A question that has been coming up a lot lately in various discussions is
this: "According to the teaching of the Buddha, is violence ever justified?"
The short answer is "No." But in a longer answer that probes more
carefully some of the practical dimensions of the human condition, there may
be grounds for modifying this position.
Perhaps the situation is not dissimilar from the two levels of truth found articulated
in Buddhist philosophy, whereby something can be conventionally true but, when
viewed from a higher perspective, can be seen as ultimately an illusion. The
conventional level is appropriate for a certain realm of discourse and shared
experience, but breaks down on a closer level of scrutiny. The ultimate level
may be theoretically true and more accurate, but not very useful for the coarser
mode of discourse and experience at which we so often operate. Neither perspective
entirely falsifies the other-they co-exist.
The principle example of these two levels of truth has to do with persons or
beings. Even the Buddha used reflexive pronouns like "my" body or
feelings, or even "myself," and referred to others quite conventionally
by name, clan, occupation, and so forth. From the perspective of ultimate truth,
as the Abhidhamma and the Mahayana traditions so usefully inform us, the notion
of 'persons' or 'self' or 'being' is illusory.
I would like to suggest, in looking to the Buddhist tradition for guidance in
the midst of current world affairs, that a similar two-level way of understanding
may be appropriate in the ethical realm: Ultimately, all violence will only
plant the seeds of further violence, which will have to work its way out eventually.
This truth, I believe, is unassailable. But conventionally, this does not necessarily
mean that we, as householders with responsibility for the safekeeping of our
families and friends, can and should never make use of violence. What is appropriate
for a monk or nun, grounded as they are in the ultimate perspective and working
towards liberation in this lifetime, might not be the same as what is appropriate
for householders, ministers or kings, who participate in a more practical reality.
A crucial thing to recognize, in my opinion, is the thoroughly psychological
perspective of early Buddhism. The Buddha seems to be much more concerned with
the quality of one's mind at any given moment than by the outward actions and
even the consequences of those actions in the physical sphere. This is a perspective
so different from ours in the mainstream west that it is very difficult for
us to appreciate.
For example, in the Jivaka Sutta (M 55) the Buddha holds a monk harmless for
eating meat that may have been given to him in his begging bowl by a layperson.
If his mind is filled with loving kindness before, during and after the meal,
there is no mechanism by means of which unwholesome karma is produced. On the
contrary, if anyone orders the killing of an animal for the sake of the monks'
meal, five distinct ways are specified in which unwholesome karma is produced.
The point is that it is intention that creates karma, and it is always the intention
of the act that determines its karmic quality.
The Samana (=Wanderers) movement sweeping India at the time of the Buddha, which
both shaped the Buddha's thinking and to which he contributed greatly, was very
much about this fundamental change of perspective. Instead of viewing things
externally and physically, the emphasis shifted to viewing them internally and
psychologically. Instead of "What action should I perform in the world
in this particular situation?" the question became "What inner attitude
should I hold in response to this particular situation?" The action will
follow from the inner stance. Perhaps this shift in perspective could use some
explanation.
Both ritualistic brahmins and secular materialists in India were arguing what
might perhaps be considered a sort of primitive behaviorism. For the brahmins,
human understanding and well-being was a matter of conducting certain rites
that called upon various deities to intervene and protect human endeavor. What
was important was that the ritual was done, and that it was done precisely according
to traditional directions. For the materialists, who ignored anything in the
inner life that went deeper than the gratification of the senses and who denied
the workings of ethics, rebirth and liberation, emphasis was placed upon external
actions that resulted in pleasure, power, prestige and wealth.
The Samana movement (led by Upanishadic sages, Ajivikas, Yogis, Jains, Buddhists
and others), with its roots in the very ancient Indus civilization, drew attention
to the inner landscape of the human mind and body, to the world of personal
experience, in which intentions, desires, states of consciousness and insight
into one's own motivations became the focus. This was a radical transformation
of perspective, and one that Western civilization has taken a long time to catch
up with.
As an example of this transition, we can look at the Upali Sutta (M 56), which
records a conversation between the Buddha and a less progressive Jain follower
about the creation of unwholesome karma. Both parties recognize that action
can be either physical, verbal or mental, but disagree on the relative impact
of each. The Jain argues that physical action is the most reprehensible for
the performance and perpetration of evil actions, and not so much the verbal
or mental action. "What does the trivial mental [action] count for in comparison
with the gross bodily [action]?" The Buddha, on the other hand, points
out the primacy of mental action in a number of ways, in the sense that even
verbal and physical action are guided by-and even performed by-acts of mental
will or volition. As he puts it elsewhere, "Intention is action, I declare;
having intended, one acts-either bodily, verbally or mentally." (A 6:63)
All this is offered as a way of re-contextualizing the opening question. From
the perspective of the Buddhist tradition, it is not so much a matter of "What
acts are justified or not in this situation?" but rather "With what
intention is one abiding in this very moment? What motives are guiding my response
here and now?" Notice that this immediately shifts the issue from a conceptual
analysis of right and wrong, from thinking about appropriate and inappropriate
behavior, to becoming aware of one's personal and intimate intentional relationship
to the moment. This is the practice of introspective awareness; it is both the
heart of the revolution that took place in ancient India, and the heart of the
Buddhist meditative enterprise.
Once we frame the issue this way, the answers begin to become more apparent.
