Why I Am Not A Buddhist By Evan Thompson: A Shocking Rethink Of Mindfulness & Belief

Written by Evan Thompson, Why I Am Not a Buddhist is a 2020 book published by Yale University Press.

Evan Thompson is a philosopher and cognitive scientist whose work bridges Buddhist philosophy, cognitive science, neuroscience, and the study of consciousness. He co-authored the seminal book The Embodied Mind, which explores how Buddhist meditation and phenomenology can inform cognitive science. His deep engagement with Buddhist philosophy spans decades, including collaborations with figures like Francisco Varela and the Mind and Life Institute, which foster dialogue between the Dalai Lama, neuroscientists, and philosophers.

This book situates itself at the intersection of religion, philosophy, and science, exploring Buddhist modernism—a transnational movement that reframes Buddhism as a science of the mind and a rational alternative to religion. It critiques the popular Western narrative that Buddhism is uniquely scientific, empirical, or “spiritual but not religious.”

Thompson challenges this narrative with historical, philosophical, and cognitive insights, ultimately explaining why he does not identify as a Buddhist despite decades of engagement with its philosophy and practices.

Evan Thompson’s main argument is that he cannot call himself a Buddhist without subscribing to Buddhist modernism, which he finds philosophically flawed. He rejects Buddhist exceptionalism—the belief that Buddhism is uniquely rational, empirical, and superior to other religions—and critiques the rise of “neural Buddhism”, which reduces meditation and enlightenment to brain states. Instead, he advocates for cosmopolitanism, a worldview that values dialogue among cultures and intellectual traditions without the need to adopt religious labels.

In his words:

“Since I see no way for myself to be a Buddhist without being a Buddhist modernist, and Buddhist modernism is philosophically unsound, I see no way for myself to be a Buddhist without acting in bad faith. That is why I’m not a Buddhist.” (Thompson, 2020, Introduction)

This clear statement of purpose frames the entire book as a philosophical and personal exploration, rooted in decades of immersion in Buddhist thought, meditation practice, and cross-cultural scientific dialogue.

Background

To understand Why I Am Not a Buddhist, one must consider Evan Thompson’s personal journey and the historical backdrop of Buddhist modernism.

Personal Background:

Thompson grew up in an intellectual and spiritually experimental environment, the Lindisfarne Association, which exposed him to Zen and Tibetan Buddhism from childhood.
He studied Asian philosophy and Buddhist thought under scholars like Robert Thurman and collaborated with Francisco Varela, deepening his engagement with meditation, philosophy, and cognitive science.
Despite decades of study and practice, he felt alienated by North American dharma communities, which often displayed anti-intellectualism, sanctimoniousness, and fetishism around rituals and meditation.
He witnessed ethical failures in Buddhist communities, including sexual abuse scandals, which raised critical questions about power, patriarchy, and modern adaptations of Buddhism.

Historical Context – Buddhist Modernism and Exceptionalism:

Buddhist modernism emerged in the 19th and 20th centuries, as Asian reformers responded to Western colonialism and missionary pressure by reframing Buddhism as rational, empirical, and compatible with science.
This movement downplayed ritual and metaphysical elements (e.g., karma, rebirth, celestial Buddhas) and emphasized meditation and psychology.
Buddhist exceptionalism in the West perpetuates the idea that Buddhism is “not a religion but a mind science” and superior to Christianity or Islam because it aligns with neuroscience and secularism.
Thompson critiques this as historically naive and philosophically shallow, noting that every religion can be modernized or “sanitized” in this way.

In modern North America and Europe, this has produced what Thompson calls “Neural Buddhism”:

Meditation is reframed as brain training, and
Enlightenment is misinterpreted as a measurable neural state.

“Contrary to neural Buddhism, the status of the self, the value of meditation, and the meaning of ‘enlightenment’ aren’t matters that neuroscience can decide.” (Thompson, 2020, Introduction)

Summary of “Why I Am Not a Buddhist”

Chapter 1: The Myth of Buddhist Exceptionalism

Evan Thompson opens Why I Am Not a Buddhist by challenging the widespread narrative that Buddhism is uniquely rational, scientific, and superior to other religions—a concept he terms “Buddhist exceptionalism.” This belief, prevalent in both Western popular culture and transnational Buddhist circles, suggests that Buddhism transcends the pitfalls of organized religion, functioning instead as a mind science, therapeutic system, or pure philosophy of life rather than a traditional religion.

