Buddhism
and Social Action
An
Exploration
by
Ken
Jones
·
Note
I am grateful to Mr. Paul Ingram who, as the then editor,
published the original, very much abbreviated, version of this paper in the
Buddhist Society's journal "The Middle Way" (Vol. 54, No. 2 Summer
1979, 85-88). My thanks are also due to the Ven. Nyanaponika Mahathera who
encouraged me to develop my ideas further. For these, however, I must accept
sole responsibility.
1.1 Buddhism and the new global society
It is the manifest suffering and folly in the world that invokes
humane and compassionate social action in its many different forms. For
Buddhists this situation raises fundamental and controversial questions. And
here, also, Buddhism has implications of some significance for Christians,
humanists and other non-Buddhists.
By "social action" we mean the many different kinds of
action intended to benefit mankind. These range from simple individual acts of
charity, teaching and training, organized kinds of service, "Right
Livelihood" in and outside the helping professions, and through various
kinds of community development as well as to political activity in working for
a better society.
Buddhism is a pragmatic teaching which starts from certain
fundamental propositions about how we experience the world and how we act in
it. It teaches that it is possible to transcend this sorrow-laden world of our
experience and is concerned first and last with ways of achieving that transcendence.
What finally leads to such transcendence is what we call Wisdom. The enormous
literature of Buddhism is not a literature of revelation and authority.
Instead, it uses ethics and meditation, philosophy and science, art and poetry
to point a Way to this Wisdom. Similarly, Buddhist writing on social action,
unlike secular writings, makes finite proposals which must ultimately refer to
this Wisdom, but which also are arguable in terms of our common experience.
In the East, Buddhism developed different schools of
"traditions," serving the experiences of different cultures, ranging
from Sri Lanka through Tibet and Mongolia to Japan. Buddhism may thus appear
variously as sublime humanism, magical mysticism, poetic paradox and much else.
These modes of expression, however, all converge upon the fundamental teaching,
the "perennial Buddhism." This pamphlet is based upon the latter,
drawing upon the different oriental traditions to present the teachings in an
attempt to relate them to our modern industrial society.
From the evidence of the
Buddha's discourses, or suttas in the Digha Nikaya, it is clear that early
Buddhists were very much concerned with the creation of social conditions
favorable to the individual cultivation of Buddhist values. An outstanding
example of this, in later times, is the remarkable "welfare state"
created by the Buddhist emperor, Asoka (B.C. 274-236). Walpola Rahula stated
the situation — perhaps at its strongest — when he wrote that "Buddhism
arose in India as a spiritual force against social injustices, against
degrading superstitious rites, ceremonies and sacrifices; it denounced the
tyranny of the caste system and advocated the equality of all men; it
emancipated woman and gave her complete spiritual freedom." (Rahula, 1978).
The Buddhist scriptures do indicate the general direction of Buddhist social
thinking, and to that extent they are suggestive for our own
times. Nevertheless it would be pedantic, and in some cases absurd, to apply
directly to modern industrial society social prescriptions detailed to meet the
needs of social order which flourished twenty-three centuries ago. The Buddhist
householder of the Sigalovada Sutta [1]experienced
a different way of life from that of a computer consultant in Tokyo or an
unemployed black youth in Liverpool. And the conditions which might favor their
cultivation of the Middle Way must be secured by correspondingly different —
and more complex — social, economic and political strategies.
It is thus essential to attempt to distinguish between perennial
Buddhism on the one hand and, on the other, the specific social prescriptions
attributed to the historical Buddha which related the basic, perennial teaching
to the specific conditions of his day. We believe that it is unscholarly to
transfer the scriptural social teaching uncritically and with
careful qualification to modern societies, or to proclaim that the Buddha was a
democrat and an internationalist. The modern terms "democracy" and
"internationalism" did not exist in the sense in which we understand
them in the emergent feudal society in which the Buddha lived. Buddhism is
ill-served in the long run by such special pleading. On the other hand, it is
arguable that there are democratic and internationalist implications in
the basic Buddhist teachings.
In the past two hundred years society in the West has undergone
a more fundamental transformation than at any period since Neolithic times,
whether in terms of technology or the world of ideas. And now in the East while
this complex revolution is undercutting traditional Buddhism, it is also
stimulating oriental Buddhism; and in the West it is creating problems and
perceptions to which Buddhism seems particularly relevant. Throughout its
history Buddhism has been successfully reinterpreted in accordance with
different cultures, whilst at the same time preserving its inner truths. Thus
has Buddhism spread and survived. The historic task of Buddhists in both East
and West in the twenty-first century is to interpret perennial Buddhism in
terms of the needs of industrial man and woman in the social conditions of
their time, and to demonstrate its acute and urgent relevance to the ills of
that society. To this great and difficult enterprise Buddhists will bring their
traditional boldness and humility. For certainly this is no time for clinging
to dogma and defensiveness.
1.2 Social action and the problem of
suffering
In modern Western society, humanistic social action, in its
bewildering variety of forms, is seen both as the characteristic way of
relieving suffering and enhancing human well-being and, at the same time, as a
noble ideal of service, of self-sacrifice, by humanists of all faiths.
Buddhism, however, is a humanism in that it rejoices in the
possibility of a true freedom as something inherent in human nature. For
Buddhism, the ultimate freedom is to achieve full release from the root causes
of all suffering: greed, hatred and delusion, which clearly are also the root
causes of all social evils. Their grossest forms are those which are harmful to
others. To weaken, and finally eliminate them in oneself, and, as far as
possible, in society, is the basis of Buddhist ethics. And here Buddhist social
action has its place.
The experience of suffering is the starting point of Buddhist
teaching and of any attempt to define a distinctively Buddhist social
action. However, misunderstanding can arise at the start, because the Pali word dukkha, which
is commonly translated simply as "suffering," has a much wider and
more subtle meaning. There is, of course, much gross, objective suffering in
the world (dukkha-dukkha), and much of this arises from
poverty, war, oppression and other social conditions. We cling to our good
fortune and struggle at all costs to escape from our bad fortune.
This struggle may not be so desperate in certain countries which
enjoy a high material standard of living spread relatively evenly throughout
the population. Nevertheless, the material achievements of such societies
appear somehow to have been "bought" by social conditions which breed
a profound sense of insecurity and anxiety, of restlessness and inner
confusion, in contrast to the relatively stable and ordered society in which
the Buddha taught.
Lonely, alienated industrial man has unprecedented opportunities
for living life "in the context of equipment," as the philosopher
Martin Heidegger so aptly put it. He has a highly valued freedom to make
meaning of his life from a huge variety of more or less readily available forms
of consumption or achievement — whether career building, home making, shopping
around for different world ideologies (such as Buddhism), or dedicated social
service. When material acquisition palls, there is the collection of new
experiences and the clocking up of new achievements. Indeed, for many their
vibrating busyness becomes itself a more important self-confirmation that the
goals to which it is ostensibly directed. In developing countries to live thus,
"in the context of equipment," has become the great goal for
increasing numbers of people. They are watched sadly by Westerners who have
accumulated more experience of the disillusion and frustration of perpetual
non-arrival.
Thus, from the experience of social conditions there arises both
physical and psychological suffering. But more fundamental still is that
profound sense of unease, of anxiety or angst,which arises from the
very transience (anicca) of life (viparinama-dukkha). This
angst, however conscious of it we may or may not be, drives the restless search
to establish a meaningful self-identity in the face of a disturbing awareness
of our insubstantiality (anatta).Ultimately, life is commonly a
struggle to give meaning to life — and to death. This is so much the essence of
the ordinary human condition and we are so very much inside it,
that for much of the time we are scarcely aware of it. This existential suffering
is the distillation of all the various conditions to which we have referred
above — it is the human condition itself.
Buddhism offers to the individual human being a religious
practice, a Way, leading to the transcendence of suffering. Buddhist social
action arises from this practice and contributes to it. From suffering arises
desire to end suffering. The secular humanistic activist sets himself the
endless task of satisfying that desire, and perhaps hopes to
end social suffering by constructing utopias. The Buddhist, on the other hand,
is concerned ultimately with thetransformation of
desire. Hence he contemplates and experiences social action in a fundamentally
different way from the secular activist. This way will not be readily
comprehensible to the latter, and has helped give rise to the erroneous belief
that Buddhism is indifferent to human suffering. One reason why the subject of
this pamphlet is so important to Buddhists is that they will have to start here
if they are to begin to communicate effectively with non-Buddhist social
activists. We should add, however, that although such communication may not be
easy on the intellectual plane, at the level of feelings shared in
compassionate social action experience together, there may be little
difficulty.
We have already suggested one source of the widespread belief
that Buddhism is fatalistic and is indifferent to humanistic social action.
This belief also appears to stem from a misunderstanding of the Buddhist law of
Karma. In fact, there is no justification for interpreting the Buddhist
conception of karma as implying quietism and fatalism. The word karma (Pali: kamma) mean
volitional action in deeds, words and thoughts, which may be morally good or bad.
To be sure, our actions are conditioned (more or less so), but
they are not inescapably determined. Though human behavior and
thought are too often governed by deeply ingrained habits or powerful impulses,
still there is always the potentiality of freedom — or, to be more exact, of a
relative freedom of choice. To widen the range of that freedom is the primary
task of Buddhist mind training and meditation.
The charge of fatalism is sometimes supported by reference to
the alleged "social backwardness" of Asia. But this ignores the fact
that such backwardness existed also in the West until comparatively recent
times. Surely, this backwardness and the alleged fatalistic acceptance of it
stem from the specific social and political conditions, which were too powerful
for would-be reformers to contend with. But apart from these historic facts, it
must be stressed here that the Buddha's message of compassion is certainly not
indifferent to human suffering in any form; nor do Buddhists think that social
misery cannot be remedied, at least partly. Though Buddhist realism does not
believe in the Golden Age of a perfect society, nor in the permanence of social
conditions, yet Buddhism strongly believes that social imperfections can be
reduced, by the reduction of greed, hatred and ignorance, and by compassionate
action guided by wisdom.
