- Anthropology and Historiography of Science Isbn: 8120809548 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Forms, Concerns, and Development in Historical Perspective: History of Science, Philosophy and Culture in Indian Civilization Isbn: 8121509041 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Induction, Probability, and Skepticism [Suny Series in Philosophy] Isbn: 0791406814 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Interdisciplinary Studies in Science Technology Philosophy and Culture [Phispc Monograph Series on History of Philosophy, Science and Culture in inDia, 6] Isbn: 8121507200 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Knowledge Freedom and Language: An Interwoven Fabric of Man, Time and World Isbn: 8120806301 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Language Logic and Science in India: Some Conceptual and Historical Perspectives [Phispc Monograph Series on History of Philosophy, Science and Culture in inDia, No 4] Isbn: 8121506891 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Mathematics, Astronomy and Biology in Indian Tradition Isbn: 8121506883 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Realism: Responses and Reactions Isbn: 8185636451 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Science, Philosophy and Culture Part 2 Isbn: 8121507855 by D P CHATTOPADHYAYA
- Sociology, Ideology and Utopia: Socio-Political Philosophy of East and West [Philosophy of History and Culture, Vol 18] Isbn: 9004108076 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Sri Aurobindo and Karl Marx: Integral Sociology and Dialectical Sociology Isbn: 8120803884 by D P Chattopadhyaya
- Ways of Understanding the Human Past: Mythic, Epic, Scientific and Historic Isbn: 8187586052 by D P Chattopadhyaya
When we have passed beyond knowings, then we shall have knowledge. Reason was the helper, Reason is the bar.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Books by D P Chattopadhyaya
True knowledge is available only through true cognition
The Society for Phenomenology and Media
Derrida is a remarkably economical thinker
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Western vs. Eastern
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Eco-philosophy
Sunday, January 29, 2006
What I hate about Foucault
Friday, January 13, 2006
The aim of this play
Intuition
Ambiguity
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Philosophy of Intelligent Design
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Aesthetic distance
- Why then bother with "high" culture, if it does not make any money, and requires a lot of time and effort to boot?
- Could the entirety of cultural aspirations not be considered a dead weight that had better be jettisoned by people who wish to live unencumbered and enjoyable lives?
Radicals on the far Right as well as the extreme Left have occasionally suggested that all high culture be simply abolished as an insidious deformation of true life, or as so much pretentious bourgeois bombast. “Every time I hear the word ‘culture’ I instinctively reach for my revolver,” a character in some Nazi novel remarks. But such programmatic anti-culture radicalism may not even be necessary to bring about the effective demise of any serious concern with the arts and related matters. What is known as “high culture” may easily die of such natural causes as lack of interest, waning energy, commercialization, or the plain inability of culture enthusiasts to make a good case for their cause. It is, furthermore, far from clear whether genuine culture has not already been replaced by a comprehensive entertainment industry that produces consumer items for the refined bourgeois taste as routinely as for the mass audiences of “pop.” Under present conditions the very idea of “high” culture seems quaint or suspicious, and it has become an established habit among artists to cringe at its mention and deny any connection with it.
Writers and film makers occasionally belabor a stereotype that allegedly reflects the difference between Californians and New Yorkers. (See, for example, the relevant scenes in "Annie Hall" or "California Suite.") New Yorkers, according to this typology, are highly cerebral, seriously committed to culture, well-read, fast thinking and talking, very productive, aggressive to the point of being obnoxious, and hopelessly neurotic. They diligently keep up with what people think around the world, and they endure pain and neglect their physical health in pursuit of understanding and demanding levels of intellectual discourse. Their stereotypical Californian counterparts, by contrast, are deliberate airheads with no taste for the gritty and serious aspects of human existence--easygoing health nuts with a nice tan, and generally satisfied with having no higher aspirations than experiencing a good time near the beach in a perpetually mellow climate.
- Assuming for a moment that these stereotypes represent two possible ideals of life, is there any good reason for insisting that one is better than the other?
- Is the high-strung and hardworking intellectual superior to the relaxed and benevolent airhead?
- Considering that high culture requires so much attention and effort, and that it does not seem to pay off too well in terms of sociability and contentment, is it really worth the price it exacts?
