The Dhammapada: Socrates & Buddha Vs. Desire
The death of Socrates brings us, in a strange way, to the life of the Buddha. Socrates came to the conclusion that mental/spiritual enlightenment requires us to renounce bodily craving and our need to perpetually satisfy our sensual desires. Spiritual growth means mastering our desires, and letting go of the attachments of embodied life. In Plato, Socrates is nearly the antithesis of the Homeric hero. As he said himself, to philosophize is to learn how to die.
Nearly identical ideas appear in Buddhism. However, Socrates believed that death freed us to a higher life beyond, and the Buddha made no such claims. While Buddhism is not precisely “atheist”, Siddhartha Gautama speaks little about the afterlife, and claimed not to know. As an apocryphal joke puts it, a student asks a Zen master: “Don’t you know if there’s life after death? Aren’t you a Zen master?” The Zen master replies: “Sure, but I’m not a dead Zen master!”
They have different goals: Socrates renounces sensual desires in hopes of achieving enlightenment in life and spiritual rebirth after death; Plato writes philosophy and theology. The Buddha renounces the same things, but in hopes of living an enlightened life on earth. In many ways, Buddhism evokes both philosophy and psychology. Neither tradition espouses masochistic asceticism as much as peaceful withdrawal.
The theme of craving appears memorably in the Dhammapada, composed in the third century BCE and perhaps the most accessible work in the vast Buddhist canon. A key verse (189) promises that “whoever has gone for refuge” to the Buddha will “see with understanding the four noble truths”. The deliverance of these truths was, by tradition, the first public teaching of the Buddha and, in many ways, central to Buddhism.
The first is the truth of pain- sometimes translated as suffering; however, in English, ‘suffering’ is perhaps a bit too melodramatic. This truth holds that pain, or simply unease, is inescapable in human life. Maybe we could even use the term ‘trauma’: Birth is trauma; death is trauma; union with what is displeasing is trauma; not to get what one wants is trauma; separation from what is pleasing is trauma. In short, pain and trauma are inevitable for those living.
This seems obvious; yet, consider how much of modern life is geared towards the denial of suffering. Not just obvious salves, such as the overmedication of people in emotional distress; but the discomfort many seem to feel about being alone with their thoughts, undistracted by glowing, plastic rectangles. It is hard to think of Twitter, for instance, as anything other than a series of distress signals broadcast into an oceanic loneliness, in search of distant connection with an alien life form that happens to be our own. Distress, ennui, and malaise are things that individuals in our society simply do not know what to do with. Religious cultures might be able to entrust them to the Lord. We, however, avoid suffering like an embarrassing relative who arrived unexpectedly at a party.
The second noble truth holds that pain arises from craving. We crave sensual pleasures and further existence. Craving is accompanied by delight and lust and this leads to “renewed existence” to no end. In the comments, Paul B. noted: “It’s interesting that folks who build their philosophies on such radically opposed foundations as the resurrection of the flesh, the eternally pure soul, and the inherent perishability of all things (i.e. the Buddha) can all come around to the same sorts of asceticism.” The common message being: the drive for bodily pleasures causes delusion and spiritual suffering.
The third noble truth is that this pain ceases when we renounce craving. (The fourth truth: that we can surrender craving by following the “eightfold path”, will be topic of a future post.) By relinquishing this drive to have and control and being freed from craving, we are also freed from suffering. Since pain is inescapable, the best we can hope for is to experience trauma with a sort of quiescent detachment. And, indeed, following the old AA line about accepting the things over which you have no power to change does make life much more endurable.
However, why do Socrates and the Buddha equate sensual delight with craving? Okay, of course, we crave sensual delight, which distracts us from the contemplative life. But isn’t it possible to renounce craving, while still accepting the sensual gifts that come into one’s life, and remain uncorrupted? Many world traditions hold that, if your life is geared towards securing wealth and hoarding material possessions, this passion will consume you. But monkish asceticism seems a bit like a pathological response, even if the goal is to avoid all craving. It’s a paradoxically self-indulgent form of renunciation. One never really gets over getting over craving.
Living in the body seems to somehow necessitate living with other people. We are drawn to satisfy our needs together, even if we’re shy. So we live socially in a quiet and often unstated need for each other, and communities form around a constant inner struggle between our self-determination and our need/love for others. The social life and our correlated love for others- which is not precisely the same as Buddhism’s peacefulness towards others- makes us want to make others happy, and vice-versa.
How can you, therefore, renounce pleasures without forsaking the love and society of others? If I make you a batch of delicious strawberry tarts, have I corrupted you by sensual delight? And doesn’t pleasure sometimes make us wiser, even more spiritually astute? Can’t sensual love make us spiritually larger? Aren’t some pleasures transcendent? If we are momentarily freed from pain by certain pleasures: sunlight on our face, good wine, the smell of onions cooking, an orgasm, a purring cat, a warm embrace, a cigarette in the evening, a good laugh, etc: while accepting that they are, of course, momentary and fleeting, isn’t this a healthier attitude towards mortal existence than living in a monastery and trying to master ourselves at the expense of controlling all the vagaries of life?
