There is no paradox of desire in Buddhism
By Wayne Alt
Philosophy East and West
Vol.30:4( October,1980)
P.521-530
(C)by The University Press of Hawaii
p. 521
Buddha taught that everyone encounters suffering and
disappointment. He also taught that these
dissatisfactions have causes and that they will be
eliminated if their causes are. Although he
recognized that a number of different factors combine
to cause dissatisfaction, he singled out desire as
the principal cause.
Some critics of Buddhism have found it difficult to
accept the Buddha's prescription. They point out that
to eliminate desire one must desire to do so; they
then argue that this is somehow paradoxical, and
conclude that Buddha's prescription cannot be
followed. Two recent formulations of this criticism
have appeared in this journal.
John Visvader and A. L. Herman both agree that desire
can be eliminated only by the desire to do so.(1)
This seems paradoxical to them since to get rid of
one's desires one must begin by adding to them. But
since desire causes suffering, by attempting to
eliminate desire, one simply adds to one's suffering.
Was the Buddha's prescription therefore misleading?
Is suffering, after all, unavoidable? In places,
Visvader suggests that it is, though he nowhere
argues the point. Herman, on the other hand, presents
an argument which is designed to show that desire can
never be eliminated. Neither Visvader nor Herman
marshal any considerations that would establish this
strong conclusion. If it is true that human desire
can never be eliminated, this must be established in
ways other than those proposed by Visvader and
Herman.
I. UROBORIC INFELICITIES
Visvader compares the Gnostic serpent, Uroboros,
coiled in a circle swallowing its tail, to certain
therapeutic philosophies, which, because they take a
skeptical stance against philosophy, are in danger,
like Uroboros, of consuming themselves. It would be
paradoxical to suppose that Uroboros can swallow
himself. But his attempt to do so apparently has
interesting consequences: for Uroboros is also shown
transforming himself into a salamander. To Visvader,
this imagery suggests parallel transformations
brought about by certain therapeutic philosophies. He
tries to show that it is through the use of certain
"uroboric" paradoxes that these philosophies not only
put an end to themselves, but in doing so they raise
the student who has encountered them to transcendent
levels of understanding:
These philosophies that I wish to explore to a small
degree do more, however, than merely refute
themselves. They seem to transcend themselves in a
profound way and leave the student in a place he was
not in before. Philosophy is used as a means for
putting an end to itself in a nontrivial way.(2)
Visvader construes the word "paradox" broadly. In the
full sense of the word, a paradox is a statement that
is true just in case it is false. He cites a
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Wayne Alt is Assistant Professor at Soochow
Uhiversity, Taipei, Taiwan.
Philosophy East and West 30,no.4(October, 1980). by
The University Press of Hawaii. all rights reserved.
P 521
modern-day version of the liar's paradox, ''This
sentence is false," as an example of a paradox in
this full sense. In addition to this full sense he
also recognizes two versions of a limited sense. On
the one hand, some statements are paradoxical because
they are self-refuting. For example, if I tell you
that everything I say is false, my statement will be
true only if it is false. On the other hand, some
imperatives are paradoxes because they condemn them-
selves. For example, if I advise you not to take
advice from anyone, you should begin by ignoring what
I say.
The advice to take advice from no one is infelicitous
because it extends to itself. Not all infelicitous
instructions involve problems of self-reference,
however. Some, according to Visvader, are
infelicitous because they "cannot be done
intentionally."(3) He thinks that examples of this
kind of paradox are met with in both Taoism and
Buddhism, and that some schools of Buddhism actually
make use of them to raise devotees to new levels of
understanding and practice. As a basis for
considering the use of paradox in Buddhism, Visvader
postulates what he calls "the intention paradox."
Unfortunately, his treatment of this alleged paradox
is marred by a number of errors, which once exposed,
cast doubt on his remarks about Buddhism.
If someone tells you to raise your hand without
intending to, what should you do? Visvader says:
"Raise your hand without intending to, " unlike
"Neither raise your hand nor not raise it," is not a
contradictory instruction, though it places us in
grave difficulties if we try to carry it out.(4)
But it is a mistake to suppose that "Raise your hand
without intending to" is not a self-contradictory
instruction. For I can raise my hand only if I intend
to. Of course, my hand might be raised even if I
don't intend it to--if you raise it, for example. But
in that case I have not raised it. To tell someone to
raise his hand without intending to is like telling
him to speak without using his voice. The former
cannot be accomplished without the latter. Hence, by
instructing me to raise my hand, you require that I
intend to raise it. But this contradicts your
requirement that I not intend to raise it. Your
instruction, in other words, is self-contradictory.
