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AAR, David Loy, Engaged Buddhism, Grace Kao, Jacques Maritain, natural environment, rights, Rosemary Radford Ruether, Universal Declaration of Human Rights
The online Journal of Buddhist Ethics has recently begun an online conference on an interesting pair of articles dealing with Buddhism and the natural environment, by David Loy and my former grad-school colleague Grace Kao. (Both articles were originally presented at the 2010 AAR conference in Atlanta.) While the conference is oriented toward comments on the JBE website, I’m posting my response here because my thoughts are long enough to be a full blog post of their own.
The different backgrounds of the two writers are evident from their pieces – but that itself makes the dialogue between them more interesting and fruitful. Loy is writing as a Buddhist. In a sense Loy’s arguments come in two pieces: first a dialectical argument to a certain conception of Buddhist first principles, especially based on the idea of non-self, and then a demonstrative argument from those principles to a sense of environmental concern. The first section makes the article more than a piece of “Buddhist theology”; unlike Glenn Wallis’s manifesto, Loy’s article is written as if it is intended to persuade non-Buddhists to a Buddhist point of view.
The substance of Loy’s demonstrative argument is similar to one that I have criticized in the past: that Buddhism is environment-friendly because it tells us to acknowledge our interdependence with other life on the planet. Loy’s argument is a bit more sophisticated than the view I criticized, and might arguably stand up to some of those criticisms. But I’m not going to focus on that point here. Rather, I’m more interested in the dialogue between Loy and Kao, and its implications.
Kao is not a Buddhist nor a Buddhologist, but a scholar of cultural diversity and the issues it poses for global politics. Partially for that reason, Kao’s article does relatively little to engage Loy’s Buddhist claims directly. Instead, she raises interesting and important questions about the proper connection between cross-cultural philosophy and global politics.
While Kao doesn’t say whether she has been convinced by Loy’s dialectical arguments for non-self, it seems unlikely that she has; if she were, it would have serious implications for the opening section of her article, where she continues to identify as a Christian and not a Buddhist. As I understand her article, this raises the question, for Kao, of what to do with the demonstrative (“practical and political”) arguments when she is not persuaded by the dialectical (“conceptual and metaphysical”) arguments.
One might think that the answer should be nothing: if you don’t agree with the principles and premises of an argument, why would you care about its conclusion? But, Kao is right to point out, this is not how things work in global politics. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights was crafted specifically as an attempt to find common ground at a more pragmatic level, among people who did not share metaphysical first principles. Jacques Maritain, a Catholic thinker involved in the early stages of planning that document, was convinced that even people of “violently opposed ideologies” could agree on a list of basic human rights — “only on condition that no one asks us why.” This point is telling. Maritain was convinced that his Catholic path of justifying human rights was the only one “with a firm foundation in truth.” But as it turns out, other people happened to believe in the same rights, though their belief was based on what Maritain would likely consider falsehoods. One “agrees to disagree” on the foundations, and works together on pressing practical issues.
Kao rightly interprets Loy’s perspective as being far from Maritain’s. Loy’s article implies that an understanding of self more like the Buddhist one “points the way to” solving the ecological crisis. Kao responds with what I think is a correct (and Maritainian) pragmatic assessment of the situation:
any environmentalism that is conditional upon human civilization becoming “awakened” from its illusory worldviews is going have to wait a dreadfully long time before becoming actualized, if ever. For however ultimately false the socially-constructed distinctions between selves and others, egoism and altruism, and nature and culture are or may be, these ways of thinking are firmly entrenched and dominant today. On this side of (spiritual or secular) nirvāṇa, then, I submit that environmental campaigns will stand a greater chance of success if they strategically work within those paradigms, even if by appealing directly to people’s selfish desires and “illusory” assumptions, than if they insist upon first trying to liberate us all from them.
