Showing posts with label History of Ideas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History of Ideas. Show all posts

25 September 2020

Early Buddhist Heterodoxy: Pudgalavāda

I've been reading the excellent book chapter on pudgalavāda "the person doctrine" by Amber Carpenter (pictured). Carpenter  (2015) summarises a coherent, emergentist philosophy and it's clear to me that Buddhism is much the poorer for the disappearance of such heterodox thinking. There was a time when Buddhists disagreed about fundamentals and this produced both innovative thinking and bracing polemics. Even so, the polemics acknowledge that those who espoused pudgalavāda were Buddhists. The aim was to refute and convert, not to exclude.

It is worth clarifying at the outset that pudgalavāda is not the name of a sectarian lineage like the Theravāda (hence, I do not capitalise it). Rather, it was a view espoused by members of a range of such lineages but somewhat independently of them. Thus, it does not make sense to refer to "Pudgalavādins" in the way that we refer to Theravādins. Pudgalavāda is a philosophical view of certain issues that Carpenter draws out.

If we take a typical introduction to discussion of pudgalavāda we learn that:
The [pudgalavāda] doctrine holds that the person, in a certain sense, is real. To other Buddhists, their view seemed to contradict a fundamental tenet of Buddhism, the doctrine of non-self. — Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
This view subtly takes the orthodox view and treats pudgalavāda as heterodox and it sets up a false dichotomy. This is partly because most accounts of pudgalavāda are drawn from polemics that seem to deliberately take a mistaken view of what is meant by pudgala, i.e. that it is an ātman substitute. It is emphatically not an ātmavāda and it is not in any way connected to the idea of a permanent self. So when a source like this links pudgalavāda to the anātman doctrine this is a strawman fallacy. 

Although Carpenter highlights karma in her title, the role of karma in the story of pudgalavāda is down-played in a way that I found a little frustrating because of my own project. Rather than review Carpenter, I will simply recommend the chapter to anyone interested in early Buddhist thought. It is well written and cogently argued and makes a good deal of sense of what might otherwise be a puzzling development in Buddhist thought. What I aim to do here is reframe Carpenter's observations in terms that better suit my own purposes.

In particular, I want to put karma and problems with the early Buddhist doctrine of karma at the forefront and pursue my thesis that it was problems integrating other doctrines with the karma doctrine rather than, say, problems with anātmavāda, that motivated the development of early Buddhist sectarianism. I have long argued, for example, that there is a conflict between karma and the doctrine of dependent arising which does not allow for continuity over time or for consequences manifesting long after their condition has ceased to exist. And I've also argued that in resolving the conflict, Buddhists always seek to resolve it in favour of karma. Even Nāgārjuna, who deduces, based on unchallenged presuppositions, that karma cannot be ultimately real, ends up accepting that karma is still operative at the level of conventional reality. No one seems to question whether this is a coherent worldview, let alone whether it is a coherent view of karma (in my view the answer is "no" in both cases). 

Framing Buddhist sectarianism as based on philosophical disagreements over the nature of selfhood is commonplace. Everyone seems to assume that disagreements in which (an)ātman is discussed must be based in speculations about the nature of ātman. And this is true even when only the secondary literature discusses ātman. But why, oh why, were Buddhists speculating about the nature of something that they explicitly did not believe in? This is not a question that writing on anātmanvāda seems to address. Whatever the answer, Carpenter points out that scripture was not able to resolve such conflicts since "the best evidence available—namely the discourses of the Buddha...—was both ambiguous and conflicting" (3). And yet, as she also says on the following pages, the conflict over pudgala was not over the anātman doctrine. Rather, proponents of pudgalavāda were at pains to affirm anātmavāda (5). The pudgala is emphatically not an ātman substitute. So if the pudgala was not ātman then what was it?


What is the Pudgala?

The pudgalavāda argues that the skandhas are not randomly distributed or related. Rather, there is a distinct arrangement of the skandhas associated with each individual. If Devadatta experiences a vedanā, it only happens to him. Yajñadatta does not have a cognition based on Devadatta's sense experience. If Devadatta and Yajñādatta are both looking at an orange and Devadatta closes his eyes, Devadatta cannot see the orange, but Yajñadatta still can. A dharma cognized by the manas of Devadatta is not cognized by the manas of Yajñadatta. This is a very obvious fact but one that seldom comes into play in mainstream Buddhism philosophy. Whatever you wish to say about ātman, at some level we are individuals having individual sense experiences that are not public, not shared, but private and subjective. 

Most Buddhist thought is relentlessly reductive. Early Buddhists sought reality through reductive analysis. Such methods result in knowledge about substances (dharma, dravya). The Abhidharma extended this to include substances and the relations (pratyāya) between them, but they still reduced everything to their catalogues of substances and relations. 

The whole discussion was made more complex by the realisation that metaphysical reductionism causes a problem. If only simple substances (dharmas) are real, then what is the nature of the complex world we interact with? The answer was sought in a doctrine that had originally described the arising of experiences in awareness: contact between sense organ and sense object gave rise to sense consciousness. This was now generalised to apply to reality in the broadest sense: everything arises in dependence on conditions.

This led towards a hierarchical construction of reality into ultimately real (paramārtha-sat) and conventionally real (saṃvṛti-sat). Initially, only substance was ultimately real and structures and systems (the macro world we interact with) were only conventionally real. The view is hierarchical because that which is conventionally real derives its existence from that which is ultimately real. Nāgārjuna abandoned the idea that substance is real and asserted that only absence (śūnyatā) is real and then complained when people called him a nihilist.

Carpenter makes the excellent point that by the time of Vasubandhu (upon whose polemics we often rely for information about heterodox Buddhists) paramārtha-sat and saṃvṛti-sat were routinely being conflated with another pair of concepts, i.e. substantially real (drayva-sat) and conceptually real (prajñapti-sat). In this view, conventionally real phenomena are merely conceptual (prajñapti). The world that we interact with as pṛthagjanas is just a bunch of concepts. 

However, it seems to me that the corollary—that what is ultimately real was the substantial (or objective)—was not so widely accepted. Indeed, it is this idea that is in the sights of both Nāgārjuna and Vasubandhu. As I've noted, Nāgārjuna, using deduction from a set of axioms, is forced into the conclusion that only absence is real. As I understand Vasubandhu, he would also reject that idea that ultimate reality can be conflated with substance. His response was to flirt with idealism (though his actual commitment to idealism is the subject of ongoing debates) in the form of the mind-only doctrine (cittamātravāda aka "doctrine of mere conceptions" vijñaptimātravāda). In this sense, Vasubandhu seems to lean toward connecting paramārtha-sat to prajñapti-sat.

This conflation of conventionally real and conceptually real should sound familiar because some version of it is present in almost all modern Buddhist teachings. We are taught that what appears to be real to the unenlightened turns out to be mere conceptions. And "insight" blows away the delusions so that we see reality as it is, without the overlay of conceptions.

Keeping in mind that pudgala is defined as an arrangement of the skandhas, where would it fit into these definitions of what is real according to pudgalavāda

The pudgala is truly real (paramārtha-sat) because it really exists, but it is not a substance (dravya), so that is only conceptually real in the sense that we conceive of the pudgala based an arrangement of the skandhas in a particular individual. Not being a substance, but being only a peculiar but real arrangement of skandhas means that the pudgala does not qualify as an ātman.

This combination of paramārtha-sat and prajñapti-sat was confounding for other Buddhists with their commitment to reductionism. Vasubandhu argued that only two possibilities exist: the pudgala could either be reduced to the really existent skandhas, or it could not, and amounted to an ātmavāda. And he rejected both alternatives. He could not conceive of a non-reductive reality. 

In modern terms, the pudgalavāda is an anti-reductive or emergentist argument. The pudgala is real because of the structure of the skandhas, not because of their substance. I also see parallels with John Searle's distinctions between ontological and epistemic truths and between objective and subjective truths. The pudgala is an ontologically subjective truth, but at the same time epistemically objective. The mode of existence of the pudgala is mental and thus subjective, but for anyone who is aware, they are aware of being someone and having some kind of continuity over time.

Given that Buddhists are bound to stipulate the anātmavāda, this is a considerably better philosophical answer to the problem of our experience of continuity than the two truths doctrine, which to my mind is incoherent. But why is this an important area of speculations and conjectures for early Buddhists? We can see, I hope, what the pudgala is, but what is the point of postulating such a thing? 


What Does the Pudgala Do?

Proponents of pudgalavāda do not seem to have been involved in speculations about self. They themselves denied it. They were dragged into the discussion of "self" by strawman arguments based on reductionist metaphysics. It was like they could not help but buy into the framing of the criticisms from other Buddhists. 

Rather, they seem to be thinking about continuity. And continuity is important because without it karma is meaningless. On the other hand, ātman is what provides the necessary continuity for karma in the late Vedic religion and since Buddhist arguments about karma and ātman often revolve around explicit rejection of Vedic theology, the concept of "self" always seems to creep into the discussion, whether we like it or not. 

Carpenter makes the point that the Brahmanical ātman is a convenient idea because it performs a number of roles. It is the agent (kārtṛ) of actions (karman) and it is the patient (bhoktṛ) of consequences (vipāka) (11-12). There is no doubt that for the ancient Brahmin the one who acts is the one who suffers the consequences. This is all well and good because without this karma does not make sense, and neither does morality, generally. In fact, "actions have consequences" is a modern Buddhist catchcry. 

