About this Event
Presented on September 30, 2022 by Professor Jay L. Garfield, this keynote is part of the academic workshop, Buddhist Ethics 3.0: In Memory of Michael Jerryson (1974-2021).
To know more about this event, go to the Keynote page: Buddhism and Nonviolence in the Contemporary World.
This event was made possible by by the generous support of The Robert H. N. Ho Family Foundation, in collaboration with the Journal of Buddhist Ethics.
Q&A
I agree with what you have said, but question whether Socially Engaged Buddhists have actually gone as far, with some exceptions. Although you mention Kropotkin I don’t think that Socially Engaged Buddhists have engaged all that much with radical thought, again, with some exceptions. There are some examples of Buddhist thought engaging with radical thought in the early twentieth century, especially in places like China and Japan, but some of that history has been lost. And I hope that with some work some these earlier Buddhist discussions can be brought to light, because sometimes they’re forgotten that they’re there has been radical Buddhism for 100 years, if not more.
I agree with you completely. I would say that the Engaged Buddhists who really walked down this road are Sulak Sivaraksa and Bernie Glassman. But you are right. I am trying to put a thumb in the back of Engaged Buddhists and say, “Go a little farther!” His Holiness, the Dalai Lama, in that wonderful book, Ethics for a New Millennium, walks this walk. But the dialogue between Buddhism and anarcho-syndicalism is still waiting to happen, and I want that one to happen. – Jay L. Garfield
Are you suggesting that early Buddhism, beginning with the founder, had an understanding of structural violence or is this something that developed later? A second question, bringing to mind Dr. Martin Luther King’s statement of some years ago that, “the United States is the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today.” Could you speak to this issue as well?
The first question is one I want to answer with a little delicacy and, as I said, the very term “structural violence” was introduced by Thich Nhat Hanh a few decades ago. I think that, by introducing the term, he is also introducing a concept that was to be found in early Buddhist texts. Indeed, I also think it’s true that most early Buddhist philosophers didn’t have a social vision. Nāgārjuna did. You look at Ratnavalī and it’s there, but not everybody in early Buddhism was explicit in the same way.
What I am saying here: the ethical principles and the analysis of suffering–the analysis of its causes, the analysis of the alleviation of its causes, and the analysis of the path–that is presented in early Buddhism correctly provides the template for the diagnosis and the way to address structural violence. I’m not interested here in a kind of factual history of what very earliest stratum of Buddhism said about society. That’s not my task. That’s an interesting task, but that’s not my task. My task is asking where those ideas take us when we look at sources of suffering today, and alleviation of suffering today. It’s a philosophical, not a philological or historical task in that sense.
To your second question: Martin Luther King’s analysis of the American contributions to structural violence are right on target. I could have talked about King, but I spoke primarily about contemporary Buddhist thinkers in this context. – Jay L. Garfield
What I am saying here: the ethical principles and the analysis of suffering–the analysis of its causes, the analysis of the alleviation of its causes, and the analysis of the path–that is presented in early Buddhism correctly provides the template for the diagnosis and the way to address structural violence. I’m not interested here in a kind of factual history of what very earliest stratum of Buddhism said about society. That’s not my task. That’s an interesting task, but that’s not my task. My task is asking where those ideas take us when we look at sources of suffering today, and alleviation of suffering today. It’s a philosophical, not a philological or historical task in that sense.
To your second question: Martin Luther King’s analysis of the American contributions to structural violence are right on target. I could have talked about King, but I spoke primarily about contemporary Buddhist thinkers in this context. – Jay L. Garfield
Thinking through of the whole workshop today, I noticed we have been talking about discontinuing systems with regard to violence against animals, for example, and I feel like there is overlap with similar conversations happening in fields discussing the abolition of the military and prison industrial complex, and the topic of inducing a moral imagination. In that connection, what are some of the generative ways to induce a moral imagination? How to cultivate impetus for this kind of revolution, and discontinue systems of violence?
