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Science and Buddhism: at
the crossroads Trinh
Xuan Thuan Astronomy
Department,  Vietnamese versionI.
Are there grounds for a dialogue ? Science
and Buddhism have radically different methods for investigating reality. In
science, intellect and reason have the leading roles. Science gathers knowledge
about the world and condenses that knowledge into laws that can be tested. By
dividing, categorizing, analyzing, comparing, and measuring, scientists express
these laws in the highly abstract language of mathematics. Intuition is not
absent in science, but it gives results only if it can be formulated in a
coherent mathematical structure and validated by observation and analysis. By
contrast, it is intuition – or inner experience – that plays the leading role
in the way Buddhism approaches reality. Buddhism adopts a contemplative
approach with an essentially inward gaze while science looks outward. Buddhism
is mainly concerned with our inner self while science’s main preoccupation is
the external world. Rather than breaking up reality in its different components
like science does in its reductionist method,
Buddhism with its holistic approach aims to understand it in its entirety.
Buddhism has no use for measuring apparatus, and does not rely on the sort of
sophisticated observations that form the basis of experimental science. Its
statements are more qualitative than quantitative. But
the main difference between the pursuit of knowledge
in science versus the same pursuit in Buddhism is their ultimate goals. The
purpose of science is to find out about the world of phenomena. Its main focus
is the understanding of the physical universe, considered to be quantifiable
and objective, so as to gain control over the natural world. On the other hand,
in Buddhism, knowledge is acquired essentially for therapeutic purposes. The
objective is not to find out about the physical world for its own sake, but to
free ourselves from the suffering that is caused by our undue attachment to the
apparent reality of the external world. Empirical inquiry motivated only by
intellectual curiosity is not a principal Buddhist aim. Rather, it wants to
understand the true nature of the world to clear away the mists of ignorance
and open the way to Enlightenment and the path to liberation. Instead of
telescopes, particle accelerators or microscopes, Buddhism uses the mind as the
instrument to investigate the universe. It stresses the importance of
elucidating the nature of the mind through direct contemplative experience.
Over the centuries it has devised a profound and rigorous approach to the
understanding of mental states and of the ultimate nature of the mind. The mind
is behind every experience in life. It determines the way we see the world. It
takes only the slightest change in our minds, in how we deal with mental states
and perceive people and things, for ‘our’ world to be turned completely
upside-down. Thus instead of focussing exclusively on
the objective third-person aspect of the world like classical science does,
Buddhism puts also the emphasis on its first-person aspect. Given
these seemingly profound differences in their methods and aims, can there a
basis for a dialogue between science and Buddhism? Would Buddhism have
something to say about the nature of phenomena as this is not its main
interest, whereas such preoccupations lie at the heart of science? The answer
to these questions is an unequivocal yes. One of Buddhist philosophy’s main
tasks is the study of the nature of reality. While science isn’t Buddhism’s
main preoccupation, it has long been asking questions that are astonishingly
similar to those that preoccupy modern science. Can separate, indivisible
particles be the fundamental building blocks of the world? Do they really
exist, or are they just concepts that help us understand reality? Are the laws
of physics immutable, and do they have an intrinsic existence, like Platonic
ideals? Is there a solid reality behind appearances? What is the origin of the
world of phenomena, the world that we see as ‘real’ around us? What is the
relationship between the animate and the inanimate, between the subject and the
object? What is the nature of space and time? Buddhist philosophers have been
studying and pondering over these questions for the last 2,500 years. Buddhist
literature abounds with logical treatises discussing theories of perception and
analyses of different levels of the world of phenomena. It includes many
psychological treatises which explore various aspects of consciousness and the
ultimate nature of our minds. And
while the investigative methods of Buddhism and science for exploring the world
may look at first glance very different, a closer look reveals that Buddhism,
just like science, relies also on the experimental method to find out about
reality. The Buddhist method of analysis often makes use of
‘thought experiments’ which are also widely used in science. These are hypothetical experiments conducted in the mind, which
lead to irrefutable conclusions, although the experiments are not actually
carried out. This technique has often been used by the best practitioners of
science, in particular by Einstein. For example, when studying the nature of
space and time, the physicist imagines himself astride a particle of light.
