The Three Poisons, Part 2

For Mind Your Body readers who missed the second part of my current series on The Three Poisons, here it is.  (Those of you who missed the first part too will find it further down the page).

THE THREE POISONS: PART 2

According to the Buddha, the root causes of human suffering are ‘three poisons’: greed, hatred and delusion.  In my previous column, I briefly described all three poisons and went on to discuss greed in more detail.  This week I will discuss the remaining poisons: hatred and delusion.

Poison #2: hatred

Previously, I explained that the Buddhist conception of greed is not limited to avarice and gluttony.  It encompasses all cravings to get hold of things; keep hold of them; and then get more of them.

In the same way, the Buddhist conception of hatred is not limited to feelings of hostility and loathing.  It encompasses the whole spectrum of everyday aversions and dislikes: the irritation we feel when we have to perform an irksome duty; the frustration we experience when our plans go astray; the shame we feel when we lose an argument; and so on.

Hatred, the Buddha tells us, pollutes the mind.  It makes us want to avoid, or even harm, people we dislike; it causes us to feel resentment whenever we find ourselves in unpleasant circumstances; it creates conflict, turmoil and discontent.

In a sense, hatred is the flip side of the coin to greed.  Greed creates a nagging dissatisfaction on account of the desirable things we cannot have.  Hatred creates a nagging dissatisfaction on account of the undesirable things we cannot avoid.  Either way, suffering ensues.

Poison #3: delusion

The third poison, delusion, is perhaps the most difficult to understand, especially for people like myself who are admirers of the Buddha’s philosophy but not devotees of the Buddhist religion.

Essentially, delusion has to do with having wrong understandings or wrong views of reality.  According to Buddhist teaching, one of the most fundamental of these wrong views is the belief that objects in the world – including one’s own mind and body, and other people’s minds and bodies – exist in a much more concrete and permanent way than they actually do.

In consequence of this wrong understanding we are deceived into thinking that the world contains pure and lasting satisfactions; that if only we can grasp hold of certain things, and avoid certain other things, we will achieve lasting contentment.  But, in fact, there are no pure and lasting satisfactions.  Everything is imperfect.  Everything is impermanent.

Because we are deluded in this way, we spend our lives grasping at straws.   Dissatisfaction and disappointment are therefore inevitable.

Gloom and doom?

The Buddha taught, then, that the ‘three poisons’ pollute the mind and create suffering for ourselves and others.  He said:

‘Inflamed by greed, incensed by hate, confused by delusion, overcome by them, obsessed in mind,  a man chooses for his own affliction, for others’ affliction, for the affliction of both, and experiences pain and grief.’

On the face of it, this seems a very gloomy doctrine.  We find ourselves asking, is life really so bad?  Is there no happiness in the world?

But, in fact, the Buddha does not deny that we ever experience happiness.  On the contrary, he asserts that life affords many opportunities for happiness.  What he denies is that any such happiness will be secure and lasting.  Lurking in the background of even our happiest moments there will always be dissatisfaction and discontent.

Furthermore, the Buddha does not merely identify the sources of our discontent; he offers a way of dealing with them.  He does not merely provide a diagnosis of life’s ills; he offers a cure.  His teaching, rather than being negative and depressing, is ultimately positive.

The Buddha prescribes antidotes to all three poisons; to greed, hatred and delusion.  He advocates positive, practical measures to counteract their influence and make our lives more joyful, peaceful and satisfying.  These will be the subject of my next column: the last one in this series.

The Three Poisons: Part 1

For Mind Your Body readers who missed the first part of my current series on The Three Poisons, I've reprinted it below.

THE THREE POISONS: PART 1

Although I am not a Buddhist, I am often struck by the wisdom and clarity of the Buddha’s teachings.  Being a sceptic at heart, I do not buy into the doctrines of karma, reincarnation and suchlike.  But I am often awed by the Buddha’s insights into human nature.  His words shine a light upon some of the deep recesses of the soul.

The three poisons

For me, some of the Buddha’s most inspirational and challenging teachings concern the ‘three poisons’: greed, hatred and delusion.  These are sometimes referred to as the ‘three fires’ or ‘three unwholesome roots’.

