By "ethics," in quotes, I mean talk about ethics, rather than
what people actually do. This page explains "ethics" as signaling:
personal advertisement. We all display "ethicalness" as a strategy for
looking like attractive mates and coworkers, by signaling class status,
tribal loyalty, and superior personality traits.
Although this post is part of a
series on leftish "Buddhist ethics," most of it applies equally to
all ethical posturing. As you read it, you can imagine the small
adjustments required for Christian rightish "ethics," or for secular
centrist "ethics."
People really, really want Buddhism to be about
ethics, even though it
isn't. Anyone who has read more than a couple Buddhist books
knows:
Consensus "Buddhist ethics" does
not contradict leftish secular morality on any issue.
From this, one ought to conclude that "Buddhist ethics" is
not Buddhist at all. It just is leftish secular morality.
Calling it "Buddhist" does not make it so. Although most Buddhists know
the facts, no one draws the obvious conclusion. Why do Buddhists want to
pretend we have a distinctive "Buddhist ethics"?
No one notices the anomaly because no one takes "Buddhist ethics"
seriously as ethics. When you, a leftish Westerner, gradually
convert to Buddhism, "Buddhist ethics" never requires you to change your
moral actions or ethical thinking. That's very comfortable. You come to
trust, without noticing the general pattern, that "Buddhist ethics" has
no force. It is always safe to ignore it in practice. However, it needs
to be referred to piously at ritually appropriate times.
So what is "Buddhist ethics" for?
This question is important, because Consensus Buddhism is roughly "meditation"
plus "ethics."
For the Consensus, "what is Buddhist ethics for?" is half of the
question "what is
Buddhism for?".
A non-Buddhist is more likely to put it differently: "Why are you a
Buddhist?" That's a question worth pondering.
They wouldn't ask that unless you said you were a Buddhist.
So, why do you say you are a Buddhist? (Or "are into Buddhism,"
or "practice Buddhism.")
That's another interestingly different question. I think it contains
the seed of the answer to "what is ‘Buddhist ethics' for?".
Brad Warner, my
favorite Zen teacher, recently blogged about
why people in small American towns say they are Christians:
Saying you're a Christian in Foley, Alabama may not necessarily mean
you're a Christian as opposed to a Buddhist or Jew or Muslim, etc.
Rather it may mean that you are attempting to align yourself with what
you see as the more ethical, thoughtful and just generally decent
members of your community rather than those elements who drink and curse
and fight and generally cause a lot of problems for everybody else.
Saying you're a Christian in places like this usually means, I think,
that you're trying to be one of the good guys.
To them, the only people who try to be decent are the Christians (or
whatever other religion they were raised among, but I'll stick with the
example I'm most familiar with). They have the experience that those who
proclaim themselves not to be Christian are often lawless and
unprincipled, disruptive to society, dangerous. To say you're not a
Christian is sort of like saying you don't believe in the law. That
could mean you're capable of all sorts of criminal behavior from
jaywalking right on up to murder and mayhem.
Saying you are a Christian in Berkeley, California1 has
a different effect. Some people there interpret "Christian" as
"homophobic racist who thinks corporations should be allowed to pollute
as much as they like, and poor people should just starve to death."
Let's rewrite Warner's explanation, for use in Berkeley:
Saying you are a Buddhist in Berkeley may not necessarily mean you're
a Buddhist as opposed to a feminist or New-Ager or anti-globalist, etc.
Rather it may mean that you are attempting to align yourself with what
you see as the more ethical, thoughtful and just generally decent
members of your community rather than those elements who discriminate
and exploit and harrass and generally cause a lot of problems for
everybody else. Saying you're a Buddhist in places like this usually
means, I think, that you're trying to be one of the good guys.
In other words, "Buddhist" in Berkeley means the same thing as
"Christian" in Foley. Most Foley Christians may be ignorant of basic
Christian doctrines, and rarely if ever go to church, but that's not the
point. Most Berkeley Buddhists may be ignorant of basic Buddhist
doctrines, and rarely if ever go to a meditation group, but that's not
the point. That's not what Buddhism is for. It's a way of saying
what sort of person you are. At least, that's one thing it is
for!
What is "I am a Buddhist" supposed to say about you? The rest of this
page suggests that it is a statement of allegiance to the monist-leftist
side of the American culture-war tribal split; it is a sign of moral
piety; it is a claim for high status within the middle class; and it
signifies particular personality traits such as openness and
agreeableness.
This used to work well, because it was a "costly signal."
However, the strategy's effectiveness has declined over time. Saying "I
am a Buddhist" may now be heard as "I'm cowardly, disorganized, boring,
and dumb."
We can do better than that. At the end of this page, I'll discuss
better approaches to Buddhism, to ethics, and to communicating what sort
of people we are.
People differ; and so we discriminate. We'd rather marry someone
generous and considerate than someone selfish and oblivious. We prefer
doctors who are knowledgeable and attentive to ones who are incompetent
and arrogant. We don't want to sleep with someone who "forgets" to
mention they are married and have active herpes, or buy a used car from
an acquaintance who has turned the odometer back.
In short, we would rather collaborate with good people than bad
people. However, the people we want to collaborate with are more likely
to cooperate if they think we're good people. So everyone goes around
saying "I'm good! I'm good!" a million times a day.
Except that it's really easy to say "I'm good!" even if you aren't.
Bad people go around saying "I'm good!" all day too. How do you know who
is telling the truth?
This is such a difficult and important problem that much of
everyone's day consists of trying to figure out whether other people are
good, and trying to convince them that you are. How?
Someone saying "I'm good!" is not credible because it's cheap and
easy. (So no one says that literally.) You are more likely to be
persuaded if you see them writing a check to a charitable organization,
or if they spend a weekend volunteering with you at a homeless shelter.
Those are costly signals—one in money, one in time.
Religion is
a costly signal. Going to church every Sunday wastes much of your
leisure time, and they want ten percent of your income. Meditation
retreats take a whole weekend at least; they're excruciatingly boring,
physically painful, the food is usually awful, and you aren't supposed
to get high or or play video games. In both religions you have to sit
through tiresome morality lectures and pretend to be nice to everyone.
These are credible signals. If you know someone is religious, you know
for sure something about them; no one would do those things
unless they had a compelling reason. But what is religion signaling?
Partly—this should be obvious now—religiosity signals that you are
ethical. That is mainly what Consensus "Buddhist ethics" was invented
for. But why does it work? Why would you believe that someone who wastes
a lot of time and money on religion is ethical, rather than stupid or
crazy?
Geoffrey Miller's Spent:
Sex, Evolution, and Consumer Behavior gave me considerable
insight into contemporary Buddhism. Mostly we buy and do things, he
writes, not for their inherent qualities, but for what they say about
us.
It may take some work to realize how pervasive this is; I recommend
the book highly. Once you see it, our compulsive signaling is both funny
and sad. It's funny because mostly we are unaware of it; we deliberately
blind ourselves to our own motives. It's sad because we choose what to
consume, and how we spend our time, in order to define what sort of
person we are—rather than to enjoy ourselves. Mostly, we don't even know
what we actually like! Signaling is a dystopian arms race. Conspicuous
waste (of time, attention, money, and physical resources) is one of its
main mechanisms.2 If we could somehow all agree to
stop, everyone could have better lives.
Miller's first example—now a bit dated—is Glacéau™ SmartWater™.
Drinking it signals healthiness, hipness, and sexiness. But it's just
distilled water with tiny amounts of three common minerals added.
There's nothing about the contents of the bottle that is healthy, hip,
or sexual. The steep price tag is justified by branding.
Branding is what associates a product with the particular personal
qualities it signals. So how do you do that?
One way is with celebrity endorsement. SmartWater "is advertised with
the image of a nearly nude Jennifer Aniston."3 Does this make anyone believe
SmartWater™ is "a magical intelligence-boosting elixir from the French
Alps"?4 I doubt it. What does she know about
health? Maybe some people are dumb enough to think SmartWater™ is
something more than ordinary water, but that's not the point. As a
signal, it would work just as well if no one believed that.
Why? Because it's expensive, and because everyone knows
that everyone else knows that it signals healthiness, hipness,
and sexiness. So everyone knows what it is meant to signal, and that it
is a costly signal of that. And how does everyone know
that?
Advertising. The point of most advertising is not to
convince you a product is functionally superior. It is to inform you
which unrelated, personal qualities the product signals. And why do you
have to see the advertisement a dozen times before you buy? Because you
need to be convinced that everyone
else has seen it, so they know what your buying the product is
supposed to mean.
Anyone can buy SmartWater™, even diabetic, clueless, ugly people. So
even if we all know it's meant to signal healthiness, hipness,
and sexiness, why would anyone think you are healthy, hip, and
sexy if they see you drinking it?
The stuff is expensive enough that for most people it forces
trade-offs. If you drink SmartWater™, you must spend less on something
else. This makes SmartWater™ a credible public display of your
priorities. We know that you are making a significant effort to be seen
as healthy, hip, and sexy, rather than (say) comfort-loving, reliable,
and caring. Your attempt is only likely to work if you
actually are at least somewhat healthy, hip, and sexy—because
there's lots of other ways we can check. So unless you are an idiot
pursuing an obviously doomed strategy, the costliness of your effort
makes the signal at least somewhat reliable.
And, of course, SmartWater™ is not your only signal. It works only as
part of a lifestyle: a comprehensive package of
healthiness-hipness-sexiness signals. Taken as a whole, a lifestyle is
extremely expensive, and therefore a credible signal.
