Looking Back at My Thoughts in Conversation
This is the Arahant’s Live Broadcast. Let me begin by greeting Venerable Dao, Liquid, and Eungeung, who are already here. Dao had been keeping the room company for a while, so it is good to see others joining too. Some of you are working hard at second jobs in the evening; others have been watching almost my entire back catalog and leaving comments. I appreciate your being here.
Today is another occasion for conversation. You can ask about Buddhism or discuss a concern in your own life. Social, economic, and political issues are welcome too, as are questions about my videos, someone else’s YouTube broadcasts, or books. We can start with a question or choose a subject and explore it together.
While waiting for questions, I will share something that occurred to me when I met friends yesterday. In everyday conversation and thought, do we look back at what has come into our heads before saying it aloud? Do we pause to consider, “Is that really so?” In my experience, people generally do not go through that process very well. A thought appears, and they immediately regard it as their opinion and say it.
Can I reconsider what I say, the thoughts that arise in my head, the emotions I feel, and the things I do?
Talking About AI With High School Friends
The people I met yesterday were two high school friends. They are the only high school friends I still see; I hardly meet the others. We spent time together when I was preparing to retake the university entrance examination after failing to get in on my first attempt. I studied alone during the first semester, then heard good things about subject-specific cram schools and attended some classes in the second semester. That was when we hung out together. It was also the year the Lotte baseball team won the championship.
After that, we did not see one another for more than a decade—perhaps fifteen years. Eventually we reconnected, and now meet once or twice a year. This time it had been about a year. I do not particularly like drinking, but surely I can join friends for a little when we meet only once a year. We sat together for a couple of hours, had a drink, and caught up.
AI came up in the conversation. I have plenty to say about it. I said that AI would come to perform work such as medical diagnosis and surgery. One friend responded, “However good AI becomes at diagnosis, it will be a doctor who makes the final judgment and decision.”
That is a very familiar statement: however capable AI becomes, a human must ultimately decide. Hearing it, I offered an example. I wanted us to consider whether that statement really holds in every situation.
What If the Doctor Cannot See It, but AI Can?
Suppose AI examines someone’s brain MRI and identifies early-stage dementia. Let us also suppose that other experiments have established that this AI correctly identifies early dementia about 90 percent of the time. Yet the human doctor cannot tell whether the image indicates dementia, however closely they look. At a very early stage, even a questionnaire might not help much if the patient can barely notice any change.
What should the doctor do? Let us accept my friend’s premise that the doctor makes the final judgment. AI has examined the brain images and other information and concluded that this is early dementia. Its ability to get such judgments right has also been established. But the doctor cannot see the reason in the images. What would you do if you were that doctor?
Early detection matters for many illnesses. Whether cancer or another disease, detecting it early can improve the chances of slowing its progression or symptoms, improving the condition, or treating it. In that context, a patient undergoes a general checkup including brain imaging, and AI says, “This person has early-stage dementia.” It would be one thing if the doctor could understand the explanation, but suppose they cannot. They cannot judge it themselves, however hard they look. Does that mean they can simply discard AI’s judgment?
I put this question to my friend: “You said a human must make the final judgment, however good AI is. Then can you make that judgment in this case?” It is easy to say that the doctor decides. But once we ask what decision the doctor can make, and on what grounds, the problem changes. Will they follow AI’s judgment or not? Will they exclude it merely because a human cannot understand it?
Must humans always judge alongside AI when it makes a judgment? Or will some things pass to AI?
Should AI Be the Judge and the Lawyer Too?
This question does not apply only to doctors. It will apply across society. How far should human decision-making extend, and where should AI’s begin? We sometimes say that we would rather have AI perform the roles of judges and lawyers. AI is already gradually being used in various areas, such as strike calls in baseball and offside decisions in soccer.
Suppose, then, that AI takes on the role of a judge or lawyer. Must a human still always make the final decision? There is a reason we say we would like AI to take on these roles. We have seen judges make many wrong decisions. We see judgments swayed by personal views, inclinations, or self-interest.
