[Buddha-l] Dharmapala
Dan Lusthaus
vasubandhu at earthlink.net
Fri Jul 16 16:05:55 MDT 2010
Some short comments on the subject of the story of King Duṭṭhagāmaṇī in the
Mahāvaṃsa.
First, so far I have primarily discussed the material in just a few pages of
the much longer essay by Stephen Jenkins in the Buddhist Warfare, my point
being nothing more than that there are things in this book important to
consider, however one decides to think about them. Jenkins essay is about
fifteen pages long, and we have only touched on some of what he discusses in
three of those pages. We haven't even broached the main subject of his essay
which is entitled "Making Merit through Warfare and Torture According to the
_Ārya-Bodhisattva-gocara-upāyaviṣaya-vikurvaṇa-nirdeśa Sūtra_" -- i.e., not
just condoning but actually "making merit" through warfare and torture. That
the thinking and rhetoric discussed in this sutra is echoed by actual
Buddhist warfare and mass slaughters as documented in other essays in the
book is a matter of serious concern.
Still in those early pages of the Jenkins essay, he writes, referring to
Michael Zimmermann's study of the Sanskrit version of the title sutra and
its Chinese translations:
"Zimmermann notes that the king is described as ruling according to dharma,
even though he is also seen as dangerously violent. This illustrates the
usual Buddhist attitude of ambiguity toward kings. Āśoka, according to
Buddhist legend, slaughtered 18,000 Jains, among other atrocities, well
after he became 'Dharma-Āśoka.' Some note that he remounces such violence
after this pogrom tales the life of his own brother; nevertheless, Āśoka
continues to commit horrible acts of violence even after this episode. In
the literary accounts, dangerous Buddhist kings have a disturbing tendency
for mass violence against non-Buddhists. The Buddhist historian Tāranātha
records, for instance, that the great King Harṣa trapped and burned alive
'12,000 experts of the doctrine of the mlecchas [foreigners].' " (p. 63)
The King Duṭṭhagāmaṇī story gets discussed in passing in another essay in
Buddhist Warfare, by Daniel Kent, entitled "Onward Buddhist Soldiers:
Preaching to the Sri Lankan Army." It comes up because it is one of the
preferred topics for sermons that monks deliver to soldiers. Kent's essay is
quite good, taking more of an anthropological field-work approach than a
textual approach; i.e., interviewing people (monks, soldiers, etc.),
observing events, etc. It is sufficiently even-handed, and conversant with
the traditional and modern secondary literature that Lance would likely
approve. He begins in modern Sri Lanka with a monk named
Ānandavaṃsa preaching to group of battleworn soldiers in a temple called
Bogahayāya in the city of Mihintale.
He segues into "The war dead, physically absent from the sermon at the
temple, call to mind the
Yodhājīvasutta..." (Samyutta 42.3) in which a warrior asks the Buddha three
times whether it is possible for soldiers to go to heaven. On the third
asking (afraid his head might split? or do we take the admonition literally
that that only happens to those who refuse to reply to a Tathagata?), he
says no way, since "those who die on the battlefield are inevitably overcome
with hatred and pain and are born, according to those feelings, in a hell
realm." (Kent, p. 158).
Kent asks: "In an economy ravaged by a quarter century of civil war, there
are few employment opportunities; most soldiers come from poor families to
fight and kill for raṭa, jātiya, and āgama: the country, nation, and
religion. Are they doomed to hell for their choice of occupation?" (ibid)
While remaining firm that "Buddhism does not condone war" he endeavors to
unpack the "...but" that necessarily qualifies that, ostensibly in terms of
how monks preach to soldiers, but delving into related issues that help shed
light. He summarizes and quickly dismisses Tessa Bartholomeuz's attempt to
account for Sri Lankan Buddhist war through "just war" theory, agreeing with
Rupert Gethin that this is neither the way Sri Lankan Buddhists think about
things, nor adequate as an explanation for what they do think or do. Rather
the crucial issue is karma, and thus a matter of cetanā is understood. Using
his interview/anthro approach he interviews numerous monks and soldiers, to
the effect that there is no uniformity of opinion either between monks or
between soldiers, about how to apply or understand the key terms and
concepts.
"Soldiers and monks may be united in their use of cetanā and karma to
evaluate the actions of a soldier on the battlefield, but disagreements are
also very common among monks and soldiers regarding cetanā and the karmic
consequences of acts of killing. Of the twenty monks interviewed over the
course of my research, eleven believed that firing a weapon on the
battlefield produced negative karma; nine believed it did not. Soldiers were
also split in their assessments. Of the fifty-eight soldiers interviewed at
the Sixth Śrī Lankan Light Infantry (SLLI) camp in Mihindale, thirty-three
believed that negative karma did not occur when they fired their weapons at
the enemy, while twenty-five believed it did occur. While each of these
soldiers agreed that intention determines the karmic effects of particular
actions, they disagreed on whether it was possible to fire their weapons
with a positive intention." (p. 165)
As one soldier explains: "Soldiers don't shoot the enemy out of personal
anger. If they shoot they do so for the common good. This war is on behalf
of the country, people, religion, region, and motherland. It would be
negative karma to shoot one's neighbor over a land conflict, but the
intention here is a good one." (pp. 164-5)
The monks recognize that preaching that killing is a sin to soldiers will
only endanger them. So how do they decide what to preach? One says:
"When I go to preach to a group of soldiers, I preach in the necessary way
to them. I preach about the greatness of King Duṭugāmuṇu. Each occasion
calls for a timely sermon. Each occasion has an appropriate sermon." (p.
166)
This monk, ven. Vimaladhajja, explains further "that stories of Duṭugāmuṇu
[ = Duṭṭhagāmaṇī] the second-century BCE Sinhalese king who conquered the
ancient capital of Anurādhapura from the South Indian king Eḷāra, are the
most appropriate for soldiers. Duṭugāmuṇu, whose name literally means
"Gāmuṇu the Fierce," is said to have led his armies carrying a spear
festooned with a relic of the Buddha. [In a note Kent cites Gethin to the
effect that the word translated as "spear", kunta, "probably referred to a
banner and not to a weapon at all." p. 175 n.7) Am I the only one for whom
this evokes images of Constantine? Kent then fills in some story details
already discussed by Lance and Artur, including Duṭṭhagāmaṇī being told that
he is only responsible for killing one-and-a-half "human beings," "one who
had taken the five precepts and another who had taken refuge in the triple
gem." – pace Lance, like Artur I take this as claiming that only Buddhists
are "human" in the sense of makinig one responsible for their death if one
kills them, so killing non-Buddhists is like killing animals; the king is
not encouraged to feel guilty about killing the "cattle," on the contrary
the dehumanization is made to alleviate his guilt.] The Mahāvaṃsa records
that, after his death, Duṭugāmuṇu was reborn in heaven to await rebirth as
the chief disciple of the future Buddha Mettaya (Maitreya). Duṭugāmuṇu is
said to have explained his motives, declaring, 'Not for the joy of
sovereignty is this toil of mine, my striving [has been] ever to establish
the doctrine of the Sambuddha.'" (pp. 166-7)
So grab your AK-47s and wipe out a regiment in the name of the Sambuddha,
and not only will you not go to hell, you will not only go to a heaven, but
could get to be Maitreya's right-hand man (not sure anyone is born female in
Tusita).
For the rest, read the book.
Dan
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