Meditating with Descartes

Karen Parham asks how close Western philosophy gets to

Buddhism.
[Link]

Why did René Descartes (1596-1650) name his famous treatise

Meditations on First Philosophy? Broadly speaking, ‘to meditate’ means
‘to think deeply about something’ (OED). Although Descartes probably
meant the word in this general sense, I would like to look at whether his
method, and Western philosophy in general, has some correlation with
meditation in the Eastern sense of the word. To do this I will consider
the meditation techniques of Zen and of traditional Theravada
Buddhism.
Peace of Mind

First let us consider whether Western philosophy aims for peace of

mind.
The purpose of Western philosophising is to find solutions to profound
questions, such as the meaning of life or the nature of mind, and every
philosophical theory is an attempt at solving a philosophical problem. To
develop such a theory might momentarily provide peace of mind.
The object upon which Western philosophers focus is the question they
aim to answer, such as ‘What is truth?’ or ‘What is language?’. These
questions may be a little like the koans that Zen Buddhists focus on
during their meditations. Koans are paradoxical statements, parables, or
questions that have no logical answer – a commonly cited koan is,
“What is the sound of one hand clapping?” They require the student
monk to disengage their reasoning faculties and instead turn to their
intuition; to the non-rational. In this sense, koans cannot be solved, they
can only be responded to. Arriving at an appropriate response to a koan
can take days, months, or a lifetime. The Zen master knows from the
student’s response whether they are ready to move on to another koan,
and whether they have ‘seen the light’. Philosophical questions are like
koans in that they confound the mind in having no absolute answers, and
in that they are also questions philosophers can spend their lifetime
answering. And when a ‘solution’ is found, the philosopher can feel
euphoric and enlightened. However, there is an important difference:
philosophers rely on their reason to answer their ‘ koans’. Philosophical
koans are also presented in such a way as to suggest that there is a
rational answer, whereas Zen koans are not. Philosophical answers will
also have meaning and make sense to others, not just to the ‘meditator’.
So, although philosophy does in a sense aim for peace of mind, it aims
for it using a different technique to that of Zen Buddhists. Furthermore,
its object of enquiry, the philosophical question, has an answer that is
designed to appeal to others as well as satisfying the individual
philosopher in question.
Descartes’ Koan
Let’s now consider Descartes in particular. Descartes’ philosophical
koan in his Meditations is, “What can I know for certain?” At the start of
his Meditations he explains how he reached a stage in his thought where
he was no longer as certain of anything as he used to be. The senses can
sometimes deceive, and as he says, “it is prudent never to trust
completely those who have deceived us even once” (p.12). For all he
knows in this state of uncertainty, it may even be the case that he has no
body; that he’s just dreaming that he’s sitting by the fire writing out the
Meditation. It could even be possible that one plus one does not actually
equal two and an evil demon is deceiving him into thinking that it does.
Perhaps he may not even exist? To achieve any peace of mind in this
situation of radical doubt, Descartes needs to find something certain.
The way he intends to find this is through an introspective exercise of
reason.
If a Zen Buddhist were given “What can I know for certain?” as a koan,
they would also be required to be introspective. The answer to a koan
cannot be sought in the outside world. However, the response does not
require the monk to make judgements, infer or conclude. Nevertheless, a
monk may well respond to a koan in a number of ways: by being silent,
by nodding, or by screaming; or they may respond by talking about
something seemingly unrelated. Descartes, however, does none of this.
His response to the question comes in the form of a conclusion reached
deductively.
One type of logical deduction relies on a specific example being applied
to a universal premise to reach a conclusion. For example:
All Buddhists meditate (universal premise)
Descartes is a Buddhist (specific example)
Therefore Descartes meditates (conclusion)
However, Descartes’ thought process about what he can be certain of
(which he started in his previous work, the Discourse on Method)
produces an incomplete argument: an enthymeme. An enthymeme is a
deduction without the universal premise. His famous argument ‘I think
therefore I am’ (p.17) is arguably of the form:
All thinking things exist (universal premise)
I am thinking (specific example)
Therefore I exist (conclusion)
According to this interpretation, Descartes assumes, but has not written,
the universal premise that all thinking things exist. So some philosophers
might class Descartes’ response – ‘I think therefore I am’ – to his koan
as being merely intuitive.
Perhaps Descartes would have had more peace of mind if he had
engaged with his Buddha-nature. He may then have realised the limits of
his conceptual thought and trusted in just ‘being’.
Natural Light

Another Zen-like feature in Descartes’ Meditations is the ‘natural light’.

