You can find the panoptical eye in some Buddhist texts too--in particular Śāntideva BCA 5.31-32 but also in the Pali Cannon AN 3.40.2 (although it's actually brahmins, ascetics, and gods who are watching with the "divine eye" (dibbacakku) not the Buddha (though see also AN 3.58, 3.101. )
I think there's a possible conflict here with evolutionary theory. We have a dichotomy—dogmatism and anti-dogmatism. However, evolutionary theory predicts that in any population where multiple adaptive strategies are being pursued, the system may come to more than one strategy co-exist. This is called a stable polymorphism or a mixed equilibrium.
If we accept evolutionary theory, and that it applies to cultural evolution as well, we have to ask why dogmatists continue to be selected for. Pew Research and other polls show the U.S. public contains both highly dogmatic (about 15-25% depending on the issue) and highly open-minded individuals, with a large moderate group in the middle.
We might then ask what is the adaptive advantage of dogmatism, and non-dogmatism. It would seem (off hand) to me that the first help stabilise a population, and the latter help the population to change.
We might say the same for ataraxia and taraxia. Both may have adaptive advantages—i.e. a place in the good life. For instance, one form of taraxia is moral outrage or anxiety about social issues. This can motivate collective action and activism.
So the overall idea that ataraxia is superior to taraxia might be workable from a finite point of view, but not from a more global view. Within any group, in fact, group cohesion is often achieved by messaging of "our way is best"—so we can expect Pyrrhonists to argue along these lines.
But from the broader social or evolutionary perspective, ataraxia, taraxia, and "our way is best" are all strategies in a complex interplay, and the fact that we still see all of them in use after millions of years of social evolution suggests that they all have a their place in the world, in terms of helping humans deal successfully with life. The question then is not why might ataraxia be better than taraxia, or non-dogmatism better than dogmatism, but rather what is the place of each in the world, and hence in each individual's life.
For instance, right now I'm dogmatic that women should have the same rights, opportunities, and salaries (for the same job) as men. I didn't use to be. Now I am. Later I might not be. This dogmatism helps me focus my cognitive limits in order on my contribution to this social battle. If I was questioning daily, that takes time and energy, and might also weaken both focus and will.
Let me add one further question: You devote time and resources to Pyrrhonism. Are you ideologically committed to it? Could you drop it tomorrow? Would the ability to drop it tomorrow assist or destroy your commitment?
I realise after posting the last, another connection with Zen: a phrase used by our Roshi "fetchability". The purpose of Zen practice is to make us fetchable—the ability to be called to do whatever is needed in any particular situation.
I found this quote online, which helps explain:
"We spend a lot of time in the company of our thoughts and feelings, and sometimes we are a companion to silence. Even a hermit sits in a web of connections with things visible and invisible. Our meditation is made not just of the vastness and the deep engine of concentration; it is also made of these relationships.
"And then one day, for no apparent reason, something in particular comes to fetch us: the cook coughs or the morning star rises, and we fall open. A particular intimate meeting with a particular other opens us to an intimate relationship with life itself.
Practice is about making us fetchable. It helps us to recognize what gets in the way of our being fetched, and then it gives us a method to deconstruct the obstacle."
To me, this is the deconstruction of beliefs, or rather, the dukkha of being attached to certain beliefs and ways of thinking.
I mean committed to a system: in other words, you would consider Pyrrhonism as an indispensable part of (your) good life, which must be practiced regularly and committedly. Something like that.
I used to have such commitments, but I was greatly affected by reading Richard Rorty about 30 years ago. Since then, philosophical pragmatism has gradually pervaded the way I think about the world, and ideas: as tools for "coping" or living the good life, and like all good tools, good for some tasks, not so good for others, and rarely the only tool for any particular situation.
For instance, about 20 years ago I was walking around a country fair with my soon-to-be wife. I saw a signboard for a Tarot reading. On impulse, I said I'd like to try that. On the basis of that "reading", I realised I need to radically downsize my firm because of the cognitive load imposed by managing employees. I did so, and have never been happier.
I don't believe in Tarot, nor have I used it since. I also don't either believe nor disbelieve in the sciences—but use them regularly. Just tools.
Pyrrhonism sits in my toolbox near Epicureanism, Stoicism and Zen. (This classification is purely intuitive.) I'm currently a regular Zen practitioner, but have no commitment to it. I may at some point stop. Or I may continue till I die.
On that point, perhaps there is perhaps some connection between philosophical pragmatism, Pyrrhonism, and Zen—in that all disentangle the person from concepts or systems of concepts.
Pyrrhonism is an ability and an activity. It is something one does. It is a system for investigating things. When practiced, it produces results that I consider to be positive.
Tarot is an interesting art. I don't think there's any force that causes certain cards to come up; however, the skill of the reader - who is reading not only the cards but the person and their situation - can matter a lot. There's also something about injecting a random element into a process of consideration that can sometimes give a person a new perspective on the matter.
Pyrrhonism and Zen are deeply connected because they're both based on Buddhist philosophy. In some respects, they aim to do the same things, using strikingly different methods.
