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Damn it. Philosophy of Religion has always been a whipping boy to the biy boy of Philosophy: Metaphysics. Do you want to make it big with philosophy, specifically? Try metaphysics. There are many successful philosophers of religion, but metaphysics is even more prestigious. Why?

Metaphysics masters two things: Logic and language. Logic and language are the two bases on which higher thinking is nurtured for the first principles of things, including abstract concepts such as being, knowing, substance, cause, identity, time, and space. The interesting thing is, you have logicians (philosophers who specialize in logic) and philosophers of language (people commonly say Wittgenstein is from the branch of language). Logicians fall on their feet because they’re not always masters at the philosophy of language, which in turn affects their logic. And philosophers of language do not specialize in logic either. But by definition, metaphysicians must master both logic and language in order to deal with abstraction, hence they are the peak of the pyramid above logic and language.

Philosophers of religion are down there with philosophers of science, art, literature, history, mathematics… maaan, that blows.

I still think philosophy of religion is the most interesting branch of philosophy, however.

This article dismantles all their bullshit. Read it and be free. It was written a while ago, but serves as an important lesson to all who would propagate propaganda in the name of self-righteous compassion.

“The British athletes are actually demanding the ‘freedom to be morally outraged’. They want the ‘right’ to use the opportunity of a visit to China to wear a Free Tibet t-shirt or to state their concern about pollution or to join Spielberg and Farrow and others in exaggerating the crisis in Darfur in order to get their moral rocks off. In this sense, they’re actually dragging free speech’s name through the mud, turning it into a political weapon that can be used to take potshots at foreign regimes. Their outraged reaction against their contracts gives the impression that illiberal attitudes to free speech are a peculiarly Eastern thing; in calling on British Olympics officials to reject the contracts and rewrite them – in the name of British fair play and liberty – the athletes are conniving in the mad idea that Britain is a free country and therefore it has the right and the responsibility to lecture the Chinese about their attitudes and affairs. Such a paternalistic and partial use of the banner of ‘free speech’ will do no favours whatsoever for either the campaign for free speech in Britain or the campaign for freedom and autonomy in China.

Laughably, some of the gagged athletes are comparing themselves to Tommie Smith and John Carlos, the black American runners who raised their black-gloved fists and bowed their heads during the playing of the American national anthem at the 1968 Games. Smith and Carlos made a serious protest at a time of violent conflict over civil rights within their own country, when an armed oppositional movement – the Black Panthers – was fighting under the banner of Black Power. And they paid an extremely heavy price: they were effectively barred from sports for the rest of their lives. To compare this brave and dramatic stand to the hurt feelings of a largely unknown badminton player who wants to express his pity for poor pathetic Africans while in China, and who would do so with the full backing of Hollywood, American and European liberals, most Western governments and a mish-mash of armed rebel groups in Darfur… that only highlights the extent to which this event in the Orientalist Olympics, bashing China over its gagging contracts, is driven by bloated moral pomposity.”

“Apparently the Chinese are far too obsessed with self-sacrifice and winning at any cost. During an earlier Olympics contest, one commentator said: ‘When entertainment requires this kind of self-sacrifice, our values – for willingly watching and participating – and the values of the Chinese are severely out of line with basic human standards.’ (13) Notice how even the discussion of Chinese attitudes to sport, as well as their attitude to Darfur, focuses on their alleged inhuman depravity.

There’s no doubt that young sportsmen and women in China are put under extraordinary pressure. Yet even this desire to win, in a competition in which winning is the only thing that counts, is talked up in the Orientalist Olympics as evidence of China’s warped ways. The Chinese are seen as unemotional, unforgiving, as peculiarly arrogant. Again, this is an old prejudice that is being rehabilitated on the back of the Olympic Games. As Robert L Gee points out in his book Orientals: Asian Americans in Popular Culture, China-bashers in the past talked about ‘Chinese arrogance’ and ‘Chinese aloofness’ (14). Back then, people saw ‘Chinese arrogance’ in their snooty ‘Yellowfaces’ (15); today it is glimpsed in the robotic automatons forcing young children to become winning machines.

