Seminars

This paper presents a debate between a 9th century Nyāya philosopher, Jayanta Bhaṭṭa, and his Mīmāṃsā interlocutor, on the nature of doubt. In particular, the debate centers on the question of whether, when a cognition arises, we are necessarily in doubt about its epistemic status. Jayanta’s Mīmāṃsā interlocutor argues that the mental state of doubt is characterized by indeterminacy and involves a dilemmatic structure whereby the mind wavers between two or more incompatible judgements (i.e. is the object in front of me a tree trunk or a person?). On the other hand, through looking at a specific case of doubt, Jayanta argues that doubt need not have the standard dilemmatic structure nor the accompanying experience of ambivalence. In particular, Jayanta argues that there is doubt about the epistemic status of a cognition just in case the epistemic agent has not ascertained the epistemic status of that cognition. After unpacking this debate, I relate it to contemporary discussions of doubt. Ultimately, I argue that Jayanta’s account of doubt, while unintuitive, yields some unexpected advantages over more familiar and intuitive conceptions of doubt.

South Asian authors in the tradition of Buddhist epistemology defended causal and empirical accounts of mind and knowledge similar to the approach of contemporary cognitive science. These views could make an updated version of their outlook well suited to respond to the practical and intellectual questions posed by artificial intelligence (AI); but there are important objections to such a project. The tradition faced a problem of apparent self-referential inconsistency: its core thesis that there are exactly two types of epistemic warrants, perception and inference, could not be validated either by perception or by inference. Moreover, Dan Arnold has argued that the commentator Dharmottara saw the inadequacy of, and so quietly abandoned, Dharmakīrti’s causal understanding of knowledge. These objections can be answered. Self-referential inconsistency can be avoided by retreating from an empiricist theory to an “empirical stance” grounded in early Buddhist texts. Arnold’s interpretive claims about the key passage in Dharmottara are highly dubious. In fact, the contours of recent progress in AI provide considerable support to empirical approaches to knowledge over rationalist ones. And the development of computer vision supports Buddhist views of perception against criticisms from Uddyotakara and Kumārila. There is room for hope that a modernized form of Buddhist epistemology could be helpful in meeting the challenges of a dawning age of AI.

The recent literature has witnessed a somewhat surprising development in the Western understanding of Nāgārjuna’s Madhyamaka Buddhism: it has been argued that the full-blown PSR – the principle according to which everything has a reason for its existence – is at work in Nāgārjuna’s Mūlamadhyamakakārikā (MMK). This is surprising because the PSR is commonly taken to be the hallmark of rationalism, whereas Nāgārjuna is not typically associated with a rationalist tradition. Indeed, it is not uncommon even to take Nāgārjuna as advancing a radical kind of anti-rationalism. One means by which we might resist this conclusion is by establishing that although for Nāgārjuna everything has a reason it is not the case that everything has a sufficient reason. Evidence for such a view might be found in Nāgārjuna’s antifoundationalist metaphysic. I argue that although promising, appeal to Nāgārjuna’s antifoundationalism does not secure the means by which we can deny the consistency of the metaphysic of the MMK with the PSR. In spite of this negative conclusion, however, much of value is learned along the way. In particular, I argue that what is at issue between the PSR-embracer and the PSR-detractor (of a certain stripe, at least) is not the PSR itself, but an ancillary principle that connects reasons with sufficient reasons.

