Why Did Girard Dismiss Buddhism?

A controversy has been raised again that Girard’s self-designated anthropology is a system of thought not deserving that appellation. As if to corroborate this claim it has been pointed out that it has not made as much as a mark in the field of anthropology proper.

Not being an anthropologist myself, I would nevertheless easily concede that Girard’s thought does not amount to a well-rounded anthropology. Yet I admire many of his insights and think that they have “changed my life,” but more for religious reasons than any others. Of course, his theory has many facets, and the basic mimetic aspect of it is in my opinion not only illuminating, nay, ground-breaking but also unimpeachable. But when this mimesis escalates to extremes, when scapegoats are created and condemned to ostensibly produce the “sacred” – that is, where the whole theory bears on anthropology the most  –  I do have my doubts. The main reason being that it is difficult if not impossible to find examples of this mechanism outside mythic settings in order to be able to establish how universal the scenario of an innocent scapegoat being declared guilty then becoming “sacred,” with peace ensuing, actually is. The most doubtful to me is the purported prevalence of the last step. The fact that, as Girard declared, the mechanism ceased operating following the Christian revelation does not help either. No production of the peace-bestowing sacred any more, while scapegoats’ supply seemingly remains undiminished, though they are now a different breed, many of them self-designated.

I do not have any doubts in the case of Jesus as seen through the Girardian lens, though. That particular case, as standing in total contradistinction to the regular resolution of scapegoating AS POSITED by Girard, gives an incredible intellectual as well as moral boost and guidance to the Christian. It has the potential to transform those who come under its (or rather His, the innocent self-sacrificing victim’s) spell.

But the scapegoating scenario as such in Girard’s thought emerges from his reading of myth and various scriptures, and is descried by him in “secular” literature as well, as the completion of the mimetic cycle. Now obviously Girard could have only read so much, and picked this piece of literature as opposed to that. And his choices are telling as well as being reflected in his theory.

One important choice or rather omission is his dismissal of Buddhism – with its take on and proposed solution to the MIMETIC CYCLE. I put it in capital letters to underscore that classical Buddhism, in its voluminous literature, scriptural and otherwise, actually saw and dealt with the very problem that was of preeminent interest for Girard. Yet he chose to disregard it, even though at the end of his life he investigated sacrifice in Hinduism, and Buddhism obviously had been an anti-sacrificial response to that religion or rather slew of religions. For an anthropology staking its claim to importance based on the role of sacrifice it should certainly be worthwhile to investigate Buddhism both in terms of its religious content, as well as its societal and cultural expressions. It becomes even more indicated if one bears in mind that many Buddhists have been claiming all along that their religion is actually a psychology.  

Buddhism’s main preoccupation is actually with mimesis of desire, it could be construed as largely a psychology of defusing the mimetic cycle. How could then have it been ignored by Girard? Was he, as he has been charged, myopic in seeing only things Western as worth investigating? Or was it that he did not like the proposed solutions? I am convinced that it is the latter. Actually he did say precisely that stating that Buddhism amounted to nihilism. Still it is a great pity that it must have been that he chose to ignore it rather than investigate.

What follows is an outline of Buddhism as religion/psychology seen through the lens of those above-mentioned preeminent Girardian topics. Then I move on to a very brief outline of Buddhist history and culture to ground that religion-psychology in context, also worthy of anthropological inquiry.

Buddhism’s solution to the heart-rending mimesis of desire, which is fully acknowledged there as the most disruptive human quality, is not transcendental (or innermost) mimesis of Christ – as Girard came to propose, which insight is obviously rejected by non-Christian Girardian (they of course have the right to do so, the thought is able to stand its ground even absent this insight) – but by pointing to the possibility of doing away with mimesis altogether. That Girard would not acknowledge – or even investigate.

Now how man can escape this seemingly ineluctable predicament of imitating someone else’s desire, escalating in due course, and through well defined, inevitable stages,  to a crisis that might end up in violence? According to Buddhism two initial insights are crucial: (1) desire always produces suffering, (2) to avoid this suffering one has to realize that – as everything is impermanent, including man himself, and one’s suffering and the desire that caused it in the first place  – one does not really, or substantially, exist.

