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Greek Buddha: Pyrrho's Encounter with Early Buddhism in Central Asia
"Greek Buddha" shows how Buddhism shaped the philosophy of Pyrrho, the famous founder of Pyrrhonian scepticism in ancient Greece. Identifying Pyrrho's basic teachings with those of Early Buddhism, Christopher I. Beckwith traces the origins of a major tradition in Greek philosophy to Gandh?ra, a country in Central Asia and northwestern India.
Pyrrho of Elis accompanied Alexander the Great to Central Asia and India during the Graeco-Macedonian invasion and conquest of the Persian Empire in 334-324 BC, and while there met with teachers of Early Buddhism, a philosophy that Beckwith analyzes in depth. Using a range of primary sources, he systematically looks at the teachings and practices of Pyrrho and of Early Buddhism, including those preserved in testimonies by and about Pyrrho, in the report on Indian philosophy two decades later by the Seleucid ambassador Megasthenes, in the first-person edicts by the Indian king Dev?n priya Priyadar?i referring to a popular variety of the Dharma in the early third century BC, and in Taoist echoes of Gautama's Dharma in Warring States China. Beckwith demonstrates how the teachings of Pyrrho agree closely with those of the Buddha kyamuni, "the Scythian Sage." In the process, he identifies eight distinct attested philosophical schools in ancient northwestern India and Central Asia, including Early Zoroastrianism, Early Brahmanism, and several forms of Early Buddhism. Beckwith then shows the influence that Pyrrho's brand of scepticism had on the evolution of Western thought, first in Antiquity, and later, during the Enlightenment, on the great philosopher and self-proclaimed "Pyrrhonian," David Hume.
"Greek Buddha" demonstrates that through Pyrrho, Early Buddhist thought had a significant impact on Western philosophy.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published June 8, 2015
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
August 15, 2017
I jumped into this book with great enthusiasm. The main theme of the book, along with a few other tantalizing ideas, is to suggest that the philosophy of the Hellenic philosopher Pyrrho (the 1st sceptic) was directly affected by the philosophy of early Buddhism. Indeed, author Beckwith would have us believe that written records by Pyrrho's follower, Timon of Phlius, are, in fact, the earliest written records anywhere of Buddhist thought.
Now you're probably thinking like I did when I read about this book (see blurb) that this is pretty awesome stuff. I couldn't wait to get my hands on it and was waiting at the door for the mailman.
The book is 275 pages long, including 821 footnotes, 12 endnotes, and 3 appendices. This guy is the academic's academic. He draws on a wide swath of material ranging over both Western and Indian sources. (My kind of book.) And he takes a brave stand against received knowledge. He forges his own path. I was quite impressed except that, in the final analysis, I WAS NOT CONVINCED.
I learned a great deal about both early Buddhism and early Hellenism. But I was not convinced by Beckwith's arguments. I was not convinced that Pyrrho was taught by early Buddhist monks (but almost); I was not convinced that Lautzu of Daoist fame was really Gautama (but possibly); and, I was not convinced of a myriad of other other details that played into his arguments (which I had a great time reading about).
BUT, I really enjoyed reading this. It was exciting from beginning to end. Just not convincing. (At least for me who went into the book with little knowledge of either early Buddhism or of Pyrrho.) And my 'to-read' list has expanded. If the topic seems to be interesting, get the book and read it. (And write a better review.)
Finally, I must say that I hope that, over time, Beckwith will find his own disciples who will justify his arguments and that he will be honoured as the true academic freethinker that he is. (Until then, just 3.5 stars.)
Now you're probably thinking like I did when I read about this book (see blurb) that this is pretty awesome stuff. I couldn't wait to get my hands on it and was waiting at the door for the mailman.
The book is 275 pages long, including 821 footnotes, 12 endnotes, and 3 appendices. This guy is the academic's academic. He draws on a wide swath of material ranging over both Western and Indian sources. (My kind of book.) And he takes a brave stand against received knowledge. He forges his own path. I was quite impressed except that, in the final analysis, I WAS NOT CONVINCED.
I learned a great deal about both early Buddhism and early Hellenism. But I was not convinced by Beckwith's arguments. I was not convinced that Pyrrho was taught by early Buddhist monks (but almost); I was not convinced that Lautzu of Daoist fame was really Gautama (but possibly); and, I was not convinced of a myriad of other other details that played into his arguments (which I had a great time reading about).
BUT, I really enjoyed reading this. It was exciting from beginning to end. Just not convincing. (At least for me who went into the book with little knowledge of either early Buddhism or of Pyrrho.) And my 'to-read' list has expanded. If the topic seems to be interesting, get the book and read it. (And write a better review.)
Finally, I must say that I hope that, over time, Beckwith will find his own disciples who will justify his arguments and that he will be honoured as the true academic freethinker that he is. (Until then, just 3.5 stars.)
January 9, 2024
In 650 BC horse mounted Scythians from the Caucasus region fought their way to Egypt, as allies of the Assyrians from northern Iraq. After defeat by the Medes of Iran in 600 BC the Scythians built an empire in Central Asia that reached as far as China. In 550 BC Cyrus the Great of Persia captured much of what is present day Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Afghanistan. During this period the prophet Zarathustra reformed the earlier polytheism of the Medes into the first monotheistic religion, with oppositions of good vs. evil, heaven vs. hell and truth vs. lies.
Beckwith posits that early Brahmanism adopted Persian beliefs in bodily resurrection, an everlasting soul, and the accumulation of good and bad deeds. Similar concepts in the Upanishads cannot be dated earlier than this period. He sees Buddhism as a rejection of these principles, although some were later accepted. The original teachings of the Buddha asserted there is no creator god, no self or soul, everything is impermanent and that suffering is caused by desire. By Beckwith's logic the Buddha lived sometime between 517-326 BC, the Persian and Greek invasions of India.
Dating the life of the Buddha is a challenge to historians. His name Gautama was first recorded in China around 300 BC. His epithet 'Sakyamuni' is argued by Beckwith to mean 'Sage of the Scythians' in Sanskrit. It was attested to in Gandhara by 100 BC (now Pakistan and Afghanistan) then ruled by Indo-Scythians. Darius the Great, scion of the Persian Empire, had occupied the region in 517 BC introducing Zoroastrianism and Scythian troops. Beckwith suggests the Buddha could have been a Scythian whose nomadic lifestyle may be the model for wandering asceticism.
While not adopting the Zoroastrian religion the Scythians were interested in philosophy, and were known to the Greeks. The 'Problem of the Criterion' was first attributed to a Scythian named Anarcharsis who traveled to Athens around 600 BC. He posed epistemological questions of 'what do we know?' and 'how do we know it?'. Since neither an expert nor an unskilled judge can be trusted there is no standard to decide between contending viewpoints. The problem also appeared in the Chinese philosophy of Zhuangzi, after the conquests of Alexander.
Beckwith theorizes through transliteration that Laozi, who wrote the Dao De Jing circa 500 BC, could be Chinese for Gautama, the Buddha. After the Dao was written Laozi was said to have left for the west (ie India). Around 300 BC another Chinese book was written known by its namesake Zhuangzi. It had similar concepts to early Buddhism and later Pyrrhonism in its denial of intrinsic identity and the ability to make differentiations. While speculation on Laozi is legendary Indian influences on Pyrrho were recorded from accounts made during his lifetime.
Pyrrho was a Greek philosopher alive in 326 BC. He traveled with Alexander the Great on his adventures into northwest India. Interaction with Indian philosophers led to Pyrrho's later role in Greece where he taught the causes of suffering, to be without passion and remain undisturbed. Since thought was imperfect it was impossible to know anything absolute about ethics. He urged having no views to achieve a calm existence. His legacy was a Greek exegesis of Buddhist thought. The nature of all things is impermanence, imperfection and absence of an innate self.
Pyrrho's thinking lay dormant in Europe for more than a millennium due to rejection by the Catholic church. It was revived in the Renaissance, perhaps reaching a zenith with David Hume during the Enlightenment. Hume reworked the 'Problem of the Criterion' as the 'Problem of Induction' posing a challenge to scientific inquiry. Arguing that 'we have no logical justification for believing in the truth of knowledge' (acquired by experimental science) he stated he was a 'Pyrrhonian'. Certainly epistemology has been an enduring hallmark of the modern era.
Beckwith is a professor at Indiana University who specializes in Central Eurasian Studies. He is a linguist as well as a historian teaching living and dead languages from Aramaic to Turkic and Tibetan to Chinese. There is something of old school philology in his approach. This doesn't reflect on the novelty of the ideas presented. It is a revisionist look at the influence of the Buddha in the west and east, perhaps as bold as Crone and Cook's 'Hagarism', which reconstructed early Islam. It may not have happened exactly this way, but then again it just might have.
Beckwith posits that early Brahmanism adopted Persian beliefs in bodily resurrection, an everlasting soul, and the accumulation of good and bad deeds. Similar concepts in the Upanishads cannot be dated earlier than this period. He sees Buddhism as a rejection of these principles, although some were later accepted. The original teachings of the Buddha asserted there is no creator god, no self or soul, everything is impermanent and that suffering is caused by desire. By Beckwith's logic the Buddha lived sometime between 517-326 BC, the Persian and Greek invasions of India.
Dating the life of the Buddha is a challenge to historians. His name Gautama was first recorded in China around 300 BC. His epithet 'Sakyamuni' is argued by Beckwith to mean 'Sage of the Scythians' in Sanskrit. It was attested to in Gandhara by 100 BC (now Pakistan and Afghanistan) then ruled by Indo-Scythians. Darius the Great, scion of the Persian Empire, had occupied the region in 517 BC introducing Zoroastrianism and Scythian troops. Beckwith suggests the Buddha could have been a Scythian whose nomadic lifestyle may be the model for wandering asceticism.
While not adopting the Zoroastrian religion the Scythians were interested in philosophy, and were known to the Greeks. The 'Problem of the Criterion' was first attributed to a Scythian named Anarcharsis who traveled to Athens around 600 BC. He posed epistemological questions of 'what do we know?' and 'how do we know it?'. Since neither an expert nor an unskilled judge can be trusted there is no standard to decide between contending viewpoints. The problem also appeared in the Chinese philosophy of Zhuangzi, after the conquests of Alexander.
Beckwith theorizes through transliteration that Laozi, who wrote the Dao De Jing circa 500 BC, could be Chinese for Gautama, the Buddha. After the Dao was written Laozi was said to have left for the west (ie India). Around 300 BC another Chinese book was written known by its namesake Zhuangzi. It had similar concepts to early Buddhism and later Pyrrhonism in its denial of intrinsic identity and the ability to make differentiations. While speculation on Laozi is legendary Indian influences on Pyrrho were recorded from accounts made during his lifetime.
Pyrrho was a Greek philosopher alive in 326 BC. He traveled with Alexander the Great on his adventures into northwest India. Interaction with Indian philosophers led to Pyrrho's later role in Greece where he taught the causes of suffering, to be without passion and remain undisturbed. Since thought was imperfect it was impossible to know anything absolute about ethics. He urged having no views to achieve a calm existence. His legacy was a Greek exegesis of Buddhist thought. The nature of all things is impermanence, imperfection and absence of an innate self.
Pyrrho's thinking lay dormant in Europe for more than a millennium due to rejection by the Catholic church. It was revived in the Renaissance, perhaps reaching a zenith with David Hume during the Enlightenment. Hume reworked the 'Problem of the Criterion' as the 'Problem of Induction' posing a challenge to scientific inquiry. Arguing that 'we have no logical justification for believing in the truth of knowledge' (acquired by experimental science) he stated he was a 'Pyrrhonian'. Certainly epistemology has been an enduring hallmark of the modern era.
Beckwith is a professor at Indiana University who specializes in Central Eurasian Studies. He is a linguist as well as a historian teaching living and dead languages from Aramaic to Turkic and Tibetan to Chinese. There is something of old school philology in his approach. This doesn't reflect on the novelty of the ideas presented. It is a revisionist look at the influence of the Buddha in the west and east, perhaps as bold as Crone and Cook's 'Hagarism', which reconstructed early Islam. It may not have happened exactly this way, but then again it just might have.
September 7, 2015
This is a highly ambitious book on the Greek philosopher Pyrrho and his relationship to Early Buddhism, and more significantly on Early Buddhism itself. But it is also very problematic. I would encourage anyone interested in the elusive question of the nature of the historical Buddha's teaching, and the early connections of Buddhism to the western world to read this book. But it is far from proving its bold claims, which include fundamental reinterpretations of not only of Buddhism and Pyrrho, but also of Jainism, Taoism and Hinduism. In most cases Beckwith draws on prior scholarship, but he frequently draws novel and sometimes quite unwarranted conclusions.
Lets start with Buddhism. Beckwith's approach is to reject information about Buddhism in the first centuries after the Buddha that does not come from dateable sources. That means discarding the Nikayas (i.e. the Pali Canon and the Agamas), which have long been used as the main source. For Beckwith (and for others like Schopen) this material merely tells us about the 'Normative Buddhism' that developed only several centuries after the Buddha’s lifetime (I assume the name references the distinction between well known distinction Biblical and Talmudic Normative Judaism in a roughly equivalent period).
This means that Beckwith largely sets aside the putative conclusions of the higher criticism that aims to distinguish, from internal textual evidence, earlier from later strata. He also rejects the approach (followed by Gombrich, for example) of pegging Buddhist material by showing its relationship to Brahmanical sources such as the Upanishads because he argues that these actually postdate Buddhism by several centuries. That's a radical revision of Indian history, but it follows the argument Johannes Bronkhorst's 'Greater Magadha (while profoundly differing from Bronkhorst’s conclusions about Buddhism). Beckwith also argues that Jainism postdates Buddhism - which is a novelty, so far as I am aware.
The portrait of Early Buddhism he paints is one that focuses on attaining state of balance in this life, with no reference to rebirth or a state of Buddhahood that takes an individual beyond 'samsara'. We have wandering forest renunciates rather than Bhikkhus (this much is well-founded) and more urban-based renunciates, who seek to live in accordance with the nature of existence described in the Trilakshana through ethical exertion, endurance and meditative practices. All the rest is the province of Normative Buddhism and therefor invalid.
The only sources on which we can rely in forming such a picture, Beckwith suggests, is the archaeological and epigraphic evidence that has been highlighted by Schopen and other scholars, and dateable Greek sources. In particular this means Pyrrho, who travelled to Gandhara with Alexander the Great, and became a renowned philosopher in his own right on his return to Greece; and Megasthenes, a Greek ambassador to Candragupta's court some decades after Alexander, who left descriptions of Indian culture and customs.
Archaeological evidence doesn't play a large role in Beckwith's argument - its main contribution is to show that the cities where the Buddha is said to have lived only developed much later, if at all. This means that we can't take the Nikayas' accounts of him in large cities in Varanasi, Rajagriha and Shravasti at face value. We need more archaeology and better accounts of it, but it's true that this conclusively shows the need to treat the Nikayas with caution. They also show that Buddhist monasteries also only developed around the turn of the millennium, much later than the Vinaya claims. The chief epigraphic evidence is the 'Ashokan' inscriptions, and here, too, Beckwith offers a radical reinterpretation.
Beckwith's reconstruction of Early Buddhism therefore relies heavily on Pyrrho, who is claimed as an a Buddhist himself, and Megasthenes. The picture that emerges is clear, vivid and in some ways compelling, but the nature of Beckwith's textual sources means that it can hardly be authoritative. Megasthenes' texts have survived as quotations in the works of Strabo. But Beckwith himself argues that they have been corrupted or misinterpreted in Strabo to some extent. Pyrrho, meanwhile, wrote nothing and, like Socrates, we know of his thought through the accounts of his pupil, Timon; and Timon's works survive in quotations and fragments in various sources.
