Buddhist Warfare Read online

  The topic of warfare introduces the larger category of violence. Violence is a slippery term to define, as many astute scholars such as Walter Benjamin, Emmanuel Levinas, and Jacques Derrida have shown. The act of “violating” another person can take many subtle forms. Bruce Lawrence, for instance, regards violence as a “process” of domination that is endemic in the human condition.10 A similar breadth is found in the Sanskrit term for violence, hisa. Hisais the root of ahisa, the word for nonviolence made popular by Mohandas Gandhi. The literal definition of hisa means “to desire to harm.” In this volume, however, the authors will confine themselves to the simplest definition of violence—inflicting physical injury or death on another person—whether portrayed symbolically or as part of a social act, such as punishment or warfare.

  Buddhist violence is by no means limited to the scope of warfare. For instance, the ethical justification for killing animals for food is much debated throughout Buddhist traditions; there have been and continue to be differing opinions on this issue. Whereas most Chinese Buddhist traditions have prescribed a vegetarian lifestyle, Tibetan and Mongolian Buddhist traditions wholeheartedly have embraced the practice of slaughtering animals for sustenance. Aside from splinter groups such as Santi Asoke that prohibit their monks from eating meat, Theravdin Buddhist monks in countries such as Sri Lanka, Burma, and Thailand are required to accept any food offered to them, meat or otherwise.

  Other instances of Buddhisms’ relationship with violence relate to recent technological and medical developments. The issue of abortion is a case in point. In Tibetan Buddhism, the Fourteenth Dalai Lama has tacitly condoned abortion in specific circumstances, rationalizing the need for this form of violence.11 In Japan after an abortion, Buddhist women participate in the ceremony Mizuko Kuyo in order to appease possibly wrathful spirits. Medical advances also have introduced the topic of euthanasia. The ethics of euthanasia is debated among Buddhist scholars, many of whom equate it with suicide. According to the Vinaya (monastic guidelines), people commit a sin if they encourage another person to commit suicide; however, the action of the person who commits suicide is much more ambiguous and doctrinally debated.

  Suicide as a form of martyrdom for political purposes is particularly controversial within Buddhist circles. Some of the most well-publicized examples of this type of Buddhist suicide occurred during the U.S. war in Vietnam, when Vietnamese monks immolated themselves, sacrificing what they regarded as their impermanent bodies to trigger a change in social consciousness. While their intentions were nuanced by a unique context, monastic suicides are not uncommon in the Buddhist traditions. One infamous example of monastic suicide occurred following the Buddha’s lecture on detachment and meditating on the loathsomeness of the body. Shortly after the lecture, the Buddha went into seclusion for fifteen days and then returned to find that over a hundred monks were dead, either by suicide or by asking a local recluse, Migalandika, to kill them. In this instance, only those who deprived others of life were condemned to excommunication.12 Suicides abound in the Buddha’s birth stories (Skt. jtaka), when the Buddha sacrifices himself for the greater good; they also exist in the biography of the historical Buddha, Siddhrtha Gautama (Pli: Siddhattha Gotama). It is said that Siddhartha was fully aware of his eventual demise when he accepted ill-prepared pork.

  Thus, issues of violence have been part of the ethical choices of Buddhists as individuals throughout history. These issues have also been part of the structural and systemic patterns of political organizations and institutions for many centuries. The present-day proponents of these forms of organized Buddhist violence often refer to Buddhist mythohistories that justify violence, histories that are rife with tales of warfare.

  In Buddhisms, as in every religious tradition, warfare is related to religion in several different ways. Some wars are conducted to defend a Buddhist community against enemies from a different faith. In other instances, it is two different schools of Buddhists that clash with each other over which version of the faith is valid and which community is stronger. In yet other instances, Buddhist ideas and monastic leaders have lent their legitimacy to wars that otherwise might have been characterized simply as wars of defense, conquest, or vengeance. In Sri Lanka, for instance, members of the Buddhist political party Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP) were alleged to have blurred the lines between sacred duty and murder; they traced their justifications back to the Sinhalese mythohistorical chronicle called the Mahvasa. In this work, the Buddhist king Dutthagamani wages a sacred war against foreign invaders led by Tamil king Era in the second century BCE. In the contemporary Buddhists’ view, the killing of Tamil heathens did not constitute murder because Tamil warriors were neither meritorious nor, more important, Buddhist.13