But that is only a concept and as such cannot possibly be meaningful to a desire-ridden man. How can it become relevant to man? Through a process of gaining experiential knowledge of it. How is it accomplished? Through a thorough grounding in insight meditation.

Many religion experts will admit that initial beliefs largely determine what is later confirmed by religious practices, including such as meditation/contemplation. And so it is with Buddhist practice. People are initially drawn to its tenets wanting to solve their life problems, and are able to come out of practice with stronger, experiential grounding in them. The same is true of Christianity or any other religion, unless something out of the ordinary happens to shake the initial belief system. Or, especially these days, getting weary not seeing the DESIRED results fast enough, they find something seemingly more attractive in the spiritual marketplace.

I think that the differing perceptions of suffering are crucial in a comparative analysis of the two religions. Christianity is sometimes in a caricature fashion portrayed as extolling suffering. Normally suffering is considered there as being part and parcel of human life and as such should not be avoided at all cost. But that is precisely what classical Buddhism is advocating. Moreover, and more important as well, it sees this task as feasible.

Remember now the two approaches: classical Buddhism – doing away with desire (and thus also with mimesis of desire); Christianity (according to Girard, but also to many saints and mystics; vide Thomas a Kempis’ Imitatio Christi) –  positive, or transcendental (or innermost) mimesis of Christ; the latter seemingly replete with unavoidable suffering.

But why the latter would have to be so? Because man falters along the way? Yes, but preeminently because he is delusional about himself, not (immediately) seeing that instead of following Christ he is actually puffing up his self or ego. This “exalted” self is of course taken to be false, but that is a weak consolation to a faltering man, charged with the task of constant spiritual discernment if he is to have any chance of salvation.  Man is in a double bind: desire as such has its own dynamic where it easily loses its initial goal of imitating Christ, and gets diverted to competing with and envying fellow men pursuing the same goal – if not to other, overtly sinful, pursuits.  

Can man, as classical Buddhism posits, do entirely away with desire, as opposed to appetite, and thus also with mimesis, if we assume Girard’s view of desire being entirely mimetic? Even only if and when eagerly pursuing meditative practices ostensibly designed to accomplish that? Let us see what state-of-the-art neuroscience has to say on that.

Obviously no neuroscientific study has addressed precisely this problem. Yet many studies have tangentially touched upon it, to the extent that it is at least possible to somehow reflect on, rather than fully investigate, the subject.  

What needs to be addressed first of all is whether the concept of mimesis can be construed as bearing only on desire. On the one hand, that is where Girard’s thought seems to limit itself. On the other, neuroscience posits that mirror neurons, which are operational if not indispensable in any mimesis, are also involved in the mechanism of empathy. And that is where Buddhism seems to have been compelled to step back from positing a fully quality-less self, that is no-self, as man’s proximate goal striven for in meditation – by exhorting him to cultivate empathy-based loving-kindness in that same meditation where one is supposed to be gaining insight into one’s impermanent, immaterial “no-self.”

How can this be made consistent? Is there practically possible a “pure,” essentially atomistic, Buddhist approach? Certainly neuroscience might be of help, allowing any concept of “self” to be fleshed out if not corroborated or refuted. What immediately becomes evident is that equipped with evolution-evolved mirror neurons, interdividual man cannot help being social, even in his striving to avoid seemingly negative evolution-built-in mechanisms.

Now on top of the layers of the brain evolved earlier in evolution – the reptilian, then the limbic or emotional brain – there is the cerebrum where most mirror neurons seem to be located, apparently in both the left and right hemisphere of the brain. When triggered they in turn link with and activate other neurons and systems, many of them located in those older parts of the brain. And that may result in atavistic behavior that moral man would not necessarily be proud of.

I assume here that in not so distant a future neuroscience will be able to flesh out the bicamerality of the human brain. And so while referring to existing studies, I allow myself now to speculate based on this assumption. What follows then is my take on what plausibly happens in the two approaches: the Buddhist and  non-Buddhist, including the Christian Christ-mimesis.