I was not previously familiar with this material, but from what I can see, Beckwith makes a strong case that his thought mirrors Buddhist teachings, especially the in Pyrrho's account of the nature of existence, which in Beckwith's account parallels the trilakshana; and the appropriate response - the cultivation of dispassion, equanimity and the abandonment of views. However, this is hardly sufficient to define our understanding of Early Buddhism, and if higher criticism is permitted in these sources it is hard to see why it is not permissible for Buddhist canonical texts.
Finding a Buddhist sramana at the heart of Greek philosophy is a considerable coup (if it withstands scrutiny) and it would have been enough for a whole book. It also allows Beckwith to suggest that a Buddhist influence has been at work in later philosophy through the influence of Pyronnhism, which was especially important for David Hume. However, it is surely going too far to reverse the direction of the argument, and claim this reconstruction of Pyrrho as decisive evidence of the nature of Early Buddhism.
Megasthenes is a more familiar source for Indian historians, and his account of the behaviour of the sramanas - who Beckwith identifies as being exclusively Buddhist practitioners - really does deserve closer attention. Megasthenes’ testimony suggests the importance of practice in the wilderness in the early Buddhist tradition and the distinct role of town-based sramanas. It gives a few, sparse indications of their beliefs. But, once again, the nature of the text makes it unreliable; and even if we have the author's exact words we can't be sure that he reported accurately on Early Buddhist practice or understood what he saw. In fact, some elements of Megasthenes' account would seem to contradict the rationalist tenor of Beckwith's Early Buddhism. The forest dwelling sramanas, he tells us, 'worship the divine'. That seems to indicate a devotional element and perhaps a focus on something beyond ordinary existence; and the town dwelling sramanas he mentions offer teachings on karma and rebirth to the laity. Beckwith skips over this evidence, even though it marries with elements in the Buddhist canon, and what we know of pre-modern societies in general.
Having limited the valid evidence so drastically Beckwith summarily proposes entirely new interpretations of almost everything he touches: only some of the Ashokan pillars are genuine; Lao Tzu is actually the Gautama; the Buddha was a Scythian – you get the picture. The irony in Beckwith’s approach is that he wishes to advocate Pyrrhonian scepticism and rejection of dogma, but is in fact arrogant and dogmatic in his definitive insistence on his conclusions. The version of Buddhism he proposes uncannily mirrors his own character as a Humean sceptic and an authority on early Central Asia.
I commend Beckwith for the clarity of his prose and his arguments. These are considerable gifts when allied to his breadth of learning. But we need accounts of this history that marries such virtues with a deeper presentation of the archaeological evidence and makes an effort to integrate that with higher criticism. Above all, we need to approach this material with a sympathetic interest in what Buddhists themselves believed and practiced, albeit in later times. That might allow scholars to follow up his many provocations and draw conclusions in which we could have a little more confidence.
Lets start with Buddhism. Beckwith's approach is to reject information about Buddhism in the first centuries after the Buddha that does not come from dateable sources. That means discarding the Nikayas (i.e. the Pali Canon and the Agamas), which have long been used as the main source. For Beckwith (and for others like Schopen) this material merely tells us about the 'Normative Buddhism' that developed only several centuries after the Buddha’s lifetime (I assume the name references the distinction between well known distinction Biblical and Talmudic Normative Judaism in a roughly equivalent period).
This means that Beckwith largely sets aside the putative conclusions of the higher criticism that aims to distinguish, from internal textual evidence, earlier from later strata. He also rejects the approach (followed by Gombrich, for example) of pegging Buddhist material by showing its relationship to Brahmanical sources such as the Upanishads because he argues that these actually postdate Buddhism by several centuries. That's a radical revision of Indian history, but it follows the argument Johannes Bronkhorst's 'Greater Magadha (while profoundly differing from Bronkhorst’s conclusions about Buddhism). Beckwith also argues that Jainism postdates Buddhism - which is a novelty, so far as I am aware.
The portrait of Early Buddhism he paints is one that focuses on attaining state of balance in this life, with no reference to rebirth or a state of Buddhahood that takes an individual beyond 'samsara'. We have wandering forest renunciates rather than Bhikkhus (this much is well-founded) and more urban-based renunciates, who seek to live in accordance with the nature of existence described in the Trilakshana through ethical exertion, endurance and meditative practices. All the rest is the province of Normative Buddhism and therefor invalid.
The only sources on which we can rely in forming such a picture, Beckwith suggests, is the archaeological and epigraphic evidence that has been highlighted by Schopen and other scholars, and dateable Greek sources. In particular this means Pyrrho, who travelled to Gandhara with Alexander the Great, and became a renowned philosopher in his own right on his return to Greece; and Megasthenes, a Greek ambassador to Candragupta's court some decades after Alexander, who left descriptions of Indian culture and customs.
Archaeological evidence doesn't play a large role in Beckwith's argument - its main contribution is to show that the cities where the Buddha is said to have lived only developed much later, if at all. This means that we can't take the Nikayas' accounts of him in large cities in Varanasi, Rajagriha and Shravasti at face value. We need more archaeology and better accounts of it, but it's true that this conclusively shows the need to treat the Nikayas with caution. They also show that Buddhist monasteries also only developed around the turn of the millennium, much later than the Vinaya claims. The chief epigraphic evidence is the 'Ashokan' inscriptions, and here, too, Beckwith offers a radical reinterpretation.
Beckwith's reconstruction of Early Buddhism therefore relies heavily on Pyrrho, who is claimed as an a Buddhist himself, and Megasthenes. The picture that emerges is clear, vivid and in some ways compelling, but the nature of Beckwith's textual sources means that it can hardly be authoritative. Megasthenes' texts have survived as quotations in the works of Strabo. But Beckwith himself argues that they have been corrupted or misinterpreted in Strabo to some extent. Pyrrho, meanwhile, wrote nothing and, like Socrates, we know of his thought through the accounts of his pupil, Timon; and Timon's works survive in quotations and fragments in various sources.
I was not previously familiar with this material, but from what I can see, Beckwith makes a strong case that his thought mirrors Buddhist teachings, especially the in Pyrrho's account of the nature of existence, which in Beckwith's account parallels the trilakshana; and the appropriate response - the cultivation of dispassion, equanimity and the abandonment of views. However, this is hardly sufficient to define our understanding of Early Buddhism, and if higher criticism is permitted in these sources it is hard to see why it is not permissible for Buddhist canonical texts.
Finding a Buddhist sramana at the heart of Greek philosophy is a considerable coup (if it withstands scrutiny) and it would have been enough for a whole book. It also allows Beckwith to suggest that a Buddhist influence has been at work in later philosophy through the influence of Pyronnhism, which was especially important for David Hume. However, it is surely going too far to reverse the direction of the argument, and claim this reconstruction of Pyrrho as decisive evidence of the nature of Early Buddhism.
Megasthenes is a more familiar source for Indian historians, and his account of the behaviour of the sramanas - who Beckwith identifies as being exclusively Buddhist practitioners - really does deserve closer attention. Megasthenes’ testimony suggests the importance of practice in the wilderness in the early Buddhist tradition and the distinct role of town-based sramanas. It gives a few, sparse indications of their beliefs. But, once again, the nature of the text makes it unreliable; and even if we have the author's exact words we can't be sure that he reported accurately on Early Buddhist practice or understood what he saw. In fact, some elements of Megasthenes' account would seem to contradict the rationalist tenor of Beckwith's Early Buddhism. The forest dwelling sramanas, he tells us, 'worship the divine'. That seems to indicate a devotional element and perhaps a focus on something beyond ordinary existence; and the town dwelling sramanas he mentions offer teachings on karma and rebirth to the laity. Beckwith skips over this evidence, even though it marries with elements in the Buddhist canon, and what we know of pre-modern societies in general.
