I. What This Concept Is About
To understand 他作 (parakṛta, "other-made"), one must first know that it is not an isolated pair of words but one member of a fourfold framework. In analyzing the fundamental question of "where suffering (苦, duḥkha) comes from," the Mādhyamika school (中觀) arranges the four answers an ordinary person (凡夫, pṛthagjana) might give into a matrix: 自作 (svakṛta, "self-made"), 他作 ("other-made"), 共作 (ubhayakṛta, "both-made"), and 无因作 (ahetuka, "made without a cause"). These four answers all look reasonable and plausible, yet at bottom each one fixes the source of suffering as an "independent agent," and so all four are refuted together. 《中论》 (Mūlamadhyamakakārikā, "Fundamental Verses on the Middle Way") states this plainly at the very outset:
「自作及他作，共作无因作，如是说诸苦，于果则不然。」 *"Whether suffering is said to be self-made, other-made, both-made, or made without a cause—in none of these cases does it hold for the effect."*
The so-called 他作 ("other-made") is the second member, meaning: suffering is caused by another, by something external, by an agent capable of acting independently of me. In the Indian intellectual background, this "other" could be quite concrete—a particular person, a particular force—or quite grand: 自在天 (Īśvara, the Lord), the Creator, a deity. Translated into a contemporary idiom, the "other" can be one's parents, partner, boss, genes, algorithms, social structures, fate, childhood, or even "the lesson the universe is giving me." The forms vary; the structure is the same: there is an "other" presumed to exist independently and self-sufficiently, installed as the true author of suffering.
The Mādhyamika does not deny that suffering arises from conditions (众缘, the convergence of causes and conditions). In fact, both 《中论》 and 《十二门论》 (Dvādaśamukhaśāstra, "Twelve Gate Treatise") emphasize that suffering does indeed arise from a convergence of conditions; the error consists in going a step further and reifying those conditions into an "independent other"—an autonomous subject that produces suffering. This distinction is crucial; without it, the entire refutation would be misread as "Buddhism does not acknowledge external factors," which would be a blunder even more egregious than the four theses themselves.
Why does "other-made" fail to stand? The core is that "other-made" necessarily presupposes an "other" capable of operating independently, and this "other" cannot withstand several layers of questioning:
First layer: there is no true "otherness" between cause and effect. 《中论》 makes this point with the "thread–cloth" (縷—布) simile: if one says that these five aggregates (五阴, pañcaskandha) make those five aggregates, that this moment makes that moment, as if there were an "other" reaching across time to produce suffering, then it should be possible, apart from "these five aggregates," to find "those five aggregates." But in fact, apart from this there is no that—the "that" is internal to the "this." Cause and effect are not two independent entities handing something off to each other; they are the same set of conditions unfolding through time. 《十二门论》 adds a further blow from the side of "conditions": with the similes "the clay pot—the clay is not called 'other'" and "the gold bracelet—the gold is not called 'other,'" it shows that since suffering arises from conditions and is itself of the nature of those conditions, being one substance with them, it cannot rightly be called "other"—you cannot say that a clay pot is "other-made" by clay, because the pot is simply clay manifesting in a certain shape.
Second layer: the "that" which acts still falls into the error of self-making. 《中论》 explicitly exposes this: "If self-making does not hold, how could that one make suffering? If that person makes suffering, that too is called self-making." When you posit an "other person" capable of making suffering, that "other person" becomes, from his own standpoint, an agent—and for him, "making suffering" is his own operation. The "that" of other-making thus folds right back into self-making. Therefore other-making cannot stand independently; break one side, and the other side falls with it.
Third layer: a further refutation from the side of the "recipient." 《中论》 presses: "If suffering is made by another and given to this person—apart from suffering, what person is there to receive it?" "If suffering is made by that person and handed to this one—apart from suffering, what person is there to whom it could be given?" The picture of "suffering made by another and conferred upon this person" presupposes a "this person" who exists independently of his suffering, as its recipient. But apart from suffering there is no such person: the "I" you speak of is not a spectator suspended outside suffering, waiting for suffering to arrive; the "I" is another name for this very operation of suffering. So the picture of "another person conferring suffering upon this I" cannot stand on its own.