From the many utterances of the Buddha, illustrative of our
remarks, two may be quoted here:
"He who has
understanding and great wisdom does not think of harming himself or another, nor
of harming both alike. He rather thinks of his own welfare, of that of others,
of that of both, and of the welfare of the whole world. In that way one shows
understanding and great wisdom."
— Anguttara Nikaya (Gradual Sayings) Fours, No. 186
"By protecting
oneself (e.g., morally), one protects others; by protecting others, one
protects oneself."
— Samyutta Nikaya (Kindred Sayings) 47; Satipatthana Samy., No.
19
In this section we have introduced the special and distinctive
quality of Buddhist social action. In the remainder of Part One we shall
explore this quality further, and show how it arises naturally and logically
from Buddhist teaching and practice.
1.3 The weight of social karma
Individual karmic behavior patterns are created by the struggles
of the individual human predicament. They condition the behavior of the
individual and, in traditional Buddhist teaching, the subsequent rounds of
birth and rebirth. We suggest, however, that this karmic inheritance is also expressed
as social karma. Specific to time and place, different social
cultures arise, whether of a group, a community, a social class or a
civilization. The young are socialized to their inherited culture. Consciously
and unconsciously they assimilate the norms of the approved behavior — what is
good, what is bad, and what is "the good life" for that culture.
The social karma — the establishment of conditioned behavior
patterns — of a particular culture is and is not the aggregate of the karma of
the individuals who comprise the culture. Individuals share common institutions
and belief systems, but these are the results of many different wills, both in
the past and the present, rather than the consequence of any single individual
action. It is, however, individual karmic action that links the individual to
these institutions and belief systems. Each individual is a light-reflecting
jewel in Indra's net, at the points where time and space intersect. Each
reflects the light of all and all of each. This is the mysticism of sociology
or the sociology of mysticism!
Human societies, too, suffer the round of birth and rebirth, of
revolution and stability. Each age receives the collective karmic inheritance
of the last, is conditioned by it, and yet also struggles to refashion it. And within
each human society, institutions, social classes, and subcultures, as well as
individuals, all struggle to establish their identity and perpetuate their
existence.
Capitalist industrial society has created conditions of extreme
impermanence, and the struggle with a conflict-creating mood of dissatisfaction
and frustration. It would be difficult to imagine any social order for which
Buddhism is more relevant and needed. In these conditions, egotistical
enterprise, competitive conflict, and the struggle for status become great
social virtues, while, in fact, they illustrate the import of the three
root-causes of suffering — greed, hatred, and delusion.
"These cravings," argues David Brandon, "have
become cemented into all forms of social structures and institutions. People
who are relatively successful at accumulating goods and social position wish to
ensure that the remain successful... Both in intended and unintended ways they
erect barriers of education, finance and law to protect their property and other
interests... These structures and their protective institutions continue to
exacerbate and amplify the basic human inequalities in housing, health care,
education and income. They reward and encourage greed, selfishness, and
exploitation rather than love, sharing and compassion. Certain people's life
styles, characterized by greed and overconsumption, become dependent on the
deprivation of the many. The oppressors and oppressed fall into the same trap
of continual craving" (Brandon, 1976, 10-11). It should be added that
communist revolution and invasion have created conditions and social structures
which no less, but differently, discourage the spiritual search.
Thus we see that modern social organization may create
conditions of life which not only give rise to "objective,"
non-volitionally caused suffering, but also tend to give rise to
"subjective," volitionally caused karmic suffering, because they are
more likely to stimulate negative karmic action than do other
kinds of social organization. Thus, some of us are born into social conditions
which are more likely to lead us into following the Buddhist way than others.
An unskilled woman factory worker in a provincial factory town is, for example,
less likely to follow the Path than a professional person living in the
university quarter of the capital city. A property speculator, wheeling and
dealing his samsaric livelihood anywhere is perhaps even less likely than
either of them to do so. However, all three may do so. Men and
women make their own history, but they make it under specific karmic
conditions, inherited from previous generations collectively, as
well as individually. The struggle is against nurture, as well as nature,
manifested in the one consciousness. "The present generation are living in
this world under great pressure, under a very complicated system, amidst
confusion. Everybody talks about peace, justice, equality but in practice it is
very difficult. This is not because the individual person is bad but because
the overall environment, the pressures, the circumstances are so strong, so
influential" (Dalai Lama, 1976, p. 17).
In short, Buddhist social action is justified ultimately and
above all by the existence of social as well as individual karma. Immediately
it is simply concerned with relieving suffering; ultimately, in creating social
conditions which will favor the ending of suffering through the individual
achievement of transcendent wisdom. But is it enough, to take a beautiful
little watering can to a flower dying in sandy, sterile soil? This will satisfy
only the waterer. But if we muster the necessary plows, wells, irrigation
systems and organized labor, what then will become of the spiritual life
amongst all this busyness and conflict? We must next consider this fundamental
question.
1.4 Is not a Buddhist's prime task to work
on him- or herself?
Answer: YES and NO
Buddhism is essentially pragmatic. Buddhism is, in one sense,
something that one does. It is a guide to the transformation of individual
experience. In the traditional Buddhist teaching, the individual sets out with
a karmic inheritance of established volitions, derived from his early life,
from earlier lives and certainly from his social environment, a part of his
karmic inheritance. Nevertheless, the starting point is the individual experiencing
of life, here and now.
Our train of argument began with the anxiety, the profound sense
of unease felt by the individual in his naked experience of life in the world
when not masked by busyness, objectives, diversions and other confirmations and
distractions. Buddhism teaches that all suffering, whether it be anxiety, or
more explicitly karmic, brought-upon-ourselves-suffering, or
"external" suffering, accidental and inevitable through war, disease,
old age and so on — arise ultimately from the deluded belief in a substantial
and enduring self. In that case, what need has the individual Buddhist for
concern for other individuals, let alone for social action since his prime task
is to work on himself in order to dissolve this delusion? Can he only thenhelp
others?
The answer to these questions is both yes and no. This does not
mean half-way between yes and no. It means yes and no. It means that the answer
to these fundamental questions of Buddhist social action cannot ultimately be logical
or rational. For the Buddhist Middle Way is not the middle between two
extremes, but the Middle Way which transcends the two extremes
in a "higher" unity.
Different traditions of Buddhism offer different paths of
spiritual practice. But all depend ultimately upon the individual becoming more
deeply aware of the nature of his experience of the world, and especially of
other people and hence of himself and of the nature of the self. "To learn
the way of the Buddha is to learn about oneself. To learn about oneself is to
forget oneself. To forget oneself is to experience the world as pure object —
to let fall one's own mind and body and the self-other mind and body" (Zen
Master Dogen: Shobogenzo).Meditation both reveals and ultimately
calms and clarifies the choppy seas and terrifying depths of the underlying
emotional life. All the great traditions of spiritual practice, Buddhist — and
non-Buddhist — emphasize the importance of periods of withdrawal for meditation
and reflection. Their relative importance is not our present concern. However,
in all Buddhist traditions the training emphasizes a vigilant mindfulness of
mental feelings in the course of active daily life, as well as in periods of
withdrawal. It all advocates the parallel development of habitual forms of
ethical behavior (sila).
"We need not regard life as worth [either] boycotting or
indulging in. Life situations are the food of awareness and mindfulness... We
wear out the shoe of samsara by walking on it through the
practice of meditation" (Chogyam Trungpa, 1976, p. 50). The same message
comes across forcefully in the Zen tradition: "For penetrating to the
depths of one's true nature... nothing can surpass the practice of Zen in the
midst of activity... The power or wisdom obtained by practicing Zen in the
world of action is like a rose that rises from the fire. It can never be
destroyed. The rose that rises from the midst of flames becomes all the more
beautiful and fragrant the nearer the fire rages" (Zen Master Hakuin,
1971, p. 34).
It is open to us, if we wish, to extend our active daily life to
include various possible forms of social action. This offers a strong immediate
kind of experience to which we can give our awareness practice. Less
immediately, it serves to fertilize our meditation — "dung for the field
of bodhi." Thirdly, it offers wider opportunities for the cultivation of sila —
the habituation to a selfless ethic.
The above remarks are about taking social
action. They refer to the potential benefits of social action for individual
practice. They are less "reasons" for social action than reasons why
a Buddhist should not desist from social action. The mainspring of Buddhist
social action lies elsewhere; it arises from the heart of a ripening
compassion, however flawed it still may be by ego needs. This is giving social
action, with which we shall be concerned in the next section.
Social action as a training in self-awareness (and compassionate
awareness of others) may be a discipline more appropriate to some individual
temperaments, and, indeed, to some cultures and times, than to others. We are
not concerned with advocating it for all Buddhists, but simply to suggesting
its legitimacy for such as choose to follow it. For Buddhism has always
recognized the diversity of individual temperaments and social cultures that
exist, and has offered a corresponding diversity of modes of practice.
1.5 Buddhist social action as heartfelt
paradox
As we have noted, the significance of social action as
mindfulness training is, of course, incidental to that profound compassionate
impulse which more — or less — leads us to seek the relief of the suffering of
others. Our motives may be mixed, but to the extent that they are truly
selfless they do manifest our potential for Awakening and our relatedness to
all beings.
Through our practice, both in the world and in withdrawn
meditation, the delusion of a struggling self becomes more and more
transparent, and the conflicting opposites of good and bad, pain and pleasure,
wealth and poverty, oppression and freedom are seen and understood in a Wisdom
at once serene and vigilant. This Wisdom partakes of the sensitivity of the
heart as well as the clarity of thought.
In this Wisdom, in the words of R.H. Blyth, things are beautiful
— but not desirable; ugly — but not repulsive; false — but not rejected. What
is inevitable, like death, is accepted without rage; what may not be, like war,
is the subject of action skillful and the more effective because, again, it is
not powered and blinded by rage and hate. We may recognize an oppressor and
resolutely act to remove the oppression, but we do not hate him. Absence of
hatred, disgust, intolerance or righteous indignation within us is itself a
part of our growth towards enlightenment (bodhi).