When thinking about gravity, he saw himself in an accelerating elevator. In the
same manner, Buddhist scholars use thought experiments to dissect reality.
Buddhism also resembles science in that it encourages skepticism in the
prevailing beliefs. Buddha encourages us not to accept his teachings on faith,
but only after thinking them through ourselves. He tells us: ‘Just as the wise
accept gold after testing it by heating, cutting, and rubbing it, so are my
words to be accepted after examining them, but not out of respect for me.’ If
we take ‘science’ to mean ‘a system of knowledge
that is rigorous, coherent and verifiable’ or ‘a set of principles and
procedures which involves the recognition and formulation of a problem, the
formulation of hypotheses and the collection of data through observation and
experiment to test these hypotheses’ (Webster dictionary), then Buddhism can be
described as a ‘contemplative science’ or a ‘science of the mind’. But here the
field of investigation is not only the
‘objective’ material world which can be physically studied, measured, and
calculated, a world which can be described only in terms of third-person
quantitative methods. It is enlarged to the whole scope of our ‘subjective’
living experience including mental phenomena which can only be perceived through
first-person introspective observation. In the
following sections, I will compare the views of reality as seen through the
lenses of science and Buddhism. I will attempt to build gentle bridges between
the sciences of the physical world and the science of the mind. It is not my
purpose here to make science sound mystical nor to
justify Buddhism’s underpinnings with the discoveries of modern science.
Science functions well, is perfectly self-sufficient and accomplishes well its
stated aim without the need of a philosophical support from Buddhism or from
any other religion. In fact, it is when religion thinks it can tell the ‘truth’
to science that problems arise, as in the disastrous condemnation of Galileo by
the Church in 1633. Buddhism is a science of the Awakening, and whether it is
the Earth that goes around the Sun or the contrary cannot have any consequence
on its philosophical basis. It has been in existence for some 2500 years while
modern science did not get its start until the 16th century. But
because both are quests for the truth, and both use criteria of authenticity,
rigor and logic to attain it, their respective world views should not result in
an insuperable opposition, but rather in a harmonious complementarity.
The physicist Werner Heisenberg expressed this view eloquently: ‘I consider the
ambition of overcoming opposites, including also a synthesis embracing both
rational understanding and the mystical experience of unity, to be the
‘mythos’, spoken or unspoken, of our present day and age.’ I
shall discuss and compare the world views of Science and Buddhism by examining
in turn each of the three basic tenets of Buddhism. I shall consider the
concept of ‘impermanence’ in Section II, and
that of ‘interdependence’ and of ‘vacuity’ in Section III. I shall discuss how,
in contrast to theist religions, Buddhism rejects the concept of a ‘God’ or a
‘Creator’ in Section IV and offer concluding remarks in Section V. II.
Impermanence at the heart of reality Buddhism
distinguishes two types of impermanence. There is first the gross impermanence.
This includes all the obvious changes of persons and things that we witness in
our daily lives: the changing of seasons, the erosion of mountains, the passage
from youth to old age, our varying emotions. Then
there is the subtle impermanence: at each infinitesimal moment, everything that
seems to exist changes. The universe is not made of
solid, distinct entities, but is like a vast stream of events and dynamic
currents that are all interconnected and constantly interacting. This concept
of perpetual and omnipresent change in Buddhism is in accord with the
underlying theme of evolution in all of 20th century science. Consider
modern cosmology. Aristotle’s immutable heavens and Change
and evolution have also entered other fields of science. In geology, the
continents which were thought to be attached solidly to the Earth’s crust are
now known to move several centimeters per year, creating volcanoes and
earthquakes at the boundaries where the continental plates meet. The surface of
the Earth is constantly changing and remodeling itself. As for the biological
sciences, the concept of evolution is ushered in by the naturalist Charles Darwin
in 1859. Humans have no longer a divine lineage. They are not the descendants
of Adam and Eve, themselves created by God, as thought before, but the product
of a long evolution shaped by natural selection. Going back in time, man’s
ancestors are in turn primates, reptiles, fishes, invertebrates and primitive
unicellular organisms. Impermanence
rules not only the macroscopic world, but also the atomic and subatomic
domains. Particles can modify their nature: a quark can change its family or
‘flavor’, a proton can become a neutron while emitting a positron and a
neutrino. Matter and antimatter can annihilate each other to become pure
energy. The energy of motion of a particle can be transformed into another
particle, or vice versa, i.e. an object’s property can become an object. The
electrons in the objects that surround us are never still. At this very moment,
there are billions of fleeting neutrinos that go through my body every second.
