Showing posts with label Free Energy Principle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Free Energy Principle. Show all posts

06 March 2026

Notes on Social Baseline Theory

Laughter is mediated strongly by social context: we are 30 times more likely to laugh if we are with someone else than if we are on our own (Scott et al. 2014: 1).
High quality social relationships correspond with longer, happier, and healthier lives—facts that hold true, as far as anyone knows, regardless of geography or culture (Coan and Sbarra 2015: 1)

I have long been an advocate for collectivism. My basic argument for collectivism is evolutionary rather than political: humans are an obligatorily social species; we evolved over millions of years to live in groups (small and large); and almost every feature of humanity only makes sense in this social perspective.

Moreover, one can see rudiments of the same social structures and processes in our great ape cousins, as well as in elephants, dolphins, and dogs. We also see them in some social birds. Nothing about the evolution of social species says that master-servant relationships are natural. Indeed, humans are the only mammals that enter into such relationships. If social species had a general motto, it would be:

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

I learned a great deal about this from Frans de Waal (1948 - 2024), the primate ethologist who regretted ever coining the widely misunderstood term "alpha male" (See this TED Talk video where he explains what it really means). More specifically, de Waal's book The Bonobo and the Atheist sketches out an evolutionary theory of morality as a feature of evolving to live socially (outlined in another TED Talk).

As the saying goes: "It takes a village to raise a child". This is not hyperbole. Apart from a handful of outliers, humans live in communities. Our genes generally get passed on within an extended community. The alternative, individualism, tends to be a pathology in a social species since individualism weakens the group and leaves individuals vulnerable to predators. Moreover, social isolation is known to cause both mental and physical health problems.

More recently, I have picked up on the idea of allostasis. I learned about this from Lisa Feldman Barrett's book How Emotions Are Made, but it also crops up in Karl Friston's free energy principle. I keep meaning to write something about the free energy principle, but haven't gotten to it yet. 

In this essay, I want to explore a newish idea that combines evolutionary perspectives on social lifestyles with allostasis. This new theory correlates extremely well with Frans de Waal's account of primate sociability and the evolution of morality. It also correlates well with Robin Dunbar's account of human evolution and the evolution of religion. These kinds of correlations with existing explanations (that I already find useful) are what I look for in a new idea. The best explanations are those that cover the broadest range of topics with the smallest number of assumptions.

I begin with some background on allostasis and the free energy principle, before outlining social baseline theory as it appears in the literature.


Homeostasis and Allostasis

We have long known that certain bodily processes are governed by feedback mechanisms that keep our bodies within specific limits, a goal known as homeostasis. The study of feedback in this sense is called cybernetics.

An obvious example of homeostasis in humans is body temperature, which ideally stays in a 1 °C range: 36.5–37.5 °C. That is, we ideally keep our body temperature to within half a degree of 37 °C. Prolonged periods of too low or high temperatures may be fatal. If we go below 36.5 °C, we get goosebumps and shiver, which warms us; if we go above 37.5 °C, we start to sweat, pant, and/or fan ourselves, which cools us. In this way, we can survive in air temperatures of roughly -50 °C to +50 °C. 

However, it soon became apparent that something more active was also going on, especially in the brain. Rather than relying entirely on reactive homeostasis, the brain is actually predicting what will happen next and preparing for that. Predictions are based on expectations formed from past experience. This process, which has the same goal as homeostasis, is called allostasis.

Allostasis is often likened to Bayesian inference, and for some, it is functionally similar to the idea of the Bayesian brain (although see also Mangalam (2025) for a critique). In Bayesian inference, we try to find the most likely outcome by iteratively improving our knowledge and using that knowledge to assess the likelihood of various possible outcomes. This is also similar to the scientific method more generally. We can take it to refer to a process of updating our expectations based on the available knowledge.

Karl Friston's free energy principle suggests that biological systems, right down to the level of individual cells, have Bayesian-like processes that minimise unexpected results, by either refining predictions or changing something (internal or external to the cell). There is a kind of intelligence here that is evident even in single-celled organisms. And Friston proposes that this process is driven by physical processes analogous to thermodynamics.

I should add that this "intelligence" is in no way connected to being aware or self-aware. The fact that we can see it in single-celled organisms means that it's a purely mechanistic process, albeit one of dazzling complexity (even at that scale). That said, it's difficult to watch, say, an amoeba pursuing its prey without imagining some kind of agency. However, this reflects a limit on the human imagination, not a statement about nature generally. Humans have a strong tendency to see agency where none exists, as explained by Justin L. Barrett in Why Would Anyone Believe in God? (which I have cited many times over the years).

We've probably all experienced "getting up top fast", where, rising from sitting to standing, we briefly get light-headed and dizzy. This is a minor failure in allostasis. What usually happens is that the desire to stand up occurs and the body automatically begins to prepare for it by, for example, raising your blood pressure. Better to be prepared and then not need it than to pass out from lack of blood in the brain every time you stand up in a hurry.

We need to be clear that the brain is not acting like a little person in this scenario. The brain, per se, does not know what's going on. The brain, per se, is not aware separately from our first-person perspective. At the end of the day, all the brain does is accept inputs and generate outputs. In human self-awareness, the functioning of the brain is entirely transparent to our first-person perspective. The brain was not even suspected to be where thinking goes on until the late 19th century. 