Because of his failure to recognize its
self-contradictory nature, Visvader is misled to a
muddled explanation of the way in which "Raise your
hand without intending to" is infelicitous. He says:
To raise my hand in attempting to obey the
instruction I must intend to do so, yet if I do it
with intentionality, I will not be obeying the
instruction.(5)
But the plausibility of this explanation trades on an
ambiguity of the word "it" in the phrase "if I do it
with intentionality." The phrase may be interpreted
as:
1. "if I do (raise my hand) with intentionality"
P 522
or as
2. "if I do (attempt to obey the instruction) with
intentionality"
Interpreted in the latter way there is no problem.
For in attempting to obey the instruction I might do
many intentional things, such as discuss the
instruction with others, ask that it be repeated, and
so on. By doing these things, however, I do not
thereby disobey the instruction. But, of course, as
soon as I raise my hand I do disobey it, for I can
raise it only if I intend to. Hence, raising my hand
cannot be counted, as Visvader's words suggest, among
the things that I do "in attempting to obey the
instruction."
It is important to realize this, for then one sees
that the instruction is simply absurd, and that the
best course of action is to ignore it completely.
II. "GIVE UP DESIRES"
Visvader is especially interested in an instruction
which he says occupies an honored place in Buddhism
as well as some other religions. He formulates this
instruction as the imperative "Give up desires," and
claims:
The statement "Give up desires" raises difficulties
of a similar kind as does the intention paradox of
"Raise your hand without intending to" (or the
instruction of the Zen school to act from
no-mind).(6)
In the last section it was shown that Visvader not
only fails to recognize that "Raise your hand without
intending to" is a contradictory instruction, he
mistakenly thinks that it is infelicitous because one
who tries to obey it thereby disobeys it. In the
present section it will be shown that Visvader fails
to show that "Give up desires" is infelicitous.
By comparing it to the so-called intention paradox,
Visvader suggests that "Give up desires" is
infelicitous because one who tries to obey it thereby
disobeys it. He says:
I cannot begin or even try to give up all desires
unless I first have the desire to do so, and if I
take the statement seriously I should give up that
desire as well. So even if it was clear what was
meant by giving up desires, I must begin by adding to
them.(7)
It must be admitted that to obey the instruction
"Give up desires" I must begin by adding to my
desires. But even if I add to my desires the desire
to give them up, I do not thereby disobey the
instruction to give them up. Insofar as such a desire
is counted as just one more desire in an already
overflowing inventory, there does seem to be a sense
in which it is a step backward and away from the
Buddhist goal of eliminating desire. Even so, such a
step is not tantamount to disobeying the instruction.
Suppose, for example, that you tell me to jump up
into the air. To carry out your instruction I must
begin by bending my knees. But even though I must
begin by moving downward, a direction opposite to the
one in which you want me to move, I have not
P 523
thereby disobeyed your instruction. Rather, I have
simply taken the first necessary step in carrying it
out. By the same token, if you instruct me to give up
desires, I must begin by moving in a direction that
is opposite to the one in which you want me to move.
But I do not thereby disobey your instruction;
rather, I simply take the first step necessary in
carrying it out, and there is nothing paradoxical
about that.
Visvader claims that the desire to give up desires is
made paradoxical by considering it in relation to the
suffering it causes:
It is this desire to escape suffering that fills out
the paradoxical quality of the desire to give up
desires, for if I give up the desire to give up
desires, I will still be locked in suffering, while
if I try to give up desires, I will only add to the
cause of it.(8)
It must be admitted that if one does not desire to
give up desires, one will continue to have them, and
so, continue to suffer. But it is roundly mistaken to
think that if one does desire to give up desires, one
will only add to the cause of suffering.