Um, yes, ... so, about Buddhist ethics.
The Dalai Lama, as everyone knows, is a saint, and his omnipresent
smiling face endorses Buddhism™, so it must be highly ethical. How do
you know he is a saint? What, specifically, has he done that is
unusually ethical? (I hope you find it a bit uncomfortable that you
can't answer this question.) We know he is a saint because he's the
official spokesperson for Buddhism™, which is
an especially ethical religion. And we know it's an especially
ethical religion because he endorses it. Isn't that interesting?
No one cares what the Dalai Lama actually
says or thinks or does about ethics. (Which is why no one knows, and
why you
can get away with "quoting" him saying whatever vapid moralizing
nonsense you like.) What matters is that everyone knows
that everyone else knows he's a symbol of ethicalness.
(Everyone knows that because of a highly effective co-branding
campaign he and the Consensus ran in the 1990s.) So by mentioning
him reverentially, you can signal that you are at least trying to be
perceived as ethical.
And, by saying "I am into Buddhism," you at least "align yourself
with what you see as the more ethical, thoughtful and just generally
decent members of your community."
But, talk is pretty cheap. To make your signal credible, you need to
buy a whole lifestyle package. You need an ideology. To quote
Miller:
Each individual's ideology (religious, political, and philosophical
beliefs) can be viewed as his ad campaign—designed not to convey
verifiable news about the world, but to create positive emotional
associations between the individual as product and the customer's
aesthetic, social, and moral aspirations. (p. 30)
Signaling tribal commitment
The Baby Boomer countercultures split the American middle class into
two hostile tribes. Members of both considered anyone in the other
tribe inherently immoral. With us, or against us! To be
minimally acceptable as a human being, you had to demonstrate commitment
to the correct side.
To count as a member in good standing of the monist ("left") tribe,
you needed to have the correct opinion about hundreds of issues. You had
to like tofu, Bob Dylan, Cesar Chavez, and Tom Robbins, and to hate
nuclear power, Dolly Parton, Ronald Reagan, and the Moral Majority.
Checking to see whether someone had all the right opinions would be
hugely time-consuming. This is what "badges" are for.5 A
badge is a low cost, easily communicated signal that stands for a group
of valued traits. In the '60s and '70s, hair length was a reliable
badge. If you were a guy with long hair, you definitely liked tofu (or
pretended to), and if you had a crew cut, you hated it (or were careful
never to try it because that's sissy food). This was highly efficient
and a Good Thing. Then, in the '80s, rural working-class heavy metal
fans grew long hair, and that screwed everything up for everyone
else.
"I'm a Buddhist" was widely adopted as a replacement badge. If you
"were a Buddhist," you definitely liked Bob Dylan and hated Dolly
Parton, and so on for everything on the list. You didn't necessarily
know or care much about Buddhism, but that wasn't the point.
Badges are reliable only if they are "policed."6 If
insufficiently green people tried to make themselves acceptable by
passing themselves off as Buddhists, but weren't
actually committed, the badge wouldn't work. So, much of what
goes on at Buddhist events is badge-checking. The badge police quiz you
about all your opinions; if you admit to watching a UFC championship, or
thinking of your brother in the military as a hero, or voting for a
Republican, you are kicked out.7
Signaling moral piety
One main reason Christians go to church is to signal their moralness.
Almost all Americans were nominally Christian until the Boomer
generation. The hippie/green/monist/left tribe mostly rejected
Christianity, which created a new problem: how to signal moralness, if
not by going to church?
Religion has many functions, so there were many reasons the tribe
needed a replacement. In the 1970s, "spiritual experience" was the
driver for American Buddhism and other new religious movements. In the
1980s, though, signaling moral piety also became important. The problem
was, 1970s American Buddhism had nothing
much to say about ethics.
Let's go back to SmartWater™ for a moment. It was an astonishing
branding accomplishment: nothing about it had anything to do
with what it signaled. However, that made the product vulnerable to
moral entrepreneurs, who developed a moral marketing campaign pointing
out that it's just water8 and that its disposable
bottles kill sea otters and give you diabetes.
VitaminWater™, a line
extension of SmartWater™, solved that problem. It has vitamins
added, so it's not just water.
Mind you, everyone knows that for a penny or two you can get a pill
with more vitamins in it. So nobody drinks VitaminWater™ because they
think it's healthy.9 Its function is the same as
SmartWater™—signaling.
Consensus "Buddhist ethics" was invented in the 1980s to give
Buddhism a moral signaling function. It's got hardly any ethics in it,
and everyone knows that the ethics it does have are exactly the same as
you can get anywhere else. No one actually buys Buddhism™ to get the
ethics inside. They buy it because it's an effective signal of
commitment to being seen as moral. It's effective because it's
expensive and because everyone knows it's supposed to be ethical.
Whether or not it is ethical is just as irrelevant as whether or not
VitaminWater™ is healthy. It's a strategy for showing respect for social
norms and stability, while not actually signing up to do anything
specific or difficult.
That commitment signals not only to other people, but also to
yourself. In an era of ethical ambiguity, many people worry "Am I
ethical enough? How ethical should I be? How do I know what would count
as adequately ethical?" A costly investment in a supposedly-ethical
system is a way of reassuring yourself that you are making a serious
effort. Of course, for this to work, the system needs to contain at
least homeopathic quantities of ethical ingredients.
A related function of "Buddhist ethics" is to provide an illusion of
extra justification for what is, actually, mainstream secular ethics. A
major problem with secular ethics is groundlessness. It can't
say why anything is right or wrong (despite best efforts by
secular moral philosophers). This makes secularists secretly uneasy.
Traditional religious morality was backed by stories, at least; they may
have been silly, but they did provide some comfort. "Buddhist ethics" is
designed to give the vague sense that somehow somewhere there's some
convincing magical and/or rational Buddhist justification for secular
ethical beliefs.
Signaling class
The American social class system is a taboo topic; so I have to point
out some basic facts that everyone knows but are rarely stated
explicitly.
Social class is not economic class. Many working class people make
more than a hundred thousand dollars a year; many upper-middle class
people make less than thirty. Income and social class correlate
statistically, and are also causally coupled, but only loosely. Social
class is determined by personal mental characteristics, not by anything
external such as possessions or employment (although those do function
as class signals).
The middle class is a competitive ladder, or a series of
progressively smaller, more exclusive circles: social clubs. The ladder
is created by the upper middle class, for the benefit of the upper
middle class. The border between the middle-middle and upper middle
class is the most stringently defended of any in the system. Although
upper middle class people compete with each other, they cooperate
against the middle-middle and below.
Social class is largely a matter of "values": attitudes, tastes, and
opinions. What you like (or say you like) defines your class. Roughly
speaking:
To be lower middle class, you only need to have the right general
attitudes, which is easy because there's only a handful. The most
important is wanting to move up within the middle class. To do
that, you know you need to be "respectable."
To be middle-middle class, you need to have all the correct
opinions. (You are allowed to choose the leftish set of opinions or the
rightish one, of course.) This requires memorizing endless lists of
taboos and shibboleths, which is a conspicuous waste of time. "The news"
and the political internet are tools for this. The high cost of keeping
track of all that meaningless noise, and the ease of verifying it by
asking your opinion of last night's synthetic outrage event, makes it an
effective signal.
To be upper middle class, you need to be able to figure out, on the
fly, what would be the correct opinion about things that are new to you.
This requires conceptual sophistication: years of study not only of
details, but also of ways to think. That is what a liberal arts
education used to be for.10
Some of the criteria for the upper middle class are just arbitrary
shibboleths invented to keep the club small. But if you admit only a few
people, why not the best? The upper middle class selects for valuable
allies—the sorts of people they want on a business team, or who would be
a good parent for their children. Some traits they look for are
intelligence, adaptability, diligence, social skills, ability to defer
gratification, and ability to stay cool under pressure.
Everyone in the middle class wants to move up, so everyone wants to
develop these qualities. That is difficult, so second best is to find
ways to signal having more of the qualities than you actually possess.
This leads to an arms race of faking vs. detecting. The elaborate tests
devised by the upper-middle class are relatively, not perfectly,
reliable. As the middle-middle class figures out how to pass a specific
upper middle class test, it loses its value. The test then moves down,
and becomes a test of middle-middle classness (and screens out the lower
middle class). Eventually the lower middle figures it out too, and it
loses all its value. In the meantime, the upper middle class has to keep
inventing new criteria.11
Some American middle-class values are specifically Protestant.12 Secularized versions of Protestant
morality are now the code of public decorum for the American middle
class (left and right). That is, to be middle class in America, you need
to demonstrate that you can conform to Protestant values when ritually
required to do so.13
One important function of Consensus Buddhism is training in how to
act middle class. It both has methods for developing some of the general
traits, and also teaches how conform to some specifics of the code of
public propriety. This is the reason the Consensus appeals only to the
middle class. (The working class and upper class both think these values
are ridiculous.)
Up through the 1960s, white American Buddhism was upper middle class.
There wasn't any white American Theravada yet, and Tibetan Buddhism
hadn't arrived. Zen was the thing. The Zen of the day was an Orientalist
version of Episcopalianism (an upper middle class sect):14 intellectually pretentious and
emotionally repressed, with no beliefs to speak of, an austere
aesthetic, and just the right amount of grim ritual.
