20 May 2016

The Problem of Relativism

"Reality at its deepest level could be something utterly different than we have ever imagined, but we still have a good handle on how it behaves in front of our noses." 
- Sean Carroll, Fear of Knowing.

In previous essays I have tried to address some of the common complaints about scientific knowledge. I've looked at the common pejoratives wheeled out by apologists for traditional Buddhism, i.e. Physicalism, Materialism, and Scientism (08 August 2014); I've tried to show that Schopenhauer could not have "refuted Materialism" before he died in 1860, as one of my Order colleagues claimed (Vitalism: The Philosophy That Would Not Die. 23 May 2014); and I've looked at The Limitations of Transcendental Idealism (1 Apr 2016).

These are among the most frequently cited reasons that, for example, we cannot rule out an afterlife, a just-world, or other metaphysical speculations that are foundational to traditional Buddhism (and of course to other religions). There is a powerful, coherent argument can be put forward which, even admitting massive limitations to our knowledge about the universe, none-the-less refutes any possible afterlife (There is No Life After Death, Sorry. 23 Jan 2015) and by extension any kind of supernatural entities or forces. However, many people still refuse to admit the salience of such arguments to their worldview. In other words it's not that they disagree with the argument, but that they believe the argument is irrelevant. This is entirely in line with the predictions of evolutionary approaches to studying religion (Facts and Feelings. 25 May 2012). This distinction between the truth of a proposition and its salience in decision-making is a dynamic that has informed my thinking and writing for some time now. 

A proposition can be more or less accurate and precise, but this may have no correlation to the salience that any individual or group gives it in their worldview.  Since the factual accuracy of mainstream science is now undeniable, critics of science and anti-intellectuals usually attack arguments against the existence of an afterlife or a just-world at the level of salience. For example, they may not even feel compelled to engage with the content of an argument in detail because "it is Materialist". Repeating this mantra resolves the matter for them. Dualists hold it axiomatic that studying matter tells us nothing about consciousness, because consciousness is a different kind of stuff. In this view our knowledge of brain activity is all very interesting, but not salient to the understanding of consciousness under any circumstances, no matter how many correlations we identify. All empirical knowledge of the brain is simply ruled out of bounds in the discussion of consciousness, because in their worldview conciousness is not accessible empiricism. If the Dualist also accepts rebirth as an article of faith, which many Buddhist Dualists do, then this anti-enlightenment argument serves the purpose of defending Buddhist metaphysical speculation about the afterlife. 

I've tried to field these objections by attempting understanding what it is like to hold a Dualist view and the reasons that such propositions remain valid to some people and how they affect the salience of Naturalist arguments (see e.g. Why Are Karma and Rebirth (Still) Plausible (for Many People)? 14 Aug 2015). But there is one pernicious criticism of science that I've not yet tackled. This is Relativism. Relativism is a view which states that a quality like "truth" is always relative to a given frame of assessment; and that there is no framework independent vantage point from which to make assessments claims to truth. (Cf. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy).

No personally I find the legacy arguments about "truth" unhelpful. If I make an assertion about the world then it can be an accurate description or prediction; it can be precise; and it may have inherent error. All our observations about the world have these three properties, i.e. accuracy, precision, and error, and thus I do not try to invoke the true/false dichotomy. I'll deal with these qualities in more detail below.

Relativism got a massive boost from European philosophy in the 20th Century. Post-Modernists argued that the meaning of a text is not fixed but created by the reader. In effect the author may think they are writing one thing and the reader may entire disagree and think that the text means something else. Anyone trying to engage in rational debate on the internet will know what I mean. One finds that that people read the most bizarre assumptions into and take the most outrageous inferences from what one writes. But the post-modernists also argued for the broadest possible definition of a text and application of this principle. This lead to a radical kind of Relativism in which it is held that no one could say anything definite about anything because anything could be considered a text and deconstructed. This inane argument is still a popular stance amongst certain university graduates.

Since Western intellectuals rejected Positivism, it is accepted that scientific theories cannot be proven to be true. And this is something I'm been trying to make more explicit in my spiel since I was bizarrely accused of being a Positivist by some philosophers. Scientific theories can never be true, in the strictest philosophical definition of metaphysical certainty, but they may be extraordinarily accurate and precise within the margins of error inherent in measurement. Take the example of the Higgs Boson. The media often portray this in terms of CERN and the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) project having proved the existence of the Higgs Boson. But this is not quite what happened. The standard theory predicted that a particle of a given energy would provide the mechanism whereby other particles responsible for the character of the weak nuclear force would exhibit the quality of mass (thereby explaining the extremely short range of the force). The mathematical models predicted that the particle responsible would have an energy in the range 110-140 GeV (a rather imprecise prediction). Once we had equipment capable of looking for particles in that energy range, in the shape of the LHC, we looked and found a particle. To date we know nothing more about the particle than that it is a boson, or force carrying particle, that has an energy of ca. 126 GeV*. It might be the Higgs Boson, it might not. It's possible that tomorrow someone will publish a theory which provides a better explanation of a boson with an energy of ~126 GeV, though the discovery does have to be taken alongside all the other predictions and tests of the theory with which it fits quite well.
* The two LHC detectors discovered a previously unknown boson with mass 125.3 ± 0.6 GeV and 126.0 ± 0.6 GeV respectively. It must be a boson because of how it decayed.

A sharp distinction between truth and falsehood is only relevant in the rarefied and abstract world of philosophy or in courts of law. Scientists deal in making predictions and measuring the accuracy of predictions to the best level of precision they are able, with the least amount of error. A theory which is consistently accurate is useful. My argument for why such theories cannot be wholly divorced from reality were made in The Limitations of Transcendental Idealism (1 Apr 2016). If reality were utterly different from how we conceive of it, we could not conceive of it. But the fact is that by careful measurement and comparing of notes, and through clever interpretation, we do know what reality is like at several different levels and are making progress on both the fundamental substance of the universe and the overall structure of it. In between, we now fully understand reality on the energy, mass and length scales of everyday life. The complexity of the weather makes it difficult to predict far in the future, but we know all of the forces and particles involved in creating weather. Reality is based on matter and energy and no new particles or forces are required to explain anything we see with our naked senses. Indeed there is no room for new particles or forces in our understanding of the world at this level.


Properties of Measurements

Apart from pointing out the irrational basis for it, one simple refutation of Relativism is that the laws of physics still apply even if we do not believe in them. It doesn't matter how you conceive of gravity or interpret it; it does not matter which culture you are from or what you studied at university: a 1000 kg weight dropped from 100 m will crush you like a bug. So even Relativists look both ways when crossing the road, apparently their interpretative framework allows for the working of physical laws even when their philosophy denies that this should be so.

All measurements have three properties: accuracy, precision, and margin of error. Let's imagine that I wish to measure an object that is exactly 1010 mm long. I have a measuring tape with increments of 1 mm. Thus the precision of the measurement is millimetres. The inherent error in the measuring tape (assuming it is accurately calibrated) is usually taken to be half the smallest increment, in this case ± 0.5 mm. Often the first step in taking a measurement is calibrating your instrument - this is a regular procedure in analytical labs for example. Accuracy is how close I get to real measurement. If the tape says 950 mm then that is not very accurate. If it says exactly 1010 mm that is very accurate. But in science we would still give this as 1010 ± 0.5 mm because our instrument has inherent error. For all we know it might have inherent imprecision as well. So we need to repeat the measurement using a different measuring tape or a completely different method as well and compare the results. One measurement is never sufficient. All science is like this.

Sometimes we can sacrifice precision because there is a large inherent error. If we are driving a car along a road is 100 km long, we don't gain anything by measuring our distance travelled in mm, because a car is several meters long in any case. A level of precision of tens of meters is fine for this purpose (and car odometers often have 100 metres as their smallest unit). It can get more complicated. Within a particular inertial frame, such as measuring the length of a road on earth, there are no relativistic effects so we don't need to take into account the relative velocities of the instrument and the object. We can just use classical mechanics to describe the situation because the lack of precision is insignificant compared to the margin of error. If the object I wish to measure is an alien spaceship passing the earth at 10% of the speed of light, then I would have to take into relativistic effects and change how I was interpreting the measurement, because objects appear longer when there is a large relative velocity between object and observer.

The kind of predictions that science makes about reality are really not dependent on interpretative frameworks to the extent that Relativists make out. For example, Einstein's equations predicted that the massless photon would follow a curved path near a massive object. As a massless particle the photon cannot be directly affected by gravity. Einstein proposed that rather than thinking about masses exerting a force on each other, that we we should think of mass bending spacetime. Since photons travel through spacetime, they ought to follow a path determined by the topology of spacetime, the curvature of which would be especially noticeable near a large massive object (like a planet or the sun). This prediction was tested quite early by watching stars near the sun during a total solar eclipse. The path of light from these stars came close enough to the sun for us to be able to measure the curvature caused by the sun's mass, with sufficient precision and margin of error, to show that Einstein's prediction was extremely accurate. Subsequent tests over a century have all demonstrated that Einstein's description of spacetime is accurate to the limits of precision and error available to us. None of this is dependent on where we grew up, or what language we spoke. Einstein wrote his famous papers on Relativity in German.

A photon will follow a curved path near a massive object whatever you believe to be true about the universe. Of course it is only in certain interpretative frameworks that one would even look for evidence of this prediction or count it as salient. In many ways this theory about photons moving in spacetime is not salient to daily life for the vast majority of people. The curvature of spacetime near the earth is so slight that for the purposes of daily life, light travels in straight-lines and we cannot see individual photons in any case. Beyond the physical facts, the curvature of spacetime may not be salient to the Relativist, because in their case being theory-laden prevents them from correctly assessing the salience of any observation. But such observations, repeated, argued about, and now widely agreed upon, are salient when we are considering how the universe works. If we conjecture, for example, that "the universe is moral", then accurate theories of how the universe works in practice are salient. If we conjecture that there is life after death and speculate on how information is conserved from life to life, then again, physics and chemistry are salient.

