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Four Noble Truths, Immanuel Kant, Justin Whitaker, Leo Strauss, Lotus Sūtra, Pali suttas, Plato, Siddhattha Gotama (Buddha), upāyakauśalya
Justin Whitaker makes an important point about my Noble Truths post: “I have to laugh, thinking of the Buddha as a ‘mostly-suffering-free’ spiritual ideal instead of the traditional ‘fully awakened one.'”
Justin’s quite right that what I present in that post looks like a rather washed-out version of Buddhist tradition, “a bit dour.” I think the title “One and a half noble truths” effectively acknowledges that I don’t claim the view to be traditional Buddhism. I agree that it doesn’t provide the kind of excitement available in the Third Noble Truth’s promise of a life without suffering.
But I don’t make the claim that one and a half of the truths are right on the grounds that it will motivate people to practice; I make the claim on the grounds that it’s true. Amicus Buddha, sed magis amica veritas. If it’s not Buddhist, well, that’s a big reason I don’t call myself a Buddhist.
And if people don’t get motivated? If they don’t do the hard work the path requires, because the diminution (as opposed to elimination) of suffering is not enough of a motivator? Well, then the questions get tougher. Should we tell people that actually all four truths are true after all, so that people suffer a little less? Then it seems we’re looking at what Plato called the noble lie: saying things that aren’t so, for the good of the people you’re lying to?
Buddhist literature uses the much nicer-sounding term of “skill in means” (up?yakau?alya), but I prefer Plato’s term because it’s a bit clearer about what’s involved. The classic example of skill in means is the Lotus Sūtra’s parable of the burning house. A rich man’s house is on fire and he needs to get his kids out, quickly. The kids love playing with wagons, so he quickly figures the surest way to get them out is to tell them there are toy wagons waiting for them outside. They leave the house quickly, and ask for the wagons. Instead of wagons, the man gives them something much better: beautiful jewel-encrusted chariots.
As a way of explaining why the Buddha might have taught Theravāda if he really believed Mahāyāna, the parable is pretty and enjoyable. But if one wants to practise “skill in means” oneself, the story feels like a bit of a copout. What if a poor man’s house is on fire? What if the only way to save your kids is to tell them there are toy wagons outside – but you have no way of giving them toy wagons, let alone jewelled chariots?
Immanuel Kant’s ethics is noted for telling us not to lie, ever – not even to a murderer who asks us whether his potential victim is inside our house. Surely Kant would stand his ground on this question, if anyone would: if you can’t get the children out of the house with truth (or at least with force), you still must not lie. Better to just let them burn.
The problem is particularly thorny in the context of the previous discussion because Justin’s a big Kant fan, and tries hard to illustrate parallels between Buddhist and Kantian ethics. It is worth noting here as well that false speech (mus?v?da) is one of the things prohibited by the Five Precepts.
I don’t take as strong a stance against lying as Kant does; few would. But I’m acutely aware of the harm that lies and half-truths can do – to others and to ourselves. And I’m quite uncomfortable with the idea of telling other people lies because we think we know better than they do. The noble lie is associated today with the thought of Leo Strauss: the truth is too hard for normal people to handle; they will be better off with traditional, revealed religion. Philosophers are better off keeping the truth esoteric, a secret. At least, that’s how I understand Strauss’s position, which is difficult to figure out since, well, he was trying to keep his real view a secret. But I have some real trouble with such a position, because it gets in the way of humility. If we don’t tell people our real views, we don’t give them a chance to call us out when we’re wrong. If fully awakened people exist, maybe they can get away with skill in means. But I’m sure not that, and so for me it’s worth sticking to the truth whenever possible. And that would seem to imply publicly endorsing the view of one and a half noble truths, however dour and uninspiring it might look.
The issue of humility complicates the question further, though. I noted before that sometimes our own attitudes and behaviours are the problem, and submitting to a tradition can help us get over them; this is its own form of humility. But it seems very dangerous to submit to a tradition when we’re not confident that most of it is true. That way lie the cults.
