RELIGION AND VIOLENCE
The Oxford Handbook of RELIGION AND VIOLENCE
Edited by MARK JUERGENSMEYER , MARGO KITTS ,and MICHAEL JERRYSON
In recent studies, psychologists have found that the color orange releases more serotonin into our brain, which calms and relaxes us. It simply might be a coincidence that this hue is most frequently used for Buddhist monks’ robes in Asia; however, the sensation of calm is also associated with Buddhism itself. The saffron robes have become a trademark of Buddhism around the world. Their colors usually range from bright orange to dark brown to black (Japanese unsui ), depending on the ordination lineage of the school ( nikaya ). Corresponding to the neurological associations is the general conception that Buddhist traditions are irenic, encapsulated in the practice of meditation and complete withdrawal from worldly affairs ( lokiya ).
It is thus unusual to encounter such militant nomenclatures as Saffron Army or Saffron Revolution in the discussions of contemporary Buddhist monastic movements. Although some saffron armies, such as those of the Sri Lankan Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (People’s Liberation Front) are armed, others are not (Abeysekara, 2002, 222–229). In September 2007, Burmese Buddhist monks employed Gandhi’s nonviolent methods of protest against their government and were met with violence (Skidmore & Wilson, 2010; Schober, 2010). Whether violent or peaceful, these militant characterizations illustrate the Buddhist ambivalence toward violence.
Violence is a social phenomenon that pervades every religious tradition. In regard to physical acts of violence, there is a robust history of Buddhists who overview of religious traditions
commit suicide and engage in conflicts and wars. Buddhist monasteries have served as military outposts, monks have led revolts, and Buddhist principles have served as war rhetoric for heads of state. Some of these acts of violence draw on Buddhist scriptures; others invoke Buddhist symbols. In addition to Buddhism’s history of violence, Buddhist traditions globally influence religious acts of violence. Contemporary attacks of suicide martyrdom can be traced back to Japanese kamikazes during World War II, which influenced the communist-leaning Japanese Red Army. On May 30, 1972, Red Army gunmen Tsuyoshi Okudaira, Yasuyuki Yasuda, and Kozo Okamoto committed the first contemporary suicide attack in the Middle East during the Lod Airport Massacre in Israel (Reuter, 2004,
136–137). Perhaps the core element that draws Buddhist traditions into the social realm of violence is their identification: “I am a Buddhist,” which often is coterminous with a number of ethnic and national markers, (e.g., Tibetan Buddhist, Thai Buddhist, etc.). The construction of an identity requires the distinction between those within and outside the imagined community. This politicized element has been the genesis for many structural forms of violence over the centuries. In early South Asian societies, Buddhist traditions were aniconic and without strict identity markers, but as early as the first century ce , this changed. The crystallization of a Buddhist identity introduced adherents of the Buddhadharma (Buddhist teaching) to a new arena of politics and forms of alterity.
Since the third century bce , Buddhists have clashed with opponents of different faiths, Buddhists from different countries, and even Buddhists of different ordination lineages within the same country. On most occasions, the mixture of Buddhist authority and political power has provided the recipe for violence. Early scriptures were ambiguous as to the relationship between Buddhist principles and sovereignty, due in part to the crucial patronage of the Buddha by the north Indian monarchs of Magadha and Kosala in the fifth century bce . As states developed, Buddhist authority served to legitimize kings and rulers by
granting them religiopolitical titles such as chakravartin (universal rule; literally, “one who turns the wheel”) , dhammaraja (“ruler of the Buddhist doctrine”), or dalai lama (“ocean of wisdom”). Buddhist states use violence externally as well as internally. Early South Asian religious literature charged rulers with protecting their subjects from external forces (which involves warfare) and with upholding the law by inflicting physical punishments.
In the era of nation-states and nation building, Buddhists such as Tibetan, Thai, Cambodian, and Burmese consider their nationality intimately connected with Buddhism. Due to this collusion of identities, an attack on the nation becomes an attack on Buddhism (and vice versa). The issue of multiple interrelated identities raises a larger and more problematic question: What is Buddhism? Similar to other religions, the Buddhist system is a theoretical construct that becomes tradition through the imputation of culture. Officially there are more than 350 million Buddhists in the world; however, if we include unofficial estimates from China and other countries, there are over 1.3 billion adherents. There are Buddhist communities in more than 135 countries, and each community possesses unique
characteristics endemic toits school and location. In such a way, Buddhism is a global religious system that encompasses a canopy of people, rituals, scriptures, and beliefs. But what is the theoretical construct that binds these communities together? The Buddhist theoretical construct is predicated on the teachings of the Buddha. Buddhists worldwide take refuge in the Buddha, whether he is conceived as historical or
cosmological (Jerryson, 2010, 5). Although the teachings vary among Buddhist communities, all acknowledge the Four Noble Truths (Sanskrit: catvari aryasatyani; Pali: cattari ariyasaccani ): Life is suffering, there is a cause to this suffering, there is a cessation to this suffering, and there is a path to cessation. There is no uniform initiation into Buddhism as in the case of a Christian baptism or the Islamic declaration of faith ( shahadah ), although some Buddhist traditions have initiation rites. Perhaps the closest to a lay profession of faith in Buddhist traditions is to seek refuge in the three jewels (Sanskrit:
triratna; Pali: tiratana ): the Buddha, the Dhamma (the doctrine), and the Sangha (community that upholds the teachings). That said, Tantric practitioners take refuge in a fourth jewel: their guru. In drawing the parameters for Buddhist traditions, it is clear that there is a high variance of cultural practices and beliefs. This chapter will cover the history of Buddhist traditions and violence with special attention to the scriptural justifications, symbols, and actual manifestations of violence.
Ethical and Scriptural Justifications for Violence
Every global religion contains scriptural interdictions on violence; Buddhist traditions are no exception. There are numerous passages within Buddhist scriptures that uphold the notion of ahimsa (nonviolence) and equanimity. Nonetheless, like every other global religion, Buddhist traditions have adherents that commit violence and justify their acts with scriptures. These Buddhist scriptures either condone the use of violence or are hermeneutically ambiguous.
Most canonical sources lack a specified author because an indication of an author would impose a sense of temporality and reduce a scripture’s sacrality. Thankfully, the nature of these scriptures is not germane to this overview, rather what the scriptures say and the influence they carry are. Buddhist scriptures are organized into three baskets of texts (Sanskrit: Tripitaka ; Pali: Tipitaka ): the scriptures on monastics ( Vinaya ), the scriptures of
discourses (Sanskrit: Sutras ; Pali: Suttas ), and the scriptures of higher knowledge (Sanskrit: Abhidharma ; Pali: Abhidhamma ). The orthodox language in Theravada is Pali; the orthodox language in Mahayana and Vajrayana is Sanskrit. In addition, many important Buddhist scriptures are in the local or regional vernacular. Because Buddhist traditions began in South Asia in the fifth century bce , early Buddhist thought was largely influenced by South Asian worldviews that include
Brahmanism and Jainism. Each religious tradition that emerged from the subcontinent before the Christian era (or even the Buddhist era), was heavily influenced by the laws of action (Sanskrit: karma ; Pali: kamma ). Buddhism was no exception to this. According to Buddhist scriptures, a person accrues demerit through violent actions or even intentions to commit violence. The most severe of these actions is murder. The esteemed Buddhist scholar Paul Demi é ville argues that no other precept is so strictly followed by all Buddhists and went so far as to say that not killing is a characteristic “so anchored in Buddhism that it is practically considered a custom” (Demi é ville, 2010, 18). This custom is perhaps best understood as one of five moral precepts (Sanskrit: panchashila; Pali: panchasilani ), which are to abstain from killing sentient beings, stealing, lying, partaking of intoxicants that cloud the mind, and sexual misconduct. This practice is analogous to the five restraints ( yama ) in Hindu traditions, and underscores the social ethics of South Asian traditions. In addition to lay practices, there are canonical and commentarial sources throughout the different Buddhist schools that contain severe interdictions on violence. They also contain the exception to the rule. Analogous to Carl
Schmitt’s notions of Ausnahmezustand (state of exception), Buddhist exceptions empower or legitimate kings and rulers. These exceptions are not generated in a vacuum and did not remain simply “exceptions.” The scriptures that condone or justify violence are connected to physical acts of violence. Either Buddhist authors try to rationalize the previous violence of Buddhist rulers—such as the early Magadha king Ajatashatru who killed his father, Bimbisara—or condone the current acts of a Buddhist state (often in defense of the religion), such as the Japanese imperial violence from the start of the Meiji period (1868) and onward.
