The Reality of Karma: No Superstition Required

                To many, karma represents an ethereal bank account of sorts, a spiritual savings program, if you will.  One makes deposits in the account, expecting to withdraw exactly what is contributed, perhaps with a little interest tacked on.  If you put in good karma, you will get good karma back, with the same being said of putting in bad karma.  It is also seen by some as a balancing weight, bringing to each person a level of suffering that directly corresponds with the suffering they have caused others.  This idea seems to have a lot in common with phrases of conventional wisdom, such as, “What goes around comes around.”  There are a number of statements similar to this one, all expressing the common idea that “bad” people will eventually get what’s coming to them, even if it’s in the next life.  

According to a direct translation of karma from the Sanskrit (or the Pali version kamma), it means action, work, or deed.  It is also used to refer to the consequences of these actions or deeds.  The use of this word and its definitions are as dynamic and numerous as the various religious and philosophical groups that use it.  Be they Hindus, Jains, Theravada Buddhists, Zen priests, or otherwise, all have similar, but essentially different uses of the word.  Part of the confusion apparently stems from another Sanskrit word, kriya, whose meaning is closely linked to, and often confused with that of karma.  

                 Most of these groups associate karma directly with the afterlife, death, and rebirth (into samsara).  While there are many metaphysical ideas associated with the idea of karma, the current essay will deal, instead, with the dryer, more mundane aspects of karma that most of us are familiar with and dealing with in common, human experience.  More importantly, these are the aspects of karma that are observable, and therefore, feasibly testable, at least in the form of “Gedanken,” or thought experiment.  As such, we will almost exclusively be referring to karma as a succinct idea (i.e. cause and effect with regard to intent), instead of using less specific definitions, such as those referring to karma as a system of theoretical metaphysics and such.  No claims are made here regarding the merit of one definition over another, only that the simpler definition of the two is really the only one that meaningfully bears the type of logical analysis that is to follow.

                German Indiologist, Wilhelm Halbfass, attempts to clarify the issue through an exploration of the relationship between two ideas, kriya, and karma.  Kriya might be viewed as the habitual behavior that, step by step, leads to karma, being defined here as the actions being executed as a result of kriya.  It could also be said that this definition of karma would include the intent behind this executed action.   According to this view, we still have a polarized worldview, with good behavior leading to good karma, and bad actions leading to bad karma.  This definition, along with most other definitions of karma, necessarily involves a concept of ethics, consequences, and rebirth. 

                Apart from any perceived or actual consequences, karma is almost always associated with causation, or causality.  This implies karmic effects that are apart from the ethical implications associated with using the word “consequences.”  Here we could say that executed actions, and even intentions alone, affect the lives of the taker of these actions, as well as those around them.  There is an implication that like deeds lead to like effects.  This statement exists outside ethical claims.  Like deeds, and like effects, cannot, necessarily be equated directly with value judgments of good and bad.   To illustrate, say there is a person that, through their action and intention, causes another person to suffer.  Judgments of ethical value aside, if like deeds have like effects, one would reasonably assume that a similar amount of suffering will be experienced by the causer of suffering.  What doesn’t necessarily follow, however, is the idea that suffering can be neatly categorized into the two polar groups of good or bad.  According to the monist groups using this word, such as many schools of Buddhism, good and bad only imply dualism or duality, and are therefore a completely illusory aspect of human phenomenological experience.  This issue will be explored further, later in the article.

                There is a passage in the Upanishads that is often cited in association with karma and kriya.  Brihadaranyaka Upanishad 4.4.5-6:

                “Now as a man is like this or like that, according as he acts and according as he behaves, so will he be; a man of good acts will become good, a man of bad acts, bad; he becomes pure by pure deeds.”

                Any translated work deserves in depth study of the language in which it was originally written.  It becomes pertinent to inquire about the words being translated into the English words "good," and "bad."  Let us assume that "good" and "bad," as they are used in this passage, don’t necessarily equate to righteousness and evil.  Without doing a linguistic study, we can still focus on the first part of the passage, as it is less ambiguous as well as being devoid of terminology that might imply any value judgments.

