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Buddhist Biology: Ancient Eastern Wisdom Meets Modern Western Science
Many high-profile public intellectuals -- including "New Atheists" like Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett, and the late Christopher Hitchens -- have argued that religion and science are deeply antagonistic, representing two world views that are utterly incompatible. David Barash, a renowned biologist with forty years of experience, largely agrees with them, but with one very big Buddhism.
In this fascinating book, David Barash highlights the intriguing common ground between scientific and religious thought, illuminating the many parallels between biology and Buddhism, allowing readers to see both in a new way. Indeed, he shows that there are numerous places where Buddhist and biological perspectives coincide and reinforce each other. For instance, the cornerstone ecological concept -- the interconnectedness and interdependence of all natural things -- is remarkably similar to the fundamental insight of Buddhism. Indeed, a major Buddhist text, the Avatamsaka Sutra, which consists of ten insights into the "interpenetration" between beings and their environment, could well have been written by a trained ecologist, just as current insights in evolutionary biology, genetics and development might have been authored by the Buddha himself. Barash underscores other notable similarities, including a shared distrust of simple cause-and-effect analysis, an appreciation of the
"rightness" of nature, along with an acknowledgment of the suffering that results when natural processes are tampered with. Buddhist Biology shows how the concept of "non-self," so confusing to many Westerners, is fully consistent with modern biology, as is the Buddhist perspective of "impermanence." Barash both demystifies and celebrates the biology of Buddhism and vice versa, showing in a concluding tour-de-force how modern Buddhism --shorn of its hocus-pocus and abracadabra -- not only justifies but actually mandates both socially and environmentally "engaged" thought and practice.
Buddhist Biology is a work of unique intellectual synthesis that sheds astonishing light on biology as well as on Buddhism, highlighting the remarkable ways these two perspectives come together, like powerful searchlights that offer complementary and stunning perspectives on the world and our place in it.
In this fascinating book, David Barash highlights the intriguing common ground between scientific and religious thought, illuminating the many parallels between biology and Buddhism, allowing readers to see both in a new way. Indeed, he shows that there are numerous places where Buddhist and biological perspectives coincide and reinforce each other. For instance, the cornerstone ecological concept -- the interconnectedness and interdependence of all natural things -- is remarkably similar to the fundamental insight of Buddhism. Indeed, a major Buddhist text, the Avatamsaka Sutra, which consists of ten insights into the "interpenetration" between beings and their environment, could well have been written by a trained ecologist, just as current insights in evolutionary biology, genetics and development might have been authored by the Buddha himself. Barash underscores other notable similarities, including a shared distrust of simple cause-and-effect analysis, an appreciation of the
"rightness" of nature, along with an acknowledgment of the suffering that results when natural processes are tampered with. Buddhist Biology shows how the concept of "non-self," so confusing to many Westerners, is fully consistent with modern biology, as is the Buddhist perspective of "impermanence." Barash both demystifies and celebrates the biology of Buddhism and vice versa, showing in a concluding tour-de-force how modern Buddhism --shorn of its hocus-pocus and abracadabra -- not only justifies but actually mandates both socially and environmentally "engaged" thought and practice.
Buddhist Biology is a work of unique intellectual synthesis that sheds astonishing light on biology as well as on Buddhism, highlighting the remarkable ways these two perspectives come together, like powerful searchlights that offer complementary and stunning perspectives on the world and our place in it.
218 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2013
18 people are currently reading
430 people want to read
About the author
David Philip Barash
45 books64 followersDavid P. Barash is a Professor of Psychology at the University of Washington, and is notable for books on Human aggression, Peace Studies, and the sexual behavior of animals and people. He has written approximately 30 books in total. He received his bachelor's degree in biology from Harpur College, Binghamton University, and a Ph.D. in zoology from University of Wisconsin–Madison in 1970. He taught at the State University of New York at Oneonta, and then accepted a permanent position at the University of Washington.