In most cases, the state of exception depends on three variables: the intention of the person who commits the violence (e.g, is it accidental or deliberate, and if deliberate, is the mind clear of hatred and avarice?), the nature of the victim (e.g., human, animal, or supernatural), and the stature of the one who commits the violence (e.g., is the person a king, soldier, or a butcher?). Buddhists have applied these variables to condone or, at times, even to advocate murder. Although there are some texts (Sanskrit: sutra ; Pali: sutta ) that traverse doctrinal boundaries, in order to preserve the distinctions between schools I will treat these exceptions within their doctrinal categories of Theravada (Path of the Elders), Mahayana (Great Vehicle) and Vajrayana (Diamond Vehicle) and, when necessary, indicate, regional specificities. Theravada Scriptures
The teachings of Theravada are predominantly practiced in Sri Lankan, Thai, Burmese, Cambodian, Lao and early Indian traditions. Within the Theravada doctrine ( dhamma ), violence is categorically condemned as an unwholesome act ( akusala ); however, there are degrees of condemnation, especially in regard to the state. Theravada doctrine on violence derives from the three baskets, which is commonly referred to as the Pali Canon and its commentaries. Since ordained men
and women model behavior as bearers of the dhamma, one of the ethical cornerstones in the Pali Canon is the Vinaya, the monastic codes. Interestingly, within the monastic tradition murder is ranked third out of four defeats ( parajika ) and results in permanent expulsion from the Sangha (the four defeats are sex, stealing, murder, and false claims of enlightenment). Although ranked third out of the four, murder is among the greatest sins ( adhamma ) a person can commit.
The Vinaya is replete with examples of violent scenarios. In most occasions, the prominent factors in the monk’s penalty are whether the act was successful or not, and (2) her/his intentionality. The nature of one’s kamma (literally, one’s action) is predicated on the outcome of the action; failed attempts to commit violence are penalized because of the intention but do not carry the full penalty of a successful action. Correspondingly, accidents are generally critiqued in Buddhist scriptures as a result of a lack of mindfulness, and the penalties are not as severe as deliberate acts of violence. The Buddhist emphasis on intention distinguishes the tradition from other regionally prominent religious traditions, such as Jainism. Intention
The first book of the Vinaya is the “Suttavibhanga,” or “The Analysis of the Rules.” It distinguishes the acts of manslaughter and attempted murder from the act of murder in numerous accounts. In one particular instance, an accidental death caused by pushing one’s father yields no offense; the failed attempt to kill one’s father by pushing him results in a grave offense. However, a death caused by the deliberate intention to kill results in expulsion (Horner, 1938, 139). The same rationale is applied to issues of euthanasia and abortion. If a monk or nun advocated a quick death or techniques to abort a pregnancy and the advice led to a death, the person was expelled from the Sangha. Advice that was not heeded carries lesser penalties. Insanity also plays a role in assessing the act of murder. In a previous life as the Brahman Lomakassapa, the Buddha killed hundreds of creatures but was not in the correct state of mind. Lomakassapa was “unhinged” with desire, and the text explains that a madman’s crimes are pardonable (Horner, 1963–1964, 14–17).
Nature of the Victim
Regardless of intention, a monk’s murder of a nonhuman does not result in expulsion. Monks who kill fearsome dryads ( yakkha ) and other nonhuman beings commit grave offenses ( thullaccaya ), which requires confessions (Horner, 1938, 146–147). The monk Udayin’s killing of crows (or of any other animal) also only merits a confession (Horner, 1942, 1).
The commentaries offer similar interpretations of offenses related to murder. The famous Indian scholar monk Buddhaghosa (fifth c. ce ) analyzed the monastic laws on murder in his Sumagala-vilasini and claimed: In the case of living creatures without [[[moral]]] virtues, such as animals, [the act of killing] is less blameworthy when the creature has a small body, and more blameworthy when the being has a large body. Why? Because the greater effort
[required] in killing a being with a large body; and even when the effort is the same, [the act of killing a large-bodied creature is still more blameworthy] because of its greater physical substance. In the case of beings that possess [[[moral]]] virtues, such as human beings, the act of killing is less blameworthy when the being is of little virtue and more blameworthy when the being is of great virtue. But when the body and virtue [of creatures] are equal, [the act of killing] is less blameworthy when the defilements and force of the effort are mild, more blameworthy when they are powerful. (Gethin, 171–172)
The Vinaya rules and Buddhaghosa’s accounts explain, among other things, Theravada dietary habits. Thai, Lao, Burmese, and Sri Lankan lay Buddhists will generally eat chicken and pork and avoid beef, because the cow is a much larger animal. They also provide an area of ambiguity in regard to humanity and virtue. This distinction between human/nonhuman and virtuous/nonvirtuous humans has been raised in other Buddhist sources.
One of the more popular accounts comes from the Sinhalese mythohistorical chronicle, the Mahavamsa . The Buddhist king Dutthagamani wages a just war against the Damil invaders led by King Elara. After a bloody and victorious battle, Dutthagamani laments for causing the slaughter of millions. Eight enlightened monks ( arahant ) comfort him with the explanation”
From this deed arises no hindrance in thy way to heaven. Only one and a half human beings have been slain here by thee, O lord of men. The one had come unto the (three) refuges, the other had taken on himself the five precepts. Unbelievers and men of evil life were the rest, not more to be esteemed than beasts. But as for thee, thou wilt bring glory to the doctrine of the Buddha in manifold ways; therefore cast away from thy
heart, O ruler of men! (Wilhelm, 178) The monks’ explanation includes the prerequisites discussed earlier for being a Buddhist, in this context the taking of the three refuges, and following the five moral precepts. By distinguishing Buddhists from non-Buddhists, the murders in this narrative are dismissed, since the non-Buddhists possess such little virtue they are on par with animals. Furthermore, the king has pure intentions with the desire to support and defend the Buddhist doctrine. The Mahavamsa’ s rationale and context was not overlooked by Sri Lankan Buddhists centuries later in their twenty-six year civil war against the Liberation Tamil Tigers of Eelam (LTTE, 1983–2009) and has permeated Southeast Asia as a form of rhetoric, such as during the Cambodia anticommunist campaign in the 1970s.
A similar rationale was used by the prominent Thai Buddhist monk Kittiwuttho in the 1970s during the Thai campaign against communism. For Kittiwuttho, a communist was a bestial type of a person and not a complete person at that. More importantly, her or his death served to support the Buddhist doctrine (Keyes, 1978, 153). Kittiwuttho drew on the Anguttara Nikaya , “To Kesi, the Horse Trainer,” to justify his stance on killing communists. Not widely used for this purpose, “To Kesi the Horse Trainer” is about the Buddha’s conversation with a horse trainer on the similarities between training people and horses. At one point, the Buddha explains that if a tamable person does not submit to any training, the untamable person
is killed. However, shortly after this statement the Buddha explains that death is meant as the Buddha’s abandonment of that person’s needs, thus meaning the death of the person’s ultimate potentiality (Thanissaro, 2010). While Kittiwuttho’s use of this text is problematic, it is demonstrative of how Buddhist exceptions have been applied to justify violence.
