Reality, Truth, and Detachment: Comparing Buddhist Thought with Western Philosophy and Science

Abstract

The present work, employing the tools provided by comparative philosophy, aims to address several fundamental concepts, including the theme of objective reality linked to the theme of subjective experience, and the theme of absolute truth connected to the issue of determined or phenomenal truths. The focal point to be highlighted is that these conceptual nodes indeed appear in early Buddhist philosophy found in the Pāli canon but find significant resonance in Western philosophy, that is, in reflective and critical thought originating in ancient Greece. As an eminently theoretical work, this paper’s objective is to demonstrate how the main assertions found in Buddhist philosophy, primarily the outcome of striking insights expressed through iconic stylistic elements or aphorisms, are articulated through reasoned arguments in Western philosophy. We have endeavored to distill these arguments precisely to elucidate the shared theoretical intention.

1. Introduction

“La pensée objective ignore le sujet de la perception.”

([1], p. 251)

The present work, methodologically speaking, employs tools provided by comparative philosophy and aims to bring to the reader’s attention fundamental concepts such as the themes of reality and truth. Comparative philosophy has long been established as a valid methodology for generating innovative philosophical reflections by proposing novel comparisons between thought traditions belonging to diverse cultural spheres. By disengaging from the confines of Western thought alone and acknowledging legitimacy within philosophical traditions across other cultural milieus, philosophy can delve deeper into already known themes and issues through multiple perspectives or even unearth new and potential solutions to enduring questions that the limitations of a singular cultural viewpoint would inhibit from resolving. For methodological considerations, refer to the works of Bo Mou [2,3] and Benesch [4].

Specifically, it delves into the theme of objective reality intertwined with subjective experience in Pāli Buddhist literature. Our primary focus is to highlight the points of convergence that these conceptual intersections find in Western philosophy, particularly in the reflective and critical thought originating from the Greece of Anaximander, Parmenides, and Socrates.

Regardless of highlighting similarities, the methodology of comparative philosophy is interested in exploring new theoretical possibilities that emerge from the comparison of similar themes, even when they may be divergent. The present paper therefore wants to contribute to the debate on the problems of the experience of reality, the subjective dimension and the conception of objective reality, through a comparative dialogue with Buddhist thought, bringing to light potential new elements for a philosophical debate on these issues.

The stated objective is pursued by seeking to demonstrate how the main assertions gleaned from Buddhist philosophy primarily result from striking insights expressed through vivid idioms or aphorisms, rather than through reasoned arguments. The aim is to translate the concepts expressed in Buddhist philosophy into the language of Western philosophy, thereby explicating those arguments and logical demonstrations that remain mostly tacit and implicit in Indian thought. Furthermore, we will compare Buddhist theories on perception and consciousness with the most recent and accredited scientific theories.

To demonstrate the diversity of style and the essential similarity of expressed concepts, our approach involves presenting the Buddhist philosophical viewpoint on certain crucial issues alongside our reflections. These reflections serve the dual purpose of translating the same concepts into argumentative modes characteristic of Western thought and establishing a meaningful comparison between theories, which is as significant as the comparison between philosophical conceptions.

The present study continues research begun with a previous paper [5], where we demonstrated the striking correspondence between Anaximander’s conception, particularly his notion of the ἄπειρον (the indefinite or boundless), and Buddhist philosophy addressing a similar theme in the form of the unconditioned (asaṅkhata), namely nibbāna. Consequently, the issue of the foundation reemerges in this current research, as it constitutes the speculative center of discourse from which related concepts derive their significance. Our aim, shared by both the Buddhist perspective and classical Western philosophy, is to demonstrate that the foundation must inherently be absolute, rendering senseless any claim to determine it for the sake of inclusion, as such an attempt would negate its essence.

To be illuminated and guided by this foundation, one can proceed in only one manner: by practicing detachment from the world and, most importantly, from oneself, namely from the ego, which is the source of any absolutist claim. Ultimately, only the absolute is capable of relativizing worldly experience (lokiya), which every self tends to absolutize, perceiving itself as the center of the world.

2. Objective and Subjective

Let us begin with the theme of ‘objective’ reality. This theme has been addressed in Buddhist philosophy since its inception. In the suttas of the Pāli canon, the theme of objective truth is addressed in terms that are quite different from what we might expect. In archaic Buddhism, in fact, two opposing forces exist: on the one hand, there is a clear intent to avoid any dogmatic conviction regarding the existence of an absolute truth; on the other hand, however, this specific aspect seems to be articulated with such vehemence only as a warning against the risk of opinions. The conviction of possessing an absolute truth is classified among opinions and, consequently, among doctrines. Since archaic Buddhism primarily positions itself as a path that avoids dogmatism, and thus any doctrine (except for its middle position, majjhimapaṭipadā, which aims to be beyond opinions), one might say that, in a certain sense, Buddhism does not consider the existence of an objective and absolute truth to be valid.

This is indeed a position that has been upheld over time, but our intent is to demonstrate that it is only partially valid, insofar as the Buddha’s rejection of an absolute truth is not to be understood as a rejection of incontrovertible truth. On the contrary, there are several reasons to argue that an incontrovertible truth is a fundamental cornerstone of the Buddha’s first teaching. When contextualized within the specific conception of incontrovertible as understood by the Buddha, we also comprehend that the rejection of an absolute—which would be more accurately defined as an ultimate truth or an ultimate doctrine, since the term employed is paramattha (from parama, “the highest”, “the superior”, “sublime”, and attha, “sense”, “meaning”)—is not a rejection of truth itself, but rather a problematization of it.

A single truth is, in fact, affirmed in the texts with considerable clarity. However, there is doubt as to whether a vision or opinion, in the specific form of a doctrine—as the various philosophical-religious schools at the time of the Buddha presented them—can actually attain it. On the contrary, doctrines are primarily identified as the realm of conflict, dispute, and contention, and thus inherently possess a bellicose nature, which stands in contrast to the ideal of ahiṃsā professed by the Buddha.

Since, in particular circumstances—and specifically with the development of the Abhidhamma—Buddhism would later rehabilitate the use of the expression paramattha to denote a form of ultimate reality, in the sense of a reality that is no longer further analyzable by the complex phenomenological investigation that would develop, it is also necessary to pay careful attention to the use of this term across the various stratifications of the canon, as it in fact holds different connotations depending on the period in which the texts were composed.

In the majority of the Suttanipāta, the term paramattha is associated with diṭṭhi, which is the technical term denoting opinions, beliefs (literally: “views”) [6]. Here too, caution is necessary: diṭṭhi extends to any opinion, which, by antonomasia, is considered incorrect, since an opinion is merely a partial vision of truth. It is, therefore, a reduction of truth and, as such, cannot be exhaustive—thus, it is not truth. However, the Pāli canon also presents the paradoxical expression saccādhiṭṭhi, that is, “vision of truth” (mentioned, for example, in MN 140 and DN 33). Another analogous but more frequently employed expression is sammādiṭṭhi, the “correct vision” or the “right view,” which is a clear reference to Buddhist teaching (see AN 4.72, 4.89, MN 9, Iti 71), as it is directly correlated with right liberation (sammāvimutti, AN 10.121-130, or AN 10.117-118) and with right teaching (sammādiṭṭhi dhammo, AN 10.114-116). These are merely a few examples among many, demonstrating that a contrast to opinions is indeed possible. For this reason, the term diṭṭhi is sometimes reinforced with micchādiṭṭhi (for example, AN 4.273, 5.118, SN 22.154, 35.165, Iti 70). Since this term is explicitly constructed in opposition to sammādiṭṭhi, and given that there exists only one sammādiṭṭhi while all other diṭṭhis are considered micchādiṭṭhi, it is also evident that the fundamental axis of opposition is between diṭṭhi and sacca, or between micchā and sacca. This is the first aspect of the issue.

Terms such as sammādiṭṭhi or saccādhiṭṭhi are deliberate paradoxes, and numerous pieces of evidence support the notion that Buddhists regarded every diṭṭhi as false, leading us to believe that sammādiṭṭhi or saccādhiṭṭhi are not truly diṭṭhi. However, a problem remains: that of understanding whether this apparent binomial can, in some way, be compared to the idea of objectivity and subjectivity.

As mentioned, archaic Buddhism considers any opinion, belief, vision, dogma, or doctrine to be an error intrinsically productive of conflicts. Snp 4.5 inveighs against those who believe in an “ultimate” ideal, as this leads them to perceive themselves as anthropologically superior. Those who claim to have the “ultimate vision” (paramanti diṭṭhīsu paribbasāno) are individuals who, in turn, place themselves above others, as ultimate in themselves, the highest in the world (yaduttari kurute jantu loke). This vision is problematic because it inevitably leads to domination, to the declaration of others’ inferiority (hīnāti aññe tato sabbamāha), and thus to the inevitable outbreak of conflicts (vivādāni avītivatto). In contrast to such individuals, the Buddhist ascetic must instead position themselves as devoid of any attachment, without any desire for one side or the other (yassūbhayante paṇidhīdha natthi), and it is interesting how this aspect is primarily formulated in terms of detachment from something—in this specific case, detachment from opinions, from a specific dogma of truth. The meditator does not form any dependence on notions (ñāṇepi so nissayaṃ no karoti) nor does he take any stance among factions (sa ve viyattesu na vaggasārī), as he does not believe any opinion to be true (diṭṭhimpi so na pacceti kiñci). Here arises the doubt that the Buddhist position is fundamentally comparable to a radical skepticism, and some authors have indeed compared the two positions [7,8,9]. However, the matter is far more complex: rejecting what is defined as “opinions” or “dogmas” or “factions” does not imply the belief that an objective truth does not exist in any way. No explicit statement of this kind is present in the texts, and such an interpretation would be a forced imposition in light of what follows.