Perhaps Western observers and athletes are making excuses for themselves early. If they lose, it won’t be down to their own lack of training or determination - which could be seen as products of the West’s distinctly PC and un-Chinese ‘everyone’s a winner’ attitude to competitive sports - but rather down to the strange powers of the Eastern weirdos.”

Gold medal winner: BBC TV’s Newsnight, which recently sent a reporter to stare in horror at young Chinese children training to become gymnasts of the future. Much to Newsnight’s disappointment, however, the kids seemed to be enjoying themselves.”

Pull your heads out of your asses, BBC. Your appalling coverage of the Olympics is even more slanted than my eyes. You’re the reason I stopped visiting your website for news, as hilarious as that sounds. In fact, I’ve boycotted BBC.

Postscript: This post is meant to be scathingly humorous as well as highlighting some very important issues. If you’re a PC, ‘Free Tibet’, effeminate, non-Vajrayana Buddhist white guy (have you even any idea how ridiculous that sounds?), you are obviously my enemy.

“Religions should be seen in a Marxist light of class relations where possible, because this illuminates the various tendencies within the religion. For instance Islam was created by a tribe living in a rather marginal land, this explains their tendency for insurgency, bringing down empires, etc. Hinduism should be seen in the context of a social class system, it is designed to keep people satisfied with their social position. Buddhism (like Jainism) is intended to eliminate personal angst, it is in my view a rebellion by the aristocracy against the theocracy (the Brahmins), so it serves the needs of the aristocracy in both directions - keeping the masses quiet and keeping the priests under control. Christianity is an anarchist plot against empire - this is why it counterposes the Kingdom of God against the Kingdom of Man (e.g. Rome). Judaism is a tribal binding myth - identity is served over common sense in many cases. Taoism is I think a nature religion, and so is Shinto for the most part.”

Perhaps this way of seeing the origins of religions will help us understand their trends in the modern world better? Of course, this is only part of the story. I would personally add that Buddhism not only wants to keep the masses quiet, but of course, to keep them happy. Only then can personal angst be alleviated.

I am convinced (ironically) that people are generally not stupid or unreflective; they are merely dogmatic and possessed of unmerited certainty. People who are not philosophers (and even some philosophers) have a natural and not so admirable yearning for certainty. I can understand its necessity in early childhood, that is, the sense of certainty and security that comes from the parents with whom the child will feel safe, protected and loved. Unfortunately, as James Fowler so hilariously implied in regards to the stages of religious faith, most people don’t move beyond the childhood stage in philosophical dialectic either. See, fundamentalist religion, extremist politics, or racism are all symptomatic of dogmatic inclinations. Have you ever met a KKK member who shrugged and said, “Well, I could be wrong”?

Racism is a curious issue because self-hate is also a twisted form of a desire for certainty and security. For example, there is quite a bit of self-hate on part of Asians raised in Western society (or having lived in the West for as long as they remember). In particular, they internalize the images of Asians by whites and not only begin to act like that, but hate themselves for it. Having witnessed this phenomenon personally, and amongst Asian females mostly, I admit that it is quite curious (since blacks and Hispanics don’t exhibit this self-racism), because self-hate is also grounded in certainty; in a dogmatic belief that one is inherently inferior to someone else, and the more one copies that superior human, the further one will travel in life. Certainty, therefore, is dogmatism not only in things that are good, but things that are bad as well.

And what of my own certainty? I’m no nationalist. There is no specific pride in my Chinese origins (there are many who a proud to be Chinese because they are of Chinese blood. I’m not one of them). But nor would I prefer to be American, or Spanish, or Japanese. Why?

If I wished I was of another origin, that would imply I thought something about me was missing as an Asian Chinese. And because I am a human being as it is, nothing is missing to begin with.

Still, there’s the cultural biases, the negativity of the media and society that continues to favour the dominant class (white males), the risk of internalizing these negative images, etc., but if I copped out on my current humanity simply because of these unscrupulous realities, doesn’t that make me a coward? Doesn’t that make the Chinaman worse than the limey?