To date, we can only describe the functioning of the brain as a kind of "black box". The brain receives millions of inputs from nerves and its own neurons, it weighs and evaluates those inputs, and it then produces a variety of outputs, including actions such as changing the balance of substances in our blood, changing our respiration, and moving our body around. A movement like walking involves thousands of signals per second, going to hundreds of muscles, which must contract and relax in a very specific sequence, or we simply fall over. Balancing on two legs is an incredibly complex process, which is only made more difficult by moving around. However, such processes are also entirely transparent to our conscious mind, because conscious coordination on that scale would be far too slow to be useful, if it were possible at all.

As well as coordinating nerve inputs and outputs, the brain also coordinates energy inputs and outputs in the body. The brain tries to anticipate energy expenditure and tries to ensure that the body has sufficient resources. And this part is generally not under our conscious control. It involves feelings like hunger and satiation. It makes sense that the brain would seek to minimise or at least optimise energy expenditure when seeking any goal.

For example, we walk most places rather than sprinting at full speed. Sprinting requires very intensive use of resources that cannot be sustained over more than about 15 seconds, usually with a recovery time of several hours, which limits how often one can sprint. Fanny Blankers-Koen (Netherlands) won four sprint races in one day at the 1948 London Olympics, running a total of 580 m. Although note, she also went on a celebratory shopping spree before the final relay, arriving back at the stadium with only 10 minutes to spare. Blanker-Koen might have run in other races that day, but the organisers limited her to three individual races and one relay. Still there are limits. 

By contrast, humans can easily walk for several hours every day, day after day. Energy budgeting turns out to be a very powerful way of thinking about what the brain does. Slow and steady does win the race over long distances.

One of the striking features of Karl Friston's free energy principle is that cells, brains, and organisms use the same basic architecture to optimise energy expenditure. Hence, the incredible explanatory power of the free energy principle.

Friston says that optimising energy expenditure is based on making accurate predictions, or in other words, based on minimising surprises. Discrepancies between expectation and reality (aka surprises) are dealt with in one of two ways: change the prediction or change the input (i.e do an action). The less we have to change predictions or take unexpected actions, the better we can manage our energy expenditure.

I am still a bit vague about the next part of the argument. As I understand it, at present, Friston's most important contribution has been to mathematically describe this process of minimising surprise. This enabled him to show that minimising surprise is mathematically the same idea as minimising free energy in information theory. Moreover, both are mathematically equivalent to Bayesian inference.

If you watch interviews with Friston, he tends to switch between three approaches: his own mathematical description of surprise, information theory, and Bayesian theory. In order to follow his train of thought, one needs to know these topics quite well. And, honestly, I don't.

Another important concept is allostatic load, a term coined by Bruce McEwen and Eliot Stellar (1993). I have written about this before without knowing what it was called (see Rumination, the Stress Response, and Meditation. 22 January 2016). McEwen and Stellar (1993: 2093) define allostatic load as:

...the cost of chronic exposure to fluctuating or heightened neural or neuroendocrine response resulting from repeated or chronic environmental challenge that an individual reacts to as being particularly stressful.

Allostatic load has measurable consequences, such as changes in blood pressure and cortisol levels. It is a physiological process whereby an organism can become depleted by constant stress. I first observed this in a biology class in 1982 while studying earthworms. I especially noted that fight or flight responses rapidly drain our resources (especially in the endocrine system), which take some time to recover. For example, physiological arousal causes our adrenal glands to secrete adrenaline (aka epinephrine). The adrenaline is released in milliseconds, but it takes several hours to replenish. While we try to keep some in reserve, chronic arousal depletes the store. If our store of adrenaline is exhausted, the body tries to become aroused, i.e. ready to fight or flee, but it cannot respond. 

Repeated stimulation of these responses without time to recover leads to responses of diminishing intensity until we become unable to respond. In my earlier essay, I made a connection from this to what doctors in the UK call major depression (aka clinical depression). And I characterised depression as a collapse of our ability to respond to stimuli as the result of hyper-stimulation or what I would now call allostatic overload. Many have noted that the symptoms of depression are as much physical as mental.  Physical exhaustion is a common symptom of depression, consistent with adrenaline depletion. A recent review of many studies (Gou et al 2025) confirms my suspicion:

High [allostatic load] is positively associated with increased risks of depression, anxiety, and suicide, highlighting its potential as a predictive tool in mental health.

With this preamble complete, we can now explore an idea that applies this same kind of insight on a higher level of organisation: the social group.


Social Baseline Theory

Social Baseline Theory was first proposed by Lane Beckes and James A. Coan in 2011. With subsequent contributions from David A. Sbarra and others. I should emphasise that social baseline theory is still relatively new. While it emerges from considering patterns in neuroscience evidence, it is still somewhat speculative. I'm enthusiastic because what has emerged to date is very consistent with ideas that I've been writing about for a decade or more. To me, it makes good sense, and I find it a useful addition to how I think about humanity.

The basic insight of social baseline theory is that, having evolved to live in groups, one of the things we expect in our optimisation of energy expenditure is social input. In this view, having good social connections is part of the baseline of being social. Our social group is perceived by the body as a resource that it can draw on. A corollary of this is that not having those connections is actually a drain on us.