  Chinese Buddhist revolts during the sixth century framed the fight as between the Buddha and his legendary nemesis Mra, the god of desire and illusion. Under the leadership of Faqing, Chinese Buddhist monks murdered barbarians as part of the larger cosmic battle against Mra. In some accounts, Faqing is labeled as the messianic figure Maitreya.14 There are also military activities relating to the millenarian accounts of Buddhism, which often revolve around the buddha-to-be, Maitreya (Pli: Metteya). Between 1699 and 1959, in eight revolts against Siamese and Thai governments, Buddhist revolutionaries held to a belief in imminent catastrophes that were to be followed by material bliss. Half of these revolts centered on the coming of Maitreya (Thai: Si Ariya).15

  Buddhist messianic violence persists in contemporary times, with the latest violent outbreak occurring in Japan. In 1995, Asahara Shk’s Aum Shinriky unleashed Sarin nerve gas into the Tokyo subway, killing a dozen people and injuring many more. Part of Aum Shinriky’s ideology is based on the Lotus stra, one of the most popular and influential stras (scriptures) in Mahyna Buddhism.

  Buddhist battles also have occurred due to ideological differences between Buddhist traditions. This is especially evident in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, whose history includes battles between different schools of Buddhist thought over issues of political and ideological supremacy. Derek Maher’s chapter in this book, “Sacralized Warfare: The Fifth Dalai Lama and the Discourse of Religious Violence,” explores one of these moments. Examples may also be found in other Buddhist traditions of wars that were fought in order to spread Buddhist beliefs. The Indian Klacakratantra describes an eschatological war in which the army of the bodhisattva king of Shambhala conquers and annihilates Muslim forces and reestablishes Buddhism.16 And in Japan, Zen became a mechanism of the state and a motive to fight—to convert the heathens. Japanese Buddhist military objectives in the early 1900s were to kill unbelievers and to convert their state to Buddhism. In accordance with Mahyna principles, people who were not enlightened would be reborn; therefore, there was no true destruction of life. Once the state became Buddhist, unbelievers would be reborn in a Buddhist country. Brian Victoria writes that, in this context of Buddhist war, murder becomes a form of upya (skillful means), since sentient beings are ultimately saved.17 When Buddhist states have attempted to preserve Buddhist principles and values, popular forms of Buddhist nationalism and fundamentalism have been simultaneously elicited.18

  Thus, the chapters in this book contain examples that span both centuries and countries. All of these cases of bloodshed counter the popular (and also exoticized) notion that Buddhism is an entirely pacifist—and, in this sense, mystical—religion. In fact, these chapters reveal that, in regions where Buddhism is part of the ideology of statecraft, there is a pervasive tendency for Buddhists to sanction state violence. For instance, in this volume, Michael Jerryson’s and Daniel Kent’s ethnographic works on Buddhist monastic practices highlight the important distinction between how Buddhism is lived as opposed to how it is taught or perceived. This distinction reveals that, in some cases, the practices of Buddhist monks have become inextricably intertwined with military exercises and charged with violent rhetoric.

  This insight into the violent side of Buddhist monastic practices has bee
n confirmed by some of the most distinguished scholarly observers of Buddhist culture. For instance, the violence was noted by the Chinese Buddhist scholar J. M. M. de Groot in his article “Militant Spirit of the Buddhist Clergy in China,” written in 1891 (an excerpt of which appears in the epigraph of this introduction). While Demiéville rightly critiques de Groot’s textual evidence, the value of de Groot’s insight into the militancy within the Chinese Buddhist traditions remains. This insight and those of other scholars tend to have been neglected in the general discourses on Buddhist studies. The historical examples of monks participating in violence force the question that Brian Victoria addresses in his chapter: does the foundation of Buddhisms forbid violence, or does it provide a space for it? This question is prompted especially in Paul Demiéville’s “Buddhism and War” and in Bernard Faure’s “Afterthoughts.”