Such freedom from negative emotions should not be mistaken for
indifference, passivity, compromise, loving our enemy instead of hating him, or
any other of these relativities. This Wisdom transcends the Relativities which
toss us this way and that. Instead, there is an awareness, alert and dispassionate,
of an infinitely complex reality, but always an awareness free of despair, of
self-absorbing aggression, or of blind dogma, an awareness free to act or not
to act. Buddhists have their preferences, and in the face of such social
cataclysms as genocide and nuclear war, they are strong preferences, but they
are not repelled into quietism by them. What has been said above has to be
cultivated to perfection by one following the Bodhisattva ideal. We are
inspired by it, but very few of us can claim to live it. Yet we shall never
attain the ideal by turning our backs upon the world and denying the
compassionate Buddha nature in us that reaches out to suffering humanity,
however stained by self love those feelings may be. Only through slowly
"Wearing out the shoe of samsara" in whatever way is
appropriate to us can we hope to achieve this ideal, and not through some
process of incubation.
This Great Wisdom (prajna) exposes the
delusion, the folly, sometimes heroic, sometimes base, of human struggle in the
face of many kinds of suffering. This sense of folly fuses with the sense of
shared humanity in the form of compassion (karuna). Compassion
is the everyday face of Wisdom.
In individual spiritual practice though, some will incline to a
Way of Compassion and others to a Way of Wisdom, but finally the two faculties
need to be balanced, each complementing and ripening the other.
He who clings to
the Void
And neglects Compassion
Does not reach the highest stage.
But he who practices only Compassion
Does not gain release from the toils of existence.
And neglects Compassion
Does not reach the highest stage.
But he who practices only Compassion
Does not gain release from the toils of existence.
— Saraha, 1954
To summarize: Buddhist or non-Buddhist, it is our common
humanity, our "Buddha nature," that moves us to compassion and to
action for the relief of suffering. These stirrings arise from our underlying
relatedness to all living things, from being brothers and sisters one to
another. Buddhist spiritual practice, whether at work or in the meditation
room, ripens alike the transcendental qualities of Compassion and Wisdom.
Social action starkly confronts the actor with the sufferings of
others and also confronts him with his own strong feelings which commonly arise
from such experience, whether they be feelings of pity, guilt, angry
partisanship or whatever. Social action is thus a powerful potential practice
for the follower of the Way, a "skillful means" particularly relevant
to modern society.
Finally, it is only some kind of social action
that can be an effective and relevant response to the weight of social karma
which oppresses humanity and which we all share.
2.1 Giving and helping
All social action is an act of giving (dana), but
there is a direct act which we call charitable action, whether it be the UNESCO
Relief Banker's Order or out all night with the destitutes' soup kitchen. Is
there anything about Buddhism that should make it less concerned actively to
maintain the caring society than is Christianity or humanism? "Whoever
nurses the sick serves me," said the Buddha. In our more complex society
does this not include the active advancement and defense of the principles of a
national health service?
The old phrase "as cold as charity" recalls numerous
possibilities for self-deception in giving to others and in helping them. Here
is opportunity to give out goodness in tangible form, both in our own eyes and
those of the world. It may also be a temptation to impose our own ideas and
standards from a position of patronage. David Brandon, who has written so well
on the art of helping, reminds us that "respect is seeing the Buddha
nature in the other person. It means perceiving the superficiality of positions
of moral authority. The other person is as good as you. However untidy,
unhygienic, poor, illiterate and bloody-minded he may seem, he is worthy of
your respect. He also has autonomy and purpose. He is another form of
nature" (Brandon, 1976, p. 59).
There are many different ways in which individual Buddhists and
their organizations can give help and relieve suffering. However, "charity
begins at home." If a Buddhist group or society fails to provide human
warmth and active caring for all of its members in their occasional
difficulties and troubles — though always with sensitivity and scrupulous
respect for privacy — where then is its Buddhism? Where is the Sangha?
In our modern industrial society there has been on the one hand
a decline in personal and voluntary community care for those in need and, on
the other, too little active concern for the quality and quantity of
institutional care financed from the public purse that has to some extent taken
its place. One facet of this which may be of particular significance for
Buddhists, is a failure to recognize adequately and provide for the needs of
the dying. In recent years there has been a growing awareness of this problem
in North America and Europe, and a small number of hospices have been established
by Christian and other groups for terminally ill people. However, only a start
has been made with the problem. The first Buddhist hospice in the West has yet
to be opened. And, less ambitiously, the support of regular visitors could help
many lonely people to die with a greater sense of dignity and independence in
our general hospitals.
2.2 Teaching
Teaching is, of course, also a form of giving and helping.
Indeed, one of the two prime offenses in the Mahayana code of discipline is
that of withholding the wealth of the Dharma from others. Moreover, teaching
the Dharma is one of the most valuable sources of learning open to a Buddhist.
Here we are concerned primarily with the teaching of the Dharma
to newcomers in Buddhism, and with the general publicizing of Buddhism among
non-Buddhists.
Buddhism is by its very nature lacking in the aggressive
evangelizing spirit of Christianity or Islam. It is a pragmatic system of
sustained and systematic self-help practice, in which the teacher can do no
more than point the way and, together with fellow Buddhists, provide support,
warmth and encouragement in a long and lonely endeavor. There is here no
tradition of instant conversion and forceful revelation for the enlightenment
experience, however sudden, depends upon a usually lengthy period of careful
cultivation. Moreover, there is a tolerant tradition of respect for the beliefs
and spiritual autonomy of non-Buddhists.
Nevertheless, a virtue may be cultivated to a fault. Do we not
need to find a middle way between proselytizing zeal and aloof indifference?
Does not the world cry out for a Noble Truth that "leads to the cessation
of suffering"? The task of teaching the Dharma also gives individual
Buddhists an incentive to clarify their ideas in concise, explicit, everyday
terms. And it requires them to respond positively to the varied responses which
their teaching will provoke in others.
It will be helpful to treat the problem on two overlapping
levels, and to distinguish between (a) publicizing the Dhamma, and (b)
introductory teaching for enquirers who interest has thus been awakened.
At both the above levels activity is desirable both by a central
body of some kind and by local groups (in many countries there will certainly
be several "central bodies," representing different traditions and
tendencies). The central body can cost-effectively produce for local use introductory
texts and study guides, speakers' notes, audiocassettes, slide presentations
and "study kits" combining all of these different types of material.
It has the resources to develop correspondence courses such as those run by the
Buddhist Society in the United Kingdom which offer a well-tried model. And it
will perhaps have sufficient prestige to negotiate time on the national radio
and television network.
Particularly in Western countries there are strong arguments for
organizations representing the different Buddhist traditions and tendencies to
set up a representative Buddhist Information and Liaison Service for
propagating fundamental Buddhism and some first introductions to the different
traditions and organizations. It would also provide a general information
clearing house for all the groups and organizations represented. It could be
financed and controlled through a representative national Buddhist council
which, with growing confidence between its members and between the different
Buddhist organizations which they represented, might in due course take on
additional functions. Certainly in the West there is the prospect of a great
many different Buddhist flowers blooming, whether oriental or new strains
developed in the local culture. This is to be welcomed, but the kind of body we
propose will become a necessity to avoid confusion for the outsider and to work
against any tendency to sectarianism of a kind from which Buddhism has been
relatively free.
Local groups will be able to draw upon the publicity and
teaching resources of national centers and adapt these to the needs of local
communities. Regular meetings of such groups may amount to no more than half a
dozen people meeting in a private house. Sensitively handled it would be
difficult to imagine a better way of introducing a newcomer to the Dharma. Such
meetings are worthy of wide local publicity. A really strong local base exists
where there is a resident Buddhist community of some kind, with premises
convenient for meetings and several highly committed workers. Unfortunately,
such communities will, understandably, represent a particular Buddhist
tradition or tendency, and this exclusiveness may be less helpful to the
newcomer than a local group in which he or she may have the opportunity to
become acquainted with the different Buddhist traditions represented in the
membership and in the program of activity.
In many countries the schools provide brief introductions to the
world's great religions. Many teachers do not feel sufficiently knowledgeable
about introducing Buddhism to their pupils and may be unaware of suitable
materials even where these do exist. There may be opportunities here for local
groups, and certainly the Information Service suggested above would have work
to do here.
Finally, the method of introductory teaching employed in some
Buddhist centers leaves much to be desired both on educational grounds and as
Buddhist teaching. The Buddha always adapted his teaching to the particular
circumstances of the individual learner; he sometimes opened with a question
about the enquirer's occupation in life, and built his teaching upon the answer
to this and similar questions. True learning and teaching has as its starting
point a problem or experience posed by the learner, even if this be no more
than a certain ill-defined curiosity. It is there that teacher and learner must
begin. The teacher starts with the learner's thoughts and feelings and helps
him or her to develop understanding and awareness. This is, of course, more
difficult than a standard lecture which begins and ends with the teacher's
thoughts and feelings, and which may in more sense than one leave little space
for the learner. It will exclude the teacher from any learning.
It follows that unless the teacher is truly inspiring, the
"Dharma talk" is best used selectively: to introduce and stimulate
discussion or to summarize and consolidate what has been learned. Dharma
teachers must master the arts of conducting open discussion groups, in which
learners can gain much from one another and can work through an emotional
learning situation beyond the acquisition of facts about Buddhism. Discussion
groups have become an important feature of many lay Buddhist and social action
organizations in different parts of the world. They are the heart, for example,
of the Japanese mass organization Rissho Kosei Kai, which explores problems of
work, the family and social and economic problems.
2.3 Political action: the conversion of
energy
Political power may manifest and sustain social and economic
structures which breed both material deprivation and spiritual degradation for
millions of men and women. In many parts of the world it oppresses a wide range
of social groupings — national and racial minorities, women, the poor,
homosexuals, liberal dissidents, and religious groups. Ultimately, political
power finds its most terrible expression in war, which reaches now to the
possibility of global annihilation.