Why does Mengzi tell rulers that their love of wealth and women poses no obstacle to ideal rulership, even as he venerates sage kings who seemingly lack such desires? How can he advocate for universal moral response in the child-in-the-well scenario while explicitly rejecting impartial concern? Why does he advise King Xuan to avoid looking at sacrificial oxen—effectively telling him to ignore his compassionate impulses—if moral sprouts are meant to guide ethical action? And why does he reject merit-based appointments, favoring hereditary offices, while advocating ethical transformation of government? These persistent interpretive puzzles have led some scholars to conclude that Mengzi’s philosophy is fundamentally conflicted. In this talk, I propose that these puzzles dissolve when we shift our focus from theoretical systematization to dao construction. Rather than seeing Mengzi primarily as a theorist of human nature, a virtue ethicist, or a political philosopher, I argue he is best understood as a constructor of dao: an engineer of workable frameworks for guiding conduct and organizing social life. Like an engineer, Mengzi builds with available resources—human psychology, institutions, cultural forms—within real-world constraints, prioritizing sustainability over theoretical purity. This “pragmatic constructivist” reading explains Mengzi’s characteristic patterns: motivational permissiveness (redirecting self-interested desires rather than suppressing them), institutional conservatism (preserving Zhou structures while fostering ethical renewal), and accommodation of natural family attachments (without making them the normative foundation). Instead of demanding universal emotional expansion, Mengzi engineers coordination mechanisms that work with human nature, social realities, and political structures as they actually exist. I aim to show how this engineering approach resolves longstanding interpretive difficulties and reveals Mengzi as a systematic social engineer whose methodology remains relevant for contemporary debates on moral and political progress.

Finnigan (2024) used decision-theoretic tools to argue that the Buddha, in the Apaṇṇaka Sutta, presents a decision-problem under uncertainty about whether to 'wager' for karma and rebirth. It showed that he resolves this decision-problem using dominance (superdominance, even superduperdominance) reasoning, but raised three objections to the idea that we are rationally required to accept this wager: the many rebirths objection, the redundancy objection, and the unnecessary expectations objection. Nevertheless, the article ended with a motivational concession: the Buddha's Wager might at least provide one more reason for someone to act well, if they so needed. This is because the two kinds of outcomes the wager envisions – social and karmic – depend on the individual using the view at issue to inform their conduct. This talk examines a challenge to that concession; namely, that it undermines the rationality of the wager by providing a bad reason for acting well. Call this the self-undermining objection. The Buddha describes his wager as a “lucky throw” that, when “accepted and undertaken… will lead to welfare and happiness for a long time.” Does accepting this wager actually constitute an “unlucky throw”—one that ultimately undermines the very welfare and happiness the Buddha asserts the wager would bring?

This talk will explore deontic concepts in the Mīmāṃsā school of Sanskrit philosophy, also looking at Mīmāṃsā-influenced jurisprudence (Dharmaśāstra). I will start with the basics of the system, that is, how prescriptions and prohibitions are not mutually definable ("X is obligatory" is not tantamount to "not-X is forbidden" and "Y is forbidden" is not tantamount to "not-Y is obligatory") and then move on to how permissions are not defined as the counterpart of prohibitions ("Z is permitted" is not tantamount to "Z is not forbidden"). In other words, for Mīmāṃsā authors it is not the case that whatever is not prohibited is permitted. In contrast, Vedic permissions are always considered to be exceptions to previous prohibitions or negative obligations. I will then consider how Mīmāṃsā authors can deal with what Euro-American authors consider to be "free-standing" permissions, such as "Every human being is allowed to attend school until 18" (considered by some to be grounding rights). Could this concept have some resemblance with the Mīmāṃsā category of adhikāra?

