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Existentialism, Stoicism, and Buddhism.
Jason
God EmperorArrakis Moderator
Please be forewarned that what you're about to read is undoubtedly flawed. I have a very limited understanding of Western philosophy in general, and I fully realize that what I present here isn't complete and probably incorrect in many respects. It is, more than anything, just a collection of thoughts that were inspired by a day of reading about Existentialism, Stoicism and Buddhism in relation to one particular paragraph. This was written for fun, and not intended to be taken as any sort of authority on the matter.
Until recently, Western philosophy wasn't one of my major interests, mainly because I didn't find much of it very interesting or useful. But lately, I've found myself increasingly drawn towards it, and that interest has grown out of my initial curiosity about the various 'isms' that people often compare to Buddhism. Out of these various philosophies and systems of thought, two have especially caught my attention—Stoicism and existentialism. These more than any of the others have elements that closely resemble ideas and concepts found within the Buddha's teachings.
Stoicism, for example, focuses on self-control, detachment, virtue, reason and finding inner peace by mastering human passion and emotions. Seneca's warning regarding "snares" in <a href="http://www.stoics.com/seneca_epistles_book_1.html#‘VIII1"><i>Moral Epistles</i></a> closely parallels that of the Buddha in <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.026.than.html">MN 26</a>, and his admonishment regarding food, clothing and shelter closely parallels that of the Buddha in <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.002.than.html">MN 2</a>. From this, it's easy to see the resemblance and why people new to Buddhism often compare the two. When it comes to explanations of what Existentialism focuses on, however, I've found it difficult to find any consensus, and opinions on this seem to vary from person to person. This is a notoriously hard philosophy to pin down, apparently. Even so, I decided to do my best, and while I was researching existentialism in order to gain a better understanding of it, I came across this paragraph from <a href="http://www.tameri.com/csw/exist/exist.html">The Existential Primer</a>:
<blockquote>Siddharta Gautama was appalled by suffering and chaos in the world. So much so, he left his wife and son to meditate on the meaning of everything. Unfortunately, he didn’t find answers among the gurus. There were no easy answers. In some ways, yes, Siddharta experienced an "existential" discovery: life is suffering.
But, Siddharta did not follow the existential notion of rebelling or fighting to establish a meaning. He did not openly challenge people and political leaders. Instead, he took a different approach:
<blockquote>When he met his first disciples at Benares after his enlightenment, the Buddha outlines his system, which was based on one essential fact: all existence was dukkha. It consisted entirely of suffering; life was wholly awry. Things come and go in meaningless flux. Nothing has permanent significance. Religion starts with the perception that something is wrong. […] The Buddha taught that is was possible to gain release from dukkha by living a life of compassion for all living beings, speaking and behaving gently, kindly and accurately, and refraining from anything like drugs or intoxicants that cloud the mind. - A History of God; Armstrong, p. 32</blockquote>
Unlike the existentialists, Siddharta is a stoic in nature: accept things as they are, don’t try to change them or control them. Curiously, this is rebellious in that it rejects social norms. Siddharta was rejecting the Hindu teachings of his time, much as Kierkegaard challenged the ritualized nature of Christianity. But, Siddharta was not an active rebel. He was, in many ways, teaching a passive resistance that the existentialists would reject.</blockquote>
In regard to this paragraph, I don't think it's fair to say that the Buddha wasn't existential because he was stoic—simply accepting things as they are, not trying to change them or control them in any way. In fact, this might not even be a fair characterization of the Stoics. While it's difficult to put the goal of the Buddha's path into words — as the limits of human language fail to express what's beyond conceptualization and conditions — I don't think Buddhism is accurately describe as stoic as described above, although the two certainly share similar elements between them. For one thing, the Buddha taught that the end of suffering was attainable, that <i>nibbana</i> — the cessation of greed, hatred and delusions — could be experienced here and now, provided that one put forth the right effort in the right direction by following what called the <a href=http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/thai/lee/pathtopeace.html">noble eightfold path</a>.
The problem of suffering as seen in Buddhism is that when we suffer, we become bewildered as to why we are suffering, and then we look for a way out—except we look in all the wrong places because we're confused about what suffering is, as well as what true happiness is. That's why the Buddha developed the four noble truths and formulated them in the same way that ancient Indian physicians formulated medical diagnoses (i.e., disease, cause, prognosis and treatment), so that we're able to comprehend suffering, abandon its cause, realize its cessation and develop the path to that cessation. Contrary to what C. S. Wyatt writes above, the Buddha was very much trying to change things via a process of self-transformation, going against the stream of craving in the form of renunciation (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/kn/iti/iti.4.100-112.than.html#iti-109">Iti 114</a>).