Having limited the valid evidence so drastically Beckwith summarily proposes entirely new interpretations of almost everything he touches: only some of the Ashokan pillars are genuine; Lao Tzu is actually the Gautama; the Buddha was a Scythian – you get the picture. The irony in Beckwith’s approach is that he wishes to advocate Pyrrhonian scepticism and rejection of dogma, but is in fact arrogant and dogmatic in his definitive insistence on his conclusions. The version of Buddhism he proposes uncannily mirrors his own character as a Humean sceptic and an authority on early Central Asia.
I commend Beckwith for the clarity of his prose and his arguments. These are considerable gifts when allied to his breadth of learning. But we need accounts of this history that marries such virtues with a deeper presentation of the archaeological evidence and makes an effort to integrate that with higher criticism. Above all, we need to approach this material with a sympathetic interest in what Buddhists themselves believed and practiced, albeit in later times. That might allow scholars to follow up his many provocations and draw conclusions in which we could have a little more confidence.
January 25, 2016
Beckwith is not the first scholar to argue that Pyrrho and early Indian Buddhism are historically related in some way (e.g., Everard Flintoff's "Pyrrho and India," Thomas McEvilley's The Shape of Ancient Thought: Comparative Studies in Greek and Indian Philosophies, and Adrian Kuzminski's Pyrrhonism: How the Ancient Greeks Reinvented Buddhism). My reaction to Beckwith’s study is in one respect similar and in other respects unique.
As with previous studies on the topic, I think the evidence available is not quite up to the task to which it is put. This fact itself has nothing to do with the credentials or abilities of scholars engaging in these studies; it has to do with the inconclusive nature of the evidence itself, but above all, with the relative lack of evidence.
Unlike previous studies, however, Beckwith does not rely primarily on comparative studies of texts wherein a scholar argues, “text a says x; text b says y; x and y are similar or the same; therefore, there was some direct historical connection between texts a and b.” As he tells us in the preface, Beckwith takes a more “scientific” approach that relies on “hard evidence” from archaeology, history, and linguistics.
This approach makes Beckwith’s study more provocative, especially the ways in which it challenges orthodox interpretations of early Buddhism (which I found to be the most surprising aspect of his book) and in his more philosophical claims (chapter four, where Beckwith claims that the Buddha, Pyrrho, and Hume all argue against a form of absolutism, is the most philosophically interesting part of the book).
The problem with Beckwith’s approach, though, is that he’s a bit too dogmatic – perhaps the most ironic aspect of a book about skepticism! This is especially odd considering how little “hard evidence” there is when it comes to ancient Central and South Asian history. Surely a lot of interesting things happened in Central and South Asia in the first millennium BCE, and perhaps just as surely the vast majority of such happenings are not accounted for in any “hard evidence.” By sticking too closely with this type of evidence, Beckwith seems to forget another dictum of any scientific approach: absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.
For instance, Beckwith’s challenges to typical understandings of early Buddhism are worthwhile for scholars of Buddhism to consider. Early Buddhism probably did look different than most Buddhists and most textbooks would have it. But does this mean that it took the specific form Beckwith claims it does? At best, it challenges orthodoxy (a good thing to do), but Beckwith’s positive claims are not quite as well supported as he seems to think.
Another issue is that Beckwith sometimes loses the forest for the trees. Maybe this is because my background isn’t in archaeology, history, or linguistics, but I often found it difficult to determine exactly what Beckwith’s claims were. For instance, in chapter three, on possible Buddhist influence in early Chinese Daoism, I couldn’t tell if Beckwith meant to claim that Gautama (the historical Buddha) and Laozi (the legendary founder of Daoism) were literally the same person or if there was merely some historical influence. I would like a conclusion or an additional appendix in which Beckwith gives a clear, concise list of his claims in the book.
So, while Beckwith’s book provides provocative and healthy challenges to traditional understandings in Buddhist Studies, Asian Studies, philosophy, Classics, history, and other disciplines, the biggest flaw of the book is philosophical: it fails to take seriously the skeptical message of the philosophers discussed. Even if we’re not ready to suspend judgment to the extent that these ancient skeptics recommended, I think it would be prudent to suspend judgment in an area in which the impulse toward belief far outstrips the available evidence.
See an earlier discussion of this book on my blog: http://examinedworlds.blogspot.com/20...
As with previous studies on the topic, I think the evidence available is not quite up to the task to which it is put. This fact itself has nothing to do with the credentials or abilities of scholars engaging in these studies; it has to do with the inconclusive nature of the evidence itself, but above all, with the relative lack of evidence.
Unlike previous studies, however, Beckwith does not rely primarily on comparative studies of texts wherein a scholar argues, “text a says x; text b says y; x and y are similar or the same; therefore, there was some direct historical connection between texts a and b.” As he tells us in the preface, Beckwith takes a more “scientific” approach that relies on “hard evidence” from archaeology, history, and linguistics.
This approach makes Beckwith’s study more provocative, especially the ways in which it challenges orthodox interpretations of early Buddhism (which I found to be the most surprising aspect of his book) and in his more philosophical claims (chapter four, where Beckwith claims that the Buddha, Pyrrho, and Hume all argue against a form of absolutism, is the most philosophically interesting part of the book).
The problem with Beckwith’s approach, though, is that he’s a bit too dogmatic – perhaps the most ironic aspect of a book about skepticism! This is especially odd considering how little “hard evidence” there is when it comes to ancient Central and South Asian history. Surely a lot of interesting things happened in Central and South Asia in the first millennium BCE, and perhaps just as surely the vast majority of such happenings are not accounted for in any “hard evidence.” By sticking too closely with this type of evidence, Beckwith seems to forget another dictum of any scientific approach: absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.
For instance, Beckwith’s challenges to typical understandings of early Buddhism are worthwhile for scholars of Buddhism to consider. Early Buddhism probably did look different than most Buddhists and most textbooks would have it. But does this mean that it took the specific form Beckwith claims it does? At best, it challenges orthodoxy (a good thing to do), but Beckwith’s positive claims are not quite as well supported as he seems to think.
Another issue is that Beckwith sometimes loses the forest for the trees. Maybe this is because my background isn’t in archaeology, history, or linguistics, but I often found it difficult to determine exactly what Beckwith’s claims were. For instance, in chapter three, on possible Buddhist influence in early Chinese Daoism, I couldn’t tell if Beckwith meant to claim that Gautama (the historical Buddha) and Laozi (the legendary founder of Daoism) were literally the same person or if there was merely some historical influence. I would like a conclusion or an additional appendix in which Beckwith gives a clear, concise list of his claims in the book.
So, while Beckwith’s book provides provocative and healthy challenges to traditional understandings in Buddhist Studies, Asian Studies, philosophy, Classics, history, and other disciplines, the biggest flaw of the book is philosophical: it fails to take seriously the skeptical message of the philosophers discussed. Even if we’re not ready to suspend judgment to the extent that these ancient skeptics recommended, I think it would be prudent to suspend judgment in an area in which the impulse toward belief far outstrips the available evidence.
See an earlier discussion of this book on my blog: http://examinedworlds.blogspot.com/20...
December 16, 2015
Four centuries lie between the time the Buddha lived and the time the earliest known Gandhari and Pali Buddhist texts were committed to writing. Since religions are never static affairs, these texts undoubtedly diverged to some extent from the Buddha’s original teachings, but exactly how far and in which ways is uncertain; our knowledge of the gap between the earliest Buddhist teachings and early canonical Buddhism is basically a vast, empty chasm. Unfortunately for us, the Buddha’s Indian contemporaries lacked both a written language and an understanding of how history differs from mythology and hagiography.
Indulge me in a thought experiment: Imagine that you and I live in a preliterate society. Imagine that nothing Abraham Lincoln ever said or did was written down, either at the time or subsequently. Imagine that there are no photographs or drawings of him. Imagine that there were no documents pertaining to the Civil War – no quartermasters’ inventories, no Mathew Brady photographs, no slave diaries, no rosters of those who served, no records of Lincoln’s speeches. Imagine too that there is no written record of the presidents who served before or after Lincoln. All that exists is our memory of what our parents and teachers told us face to face, based on their memory of what their parents and teachers told them.
