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Gabriel
Lafitte: This forum will look at the question of
social and political action. We have the opportunity to ask
our panellists to reflect on this subject from the perspective
of the particular traditions that they come from, to draw
out something of the richness of different traditions. Our
panellists include the Venerable Traleg Kyabgon Rinpoche,
founder of the Buddhist Summer School; Ekai Korematsu Oshu,
a Zen teacher in Melbourne; the Venerable Tarab Tulku, founder
of, and contributor to, the transpersonal psychology movement
in Denmark; Lene Handberg, also from the transpersonal psychology
movement in Denmark and Dr Anna Alomes who provided a stimulating
presentation on non-violence.
Ekai
Korematsu Oshu: I would like to start by talking about
Zen Buddhism and the Japanese situation. We cannot just deny
the history of Buddhism in Japan. It was only after the Emperor
Hirohito passed away that the Japanese really had an opportunity
to talk about this topic, because prior to that their love
and respect for the Emperor prevented them from doing so.
As soon as he passed away, however, the subject came to the
surface. It was introduced by scholars, not by the religious
traditions, unfortunately. None of the Buddhist schools were
prepared to talk about it. The circumstances after the World
War were very painful. All the monks had been drafted. People's
sentiments and politics were quite divided. It was a very
sad story.
However, the scholars started to realise that it is very important
to develop clear thinking in relation to politics in religious
traditions and in the scholastic approach to Buddhism. They
felt that Buddhism would only survive if it were culturally
integrated with the people of the time. If Buddhism did not
keep up with the times, it would not survive. Yet, they also
felt that Buddhism had to maintain a level of critical thinking.
If everyone just blindly followed the established traditions
they would lose the real spirit of Buddhism.
As soon
as the Emperor passed away, the Soto school put an effort
into re-educating the monks training and curriculum. Once
a week, they had to study human rights, and examine the concepts
of repentance about the past. The Soto school made a mistake
in the past. It may not have seemed like a mistake at the
time, but with the changes that have taken place in modern
times it has come to seem like a mistake. A couple of renowned
Japanese scholars began forcefully criticising what went wrong.
There is a book, Pruning the Bodhi Tree, which resulted from
a number of studies that have come to be known as 'critical
Buddhism.' They argued that without criticism, there is no
Buddhism. Some very distinguished Buddhist westerners participated
in these discussions and helped the Japanese scholars to come
to a coherent, logical presentation and conclusion. Unfortunately,
Japan has not developed the kind of logical, critical thinking
that is characteristic of the west. However, we now have the
opportunity and change in political climate that has made
it possible for this to change and the Japanese are working
very hard at making this change.
Tarab
Tulku: The system of democracy was very strong from the
beginning of Buddhism in India. It continued in India over
the many centuries and influenced the Tibetan monastic traditions.
For example, I studied at Drepung Monastery, where there were
four colleges with twenty-seven different institutions under
them. All of these institutions had something like a board
of directors. When you come to a monastery, you have different
duties and studies that you need to go through. However, it
does not matter whether you are from a noble family or a peasant
family, you go through the same process and are answerable
to the board of directors. All the decisions of the institution
are decided by these boards, which also have something equivalent
to a chairman. There is a proverb that anyone who has enough
knowledge can rise to the position of chairman.
In Central
Tibet especially, there are Tantric schools where there is
the system of reincarnate lamas. They have different ranking
systems and different hierarchies. It is not quite noble,
but it is very similar. Some of the reincarnate lamas are
higher, some are middle and some are lower and all have property
attached to them. So, in some ways it is similar to a royal
hierarchy. The properties vary in size and are passed down
as inheritance from the lama to his official reincarnation.
However, in some ways, the property just symbolically belongs
to the lama. Even the lamas' power is somewhat symbolic, because
the real decisions are made by the managers of the institutions.
However, the hierarchical system is very strong.
In Buddhism
the 'view' is strongly emphasised. This view is essentially
that of love and compassion and non-violence. This special
view is connected to a way of looking at the essence of oneself
and the essence of reality. That kind of view can also be
incorporated into our political views and influence our social
systems. If we look at modern society, it might not be such
a simple task to incorporate this basic philosophy, or basic
view, but I think it is possible to make this assimilation.
Traleg
Rinpoche: As Buddhists, we have this notion that everything
is impermanent, everything is subject to change. Therefore,
the Buddhist monastic system has always had to deal with the
existing political regimes and various rulers, some of them
just, and some of them not so just. From my readings of Buddhist
history in many different countries, it appears that Buddhism
always reached its peak in those countries when the rulers
were practising Buddhism. This is true of Cambodia, of Laos,
Korea, Japan, Tibet and China. For instance, when China was
at the peak of its cultural excellence, it achieved this under
Buddhist influence. When you look at the amazing Buddhist
artefacts, figurines, paintings and architecture that these
countries produced, things that you will not find in any other
period, it is important to realise that they were produced
by Buddhists with Buddhist ideals in their minds.