Stature of Those Who Kill
Monastic ethics serve as exemplary rules for others to model, but the 227 rules for Theravada monks are not required for the laity. Different roles merit different ethics; the ethics for a monk is not the same as it is for a butcher or a soldier (although butchers were noted for having to spend many anguishing lifetimes to redress their negative karma). As for soldiers, Buddhist scriptures remain ambiguous in certain places as to the ramifications of their occupations. Some impose restrictions on monastic interactions with soldiers or declare that soldiers may not ordain while serving the state, but most do not directly condemn a soldier for following her or his duty. Instead, what is repeatedly emphasized in the ethics of this position is the soldier’s state of mind.
One example of this comes from the fourth book and eighth chapter of the Samyutta Nikaya, “Gamanisamyutta” or the “Connected Discourses to Headmen.” The Buddha counsels a headman Yodhajiva, who is a mercenary under the assumption that mercenaries who strive and exert themselves in battles will be reborn in the heavens. The Buddha explains that, when a mercenary dies with the debased thoughts of slaughtering and killing other people, he is reborn in either the hell or animal realms (Bhikkhu Bodhi, 2000, 1334–1335). In this scenario, Yodhajiva is cautioned to avoid debased thoughts at the time of death but not to avoid the act of killing. This warning against ill thoughts is relevant whether a person commits an act of aggression or even an act of self-defense. However, the ambiguity about the act itself is present and is found in contemporary
contexts as well. In the recent civil war with the LTTE, Sri Lankan Buddhist monks preached to soldiers in order to suffuse their minds with mercy and compassion. Buddhist soldiers with “cool heads” are less apt to make mistakes on the battlefield and harm civilians (Kent, 2010, 172). A unique set of ethical parameters is for kings and just rule, which in the contemporary context apply to nation-states. According to the commentaries ( atthakatha ), Theravada’s earliest model of a just ruler was the Mauryan emperor Ashoka. After a successful and bloody campaign against the Kalinga in which more than 100,000 died and
150,000 were enslaved, Ashoka repented and turned to the Buddhist doctrine. Typically, Ashoka’s reign is praised after his turn to the Buddhist doctrine (and thus, after his conquests). However, Ashoka never disbanded his army after his Buddhist epiphany. He maintained the state policy of capital punishment and, according to literary records, killed more than 18,000 Jains and committed other atrocities well after his turn to righteous Buddhist kingship (Jenkins, 2010, 63). Early Buddhist scriptures tacitly support states, which may be due partly to the fact that the Buddha received most of his principle support in his early years from
the kingdoms of Magadha and Kosala. The Buddha’s relationship to the two kingdoms was stressed at times by their internecine conflict. As a moral and ethical liaison for both kingdoms, the Buddha responded on these occasions by condoning wars of defense over wars of aggression. This endorsement of defensive violence employs one of two modes on the ethics of state violence. According to Steven Collins, Theravada scriptures present on occasion a categorical imperative to avoid violence. On other occasions, the doctrine offers an ethics of just war through reciprocity; the Buddha counsels kings to administer judgments and punishments, but with a clear and calm mind (Collins, 1998, 420).
This latter mode is best evident in the 239th rebirth story of the Buddha, the “Harita-Mata-Jataka,” or the “Blue-Green Frog Birth Story,” in which the Buddha addresses a recent attack by the kingdom of Kosala on the kingdom of Magadha. As in other rebirth stories, the narrative serves as a didactic for the particular context as well as general readership. The story tells of a water snake that falls into a trap and is attacked by a throng of fish. Appealing to a blue-green frog for help, the frog, which is the Buddha-to-be, replies to the entrapped snake, “[i]f you eat fish that get into your demesne, the fish eat you when you get into theirs. In his own place, and district, and feeding ground, no one is weak.” Following the frog’s explanation, the fish seize and kill the snake (Cowell, 1895, 165).
Ethics of state violence are mentioned several times in the The Questions of King Milinda. Throughout the text, the Indo-Greek king Menander I questions the Buddhist monk Nagasena about Buddhist principles. In the fourth book, called “The Solving of Dilemmas,” the king lists eight classes of men who kill living beings: lustful men, cruel men, dull men, proud men, avaricious men, needy men, foolish men, and kings in the way of punishment (Davids, 17). As in the case of the other seven types of men, a king by his nature adjudicates punishments and kills living beings.
This aspect of rule is further described in a later conversation, when the king explains that, if a man has committed a crime, the people would request that the criminal be deprived of goods, bound, tortured, put to death, or beheaded (Davids, 239). In neither conversation does Nagasena dispute the king’s views on murder, and the presence of these duties in a book on Buddhist ethics is unmistakably notable. This approach to just rule is found in other canonical sources such as the twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh books of the Digha Nikaya, “The Sermon on the Knowledge of Beginnings,” and “The Lion’s Roar at the Turning of the Wheel.” In both books, the king is entrusted with the moral responsibility to uphold the law and mete out punishments. Balkrishna Gokhale argues that early Buddhist thinkers had a Weberian conception of the state: “For them the state is an organization of force or violenc
e the possession of which is largely restricted to the king and his instruments” (251). While this concept of the state was taken for granted by early Buddhist thinkers, it became emboldened by modern Buddhist advocates and rulers, such as the Sri Lankan government in its indiscriminate use of force against the LTTE and the
Thai state and its use of l è se majest é to impose corporal punishment on those who disrespect the Buddhist monarchy.
The Mahayana doctrine can be found primarily among Indian, Chinese, Korean, Japanese, and Vietnamese traditions, and its scriptures cover a vast array of subschools and corresponding soteriologies. Mahayana’s doctrinal stances on violence are similar to those found in Theravada in many respects. Its scriptures condemn violence and hold murder as an unwholesome act ( akushala ). In some Mahayana traditions, this abhorrence of violence requires that practitioners maintain a strict vegan diet. Yet ethical exceptions also exist in Mahayana doctrine. Most of the exceptions in regard to these variables derive from two
principal ideas within Mahayana: skill in means ( upaya ) and emptiness ( shunyata ). Mahayana ethics on violence are found primarily within the second of the three baskets ( Tripitaka ), the Sutras , and the commentaries. Some traditions refer to multiple sources in their ethical discussions, while other traditions base their ethics solely on one text, such as the Perfection of Wisdom texts ( Prajnaparamita ) or the Lotus Sutra . Although there are some commentators, such as Asanga and Vasubandhu, who address violence within their treatment of ethics, most of the scriptures on violence are in a narrative style.
Even though Mahayana notions of skill in means and emptiness provide justifications for violence, or in these instances murder, the actors must not have ill thoughts or intentions when they perform the violence. Rather, their intentions should be compassionate and imbued with skill in means. In this vein, most exceptions require that the actor be a bodhisattva — an enlightened being. However, this is not always the case; in some cases the absence of any ill intent is sufficient to pardon an act of violence. In Chan Buddhism, the Treatise of Absolute Contemplation explains that murderous acts are analogous to brush fires.
“The man who renders his mind similar [to the forces of nature] is entitled to do equally as much” (Demi é ville, 2010, 56). Likewise, Japanese Zen interpretations of killing stress the vacuity of the act. Killing puts an end to the passions of a person’s mind and fosters the Buddha-nature within (ibid., 44). Intentionality is a critical component in Mahayana ethics of violence. It is not simply whether a person engages in an accidental or deliberate action, but there are also exceptions that allow for intentional violence.