But enough about sociology and Western society. What of my lifeblood, religion? I am not certain if everything in the Buddhist tradition should necessarily be adhered to dogmatically for all eternity. In fact, some of it I think is kind of strange. But as William James wrote, the most fulfilling religious experiences come from a person who is of a ’sick soul’. The sick soul is someone who sees something fundamentally wrong with the world; potentially leading to depression and a view that evil saturates existence. James believed that the only way for a sick soul to cure itself is to undergo a powerful mystical experience, or religious conversion. He argues these so-called “twice born” souls turn out to be the most healthy in the end, since they have seen life from both perspectives.

The only certain ‘certainty’ I have, then, is that when I was young, I possessed a ’sick soul’. I am grateful for that, because it led me to a more authentic life of experiencing life and religion.

Oh, and the certainty of the benevolent aid of the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas… that’s a pretty powerful certainty of mine too. ;-)

Postscript: I’ve also noticed a disturbing trend in which many Asian guys are posting tons of photos of themselves and the white girls they’ve dated around various sites. As proud as I am that my relations with white girls, is this really necessary on our part? Do we really need to play the part of the ‘underdog’, or can we be satisfied with our identity, and our identity alone?

Today I was forced to relinquish my blog’s title of Buddha Warrior. That title now belongs to Thich Nu Khanh Thao.

Full link here.

“Those unfamiliar with the ethics of martial arts might think that a contact sport is not conducive to the life of a Buddhist nun. But 32-year-old nun Thich Nu Khanh Thao (Buddhist name) would disagree.

Thao teaches Shaolin to 80 students at the Viet Nam National Buddhism Academy, the top education centre for bonzes in the country. It is also the biggest in the nation, located on the top of a mountain in Ve Linh Commune, Soc Son District, 40km west of Ha Noi.

Currently 350 monks and nuns, mostly from northern provinces, are studying at the academy for a four-year course which will help them run pagodas and teach Buddhism. The course has only been available for the last five years.

Thao is also a second-year student at the school. For these last two years, she’s also been teaching shaolin.

Perfect balance

Along with all this mental work, the bonzes also need physical activities to stay in good health, says Venerable Thich Thanh An, head of the academy’s administration office. Monks and nuns need to be healthy to spread the word of Buddha, and shaolin lessons are just one of many extra activities, including football, war-of-tug, tennis and shuttlecock, he says. ‘We have three culture and sports classes. Bonzes can either do calligraphy or martial arts.’

Teen spirit

Thao was youngest of seven born to a poor farming family in Pho Trach Commune in suburban Phong Dien District, central Thua Thien-Hue Province. They moved to Central Highlands Dac Lac Province when Thao was seven.

The nun says she still vividly remembers the trips she and her family would take to the local pagoda on the first day of the month, according to the lunar calendar, and every full moon. ‘I was so impressed with the serenity of the religious ceremonies we attended, and the solemn appearance of the monks, that I decided to become a nun when I was 16,’ she says.

In 1992 Thao joined Phuoc Hue Pagoda in Da Lat City in the Central Highlands Lam Dong Province – 200km far from her home. That year she also started learning Shaolin.

‘My parents were happy with my decision to devote myself to religion,’ she says. ‘The life of a farmer is hard and my family were happy that I wanted to help save poor people from misery and sorrow.’

One way Thao found she could get closer to Buddha was through shaolin. The art involves an exercise similar to tai chi, called taijiquan, which the nun says is similar to meditation. ‘Taijiquan is good for the students here because it concentrates on breathing, which helps people improve their mental strength,’ she says.

But not everyone was happy with her methods, Thao admits. ‘I was expelled by the master of the pagoda because I kept practising shaolin even after he told me he didn’t want me to. He thought shaolin was just something men did. But after a long time, I finally managed to persuade him that it would help me in my religious life.’

Although Thao’s students are only allowed to use their hands to practise the martial art in the academy, outside the school Thao has mastered 18 weapons, including the machete, sword and spear. Her skills have earned her a white belt in shaolin, the top rank in her branch of the art.

Dawn till dusk

Thao’s typical day starts at 4am, when she and her fellow students pray to Buddha. Later in the morning she takes her class out into the yard to practise taijiquan. The nun also teaches Shaolin to students in Vinh Xuan School in Dong Anh District, 40km from the Academy, for three hours every afternoon. At night, when the grounds are quiet, she spends two hours practising her breathing exercises.