From the Buddhist perspective, many of the assumptions we make about ourselves and our experience of the world, particularly our attachment to views and doctrines of self, keep us rooted in "perceptions and categories of objectification" that continually assail us and our mental well-being (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.018.than.html">MN 18</a>), and passive acceptance of these faulty assumptions only serves to perpetuate them. The Buddha termed this mental process of conditionality by which suffering arises dependent co-arising (<i>paticca-samuppada</i>), and it's intimately tied into our sense of self, or ego if you prefer.
In fact, when looked at closely, the teachings on dependent co-arising, the five clinging-aggregates (<i>panca-upadana-khandha</i>) and not-self (<i>anatta</i>) are quite insightful in that they're the parts of Buddhism that correspond to parts of modern psychology. For one thing, they basically detail the process by which we construct our sense of self and, ultimately, how to utilize that process in more skillful ways.
The aggregates themselves, for example, aren't simply descriptions of what constitutes a human being as some people mistakenly think—they're one of the many ways of looking at and dividing up experience that we find throughout the Pali Canon (e.g., aggregates, elements, six sense-media, etc.). But more importantly, they represent the most discernible aspects of our experience on top of which we construct our sense of self in a process of, as the Buddha called it, "I-making" and "my-making" (e.g., <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.109.than.html">MN 109</a>).
The first noble truth states that, in short, the five clinging-aggregate are <i>dukkha</i> (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn56/sn56.011.than.html">SN 56.11</a>), i.e., it's the clinging in reference to the aggregates that's dukkha, not the aggregates themselves. But what does this really mean? To start with, according to the commentaries, dukkha is defined as 'that which is hard to bear.' In <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.009.ntbb.html">MN 9</a>, clinging is defined as:
<blockquote>"And what is clinging, what is the origin of clinging, what is the cessation of clinging, what is the way leading to the cessation of clinging? There are these four kinds of clinging: clinging to sensual pleasures, clinging to views, clinging to rituals and observances, and clinging to a doctrine of self. With the arising of craving, there is the arising of clinging. With the cessation of craving, there is the cessation of clinging. The way leading to the cessation of clinging is just this Noble Eightfold Path; that is, right view... right concentration.</blockquote>
In addition, the Buddha said that the five clinging-aggregates are not-self. He called them a burden, the taking up of which is "the craving that makes for further becoming" and the casting off of which is "the remainderless fading & cessation, renunciation, relinquishment, release, & letting go of that very craving" (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn22/sn22.022.than.html">SN 22.22</a>). The way I understand it, becoming (<i>bhava</i>) is a mental process, which arises due to the presence of clinging (<i>upadana</i>) in the mind with regard to the five-clinging aggregates, and acts as a condition for the birth (<i>jati</i>) of the conceit 'I am,' the self-identification that designates a being (<i>satta</i>).
Put more simply, there's rarely a moment when the mind isn't clinging to this or that in one or more of the four ways (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.011.ntbb.html">MN 11</a>). Our identity jumps from one thing to another, wherever the clinging is strongest. Our sense of self is something that's always in flux, ever-changing from moment to moment in response to various internal and external stimuli, and yet at the same time, we tend to see it as a static thing. It's as if our sense of self desires permanence, but its very nature causes it to change every second. As the Buddha warns in <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn12/sn12.061.than.html">SN 12.61</a>:
<blockquote>"It would be better for the uninstructed run-of-the-mill person to hold to the body composed of the four great elements, rather than the mind, as the self. Why is that? Because this body composed of the four great elements is seen standing for a year, two years, three, four, five, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, a hundred years or more. But what's called 'mind,' 'intellect,' or 'consciousness' by day and by night arises as one thing and ceases as another. Just as a monkey, swinging through a forest wilderness, grabs a branch. Letting go of it, it grabs another branch. Letting go of that, it grabs another one. Letting go of that, it grabs another one. In the same way, what's called 'mind,' 'intellect,' or 'consciousness' by day and by night arises as one thing and ceases as another.</blockquote>
Change is, of course, a fact of nature. All things are in a perpetual state of change, but the problem is that our sense of self ignores this reality on a certain level. From birth to death, we have the tendency to think that this 'I' remains the same. Now, we might know that some things have changed (e.g., our likes and dislikes, our age, the amount of wrinkles we have, etc.), but we still feel as if we're still 'us.' We have the illusion (for lack of a better word) that our identity is who we are, a static entity named [fill in the blank], and we tend to perceive this as being the same throughout our lives.
That said, the conventional use of personality is a function of survival, as well as convenience. However, clinging to our personalities as 'me' or 'mine' is seen as giving continued fuel for becoming, i.e., a mental process of taking on a particular kind of identity that arises out of clinging. Our sense of self, the ephemeral 'I,' is merely a mental imputation — the product of what the Buddha called a process of 'I-making' and 'my-making' — and when we cling to our sense of self as being 'me' or 'mine' in some way, we're clinging to an impermanent representation of something that we've deluded ourselves into thinking is fixed and stable. It becomes a sort of false refuge that's none of these things.
