Kristin Scheible
Bard College
Buddhism is a varied tradition, practiced all over the world, embodying forms informed by local traditions and culture as well as maintaining a thread of continuity with the charismatic founder of the tradition, the historical Buddha Siddhartha Gautama. It serves our purpose well to consider the social historical context of the Buddha; he was born into the Kshatriya (warrior/leader) caste, the son of a regional king, expected to take the helm of his kingdom and even become a cakravartin (wheel-turner/universal monarch). In spite of the high expectations of his father the king, the then-bodhisattva renounced temporal authority in the form of his hereditary kingship and its concomitant responsibilities to found an order of renunciants who lived by a new social code. First and foremost among the precepts undertaken by his monks, nuns, and devout people alike was, and is to this day, a promise to abstain from taking life.1 In a moral universe where a given person or animal may have been your mother or daughter in a past life, or may become so in your future, this precept has immediate ethical relevance. As it appears in the Metta Sutta cited by Rupert Gethin as “a text frequently chanted in Buddhist ritual and considered one that brings protection or safety (paritta)”:
One should not wish another pain out of anger or thoughts of enmity. Just as a mother would protect with her life her own son, her only son, so one should cultivate the immeasurable mind to- wards all living beings and friendliness towards the whole world.
Gethin explains:
So, prima facie, the picture is clear: killing living beings — any living being — is a bad thing that leads to an unpleasant rebirth; following the Buddha’s path involves refraining from killing living beings, laying aside weapons, and cultivating the compassion of the Buddha — end of story.2
The Kshatriya Buddha appears to have had a definitive opinion on what is an unavoidable aspect of war, and we might conclude that a war that would involve the taking of any life would be unjust according to the Buddha’s path of practice. In The Ethics of War and Peace, Terry Nardin notes that, “Moral traditions are often seen as doctrinal relics, hardened deposits of past debates,”3 but as we will see, narratives are discursive sites where various meanings are actively negotiated by each community of interpretation. What appears as an absolute moral mandate (ahimsa, non-harm) is, in fact, quite difficult to discern through Buddhist texts, let alone uphold in the varieties of Buddhist practice throughout history.
At the core of the Buddhist doctrine is the rendering of the Four Noble Truths that the Buddha recognized upon his enlightenment: All life is dis-ease (mental and physical, as everything is marked by unavoidable impermanence); there is a cause (which is grasping or craving, clinging to things or ideas in an impermanent world); there is an end (which is nirvana); and there is a path to follow toward that end (the Noble Eightfold Path comprising right view, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right mindfulness, and right concentration). In order to eradicate dis-ease (dukkha), one must transform the root emotional states (the mula, or root, kilesha, or defilements, that drive action) of greed/grasping (lobha), ill-will/hatred (dosa), and delusion (moha) into generosity, compassion and wisdom.
Rupert Gethin shows that for “the Theravada Buddhist tradition there is in the end only one question one has to ask to determine whether an act is wholesome (kusala) or unwholesome (akusala): is it motivated by greed, hatred, and delusion, or is it motivated by nonattachment, friendliness, and wisdom.”4 Buddhism is very much about individual transformation rather than collective evaluation; the individual works on himself first in order to benefit others. Mahinda Deegalle explains:
From a Buddhist point of view, thoughts of violence and violent activities are defilements. They defile oneself and others. Once defiled, they lead to severe conditions. From a Buddhist point of view transformation of defilements for positive thinking is very much needed. This transformation is essential for healthy communities.5
Just war implies a communal concern, a communal appeal to an external sense of justice. But Buddhism is more concerned about the ethical development of each individual. As it is said in the Pali Dhammapada, a canonical text:
Though one might conquer in battle
a thousand times a thousand men,
the one who conquers himself alone
is supreme in battle.6
As we turn to our task, considering whether or not there are Buddhist canonical and post-canonical sources for just war theory, we might consider a translation of our key term “just” into distinctly Buddhist terminology. I would propose the terms kusala and akusala (skillful and unskillful, or wholesome and unwholesome) better represent what we might mean when we say “just” in the Buddhist sources.
War is based on ill-will (even if it is motivated by a good cause). Enmity and ill-will only begets more enmity and ill-will, dukkha for both the victim and perpetrator, aggressor and defender. Elizabeth Harris explains:
Perpetrating or sanctioning the violence of war harms both self and others according to Buddhist text and tradition. The harm done to others is obvious. Rare is the war that does not cause death and injury. The harm done to the perpetrators is linked with the Law of Action (Pali Kamma, Sanskrit karma), which holds that every action, and volition is also considered to be an action, has a fruit (Pali phala) that will affect self and others. Wholesome action, that which is rooted in non-greed and non-hatred, or to give these words their positive spin – self-forgetting compassion, will give rise to positive fruit. Unwholesome action, that which is rooted in greed, hatred and illusion, can produce only the unwholesome for self and others.7
As it says in the Dhammapada:
In this world hostilities are never
appeased by hostility.
But by the absence of hostility
are they appeased.
This is an interminable truth.8
It becomes quite evident that there is no singular predominant understanding of war in Buddhist thought. Most secondary sources that consider violence or war from a Buddhist perspective begin with an apologetic tone, identifying the common image of the peaceful monk or the images of Buddhism as a religion of peace that predominate the western imagination. Canonical sources, the Sutta (Sanskrit Sutra, sermon) and Vinaya (monastic rule) texts contained in the Tipitaka (Sanskrit Tripitaka, “Three Baskets,” the Buddhist canon) purport to proclaim the Buddha’s own perspective. War does factor in this early layer of texts, but primarily through metaphor (which nonetheless reveals something of the textual community’s concerns and lived realities – a fertile metaphor is one that is well understood because it relies on common knowledge). In a second layer of texts, the historical vamsas (chronicles) and the commentaries produced in Sri Lanka (the island that preserved the Theravada lineage, or southern, mainstream Buddhism), we discover extracanonical stories about the Buddha as an intercessor to prevent war, stories of righteous kings engaged in battle to defend the dharma (the Buddhist teaching), and commentaries on canonical texts that deepen and complicate earlier references to things militaristic. If we broaden our inquiry to include other forms of Buddhist thought and to examine moments in history where Buddhist identity has had to confront conflict, we may choose to examine the role of Chinese emperors in the oscillating support and persecution of Buddhism, or the connection between Rinzai Zen Buddhism and the warrior-monks in medieval Japan, or the use of Buddhism in advancing jingoist rhetoric and nationalist concerns in pre-War Japan. Recognizing that it would be impossible to encapsulate over 2,500 years of Buddhist history, spanning the globe, and test observations of historical events against some pure manifestation of doctrine that might definitely answer if the concept of a just war prevails in Buddhist thought and practice, it is nonetheless edifying to consider the questions set forth in the keynote address.
