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Home / Video and Q&A – Keynote Lecture: Prof. Jin Y. Park, “What Is Ethics For? A Minimalist Approach to Buddhist Ethics”

Video and Q&A – Keynote Lecture: Prof. Jin Y. Park, “What Is Ethics For? A Minimalist Approach to Buddhist Ethics”


About this Event

Presented on October 1, 2022 by Professor Jin Y. Park, this keynote is part of the academic workshop, Buddhist Ethics 3.0: In Memory of Michael Jerryson (1974-2021).

To know more about this event, go to the Keynote page: What Is Ethics For? A Minimalist Approach to Buddhist Ethics.

This event was made possible by by the generous support of The Robert H. N. Ho Family Foundation, in collaboration with the Journal of Buddhist Ethics.


Q&A
Having come from the study of Buddhism and human rights, I was struck by your presentation and the idea that human rights–as Walzer was saying in his discussion of truth, equality and justice–was meant to be a minimum standard. It was meant to be that lowest bar that we could all agree on, was the minimum standard for human flourishing, and that human flourishing was not supposed to end there, but start there. This is a question of clarification: You questioned Walzer’s identification of these three liberal, enlightenment values (truth, equality, justice) as the shared moral minimum because we as social beings no longer agree on what’s true, no longer agree on what’s fair. You point to suffering as what humans do agree on. I hoped you would speak further about the ontological or socially constructed status of suffering as that shared basis? I think the idea of the shared basis is really interesting, and then it has this capacity to turn into something that takes towards wisdom, flourishing, something beyond itself. So, what causes Walzer’s three values to fail to be a minimum standard, but allows suffering to succeed as a minimum standard?
That’s obviously a question I have asked myself for a long time about human rights. We can make a distinction between human rights as an international law and the human rights as mentioned in the liberalist political philosophy. For law, there is the UN Declaration of Human Rights (1948). Those human rights are really a minimum dignity. On the other hand, when you say “I have a right not to get vaccinated”, that’s a human right based on a liberalist understanding. I have a right not to do this; I have right to do this. These are two different things. But when you consider truth, justice, and equality, or consider the claims of protesters, I feel these are ‘thicker’. The idea is thicker than the suffering. In 1989, I’m sure Walzer was right. But 2022? There are so many different versions of justice and truth. I don’t know whether this is a good thing or bad thing, but that much is clear. Suffering, on the other hand, has fewer versions that are not mutually recognized. Now, I can say, “I feel pain.” Someone else can say, “You are a woman, you don’t have capacity to feel pain.” That kind of denial is still possible, but less fraught today than a denial of truth. I’ve been trying to find this kind of minimum, what might be the most non-negotiable minimum. So, there would be just differences, but that’s a valid question. I agree. – Jin Y. Park

I wanted to ask a follow up to the previous question. I can imagine someone claiming that in the areas in which we are falling apart, that we have polarization–these are precisely disagreements about whose suffering counts. I think of the arguments about abortion, the pro-life and pro-choice claims. I think of the arguments made about the suffering of migrants vs. citizens. There’s a kind of politics of resentment based on citizens’ perception of their own suffering in the United States, for example. In the back of my mind I have Susan Sontag’s book, “Regarding the Pain of Others” (2003). She discusses how we see people in pain, has many images of people in pain, which can have such rhetorical power and can be interpreted in opposite ways. I guess I was wondering if suffering isn’t really much thicker than we might be tempted to think.
Buddhist suffering is not that simple, as we all know. Sung Bae Park, who was my teacher at Stony Brook when I was studying Buddhism, he would always say that, “there are 4 noble truths listed, but really there is only one: the first truth, suffering.” If you recognize suffering, you already know the other three truths. It’s not as if you move from first, to second, to third, and finally forth. If you realize that you actually suffer, then you know there are other truths. But when I describe this as a ‘human’ suffering, the type addressed by socially engaged Buddhism, then that’s a little bit different. I don’t know whether you would call it ‘thinner,’ but it is different. It is different from a really traditional concept of suffering as a first noble truth. But at the same time, I think that we can still say that human suffering is useful to help people trigger their moral imagination. It is true that suffering can be ‘thick.’ But it’s less compromisable than this idea of justice and truth in our time. In the United States, I no longer know what we mean by truth. – Jin Y. Park