Why did this successfully signal upper middle
classness? Intelligence: the few available books were dry and
academic. Zen was supposedly paradoxical, and making any sense of it was
famously difficult. Its rituals required memorizing and paying precise
attention to details. Adaptability: Zen, at the time, required
you to accept a lot of alien Japanese
culture. Diligence and ability to defer gratification:
meditation is boring and painful; a test of
stick-to-it-ive-ness. Ability to stay cool under pressure:
meditation is training in not expressing emotions. Equanimity is hugely
valuable in a tense boardroom negotiation. Social skills: an
exception—Zen practitioners were notoriously weak in this area!
Effective signals must be costly. Before the 1980s, calling yourself
a Buddhist would mostly provoke suspicion or hostility: a social cost.
It also required great effort to track down rare texts, to travel great
distances to meet teachers, and to struggle with alien, difficult ideas
and practices.
During the '80s and '90s, user-friendly presentations and widespread
availability dramatically lowered Buddhism's cost—and therefore its
signaling value. This popularization moved it down to the middle-middle
class. New books made Buddhism easier to understand. The Consensus
eliminated the fussy rituals and foreign cultural displays. Its very
popularity made it useless as a signal of originality and risk-taking.
(Meditation, however, remains a trial!)
Signaling openness
Current personality theory considers "openness
to experience" a key trait. Miller describes it as "curiosity,
novelty seeking, broad-mindedness, interest in culture, ideas, and
aesthetics. Openness predicts emotional sensitivity, social tolerance,
and political liberalism. People high on openness tend to seek
complexity and novelty, readily accept changes and innovations, and
prefer grand new visions to mundane, predictable ruts." (p. 146)
The 1960s counterculture had unprecedentedly high levels of
openness.15 Traditional religions
signaled low openness, i.e. "squareness"; one of many reasons
the hippies had to create new ones.
Buddhism signals low openness in Asia—it's mostly profoundly
conservative—but in the West, Buddhism was a signal of high openness,
simply because it was unfamiliar. If you are a Western Buddhist, it's
likely you think of yourself as having most of the characteristics
Miller describes. If you became a Western Buddhist before about 1990,
you probably actually do. Or did.
As Buddhism became more familiar, as its sharp edges and spiky bits
were smoothed out by well-meaning Consensus innovators, as more and more
of the alien Asian elements were replaced with comfortable Western ones,
as its complex concepts were replaced with simpler ones in the name of
accessibility, as its practices were rendered emotionally safe—it ceased
to function as an effective signal of openness. Buddhism became about as
radical as The Gap clothing chain (which originally marketed to hippies
but now sells mid-range clothes to middle-aged middle-middle class
middle Americans). If you actually have high openness, Consensus
Buddhism is utterly unappealing.
I think many people continue with Consensus Buddhism because they
want to seem open to experience, and haven't noticed it no
longer signals that. Consensus Buddhists want to be seen as liberal,
cultured, curious, and tolerant. My observation is that, on average,
they are the exact opposites.16 Consensus Buddhism now
comfortably confirms status-quo social reality.
Buddhism: badge of blandness
For the upper middle class, it's important to have some unusual,
vigorous opinions and tastes; this is a test. The ability to cogently
defend your originality demonstrates intelligence, independence, and
willingness to take calculated risks. As part of this test, you also
need to stay cool while someone insults your opinion, and to find a
humorous, non-hostile comeback. This demonstrates emotional stability.
Buddhism qualified as an esoteric, socially-risky activity in the '60s
and '70s, so it was useful as part of a portfolio of signals of
independent intelligence.
Conspicuous blandness—the absence of distinctive taste—is
typical of the middle middle class. If you know you cannot pass a test
of independent opinion, it's the next-best strategy. If you admit no
atypical passions, no one can needle you about them, so you can simulate
emotional stability. Also, in a situation where you aren't sure even
what the consensus opinion is, expressing none at all is safest.
Many people know it's higher status to have independent opinions, but
are incapable of developing any themselves. As a simulation, they yell
"racism is a moral cancer!" or "socialism is the road to serfdom!" in a
proud, confrontational way, as though these were not the most bland
opinions anyone could possibly adopt. (They were radical
opinions—in the 1960s—and somehow that reputation sticks to them in less
supple minds.)
Consensus Buddhism is now the blandest American religion. It's
thoroughly familiar, comfortable, safe; it doesn't require you to
believe or do anything in particular; everyone in the left tribe has
vaguely positive feelings about it, so you won't be ostracized.
Beyond that, it's training in how to be bland. Its ways of
talking, the social practices at gatherings, and the meditation
practices themselves all encourage "equanimity": blandness, absence of
strong emotions, abandoning likes and dislikes ("attachment and
aversion").
Signaling agreeableness
Agreeableness,
in current
personality theory, is "warmth, kindness, sympathy, empathy, trust,
compliance, modesty, benevolence, and peacefulness."17 (Maybe this list reminds you of
something...)
Agreeableness is a good thing (most of the time). In fact, it's
nearly the same as moral goodness (most of the time). We want friends,
coworkers, and spouses who are agreeable (most of the time), and
therefore we're all trying to signal high agreeableness (most of the
time).
If everyone were good, agreeableness would always be good. But life
includes some bad people:18 dishonest salesmen,
womanizers/sluts who try to seduce your spouse, coworker-psychopaths who
play devious office politics, and outright criminals. If everyone
reacted to bad people with trust, compliance, and peacefulness, they'd
grab everything and rape, kill, and eat everyone. So some of the time,
agreeableness is a bad thing. Assertiveness, power, domination,
hostility, and violence are sometimes good things.
Opposing bad guys is risky; they retaliate. Taking that risk is
heroic action on behalf of the community, and it ought to be rewarded.
It is rewarded: most of us would rather have, as friends,
coworkers, and spouses, people who will stand up for what's right in the
face of wrong-doing. Ideally, we want allies who are consistently
agreeable to our in-group, and effective in supporting us; and
consistently hostile to our out-group, and effective at opposing them.
This is difficult, and no one will do it for us all the time.
Some people who know they are incapable of skilled, situationally
appropriate hostility adopt a second-best strategy: to be highly
agreeable in all situations. This eliminates the risk of
retaliation.
Consistently agreeable people are seen as cowardly, weak, and maybe
stupid by the majority. They are free riders who gain the benefits of
others' protection of society while avoiding retaliation risk
themselves. They are pleasant to be around most of the time, but you
know they will be useless in a crisis.
Agreeableness increases the risk of predation by bad guys, so
highly-agreeable people try to form closed communities in which everyone
can be nice to each other. Consensus Buddhism, obviously, is one of those. This
works up to a point, but such communities are easy pickings for
psychopaths. This is the pattern of Buddhist sex scandals: it usually
turns out that many people knew, for many years, what was going on, but
no one was willing to take a firm stand against the perpetrator.
If you are a highly agreeable person, it pays to advertise it. You
want to find other highly agreeable people to hang out and be nice with.
And you want bad guys to know you aren't going to oppose them,
in hopes you won't attract their attention, and they'll leave you
alone.
One main function of ideologies is to advertise your level of
agreeableness. Highly agreeable ideologies include Consensus Buddhism,
Mormonism, and socialism. If you are highly disagreeable—your
best strategy if you aren't good at cooperation—it pays to advertise
that, too. Radical feminism, the Westboro Baptists, and Neoreaction
signal broad disagreeableness.
Consensus Buddhism is not only a signal of high
agreeableness; it's a way of developing the trait itself.
Many services are also marketed as amplifiers of agreeableness. These
usually teach "etiquette," that is, how to emulate the tacit social
norms of the local ruling class. Such norms usually require practicing
superhuman levels of patience, discretion, generosity, and sympathy; the
implicit goal is to demonstrate that one's prefrontal cortex can
maintain tight inhibitory control over selfish or impulsive behaviors.
It has always been crucial for ruling-class youth to acquire such
conspicuous agreeableness indicators, so they can evaluate one another's
capacity for peaceful and efficient cooperation, which is vital to the
smooth operation of the various conspiracies that secure their wealth
and power, such as feudal aristocracies, organized religions, trade
guilds, parliaments, and media conglomerates. Traditionally, Europeans
bought etiquette training at boarding schools, universities, and
finishing schools. (Miller, pp. 241-2)
Such elite institutions are mainly open only to the upper-middle and
upper classes. Consensus Buddhism functions as a cut-price version:
training in the leftish middle class public code of decorum.
Agreeableness is particularly valued during courtship.19 Especially among the left tribe,
passionate statements of commitment to agreeable ideologies are an
essential part of the mating ritual. (See Miller, pp. 246-9, for funny
and insightful examples and analysis.) In certain circles, "I'm a
Buddhist" is a powerful claim to romantic attractiveness. (And some
Buddhist events can be highly efficient singles markets!)
"Superhuman" levels of agreeableness signal high status when
agreeableness is called for. Showing high agreeableness in conflict
situations marks you as a loser.
Buddhism is for losers
At the beginning of this page, I asked: "What is ‘Buddhist ethics'
for?" My answer has been that it's a strategy for advertising yourself
as a "good" person—good to work with, hang out with, or have children
with. I've explained why this strategy worked. I say "worked," because
it no longer does. Various trends I described have progressively lowered
Western Buddhism's signaling value. "Buddhist ethics" isn't fooling
anyone anymore; everyone understands, implicitly, that there's no such
thing. Buddhism isn't daring and sexy and hip anymore; it's your batty
aunt's quaint, harmless, old-fashioned hobby. And it has gone from an
upper middle class religion to a middle-middle one, and now probably a
lower middle one.20
Lower middle class people are not losers! There is nothing wrong with
lower middle class Buddhism. In fact, the Aro gTér lineage, which I
practiced for more than a decade, was almost entirely working class in
the 1980s, and is still mainly working and lower middle class. I myself
am working class by some criteria, and lower middle by some others.