At times, violence by lay practitioners is permitted; of particular note is the act of suicide in the Chinese traditions. Within the Chinese traditions, the Lotus Sutra provides a literary blueprint for self-immolation practices. The chapter
“The Original Acts of the Medicine King,” tells of a bodhisattva who covers himself with oil and fragrance, wraps his body in oil-soaked clothes, and burns himself (the self-immolation lasts for 1,200 years). The Buddha explains to the reader that the bodhisattva’s act is one that anyone meritorious may do: Gifts of his own body, such as this one, number in the incalculable hundreds of thousands of myriads of millions of nayutas . O Beflowered by the King of Constellations! If there is one who, opening up his thought, wishes to attain anuttarasamyaksa m � bodhi [consummation of incomparable wisdom], if he can burn a finger or even a toe as an offering to a Buddhast ? pa [[[Buddhist]] relic shrine], he shall exceed one who uses realm or walled, wife or children, or even all the lands, mountains, forests, rivers, ponds, and sundry precious objects in the whole thousand-millionfold world as offerings. (Benn, 2007, 61)
Here, the exception to intended violence is the conscious sacrifice of one’s body. Suicide is also noted in other sources such as the “Hungry Tigress Jataka,” in which the Buddha-to-be offers his body to a starving tigress so that she may feed her cubs. Skill in means is a method employed by awakened beings to help others awaken. Perhaps the most famous example of this comes from a section in chapter 3 of the Lotus Sutra , “The Burning House.” The Lotus Sutra is one of
the core scriptures in the Chinese Tiantai and the Japanese Tendai and Nichiren schools and is considered a sacred text. In the text, the Buddha tells a parable to his disciple Sariputra about an old man and his children. The man attempts to rescue his children from a burning building, but they are enthralled by their games and do not heed his warnings. In order to get them to leave, he promises them three gifts; when they escape the building, they receive the greatest of these gifts. Sariputra praises the Buddha and correctly interprets that the man should not be condemned for lying, even if he had not given the children any gifts. His action was just because he was trying to liberate the children from a very painful experience.
The Lotus Sutra provides not only the strategy of skill in means but also ambiguous excerpts on violence. In 1279 ce , Nichiren writes to his devoted samurai follower, Shijo Kingo, and explains that Shijo’s faith in the Lotus Sutra helped saved him from a recent ambush. He enjoins Shijo to employ the strategy of the Lotus Sutra in his future work and quotes a section from chapter 23 of the Lotus Sutra : “‘All others who bear you enmity or malice will likewise be wiped out.’ These golden words will never prove false. The heart of strategy and swordsmanship derives from the Mystic Law. Have profound faith. A coward cannot have any of his prayers answered” (Nichiren 2009, 1001).
The sentence quoted from the Lotus Sutra is generally regarded as metaphorical, but in this context Nichiren applies it literally in his address to a samurai about past and future acts of violence. Another seemingly metaphorical use of violence is found in the Chinese text The Sutra of the Forty-two Sections. In one of the aphorisms by the Buddha, the text compares fighting in battle with attaining the Way: A man practicing the Way is like a lone man in combat against ten thousand. Bearing armor and brandishing weapons, he charges through the gate eager to
do battle, but if he is weakhearted and cowardly he will withdraw and flee . . . . If a man is able to keep a firm grip on his wits and advance resolutely, without becoming deluded by worldly or deranged talk, then desire will disappear and evil will vanish, and he is certain to attain the Way. (Sharf, 1996, 370) The use of war as a metaphor was also used by the Indian Buddhist monk Shantideva in his commentary, Engaging in Bodhisattva Behavior. However, in neither the Lotus Sutra nor the Sutra of the Forty-Two Sections (or even in Engaging in Bodhisattva Behavior ) do we find direct advocacy of violence; instead we encounter ambiguous passages for such an interpretation.
Perhaps the most extreme measure of skill in means to justify violence is found in the chapter “Murder with Skill in Means: The Story of the Compassionate Ship’s Captain” from the Upayakaushalya Sutra , or the Skill-in-Means Sutra . In one of his many previous births, the Buddha is the captain of a ship at sea and is told by water deities that a robber onboard the ship intends to kill the five hundred passengers and the captain. Within a dream, the deities implore the captain to use skill in means to prevent this, since all five hundred men are future bodhisattvas and the murder of them would invoke on the robber immeasurable lifetimes in the darkest hells. The captain, who in this text is named Great Compassionate (Mahakarunika), wakes and contemplates the predicament for seven days. He eventually rationalizes:
“There is no means to prevent this man from slaying the merchants and going to the great hells but to kill him” And he thought, “If I were to report this to the merchants, they would kill and slay him with angry thoughts and all go to great hells themselves.” And he thought, “If I were to kill this person, I would likewise burn in the great hells for one hundred-thousand eons because of it. Yet I can bear to experience the pains of the great hells, that this person not slay these five hundred merchants and develop so much evil karma . I will kill this person myself.” (Tatz 1994, 74)
The captain subsequently murders the robber, and the Buddha explains, “For me, sa m � s ? ra was curtailed for one hundred-thousand eons because of that skill in means and great compassion. And the robber died to be reborn in world of paradise” (ibid.). Here, the skill in means is motivated by compassion, which ameliorated the karmic results of murder.
Nature of the Victim
The School of Emptiness ( shunyavada ) derives its teachings in part from the pan-Buddhist positions of no-self (Sanskrit: anatman; Pali: anatta ) and of the two truths model: conventional truth and ultimate truth. Buddhists recognize that there isno eternal self (or, no-soul) and that everything we perceive in this world is impermanent and thus constitutes conventional truth. The philosopher Nagarjuna is the most prominent and respected advocate of this principle and extends the idea of no-self to reality in its entirety, claiming that all phenomena are empty of essence. While emptiness serves to explain reality ontologically and epistemologically, it also provides a lens for valuing human life. This line of reasoning
raises the query: If human life is empty of any true nature, what is destroyed in a murder?
One element that is commonly presented when justifying murder is the dehumanization of the intended victim(s). This dehumanization is present in Theravada when monks consider communists or the followers of the Tamil king Elara less than human and thus meritoriously expendable. Within Mahayana doctrine, some humans are designated as icchantikas, those who are those barred from enlightenment. Mahayana doctrine typically advocates proselytizing, with people undertaking the bodhisattva vows to work toward liberating all sentient beings ( bodhicitta ). This all-
encompassing ethos has an exception with the icchantika. Considered the most vile and debased creatures, they have either committed the worst of deeds or repudiated the basic tenets of the doctrine; they are classified at a lower level than animals. Some texts, such as the Chinese version of the Mahayana Mahaparinirvana Sutra, consider it more harmful to kill an ant than an icchantika. Within this text, the Buddha explains that no negative karma accrues from killing them: “Just as no sinful karma [will be engendered] when one digs the ground, mows grass, fells trees, cuts corpses into pieces and scolds and whips them, the same is true when one kills an icchantika , for which deed [also] no sinful karma [will arise].” (Ming-Wood 1984, 68)
Perhaps the most extreme religious rhetoric of dehumanization occurs within Mahayana doctrine: If a person is empty of substance, what is being murdered? One scripture that offers an answer is the Chinese text called the Susthitamati-Paripriccha , which is often referred to as How to Kill with the Sword of Wisdom . Within the text, the fully enlightened being Manjushri explains to the Buddha that, if one were to conceive of sentient beings as only names and thoughts, she or he should kill those names and thoughts. However, as long as a person clears the mind of
holding a knife or killing, to kill the “thoughts of a self and a sentient being is to kill sentient beings truly. [If you can do that,] I will give you permission to cultivate pure conduct [with me].” (Chang, 1983, 65). Later in the text, Manjushri attempts to assuage bodhisattvas of their guilt from committing violence and advances to kill the Buddha with his sword. The Buddha explains that there is neither killing nor killer. Hence, Manjushri does not suffer any negative repercussions for attempting to kill the Buddha, since ultimately “there is no sword and no karma and no retribution, who performs that karma and who will undergo the karmic retribution?”
