War!! How Should a Buddhist Confront WAR?

The Buddha as peacemaker

The Buddha himself not only verbally addressed this question, but also personally intervened more than once between opposing armies to prevent war (though not always successfully). Not only are the historical Buddha’s teachings a model for his followers, but his actions, too, should be considered worthy of consideration and emulation.

The first historical example concerns the waters of the Rohiṇī River. This is recorded in the Dhammapada and in the Samyutta Nikāya’s Paṭhama Rohiṇī Sutta (SN 3.13). The Buddha’s own clan, the Śakyas of Kapilavatthu, and their neighbors, the Koliyas of Devadaha, were about to go to war during a drought over irrigation rights to the Rohiṇī River. This river formed the boundary between their territories. The Buddha is said to have placed himself between the two armies, composed of princes, asking them what they were fighting over. When they told him the dispute was over water, the Buddha pointed out the absurdity of sacrificing the lives of princes (of immeasurable value) for something as trivial and impermanent as water.

The Buddha’s reasoning served to cool their tempers, and both sides abandoned the war. Thus, the conflict was averted without bloodshed. This is perhaps the most famous example of the Buddha acting as a peacemaker. The caveat, however, is that the Buddha’s intervention took place only after he had first resolved his deepseated concerns about the meaning of old age, sickness and death. It suggests, though does not prove, that “self-understanding” must proceed, or at least be an important part of, concern for others.

No doubt, this is a particularly vexing point for young people who may be faced with the prospect of entering military service, especially if facing involuntary conscription. In short, can one truly be concerned about the wellbeing of others without being concerned about understanding the nature of one’s self?

Additionally, this incident has a further meaning, one that is concerned with the manner in which the Buddha understood his peacekeeping role. He did not try to stop the war on the basis of what, strictly speaking, would be considered Buddhist principles. That is to say, he neither told the princes in the opposing armies that killing was wrong, nor did he allude to the negative karma that would result from killing. Instead, he appealed to what might be termed as “common sense” or simply self-preservation by pointing out that the value of princes was far greater than that of water. This can be said to be an example of a long-held Buddhist tenet: the employment of “skillful means.” (Skt: upāya-kauśalya; Pali: upāya-kosalla)

A second, unsuccessful attempt by the Buddha to stop a war, is recorded in the Dhammapada (DhA I.355–357). This time, the Buddha attempted to stop the destruction of the Śakyans, his own people. The background to this attempt concerns King Pasenadi of Kosala, who had married what he believed to be a Śakya princess.

As a young adult, Kosala’s Prince Viḍūḍabha learned that his mother was not of full noble Śakya lineage. Instead, the Śakyans, thinking themselves superior to the Kosalans, had tricked his father the King into marrying a woman of lower birth. On learning this, the Prince felt humiliated and vowed that he would one day extract revenge on the Śakya clan for their arrogance.

After ascending the throne of Kosala, Viḍūḍabha raised an army to destroy Kapilavatthu. On three separate occasions, when Viḍūḍabha was nearing Kapilavatthu with his army, the Buddha personally intervened. He did so by sitting under a tree beside the road Viḍūḍabha’s army was taking to attack Kapilavatthu. The tree the Buddha chose to sit under was dead and withered, despite many shady trees being nearby.

Upon seeing him, Viḍūḍabha asked the Buddha why he was sitting under a tree with no shade? The Buddha replied: “Shade is dear to one’s own family.” The symbolic meaning of this statement was that even the dead shade of his own kin was dearer to him than cool shade elsewhere. Shamed by his answer, Viḍūḍabha turned his army back on three occasions.

However, on Viḍūḍabha’s fourth attempt, the Buddha chose not to intervene. Instead, he “stepped aside” allowing fate and karma to run its course. As a result Viḍūḍabha is said to have entered Kapilavatthu and massacred the Śakyans. Some accounts say he slaughtered all of them while others suggest a few survived and fled.

When asked why he had stepped aside, the Buddha replied: “The fruition of karma must now take its course,” and had therefore ended his intervention. In other words, the Buddha, knowing the Śakyans were in the wrong, recognized that while his earlier interventions had delayed their fate, in the end, he could not prevent the karmic consequences of their arrogance.

The Buddha’s actions revealed that even a Buddha cannot “override” the causal laws of the universe (dhammaniyāmatā), for he is but a discoverer and teacher of Dharma, not a divine controller. As verse 276 of the Dhammapada notes: “You yourselves must strive; the Tathāgatas only show the way.” In this case, when the Śakyas’ collective karma matured, even perfect compassion could not save them without violating the moral structure of reality as the Buddha understood it.

The Buddha’s first three interventions delayed the destruction of his countrymen and may also be considered an expression of skillful means. Nevertheless, his continued interference only served to postpone the inevitable while possibly increasing the karmic debt and resultant suffering.