“ . . .as a man is like this . . . according as he acts . . . behaves, so will he be . . . “

                The first notable feature of this passage is an apparent progression. There is a chronological, sequential, cause-and-effect relationship between the statements being made.  What a man “will be” first depends upon prior conditions, namely how he acts and behaves.  As such, the passage, in this regard, seems to illustrate the habitual nature of human behavior, with what a man “will be,” or just “being,” described as an inevitable outcome of action and behavior.  This would seem to go along soundly with Halbfass’s claims above.  One might look at the initial, habit-forming, actions and behaviors as kriya.  Just as karma, here, is referred to as the result of kriya, the word, “being,” as the result of action, would follow logically as corresponding to karma, assuming the premise to be correct.  If we can equate a state of “being," to Halbfass’s idea of karma, we would be including not just the resultant state of habitual behavior, but the intention behind it as well. 

               The importance of this intention cannot be overstated.  It becomes clear when one considers the simple scenario of being shoved aside in a crowd.  Most would agree that, though initial responses to being shoved are likely similar, responses will vary drastically depending on any knowledge of the intention behind the shove.  One is far less likely to become angry or emotionally upset if shoved by accident.  Even if, instead of accident, the shove was the result of a hurried, if careless, rush to somewhere important, like the toilet, it isn’t likely to cause much more than irritation.  On the other hand, shoving someone in this manner with conscious, directed intention, is almost certainly going to result in a verbal altercation, if not an outright fist fight.  While the likely hood of the occurrence of an altercation probably varies from place to place, based on a number of factors,  it should be safe to surmise that being shoved on purpose like this is universally unappealing to every member of the human race.  Intention, as we can see, is vastly important when considering karma. 

If kriya leads to karma, as in the manner described above, the idea picks up another layer without adding too much complexity.  Kriya, being a person’s conscious action, inevitably leads to karma.  Before most behaviors become exceedingly habitual, a certain amount of conscious effort is required to make them habitual.  It follows, albeit conditionally, that this conscious effort becomes inextricably linked to the habitual behavior it eventually leads to.  Indeed, one might consider such practiced intention as being habitual behavior by itself.  It can, at the least, be referred to as habitual thinking.  Actions and behaviors with intention (i.e. kriya), lead to a state of “being,” or habitual behavior, habitual thought, and intention behind these habits (i.e. karma).   In light of this, it would still be accurate to say that we suffer the karma of our actions.  It would only require a subtle shift in framework of thought to see this karma, this habitual thinking and doing, as the inevitable consequence of our actions, our kriya.  This is a powerful example of the human experience of cause and effect. 

         In this sense, karma seems to be practically inevitable.  We cannot escape our karma without escaping our inherently habitual thinking and acting.  That leaves us with the only option of working with our karma in its current state, whatever it happens to looks like. The most important implications of this subtle shift pertain to what we have been referring to as good and bad karma.  Here we would say that accumulating “good” karma is nearly the same as developing “good” habits of thought and conduct.  The payout, or the inevitable consequence of intentionally developing what one perceives as good habits, comes when the karma, the habitual action and driving intent from which that action stems, is working effortlessly behind the scenes.  Dental care provides an excellent instantiation.  After having to force oneself to the bathroom sink for brushing as a youngster (kriya), the practice of regular brushing will eventually become a habit, with the intention of maintaining oral health.  The karma comes in when you realize that you’ve been brushing twice a day, automatically, even unconsciously, for years, while the intent driving the action remains the same.  This “good” karma of effortlessly maintaining one’s dental health, and all the benefits that come with it, are the direct and inevitable result of intentionally developing “good” karma through the guided efforts of kriya.  It is difficult to criticize such a position, as it is likely, at the very least, a useful stepping stone towards awakening. 

Ultimately, however, the true goal of awakening transcends all habitual thinking and behavior, favoring instead a state of immediate, present clarity.  This ideal state of present clarity is, by definition, unfettered by any conditioning imposed upon it by ourselves or society.  The masters, rather than working to accumulate “good” karma, work to accumulate as little karma as possible.  A Zen priest once said that his endeavor was to be truly invisible, to pass through this existence with as little impact on it as possible.  This only works if it goes both ways.  One cannot expect to minimize one’s impact on this existence if the impact of existence on one’s mind cannot also be minimized.  The mirror pond and the polished mirror, both like the perfectly clear mind, have the ability to accurately reflect any image set before them without being permanently changed in any way.  

God, Logic, and Zen. Logic defeats the God fallacy, Zen disarms the subjectivity of human logic, and God vanquishes the apparent nihilism of modern, existential Zen.

               This one is a bit of a ramble, so please forgive my apparent lack of organized thought.

Is it possible to believe in an idea of "God," without accepting the dogmatic, religious, often superstitious worldview that frequently comes with the package?  Must we be forced to choose between such limiting and apodictically certain ontologies as Fundamentalism and Atheism?  Can we only hope to ever aspire to the likes of Richard Dawkins or Billy Graham?  Or, shall we take a rain check on the argument, valuing some sense of easy ignorance over the effort required to more fully understand the question, and in turn, the answer?

Consider the weight of an electron.  It is constant.  The same holds for many things, like the strong and weak nuclear forces, the pull of gravity, and inertia.  They are all measurable and constant, even if the consistency lies only in the fact that relativity is consistent and measurable.  Our senses tell us there are rules to this place.  Of course, the existence of rules doesn't necessarily imply the existence of a rule-maker.  Let us explore this idea with a logical analysis of the famous Watchmaker argument. 

One intelligent design argument states that if one were to find a watch out in the wilderness, we would assume, due to it's relative complexity when compared to its surroundings, that there is indeed an intelligent designer, a watch-maker.  Surely something so complex could never have arisen by chance out there in the woods all alone.  Therefore, if life/the universe is incomprehensibly more complex than a watch, we must also assume that there is a creator of life/the universe, just as there must also be a watch-maker.    

While it has gained more recent popularity during the modern Creationist/Intelligent design revival, this argument, in various forms, is older than the Theory of Evolution itself.  (In a future post, I'll explain why Evolution is referred to as a theory, and why scientific theories, by definition, are highly credible.)  First, we'll talk about how David Hume approached this problem in his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion.

Hume was working with a different form of the argument, though the logic is the same.  Instead of a watch, Hume spoke of a house.  A house, being complex and orderly in nature, requires a designer and builder.  Life/the universe, being much more complex, must therefore also require a designer, a builder.  You can see how it's essentially the same argument.  For the sake of clarity and modern relevance, I'll use the form involving a watch for the remainder of the discussion.

Hume, while not specifically naming it so, identifies the informal, logical fallacy of false analogy.  The argument also subtly, yet simultaneously, commits the fallacies of hasty generalization and the fallacy of accident.  Lastly, the argument is a form of self-defeating statement.  Analysis of the language follows. 

It is a false analogy to compare a watch with life and/or the universe that way.  Hume argues that complexity and apparent purpose alone are insufficient premises for drawing a designer conclusion.  Rather, we assume the presence of a watchmaker not based on complexity, but based on some fundamental, if rudimentary, understanding of exactly how watches are made.  The same cannot be said of life/the universe.  Here is the fallacy of accident, where a rule that applies more generally is applied to a specific case it was not intended to apply to.  To assume the presence of a creator is to assume some fundamental understanding of how universes are made, and that they require the input of intellectual activity.  Considering we know nothing at all about the process of universe creation, it does not logically follow with any necessity that there must be a creator.  The fallacy of hasty generalization is committed in that the rock in an atypical example of natural things, and therefore makes a poor standard of judgement for the natural world in general, which is what is ultimately being questioned here.

Finally, the statement defeats itself in a very important way.  One might even apply the fallacy of begging the question.  The argument seems to be comparing the complexity of the watch with its natural surroundings, citing, specifically, a rock, and using this rock as a base-line representative of simplicity in nature.

Paley puts it like this: " . . .suppose I pitched my foot against a stone and were asked how the stone came to be there; I might possibly answer, that, for anything I knew to the contrary, it had lain there forever: nor would it perhaps be very easy to show the absurdity of this answer."  He goes on, " . . . suppose I had found a watch upon the ground . . .Every indication of contrivance, every manifestation of design, which existed in the watch, exists in the works of nature; with the difference, on the side of nature, of being greater or more, and that in a degree which exceeds all computation."