A Buddhist might respond that any such “ought” is the result of an overriding sense of “self,” a misunderstanding of agency. To “justify” suggests the manufacturing of an excuse, a story one might tell oneself to assuage a nagging sense of guilt, or excuse ones complicity in questionable behaviors, or ameliorate the unavoidable repercussions (phala, or fruits) of one’s action (karma). P.D. Premasiri considers the Buddhist understanding of human fallibility of the mind when enmeshed in conflict:
People are psychologically incapable of forming opinions about what is right and wrong, just and unjust, righteous and unrighteous while being immersed in their defiled psychological condition. They may express strong convictions about what is just and right, but when objectively examined they turn out to be mere rationalizations of their pre-conceived notions, desires, cravings, likes and dislikes. When the unwholesome roots of motivation are removed conflicts and disputes no longer arise. When people make decisions about what is right and wrong, just and unjust while they are still affected by the roots of evil, greed, hatred and delusion their judgments are mere rationalizations. What we may conclude from this is that Buddhism allows no place for righteous wars.9
Stanley Tambiah comments that even among the religious, righteous virtuosi, the monks, “important tenets of the religion regarding detachment, compassion, tranquility and non- violence and the overcoming of mental impurities are subordinated and made less relevant to Sinhala religio-nationalist and social reform goals.”10 People are people, susceptible to the kilesas (defilements), the motivating factors that enable war and its justification to assuage the mind. In spite of the premise that there can be no doctrinal support to justify war, as Tessa Bartholomeusz argues:
Buddhists have and do justify war. And while the war that has ensued as a result of territorial claims has no readily identifiable religious component, Buddhist monks and laity alike justify, with Buddhist rhetoric, the predominately Sinhala and predominately Buddhist government’s use of deadly force to quash the LTTE11…I argue that preservation of the integrity of Sri Lanka is tantamount to ‘just cause’ for war. It must also be stressed, however, that those who make arguments for war, based on their interpretation of Buddhism, also maintain that Buddhism demands compassion and non-violence. How to balance the demands of non-violence with the protection of the entire island of Sri Lanka as a Buddhist territory has remained a constant feature of political and religious rhetoric in Sri Lanka since at least the 1890s, when archival resources allow for a comprehensive view.12
The “Buddhist rhetoric” that helps to frame the Sinhalese argument for a “just cause” for war, according to the late Tessa Bartholomeusz, in her ground-breaking work In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka, was rhetoric that had been powerfully and poetically employed by the fifth century compilers of the Pali Mahavamsa, a post-canonical text chronicling the establishment of Buddhism on the island of Lanka as well as the history of the kings who protected it. In the twenty-fifth chapter (“The Victory of Dutthagamani”), the conqueror-king Dutthagamani has concluded a murderous battle against the Damila.13 He begins to feel remorse at having killed so many people (other beings) in battle, and so he solicits the comfort and advice of some monks, “How will there be any comfort for me, venerable sirs, since the slaughter of a great many numbering millions was caused by me?” The monastic advisers respond:
From this act of yours there is no obstacle to the way to heaven. In this world the Lord of Men has slain only one and a half human beings. One was steadfast in the Refuges, and the other the Five Precepts; the remainder were of bad character and wrong views, considered beasts. But in many ways you will cause the buddhasasâna14 to shine, therefore, Lord of Men, drive out the perplexity from your mind!”15
Bartholomeusz explains that “each of the criteria for ‘just cause,’ or what scholars refer to as the most important elements of just-war thought, are expounded by none other than fully-enlightened beings, arahants, living symbols of the dhamma, symbols thus of the duty of non-violence.” Who better to absolve his feelings of guilt than the most highly evolved in his kingdom, a retinue of virtuosi? The one and one-half Buddhists who were killed are considered collateral damage, not to outweigh the greatness expected from this righteous protector of the dhamma who will “cause the buddhasasâna to shine.” Deeming the remainder of those slaughtered to be “no better than beasts” presents us with a problem if we consult the precept of non-harm, as even animals fall under its purview. Mahinda Deegalle argues that this story itself is actually heretical to the Buddha’s teaching, an attempt by a later community wrestling with the moral reality of war, a justification of behaviors not at all Buddhist.16 But the arahants’ explanation provides absolution of guilt and assuaging of remorse for Dutthagâmani, an important role. This example illustrates for the reader outside the text how narratives are active sites for an expanding sense of what we will encounter later, in Walzer’s terms, to be “the moral reality of war.” Inside the narrative, Dutthagâmani’s motives are not explained to be unjust – he was moved to battle in order to protect the dharma rather than forward an expansionist agenda or attain individual fame or glory. Dutthagâmani’s actions might even be considered kusala, skillful.
In 1997 and 1998, Tessa Bartholomeusz interviewed some Sri Lankan Buddhists who show an even later community who find solace and support in this story as they navigate their own moral mire:
Dutugemunu’s saga provides contemporary Buddhists with the criteria to argue for just war (dharma yuddhàya); the saga reminds them of the prospect that they can be faced with conflicting obligations – namely, the obligation of non-violence and the duty to protect the Dharma, which might call for violence. Put differently, according to my informants’ reading, the Mahavamsa’s rendering of ethical duties is based on prima facie responsibilities rather than on absolute duties. In other words, the duty of non-violence can be overridden – though the justification to do so is extremely weighty – if certain criteria are met. In the Mahavamsa, just-war thinking provides a scenario in which Dutugemunu’s violent actions are justified and in which n2on-violence – rendered palpable by Dutugemunu’s guilt – remains the guiding force.17
In the narrative of Dutugemunu’s angst and the arahants’ logic, the monk-author of the text lays the foundation for an internal dialogue regarding ethical responsibilities. Indeed, some of my monk and lay informants volunteered that the story demonstrates that Dutugemunu would have preferred not to have used violence, but nonetheless had a responsibility to engage in a war in order to defend the Dharma. Cast in the language of ethics, the rhetoric hinges on the notion that some ethical obligations, no matter how weighty, must be compromised if there is just cause. In other words, in the Dutugemunu narrative the ethical obligation to practice Buddhist non-violence is compromised for a very good reason, namely the spread or protection of the Dharma, which allows for the arahants’ logic that only one and one-half persons were actually killed, or the idea of proportionality in just-war discourse. And proportionality, or the criterion that in the end more good than evil has been performed, had been met from the point of view of the enlightened beings.18
Donald Swearer suggests, “in stepping back from the text, we might also observe that while its monk-authors ascribed noble motives to Dutugemunu, their own motives may have been more self-serving. Rather than justifying a defensive war as a last resort, they may have been seeking to legitimate a conflict that protected their monastic property.”19 We might also consider the social historical context in which the text comes to life as it provokes a particular rhetorical strategy: there was a resurgence of power in South India that threatened the Lankan people, and the Mahavihara (one particular monastic group) monks responsible for writing this text were simultaneously competing with two other monastic complexes for patronage from the king. Various concerns may have combined to produce this particular narrative. Finally, the structure of the narrative of this particular turn of events – a king in the throes of regret after a particularly important military conquest being reassured, even conformed and fortified, by the dharma – should recall the image of the most powerful icon of dharmic kingship, the king Asoka, to whom we will soon turn. Outside the narrative, the transformative, calming effect of the explanation/justification tendered by his advisors serves to link (for the savvy reader) to the great historical king Asoka.20 This story, prominently featured in the chronicle that argues a particular history for the island of Lanka and Buddhism, illustrates the variety and degrees of “justness” that are negotiated discursively within the narrative and by subsequent readers. Bartholomeusz concludes: “Inasmuch as the just-war thinking reviewed here suggests that, when Sri Lankan Buddhists discuss the war in their country, they are sensitive to the context, it can reasonably be concluded that their thinking, like the Buddhist stories they embody, reflect a type of ethical particularism rather than an ethical system of absolutes.21
Has it ever been so simple as war and peace, that binary opposition? Buddhism in all of its manifestations rejects outright dualism in favor of a vision of interconnectedness, a mutual dependency and causation, of all things (phenomena, their causes, actions, their effects, etc.). Charles Hallisey examined a statement by the Dalai Lama, concluding “that the moral realism of co-dependent origination gives a prudential moral imperative.”22 The Dalai Lama writes:
When we come to see that everything we perceive and experience arises as a result of an indefinite series of interrelated causes and conditions, our whole perspective changes. We begin to see that the universe we inhabit can be understood in terms of a living organism where each cell works in balanced cooperation with every other cell to sustain the whole. If then, just one of these cells is harmed, as when the disease strikes, that balance is harmed and there is danger to the whole. This, in turn, suggests that our individual well-being is ultimately connected both with that of all others and with the environment within which we live… Such an understanding of reality as suggested by this concept of dependent origination also presents us with a significant challenge. It presents us to see things and events less in terms of black and white and more in terms of complex interlinking of relationships, which are hard to pin down.23
Justification is a mental process that comes after the fact – either after actions have been performed that require justification (as in the preceding case of Dutthagamani) or after the initial observations, evaluations, ideations, motivations, and intentions arise. Insofar as justification requires concentrated effort and mental focus, it does have the potential to break down the apparent “black and white” nature of war and peace. But for a Buddhist that would hardly “endanger” a relationship, here classified as “an important distinction between war and peace,” of something integrally, mutual-causally linked. A Buddhist might try to observe rather than justify the causes of war to discern the connective link – and hence way toward – peace. Mahinda Deegalle writes:
In creating a violence-free-context, Theravada Buddhist teachings propose a causal point of view towards violence. Since all phenomena are conditioned, there is nothing in this world that can be claimed to be independent from each other. Because of this inter-dependent nature, various forms of violence are also conditioned by other activities. By analyzing those causes which lead to violence and transforming violent contexts into non-violent social realities, Buddhism shows a way out of the vicious circle of violence.24
Fear may not be the right word here. In Buddhist narratives that provide rich terrain for active ethical orienteering, certain tropes are especially conducive teaching tools. Impending war is a useful literary device in Buddhist texts; it raises the stakes of human actions and delivers a sense of urgency to decision making. War, or at least standing armies and thus the suggestion of possible war, literally serves as a potent deterrent for aberrant behavior, and as we will see, deterrents make for good stories. Being on guard is also a good literary trope. Without war, or the potential for war, a good story might be lost.