(Chang, 1983, 69). The acts in this reality are empty of true existence; therefore violence is empty of any true repercussion. Another Chinese text, The Catharsis of Ajatashatru’s Remorse, justifies an act of matricide in a similar fashion. Manjushri defends the criminal and explains that since the actor’s thoughts were empty at the time of the deed, he should be exonerated (Demi é ville 2010, 42). Status of Those Who Kill In some texts, killing or war is justified so long as it is done to defend the religion. In the Tibetan version of the Mahayana Mahaparinirvana Sutra, Buddhists,
especially kings, are expected to take up weapons and fight to defend their religion (Schmithausen, 1999, 57–58). Similar to Theravada doctrine, Mahayana doctrine contains different ethics for rulers than for lay practitioners. The Mongolian text White History of the Tenfold Virtuous Dharma instructs rulers to destroy those against the Buddhist teachings and to implement harsh measures when necessary (Wallace, 2010, 93). The South Asian Arya-Bodhisattva-gocara-upayavisay a-vikurvana-nirdesha Sutra (Satyakaparivarta), which is loosely translated at The Noble Teachings through Manifestations on the Subject of Skill-in-Means within the Bodhisattva’s Field of Activity, also provides instructions for rulers, which includes ways to administer Buddhist-sanctioned torture, capital punishment, and other forms of violence. In the text, the king is warned to avoid the exercise of excessive compassion and to imprison, terrorize, beat, bind, or harm “uncivilized people” (Jenkins, 2010, 64).
Mahayana doctrine provides a similar structure of exceptions for violence as Theravada. However, the principles of emptiness and skill in means create a distinctive set of ethical considerations. These principles are shared in Vajrayana doctrine, which is often said to have evolved out of Mahayana doctrine.
Vajrayana is a contested term, and scholars are not in agreement as to the traditions that fall under its canopy. Some scholars argue that it is principally an offshoot of Mahayana doctrine that is specifically Tibetan and Mongolian, while others identify the term with similar appellations such as Tantrayana or Mantrayana and consider the term to include Indian, Nepali, Tibetan, Mongolian, and Japanese traditions. Whether one considers Vajrayana a Tibetan nomenclature or a descriptor of various traditions, it inevitably involves tantras. Tantra is another term that is highly contested, and a replete discussion of it would stretch beyond the parameters of this chapter.
Tantra texts often prescribe transgressive actions. For the tantrika, if one is bound by conventional taboos, then s/he is not truly free of the world and its fetters. Often acts of transgression are sexual or violent in nature. In addition to its transgressive inclinations, Tantra texts are intended to be esoteric. Most traditions require special ordinations for their initiates and gurus to explain the doctrine. This complexity adds several lays to the texts and often leads to the Buddhist hermeneutics of provisional meanings ( neyartha ) and definitive meanings (
nitartha ). With the help of one’s guru, provisional meaning can be discarded for the highest truth of the scripture. Some texts, such as the Indian and Tibetan Kalachakra Tantra ( Wheel of Time Tantra ), may prescribe violence, but this is argued to be a provisional interpretation. When the text encourages readers to kill, lie, steal, and commit adultery, commentators explain the metaphorical nature of it (Broido, 1988, 100). In this vein, a venture into an ethics of violence is fraught with distinct hermeneutical challenges.
Vajrayana doctrine is suffused with texts and commentaries that reject the use of violence. Many of the Tantra texts criticize Hindu texts and their position on animal sacrifices, or their contextual advocacy of justified violence in the Bhagavad Gita and other sources. Vajrayana texts offer arguments that are quite similar in nature to those that they critique. For instance, the Tibetologist Jacob Dalton locates in the Kalika Purana detailed instructions for human sacrifices to Kali or to the heruka Buddha and his mandala assembly. In such cases, the position in which the severed head comes to rest reveals signs of a kingdom’s success (Dalton, 90).
The seemingly contradictory status of Vajrayana texts serves as a poignant reminder that texts are not ahistorical and bereft of contexts; rather, they were born at different times, from people with various schools of thought. The texts display various accounts for justified violence. Of particular distinctive prominence among the texts are those pertaining to intentionality, such as defensive violence and liberation killing, and the stature of those who kills, which is primarily found in the bodhisattva.
Many of Vajrayana’s ethical foundations for justified violence are coterminous with those in Mahayana doctrine. One motif that justifies violence in Vajrayana scriptures is defense; one of the most ubiquitous of reasons to commit violence. The questions arise though: What are the determinations of the aggression that necessitates the defense, and what does that defense entail? Within Vajrayana scriptures, defense is mounted through rituals of sacrifice and cosmic battles. Tantra texts that range from ritual to practical and yogic purposes. Most germane to our discussion is the Tantric ritual goals, which involve the pacification of diseases, enemies, and emotions; augmentation of money, power, and merit; control of opponents, gods, and passions; and the killing of enemies, gods, sense of self, and so on (Davidson, 2005, 35). Among the defensive rituals is the rite of fire sacrifice ( abhichara-homa ), which in the Indian Mahavairochana-abhisambodhi Tantra subdues hated foes.
There are disparate but concerted commentaries on the fire sacrifice that expand on its transgressive and violent nature. The Indian Buddhist scholar-monk Bhavyakirti writes on the Cakrasamvara Tantra: Then the destruction of all, arising from the vajra, is held [to be accomplished] with the great meat. It is the dreadful destroyer of all the cruel ones. Should one thus perform without hesitation the rites of eating, fire sacrifice ( homa ), and sacrificial offerings ( bali ) with the meats of dogs and pigs, and also [the meat of] those [chickens] that have copper [colored] crests, everything without exception will be achieved, and all kingdoms will be subdued. (Gray, 2007, 252) Whereas Bhavyakirti’s commentary invokes the violent sacrifice of animals for defensive purposes, other texts have more inclusive and aggressive positions. Vajrayana doctrine differs considerably from Theravada doctrine on the killing of animals, especially for dietary purposes. In Mongolian and Tibetan traditions,
adherents are encouraged to eat larger animals instead of smaller ones. The death of one large animal such as a cow could feed many, whereas the death of one shrimp would not satisfy a person.
Defense does not pertain to simply threats of the state but also include preemptive attacks due to an imminent cosmic war. The most notable of these is found in the Indian and Tibetan Kalachakra Tantra, referred to as the Wheel of Time Tantra. As mentioned by the Buddhologist Lambert Schmithausen, the text describes an eschatological war in which the army of the bodhisattva king of Shambhala finally conquers and annihilates the Muslim forces in order to destroy their barbarian religion and to reestablish Buddhism. We should not overlook the historical context of this text; it is estimated by scholars that it was composed during the Muslim invasions of northern Indian in the eleventh century.
In some texts, the Mahayana principle of skill in means is applied to show violence as a redemptive act, which is often referred to as liberation killing. Such is the case of the bodhisattva Vajrapani, who kills the Hindu god Mahesvara and revives him as an enlightened follower of the Buddha. Tibetan Buddhists from the Nyingma school have killing rituals that are meant to liberate their enemies (Mayer, 1996, 108). The
Sarvadurgatiparishodhana Tantra, translated as The Purification of All Misfortunes, advocates the killing of those “who hate the Three Jewels, those who have a wrong attitude with regards to the Buddha’s teachings or disparage the [[[Vajrayana]]] masters” (Schmithausen 1999, 58). This position is partly justified through the notion of compassion, where killing an evil person prevents that person from committing further negative actions (karma).
One of the most famous of these examples comes from the Tibetan Chos ‘byung me tog snying po , which details the Buddhist assassination of the Tibetan ruler Lang Darma in 841. At the time, the Tibetan king Lang Darma oversaw policies that reduced the power and control of monasteries and was viewed as anti- Buddhist. The author Nyang Nyi ma ‘od relates that the Buddhist monk received a vision from a protective Buddhist deity, who directed him to kill the ruler. This killing both liberated the country from an anti-Buddhist ruler and also liberated the ruler—through his
murder. The narrative of this liberation killing is part of the Tibetan collective memory, and the murder is recalled in ritual yearly in Tibetan monasteries in their dance—the cham (Meinert, 2006, 100–101). This violent practice of liberation did not end in the ninth century, nor was it restricted to ignoble kings. The presence of Tibetan Buddhist Tantric ritual killings and blood sacrifice was widespread enough for King Yeshe O (942–1024) to publicly oppose them and to argue hermeneutically for a distinction between the tantric practices of liberation rites and sacrifice (Dalton, 106–108).
