[F]orasmuch as the laws of nature are nought else but the dictates of reason; so as, unless a man endeavour to preserve the faculty of right reasoning, he cannot observe the laws of nature; it is manifest, that he who knowingly or willingly doth aught whereby the rational faculty may be destroyed or weakened, he knowingly and willingly breaks the law of nature. For there is no difference between a man who performs not his duty, and him who does such things willingly as makes it impossible for him to do it. But they destroy and weaken the reasoning faculty, who do that which disturbs the mind from its natural state; that which most manifestly happens to drunkards, and gluttons. We therefore sin … against the law of nature by drunkenness. — Thomas Hobbes
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Like weakness of will, addiction is a secondary failure of intentional agency, which derives from akrasia, a primary failure of intentional agency. [….] Unlike weakness of will, addiction is associated with a sense of compulsion rather than merely giving in to some guilty pleasure or other. The contrast is frequently posited in recent philosophical works on weakness of will. However, no positive account has been offered as to why we should distinguish the two phenomena in this way, though of course skeptics about weakness of will have presented arguments for the insignificance of this contrast and proponents have aimed to refute these arguments. Applied to addiction and weakness of will, the actualization model provides such a positive account. Weak-willed pursuits depend on being perceived as pleasurable, albeit unworthy. Once a weak-willed agent experiences these pursuits as fundamentally disappointing sources of pleasure, she also grows out of weakness of will. By contrast, addictive behavior transcends the experience of pleasure initially associated with the object of addiction. As illustrated by De Quincey [Confessions of an English Opium-Eater] and Dostoevsky [Notes from the Underground and The Gambler], addiction is bound to survive addicts’ recurrence experience of their addiction as harmful, distressing, and painful. In this respect, addiction is not just a recalcitrant form of akrasia, which is essentially true of weakness of will, but more importantly, a form of akrasia that is utterly devoid of pleasure. Paradoxically, or ironically, being devoid of pleasure is what makes addiction compulsive: the pursuit of a specter of pleasure is bound to be insatiable. In this sense, addiction could be said to involve a disoriented, if not a disordered appetite.
The difference between weakness of will and addiction is not one of degree but of kind. … [T]he pleasure that could be derived from the object of future addiction is already blow out of proportion before the onset of addiction and even before any actual first-hand experience of the object. [….] [S]ome authors aim to avoid framing problems of addiction in explicitly evaluative terms since they consider that this would further stigmatize people with addiction. [….] [N]egative moral appraisal strengthens the person with addiction by reengaging with her as an apt valuer that could also act under the guise of the good, not only the apparent—and disappearing—good of her addiction. For … evaluative immaturity is what necessarily leads to less than successful pursuits, such as akrasia, weakness of will, and addiction. At the same time, however, evaluative immaturity is always object- or pursuit-centered rather than global: less than successful agency still takes place under the guise of the good. And so success in action is never completely out of sight. — Lubomira Radoilska
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“It is as easy to deceive ourselves without noticing it as it is hard to deceive others without their noticing.” — La Rochefoucauld
“We are so used to disguising ourselves from others that we end by disguising ourselves from ourselves.” — La Rochefoucauld
“Over the long term, you are more likely to fool yourself than others.” — Nassim Nicholas Taleb1
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Āryāṣṭāṅgamārga (Skt., आर्याष्टाङ्गमार्ग) is translated as the “noble eightfold path” in Buddhism, the path that brings an end to the two primary causes of suffering (inordinate desire and ignorance) and thus it’s the fourth of the “four truths known by the spiritually noble ones” (catvāry āryasatyāni), mistranslated but commonly known as the “four noble truths.” The Eightfold Path in Buddhism is tripartite in structure, with meditation (samādhi समाधि) only one part of this threefold division (and each part, in turn as two or three components*), the other two parts being sīla (शील) or ethics, broadly construed, and prajñā (प्रज्ञा) or insight into the true nature of reality (involving both ‘discriminating knowledge’ and ‘intuitive apprehension’). Yet it seems when the question is asked of someone if he or she is a Buddhist and an affirmative response follows, the very next question typically concerns meditation (‘Do you meditate?’), and thus it seems “outsider” knowledge of this religious worldview, in the first instance at least, associates Buddhism with mind training generally and meditation practice in particular. Yet even among some Buddhist practitioners one finds a similar stress or preoccupation with meditation, hence comparatively little attention is devoted to the other two parts of the Eightfold Path. I don’t have a good explanation for why this is so, but perhaps neglect of the ethical dimension follows from the assumption that religious ethics of one kind or another are commonplace to religions. This may be accompanied by the thought that Buddhism proffers nothing unique on this score. And what about prajñā? I raise this issue by way of reiterating the fact that the three parts of the Eightfold Path are meant to be complementary and mutually reinforcing and thus neglect of any one part negatively affects both one’s grasp of basic Buddhist teachings and proper Buddhist spiritual praxis.