I suspect that Loy would in fact agree with this claim. For his article is not a practical piece about the most efficacious methods of convincing others to solve environmental problems; it is a philosophical argument for why we should be trying to solve those problems in the first place. In Maritain’s terms, Loy is trying to find an environmental worldview that has a “firm foundation in truth.” And, while I tend to disagree with the particulars of Loy’s approach, I do think it is in many respects the right approach to take.
For when one attempts to find common ground – whether on human rights, environmental issues or any others – without finding common ground in metaphysics or first principles, that common ground is and must invariably be superficial. In the battlefields that constitute politics, superficiality may well be perfectly appropriate. The point here is similar to my recent discussion of doubt and certainty: one cannot wait to establish the truth, individually or collectively, before one acts. There is not enough time for that. In the short term, one must simply act as best one can, and pragmatic acts of superficial compromise may well be the best acts available.
Such compromises are nevertheless a second-best approach. For they are mere shifting alliances, an attempt to exercise power without getting to the truth of the matter. Kao closes her article with an approving quote of feminist theologian Rosemary Radford Ruether to this effect: ““an ecological crisis of global proportions can mean nothing less than a true dialogue and mutual enrichment of all spiritual traditions.” But such dialogue and enrichment is exactly what is denied by a focus on political compromise. One doesn’t learn anything of substance from the other tradition, for (given the urgency of the impending crisis) one doesn’t bother taking its arguments seriously and sorting through them. True dialogue and mutual enrichment are all about an understanding that is deep rather than superficial, one that “asks why” in a way that goes against the Maritainian compromise.
Moreover, the Journal of Buddhist Ethics, the American Academy of Religion and this blog are not intended as fora for pragmatic political compromises. Their influence on global politics is slight enough that they make extremely poor places for such compromises. Rather, they are fora for scholarly discussion and thought. As such, what they do best is go deeper, attempt to establish what is genuinely true and what is false.
Buddhists probably feel themselves to be over determined in the matter of care for the planet drifting as they do on the high plain of interdependence. Others would ask ‘cui bono’ as a question particularly pointed at the anatma doctrine. Personally I’m with Maritain and Kao, let’s forget about the metaphysical underpinnings and just walk the earth with a light step because it makes sense. Here the utilitarian and eudaemonistic rules of thumb are the touchstones of sound action. However I’m less than sanguine about politicians being able to take the long view that is necessary to counter global warming as their perspective generally extends to the next election. I fear that realistically they will require evidence that is so overwhelmingly clear that it will be already too late to do much.
Yes, that’s the problem. One must do the best one can despite doubt – not assume that the burden of proof is on the positive claimant, which is to say on what’s inconvenient for polluters.
The burden of proof should be set based on (i) likelihood of the existence of a problem (in this case global warming), and (ii) magnitude of the problem if, in fact, it exists.
It may be unlikely that I will drop a beaker of liquid as I walk across a room. But how much attention I pay to the risk depends upon whether the beaker is filled with water or nitroglycerin. I would argue based on this two part analysis that climate scientists have more than met their burden of proof to justify aggressive political action.
The lack of political will on this issue in part may be based on the short term view of electoral politics (as Michael points out). But I think the bigger reason is that this is a “tragedy of the commons” issue. No one nation or person can solve the problem and none can be incentivized to sacrifice unless others agree and the problem can be solved.
In that sense, a Buddhist (or Christian or humanist) perspective based on putting others first — “treading lightly” as Michael puts it — can only help. This is because sacrifice for others and benefit to others is seen as the goal — rather than the goal solely being success in eliminating risk for oneself. If the focus is on care for others, then that is achieveable — one will not mind as much sacrificing in an international treaty where others (say, people in Bangladesh facing rising waters or people in China burning dirtier fossil fuels) benefit disproportionately.
From the Buddhist point of view, the altruistic approach is just simple logic based on the fact we are all like melting ice cubes anyway and inextricably tied in with everyone else on the planet. It’s not even really an altruistic approach — as Shantideva said, happiness comes from caring for others and suffering comes from thinking and acting from a selfish viewpoint.
Mr. Wilton,
Are there limits or boundaries to “interdependence”? Are you saying that everything is interdependent on everything?