Fourth layer: the summary that a dharma does not make itself. 《中论》 uses the simile "a knife cannot cut itself": a knife cannot cut itself; likewise, a dharma (法, dharma) cannot make a dharma. Suffering cannot make itself, and the "other" cannot constitute itself as an independent agent and then make suffering—"that one has no self-nature (自体, svabhāva); how could that one make suffering?" Apart from suffering there is no self-nature of the "that"; the "that" is itself suffering, and so other-making is likewise untenable.
Fifth layer: settling on the specific form of "Īśvara-made." 《十二门论》 distills one extreme form of other-making: when people say "everything is created by God," "everything is fate," "everything is given by some higher power," they are in effect expanding other-making into Īśvara-making. This version carries a twofold defect: if all things arise from Īśvara, they should all resemble Īśvara—"as a calf is still a cow"—but in fact they do not; the myriad things are infinitely various. Moreover, if the Creator were truly compassionate, "it should shield suffering with happiness alone, not give suffering"—since it gives suffering to its children, it is either not compassionate or not sovereign; either way, it cannot support the image of an independent agent.
And where does it all land? After all four theses are refuted, 《十二门论》 concludes: "all dharmas are empty (一切法空)," "then there is no suffering," "one should know that suffering is itself emptiness (当知苦则是空)." This does not mean suffering does not exist (worldly suffering is still there); it means there is no independent, self-existent agent of suffering—no self, no other, no both, no causelessness. Suffering manifests in the continuity of conditions; it needs no "Creator" to underwrite it.
There is, incidentally, the famous case: the naked ascetic Kāśyapa (裸形迦叶) asks the Buddha. Kāśyapa puts four questions to the Buddha—"Is suffering self-made?" "Is it other-made?" "Is it both self-made and other-made?" "Is it made without cause or condition?"—and the Buddha remains silent to all four. This is not because the Buddha has no answer, but because the premise of Kāśyapa's questions already falls into the wrong view of "one who has a self"—he covertly assumes an "I" that is either the cause or the recipient of suffering, and so the Buddha does not answer. Not answering all four is precisely the most concise form of refuting all four.
II. Walking Through It in Daily Life
Let us go through several scenarios familiar to contemporary people, step by step, using the classical structure set out above. The point is not to deny concrete suffering, but to see how the "other-made" structure quietly installs itself in our narratives.
Scenario One: Blaming Current Pain on Parents / the Family of Origin
"All my problems today—not being able to love, not daring to express myself, getting anxious at the slightest thing—are all because of my parents / my childhood."
This is the most classic and most resonant contemporary version of other-making. An "other" called "family of origin" (原生家庭) is installed as the agent of suffering.
Walking through it with the "clay pot" simile: the response patterns that cause you pain now—avoidance of conflict, excessive need for approval, fear of intimacy—were indeed "shaped" by your parents. But these patterns live in your neural pathways, in your bodily habits, in your interpersonal reflexes. Your parents are not an "other" completely independent of you—they are the "thread" in your "cloth," the clay, the gold. To cut yourself off from them and locate a "purely external cause" is a picture that cannot stand: you as "the person shaped by your parents" and your parents as "the people who shaped you" are already in the same causal network.
Walking through it with "apart from suffering, what person is there to receive it?": when you describe yourself as "my problems all originate from my parents," the "I" in that sentence—the "I" who was wronged by the family of origin, the "I" who deserves to be understood—is also part of that narrative. This attribution structure requires a binary framework of "victim–perpetrator," and the "I" stands at the victim pole. Apart from the "suffering" (apart from "having been wronged"), that "I" has no place to stand. In other words, this "other-made" mode of attribution is secretly manufacturing a "recipient I" as well—and that "I" is not really independent of the suffering.