For both the oppressors and the oppressed, whether in social
strife or embattled nations, karmic delusion is deepened. Each group or nation
emphasizes its differences, distinguishing them from its opponents; each
projects its own short-comings upon them, makes them the repository of all
evil, and rallies round its own vivid illusions and blood-warming hates.
Collective hating, whether it be the raised fist, or prejudice concealed in a
quiet community, is a heady liquor. Allied with an ideology, hate in any form
will not depart tomorrow or next year. Crowned with delusive idealism, it is an
awesome and murderous folly. And even when victory is achieved, the victors are
still more deeply poisoned by the hate that carried them to victory. Both the
revolution and the counter-revolution consume their own children. Buddhism's
"Three Fires" of delusion (moha), hatred and
ill-will (dosa), and greed and grasping, (lobha), surely
burn nowhere more fiercely.
Contrariwise, political power may be used to fashion and sustain
a society whose citizens are free to live in dignity and harmony and mutual
respect, free of the degradation of poverty and war. In such a society of good
heart all men and women find encouragement and support in
making, if they will, the best use of their human condition in the practice of
wisdom and compassion. This is the land of good karma — not the end of human
suffering, but the beginning of the end, the bodhisattva-land, the social
embodiment of sila.
This is not to be confused with the belief common among the
socially and politically oppressed that if power could be seized (commonly by
an elite claiming to represent them), then personal, individual,
"ideological" change will inevitably follow. This absolutely
deterministic view of conditioning (which Marx called "vulgar
Marxism"), is as one-sided as the idea of a society of
"individuals" each struggling with only his own personal karma in a
private bubble hermetically sealed off from history and from other people.
Political action thus involves the Buddhist ideal of approaching
each situation without prejudice but with deserved circumspection in questions
of power and conflict, social oppression and social justice. These social and
political conflicts are the great public samsaric driving energies of our life
to which an individual responds with both aggression and self-repression. The
Buddha Dharma offers the possibility of transmuting the energies of the individual
into Wisdom and Compassion. At the very least, in faith and with good heart, a
start can be made.
Buddhists are thus concerned with political action, first, in
the direct relief of non-volitionally caused suffering now and in the future,
and, secondly, with the creation of social karmic conditions favorable to the
following of the Way that leads to the cessation also of volitionally-caused
suffering, the creation of a society of a kind which tends to the ripening of
wisdom and compassion rather than the withering of them. In the third place,
political action, turbulent and ambiguous, is perhaps the most potent of the
"action meditations."
It is perhaps because of this potency that some Buddhist
organizations ban political discussion of any kind, even at a scholarly level,
and especially any discussion of social action. There are circumstances in
which this may be a sound policy. Some organizations and some individuals may
not wish to handle such an emotionally powerful experience which may prove to
be divisive and stir up bad feeling which cannot be worked upon in any positive
way. This division would particularly tend to apply to "party
politics." On the other hand, such a discussion may give an incomparable
opportunity to work through conflict to a shared wisdom. Different
circumstances suggest different "skillful means," but a dogmatic
policy of total exclusion is likely to be ultimately unhelpful.
In this connection it is worth noting that any kind of social
activity which leads to the exercise of power or conflict may stir up "the
fires" in the same way as overtly political activity. Conflict within a
Buddhist organization is cut from the same cloth as conflict in a political
assembly and may be just as heady, but the Buddhist context could make such an
activity a much more difficult and delusive meditation subject. The danger of
dishonest collusion may be greater than that of honest collusion (to borrow one
of the Ven. Sangharakshita's aphorisms). The dogmatism and vehemence with which
some Buddhists denounce and proscribe all political involvement is the same sad
attitude as the dogmatism and vehemence of the politicians which they so
rightly denounce.
To be lost in revolution or reform or conservatism is to be lost
in samsara and the realm of the angry warrior, deluded by his
power and his self-righteousness. To turn one's back upon all this is to be
lost in an equally false idea of nirvana — the realm of the
gods no less deluded by spiritual power and righteousness, "You do not
truly speak of fire if your mouth does not get burnt."
Effective social action on any but the smallest scale will soon
involve the Buddhist in situations of power and conflict, of
"political" power. It may be the power of office in a Buddhist
organization. It may be the unsought for leadership of an action group
protesting against the closing of an old people's day care center. It may be
the organizing of a fund-raising movement to build a Buddhist hospice for care
of the dying. It may be membership of a local government council with
substantial welfare funds. It may be joining an illegal dissident group. In all
these cases the Buddhist takes the tiger — his own tiger — by the tail. Some of
the above tigers are bigger than others, but all are just as fierce. Hence a
Buddhist must be mindful of the strong animal smell of political power and be
able to contain and convert the valuable energy which power calls up. A sharp
cutting edge is given into his hands. Its use we must explore in the sections
which follow.
2.4 Buddhist political theory and policy
Buddhism and politics meet at two levels — theory and practice.
Buddhism has no explicit body of social and political theory comparable to its
psychology or metaphysics. Nevertheless, a Buddhist political theory can be
deduced primarily from basic Buddhism, from Dharma. Secondly, it can be deduced
from the general orientation of scriptures which refer explicitly to a bygone
time. We have already argued, however, that this can be done only in a limited
and qualified way.
Whatever form it may take, Buddhist political theory like other
Buddhist "theory" is just another theory. As it stands in print, it
stands in the world of the conditioned; it is ofsamsara. It is its
potential, its spiritual implications, which make it different from
"secular" theory. When skillfully practiced, it becomes a spiritual
practice. As always, Buddhist "theory" is like a label on a bottle
describing the contents which sometimes is mistaken for the contents by zealous
label-readers. In that way we can end up with a lot of politics and very little
Buddhism.
This is not to decry the value of a Buddhist social and
political theory — only its misuse. We have only begun to apply Buddhism as a
catalyst to the general body of Western social science and most of the work so
far has been in psychology. Such work in allied fields could be extremely
helpful to Buddhists and non-Buddhists alike.
The writings of some Buddhists from Sri Lanka, Burma and
elsewhere offer interesting examples of attempts to relate Buddhism to
nationalism and Marxism (not to be confused with communism). Earlier in the
century Anagarika Dharmapala stressed the social teaching of the Buddha and its
value in liberating people from materialistic preoccupations. U Nu, the eminent
Burmese Buddhist statesman, argued that socialism follows naturally from the
ethical and social teachings of the Buddha, and another Burmese leader, U Ba
Swe, held that Marxism is relative truth, Buddhism absolute truth. This theme
has been explored more recently in Trevor Ling's book "Buddha, Marx and
God," (2nd ed., Macmillan, London 1979) and Michal Edwarde's "In the
Blowing out of a Flame" (Allen & Unwin 1976). Both are stimulating and
controversial books. E.F. Schumacher's celebrated book "Small is
Beautiful" (Blond & Briggs, London 1973) has introduced what he terms
"Buddhist economics" and its urgent relevance to the modern world to
many thousand of non-Buddhists. Of this we shall say more in a later section on
the Buddhist "good society."
Buddhist social and political theory and policy can only be
mentioned in passing in this pamphlet, although we have earlier introduced the
idea of "social karma" as of central importance. We are, instead,
concerned here with problems and questions arising in the practice of social
and political work by Buddhists and the nature of that work.
2.5 Conflict and partisanship
The Buddhist faced with political thought, let alone political
action, is straightaway plunged in the turbulent stream of conflict and
partisanship and right and wrong.
Let the reader, perhaps prompted by the morning newspaper,
select and hold in his mind some particular controversial public issue or
public figure. Now, how does your Buddhismfeel, please? (No, not
what does your Buddhism think!) How does it feel when, again,
some deeply held conviction is roughly handled at a Buddhist meeting or in a
Buddhist journal? "The tears and anguish that follow arguments and
quarrels," said the Buddha, "the arrogance and pride and the grudges
and insults that go with them are all the result of one thing. They come from
having preferences, from holding things precious and dear. Insults are born out
of arguments and grudges are inseparable with quarrels."
(Kalahavivada-sutta, trans. H. Saddhatissa, 1978, para. 2) Similarly, in the
words of one of the Zen patriarchs: "The conflict between longing and
loathing is the mind's worse disease" (Seng Ts'an, 1954).
In all our relationships as Buddhists we seek to cultivate a
spirit of openness, cooperation, goodwill and equality. Nonetheless, we may not
agree with another's opinions, and, in the final analysis, this divergence
could have to do even with matters of life and death. But hopefully we shall be
mindful and honest about how we think and, with what we feel, and how our
opponent thinks and feels. In such controversies, are we each to confirm our
own ego? Or each to benefit from the other in the search for wise judgment?
Moreover, in the words of the Dalai Lama, "when a person criticizes you
and exposes your faults, only then are you able to discover your faults and
make amends. So your enemy is your greatest friend because he is the person who
gives you the test you need for your inner strength, your tolerance, your
respect for others... Instead of feeling angry with or hatred towards such a
person, one should respect him and be grateful to him" (Dalai Lama, 1976,
p. 9). We are one with our adversary in our common humanity; we are two in our
divisive conflict. We should be deluded if we were to deny either — if we were
to rush either to compromise or to uncompromising struggle. Our conflict and
our humanity may be confirmed or denied at any point along that line of
possibilities which links the extremes, but ultimately it will be resolved in
some other, less explicit sense. Sangharakshita expresses this paradox in his
observation that "it is not enough to sympathize with something to such an
extent that one agrees with it. If necessary, one must sympathize to such an
extent that one disagrees" (Sangharakshita, 1979, p. 60).
Zen Master Dogen advised that "when you say something to
someone he may not accept it, but do not try to make him understand it
rationally. Don't argue with him; just listen to his objections, until he
himself finds something wrong with them." Certainly we shall need much
time and space for such wisdom and compassion as may inform us in such
situations. If we do fight, may our wisdom and compassion honor both our
adversary and ourselves, whether in compromise, victory or defeat.