Thao’s shaolin classes are greatly appreciated by the bonzes at the academy, says fellow student, 31-year-old Nun Thich Lam Tuong. The nun runs the Noi Pagoda in Binh Luc District, Ha Nam Province, 60km south of Ha Noi. ‘I’ve been attending Thao’s classes for the last year. Like the other people studying at the academy, all the learning can be very tiring. But Shaolin really gives us a boost.’ Learning the art helps bonzes feel stronger and gives them more energy to study, Tuong says. ‘It’s a shame we don’t have much time to train.’

Even in the run-up to the exams, students are still squeezing in the time to practise shaolin. In these stressful times, shaolin is a key to help clear the mind, Thao says.”

When it comes to prospects of teaching my thoughts actually drift to a rather worrying issue: exactly how the philosophy of religion, and religion itself, will be taught in ten or so years time. The fact is that academia has only recently recovered from the ’shock’ of postmodernism, or, more accurately speaking, we still live in an academic world where we have to be far more careful about using words like ‘truth’ (whose truth?) or hermeneutics which were once taken for granted. This is a problem in all religions that thunder across all spheres of influence, from doctrine to laity practice to academic writing. Why? Because with an intense study always exposes potential problems that require rectifying, in particular to the sticky issues of tradition and relevance.

Studies in religion taught in the current period is definitely different to how it was taught in the past, and I doubt it will remain the same for long. Given that now Western universities are gradually attaining better understandings of both sides of the issues in modernity (philosophy and religion), if all goes well, one can expect a more balanced teaching curriculum that encompasses a wide base of thought that is highlighted so well in The Philosophy of Religion: A Critical Introduction by the Clack Siblings.

Religion has also moved away from hardcore philosophy into the experiential field, or more accurately, a phenomenological methodology for study. Some might argue that this is more practical, but my answer would be that to take the ’study’ of religion away from Studies in Religion isn’t a good thing. We have plenty of opportunity to practically apply religious thought outside of the academic field, whether or not we are religious. Therefore the philosophical basis for what constitutes an academic engagement of religion is its most important feature; one which allows, in the traditions of great writers of many diverse allegiances like Origen, Averroes, or Dharmakirti, to pen valuable literature that will prove invaluable to future generations of students and/or practitioners.

Therefore in some ways I am slightly conservative in marking out how exactly a Studies in Religion (or more specifically, Philosophy of Religion) course should be conducted, but in terms of content, I’m wildly liberal, positively slutty in deciding what we should study (see Clack and Clack). In particular, modernity has provided students with the opportunity to study high-level religious issues and problems which were essentially prohibited/non-existent before World War II and the 60’s era.

And even then, if I lay out the rules for ‘How one should study the Philosophy of Religion’, there are many, many ways to approach religious philosophy itself.

I will take refuge this July/August in a temple that teaches Ch’an Buddhism. Why? I was thinking about it today and I came up with several reasons:

1. It is a School of Mahayana Buddhism. In other words, it emphasizes everything I have praised with reverence on this blog: the virtuous life of a Bodhisattva; the opportunity to devote oneself to the Buddhas and Mahasattvas; the divine purpose of universal cosmic liberation; non-attachment; serenity; and paradoxically, the cleansing fires of a passion for true freedom for oneself and all other sentients.

2. It has been greatly influenced by Hua-Yen throughout its history. While all Mahayana schools owe each other credit to some extent, and many schools owe Hua-Yen intellectual cookies, Ch’an in particular has given Hua-Yen much, and vice versa. Given my intense favour of the Avatamsaka Sutra and my high regard for Hua-Yen itself, to protect Ch’an is to protect the legacy of this ‘dead’ School. And more importantly, I see the Avatamsaka as essential not only to Ch’an, but to the Mahayana movement and Buddhism itself.

3. It has undergone a process of syncretization with other Mahayana schools, hence its inherent liberality of practice, meditation and devotion. You might not know that I practice more devotional meditation and Buddha Invocations than the typical meditation that characterizes non-sectarian Buddhism. In Ch’an, this sort of non-devotional Buddhism tends to be practiced a lot too. However, this is not to say that Ch’an monks are irreligious; quite the contrary. These days Ch’an disciples will definitely recite homages to Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, as well as participating in certain rituals when necessary. Therefore not only does Ch’an provide an unspeakably vast and diverse range of religious practice, it is also tolerant of itself as it is: a syncretized movement of modern Mahayana. Indeed, this tolerance is the core of Mahayana, and hence, the core of Ch’an as well.