In short, the Buddhists would say that anything rooted in attachment, aversion
or confusion (aka greed, hatred and delusion) will contribute to more of the
same. In the words of the discourses, "This leads to my own affliction,
to the affliction of others, and to the affliction of both. It obstructs wisdom,
causes difficulties, and leads away from awakening." (M 19) Conversely,
any intentional stance, and ultimately any action, that is rooted in generosity,
kindness or wisdom (aka non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion) will contribute
positively to any outcome. How do we apply this to the present situation?
The case against hatred of any kind is clearly articulated by the Buddha and
is followers in unequivocal terms: "Hatreds are never appeased by further
hatred. Only by non-hatred are they appeased. This is always true" (Dhammapada
5). And in even more graphic terms: "Bhikkhus, even if bandits were to
sever you savagely limb by limb with a two-handled saw, he who gave rise to
a mind of hate towards them would not be carrying out my teaching." (Kakacupama
Sutta, M 21) We have heard of this attitude being modeled magnificently by certain
Tibetan Buddhist prisoners under Chinese oppression, and is, I believe, the
answer that any monk or nun needs to give-from the perspective of ultimate truth-to
questions of violent action in response even to horrific criminal acts.
But the story I would like to focus on here has to do with something that emerged
in a discussion with a worldly person, the prince Abhaya of Rajagaha. The conversation
had to do with the Buddha's use of speech. The prince recognized that a person's
always telling the truth was bound to injure others from time to time, if only
because of their own delusions and attachment to views. Is there some basic
incompatibility inherent in the Buddha hurting someone's feelings by speaking
the truth to them? Here is the Buddha's response, from the Abhayarajakumara
Sutta (M 58):
The last section is an attempt to simplify what is drawn out in more detail
in the text. Essentially it is saying that the Buddha (Tathagata) will never
utter speech that is unbeneficial, even if is true and correct, and certainly
not just because it is welcome and agreeable to others. By the same token, he
will speak up if what he has to say is beneficial, i.e. it will help a person
progress on the path-even (and this is the point) if it will be disagreeable
to others and cause them distress. In other words, the harm one might cause
in many cases must be weighed against the good one might do. As the matter is
stated in the Kinti Sutta (M 103): "It is a mere trifle that the other
person will be hurt, but it is a much greater thing that I can make that person
emerge from the unwholesome and establish him in the wholesome."
I find the image of the Prince Abhaya extracting the obstruction from the throat
of the infant to be a compelling one. Here the sentiment is translated from
speech into action. Certain actions may be uncomfortable, may cause some distress,
and may even go so far as to draw blood-but if they are done in the context
of trying to heal or rescue someone from a far greater harm, it is appropriate
action. The same message is given in another story found in the Devadaha Sutta
(M 101):
Friend, suppose a man were wounded by an arrow thickly smeared with poison,
and because of this he felt painful, racking, piercing feelings.
Then his friends and companions, kinsmen and relatives, brought a surgeon. The
surgeon would cut around the opening of the wound with a knife, probe for the
arrow with a probe, pull out the arrow, and apply a medicinal cauterizer to
the opening of the wound, and at each step the man would feel painful, racking,
piercing feelings.
Then on a later occasion, when the wound was healed and covered with skin, the
man would be well and happy, independent, master of himself, able to go where
he likes.
Here again we find an image of short term suffering deliberately inflicted for
a long term good. In both cases the motivation is compassion, a sincere wish
for the infant or the man to be healed, safe, and free from suffering. The experience
of "painful, racking, piercing feelings" might be the same in two
different circumstances, but it makes a world of difference whether they are
inflicted by an enemy trying to torture a person or a physician trying to heal
him. The crucial difference is the quality of intention.
So let us return to the question at hand: "According to the teaching of
the Buddha, is violence ever justified?" It depends entirely upon the quality
of intention. If we can-honestly!-be motivated by compassion for the well-being
of the world, or of our Islamic breathren, or of the people of Afghanistan,
then perhaps the use of some force in extracting the obstruction or pulling
out the poison arrow of violent extremism can be seen, not only as justified,
but even as entirely appropriate. It might accomplish great healing.
Having said this, however, the practice now requires of us a sincere and truthful
self-examination. If our motivation is entirely our own security at the expense
of others, then the focus is too narrow. Because of the interdependence of self
and other, wisdom encourages us to seek a broader outlook that encompasses the
well-being "of ourselves, of others and of both ourselves and others."
The question then becomes one of skill. There is a big difference between the
careful probing of a wise physician or a caring parent, and the ham-handed pounding
of a person in the throes of anger, hatred or revenge. As we know, the forces
of delusion, led by their marshal, self-interest, are very strong in human beings;
we need to be scrupulously on guard against the three unwholesome roots. It
may be relatively clear that a response motivated by greed or hatred is inherently
unskillful, but the influence of delusion is far more subtle. The argument that
violence can sometimes be justified can easily turn into a slippery slope. Moreover,
we can easily forget the ultimate perspective, that any violence we may undertake,
even with compassionate intent, will surely result in more violent consequences-for
ourselves and others.
As always, inquiry following Buddhist principles leads back to the core issue
of developing wisdom. The principle tool for this is a calm, steady and powerful
mind, rooted firmly in an attitude of kindness, generosity and non-attachment,
inquiring deeply and honestly into the interdependence of causes and conditions
unfolding around us in a world that embraces far, far more than simply what
is "me" or "mine." May we all, collectively, have the wisdom
to be skillful-now more than ever.