These attachments, particularly our attachment to views and doctrines of self, keep us rooted in "perceptions and categories of objectification" that continually assail our mental well-being. Thus, with the presence of clinging, the aggregates have the potential to become suffering (i.e., 'difficult to bear') when our sense of self encounters inconstancy. That's why the Buddha taught that whatever is inconstant is stressful, and whatever is stressful is <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn22/sn22.059.than.html">not-self</a>:
<blockquote>"What do you think, monks — Is form [same with feeling, perception, fabrications and consciousness] constant or inconstant?"
"Inconstant, lord."
"And is that which is inconstant easeful or stressful?"
"Stressful, lord."
"And is it fitting to regard what is inconstant, stressful, subject to change as: 'This is mine. This is my self. This is what I am'?"
"No, lord."
Thus, monks, any form [same with feeling, perception, fabrications and consciousness] whatsoever that is past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near: every form is to be seen as it actually is with right discernment as: 'This is not mine. This is not my self. This is not what I am.'</blockquote>
In order to break down the conceptual idea of a self (i.e., that which is satisfactory, permanent and completely subject to our control) in relation to the various aspects of our experience that we falsely cling to as 'me' or 'mine,' we must essentially take this [analytical] knowledge, along with a specific set of practices such as meditation, as a stepping stone to what I can only describe as a profound psychological event that radically changes the way the mind relates to experience.
This may be a bit of nonsense, but in one of the ways I like to look at it, the conventional viewpoint (<i>sammuti sacca</i>) explains things through subject, verb and object whereas the ultimate viewpoint (<i>paramattha sacca</i>) explains things through verb alone. In essence, things are being viewed from the perspective of activities and processes. This, I think, is incredibly difficult to see, but perhaps what happens here is that once self-identity view (<i>sakkaya-ditthi</i>) is removed, the duality of subject and object is also removed, thereby revealing the level of mere conditional phenomena, i.e., dependent co-arising in action.
This mental process is 'seen,' ignorance is replaced by knowledge and vision of things as they are (<i>yatha-bhuta-nana-dassana</i>), and nibbana, then, would be the 'letting go' of what isn't self through the dispassion (<i>viraga</i>) invoked in seeing the inconstant (<i>anicca</i>) and stressful (<i>dukkha</i>) nature of clinging to false refuges that are neither fixed nor stable (<i>anatta</i>). And without the presence of clinging in regard to the aggregates, they cease to be 'difficult to bear.'
Stoicism, on the other hand, has similar teachings, such as the development of self-control can lead to the overcoming of destructive/violent emotions. It also shares with Buddhism a strong focus on ethics, ethics that have their basis in 'natural laws' or patterns. At first glance, there seems to be little to distinguish the two until we come to the seemingly inherent contradiction between determinism and free will in the Stoic's doctrine of virtue (see Bertrand Russell's <i>A History of Western Philosophy</i>, pg. 254-255), and this is where I think Buddhism really distances itself from Stoicism.
Nevertheless, the Buddha taught that one can actively transcend this conditional process, that one can 'touch the deathless' in an experience that's unable to be satisfactorily expressed in words, and this is directly opposed to the idea that Buddhism simply boils down to the sheer acceptance of things as they are. The same thing can possibly be argued of Stoicism as well.
While a complete overview of Buddhist philosophy isn't possible to explain in such a brief comparison — as it'd have to include such time consuming topics as <a href="">kamma</a>, <a href="http://leavesinthehand.blogspot.com/2010/06/rebirth_12.html">rebirth</a>, <a href="http://leavesinthehand.blogspot.com/2010/06/emptiness.html">emptiness</a>, <a href="http://leavesinthehand.blogspot.com/2010/06/some-rambling-thoughts-on-nibbana.html">nibbana</a> and what they mean in relation to suffering and the end of suffering — I think it's clear from this short description that the Buddha wasn't 'stoic' in the sense that he taught one should be free from passion, unmoved by joy or grief by being passive and submissive to these natural laws or patterns of conditionality, but that one can and should transcend them altogether.
As for Existentialism, I think Buddhism is actually quite similar to that as well. As one person <a href="http://forums.randi.org/showthread.php?p=6182427#post6182427">aptly put it</a>:
<blockquote>"Enlightenment" is to eventually realize that all conceptions of the Self are simply that, mere conceptions, illusory, not the "Thing in Itself". In order to find the Self, one must give up being attached to any particular concept of the Self. In other words, its a way to see Reality as it is, without being attached to concepts of Reality.