The standards applied by judges and prosecutors should be impartial, and a major problem is that this is not reliably upheld. What if someone takes money under the table, yields to a prosecutor’s intimidation, or decides a case according to their politics or personal connections? We start thinking that AI, at least, would not behave like that for its own benefit. The hope is that we would not have to watch that disgraceful spectacle.
Then should we entrust everything to AI? What should we do if AI is much better? I am not trying to offer a single definitive answer here. Before saying “humans must do it” or “AI must do it,” I want us to ask under what conditions the statement holds. Many people do not question what comes out of their own mouths in this way.
What If Proofs Arrive Faster Than Mathematicians Can Check Them?
A recent development in mathematics also prompted this kind of reflection. The news I discussed concerned an internally tested OpenAI model that was given roughly a thousand difficult mathematical problems and publicly released results for more than three hundred of them at once. This concerned an internal test model for the next version, rather than the current 6.0 Astra. Mathematicians would then examine whether the published answers and proofs were actually correct.
Let us extend that into a hypothetical situation. What if AI produced a hundred solutions every day to problems that had remained unsolved for a century, or problems approaching the difficulty of the Millennium Prize Problems? Could the world’s mathematicians keep pace? AI says, “This problem can be solved this way,” and produces proofs, but there are too many, and they are too complex and difficult.
We can say that humans must determine whether the proofs are correct. But suppose all the world’s mathematicians divide the problems among themselves and still need a month to check one proof. Meanwhile, AI produces a hundred or a thousand new proofs a day. What happens then? Can humans always follow through and check them all? Even if a method of verification becomes available, would the difference in speed not change what that means?
I am smiling as I say this, but it is a problem our society will face. Which parts should humans handle, and which should AI handle? How far will our judgment and responsibility extend? We need to ask whether the familiar sentence “In the end, a human always decides” is enough to settle it.
Before Closing the Question With “Don’t Talk Nonsense”
My friend reacted to the example with something like, “Don’t talk nonsense. Why wouldn’t the doctor be able to recognize it?” But they might not be able to, might they? Do you think humans will always understand every answer AI produces? What should we do if humans cannot understand an answer but it is highly likely to be correct? Problems like this may keep arising.
I have brought up this small part of our conversation because an information gap was not the only thing I noticed that day. Society is changing rapidly, and information gaps grow within that change. I have followed AI news consistently, so I try to understand the trajectory and think about the present and the future together. My friends may have encountered less information on those matters.
But they still have opinions about AI. The issue is how deeply they have thought before arriving at those opinions. That was what particularly struck me. Opinions arise even when information is limited. Then, when someone presents a different condition or a counterexample, shouldn’t we be able to think again?
You might ask whether friends really need to think so deeply about every remark over drinks. But let that habit accumulate over days, years, ten years, or twenty years, and it makes a great difference. One person develops the habit of questioning what they hear and think; another becomes accustomed to blurting out whatever comes to mind. I believe the difference becomes enormous with time.
Is that really so? Think a little more deeply about what would happen under different conditions. Look for a little more information.
Buddhism Means Reconsidering Your Own Judgments
Do you reconsider your decisions, judgments, feelings, and thoughts in everyday life? To reconsider is to think again: to ask whether something is really so, consider different conditions, and look for more information when needed. Such thinking is enormously helpful in practicing Buddhism. In fact, I say that doing this is Buddhism.
We must examine our emotions, feelings, judgments, thoughts, and concepts deeply. Someone who has made that attitude a habit over one, five, ten, or twenty years will inevitably differ from someone who has spent those years saying whatever comes to mind without that process. How many people insist that something is true without even knowing whether it is?
The point is not merely to regard other people’s words critically. Apply the same questions to your own words, the thoughts in your head, the emotions you feel, and the actions you take. This too is a habit. When a thought arises, ask, “Why did that occur to me? Is it right? Is it actually true? Could I think about it again?”