However, a major problem for Buddhists is that our theories on these subjects don't even stand on their own terms (e.g. The Logic of Karma 16 Jan 2015), let alone when we introduce the more demanding criteria of not violating robust physical laws. The internal logic of karma and rebirth are flawed even on the terms of Buddhists themselves. This is not an original observation of mine, although I did come to this conclusion independently. Nāgārjuna made this observation about mainstream theories of karma and rebirth in the 2nd Century CE. According to Nāgārjuna such propositions cannot possibly be paramārthasatya or ultimate truth. Ultimately there cannot be karma and rebirth, because both violate more fundamental Buddhist axioms about the world. To the best of my knowledge there is no effective counter to this argument from either Theravāda or other Mahāyāna Buddhist sects. Pureland Buddhists have been avoiding the karma problem for at least 2000 years by allowing Amitābha to intervene to save us from our karma. Nor did Vasubandhu and the Yogācārins find the solutions available to them in the 4th Century CE any better, leading them to introduce major innovations into the theory, specifically the ālayavijñāna an ad hoc, block-box solution that provides continuity without being effected by phenomena. The ālayavijñāna this looks every bit like an ātman or like the puruṣa of Sāmkhyadarśana.

But let us return to the present day and the arguments against trendy modern Relativism.


The Solipsistic Fallacy

One of the key Relativist arguments is to point out that observations are always "theory laden", i.e. we unconsciously interpret what we see before we ever report it. While this is accurate to some extent, it also fallaciously insists that everyone is a solipsist who never compares their observations with other people. This fallacy is so common that it needs a name. We can call it the solipsistic fallacy. Because of the solipsistic fallacy, Relativists effectively argue that we cannot identify the problems associated with interpretation by the simple expedient critically comparing notes. In the most extreme version of Relativism each individual is free to interpret any information from their own point of view. In this view, not only is there no truth, but there is no accuracy either, since the accuracy of any theory supposedly depends on the interpretative framework of the observer. This extreme version of Relativism is clearly nonsense, since it amounts to a form of Idealism in which we have no access to other minds and comparing notes wouldn't help even if we could do it.

The solipsistic fallacy genuinely is a fallacy precisely because we can compare notes. Any one with a small telescope can look at Jupiter and confirm Galileo's 1610 observations of the motions of its major satellites. By comparing notes we can identify which aspects of perception are down to the individual and which are not. If we can identify what comes from our interpretations, we can account for that and eliminate it from our understanding of the world around us. We can also design apparatus to respond to the world in ways that we cannot, such a X-ray or gravity-wave detectors. And we can use different apparatus to eliminate the bias due to our designs, which is why the LHC has two main detectors and why the results confirmed by both types of detector are so compelling.

So yes, our individual observations are theory laden. Observation is always accompanied by interpretation to some extent. If two people observe something they may not interpret it the same way and if they compare notes a discussion ensues, something that is not possible according to the solipsistic fallacy. That discussion is on-going and involves everyone on the planet, including millions of scientists who receive training in making and interpretation of observations. Some of the resulting knowledge is so well established that spending time doubting it is irrational and unproductive.


Interpretative Frameworks & Incompleteness.

Relativism is still attractive to anti-Enlightenment thinkers because it allows them to deny the salience of empirical knowledge and avoid the conclusions of such knowledge, even when it is completely irrational to deny the accuracy of empirical theories. It generally works at a tribal level in academia or is projected onto cultures. So, humanities scholars who cannot rationally deny the accuracy of physical laws, will deny their salience because they don't accept the worldview (or what they call "the interpretative framework") of scientists. Or they might argue that the worldview of the tribes of the New Guinea highlands is an equally valid interpretation of the world.

For Buddhists the argument usually turns to the validity of metaphysical speculations regarding the myths of the just-world (karma) and the afterlife (rebirth). If one rejects Materialism and all that goes with it on the basis of a belief in these myths, then scientific knowledge is automatically non-salient to the discussion of the validity of the myths. Traditionalist Buddhists use this manoeuvre to argue that any argument against their view based on physical reality is axiomatically invalid; in doing so they either explicitly or implicitly invoke a non-physical reality which can paradoxically interact with the physical reality with real, but at the same time undetectable consequences. "Beings" are able to move between these two realities because in essence we are non-physical. Note that not all reductionism aims at physical monism consistent with science. This is one reason arguing with religieux is so unsatisfying. Nor can one apply the method of asking for evidence, since the very method of empiricism is aimed at physical reality and can deemed outside the sphere of salience for non-physical reality.

Buddhist arguing for their myths cite the salience of propositions such as long tradition ("no Buddhist has ever disputed the idea of karma"), interpretations of scripture ("the Buddha believed in rebirth"), common sense, ("it makes sense to me that death is not the end of life") and personal experience ("my meditation experiences lead me to conclude that death is not the end"). The comments in parentheses are paraphrases of actual arguments Buddhists have offered to me in response to my questioning of the Buddhist tradition. Over the last couple of years I've dealt with many of these objections at least in passing. These are extremely weak arguments for very strong metaphysical conclusions. 

The fact is that scientists do not always share interpretative frameworks and frequently point out deficiencies in each other's methods where they have allowed bias to impinge. Where methods are acceptable, scientists also argue about how best to interpret observations. If they are well enough informed to know this, however, the Relativist may employ another manoeuvre to turn the tables. These very disagreements amongst scientists, and the fact that scientific paradigms change from time to time, are cited by Relativists as evidence that science is contingent on interpretative frameworks. The strength of such disagreements is often underplayed at the level of popular science and this bolsters the Relativist argument because they see the exposing of disagreement as undercutting the authority of science. This is a superficial argument.

I have often cited the article by Dan Sperber and Hugo Mercier in which they show that reasoning does not come into play until there is an argument. Thus argument is actually essential to the progress of knowledge. It does mean that at the bleeding edge of knowledge production there is more uncertainty. But as time goes on the arguments and critiques shakedown the theories and those that do not stand up to scrutiny fall away or are modified. As Sean Carroll has recently said,
"... emphasizing the tentative, always-subject-to-revision nature of science can be taken too far. Science has taught us some things, after all. The computer on which you're reading this really is made of atoms; future discoveries aren't going to reveal that the very idea of atoms was just some kind of mistake." - Fear of Knowing.
Today's scientific theories are more accurate and precise than yesterday's. Certainly science is not complete or entirely without disagreement and even controversy. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But we are ahead of where we were. The physics and chemistry of the level of every day life was completely understood.

However it is true that different culture view the world differently, which brings us to the subject of cultural relativity. 


Cultural Relativity

Let's stipulate that there is some culture which is thousands of years old, say a tribe of Elbonian hunter-gatherers who have never had any contact with a Westernised culture because they live in a remote place. At night, sitting around their camp fires, they look up at the stars and see what they take to be the surface of a curved dome, studded with twinkling lights. They know that there are supernatural beings participating in their daily life. A recent survey suggests that 100% of hunter-gathers are animists (Peoples et al. 2016) to whom this kind of conclusion is entirely intuitive. To the Elbonians the lights in the dome above are obviously supernatural beings sitting around their camp-fires in the sky. They don't doubt this and have believed it beyond living memory. It has been many hundreds of generations since any Elbonian questioned this "knowledge".

Relativists argue that this conjecture about the stars, which the Elbonians make, stands on an equal footing with the conjecture that the stars are far off suns like our own, great masses of gas that compress so much under gravity that the centre starts to undergo fusion and thus radiates vast amounts of energy. But the Relativists are simply wrong. The Elbonian theory of the stars makes inaccurate predictions and doesn't explain the observable phenomena. Admittedly the inaccuracy doesn't register at the levels of precisions and error that the Elbonians themselves can muster just by looking up at the sky, but the lack of available precision and the huge error involved do not render the theory accurate. These factors just mean that the inaccuracy is not salient for the Elbonians. 

We may grant that the knowledge of, say, the healing properties of local herbs accumulated by the Elbonians is quite useful. But without double-blind trials and careful elimination of the placebo effect we cannot say for sure that any particular herb is consistently associated with any effect. Even quite well educated and otherwise rational people believe in homeopathy, despite the fact that rigorous tests suggest that any efficacy attributed to homeopathy is down to the placebo effect. The elaborate process of identifying the appropriate remedy is in fact a ritual designed to set the scene for activating the placebo effect. Again the Relativist position is unhelpful because it denies that believing in homeopathy is a poor decision if there is a more accurate alternative explanation of disease and medicine. Testing shows that homeopathy gives results no better than placebo and the theory it is based on make inaccurate and imprecise predictions. All beliefs are not equal.

For example, when I went to India the first time one of our group took a homeopathic malaria remedy instead of the medicine recommended by and freely provided by the UK's National Heath Service. My colleague sincerely believed that had there been malaria-bearing mosquitoes he would be protected. It was too cold for mosquitoes most of the time. This was fortunate because his homeopathic remedy would not have protected him from the malaria parasite and serious, life-threatening illness. In this example we see that belief is definitely not neutral. What we believe about the world is important and may have life and death consequences. Relativists would have us believe that homeopathy deserves a place alongside modern medicine because people like my colleague (and the current Secretary for the Department of Health in the UK Government) choose to ignore all the evidence and sincerely believe in it. Science is not a matter of belief. It's a matter of degrees of accuracy. No matter how sincerely we believe in homeopathy it is an inaccurate theory in the sense that it does nothing to cure or prevent disease other than activating the placebo effect. And better alternatives are available in many cases. The theory of homeopathy prevents advocates from making this distinction. 

While we are on this subject, Relativists also like to use a very broad definition of the word "science" to include any accumulated knowledge. We can also say with some confidence that the Elbonian knowledge about herbs, though meticulously and carefully preserved, is not scientific knowledge. In cataloguing and using herbs the Elbonians are not doing science. Science involves more than just taxonomy or systematic use. A scientific theory tries to explain the efficacy of the herb and in so doing to contribute to a general understanding of the world. Such a theory must accord with existing theories about the world and make predictions that can be tested for accuracy.

Take the real world example of willow bark. If you have a toothache, chewing willow bark may well reduce the pain because it contains a precursor to aspirin (i.e. salicylic acid), a substance with proven analgesic effects. Simply knowing that chewing willow bark reduces pain and using it for that purpose is not an example of science. The science begins when we reflect on all the systematic knowledge that we have about the world and conjecture that a component of the willow bark interacts with our body's complex systems for registering pain; we set out to separate out the components and identify the active one; and then predict that related compounds will have a similar effect. We then synthesis those related compounds and test their analgesic properties and propose or refine a molecular theory of pain and analgesia. The theory has to be nested in with our other theories, with physics, chemistry, biochemistry, physiology, etc. If we create an ad hoc theory that is in conflict with other parts of the body of knowledge then this conflict must be resolved in one of two ways: either the ad hoc theory falls, or the mainstream does. It is almost always ad hoc theories that fall, but one or the other must happen. 

