Buddhism and the Origin of Life

The Buddha did not give any specific teaching regarding the origin of the universe or of life. The question was said to be unanswerable from the level of ordinary mundane intelligence In the Aṅguttara Nikāya it is said: “The origin of beings revolving in saṃsāra, being cloaked by avijjā (ignorance) is undiscoverable.” At the same time it is laid down, as a natural consequence of the law of Dependent Origination (paṭicca samuppāda) that in the ceaseless cycle of cause and effect there cannot be any link in the sequence that can be designated a first cause. Each effect in its turn becomes a cause, and the beginning is nowhere apparent; it is a closed circle of related conditions, each factor being dependent on the preceding ones.

The early Buddhists, because of this silence on the part of the Buddha, and His unwillingness to attempt the hopeless task of explaining the inexplicable, took their ideas concerning the nature of the universe from the Brahmanical teachings already current in India. These, because of their remarkable correspondence to modern scientific concepts, are well worth examination. In the first place, it must be realised that the Vedic teachings, because of the lack of technical and scientific knowledge and the necessary vocabulary in which to express such modes of thought, used allegory and symbolism, much of it being of a primitive and animistic kind. The early Buddhists found the concepts of Brahman and Ātman unnecessary and, while adhering in outline to the Brahmanical idea of the universe, they considered it to be self-sustained by laws inherent in its own nature, the whole group of laws being part of the universal law of kamma, or cause and effect. The universe consists of innumerable cakkavāḷas or world systems. These come into being and pass away again in an endless cycle covering periods of millions of years, called kappas and yugas.

The system of chronology is complicated and unthinkably immense, as is the number of inhabited World-systems in this cosmic mechanism. It is unnecessary to go into the divisions of time in detail, but a sufficient indication of their tremendous span can be gained from the fact that a yuga is equivalent to several millennia, and that eight of these yugas, representing a cycle, makes one small or antara kappa. Twenty small kappas constitute a middle or asaṅkheyya kappa, and a full cycle of four middle kappas is called a great or mahā kappa, which is the largest unit of calculation. Each great kappa is the cyclic period of a world-system, during which the entire process of coming into being, existence, decay and destruction is brought into operation. After the destruction of a world-system another immense period of time elapses, at the end of which the process begins over again, the whole being repeated ceaselessly, without beginning or end.

Turning to the Brahmanical theory we find a similar general pattern of events. Vedanta teaches that the cycles of the universe are divided into the “days and nights of Brahmā.” In the beginning the whole of the basic material substance of the universe is evenly distributed throughout space. This material substance is called Prakṛti (matter) and is to be considered as atomic units in a state of almost complete balance and almost complete inertia. Gradually, over unimaginable aeons of time, a slight movement in this vast ocean of matter gathers impetus and gradually the mass comes to life. In Vedantic phraseology it is said that Prakṛti is animated by Puruṣa or Spirit; the Brahman is manifesting through the material substance. This substance becomes differentiated into worlds, and living beings appear. Cosmic evolution then comes into play and the cycle of the universe runs its course, through development and degeneration to decay. When the period of the cycle is completed the universe disintegrates and returns to the same state of undifferentiated material elements as before. Again the process repeats itself, without beginning and without end.

The Buddhist view is much the same, except that, as stated before, in place of the Brahman or any controlling deity Buddhism substitutes the law of cause and effect; one universe or world�system arises from the kamma, or causal genesis, of the one preceding it.

The Visuddhimagga summarises the process thus: “ Na h’ettha devo brahmā va saṃsārass’atthi kārako, Suddhadhammā pavattanti Hetusambhārapaccayāti “

“There is no god or Brahmā who is the creator of this world. Empty phenomena roll on, all subject to causality.”

The astronomers Jeans and Eddington are among those who have attempted some speculation regarding the origin of the universe. Eddington, calculating the recession of the spiral nebulae from the colour changes in the spectrum, has formed the theory that the entire universe is in process of expansion. The countless planets and solar systems comprising it are governed by the law of cosmic attraction and repulsion, which is a law inherent in the nature of matter. It is this law which holds together all the material substance of which the universe is composed, from the smallest atomic units to the largest planet. It is believed that in the course of expansion of the universe one of two things will, eventually, happen: either it will reach its maximum point of expansion and the law of cosmic repulsion will cause the atomic elements to scatter throughout space, or else the law of cosmic attraction will gain the upper hand and the process will be reversed, causing the universe to shrink back on itself.