Because of the quantum uncertainty of energy, the space around us is filled
with an unimaginable number of ‘virtual’ particles, with fleeting ghost-like
existences. Constantly appearing and disappearing, they are a perfect
illustration of impermanence with their infinitely short life cycles. There is
not any doubt: the ‘subtle impermanence’ of Buddhism is everywhere in the
description that modern science gives of reality. III.
The interdependence and non-separability of phenomena 1.
The The
concept of interdependence lies at the heart of the Buddhist vision of the
nature of reality. It says that ‘nothing exists inherently, or can be its own
cause.’ An object can be defined only in terms of other objects and exist only
in relationship to others. In other words, this arises because that exists.
Interdependence is essential to the manifestation of phenomena. Our daily
experience makes us think that things possess a real, objective independence,
as though they exist all on their own and have intrinsic identities. But
Buddhism maintains that this way of seeing phenomena is just a mental
construct. It calls this perception of distinct phenomena resulting from
isolated causes and conditions as ‘relative truth’ or ‘delusion’. Rather it
adopts the notion of mutual causality: an event can happen only because it is dependent
on other factors. Because everything is part of the whole, nothing can happen
separately. Any given thing in our world can appear only because it is
connected, conditioned and in turn conditioning, co-present and co-operating in
constant transformation. An entity that exists independently
of all others as an immutable and autonomous entity couldn’t act on anything,
or be acted on itself. Buddhism
thus sees the world as a vast flow of events that are linked together and
participate in one another. The way we perceive this flow crystallizes certain
aspects of the non-separable universe, thus creating the illusion that there
are autonomous entities that are completely distinct from each other and
totally separate from us. Thus phenomena are simply events that happen in some
circumstances. This view does not mean that Buddhism denies conventional truth
– the sort that ordinary people perceive or the scientist detects with his
apparatus --, or that it contests the laws of cause and effect, or the laws of
physics and mathematics. It simply holds that, if we dig deep enough, there is
a difference between the way we see the world and the way it really is. The
most subtle aspect of interdependence concerns the relationship between a
phenomenon’s ‘designation base’ and is ‘designation’.
An object’s ‘designation bases’ refer to its position, dimension, form, color
or any other of its apparent characteristics. Together, they form the object’s
‘designation’, a mental construct which assigns an autonomous distinct reality
to that object. In our every day experience, when we see an object, we aren’t
struck by its nominal existence, but by its designation. Because we experience
it, Buddhism does not say that the object doesn’t exist. But neither does it
say that the object possesses an intrinsic reality. It has the view that the
object exists (thus avoiding the nihilism that Westerners have sometime
mistakenly attributed to Buddhism), but that this existence is purely
interdependent. This is what the Buddha calls the 2.
The non-locality of the quantum world A
notion strikingly similar to that of Buddhism’s interdependence is the concept
of ‘non-separability’ or ‘non-locality’ in quantum
mechanics. This was revealed by the famous thought experiment designed by
Einstein, Podolsky and Rosen (EPR) in 1935 in an
attempt to show that the probabilistic interpretation of quantum mechanics is
wrong, and that the theory is incomplete. In simplified terms, the thought
experiment goes like follows. Imagine a particle that disintegrates
spontaneously into two photons A and B. The laws of symmetry
dictates that they will travel in opposite directions. If A goes
westward, then we will detect B to the east. It all seems perfectly normal. But
that’s forgetting the strangeness of the quantum world. Like Janus, light is double-faced. It can be either wave or
particle. Before being captured by the detector, quantum theory tells us that A
has the appearance of a wave. This wave being not localized, there was a
non-zero probability that A may be found in any direction. It’s only when it
has been captured that A ‘learns’ that it is moving westward. But, if A didn’t
‘know’ before being captured which direction it had taken, how could B have
‘guessed’ what A was doing and adjusted its behavior accordingly so that it
could be captured at the same time in the opposite direction? This is
impossible, unless A can inform B instantaneously of the direction it has
taken. This would imply a light signal propagating at infinite speed, which
would be in contradiction with general relativity. Because ‘God does not send
telepathic signals’ and there can be ‘no spooky action at a distance’, Einstein
concluded that quantum mechanics did not provide a complete description of
reality, that A must ‘know’ which direction it was going to take and ‘tell’ B
before they split up. He thought that each particle possesses ‘hidden
variables’ which quantum theory did not take into account, hence its
incompleteness. For
nearly 30 years, the EPR experiment remained as a thought experiment because
physicists did not know how to carry it out in practice. It was not until 1964
that the physicist John Bell found a way to transform the central idea of EPR
from a metaphysical speculation to a proposition that can tested in the
laboratory. He devised a mathematical theorem now called ‘ 3.
