In a heated passage in The Buddha and His Dhamma, B. R. Ambedkar (1891-1956), the Indian statesman and preceptor of Buddhist conversion among the Untouchables (Dalits), has the Buddha proclaim, "A bhikkhu must fight to spread virtue (dhamma)." Presented as a dialogue between the Buddha and his disciples, the text pictures an embattled leader in a quarrelsome world. "We wage war, O disciples, therefore we are called warriors . . . for lofty virtues, for high endeavor, for sublime wisdom . . . . Where virtue is in danger, do not avoid fighting, do not be mealy-mouthed." i
Followers of Ambedkar's Buddhism since the 1950s have never mistaken this passage as a call to violence in their struggle against the caste system, but rather as an invitation to "educate, agitate, and organize"-a popular slogan of the movement. Since its inception, the war for Dalit equality has been a war of words and gestures-protest poetry and posters, book burning and book writing, marches and demonstrations-the rhetoric and ritual of political discourse. And, in spite of their differences with Gandhi over the future of caste, the new Buddhists in India have seldom strayed from the practice of nonviolence.
Yet Ambedkar's speech has always seemed harsh, polarizing, and disturbing to traditional Buddhists, who believe that the Dhamma is a tradition of "right speech" (sammaa vaacaa). As the third step on the Noble Eightfold Path and the fourth injunction in the Five Precepts (pa~ncha shiila)-both cardinal formulas in the practice of lay Buddhism-right speech is generally taken to mean the avoidance of lying, slander, and divisiveness; of "harsh, rude, impolite, malicious and abusive language"; and of "idle, useless and foolish babble and gossip." ii
Few Buddhist leaders today, whether politically engaged or not, associate right speech with direct challenges to persons or groups that cause social suffering in the world. For the Dalai Lama of Tibet, overcoming anger is the prerequisite to addressing the atrocities of the Chinese occupation, for the Chinese people have themselves been deprived of human rights.iii For Thich Nhat Hanh, the exiled Vietnamese Zen master, the "true names" of suffering encompass both oppressor and oppressed, predator and prey, while the practice of right speech entails the avoidance of "any doctrine, theory, or ideology, even Buddhist ones" that may cause further enmity. iv
In this paper, we examine a range of speech patterns in the practice and writings of engaged Buddhists, from Ambedkar's marching orders to the more calming calls-to-order of the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh. I follow the Thai reformer, Sulak Sivaraksa, as well as ancient commentators, in interpreting "speech" in the broadest sense-as oral and written expression and the symbol systems of mass communication, visual as well as verbal.v We shall examine some early Buddhist texts on right speech, beginning with the contrast between the Kakacuupama Sutta's advocacy for speech that is "timely, true, gentle, beneficial, and friendly" (Majjhima Nikaaya 21.1l) and that of the Abhayaraajakumaara Sutta, for speech that is timely, true, and beneficial-but possibly "unwelcome and disagreeable" (M 58.8). In the final section, I propose a formulation of "prophetic speech" for engaged Buddhism that avoids the psychic violence of interpersonal vilification and inter-group polarization, as well as the harmonizing, potentially narcotizing, non-dualistic speech that always finds the cause of suffering in the sufferer's habits of mind.
I
Sallie King, in a study of themes and dynamics in the Buddhist Liberation Movements of Asia, has identified what she calls the modalities of "love" and "prophetic voice" in the struggle for social change.vi The voice of love recognizes no enemies-except the greed, hatred, and delusion within each person-and is exemplified in the speeches and writings of Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh. The prophetic voice, King writes, "maintains a separation between self and other and does not hesitate to denounce what it sees as error and those whose actions are in error." Among the prophetic Buddhists, in her terms, are Ambedkar, Sulak, and the Soka Gakkai lay movement from Japan . Let us consider examples from the Ambedkar movement.
Long before Dr. Ambedkar revealed his intention to convert to Buddhism, he was famous in India for his stinging editorials and speeches on British colonialism and the Hindu caste system. He excoriated the British and Brahmins alike in his doctoral dissertation on Indian provincial finance, submitted to the Columbia Graduate School in 1923. In 1930, addressing the first Indian Round Table Conference in London-meetings that laid the groundwork for Indian independence-he likened the British Raj to "the Chinese tailor who, when given an old coat as a pattern, reproduced with pride an exact replica, rents, patches and all." Speaking for the 43,000,000 Untouchables of India ("as large as the populations of England or France "), he concluded, "our wrongs have remained as open sores and they have not been righted, although 150 years of British rule have rolled away."vii
Perhaps more significant than Ambedkar's rhetoric is the interpretation it received at the hand of a Dalit Buddhist author in 1968, a dozen years after Ambedkar's conversion and untimely death. D. C. Ahir, the lay historian of the new Buddhist movement, presents Ambedkar's political tirades as models of Buddhist right speech, and Ambedkar as an epitome of the "modern bodhisattva" who exemplifies the saintly virtues of traditional Buddhism. "Dr. Ambedkar always spoke without any reservations and with clarity of mind," Ahir claims. "He always adhered to the truth, no matter whether it pleased or annoyed others. His theses were always full of free and frank opinion and sometimes ended with strong condemnation of the existing procedures and practices."viii
The final example of what Ahir calls "the right speech at the right moment" was Ambedkar's impromptu remarks at the fourth conference of the World Fellowship of Buddhists, held in Kathmandu in November 1956. While the bulk of the speech compared Marxism and Buddhism as programs for social change-Ambedkar came out for Buddhism as the nonviolent option-the ailing leader, speaking only two weeks before his death, addressed the question of leadership in the Buddhist world:
If I may say so in conclusion, if any peril arises to the Dhamma in a Buddhist country, the blame shall have to be cast upon the Bhikkhus, because I personally think that they are not wholly discharging the duty which devolves on them. Where is the preaching?
The Bhikkhu is living in his cloister taking his meal no doubt and sitting quietly; probably he is reading, and most probably I find [him] sleeping, and in the evening having a little music. That is not the way of propagating religion.
My friends, I want to tell you, I do not want to criticize anybody, but for religion to be a moral force for the regeneration of society, you must constantly din it into the ears of the people.ix
In the years since Kathmandu , Ambedkar's followers have attempted to carry on his version of right speech. The 1970s saw the rise of the Dalit Panther Party, modeled on the Black Panthers in the U.S. , and a kind of Buddhist "beat literature" or Dalit Sahitya (the word dalit, meaning "broken," perhaps not so far from "beat"). While the Dalit Panthers and poets were not always focused on religion, there are notable exceptions. In the spirit of the twenty-two vows Ambedkar wrote to accompany the traditional Three Refuges and Five Precepts at the massive Buddhist conversion ceremony in October 1956-vows that repudiate the beliefs and practices of Hinduism and pledge allegiance to the new faith-Dalit poets like Daya Pawar and Namdeo Dhasal imagine the Buddha walking through the Untouchable's slums, and they identify with the notorious mass killer, Angulimala, whose madness was arrested in his encounter with the Buddha. In the poem, "One Day I Cursed that Mother-fucker God," Keshav Meshram treats the hypocrisy of high-caste academics who "sat in their big rooms fragrant with incense / their bellies full of food / and debated."x
Among the protest posters I have collected in India are three that cry out from the wall. In one, the slogan "Educate, Agitate, Organize" is illustrated by three children-a girl in academic cap-and-gown and two boys in dhotis, one with fist raised and the other holding a torch aloft-standing before a giant image of Ambedkar. In the second, Ambedkar holds the torch in one hand and a copy of the Dhammapada in the other, as masses of pilgrims file through the gateways at the Sanchi Stupa-and, by implication, into Buddhism. In the third poster, probably used for Panther recruiting, Ambedkar stands approvingly behind a child holding a military rifle and bayonet, a bandolier slung across his chest, with a necklace reading Jai Bhim, "Victory to Ambedkar." In fact, the Hindi slogan at the top of the poster, "He who tolerates oppression is worse than the oppressor," as well as the poster's violent image, would have been repugnant to Ambedkar, who drafted the Indian Constitution and supported nonviolent, democratic social change throughout his life.xi
II
A day after the terrorist attacks of September 11, many people received an e-mail copy of a letter the Dalai Lama sent to President George W. Bush. The Tibetan leader expressed his shock and sadness at the devastation and suffering caused in the attacks, and conveyed the prayers of the Tibetan people for those who were killed, injured, and traumatized. Then, speaking as one leader to another, His Holiness wrote,
It may seem presumptuous on my part, but I personally believe we need to think seriously whether a violent action is the right thing to do and in the greater interest of the nation and people in the long run. I believe violence will only increase the cycle of violence. But how do we deal with hatred and anger, which are often the root causes of such senseless violence? This is a very difficult question, especially when it concerns a nation and we have certain fixed conceptions of how to deal with such attacks. I am sure that you will make the right decision.xii
As an example of right speech in a time of crisis, the Dalai Lama's letter is instructive. The author sets aside his stature as a spiritual and temporal leader and Nobel laureate to establish a human connection, not only with the addressee, but with all who suffer. The tone is one of solidarity, compassion, solicitude, and confidence in a healing process to come. Even when the author presumes to give advice, his admonition to avoid violence is offered in the mildest way. For the Tibetan leader, there are no enemies other than hatred, anger, and violence itself. This is Sallie King's modality of love, the opposite of the prophetic stance exemplified by Ambedkar.