As noted, Friston sees the same kind of allostatic mechanism operating in both cells, brains, and organisms. Here, Beckes and Coan extend this same reasoning to social groups. The abstract from the original paper is an excellent (if jargon-heavy) summary:

Social proximity and interaction attenuate cardiovascular arousal, facilitate the development of non-anxious temperament, inhibit the release of stress hormones, reduce threat-related neural activation, and generally promote health and longevity. Conversely, social subordination, rejection and isolation are powerful sources of stress and compromised health. Drawing on the biological principle of economy of action, perception / action links, and the brain’s propensity to act as a Bayesian predictor, Social Baseline Theory (SBT) proposes that the primary ecology to which human beings are adapted is one that is rich with other humans. Moreover, SBT suggests that the presence of other people helps individuals to conserve important and often metabolically costly somatic and neural resources through the social regulation of emotion. (Beckes & Coan 2011)

This might be too technical for some, so let's unpack it by working through their argument. In this view, then, humans require the presence of other humans to help regulate our bodies.

...the human brain is designed to assume that it is embedded within a relatively predictable social network characterized by familiarity, joint attention, shared goals, and interdependence. (Beckes and Coan 2011: 976-977)

The brain was not "designed". I would say that the brain evolved to expect being socially embedded. Other than this quibble, this part of the explanation seems reasonably clear. The fact that we evolved to live in communities means that the presence of a community is something that we expect to be present. It would be weird not to. It also makes the absence of a community notable. In short, evolution has optimised our bodies and minds for living in close-knit communities. And as Frans de Waal noted, social animals have two capacities in common: empathy and reciprocity. We respond emotionally to our community and they to us. 

The presence or absence of a supportive social environment is evident in our blood, especially during stressful events. Individuals carry the whole load of the stress, communities distribute it. 

What Beckes and Coan are saying is that allostasis which we can see operating in cells and brains, can also be seen to operate at the level of communities

Moreover, Beckes, Coan and others have observed that when social support is available, the parts of the brain believed to be involved in self-regulating emotions are less active. Which suggests that the regulation of emotions in social situations works by a different mechanism. This leads to socialised awareness:

When proximity [to a supportive community] is maintained or reestablished, the brain is simply less vigilant for potential threats, because it is embedded within the social environment to which it is adapted. (Beckes and Coan 2011: 977)

There are specific biological mechanisms that make being in a social group more energy efficient for all the individuals involved. 

Both social baseline theory and the free energy principle assume that one of the main roles of the brain is optimising the body's energy use. And many studies in both humans and animals support this conclusion (Beckes and Coan 2011: 978).

There are two principal benefits to this: risk distribution and load sharing.

Even though group living can be costly in terms of resource competition, overall fitness is enhanced in groups by decreasing the risk of predation, injury, and other potential threats (Krebs & Davies, 1993)... Thus, social groups typically settle into sizes that optimize access to food against the distribution of risk across group members. (Beckes and Coan 2011: 978)

Risk distribution is more or less just safety in numbers. If the task is spotting predators, for example, then having a dozen pairs of eyes is more efficient than just one. This means that when someone "has your back", you are able to use energy more efficiently.

Loading sharing is a distribution of effort towards common goals (Coan & Sbarra 2015: 2). This takes on more significance in the light of allostatic load. Sharing the allostatic load decreases the cost of responding to stress, by distributing it across the group.

Load sharing means that the activities of other group members provide benefits to the individual, whether the individual participates or not. For example, in foraging societies, we often see men focused on hunting and women focused on gathering (and sometimes cultivating) plants. Women benefit from having meat, and men benefit from having vegetables. And both benefit from the specialisation that leads to enhanced expertise. 

We feel less threatened by surprising stimuli when we are in the presence of someone with whom we share a bond. In this view, our social network becomes an extension of our self. Normally, the presence of other people helps us to regulate our emotions in ways that are more efficient than simple self-regulation.

Many theorists have suggested that the self is “expanded” by relationships with others [26]. This may be literally true at the neural level. For example, the brain encodes threats directed at familiar others very similarly to how it encodes threats directed at the self—but no such similarity obtains for strangers [27]. (Coan & Sbarra 2015: 3)

This appears to be consistent with the idea that identity in some societies is more social than amongst industrialised Europeans and colonists. Indeed, the rampant individualism associated with the Neoliberal Revolution can be seen as a pathological state for a social species. We cannot survive alone, much less attain our broader aims in life.

An extension of social baseline theory involving the concept of allostatic load was proposed by Saxbe et al (2020). They proposed that allostatic load has a social analogue. This makes sense. In a social group characterised by the capacities for empathy and reciprocity, we might imagine that emotional contagion generalises.

Robin Dunbar (2014, 2023) has observed that group bonding in non-human primates is strongly based on one-to-one activities, especially grooming. Grooming stimulates endorphins, which mediate our sense of well-being. Grooming calms both the individuals involved and creates a sense of bonding (or attachment).

However, Dunbar points out that human groups have grown too large for one-to-one grooming to be efficient. We simply don't have time for ~150 individuals to spend enough time grooming each other for this to work. What we have instead are group activities that achieve the same end. Notably, collective practices such as singing and dancing together have the same effect on our sense of well-being as grooming does in other animals.