Walking through it with "self-making is other-making": if you say that the "other" called "parents" can "make suffering," then where does "making suffering" come from for the parents themselves? They too are within their own causal conditions—they too are "victims" of their own parents, products of their own era and their own deprivation. Once you press the "that" of other-making, it immediately folds back into the problem of self-making: they are not autonomous creators; they too are recipients of conditions.
Where the mapping tends to go wrong: at this point many people jump to "so parents have no responsibility / so you shouldn't blame your parents"—this is doubly wrong. What the Mādhyamika refutes is the framework that installs parents as "independent creators"; it does not say that childhood trauma is unreal or that parental influence does not exist. Specific people, in specific events, caused specific harm—these are real conditions and need to be seen, acknowledged, and dealt with. Refuting "other-made" is philosophical work, not a moral verdict.
Scenario Two: Blaming Career or Life Setbacks on "the System / Structure / the Environment"
"This society / workplace / education system is designed from the ground up for certain people; my misfortune is caused by the structure."
This is a common other-making in contemporary political awakening—but its form is quite different: it no longer blames a specific person, but an agentless "system."
Walking through it with the "thread–cloth" simile: the "system" is not a floating entity; it is constituted by countless concrete people, rules, inertias, and distributions of resources. "I" am also not entirely outside the system—I participate in it; my reactions, my choices, my persistence, my compromises are part of the system's operation. It is hard to lift "the system" out and treat it as an "other" fully independent of me, purely "making suffering" toward me.
Walking through it with the "calf is still a cow" simile: this is precisely the flaw in the contemporary version of Īśvara-making. If some independent force truly dominated all suffering, that force should resemble its "work"—but under the same system, some suffer, some benefit, some adapt, some resist. No single creator can explain this complexity. So rather than saying "the system made my suffering," it is more accurate to say "in my interaction with the system, I encountered specific obstructions and pressures"—the latter reads as less forceful, but it is closer to the causal structure that actually occurred.
An important caveat: none of this means that structure is unimportant or need not be reformed. Structure is a real set of conditions; its pressure on people is uneven, analyzable, and ought to be changed. But treating structure as an independent agent in the manner of Īśvara will make us miss two facts: first, there are gaps and spaces for agency within structure; second, changing structure requires concrete actors—and those actors are also part of the structure. They are not an "other" floating outside it, come to save the world.
Scenario Three: Blaming Emotional / Psychological Distress on Genes or Biology
"I have a depression-susceptibility gene / my neurotransmitters are just different from other people's, which is why I am this way."
This is a very contemporary, very "scientific" kind of other-making—treating genes and physiology as things independent of the "I."
Walking through it with the "knife cannot cut itself" simile: genes are not a thing outside the "self"; they are encoded in your cells, in your developmental history, in your ongoing interaction with your environment. You are not "something that carries a certain gene"; you are the organism in which genes operate. To treat genes as an independent "other" is to cut that "other" off from you—but you cannot actually make that cut.
Walking through it with "that one has no self-nature": for that "gene" to "make suffering," it would itself have to be an entity with self-nature, capable of autonomous operation. But genes never operate in isolation—they need expression conditions, environmental triggers, and interaction with lifestyle, sleep, and social relationships before they manifest in a particular way. You hold a genetic report and say "that's why I am this way"—that "why" spans a vast number of intermediate links, and those intermediate links are precisely the parts of your life that are observable and influenceable.
Where the mapping tends to go wrong: this does not mean physiological factors are unreal or that depression is "just overthinking." The physiological correlates of depression are well-established conditions. But attributing them to an "independent other" can make you feel "sentenced" the moment you receive the report—and the Mādhyamika's refutation of "other-made" is precisely what loosens that sense of sentence.
Scenario Four: Blaming the Partner for the Breakdown of an Intimate Relationship
"He / she destroyed me / destroyed this relationship."
This is a scenario 《中论》 handles directly: "If suffering is made by another and given to this person—apart from suffering, what person is there to receive it?"