(This list has the Pāli translations sans diacritics.)
- Right understanding (samma ditthi)
- Right thought (samma sankappa)
- Right speech (samma vaca)
- Right action (samma kammanta)
- Right livelihood (samma ajiva)
- Right effort (samma vayama)
- Right mindfulness (samma sati)
- Right concentration (samma samadhi)
* Tripartite division: I = 1 and 2; II = 3, 4, and 5; and III = 6, 7, and 8
I introduce this fundamental framework for Buddhist teaching as a background to something that falls within Buddhist morality or śīla (Skt.), namely, the “five precepts” (pañcaśīla). These precepts are said to be the form the foundation of Buddhist ethics for both lay and monastic devotees (in other words, this does not exhaust the scope of Buddhist ethics, especially for monks and nuns). The five are: (i) to abstain from killing sentient beings, (ii) to abstain from stealing, (iii) to refrain from sexual misconduct (what this specifically entails is controversial and thus contested, with differences often owing to schools, teachers, and geography; one broad criterion entails avoidance of causing suffering through one’s sexual behavior), (iv) to abstain from lying and other forms of harmful speech, and (v) avoidance of intoxicants (that cause ‘heedlessness’), in positive terms, the practice of sobriety.
There are a number of nuanced treatments of these precepts by scholars inside and outside of Buddhism proper but I’ll cite here only one I’ve found particularly helpful: Peter Harvey’s treatment in An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics (Cambridge University Press, 2000): 60-122. Harvey relates the failure to observe the fifth and last precept to its effect on the pursuit of “right mindfulness” (7. above) in particular, but one can find sufficient reason to link it to all parts of the Eightfold Path. He notes, however, the fact that breaking the fifth precept can lend itself to a disposition to break the other four precepts as well! The Buddha himself listed myriad baneful consequences from drunkenness, some well-known to us from our experience with and understanding of alcoholism, others harming our ability to be act virtuously or follow the Buddhist spiritual path. This amounts, I would argue, to a non-fallacious slippery slope argument. One Mahāyāna commentator, Jinaputra, seems to have believed that “carefully drinking a small amount of alcohol, with no desire for intoxication, is not reprehensible in itself, but is best avoided for what it may lead to.” By way of closing our introduction to this precept (there is much more that has and can be said), I’ll share one paragraph from Harvey’s discussion:
“While making a living by the sale of alcohol is seen as ‘wrong livelihood’ [5. above], Buddhists are not generally puritanical about drinking. It would be seen as bad form for a Buddhist who is avoiding alcohol to look down on others who are drinking it in his or her company; rather, it would be appropriate to tune in to their happy frame of mind [an interesting assumption here, as a ‘happy frame of mind’ is not invariably common to those who are drinking together] without having to resort to alcohol [this can be difficult to do, especially if one is trying assiduously to avoid drinking owing to a personal history of problems associated with same, as is the case of course with ‘alcoholics;’ see Jon Elster’s brilliant account of pre-commitment and ‘self-binding’ strategies by way of reducing or eliminating the desire or temptation to drink in Ulysses Unbound: Studies in Rationality, Precommitment, and Constraints (2000): 63-77]. Unlike some Muslim countries, no Buddhist country bans the sale or consumption of alcohol….”