Only someone who realizes the extent and cause of
his suffering will generate enough concern to try to
get rid of his desires. Visvader recognizes this, but
seems to think that this concern must dangle forever
in midair, as though it could never be anything more
than a kind of ineffectual fretting that merely adds
to one's stock of desires, thereby issuing in a kind
of "double suffering." What he fails to consider is
that this initial anxious concern to be rid of one's
desires may mature and transform itself into methods
of action that decrease, not add to, the causes of
suffering. For example, by forming the resolve to
conform to the moral precepts enumerated by the
Buddha in the eightfold path, one might initially
experience self-doubt and anxiety about one's ability
to purify oneself in such ways. In fact, such doubts
just might be additional causes of suffering,
especially if, as seems inevitable at first, one
deviates widely from the path. But by holding a firm
resolve, one's practice improves, and as it improves,
self-doubts, as well as those desires that were
initially the cause of one's suffering, begin to melt
away. In other words, by desiring to be rid of
desires, one does not only add to the cause of
suffering. This might be the case at first. But as
this desire finds expression in suitable forms of
practice, one begins to suffer less, certainly less
than before forming the desire.
Because Visvader fails to show that there is a
paradox in Buddhism, he is left without any
foundation for his claim that Buddhism has developed
ways "to help students overcome this practical
paradox."(9) One way he calls "easing over," a
method in which "the paradox is ignored" and emphasis
is placed on practice. Another way he calls the
"uroboric leap." Here the student is made to realize
not only the emptiness of the self and the objects of
desire, but eventually the emptiness of Buddhism, and
finally the emptiness of the very
P 524
concept of emptiness. Whether "easing over" and the
"uroboric leap" are typical of Buddhism is, I think,
an open question. What is clear is that where there
is no problem there is no need for a solution. As we
have seen in this section however, and as we shall
see in the next, it is sometimes necessary to set
straight those who mistakenly think that there is a
problem and who feel compelled to "solve" it.
III. DESIRING DESIRELESSNESS
A. L. Herman claims that there is a paradox of desire
in Buddhism:
If I desire to cease desiring then I have not ceased
all desire after all; I have merely replaced one
species of desire by another. The paradox of desire
points to the practical contradiction or frustration
involved in the desire to stop all desiring and
states simply that those who desire to stop all
desiring will never be successful. (10)
Surely, so long as I desire to cease desiring I have
at least one desire, and hence I have not ceased all
desire. But this fact is not troublesome unless it is
assumed that the Buddhist goal of extinguishing
desire can be achieved only by continuing to desire
it. It may be admitted that one must begin by
desiring the goal, and hence that the goal cannot be
achieved at the beginning. Rather. to achieve the
goal other steps must be taken, and progress toward
the goal can be made by leaving behind the steps that
have been taken in its direction. One who desires to
have no desires can take steps toward this goal by
leaving behind some desires. But by continuing to
take steps in the direction of the goal, can one
eventually leave behind all the steps? Why would it
be para- doxical to suppose that by desiring to do so
one eventually leaves behind all desires, even the
desire to leave them behind?
Herman's attempt to answer this question begins by
distinguishing three types of desire:
First, there is the most important desire, namely,
the desire for desirelessness, ("desire1'"). Second,
there is the desire in desirelessness, namely, the
desire we are trying to eliminate ("desire2") .
Finally, there is the desire that is the result of
desiring desirelessness, that is, the type of desire
that the desire, for desire2-lessness produces
("desire3").(11)
He then presents the following argument:
1. Desire1 for desire2-lessness leads to desire3.
2. Desire1 is a species of desire2.
3. Desire3 is a species of desire2.
4. But if desire1 and desire3 are merely species
of desire2, then desire2-lessness is impossible.
Premises 2 through 4 entail the unstated conclusion:
C. Desire2-lessness is impossible.
P 525
Herman rounds off this bit of reasoning with the
following assertion:
5. Realizing the truth of 4 is tantamount to
achieving nirvaa.na.(12)
Let us examine Herman's argument.
Desire1, says Herman, is the desire for
desire2-lessness. The desires which Herman calls
"desire2" are:
the lusts, cravings, and needs of ordinary existence
that lead to the suffering and misery that the Buddha
spoke to so eloquently.(13)
This passage appears to conflict with premise 2. For
the desire for desire2-lessness hardly seems to be a
lust or a craving, and it is equally questionable
that it is a need. There is a sense in which the
desire to have no desires might lead to suffering and
misery. In this sense it may be admitted that desire1
and the lusts, cravings, and needs of ordinary
existence share a common characteristic. If this
characteristic is treated as a defining
characteristic of "desire2", then premise 2 may be
granted. But such a treatment not only seems
arbitrary, it renders the definition of "desire2" too
broad.
