Pyrrho’s Way: The Ancient Greek Version of Buddhism by Douglas C. Bates. Sumeru Press, 2020. Review by Robert M. Ellis

Pyrrhonism is the Hellenistic philosophy that not only has some key points in common with early Buddhism, but also offers some insightful pointers toward the Middle Way. These pointers begin with the classical sceptical arguments with which I began my ‘Middle Way Philosophy’ series, and which are ably summarised in ‘Pyrrho’s Way’ as the Ten Modes of Aenesidimus and the Five Modes of Agrippa. These make us aware of the basic uncertainty that attends all our judgements. Pyrrhonism also differs from negative versions of scepticism, and offers an inspiration for the Middle Way, in its attempt at even-handedness. Pyrrhonists recognise that a negative assertion in reaction to a positive one is no more justified than the positive one was to begin with: a central insight of the Middle Way.

However, the compatibility between the Middle Way, as an approach entirely justified by practice, and Pyrrhonism, as a historical philosophy, unfortunately seems to me to stop there. Bates’ new book is informative as an introduction to historical Pyrrhonism that also takes it seriously as a practice, and seems to be the only book of its kind so far. For that reason alone it may perhaps be worth reading for anyone who wants to find out about Pyrrhonism without wading through the academic material. However, for me the main effect of reading it was to highlight the perils of adopting a historical philosophy uncritically in the present context. From a practical standpoint (which also requires, as an intermediate value, coherent philosophy), historical Pyrrhonism has some serious weaknesses that Bates really does not question. His attitude thoughout seems to be to merely to defend historical Pyrrhonism from the many misunderstandings that surround it, rather than to evaluate its adequacy for what it tries to do. This is especially ironic, given that Pyrrhonism as an approach has a critical spirit, if any philosophy does. I do not for a moment believe that Pyrrho, Timon, Sextus Empiricus, or any of the other Pyrrhonist luminaries would want us to turn their inspiration and insight into a new dogma for merely scholarly investigation.

I found this book inconsistent in its focus and evident purpose. It is at its best when it explores the author’s own experience of trying to practice Pyrrhonism, where it does offer a few personal stories that show a genuine attempt to keep questioning dogmatic assumptions. It also has some value as a summary of classical Pyrrhonist views: but here the referencing is extremely patchy, and the key Book 2 is almost devoid of the references that are used much more extensively in the rest of the book. I could thus not very easily use this as a sourcebook to look up classical Pyrrhonist doctrines. There is also no bibliography and no index. Some of the book, however, is completely tangential either to explaining Pyrrhonist doctrine or to inspiring its practice. The final book 6, on Marcus Aurelius, seems to have no place in any coherent scheme for what the book is trying to do, and to have just been added on the end because the author was interested in it and didn’t know where else to put it. The book as a whole could really have done with more rigorous planning, including a much clearer decision about whether practice or scholarship takes priority. If scholarship takes priority, it needs to be a consistently referenced academic book even if introductory, and if practice takes priority, it needs to be clearly evaluated by practical criteria.

In the absence of adequate referencing in parts of the book, I have to assume that that author’s account of Pyrrhonism is accurate as a summary of its views historically (knowing the author’s general emphasis on scholarship, though, I have little reason to doubt this). Given this assumption, reading this book did help me to crystallise many of the objections I have had for some time to Pyrrhonism in its unmodified classical form. These objections form around ways that it actually undermines its own practical ends because of the assumptions it makes. These assumptions become more obviously unjustified in the light of modern psychology, neuroscience and linguistics (all of which Bates ignores). Defending these assumptions then tends to create a cycle of argument between polarised dogmas, turning Pyrrhonism into just another dogmatic philosophy, contrary to all of its own assertions of its practicality.