The idea of social allostatic load is that our relationships help us to regulate our emotions. And the loss of relationships then puts additional stress on the individual.


Conclusion

None of this seems surprising or counterintuitive. It is entirely consistent with the idea that we evolved, over millions of years, to live in social groups. It is also consistent with the idea that we employ both homeostatic and allostatic processes at a variety of scales.

...the brain manages energy and behavior by making predictions about outcomes given (i) the current situation (particularly constraints, risks, and opportunities), (ii) the predicted possible future situation(s), (iii) situational goals, (iv) current energy states, and (v) expected future energy states (Beckes and Coan 2011: 980-981).

Or as Coan and Sbarra (2015: 1) put it:

... the human brain assumes proximity to social resources—resources that comprise the intrinsically social environment to which it is adapted. Put another way, the human brain expects access to relationships characterized by interdependence, shared goals, and joint attention.

My comment here is that the human brain is like this because we evolved to live in communities.

Beckes and Coan also make the link from Social Baseline Theory to another popular model: Attachment Theory. This is a topic for another essay, I just wanted to note the connection. 

Some readers may recall that I often cite Ariel Glucklich (1997) when talking about magic. In his book The End of Magic, he says

Magic is based on a unique type of consciousness: the awareness of the interrelatedness of all things in the world by means of simple but refined sense perception... magical actions... constitute a direct, ritual way of restoring the experience of relatedness in cases where that experience has been broken by disease, drought, war, or any number of other events. (1997: 12)

However, in refreshing my memory of that first citation in 2008, I noticed something that I usually forget. The next part of the story is:

[Magic] is a natural phenomenon, the product of our evolution as a human species and an acquired ability for adapting to various ecological and social environments. (1997: 12)

As I say, I find an idea more compelling when it fits with other explanations I find useful. One idea that explains numerous phenomena is more compelling than an idea that explains one phenomenon in isolation. We could now say that "magic" exploits the effects described by social baseline theory. A sense of being securely connected to our social environment is essential to health and well-being.

And thus the general sense of alienation and isolation that pervades British and (more so) US culture is a symptom of a deep malaise. The Neoliberals sought to downplay "society" in order to foster extreme forms of individualism (including libertarians and billionaires), which have been all too clearly detrimental to both Britain and the USA.

Stressed by constant change, constant threats to our livelihood, and threats to our communities, we begin to experience allostatic overload. Depression and anxiety are some of the most obvious results. Given the pace of change in my lifetime and the disruptions caused by the Neoliberal revolution, we might expect to see sharp increases in mental health problems after the 1980s. And we do. 

And this leads me to one last connection. In an article that dramatically changed how I see modern politics, Karen Stenner (2020) describes how and why some people opt to support authoritarian leaders. In Stenner's terms, people with the authoritarian disposition make up around 30% of the population. They are characterised by low scores on IQ tests and low scores on the Big 5 criterion of openness to experience. Such people want sameness (group conformity) and oneness (group authority). When that expectation is denied and combined with, say, perceived economic hardship (such as a decline in living standards), then they support the first authoritarian ruler who comes along promising a return to the "good old days". Thus, we can see the rise of fascism in the 21st century as a response to social allostatic overload caused by the neoliberal revolution. 

As I say, social baseline theory is relatively new still. More research needs to be done to establish it in the scientific community. That said, the idea that we rely on other people is a no-brainer. We do. Of course we do. What we are doing here is not stating some new and hitherto unsuspected truth. Rather, we are finessing and "putting the eyebrows on" something that everyone knows. 

Social baseline theory emphasises that, for an obligatorily social animal, the lack of a social context prevents us from optimising our energy expenditure and is detrimental to our health and well-being.

~~Φ~~


Bibliography

Barrett, Justin L. (2004). Why Would Anyone Believe in God? Altamira Press.

Beckes, L., & Coan, J. A. (2011). "Social baseline theory: The role of social proximity in emotion and economy of action." Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 5(12), 976–988. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1751-9004.2011.00400.x

Coan, J. A., & Sbarra, D. A. (2015). "Social Baseline Theory: The Social Regulation of Risk and Effort." Current Opinion in Psychology 1: 87–91. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.copsyc.2014.12.021 https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4375548/

Dunbar, Robin. (2014). Human Evolution: A Pelican Introduction. Pelican.

Dunbar, Robin. (2023). How Religion Evolved: And Why It Endures. Penguin.

Glucklich, Ariel. (1997). The end of magic. New York, Oxford University Press.

Gou, Y., Chenga, S., Kanga, M. et al. (2025). "Association of Allostatic Load With Depression, Anxiety, and Suicide: A Prospective Cohort Study." Archival Report 97(8): 786-793. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.biopsych.2024.09.026

Mangalam, M. (2025). "The myth of the Bayesian brain." European Journal of Applied Physiology, 125(10), 2643–2677. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00421-025-05855-6

McEwen, B.S. & Stellar, E. (1993). "Stress and the individual. Mechanisms leading to disease". Archives of Internal Medicine 153(18): 2093–2101. doi:10.1001/archinte.153.18.2093.