This talk considers a neglected argument against monism found in the classical Chinese text Zhuāngzǐ. This argument, which I call ‘the speech argument’, centres on the problem of speaking about the One. A.C. Graham once observed that the speech argument is similar to Plato’s ‘names argument’ against Parmenidean monism in the Sophist, and scholars have continued to assume that Zhuāngzǐ’s target is akin to Parmenidean monism. I argue that the basis for the connection is far more tenuous than scholars recognize. Both the structure of Zhuāngzǐ’s argument and the nature of its target are more complex than the comparison with Plato suggests. Plato’s argument targets a version of monism according to which there is only one undifferentiated, partless thing. By contrast, Zhuāngzǐ’s dialectical opponent, Huìzǐ, espouses a more viable and perhaps even appealing kind of monism, since Huìzǐ’s One admits of parts. Huìzǐ’s more generous monism resembles modern priority monism not only in this respect, but also in that it posits a unique ‘maximal’ entity, the whole, where the whole is taken to be more basic than its parts. Zhuāngzǐ’s speech argument, I argue, successfully challenges Huizian generous monism, a kind of proto-priority monism. Once we acknowledge how Zhuāngzǐ’s argument is not a mere replica of Plato’s argument, we can appreciate the distinctive philosophical value both of Huìzǐ’s monist view, and of the objection that Zhuāngzǐ levels against that view. In this way, even though—or because—the initial comparison is imperfect, the comparative exercise turns out to be illuminating.

In 2019, a humanoid robot named Mindar delivered its first Buddhist sermon at Kōdaiji Temple in Kyoto, Japan. Designed to resemble Kannon, the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy, Mindar recited the Buddha's teachings from the Heart Sūtra, a central Buddhist text that explores the concept of emptiness. Against the serene backdrop of Kōdaiji’s traditional architecture, Mindar's presence was a striking fusion of modern technology and centuries-old tradition. While Mindar was largely well-received in Japan, its debut sparked skepticism abroad. A robot delivering Buddhist teachings challenges the traditional image of Zen as a human-centred practice. But why a robot? Couldn’t Kōdaiji have invited a human priest to deliver the teachings? The rise of Mindar invites us to reconsider the intersection of culture, philosophy, technology, tradition, and religion, asking deep questions about the role of AI in spiritual practice. This talk will explore the surprising and longstanding relationship between Buddhism and technology, raising profound questions about the potential and limitations of AI. Zen, often associated with simplicity, mindfulness, and tranquility, has become a cultural touchstone for many seeking peace in a fast-paced, technology-driven world. However, there has been little exploration of how Zen’s philosophy can inform our relationship with technology. This talk will bring these Zen insights to light, showing how they offer a unique perspective on navigating the challenges of modern life and help us understand the intersection of technology, spirituality, and human experience.

Spurred partly by recent attempts to ethically assess various negative effects of the attention economy, philosophers have begun to pay more attention to the role that attention plays in our ethical lives. This has included some more general discussion of the ethics of attention. In this talk, I add to this recent discussion by outlining a proposal for a comprehensive ethics of attention. On my proposal, an ethics of attention includes norms that stem from the role that attention plays in the formation of our character, in constituting our relationships and social roles, and in our other ethical decision making and behavior. Because of attention’s nature as a finite resource, and because our various roles and relationships involve interpersonal expectations for how others allocate their attention, an ethics of attention should provide norms that govern how we collectively allocate our attention among these morally important purposes. Because these morally important purposes are all competing for our attention, one goal of an ethics of attention should be to find practices that help to synergize how people meet these demands. I call such a set of practices a “social-attentional scheme”, and propose that the ultimate goal of an ethics of attention is to find an optimal social-attentional scheme. I conclude by discussing the various ways in which we can understand early Confucian ethics as providing us with one such social-attentional scheme, and propose some lessons we can take from this Confucian example as we try to continue developing a contemporary ethics of attention.

A standard introduction to classical Confucianism teaches that Mengzi thought “human nature is good” and Xunzi, that “human nature is bad”. But the exact nature of their disagreement is subject to ongoing debate, with some underplaying the disagreement (they just mean different things by “human nature”) while others take the disagreement to be about the nature of agency, moral education, or dispositions. In this talk, I’ll argue that Agnes Callard’s distinction between ambition and aspiration helps us clarify what the disagreement is about. Mengzi thought humans need to fully pursue the values they already have, while Xunzi thought humans need to aspire towards values they don’t have and aren’t predisposed to. This account has the benefit of capturing Mengzi’s and Xunzi’s respective views on agency and education and providing Xunzi with a picture of moral motivation that even a selfish agent could develop.