How are you “inextricably tied in” with me? I am not aware of any kind of a “tie” binding us. How are you “inextricably tied in” with a death squad member in Colombia?
If you don’t mind another question, would you acknowledge that in some cases “caring for others” can also produce suffering for oneself and others and that “thinking and acting from a selfish viewpoint” can also produce happiness for oneself and others?
Thanks!
Plants on earth depend on sunlight, but the Sun does not depend on those plants.
Effects are dependent on causes, but not vice-versa.
Hence, it is false that everything is dependent on everything.
The Buddhist denial of Svabhava and essence is at odds with the science of ecology. If things are “empty”, what is there to preserve? If things are “empty”, what difference does it make whether something is preserved or destroyed?
The Buddhist doctrine of emptiness also undermines the deep-ecological notion of the intrinsic value of nature.
Thanks for your comments, Jabali108, and welcome to the blog. Good points.
Interdependence can be understood intellectually in different ways. At its base, interdependence is the notion that everything that can be conceived of is a composite. To take an example, what we call a wagon is composed of four wheels, a chassis and maybe some other parts. If you take some parts away, it becomes a broken wagon, then wagon parts, then something else not identifiable as a wagon. And even when it is sawdust, the particles of dust have a left side and a right side. Nothing exists independently.
Even abstract concepts are interdependent. The concept of “wagon” depends on everything in the world that is “not wagon”. Our understanding of “wagon” depends and evolves based on our experience of things that are other than that. So, for someone who has seen an automobile, the concept of “wagon” changes and wagon is interdependent with the concept of automobile.
Our concepts of the world overlay our experience in the way that dead skin dulls our sense of touch. The actual phenomena that we call “wagon” is unique, beyond conception and “empty” (in the Buddhist sense of the word — not the nihilistic sense that Thill uses below to denegrate the Buddhist concept). For a Buddhist to say that something is “empty” is the same as to say that it exists interdependently in the presnet moment.
There is also the understanding of karma or inderdependent origination. This is the concept that everything that can be conceived of arises from causes and conditions. So an apple tree is interdependent because it originates from an apple seed as a primary cause and sunlight and water and the fact that frost has not killed the seed and an animal has not eaten the young sprout and innumerable other serendiptidous events (each of which thenselves arise from innumerable other events).
Your second question is the “tie” that binds you to everything else. I think there is a tie to a Columbian death squad in that we live in the world and the ripples of events in Columbia affect your mind thousand of miles away (evoking anger or a fierce resolve to help or avoidance of the painful thought). Our minds are constantly evolving and being influenced and influencing our world. But the interesting thing is — I don’t believe that Buddhism conceives of interdependence as a limitation. Karma has no sense of predestination. Karma views interdependent events as having led us to the present moment (predestination takes us at least that far). Beyond that, karma ensures that events follow logically — an apple seed will not grow into a cherry tree. But the present moment is malleable and what we do changes the future — changes karma. So the future is wide open (except to the extent we are slaves of habit and asleep).
Your last question is a good one. Of course, there is always pleasure and pain. The suffering that Buddhists focus on as the path is something broader than that. Everyone wants to increase pleasure and push away pain — that is the conventional approach (the third conventional approach is to ignore our experiences and daydream or sleep). But none of these approaches work very long or very well. Because everything changes, pleasure (whether it is based on physical pleasure, status in society, pride in intellectual achievement — whatever) does not last. Furthermore, even in a moment of intense pleasure — if you look closely there is a slight hollow feeling or a slight uneasiness. That is dukkha or suffering.
By contrast, the joy that is experienced when you give something away that genuinely benefits someone else is a different experience entirely. Particularly if the gift has no strings attached, it is a source of real happiness. Of course, you may experience some inconvenience as a result of the gift — but if you truly put others first, it can seem more like a minor inconvenience. It is not that you have to empty your bank account or throw yourself in traffic. There is more intelligence to the approach than that.