In either case, the ultimate result will probably be the same; that is, the atomic elements will become uniformly distributed throughout space. Eddington has also hazarded the guess that this is the primal state from which the universe first took form, that is to say that his imaginative picture of it before “creation” is very similar to that of the Vedantic and Buddhist conception. Again, we are to imagine the whole of space filled with atoms, electrons and neutrons in an almost perfect state of balance and homogeneity. In this undifferentiated mass there is only a slight movement or vibration, but over incalculable aeons the movement becomes more pronounced as the law of cosmic attraction and repulsion comes into play. Gradually the even distribution of substance forms clots, masses of electronic particles being drawn together, so that in time whirling masses of gaseous matter are formed, and from these emerge what astronomers call the “island universes“ - that is to say, systems forming themselves round a central nucleus, like our own solar system. It is obvious that this process, as in the Buddhist system, can be repeat over and over again.

In this way science does away with the need for a creator god, but still it has not explained the origin of the movement in the inert matter, which carries the process forward. Buddhism explains it as being kamma, that is, the principle of the indestructibility of force or energy. The movement is the residuum of activity from the previous universe, which never entirely ceases, though that universe itself has ceased to exist. When we examine the operation of kamma as it functions in the rebirth of living organisms it becomes possible to relate it to the cosmic process and trace the parallel between the kamma of a sentient being and the kamma of material phenomena.

From this comparison of modern scientific ideas and the teachings of over two thousand years ago it will be seen how strikingly they agree. The question then arises: How was it possible for the sages of that remote period to penetrate the illusion of material substance and find that it was composed of electronic forces, and to form so accurate an idea of the nature of the universe and its processes? The answer can only lie in the belief that they were able to raise their consciousness beyond the sphere of the mundane, through the practise of jhāna or

meditation. They had no laboratory equipment, no microscopes or telescopes and no mathematical formulae to guide them; and, when they had made their discovery they had no technical language or common basis of knowledge by which to impart their discoveries to others. It would indeed have been hopeless for the Buddha to attempt a description of the nature of the universe on these lines; no one of His time would have been capable of understanding Him.

That is why He refused to answer questions concerning the origin of the world or whether it was eternal or not eternal. Had He given an affirmative reply or a negative one to either question it would have been in a sense untrue. The Buddha’s reply, in effect, was that such questions were not conducive to release from rebirth; but the implication always remained that the true knowledge could be gained by oneself, through insight, though it could not be imparted to others. The Iddhi, or so-called “supernatural powers” gained by the Arahats were simply the knowledge of hidden laws of the universe and how to make use of them, but by Buddha they were regarded as only another and greater obstacle to the attainment of freedom and the quenching of desire.

The law of causality is like an iceberg; only one eighth of it or less is visible above the surface. We observe the effects while remaining ignorant of the causes, just as when we switch on the electric current and the light appears. The scientist Max Planck wrote: “What sense is there, then, it may be asked, in talking of definite causal relations in regard to causes where nobody in the world is capable of tracing their function? The answer to that question is simple. As has been said again and again, the concept of causality is something transcendental—quite independent of the nature of the researches, and it would be valid if there were no perceiving subject at all… . We must distinguish between the validity of its [application]. This means that even the scientist has to admit causes beyond his comprehension. The Buddha stated: “Whether Buddhas arise or do not arise (to perceive and reveal the Law) the law of causality, the principle of the dependence of this upon that, the causal sequence of events, remains a fixed and unalterable law.”

“The concept of causality is something transcendental.” This is a significant phrase indeed, coming from a scientist. It is just in this transcendental concept of the causal law that Buddhism establishes the moral principle of kamma. The materialist rejects the idea of God and Soul; and because he sees no evidence of a spiritual or other purpose in life, he rejects all belief in the moral order of the universe as well. Buddhism also is independent of a theistic creator and of a soul or ego principle, but Buddhism maintains the validity of the moral law.

