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FROM THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES TO THE EXTINCTION OF ‘SELF’PAISARN LIKHITPREECHAKULTHE NATION
MOVE OVER, Einstein. The father of relativity is often claimed to have said that if there was any religion that could cope with modern scientific needs, it would be Buddhism. But among all branches of science, it is evolutionary biology—rather than his theory of relativity or modern physics’ other main pillar, quantum physics—that gives Buddhism a run for its, well, mantra.
Today is the 150th anniversary of the publication of Charles Darwin’s "On the Origin of Species," which hit the Middle Earth of biology like the massive asteroid that ended the reign of the dinosaurs. The impact of the theory of evolution by natural selection created shock waves that can still be felt in fields such as cosmology, robotics, anthropology, philosophy, economics and even politics.
Evolutionary biology has, in the last few decades, greatly deepened our understanding of the human condition, echoing many of the Buddha’s teachings. In "Potthapada Sutta," the Buddha compared sensual pleasures—of which our species never get enough—to meatless bones covered with blood that the butcher tosses to a hungry dog. Now evolutionary biology tells us that pain and pleasure are genetically engineered sticks and carrots gearing us toward what our genes compel us to do.
To shed light on where really is the driving seat, Richard Dawkins, today’s most famous Darwinist, wrote in his 1976 groundbreaking book "The Selfish Gene": "They are in you and me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence. They have come a long way, those replicators. Now they go by the name of genes, and we are their survival machines."
Evolutionary biology doesn't leave much room for human behavior, although the effects of genes are admittedly far from being unmodifiable by will, education and culture. Still, these discoveries pose difficult questions for policy-makers. Can someone be held responsible for a crime if he is ever continuously predisposed to violence? What to do with complicated drug offenders with a predisposition to addiction? These questions are just the beginning of things to ponder.
But even more interesting is how, in the survival of the fittest, so many things such as cooperation, empathy, morality and altruism arose—being fruits open to exploitation by social predators and parasites. To say that culture is responsible begs the question of how culture itself arose and, more importantly, persisted.
Recent studies have yielded insights by linking "altruism" around behavior to benefits such as reciprocity, punishment avoidance, kin-aligned self-interest, reputation and status enhancement and, tellingly, increased reproductive success. Amotz and Avishag Zahavi's groundbreaking explanations of "competitive altruism" among Arabian babblers showed that strong birds have higher status and more reproductive opportunities—a biological equivalent of "nice guys finish first." This helps to make sense of the way many human societies work. Most cultures have long found it best to bestow power upon those with the highest moral standards. Although not exactly wrong, Uncle Ben in Spiderman got it backwards when he said, "Remember, with great power comes great responsibility."
These evolutionary explanations, however, raise an even bigger question. If even the noblest of our actions is not free from self-interest, is human kindness just a genetically-wired ego trip? Is pure altruism humanly possible? More importantly, do we have a free will to achieve it?
Western philosophy has long thought of free will as an all-or-nothing issue—it’s either that humans have absolute freedom in decision-making power, or the world is an all-scripted drama where moral agency is just an illusion. But philosopher Daniel Dennett, another evolutionist, recently argued in "Freedom Evolves" that human freedom of moral choice must have evolved in a piecemeal fashion like the freedom of flight in birds.
However, from a Buddhist perspective, the perception of free will is putting the cart before the horse. That pure altruism is achievable is aimed at—as expressed by the Bodhisattva ideal. In the Thai language, there’s an expression, pid thong lang phra (applying gold leaf to the back of a Buddha image where it's hidden from view) to symbolize good deeds done without the need of recognition.
The freedom to achieve that, however, is not to be taken for granted, but is itself no less than a goal. It is, in fact, the ultimate goal of enlightenment (nirvana). In "Maha-Assapura Sutta," the Buddha compared peace and freedom from worldly desire and associated suffering by saying, "Suppose a man was imprisoned, but later he would be released, safe and secure; and suppose a man was a slave but later would be released from slavery as a free man, able to go where he wants; on considering this, he would be glad and full of joy."
Even Prince Siddhartha, the would-be Buddha, was a product of biological evolution. Although our genes have evolved "in nature, red in tooth and claw," we are no longer straightjacketed by those blood-stained genes. We are equipped with "elbow room." More than any other animal, our genetic warden has handed us a capacity for self-reflection (yoniso manasikara).
This is as far as evolutionary biology can take us on the road to freedom, but we are not on our own. Providing the roadmap aimed at "Kukkuravatika Sutta," the Buddha categorized action (karma) into four kinds: Dark, bright, both dark and bright, and neither dark nor bright. Although the first three come under the ethical rubric as right or wrong or grayish, the Noble Path said by the Buddha to be neither dark nor bright action leads to enlightenment.
Having said that, some evolutionary thinkers arrived remarkably close by pointing us in the right direction. At the end of "The Selfish Gene," Dawkins wrote, "We have the power to defy the selfish genes of our birth. ... We can even discuss ways of deliberately cultivating and nurturing pure, disinterested altruism—something that has no place in nature, something that has never existed before in the whole history of the world. We are built as gene machines ... but we have the power to turn against our creators. We, alone on earth, can rebel against the tyranny of the selfish replicators."
Compare that to the Buddha’s proclaiming: "Just as a blue, red, or white lotus born in the water and grows in the water, reaches the surface and stands there unsoiled by the water. Born in the world, grown up in the world, having overcome the world, I abide unsoiled by the world. Take it that I am a Buddha."
------------------------------PAISARN LIKHITPREECHAKUL wrote this for the International Celebration of Darwin’s 150th Anniversary and the Bicentenary of Darwin’s Birth (November 12).
