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I. Are there
grounds for a dialogue ?
Science and Buddhism have radically
different methods for investigating reality. In science,
intellect and reason have the leading roles. Science gathers
knowledge about the world and condenses that knowledge into
laws that can be tested. By dividing, categorizing, analyzing,
comparing, and measuring, scientists express these laws in the
highly abstract language of mathematics. Intuition is not
absent in science, but it gives results only if it can be
formulated in a coherent mathematical structure and validated
by observation and analysis. By contrast, it is intuition – or
inner experience – that plays the leading role in the way
Buddhism approaches reality. Buddhism adopts a contemplative
approach with an essentially inward gaze while science looks
outward. Buddhism is mainly concerned with our inner self
while science’s main preoccupation is the external world.
Rather than breaking up reality in its different components
like science does in its reductionist method, Buddhism with
its holistic approach aims to understand it in its entirety.
Buddhism has no use for measuring apparatus, and does not rely
on the sort of sophisticated observations that form the basis
of experimental science. Its statements are more qualitative
than quantitative.
But the main difference between the
pursuit of knowledge in science versus the same pursuit in
Buddhism is their ultimate goals. The purpose of science is to
find out about the world of phenomena. Its main focus is the
understanding of the physical universe, considered to be
quantifiable and objective, so as to gain control over the
natural world. On the other hand, in Buddhism, knowledge is
acquired essentially for therapeutic purposes. The objective
is not to find out about the physical world for its own sake,
but to free ourselves from the suffering that is caused by our
undue attachment to the apparent reality of the external
world. Empirical inquiry motivated only by intellectual
curiosity is not a principal Buddhist aim. Rather, it wants to
understand the true nature of the world to clear away the
mists of ignorance and open the way to Enlightenment and the
path to liberation. Instead of telescopes, particle
accelerators or microscopes, Buddhism uses the mind as the
instrument to investigate the universe. It stresses the
importance of elucidating the nature of the mind through
direct contemplative experience. Over the centuries it has
devised a profound and rigorous approach to the understanding
of mental states and of the ultimate nature of the mind. The
mind is behind every experience in life. It determines the way
we see the world. It takes only the slightest change in our
minds, in how we deal with mental states and perceive people
and things, for ‘our’ world to be turned completely
upside-down. Thus instead of focussing exclusively on the
objective third-person aspect of the world like classical
science does, Buddhism puts also the emphasis on its
first-person aspect.
Given these seemingly profound
differences in their methods and aims, can there a basis for a
dialogue between science and Buddhism? Would Buddhism have
something to say about the nature of phenomena as this is not
its main interest, whereas such preoccupations lie at the
heart of science? The answer to these questions is an
unequivocal yes. One of Buddhist philosophy’s main tasks is
the study of the nature of reality. While science isn’t
Buddhism’s main preoccupation, it has long been asking
questions that are astonishingly similar to those that
preoccupy modern science. Can separate, indivisible particles
be the fundamental building blocks of the world? Do they
really exist, or are they just concepts that help us
understand reality? Are the laws of physics immutable, and do
they have an intrinsic existence, like Platonic ideals? Is
there a solid reality behind appearances? What is the origin
of the world of phenomena, the world that we see as ‘real’
around us? What is the relationship between the animate and
the inanimate, between the subject and the object? What is the
nature of space and time? Buddhist philosophers have been
studying and pondering over these questions for the last 2,500
years. Buddhist literature abounds with logical treatises
discussing theories of perception and analyses of different
levels of the world of phenomena. It includes many
psychological treatises which explore various aspects of
consciousness and the ultimate nature of our minds.
And while the investigative methods of
Buddhism and science for exploring the world may look at first
glance very different, a closer look reveals that Buddhism,
just like science, relies also on the experimental method to
find out about reality. The Buddhist method of analysis often
makes use of ‘thought experiments’ which are also widely used
in science. These are hypothetical experiments conducted in
the mind, which lead to irrefutable conclusions, although the
experiments are not actually carried out. This technique has
often been used by the best practitioners of science, in
particular by Einstein. For example, when studying the nature
of space and time, the physicist imagines himself astride a
particle of light. When thinking about gravity, he saw himself
in an accelerating elevator. In the same manner, Buddhist
scholars use thought experiments to dissect reality. Buddhism
also resembles science in that it encourages skepticism in the
prevailing beliefs. Buddha encourages us not to accept his
teachings on faith, but only after thinking them through
ourselves. He tells us: ‘Just as the wise accept gold after
testing it by heating, cutting, and rubbing it, so are my
words to be accepted after examining them, but not out of
respect for me.’ If we take ‘science’ to mean ‘a system of
knowledge that is rigorous, coherent and verifiable’ or ‘a set
of principles and procedures which involves the recognition
and formulation of a problem, the formulation of hypotheses
and the collection of data through observation and experiment
to test these hypotheses’ (Webster dictionary), then Buddhism
can be described as a ‘contemplative science’ or a ‘science of
the mind’. But here the field of investigation is not only
the ‘objective’ material world which can be physically
studied, measured, and calculated, a world which can be
described only in terms of third-person quantitative methods.