Much of contemporary ethical theory in Analytic philosophy has been characterized by evaluating actions by appeal to either the motives that produce them or the effects that follow. Attempts to understand Buddhist ethics in terms of this debate, I argue, have been distorting and an obstacle in cross-cultural interactions. I appeal to a particular Buddhist account of the nature of action to suggest a distinctive and philosophically attractive way of thinking about actions and how to assess them.

I relate an approach to causation from Huayan Buddhism to an emerging research program from analytic metaphysics. The research program is Causal Dispositionalism. The core commitment of Causal Dispositionalism is that causation involves dynamic causal powers. Causal Dispositionalism competes with Neo-Humeanism, a research program that conceptualizes causation as a relation among powerless, causally inert properties. Some scholars claim that approaches to causation from the Madhyamaka Buddhist tradition cohere with Neo-Humeanism. Some also claim that Huayan Buddhism is a Chinese appropriation of Nãgarjuna's Madhyamaka. Taken together, these claims entail that the Huayan approach to causation also coheres with Neo- Humeanism. I suggest, to the contrary, that Huayan integrates Madhyamaka insights with a powers-based metaphysics and thereby better coheres with Causal Dispositionalism. I suggest, as well, that the Huayan approach affords new strategies for developing this emerging research program.

Spurred partly by recent attempts to ethically assess various negative effects of the attention economy, philosophers have begun to pay more attention to the role that attention plays in our ethical lives. This has included some more general discussion of the ethics of attention. In this talk, I add to this recent discussion by outlining a proposal for a comprehensive ethics of attention. On my proposal, an ethics of attention includes norms that stem from the role that attention plays in the formation of our character, in constituting our relationships and social roles, and in our other ethical decision making and behavior. Because of attention’s nature as a finite resource, and because our various roles and relationships involve interpersonal expectations for how others allocate their attention, an ethics of attention should provide norms that govern how we collectively allocate our attention among these morally important purposes. Because these morally important purposes are all competing for our attention, one goal of an ethics of attention should be to find practices that help to synergize how people meet these demands. I call such a set of practices a “social-attentional scheme”, and propose that the ultimate goal of an ethics of attention is to find an optimal social-attentional scheme. I conclude by discussing the various ways in which we can understand early Confucian ethics as providing us with one such social-attentional scheme, and propose some lessons we can take from this Confucian example as we try to continue developing a contemporary ethics of attention.

Comparative philosophy is gaining traction in professional academic philosophy, with specialist journals, organizations, books, and public campaigns. These inroads have been made in canonical areas of philosophy, including epistemology, metaphysics, logic, and value theory. Yet comparative philosophy still plays little role in practical applied ethics, an interdisciplinary research area in which work with practice and policy implications are dominated by the anglophone world. In this article, I explain why comparative work might be especially difficult in this type of applied ethics, and I suggest how comparative philosophers might overcome these challenges to connect their theoretical work with contemporary practical issues.

The first section of the talk will give an account of the Hindu-Buddhist debate about the existence of selves. The particular Hindu / Brāhmaṇical tradition concentrated on is Nyāya, and ‘Buddhism’ is used to refer specifically to Dharmakīrtian Buddhism with its doctrine of momentariness. The second section looks at a Nyāya argument against Buddhism. I will argue that it is not difficult for the Buddhist to come up with a satisfactory response. The third section will introduce the view of Rāmakaṇṭha (950–1000 CE) and look at three of his arguments against the Buddhist view. These I view as more difficult for the Buddhist to respond to. The fourth section introduces the view of Galen Strawson, relates it to the Buddhist view, and considers the extent to which it is susceptible to Rāmakaṇṭha's arguments.