For half a century, the Dalai Lama's refusal to vilify the people who have laid waste to Tibet has stood as the embodiment of Buddhist virtues, particularly impartiality (Pali upekkha) and restraint (Sanskrit kshanti). His habit of rising at four a.m. to practice loving-kindness meditation toward the Chinese and of practicing mindful awareness throughout the day in order to overcome moments of anger are well known.
In his evening address to the Nobel Committee in 1989, the Dalai Lama alluded in passing to right speech in his exposition of the Buddhist philosophy of nonviolence.
There are many different levels of violence and nonviolence. On the basis of external action, it is difficult to distinguish whether an action is violent or non-violent. Basically, it depends on the motivation behind the action. If the motivation is negative, even though the external appearance may be very smooth and gentle, in a deeper sense the action is very violent. On the contrary, harsh actions and words done with a sincere, positive motivation are essentially non-violent.xiii
Yet the Dalai Lama's love ethic does not include harsh actions or words. Even in detailing the devastation that had befallen his country, His Holiness found something praiseworthy to say about the Chinese. Commenting on their crackdown on the democracy movement in Beijing earlier in 1989, the new Peace laureate concluded, "The brave students and their supporters showed the Chinese leadership and the world the human face of that great nation."xiv
Two weeks after the terrorist attacks, on September 25, Thich Nhat Hanh ran a full-page ad in the New York Times. Announcing an evening of meditation and music on the theme "Embracing Anger" to be held at Manhattan 's Riverside Church that night, the ad featured a poem and a statement on violence by Thich Nhat Hanh. The poem is entitled "For Warmth."
I hold my face in my two hands.
No I am not crying.
I hold my face in my two hands.
To keep my loneliness warm
two hands protecting,
two hands nourishing,
two hands preventing
my soul from leaving me in anger.
Nhat Hanh explains, "I wrote this poem during the Vietnam War after I heard about the bombing of Ben Tre city. The city of 300,000 was destroyed because guerrillas fired several rounds of unsuccessful anti-aircraft gunfire and then left. My pain was profound."xv
The statement was similar to the Dalai Lama's message to President Bush. It expressed personal condolences for all who suffered in the attacks; it offered the teaching that violence is a form of injustice, which is compounded a thousand-fold by violent retaliation; and it conveyed heartfelt wishes and prayers for awareness, compassion, and healing. Nhat Hanh announced that he and others had begun a ten-day fast in support of the all who suffered in the attacks, and, like the Dalai Lama's expression of confidence in the President's judgment, he ended with "the conviction that America possesses enough wisdom and courage to perform an act of forgiveness and compassion."
Thich Nhat Hanh's version of non-dualizing speech offers another point of contrast to Ambedkar's denunciation of persons and policies that cause human suffering. Like the Dalai Lama, Thich Nhat Hanh has consistently practiced non-opposition, non-separation, and operational interdependence in his political statements and actions. During the War in Vietnam , he refused to denounce the Diem regime, though he approved the movement that brought it down. According to Sallie King, his support was possible because the anti-Diem forces, including leaders of the Unified Buddhist Church , were "a spontaneous movement ‘without any prescribed doctrine,' with ‘pure intention,' without any thought of ‘toppling the Diem government in order to come to power,' [in which] ‘no desire, no ambition, [was] involved.'"xvi
These principles are set forth in two of Thich Nhat Hanh's best-known writings: the poem, "Please Call Me By My True Names," and the fourteen precepts of his Tiep Hien Order, or Order of Interbeing. The poem was written in 1976 when Nhat Hanh learned of the suicide of a twelve-year-old girl, one of the "boat people" crossing the Gulf of Siam . She was raped by a sea pirate and threw herself into the sea. The poet, familiar with the harsh conditions in the remote villages along the coast of Thailand where the pirate grew up, wrote of his deep identification with the girl and the pirate. "I was angry when I received the news of her death, but I learned after meditation for several hours that I could not just take sides against the pirate. I saw that if I had been born in his village and brought up under the same conditions, I would be exactly like him." xvii
Commenting on the poem years later, Nhat Hanh adds-in words that prefigure his response to the attacks of September 11-"We think we need an enemy. Governments work hard to get us to be afraid and to hate so we will rally behind them. If we do not have a real enemy, they will invent one in order to mobilize us. . . .It is not correct to believe that the world's situation is in the hands of the government and that if the President would only have the correct policies, there would be peace."xvii
Thich Nhat Hanh devotes two of the fourteen precepts of his Order of Interbeing to right speech, numbers eight and nine:
Do not utter words that can create discord and cause the community to break. Make every effort to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.
Do not say untruthful things for the sake of personal interest or to impress people. Do not utter words that cause division and hatred. Do not spread news that you do not know to be certain. Do not criticize or condemn things that you are not sure of. Always speak truthfully and constructively. Have the courage to speak out about situations of injustice, even when doing so may threaten your own safety.
In placing these teachings near the center of his guidelines for lay practitioners of engaged Buddhism, Nhat Hanh demonstrates the function of speech as the interface between mind (to which the first seven precepts are devoted) and body (which concerns the last five precepts). It is perhaps significant that the seventh precept, on the mindfulness of breathing-which he identifies as the heart of Buddhist practice-precedes the precepts on speech, which begins with the modulation of the breath.xix
III
Shakyamuni Buddha was often addressed as "teacher," or sattha, by his followers. Unlike rabbi, the generic title used to address Jesus of Nazareth and other Jewish leaders in Biblical times, Sattha was reserved for the Buddha alone in the Pali scriptures. Unlike acariya and upajjhaya (Skt. acarya, upadhyaya), common terms for teacher used to describe "those in the monastic community who carried out instruction of young monks and nuns in ‘doctrines and ordinances,'" the term sattha, according to Willis Stoesz, is descended from the Vedic root sas, which means "to chastise, restrain, administer, order, instruct, announce, and predict."xx
What interests us here, of course, are "chastise and restrain." Certainly all of these terms suggest a person of authority who directs as well as teaches. As Stoesz writes, the Buddha was "an authoritative figure who wished his disciples to discover truth (dhamma) for themselves, and who was able to arrange matters so that this indeed happened. . . .
He became the founder of a community growing from his teaching which made a point of its inner cohesiveness, involving both monastics and laity, specialists in human excellence and admirers of that excellence, in interrelated roles. In this setting the Buddha as teacher combined authority and flexibility, order and freedom, in a way that insures his enduring interest to us."xxi
It is in this context that the early tradition offers a series of teachings on the practice of right speech that take up our question, namely, Under what circumstances may a practitioner of the dhamma chastise and restrain others, or otherwise utter words of judgment or condemnation?