His book Natural Selections: selfish altruists, honest liars and other realities of evolution is based on articles in the Chronicle of Higher Education and published in 2007 by Bellevue Literary Press. Immediately before that was Madame Bovary's Ovaries: a Darwinian look at literature, a popular but serious presentation of Darwinian literary criticism, jointly written with his daughter, Nanelle Rose Barash. He has also written over 230 scholarly articles and is a Fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, along with many other honors.
In 2008, a second edition of the textbook Peace and Conflict Studies co-authored with Charles P. Webel was published by Sage. In 2009, Columbia University Press published How Women Got Their Curves and Other Just-So Stories, a book on sex differentiation co-authored with Judith Eve Lipton. This was followed in 2010 by Strange Bedfellows: the surprising connection between sex, evolution and monogamy published by Bellevue Literary Press, and, in 2011, Payback: why we retaliate, redirect aggression and seek revenge, coauthored with Judith Eve Lipton and published by Oxford University Press. His book Homo Mysterious: Evolutionary puzzles of human nature appeared in 2012, also published by Oxford University Press, and in 2013, Sage published the 3rd edition of his text, Peace and Conflict Studies.
His book Natural Selections: selfish altruists, honest liars and other realities of evolution is based on articles in the Chronicle of Higher Education and published in 2007 by Bellevue Literary Press. Immediately before that was Madame Bovary's Ovaries: a Darwinian look at literature, a popular but serious presentation of Darwinian literary criticism, jointly written with his daughter, Nanelle Rose Barash. He has also written over 230 scholarly articles and is a Fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, along with many other honors.
In 2008, a second edition of the textbook Peace and Conflict Studies co-authored with Charles P. Webel was published by Sage. In 2009, Columbia University Press published How Women Got Their Curves and Other Just-So Stories, a book on sex differentiation co-authored with Judith Eve Lipton. This was followed in 2010 by Strange Bedfellows: the surprising connection between sex, evolution and monogamy published by Bellevue Literary Press, and, in 2011, Payback: why we retaliate, redirect aggression and seek revenge, coauthored with Judith Eve Lipton and published by Oxford University Press. His book Homo Mysterious: Evolutionary puzzles of human nature appeared in 2012, also published by Oxford University Press, and in 2013, Sage published the 3rd edition of his text, Peace and Conflict Studies.
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Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
December 27, 2013
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Forgive me a nostalgia trip to 1994, when alt-jazz rockers Soul Coughing released their debut album Ruby Vroom. The lead track was “Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago,” a hypnotic, oddly existential number allegedly inspired by a bad acid trip in which singer Mike Doughty must distinguish between himself and his surroundings.
It made for a great song, but any biologist will tell you it doesn’t hold up to modern science. Or, for that matter, not-so-modern philosophy.
But Doughty was working toward something significant in that trippy little tune: Where does the “I” end and the “everything else” begin?
It may very well be at the intersection of science and spirituality, according to scientist and self-described Buddhist atheist David P. Barash, author of the brilliant Buddhist Biology.
He admits at the beginning that his goal is an ambitious one: to locate common ground where science and spirituality may coexist. Whereas the Abrahamic religions have long been at odds with science, he argues that Buddhist thought is compatible with high school textbooks.
“Why? Because among the key aspects of Buddhism, we find insistence that knowledge must be gained through personal experience rather than reliance on the authority of sacred texts or the teachings of avowed masters, because its orientation is empirical rather than theoretical, and because it rejects any conception of absolutes.” (18)
That is to say, it allows for the scientific method.
Barash eloquently connects the principles of anatman (not-self), anitya (impermanence) and pratityasamputpada (interdependence) to current biological knowledge. Science has shattered the duality of the actor and the environment, and in doing so has validated thousands of years of Buddhist philosophy.
I am particularly interested in anitya, which leads us into discussions regarding the illusion of time and motion. In considering life as a sequence of moments, Barash distinguishes between the experiencing self and the remembering self (which is similar to Sartre’s Pre-Reflective Cogito, but don’t get me started on my boy Jean-Paul).
The main idea is that each moment is unique and temporary. Nothing lasts, except for in memory, through which we develop a narrative and impose continuity.