Foucault’s pendulum and the interdependence of the macrocosm Another
famous and fascinating physics experiment shows that the interdependence of
phenomena isn’t limited to the world of particles but pervades the whole
universe. This is the pendulum experiment carried out by the physicist Léon Foucault in 1851 at the Panthéon
in But
there remains a puzzle not clearly understood to this day. The swing of the
pendulum is fixed in space, but fixed with respect to what? The pendulum is
attached to a building which is itself attached to Earth. The Earth carries us
at some 30 km/s around the Sun, which is itself flying through space at 230
km/s in its orbit around the center of the Milky Way. Our Galaxy is in turn
falling toward the Andromeda galaxy qt some 90 km/s. The Local Group of
galaxies, the most massive members of which are the Galaxy and Andromeda, is
moving at 600 km/s under the gravitational attraction of the Virgo cluster and
of the Hydra-Centaurus supercluster.
The latter is itself falling toward the Great
Attractor, the mass of which is equivalent to that of tens of thousands of
galaxies. Is the behavior of Foucault’s pendulum dictated by any of these
relatively nearby structures? In order to find out which celestial object
controls the swing of the pendulum, we simply set the pendulum swinging in that
celestial object’s direction. If, as that object moves in the sky, it always
remains in the plane of the pendulum’s swing, then we can say that the object
is responsible for the pendulum’s behavior. Let’s swing the pendulum in the
direction of the Sun. After a month, our star has already shifted by a whole
15° away from the pendulum’s direction of swing. Let’s now point the pendulum
toward the nearest star, Proxima Centauri, which is 4 light-years away. The star stays longer in the swing
plane, but after several years, ends up drifting away. The Andromeda galaxy,
which is 2.3 million light-years away, moves away more slowly, but does drift
off the plane. The time spent in line with the pendulum’s swing grows longer
and the shift becomes smaller the greater the distance of the celestial object
is. Only the most distant galaxies, situated at the edge of the known universe,
billions of light-years away, do not drift away from the plane of the pendulum’s
swing. The
conclusion we must draw is extraordinary: Foucault’s pendulum doesn’t base its
behavior on its local environment, but rather on the most distant galaxies, or,
more accurately, on the entire universe, given that practically all visible
matter is to be found in distant galaxies and not in nearby stars. Thus, what
happens here on Earth is decided by all the vast cosmos. What occurs on our
tiny planet depends on all the structures in the universe. Why
does the pendulum behave in such a way? We don’t know. The physicist Ernst Mach
thought it could be explained by a sort of omnipresence of matter and its
influence. According to him, an object’s mass – that is to say, the amount of
its inertia, or resistance to movement – comes from the influence of the entire
universe through a mysterious interaction, different from gravity, which he did
not precise. No one else has managed to do so since. Just as the EPR experiment
forces us to accept that interactions exist in the microcosm that are different
from those described by known physics, Foucault’s pendulum does the same for
the macrocosm. Such interactions are not based on a force or an exchange of
energy, and they connect the entire universe. Again, we are drawn to a
conclusion that resembles very much Buddhism’s concept of interdependence: each
part contains the whole, and each part depends on all the other parts. 4.