In the Abhayarajakumara Sutta, young prince Abhaya attempts to trick the Buddha with the question, "Would the Tathagata utter speech that would be unwelcome and disagreeable to others?" He believed that a negative answer would belie the Buddha's condemnation of his murderous cousin, Devadatta, while a positive answer would deny the conventional wisdom that right speech is gentle and agreeable.xxii For in the standard formula, the Buddha teaches that "Abstaining from false speech, abstaining from malicious speech, abstaining from harsh speech, and abstaining from idle chatter-this is called right speech."xxiii Elsewhere, the Buddha praises one who "speaks such words as are gentle, pleasing to the ear, and loveable, as go to the heart, are courteous, desired by many, and agreeable to many."xxiv On another occasion we hear that right speech is "timely, true, gentle, beneficial, and spoken with loving-kindness."xxv
The drama of the Abhaya Sutta is established at the outset, for the prince has been set up by a famous rival of the Buddha, Nagantha Nataputta, the Jain founder and leader better known as Mahavira. In sending Abhaya to trick the Buddha, Nataputta illustrates all of the no-no's of Buddhist right speech: his instructions are deceptive, malicious, harshly stated, and, in light of his standing as a respected teacher (unlike Devadatta, the black sheep of the Sakya clan), idle and pointless.xxvi
After exposing the naivete of the question-"There is no one-sided answer to that, prince"-the Buddha, in typical fashion, poses his own question. Seeing that the young prince is cradling an infant in his lap (a vivid detail that would seem to anchor the story in a real encounter), the Buddha asks what he would do if the child suddenly choked on a stick or pebble. The prince immediately replies, "I would take it out. . .even if it meant drawing blood. Why is that? Because I have compassion for the child." (The imagery is graphic because Nataputta had promised that the original dilemma would be to the Buddha like an iron spike stuck in a man's throat, which he could neither gulp down nor throw up!)
Now the genius of the Buddha is revealed as he compares a life-saving but possibly painful operation to the use of right speech which is truthful and beneficial but possibly unwelcome and disagreeable. Unlike speech which is untruthful or unbeneficial, but welcome and agreeable-such as empty flattery or cunning manipulation-the unwanted truth may be spoken if (and this is a big if ) the message is beneficial and timely. "The Tathagata knows the time to use such speech. . . .Why is that? Because the Tathagata [like a skillful doctor or loving parent] has compassion for beings."xxvii
As if the monks then ask for clarification of the circumstances in which unwelcome and disagreeable speech is permissible, the Buddha continues his exposition in the Kinti Sutta, also collected in the Middle-Length Sayings of the Sutta Pitaka.xxviii The setting is the life of the monastic community, when the monks "are training in concord, with mutual appreciation, without disputing." Yet if someone commits an offence or a transgression of the monastic code, the question is posed, What, if anything, should be said to the offender?
Here, the Buddha formulates a moral calculus with five variables: (1) I shall/shall not be troubled by admonishing the person, (2) the other person will/will not be hurt by my admonishment, (3) the other person is/is not given to anger and revenge, (4) the other person is/is not firmly attached to his view and relinquishes it easily, and (5) I can/cannot make that person emerge from the unwholesome and establish him in the wholesome. In the end, the only variable that counts is the last one-that the corrective speech is beneficial to the offender and will reestablish wholeness in his or her life:
Then it may occur to you, bhikkhus: ‘I shall be troubled and the other person will be hurt; for the other person is given to anger and revenge, and he is firmly attached to his view and he relinquishes with difficulty; yet I can make that person emerge from the unwholesome and establish him in the wholesome. It is a mere trifle that I shall be troubled and the other person hurt, but it is a much greater thing that I can make that person emerge from the unwholesome and establish him in the wholesome.' If such occurs to you, bhikkhus, it is proper to speak.
And in the event that the other person is hopelessly resistant to correction, the Buddha prudently concludes, "One should not underrate equanimity towards such a person." In other words, it is time to practice the Buddha's noble silence.
IV
Let us sum up our findings. We have contrasted the prophetic speech of Ambedkar with the loving rhetoric of the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh, and we have found in the Pali canon a warrant for speech that chastises and restrains, as long as it is timely, truthful, compassionate, and effective. We might conclude that the full range of engaged Buddhist speech, from reticent to revolutionary, is justified by the calculus of psychology and pragmatism offered in the early tradition. Yet there is a discontinuity implicit in the evidence we have considered-namely, that the modern figures are speaking and acting on a stage of global politics, while the Buddha speaks to members of his own community and those who came to him for instruction or guidance. This is no mean distinction.
It is well known that the early Vinaya regulations were carefully synchronized with the needs of the state. Draft dodgers were not admitted to the order, for example, and order members who delivered messages or ran errands for others-by implication engaging in political activity-were subject to expulsion. The Buddha offered sangha membership to all, regardless of caste and class, but never denounced the caste system or those who enforced or benefited from it. As Robinson and Johnson note,
The Buddha praised the ideal society as one in which the king obeyed the law and freely dispensed seed grants of money for his subjects. . . . [But] he never mentioned this ideal to the kings who were his followers. Instead, he taught the ideal to people at large, perhaps secure in the knowledge that as it gained wider acceptance, it would ultimately affect those who actually wielded power.xxix
Thus, the Buddha's teachings on the morality of the cakkavatti or "universal monarch" (e.g. Cakkavatti-sihanada Sutta, Digha Nikaya II.80-98) and the utopian ideal of the state as a social contract between charismatic ruler and consenting subjects (Agganna Sutta, Digha Nikaya III.58-79) were never illustrated by tales of royal abuse or prophetic speech by an indignant Buddha.
So we may conclude that the application of the Buddha's guidelines for corrective speech-not necessarily harsh, but not necessarily welcome and agreeable either-to persons or parties outside the religious community, particularly to political leaders, social institutions, economic systems, and public policies and procedures, has been the work of engaged Buddhists in the modern world, and not a pattern of Buddhist speech modeled in the early scriptures. The question of whether the intervening two thousand years of Buddhist history in Asia offer useful examples of prophetic speech-again, speech which seeks to judge and correct the ethical misconduct of persons and institutions outside the religious community-is perhaps an unsettled issue in the study of engaged Buddhist ethics. Some scholars believe that sufficient examples prior to, say, the late nineteenth century, may be found.xxx Yet no one has enumerated them, and in the absence of this evidence, I continue to hold that prophetic speech, like engaged Buddhism itself, is a new and much-needed development in the history of Buddhism.
Why much-needed? Unlike the Quakers, whose slogan "Speak truth to power" complements a crusading, nonviolent activism, most Buddhists today, including those who are socially and politically engaged, are loath to challenge leaders, governments, and institutions that have the power to inflict or relieve social suffering. The Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh were not alone in focusing on the victims, pleading for nonviolence, and hoping for the best in their statements following September 11. Internet statements by many stalwarts of engaged Buddhism-the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, Bernard Glassman, Joanna Macy, Ken Jones, and Robert Aitken Roshi-were long on psychology and short on policy recommendations, other than a common rejection of military responses. No one condemned the terrorists or their sponsors, nor did they propose any special Buddhist outreach to the people of Islam. No one issued a public call to Buddhist-Muslim dialogue on issues of spiritual practice and social ethics, before or after September 11.xxxi
That Buddhist voices are muted, if not missing, in the global debate over human rights, economic justice, and political tyranny is not a measure of the tradition's lack of spiritual and conceptual resources in times of crisis. Even a glance at its central teachings, such as nonviolence, generosity, patience, compassion, and interdependence would suggest that public leaders and organizations may be judged as "wholesome" or "unwholesome" in their exercise of power and influence. Condemning criminal activity such as terrorism, piracy, prostitution, slavery, and the black markets in drugs and arms should not be incompatible with the mindful awareness of one's complicity in evil. But it is doubtful that identifying with the sea pirate and the arms dealer, or dwelling on their past sufferings, is a skillful response to the death of innocents.
I have suggested elsewhere that there are four styles of Buddhist ethics, those of discipline, virtue, altruism, and engagement. The earliest teachings on right speech we have examined exemplify the first three. The avoidance of untruthful, malicious, harsh and frivolous speech reflect an ethic of discipline, restraint, and circumspection. The cultivation of speech that promotes harmony, concord, peace, and agreeable states of mind is consistent with a virtue ethic. The Buddha's estimate of the proper time to admonish a colleague or to remain silent was based on the likelihood of its benefit to the other-even when such speech is troubling to the speaker and unwelcome to the audience. Such is the ethic of altruism.xxxii
In conclusion, I would propose that the application of the Buddha's guidelines for speech that is unwelcome and disagreeable (or "harsh," if you will) to leaders and institutions that cause great suffering in the world be called, as Sallie King has suggested, "prophetic speech," and that that speech be identified with the practice of socially engaged Buddhism. Remembering that the guidelines stipulate a benevolent motive on the speaker's part, and the likelihood of benefit to the hearer and to those he or she has the power to affect, we may hope that the discomfort caused by such speech will be limited and temporary-"a mere trifle," as the text says-in comparison to the good that may result in the long run.