First and foremost, the very idea of the “ultimate” is not exclusively connected to dogmatisms. A dogma based on the conviction of possessing an ultimate truth, or rather, on formulating a notion of truth and imposing it as ultimate truth, is what these texts genuinely seem to oppose. The necessity for something “ultimate” does not, however, appear to be disregarded, though the matter is treated with extreme caution. For instance, in Snp 4.10, an “ultimate human” (uttamaṃ naraṃ) is mentioned, but he is essentially characterized as unfathomable, incapable of being governed by anything (tassa natthi purakkhataṃ). This ultimate human is essentially independent of any influence, even temporal one (he has no attachments to the past, does not crave the future, while in the present he is nupasaṅkheyyo, “incalculable”, “incommensurable”, “unfathomable”); he is free from deception (akuhako), does not depend on worldly pleasures, is mentally balanced (upekkhako), and has no ties to the world (na loke maññate samaṃ), which includes possessing nothing (he has neither children nor livestock, nor fields nor lands: na tassa puttā pasavo, khettaṃ vatthuñca vijjati). In short, he possesses all the qualities of a completely detached person and is therefore perfectly unperturbable (nejati).

Thus, something absolute, corresponding to these characteristics of total otherworldliness, is indeed possible. However, it is crucial that it transcends doctrinal notions, including, paradoxically, even the very idea of the absolute (which does not coincide with the absolute as such).

If we are to identify in some way the dogmatic conviction of possessing an absolute truth, which we have seen criticized in the previously discussed sutta, it could be understood as a form of notional faith, a dogmatic adherence to the very idea of objectivity, taken to an extreme. In this specific form, it must be said, we are no longer speaking of objectivity, even though its proponents may make use of this term, just as we do not speak of true paramattha, even though those who claim to possess it naturally proclaim the dogma of an ultimate truth. To extricate ourselves from this terminological impasse, we shall distinguish the dogmatic conviction of adherence to a truth believed to be absolute (objective) as objectual truth. Typically, this is set apart from subjective truth, as the latter is recognized as unreliable due to its excessive variability and dependence on the experiences of individual subjects.

Buddhism, which, as is well known, devotes much effort to critiquing those who rely excessively on their own senses—whose perceptual and sensory processes it also deconstructs with extreme precision—essentially equates the unreliability of these processes with the adoption of a strict dogma that purports to transcend them. The dogma itself is not exempt from the same dynamics that structure ordinary cognitive processes but is merely a more refined form thereof. Dogmatists are not, however, free from the same errors of absolutizing their partial perspectives; rather, they are simply oblivious to the fact that they have adopted a process analogous to that of normal perceptual mechanisms—mechanisms that derive from limiting sensory means and are therefore incapable of comprehending the totality of reality in its entirety, incapable of recognizing all the complex phenomenal interconnections as parts of a single continuum.

The limitations of sensory means are relatively easy to recognize, and thus the perceptions constructed from them are equally unreliable. Dogmatic constructions based on notions, however rigorously applied, must be careful to avoid the same reductionist mechanisms upon which the objectualist relies in deriving “absolute” principles whose recurrent phenomenal manifestation may convince them of their validity. Nevertheless, the construction of notions, of laws, and of systems of truth is, for the Buddha, just as dangerous as a blind reliance on mere perceptions. The mechanism of the latter is, in fact, the same as that of objectualist concepts: reified norms, applications of concepts to the experience of reality that are nothing but mere “designations.” This is the meaning of the statement made in Snp 4.12: “No, apart from perceptions, there are no multiple truths that endure in the world” (na heva saccāni bahūni nānā, aññatra saññāya niccāni loke). And again: “Those who have based their reasoning on different opinions come to say that there are only two things, the true and the false” (takkañca diṭṭhīsu pakappayitvā, saccaṃ musāti dvayadhammamāhu).

This dichotomous attitude is rejected for the same reasons we observed at the outset—namely, its inherent tendency toward conflict, as well as its inability to describe objective truth. Dualism, characterized as the two “opinions”, the notion of true and that of false (saccaṃ musāti dvayadhammamāhu), can easily be applied to the objectual and the subjective dyad, at least from the perspective of those who consider themselves perfect and complete because they adopt a “dogmatic” view (atisāradiṭṭhiyā so samatto). In this specific context, we must understand the “two notions” or “two factions” that the sage rejects equally in Snp 4.13 (na brāhmaṇassa paraneyyamatthi, dhammesu niccheyya samuggahītaṃ; tasmā vivādāni upātivatto, na hi seṭṭhato passati dhammamaññaṃ). This is not, then, a rejection of an objective truth. On the contrary, it is a lucid problematization of the idea of the objective and the absolute in light of the human tendency always to construct cognitions based on designative principles, which are therefore fundamentally linked to the mechanism of constructing nominal–formal identities (nāmarūpa), as explained in detail in an article of recent publication [10].

As for truth, understood as that which transcends this antinomy, it is presented in Snp 3.3 in a rather evocative manner, as the immortal word (saccaṃ ve amatā vācā), and as the dhamma, the teaching, which is eternal (esa dhammo sanantano). Not only does this reaffirm that the Buddha’s teaching is understood as the dhamma in the singular (and not in the plural, as in the case of the dvayadhammamāhu mentioned above—the notions of truth and falsehood), but it also clarifies that the truth referred to here is necessarily singular and thus includes all plural possibilities, which are nothing but its misinterpretations. This appears to be a necessity, given that the text defines “this dhamma” as singular and sanantana (eternal) and reiterates its connection with the Buddha’s teaching: sacce atthe ca dhamme ca, the truth (always singular) and its meaning (attha) is the dhamma (the teaching of the Buddha).

In the texts of the Pāli Abhidhamma we observe the rudiments of the concept that was subsequently articulated by more analytical commentators using the term sabhāva, signifying that which is “self-existing” or “intrinsically existing”.

The crucial point of significance here is that this term was developed by the authors of the Abhidhamma to denote a reality that we define as “objective” because we aim to emphasize its most important aspect: viz., it is entirely independent of the subject.

The notion of “being” and self-sufficient/independent existence was anciently expressed by the term sacca (from sat-ya). This term constituted the root of the verb ‘to be’ (sat-) in Sanskrit, signifying “that which stands”, distinct from the second copula (bhava) that embodies the sense of appearance and becoming (the Greek term φύσις somehow recalls this by presenting the same root), to which a suffix of the nominal adjective (-ya) was added. Sat-ya thus represents “that which stands”, truth in the sense of “immutable” and “indisputable” ([5], pp. 2–3).

The Greek equivalent of the expression sat-ya can be traced in the verb ἵστημι, meaning precisely “to stand” or more specifically, “to stand in a self-sufficient manner”. Notably, it is found in the term ἐπιστήμη, which denotes true knowledge, the knowledge that becomes science due to reason prevailing over the process of becoming: ἐπιστήμη, in fact, comprises the preposition ἐπί, indicating “above”, and precisely ἵστημι, signifying “to stand”. From this perspective, ἐπιστήμη coincides with truth precisely because it is not transient knowledge but rather knowledge that eternally remains unchanged.

One could add that it is an “objective” knowledge because it depends on nothing else but itself. It does not rely on either the subject and hence distinguishes itself from δόξα, i.e., “opinion”, inherently subjective by nature, nor on time since it is eternal, nor finally, on anything else but itself: it is “independent” (sabhāva) and therefore ‘free’.

Here, the term sabhāva resurfaces, indicating, as mentioned earlier, that which is “self-existing”, “essentially existing”. Truth is autonomous and self-sufficient precisely because if it depended on something other than itself, it would then rely on untruth, which would be blatantly contradictory.

What has been discussed about truth must equally apply to reality itself. Reality, if authentic, cannot diverge from truth because it cannot be anything other than κατά φύσιν (according to nature, i.e., in itself; in sē, as the Latins would say), such that what is perceived by the senses and deemed reality “for us” (πρὸς ἡμᾶς, as the Greeks would say; quoad nōs, as the Latins would say) cannot be assumed as true reality.

The consequence of the aforementioned holds: both in Buddhist philosophy and in Greek philosophy, at least starting from the metaphysical turn of Anaximander and more broadly for the entire classical Western philosophy, true reality, coinciding with truth itself, can only be the absolute.

Only the absolute, indeed, is genuinely autonomous and self-sufficient because it is freed from every bond to something else (ab-solūtum). Hence, it serves as the authentic foundation. While every determination exists solely in reference to another determination, as what posits it is that limit that inevitably binds it to something other than itself, conversely, the absolute is established solely upon itself, self-legitimizing, and for this reason, can be expressed using the term sacca.

Moreover, the Greek expression κατά φύσιν can be translated into English as “according to nature”, signifying that the nature of reality is absolutely independent of anything else, i.e., founded only upon itself. The term φύσις strictly corresponds to “nature” transliterated from the Latin nātūra. This latter expression can be compared to infinitive of the verb nāscī, meaning “to born”.

Nature, in essence, constitutes “the collection of things that will be born” (neuter: nāscitūra), such that everything is already contained and resolved within it in an eternal present, a present that transcends time and hence coincides with the absolute itself, in which everything is one, positioning multiplicity at a different level compared to the level where only the unity of the absolute truly exists.

We can assert that a conception of nature such as the one held by Western thought today is entirely absent in the Buddhist world. Nature understood as an order regulated by a series of laws, precisely called “natural laws” or “laws of physics” (bearing in mind that the term physics is always connected to the Greek φύσις in its derivative form φυσική), is something entirely absent in Buddhism, [11,12] particularly because the Western conception of naturalness primarily exists in opposition to the unnatural, the artificial. However, this does not imply that the Indian world lacked a certain conception of nature more akin to that found in early Greek thought. Pierre Hadot has demonstrated quite convincingly, for instance, that the Greek idea of φυσικός, and of φύω/φύσις in general, originates from a significantly different conception.