Buddhism
and politics were never separate. The Buddha himself was a
prince. Traditionally, we say that he was a prince but, according
to modern sources and authors, he was a princeling. He was
born in a privileged environment and made the decision to
become a renunciant. When he became a renunciant, he became
what is called an itinerant, a wandering monk, and then he
said to himself, 'This is not working.' The Buddha formed
what is called the 'sangha,' something that was unheard of
in those days. In ancient India, you would never see a group
of spiritual people who would congregate in hundreds and thousands,
because they were all individualists and did not abide by
social rules. They did not participate in political systems
of any sort; that is the truth. Buddha said, 'We are going
to have a community of spiritual practitioners,' which he
called the sangha. He had communities of both monks and nuns
and that changed how politics and religion came together,
because when you have communities, social and political issues
arise. If you just have itinerant people wandering about independently,
they do not pose any threat. However, once a community is
formed, that is a concern for the people who are in power.
So, the
Buddhist sangha has always had to deal with the existing political
system. The Buddha was very aware of this. His monks were
not renunciants and they had to deal with people every day.
They had to perform regular service to the existing social
community, in return for food, accommodation, et cetera. They
counselled the lay population in times of suffering or loss.
So, the
Buddha was very conscious of communal affairs and he wanted
to have a group of people whose main focus would be spiritual
growth. That is why the sangha was created, not because Buddha
emphasised the idea of celibacy. People tend to think that
Buddha created the monastic community because he thought that
celibacy was such a good thing. I think, rather, that he found
a temperate lifestyle (the kind that Aristotle in Greece was
talking about) to be the most helpful to spiritual development.
A lifestyle that does not overindulge or self-deprive, or
promote the ascetic practices that other religions promote,
even to this day, such as self-mutilation and self-flagellation.
Buddha
said asceticism is based on the wrong view. To have samma
ditthi, or the 'correct view,' is to follow a temperate life
where we do not overly indulge in excesses of any kind. I
do not have to elaborate on that. I am sure many of you have
done too much of that and you are already tired of it, but
even when you are tired of it, you cannot let go. However,
the idea that we should not do any of these things - 'I have
to be pure, pure, pure, pure,' - is something that the Buddha
himself tried and failed at. He attained enlightenment when
he saw how the relative condition and the absolute condition
must always come together. He called that 'nirvana.'
The notion
of community is very important in Buddhism. If you go to Buddhist
countries you will see Buddhist communities. Even within Buddhist
countries, you have Buddhist communities. They may belong
to different sects or have different affiliations with certain
religious institutions, but community is a very important
thing for Buddhists because that is where all activities take
place. That is where we learn how to cultivate compassion
and tolerance.
Buddhists
are not exclusivist. Even though the notion of communities
is encouraged, we try to be inclusive in our ideals. If you
are a Chinese Buddhist, you can accept a Confucian or a Taoist.
If you are Japanese, a follower of Shinto or Kamei, you learn
to have this inter-racial, inter-denominational, inter-communal
kind of approach, which Buddhism has always had to deal with,
right from its inception.
When the
Buddha first formed the sangha, he had to deal with all kinds
of existing religious systems and traditions. In those days,
not everyone was Hindu. There was Mahavira, who was a contemporary
of the Buddha, and the founder of Jainism. There was a plethora
of religious, spiritual and philosophical activities and the
Buddha had to create a community that would be tolerant of
all that diversity. It was a very fertile environment at that
time, where people could actually subscribe to different lifestyles
and different ways of thinking. Community was not important
for those who pursued the spiritual path. It was only the
Buddha who said sangha is important. You never found that
in any of the other religious traditions existing in India
at that time.
Lene
Handberg: One thing that comes to mind when I think about
the question of the correlation between Buddhism and politics
or social engagement, is a real story, that happened in connection
with some research I was doing with torture victims. These
torture victims were Tibetans coming out of Tibet and the
research was done in the region of Dharamsala. This story
involves a nun who had been brought up far away from Lhasa,
so that her view of the situation was that Tibetans were the
underdogs. She believed that the Chinese were superior and
clever, while the Tibetans were poor and stupid. She managed
to become a nun, which gave her the opportunity to go to Lhasa
one day. There, she was able to hear the real history of Tibet,
which her parents had been unable to tell her for fear of
being excommunicated. It is very difficult for Tibetan parents
to tell their children what happened in Tibet. As a result,
she demonstrated against Chinese rulership at one of the holy
places in Lhasa. I had seen the Chinese soldiers sitting on
the roofs with machine guns and cameras. I said to her, 'You
knew as well as I did that you would be photographed and that
the Chinese would find you in a few days. You must have known
that you would go to goal and be tortured and that you might
die. Why did you make the decision to demonstrate?' I had
assumed that she had demonstrated out of rage after hearing
what the Chinese had really done to her country. I was therefore
very surprised when she said, 'I had to demonstrate, because
I found out what the Chinese are doing and felt that I have
to help them realise that they are creating a very bad future
for themselves.' I was speaking to her after she had fled
from Tibet, after she had been tortured for many years. She
was going to die within two months because her kidneys were
completely smashed. However, she still meant it.