This is the question that John Stuart Mill tries to answer in the second chapter of his book Utilitarianism (1861). In that chapter Mill offers the famous judgment (in favor of the New Yorkers, as it were) that "it is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied." Basically Mill contends that a highly cultured person is a happier person, a person who gets more pleasure out of life than an airhead--even if such a person experiences a great deal of frustration and dissatisfaction as a result of being educated and cultured. This calls for some elaboration.
John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) was by far the most influential philosopher in the English speaking world of the nineteenth century, and he was the most convincing defender of Utilitarianism, the philosophy which his father James Mill and his father's friend Jeremy Bentham had launched a few years earlier. As a Utilitarian J. S. Mill defended happiness as the highest principle of morality (opposing Kant, for example, who took rational self-determination to be the highest value).
In his book On Liberty (1859) J. S. Mill made an important contribution to the theory of democracy by arguing that individuals and social minorities have inalienable rights that not even a democratic majority can abrogate. In 1861, with the collaboration of his wife Harriet Taylor, he wrote the feminist tract The Subjection of Women, a vigorous defense of women's rights in a society that generally ridiculed such thinking. As a social philosopher he was not against Capitalism as an economic system, but he strongly opposed the appalling social conditions that had been brought about by the Industrial Revolution and an unregulated market economy.
In contrast to his contemporary Karl Marx, J. S. Mill was not a revolutionary, but a reformer who achieved much in terms of inspiring progressive legislation and establishing minimal standards for social justice.To make happiness the highest value in a system of morality was a daring and controversial proposition in Mill's days, and he was lambasted for it not only by orthodox churchmen, but also by numerous philosophers and journalists. In the second chapter of Utilitarianism Mill defends himself against such critics, to whom he angrily refers as "the common herd, including the herd of writers." He starts out his defense by defining the basic terms of Utilitarian ethics: The creed which accepts as the foundation of morals Utility, or the Greatest Happiness Principle, holds that actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness. By happiness is intended pleasure, and the absence of pain; by unhappiness, pain, and the privation of pleasure ...
Next, Mill turns to the critics of his theory: Now, such a theory of life excites in many minds ...inveterate dislike. To suppose that life has (as they express it) no higher end than pleasure--no better and nobler object of desire and pursuit--they designate as utterly mean and groveling; as a doctrine worthy only of swine, to whom the followers of Epicurus were, at a very early period, contemptuously likened; and modern holders of the doctrine are occasionally made the subject of equally polite comparisons by its German, French, and English assailants.
Epicurus (341-270 BCE) was the Greek founder of Epicureanism (also called Hedonism, from the Greek word hedones = "pleasures"). It was a very influential philosophy both in ancient Greece and in the Roman Empire. Contrary to what is often assumed, Epicurus did not advocate the reckless pursuit of such pleasures as wild sex, fame, and all the material things that money can buy, but a simple and quiet life that leads to enduring contentment and peace of mind. Interestingly, as Mill points out, it is usually the pious enemies of Hedonism who think of crass debauchery whenever they hear the word "pleasure": When thus attacked, the Epicureans have always answered, that it is not they, but their accusers, who represent human nature in a degrading light; since the accusation supposes human beings to be capable of no pleasures except those of which swine are capable. If this supposition were true, the charge could not be gainsaid, but would then be no longer an imputation; for if the sources of pleasure were precisely the same to human beings and to swine, the rule of life which is good enough for one would be good enough for the other. The comparison of the Epicurean life to that of beasts is felt as degrading precisely because a beast's pleasures do not satisfy a human being's conception of happiness. Human beings have faculties more elevated than the animal appetites, and when once made conscious of them, do not regard anything as happiness, which does not include their gratification. ...
[T]here is no known Epicurean theory of life which does not assign to the pleasures of the intellect, of the feelings and imagination, and of the moral sentiments, a much higher value as pleasures than to those of mere sensation. ... It is quite compatible with the principle of utility to recognize the fact that some kinds of pleasure are more desirable and more valuable than others. It would be absurd that while, in estimating all other things, quality is considered as well as quantity, the estimation of pleasures should be supposed to depend on quantity alone.
The last remark is a swipe at Mill's predecessor Bentham. For Bentham all pleasures were equal. If some people get their pleasures from reading sophisticated poetry, while others prefer simple-minded board games, there is no reason for maintaining that the one kind of pleasure is better than the other: "Pushpin [the board game] is as good as poetry." The only thing that counts in Bentham's theory of ethics is the amount of pleasure that a person receives, its quantity. It was Bentham's indifference to the quality of pleasure which earned Utilitarianism the reputation of being a philosophy for cultural lowbrows. Because of this J. S. Mill saw a need for re-defining the basic principle of Utilitarian ethics. Talk about more or less valuable pleasures inevitably raises the question of how one can distinguish and evaluate them:
- What makes one pleasure more valuable than another?