Learning Ch’an personally will not only allow me to continue with my devotionals, but learn the ‘analytical’ meditation formally and consistently as well.

All three reasons are ultimately aimed towards the divine purpose of the Mahayana; in other words, one could say that at its simplest level, I’m joining Ch’an simple because it is a Buddhist school!

All my young life I have struggled to bring together the devotional life of a pious human being with a philosophically sound and cosmic worldview. Since 2005, I believe that I have come one step closer to that through Buddhism.

I was a bit disillusioned today after reading a very informative essay on the sexism and racism of H.P. Lovecraft, one of the horror authors who I have always been interested in. It’s sad, because philosophically, I also nurture a belief in cosmicism because I feel humanity is indeed quite arrogant to believe they can master the universe. But, my cosmicism is nothing like Lovecraft’s; for while I believe that humanity is often too big for its own boots, I do believe in very powerful, divine, loving presences: the congregations of Bodhisattvas and Buddhas that are as numerous as the number of atoms and particles in all world-systems. Furthermore, the interconnectedness of the Dharmadatu as described in the Avatamsaka Sutra indicates that we are no more ontologically distant from the councils of Buddhas as we are human-to-human (Buddha-Nature, friends, Buddha-Nature!) I don’t want to address Lovecraft’s position on sex and women here (although let’s just say I find it equally stupid), because what I want to address is racism.

What was even more disappointing was Lovecraft’s lack of experience with the races he hated so: if you read the essay I have linked to, you’ll understand that to simply dismiss his racism as ‘characteristic’ of his era is actually not quite right; his hatred of blacks, Hispanics, Asians, etc. is truly ugly and repulsive. As an Anglophile and believing English culture to reign supreme in the world, he despised the heterogeneity of the American population and described his neighbours in his poor neighborhood as:

“monstrous and nubulous adumbrations of the pithecanthropoids and moebal; vaguely molded from some stinking viscous slime of earth’s corruption, and slithering and oozing in and on the filthy streets or in and out of windows and doorways in a fashion suggestive of nothing but infesting worms or deep-sea unnamabilites.” (SL I, 333-334)

But the most disappointing reality is that Lovecraft’s story of racism is so typical of every lower-class white man who winds up unable to find work amidst a multi-ethnic city and blames the coloured people for it. Not only that; he was completely ignorant of the non-Anglo peoples; their culture; their experiences; everything. I’ve added a part of the conclusion of the essay here:

“One of the most accurate criticisms that has been made of Lovecraft is that he was far too willing to assume a position of informed authority on subjects he had some minor knowledge of via reading or second-hand learning, but no lived experience. I feel that this is how Lovecraft’s racism can best be understood: as the ignorant blustering of a person who had few to no encounters with the races he claimed to despise, and was willing to inherit and emulate the prejudices of the culture he grew out of and sought to keep alive through his own affectations. As such, his fiction is decidedly marked by his racism, and readers are faced with the dilemma of being alternately disgusted by its crude and vitriolic aspects (as in the case of “The Street” and “The Horror At Red Hook”), and intrigued by the thematic depth and complexity it can achieve (as in “Arthur Jermyn,” “The Lurking Fear,” and “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”). The amount of work written dealing with Lovecraft’s racism is a testament not only to its presence in his fiction, but also to the attempts of readers to integrate a vitriolic hatred with the image of an otherwise brilliant and sensitive writer whose genius and impact upon the fiction of the previous century are now finally being acknowledged within academia.”

I would have thought such backwater worldviews such as Lovecraft’s would have died out in cities like Brisbane, Sydney, and American cities. It is a testament to human stubbornness that they have not. All too commonly, I encounter people who, whether overtly or covertly, express racist prejudice and racial hatred, only to find out that they haven’t even looked a black man in the eye and spoken with him. Or to find out that the most in-depth understanding they have of an Asian’s life experiences is of a crappy Hollywood stereotype that they saw at the cinema.