MOVE OVER, Einstein. The father of relativity is often claimed to have said that if there was any religion that could cope with modern scientific needs, it would be Buddhism. But among all branches of science, it is evolutionary biology—rather than his theory of relativity or modern physics’ other main pillar, quantum physics—that gives Buddhism a run for its, well, mantra.
Today is the 150th anniversary of the publication of Charles Darwin’s "On the Origin of Species," which hit the Middle Earth of biology like the massive asteroid that ended the reign of the dinosaurs. The impact of the theory of evolution by natural selection created shock waves that can still be felt in fields such as cosmology, robotics, anthropology, philosophy, economics and even politics.
Evolutionary biology has, in the last few decades, greatly deepened our understanding of the human condition, echoing many of the Buddha’s teachings. In "Potthapada Sutta," the Buddha compared sensual pleasures—of which our species never get enough—to meatless bones covered with blood that the butcher tosses to a hungry dog. Now evolutionary biology tells us that pain and pleasure are genetically engineered sticks and carrots gearing us toward what our genes compel us to do.
To shed light on where really is the driving seat, Richard Dawkins, today’s most famous Darwinist, wrote in his 1976 groundbreaking book "The Selfish Gene": "They are in you and me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence. They have come a long way, those replicators. Now they go by the name of genes, and we are their survival machines."
Evolutionary biology doesn't leave much room for human behavior, although the effects of genes are admittedly far from being unmodifiable by will, education and culture. Still, these discoveries pose difficult questions for policy-makers. Can someone be held responsible for a crime if he is ever continuously predisposed to violence? What to do with complicated drug offenders with a predisposition to addiction? These questions are just the beginning of things to ponder.
But even more interesting is how, in the survival of the fittest, so many things such as cooperation, empathy, morality and altruism arose—being fruits open to exploitation by social predators and parasites. To say that culture is responsible begs the question of how culture itself arose and, more importantly, persisted.
Recent studies have yielded insights by linking "altruism" around behavior to benefits such as reciprocity, punishment avoidance, kin-aligned self-interest, reputation and status enhancement and, tellingly, increased reproductive success. Amotz and Avishag Zahavi's groundbreaking explanations of "competitive altruism" among Arabian babblers showed that strong birds have higher status and more reproductive opportunities—a biological equivalent of "nice guys finish first." This helps to make sense of the way many human societies work. Most cultures have long found it best to bestow power upon those with the highest moral standards. Although not exactly wrong, Uncle Ben in Spiderman got it backwards when he said, "Remember, with great power comes great responsibility."
These evolutionary explanations, however, raise an even bigger question. If even the noblest of our actions is not free from self-interest, is human kindness just a genetically-wired ego trip? Is pure altruism humanly possible? More importantly, do we have a free will to achieve it?
Western philosophy has long thought of free will as an all-or-nothing issue—it’s either that humans have absolute freedom in decision-making power, or the world is an all-scripted drama where moral agency is just an illusion. But philosopher Daniel Dennett, another evolutionist, recently argued in "Freedom Evolves" that human freedom of moral choice must have evolved in a piecemeal fashion like the freedom of flight in birds.
However, from a Buddhist perspective, the perception of free will is putting the cart before the horse. That pure altruism is achievable is aimed at—as expressed by the Bodhisattva ideal. In the Thai language, there’s an expression, pid thong lang phra (applying gold leaf to the back of a Buddha image where it's hidden from view) to symbolize good deeds done without the need of recognition.
The freedom to achieve that, however, is not to be taken for granted, but is itself no less than a goal. It is, in fact, the ultimate goal of enlightenment (nirvana). In "Maha-Assapura Sutta," the Buddha compared peace and freedom from worldly desire and associated suffering by saying, "Suppose a man was imprisoned, but later he would be released, safe and secure; and suppose a man was a slave but later would be released from slavery as a free man, able to go where he wants; on considering this, he would be glad and full of joy."
Even Prince Siddhartha, the would-be Buddha, was a product of biological evolution. Although our genes have evolved "in nature, red in tooth and claw," we are no longer straightjacketed by those blood-stained genes. We are equipped with "elbow room." More than any other animal, our genetic warden has handed us a capacity for self-reflection (yoniso manasikara).
This is as far as evolutionary biology can take us on the road to freedom, but we are not on our own. Providing the roadmap aimed at "Kukkuravatika Sutta," the Buddha categorized action (karma) into four kinds: Dark, bright, both dark and bright, and neither dark nor bright. Although the first three come under the ethical rubric as right or wrong or grayish, the Noble Path said by the Buddha to be neither dark nor bright action leads to enlightenment.
Having said that, some evolutionary thinkers arrived remarkably close by pointing us in the right direction. At the end of "The Selfish Gene," Dawkins wrote, "We have the power to defy the selfish genes of our birth. ... We can even discuss ways of deliberately cultivating and nurturing pure, disinterested altruism—something that has no place in nature, something that has never existed before in the whole history of the world. We are built as gene machines ... but we have the power to turn against our creators. We, alone on earth, can rebel against the tyranny of the selfish replicators."
Compare that to the Buddha’s proclaiming: "Just as a blue, red, or white lotus born in the water and grows in the water, reaches the surface and stands there unsoiled by the water. Born in the world, grown up in the world, having overcome the world, I abide unsoiled by the world. Take it that I am a Buddha."
------------------------------PAISARN LIKHITPREECHAKUL wrote this for the International Celebration of Darwin’s 150th Anniversary and the Bicentenary of Darwin’s Birth (November 12).
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