Emptiness or the absence of an intrinsic reality The
notion of interdependence leads us directly to the third key idea of Buddhism
(the two others being impermanence and interdependence) :
that of ‘emptiness’ or ‘vacuity’. Since everything is interdependent, nothing
can be self-defining and exist inherently. The idea of intrinsic properties
that exist in themselves and by themselves must be thrown out. When Buddhism
states that emptiness is the ultimate nature of things, it means that the
things we see around us, the phenomena of our world, lack any autonomous or
permanent existence. Here ‘emptiness’ does not mean ‘nothingness’, ‘void’ or
‘absence of phenomena’ as early Western commentators on Buddhism thought, but
the absence of inherent existence. Buddhism does not espouse any form of
nihilism. Emptiness does not correspond to nonexistence. If you can’t speak of
real existence, you can’t speak of nonexistence either. Thus according to
Buddhism, learning to understand the essential unreality of things is an
integral part of the spiritual way. Emptiness isn’t just the true nature of phenomena, it’s also the potential that allows the
manifestation of an infinite variety of phenomena. To quote the second-century
Buddhist master Nagarjuna: ‘Since all is empty, all
is possible’ or the famous scripture Perfection of Wisdom: ‘Though phenomena
appear, they are empty; though empty, they appear.” If reality were permanent, and its properties too, then nothing would
change. Phenomena could not appear. But because things have no intrinsic
reality, they can have infinite manifestations. On the
subject of the absence of an intrinsic reality, quantum physics has once again
something strikingly similar to say. According to Bohr and Heisenberg, the main
proponents of what is called ‘the Copenhagen interpretation’ of quantum
mechanics, we can no longer talk about atoms and electrons as being real
entities with well-defined properties, such as speed and position, tracing out
equally well-defined trajectories. We must consider them as part of a world
made up of potentialities and not of objects and facts. Light and matter can be
said to have no intrinsic reality because they have a dual nature: they can
appear either as waves or particles depending on the measuring apparatus. The
phenomenon that we call a ‘photon’ is a wave when the measuring machine is shut
off and we are not observing it. But as soon as the apparatus is activated and
a measurement is made, it takes the appearance of a particle. The particle and
wave aspects cannot be dissociated. In the contrary, they complement each
other. This is what Bohr calls the ‘principle of complementarity’.
Thus the very nature of light and matter is subject to interdependent
relationships. It is no longer intrinsic but changes depending on the
interaction between the observer and the object under observation. To speak of
a particle’s intrinsic reality, or the reality it possesses when unobserved, is
meaningless because we can never apprehend it. Thus for Bohr, the ‘atom’
concept is merely a convenient picture that helps physicists put together
diverse observations of the particle world into a coherent and logical scheme.
He emphasized the impossibility of going beyond the results of experiments and
measurements: ‘In our description of nature, the purpose is not to disclose the
real essence of phenomena, but only to track down, so far as possible,
relations between the manifold aspects of our experience.’ Schrödinger also
warned us against a materialistic view of atoms and their constituents: ‘It is
better not to view a particle as a permanent entity, but rather as an
instantaneous event. Sometimes these events link together to
create the illusion of permanent entities.’ Quantum mechanics has
radically revised our conception of an object, by making it subordinate to a
measurement, or in other words an event. Just as in Buddhism, only
relationships between objects exist, but not the objects themselves. IV.
In search of the Great Watchmaker 1.The fine-tuning of the universe Modern
cosmology has discovered that the conditions that allow for life and
intelligence to emerge in the universe seem to be coded in the properties of
each atom, star and galaxy in the cosmos and in all of the physical laws that
govern it. The universe appears to have been very finely tuned in order to
produce an intelligent observer capable of appreciating its organization and
harmony. This statement is the basis of the ‘anthropic
principle’ from the Greek ‘anthropos’ which means
‘person’. Concerning the anthropic principle, there
are two remarks to be made. First, the definition I gave above concerns only
the ‘strong’ version of the anthropic principle.
There is also a ‘weak’ version which doesn’t presuppose any intention in the
design of nature. It almost comes down to a tautology – the properties of the
universe must be compatible with the existence of mankind – and I will not
discuss it further. Second, the term ‘anthropic’ is
really inappropriate as it implies that humanity was the goal toward which the
universe has evolved. In fact, anthropic arguments
would apply to any form of intelligence in the universe. What
is the scientific basis of the anthropic principle?