And so,
"On how to
sing
The frog school and the skylark school
Are arguing."
The frog school and the skylark school
Are arguing."
— Shiki, 1958, p. 169
2.6 Ambiguity, complexity, uncertainty
Our "Small Mind" clings to delusions of security and
permanence. It finds neither of these in the world where, on the contrary, it
experiences a sense of ambiguity, complexity and uncertainty which it finds
intolerable, and which make it very angry when it is obliged to confront them.
Small Mind prefers to see social, economic and political phenomena in terms of
black and white, or "Left and Right." It likes to take sides, and it
clings to social dogmas both sophisticated and simple. ("The rich/poor are
always selfish/idle.")
To the extent that we have achieved "Big Mind" we
perceive with equanimity what Small Mind recoils from as intolerable. We are
freer to see the world as it is in all the many colors of the
rainbow, each merging imperceptibly into the next. In place of clinging to a
few black, white and gray compartments, scrutiny is freed, encouraged by the
Buddha's discriminating and differentiating attitude. (Vibhajjavada; see Wheel:
No. 238/240, Anguttara Anthology, Part II, pp. 59 ff.)
We shall not be surprised then that the personal map which
guides the Wise through social and political realities may turn out to be
disturbingly unconventional. Their reluctance readily to "take sides"
arises not from quietism or an attachment to a compromise or a belief in the
"unreality" of conflict, as is variously the case with those guided
by mere rules. On the contrary, they may not even sit quietly, throwing soothing
generalizations into the ring, as is expected of the religious. This seemingly
uncomfortable, seemingly marginal stance simply reflects a reality which is
experienced with equanimity.
However, it does not require much equanimity to discover the
deeper truths which underlie many current conventional truths. Conventional
politics, for example, run from "left," to "right," from
radicals through liberals and conservatives to fascists. Some radicals are, for
example, as dogmatic and authoritarian in practice as fascists, and to their
ultimate detriment they hate no less mightily. And, again, some conservatives
are equally dogmatic because of an awareness of the subtle, organic nature of
society and hence the danger of attempts at "instant" restructuring.
Similarly an ideology such as Marxism may be highly complex but
has been conveniently oversimplified even by quite well educated partisans,
both those "for" and those "against" the theory. The
present Dalai Lama is one of those who have attempted to disentangle "an
authentic Marxism" which he believes is not without relevance to the
problems of a feudal theocracy of the kind that existed in Tibet, from
"the sort one sees in countless countries claiming to be Marxist,"
but which are "mixing up Marxism and their national political interests
and also their thirst for world hegemony" (Dalai Lama, 1979).
The Wise person sees clearly because he does not obscure his own
light; he does not cast the shadow of himself over the situation. However, even
an honest perception of complexity commonly paralyzes action with, "Yes,
that's all very well, but...," "On the other hand it is also true
that... ." Contemplative wisdom is a precious thing, but true Wisdom
reveals itself in positive action — or "in-action." Though a person may,
through Clear Comprehension of Purpose (satthaka-sampajanna), keep
loyal to the social ideal, his Clear Comprehension of (presently absent)
Suitability may counsel in-action, or just "waiting."
In a social action situation the complexity and ambiguity to
which we refer is strongly felt as ethical quandary, uncertainty as to what
might be the best course of action. Even in small organizations all power is
potentially corrupting; the power wielded is soon lost in a thicket of relative
ethics, of means and ends confused, of greater and lesser evils, of long term
and short term goals. This is not a "game." It is the terrible
reality of power, wealth and suffering in the world, and the confusing of good
and delusion. It cannot be escaped; it can only be suffered through. We cannot
refuse life's most difficult problems because we have not yet attained to
Wisdom. We simply have to do our mindful and vigilant best, without guilt or
blame. That is all we have to do.
2.7 Violence and non-violence
The First Precept of Buddhism is to abstain from taking life.
But it must be made clear that the Buddhist "Precepts" are not
commandments; they are "good resolutions," sincere aspirations
voluntarily undertaken. They are signposts. They suggest to us how the truly
Wise behave, beyond any sense of self and other.
Evil springs from delusion about our true nature as human
beings, and it takes the characteristic forms of hatred, aggression and driving
acquisitiveness. These behaviors feed upon themselves and become strongly
rooted, not only in individuals but in whole cultures. Total war is no more
than their most spectacular and bloody expression. In Buddhism the cultivation
of sila (habitual morality) by attempting to follow the
Precepts is an aspiration toward breaking this karmic cycle. It is a first step
towards dissolving the egocentricity of headstrong willfulness, and cultivating
heartfelt awareness of others. The Precepts invite us to loosen the grip,
unclench the fist, and to aspire to open-handedness and open-heartedness.
Whether, and to what extent, he keeps the Precepts is the responsibility of
each individual. But he needs to be fully aware of what he is doing.
The karmic force of violent behavior will be affected by the
circumstances in which it occurs. For example, a "diminished
responsibility" may be argued in the case of conscripts forced to kill by
an aggressive government. And there is surely a difference between wars of
conquest and wars of defense. Ven. Walpola Rahula described a war of national
independence in Sri Lanka in the 2nd century BC conducted under the slogan
"Not for kingdom but for Buddhism," and concludes that "to fight
against a foreign invader for national independence became an established
Buddhist tradition, since freedom was essential to the spiritual as well as the
material progress of the community" (Rahula, 1978, p. 117). We may deplore
the historic destruction of the great Indian Buddhist heritage in the
middle-ages, undefended against the Mongol and Muslim invaders. It is important
to note, however, that "according to Buddhism there is nothing that can be
called a 'just war' — which is only a false term coined and put into
circulation to justify and excuse hatred, cruelty, violence and massacre"
(Rahula, 1967, 84).
It is an unfortunate fact, well documented by eminent scholars
such as Edward Conze and Trevor Ling, that not only have avowedly Buddhist
rulers undertaken violence and killing, but also monks of all traditions in
Buddhism. Nonetheless, Buddhism has no history of specifically religious
wars, that is, wars fought to impose Buddhism upon reluctant
believers.
Violence and killing are deeply corrupting in their effect upon
all involved, and Buddhists will therefore try to avoid direct involvement in
violent action or in earning their living in a way that, directly or
indirectly, does violence. The Buddha specifically mentioned the trade in arms,
in living beings and flesh.
The problem is whether, in today's "global village" we
are not all in some degree responsible for war and violence to the extent that
we refrain from any effort to diminish them. Can we refrain from killing a
garden slug and yet refrain, for fear of "political involvement,"
from raising a voice against the nuclear arms race or the systematic torture of
prisoners of conscience in many parts of the world?
These are questions which are disturbing to some of those
Buddhists who have a sensitive social and moral conscience. This is
understandable. Yet, a well-informed Buddhist must not forget that moral responsibility,
or karmic guilt, originate from a volitional and voluntary actaffirming the
harmful character of the act. If that affirmation is absent, neither the
responsibility for the act, not karmic guilt, rest with those who, through some
form of pressure, participate in it. A slight guilt, however, might be involved
if such participants yield too easily even to moderate pressure or do not make
use of "escape routes" existing in these situations. But failure to
protest publicly against injustice or wrong-doings does not necessarily
constitute a participation in evil. Voices of protest should be raised when
there is a chance that they are heard. But "voices in the wilderness"
are futile, and silence, instead, is the better choice. It is futile, indeed,
if a few well-meaning heads try to run against walls of rock stone that may
yield only to bulldozers. It is a sad fact that there are untold millions of
our fellow-humans who do affirm violence and use it for a great variety of
reasons (though not "reasonable reasons"!). They are unlikely to be
moved by our protests or preachings, being entirely obsessed by divers
fanaticisms or power urges. This has to be accepted as an aspect of existential
suffering. Yet there are still today some opportunities and nations where a
Buddhist can and should work for the cause of peace and reducing violence in
human life. No efforts should be spared to convince people that violence does
not solve problems or conflicts.
The great evil of violence is its separation unto death of us
and them, of "my" righteousness and "your" evil. If you
counter violence with violence you will deepen that separation through thoughts
of bitterness and revenge. The Dhammapada says: "Never by hatred is hatred
appeased, but it is appeased by kindness. This is an eternal truth" (I, 5)
Buddhist non-violent social action (avihimsa, ahimsa) seeks to
communicate, persuade and startle by moral example. "One should conquer
anger through kindness, wickedness through goodness, selfishness through
charity, and falsehood through truthfulness" (Dhammapada, XVII, 3).
The Buddha intervened personally on the field of battle, as in
the dispute between the Sakyas and Koliyas over the waters of the Rohini. Since
that time, history has provided us with a host of examples of religiously
inspired non-violent social action, skillfully adapted to particular
situations. These are worthy of deep contemplation.
Well known is Mahatma Gandhi's non-violent struggle against
religious intolerance and British rule in India, and also the Rev. Martin
Luther King's black people's civil rights movement in the United States. A
familiar situation for many people today is the mass demonstration against
authority, which may be conducted either peacefully or violently. As Robert
Aitken Roshi has observed, "the point of disagreement, even the most
fundamental disagreement, is still more superficial than the place of our
common life." He recalls the case of a friend who organized an
anti-nuclear demonstration at a naval base passing through a small town in
which virtually every household had at least one person who gained his
livelihood by working at the base. Consequently, when the friend visited every
single house before the demonstration he hardly expected to win the people over
to his cause. But he did convince them that he was a human being who was
willing to listen to them and who had faith in them as human beings. "We
finally had our demonstration, with four thousand people walking through this
tiny community, nobody resisted us, nobody threw rocks. They just stood and
watched" (The Ten Directions, Los Angeles Zen Center, 1
(3) September 1980, p. 6).
And yet again, situations may arise in which folly is mutually
conditioned, but where we must in some sense take sides in establishing the
ultimate responsibility. If we do not speak out then, we bow only to the
conditioned and accept the endlessness of suffering and the perpetuation of
evil karma. The following lines were written a few days after Archbishop Oscar
Romero, of the Central American republic of El Salvador, had been shot dead on
the steps of his chapel. Romero had roundly condemned the armed leftist rebel
factions for their daily killings and extortions. However, he also pointed out
that these were the reactions of the common people being used as "a
production force under the management of a privileged society... The gap
between poverty and wealth is the main cause of our trouble... And sometimes it
goes further: It is the hatred in the heart of the worker for his employer...