Respecting a Frugal Life Is Different From Believing Its Owner’s Words
I have noticed the same problem recently while watching monks’ videos. I have strongly criticized the monk Mungwang as a sham monk and a fraud for saying that reincarnation is science. In my view, he says that because he does not understand what science is. He does not even know what the words he utters mean.
This time I also watched several videos of Venerable Cheonghwa. Cheonghwa is known as someone who practiced diligently and lived a clean, frugal life appropriate to a monk. Many people respect that life. Such a life and attitude can deserve respect. In fact, they are also basic expectations of a monk. Yet people who meet even those basic standards are so rare that merely doing so earns admiration.
I am not trying to deny the value of that life. Cheonghwa does not look like the kind of fraud I consider Mungwang to be. He lived a good life and was widely respected. But listening to what he said in his videos, I found him speaking with great confidence about many things he did not know, without even knowing that he did not know them.
These included statements about karma, the existence of reincarnation, and ghosts, guardian spirits, heavenly beings, and angels monitoring our conduct. The videos I watched included the claims “You take reincarnation too lightly” and “Ghosts, guardian spirits, heavenly beings, and angels watch our actions.” Some featured only his voice; others showed him speaking into a microphone before an audience. There is a roughly nine-minute video you can find by searching for Cheonghwa, and you can watch it yourselves.
Just because words come out of your mouth does not make them meaningful speech.
Even If You Saw Something, How Do You Know It Was a Ghost?
Cheonghwa is well known for Buddha-recitation Seon. He speaks of Avalokiteshvara and Amitabha, and says that ghosts, guardian spirits, heavenly beings, and angels monitor our words and actions. Reincarnation exists, and every action you take is being watched—that is the kind of claim. From such statements, I judge that Buddhist practice has not been accomplished at all.
Many people will dislike hearing that. “How can you say he did not practice?” they will ask. That is why I want to ask again: what is Buddhist practice? What is it for? I say it is cultivating wisdom that helps us in our present lives. Wisdom requires constant reconsideration. We must question, observe, reflect, and critically think again.
If we are talking about ghosts, we must ask, “Did Cheonghwa see a ghost?” If he says he did, we must ask again: “How do you know whether what you saw was a ghost? What is a ghost?” Saying that you saw something and deciding that it was a ghost are not matters we can simply glide past.
The same goes for heavenly beings. What is a heavenly being? Do you know one exists? Have you seen one? If so, how do you know that is what you saw? And angels? What do you call an angel? Where are they? How do they monitor you? If you have seen an angel, was it really an angel? We need to be able to ask such questions.
Instead, words emerge without questions. Whether someone heard them from an elder monk or another monk, read them in a book, or found them in scripture, they repeat them without criticism, thought, or inquiry. That is what a parrot does. In this respect, I call Cheonghwa a parrot. Being a respected person does not substitute for the questions those claims require.
Wisdom comes from questioning, observation, and reflection.
We Must Be Able to Say We Do Not Know
Suppose someone speaks of Avalokiteshvara, Amitabha, ghosts, heavenly beings, or angels simply because they appear in a book. They say, “Reincarnation exists. You take it too lightly.” Have they thought deeply, questioned, and observed? Words that have not passed through that process carry no weight. There is no wisdom to be found in them. Can someone who keeps making such statements be described as having practiced Buddhism?
What does practicing Buddhism mean? We must say we do not know what we do not know. If we have not thought deeply about something, we should say, “I have not yet thought about it deeply.” Thinking something is likely to be so is different from its being so. Suppose you read in a scripture that heavenly beings exist. Asked, “Do they really exist?” you should be able to answer, “That is what the scripture says, but I do not know.”
Or you can think and investigate more deeply, as I do, and say that these are human-made concepts and that reincarnation, heavenly beings, and ghosts do not exist. That is what I say. Instead, I see words pouring out like a parrot’s from the mouths of people respected as practitioners, even though their own thinking lacks depth. I find it profoundly regrettable.