The starting point is a change in view. Then it takes a lot of training to shape your mind to gradually become less self-centered. And it can have great benefits (for yourself and others).
Thill and I disagree all of the time on these points. You ultimately have to decide for yourself. From my point of view, Thill bases his argument on a fundamental assumption of the existence and separateness of phenomena — and, particularly, that our world exists independent of our experience of it. I haven’t heard how Thill establishes who experiences this world that is entirely external to our experience (since he also doesn’t believe in a god or omniscient being). But that doesn’t seem to bother Thill.
“not the nihilistic sense that Thill uses”
Jim, even to disagree meaningfully we really have to agree on what we are talking about since we don’t have the luxury of an eternal life to carry on an interminable discussion. As I pointed out a few times in past responses, the idea of dependence or interdependence is not identical to the idea of “emptiness”. “Interdependence” and “emptiness” are not synonyms in English!
In Buddhism, interdependence is the basis for asserting the “emptiness” of things, i.e., things do not have any inherent nature, essence, or enduring identity.
“Thill bases his argument on a fundamental assumption of the existence and separateness of phenomena — and, particularly, that our world exists independent of our experience of it. I haven’t heard how Thill establishes who experiences this world that is entirely external to our experience..”
It is height of human arrogance and folly to think that the existence of things depend on our cognition of them! As I remarked in an earlier response, this sort of idealism is just anthropocentrism gone mad!
It is a scientifically established truth that any form of consciousness in our universe (the animal and human forms of consciousness are the only ones we know of at this time) has only appeared recently and that aeons have passed in the universe and on earth without any conscious observers.
Common sense also shows that the existence of objects is not dependent on our awareness of them.
When you turn your back on the stove, the dish you were cooking doesn’t cease to exist!
The equation of emptiness with interdependence comes on good authority. Nagarjuna in The Fundamental Wisdom of the Middle Way says:
Whatever is dependently arisen
Is explained to be emptiness.
Now, I know that you don’t accept Nagarjuna as authority (nor should you). I just mention him so you know I am not making it up.
But, you understand the logic yourself (at least the argument (whether or not you agree with it). Emptiness, however, is not really graspable by logic. It is the experience of “things” (a mountain, a wisp of smoke, a piece of wheat toast) being coincidental events based on the coming together of causes and conditions such that they are not solid or graspable even in a single moment. But the concept isn’t emptiness either. In other words, emptiness is not non-existence because non-existence is also interdependent and depends on a concept of existence.
And I wasn’t saying that the existence of things depends on our cognition of them. Because you say that is the reason why I say that you have a fundamental belief in the existence and separateness of phenomena. I would say that things don’t exist (and they don’t not exist). That is emptiness (understood in a conceptual way).
All of this suddenly seems to me similar to Amod’s debate on doubt and certainty. Doubt in a non-territorial way that isn’t trying to establish non-existence seems something like the concept of emptiness. On the other hand, thing appear — and there seems to be some certainty about that.
“Whatever is dependently arisen
Is explained to be emptiness.”
“Is explained to be emptiness” is certainly consistent with the idea that “is dependently arisen” is the reason (logical or illogical!) for saying it is “emptiness”.
Thill and Jim, what are you guys talking about?
How can the statement that “Plants depend on soil, sunlight, and water.” be by any stretch of language, logic, rationality, sense, common sense etc., a “reason” for declaring, no doubt with an air of profundity, that “Plants are empty.”?
It should go without saying that I cannot make any sense whatsoever of the claim that the fact that plants depend on soil, sunshine, and water is to be “explained as emptiness” or that “egolessness” another way of understanding the dependence of plants on soil, sunshine, and water!
What sense is there in saying in this context that plants are “empty” or worse “egoless”?
I am reminded of the famous Carvaka analogy between the croaking of frogs and the utterances of the Vedic priests!
Well, Neocarvaka, as the great Saraha (I’ve admired Saraha since my youth.)put it:
Some think it’s
in the realm of space,
others connect it
with emptiness:
mostly, they dwell
in contradiction.