By adopting dependent arising as a metaphysics, Buddhists sacrificed the continuity necessary to make karma coherent. But only theoretically. When discussing karma or morality Buddhists still acted as though continuity is a given. Nowhere is this more apparent that the fifth of the "Five Remembrances" from the Upajjhatthana Sutta (AN 5.57):
Kammassakomhi kammadāyādo kammayoni kammabandhū kammapaṭisaraṇo yaṃ kammaṃ karissāmi kalyāṇaṃ vā pāpakaṃ vā tassa dāyādo bhavissāmī 
I am the owner of my actions, the heir of my actions, born from my actions, bound to my actions, and find refuge in my actions. I will be the heir of whatever good or evil actions I do.
There is no doubt in my mind that these lines strongly imply continuity over time: either the kārtṛ and the bhoktṛ are the same person or the words don't make sense. And much the same is true throughout the Jātakas which are used to teach Buddhist morality in more traditional societies. These are stories of how someone's actions in a past life are the cause of some event in their present life. The protagonists are all given definite identities in the past. Morality is not possible without this kind of continuity. 

At the same time, Buddhists have long denied any continuous entity which could provide the continuity necessary for karma to work like this. The "self" (ātman) or "being" (satva) is analysed into components in a typically reductive method, exposing the complex object as insubstantial, but also going the extra mile and declaring that only substances can be real and that therefore complex objects, like a self, are not real. Modern Buddhists recite this without reflection on the applicability of reductionism. 

By breaking the reductionist mould, pudgalavāda found a way out of the dilemma of having morality and metaphysics that are inconsistent. The loss caused by the disappearance of this stream of thought from Buddhism is immeasurable. 

Without ever conceding that they intended any kind of ātman, or that anything like an ātman could be inferred from pudgalavāda, the argument proceeded like this. The skandhas are not randomly distributed. Experience is subjective and thus individualised. We do not have access to each other's experience, stories of extrasensory powers notwithstanding. 

If experience is and remains subjective, then each occurrence of the five skandhas as a group stays together as a group or else subjective experience would be incoherent. There is a persistent structure that is not dravya-sat, i.e. not a real substance, but which is paramārtha-sat, i.e. truly real. They appear here to be groping towards an emergentist metaphysics by admitting that something other than a substance can be real. Although reductive ontologies are the current mainstream, the argument for only including substance and excluding structure/system from reality is an ideological argument. The argument for a reductive metaphysics is not inescapable or paramārtha-sat.

Each individual is a collection of skandhas. When Devadatta sees something, Yajñadatta doesn't experience a vedanā. Yajñadatta only experiences a vedanā when his own sense organs contact a sense object. The skandhas themselves are associated with each other over time, they are grouped together in this way. No other explanation fits with the subjectivity of experience. It is this association that is real and persistent. It is not a real and persistent substance and thus emphatically not an ātman. Moreover, it is not a "relation" (pratyāya) in the Abhidharma sense. It is this association of skandhas that we name pudgala in this context.

The important thing is that the pudgala provides the kind of continuity that karma demands and that dependent arising makes impossible. And because the association itself is not dealt with the reductive metaphysics of early Buddhists, it is not specifically denied. What's more there is some (admittedly minimal) textual support for this interpretation in the Bhāra Sutta (SN 22:22).
Katamo ca, bhikkhave, bhārahāro. Puggalo Tissa vacanīyaṃ. Yoyaṃ āyasmā evaṃnāmo evaṃgotto; ayaṃ vuccati, bhikkhave, bhārahāro. (SN III.26)
What is the bearer of the burden (bhāra-hāra)? It should be called “person” (puggala). This elder named thus and from a particular clan. Monks, this is called the bearer of the burden
And what is the burden (bhāra)? It is precisely the skandhas, or here the five branches that fuel existence (pañcupādānakkhandhā). This is only one of many texts in the Theravāda canon that contradict Theravāda orthodoxy. 


Conclusion

It seems unhelpful to think of the pudgalavāda as a speculative philosophy born from conjectures about the nature of the self. Rather, if I may say so, it fits better with my account of Buddhists being trapped in an invidious position of embracing the moral doctrine of karma and at the same time adopting a metaphysics which denied the reality of the mechanism by which karma works (i.e. continuity over time). Many ways out of this dilemma were proposed including the "always existence dharma theory" (sarvāstivāda) and the theory of momentary series of dharmas (kṣanavāda). Pudgalavāda is a lost solution to this problem that is far more interesting and promising than popular presentations would suggest. I think Amber Carpenter covered the problems with karma, but to me they deserve special emphasis. 

The pudgala refers to the specific arrangement of skandhas that makes up an individual. It must be individual because sense experience is subjective. This arrangement, this structure, as I would call it, is paramārtha-sat but not dravya-sat. In John Searle's (1995) terms it is ontologically subjective, but epistemically objective. Even though the experience is subjective, we know that it is real as opposed to, for example, an illusion, a hallucination, or a dream. A real experience is distinguishable from an unreal one in a number of ways: the unreal experience does not follow our explicit or implicit physical laws, in an unreal experience our senses do not concur with each other (e.g. something heard but not seen), and other observers do not concur on the existence of unreal experiences. Obviously, this distinction is not infallible. 

If karma visits the consequences of actions on the agent (kārtṛ), then the agent must persist in some way to become the patient (bhoktṛ) or the doctrine is incoherent. Buddhists scriptures themselves link the kārtṛ and bhoktṛ

Alone amongst all of Buddhism, as far as I know, the pudgalavāda is the only Buddhist doctrine to question the supremacy of reductionism. This alone makes it worthy of respect and interest.Since reading Richard Jones' Analysis and the Fullness of Reality, I am personally interested in any philosophy which embraces the reality of structure or systems. It is a delight to find such a view in the unrelenting reductionism of both early and modern Buddhism.

I also cannot help but note that the Prajñāpāramitāvāda appears to avoid the metaphysical problems by staying inside the lines of epistemology. Rather than dabbling in speculative metaphysics, Prajñāpāramitā remains focussed on the phenomenology of meditation and in particular the state of absence of sense experience (śūnyatā). Where Nāgārjuna is sucked down the rabbit hole of asserting the ultimate reality of absence, the Prajñāpāramitā sūtras do not make this mistake. They do not follow the white rabbit. They know that what absence offers is not reality, but a deeper glimpse into the nature of subjectivity.

I'm still trying to counteract the disastrous misreadings of history so this is probably an overly generous view of Prajñāpāramitā. Because, of course, they were trying to make sense of Buddhist doctrines as well. Prajñāpāramitā is still at heart a soteriology, a way to escape from rebirth. The religious worldview of karma and rebirth is still the context in which the Prajñāpāramitā discourses take place.


~~oOo~~


Bibliography

Carpenter, Amber. 2015. "Persons Keeping their Karma Together: The Reasons for the Pudgalavāda in Early Buddhism." In The Moon Points Back. Edited by Koji Tanaka et al, 1-44. Oxford University Press.

Searle, John R. (1995). The Construction of Social reality. Penguin.

Amber Carpenter is an associate professor at Yale University. She is involved in the Integrity Project

03 May 2019

On Liberty and Liberalism

Perhaps the most beautiful and lasting contribution of the European Enlightenment has been the idea of individual liberty. It's hard to draw a distinct line, but let's say that before about 1700 almost no one was free. For example, in England, the King owned all the land and all the resources and just let people use them, mostly to build political alliances. Any of all of it could be taken away and given to someone else. You didn't work for a boss and you could not quit. You were owned by a Lord; if you quit you could be summarily killed.

In early medieval Japan, one king bankrupted the state building temples to ward off natural disasters. This meant that peasants faced heavy taxes and forced labour. The Grand Canal and most of the Great Wall in China were built with forced labour. If you were a medieval peasant then you did what you were told. There were peasant revolts from time to time, but usually they faced an army of well-armed and well-trained soldiers who were prepared to cut them down. On the other hand, peasants were themselves often forced into impromptu armies to fight the largely peasant armies of the neighbouring kingdom. A practice that continued long enough to give English the phrase "cannon fodder".

In addition to this material slavery, the Church, especially the Catholic Church, imposed a kind of mental slavery on Europeans. Buddhists did the same across Asia. Michel Foucault writes germanely (if not well) on this subject in his book Madness and Civilisation. The Church used confession as a way of surveilling the minds of Christians and controlling their thoughts. It is not enough to be a physical subject of the king, one's very thoughts must be moulded to make one a mental subject as well. Religion very often characterises the human being as a beast which needs to be tamed and controlled. For the Abrahamic faiths it was a state of original sin that resulted from the story of Adam and Eve. Buddhists characterised our will, our desires, our very sense of self as being responsible for all suffering.

This situation prevailed for most of human history. It probably emerged with the first city states and kingdoms. These early states concentrated power and wealth in the hands of leader who used it as they saw fit. The principle of hereditary power inevitably led to a preponderance of bad leaders and thence to attempts to redistribute power away from kings, away from royal families and, eventually, in our own time, to the people, although even in a "democracy" people (demos) have little say in state level decisions or the day to day governance. Usually all we get is one vote every few years and the rest of the time we just shout at the television.

The various political, economic, and moral ideologies that take liberty as their central idea are (sometimes confusingly) called liberalism. Despite the rise and fall of political parties with various names, liberalism has been the dominant ideology in Europe and its colonies since the 18th Century. Liberalism still faces competition from conservatism and socialism, but tends to come out ahead because the ideals of liberalism are internalised by the population. Anyone espousing liberalism sounds sensible to the majority, because we value the goals of liberalism: typically framed as rights and freedoms. Critiques of socialism and conservatism abound, but the ideology of liberalism is often transparent or presented as natural law.