Arthur Danto once made the wonderful observation that it’s easy to see that there is suffering, it’s really hard to see that it’s significant, pervasive, and the existential problem of our life. That’s why Buddhism considers suffering to be a noble truth and not just commonplace. When we consider the truth of suffering in Michael Walzer’s categories of thick and thin, the problem is one of motivation. Although suffering might be ‘thin’ and thus a minimum property that everybody has, it might be true that everybody suffering only has moral motivational force if first we recognize it as a deep existential problem, rather than just an interesting fact about the world. But it might also require that we actually think that the suffering of others–all others–is significant. It might require that we’re willing to forge bonds of solidarity instead of compete to try to alleviate my suffering at somebody else’s expense, because I might well see that I’m suffering, and you’re suffering. Then I say “Yeah, so I’d better get over on you”, so that you’re suffering and I’m not. Solidarity doesn’t seem to flow naturally, just from the recognition or the universality of suffering. There seem to be enough stages that the thinness gets called into question.
If everybody recognizes suffering, then you will try to remove your own suffering first, rather than think about others suffering. That might be true. But at the same time, that’s where cultivation comes in. If you really think about this individualistic world, then ‘I’ am suffering and ‘you’ are suffering. I am more important than you. I will get rid of my suffering, and after that, I might or might not help you to get over your suffering. But, on the other hand, if Buddhist teaching is working, or if somebody is trying to exercise it, my suffering makes me realize that as much as I suffer, the other party must suffer. So, my suffering can trigger this moment of connection with others. That also has to do with the earlier versions of Buddhist Ethics. In these earlier versions of Buddhist ethics, especially Zen Buddhist ethics, people talk about enlightenment, and wisdom, and compassion. If you obtain enlightenment, you have wisdom and thus, one will naturally feel compassion for other people. I don’t think that’s the case. The very fact of attaining enlightenment doesn’t automatically make you exercise compassion. Even Buddha didn’t do that. Buddha needed to be told “Okay. Go out, teach people”, and he said “No. I don’t want to teach people”, but eventually he decided to do it. Seongju, in the Korean Zen Buddhist tradition, make this clear: The very fact that you have wisdom does not automatically help you to exercise compassion; a constant and consistent effort is required to exercise your wisdom. And that is another aspect of really thinking about my suffering and your suffering. For example, if I had the flu and then the next day William has the flu, I can see that William suffers and there is a connection between the two. And then I respond, “I’m going to get you some hot tea”, because that connection occurred, I act. Otherwise, the two sufferings are disconnected. So, once again, it might sound like an overreach to find what might connect us, help us, motivate us to give rise to this ethical imagination and action. But I think that the recognition of suffering, when this recognition of suffering is extended to the recognition of others’ suffering, is a possibility–yet this also requires constant exercise and cultivation. – Jin Y. Park

In your presentation you drew upon Pak, the modern Korean logician, to suggest that the ‘personal’ is a ‘plural singularity’. I am wondering what this entails for the relationship between the singular and the plural, namely between the ‘I’ and the ‘we’. Can the Buddhist approach to the ‘I’ and the ‘we’ enable us to think beyond the good old dichotomy between individualism and collectivism in ethical and political discussions? So, my question is how do we go from Pak’s definition of the singular plural, to problems between the I and the we that are often mapped onto individualism and collectivism in political and ethical discussion?
Plurality doesn’t necessarily lead to a kind of collectivism. In other words, when Pak Ch’iu says that “I am plural-singular”, this is a conclusion he reached after criticizing Western Liberalism. In his view, Western Liberalism is a one-to-one relationship and fails to accomplish its promise of equality for all. He says that this promise that was made in the European enlightenment fails because of individualism and because the idea was actually based on a hierarchical relationship among the individual members of society. From there he moved to plurality of identity, in the sense that my freedom should also be shared in others’ freedom. If one remains in the individualistic paradigm, in which my freedom is ‘my’ freedom, then in order to have freedom, you must invade my freedom–so there is a constant competition. That’s our society, one-to-one relationship and individualism. The basis of this kind of relationship is seeing other people as objects of my competition, and thinking that I have to win over others. To overcome this idea, and this unhealthy relationship with others, we must think of our identity as a plural. Because I am plural-singular, my freedom should be shared by your freedom. The issue of collectivism is there as well but, for context, Pak Ch’iu was a Communist. In the 1940s he moved to North Korea, emphasizing that philosophy must be practiced in action. And he actually practiced it as a Communist. Then he came down to South Korea as a Communist guerilla and was killed by the South Korean army. That was why he was not studied in South Korea until very recently, for obvious reasons. Although he was a Communist, he didn’t address the issue of collectivism. He focused more on a criticism of Western Liberalism. – Jin Y. Park