Of course, maybe what the Buddha means is just that pleasures are fleeting, along with the rest of life, and that we suffer because we want to make them last forever or fill all moments of our life. I think this is what defines craving and its attendant misery. Though, don’t expect me to renounce a delicious meal and a beer with my beautiful wife tonight simply because sensual pleasures are transient. That strikes me as ingratitude and self-absorption. And remember that Socrates was a lousy husband and father.
Endnotes:
1. Like most Westerners, I stumble a bit through Buddhist texts. Corrections, complaints, suggestions, and jokes are welcome.
Aldous Huxley’s Island is in some ways an attempt to answer this question in the affirmative. I recommend it.Report
@Jason Kuznicki, Thanks- I’ll check it out next time I’m in the library. I’ve heard good things about it.Report
@Rufus F.,
“I just watch them go past like clouds.”
That’s one of my favorite metaphors for mindfulness meditation. What was helpful to me was to see thoughts in meditation like cars going by – I can watch them go by, without hailing them down and trying to get carried away in them.Report
@silentbeep, That’s a good image. I’m not there yet for the most part, but she seemed to pick it up immediately.Report
I’ve never really understood the concept of a Bodhisattva. Supposedly, they are folks who have given up on Nirvana in order to stay behind and help others get there… but isn’t that another way to say “a really nice guy who still is hung up on the things of this world”?
Anyway, the 2nd Great Truth has always bugged me too. Detachment from the world doesn’t seem an appropriate response… the Skin Horse has always made more sense to me:
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
*THIS* makes sense to me. It’s not a renunciation of desire. Not at all! It’s just an acknowledgment that, as you grow more “real”, things hurt just as much… you just don’t mind.Report
“don’t expect me to renounce a delicious meal and a beer with my beautiful wife tonight simply because sensual pleasures are transient.”
Renouncing doesn’t necessarily mean not doing it. It means struggling with the desire to do it. But yes, this is far too difficult for most people. Anyone can read and appreciate Socrates. Very few people can practice Buddhism.Report
Exactly. It’s not the renouncement it’s the struggle that’s the point, it’s the relationship with desire that is being worked out. I’d say that is what many monks and nuns in the monastery are actually doing: intense practice with desire and some level of renunciation.Report
@silentbeep,
If struggle is the verb in the situation, what you are trying to do is deconstruct the agent out of existence, so that there is no one doing the struggling. The struggle can continue on its own.Report
@Jim,
Well if you take the concept of “anatta” as a given, then it’s no so much important who is doing the struggle in the first place. It’s that the struggle is happening as a process, that can be experienced and that also can be fruitful for exploration into the nature of happiness. In essence: learning to be happy regardless of whether or not you get what you want all the time. Happy in this context, meaning liberation and freedom from suffering.Report
@silentbeep, “anatta” seems to me to be the default position. If someone wants to argue that the ego or anything else exists, the burden of proof is on that person. I can’t see how it is a coherent position for a person to argue that God does not exist but, saying that believers’ experiences are unsubstantiated subjective impressions, yet to believe that they themselves do exist, on the very same basis.Report
@Jim, just to let you know, some buddhists do believe in god or gods. some buddhist are basically apathetic atheists in the sense that the western ideas of a theistic religion, don’t resonate, so don’t really matter to them. Annatta might be the default position, but in terms of gaining insight through struggle, that is not something that is dependent on annatta per se. It’s more about being in the moment, here and now, and now experiencing for oneself, where the suffering is, where the desire is, where the impermanence, in the moment.Report
@Jim, This is all very helpful. I do think I get much better at this as I get older. Maybe renunciation is a tricky word. I asked my wife once if she ever has distracting thoughts when she meditates, and she said, “I just watch them go past like clouds.”Report
@Jim, Thuis is actuially to Silentbeep since the reply button on his is not available.
I think the existence of gods and such has to do with a functional presence. The same as the ego. This is what Nagarjuna means, to the extent I can follow him at all, about things being “empty”. They are nothing but form, forms made of no substance.
This is absolutely my experience of how language works . Words – lexemes -label semantic categories of objects that have one or more resemblances, criteria for inclusion in th category. The fewer the resemblances – semantic features – the more abstract is the label/word. The same holds for syntactic processes.
The Structuralists held that languages could differ in an infinite number of random ways. Languages could have four tenses as easily as the three we think are so logically necessary, or just two, and they adduced mountians of examples to that effect. Chomsky came along and in his profoundly essentialist way said no, no, beyond all these forms you see in all these languages there is an underlying changeless reality we call Deep Structure. He said there is syntax on one side and lexicon on the other, which consists of discrete and primal units of meaning.