I have repeatedly said that people I have strongly criticized, such as Mungwang and Jinje, should have their monastic registration stripped away. Jinje, whom I criticize for falsely claiming awakening, was the Jogye Order’s former supreme patriarch. I believe Mungwang should be removed from the register too. He says reincarnation is science and goes around selling all kinds of superstition—fortune-telling, geomancy—while wearing monastic robes. That shows the present state of the Jogye Order in Korea. They do not even know what the problem is.
My thinking that something is probably so is different from its being so.
Admirable Conduct Does Not Guarantee Wisdom
If someone says, “Karma is terrible,” we should first ask, “What is karma?” I know that criticism like this does not help my site. People intensely dislike seeing someone criticized. In Korea, criticism itself is often disliked. But criticism is necessary if we are to practice Buddhism properly.
We must criticize our own thoughts, other people’s words, and what is written in books. We must ask, “Am I right? Is that statement in the book actually true?” Yet the questions disappear, and someone who merely tells us to believe is called a great monk. What makes that person a great monk?
If someone’s conduct and life are modest, if they help poor people and do good things, they can deserve respect. I do not deny it. But practicing Buddhism and being wise also need to be considered in their own right. There may be times when a necessary lie can be told, but pouring out claims one does not know before an audience, borrowing the force of authority, is another matter.
People repeat what they have read and heard like parrots without ever thinking critically about it. Although Cheonghwa has already died, that is why I have criticized him today. Someone who continually examines what arises in their conduct, thinking, and emotions differs from someone who lives without even knowing that such examination is needed. If you say you have practiced for twenty or thirty years, we must ask what you have practiced.
Does Wisdom Automatically Follow Years of Recitation?
Will reciting Amitabha for ten years do it? Will reciting Avalokiteshvara for ten years do it? How does wisdom arise? Recite Avalokiteshvara for ten years and it is still back to square one; recite Amitabha for ten years and it is back to square one too—the Korean expression is literally “back to Amitabha.” Concentration practice stops at concentration. I say that wisdom does not arise from concentration. Whether you practice Buddha-recitation Seon for ten years or a hundred, that alone does not produce wisdom.
What happens if we do not think deeply about whether a statement is right, where our concepts came from, or what a sentence in a book means? Without critical thought, observation, and questions, people chatter like parrots. That is what people are like. I am human too, so I am no different. I am not placing myself outside the problem.
That is why we need to recognize, “I can be wrong. I must say I do not know what I do not know.” Yet we speak as if we know everything, committing wrongs without even knowing they are wrongs. Of course you might ask whether we should call it wrongdoing when most people in the world live that way. In any case, if encountering Buddhism enables us to think deeply about this within ourselves, we have moved a step closer to Buddhism.
I can be wrong. I must say I do not know what I do not know.
Do Not Close Off Questions When Someone Challenges You
At this point I waited to see whether there were other views or questions. Some people may have said hello and left because they were busy; others may have been watching quietly. I appreciate even your joining to greet me. As autumn turns toward winter, I hope you take care of your health. My mother had a flu vaccination yesterday and has been feeling unwell all day today. She is elderly, so even that seems difficult for her to bear.
My reason for telling the story about my friends and criticizing a monk’s statements is the same. If you live without considering the need to revisit your own thinking, you may never try doing it. Many people affiliated with Buddhism or philosophy, people presented as intellectuals, and politicians too, speak without thinking deeply about what their own words mean.
If someone challenges what you say or expresses a different view, reconsider it at least once. Do not stop at “I am right and that person is wrong.” You should be able to ask, “What follows if we think that way? What about this situation? Is it really true? Why am I feeling this emotion?”
“My Emotions Are Too Fast for Me to Think”
Liquid offered a question: “Sometimes my emotions are so fast that I do not have time to think.” Yes. But thoughts are fast too, not just emotions. Depression, anger, excitement, fear, rage, or jealousy can suddenly arise. We live amid a whirlwind of emotions. What came first, before the emotion arose?