Walking through it with "apart from suffering, what person is there to receive it?": when you say "he destroyed me," you imply an "I"—a destroyed, pitiable "I." But this "I" is not independent of the relationship and its interaction patterns—it is precisely a product of those patterns. The way you love, the people you choose, your reactions in the relationship, your boundaries, your compromises—these cannot be entirely "handed off" to the other person.
Walking through it with "self-making is other-making": the other person may indeed be a very large cause in this relationship—they have their patterns, their limits, their choices. But they are not Īśvara; they too are products of conditions. Once you press a "that" capable of "making suffering"—how did they "make" it? Why did they make it that way? They too are within their own causal conditions. So treating them as a pure other-agent oversimplifies the picture—usually in order to protect oneself from having to see the part one co-constructed.
An important caveat: the other person has responsibility—there is no question about that. Specific people did specific things that caused specific harm—these are real conditions. Refuting "other-made" does not mean the other person has no responsibility; it means that in the full picture of "he made suffering for me," "I" am not an innocent bystander, and "he" is not an autonomous creator. This is seeing the relationship clearly, not letting anyone off the hook.
Scenario Five: Blaming Addiction / Compulsive Engagement on Algorithms / Platforms
"The algorithm made me addicted; the platform was deliberately designed to do this; it's not my fault."
This is a new contemporary form of other-making, and also the latest variant of "Īśvara-made" in 《十二门论》—treating an agentless system as an "other"-like agent.
Walking through it with "conditions are one substance": the algorithm is not a floating creator; it is designed by people and optimized for certain human tendencies. To act on you, it must catch hold of something already in you—your attentional mechanisms, your emotional needs, your reward circuitry, your loneliness, your boredom. The algorithm and "you" are not two independent entities in a game against each other; they are different nodes in the same attentional ecosystem. To say "the algorithm made my addiction" is like saying "clay made the clay pot"—the pot is simply clay manifesting in a certain shape.
Walking through it with "the calf is still a cow": if the algorithm were truly an independent creator, everyone it catches should "resemble the algorithm"—but clearly they do not. The same feed drives one person into depression, teaches another person things, and is closed by a third within five minutes. The algorithm does not uniformly "make suffering" for everyone; it amplifies different tendencies. The key insight here is: the tendencies already in you—what you are sensitive to, when you are most vulnerable, what you use to fill emptiness—determine whether the algorithm can catch you. If you cannot see this layer, the story of "the algorithm takes the blame" will cost you awareness of your own tendencies.
An important caveat: the platform's dark patterns, addictive design, and construction of information cocoons are real problems that need regulation, criticism, and change. "Blame the algorithm" is not entirely wrong—but if it stops at "blame the algorithm," then the part of ourselves that participates in, feeds, and replicates this system remains obscured.
Overview: Where the Mapping Most Often Goes Wrong
1. Taking the refutation of "other-made" as "you are not allowed to complain about external factors." Wrong. The Mādhyamika never denies conditions; what it refutes is the metaphysical framework that reifies conditions into an independent "other." Complaining, accusing, demanding change—all of these are legitimate; they simply cannot be grounded in the untenable premise that "a pure other made my suffering."
2. Taking the refutation of "other-made" as "you must take responsibility for everything yourself." Wrong. This leap lands squarely in the trap of "self-made." Other-making and self-making are mirror images; refuting one refutes the other—"blame everything on yourself" is the other pole of the same error, merely moving the agent from outside to inside.
3. Taking the refutation of "other-made" as "the victim's feelings are all fake." Wrong. Analyzing causal structure is philosophical work; acknowledging pain is ethical work; the two are not the same thing. A person can fully acknowledge that they suffered specific harm and at the same time stop organizing their narrative around the "other-made" framework.
4. Confining the "other" to "other people" in interpersonal relationships. Not right. The "other" of other-making includes everything conceived as independent of me and capable of autonomous action: other persons, Īśvara, gods, fate, genes, algorithms, structures, childhood—any "other" endowed with independent "making" capacity falls within the scope of the refutation.