How did "liberal", which describes über right-wing economics (free markets, laissez faire), become synonymous with welfare and the left-wing? How is this related to libertarianism? What does the much abused term neoliberal mean? In this essay I will attempt to sketch the history of idea of liberalism and show how the various uses of the word are related.

Any relatively short essay inevitably over-generalises and truncates a subject which already fills a library of books. And, of course, I have an agenda in writing this essay and highlighting what seems most germane to that agenda. I make no pretence at neutrality; I think liberalism has made a valuable contribution but has become a dangerous cult. We need to think about our approach to civil society in light of modern science, but before we can do that we need to dismantle the current ideologies. I begin, therefore, with a relatively crude dissection.


Classical Liberalism

When did people start to rebel against the absolute authority of kings? Nobody really knows, but it probably coincides with the first king who was incompetent, insane, or immoral. Freedom from oppressive authority is one of the most basic definitions of liberty. This is what Isaiah Berlin termed "negative freedom". The assumption is that we are naturally free if left to our own devices.

One of the iconic moments in this history of this idea of liberty is the signing of the Magna Carta. The barons of England made a coalition to extract promises of fairness and justice (for the barons, not their human chattels) from a despotic king who used his power in an arbitrary way.

However, liberalism did not emerge as a coherent philosophy until the late 18th Century. Historians seem to agree that a few key figures gave liberalism its intellectual shape. Of course at any point in history there are thousands or millions of people involved in any movement. Liberalism was very much broader than a few individuals, it's just that for the purposes of writing history a movement can be summed up with reference to those few. And of course, liberalism is not a homogeneous movement by any means. The fact that is it used to label both right-wing economics and left-wing social policies should make this obvious.


Hobbes

Historians often point to Thomas Hobbes' 1651 book Leviathan as the beginnings of classical liberalism as a political ideology, though Hobbes does not use the word "liberal" and favoured monarchism. Hobbes gains his place in the canon because he asks on what grounds a citizen owes allegiance to a sovereign. It is perhaps the first articulation of the citizen not being the property of the king.

In Hobbes' view, the natural state of men is war, of everyone against everyone.* In this "natural" state the life of man is "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short". Only a powerful ruler, the eponymous Leviathan, can bring order to the lives of men and thus men enter into a social contract between ruler and ruled, or between state and citizen. The ruler rules by the consent of the ruled, and they consent because the alternative is war.
* On the use of "man" here, my task is not to rehabilitate these thinkers. They were, on the whole, sexists who thought of women as inferior (J. S. Mill is one exception to this). Where they speak only of "man", I will report this accurately as a nail in their coffin.
Hobbes lived through a turbulent period in history with the Thirty Years War (1618 – 1648) and the English Civil War (1642 – 1651). We could sum up the Civil War by saying that a weak ruler allowed his kingdom to fall apart and then a civilian army succeeded in overthrowing and beheading him. Conditions were exacerbated by rebellions in Scotland and Ireland and by opposition from the Scottish Churches. Thus conceivably this was an influence on Hobbes. However, the Thirty Years War, one of the most destructive and disruptive conflicts in history, was prosecuted by Europe's Leviathan kings, which seems to contradict his view that Leviathan brings stability. In fact most wars are fought by kings using their citizens as proxies.

Other early liberal thinkers, including Locke, Rousseau, and Kant, developed the idea of the social contract.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712 – 1778), of course, wrote a great deal about the individual and their freedom, giving liberalism a rosy tinge of Romanticism. But he is seldom included in the main line of the development of liberalism. He saw our natural, i.e., free, state as that of the noble savage. In his view the social contract was the subjection of the individual will to the general will. This is an idea that is powerfully current in the UK today. Having won a 2% majority for leaving the EU in a referendum, Brexit campaigners repeatedly cite the "will of the people" and expect all to subject themselves to that will even when it is clear that opinion has shifted. Several of the main themes of liberalism are present in his work, but attention rightly focuses on another English philosopher as the father of liberal ideology.


John Locke

Locke (1632 – 1704) came from minor gentry and was a notable Whig. He was educated in an elite school and Oxford University where he became a don. He served as physician to the Whig politician, Lord Ashley (1621 – 1683, aka the 1st Earl of Shaftesbury), one of the richest men in England. It is conventional to see the Liberal Party as emerging from the Whigs.

The Whigs were a party of aristocrats with commercial interests who wanted to be protected from the power of the Crown to appropriate their wealth and raise taxes (mainly to fight wars in Europe). Inevitably, "commercial interests" is in many cases a euphemism for the transatlantic slave trade. Lord Ashley was part of a cabal that dominated the African slave trade, though a later Earl of Shaftesbury would be a prominent abolitionist.

Having lost his patron, Locke spent some time in Holland, where sat out the so-called Glorious Revolution of 1688, which saw William of Orange take the English crown. Even with a Protestant on the throne, paranoia about Catholic plots continued. On his return to England in 1690, Locke published the tracts that established his reputation and lasting legacy, namely the Essay on Human Understanding and the two Treatises on Government.

Locke, like Hobbes, was concerned primarily with negative freedom; we are assumed to naturally be free except when something (usually a king) deprives us of freedom. He also believed that men are equal and attacked theological arguments for preordained hierarchies such as the divine right of kings. He believed that there were natural laws ordained by God that even in our natural state men must be bound by. These natural laws were revealed by the application of reason. If liberty is the most beautiful theme of the enlightenment then reason is the most problematic (as anyone who has read The Enigma of Reason by Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber will understand). The natural laws gave rise to natural rights, such as the right to life, the right to liberty, and freedom of worship. Freedom of worship in particular came to be seen as the long term solution to the question of the incessant conflict between Catholics and Protestants.

In his Treatises on Government (1690), Locke argued for the liberty of individuals and that any encroachment on their liberty had to be justified. Justifiable encroachments on liberty are strictly limited to preventing activities that harm others. Like Hobbes (and unlike Rousseau), Locke believed that, unless coerced, men had an incorrigible tendency to infringe the natural rights of others and thus civil society was necessarily bound by a social contract. Locke argued that the role of the sovereign is to protect the person and property of individuals.

This is a good place to make the distinction between liberalism and conservatism. Rousseau famously framed the problem of negative liberty as "Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains." Edmund Burke, the quintessential conservative would have replied, "and a good thing too". Liberals argued for the need to break those chains (though typically for a small subset of society) while conservatives were and are concerned with building social institutions to ensure the chains remained in place. Like Hobbes, conservatives see a society without a strong ruler (a father figure) as chaotic and unworkable.

Locke was profoundly influential on the founding fathers of the USA and many of his ideas about liberty are encapsulated in the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights. One of the measures that they took was to carefully separate out the functions of government—executive, legislative, and judicial—and have them operate independently of each other as far as possible.

There is an important point to be made about nascent and classical liberalism. Liberty is certainly the central issue, but none of the early liberals believed that it applied to everyone. And in these early days the exceptions were by far the majority of citizens. Liberty was not intended to apply to women, for example. Nor to anyone with dark skin. Nor did liberty pertain to the indigenous Americans who suffered genocide and expropriation.

Attitudes to slavery give us an important indicator for the evolution of liberalism. As note Locke's patron was a kingpin of the slave trade. Some of the founding fathers of the USA who wrote that "All men are created equal" were engaged in the slave trade and/or owned slaves. Thomas Jefferson railed against slavery but did not free the 600 he owned, allegedly because he could not afford to (with the implication that one white man going bankrupt was not worth the freedom of 600 Africans). He also thought that they should be trained in a trade before being freed so as not to be a burden on society. He managed to train and free just 6 men over his lifetime or about 1% of the slaves that he owned. Meanwhile, he also had children by one of his female slaves. Later, when slavery was abolished, slave owners were compensated for their loss, but slaves themselves received nothing in reparations.

Thus, when considering the history of the idea of liberty we always need to be attuned to whom liberty applied and did not apply. Of equal importance is the question of who was making such determinations about what constituted liberty: somehow these determinations always favoured the elite, the slave owners. Locke is part of the elite that wants to be free of oppression from the king, but who live by oppressing workers and slaves. Similarly in the USA, the genocide and expropriation of the original inhabitants was done in the name of liberty. I grew up watching Western movies in which the "Indians" were an oppressive force trying to prevent the settlers from being free.

Since Locke's time, the hereditary aristocracy has been largely replaced by industrialists at the ruling class: the bourgeoisie as Marx called them. Though this class also pass on wealth and influence along hereditary lines and use social connections to advance their own and exclude others. In the 19th Century, they represented a middle class between aristocrats and peasants, though "middle class" has taken on quite a different meaning now.

If Locke provided the philosophical inspiration then it was Adam Smith who translated liberalism into economics and who writing marks the beginning of classical liberalism.


The Wealth of Nations

Throughout the late Medieval period and into the Renaissance the merchant classes developed an approach to economics that served only their interests. Mercantilists saw trade as a zero sum game in which each nation attempted to accumulate wealth by outdoing the others. This was partly why Europe kept erupting into large scale wars for centuries, culminating in WWII.

The publication of The Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith in 1776 was a turning point in modern history. Many of the ideas that underpin modern nation states and how they trade are first enunciated by Smith. He might be called the first classical liberal, and is still the darling of economic liberals (if only via his later interpreters).

The primary argument is for free trade as a non-zero sum game. If trade is free, Smith says, then "everybody" benefits, although as before we have to be alert to the exclusions that liberal intellectuals always made. Thus we could see Smith as extending Locke's arguments about liberty and encroachment on liberty to the economic sphere. Any encroachment on economic activity must be justified, and then only to prevent harm. And when he says that everyone benefits, he means not workers, but those engaged in trade.

