Buddhism and Social Action
An Exploration
by
Ken Jones
The Wheel Publication No. 285/286
SL ISSN 0049-7541
Copyright © 1981 Buddhist Publication Society
Buddhist Publication Society
P.O. Box 61
54, Sangharaja Mawatha
Kandy, Sri Lanka
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This edition was transcribed from the print edition in 1995 by Heath Row under
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permission of the Buddhist Publication Society.
Contents
· Acknowledgments
· Part One: The Fundamentals
· Part Two: The Action
· Conclusion
· References
· Note
Acknowledgments
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.
Part One: The Fundamentals
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 the transformation 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 then help 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.
-- (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.
Part Two: The Action
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 of samsara. 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 Buddhism feel, 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."
-- (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 grey 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 act affirming 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 any major 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 for samsara, 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).
Conclusion
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 of
samsara." 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?"
-- 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.
References
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Chogyam Trungpa, "The Myth of freedom and the way of meditation,"
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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
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Rahula, Walpola, "What the Buddha Taught," 2nd ed., Gordon Fraser,
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Rahula, Walpola, "Zen and the taming of the bull: Essays," Gordon
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11(1), 1978, 1-3.
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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
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Note
1. Translated in Everyman's Ethics, The Wheel No. 14.
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