that many times I bet on the horse races and wore green socks, that I won, it would not be reasonable to induce that green socks were causally linked to my winning. That is because such a claim would be extraordinary, and the simple correlation between the green socks and winning at a bet would not be of an extraordinary level to justify such a claim.
The claim that an invisible all-powerful personified entity created the universe and plays a role in it is so extraordinary, that a reasonable person would need some sort of absolutely extraordinary evidence before deducing or inducing such a thing. And, even if such a thing were done, the layer upon layer of further extraordinary claims leading to the specifics of Christianity or any particular religion would each be even more extraordinary than the last because of their increasing specificity. Even if this could count as some form of induction, it is clear that it is of far less reasonable nature than the inductions normally employed by scientific empiricists.
In the end, however, it is doubtful faith-based notions even qualify as any form of sound logic or reasoning. At their heart, they are superstition and ideology from a previous irrational era in human history, and ultimately incompatible with even the basic foundations of modern human rationality. But that won't stop the faithful from trying (earnestly and honestly in most cases) to find some way of equating that irrationality with modern thought. By imagining there is some comparison, it makes it easier not to look squarely at the fact that they have been trapped by a medieval (at best) perversion of reason that preys on our weaknesses and imperfections as thinking beings. In this way, people convince themselves there is some compatibility between what they want to believe, and what they know makes rational sense - it is a coping mechanism.
The employment of this coping mechanism stems from a more fundamental belief that life is somehow meaningless without god/s or the supernatural, or that not believing in such is somehow immoral. Both of these misconceptions are deeply ingrained in our culture and history. Until someone understands the true (and secular) basis of ethics, and until they really understand that a meaningful and happy life is possible without supernatural beliefs, they will continue to harbor that strong desire to believe such things, and a deep fear of disbelieving them. Those desires and fears will continue to trump their good sense - the same good sense they are perfectly capable of applying in all of the other mundane situations in their life. Thus, they will concoct all manner of rationalizations and self deceptions to maintain unfounded beliefs. One of those rationalizations, which I have discussed here, is the attempt to equate empirical reasoning with superstitious faith.
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