If this was so, how accurate would our knowledge of Lincoln be today? How much of what he said would be accurately remembered and generally agreed upon?
Think of all the apocryphal Lincoln “quotes” that currently float through the Internet in all their glorious inaccuracy.
Now imagine that another three hundred years passes before the orally transmitted “knowledge” of Lincoln is finally set down on paper. How much more inaccurate would those ideas about Lincoln be?
This is the state we find ourselves in when in comes to the Buddha.
Christopher Beckwith’s new book, Greek Buddha: Pyrrho’s Encounter with Early Buddhism in Central Asia (2015, Princeton) is a fascinating attempt to fill this historical void with educated speculation. Beckwith urges us to make his own mental experiment. He suggests that we bracket off almost everything we think we “know” about early Buddhism from canonical sources, and instead invites us to follow him as he attempts to reconstruct early Buddhism from sources closer in time to when the Buddha actually lived, namely the stone edicts and pillars of the Mauryan kings, the records of ancient Greek travelers, recent archeological findings, and the earliest Chinese Taoist texts.
Beckwith pays special attention to one such Greek traveller: Pyrrho of Elis, a young artist who travelled with Alexander the Great to Gandhara in the years 327-325 B.C. where Pyrrho met with and was influenced by a group of early Buddhist practitioners. Pyrrho returned to Greece espousing a radical new philosophy—“Pyrrhonism”—which bore more than a surface resemblance to the Buddhism he encountered in Gandhara (as has been noted previously by scholars like Georgios Halkias). For example, Pyrrho cultivated apatheia (passionlessness) in order to develop ataraxia (inner calm). He made explicit use of the fourfold negation of the tetralemma [five centuries before Nagarjuna!]. He was celibate, lived in simplicity, engaged in meditation, and was regarded by his neighbors as a holy man. He recommended an attitude of “not-knowing” in regards to pragmata, or “disputed ethical questions.” Pyrrho viewed pragmata as having three primary characteristics: they were inherently adiaphora (undifferentiated by logical differentia—possibly a parallel to the Buddha’s “anatta”), astathmeta (unbalanced—possibly a parallel to the Buddha’s “dukkha”) and anepikrita (indeterminate — possibly a parallel to the Buddha’s “annica”). The degree to which Pyrrho’s three qualities of pragmata actually map one-to-one onto the Buddha’s three marks of existence is a question I’ll leave to better philologists and philosophers than myself, but I found Beckwith’s argument intriguing.
Beckwith then takes his argument a step further. He notes that concepts like “karma” and “rebirth” are mentioned by neither Pyrrho nor Megasthenes (another traveling Greek who served as Seleucus Nicatator’s ambassador to Chandragupta from 302 to 298 B.C.). Based on this, Beckwith asserts that these ideas weren’t a part of early Buddhism. This seems like an awfully big assumption to make, especially since Pyrrho himself wrote nothing—we only know of his thoughts through the writings of his contemporaries and students. In addition, while Pyrrho’s philosophy may have been based on Buddhism, he may not have adopted all of Buddhism’s tenets; he may have picked and chosen those ideas that were most consonant with his Hellenic background. While Beckwith is correct that we’ve no hard evidence that karma and rebirth were Buddhist beliefs prior to 100 B.C., absence of evidence is not the same thing as evidence of absence. The most we can say is that he may be right.
Beckwith also speculates on the Buddha’s ethnicity. He argues against the canonical assertion that the Buddha was a native Magadhan born in Lumbini, and argues instead that the name “Śākyamuni” (“Sage of the Śākyas”) suggests that the Buddha was a Śākya, i.e., an ethnic Scythian (a Central Asian people who dominated the steppes). Of course the epithet “Śākyamuni” doesn’t necessarily imply that the Buddha himself was actually “foreign-born.” Alternatively, the Buddha could have been descended from Scythians who migrated to Magadha somewhat earlier, perhaps as early as 850 BC as Jayarava Attwood has speculated. One interesting implication of the Buddha’s possibly Scythian origin is that he may have developed the Dharma, at least in part, in response to Zoroastrianism, the religion of Darius’s Achaemenid Empire which stretched from the Balkans to the Indus Valley. If so, Buddhism can be understood, in part, as a rejection of Zoroastrian monotheism and cosmic dualism.
Beckwith suggests, following the controversial chronology suggested by Johannes Bronkhorst, that early Buddhism preceded the Upanishads and, then goes off on his own to suggest that it also preceded Jainism. He believes that these allegedly later religious traditions adopted aspects of Buddhist teachings and then projected their own origin stories into an imaginary pre-Buddhist past to lend them greater authenticity, in much the same way that the Mahayana would later claim greater antiquity for its own sutras. Beckwith can find no support for the early existence of Jainism in the kinds of data he deems acceptable. The Greek travelers, for example, fail to mention it. The earliest datable references to Jainism are found in the post-100 B.C. Pali literature. Beckwith believes that those Pali Suttas that treat the Buddha and Mahavira as contemporaries are useful fictions designed to address Buddhist-Jain disputes that were current during the era in which they were actually composed.
Even more fascinating is Beckwith’s speculation that Laotzu and the Buddha were one and the same person, and that Taoism grew out of very early Chinese contact with Buddhism. Beckwith does a linguistic analysis of Laotzu’s “actual” name (“Lao Tan”) as recorded around 300 B.C. in Chuangtzu. He argues that “Lao” is the same as “K’ao,” and that K’ao-Tan could plausibly have been pronounced “Gaw-tam” in certain old Chinese dialects, making it intriguingly close to “Gautama,” with the final /a/ being dropped due to canonical monosyllabicization. This is a linguistic argument far beyond my powers to evaluate. If true, it makes for a wonderful story of how Buddhism first influenced the formation of Taoism, and then several hundred years later, Taoism returned the favor in coloring how the Chinese translated and understood the Mahayana Sutras. What goes around comes around. In any case, Beckwith believes it to be no accident that similar theories arose nearly simultaneously in Greece, India, and China during the Axial Age, and that there was a greater degree of intercourse between these cultures than has previously been thought.
There is much more to Beckwith’s book, including discussions of Pyrrho’s influence on David Hume, the provenance of the Mauryan stone edicts and pillars, the linguistic facility of Alexander’s entourage, and Pyrrho’s place in the stream of Greek philosophy. Beckwith’s discussion of the connection between Pyrrho’s quasi-Buddhist philosophy and David Hume’s examination of the problem of logical induction serendipitously coincides with Alison Gopnick’s recent speculation about how Hume may have become familiarized with Buddhist thought during his stay at the Royal College of La Flèche. Like the parallel emergence of novel philosophies during the Axial Age, the parallels between Hume’s philosophy and Buddhist insights may be due to more than mere coincidence.
There are problems with the Beckwith’s book, to be sure. As mentioned above, it’s impossible for a non-scholar like myself to evaluate Beckwith’s claims. While some seem plausible, others seem more of a stretch. I suspect it’s better to think of them as hypotheses which can spur future research than to think of them as strongly supported facts. I should also note that Beckwith could have benefited from a better editor to help him eliminate some of his repetitiveness—he can, at times, worry a point beyond all endurance.
Some readers might be tempted to dismiss Beckwith’s theses as being largely irrelevant to Buddhist practice. They might think, “What does it matter, in the end, whether the Buddha was really a Scythian or one-and-the-same person as Laotzu? What matters is how one is coming along in one’s practice and realization.” While I’m sympathetic to that point of view, I think it’s a mistake. Our hypotheses about who the Buddha actually was and what the Buddhist project is ultimately about deeply inform our approach to practice. Consider, as one example, Stephen Batchelor’s recent historical reimagining of early Buddhism and his proposal that doctrines of karma and rebirth weren’t nearly as central to it as some contend. Beckwith’s arguments buttress Batchelor’s, and together their ideas have the potential to significantly inform the future dominant direction of Western Buddhist practice.