I think that this requires a lot of contemplative work, and a lot of dialogue. We need to hone our attention to our own affective sets, to our interdependence with others and with the natural world, and to the ways that individual and collective psychopathology shapes our daily lives and perceptions, and then work to see through those pathologies. This is hard work, and must be undertaken both on the individual and collective levels. – Jay L. Garfield
You say you want a revolution, and we all want to change the world. So, my question to you is about means and ends. There are some people who would say that we don’t really have much time anymore, that Buddhist patience is a virtue we really can’t afford. We need to act more, faster, and we have to be imaginative of in the kinds of actions we take. When you talk about revolution and anarcho-syndicalism, and Marx, and so on, I think about the different movements that have taken on these ideologies. Some of them are admirable, some less so. Think of Nelson Mandela, for example. Destruction of property was something that he endorsed in limited circumstances. Could you could speak further about means and ends? What would it take to be a Buddhist revolutionary, and where you draw the line if we think about ahimsa as being non-harm? Does this exclude the possibility, for example, of destruction of property?
I do take ahimsa very seriously. I don’t think you can attain ahimsa through violence, and I think Gandhi, Dr. King, the Dalai Lama, Sivaraksa, and Thich Nath Hanh are dead right about this: the absence of violence has to be psychological, not just physical. That’s really important. I think this because, for example, as in the case of the Buddhist virtue of patience (kshanti), patience does not imply an unwillingness to act, patience means controlling anger and controlling that dimension when acting. I think that whatever tactics we Buddhist revolutionaries use must to be tactics that are of a kind with the ideal society, the place we want these tactics to lead us to.
Does that mean that no eggs will get broken while the omelet is made? Probably not, but one wants to minimize that, otherwise you just recreate the same violent structures that you started with, and what’s the benefit? That doesn’t get us anywhere. I don’t think this is easy. It turns out that totally transforming the world and saving the planet is not easy. I agree. However, at this point we don’t have many choices; the chips are already all at the center of the table. So, we have to play the hand we’ve been given. The hand that we’ve been given is Buddhism–and it’s a pretty good hand–but it’s not guaranteed to win. If it doesn’t win, I don’t think anything will. – Jay L. Garfield
Does that mean that no eggs will get broken while the omelet is made? Probably not, but one wants to minimize that, otherwise you just recreate the same violent structures that you started with, and what’s the benefit? That doesn’t get us anywhere. I don’t think this is easy. It turns out that totally transforming the world and saving the planet is not easy. I agree. However, at this point we don’t have many choices; the chips are already all at the center of the table. So, we have to play the hand we’ve been given. The hand that we’ve been given is Buddhism–and it’s a pretty good hand–but it’s not guaranteed to win. If it doesn’t win, I don’t think anything will. – Jay L. Garfield
I think one of the crucial things your argument begins with echoed a general misinterpretation of the term *ahimsa* as ‘nonviolence.’ I think this misinterpretation has distorted discussions in Buddhist ethics. For instance, the Dalai Lama has recently pointed out that sometimes things that look like violence are actually ‘nonviolence.’ He includes military force, and things like that. Asanga would add in: bringing down wicked governments, stealing from thieves, and all action that violates the precepts. He points out that when you think in terms of *himsa* as ‘harm’, most harm is done with the genteel smiles of the elites and neglect–as you mention–and the kind of exploitation that is done accomplished through persuasion.
That’s right. There are people at this conference who have done important work explaining that difference, as well as clarifying the role of certain kinds of violence (or what we might think of as violence in the Buddhist world). I wouldn’t dream of trying to add anything to that. Just to say here that the moment you start deploying techniques we might think of as violence, you’d better be very, very careful. There must be discernment, the right affect, and the right motivation. – Jay L. Garfield
ONLINE – In my experience of 25 years of pragmatic anti-factory farming work, in those rare moments when I felt close enough to judge, it is a lack of the kind of moral imagination that the speaker is articulating that has most limited actual change. So, my question for Jay: What is your thinking on the role that diet plays in the revolution you’re talking about? For me, personally, veganism became crucial, given the dominance of factory farming. What is your thinking on this connection?
I think it’s really important. I think the kind of diets that we have grown to take as normal–in industrialized societies, especially, but really all over the world right now–don’t comport either with what’s humane or with what’s healthy for us, or with the continued existence of the ecosystem of the planet. So, I think that what we eat has become political. When late 20th century feminist writers and activists said the ‘personal was political,’ it gets more personal or more political all the time. That’s an important lesson that we’ve learned from feminist theory, but it’s *really* important. I think that the kind of revolutionary activity that I’m talking about is totalizing, just because we’re fighting a totalizing enemy. – Jay L. Garfield
I really loved your development of Shantideva’s point that anger arises out of falsely believing the individual (oneself) is the one who comes to harm, and how you used this to speak to the possibility of seeing systematic violence implicit in Shantideva’s critique of anger. Obviously, we can talk about love and compassion as potential motivations for ethical action, but I wonder about the motivating potential of anger. Since Shantideva also says that we *can* be angrey at the kleshas (the defilements or poisonous emotions and states), does this lead some kind of room for being angry at systems of violence?