In the heart of the Pali canon, in the Samyutta Nikaya (I.82-5) we find the story of Ajatasattu, the ruler of the kingdom of Magadha, who attacks Kosala, its immediate neighbor. The Buddha explains how it works: “Monks, King Ajatasattu…has evil friends, evil companions, evil comrades. Yet, for this day, monks, King Pasenadi, having been defeated, will sleep badly tonight.”25 King Pasenadi of Kosala raises and army and wins the next battle, confiscating Ajatasattu’s army and capturing the king. In this case of a best defense being a good offense, might we find an example of just war? The Buddha explains to the monks:
A man will go on plundering
So long as it serves his ends
But when others plunder him
The plunderer is plundered.
The fool thinks fortune is on his side
So long as his evil does not ripen
But when the evil ripens
The fool incurs suffering.26
Elizabeth Harris argues that this is the closest passage in canonical texts to support a vision of the Buddhist just war theory. She explains that stories like these illustrate “an empirical, context-dependent element in Buddhist ethics,” and that the following principles arise in this story:
·The higher principles of Buddhism condemn war;
·In some circumstances, war, authorized by the State, to defend a people against external aggression can be justified;
·War to take territory is not justified;
·In war, an ethic of compassion is desirable if the proliferation of war is to be stopped.27
But Don Swearer comes to a different conclusion about the story; as a narrative its multivalence points to many possible interpretations. Swearer considers what this tale has to say of the ultimate futility of armed conflict (and we might assume, then, that there is nothing to fear losing if war ceased to occur):
This and other stories of armed conflict in Buddhist texts make clear that today’s victor is tomorrow’s vanquished and vice versa and that karmic justice dictates there is no absolute victory or final solution brought about by armed conflict regardless of the scale of weaponry. The moral of these stories seems to be that armed conflict may or may not bring a short-term benefit, but that there is no such thing as an absolute victory, a war “to end all wars.”28
While war itself might be futile, the image of a standing, powerful army as deterrent, as confirmation of legitimacy, or even as a proselytizing device has an impact on contemporary Buddhists. That standing armies figure prominently in canonical sources gives a basis for justification. Tessa Bartholomeusz discovered the power a canonical reference to an army can have:
The Venerable Rathana cited, among others, the Cakkavatti Sihananda Sutta, which depicts a king, committed to the Dharma, who is flanked by a four-fold army nonetheless. For the monk, these images suggest that even the Buddha, who taught that the paradigmatic Buddhist king is a pacifist, realized that war is a reality of life and that, for defensive measures, war can be justified. For the monk, the Cakkavatti Sihananda Sutta provides the contemporary Sri Lankan government (which is predominately Sinhala and Buddhist) with the Buddhist justification it needs to proceed with the war against the LTTE. A Buddhist layman, the outspoken and controversial Nalin de Silva, suggested that the reason that the king could be righteous and teach pacifism in the first place had to do with his having an army: “only after non-Buddhists saw his army could he pacify them and bring them to Buddhism.” Thus, for de Silva, the army in the sutta is a vehicle for forcing people – through subtle manipulation – to convert to the Dharma. Moreover, in de Silva’s line of thinking, the presence of the army indicates that even a righteous Buddhist king might have to fight a defensive war to protect Buddhism.29
There is no doctrinal justification for militancy. There is no doctrinal support for war. But there must be something of value in the early narratives in pitting war against peace. The vision of the Buddha that the earliest texts convey is one of an intercessor, an ascetic who, because he has removed himself from the trappings of society, escapes the otherwise inescapable tarnish (kilesa) that is the byproduct (moral and literal) of war.
There is a frequently told story from the Vinaya about soldiers converting en masse to Buddhism which became a problem for their boss, the king Bimbisara of Magadha (who, in turn, was an important benefactor of the Buddha and his sangha, or community of monks). The ranks of soldiers were being depleted, while the ranks of the ascetics committed to peace swelled. Some soldiers pondered their particular dilemma:
“We, who go (to war) and find our delight in fighting, do evil and produce great demerit.
Now what shall we do that we may desist from evil doing and may do good?”30
So they decided to take the vows to become monks, pursuing non-harm and protected in their pursuit by the king himself. The military officers, however, weren’t pleased that their excellent troops were defecting and pursuing the religious life, so they petitioned the king who in turn consulted his legal council. The legal council’s response wasn’t headed; it was to behead the head monk who had ordained the troops, rendering them unfit for military service, and to tear out the tongue of the monk who had recited the key verses in the ordination, and to break the ribs of all others in attendance. The king then consulted the Buddha, pointing out that he was in a bind; the monks were under his protection, yet he needed an army. When King Bimbisara suggested that no more troops should be allowed to abandon their dutiful service to the king in his army for ordination into the sangha, the Buddha agreed to this much more humane solution. Obligations to serve out duty to the military would be supported. This rule is on the books – still to this day. Robert Florida suggests this story reveals a “moral queasiness in Buddhism about the legitimacy of war.”31 But it also could reveal the nature of a king’s patronage, or ultimate authority, or the importance of serving out one’s duty. It also clearly illustrates the role of the Buddha as arbiter.
The Buddha frequently is positioned as intercessor in the canonical sources. Far from being disinterested, he appears to relish his position between war and peace as it provides the unique opportunity to activate compassion and do the right thing. In another frequently told story, out of his compassion, the Buddha was moved to prevent a war. The Sakhyas, the Buddha’s own kinsmen, and their neighbors were arguing over water rights during a horrible drought. The Buddha, resorting to his iddhi, or super powers, was able to get the kings to pull back from the brink of shedding blood as “it was not sensible to set flowing rivers of blood for the sake of a little water.”32 It concludes with a eulogy of the virtues of being free from hatred, sickness and desires, those root kilesas or defilements or poisons, even when surrounded by a world enmeshed in them. The root cause of the conflict over the water was greed, one of the three poisons. A war could have been averted is the secular leaders had in fact been more morally sophisticated. Once aggression had begun, greed was joined by hatred and delusion; only the Buddha could stop it.
Another example of the Buddha as intercessor, arbiter, and peacemaker is presented in the first chapter of the Pâli Mahâvamsa, the chronicle that contains the Dutthagamani story we have already encountered and that is frequently employed by contemporary Sinhalese nationalists to justify aggression against the Tamil separatists. Already at the outset of chapter one, the Buddha has made a visit to the island of Lanka after surveying the universe and determining that this island would shine with the dhamma in the future (Mahâvamsa 1.20). Having found the island already populated with less-than-ethically-primed yakkhas (demons), he clears them from the island. But the story for our focus happens with his second visit to the island. He senses that an extended family of nâgas (semi-divine serpent beings) on the island of Lanka are threatening to go to war over rightful possession of a jeweled throne, and he feels compelled to intervene. The Buddha does so with terrorizing manipulation of light; he brings forth darkness to scare the nâgas into submission. When he restores the light, they are primed to accept his intervention and even give him the throne, fully submitting to him.33 The contrasts of war and peace, dark and light, are compelling, as Tessa Bartholomeusz discovered:
The story recounted most frequently by the Buddhists I interviewed during fieldwork in the summers of 1997 and 1998 that lays a foundation for pacifism is that of the Buddha’s alleged second trip to Sri Lanka, recounted in the post-canonical Mahâvamsa. In that story, as some of my informants argued, the Buddha’s actions ‘embody,’ using Hauerwas’s language, the ideology of pacifism: the Buddha interrupts a war between rival factions by inspiring the would-be combatants with a sermon. In short, for some of my informants, that story, as well as canonical injunctions regarding non-violence, promote pacific behavior. At the same time, as other Buddhists maintained, there are narratives, both canonical and post-canonical, which by their very nature run counter to the foundation of Buddhist pacifism and thus allow for war.34
As we have seen, war is unjustifiable according to Buddhist thought although it remains a useful literary device. In practice, however, whether war is justifiable is less clear. One tactic or method to avoid the moral murky ground is encouraged in the Vinaya:
Another clear indication that early Buddhists wanted monastics to keep a very healthy distance from the military is a series of three minor offences detailed in the section of the Vinaya recited twice monthly by the monks and nuns to test their adherence to the discipline. It was improper for a world renouncer to go to see an army fight, to stay more than two or three nights with an army if such a visit were necessary, or to seek out military displays or fighting during one’s stay with the army.35
It is important in Buddhism to surround yourself with others who share similar ethical ideals, or who can support you in your own self-cultivation, and avoid those who cannot. It is akin to a person who has quit smoking; hanging out with smokers is less desirable than surrounding yourself with the type of people who affirm and support the traits, behaviors and virtues you are trying to cultivate. It is all about the company you keep.