This is why Buddhism is essentially Non-theistic, but in an Agnostic manner. It was basically an historical reaction to Hinduism which had developed very complex conceptions of the Self, but it is also complementary to Hinduism (or, as [Jason] points out, other local religions).
Some might suggest that Buddhism says that there is no Self, but I see it more as stating that there is no Ultimate Model of the Self. Thus it becomes a sort of philosophical dialectic, not merely in opposition to conceptualization, but in <i>balance</i> with it.</blockquote>
I think that out of the underlying concepts of Existentialism, or at least those that are put forward by C. S. Wyatt in the above article, one of the main reasons Buddhism shouldn't be considered 'existentialist' is the fact that the Buddha taught there are 'universal' (as in applying to all equally) guidelines for most decisions. This forms the basis of his teachings on <i>kamma</i>, the basic premise being there's a cause and effect relationship between our actions and how they're experienced. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu <a href="http://www.dhammatalks.org/Archive/091016 Prepare to Die.mp3">puts it</a>, "It's simply the fact of action—you do something unskillful, it's going to come back in an unpleasant way." In the same way, if you do something skillful, it's going to come back in a pleasant way.
In the Suttas, the Buddha defines kamma as intentional actions of body, speech and mind (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an06/an06.063.than.html">AN 6.63</a>) that have the potential to produce certain results, which, in turn, have the potential to produce pleasant, painful or neutral feelings (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an04/an04.235.than.html">AN 4.235</a>). The word itself simply means 'action.'
Pragmatically speaking, actions are deemed 'unskillful' (<i>akusala</i>) if they lead to to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both. Actions that don't lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both are deemed 'skillful' (<i>kusala</i>) (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.061.than.html">MN 61</a>). Therefore, the distinction between skillful and unskillful actions is based upon how their results are experienced—not only by us, but by others as well. (This emphasis on the consequential aspect of actions is similar to Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism, with John Stuart Mill's idea of higher and lower happiness being similar to the Buddha's distinction between long-term and short-term welfare and happiness.)
Psychologically speaking, however, the quality of the intentions behind the actions is what ultimately determines whether they're unskillful or skillful. (This aspect is closer to Kant's deontological categorical imperative when combined with the Buddhist principle of <i>ahimsa</i> or harmlessness.) Intentional actions rooted in greed, hatred or delusion produce painful mental feelings "like those of the beings in hell," while intentional actions rooted in non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion produce the opposite ("like those of the Beautiful Black Devas"). Then there are acts rooted in both that bring mixed results "like those of human beings, some devas, and some beings in the lower realms" (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an04/an04.235.than.html">AN 4.235</a>). By bringing kamma to an end, however, the mind is said to become free and undisturbed. This, I think, is also the essence of the famous passage from Leo Tolstoy's letter, "<a href="http://dwardmac.pitzer.edu/ANARCHIST_ARCHIVES/bright/tolstoy/toworkingpeople.html" target="_blank">To the Working People</a>":
<blockquote>People fare badly only because they themselves live badly. And there is no more injurious thought for people than that the causes of the wretchedness of their position is not in themselves, but in external conditions. A man or a society of men need but imagine that the evil experienced by them is due to external conditions and to direct their attention and efforts to the change of these external conditions, and the evil will be increased. But a man or a society of men need but sincerely direct their attention to themselves, and in themselves and their lives look for the causes of that evil from which they suffer, in order that these causes may be at once found and destroyed.</blockquote>
In conclusion, while I think there are valid reasons why the Buddha shouldn't be considered stoic or existential in nature, even though there are many similarities between them, it's unfair to say that the Buddha wasn't an active rebel, or that he was passive by any means. The Buddha actively rebelled against craving, against the assumptions we make about ourselves and our experience of the world and against the natural flow of worldly life itself. Instead of merely accepting things as they are, he gave up everything he was supposed to hold dear in order to discover a cure for what he believed to be the ultimate disease, human mental suffering.
In that search, he challenged everything from his assumptions, experiences and those of his companions, to society's ideas of what's truly valuable. He challenged everything until he was finally able to find a cure for this suffering, and then out of compassion, taught what he had discovered to those who were willing to listen. While the Buddha may not have openly challenged political leaders, he certainly didn't accept things as they are—he simply sought to change them from within.
Until recently, Western philosophy wasn't one of my major interests, mainly because I didn't find much of it very interesting or useful. But lately, I've found myself increasingly drawn towards it, and that interest has grown out of my initial curiosity about the various 'isms' that people often compare to Buddhism. Out of these various philosophies and systems of thought, two have especially caught my attention—Stoicism and existentialism. These more than any of the others have elements that closely resemble ideas and concepts found within the Buddha's teachings.