It is enlarged to the whole scope of our ‘subjective’ living
experience including mental phenomena which can only be
perceived through first-person introspective observation.
In the following sections, I will
compare the views of reality as seen through the lenses of
science and Buddhism. I will attempt to build gentle bridges
between the sciences of the physical world and the science of
the mind. It is not my purpose here to make science sound
mystical nor to justify Buddhism’s underpinnings with the
discoveries of modern science. Science functions well, is
perfectly self-sufficient and accomplishes well its stated aim
without the need of a philosophical support from Buddhism or
from any other religion. In fact, it is when religion thinks
it can tell the ‘truth’ to science that problems arise, as in
the disastrous condemnation of Galileo by the Church in 1633.
Buddhism is a science of the Awakening, and whether it is the
Earth that goes around the Sun or the contrary cannot have any
consequence on its philosophical basis. It has been in
existence for some 2500 years while modern science did not get
its start until the 16th century. But because both
are quests for the truth, and both use criteria of
authenticity, rigor and logic to attain it, their respective
world views should not result in an insuperable opposition,
but rather in a harmonious complementarity. The physicist
Werner Heisenberg expressed this view eloquently: ‘I consider
the ambition of overcoming opposites, including also a
synthesis embracing both rational understanding and the
mystical experience of unity, to be the ‘mythos’, spoken or
unspoken, of our present day and age.’
I shall discuss and compare the world
views of Science and Buddhism by examining in turn each of the
three basic tenets of Buddhism. I shall consider the concept
of ‘impermanence’ in Section II, and that of
‘interdependence’ and of ‘vacuity’ in Section III. I shall
discuss how, in contrast to theist religions, Buddhism rejects
the concept of a ‘God’ or a ‘Creator’ in Section IV and offer
concluding remarks in Section V.
II.
Impermanence at the heart of reality
Buddhism distinguishes two types of
impermanence. There is first the gross impermanence. This
includes all the obvious changes of persons and things that we
witness in our daily lives: the changing of seasons, the
erosion of mountains, the passage from youth to old age, our
varying emotions. Then there is the subtle impermanence: at
each infinitesimal moment, everything that seems to exist
changes. The universe is not made of solid, distinct entities,
but is like a vast stream of events and dynamic currents that
are all interconnected and constantly interacting. This
concept of perpetual and omnipresent change in Buddhism is in
accord with the underlying theme of evolution in all of 20th
century science.
Consider modern cosmology. Aristotle’s
immutable heavens and Newton’s static universe are no more.
Everything is changing and moving, everything is impermanent,
from the tiniest elementary particle to the entire universe,
including galaxies, stars, planets and mankind. The universe
is not static, but expanding because of the initial impulse it
received from its primordial explosion. This dynamic nature is
described by the equations of General Relativity. With the Big
Bang theory, the universe is not any more eternal. It has a
beginning, a past, a present and a future. It has acquired a
history. According to the latest observations, it will expand
forever, cooling ever more and die in an icy freeze. In
addition to the motion of expansion, all of the universe’s
structures – asteroids, comets, planets, stars, galaxies and
galaxy clusters – are in perpetual motion and take part in an
immense cosmic ballet: they rotate about their axes, revolve
around each other, fall toward or move away from one another.
They, too, have a history. They are born, reach maturity, then
die. Stars have lifecycles than span millions, or even billion
of years.
Change and evolution have also entered
other fields of science. In geology, the continents which were
thought to be attached solidly to the Earth’s crust are now
known to move several centimeters per year, creating volcanoes
and earthquakes at the boundaries where the continental plates
meet. The surface of the Earth is constantly changing and
remodeling itself. As for the biological sciences, the concept
of evolution is ushered in by the naturalist Charles Darwin in
1859. Humans have no longer a divine lineage. They are not the
descendants of Adam and Eve, themselves created by God, as
thought before, but the product of a long evolution shaped by
natural selection. Going back in time, man’s ancestors are in
turn primates, reptiles, fishes, invertebrates and primitive
unicellular organisms.
Impermanence rules not only the
macroscopic world, but also the atomic and subatomic domains.
Particles can modify their nature: a quark can change its
family or ‘flavor’, a proton can become a neutron while
emitting a positron and a neutrino. Matter and antimatter can
annihilate each other to become pure energy. The energy of
motion of a particle can be transformed into another particle,
or vice versa, i.e. an object’s property can become an object.
The electrons in the objects that surround us are never still.
