A couple weeks ago Shrikant Bahulkar, an Indian scholar I studied Sanskrit with, gave a talk on language in Buddhism. During the questions and answers he said something that struck me: Tibetan Buddhists gave privilege to Sanskrit texts over Tibetan ones because the Sanskrit texts were more authentic.
He’s surely right, in the sense that Tibetans thought Sanskrit s?tras more likely to be the real word of the historical Buddha. But the wording intrigued me. For we use “authentic” as a term of praise all the time now, but in a strikingly different way.
The Tibetans cared that texts were authentically Indian because the Buddha was Indian, so such texts were more likely to have been the authentic word of the Buddha. They wouldn’t have given a toss whether texts were authentically Mongolian or authentically Persian, because the Buddha didn’t come from those places.
For us, by contrast, authenticity is a good in itself. Other things being equal, we treat blues music performed by an authentic Mississippi blues performer as better than the same music performed by some guy from Vancouver; authentic Mexican food made by Mexicans is better than Mexican food made by Bostonians. I once spoke to a friend’s relatives in Cambridge, UK, who were going to be visiting the US and were excited about going to Disneyland. I asked “Why go all the way – why not just go to Euro Disney?” They replied “No, no – we want to see the real Disneyland!” A startling response at the time to my urban geographer’s ears, to which nothing could be more fake than Disneyland – but even there, the original was valued much more highly than the imitation.
Some of this valuing of authenticity per se creeps into religious studies as well. I’ve spoken of the point before in the context of Yavanayāna Buddhism: it’s a recent creation involving Westerners and therefore seems less “authentically Buddhist,” and “less authentic” is equated in our minds with “bad.” I think this is why the “Protestant presuppositions” charge is bandied about so frequently and comes across as such a slur: the Yavanayāna emphasis on texts, on what seems to be the authentic word of the Buddha, is considered “less authentically Buddhist.”
But the Yavanayāna attitude, ironically, seems to me much closer to traditional attitudes than does this scholarly romanticism of authenticity. Scholars or otherwise, we today value a more generalized authenticity, in which everything should “be what it is.” Whereas for most premodern cultures, as I understand it, authenticity was merely a means to an end. The authentic word of the Buddha was better than an imitation because of the value of the Buddha’s word itself, not because of the value of authenticity per se.
So why this change? It seems above all an aesthetic phenomenon. We see beauty in things that are what they are, that don’t imitate. Why is this? I suggested before that it’s because authenticity is scarce under capitalism. Is that it? Is it because, as I added in the comments, so many of us want to take an oppositional posture against society at large, and so much of that society is satisfied with imitations? Or is there more to it still?
How about this: authenticity is a luxury. Not only under capitalism, as you suggest, but in traditional agrarian/nomadic/monarchic societies as well. I think back about what I said in your earlier post about not caring much for the average ‘Buddhist’ over time. That person had no time for, or ability to demand, ‘authentic’ teachings. He/she needed effective teachings for here and now, be they tantra, pure land, ancestor worship, whatever. For them, who cares if the monk is really a monk or his mantras come from India or Indiana. Perhaps the same is true today with many practitioners (and those who study practitioners) vs scholars and those who study the scholars :)
There’s definitely something to this, although I think it leaves a couple questions unanswered. First, when luxury becomes possible, why is authenticity the luxury of choice, rather than something else? Second, I’m not sure “effectiveness” is the only thing found needful in the hard life of a traditional society. That seems awfully consequentialist of you! ;)
How dare you call me a consequentialist! (j/k)
After your comments in my recent post, I’m still trying to figure out what it would mean *not* to be a consequentialist. Allen Wood even calls Kant a non-deontologist in discussing his Kingdom of Ends formulation of the CI. “Humanity” (morality) is the substantive ends he works toward, through and through.