Stoicism, for example, focuses on self-control, detachment, virtue, reason and finding inner peace by mastering human passion and emotions. Seneca's warning regarding "snares" in <a href="http://www.stoics.com/seneca_epistles_book_1.html#‘VIII1"><i>Moral Epistles</i></a> closely parallels that of the Buddha in <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.026.than.html">MN 26</a>, and his admonishment regarding food, clothing and shelter closely parallels that of the Buddha in <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.002.than.html">MN 2</a>. From this, it's easy to see the resemblance and why people new to Buddhism often compare the two. When it comes to explanations of what Existentialism focuses on, however, I've found it difficult to find any consensus, and opinions on this seem to vary from person to person. This is a notoriously hard philosophy to pin down, apparently. Even so, I decided to do my best, and while I was researching existentialism in order to gain a better understanding of it, I came across this paragraph from <a href="http://www.tameri.com/csw/exist/exist.html">The Existential Primer</a>:
<blockquote>Siddharta Gautama was appalled by suffering and chaos in the world. So much so, he left his wife and son to meditate on the meaning of everything. Unfortunately, he didn’t find answers among the gurus. There were no easy answers. In some ways, yes, Siddharta experienced an "existential" discovery: life is suffering.
But, Siddharta did not follow the existential notion of rebelling or fighting to establish a meaning. He did not openly challenge people and political leaders. Instead, he took a different approach:
<blockquote>When he met his first disciples at Benares after his enlightenment, the Buddha outlines his system, which was based on one essential fact: all existence was dukkha. It consisted entirely of suffering; life was wholly awry. Things come and go in meaningless flux. Nothing has permanent significance. Religion starts with the perception that something is wrong. […] The Buddha taught that is was possible to gain release from dukkha by living a life of compassion for all living beings, speaking and behaving gently, kindly and accurately, and refraining from anything like drugs or intoxicants that cloud the mind. - A History of God; Armstrong, p. 32</blockquote>
Unlike the existentialists, Siddharta is a stoic in nature: accept things as they are, don’t try to change them or control them. Curiously, this is rebellious in that it rejects social norms. Siddharta was rejecting the Hindu teachings of his time, much as Kierkegaard challenged the ritualized nature of Christianity. But, Siddharta was not an active rebel. He was, in many ways, teaching a passive resistance that the existentialists would reject.</blockquote>
In regard to this paragraph, I don't think it's fair to say that the Buddha wasn't existential because he was stoic—simply accepting things as they are, not trying to change them or control them in any way. In fact, this might not even be a fair characterization of the Stoics. While it's difficult to put the goal of the Buddha's path into words — as the limits of human language fail to express what's beyond conceptualization and conditions — I don't think Buddhism is accurately describe as stoic as described above, although the two certainly share similar elements between them. For one thing, the Buddha taught that the end of suffering was attainable, that <i>nibbana</i> — the cessation of greed, hatred and delusions — could be experienced here and now, provided that one put forth the right effort in the right direction by following what called the <a href=http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/thai/lee/pathtopeace.html">noble eightfold path</a>.
The problem of suffering as seen in Buddhism is that when we suffer, we become bewildered as to why we are suffering, and then we look for a way out—except we look in all the wrong places because we're confused about what suffering is, as well as what true happiness is. That's why the Buddha developed the four noble truths and formulated them in the same way that ancient Indian physicians formulated medical diagnoses (i.e., disease, cause, prognosis and treatment), so that we're able to comprehend suffering, abandon its cause, realize its cessation and develop the path to that cessation. Contrary to what C. S. Wyatt writes above, the Buddha was very much trying to change things via a process of self-transformation, going against the stream of craving in the form of renunciation (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/kn/iti/iti.4.100-112.than.html#iti-109">Iti 114</a>).
From the Buddhist perspective, many of the assumptions we make about ourselves and our experience of the world, particularly our attachment to views and doctrines of self, keep us rooted in "perceptions and categories of objectification" that continually assail us and our mental well-being (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.018.than.html">MN 18</a>), and passive acceptance of these faulty assumptions only serves to perpetuate them. The Buddha termed this mental process of conditionality by which suffering arises dependent co-arising (<i>paticca-samuppada</i>), and it's intimately tied into our sense of self, or ego if you prefer.
In fact, when looked at closely, the teachings on dependent co-arising, the five clinging-aggregates (<i>panca-upadana-khandha</i>) and not-self (<i>anatta</i>) are quite insightful in that they're the parts of Buddhism that correspond to parts of modern psychology. For one thing, they basically detail the process by which we construct our sense of self and, ultimately, how to utilize that process in more skillful ways.
The aggregates themselves, for example, aren't simply descriptions of what constitutes a human being as some people mistakenly think—they're one of the many ways of looking at and dividing up experience that we find throughout the Pali Canon (e.g., aggregates, elements, six sense-media, etc.). But more importantly, they represent the most discernible aspects of our experience on top of which we construct our sense of self in a process of, as the Buddha called it, "I-making" and "my-making" (e.g., <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.109.than.html">MN 109</a>).
