I have written before about my admiration for the psychologist Robert Wright. He happens to have his own affinity for mindfulness and Buddhism and he wrote the wonderful 2017 book, Why Buddhism is True. The book comes across as a humble approach to Buddhism by a skeptical American academic and journalist. He, like many others, seeks to discern what about Buddhism and mindfulness practice are most true and useful to people like him.
In the end, certain philosophical ideas like the constancy of change fall into his category of “true.” Similarly, he agrees with the Buddhist idea of the importance of developing a mindfulness practice.
This week he wrote about mindfulness in the time of war and the case against excessive emotions.
As is often the case, someone unfamiliar with mindfulness practice worried that Wright was too calm and too stoic due to his mindfulness practice. He worried that Wright wasn’t showing enough emotion in light of the horrific events in Ukraine.
Wright’s response was that, yes, he has a more muted emotional response to what’s happening in Ukraine. But that’s a good thing. We, in general, are being way too emotional about the crisis.
His critique is directed mostly at the foreign policy wonks of the world, but the lessons are applicable to all of us. Wright suggests that everyone needs to first calm down. Certainly, the invasion of Ukraine by Russia is an illegal act of aggression. And certainly, actions need to be taken to bring peace. But his concern is that an overly emotional response is one that exaggerates dangers, blinding us to the reality out there.
The snake and the rope
To illustrate the concern, we can turn to a parable taught by the Buddha 2500 years ago. The Buddha tells of a man who unmindfully entered a shed. The light was dim in the shed and the man was trembling with fear of what might be inside. When he caught a glimpse of a coiled object in the corner, he thought it was a snake, screamed, and ran out.
The object was simply a rope which had been coiled and left there. But the man’s fear as he entered the shed overwhelmed him. His lack of mindfulness meant that he didn’t see the danger, or lack of it, for what it actually was.
Evolutionary psychologists like Wright tell us that evolution has given us a “negativity bias.” This bias makes us assume the worst in much of our life as a way to survive. The person who runs away from a hundred ropes still lives. But the person who foolishly reaches into the dark corner and is bit by an actual snake dies and is no longer able to pass on his genes. In this way, the theory goes, natural selection has removed many of the happy-go-lucky people from the gene pool.
Furthermore, the theory suggests that in today’s world we don’t benefit as much from the negativity bias. Today, the things that trigger us to run might just be someone honking in a traffic jam or something we saw on social media.
How mindfulness works
A more mindful approach, which takes time to implement, requires awareness of our fears. When we acknowledge our concerns, they lose at least some of their power over us. A mindful encounter in the dimly lit shed might require going slowly and taking deep breaths. When the object comes into view, we can mindfully note the concern, perhaps sensing our rising heart-rate and effects like sweaty palms and hair on edge.
We can take a pause to see if we’re safe where we are, allowing our eyes to adjust and perhaps seeking out a familiar object like a rake or shovel to use if we need to poke at a dark corner. And if there truly is something menacing there, we can mindfully exit or prepare to defend ourselves.
Back to the War
The point is simply that mindfulness gives us added choice and added stability. These are two things that Wright worries that most people in America lack, including those tasked with making the most important security decisions for our country. Lacking mindfulness and wired toward a strong fear of widening the war in Ukraine, many foreign policy makers are arguing about either running away screaming from the situation or perhaps foolishly rushing in.
It is not that either of these decisions are necessarily wrong. But the process of making them should be one of careful, cautious, and observant clarity. This is not to say that feelings, which are running high right now, are invalid. Anger in the face of aggression is justified. As is empathy toward people in Ukraine.
But exactly what steps need to be taken next must be taken with extreme caution. An over-reaction could, unfortunately, escalate hostilities. And an under-reaction, too, could embolden the aggressor to continue. In between these are a number of side-steps and indirect actions such as strengthening humanitarian aid infrastructure in the region and creating tighter bonds with allies around the world.
A gut-level, go-it-alone response often feels most right in the moment. But, like running screaming out of the shed or throwing your arm into a dark corner, the results can be the opposite of what we are hoping for.
The same goes for conflicts in our personal lives. We can notice our impulses to fight, flight, or freeze. And we can hold on one moment to think about the situation. Perhaps we can work around the edges of the issue. Perhaps we or the other person have some unmet and unacknowledged need that could be addressed. And at times, instead of going at the issue head on, we can instead pause, examine our resources, seek help if its needed, and ultimately move forward in ways that honor the complexity of the situation.
Justin Whitaker, Ph.D., holds a doctorate in Buddhist ethics from the University of London. He has given lectures, and taught Buddhist studies and Philosophy at Oxford University, the University of Hong Kong, the University of Montana, and at Antioch University’s intensive study-abroad program in India. A certified meditation teacher, he is a regular contributor to Patheos.com, and Senior Correspondent for Buddhistdoor Global. He lives in Missoula with his family.