Even if Beckwith’s arguments turns out to be deficient in many of their particulars, Beckwith successfully points to the limitations of taking the Pali Canon’s account of Buddhist history at face value. Buddhist texts need to be read with a certain degree of suspicion. They need to be read alongside contemporaneous Greek and Chinese sources, checked against emerging archeological findings, and understood within the context of our growing understanding of Central and Southern Asian history. I’m incapable of doing this myself and I have no way of judging the ultimate worth of Beckwith’s arguments. On the other hand, I look forward with interest to whatever lively discussion ensues.
Indulge me in a thought experiment: Imagine that you and I live in a preliterate society. Imagine that nothing Abraham Lincoln ever said or did was written down, either at the time or subsequently. Imagine that there are no photographs or drawings of him. Imagine that there were no documents pertaining to the Civil War – no quartermasters’ inventories, no Mathew Brady photographs, no slave diaries, no rosters of those who served, no records of Lincoln’s speeches. Imagine too that there is no written record of the presidents who served before or after Lincoln. All that exists is our memory of what our parents and teachers told us face to face, based on their memory of what their parents and teachers told them.
If this was so, how accurate would our knowledge of Lincoln be today? How much of what he said would be accurately remembered and generally agreed upon?
Think of all the apocryphal Lincoln “quotes” that currently float through the Internet in all their glorious inaccuracy.
Now imagine that another three hundred years passes before the orally transmitted “knowledge” of Lincoln is finally set down on paper. How much more inaccurate would those ideas about Lincoln be?
This is the state we find ourselves in when in comes to the Buddha.
Christopher Beckwith’s new book, Greek Buddha: Pyrrho’s Encounter with Early Buddhism in Central Asia (2015, Princeton) is a fascinating attempt to fill this historical void with educated speculation. Beckwith urges us to make his own mental experiment. He suggests that we bracket off almost everything we think we “know” about early Buddhism from canonical sources, and instead invites us to follow him as he attempts to reconstruct early Buddhism from sources closer in time to when the Buddha actually lived, namely the stone edicts and pillars of the Mauryan kings, the records of ancient Greek travelers, recent archeological findings, and the earliest Chinese Taoist texts.
Beckwith pays special attention to one such Greek traveller: Pyrrho of Elis, a young artist who travelled with Alexander the Great to Gandhara in the years 327-325 B.C. where Pyrrho met with and was influenced by a group of early Buddhist practitioners. Pyrrho returned to Greece espousing a radical new philosophy—“Pyrrhonism”—which bore more than a surface resemblance to the Buddhism he encountered in Gandhara (as has been noted previously by scholars like Georgios Halkias). For example, Pyrrho cultivated apatheia (passionlessness) in order to develop ataraxia (inner calm). He made explicit use of the fourfold negation of the tetralemma [five centuries before Nagarjuna!]. He was celibate, lived in simplicity, engaged in meditation, and was regarded by his neighbors as a holy man. He recommended an attitude of “not-knowing” in regards to pragmata, or “disputed ethical questions.” Pyrrho viewed pragmata as having three primary characteristics: they were inherently adiaphora (undifferentiated by logical differentia—possibly a parallel to the Buddha’s “anatta”), astathmeta (unbalanced—possibly a parallel to the Buddha’s “dukkha”) and anepikrita (indeterminate — possibly a parallel to the Buddha’s “annica”). The degree to which Pyrrho’s three qualities of pragmata actually map one-to-one onto the Buddha’s three marks of existence is a question I’ll leave to better philologists and philosophers than myself, but I found Beckwith’s argument intriguing.
Beckwith then takes his argument a step further. He notes that concepts like “karma” and “rebirth” are mentioned by neither Pyrrho nor Megasthenes (another traveling Greek who served as Seleucus Nicatator’s ambassador to Chandragupta from 302 to 298 B.C.). Based on this, Beckwith asserts that these ideas weren’t a part of early Buddhism. This seems like an awfully big assumption to make, especially since Pyrrho himself wrote nothing—we only know of his thoughts through the writings of his contemporaries and students. In addition, while Pyrrho’s philosophy may have been based on Buddhism, he may not have adopted all of Buddhism’s tenets; he may have picked and chosen those ideas that were most consonant with his Hellenic background. While Beckwith is correct that we’ve no hard evidence that karma and rebirth were Buddhist beliefs prior to 100 B.C., absence of evidence is not the same thing as evidence of absence. The most we can say is that he may be right.
Beckwith also speculates on the Buddha’s ethnicity. He argues against the canonical assertion that the Buddha was a native Magadhan born in Lumbini, and argues instead that the name “Śākyamuni” (“Sage of the Śākyas”) suggests that the Buddha was a Śākya, i.e., an ethnic Scythian (a Central Asian people who dominated the steppes). Of course the epithet “Śākyamuni” doesn’t necessarily imply that the Buddha himself was actually “foreign-born.” Alternatively, the Buddha could have been descended from Scythians who migrated to Magadha somewhat earlier, perhaps as early as 850 BC as Jayarava Attwood has speculated. One interesting implication of the Buddha’s possibly Scythian origin is that he may have developed the Dharma, at least in part, in response to Zoroastrianism, the religion of Darius’s Achaemenid Empire which stretched from the Balkans to the Indus Valley. If so, Buddhism can be understood, in part, as a rejection of Zoroastrian monotheism and cosmic dualism.
Beckwith suggests, following the controversial chronology suggested by Johannes Bronkhorst, that early Buddhism preceded the Upanishads and, then goes off on his own to suggest that it also preceded Jainism. He believes that these allegedly later religious traditions adopted aspects of Buddhist teachings and then projected their own origin stories into an imaginary pre-Buddhist past to lend them greater authenticity, in much the same way that the Mahayana would later claim greater antiquity for its own sutras. Beckwith can find no support for the early existence of Jainism in the kinds of data he deems acceptable. The Greek travelers, for example, fail to mention it. The earliest datable references to Jainism are found in the post-100 B.C. Pali literature. Beckwith believes that those Pali Suttas that treat the Buddha and Mahavira as contemporaries are useful fictions designed to address Buddhist-Jain disputes that were current during the era in which they were actually composed.
Even more fascinating is Beckwith’s speculation that Laotzu and the Buddha were one and the same person, and that Taoism grew out of very early Chinese contact with Buddhism. Beckwith does a linguistic analysis of Laotzu’s “actual” name (“Lao Tan”) as recorded around 300 B.C. in Chuangtzu. He argues that “Lao” is the same as “K’ao,” and that K’ao-Tan could plausibly have been pronounced “Gaw-tam” in certain old Chinese dialects, making it intriguingly close to “Gautama,” with the final /a/ being dropped due to canonical monosyllabicization. This is a linguistic argument far beyond my powers to evaluate. If true, it makes for a wonderful story of how Buddhism first influenced the formation of Taoism, and then several hundred years later, Taoism returned the favor in coloring how the Chinese translated and understood the Mahayana Sutras. What goes around comes around. In any case, Beckwith believes it to be no accident that similar theories arose nearly simultaneously in Greece, India, and China during the Axial Age, and that there was a greater degree of intercourse between these cultures than has previously been thought.
There is much more to Beckwith’s book, including discussions of Pyrrho’s influence on David Hume, the provenance of the Mauryan stone edicts and pillars, the linguistic facility of Alexander’s entourage, and Pyrrho’s place in the stream of Greek philosophy. Beckwith’s discussion of the connection between Pyrrho’s quasi-Buddhist philosophy and David Hume’s examination of the problem of logical induction serendipitously coincides with Alison Gopnick’s recent speculation about how Hume may have become familiarized with Buddhist thought during his stay at the Royal College of La Flèche. Like the parallel emergence of novel philosophies during the Axial Age, the parallels between Hume’s philosophy and Buddhist insights may be due to more than mere coincidence.
There are problems with the Beckwith’s book, to be sure. As mentioned above, it’s impossible for a non-scholar like myself to evaluate Beckwith’s claims. While some seem plausible, others seem more of a stretch. I suspect it’s better to think of them as hypotheses which can spur future research than to think of them as strongly supported facts. I should also note that Beckwith could have benefited from a better editor to help him eliminate some of his repetitiveness—he can, at times, worry a point beyond all endurance.