If I did not denounce the killings and the way the army removes people and
ransacks peasants' homes I should be acquiescing in the violence" (Observer newspaper
(London), March 30, 1980).
Finally there is the type of situation in which the truly
massive folly of the conflict and of the contrasting evils may leave nothing to
work with and there is space left only for personal sacrifice to bear witness
to that folly. Such was the choice of the Buddhist monks who burnt themselves
to death in the Vietnam war — surely one of the most savage and despairing
conflicts of modern times, in which a heroic group of Buddhists had for some
time struggled in vain to establish an alternative "third force."
2.8 The good society
The social order to which Buddhist social action is ultimately
directed must be one that minimizes non-volitionally caused suffering, whether
in mind or body, and which also offers encouraging conditions for its citizens
to see more clearly into their true nature and overcome their karmic
inheritance. The Buddhist way is, with its compassion, its equanimity, its
tolerance, its concern for self-reliance and individual responsibility, the
most promising of all the models for the New Society which are an on offer.
What is needed are political and economic relations and a
technology which will:
(a) Help people to overcome ego-centeredness, through
co-operation with others, in place of either subordination and exploitation or
the consequent sense of "righteous" struggle against all things.
(b) Offer to each a freedom which is conditional only upon the
freedom and dignity of others, so that individuals may develop a self-reliant
responsibility rather than being the conditioned animals of institutions and
ideologies. (See "Buddhism and Democracy," Bodhi Leaves No. B. 17)
The emphasis should be on the undogmatic acceptance of a
diversity of tolerably compatible material and mental "ways," whether
of individuals or of whole communities. There are no short cuts to utopia,
whether by "social engineering" or theocracy. The good society
towards which we should aim should simply provide a means, an environment, in
which different "ways," appropriate to different kinds of people, may
be cultivated in mutual tolerance and understanding. A prescriptive commonwealth
of saints is totally alien to Buddhism.
(c) The good society will concern itself primarily with the
material and social conditions for personal growth, and only secondarily and
dependently with material production. It is noteworthy that the 14th Dalai
Lama, on his visit to the West in 1973, saw "nothing wrong with material
progress provided man takes precedence over progress. In fact it has been my
firm belief that in order to solve human problems in all their dimensions we
must be able to combine and harmonize external material progress with inner
mental development." The Dalai Lama contrasted the "many problems
like poverty and disease, lack of education" in the East with the West, in
which "the living standard is remarkably high, which is very important,
very good." Yet he notes that despite these achievements there is
"mental unrest," pollution, overcrowding, and other problems.
"Our very life itself is a paradox, contradictory in many senses; whenever
you have too much of one thing you have problems created by that. You always
have extremes and therefore it is important to try and find the middle way, to
balance the two" (Dalai Lama, 1976, pp. 10, 14, 29).
(d) E.F. Schumacher has concisely expressed the essence of
Buddhist economics as follows:
"While the materialist is mainly interested in goods,
the Buddhist is mainly interested in liberation. But Buddhism is 'The Middle
Way' and therefore in no way antagonistic to physical well-being... The keynote
of Buddhist economics is simplicity and non-violence. From an economist's point
of view, the marvel of the Buddhist way of life is the utter rationality of its
pattern — amazingly small means leading to extraordinarily satisfying
results" (Schumacher, 1973, p. 52).
Schumacher then outlines a "Buddhist economics" in
which production would be based on a middle range technology yielding on the
one hand an adequate range of material goods (and no more), and on the other a
harmony with the natural environment and its resources. (See also Dr. Padmasiri
de Silva's pamphlet The Search for a Buddhist Economics, in
the series, Bodhi Leaves, No. B. 69)
The above principles suggest some kind of diverse and
politically decentralized society, with co-operative management and ownership
of productive wealth. It would be conceived on a human scale, whether in terms
of size and complexity of organization or of environmental planning, and would
use modern technology selectively rather than being used by it in the service
of selfish interests. In Schumacher's words, "It is a question of finding
the right path of development, the Middle Way, between materialist heedlessness
and traditionalist immobility, in short, of finding 'Right Livelihood.'"
Clearly, all the above must ultimately be conceived on a world
scale. "Today we have become so interdependent and so closely connected
with each other that without a sense of universal responsibility, irrespective
of different ideologies and faiths, our very existence or survival would be
difficult" (Dalai Lama, 1976, pp. 5, 28). This statement underlines the
importance of Buddhist internationalism and of social policy and social action
conceived on a world scale.
The above is not offered as some kind of blueprint for utopia.
Progress would be as conflict-ridden as the spiritual path of the ordinary
Buddhist — and the world may never get there anyway. However, Buddhism is a very
practical and pragmatic kind of idealism, and there is, as always, really no
alternative but to try.
2.9 Organizing social action
A systematic review of the different kinds of Buddhist
organization for social action which have appeared in different parts of the
world is beyond the scope of this pamphlet. Some considerable research would be
required, and the results would merit at least a separate pamphlet.
Later we shall introduce three contrasting movements which are
in some sense or others examples of Buddhist social action. Each is related
more or less strongly to the particular social culture in which it originated,
and all should therefore be studied as illustrative examples-in-context and not
necessarily as export models for other countries. They are, however, very
suggestive, and two of the three have spread beyond their country of origin.
2.9A MAINTAINING
BALANCE
Social action needs to be organized and practiced in such a way
as to build upon its potential for spiritual practice and to guard against its
seductions. Collective labor with fellow-Buddhists raises creative energy,
encourages positive attitudes and engenders a strong spirit of fellowship. The
conflicts, disagreements, obstacles, and discouragements which will certainly
be met along the way offer rich meditation experiences and opportunity for
personal growth, so long as scrupulous mindfulness is sustained.
The meditator will learn as much about himself in a contentious
meeting as he will in the meditation hall. Both kinds of experience are needed,
and they complement one another. Social action is a great ripener of compassion
(for self as well as for others), out of the bitterness of the experiences
which it commonly offers. Yet, like nothing else, it can stir up the partisan
emotions and powerfully exult the opinionated ego. The busy, patronizing
evangelist not only gives an undercover boost to his own ego; he also steals
another person's responsibility for himself. However, these dangers are,
comparatively speaking, gross and tangible when set against the no less
ego-enhancing seduction of Other-Worldliness and dharma-ridden pietism. Such
"spiritual materialism," as Chogyam Trungpa calls it, has long been
recognized as the ultimate and most elusive kind of self-deception which threatens
the follower of the spiritual path.
The seduction lies in being carried away by our good works, in
becoming subtly attached to the new goals and enterprises we have set
ourselves, so that no space is left in our busily structured hours in which
some saving strength of the spirit can abide. Here is opportunity to learn how
to dance with time — "the river in which we go fishing," as Thoreau
called it, instead of neatly packaging away our lives in it, or letting it
dictate us. And in committee lies the opportunity of slowly turning the hot,
lusty partisanship of self-opinionated confirmation into the kind of space and
dialogue in which we can communicate, and can even learn to love our most
implacable opponents.
It is therefore important that both the individual and the group
set aside regular periods for meditation, with periods of retreat at longer
intervals. It is important also that experience and the feel of the social
action project should as far as possible be shared openly within the Buddhist
group.
In our view, the first social action of the isolated Buddhist is
not to withhold the Dharma from the community in which he or she lives. However
modest one's own understanding of the Dharma, there is always some first step
that can be taken and something to be learned from taking that step. Even two
or three can be a greater light to one another, and many forms of help are
often available from outside such as working together through a correspondence
course, for example, or listening to borrowed audiocassettes.
For the reasons given earlier it is important that social action
projects should, where possible, be undertaken by a Buddhist group rather
than each individual "doing his own thing." And since the Buddhist
group will, in most Western countries, be small and isolated, it is important
that the work be undertaken in co-operation with like-minded non-Buddhists.
This will both use energies to better effect since social action can be very
time- and energy-consuming, and create an even better learning situation for
all involved. Forms of social action which are high on explicit giving of
service and low on conflict and power situations will obviously be easier to
handle and to "give" oneself to, though still difficult in other
respects. For example, organizing and participating in a rota of visits to
lonely, long-stay hospital patients would contrast, in this respect, with
involvement in any kind of local community development project.
2.9B SPIRITUAL
CENTERS: EXAMPLE AND OUTREACH
In this section we are concerned with the significance of
Buddhist residential communities both as manifestations and examples of the
"good society" and as centers of social outreach (mainly, though not
solely, in the form of teaching the Dharma). We may distinguish four possible kinds
of activity here.
In the first place, any healthy spiritual
community does, by its very existence, offer to the world a living example not
only of the Good Life but also of the Good Society. Certain spiritual values
are made manifest in its organization and practice in a way not possible in
print or in talk. On the other hand, the purely contemplative and highly
exclusive community can do this only in some limited, special and arguable
sense.
In the second place, where the members of such
a community undertake work as a community economically ("Right
Livelihood"), then to that extent the community becomes a more realistic
microcosm of what has to be done in the wider world and a more realistic model
and example of how it might best be done.
Thirdly, such communities are commonly teaching
and training communities. This may be so in formal terms, in that they offer
classes and short courses and also longer periods of training in residence, in
which the trainees become veritable community members. And it may be true in
terms of the "openness" of the community to outsiders who wish for
the present to open up their communication with the community through some
participation in work, ritual, teaching, meditation.
Fourthly, the community might involve itself in
various kinds of outside community service, development or action beyond that
of teaching, and beyond the necessarily commercial services which may sustain
the community's "Right Livelihood." Examples might be running a
hospice for the terminally ill, providing an information and advice center on a
wide range of personal and social problems for the people of the local
community, and assisting — and maybe leading — in various aspects of a socially
deprived local community. The spiritual community thus becomes more strongly a
community within a community. In this kind of situation would the spiritual
community draw strength from its service to the social, the "lay"
community, creating an upward spiral of energy? Or would the whole scheme
founder through the progressive impoverishment and corruption of the spiritual
community in a vicious downward spiral?