To understand this, we must return to the well-known fragment DK B123 of Heraclitus: φύσις κρύπτεσθαι φιλεῖ. Traditionally interpreted as “nature loves to hide,” this translation has been contested by Hadot for multiple reasons, particularly concerning the understanding of φιλέω, “to love”. The subject, as can be observed, is φύσις, while the object of φιλεῖ—an action which we shall leave untranslated for the moment—is κρύπτεσθαι. The latter term, incidentally, is a verb, the mediopassive infinitive of κρύπτω, which means “to hide oneself”.

At this point, it is unnecessary to emphasize the implicit reference that Heraclitus, by employing the verb κρύπτω, intends to make to the conception of truth: ἀλήθεια, “truth”, is in fact a term that literally means “unconcealed” (ἀ-λήθω). Hadot’s interpretation is thus that φύσις is related to κρύπτω, and that this term in the relationship has something to do with non-evidence. However, it should be noted that Parmenides is the first to employ the term ἀλήθεια, and whether or not this was done in contrast to Heraclitus, it is nonetheless indicative of the fact that the latter may not have understood κρύπτω as synonymous with λανθάνω, and thus as concealment from truth.

Hadot appears to confirm this hypothesis based on a philological analysis of the verb φιλεῖ, demonstrating that it possesses a metaphorical nuance unrelated to sentimental love but rather to the tendencies of a given phenomenon. For example, the wind “loves” to blow, meaning that the wind is a given phenomenon x that has a usual behavior, one that is proper to it. The relationship, therefore, between behavior y (which is simply the thing most frequently observed in phenomenon x) and the phenomenon to which it belongs is what is described by the use of φιλεῖ: “Le mot « aime » (philei) ne signifie pas ici un sentiment, mais une tendance naturelle ou habituelle, un processus qui se produit nécessairement ou fréquemment” ([13], p. 27).

With this new awareness, Hadot proceeds to analyze the meanings of κρύπτω, which do not correspond to the Parmenidean reinterpretation of truth. The philosopher of Elea constructs his thought based on the idea of evidence, and this idea is undoubtedly related to κρύπτω. Nonetheless, comparative philology suggests that κρύπτω is simply another term for indicating death, the concealment of phenomenon x, its no longer appearing in the configurations proper to it. What Heraclitus describes is thus a normal process of birth and death, where φύσις represents the moment of appearing of the phenomenon, its configuring itself as active, and indeed φύσις is known to derive from φύω, which pertains to birth, to production. The usual tendency (φιλεῖ) of what is φύω, on the other hand, is described by κρύπτω. Hadot’s reinterpretation of the Heraclitean fragment can therefore be understood as follows: what appears tends to disappear ([13], p. 30); what is born tends to die (φύσις → κρύπτω = birth → death). As Hadot demonstrates, this association is confirmed by another fragment of Heraclitus, DK B48, in which the Greek philosopher plays with another association between βίος and θάνατος, exploiting the phonetic similarity between βιός (“bow”) and βίος (“life”) and stating that “The name of the bow is life, its work is death” (βιός τῷ τόξῳ ὄνομα βίος ἔργον δὲ θάνατος). The association, constructed on the assonance βίος/βιός and on the βιός → θάνατος relation, is thus of the same type as φύσις → κρύπτω.

From this perspective, nature is therefore understood by the archaic Greek philosophers as something that is born, that appears, possessing intrinsically a phenomenological value, and is characterized as belonging to a precise cycle, insofar as what appears (φύσις) tends (φιλεῖ) toward its vanishing (κρύπτεσθαι). In this sense, this archaic phenomenological meaning describes a conception of φύσις perfectly comparable to that which Buddhists construct around terms of equivalent function such as uppajja, uppajjana, uppatti, uppāda, jāyamāna, nibbattana, sañjāti, samudaya, and samuppāda, all relating to the phenomenological process of appearing, arising, manifesting, and thus coinciding with the moment of φύσις in the conception just expounded. These terms, in turn, are connected to birth (jāti), further confirming their parallelism with φύσις ([14], pp. 22–25). For instance, DN 22 states:

katamā ca, bhikkhave, jāti? Yā tesaṃ tesaṃ sattānaṃ tamhi tamhi sattanikāye jāti sañjāti okkanti abhinibbatti khandhānaṃ pātubhāvo āyatanānaṃ paṭilābho, ayaṃ vuccati, bhikkhave, jāti.

And what, O mendicants, is birth? When there is birth, for all kinds of beings, whatever their kind of existence, their conception, the moment of their birth, their becoming, the manifestation of their aggregates, the acquisition of their sensory faculties—this, mendicants, is what is called birth.

We know, finally, that in the Buddhist phenomenological conception, phenomena follow the same principle, φύσις → κρύπτω, with a phase in which the causes and conditions that encounter one another in a phenomenal relation lead to the arising (samudaya, uppajjati) of a composite phenomenon (this is the meaning of samuppāda from saṃ + ud + √pad, which precisely emphasizes the interrelated and composite nature of a phenomenon x, its dependence on causes and conditions, that is, on other phenomena in a complex network of reciprocal relations), which, however, when the phenomenal conditions of its appearing cease, comes to disappear or to cease (nirodha). The axis φύσις → κρύπτω is represented by the Buddhists as the phenomenological process samudaya → nirodha or samuppāda → nirodha, along with various other terms related to appearing that we have previously examined.

SN 12.1 is notably known for applying this process to the phenomenological analysis of psycho-cognitive constructs, thereby prompting the meditator to reflect on the unreliability of their own perceptual means—not only in describing reality subjectively, relying solely on sensations and perceptions that order their experience, but also ‘objectually’, that is, through the constitution of systems of knowledge, of epistemologies that aim to describe reality universally. These systems, being based on cognitive mechanisms that are not deconstructed—since they themselves rely on designations arising from the nāma-rūpa dyad, the semantic root of every cognitive construct—are equally unreliable.

However, we do have an indication of what might bring us closer to the objective, that is, to the absolute, not in a notional sense. Phenomenological analysis, for instance, is a first step in deconstructing notionalism. Indeed, as stated in MN 28, “he who sees the principle of dependent origination of phenomena sees the dhamma” (yo paṭiccasamuppādaṁ passati so dhammaṁ passati) and vice versa (yo dhammaṁ passati so paṭiccasamuppādaṁ passati). This significant assertion already provides us with an important clue regarding what Buddhists consider objectively valid, and this necessarily must take into account the complex processes of interrelation among phenomena, without isolating them individually.

3. Objective and Objectual reality

The term “objective reality” refers to a reality entirely independent of the subject, a reality that would exist regardless of the presence of the subject. Such a reality is undeniably demanded because only it can be considered an authentic foundation. The foundation, indeed, is such because it establishes itself and can do so precisely because it does not depend on anything else.

Perhaps, it might be worth recalling that while “naïve realism” emphasizes the independence of the object, conversely, idealism tends to highlight the object’s dependence and the independence of the subject, reaching a point of maximum dependence of the former and maximum independence of the latter: the “absolute idealism”, in its less sophisticated forms, emerges as the absolutization of subjectivity, to the extent that the subject appears to hold a tetradic value, positing the object. We use “appears” here because neither Fichte, Schelling, nor Hegel intended to refer to the empirical subject. For a more in-depth exploration, reference may be made to Hartmann [15].

The pressing question thus arises: can this reality, which is undeniably demanded, be apprehended? Moreover, directly linked to this query, another question emerges: can the reality represented by experience be considered genuinely “objective”? This theme is undeniably classical, tracing back to the dawn of Greek thought. Even then, a distinction was made between being (εἶναι) and appearing (φαίνομαι), which corresponded to the distinction between reality “in itself” and reality “for us”.

Consequently, the first previously posed question becomes: if this reality “in itself” were apprehended, would it not cease to be in itself, specifically as objective, once apprehended? And the second becomes: if the only reality we apprehend is that “for us”, how can we claim that it is the translation of objective reality, or how can we assert that objective reality, once apprehended, becomes reality for us?

It is because the empirical world of experience is dependently originated, and therefore dependent, that there must be something else. If there were not, the conventional world, the world of experience would have to be autonomous, which the Buddha’s teachings both implicitly and explicitly state is not the case. It is indeed the common human experience of such Reality (whatever ‘it’ is—and I use the term ‘it’ only because constraints of language preclude any less singularising alternative—in itself, whatever its nature, it is clearly not, and cannot be, part of experience) that constitutes the empirical world. ([16], p. 84)

The crucial point is as follows: if objective reality is genuinely autonomous and self-sufficient, it cannot help but be absolute and, therefore, exclude any relation to anything else. In this sense, it cannot exclude even the relationship that would bind it to the reality for us.

It is indeed true that a foundation is required to legitimize experience and thus the knowledge we possess of it. However, does the foundation represented by objective reality effectively justify human experience and knowledge?

On the other hand, when discussing objectual reality, one refers to what pertains to the object of ordinary experience. Common sense, as well as even the most naïve science, considers this object as belonging to a reality entirely independent of the subject. Therefore, the perceived reality is assumed as the true reality, namely objective reality, which, in contrast, must truly be independent of the subject.

The error committed by “naïve realism” consists precisely in conflating these two types of reality and assuming perceived (objectual) reality as if it coincided sic et simpliciter with objective reality.

It must never be forgotten, therefore, that when speaking of “objective reality”, what is meant is not the experience that presents itself to the consciousness of the perceiving subject.

Empirical reality, in short, is assumed as if it were objective reality, taking for granted that it constitutes reality in itself (κατά φύσιν, in se) and failing to grasp that, instead, it arises by virtue of its relation to the subject and, consequently, holds validity as a reality for us (πρός ἡμᾶς, quoad nos). ([17], p. 180)

In short, the object is placed correlatively to the subject, and the most accredited current science tells us that it constitutes a cognitive construct. It is the product of mental processing activated by information received through environmental stimuli. Hence, it is not the cause “external” to our cognitive system responsible for what we perceive but arises within the cognitive system itself, which refers it to the “external” to the perceiving subject’s body, placing it within the perceptive field of the latter ([17], p. 183).