Some readers might be tempted to dismiss Beckwith’s theses as being largely irrelevant to Buddhist practice. They might think, “What does it matter, in the end, whether the Buddha was really a Scythian or one-and-the-same person as Laotzu? What matters is how one is coming along in one’s practice and realization.” While I’m sympathetic to that point of view, I think it’s a mistake. Our hypotheses about who the Buddha actually was and what the Buddhist project is ultimately about deeply inform our approach to practice. Consider, as one example, Stephen Batchelor’s recent historical reimagining of early Buddhism and his proposal that doctrines of karma and rebirth weren’t nearly as central to it as some contend. Beckwith’s arguments buttress Batchelor’s, and together their ideas have the potential to significantly inform the future dominant direction of Western Buddhist practice.
Even if Beckwith’s arguments turns out to be deficient in many of their particulars, Beckwith successfully points to the limitations of taking the Pali Canon’s account of Buddhist history at face value. Buddhist texts need to be read with a certain degree of suspicion. They need to be read alongside contemporaneous Greek and Chinese sources, checked against emerging archeological findings, and understood within the context of our growing understanding of Central and Southern Asian history. I’m incapable of doing this myself and I have no way of judging the ultimate worth of Beckwith’s arguments. On the other hand, I look forward with interest to whatever lively discussion ensues.
June 22, 2020
A highly specialised, historically and philosophically thoroughly researched account of the main thesis. Recommended only to those readers with a background in the subject or a determination to start at the deep end.
April 4, 2023
Might be the second most important book about Buddhism ever published. I think number one is the Pali Canon.
For a Buddhist expert most of the conclusions in this book are probably not that big of a deal. Most of it already contained in the existing published research literature on the subject. Beckwith took the effort to link all of the scattered evidence together, combine that with his knowledge of many ancient Central Asian languages, to come to his conclusion. The evidence already existed. However, no one was able to or willing to see the unbelievably obvious conclusion. Beckwith 's unique academic background in a really transdisciplinary area, Central Asian studies, and his own peculiar interest in Holy Grail esque questions that most PhD superiors say you should just forget if you want to go into academia. Questions like what did the historical Buddha taught in the day? Where did the historical Buddha come from? Made it possible for Beckwith to cross the boundaries of faculty offices and link up the evidence in many fields to present shocking findings that are based on firm evidence, is useful to both scholars, believers, and general readers.
For people not raised Buddhists, this book is a fun read to scratch the curiosity itch about this mysterious eastern religion of Buddhism. It will be cool conversation at the party. Like I read in a book that the Buddha was not Indian, he was a Scythian! Wow. So he's the Grim Reaper wielding a scyth?! That's heavy metal!
For people raised Buddhists, especially Theravada Buddhism, reading this book is like a Westerner kid learning for the first time that Santa Claus was invented to sell toys. Or a North Korean learning that the dear leader did not invent the aeroplane and that he does indeed need to poop. It is devastating. Nerve wrecking. Game changing. Paradigm shift. And all that shit.
Almost every main point I learned about Buddhism growing up, is wrong. Factually speaking.
There are two kinds of Buddhism. Normative Buddhism and not normative Buddhism. Normative Buddhism is the traditional beliefs passed down through generations, with all the possible mutations of the telephone game. The Buddhism Beckwith is trying to find is what the actual Buddha might have taught. Taking advantage of the fact that most Indian studies specialists don't know Greek; most ancient Greek specialists don't know Sanskrit or any language in that area and time for that matter, somehow Beckwith knows all of these languages and more. He is either real life Indiana Jones or the best con artist in the world. His unique set of skills allow him to take advantage of the fact that the Greek empire penetrated all the way to Indian empire to compare records on both sides of the story to try to guess what might have actually happened.
Shockingly. The controversial but forgotten monk, Buddhadasa Bhikkhu, his interpretation is sometimes seen by the ecclesiastical authority in Thailand as a heretical interpretation, his interpretation is actually in many instances a word for word reconstruction of what the Buddha taught that Beckwith reconstructed. Of course, Buddhadasa Bhikkhu didn't have access to as much scholarly resources as Beckwith and got many things wrong. Especially the biography of the Buddha and how reliable is the "Ashoka" inscriptions. But other than that both he and Beckwith agrees that Trilaksana is the heart of Buddhism. That what Pyrrho called Ataraxia and the Buddha called nirvana is actually a condition easily achieved in this life, with the right practice and knowledge, that next life either does not exist or is pointless thing to think about. That to try to achieve this state in daily life for everyone is Buddhism. Nirvana is not for the next 10,000 reincarnations, it is now. Today. [ Note that Beckwith didn't mention Buddhadasa Bhikkhu even once.]
I don't dare to claim to have enough knowledge to really make any criticism based on careful review of evidence. But as a reader I must say that reading Beckwith 's book, even if it is not written directly to that effect, we get the sense of a dichotomy between normative Buddhism and the Buddhism that Beckwith tries to reconstruct as what the Buddha actually taught. And indeed dichotomies are not OK according to the Buddhism that Beckwith reconstructed! One might get the sense that the best Buddhism is the one the historical Buddha taught. Which any historical evidence cannot objectively decide. We get the sense that the normative Buddhism that most Buddhists today are practicing is anarchronistic and twisted from the true original.
Of course, to be fair, in no where in the book, Beckwith ever claims this. It's just coincidentally the structure of the book's narrative that gives this classic good vs evil kind of storytelling. Indeed this storytelling format might be even older than Buddhism. And it is the job of Beckwith book to only reconstruct the historical Buddha and Buddhism.
As to is normative Buddhism of various kinds good or not, maybe Gathering Leaves and Lifting Words and other books by this orher author would be a better book for that job.
As for my own biases, being raised a normative Theravada Buddhist, I say without a doubt that the Buddhism Beckwith reconstructed is liberating. What I was taught growing up was suffocating and depressing. Fatalistic. Authoritarian. Violent. Militaristic.
For a Buddhist expert most of the conclusions in this book are probably not that big of a deal. Most of it already contained in the existing published research literature on the subject. Beckwith took the effort to link all of the scattered evidence together, combine that with his knowledge of many ancient Central Asian languages, to come to his conclusion. The evidence already existed. However, no one was able to or willing to see the unbelievably obvious conclusion. Beckwith 's unique academic background in a really transdisciplinary area, Central Asian studies, and his own peculiar interest in Holy Grail esque questions that most PhD superiors say you should just forget if you want to go into academia. Questions like what did the historical Buddha taught in the day? Where did the historical Buddha come from? Made it possible for Beckwith to cross the boundaries of faculty offices and link up the evidence in many fields to present shocking findings that are based on firm evidence, is useful to both scholars, believers, and general readers.
For people not raised Buddhists, this book is a fun read to scratch the curiosity itch about this mysterious eastern religion of Buddhism. It will be cool conversation at the party. Like I read in a book that the Buddha was not Indian, he was a Scythian! Wow. So he's the Grim Reaper wielding a scyth?! That's heavy metal!
For people raised Buddhists, especially Theravada Buddhism, reading this book is like a Westerner kid learning for the first time that Santa Claus was invented to sell toys. Or a North Korean learning that the dear leader did not invent the aeroplane and that he does indeed need to poop. It is devastating. Nerve wrecking. Game changing. Paradigm shift. And all that shit.
Almost every main point I learned about Buddhism growing up, is wrong. Factually speaking.
There are two kinds of Buddhism. Normative Buddhism and not normative Buddhism. Normative Buddhism is the traditional beliefs passed down through generations, with all the possible mutations of the telephone game. The Buddhism Beckwith is trying to find is what the actual Buddha might have taught. Taking advantage of the fact that most Indian studies specialists don't know Greek; most ancient Greek specialists don't know Sanskrit or any language in that area and time for that matter, somehow Beckwith knows all of these languages and more. He is either real life Indiana Jones or the best con artist in the world. His unique set of skills allow him to take advantage of the fact that the Greek empire penetrated all the way to Indian empire to compare records on both sides of the story to try to guess what might have actually happened.