- Why is appreciating poetry more valuable than enjoying a simple game or a Porterhouse steak?
- Why is listening to a complex Mahler symphony preferable to happily singing along with some tune in the jukebox?
- What exactly is the characteristic that distinguishes the more valuable from the less valuable pleasure?
This is how Mill answers the question: If I am asked ... what makes one pleasure more valuable than another, ... there is but one possible answer. Of two pleasures, if there be one to which all or almost all who have experience of both give a decided preference, irrespective of any feeling of moral obligation to prefer it, that is the more desirable pleasure. In other words, people who are familiar with both kinds of pleasure, the pleasures of the intellect and the pleasures of "mere sensation," are the competent judges who can decide which pleasures are more desirable. Whatever kind of pleasure they prefer is the more valuable kind. And it is the intellectual pleasures which, according to Mill, these knowledgeable individuals invariably prefer:
Now it is an unquestionable fact that those who are equally acquainted with, and equally capable of appreciating and enjoying both, do give a most marked preference to the manner of existence which employs their higher faculties. Few human creatures would consent to be changed into any of the lower animals, for the promise of the fullest allowance of a beast's pleasures; no intelligent human being would consent to be a fool, no instructed person would be an ignoramus, no person of feeling and conscience would be selfish and base, even though they should be persuaded that the fool, the dunce, or the rascal is better satisfied with his lot than they are with theirs. …
It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be a Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if the fool, or the pig, is of a different opinion, it is because they know only their own side of the question. The other party to the comparison knows both sides.This settles the matter for Mill, and it can be assumed that the vast majority of educated people have always been in agreement with his valuation of culture. Philosophers, however, may feel prompted to raise some doubts concerning Mill’s argument. Is it really an unquestionable fact, for example, that all people capable of enjoying both "higher" and "lower" pleasures will give a marked preference to the former? Will the “higher” form of existence, that of human beings, always be considered to be preferable to the life form of animals by people who have thoughtfully considered both options? In the absence of any scientifically conducted poll, it will be worthwhile to take a look at history.
There have, in fact, been notable dissenters to Mill’s view throughout the course of Western philosophy. In the 18th century Jean-Jacques Rousseau made a name for himself as a radical critic of civilization and as an advocate of the virtues of primitive nature, and in classical Greece the so-called Cynics were famous for deriding human culture while praising the beauty of a pure animal existence. The name of this latter school of thought is derived from the Greek word kynos, which means "dog." Dogs were revered by the Cynics as role models, because dogs were seen as more honest than humans, and as being more in touch with the truths of nature than their human brothers and sisters. Virtue, according to the Cynics, consists in rejecting all social conventions and cultural artificiality, and thus to live in harmony with the forces and laws of the physical universe. Cynics deliberately lived in poverty--with torn clothes, unwashed, and sleeping wherever they found a place to rest. Diogenes, a contemporary and humorous critic of Plato, is said to have lived in a barrel, and to have masturbated in public to press home the point that only artificial convention would make such a natural activity appear offensive. The Cynics, although mostly quite familiar with the pleasures of the mind, seemed to have believed that the simplicity of an animal existence is ultimately preferable to the life of civilized and mentally complicated people.
It will help to remember this historical precedent in reading the following poem by the contemporary American poet Duane Locke. The speaker in "Circe, I on Sanibel, Think of My Former Life as a Pig" is one of Odysseus' sailors in a 20th century embodiment. This sailor talks about the modern island of Sanibel in Florida, as well as the mythical island of the sorceress Circe from Homer's Odyssey. Odysseus, during his long voyage home after the Trojan War, was marooned with his crew on Circe's shores. As Circe wished to keep Odysseus on her island, she changed his men into pigs. Through his cunning Odysseus eventually managed to make her change the sailors back into men, and thus to escape from a form of existence that most Greeks would have considered inferior. This episode from Homer's Odyssey is usually read as a triumph of human civilization over animal lust and the dark forces of nature. In his poem Duane Locke proposes a different reading:
Duane Locke sketches an unfavorable picture of human culture, to say the least: Unhealthy shoes, desk jobs and hemorrhoids, fast food joints and robberies, pollution and wholesale destruction through real estate development, sex as a commodity, the knowledge of one's inevitable death--and all of this buttressed by the presumption that human beings are somehow more important than animals. The life of a pig, by contrast, emerges as one of innocence, warmth, lack of unnecessary restraints, simplicity, and harmony with nature. The wholesome world of the pig is said to be a "paradise," and in connection with the magic and godly descend of Circe, the pig's existence is outright divine. There have, as mentioned, always been critics of civilization, and the general counter-vision invoked by these critics has always been a more or less romantic vision of nature. In light of the enormous wastelands which relentless industrial expansion, unfettered financial greed, and an out-of-control population expansion have created on this planet, however, Mill's high esteem for culture and the human form of existence look particularly problematic, and the idea of somehow minimizing the distance between humans and the animal kingdom would be particularly appealing.