The Buddha’s decision to step aside was clearly not a sign of indifference, but of profound wisdom—an expression of compassion guided by insight into the moral structure of existence. Furthermore, for the Buddha to have taken sides would have contradicted the impartial compassion (appamāṇa karuṇā) that defines Buddhahood. By allowing the karmic process to unfold, he treated all beings equally as subject to their own causes and results.

The destruction of the Śakyas is a dramatic example of the degree to which detachment is expected of a Buddhist, including detachment not only from self, but family and nation as well, truly the highest form of renunciation. In light of this, the question must be asked of those who identify themselves as Buddhists whether they are willing to “step aside,” knowing that their families, fellow countrymen and even nation might be destroyed as a result? Surely, if there was ever a case for employing violence in defense of those one holds dear, this was it. Nevertheless, the Buddha did not resort to violence, instead, he “stepped aside.” How many of us are prepared to do likewise?

Though less dramatic than the two preceeding stories, a third relevant example is found in the Mahāparinibbāna Sutta (DN 16). It describes an event in connection with King Ajātasattu of Magadha’s plan to attack the Vajjians. Ajātasattu sent one of his ministers by the name of Vassakāra to ask the Buddha whether the Vajjians could be defeated. The Buddha replied, “So long, Vassakāra, as the Vajjians hold regular assemblies, meet in concord, honor their traditions, respect their elders, and protect their women and shrines, they will prosper and not decline.” The Buddha had effectively warned Ajātasattu that he could not defeat the Vajjians so long as they upheld these principles.

All three of these examples offer dramatic proof that the Buddha was willing to intervene in secular affairs, something we would today identify as the actions of a “social activist.” It also offers proof that Buddhism, based on the teachings and actions of the Buddha, has, from its inception, been “socially engaged” even if not always successfully so. Buddhism, too, has its self-imposed, Dharma-informed limits.

Compassion and control: Aśoka the Great

Those who seek to justify Buddhist use of violence, including war, often invoke Mauryan king Aśoka the Great (c. 304–232 BC) to prove their point. Buddhists have long regarded Aśoka as an ideal ruler due to his adoption of Buddhism as a religion of peace, in remorse for having killed more than 100,000 enemy soldiers in the course of expanding his empire.

Buddhists have traditionally pointed out that despite his moral rule, Aśoka nevertheless maintained an army for the defense of the empire even as he sought to govern through moral and diplomatic means rather than military conquest. This historical example is used to show that, while regrettable, armies and wars are still necessary to ensure the safety of one’s country and its people.

What Aśoka’s admirers fail to point out, however, is that, his remorse notwithstanding, Aśoka failed to return freedom and independence to the disparate peoples of his empire. As a number of scholars have noted, for Aśoka the Dharma was essentially a political ideology that was invoked to knit together a vast and diverse empire. While Aśoka personally conquered only one country militarily, Kalinga, he ruled over dozens that had been forcibly incorporated into his empire by his predecessors. As recently as the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991, we see that even today captive peoples seek the freedom to determine their own destinies when given the opportunity.

In Buddhist history it was Aśoka who first used the Dharma as an instrument to promote not only religious and political unity but enhance control over his empire. And once the paradigm of using the Dharma to control an empire was established, we see it used over and over again by rulers throughout Asia down to the present.

To give but one example, during the Tang dynasty, General An Lushan (703–57) led a rebellion that devastated China between 755 and 763. At the time, Amoghavajra (705–74), a tantric master, conducted tantric rituals explicitly intended to bring death, disaster and disease to An Lushan’s rebel army. Amoghavajra conducted his rituals against An Lushan while remaining in Chang’an even after it was occupied in 756 and while the Tang dynasty crown prince and Emperor Xuanzong (685–762) had retreated to Sichuan.

The rebellion was justified, at least to some degree, by the fact that Chang’an, the capital, had become a center of luxury and corruption. Nevertheless, the rebellion was successfully crushed and in gratitude for Amoghavajrya’s assistance, esoteric Buddhism was chosen to become the official state Buddhist sect supported by the Tang imperium.

It was in this way that “Imperial Buddhism” was born in China, complete with state funding and backing for writing scriptures, as well as constructing monasteries and temples. In return, Amoghavajra’s disciples conducted ceremonies dedicated to the benefit of the state and emperor. Emperor Suzong (711–62) , Xuanzong’s successor, who was annointed a cakravartin, “he who turns the wheel (of Dharma).” In other words, Emperor Suzong was recognized as an ideal Buddhist monarch in the style of King Aśoka.

