PDF Summary:Why Buddhism Is True, by Robert Wright

In Why Buddhism Is True, Robert Wright draws on his experience as both a science journalist and meditator to show that modern evolutionary science supports Buddhism's core insights about the human condition.

Wright explains how evolution shaped us to be chronically dissatisfied, how this leads us to misperceive reality, and how mindfulness meditation offers a solution. While acknowledging meditation's benefits for individuals—like increased happiness and clearer thinking—Wright argues that it can have an even bigger impact: Widespread adoption of mindfulness could help humanity address global challenges.

In our guide, we’ll explore Wright’s ideas in greater depth. In our commentary, we’ll compare and contrast Wright’s views with related perspectives, including physicist Carlo Rovelli’s quantum angle on Buddhist theory and Culadasa’s views on the intersection of morality and Buddhist practice.

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Buddhists, Wright says, take this interconnectedness to mean that any seemingly distinct form (a tree, a house, a self) is "empty" of inherent existence. Since nothing can stand on its own, no “thing” is really there. So in thinking that the world around us is made up of distinct things, we see unclearly. The world of “things” isn’t really there.

(Shortform note: Wright's ideas about emptiness parallel systems thinking—an approach that examines how parts of a whole interact rather than studying them in isolation. In The Web of Life, Fritjof Capra argues that modern science no longer sees the world as a machine made of separate parts, but as a complex network of interrelated phenomena. Like in Wright's tree example, systems thinking holds that any seemingly independent entity exists only through its web of connections. Some systems thinkers, like Carlo Rovelli (The Order of Time), say this suggests that reality isn’t made of “things” at all, but of dynamic patterns and processes. In this view, a tree isn’t a thing but an ongoing process of nutrients flowing, cells dividing, and energy being exchanged with its environment.)

The Scientific Support: The Self and the World Aren’t as They Seem

According to Wright, there’s ample scientific support for these ancient, counterintuitive claims. Work from psychology, cognitive science, and philosophy help explain how they’re true.

Our Selves Aren’t as They Seem

First, Wright argues that the principle of no-self dovetails neatly with the modular theory of mind, an idea in cognitive science that’s become influential in recent decades. It holds that our thoughts and behaviors arise from the activity of various mental “modules,” or interconnected groups of brain areas that work together. Each module has its own agenda, such as courting mates or finding food, and they constantly compete for control of our actions. In this view, our thoughts arise spontaneously, driven by feeling—we don’t consciously choose them.

Think about the last time you tried to resist a temptation, like a basket of french fries. It can feel like there are two "yous" in conflict—one wants the fries, and the other wants to avoid unhealthy food. This internal tug-of-war makes more sense if you think of yourself not as a single cohesive “self,” but rather as a collection of competing impulses and desires.

(Shortform note: Wright’s explanation of modules isn’t the only theory that describes the mind as made up of distinct parts. Internal Family Systems (IFS), for instance, is a therapeutic approach that views the psyche as a multiplicity of “parts” that interact like family members. IFS views these inner parts as an adaptable system, and the point of IFS therapy is to “heal” wounded parts in order to harmonize your inner life. In contrast to the modular view, then, IFS might view the two “yous” playing tug-of-war over french fries as parts in conflict—and in need of positive attention—rather than competing evolutionary impulses.)

According to Wright, modular mind theorists also say that we’re mistaken in thinking that we’re consciously in charge of our thinking, feeling, and acting. In the modular view, your conscious self is less of a chief and more of a mediator. It “hears” the arguments from different parts of you, but it doesn’t make the decision in the end.

So why have consciousness at all, then? Wright says the leading hypothesis is that consciousness functions as a sort of spokesperson for your multiple inner modules. Evolutionarily, it would’ve been useful to present a coherent self to the world—if you seemed consistent and reliable, you’d have been more socially accepted. You therefore would’ve had better chances of surviving and reproducing. Consciousness helps you do this by rationalizing your decisions, regardless of what module wins, and making it feel like you’re one coherent self. Believing that, you can then present a consistent character to the world.

(Shortform note: Daniel Dennett’s "multiple drafts" theory in Consciousness Explained suggests a different explanation for why we have consciousness. Dennett argues consciousness evolved as a mental workspace where multiple "drafts" of potential thoughts and actions compete and get revised—like an internal theater for testing scenarios before acting. This suggests consciousness might be less about maintaining social appearances, as Wright emphasizes, and more about creating a flexible platform for simulating choices to better navigate life. Both views agree consciousness isn't really "in charge," but they differ on whether its main job is social presentation or mental rehearsal.)

