Showing posts with label Evolution. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Evolution. Show all posts

26 November 2025

Togetherness

Twenty years ago, on this day—26 November 2005—I posted the first essay on this blog. Today's post is the 647th essay (and the first one not posted on a Friday). Jayarava's Raves amounts to some millions of words. If you had told me twenty years ago that I would go on to write well over 600 essays, I would not have found that plausible. And yet, here we are.

These essays reflect my self-education not only in Buddhism, but in all the allied disciplines and fields that are required to understand religion, religieux, and religious phenomena, including: history, philosophy (metaphysics, epistemology, axiology), general linguistics, socio-linguistics, translation theory, sociology, and social psychology (none of which were included in my formal education). I've also maintained an interest in science and written about that from time to time. I've been trying to make sense of Buddhism in rational terms. 

Perhaps the most profound thought I have come across in the last 20 years is that we are not only social animals, but each individual is also a community of cells. And our surfaces—inside and out—are coated with numerous symbiotic microorganisms that make a significant contribution to processes such as digestion and immunity to pathogens. Moreover, our eukaryote cells are themselves symbiotic communities of what used to be separate organisms.

Whether we know it or not, every one of us is a community of communities. And if we go up the taxonomic hierarchy, we find humans in dependent relationships within ecosystems at every turn. Ultimately, all ecosystems contribute collectively to Gaia, the Earth's biosphere conceived of as a single (if complex) self-organising and self-regulating system.

Everywhere we look in nature, at whatever scale we choose, we see communities, cooperation, symbiosis, interdependence, and co-evolution. I find this thought both profound and beautiful. Yes, there is some conflict and competition, but Darwinian approaches to evolution massively over-emphasise conflict and almost completely ignore cooperation.

In this essay, I want to dwell on togetherness. It is, ironically, something I have seldom experienced for myself, and less and less as years go by. Nonetheless, I recognise it as the acme of human existence.


Social Animals are Moral Animals

What do you think of this slogan? Does this sound evil to you? Is this a recipe for tyranny?

All for one, and one for all;
United we stand, divided we fall.

What about these?

  • There's no 'I' in team.
  • A problem shared is a problem halved.
  • It takes a village to raise a child.
  • No one gets left behind.—US Military
  • Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.—Helen Keller
  • Even the weak become strong when they are united.—Friedrich von Schiller
  • We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.—Martin Luther King, Jr.
  • Coming together is a beginning, staying together is progress, and working together is success.—Henry Ford
  • "Monks," said the Bhagavan, "you have no mother and no father to care for you. If you don't care for each other, then who will care for you? If you would care for me, then tend to the sick."—Vin I 301

In The Road to Serfdom (1944), Friedrich Hayek argued that all forms of collectivism inevitably lead to tyranny. Only robust individualism, especially in commerce, can save us from tyranny and deliver us to an individualist liberal utopia. If Hayek was right, then these collectivist slogans that emphasise cooperation, community, and togetherness ought to be seen as a threat.

To me, this attitude is almost incomprehensible, but Hayek is probably the most influential intellectual of the last century. Along with other prominent neoliberals—like Ludwig von Mises and Milton Friedman—Hayek's views have shaped every capitalist society on the planet. Virtually all modern politicians and businessmen are neoliberals. Revolutions around the world in the late 1970s and early 1980s aimed to implement Hayek's utopian (neo)liberal view of a society of self-sufficient individuals engaged in commerce. While these men were promoting self-interest to intellectuals and economists, mad old Ayn Rand became the patron saint of self-interest amongst technologists (thus validating the neurodivergence that made them somewhat alienated from society). Alan Greenspan, who was a central figure in US monetary policy ca. 1974 to 2006, was a personal disciple of Rand. Making Rand one of the most influential intellectuals of all time.

Of course, the anti-collectivists were helped by the horrific excesses carried out in the name of Karl Marx in the USSR and China. Stalin and Mao were undoubtedly brutal tyrants. But in terms of socialism, Hayek and company seem to ignore all of the democratic socialist nations and the very high standard of living and freedom they attained. Norway, Sweden, New Zealand, Canada, and even post-War Britain all had democratic socialist governments and free people.

The fact is that humans are social; we live in societies. Our sociology determines our psychology, not the other way around (sociology is more fundamental than psychology). And ideological individualism is a pathology for a social animal.

Some birds and most mammals have adopted a social lifestyle. I won't comment here on social insects since they work on different principles. The social lifestyle is one of the most successful evolutionary strategies in the 3.5 billion-year history of life on Earth. Certainly, the success of humans as a species is directly related to our ability to work together in large numbers for a common cause. We actually enjoy working together.

Amish men raising a barn together.

By the way, I don't cite animal examples to drag us down: "we're no better than animals". I cite animal examples to emphasise the universality of these observations about morality and togetherness. I also want to emphasise that no supernatural explanation of morality is needed

As the late, great, Frans de Waal pointed out, a social lifestyle minimally requires two capacities: empathy and reciprocity.

Empathy is the capacity to use physical cues to internally model how other people are feeling. Which means we don't just know what others feel, we also feel it in our own bodies. This is why emotions are contagious. As social animals, we monitor how the group is disposed, i.e. who is feeling what towards whom. This allows us to accurately judge the potential and actual impacts of our actions on others, and to moderate our behaviour accordingly. This is morality in a nutshell. But we don't just respond in the moment. We also keep track of and respond to how people have acted towards us, which requires the capacity for reciprocity.

Reciprocity is the capacity to form relationships of mutual obligation. It is keeping track of these obligations that creates a limit on the size of groups. The famous "Dunbar Number"—150—was derived by comparing primate group sizes with the volume of their neocortex. Robin Dunbar showed there is a strong correlation between these. Humans can keep track of the history of how members of the group interact in groups up to around 150, though there is considerable individual variation. Beyond 150, we can still form groups, but the sense of mutual obligation is more tenuous as the group size increases. With strangers, we typically do not feel a sense of obligation, except where it is imposed on us by nature: for example, the culture of hospitality common to many desert-dwelling societies.

However, reciprocity only holds a group together if there is some tendency for generosity. Someone has to start sharing, or no one would share. Social animals have to be prosocial, or sociality per se doesn't work. At the very least, mammalian mothers have to be willing to care for newborn infants, or they don't survive.

Anyone who reneges on the obligations of reciprocity has created an unfair situation. De Waal and other animal ethologists showed that social mammals are keenly aware of fairness (see especially his TED Talk). We intuitively understand that unequal rewards are unfair. We know it, and we also feel it deeply. Since the survival of the group relies on maintaining the integrity of the network of mutual obligations, we are highly motivated to be fair and to re-establish fairness when it breaks down. We call the latter "justice".

So our concepts of morality, fairness, and justice all emerge naturally from our having evolved social lifestyles and large brains. The rudiments are all visible, at least to some extent, in all social animals, suggesting universality. What may be unusual in humans is ethics, understood as abstract principles on which more concrete moral rules can be based. It is abstract ethics that allows us to adapt moral rules to new situations, for example (note that Buddhism lacks any ethical discourse, so Buddhists generally take a conservative view—no new rules—or they draw on the ethics of the surrounding culture for making ad hoc rules).

Being a member of a social species is not the only form of biological interconnection that we participate in. Let's now look at some others. 


Evolution and Exosymbiosis

I have long been a fan of Lynn Margulis (1938 – 2011). Margulis got a few things spectacularly wrong, especially later in life (notably her views on HIV were badly wrong). But her overall contribution to biology was pivotal for modern science and for my own views.

Notably, Margulis discovered endosymbiosis in 1966, which I will deal with in the next section. Margulis also advocated, in scientific and popular publications, for much greater awareness of the role of symbiosis in biology and evolution.

Margulis, Lynn. (1998). The Symbiotic Planet: A New Look at Evolution. Basic Books.

When I first studied biology, over 40 years ago, symbiosis was presented as something rather rare and unusual. Some organisms, such as lichens, enter into very close relationships in which two or more species rely on each other to survive. Lichens are the classic example. Lichens are a distinctive form of organism, but they are actually made of at least one fungus and one bacterium. Some species of lichens include both a filamentous (or hyphae-forming) fungus and a single-celled fungus (or yeast).

From quite early on, Margulis argued that symbiosis was much more common than allowed by traditional biology. Indeed, Margulis was critical of Darwin's (and the Darwinian) focus on competition and violence amongst animals (a view that Frans de Waal also rebelled against early in his academic career). 

According to Margulis, this jaundiced view was heavily influenced by the preoccupations of Victorian ruling-class men, i.e. patriarchy and imperialism. That is to say, representing nature as "red in tooth and claw" suited the ruling class men of Europe—of which Darwin was a member—because they were busy trying to conquer, appropriate, and exploit the entire world. Darwin was able to spend 20 years developing his ideas on natural selection because he was never burdened by having to work for a living. Nor did he have to accept patronage. Having inherited enough wealth to live on, he could simply focus on his gentlemanly pursuit of science and volunteer work for learned societies. And this was the norm at the time. There were no working-class scientists.

Nor was this the end of the trend. Richard Dawkins, arguably the most prominent biologist of the twentieth century, applied Hayek's neoliberal worldview to biology to come up with the "selfish gene". Cooperation, communities, symbiosis and all that were simply explained away as being "motivated by self-interest". The conclusion is too obviously ideological rather than objective. Later in life, Dawkins is famous for two things: (1) apologetics for his own unreasonable views and (2) unreasonably picking fights with religious people using arguments that are guaranteed not to change anyone's mind. Dawkins, the biologist, never even tried to understand the phenomenon of "belief".

From the time of Thomas Hobbes (1588 – 1679), liberals have seen humans not as prosocial, empathetic, and reciprocating but as vicious loners, forced by circumstances to live together, creating endless conflict and violence. Note that Hayek is clearly Hobbesian in outlook, and it is no coincidence that both of these ruling-class men lived through periods of all-out war and political chaos in Europe. They both attributed the violence of their own class and gender to the common people and argued that their own class provided stability. In psychological projection, a person projects alienated aspects of their own personality out into the world, in order to try to come into relationship with themselves. 

Liberals see competition as the great winnower of species and individuals (social Darwinism has always been part of the liberal schtick). Competition takes on a moral character in which succeeding in competition equates to moral goodness. Hence, liberals expect "winners" in any competition to be moral role models. 

According to liberalism, the apotheosis of competition means that we naturally adopt a kill-or-be-killed attitude. However, liberals also believe in Hobbes' Leviathan. This is linked to the Christian idea that God placed the ruling class in a superior position to other people, i.e. that of gamekeeper or farmer. The ruling class are the only ones who can impose order on the common people, who are otherwise nasty, brutish, and violent, but also lazy.

These views are all too obviously ideas that the ruling class of imperial Britain used to justify imperialist brutality towards societies, including their own. When a society routinely commits genocide in order to steal resources, it has to have some discourse that legitimises this. And liberalism was one of these. 

In fact, symbiosis turns out to be ubiquitous in nature, with humans themselves providing one of the most striking examples.