Purity of motive and perfection of outcome are probably too much to ask in such situations. But the later tradition allows for bodhisattvas to take on a certain amount of bad karma in order to liberate others. And it may be that by the use of prophetic speech, the resort to physical violence-a greater source of bad karma-may be avoided. It is in this sense that all forms of right speech may represent a welcome middle path between the unwholesome extremes of moral passivity and anger-based violence.
I should like to close with an example of engaged Buddhist speech that, I believe, meets the tests of compassion and efficacy proposed by the Buddha in ancient times. Sulak Sivaraksa, who had been jailed and exiled more than once for his outspokenness on issues of human and environmental rights, addressed the criminal court in Bangkok on April 3, 1995, during one of his trials for Lese Majeste, or admonishing the government.
Unrepentent for his exercise of prophetic speech, Sulak grounded it in his faith and practice as a Buddhist intellectual and activist.
Of course I know that to attack the dictator or the people in power is to bring harm to myself, but I regard it as my duty to conscientize the people to see the value of the commoner. I see that ordinary people should be aware of their own dignity, equality and self confidence-the basic elements of democracy. I have never submitted to any authority and have challenged corrupted authority all through my life. Society will fail if people submit to corrupt authority. . . .
As an intellectual, I have to criticize the wrong direction of development which worships greed, hatred and delusion-the root causes of suffering. I have to make known to the people the value of sila [the Buddhist precepts], samadhi [concentration] and panna [wisdom] so that they will fight nonviolently against unjust authority following the Eightfold Path of the Buddha.xxxiii
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1. This paper was first delivered at the American Academy of Religion in November 19, 2001 in the panel on "Engaged Buddhist Ethics: The Dialectic of Buddhist Tradition and Contemporary Globalism."
2. Christopher Queen is the Dean of Students for Continuing Education and lecturer on the study of religion in the Faculty of Arts and Science, Harvard University. A student of Buddhism since 1965, he has practiced vipassana meditation since 1978. He is a leader to forming the field of study on engaged Buddhism, and is the co-editor and contributor to Engaged Buddhism: Buddhist Liberation Movements in Asia (1996), American Buddhism: Methods and Findings in Recent Scholarship (1999), Engaged Buddhism in the West (2000), and Action Dharma: New Studies in Engaged Buddhism (2003).
i B. R. Ambedkar, The Buddha and His Dhamma. Third Edition (Bombay: Siddharth Publication: 1984), pp. 326-327
ii Walpola Rahula, What the Buddha Taught, Revised Edition (New York: Grove Press, 1974), p. 47.
iii Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile (New York: Harper Collins, 1990), p. 261; and Kindness, Clarity, and Insight J. Hopkins and E. Napper, eds. (Ithaca, N.Y.: Snow Lion, 1984), p. 62; cited by Jose Ignacio Cabezon, "Buddhist Principles in the Tibetan Liberation Movement," in Engaged Buddhism: Buddhist Liberation Movements in Asia, Christopher S. Queen and Sallie B. King, eds. (Albany, N.Y., State University of New York Press, 1996), pp. 304-305.
iv Thich Nhat Hanh, Being Peace (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1987), p. 89; Love in Action: Writings on Nonviolent Social Change (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1993), pp. 107-112.
v Sivaraksa speaks of all "patterns of information that condition our understanding of the world." Sulak Sivaraksa, Seeds of Peace: A Buddhist Vision for Reviewing Society (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1992), p. 77.
Peter Harvey finds support for this broad definition of "speech" in traditional Buddhist prohibition of "non-verbal deception by gesture or other indication" in Vasubandhu's Abhidharma-kosa-basyam IV.75; Buddhaghosa's Atthasalini 99; and the canonical Khuddaka-patha, Anguttara Nikaya 26. See Harvey, Introduction to Buddhist Ethics ( Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 75.
vi Sallie B. King, "Conclusion," in Queen and King, op. cit., pp. 430-434.
vii Quoted by D. C. Ahir, Buddhism and Ambedkar (New Delhi: Dalit Sahitya Prakashan, 1968, 1990), pp. 53-56.
viii Ibid., p. 53.
ix Ibid., p. 60.
x Cited by Eleanor Zelliot, " India's Ex-Untouchables: New Past, New Future and the New Poetry," in Zelliot, From Untouchable to Dalit: Essays on the Ambedkar Movement (New Delhi: Manohar, 1992), pp. 293-316.
xi The latter two posters are produced by "Shant Studio"; all three are distributed by Samyak Sahitya Sadan, Ambedkar Bhawan, New Delhi 55.
xii The Dalai Lama, e-mail message, Dharamsala, India, September 12, 2001.
xiii The Dalai Lama, "The Nobel Evening Address," in The Nobel Prize and the Dalai Lama, Sidney Piburn, ed. (Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion,, 1990), p. 52, emphasis added.
xiv The Dalai Lama, "Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech," Piburn, op. cit., p. 25.
xv Thich Nhat Hanh advertisement, "An Evening of Peace," New York Times, September 25, 2001, p. A5.
xvi King, op. cit., pp. 432-433.
xvii Thich Nhat Hanh, Love in Action: Writings on Nonviolent Social Change (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1993), p. 107.
xviii Ibid. p. 109.
xix It is useful to compare Nhat Hanh's order, moving from mind through breath to body, with the Ashtanga Yoga system of Patanjali, in which the behavioral precepts lead up to posture and breathing, then to mantra (speech), and finally to pure meditation. See Daniel Goleman, The Varieties of Meditative Experience (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1977), pp. 74-80.
xx Willis Stoesz, "The Buddha as Teacher," Journal of the AmericanAcademy of Religion, Vol. 46, No. 2 (1978): 140-141.
xxi Ibid.
xxii Abhayarajakumara Sutta, "To Prince Abhaya," Majjima Nikaya 58; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), pp. 498-501.
xxiii E.g. Saccavibhanga Sutta, "The Exposition of the Truths," Majjhima Nikaya 141; ; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), pp. 1100.
xxiiiv Sevitabbaasevitabba Sutta, "To Be Cultivated and Not To Be Cultivated," Majjhima Nikaya 114; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), p. 916.
xxv Kakacupama Sutta, "The Simile of the Saw," Majjhima Nikaya 21; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), pp. 220-221.
xxvi Nataputta's speech is deceptive in suggesting that Abhaya will earn public respect by refuting the Buddha's teaching (or even that such an outcome were possible); malicious in wishing to see the Buddha squirm ("If an iron spike were stuck in a man's throat, he would not be able either to gulp it down or to throw it up; so too, prince, when the recluse Gotama is posed this two-horned question by you, he will not be able either to gulp it down or to throw it up"); harsh in recalling that "Devadatta was angry and dissatisfied with that speech of yours"; and idle in failing to offer any justification for his attack on a rival teacher.
xxvii Abhayarajakumara Sutta, p. 500.
xxviii Kinti Sutta, "What Do You Think of Me?", Majjhima Nikaya 103; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), pp. 847-852. I would like to thank Andrew Olendzki for suggesting this text.
xxix Richard H. Robinson and Willard L. Johnson, The Buddhist Religion: A Historical Introduction, Fourth Edition (Belmont, CA; Wadsworth, 1997), p. 47.
xxx See Thomas Freeman Yarnall, "Engaged Buddhism: New and Improved?" in Christopher Queen, Charles Prebish, and Damien Keown, eds., Action Dharma: New Essays in Engaged Buddhism ( Surrey , UK : Curzon Press, in press).
xxxi Bernard Glassman's Peacemaker Community has long practiced interfaith worship and collaboration on local projects, and the Buddhist Peace Fellowship organized a public forum with Muslim leaders in the San Francisco Bay area in the days following the terrorist attacks. But neither of these initiatives have been publicized, to my knowledge. There have been no public statements or mobilization of Buddhist practitioners in this direction.
xxxii See my discussion of the four styles of Buddhist ethics in "Introduction: A New Buddhism," in Christopher S. Queen, ed., Engaged Buddhism in the West ( Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2000), pp. 11-17.
xxxiii Sulak Sivaraksa, "Buddhism and Human Rights in Siam," in Socially Engaged Buddhism for the New Millennium, Essays in honor of the Ven. Phra Dhammapitaka (Bhikkhu P. A. Payutto) on his 60 th birthday anniversary (Bangkok: Sathirakoses-Nagapradipa Foundation and Foundation for Children, 1999), p. 203.
http://www.sulak-sivaraksa.org/en/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=93&Itemid=104
Followers of Ambedkar's Buddhism since the 1950s have never mistaken this passage as a call to violence in their struggle against the caste system, but rather as an invitation to "educate, agitate, and organize"-a popular slogan of the movement. Since its inception, the war for Dalit equality has been a war of words and gestures-protest poetry and posters, book burning and book writing, marches and demonstrations-the rhetoric and ritual of political discourse. And, in spite of their differences with Gandhi over the future of caste, the new Buddhists in India have seldom strayed from the practice of nonviolence.