It passes so quickly that it is hard to notice, but I say that thought precedes it. Emotion does not suddenly change without thought. A judgment occurs, and emotion changes accordingly. Then you might ask how to filter thoughts within thinking itself. My answer is to think of it as processing afterward. I do not know whether this is the definitive answer. It is simply what I do.
I call myself an arahant, but I do not claim to control my head however I wish. I do not even claim to control my emotions. Then how am I different from an ordinary person? In that respect, I am the same. Various thoughts spring up in my head in an instant, and my emotions change with them.
But when an emotion arises, I ask, “Why did I feel this? What judgment did I make?” You just need to have a counterpunch ready. Look back at which thoughts and judgments produced this emotion. Understand the brain, and take a step back to observe that these judgments are happening in your head.
I call myself an arahant, but I do not say that I can control my head or my emotions.
A Counterpunch Directed at Your Own Thoughts
Thought precedes a change in emotion. It may have flashed by so quickly that you missed it. But if you suddenly became angry, some judgment occurred in your head. The same applies to sadness or jealousy. When a feeling appears, look back and ask, “Why did this feeling arise? What was I thinking? What standard produced this result?”
My friend’s statement connects to this. “However capable AI is, a human doctor must ultimately say whether someone has cancer or dementia, and whether treatment is needed.” Suppose that thought occurs to you: human dignity means we cannot entrust diagnosis to AI, and doctors will always be necessary. Before tossing the thought straight out of your mouth, ask, “Is that really so?”
AI gets the answer right 90 percent of the time, but I do not know why the answer is right or why it produced that answer. Should I follow it or not? In what respect is a human doctor necessary in that situation? Such questions are counterpunches to your own thinking. Just as you think in order to challenge someone else’s words, you should be able to think again about what has arisen in your own head.
You need to observe the thoughts and emotions occurring within you. Carry the question, “Why did that thought arise?” If you are simply vacant, you get swept along by whatever occurs to you. Look back at the standards behind your emotions and thoughts, how you acted, and what thought passed through before this emotion emerged.
Practice Matters More Than an Impatient Temperament
Liquid also mentioned being impatient. I am very impatient too. But this is a separate matter from temperament. It is training and habit. When you first ride a bicycle, it is difficult. With practice, you ride quite comfortably. You can practice reflecting on your thoughts and emotions until that too becomes natural.
At first, you may not reconsider something you became angry about during the day until that evening. I used to smoke. You might lose your temper, go outside for a cigarette, and only after calming down a little ask, “Why did I get angry?” You can begin with that kind of delayed reflection.
It is better if you can reflect sooner. When anger arises, it would be good to ask before immediately expressing it, “Why am I angry? Is it right to express anger here? Is this a situation that calls for it? Is it necessary? Am I actually right?” But I am not saying that you must achieve that 100 percent of the time.
Do not demand 100 percent from yourself. Do not demand perfection. A Buddha is not a Buddha because they are perfect. The question is whether you can respond wisely in everyday life, whether you live in delusion, and whether you respond a little more wisely. Reexamine your conduct, thoughts, judgments, emotions, and feelings, and ask, “Is that actually true?” There is no Buddhism without questions.
A Buddha is not a Buddha because they are a perfect person.
Hope and Despair Also Change With Judgment
Emotions flash past like lightning. But the judgment preceding the emotion must have been even faster. The thought “How could they treat me like this?” arises, and you feel offended and angry. A judgment also lies behind sudden sadness, jealousy, or an aching heart.
Suppose you are in despair, discover something, and suddenly overflow with hope. I used to experience that often. Someone who was in despair a moment ago suddenly lives full of hope. Before that change came an assessment of the situation and an internal standard. One assessment produced despair; a different assessment brought hope.
That does not mean you should try to stop every judgment before it arises and become someone who is never shaken by anything. Do not long for such a state under a name like samadhi throughout everyday life. Human beings do not work that way. My head responds naturally. We need to understand that fact.
Like an Old Song Bringing Back Memories
Liquid, consider this example. You hear music—a song you listened to often in your twenties. Suddenly the time and place, your companions, the people beside you, and even the atmosphere return vividly and wistfully to mind. I have songs like that too.