Now, I’ll leave the scientific explanations to Barash, as I’m not very qualified to give a proper breakdown, and only slightly more so to discuss eastern philosophy. What I am qualified to provide, though , is a recommendation of Buddhist Biology. Barash takes difficult concepts and presents them in a thoroughly readable and enjoyable narrative. You’ll learn new things, brush up on your philosophy and find it difficult to close this book.
You’ll come away with the realization that there is no distinction between Chicago and Not Chicago, Is and Is Not. There is only this moment.
Or more simply put, There Is.
Forgive me a nostalgia trip to 1994, when alt-jazz rockers Soul Coughing released their debut album Ruby Vroom. The lead track was “Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago,” a hypnotic, oddly existential number allegedly inspired by a bad acid trip in which singer Mike Doughty must distinguish between himself and his surroundings.
It made for a great song, but any biologist will tell you it doesn’t hold up to modern science. Or, for that matter, not-so-modern philosophy.
But Doughty was working toward something significant in that trippy little tune: Where does the “I” end and the “everything else” begin?
It may very well be at the intersection of science and spirituality, according to scientist and self-described Buddhist atheist David P. Barash, author of the brilliant Buddhist Biology.
He admits at the beginning that his goal is an ambitious one: to locate common ground where science and spirituality may coexist. Whereas the Abrahamic religions have long been at odds with science, he argues that Buddhist thought is compatible with high school textbooks.
“Why? Because among the key aspects of Buddhism, we find insistence that knowledge must be gained through personal experience rather than reliance on the authority of sacred texts or the teachings of avowed masters, because its orientation is empirical rather than theoretical, and because it rejects any conception of absolutes.” (18)
That is to say, it allows for the scientific method.
Barash eloquently connects the principles of anatman (not-self), anitya (impermanence) and pratityasamputpada (interdependence) to current biological knowledge. Science has shattered the duality of the actor and the environment, and in doing so has validated thousands of years of Buddhist philosophy.
I am particularly interested in anitya, which leads us into discussions regarding the illusion of time and motion. In considering life as a sequence of moments, Barash distinguishes between the experiencing self and the remembering self (which is similar to Sartre’s Pre-Reflective Cogito, but don’t get me started on my boy Jean-Paul).
The main idea is that each moment is unique and temporary. Nothing lasts, except for in memory, through which we develop a narrative and impose continuity.
Now, I’ll leave the scientific explanations to Barash, as I’m not very qualified to give a proper breakdown, and only slightly more so to discuss eastern philosophy. What I am qualified to provide, though , is a recommendation of Buddhist Biology. Barash takes difficult concepts and presents them in a thoroughly readable and enjoyable narrative. You’ll learn new things, brush up on your philosophy and find it difficult to close this book.
You’ll come away with the realization that there is no distinction between Chicago and Not Chicago, Is and Is Not. There is only this moment.
Or more simply put, There Is.
September 18, 2015
Barash draws out the parallels between Buddhism and evolutionary theory. He argues that as life is impermanent and interconnected, there’s no permanent self. Barash then draws out the philosophical implications of these biological facts and their correspondence with Buddhist thought. As there is no biological self, he believes that humans are free to create their essence. Aligned with Sartre this way, Barash refers to his worldview as “existential bio-Buddhism.”
The impermanence of life is clear enough for those who are non-believers, but Barash pushes his other two themes to untenable extremes. First, as genes mutate over time and as we’re modified by our culture, experience, and ideals, Barash argues that there’s no self. But the other side of that argument is that we have inherent temperaments and dispositions that substantially influence what we do and even what we ought to do (i.e., to be “true” to ourselves). These differences can be seen early on in children, though many dispute that. Darwin began his “Origins of the Species” with a discussion of domestic breeding practices to create desired traits and its not clear why we would not have an inherited temperament as well that would constitute some sort of biological self. Even Barash himself lapses into language here and there that supports a notion of a permanent self. Evolution is “callously indifferent to anything but self and gene betterment,” he writes. Kin selection is about an “extended genetic self.” And, he wants us to control “our nature as contained in our genes.” What might these selves and this nature be if we are, in his Buddhistic terms, “not self”?*
In evolutionary terms, we are transformed through time, but what is it, exactly, that is transformed? If it is the replication impulse operating blindly, that still begs a larger question: replication favors certain behaviors and ways to go about the business of survival, in which case would these not be predisposed character patterns? Could it be that we have both a permanent self that essentially defines who we are and a variable self that fills underlying biological form with specific, cultural and experiential content? If we are fearful about death, for example, we can create various paths to eternity beyond death (e.g., Christianity, Hinduism and Buddhism [later versions]).
