Does craving always lead to suffering?

Are Buddhism's Four Noble Truths True?

Like all major religions and philosophies, Buddhism is a rich tapestry of interweaving traditions and schools of thought. Sometimes these threads come apart, fraying over a particular doctrinal dispute. Mostly they share, however, a general perspective on questions of metaphysics and ontology (roughly, what reality is), and ethics (how to live well).

The reason for this is that the first and most fundamental Buddhist teaching addresses metaphysics and ethics at the same time. That teaching is known as the Four Noble Truths.

According to legend, the Four Noble Truths came to the Buddha as he meditated beneath a fig tree in India some 2500 years ago. Indeed, Buddhists hold that it was with this very moment of intellectual inspiration that Siddartha Gautama became the Buddha (an honorific title that literally means 'enlightened one’).

So what are these Four Noble Truths – and just how true are they?

Truth and language

Before we turn to the Four Noble Truths themselves, a brief caveat is required. Whenever we translate any historical text into modern English we are confronted with an interpretative double-challenge. 

Firstly, there’s the temporal gap: do we understand the original Pali words in the same way as Pali speakers understood them in 500 BCE? Or has a crucial layer of meaning been lost to time, along with the culture that language formed a part of? 

Secondly, there’s the linguistic gap: do equivalent words exist in English to capture the original Pali meaning (assuming we have understood the latter)? Or is translating Pali into English like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole?

I raise this issue because how we choose to translate certain Pali terms affects the tone or ‘feel’ of the Buddha’s message – just as how we translate key terms from Plato, Confucius or the Talmud can subtly change their meanings. 

An important example in what follows is the Pali word taṇhā, which could be rendered ‘attachment’, ‘desire’, or – as I’ve opted for – ‘craving’. Each would give the below a subtly different flavour.

With the requisite care in mind, let’s now look at (one translation of) the Four Noble Truths:

1. Existence is typically characterised by suffering

2. The cause of suffering is craving 

3. Suffering can be ended by letting go of craving

4. Letting go of craving can be achieved by following the Eightfold Path

Millions of people across the world have found the Buddha’s first and most fundamental teaching to be an indispensable guide to life. It is, undoubtedly, a beautifully presented and profound set of ideas. 

But are they, in fact, true?

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction

I won’t focus here on the Eightfold Path, which contains some very good practical ethical guidance. What I want to focus on are the first and second truths, which together suggest that our lives are typically characterised by suffering because we are so prone to craving things.

The basic idea at work here is that, by their very nature, the mind and body are never satisfied. 

Think of how often the things we obtain simply have to be obtained over and over again. Bodily pleasures tend to fall into this category. For example, if I want a drink of water it quenches my thirst for a while, but never for very long. A few hours later I find myself thirsty again, and in need of another drink. This one too only quenches my thirst for a little while, and once again I soon find myself thirsty. And on goes the cycle of craving and all-too-brief satisfaction.

Then there are the desires that actually expand as soon as we acquire what we thought we wanted. These tend to be more social and psychological than bodily. For instance, perhaps I want a pay rise at work, partly because I believe I deserve it, and partly because I think I’ll be able to buy the things I really want with the extra income. 

However, when I get the pay rise I find, before too long, that I’m not satisfied after all. The things I thought I wanted aren’t enough for me – I need bigger and better things and more of them – and equally, I begin to see myself as deserving of a higher salary still. So I ask for another raise, which soon proves insufficient as well, and on and on the cycle goes.

Nietzsche vs. the Buddha 

The upshot of our perpetual cravings, according to the Buddha, is that we suffer continual dissatisfaction, and needlessly so. If only I could let go of my cravings, adopting a calmer and more appreciative attitude toward the world, then my life would be a happier one indeed – or so the Buddha suggests.

I suspect I’m not the only person who thinks there’s something right about this vision – at the very same time as worrying that it could, in some respects, lead to a life less well lived.

To see why, allow me to refer to a previous article of mine on the idea of triumphing through adversity. There I looked at the view, roughly shared by Friedrich Nietzsche and Teddy Roosevelt, that a life involving the attempt of challenges and difficulties is most conducive to self-improvement.

The Buddha’s view is, if not exactly the opposite to this, then certainly at odds with it. While the Buddha didn’t advocate asceticism – a point that is clear from the Eightfold Path – his approach definitely tends toward a quietism that Nietzsche and Roosevelt would have deplored. For if we try to let go of our cravings, renouncing an attachment to worldly goods and status, then how will we achieve anything? Who would our great artists, intellectuals, and statesmen be? 

At face value, then, it seems there’s a case to be made for both points of view. So who’s right: Nietzsche and Roosevelt, or the Buddha?

The middle-middle way

Instead of either the Buddha or Nietzsche being entirely correct, I wonder if, in fact, both contain a degree of truth. This might sound like a perfect example of trying to philosophically have one’s cake and eat it too, but hear me out.

The Buddha’s perspective seems correct about the things in life that either we can’t change, or that ultimately don’t matter that much. To give an example of the latter, if a three-bedroom house meets my family’s needs perfectly well, then why do I crave a four- or five-bedroom house instead? Is there any real justification for my craving, or is it just internalised consumerism at work? The Buddha would encourage us to let go of such unnecessary cravings and instead appreciate what we have – and here I think he’d be right.

Equally, there are natural and unavoidable forces that it seems strange to fight. Why, for instance, should I shrink from the entirely predictable and harmless development that is reaching middle age – getting wrinkles, grey hairs, and the like? While middle age can bring illnesses and conditions with it that I certainly don’t want, the mere fact of visibly reaching that point is not something to dread – just a fact of life to work with. Letting go of any anxiety about it, as the Buddha would counsel, seems the soundest response.

Perhaps Nietzsche and Roosevelt are right, though, to say that some things that matter are worth craving, because they’re difficult to achieve. Self-expression through the arts, learning a trade or professional skillset, achieving physical fitness, and even running for public office – all require a disciplined pursuit of a goal that certainly runs the risk of suffering in the manner the Buddha describes. If nobody pursued these things, though, we would all be worse off – both individually and collectively.

Perhaps, then, there’s a balance to be struck between the two approaches: the Buddha being right that plenty of life’s causes of woe are down to unnecessary craving, but Nietzsche and Roosevelt correctly identifying that sometimes the suffering is the price we ought to pay for craving meaningful achievements. 

The irony here is that the Buddha called his own ethic the Middle Way, falling as it does between asceticism and outright indulgence. If I’m right that it leans toward quietism, however, then perhaps a middle way between the Buddha’s own Middle Way and the Nietzsche-Roosevelt view is needed. 

Call it a middle-middle way – one that perhaps combines the best of both philosophies of life.