At this very moment, there are billions of fleeting neutrinos
that go through my body every second. Because of the quantum
uncertainty of energy, the space around us is filled with an
unimaginable number of ‘virtual’ particles, with fleeting
ghost-like existences. Constantly appearing and disappearing,
they are a perfect illustration of impermanence with their
infinitely short life cycles. There is not any doubt: the
‘subtle impermanence’ of Buddhism is everywhere in the
description that modern science gives of reality.
III. The
interdependence and non-separability of phenomena
1. The Middle Way
The concept of interdependence lies at
the heart of the Buddhist vision of the nature of reality. It
says that ‘nothing exists inherently, or can be its own
cause.’ An object can be defined only in terms of other
objects and exist only in relationship to others. In other
words, this arises because that exists. Interdependence is
essential to the manifestation of phenomena. Our daily
experience makes us think that things possess a real,
objective independence, as though they exist all on their own
and have intrinsic identities. But Buddhism maintains that
this way of seeing phenomena is just a mental construct. It
calls this perception of distinct phenomena resulting from
isolated causes and conditions as ‘relative truth’ or
‘delusion’. Rather it adopts the notion of mutual causality:
an event can happen only because it is dependent on other
factors. Because everything is part of the whole, nothing can
happen separately. Any given thing in our world can appear
only because it is connected, conditioned and in turn
conditioning, co-present and co-operating in constant
transformation. An entity that exists independently of all
others as an immutable and autonomous entity couldn’t act on
anything, or be acted on itself.
Buddhism thus sees the world as a vast
flow of events that are linked together and participate in one
another. The way we perceive this flow crystallizes certain
aspects of the non-separable universe, thus creating the
illusion that there are autonomous entities that are
completely distinct from each other and totally separate from
us. Thus phenomena are simply events that happen in some
circumstances. This view does not mean that Buddhism denies
conventional truth – the sort that ordinary people perceive or
the scientist detects with his apparatus --, or that it
contests the laws of cause and effect, or the laws of physics
and mathematics. It simply holds that, if we dig deep enough,
there is a difference between the way we see the world and the
way it really is.
The most subtle aspect of
interdependence concerns the relationship between a
phenomenon’s ‘designation base’ and is ‘designation’. An
object’s ‘designation bases’ refer to its position, dimension,
form, color or any other of its apparent characteristics.
Together, they form the object’s ‘designation’, a mental
construct which assigns an autonomous distinct reality to that
object. In our every day experience, when we see an object, we
aren’t struck by its nominal existence, but by its
designation. Because we experience it, Buddhism does not say
that the object doesn’t exist. But neither does it say that
the object possesses an intrinsic reality. It has the view
that the object exists (thus avoiding the nihilism that
Westerners have sometime mistakenly attributed to Buddhism),
but that this existence is purely interdependent. This is what
the Buddha calls the Middle Way. A phenomenon with no
autonomous existence, but which is nevertheless not totally
inexistent, can thus act and function according to the laws of
causality.
2. The non-locality of the quantum
world
A notion strikingly similar to that of
Buddhism’s interdependence is the concept of
‘non-separability’ or ‘non-locality’ in quantum mechanics.
This was revealed by the famous thought experiment designed by
Einstein, Podolsky and Rosen (EPR) in 1935 in an attempt to
show that the probabilistic interpretation of quantum
mechanics is wrong, and that the theory is incomplete. In
simplified terms, the thought experiment goes like follows.
Imagine a particle that disintegrates spontaneously into two
photons A and B. The laws of symmetry dictates that they will
travel in opposite directions. If A goes westward, then we
will detect B to the east. It all seems perfectly normal. But
that’s forgetting the strangeness of the quantum world. Like
Janus, light is double-faced. It can be either wave or
particle. Before being captured by the detector, quantum
theory tells us that A has the appearance of a wave. This wave
being not localized, there was a non-zero probability that A
may be found in any direction. It’s only when it has been
captured that A ‘learns’ that it is moving westward. But, if A
didn’t ‘know’ before being captured which direction it had
taken, how could B have ‘guessed’ what A was doing and
adjusted its behavior accordingly so that it could be captured
at the same time in the opposite direction? This is
impossible, unless A can inform B instantaneously of the
direction it has taken. This would imply a light signal
propagating at infinite speed, which would be in contradiction
with general relativity. Because ‘God does not send telepathic
signals’ and there can be ‘no spooky action at a distance’,
Einstein concluded that quantum mechanics did not provide a
complete description of reality, that A must ‘know’ which
direction it was going to take and ‘tell’ B before they split
up. He thought that each particle possesses ‘hidden variables’
which quantum theory did not take into account, hence its
incompleteness.