The traditional style of teaching is gauged to the capacity of the pupil. The twirling of a flower might make the arhats faint and have the multitude scratch their heads. The gold encrusted chariots are by way of an analogy and its narrow focus is the delivery of teaching that is appropriate and effective. Internal coherence is the rule in the major religions although at the esoteric edges theologians may differ. That is different from divergence in respect of fact. I don’t believe that at some point a teacher is likely to say ‘remember what I was telling you about x, in fact y is the case’. He is more likely to say x is symbolic of y or is the expression in concrete terms of what is an immaterial reality.
That’s true, and as I noted with the burning house example, there isn’t really that much dishonesty in the way bodhisattvas’ skill in means is displayed in the s?tras. I’m more concerned here with what happens when we lesser beings try to apply the doctrine of skill in means in our everyday lives and practice – for us, the choice may well be between telling a deliberate falsehood and leaving people unmotivated to improve themselves.
Thanks for another kind mention, Amod. And another brilliant post. One day, Kant shall prevail! lol.
Somewhere in his lectures on ethics, I’ll try to track down a precise quote and citation, Kant makes clear that if a person would do harm with the truth, we have no duty *to that person* to tell the truth. He has a special term for it and everything… There’s a bit of it here in the third point: http://www.toi.edu/Resources/KANTLIE2.html
In his “Tell a Lie” essay he says that our wrong in lying when compelled is not to the other person, but to duty itself.
That makes sense to me in Buddhist terms as well. Our “violation” of morality there is still a violation of morality, even if it’s for beneficial ends. The tradition surely isn’t consistent with this, but I like to call to mind the Jataka tale of the Bodhisattva (B) on the ship with the bandit who will kill all the other passengers. Out of great compassion the B kills the bandit, saving the others AND the bandit (in that he doesn’t commit his heinous deed). B is reborn in hell for his murder, but quickly shows compassion there and is born again out of it.
“… submitting to a tradition can help us get over them; this is its own form of humility. But it seems very dangerous to submit to a tradition when we’re not confident that most of it is true.” So we just need to get you from 1.5 Noble Truths to 2.1? Ha.
Sure, I don’t think I tried to say that the duty in Kant was to the other person. But I think that just makes the problem here more acute: if the duty were to the other person, it would be much easier to say that your duty to get them out of suffering takes priority over the duty not to lie. But if the duty is to morality itself, then it always takes priority, period. Kant generally deals with duty conflicts in terms of the perfect/imperfect duty distinction: you must always follow perfect duties, with no exceptions; but you must only follow imperfect duties when it’s possible to do so.
I didn’t realize that story was a j?taka – do you know which one? (It’s also in the Up?yakau?alya Sūtra, and Śāntideva refers to it in the ?ik??, so I know it that way.) The thing is, this is a totally un-Kantian action. To refrain from killing is a perfect duty, no exceptions – that’s why Kant prohibits suicide in the Grounding. Making yourself or others happy (in this world or the next) is only an imperfect duty, and can’t stand in the way of truthfulness. This is another respect, I suppose, in which the doctrine of skill in means is highly un-Kantian.
Sorry for the late reply, old chap. I only know that story second/third-hand, so I actually can’t say for sure if it is a j?taka. I may well have mistakenly assumed it to be.
Just as the story is un-Kantian (I agree, it is), I think it shows that Buddhists agree that the act is *wrong* / unwholesome. No amount of good intentions in the killing could prevent the Bodhisattva from reeping the karma-vipaka sowed in the act of killing. But it does also show the Buddhist push for a better ethical theory, examining not only the intentions of an act (intent to kill), but also the second order intentions (intent to save lives).
Sure, and I think that’s fairly standard in Buddhist thought. Possibly the biggest feature that distinguishes Buddhism from Jainism – its main early competitor – is the focus on intention. (That’s why Buddhist monks don’t wear facemasks; for Jains, since you get bad karma whatever your intention was, you need to wear a facemask to avoid breathing in microorganisms and killing them.) So the focus on second-order intention is important. But that seems a characteristically consequentialist focus, rather than a Kantian one; for a utilitarian, killing to save lives is easily justified, whereas for a Kantian it never is.