Yet Ambedkar's speech has always seemed harsh, polarizing, and disturbing to traditional Buddhists, who believe that the Dhamma is a tradition of "right speech" (sammaa vaacaa). As the third step on the Noble Eightfold Path and the fourth injunction in the Five Precepts (pa~ncha shiila)-both cardinal formulas in the practice of lay Buddhism-right speech is generally taken to mean the avoidance of lying, slander, and divisiveness; of "harsh, rude, impolite, malicious and abusive language"; and of "idle, useless and foolish babble and gossip." ii
Few Buddhist leaders today, whether politically engaged or not, associate right speech with direct challenges to persons or groups that cause social suffering in the world. For the Dalai Lama of Tibet, overcoming anger is the prerequisite to addressing the atrocities of the Chinese occupation, for the Chinese people have themselves been deprived of human rights.iii For Thich Nhat Hanh, the exiled Vietnamese Zen master, the "true names" of suffering encompass both oppressor and oppressed, predator and prey, while the practice of right speech entails the avoidance of "any doctrine, theory, or ideology, even Buddhist ones" that may cause further enmity. iv
In this paper, we examine a range of speech patterns in the practice and writings of engaged Buddhists, from Ambedkar's marching orders to the more calming calls-to-order of the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh. I follow the Thai reformer, Sulak Sivaraksa, as well as ancient commentators, in interpreting "speech" in the broadest sense-as oral and written expression and the symbol systems of mass communication, visual as well as verbal.v We shall examine some early Buddhist texts on right speech, beginning with the contrast between the Kakacuupama Sutta's advocacy for speech that is "timely, true, gentle, beneficial, and friendly" (Majjhima Nikaaya 21.1l) and that of the Abhayaraajakumaara Sutta, for speech that is timely, true, and beneficial-but possibly "unwelcome and disagreeable" (M 58.8). In the final section, I propose a formulation of "prophetic speech" for engaged Buddhism that avoids the psychic violence of interpersonal vilification and inter-group polarization, as well as the harmonizing, potentially narcotizing, non-dualistic speech that always finds the cause of suffering in the sufferer's habits of mind.
I
Sallie King, in a study of themes and dynamics in the Buddhist Liberation Movements of Asia, has identified what she calls the modalities of "love" and "prophetic voice" in the struggle for social change.vi The voice of love recognizes no enemies-except the greed, hatred, and delusion within each person-and is exemplified in the speeches and writings of Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh. The prophetic voice, King writes, "maintains a separation between self and other and does not hesitate to denounce what it sees as error and those whose actions are in error." Among the prophetic Buddhists, in her terms, are Ambedkar, Sulak, and the Soka Gakkai lay movement from Japan . Let us consider examples from the Ambedkar movement.
Long before Dr. Ambedkar revealed his intention to convert to Buddhism, he was famous in India for his stinging editorials and speeches on British colonialism and the Hindu caste system. He excoriated the British and Brahmins alike in his doctoral dissertation on Indian provincial finance, submitted to the Columbia Graduate School in 1923. In 1930, addressing the first Indian Round Table Conference in London-meetings that laid the groundwork for Indian independence-he likened the British Raj to "the Chinese tailor who, when given an old coat as a pattern, reproduced with pride an exact replica, rents, patches and all." Speaking for the 43,000,000 Untouchables of India ("as large as the populations of England or France "), he concluded, "our wrongs have remained as open sores and they have not been righted, although 150 years of British rule have rolled away."vii
Perhaps more significant than Ambedkar's rhetoric is the interpretation it received at the hand of a Dalit Buddhist author in 1968, a dozen years after Ambedkar's conversion and untimely death. D. C. Ahir, the lay historian of the new Buddhist movement, presents Ambedkar's political tirades as models of Buddhist right speech, and Ambedkar as an epitome of the "modern bodhisattva" who exemplifies the saintly virtues of traditional Buddhism. "Dr. Ambedkar always spoke without any reservations and with clarity of mind," Ahir claims. "He always adhered to the truth, no matter whether it pleased or annoyed others. His theses were always full of free and frank opinion and sometimes ended with strong condemnation of the existing procedures and practices."viii
The final example of what Ahir calls "the right speech at the right moment" was Ambedkar's impromptu remarks at the fourth conference of the World Fellowship of Buddhists, held in Kathmandu in November 1956. While the bulk of the speech compared Marxism and Buddhism as programs for social change-Ambedkar came out for Buddhism as the nonviolent option-the ailing leader, speaking only two weeks before his death, addressed the question of leadership in the Buddhist world:
If I may say so in conclusion, if any peril arises to the Dhamma in a Buddhist country, the blame shall have to be cast upon the Bhikkhus, because I personally think that they are not wholly discharging the duty which devolves on them. Where is the preaching?
The Bhikkhu is living in his cloister taking his meal no doubt and sitting quietly; probably he is reading, and most probably I find [him] sleeping, and in the evening having a little music. That is not the way of propagating religion.
My friends, I want to tell you, I do not want to criticize anybody, but for religion to be a moral force for the regeneration of society, you must constantly din it into the ears of the people.ix
In the years since Kathmandu , Ambedkar's followers have attempted to carry on his version of right speech. The 1970s saw the rise of the Dalit Panther Party, modeled on the Black Panthers in the U.S. , and a kind of Buddhist "beat literature" or Dalit Sahitya (the word dalit, meaning "broken," perhaps not so far from "beat"). While the Dalit Panthers and poets were not always focused on religion, there are notable exceptions. In the spirit of the twenty-two vows Ambedkar wrote to accompany the traditional Three Refuges and Five Precepts at the massive Buddhist conversion ceremony in October 1956-vows that repudiate the beliefs and practices of Hinduism and pledge allegiance to the new faith-Dalit poets like Daya Pawar and Namdeo Dhasal imagine the Buddha walking through the Untouchable's slums, and they identify with the notorious mass killer, Angulimala, whose madness was arrested in his encounter with the Buddha. In the poem, "One Day I Cursed that Mother-fucker God," Keshav Meshram treats the hypocrisy of high-caste academics who "sat in their big rooms fragrant with incense / their bellies full of food / and debated."x
Among the protest posters I have collected in India are three that cry out from the wall. In one, the slogan "Educate, Agitate, Organize" is illustrated by three children-a girl in academic cap-and-gown and two boys in dhotis, one with fist raised and the other holding a torch aloft-standing before a giant image of Ambedkar. In the second, Ambedkar holds the torch in one hand and a copy of the Dhammapada in the other, as masses of pilgrims file through the gateways at the Sanchi Stupa-and, by implication, into Buddhism. In the third poster, probably used for Panther recruiting, Ambedkar stands approvingly behind a child holding a military rifle and bayonet, a bandolier slung across his chest, with a necklace reading Jai Bhim, "Victory to Ambedkar." In fact, the Hindi slogan at the top of the poster, "He who tolerates oppression is worse than the oppressor," as well as the poster's violent image, would have been repugnant to Ambedkar, who drafted the Indian Constitution and supported nonviolent, democratic social change throughout his life.xi
II
A day after the terrorist attacks of September 11, many people received an e-mail copy of a letter the Dalai Lama sent to President George W. Bush. The Tibetan leader expressed his shock and sadness at the devastation and suffering caused in the attacks, and conveyed the prayers of the Tibetan people for those who were killed, injured, and traumatized. Then, speaking as one leader to another, His Holiness wrote,
It may seem presumptuous on my part, but I personally believe we need to think seriously whether a violent action is the right thing to do and in the greater interest of the nation and people in the long run. I believe violence will only increase the cycle of violence. But how do we deal with hatred and anger, which are often the root causes of such senseless violence? This is a very difficult question, especially when it concerns a nation and we have certain fixed conceptions of how to deal with such attacks. I am sure that you will make the right decision.xii
As an example of right speech in a time of crisis, the Dalai Lama's letter is instructive. The author sets aside his stature as a spiritual and temporal leader and Nobel laureate to establish a human connection, not only with the addressee, but with all who suffer. The tone is one of solidarity, compassion, solicitude, and confidence in a healing process to come. Even when the author presumes to give advice, his admonition to avoid violence is offered in the mildest way. For the Tibetan leader, there are no enemies other than hatred, anger, and violence itself. This is Sallie King's modality of love, the opposite of the prophetic stance exemplified by Ambedkar.