Second, while we are interconnected with cosmic dust and energy it’s a stretch to say we can be (should be?) connected to it through some form of universal attachment. Given the variability that goes with Darwinian evolution, it’s likely as Barash believes that many are inherent nurturers with the capacity (via mirror neurons?) to identify with the plight of other humans, and even in some cases with life itself. But, acknowledging the obvious, it’s also likely that many are indifferent to the good of the whole and care (and can care) only about the self.
Third, Barash says biology can provide us with no ethical guidelines because of the naturalistic fallacy. Even if we could, he writes that the natural world does not provide “a model of how human beings ought to behave.” “It does no such thing,” he writes, because nature “is neither pleasant nor moral.” And so, Barash removes biology from his prescriptive theory. Going back to Plato,** he argues that we use reason to create our own essence and meaning. Well, in a way, that’s what Stalin and Hitler did. Of course, we can say that we are free to do X, but with Schopenhauer we can ask why choose X over Y? What does reason push off from? What direction do we go?
This is where underlying biological structures that form behavior take on a new significance. What might these biological structures contain? Sure, there’s ego and self-interest and all of that, but there are also those social instincts that make us compassionate, cooperative and considerate, at least for our own “tribe.”*** Even deeper, where do freedom and equality and justice come from if not our biology? Could it be that our need to survive is all about freedom, not only to seek what we need but to defend ourselves against threats to our freedom? Isn’t equality about our need to defend against imposition? Even if we are not inherent nurturers, we can even see that, as a pragmatic matter, and as a deduction from our biological need to be free, mutual respect is necessary to avoid disorder and harm for our own interests.
As a final point, Barash has to engage in a substantial reinterpretation of Buddhist thinking to make it work with biology. Early Buddhism was about withdrawing from the world whereas Barash wants it to be about our engagement with it. And, as another example, he reinterprets reincarnation to mean the literal recycling of our bodies at death. Barash calls his version Buddhism 2.0, which stands in contrast with what others see as the real Buddhism (version 1.0). Biology can stand on its own ground and talk about self, impermanence and interconnectedness in meaningful philosophical ways without redefining Buddhism in this way.
*Also, in a recent book review, Barash writes that sexual reproduction creates “genetic diversity.” Presumably, variability applies to temperament-behavior traits as well as physical traits. The topic of diversity, including variability of temperament and disposition, is covered extensively by Darwin’s associate, George John Romanes, in his “Mental Evolution in Animals” (1884). In writing this book, Romanes relied heavily on Darwin’s research notes.
** Barash uses Plato’s “Laws” to make a point that we use “reason” to reclaim our independence and our unique status as autonomous ‘entities.’ This is interesting as Plato’s divine, eternal, spiritual “reality” is everything that Barash opposes (Barash calls any belief in a spiritual world “a fairy tale”) and Plato’s “rationality” is about understanding that world and how to access it. And, except for an enlightened few, Plato’s “Laws” was about control of the populace, not its autonomy.
***Since we have no essence, Barash denies our biologically-based social nature, yet he presumes such a nature when he urges us to love all beings. Why would we do that if there’s no motivation to do so?