Saxbe, D. E., Beckes, L., Stoycos, S. A., & Coan, J. A. (2020). "Social Allostasis and Social Allostatic Load: A New Model for Research in Social Dynamics, Stress, and Health." Perspectives on psychological science: a journal of the Association for Psychological Science 15(2): 469–482. https://doi.org/10.1177/1745691619876528

Scott, S. K., Lavan, N., Chen, S., & McGettigan, C. (2014). "The social life of laughter." Trends in Cognitive Sciences 18(12): 618–620. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tics.2014.09.002

Stenner, Karen. 2020. "Authoritarianism." Hope Not Hate. https://hopenothate.org.uk/2020/11/01/authoritarianism/

03 June 2022

Buddhist "Ethics" and Sensory Deprivation

In my previous essay, I argued for a link between meditation and sensory deprivation: more specifically that meditation, viewed as withdrawal of attention from the sensorium, causes (non-pathological) hallucinations in the same way that sensory deprivation does. In this essay, I want to broaden the scope to look at śīla "conduct" in the light of this link and its place in the threefold path: śīla, samādhi, and prajñā. Along the way I introduce the Spiral Path (which ought to be familiar to my readers) and Karl Friston's free energy principle. 

It is common to translate śīla as "ethics", even though we have known for some time that Buddhism has no ethics. That is to say, traditional Buddhism produced no treatise on ethics. Here, I am making the philosophical distinction between morality as rules of conduct (pañcaśīla, praṭimokṣa) and ethics as the principles or meta-rules that guide the formation of rules. Alternatively we could think of ethics as the reasons for following moral rules. The lack of ethics in Buddhism has been a problem for those of us who wish to adapt Buddhism to modern life. On one hand, we have no guidance for forming new rules and, on the other, we have yet to write our own ethical treatises. Europeans, much like their Buddhist counterparts in Asia, have filled in the lacuna by drawing upon their own culture. European Buddhists tend to be liberals (of various types including, more recently, neoliberals) and as David Chapman discovered in relation to US "Consensus Buddhism" we tend to see liberal values as Buddhist values, because after all these are our values and we are Buddhists. It's a shame David McMahan did not include liberalism amongst his important factors of modernity, in Buddhist Modernism

Here I want to revisit some research I did before getting sucked into the Heart Sutra vortex.


Ethics and the Spiral Path

In Triratna we emphasise what Sangharakshita called the Spiral Path, for which we tend to use his book The Three Jewels (1967) as the principal source. I published a scholarly essay on this formulation of the Buddhist path (Attwood 2013). I also created an infographic (right) which describes the main features and variants of these texts.

Sangharakshita based his exposition on the Upanisā Sutta (SN 12:23) which is something of an oddity. Ayya Khema (1991) and Bodhi (1980) also composed commentaries on the Upanisā Sutta, the latter directly in response to Sangharakshita (who used Sanskrit technical terms rather than Pāli). However, in my view, the locus classicus for this doctrinal formulation should be considered the first five suttas of the Dasakanipātapāḷi and the Ekādasakanipātapāḷi of the Aṅguttara Nikāya (i.e. the Tenfold Chapter and Elevenfold Chapter)*.

* The reason we cite both is that, while otherwise the texts in the different chapters are identical, in the Tenfold Chapter, nibbidā and virāga are treated as one step, while in the Elevenfold Chapter. they are treated as two.

The Spiral Path describes a form of conditionality that has a different emphasis from the one that most Buddhists are focussed on. The presence of one condition naturally (effortlessly) gives rise to the effect, which then becomes the condition for the next effect, in a cumulative manner. In some cases it is accompanied by the image of water overflowing from one container to the next like a champagne fountain. 

This doctrine is less systematic than its counterpart the twelve nidānas and, at least in Pāli, shows little standardisation, especially in the early stages. The Chinese counterparts of these texts, collected in the Chinese Madhyamāgama translation (MĀ 42-55), have been homogenised to a greater extent, though some variations remain.

When I looked at all of the forty or so Pāli suttas that have some version of the Spiral Path, I could see a familiar pattern. I was able to show that the Spiral Path is in fact an elaboration of the threefold path: śīla, samādhi, and prajñā, which we routinely see translated as "ethics, meditation, and wisdom" One of the salient features of the threefold path in these suttas is the two liminal states that link the three phases. So in śīla we see a range of techniques that culminate in pāmojja "joy" (also pāmujja; Skt prāmodya) which is a result of śīla rather and an example of śīla. In her exposition of the Spiral Path, Ayya Khema (1991) refers to pāmojja as a necessary prerequisite for meditation. Pāmojja is the culmination of practising sīla and the doorway to samādhi. Similarly, the stages of meditation in the spiral path texts—pīti, passadhi, sukha, and samādhi; which seem to approximate the stages of jhāna—lead to another liminal state: yathabhūtañāṇadassaṇa "knowledge and vision of things as they are". Knowledge and vision opens the door to the prajñā stage of the threefold path, i.e. one becomes fed up with sensory experience (nibbidā) and rejects it (virāga), resulting in either liberation (vimokkha) and the knowledge of liberation (vimokkhañāṇa), or the cutting off of karma-making (āsavakkhaya) and the knowledge of this (āsavakkhayañāṇa).


Defining Śīla.

