parlêtre

Critique of Pragmatic Dharma #1

with 7 comments

I recently listened to a two-part conversation on the engaging Imperfect Buddha podcast with Daniel Ingram. The conversation, which was at times interesting and at others disappointing, provoked me to write a few reflections on the Pragmatic Dharma movement, a loosely knit collection of meditation teachers and practitioners that has emerged in recent years, perhaps beginning with Ingram’s book, Mastering the Core Teachings of the Buddha. My engagement with the movement has been twofold: (1) I read the book a number of years ago and have engaged with its practices and (2) as a practicing psychoanalyst, I have worked with several patients who are deeply engaged in meditation practice and have been able to observe the benefits they have derived from that engagement as well as the ways in which it has been problematic for them.

I begin with two questions about Pragmatic Dharma (henceforth, PD) as presented in Ingram’s book: (1) what is its underlying theory of mind and (2) what is its theory of transformation? The practice presented by PD, derived from Mahasi-style meditation, involves directing attention to ‘sensate experience’ as it emerges form the ‘six sense doors’ (sight, smell, taste, touch, hearing, and consciousness) in ‘moment-to-moment experience.’ The emphasis on moment-to-moment experience, which can be traced to the notion of ‘momentary consciousness’ elaborated in the Abdhidharma literature, seems to suggest that experience emerges through the six sense doors in each moment, vanishes completely, and then re-emerges in the next moment.

My argument is that while this is certainly an interesting, even at times fruitful way of engaging with experience, it is a profoundly impoverished view of the mind. (I am certainly aware that there is extensive philosophical engagement with the concerns I am raising throughout the vast collection of Buddhist literature. It’s simply beyond my expertise to mobilize that literature in this critique.) This impoverishment stems from the fact that this model of the mind privileges conscious experience while failing to acknowledge that the mind also has a latent (or depth, or unconscious) aspect. Memory, a faculty of the mind, would seem to require that something persists between mind moments, though that something persists as a latent structure of the mind. Similarly, one of the primary functions of the mind is to make meaning of experience.

Meaning is the recognition of a pattern, a linking of disparate elements. For this to happen, we must engage the faculty of memory. Much of the meaning that we make involves recognizing patterns that emerge over time – not in a single mind moment but, rather, over spans of time that vary in length. Let me give an example. I’m with a friend and sensations emerge in my experience that I recognize to be ‘generosity.’ Warmth emerges in the area of my heart and thoughts about how I might behave for his benefit emerge in my moment-to-moment experience. Let’s, for a moment, adopt another way of looking at this scenario. I know from my personal history that I tend to feel generous as a way to avoid the guilt and shame that accompany focusing on my own interests. I know this because I have been able to observe that pattern over time; linking together numerous examples of thought, feeling, and behavior allows me to understand that my current feeling of generosity is an attempt to avoid focusing on my own projects and ambitions.

This, in my opinion, speaks to the problem of spiritual bypassing and boundary violation that are so rampant in meditation communities. Many have spoken to the fact that spiritual teachers are subject to idealization by students, lose access to accountability structures, etc. Another factor, less recognized, is that meditation as traditionally conceived undercuts the process of psychological self-understanding (i.e., recognizing the meaning of our thoughts and feelings, how they link up with our personal histories, and how they drive patterns of emotion and behavior that recur over time).

I have seen this in process take place in many patients who have engaged extensively with meditation and also in my own engagement with these practices. Recurrent training to attend to the sensate experience moment-by-moment can undermine the capacity to make meaning of experience. (The psychoanalyst Wilfred Bion described this as an ‘attack on linking’, that is, on the meaning-making function of the mind.) When I ask these patients how they are feeling, or what they are thinking, or what’s on their mind, they tend to answer in terms of their sensate experience, which makes it difficult for them to engage in a transformative process of psychological self-understanding.

In my next post, I’ll look at the theory of transformation implicit in PD.

Written by parletre

June 7, 2011 at 6:16 am

Posted in Uncategorized

7 Responses

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  1. I think you are engaged in an extraordinarily interesting and vitally important line of thought with this post. I hope you will write more about it. It is a demonstrably accurate to claim, I think, that “meditation as traditionally conceived undercuts the process of psychological self-understanding.” More even, meditation as being reconceived (re-commodified?) as “mindfulness” equally undercuts that process. So, I guess you could argue that there is a direct line from Theravadin/Vipassana’s “bare attention” to mindfulness’s “non-judgmentalism,” and so on. I agree that this particular rhetoric of experience–of immediate or raw or present-moment experience–assumes a “profoundly impoverished view of the mind,” and for the very reasons that you offer. I also think that when people “describe” some such experience, it is only minimally a description and maximally an ideologically-infused interpretation. Such mis-named interpretations, furthermore, are encoded with a crypto-ontology, crypto-epistemology, crypto-idealism, and more. As a psychoanalyst you are interested in taking it in this direction, toward the latent aspect. I would be interested, also, in seeing it taken in the other direction, toward the social. That is, to what extent are personal “sensate experience” and the social nexus co-emergent? Much x-buddhist rhetoric around experience assumes a subjective atomism that is, I believe, deeply mistaken. Looking forward to more!