In Buddhism, these three poisons are said to be the primary causes of human suffering.  They pollute the mind and give rise to non-virtuous and unskilful thoughts and actions; and they cause all kinds of unhappiness for ourselves and others.

The Buddha expresses this doctrine simply and elegantly in the following words: “Greed is an imperfection that defiles the mind; hate is an imperfection that defiles the mind; delusion is an imperfection that defiles the mind.”

On the ‘wheel of life’, a pictorial representation of the Buddha’s teachings, often found on the walls of Tibetan Buddhist temples, the three poisons are represented by a bird (greed), a snake (hatred) and a pig (delusion).

Poison #1: greed

Greed, in the Buddhist sense, isn’t just about amassing piles of cash or eating to excess.  It is more subtle and pervasive than that.  It is a craving or compulsion to get hold of things; to keep hold of them; and then to get more of them.  It is a grasping after happiness and satisfaction through possessing things.

The objects desired need not be, in themselves, bad or harmful.  For example, one of my great loves in life is classic literature.  Over the years, I have read and enjoyed scores of novels by the great writers of the past.  Curiously, though, I am often conscious of a nagging unease, a mild but deep-seated sense of dissatisfaction, occasioned by the thought of all the celebrated works that I haven’t yet read.

No matter how many books I read, this feeling never really goes away.  All of those hundreds of novels as yet unread – still ‘unpossessed’ - nag away gently but persistently at my peace of mind.  This is, of course, a trite example.  Yet it illustrates how greed, in the Buddhist sense, can take the shine off even the most innocent pleasures.

But the poison of greed does far worse than taint innocent enjoyments.  It creates an inner hunger that can never be satisfied; that grows ever stronger the more it consumes.  It generates anxiety, suffering and unhappiness.  For example, the hunger for material possessions can lead to unjust, self-serving and ungenerous behaviours.  The hunger for love can lead to insecurity and grief, and to self-centredness in relationships.

This nagging sense of unfulfilled desire was beautifully described by the nineteenth century German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer.  He wrote: “[The will’s] desires are unlimited, its claims inexhaustible, and every satisfied desire gives birth to a new one.  No possible satisfaction in the world could suffice to still its craving, set a final goal to its demands, and fill the bottomless pit of its heart.”

Antidotes

Many readers will, like me, identify with Schopenhauer’s words and with the Buddhist analysis of greed.  But it is important to remember that the Buddha’s teaching was not intended to be negative or unpleasant.  His motivation was not to add to human suffering but to alleviate (and ultimately to eradicate) it.  “Both in the past and now, I set forth only this: suffering and the end of suffering,” he proclaimed.

Buddha talked not only about the poison of greed, but also about its antidote.  This makes his teaching on the subject ultimately positive and empowering.

What then is the Buddhist antidote to greed?  This is a question I will return to in my next column, having first discussed the two remaining poisons: hatred and delusion.

Podcast review of You Kant Make It Up!

There's a nice brief audio review of You Kant Make It Up!: Strange Ideas from History's Greatest Philosophers here: http://entertainment.xin.msn.com/en/radio/podcast/talking-books

That Man's Father

When I was a child, my mother once said to me:

“A man is looking at a photograph.  Someone asks him who he is looking at, and he replies, ‘Brothers and sisters have I none.  But that man’s father is my father’s son.’”

I remember my brain approaching meltdown as I attempted to solve the riddle.  After a minute or two, my mother told me the solution, and explained it to me.  But although I accepted her solution, I couldn’t follow her explanation.

Yesterday, 40 years on, I began reading What Is The Name of This Book, a collection of logical puzzles and conundrums by Raymond Smullyan.  Lo and behold, the first puzzle in the book was the one about my father’s son.

I decided to give it some serious thought and – to my surprise and consternation – I realised that my mother had given me the wrong solution all those years ago.  No wonder her explanation didn’t make sense!

Raymond Smullyan says that this old puzzle is one which many people believe they know the answer to when, in fact, like my mother, they have it all wrong.