Buddhism admits the infinite multiplicity of worlds and the apparent insignificance of man—yet man is the most significant of all beings, according to Buddhism, man is of more significance than the gods. Why is this? Because the gods are merely enjoying temporarily the results of good actions in the past, but man is the master of his own destiny—on the battlefield of his own mind he can conquer the ten thousand world-systems and put an end to saṃsāra, just as did the Buddha. But to do this he must understand the nature of kamma. The principle that governs his internal and external world.

According to the Aṅguttaranikāya,23 to believe that the cause of happiness or misery is God, Chance or Fate, leads to inaction. Our spiritual evolution depends upon ourselves and ourselves alone. If there is any force behind the moral laws, any exercise of free-will in the choice between good and evil, right and wrong, it stands to reason that there must be the possibility of advancing or degenerating, evolution. If progress upwards were a mechanical process and a foregone conclusion, there would be no point in any freedom of choice in a world of opposites. 23 The Threes, No. 61; translated in Aṅguttara Nikāya, An Anthology. Part I, (The Wheel No. 155/158), p. 43.

The nineteenth-century Darwinists believed that the course of biological evolution represented a steady upward progression from rudimentary to complex forms of life, and hence from primitive social structures to higher states of civilization. On this too-facile assumption, with its essentially materialistic basis, they built up an edifice of optimistic belief in the destiny of mankind. It was thought that humanity itself would automatically improve with the increase of knowledge, and perhaps evolve into a yet higher species. Later knowledge showed that their supposition was fundamentally false; they did not at that time know enough about the processes of natural selection or the history of the various links in the biological chain. Evolution, we now know, does not move consistently upwards nor, as Karl Marx postulated, in an ascending spiral. It progresses in waves, and the currents produced by it are continually changing direction, often turning back to their point of origin. Some species improve, while others degenerate and disappear.

Evolution may be depicted on a graph as a succession of ascending and descending curves, but its most representative form is that of a circle. Whatever steady upward movement there may be is more an individual movement than a collective one. It is essentially the individual that evolves, and the illusion of collective evolution follows upon the appearance of groups (e.g., the human species) whose individual members have reached a certain level of being with sufficient uniformity to constitute a type. This comes about through the operation of incalculable factors in their past personal history, which science does not take into account because they are not normally open to scientific investigation. Those unknown factors are the kammas, or activities, which relate man’s being to the moral principles of the universe.

If it were true that evolution takes place solely on a physical basis and is consistently progressive, all human beings at any specific stage would display uniform characteristics; it is only by taking the individualist and spiritual view that we can explain the appearance of a Buddha, or, indeed of any lesser leader who has shown himself to be far in advance of his contemporaries.

The analogy of a wave or ripple, travelling in a circle, is perhaps the best symbol of the individual evolutionary current. Just as in biological evolution there are advances and recessions, successes and failures, so in spiritual evolution the individual sometimes rises and sometimes falls. There is no stability and no constant direction to his course. Because of his actions he may take birth as a human being, only to fall from that relatively high estate to become once more an animal.

This is what the Buddha called “drifting in the ocean of saṃsāra” and those who see the processes of biological evolution also as a purposeless, meaningless drifting, can trace a close correspondence between the manifested material laws and the invisible spiritual ones that motivate them. The materialist who declares that life has no ultimate purpose is making a safe deduction from the evidence available to him. In the material sense it has no purpose, and can never arrive at a state of perfection. But he is only considering the material aspect of life and ignoring its spiritual undercurrents, which are in reality the true determining factors behind phenomenal appearances. It is to those that we have to turn when we seek for a meaning and objective in our mundane existence. Knowledge—or rather, paññā— gives us sight of the goal and the means of attaining it. We do not find the meaning of life within the circle of evolutionary Processes, but outside it.

The astronomer Jeans has voiced the spirit of modern scientific logic in his conclusion that the more we come to know of the universe and its Workings, the more surely are we driven to the belief that it is in some way the manifestation of thought, or of some kind of mental process comparable to our own. Where other scientists quarrel with his view is on the ground that it appears to savour of a return to the discarded idea of a personal creator-god. It is precisely here that Buddhism bridges the gulf between religious and scientific thought. For Buddhism, while endorsing the view that the ultimate basis of the universe is mind, does not require a god, or

any external agency, to provide that mind. The processes of the evolving (saṃvatta) and devolving (vivatta) universe are carried on by the mental activities of the sentient beings that are a part of it. It is this mind-force, not that of any god, that causes the physical universe to materialise and go through the stages of growth, decay and dissolution.