Considering the relevant details of human history, and the over-all conduct of the human race on this planet, one does not have to be much of a Cynic to be at least intrigued by the question whether the whole of human evolution may not have been something like an aberration--a cosmic wrong turn. It is more than mere whim if the thoughts of contemporary science fiction writers have time and again moved in the direction of describing the whole of human civilization as a failed experiment that might as well be abandoned. A plausible rejoinder by Mill's followers would be to point out that the undeniable perversions of our particular civilization cannot be equated with civilization as such. Mill obviously cannot be taken to advocate a littering, polluting, bulldozing, and greed-driven consumer economy as the epitome of human achievement. Humanity may move in this direction, and to all appearances seems to be doing just that, but there is no reason for saying that it has to travel down that road. Thoughtless greed and environmental destruction could be controlled like deadly floods or ravaging diseases. It is not the mindless and bulldozing developer, but thinkers like Socrates or poets like Duane Locke, whom Mill considers preferable to satisfied pigs.
Still, why bother to be human? Why emphasize and develop all those faculties that set human beings so dramatically apart from the rest of the animal kingdom—highly developed intelligence and knowledge, complex communication skills, reasoned predictions of the future and evidence-based reconstruction of the past, self-reflection and voluntary restraints, irony and disinterested contemplation, and so forth? Why create an inevitably fragile human civilization and maintain an often exasperating and frustrating life of the mind--rather than emulate (as much as is humanly possible) the natural minimalism of an animal existence? Why spend all the time and energy on something for the existence of which there does not seem to be any compelling reason? Why all the exertions, discomforts, and frustrations that accompany advanced schooling if there are only questionable benefits and results? Did not even Socrates recommend at one point in Plato's Republic (at 372 d-e) the "minimal city" as a better alternative to the "inflamed" economy and highly developed culture of Athens--until his friends denounced it as a community worthy only of swine? Why not give up all strenuous culture efforts and let things and people go where they naturally want to go—the way of the satisfied pig? Educators have always had a hard time defending the demands of higher education and culture. Traditionally it has often been attempted by simply invoking the seemingly self-evident virtues of truth, goodness, and beauty. Because this triad has become a somewhat hackneyed and tired cliché, it is not often mentioned anymore, except with a derisive sneer. Yet, it still pinpoints much of what a liberal education tries to achieve, and it explains to some extent the inherent attraction that Mill attributes to culture and the specifically human form of existence. Truth, goodness, and beauty, if understood in the right way, do define a way of being in the world the virtue of which comes close to being self-evident.
Truth is pursued in higher education in the sense of developing a rational and comprehensive picture of the world in which we live. Truth is, of course, crucially important in numerous practical ways. Physicians need to know what exactly causes certain diseases, agronomists need to know how much water is carried by certain aquifers, and city planners need accurate demographic data to provide for schools, roads, hospitals, and other infra-structure needs. But the Truth at which a liberal education aims goes beyond such practical concerns, and it is not necessarily motivated by any special needs. Human beings become absorbed in questions like "What caused the collapse of the civilization of the Mayas?" or "Is the universe contracting or expanding?" They try to find out regardless of whether such knowledge is useful or not. They pursue knowledge and understanding for the sake of knowledge and understanding--because that is part of realizing of their human potential, and because that is what it means to exist as a human being. In light of the human potential, a mere animal existence appears to be confining and dull.Human interest and learning is certainly not as limited as that of other animals with their specific survival needs. It is “universal” in that it transcends the needs of any particular individual or species. Its ability to acquire knowledge beyond special needs justifies the description of human comprehension as “objective.” Understanding often starts with partial perceptions and slanted opinions, but human beings can learn how to correct one-sidedness and bias.