The "human gut microbiome" is now a household concept. We all know that many beneficial bacteria, fungi, and protists live in our gut. They very obviously contribute to digestion, for example, by breaking down cellulose, which we cannot do without them.

We now know, for example, that when a baby mammal suckles milk from its mother, it is also swallowing bacteria that will become its gut microflora. And that this is vital for the normal development of the gut and the immune system.

I suspect that part of the reason that so many modern people have "allergies" and "sensitivities" is the trend since the 1960s to bottle-feed newborns. Of course, sometimes there is no choice, so demonising bottle-feeding is counterproductive. But there must be a way to introduce bottle-fed newborns to "good bacteria", some other way, rather than leaving it to chance. I suspect that the massive rise in morbid obesity may be related to aberrant gut microflora as well, although eating to stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system (and thus reduce physiological arousal) is a huge factor. That is to say, we eat to calm down because we are hyperstimulated most of the time and have not learned any better ways. 

So beneficial are our gut symbionts that one can now receive a "faecal transplant" in which faecal matter from a healthy person—said to contain "good bacteria"—is introduced to the bowel of an unhealthy person, with a view to restoring their health. Apparently, this can work. Various foods with "good bacteria" are also popular, though whether these survive passing through the stomach is moot. Stomach acids kill the vast majority of microorganisms. 

Another very striking example of ubiquitous symbiosis is the mycorrhizal fungi that grow in and around tree roots. The fungal filaments (hyphae) live partly in the tree roots and partly in the soil. They break down the soil and transport nutrients into the roots, thus nourishing the tree. 

There is some suggestion that mycorrhizal fungi form underground networks in forests that link trees together and allow them to share resources. From what I've read, the full-on clickbait version of this story is to be taken with a grain of salt. Still, we can say that symbiotic mycorrhizal fungi are very important to the thriving of many plants.

All animals have extensive symbiotic relations with gut bacteria. But our outer surfaces are also an ecosystem. Not only are we constantly covered in microorganisms, but we also play host to organisms such as eyebrow mites that live in hair follicles. We are an ecosystem for such critters. 

Margulis also notes that bacteria evolve rapidly. They have generations of about 20 minutes. Every bacterial cell can, at least in principle, share genetic material with any other bacteria, regardless of species. Indeed, Margulis sometimes argued that one can take this to mean that bacteria are all one species. In any case, bacteria are highly promiscuous and routinely swap genes. This is how a trait like antibiotic resistance can spread rapidly in a population of bacteria.

Another feature of evolution that the Darwinists downplay is hybridisation. Again, when I was studying biology, hybridisation was presented as an exception. Fast forward 50 years, and it turns out that all humans are the result of the hybridisation of more than one human species. Most Homo sapiens carry some genes from one or more of Homo neanderthalensis, Homo naledi, Homo longi (aka Denisovans), and/or Homo floresiensis. Possibly others as well.

Margulis pointed out that where organisms fertilise eggs externally, hybridisation is very common. Some 20% of plants and 10% of fish routinely hybridise.

Finally, we can point to many examples of coevolution in which two species evolve a dependence on each other. The most obvious examples are plants and their pollinators. Some of these relationships are so specific that only one species of insect is capable of fertilising a particular flower. The plant puts considerable resources into attracting appropriate pollinators, and pollinators expend considerable resources collecting and distributing pollen. Each benefits more or less equally from the relationship, and they come to rely on each other to survive. This is surely the very opposite of competition. If the dynamic here were competitive, one of the partners would lose out. It would become a form of commensalism or parasitism.

Even parasitism is considerably more complex than it seems. For example, there is a widespread belief, backed up by robust evidence, that eradicating common human parasites in the modern world has led to the immune system being poorly calibrated, which contributes to the rise in autoimmune diseases and "allergies" in modern times. This is sometimes called the "hygiene hypothesis". We evolved to deal with common parasites and, ironically, not having them, which would intuitively be seen as wholly good, is actually a disruption of the normal order of things and leaves us maladapted. Just as faecal transplants are a thing, some doctors have tried infecting patients with relatively harmless roundworm parasites as a way of correcting an immune system imbalance. The jury is still out, but the idea is not completely mad.

While competition is certainly a factor in evolution, it is far from being the only one. Lynn Margulis convinced me that cooperation, communities, symbiosis, hybridisation, and co-evolutionary dependencies are every bit as important to evolution. Species not only diverge, but they also converge, creating evolutionary leaps. Margulis also alerted me to the ideological nature of some scientific conclusions regarding nature and evolution, especially the influence of patriarchy and neoliberalism. The story of how important symbiosis is to evolution is brought into focus by Margulis's 1967 breakthrough article.


Endosymbiosis

In the mid-1960s (around the time I was born), an early career scientist, then known as Lynn Sagan (married to celebrity scientist Carl Sagan), sent a novel paper to a series of science journals. After many rejections, the paper was eventually published as

Sagan. L. (1967). "On the origin of mitosing cells." Journal of Theoretical Biology. 14(3):255-74. Available online in numerous places.

Part of the abstract reads:

By hypothesis, three fundamental organelles: the mitochondria, the photosynthetic plastids and the (9+2) basal bodies of flagella were themselves once free-living (prokaryotic) cells. The evolution of photosynthesis under the anaerobic conditions of the early atmosphere to form anaerobic bacteria, photosynthetic bacteria and eventually blue-green algae (and protoplastids) is described. The subsequent evolution of aerobic metabolism in prokaryotes to form aerobic bacteria (protoflagella and protomitochondria) presumably occurred during the transition to the oxidizing atmosphere.

This hypothesis was subsequently tested and found to be accurate. This process, in which one single-celled organism ends up permanently and dependently living inside another, is now called endosymbiosis. In the meantime, Sagan remarried and changed her name again to Lynn Margulis, which is how I refer to her throughout.

In 1967, endosymbiosis was a radical theory, though some precedents in Russian microbiology were largely ignored in greater Europe because it was the height of the Cold War. Sixty years later, and this idea that organelles within eukaryote cells were once "free-living" is normative. This radical discovery is now such a commonplace that many modern discussions of endosymbiosis do not even mention Margulis or her role in it. Nick Lane, for example, who is at the forefront of abiogenesis research, has repeatedly downplayed the contributions of Margulis. 

It's fair to say that Margulis thought radically differently from most other people and that she was outspoken about her views. For a woman in the 1960s and 1970s, being outspoken (especially towards men) was seen as a serious character flaw. Many men were (and are) intimidated by a strong, intelligent woman. And, unfortunately, Margulis wasn't always right. However, she was right about endosymbiosis, and this is one of the most profound discoveries in the history of science. It is every bit as important as discovering DNA in terms of understanding how life and evolution work.

The prokaryotes are largely represented by bacteria and archaea (previously known as "extremophile bacteria"). Prokaryote cells have no nucleus and little internal structure. Their nuclear material is in a loop rather than a linear chromosome. 

The eukaryotes are fungi, plants, and animals. Eukaryote cells have a nucleus, with chromosomes, and many other internal structures, such as mitochondria.

Prokaryote organisms are far more numerous in biomass and variety. Animals are relatively unimportant to life on Earth; if we all disappeared, the prokaryotes would hardly notice, except those that specialise in living in/on us. Some plants rely on animals for reproduction. But not all, by any means. 

We can diagram the process by which combinations of prokaryotes led to the various eukaryote "kingdoms".

In the standard, neoDarwinian account of evolution, separated populations of a species subjected to differing environmental pressures will slowly diverge over time and become two distinct species. This has now been observed both in the lab and in nature. Evolution, per se, is a fact. Evolutionary theory is our explanation of this fact. Evolutionary theory is taught as a monoculture, at least up to undergraduate level. 

Darwin himself diagrammed the process of evolution as a branching tree, i.e. as a series of splits. This is still by far the most common way of representing evolution. I wrote a critique of this view in an essay titled: Evolution: Trees and Braids (27 December 2013). My suggestion that that we needed to represent evolution as a braided stream, since this allows for convergence and recombination.

I've already commented above on the ubiquity of exosymbiosis and hybridisation in nature. What I want to emphasise here is that endosymbiosis doesn't fit the neoDarwinian view of evolution at all because it is evolution by addition and recombination, rather than an accumulation of mutations. This alone tells us that the Darwinian view is incomplete.

In terms of my view of the world, the fact that our very cells began as small communities of cells within cells is a profound confirmation of the importance of communities and cooperation in nature at every level.

Similarly, our genome can be seen as a community of cooperating genes. The idea of individual genes, let alone "selfish" individual genes, makes little sense. Genes are always part of a genome. Even when bacteria swap genes, they incorporate new genes into their genome. We can talk theoretically and abstractly about individual genes, and we methodologically identify the corresponding function of the gene. But this is an abstract concept. In reality, genes only occur in genomes. A gene simply cannot function outside of a genome and the associated infrastructure.

The concept of the "selfish gene" is nonsensical, even as a metaphor.

So far, I've been delving down the taxonomic hierarchy into the microscopic. This is all too familiar in a reductionist environment and might have passed without comment. However, I am very critical of ideological reductionism. I believe that structure is also real and that structure anti-reductionism is a necessary counterpart to substance reductionism.

In the last section of this essay, therefore, I want to look up.


Gaia

I've already noted that social animals almost invariably live in family-oriented communities (with occasional solitary outliers). But we can also observe that each extended family exists in a network of inter-familial relations, often linked by intermarriage. 

Every human community is part of a network of communities embedded in an environment. We are also part of the local ecosystem. And the local ecosystem is part of the global ecosystem, also called the biosphere or more poetically, Gaia.

The Gaia hypothesis was first proposed by chemist James Lovelock (1919 – 2022) in 1975, with help from none other than Lynn Margulis. The classic statement of the idea appeared in book form in 1979.

Lovelock J (1979). Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth. Oxford University Press.

The Gaia hypothesis says that the biosphere as a whole is a complex feedback mechanism that "works" to keep the surface of the earth suitable for life, i.e. at maintaining homeostasis. Lovelock introduced the idea of "daisy world" as a simple cybernetic model of how life might achieve homeostasis on a planetary scale.

Interestingly, the Gaia hypothesis emerged after Lovelock was commissioned by NASA to help them figure out how to detect extraterrestrial life. Gaia maintains surface conditions that definitely could not occur in the absence of life. For example, high levels of oxygen in the Earth's atmosphere require constant replenishment by living things. So any planet with high oxygen is a candidate for harbouring life.  

Life causes our planet to exist in a state that is very far from the (chemical) equilibrium that we see on planets with no life, like Mars or Venus.

In order to understand life, we have to take a holistic view. Rather than reducing everything to its base substance and calling that "reality", we have to see that reality includes structure. Everything we can see with human eyes is a complex object with numerous layers of structure, lending it many structural properties (sometimes vaguely referred to as "emergent properties"). To say that complex objects are "not real" or "just illusions" is not helpful (or true).

When it comes to life, every structure is embedded in larger structures, up to Gaia, which is the ultimate living structure for life on Earth. Reality is substantial, but it's also structural and systematic.