I have a comment. I think it’s a supportive comment, though based on a very complex argument. If I understood you correctly, when you explained ‘true equality’ you resorted to tathāgatagarbha or Buddha nature. This idea was explicitly put forth in the earliest texts and arguments against Mādhyamaka thought–that Mādhyamaka thinkers fail to recognize the sameness and the equality of all sentient beings. Without that recognition, they cannot explain why others matter. However, requiring this recognition seems like a high bar for a thin moral standard. When people consider ‘sameness’ and Buddhism, they often assume it is an ontological sameness. But overwhelmingly, it’s precisely the kind of sameness you are pointing to: that all beings fear suffering, and that all beings wish to be happy. That is the sameness and it seems like a very low bar, something approaching thinness. I am not sure you can even talk to a Buddhist if they can’t begin from that standpoint–notwithstanding the kind of complications Jay Garfield throws in there. So that is the very same. It’s all being suffer.
There have been many questions about why choose suffering? Why is suffering better than liberal ideas about justice and truth? How do we get to the bottom of it? To the bottom of our sharedness and, in that case, we have a tendency to thinking of liberal ideas. That’s why truth and justice have been candidates for this kind of shared ground of values. But what if we go down to something more earthly. Suffering really has to do with the body. Suffering includes mental suffering, but mental suffering does not happen just mentally, it happens in our body. So, one reason I put suffering forward is that ethical discourse can become so abstract. I think that ethical discourse should really involve the discourse about our bodies. Psychology, too, can become very abstract. I want to focus on the concrete reality of our bodies, how they relate to our ethical imagination, and suffering to me is at the border of bodies and imagination. – Jin Y. Park

I am not convinced, by the way, that you set up a distinction between truth and justice on one hand, and suffering on the other. The issue is that any moral concept can get compromised in the sense of misuse and misinterpretation. Truth and justice, I think, have always been compromised. Orwell was talking about a Ministry of Truth that dealt in lies back in 1948. Department of Justice enforces unjust incarceration. Truth and justice have always been a problem, and not just since 1989. On suffering, Paul Bloom points out how hatred often comes out of empathy for the suffering of victims. The US generated support for attacks on Iraq by referring to the suffering of the regime’s victims; Trump’s early campaign referred to Kate Steinle, who was murdered by an undocumented immigrant, in order to drum up hate against them; Palestinians murder Israelis because they see the suffering Israelis cause, and then Israelis murder Palestinians, because they see the suffering Palestinians cause. So, it’s not clear to me how replacing truth and justice with suffering helps with the problem of misuse. Don’t you think that any value can be compromised and we must deal with that?
That’s a very good point. The suffering of your enemies might give you pleasure; the suffering of a victim might give rise to hatred. However, if we consider suffering as a kind of a trigger for moral imagination, we might be able to change this course. That’s what I’m trying to propose. Truth and justice have been centered in moral discourse, and in social and political discourse. But I do not believe we have centered suffering as a kind of foundation for moral discourse. Suffering has been treated as just an emotion or reactions. If we begin to think about suffering in a more complex way–and here there is a conflict with ‘thinness’–we can consider how suffering can actually create a certain kind of relationship with others. I do not think that suffering has been thought of in this way, as a centered or foundational aspect of moral discourse in the ways that truth and justice have. It has appeared in moral reasoning as just a kind of reaction to a certain situation. My hope is to think about this suffering as itself forming moral discourse. – Jin Y. Park

