What’s the book Why Buddhism Is True about? Do science and Buddhism share similar worldviews?
In Why Buddhism Is True, Robert Wright draws on his experience as both a science journalist and meditator to show that modern evolutionary science supports Buddhism’s core insights about the human condition. Wright explains how evolution shaped us to be chronically dissatisfied, how this leads us to misperceive reality, and how mindfulness meditation offers a solution.
Read more in our brief overview of Why Buddhism Is True.
Overview of Why Buddhism Is True
In Why Buddhism Is True, Robert Wright argues that modern evolutionary science supports Buddhism’s core insights into the human condition. And in addition to having a valid theory, Buddhism provides an effective practice—mindfulness meditation—that can help us become happier, wiser, and more moral if we make it a small daily habit.
Looking beyond these benefits for individuals, Wright also contends that Buddhist-inspired mindfulness could help bring about a widespread transformation in human awareness. Such a shift, he holds, must happen if we’re to overcome major global issues, like war, and avoid squandering billions of years of life’s evolutionary progress.
Wright, an award-winning journalist who’s lectured at Princeton and Penn State, bases his arguments on multiple sources. These include interviews with expert meditators, Buddhist scriptures, and his experience meditating daily and attending intensive meditation retreats. He also references his prior research and writing about evolutionary science and morality (The Moral Animal, Nonzero). His writing focuses on Buddhist philosophy and psychology rather than its mythical elements, like belief in reincarnation or gods and demons.
The Problem: Our Basic Nature
To begin, we’ll lay out Wright’s assertion that the Buddhist concepts of dukkha (suffering) and tanha (craving) offer an accurate view of the human condition. Next, we’ll tell how, according to Wright, modern science supports these ideas.
Buddhism’s Claim: Life Is Unsatisfying
Wright explains that the first of Buddhism’s “Four Noble Truths” is dukkha: the idea that life is chronically unsatisfying. Though it often gets translated as “suffering,” Wright says that dukkha refers not only to obvious, significant suffering like profound grief but also to the subtle state of dissatisfaction we all tend to live in.
The key to understanding this subtler degree of dukkha lies in a second Buddhist idea, tanha. Roughly put, tanha means craving. We’re constantly craving something—whether it’s the simple pleasure of a good meal, the achievement of a long-held dream, or simply a shift away from some unpleasant state or experience. This repetitive cycle of desire and temporary fulfillment keeps us perpetually unsatisfied, always reaching for the next thing we believe will make us happy.
The Scientific Support: We Evolved to Crave Things
To argue in support of these ideas, Wright turns to evolutionary science. He says that early on, simple organisms evolved to use feelings to distinguish between what was good or bad for their survival and reproduction. If something felt good, they moved toward it. If something felt bad, they moved away from it. Organisms that navigated in this way survived and passed on their genes—an example of the process called natural selection. So, over generations, life evolved to use pleasure and pain as signals for what to do and not do.
Today, all living creatures rely on this basic distinction between positive and negative feelings to navigate their environments. Like any other species, humans have inherited billions of years’ worth of learned judgments, which we experience as feelings. These feelings tell us what’s good or bad for us according to natural selection. For instance, we each know instinctively not to mess around with large snakes or drink too much salt water, both of which could kill us.
So these basic drives—to pursue pleasure or escape pain—helped us survive, reproduce, and evolve. But how do they explain why dukkha and tanha are true? Wright puts it like this: While we evolved to navigate based on feeling, we also evolved for those feelings to end. For instance, if the pleasure you felt after eating a good meal never ended, you’d never crave food again, so you’d starve.
This means that we’re always on the lookout for the next reward or threat. Modern studies support this, suggesting that our brains release more dopamine—a chemical associated with pleasure and reward—in anticipation of a reward compared to when we actually receive it. This neurological response keeps us perpetually chasing the next hit of pleasure, going in a loop that psychologists call the hedonic treadmill.