The first noble truth states that, in short, the five clinging-aggregate are <i>dukkha</i> (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn56/sn56.011.than.html">SN 56.11</a>), i.e., it's the clinging in reference to the aggregates that's dukkha, not the aggregates themselves. But what does this really mean? To start with, according to the commentaries, dukkha is defined as 'that which is hard to bear.' In <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.009.ntbb.html">MN 9</a>, clinging is defined as:
<blockquote>"And what is clinging, what is the origin of clinging, what is the cessation of clinging, what is the way leading to the cessation of clinging? There are these four kinds of clinging: clinging to sensual pleasures, clinging to views, clinging to rituals and observances, and clinging to a doctrine of self. With the arising of craving, there is the arising of clinging. With the cessation of craving, there is the cessation of clinging. The way leading to the cessation of clinging is just this Noble Eightfold Path; that is, right view... right concentration.</blockquote>
In addition, the Buddha said that the five clinging-aggregates are not-self. He called them a burden, the taking up of which is "the craving that makes for further becoming" and the casting off of which is "the remainderless fading & cessation, renunciation, relinquishment, release, & letting go of that very craving" (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn22/sn22.022.than.html">SN 22.22</a>). The way I understand it, becoming (<i>bhava</i>) is a mental process, which arises due to the presence of clinging (<i>upadana</i>) in the mind with regard to the five-clinging aggregates, and acts as a condition for the birth (<i>jati</i>) of the conceit 'I am,' the self-identification that designates a being (<i>satta</i>).
Put more simply, there's rarely a moment when the mind isn't clinging to this or that in one or more of the four ways (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.011.ntbb.html">MN 11</a>). Our identity jumps from one thing to another, wherever the clinging is strongest. Our sense of self is something that's always in flux, ever-changing from moment to moment in response to various internal and external stimuli, and yet at the same time, we tend to see it as a static thing. It's as if our sense of self desires permanence, but its very nature causes it to change every second. As the Buddha warns in <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn12/sn12.061.than.html">SN 12.61</a>:
<blockquote>"It would be better for the uninstructed run-of-the-mill person to hold to the body composed of the four great elements, rather than the mind, as the self. Why is that? Because this body composed of the four great elements is seen standing for a year, two years, three, four, five, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, a hundred years or more. But what's called 'mind,' 'intellect,' or 'consciousness' by day and by night arises as one thing and ceases as another. Just as a monkey, swinging through a forest wilderness, grabs a branch. Letting go of it, it grabs another branch. Letting go of that, it grabs another one. Letting go of that, it grabs another one. In the same way, what's called 'mind,' 'intellect,' or 'consciousness' by day and by night arises as one thing and ceases as another.</blockquote>
Change is, of course, a fact of nature. All things are in a perpetual state of change, but the problem is that our sense of self ignores this reality on a certain level. From birth to death, we have the tendency to think that this 'I' remains the same. Now, we might know that some things have changed (e.g., our likes and dislikes, our age, the amount of wrinkles we have, etc.), but we still feel as if we're still 'us.' We have the illusion (for lack of a better word) that our identity is who we are, a static entity named [fill in the blank], and we tend to perceive this as being the same throughout our lives.
That said, the conventional use of personality is a function of survival, as well as convenience. However, clinging to our personalities as 'me' or 'mine' is seen as giving continued fuel for becoming, i.e., a mental process of taking on a particular kind of identity that arises out of clinging. Our sense of self, the ephemeral 'I,' is merely a mental imputation — the product of what the Buddha called a process of 'I-making' and 'my-making' — and when we cling to our sense of self as being 'me' or 'mine' in some way, we're clinging to an impermanent representation of something that we've deluded ourselves into thinking is fixed and stable. It becomes a sort of false refuge that's none of these things.
These attachments, particularly our attachment to views and doctrines of self, keep us rooted in "perceptions and categories of objectification" that continually assail our mental well-being. Thus, with the presence of clinging, the aggregates have the potential to become suffering (i.e., 'difficult to bear') when our sense of self encounters inconstancy. That's why the Buddha taught that whatever is inconstant is stressful, and whatever is stressful is <a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/sn/sn22/sn22.059.than.html">not-self</a>:
<blockquote>"What do you think, monks — Is form [same with feeling, perception, fabrications and consciousness] constant or inconstant?"
"Inconstant, lord."
"And is that which is inconstant easeful or stressful?"
"Stressful, lord."
"And is it fitting to regard what is inconstant, stressful, subject to change as: 'This is mine. This is my self. This is what I am'?"
"No, lord."