Maybe this is provocative but, taking a lead from your suggestion that one problem with our ethical approaches might be that they have become too idealist or abstract, and you’re calling for something more embodied. Perhaps one could say you are calling for something more materialist in responding to the Marxian influence and Pak Ch’iu’s affiliation with Marxism. In your presentation slide, I read “solidarity of the margin”. That sounds to me like class revolution. Is that what it is? I can imagine a scenario in which solidarity of the margin means the overthrow of the elite. Well, what does it mean? What kind of revolution does it lead to when it’s in a Buddhist framework?
‘Solidarity of the margin’ is an idea that I’ve been thinking a lot about in the sense that those people at the margin are the ones that usually suffer, because the center has power and margin does not. But when we really consider who is at the margin, we see that it includes many people. Women–half the population of the world–are at the margin. If you think about people of color, they are at the margin. If you think about people that do not have money in a capitalist society, they at the margin. There are more at the margin than at the center. The thing is we tend to ignore our marginal position, and we kind of inflate our central position. For example, if you are a woman but you are white, there is a tendency to explore this white centrality rather than women’s marginality, and so on and so forth. To face one’s marginality is another way of really thinking about other people suffering. This is why I invoked the idea from African American studies that, if you are marginalized, you are black. This is a very radical idea, but that’s exactly what I have in mind when I point to the solidarity of the margin. If you really think about your marginal position and the suffering of other people at the margin, if you count all these things, at a certain level you are at the margin. We simply try not to be aware of that. We try to suppress our marginal position and highlight our central position. Solidarity of the margin, like the awareness of suffering, requires a cultivated or educated awareness of we mean by margin. Where are you in this structure? Are you all at the center, or are you at the margin in some spectrum? And when you are aware of your place at the margin, then you have to think about other people that are at the margin as well. – Jin Y. Park

That’s a very good point. The suffering of your enemies might give you pleasure; the suffering of a victim might give rise to hatred. However, if we consider suffering as a kind of a trigger for moral imagination, we might be able to change this course. That’s what I’m trying to propose. Truth and justice have been centered in moral discourse, and in social and political discourse. But I do not believe we have centered suffering as a kind of foundation for moral discourse. Suffering has been treated as just an emotion or reactions. If we begin to think about suffering in a more complex way–and here there is a conflict with ‘thinness’–we can consider how suffering can actually create a certain kind of relationship with others. I do not think that suffering has been thought of in this way, as a centered or foundational aspect of moral discourse in the ways that truth and justice have. It has appeared in moral reasoning as just a kind of reaction to a certain situation. My hope is to think about this suffering as itself forming moral discourse. – Jin Y. Park

This discussion has been helpful for me. So, this is a comment bringing in two theorists who I realize you might be working in parallel with and neither of them are Buddhist. One theorist is Cynthia Willett and her book, “Maternal Ethics and Other Slave Moralities”. There she gives an account very similar to what you have done with solidarity of the margin. In terms of suffering, And then in terms of your use of suffering, another theorist is Giorgio Agamben and his notions of ‘bare life’ and ‘form-of-life’. I wonder if you think of Giorgio Agamben’s notion of ‘form-of-life’ might play a similar role to suffering in your understanding. Any time that biological life is separated from (or abstracted from) political life, bare life is produced opening up exclusion and violence. A form-of-life cannot be separated in this way. I wonder if having an ethics based on form-of-life is in resonance with the kind of thing that you’re doing.
Well, I haven’t worked on Agamben that much. Mostly I’ve work with Derrida. So, if I can bring your comment into the context of Derrida’s philosophy and his focus on the idea of exclusion, or how one is being excluded. Derrida’s exclusion means being at the margin. And what kind of structure is it that create this exclusion? And that is where Derrida’s discussion of a violence concerns how this exclusion happens. So, there is exclusion from the center to the margin, and then violence, and then suffering. They all go together. And if we really put them together, there could be the possibility of an ethics-but Derrida even says that ethics is the opening of violence as well. Because ethics itself tries to impose new values, it becomes another violence. – Jin Y. Park


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