There are studies (referred to by, e.g., Daniel Siegel and Iain McGilchrist) that indicate that the phenomenon of empathy involves mostly mirror neurons located in the right brain, which is long known as holistic and creative, as opposed to the left brain’s analytic as well as routine-enabling function. It is thus entirely plausible that when the initial empathy “degenerates” into or is cross-wired with desire to imitate one’s fellow man what is involved then is predominately left brain’s mirror neurons. This cross-wiring must become even more pronounced with mimesis of, as Girard posits, envy-based desire devolving into rivalry and especially when it becomes violent. Parts of the "older" brain fired then are not the ones that would be fired with pure empathy.

One thing seemingly being successfully dealt with when one gets involved headlong in the mimetic cycle is the problem of suffering. Any nascent experience of suffering can here be apparently overcome through a stronger involvement in the cycle – more adrenaline flowing, a clearly set goal of pursuit. No need to look at suffering at this initial stage. A logical reflection that it might come later as an unfortunate result of this involvement is pushed aside by an expectation of attaining to the goal, or made entirely impossible in that hyped-up state.

Suffering aside, on the mimetic rollercoaster one is able all the more easily to employ resources of the left hemisphere – its verbalizing and justifying function, in the absence of empathy. Which amounts to total blindness, not only emotional: one actually does not see one’s fellow man; instead it is a construct without a face and lacking proportions or any human qualities, gradually yet more and more quickly becoming reduced to the status of pure obstacle. Envy has given way to resentment, then to hatred. Scapegoating is possible given conducive social conditions.

Seemingly nothing new here. Yet the reflection or, partly, speculation as to the role of the respective hemispheres and mirror neurons is truly shedding new light. On top on any scientific explanation it is also able to provide a new approach based on meaningful METAPHOR.

Now in a religious or spiritual approach to self-transformation any such metaphor might be very helpful and for some people outright crucial, as reinforcing beliefs held initially. Nay, transporting one onto a higher spiritual plane, one consistent with those beliefs yet much richer and more meaningful.

And so classical Buddhism-advocated insight meditation that is expected to gain insight (or reinforce the held belief, as many postulate) into man’s basic impermanence and substantial nonexistence, is nevertheless expected to be supplemented by an attitude of loving-kindness toward everybody and everything that comes within man’s purview during that meditation, and, indeed, beyond it.  While it might at first seem illogical, it makes sense based on contemporary knowledge of the brain, because it fosters right-brain holistic approach to oneself and all else, as indicated above. Otherwise the meditator would open himself to the  instigations of his left brain and would easily fall prey to a sinister mimetic cycle of desire. 

So what could be a response in those terms of contemplative Christians advocating imitatio Christi? And, on the other hand, is it not essentially and practically love that is being stressed by the Buddhists, those proverbial nihilists, as put down not only by Girard, but also by St. John Paul II, among many other Christian heavy-weights? Is not God in (or, of) Christianity – love?

As unfortunate as those pronouncements are, we should nevertheless see and appreciate what imitatio Christi imbuing Christian contemplation implies in those same terms applied to Buddhist insight meditation.

On the one hand, the contemplative is reaching for an abundance beyond compare, so any danger of the spiritual process devolving into a vicious scarcity-fed mimetic cycle is nullified, or at least reduced to a minimum. (That might happen when imitation instead of focusing on Christ, is centered on the teacher or guide; the same danger lurks for guru-imitating Buddhists, though.)

On the other hand, the only way to actually imitate Christ in contemplation is quickly found out to consist in emptying oneself of any “self” one may have constructed as a vehicle of contemplation, or virtuous living, for that matter. In undergoing Christ-like kenosis spurred on only by love of and for Christ, which two facets are in due course intuited as  the same thing, the love that must of necessity embrace one’s fellow humans, including one’s enemies, as well as the whole universe.

In my opinion it is helpful to hold in one’s quest for Christian contemplation onto the guiding metaphor of no-self, which actually is “shorthand” for “kenosis unto nothing but Christ in place of self.” And just as Christ’s kenosis is for eternity imbued with forgiveness and love, so is one to hope will in due course be the case with one’s contemplation; the whole transformative process duly grounded in faith.  