A commentator (Jackson) on this verse observes that:
“The critical remarks directed here at those who think “it” (i.e., reality) is connected with emptiness presumably are meant to correct a one-sided obsession with negation, which is one of Saraha’s major targets.”
Ah, Saraha! The man who justly poured scorn on Budddhist, Jain, and Hindu monasticism and asceticism!
Although there is much more than meets the eye and the mind in Saraha’s line (in one of his Dohakosa) “There is no other sacred place that can compare with your body.”, a Carvaka can surely agree!
“At its base, interdependence is the notion that everything that can be conceived of is a composite.”
Thanks for your detailed response. An earlier response of mine didn’t go through. Why do you identify “interdependence” with “composite” or having parts? Couldn’t two simple entities which by definition don’t have parts be dependent on each other?
The relation of parts which constitute a complex entity is certainly one of interdependence, but I don’t see how “interdependence” and “having parts” are identical or interchangeable.
Jabali, sorry your responses didn’t go through at first. The earlier one is below – I can delete it if it’s redundant now. I need to manually approve comments by new posters to make sure they’re not spammers – the blog gets a lot of comment spam. Normally I wouldn’t have had to manually approve your first post since you had already posted above successfully (the Dec 14 one above), but you gave a slightly different email address for these two posts than for that one.
Thanks, Mr. Wilton and Thill, for your responses.
Mr. Wilton, when you write that “At its base, interdependence is the notion that everything that can be conceived of is a composite.”, I wonder if you are interpreting “interdependence” in an unusual way.
“Interdependence” implies that we have in mind two or more things which depend on each other. To say that A and B are interdependent is to say that they are dependent on each other. However, you are using “interdependence” to mean “composite” or “complex”.
In your unusual sense of “interdependence”, the concept need only refer to one thing since any given thing can be complex or composite. Does it really make sense to use “interdependence” in this sense and conflate it with “composite” or “complex”? Or do you intend to say that “interdependence” can only hold between or among complex things? This would still require that we distinguish “interdependence” and “composite” or “complex”.
The trouble with restricting discussion of interdependence to two “things” is that the discussion assumes the existence of the two things. The concepts of interdependence and egolessness (Buddhist teachings speak of two fold egolessness — egolessness of self and egolessness or other) are linked concepts. If one thing depends on another, it does not exist in a permanent way.
Egolessness or emptiness is another way of understanding interdependence.
Mr. Wilton, isn’t the existence of at least two things required to make sense of the concept of dependence or interdependence? Whether those things are permanent or impermanent is irrelevant to the issue.
The trouble is that we have to use language and language is based on concepts of “this” and “that”.
To say that “this” is dependent on “that” is a way of using language to say that the concepts themselves are intertwined and the experience that is described by the concept has no real solid independent existence.
So, the answer to your question is yes. When we are dealing with relative truth, interdependence is a way of understanding or “making sense of” emptiness or shunyata in a conceptual way. It is coming from the point of view of assuming the separate existence of “this” and “that” — but points at the limits of this conceptual understanding.
There is also direct experience of shunyata, but that experience is described as being “beyond speech or thought”. When shunyata is spoken of, it is mostly addressed through saying what it is not (i.e. it is not “this” and it is not “that”, we don’t “exist” and we don’t “not exist”, etc.) — but it is beyond logic.
At least this is my understanding.
“There is also direct experience of shunyata, but that experience is described as being “beyond speech or thought”.”
If it is “beyond speech or thought”, how does one know or identify it as “direct experience of sunyata”? Obviously, the question “How then can you even describe it as an experience of shunyata?” also arises.
I go back to the traditional metaphor of the mind as a lamp — it is self illuminating or self knowing rather than a source of light shining on an eternal object. So, in that sense, you are correct that “experience of shunyata” implies a separation between and “experiencer” and an “experience” and is therefore inaccurate. But we all tend to grasp onto meditation experiences — without necessarily realizing that with the grasping the experience becomes conceptualized and inaccurate.