5. Assuming that refuting "other-made" amounts to "forgiving" or "letting go." That is the work of psychology or ethics, not the core aim of the Mādhyamika. What the Mādhyamika refutes is the ultimate reality of the concept—it is meant to show you that the "other-made" structure itself cannot stand. What you choose to do afterward about your relationships with specific people is a different layer of practice and cannot be directly derived from this philosophical analysis.
III. Why Contemporary People Need It
First: the internal tension of victim narratives. Contemporary culture strongly affirms the ethical demand to "acknowledge harm" and "hold to account"—this is of course important. Compared with covering over pain, letting pain be seen is itself part of healing. But when the "other-made" framework is pushed to its extreme—blaming everything on the other party, the system, the family of origin, the genes—personal agency and the possibility of change are canceled out. The Mādhyamika offers a position that neither denies external conditions nor seeks an "independent creator" within them: it neither leaves the victim homeless nor enshrines the perpetrator (whether a person or a structure) as an Īśvara.
Second: the new form of other-making in the algorithm age. Contemporary people increasingly tend to treat "invisible forces"—algorithms, platforms, markets, conspiratorial groups—as the source of suffering. This is precisely the contemporary variant of "Īśvara-made" in 《十二门论》, and the analytical framework is identical. The algorithm has no will, is not a god, but in our narratives we easily turn it into an "other"-like agent—"it made me this way." The Mādhyamika provides tools that allow us to take seriously the real shaping of human attention by algorithms without being trapped in the picture of "it made my addiction" and losing awareness of our own tendencies.
Third: the loosening of the boundary between "self" and "other." Contemporary psychology (trauma research, attachment theory, complex PTSD studies) and neuroscience increasingly find that the boundary between "self" and "environment," "inner" and "outer," is far blurrier than traditional views assume. Your neural circuitry was shaped by your childhood; your childhood was shaped by your parents' personalities; your parents' personalities were shaped by their childhoods—this causal chain has no clean "inner–outer" dividing line. The Mādhyamika's analysis of the independence of the "other" happens to echo this finding—but one must be cautious: philosophical analysis and scientific discovery cannot be simply equated. The Mādhyamika speaks of concepts lacking independent self-nature in the ultimate sense; science speaks of interaction mechanisms at the empirical level. The two point in similar directions, but their paths of argument and where they stand are different.
Fourth: the key to the "both-made" impasse. Many contemporary problems are not purely other-made but co-made—I and my partner jointly constructed the failure of the relationship, I and my colleagues jointly constructed the work environment, I and the system jointly constructed a certain situation. But "both-made" is logically dependent on "self-made" and "other-made" each being able to stand—if neither can stand alone, "both-made" naturally cannot stand either. So refuting "other-made" is also laying the foundation for dismantling "both-made": when we see clearly that the "other party" is not an independent creator, we become able to actually face the question "what did we co-construct?"—rather than oscillating between "blame the other" and "blame myself."
Fifth: from the emptiness of suffering to the ceasing of suffering. This is the point most easily overlooked. The Mādhyamika's refutation of the four theses is not an academic game; it is a crucial link on the path of liberation. If suffering were truly made by an independent other, then since that other could make it, it could be changed, overthrown, avenged, or reconciled with—but in fact none of these means can truly stop suffering. But if suffering manifests in the continuity of conditions, with no independent author, then its changeability no longer depends on "dealing with the creator" but rests on seeing conditions clearly, adjusting conditions, and transforming conditions—this is precisely where the Noble Eightfold Path (八正道, āryāṣṭāṅgamārga) can actually take effect. Refuting "other-made" clears the ground for the entire path of liberation.
IV. Common Misreadings and Clarifications
Misreading 1: "This is victim-blaming."
Clarification: the Mādhyamika never says "your suffering is your own doing, so you have no right to complain." What it refutes is the metaphysical framework that "suffering is purely caused by an independent other"; it does not say that concrete external trauma is unimportant. Specific people, in specific events, caused specific harm (abuse, discrimination, oppression, abandonment)—all of these are real conditions that need to be seen, addressed, compensated, and recorded in history. Refuting "other-made" is philosophical work—seeing clearly that this framework itself cannot stand; it never directly entails any conclusion about the ethical judgment of specific events.