Thus, monks, any form [same with feeling, perception, fabrications and consciousness] whatsoever that is past, future, or present; internal or external; blatant or subtle; common or sublime; far or near: every form is to be seen as it actually is with right discernment as: 'This is not mine. This is not my self. This is not what I am.'</blockquote>
In order to break down the conceptual idea of a self (i.e., that which is satisfactory, permanent and completely subject to our control) in relation to the various aspects of our experience that we falsely cling to as 'me' or 'mine,' we must essentially take this [analytical] knowledge, along with a specific set of practices such as meditation, as a stepping stone to what I can only describe as a profound psychological event that radically changes the way the mind relates to experience.
This may be a bit of nonsense, but in one of the ways I like to look at it, the conventional viewpoint (<i>sammuti sacca</i>) explains things through subject, verb and object whereas the ultimate viewpoint (<i>paramattha sacca</i>) explains things through verb alone. In essence, things are being viewed from the perspective of activities and processes. This, I think, is incredibly difficult to see, but perhaps what happens here is that once self-identity view (<i>sakkaya-ditthi</i>) is removed, the duality of subject and object is also removed, thereby revealing the level of mere conditional phenomena, i.e., dependent co-arising in action.
This mental process is 'seen,' ignorance is replaced by knowledge and vision of things as they are (<i>yatha-bhuta-nana-dassana</i>), and nibbana, then, would be the 'letting go' of what isn't self through the dispassion (<i>viraga</i>) invoked in seeing the inconstant (<i>anicca</i>) and stressful (<i>dukkha</i>) nature of clinging to false refuges that are neither fixed nor stable (<i>anatta</i>). And without the presence of clinging in regard to the aggregates, they cease to be 'difficult to bear.'
Stoicism, on the other hand, has similar teachings, such as the development of self-control can lead to the overcoming of destructive/violent emotions. It also shares with Buddhism a strong focus on ethics, ethics that have their basis in 'natural laws' or patterns. At first glance, there seems to be little to distinguish the two until we come to the seemingly inherent contradiction between determinism and free will in the Stoic's doctrine of virtue (see Bertrand Russell's <i>A History of Western Philosophy</i>, pg. 254-255), and this is where I think Buddhism really distances itself from Stoicism.
Nevertheless, the Buddha taught that one can actively transcend this conditional process, that one can 'touch the deathless' in an experience that's unable to be satisfactorily expressed in words, and this is directly opposed to the idea that Buddhism simply boils down to the sheer acceptance of things as they are. The same thing can possibly be argued of Stoicism as well.
While a complete overview of Buddhist philosophy isn't possible to explain in such a brief comparison — as it'd have to include such time consuming topics as <a href="">kamma</a>, <a href="http://leavesinthehand.blogspot.com/2010/06/rebirth_12.html">rebirth</a>, <a href="http://leavesinthehand.blogspot.com/2010/06/emptiness.html">emptiness</a>, <a href="http://leavesinthehand.blogspot.com/2010/06/some-rambling-thoughts-on-nibbana.html">nibbana</a> and what they mean in relation to suffering and the end of suffering — I think it's clear from this short description that the Buddha wasn't 'stoic' in the sense that he taught one should be free from passion, unmoved by joy or grief by being passive and submissive to these natural laws or patterns of conditionality, but that one can and should transcend them altogether.
As for Existentialism, I think Buddhism is actually quite similar to that as well. As one person <a href="http://forums.randi.org/showthread.php?p=6182427#post6182427">aptly put it</a>:
<blockquote>"Enlightenment" is to eventually realize that all conceptions of the Self are simply that, mere conceptions, illusory, not the "Thing in Itself". In order to find the Self, one must give up being attached to any particular concept of the Self. In other words, its a way to see Reality as it is, without being attached to concepts of Reality.
This is why Buddhism is essentially Non-theistic, but in an Agnostic manner. It was basically an historical reaction to Hinduism which had developed very complex conceptions of the Self, but it is also complementary to Hinduism (or, as [Jason] points out, other local religions).
Some might suggest that Buddhism says that there is no Self, but I see it more as stating that there is no Ultimate Model of the Self. Thus it becomes a sort of philosophical dialectic, not merely in opposition to conceptualization, but in <i>balance</i> with it.</blockquote>
I think that out of the underlying concepts of Existentialism, or at least those that are put forward by C. S. Wyatt in the above article, one of the main reasons Buddhism shouldn't be considered 'existentialist' is the fact that the Buddha taught there are 'universal' (as in applying to all equally) guidelines for most decisions. This forms the basis of his teachings on <i>kamma</i>, the basic premise being there's a cause and effect relationship between our actions and how they're experienced. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu <a href="http://www.dhammatalks.org/Archive/091016 Prepare to Die.mp3">puts it</a>, "It's simply the fact of action—you do something unskillful, it's going to come back in an unpleasant way." In the same way, if you do something skillful, it's going to come back in a pleasant way.