That is why genuine meditation masters downplay mediation “experiences” and value wisdom or insight. The Tibetans (who tend to be somewhat earthy) have a saying i very much like on this point: “If you eat, you will shit; if you mediate, you will have mediation experiences.”
“mind as a lamp – it is self illuminating or self knowing rather than a source of light shining on an eternal object.”
A lamp also makes visible or clear any objects in its vicinity! You are arbitrarily restricting the powers of the mind to suit your Buddhist beliefs. It is obvious that “the mind” knows that our sentences on this blog are in English. It is also obvious that “the mind” illuminated the object by means of which we were typing these sentences on this blog, viz., a keyboard. Again, whether or not the object of knowledge is eternal or impermanent is irrelevant. Why this recurrent non sequitur in “the mind” in the form of “reasoning” from “The object is not eternal.” to “The object cannot be known”?
With conceptual, dualistic mind (sems) we are always solidifying our world into categories of “this” and “that”. And the divisions we make to divide the world into separate objects are always fuzzy and uncertain around the edges. For example, we have an object that we call a “dog” and that we have some relationship or attachment to. Does our concept of “dog” include the dog’s fur? The dog has no nerve endings in the fur and doesn’t feel it when it is sheared off. Is it still the “dog”? If the fur has been sheared fron the dog and is lying on the floor next to the dog, is it still the dog? How about loose fur that the dog is shedding? Is food in the dog’s digestive tract part of the “dog”? How about microbes that spend their lifetimes in the dog’s disgestive tract and die if they leave the “world” of the dog’s gut?
What we really have is a useful construct or conceptual overlay on the world that we call a “dog”. But it is a mistake to view that concept as describing an object that has solid existence.
I have to also respectfully disagree that whether an object is eternal or impermanent is irrelevant. You are positing the “existence” of an object that is not permanent. But if you look at any impermanent object, whether that object is a wisp of smoke or a mountain, the object is so constantly in flux and changing that the experience of that object has no solidity. What seems permanent is the concept of the object — the overlay that our conceptual mind creates on our experience. And that concept is a fabrication — examined closely, it is a very rapid flickering of our mind between our present experience, our memory of the “object” and our personal memories and learned knowledge of similar “objects”.
On top of this, our memory and concepts are also impermanent and in flux. Our concept of “dog” evolves as we meet new experiences, read books and live our lives. So even our fabricated world of concepts is not a solid thing.
This is a conceptual view of what we think of as “emptiness”. But we have to bear in mind that the idea of a world that exists apart from concepts is also a concept. And this is where the logical, conceptual mind begins to struggle in understanding our experience — and why “emptiness” is beyond speech or thought.
Jim, you have inverted the truth. It is our perceptions, experiences, feelings, etc., pertaining to an object which are impermanent, although they have aspects or elements which are consistent and stable over time due to the nature of those objects, e.g., red hot iron always burns when touched! Many objects in the world will endure and outlive us!
I also wonder if you are aware of your equivocation on “emptiness”? You have consistently maintained that “emptiness” means “interdependence”. Now I am aware of the Buddhist doctrine of dependent origination, but I don’t know how this turned into the thesis of “interdependence” in some minds.
We can see and understand dependent origination, but what sense, if any, can we make of “interdependent origination”? Of course, there are relations of interdependence among many things in the world, but no such thing as “interdependent origination”.
Getting back to my charge of equivocation, since you hold that “emptiness” means “interdependence”, you must agree that “direct experience of emptiness” is nothing more or less than “direct experience of interdependence”.
But if we have examples of relations of interdependence among things in the world, what more do we need by way of “direct experience of emptiness”?
This is where your equivocation begins to reveal itself. You now shift and begin to use “emptiness” to mean something like the “Great Void” which some Buddhist schools identify with ultimate reality. In terms of this different sense of “emptiness”, you may speak of “direct experience” or “indirect experience”.