Regret can be the basis for future good, and while regret is not justification, it does point to the evil and criminal dimension of war. The Mauryan Asoka (epithets Priyadarsi and “Beloved of the Gods”), the expansionist, paradigmatic Buddhist king (cakkavattin, universal monarch) who reigned from 269-232 B.C.E., regretted war and went so far as to have his regret for the especially bloody Kalinga War etched in stone for future generations to bear witness. Stories of the conquest maintain it was the brutality of this war that prompted a radical change of heart for Asoka and a conversion to Buddhism. While Asoka never said war was criminal, he felt it was an evil he hoped that future generations would eschew. He also reframed the language of the battle, and wished for a transformation from physical warfare, the willful and detrimental conquering of others to bring them into line, to mental warfare, the skillful and beneficial transformation of the self to align with the dhamma. The following comprises the majority of Asoka’s Rock Edict XIII:
The Kalinga country was conquered by King Priyadarsi, Beloved of the Gods, in the eighth year of his reign. One hundred and fifty thousand persons were carried away captive, one hundred thousand were slain, and many times that number died.
Immediately after the Kalingas had been conquered, King Priyadarsi became intensely devoted to the study of Dharma, to the love of Dharma, and to the inculcation of Dharma.
The Beloved of Gods, conqueror of the Kalingas, is moved to remorse now. For he has felt profound sorrow and regret because the conquest of a people previously unconquered involves slaughter, death, and deportation.
But there is a more important reason for the King’s remorse. The Br•manas and Sramanas [the priestly and ascetic orders] as well as the followers of other religions and the householders – who all practiced obedience to superiors, parents, and teachers, and proper courtesy and firm devotion to friends, acquaintances, companions, relatives, slaves, and servants – all suffer from the injury, slaughter, and deportation inflicted on their loved ones. Even those who escaped calamity themselves are deeply afflicted by the misfortunes suffered by those friends, acquaintances, companions, and relatives for whom they feel an undiminished affection. Thus all men share in the misfortune, and this weighs on King Priyadarsi’s mind.
[Moreover, there is no country except that of the Yonas (Greeks) where Brahmin and Buddhist ascetics do not exist] and there is no place where men are not attached to one faith or another.
Therefore, even if the number of people who were killed or who died or who were carried away in the Kalinga war had been only one one-hundredth or one one-thousandth of what it actually was, this would still have weighed on the King’s mind.
King Priyadarsi now thinks that even a person who wrongs him must be forgiven for wrongs that can be forgiven… For King Priyadarsi desires security, self-control, impartiality, and cheerfulness for all living creatures.
King Priyadarsi considers moral conquest [that is, conquest by Dharma, Dharma-vijaya] the most important conquest. He has achieved this moral conquest repeatedly both here and among the peoples living beyond the borders of his kingdom, even as far away as six hundred yojanas [about three thousand miles], where the Yona [Greek] king Antiyoka rules, and even beyond Antiyoka in the realms of the four kings named Turamaya, Antikini, Maka, and Alikasudara, and to the south among the Cholas and P•ndyas [in the southern tip of the Indian peninsula] as far as Ceylon…
Wherever conquest is achieved by Dharma, it produces satisfaction. Satisfaction is firmly established by conquest by Dharma [since it generates no opposition of conquered and conqueror]. Even satisfaction, however, is of little importance. King Priyadarsi attaches value ultimately only to consequences of action in the other world.
This edict on Dharma has been inscribed so that my sons and great-grandsons who may come after me should not think new conquests worth achieving. If they do conquer, let them take pleasure in moderation and mild punishments. Let them consider moral conquest the only true conquest.
This is good, here and hereafter. Let their pleasure be pleasure in morality [Dharma-rati]. For this alone is good, here and hereafter.36
Asoka reveals an absolute at work – it does not matter for him the number injured (“Therefore, even if the number of people who were killed or who died or who were carried away in the Kalinga war had been only one one-hundredth or one one-thousandth of what it actually was, this would still have weighed on the King’s mind.”) so proportionality is a moot point. There is no death that is warranted.
Asoka’s eulogized dharma conquest and profound regret for harm inflicted through war stands in sharp relief to a much later understanding of the justifiability of war from Shaku Soen, a leading Zen priest and teacher of D.T. Suzuki, as he was a Buddhist chaplain attached to the First Army Division writing about his experiences in the Russo Japanese War. While a focus on early twentieth century Japan may seem quite a leap, even divergence, from the canonical and post-canonical sources we have been considering, as we consider whether war is justifiable, evil and criminal, or beautiful it is especially interesting to see the continuities in – and transformations of – Buddhist concepts and language regarding war.
Reflecting on his motivations to serve in the Army, he writes:
I wished to have my faith tested by going through the greatest horrors of life, but I also wished to inspire, if I could, our valiant soldiers with the ennobling thoughts of the Buddha, so as to enable them to die on the battlefield with the confidence that the task in which they are engaged is great and noble. I wished to convince them of the truth that this war is not a mere slaughter of their fellow-beings, but that they are combating an evil, and that, at the same time, corporeal annihilation really means a rebirth of [the] soul, not in heaven, indeed, but here among ourselves. I did my best to impress these ideas upon the soldiers’ hearts.37
Shaku Soen exhibits a particular utilitarian understanding, one might even say an upaya (upaya kaushalya, in Mahayana Buddhism, refers to expedient devices that might prima facie appear morally suspect, but that are especially useful at bringing about desirable ends), of the Buddhist conception of the interconnectedness of all things, pratityasamutpada, that directly challenges the explanation of interconnectedness as the foundation for the avoidance of war we encountered earlier from the Dalai Lama:
Buddhism provides us with two entrances through which we can reach the citadel of perfect truth. One is the gate of love (karuna) and the other the gate of knowledge (prajna). The former leads us to the world of particulars and the latter to realm of the absolute. By knowledge we aspire to reach the summit of spiritual enlightenment; by love we strive to rescue our fellow-creatures from misery and crime. Viewed the vicissitudes of things from the unity and eternity of the religious standpoint, the Dharmadhatu, and everything is one, is on the same plane, and I learn to neglect the worldly distinction made between friend and foe, tragedy and comedy, war and peace, samsara and nirvana, passion (klesha) and enlightenment (bodhi). A philosophical calm pervades my soul and I feel the contentment of Nirvana. For there is nothing, as far as I can see, that does not reflect the glory of the Buddha…. In this world of particulars, the noblest and greatest thing one can achieve is to combat evil and bring it into complete subjection. The moral principle which guided the Buddha throughout his twelve years of preparation and in his forty-eight years of religious wanderings, and which pervades his whole doctrine, however varied it may be when practically applied, is nothing else than the subjugation of evil….38
Shaku Soen is even able to contextualize the evil of war as a necessary exertion of justice:
War is an evil and a great one, indeed. But war against evils must be unflinchingly prosecuted till we attain the final aim. In the present hostilities, into which Japan has entered with great reluctance, she pursues no egoistic purpose, but seeks the subjugation of evils hostile to civilization, peace, and enlightenment. She deliberated long before she took up arms, as she was aware of the magnitude and gravity of the undertaking. But the firm conviction of the justice of her cause has endowed her with an indomitable courage, and she is determined to carry the struggle to the bitter end.