The problem starts with Pyrrhonism’s account of precisely what sorts of judgements are dogmatic and to be avoided, and what sorts of judgements are practically justified. When we have appreciated uncertainty on the basis of sceptical argument, and tried to be even-handed, where are we left? Bates, and classical Pyrrhonism as he (probably accurately) presents it, tells us that this is the distinction between ‘what is evident’, which we can accept, and ‘what is not evident’, which we should not. This puts all the emphasis on the nature of the objects we are making judgements about. Bates insists that we ‘know’ what the ‘appearances’ are. Psychology gives pretty clear evidence that that is not the case, but rather that we select and format our attention according to the meaning of the objects concerned: for instance in the famous ‘invisible gorilla’ experiment that he himself quotes in another context, observers failed to see a man in a gorilla suit walking into the middle of a basketball game, because they were intent on counting the number of passes made by the players. The ‘appearances’ are at least partially the ones that we choose to give attention to in line with our expectations. When we describe what we have experienced, we are not simply describing ‘appearances’, but rather the sense we have made of them as far as it fits our own formatting.

The evident v non-evident distinction, on which classical Pyrrhonism depends so much, is a false dichotomy imposed upon a spectrum. Yes, some things are more obvious than others. It’s more obvious to me that I’m typing on a keyboard now than it is that the conspiracy theory that the Chinese government deliberately created Covid-19 is correct. In between what seem clear cases of things that are ‘evident’ or ‘not evident’, though, there are many instances of beliefs in which I can have confidence because they are quite well justified by indirect evidence, but which are very far from ‘evident’. I think it’s reasonable to accept that water is made up of combined oxygen and hydrogen atoms, for instance, but I have never seen an atom directly, and nor have any physicists. My understanding of the world is made up of a whole set of models that I constantly apply, seeking confirmation in experience. Those who have tried to reduce justification to mere empirical verification, like A.J. Ayer in his logical positivist philosophy, have constantly assumed dogmas and run into problems, because it is simply not clear in any neat binary way what is ‘evident’ in experience and what is not.

The Pyrrhonism that Bates presents manages to obscure this problem by conflating three sets of concepts. One is what is evident or non-evident, another is what we feel to be the case or not, and the third is what is provisional or absolute. Bates asserts that what is evident is just a matter of reporting the ‘appearances’, which is what we feel to be the case: but what we feel to be the case is at least partly the result of the meaning expectations we have applied, and (in the biggest cases of delusion) may possibly have no connection at all to what we could have observed.

The further and more serious conflation, though, is to assume that absolute beliefs are ‘non-evident’. Although Bates does not explicitly discuss absolutisation, he often describes the ‘non-evident’ in terms that assume it, e.g. ‘indicative signs’ (representationalism), circularity of justification, or dogmatic (unjustified) assertion. But the absolute nature of a belief is a matter of psychological state, i.e. how we judge it, rather than how evident the object is. You can have an absolute belief about something strongly evident, meaning that you couldn’t possibly consider the possibility that it’s not ‘really there’, resistant to someone who points out an optical illusion. You can also have provisional (non-absolute) beliefs about atoms, the God archetype, the value of justice, or any other ‘non-evident’ thing, as long as you maintain awareness of the limitations of your view and of alternative possibilities. Provisional beliefs are a matter of probability or weight of evidence, but the evident v non-evident distinction is binary. Absolutisation as an alternative to provisionality does indeed create a binary division because of the way it operates, but being ‘non-evident’ does not.

Many of the more helpful pieces of advice about practice in Bates’ book are supposedly about avoiding non-evident beliefs, but work because they are also, coincidentally, about avoiding absolute beliefs. For instance, he tells a story about how he realised not to blame his girlfriend for suggesting he buy the sandwiches that gave him food poisoning: this apportioning of blame is a bad idea not primarily because it is ‘non evident’ that she is responsible, but because he needed to be able to consider alternatives to that assumption rather than taking it absolutely. Once he considered those alternatives, he could weigh up their comparative strength and reach a relatively justified conclusion.  The coincidence of the two ideas in some cases makes it seem as though evident/ non-evident is the universally applicable principle, when it clearly isn’t.