The starting-point of all mental and bodily activities is craving—the taṇhā of Buddhist philosophy. In the lowest grades of evolution this craving is supreme, and there it means cravings of purely sensual and material kind. The individual evolves spiritually by rising above these, but at any stage of his progress be is liable to become possessed once more by the lower forms of craving, and so may sink down again. As a human being he becomes a battleground in which the lower cravings struggle against higher ones, represented by cravings that we may class as intellectual, aesthetic or even spiritual. When the higher cravings triumph we call it in modern parlance “sublimation,” but this sublimation is merely the replacement of grosser cravings by more intellectualised ones. To put an end to the aimless drifting in saṃsāra, even these sublimated cravings must be abandoned.

They are called rūpa-rāga and arūpa-rāga—desire for life in the worlds of form and in the formless, purely intellectualised spheres For example, the artist who has sublimated his lower instincts into an aesthetic appreciation of the beauty of nature and the human form, provided he has lived in accordance with moral laws (which sublimation enables him to do), is likely to re-manifest in the sphere of the rūpa deva-lokas, where beauty of form is the characteristic quality. But a philosopher, or ascetic who has sublimated his instincts into a love of abstract thought, meditation or any such activity divorced from material contexts, qualifies himself for rebirth in the arūpa Brahmā-lokas where existence is non-material and consists purely of zones of mental force. This is the highest type of evolutionary existence in saṃsāra, in which craving is reduced to its lowest ebb and most etherealised form; yet, because craving is still present, the being who has attained this condition may still continue to drift in the currents of saṃsāra. Complete release from the cycle of existence only comes with destruction of craving and the ego-delusion. This is Nibbāna.

From the foregoing account of the physical universe as it is viewed by Buddhism and modern science—that is, as a cyclic process extending over unimaginable aeons—we see that it is incorrect to equate the beginning of life with the beginning of the earth, the solar system or even this particular universe. The question still remains in what way did life originate, however far back in time its beginning may have been?

Science does not provide any solution. It puts forward a tentative theory that sentient life appeared on this earth through a technical process combined with the action of cosmic rays and the heat of the sun. But this is only a theory, and may-well be modified, though it is interesting to note in passing that the Buddhist doctrine that living beings appeared through the action of tejo (kinetic energy) combined with: utu (utuja meaning arisen from seasonable circumstances and physical law of causation), offers a similar explanation so far as mundane life is concerned. This, in any case, only carries speculation back to the beginning of life on this planet, but the actual origin we seek is the beginning of life from a point where there was no preceding cause, and this cannot be found. Theistic religion also fails to answer the question. In ascribing the origin of living creatures to a Creator-god it still leaves unanswered the problem of how and why the god himself came into being. If a god can exist, though uncreated, there is no reason why the other phenomena of the universe should not exist without having been created also.

The actual truth is that the idea of the necessity for creation or, in other words, the search for a beginning of the causal process, springs from the limitations of the human mind, which can only conceive phenomenal things in their arising, decay and dissolution. In the circle of causal links there is no First Cause. The universe could not have been created out of nothingness

because in a condition of void, empty of phenomena and events, there could be no pro-existence of time. As a concept, time can only exist in relation to physical bodies and their movements in space; this is the basis of Einstein’s “space-time continuum.” It is apparent, therefore, that time could not have existed prior to the existence of the physical universe on which it depends. But, for an act of creation to take place, there must be time already in existence because creation requires the three phases of time; i. e., past (before the thing created came into being), present (the phase of its momentary existence) and future (the time of its continued existence and ultimate cessation).

Without the existence of time in these three phases there could not be any point at which a thing not existing previously could come into being. And without the physical universe there cannot be any concept of time unrelated to change, spatial movement or events. All human reasoning ends in a paradox because it follows the periphery of a circle, the sphere embracing time, space and phenomena. All that reason can do is to show that the process of saṃsāra is without any discoverable beginning and that a first cause, in the sense in which we understand it, is not only unnecessary, but impossible. The truth can only be gained by Insight, in accordance with the teachings of the Exalted Buddha, which means rising above the realm of relative and conditioned factors. That point being gained, it will be found that there is no answer to the problem, but that the problem never existed, save as an illusory product of Ignorance (avijjā)