He uses the specific case of a rock.  Rocks are complicated enough to warrant an entire field of fully developed science, with several subdisciplines.  It further stands to reason that virtually any other example in this case doesn't apply to the argument the same way.  Things as simple as the moss on that rock, the tree it was under, and the bacteria clinging to its surface are exponentially more complicated than any watch.  Basically, the necessity of the watchmaker's presence in the presence of a watch is supported by citing the watch's higher level of complexity as compared to natural objects, which are arguably more complex.  We find, through logical analysis of the language, that two conflicting premises are being cited to support the same conclusion, namely that A) a watch found in nature couldn't get there by itself due to its complexity B) Natural things, being less complex, got there by themselves C) Nature, being more complex than a watch, must have a designer.

When analyzing these types of fallacies, specifically ones of relevance, an alternative conclusion to the erroneous one drawn by the original arguer should be apparent.  Such is the case here.  By the line of reasoning in the above paragraph, you can easily support the opposite conclusion.  A) Nature, being much more complex than watches, got there by itself.  B)  Comparing the relative simplicity of the watch with the mind-bending complexity of biological systems in nature leads one to conclude that, C) If nature got there by itself, and it is more complex than a watch by orders of magnitude, it follows logically that a watch could indeed get there by itself, free of an intelligent agent.

It takes some work, but this type of reasoning is highly relevant to the original question I posed at the top of this article.  Before we can answer this question, however, we need to qualify our statements. Part of the issue lies with the limited conception of God as an "intelligence."   When most people talk about the existence of God, they are almost always referring to the Judeo-Christian archetype of a masculine, father-like, creating intelligence, exhibiting human traits such as jealousy, anger, and self-gratification from completed tasks.

What else could "God," possibly mean?  "God," is found in the infinite possibility of fractal structures.  "God," is found in the ability to restrain oneself in a moment of anger.  "God," is found when sitting still in silence.  "God," is found both on, and in, the toilet.  "God," is found right here, right now, not there, not then.  "God," is found in the paradox of experiencing an objective reality of energy and mass from the subjective framework of the senses and the mind.

               Is this starting to sound like some metaphysical mumbo jumbo?

A Zen master, in response to a question about the existence/nature of God, said, "There is no God, and He is always with you."

This appears to be more of that self-defeating non-sense we dealt with above. Is it?  At the risk of further contradicting myself, I will say it is, and then again it is not.  If the universe really is devoid of apparent distinction, as is claimed by both physicists and Eastern holy men alike, and if the duality we experience is just an illusion created by our minds, then distinctions such as "I," and "God," become meaningless outside the context of that limited, subjective experience.  If all is one, then there most certainly is no God, at least apart from myself and everything else, and if there is no real way of separating myself from God, I can no sooner get away from God than I can from myself, therefore, there is no God, and he is always with you. In another sense, if God truly is a subjective experience unique to each of us and our perceptions, then truly, there is no God, only individual subjective experience of God.  Subjective experience is a fundamental truth of life, so, therefore, He is always with you.

Ultimately, the clear majority of us as a species could use a long over-due frameshift in paradigm.  The idea of having to choose between rational, logical thought, and a very real, ongoing experience of what is perceived of as the divine, is a false dichotomy.  No need to pick one at the exclusion of the other. Indeed, the universe opens up and becomes more vibrant when studying religion alongside philosophy and science, successfully reconciling our emotional and irrational humanity with the astringent, objective sterility so highly sought after in the realms of science.

The important question isn't so much about the existence of God as it is about the nature and actual definition of God.  There is almost certainly no objective truth to the anthropomorphic deities that occupy our works of legend and myth, and still, they are a very real part of some people's subjective experience.

I know that as someone raised in a Judeo-Christian household, in a primarily Judeo-Christian culture, I tend to think of religious affairs as static, never changing antiquities of the past, a bunch of people and happenings so far removed by time and culture from my own place in the world that they require formal education in language, culture, and history to make any real sense of.  It's time for a shift into the present.  Religion is a human activity, invented by humans for humans, and just like every other human activity, religion is incredibly dynamic and subject to being changed to suit the needs of those practicing it.  According to the New Testament of the Christian Bible, John the Baptist came out of the wilderness urging people to repent.  Why?  " . . . because the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand."  he said.  Not in some other place at some other time, like that place in the clouds you see after death.

Heaven.  Here.  Now.  Act IMMEDIATELY, because this is a limited time offer. What do you think?