Thompson notes that titles like “Buddhist Biology” or “Why Buddhism Is True”—such as those by David Barash and Robert Wright—signal a cultural tendency to give Buddhism a credibility and curiosity that would be denied to similar claims by Christianity, Islam, or Hinduism.

He cites Adam Frank, an astrophysicist, who observed that in the “endless public wars between science and religion, Buddhism has mostly been given a pass” (Thompson, 2020). This preferential treatment reflects not just admiration but also modernist reinvention of the tradition.

The roots of Buddhist exceptionalism lie in Buddhist modernism, a historical movement emerging in the 19th and early 20th centuries in Sri Lanka, Burma, and Japan. Facing European colonialism and Christian missionary dominance, Buddhist reformers repackaged their traditions to align with Protestant and Enlightenment ideals. They downplayed ritual, myth, and cosmology, emphasizing personal meditative experience and rational inquiry, and presented the Buddha as a human teacher rather than a divine figure.

D.T. Suzuki’s reframing of Zen, heavily influenced by German Romanticism and American Transcendentalism, became a pivotal vector of this transnational modernist Buddhism.

Thompson critiques this narrative as historically selective and philosophically misleading. Every form of Buddhism, including “secular” Buddhism, is still deeply embedded in ritual, community, and soteriological aims (liberation from suffering or samsara). Even mindfulness retreats that claim to teach practitioners to “see things as they really are” actually operate within conceptual and communal frameworks that shape experience, a phenomenon Thompson experienced firsthand during vipassanā and Zen retreats.

Furthermore, labeling Buddhism as a science of the mind—a core tenet of exceptionalism—is problematic. Thompson warns that this conflates philosophical and normative claims with empirical science. For example, the Buddhist claim of “no-self” is a value-laden, soteriological concept, not a neuroscientific discovery. Similarly, neural Buddhism—the popular claim that meditation rewires the brain and enlightenment has neural correlates—oversimplifies both Buddhist philosophy and cognitive science. While any mental training can alter brain activity, meaning, morality, and liberation cannot be reduced to neural patterns alone.

The bottom line of this chapter is clear:

Buddhist exceptionalism distorts both Buddhism and science. By sanitizing Buddhism into a modern “mind science,” we obscure its religious, communal, and historical dimensions while projecting Western desires for rational spirituality onto it.

Thompson’s intellectual honesty leads him to reject Buddhist modernism as a philosophically coherent identity, which forms the backbone of his broader argument in Why I Am Not a Buddhist. He frames the antidote to this exceptionalist narrative in cosmopolitanism—an approach that appreciates Buddhism as one rich human tradition among many, without elevating it through distorted, modernist lenses.

Chapter 2: Is Buddhism True?

In “Is Buddhism True?”, Evan Thompson examines the popular claim that Buddhism is uniquely true—a claim made not just by modern practitioners but also by prominent authors and neuroscientists. He deconstructs both the philosophical meaning of truth in a religious context and the scientific framing used in contemporary Buddhist discourse, arguing that truth in Buddhism is more complex and context-bound than popular presentations suggest.

The chapter opens by engaging with the best-selling book “Why Buddhism Is True” by Robert Wright, which claims that Buddhism aligns with evolutionary psychology by showing that our suffering results from mental illusions shaped by natural selection. Wright and others present Buddhism as a naturalized philosophy of the mind, whose truth supposedly lies in its psychological insights and compatibility with neuroscience.

Thompson acknowledges the appeal of this narrative but critiques it as simplistic and reductionist.

Buddhism is not a single system of truth-claims. Thompson reminds readers that Buddhism encompasses multiple schools—Theravāda, Mahāyāna, Vajrayāna, Zen—each with distinct doctrines about reality, the self, karma, and liberation. To ask if “Buddhism is true” is like asking if “Western philosophy is true”—it oversimplifies a plural and historically evolving tradition. He cites his own training in Tibetan and Theravāda settings, emphasizing that meditative insight is always framed by interpretation:

“What you experience in meditation depends on what you expect and how your community teaches you to see it” (Thompson, 2020).

Next, Thompson interrogates the scientific validation of Buddhist truth claims. Modern enthusiasts often point to neuroscientific studies on meditation, where brain scans reveal changes in the prefrontal cortex, amygdala, and default mode network. While these studies show that meditation can reduce stress, improve focus, and enhance emotional regulation, Thompson notes that scientific evidence cannot confirm Buddhist metaphysical claims, such as rebirth, karma, or enlightenment as ultimate liberation. Measuring neural correlates of meditation does not equate to proving nirvāṇa exists.