There are thousands of cultures around the world. Many of them have their own unique views about the stars, the healing properties of herbs, and the possibility of life after death. Relativists hold that each system of knowledge is valid on its own terms and that there is no external standard against which we can hold any system of knowledge to be better or worse. If we claim that reality is that standard, and science is the sum of our most accurate inferences about that reality, they may point out that this is simply our interpretative framework and our imperialist and probably racist mindset. This can be a difficult area because of our long European history of imperialism and racism. On the other hand science is truly international and transcends cultural boundaries. People of all cultures participate in the scientific project and are united by a commitment to application of the principles of scientific enquiry. 

There is an external standard by which we can judge claims to knowledge about the world. It is the mind-independent reality that we experience through our senses. We can accurately infer a great deal about this mind-independent reality by using the empirical methods I have already outlined. The case of the Elbonians shows that looking at the world through an interpretative framework can blind us to the nature of this reality. When we believe we know the answers, we don't ask questions. The ability to step outside our own worldview is really quite rare. But being blinded is not inevitable, one of the main reasons for this is that we can compare notes we people who have different interpretative frameworks and see whose theory makes the more accurate predictions. In this way we have come to know quite a lot about how the world is constructed and what it is constructed from at different levels.

On the other hand just because someone is wrong about God or the afterlife does not give us licence to feel or act superior towards them. Such views are widely held precisely because they are intuitive. And this seems to be because of the way our cognitive functions evolved. Hating someone who disagrees with us about metaphysics is about as rational as hating animals that have don't have opposable thumbs, or that do have wings. Just as in the concept of freedom of speech we defend the right of someone to say something we disagree with, in cultural terms there is no justification for looking down on cultures that have a different interpretative frame from us. We can even value another culture that we disagree with. I think many of us who started our education about Buddhism by learning about traditional Buddhism retain a feeling of respect for the original teachers of the traditions, even when we conclude that they got some things wrong. That I currently find karma and rebirth implausible does not diminish my feelings of gratitude and respect for my teachers for introducing me to the ideas, attitudes, symbols and practices of Buddhism, nor for the early Buddhists who words I read and study. As modern convert Buddhists we can, at least in theory, pay our respects to our cultural heritage and to our adopted religion. 


Conclusions

Physical Relativism is a false view. There is an external physical standard, though understanding it requires us to question our existing worldview and it can take some sophisticated technology to investigate it thoroughly. Our current state of knowledge is still partial and what we know is subject to the limitations of the precision and levels of error to which we can measure the properties of the world. But we know the macro-scale world very well. Sean Carroll has plausibly argued that "the laws of physics underlying everyday life are completely known." Cultural Relativism has serious limitations and when it conflicts with science as a modernist I side with science precisely because of this external reality. The collection of Buddhist traditions on their own terms are a remarkable and usually admirable product of pre-modern thinking with a veneer of modernism. I want to see a genuine synthesis of Buddhism and modernism. Taken to its logical conclusion, this synthesis will no doubt leave little of the traditional intact, but this will not be the first time this has happened in Buddhism. 

Moral Relativism is a much more difficult proposition because no one has yet identified any moral reality. But my argument here is not with moral Relativism, it is with the physical and cultural kinds. I think these arguments are best kept apart.

The accuracy with which one can measure one's predictions creates a divide between different groups. Philosophers seldom bother to look through a telescope or a microscope, let alone any more sophisticated apparatus. So their worldview is more constrained and their arguments less conclusive than they might be. They misunderstand the significance of the measurements being made by scientists. Similarly, scientists who are not trained to think about the implications of their measurements make mistakes like concluding that reductionism applies to both substance and structure when constructing explanations of the universe. Even if the accuracy of the measurement is stipulated there is still the problem of how belief alters the shape of our worldview by changing how we assign salience to them. An accurate measurement might be judged to have little salience because it conflicts with a cherished belief.

Indeed this can happen in science too. Max Planck once quipped that science proceeds one funeral at a time. There is now some evidence to suggest that this quip is an accurate prediction (Azoulay et al. 2015). Charismatic senior researchers do tend to stifle innovation and dissent in a field. The effect is like a large canopy tree in a forest, suppressing saplings. But then the researcher dies, and just as in the forest there is a rapid rise of saplings that have survived in their shadow (though not among those closest to the researcher). The point is that, yes, science is to some extent a hostage to human foibles, but in the long run the methods and institutions of science overcome these limitations. The same cannot be said of religious methods and institutions, which remain in thrall to cognitive bias and logical fallacy.

~~oOo~~


Bibliography

Azoulay, P., Fons-Rosen, C., and Graff Zivin, J. S. (2015) Does Science Advance One Funeral at a Time? NBER Working Paper No. 21788, December, 2015. http://www.econ.upf.edu/docs/papers/downloads/1498.pdf

Baghramian, M. and Carter, J. A. (2015). Relativism. Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophyhttp://plato.stanford.edu/entries/relativism/

Peoples, H. C., Duda, P. F. and Marlowe, W. (2016) Hunter-Gatherers and the Origins of Religion. Human Nature. 1-22. First online: 06 May 2016. DOI: 10.1007/s12110-016-9260-0.

06 May 2016

Karma and Rebirth: The Basics

For a couple of years now, I've been working on turning some of my essays into a book on Karma and Rebirth. It's slow progress, but the book is currently about 175,000 words with quite a bit more material to integrate. One of the things that I have not done is include a basic introduction to the subject. I was thinking readers of the book would already be Buddhists and so have some understanding of the subject or, if they needed an introduction, that they could read a book like Nāgapriya's, Exploring Karma & Rebirth (2004).

In the process of researching some of the gaps I've identified, I started to wonder if it might be better to have some kind of basic overview of the subject that is tailored to this book. For example, I nowadays locate Buddhism in a continuum of religious belief regarding such fundamental myths, as the just-world (or moral universe), the afterlife, the immortal founder, religious superheroes, and so on. Buddhists tend to have definite ideas about each of these myths and since I'm setting out to disrupt those ideas, why not make this clear and give some idea of why I would want to.

Composing my own introduction would also help to locate Buddhism in an appropriate historical and cultural context. Most other books on these topics pay too little attention to the religious spectrum and have a tendency to treat Buddhism as historically and culturally unique. On the other hand I try to keep up with and participate in the latest research on the history of Buddhism in India, so my introduction could incorporate information that has recently come to light.

There are so many different approaches to karma and rebirth, especially if we consider historical positions that are no longer current, and this historical perspective is important in the argument I develop in the book. Almost every detail of the various sectarian theories is disputed by other sects. For every detail that one might cite as being an aspect of the Buddhist doctrine of karma and rebirth, there are always seem to have been contradictory views. Several well known texts, e.g. Kathāvatthu, Mūlamadhyamakakārikā and Abhidharmakośabhāṣya, and many less well known texts, record disputes amongst the sects over doctrinal details, especially the mechanics of karma and rebirth. Some of these disputes are purely historical and almost no one remembers them or bothers to mention them. They occasionally receive attention from scholars of Buddhist doctrine, but the results of these studies tend not to end up in the kinds of books that Buddhist practitioners read. And to complicate matters we are seeing a rise in the production of sophisticated sectarian apologetics for taking the traditional myths of Buddhism as authentic or statements of fact. Religious leaders whose positions in life depend on articles of faith are feeling the challenge of secularism and science and responding with spirited defences of their superstitious beliefs.

The story of just how contested these doctrines were in the past is very important to those of us who wish to contest them in the present, because it undermines the false certainty that we often meet in traditional presentations of the Buddhist religion and modern apologetics. All too often the discussion about belief is shut down by those who wish to define a Buddhist as "someone who believes in karma and rebirth". And if you don't believe then "you are not a Buddhist". One of the leaders of the Triratna Movement, for example, has said "Without conviction that these are the essential mechanics of life, one will not practice the Dharma." (Subhuti 2007). I have (anecdotal) reason to believe that about half of our Order disagree with Subhuti on this point. I disagree with him. Many of us practice the Dharma convinced that karma and rebirth are nothing to do with the mechanics of Buddhism, let alone the mechanics of life; and an even larger number practice with unresolved doubts on these issues (i.e. with no conviction one way or the other). The untold history of disputes over these myths is important because it allows dissenters to see that they too are part of a long tradition of dissent. 

The attitude to Nāgārjuna is instructive. He was very critical of the mainstream views of his day and attempts to show that those views on karma and rebirth are incoherent. He particularly raises what I call the Problem of Action at a Temporal Distance, the problem that in karma theory, the consequences (phala) of an action necessarily occur long after the conditioning action cease, contravening pratītyasamutpāda, which requires the presence of conditions for causation to occur. Nāgārjuna banishes the whole business of karma and rebirth to the domain of relative truth (saṃvṛttisatya). From an ultimate perspective (paramārthasatya), according to Nāgārjuna, there is no karma, no agent (kartṛ), no result (phala), no one who experiences the result (bhoktṛ), and no rebirth (MMK 17.30). Now, I've read a number of explanations of this approach and they all baulk at accepting Nāgārjuna's dismissal of karma and, contradicting Nāgārjuna, restate the Mainstream Buddhist assertion that actions have real consequences. For example David J. Kalupahana concluded:
"The most significant assertion here is that the rejection of permanence and annihilation and the acceptance of emptiness and saṃsāra (or the life-process) do not imply the rejection of the relationship between action (karma) and the consequence." (1986: 55)
In other words, Nāgārjuna's ultimate rejection of karma and rebirth does not sit well with anyone who identifies with more mainstream Buddhist ideas. The dismissal has to be rationalised. For Kalupahana, raised in Buddhist Sri Lanka, the idea that the "relationship between action and the consequence" might break down seems to be inconceivable, although it is very difficult to construct any meaningful connection when we take a Buddhist approach, as my book shows. Nāgārjuna himself has shown that there is no way to connect action to consequence without resorting to eternalism. Belief trumps every other kind of argument in religion. And this may be why the metaphysically exuberant Yogācāra ideas about karma and rebirth eclipsed Nāgārjuna's metaphysical reticence outside of scholastic circles. Last time I raised this, someone pointed out that the Doctrine of Momentariness (kṣaṇavāda) gets around the problem, but this is debatable and I'll briefly say why below. 