The human species is endowed with the faculty of detached and impersonal analysis, and with the ability to distinguish between the perception of things as they appear and as they are. The recognition of things independently of need, desire, or the lust of appropriation is part of a freedom that locates a human existence within dimensions that are significantly wider than those of other creatures.In his book Theaetetus Plato waxes enthusiastic about the broad horizons of a person who has emancipated himself from the limitations of merely practical knowledge: His mind, disdaining the littleness and nothingness of ordinary human affairs, is 'flying all abroad,' as Pindar says, measuring earth and heaven and the things that are above and below heaven and earth, investigating the unabridged nature of each and all in their entirety, but not condescending to the things close at hand (174c). Acquiring only narrowly practical knowledge is, according to Plato, like being a prisoner in a dark cave, while acquiring the liberal knowledge that transcends practical utility is like seeing a wide world spread out in broad daylight. It is, one could argue, Plato’s and Pindar’s “flying all abroad” into unlimited spaces that makes being educated and cultured inherently attractive.The potential of universality and freedom that characterizes human knowledge also comes into play with respect to morality and law--with respect to goodness.
While pigs, satisfied or otherwise, are mostly driven by their instincts of self-preservation and the survival of their species, humans are capable of taking into detailed consideration the needs and desires of other and different beings. The instinctual egotism of animals asserts itself, of course, in human behavior as well. Throughout most of their history human beings certainly have not risen very far above the level of other animals in this respect (which is why some thinkers consider the present age still part of the "pre-history" of the human race). But human beings are not by necessity limited to being only concerned with what is good for this or that individual or group; their natural constitution enables them to understand what is good for all beings--what is good “as such.” They do not have to behave, either as individuals or as collectives, like the proverbial pigs around the trough--competitive, greedy, and desperately out for just themselves. They can assert their humanity by taking a step back from their immediate natural instincts and arrange for the satisfaction of their needs with consideration of what is good for others as well.
With respect to goodness, too, it is being free that is inherently attractive for human beings. Whoever is familiar with the difference between being in the grip of self-righteousness, moral tunnel vision, and fanatic dogmatism on the one hand, and being capable of a liberal contemplation of options on the other, will hardly agree to be committed to the former. "Aesthetic distance" is the basis for the perception of beauty. A certain distance to everything characterizes the ability of human beings to enjoy things and people without bringing into play their practical needs or personal desires. A person who can see in a tree nothing else than so much lumber, in a naked body nothing more than an object for sexual stimulation, or in a landscape nothing but a location for a business venture or an artillery site, is someone who has not developed the aesthetic dimension of his or her life. To perceive things as unrelated to practical uses or personal desires, to see them as fascinating in themselves, to have a "disinterested interest" in things (as Kant called it), is a sign of a person's emancipation from the limiting necessities and pressures of an animal-like existence, and his or her transformation into a free being. It is this freedom at which a liberal education aims.
Considering once more the assertion that nobody who has become familiar with culture and the life of the mind would ever knowingly and voluntarily regress to a form of existence that is typical for animals, we can see now why Mill thought that a fully developed human life is more attractive and inherently superior to anything an animal existence can offer. It is the fact of the larger dimensions that the life of the mind provides, and the freer movements within these wide spaces, that cannot fail to appeal to beings that have the natural constitution and capabilities of humans. As no person who has ever been free and living in the light of day would voluntarily agree to become a prisoner in a cave, nobody who has ever been a free spirit would seriously consider becoming a poorly informed, one-sidedly indoctrinated, and utility-driven humanoid. Someone who knows both kinds of life would find it grotesque to choose an existence of unnecessary restrictions and limitations. In spite of the many dissatisfactions and occasional hardships that a life of the mind will inevitably bring, Mill has excellent reasons for saying that a dissatisfied Socrates is a happier being than a satisfied pig.
Brahman-centered evolutionary world-view
To a larger and more complex perfection
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
The words 'tree' and 'true' [they are both 'treow']
True knowledge
A new radical idea
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Logic, fallacy and interpretations
Friday, December 23, 2005
Rid yourself of the myths and ideologies
- a) the pleasures of the senses vs. the pleasures of the mind
- b) the different kinds of happiness.