Our “self”, our perceptions and the “objects” of our perceptions are all impermanent and neither existent nor non-existent. In fact, they aren’t even inpermanent, because impermanence requires a permanent reference point.
I used interdependence and dependent origination interchangeably. If you have thoughts on a distinction between the two terms, I would be interested to hear them.
One distinction might be to view dependent origination as being an historic event and interdependence as being descriptive of an ongoing relationship. However, I am not sure that this is a helpful distinction. In a real sense, “objects” arise in each moment with our perception of them. To go back in “time” to the point of “origination” would therefore require a reflection into the past that is essentially the same sense of the past that it would take to form a concept of interdependence. To me the terms are interchangeable. But I may be missing a meaningful distinction.
The equivocation that you see may be a function of trying to explain emptiness in conceptual terms. Emptiness is certainly not a “great void”; it is also not a god or a “thing”. It is inseparable from what appears. Objects do not “exist” and they do not “not-exist”.
Emptiness is the taste of a banana — beyond understaning by logic, beyond thought and indescrobable. And by “taste of a banana”, I do not mean the thought of the taste of a banana. If you are approaching this logically, you will think that when I say that the “taste of a banana is beyond thought” and in the next sentence when I refer to the “thought of the taste of a banana”, I am contadicting myself. But I am not. The thought is an experience that is entirely different than the taste of a banana. And the experience of the thought of a banana is also empty and beyond thought or description.
“Emptiness is the taste of a banana”
Jim, I doubt that you can surpass this! I hope it makes it into a collection famous sayings.
So, now emptiness is just a sensory experience?
“You are positing the “existence” of an object that is not permanent. But if you look at any impermanent object, whether that object is a wisp of smoke or a mountain, the object is so constantly in flux and changing that the experience of that object has no solidity.”
Does this correspond even remotely to your actual experience of objects? Is the computer screen on which you type these words so awfully in flux as you mis(describe) it? If so, how do you manage to type anything at all or review what you have typed? Even clouds have a greater relative stability than the objects you (mis)describe.
Yes. What I have said corresponds very precisely to my conceptual understanding of the world.
My computer screen is very much in flux — it is likely to be in a landfill somewhere in 10 years. Even now, it is giving off heat and changing slowly. However, it is possible for this changing thing that is “me” to interact with the changing computer screen that is “other”. The fact that the “other” in changing slowly does not mean that “other” exists. In fact, I would say that if you honestly tried to identify the quality in the computer screen that exists in any solid or permanent way, you would not be able to do so.
This is true not only because of change (which we likely all can agree on), but because the computer screen only “exists” in relation to something that is not a computer screen and that relationship has no solidity or permanence even in a single moment. In fact, the concept of a “single moment” is itself a conceptual overlay on our experience.
Another way to look at this is that the concepts of “existence” and “non-existence” require some analysis. They may be useful concepts in a relative sense, but tend to fall apart with analysis.
“The fact that the “other” is changing slowly does not mean that “other” exists.”
I guess in “Buddhlish” even if something doesn’t exist at all, we can still say that it is changing! I read in some “sacred scripture of the East”, or perhaps heard it from an “enlightened master”, that the horn of a unicorn is subject to the fastest change in the universe! LOL
“the computer screen only “exists” in relation to something that is not a computer screen and that relationship has no solidity or permanence even in a single moment.”
Why do you put “exists” within quotes? Are there two forms of existence, one which we indicate by using the word for it in quotes and another without quotes. This is an abuse of language.
So, the computer screen exists only relative to….what?
Are we back to anthropocentrism gone awry?
I put “exists” in quotes because it is one-half of a dualistic pair: existence / non-existence. When we use language to speak about reality, we have to use words. But the quotes are intended to highlight that the word is not adequate to describe _____.
“I put “exists” in quotes because it is one-half of a dualistic pair: existence / non-existence.”
What? Are you going to put all the words which have antonyms in quotes? “Light”, “good”, “Right”, “dependence”, “interdependence”, and so on?
This can only make “Buddhlish” very popular with postmodernists!