In Buddhist arguments about karma and rebirth, metaphysical innovations and speculations abound, with most aimed at defending the doctrines from some internal threat as objections are raised from within the Buddhist community. As objections to doctrines of karma and rebirth appeared, those doctrines were modified in response. Many Buddhists see the doctrine of pratītya-samutpāda as the central Buddhist doctrine, the most identifiable idea associated with of Buddhism. In fact, this doctrine was frequently modified to deal with inadequacies in the doctrines of karma and rebirth, as in the Abhidharma "dharma" theories. If any doctrine is central to Buddhism it is that karma leads to rebirth and awakening means no more rebirth. Historically, karma was the priority.

The doctrines of karma and rebirth that are taught these days are the homogenised result of a few centuries of critical enquiry in early Common-Era India, followed by centuries of rote repetition of the surviving doctrines. There are four main versions of these doctrines in the modern world: Theravāda, Madhyamaka, Yogācāra, and Pure Land, though the view that any one person espouses may not respect the boundaries suggested by these labels. Modern views are often eclectic and syncretic. In the book I try to outline the most prominent Indian Buddhist theories of karma and rebirth including the four above as well as Vaibhāṣika and Sautrāntika views. Most sectarian views involve dismissing other sectarian views as incorrect, leaving almost nothing agreed upon beyond the bare fact that Buddhists believe in karma and rebirth.

This means that writing a completely non-controversial account of karma and rebirth that takes an historical perspective turns out to be incredibly difficult, if not impossible. My approach to introducing karma is to set out what I think the uncontested or uncontroversial aspects of the doctrines of karma and rebirth and then proceed to outline the points of contention. The latter takes a lot more space than the former and forms the bulk of this essay.


Karma and Rebirth Defined

My attempt at a non-controversial definition of Buddhist karma and rebirth is as follows:
Karma is the Anglicised word for the process that links consequences (phalavipāka) to actions (karman), as well as the actions themselves. Because karma does not immediately manifest as consequences, it accumulates over time. The main consequence of karma is rebirth (punarbhava), but karma may also manifest as sensation (vedanā). Rebirth is governed by a theory of how experiences arise, i.e. by dependent arising (pratītya-samutpāda). Enlightened people don't make new karma. When enlightened people die they are not reborn.
The doctrine of karma is the Buddhist version of the just-world myth and like other versions is tied to an afterlife in which the injustice of this life is balanced out. This myth produces a cognitive bias, in the Wikipedia definition:
"The just-world hypothesis or just-world fallacy is the cognitive bias (or assumption) that a person's actions are inherently inclined to bring morally fair and fitting consequences to that person, to the end of all noble actions being eventually rewarded and all evil actions eventually punished. In other words, the just-world hypothesis is the tendency to attribute consequences to—or expect consequences as the result of—a universal force that restores moral balance." 
If we replaced "just-world hypothesis" with "Buddhist karma" in this statement, we would have a serviceable definition of karma. All the major religions have a version of this myth. And yet the world clearly is not fair or just. Evil actions go unpunished and good actions go unrewarded. The idea that actions always have timely and appropriate consequences is debunked by lived experience. And this inevitably leads religions to link the myth of the just-world with the myth of the afterlife. Judgement and reward in the afterlife is how religions rationalise an unjust world.

The doctrine of rebirth is the Buddhist version of the Myth of the Afterlife. This myth is correlated with the cognitive dissonance associated with the knowledge of our own inevitable death. Life "wants" to go on, self-conscious beings consciously want to live forever but come to understand that they die. In the tension of the irresistible force (life) meeting the immovable object (death), the afterlife is born and thrives.

A seldom noticed feature of the Buddhism version of the afterlife is the bifurcation into a metaphysical narrative and a moral one. Buddhist metaphysicians have always stressed that the relation between us and our rebirths is governed by dependent arising (pratītyasamutpāda). This is first and foremost a description of how mental states arise, but is applied in all sort of other ways. Thus the one who acts is neither identical with or totally different from the one who experiences the consequences. The latter arises in dependence on the former. Buddhist moralists (often the same people in a different didactic mode) emphasise that actions have consequences for us. Many suttas and all jātakas explicitly relate how actions rebound on us in subsequent lives, or that what we now experience is the result of our actions in a past life. I conjecture that this moral version of the Buddhist afterlife is necessary because without a strong connection between action and consequence for the agent, morality is not possible. That this contradicts Buddhist metaphysics is not problematised in Buddhism teaching, it is simply that in switching from one mode to the other, Buddhists simply ignore the contradiction. I don't see this as a disputed teaching, since the ability to segue back and forth between metaphysical and moral discourses with respect to the afterlife seems to be universal.

Pure Land Buddhism completely circumvented karma by introducing the concept of a living Buddha from another universe responding to our cries for help. Now karma doesn't matter because it can all be over-ridden by Amitābha who, simply because we call his name, ensures a good rebirth and subsequent liberation. The magic of the name is so powerful that it can overcome aeons of bad karma. 

Everything else about karma and rebirth seems to be complex and disputed. There are a number of main areas of contention related to karma and rebirth. The next section of this essay will set out these areas.


Historical Disputes About Karma & Rebirth.


1. Action at a Temporal Distance is Forbidden by pratītyasamutpāda.

Solving the problem of karma's requirement of action at a temporal distance produced a great deal of innovation over the centuries, but ultimately the Doctrine of Momentariness (kṣaṇavāda; DOM) won the day. DOM comes in various flavours, e.g. Theravāda, Sautrāntika, and Yogācāra. All DOM variations involve the invention of ad hoc entities or processes to account for the continuity between action and consequence, e.g. dharmas always exist (sarva-asti-vāda); a carrier in the form of a "person" (pudgala-vāda); a 'carrier' in the form of vijñāna (Johansson, Waldron); a carrier in form of ālayavijñāna (Yogācāra). The most radical solution to this problem is Nāgārjuna's, already mentioned above, which was relegate all such questions to the realm of saṃvṛttisatya.

The Theravāda DOM proposes 24 different types of conditionality to account for the ways that dharmas need to function in order to preserve a working theory of karma. And it seems to work as long as there is only one action in one lifetime (to my knowledge no presentation of the Theravāda DOM ever deals with more than one action). With two or more actions it fails to sustain a connection between action and consequence, primarily because of the fundamental axiom accepted by Theravādins that the mind can only allow one citta at a time (discussed further below). Other DOMs reduced this list to just four types of conditionality. The Yogācāra DOM invents a new kind of entity to solve the continuity problems (see 3. and 4. below), i.e. the ālayavijñāna or store-cognition.

There are a whole raft of related series of problems. If karma accumulates how does it remain latent or dormant for such a long time and then become active, particularly in a DOM when dharmas are always active, if short lived? How does a karma "know" when to ripen? If it does not interact with our minds while dormant, how can it then become capable of interacting? The DOM solves these problems by making dharmas always active. This removes any latency and the need to know when to ripen. Dharmas produce identical dharmas, so their effects on our minds are constant.

However there is still the problem of death. Which I deal with separately below.


2. Temporality

DOM versions all assert as axiomatic that the mind can only process one citta at a time, we'll call this the Serial Processing Axiom (SPA). This vitiates the DOM because it cannot account for how we perceive change or succession. For example we could not perceive music or language the way we do if consciousness was truly momentary and not persistent over at least the immediately past moment In practice both require us to retain in mind multiple sense inputs covering many seconds or even minutes. Because of SPA, momentariness fails to account for the phenomenology of cognition. And this may be why the first chapter of the Mūlamadhyamakakārikā (MMK) is quite as tortuous as it is. Nāgārjuna, who apparently accepts SPA, is trying to account for the perception of change in a paradigm which cannot produce a coherent account. If we drop the axiom, then change is a simple matter of comparing the immediate past with the present - something that almost any animal with a brain is able to do. Mosquitoes and flies, for example, are adept at perceiving movement, making them very hard to swat.

Buddhist ideas in this area are also hampered by the reification of the grammatical categories present, past and future. The tendency was to talk about the past and the future as needing to have an ontological status. Nāgārjuna devotes a whole chapter of MMK to this thorny issue, but arguments over the reality or non-reality of past and future are doomed to failure. The trouble is karma. Indian Buddhists continued to struggle to relate present consequences to past actions - somehow an action in the past must continue to act as a condition for an event in the present, and present actions must be conditions for events in the future (else Buddhist morality fails). However, real and unreal do not apply in the domain of experience. The arrow of time is a notoriously difficult subject, but to be hampered by treating the past and the future as something other than aspects of experience makes it impossible. Past and future are all about how we experience a flow of events and the arrow of time.

Neuroscience does agree with Ābhidharmikas, and disagree with the sutta authors, that consciousness is not continuous and has a granular structure. However, it also suggests that the brain takes an appreciable time (ca. 250-500 milliseconds) for the brain to process sensory stimulations. Thus cognition is not momentary in the sense that the DOM argues for, but takes place over time. Neuroscience also argues for a massively parallel system of processing sensory data, in which our brains construct a gestalt from all the present sensory streams. 


3. Continuity During Sleep and Nirodha-samāpatti

This is another very specific problem within a DOM. If the required continuity between action and consequence is provided for by an uninterrupted series of conscious moments, then deep sleep and the cessation of mental activity in meditation when there is no consciousness of anything, present show-stopping problems. If there are no conscious moments, then connectivity between moments is broken and continuity between action and consequence is lost.

Theravādins and Yogācārins both adapted their DOM to account for this. The former invented the bhavaṅga-citta which they designed specifically to solve this problem: it's a post-hoc patch which only exists because of this problem. A bhavaṅga-citta is one a kind of mental activity that we are not aware of, hence it is sometimes translated as subconscious, though it should not be confused with the Freudian subconscious or the Jungian unconscious. The bhavaṅga-citta always has a single object which is set for life at rebirth by the re-linking mental activity (paṭisandhi-citta). It really only exists to provide for continuity and to interrupt if two moments of mental activity are potentially different, e.g. a kuśala mental event followed by an akuśala mental event requires the intervention of a bhavaṅga-citta which is avyakṛta or undetermined with respect to kuśala/akuśala.

Yogācārins also had to patch their DOM. In their case, the ālayavijñāna, was always present and provided the continuity at times when the mental lights were out. This drew the obvious criticism, that the ālayavijñāna was an ātman by another name, but Yogācāra weathered this criticism and persisted into the present. This pattern of post-hoc patches to theories is quite typical of the history of Buddhist ideas, especially where Buddhists were trying to explain their world rather than their experience.


4. Continuity Between Death and Rebirth

However, the potentially disastrous discontinuity for karma theory is death, because when a person dies their mental stream has to continue seamlessly in some other body in order to preserve the integrity of the just-world myth. Theravādins solved the problem of the death-discontinuity by making rebirth instantaneous, that is by defining reality to match theory. Death is defined in such a way as to deny the possibility of discontinuity. Here the reasoning is post-hoc, there cannot be an interruption of the stream of mental activity, therefore there is not an interruption. But this idea of instantaneous rebirth was hotly disputed.  

For Vaibhāṣikas, the idea that mental activity could cease in one place and instantly arise in another was illogical. Travelling from place to place takes time. Instantaneous travel was a miracle too far for them and so, along with other sects, they invented the interim realm (antarābhava) to account for the time it took. Unfortunately this gave rise to a whole new range of problems and disputes. Since the interim realm is not mentioned in any early Buddhist texts the status of it with respect to rebirth destinations (loka or gati) was called into question. If there was some kind of existence (bhava) between death and rebirth, what form did that existence take? Where the skandhas involved? How long did it last? Was there any contact between this interim realm and this world or the next?

Some modern Theravādins accept that there is an interim realm, which nullifies the traditional Theravādin orthodoxy regarding karma and rebirth. 

Some Buddhists took advantage of a mysterious form of existence attributed mainly to group (kāya) of devas called mind-made (manomaya), where kāya or sometimes nikāya means 'group'. Since kāya can also mean "body" some Buddhists reasoned that in the interim realm, the departed took the form of a mind-made body (manomaya kāya) which further came confused with the Hindu subtle body (liṅga-śarīra or sūkṣma-śarīra). Others noticed an obscure passage about conception requiring the presence of a gandharva. The gandharva is a minor deity in the Ṛgveda with possible roots in Indo-Iranian mythology, since a parallel term is used in the Old-Iranian language, though referring to something very different. Some Buddhists claimed that we take the form of a gandharva in the interim realm, though this sense of the word seems to be entirely unrelated to the divine musician of myth. Versions of the interim-realm existence involving a synthesis of these also exist, i.e. that the gandharva is a mind-made form. 


5. When and How Does Karma Ripen?

Karma is always closely linked to rebirth, in the sense that rebirth is the major consequence of karma. But there are variations on this. At least one sutta tells us that all karma is discharged at rebirth. Each time the slate with wiped clean. Other texts, especially the Jātakas, make it clear that karma in past lives can continue to manifest after many lives. Other texts seem to imply that karma may ripen in the moment or at least in this lifetime.

An early medieval Theravādin analogy for karma was with the regularity associated with seeds and plants. Karma produces appropriate results the same way that a rice seed produces a rice plant (bīja-niyāma) and produces it in a timely fashion, just as fruits ripen in due season (uju-niyāma). See comments on analogical reasoning below.

Rebirth is said to be in one of five realms. Or six realms. The realms of the devas and asuras were originally counted as one, which makes good sense because in all of the stories the devas and asuras all live and fight in heaven (svarga). However, Buddhists seem to have lost the sense of the Brahmanical myths that their early founders had incorporated and so separated devas and asuras into two different realms. Though this makes a nonsense of the existing myths, it does make for a slightly more sophisticated eschatology, in that more afterlife destinations allows the myth of the just world more freedom in addressing the wrongs of this world, for example, some texts says that people who are jealous go to the asura realm after death; whereas people who are saintly go to the deva realm. Other realms are associated with particular dispositions: greed with hungry-ghosts, ignorance with animals, anger with hell.


6. Is Karma Inevitable?

This question was the subject of my 2014 Journal of Buddhist Ethics article. As far as the suttas are concerned karma must inevitably ripen. It is inescapable. But for later Buddhists this strict criterion is negated or deprecated. Buddhists, especially in the Mahāyāna texts, introduce the idea that one can escape one's karma in a variety of ways. This is highlighted in the different versions of the story of the meeting between King Ajātasattu and the Buddha. In Pāḷi the King is doomed by his patricide to a long stay in hell. In other versions surviving in Chinese, the King is so blessed by meeting the Buddha that his karma is partially or wholly nullified and he does not end up in hell, but in one version is in fact liberated. I know of no recorded disputes on this major change in Buddhist doctrine, but as far as I know the inevitability of karma is still a tenet of Theravāda orthodoxy (though as we have already seen there are many unorthodox Theravādins), thus there is a potential dispute.

In my article I pointed to the Tantric practice of reciting the 100 Syllable Vajrasattva Mantra as the acme of the breaking of the inevitability criteria. Now, however, I realised that Pure Land Buddhism completed negated karma much earlier by allowing that anyone who is dedicated to awakening and brings Amitābha to mind to be reborn in Sukhāvati where the conditions are so favourable that liberation is guaranteed.


7. Is Everything That Happens Due to Karma?

The early Buddhist answer to this was an emphatic no. Many other factors are involved in conditioning our experience of the world. However, modern Theravāda apologists sometimes argue, following Tibetan Buddhist versions of karma, that those other types of condition only arise because we are born in a particular world (loka) and that rebirth is driven by karma, therefore ultimately all experience is the result of karma. 


8. What Constitutes an Authority in These Disputes?

In these debates about the details of karma and rebirth there was often a contest around what constituted an authority. For example the tradition Theravādin argument against the interim realm was that it is not mentioned in the suttas. The counter-argument put forward by Sujato is that certain passages may be interpreted as veiled references to the interim-realm. On the whole the Pāḷi Canon is not shy about the supernatural, so why it should be vague about the interim realm is unclear. Of course Buddhists continued to produce texts and as time went on the issue of the authenticity of newer compositions emerged. Abhidharma texts and śāstras such as the Yogācārabhumi or the Abhidharmakośabhāṣya began to be far more important and more authoritative for later Buddhists.

On the other hand sometimes logic did make an appearance (as in the argument about travelling through space instantaneously). More often reasoning was analogical, with analogies being largely drawn from nature. The problem of Action at a Temporal Distance was addressed by the analogy of the seed for example.  If one could argue that an unseen process, like karma, was exactly analogous to a natural process, like a seed becoming a tree, then that would suffice to settle matters in ancient India.


Modern Contributions

So far we have mainly outlined the unresolved traditional issues, with only a few references to neuroscience. The nature and extent of these traditional disputes are not well understood in the mainstream Buddhism of today. They are explored in a number of modern scholarly publications, but even there the importance of these disputes seems to be underplayed. To my mind these disputes are incredibly important to the history of Buddhist ideas because they undermine the consensus presentation of karma and rebirth as historically uncontroversial. In fact, almost every detail of the various ideas related to karma and rebirth is disputed, sometimes hotly and intemperately. Buddhists want to have karma and rebirth, but they cannot figure out how to make them work. Problems such as those outlined above become drivers of innovation and change in Buddhist doctrines. Modern apologists for karma and rebirth mostly don't understand the problems and thus don't address them, or at least are not able to address them in ways that would appeal to people outside their sect.

The fact that these matters were never satisfactorily settled in ancient India is highly relevant to modern discussions of the salience of karma and rebirth. This is because those who, like Subhuti, assert that practising the Dharma requires such convictions, gloss over the historical fact that conviction requires a coherent basis and there is no coherent version of karma and rebirth to base such conviction on. Conviction in this case requires ignorance of, or insensitivity to, these historical disputes. In other words any belief in karma and rebirth has to involve taking certain propositions on faith. 

These are the conclusions we come to from exploring the history of karma and rebirth in Buddhism, something very few sectarian Buddhists have done. We have not yet raised the question of how science affects the plausibility of karma and rebirth.

The very word 'science' activates the missile defence systems of Buddhists: the Materialist is a person-to-person missile that obliterates all arguments from science. Similarly with the Scientism or Reductionist missiles. Cluster-bomb-like attacks like Relativism or Cartesian Dualism are also activated and ready to be deployed. Tackling such objections from anti-scientists leads down a road in which the details of what we know about the universe are called into question and that becomes the subject of the debate rather than the beliefs in question. In a sense it is fair enough. Epistemological questions (how do we know something) are important, but they cut both ways. I am happy to explain how I know that the world at one scale is made up of atoms and that the forces that govern atoms are so well understood that no supernatural forces are relevant to questions of karma and rebirth (see There is No Life After Death, Sorry). If only a dualist could explain to me how they know that mind is made of some other stuff and how it manages to interact with material stuff. None can.

Really getting to grips with these kinds of meta-disputes takes a lot of time and energy. I have written some relevant essays and will be expanding on these as my book takes shape. I plan to tackle Relativism in a forthcoming essay. But let us, for the sake of brevity, stipulate that enough doubt has been cast on the objections that I may continue to explore the implications of science for karma and rebirth. I've been looking at this for some time now. I wrote a series of essays on Vitalism for example, and tried to show why Vitalism and Cartesian (matter/spirit) Dualism are a bad theories, i.e. that they don't make accurate or precise predictions.

But in the long run the laws of thermodynamics are decisive. There is simply no way for the information contained in the atoms of our bodies to be transmitted to a fertilised embryo in some remote womb. In order for this to happen the mainstream models of matter and energy, which are incredibly accurate and precise, would have to be completely replaced by another set of theories that were at least as accurate and precise, and yet allowed for some supernatural influence. Unfortunately the people attacking the science arguments are not themselves scientists and have no interest in replacing the laws of physics.

My understanding is that we now understand enough about physics and chemistry to rule out any relevance for supernatural entities or forces interacting with our world. They either can't interact or they interact so weakly with the atoms in our bodies that they are undetectable and thus cannot observably affect our minds. There is no observed behaviour of matter at the scales relevant to karma and rebirth that requires any more explanation than what the standard models provide. In addition, though study of the mind is still in its infancy, we also know enough to know that no experiences require any supernatural or matter/spirit style dualism to explain. Supernaturalism, Dualism and Vitalism just don't offer us any insights into the world or our experience. As theories they don't make accurate or precise predictions, and they have little in the way of explanatory power. We can confidently set them aside and get on with trying to understand the world through mainstream physics and chemistry. 

Scientific theory and observation is certainly incomplete. We do not understand everything about our world or our minds. But we understand a good deal. What is seldom acknowledged by advocates of failed supernatural theories is that they have even larger explanatory gaps. The supernatural is always a worse explanation for an experience than a natural explanation or no explanation. Some things do remain unexplained and thus it is always better to admit ignorance than to assert that something can be explained when it cannot. The supernatural fails to explain what it purports to explains. There is no longer any good reason for a well-informed and thoughtful person to believe in the supernatural.

I have also explored at length why religious and/or supernatural beliefs remain plausible to so many. Religious ideas do seem intuitive or at least minimally counter-intuitive to many people, but this is not a reason to believe in them. However, this need not lead to intolerance, which is irrational. Religion is more or less universal amongst humans and acknowledging this costs us little. Nor does it change the essential task set out by Buddhism, i.e. to transcend our view of ourselves as isolated individual selves and the harmful behaviour associated with this view.

Apart form the traditional versions of karma and rebirth there are versions that have been modified to be more compatible with modernism. So for example a version of karma that appeals to many modern Buddhists is that repeated actions form habits that make us more likely to behave in the same way again and shape how we see the world and how the world sees us. Buddhist practice in this view is about identifying habits and trying to eliminate them. This certainly seems to work and I have argument against it per se. But it has almost no relationship with traditional Buddhist views on karma and rebirth and I think we are still getting to the point where such views will be wildly acknowledged in the Buddhist world. My view is that considerable deconstruction of Buddhist doctrines is still required.


Afterword

Having looked closely at Buddhist doctrines of karma and rebirth over time, my conclusion is that, that no traditional version of them is coherent on its own terms. I emphasise the latter because, although I am sometimes known as a science enthusiast and accused of being a Materialist, I have carefully evaluated these Buddhist doctrines while trying my best to take the tradition at face value. The logic of the doctrines does not stand up to a sustained inquiry, the different versions all contradict each other and such plausibility as the doctrines retain seems to rely on sectarian readings which ignore historical disputes. But even granting the stipulations of sectarianism, still, no version of karma and rebirth is coherent.

In the light of modern science I would go further. The forces that govern matter and energy at the scales relevant to the discussion of karma and rebirth are well enough known and precisely enough specified, that no just-world or afterlife theory is possible and thus no version of them will ever be plausible. And this is a problem for Buddhism as a religion. It's a problem for those people who insist that to be a Buddhist one simply must believe against all evidence to the contrary. And that creates a kind of paradox, because honesty is one of the first principles of Buddhism and another important principle is that Buddhists do not rely on blind faith (though this is more honoured in the breach than in the observance). If we are honest and ask for evidence then the belief-system collapses.

And I believe this is the point we have reached. The belief-system of Buddhism is breaking down from within and being bypassed by secular presentations of Buddhist techniques (including, but not limited to Mindfulness therapies). My intention is to actively participate in the ensuing discussion about what Buddhism looks like in the post-deconstruction era.

~~oOo~~




Bibliography

Attwood, Jayarava. (2014). Escaping the Inescapable: Changes in Buddhist Karma. Journal of Buddhist Ethics, 21, 503-535. http://blogs.dickinson.edu/buddhistethics/2014/06/04/changes-in-buddhist-karma

Kalupahana, David J. (1986). Nāgārjuna: The Philosophy of the Middle Way, Mūlamadhyamakakārikā. SUNY.

Nagapriya. (2004). Exploring Karma & Rebirth. Windhorse Publications.

Subhuti. (2007) There are Limits or Buddhism With Beliefs. Privately circulated. 

15 April 2016

The Rocky Origins of Life

alkaline hydrothermal vent
In an essay in my series on Vitalism (Crossing the Line Between Death and Life, 30 May 2014), I mentioned the Miller-Urey experiment in 1953 as a breakthrough in the study of abiogenesis - the emergence of living things from non-living matter. It turns out, however, that having produced amino-acids and some other medium-sized organic molecules, nothing much else happens in these "organic soup" style experiments. Getting a soup of organic molecules to do anything interesting has proved an intractable problem and neither electrocution, bombardment with ultraviolet light, nor physical shocks help. New research has shown that Miller's estimates of the early atmosphere of the earth were probably wrong. He assumed the atmosphere of Jupiter would provide a good model for the early atmosphere of the earth: ammonia, methane and hydrogen. However, the heavy asteroid bombardment during the early epoch of the solar system, during which our moon was formed, blasted off the existing atmosphere and it was replaced with an atmosphere of mainly carbon-dioxide and nitrogen, with only traces of methane and other gases. Similar gases make up the modern day atmospheres of both Mars and Venus. Unfortunately, this mix of gases is very much less likely to get even as far as amino-acids in the Miller-Urey set up. So the idea of a naturally occurring organic soup fails on two counts: it probably never existed, and even if it had, nothing interesting happens in sterile soup (more on this below). Some comets and meteorites have a mixture of water and organic compounds similar to those produced by Miller-Urey and thus some of the building blocks of life may have come from space, but this still leaves us with the organic soup problem.

Another hypothesis of how life emerged from non-living matter has recently emerged and been promoted by British scientist, Nick Lane (amongst others), This is described in his book Life Ascending: The Ten Greatest Inventions of Evolution (2009). This hypothesis is known as the Alkaline Hydrothermal Vent Origin of Life. For the full detail of this hypothesis, see Russell et al (2013) and the "further reading". In this essay I will both paraphrase and embellish the version of the theory set out in Lane (2009).

We begin with a caveat. Even if we show that this theory is possible and plausible, it still won't tell us exactly how life began here. That is impossible to know. But if we can show that the chemical reactions that underpin life can be started in similar conditions, then we may be able to better understand life more generally. There will be general rules that govern the emergence of life and we can specify some of those rules. In addition if we can show that life emerging from chemistry is plausible it further undermines any remaining tendency to explain life through forms of Vitalism.

One thing we can already identify is the basic chemistry of life. For example all life on earth involves reducing carbon-dioxide (CO2) to methane (CH4) and water (H2O). Some organisms do this directly, most do it indirectly, but this is what all organisms do at a minimum. And since this doesn't happen spontaneously in an organic soup, we need to specify the kind of conditions in which it will happen.


Signs of Life

Stromatolite
via Wikimedia
By 3400 million years ago, the signs of life on earth are unequivocal. The first life seems to have been in the form of bacteria or archaea. Taxonomists now recognise five kingdoms of living things: animal, plant, fungi, bacteria, and archaea. On the surface bacteria and archaea can be indistinguishable, but internally, chemically there are major differences (I'll say more on this later in the essay). Archaea are typically found in niches involving high temperatures, extremes of pH (both acid and alkali) or other factors that would kill most organisms. They are sometimes called extremophiles.

We can see in fossils of this early period, and perhaps earlier, the ratio of carbon isotopes that we expect to see from fossilised living things. This ratio, which sets life apart from non-living chemistry, is the basis of Carbon-14 (14C) dating. We also see fossilised structures of a form of life that we still see in shallow oceans today, i.e. the stromatolite. Archaea and bacteria continued to be the dominant forms of life for 2500 millions years before fossils of complex organisms begin to appear. Arguably they still are the dominant form of life, exploiting a vast range of ecological niches and far outweighing any other form of life in terms of biomass.

Replicators, molecules which copy themselves accurately, seem to be essential to any form of life and thus most existing theories have focussed on how such molecules might have been produced, usually in a soup of organic precursor compounds (like Miller-Urey). However, Lane refers to the various "organic soup" theories as "pernicious" because the idea deflects attention away from the underpinnings of life. As Lane says, if you take a tin of actual (sterilised) soup and leave it for a few million years it does not spawn new life, instead all the complex molecules gradually break down into simpler molecules. In other words following the dictates of thermodynamics the soup goes in the wrong direction. "Zapping" it with electricity or radiation only accelerates the degradation. The laws of thermodynamics means that a soup is far too unlikely a route to life. One can never ignore thermodynamics as they govern everything.


Thermodynamics - The Science of Desire

The physics of matter is a story of attractions and repulsions and thus, according to Lane, "it becomes virtually impossible to write about chemistry without giving in to some sort of randy anthropomorphism." (13-14) I'll do my best. Chemical reactions happen if all the participants want to participate or can be forced to. Molecules "want" to exchange elections or can be induced to overcome their shyness.

The molecules in food want very much to react with oxygen, but don't do so spontaneously, fortunately or we'd all go up in flames! Even reactions that result in a net release of energy often require some "activation energy" to overcome their "shyness" or initial reluctance to react. Another way of looking at the chemistry of life is that it boils down to the juxtaposition of two molecules, hydrogen and oxygen, out of equilibrium. They react with a discharge of energy, leaving warm water. And this is the problem with the organic soup theory - nothing wants to react, so nothing happens. There is no disequilibrium that might drive the necessary reactions. Disequilibrium is a key to life. 

Some origin of life theories focus on RNA, the single-stranded counterpart of DNA, which under certain conditions can self-replicate (normally in a cell RNA replication is dependent on large protein complexes called ribosomes). The idea that a very complex molecule like RNA might have come about without a thermodynamic disequilibrium driving the reactions is not credible. Thus although self-replicating RNA is plausible, there must be more to it. RNA is composed of nucleotides which combine an amino-acid, a sugar (ribose) and a phosphate group. As monomers (ATP), dimers (NADH), and polymers (RNA, DNA), nucleotides play several vital roles in living cells. Although we get amino acids from the Urey-Miller experiment, nucleotides are very much more difficult to make. Nucleotides do not just form spontaneously. One cannot just throw amino acids, ribose, and phosphate into a bucket and expect nucleotides to form. In fact it is worse than this because the conditions required for the synthesis of ribose and amino-acids are very different and they could not happen in the same bucket. They must be synthesised separately and then brought together. But then the reaction will not take place in the presence of water. Nor do nucleotides easily polymerise in the absence of a catalyst to form RNA or DNA. Although aspects of RNA based explanations of the origin of life remain plausible, RNA is certainly not the first step in the direction of life. Many conditions had to exist in order for RNA to be synthesised. If life did not evolve in a chemical soup, where did it come from?

An important clue was the discovery of vents on the sea-floor close to the great ocean ridges where the tectonic plates are forced apart by up-welling magma. These vents, known as "black smokers", spew out hot (300-400°C), acidic water, laden with chemicals, particularly metal and hydrogen sulphides (which account for the dark colour). They support a variety of lifeforms at densities rivalling rain forests. Bacteria use hydrogen sulphide (H2S) to power their metabolism. Effectively they detach the hydrogen from H2S and attach it to carbon dioxide to form organic matter and elemental sulphur (and this is one of the most direct processes for reacting H2 with CO2). This conversion requires energy and it comes from the juxtaposition of two worlds in dynamic disequilibrium, i.e. from cold sea water and the hot vent water. The bacteria that sustain this world live at the margins where the two meet and mix. Then some animals graze on the bacteria and a food chain is established. Or else the bacteria live in symbiotic relationships inside the animals. Tube-worms for example host such bacteria which feed them and because of this do not have a digestive system.

These hot vents became a candidate for the origin of life since the disequilibrium solved the thermodynamic problem. Possible mechanisms for life emerging at these hot vent sites were proposed by German chemist and patent attorney, Günter Wächtershäuser. These involved chemistry taking place on surfaces of iron-pyrites. Unfortunately conditions on the early earth make this route unlikely. Oxygen is still central to the metabolism of the vent archaea and bacteria. They still react hydrogen and oxygen, if only indirectly. There is also the concentration problem, that is, bringing enough of the reactants together in open water to make a self-sustaining reaction. For life to come about organic molecules must dissolve in water and somehow react to form polymers like RNA. But this is extremely unlikely if they are not contained (by a membrane) and concentrated.


Alkaline Vents

Serpentenized olivine
A second kind of hydrothermal vent was predicted Mike Russell, now working at NASA's Jet Propulsion Lab. Russell had conjectured that these other vents would be an even better candidate for the origin of life. Alkaline vents are not volcanic, but rely on the reaction between a type of rock called olivine and sea water. Such rock undergoes a process known as serpentinization after a common form of this rock, serpentine, which is green and thought to resemble the scales of a snake. In serpentinization, water becomes incorporated into the structure of the rock which expands and fractures. The volume of water incorporated in this way is believed to equal the volume of the all the oceans. But the water and rock also chemically react, producing highly (chemically) reduced compounds such as hydrogen, methane and hydrogen sulphide and a high pH value, i.e. the water in serpentinized rock is strongly alkaline. The reaction is also exothermic, i.e. heat producing, and so drives the convection that powers the alkaline vents. The reaction can be represented in simplified form as:

olivine + H2O → serpentinite + H2 + heat

or

2Fe2+ + 2H2O → 2Fe3+ + 2OH- + H2

Alkaline vent Structure 
Note that hydrogen and methane were key ingredients in the Miller-Urey experiments in the 1950s. Having been first predicted by Russell in the 1980s, living vents were discovered in 2000 during a submarine expedition to the mid-Atlantic. The vents form spectacular coral-like structures (right) that can be 60m in height.

The water coming from these vents is warm (70-80°C), highly alkaline (ph 9-11) and filled with chemicals produced by serpentinization, particularly hydrogen. By contrast, in the early oceans, the water would have been cool, slightly acid (pH ~5.5), and much richer in CO2 and iron than the present day ocean. As the hot, chemical rich water mixes with the cold sea-water some of the chemicals precipitate out to form porous limestone structures, filled with tiny chambers roughly the size of an organic cell. The compartments could provide a natural means of concentrating organic molecules. While modern vents tend to lack iron, the composition of the ocean 4 billion years ago would have meant that the early vents did have iron and other metal compounds (particularly nickel, magnesium, and molybdenum) with catalytic properties embedded in their walls. Mike Russell has argued that the iron/sulphur minerals in these structures resembled enzymes that some modern living cells, especially archaea, use to catalyse chemical reactions. The flow through these early vent structures replenished basic reactants, carried off by-products, and prevented catalyst surfaces from becoming fouled, while also allowing for organic molecules to concentrate. The thin walls of the chambers provided membranes, one of the essential features of living things, with very different conditions of temperature and especially pH on either side, thus creating exactly the kind disequilibrium required to power living things.


Disequilibria

The vents provide two kinds of disequilibria that can act as drivers of chemical processes. These are quite technical and I'll try to simplify.
  1. highly reduced electron donors
  2. pH imbalance or proton gradient

Electron Donors

1. Bubbling up from the vent are gases like hydrogen and methane produced by the reaction of water with mantle minerals like olivine. In the presence of iron and molybdenum catalysts in the walls of the vent structures, these come into contact with CO2 and nitrogen oxides dissolved in the water. When hydrogen reacts chemically it readily gives away its single electron to another molecule to create a hydrogen ion or proton. In chemical terms this giving away of an electron is called "reduction". Oxygen is the prototypical acceptor of electrons and thus this side of the reaction is called "oxidation". When iron is oxidised to rust, what is happening is that oxygen in the air is accepting electrons from (i.e. is reduced by) metallic iron (Fe) which is converted into ferrous (Fe2+). Red rust can be further oxidised to black ferric (Fe3+) iron. Atoms will tolerate a net positive or negative charge if they can obtain a more stable arrangement of electrons (this is a consequence of the quantum mechanics of electrons). Serpentinization involves water oxidising ferrous iron in olivine to ferric iron, with water being reduced to hydrogen gas and hydroxide ions.

H2 and CO2 react with a little difficulty. Although the overall reaction is exothermic, meaning that it is thermodynamically favoured, some initial energy is required to get the reaction going and a catalyst to help it along. The catalyst in the archaea that do this reaction directly is a complex of iron, nickel and sulphur atoms, which are very like the kind of minerals deposited at vent sites. "This suggests that the primordial cells simply incorporated a ready-made catalyst" (Lane 28). The activation energy seems to come from the vents themselves, which we can tell from the presence of acetyl thioesters. These molecules are the result of CO2 first reacting with free-radicals of sulphur in the vent water, and these free-radicals provide some of the energy. We will return to this observation below.

The combination results in reactions that produce methanol (CH3OH), methanal (CH2O), and ultimately ethanoic acid (CH3COOH) aka acetic acid). Such molecules can accumulate and concentrate in the cells and this allows for more complex molecules to form and polymerise in tiny versions of the Miller-Urey experimental apparatus. This gives us a more dynamic version of the organic soup. The constant flow of water from the vent solves another problem associated with surface catalysts: fouling. As reactions happen on a surface the products of the reaction build up and prevent new reactants getting to the surface. To have a sustainable reaction at a surface one must combine concentration (enough to bring molecules together) with a flow that carries away products and replenishes reactants. The pores of the vent structures seem to provide for both.


Proton Gradient

2. A feature of all living things is the creation of a proton gradient across a membrane. By this we mean that one side of the membrane has a surplus of protons (in other words an acid pH) and the membrane allows them to diffuse to the other side where there is a deficit (an alkaline pH). Since protons are positively charged this is also amounts to an electrical potential (i.e. a voltage) across the membrane.

In our mitochondria for example, this gradient is achieved by a process called electron chain transport involving four complexes of proteins that pump protons across the membrane to create a pH or proton gradient. These protons then diffuse back into the cell by a process called chemiosmosis, via another protein complex called ATP-Synthase, and in doing so power the creation of adenosine triphosphate 

triphosphate - ribose - amino-acid (adenosine)

At first sight ATP-Synthase appears so miraculous that, like the eye, it is often pointed to as evidence of intelligent design. It is difficult to imagine how something so complex could have evolved from simple steps by chance, though its evolutionary path is in fact known to some extent. ATP synthase is a complex nano-machine. A rotary engine in the cell-membrane is made up of a protein complex (with three subunits) and driven by proton diffusion or chemiosmosis; the engine uses a protein-based crank-shaft to deliver mechanical energy to a separate complex of proteins (with three subunits) inside the cell; the deformation and relaxation of this second complex catalyses the synthesis of ATP from ADP and a phosphate ion. Several good animations are available showing how ATP-Synthase works, for example this YouTube video.



ATP is a universal energy currency in all living cells. It is how energy is stored and moved around the to where it is needed. ATP is a nucleotide, the basic unit, or monomer from which polymers like RNA and DNA are produced. The right-hand group is adenine, an amino-acid, and the middle part is ribose, a saccharide or sugar. And on the left is the phosphate. Compare to the units of DNA or RNA (below):

RNA Nucleotide. Wikimedia

ATP adds two more phosphate groups, the last of which is detachable to make adenosine diphosphate with the release of energy. The reaction that powers life thus looks like this.

ATP ↔ ADP + PO42- + energy

The pH difference between the two bodies of water, kept separate by the membranes of the vent structure creates a voltage across the membrane that can drive a similar kind of reaction, the transformation of orthophosphate into pyrophosphate:


Note how the left-hand side of ATP is very like the pyrophosphate molecule. Russell thinks that pyrophosphate might be the precursor of ATP, that it could do the same job of providing energy to power other reactions, though less efficiently.


Scaling Up.

So in these vents we have the following essential ingredients for chemistry related to life (especially if we consider them as they might have been 4 billion years ago).
  • CO2 and nitrogen-oxides (in seawater) + H2 (in vent water) reacting to form organic molecules
  • Iron-sulphur and other metallic ion complexes that can act as catalysts
  • A mechanism for concentration and replenishment
  • A porous membrane formed from calcium carbonate with distinct environments on either side.
  • A proton gradient
  • Potentially, a pyrophosphate based energy transfer mechanism to provide activation energy for "shy" molecules.
Thus the vents provided natural reactors for sustaining chemical reactions that produce organic molecules in a far more dynamic environment than that envisaged in organic soup theories. They also provide the range of environments necessary to create the conditions for replicators like RNA. However the kind of chemical reactions that might take place in such environments are relatively simple compared with even a bacterial cell, let alone a eukaryote cell. How did we get from there to here? In attempting to answer this question Lane switches from a bottom-up to a top-down perspective.

One of the clues to how life might have proceeded can be found in the common elements of metabolism shared by almost all living cells. By comparing all living things we can reconstruct the common elements shared by all life. In this vein, a paper published in Science on 25 March 2016 (Hutchison et al 2016) has attempted to reduce the genome of a bacteria to just those genes essential for it to live. The resulting partly-synthetic organism has just 473 genes. The function of 149 of them has yet to be determined. Lane discusses the last universal common ancestor of all current forms of life, known by the acronym, LUCA. In order to identify what features LUCA might have possessed scientists compared the two oldest forms of life: archaea and bacteria. Archaea appear very similar to bacteria, but there are important differences in metabolism and biochemistry. Features in which bacteria and archaea differ include,
  • Chemical structure of cell membranes structure
  • Methods of lipid synthesis
  • Methods of glycolysis (conversion of sugars to pyruvate)
  • DNA replication
  • Respiration pathways
Features which bacteria and archaea share include:
  • DNA
  • Ribosome (proteins which transcribe DNA into RNA)
  • RNA to protein translation
  • Krebs cycle
  • ATP synthesis
The features that archaea and bacteria have in common are those likely to have been found in LUCA and those features where they differ were unlikely to be features of LUCA. Note that cell membrane structures are not included in the list of shared features. Archaea and bacteria appear to have separately (and in parallel) evolved lipid-based cell-membranes and methods for synthesising lipids. This is consistent with life having evolved as metabolic pathways in a physical substrate and then later having found ways to create membranes, with bacteria and archaea developing independently. In retrospect, the alkaline vent hypothesis predicts multiple parallel solutions to such problems as cell-membranes and some metabolic pathways.

The Krebs Cycle (aka Citric Acid Cycle) is shared by all forms of life. Lane refers to it as "the metabolic core of the cell". It is central to how we take the complex molecules in food and break them down into hydrogen and carbon-dioxide and in the process produce ATP to power other cell processes.

The cycle can also go backwards. In which case it consumes ATP and produces complex organic molecules, which can be used to build the components of a cell. This backwards Krebs Cycle is not common in life generally, but it is common in the archaea that live in hydrothermal vents. Crucially, given appropriate concentrations of the necessary ingredients including ATP, the chemical reactions of the backwards cycle will happen spontaneously. It is what is sometimes called "bucket chemistry", from the idea that one pours reagents into a bucket and the reactions just happen. And as the products of one step of the process build up in concentration they will automatically start to undergo the next step. No genes are required to mediate this process. It is exactly the kind of reaction that could have got started in the pours of vent structures, perhaps powered initially by pyrophosphate rather than ATP. Once this process got going, side reactions would have been almost inevitable producing amino-acids and nucleotides (the units of the DNA or RNA polymer).

We mentioned acetyl thioesters above. These turn out to be very important, because when they react with CO2 they produce molecules called pyruvates. When our cells take up simple sugars these are broken down by enzymes into pyruvates. These then enter the Krebs Cycle where they are transformed into other molecules to form many building blocks for complex chemistry. So the naturally occurring acetyl thioesters could have produced the pyruvates necessary to set off the backwards Krebs cycle to produce complex organic molecules.
"In other words, a few simple reactions, all thermodynamically favourable, and several catalysed by enzymes with mineral-like clusters at their core... take us straight into the metabolic heart of life, the Krebs cycles, without any more ado." (28)
We now hit the limits of the progress of science. Experiments designed to test how accurate this hypothesis is have been proposed. Lane speculates that peptides and small proteins and RNA are likely products. Some experiments have been performed and generally they seem to throw up problems with the model. So the field is still in the phases of repeatedly testing and redesigning to find the right parameters. However, there is reason to be optimistic that refining the model should produce a self-sustaining series of chemical reactions analogous to the first living systems, and that contain metabolic pathways which hold the key to all life: the proton gradient, a phosphate based energy transfer, and the Krebs cycle. Lane concludes that LUCA, the common ancestor of all life was most likely,
"...not a free-living cell but a rocky labyrinth of mineral cells, lined with catalytic walls composed of iron, sulphur and nickel, and energised by natural proton gradients. The first life was a porous rock..."
The conditions required for all this to happen are unusual, but happen to be exactly the conditions that prevailed on the earth 4 billion years ago. Once the conditions were in place, life was more or less inevitable and probably came about quite quickly.

Of course this story is still quite hypothetical. Some parts of the alkaline vent hypothesis are better attested than others. As far as I can tell the experimental results are still ambiguous, though promising. Other models for origins of life do exist and are being explored. See for example, Keller et. al. (2016), though this group also see a vital role for iron compound catalysis. The more we understand the biochemistry of life, the better we understand what the conditions must have been for the beginning of life. Major advances in understanding that biochemistry are still being made. Elucidating the basic structure of ATP Synthase won Paul Boyer and John E. Walker a Nobel Prize in 1997, less than 20 years ago. This is ongoing work, most of the sources cited in this essay are less than five years old (at the time of writing). 


Conclusions

A sceptical Buddhist reader, if they even got this far, may say, so what? What has any of this got to do with Buddhism? By my own admission, I don't usually countenance the idea that science supports the standard kinds of medieval worldview held by Buddhists. In fact here I am doing the opposite. By showing the plausibility, even the thermodynamic inevitability, of biochemistry emerging from geochemistry, I want to try to eliminate the last vestiges of Vitalism. No supernatural element need be added to the organic soup to make it come alive, merely some form of chemical disequilibrium across a permeable barrier (in our case a proton gradient across porous calcium carbonate). There is no equivalent of the Lord breathing life into Adam or Dr Frankenstein pumping electricity into the monster to shock it into life. Certainly energy must be available, but this is simply energy in the normal sense used by scientists, not some supernatural vital spark. Life proceeding in this manner is no less mysterious, but it is entirely natural. There is no need to introduce any supernatural element. The picture above might not be correct in every detail, but it identifies the basic elements that must be in place for life to be thermodynamically feasible: ie. H2 and CO2 in an environment of disequilibrium separated by a porous membrane, with catalysts present, and a replenishing flow that is balanced out by possibility for concentration of ingredients.

If we accept these ideas, and granted many will not or will find them too speculative, then life requires nothing extra in order to be passed on from one being to another. In the simplest terms, cells divide and the daughter cells go on to become other individuals. What is passed on in modern living cells is a copy of the mother-cell's genes, some of her metabolic equipment, and a section of her enclosing membrane. Nothing supernatural occurs during this process. What occurs is certainly incredibly, almost unimaginably complex and at best incompletely understood. But the broad outlines of it are clear.

I have previously argued that any afterlife is by necessity vitalistic and dualistic. The afterlife exists primarily to fulfil the longing for continued existence and as a mechanism for sustaining the Myth of a Just World. Vitalism and Dualism are the price we pay for fulfilling these longings. If the manner in which we lived is important to an afterlife theory, then that theory demands that information about how lived must survive our physical death in some coherent form. This information is then used to determine our post-mortem fate. Thermodynamics precludes the possibility of this information being preserved because, in our living bodies, the information is encoded in arrangements of atoms. Those atoms become disordered almost as soon as life ends. Nor is there a credible way of transmitting this information from one being to another, even if they were in physical contact. The many Buddhist attempts to explain this information transfer, e.g. a mind-made body (manomaya kāya) or gandharva, do not meet modern standards for theories that make accurate, testable predictions. At best they are myths, at worst they are post hoc rationalisations of something we want to believe despite the evidence.

If we eliminate all forms of Vitalism and Dualism with respect to life, it makes these medieval afterlife views considerably less plausible. If nothing is required to spark matter into life, if there really is no matter/spirit duality, then the idea of something immaterial surviving death is considerably less plausible. Buddhism without the inherent matter/spirit duality, without the supernatural elements changes radically. Karma and rebirth go out the window. The focus becomes how we understand experience and how we can explain the experiences we have during the religious exercises associated with Buddhism.

Because of thermodynamics, religion is basically finished. The death throes are certainly taking a long time, but the world is slowly moving away from seeing life through a religious lens. Buddhism, as a religion in the traditional sense of being concerned with continuity, justice, disembodied spirits, and the afterlife, is finished. We have Hamlet's choice: either embrace the situation and take an active role in shaping the future; or hesitate and allow events to overrun us. But we are not Hamlet, we know how the play ends.

~~oOo~~



Bibliography

Hutchison, C. A. (2016) Design and synthesis of a minimal bacterial genome. Science, 351 (6280) DOI: 10.1126/science.aad6253

Keller, MA. et al. (2016) Conditional iron and pH-dependent activity of a non-enzymatic glycolysis and pentose phosphate pathway. Science Advances 2(1) DOI: 10.1126/sciadv.1501235

Lane, N. (2009) Life Ascending: The Ten Greatest Inventions of Evolution. W.W. Norton. [While it lasts there is a YouTube video with Nick Lane reading his own chapter on the origin of life accompanied by relevant graphics https://youtu.be/UGxAB4Weq0U]

Russell, M. J., Nitschke, W., Branscomb, E. (2013) The inevitable journey to being. Phil Trans Roy Soc Lond B. DOI: 10.1098/rstb.2012.0254


Related reading

Herschy B, et al. (2014) An origin-of-life reactor to simulate alkaline hydrothermal vents. Journal of Molecular Evolution 79: 213-227. http://www.nick-lane.net/Herschy%20et%20al%20J%20Mol%20Evol.pdf

Lane N, and Martin WF. (2012) The origin of membrane bioenergetics. Cell 151: 1406-12. http://www.nick-lane.net/Lane-Martin%20Cell%20origin%20membrane%20bioenergetics.pdf

Lane N, Allen JF, Martin W. (2010) How did LUCA make a living? Chemiosmosis in the origin of life. Bioessays 32: 271-280. http://www.molevol.de/publications/188.pdf

Sousa FL, et al. (2013). Early bioenergetic evolution. Phil Trans Roy Soc Lond B 368: 20130088. https://sites.google.com/site/shijulalns/publications

Update 26 Jul 2016
A recent study (by Bill Martin and others) in Nature Microbiology suggests that LUCA was a hydrogen metabolising thermophile. Based on analysis of the common genes in bacteria and archaea it identifies 355 genes as ancestral - i.e. belonging to LUCA.
Weiss, M. C., Sousa, F. L., Mrnjavac, N., Neukirchen, S., Roettger, M., Nelson-Sathi, S. & Martin, W. F. (2016). The physiology and habitat of the last universal common ancestor. Nature Microbiology 1, Article number: 16116. doi:10.1038/nmicrobiol.2016.116.
For a discussion of the article see
Errington, Jeff. (2016). Study tracing ancestor microorganisms suggests life started in a hydrothermal environment. PhysOrg. 26 July 2016. http://phys.org/news/2016-07-ancestor-microorganisms-life-hydrothermal-environment.html

18 Feb 2017
In Daniel C. Dennett's new book From Bacteria to Bach and Back he references a paper which shows how ribo-nucleotides can be synthesised bypassing the phase of having ribose and an amino acid, which in some cases are very difficult to stick together.
Szostak, J.W. (2009) Origins of life: Systems chemistry on early Earth. Nature. 2009 May. Available from the authors website.
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