In the Eastern Buddhist monastic tradition the first and third
aspects (above) are present. In contrast to Christian monasticism, monks are
not necessarily expected to be monks for life, and the monasteries may have an
important function as seminaries and as long and short stay teaching and
training centers. On the other hand, economically such communities are commonly
strongly sustained by what is predominantly Buddhist society. In the West there
are now similar communities in all the main Buddhist traditions. Although these
are to some extent sustained also by lay Buddhist contributions, their income
from training and teaching fees may be important. And whether it is or not, it
is clear that their actual and potential training and teaching role is likely
to be very important in non-Buddhist societies in which there is a growing
interest in Buddhism. A good example is the Manjusri Institute in the United
Kingdom, which is now seeking official recognition for the qualifications which
it awards, and which could eventually become as much part of the national
education system as, say, a Christian theological college. Such an integration
of Buddhist activity into the pattern of national life in the West is, of
course, most welcome, and opens up many new opportunities for making the Dharma
more widely understood.
The above developments may be compared with the communities
which form the basis of the Friends of the Western Buddhist Order (FWBO). In
these, our second aspect (above), that of Right Livelihood, is found, in
addition to the first and third.
The FWBO was founded in 1967 in the United Kingdom by the Ven.
Maha Sthavira Sangharakshita, a Londoner who spent twenty years in India as a
Buddhist monk and returned with the conviction that the perennial Buddhism
always expresses itself anew in each new age and culture. The FWBO is concerned
with building what it calls the "New Society" in the minds and
practice of its members. Opening the FWBO's London Buddhist Center, Ven.
Sangharakshita was reported as saying that the New Society was a spiritual
community composed of individuals who are "truly human beings: self-aware,
emotionally positive people whose energies flow freely and spontaneously, who
accept responsibility for their own growth and development, in particular by
providing three things: firstly, a residential spiritual community; secondly, a
co-operative Right Livelihood situation; and thirdly a public center, offering
classes, especially in meditation" (Marichi, 1979).
The FWBO does in fact follow a traditional Mahayana spiritual
practice, but within this framework it does have, as the quotation above
suggests, a strong Western flavor. This owes much to the eleven co-operatives
by which many of the eighteen autonomous urban communities support themselves.
These businesses are run by teams of community members as a means of personal
and group development. They include a printing press, graphic design business,
photographic and film studio, metalwork forge, and shops and cafes.
Membership of the communities (which are usually single sex),
varies between four and thirty people, and often the community members pool
their earnings in a "common purse." The FWBO comprises Order members,
Mitras (who have made some initial commitment) and Friends (supporters in
regular contact). Each community is autonomous and has its own distinctive
character. Attached to communities are seven Centers, through which the public
are offered talks, courses and instruction in meditation. Regular meetings of
Chairmen of Centers and other senior Order members, supported by three central
secretariats, are planned for the future, but it is not intended to abridge the
autonomy of the constituent communities, each of which is a separately
registered legal body.
The FWBO is growing very rapidly, not only in the United Kingdom
but also overseas, with branches in Finland, the Netherlands, New Zealand,
Australia, the USA, and, interestingly, in India, where a sustained effort is
being made to establish centers.
2.9C COMMUNITY
SERVICES AND DEVELOPMENT
We refer in this section to the fourth aspect distinguished
early in the previous section 2.9b, namely, various possible kinds of service
and support which may be given by organized Buddhists to the local community in
which they live. The FWBO does not undertake this kind of activity (see
previous section for examples), and in fact there do not appear to be anymajor examples
of it in the West.
Arguably if this kind of work is undertaken at all, it might
more likely be initiated by a non-residential "lay" Buddhist group,
whose members as householders and local workers may have strong roots in their
town or neighborhood. As an example of what can be achieved by a relatively
small group of this kind, we quote the following (from The Middle Way, 54
(3) Autumn 1979, p. 193):
"The Harlow
Buddhist Society have recently opened Dana House, a practical attempt to become
involved with the ordinary people of the town and their problems. The new
center... has four regular groups using it. The first is an after-care service
for those who have been mentally or emotionally ill. The center is there for
those in need of friendship and understanding. The second group is a
psychotherapy one, for those with more evident emotional problems. It is run by
an experienced group leader and a psychologist who can be consulted privately.
The third group is a beginners' meditation class based on the concept of 'Right
Understanding.' The fourth group is the Buddhist group, which is not attached
to any particular school of Buddhism.
"Peter Donahoe writes: 'We have endeavored to provide a
center which can function in relation to a whole range of different needs, a
place of charity and compassion, where all are welcomed regardless of race,
color, sex or creed, welcomed to come to terms with their suffering in a way
which is relative to each individual.'"
However, on the whole, it is only in the East, in societies in
which Buddhist culture is predominant or important, that there are sufficiently
committed Buddhists to play a part in extensive community service and
development projects. For example, in Japan there are several such movements
and we shall refer in the next section to one example — Soka Gakkai, a movement
which also plays a number of other roles. We must first, however, turn our
attention to a pre-eminent example of a Buddhist-inspired movement for
community development, the Sarvodaya Shramadana Movement of Sri Lanka.
"Sarvodaya" means "awakening of all" and
"Shramadana" means "sharing of labor," making a gift of
time, thought and energy. This well describes what is basically a village
self-help movement, inspired by Buddhist principles and founded in 1958 as part
of a general national awakening. It is now by far the largest non-governmental,
voluntary organization in Sri Lanka.
The Movement learned in its earlier days how very important
non-economic factors are in community development, and its projects combine
spiritual-cultural with socioeconomic development. "One important element
that cannot be improved upon in Buddhist villages in particular is the unique
place of the temple and the Buddhist monk, the one as the meeting place, the
other as the chief exponent of this entire process." (All quotations are
from the pamphlet Ethos and Work Plan, published by the
Movement.) Founded on traditional culture, Sarvodaya Shramadana is ultimately
"a nonviolent revolutionary movement for changing man and society."
At the same time it aims to retain the best in the traditional social and
cultural fabric of the community.
Village development projects are undertaken on the initiative of
the villagers themselves. To begin with the community is made aware of the
historic causes that led to the impoverishment and disintegration of the
community and of its cultural and traditional values. Economic regeneration is
only possible if there is a restoration of social values within the village. It
is emphasized that the community itself must take the initiative in removing
obstacles to development and in learning the new skills needed to carry through
a change of program. The volunteers brought in to help serve only as a
catalyst. Action is focused initially on Shramadana Camps in which villagers
and outside volunteers work together upon some community project such as a road
or irrigation channel. The experience of such Camps helps to develop a sense of
community. Local leaders, working through village groups of farmers, of youth,
of mothers and others, emerge to take increasing responsibility for a more or
less comprehensive development program. This may include pre-school care for
the under-fives, informal education for adults, health care programs, and
community kitchens, with co-operation with State agencies as appropriate. By
1980, Sarvodaya was reaching 3,500 villages and was running 1,185 pre-schools.
Essential to these community development programs in Sarvodaya
Shramadana's system of Development Education programs, operating through six
Institutes and through the Gramodaya centers each of which co-ordinates
development work in some twenty to thirty villages. The movement also provides
training in self-employment for the youth who compose the largest sector of the
unemployed. Although the main thrust of activity has been in rural areas, the
Movement is also interested in urban community development where conditions are
favorable and there is local interest.
The main material support for the movement comes from the
villagers themselves, although financial and material assistance has also been
received from overseas.
It is argued that the basic principles of Sarvodaya Shramadana
can be adapted to developed as well as developing countries, and Sarvodaya
groups are already active in West Germany, the Netherlands, Japan and Thailand.
"The rich countries also have to helped to change their purely
materialistic outlook and strike a balance, with spiritual values added to the
materialistic values of their own communities so that together all can build a
new One World social order."
2.9D POLITICAL
ACTION AND MASS MOVEMENTS
Although there may be exceptional circumstances in certain
countries, as a general rule there are strong arguments against Buddhist groups
explicitly aligning themselves with any political party. It is not just that to
do so would be irrelevantly divisive. As we have noted in section 2.6 (above),
there are deeper, underlying social and political realities which cross-cut the
conventional political spectrum of left, right and center.
Nevertheless, Buddhism, like other great religious systems,
inevitably has political implications. To some extent these seem to be
relatively clear, and in other senses they are arguable and controversial.
Religion has its own contribution to make to politics and, ultimately, it is
the only contribution to politics that really matters. It has failed both
politically and as religion it falls either into the extreme of being debased
by politics or of rejecting any kind of political involvement as a kind of
fearful taboo. The fear of creating dissension among fellow Buddhists is
understandable, but if Buddhists cannot handle conflict in a positive and
creative way, then who can?
On closer examination we shall find that it is not
"politics" that requires our vigilance so much as the problems of
power and conflict inherent in politics. Indeed, a better use of the term
"political" would be to describe any kind of power and conflict
situation. In this sense a Buddhist organization may be more intensely and
unhappily "political" in managing its spiritual and practical affairs
than if and when its members are discussing such an "outside" matter
as conventional politics. Indeed, any such discussion of social and political
questions may be banned by a Buddhist society which may be in fact intensely
political in terms of underlying power and conflict with which its members have
not really come to terms. All kinds of organizations have problems of power and
conflict and derive their positive dynamism from the good management of these,
but the dangers of self-delusion seem to be greater in religious bodies.
When we meet Buddhists and get to know them, we find that even
when they do not express explicit opinions on political and social matters, it
is clear from other things they say that some are inclined to a conservative
"establishment" stance, some are of a radical inclination, and others
more dissident still. Since the diversities of THIS and THAT exist everywhere
else in the conditioned world, even Buddhists cannot pretend to exclude
themselves from such disturbing distinctions. This is not really in question.