So chances are, if you think you know the answer, you need to think again.

On Being Your Own Best Friend

I wrote this piece a few years ago for the Straits Times's Mind Your Body supplement.

I'm not sure I'm entirely in agreement with what I wrote back then.  But see what you make of it.

If you enjoy it, please sign up as a 'follower' of this blog.

On Being Your Own Best Friend

“A man is his own best friend.  Therefore he ought to love himself most.” (Aristotle)

The greatest love of all?

The greatest love of all is easy to achieve.  Learning to love yourself – it is the greatest love of all, sang Whitney Houston in 1986.  The sentiment struck a chord with listeners, and helped send the song to the top of the US charts.

But what does it mean to love yourself?  And is self-love really ‘the greatest love of all’?  The Greek philosopher Aristotle tackled these questions more than 2,000 years ago.  His answers are profound, challenging - and still relevant today.

Being your own best friend

Readers who followed my recent series on love will know that Aristotle had a lot to say about friendship.  But they may be surprised to learn that Aristotle considered self-love to be the foundation on which all friendships are built.

Being someone’s friend means wishing them well, doing good things for them and sharing their sorrows and joys.  But these things apply doubly to ourselves.  We wish ourselves well, do good things for ourselves, and take a passionate interest in our own sorrows and joys.

We are own best friend.

According to Aristotle, self-love comes prior to friendship with others.  First we love ourselves; and then we love those other ‘selves’ - our friends.  In fact, we cannot be a friend to others without first being a friend to ourselves.

This explains why people with low self-esteem find it difficult to enjoy satisfying relationships.  “All the feelings that constitute friendship for others,” says Aristotle, “are an extension of regard for self.”

When self-love is wrong

Aristotle thinks that self-love is perfectly right and proper.  But we need to be very clear about what he means by this.

In everyday conversation we generally describe people as ‘loving themselves’ if they are exceptionally selfish or vain.  Aristotle recognises this: “Those who make it a term of reproach call men lovers of self when they assign to themselves the larger share of money, honours or bodily pleasures.”

Self-love of this kind is plainly wrong.  It is clearly not the kind of self-love Aristotle approves of.  Indeed, he goes so far as to say that people who love themselves in this way do not really love themselves at all.

‘Morally inferior’ people are at variance with themselves, he says.  They choose whatever is pleasant, even though it may be harmful.  Or, out of ‘cowardice or idleness’, they neglect to do what is in their own interests.  Far from being their own best friend, they are their own worst enemy:

“A bad man appears to be devoid of affection even for himself, because he has nothing loveable in his nature.  … [Therefore] we should do our utmost to shun wickedness and try to be virtuous.  That is the way both to be friends with ourselves and to win the friendship of others.”

When self-love is right

So much for ‘bad’ people.  But what about the good ones?  In what sense do they love themselves?

Aristotle’s answer is that we love ourselves in the proper sense when we pursue our own true good.  This means making intelligent decisions rather than being buffeted by desires; having regard to long-term interests rather than acting on impulse; behaving with dignity and treating ourselves with respect.

The man who truly loves himself is his own best friend.  He encourages himself to become the best that he can be.  Therefore the true self-lover will not behave selfishly.  He knows that he cannot live a truly good life unless he has proper regard for his family, his friends and his community.

“The good man ought to be a lover of self, since he will then both benefit himself by acting nobly, and aid his fellows.”

Learning to love yourself

Lots of self-help writers extol the virtues of loving yourself.  I recently read a web-article, written by therapist Sarah Leah Blum.  She says: “We all need to love ourselves to have a full healthy balanced life.”

Aristotle would certainly agree.

She then goes on to say, “Make the decision to love yourself in every moment - unconditionally - no matter what.  Act and speak only in loving ways to yourself.”

This is quite common advice, but I don’t think Aristotle would agree.  He would point out that respect has to be earned, and that self-respect is no different.

Nobody is perfect.  Most of us fall far short.  But we can all benefit from Aristotle’s advice:

We should do our utmost to shun wickedness and try to be virtuous.  That is the way both to be friends with ourselves and to win the friendship of others.