From the lowest level of description to the highest, life is structures made of structures and systems within systems. Nothing living ever exists as a standalone or independent entity. Everything is dependent on everything else. The Hobbesian, lone-wolf version of humanity really only applies to sociopaths and psychopaths (who seem to be over-represented in the ruling/commercial class). 

Biologists are generally in a better position to see this than physicists. A biologist may well dissect (or even vivisect) an organism to see what it's made of. They may well quantify what elements are found in an organism. We're mainly carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and hydrogen. But clearly, elements like iron and magnesium play essential roles in our metabolism, as well as being potential toxins. I grew up in a region that was low in cobalt, and this meant that farmed animals would not thrive on our pastures without cobalt supplements. 

However, if a biologist wants to really understand some organism, they have to observe how it interacts with its physical and social environment. That is to say, how an organism reacts to physical stimulus, how it relates to others of its own species, and how it interacts with other species. And since the local environment is a product of the bulk environment, in the long run, we have to see all life on Earth in terms of its contribution to Gaia.

A common misconception about life is that it breaks the second law of thermodynamics. This law states that in a closed system, physical entropy always increases. The misconception stems from ignoring the words "closed system". A cell is not a closed system, since molecules are constantly entering and leaving. An organism is not a closed system. Gaia is not a closed system.

However, even if we stipulate that the second law might apply, the overall effect of Earth having a biosphere is a local increase in entropy. Visible and UV photons from the sun impact the Earth, where they are absorbed by rocks, water, and living things. Eventually, the incoming energy is radiated back out into space as infrared photons. And for every visible-UV photon arriving on Earth, twenty infrared photons are radiated back into space, with a net increase in entropy for Earth and its environment. So, if the second law applies (doubtful), then it is not broken by life. 

However, simple cybernetic feedback does not give us a complete explanation of life. For this, we have to change up a gear.


The Free Energy Principle

It's apparent, for example, that if the brain operated purely on homeostatic feedback, it would not be able to respond at the speed that it does. For this, we need to introduce the idea of allostasis. And allostasis leads us into the final big idea that is essential for understanding life: the Free Energy Principle. 

The idea of allostasis is that the brain constantly predicts what will happen next based on the present inputs and past experience. And if the expected input does not match the actual input, then the brain has two options: (1) change the prediction, i.e. update the expectation based on the new input; or (2) change the input, i.e. make some change in the world. And this enables a faster, more adaptable response.

Anyone familiar with the concept of Bayesian statistics should already recognise this paradigm. Bayesian statistics is a mathematical formalism that allows a statistician to quantify how their expectations change as new information comes in, as part of an iterative process. And this, in turn, has strong connections to information theory.

Enter Karl Friston, who primarily works on making information gleaned from medical scans into meaningful images. This involves expertise in statistical analysis and information theory.

Making these connections led Friston to propose the free energy principle. There is, as yet, no popular account of the free energy principle and the explanations that are available all rely on background knowledge of statistics and information theory that I don't have. 

See, for example:

Friston, K., et al. (2023) "The free energy principle made simpler but not too simple." Physics Reports 1024: Pages 1-29.

It is not "simple" at all unless you have the appropriate background knowledge.

This is something I'm still trying to understand, and I'm hoping to write an essay on it in the near future. But my intuition tells me that this idea is hugely important. Listening to Friston talk about it, I feel that I glimpse something significant. It's important enough to try to offer some impressionistic notes and encourage readers to follow up.

The free energy principle says that any self-organising system—living or non-living—that has a permeable boundary separating it from the general environment and that persists over time, will appear to take actions that can be mathematically described in terms of Bayesian statistics or in terms of "free energy" (a concept from information theory). Friston has shown these to be mathematically equivalent.

Where a prediction fails to match an input, Friston calls this "surprise". This is mathematically related to the informational property "free energy". Hence, "the free energy principle". It turns out that minimising surprise with respect to predictions is mathematically equivalent to minimising free energy (I suppose we might also relate this to the idea of the "path of least action" from classical physics, but I need to look into this). 

Rather than describing life as simply reacting to the environment, we can now describe all living things as iteratively predicting the future and testing predictions and optimising their responses to minimise surprise, resulting in changing predictions or changing inputs (external actions). Living systems involve both homeostasis and allostasis. 

In a sense, all the brain does is receive millions of input signals, process them in ways that are not fully understood, and generate millions of output signals, most of which are internal and only affect expectations. In her book How Emotions Are Made, Lisa Feldman-Barrett notes that 90% of the incoming connections to the visual cortex are from other parts of the brain, rather than from the eyes. 

This principle turns out to be an incredibly useful way of modelling and thus understanding living systems. It can be used to explain how even simple bacterial cells are apparently able to act intelligently (i.e. move towards food, move away from waste, or join up to form a colony). Whether there is some abstract "intelligence" behind this intelligent action is moot, but it's not an obvious conclusion, and it's not required by the free energy principle. 

I have never been a fan of panpsychism, which says that all matter is "conscious" (by degrees). It's such obvious nonsense that I find it hard to imagine why anyone takes it seriously. The free energy principle makes some broad claims, but it doesn't commit to metaphysical nonsense. The fact is that all living organisms do have a range of behaviours that they employ intelligently, without any evidence of being "conscious" or "intelligent". Intelligent behaviour is universal in living things. Being conscious of the world or self (or both) is rare. And, prior to the advent of the free energy principle, we were at a loss to explain this. This left huge gaps for "gods-of-the-gaps" style arguments for the supernatural. The free energy principle appears to plug those holes. 

I believe that, in the long run, the free energy principle will stand alongside the concepts of natural selection, symbiosis, and Gaia in terms of the history of understanding life. It offers a powerful, but also deflationary, account of the mechanisms that underpin life and mind.


Conclusion

The idea that "there is no society, there are only individuals and families" is arse-about-face. Rather, there are no individuals; there are only societies (and a family is a microcosm of a society). The individual is a mythological figure. We can talk about them in theory, but we rarely meet them in person. As Oscar Wilde said,

Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else's opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.

Me too, for the most part, but I do at least try to give credit where it is due. 

We are social animals. We evolved to live in social groups. Which means we evolved the capacity for empathy and the capacity for reciprocity. We evolved to be prosocial and moral. We evolved a sense of fairness and justice. Assuming we have not completely suppressed these capacities, we don't need anyone to tell us how to be moral. 

Competition is certainly a feature of life, but we have massively over-emphasised it for ideological reasons (patriarchy and imperialism). Consider the case of collectively making music. Music-making is not a competition, and turning it into one does not enhance it in any way. Making music actually requires selfless cooperation and is at its best when the egos of the players are not evident at all. And playing music, in an appropriate non-competitive context, brings out the best in people. It is no surprise, then, that in capitalist societies, the collective elements of music get reduced to passive consumption. And competition is enforced on musicians in ways that only detract from the music. 

Sociology is more fundamental than psychology, in the sense that we may be born with an individual temperament and/or personality that is relatively unchanging, but we develop in response to the environment we find ourselves in. We learn to be a member of the local social group in more or less the same way that we learn the language of the group we find ourselves in. 

Looking down the taxonomic hierarchy, our cells—our very genomes—are tiny, symbiotic, cooperative communities in which every component member prospers together. Looking up, we always live in families embedded within communities, embedded in societies, embedded in ecosystems, embedded in the biosphere as a whole, or Gaia.

At every level, living things are generally collectivist. And, left to their own devices, humans are naturally collectivist. Nothing could be more normal than socialism. Every group of friends I've ever been part of was leaderless. We just organised ourselves without much effort. 

I do not deny that individuals and species compete with each other, sometimes violently. However, I emphatically believe that the incidence and importance of competition has been grossly overstated by scientists with ideological—reductive, patriarchal, and imperialist—views.

We might even say the togetherness is what gives human lives meaning and purpose. The many modern people who say that they lack meaning and purpose are inevitably disconnected or alienated from society. What we all need (except for psychopaths) is a sense of connection. And it is precisely this connectedness that modern political discourse—neoliberalism and capitalism—seeks to replace with the ideas of ownership, control, and competition. This is aberrant and abhorrent in a social species. 

We are social.
We are social.
We are social.

~~Φ~~

19 January 2024

On the Evolution of the Heart Sutra

The evolution of the Heart Sutra has been largely obscured by the historically dominant narratives and by the reluctance of Buddhist Studies to go beyond description and seek explanations. Watanabe Shōgo (1990) and Jan Nattier (1992) showed that the historical narratives about the Heart Sutra are pious fictions and pointed to another, rather unexpected history: the Heart Sutra was composed in China in the mid-seventh century. Their insights were subsequently confirmed by Huifeng (2014), and then I started publishing on this topic in 2015, both confirming the existing observations and adding a few of my own. While the field of Buddhist Studies (and the Buddhist world) has yet to catch up, it is now certain that the Chinese origins theory is correct.

Part of my contribution has been to step outside the usual descriptive mode of Buddhist Studies and propose explanations for the origins and evolution of the Heart Sutra. To date, my main focus has been on origins since this seemed to be the most urgent problem. More recently, I have begun to look at how the text evolved once it appeared ca 656 CE. In particular, I published an article on the varieties and relationships between the extended versions (Attwood 2021a).

In this essay, I will present a first attempt at an overview of the origins and the evolution of the Heart Sutra. I will explain why the variant texts on the Heart Sutra were produced and why they took the form that they did. In particular, I will argue that all of the major variants were created to bolster the perceived authenticity of the Heart Sutra. That the Heart Sutra appeared to lack authenticity in some eyes is hardly surprising given what we now know about its origins.

The centre of this argument is a simplified version of the stemma (or genealogy) of the Heart Sutra that I published in 2021. This diagram shows the relationships between the main inputs to the Heart Sutra and the five main versions that subsequently appeared.

Here a solid arrow represents the lines of descent, and the dotted arrow reflects the fact that Chinese extended versions repeat the text of Xīn jīng (T 251) where they overlap. Vertical spacing reflects relative chronology.

There are two processes to consider: an initial convergence in the Xīn jīng and a subsequent divergence into numerous versions of the text.

As much as the Xīn jīng reflects a convergence of texts, it also reflects a convergence of Indian and Chinese Buddhism. This may not be obvious since writing about Indian Buddhism and Chinese Buddhism tends to happen in different academic contexts that don’t communicate very well. This is sometimes referred to as “the silo mentality”. Even when there is some crossover, such as when scholars of Pāli literature study Chinese translations of Āgama texts, they see the Chinese translations as reflecting Indian culture rather than Chinese culture. Little or no attempt is made to read translated Āgama texts as Chinese texts.

This may be understandable in the case of Āgama texts but it doesn't work in the case of the Heart Sutra. The text was created in a Chinese Buddhist milieu and this is important for understanding it. However, the principal ideas in the text—Avalokiteśvara bodhisatva, Prajñāpāramitā, and dhāraṇī—all come from, and must understood in terms of, Indian Buddhism as well. Understanding the Heart Sutra requires us to have a foot in both camps, which may explain why the text has been so neglected and many of the articles that appear in print are low quality.