In the Suttas, the Buddha defines kamma as intentional actions of body, speech and mind (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an06/an06.063.than.html">AN 6.63</a>) that have the potential to produce certain results, which, in turn, have the potential to produce pleasant, painful or neutral feelings (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an04/an04.235.than.html">AN 4.235</a>). The word itself simply means 'action.'
Pragmatically speaking, actions are deemed 'unskillful' (<i>akusala</i>) if they lead to to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both. Actions that don't lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both are deemed 'skillful' (<i>kusala</i>) (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/mn/mn.061.than.html">MN 61</a>). Therefore, the distinction between skillful and unskillful actions is based upon how their results are experienced—not only by us, but by others as well. (This emphasis on the consequential aspect of actions is similar to Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism, with John Stuart Mill's idea of higher and lower happiness being similar to the Buddha's distinction between long-term and short-term welfare and happiness.)
Psychologically speaking, however, the quality of the intentions behind the actions is what ultimately determines whether they're unskillful or skillful. (This aspect is closer to Kant's deontological categorical imperative when combined with the Buddhist principle of <i>ahimsa</i> or harmlessness.) Intentional actions rooted in greed, hatred or delusion produce painful mental feelings "like those of the beings in hell," while intentional actions rooted in non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion produce the opposite ("like those of the Beautiful Black Devas"). Then there are acts rooted in both that bring mixed results "like those of human beings, some devas, and some beings in the lower realms" (<a href="http://www.accesstoinsight.org/tipitaka/an/an04/an04.235.than.html">AN 4.235</a>). By bringing kamma to an end, however, the mind is said to become free and undisturbed. This, I think, is also the essence of the famous passage from Leo Tolstoy's letter, "<a href="http://dwardmac.pitzer.edu/ANARCHIST_ARCHIVES/bright/tolstoy/toworkingpeople.html" target="_blank">To the Working People</a>":
<blockquote>People fare badly only because they themselves live badly. And there is no more injurious thought for people than that the causes of the wretchedness of their position is not in themselves, but in external conditions. A man or a society of men need but imagine that the evil experienced by them is due to external conditions and to direct their attention and efforts to the change of these external conditions, and the evil will be increased. But a man or a society of men need but sincerely direct their attention to themselves, and in themselves and their lives look for the causes of that evil from which they suffer, in order that these causes may be at once found and destroyed.</blockquote>
In conclusion, while I think there are valid reasons why the Buddha shouldn't be considered stoic or existential in nature, even though there are many similarities between them, it's unfair to say that the Buddha wasn't an active rebel, or that he was passive by any means. The Buddha actively rebelled against craving, against the assumptions we make about ourselves and our experience of the world and against the natural flow of worldly life itself. Instead of merely accepting things as they are, he gave up everything he was supposed to hold dear in order to discover a cure for what he believed to be the ultimate disease, human mental suffering.
In that search, he challenged everything from his assumptions, experiences and those of his companions, to society's ideas of what's truly valuable. He challenged everything until he was finally able to find a cure for this suffering, and then out of compassion, taught what he had discovered to those who were willing to listen. While the Buddha may not have openly challenged political leaders, he certainly didn't accept things as they are—he simply sought to change them from within.
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Comments
I think that you are entirely right that it is a distortion of the truth to see the Buddha as stoic or existentialist. To me, he is both and neither. The Dharma is beyond such categories, which makes discussion with philosophers difficult. Nevertheless, such dialogue can be fruitful.
Christ's teachings have also been subjected to similar deconstruction. Like the Buddha's, his message manages to survive such analysis. Indeed, it often adds new insights. An existentialist approach to Buddhist teaching leads to Thich Nhat Hanh's 'Engaged Buddhism'. A stoical lens through which to view the Dharma leads to the heroism of Tibetans under torture. Similar debate can be heard, if dimly, going on in the Islamic world.
I think that you might enjoy Marcus Aurelius. Have you read him? He was recommended to me for years but I only got round to reading him a short while ago:
Marcus Aurelius: Meditations
To be honest, I am not sure how right I am about anything these days; but, yes I do think that it is a distortion of the truth to see the Buddha as stoic or existentialist because he is both and neither. I also agree, however, that such dialogues can be fruitful.
I have not read Marcus Aurelius, although I believe that I do recall you mentioning him once before, a long time ago. I appreciate the recommendation, and I will certainly make some time to read it. If you recommend it, I am sure that it is worth reading.
Jason
No matter if you did or didn't - I thoroughly enjoyed it.
-bf
Yes, I wrote it yesterday. I am glad that you enjoyed reading because I enjoyed writing it. As I said in the post though, I am sure that what I wrote is undoubtedly flawed; but I just did it for the fun of it. I mean, I have to do something with all of my spare time.
Jason