The chapter also addresses the philosophical problem of verification. In Buddhist epistemology, “truth” often has soteriological significance—it is truth for the sake of liberation rather than a neutral description of reality. For example, the Four Noble Truths are less like scientific laws and more like therapeutic diagnoses, guiding practice rather than offering objectively verifiable propositions. This difference between performative truth and propositional truth is central to Thompson’s argument:

Performative Truth: Insights that work pragmatically in transforming the mind and reducing suffering.
Propositional Truth: Statements that can be evaluated as true or false in a scientific or logical sense.

By conflating these, modern “Buddhist science” risks misunderstanding both Buddhism and science. Thompson argues that calling Buddhism true in a scientific sense is an error, because it imposes Western categories of factuality onto a religious-philosophical practice that aims at existential transformation, not empirical proof.

The bottom line of this chapter is that Buddhism is true in the sense of a transformative path, not in the sense of an empirical or universal doctrine. Popular claims that Buddhism is “true” because it matches neuroscience or evolutionary psychology oversimplify its depth, diversity, and cultural context. Thompson’s critique reinforces the central theme of Why I Am Not a Buddhist: revering Buddhism as uniquely scientific or universally true is a modern myth that obscures its real historical and philosophical character.

Chapter 3: No Self? Not So Fast

In “No Self? Not So Fast,” Evan Thompson tackles one of the most famous and philosophically provocative doctrines in Buddhism: anattā (Pāli) or anātman (Sanskrit)—commonly translated as “no self.” Popular presentations of Buddhism, especially in Western secular or scientific circles, celebrate this teaching as a profound psychological truth, claiming that modern neuroscience confirms we have no enduring self. Thompson, however, complicates this narrative, arguing that both Buddhism and science are often oversimplified in this conversation.

The chapter opens by describing how “no self” is popularly interpreted. Many Western practitioners claim that meditation reveals the self to be an illusion, aligning with cognitive science’s model of the brain as a bundle of processes without a central controller. Authors like Sam Harris and Robert Wright frequently frame this convergence as evidence that Buddhist philosophy is scientifically true. Thompson cautions that this is both philosophically hasty and scientifically reductive.

He makes three major points:

The Buddhist Teaching Is Soteriological, Not Scientific
In classical Buddhism, the teaching of no-self is not a detached metaphysical claim but a tool for liberation from suffering. The goal is to dismantle clinging to a permanent “I” and achieve nirvāṇa, not to perform a neuroscientific autopsy of the mind. Thompson notes that Western enthusiasts treat no-self as a factual discovery, but within Buddhism, its truth is embedded in practice and context, often described in relation to impermanence (anicca) and suffering (dukkha).
Neuroscience Does Not Eliminate the Self
Thompson draws from cognitive science and philosophy of mind, his own professional expertise, to challenge the “neural Buddhism” narrative. He acknowledges that the brain constructs our sense of self through integrated neural networks and predictive models, but this does not mean the self is an illusion in the trivial sense. Instead, the self is real as a process—dynamic, relational, and embodied. He calls this the “enactive self”, a concept from embodied cognitive science, which sees the self as a lived, biological and social phenomenon, not a fixed essence.
Experiential Insight Is Always Interpreted
Thompson warns against naive empiricism in meditation—the belief that direct experience reveals objective truth without interpretation. He notes that when meditators report “seeing there is no self,” their experiences are filtered through Buddhist conceptual training, just as a Christian mystic’s experience is filtered through Christian symbols. In other words, insight is theory-laden, shaped by culture, expectation, and language.

To illustrate this point, he references phenomenological philosophy (Husserl, Merleau-Ponty) to show that experience is never raw or unmediated. Thus, claiming that meditation scientifically proves the nonexistence of the self is misleading, because what is experienced in meditation is always framed by interpretation.

The bottom line of this chapter is that the “no self” doctrine cannot be lifted from Buddhism and repackaged as a scientific fact without losing its existential and soteriological significance. Thompson’s nuanced view bridges Buddhist philosophy, Western phenomenology, and cognitive science: the self exists as a dynamic, embodied, and socially enacted process, not as an eternal essence, but also not as a meaningless illusion.

