Close-up of book cover. Photo: Courtesy of Simon & Schuster.
Why Buddhism is True by Robert Wright
Review by Reg Naulty
Robert Wright has taught psychology and religion at prestigious universities. His motivation here is to overcome, or at least erode, the psychology of tribalism – the tendency to define ourselves by our opposition to some other group. He writes that now we are on the verge of a global community, we should not let the natural distortions in our minds blow the whole thing apart.
Which distortions does he mean? Those implanted in our mind by our ‘creator’, natural selection. The sole ‘purpose’ of that was to ensure the passing on of our genes. What we must do to overcome the imperfections left in us is to ‘cultivate calm, clear minds, and the wisdom they allow’. We don’t have to love our enemies, he adds, but seeing them clearly is essential.
Enter Buddhism to repair our vision and minds. The author espouses the ‘Vipassana’ meditation technique which, with its close attention to what goes on in our minds, is beloved by psychologists. Unlike most Asian Buddhists, who believe in Gods and pray but do not meditate, Robert Wright does not believe in any Gods, and does not pray, but does meditate. In these respects, like most Western Buddhists, he more resembles monks than laity. The method for clearing our vision and mind is meditation, which involves observing our thoughts, emotions and perceptions without clinging to them or withdrawing from them, but in as detached an attitude as possible. In that way, we learn to discriminate between them, cultivating productive ones and ignoring others.
Robert Wright puts extended effort into the psychology of perception. He argues, convincingly, that most of the things we see, hear, touch and taste come accompanied by a feeling that he labels, somewhat misleadingly, their essence. For example, faces may strike us attractive, disappointing, boring or beautiful. A sheet of white paper may look good; a page covered with scribble may look disturbing. The business of mindfulness requires us to observe such feelings with care. When we have learned to keep them at a distance, the world may appear fresher and clearer. Robert Wright likens the process of discounting essences or feelings to chopping off bits of the self, which he uses to introduce the Buddhist doctrine that no abiding inner self exists.
After long meditation, people not infrequently report an expansion of the self, so that it seems to include the physical objects around them. These doubts about the borders of the self are connected by Robert Wright to some contemporary psychology that implies there is no single enduring self, but that the mind consists of separate modules working together. These modules size up situations and react to them, and their interplay, it is claimed, shapes our behaviour. But Robert Wright’s version of Buddhism demands an observer self who works hard, who has to take note, and recall, the record of the feeling or perception under observation. Surendranath Dasgupta describes what this self looks like: it has ‘a self-shining which is unique’. The Dalai Lama agrees. There is an ‘underlying clarity, a luminosity’.