Shockingly. The controversial but forgotten monk, Buddhadasa Bhikkhu, his interpretation is sometimes seen by the ecclesiastical authority in Thailand as a heretical interpretation, his interpretation is actually in many instances a word for word reconstruction of what the Buddha taught that Beckwith reconstructed. Of course, Buddhadasa Bhikkhu didn't have access to as much scholarly resources as Beckwith and got many things wrong. Especially the biography of the Buddha and how reliable is the "Ashoka" inscriptions. But other than that both he and Beckwith agrees that Trilaksana is the heart of Buddhism. That what Pyrrho called Ataraxia and the Buddha called nirvana is actually a condition easily achieved in this life, with the right practice and knowledge, that next life either does not exist or is pointless thing to think about. That to try to achieve this state in daily life for everyone is Buddhism. Nirvana is not for the next 10,000 reincarnations, it is now. Today. [ Note that Beckwith didn't mention Buddhadasa Bhikkhu even once.]
I don't dare to claim to have enough knowledge to really make any criticism based on careful review of evidence. But as a reader I must say that reading Beckwith 's book, even if it is not written directly to that effect, we get the sense of a dichotomy between normative Buddhism and the Buddhism that Beckwith tries to reconstruct as what the Buddha actually taught. And indeed dichotomies are not OK according to the Buddhism that Beckwith reconstructed! One might get the sense that the best Buddhism is the one the historical Buddha taught. Which any historical evidence cannot objectively decide. We get the sense that the normative Buddhism that most Buddhists today are practicing is anarchronistic and twisted from the true original.
Of course, to be fair, in no where in the book, Beckwith ever claims this. It's just coincidentally the structure of the book's narrative that gives this classic good vs evil kind of storytelling. Indeed this storytelling format might be even older than Buddhism. And it is the job of Beckwith book to only reconstruct the historical Buddha and Buddhism.
As to is normative Buddhism of various kinds good or not, maybe Gathering Leaves and Lifting Words and other books by this orher author would be a better book for that job.
As for my own biases, being raised a normative Theravada Buddhist, I say without a doubt that the Buddhism Beckwith reconstructed is liberating. What I was taught growing up was suffocating and depressing. Fatalistic. Authoritarian. Violent. Militaristic.
January 19, 2019
We know that the earliest Indian accounts (the Pali canon) of the Buddha's life and teaching were complied hundreds of years after his death. What if the most reliable picture of early Buddhism instead comes hundreds of years earlier via the teachings of Pyrrho, the Greek founder of Skepticism, who traveled to India with Alexander's army in the 4th century BCE? The "Buddhism" that Pyrrho attests to and brought back to Greece centered on "no views" --no inherent or permanent Truth; "no inclinations" -no attachments or passions and being "unwavering" - undisturbed by empty opposites such as good and bad, leading to a ataraxia - a state of undisturbed calm. Beckwith maintains that the testimony of Pyrrho and another 4th century Greek traveler Megaathenes, offer the only direct evidence-based picture we have of early Buddhism -- one that includes no sangha, no vinaya, no monks or monasteries and no fully enlightened divinized Buddha - all of which appear in Normative Buddhism narratives hundreds of years later and which were then projected back onto the life of Shakyamuni and his original followers. A fascinating new perspective ...
June 6, 2019
____2019____
Pyrrho
Pyrrhos käpphäst var att: Pragmata (praktiska livsregler) är viktigare än Doxa (trossatser). Han går så långt som att förespråka att man inte alls bör ha trossatser om psykologi eller teologi.
För Pyrrho så är syftet med korrekta Pragmata att uppnå Apatheia (typ apati) som i längden leder till Atraxia. Detta kan jämföras med hur Buddha förkunnade att avsaknad av begär leder till Nirvana.
Fin liten grej med Ataraxia vs Nirvana är att Ataraxia inte är någonting man uppnår en gång och sedan så är man förvandlad till ett nytt sorts väsen. Ataraxia är snarare ett sinnestillstånd som man kan uppnå och sedan lätt falla ur. Att bibehålla Ataraxia är en teknik.
Hur det förhåller sig till Stoan
Stoikerna är ju förtjusta i Apatheia men pratar sällan om Ataraxia, jag skulle tro att de tyckte att idéen om Nirvana var för flummig och i vilket fall inte uppenbart åtråvärt. Dessutom är väl själva idéen om att Nirvana/Atraxia existerar Doxa och således suspekt.
Pyrrho
Pyrrhos käpphäst var att: Pragmata (praktiska livsregler) är viktigare än Doxa (trossatser). Han går så långt som att förespråka att man inte alls bör ha trossatser om psykologi eller teologi.
För Pyrrho så är syftet med korrekta Pragmata att uppnå Apatheia (typ apati) som i längden leder till Atraxia. Detta kan jämföras med hur Buddha förkunnade att avsaknad av begär leder till Nirvana.
Fin liten grej med Ataraxia vs Nirvana är att Ataraxia inte är någonting man uppnår en gång och sedan så är man förvandlad till ett nytt sorts väsen. Ataraxia är snarare ett sinnestillstånd som man kan uppnå och sedan lätt falla ur. Att bibehålla Ataraxia är en teknik.
Hur det förhåller sig till Stoan
Stoikerna är ju förtjusta i Apatheia men pratar sällan om Ataraxia, jag skulle tro att de tyckte att idéen om Nirvana var för flummig och i vilket fall inte uppenbart åtråvärt. Dessutom är väl själva idéen om att Nirvana/Atraxia existerar Doxa och således suspekt.
February 6, 2024
I couldn't finish reading this book. many of the claims just read too fanciful to be true ... and the so called evidence is really thin on the early Buddhist side--he quoted quite extensively old textbooks that are known to be problematic (e.g. Gethin's 1998 the foundations of Buddhism) not to mention others ... will check his other references in the biblio to report back
June 4, 2017
Provocative and erudite attack on traditional views of the origin of Buddhism, Greek skepticism, and other intellectual and religious movements in the ancient world. I can't pretend to evaluate the arguments, but it's an entertaining read for anyone interested in intellectual history.
June 19, 2024
Most of this book is nonsense but it’s highly entertaining and stimulating nonsense.
July 2, 2017
An incredible and provocative read that significantly challenges what I understand about Buddhism. And I find it both clever and useful that the author begins with The Problem of the Criterion. As a Buddhist practitioner I have always been skeptical of the "veracity" of all the Suttas in the Nikayas and have largely read them without ever believing them to be "real" historical accounts.
But it's truly shocking that Beckwith seems to be suggesting that some of the basic tenets of Buddhism, such as the Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path, were not directly espoused by the Buddha but were later creations. Yet, if we hold to the Problem of the Criterion, I suppose we can see how the later monastics recognized a need to separate the Buddha's teaching on holding no views from the views of nihilism by giving the Buddha views.
Pyrrho is a fascinating character, and the book also opened my mind to David Hume, whose works I have not read, but will surely read now.
I'm not a Buddhist scholar, nor am I a monk. Just a non-affiliated practitioner navigating a world filled with views in an effort to find peace.
But it's truly shocking that Beckwith seems to be suggesting that some of the basic tenets of Buddhism, such as the Four Noble Truths and the Noble Eightfold Path, were not directly espoused by the Buddha but were later creations. Yet, if we hold to the Problem of the Criterion, I suppose we can see how the later monastics recognized a need to separate the Buddha's teaching on holding no views from the views of nihilism by giving the Buddha views.
Pyrrho is a fascinating character, and the book also opened my mind to David Hume, whose works I have not read, but will surely read now.
I'm not a Buddhist scholar, nor am I a monk. Just a non-affiliated practitioner navigating a world filled with views in an effort to find peace.
December 24, 2016
I need to write a review on this book...
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