There are Korean songs I heard on high school trips, songs I played often, and Lee Moon-sae songs that moved me. There are also the Evangelion theme and “Fly Me to the Moon,” which my younger sibling liked when I was at university. Hearing such songs suddenly brings back the circumstances and thoughts of those days.
This is arising through conditions. Whether I want it or not, independently of my intention, my brain produces a result when a stimulus arrives. Memories, circumstances, and combinations of thoughts mingle and produce a response. We are that kind of apparatus. We need to understand that we are.
If you must remain unmoved by music, by something sad, and even by something that gives reason for anger, isn’t that a demand to become a stone? There is no need. A sad thought or wistful memory can arise. You can see a wonderful scene and feel that it is wonderful. You do not need to reject all of that.
Telling someone to remain unmoved by music, sadness, and even occasions for anger is telling them to become a stone.
What the Brain Produces Is Not Automatically the Right Answer
Some things, however, call for questions. “Why did I judge it that way? Why does this feeling arise? Why does that Coca-Cola look delicious? Why does that actor look beautiful? What emotion, feeling, thought, or judgment am I having? How does my brain work?” Then you can see, “My brain has operated that way again.”
My head makes judgments, guesses, and instant decisions. That does not mean it produces correct answers. It does not mean it states facts. Consider people who, without knowing for themselves, repeat what they read: “Reincarnation exists,” “There are angels,” “Heavenly beings are watching you,” or “Karma is stern.” They have never thought critically about these things, yet repeat them like parrots. Left alone, our brains operate that way.
We hear that being rich is good and want to become rich. But why do we want wealth? Why is being rich good? What does beautiful really mean, and what does dirty mean? Rather than questioning each thing as if going through adolescence, we accept what we hear, like a child accepting a parent’s words as truth. As I often say, we are simply elementary school children. I call myself an elementary school child who knows he is one.
If we often hear that a car is luxurious, we think it really is a good car and want it. Why did that thought arise? Must we go along without a question merely because that is how the brain works? Here lies the difference between following whatever occurs to us into delusion and fantasy, and observing ourselves, questioning, and reflecting.
Practice Can Begin Even When Reflection Comes an Hour Later
It is all right whether reconsideration comes one second later, half a second later, a minute later, or an hour later. Of course speed sometimes makes a large difference. Apologizing after you have already expressed anger is different from noticing the judgment and stopping before expressing it. If awareness comes sooner, you can stop before acting.
But the central issue is whether critical thinking becomes ingrained. When you feel down, ask why; when jealousy appears, ask why and what judgment was involved. Practice that habit consistently, as you would riding a bicycle. Whether a day later or a month later, when an event comes to mind, you can ask, “Why did I do that then?”
Some people can look back and consider whether the words they uttered and the conclusions that appeared in their heads are actually true; others cannot. I call doing this Buddhism. It is practice. Once it becomes a habit and an attitude toward life, you inevitably differ from someone who has never tried it, just as a person who rides a bicycle differs from someone who has never ridden one.
Are the words I utter and the conclusions in my head actually true? Looking back and considering that is Buddhism.
A Person’s Conduct and Their Book Also Deserve Separate Examination
I do not know how fully I have answered Liquid’s question. Try making the effort yourself. It is a very valuable thing. Your question near the end also made this an enjoyable conversation for me.
As I was about to finish, Namyangmiru commented that they had enjoyed Jahyeon’s book Buddha’s Lessons on Emotion and thought it was an outstanding work. I do not know the book’s contents. Someone might speak like a complete mess on YouTube and still write a good book. A person who blurts out anything may nevertheless write well. People’s conduct does not necessarily match their books, but the book itself may still be good.
Thank you for participating, asking questions, and talking with me today. You have made this an enjoyable time. May you attain Buddhahood, and have a good weekend. I will see you next Monday.
This article was edited by AI solely from the supplied video captions and description. No external sources were used.