Here is the price we must pay for our ideals – a price paid in streams of blood and by the sacrifice of many thousands of living bodies. However determined may be our resolution to crush evils, our hearts tremble at the sight of this appalling scene…. Were it not for the consolation that these sacrifices are not brought for an egoistic purpose, but are an inevitable step toward the final realization of enlightenment, how could I, poor mortal, bear these experiences of a hell loose on earth?39
In his introduction to Just War in Comparative Perspective, Paul Robinson claims that “theorists are breathing new life” into the study of just war. “This revival of interest is remarkable, since as little as fifteen years ago the just war doctrine, which has existed in various forms for many hundreds of years, was considered to have been rendered ‘obsolete’ by modern warfare and weapons.”40
David Chappell summarizes the Buddhist stance:
Since the cold war is now ended and the world is increasingly open economically, socially, and politically, more aggressive peacework is now possible. Based on Buddhist values of personal virtue, compassion for others, and the need for political inclusiveness, the Buddhist consensus today is to actively reject WMD in order to counter the powerful military-industrial complex and to rechannel resources into global community building.41
A Buddhist may say that modern technologies don’t make excuses or justifications, people make excuses or justifications. These people would be better off rechanneling exertion to justify toward “global community building.”
If the use of technology results in more death, there would be more negative karmic consequences for the user of such weaponry. Just war theory would have to consider to what degree such weapons factor defensively as opposed to offensively. If such technology is employed to avoid harming others, this is a more positive karmic move within an overwhelmingly negative context.
Just war theory must be a secular project, for in the Buddhist case there can be no justification for the willful perpetuation of suffering that comes with war. The Buddhist grounds for avoiding war altogether are understood to be in the realm of psychology – universally applicable – more than religion. P. D. Premasiri explains that according to canonical sources:
[T]he psychology of war is antithetical to the psychology of Buddhist liberation. Liberation is ensured only by the elimination of greed, hatred and delusion. War, whatever form it takes, is produced by greed, hatred and delusion and other ramifications of these basic roots of unwholesome behaviour.42
As suggested above, Buddhist thought can contribute reflection on what it maintains to be “the basic roots of unwholesome behavior.” Buddhism seeks to understand the motivations for human behavior, and to direct human agency toward good or skillful actions (kusula) and away from actions that are morally unskillful (akusala). Premasiri continues:
A Buddhist community, like any other one consists of people of different degrees of moral development. Ordinary lay Buddhists are referred to as persons who enjoy the pleasures of sense (kamabhogino). Here we should note that the pursuit of kama (sense pleasures) is seen in Buddhism as the most proximate psychological cause of conflict. Disputes arise even between members of the same family, of the same caste, race or social group, between nations etc. due to the pursuit of kama. People who are engaged in this pursuit are not liberated beings in the Buddhist sense, for, they are not free from the roots of evil, greed or lust, hatred and delusion. The Mahanidana Sutta describes, in terms of the Buddhist doctrine of dependent origination, how people are driven to conflicts as a result of seeking to secure their cherished possessions. People are strongly attached to their material possessions, their cultural traditions, their belief systems, their values, etc. If they perceive a threat to any of these things to which they are attached the natural tendency is to be drawn into conflict. This is why Buddhism considers conflict as an unavoidable evil in society…43
From the Buddhist point of view, most wars are a consequence of the collectivized emotions ruling over a sound sense of judgment.44
To delve further into the psychological foundations for conflict, one might consult the fifth century, prolific Theravadin commentator Buddhaghosa’s manual Visuddhimagga where a method to develop loving-kindness as a replacement for hatred and anger is developed. Peter Harvey summarizes the difference of this approach from other religious perspectives:
By contrast with the Christian emphasis on not holding ill-will against someone, the Buddhist, particularly Theravada, emphasis is on not holding it within oneself, because of its harmful effects. Several of Buddhaghosa’s reflections are in the spirit of: ‘Whatever harm a foe may do to a foe, or a hater to a hater, an ill-directed mind can do one far-greater harm’45… An example is:
Suppose another, to annoy, provokes you with some odious act, why suffer anger to spring up, and do as he would have you do? If you get angry, then maybe you make him suffer, maybe not; though with that hurt that anger brings, you certainly are punished now.(Visuddhimagga 300)
As communities of people, and as all people are subject to greed, hatred, and delusion, all religions are potentially militaristic. Some, such as Buddhism, present in their doctrinal formulations a premise for peace and a rejection of militaristic action, as we have seen above. Peter Harris reiterates:
Objective, pure, discriminating thought, therefore, is dependent on the health of the senses and this, according to Buddhism, is where the deepest problem lies. For, in the unenlightened person, the senses are ‘programmed’ to operate through greed, hatred and delusion, rooted in ignorance (avijja), unless the ‘doors of the senses’ are guarded closely. That, after all, is why Buddhists would say we are born – the ignorance present in our previous life was not uprooted.46
A Buddhist answer might reframe the question with the emphasis on the agency (“ought we”) rather than the desired effect (“suppress and criminalize war”). An action such as criminalizing would be rendered obsolete if each human agent were able to regulate his or her emotional urges and conform to a moral norm of non-violence. The Buddhist preference to outright legal suppression and criminalization of behaviors would be to cultivate the individual sense of morality and “uproot” at its roots the cause of war.
Of course a life without war would still be a human life; war is but one manifestation of exacerbated conflict, and as conflict is inevitable, the full range of human experience – including coming into conflict with others – would still be available. Deegalle explains that the contact with others is critical in the ethical development of the self:
On the whole, the Pali canon gives clear indications that physical violence cannot be accepted even as a means of solving human and social problems. Its rejection of physical violence is based upon a strong conviction and reflection on the severity of the violent acts. The Dhammapada verses 129-30 draw our attention to a common human situation and reaction in the face of all forms of violence:
All tremble at violence, All fear death, Comparing oneself with others, One should neither kill nor cause to kill. (Dhammapada, v. 129)
All tremble at violence, Life is dear to all, Comparing oneself with others, One should neither kill nor cause to kill. (Dhammapada, v. 130)
This popular Theravada scripture, the Dhammapada, draws our attention to several important factors with regard to violence and human reactions in the face of suffering. It states that (i) all sentient beings fear violent activities. When a rod or any form of violent act falls on them, they become frightened (sabbe tasanti dandassa). (ii) It states, in particular, that all living beings are scared of death (sabbe bhayanti maccuno),(2) (iii) all living beings appreciate their own lives (sabbesam jivitam piyam), (iv) when one is faced with violence, one has to reflect that one’s situation is similar to that of others (attanam upamam katva) because of the very fact that as human beings we love our own lives to be secured. (v) thus, the motivation to avoid violence and protect the lives of others come from the conviction that one’s life is also ‘sacred’ or precious. Abstention from violent activities come from a reflection on the fact that everyone has a similar position towards one’s own life. Thus, the Buddhist notion of protecting all forms of life and avoiding violent activities derive from the fundamental conviction that as one’s life is worthy for oneself, others also have a similar position with respect to their own lives.47
The anthropologist Gananath Obeyesekere argues that “in the Buddhist doctrinal tradition…there is little evidence of intolerance, no justification for violence, no conception even of ‘just wars’ or ‘holy wars.’… one can make an assertion that Buddhist doctrine is impossible to reconcile logically with an ideology of violence and intolerance”48 The doctrinal position is that peace is preferable to the extensive harm – toward oneself and toward others – perpetrated through the act of war. A type of peace is in fact the soteriological goal in Buddhist thought: Nirvana. Nirvana is the cessation of the endless round of rebirths in samsara (“the wandering on,” life and the full range of experiences, positive and negative, and concomitant merit and demerit, that comes with it). Nirvana is often described to be a “snuffing out,” an extinguishing of the fires of samsara, an unbinding, and a stilling of the chaos that is perpetuated by action (karma). So in an ultimate sense, peace is the prize.