I break about a hundred thousand stereotypes about Asians (not intentionally). My majors at university were Philosophy and Studies in Religion, not business/commerce/maths/science. I do not follow a herd understanding of religion, nor is my understanding of spirituality the same as many Asians (and non-Asians for that matter). I prefer a much more proactive, individual, contemplative and mystic approach characteristic of my Buddhism. My English is good and (embarrassingly) better than my Chinese. In other words, Lovecraft’s hatred of non-whites struck a chord of sadness in me, because with my very own eyes, I witness the same ignorance being repeated, even in the modern society I live in. And it goes on; with no sign (yet) of stopping.

There’s much work to be done.

I have had people assume that I was born Buddhist or raised Buddhist just because I’m Asian. Nothing could be further from the truth. I barely had any real exposure to Buddhism in my youth; it wasn’t until sometime around grade 11 or 12 that I actually knew what the Four Noble Truths were. Neither did I understand what made Buddhism what it is when I was younger. Therefore my journey into Buddhism was a free choice; something that occurred after many years of studying religions and different religious beliefs around the world. I have always claimed I owe a debt to the gods of Ancient Egypt for this reason; for revealing to me one particular face of the Divine which humans have experienced. However, the truly cosmic vision of Mahayana Buddhism was too sublime an opportunity to pass up; much of my loyalty to Mahayana is due to the movement’s system of ethics and principles of applied living.

My background, really, is agnosticism, perhaps even skepticism. I’m still a pretty skeptical person today; I’m pragmatic, realistic (although not to the point of being cynical anymore); I appreciate science, and I do not buy into wild bullshit. I do not say that everything I believe is necessarily right; but I do my best to weed out all garbage from my mind. To do this, a healthy degree of critical thinking is required; to keep you on your feet and to defeat the hypocrites, liars, and oppressors of our time. Nevertheless, I do not let skepticism render me a husk of human potential. In fact, I am working on my devotional practice within the Buddhist context in order to be able to strengthen my mind’s orientation towards Guan Yin Bodhisattva. A Bodhisattva’s constant presence within one’s being will allow one to engage in purifying thoughts and activities that direct one towards the objective of universal liberation.

Therefore, I do not like thinking of myself as a skeptic anymore. Perhaps as a critical rationalist, but not as a skeptic. And I’m not 100% agnostic, since I affirm belief in the Mahayana tradition.

But how often are we 100% something? Who really believes in themselves or their ideals, their goals or the dreams 100%? Isn’t that extreme ratio for fools and fanatics? After all, the more thinking you do, the more work you realize is ahead of you.

Signing off…

I was very pleased to play a game that depicted the legendary Cao Cao in a more positive light. I remember when I played Dynasty Warriors 4 the character couldn’t stop talking about conquest, domination, ambition, destiny, blah blah blah. Basically, following the old model of Cao Cao as the foremost villain in popular Chinese literature. Many tend to forget how much he contributed to Chinese cultural progress, including numerous manuals on war, his civic and administrative capabilities, and his bright intelligence and inclusive recruitment of talented officers. It’s not surprising to me that the empire of Cao Wei was consistently the most powerful of the Three Kingdoms.

Of course, alluding to Cao Cao as a Hero of Chaos is almost obligatory, as is his ambition to conquer all of China. But I was surprised to learn that in Dynasty Warriors 6, after conquering Wu and Shu, he decided to withdraw from politics and administration. In his ending movie, he leaves the reunited Chinese nation in the hands of his subordinate officers, and proceeds to ride out of the castles, stating that the only thing China needs to be rid of is himself. His last words are, “I’ve walked the path of the conqueror. It is now time to walk the path of the heavens.” Is he going to become a recluse, I wonder?

Of course, this is all fictional. Cao Cao died long before Wei conquered Shu, and in the end, the Cao family was toppled by the Sima family (although Sima Yi had always served Cao Cao loyally - historically). It was just warming to see that Cao Cao was for once depicted as, well, maybe not a good guy, but nowhere near the villain as he was depicted as by Luo Guanzhong.

I wonder how many real Kings want to ‘walk the path of the heavens’ after they have conquered All Under Heaven?

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