  The early period of South Asian Buddhism provides an understanding of the politicized nature of Buddhisms and, more important, of Buddhisms’ ambiguous platform concerning violence. As Stephen Jenkins, Derek Maher, and Xue Yu discuss in this volume, early ambiguity toward violence could explain how Buddhist practices reached the point of advocating compassionate killings. Buddhist doctrine and practice, from their nascency, grew within a state-supported politicized environment. This political climate deeply affected monastic decisions and ultimately affected the Buddha’s discussions and judgments on state (kingdom) violence.

  Some scholars speculate that the militant side of Buddhism can be traced to its founder, Siddhrtha Gautama, purportedly born between 500 and 400 BCE in what is now Nepal. A common epithet for Siddhartha Gautama is kyamuni—Sage of the kyas. According to Romila Thapar, the kya clan—although having a ruler—was part of a greater governmental network called gaa-sanghas.19 Siddhrtha, prior to the spiritual enlightenment that transformed him into the Buddha—the Awakened One—was a member of the warrior caste. He was raised to be the ruler of his clan and had an intimate knowledge of statecraft, particularly of the gaa-sanghas. It was this governmental structure that deeply affected the construction of Buddhist monasticism, later called the sangha. As a prince growing up, the future founder of Buddhism was inculcated in an environment imbued with practices of diplomacy and warfare. He was well aware of the regional gaa-sanghas, oligarchies that lacked a monarch. These regional oligarchies had a joint council of princes or local dignitaries who made decisions for the collective states. These governmental systems were usually wrought through financial successes, i.e., merchants-cum-rulers, and were adverse to the Brahmanical system of support. Uma Chakravarti and Thapar note that, by the time Siddhartha founded Buddhism, the powers of the gaa-sanghas were waning in North India.20 Eventually, they would fall before the might of two expanding monarchies: Magadha and Kosala.

  While early political structures informed and helped to construct Buddhist monasticism, the first Buddhist sangha affected the early polities around it. One example of this is in the relationship between state and sangha laws within the kingdoms of Magadha and Kosala. Bridging the notion that the Buddhist sangha was adapted from the political structure of gaa-sanghas, Buddhist sangha monks (Pli: bhikkhu; Skt. bhiku) acted like foreign diplomats and were thus accorded immunity to state laws. There are documented cases in the Vinaya of state officials appealing to either the Magadhan or Kosalan ruler to intervene and punish monks for various incidents; yet, in all accounts, the ultimate decisions were deferred to the Buddha. In one instance, a king’s guard was suspected of thievery by Buddhist monks, and the Buddha tried the case. His verdict was then accepted by the king.21

  This political influence was not one-sided, however. State laws and state pressure made an enormous impact on Buddhist interdictions. The resulting tension between advocating morality and maintaining positive state relations became a constant presence in Buddhist societies. In Kent’s chapter in this volume, “Onward Buddhist Soldiers: Preaching to the Sri Lankan Army,” he carefully assesses the actions of Buddhist monks as they preach to Sinhalese soldiers. The situation he describes exemplifies the resulting tensions between advocating morality and maintaining positive state relations—and how they are still evident in the twenty-first century. While many of the monastic codes of conduct (Pli: Vinaya) pertain to internal issues of purity, many were the result of tensions generated through the Buddha’s diplomacy with Magadha and Kosala. In another chapter in this volume, “Militarizing Buddhism,” Michael Jerryson discusses contradictions between the Buddhist interdiction against ordaining soldiers and the reinterpretations that are necessary to support state needs. During the time of the Buddha, a high rate of soldiers abandoned their posts. In order for the sangha to continue to enjoy the critical financial support of the Magadha and Kosala kingdoms, it was crucial that it prevent derelict soldiers and criminals from finding refuge in the sangha.