In Buddhist terms, this perpetual chase could be called tanha (craving). As Wright puts it, the scientific and Buddhist perspectives complement each other: Buddhism points out that we’re driven by craving, and evolutionary science explains why. Take them together and the picture becomes clear—living means craving, and craving means dissatisfaction. Thus, Wright asserts, Buddhism’s description of the human condition is true.
The question then becomes: If craving and dissatisfaction form our basic nature, is there anything we can do about it? In the next two sections, we’ll explain how, according to Wright, both Buddhist theory and practice offer a way out.
The Explanation: Our Clouded View
Now that we’ve described how Buddhism and evolutionary science agree about the human condition, we’ll next explain how Buddhist theory resolves this problem. Specifically, we’ll detail Wright’s explanations of no-self (anatta) and emptiness (sunyata), and we’ll tell how they dovetail with evolutionary science.
Buddhism’s Claim: We Don’t See Clearly
If we’re always craving something and therefore always unsatisfied, why can’t we just snap out of it? Wright says that Buddhism offers the answer: We’re stuck in this cycle because we don’t see clearly; our understanding of ourselves and the world is clouded by subtle illusions.
A Clouded View Within
Let’s start with how we view ourselves. Here, Buddhism presents the idea of anatta, translated as “no-self.” As Wright explains, this is the claim that what you conventionally think of as your “self” doesn’t have inherent existence. In other words, your self—the seemingly distinct person you identify as—is less concrete and permanent than you think.
Anatta doesn’t mean you don’t exist at all, though. To clarify, Wright references two Buddhist discourses (the Buddha’s ancient oral teachings).
In the first, the Buddha asks his followers to look for their selves in each of the five aggregates (form, sensation, perception, mental activity, and consciousness), which in Buddhism constitute all of experience. He says that the self must be something permanent but that each of these aspects of experience is transient. Therefore, none of them are the self.
In the other discourse, Wright says, the Buddha uses the analogy of a king and his kingdom. Saying that the self must be something in your control, he points out that you don’t control your experience the way a king controls his kingdom: You can’t pick and choose your feelings, sensations, or the activities of any of the five aggregates. Therefore, your self can’t be found in them.
Wright affirms this reasoning, saying that from a common sense point of view, it makes sense that the self should be something permanent and in control. The takeaway is that in the Buddhist view, your “self” can’t be found in any aspect of your experience. And in believing that we are such selves, we see unclearly.
A Clouded View Without
Next, let’s look at how we view the world. According to Wright, Buddhists say that reality lacks inherent existence—that it doesn’t exist as we conventionally think it does. This is the idea of sunyata, or emptiness.
To clarify what emptiness means, Wright refers to the idea of interdependent arising, another Buddhist concept that boils down to the idea that everything is inextricably interconnected. Think of a tree—it seems like a distinct, independent thing. But it wouldn’t exist without soil, water, and sunlight, or without the complex web of microorganisms in its roots and the forest around it. In other words, the tree exists only in relation to everything around it.
Buddhists, Wright says, take this interconnectedness to mean that any seemingly distinct form (a tree, a house, a self) is “empty” of inherent existence. Since nothing can stand on its own, no “thing” is really there. So in thinking that the world around us is made up of distinct things, we see unclearly. The world of “things” isn’t really there.
The Scientific Support: The Self and the World Aren’t as They Seem
According to Wright, there’s ample scientific support for these ancient, counterintuitive claims. Work from psychology, cognitive science, and philosophy help explain how they’re true.
Our Selves Aren’t as They Seem
First, Wright argues that the principle of no-self dovetails neatly with the modular theory of mind, an idea in cognitive science that’s become influential in recent decades. It holds that our thoughts and behaviors arise from the activity of various mental “modules,” or interconnected groups of brain areas that work together. Each module has its own agenda, such as courting mates or finding food, and they constantly compete for control of our actions. In this view, our thoughts arise spontaneously, driven by feeling—we don’t consciously choose them.