You can find the panoptical eye in some Buddhist texts too--in particular Śāntideva BCA 5.31-32 but also in the Pali Cannon AN 3.40.2 (although it's actually brahmins, ascetics, and gods who are watching with the "divine eye" (dibbacakku) not the Buddha (though see also AN 3.58, 3.101. )
I think there's a possible conflict here with evolutionary theory. We have a dichotomy—dogmatism and anti-dogmatism. However, evolutionary theory predicts that in any population where multiple adaptive strategies are being pursued, the system may come to more than one strategy co-exist. This is called a stable polymorphism or a mixed equilibrium.
If we accept evolutionary theory, and that it applies to cultural evolution as well, we have to ask why dogmatists continue to be selected for. Pew Research and other polls show the U.S. public contains both highly dogmatic (about 15-25% depending on the issue) and highly open-minded individuals, with a large moderate group in the middle.
We might then ask what is the adaptive advantage of dogmatism, and non-dogmatism. It would seem (off hand) to me that the first help stabilise a population, and the latter help the population to change.
We might say the same for ataraxia and taraxia. Both may have adaptive advantages—i.e. a place in the good life. For instance, one form of taraxia is moral outrage or anxiety about social issues. This can motivate collective action and activism.
So the overall idea that ataraxia is superior to taraxia might be workable from a finite point of view, but not from a more global view. Within any group, in fact, group cohesion is often achieved by messaging of "our way is best"—so we can expect Pyrrhonists to argue along these lines.
But from the broader social or evolutionary perspective, ataraxia, taraxia, and "our way is best" are all strategies in a complex interplay, and the fact that we still see all of them in use after millions of years of social evolution suggests that they all have a their place in the world, in terms of helping humans deal successfully with life. The question then is not why might ataraxia be better than taraxia, or non-dogmatism better than dogmatism, but rather what is the place of each in the world, and hence in each individual's life.
For instance, right now I'm dogmatic that women should have the same rights, opportunities, and salaries (for the same job) as men. I didn't use to be. Now I am. Later I might not be. This dogmatism helps me focus my cognitive limits in order on my contribution to this social battle. If I was questioning daily, that takes time and energy, and might also weaken both focus and will.
Dogmatism may well be evolutionarily adaptive.
Let me add one further question: You devote time and resources to Pyrrhonism. Are you ideologically committed to it? Could you drop it tomorrow? Would the ability to drop it tomorrow assist or destroy your commitment?
In what way can one be "ideologically" committed to something that isn't an ideology?
Both Oxford and Cambridge define ideology as follows:
"a system of ideas and ideals, especially one which forms the basis of economic or political theory and policy."
So "ideology" is usually used to refer to economic or political idea systems, but includes all systems.
Do you mean systematically committed or committed based on a system of ideas, ideals, and theories?
I realise after posting the last, another connection with Zen: a phrase used by our Roshi "fetchability". The purpose of Zen practice is to make us fetchable—the ability to be called to do whatever is needed in any particular situation.
I found this quote online, which helps explain:
"We spend a lot of time in the company of our thoughts and feelings, and sometimes we are a companion to silence. Even a hermit sits in a web of connections with things visible and invisible. Our meditation is made not just of the vastness and the deep engine of concentration; it is also made of these relationships.
"And then one day, for no apparent reason, something in particular comes to fetch us: the cook coughs or the morning star rises, and we fall open. A particular intimate meeting with a particular other opens us to an intimate relationship with life itself.
Practice is about making us fetchable. It helps us to recognize what gets in the way of our being fetched, and then it gives us a method to deconstruct the obstacle."
To me, this is the deconstruction of beliefs, or rather, the dukkha of being attached to certain beliefs and ways of thinking.
I mean committed to a system: in other words, you would consider Pyrrhonism as an indispensable part of (your) good life, which must be practiced regularly and committedly. Something like that.
I used to have such commitments, but I was greatly affected by reading Richard Rorty about 30 years ago. Since then, philosophical pragmatism has gradually pervaded the way I think about the world, and ideas: as tools for "coping" or living the good life, and like all good tools, good for some tasks, not so good for others, and rarely the only tool for any particular situation.
For instance, about 20 years ago I was walking around a country fair with my soon-to-be wife. I saw a signboard for a Tarot reading. On impulse, I said I'd like to try that. On the basis of that "reading", I realised I need to radically downsize my firm because of the cognitive load imposed by managing employees. I did so, and have never been happier.
I don't believe in Tarot, nor have I used it since. I also don't either believe nor disbelieve in the sciences—but use them regularly. Just tools.
Pyrrhonism sits in my toolbox near Epicureanism, Stoicism and Zen. (This classification is purely intuitive.) I'm currently a regular Zen practitioner, but have no commitment to it. I may at some point stop. Or I may continue till I die.
On that point, perhaps there is perhaps some connection between philosophical pragmatism, Pyrrhonism, and Zen—in that all disentangle the person from concepts or systems of concepts.
Pyrrhonism is an ability and an activity. It is something one does. It is a system for investigating things. When practiced, it produces results that I consider to be positive.
Tarot is an interesting art. I don't think there's any force that causes certain cards to come up; however, the skill of the reader - who is reading not only the cards but the person and their situation - can matter a lot. There's also something about injecting a random element into a process of consideration that can sometimes give a person a new perspective on the matter.
Pyrrhonism and Zen are deeply connected because they're both based on Buddhist philosophy. In some respects, they aim to do the same things, using strikingly different methods.