The impermanence of life is clear enough for those who are non-believers, but Barash pushes his other two themes to untenable extremes. First, as genes mutate over time and as we’re modified by our culture, experience, and ideals, Barash argues that there’s no self. But the other side of that argument is that we have inherent temperaments and dispositions that substantially influence what we do and even what we ought to do (i.e., to be “true” to ourselves). These differences can be seen early on in children, though many dispute that. Darwin began his “Origins of the Species” with a discussion of domestic breeding practices to create desired traits and its not clear why we would not have an inherited temperament as well that would constitute some sort of biological self. Even Barash himself lapses into language here and there that supports a notion of a permanent self. Evolution is “callously indifferent to anything but self and gene betterment,” he writes. Kin selection is about an “extended genetic self.” And, he wants us to control “our nature as contained in our genes.” What might these selves and this nature be if we are, in his Buddhistic terms, “not self”?*
In evolutionary terms, we are transformed through time, but what is it, exactly, that is transformed? If it is the replication impulse operating blindly, that still begs a larger question: replication favors certain behaviors and ways to go about the business of survival, in which case would these not be predisposed character patterns? Could it be that we have both a permanent self that essentially defines who we are and a variable self that fills underlying biological form with specific, cultural and experiential content? If we are fearful about death, for example, we can create various paths to eternity beyond death (e.g., Christianity, Hinduism and Buddhism [later versions]).
Second, while we are interconnected with cosmic dust and energy it’s a stretch to say we can be (should be?) connected to it through some form of universal attachment. Given the variability that goes with Darwinian evolution, it’s likely as Barash believes that many are inherent nurturers with the capacity (via mirror neurons?) to identify with the plight of other humans, and even in some cases with life itself. But, acknowledging the obvious, it’s also likely that many are indifferent to the good of the whole and care (and can care) only about the self.
Third, Barash says biology can provide us with no ethical guidelines because of the naturalistic fallacy. Even if we could, he writes that the natural world does not provide “a model of how human beings ought to behave.” “It does no such thing,” he writes, because nature “is neither pleasant nor moral.” And so, Barash removes biology from his prescriptive theory. Going back to Plato,** he argues that we use reason to create our own essence and meaning. Well, in a way, that’s what Stalin and Hitler did. Of course, we can say that we are free to do X, but with Schopenhauer we can ask why choose X over Y? What does reason push off from? What direction do we go?
This is where underlying biological structures that form behavior take on a new significance. What might these biological structures contain? Sure, there’s ego and self-interest and all of that, but there are also those social instincts that make us compassionate, cooperative and considerate, at least for our own “tribe.”*** Even deeper, where do freedom and equality and justice come from if not our biology? Could it be that our need to survive is all about freedom, not only to seek what we need but to defend ourselves against threats to our freedom? Isn’t equality about our need to defend against imposition? Even if we are not inherent nurturers, we can even see that, as a pragmatic matter, and as a deduction from our biological need to be free, mutual respect is necessary to avoid disorder and harm for our own interests.
As a final point, Barash has to engage in a substantial reinterpretation of Buddhist thinking to make it work with biology. Early Buddhism was about withdrawing from the world whereas Barash wants it to be about our engagement with it. And, as another example, he reinterprets reincarnation to mean the literal recycling of our bodies at death. Barash calls his version Buddhism 2.0, which stands in contrast with what others see as the real Buddhism (version 1.0). Biology can stand on its own ground and talk about self, impermanence and interconnectedness in meaningful philosophical ways without redefining Buddhism in this way.
*Also, in a recent book review, Barash writes that sexual reproduction creates “genetic diversity.” Presumably, variability applies to temperament-behavior traits as well as physical traits. The topic of diversity, including variability of temperament and disposition, is covered extensively by Darwin’s associate, George John Romanes, in his “Mental Evolution in Animals” (1884). In writing this book, Romanes relied heavily on Darwin’s research notes.
** Barash uses Plato’s “Laws” to make a point that we use “reason” to reclaim our independence and our unique status as autonomous ‘entities.’ This is interesting as Plato’s divine, eternal, spiritual “reality” is everything that Barash opposes (Barash calls any belief in a spiritual world “a fairy tale”) and Plato’s “rationality” is about understanding that world and how to access it. And, except for an enlightened few, Plato’s “Laws” was about control of the populace, not its autonomy.
***Since we have no essence, Barash denies our biologically-based social nature, yet he presumes such a nature when he urges us to love all beings. Why would we do that if there’s no motivation to do so?