“We don’t have to erase the self to understand it. We need to see it as lived, relational, and contingent, not as a ghost to be exorcised.” (Thompson, 2020)

This argument reinforces the core message of Why I Am Not a Buddhist: Western appropriations of Buddhism often oversimplify complex doctrines like no-self to fit a scientific or secular narrative, which misrepresents both traditions.

Chapter 4: Mindfulness Mania (Approx. 580 words)

In “Mindfulness Mania,” Evan Thompson critiques the Western commodification of Buddhist mindfulness, arguing that the popular movement has divorced mindfulness from its ethical, cultural, and soteriological roots. This chapter captures one of the most striking aspects of Why I Am Not a Buddhist: its critique of modern “McMindfulness,” where meditative practice is marketed as a wellness product, corporate tool, or secular therapy rather than as a path to liberation from suffering.

Thompson begins by tracking the rise of mindfulness in the West. In the late 20th century, programs like Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) introduced meditation to medical and psychological contexts. By the 21st century, mindfulness had exploded into a multibillion-dollar industry. Apps, corporate workshops, and wellness retreats promote mindfulness as a solution for stress, anxiety, and workplace burnout.

Statistics from 2017 estimated the U.S. meditation market at over $1 billion, illustrating how a soteriological practice became a capitalist commodity.

However, Thompson cautions that popular mindfulness is a profound reduction of Buddhist practice. Traditional mindfulness (sati in Pāli) is embedded in the Eightfold Path, which links awareness to ethical conduct, community, and the pursuit of liberation (nirvāṇa). By stripping away these elements, secular mindfulness often becomes ethically neutral, serving corporate productivity or self-optimization rather than compassion or systemic change. He remarks:

“Mindfulness that serves the status quo is not the mindfulness that liberates from suffering.” (Thompson, 2020)

The chapter also explores scientific claims about mindfulness, which have fueled its global popularity. Neuroscientific studies often highlight structural brain changes in the hippocampus, amygdala, and prefrontal cortex after sustained meditation. Meta-analyses suggest benefits for stress reduction, emotional regulation, and even immune function. Yet Thompson warns that media and corporate enthusiasm have exaggerated these findings. He notes that many studies suffer from small sample sizes, lack of long-term follow-up, and overgeneralization.

Moreover, mindfulness without ethics risks reinforcing systemic problems. Thompson critiques the use of mindfulness in military training, corporate offices, and profit-driven therapy, where the goal is to make individuals more resilient to stress without addressing the sources of suffering, such as exploitative workplaces or social inequality. He connects this to Ron Purser’s critique of “McMindfulness”, which calls out the political quietism of the mindfulness movement.

From a philosophical standpoint, Thompson argues that mindfulness mania reflects a Western desire for spiritual benefits without religious commitment. In this sense, secular mindfulness is an expression of Buddhist exceptionalism: Buddhism is marketed as a science of the mind, purified of ritual and cosmology, but recast to serve capitalist and therapeutic values. This commodification undermines the original purpose of mindfulness, which is to cultivate awareness as part of a larger ethical and liberative path.

The bottom line of this chapter is that mindfulness, when stripped of its Buddhist ethical and communal context, becomes a hollow tool of self-management. Thompson does not reject mindfulness as a practice but urges readers to recognize the gap between traditional Buddhist mindfulness and its modern, commercialized counterpart.

“The problem is not mindfulness itself, but the way we’ve turned it into a product rather than a path.”

This argument reinforces the broader thesis of Why I Am Not a Buddhist: Western adaptations of Buddhism often distort the tradition to fit secular, capitalist, and scientific narratives, ultimately misrepresenting its depth and purpose.

Chapter 5: The Rhetoric of Enlightenment

In “The Rhetoric of Enlightenment,” Evan Thompson investigates how the idea of enlightenment functions in both traditional Buddhism and its modern, Western reinterpretations, revealing how it often serves as a persuasive narrative rather than an objective description of human experience. This chapter exemplifies Why I Am Not a Buddhist’s core project: demystifying the ways Buddhist modernism reshapes complex spiritual concepts into secularized or marketable ideals.

Thompson begins by unpacking traditional Buddhist conceptions of enlightenment (bodhi). In its classical context, enlightenment refers to awakening from ignorance and the cycle of rebirth (samsara), leading to nirvāṇa, the cessation of suffering. This is not merely psychological well-being but a cosmic and soteriological transformation. It is grounded in karma, rebirth, and a metaphysical framework of liberation, ideas that modern Western presentations often downplay or reject.