Smith argues for a view of humanity as rational and concerned primarily with self-interest. In his thesis, if every merchant rationally pursues his own self interest (while avoiding harm to others), then the market will guide his actions towards the greater good. This is a crude version of the so-called "law of supply and demand" expanded to cover the whole economy. I will have a good deal more to say about this in the next essay.

This view of economics takes a particular, quite abstract, view of humanity as rational and self-interested as well as primarily motivated by maximising their own benefit. This view of rationality is a feature of Enlightenment thinking about humanity. The modern versions of the theory of market economies also assume that we have perfect knowledge of the costs and benefits of all decisions and make rational decisions about what is best for us. In the economist's worldview everything is idealised with a particular slant. Unfortunately, as the field of economics progressed, that slant increasingly became whatever was required to produce simple mathematics.

Here we need to raise what now seems like an obvious question: had Smith actually met any people? Because it is obvious to any keen observer of humanity that we are seldom rational and that we are frequently not self-interested. We look after our ageing parents, for example, when it can hardly be in our economic interest to do so. If we were as coldly calculating as Smith makes out, for example, it would be in our interest to euthanize the elderly, the sooner to inherit their wealth before they squander it on extending lives of very poor quality. This question comes up again when we consider the other man with a claim to being the first classical liberal.


Bentham and the Mills

Three other key liberal thinkers were Jeremy Bentham, his friend, James Mill, and especially Mill's son John Stuart Mill.

Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832) was a child prodigy from a wealthy family. He was educated at an elite private school and Oxford University. It has been suggested that he was on the autistic spectrum, but I am deeply suspicious of such diagnoses long after the death of the individual. I've seen people diagnose me from my writing with psychopathologies that my psychiatrists entirely disagree with.

The name Bentham is synonymous with the philosophy of utilitarianism. In particular he conceived of man as governed by purely pleasure and pain. And from this he extrapolated a moral theory in which good could be understood as maximising pleasure, while evil maximises pain. The calculations involved in how much pleasure or pain was caused by any decision he called "hedonic calculus". Bentham dwelled on the sources of pleasure and categorised them according to intensity, duration, immediacy, and certainty of gratification.

James Mill (1773–1836) was, unlike most of the other liberals, from a modest background, but still benefited from a good education. The elder Mill was a close friend of Bentham and a leading philosophical radical who believed in the power of education. He co-founded London's University College. His view was that men could be persuaded by argument to make rational assessments before acting. We can only assume that, like Smith, he never met many men.

However, Bentham and Mill are both minor figures compared to J. S. Mill (1806–1873). Mill's influence is probably on a par with Adam Smith's and historians refer to him as the most influential English philosopher of the 19th Century. The importance of Mill's ideas about civil society in Britain cannot be overstated. In particular he unites Locke's liberalism and Bentham's utilitarianism.

Mill was educated at home by his father and Bentham, and he was kept isolated from other children other than his siblings. Like Bentham he was a prodigy and became well versed in many fields of knowledge at a very young age. As a non-conformist, Mill was barred from Oxbridge, but he attended lectures at University College and worked for the East India Company.

J. S. Mill made important contributions to a number of fields, and of interest to other parts of my project/object is that, along with Auguste Comte, he was amongst the first generation of emergentists. In his System of Logic (1843) Mill described emergent phenomena that were greater than the sum of their parts.

His book On Liberty (1859) extends Locke's ideas on liberty. Like Locke, he sees the role of the government as preventing individuals encroaching on each other's freedoms. However, Mill's justification for liberty is utilitarian along Benthamite lines. Freedom of speech, for example, allows for a plurality of opinions, which promotes debate and discussion on the best way forward and thus leads to the greatest good. An intellectual monoculture will stifle a society and cause it to stagnate, which is a cause of pain.

Unlike his predecessors, Mill rejects the idea of an explicit social contract, but he does recognise that in society we have mutual obligations. People living in a civil society are interdependent, which creates a problem for Mill. The idea, for example, that our actions can have no effect on those around us when we live in an interdependent society is difficult to defend. Everything we do has consequences for those around us. Arguably, any action that violates our mutual obligations is in some way harmful. This undermines the case for individualism. Where Mill was criticised, it was because he was overly vague on such questions. Drawing on modern understanding of human societies we can do much better, but I get ahead of myself.

In his Utilitarianism (1863), Mill revises and extends Bentham's ideas about Utilitarianism with a more sophisticated analysis of self-interest and pleasure. Where Bentham had been largely concerned with the quantity of pleasure, Mill introduced a qualitative distinction between higher and lower pleasures. Ultimately, utilitarianism aims for the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people, as Bentham put it. In Mill's understanding, moral terminology—e.g., "good", "evil", "duty", or "rights"—are subsumed into this scheme. Utilitarianism is a moral theory. Mill tries to argue that utilitarianism is "natural", i.e., that it emerges out of our social nature.

Mill was notably in favour of women's suffrage. The issue was becoming increasingly urgent in his day. Mill fell in love with, and eventually married, Harriet Taylor, who had a formidable intellect and was a vocal advocate of women's rights and she seems to have had a powerful (positive) influence on him.

However, Mill's view on India and China was they had regressed into barbarism and were incapable of ruling themselves. He was in favour of the "benevolent despotism" of the British Empire, as long as it helped the unfortunate barbarians to progress. Although, of course, it was the British Empire which had destroyed their civilisations, particularly through the cultivation of opium by indentured labourers in India and through addiction to opium in China. We should not forget that the British fought two wars with China (1839–1842) and the Second Opium War (1856–1860) to retain the "right" to push opium on the Chinese. Prior to these wars, China has the largest economy in the world and was a net exporter to the world. Over the period of the opium wars their share of global GDP halved. The situation in India was similar.

Mill, like other classical liberals, appears to be blind to the contradictions inherent in their worldview. Liberty for all, where "all" meant "rich white men". The greatest good for the greatest number, not counting Chinese, Indians, or the first nation peoples in America. And so on.

There were, of course, dozens of other people who made contributions to liberalism. In the figures mentioned we find the bare outlines of liberalism: individual liberty as the natural state of the elite, limited government combined with benevolent dictatorship of the elite; free trade for the mercantile class combined with servitude for workers; human beings as both rational and selfish. In general, the classical liberals were against democracy because ordinary people did not have the education required to understand human affairs, and they rightly intuited that the common people would want to limit the freedom of the elite to exploit them. However, they were also against wars of aggression since this impinged on trade and the liberty of the elite.


Spencer And Social Darwinism

There is one more influence from the mid-19th Century onwards that I wish to emphasise, since I see it as crucial to understanding neoliberalism. As I have emphasised, classical liberalism is closely tied to the expansion of the British Empire and to the rise of the Industrialists. Classical liberalism is the ideology which defends the right of the imperialist and the industrialist to engage in conquering and commerce (hand in hand) without interference, while justifying their dictatorship over those who are deemed incapable of exercising the rationality required for liberty (women, people of colour, indigenous peoples, and the working classes).

The new theory of evolution by natural selection proposed by Charles Darwin played into this imperialist narrative. "Natural" is a word that crops up a lot in the history of liberalism. Natural rights, for example. Natural laws, revealed by reason. And so on. So natural selection was always likely to attract the attention of liberals.

It was Herbert Spencer (1820 – 1903) who worked the idea of natural selection into liberal ideology. Spencer is infamous for his summation of evolution as "survival of the fittest". In evolution theory this applies at the species level. However, it suited the liberal agenda to apply it to the individual and link it to the idea of a natural hierarchy in nature. And this, to my mind, is one of the ley manoeuvres of neoclassical liberalism or neoliberalism. Spencer confused the idea of evolution with the idea of social progress, producing the idea of social Darwinism. The elite were always on the lookout for justifications of their behaviour.

By the time Spencer arrived on the scene the new liberalism had already begun to try to address the social catastrophe caused by classical liberalism. In a sense, in his denunciation of new liberalism and their interventions, Spencer may be counted the first neoliberal. For example, he opposed compulsory education, laws to regulate safety at work, tax funded libraries, and welfare reforms. For Spencer and the neoliberals, if people fall by the wayside, then they were not fit to survive and we are better off without them. Survival of the fittest, callously applied to individuals. Social inequality explained at the natural order of things.

Ayn Rand denies outside influences on her anti-altruistic "philosophy" of self interest, but the parallels between her denunciation of altruism and Spencer's social Darwinism are striking. Leading neoliberal Alan Greenspan was a direct disciple of Rand. And she continues to be an inspiration to Silicon Valley entrepreneurs.

It is this violent disregard for humanity, an existing tendency in liberalism made explicit and taken to the extreme, which marks out neoliberalism as distinction from classical liberalism. Neoliberals dropped any pretence of interest in or caring about human beings who are not part of the elite. If classical liberalism is an aberration then neoliberalism is a pathology.


From Whiggery to Liberalism via Radicalism

The American Revolutionary War (1775–1783) resulted in the loss of the American colonies or the founding of a great empire depending on which side of the Atlantic you identify with. In fact, the war ended when the Whigs (proto-liberals) came to power in Britain and began to negotiate a ceasefire and peace. Liberty in the sense of negative freedom became a founding principle of new United States of America.

However, as we have already seen there were significant exceptions to this liberty. Slavery persisted. And the genocide and expropriate of the First Nations people continued unabated. Women were not included. And as in Britain, democracy was resisted. It is not until the 20th Century that women get the vote and not until the 1960s that the Civil Rights Movement led by Martin Luther King Jr. achieves equal status in the eyes of the law for African Americans. Nor has this legal and intellectual equality being internalised or realised. Women and people of colour still routinely experience discrimination, even in the land of the free.