For nearly 30 years, the EPR experiment
remained as a thought experiment because physicists did not
know how to carry it out in practice. It was not until 1964
that the physicist John Bell found a way to transform the
central idea of EPR from a metaphysical speculation to a
proposition that can tested in the laboratory. He devised a
mathematical theorem now called ‘Bell’s inequality’ which
could be verified experimentally if particles really did have
hidden variables. At the beginning of the 80s, the technology
was finally ripe for the physicist Alain Aspect and his team
in Paris to carry out a series of experiments on pair of
‘entangled’ photons (i.e. photons that have interacted with
each other). They found that Bell’s inequality was always
violated. This means that there are no hidden variables.
Quantum mechanics was right and Einstein was wrong. In
Aspect’s experiments, photons A and B were 12 meters apart,
yet B always ‘knew’ instantaneously what A was doing, and
reacted accordingly. The physicists were sure that no light
signal could have been exchanged between A and B because
atomic clocks, connected to the detectors that capture A and
B, allow them to gauge the moment of each photon’s arrival
extremely accurately. The difference between the two arrival
times is less than a few tenths of a billionth of a second –
it is probably zero, in fact, but existing atomic clocks don’t
allow us to measure periods of under 10^-10 seconds. Now, in
10^-10 seconds, light can travel only 3 centimeters, far less
than the 12 meters separating A from B. What is more, the
result is the same if the distance between the two entangled
photons is increased. In the latest experiment carried out in
1998 by the physicist Nicolas Gisin and his colleagues in
Geneva , the photons are separated by 10 km, yet their
behaviors are perfectly correlated. This is paradoxical only
if, like Einstein, we think that reality is cut up and
localized in each photon. The problem goes away if we admit
that A and B, once they have interacted with each other,
become part of a non-separable reality, no matter how far
apart they are, even if they are at opposite ends of the
universe. A does not need to send a signal to B because they
share the same reality. Quantum mechanics thus eliminates all
idea of locality and provides a holistic view of space. For
two entangled photons, the notions of ‘here’ and ‘there’
become meaningless because ‘here’ is identical to ‘there’.
That is what physicists call the ‘non-separability’ or
‘non-locality’of space. This is akin to the concept of the
interdependence of phenomena in Buddhism.
3. Foucault’s pendulum and the
interdependence of the macrocosm
Another famous and fascinating physics
experiment shows that the interdependence of phenomena isn’t
limited to the world of particles but pervades the whole
universe. This is the pendulum experiment carried out by the
physicist Léon Foucault in 1851 at the Panthéon in Paris to
demonstrate the rotation of the Earth. We are all familiar
with the behavior of the pendulum. As time passes, the
direction in which it swings changes. If it was set swinging
in a north-south direction, after a few hours, it is swinging
east-west. If the pendulum were placed at either the North or
the South pole, it would turn completely round in 24 hours (in
Paris, because of a latitude effect, Foucault’s pendulum
performs only part of a complete rotation in a day). Foucault
realized that, in fact, the pendulum swung in the same
direction, and it was the Earth that turned.
But there remains a puzzle not clearly
understood to this day. The swing of the pendulum is fixed in
space, but fixed with respect to what? The pendulum is
attached to a building which is itself attached to Earth. The
Earth carries us at some 30 km/s around the Sun, which is
itself flying through space at 230 km/s in its orbit around
the center of the Milky Way. Our Galaxy is in turn falling
toward the Andromeda galaxy qt some 90 km/s. The Local Group
of galaxies, the most massive members of which are the Galaxy
and Andromeda, is moving at 600 km/s under the gravitational
attraction of the Virgo cluster and of the Hydra-Centaurus
supercluster. The latter is itself falling toward the Great
Attractor, the mass of which is equivalent to that of tens of
thousands of galaxies. Is the behavior of Foucault’s pendulum
dictated by any of these relatively nearby structures? In
order to find out which celestial object controls the swing of
the pendulum, we simply set the pendulum swinging in that
celestial object’s direction. If, as that object moves in the
sky, it always remains in the plane of the pendulum’s swing,
then we can say that the object is responsible for the
pendulum’s behavior. Let’s swing the pendulum in the direction
of the Sun. After a month, our star has already shifted by a
whole 15° away from the pendulum’s direction of swing. Let’s
now point the pendulum toward the nearest star, Proxima
Centauri, which is 4 light-years away. The star stays longer
in the swing plane, but after several years, ends up drifting
away. The Andromeda galaxy, which is 2.3 million light-years
away, moves away more slowly, but does drift off the plane.
The time spent in line with the pendulum’s swing grows longer
and the shift becomes smaller the greater the distance of the
celestial object is. Only the most distant galaxies, situated
at the edge of the known universe, billions of light-years
away, do not drift away from the plane of the pendulum’s
swing.