The etymology of the word “object” indirectly confirms this notion. This expression denotes “that which is thrown in front” (ob-iectum, obiciō) of the subject, so that if the subject did not exist, neither would the object. Subject and object, as we mentioned, are correlative terms.

The reality in which objects are placed constitutes objectual reality, which cannot be confused in any way with objective reality: the latter must emerge beyond the reality composed of objects. Precisely for this reason, we affirmed that true reality cannot help but be the absolute, because only the absolute stands as the exclusion of every relationship, both external and internal to it.

External relation is excluded because it would reduce the absolute to a mere determinate, serving as its limit. Internal relation is excluded because the absolute cannot differentiate within itself and give rise to two parts that would negate it as absolute, reducing it to a set.

Precisely because the absolute emerges beyond the realm of experience, it constitutes the undeniable foundation thereof. It constitutes the foundation because only the absolute does not require anything else to be and stands as what the collection of determinates necessitates given the insufficiency of each of them as well as of the collection itself.

What has been stated seems to find significant confirmation in Buddhist philosophy. For the Buddha, the reality perceived by humans does not constitute authentic reality, namely the reality we have defined as “objective”, as it only configures as the result of an intersubjective consortium, namely as an imposition of norms that are of cognitive nature: “form, O mendicants, is a norm of the world in the world that the Buddha understands and comprehends” (rūpaṃ, bhikkhave, loke lokadhammo taṃ tathāgato abhisambujjhati abhisameti, SN 22.94).

The world, as we are reminded, is characterized by its “form,” which refers to the set of distinctive traits defining each individual determination, as well as their collective whole. This collective whole constitutes what is contained within the perceptual field that every subject encounters at every moment of their life. This “form”, the perceived reality as “modeled” by the subject, is the product of internal processes within the subject itself, unfolding according to rules or norms. This insight of the Buddha anticipates the most accredited conceptions of modern science regarding perception.

For Buddhists, it’s important to emphasize that tactile experience, for example, is not the result of direct contact with objective reality, as one might naively assume. When one comes into contact with an object, strictly speaking, they touch a mental construct externalized and placed within the perceptual field. Hence, when we touch, we establish contact (phassa) with a presumed object, so tactile experience is not the result of “direct contact” with objective reality because the latter cannot be separated from objectual reality. The former is reality itself; the latter is reality in close relation to the subject, to the extent that objectual forms are but products of the subject’s elaborative processes.

Externally to the subject, contemporary science would say, only aggregates of energy exist, from which stimuli originate, impacting the subject and which the subject processes, translating them into objectual forms.

The Buddha demonstrates acute awareness of the purely “objectual” nature of perceived reality, and hence, the first error he suggests correcting concerns the rigid opposition between the dimension of interiority (ajjhattika) and that of exteriority (bāhira), precisely because what appears exterior is nothing but the “exteriorized”.

For this reason, the Buddha invites his disciples to focus primarily on interiority, constituting the fundamental dimension. In MN 43, it is stated: “one perceives what one feels and knows what perceives” (yaṃ hāvuso, vedeti taṃ sañjānāti, yaṃ sañjānāti taṃ vijānāti), because “things are mixed, not separate” (tasmā ime dhammā saṃsaṭṭhā no visaṃ-saṭṭhā), much like an indistinct and continuous nebula of meaning. Therefore, “you can never fully discern them to describe a difference between them” (na ca labbhā imesaṃ dhammānaṃ vinibbhujitvā vinibbhujitvā nānākaraṇaṃ paññāpetun ti). This is the same semiological principle that Saussure pointed out in his Cours:

En face de ce royaume flottant, les sons offriraient-ils par eux-mêmes des entités circonscrites d’avance ? Pas davantage. La substance phonique n’est pas plus fixe ni plus rigide; ce n’est pas un moule dont la pensée doive nécessairement épouser les formes, mais une matière plastique qui se divise à son tour en parties distinctes pour fournir les signifiants dont la pensée a besoin. ([18], pp. 215–216)

The fundamental shift occurs between “sensation” and “perception”, relying on the subjective activity of discernment. The phase of sensation follows the phase of contact (phassa) with something primordial, taking on the character of an indistinct form (rūpa). Sensation thus maintains an indistinct character (vedanā), and the “determined” has not yet formed, something that has a clear function in organizing the subject’s experience [19].

When experiencing determinations, one transitions from sensation to “perception” (sañña). The latter is triggered by subjective and cognitive factors (cetasika), allowing the emergence of a “world” (loka) based on the organization of indistinct forms, rendered clear and recognizable. Therefore, in the stage of perception, the presented world is predominantly subjective (an externalization of internal or subjective factors) and for this reason cannot claim to be identified with authentic “objectivity” [20].

The Buddha repeatedly reaffirms that the “world” (loka) ceases to appear as soon as these mental activities are blocked in their progression ([21], pp. 115–119). Perception, it should be added, is not only the result of mental processes but also of “constructs” (saṅkhāra), which are concepts and biases allowing the world to appear. The foundation of this process of world production is precisely “discernment” (viññāna), constituting a set of extremely delicate developments involving not only syntactic but also semantic operations.

When Buddhists discuss the perception of the world, they involve nominal codes (nāma) and designation mechanisms (paññatti), highlighting how perceived reality forms only in relation to consciousness. Specifically, they use a series of terms, each describing a specific function and therefore having its own corresponding verbal counterpart, such as “recognizing” (sañjānāti) and “discerning” (vijānāti).

The remarkable resonance between the Buddhist conception and contemporary perception science is noteworthy. The latter teaches that what is external to our body can become internal to it because the medium is represented by language. Both the external environment and the internal environment can be considered two distinct languages, and one can be translated into the other. The language of external (or environmental) forms is thus translated into the language of internal forms, which manifest in two fundamental types: biological language and psychological language.

The former is essentially made of chemical elements and electrical impulses; the latter, at least according to the classical cognitive model, consists of symbols and rules instructing symbol processing (or representations).

If perceptual-sensitive experience is characterized by the independence of the object both from the subject and from any other object, by contrast, conceptual knowledge is founded on the consciousness of the relational structure of the object. The consciousness of the value of relation thus underlies the transition from the sensible level to the conceptual level of experience. ([17], p. 183)

The convergence point of both languages is the configuration of the perceptual field, marking the transition from the unconscious phase of processing (the bottom-up process) to the conscious phase. In the perceptual field, unlike exclusively syntactic forms and elaborations, one deals with objects, and thus with meanings and even semantic elaborations [22,23,24].

When meanings emerge, consciousness comes into play because only consciousness recognizes and encodes them. Through transcendental and empirical categories, consciousness not only identifies each “thing”, differentiating it from all others and relating it to them, but also categorizes the percept (the top-down process), assigning a code to each perceived thing, enabling its naming and inscription into various languages [25,26,27].

This process realizes what scientists refer to as the perceptual–inferential cycle, emphasizing that perception occurs only through the integration of secondary processes, namely categorizations and reasoning. Our consciousness (viññāṇa), therefore, not only plays a decisive role in shaping the contents of the perceptual field but also in organizing and formally defining it.

In Buddhist philosophy, the commencement of the cycle of conditionality (paṭiccasamuppāda) is posited as avijjā, commonly translated as ignorance. It is through the lack of awareness within this inherently pathological system that the world and its sufferings persist. In the Mahānidānasutta (DN 15), the query “is there a specific condition for name and form?” (atthi idappaccayā nāmarūpan ti iti puṭṭhena satā, ānanda) receives the response that they are such due to consciousness (viññāṇapaccayā nāmarūpan ti iccassa vacanīyaṃ). The doctrine of dependent origination (paṭiccasamuppannaṃ) is expounded to address the issue of psychic structure. The Buddha rejects both self-originating (sayaṃ-kata) and externally induced (paraṃ-kata) factors as sources for things. Within the same text, it is also stated that discernment (viññāṇa) is an emergent property of the name-form complex (nāmarūpa). Here, the term rūpa is to be understood as a more primordial form, antecedent to attributed meaning (attha-paññatti). It becomes apparent, therefore, that the nāma-rūpa unity expressed by Buddhist thinkers actually denotes a function wherein a naming process occurs from an original and undifferentiated rūpa through the process of vijānāti.

Buddhist philosophy, with an intuition that appears remarkably insightful for its ability to anticipate times, sees consciousness itself as the source of the world as we perceive it. Indeed, it results from the activity of discernment, an operation that segments the perceptual flow, giving rise to the configuration of distinct existing entities.

This point is truly crucial and deserves further exploration. We do so by revisiting the discourse starting from a fundamental distinction, one expressed in the dichotomy of exteriority/interiority, which we will delve into in the following paragraph.

Only after reflecting on this crucial dichotomy can we return to analyzing the issue concerning the world (loka) and how it, primarily constituting the entirety of perceived exteriority, should be interpreted as stemming from the fundamental function performed by consciousness.

The conclusion of this analysis will focus on the theme of “detachment”. If the world is the externalization of consciousness, and if consciousness, at least psychological consciousness, manifests due to this inevitable externalization, the subject’s subordination becomes forcefully apparent: the subject is subject to mechanisms beyond their control.

To prevent being engulfed and overwhelmed by the world, therefore, the subject must detach not only from the world but also from that psychological consciousness that forms the root of the world.

4. Internal and External

To adequately deepen the discourse at hand, we have aimed to refer back to the dichotomy present since ancient times in Buddhist thought. This dichotomy, as mentioned, is that between “inward” (ajjhattaṃ) and “outward” (bahiddhā). This contrast can serve to emphasize the fundamental distinction between the “objective” and the “objectual” [28].

It’s important to recall that by the term “objectual”, we choose to denote what pertains to the object of ordinary experience. This object is commonly considered, both by common sense and even by the most naïve science, as belonging to a reality completely independent of the subject. Thus, the perceived reality is assumed to be the true reality, i.e., the “objective” reality, which, however, cannot be anything but absolutely independent of the subject.

