Crisis and Opportunity—Can
Theravada Buddhism Meet the Challenge?
Buddhistdoor International Buddhistdoor
View 2015-03-20
The Buddhist sangha is perhaps the longest-lived
institution in world history. It has diffused across time and space
over a period of more than 2,500 years. It has traversed the globe
through diverse, culturally adaptable communities that betray a
clear (if not always successful) attempt to maintain continuity
with traditions transmitted millennia ago. More Vinaya lineages and
doctrinal schools have died out than those that are extant, but the
Theravada, Mahayana, and Vajrayana have all survived in some form
or another.
Like so many religious traditions, the greatest
threat to one of these vehicles, the Theravada, comes from within.
Theravada Buddhism as a whole is facing nothing less than a crisis,
and it is critical to study how solutions can be mobilized. Already
in South and Southeast Asia, serious questions about the Theravada
sangha’s moral and social authority are being debated.
This dramatic assertion comes from none other than
the British Theravada monk Ajahn Brahm and Indologist Richard
Gombrich, who came to The University of Hong Kong to share a
dialogue about this issue on 11 March. They come from fundamentally
different positions—a non-Buddhist who is still pro-Buddhist,
Gombrich believes that there is no longer any significant
difference between monks and laypeople in their potential to be
ethical and liberated. Ajahn Brahm still believes that monasticism
provides a vehicle for inspiration and moral restraint, and offers
more potential for meditators to achieve the dhyanas (with
which Gombrich disagrees). However, both agree that there are three
major problems plaguing the sangha: nationalism, sexism, and a lack
of education in critical thinking. These problems all contribute to
a long-term malaise in Theravada-dominated countries:
self-inflicted irrelevance.
Nationalism arose across Asia as one of the
strongest ideological weapons against European imperialism in the
previous three centuries. But this was a poisoned chalice, for
defining a national identity against European colonizers required
the exclusion of others that didn’t fit this identity. As a result,
there are few sanghas in countries dominated by Theravada Buddhists
that aren’t somehow involved in legitimizing nationalism and
racism. The most prominent victims of these campaigns have been the
Tamils of Sri Lanka and the Muslim minorities of Thailand and
Myanmar. Gombrich observes drily that many monks in Myanmar and
Thailand distrust even each other, and do not accept the other’s
lineage as being legitimate. Where the sangha is involved in
violence, there will be a slow but sure decline in trust invested
by laypeople, especially now that these local incidents are
broadcast around the world via satellite and the
Internet.
Gender discrimination is taken for granted in
conservative sangha circles, particularly in Thailand, which has
been the epicenter of several high-profile scandals and fissures
between higher authorities and liberal-minded monks. Ajahn Brahm
has been a prominent player in this debate: “Theravada needs more
women to literally save its life. Some say that the Buddha warned
his dispensation would be shortened to 500 years with women’s
involvement [Cullavagga X]. I say that without women,
Buddhism might not last more than 50,” he declares. But at least in
Thailand, the problem is even more deeply rooted. The
“institutionalized phobia of women” is extreme, Gombrich observes,
as monks are forbidden to touch even female infants or animals, and
cannot accept gifts from the hands of women. As more women demand
participation and say in the Buddhist religion, these customs seem
ever more outdated and in urgent need of a rethink.
The third factor, a lack of critical thinking, is
fatal because it cripples the capacity to ask questions about the
casual indulgence of nationalism and sexism, and the breaking of
Vinaya rules. Traditionally the sangha has been the sole preserver
of Buddhist knowledge, and therefore the source of authority and
guidance. But it has lost this exclusive role of preservation
thanks to the democratizing powers of the Internet, universities,
and private organizations digitizing the Buddhist texts for
posterity. The sangha, as a whole, needs to reconfigure its
relationship to wider society so that it can continue to be a
relevant example and respected custodian of the Buddha’s
teachings.
Thinking of solutions is not easy, but the spirit
behind them is simple: the sangha needs to embrace opportunities to
be more educated. It needs to come to terms with what contemporary
people expect monks and nuns to be. “It is not bad karma to
criticize monks, which for some reason is a common excuse to
silence complaints,” says Ajahn Brahm. Criticism from laypeople has
always kept the monks in check because if the monks continued to
behave badly, the lay donors of the day—merchants, caravan traders,
kings, housewives—simply withdrew their support. The Vinaya was
created because of laypeople that complained about badly
behaved monks.
To address the problem of sexism and institutional
gynophobia, Ajahn Brahm suggests that monks start studying why
Buddhist societies with a high ratio of female monastic
participation are flourishing: Taiwan, for example. Furthermore,
Thai monks should look to the nuns in northern Thailand for
exemplary models of practice. Although excluded and discriminated
against by the official Buddhist hierarchy, their communities
revere them because of their simplicity and austere lifestyle.
Their pure ideals, true to the Buddha’s original vision of the
mendicant life, will eventually embarrass their critics into
meeting their standards.
In terms of education, monastic institutions should
isolate and identify virtues that teachers think novices should
cultivate: open-mindedness, intellectual honesty, restraint,
meditative calm—and structure the curriculum around the pursuit of
those virtues. Gombrich suggests travel as a solution, although it
is difficult to implement for all monks: “All monks should spend a
year in a culturally different country with an institutionally
different monastery,” he declares. These foreign exchanges mean
radical exposure to different cultures and would open the worlds of
young Theravada monks. Again, this is only a start, but more
contact with people of other religions and life choices in safe,
controlled environments might also give them a more international,
cosmopolitan understanding of monastic identity.
The Theravada sangha is in crisis around the world, but from crisis
comes opportunity. Regeneration and reformation are a continuous
process: the sangha will never be completely pure, and problems
will never be fully resolved. But this is not an excuse for not
trying something. For the sake of public trust in the relevance of
the most enduring institution in history, we must try
something.