Beginning in 1789, the French Revolution, which had adopted some ideas from liberal intellectuals, began to reshape the Francophone world. However, revolution quickly turned to terror and tyranny from which emerged the militarist state under Napoleon and a pan-European war. French liberalism went in a different direction and France was also strongly influenced by Marxism.

While the French revolution was not repeated in Britain, it did give birth to the Radicals, a cross party grouping which pursued social reforms of a progressive nature. In particular, Radicals moved, with the backing of the working class Chartist movement, to enfranchise more men, culminating in a series of reform acts. Classical Liberals in the UK and the USA were typically reluctant to extend enfranchisement because they saw democracy as a direct threat to their autonomy. Likewise, conservatives resisted democracy. It's quite likely that Churchill was not joking when he referred to it as "the worst form of government".

The radical influence split the Whigs and led to the formation of the Liberal Party in 1859. The Liberal party espoused the new liberal ideology rather than the older classical liberalism. They introduced the first welfare measures in the UK, although these were in the spirit not of collectivism, but of helping people to help themselves. Individualism remained a strong principle. 

The radicals were amongst the first to pursue what Isaiah Berlin termed positive freedom. The lack of a voice in parliament inhibited the freedom of men and so they argued, successfully, for more men to have the vote. Later, progressive liberals would also argue that women should have the vote as well.

Meanwhile in the UK a combination of factors were coming together to kickstart the industrial revolution: technology in the form of steam powered machinery and energy in the form of coal combined to create vast wealth along with a social revolution. Britain, like most other nations, until that point had a largely rural population. But factories needed workers and the money they paid attracted people to the cities. At the same time the mechanisation of farming reduced the amount of labour required and forced people to consider other kinds of work.

 Although it became colonial, the British Empire was first and foremost a money making venture. And it was incredibly successful. Soon a section of British society had masses of surplus capital and they were looking for ways to invest it to make even more money. The built factories and merchant ships and founded one of the great trading empires. However, when they turned to colonialism, government subsidies helped many poor, landless labourers to migrate to the colonies (including many of my ancestors).

Any attempt to tell this story as a linear concatenation of causes falsifies the reality. The changes in Europe and the US that brought liberalism to prominence were complex and part of greater changes in society. And, indeed, liberalism is far from homogeneous. The range of political ideologies that have sheltered under the umbrella of liberalism is bewildering.


The Liberal Divide

When I set out to research liberalism it was partly because I experienced confusion over what the word meant. It especially seemed to mean different things in the UK and the USA. I was particularly puzzled by the term neoliberal, because at least according to one common usage (in the UK and US) neoliberalism is profoundly illiberal in that it has grossly undermined the freedom of workers, reducing their claim on the means of production and to the value created by it, and has resulted in swinging cuts to welfare. Emblematically, Neoliberals and libertarians have blocked liberal attempts to ensure that all Americans have access to health care. How can we understand this apparent contradiction?

As we have seen, however, there were two strands of liberalism from an early period. I tend to think of them as economic liberalism and social liberalism. Classical liberalism, which is currently quite popular due to being espoused by Jordan Peterson, is primarily associated with liberal economic ideas. The historical classical liberals were the rump of the Whigs and other wealthy businessmen, concerned to protect their economic interests from the government. Classical liberalism is generally held to have emerged in the early 19th Century forming around the ideas of Hobbes, Locke, Smith, Mill and their successors. Classical liberal was and is elitist, imperialist, sexist, and racist.

Classical liberalism is the economic philosophy of the wealthy seeking to protect their wealth. They are happy to rule society but not to share their wealth and power with it. They were mainly concerned with negative freedom.


New Liberals

Classical liberalism ran different courses in the UK and the USA. In the UK, classical liberalism is tied to the emergence of the British Empire, while in the USA it is tied to the succession from that Empire and the consolidation of the states into a federal union. In the UK and Europe there was more concerted resistance to liberalism from socialists and communists on the left and conservatives in the centre-right. Anarchists played a role in Europe, mainly because they decided to demonstrate their contempt for leaders by assassinating them, inadvertently setting off World War One in the process.

The results of classical liberalism in Britain are graphically portrayed in the novels of Charles Dickens. Freedom amongst the bourgeoisie gave them an excellent standard of living that is still celebrated in BBC period dramas. What we see less of are the servitude, poverty, slums, disease, child labour, and early death that resulted from the Industrial Revolution. By the mid 19th Century, British society was in danger of collapsing under the influence of economic liberalism. The freedom of the elite creates a huge burden on the rest of society.

Although socialism and communism thrived under these conditions, and labour unions began to claw back some liberty for workers, many liberals were appalled by the world they had created. Liberals began to realise that if liberty was to mean anything then it had to extend to everyone. However, liberals remained committed to individualism. Unlike the left they did not see collectivism as the way to cure the ills of society. They approached the social problems caused by classical liberalism in terms of helping the poor to help themselves.

Liberalism was never simply a political or economic ideology. It was always a moral discourse as well. And part of that moral discourse included the idea that when rational people made good economic choices they prospered. In the liberal ideology, for someone to be poor meant they had made poor economic choices and were thus irrational and unfit to play a greater role in society. They completely overlooked the disadvantages of being born poor and not having access to the elite schools or the nepotism and cronyism of the elite social networks. In other words, classical liberals who were from the ruling classes completely neglected class and privilege in their social analysis.

Where classical liberals saw poverty as an indictment of the immorality of the poor, the new liberals began to see that the poor and working classes were in an impossible situation. Whereas the rich are born into liberty, the poor are born into servitude and lack the opportunities to apply themselves. It was the new liberals who concerned themselves with "social mobility" (still a phrase with a great deal of caché in British politics).

In the USA the political left has never had much traction. And classical liberalism (the right-wing of economics) ran on a lot longer, until the Great Depression. The lack of any real political left, of any true collectivism in the USA has skewed the political discourse. Roosevelt's New Deal is not a left-wing (collectivist) policy. It is a new liberal policy designed to mitigate the unequal economic opportunities individuals face as a result of circumstances beyond their control. The aim was equality of opportunity not, as with socialism, equality of outcome. In the absence of a genuine left-wing in US politics perceptions changed. Welfare liberals took the place of the left, though they are still right-wing by European standards. The new liberals are the "bleeding heart liberals".

So now we begin to see the two main ways the word is used. Classical liberalism or economic liberalism is the ideology of the entitled elite who are solely concerned with making a buck and keeping it. New liberalism or social liberalism wants to change social conditions so that all citizens have an equal opportunity. And as we have seen, classical liberalism combined with social Darwinism reacting against social liberalism gave rise to neoliberalism. In this view libertarians seek to take economic and social individualism to its logical conclusion: people living in isolation with no obligations. Libertarians tend to be utopian in outlook, suggesting that if they could only attain complete negative freedom they would live in the best of all possible worlds. 


Embracing and Hobbling Democracy

For liberals, democracy raised the spectre of another form of tyranny, the tyranny of the majority. Classical liberals were, on the whole, against democracy as a form of government, because of the threat that, outnumbered by the common man, the aristocrats and emerging industrialists would have their liberty restricted. However, it eventually became clear that democracy was unavoidable, partly because the tyranny of classical liberalism was so oppressive.  

In the post war period—a period of austerity and rebuilding for the UK and Europe and a period of unbridled expansion and prosperity in the USA—liberals turned more towards concern for positive freedom. Being born into poverty was now seen as a form of oppression to be removed. Equality of opportunity was the goal of the new liberals.

At the same time, a burgeoning ecological awareness began to push for environmental standards. Unhappy about polluted air, water, food, and land some groups pushed for limits to be placed on industry. The UK was forced to pass a Clean Air Act in 1956 after coal smoke made the air in London unbreathable. Meanwhile, the provision of welfare—designed to help individuals to help themselves—led to higher taxes and to burgeoning governments. Keep in mind that the largest part of the welfare spent in the UK is pensions for the retired. 

The growing role of government in the lives of citizens eventually led to a backlash from economic liberals (who thought of themselves as "conservative" by this stage). In 1971, Lewis Powell wrote a memo to the US Chamber of Commerce:
"No thoughtful person can question that the American economic system is under broad attack. This varies in scope, intensity, in the techniques employed, and in the level of visibility."
In the sense that Powell and his colleagues in the Chamber of Commerce saw the free enterprise system as an institution that had to be preserved, they were conservative. But more than anything they were economic liberals who resented inference in their profit making. So what if they were poisoning the air and water and causing climate change? That was entirely secondary to their right to make a buck.

Powell made a series of recommendations, which in retrospect look like a manifesto for a social revolution (which is really not what conservatives do). Conservative businessmen should, said Powell, begin to buy up media outlets. They should endow university business departments and even found new business schools to teach conservative business values and ideas by which he meant undiluted classical liberalism. The value being the liberty of the elite and the key ideas being free markets, laissez faire, low taxation, welfare reforms, and small government. But furthermore they should start and generously fund foundations and think tanks to employ the graduates of these new business schools. They would help to articulate businessmen's ideas and combat arguments against them, and use their newly owned media as leverage against citizens who wanted clean air etc. The think tanks would also lobby politicians to prevent, weaken, or repeal legal measures which infringed on the freedoms of businessmen.

And this is what businessmen did. Economic and social problems that emerged in the 1970s, not least of which were the oil shocks, propelled candidates into office on the promise of a neoclassical liberal economic program. At the same time a group of extreme libertarian economists seemed to be articulating similar ideas and articulating a reform program to dismantle the concessions of the new liberals to society. 