The conclusion we must draw is
extraordinary: Foucault’s pendulum doesn’t base its behavior
on its local environment, but rather on the most distant
galaxies, or, more accurately, on the entire universe, given
that practically all visible matter is to be found in distant
galaxies and not in nearby stars. Thus, what happens here on
Earth is decided by all the vast cosmos. What occurs on our
tiny planet depends on all the structures in the universe.
Why does the pendulum behave in such a
way? We don’t know. The physicist Ernst Mach thought it could
be explained by a sort of omnipresence of matter and its
influence. According to him, an object’s mass – that is to
say, the amount of its inertia, or resistance to movement –
comes from the influence of the entire universe through a
mysterious interaction, different from gravity, which he did
not precise. No one else has managed to do so since. Just as
the EPR experiment forces us to accept that interactions exist
in the microcosm that are different from those described by
known physics, Foucault’s pendulum does the same for the
macrocosm. Such interactions are not based on a force or an
exchange of energy, and they connect the entire universe.
Again, we are drawn to a conclusion that resembles very much
Buddhism’s concept of interdependence: each part contains the
whole, and each part depends on all the other parts.
4. Emptiness or the absence of an
intrinsic reality
The notion of interdependence leads us
directly to the third key idea of Buddhism (the two others
being impermanence and interdependence) : that of ‘emptiness’
or ‘vacuity’. Since everything is interdependent, nothing can
be self-defining and exist inherently. The idea of intrinsic
properties that exist in themselves and by themselves must be
thrown out. When Buddhism states that emptiness is the
ultimate nature of things, it means that the things we see
around us, the phenomena of our world, lack any autonomous or
permanent existence. Here ‘emptiness’ does not mean
‘nothingness’, ‘void’ or ‘absence of phenomena’ as early
Western commentators on Buddhism thought, but the absence of
inherent existence. Buddhism does not espouse any form of
nihilism. Emptiness does not correspond to nonexistence. If
you can’t speak of real existence, you can’t speak of
nonexistence either. Thus according to Buddhism, learning to
understand the essential unreality of things is an integral
part of the spiritual way. Emptiness isn’t just the true
nature of phenomena, it’s also the potential that allows the
manifestation of an infinite variety of phenomena. To quote
the second-century Buddhist master Nagarjuna: ‘Since all is
empty, all is possible’ or the famous scripture Perfection of
Wisdom: ‘Though phenomena appear, they are empty; though
empty, they appear.” If reality were permanent, and its
properties too, then nothing would change. Phenomena could not
appear. But because things have no intrinsic reality, they can
have infinite manifestations.
On the subject of the absence of an
intrinsic reality, quantum physics has once again something
strikingly similar to say. According to Bohr and Heisenberg,
the main proponents of what is called ‘the Copenhagen
interpretation’ of quantum mechanics, we can no longer talk
about atoms and electrons as being real entities with
well-defined properties, such as speed and position, tracing
out equally well-defined trajectories. We must consider them
as part of a world made up of potentialities and not of
objects and facts. Light and matter can be said to have no
intrinsic reality because they have a dual nature: they can
appear either as waves or particles depending on the measuring
apparatus. The phenomenon that we call a ‘photon’ is a wave
when the measuring machine is shut off and we are not
observing it. But as soon as the apparatus is activated and a
measurement is made, it takes the appearance of a particle.
The particle and wave aspects cannot be dissociated. In the
contrary, they complement each other. This is what Bohr calls
the ‘principle of complementarity’. Thus the very nature of
light and matter is subject to interdependent relationships.
It is no longer intrinsic but changes depending on the
interaction between the observer and the object under
observation. To speak of a particle’s intrinsic reality, or
the reality it possesses when unobserved, is meaningless
because we can never apprehend it. Thus for Bohr, the ‘atom’
concept is merely a convenient picture that helps physicists
put together diverse observations of the particle world into a
coherent and logical scheme. He emphasized the impossibility
of going beyond the results of experiments and measurements:
‘In our description of nature, the purpose is not to disclose
the real essence of phenomena, but only to track down, so far
as possible, relations between the manifold aspects of our
experience.’ Schrödinger also warned us against a
materialistic view of atoms and their constituents: ‘It is
better not to view a particle as a permanent entity, but
rather as an instantaneous event. Sometimes these events link
together to create the illusion of permanent entities.’
Quantum mechanics has radically revised our conception of an
object, by making it subordinate to a measurement, or in other
words an event. Just as in Buddhism, only relationships
between objects exist, but not the objects themselves.