The disaster for classical Pyrrhonism is the way that the evident/ non-evident distinction then seems to have become a dogma that had to be defended, giving rise to lots of further auxiliary dogmas. Here are a few of the most unhelpful ones:

• Epistemic determinism: the belief that ‘evident’ appearances are ‘forced on us’, so that we can’t help accepting them for practical purposes. Assuming that anything is entirely ‘forced on us’ discounts any element of responsibility, and thus depends on deterministic dogma being imposed on our mixed experience of a degree of responsibility for our judgements. That responsibility is often long-term, i.e. we can successfully change the way we see things by setting up the conditions for changing this over a period of time, even if we’re unable to do so instantly.
• The assumption that it is obvious which of our desires we should try to fulfil, despite the conflict of our desires over time (our lack of psychological integration).
• The claim that provisional belief is impossible without ‘asserting truth about reality’, because the object of that belief is ‘non-evident’. If a provisional belief maintains genuine awareness of alternatives, it is no longer absolute, whatever the apparent object of that belief.
• The belief that perturbation (e.g. anxiety and obsession) is bad and thus avoiding it (ataraxia) is good. This in turn depends on the belief that whether people dispute a ‘non-evident’ issue is more important than the weight of evidence for it. But absolutisation is a problem for all sorts of reasons, only one of which is whether it ‘perturbs’ us personally: it creates maladaptive rigidity, it creates conflicts both socio-politically and psychologically, and it reinforces group beliefs by employing a shortcut to co-ordination. Avoiding perturbation is a good way to improve our judgement, but Pyrrhonism turns it into an individualistic end in itself.
• Moral relativism: Bates says that relativism is a non-Pyrrhonist dogma, but at the same time that moral judgements are necessarily absolute ones because they are ‘non-evident’. It is a widespread false assumption that all prescriptive ethics must be justified by absolutes, and Bates apparently assumes this too, making no allowance for the possibility of provisional ethics, nor acknowledging that the Pyrrhonist goals involve at least provisional moral assumptions.
• Political and religious quietism: It’s asserted that ‘natural sentiments’ and custom should be a guide to action, which offers us no clear justification for changing any of our social and religious arrangements. In his chapter on politics, Bates suggests that a small-c conservatism, avoiding dramatic change, is the application of Pyrrhonism. But since this is just as much a political choice as any other, why should we accept it without weighing it up against alternatives through the exercise of provisional political philosophy? Gradual and organic change may often be the best option, but perhaps not always, and it seems to be epistemic determinism that is assumed to try to persuade us to accept the status quo.

These dogmas are also maintained by an often confusing use of the terminology of ‘belief’, ‘knowledge’ and ‘doubt’. I do think that altering conventionally accepted terminology is useful, and indeed necessary, to help people see things a different way. However, the usefulness of doing so in this case is not at all clear. ‘Belief’ is used only to mean ‘non-evident explicit belief’, which means that no recognition or discussion is given at all to implicit beliefs. This is bizarre, given how much psychology has revealed about the extent of unconscious and pre-conscious elements in our judgements and behaviour. By insisting on this usage, Bates effectively shuts off everything we could learn from psychology, even though it is of very obvious relevance to the assertions made in Pyrrhonism. It’s also claimed that knowledge is not justified true belief (although no alternative definition is offered) and that Pyrrhonists have knowledge of appearances even though they don’t ‘believe’ them. What ‘knowledge’ is supposed to mean if we don’t believe in what we think we know is completely unclear. Bates also even claims that Pyrrhonism does not employ ‘doubt’, by interpreting doubt in an entirely negative sense and ruling out the element of positive enquiry from it entirely. None of this seems to serve the purpose of helping people detach from dogma in the least, but rather just creates unnecessary terminological conflict. Recognising implicit belief is crucial to working with it. Recognising that we don’t get ‘knowledge’ from our feelings and intuitions is also vital for avoiding dogmatic interpretations of them. Recognising that ‘doubt’ can actually be helpful is crucial for sceptical argument.