Although neoliberalism was an existing term, it soon came to be used to describe the program of economic reform undertaken by leaders such as Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. I sometimes call it the Alan Greenspan doctrine since he it was he who translated the ideology into policies. State assets were sold, often to foreigners; state enterprises were privatised, government let go the levers of power except for control of interest rates (aimed at controlling inflation) with the idea that markets would steer themselves. They ignored the increasing corruption that crept into virtually all of the large corporations who used their power to manipulate markets to their own ends, and usually to the detriment of everyone else. 

The same problems that plagued classical liberalism recurred. Wealth became concentrated in the hands of an elite and... surprise, surprise, they promptly used that power in an oppressive manner. They undermined democracy and the liberty of citizens. 

One of the key neoliberal programs was the stripping away of regulations governing the finance industry that had been in place since the 1929 stock market crash and the Great Depression. Private sector debt expanded by orders of magnitude and fuelled a series of bubbles that regularly burst producing economics recessions. This debt ratcheted up to 500% of GDP in the UK just prior to the collapse of Lehman Brothers, which then threatened to take down the entire banking system of the world. In the UK £1.5 trillion (one year's GDP) was borrowed overnight to nationalise banks in order to stabilise the system. 

We know that J. P. Morgan, Bear Sterns, Goldman Sachs, and company acted recklessly and without regard for anything other than the profit of the elite. We know that many companies made money out of the subprime mortgage scam. We know that banks were manipulating interest rates. We know that they were laundering billions for organised crime groups and kleptocrats. We know, but because they have captured government, there has been very little we can do. Most of the dishonest people involved have not been punished and have walked away with fortunes. 

Meanwhile the foundations and think tanks provided more and more lobbyists with PhDs in business and psychology. Each industry employed multiple lobbyists for each elected representative. We all remember the story of big tobacco being in denial about the health dangers of smoking and doing everything they could to prevent any government from curtailing their product or the profits they made. And this continued long after they were certain about the carcinogenic effects of smoking.

Today we see the same thing from automotive and oil companies. Internally they acknowledge the problem of climate change and their role in creating it, but externally they lobby to undermine the attempts to prevent climate change. We know for certain that ExxonMobil and Shell both knew that they were responsible for climate change but continued to publicly cast doubt on climate science and to weaken any environmental legislation. We know that car-makers falsified result of emissions tests. And so on. These are all symptoms of neoclassical liberalism.

If this were not bad enough we began to see a revolving door between senior positions in government and executive positions and directorships in big business. Having spent a few years running interference for business in government, men would be rewarded with high paying private sector jobs. In the USA the senior staff of the Treasury, including the Secretary, would inevitably come from top Wall Street companies. Much the same thing happens around the world. Government who support business know that when they leave government they will become very rich for very little effort. They basically retire on an executive salary. Former Prime Minister of the UK, Tony Blair, earns millions in consulting fees (often from very dodgy nation states) and hides his income in an elaborate structure of shell companies and trusts so that he pays no tax. What an example to nation. 

Companies used the lax legislative environment to buy up competitors and create monopolies or near monopolies. In media, only a handful of companies now own all the mainstream TV networks, all the newspapers, and all the publishing houses (including academic publishing) across the globe. Similarly in banking, supermarkets, the automotive, and electronics. There is a relentless consolidation of power and concentration of wealth, facilitated by governments around the world in exchange for generous private sector retirement packages. And along with this is the phenomenon of the bigger you are the less tax you pay. Amazon, to take one example, gets more in government subsidies to do business in the UK than is pays in taxes. It treats its workers like robots - timing their every moment, including bathroom breaks. These companies squeeze every last penny of profit out of citizens, workers, governments, and somehow never pay tax. They use our commercial infrastructure but make no contribution to it. Which puts more of a burden on citizens to cover the costs. 

Classical liberalism is almost always narrow in its application. Neoliberals want business to be free to make profits at any cost to citizens. One of the main costs has been that although we have the illusion of "democracy" because we get to vote for a local representative, in fact, government is not run by the people for the people and never has been. Frank Zappa called government "the entertainment wing of the military-industrial complex." This seems more true every year.


Conclusion

There is no doubt that liberalism has made an enormous contribution to society. Many of the freedoms that we take for granted have come to us from the political activities associated with varieties of liberalism. Freedom of speech, of association, and of worship are all liberal values. Liberals are also, generally speaking, against wars of aggression. The project to link the previously adversarial nations of Europe together with networks of free trade, the free movement of capital and labour is essentially a liberal one. The whole idea of civil liberties we owe to liberalism.

However, we should not be naïve about the nature of liberalism. It was, and in many ways still is, anti-democratic. Liberals don't want people to have power because they fear the tyranny of the majority. And the majority don't care about becoming rich and powerful. Most people just want a certain amount of security: a roof over their heads, food on the table, education and healthcare. Most people are willing to work hard for these; in fact, much harder than anyone should have to work in this day and age. That willingness is too easily exploited.

Liberalism was always about freedom for the elite to do what they like. The classical liberals did not consider most people capable of exercising freedom because they were not capable of exercising reason. In this they included all women, all Africans, all indigenous people everywhere. Not only did they deny liberty to these classes, they also practiced genocide and expropriation. And what is more they did it in the name of liberty! And we should be outraged by this.

We should be outraged by the way that neoliberals have reorganised society to promote the accumulation of wealth and power in the hands of a few white men. We should be outraged at the continued, if more subtle, denial of liberty to women, people of colour, indigenous peoples. We should, like the anarchist geographer, Dr Simon Springer, be saying "Fuck neoliberalism". Not being polite about it, but honoring the righteous anger at the rhetoric of freedom being used to enslave us.

One of the most troubling trends that follows in the decades of neoliberal abuses of power and office is the rise of fascism: ultranationalist, racist, authoritarian groups which make the same offer to citizens as the fascists of the 1930s did. The elite do not care about you, they say, but we will protect your interests against those of the elite. And plenty of citizens, tired of barely scraping a living, of feeling out of control, tired of watching the excesses of the seemingly untouchable elite, become receptive to the message of fascism.

We already know that economic liberalism is a failure. Given their liberty, the elite always misuse it to oppress others. That neoliberalism is now making fascism look attractive again ought to be a warning sign that something is terribly wrong.

But of course the single biggest indictment of neoliberalism is the failure to acknowledge the impact that all that industry has on the ecology of the planet. Under neoliberalism we have instituted a mass extinction of plant and animal species and created a genuine existential threat to civilisation that can only be compared to the Black Death in Europe when one third of the population died.

In my next essay I will look at some of the reasons that liberalism goes as wrong as it does, particularly in how it understands human beings and human societies. And I will ponder what politics might look like in a world that acknowledged the truth. 

~~oOo~~


Note: 8 May 2019. There is a good article by George Monbiot from 2016 on the modern manifestations of liberalism: Neoliberalism: the ideology at the root of all our problems. He covers Hayek and Friedman. Brilliant Hayek quote shows that he was in fact a classical, anti-democratic, liberal: “my personal preference leans toward a liberal dictatorship rather than toward a democratic government devoid of liberalism”.


02 November 2018

Buddhism, Bodhisatvas, and the End of Rebirth

This essay is dedicated to the memory of
Urgyen Sangharakshita (1925-2018)
There is a pernicious trend in Buddhist historiography. It is the attempt to smooth out inconsistencies and present Buddhism as far more coherent and unified than it ever was in practice. A prominent manifestation of this is the idea that there really is no difference between the so-called "arahant ideal" and the so-called "bodhisatva ideal". While I'm sure that those who take this approach are sincere in their belief that playing down the differences is a worthy cause, it obscures the reasons the new idea emerged in the first place. Those reasons are intrinsically interesting.

In the last 20 years we have discovered a great deal more about the early Mahāyāna than was previously known. A great summary and assessment can be found in a pair of articles by David Drewes (2010a and 2010b). We now know, for example, that what we call Mahāyāna was actually a rather disparate group of ideas that took centuries to converge. It emerged in monasteries, in all likelihood alongside mainstream Buddhism (though, of course, Mahāyāna became the mainstream, eventually).

By about 200 BCE all Buddhists were starting to reject the early Buddhist  doctrines and to quietly rewrite or replace them. In my article on karma (Attwood 2014), for example, I traced the rejection of the idea that karma is inescapable. Later Indian Buddhists did not accept this constraint (niyāma) and modified the doctrine of karma to allow for the consequences of actions to be avoided. One mostly did this using religious practices, especially ritualised confession, though later simply chanting a mantra was thought to literally eliminate all evil karma.

I've shown in previous blog essays that all Buddhists found the sutta version of dependent arising wanting and rewrote it, especially where it appeared to interfere with the working of karma; i.e., where dependent arising says that consequences cannot outlive the conditions for their existence. When this ceases, that ceases.