IV. In search
of the Great Watchmaker
1.The fine-tuning of the universe
Modern cosmology has discovered that the
conditions that allow for life and intelligence to emerge in
the universe seem to be coded in the properties of each atom,
star and galaxy in the cosmos and in all of the physical laws
that govern it. The universe appears to have been very finely
tuned in order to produce an intelligent observer capable of
appreciating its organization and harmony. This statement is
the basis of the ‘anthropic principle’ from the Greek
‘anthropos’ which means ‘person’. Concerning the anthropic
principle, there are two remarks to be made. First, the
definition I gave above concerns only the ‘strong’ version of
the anthropic principle. There is also a ‘weak’ version which
doesn’t presuppose any intention in the design of nature. It
almost comes down to a tautology – the properties of the
universe must be compatible with the existence of mankind –
and I will not discuss it further. Second, the term
‘anthropic’ is really inappropriate as it implies that
humanity was the goal toward which the universe has evolved.
In fact, anthropic arguments would apply to any form of
intelligence in the universe.
What is the scientific basis of the
anthropic principle? The way our universe evolved depends on
two types of information: 1) its initial conditions such as
its total mass and energy contents, its initial expansion
rate, etc; and 2) about 15 physical constants: the
gravitational constant, the Planck constant, the speed of
light, the masses of the elementary particles, etc. We can
measure the values of these constants with extreme precision,
but we do not have any theory to predict them. By constructing
‘model universes’ with varying initial conditions and physical
constants, astrophysicists have discovered that these need to
be fine-tuned to the extreme: if the physical constants and
the initial conditions were just slightly different, we
wouldn’t be here to talk about them. For instance, let’s
consider the initial density of matter of the universe. Matter
has a gravitational pull that counteracts the force of
expansion from the Big Bang and slows down the universe’s rate
of expansion. If its initial density had been too high, then
the universe would have collapsed into itself after a
relatively short time – a million years, a century or even
just a year, depending on the exact density. Such a time span
would have been too short for stars to accomplish their
nuclear alchemy and produce heavy elements like carbon, which
are essential to life. On the other hand, if the initial
density of matter had been too low, then there would not have
been enough gravity for stars to form. And no stars, no heavy
elements, and no life! Everything hangs on an extremely
delicate balance. The initial density of the universe had to
be fixed to an accuracy of 10^-60. This astonishing precision
is analogous to the dexterity of an archer hitting a
one-centimeter-square target placed 14 billion light-years
away, at the edge of the observable universe! The precision of
the fine-tuning varies, depending on the particular constant
or initial condition, but in each case, just a tiny change
makes the universe barren, devoid of life and consciousness.
2. Is there a principle of
organization?
What are we to make of such an
extraordinary fine-tuning? It seems to me that we are faced
with two distinct choices: the tuning was the consequence of
either chance or necessity (to quote the title of the French
biologist Jacques Monod’s book, Chance and Necessity, Alfred
A. Knopf, New York, 1971). If we opt for chance, then we must
postulate the existence of an infinite number of other
universes besides our own forming what is called a ‘multiverse’.
Each of these universes will have its own combination of
physical constants and initial conditions. But ours was the
only universe born with just the right combination to have
evolve to create life. All the others were losers and only
ours is the winner. If you play the lottery an infinite number
of times, then you inevitably end up winning the jackpot. On
the other hand, if we reject the hypothesis of a multiverse
and postulate that there exists a single universe, ours, then
we must postulate the existence of a principle of creation
which finely adjusted the evolution of the universe.
How to choose between these two options?
Science does not help us here because it allows both
possibilities. Concerning the chance option, there are several
ways that have been suggested to create a multiverse. For
example, to get around the probabilistic description of the
quantum world, the physicist Hugh Everett has proposed that
the universe splits into as many nearly identical copies of
itself as there are possibilities and choices to be made. Some
universes would differ only by the position of one electron in
one atom, but others would be more radically different. Their
physical laws and constants, their initial conditions wouldn’t
be the same. Another scenario is that of a cyclical universe
with an infinite series of Big Bangs and Big Crunches.
Whenever the universe is reborn from its ashes to begin again
in a new Big Bang, it would start with a new combination of
physical constants and initial conditions. Yet another
possibility to create a multiverse is the theory proposed by
the physicist Andrei Linde and others whereby each of the
infinite number of fluctuations of the primordial quantum
froth created a universe. Our universe would then be just a
tiny bubble in a super-universe made up of an infinite number
of other bubbles. Except for our own, none of those universes
would harbor intelligent life because their physical constants
and laws wouldn’t be suitable.