One approach to defining śīla would be to list all the practices that lead up to pamojjā in the Spiral Path literature and look for patterns. From my 2013 article here is such a list:

  • saṃvara/saṃvuta "restraint"
  • indriyesu guttadvāra "guarding the sense doors"
  • yoniso-manasikāra "wise attention"
  • appamattassa vihārato "dwelling vigilantly"
  • sati sampajañña "mindfulness and attentiveness"
  • hiri-otappa "shame & scruple" (AN 8.81)
  • sīla "behaviour"
  • kusalāni sīlāni "virtuous behaviour"
  • saddhā "faith".

Of these, the only practices with an explicit moral character are shame (hiri) and scruple (ottapa). Like mindfulness (sati) and full attention (sampajañña), these two terms often occur together and are often poorly distinguished in the literature. They are said to reflect one's active recognition of an unskilful act, and the fear of being judged unskilful by the discriminating (viññū) members of the Buddhist community. And keep in mind that these are not passive feelings about actions, these are practices or, in other words, these are actions that one consciously and voluntarily engages in for the purposes of achieving the goals of Buddhism, including the ultimate goal of ending rebirth. 

The odd one out is "faith" (saddhā). Despite a great deal being written about faith in Buddhism, I have yet to see a modern English account that accurately reflects saddhā as I encounter it in Pāli. In the suttas, saddhā is that feeling when one has listened to the Buddha talk about his teaching, it makes you want to try what he's talking about. What saddhā means, then, is less about faith (unreasoning and/or unreasoned belief) than it is about enthusiasm combined with intention. Enthusiasm for Buddhist practices based on understanding an explanation by an expert, and an intention to try it out. This is not an unreasoning belief as faith in Christianity is supposed to be. Nor is this confidence in the teachings based on experience. The quality of having confidence in the practices as described is called aveccapasāda "perfect clarity". Saddhā is "faith" in the reasoned sense that having listened to a presentation on Dharma, one finds it plausible enough to want to go ahead and try it. Unreasoned faith comes into Buddhism only with the advent of so-called "Pure Land Buddhism", with the focus of the early centuries being initially on Akṣobhya and his realm of Abhirati, before moving to Amitābha and Sukhāvati. Neither is part of our universe but both are able to appear in our universe to succor those who have sufficient faith, with a gradually lowering bar on "sufficient". 

The bulk of these ideas, by contrast, are not obviously moral in character and, indeed, they involve minimising, to the point of elimination, interacting with other people rather than improving the quality of those interactions. More precisely the practices listed as comprising śīla appear to aim to limit our relationship with sensory experience. Here, for example, we are counselled to reduce input, to stop ourselves from seeking out sensory experience, to guard the sense doors (against the intrusion of sensory experience), to attend to the sensorium wisely, i.e. to not be intoxicated (appamāda) by experience but to remain indifferent (virāga) to it. These are not instructions on how to treat other people well (morality), nor are they principles for treating people well (ethics). They mostly involve avoiding and ignoring other people as much as possible. The idea for Buddhists being the solitary retreat. 

From the point of view of modern Buddhists, śīla is about our moral conduct. We link śīla not to these practices of restraint, but to the precepts (sikkhapāda) or monastic rules (vinaya, paṭimokkha) or some other formulation. The Spiral Path texts, by contrast, don't mention precepts or rules. So there is a disconnect between the received tradition of Buddhist rules of conduct and this formulation of the path of Buddhism. Treating people well is not really considered in this context. Rather one is largely concerned with maintaining social isolation and having a sober relationship with sensory experience; concerned with reducing sensory input. It seems to me that śīla as a moral teaching came along after the fact as a sop for people who were not spending their days in samādhi.

If śīla is not principally about moral conduct, if Buddhism moral rules are an afterthought, then what is śīla concerned with? Here I foreground the idea of restraining the senses and try to relate it to the idea that sensory deprivation is an important component of Buddhist meditation. 


Śīla as Preparation for Meditation.

The threefold way formulation of Buddhism includes the idea that śīla is preparatory. Specifically, we learn that śīla prepares us for the samādhi "meditation" phase. Moreover, the Spiral Path texts suggest that the significant result of our preparation is pāmojja "joy". In this view, śīla leaves us with an untroubled conscience which then facilitates our entry into jhāna and other altered states". And this is not wrong. It is explicitly included in the Spiral Path texts in AN 11.1, where the benefit of wholesome conduct (kusalāni sīlāni) is non-regret (avippaṭisāro) which in turn is the condition for pāmojja, which, as we have seen, is the doorway to meditation. It's not hard to interpret this as relating to morality. "Non-regret" appears to tie in with seemingly moral practices such as shame (hiri) and scruple (ottapa). In this context, "wholesome conduct" seems to suggest the practices of restraint that we find in the other Spiral Path texts.

In most cases, the idea that good behaviour contributes to liberation is largely concerned with obtaining the right kind of fortunate rebirth. It needs emphasising that, for Buddhists, good behaviour alone provides no escape from saṃsāra. Good actions (kusalāni sīlāni) result in a good rebirth destination (suggati), but the acme of Buddhism is the cessation of rebirth. This can only be accomplished once we stop making new karma. And we only stop making karma when we see things as they are.

What if the point of śīla in this context was not morality? What if these behavioural norms were actually intended to help us cope with the intense sensory deprivation of samādhi meditation?