In Buddhist modernism, enlightenment is frequently rebranded as a psychological or cognitive achievement—a shift in perception rather than a metaphysical liberation. Mindfulness teachers, meditation apps, and secular Buddhist writers frame enlightenment as stress reduction, emotional regulation, or self-transcendence.

Thompson notes that such representations flatten the profound doctrinal complexity of Buddhist traditions, reducing multi-life cosmology into personal self-help narratives. He writes:

“We are told that enlightenment is a natural state of mind awaiting discovery, as if liberation were a weekend workshop away.” (Thompson, 2020)

Thompson critiques this rhetorical simplification as part of the Buddhist exceptionalism myth. By claiming that Buddhism delivers scientific, rational enlightenment—free from dogma and superior to Western religion—modern proponents use “enlightenment” as a persuasive brand. This rhetoric appeals to Western desires for spiritual depth without religious entanglement, promising profound transformation without metaphysical commitment.

The chapter also highlights a psychological and philosophical issue: the problem of unverifiability. Traditional enlightenment is inherently private and experiential, yet presented as universally attainable and demonstrably real. Secular teachers and modern mindfulness culture often invoke neuroscience to legitimize enlightenment, citing studies on reduced default mode network activity or enhanced gamma wave synchronization in advanced meditators.

Thompson critiques this move as category error—correlating neural patterns with existential liberation does not equate to proving enlightenment as a truth claim.

He further draws on phenomenology and philosophy of language, noting that “enlightenment talk” functions as aspirational rhetoric. It inspires practice, reinforces community cohesion, and signals moral authority, but it can also create unrealistic expectations and covert hierarchies. The idea that a teacher is “enlightened” often places them beyond critique, contributing to power imbalances or abuses in Western Buddhist communities, a point Thompson subtly threads into his analysis.

Thompson’s bottom line is that enlightenment is as much a rhetorical and cultural construct as it is a spiritual claim. While meditative practice can profoundly transform experience, the modern promise of quick, secular enlightenment is misleading. Recognizing this rhetoric does not diminish the value of Buddhist practice, but it demands intellectual honesty about its traditional context, interpretive nature, and cultural translation.

“Enlightenment, stripped of its mythic and cultural frame, becomes an empty promise—powerful in persuasion, weak in precision.” (Thompson, 2020)

This chapter reinforces Why I Am Not a Buddhist’s central thesis: Western adaptations of Buddhism often repackage complex doctrines into simplified, marketable narratives that obscure their philosophical depth and historical integrity.

Chapter 6: Cosmopolitanism and Conversation

In “Cosmopolitanism and Conversation,” Evan Thompson closes Why I Am Not a Buddhist by outlining a positive vision for engaging with Buddhism without adopting Buddhist identity or falling into Buddhist exceptionalism. This chapter represents a philosophical synthesis and practical reflection, showing how cross-cultural engagement can be intellectually honest, mutually enriching, and free of romanticized distortion.

Thompson begins by revisiting the pitfalls of Buddhist exceptionalism explored in earlier chapters: the tendency to treat Buddhism as uniquely scientific, rational, or universally true. He argues that this stance fails both Buddhism and its interlocutors because it strips the tradition of its historical, ritual, and communal realities while misrepresenting the nature of science and philosophy. Instead of seeking a purified, secular Buddhism for the West, he advocates for a cosmopolitan approach rooted in mutual respect, dialogue, and intellectual humility.

Cosmopolitanism, as Thompson frames it, is the willingness to learn from multiple cultural and intellectual traditions without the need to claim ownership or exclusive allegiance. In this model, Buddhism becomes one voice in a larger global conversation about mind, ethics, and human flourishing—alongside Western philosophy, cognitive science, phenomenology, and other world religions. He draws on Kwame Anthony Appiah’s philosophy of cosmopolitanism to emphasize that deep engagement does not require conversion or idealization.

A central argument of this chapter is that cross-cultural conversation is more fruitful than appropriation. Thompson reflects on his own decades of experience with meditation, Buddhist teachers, and academic study of Buddhist philosophy. He affirms that while he has benefited profoundly from Buddhist insights, he cannot and does not call himself a Buddhist, because doing so would require endorsing metaphysical and soteriological claims he does not believe, such as karma and rebirth. His intellectual integrity rests on engagement without misrepresentation or selective adoption.

Thompson also critiques Western spiritual consumerism, which often extracts practices like mindfulness or no-self teachings from their original context and commodifies them for personal wellness or productivity.

He contrasts this with cosmopolitan conversation, which acknowledges the historical and cultural depth of Buddhist ideas while subjecting them to philosophical and scientific scrutiny. This process, he suggests, enriches both traditions: Buddhism offers phenomenological depth and soteriological frameworks, while science and philosophy provide analytical rigor and comparative perspective.

The chapter’s philosophical culmination is an endorsement of intellectual humility and global dialogue. Thompson encourages readers to let go of the impulse to claim ultimate answers or exclusive truths and instead participate in a pluralistic exploration of the human condition. He envisions a world where Buddhist thought, cognitive science, Western philosophy, and other traditions coexist in a productive “polyphonic” conversation, each contributing to our understanding of mind, meaning, and morality.

The bottom line of the chapter—and of the entire Why I Am Not a Buddhist—is that we do not need to be Buddhists to value Buddhist ideas. By adopting a cosmopolitan stance, we can respect and learn from Buddhism without distorting it into a secularized, commodified, or scientifically “proven” brand. Intellectual honesty, cultural respect, and curiosity offer a richer path than conversion or romanticization.

“To converse is better than to convert. Cosmopolitanism invites us to listen, learn, and share without needing to claim possession of the truth.” (Thompson, 2020)

This final reflection completes the core argument of Why I Am Not a Buddhist: Western engagements with Buddhism should abandon the myth of exceptionalism and embrace dialogue over appropriation, creating a global, pluralistic conversation about the mind and human flourishing.

In Short:

Evan Thompson’s Why I Am Not a Buddhist is both a philosophical memoir and a critical study of Buddhist modernism, organized thematically rather than chronologically. Across Why I Am Not a Buddhist he dissects four interrelated topics:

Buddhist modernism and its flaws
Buddhist exceptionalism and “neural Buddhism”
The philosophical tension between science and meditation
A call for cosmopolitanism instead of religious identity

1. Understanding Buddhist Modernism

At the core of Why I Am Not a Buddhist is the concept of Buddhist modernism, which Thompson defines as:

“The selective, modern reinterpretation of Buddhism as a rational, empirical, and scientific worldview, stripped of its ritual, mythological, and metaphysical elements.” (Thompson, 2020, Ch. 1)

Key features of Buddhist modernism include:

Presenting Buddhism as “not a religion, but a philosophy or psychology of mind.”
Downplaying karma, rebirth, and cosmology, which are integral to traditional Buddhism.
Emphasizing meditation as a form of mental training compatible with modern neuroscience.
Claiming Buddhism aligns with science, unlike Christianity or Islam.

Thompson meticulously traces the historical roots of this phenomenon:

19th-century reformers like Anagarika Dharmapala in Sri Lanka and D. T. Suzuki in Japan rebranded Buddhism to resist colonial criticism.
European orientalists and theosophists fueled the “Buddha as scientist” narrative, which persists in today’s mindfulness industry.

Thompson’s critique is sharp: Buddhist modernism is selective, historically naive, and philosophically inconsistent. It creates a Western-friendly Buddhism that ignores its own ritual and soteriological foundations.

2. Buddhist Exceptionalism and Neural Buddhism

One of the Why I Am Not a Buddhist’s most memorable contributions is its critique of Buddhist exceptionalism—the belief that Buddhism is uniquely rational, superior to religion, and inherently scientific. Thompson labels this a cultural myth that:

Distorts the full complexity of Buddhist traditions.
Flatters Western secular audiences, who want spirituality without “religion.”
Ignores the ethical scandals and power structures in modern dharma communities.

Thompson also explores Neural Buddhism, a 21st-century phenomenon where meditation and enlightenment are reduced to brain states measurable by fMRI scans. Mindfulness apps, neuroscience labs, and media often promote the idea that Buddhism has been “proven” by science, a claim Thompson critiques:

“Contrary to neural Buddhism, the status of the self, the value of meditation, and the meaning of ‘enlightenment’ aren’t matters that neuroscience can decide.” (Thompson, 2020, Ch. 2)

He emphasizes that consciousness is irreducible to neural correlates alone, and that traditional Buddhist insights into no-self (anātman) are philosophically distinct from empirical neuroscience.

Statistics and Context:

Thompson cites the explosive rise of mindfulness in the U.S., with over 14% of adults reporting meditation practice in 2017 (National Center for Health Statistics, 2018).
Yet, most mindfulness practices are decontextualized, stripped of their ethical and ritual frameworks, reflecting the consumerist side of Buddhist modernism.