The way our universe evolved depends on two types of information: 1) its
initial conditions such as its total mass and energy contents, its initial
expansion rate, etc; and 2) about 15 physical constants: the gravitational
constant, the Planck constant, the speed of light, the masses of the elementary
particles, etc. We can measure the values of these constants with extreme
precision, but we do not have any theory to predict them. By constructing
‘model universes’ with varying initial conditions and physical constants,
astrophysicists have discovered that these need to be fine-tuned to the
extreme: if the physical constants and the initial conditions were just
slightly different, we wouldn’t be here to talk about them. For instance, let’s
consider the initial density of matter of the universe. Matter has a
gravitational pull that counteracts the force of expansion from the Big Bang
and slows down the universe’s rate of expansion. If its initial density had
been too high, then the universe would have collapsed into itself after a
relatively short time – a million years, a century or even just a year,
depending on the exact density. Such a time span would have been too short for
stars to accomplish their nuclear alchemy and produce heavy elements like
carbon, which are essential to life. On the other hand, if the initial density
of matter had been too low, then there would not have been enough gravity for
stars to form. And no stars, no heavy elements, and no life! Everything hangs
on an extremely delicate balance. The initial density of the universe had to be
fixed to an accuracy of 10^-60. This astonishing precision is analogous to the
dexterity of an archer hitting a one-centimeter-square target placed 14 billion
light-years away, at the edge of the observable universe! The precision of the
fine-tuning varies, depending on the particular constant or initial condition,
but in each case, just a tiny change makes the universe barren, devoid of life
and consciousness. 2.
Is there a principle of organization? What
are we to make of such an extraordinary fine-tuning? It seems to me that we are
faced with two distinct choices: the tuning was the consequence of either
chance or necessity (to quote the title of the French biologist Jacques Monod’s book, Chance and Necessity, Alfred A. Knopf, New
York, 1971). If we opt for chance, then we must postulate the existence of an
infinite number of other universes besides our own forming what is called a ‘multiverse’. Each of these universes will have its own
combination of physical constants and initial conditions. But ours was the only
universe born with just the right combination to have evolve
to create life. All the others were losers and only ours is the winner. If you
play the lottery an infinite number of times, then you inevitably end up
winning the jackpot. On the other hand, if we reject the hypothesis of a multiverse and postulate that there exists a single
universe, ours, then we must postulate the existence of a principle of creation
which finely adjusted the evolution of the universe. How to
choose between these two options? Science does not help us here because it
allows both possibilities. Concerning the chance option, there are several ways
that have been suggested to create a multiverse. For
example, to get around the probabilistic description of the quantum world, the
physicist Hugh Everett has proposed that the universe splits into as many
nearly identical copies of itself as there are possibilities and choices to be
made. Some universes would differ only by the position of one electron in one
atom, but others would be more radically different. Their physical laws and
constants, their initial conditions wouldn’t be the same. Another scenario is
that of a cyclical universe with an infinite series of Big Bangs and Big
Crunches. Whenever the universe is reborn from its ashes to begin again in a
new Big Bang, it would start with a new combination of physical constants and
initial conditions. Yet another possibility to create a multiverse
is the theory proposed by the physicist Andrei Linde
and others whereby each of the infinite number of fluctuations of the
primordial quantum froth created a universe. Our universe would then be just a
tiny bubble in a super-universe made up of an infinite number of other bubbles.
Except for our own, none of those universes would harbor intelligent life
because their physical constants and laws wouldn’t be
suitable. 3.
There is not a Creator in Buddhism What
is the position of Buddhism regarding the remarkable fine-tuning of the
universe? Does it accept the notion of an all-knowing Creator or some sort of
principle of creation that finely adjusted the evolution of the universe? Or
does it attribute the remarkable harmony and precision of the universe to
chance? The question of whether or not there is a creating God is a key point
of distinction between Buddhism and the other great spiritual traditions of the
world. For Buddhism, the notion of a ‘first cause’ does not stand up to analysis.