Awakening as the End of Rebirth

It is repeatedly and frequently stated across the Pāli texts, that awakening is tantamount to the cessation of or the liberation from rebirth. "I will not be born again" is something that arahants frequently exclaim upon awakening. In the Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta (SN 56.11), often referred to as "the first sermon", the Buddha concludes his account of his awakening by saying:
ñāṇañca pana me dassanaṃ udapādi akuppā me cetovimutti. ayam antimā jāti. natthi 'dāni punabbhavo ti. (SN v.423)
This knowledge and vision arose for me: "My liberation of mind is unshakeable. This is my last birth. Now rebirth doesn't exist."
A more common refrain, heard across the Nikāyas is this one:
khīṇā jāti, vusitaṃ brahmacariyaṃ, kataṃ karaṇīyaṃ, nāparaṃ itthattāyā ti
Birth is ended; the religious life is fulfilled; the task is completed; I'll never be reborn.
No doubt there are variations on these as well, but there is no need to search them out. It is clearly understood that awakening is synonymous with the end of rebirth. So whatever else happens to a tathāgata after death, they are not reborn. And the reason for this is found in the nidāna formulation of dependent arising. For example, in Dasabala Sutta (SN 12:21), “from ignorance as a condition, there is volition” (avijjāpaccayā saṅkhārā), from volition as a condition, there is discrimination (saṅkhārapaccayā viññāṇaṃ)” and so on, up to, “from the condition of birth, there is aging and death” (jātipaccayā jarāmaraṇaṃ), which is said, in this case, to be the origin of the whole mass of suffering (evametassa kevalassa dukkhakkhandhassa samudayo hoti)” (SN ii.28). In the suttas (re-)birth is synonymous with dukkha. To be born, even as a deva, is to suffer. To end suffering one must be completely extinguished (pari-nibbāṇa). Thus the tathāgata is never coming back and that is the way it must be or awakening is not an escape from suffering.

This escape was cause for celebration in the early days of Buddhism. The Buddha was the first man to escape suffering, by escaping rebirth. And in this myth the Buddha shares some features with Yama. We think of Yama as the King of Hell (naraya), but as I showed in my essay on him, he is not a god, but rather a Brahmanical culture hero. Yama's claim to fame is that he was the first man to find his way to the ancestors in the sky (svarga) after death, i.e., to the pitṛloka or "world of the fathers". Yama opened the door to a cyclic afterlife. This is significant, because no other Indo-European culture has a cyclic eschatology (Plato's speculations aside, the Athenian afterlife was not generally cyclic). A cyclic afterlife appears to be a regional feature of cultures in the sub-continent. 

The myth of Yama shows the Vedic speaking people adopting this eschatology into their mythos. To be more precise, it shows the Vedic patriarchy adopting the myth - we have no idea how women were placed in this scheme because they are not mentioned. The Vedas are the literature of a group of men who barely gave a thought to women. The Bṛhadāranyaka Upaniṣad is antinomian for many reasons, not least because it shows some women claiming and receiving equal status with the leading male protagonist.

The Buddha is hailed in Buddhist mythology as opening the doors to the deathless by none other than Brahmā, the creator god of the Brahmins of the late Vedic period. The doors to the deathless are open and the Buddha left hundreds, if not thousands of followers behind who were also liberated from rebirth. Many of them had their own students numbering in the thousands. The presence of the Buddha was not necessary while living arahants were able to teach those with "but a little dust in their eyes". Buddhism ought to have prospered on this model. But it did not. And we have no good accounts of why.


The Collapse of Early Buddhism

What is seldom if ever acknowledged is that the Buddhism of the Pāli suttas did not last. It did not do what was needed for the societies in which it persisted. It was once thought that the Mahāyāna was a radical departure from monasticism introduced by lay Buddhists. But this has been put to rest. Mahāyāna grew out of the the monastery. In the early Mahāyāna sūtras the term bodhisatva is applied to full-time, hardcore meditation practitioners aiming at awakening. And this shows that awakening was still seen as a potential, if hard won goal. Amongst the mainstream sects the interest was in the analysis of mental events and theorising about how they contributed to bondage or liberation. Many schools were primarily focussed on śāstras or commentaries which attempted to make something coherent from the dog's breakfast of the Nikāyas. Before the advent of Protestant Buddhism in the 18th and 19th Centuries, all Buddhist sects were primarily focussed on śāstra rather than sūtra; even those sects which advertised themselves as being focussed on sūtras (like the Lotus Sutra sects) still relied on commentaries.

The received tradition was sometimes simply rejected, but more often than not the commentaries present themselves as essentializing the Dharma. By this I mean they present a coherent, and therefore highly partial, account as the whole of the Dharma. What the Buddha (is reported to have) said becomes less important than what he meant,  and many people were happy to tell the world what he meant. The rise of the śāstra literature meant that the confusion, incoherent, contradictions, and conflicts of the early Buddhist texts were set aside in favour of a unified view. The problem was that there were at least a dozen different unified views by the beginning of the Common Era.

The Theravāda often collude with naive scholars in pretending to represent early Buddhism. They don't. Modern Theravāda is just that, modern. As with all the other sects, Theravādin monks for many centuries mostly studied Abhidhamma commentaries when they studied at all - even when they spent their lives copying out Pāli texts. They had given up on meditation and they have given up on awakening. As Peter Masefield outlines in his book Divine Revelation in Pali Buddhism (1995), the view had arisen (despite considerable literary evidence to the contrary) that the presence of a Buddha was required for people to awaken. A Buddha was special in being self-awakened (so to speak), but everyone else needed the physical presence of a Buddha. After the Buddha's death, Masefield argues, no more arahants were liberated. Monks did memorise suttas, but they were chanted as magic spells at ceremonies and rites.

Against this we have to weigh the fact that many of the prominent modern Western Theravādin bhikkhus are connected to Thai and Burmese traditions that re-invented meditation in the 18th and 19th Centuries. These monks have long believed that their reinvented tradition maps onto what is found in the suttas preserved in Sri Lanka (though the bhikkhu lineage of that country died out and had to be re-established from Burma twice).

This situation of revised and essentialised teachings was still apparently unsatisfactory to Mahāyānists. There is no normative account of why this was so. However, I can offer my own explanation for this. I think it all begins with the absence of the Buddha. 


The Absent Buddha

The arguments I outline below derive from reverse engineering. By looking at the form that innovations take we can get an idea of what problem they were trying to solve. And there is a common thread to many of these innovations. And it is the problem of the absence of the Buddha. It was in this context that new figures began to emerge in the Buddhist imagination as replacement Buddhas, but designed without his "flaws" in mind. Because when Mahāyāna sūtras disparage the arahants, the real target is the father-figure who left and never returned. 


Pure Land

Consider the Pure Land schools. The earliest Pure Land Sūtra featured Buddha Akṣobhya in his Pure Land Abhirati. As Jan Nattier (2000) has shown, getting into Abhirati was hard work. Then came Amitābha living in Sukhāvati and he made it easy. The two Sukhāvativyūha Sūtras introduced the idea that one only need call his name in devotion and he'll meet you at death and guide you to Sukhāvati where everything was arranged to perfection (according the patriarchy of the day).

Take a step back and consider the form of this doctrinal innovation. It is predicated on the idea that Śākyamuni is dead and not coming back, and that the next Buddha Maitreya is not going to arrive for some billions of years. We are on our own. Part of the problem is that early Buddhists instituted a rule that there could only be one Buddha in any world at a time. The cultural evolution of the world followed a set pattern. The Buddhadharma had to flourish and die out before a new Buddha could be born to rediscover the Buddhadharma from scratch, since this is a defining feature of a Buddha. The main effect of this invented doctrine is that it raises the prestige of the so-called historical Buddha to its zenith. 

I showed, in my article on karma, that raising the prestige of the Buddha was a central concern for Buddhists. Over time, the Buddha became more magical and powerful until he was effectively a god. The prototypical event for this observation was the meeting with Ajatasattu. In the Pāli versions the king is doomed by his patricide. But in the later Mahāyāna retelling, the king is saved from his own evil karma by meeting the Buddha. The mere presence of the Buddha purifies him of patricide - one of the five unforgivable karmas that result in immediate rebirth in Hell.

The unforeseen consequence of gradually raising the prestige of the Buddha is that it began to appear to make awakening in his absence impossible. And his absence was an established fact. The authors of the Pure Land texts, some of the earliest Mahāyāna texts, simply invented parallel universes with immortal Buddhas who could arrange for us to jump the tracks and be reborn in this alternate universe - the apotheosis of the Buddha. While Akṣobhya was a task-master, Amitābha was a soft touch. He only required your devotion. We know the metaphysics of this set up. Amitābha is a god, pure and simple. Sukhāvati is Heaven. We are sinners who can only be saved via the intervention of an external agency (or "other power") not touched by the sin of the world. 

Pure Land became one of the leading forms of Buddhism in the world and remains in that position some 2000 years later. The reasons for its popularity are not hard to fathom. It is an undemanding form of Buddhism, most of the work is done for you by an magical immortal father figure, in the afterlife. He just wants you to love him and most of us love our Daddy (or want to). 


The Evolution of the Bodhisatva

It's too early I think to have a proper history of the bodhisatva since we are really just getting used to the new information about their true relevance in early Mahāyāna. But we can take a similar reverse engineering approach to the mature concept of bodhisatvas like Mañjuśrī, Vajrapāṇi, or Avaklokiteśvara. The most important feature of the mature concept of the bodhisatva is that they are enlightened but take rebirth.

Why do we need the awakened to come back? On one hand the answer is obvious. We want our loved ones to come back to us. The Vedic speakers were entranced by the aboriginal Indian idea that after death one would be reborn amongst one's ancestors just as many Westerners are in love with the idea of people "coming back". We have an incurable nostalgia for the dead. We want to see them alive and well again. Belief in an afterlife has been linked to burying bodies with grave goods, the practice of which is arguably as old as modern humans, if not older (though the first undisputed evidence dates from around 40,000 years ago).