For Wright, these scientific theories validate the principle of no-self. Like Buddhism, they say that our selves are far less concrete, permanent, or under control than we think. And where Buddhism doesn’t provide rigorous, empirical evidence, science does.

The World Isn’t as it Seems

Next, Wright explains that the idea of emptiness squares well with modern understandings of perception. He writes that today, scientists say that perception isn’t passive but active—that our brains construct the world we experience at least as much as we receive it.

Put another way, we all project our preconceived thoughts and feelings—the stories we tell ourselves about how things are—onto the world. Here’s how this works in the brain: When you come across something, like a dog, one brain region (the thalamus) receives sensory data (like the dog’s appearance and the sound of its bark). Another brain region (the medial orbitofrontal cortex or mOFC) combines those data with your preconceived stories about that thing. Together, they form your perception of the dog, but your preconceptions take priority. For instance, if you love dogs, you’ll be inclined to enjoy their presence. Meanwhile, your friend who was attacked by one would find their presence threatening.

(Shortform note: The brain’s habit of projecting our preconceptions is part of an even larger neurological system. Another part of it is the reticular activating system, a brain structure present in all vertebrates that filters sensory information so you perceive what’s most relevant—or meaningful—to your interests. The fact that it isn’t unique to humans suggests that neither are projection or meaning-making. From single-celled organisms responding to chemical gradients to insects recognizing flower patterns, life forms evolved to perceive what's relevant to their survival rather than perceiving reality "as it is." So our habit of projecting meaning onto experience isn't just psychological—it's been built deeply into our brains by evolution.)

Because of our tendency to project our preconceived notions and feelings onto the world, everybody experiences things slightly differently. And it’s not just strong thoughts and feelings that shape our perception. According to Wright, we all have tons of subtle preconceptions and project them throughout our lives. Dogs, pens, cars, potholes, snow—each is paired with subtle thoughts and feelings that shape how we experience and relate to it.

The takeaway is that like Buddhism, science says that none of us see the world as it really is. Because our projection happens beneath the level of our awareness, we believe our perceptions represent the world as it really is. But the world as we see it isn’t really there.

(Shortform note: Wright's point about projection extends even to contexts where we think we're being purely objective. As Thomas Kuhn argues in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, scientists observe the world through theoretical "paradigms" that shape what they notice and how they interpret it. For instance, before the Copernican revolution, astronomers invented elaborate mathematical models with circles within circles to explain planetary motion because they were unconsciously projecting their assumption that Earth was the center of the universe. Once astronomers let go of this assumption, they could see a simpler explanation: The planets, including Earth, orbit the sun in ellipses.)

The Solution: Mindfulness Meditation

Up to this point, we've seen how Buddhism and modern science agree on some fundamental truths about human nature: We're caught in a cycle of dissatisfaction, and it’s largely because we don't see reality. Wright says that although science validates this belief, it doesn’t offer a solution. In contrast, Buddhism does: mindfulness meditation.

Mindfulness Can Improve Individual Lives

Wright explains that mindfulness meditation, a practice from the Vipassana tradition of Theravada Buddhism, involves observing your inner experience with greater objectivity.

While you can practice observing thoughts, feelings, and much more, Wright argues that it’s at the level of feeling that we most need to become mindful. This is because, as discussed above, feelings propel our thoughts and actions—not the other way around. Science supports the idea that we should become mindful of our feelings: For instance, research suggests that paying mindful attention to the feeling of the craving to smoke can be a more effective addiction treatment than medication or nicotine patches.

(Shortform note: While Wright emphasizes mindfulness of feelings, other evidence-based approaches suggest that working with thoughts is also important. Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) has proven particularly effective for smoking cessation by helping people identify and challenge the thoughts that maintain their addiction. For instance, CBT teaches smokers to examine beliefs like "smoking relieves my stress" or "I can't cope without cigarettes" and replace these with more accurate, constructive thoughts. Such cognitive work can complement mindfulness practice: While mindfulness helps people observe and sit with their cravings, CBT provides tools to actively restructure the thinking patterns that accompany those cravings.)