Stature of Those Who Kill
Among the Vajrayana foundational principles is the Mahayana conception of the bodhisattva, a being who is either enlightened or on the path to enlightenment. In some texts, these individuals, who are endowed with perfected compassion and
wisdom, gain the benefits from an ethical double standard. As seen in the scriptures about the bodhisattva Manjushri, ordinary people are bound by the provisional ethics; however, bodhisattvas may do anything, even commit murder. Fully enlightened beings are not hindered by the attachments of ill thoughts, so their actions are different from others. In addition, they use skill in means to liberate people and protect the religion. Within the Mergen Gegen tradition, Tibetan lamas identified the Mongol emperor Chinggis (Ghengis Khan) as an incarnation of the
bodhisattva Vajrapani. As Vajrapani, his function is to protect Buddhism and destroy heretics. This rationale applies to Tantric masters: Buddhist yogis. In the Tibetan Song of the Queen Spring , the Fifth Dalai Lama explains that advanced Buddhist yogis can commit just acts of violence because of their command over mental states and emotions (Maher, 2010, 85). It is in this context that the Fifth Dalai Lama justifies violence committed by his school’s protector, the Mongol ruler Gushri Khan. In addition to the fact that Gushri Khan was defending the dharma, the Fifth Dalai Lama explains that the ruler was a bodhisattva (ibid., 88).
Symbolic Representations of Violence
The Four Noble Truths focus on suffering (Sanskrit: dukkha ; Pali: duhkha ), a painful theme that serves as the bedrock for Buddhist worldviews. Although the Four Noble Truths discuss the suffering of the world (and the need to liberate oneself from it), there is violent rhetoric, imagery, and legends in Buddhist traditions as well. Some of these are global, whereas others are culturally specific to their locality. Whether global or locally relevant, symbolic representations of violence are generally found in eschatological accounts, legends about nemeses, or Tantric imagery.
Military metaphors and similes abound in Buddhist scriptures. We find examples these in places such as the Dhammapada, where the “conqueror of the battlefield” is compared to the “conqueror of the self,” or in the Lotus Sutra with references to bodhisattvas who conquer the evil one, Mara. One of the most the more popular parables, the “Chulamalunkya Sutta” in the Majjhima Nikaya, uses the example of a soldier to illustrate the distinction between beneficial and unbeneficial questions. The Buddha discusses the problems of a soldier wounded by a poisoned arrow. The soldier is more intent on learning who shot the arrow and why than on addressing the imminent issue of the poison and dying. Often times, military metaphors and similes are related to kingship in Theravada scriptures (Bartholomeusz, 2002, 41).
The Buddhist system presents time as cyclical in nature but linear in its progression. In this manner there is no ultimate end time, rather a beginning and an end to every cycle. Throughout Buddhist and Hindu societies there is the general consensus that we are living in the fourth era: the age of destruction ( kali yuga ).
According to Buddhist scriptures, the end of a cycle is signaled by the disappearance of the teachings and the marking of a new cycle. At times, Buddhist relics symbolically mark the new cycle, such as the reconstitution of the Buddha’s bones ( sarira ), the coming of the next Buddha (Sanskrit: Maitreya ; Pali: Metteya) , or the reappearance of his begging bowl and robes (in some cases, the destruction of the Buddha’s begging bowl signals the end). Millenarian movements are not necessarily violent, but the ones that are violent use these and other signs to justify their actions.
Often, violent millenarian movements invoke the imagery and rhetoric of Mara, the maker of death and desire. In the narrative of the Buddha’s enlightenment, Mara is his principal adversary, who tries to prevent the Buddha from reaching enlightenment. Violent millenarian movements invoke Mara as their adversary, such as the one led by the Chinese Buddhist monk Faqing in 515. Faqing announced the coming of the new Buddha, Maitreya, and commanded 50,000 men to battle against the forces of Mara. The more people a soldier killed, the more he advanced in the prescribed bodhisattva paradigm (Demi é ville, 2010, 25). Mara is one of the elite among Buddhist literary adversaries. Another nemesis in
Buddhist lore is the Buddha’s cousin Devadatta, who vied for control of the Sangha and has become a literary scapegoat. In many scriptures, he tries to repudiate the Buddha’s authority and to kill him. In one famous encounter present in children’s books, Devadatta sends a crazed and furious elephant named Nalagiri at the Buddha. The elephant comes close to crushing a baby in its path, but the Buddha intervenes and calms the wild elephant. Of all his actions, the worst Devadatta purportedly committed were causing a schism in the Sangha, killing a nun, and wounding the Buddha. This last act resulted in the earth swallowing up Devadatta and condemning him to Avichi, the darkest of hells. Often, religious persecutors call on the memory of Devadatta to denounce Buddhist practitioners and their practices as heretical.
The violent and persecuted caricature of Devadatta is almost the reversal of another person who tried to kill the Buddha. Angulimala was a robber who had committed himself to completing his vow of killing 1,000 people. Angulimala had a necklace of fingers, one finger for every death, and as it turned out, his last intended victim was the Buddha. On meeting the Buddha, Angulimala renounced his bloody path and joined the Sangha. During his time in the Sangha, Angulimala endures attacks from lay communities but attains enlightenment under the guidance of the Buddha. Images of Angulimala represent the far-reaching redemptive power of the Buddhist path for the most violent of initiates.
In the Sri Lankan Mahavamsa’ s legendary war between the Buddhist king Dutthagamani and the forces of King Elara, Dutthagamani wields a royal spear endowed with a Buddhist relic. During scriptural accounts of battles, rulers are purportedly given amulets or relics that sacralize their weapons. Most of the time, these weapons or artifacts bestow on a person protection. In Thailand, soldiers believe that by consuming the wild animal one may absorb their spiritual and physical prowess. They wear various amulets, often images of Buddhist saints that
prepare them for battle; some shield them from bullets while others repel bombs. These amulets became transnational commodities during the US war in Vietnam, when Thai Buddhist soldiers shared their amulets with US soldiers (Richard, 2011, 134 and 189).
Buddhist images are suffused with brilliant colors and complex lines. Like the doctrine, Tantric imagery is remarkably complex and contains several interpretative layers. Sand mandalas represent the microcosm of the body and the macrocosm of the universe, all the while reminding us of their impermanence. The Buddhist pantheon contains violent depictions of deities, bodhisattvas, and spirits—many wield bloody weapons with
ferocious countenances such as the skull-crowned Mahakala. The bovine-headed Yama, the lord of death, is killed by the bovine-headed Yamantaka (which means “terminator of Yama”). There is even Kojin, the fiery, fanged bow-and-arrow-wielding Japanese god of the hearth. These violent depictions most often are meant not for practitioners but for the evil spirits that would prey on the practitioner, or they serve the metaphoric purposes of attacking the negative qualities within ourselves.
There are also myths about demons that are ritually murdered but are reborn as protectors of Buddhism. This transformation from foe into protector illustrates the power of compassionate violence. This notion of violence as a means of burning away the vices of an entity transcends Buddhist traditions (it is quite common with the use of Agni, god of fire, in Vedic and Hindu traditions). However, it has become a central theme for some Buddhist traditions. One prominent example comes from a Tibetan Buddhist foundational myth found in the Nyingma Compendium of
Intentions Sutra in which Tantric buddhas battle with the demon Rudra. Tibetan Buddhist scholar Jacob Dalton considers the murder of Rudra “essential for anyone seeking to understand the place of violence in Tibetan Buddhism” (Dalton, 3). After numerous rebirths and confrontations, the conflict ends when a heruka buddha plunges a trident into Rudra’s chest and swallows him whole. Within the heruka’s stomach, Rudra is purified (Dalton, 19–21). From Rudra’s subjugation, death, and then rebirth emerges a protector deity of Tibetan Buddhism. This motif of demon into protector is found in other myths and legends, such as cannibalistic evil spirits who protect the Lotus Sutra , the sword-wielding Dorje Shugden that protects Tibet and its people, and damned Cittipatti, skeletons who after living lives of sin and misdeeds must work off their negative karma and guard the entrances to Tibetan and Mongolian Buddhist sites.