Kant is playing with you as a society could not exist if it followed the rule unconditionally. That’s why there is always an exception, much the way Buddhist Sangha classes on the subject talk about in following the precepts, from my experience, anyway.
Well, Kant certainly didn’t think so; that’s why he talks about the “kingdom of ends,” which is just such a society – a great and harmonious one. It wouldn’t exist in practice (except perhaps in a small intentional community), but (just as with Plato’s Republic) that’s because weak human nature isn’t up to the task of living that way, not because the society is inherently self-contradictory. I suspect he’s right on that point.
Kant’s Mother was a very strong advocate for not lying. Was he challenging his upbringing?
Not at all – he was putting a philosophical underpinning under what he’d learned as a child.
I]m not sure on this. I’ve only read that she was “stearn” in her position. She might have been a Father figure to him, as pertains to the Law. The topic on the next post on gender, sorry.
I’ve always wondered, does “skillful means” have to with overcoming one’s own suffering, or does it have to do with leading others to the promised land as if the other(outside me) existed in the first place?
Skill in means is definitely about the other; that’s one reason it features much more prominently in Mahāyāna than in early/mainstream Buddhism. I can’t think of any traditional example of using skillful means on yourself (though the exchange between Justin and myself on the noble truths post points to a hypothetical example.)
I only just realized that I was talking about “noble truths” and “noble lies” together. Neat!
If skill in means is definitely about the other then it would also depend on the “other” exists or not doesn’t it as that would determine the reading of the context the example would give. ??
An example of the other with myself might be listening to “my” thoughts?
Hmm… that’s a good point. At the ultimate level skill in means may not be entirely other-oriented, since (for most of the Mahāyāna thinkers that use the concept) self and other are not in the end different. At the lowest level of conventional truth, though, skill in means in practice always seems to be aimed at others. As mentioned in the previous discussion, I could theoretically imagine it being used on oneself, but it’s usually not treated that way.
The “lowest levels of conventional truth are built on imaginary social relations, yes? That’s, to me, and others, why it isn’t treated that way.
I’m inclined lately to think of “skill in means” to actually be enlightenment, since the later is a verb and the former a description of one.
I’m sorry for yet another, and don’t intentions have to do with morality, not ethics?
Tricky, but I wouldn’t quite say so. Assuming the Śāntidevan or Nietzschean distinction that I made before, it would seem that free will and volition have to do primarily with morality; but these are not the same as intention. One can aim at a particular result even if one’s actions are entirely determined by outside factors and causes; the aim itself can be determined.
You say that free will and volition have to do primarily with morality. What is it that makes these different than intension? Does an ethics need an intention other than to obey? Or duty?
“One can aim at a particular result even if…”, like there is an exception, no?
Sounds like you want it both ways.
Free will seems to imply to me a causation originating in some sense within the self. It doesn’t seem to me that intention requires this. Intention is the aiming toward a result that may not actually be achieved. It seems to me that this can exist without free will per se. If one programs a mechanical arm to pick up rocks and the arm continually reaches over to a particular place where the rocks are supposed to be – but they aren’t there for whatever reason – I think one can then speak of the arm intending to pick the rocks up, but failing at its intended action.
You’re probably on to something here, though. I can tell there are layers to this question that I haven’t sufficiently picked apart yet.
I can fail in my mortgage totally with the intent of not doing so. The Law would not call my failure immoral but unethical that I would enter a contract and not fulfill it. If I failed with every intent on failing the Law still wouldn’t care. Maybe a weak example, but…
As such Kant really goes after the contrast of the Law(ethics) with morality.
I like your rock example.
I also like your first sentence about free will as that to me implies the unconscious not holding onto a signified but instead creating a flow of signifiers.
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