There is nothing wrong with comfortable, simplified, status-quo
Buddhism, either! The Consensus impulse to create that was
well-motivated and useful. I would like to see different Buddhisms
available for all sorts of different people.
By "Buddhism is for losers" I mean that, at this point, saying you
are a Buddhist is likely to signal that you are loser in the
eyes of many people who, a couple decades ago, would have been
impressed. For them, "Buddhist" now means "well-intentioned but
ineffectual"; someone who can't get their stuff together enough to do
anything significant or interesting.
What's dysfunctional is using Buddhism to signal high status if
that doesn't work. That is definitely a loser's strategy. It was
bad enough that Consensus Buddhism was mostly empty posturing. Empty
posturing that doesn't fool anyone is totally pointless.
We can do better
We can do better at Buddhism, at ethics, and at signaling.
Possibly we can do better at Buddhist ethics, too. If a
genuinely Buddhist ethics were possible, that would at least be
intellectually fascinating. As a Buddhist, I'd hope it could also solve
problems current secular ethics fails at. I think a comprehensive
contemporary Buddhist ethics is probably impossible. However, in several
upcoming pages I'll suggest ways Buddhism may at least contribute to a
sophisticated contemporary ethics.
Suggesting that we can do better at Buddhism, and how, is the overall
goal of this blog. Much of what I have done so far may seem unpleasantly
disagreeable. I've suggested that modernist American Buddhism was
dominated for two decades by a single narrow school (the "Consensus")
which had value in its time, but no longer meets current needs. My
intention, in being disagreeable, is to clear space for alternatives.
I've begun to sketch one alternative,
but it certainly should not be the alternative. We can and
should have many new Buddhisms that are suitable for different people,
and that are better at addressing their needs for meaning than the
Consensus now is.
We can do better at ethics. In an upcoming post, I'll consider
"Buddhist ethics" in terms of adult developmental psychology. I'll
suggest that "Buddhist ethics" is an adolescent morality which may
actively impede some Buddhists' personal growth. Moral developmental
psychology explains more sophisticated ethical approaches. It explains
how, as individuals, we can grow into them; and how institutions and
ideologies can support individuals in that growth. These insights could
influence the design of innovative Buddhist paths that guide students
toward moral maturity and broad
competence in dealing with life challenges. Elsewhere, I am also
developing an approach to
contemporary ethics that I find promising, and that is indirectly
influenced by Dzogchen.
We can do better at signaling. It's tempting to say "we should all
stop doing that, stop pretending, just be as we are"; but that's
impossible. Signaling is fundamental to the human way of being. "Being
as we are" includes it. Also, it's not a zero-sum competition; it is a
net positive. Similar people enjoy each others' company, and getting
accurate information about other people's personalities allows us to
form like-minded communities. For example, high-openness people can get
together and enjoy discussing cannibalism, necrophilia, and black magic,
so I signal my high openness by writing Buddhism for Vampires.
Meanwhile, low-openness people can get together and enjoy discussing
compassion, healing, and mindfulness. I'm sure you know where to find
that!
For Buddhists, better signaling means being more specific about what
sort of Buddhist you are—which could say a lot about what sort of person
you are in general. Before the Consensus homogenized all of
Buddhism into uniform blandness, saying that you practiced Zen or
Theravada might have conveyed more information than it does now. I hope
in future that many highly distinctive Western Buddhisms will emerge.
Declaring allegiance to one will make it quite clear what sort of person
you are. This may enable Buddhist subcultures to function as highly
supportive, close-knit communities for the particular kinds of people
they attract.21 (See also my "Inclusion,
exclusion, unity and diversity" on this point.)
More broadly, signals are somewhat arbitrary—who would have thought
water bottles could signal sex?—and choosing the right ones has a huge
impact on the quality of a society. Signaling motivates the worst things
humans do. Rulers fight wars of conquest less to grab material goodies
than to signal personal dominance. Signaling also motivates the best
things humans do. Artistic creation is meant to signal intelligence and
openness. Altruistic acts signal agreeability and tribal loyalty.
The Renaissance began when a handful of powerful men in Tuscany
agreed to compete with each other by seeing who could commission the
most glorious artworks, instead of whose army could slaughter the most
people. As individuals and as societies, we do have some choice about
which signals to use. Understanding that most of what we do is
signaling helps us see that we have choices. In any given situation, is
there a different way I could signal the same personal quality, whose
side-effects would be better for me and/or others? Can we eliminate
state subsidies for negative-value signaling activities, and perhaps
even encourage positive-value ones?22
The Industrial Revolution led to conspicuous consumption and
conspicuous waste as major signaling methods. Consumption is great if
you actually enjoy it,23 but if you are consuming mainly to
signal, you'd probably get more enjoyment from something else. And,
there's nothing good to be said for conspicuous waste. Recently,
awareness of this has driven the development of conspicuously
ethical consumption: products advertised as "fair trade" and
eco-friendly. Miller applauds this (p. 324), but I am skeptical. Most
such products do not seem to be better in the ways they claim. So far,
there has been a near-complete failure of badge policing. The
certification organizations supposedly devoted to this are thoroughly
corrupt and have altogether other agendas. Individuals who buy "fair
trade" products just want to signal; they don't actually care whether it
benefits poor people thousands of miles away, so they don't bother to
check. Still, the approach is promising in principle.
The changing structure of the global economy, shifting away from
industrial production and rendering most middle class careers obsolete,
will force major changes in signal strategies anyway. Miller writes
(p. 305):
Something will soon replace the current system of consumerist
capitalism and its key features: credentialism, workaholism, conspicuous
consumption, single-family housing, fragmented kin and social networks,
weak social norms, narrowly economic definitions of social progress and
national status, and indirect democracy distorted by corporate interests
and media conglomerates. These seemingly natural features of
contemporary society will seem as alien to our great-grandchildren as
mammoth hunting, field plowing, and typewriting seem to us now.
The middle class values that worked well during the industrial era
are now obsolete. It's widely predicted that the Western middle class
will be automated out of existence over the next few decades. Signaling
allegiance to middle class values is a becoming a loser's game.
Middle class Buddhism has outlived its usefulness. Can we develop new
Buddhisms that point out ways to escape the middle class into more
satisfactory ways of living?24
Note for non-American readers: Berkeley is probably the
furthest-left town, politically, in America.↩︎
Miller, p. 43. Actually, it's manufactured by the
Coca-Cola Company in Hillside, New Jersey—which is a mile west of Newark
Airport—and other unromantic places.↩︎
This is because Buddhism is commited
to inclusivity and accepts everyone. So long as they have the
correct opinions about all topics.↩︎
It does taste surprisingly good. Yes, I've bought it. By
the way, have I told you about how healthy, hip, and sexy I am?↩︎
Or maybe some people are so dumb it doesn't
occur to them to think "I could take a vitamin pill instead, and save a
buck fifty per bottle." But VitaminWater™ would work just as well as a
signal even if no one were that dumb.↩︎
It was also a wonderfully conspicuous waste, since it
is costly and useless as preparation for any sort of productive job.
Changes in the higher education funding system opened the liberal arts
to the lower middle class, so now tens of millions of people have
expensive educations that are useless both practically and as a class
signal. This is a disaster for both individuals and society. (A liberal
arts education can be valuable in other ways—but that's outside the
scope of this post!)↩︎
An interesting specific example is musical taste. Up
until the 1970s, to be upper middle class, you had to like classical
music and dislike popular music. This worked because you could only
learn about classical music in college, and mostly only the upper middle
class went to college. It stopped working because the middle-middle
started going to college, and also because it was hard to deny that the
best rock music was as good as much of the classical repertoire. The new
criterion was liking only the correct sorts of rock, and being able to
explain what was correct about them. This eventually got to be both too
easy and too geeky. So starting in the late 1990s, the new new
criterion was having eclectic tastes. You had to be able to say which
were the best performers in numerous genres, from alt-country to nu
metal to gabber. (Plus of course you still had to have something
intelligent to say about Monteverdi.)
See Let's
Talk About Love: Why Other People Have Such Bad Taste and "Changing Highbrow Taste: From
Snob to Omnivore."↩︎
Catholic cultures place much less value on diligence
and the abilities to defer gratification and suppress emotions. Max
Weber influentially argued in The
Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism that these were
keys to the development of the modern world.↩︎
Consider how people stereotypically behave at
Protestant funerals vs. Catholic wakes, for example.↩︎
"An Episcopalian is a Presbyterian with a trust fund. A
Presbyterian is a Methodist with a college education. And a Methodist is
a Baptist with shoes."↩︎
Miller has an extremely interesting theory about why
(p. 213) which, unfortunately, is too complicated to explain here. It
involves memetic parasites and the
function of disgust.↩︎
Another point. This is important, but I'm relegating it
to a footnote because this page is too damn long. Miller observes that
openness is valuable only when combined with high intelligence. If you
are smart enough to evaluate whether new ideas are good ones, being an
early adopter works in your favor. If not, openness results in your
adopting superficially attractive but harmful and wrong ideas. (A
relevant proverb: "You should have an open mind, but not so open that
your brain falls out.") Consensus Buddhism is infested with "woo":
pseudoscientific and supernatural nonsense. Some is traditional Buddhist
woo (which modernist Asian Buddhists tried to get rid of as early as the
1850s); much is Western woo. High-openness, low-intelligence people are
suckers for the stuff.↩︎
I'm using the phrase "bad people" somewhat humorously.