In addition to the Tantric images that contain violent figures, there are other images of notoriously nonviolent deities and bodhisattvas that are placed in violent contexts. When the Manchus conquered the Mongols in the late seventeenth century, they considered their rule an emanation of the bodhisattva of wisdom, Manjushri, even in their use of the death penalty (Wallace, 2010, 96–97). The benevolent image of Manjushri is seen in other contexts, such as in tenth-century Japan, when Tendai abbot called on monks to embody Manjushri by carrying bows and arrows into battle. A thousand years later, the Japanese gave the bodhisattava
of compassion, Avalokiteshvara, the rank of a shogun or generalissimo in World War II (Victoria, 2006, 142).
Although Tantric rituals of defense invoke symbolic (and actual) violence on animal sacrifices, the bulwark of symbolic violence comes from narratives and images. Buddhist traditions have their share of violent symbols, relics, and images, but a cursory reviewof these also reveals the dominant presence of context. Even the most peaceful of images, such as Avalokiteshvara, the bodhisattva of compassion, may become associated with violence given the specific circumstances.
People commit various atrocitiespon themselves and others, but what is distinctive about their violence that makes the actions Buddhist? To return to the parameters drawn earlier, Buddhists are people who follow the Four Noble Truths and hold the Buddha as the penultimate figure/deity. However, being Buddhist does not necessarily mean that one’s acts are “Buddhist”; rather, Buddhist worldviews and codes of conduct influence one’s behavior. Various Buddhist elements are embedded in acts of violence. Tanks have patrolled with Buddhist amulets on them,
monasteries have served as military compounds for soldiers, and monastic Buddhist reliquaries (stupas) and pagodas have been used for military defenses. However, to narrow our focus, the most notably “Buddhist” acts are human actions that reflect the core values of the religion: The Three Jewels of Buddha, Dhamma and Sangha (or in Tantric Buddhism, the Four Jewels). Self-proclaimed bodhisattvas, arahants and buddhas (Buddha) have engaged in violence, violent acts are done in the name of Buddhist teaching (Dhamma), and monks have committed violence (sangha). This section will review these elements in regard to war, punishment, and social control.
Buddhists have engaged in wars since the time of Ashoka in the third century bce . These wars contain a myriad of causes and factors but become sanctified to the participants through enlightened leaders, Buddhist rhetoric (dhamma/dharma), and Buddhist monks. Most Buddhist-inspired wars are either the result of a closely aligned monasticism and state or a movement that contains millenarian elements. It was in the first century ce that Buddhist monks brought their traditions to China. Three hundred years later, there were Chinese Buddhist millenarian revolts and insurrections, often led by monks. Buddhist-inspired revolts also occurred under the Tabgatch Empire against the villainous Mara (402–517 ce ), and messianic
monks rebelled during the Sui and Tang dynasties (613–626). It was in the Tang Dynasty that Faqing led his soldier-monks on a revolt in which ten deaths would enable them to complete their bodhisattva path (815). The White Lotus Society incorporated messianic elements into its Pure Land practices. By the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, they had staged armed uprisings to establish their own states and to overthrow the Mongol Dynasty.
Mahayana Buddhist traditions were transported from China to Korea in the fourth century ce . Korea embraced Buddhist practices during the bloody Chinese interregnum (220–589 ce .). The nascent Silla kingdom credited Buddhist protectors for causing the Chinese to make peace with them in 671 ce . Then Koreans brought Buddhist practices and beliefs to Japan in the sixth century ce . In Japan, powerful Buddhist monasteries gradually emerged, and armies were solicited to protect their landholdings. The close political ties between monasteries and state in the Heian period (794–1185 ce ) drew monks into conflicts. During the twelfth century, Chinese and Korean monks fought in wars against the Jurchens, the Mongols, and the Japanese. In the next century, Japanese Shin adherents fought apocalyptic battles over Amita paradise.
Within the Theravada traditions, Thai chronicles in the sixteenth century reveal monks as spies and conspirators. From 1699 until the mid 1950s, Lao and Thai holy men ( phumibun ) staged dozens of messianic revolts against Thailand. The leaders claimed to possess extraordinary powers and drew on the lore of Phra Si Ariya, the Thai version of Maitreya, the Buddha-to-be (Nartsupha, 1984, 112). This claim of supernatural powers was not solely a phenomenon of revolts. The Thai king Taksin liberated his people from Burmese occupation in 1767 and declared himself a stream enterer—the first of four stages to sainthood in Theravada Buddhism. Monks became warriors in Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Thai, and Sri Lankan
traditions. Perhaps the most widely known of these are the Shaolin monks of the Chinese Chan tradition, who developed martial arts for meditation and fighting. Japanese peasants, inspired by Pure Land teachings, fought a battle of cosmic relevance to promote a Buddhist paradise during the Warring States period of the 1500s, and Japanese Zen monks fought as soldiers in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904 and 1905 (Victoria, 2006). Within the Tibetan traditions there is a fraternity of fighter monks ( ldab ldob ). Although these monks are not soldiers, they equip themselves with at least one weapon. They are notable fighters and have served in special all-Tibetan frontier forces in the Indian Army of the Republic. In recent years, Thai soldiers serve in covert operations as military monks ( tahan phra ). Unbeknownst to their abbots, these men fully ordain and retain their military status, guns, and monthly stipends (Jerryson 2011, 116–127).
In the colonial and postcolonial periods, Buddhists rebelled against the predominantly Christian colonialists and reasserted their identities. Burmese monks such as U Ottama led anticolonial movements against the British in the 1930s. During the early 1940s, Korean monks equated the United States’ growing military influence with “Christian power” and sought to cleanse the world from demons and the evil of Mara (Tikhonov 2009, 8). Their sentiments were mirrored by Chinese Buddhists during the Korean War (1951–1953). Influential Chinese monks like Ven. Juzan challenged Chinese Buddhists to fulfill their patriotic duty and assist North Korea by resisting the encroachment of US influence, which he saw as the same as subduing evils (Xue Yu, 2010, 142). However, Korean Buddhist movements against external forces turned internal in the 1950s. Korean Buddhist Chogye monks engaged in bloody conflicts with married monks over the issue of celibacy, claiming that monastic marriage practices were a by-product of Japanese colonialism. In
the twentieth century, monks became part of the intelligentsia that supported socialist revolutions. In the early 1900s, Mongolian monks were principal members of the socialist revolutionary party (Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party). After the revolution, the government embraced a more militant socialism and targeted and killed tens of thousands of monks (Jerryson 2007, 93). In a similar fashion, Cambodian monks were also early supporters of Pol Pot’s efforts, only to find themselves victims after the regime was installed. Communist movements such as these concerned Thai Buddhists. One of the most notable political activists was Kittiwuttho, who in the 1970s called on Thais to eradicate the communist rebels.