Convergence

The late Stefano Zacchetti (2005: 32) says that Kumārajīva's translation of Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā Prajñāpāramitā (Pañc) occurred during the period 29 May 403–13 Jan 404 CE. The Móhē bānrě bōluómì jīng «摩訶般若波羅蜜經» (T 223; Móhē) was completed with the help of several expert assistants and was a significant improvement on previous translations. In parallel Kumārajīva and his team translated the *Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa an extensive commentary attributed to Nāgārjuna. The Dàzhìdù lùn «大智度論» was completed on 1 Feb 406 CE.

During the process of translating the commentary, it became clear that Móhē required some revisions. Zacchetti says that these were complete by 18 May 404, but also says in a footnote (128) that one of Kumārajīva's principal assistants, Sengrui (僧睿; 371–438 CE), in his preface to the sutra, mentions revisions continuing to be made throughout the process of producing the Dàzhìdù lùn. The commentary and its text have guided the Chinese understanding of Prajñāpāramitā from that time onwards.

While we still don't know for sure who composed the Xīn jīng, it seems increasingly likely to have been Xuanzang. His name is associated with the earliest mention of the text, he is named in the oldest artefacts, and the earliest commentaries were by some of his close associates. My thorough exploration of this evidence has been submitted for peer review and with luck will be published in 2024. In this essay, after long and detailed consideration of the evidence, I assume that Xuanzang was the author. This is a provisional conclusion that may be subject to revision if some plausible refutation appears (implausible refutations already exist, but can be safely ignored).

Sometime between 654 CE and 26 December 656 CE, Xuanzang composed the Bānrě bōluómìduō xīn jīng «般若波羅蜜多心經» (T 251; Xīn). The earlier date reflects when the dhāraṇī was translated in the Tuóluóní jí jīng «陀羅尼集經» (T 901) by Atikūṭa. Since dhāraṇī transcription in China was never standardised, where we see an identical transcription in two different texts it is highly likely that one copied from the other. Given the nature of Xīn, which is mainly copied passages, I provisionally assume that Xuanzang copied the dhāraṇī from the Tuóluóní jí jīng. This means that Xīn could not have existed before this date. Note that Watanabe Shōgo (1990) definitively refuted the idea of Heart Sutra texts existing prior to the composition of the Xīn.

The later date is when the text is first mentioned in Buddhist literature, i.e. in the Biography of Xuanzang, Dà Táng dà Cí’ēnsì sānzàng fǎshī chuán xù «大唐大慈恩寺三藏法師傳序» (T 2053), composed by Yàncóng 彥悰 in 688 CE. The best translation of the Biography is Li (1995), but see also remarks on its historicity in Kotyk (2019).

There is no evidence of the Heart Sutra, of any kind, from any place, before 654 CE. From that date onwards, evidence in the form of inscriptions, manuscripts, catalogue entries, and commentaries proliferated and began to spread to neighbouring polities in Tibet, Korea, Japan, and Vietnam. There is no evidence of any kind from India and it now seems extremely unlikely the Heart Sutra was ever known there. The so-called Indo-Tibetan commentaries are better thought of as Tibetan commentaries attributed to Indian authors (a legitimising strategy).

Xin consists of some copied passages from Móhē, to which Xuanzang added some touches of his own (notably some novel "spellings" and the figure of Guanyin) and the dhāraṇī. Xīn became the standard Heart Sutra from that time onwards in China, Japan, Korea, and Vietnam. It is Xīn that people refer to when they say "The Heart Sutra is the most popular Mahāyāna text".

This part of the stemma also emphasises that passages from Pañc found in Hṛd did not arrive there directly. Contra the historically dominant narrative, the copied passages arrived via a Chinese intermediary, i.e. Móhē. That is, the passages copied from Pañc were not copied directly in Sanskrit from a Sanskrit source. Rather they were selected from Móhē, and only later were they (inexpertly) translated back into Sanskrit.

As Jan Nattier (1992: 170) pointed out, Hṛd bears all the hallmarks of a "back-translation". These include “unmatched but synonymous equivalents” for some Sanskrit terms and “incorrect word order, grammatical errors that can be traced to the structure of the intermediary language, and incorrect readings (due to visual confusion of certain letters or characters in the intermediary language)”.

Thus the Heart Sutra can be explained as the the result of a series of convergent processes and reflects also a convergence of Indian and Chinese Buddhist cultures. However, the text soon began to diverge into numerous versions and it is to these that that we now turn.


Divergence

From the Xīn we see three main lines of development that, as yet, cannot be precisely dated.

  1. The creation of the Dàmíngzhòu jīng (T 250) and its attribution to Kumārajīva
  2. The creation of the Sanskrit text titled Prajñāpāramitāhṛdaya.
  3. The creation of two extended texts.

Note that the dotted line from Xīn to the Chinese extended sutras (T 253, 254, 257) reflects the retention of the Chinese text of Xīn where they overlap. The phrase "two extended texts" refers to (1) the Chinese text of T 252, and (2) the Sanskrit Pañcaviṃśatikā-prajñāpāramitā-hṛdaya nāma dhāraṇī “Dhāraṇī named The Heart of the Perfection of Insight in Twenty-five [Lines]”. The Pañcaviṃśatikā was subsequently translated into Chinese (T 253, 254, 257).

I will take each of these versions in turn and try to show that each adds something that was perceived to be missing from the Heart Sutra. I don’t argue that there was any coordination between the three processes and, indeed, they seem to have occurred independently and over quite a long timeframe. However, together with the hagiographic stories about Xuanzang, they were embraced into the established myth of the Heart Sutra as an Indian Buddhist text.


1. Dàmíngzhòu jīng

The Heart Sutra was associated with Xuanzang from the outset and this might have been enough to ensure its place as an authentic Indian Buddhist sutra. The four early Chinese commentaries, however, still exhibit some anxiety on this score. The commentaries are:

  • Bōrě bōluómìduō xīn jīng yōuzàn «般若波羅蜜多心經幽贊» “Profound Explanation of the Sutra of the Essence of Prajñāpāramitā”, by Kuījī 窺基 (T 1710)
  • Fú shuō bōrě bōluómìduō xīn jīng zàn «佛說般若波羅蜜多心經贊» “Explanation of the Sutra of the Essence of Prajñāpāramitā” by Woncheuk 圓測 (T 1711)
  • Bōrě bōluómìduō xīn jīng shū «般若波羅蜜多心經疏» “Commentary on the Sutra of the Essence of Prajñāpāramitā” by Jìngmài 靖邁 (X 522)
  • Bōrě bōluómìduō xīn jīng lüèshū «般若波羅蜜多心經略疏» “Brief Commentary on the Sutra of the Essence of Prajñāpāramitā” by Fǎzàng 法藏 (T 1712).

Fǎzàng's commentary is traditionally dated to ca. 702 CE and he died in 712 CE. The other four are not dated, but Kuījī and Woncheuk died in 682 and 696 CE respectively. Jìngmài’s precise dates are unknown but he was roughly contemporary with Xuanzang. Thus they all date from the late seventh or early eighth centuries, and span perhaps twenty years (682–702).

Each commentator notes that the Heart Sutra lacks the expected introduction and conclusion of an authentic sutra. They also note that it consists of extractions from Prajñāpāramitā, which at that point in history seems to have been a reference to Móhē. All four men went ahead and composed their commentaries, but they left some ambiguity. Each of the subsequent developments in the Heart Sutra seems to address this ambiguity.

One approach to securing the authenticity of the text was to create the impression that previous translations existed, notably a translation attributed to the greatest of all the Chinese translators, Kumārajīva, i.e. Móhē bānrě bōluómì dàmíngzhòu jīng «摩訶般若波羅蜜大明呪經» (T 250; hereafter Dàmíngzhòu jīng). Note the title does not include the word xīn 心 "heart". Many of Kumārajiva's translations from the early fifth century are still in use today.

The idea of a Kumārajīva translation and the title it was given (Dàmíngzhòu jīng) were used to make links to another story about an even earlier translation, titled Móhē bānrě bōluómì shénzhòu 摩訶般若波羅蜜神呪. This created the myth of the "lost translation" by Zhī Qiān 支謙 (fl. 3rd century).

Watanabe (1990) thoroughly debunked this story, pointing out that it relies on a two-step process: (1) the false attribution of the shénzhòu text to Zhi Qian—in the catalogue Lìdài sānbǎo jì «歷代三寶紀» (T 2034), compiled by Fèi Chángfáng 費長房 in 598 CE—and (2) the conflation of this shénzhòu text with Dàmíngzhòu jīng. The debunking of this story (some 34 years ago) has not stopped commentators from continuing to use the idea of the "lost translations" to push back the date of translation and assert the validity of the claim that the text is Indian in origin. To be clear, neither Kumārajīva nor Zhi Qian translated the Heart Sutra. This is a false trail, deliberately laid.

In fact, the first evidence of the Dàmíngzhòu jīng, of any kind, is a mention in the Dàtáng nèidiǎn lù «大唐內典錄» "Catalogue of the Inner Canon of the Great Tang" (T 2149), published in 730 CE. As far as I can tell there are no physical texts of Dàmíngzhòu jīng before the eleventh century. The idea that a translation by Kumārajīva could be lost and then rediscovered some three hundred years after his death is extremely far-fetched and scholars have long doubted this attribution, starting with Matsumoto (1932).

That a text produced after Xīn might be retrospectively attributed to Kumārajīva to bolster its perceived authenticity is entirely plausible. It is not merely theoretical to say that Dàmíngzhòu jīng might have been used this way since this is exactly the use that has been made of it in practice. Indeed, we may say that legitimising Xīn is more or less the only use that has been made of the Dàmíngzhòu jīng. In stark contrast to Xīn, there are no commentaries on Dàmíngzhòu jīng, for example, and no prominent inscriptions or famous manuscripts. To my knowledge, Dàmíngzhòu jīng was never transmitted outside of China or translated into another language.

Dàmíngzhòu jīng, then, seems to have been created with the intention of making Xīn appear to be more authentic by pushing back the date of its composition.


2. Prajñāpāramitāhṛdaya.

In the historically dominant view, Xīn, the main text used in China, is a translation of this authentic Sanskrit version of the text. What some scholars still call "the Sanskrit original" proves that the Heart Sutra is an authentic Indian Buddhist sutra.

This view is spoiled by a detailed analysis of the text which shows that Hṛd definitely could not have borrowed its copied passages directly from Pañc. Rather the passages were clearly copied into Xīn from Móhē and then translated back into Sanskrit, leaving numerous telltales of the "back-translation" process. This was the gist of Nattier (1992) but has been confirmed numerous times by Huifeng (2014) and yours truly (see especially Attwood 2021b). The Sanskrit text is a translation of the Chinese. As such, it is not a stretch to refer to it as a "Chinese forgery".

It seems that the Sanskrit text was produced at around the same time as Dàmíngzhòu jīng was being created, i.e. in the late seventh or early eighth century. To date, we have no information on who did the translation or when. There is an ambiguous reference to "a Sanskrit text" (fàn běn 梵本) in Woncheuk's commentary (T 1711), though he does not name Hṛd and might have been referring to Pañc, since he says:

The reason there is no introduction or conclusion is that [this text] selects the essential outlines from all the Prajñā texts. It has only the main chapter, without an introduction and conclusion, just as the Guānyīn jīng is not composed of three sections (Adapted from Hyun Choo 2006: 138: emphasis added).

The Guānyīn jīng «觀音經» being originally the twenty-fifth chapter of the Miàofǎ liánhuá jīng «妙法蓮華經» (T 262; Skt. Saddharmapuṇḍarīka Sūtra), where it is titled Guānshìyīn púsà pǔmén pǐn 觀世音菩薩普門品 “Chapter of the Universal Gate of Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva”.

I assume that a manuscript of Hṛd was forged for this purpose, and passed off as an Indian “original” since later copies of a Sanskrit text do exist (such as the famous Hōryūji manuscript). A Sanskrit manuscript is the sine qua non of authenticity for a Buddhist text in China.

Now that it has been revealed to be a back-translation, Hṛd has little philological value. Those existing studies that treat this text as "the Sanskrit original" have to be deprecated. In a forthcoming article in Asian Literature and Translation, I revise Conze's unparsable Sanskrit edition of Hṛd to make it parsable. But even this was perceived as a dead end by one of the reviewers. Study of the Sanskrit text is now quite pointless except as a unique historical artefact from early Tang China.

It is not that rare for a Chinese Buddhist text to turn out to have been composed in Chinese. Examples of this have been well documented, even in antiquity. It is exceedingly rare for a Chinese text to be translated into Sanskrit. A few examples of this have been noted. To my knowledge, the Hṛd is unique for having been successfully passed off as an authentic Indian text.

The single most important sign of the authenticity of a Buddhist text in Tang China was precisely the existence of a Sanskrit manuscript. Once again, Hṛd appears to have been created to fill a perceived gap in the authentication of Xīn.


3. Extended Texts

All of the early commentators on Xīn comment on—and attempt to explain—the absence of the usual introduction and conclusion that we expect in Buddhist sutra (I cited Woncheuk on this above; the others make similar comments). The extended text is an attempt to supply exactly these missing sections and this appears to have happened at least twice.

The first extended text appears to be Pǔbiàn zhì cáng bānrě bōluómìduō xīn jīng «普遍智藏般若波羅蜜多心經» (T 252). This text has an introduction and conclusion that are substantially different from all other extended Heart Sutra texts. The introduction is much longer and has specific details —like the presence of 100,000 bhikṣus and 70,000 bodhisatvas—that are absent in all the other texts. At the same time, the conclusion of Pǔbiàn is much shorter and more perfunctory. It is quite striking that the significant differences here have been almost entirely overlooked by other scholars. For more, though still incomplete, detail see Attwood (2021a).

All the other extended texts are clearly from one source, probably in Sanskrit, though with Tibetan and Chinese translations. The Chinese versions of the extended text (i.e. T 253, 254, 257) appear to be genuine translations from Sanskrit. That said, all the Chinese versions, including Pǔbiàn, retain the text of Xīn and only retranslate the extensions.

Ben Nourse (2010) has noted several variant extended texts in the Dunhuang cache. He suggests that these may be hybrids of standard and extended texts, but an alternative explanation might be that they are additional attempts at creating an extended text. More work needs to be done on the Dunhuang texts.

So for a third time, we see the Heart Sutra being modified to better fit a Chinese preconception about authenticity, in this case, that a real sutra has an introduction and conclusion. Only here, however, do we see two (or possibly more) attempts at the same modification.


Conclusion

I have been engaged in explaining the origins of the Heart Sutra for around twelve years. It already seems like old news to me and I find it frustrating that no one in Buddhist Studies seems willing or able to keep up with my oeuvre. At some point, the textbooks will have to change and I only hope I live long enough to see this. How this affects Buddhists is anyone's guess, but I suspect that they will continue to resist all attempts at a deflationary explanation.

The evolution of the Heart Sutra beyond its origins has been of even less interest to the field (and of no interest to Buddhists). The existence of multiple versions is, of course, well known. However, the dates of these versions have been obscured by presuppositions and this has hampered any attempts to understand how the text evolved. Watanabe (1990) debunked the attributions to Kumārajīva and Zhi Qian, making it clear that Xīn is the earliest version of the text. But his work has largely been ignored (including by me until 2023). The dhāraṇī tells us that Xīn cannot have existed before 654 CE, when Atikūṭa transcribed it in Tuóluóní jí jīng «陀羅尼集經» (T 901). This is our starting point.

As we have seen, Xīn diverged into four other versions—ie. Dàmíngzhòu jīng, Hṛd, Pǔbiàn, and Pañcaviṃśatikā. I have argued that we can see these versions as the result of three processes:

  1. One attempt to push back the date of composition
  2. One attempt to create a "Sanskrit original"
  3. Two attempts to provide the missing introduction and conclusion.

In other words, the evolution of the Heart Sutra was driven by conscious attempts to make the origins of the Heart Sutra fit preconceived notions of authenticity in China. These attempts largely succeeded and the associated ideas were incorporated into the historically dominant narratives of the Heart Sutra as an ancient Indian sutra text.

What my work shows is that the Heart Sutra was never ancient, Indian, or a sutra. It was created in the mid-seventh century, in China, and is modelled on a chāo jīng 抄經 "digest text" (a Chinese genre of Buddhist text). And this created anxieties related to authenticity that were addressed in a variety of ways.

I hope that it is becoming clear to my readers that the historically dominant narrative, the myth of the Heart Sutra, is largely a fiction, created quite consciously (thought without much coordination) by Chinese Buddhists. If the Heart Sutra had been merely another ancient Indian sutra, it would have been quite prosaic, notable only for its popularity in East Asia. The idea that it was composed in China and deliberately (and successfully) passed off as an ancient Indian sutra is far more interesting (even a little exciting for a textual scholar).

While I am still not an expert in Chinese Buddhist texts, if I am right about this, it makes the Heart Sutra unique amongst Buddhist texts. Moreover, I think I am right because my approach has a great deal more explanatory power than the historically dominant narratives: expanding on existing work, I have explained the origins of the text in detail. I hope this essay shows that my approach can also explain subsequent developments in the Heart Sutra as well.

~~oOo~~


Bibliography

Attwood, Jayarava. (2021a). "Preliminary Notes on the Extended Heart Sutra in Chinese." Asian Literature and Translation 8(1): 63–85. DOI: http://doi.org/10.18573/alt.53

——. (2021b). “The Chinese Origins of the Heart Sutra Revisited: A Comparative Analysis of the Chinese and Sanskrit Texts.” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 44: 13–52.

Huifeng. (2014). "Apocryphal Treatment for Conze’s Heart Problems: Non-attainment, Apprehension, and Mental Hanging in the Prajñāpāramitā Hṛdaya." Journal of the Oxford Centre for Buddhist Studies 6: 72-105.

Hyun Choo, B. (2006). "An English Translation of the Banya paramilda simgyeong chan: Wonch’uk’s Commentary on the Heart Sūtra (Prajñāpāramitā-hṛdaya-sūtra)." International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 6: 121-205.

Kotyk, Jeffrey. (2019). ‘Chinese State and Buddhist Historical Sources on Xuanzang: Historicity and the Daci’en si sanzang fashi zhuan 大慈恩寺三藏法師傳’. T’oung Pao 105(5-6): 513–544. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1163/15685322-10556P01

Li, Rongxi (1995). A Biography of the Tripiṭaka Master of the Great Ci’en Monastery of the Great Tang Dynasty. Berkeley, CA.: Numata Centre of Buddhist Translation and Research.

Matsumoto, Tokumyo. (1932). Die Prajñāpāramitā Literatur. Rheinischen Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universitat zu Bonn.

Nattier, Jan (1992). "The Heart Sūtra: a Chinese apocryphal text?" Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies 15 (2): 153-223.

Nourse, Benjamin. (2010) "The Heart Sutra at Dunhuang." Paper presented at the North American Graduate Students Conference on Buddhist Studies. Toronto, Canada. April 10, 2010.

Watanabe, Shōgo. (1990). “Móhē bānrě bōluómì shénzhòu jīng and Móhē bānrě bōluómì dàmíngzhòu jīng, As Seen in the Sutra Catalogues.” Indogaku Bukkyōgaku Kenkyū 39-1: 54–58. [= 渡辺章悟. 1990. 「経録からみた『摩訶般若波羅蜜神呪経』と『摩訶般若波羅蜜大明呪経』」印度学仏教学研究 39-1: 54–58.]

Zacchetti, Stefano. (2005) In Praise of the Light: A Critical Synoptic Edition with an Annotated Translation of Chapters 1-3 of Dharmarakṣa’s Guang zan jing, Being the Earliest Chinese Translation of the Larger Prajñāpāramitā. (Bibliotheca Philologica et Philosophica Buddhica, 8). Tokyo: The International Research Institute of Advanced Buddhology, Soka University.

09 August 2019

We Need to Talk About Utilitarianism

Although there is some debate in universities over different approaches to ethics, the fact is that those of us living in developed societies have been steeped in utilitarianism all our lives and this has been the case for generations. Utilitarian ideas have dominated the moral landscape since the late 19th Century. And utilitarianism was developed by the early liberals. Utilitarianism is the moral philosophy of socio-economic liberalism. Economic liberals believe that trade will maximise utility without any help and thus morality in the abstract. They just want to do business and remove barriers to doing business (and this tells us who they are). Social liberals believe that societies must intervene and take action to ensure maximised utility and tend to have a more concrete and pragmatic approach. Liberals are not interested in equality of outcome, although social liberals pursue equality of opportunity. Economic liberals are ready to abdicate all decisions to the marketplace and financial necessity (including problems like global warming).

When I set out to describe liberalism, I noted that in its time it was a radical and progressive response to centuries of unquestioned absolutist rule. Tyranny, not just over the body, but also over the mind. Thomas Hobbes was a 17th Century transitional figure in that he raised questions about when citizens owe allegiance to a king. Soon, however, John Locke was asserting that liberty was innate in a person and not something that a king or slaver could grant, they could only take it away. However, it is important to keep in mind that classical liberals were all willing to take liberty away from some classes of people. John Locke argued for enslaving prisoners of war and for the expropriation of land and resources from first nation Americans. J. S. Mill campaigned for women's suffrage, but also for continued British rule in India. Thomas Jefferson argued against slavery but personally owned hundreds of slaves throughout his life.

However flawed the early articulators may have been, the concept of individual liberty took hold and fired up revolutionary fervor in France and the USA. It also captured the imaginations of the British intelligentsia and the bourgeoisie created by the Industrial Revolution. This, in turn, led to the assertion of individual liberty as a social, moral, and legal principle. At first, this really only applied to the elite: women, for example, were initially excluded enmasse along with people of colour.  Indeed, the only group that were seen as capable of exercising liberty were landowners, the very people who (literally) enslaved and exploited everyone else. Gradually, a new breed of liberal emerged that wanted to universalise liberty and to use the apparatus of the state to help individuals achieve liberty where it had been denied to them. New or social liberalism happened earlier in the UK than in the USA where exclusionary classical liberalism was and is a much greater force.

The central irony, then, of classical liberalism was its espousal of individual liberty, while denying liberty to whole classes of people. The neoclassical liberals, the ones who espouse an extreme form of economic liberalism, have that same exclusionary mindset. They are not quite the same as libertarians whose attitude is every man for himself. Rather, the economic liberals seek to appropriate and consolidate wealth and power, which they rationalise with a combination of twisted Darwinism and utilitarianism.

Having pulled down the idols of absolutist rule by priests and kings, however, created a whole new set of problems. This essay is about the liberal response to this change and why liberalism goes about it all wrong.


The Better Angels Argument
 
There will be readers already wanting to argue, along the same lines as Steven Pinker, that liberalism has in fact been very successful: people have more prosperity, freedom, and peace than ever before. I've already made the point that there is liberalism and liberalism. Classical liberalism created a vast amount of wealth but distributed it very unevenly. They moved a predominantly agrarian workforce into urban/manufacturing jobs, and thence into service industries, but job security and working conditions peaked in the 1970s. Since then uncertainty has crept back into work in the richest countries. There has been a decline in overall poverty, but this is largely because the elite are  exporting jobs to poor countries and grooming the world's poor to be the consumers of tomorrow.

It is doubtful that consumerism really does improve anyone's life. The major long term cost of consumerism is climate and ecological breakdown. No matter the positive impact that modern economic liberalism has had, it is about to be wiped out by climate change. We are already seeing the rise in the frequency and intensity of extreme weather events, both droughts and floods. We really don't know what is going to happen as we continue to heat the earth's atmosphere, but we can safely say that it won't been good for the majority of humanity (or non-human species). We are also seeing a collapse in the flying (i.e. pollinating) insect population across Europe. Economic liberalism is not the better angel of our nature. In all likelihood it has killed us via pollution, extreme weather, sea-level rise, and mass extinction.

The ideas at the heart of liberalism, especially "reason" and "self-interest" have led us to existential crises of unimaginable scope and scale. In retrospect our behaviour has been irrational and suicidal.

Yes, of course, classical liberalism has promoted trade between nations making war less likely. Pinker is right about that. But the staggering cost of this is now apparent. Even in the short term, government has been captured by wealthy special interest groups. Based on research they helped to fund, oil companies are redesigning their offshore rigs to cope with massive sea level rise, while at the same time lobbying governments to prevent effective responses to climate change by undermining the credibility of that same science. Worse, we have been fooled this way before, by Big Tobacco, who took the same approach in the mid-20th Century. But also by Big Finance leading up to the 2008 global financial crisis. The "big lie" is a term coined by Adolf Hitler in Mein Kampf (1925) to explain how Germany became Europe's whipping boy. Hitler's idea was developed as an active PR strategy by his PR advisor Joseph Goebbels. And now for Big Business, and politicians the big lie is part of their stock in trade.

It is social liberalism, rather than economic liberalism that has done more for expanding enfranchisement, reducing slavery, objecting to wars, and generally making people free. And which is (belatedly) coming around to trying to prevent and mitigate climate and ecological breakdown.


Political Divisions

Social and economic liberals are to some extent at odds over the role of the state in society. Economic liberals want to minimise the scope and power of the state to allow for business people to make unrestricted profits. Social liberals are willing to accept a larger scope for the state in order to give the poor a hand up (note this is not a hand out). It is this last point that distinguishes social liberals from socialists.

A social liberal wants the individual to prosper. They see that systems sometimes place barriers in the way of individuals and are willing to use the power of the state to level the playing field. Classic responses to systemic inequality are state funded and standardised education. But even education is tailored to finding a job and being a productive member of society. For liberals, the ideal is the self-made person, especially if they have come from humble beginnings. Someone who worked hard and overcame obstacles to become a success in material terms. It's no coincidence that the American Dream is couched in these terms.

Socialists, by contrast, do not see progress in terms of the progress of individuals. Progress is really only progress if everyone benefits equally. Socialists want not (only) equality of opportunity, but equality of outcome. They are more inclined to solve inequality by actively redistributing wealth towards the poor and using the state apparatus to inhibit wealth accumulation. The socialist ideal is more about making a contribution towards the flourishing of the nation, helping people who cannot help themselves.

Despite the ongoing use of the terms, modern politics is not about left-wing and right-wing any more. It is about the clash between economic (classical) liberals and social (new) liberals, i.e., between the right and the centre-right. Actual socialists are rare in Europe these days and absent in the USA. President Trump is centre-right in his economic policies (trade barriers to "protect" American workers are a classic social liberal policy). But he is strongly authoritarian, nationalistic, and racist, which is falsely attributed to the far right, but is in fact independent of the left/right access.

Utilitarianism encapsulates some of the ideals of liberalism, mostly classical/economic liberalism. It prioritises the individual and undervalues context, particularly the social nature of humanity. Utilitarianism was framed by the mercantile class and thus expresses the ideals of economic liberalism as though they are self-evident truths. Like liberalism, it was formulated by members of the educated elite who were (unconsciously) seeking justification for their behaviour on the world stage, i.e. brutal and rapacious empire.

How did we get to this point?


The Collapse of Idols

One of the most important roles of the ancient kings and prophets was as law givers and moral arbiters: The Code of Hammurabi, the Laws of Moses, the Dharma of Manu, the Annalects of Confucius, and dozens of others. And one of the recurring anxieties of history (down to the present) is that in the absence of obedience to such laws human beings would simply run amok. In the Western tradition this anxiety is manifested in Thomas Hobbes' highly influential book Leviathan. As I noted (On Liberty and Liberalism), Hobbes lived through a time of war and socio-political turmoil and as a result described the natural state of people as war. Hobbes' opinion that the life of man in the absence of a tyrant to rule over them was "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short". As a result he argued that only a strong authoritarian leader (the eponymous Leviathan) could impose order and civility on us.

Unfortunately, this view became quite widespread amongst Enlightenment intellectuals. They saw themselves as a uniquely civilised elite surrounded by a sea of barbarians (the rest of us). They probably read too much idealised Roman history and utopian fiction. They seem also to have been infected with a secular version of the "God's chosen people" myth. In particular, the classical liberals saw themselves as having risen above the hoi polloi. They saw themselves as establishing a new kind of rational social order, with themselves at the apex, that would displace the hereditary aristocracy and the Church.

However, they also saw themselves as facing exactly the same problems: how to protect the wealth and justify the power gained through exploitation; how to subdue and control the barbarians outside the gates and avoid the fate of the Roman Empire. The minds of the elite have been obsessed with this ever since. So on one hand they were wrestling with the problem of the collapse of traditional authority and on the other they were very much interested in taking over, exploiting, and expanding that authority. All they needed was some kind of justification that the masses would accept.


The New Idols

One of the products of the early successes of the Enlightenment was hubris. Natural philosophers or scientists as they came to be known, promoted the idea that the universe was a gigantic complex mechanism and that everything could be understood. At this point they did not know that the visible stars are part of a galaxy, or that it was one of approximately two trillion such galaxies, or that all the galaxies are flying apart at an accelerating rate. They were only just starting to get clues that matter could be divided and subdivided into very much smaller units.

The mechanistic universe followed predictable patterns and was governed by simple laws: F=ma, V=IR, 2H2+O2→2H2O and so on. French philosopher Auguste Comte envisaged an anthropocentric hierarchy of such laws. Physical laws would govern matter at the lowest scale and give rise to chemistry. Chemical laws would govern biology. Biological laws would govern the functions of minds, and laws of the mind would govern how societies function. This idea was taken up and developed by none other than J. S. Mill, hero of Liberalism and also one of the first generation of Emergentists. Mill was the first to describe matter as having emergent properties.

The idea here is that the world is governed by natural laws. And the key feature of such laws is that they don't require human intervention; they are universal, impersonal, and follow logical patterns that can be apprehended through the use of reason. Anyone can discover the natural laws for themselves, though in the myth only the elite had the required education and intelligence (women were still excluded from the elite). These laws became the new idols, and those who could discover them the new priests. The Copernican revolution was accompanied by a social revolution.

Many of the natural laws we take for granted were discovered by the classical liberals and their friends. The individual who could discern the law was at the heart of this new idolatry; he was Nietzsche's übermensch. Various threads of modernist thought exploited the new emerging dynamic giving rise to some new archetypes, or at least new manifestations of the what Nietzsche called Apollonian and Dionysian archetype. Most obviously "the scientist" discerns laws through observing nature and applying reason and logic; and "the artist" lives in contact with nature and discerns deeper truths through paying attention to their own subjectivity and through self-expression. Even the protestant plays the game, observing a personal relationship with god and allowing that to guide their actions. Of course, Luthor predates Hobbes by about 150 years, but arguably the loosening of the mental shackles imposed by the Catholic Church opened the way to other changes that loosened the shackles imposed by kings; and thus to the deposing of both.

We are not all as pessimistic as Hobbes. Still, being social animals, humans intuit that their lives must be governed by someone and many believe that they could be that person. Replacing the all powerful law givers with the idea of natural laws was a genuine breakthrough. Potentially, it shifted the power and authority to an abstract, but still natural, third party outside the group. In the early days, it seemed that natural laws would resolve all of our differences and conflicts. Heady stuff.

Of course this was hubris and it did not pan out as the Enlightenment figures hoped it would. There are limits to knowledge, some of which may turn out to be absolute. And the natural laws that might govern our lives, the social analogues of the formulas of physics and chemistry never really emerged. The increasing complexity inherent in the hierarchy of sciences meant that the Enlightenment project floundered and was eventually rejigged into modern science with its emphasis on uncertainty, and statistics, and our ongoing failure to understand quantum mechanics or to reconcile QM with relativity. The early promise of materialism faltered and it fell by the wayside.

What did happen was a swindle: the ideology of liberalism was passed off as a natural law.

With the classical liberal ideas of the individual (i.e. the individual, wealthy, educated, white man) as the chosen one of the new order and their individual liberty (from the oppression of the masses) as the sine qua non, came the emergence of a new form of morality, i.e., the Utilitarianism of J. S. Mill and Adam Smith. The pursuit of happiness was enshrined in the US constitution as a fundamental right, though it took some time until they abolish slavery and longer still to enfranchise women and the descendents of former slaves. Utilitarianism is framed in universal terms, but its founders still saw humanity in Hobbesian terms (i.e., in need of a good tyrant). In particular, the expansion of European imperialism shifted the narrative from a God-given right to rule over man and beast towards naturalistic arguments about survival of the fittest and the lack of fitness of some people to rule over themselves.


Rational Self-interest

If you hold individual liberty to be an inalienable right and also that there are almost no justifications for infringing that right (as did Locke and Mill), then there is really only one viable moral arbiter: each individual must decide for themselves how to behave. This is protestantism reductio ad absurdum. But when human nature is vicious, aggressive, and acquisitive something ought to stand in the way of one human simply killing another and taking their stuff.

The early liberals believed that men, and more especially educated white men like themselves, were in a position to rise above (Hobbesian) human nature through the use of reason and become their own moral arbiters. They partly did this by sending boys to private schools where education in the classics combined with beatings, humiliation, and peer pressure either shaped them into members of the elite or broke them. This is still the preferred route for the children of the elite, though methods have changed somewhat. Private school boys (and now girls) subtly learn that they are better than the masses and destined to be a limb of the modern polypod Leviathan, i.e., the State. Heads of the UK state are once again old Etonians as they were before social liberalism opened the door to common people like Margaret Thatcher.

As we have seen, the early liberals adhered to a view of reason as:
"a specific conscious mental process by which we apply logic to problems and arrive at knowledge of the truth, which then guides our decisions." (We Need to Talk About Reason)
If a citizen could be persuaded by reasoned arguments to follow some basically civilising prohibitions on barbaric behaviour (like murder and stealing), then there was really no need for anyone else to get involved. Lawful citizens ought to be free to go about their lawful business (the word "business" in this cliche is no accident). But this reveals another problem created by the destruction of the pre-modern idols. In religion there is a point to being obedient, i.e., salvation. If salvation is off the table, what is the motivation for being lawful?

In moving away from the lists of banned or taboo actions typical of religious morality, utilitarian liberals had a problem. What was the point of behaving yourself? Their fixation on the individual strictly limited the possible answers to this question. In the end, the best they could come up with was the lame idea that being good led to happiness.
“Happiness is the sole end of human action, and the promotion of it the test by which to judge of all human conduct” (J. S. Mill. Utilitarianism, X: 237).

For any individual, a moral life will consist of maximising happy outcomes; while for a society, morality becomes the greatest happiness for the greatest number. This is known as the greatest happiness principle. It is just as banal as it sounds. I'm sure most people think happiness is important, even if we do not agree that it is the "sole end" of human action. The founding fathers of America placed the pursuit of happiness alongside life and liberty as fundamental rights that all men have. But what exactly is happiness? In general, and against the grain of millennia of religious thinking, utilitarians argued that happiness is pleasure.

You know you are in the twilight zone when people who argue that humans are rational and make rational decisions at the same time argue that the sole end of human activity is an emotion and that the promotion of an emotion is the test of whether our rational decisions have been a success.

Any fan of Star Trek (original series) can see this contradiction in the character of Commander Spock, who consistently denies having any emotions although, because he is half human, he sometimes does display emotions to his acute embarrassment. The obvious question is raised from time to time. Why does Spock show preferences at all? It is, he claims, because it is logical. But what kind of logic is he talking about? Deductive? Inductive? Abductive? How can these guide us to, say, a moral decision? Doesn't it all depend on what we believe in the first place. And as Michael Taft says, "a belief is an emotion about an idea." Of course the TV show plays on the contradictions in Spock. His colleagues are constantly catching him out expressing and relying on emotions and teasing him about it. At which point he always becomes visibly annoyed. Another emotion. Later Star Trek writers took the idea of an emotionless man ever further in the form of Commander Data (who was more obviously crippled by his lack of emotions). But let us return to the main theme of utilitarianism.

Jeremy Bentham stated the happiness = pleasure argument quite crudely but, starting with J. S. Mill, utilitarians have refined the idea. Mill, for example, argued that mere quantity of pleasure it stimulated could not account for the goodness of an action. Indeed, Bentham's theory sounds like a justification of hedonism rather than a moral doctrine. Mill introduced a dimension of the quality of pleasure, arguing that some pleasures are better than others. In a sense Mill was just reflecting the elitism of his day which allowed the refined hedonism of the ruling classes, but frowned on and repressed the simple pleasures of the working classes. This class discrimination persists in the UK despite the muddling of the classes. Middle class British people, especially, like to mock both the elite and the workers. They are our satirists, though they often seem to target (other) celebrities rather than politicians. They are educated enough to understand the exercise of power, but excluded from wielding it, and contemptuous of those who are compelled by it (including themselves).

In the manner of philosophers, some responded that if there is a distinction in the quality of the pleasure then it implies something other than pleasure is involved: some being for this other thing (whatever it was) and some being against it. And so on. Philosophers are trained to argue without any sense of needing to make a contribution to knowledge: the ultimate liberal art.

A central plank in the economic theory associated with classical liberalism, especially associated with Adam Smith and his interpreters, is that "markets" create an invisible hand that steers the economy. The market here is an abstraction from market places. The idea of the market is attractive because it is presented in the form of a natural law; one that can order our lives for us, maximising utility and thus happiness. Markets also ensure fairness (which is why Alan Greenspan was reluctant to prosecute white collar criminals in the finance industry).

Smith's idea of the market is based on a crude understanding of supply and demand, where supply and demand is presented as a "law" (it really is not a "law"). In this view humans only make rational, self-interested decisions; humans are motivated to maximise their utility (i.e. pleasure) through their participation in the economic system. In the myth of supply and demand, a producer responds to demand by making more or less of their product. The market informs the producer about the level of demand via the price that people are willing to pay. And knowing the price of a commodity is tacitly equated to sufficient knowledge to operate in the marketplace rationally. When the cost of production exceeds the price people are willing to pay, production will fall. None of which is true!

By the mid 1970s (at the latest) mathematicians had shown that supply and demand was not, and could not be, lawful in that simplistic sense. Supply and demand, even on the micro scale, does not work (the reasons for this are spelled out in detail in Steve Keen's book Debunking Economics). What is worse, in order to fit this micro idea to the macro economy, i.e. the economy of a state considered as a whole, economists have had to make a series of assumptions, each of which assumes that the previous assumption is true. A macro economy typically consists of thousands if not millions of producers and products, multiple levels of suppliers, and millions of consumers, and none of it following the idealised supply and demand law. In order to make the equations of macro-economics work, the economist assumes that an economy consists of one producer selling one product directly to one consumer.


Philosophy is Bunk

Let's cut short all this frivolous philosophising and call bullshit on utilitarianism. It might still dominate our society, but utilitarianism is not true. Not only have Buddhists been saying so for 2500 odd years but the Positive Psychology movement have confirmed it though empiricism: the pursuit of pleasure does not lead to happiness. And it is not hard to see why.

If I have one digestive biscuit with a cup of tea that is pleasant. A second biscuit may still be pleasurable, but if I keep eating at some point the same combination of texture and sweetness becomes unpleasant, no matter how much tea I wash it down with. It is quite possible to make oneself sick from eating too many biscuits: pleasure turns to nausea. Any addict will tell you that as you become accustomed to a certain level of stimulation it normalises. To get pleasure from it, you either need more of it or the same amount more often. As many experimental psychologists have attested, we rapidly become habituated to pleasurable sensations so that there is a diminishing return from the simple minded pursuit of pleasure. Even the more sophisticated hierarchies of pleasures are bunk.

But more than this, there is the existential truth that every experience ends, and usually quite quickly, because it is dependent on attention, and attention wanders. No matter how much you enjoy an orgasm, it is short lived and soon over and you are back to casting about for some other source of pleasure. The cessation of pleasure itself is unpleasant. If pleasure is happiness then no one can ever be truly happy.

It is difficult for a proponent of self-interest to formulate any coherent moral doctrine since morality is about how we treat other people. Anyone who treats other people only according to their own best interests would in practice be regarded as monstrous rather than moral. Societies very often shun selfish people. Morality is relational or it is meaningless. Even consequentialist or virtue ethics have to define what counts as good/bad in relation to some standard and that standard has to be relational.


Morality is Relational
Fortunately, we don't have to waste too much time on utilitarianism: the pursuit of pleasure makes us unhappy and the pursuit of self-interest makes both us and other people unhappy. At this point we could ask two questions: Firstly, is there a better definition of happiness that could rescue utilitarianism? Secondly, is there a better basis for morality. Ultimately, the answers these questions are "no" and "yes", but I think it's interesting to dwell on the first question a little and here Buddhism has a small contribution to make.


What makes us happy?

Assuming that a human being has food, water, and shelter, what makes us happy is the company of other humans (and some domesticated animals). This is far and away the most important facet of wellbeing. We are social animals and we are happy when we are securely embedded in our social group. In general, our well-being is promoted by sublimating our own needs to serve the group.

Primate social groups are not utopian, and especially they are not a socialist utopia. Primate groups are all hierarchical and all primate groups are violent compared to human groups. They are held together by empathy and a keen sense of reciprocity (including the fear of violent retribution), but there are also some individuals who are well liked, who form coalitions to dominate the group although usually in a narrow sense. An alpha male chimp has primacy when it comes to mating with receptive females, but not in much else. He's also expected to lead the charge against leopards, get involved in all intra-group conflicts (on the side of the weaker party), and has to spend much more of his time grooming other chimps than any member of the group.

Violence also plays a part in primate social hierarchies. Having members of the group who are big enough, strong enough, and aggressive enough to protect the group from predators like leopards, and who defend the territory in which they feed against neighbouring groups, requires social mechanisms to manage that capacity when it is not needed. And thus Frans de Waal has observed older male chimps intervening to prevent conflicts between others, defusing tension through physical contact and grooming. When things do get out of hand, the alpha male is often the one consoling the injured party and reintegrating them into the group. In Bonobos, females play the same role. Conflict cannot simply go on occuring because it breaks down the bonds that hold the group together and undermines the fitness of the group to survive.

So on one level what makes us happy is to be part of a healthy social group. Of course we are also individuals with individual goals. The anonymity afforded by living in groups of tens of thousands and even millions, gives us much more scope for individuality than living in a traditional village of ca. 150 people. We only share minimal mutual obligations with strangers and even if our actions are scrutinised there may be few consequences for transgressive behaviour compared to a more traditional small-scale setting. However, there is another answer to this question that we should consider.


Ego Dissolution

I cannot speak to this from personal experience, but there is a load of anecdote and an increasing amount of actual evidence that the experience of ego-dissolution opens up the possibility of a much deeper sense of satisfaction and well-being. Indian meditation techniques have been inducing ego-dissolution for millennia, as has the use of psychedelic drugs. Importantly, ego-dissolution is often accompanied by a greater sense of interconnectedness. It can be experienced, for example, as a weakening of the boundaries between one's body and the outside world; or as a sense of oneness; or of merging into a totality. How it is interpreted is partly determined by one's cultural conditioning.

Transcending the sense of being an individual seems to be a more satisfying state. Self-interest cannot have much meaning for someone who does not organise their experience around a sense of self.

There is an argument, still largely doctrinal, that it is the ego which seeks to take ownership of experience that causes unhappiness. Even a temporary experience of ego-dissolution opens up the possibility of being in the world without the grasping after experience that causes dissatisfaction. Ordinary experiences, not even pleasurable experiences, become more satisfying and effortlessly so.

However, it is doubtful whether ego dissolution is a realistic possibility for the general populace. The people having this shift in perception have always been a tiny minority.


The Angels of Our Nature

A new approach emerges from evolutionary perspectives on the ethology of social animals. I have written several long essays on this subject, beginning with The Evolution of Morality. This view argues that what we call morality is an emergent feature of the way social mammals, particularly social primates, live.