Think about the last time you tried to resist a temptation, like a basket of french fries. It can feel like there are two “yous” in conflict—one wants the fries, and the other wants to avoid unhealthy food. This internal tug-of-war makes more sense if you think of yourself not as a single cohesive “self,” but rather as a collection of competing impulses and desires.
According to Wright, modular mind theorists also say that we’re mistaken in thinking that we’re consciously in charge of our thinking, feeling, and acting. In the modular view, your conscious self is less of a chief and more of a mediator. It “hears” the arguments from different parts of you, but it doesn’t make the decision in the end.
So why have consciousness at all, then? Wright says the leading hypothesis is that consciousness functions as a sort of spokesperson for your multiple inner modules. Evolutionarily, it would’ve been useful to present a coherent self to the world—if you seemed consistent and reliable, you’d have been more socially accepted. You therefore would’ve had better chances of surviving and reproducing. Consciousness helps you do this by rationalizing your decisions, regardless of what module wins, and making it feel like you’re one coherent self. Believing that, you can then present a consistent character to the world.
For Wright, these scientific theories validate the principle of no-self. Like Buddhism, they say that our selves are far less concrete, permanent, or under control than we think. And where Buddhism doesn’t provide rigorous, empirical evidence, science does.
The World Isn’t as it Seems
Next, Wright explains that the idea of emptiness squares well with modern understandings of perception. He writes that today, scientists say that perception isn’t passive but active—that our brains construct the world we experience at least as much as we receive it.
Put another way, we all project our preconceived thoughts and feelings—the stories we tell ourselves about how things are—onto the world. Here’s how this works in the brain: When you come across something, like a dog, one brain region (the thalamus) receives sensory data (like the dog’s appearance and the sound of its bark). Another brain region (the medial orbitofrontal cortex or mOFC) combines those data with your preconceived stories about that thing. Together, they form your perception of the dog, but your preconceptions take priority. For instance, if you love dogs, you’ll be inclined to enjoy their presence. Meanwhile, your friend who was attacked by one would find their presence threatening.
Because of our tendency to project our preconceived notions and feelings onto the world, everybody experiences things slightly differently. And it’s not just strong thoughts and feelings that shape our perception. According to Wright, we all have tons of subtle preconceptions and project them throughout our lives. Dogs, pens, cars, potholes, snow—each is paired with subtle thoughts and feelings that shape how we experience and relate to it.
The takeaway is that like Buddhism, science says that none of us see the world as it really is. Because our projection happens beneath the level of our awareness, we believe our perceptions represent the world as it really is. But the world as we see it isn’t really there.
The Solution: Mindfulness Meditation
Up to this point, we’ve seen how Buddhism and modern science agree on some fundamental truths about human nature: We’re caught in a cycle of dissatisfaction, and it’s largely because we don’t see reality. Wright says that although science validates this belief, it doesn’t offer a solution. In contrast, Buddhism does: mindfulness meditation.
Mindfulness Can Improve Individual Lives
Wright explains that mindfulness meditation, a practice from the Vipassana tradition of Theravada Buddhism, involves observing your inner experience with greater objectivity.
While you can practice observing thoughts, feelings, and much more, Wright argues that it’s at the level of feeling that we most need to become mindful. This is because, as discussed above, feelings propel our thoughts and actions—not the other way around. Science supports the idea that we should become mindful of our feelings: For instance, research suggests that paying mindful attention to the feeling of the craving to smoke can be a more effective addiction treatment than medication or nicotine patches.
Each time you mindfully observe a feeling that would typically drive you to action, you create space between that impulse and your response to it. Over time, you learn to step back from your feelings—to watch them pass by from a newfound vantage point alongside your stream of consciousness. Having stepped out of that stream, you’re less likely to get swept away by its contents. For example, you’ll be less likely to give in to a compulsion to scroll through social media instead of staying focused, or a craving to binge another show rather than getting a good night’s sleep.