What is in question is their ability to handle their differences openly and
with Buddhist maturity. And, as we have tried to show earlier, this maturity
implies a progressive diminution of emotional attachment to views of THIS and
THAT, so that we no longer need either in order to sustain our identity in the
world and have in some sense transcended our clinging by a higher
understanding. We still carry THIS or THAT, but lightly and transparently and
manageably — without ego-weight. If we did not still carry them, how could we
feel the Compassion forsamsara, for ourselves as well as others?
Alan Watts wrote a suitably controversial little pamphlet on
this subject, entitled Beat Zen, Square Zen and Zen (City
Lights Books, San Francisco, 1959). The following passage may be found helpful
to our present discussion; what the author has to say about Zen is surely no
less applicable to Buddhism as a whole. Watts argues that the Westerner who
wishes to understand Zen deeply "must understand his own culture so
thoroughly that he is no longer swayed by its premises unconsciously. He must
really have come to terms with the Lord God Jehovah and with his
Hebrew-Christian conscience so he can take it or leave it without fear or
rebellion. He must be free of the itch to justify himself. Lacking this, his
Zen will be either 'beat' or 'square,' either a revolt from the culture and
social order or a new form of stuffiness and respectability. For Zen is above
all the liberation of the mind from conventional thought and this is something
utterly different from rebellion against convention, on the one hand, or
adapting foreign conventions, on the other."
In the West, individual Buddhists have been particularly
attracted to pacifist, disarmament, and environmentalist movements and parties.
These movements have profound concerns, which, arguably, undercut the
expediencies of conventional party politics. On the other hand, are they not
made the more attractive by a certain political innocence, as yet uncorrupted
and unblessed by the realities of power? And do they not also underestimate the
karma of power and property?
However, in Western and other non-Buddhist countries Buddhist
political action of any kind is little more than speculative. Buddhists are few
in number, and their energies are necessarily fully occupied with learning and
teaching. Teaching is the major form of social action and we have already
discussed certain social action implications of the spiritual community. Social
action at most verges upon certain possible kinds of service to the wider
community or even participation in community development. We have already
suggested the merit of such enterprises. But as to politics, using the word
conventionally, in the West and at the present time, that can be no more than a
matter for discussion in Buddhist groups. As always,
individual Buddhists and perhaps informal groups will decide for themselves
about political action or inaction.
However, in countries where there are strong Buddhist movements,
well rooted in society, some kind of political stance and action seems
unavoidable and, indeed, logical and natural, though conventional party
political alignments may generally be avoided.
For example, Sarvodaya Shramadana's success at the higher levels
of village self-development depends on "the extent that unjust economic
arrangements such as ownership of means of production, e.g., land in the hands
of a few, administrative system and political power structures, are changed in
such a way that the village masses become the true masters of their own selves
and their environment. That the present government has gone very far in this
direction is amply demonstrated when one examines the radical measures that
have already been taken" (Sarvodaya Shramadana pamphlet Ethos and
Work Plan, p. 31).
For large and explicitly Buddhist movements filing a variety of
different roles, from the devotional to the so-called "New Religions"
which have become particularly important in Japan in the post-war period. (Some
mention has already been made of the small discussion groups which are a
notable feature of Rissho-Kosei-Kai — The "Society for Establishing
Righteousness and Family Relations".) With their strong emphasis on
pacifism, brotherly love, and mutual aid, these organizations have done much to
assist the recovery of the Japanese people from the trauma of military
aggression and the nuclear explosions which terminated it.
Soka Gakkai (literally, "Value Creation Society") is
perhaps the most striking of these Japanese Buddhist socio-political movements.
It is a lay Buddhist organization with over fifteen million adherents,
associated with the Nichiren-Sho-Shu sect.
Soka Gakkai has an ambitious education and cultural program, and
has founded its own university, high school and hospital. It also has a
political party, Komeito — the "Clean Government Party," which as
early as 1967 returned twenty-five parliamentary candidates to the Japanese
lower house, elected with five percent of the national vote. The party has
continued to play an important part in Japanese political life, basing itself
on "the principles of Buddhist democracy" and opposition to
rearmament. Soka Gakkai is a populist movement, militant, evangelical and well
organized, pledged to "stand forever on the side of the people" and
to "devote itself to carrying out the movement for the human
revolution" (President Daisaku Ikeda). More specifically, its political
achievements have included a successful confrontation with the mineowners of
Hokkaido.
Attitudes to Soka Gakkai understandably differ widely. It has
been criticized by some for its radicalism and by others for its conservatism;
certainly it has been criticized on the grounds of dogmatism and aggressiveness.
Certainly it is imbued with the nationalist fervor of Nichiren, the 13th
century Buddhist monk who inspired it. Although it has some claims to
missionary work in other countries, Soka Gakkai appears to have a more
distinctive national flavor than the other social action groups we have looked
at and to be less suitable for export.
2.9E
"UNIVERSAL RESPONSIBILITY AND THE GOOD HEART"
Elsewhere we have already quoted the words of the Dalai Lama
emphasizing the active global responsibility of Buddhists, and the importance
above all of what he calls "Universal Responsibility and the Good
Heart." In all countries will be found non-Buddhists, whether religionists
or humanists, who share with us a non-violent, non-dogmatic and non-sectarian
approach to community and world problems, and with whom Buddhists can work in
close cooperation and with mutual respect. This is part of the "Good
Heart" to which the Dalai Lama refers. "I believe that the embracing
of a particular religion like Buddhism does not mean the rejection of another
religion or one's own community. In fact it is important that those of you who
have embraced Buddhism should not cut yourself off from your own society; you
should continue to live within your own community and with its members. This is
not only for your sake but for others' also, because by rejecting your
community you obviously cannot benefit others, which actually is the basic aim
of religion" (Dalai Lama, 1976).
Mr. Emilios Bouratinos and his colleagues of the Buddhist
Society of Greece have framed certain farsighted proposals for the
"rehumanization of society" which have Buddhist inspiration but which
seek to involve non-Buddhist ideological groups with the aim of reaching some
common ground with them on the organization of society. Mr. Bouratinos argues
that Buddhists should address themselves "to all people somehow inspired
from within — whether they be religionists or not. This is indispensable, for
we Buddhists are a tiny minority in the West and yet we must touch the hearts of
many if this world is to survive in some meaningful fashion" (Letter to
the author, 15 May 1980).
Certainly in the West many Buddhists will maintain that it is
necessary to take one step at a time, and that for the present our individual
and collective action must go into the inner strengthening of our faith and
practice. They would doubtless agree on the importance of teaching the Dharma,
which we have characterized as one of the important forms of social action, but
they would argue that the seduction of other kinds of social action, and the
drain of energy, are greater than the opportunities which it can afford for
"wearing out the shoe ofsamsara." They would argue that
the best way to help other people is by personal example.
This pamphlet concedes some possible truth to the above position
but also offers a wide range of evidence to the contrary, to which in
retrospect the reader may now wish to return. Whatever we may feel about it,
certainly the debate is a worthwhile one since, as we have seen, it points to
the very heart of Buddhism — the harmony, or creative equilibrium, of Wisdom
and Compassion. And as in all worthwhile debates, the disagreement, and, still
more, the possible sense of disagreeableness which it engenders, offers each of
us a valuable meditation.
The needs and aptitudes of individual differ, and our debate
will also appear differently to readers in different countries with different
cultural backgrounds. Though we are brothers and sisters to one another, as
Buddhists each must light his or her own way. To the enquiring reader who has
little knowledge of Buddhism and yet who has managed to stay with me to the end,
I offer my apologies if I have sometimes seemed to forget him and if my
explanations have proved inadequate. For
"This is where words fail: for what can words tell
Of things that have no yesterday, tomorrow or today?"
Of things that have no yesterday, tomorrow or today?"
— Tseng Ts'an
To a world knotted in hatreds and aggression and a host of
follies, grand and mean, heroic and base, Buddhism offers a unique combination
of unshakable equanimity and a deeply compassionate practical concern. And so
may we tread lightly through restless experience, riding out defeats and
discouragements, aware always of the peace at the heart of things, of the
freedom that is free of nothing.
Brandon, David, "Zen and the art of helping,"
Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1976.
Chogyam Trungpa, "The Myth of freedom and the way of
meditation," Shambhala, 1976.
Chuang Tzu, "The Way of Chuang Tzu," trans. Thomas
Merton, Unwin Books, 1970.
Conze, Edward, "Buddhism," 2nd ed., Cassirer, 1974.
Dalai Lama, H.H.XIV, "Universal responsibility and the good
heart," Dharamsala (Library of Tibetan works), 1976.
Dalai Lama, H.H.XIV, reported in "Tibetan Review,"
April 1979, and quoted from Reuter (Paris) News Report, 21st March 1979.
Hakuin, Zen Master, "The Zen Master Hakuin," trans.
P.B. Yampolsky, Columbia University Press, 1971.
Marichi, "Authority and the individual," FWBO
Newsletter No. 41, Winter 1979, 13.
Rahula, Walpola, "What the Buddha Taught," 2nd ed.,
Gordon Fraser, 1967.
Rahula, Walpola, "Zen and the taming of the bull:
Essays," Gordon Fraser, 1978.
Saddhatissa, H., trans., Kalahavivada-sutta (Sutta-Nipata),
"Buddhist Quarterly," 11(1), 1978, 1-3.
Sangharakshita, M.S., "Peace is a fire," Windhorse
Publications, 1979.
Saraha, Treasury of Songs (Doha Kosha), in Conze, E., ed.
"Buddhist Texts," Cassirer, 1954.
Schumacher, E.F., "Small is beautiful: a study of economics
as if people mattered," Blond & Briggs, 1973.
Seng Ts'an, "On trust in the heart," in Conze, E., ed.
"Buddhist Texts," Cassirer, 1954 (trans. Arthur Waley).
Shiki, Haiku, in Henderson, Harold, "An introduction to
Haiku," Doubleday, 1958.
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