I think
of her as a true Buddhist; she did not have much education
but she had a very strong faith, a very pure heart and an
incredible strength. That kind of strength is only possible
if we are able to develop love and compassion. If we look
at real leadership, the core of Buddhism might be very important
if our leaders could develop this kind of love and compassion.
Dr
Anna Alomes: I think we are talking about the politics
of compassion. When we look at the heights that different
cultures and civilisations have attained through the practice
of the politics of compassion, the practice of Buddhism in
its many forms, we can see that we need to learn something
from that. It is not an accident. In my travels around the
world, I have noticed that the cultures that are operating
within the framework of the politics of compassion, are achieving
what the mandate of politics is supposed to be all about.
That is engaging with their communities and promoting a sense
of well-being, as well as dealing with the conflicts that
naturally arise, in a particular sort of way.
I saw
this at the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission,
when one blind gentleman in a wheelchair was invited to come
before the commission in an environment of compassion and
tolerance. He told his story and heard from the perpetrators
of the violence against him. They were applying for amnesty.
In order to receive this amnesty, they were required to give
a full and transparent disclosure of the truth of their actions
and recognise their responsibility and accountability of them.
Something mysterious takes place when that happens. In the
same way that it is painful to listen to the stories of suffering
while responding non-violently to them.
The gentleman's
story was heard and the perpetrator's story was heard and
the Truth Commissioners thought that was the place to finish.
They waited for the gentleman to leave, but he put his hand
on the wheel of his chair and stopped there, saying, 'I have
something else to say.' They asked him to go ahead and he
said, 'When I came in here I was blind, but now I see clearly,
thank you.' Then he left. The politics of compassion that
allows the telling of a story no matter how painful that is,
that allows a process of healing between those who undertake
those actions of violence and those who have endured that
violence, enables a group of people to move forward and to
become culturally and spiritually enriched.
At the
point where philosophy is engaged in, at that level of moral
and ethical debate, it remains appallingly silent on these
areas. However, these are the areas that inform government
decisions. When we have a legacy of definitions that are so
short-sighted and inadequate that they fail to talk about
the intentions of the agent undertaking those actions, we
have a long way to go. There is no discussion about the person
perpetrating this force. There is a failure to pay attention
to the fact that violence is actually about harm, while non-violence
is not about a lack, or a weakness, but about compassion and
tolerance and interdependence. By joining together the insights
from the western and the non-western sides, by looking at
these examples of the politics of compassion and encouraging
our decision-making to begin to practise that politics of
compassion, there is the possibility of a very bright future.
Question:
How do we deal with the establishing of a power hierarchy,
whether that is in a relationship with one other person, or
in a teaching situation? How does that relate to the discussion
of being compassionate towards others?
Dr
Anna Alomes: You seem to be asking about the protocols
of the power relations where there is an exchange of either
power to give, or power to take away. Society does run on
structures of sorts and we see a lot of written research about
power relations and pyramids of power where some people are
at the peak and the rest of us are at the bottom. There is
a lot written on that. However, if what you are talking about
is the power of non-violence, then it is neither the power
to give nor the power to take away. Rather, it is more fully
a sense of interdependence. With the power to give and the
power to take away the emphasis seems to be on the somewhat
false distinction between self and other. Archbishop Desmond
Tutu had something very interesting to say about that. He
said, 'It is a false distinction between the self and the
other, those we consider to be the enemy.' He went on to say,
'Enemies are just friends we have not yet made.' In that exchange,
I think we probably need to look with a different filter and
see that there's that interdependence, that sense of learning.
Ven.
Tarab Tulku: We can see hierarchy in any kind of political,
religious and social situation, but that hierarchy does not
necessarily need to be negative. For example, if you have
a disciple and a master, that is one type of hierarchy. The
disciples want to develop under this master and gain spiritual
knowledge from him or her so they look up to and respect the
master. You see hierarchies everywhere, even democracy consists
of a kind of hierarchy. You can say that hierarchy is very
old-fashioned. However, if that hierarchy is based upon compassion,
it will not have any sense of anyone looking down on anybody.
Compassion, basically, is openness. In the student-teacher
relationship, there could easily be compassion going both
ways. There is still a kind of hierarchy, but there is no
disturbance in the relationship because of this love and compassion.
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