Buddhist Warfare

by Michael Jerryson

  Bartholomeusz’s work provides a useful framework for understanding how a Sinhalese Buddhist can go to war without violating his or her Buddhist heritage. Bartholomeusz solves this problem by viewing the Buddhist precept against killing as a prima facie ethical obligation that is overridden by the obligation to protect the dharma. The language of “obligation” and “rules,” however, is not entirely compatible with Buddhist doctrinal understandings of action. In his article “Can Killing a Living Being Ever Be an Act of Compassion? The Analysis of the Act of Killing in the Abhidhamma and Pali Commentaries,” Gethin warns of the dangers of applying etic, or external, concepts to Buddhist beliefs and doctrines:

  Abhidhamma—and hence I think mainstream Buddhist ethics—is not ultimately concerned to lay down ethical rules, or even ethical principles. It seeks instead to articulate a spiritual psychology focusing on the root causes that motivate us to act: greed, hatred, and delusion, or nonattachment, friendliness, and wisdom. Thus that intentionally killing a living being is wrong is not in fact presented in Buddhist thought as an ethical principle at all; it is a claim about how the mind works, about the nature of certain mental states and the kinds of action they give rise to.13

  While Gethin does not reject the possibility of comparison, he argues that scholars in the field of Buddhist ethics often obscure the nature of Buddhist karma theory. Theories of just war are composed of rules and principles unfamiliar to the traditional Sri Lankan frame of reference; they are incompatible with the reasoning behind the decisions made by Sri Lankan Buddhists participating in war.

  Although Gethin can be fairly accused of privileging Buddhist doctrine over other sources, such as literature and ritual practice, he makes an important point. Buddhist doctrine does not contain conditions for laying down ethical rules and principles through which war could be justified. On the contrary, he argues, Buddhist doctrine is concerned with psychology, focusing on the root causes and effects of individual actions.14 The decision to take up arms leading to a just or unjust conflict has little relevance to contemporary Sri Lankan Buddhists. After war begins, however, Buddhist doctrine, literature, and practice all have a great deal to say about actions and particularly the effects of those actions on the battlefield.

  If the question of justification is no longer a useful lens for viewing Buddhist warfare, what question could we pose to replace it? In order to discover an alternative, I conducted several group interviews with Buddhist soldiers at Pangoa army base, asking my subjects to explain the kinds of questions that they have asked or would like to ask monks about war. Many answered quickly that they have asked whether negative karma occurs when they fire their weapons at the enemy.15 Several monks confirmed that this was a question that they commonly received from soldiers. Having heard this question repeated again and again by my informants, I adopted it as my main question for the monks and soldiers whom I interviewed. Rather than asking monks and soldiers how Buddhism justifies war, I asked about the karmic consequences of individual actions on the battlefield.

  The Karma of War

  “Hamduruwo,16 does negative karma occur when a soldier fires his weapon at the enemy on the battlefield?” I asked nandavasa in an interview several weeks before his sermon. nandavasa answered definitively: “It couldn’t not occur. A negative karma occurs.” Ven. Sudarsana, a forest monk and former corporal in the infantry before his ordination seven years before our interview, took a firm position, arguing: “Cetan ‘ham bhikkhave kamma vadmi. Intention becomes karma.”17 He continued, asking: “Can a soldier shoot another person while practicing loving-kindness [maitr] meditation? If he were doing that, how could he kill?”

  Monks are not the only ones to argue that killing on the battlefield produces negative karma. A disabled thirty-year-old infantry corporal explained the consequences of actions in war:

  According to the teaching of Buddhism, negative karma occurs. It is impossible to prevent it. According to my knowledge of the dhamma, the unwholesome act of killing occurs there. I think that many of our soldiers know this. However, this is our duty. There are many duties like this in the world. Many people give different reasons to justify unwholesome actions, but they are still unwholesome.18

  The term chosen by Sudarsana to evaluate the actions of soldiers, cetan, or intention, is familiar to all Buddhists. In the most commonly cited formulation of the act of intentional killing, which is found in the Pli commentarial literature, five conditions must be fulfilled for negative karma to be created: (1) there must be a living creature; (2) one must know that the creature is living; (3) one must intend to kill the creature; (4) one must perform the necessary action; (5) the creature must die.19 For nandavasa and Sudarsana, the act of killing on the battlefield clearly fulfills all of these conditions.

  Not all monks or soldiers, however, agree that soldiers produce negative karma when they fire at the enemy. Upon hearing my question, Ven. Ampiiy slavasatissa became flustered and answered: “Cetan is the thing at the root. Soldiers don’t take guns with the intention of killing. More than killing, they take them with the principal intention [cetan] of saving the country, the race, and the religion [raa, jtiya, gama].”20 Before our interview, slavasatissa had lifted his robe to show me the scars left from the shrapnel of a mortar round and from a gunshot wound. The monk had received these injuries during an attack on his temple, which is located next to an army base, by the LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam) in 2002.

  One light infantry soldier explained:

  Soldiers don’t shoot the enemy out of personal anger. If they shoot they do so for the common good. This war is on behalf of the country, people, religion, region, and motherland. It would be negative karma to shoot one’s neighbor over a land conflict, but the intention here is a good one.21

  This soldier separates the act of killing on the battlefield from intention, transforming the act into a neutral one. This soldier is not alone in his reasoning. Major Chakkrawarthi, the commander of the army temple at Pangoa, also emphasized the lack of personal anger behind the actions of soldiers:

  In Buddhism, one needs to fulfill five conditions for a sin to occur. Those five are not fulfilled by us. Our goal is just to face the enemy with the goal of protecting our own lives and the lives of others. Our soldiers don’t kill with anger.22

  Chakkrawarthi reasons that soldiers fire their weapons at the enemy not with anger, but out of their duty to protect others.

  The key to this puzzle is how each individual understands cetan. Some, like Sudarsana, argue that the intention to kill can never be wholesome. Others, like Ampiiy slavasatissa, argue that the soldier’s intention to kill is not personal, not rooted in delusion, hatred, or desire. Although these monks and soldiers disagreed in their answers to my question, they harnessed similar terminology and concepts to provide their answers. All of my informants based their arguments not upon justice, but upon whether the actions of a soldier do or do not produce negative karma, and upon the possibility of killing with a positive intention. Everyone with whom I spoke, regardless of their answer to my question, identified intention, or cetan, as the factor which determines the positive or negative effects of an action; none used language applicable to the formation of a just-war theory, prima facie or otherwise. None of my subjects made reference to the idea of ethical obligations coming in conflict with one another.

  Soldiers and monks may be united in their use of cetan and karma to evaluate the actions of a soldier on the battlefield, but disagreements are also very common among monks and soldiers regarding cetan and the karmic consequences of acts of killing.23 Of the twenty monks interviewed over the course of my research, eleven believed that firing a weapon on the battlefield produced negative karma; nine believed that it did not.24 Soldiers were also split in their assessments. Of fifty-eight soldiers interviewed at the Sixth Sri Lankan Light Infantry (SLLI) camp in Mihintale, thirty-three believed that negative karma did not occur when they fired their weapons at the enemy, while twenty-five believed that it d
id occur. While each of these soldiers agreed that intention determines the karmic effects of particular actions, they disagreed on whether it was possible to fire their weapons with a positive intention. Even though all of my informants employed the same terminology in their evaluation of actions on the battlefield, they still differed in their understandings of those actions and employed different lines of reasoning to support their claims.

  Once we begin viewing war through individual intentions and actions, rather than in terms of justification or legitimation, the sermons that monks deliver to soldiers take on new meaning. If soldiers and monks view individual karma as the primary problem on a battlefield, it follows that preachers will concentrate their sermons on influencing karma, rather than justifying war in objective terms.

  Performing Intention

  As nandavasa preached before his audience of uniformed soldiers, he did not justify the war. One night, nandavasa did not even preach about war. Instead, he preached a commentary on the famous Pli verse Yo dhamma passati, so ma passat (he who sees the dhamma sees me). When I asked nandavasa about his goals when preaching to soldiers, he explained that his primary goals were to comfort their hearts, instruct them in morality, and wish for their protection.

  The themes of nirvana, meditation, and the fruits of the homeless life, however, were conspicuously absent from nandavasa’s sermon. Indeed, almost all of the preachers with whom I spoke avoided these topics, explaining that such topics would not help to effect positive change in the soldiers’ hearts. Instead, the monks explained, they selected topics that were “timely” and “appropriate” to their audience of soldiers.25 Ven. Vimaladhajja, a monk who lives two kilometers from Pangoa army base, described the kinds of topics that are appropriate to soldiers:

  When I go to preach to a group of soldiers, I preach in the necessary way to them. I preach about the greatness of King Duugämuu. Each occasion calls for a timely sermon. Each occasion has an appropriate sermon.26

  Vimaladhajja explained that stories of Duugämuu (Pli: Dut gma), the second-century BCE Sinhalese king who conquered the ancient capital of Anurdhapura from the South Indian king Era, are the most appropriate for soldiers. Duugämuu, whose name literally means “Gämuu the Fierce,” is said to have led his armies carrying a spear festooned with a relic of the Buddha.27 According to the Mahvasa account, after his victory over King Era, Duugämuu, like the Mauryan king Aoka before him, was plagued with guilt because he had killed so many people. Eight arahants28 soothed him, explaining that he was only guilty of killing one and a half human beings: one who had taken the five precepts and another who had taken refuge in the triple gem.29 The Mahvasa records that, after his death, Duugämuu was reborn in heaven to await rebirth as the chief disciple of the future Buddha Metteya (Maitreya). Duugämuu is said to have explained his motives, declaring, “Not for the joy of sovereignty is this toil of mine, my striving [has been] ever to establish the doctrine of the Sambuddha.”30

  FIGURE 7.3 Monks tie protective threads around the wrist of army commander Sarath Fonseka at the rmahbodhi shrine on October 1, 2005. Photo taken by Daniel Kent.

  Vimaladhajja, whose enthusiastic support of the army has earned him the nickname “Brigadier Monk,” explained that stories of Duugämuu can buttress a soldier’s courage. There is a fine line, however, between encouraging soldiers and encouraging them to kill. nandavasa explained:

  First let’s imagine the reason why someone joins the army today. We can think of two reasons. The first is for a job. The guys in our army today joined because they didn’t have a job. As for a national army … soldiers act according to the orders that they receive from above. If he goes to war, he must first protect himself. When we preach to soldiers, we have to decide whether we should preach in a way that would decrease their belief, self-confidence, and pride in themselves or in a way that would increase their self-confidence.31

  On the one hand, nandavasa does not want to encourage killing; on the other hand, he does not want to put soldiers into danger by reducing their confidence in themselves.

  Ven. Mangala shares nandavasa’s concerns for the immediate well-being of the soldiers. He asserted: “If I were to go to an army camp and tell them to love their enemies, saying, ‘Love your enemies. May your enemies be healthy.’ What would the enemies do? They would come and destroy the camp!” He continued later: “If a soldier thought, ‘I can’t shoot this person; it is a sin,’ he would not be suitable for that job. If he were to do that, another soldier would come along and shoot him.”32 A soldier who fears the sinful consequences of his actions, Mangala argued, may be more physically vulnerable than a soldier who is confident in the correctness of his actions. If a soldier were to join the army and suddenly decide to not perform his duties, he would be endangering himself, his unit, and ultimately his country; thus, preaching to soldiers of sin would upset their minds and potentially endanger them.

  One might argue that monks should not speak to soldiers at all, but should leave soldiers to their wrong livelihood. This, however, is not an option for nandavasa or Mangala. They have both known many of the soldiers that visit their temples from the time the soldiers were children attending Buddhist school. Like many other monks, therefore, they cannot remain silent when soldiers come to them, but neither can they discuss the very real possibility that the karma produced by the soldiers in battle will lead to dire consequences in the future. Despite their disapproval of acts of intentional killing from a Buddhist perspective, both nandavasa and Mangala remain silent on the consequences of killing on the battlefield,

  How does a monk encourage a group of soldiers without encouraging them to kill? Different preachers succeed in this task to varying degrees. While there are monks who in their sermons urge soldiers to go forth and kill, such monks are in the minority.33 The majority of monks attempt to assist soldiers without specifically encouraging killing. As with nandavasa’s sermon on one the days I was there, sometimes monks will not even mention war during their sermons to soldiers; instead, they focus upon the importance of sla (morality) or on the importance of the dhamma. Ven. Vipuladhamma, the head of the meditation center outside of Mihintale, explained the dilemma that arises when he preaches to soldiers whose job it is to kill:

  Now the soldiers’ goal is to create an environment where peaceful and harmonious people can live freely. So it is not good to have the intention [cetan] of destroying people. It is not good to have the intention [cetan] to take revenge. That is because everyone living here in Mihintale has the right to live. There are people who are trying to grab away that right. Those people must be stopped in order to give [the rest of the] people the opportunity to live together harmoniously. If they go to battle with that goal, their goal is very good. We give them encouragement for that.34

  As discussed above, all of the monks and soldiers with whom I spoke drew a clear connection between intention and the karma created by an action. Many argued that a soldier fighting with selfless intentions to save the innocent or protect the country would not create negative karma when he fired his weapon at the enemy. Taking this for granted, monks like Vipuladhamma attempt to instill particular intentions in the minds of soldiers going off to battle.

  This strategy is apparent in Ven. Vimaladhajja’s sermons praising Duugämuu. In this short composition of his own, he sang:

  Niridun Duugämuu Maha yuda keruvya

  Brganna gama dana näsuvya

  Pirisidu sirilakama eksatkeruvya

  Avasana sandahmin suvayak läbuvya

  Duugämuu, the lord of men, fought a great war.

  He killed people in order to save the religion.

  He united the pure Sri Lanka

  and received comfort from that in the end [of sasra].35

  This poem could be taken as a blanket justification of war. When viewed in terms of individual karma, however, it does not justify war in objective terms at all. On the contrary, it describes the ideal intention that an individual soldier should take into battle.36 Because
Duugämuu went to battle with the intention of saving religion, he was reborn in heaven. Vimaladhajja suggests that the soldiers in his audience should adopt similar intentions as they go to the battlefield.

  Military personnel agree that a good sermon can help soldiers to establish a wholesome cetan. Intention, however, should not be understood merely as a cognitive decision underlying particular actions. On the contrary, the monks and soldiers with whom I spoke used the term cetan interchangeably with the term hita, or heart.37 The state of one’s hita is directly related to the amount of pi, or merit (Pli: puñña), produced by particular activities.

  Writing about intention and merit production during acts of ritual alms giving, Jeffrey Samuels explained:

  For the laymen and laywomen with whom I spoke about meritorious giving, conversations rarely, if ever, touched upon the need for giving to be accompanied by a donor’s conscious reasoning. Instead, making merit was largely discussed in conversations focusing on the emotional state of the donor.38

  As one of Samuels’ informants put it: “Merit means happiness [pi kiyann satua]. Happiness is the heart/mind [hit santaya]. Demerit means unhappiness [pava kiyann asatua]. Merit is based on these two.”39

  Major Chakkrawarthi, the commander of the army temple at Pangoa, stressed the importance of a healthy heart: