After a recruitment meeting held on June 10, 1951, on Jiuhua Mountain , a number of monks pledged to join the Volunteer Army. One of them, Wu Yunhen, expressed his happiness and willingness:
Joining the army is a glorious task and we must fulfill [it]. After all, we monks are to save people and the world without any misgiving. I hope we young Buddhists do not cling to such a small place as Jiuhua Mountain, nor should we forget the great cause of serving the nation. Only then could we Buddhists be called Good Men .47
It is difficult to hear the voices of the sangha resisting such recruitment, either because the monks and nuns dared not articulate their resistance, or because such articulation was intentionally kept away from the public. The sangha was portrayed as united in voice and action in following the direction of the government. The only negative responses could be seen in the concerned expressions of some older monks and nuns, who were quoted as saying that the temples would be left with only old and weak monks and nuns if young ones went to the front.48 It is difficult to calculate how many young monks joined the army during this period,49 yet according to the available information, Buddhist communities in general seem to have encouraged military enlistment, and many young monks showed their readiness for it. For instance, in Jiuhua Mountain, the five monks who joined the army represented one-third of the total number of applicants from the entire village.50 In Emei Mountain, several dozens of young monks joining the army gave it the highest representation among all of the communities in that county.51
Several explanations were suggested for the enthusiasm for military enlistment among young Buddhist clergy. One was that it was an expression of patriotism. Another suggestion was that it demonstrated their appreciation of the government’s policy on Buddhism. It was also suggested that this was an actual demonstration of true bodhisattva spirit in serving the world. Yet the phenomenon may also indicate that, after various political campaigns, young monks were forced to acknowledge reality: the existence of Buddhism was at risk of disappearing in China, and their future as members of the sangha was full of uncertainty. As Holmes Welch said, “The monastery no longer offered a refuge from the dust of the world. And what sort of future lay ahead for those who stayed in it?”52 Joining the army, which could be the triple blessings for the Buddhist community, the nation, and young monks themselves, perhaps would be one of the wiser choices.
Conclusion
In the early 1950s, China underwent a dramatic transition from neo-democracy to socialism (1949–1956); great changes took place throughout the nation. A new China was founded on the ruins of colonialism and feudalism.53 Numerous patriotic and political campaigns sponsored by the Communist government were conducted nationwide to cleanse the old thoughts and to transform the Chinese people into new socialist citizens. These campaigns were aimed at stabilizing social, political, and economic developments. The Chinese people participated in such campaigns with complete or, rather, innocent trust and enthusiasm, full of hope for the better future promised by the Communist regime.
The government conducted these campaigns anticipating that all Chinese people would be united under Communist leadership. Monks and nuns were told that they could either act as patriotic citizens or be left behind (and even eliminated) in the new social and political environment. In general, they responded to such campaigns with enthusiasm; they extended their full support to the government with patriotic passion. Indeed, some were fascinated with the idea of being new citizens and family members of the Chinese nation. They eagerly limited or hid their religious differences, mental and physical, from the rest of the Chinese people. Gradually, the gap between the temples and society disappeared as monks and nuns followed the orders and instructions of the government along with other ordinary Chinese people.
At an early period of the People’s Republic of China, patriotism reigned supreme in most part of China; it reached its zenith during the Korean War. Patriotism served almost as a new religion, which endeavored to unify the nation by demanding the complete faith and surrender of ordinary citizens to the state. Through the use of the state machinery, the government exercised all of its power in conducting patriotic education and disseminating propaganda among the masses. The Chinese people were requested to love their nation by working hard to strengthen the people’s democracy, to defend the nation from invasion, and to make the utmost contributions to the reconstruction of the motherland. Such ideological education and propaganda penetrated deeply into the sangha. As a result, Buddhists became obliged to discontinue Buddhist traditions and practices that had endured for thousands of years. Voluntarily or by force, they were prepared for participation in the activities of resisting America and assisting Korea. By these activities, they were identified as true patriotic citizens of the Chinese nation, with high and noble aspirations.
The successful self-transformation and active participation of Chinese Buddhists in the war were made possible largely because of the commitment of some leading Buddhists, both clergy and lay, such as Juzan and Zhao Puchu. It is still unclear whether they were fully convinced that Buddhism could be revived only through self-reform under the Communist leadership, or whether they simply realized the futility of resisting the socialist transformation of the sangha. It is clear, however, that they grasped the opportunity presented by the Korean War to push Buddhists into society to work for the nation and to make their contributions to China’s efforts in the war.
Buddhists in China at the time seem to have sincerely believed that only the Communist Party could save China and protect Buddhism. Therefore, only by following the path provided, or dictated, by the Communist government could Buddhism survive and revive. On behalf of their Buddhist communities, Buddhist leaders urged ordinary monks and nuns to make self-sacrifices, self-concessions, and self-submissions to the interests of the nation, party, and government. What was said and done during this period may reveal the reality that some Buddhists were even more eager and active to reform Buddhism than were their Communist comrades. Their activities and advocacy can only be understood within the contemporary social and political contexts and might be considered a skillful means of attempting to save Buddhism. The impact of their activities should also be considered in discussing their contributions to both modern Buddhism and the subsequent development of Buddhism in China. On one hand, they helped the government to impose strict policies on Buddhism; on the other hand, they encouraged Buddhists to accept such policies without resistance. As a result, Buddhism almost disappeared from mainland China in the following two decades. Buddhists and especially their leaders probably did not anticipate that they might contribute to its disappearance.
7
Onward Buddhist Soldiers: Preaching to the Sri Lankan Army
Daniel W. Kent
It is almost nine o’clock in Mihintale, the dusty Sri Lankan city said to have hosted the arrival of Buddhism to the island.1 The sky is dark, but light and sound pour from the small temple of Bogahayya. Silver dollar–sized red clay oil lamps cast flickering light on uniformed soldiers sitting cross-legged on the ground, listening to the local monk, nandavasa, preaching a sermon on the topic of sla, discipline and morality. Most soldiers in the audience bear physical and mental scars from their times on the battlefield, such as a fidgeting young captain wearing special shoes to reduce the limp caused by a 50-caliber bullet that tore through his upper thigh five years ago. The stocky color sergeant can barely grasp the tray of flowers he offers to the Bodhi tree, having lost movement in three of the fingers on his right hand due to infection after surviving for three days in a swamp after his regiment left him for dead.
For each solider who survives to show scars, others never get the chance for a special shoe or a weak grip. The war dead, physically absent from the sermon at the temple, call to mind the Yodhjvasutta, a story in the Pli canon of a warrior who asked the Buddha whether it is true that soldiers who die on the battlefield are reborn in heaven. The Buddha remained silent in response. Undaunted, the warrior asked a
gain, but the Buddha again remained silent. After being asked a third time, the Buddha responded, telling the warrior that those who die on the battlefield will not be reborn in heaven. He explained that those who die on the battlefield are inevitably overcome with hatred and pain and are born, according to those feelings, in a hell realm (Sayutta Nikya XLII.3). Given this bleak outlook, what does Buddhist belief, doctrine, and practice have to offer to the soldiers gathered in Mihintale, listening to nandavasa’s sermon and considering the fate of their fallen comrades and perhaps their own futures?2 In an economy ravaged by a quarter century of civil war, there are few employment opportunities; most soldiers come from poor families to fight and kill for the raa, jtiya, and gama: the country, nation, and religion. Are they doomed to hell for their choice of occupation?
FIGURE 7.1 Ven. nandavasa preaches to soldiers of the Sixth Sri Lankan Light Infantry Regiment following a Bodhipj ceremony on the evening of March 9, 2007. Photo taken by Daniel Kent.
Although there are no uniformed chaplains in the Sri Lankan military, monks living at temples near the army camps serve the religious needs of the soldiers both informally and through Buddhist sermons, or baa. Individual regiments often invite famous preachers to their camps to sponsor ceremonies commemorating Regiment Day, which marks the day they were established, and memorializing the missing, dead, and injured of the particular unit. Other ceremonies may be commissioned by high-ranking officers seeking to increase morale or prepare for specific offensives, while the army as a whole sponsors two major sermons every year. The largest ceremony occurs on October 11, the anniversary of the founding of the Sri Lankan army. This sermon is performed at Pangoa army temple before an audience composed primarily of the families of dead soldiers. Endeavoring to ease the suffering of the families, the monks receive alms and transfer merit to the dead. The second major sermon occurs around the first Sunday of October at the r Mahbodhi Tree in Anurdhapura. This sermon takes place following a ceremony during which all of the flags from all of the regiments in the Sri Lankan army are blessed at the Bodhi tree and then taken back to their respective units.
The guiding question behind the vast majority of studies of Buddhism and war is, how does Buddhism justify, legitimate, or otherwise allow war? Scholars have asked this question, attempting to resolve the perceived conflict between the first precept against killing and the contemporary reality of active Buddhist participation in warfare. Scholarship guided by this question has been, for the most part, quite fruitful, challenging essentialized presentations of Buddhism as a religion of absolute pacifism with more nuanced explorations of Buddhists making the decision to engage in warfare.3 Justification, however, is not the concern of the warrior in the Yodhjvasutta, nor is it the primary concern of contemporary Sri Lankan Buddhists participating in the war.
In this chapter, I will explore an alternative line of questioning employed by Buddhists engaged in war. Rather than beginning and ending my work with the search for Buddhist justifications of war, I endeavor to discover some of the questions asked and answers provided by the Buddhist soldiers and monks dealing most directly with the conflict. Rather than examining the speeches and writings of the monks and politicians represented frequently in the national media, I have chosen informants whose voices are normally not heard. These voices come from soldiers with experience on the battlefields and from monks residing at temples near military bases. Although they may employ some of the same Sinhalese Buddhist nationalist rhetoric as do politicians, they do so not to build a national consensus on the war, but to address the individual problems facing soldiers.4
When asked of 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 respond 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.
Buddhism Does Not Condone War, but …
The wave of anti-Tamil violence that swept through the island of Sri Lanka in July 1983 shook the foundations of Sri Lankan society. Known as Black July, this event challenged scholars to explain how such a thing could possibly happen in Sri Lanka. Immediately after independence in 1948, Sri Lanka had been viewed as an example for other former colonies to follow. The violence of 1983 caused a reevaluation across all fields of study as scholars began to ask why, how, and when Sri Lanka was transformed from a model society to a fractured one.
While scholars from all disciplines rushed into the discursive space ripped open by Black July, anthropologists and scholars of religion turned their collective gaze on religion in general and Buddhism in particular. Less than a year after the riots, Gananath Obeyesekere wrote:
What then is the background to this violence, unprecedented in the history of a country designated by the people themselves as dhamma dpa, “the land of the Buddha’s dharma,” a doctrine of non-violence and compassion? I am a Sinhalese and a Buddhist and this is the troubling question that I ask myself.5
Stanley Tambiah echoed Obeyesekere, asking: “If Buddhism preaches non-violence, why is there so much political violence in Sri Lanka today[?]”6 Finally, Ananda Wikremeratne expressed his own remorse, writing, “Isn’t it a shame … that all this violence should take place in Sri Lanka? After all, Sri Lanka is a Buddhist country. How can Buddhists resort to violence[?]”7
As Buddhist soldiers rushed off to fight and die on behalf of their raa, jtiya, and gama (country, race, and religion), scholars were forced to reexamine their assumptions about Buddhism as a religion of nonviolence. The first step toward reconciliation was the separation of Buddhism-the-religion from Buddhists who adopt violent means. In 1993, Gananath Obeyesekere questioned the Buddhist identity of those who advocated violence: “To say that the killing of one’s enemy is justified is a perversion of Buddhism, and those who condone such acts have rejected their Buddhist heritage.”8 By condemning those who made the decision to go to war, Obeyesekere shifted the focus away from Buddhism to the Buddhists themselves—preserving Buddhism as a tradition of absolute nonviolence, while questioning the legitimacy of contemporary Sri Lankan Buddhists.
Whether they are legitimate in the eyes of scholars or not, however, Buddhist monks, like nandavasa, are often invited to deliver sermons and perform rituals for the army. As he preached before a mixed audience of uniformed soldiers and white-clad civilians one evening in March 2007, nandavasa did not justify the war. Indeed, like most monks, he stated expressly that Buddhism can never condone war or killing. In a conversation two years before this sermon, nandavasa stressed to me that monks should never tell soldiers to kill:
FIGURE 7.2 High-ranking monks bless soldiers within the rahbodhi shrine in Anuradhapura on October 1, 2005. In the front row are Sri Lanka’s highest-ranking officers, including former army commander Shanta Kottegoda, current army commander Sarath Fonseka, and the late Lt. Gen. Parami Kulatunga, who was killed in a suicide bombing six months later. Photo taken by Daniel Kent.
We wouldn’t say, “May you have strength. May you defeat the enemy!” We can’t pray for that! If monks were to pray for that there, they would face problems with the rules of monastic discipline. A monk can never tell someone to kill. In the same way, they can’t say that killing is good. … That is why monks don’t have any blessing for killing. We say: “May soldiers be protected! May they be free from sickness and suffering! May they live lives without accidental harm!”9
Two weeks before preaching to an audience of over 10,000 white-clad lay-people gathered at Pangoa army temple on a warm evening in October 2006, Ven. Itäpanna Dhammalankra explained during an interview: “Our dharma does not c
ondone the harming of any type of being. We show maitr for all people and animals. When a war starts, we must only try to stop it.”10 Two years later, on the other side of the island, Ven. Neluwakande Gñnnanda echoed Dhammalankra’s words at a ceremony sponsored by the soldiers at a small infantry camp in Mihintale:
What we need is to live in peace. Everyone values life. Buddhadharma does not condone the murder of humans or even animals. Problems in society arise because of the bad actions of people. The result is that many people suffer. That is why we think that this country must be full of peace. The final result must be peace. That is our goal.11
Like Dhammalankra, Gñnnanda is careful to separate Buddhist teachings from the act of killing.
How is it possible for monks to support soldiers by preaching to them without justifying or condoning the war in Buddhist terms? Is there a way to understand Buddhists who decide to go to war without condemning them for violating their Buddhist heritage? Tessa Bartholomeusz attempted just such a solution in her book In Defense of Dharma: Just-War Ideology in Buddhist Sri Lanka. Rather than dismissing Buddhist warfare as an aberration or a rejection of Buddhist heritage, Bartholomeusz argued that Sinhalese Buddhists have employed a prima facie just-war theory. Prima facie obligations refer to ethical obligations, which can be overridden when they come in conflict with each other. For example, the obligation to speak the truth may be overridden if doing so would result in the death or injury of another. Additionally, the obligation to refrain from killing or causing injury could be overridden by the obligation to preserve the life of an innocent. In the case of Sri Lankan Buddhists, Bartholomeusz argued that the obligation to refrain from killing can be overruled by the obligation to protect the Buddhist religion.12
Buddhist Warfare Page 18