Experience shows that difficulty applying meditation techniques is often correlated to how busy one's life is. The Buddha almost always recommends that a meditator should detach themselves from society, to find a deserted spot in the wilderness, far away from the intense sensory stimulation of town, village, or monastery. Buddhist monastics are supposed to definitively severe their social connections and live adrift from society. As the Buddha says in a memorable Vinaya passage,

"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).

The ideal Buddhist meditator is solitary, isolated, and disenchanted with sensory experience.

As noted in the previous essay, it is very common for meditators to meet hallucinations when they practice, almost ubiquitous. Even complete beginners can meet with hallucinations the first time they try it (I've known people for whom this was true). For the most part, these gross hallucinations are a barrier to deeper concentration. We experience them as a kind of turbulence or disturbance that distracts us from the focus of the meditation. At least in traditional Buddhist ideas about mind, hallucinations are a form for sensory experience in which the object is mental rather than physical. Buddhism treats the mind as a "sense" in this worldview. So internally generated experiences, with no objective counterpart, are not seen as special, they are just experiences, just the kind of thing that stops with cessation. And the goal of Buddhist meditation is to make experience cease (I'm going to get into this in a subsequent essay).

Perhaps it is worth saying that Pāli clearly does allow for an objective world that follows different rules to sensory experience. There is no talking of breaking down the subject/object distinction. There is no talk of non-dualism. And to my mind, had non-dualism been part of early Buddhism, it would have been mentioned. Not being dualists, I doubt such a doctrine would have appealed to the authors of the Pāli suttas.


The Allostatic Brain

If we take śīla in the sense that I have been suggesting, then we can begin to see how it helps. It comes back to the brain and allostasis. If our brain were simply reacting to sensory input, it would never be able to keep up, even with the relatively coarse-grained representation that reaches awareness in our first person perspective. It is true that life requires that various parameters of our body are kept within limits conducive to life. This is called homeostasis, which effectively means "keeping things the same". Homeostasis is achieved using feedback loops. The basic process is represented by the simplest version of feedback, the kind of mechanical switches we see in thermostats. Heat causes a bar composed of two metals to bend as they expand at different rates. The bending breaks the contact, switching the heating off. The room cools and the metal bar straightens out, and eventually makes contact and switches on the heating.

Our body has various, far more complex and interrelated, feedback loops that help to keep things like the composition of our blood in the optimal range. But the feedback process is reactive and thus can only change things after the fact. And reactive processes can't account for what the brain does. Rather, neuroscientists have shown that the brain anticipates changes and sometimes takes preemptive actions. We could go so far as to say that what the brain does is predict future inputs and try to minimise any discrepancies between what it predicted and what is happening. Moreover, this can be seen as a specific application of a principle, first enunciated by Karl Friston and called the Free Energy Principle. Friston has given this idea its own mathematical formalism, but also showed that the resulting formulas recreate results from statistical mechanics and information theory. Thus the FEP appears to unify a number of seemingly disparate fields. I suspect that eventually this will tie into work by David Deutsch and Chiara Marletto on constructor theory, but that is another essay entirely. 

There are two ways the brain can minimise prediction errors (or in Friston's terms to minimise the free energy of the system): it can alter its prediction, or it can alter the input (which is usually accomplished by intervening in the world through some action).

It's worth emphasising that this is not a process open to introspection. And therefore, it is not intuitive. Moreover, when we talk about the brain "predicting inputs" we are not talking about the high-level, coarse-grained experiences that we are aware of. The only "inputs" to the brain are 1) electrochemical signals from peripheral nerves; and 2) electrochemical signals from within the central nervous system. With respect to 2), 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. There are millions of such inputs. So what the brain is predicting is patterns of electrochemical signals, i.e. variations in signal strength and frequency across millions of individual inputs. Similarly the only output the brain has is firing neurons that connect outwards to the body, sending identical electrochemical signals that cause the body to move in various ways.

Let's use an example from Feldman-Barrett's account: standing up. Moving from sitting to standing involves a lot of coordinated muscle activity, all of which is stimulated at a fine-grained level by brain activity. Our coarse-grained first person perspective on this is very different in scope and detail. One of the problems we face is that suddenly standing up causes a drop in blood pressure in the head, which means insufficient blood reaches the brain and the brain does not work at optimum. In other words, standing up threatens to disrupt homeostasis.

Before we consciously decide the stand up, the brain is balancing the odds. If it predicts that we are going to stand up, then it initiates actions that at a coarse-grained level amount to raising our blood pressure (and neither the prediction nor the preemptive action are available to introspection). At best we become aware of this process when it fails, i.e. we stand up too quickly and get dizzy due to transient low blood pressure in the head. Of course, how we get from the fine-grained view of nerve cells storing energy and releasing it in pulses, to coarse-grained first person perspective, is still unclear. But there is no other viable explanation.


Conclusion

In my last essay, I floated the idea that sensory deprivation is an issue for meditators. In this view, one of the consequences of doing mediation techniques can be, often is, hallucinations. In this view, hallucinations are internally generated distractions and while they may bother meditators at first, they are generally transient. My too-small sample of meditation instruction books suggested that as we become more profoundly cut off from sensory experience, as we may experience more subtle hallucinations that are more tempting to assign meaning or specialness.