Despite the political polarization that characterizes many of our societies and much of the world, comparative philosophy — which depends on crossing various kinds of boundaries — is intellectually and professionally doing reasonably well. Exciting new work continues to appear and venues for publication and discussion (print and digital, in person and on-line) are proliferating. Another thing that is proliferating, though, is names for what it is we are doing. Are comparative, cross-cultural, intercultural, blended, and fusion philosophy all the same thing? What do they share and where do they diverge, and why? Can we identify a distinctive project of comparative philosophy and say why it is important? Based on a broad survey of approaches, in this essay I offer answers to these questions. I maintain that whenever we do philosophy by drawing on at least two significantly different traditions of philosophy, we are doing comparative philosophy. Unpacking some of the key words in this definition will enable me to clarify some persistent confusions as well as to stress the constitutive gamble that lies at the heart of all comparative philosophy. I identify three different ways to do comparative philosophy well—Comparison Philosophy, Rooted Global Philosophy, and Emergent Intercultural Philosophy—and argue that which method to choose depends both on the values that motivate one’s inquiry and on the pragmatic situation that frames one’s work.

I begin with identifying Confucian metaphors of leadership for the way the mind (or the heart-mind) should lead the whole person. I then discuss how the Daoist text Zhuangzi criticizes this conception of the mind’s leadership as too fixed and rigid--unresponsive to the fluidity and unpredictability of the world. The text suggests as an alternative a way that the whole embodied person can fluidly respond to the world. This alternative ties into some contemporary work, scientific and philosophical, of how the whole person and not just the deliberating mind processes information from the world. I end by discussing how the critique of the fixed and rigid mind can suggest alternative models of political governance that distribute and integrate guidance throughout the body politic.

Yogācāra Buddhists articulated in the 3-5th c. CE India an explicit model of how we collectively, yet mostly unconsciously, construct our shared social realities, our cultures. These “worlds” are supported by cognitive processes informed by cultural influences occurring outside our conscious awareness, in the “store-house consciousness” (ālaya-vijñāna). Through development and socialization, we come to identify with these cultural norms, thinking “I am this” and “this is mine.” Moreover, and in agreement with cognitive scientists, Yogācārins argue that humans have developed to be “innate essentialists,” so that we imagine that our constructed social and cultural identities have their own essential, intrinsic characteristics, set apart from all others, generating the “us/them” dichotomies that underlie conflicts between groups. We can counteract these harmful patterns, Yogācārins say, by analyzing how our social and cultural “realities” are collectively constructed, and by showing how—through logical, psychological, and contemplative exercises—we may weaken our unreflective, knee-jerk reaction to different peoples and cultures, and thereby foster more tolerance, empathy and understanding for all beings. In sum, Yogācāra Buddhism offers a rigorous and nuanced analysis of the origins of our prejudices and a set of methods to overcome them, rooted in ancient traditions yet relevant to contemporary issues.

What is an appropriate response to humiliating treatments such as insults? This question is not only relevant to today’s discourse but has also piqued the curiosity of thinkers in classical Chinese philosophy. The Warring States period debate regarding whether one’s inner sense of shame can shield one from insulting situations and from experiencing shame is frequently presented as a one-sided narrative that focuses on the Confucian texts. Meanwhile, the views of their rival thinkers, such as the Daoist, legalist, or much-neglected Songzi (3rd century BCE), are rarely the focus of attention. This paper brings Songzi, a key player in the debate of emotions as responses to external triggers, into the picture and restores the historical intellectual discourse over the topic of what constitutes an appropriate response to humiliating situations such as insults. More importantly, I point out the philosophical significance of this debate, namely how Songzi prompts Xunzi to respond to an ambiguity within the Confucian doctrine: The early Confucians appear to think that an individual’s internal virtues can isolate and shield one from hostile external stimuli while also maintaining that the external environment impacts one’s moral cultivation and moral life in significant ways. Xunzi’s strategic move, I argue, is to give credit to both an inner sense of shame and the function of external stimuli in inducing negative emotions, thus making an important philosophical concession compared to Confucius and Mencius.