As Frans de Waal has noted, we share the same body plan and have all the same internal organs, including the endocrine system, as other mammals, so it would be weird if we did not experience the same emotions. Importantly, we seem to have at least two characteristics in common with other social mammals: the ability to experience empathy and a sense of reciprocity.

Empathy operates on many levels, the most basic of which is emotional contagion. When a monkey sees an approaching predators and gives a warning cry, the sound of the cry stimulates fear in the whole colony and sets them all in motion away from the threat. But at its most sophisticated level empathy allows us to use observations of the facial expressions, posture, and gestures of other group members to internally model—and thus experience—the internal states of other individuals. We do this with individuals that we interact with, but we can also understand interactions between other pairs or groups of individuals. We not only know the disposition of a given individual, but we know how they feel about different members of the group. This is vital for the functioning of the social group.

Reciprocity is the application of this ability to know the minds of the rest of our group to keeping track of the contributions the group have all made to each other. The levels of mutual grooming between individuals are important to chimps for example. If everyone sees Steve and Dave grooming each other a lot, then we can safely assume that the two of them will stick together in a fight. So if I want to pick a fight with Steve, I need to wait until Dave is otherwise engaged. But equally, if I'm angling to be alpha, then I know that if I groom one of the pair, the other might also join my coalition.

In my account of the evolutionary origins of morality, I argued that, far from being selfish, social mammals must err on the side of generosity. We can think of reciprocity as a network of feedback loops. I share with you and you share with me; I withhold from you and you withhold from me. If there is no bias towards generosity the second, negative feedback loop would quickly reduce cooperation to zero, whereas social mammals are highly prosocial and highly cooperative.

What's more, we also know from primate ethology and from anthropology that societies often punish selfishness. Jared Diamond recounts the story of a fisherman who one day decided that he wasn't going to share his catch. Not only did the community respond very negatively, he got a reputation for being stingy and this continued to affect him for a long time afterwards. Reputation with respect to meeting mutual obligations within a social group is very important. After all, we evolved to be prosocial in order to better survive.

This approach to morality comes under the heading deontology: it concerns right, duties, and obligations. Sometimes deontology is caricatured as "rule following", but this is an over-simplification. We can still think of morality in terms of consequences (as the utilitarians did) but we understand that desirable and undesirable consequences are relative to our mutual obligations. Similarly, this does not prevent us from seeing morality as a matter of virtues, as long as we understand a virtue is defined in terms of mutual obligations. Generosity is a common virtue, for example, and it is a virtue because it plays a vital role in creating and maintaining mutual obligations.

One might even argue that this view is also consistent with a particularist account of morality - i.e. one in which there are no moral rules and we take each situation as it comes. It is true of this deontological approach to morality that rules may not be easy to articulate or apply because our commitment to mutual obligation can vary from group member to group member. We tend to have one set of rules for family and another for more distant group members. In other primate groups, familial relations are also important, though like us one or other sex will often leave home at sexual maturity and join another community (male chimps and female bonobos).


Cities and Megacities

As I have already observed, the limitation of this account of morality as evolved and based on mutual obligation is that the bulk of human now live in urban settings in which we are surrounded by, and mainly interact with, strangers with who we may have little or no sense of mutual obligation. According to Robin Dunbar's research on social groups and neocortex-to-brain volume ratios there is a physical limit to how many relationships of mutual obligation we can keep track of. Chimps live in groups of 30 - 50 while, other things being equal, humans tend to live in groups of around 150. But we also form looser arrangements with ca 500, 1500, 5000, and so on.

In a group of up to 150 we have a pretty good idea of the overall structure of mutual obligations amongst the group: we know who are friends or enemies or lovers; who is related to whom and how; we know who to ask for help; and we know who is where in the social hierarchy. And so on. Beyond this we begin to take membership on trust. We rely more on external emblems of membership such as personal adornment; this allows us to expand our circle of trust that an individual will be likely to meet their obligation to us.

If I am from the large tribe who paint their faces with red ochre and I meet a stranger whose face is painted with red ochre I can assume that they will be likely to interpret mutual obligations in the same way that I do. I don't have to worry too much about a false flag operation, because we kill any outsider who attempts to adopt our emblems and we have subtle ways of assuring ourselves of the authenticity of membership (shibboleths). Mutual membership of a large tribe means we will probably speak the same language and have the same worldview. I can trust this person and make agreements with them with some assurance that they won't break the agreement. This is still a relatively small world. 

Beyond this, when dealing with strangers we don't automatically have a relationship of mutual obligations. One of the main functions of governments (of all stripes) is the enforcement of contracts between strangers. And this brings us back to the need for laws that govern our behaviour. We need laws to government behaviour but not because Hobbes was right and our natural state is war. Rather, we may say that, in social primates, mutual obligation is only strongly experienced within one's  social group at the 150 layer. 

In a modern state ,we grow up understanding that we have a mutual obligation to the state. We obey laws and pay our taxes and, in return, the state attempts to create an environment that is safe and stable, and the state provides certain services. Importantly, the state seeks to balance the rights and duties of players who have differing amounts of power to prevent the exploitation of the weak (this is the classic alpha-primate role): So the state legislates the rights and duties of buyer and seller, landlord and tenant, employer and employee, and so on. Each state may have a different take on these rights and duties and they may change over time, but the role is the same. 

Philosophers like to use the fact that laws and conventions vary in different societies and states to argue against seeing morality in a unified way. Arguments for moral relativism are not tenable when we look at the structure and function of laws. Yes, to some extent laws are arbitrary and changeable, but they always serve the same functions within the society. It is a classic case of emergent properties in which the higher level (human society) is constrained by not determined by the lower level (primate ethology). By analogy, just because there are many different types of boat, does not mean that boats don't float. 

However, we may say that, under utilitarianism as an expression of economic liberalism and mercantilism, the rights of the rich and powerful tend to be protected ahead of the poor and vulnerable. I am still sometimes shocked at the difference in presumptions in New Zealand where I grew up, and in the United Kingdom where I live. The presumption in favour of landlords and employers, for example, is much stronger in the UK. Although to be fair, under the influence of neoliberalism this balance shifted in my time in New Zealand as well.

One of the features of the modern world is that morality is linked to socio-economic status in the minds of the ruling classes. To be wealthy is held to indicate superior moral qualities and, on the contrary, to be poor or without work is to be considered morally inferior. These days accepting state assistance when out of work requires that one almost becomes a ward of the state. The state undertakes to oversee your redemption in the form of returning to productive work. And to do this it uses a mixture of rewards, punishments, and psychological "nudges", including a barrage of press releases from government departments on the moral qualities of those individuals who accept state help. This is social liberalism in operation: paternalistically trying to make you into an ideal individual. 


Conclusion

Utilitarianism is ubiquitous as a moral theory across the English-speaking world. And yet the assumptions behind it are demonstrably false, the goals of it known to be unreachable, and the methods it proposes do not lead to the stated goals. Utilitarianism was supposedly the Enlightenment rationalism contribution to moral theory but it turns out to be completely irrational.

It's not that at some point people abandoned irrational religion and dedicated their lives to rational pursuits. As we've seen, the classical notion of reason that the moral theorising of Bentham, Mill, and Smith was based on was a fantasy. Many intellectuals did abandon religion, and atheism is now the standard position for English speaking intelligentsia, but there is nothing rational about the beliefs that they now profess with respect to morality. This is nowhere more apparent than in a BBC radio 4 programme called The Moral Maze in which the same group of opinionated neoclassical liberal intellectuals argue with invited guests about the "morality" of some situation. Moral principles are never articulated, but utilitarianism is assumed through out. The panellists adopt a position of superiority to their (often expert) guests and devise arguments against everything that is said. No wonder morality becomes a maze for the rest of us.


Etiquette

One problem is that not all social rules are moral rules. As Sangharakshita pointed out many years ago, for example, most of the rules in the Theravāda Vinaya have no moral significance at all and are merely a matter of etiquette. In her book, Watching the English, anthropologist, Kate Fox, described the complex rules for queuing to buy a drink in an English pub. These are significantly different from queuing in other contexts. Generally speaking the English take queuing very seriously so doing it wrong can result in verbally expressed disapproval. Such mutually agreed rules of conduct—etiquette—both help to establish reasonable expectations and to identify strangers. One of the reasons we may be stressed by immigrants is that they don't--they have not internalised our etiquette (as an immigrant I still struggle with this and cause stress for the locals, sometimes with a certain amount of delight on my part).

Why do we separate out moral rules and etiquette? Well, largely because of religion. Moral rules are those which relate to soteriology. Since atheists have abandoned the notion of soteriology, why have we not abandoned discussion of morals? Why do some decisions have moral connotations and others not. Why, for example, does editing a child's genome using the CRISPR/Cas9 technology seem to be a moral issue, but using food to calm a child down (leading to obesity and the attendant health problems) not seem to be? One is a matter of public debate and the other a matter of personal choice. Again I think answers to such questions can be found in primate ethology. There seem to be rules of human conduct that are non-arbitrary and ubiquitous across human groups (such as killing a member of the group) some that are arbitrary and vary with limit. And I think the deciding factor is the effect on the overall health of the group.


Alternatives?

The question, then, is whether there is any alternative to the moral maze created by treating liberalism in its various forms as a natural law and to utilitarianism as one expression of this. Or does this inevitably lead to objectionable moral relativism? I've hinted that I believe that primate ethology and a structuralist approach offer us some relief. In this view, despite the plethora of human societies each with its own rules, we can see the purpose of having such rules as being shared at some level of structure. As long as the rules accomplish the deeper purpose of binding the group and enabling cooperation it does not matter what form those rules take at a higher level of organisation. Indeed, to some extent the forms that human societies take are constrained by our underlying membership of the set of social primates. And these constraints have some objective basis, i.e. empathy and reciprocity. 

In my next essay in this "We need to talk about" series, I'm going to revisit this whole topic from the point of view of objective morality. It is often said that science cannot tell us how to behave, but I think this is now self-evidently inaccurate. Science, particularly the kind of Darwinian evolution articulated by Lynn Margulis, has been very influential on how I see morality, as has the primate ethology of Jane Goodall and Frans de Waal. Science disproves the validity of utilitarianism as a good basis for morality. Evolution and ethology have opened up a whole new way of thinking about what morality is, how we evolved to be moral, and what forms morality can or should take in human societies at different levels of organisation (as well as informing us as to the nature of those levels).


~~oOo~~


See also: Cooperation with high status individuals may increase one's own status https://phys.org/news/2019-08-cooperation-high-status-individuals.html

"The finding that status depends on cooperation provides insight into why human societies, particularly small-scale societies like the Tsimane, are relatively egalitarian compared to other primates," says von Rueden, joint lead author of the study. "Humans allocate status based on the benefits we can provide to others, often more than on the costs we can inflict. This is in part because humans evolved greater interdependence, relying on each other for learning skills, producing food, engaging in mutual defense and raising offspring."
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