And that’s because of the concepts of vacuity and interdependence discussed
before. Buddhism considers the question of ‘creation’ irrelevant because
according to it, phenomena aren’t really born, in the sense that they pass from
nonexistence into existence. They exist only in terms of what is called
‘relative truth’ and have no actual reality. Relative, or conventional, truth
comes from our experience of the world where we suppose that things exist
objectively. Buddhism says that such perceptions are deceptive as, ultimately,
phenomena are not objective, i.e. they have no
intrinsic existence. This is the ‘absolute truth.’ In these terms, the
question of creation becomes a false problem. The problem of an ‘origin’ comes
about only from a belief in the absolute reality of phenomena. The idea of
creation is necessary only if we believe in an objective world. It disappears
when we realize that phenomena, although they can be clearly seen, have no
separate existence and are not ‘objective’. And if creation is not needed, the
idea of a Creator is also not required. The
Buddhist view does not, however, exclude the possibility of the unfolding of
the world. Obviously the phenomena we see around us aren’t nonexistent, but
Buddhism maintains that if we examine how they exist, then we soon see that
they can’t be viewed as a set of independent entities, each with its own
existence. To quote Nagarjuna, the great
second-century Indian philosopher: ‘The nature of phenomena is that of mutual
dependence; in themselves, phenomena are nothing at all.’ Thus their evolution
is neither by chance nor fixed by divine intervention. Instead they follow the
laws of cause and effect in a global interdependence and reciprocal causality.
Because things have no independent reality, they can’t really ‘begin’ or ‘end’
as distinct entities. The idea of the universe’s beginning and ending belongs
to relative, not absolute, truth. How
does this view square with present scientific cosmology? The only sort of
universe that would have no beginning nor end would be a cyclical universe,
with an infinite series of Big Bangs and Big Crunches in the past and in the
future. But the scenario of our universe one day collapsing into itself in a
Big Crunch appears to be not in agreement with present-day observations. These
say that the mass densities of luminous matter (0.5% of the total mass and
energy content of the universe), dark matter (29.5%) and dark energy (70%) add
up to be just the critical density. This means that the geometry of the universe
is flat, i.e. it will expand forever, its expansion velocity not reaching zero
until after an infinite time in the future. Thus our present state of knowledge
seems to exclude the idea of a cyclical universe. 4.
Streams of consciousness coexisting with the material world How
about the anthropic principle? As far as Buddhism is
concerned, the extraordinary fine-tuning of the universe for consciousness to
emerge is not the work of a Great Watchmaker since the latter does not exist.
Nor is it the product of pure chance as suggested by proponents of the multiverse idea: we are here because we just happen to live
by chance in the universe with the right combination of physical constants and
physical conditions. Buddhism considers that the material universe and
consciousness have always coexisted since beginningless
time. To coexist, phenomena must be mutually suitable, hence the remarkable
fine-tuning. The latter arises because matter and consciousness cannot exclude
each other, because they are interdependent. How does that point of view chime
with modern neurobiology? Biological sciences are still a long way from being
able to explain the origin of consciousness. However, the vast majority of
biologists think that there is no need to postulate streams of consciousness
that coexists with matter. They hold that that the former can emerge from the
latter, that mind can arise from matter. Consciousness arose once the networks
of brain cells in living beings reached a certain threshold of complexity. In
their view, consciousness emerged, just as life itself, from the intricate
assembly of inanimate atoms. One
question arises: when Buddhism conjectures that consciousness is separate from,
and transcends the physical, isn’t it falling back into Descartes’s
mind-body dualism, in which there are two distinct types of reality, that of
the mind (or thought) and that of the material world? The answer is no.
Buddhism’s view is radically different from Cartesian dualism. There’s merely a
conventional difference between matter and consciousness because, in the end,
neither of them has an inherent existence. Because Buddhism refutes the
ultimate reality of phenomena, it also refutes the idea that consciousness is
independent and exists inherently. V.
Science and spirituality: two windows into reality I have
attempted above to show that there are striking convergences between the views
of reality of Buddhism and modern science. The concept of ‘impermanence’, a key
Buddhist concept, echoes the concept of evolution in the cosmological,
geological and biological sciences. Nothing is static,
everything changes, moves and evolves, from the tiniest atom to the largest
structures in the universe. The universe itself has acquired a history.