Even with a tenuous grasp of Friston's free energy principle (which mine admittedly is)  we can see hallucinations due to sensory deprivation in the context of what the brain expects to see. If one lives a hedonistic lifestyle, one's brain comes to expect high levels of sensory stimulation. One outcome of this is insensitivity to more subtle stimulus. 

It seems to me that we can now state a hypothesis: dropping from high levels of stimulation to very low levels of stimulation is likely to produce a much stronger response that moving from low levels of stimulation to very low levels. Trying to meditate after a busy day at work, is likely to throw up a lot of internal stimulation (I'm going to avoid calling this self-stimulation). 

At least some Buddhists have been concerned to attain what neuroscientists are various calling "contentless experience", "contentless awareness" or "minimal phenomenal consciousness". If our aim is to bring sensory experience to a halt, then reducing the gap between the starting level of stimulation and the aimed-at level would make sense. That is to say, if we aim to achieve contentless awareness, then starting from a much reduced level of stimulation would be advantageous. 

My meditation teachers always emphasised preparation. It's no use going from indulging in the senses to trying to cut oneself off from them. It just creates misery and doubt. Rather one must actively reduce input, reduce stimulation. 

I often find myself explaining that for Buddhists, good behaviour or good karma has little soteriological value. No one is saved by good works. Rather the key to Buddhist soteriology is ending karma-driven rebirth; this requires ending karma. Yes, this does require being reborn as a human and having access to instruction in Buddhist techniques, which in Buddhist soteriology we achieve through good karma, That this is as far as good karma can get us, the mere opportunity to escape. The acme of Buddhism is the end of rebirth. Something similar applies to sensory experience. There is no mileage, from a Buddhist perspective, in indulging the senses. Indeed, since karma is intention (cetanā) in early Buddhist thought, indulging in sensory perception is counterproductive since it gives rise to greed and hatred. 

If śīla is seen as preparation for Buddhist meditation, then it would make sense if it were aimed at reducing sensory stimulation. This is, to some extent at least, intuitive. If Karl Friston is right, and he does seem to be, then the free energy principle gives us a deep explanation for this. It's not simply a useful heuristic, though it is that. Rather it reflects something built into the human mind. We can cope with low levels of stimulation, we can avoid distracting hallucinations, if and when our brain comes to expect low levels of stimulation. And the brain can be habituated by, for example, long intervals of not talking for example, or periods of doing nothing (which is much harder than it sounds).

Thinking about traditional Buddhism in these ultra-modern ways, incorporating cutting edge science, is not straightforward. One has to be aware of projections. I'm not suggesting that Buddhists pre-empted or even prefigured the free energy principle and its detailed mathematical formalism. Buddhism is not scientific and certainly not proto-scientific. There is a kind of systematic approach to Buddhism, but it is all presented in a thoroughly religious context. The central problems of Buddhism are much the same as in all religion, i.e. the afterlife and the problem of evil (i.e. it is based on interpreting a metaphysical speculation as though it accurately reflected reality). 

Rather, what I am trying to show here is that modern perspectives, especially scientific perspectives, often give us better explanations than Iron Age or Medieval religious texts. Which ought to come as no surprise. My sense is that Buddhists, for example, are highly critical of Christian fundamentalism, but their arguments against Christianity often amount to Buddhist fundamentalism, i.e. your religious book is not right, because our religious books say so. I don't think looking to the Iron Age for solutions to living in the twenty-first century makes much sense. Since I have taken the time to learn Pāli and read those Iron Age texts in that language (and compared them with Sanskrit and Chinese counterparts) I find the anachronisms in Buddhism even harder to take seriously. Our texts are no more an accurate reflection of reality than any other religious text. 

In the final analysis, if samādhi is your goal, then you will need to have some understanding of, and strategies for dealing with, sensory deprivation. Traditionally this amounts to reducing sensory input across the board. And this process of reducing sensory input preparatory to meditation is called śīla.

Anyone interested to follow up the connection between meditation and the free energy principle could try reading the recent paper by Ruben Laukkonen and Heleen Slagter (2021) which uses Friston's model to propose a new way of understanding what meditation does. It's not easy and I don't fully understand it myself, but it seems very promising as an addition to how we think about what we wish to achieve as Buddhists. 

~~oOo~~


Bibliography

Attwood, J. (2013). "The Spiral Path or Lokuttara Paṭiccasamuppāda." Western Buddhist Review 6, 1–34. http://www.jayarava.org/texts/the-spiral-path.pdf

Bodhi. (1980). Transcendental Dependent Arising: a Translation and Exposition of the Upanisa Sutta. (The Wheel Publication no.277/278.) Buddhist Publication Society. Online: http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/bodhi/wheel277.html

Khema (1991). When the Iron Eagle Flies. Penguin.

Laukkonen, Ruben E. and Slagter, Heleen A. (2021) “From many to (n)one: Meditation and the plasticity of the predictive mind.” Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews, 128, 199-217.

Sangharakshita. (1967). The Three Jewels: An Introduction to Buddhism. Rider.

Woods, T.J., Windt, J.M. & Carter, O. (2022). "The path to contentless experience in meditation: An evidence synthesis based on expert texts." Phenomenology and the Cognitive Sciences.  (Open access version unpaginated) https://doi.org/10.1007/s11097-022-09812-y

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