According to Qian Lin’s interpretation ([29], p. 343), the binomial ajjhattaṃ/bahiddhā can be traced back to aspects of subjective/objective experience. However, in light of what has been discussed in the present paper, it would be more appropriate to correct this interpretation to subjective/objectual, since the Buddhists make it clear that what pertains to bahiddhā is not so much related to the phenomenon as such but is nonetheless connected to the corporeality of subjects: bahiddhā is the phenomenon insofar as it is perceived as external, that is, as an object of the senses, whereas ajjhattaṃ is not so much sensory experience itself but rather its organization into specific percepts by consciousness. The ‘semantical’ aspect is thus present both within and without, as demonstrated by the following passage from SN 12.19:

avijjānīvaraṇassa, bhikkhave, bālassa taṇhāya sampayuttassa evamayaṃ kāyo samudāgato.eti ayañceva kāyo bahiddhā ca nāmarūpaṃ, itthetaṃ dvayaṃ, dvayaṃ  paṭicca phasso saḷevāyatanāni, yehi phuṭṭho bālo sukhadukkhaṃ paṭisaṃvedayati etesaṃ vā aññatarena.

O mendicants, for a fool who is dominated by ignorance and bound by attachment, his body has been produced. There is thus a dualism between such a body and an external name-and-form. Contact depends on this dualism. When contact occurs between one or the other of the six sensory spheres [and the object of the senses], the fool thereby experiences pleasure and pain.

Through an analysis of parallels in the Chinese Āgama, Qian Lin traces back to a more detailed conception of what is external and what is internal, whereby

we have internally “the body with consciousness (savijñānaka kāya),” but the external part is “name-and-form (nāmarūpa)” instead of “all signs (sarvanimitta).” Clearly, however, both passages describe the same basic perceptual structure, and we may therefore conclude that nāmarūpa must be equivalent to sarvanimitta in this context, and that both these terms refer to the “external” objects of experience. ([29], p. 345)

This interpretation of internal and external as the subjective and objective aspects of experience can be further confirmed by the sūtras’ explicit references to the six sense bases (āyatana) as “internal” (ajjhattika), and to their respective objects as “external” (bāhira). It should also be noted that, when mentioning the six internal and six external bases, the terms for internal and external are in their adjectival forms (ajjhattika and bāhira), while in the Satipaṭṭhānasutta and other passages teaching specific contemplative techniques, the terms used are adverbs (ajjhattaṃ and bahiddhā). ([29], p. 346)

For the Buddha, not only can the reality attested by the senses not be assumed as true reality, but the wise person knows that everything said about such reality never constitutes genuine discourse but mere opinion, view (diṭṭhi). This aspect is connected not only with the relationship of how the external is constituted from the internal but also with the relationship that consciousness entertains with the world. In every single moment of one’s life, the subject takes a position regarding the surrounding reality.

In the Pāli canon, there’s a precise use of the term sacca; it signifies both the real, which is incontrovertible and contrasts with objectual reality, inherently debatable, and the true discourse used in opposition to “opinion” and “hearsay” (micchā), term also etymologically analogous to the Greek μῦθος.

If the perceived reality isn’t the true reality, the primary consequence drawn from this awareness is that any discourse concerning apparent reality cannot concern truth. Hence, the Buddha’s advice: do not lose yourself in the extrinsic but search for what is intrinsic.

This highlights the primacy of the inner dimension, where the Buddha indicates fundamental inner truths. He speaks of four “noble truths” that lead to liberation from suffering. It’s noteworthy that these truths themselves are indicated by the term saccā, while opinions, i.e., rumors or beliefs corresponding to Greek δόξα, are still called micchā. Specifically, the Buddha speaks of “wrong views” (micchā-diṭṭhi) to denote everything that constitutes beliefs about the appearances of the world.

However, falsehood is never synonymous with “non-existence”. It’s evident that to the observer of phenomena (the empirical subject), the world ‘appears’ in a certain way. Thus, a crucial distinction must be proposed, both theoretically and hermeneutically: being is not existence.

If being is the foundation of all entities, it cannot be considered an entity but must transcend them and hold value for its absoluteness. In contrast, to exist means to co-exist, in the sense that every existent (entity) stands insofar as it refers to another existent, in that web of relationships constituting the structure of the empirical universe, i.e., the world.

The world, although it doesn’t constitute true being or true reality, nevertheless represents what the empirical subject constantly deals with. For this reason, Buddhists strongly emphasize the necessity of not being engulfed by it but focusing on the inner dimension, which is the foundation of the outer.

One might say, therefore, that there’s a continuous reversal of the inner dimension into the outer and vice versa. If the outer dimension refers to the inner as its foundation, the inner dimension refers to the outer as its expression and manifestation. Hence, the need to re-examine the world in light of the acquired awareness.

A classical description of the world (loka) proposed by Buddhists might be considered as follows:

lokassa, bhikkhave, samudayañca atthaṅgamañca desessāmi. aṃsuṇātha, sādhukaṃmanasi karotha, bhāsissāmī ti. evaṃ, bhante ti kho te bhikkhū bhagavato paccassosuṃ. bhagavā etad avoca. katamo ca, bhikkhave, lokassa samudayo? cakkhuṃca paṭicca rūpe ca uppajjati cakkhuviññāṇaṃ, tiṇṇaṃsangati phasso, phassapaccayā vedanā, vedanāpaccayā taṇhā, taṇhāpaccayā upādānaṃ, upādānapaccayā bhavo, bhavapaccayā jāti, jātipaccayā jarāmaraṇaṃsokaparidevadukkhadomanassupāyāsā sambhavanti. ayaṃlokassa samudayo […] tassāyeva taṇhāya asesavirāganirodhā upādānanirodho […] evame-tassa kevalassa dukkhakkhandhassa nirodho hoti. ayaṃkho, bhikkhave, lokassa atthaṅgamo ti.

“Oh mendicants, I will teach you about the origin and end of the world. Listen and pay attention to what I will say”.

“Yes, sir,” replied the mendicants. Then the Blessed One spoke:

“So, mendicants, what then is the origin of the world?

Visual consciousness arises dependent on the eye and vision. The meeting of these three produces contact. Contact is the condition that leads to sensation. Sensation is the condition that leads to the urge of desire. The urge is the condition that leads to attachment. Attachment is the condition that leads to becoming. Becoming is the condition that leads to birth. Birth is the condition that leads to aging, death, sorrow, lamentation, pain, sadness, and distress. This is the origin of the world. [...] When attachment ceases, existence ceases [...]. Thus, the entire chain of suffering comes to cessation. This is the end of the world.”

(SN 12.144)

In numerous texts, much like this one, the world is depicted as a construct formed through a nexus of interdependent and interconnected perceptions. To us, the “world” appears as an indisputable certainty, and we sustain ourselves on this conviction. Nonetheless, as expounded by the Buddha, while the world may manifest to us as a certainty, it is in actuality contingent upon the experiences of subjects. In his analyses regarding the origin and cessation of the world, what he observes is that the forms, concepts, sensations, and everything encompassing what we term the “world” are part of a perceptual experience that commences and culminates within the subject: the world cannot in any way be conceived as independent from the subject and preexisting to it. It is precisely due to this rationale that we contend that even within Buddhist philosophy, the distinction we propose becomes imperative, necessitating the replacement of the term “objective” with “objectual”.

The world we experience is populated by a series of “objects”, referred to as aggregates (khandha) or elements within a chain of phenomena (paṭiccasamuppāda). The “becoming” of things is, in fact, a mode dependent on the inter-action relationship of mutually competing elements. It is a continuum in which we can identify certain focal points, but from which we cannot extract any element without the entire chain of phenomena collapsing.

In the Buddhist theory, contact stands as one of the constituent factors of nominal identity (nāma), referring to the entity assigned a nominal code. This entity is constituted not only by perception (saññā), as discussed thus far, but also by sensation (vedanā), volition (cetanā), and attention (manasikāra). These five elements: form (rūpa), sensation (vedanā), perception (saññā), mental formations (saṅkhāra), and ultimately conscious discernment (viññāna), constitute the five aggregative elements (khandha) upon whose conjunction depends the perception of self-identity and things (attā). Both the five aggregates and the chain of conditioned co-production operate in a fascicular manner: they are not separable gears composing a kind of mechanism, but rather a continuum of identifiable yet co-implicating elements, hence inseparable. Since each element invokes the others, separating them from their reciprocal relationship would render them meaningless. In AN 10.60, we find an exhortation to meditate on the absence of self in all senses, as well as in forms, sensory objects such as tastes, the body and contacts, thoughts, and phenomena (cakkhu anattā, rūpā anattā, sotaṃ anattā, saddā anattā, ghānaṃ anattā, gandhā anattā, jivhā anattā, rasā anattā, kāyā anattā, phoṭṭhabbā anattā, mano anattā, dhammā anattā). This type of meditation is called “dwelling on the non-self of the six inner and outer sensory fields” (chasu ajjhattikabāhiresu āyatanesu anattānupassī viharati). Here, we arrive at a crucial point. The notions of “external” and “internal” are rejected as a dichotomy because they do not refer to a concrete reality but rather to an aggregate of nominal and selfless phenomena. This concept is reiterated multiple times: in SN 35.6, forms are non-self (rūpā... anattā) and so too are the sensory perceptions that arise from them, as already mentioned. The meditator must focus on dis-identifying with these: “This is not mine, this is not me, this is not my self” in order to arrive at the correct understanding of the suchness of things and their absence of self (‘netaṃ mama, nesohamasmi, na meso attā’ti evametaṃ yathābhūtaṃ sammappaññāya daṭṭhabbaṃ). This applies, of course, to the six senses as well (cakkhuṃ... anattā, and so on), for which the same triple disidentification must be repeated (SN 35.3). Interestingly, this sutta is titled “The Internal as Non-Self” (ajjhattānattasutta; see also analogous suttas such as SN 35.224 Ajjhattāyatana-anattasutta, SN 35.192-194 ajjhattātītādianattasutta, SN 35.210-212 ajjhattātītādiyadanattasutta).