3. There is not a Creator in
Buddhism
What is the position of Buddhism
regarding the remarkable fine-tuning of the universe? Does it
accept the notion of an all-knowing Creator or some sort of
principle of creation that finely adjusted the evolution of
the universe? Or does it attribute the remarkable harmony and
precision of the universe to chance? The question of whether
or not there is a creating God is a key point of distinction
between Buddhism and the other great spiritual traditions of
the world. For Buddhism, the notion of a ‘first cause’ does
not stand up to analysis. And that’s because of the concepts
of vacuity and interdependence discussed before. Buddhism
considers the question of ‘creation’ irrelevant because
according to it, phenomena aren’t really born, in the sense
that they pass from nonexistence into existence. They exist
only in terms of what is called ‘relative truth’ and have no
actual reality. Relative, or conventional, truth comes from
our experience of the world where we suppose that things exist
objectively. Buddhism says that such perceptions are deceptive
as, ultimately, phenomena are not objective, i.e. they have no
intrinsic existence. This is the ‘absolute truth.’ In these
terms, the question of creation becomes a false problem. The
problem of an ‘origin’ comes about only from a belief in the
absolute reality of phenomena. The idea of creation is
necessary only if we believe in an objective world. It
disappears when we realize that phenomena, although they can
be clearly seen, have no separate existence and are not
‘objective’. And if creation is not needed, the idea of a
Creator is also not required.
The Buddhist view does not, however,
exclude the possibility of the unfolding of the world.
Obviously the phenomena we see around us aren’t nonexistent,
but Buddhism maintains that if we examine how they exist, then
we soon see that they can’t be viewed as a set of independent
entities, each with its own existence. To quote Nagarjuna, the
great second-century Indian philosopher: ‘The nature of
phenomena is that of mutual dependence; in themselves,
phenomena are nothing at all.’ Thus their evolution is neither
by chance nor fixed by divine intervention. Instead they
follow the laws of cause and effect in a global
interdependence and reciprocal causality. Because things have
no independent reality, they can’t really ‘begin’ or ‘end’ as
distinct entities. The idea of the universe’s beginning and
ending belongs to relative, not absolute, truth.
How does this view square with present
scientific cosmology? The only sort of universe that would
have no beginning nor end would be a cyclical universe, with
an infinite series of Big Bangs and Big Crunches in the past
and in the future. But the scenario of our universe one day
collapsing into itself in a Big Crunch appears to be not in
agreement with present-day observations. These say that the
mass densities of luminous matter (0.5% of the total mass and
energy content of the universe), dark matter (29.5%) and dark
energy (70%) add up to be just the critical density. This
means that the geometry of the universe is flat, i.e. it will
expand forever, its expansion velocity not reaching zero until
after an infinite time in the future. Thus our present state
of knowledge seems to exclude the idea of a cyclical universe.
4. Streams of consciousness
coexisting with the material world
How about the anthropic principle? As
far as Buddhism is concerned, the extraordinary fine-tuning of
the universe for consciousness to emerge is not the work of a
Great Watchmaker since the latter does not exist. Nor is it
the product of pure chance as suggested by proponents of the
multiverse idea: we are here because we just happen to live by
chance in the universe with the right combination of physical
constants and physical conditions. Buddhism considers that the
material universe and consciousness have always coexisted
since beginningless time. To coexist, phenomena must be
mutually suitable, hence the remarkable fine-tuning. The
latter arises because matter and consciousness cannot exclude
each other, because they are interdependent. How does that
point of view chime with modern neurobiology? Biological
sciences are still a long way from being able to explain the
origin of consciousness. However, the vast majority of
biologists think that there is no need to postulate streams of
consciousness that coexists with matter. They hold that that
the former can emerge from the latter, that mind can arise
from matter. Consciousness arose once the networks of brain
cells in living beings reached a certain threshold of
complexity. In their view, consciousness emerged, just as life
itself, from the intricate assembly of inanimate atoms.
One question arises: when Buddhism
conjectures that consciousness is separate from, and
transcends the physical, isn’t it falling back into
Descartes’s mind-body dualism, in which there are two distinct
types of reality, that of the mind (or thought) and that of
the material world? The answer is no. Buddhism’s view is
radically different from Cartesian dualism. There’s merely a
conventional difference between matter and consciousness
because, in the end, neither of them has an inherent
existence. Because Buddhism refutes the ultimate reality of
phenomena, it also refutes the idea that consciousness is
independent and exists inherently.
V. Science and
spirituality: two windows into reality
I have attempted above to show that
there are striking convergences between the views of reality
of Buddhism and modern science. The concept of ‘impermanence’,
a key Buddhist concept, echoes the concept of evolution in the
cosmological, geological and biological sciences. Nothing is
static, everything changes, moves and evolves, from the
tiniest atom to the largest structures in the universe. The
universe itself has acquired a history. Darwinian evolution
coupled with natural selection rules the constant changes in
the living world. The concept of ‘interdependence’, which is
at the heart of Buddhism, resonates with the globality and
non-separability of space implied by the EPR experiment on the
atomic and subatomic scales, and by Foucault’s pendulum
experiment on the scale of the universe. The Buddhist concept
of ‘emptiness’, the absence of any permanent and autonomously
existing phenomena, finds its scientific equivalent in the
dual nature of light and matter in the quantum world. Because
a photon is a wave when we do not observe it and a particle
when we make a measurement, it can be said not to have an
inherent and autonomous existence, its appearance depending on
the observer.
