| Money, Sex, War, Karma |
Notes for a Buddhist Revolution
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Extract :
From the Introduction –
Now that Buddhism has come to the West, how are they changing each other?
Half a century ago the British historian Arnold Toynbee predicted that their encounter would be a major event in world history. According to one account he even claimed that the arrival of Buddhism in the West “may well prove to be the most important event of the twentieth century” Given everything else that’s happened in the last hundred years, one hesitates to agree with him, yet today we can appreciate better that the arrival of Buddhism does mark something special. For the first time, most of the world’s major civilizations—I’m thinking of India, China, Japan, and the West— are not only interacting militarily and economically but their world— views are in serious conversation with each other.
Nothing like this has ever happened before. Thanks to the density and speed of interaction provided by modern information and transportation technologies, the global dialogue between East and West is opening up possibilities that we cannot anticipate. This encounter also challenges Buddhism in new ways. If the Dharma is to fulfill its liberative potential, it must make the transition from being an Asian tradition (more accurately several Asian traditions) into a teaching that speaks more directly to the spiritual needs of modern people living in a globalizing world.
What does that imply about the ways contemporary Buddhism is being taught and practiced?
Buddhism is the oldest of the world’s three big missionary religions, the other two being Christianity and Islam. Each was so successful because it became the religion of an empire (in the case of Buddhism, the empire of Ashoka in the third century B.C.E., which included most of South Asia). This does not mean that Buddhism spread by the sword. Its expansion to Ceylon and Southeast Asia, and later north of the Himalayas, seems to have been a peaceful affair. In accord with its own emphasis on insubstantiality and interpenetration, Buddhism spread by infiltrating other cultures, subverting their religions to its own purposes. Native mythologies were not suppressed but reinterpreted in Buddhist terms. In China, for example, Mahayana Buddhism resonated with Taoism and their intercourse gave birth to Chan (Zen). In Tibet, tantric Buddhism merged with Bön shamanism and the fruit was Tibetan Buddhism.
This adaptability did not always work to Buddhism’s advantage. There were many factors that led to the eventual disappearance of Buddhism in its birthplace, India, but one of them, ironically, was its influence on Brahmanism and other local traditions. Buddhism became more dispensable once some of its key elements had been absorbed. As the art historian and philosopher Ananda Coomaraswamy put it, “Brahmanism killed Buddhism with a fraternal embrace:’ For example, the Buddhist understanding of nirvana influenced Hindu notions of moksha liberation, and Buddhist innovations such as the two—truths doctrine were adopted and adapted by Vedanta.
This history is worth remembering as Buddhism faces its biggest transition yet. To influence the modern world, Buddhism must adapt to it. But is its present popularity another fraternal hug? The threat today is not Western religions but psychology and consumerism. Is the Dharma becoming another form of psychotherapy? Another commodity to be bought and sold? Will Western Buddhism end up all too compatible with our individualistic consumption patterns, with expensive retreats and initiations catering to over—stressed converts eager to pursue their own enlightenment? Let’s hope not, because Buddhism and the West need each other.
Despite its economic and technological dynamism, Western civilization and its globalization are in trouble—which means all of us are in trouble. The most obvious example is our inability to respond to accelerating climate change as seriously as it requires, if humanity is to survive and thrive over the next few centuries. There’s no need to go on at length here about the other social and ecological crises that confront us now, which are increasingly difficult to ignore; many of those are considered in the following chapters. It’s also becoming harder to overlook the fact that the political and economic systems we’re so proud of seem unable to address these problems. One must ask: Is that because they themselves are the problem?
Part of the problem is leadership, or the lack of it, but we can’t simply blame our rulers. It’s not only the lack of a moral core among those who rise to the top, or the institutional deformations that massage their rise. Economic and political elites (and there’s not much difference between them anymore), like the rest of us, are in need of a new vision of human possibility: what it means to be human, why we tend to get into trouble, and how we can get out of it. Those who benefit most from present social arrangements may think of themselves as hard—headed realists, but as self—conscious human beings we remain motivated by some such vision whether we’re aware of it or not. As “Why We Love War” points out, even secular modernity is based on a spiritual worldview—unfortunately a deficient one, from a Buddhist perspective.
The Dharma talks and essays that follow offer examples of how Buddhist teachings can illuminate our situation. Yet influence is a two-way street. The exotic names, robes, and rituals of Asian Buddhism are attractive to many of us, but sooner or later we must begin to distinguish the imported forms that we appreciate from the essential Dharma that we need. Buddhism needs to take advantage of its encounter with modern/postmodern civilization—offering a greater challenge than Buddhism has ever faced before—to engage in a self— examination that attempts to distinguish ‘what is vital and still living in its Asian versions from what is unnecessary and perhaps outdated.
This is dangerous, of course. There is always the possibility of throwing out the baby with the bathwater—but the alternative is to keep immersing ourselves in waters that have become tepid and muddied. We should accept that the Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana traditions we have learned so much from are particular historical, culturally contingent forms that the Dharma has taken in pre—modern Asia. Buddhism might have evolved differently, and today it needs to continue evolving, in order to find the ways of teaching and practices that work best for us.
I am not talking about changing the Dharma but adapting its forms, as they must always be adapted so the Dharma may thrive in a new place and time. Buddhist emphasis on impermanence (anicca in Pali) and insubstantiality (anatta, shunyata) allows and indeed obliges this adaptability The writings of the thirteenth—century Japanese Zen master Dogen are so insightful because he challenged old metaphors that had gone stale by taking advantage of the creative possibilities of the Japanese language. Does the challenge of modernity require anything less from us? Buddhism can provide what the modern world most needs: the spiritual message that may yet awaken us to who we are and vhy we as a species have such a penchant for making ourselves unhappy. For that message to have its full impact, however, the Dharma must find new modes of expression that speak more directly to us, including those who may not be much interested in Asian cultures.When transplanting an exotic species into a new environment, it may be helpful to bring some of the original soil entwined with the roots. Eventually, however, the plant must become able to root itself in new ground…
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