Each time you mindfully observe a feeling that would typically drive you to action, you create space between that impulse and your response to it. Over time, you learn to step back from your feelings—to watch them pass by from a newfound vantage point alongside your stream of consciousness. Having stepped out of that stream, you’re less likely to get swept away by its contents. For example, you’ll be less likely to give in to a compulsion to scroll through social media instead of staying focused, or a craving to binge another show rather than getting a good night’s sleep.

In this way, practicing mindfulness teaches you to respond, rather than react, to whatever comes along. And as Wright says, this has many benefits: It can help you change your habits, help you see your life more clearly, promote your happiness, and make you more moral. We’ll detail each of these benefits below.

(Shortform note: In Mindfulness in Plain English, Bhante Gunaratana explains why simply observing our minds creates freedom from reactivity. When we're caught up in our usual patterns, he explains, we tend to identify completely with our thoughts and feelings—they seem to be us, rather than experiences we're having. But when we observe them mindfully, we naturally start seeing them as passing events in our consciousness. Once we see thoughts and feelings as temporary experiences rather than parts of our identity, they lose their power to automatically drive our behavior. Thus, freedom from reactivity doesn't come from forcing yourself to resist impulses—rather, the very act of observing them weakens their grip.)

Mindfulness for Habit Change

According to Wright, mindfulness is an effective way to change your habits. He says that mental modules are like muscles—they strengthen in response to repetition or weaken in response to disuse. So, to change your habits, reinforce or deplete modules by simply applying the above practice (step back from, observe, and let pass the feelings that drive an urge). If you want to reinforce a habit, mindfully choose to do so. Likewise, you can mindfully choose not to reinforce unconstructive modules.

For instance, say you mindfully observe and let pass an urge to get angry at someone who insults you. By doing so, you’ll weaken your “anger module” by teaching it that anger isn’t rewarding. At the same time, you’ll strengthen your “self-improvement” module by practicing mindfulness and gaining the reward of releasing an unproductive impulse.

Wright says this approach works better than relying on willpower because resisting impulses doesn’t allow them to pass. And if you’re constantly straining against all sorts of habitual urges, you’ll tire and break before long.

Two Ways to Change Habits

Behavior scientist BJ Fogg offers another method for changing your habits—one that doesn’t involve mindfulness. He argues that successful behavior change requires three elements: motivation, ability, and a trigger. His key insight, explained in Tiny Habits, is that instead of trying to increase motivation or relying on willpower, we should make positive behaviors so small and well-triggered that they're almost impossible to fail.

For instance, rather than planning to meditate for 30 minutes, you might start with just one mindful breath after brushing your teeth. The idea is that over time, keeping up with that one little habit will encourage you to expand on it, so that eventually you’re meditating for 10 or even 30 minutes.

Like Wright, Fogg recommends circumventing willpower, saying that willpower changes throughout the day and is too unreliable to base an effective strategy on. To disrupt bad habits, he suggests intervening in one or more of the three elements of behavior: motivation, ability, or prompt. For instance, to stop a habit of scrolling social media first thing in the morning, you can intervene at the “ability” element by not bringing your phone into your room at night. With that little bit of friction, you can stop the habit in its tracks.

Fogg’s approach is different from Wright’s, yet they could complement each other. You might use Fogg's framework to design and establish tiny habits, while leaning on Wright's mindfulness-based approach to manage your inner impulses. Learning to rise early and hit the gym, then, could look like setting your alarm (the trigger), putting on your gym clothes (the tiny habit), and practicing mindfulness to weaken the mental module that wants to smash the snooze button.

Mindfulness for Clarity, Happiness, and Morality

Wright also contends that mindfulness practice has three key benefits—clarity, happiness, and morality—that reinforce one another. He suggests they interact like this:

• As you practice mindfully observing your inner world, you’ll gain distance from your impulses and reactions, giving you a clearer view of yourself and the world around you.
• As clarity builds, you’ll naturally feel happier and more at ease. Becoming less reactive and seeing things clearly tends to feel good and calming.
• Increased happiness and ease, in turn, motivate you to continue practicing. Seeing that the practice is rewarding, you’ll want to stick to it. And the more you practice, the more clearly you’ll see things.
• More surprising, Wright says, is that a clearer view and the calm it brings also tend to make you behave more morally. He explains that scientists don't quite know why this is, but expert meditators say it’s typically true.