In an earlier post, I highlighted Hobbes’s unusual and surprising argument against Christian missionary activity as a violation of the Law of Nature (its ‘reciprocity theorem’) and “natural reason.” This time round I’d like to share another provocative argument from Hobbes derived from his Law of Nature, one that forbids drunkenness and other forms of intemperance. What stood out for me was, like the Buddhist, Hobbes ties his principal objection intoxication to a high probability for what we might term a slippery slope of adverse consequences. In the words of S.A. (Sharon) Lloyd, “The reason why the Law of Nature forbids drunkenness and other intemperance is that such intemperance impairs our exercise of the rational powers we must use to follow the law of nature.” For the Buddhist, intoxication impairs mind-training and leads in general to what we call weakness of will (akrasia), which may lead to breaking other moral precepts or the kind of behavior strays from the path of Buddhist spiritual praxis as outlined in the Eightfold Path. Again, with Hobbes,
“Intemperance can be understood as forbidden by the Laws of Nature insofar as it compromises people’s ability to observe those laws; not because it harms the agent personally [of course it typically does this as well], rather only because it may contribute to actions by individual agents that do damage to the common good, and in violation of the Law of Nature.”
While Buddhism speaks to the harms that may befall the individual Buddhist in a state of intoxication, the effects redound to others as well, in other words, they increase the quotient of suffering of those interacting with such an individual. In short, such behavior does nothing to reduce suffering in the world, indeed, quite the converse, and thus it is in pragmatic and doctrinal contradiction to Buddhist teachings, much like intemperance is in pragmatic and doctrinal contradiction to Hobbes’s Law of Nature (or several ‘laws’ of nature).
References and Further Reading
- Elster, Jon. Strong Feelings: Emotion, Addiction and Human Behavior (MIT Press, 1999).
- Elster, Jon. Ulysses Unbound: Studies in Rationality, Precommitment, and Constraints (Cambridge University Press, 2000).
- Fingarette, Herbert. Heavy Drinking: The Myth of Alcoholism as a Disease (University of California Press, 1988).
- Harvey, Peter. An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics (Cambridge University Press, 2000).
- Lloyd, S.A. Morality in the Philosophy of Thomas Hobbes: Cases in the Law of Nature (Cambridge University Press, 2009).
- Radoilska, Lubomira. Addiction and Weakness of Will (Oxford University Press, 2013).
Note
- Cf. Elster: “Many addicts deny that they have a problem or, if they admit it, deny that they can do anything about it. Here are some of the stock phrases of addictive thinking:
- I am only a social drinker.
- I can quit any time I want to.
- I’ll quit tomorrow.
[I’ve left out those phrases not having to do with the problem drinker or alcoholic.]
Addicts often confuse cause and effect, saying, for instance, that they drink because of a marital problem when it is actually the other way around. Although alcoholics and gamblers may be especially prone to deceive others in order to get to the next drink or the next gamble or to explain away what they have done, they also tend to deceive themselves. More generally, the addict can respond to his predicament in one of three ways: by escaping from his awareness of it, by denying it, and by trying to quit. The alcoholic, for instance, may drown his guilt in alcohol, affirm that he is only a social drinker, or join the Alcoholics Anonymous. The first two responses obey the pleasure principle, the last the reality principle. Many addicts have two strong desires: the desire to consume and the desire to stop consuming. In the struggle for self-control, now the one, now the other desire seems to be gaining the upper hand. The most effective strategies for self-control seem to be private rules and strategies of precommitment [on these rules and strategies see Elster’s Ulysses Unbound, above]. Whichever technique is used, we observe a qualitative change in addictive behavior from the moment when self-control becomes important. [….] The transition from being a heavy drinker to a self-acknowledged problem drinker triggers similar changes. At the same time, a number of deceptive and self-deceptive mechanisms come into play. Ambivalence is a hallmark of serious addiction in humans.” From Elster’s Strong Feelings (above): 73-74.
See too this compilation: Addiction—Transdisciplinary Perspectives