I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve read this book—probably at least four times, maybe five. There’s a reason for this: it’s relatively short, dense with information and insight, well written, and the single best book I know of for demonstrating the clear differences—nay, the rift—that lies between the teachings of the early texts (Pali suttas) espoused by the Theravada and those of the later Mahayana and Vajrayana sutras.
If the above sounds partisan, allow me to explain. I have long been dismayed by the cavalier way in which so many Buddhists—and even scholars—muddle up terms and ideas from the different Buddhist traditions. They take a little from here, a little from there, and assume that all of this represents the Buddha’s thinking. They sometimes even buy into the idea that the early teachings were somehow “less developed” or “sophisticated”—hinayana, as they say. Very beginner books are especially prone to do this, and since that’s where so many people start their dharma journey (for understandable reasons), the intellectual foundation they lay for themselves is often vague and non-discriminating as regards the historical realities of Buddhist thought. Needless to say, a foundation of sand cannot serve anyone well when they venture into more difficult and challenging terrain. Anyone reading this book, however, should avoid such troubles.
While the subtitle is “a historical analysis” the emphasis is much more on analysis than history. In line with a historical approach, however, the book starts at the beginning in “Early Buddhism.” Seven chapters take up critical points of the historical Buddha’s thoughts—epistemology, causality (more on this later), the three marks of existence, karma and rebirth, ethics and, lastly, nirvana. In each case Kalupahana shoots right for the heart, trying to dig at the critical points underlying each concept. Particularly noteworthy here, I think, is his discussion of the Buddha’s epistemology—that is, what the Buddha viewed as valid sources of knowledge. Already here we can see how the Buddha stands out from so many other philosophers—not to mention religious teachers—in that he clearly equates the means of knowledge with knowledge (“gnosis”) itself. The two are not distinct; his approach is relentlessly empirical. Revelation and reason from unexamined a priori assumptions are rejected. Only direct seeing without the intrusion of egoic distortions can be taken as valid (“in the seeing, only the seen” etc.). I always get a thrill reading these kinds of passages and contemplating this man, a product of fifth century BCIndia, so far ahead of even the most modern of thinkers. Kalupahana does an excellent job illustrating this, as well as other points.
This is not to say I agree with everything Kalupahana writes about the early teachings. In particular I would fault his discussion of paticcasamuppada (“Dependent Arising”) or, as he terms it, “causality.” My problem lies in particular with that word—causality. As defined by Merriam-Webster, causality is “the relation between a cause and its effect or between regularly correlated events or phenomena.” Consulting Hume, we get his first three points on causality, which define the commonsense notion:
- The cause and effect must be contiguous in space and time.
- The cause must be prior to the effect.
- There must be a constant union betwixt the cause and effect.
Clearly what is implied in these definitions is a process in time: A (at time 1) causes (or determines) B (at time 2) etc. But this is not how the Buddha describes Dependent Arising. In fact, look at that translation—dependent arising. B can be dependent upon A, but this does not mean A is its cause or precedes it in time. Referring to the classical definition of dependent arising: “When there is this, that is; with the arising of this, that arises; when this is not; that is not; with the cessation of this, that ceases”—we can see clearly that the order of A and B is not chronological but structural.
Consider a twelve storey building. It would be ridiculous to say that the first floor causes the second floor. It would be perfectly correct though to say that it supports it, that the second floor is dependent upon it, and that if the first floor ceases, the second will cease (collapse) as well. In considering this analogy, its obvious limitation has to be acknowledged: when building a twelve storey tower the first floor is necessarily constructed in time before the second floor. But when speaking of human consciousness—which is what paticcasamuppada concerns—one part of consciousness does not appear before another part—consciousness simply appears, it is—and as it is, its structure is internally dependent/conditioned after the fashion of the Buddha’s description.
Failure to consider Dependent Arising as a structural principle leads to the sort of nonsense Theravadan commentators wallowed in, like the three lives interpretation. Obviously, if the Buddha had actually wanted to teach such a thing, he would have done so, but nowhere in the suttas does the Buddha ever imply that dependent arising is a process stretching over time, not to speak over multiple lives. Instead, he describes it as akalika—literally “not (in) time.” Moreover, were it a process in time, it would of necessity be a thing remembered and therefore open to the distortion of memory. But the Buddha described it also as sanditthika, meaning visible here-and-now. Too, no arhant’s awakening experience (as described in the suttas) ever involved memory of past lives, which, again, the notion of causality and the resulting three-lives interpretation of necessity imply. (None of this is to say though that the Buddha never discussed causality in the sense of trains of response and counter-response in emotions, actions, and social behaviors.)This is the most significant caveat I would issue in regards to Kalupahana’s work, though even this does not obviate the invaluable service he offers in distinguishing early and later Buddhisms.
The latter portions of the book clarify Mahayana, beginning first with the development of scholasticism, then the newer sutras and explicitly philosophical schools, such as Nagarjuna’s Madhyamaka and the Yogacara. In these later thinkers we see the development of philosophical absolutism and the steady departure from the Buddha’s psychological and empirical approach in favor of more metaphysical and speculative ideas. The results often bear more resemblance to the Advaita of Shankara than to the Dhamma of the Buddha. As Kalupahana puts it:
We have attempted to explain the gradual development of the absolutist tendency within Buddhism after the death of the Buddha. If what has been said here regarding the early doctrines is true, then the Prajnaparamitas certainly represent a “revolution”…in Buddhism. The revolution consists of the adoption of the transcendentalist standpoint, which is opposed to the empirical approach of early Buddhism (p.134).
That, in a nutshell, is the vital lesson of the book and the best reason for reading it.
My Amazon rating: 5 stars