Premise 1 is clearly not essential to the formal
validity of Herman's argument. It appears to function
as a kind of background proposition which states the
interrelationship between the three kinds of desire
that he enumerates. The trouble is that the
proposition is impossibly vague. Herman nowhere says
what desire3 is a desire for, and he fails to mention
how desire3 results from desire1. The unclarity of
"desire3" infects both premises 3 and 4, and hence
raises a question about 5, which refers to 4.
Perhaps Herman imagines that as a result of wanting
to get rid of those desires that cause suffering one
comes to want things that will help get rid of them,
such as a teacher, for example. This seems to be a
natural sense in which desire, might result in other
desires. And insofar as these resultant desires are
capable of causing suffering, there is some ground
for granting premise 3.
If premises 2 and 3 are granted, the antecedent of
4 must also be granted; but 4 itself is doubtful. For
consider that even though whales and elephants are
species of mammal this by no means implies that
mammals cannot be eliminated. Why then should it be
thought that desire2 cannot be eliminated because
desire1 and desire3 are species of desire2? This
would follow if it were supposed that desire1 and
desire3 are themselves species which cannot be
eliminated. In fact, just after asserting premise 4,
Herman says:
Thus the paradox of desire which [sic] says that it
is impossible to eliminate desire2 since it would
continue to exist as either desire1 or desire3.(14)
Surely, if desire1 or desire3 continue to exist, then
desire2 would continue to exist. Yet is there any
reason to think that either desire1 or desire3 must
continue to exist, and that they cannot be eliminated
just like any other desire? Herman does not answer
this question, though in one place he says:
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desirelessness can never be attained, because
desiring desirelessness produces desire....(15)
This passage suggests that it is ultimately desire3
which blocks the road to desirelessness.
No doubt the desire to have no desires can produce
resultant desires, such as a desire for a teacher.
Moreover, insofar as resultant desires remain
unsatisfied, the desire to have no desires will
continue to be frustrated. But again, why should it
be thought that resultant desires cannot be
eliminated? Might not one eventually find a teacher,
for example, or discover that he does not need a
teacher, and so stop desiring to have one? Resultant
desires, in other words, need not always block the
road to desirelessness, and if satisfied might even
help one attain it. So we must turn to the only other
alternative Herman provides, namely, desire1. Is
there any reason to think, as Herman suggests, that
desire1, cannot be eliminated?
Suppose I desire1 to eliminate desire2.If I satisfy
desire1, that is, if I actually manage to eliminate
desire2, then desire1 will thereby be eliminated. For
the satisfaction of any desire is tantamount to its
elimination. So it appears that desire1, like any
other desire, can be eliminated after all. Someone
might reply that desire2 cannot be eliminated, and
hence desire1 can never be satisfied. But it could
not be argued, as Herman suggests, that desire2
cannot be eliminated because desire1 cannot be
eliminated. That would simply beg the question.
Hence, we are led back to the central question of
this article: Why would it be paradoxical or
otherwise logically absurd to suppose that human
desire can be completely eliminated?
I have argued that neither Visvader nor Herman offer
any good reasons for thinking that desiring to get
rid of desire is paradoxical. I have also shown that
they fail to provide grounds for the claim that it
would be impossible for someone to eliminate all of
his desires. Whether it would be possible for someone
to accomplish such a feat depends, I think, on what
is meant by "desire." Herman, for example, says that
needs are desires. If this is so, it is certain that
human desire could never be eliminated; but if one
thinks of desires only as lusts or cravings, then
perhaps it would be possible to get rid of them all.
In this connection other writers have spoken of
attachment, thirst, selfish desire, and so on. These
are all interesting concepts and deserve
consideration.
Perhaps in the future someone will attempt to clarify
the concept of "desire." This would be an interesting
philosophical project and an obvious contribution to
Buddhist studies.
P 527
NOTES
1. John Visvader, "The Use of Paradox in Uroboric
Philosophies, " Philosophy East and West 28 (October,
1978): 455-467, and A. L. Herman, "A Solution to the
Paradox of Desire in Buddhism," philosophy East and
West 29 (January, 1979): 91-94.
2. Visvader, op. cit., p. 455.
3. Ibid., p. 460.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid., p. 461.
6. Ibid.
7. Ibid.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid., p. 462.
10. Herman, op. cit., p. 91.
11. Ibid., p. 92.
12. Ibid., Premises 1 through 5 are found on pages 92
and 93.
13. Ibid., p. 92.
14. Ibid., p. 93.
15. Ibid.