The demise of scientific duality

MUKUL SHARMA

FOR a long time, 19th and early 20th century science used to be uneasy about their antecedents. Its precursors — those who developed the infrastructure and backbone of empirical enquiry — either derived from pagan elements and culture or, like Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Newton and right up to the father of modern genetics, Gregor Mendel, were all deeply devout Christians. Thus there was this huge scientific sigh of relief when the likes of a Darwin finally cleaved the divine away from the data and established a tradition that culminated in theories of relativity and the foundation of the new physics. Anyway, then along came the behavioural sciences and neurology and upset the applecart all over again. Earlier, psychology had just about been tolerated as one of those wannabe disciplines that had gone soft in the head for dealing with unscientific stuff like emotions, memories, dreams and other subjective phenomena. In fact the neurosciences too were considered okay only till such time as they dealt with something tangible such as the brain and regarded everything like mind and consciousness as merely an emergent property or a function of its complexity. But when it began investigating the effects of this airy-fairy artefact back on the brain, the scientific mind boggled. How could an epiphenomenon have a feedback loop to its origin? Yet meditation, for example, appeared to work in reverse, in the sense that there was neuronal activity associated with it and, in many cases, as part of the restructuring pattern of the brain. This was unbelievable because in western philosophies of the mind, epiphenomenalism is of the view that mental events are caused by physical precedents and cannot themselves instigate anything material. Not only that, now the cognitive sciences had to deal with the next episode — transcendent consciousness! Would scientific inquiry have to investigate enlightenment after this or what? In his book The Universe in a Single Atom the Dalai Lama wrote, “If scientific analysis were conclusively to demonstrate certain claims in Buddhism to be false, then we must accept the findings of science and abandon those claims.” Science should accept the same thing in reverse. Or as the Buddha said: “Don’t take my statements to be true simply out of reverence for me. But rather, put them to the test.”

Look East Policy To Experience The Light

Janina Gomes

Keep looking to the east till the sun rises again. Those who look to the west will never see the sun rise. Similarly, we habitually look at and preoccupy ourselves with the negative. We all flee God in countless ways. We flee him along the labyrinthian paths of our own mind. We choose the path of least resistance. We seek easy accolades and flowers. We like to dwell in gracious fields where everything seems to flow with the even tide. How easy it is to be one of a crowd, to move and follow the direction they all seem to take. Yet God seems to point another way, the path not frequently trod. There, one might often walk in darkness. Few would like to accompany us on such a path. There are few lamp posts along the way. The sun may be enveloped by fog. We may have to peer through the darkness to catch the shafts of light that strain in. Darkness is personal, it is also social. It sets off a chain of hatefilled living that stirs up the unnatural. It pits people against each other. It uproots giant trees set up by culture and civilisation. Like a relentless roadroller, it crushes what is beneath. That is what it means metaphorically, when we say look west. Another chain operates, driven by the power and grace of God. The light it radiates is another kind of light. It is light that heals, patches up differences, protects the innocent,it creates new communities and recreates the earth. Like the child learning to walk, we learn to step out in faith. God holds out an inviting hand. He steadies us when we stumble. He throws a veil of protection around us when we are hedged and hemmed in by the darkness. The master weaver weaves, creating patterns that we are slow to see and understand. When we look towards the east we see the first signs of the earth rising to a new day. We breathe in the salmon and pink streaks that light the sky and the freshness of the morning. The whole of creation which seemed to be hurtling relentlessly to an early death comes alive. We know deep down that we are loved and protected. The nights are no longer heralds of darkness. They are a prelude to light. Looking east calls for hope. Hope that someday things will change. We will not be like herded cattle that sometimes stampede each other. We will trust once again. We will welcome what is yet to be born — a world not shaped by hatred and revenge, but of true human solidarity that deep down we all long for. Perhaps we have forgotten that creation was meant to be about sisterhood and brotherhood, about loving and caring. New life born from the old is always fresh and gentle to the touch. We can catch it not only in the warmth of an infant’s eyes, the shaking hands of the infirm, the mellow quietness of the old who are content with life, but also in the movement of people and nations walking towards a better life, the noise of traffic, the hustle and bustle of the city, the slow working of a village life. Those who make the effort to look east — instead of following the crowd — find the struggle was worth the trouble taken. A new day begins. The sun rises once again. Creation turns around. For those who have no Master, the flowers are attraction enough. Those for whom God is all in all, the darkness is only a prelude to the dawn. Keep looking to the east till the sun rises again.