There are no entirely bad people (or entirely good people). However,
this simplification helps explain the logic of defector-punishing.↩︎
On average, women are more agreeable than men. On
average, agreeableness is more valued in women, and assertiveness in
men. This is probably the reason that Consensus Buddhism has been
progressively feminized. For an insightful analysis, see "Back
to Suffragette City?" by Nella Lou (a woman), based on a post by
Brooke Shedneck (another woman) that was also excellent but
unfortunately is no longer available. Nella Lou interprets the Hardcore
Dharma movement partly as a backlash; I think she's right. Feminization
probably contributes to Consensus Buddhism's progressively lower
perceived status (discussed in my next section). I strongly support the
existence of feminine and/or
feminist religions, but I wouldn't want Western Buddhism to be
available only in that form. I do see some danger of that
happening.↩︎
Meanwhile, ironically, Buddhism has recently become
the prestige religion among the Chinese elite. Perhaps even more
interestingly, a modernized form of Nyingma Tantra is considered the
highest-status version. That addresses new problems of
meaningness—nihilism, specifically—that rich, educated Chinese find
themselves facing rather suddenly.↩︎
Miller points out (pp. 297-301 and 305-307) that
American housing law is a major obstacle to the formation of close-knit
communities. Anti-discrimination regulations, created with the best of
intentions, have the unintended side-effect of making distinctive
subsocieties illegal. He makes an interesting a priori case
that this has been disastrous. I don't know how much empirical support
there may be for the thesis.↩︎
Miller has two chapters of proposals for government
actions that would shift signaling incentives. Many of them I don't
like, but they are at least interesting.↩︎
"Consumption is great if you enjoy it" is a Tantric
perspective that is contrary to Sutric Buddhism and to leftish secular
ethics (which derive from Puritanism). I'll touch on this briefly in an
upcoming post; I hope to write about it in detail at some point.↩︎
Stay tuned for discussion in an upcoming episode. See
also the conclusion to Miller's book, pp. 328-329.↩︎
David Chapman: “Ethics” is advertising
2015 Oct 5 See all postsDavid Chapman
satoshinakamotonetwork@proton.me
https://satoshinakamoto.network
By "ethics," in quotes, I mean talk about ethics, rather than what people actually do. This page explains "ethics" as signaling: personal advertisement. We all display "ethicalness" as a strategy for looking like attractive mates and coworkers, by signaling class status, tribal loyalty, and superior personality traits.
Although this post is part of a series on leftish "Buddhist ethics," most of it applies equally to all ethical posturing. As you read it, you can imagine the small adjustments required for Christian rightish "ethics," or for secular centrist "ethics."
People really, really want Buddhism to be about ethics, even though it isn't. Anyone who has read more than a couple Buddhist books knows:
From this, one ought to conclude that "Buddhist ethics" is not Buddhist at all. It just is leftish secular morality. Calling it "Buddhist" does not make it so. Although most Buddhists know the facts, no one draws the obvious conclusion. Why do Buddhists want to pretend we have a distinctive "Buddhist ethics"?
No one notices the anomaly because no one takes "Buddhist ethics" seriously as ethics. When you, a leftish Westerner, gradually convert to Buddhism, "Buddhist ethics" never requires you to change your moral actions or ethical thinking. That's very comfortable. You come to trust, without noticing the general pattern, that "Buddhist ethics" has no force. It is always safe to ignore it in practice. However, it needs to be referred to piously at ritually appropriate times.
So what is "Buddhist ethics" for?
This question is important, because Consensus Buddhism is roughly "meditation" plus "ethics." For the Consensus, "what is Buddhist ethics for?" is half of the question "what is Buddhism for?".
A non-Buddhist is more likely to put it differently: "Why are you a Buddhist?" That's a question worth pondering.
They wouldn't ask that unless you said you were a Buddhist. So, why do you say you are a Buddhist? (Or "are into Buddhism," or "practice Buddhism.")
That's another interestingly different question. I think it contains the seed of the answer to "what is ‘Buddhist ethics' for?".
Brad Warner, my favorite Zen teacher, recently blogged about why people in small American towns say they are Christians:
Saying you are a Christian in Berkeley, California1 has a different effect. Some people there interpret "Christian" as "homophobic racist who thinks corporations should be allowed to pollute as much as they like, and poor people should just starve to death."
Let's rewrite Warner's explanation, for use in Berkeley:
In other words, "Buddhist" in Berkeley means the same thing as "Christian" in Foley. Most Foley Christians may be ignorant of basic Christian doctrines, and rarely if ever go to church, but that's not the point. Most Berkeley Buddhists may be ignorant of basic Buddhist doctrines, and rarely if ever go to a meditation group, but that's not the point. That's not what Buddhism is for. It's a way of saying what sort of person you are. At least, that's one thing it is for!
What is "I am a Buddhist" supposed to say about you? The rest of this page suggests that it is a statement of allegiance to the monist-leftist side of the American culture-war tribal split; it is a sign of moral piety; it is a claim for high status within the middle class; and it signifies particular personality traits such as openness and agreeableness.
This used to work well, because it was a "costly signal." However, the strategy's effectiveness has declined over time. Saying "I am a Buddhist" may now be heard as "I'm cowardly, disorganized, boring, and dumb."
We can do better than that. At the end of this page, I'll discuss better approaches to Buddhism, to ethics, and to communicating what sort of people we are.
Costly signaling
In economics and in evolutionary biology, "saying what sort of person you are" is called signaling.
People differ; and so we discriminate. We'd rather marry someone generous and considerate than someone selfish and oblivious. We prefer doctors who are knowledgeable and attentive to ones who are incompetent and arrogant. We don't want to sleep with someone who "forgets" to mention they are married and have active herpes, or buy a used car from an acquaintance who has turned the odometer back.
In short, we would rather collaborate with good people than bad people. However, the people we want to collaborate with are more likely to cooperate if they think we're good people. So everyone goes around saying "I'm good! I'm good!" a million times a day.
Except that it's really easy to say "I'm good!" even if you aren't. Bad people go around saying "I'm good!" all day too. How do you know who is telling the truth?
This is such a difficult and important problem that much of everyone's day consists of trying to figure out whether other people are good, and trying to convince them that you are. How?
Someone saying "I'm good!" is not credible because it's cheap and easy. (So no one says that literally.) You are more likely to be persuaded if you see them writing a check to a charitable organization, or if they spend a weekend volunteering with you at a homeless shelter. Those are costly signals—one in money, one in time.
Religion is a costly signal. Going to church every Sunday wastes much of your leisure time, and they want ten percent of your income. Meditation retreats take a whole weekend at least; they're excruciatingly boring, physically painful, the food is usually awful, and you aren't supposed to get high or or play video games. In both religions you have to sit through tiresome morality lectures and pretend to be nice to everyone. These are credible signals. If you know someone is religious, you know for sure something about them; no one would do those things unless they had a compelling reason. But what is religion signaling?
Partly—this should be obvious now—religiosity signals that you are ethical. That is mainly what Consensus "Buddhist ethics" was invented for. But why does it work? Why would you believe that someone who wastes a lot of time and money on religion is ethical, rather than stupid or crazy?
Geoffrey Miller's Spent: Sex, Evolution, and Consumer Behavior gave me considerable insight into contemporary Buddhism. Mostly we buy and do things, he writes, not for their inherent qualities, but for what they say about us.
It may take some work to realize how pervasive this is; I recommend the book highly. Once you see it, our compulsive signaling is both funny and sad. It's funny because mostly we are unaware of it; we deliberately blind ourselves to our own motives. It's sad because we choose what to consume, and how we spend our time, in order to define what sort of person we are—rather than to enjoy ourselves. Mostly, we don't even know what we actually like! Signaling is a dystopian arms race. Conspicuous waste (of time, attention, money, and physical resources) is one of its main mechanisms.2 If we could somehow all agree to stop, everyone could have better lives.
Miller's first example—now a bit dated—is Glacéau™ SmartWater™. Drinking it signals healthiness, hipness, and sexiness. But it's just distilled water with tiny amounts of three common minerals added. There's nothing about the contents of the bottle that is healthy, hip, or sexual. The steep price tag is justified by branding. Branding is what associates a product with the particular personal qualities it signals. So how do you do that?
One way is with celebrity endorsement. SmartWater "is advertised with the image of a nearly nude Jennifer Aniston."3 Does this make anyone believe SmartWater™ is "a magical intelligence-boosting elixir from the French Alps"?4 I doubt it. What does she know about health? Maybe some people are dumb enough to think SmartWater™ is something more than ordinary water, but that's not the point. As a signal, it would work just as well if no one believed that.
Why? Because it's expensive, and because everyone knows that everyone else knows that it signals healthiness, hipness, and sexiness. So everyone knows what it is meant to signal, and that it is a costly signal of that. And how does everyone know that?
Advertising. The point of most advertising is not to convince you a product is functionally superior. It is to inform you which unrelated, personal qualities the product signals. And why do you have to see the advertisement a dozen times before you buy? Because you need to be convinced that everyone else has seen it, so they know what your buying the product is supposed to mean.