There is a tendency to think that “consciousness” reflects this unstoppable cycle that shapes the world’s becoming. However, it is indeed the opposite. It’s not consciousness that derives from the world but rather the world from consciousness [30]. This holds true for multiple reasons. Firstly, the world is what we sensibly perceive, becoming the “world” when the bundle of perceptions is organized and unified by consciousness. It allows the translation of the language of external forms, consisting of stimuli and information, into the language of internal forms.

Buddhist thought considers the lexeme (samaññā), identifying a sign (sañña) as a signification (sankhā), a product of the relationship between nominal-significant (nāma) and formal–meaning (rūpa). This is a result of a convention (vohāro) forming part of a common conception (paññatti), which would not exist without such agreement. This complex system of cognitive reiteration is termed “semantic-significant proliferation” (papañcasaññāsankhā). Applied to subjects (puggala), it implies the absence of independent sentient beings (satta): the “existents” are nothing but a set of cognitive factors (suddhasaṅkhārapuñja).

As we now know, stimuli and information activate perceptual processes. Therefore, the idea that consciousness is a mere reflection of a world of objects, possessing primary and secondary qualities but independent of the subject, constitutes a naïve realism belonging only to common sense.

Contrarily, contemporary science teaches us that what is external to our body can become internal because the medium is represented by language itself [31,32]. Both the external environment and the internal environment can be considered two languages, with one translating into the other. The language of external (or environmental) forms translates into the language of internal forms, manifesting in two fundamental types: biological language and psychological language.

The theoretical biology of von Uexküll is a discipline that has been able to provide, both to experimental science and philosophy [33], significant considerations regarding the role of perception of interiority and the alleged external world by simple and complex biological forms. Uexküll’s work has delineated the issue of world perception as a problem that intertwines biology, semiotics, and phenomenology [34], which together constitute the entirety of the ‘inner world’ (Umweltraum), albeit subjectively experienced. “If the semiotic and the living are the same, then it follows that the principles of semiotics should be true for biology, and also, that the laws of biology should be of interest for semiotics, since these are the laws of the functioning of texts” ([31], p. 301).

Biological language essentially comprises chemical elements and electrical impulses, while, according to the classical cognitive model, psychological language involves symbols and rules instructing symbol processing (or representations), i.e., cognitive processes. The convergence of both languages occurs in the configuration of the perceptual field, transitioning from the unconscious phase of processing (the bottom-up process) to the conscious phase.

In the perceptual field, there is a shift from exclusively syntactic forms and elaborations to dealing with objects, thus meanings, and even semantic elaborations. When meanings appear, consciousness comes into play because only consciousness recognizes and encodes them. Through transcendental and empirical categories, consciousness not only identifies each “thing”, differentiating it from all others and relating it to them but also categorizes the percept (the top-down process). It assigns a code to each perceived thing, enabling its naming and inscription in various languages.

Thus, what scientists term the perceptual-inferential cycle is realized, emphasizing that perception occurs only when integrated with second-level processes, i.e., categorizations and reasoning. Our consciousness not only plays a decisive role in shaping the contents of the perceptual field but also in organizing and formally defining it.

Buddhist philosophy, with an intuition that appears truly ingenious, envisions consciousness precisely as the source of the world as we perceive it. It results from the discernment activity, segmenting the perceptual flow and giving rise to the configuration of existing things, each distinct from the other. This distinction the Buddhism makes between consciousness/discernment (viññāṇa) and wisdom (paññā) is crucial. The latter represents a form of “gnosis” or “awareness of what lies ahead” (pra-jñā): its construct, derived from prá- “that which stands in front” and jñā “to know”, is identical to the Greek word πρόγνωσις both structurally and philologically, as the Indo-European roots composing both terms are the same. Indian “prognosis” refers to an ultimate form of awareness, surpassing any conceptual antinomy: “the eye of gnosis, from which knowledge arises, is immeasurable. Whoever acquires this eye becomes free from all torment” (yato ñāṇaṃ udapādi paññācakkhu anuttaraṃ yassa cakkhussa paṭilābhā sabbadukkhā pamuccati, Iti 52).

5. World and Consciousness

At this juncture, it is pertinent to clarify the distinctions drawn within Buddhist thought between “discernment”, “synthetic perception”, and “awareness”. The initial term is often rendered as “consciousness”, yet it is crucial to consider its connotation specifying it as “discernment”, denoting a “mechanism” capable of organizing knowledge (jānāti) based on divisions (vi-). The associated verb, vijānāti, precisely signifies “discerning”.

In the Abhidhamma, each cognitive organ is delineated as carrying out a specific function (kicca). The eye organ (cakkhu) is attributed to the visual function (dassana-kicca), while the ear organ (sota) is linked to the auditory function (savaṇa-kicca), and so forth for each constituent organ within this category: the nose for olfaction (ghāna), the tongue for taste (jivhā), and the body for touch (kāya). Specifically, the Abhidhamma identifies six “doors” (dvāra), denoting channels of cognition, coinciding with the respective perceptive organ (pasāda) itself. The initial five are familiar: eye, nose, mouth, ears, and skin, forming a theoretical unit of five sensory processes (pañca-dvāra-vīthi), while the sixth organ is represented by the cognitive function itself, or the mental door (mano-dvāra-vīthi).

Discernment is solely linked to the sense faculties, comprising six in total: beyond the traditional five—sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste—Buddhism regards thought–consciousness as the sixth faculty. Each of the six faculties possesses its corresponding viññāṇa, all coordinated by manoviññāṇa, thought–discernment ([35], p. 172), operating as a unified conscientious bundle. The mental channel is perceived as the procedural director of the other five sensory channels, hence the reference to a process of mixed gates (missaka-dvāra-vīthi). Therefore, there exists no isolated visual discernment separate from tactile discernment, and so forth.

Nevertheless, the ability to discern, as the term implies, entails division, which pertains to an organizational division of the world carried out by nominal codes, constituting the identities of “things” attributed through “forms” (rūpa) in a wholly arbitrary and conventional manner. Consequently, the world is broken down, transitioning from its amorphous unity constituting “sensation” to a limited series of name-forms, thus giving “form” to a specific perceptual field.

The process might be described, therefore, as following the breakdown caused by sensory channels, which then leads to a breakdown stemming from nominal codes, configuring a “second-level” breakdown. This further breakdown is feasible beginning from perception operated by the senses. To elucidate this crucial point, a recapitulation is warranted.

Perception is the result of a “function” directing the empirical data flow to the six sensory channels, rendering this function as a “discerning organ”. This primary receptive function is termed saññā, “perception”. The term refers to a form of knowledge engendered by contact with the perceived object (saṃ- “with”). The associated verb is sañjānāti, “to recognize”. It represents an initial form of world experience: perception not only initiates an initial breakdown by receiving data divided based on sensory channels but also interprets them through the sense organs.

At the pinnacle of this interpretation, however, a subsequent division arises. Despite perceptual data constituting a continuous flow, they are segmented, and discernment intervenes to organize them according to their subdivision into discrete entities, which then assume specific names and forms.

Nevertheless, following the phase of perception, Buddhism envisages a phase where the transcending of this chain of determinations occurs, striving to reconstruct increasingly coherent unities. This phase is samādhi: the contemplative state wherein the practitioner transcends the dichotomous distinction through which mundanity is conventionally conceived.

In yogic contexts, samādhi substitutes for mystical and symbolic reunification. Originating from the Greek σύμβολον, denoting something thrown (σύν-) together (-βάλλω), the term samādhi, indicating the unity between subject and object, derives from “putting (dhā) together (sama)”.

In this sense, it represents pure “understanding” and in other works, has been translated as “awareness”: in this state, there is cessation (nivṛtta) of cognitive activity (cittagocaraḥ), inherently mechanistic and correspondingly akin to the cognitive unconsciousness of contemporary psychology. It initiates the activity of genuine consciousness.

The mechanisms, it is worth recalling, inevitably relate to the problem of interiority and exteriority (ajjhattaṃ, bahiddhā) addressed in the preceding paragraph. Nevertheless, those presuming knowledge of what is truly internal or external are promptly admonished by the Buddha.

When discernment operates, it “objectifies” the experience of reality, leading to the configuration of a dual form of reality. The first reality is “external”, conceived in opposition to the “internal”; this reality is “objective” because it arises from the mechanism of discernment. The second reality emerges upon attaining full awareness, where it no longer opposes an “other” (internally), becoming the optimal condition for the transition to “objective reality”, i.e., truth itself.

The “ignorant” (avijjā), in essence, “see” the internal forms and consequently the external ones (ajjhattaṃ rūpasaññī eko bahiddhā rūpāni passati). Up to this point, a constant duality persists in conscious experience, based on the internal/external dichotomy, which can be translated as subjective/objective. However, the pivotal point is that meditation persistently attempts to dismantle this dichotomy, allowing only the reality assumed as a “launching pad” for objective truth, i.e., the absolute itself.

To be more precise: as long as the meditator perceives external forms from internal ones, they remain within the subjective/objective dimension. When the conditioning of internal forms “ceases” due to meditation, only the external appears, yet no longer in opposition to something, in the sense that its dichotomy is abolished.

This represents “the best of all possible situations” as from it, one can aspire solely to objective reality, no longer objective, which is the truth (tadaggaṃ, imesaṃ aṭṭhannaṃ abhibhāyatanānaṃ yadidaṃ ajjhattaṃ arūpasaññī eko bahiddhā rūpāni passati, AN 10.29).

One could say, translating into the terms of Western philosophy, that the acknowledged empirical state as the best is the one enabling the full realization of the intentiō vēritātis, i.e., one where the intention of truth is imperative. Such intention constitutes the essence of every pursuit. Furthermore, it is not conditioned by experience but aims to transcend it to dissolve into truth, to be one with it.

