Classical Indian philosophy makes little sense to me

Well, I gave it a try. Today Google News, in its Picks For You section, presented me with a link to an Aeon article, "By the light of brahman: Ideas from classical Indian philosophy help illuminate the enigmas of selfhood, consciousness and the nature of reality."

I decided to read the article, albeit quickly, because I hoped it would live up to the title by illuminating those enigmas.

I did learn something: that classical Indian philosophy makes little sense to me. Of course, since this philosophy is the foundation of Hinduism, it isn't surprising that atheist me would find little to like in all the talk about Brahman and Atman (basically, God and soul). 

However, since I resonate with Buddhism, another philosophy that originated in India, I thought that maybe, just maybe, Vedic Hinduism would have something interesting to say about our modern attempts to understand the nature of selfhood, consciousness, and the nature of reality.

Perhaps this article does a poor job at that goal, but my first somewhat superficial reading of it left me unimpressed. Again, though, I'm unimpressed with every religion. (For me, but not for many others, Buddhism is much more of a philosophy than a religion.)

The way I see it, Vedic Hinduism is inherently metaphysical and supernatural, while philosophical Buddhism is inherently psychological and natural. This makes it much easier for me to relate to Buddhism, since often I can recognize how my mind works in its teachings.

On the other hand, the whole Brahman and Atman thing is difficult for me to find any practical use for, or relevance to my everyday life. The article says:

Naciketas presses Yama for clarity about the nature of the relationship between brahman and the world of experienced reality. Yama says that the way to think of consciousness is that it is the thing that ‘illuminates’ and that allows for all mental phenomena. Consciousness, in turn, is itself illuminated by brahman – the one and only source of all illumination. Without brahman there would be no light of consciousness and therefore no experience, no knowledge, no perception. ‘Him alone, as he shines, do all things reflect; this whole world radiates with his light.’

There is only one reality, brahman, which takes myriad illusory forms, but like fire it is both an individual flame and a blaze. This one reality is both the transcendental brahman and the immanent ātman. Everything else is fleeting, illusory, sprung from ignorance. Consciousness is illumination. As the light of a blazing lamp brightens a dark room, so consciousness lights up life.

So while Buddhism, along with modern neuroscience, has a lot to say about the contents of consciousness, and to a lesser degree about the nature of consciousness itself, Vedic Hinduism considers that the consciousness we all experience flows from the universal consciousness of Brahman -- which makes the foundation of consciousness into something supernatural, even though the human brain sure seems to be why we're conscious, and the brain is physical.

I've read quite a few books that make a strong case for how philosophical Buddhism is compatible with modern neuroscience. It's difficult for me to imagine how this would be possible with Vedic Hinduism, as it is decidedly other-worldly.

In fact, this world is considered to be an illusion, for reasons that seem spurious.

For a flavour of the kind of things classical Indian philosophers thought about, we will begin with a bird’s eye view of a few notions from classical Indian philosophy, with the caveat that every idea described below has been hotly debated for hundreds of years.

Central to Indian philosophy is the idea of illusion. Here, there is a distinction between temporal and presentational notions of illusion. The first holds that whatever is not permanent in time, or else beyond time, is thereby an illusion. Of the various schools of Indian philosophy, Buddhism and Advaita Vedānta agree in accepting this account. The second notion holds that whatever is presented to a subject of experience as other than how it is, is an illusion. This notion derives from the school of Nyāya, its early proponents from the 1st millennium and the work of the 14th-century philosopher Gaṅgeśa, considered to be the founder of the New Nyāya movement.

With talk about illusion, of course, comes talk about reality. And here the classical Indian philosophers made a number of fine distinctions. For our purposes, three are of note: conventional reality, apparent reality, and ultimate reality. Conventional reality just means everyday reality, one that is based on the pragmatics of everyday life under societal conventions and laws. Think of money, or the game of chess. Apparent reality is the notion of a reality that depends on our sensory organs of perception and the machinations of the mind: what we see is a tree and not an aggregate of organic molecules. Finally, ultimate reality is the notion that there is an underlying or hidden substratum to the world. Advaita Vedānta, for example, holds that brahman is identical with this ultimate reality.