So the game was on, with Chomskyans proposing absolute universals and the descriptivists finding counter-example after counter-example, for more than 40 years now. MOre than one researcher has pointed out instances in langagues where there is no definable distinction between lexicon andsyntax becasue the word derivationprocesses are so productive and far-reaching. Etc.
In the end it seems to me that the state of play is that at the point you find a structure that is universal, it is no longer has much structure left. And I think this is true for gods and humans.Report
@Andy Smith, “don’t expect me to renounce a delicious meal and a beer with my beautiful wife tonight simply because sensual pleasures are transient.”
Don’t expect the effort of renunciation to be anything more than another ego-centered feat of willpower.Report
I think the Buddhist concept of anatta or “not-self,” which I had in mind while making the comment Rufus quotes, is central to the discussion here.
If there is some kind of enduring self, whether Plato’s ideal soul or the Pharisees’ enduring resurrected flesh, then the primary concern of asceticism is basically to maintain that self in a proper relationship to the world. And if, in turn, asceticism is merely a means to that end, then it makes sense to wonder if it’s actually correct — after all, maybe God wants us all to enjoy the joys of his creation.
But if, as the Buddha* maintained, the “I” that experiences pleasure and pain is an illusion — some sort of contingency in the karmic flux — then asceticism isn’t really a means to anything, it’s simply the truth. Holding on to desire is the way the illusory self maintains its hold, and so we have to let go of the desire to let go of the self.
*I should point out that (a) I’m pretty much a novice when it comes to Buddhism and (b) I’m nevertheless in strong philosophical agreement with the no-self concept, so maybe I’m only shoehorning my own beliefs onto the Buddha. Assuming, of course, that there’s any “I” to have those beliefs.Report
@Paul B,
“Assuming, of course, that there’s any “I” to have those beliefs.”
I once made some remark about the “nonreality” of “the I” to a Zen Master. She reached over and pinched me real hard and said, “Who felt that?” I said, “Ouch, I did.” “Right,” she said, “you did.” That was a defining moment in my practice. Wittgenstein said that philosophy, as he practiced it anyway, leaves everything as it is. So Buddhist practice, or at least the Zen practice I’m familiar with, leaves everything as it is. Here is most profound koan I ever encountered.
A monk asked the Master, “What is enlightenment?”
The Master replied, “Have you had your lunch?”
“Yes,” said the monk.
“Then go wash your bowl.”
The truth of being is the ing part.Report
@sam, “Constant Mindfulness” is how I came to understand it.
Do not be an automaton who does nothing but react to stimuli.
Be a Moral Agent. Be constantly mindful of the choices and opportunities before you… and, instead of reacting, Act.
Interestingly, the better you get at this, the better you get at this.Report
(Erm, I’m not a Buddhist, though. I’ve been told, however, that that doesn’t matter.)Report
@Jaybird,
It doesn’t.Report
@sam, You shouldn’t have to be a believing Mathematician to believe that zero is zero or that two plus two equals four. These are supposed to be results that anyone can derive, whether they are in India or one of the Maya cities.Report
“isn’t this a healthier attitude towards mortal existence than living in a monastery and trying to master ourselves at the expense of controlling all the vagaries of life?”
This is one of those debates in Buddhist circles that keeps coming up: monastic life vs. the laypersons life. I can tell you from what little experience I have with monks and with reading monks’ take on the Dharma that this “control” you speak of, is not how they see it really.
One of my favorite Buddhist teachers was a monk for 10 years he is now married with two kids: he tells me the layperson’s life is much more difficult because one’s relationship with desire and attachment is constantly being challenged.
That being said, I don’t know if “control” is really the best word to use for what Buddhist monks are doing in the monastery, your insight here:
“Of course, maybe what the Buddha means is just that pleasures are fleeting, along with the rest of life, and that we suffer because we want to make them last forever or fill all moments of our life.”
Well as a student of Buddhist philosophy and buddhist meditator (novice siix years now) I’d say that’s a pretty good interpretation.Report
@silentbeep, Thanks- when I wrote that, it seemed to make more sense than the prior paragraphs.
I miss living in Toronto- we had a Buddhist monastery about a block from our house and I’d like to ask some of these questions there. It’s entirely possible- actually pretty much certain- that I’m confusing the monkish practices of Buddhism with those of Christianity here too.Report
“Can’t sensual love make us spiritually larger? ”
Well, if drinking tea can help, so can any other kind of sensuality. Drinking tea is pretty sensual. Isn’t this called Tantra?Report
” This is what Nagarjuna means, to the extent I can follow him at all, about things being “empty”. They are nothing but form, forms made of no substance.”
That’s not quite accurate. See Dependent Origination — things are empty (sunya) in the sense that they do not possess own being: Things are not the causes of themselves. but rather exist as a nexus of causal relationships, each related to all and all related to each. See, Hua Yen and Indra’s Net — and if you think that resembles Leibniz’s Monadology, you’d be correct.Report
“in the sense that they do not possess own being:”
That’s what I meant by “substance”., something that exists on its own, independently. It is a physical metaphor.Report