In a more proximate way as well, peace is preferable to war, as illustrated through canonical and extracanonical sources above. Yet the human birth, replete with tough ethical negotiations when conflicts arise, is seen to be crucial in the cultivation of the self. One must have the opportunity to make the right decision – in this case, avoidance of war, violence, and harm – if one is to accumulate good merit in this birth to work toward the ultimate goal.
As we saw in the case of the exemplary story of Asoka’s change of heart, war stories of explaining aggression and expressing remorse has, in Buddhist cases, enabled justifications for future emulations and aggressions. Asoka’s transformation from Canda Asoka (Fierce Asoka) to Dharma Asoka through the sobering reflection on war became a model for Dutthagamini’s transformation, at least in the eyes of the fifth century compiler of the Pâli Mahâvamsa and even interpreters in Sri Lanka today. And justifications after the fact are mental constructions, interpretations of events, and do not sufficiently work at eradicating the roots of war.
Another example of how rhetoric from one narrative may support new justifications for war comes from the Theravada country of Thailand. The Mahâvamsa claim that lives lost on the battlefield under Dutthagamani’s advance were “considered beasts” anticipates the militant rhetoric of the outspoken 1970s anti-communist Bhikkhu Kitthiwuttho. Concerned that Thailand might also fall to the communism sweeping Southeast Asia, and echoing perhaps an underlying fear of colonialism, in 1976 Kitthiwuttho delivered a speech entitled “Killing Communists is not Demeritorious,” here summarized by Robert Florida:
He argued that soldiers who protected the nation, Buddhism and the king by killing communists gained more merit than they lost by taking human life. He went so far as to argue that some people were so worthless that killing them was like ridding the body of impurities. The crimes against religion and the death of millions that were taking place in the communist regimes in China, Laos, and Cambodia justified killing to defend the Thai nation.49
Buddhism would not necessarily make the distinction that Walzer defines between a moral state or war as somehow separate from any other lived existence. For the Buddhist imaginaire, morality encompasses the spectrum of good and bad actions that determine, over repetition, over the course of several lifetimes, one’s position. Walzer says that “Reiterated over time, our arguments and judgments shape what I want to call the moral reality of war—that is, all those experiences of which moral language is descriptive or within which it is necessarily employed.” Dropping the particular modifier “of war” brings Walzer’s observation in line with my argument that in Buddhism, stories, including those that highlight war, help to give shape to life as they present sites for ethical negotiation. Restated, then, with critical Buddhist augmentations, the formula becomes, “Reiterated over time, perhaps even lifetimes, our arguments and judgments (and interpretations) shape the moral reality.”
Daniel Kent observed in his fieldwork among the soldiers involved in the recent Sri Lankan war, that the concerns of Buddhist laymen were not about justification, per se, but rather what Walzer calls call the moral reality of war:
When asked about their concerns about war, soldiers and monks spoke in terms of karma and intentionality rather than in terms of justice. Soldiers do not ask monks to justify the civil war, but about the karmic consequences of their actions. Indeed, the vast majority of monks deny that Buddhism can ever condone war. “Will I receive negative karma if I kill the enemy on the battlefield?” many soldiers ask. During sermons to soldiers, monks responded to this explicit and implicit question, easing soldiers’ concerns and attempting to instill in them a positive state of mind that they hope will protect them and reduce the amount of negative karma that the soldiers create on the battlefield.50
As Roger Berkowitz explained in his contribution to this volume,
The moral reality of war, pace Walzer, is shaped by all of society; it may be guided and “fixed by the activity of philosophers, lawyers, and publicists of all sorts,” but these professionals do not have the final say. They cannot, because as John Finnis writes, “sound moral and political deliberation and reflection is not legalistic.” The question of when a war is just is not separable from the question of the intention of the parties—why they fight—which is an ethical inquiry nowhere to be found in the international law of war.51
We have already considered that acts of aggression cannot be claimed to be “Buddhist” acts of aggression, rather the manifestation of underdeveloped moral states in the agent. Presumably acts requiring the application of, and adjudication by, international law might also claim the defense provided by just war theory. But why these acts are perpetrated is answered by neither just war theory nor international law as both are concerned with implications after the fact. Buddhist thought delves deeply into the psychology of “why” that lies behind human action, and practically seeks to circumvent appeal to external theories and laws.
Paul Robinson explains the criteria of a just war comprise both elements initiating it (jus ad bellum) and the actions one may take during it (jus in bello):
[O]ne may righteously wage war if one has: a just cause; legitimate authority; a right intention; a reasonable chance of success; and all other reasonable alternatives to war have been exhausted (the principle of ‘last resort’). One’s actions during war can be considered just if one exercises discrimination in terms of whom one targets; and if the amount of violence one uses is proportionate to the ends one seeks.”52
Regarding jus ad bellum, Buddhist thought centers around Robinson’s third criterion, “right intention.” Granted, right intention (sammâ sankappa) has a loaded meaning for Buddhists, as it is the second spoke of the Noble Eightfold Path (which is the Fourth Noble Truth), a foundation for Buddhist thought and practice. As defined in the canonical Saccavibhanga Sutta:
And what is right intention? The intention for renunciation, for freedom from ill-will, and for harmlessness: This is called right intention.53
Renunciation refers both to the willing renunciation of social expectations and obligations by a monk who becomes an ascetic, but it also refers to the renunciation of akusala (unskillful) behaviors by anyone. Freedom from ill-will means the cultivation of positive mental states to support right intention rather than motivation from the kilesas, the core defilements of greed, hatred and delusion. And harmlessness, ahimsa, means the avoidance of inflicting physical or mental harm on others or on oneself. How, then, in Buddhist perspective, could right intention accommodate the idea of jus ad bellum?