The Pyrrhonist dogmas have obvious practical implications by themselves: for instance, for how far you take active responsibility in your interpretation of your environment, and in how far you actively work to improve your political context. However, Pyrrhonism as Bates presents it also has other practical limitations. Its key practice is that of epoche: namely, opposing ‘non-evident’ beliefs to each other by seeking arguments on both sides, so as to neutralise one’s attachment to either. There is no reason why this shouldn’t work with absolute beliefs as much as ‘non-evident’ ones, but it’s a very limited selection of the possible range of practice even within the broad realm of critical thinking (and it also depends on prior critical thinking skills to be made possible). In critical thinking we also identify assumptions, analyse arguments, assess credibility, consider interpretations and avoid fallacies. Beyond critical thinking, however, our ability to examine beliefs also depends on the working of the imagination, which provides us with a wider range of meaning with which we can think about alternative possible beliefs. Imagination can be boosted by the practice of the arts. Embodied practices such as mindfulness, physical disciplines, and therapies can also help a lot with changing the habitual mental state in which we consider our judgements, preventing them being short-circuited into absolutes by anxiety or obsession. All of these practices are so interdependent, that working in only one area and not the others greatly limits the effectiveness of the practice.

In contrast, however, in Pyrrhonism as Bates presents it, practice is entirely ‘mental’, this mental practice consisting solely of epoche directed towards ataraxia. He does discuss meditation, but only to say it’s not really part of Pyrrhonism. As a Zen Buddhist, he seems to have decided that it didn’t work for him and left it behind. However, seeing practice in this either/or fashion is enormously limiting. Perhaps meditation didn’t work sufficiently for him because it wasn’t sufficiently supplemented by more imaginative and cognitive ways of working, but the answer to this is not to shift to an entirely cognitive approach and hope that this is a magic solution by itself. An interrelationship is required for such practices to work, which is what the Buddhist Eightfold Path is all about. Whatever isolated breakthroughs Bates may have had using Pyrrhonist techniques, they’re bound to be very limited compared with what he might manage with a more holistic approach.

This purely ‘mental’ focus in the book rather fits with its total neglect of embodiment, pre-conscious beliefs, psychology, and neuroscience, with meditation also apparently being understood as a ‘mental’ process rather than an integrative process for both mind and body. Any sense of this wider perspective should make us aware of the limitations of any purely ‘mental’ approach in a way that would at least make us more critical of traditional Pyrrhonism than Bates is, and recognise the need to place it in a much wider context. For instance, absolute beliefs have clear links with over-dominance of what are normally left hemisphere functions in the brain (see the work of Iain McGilchrist): functions that also separate us from right hemisphere based body awareness, connection with others and metaphor. It thus becomes evidence that long -term effective ways of avoiding that over-dominance lie in exercising a range of right brain functions to strengthen them, not just more narrowly left brain functions. Similar points can be made about the role of bias from cognitive psychology, or about closed feedback loops from systems theory. Embodied meaning theory also gives us new reasons for thinking that absolute claims fail to take into account the whole way in which we process meaning – through associations in our brain and nervous system created by active bodily experience. Modern thought just offers us so many possible tools for vastly improving on ancient Pyrrhonism, but Bates chooses to ignore them all.

Overall, then, I can only recommend this book if you want a merely descriptive and uncritical introduction to the classical version of Pyrrhonism. Even for that purpose it has weaknesses. As an introduction to practice that might be inspired by Pyrrhonism (i.e. Middle Way practice) it is a massively missed opportunity. Although it does give a good account of the sceptical arguments in a couple of short chapters, and a few personal examples that would also serve as Middle Way examples, for the most part it gives an unclear, dogmatic, contradictory account of what practice might be and of what kinds of conditions it has to deal with. It turns its back on any of the modern sources of information that might help us to improve and develop the practice of Pyrrhonism, and chooses to stick with ancient dogmas for what seem to be largely scholastic reasons. Most of all, this unexamined attitude to a tradition that prides itself on critical examination is deeply self-contradictory.