Today, the great majority of the world’s Buddhists would no doubt reject the idea that Buddhist rituals should be aimed at bringing death, disaster and disease to anyone for any reason. Nor, with the possible exception of some Thai Buddhists, would they assert that the creation of “Imperial Buddhism” was a worthy goal of their faith. That said, the acquisition of state wealth and its ruler’s backing has been, and remains, an attractive prospect for all of the world’s major religions.

An American Buddhist military chaplain

An echo of this attraction can be seen as recently as the US invasion of Iraq in 2003. In this war, we find a Buddhist priest appointed as a commissioned officer and military chaplain by the American government. Stationed at Camp Taji in Iraq, Lt. (now Captain) Thomas Dyer, was the first Zen Buddhist chaplain in the US Army. While serving with the 278th Armored Cavalry Regiment, Lt. Dyer provided meditation instruction to soldiers stationed at Camp Taji, a base that came under frequent attack by Iraqi opposition forces.

Addressing soldiers meditating on YouTube, Dyer would explain the relationship of Zen to Buddhism as follows:

Primarily Buddhism is a methodology of transforming the mind. The mind has flux in it or movement, past and future fantasy, which causes us not to interact deeply with life. So Buddhism has a methodology, a teaching and a practice of meditation to help one concentrate in the present moment to experience reality as it is. . . . Zen practice is to be awake in the present moment both in sitting and then walking throughout the day. So the idea is that enlightenment will come from just being purely aware of the present moment in the present moment.

Today, it is almost universally acknowledged that the US invasion of Iraq was based on totally false pretenses. Saddam Hussein (1937–2006) had no weapons of mass destruction, nor did he have any connection to the terrorists who attacked the Twin Towers in New York City. In short, Iraq presented no threat to the peace and security of the US.

Nevertheless, when Lt. Dyer taught soldiers prior to going into battle to be “purely aware of the present moment,” he was assisting the US Army in creating a very desirable state of mind. Namely, a state of mind in which soldiers were freed from questions of individual moral choice or responsibility even as they unjustly killed those Iraqis whom they had been ordered to regard as their enemy. Lt. Dyer said nothing about the basic Buddhist precept to abstain from killing.

On the one hand, it is possible to argue that the myriad of Buddhist sutras do not speak with a single voice when it comes to either the use of violence or even war. For example, the Mahāyāna Upāyakauśalya Sutra that purports to explain the meaning of “skillful means” includes a section in which the Buddha, while yet a bodhisattva in a previous lifetime, killed a robber intending to rob and kill the unsuspecting passengers of a ship he captained. This episode later emerged as one of the best known endorsements for killing in East Asian Buddhism: “killing one in order to save many.”

Given examples like this, it must be admitted there is no single Buddhist sutra that can provide a clear and unequivocal answer to the question of Buddhist participation in war, especially those wars claimed to be defensive in nature.

So, what are we to do, debate this issue endlessly with no conclusion possible? In seeking to address this difficult question I suggest that if we are willing to “think outside of the box” there is indeed an answer, one that is ultimately Buddhist in nature.

A military man speaks

I believe the answer begins with a man named Smedley Darlington Butler (1881–1940), an American Major General in the United States Marine Corps. During his 34-year military career, Butler fought in the Philippine-American War (1899–1902), the Boxer Rebellion (1899–1901), the Mexican Revolution (1910–20), World War One (1914–18), and the Banana Wars (1898–1934). At the time of his death, Butler was the most decorated Marine in US military history, having received two Medals of Honor.

Needless to say, Butler was not a Buddhist, but no one can deny that when it came to a discussion of war he knew from personal experience what he was talking about. Reflecting on his military career in War is a Racket (1935), Butler said:

I spent 33 years and four months in active military service and during that period I spent most of my time as a high class muscle man for Big Business, for Wall Street and the bankers. In short, I was a racketeer; a gangster for capitalism.

I helped make Mexico and especially Tampico safe for American oil interests in 1914. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City Bank boys to collect revenues in. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefit of Wall Street. I helped purify Nicaragua for the International Banking House of Brown Brothers in 1902–1912.

I brought light to the Dominican Republic for the American sugar interests in 1916. I helped make Honduras right for the American fruit companies in 1903. In China in 1927 I helped see to it that Standard Oil went on its way unmolested. Looking back on it, I might have given Al Capone a few hints. The best he could do was to operate his racket in three districts. I operated on three continents.

So what do Butler’s words about war have to do with Buddhism, anything? I submit they tell us the fundamental truth about warfare, especially those wars fought following the spread of global colonialism in the 15th century and lasting to the present day. That is to say, modern warfare, if not warfare from long ago, is fundamentally based on just one concept or goal: greed.