Is it all that different from Buddhist insight-loving-kindness meditation? Allowed by brain plasticity, in both cases the mimetic cross-wiring has to be undone so that man can be emptied of his many a time culturally reinforced at least if not acquired mimetic mechanisms. Man is actually shorn of self in the process. Any guiding metaphor of self in this approach other than no-self would just be standing in the way of nearing this ever elusive target. By the way, the respective belief systems remain, resulting in the outcome being described in differing terms. But that must not be viewed as a real obstacle to mutual understanding, respect and kindness.

Now, what about Girard? Why did he choose not to delve into this seemingly illuminative approach and insights to problems he investigated? Only distaste for the apparent nihilism? He actually alluded at least once that he himself was “very mimetic,” so he may have not wanted to investigate an approach apparently denying any utility to mimesis instead of trying to transform it.

Yet had he done so, he would have found that Buddhist approach not only can be viewed as having started with an “innocent self-sacrificing scapegoat” to reveal the scapegoat mechanism for what it was, but also was arguably much less productive of scapegoats during its more than slightly longer history, as compared to Christianity.

That “innocent self-sacrificing scapegoat” was (is) man sacrificing his “self” instead of pumping it up to the point of creating mimetic rivalry and conflict resulting in violence and the scapegoat, as has been the case with the Christian and now post-Christian world. Such sacrifice is actually hardly more than metaphoric or psychological. Stressing and employing non-sacrificial and nonviolent means of pursuing peace has always been of utmost significance. And those monks who chose to protest against injustice or “imperialist” incursion by self-immolation made sure that it was nonviolent to anybody else, while also trying to maintain equanimity of mind and heart that would shield them from any resentment or hatred they might be feeling toward their perceived oppressors (Vietnam), while public peace meditation gatherings manage to  rally tens of thousands of people in the public square (Thailand). Buddhism has always been totally anti-sacrificial, to the point that some purists had insisted on refraining from cooking due to its alleged association with sacrifice. And if Buddhism is considered other-worldly or “atomistic,” one had better look again: beggar-monk communities are willingly supported by communities at large, while in turn receiving spiritual advice and guidance from the monks (Sri Lanka, Thailand).

Now Buddhism as a political force came into being with Ashoka, a III century BCE Indian emperor who converted to that religion having waged a bloody war of conquest, crushed by the inflicted suffering. While spreading Buddhism and its dharma he subsequently managed to introduce peace  and rule of law as well as social and even animal welfare programs (he banned Vedic animal sacrifices) to his unified empire. He  had many pillars erected across his empire, inscribed with his edicts meant also to spread Buddhist dharma, with alphabetic writing being spread as well and Buddhist culture being solidified.  

Buddhism in India fell on hard times especially in the wake of Islamic conquests as well as resurging Hinduism, and virtually disappeared there by the XI century CE (though some pockets survived much longer.) Yet not before it had spread to many adjacent and far away countries which, leavened by its message, managed to evolve rich Buddhist cultures of their own that managed to survive if not thrive as opposed to in its cradle. And a revival Buddhist movement in India started in the mid-1950s springing from a perception that Buddhism was the only way for the Untouchables to escape their systemic scapegoating and to gain equality.

Today many Buddhist countries experience certain phenomena seemingly not in keeping with their religious traditions. Colonialism has been blamed by some commentators as having put its sinister stamp on them, while others ascribe their apparent lack of vitality and social malaise precisely to Buddhism itself. It is true that in some countries the situation looks (or just recently looked) rather bleak: Sri Lanka is still licking wounds following a devastating civil war between the Buddhist Sinhalese and Hinduist Tamils, while some Myanmar Buddhist monks are reported to be leading the persecution of that country’s Rohingya Moslem minority.  

Those facts and examples, which I gleaned mostly from countries of Theravada Buddhism (i.e., deriving from and based on its classical variety), are of course of interest to historians, political scientists and religion comparatists but might or even should be also to anthropologists, and especially so to those of a Girardian bent. When combined with the seeming relevance and importance of Buddhist religion and psychology to Girardian thought, Buddhism in all its aspects makes all the more powerful a case for the need to be investigated from a mimetic theory perspective. There might be significant insights gained also for comparative social sciences when results of studies focusing on a long-time ostensible societal devaluation, if not advocated suppression, of mimetic desire are in.