Elizabeth Harris writes:
Buddhist ethics possesses a context-dependent element rooted in the importance it gives to the empirical. However, what it gives to a Just War theory with one hand, it takes away with another. For what Buddhism teaches about the nature of the mind and the arising of human dis-ease mounts a weighty critique of all justification of war. For, if a war is to be truly ‘just’ in Buddhism, those who take the decision to perpetrate war should be free of avijja, ignorance. They should have transcended the urge to relate all sense data to self, or by extension to their own group, ethnicity or nation. They should be able to discern quite clearly right view from wrong view and be able to stop any movement towards papanca, unwholesome proliferation of thought, before it begins. They should be utterly free of any tendency to construct a reality rooted in their greeds and hatreds. Only if these conditions are fulfilled can one be sure that a war us justified.54
Jus in bello presumes jus ad bellum; no actions taken in the throes of war can be considered just if the contributory factors to the war are unjust. Yet Buddhists throughout history have found themselves on all sides of military aggression. As we saw earlier in the reflections of Shaku Soen, valorization of war is even possible from a Buddhist perspective of expedient means. An important counter example to the overwhelming presence of doctrinal and extracanonical texts that support pacifism, or at least present war as a useful literary trope for ethical cultivation, is brought to our attention by Stephen Jenkins in his essay, “Making Merit through Warfare and Torture According to the Arya-Bodhisattva-gocara-upayavisayavikurvana-nirdesa Sutra.” This early Mahayana Sanskrit sutra is not even ambivalent toward war; it presents a vision of a fully militarized Buddha. Jenkins summarizes:
Buddhist kings had conceptual resources at their disposal that supported warfare, torture, and harsh punishments… Here, an armed bodyguard accompanies the Buddha and threatens to destroy those who offend him. Torture can be an expression of compassion. Capital punishment may be encouraged. Body armor and a side arm are among the most potent metaphors and symbols of the power of compassion.55
Once again, we see that Buddhist narratives provide sites for active ethical negotiation and meaning-making. The same text Stephen Jenkins analyzed to discern a valorization of militant might can also be read as a way to explore jus in bello from a Buddhist perspective. Peter Harvey says this text:
teaches that the righteous ruler should seek to avoid war by negotiation, placation or having strong alliances. If he has to fight to defend his country, he should seek to attain victory over the enemy only with the aim of protecting his people, also bearing in mind the need to protect all life, and having no concern for himself and his property. In this way, he may avoid the usual bad karmic results of killing (ASP. 206-8). In war, he should not vent his anger by burning cities or villages, or destroying reservoirs, fruit-trees or harvests as these are ‘sources of life commonly used by many sentient beings who have not produced any faults’, including local deities and animals (ASP. 197).56
There is abundant evidence in Buddhist texts and traditions to support a view of Buddhism as a primarily peaceful religion. Martin Luther King, Jr. nominated the Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh for a Nobel Peace Prize; other more recent Buddhist nominees include the Cambodian monk Maha Ghosananda and Sri Lankan social reformer A.T. Ariyaratne. The 1989 Nobel Peace Prize went to His Holiness the Dalai Lama, then the secular and spiritual head of the Tibetan people, living in exile in India, and in 1991 it was awarded to the Burmese General Secretary of the National League for Democracy Aung San Suu Kyi, who has endured decades of house arrest by the military junta in Burma. Yet many seemingly contradictory pictures emerge of militant strands in Buddhist thought and practice, not just among the laity but among sangha members as well. Rationales are forged to support militaristic agendas, yet war cannot be called “just” ever in the Buddhist context as justice is not adjudicated but accreted through one’s actions through lifetimes. There is no one who can even name war “just,” let alone decide if it meets prima facie criteria. There is only one’s actions, karma, that carry moral weight (positive, negative, or neutral) and accumulate or cancel each other out in the various rounds of rebirth. Just war as a concept in applied to the Buddhist moral universe, where there is no judge, is an incomprehensible category to meander through the moral complexities, the absolutes (such as non-harm) that clash with the proximate particularisms, encountered in lifetimes.57 The ultimate goal is peace:
There is no doubt that the ultimate goal of Buddhism is to overcome conflict primarily at the level of individual consciousness. This is evident from the answer that the Buddha had given to a person who questioned him about the doctrine he propounded. The doctrine of the Buddha is such that one who lives in accordance with it succeeds in living in the world without coming into conflict with anyone (na kenaci loke viggayha titthati). The Buddhist path of moral development is described as the noble and incomparable path of peace (anuttaram santivarapadam). The requirements of the Buddhist path are considered to be fulfilled when one’s mind attains perfect peace (santim pappuyya cetaso). Nibbana, the utimate attainment can be described as the attainment of inner peace (ajjhanta santi).58
Bartholomeusz, Tessa. In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2002)
_____. “In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 6 (1999)
Chappell, David W. “Buddhist Perspectives on Weapons of Mass Destruction,” in Ethics and Weapons of Mass Destruction: Religious and Secular Perspectives, edited by Sohail Hashmi and Steven Lee (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press)
Deegalle, Mahinda. “Theravada Attitudes Towards Violence” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 10 (2003)
Florida, Robert E. “Buddhism and Violence in Modernity,” in The Twenty-First Century Confronts its Gods: Globalization, Technology, and War, edited by David J. Hawkin (Albany: SUNY Press, 2004), 173-188.
Hallisey, Charles. “Buddhist Ethics: Trajectories” in The Blackwell Companion to Religious Ethics, edited by William Schweiker (Malden, MA : Blackwell Pub., 2005)
_____. “Ethical Particularism in Theravada Buddhism” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 3 (1996)
Harris, Elizabeth J. “Buddhism and the Justification of War: A Case Study from Sri Lanka” in Just War in Comparative Perspective, edited by Paul Robinson (Ashgate, 2003)
Harvey, Peter An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics: Foundations, Values, and Issues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000)
Jerryson, Michael and Mark Juergensmeyer, editors. Buddhist Warfare (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010).
Nanamoli, Bhikkhu and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha (Boston: Wisdom, 1995)
Nardin, Terry ed. The Ethics of War and Peace: Religious and Secular Perspectives (Princeton, NJ.: Princeton University Press, 1998).
Nathanson, Stephen. Terrorism and the Ethics of War (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010)
Nikam, N.A. and Richard McKeon, editors and translators, The Edicts of Asoka (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959)
Obeyesekere, Gananath. “Buddhism, Nationhood, and Cultural Identity,” in Fundamentalisms Comprehended, Martin E. Marty and R. Scott Appleby, ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995)
Premasiri, P. D. “The Place for a Righteous War in Buddhism” Journal of Buddhist Ethics (Volume 10, 2003)
Robinson, Paul, ed. Just War in Comparative Perspective (Ashgate, 2003)
Seiko, Hirata, “Zen Buddhist Attitudes to War,” in Rude Awakenings: Zen, the Kyoto School, and the Question of Nationalism, edited by James W. Heisig and John C. Maraldo (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1994), 3-15
Sharf, Robert H. “Whose Zen? Zen Nationalism Revisited,” in Rude Awakenings: Zen, the Kyoto School, and the Question of Nationalism, edited by James W. Heisig and John C. Maraldo (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1994), 40-51.
Tambiah, Stanley Jeyaraja. Buddhism Betrayed? Religion, Politics, and Violence in Sri Lanka (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992)
Victoria, Brian Daizen Zen at War (New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers; 2nd edition, 2006)
Wallis, Glenn, trans., The Dhammapada: Verses on the Way (New York: Random House, 2007)
1 The first five virtues (pañca-sîla) are abstaining from the following behaviors: killing, stealing (taking what is not given), sexual misconduct, false speech, ingesting intoxicants.
2 Rupert Gethin, “Can Killing a Living Being Ever Be an Act of Compassion? The Analysis of the Act of Killing in the Abhidhamma and Pali Commentaries” Journal of Buddhist Ethics (Volume 11, 2004), 168 (Gethin cites Suttanipata 148-150).
3 Terry Nardin, ed. The Ethics of War and Peace: Religious and Secular Perspectives (Princeton, NJ.: Princeton University Press, 1998), 10.
4 Rupert Gethin, “Can Killing a Living Being Ever Be an Act of Compassion? The Analysis of the Act of Killing in the Abhidhamma and Pali Commentaries” Journal of Buddhist Ethics (Volume 11, 2004), 168.
5 Mahinda Deegalle, “Theravada Attitudes Towards Violence” Journal of Buddhist Ethics (Volume 10, 2003), 91.
6 Dhammapada 103; Glenn Wallis, translator, The Dhammapada: Verses on the Way (New York: Random House, 2007), 23.
7 Elizabeth J. Harris, “Buddhism and the Justification of War: A Case Study from Sri Lanka” in Just War in Comparative Perspective, edited by Paul Robinson (Ashgate, 2003), 94.
8 Dhammapada 5; Glenn Wallis, translator, The Dhammapada: Verses on the Way (New York: Random House, 2007), 4.
9 P. D. Premasiri, “The Place for a Righteous War in Buddhism” Journal of Buddhist Ethics (Volume 10, 2003), 159.
10 Stanley Jeyaraja Tambiah, Buddhism Betrayed? Religion, Politics, and Violence in Sri Lanka (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 59.
11 Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, the separatist group that attempted to secure a Tamil homeland in the north and east of Sri Lanka; the civil war between the Sinhalese (mainly Buddhist) majority and the LTTE lasted from 1983 until 2009. See Tessa Bartholomeusz, In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2002)
12 Tessa Bartholomeusz, Journal of Buddhist Ethics 6 (1999): 3.
13 The text classifies the Dâmila, led by King Elâra “the usurper”, as occupiers of what is rightfully a Buddhist land. Dâmila is often translated as Tamil, so this particular chapter that eulogizes the violent victory of Dutthagâmani fueled Sinhalese Nationalist justifications for aggression against LTTE.
14 The tradition, teachings, and institutions of Buddhism.
15 Mahâvamsa XXV.108-111.
16 Mahinda Deegalle, “Is Violence Justified in Theravada Buddhism,” in Michael Jerryson and Mark Juergensmeyer, editors. Buddhist Warfare (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010).
17 Tessa Bartholomeusz, “In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 6 (1999), 10.
18 Ibid., 9-10. Regarding “proportionality,” Bartholomeusz evokes the work of James Childress, Moral Responsibility in Conflicts (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1982), 77.
19 Donald K. Swearer, “Buddhism and WMD: An Oxymoron?” in Ethics and Weapons of Mass Destruction: Religious and Secular Perspectives, edited by Sohail Hashmi and Steven Lee (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 243.