For half a century, the Dalai Lama's refusal to vilify the people who have laid waste to Tibet has stood as the embodiment of Buddhist virtues, particularly impartiality (Pali upekkha) and restraint (Sanskrit kshanti). His habit of rising at four a.m. to practice loving-kindness meditation toward the Chinese and of practicing mindful awareness throughout the day in order to overcome moments of anger are well known.
In his evening address to the Nobel Committee in 1989, the Dalai Lama alluded in passing to right speech in his exposition of the Buddhist philosophy of nonviolence.
There are many different levels of violence and nonviolence. On the basis of external action, it is difficult to distinguish whether an action is violent or non-violent. Basically, it depends on the motivation behind the action. If the motivation is negative, even though the external appearance may be very smooth and gentle, in a deeper sense the action is very violent. On the contrary, harsh actions and words done with a sincere, positive motivation are essentially non-violent.xiii
Yet the Dalai Lama's love ethic does not include harsh actions or words. Even in detailing the devastation that had befallen his country, His Holiness found something praiseworthy to say about the Chinese. Commenting on their crackdown on the democracy movement in Beijing earlier in 1989, the new Peace laureate concluded, "The brave students and their supporters showed the Chinese leadership and the world the human face of that great nation."xiv
Two weeks after the terrorist attacks, on September 25, Thich Nhat Hanh ran a full-page ad in the New York Times. Announcing an evening of meditation and music on the theme "Embracing Anger" to be held at Manhattan 's Riverside Church that night, the ad featured a poem and a statement on violence by Thich Nhat Hanh. The poem is entitled "For Warmth."
I hold my face in my two hands.
No I am not crying.
I hold my face in my two hands.
To keep my loneliness warm
two hands protecting,
two hands nourishing,
two hands preventing
my soul from leaving me in anger.
Nhat Hanh explains, "I wrote this poem during the Vietnam War after I heard about the bombing of Ben Tre city. The city of 300,000 was destroyed because guerrillas fired several rounds of unsuccessful anti-aircraft gunfire and then left. My pain was profound."xv
The statement was similar to the Dalai Lama's message to President Bush. It expressed personal condolences for all who suffered in the attacks; it offered the teaching that violence is a form of injustice, which is compounded a thousand-fold by violent retaliation; and it conveyed heartfelt wishes and prayers for awareness, compassion, and healing. Nhat Hanh announced that he and others had begun a ten-day fast in support of the all who suffered in the attacks, and, like the Dalai Lama's expression of confidence in the President's judgment, he ended with "the conviction that America possesses enough wisdom and courage to perform an act of forgiveness and compassion."
Thich Nhat Hanh's version of non-dualizing speech offers another point of contrast to Ambedkar's denunciation of persons and policies that cause human suffering. Like the Dalai Lama, Thich Nhat Hanh has consistently practiced non-opposition, non-separation, and operational interdependence in his political statements and actions. During the War in Vietnam , he refused to denounce the Diem regime, though he approved the movement that brought it down. According to Sallie King, his support was possible because the anti-Diem forces, including leaders of the Unified Buddhist Church , were "a spontaneous movement ‘without any prescribed doctrine,' with ‘pure intention,' without any thought of ‘toppling the Diem government in order to come to power,' [in which] ‘no desire, no ambition, [was] involved.'"xvi
These principles are set forth in two of Thich Nhat Hanh's best-known writings: the poem, "Please Call Me By My True Names," and the fourteen precepts of his Tiep Hien Order, or Order of Interbeing. The poem was written in 1976 when Nhat Hanh learned of the suicide of a twelve-year-old girl, one of the "boat people" crossing the Gulf of Siam . She was raped by a sea pirate and threw herself into the sea. The poet, familiar with the harsh conditions in the remote villages along the coast of Thailand where the pirate grew up, wrote of his deep identification with the girl and the pirate. "I was angry when I received the news of her death, but I learned after meditation for several hours that I could not just take sides against the pirate. I saw that if I had been born in his village and brought up under the same conditions, I would be exactly like him." xvii
Commenting on the poem years later, Nhat Hanh adds-in words that prefigure his response to the attacks of September 11-"We think we need an enemy. Governments work hard to get us to be afraid and to hate so we will rally behind them. If we do not have a real enemy, they will invent one in order to mobilize us. . . .It is not correct to believe that the world's situation is in the hands of the government and that if the President would only have the correct policies, there would be peace."xvii
Thich Nhat Hanh devotes two of the fourteen precepts of his Order of Interbeing to right speech, numbers eight and nine:
Do not utter words that can create discord and cause the community to break. Make every effort to reconcile and resolve all conflicts, however small.
Do not say untruthful things for the sake of personal interest or to impress people. Do not utter words that cause division and hatred. Do not spread news that you do not know to be certain. Do not criticize or condemn things that you are not sure of. Always speak truthfully and constructively. Have the courage to speak out about situations of injustice, even when doing so may threaten your own safety.
In placing these teachings near the center of his guidelines for lay practitioners of engaged Buddhism, Nhat Hanh demonstrates the function of speech as the interface between mind (to which the first seven precepts are devoted) and body (which concerns the last five precepts). It is perhaps significant that the seventh precept, on the mindfulness of breathing-which he identifies as the heart of Buddhist practice-precedes the precepts on speech, which begins with the modulation of the breath.xix
III
Shakyamuni Buddha was often addressed as "teacher," or sattha, by his followers. Unlike rabbi, the generic title used to address Jesus of Nazareth and other Jewish leaders in Biblical times, Sattha was reserved for the Buddha alone in the Pali scriptures. Unlike acariya and upajjhaya (Skt. acarya, upadhyaya), common terms for teacher used to describe "those in the monastic community who carried out instruction of young monks and nuns in ‘doctrines and ordinances,'" the term sattha, according to Willis Stoesz, is descended from the Vedic root sas, which means "to chastise, restrain, administer, order, instruct, announce, and predict."xx
What interests us here, of course, are "chastise and restrain." Certainly all of these terms suggest a person of authority who directs as well as teaches. As Stoesz writes, the Buddha was "an authoritative figure who wished his disciples to discover truth (dhamma) for themselves, and who was able to arrange matters so that this indeed happened. . . .
He became the founder of a community growing from his teaching which made a point of its inner cohesiveness, involving both monastics and laity, specialists in human excellence and admirers of that excellence, in interrelated roles. In this setting the Buddha as teacher combined authority and flexibility, order and freedom, in a way that insures his enduring interest to us."xxi
It is in this context that the early tradition offers a series of teachings on the practice of right speech that take up our question, namely, Under what circumstances may a practitioner of the dhamma chastise and restrain others, or otherwise utter words of judgment or condemnation?
In the Abhayarajakumara Sutta, young prince Abhaya attempts to trick the Buddha with the question, "Would the Tathagata utter speech that would be unwelcome and disagreeable to others?" He believed that a negative answer would belie the Buddha's condemnation of his murderous cousin, Devadatta, while a positive answer would deny the conventional wisdom that right speech is gentle and agreeable.xxii For in the standard formula, the Buddha teaches that "Abstaining from false speech, abstaining from malicious speech, abstaining from harsh speech, and abstaining from idle chatter-this is called right speech."xxiii Elsewhere, the Buddha praises one who "speaks such words as are gentle, pleasing to the ear, and loveable, as go to the heart, are courteous, desired by many, and agreeable to many."xxiv On another occasion we hear that right speech is "timely, true, gentle, beneficial, and spoken with loving-kindness."xxv
The drama of the Abhaya Sutta is established at the outset, for the prince has been set up by a famous rival of the Buddha, Nagantha Nataputta, the Jain founder and leader better known as Mahavira. In sending Abhaya to trick the Buddha, Nataputta illustrates all of the no-no's of Buddhist right speech: his instructions are deceptive, malicious, harshly stated, and, in light of his standing as a respected teacher (unlike Devadatta, the black sheep of the Sakya clan), idle and pointless.xxvi
After exposing the naivete of the question-"There is no one-sided answer to that, prince"-the Buddha, in typical fashion, poses his own question. Seeing that the young prince is cradling an infant in his lap (a vivid detail that would seem to anchor the story in a real encounter), the Buddha asks what he would do if the child suddenly choked on a stick or pebble. The prince immediately replies, "I would take it out. . .even if it meant drawing blood. Why is that? Because I have compassion for the child." (The imagery is graphic because Nataputta had promised that the original dilemma would be to the Buddha like an iron spike stuck in a man's throat, which he could neither gulp down nor throw up!)