It may also be possible to relate the different kinds of pleasures, and observe that an excess in one kind of pleasure often results in the diminution of another kind, perhaps even pain of some kinds. I think the first thing to observe about pleasures is their variety. Apart from the two identified above, there is also a third kind which some regard as a life goal or wish: the pleasure that is brought about by the exercise of power or influence. I would extend that to include the pleasure associated with helping others, or exercising compassion or kindness towards others. This third kind I will (for the purpose of this discussion) call psychic pleasure. Not all psychic pleasures are benign, such as the pleasures of sadism or domination or “schadenfreude”.
The first point that I would like to make about the three kinds of pleasures is that they are so different that they cannot be measured by a common measure or metric. Bentham tried to do this with his concept of a util, but it’s an absurdity that lives on in shadowy form in economics. The second point is that they are sufficiently different that it is often difficult to see what is common to them. Try and compare the pleasure of sitting and trying to catch fish on a sunny day on the Bosphorus, and the pleasure of listening to say, Bach’s Unaccompanied Cello sonata. The only way of “comparing” them is to ask which of the two one would rather do if one is given a choice, or what sacrifice one is prepared to make in terms of a common numeraire or measure of value (such as money). Either way, one is expressing a subjective preference between two pleasures, but this outwardly shown preference is a substitute for choosing between the two literally incomparable kinds of subjective internal experience one undergoes with each action or source of pleasure.
If one examines this subjective internal experience (called qualia in the philosophical jargon) associated with various kinds of pleasure, one discovers that there is indeed something common to them all, and that is the fact that bodily sensations accompany them. (Of course the sensations themselves may differ from case to case.) This is clear in the case of sensual pleasures (eating, sex, music, etc.) but I suspect (and scientists claim that there is evidence to show that) there is also a certain set of physical bodily reactions or phenomena associated with the qualia of mental and psychic pleasures, of which we are only dimly aware, such as slightly raised heartbeats, the release of certain hormones or neurochemicals, or certain sorts of muscular reactions such as hair standing up. In other words, the act of feeling pleasure is accompanied by emotion and a physiological response from our bodies. Anyone who has developed a neat and “elegant” solution to a difficult mathematical problem, or written a really good poem or essay, or watched a deeply satisfying film, is likely to have become acquainted with such mental and bodily processes.
Possibly because of these physiological reactions, we tend to become attached to pleasures, and to seek their sources, but also to avoid pain. (The absence of pleasure need not be pain, nor the absence of pain, pleasure.) This tendency to develop attachments or addictions to pleasures is the source of desire, which in turn is the source of pain and suffering. Note that although the absence of pleasure need not be pain, the dependence and attachment caused by repeated experiences of pleasure cause desire. And because the sources of pleasures in the world that we experience are ephemeral and finite, they are ultimately causes of suffering. Yet it is impossible to avoid them altogether, for that would mean that one has to cease to live.
The central teachings of more than one major Indian philosophical tradition (but not all!) try to address this problem. Essentially, what these philosophies say (and I am simplifying horribly here) is that our highest goal is to liberate ourselves from those attachments I spoke about, and to treat both pleasure and pain the same. This consists in trying to “see through” the illusory nature of the phenomenal and sensual world known as samsara, and therefore attain the realization that our pleasures and pains, our love and anger and desire, are all subjectively real but objectively not so. We feel pleasure and pain, but we must try and stop mentally and psychically running after pleasure and from pain. Important parts of Indian philosophy, even when they are quite secular, are devoted to an examination of how the illusory nature of the phenomenal world is preserved by our psychological processes. This creates a trap into which all of us fall, but few of us learn to escape from them by “seeing through” the trap. We think the self is real, but in the noumenal world there is no self, only the world. In fact, the self and the world are objectively one, but subjectively separate, according to these schools. The Sanskrit word for the philosophy of knowledge is “darşana” which literally means “seeing” or vision - seeing through the traps of concepts and language and the Kantian categories.
So what about happiness? Happiness lies in the cultivation of the senses and the emotions and the psyche, at the right stage of one’s life, and in the right ways; but ultimately one needs to realize (and not just intellectually) as one gets older that the attachment to the senses and emotions and psyche is a trap through which one needs to liberate oneself. Indian philosophical literature is apparently full of analogical references to this entrapment (such as the caged bird), and the contrast between the real and the illusory, (such as the diamond hiding in the ashes, the rope being mistaken for a snake, the man looking desperately for a necklace he thinks he has lost, all the while wearing it around his neck).