20 I argue elsewhere that this context-sensitive reading makes more sense than more than an anachronistic reading to provide a justification (or a charter) for future absolution in the civil war that raged in Sri Lanka from 1983-2009. See Kristin Scheible, “For the Anxious Thrill and Serene Satisfaction of Good People:” Rethinking the Pâli Mahâvamsa (Ph.D dissertation, Harvard University, 2006).
21 Tessa Bartholomeusz, “In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 6 (1999), 11. Here Bartholomeusz borrows categories from Charles Hallisey, “Ethical Particularism in Theravada Buddhism” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 3 (1996): 32-43. I note that Hallisey provides a more nuanced way to consider the range of the “moral reality” than others; here I am thinking of Steven Collins and his articulated two modes of dhamma regarding attitudes towards violence – 1) assessment of violence is “context-dependent and negotiable,” and 2) “an ethic of absolute values” – where assessment is “context-independent and non-negotiable.” Steven Collins, Nirvana and other Buddhist Felicities: Utopias of the Pali Imaginaire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p.420; quoted in Elizabeth J. Harris, “Buddhism and the Justification of War: A Case Study from Sri Lanka” in Just War in Comparative Perspective, edited by Paul Robinson (Ashgate, 2003), 100.
22 Charles Hallisey, “Buddhist Ethics: Trajectories” in The Blackwell Companion to Religious Ethics, edited by William Schweiker (Malden, MA : Blackwell Pub., 2005), 321.
23 Dalai Lama, Ethics for the New Millennium (New York: Penguin Putnam, 1999), 4; cited in Charles Hallisey, “Buddhist Ethics: Trajectories” in The Blackwell Companion to Religious Ethics, edited by William Schweiker (Malden, MA : Blackwell Pub., 2005), 321.
24 Mahinda Deegalle, “Theravada Attitudes Towards Violence” Journal of Buddhist Ethics (Volume 10, 2003), 88.
25 Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha (Boston: Wisdom, 1995), 177.
26 Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha (Boston: Wisdom, 1995), 178.
27 Elizabeth J. Harris, “Buddhism and the Justification of War: A Case Study from Sri Lanka” in Just War in Comparative Perspective, edited by Paul Robinson (Ashgate, 2003), 100. Bullet points in the original.
28 Donald K. Swearer, “Buddhism and WMD: An Oxymoron?” in Ethics and Weapons of Mass Destruction: Religious and Secular Perspectives, edited by Sohail Hashmi and Steven Lee (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 242.
29 Tessa Bartholomeusz, “In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 6 (1999), 4. She cites an interview she had with Nalin de Silva in Maharagama on July 30, 1998.
30 Vinaya, Mahavagga, I.40, verse 2, p.194.
T.W. Rhys-Davids and Hermann Oldenberg, Vinaya Texts, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, Sacred Books of the East, three volumes, 1881ff, reprinted, Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1966), Mahavagga VI.31, SBE, vol.XVII, pp.108-117.
31 Robert E Florida: Buddhism and Violence in Modernity, in The Twenty-First Century Confronts its Gods edited by David J. Hawkin (SUNY, 2004), 174.
32 Watson Burlingame, trans., Buddhist Legends translated from the Original Pali Text of the Dhammapada Commentary, vol.3 (London: P•li Text Society, 1969), pp.70-72. Retold by Robert Florida in “Buddhism and Violence in Modernity,” in The Twenty-First Century Confronts its Gods: Globalization, Technology, and War, edited by David J. Hawkin (Albany: SUNY Press, 2004), 175.
33 See Kristin Scheible, “Priming the Lamp of Dhamma: the Buddha’s Miracles in the Pâli Mahâvamsa,” Journal of the International Association of Buddhist Studies Volume 33, Number 1–2, 2010 (2011) pp. 429–445
34 Tessa Bartholemeusz, “In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 6 (1999), 3.
35 Robert E. Florida, “Buddhism and Violence in Modernity,” in The Twenty-First Century Confronts its Gods: Globalization, Technology, and War, edited by David J. Hawkin (Albany: SUNY Press, 2004), 175. Also see Vinaya IV.104-7.
36 N.A. Nikam and Richard McKeon, editors and translators, The Edicts of Asoka (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959), 27-30.
37 Shaku, Sermons of a Buddhist Abbot, p.203, quoted in Brian Daizen Victoria, Zen at War (New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers; 2nd edition, 2006), p.26.
38 Ibid.
39 Shaku, Sermons of a Buddhist Abbot, p.199-203, quoted in Brian Daizen Victoria, Zen at War (New York: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers; 2nd edition, 2006), 26-27.
40 Just War in Comparative Perspective, edited by Paul Robinson (Ashgate, 2003)
41 David W. Chappell, “Buddhist Perspectives on Weapons of Mass Destruction,” in Ethics and Weapons of Mass Destruction: Religious and Secular Perspectives, edited by Sohail Hashmi and Steven Lee (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 213.
42 P.D. Premasiri, “The Place for a Righteous War in Buddhism” Journal of Buddhist Ethics (Volume 10, 2003), 160
43 Ibid.
44 Ibid., 162
45 Harvey cites Dhammapada 42.
46 Peter Harvey, An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics: Foundations, Values, and Issues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 103.
47 Mahinda Deegalle “Theravada Attitudes Towards Violence” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 10 (2003), 85-86.
48 Gananath Obeyesekere, “Buddhism, Nationhood, and Cultural Identity,” in Fundamentalisms Comprehended, Martin E. Marty and R. Scott Appleby, ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), 233.
49 Robert E. Florida, “Buddhism and Violence in Modernity,” in The Twenty-First Century Confronts its Gods: Globalization, Technology, and War, edited by David J. Hawkin (Albany: SUNY Press, 2004), 179.
50 Daniel Kent, “Onward Buddhist Soldiers: Preaching to the Sri Lankan Army,” in Buddhist Warfare, edited by Michael K. Jerryson and Mark Juergensmeyer (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 159.
51 Roger Berkowitz – this text.
52 Just War in Comparative Perspective, edited by Paul Robinson (Ashgate, 2003), 1.
53 MN 141 PTS: M iii 248
54 Elizabeth J. Harris, “Buddhism and the Justification of War: A Case Study from Sri Lanka” in Just War in Comparative Perspective, edited by Paul Robinson (Ashgate, 2003), 105.
55 Stephen Jenkins, “Making Merit through Warfare and Torture According to the Arya-Bodhisattva-gocara-upayavisaya-vikurvana-nirdesa Sutra” in Buddhist Warfare, edited by
Michael K. Jerryson and Mark Juergensmeyer (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 59.
56 Peter Harvey, An Introduction to Buddhist Ethics: Foundations, Values, and Issues (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 253.
57 And yet inner conflict, such as that which one endures when confronting ostensibly contradictory morally didactic passages in primary sources as we have in this brief survey of Buddhist thought, is just the place where the moral work happens. Charles Hallisey points to the utility of encountering multiple contexts and rationales, including challenging or contradictory depictions: “…through close attention to the moral life of others, as it is made immediately available to us in stories, we come to develop a sense of judgment that allows our own moral decisions to be acutely sensitive to the context in which they are made-so much so that we begin not only to appreciate the possibility that some general truths are evident before us in a particular case, allowing us to recognize a prima facie duty as such, but also that we begin to feel comfortable with the possibility that precisely those features which might count in favor of a given action in one context may count against it in another. Thus, in Theravadin commentarial literature, the Buddha is portrayed as intervening in one case to ensure the safe delivery of a child, against the demands of karma, while in another case, he uses the grief that comes from the death of a child to bring a mother to a spiritual awakening. In one case he encourages monks to support their dependent parents with the property of the monastic order; in another case, he encourages monks to keep their distance from their families. Charles Hallisey, “Ethical Particularism in Theravada Buddhism” Journal of Buddhist Ethics Volume 3 1996: 42.
58 P. D. Premasiri, “The Place for a Righteous War in Buddhism” Journal of Buddhist Ethics (Volume 10, 2003), 156. He cites Majjhimanikaya (Pali Text Society, London), vol. 1, p. 109.