During the US war in Vietnam (1963–1975), Buddhist monks demonstrated their opposition to the suppression of Buddhism and US involvement by self-immolation. The most prominent of these was Thich Quang Duc’s immolation in Saigon on June 11, 1963. Although Buddhist self-immolations were largely a Chinese or Vietnamese phenomenon, Tibetan lamas have adopted this practice of self-immolated for political protest. The earliest reported self-immolation was Thubten Ngodup who lit himself on fire during an Indian police crackdown on the Tibetan Youth Congress in 1998. The Tibetan self-immolation gained international attention in 2009 when it was used to protest the Chinese human rights violations and suppression
of Tibetan Buddhism. Since then, more than thirty-six have died by self-immolation, the most recent a 20-year-old Tibetan monk from Kirti monastery in Aba county, China, on March 28, 2012 (see McGranahan and Litzinger, 2012). In South Asia, Sri Lankan monks became politically active and advocated strong forms of Buddhist nationalism. The socialist-leading Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna enlisted monks in an armed uprising during the 1980s. Lao monks have supported resistance movements against the Lao communist government since the 1980s. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Buddhist world changed. Among the more costly sites of Buddhist conflict in contemporary times was the Sri Lankan civil war against the LTTE (1983–2008), the current Tibetan uprisings in Chinese-controlled Tibet, Burmese Buddhist rebellion efforts in Myanmar, and Buddhist and Muslim conflicts in Ladakh, India, and southern Thailand.
Throughout the many iterations of the state over the centuries, Buddhists have supported their government’s right to adjudicate punishments in order to maintain the Buddhist ethos. In addition to the state’s function of preserving the dhamma,
some interpret corporal punishments as executions of the law of kamma. For others, the system of punishment is itself an application of negative actions. As indicated earlier under doctrinal justifications, the majority of Buddhists condone corporal punishments, which includes torture as well as capital punishment. The Buddhist position on punishments has changed over the centuries. In the sixteenth century, the Mongolian Khutukhtu Setsen Khung Taiji edited the White History of the Tenfold Virtuous Dharma , which advised measures such as blinding someone for stealing or cutting out a tongue for a lie (Wallace 2010, 93). Various punishments were carried out in Mongolia until the social revolution in
1921. Thailand does not maintain laws like those found in the White History, but it has been cited by nongovernmental organizations such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch for their torture techniques of suspects. Some torture techniques retain Buddhist connotations, such as the Sri Lankan dhammacakke ghahana (hitting the wheel of the dhamma). For this torture, people were forced to contort their bodies into the shape of a wheel; their bodies were then spun and beaten until the person passed out or bled to death (Abeysekara, 2002 230– 231). Tortures are not always inflicted by force. Buddhists have applied forms of self-mortification in order to gain merit, display filial piety, or express devotion. These practices are most frequently seen in Chinese traditions, wherein Buddhist monks wrote in blood, sliced off parts of their body, and engaged in extreme ritual exposures to the sun (Jimmy Yu 2012).
Some nation-states are not supportive of the death penalty. Sri Lanka has had a long history of opposition to the death penalty. In 1815, the British implemented the death penalty, but in 1978 it was revoked. Subsequently there have been periodic attempts to reinstate this policy.
Social Control
Social control is maintained through hegemonic systems, as well as through the execution of particular laws. Because of the visible state advocacy of Buddhist principles, Buddhist traditions have been used in authoritarian regimes such as Myanmar and its karaoke fascism, a term Monique Skidmore uses to describe the form of oppression and the Burmese response to a life of domination (Skidmore 2004, 7).
Religious texts are suffused with gender and racial stereotypes. In the heterosexually dominated narrative, women are subservient to men—either in recollections of the Buddha and his past lives or in the pantheon of deities and bodhisattvas. Buddhist traditions were among the earliest to grant women ordination (along with Jains), but this was not without contest. The Buddha’s favorite disciple Ananda had to ask three times for their admittance, and after the Order of Nuns was created, the Buddha explained the life of the dhamma was cut short because women were included. There were early female Buddhist saints such as those found in the collection of female hagiographies ( Therigatha ), but South Asian Buddhist women have learned to identify themselves from the perspective of male heroes (Wilson 1996, 5). Through the centuries most countries did not sustain their Order of Nuns; some, such as Thailand, never initiated it. In the alternative practices of Tantra, the division of sexual bodies and sacrality are not much different. Charlene Makley points out that paradigmatically male bodies of Tibetan incarnate lamas ( trulkus ) act as crucial indexes of the local divine cosmos (2007, 25). There is much to say about a religion that focuses on overcoming attachment and depicts women as seductresses in texts and images (such as Mara’s daughters). Viewed from this perspective, it is not a coincidence that sex ranks higher than murder among the highest offenses ( parajika ).
Buddhist practices have been used to sustain racial impositions. The earliest of these dates back to the South Asian Brahmanical caste system, which was officially rebuked by the Buddha. However, the monastic guidelines contain a wealth of physical restrictions for those who wish to ordain, and the vast majority of his followers were of the higher castes (particularly of the merchant and priest castes). Within the early South Asian social system, racial divisions were physically mapped by skin tones; those people with darker skin pigmentations were designated as the lower castes. The preference for lighter skin pigmentation is largely the result of labor conditions. Those of the lower castes worked outside in the sun, whereas the wealthy could afford to stay indoors. This early method of racializing bodies is present within cotemporary Buddhist societies of South and Southeast Asia and has been reinforced by global media and entertainment.
Sri Lankan society still maintains a caste system, and Thai society retains a preference for lighter skin tones as well. Within these nation-states, it is generally the White tourists who visit the beaches to tan; whitening creams are commonly advertised. The preference for lighter skin pigmentation is mapped onto Buddhist images, with light skin tones for the Buddha and darker skin tones for his adversaries. In some accounts, Mara and his minions are depicted with darker skin tones, such as in Thai Buddhist murals. These features suggest a structural level of violence that integrates Buddhist lore and racialized subjects (Jerryson 2011, 143–177). In regard to slavery, Buddhist traditions do not
have canonical prohibitions. We find examples of Buddhist intolerance toward slavery, such as in “Assalayana” in the Majjhima Nikaya , in which the Buddha rejects the view that people are born into servitude and are lesser beings than others. He espouses that all people, no matter the color of their skin, are equal to one another. However, Buddhist states (and monasteries) employed slaves until the late nineteenth century. In China, slavery continued under Buddhist influenced states, (the earliest records of slavery predate the introduction of Buddhism in the fourth century bce ), and there is record of the Sri Lanka Sangha receiving slaves as gifts as early as the first century bce . Laws on euthanasia and abortion differ with each nation-state and doctrinal grouping. The majority of Buddhist nation-states do not support the use of euthanasia or abortion. Humans must endure the fruits of their negative actions; in this light, the dying persons expiate their past kamma through their suffering. And because Buddhist notions of the self pinpoint life at conception, the abortion of
a fetus is the ending of a self. This stance has created problems in some countries such as Thailand, where abortion is prohibited but abortions are performed. Thai Buddhists believe that the fetuses’ spirits must be appeased, and so aborted fetuses are brought to monasteries for cremation. Japanese Buddhists perform a fetus memorial service ( mizuko kuyo ) for stillborn, aborted, or miscarried fetuses. During these ceremonies, offerings are made to the bodhisattva Jizo (Ksitigarbha), the guardian of children.
Conclusion
There is great strength in the Buddhist calls for compassion and acceptance. Among the various examples in the scriptures lies one from its founder Siddhattha Gotama, who abandoned his own familial allegiance for the sake of reconciliation. In the Sutta Nipata Atthakatha, the Sakya and Koliya kingdoms were close to declaring war over the use of the river Rohini, which flowed along the borders of both kingdoms. Each kingdom needed water for irrigating their crops, and a recent drought had deepened the severity of that need. However, instead of choosing his own kingdom of Sakya, Siddhattha counseled both sides to share the water since blood was more important than water. We find more recent examples of Buddhist-inspired reconciliation in the Nobel Peace laureate, the Fourteenth Dalai Lama, whose recent advocacy of diplomacy with the Chinese government limits the violence within the Tibetan region to small disparate acts. In the last several decades, movements such as the Sarvodaya Movement in Sri Lanka and the recent Burmese monks’ use of civil disobedience in their Saffron Revolution exemplify the power of Buddhist peace activism. Like all religious systems, Buddhist traditions contain a great capacity for reconciliation. In order to make use of these strengths, we should not turn a blind eye to its shortcomings.
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