Now the genius of the Buddha is revealed as he compares a life-saving but possibly painful operation to the use of right speech which is truthful and beneficial but possibly unwelcome and disagreeable. Unlike speech which is untruthful or unbeneficial, but welcome and agreeable-such as empty flattery or cunning manipulation-the unwanted truth may be spoken if (and this is a big if ) the message is beneficial and timely. "The Tathagata knows the time to use such speech. . . .Why is that? Because the Tathagata [like a skillful doctor or loving parent] has compassion for beings."xxvii
As if the monks then ask for clarification of the circumstances in which unwelcome and disagreeable speech is permissible, the Buddha continues his exposition in the Kinti Sutta, also collected in the Middle-Length Sayings of the Sutta Pitaka.xxviii The setting is the life of the monastic community, when the monks "are training in concord, with mutual appreciation, without disputing." Yet if someone commits an offence or a transgression of the monastic code, the question is posed, What, if anything, should be said to the offender?
Here, the Buddha formulates a moral calculus with five variables: (1) I shall/shall not be troubled by admonishing the person, (2) the other person will/will not be hurt by my admonishment, (3) the other person is/is not given to anger and revenge, (4) the other person is/is not firmly attached to his view and relinquishes it easily, and (5) I can/cannot make that person emerge from the unwholesome and establish him in the wholesome. In the end, the only variable that counts is the last one-that the corrective speech is beneficial to the offender and will reestablish wholeness in his or her life:
Then it may occur to you, bhikkhus: ‘I shall be troubled and the other person will be hurt; for the other person is given to anger and revenge, and he is firmly attached to his view and he relinquishes with difficulty; yet I can make that person emerge from the unwholesome and establish him in the wholesome. It is a mere trifle that I shall be troubled and the other person hurt, but it is a much greater thing that I can make that person emerge from the unwholesome and establish him in the wholesome.' If such occurs to you, bhikkhus, it is proper to speak.
And in the event that the other person is hopelessly resistant to correction, the Buddha prudently concludes, "One should not underrate equanimity towards such a person." In other words, it is time to practice the Buddha's noble silence.
IV
Let us sum up our findings. We have contrasted the prophetic speech of Ambedkar with the loving rhetoric of the Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh, and we have found in the Pali canon a warrant for speech that chastises and restrains, as long as it is timely, truthful, compassionate, and effective. We might conclude that the full range of engaged Buddhist speech, from reticent to revolutionary, is justified by the calculus of psychology and pragmatism offered in the early tradition. Yet there is a discontinuity implicit in the evidence we have considered-namely, that the modern figures are speaking and acting on a stage of global politics, while the Buddha speaks to members of his own community and those who came to him for instruction or guidance. This is no mean distinction.
It is well known that the early Vinaya regulations were carefully synchronized with the needs of the state. Draft dodgers were not admitted to the order, for example, and order members who delivered messages or ran errands for others-by implication engaging in political activity-were subject to expulsion. The Buddha offered sangha membership to all, regardless of caste and class, but never denounced the caste system or those who enforced or benefited from it. As Robinson and Johnson note,
The Buddha praised the ideal society as one in which the king obeyed the law and freely dispensed seed grants of money for his subjects. . . . [But] he never mentioned this ideal to the kings who were his followers. Instead, he taught the ideal to people at large, perhaps secure in the knowledge that as it gained wider acceptance, it would ultimately affect those who actually wielded power.xxix
Thus, the Buddha's teachings on the morality of the cakkavatti or "universal monarch" (e.g. Cakkavatti-sihanada Sutta, Digha Nikaya II.80-98) and the utopian ideal of the state as a social contract between charismatic ruler and consenting subjects (Agganna Sutta, Digha Nikaya III.58-79) were never illustrated by tales of royal abuse or prophetic speech by an indignant Buddha.
So we may conclude that the application of the Buddha's guidelines for corrective speech-not necessarily harsh, but not necessarily welcome and agreeable either-to persons or parties outside the religious community, particularly to political leaders, social institutions, economic systems, and public policies and procedures, has been the work of engaged Buddhists in the modern world, and not a pattern of Buddhist speech modeled in the early scriptures. The question of whether the intervening two thousand years of Buddhist history in Asia offer useful examples of prophetic speech-again, speech which seeks to judge and correct the ethical misconduct of persons and institutions outside the religious community-is perhaps an unsettled issue in the study of engaged Buddhist ethics. Some scholars believe that sufficient examples prior to, say, the late nineteenth century, may be found.xxx Yet no one has enumerated them, and in the absence of this evidence, I continue to hold that prophetic speech, like engaged Buddhism itself, is a new and much-needed development in the history of Buddhism.
Why much-needed? Unlike the Quakers, whose slogan "Speak truth to power" complements a crusading, nonviolent activism, most Buddhists today, including those who are socially and politically engaged, are loath to challenge leaders, governments, and institutions that have the power to inflict or relieve social suffering. The Dalai Lama and Thich Nhat Hanh were not alone in focusing on the victims, pleading for nonviolence, and hoping for the best in their statements following September 11. Internet statements by many stalwarts of engaged Buddhism-the Buddhist Peace Fellowship, Bernard Glassman, Joanna Macy, Ken Jones, and Robert Aitken Roshi-were long on psychology and short on policy recommendations, other than a common rejection of military responses. No one condemned the terrorists or their sponsors, nor did they propose any special Buddhist outreach to the people of Islam. No one issued a public call to Buddhist-Muslim dialogue on issues of spiritual practice and social ethics, before or after September 11.xxxi
That Buddhist voices are muted, if not missing, in the global debate over human rights, economic justice, and political tyranny is not a measure of the tradition's lack of spiritual and conceptual resources in times of crisis. Even a glance at its central teachings, such as nonviolence, generosity, patience, compassion, and interdependence would suggest that public leaders and organizations may be judged as "wholesome" or "unwholesome" in their exercise of power and influence. Condemning criminal activity such as terrorism, piracy, prostitution, slavery, and the black markets in drugs and arms should not be incompatible with the mindful awareness of one's complicity in evil. But it is doubtful that identifying with the sea pirate and the arms dealer, or dwelling on their past sufferings, is a skillful response to the death of innocents.
I have suggested elsewhere that there are four styles of Buddhist ethics, those of discipline, virtue, altruism, and engagement. The earliest teachings on right speech we have examined exemplify the first three. The avoidance of untruthful, malicious, harsh and frivolous speech reflect an ethic of discipline, restraint, and circumspection. The cultivation of speech that promotes harmony, concord, peace, and agreeable states of mind is consistent with a virtue ethic. The Buddha's estimate of the proper time to admonish a colleague or to remain silent was based on the likelihood of its benefit to the other-even when such speech is troubling to the speaker and unwelcome to the audience. Such is the ethic of altruism.xxxii
In conclusion, I would propose that the application of the Buddha's guidelines for speech that is unwelcome and disagreeable (or "harsh," if you will) to leaders and institutions that cause great suffering in the world be called, as Sallie King has suggested, "prophetic speech," and that that speech be identified with the practice of socially engaged Buddhism. Remembering that the guidelines stipulate a benevolent motive on the speaker's part, and the likelihood of benefit to the hearer and to those he or she has the power to affect, we may hope that the discomfort caused by such speech will be limited and temporary-"a mere trifle," as the text says-in comparison to the good that may result in the long run.
Purity of motive and perfection of outcome are probably too much to ask in such situations. But the later tradition allows for bodhisattvas to take on a certain amount of bad karma in order to liberate others. And it may be that by the use of prophetic speech, the resort to physical violence-a greater source of bad karma-may be avoided. It is in this sense that all forms of right speech may represent a welcome middle path between the unwholesome extremes of moral passivity and anger-based violence.