On the other hand, it speaks to a deep seated insecurity. Living teachers simply did not create the required confidence in the Buddhist population of India. And this can have two main causes. Firstly, the standard of teaching may have declined, leaving students doubting the efficacy of their practice regimes. Secondly, and I think more likely, is that the placing the Buddha on a pedestal to raise his prestige had a detrimental effect on Buddhist communities. The higher the Buddha got, the lower human teachers were and the closer relatively to their human students.

This problem is not particular to India or Buddhism. When you raise the goal of religion to the zenith and talk about it in absolutist terms; when the goal is perfection, then no human being can ever come close. In fact, even if most teachers are fantastic, the one who goes bad seems to taint all of them. In this process, the goal becomes unreachable and any attainments that humans do achieve are down played by comparison to perfection; while imperfects that show up confirm suspicions.

So yes, we do see arahants being talked down to and mocked in degrading fashion in some Mahāyāna sūtras. Perhaps this is not because they are not awakened; they are arahants, after all, and thus very much awakened. Perhaps it is because they fall short of some imaginary perfection that has been set up in opposition to mere human awakening. That is to say, it is not because people were falsely claiming to be arahants as is sometimes suggested, but that Mahāyānists allowed themselves to be fooled into thinking that perfection was attainable on some level, just not by human beings. Mahāyāna is delusional in the way that all theology is delusional. It sets up an impossibly high standard, insists on judging people (harshly) by that standard, and in the absence of any human exemplars, transfers its devotional feelings onto imaginary magical beings.

The result is the classic matter/spirit duality.  I have discussed this in some detail in the past, analysing the metaphors involved and showing how they form an interlocking set of ideas that self-reinforce (like a cybernetic feedback loop). I also extended this in a series of essays on the idea of "spiritual" looking at the language and power relations involved in organisations which frame themselves as "spiritual" (see Bibliography). This duality has powerfully shaped all religions which tend to favour the (imaginary) spirit side of the equation. 

In some forms of Buddhism, this duality contrasts the bodhisatvas as pure beings made of light with dirty humans made of shit. For example, Śāntideva goes on an extended rage about the disgusting human body in his celebrated work on Mahāyāna, the Bodhicaryāvatāra. It covers two pages in the definitive translation by Skilton and Crosby. The language is harsh and hate-filled. Buddhists attempt to excuse the tirade as a skilful means (upaya) but to me it is inexcusable; the epitome of unskillfulness. It is born out of a deep-seated hatred based on a matter-spirit duality.


Other Approaches

I think these two examples demonstrate the principle. We might also cite tathāgatagarbha doctrine, as a way of making the Buddha present in his absence. Or the passage from early on in the Golden Light Sutra in which the Buddha is proclaimed to be immortal (he only appeared to die). Or the idea of everything being interpenetrated by the dharmakāya, the true form of the Buddha, magically above change and decay (i.e., permanent). Or the idea that one can imagine oneself to be a Buddha already and magically transform oneself into a Buddha in reality (while avoiding delusions of grandeur and other mental problems).

We also know that around the same time the first images of the Buddha appear in Gandhara and Mathura. In the 2nd century BCE, the Greco-Bactrian kingdom of Gandhara had been conquered by a group of pastoralists known by their Chinese ethnonym 月氏 Yuèzhī. They appear to have had caucasian features (judging by portraits on coins) and to have spoken an Iranian language. However they also adopted many local norms as well, including, possibly, the Buddhist religion. The resulting Kushan Empire was a melting post of Persian, Greek, Yuezhi, and Indian ideas, attitudes, and practices. Perhaps it was coming into contact with theism (Zoroastrianism) that made the Buddhists in that region aware that the absence of the Buddha was problematic? In any case it was amidst this milieu that images of the Buddha as a man were first made. 

Having identified the pattern we can see how it makes sense of a range of innovations over time.


Presence

Everywhere Buddhists demand the presence of the Buddha or they resign themselves to despair and give up on awakening (as the Theravādins did before they reinvented meditation). And this is no accident. Where do we find a principle of required presence in Buddhism? We find it precisely in the doctrine of dependent arising. The idea was initially to describe the arising of suffering in the presence of sense experience. And it does an OK job of this for an Iron Age idea. But before long Buddhists began to treat it as a theory of everything. It is as though a Freudian were to argue that the world is structured into world-ego, world-id, and world-super ego, and that cosmic sex is the driving force of every process in the universe. For all I know there are Freudians who think like this, but I bet they have never tried to rewrite the equations of classical mechanics to show how sex is the basic force in the universe.

Once you take dependent arising to be a theory of everything then it is only logical that awakening requires the presence of an awakened teacher. Because without the necessary condition, the effect cannot arise. But the underlying condition for all awakening in Buddhist mythology is the Buddha. If this is so then the presence of a Buddha is a requirement for a world in which there is awakening.

We don't know how the argument went because the Mahāyānists did not show their working. They might have reasoned that since there are awakened people then a Buddha must be present somehow, and since that Buddha is not physically present he must be present in some other form: corporeal in a parallel universe, or incorporeal in ours. Or they might have reasoned from the physical absence of the universe combined with a desire that awakening were possible again, believing that it currently was not.

However, this way of thinking also misunderstands awakening. No matter how many different ways we say it, Buddhists always end up thinking of extinction as something; or as arising. Cessation is the right word. The point is that sensory experience stops when we withdraw from attention from it. Trivially, if I am focussed on writing, the outside world fades from my mind. And, more profoundly, when we use concentration techniques to bring about the complete cessation of sensory experience, aka emptiness. The use of emptiness as a metaphor was about the worst road Buddhists could have taken. It was a disastrous philosophical blunder because it led to Buddhists thinking of emptiness in metaphysical terms rather than as the simple absence of sense experience. 

Absence of sense experience is essential to awakening. And yet we made Buddhism all about the presence of the Buddha. The former is Buddhadharma, the second is mere religion (and no better than any other religion which invokes the presence of a father figure). 


Conclusion

Arguments, scholarly, religious, or increasingly both, that seek to minimize the distinction between arahant and bodhisatva, however sincere in their motivation, damage our understanding of the history of ideas in Buddhism. Such approaches actively prevent us from asking interesting questions about why Buddhism changed and if we never ask the questions, we never answer them. Whether or not the new ideas were totally novel or evolutions is of course interesting. And yes, we can often find precursors in the Pāli texts; texts that were composed and edited over centuries that overlapped with the emergence of the new doctrines. 

We scholars, especially, have to resist the urge to bowdlerise our presentations of the history of ideas in Buddhism. However, Buddhists can also benefit from an interest in the actual history of our religion. We cannot understand a cultural phenomenon (or really a set of phenomena) if we refuse to see anything that sits outside normative accounts. To be sure, the real story is complex and convoluted. It does not fit neatly into a six week university teaching block. But it is worth telling nonetheless.

Let's face it, what makes history interesting is conflict. Without it, history is boring. Pretending that there was no conflict in Buddhist history is a gross mistake. Sure, religions all present significant figures as saints, but so what? This is not interesting at all, because people are not saints. The fact that all Buddhists repudiated the teachings that had been ascribed to the Buddha is perhaps the most interesting fact about Buddhism. But no one ever says that this is what happened. The least interesting story—the hagiographical version—dominates both academy and temple. Yawn. The story is trite, tedious, and simply untrue. The telling of it tendentious and smacks of insecurity. All too often it is the rhetoric of persuasion rather than the rhetoric of truth.

We have to be willing to see change ("everything changes") and to ask why things change. Cultures and doctrines change for reasons and it only seems reasonable to enquire as to those reasons. Buddhism is not special in this regard. We need to be willing to face up to the fact that the Buddha died and is not coming back. 

Sadly, my teacher Sangharakshita died this week, aged 93. He had a good life, all things considered: he was a good friend to hundreds of people and he inspired hundreds of thousands of people to practice the Buddhadharma (our movement operates in India where social movements happen on vast scales). I'm not suggesting that he was a saint, but on balance he did a great deal of good and most people who met him were glad of it. He was loved. But he's gone and he's not coming back. As I loved him, so I mourn, but I'm not interested in fantasies of his reincarnation and return. I don't want false comfort. The Triratna Buddhist Order is well placed to carry on providing a context for practising the Buddhadharma that combines a good deal of tradition with some conscious modernism. We could do better, but Sangharakshita gave us a robust organisation. Succession is long settled and nothing much will change now that his suffering is ended. Now is the time for practice. 

vayadhammā saṅkhārā appamādena sampādethā
All experience is perishable; sensual sobriety is the way to succeed.
(the supposed last words of the Buddha. DN ii.156) 



~~oOo~~


Bibliography

Attwood, Jayarava. 2014. Escaping the Inescapable: Changes in Buddhist Karma. Journal of Buddhist Ethics, 21, 503-535.

David Drewes. 2010a. Early Indian Mahāyāna Buddhism I: Recent Scholarship. Religion Compass 4/2: 55-65. DOI:10.1111/j.1749-8171.2009.00195.x https://www.academia.edu/9226456/Early_Indian_Mahayana_Buddhism_I_Recent_scholarship

David Drewes. 2010b. Early Indian Mahāyāna Buddhism II: New Perspectives. Religion Compass 4/2: 66-74. DOI:10.1111/j.1749-8171.2009.00193.x https://www.academia.edu/9226471/Early_Indian_Mahayana_Buddhism_II_New_perspectives

Masefield, Peter. 1995. Divine Revelation in Pali Buddhism. Paul & Co Pub
Consortium.

Nattier, Jan. 2000. "The Realm of Aksobhya: A Missing Piece in the History of Pure Land Buddhism". Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 23 (1), 71–102.

Skilton, A and Crosby, K. 2008. The Bodhicaryāvatāra. Oxford University Press
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