The role of greed

Greed (Pali: lobha; Sanskrit: rāga), of course, is universally regarded in all Buddhist traditions as one of the Three Poisons (akusala-mūla, “roots of unwholesomeness”), the other two being Hatred or Aversion (dosa; dveṣa) and Delusion or Ignorance (moha; avidyā). Together they are considered the fundamental causes of all suffering (dukkha) and the root of saṃsāric existence across every orthodox Buddhist school.

Given this, the question becomes, how can, why should, any Buddhist, cleric or lay, participate in an activity that is so clearly based on greed, not to mention hatred of the enemy, especially when modern weaponry makes it possible to destroy myriads of one’s fellow human beings? As for those Buddhists who have interpreted the Buddha’s words to claim it is possible to kill without aversion or hatred of the enemy, they clearly have never been on the battlefield, in a situation in which it is kill or be killed.

There will, of course, be those who will respond by pointing out that this doesn’t eliminate the possibility of purely defensive wars based on protecting one’s loved ones including one’s country and fellow citizens. In response, I would ask: please show me an example in the modern age of such a purely defensive war?

At least as a theoretical construct, the possibility of a purely defensive war cannot be denied. Yet, when looking at modern warfare, long fought by a “Defense Department” in the case of the US, contemporary wars are always justified as being in the “national interest.” Aren’t the words “national interest” but a fig leaf used to describe national aggrandizement: greed for oil, natural resources, increased corporate profits, land, and worse?

If Buddhists were simply to agree not to support or participate in wars based on greed, no matter how cleverly disguised they are as being defensive in nature or in the national interest, Buddhist participation in modern warfare would, I suggest, drop to nearly zero.

Of course, the question remains of just who will determine whether a particular war is based on greed or is purely defensive in nature? Fortunately, no one, not even someone like the Dalai Lama, can claim to speak for all Buddhists. At the end of the day, only we, the Buddhist followers, can answer this question!

The role of dependent origination

Fortunately, Buddhists have been given a wonderful tool to help resolve this question: the doctrine of dependent origination (Pali: paṭicca-samuppāda; Sanskrit: pratītya-samutpāda). Simply stated, dependent origination is the law of conditionality, meaning that all phenomena arise in dependence upon causes and conditions. Therefore, nothing exists independently or permanently.

Applied to this situation, dependent origination requires Buddhists to look carefully, very carefully, at the causes of conflict on the part of all parties involved. Are the parties genuinely and solely concerned with defending themselves and those around them, or, as in the case of politically powerful weapons manufacturers, are they secretly hoping to enhance their profits still further from yet more warfare? Do they hope to enhance their profits even while knowing this means sacrificing the lives of the flower of their youth not to mention the youth of the enemy?

Closely examining the causes of conflict has the added attraction that it is entirely consistent with the actions of the Buddha himself. When he realized that his countrymen were in the wrong and that they had provoked the war by their wrong actions, the Buddha is said to have stepped aside, refusing to defend even his own countrymen, thereby allowing their destruction. One can easily imagine that the Buddha thought long and hard before responding in this way. Can his followers be any less attentive to determining the causes and conditions of a particular conflict?

Granted, there may be conflicts that are, at least for one of the parties, truly defensive in nature. In that case, Buddhists may decide that out of compassion for the victims of aggression, they will employ violence in order to aid them.

But as Butler, among many others, has revealed, modern warfare, at the very least, is nearly always based on greed, often on the part of all parties to the conflict. In cases like these, there is only one authentically Buddhist response, non-participation at the very least if not active, but non-violent, opposition to the massive destruction that is an inevitable part of modern warfare, most especially in the nuclear age.

Finally, whatever passages there are in Buddhist scriptures allowing for the taking of life under certain circumstances, the basic Buddhist position concerning violence remains unchanged. This is exemplified by the first of the five lay precepts requiring abstinence from the destruction of life. The Anguttara Nikaya states: “Here, a disciple, having abandoned the destruction of life, abstains from the destruction of life. With the rod and weapon laid aside, conscientious and kindly, he dwells compassionate toward all living beings.”

The choice that Buddhists face

Buddhists are now faced with a serious choice. While all of the world’s major religions claim to stand for peace, when called upon to do so, typically by their country’s government, they all justify their participation in war on the basis of such doctrines as holy war, just war, jihad, and, more recently in Gaza, “Remember what Amalek did to you.”

Historically, Buddhists have been but little different, employing doctrines like “defending the Dharma,” “killing one in order to save many,” and “compassionate killing,” as well as tantric rituals, to support their participation in warfare.

The question Buddhists now face is whether, especially in the face of the mass slaughter that is contemporary warfare, based on greed as it almost always is, will they continue to participate in warfare or, instead, vow to follow in the footsteps of the Buddha. That is to say, will they instead work tirelessly, yet nonviolently, for peace even when unsuccessful, or even at the expense of their own country, family or themselves?  The choice is yours.

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