  Thus, the interdictions placed upon the sangha during the time of the Buddha can be seen as the result of compromises necessary in order to maintain the monks’ immunity to state rules. Subsequent conflicts did arise in Theravda history between the sangha and state. In circumstances such as in Ceylon, where kings had the power to banish monks from the island, this immunity has been redrawn. During the time of the Buddha, there had been a shift in the strengths of political systems. Previously, gaa-sanghas had been the more powerful system in northern India (as in the Licchavis), but by the time of Buddhisms’s institutional growth, they were being replaced by centralized monarchies. The expanding kingdoms of Magadha and Kosala turned to the Buddhist sangha for support and guidance, particularly with respect to issues of morality. For instance, the Magadhan ruler Ajtasatta asked the Buddha’s advice before invading the neighboring kingdom of Kosala.22 This instance demonstrates not only the important influence of the Buddha and the sangha upon state decisions, but also the high regard in which they were held by the state. The ruler of Kosala (Pasenadi) was an avid supporter of the Buddha; in seeking the Buddha’s advice, Ajtasatta might have wanted to reduce or avoid angering the Buddhist sangha. The implication is that the sangha had political leverage and power similar to that of a kingdom.

  From Buddhisms’s inchoation, we find that kingdoms were important stakeholders in supporting the sustenance and growth of Buddhist monasticism, and Buddhist doctrine reflected the importance of state relations. One political influence that brought together the sangha and the state was the Buddhists’ promulgation of a social contract. In the Dgha Nikya, the Mahsammata goes into a great deal of detail over the rights of citizens and their rulers. Similar to Hobbes’s Leviathan or even the political ideas of John Locke, the Dgha Nikya stresses the intertwined obligations of citizens and their ruler. The ruler was morally bound to protect his citizens and to maintain a civilized society. If the ruler failed to uphold these responsibilities, the citizens were justified in disregarding the ruler’s legitimacy. This is explicitly detailed in a dialogue between the Buddha and King Pasenadi. As if to illustrate the ruler’s motivations for following this social contract, the Buddha explains the systematic degradation of society, starting with the ruler. A celestial society that upholds the dhamma (in this case, the “rule”) begins to break down when the ruler disregards the teachings of the Buddha and fails to protect the civility of his kingdom. When poverty arises, it in turns brings about criminality, and finally there is absolute chaos throughout the kingdom.23 As described in Brian Victoria’s “A Buddhological Critique of ‘Soldier-Zen,’” the Japanese used and extended this rationale for preserving the kingdom in order to justify their empire building.

  Though the social contract bound Buddhist rulers to a civic obligation, it also conceded to them certain rights to violence. There are detailed references to this in “Legalized Violence,” Vesna Wallace’s account of Mongolian state-sanctioned torture. Anthropologist Stanley Tambiah has written extensively on Buddhist traditions in Thailand and Sri Lanka; he indicates that texts on Buddhist civic obligations predominantly emphasize their application when the king is ruling, rather than in how t
he king reaches the throne and assumes power.24 The most famous of these cases is the Mauryan emperor Aoka who, after massacring thousands of people and conquering most of South Asia, converted to Buddhism and then enjoyed a peaceful, stable reign. Buddhist monks and texts often herald Aoka for his peaceful rule, yet few focus on the bloody prequel to his rise to power. Balkrishna Gokhale points out that Aoka never disbanded his army after his Buddhist epiphany. Gokhale notes that “history knows of Buddhist kings who have waged wars, often very devastating, against other Buddhist kings.” This leads one to conclude that, while Buddhist ideology was adopted by states, the ideology did not preclude the states from perpetrating violence. Gokhale hypothesizes, “Buddhists recognized that they had little influence in the matter of war and territorial acquisition and felt that the most they could do in these matters was to influence the minds of kings to keep the horrors of wars within reasonable limits.”25 This hypothesis became actualized in the thoughts of twenty-first-century Sri Lankan monks who, according to Daniel Kent’s account, rationalized their sermons to the Sinhalese military in similar terms.

  There is no consistent platform from which the Buddha propounds on state violence. Even in situations in which a king is ruling, violence has been ambiguously noted within the texts. As Stephen Jenkins states as the main theme of his chapter in this volume, “Making Merit through Warfare According to the rya-Bodhisattva-gocara-upyaviaya-vikurva-nirdea stra,” dhamma (in this context, “order”) becomes an issue requiring compromise: it permits the ruler the right to rule—and to enforce his rule through violence. At the same time, any transgression of Buddhist dhamma (in this case, the “social contract”) would result in a fall from grace and would lead the ruler as well as his kingdom into unfolding chaos and political delegitimation.