Misreading 2: "This means you must take responsibility for everything yourself."
Clarification: this lands exactly in the trap of "self-made," and what is wrong with other-made is equally wrong with self-made. If you refute other-making while simultaneously installing self-making, you have merely moved the agent from outside to inside, without actually escaping the four theses—you have only changed the target of projection. The Mādhyamika refutes self-making as well; "suffering is not called self-made; a dharma does not make itself" has already made this clear. So the correct posture is neither "blame the other" nor "blame oneself," but seeing clearly that suffering manifests in the continuity of conditions, with no independent "who" to be held accountable.
Misreading 3: "This is denying causality."
Clarification: this is the most egregious misreading, but also the most common. The Mādhyamika never denies that suffering arises from conditions. "Suffering is not called self-made" does not mean suffering has no cause; it means there is no independently self-existent "self" or "other" as agent. Conditions are still operating; suffering still arises from causes and conditions—there is simply no "sovereign" creator. This is entirely different from "there is no cause and no effect." To read the Mādhyamika as "everything is without cause or effect" is to read it as the very fourth thesis it is refuting—causeless making (无因作).
Misreading 4: Confining the "other" to "other people" in interpersonal relationships.
Clarification: not right. The "other" of other-making includes everything conceived as "independent of me" and capable of acting: other persons, Īśvara, gods, fate, systems, genes, childhood, algorithms, the unconscious—any "other" endowed with independent "making" capacity falls within the scope of the refutation. This point is especially important because it prevents us from reading the Mādhyamika as a narrowed psychological rhetoric that merely "refutes complaining about others."
Misreading 5: Thinking that refuting "other-made" means "loving concrete people" or "forgiving concrete people."
Clarification: the liberative goal of Buddhism is the cessation of suffering, not the improvement of interpersonal relations; the core work of the Mādhyamika is to analyze the ultimate reality of concepts, not to issue ethical prescriptions. Converting the refutation of "other-made" directly into "forgive your parents / boss / ex" is a category error—that is the work of psychology or ethics, requiring a different set of tools and a different process. What the Mādhyamika refutes is the reality of the "other-made" structure; it does not directly tell you how to handle your relationship with any specific person. Seeing the structure clearly is one thing; whether to forgive is another; the two cannot substitute for each other.
Misreading 6: Simply equating "Īśvara-made" with "the error of theism."
Clarification: not quite right. What the Mādhyamika refutes is the metaphysical structure of "Īśvara as an independent agent"—a supreme entity capable of autonomously, without any support, "creating" or "imposing" suffering. This does not amount to a simple negation of all theistic traditions. In fact, some theologies of deep theism themselves refuse to treat God as a "creation machine," acknowledging the tension between theological complexity, mystery, divine will, and human free will. What the Mādhyamika refutes is a specific metaphysical presupposition, not a religious denomination.
Misreading 7: Thinking that refuting "other-made" means "taking it easy," "letting go," "not caring."
Clarification: wrong. Refuting "other-made" is seeing the operation of causality more precisely, not becoming numb or indifferent to suffering. In fact, when you no longer need an "independent other" to absorb your explanation of suffering, you can observe the actual structure of conditions more finely and more patiently—including which specific causes can be adjusted, which specific conditions can be transformed. True "taking it easy" is not ceasing to look; it is looking more accurately.
Finally, back to the case of the Buddha's silent non-response. The naked ascetic Kāśyapa came with four questions, and the Buddha did not say a single word. That silence is not impotence; it is the deepest response—all four questions presuppose an independently self-existent "I" as either the cause or the recipient of suffering, and so every question has already fallen within a wrong view. There is no agent, there is no recipient, and apart from suffering there is no "author of suffering"—therefore one should know that suffering is itself emptiness (当知苦则是空). This "emptiness" (空, śūnyatā) does not negate the manifestation of suffering; it negates the existence of an independent author. It is the starting point of the path of liberation, and also the direction in which the path runs all the way to its end.