And the virtuous cycle continues: Behaving morally makes us feel better about ourselves and our place in the world, which encourages more practice, which leads to even clearer perception, and so on. Wright sees this as a happy coincidence—a case where doing what's good for you as an individual also makes you better for the world.

Mindfulness, Personal Benefits, and Moral Growth

While Wright suggests that becoming calmer and more clear-minded through meditation naturally leads to more ethical behavior, forming a virtuous cycle, Culadasa suggests in The Mind Illuminated that this link isn't so automatic.

In Wright's view, morality emerges as a natural byproduct of simple mindfulness practice. He considers this more important than pursuing enlightenment—a state of complete freedom from suffering that’s typically the ultimate aim of Buddhist practice. Wright sees achieving enlightenment as an unrealistic goal for most individuals.

In contrast, Culadasa says that moral development requires conscious cultivation. He holds that practitioners become more moral through the study and realization of specific Buddhist insights, like no-self, as well as through meditation. Further, he says that enlightenment is the proper aim of Buddhist practice.

Which is true? Wright's view aligns with some research suggesting that meditation increases prosocial behavior. However, Buddhist tradition emphasizes the need for explicit ethical training alongside meditation practice. For instance, some practitioners commit to living by the 5 precepts, which include not stealing, lying, or killing. Both perspectives have merit: while meditation might create favorable conditions for moral development, ethical training can help to guide and stabilize the insights you gain in meditation.

Mindfulness Can Change Our Shared Future

Last, Wright contends that mindfulness meditation could help bring about a "metacognitive revolution." He believes this is necessary for humanity to overcome major global challenges, like war and climate change.

(Shortform note: Wright's choice of the phrase "metacognitive revolution" is telling. While "metacognition" simply refers to our ability to observe and understand our thought processes, his use of "revolution" frames meditation as something more transformative than just a personal practice. Revolutions are radical—for instance, both the Industrial and Digital Revolutions fundamentally changed how society operates. By using this phrasing, then, Wright suggests that widespread mindfulness practice could broadly reorganize society. Such a change would involve not just individual growth and maturation, but also the transformation of global society.)

By teaching us to observe our thoughts and feelings without getting caught up in them, mindfulness helps us see beyond our knee-jerk reactions, biases, and prejudices. Seeing things more clearly, we can then respond thoughtfully, rather than react impulsively, when involved in disagreements or conflicts along “tribal” lines.

For instance, imagine that a climate change activist and a climate change skeptic have a dialogue in which both practice being mindful of their reactionary feelings. In doing so, they could share their fears, desires, and motivations, and thereby have a productive exchange, rather than simply berating one another over their differences.

Wright acknowledges that mindfulness alone won’t fix everything, but he sees it as a necessary part of overcoming humanity’s major struggles and connecting the global human community. One individual, group, and network at a time, he says, people can become less reactive, more empathetic, and more aware of our interconnectedness. In time, the widespread adoption of mindfulness could help us tackle complex, hot-button global issues more skillfully, wisely, and compassionately.

Could Mindfulness Really Transform the World?

Wright's vision of mindfulness as a catalyst for social transformation echoes the views of influential thinkers like Thích Nhất Hạnh, who developed "engaged Buddhism" during the Vietnam War. Like Wright, Nhất Hạnh argues in books like Being Peace that mindfulness could overcome social conflicts by helping people recognize their shared humanity. Similarly, Tara Brach’s idea of radical acceptance (which we discussed earlier) could serve as a pathway to both personal and societal healing.

Some practices, like empathy circling, already use mindfulness to help handle social conflicts. In an empathy circle, participants practice deep listening and moment-to-moment awareness while reflecting back others' perspectives. These structured conversations create spaces where people can notice their reactive thoughts and emotions while genuinely hearing different viewpoints. The practice has been used to facilitate discussions between groups with opposing political views, such as pro-life and pro-choice groups.

However, the path from individual transformation to collective change may not be straightforward. Critics like Ronald Purser argue that an excessive focus on individual mindfulness can actually deflect attention from necessary structural reforms. In McMindfulness, he warns that by framing social problems as issues of personal awareness, we risk privatizing stress and responsibility while leaving the problems’ systemic causes unaddressed. This suggests that mindfulness might be better viewed as a complement to, rather than a replacement for, other forms of social action and institutional change.