November 19, 2014
I found the first half -- in which Barash makes a case for the congruence between Buddhism and contemporary biological science -- to be quite fascinating and provocative, so much so that I bought the book in hardcover (to augment the digital form I originally read). I want to go back and review all that he covered. It certainly raises the question: so what? If the Buddha and modern biologists agree about the basic nature of life in the universe, what does that imply secular humanists (and students of biology) about how to live in that universe? I found Barash's suggestions in the second half to be less than electrifying, if interesting. But for the first time in my life, I'd like to learn more about Buddhism, thanks to him.
January 1, 2021
Really compelling idea, but very dry and disjointed delivery. Felt like a he went along a buffet of science to choose what best aligned with Buddhist ideas. While I agree with much of what he says, I also feel he missed out on the opportunity to address that we don’t NEED science to validate Buddhism, as it as a system itself should be self-validating. Our system of western science can provide additional context and interrelate with it, but it is not necessary to prove Buddhism is “true” (as another writer has put it). Generally includes a broad array of relatively recent science as it pertains to inter being, delusion of selfhood, and origins of suffering.
October 23, 2021
I really wanted to like this book - I love biology, and I'm interested in Buddhism. Unfortunately, I could barely make it through the first 30 pages, which Barash uses to detail all the ways that biology and Buddhism differ. This was a weirdly negative way to open a book specifically about the ways that they are similar!
The way Barash talks about certain Buddhist beliefs and traditions as "wacky" if they don't have a basis in modern Western science struck me as arrogant and racist. As another reviewer put it, Buddhism doesn't need to be corroborated by science in order to be valid.
The way Barash talks about certain Buddhist beliefs and traditions as "wacky" if they don't have a basis in modern Western science struck me as arrogant and racist. As another reviewer put it, Buddhism doesn't need to be corroborated by science in order to be valid.
July 23, 2017
I guess I don't know this for certain, but it seems like a nice way to introduce Buddhism. Not being Buddhist, I can't say for sure. Would a Buddhist or a religious expert care to comment?
I went into this more expecting The Universe in a Single Atom but it's not exactly the same thing. It's similar, but it's not really: "the same book, but biology". So keep that in mind.
I went into this more expecting The Universe in a Single Atom but it's not exactly the same thing. It's similar, but it's not really: "the same book, but biology". So keep that in mind.
December 22, 2019
This is an interesting look at an approach to being a biologist. If I were young and just starting in the field, I would probably find the author's approach of interest and might even follow some of his leads. However, I'm a long-time already retired biologist.
February 1, 2022
Could be difficult to read and repetitive at times but I really valued the connections he made between real biology and Buddhism.
Read
February 3, 2025some very interesting and salient points mired in a bunch of bad writing and overly insistent new atheism
March 23, 2015
Interesting juxtaposition of ideas about Buddhism, biology and existentialism. He has some fine points to make about rising above natural selection, which determines that our genes will continue but says nothing about our quality of life, and the ways in which Buddhism and existentialism help us consider that quality of life. He also explores how these are not divergent viewpoints but connect in important ways. My major argument is that he is so very unimaginative about mystery; it's as though if it cannot be explained scientifically, then it cannot happen, and he is insultingly dismissive, in a way he considers humorous, of those who might still consider there are mysteries we cannot yet comprehend. I actually see this as insulting to science as well; perhaps someday those things we cannot see will be seen, thanks to science, but in the meantime, our own humility should help us hold the unknowable more lightly and without contempt.
July 28, 2014
The author, a UW prof in psychology and evolutionary biologist, describes this book "is concerned not only with identifying parallels and convergences between Buddhism and biology (its avowed purpose), but also with promoting this wider focus, aligning itself with a gently subversive movement with mainstream Buddhism that Stephen Batchelor calls 'Buddhism 2.0.' ... For all the similarities, and convergences that characterize Buddhism and biology…, there are some notable differences, including the easily overlooked fact that biology—like other sciences—makes use of objectively quantified data, whereas Buddhism employs the subjective inout of personal experience.” David P. Barash provides us a clear account of his thinking.
July 31, 2014
Some parallels with what we talk about in Denver Lab, though Dr. Barash's examples are drawn from a wider range of biology.
Read
March 11, 2015The book and potential, but I needed to return it to the library. I wanted to like it more.
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews