Introduction

One of the great strengths of secular Buddhism has been its willingness to let go of metaphysical overlays and return to the lived reality of practice. By doing so, it has made the Dharma more accessible to people who are wary of religious dogma but still drawn to the possibility of transformation.

In this spirit, many secular Buddhists — including Stephen Batchelor — have rejected the old formula “life is suffering.” This is an important move, because it avoids the pessimistic worldview that made Buddhism sound like a creed of despair. Batchelor, in particular, reframes dukkha as “reactivity” — something conditional, not inherent in life itself.

Where I wish to contribute is by asking: How close does this take us to the Buddha’s own words? If the Dharma is to remain vital in the 21st century, especially for people suspicious of religion, then the question of precision matters. It is not enough to reject pessimism; we must rediscover the exact forensic clarity with which the Buddha described suffering.

In this article I’m using the term forensic not in the modern sense of criminal investigation but in its older sense of careful, evidence-based inquiry. My intention is to underline the Buddha’s diagnostic clarity in uncovering the conditional root of suffering in the appropriation of the five aggregates as “I, me, mine.”

The Drifted Framework

The formula “life is suffering” has been repeated for centuries, but it is not what the Buddha actually said. In his first sermon, the Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta (SN 56.11), the Buddha’s summary was:

“In short, the five aggregates subject to clinging are suffering.”

This is a world apart from “life is suffering.”
- It does not condemn life as tragic.
- It identifies a specific conditional process: suffering arises when the aggregates — body, feeling, perception, formations, consciousness — are appropriated as “I, me, mine.”

How, then, did the Buddha’s clarity drift into the pessimistic ontology of “life is suffering”? Several factors played a role:
- Translation shortcuts: Conditional statements were reduced to slogans.
- Pedagogical convenience: “Life is suffering” was easy to memorize and preach, even if distorted.
- Institutional interests: A bleak view of life reinforced renunciation and monastic authority.
- Sectarian identity: Emphasizing life’s futility distinguished Buddhism from other traditions.

The result was a Dharma that sounded like resignation rather than diagnosis. Critics from Nietzsche to modern skeptics were not wrong when they accused Buddhism of pessimism or nihilism — they were responding to the drifted framework, not the Buddha’s precision.

The Secular Correction

The secular turn in Buddhism has been a vital corrective. By peeling away metaphysics and otherworldly claims, it has sought to restore the Dharma to something testable in lived experience. One of its clearest contributions has been to challenge the traditional formulation of the First Noble Truth.

Stephen Batchelor, for example, has been explicit in rejecting the notion that “life is suffering.” He emphasizes that suffering (dukkha) is not the essence of life, but something conditional. In his language, dukkha arises through “reactivity” — our habitual responses of grasping and resistance to what we experience.

This reframing is important. It shifts the conversation from ontology to conditionality. Instead of declaring life itself flawed, Batchelor highlights how suffering arises in the space between experience and our reactions to it. This is a significant advance over the drifted framework, because it removes the stigma of pessimism and restores the possibility of a practical, this-worldly Dharma.

And yet, as helpful as this correction is, it still does not recover the Buddha’s forensic clarity. To say that suffering is “reactivity” points in the right direction, but remains broad and psychological. The Buddha’s words are more precise: suffering arises when the five aggregates are subject to clinging — when body, feeling, perception, formation, and consciousness are appropriated as “I, me, mine.”

Without this forensic diagnosis, even secular Buddhism risks remaining within the drift. It rightly rejects the pessimism of “life is suffering,” but by stopping at “reactivity,” it leaves the deepest mechanism unnamed: the appropriation of experience into identity.

The Remaining Gap

The Buddha’s teaching was not a general observation about our tendency to react, nor a broad commentary on the unsatisfactory nature of life. It was a forensic diagnosis:

“In short, the five aggregates subject to clinging are suffering.” (SN 56.11)

This is not a statement about existence, nor even about reactivity in the abstract. It pinpoints a precise mechanism: suffering arises when we appropriate experience into the sense of “I, me, mine.”

- Body becomes “my body.”
- Feeling becomes “my pain” or “my pleasure.”
- Perception becomes “my view of the world.”
- Formations become “my habits, my story.”
- Consciousness becomes “my awareness, my mind.”

The aggregates themselves are not suffering. They are simply the flow of experience. They become suffering only when claimed as identity.

This is the gap that remains even in secular reinterpretations. To describe suffering as “reactivity” is helpful, but it does not reveal what is being protected or defended when we react. The Buddha’s answer is unambiguous: it is the self-image, the identity we construct out of the aggregates.

Why Forensic Clarity Matters Today

At first glance, these distinctions may appear technical. Does it really matter whether we say that suffering is “life,” or “reactivity,” or “appropriation”? For those who live under the weight of modern anxieties, the difference is not academic — it is everything.

Consider the struggles shaping so many lives today:
- Anxiety and insecurity — the endless fear of not being enough.
- Burnout and exhaustion — the fatigue of performing identities at work, in family, and on social media.
- Imposter syndrome — the dread that one’s constructed identity will collapse.
- Comparison and despair — measuring one’s worth against others, endlessly.

These are not mere “reactions.” They are the direct result of identity-craving (bhava-taṇhā), of appropriating the flow of life as “I, me, mine.” This is exactly what the Buddha diagnosed 2,500 years ago.

And the same applies collectively:
- Consumerism is identity written in goods.
- Nationalism is identity written in politics.
- Climate collapse is identity written on the Earth itself — humanity trying to secure permanence, comfort, and control.

If we leave the Dharma at the level of “reactivity,” we miss this radical relevance. We soften the teaching into psychology. But if we recover the Buddha’s forensic clarity, the Dharma speaks directly to the crises of our age. It shows us that freedom is not escape from life, but release from appropriation.

Conclusion

The Buddha’s discovery was not a philosophy of despair, nor a vague psychology of “reactivity.” It was a forensic diagnosis: suffering arises only when life is appropriated into “I, me, mine.”

Traditional Buddhism drifted into ontology — “life is suffering.” Secular Buddhism has taken an important corrective step by rejecting this pessimism and restoring conditionality. But unless we recover the Buddha’s own precision, the Dharma risks being reduced either to abstract worldviews or to therapeutic techniques.

The task before us is not to add new interpretations, but to rediscover the clarity that was always there. This rediscovery does not diminish secular Buddhism; it strengthens it. By grounding suffering in appropriation, we connect the Dharma directly to the burdens of modern life — anxiety, burnout, imposter syndrome, and even the planetary crises that flow from unchecked identity-craving.

Life is not suffering.
Identity is.
Life unclaimed is liberation.

This is not a slogan, but the Buddha’s own insight, restored to view — and the starting point for a Dharma that can truly speak to the 21st century.