I don't agree that Buddhism views whatever is not permanent in time is an illusion. Quite the opposite, in fact. Emptiness is a key Buddhist concept, one I've written quite a bit about. In this post, I included quotes from a book about Buddhist emptiness. 

We exist contingently, interdependently. We exist, but only in dependence on our ancestors, our body parts, our food, air, and water, and the other members of our society. We could not and do not exist otherwise. Devoid of any independent or substantial nature, our existence is possible only because it is far less rigid, less concrete, than what we imagine it to be.

...Rather than seeing things as they are, we superimpose upon ourselves -- and on things around us -- a false existence, a self-existence or essential reality that actually does not exist at all. In the Buddhist philosophy explained here, the ultimate truth is the sheer absence, the lack, of any such essence.

This is emptiness (stong pa nyid, shunyata). While this may sound bleak, disappointing, or frightening, it is the very nature of reality. And it is reality -- not fantasy -- that is our final hope and our refuge. The path to freedom from needless misery, for ourselves and others, is through profound realization of this fundamental reality.

...The Tibetan and Sanskrit words that we translate as "emptiness" do, in fact, literally mean "emptiness." They refer specifically to some sort of lack or absence in things. But it is not a lack of meaning or hope or existence. 

It is the lack of the exaggerated and distorted kind of existence that we have projected onto things and onto ourselves. It is the absence of a false essential nature with which we have unconsciously invested everything. It can be quite frightening as we start to have doubts about this "heavy duty" kind of reality. We will feel that things cannot exist at all if they do not exist in the solid way we are accustomed to seeing them.

Vedic Hinduism has an opposite view of reality from Buddhism. It's much less scientific and much more supernatural. The notions of Brahman and Atman presuppose an essential nature to both the cosmos and ourselves. God and soul are viewed as self-sufficient, eternal, indestructible. 

As the quotation above says, the "empty" view of Buddhism can be frightening to people who want to believe that they existed before they were born and will continue to exist after they die. But reality doesn't care how we humans feel about it, for it simply is what it is.

And I'm pretty sure that classical Indian philosophy doesn't reflect the nature of reality, but of the minds of ancient philosophers who fashioned some entertaining theology which, unfortunately, doesn't say much to scientifically-minded people today.

Comments

[Tej]

Dear Brian,

The teaching of Anicca or Impermanence is also key to Buddhist philosophy.

What is this impermanence referring to?

[101]

Emptiness is the lack of the material.

[101]

Or, better said, “emptiness” is the state of being absent the material.

[Brian Hines]

101, No, that isn't true. Emptiness in Buddhism is the lack of inherent existence, which applies to everything. Meaning, everything is the result of causes and conditions, leading to a universal interdependence. Emptiness has nothing to do with a lack of the material. Which makes sense, since philosophical Buddhism doesn't consider that anything is immaterial or supernatural.

[Ron E.]

‘Emptiness and dependent arising’. Two terms that sound very enigmatic but are actually quite reasonable, if not obvious expressions of life as it is.

Dependent arising is simply stating that everything is dependent on other things, that nothing exists in isolation; whether it is physical or mental, all is intricately connected. As a lifelong naturalist, it’s always been a fact of life that everything is interdependent. One of our main problems is that we think or feel that we humans are separate individuals, a mental stance that is no doubt the cause much of our suffering.

Emptiness is also a factual statement. We habitually invest everything with an essence and identify it as that. A tree becomes an object with the observer being the subject. Fine just for convenience and communication, but as a mental habit it contributes to our feelings of separation. A tree is no longer a dynamic living process interacting with the air, soil, microbes, insects, birds and animals and us, thought makes it into a thing separate from me.

The same goes for ‘me’, my ‘self’. Thought assumes that I am a separate, autonomous being. Ignoring or unconscious of the fact that what I call ‘I’ only exists in relationship to everyone and everything else. Modern neuro-research and (some) Buddhist thought clearly points out that what we call ‘me’ is simply a moment-to-moment dynamic ever-changing process. My ‘self’ then is an on-going construct, a construct that is empty of any permanent thing or essence.

Bluntly put, there is no ‘essence’ to anything, whether that is a tree, a rock, a bird or a human. For the sake of convenience, communication, personal security and generally through habit, we divide life up into this and that, thereby separating ourselves from each other and the world in general. This isolation becomes the root cause of much of our conflicts and consequent suffering.

Classical Indian philosophy, much like the western religions are dependent on various supernatural beliefs. Believing in such things can give people hope and comfort. It does seem that humans generally need something to believe in. And, as the old Sufi saying goes: - “Why take a fish out of water and moisten it with a little spittle?” I believe (think) that we can live without supernatural beliefs, but perhaps it takes a sort of courage and ‘self’ study to arrive at that.

[sant64]

Ron E: "Bluntly put, there is no ‘essence’ to anything, whether that is a tree, a rock, a bird or a human."

The Dalai Lama, rooted in Tibetan Buddhism, explains anatta (Pali, "no-self") as the absence of an independent, permanent self or soul. In Buddhist philosophy, particularly in the Madhyamaka school he follows, anatta means that what we perceive as a "self" is a composite of ever-changing aggregates (form, sensation, perception, mental formations, consciousness) without inherent existence. It’s not a denial of personhood but a rejection of a fixed, unchanging essence.
Personhood, in his view, is a functional, conventional reality. It’s the continuity of consciousness and actions (karma) that gives rise to the experience of being a person, even though no permanent self underlies it. He emphasizes that while anatta negates an intrinsic self, it doesn’t negate moral responsibility or the relative existence of individuals in everyday life. For example, he might say you still act compassionately toward others, recognizing their "personhood" as a dependently arising phenomenon, not an illusion to dismiss.

He often uses the analogy of a chariot: just as a chariot is a name given to assembled parts, a person is a designation for the aggregates working together, empty of inherent existence yet functionally real. This balances the ultimate truth (anatta) with conventional truth (personhood).

Is that so much different from basic Hindu teachings on the self? The Bhagavad Gita: The Gita (e.g., Chapter 2, verses 12-25) teaches that the body and ego-personality are temporary, subject to birth and death, while the true self (atman) is eternal. Like anatta’s rejection of a fixed personal essence in the aggregates, the Gita dismisses identification with the transient body-mind complex (e.g., “You are not the body” in 2:20).

What about functional personhood in the world?

Dalai Lama: Despite anatta, personhood exists conventionally, allowing for moral action, relationships, and karma. Individuals operate as dependently arising entities, engaging in compassionate deeds without clinging to a permanent self.

Compare wth this from the Bhagavad Gita: Krishna advises Arjuna to act according to his duty (dharma) as a warrior (e.g., 3:35, 18:47), recognizing his role in the world while understanding that his true self (atman) is beyond these roles. Both traditions affirm a practical sense of personhood for ethical living, even if it’s not the ultimate reality.

How about detachment from Ego?

Dalai Lama: Anatta encourages letting go of ego-clinging, as grasping a fixed self causes suffering. Liberation comes from realizing emptiness and acting selflessly.

Bhagavad Gita: Krishna urges detachment from ego-driven desires and outcomes (e.g., 2:47, “You have a right to perform your duty, but not to the fruits of action”). Both emphasize transcending a false sense of self to align with a higher truth—emptiness in Buddhism, atman/Brahman in the Gita.

Of course, one can parse differences ad infinitum. But both teachings deconstruct the ego-driven notion of self, urging detachment from a false identity (aggregates in Buddhism, body-mind in the Gita) while affirming a functional personhood for ethical action. They converge on living wisely in the world without clinging to permanence—Buddhism through realizing no-self, the Gita through realizing the eternal atman. However, they diverge sharply on whether an ultimate self exists: anatta negates it, while the Gita celebrates it as divine.

The Dalai Lama might liken the Gita’s atman to a conventional self mistaken for ultimate truth, while the Gita might see anatta as a partial truth missing the divine essence. Yet both agree: don’t cling to the fleeting, act with wisdom, and seek liberation beyond the ego.

Perhaps the key issue here is what I'd call conceptual capacity -- some people have an ability and affinity for believing in gods, and some do not. And so, taking Hinduism and Buddhism as a whole, there's a vast range of those who conceptualize God as a literal transcendent person, to those who say God is formless but is embodied in a divine Guru, to those who hold to classical Buddhist teachings that mix the supernatural with the Buddha's utterances on emptiness, to those who hold a radical Zen view, to those who are pure materialists/annihilationists. All of them have one thing in common: they will have to die to find out whether their philosophical view is the correct one.

Until then, the only true philosophical belief is the one that works best in this world. The one that
provides peace of mind, social harmony and healthy purpose. That is really the only one worth discussing.

[Appreciative Reader]

One way to grok Anicca might to think of it as the opposite of the idea of Platonic forms.

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Enjoyed reading the linked article. A well written introduction to Indian philosophy. Very cool, if one wishes to understand those systems of thought. As a descriptor of reality, not so much --- given it isn't linked to actual evidentiary support.

I have read a bit of Indian philosophy, actually, and it is my view that the only other ancient system that holds a candle to that vast complex subtle edifice is the Greeks. Complex systems of thought, astonishingly subtle, developed with scrupulous consistency and accuracy --- truly awesome, what the Indians of old managed to think up.

Where they missed, those ancients from India, is on accuracy. Which isn't their fault, because the techniques for arriving at accuracy (with respect to approaching/reflecting actual reality), which is to say the scientific method, had not been fashioned then. I firmly believe that had those intellectual giants of old been alive today, then they'd have been super excited to embrace the scientific method, and everything it entails. Those that point to that past greatness and remain mired in the impressive but ossified thought structures of those past times, do themselves a disservice, and fail completely to live up to that proud heritage.

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Agreed, Buddhistic philosophy comes closest to actually approaching reality. I believe the credit for that goes primarily to the experiential and analytical methods of the Buddha himself, that his successors emulated. But some of those that came after tended to go overboard, in my view. While old-school Theravada is all about experiential understanding and very light on theory per se, as separate from direct understanding; but Mahayana's philosophic excesses come close to angels-on-pinhead territory, in my view; and those excesses tend to go totally off the rails with Vajrayana. Again, in my view, and basis my (limited and fallible) understanding.

But, on the other hand, even despite my sympathies with the Theravadin perspective, I have to say this: that their insights generally comport with reality is merely a matter of happenstance. After all, if a hundred people think up a hundred separate theories, one of them is likely to come close to being right, in some matters, simply by chance. Unless we are able to identify the exact route by which Buddhistic thought, even despite lacking the scientific method per se, actually aimed for accuracy, actually built in some way to arrive at fidelity with actual reality.

(Well, to an extent the Buddha's strictly non-hierarchic, self-reliant, experiential methods did mimic the essence of science. But IMV it did not quite go far enough, except maybe from a strictly limited, psychological angle. Which last, after all, was all that the Buddha himself had aimed for, and claimed.)

[sant64]

"And I'm pretty sure that classical Indian philosophy doesn't reflect the nature of reality, but of the minds of ancient philosophers who fashioned some entertaining theology which, unfortunately, doesn't say much to scientifically-minded people today."

There's nothing "scientific" about Buddhism. That's why Sam Harris got so much grief from the other 3 Horsemen -- Hitchens, Dawkins, and Dennett -- who all thought his neo-advaita/Buddhist leanings to be nonsense.

There's nothing scientific about any of the Buddhist concepts of anatta, anitya, karma, the 4 Noble Truths, dharmakaya, nirvana, etc. Not any of them. They are all supernatural and, ultimately otherworldly concepts. They're all metaphysical claims and untestable.