This elevation process is inspired by pure thought, which Buddhists still define as an “organ” for the “coordinating function” believed it performs.

manopubbaṅgamā dhammā,

manoseṭṭhā manomayā;

manasā ce paduṭṭhena,

bhāsati vā karoti vā;

tato naṃdukkhamanveti,

cakkaṃva vahato padaṃ

The things are led by thought,

Thought governs them, thought shapes them;

If spoken or acted upon with corrupt intentions,

Pain will pursue us,

like the wheel pursues the imprint of the ox [pulling the cart].

(Dhp 1)

The word manas (Pāli: mano), literally “thought”, can also convey the concept of ‘mind’. On the other hand, the same Indo-European root *men-, from which it derives, also generated mēns, mentis and μένος. Also note in this context the similarity with the Parmenidean statement: τὸ γὰρ αὐτὸ νοεῖν ἐστίν τε καὶ εἶναι (fragment 3).

The Abhidhamma will specifically observe within the consciousness of thought, which today we would define as self-awareness, a form of consciousness that synthesizes and regulates all others bound to sensory channels. In this regard, an illustrative paradigm could be taken from the visual consciousness (cakkhuviññāṇa) described in the Madhupiṇḍikasutta (MN 18), enabling an understanding of how consciousness is construed as the source of the world seen, not as its reflection or product. This example is then extended to the consciousness of all other organs.

In this conception, consciousness is inherently linked to the realm of language. It triggers a sequence of interconnected reactions–productions that maintain not only the referentiality of language itself but also its self-referentiality, that is, its reproductive character.

From vision, specifically from the contact (phassa) between the eye (cakkhu) and the element interpreted as visual data, a mechanism is unleashed that fuels “visual consciousness” (cakkhuviññāṇa). As with any other sensory consciousness, contact leads to the arising of sensation (vedanā), and from this, perception (saññā), as all future perceptions refer back to past visual experiences. Thus, the notion (sañjānāti) of the linguistic sign, “established” by previous visions, is maintained and reinforced with each subsequent vision.

manañcāvuso, paṭicca dhamme ca uppajjati manoviññāṇaṃ, tiṇṇaṃ saṅgati phasso, phassa-paccayā vedanā, yaṃ vedeti taṃ sañjānāti, yaṃ sañjānāti taṃ vitakketi, yaṃ vitakketi taṃ papañceti, yaṃ papañceti tatonidānaṃ purisaṃ papañcasaññāsaṅkhā samudācaranti atītānāgatapaccuppannesu manoviññeyyesu dhammesu.

Mental consciousness arises due to the mind and thoughts. The contact among the three constitutes sensation. It is the condition leading to conception. What you feel, you perceive. What you perceive, you think. What you think proliferates within you. This proliferation is the source of identity concepts emerging from the proliferation of perceptions that assail the individual. This occurs by virtue of thoughts produced by the mind in the past, future, and present.

(MN 18)

The reality certified by the senses induces the belief in a dual dimensionality (inside/outside), yet consciousness itself and the thought animating it cannot help but recognize the unity of the whole. When everything is perceived in its intrinsic reference to consciousness and everything else, it becomes evident that none can exist autonomously: the world of things is a realm of insufficiency and dependency. Thus, one cannot fail to grasp its authentic essence: the striving toward absolute independence, the aspiration to coincide with the true reality, which is the reality of the absolute.

A famous meditation, considered by some as the oldest, prompts reflection precisely on this paradox: as long as the mendicant (specifically referring to the Buddha’s disciple, but more broadly, the human being in perpetual journey) is invited to reflect on the body internally and externally (ajjhattabahiddhā), they perceive a “body within the body” (kāye kāya), a psychosomatic splitting due to the inherent paradox in our adherence to objective reality as if it were objective.

Conversely, when we emancipate ourselves from objective reality, we are in a position to transcend the empirical universe and project ourselves toward the only true reality: the objective reality, that is, the reality of the absolute.

To realize the intentiō vēritātis, one must learn to practice detachment from ordinary reality, from the world structured by determinations and relations among these determinations.

Western philosophy demonstrates the necessity of detachment. Buddhist philosophy arrives at the awareness of this necessity without logical demonstrations but doesn’t content itself with this attained awareness, aiming to provide meditative tools through which one can overcome dependence (subordination) to the world.

The entirety of MN 10 is dedicated to the logical justification that leads the practitioner to meditate on four fundamental pillars: contemplation of the body within the body (kāye kāyānupassī), contemplation of sensation within sensation (vedanāsu vedanānupassī), contemplation of cognition within cognition (citte cittānupassī), and finally, contemplation of the norm within the norm (dhammesu dhammānupassī). In doing so, one becomes aware that there “exist” a body, a sensation, a cognition, and norms, thus perceiving the true nature of the body, sensation, cognition, and norms.

The Abhidhamma intentionally pushes this paradoxical splitting to its extreme, speaking ([35], p. 64) of the “materiality of matter” (rūpassa rūpatā), the “feelingness of feeling” (vedanāya vedanātā), and the “perceptionness of perception” (saññāya saññātā). This serves to emancipate the meditator from their manifold dependencies, thereby learning to overcome all attachment to the world (na ca kiñci loke upādiyati).

6. Value of Detachment

The question that arises, therefore, is this: why does “detachment” hold fundamental value? The reason being that only through detachment can one avoid being engulfed by the world, which is merely a collection of phenomena, and project oneself toward the true reality, which is the reality of the One, namely the absolute truth itself.

This absolute constitutes the authentic foundation precisely because it does not enter into relation with the world but grounds the world in the sense of revealing its limit: what appears to be, in fact, is not truly so.

The absolute, therefore, is the unconditional, hence transcendental, condition by virtue of which the relative, namely the empirical–formal universe, is grasped as existing but without being. It appears, but its appearing does not rest upon its being because being, being absolute, withdraws from every relation and hence from every bond to something other than itself.

When Pascal, assuming the perspective of God (that is, of truth) addressing those who seek it, and echoing an Augustinian motif, writes “console yourself, you would not seek me if you had not already found me” (original: “Console-toi, tu ne me chercherais pas si tu ne m’avais trouvé”, cf. Pascal, Pensées 553), he expresses the same concept: it is by virtue of the truth that illuminates me that I can know I do not possess it and am prompted to seek it. The motif of “seeking” and “finding” God must be essentialized and understood, first and foremost, in this sense: one can seek only because one knows of lacking, and if one knows, it means one knows by virtue of God himself (of knowledge itself). This theme is indeed typically Augustinian, but the reference to the Socratic “I know that I know nothing” (ipse se nihil scire id unum sciat) seems undeniable, in which knowledge founds the possibility of not-knowing, that is, the awareness that the truth found (the δόξα, the opinion, namely the relative truth) is not the reality actually sought (the ἐπιστήμη, namely the absolute truth). In the terms we have used, it is by virtue of the absolute truth that the relative truth is recognized, because one apprehends the limit by which it is marked. Augustine addresses the theme both in the Confessions, specifically in the Liber Primus, where he writes: “But how could they call upon him in whom they have not believed? [...] They will praise the Lord who seek him, for those who seek find him” (original: “... laudabunt dominum qui requirunt eum: quaerentes enim inveniunt eum et invenientes laudabunt eum”, Confessiones 1.1.1), and in De Correptione et Gratia (1.2) where he writes: “to desire the help of grace is the beginning of grace”. The theme, which is fundamental, is revisited by Bernard of Clairvaux, who writes: “nemo te quaerere valet nisi qui prius invenerit” (cf. Liber de diligendo Deo, 7.22). And further: “non possunt quaerere non habentes” (cf. Sermones de diversis, 37.4). In summary: “Only those who have already found you can seek you” and “those who do not possess cannot ask”.

From this follows that one cannot claim to determine the foundation, that is, to possess it through the activity of knowing or through some form of experience. One can only intend to be possessed by it, that is, to be enlightened and guided by it in the pursuit directed towards it.

The point is that the ego, the experiencing self, the self that turns toward (ad-vertēre) the world, exists only in this relation, since subject and object, as seen previously, are correlative terms.

The initial step to overcome the ego is, therefore, to learn to detach oneself from the world, and to practice this detachment, one must rely on that consciousness which, illuminated by truth, recognizes the limit of the relative and understands the absolute to lose oneself in it, as only this loss constitutes authentic salvation: to be one with the One.

As the Buddha affirms, personal identity, the ego precisely (attā), is a bond to the ephemeral world inhabited only by relative and impermanent perceptions. It “attaches” affectionately to things of the world, unaware that they are not separate from the totality that is the One, and suffers due to their apparent dissipation.

Precisely for this reason, the Buddha is described as “detached from the world” (lokasmā tathāgato visaṃyutto, AN 4.23), the one who leads it to its “end” (lokanirodhagāminī paṭipadā tathāgatassa bhāvitā). The end of the world coincides with the end of the “internal” mechanisms of “name and form” (MN 9), but this should not surprise us since we have seen so far that such a mechanism coincides with those unconscious subjective processes that lead to the belief in an objective reality (i.e., that the objectual reality is the sole and objective one).

The term ‘name’ constitutes the complementary aspect of ‘form’, the progenitor of the cognitive mechanism. It imparts identity; through naming, constant substance is attributed to the perceived elements of the world. However, the name also embodies a grand deception, for it is arbitrary and conventionally linked to form. Beyond a specific social group, different names will be associated with dissimilar forms or entirely disparate ones from ours due to diverse modes of world perception. Consequently, ‘form’ (rūpa), being inherently an idealized construct internalized and objectified (ajjhattaṃ, internalized, rendered subjective), overlays itself onto the indistinct, shapeless forms of worldly entities (bahiddhā, presumed external). It is identifiable as the perceived significance, namely the ideal concept correlating with the auditory image. In this context, reference to several studies elucidating the purely conceptual idealized nature of “form” in Buddhism is pertinent, transcending mere visual form [36,37,38].