3. Why Thompson Is Not a Buddhist

The title claim—why Thompson does not identify as Buddhist—is explained in the Introduction and Conclusion:

To be a Buddhist today (in the West) is to be a Buddhist modernist.
Buddhist modernism is philosophically unsound and historically selective.
To adopt the label would feel like “bad faith,” because it would endorse a distorted narrative that erases traditional Buddhism.

His decision is personal but philosophically grounded. After decades of engagement with meditation, neuroscience, and Buddhist philosophy, he chooses a cosmopolitan identity:

“I prefer to live in the space of cosmopolitanism—learning from Buddhist traditions without needing to be a Buddhist.” (Thompson, 2020, Ch. 4)

This stance liberates him to engage multiple traditions—Western philosophy, cognitive science, phenomenology, and global ethics—without confining himself to a religious identity.

4. Lessons and Integrated Themes

Across Why I Am Not a Buddhist, Thompson conveys major lessons for modern readers:

Buddhism is not inherently scientific; its modern portrayal is a cultural construction.
Mindfulness and meditation are valuable, but cannot be reduced to brain scans or stripped of ethics.
Spirituality without dogma is possible through cosmopolitan engagement rather than religious labeling.
Authentic learning requires confronting traditions in their fullness, including ritual, myth, and history, not just the convenient parts.

This extended summary equips readers with the book’s key arguments and insights without needing to consult the original text.

Reception, Criticism, and Influence

Since its publication in 2020 by Yale University Press, Why I Am Not a Buddhist has attracted significant attention across academic, spiritual, and popular circles. Evan Thompson’s blend of personal reflection and philosophical critique positions the book as a touchstone for debates on Buddhism, science, and modern spirituality.

Reception

Academic Circles

Positive reception in philosophy and religious studies:
Scholars have praised the book for its rigorous dismantling of Buddhist modernism, particularly its historical and philosophical analysis.
- Journals like Philosophy East and West highlighted Thompson’s clarity in explaining how Buddhist exceptionalism distorts both Buddhist tradition and scientific discourse.
Influence in cognitive science and contemplative studies:
Why I Am Not a Buddhist is cited in discussions around neurophenomenology and mindfulness research, especially as a caution against overclaiming scientific validation for meditation practices.

Mindfulness and Secular Spirituality Communities

Mixed reactions:
- Practitioners of mindfulness-based programs found Thompson’s critique of “neural Buddhism” both eye-opening and challenging, as it questions the foundations of their secularized practices.
- Some teachers acknowledged that commodified mindfulness and celebrity neuroscience have indeed oversimplified the rich complexities of Buddhist philosophy.
Others felt uncomfortable, interpreting Why I Am Not a Buddhist as too skeptical of practical benefits, despite Thompson repeatedly affirming the value of meditation and cross-cultural learning.

Popular Audience

Among general readers, Why I Am Not a Buddhist is seen as intellectual yet relatable.
Thompson’s personal tone, sharing his journey from childhood exposure to Zen and Tibetan traditions to his current cosmopolitan stance, makes the narrative accessible to seekers and skeptics alike.
Amazon and Goodreads reviews frequently highlight that readers appreciated not needing to agree with Thompson to find value in his insights, as the book encourages critical thinking rather than dogma.

Criticism

Despite its largely positive intellectual reception, Why I Am Not a Buddhist has drawn several criticisms:

Perceived Dismissiveness

Critics from Buddhist communities argue that Thompson overemphasizes the flaws of Buddhist modernism and underappreciates its pragmatic benefits, especially in mental health and stress reduction contexts.
Some see the “bad faith” argument—that adopting a Buddhist label in the West is inherently tied to Buddhist modernism—as overly rigid, leaving little room for pluralistic, non-dogmatic forms of identification.

Western-Centric Lens

While Thompson engages with Asian philosophy, some scholars argue that his focus on North American and European Buddhist modernism risks underrepresenting the diversity of contemporary Asian Buddhist experiences.
This has led to debates on how to balance critique of Western appropriations with recognition of living Asian traditions.

Philosophical Accessibility vs. Specialist Detail

The book’s strength in accessibility can also be a weakness for academic specialists, who may find that complex debates in Buddhist philosophy (like Madhyamaka or Yogācāra) are simplified for broader audiences.
Conversely, general readers might occasionally struggle with the phenomenological and cognitive science terminology, though Thompson largely avoids excessive jargon.