In this way, practicing mindfulness teaches you to respond, rather than react, to whatever comes along. And as Wright says, this has many benefits: It can help you change your habits, help you see your life more clearly, promote your happiness, and make you more moral. We’ll detail each of these benefits below.
Mindfulness for Habit Change
According to Wright, mindfulness is an effective way to change your habits. He says that mental modules are like muscles—they strengthen in response to repetition or weaken in response to disuse. So, to change your habits, reinforce or deplete modules by simply applying the above practice (step back from, observe, and let pass the feelings that drive an urge). If you want to reinforce a habit, mindfully choose to do so. Likewise, you can mindfully choose not to reinforce unconstructive modules.
For instance, say you mindfully observe and let pass an urge to get angry at someone who insults you. By doing so, you’ll weaken your “anger module” by teaching it that anger isn’t rewarding. At the same time, you’ll strengthen your “self-improvement” module by practicing mindfulness and gaining the reward of releasing an unproductive impulse.
Wright says this approach works better than relying on willpower because resisting impulses doesn’t allow them to pass. And if you’re constantly straining against all sorts of habitual urges, you’ll tire and break before long.
Mindfulness for Clarity, Happiness, and Morality
Wright also contends that mindfulness practice has three key benefits—clarity, happiness, and morality—that reinforce one another. He suggests they interact like this:
- As you practice mindfully observing your inner world, you’ll gain distance from your impulses and reactions, giving you a clearer view of yourself and the world around you.
- As clarity builds, you’ll naturally feel happier and more at ease. Becoming less reactive and seeing things clearly tends to feel good and calming.
- Increased happiness and ease, in turn, motivate you to continue practicing. Seeing that the practice is rewarding, you’ll want to stick to it. And the more you practice, the more clearly you’ll see things.
- More surprising, Wright says, is that a clearer view and the calm it brings also tend to make you behave more morally. He explains that scientists don’t quite know why this is, but expert meditators say it’s typically true.
And the virtuous cycle continues: Behaving morally makes us feel better about ourselves and our place in the world, which encourages more practice, which leads to even clearer perception, and so on. Wright sees this as a happy coincidence—a case where doing what’s good for you as an individual also makes you better for the world.
Mindfulness Can Change Our Shared Future
Last, Wright contends that mindfulness meditation could help bring about a “metacognitive revolution.” He believes this is necessary for humanity to overcome major global challenges, like war and climate change.
(Shortform note: Wright’s choice of the phrase “metacognitive revolution” is telling. While “metacognition” simply refers to our ability to observe and understand our thought processes, his use of “revolution” frames meditation as something more transformative than just a personal practice. Revolutions are radical—for instance, both the Industrial and Digital Revolutions fundamentally changed how society operates. By using this phrasing, then, Wright suggests that widespread mindfulness practice could broadly reorganize society. Such a change would involve not just individual growth and maturation, but also the transformation of global society.)
By teaching us to observe our thoughts and feelings without getting caught up in them, mindfulness helps us see beyond our knee-jerk reactions, biases, and prejudices. Seeing things more clearly, we can then respond thoughtfully, rather than react impulsively, when involved in disagreements or conflicts along “tribal” lines.
For instance, imagine that a climate change activist and a climate change skeptic have a dialogue in which both practice being mindful of their reactionary feelings. In doing so, they could share their fears, desires, and motivations, and thereby have a productive exchange, rather than simply berating one another over their differences.
Wright acknowledges that mindfulness alone won’t fix everything, but he sees it as a necessary part of overcoming humanity’s major struggles and connecting the global human community. One individual, group, and network at a time, he says, people can become less reactive, more empathetic, and more aware of our interconnectedness. In time, the widespread adoption of mindfulness could help us tackle complex, hot-button global issues more skillfully, wisely, and compassionately.