The critical thrust in much of western philosophy has a similar message, but a different motivation: the search for truth. The true world is hidden from us through myths, ideology, and other sources of bias and deception that act like dirt on our cognitive and intellectual spectacles. If you want to encounter the real world, learn to “see” the world clearly: rid yourself of the myths and ideologies through rigorous examination of the concepts and categories and language and discourse which are part of the spectacles which we all must wear. GYANOPROBHA November 26, 2005 in Philosophical Musings Permalink
Comments
One tension that your post highlights between the science-centric (excuse my clumsy phrasing) and the Indian philosophical tradition is this:
Suppose that I were to attain the Indian enlightenment of the sort you are talking about. Suppose I were to "see through" and "attain the realization that our pleasures and pains, our love and anger and desire, are all subjectively real but objectively not so."
It is natural to assume that this would be an achievement for me. My nature dictates that I have some desires for things like food, companionship of others, warmth, sex and etc. If I am to "see through", I'd have to overcome or defeat these desires. In that sense, "seeing through" would be a mental achievement. However, previously you had argued that mental achievements are not purely mental but also have physical indicators:
"...there is also a certain set of physical bodily reactions or phenomena associated with the qualia of mental and psychic pleasures, of which we are only dimly aware, such as slightly raised heartbeats, the release of certain hormones or neurochemicals..."
So I am going to assume that if I manage to see through, since this is an achievement, this will effect pleasure on me, which in turn will have physical epiphenomena associated with it.
This indicates that although I try to overcome the physical world and "see through", I still am redirected to the physical world due to my own physical nature and limitations (i.e. via my own physical reactions at my achievement). Of course, the Indian tradition would just deny that psychic peace would have physical consequences. Posted by: Cihan Baran November 26, 2005 at 12:04 PM
The disciplines and practices that are aimed at the kind of emancipation that I have referred to do indeed seem to have physical epiphenomena accompanying them. There is at least one group of scientists who are investigating these epiphenomena in collaboration with practitioners of Buddhist meditation. See mindandlife.org/collaboration. But I don't know whether this indicates that the physiological accompaniments to the achievement of liberation are identical to those accompanying the more earthly pleasures that I have referred to.
The basic message of these religious traditions seems to be well attested in life experience - do not become dependent on the pleasures of the senses, because this dependence is the cause of suffering. But even to take this message seriously, it would seem that one would need to be aware of the pleasurable sensations accompanying them, and say to oneself: "There lies a trap!" and stay away from overindulging them. Both the scientific findings and the acknowledgement of the suffering caused by in the trap of desire seem to affirm the physical reality of the trap itself. When one "sees through" a trap or an illusion, one is not denying it, but realizing that what looks like X (pleasure or happiness) can in fact turn out to be Y (suffering) if one becomes attached to it.
For me people fall into three categories (not necessarily mutually exclusive, because one can jump from on to another and back again): people who are trapped and don't know it, people who are trapped and know it, and people who see the trap for what it is and escape from it (but they have to fall into it first!). All those aspects of our psychology which we associate with our sense of who we are (especially our cultural/ideological filter) keep changing. Hence what we call the self is in fact a very elusive, changeable thing, difficult to define, although we all have a sense of self. According to some philosophies, the self is a constructed illusion, part of the "web of illusion" without which we can't live in this world, but which is the cause of much suffering and unhappiness. Spiritual enlightenment then lies in seeing "through" this illusion, allowing one to become "detached" from the world even while living fully in it. In fact, this detachment is a condition for engaging joyfully and compassionately with the world without allowing oneself to become swept up by its suffering.
Intellectual enlightenment too is a similar process of "seeing through" ideas, recognizing their weaknesses and strengths, moving towards objectivity through realizing the value of other perspectives. One can see connections between different kinds of knowledge and belief and world-views more clearly, and develop them further, if one frees oneself from "attachment" to any of them (i.e., stop clinging to them). To be able to perceive things in a new way, one has to overcome the perceptions to which one clung earlier.To retain an open mind (both intellectually and spiritually), and still be committed to some things without turning into a jellyfish - this kind of engaged detachment is difficult, as I am finding out all the time. (So is this talk of "treating both pleasure and pain the same", or denying the objective reality of our qualia part of the entrapment by concepts and language through their careless use?) Posted by: GYANOPROBHA November 27, 2005 at 05:39 AM