Anywho, musing on Authenticity, I might say it is an end in itself as an aspect of integrity and moral autonomy. While the effectiveness of inauthentic methods may waver here and there, authentic teachings are those that are consistently effective yet perhaps more difficult to attain (hence a luxury). I’m tempted to use a food analogy, that authentic produce (organic, local, whatever) is a luxury over GMO shiny/sugary non-nutritious produce. Here, authenticity pulls together several factors: health, sustainability, connection with growers, etc in perhaps the same way that authentic teachings to in a tradition.
First point: there’s a difference between being a non-consequentialist and being a non-teleologist (and a deontologist is almost always defined as the latter). On this you should read J. David Velleman’s 1999 Ethics article “Love as a moral emotion” (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/233898). Key distinction there is between aims (or goals) and ends (or purposes). Velleman’s non-consequentialist position takes sentient and/or rational beings as an end in themselves (a telos of sorts) without actually having any beneficial consequences for them as a goal. (Example: you visit your dead mother’s grave for her sake even though it has no beneficial consequences for her.)
Kant on this reading is teleological, not deontological. Others (like Barbara Herman in her chapter “Leaving deontology behind”) argue the same thing about him; it’s increasingly common (and I think correct) to view Kant in that way, as Wood does. Being a true deontologist is difficult indeed, because it requires one’s action to be literally pointless – if you have no telos, your action has no purpose. The only real deontologists would seem to be so in a relatively limited sphere of life – notably Rawlsian justice, which attempts to be neutral toward ends in a way that a Kantian ethics absolutely does not.
But back to authenticity. I’m really doubting effectiveness as a standard here. Consider someone seeking therapeutic aid from a psychoanalyst in the Freudian tradition. Someone who adheres to the substance of all Freud’s teachings would seem to be more authentically Freudian; but someone who has taken the ensuing seventy years of psychological research into account would likely be far more effective.
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great discussion. I wondering if there might be different types of authenticity at play here, along the lines of Thomas Kasulis’ intimacy vs integrity heuristic? For instance, the “origin”-oriented revisionism of Stephen Batchelor seems more offensive to me than some triumphalist Mahayan text because he is aimed at an objective, universal truth in a different way than his pre-modern Buddhist forbears, because of how he (and we) conceive of knowledge along those lines. While the pre-modern Buddhists might have said worse things about their forbears than Batchelor does (explicitly), they at least had the courtesy to say that the Buddha taught them lesser vehicles for a good reason, and that it still helped them, even if they were slow-witted. The anti-“cultural-baggage” stance of someone like Batchelor, among many others, seems more disrespectful in its utter dismissal, and therefore, I’m afraid, does seem rather arrogant. (fyi, I haven’t read his book, but I saw him speak about it in the fall and was pretty dumbfounded. I like much of his work, but as I think I ranted on Justin’s blog at some point, I think the notion he seems to have of an original un-culturally-conditioned Buddhism in text form is utter bunk that just gets in the way of smart people like yourselves and Stephen doing valuable new Buddhist philosophy and/or theology.)
Thanks for the kind words, Andrew. I haven’t read Batchelor’s book either, so there’s only so much I can say. I do think it’s important to acknowledge that most premodern Buddhists aimed at an objective, universal truth as well, though – as you note – they acknowledged that not everyone will get there and some need different teachings as a result. On the other hand, we must ask what reason we have to believe that the historical Buddha actually found that truth. Historically speaking, it would seem that he was as culturally conditioned as anybody else was (especially noticeable when we hear the things he is claimed to have said about women). If we have reason to believe he saw further than most, it’s mainly because of the testimony of thousands of years of later, also culturally conditioned, tradition.
that’s a good point, Amod, and I guess my only honest answer would be that his truth included a path that doesn’t seem to restrict the truth accessed to the context of a given time and place, which puts me back on my practice horse–the fruits of my own practice of it have shown it to be worthwhile thus far in my own context of cultural conditions, given some entirely necessary adaptation that is little different from what has gone on in those thousands of years of tradition, as far as I am concerned.