Darwinian evolution coupled with natural selection rules the constant changes
in the living world. The concept of ‘interdependence’, which is at the heart of
Buddhism, resonates with the globality and non-separability of space implied by the EPR experiment on the
atomic and subatomic scales, and by Foucault’s pendulum experiment on the scale
of the universe. The Buddhist concept of ‘emptiness’, the absence of any
permanent and autonomously existing phenomena, finds its scientific equivalent
in the dual nature of light and matter in the quantum world. Because a photon
is a wave when we do not observe it and a particle when we make a measurement,
it can be said not to have an inherent and autonomous existence, its appearance
depending on the observer. I have
also pointed out that Buddhism rejects the idea of a beginning of the universe
and of a God or a creative principle which fine-tunes its properties to allow
the emergence of consciousness. Buddhism considers that consciousness is
coexistent with matter, but does not derive from it. Because both are mutually
interdependent, there is no need for to fine-tune the material universe for it
to harbor consciousness. The
above convergences are not surprising, given that both science and Buddhism use
criteria of rigor and authenticity to attain the truth. Since both aim to
describe reality, they must meet on common grounds and not be exclusive of each
other. Whereas in science the primary methods of discovery are experimentation
and theorizing based on analysis, in Buddhism contemplation is the primary
method. Both are windows which allow us to peer at reality. They are both valid
in their respective domains and complement each other. Science reveals to us
‘conventional’ knowledge. Its aim is to understand the world of phenomena. Its
technical applications can have a good or bad effect on our physical existence.
Contemplation, however, by helping us to see the true nature of reality, aims
to improve our inner selves so that we can act to improve everybody’s
existence. Scientists use ever more powerful instruments to probe nature. In
the contemplative approach, the only instrument is the mind. The contemplative
observes how his thoughts are bound together and how they bind him. He examines
the mechanisms of happiness and suffering and tries to discover the mental
processes that increase his inner peace and make him more open to others in
order to develop them, as well as those processes that have a destructive
effect in order to eliminate them. Science provides us with information, but
brings about no spiritual growth or transformation. By contrast, the spiritual
or contemplative approach must lead to a profound personal transformation in
the way we perceive the world and act on it. The Buddhist, by realizing that
objects have no intrinsic existence, lessens his attachment to them, which
diminishes his suffering. The scientist, with the same realization, is content
to consider that as an intellectual advance which can be used to further his
work, without changing fundamentally his basic vision of the world and how he
leads his life. When
faced with ethical or moral issues which, as in the field of genetics, are
becoming ever more pressing, science needs the help of spirituality in order
not to forget our humanity. Einstein expresses admirably that need for the
union of science and spirituality: ‘The religion of the future will be a cosmic
religion. It will have to transcend a personal God and avoid dogma and theology
Encompassing both the natural and the spiritual, it
will have to be based on a religious sense arising from the experience of all
things, natural and spiritual, considered as a meaningful unity… Buddhism
answers this description…If there is any religion that could respond to the
needs of modern science, it would be Buddhism.’ Suggestions
for further reading: The
themes discussed here are developed in greater detail in: Ricard, Matthieu, and Thuan, Trinh Xuan, The Quantum and the Lotus, Over
the last 20 years, there have been a series of ‘Mind and life’ meetings between
the Dalai Lama and a number of eminent scientists including neurobiologists,
psychiatrists, philosophers and physicists. The emphasis of these meetings has
been mainly on the mind since Buddhism has devised over 25 centuries a profound
and rigorous approach to understanding mental states and the ultimate nature of
the mind, and can bring much to Western neurobiology.
Published accounts of these meetings include: Goleman,
Daniel, ed., Healing Emotions: Conversations with the Dalai Lama on
Mindfulness, Emotions and Health, ----.
Destructive Emotions: A scientific Dialogue with the Dalai Lama, Houshmand,
Zara, Livingston, Robert B., Wallace, B. Alan, eds.
Consciousness at the Crossroads: Conversations with the Dalai Lama on Brainscience and Buddhism, Varela,
Francisco, J. ed., Sleeping, Dreaming and Dying: An Exploration of
Consciousness with the Dalai Lama, Varela,
Francisco, J. and Zajonc,
Arthur, ed., The New Physics and Cosmology: Dialogues
with the Dalai Lama, Other
works that discuss the relationships between science and Buddhism are: Wallace,
B. Alan, The Taboo of Subjectivity: Toward a new
science of consciousness, ---- ed. Buddhism and Science: Breaking New Ground, |