I have noted that those modern Westerners who learn from South Asian philosophy are usually looking for Ascent while those who learn from East Asian are usually looking for intimacy. Given that my own doctorate was specialized in South Asia, with little East Asian component despite my eventual focus on Buddhism, you might easily guess what my own orientation has been on this score – and you’d be right. I’ve often insisted on correcting those who portray Buddhism as an intimacy-oriented tradition – not just to set the historical record straight, but because I think it’s important to emphasize the value of integrity. When I was thinking in terms of three ways of life, the integrity-oriented “ascetic” and “libertine” approaches, for all their contrasts with each other, both appealed to me far more than the intimacy-oriented “traditionalism”.
But then in recent months and years I’ve been reading significantly more East Asian thought myself – and I’ve also been a bit startled to find myself leaning more toward an intimacy orientation. No doubt the East Asian readings have been part of this, but they’re not the only thing. My first wife had a very strong integrity orientation, where now my wife leans much more strongly to intimacy. Also important has been seeing more of my adorable five-year-old nephew and nieces, who help me appreciate the joys associated with having children (without any of the work!)
While those matters of personal autobiography are important to me, they are less important to a philosophy blog and its readers. More relevant here, I have also started to notice more clearly the reasons why an intimacy orientation to life is important and valuable. As I’ve been writing this post, the number of backlinks to previous posts makes me realize that it’s a realization I’ve been coming to for quite a while.
The reasons in question are above all the ones I began to discuss last week. Above all, it seems to me, an integrity approach lends itself strongly to maximizing, and an intimacy approach to satisficing, and the latter makes one happier.
The point ties deeply to the paradoxes of hedonism. For one of the most common forms of integrity viewpoint has to do with the maximizing of happiness – the hallmark of utilitarianism. But it has been my experience that striving to maximize happiness is often counterproductive. One strives for the external goods associated with happiness, and even to perfect the virtues associated with it, but in that very striving can be found dissatisfaction, discontent, unhappiness – a hatred of the way things are now, hating the real world. For me this is an insight key to East Asian tradition, namely sudden liberation: at some point, one must forget about the striving to be happy or even to be virtuous, and just be happy and virtuous. Julia Annas plausibly sees this wise view in ancient Greek ethics as well.
Where one usually does not find this deemphasis on striving is in the integrity viewpoint of modern analytical ethics, where consequentialism – maximizing by definition – is highly valued. Those consequentialists who notice the paradox of hedonism, like Peter Railton, often offer ways out of it that seem quite unconvincing to me. By contrast, the other main stream of analytical ethics – quasi-Kantian “deontology” – deems happiness unimportant. It is no coincidence to me that both streams are highly mathematical, consequentialism in the obvious way of adding up beneficial consequences (going back to Bentham’s hedonic calculus), deontology in the subtler form of Boolean logic (is it permissible? yes or no.) John Rawls is one of the most successful in combining the two – his political theory sets categorical limits on what is permissible, then maximizes within those limits – and often the first thing one notices in reading his major work is how full it is of diagrams. This emphasis on mathematics and formal logic is central to an integrity approach; it may not be a coincidence in that regard that Julia Annas begins her history of Greek ethics with the more intimacy-oriented Aristotle rather than the integrity-oriented Plato (whose academy is said to have been signed “let no one inept at geometry enter”).
Now I don’t believe that happiness – understood as inner contentment, long-term stable pleasure – is the sole purpose of life; it might not even be the main one. It’s very important, for sure. But it’s also important to be able to think beyond happiness, and examine intimacy and integrity from a wider perspective. I hope to say more about these matters next week.
JimWilton said:
I don’t think that sudden enlightenment (realization) and cultivation of virtue are inconsistent.
In an analogous situation, I was watching an NPR program today about science. The program discussed how the history of science is full of eureka moments — but how, on examination, these moments all have antecedents — often years of long, hard work. I think the spiritual path is much the same way.
It seems to me that there are glimpses of enlightenment or resonances that inspire the path as well. These encourage the work that needs to be done to deal with habit (or karma) that then permits further insight or realization.
Amod Lele said:
I agree with you, they are not incompatible, but I think there is a tension between them, one that has to do with overthinking. When you’re striving to be happier or more virtuous, it leads you to think more about how to be happier and more virtuous, which is an important part of the path – but sometimes those very thoughts can be a distraction from actually being happier and more virtuous in the moment. While I’m thinking “how do I make this good moment really count towards happiness?”, I am not letting it count toward happiness.
A mentor, prepping me for academic flyout interviews, once said “Prepare, prepare, prepare, and when you get there, have fun.” I think this can be generalized. Virtuous and happy actions need to be in some sense spontaneous, but it is the spontaneity of a jazz musician, made possible by years of training to get the right kind of spontaneity. If you just let yourself be in the moment from the very beginning, the number of good moments you have will be very few. I guess this is why I see the East Asians as having figured this point out, before the Buddhists get there – spontaneity is a key virtue for the Daoists, but it also seems there in the ideal of 70-year-old Confucius, “able to follow my heart without overstepping the line” after a lifetime of self-cultivation.
I don’t think I’m disagreeing with anything you’ve said here, just trying to fill in the other side of the equation – the ways in which sudden and gradual liberation can interfere with each other if we’re not careful.
elisa freschi said:
Amod, just two off-the-point thoughts:
1. I myself think that categorizations are useful and unavoidable. But reading your line about Plato=integrity approach and Aristotle=intimacy approach I started thinking that your work might lead readers to over-generalise and to forget about the complexity of each of this thinkers. I am not saying that you are not aware of it.
2. I sense we had this argument already, but why don’t you add the Stoic idea that adhering to one’s duty while being aware of it is tantamount to happiness? In this sense, deontology does not deem happiness irrelevant. Nor is it the case that awareness of the moment destroys happiness. Jumping back to categorizations, Being happy while you are forgetting yourself is typical of instinctive people, whereas planners often enjoy the way they can consciously enjoy every second of the process leading to a wished goal.
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