I should like to close with an example of engaged Buddhist speech that, I believe, meets the tests of compassion and efficacy proposed by the Buddha in ancient times. Sulak Sivaraksa, who had been jailed and exiled more than once for his outspokenness on issues of human and environmental rights, addressed the criminal court in Bangkok on April 3, 1995, during one of his trials for Lese Majeste, or admonishing the government.
Unrepentent for his exercise of prophetic speech, Sulak grounded it in his faith and practice as a Buddhist intellectual and activist.
Of course I know that to attack the dictator or the people in power is to bring harm to myself, but I regard it as my duty to conscientize the people to see the value of the commoner. I see that ordinary people should be aware of their own dignity, equality and self confidence-the basic elements of democracy. I have never submitted to any authority and have challenged corrupted authority all through my life. Society will fail if people submit to corrupt authority. . . .
As an intellectual, I have to criticize the wrong direction of development which worships greed, hatred and delusion-the root causes of suffering. I have to make known to the people the value of sila [the Buddhist precepts], samadhi [concentration] and panna [wisdom] so that they will fight nonviolently against unjust authority following the Eightfold Path of the Buddha.xxxiii
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1. This paper was first delivered at the American Academy of Religion in November 19, 2001 in the panel on "Engaged Buddhist Ethics: The Dialectic of Buddhist Tradition and Contemporary Globalism."
2. Christopher Queen is the Dean of Students for Continuing Education and lecturer on the study of religion in the Faculty of Arts and Science, Harvard University. A student of Buddhism since 1965, he has practiced vipassana meditation since 1978. He is a leader to forming the field of study on engaged Buddhism, and is the co-editor and contributor to Engaged Buddhism: Buddhist Liberation Movements in Asia (1996), American Buddhism: Methods and Findings in Recent Scholarship (1999), Engaged Buddhism in the West (2000), and Action Dharma: New Studies in Engaged Buddhism (2003).
i B. R. Ambedkar, The Buddha and His Dhamma. Third Edition (Bombay: Siddharth Publication: 1984), pp. 326-327
ii Walpola Rahula, What the Buddha Taught, Revised Edition (New York: Grove Press, 1974), p. 47.
iii Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile (New York: Harper Collins, 1990), p. 261; and Kindness, Clarity, and Insight J. Hopkins and E. Napper, eds. (Ithaca, N.Y.: Snow Lion, 1984), p. 62; cited by Jose Ignacio Cabezon, "Buddhist Principles in the Tibetan Liberation Movement," in Engaged Buddhism: Buddhist Liberation Movements in Asia, Christopher S. Queen and Sallie B. King, eds. (Albany, N.Y., State University of New York Press, 1996), pp. 304-305.
iv Thich Nhat Hanh, Being Peace (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1987), p. 89; Love in Action: Writings on Nonviolent Social Change (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1993), pp. 107-112.
v Sivaraksa speaks of all "patterns of information that condition our understanding of the world." Sulak Sivaraksa, Seeds of Peace: A Buddhist Vision for Reviewing Society (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1992), p. 77.
Peter Harvey finds support for this broad definition of "speech" in traditional Buddhist prohibition of "non-verbal deception by gesture or other indication" in Vasubandhu's Abhidharma-kosa-basyam IV.75; Buddhaghosa's Atthasalini 99; and the canonical Khuddaka-patha, Anguttara Nikaya 26. See Harvey, Introduction to Buddhist Ethics ( Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 75.
vi Sallie B. King, "Conclusion," in Queen and King, op. cit., pp. 430-434.
vii Quoted by D. C. Ahir, Buddhism and Ambedkar (New Delhi: Dalit Sahitya Prakashan, 1968, 1990), pp. 53-56.
viii Ibid., p. 53.
ix Ibid., p. 60.
x Cited by Eleanor Zelliot, " India's Ex-Untouchables: New Past, New Future and the New Poetry," in Zelliot, From Untouchable to Dalit: Essays on the Ambedkar Movement (New Delhi: Manohar, 1992), pp. 293-316.
xi The latter two posters are produced by "Shant Studio"; all three are distributed by Samyak Sahitya Sadan, Ambedkar Bhawan, New Delhi 55.
xii The Dalai Lama, e-mail message, Dharamsala, India, September 12, 2001.
xiii The Dalai Lama, "The Nobel Evening Address," in The Nobel Prize and the Dalai Lama, Sidney Piburn, ed. (Ithaca, NY: Snow Lion,, 1990), p. 52, emphasis added.
xiv The Dalai Lama, "Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech," Piburn, op. cit., p. 25.
xv Thich Nhat Hanh advertisement, "An Evening of Peace," New York Times, September 25, 2001, p. A5.
xvi King, op. cit., pp. 432-433.
xvii Thich Nhat Hanh, Love in Action: Writings on Nonviolent Social Change (Berkeley: Parallax Press, 1993), p. 107.
xviii Ibid. p. 109.
xix It is useful to compare Nhat Hanh's order, moving from mind through breath to body, with the Ashtanga Yoga system of Patanjali, in which the behavioral precepts lead up to posture and breathing, then to mantra (speech), and finally to pure meditation. See Daniel Goleman, The Varieties of Meditative Experience (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1977), pp. 74-80.
xx Willis Stoesz, "The Buddha as Teacher," Journal of the AmericanAcademy of Religion, Vol. 46, No. 2 (1978): 140-141.
xxi Ibid.
xxii Abhayarajakumara Sutta, "To Prince Abhaya," Majjima Nikaya 58; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), pp. 498-501.
xxiii E.g. Saccavibhanga Sutta, "The Exposition of the Truths," Majjhima Nikaya 141; ; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), pp. 1100.
xxiiiv Sevitabbaasevitabba Sutta, "To Be Cultivated and Not To Be Cultivated," Majjhima Nikaya 114; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), p. 916.
xxv Kakacupama Sutta, "The Simile of the Saw," Majjhima Nikaya 21; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), pp. 220-221.
xxvi Nataputta's speech is deceptive in suggesting that Abhaya will earn public respect by refuting the Buddha's teaching (or even that such an outcome were possible); malicious in wishing to see the Buddha squirm ("If an iron spike were stuck in a man's throat, he would not be able either to gulp it down or to throw it up; so too, prince, when the recluse Gotama is posed this two-horned question by you, he will not be able either to gulp it down or to throw it up"); harsh in recalling that "Devadatta was angry and dissatisfied with that speech of yours"; and idle in failing to offer any justification for his attack on a rival teacher.
xxvii Abhayarajakumara Sutta, p. 500.
xxviii Kinti Sutta, "What Do You Think of Me?", Majjhima Nikaya 103; English translation by Bhikkhu Nanamoli and Bhikkhu Bodhi, The Middle Length Discourses of the Buddha: A New Tranlation of the Majjhima Nikaya (Boston: Wisdom Publications, 1995), pp. 847-852. I would like to thank Andrew Olendzki for suggesting this text.
xxix Richard H. Robinson and Willard L. Johnson, The Buddhist Religion: A Historical Introduction, Fourth Edition (Belmont, CA; Wadsworth, 1997), p. 47.
xxx See Thomas Freeman Yarnall, "Engaged Buddhism: New and Improved?" in Christopher Queen, Charles Prebish, and Damien Keown, eds., Action Dharma: New Essays in Engaged Buddhism ( Surrey , UK : Curzon Press, in press).
xxxi Bernard Glassman's Peacemaker Community has long practiced interfaith worship and collaboration on local projects, and the Buddhist Peace Fellowship organized a public forum with Muslim leaders in the San Francisco Bay area in the days following the terrorist attacks. But neither of these initiatives have been publicized, to my knowledge. There have been no public statements or mobilization of Buddhist practitioners in this direction.
xxxii See my discussion of the four styles of Buddhist ethics in "Introduction: A New Buddhism," in Christopher S. Queen, ed., Engaged Buddhism in the West ( Boston: Wisdom Publications, 2000), pp. 11-17.
xxxiii Sulak Sivaraksa, "Buddhism and Human Rights in Siam," in Socially Engaged Buddhism for the New Millennium, Essays in honor of the Ven. Phra Dhammapitaka (Bhikkhu P. A. Payutto) on his 60 th birthday anniversary (Bangkok: Sathirakoses-Nagapradipa Foundation and Foundation for Children, 1999), p. 203.
http://www.sulak-sivaraksa.org/en/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=93&Itemid=104
No comments:
Post a Comment