    Glenn Wallis

    June 19, 2019 at 8:50 pm

  2. […] with one comment […]

  3. I was invited on Twitter to engage with these posts, so I’ll begin at the beginning with this one and comment on the other posts at the corresponding pages. I haven’t listened to the podcast with Ingram or read his book, so my comments are general and not specific to his ideas.

    On Mahasi style practice and its underlying theory of mind: Mahasi style vipassana practice is a modern Buddhist (Buddhist modernist) practice, one that doesn’t pre-date modern Burmese lay reform Buddhism. (See Robert Sharf, “Buddhist Modernism and the Rhetoric of Meditative Experience,” Numen 42, no. 3 (1995), pp. 228-283.) The same can be said about Goenka’s body-scan method. Although teachers like Mahasi and Goenka link their practices to the Abhidhamma, the connection isn’t straightforward. The Abhidhamma/Abhidharma models aren’t the result of meditation practice; they’re neither a direct read-out of the results of meditation nor a theoretical elaboration of meditation. Rather, the Abhidhamma/Abhidharma originates as a scholastic interpretive genre—a genre whose aim is to systematize the prima facie divergent teachings found in the Buddhist sūtras. (It’s important to remember that we have no direct evidence about what the Buddha as a historical person thought and taught; all our evidence is from texts that are at least one step, and more likely several steps, removed from the Buddha.)

    When one practices modern vipassana, one starts with a conceptual system (with ideas like “the six sense doors,” “moment-to-moment arising,” etc.) and imposes it onto one’s experience as one sits. So, one is actually shaping the mind according to a certain conceptual system, not directly observing experience “as it is in itself” independent of concepts.

    So, this is brings us to the value/validity of that conceptual system. I agree that the model of mind at play is extremely impoverished. It’s impoverished from Buddhist philosophical perspectives and from the perspective of cognitive science. It’s also impoverished from a psychodynamic perspective. The model is indeed incapable of handling the latent depths of the mind—learning and memory. Buddhist philosophers recognized this, and so introduced concepts like bhavaṅga (the “life-continuum cognition”) in Theravāda or the ālayavijñāna (“store-consciousness”) in Yogācāra. Unconscious learning and memory are foundational concepts and huge areas of research in cognitive science. And the dynamics of the preconscious and unconscious are central to psychodynamic theories.

    From a cognitive science perspective, the ancient Buddhist taxonomy of the “six sense doors” is thoroughly inadequate. It dichotomizes the senses, and so can’t handle synaesthesia and complex forms of cross-modal integration. It doesn’t properly describe interoception, proprioception, and kinaesthesia. It also doesn’t distinguish between all the varieties of mental processes (mental attention, working memory, metacognition, etc.).

    Applying the “six sense doors” theory to the mind is like applying Platonic, Aristotelian, or Stoic theories to the mind. They’re interesting theories but outmoded given contemporary knowledge. Thinking that ancient Buddhist theories of the mind are somehow intrinsically better than other ancient Greek or Indian (e.g., Samkhya) theories is an example of what I call “Buddhist exceptionalism” (in my forthcoming book, Why I Am Not a Buddhist).

    Regarding meaning-making: in traditional Buddhist contexts and cultures, this is provided by the whole backdrop of the Buddhist soteriological worldview. You can’t possibly get this worldview and meaning framework from just sitting and watching your conscious mind with modern vipassana practices. On the contrary, it’s already clear from canonical texts like the “Discourse on the Establishment of Mindfulness” that the meaning system comes first and the practice takes place within it.

    I agree that “Recurrent training to attend to the sensate experience moment-by-moment can undermine the capacity to make meaning of experience.” This can happen if one excessively pursues that kind of attention divorced from other practices or from a larger framework of meaning. This often seems to occur in modern vipassana practice. It’s not clear, however, that these points apply to “meditation as traditionally conceived.” Modern vipassana isn’t a traditional practice (as far as we know) and in traditional contexts a rich background meaning framework (the Buddhist soteriological worldview) is present and shapes meditation practice.

    — Evan Thompson

    evanthomps

    June 22, 2019 at 2:39 pm

  4. […] thought about how to best reply to Daniel Ingram’s response to my first three blog posts [1] [2] [3]. Given that his reply is quite extensive, I have decided to respond to the points that, in […]

  5. […] Wooldridge’s posts expressing doubts about contemporary Theravada-derived meditation: 1, 2, 3. These are the ones Thompson responded to. I have expressed similar doubts before, and I […]

  6. […] this post, I will discuss Daniel Ingram’s response to my first three blog posts [1][2][3], focusing in particular on our dialogue on the agency in the third post [3]. Daniel […]

  7. […] parlêtre. Critique of Pragmatic Dharma #1 […]


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