I have also pointed out that Buddhism
rejects the idea of a beginning of the universe and of a God
or a creative principle which fine-tunes its properties to
allow the emergence of consciousness. Buddhism considers that
consciousness is coexistent with matter, but does not derive
from it. Because both are mutually interdependent, there is no
need for to fine-tune the material universe for it to harbor
consciousness.
The above convergences are not
surprising, given that both science and Buddhism use criteria
of rigor and authenticity to attain the truth. Since both aim
to describe reality, they must meet on common grounds and not
be exclusive of each other. Whereas in science the primary
methods of discovery are experimentation and theorizing based
on analysis, in Buddhism contemplation is the primary method.
Both are windows which allow us to peer at reality. They are
both valid in their respective domains and complement each
other. Science reveals to us ‘conventional’ knowledge. Its aim
is to understand the world of phenomena. Its technical
applications can have a good or bad effect on our physical
existence. Contemplation, however, by helping us to see the
true nature of reality, aims to improve our inner selves so
that we can act to improve everybody’s existence. Scientists
use ever more powerful instruments to probe nature. In the
contemplative approach, the only instrument is the mind. The
contemplative observes how his thoughts are bound together and
how they bind him. He examines the mechanisms of happiness and
suffering and tries to discover the mental processes that
increase his inner peace and make him more open to others in
order to develop them, as well as those processes that have a
destructive effect in order to eliminate them. Science
provides us with information, but brings about no spiritual
growth or transformation. By contrast, the spiritual or
contemplative approach must lead to a profound personal
transformation in the way we perceive the world and act on it.
The Buddhist, by realizing that objects have no intrinsic
existence, lessens his attachment to them, which diminishes
his suffering. The scientist, with the same realization, is
content to consider that as an intellectual advance which can
be used to further his work, without changing fundamentally
his basic vision of the world and how he leads his life.
When faced with ethical or moral issues
which, as in the field of genetics, are becoming ever more
pressing, science needs the help of spirituality in order not
to forget our humanity. Einstein expresses admirably that need
for the union of science and spirituality: ‘The religion of
the future will be a cosmic religion. It will have to
transcend a personal God and avoid dogma and theology
Encompassing both the natural and the spiritual, it will have
to be based on a religious sense arising from the experience
of all things, natural and spiritual, considered as a
meaningful unity… Buddhism answers this description…If there
is any religion that could respond to the needs of modern
science, it would be Buddhism.’
Suggestions for further reading
The themes discussed here are developed
in greater detail in:
Ricard, Matthieu, and Thuan, Trinh Xuan,
The Quantum and the Lotus, New York, Crown, 2001; Paperback
edition: New York, Three Rivers Press, 2004
Over the last 20 years, there have been
a series of ‘Mind and life’ meetings between the Dalai Lama
and a number of eminent scientists including neurobiologists,
psychiatrists, philosophers and physicists. The emphasis of
these meetings has been mainly on the mind since Buddhism has
devised over 25 centuries a profound and rigorous approach to
understanding mental states and the ultimate nature of the
mind, and can bring much to Western neurobiology. Published
accounts of these meetings include:
Goleman, Daniel, ed., Healing Emotions:
Conversations with the Dalai Lama on Mindfulness, Emotions and
Health, Boston, Shambhala Publications, 1997
----. Destructive Emotions: A scientific
Dialogue with the Dalai Lama, New York, Bantam Doubleday, 2002
Hayward, Jeremy W., Shifting Worlds
Changing Minds: Where the Sciences and Buddhism Meet, Boston,
Shambala Publications, 1987
Houshmand, Zara, Livingston, Robert B.,
Wallace, B. Alan, eds. Consciousness at the Crossroads:
Conversations with the Dalai Lama on Brainscience and
Buddhism, Ithaca, New York, Snow Lion Publications, 1999
Varela, Francisco, J. ed., Sleeping,
Dreaming and Dying: An Exploration of Consciousness with the
Dalai Lama, Boston, Wisdom Publications, 1997
Varela, Francisco, J. and Hayward,
Jeremy, eds., Gentle Bridges: Conversations with the Dalai
Lama on the Sciences of Mind, Boston, Shambhala Publications,
2001
Zajonc, Arthur, ed., The New Physics and
Cosmology: Dialogues with the Dalai Lama, New York, Oxford
University Press, 2004
Other works that discuss the
relationships between science and Buddhism are:
Wallace, B. Alan, The Taboo of
Subjectivity: Toward a new science of consciousness, New York,
Oxford University Press, 2000
---- ed. Buddhism and Science: Breaking
New Ground, New York, Columbia University Press, 2003
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