Have you ever wondered what people mean when they talk about “nothingness” or “nirvana.” They can be pretty strange subjects to the uneducated. And, as one TED Talk speaker proves, they can be pretty strange topics to the educated, as well.
How one TED speaker got it all wrong when it comes to “nothingness,” and why the concept isn’t actually as weird as anyone thinks.
Read on and let us know what you think in the comments below.
Jim Holt (author of Why Does the World Exist?: An Existential Detective Story), gave a TED Talk published on September 2, 2014, in which he attempted to answer one of the most important questions in the world: “Why Does The Universe Exist?”
In the course of doing so, he made some very real errors and oversimplifications about Buddhism, and some of the other belief systems out there that provide their own insights to the age-old question.
Firstly, “Why do we exist at all?” is an admirable question, perhaps the most important question, and I’m not going to attempt to answer it (for many reasons including, and most importantly, I have no real clue).
Not surprisingly, Jim Holt interweaves humor into the beginning of his nearly 20 minute talk (easy to laugh at the discomfort that arises alongside an unanswerable question, right?) and discusses a number of historical viewpoints on the topic, ranging from philosophic to scientific to religious.
Unfortunately, he simplifies these viewpoints quickly and preemptively, not only for the sake of humor, but also so that he can show why the “answers” suggested by those who’ve come before (or rather, his erroneous simplification of their answers) are not sufficient to answer the “why?” of existence.
The over-simplification that most forcibly caught my attention, given my tendency toward Eastern thought, was his description of “nothingness” as it pertains to Buddhism.
In trying to describe how something could come from nothing, Jim Holt says the following:
“To a Buddhist the world is just a whole lot of nothing – it’s a big, cosmic vacuity.”
This definition simply isn’t correct, and if he’d stopped there I’d still take issue. Unfortunately he continues with his pejorative description:
We [normal, unenlightened people] think there’s a lot of something out there, but that’s because we’re enslaved by our desires. If we let our desires melt away we’ll see the world for what it truly is: a vacuity, nothingness. And we’ll slip into this happy state of nirvana, which has been defined as “having just enough life to enjoy being dead.”
“Just enough life to enjoy being dead?”
Jesus, Jim! Why the hate? Were you raised having to go to Buddhist Church on Sundays, kicking and screaming, and forced to recite a pledge of allegiance which read, “One nation, under Buddha, indivisible…?”
True Buddhism (like Christianity and many other religions, for that matter) is first and foremost, subtle. It requires a real introspection to be integrated into one’s life.
And those who haven’t studied Buddhism are quick to take issue with words like “nothingness.” It’s an easy phrase to misconceive (and rail against), isn’t it?
“Nothing” sounds terrible, like the great infinite darkness of space that we all fear we’ll be stuck in for eternity when we die. Like falling asleep (somehow consciously, and in impenetrable darkness) and never waking up. Of course that sounds scary, and odd.
So who, in their right mind, would deliberately subscribe to a belief system that elevates that?
Unfortunately, that’s where so many people stop, and go back to the safety of their own belief structures. It’s a shame, because the real meaning (and the little bit of peace that can come from that meaning) was lost in translation. We (Westerners) already have a conception of the word “nothing,” and so when the original translators used that word in relationship to Buddhism, we couldn’t help but jump to conclusions.
But what if I did something as simple as insert a little “nothingness,” a little space, in the word itself. What if, instead of the word “nothing”, we sat for a moment with two words: “No” and “thing.” How might that change your perception of the meaning?
Because Buddhist “nothingness” does not mean vacuity.
“Nothing” in Buddhism simply means no “thing.”
And Buddhism goes on to remind the student that “things” are ideas, concepts, definitions and WORDS that we (as conscious humans) apply to the forms and stuff we see and experience in this existence.
Don’t get me wrong: words are great. I’m writing this blog now with great enthusiasm. I was an English Literature major in college (the first person to find a typo in this blog will certainly remind me of that). I’m not sure how we’d communicate our thoughts and feelings, relate stories and history, or plan the evening’s meal without using them.
Words have drawbacks though. Words (and their definitions) define. They cut lines in the sand as to what they mean, and what they don’t mean. The decision on where to place that line, back when a word was first conceptualized by the first speaker of that language, was arbitrary. How else could it not be?
It’s like when we first decided the rules to the game of football – they were arbitrary. But ask any die-hard fan on any given Sunday – those rules (as arbitrary as they may have been a couple hundred years ago) are EXTREMELY important now: in their interpretation, in their implementation, and in how consistently a team abides by the rules and a referee enforces them.
People feel the same way about words and concepts and beliefs. It’s important that we agree on their meanings, their uses, and their implementation. But if two people don’t agree – look out. And damnit, when life doesn’t comply with our belief systems, or fit into our definitions, we get MAD.
Buddhism simply reminds people that it’s our mind (and its desire to define the world) that tries to break our experience into lots of separate parts (things). But it’s only our mind that does that, and not the world outside our mind.
The world outside our mind doesn’t have edges, per sĂ©, and isn’t limited by concepts. And, while we may wish that it weren’t the case, the world out there (and even the workings and inner nature of our mind itself) can’t ever be fully described using words. Nor will it ever fit perfectly into our definitions and beliefs. That’s part of the wonder of it.
The simple act of remembering this (the arbitrary nature of, and the limitations inherent in, ALL the words and concepts we’ve ever held so dear) allows us to go a little easier on ourselves.
To say, “Wow, it’s my ideas about the world, and about myself, and how I think they should be, that have me all twisted up in knots today” lets us hold on a little less tightly, and maybe breathe a little easier.
Even this more accurate description of Buddhist “nothingness” doesn’t go on to answer the “why?” of existence (not that it tries). Maybe that’s because Buddhism sees the word “why?” as falling into the same trap as all the rest. Not wrong in its nature, but limited. Hence I might say that a question like “Why is the universe?” is, in and of itself, too limited a question to be valid. I don’t know. It gets hard to even conceptualize.
That said, it’s rather disheartening to hear a “learned” person like Jim Holt speak so matter-of-factly about Buddhism while being so damned wrong. And then dismiss its very practical teachings in an effort to show how he’s come up with “something new.” But maybe it’s just my belief that people “should” understand what the Eastern philosophies are trying to teach that has me frustrated, in the end.
Either way, I hope you breathe a little easier.
Speaking of thinking, what do you think? If you like this post (or hate it, but want to show your friends how much of an idiot I am), please consider sharing it on your social media. And leave a comment below!



Great post. Holt’s argument is typical of academics (being one myself): tear down and belittle everyone else’s ideas to make room for my own, as if it were a zero sum game. As if my own ideas weren’t indebted to every other idea that came before.
As the ancient proverb states:
We stand on the shoulders of our ancestors… and shit on their heads.