Interesting discussion — although as a practitioner and not a scholar, I am not sure I follow all of it.
Buddhism has respect for pandits as well as practitioners, but even the pandits acknowledge that philosophy and theory is inherently dualistic and, while helpful on the path, will never result in realization. Similarly, practice without study and engaging of the intellect is highly unlikely to result in progress — like trying to hit a target with a bow and arrow in a room with no light.
I would define authenticity as truth. This, think, is in line with Tibetan thought that terma lineages are fresh and closer to the source than kama lineages.
What is really interesting is the Western approach to Buddhist studies that assumes that a person not on a path (i.e. not a practioner in any sense — even a Catholic or a Protestant practitioner) can study Buddhism to any good end. And, in fact, that practitioners are not “objective” and, therefore, biased and not qualified to sit in a Buddhist Studies chair in a university! This approach leads to an entirely pointless study of a dead religion about an historical person who is long gone.
Buddhism is much more interesting than that.
Welcome to the blog, Jim! I wonder whether there is really such a thing as a person not on a path. Even if one doesn’t engage in the practices we normally call spiritual – meditation, prayer, monasticism – there is still a path to be practised in everyday life. And it is a very difficult one to practise well. This is a lesson that I think is found in both Aristotle and Confucius. The more important question, I think, is whether academic Buddhologists’ studies contribute to this practice. In many cases, alas, I suspect it doesn’t.
I think you hit on something really important in defining authenticity as truth. The question is, what kind of truth, and what is its meaning? I imagine white supremacists isolating themselves in militant compounds might be the truest, most authentic white supremacists, as opposed to someone like David Duke who makes compromises in order to enter mainstream politics. This is fitting both with the modern definition of authenticity, and with the idea of authenticity as truth – yet this authenticity seems something bad.
I neglected to say how much I enjoyed your blog. It is very interesting. And we are neighbors in the Boston area, as well.
There are certainly people who are not on a path (at least according to Buddhists). These are worldly people who believe that freedom is following their prevailing thoughts and emotions. If I recall, the texts analogize to a person tied on the back of a blind donkey. So, maybe we could postulate that a path requires (i) intelligence and self-reflection, and (ii) moral choice to direct life in a way that is independent of karma (habit). A person on a Christian path would use different words — maybe direct life in accordance with God’s will rather than selfishness.
I also think that it is very helpful, if not essential, to align oneself with a tradition or lineage. Otherwise, we are like person trying to build a church without training in architecture or masonry — or a scientist who rejects the need to study scientific discoveries of the past.
Your last comment I think is very interesting. I would agree with you regarding relative truth. I think there may even be a dharma (small “d”) of the KKK. However, ultimate truth is not debatable. It is simply true in the way that fire is warm and water is wet. And this truth is “good” in a sense of good that is beyond good and bad. Ultimate truth is only realized through practice. Ultimate truth is beyond subject and object duality — so it is beyond thought as well as beyond words (as is said in the prajnaparamita sutra “beyond speech or thought”). But it is possible, in a limited way, to discuss it.
Bad in the relative sense results when a person reacts to an experience of ultimate truth with cowardice — fear and emotions that solidify and seek to protect the sense of self (either aggression — seeking to destroy threats to self, desire — seeking to draw in and enhance conditions that reinforce the sense of a solid self, or ignorance — habitual distraction — as when you are embarrassed and reflexively avert your eyes from meeting another’s gaze). Of course, the momentary experience of these emotions as thoughts is not what is normally thought of as “bad”. But when aggression, for example, is fed and nurtured and moves from thought to speech to action, it results in murders and wars and becomes a great source of suffering.
Good, in the relative sense, is similarly a reaction to ultimate truth — but one that is not based on a reified sense of self. It is action, still based on a sense of a doer of action and an object, but action for the benefit of both self and others. The relative paramitas of generosity, etc. are examples of “good” actions.
At least this is my best understanding — of what has been explained better elsewhere by realized teachers.