Anyone can buy SmartWater™, even diabetic, clueless, ugly people. So even if we all know it's meant to signal healthiness, hipness, and sexiness, why would anyone think you are healthy, hip, and sexy if they see you drinking it?
The stuff is expensive enough that for most people it forces trade-offs. If you drink SmartWater™, you must spend less on something else. This makes SmartWater™ a credible public display of your priorities. We know that you are making a significant effort to be seen as healthy, hip, and sexy, rather than (say) comfort-loving, reliable, and caring. Your attempt is only likely to work if you actually are at least somewhat healthy, hip, and sexy—because there's lots of other ways we can check. So unless you are an idiot pursuing an obviously doomed strategy, the costliness of your effort makes the signal at least somewhat reliable.
And, of course, SmartWater™ is not your only signal. It works only as part of a lifestyle: a comprehensive package of healthiness-hipness-sexiness signals. Taken as a whole, a lifestyle is extremely expensive, and therefore a credible signal.
Um, yes, ... so, about Buddhist ethics.
The Dalai Lama, as everyone knows, is a saint, and his omnipresent smiling face endorses Buddhism™, so it must be highly ethical. How do you know he is a saint? What, specifically, has he done that is unusually ethical? (I hope you find it a bit uncomfortable that you can't answer this question.) We know he is a saint because he's the official spokesperson for Buddhism™, which is an especially ethical religion. And we know it's an especially ethical religion because he endorses it. Isn't that interesting?
No one cares what the Dalai Lama actually says or thinks or does about ethics. (Which is why no one knows, and why you can get away with "quoting" him saying whatever vapid moralizing nonsense you like.) What matters is that everyone knows that everyone else knows he's a symbol of ethicalness. (Everyone knows that because of a highly effective co-branding campaign he and the Consensus ran in the 1990s.) So by mentioning him reverentially, you can signal that you are at least trying to be perceived as ethical.
And, by saying "I am into Buddhism," you at least "align yourself with what you see as the more ethical, thoughtful and just generally decent members of your community."
But, talk is pretty cheap. To make your signal credible, you need to buy a whole lifestyle package. You need an ideology. To quote Miller:
Signaling tribal commitment
The Baby Boomer countercultures split the American middle class into two hostile tribes. Members of both considered anyone in the other tribe inherently immoral. With us, or against us! To be minimally acceptable as a human being, you had to demonstrate commitment to the correct side.
To count as a member in good standing of the monist ("left") tribe, you needed to have the correct opinion about hundreds of issues. You had to like tofu, Bob Dylan, Cesar Chavez, and Tom Robbins, and to hate nuclear power, Dolly Parton, Ronald Reagan, and the Moral Majority.
Checking to see whether someone had all the right opinions would be hugely time-consuming. This is what "badges" are for.5 A badge is a low cost, easily communicated signal that stands for a group of valued traits. In the '60s and '70s, hair length was a reliable badge. If you were a guy with long hair, you definitely liked tofu (or pretended to), and if you had a crew cut, you hated it (or were careful never to try it because that's sissy food). This was highly efficient and a Good Thing. Then, in the '80s, rural working-class heavy metal fans grew long hair, and that screwed everything up for everyone else.
"I'm a Buddhist" was widely adopted as a replacement badge. If you "were a Buddhist," you definitely liked Bob Dylan and hated Dolly Parton, and so on for everything on the list. You didn't necessarily know or care much about Buddhism, but that wasn't the point.
Badges are reliable only if they are "policed."6 If insufficiently green people tried to make themselves acceptable by passing themselves off as Buddhists, but weren't actually committed, the badge wouldn't work. So, much of what goes on at Buddhist events is badge-checking. The badge police quiz you about all your opinions; if you admit to watching a UFC championship, or thinking of your brother in the military as a hero, or voting for a Republican, you are kicked out.7
Signaling moral piety
One main reason Christians go to church is to signal their moralness. Almost all Americans were nominally Christian until the Boomer generation. The hippie/green/monist/left tribe mostly rejected Christianity, which created a new problem: how to signal moralness, if not by going to church?
Religion has many functions, so there were many reasons the tribe needed a replacement. In the 1970s, "spiritual experience" was the driver for American Buddhism and other new religious movements. In the 1980s, though, signaling moral piety also became important. The problem was, 1970s American Buddhism had nothing much to say about ethics.
Let's go back to SmartWater™ for a moment. It was an astonishing branding accomplishment: nothing about it had anything to do with what it signaled. However, that made the product vulnerable to moral entrepreneurs, who developed a moral marketing campaign pointing out that it's just water8 and that its disposable bottles kill sea otters and give you diabetes.
VitaminWater™, a line extension of SmartWater™, solved that problem. It has vitamins added, so it's not just water.
Mind you, everyone knows that for a penny or two you can get a pill with more vitamins in it. So nobody drinks VitaminWater™ because they think it's healthy.9 Its function is the same as SmartWater™—signaling.
Consensus "Buddhist ethics" was invented in the 1980s to give Buddhism a moral signaling function. It's got hardly any ethics in it, and everyone knows that the ethics it does have are exactly the same as you can get anywhere else. No one actually buys Buddhism™ to get the ethics inside. They buy it because it's an effective signal of commitment to being seen as moral. It's effective because it's expensive and because everyone knows it's supposed to be ethical. Whether or not it is ethical is just as irrelevant as whether or not VitaminWater™ is healthy. It's a strategy for showing respect for social norms and stability, while not actually signing up to do anything specific or difficult.
That commitment signals not only to other people, but also to yourself. In an era of ethical ambiguity, many people worry "Am I ethical enough? How ethical should I be? How do I know what would count as adequately ethical?" A costly investment in a supposedly-ethical system is a way of reassuring yourself that you are making a serious effort. Of course, for this to work, the system needs to contain at least homeopathic quantities of ethical ingredients.
A related function of "Buddhist ethics" is to provide an illusion of extra justification for what is, actually, mainstream secular ethics. A major problem with secular ethics is groundlessness. It can't say why anything is right or wrong (despite best efforts by secular moral philosophers). This makes secularists secretly uneasy. Traditional religious morality was backed by stories, at least; they may have been silly, but they did provide some comfort. "Buddhist ethics" is designed to give the vague sense that somehow somewhere there's some convincing magical and/or rational Buddhist justification for secular ethical beliefs.
Signaling class
The American social class system is a taboo topic; so I have to point out some basic facts that everyone knows but are rarely stated explicitly.
Social class is not economic class. Many working class people make more than a hundred thousand dollars a year; many upper-middle class people make less than thirty. Income and social class correlate statistically, and are also causally coupled, but only loosely. Social class is determined by personal mental characteristics, not by anything external such as possessions or employment (although those do function as class signals).
The middle class is a competitive ladder, or a series of progressively smaller, more exclusive circles: social clubs. The ladder is created by the upper middle class, for the benefit of the upper middle class. The border between the middle-middle and upper middle class is the most stringently defended of any in the system. Although upper middle class people compete with each other, they cooperate against the middle-middle and below.
Social class is largely a matter of "values": attitudes, tastes, and opinions. What you like (or say you like) defines your class. Roughly speaking:
Some of the criteria for the upper middle class are just arbitrary shibboleths invented to keep the club small. But if you admit only a few people, why not the best? The upper middle class selects for valuable allies—the sorts of people they want on a business team, or who would be a good parent for their children. Some traits they look for are intelligence, adaptability, diligence, social skills, ability to defer gratification, and ability to stay cool under pressure.
Everyone in the middle class wants to move up, so everyone wants to develop these qualities. That is difficult, so second best is to find ways to signal having more of the qualities than you actually possess. This leads to an arms race of faking vs. detecting. The elaborate tests devised by the upper-middle class are relatively, not perfectly, reliable. As the middle-middle class figures out how to pass a specific upper middle class test, it loses its value. The test then moves down, and becomes a test of middle-middle classness (and screens out the lower middle class). Eventually the lower middle figures it out too, and it loses all its value. In the meantime, the upper middle class has to keep inventing new criteria.11
Some American middle-class values are specifically Protestant.12 Secularized versions of Protestant morality are now the code of public decorum for the American middle class (left and right). That is, to be middle class in America, you need to demonstrate that you can conform to Protestant values when ritually required to do so.13
One important function of Consensus Buddhism is training in how to act middle class. It both has methods for developing some of the general traits, and also teaches how conform to some specifics of the code of public propriety. This is the reason the Consensus appeals only to the middle class. (The working class and upper class both think these values are ridiculous.)
Up through the 1960s, white American Buddhism was upper middle class. There wasn't any white American Theravada yet, and Tibetan Buddhism hadn't arrived. Zen was the thing. The Zen of the day was an Orientalist version of Episcopalianism (an upper middle class sect):14 intellectually pretentious and emotionally repressed, with no beliefs to speak of, an austere aesthetic, and just the right amount of grim ritual.
Why did this successfully signal upper middle classness? Intelligence: the few available books were dry and academic. Zen was supposedly paradoxical, and making any sense of it was famously difficult. Its rituals required memorizing and paying precise attention to details. Adaptability: Zen, at the time, required you to accept a lot of alien Japanese culture. Diligence and ability to defer gratification: meditation is boring and painful; a test of stick-to-it-ive-ness. Ability to stay cool under pressure: meditation is training in not expressing emotions. Equanimity is hugely valuable in a tense boardroom negotiation. Social skills: an exception—Zen practitioners were notoriously weak in this area!