This “cessation” is clearly explained by the emergence of transcendental consciousness aware of these processes and does not constitute an apocalyptic future, but rather detachment from conscious relativities, namely from the psychological states that characterize the experiencing self (empirical). Renunciation of attachment also constitutes the end of suffering (SN 35.107).

As Karunadasa points out ([35], p. 19), the activity of psychological consciousness indissolubly binds the subject to the world. “Conscious discernment” (viññāṇa), as we know, is the constitutive condition (viññāṇa-paccayā nāmarūpaṃ) of the world and the identities that constitute it, as well as the codes attributed to these identities.

This only underscores the crucial point we aim to highlight: experience is not an “objective” reality, so for the Buddhist too, the issue arises of how to attain such reality. And the Buddhist also arrives at the conclusion that since such reality can only be the absolute itself, it is not possible to attain it, but one can only intend to attain it.

The absolute, it must be strongly reiterated, is the true reality independent of the subject. But precisely for this reason, it is undeterminable. If it were determined, it would no longer be independent. It holds as the unconditional condition.

asāre sāramatino, sāre cāsāradassino; te sāraṃ nādhigacchanti, micchāsaṅkappagocarā. sārañca sārato ñatvā, asārañca asārato; te sāraṃ adhigacchanti, sammāsaṅkappagocarā.

To regard what is [inessential, insubstantial] as

Like seeing what is not for what is [essential as inessential]

These do not comprehend what is essential

Feeding on false conceptions

[However,] learning what is essential as essential [what is for what is]

and what is inessential as inessential [what is not for what is not],

these comprehend what is essential [what is],

right conceiving is their nourishment [they feed on the correct way of using conceptions].

(Dhp 11-2)

Note also that the term sārata and its equivalent sāra indicate both essentiality and substantiality. It is connected to the root of the concept of being (sat-) but expresses it conceptually.

As the realm of language (designations), like everything that habitually appears to us, belongs to the world (loka), it is often defined as “mundane” (lokiya). And since the world is different from the absolute, when considered from the perspective of the world itself, understanding the absolute cannot but mean transcending the world.

The Abhidhamma, as well as many commentaries, often employs the term “transmundane” (lokuttara) to indicate the necessary escape from the world that leads toward its transcendence: “nibbāna is called ‘transmundane’ because its realization comes from the knowledge of the quadruple path. It appears as the object of the path, and its fruits are called nibbāna [extinguishment] because they are the abandonment of attachment, which is a bond” (nibbānaṃ pana lokuttarasankhātaṃ catumaggañāṇena sacchikātabbhaṃ magga-phalānam ālambanabhūtaṃ vānasankhātāya taṇhāya nikkhantattā nibbānan ti pavuccati, AS 6.30).

The only way to transcend the world is therefore by surrendering to the truth, which constitutes detachment from what is not truth. The things of the world, though “generated” by our mind, say the Buddhists, keep us away from the unconditioned, from nibbāna, which is the absolute as a unique and undifferentiated reality (tad etaṃ sabhāvato ekavidham pi sa-upādisesa-nibbānadhātu, AS 6.31).

It is telling how the same concepts are expressed with equal force by a German mystic from the Thirteenth and Fourteenth centuries: Master Eckhart.

He argues that it is not sufficient to detach oneself from the world. If one truly intends to detach from the world, then one must first detach from oneself, from that psychological or experiencing self that lives for its attachment to the world.

Thus, he writes in Von dem edeln menschen that if a man were to leave a kingdom or the entire world and maintain himself, he would have abandoned nothing. Conversely, if a man has abandoned himself, even while retaining wealth, honors, or anything else, he has already abandoned everything.

Egocentrism (Eigenschaft) therefore constitutes the obstacle to every impulse directed towards the search for truth, to every reconciliation with oneself and with the world. Attachment (selbstlos) to oneself, also termed narcissism, is the source of all fear and, conversely, fear is the infinite maintenance of an obsessive attachment to oneself: for this reason, only those who are unafraid of losing themselves are destined to be saved.

And it is precisely for this reason that only those who learn to detach even from themselves and especially from their own claims will cease to have fear and thus be disposed to lose themselves in truth, which is their authentic salvation.

Eckhart further asserts in his work Von der Abgeschiedenheit, written around 1320, that pure detachment (abgeschiedenheit) is above all things: “but I praise detachment more than any love” (Ich aber lobe die Abgeschiedenheit mehr als alle Liebe).

Eckhart praises detachment even more than any mercy, because mercy consists solely in the fact that man goes out of himself to meet the miseries of his neighbor and his heart is troubled by it. Detachment is immune to this and remains within itself and is not troubled by anything: for whenever something can trouble man, man is not as he should be.

Abandonment does not signify the rejection of things: rejection is abstract because it abstracts and leaves things as they are [39]. On the contrary, what is meant here is the abandonment of the pretense that things are the truth, that things are absolute, that the self constituting their origin is absolute.

Therefore, there imposes the consciousness no longer empirical but transcendental, of the relative nature of ordinary experience, of the limit that intrinsically constitutes it and that constitutes empirical consciousness itself.

Transcendental consciousness, illuminated by absolute truth, allows avoiding living with excessive seriousness and dramatics what happens on the world stage (internal or external), being sucked into things, being overwhelmed by fear.

Only through it, in fact, is it possible to recognize, and therefore subject to criticism, senseless attachments, obsessive absolutizations, fears, and worries that are expressions of an intolerable servile dependence and a substantial renunciation of authentic subjectivity, which essentializes itself in the intentiō vēritātis.

7. Concluding Remarks

In this article, we have addressed the issue concerning the nature of reality and knowledge, examining it through comparative insights between Buddhist and Western philosophy. Initially, we delved into the concept of foundation and its centrality in philosophical reflection, highlighting the correspondence between the ancient Greek conception of thought and Buddhist philosophy. Both philosophical systems led us to recognize that the foundation is absolute and that the claim to determine it in order to encompass it becomes nonsensical. We then proposed a fundamental distinction between objective and objectual reality, emphasizing that objective reality is entirely independent of the subject, while objectual reality is modulated by the perceptual and cultural processes of each individual.

Subsequently, we examined the relationship between subject and object, introducing both philosophical and scientific concepts aimed at addressing the issue on the epistemological plane, emphasizing that the object configures itself as such by virtue of its determinateness and the relations that link it to the subject and other objects. This analysis led to the conclusion that the ‘true’ reality, the absolute, emerges beyond the realm of experience and relation, excluding both external and internal relations to preserve its absoluteness.

It is important to clarify that within both Buddhist and Indian philosophical traditions, the categories of “absolute” and “relative” are not to be understood in rigid metaphysical terms, but rather as functional or didactic distinctions. The expression paramattha-sacca, often translated as “ultimate truth”, does not refer to an ontological absolute in the Western metaphysical sense, but instead serves to mark the horizon of insight reached through refined epistemic and meditative processes. This is contrasted with sammuti-sacca, “conventional truth”, which encompasses the discursive and pragmatic levels of ordinary experience.

Recent scholarship suggests that these poles are best understood not as ontologically separate realities but as degrees of conventionality or utility—what might be called relative–relative and relative–absolute. This reframing, which echoes Madhyamaka treatments of the two truths as mutually entailing rather than hierarchically stacked, aligns with the pedagogical use of dualistic categories in Buddhist soteriology, where even the “absolute” is eventually deconstructed.

In this light, our earlier formulation of “objectual truth” can be read as a cautionary label: it describes the kind of rigidity that arises when conventional designations are mistaken for ontological certainties. We fully acknowledge that the distinction between absolute and relative, while useful, is itself subject to the same linguistic and logical limitations that the Buddha and Nāgārjuna alike scrutinized.

Regarding the term satya, while etymological connections with the Sanskrit root sat (“to be”) are well-established, we acknowledge that the speculative link to Greek ἵστημι or ἐπιστήμη—though evocative—must be approached with caution. Our intention was not to propose a philologically definitive lineage, but to highlight conceptual resonances across traditions concerning truth as that which “stands”, endures, or resists dissolution. In light of this, we propose a more restrained reading of satya as that which holds epistemic and ethical weight within a given soteriological framework, rather than as a metaphysical constant.

Our investigation then addressed the role of consciousness in shaping the world. Contrary to the traditional idea that considers consciousness as a mere reflection of the external world, we examined the reasons that lead to the assertion that the world instead derives from consciousness. After highlighting how the language of external forms translates into that of internal forms and considering the perceptual-inferential cycle, it became evident that consciousness not only identifies and differentiates things but also organizes the perceptual field by inserting objects into it that also become meanings.

Buddhist philosophy anticipates the contemporary conception of the mind as the source of empirical reality, emphasizing that the world is the product of subjective processes as well as the unifying activity of consciousness. Therefore, consciousness is the point of experience that subsists between subject and object, offering a perspective that integrates elements of Buddhist philosophy and Western philosophy and science.

For Buddhism, any experience of reality, whether immediate or mediated by attempts to analyze and measure it, is an experience of the subject. Thus, it cannot be asserted in any way that reality is independent of the subject, and therefore, the reality we deal with is not the true reality but the reality of the world (loka, lokiya for Buddhists).

True reality, therefore, is what, starting from the Abhidhamma, is defined as “the inherently existing” or “the self-existing” (sabhāva), which can only be the absolute. Everything else is mere convention (paññatti). However, what has been said does not lead to the conclusion that things do not exist, but only to the awareness that absolute being cannot be attributed to them. The absolute, therefore, constitutes the true reality, but precisely because it is absolute, it is not graspable, that is, it is not determinable.

In conclusion, the absolute cannot be attained through consciousness. What can be attained is only the consciousness of the necessity of detachment from apparent reality. The more one detaches oneself from apparent reality, the closer one gets to true reality, which remains the ideal of human inquiry.

Works Cited from the Original Version: Bernard of Clairvaux: De Diligendo Deo; Aurelius Augustinus: Confessiones—Confessionum Libri Tredicim.