Through what he calls ‘clear and distinct ideas’, the natural light
presents truths to Descartes that cannot be doubted. Descartes’ general
rule is that “whatever I perceive clearly and distinctly must be true”
(p.24). Descartes uses the natural light of reason to conclude (among
other things) that he exists, that God exists, that deceit is an
imperfection, and that material objects do indeed possess the geometric
and other mathematical properties he judges them to possess.
Zen Buddhists could also claim that the responses they receive from
meditating on koans are clear and distinct ideas. That is the nature of
‘seeing the light’. Good responses to Zen koans must, by Descartes’
criterion, therefore be true. They may even be nearer the truth (if there is
such a thing) than Descartes’ conclusion, because Descartes’ argument
about relying on the natural light is circular. He believes that the natural
light is reliable because God exists and does not deceive him about the
natural light; yet Descartes needs the natural light to prove that God is
not a deceiver… This natural light tells Descartes that deceit is an
imperfection: therefore, God, who by definition is a perfect being,
cannot deceive him about what the natural light tells him.
Descartes does not seem to have engaged his intuition properly here, and
had he had a Zen Master he might have received a slap in the face (an
interesting teaching tool often used by Zen masters) to awaken him.
Shifts in Consciousness
Like Descartes, Buddhists tend to be substance dualists, also believing
that mind and matter are what constitute Ultimate Reality or Truth
(paramattha). This claim is made for instance in the Abhidharma Pitaka,
part of the important Buddhist scripture known as the Tipitaka (or
Tripitaka). This section of the Tipitaka also stresses that there is no ‘I’ or
individual person – as Hume also claimed in response to Descartes’
assumption that ‘he’ is doing the thinking. Hume believed that a unified
self is an illusion and that there is only a bundle of perceptions. If the
self really is an illusion, then meditation requires a shift in awareness in
order for the meditator to realise Ultimate Truth.
Empiricists, who rely on experience as their source of knowledge, will
not be interested in shifting their consciousness away from the evidence
the world presents to them. Rationalists like Descartes, on the other
hand, may well shift their consciousness away from the world of
appearances when contemplating deduction, logic, mathematics and
geometry.
Let’s consider what rationalists shift their consciousness towards before
comparing it to the Buddhist mental shift. The rationalist will direct their
attention towards something abstract – towards concepts or ideas.
Descartes shifts his consciousness towards the idea of God, for example:
an idea that he believes is innate. The idea he has in his mind is of an
infinite and perfect being. This is quite different from the idea he has of
himself. He makes mistakes, is subject to change, will one day cease to
exist as an embodied thinking thing, and has trouble getting out of bed in
time to teach philosophy to the Queen of Sweden. So Descartes is finite
and imperfect. But Descartes’ natural light tells him that a cause must be
equal to or greater than its effect (this is known as the causal adequacy
principle). So the cause of the idea of God must be something either
equal to the idea of God or greater than it. But what could be equal to or
greater than the idea of a perfect being? The only possibility is that God
must be the cause of the idea of God that Descartes has. So God exists.
Unfortunately, Descartes has not managed to shift his consciousness
entirely. Indeed, he has not really managed to distance his thought from
the external world at all, because his idea of God could quite easily be
built from experience. He believes that the idea of God is innate. Yet if it
were innate, everyone would possess it. However, as John Locke pointed
out when criticising the concept of innate ideas, some people do not
have any idea of God, and others have a different idea of God. Hume
proposed a better origin for the idea of God: the mind transposes,
combines, and enlarges ideas derived from sense impressions to create
the idea. As Hume states, “the idea of God – meaning an infinitely
intelligent, wise, and good Being – comes from extending beyond all
limits the qualities of goodness and wisdom that we find in our own
minds” – adding that these latter ideas are copied from sense
impressions (An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding, p.8). If
Hume is right, then Descartes has been unsuccessful in actually
distancing himself from the world of sense impressions.
He could have tried to shift his awareness further away from the world
of appearances, as Theravada Buddhists do during samatha meditation.
Samatha meditation involves focusing on the breath or some neutral
object in order to achieve calmness, in preparation for a second type of
meditation called vipassana, which aims to achieve insight. As the
practitioner becomes more proficient they will experience profound
states of absorption known as jhana s. Theravada Buddhists recognise
eight jhanas. As the meditator progresses from one jhana to the next,
they experience deeper levels of concentration, to the point that they
have transcended time and space and even nothingness in their
experience, and the meditator enters a realm of immateriality. In the
sixth jhana the successful Buddhist will encounter boundless
consciousness; in the seventh nothingness; and in the eighth neither
perception nor non-perception. These are the realms of the infinite; of
no-thing-ness and of non-dual awareness. The mind has here surpassed
any idea of an infinite and perfect being; that idea would only be an
obstacle to achieving enlightenment. In other words, for the Theravada
Buddhist, the idea of God would be a distraction standing in the way of
seeing the true nature of reality.
Isn’t this distraction exactly what happened to Descartes? So if he had
been able to let go of his idea of God, he may have come to some deeper
realisations… Then again, if he had done this, he may not have delivered
a treatise so thought-provoking that it has kept Western philosophers
busy ever since.
Western Philosophy In General
So Descartes is not really very Buddhist, but he did have the potential. If
he had used the natural light without being distracted by the idea of God,
maybe he would have got a little further towards enlightenment.
What can we say about Western philosophy in general? How far are its
methods compatible with those of Buddhism?
Well, the aims of philosophy do not seem so far removed from the aims
of Buddhism. Both philosophers and Buddhists want peace of mind; to
rationalise does require a shift in consciousness; and philosophical
questions do sometimes seem to resemble koans. The enlightened Zen
Buddhist, however, can respond to any type of question, paradox, or
unanswerable question using their method. The philosopher, on the other
hand, has a different task. First, she needs to distinguish between
reasonable and unreasonable questions before attempting to answer the
reasonable ones in a systematic way. Once the right questions are asked,
the philosopher is less likely to stumble into inconsistencies or make
errors in reasoning. She can then let her rational faculties run wild in the
hope of finding an answer; but should not fall into the trap of thinking
that the answer will be the final say on the matter. The question of
certainty cannot be a sound philosophical question in this mould, as
Descartes has unintentionally demonstrated, since nothing in the realm
of thought is certain; but in the realms beyond thought and ideas it may
well be.