Influence

Why I Am Not a Buddhist has had significant influence in several domains:

Mindfulness and Contemplative Science

The book is now frequently cited in debates on secular mindfulness, neural Buddhism, and the limits of contemplative neuroscience.
It encourages researchers to separate empirical study from metaphysical overreach, reminding the field that science cannot adjudicate ultimate spiritual claims.

Philosophy of Religion and Cross-Cultural Dialogue

Thompson’s stance of cosmopolitan engagement without religious self-labeling offers a model for intellectual openness, particularly in comparative philosophy and religious studies.
Scholars exploring post-secularism and pluralism reference Thompson as an advocate for learning across traditions without essentializing or romanticizing them.

Public Discourse on Buddhism and Secularism

Media outlets such as Tricycle, Lion’s Roar, and The Guardian have engaged with Thompson’s ideas, amplifying his warning against the commercialization and simplification of Buddhism.
In podcasts and interviews, he emphasizes that acknowledging the flaws of Buddhist modernism is not a rejection of wisdom, but an invitation to a more honest and holistic dialogue.

Conclusion

Evan Thompson’s Why I Am Not a Buddhist is a remarkable intellectual journey, blending personal narrative, philosophical critique, and cultural analysis. Written with clarity, honesty, and scholarly rigor, the book challenges Western audiences to reconsider their assumptions about Buddhism, science, and spirituality.

Overall Impressions

Reading Why I Am Not a Buddhist feels like sitting with a thoughtful guide who has walked both inside and outside the temple walls:

As an insider, Thompson’s decades of engagement with Buddhist philosophy and meditation give him empathetic insight into its beauty and complexity.
As a philosopher and cognitive scientist, he steps back to analyze its modern adaptations, identifying Buddhist modernism, neural Buddhism, and Buddhist exceptionalism as philosophically problematic narratives.

The book’s tone is balanced: it is critical without being dismissive, personal without being self-indulgent, and educational without being dogmatic. By the end, readers understand exactly why Thompson does not identify as a Buddhist—because doing so in the West almost inevitably perpetuates a selective, Westernized, and often misleading version of the tradition.

Key Insights Restated

Buddhist Modernism Is Selective and Flawed

It strips traditional Buddhism of ritual, myth, and metaphysics to appeal to Western secular audiences.
This creates a distorted picture, leaving out core doctrines like karma and rebirth.

Neural Buddhism Oversimplifies Spiritual Insight

Meditation and enlightenment cannot be reduced to brain states or validated solely by neuroscience.
Science and spirituality can dialogue, but one cannot replace the other.

Cosmopolitan Learning Over Religious Labeling

Thompson advocates learning from traditions without adopting religious identity.
This frees intellectuals and practitioners to engage multiple worldviews without falling into bad faith.

Authenticity Requires Honest Engagement

True respect for Buddhism includes its full historical, cultural, and ethical complexity, not just its Westernized, convenient fragments.

Who Should Read This Book?

Why I Am Not a Buddhist is ideal for multiple audiences:

Scholars and Students of philosophy, religious studies, or cognitive science, who will appreciate its depth and clarity.
Mindfulness Practitioners seeking critical reflection on the origins and meaning of their practice.
Spiritual Seekers and Skeptics who value intellectual honesty and prefer dialogue over dogma.
General Readers curious about Buddhism’s adaptation in the modern world, especially in the context of science, meditation, and global philosophy.

It is less suited for those seeking a practical meditation manual or a romanticized defense of Buddhism, as its purpose is reflective, not devotional.

Final Recommendation

Evan Thompson delivers a courageous and necessary book for an era of global spiritual cross-pollination. His cosmopolitan perspective encourages readers to think critically, engage deeply, and learn broadly, without the need for religious self-identification.

In an age where mindfulness apps, neuroscience headlines, and popular books like Robert Wright’s Why Buddhism Is True dominate the conversation, Why I Am Not a Buddhist is the counterpoint we need. It reminds us that truth-seeking, ethical living, and philosophical integrity are not dependent on wearing a label—and that love and knowledge remain the ultimate guides for a meaningful life.

Why I Am Not a Buddhist by Evan Thompson: A Shocking Rethink of Mindfulness & Belief

Table of Contents

Background

Summary of “Why I Am Not a Buddhist”