Effective signals must be costly. Before the 1980s, calling yourself a Buddhist would mostly provoke suspicion or hostility: a social cost. It also required great effort to track down rare texts, to travel great distances to meet teachers, and to struggle with alien, difficult ideas and practices.
During the '80s and '90s, user-friendly presentations and widespread availability dramatically lowered Buddhism's cost—and therefore its signaling value. This popularization moved it down to the middle-middle class. New books made Buddhism easier to understand. The Consensus eliminated the fussy rituals and foreign cultural displays. Its very popularity made it useless as a signal of originality and risk-taking. (Meditation, however, remains a trial!)
Signaling openness
Current personality theory considers "openness to experience" a key trait. Miller describes it as "curiosity, novelty seeking, broad-mindedness, interest in culture, ideas, and aesthetics. Openness predicts emotional sensitivity, social tolerance, and political liberalism. People high on openness tend to seek complexity and novelty, readily accept changes and innovations, and prefer grand new visions to mundane, predictable ruts." (p. 146)
The 1960s counterculture had unprecedentedly high levels of openness.15 Traditional religions signaled low openness, i.e. "squareness"; one of many reasons the hippies had to create new ones.
Buddhism signals low openness in Asia—it's mostly profoundly conservative—but in the West, Buddhism was a signal of high openness, simply because it was unfamiliar. If you are a Western Buddhist, it's likely you think of yourself as having most of the characteristics Miller describes. If you became a Western Buddhist before about 1990, you probably actually do. Or did.
As Buddhism became more familiar, as its sharp edges and spiky bits were smoothed out by well-meaning Consensus innovators, as more and more of the alien Asian elements were replaced with comfortable Western ones, as its complex concepts were replaced with simpler ones in the name of accessibility, as its practices were rendered emotionally safe—it ceased to function as an effective signal of openness. Buddhism became about as radical as The Gap clothing chain (which originally marketed to hippies but now sells mid-range clothes to middle-aged middle-middle class middle Americans). If you actually have high openness, Consensus Buddhism is utterly unappealing.
I think many people continue with Consensus Buddhism because they want to seem open to experience, and haven't noticed it no longer signals that. Consensus Buddhists want to be seen as liberal, cultured, curious, and tolerant. My observation is that, on average, they are the exact opposites.16 Consensus Buddhism now comfortably confirms status-quo social reality.
Buddhism: badge of blandness
For the upper middle class, it's important to have some unusual, vigorous opinions and tastes; this is a test. The ability to cogently defend your originality demonstrates intelligence, independence, and willingness to take calculated risks. As part of this test, you also need to stay cool while someone insults your opinion, and to find a humorous, non-hostile comeback. This demonstrates emotional stability. Buddhism qualified as an esoteric, socially-risky activity in the '60s and '70s, so it was useful as part of a portfolio of signals of independent intelligence.
Conspicuous blandness—the absence of distinctive taste—is typical of the middle middle class. If you know you cannot pass a test of independent opinion, it's the next-best strategy. If you admit no atypical passions, no one can needle you about them, so you can simulate emotional stability. Also, in a situation where you aren't sure even what the consensus opinion is, expressing none at all is safest.
Many people know it's higher status to have independent opinions, but are incapable of developing any themselves. As a simulation, they yell "racism is a moral cancer!" or "socialism is the road to serfdom!" in a proud, confrontational way, as though these were not the most bland opinions anyone could possibly adopt. (They were radical opinions—in the 1960s—and somehow that reputation sticks to them in less supple minds.)
Consensus Buddhism is now the blandest American religion. It's thoroughly familiar, comfortable, safe; it doesn't require you to believe or do anything in particular; everyone in the left tribe has vaguely positive feelings about it, so you won't be ostracized.
Beyond that, it's training in how to be bland. Its ways of talking, the social practices at gatherings, and the meditation practices themselves all encourage "equanimity": blandness, absence of strong emotions, abandoning likes and dislikes ("attachment and aversion").
Signaling agreeableness
Agreeableness, in current personality theory, is "warmth, kindness, sympathy, empathy, trust, compliance, modesty, benevolence, and peacefulness."17 (Maybe this list reminds you of something...)
Agreeableness is a good thing (most of the time). In fact, it's nearly the same as moral goodness (most of the time). We want friends, coworkers, and spouses who are agreeable (most of the time), and therefore we're all trying to signal high agreeableness (most of the time).
If everyone were good, agreeableness would always be good. But life includes some bad people:18 dishonest salesmen, womanizers/sluts who try to seduce your spouse, coworker-psychopaths who play devious office politics, and outright criminals. If everyone reacted to bad people with trust, compliance, and peacefulness, they'd grab everything and rape, kill, and eat everyone. So some of the time, agreeableness is a bad thing. Assertiveness, power, domination, hostility, and violence are sometimes good things.
Opposing bad guys is risky; they retaliate. Taking that risk is heroic action on behalf of the community, and it ought to be rewarded. It is rewarded: most of us would rather have, as friends, coworkers, and spouses, people who will stand up for what's right in the face of wrong-doing. Ideally, we want allies who are consistently agreeable to our in-group, and effective in supporting us; and consistently hostile to our out-group, and effective at opposing them. This is difficult, and no one will do it for us all the time.
Some people who know they are incapable of skilled, situationally appropriate hostility adopt a second-best strategy: to be highly agreeable in all situations. This eliminates the risk of retaliation.
Consistently agreeable people are seen as cowardly, weak, and maybe stupid by the majority. They are free riders who gain the benefits of others' protection of society while avoiding retaliation risk themselves. They are pleasant to be around most of the time, but you know they will be useless in a crisis.
Agreeableness increases the risk of predation by bad guys, so highly-agreeable people try to form closed communities in which everyone can be nice to each other. Consensus Buddhism, obviously, is one of those. This works up to a point, but such communities are easy pickings for psychopaths. This is the pattern of Buddhist sex scandals: it usually turns out that many people knew, for many years, what was going on, but no one was willing to take a firm stand against the perpetrator.
If you are a highly agreeable person, it pays to advertise it. You want to find other highly agreeable people to hang out and be nice with. And you want bad guys to know you aren't going to oppose them, in hopes you won't attract their attention, and they'll leave you alone.
One main function of ideologies is to advertise your level of agreeableness. Highly agreeable ideologies include Consensus Buddhism, Mormonism, and socialism. If you are highly disagreeable—your best strategy if you aren't good at cooperation—it pays to advertise that, too. Radical feminism, the Westboro Baptists, and Neoreaction signal broad disagreeableness.
Consensus Buddhism is not only a signal of high agreeableness; it's a way of developing the trait itself.
Such elite institutions are mainly open only to the upper-middle and upper classes. Consensus Buddhism functions as a cut-price version: training in the leftish middle class public code of decorum.
Agreeableness is particularly valued during courtship.19 Especially among the left tribe, passionate statements of commitment to agreeable ideologies are an essential part of the mating ritual. (See Miller, pp. 246-9, for funny and insightful examples and analysis.) In certain circles, "I'm a Buddhist" is a powerful claim to romantic attractiveness. (And some Buddhist events can be highly efficient singles markets!)
"Superhuman" levels of agreeableness signal high status when agreeableness is called for. Showing high agreeableness in conflict situations marks you as a loser.
Buddhism is for losers
At the beginning of this page, I asked: "What is ‘Buddhist ethics' for?" My answer has been that it's a strategy for advertising yourself as a "good" person—good to work with, hang out with, or have children with. I've explained why this strategy worked. I say "worked," because it no longer does. Various trends I described have progressively lowered Western Buddhism's signaling value. "Buddhist ethics" isn't fooling anyone anymore; everyone understands, implicitly, that there's no such thing. Buddhism isn't daring and sexy and hip anymore; it's your batty aunt's quaint, harmless, old-fashioned hobby. And it has gone from an upper middle class religion to a middle-middle one, and now probably a lower middle one.20
Lower middle class people are not losers! There is nothing wrong with lower middle class Buddhism. In fact, the Aro gTér lineage, which I practiced for more than a decade, was almost entirely working class in the 1980s, and is still mainly working and lower middle class. I myself am working class by some criteria, and lower middle by some others.
There is nothing wrong with comfortable, simplified, status-quo Buddhism, either! The Consensus impulse to create that was well-motivated and useful. I would like to see different Buddhisms available for all sorts of different people.
By "Buddhism is for losers" I mean that, at this point, saying you are a Buddhist is likely to signal that you are loser in the eyes of many people who, a couple decades ago, would have been impressed. For them, "Buddhist" now means "well-intentioned but ineffectual"; someone who can't get their stuff together enough to do anything significant or interesting.
What's dysfunctional is using Buddhism to signal high status if that doesn't work. That is definitely a loser's strategy. It was bad enough that Consensus Buddhism was mostly empty posturing. Empty posturing that doesn't fool anyone is totally pointless.
We can do better
We can do better at Buddhism, at ethics, and at signaling.
Possibly we can do better at Buddhist ethics, too. If a genuinely Buddhist ethics were possible, that would at least be intellectually fascinating. As a Buddhist, I'd hope it could also solve problems current secular ethics fails at. I think a comprehensive contemporary Buddhist ethics is probably impossible. However, in several upcoming pages I'll suggest ways Buddhism may at least contribute to a sophisticated contemporary ethics.