Having said that, one can reasonably state there are certain social science values to Buddhism. For example, Buddhist meditations can produce certain measurable mentai and physiological effects. But the very same thing can be said for Hindu meditation, e.g., TM, where the name of a Hindu God is repeated, resulting in reports of peace of mind, improved mental clarity and lower blood pressure.

So it seems to me to be an overreach to infer that Buddhism *is* scientific. But is it far to say that Buddhism more scientific than Hinduism? Perhaps Buddhism appears slightly “more scientific” in a narrow sense because of these qualities:

Its emphasis on personal verification (ehipassiko) aligns better with scientific skepticism.

Anatta and impermanence resonate with neuroscience and physics more than atman or Brahman.

Mindfulness meditation has more extensive empirical research than Hindu practices, partly due to its secular adaptability.

Buddhism’s metaphysical claims (e.g., rebirth) are less central to its practical teachings, making them easier to study independently.

However, Hinduism’s yoga and meditation practices are equally rigorous and empirically validated in many contexts, and schools like Advaita involve systematic inquiry. The gap is small, as both traditions include untestable metaphysical claims (rebirth vs. atman) and prioritize liberation over empirical knowledge. Neither is “scientific” in essence—both offer insights science can study, but Buddhism’s streamlined focus and modern engagement give it a slight edge in scientific compatibility.

[Thetrumperwhodoesn'ttrump]

Well, the Buddha’s remark that “life is dukkha” — often translated as suffering, but better understood as unease, unsatisfactoriness, or the perpetual pebble in your cosmic shoe — is as elemental as it gets. There’s nothing supernatural about it. No thunderbolt from Mount Meru, no divine drama — just a plainspoken existential insight that hits harder the more you pay attention to your inbox on a Monday morning.

In fact, it’s as empirical as it is elegant. You don’t need incense or enlightenment to notice that life routinely doesn’t go as planned. The coffee spills. The flight’s delayed. The love unreciprocated. Dukkha is not a metaphysical mystery; it’s Tuesday.

T.H. Huxley — Darwin’s bulldog with a flair for philosophy — once said that we are all scientists, whether we admit it or not. Every time we form a hunch, test it against reality, and adjust accordingly (or stubbornly ignore the evidence and crash), we are doing science. Or, at least, we’re cosplaying as rational beings.

The real question, then, isn’t whether we’re scientists. It’s whether we’re any good at it. Are we willing to let our pet theories compete in the open coliseum of evidence? Or do we slip them past the guards in the disguise of dogma and tradition?

Science thrives not on certainty, but on correction. The moment we stop allowing our cherished beliefs to be challenged, they stop being hypotheses and start being holy relics — untouchable, untestable, and ultimately, unhelpful.

Even Karl Popper — the philosophical bouncer at the club of science — laid down a tough but necessary rule: if your claim can’t, even in principle, be proven wrong, then it's not science. It's poetry. Or politics. Or product marketing.

And sure, falsifiability isn’t perfect (just ask quantum physicists trying to measure things without changing them), but it keeps us humble — which is science’s secret superpower.

So yes, bring on the isms — spiritual, political, even intergalactic if you must — just don’t forget to give them parachutes. Because in the realm of reason, every idea has to jump, and only the ones that land safely — battered but unbroken — get to stay.

[Ron E.]

"The real question, then, isn’t whether we’re scientists. It’s whether we’re any good at it. Are we willing to let our pet theories compete in the open coliseum of evidence? Or do we slip them past the guards in the disguise of dogma and tradition?"

All good comments 'trumperwhodoesn'ttrump'. Succinctly put

[Appreciative Reader]

Yep, that's a great point. It isn't a question of whether we use science or not --- we do it anyway, every day of our lives, of necessity --- but of whether we do it right.

Reminds me of a logician's take on why study logic. The question isn't whether to use logic or not --- we use it in any case, of necessity, every day of our lives --- the question is whether we want to apply ourselves, and use it right, or use it incorrectly and arrive at wrong (and often nonsensical) conclusions.