Suggesting that we can do better at Buddhism, and how, is the overall goal of this blog. Much of what I have done so far may seem unpleasantly disagreeable. I've suggested that modernist American Buddhism was dominated for two decades by a single narrow school (the "Consensus") which had value in its time, but no longer meets current needs. My intention, in being disagreeable, is to clear space for alternatives. I've begun to sketch one alternative, but it certainly should not be the alternative. We can and should have many new Buddhisms that are suitable for different people, and that are better at addressing their needs for meaning than the Consensus now is.
We can do better at ethics. In an upcoming post, I'll consider "Buddhist ethics" in terms of adult developmental psychology. I'll suggest that "Buddhist ethics" is an adolescent morality which may actively impede some Buddhists' personal growth. Moral developmental psychology explains more sophisticated ethical approaches. It explains how, as individuals, we can grow into them; and how institutions and ideologies can support individuals in that growth. These insights could influence the design of innovative Buddhist paths that guide students toward moral maturity and broad competence in dealing with life challenges. Elsewhere, I am also developing an approach to contemporary ethics that I find promising, and that is indirectly influenced by Dzogchen.
We can do better at signaling. It's tempting to say "we should all stop doing that, stop pretending, just be as we are"; but that's impossible. Signaling is fundamental to the human way of being. "Being as we are" includes it. Also, it's not a zero-sum competition; it is a net positive. Similar people enjoy each others' company, and getting accurate information about other people's personalities allows us to form like-minded communities. For example, high-openness people can get together and enjoy discussing cannibalism, necrophilia, and black magic, so I signal my high openness by writing Buddhism for Vampires. Meanwhile, low-openness people can get together and enjoy discussing compassion, healing, and mindfulness. I'm sure you know where to find that!
For Buddhists, better signaling means being more specific about what sort of Buddhist you are—which could say a lot about what sort of person you are in general. Before the Consensus homogenized all of Buddhism into uniform blandness, saying that you practiced Zen or Theravada might have conveyed more information than it does now. I hope in future that many highly distinctive Western Buddhisms will emerge. Declaring allegiance to one will make it quite clear what sort of person you are. This may enable Buddhist subcultures to function as highly supportive, close-knit communities for the particular kinds of people they attract.21 (See also my "Inclusion, exclusion, unity and diversity" on this point.)
More broadly, signals are somewhat arbitrary—who would have thought water bottles could signal sex?—and choosing the right ones has a huge impact on the quality of a society. Signaling motivates the worst things humans do. Rulers fight wars of conquest less to grab material goodies than to signal personal dominance. Signaling also motivates the best things humans do. Artistic creation is meant to signal intelligence and openness. Altruistic acts signal agreeability and tribal loyalty.
The Renaissance began when a handful of powerful men in Tuscany agreed to compete with each other by seeing who could commission the most glorious artworks, instead of whose army could slaughter the most people. As individuals and as societies, we do have some choice about which signals to use. Understanding that most of what we do is signaling helps us see that we have choices. In any given situation, is there a different way I could signal the same personal quality, whose side-effects would be better for me and/or others? Can we eliminate state subsidies for negative-value signaling activities, and perhaps even encourage positive-value ones?22
The Industrial Revolution led to conspicuous consumption and conspicuous waste as major signaling methods. Consumption is great if you actually enjoy it,23 but if you are consuming mainly to signal, you'd probably get more enjoyment from something else. And, there's nothing good to be said for conspicuous waste. Recently, awareness of this has driven the development of conspicuously ethical consumption: products advertised as "fair trade" and eco-friendly. Miller applauds this (p. 324), but I am skeptical. Most such products do not seem to be better in the ways they claim. So far, there has been a near-complete failure of badge policing. The certification organizations supposedly devoted to this are thoroughly corrupt and have altogether other agendas. Individuals who buy "fair trade" products just want to signal; they don't actually care whether it benefits poor people thousands of miles away, so they don't bother to check. Still, the approach is promising in principle.
The changing structure of the global economy, shifting away from industrial production and rendering most middle class careers obsolete, will force major changes in signal strategies anyway. Miller writes (p. 305):
The middle class values that worked well during the industrial era are now obsolete. It's widely predicted that the Western middle class will be automated out of existence over the next few decades. Signaling allegiance to middle class values is a becoming a loser's game.
Middle class Buddhism has outlived its usefulness. Can we develop new Buddhisms that point out ways to escape the middle class into more satisfactory ways of living?24
Note for non-American readers: Berkeley is probably the furthest-left town, politically, in America.↩︎
This insight is due to Thorstein Veblen, in The Theory of the Leisure Class.↩︎
Miller, p. 43.↩︎
Miller, p. 43. Actually, it's manufactured by the Coca-Cola Company in Hillside, New Jersey—which is a mile west of Newark Airport—and other unromantic places.↩︎
Miller, p. 116.↩︎
Miller, p. 117.↩︎
This is because Buddhism is commited to inclusivity and accepts everyone. So long as they have the correct opinions about all topics.↩︎
It does taste surprisingly good. Yes, I've bought it. By the way, have I told you about how healthy, hip, and sexy I am?↩︎
Or maybe some people are so dumb it doesn't occur to them to think "I could take a vitamin pill instead, and save a buck fifty per bottle." But VitaminWater™ would work just as well as a signal even if no one were that dumb.↩︎
It was also a wonderfully conspicuous waste, since it is costly and useless as preparation for any sort of productive job. Changes in the higher education funding system opened the liberal arts to the lower middle class, so now tens of millions of people have expensive educations that are useless both practically and as a class signal. This is a disaster for both individuals and society. (A liberal arts education can be valuable in other ways—but that's outside the scope of this post!)↩︎
An interesting specific example is musical taste. Up until the 1970s, to be upper middle class, you had to like classical music and dislike popular music. This worked because you could only learn about classical music in college, and mostly only the upper middle class went to college. It stopped working because the middle-middle started going to college, and also because it was hard to deny that the best rock music was as good as much of the classical repertoire. The new criterion was liking only the correct sorts of rock, and being able to explain what was correct about them. This eventually got to be both too easy and too geeky. So starting in the late 1990s, the new new criterion was having eclectic tastes. You had to be able to say which were the best performers in numerous genres, from alt-country to nu metal to gabber. (Plus of course you still had to have something intelligent to say about Monteverdi.) See Let's Talk About Love: Why Other People Have Such Bad Taste and "Changing Highbrow Taste: From Snob to Omnivore."↩︎
Catholic cultures place much less value on diligence and the abilities to defer gratification and suppress emotions. Max Weber influentially argued in The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism that these were keys to the development of the modern world.↩︎
Consider how people stereotypically behave at Protestant funerals vs. Catholic wakes, for example.↩︎
"An Episcopalian is a Presbyterian with a trust fund. A Presbyterian is a Methodist with a college education. And a Methodist is a Baptist with shoes."↩︎
Miller has an extremely interesting theory about why (p. 213) which, unfortunately, is too complicated to explain here. It involves memetic parasites and the function of disgust.↩︎
Another point. This is important, but I'm relegating it to a footnote because this page is too damn long. Miller observes that openness is valuable only when combined with high intelligence. If you are smart enough to evaluate whether new ideas are good ones, being an early adopter works in your favor. If not, openness results in your adopting superficially attractive but harmful and wrong ideas. (A relevant proverb: "You should have an open mind, but not so open that your brain falls out.") Consensus Buddhism is infested with "woo": pseudoscientific and supernatural nonsense. Some is traditional Buddhist woo (which modernist Asian Buddhists tried to get rid of as early as the 1850s); much is Western woo. High-openness, low-intelligence people are suckers for the stuff.↩︎
Miller, p. 149.↩︎
I'm using the phrase "bad people" somewhat humorously. There are no entirely bad people (or entirely good people). However, this simplification helps explain the logic of defector-punishing.↩︎
On average, women are more agreeable than men. On average, agreeableness is more valued in women, and assertiveness in men. This is probably the reason that Consensus Buddhism has been progressively feminized. For an insightful analysis, see "Back to Suffragette City?" by Nella Lou (a woman), based on a post by Brooke Shedneck (another woman) that was also excellent but unfortunately is no longer available. Nella Lou interprets the Hardcore Dharma movement partly as a backlash; I think she's right. Feminization probably contributes to Consensus Buddhism's progressively lower perceived status (discussed in my next section). I strongly support the existence of feminine and/or feminist religions, but I wouldn't want Western Buddhism to be available only in that form. I do see some danger of that happening.↩︎
Meanwhile, ironically, Buddhism has recently become the prestige religion among the Chinese elite. Perhaps even more interestingly, a modernized form of Nyingma Tantra is considered the highest-status version. That addresses new problems of meaningness—nihilism, specifically—that rich, educated Chinese find themselves facing rather suddenly.↩︎
Miller points out (pp. 297-301 and 305-307) that American housing law is a major obstacle to the formation of close-knit communities. Anti-discrimination regulations, created with the best of intentions, have the unintended side-effect of making distinctive subsocieties illegal. He makes an interesting a priori case that this has been disastrous. I don't know how much empirical support there may be for the thesis.↩︎
Miller has two chapters of proposals for government actions that would shift signaling incentives. Many of them I don't like, but they are at least interesting.↩︎
"Consumption is great if you enjoy it" is a Tantric perspective that is contrary to Sutric Buddhism and to leftish secular ethics (which derive from Puritanism). I'll touch on this briefly in an upcoming post; I hope to write about it in detail at some point.↩︎
Stay tuned for discussion in an upcoming episode. See also the conclusion to Miller's book, pp. 328-329.↩︎