I don’t think so, and I honestly think that that shloka (verse) really has to be read in careful context. Shantideva is not talking about giving up patience (S. kshanti) in favor of anger, since anger is a defilement (klesha). He’s basically just telling you: If you’ve got an enemy at all, it’s not the person against whom you’ve cultivated anger; If you have an enemy at all, it’s the kleshas. So, if anger is justified *at all,* it’s in that way and at that target. It is not a claim that you should get angry, that you should become angry. Shantideva is the person who really gives us the anatomy of how anger screws us up more than any other Buddhist thinker. So, that verse, I think, is easy to read out of context. – Jay L. Garfield
In response to your use of ‘moral imagination’, I thought of the Zizek line that “it’s easier to imagine an asteroid coming and destroying the world than the end of capitalism.” I find that line helpful because it reminds me of how limited our imagination is. Thinking of how Ambedkar–who you might draw on more–understands violence in modern society, although he doesn’t use the term structural violence, he has an incredibly nuanced, sophisticated account of violence, of politics, and of the Buddhist virtue of friendliness or loving-kindness (maitri). Ambedkar believed that maitri made Buddhist approaches different from Marxist approaches–especially around the question of violence. Also, he has a sophisticated analysis of non-harm (ahimsa) as a principle rather than a rule, and of the way law reinscribes violence.
You’re absolutely right about that, and the moment you said it, I thought: “Oh, shoot! How did I miss that?” I was just focused on other folks. And you’re right, Ambedkar deserves to be in this story. I love Ambedkar’s work. More proof of my vast imperfections. – Jay L. Garfield
ONLINE – A typical “Neo-Confucian” critique of Buddhism is that Buddhists do not have a theory of social reform or, in their terms, “managing what is under heaven.” For Neo-Confucians, social reform is the restoration of an ideal order (that used to exist), requiring people to extend their care for their intimate family members gradually to their neighbors, their community members, and eventually to everyone under heaven. This becomes their theory of care, with distinctions. It is very different from the version of social care that you’ve described. My question: Do you think that Buddhist moral phenomenology, especially the view of social care that you have neatly articulated, can respond to this frequent Neo-Confucian critique?
Yes, the answer is yes. But now let me say there’s a commentary on the answer. The commentary is this: You’re right that Confucians and Neo-Confucians critique Buddhists on this point–but they fundamentally disagree. One way to put the disagreement: when Buddhaghosa talks about the divine states (brahmaviharas), he distinguishes a ‘near enemy’ and a ‘far enemy’ for each one–pointing out that it is the near enemy that is the really dangerous one. What he has in mind is this: The near enemy is (1) really easy to slip into, and (2) feels like virtue and masquerades as virtue.
If we’re thinking about friendiness or loving kindness (maitri), which is the one that we’re really talking about here, the far enemy is being really mean and nasty and horrible to people, and everybody knows that’s a vice; but the near enemy is a kind of partial attachment, distinctly caring more about the people near to you, because you really like them, and because you’re related to them. Buddhaghosa’s point is what feels like a virtue, taking care of my kids, taking care of my spouse, being patriotic, is actually a vice. What the near enemy does is block the kind of even-handed approach to morality and the even distribution of care across the community. When the near enemy of maitri is valorized, you effectively create a kind of partiality, attachment, and egocentricity. That is the big, structural difference between the divine states (brahmavihārās) and their near enemies: the brahmaviharas are all non-egocentric, and together they create a non-egocentric moral vision.
Therefore, the Buddhist response to the Neo Confucian is: you found the egocentric equivalent of maitri. Congratulations. Then the Buddhist points out that’s the problem, not the solution. If you look around the world and look at what nationalism is doing, or you look at the way that people try to hoard wealth for their families, you begin to see the Buddhist critique. – Jay L. Garfield
If we’re thinking about friendiness or loving kindness (maitri), which is the one that we’re really talking about here, the far enemy is being really mean and nasty and horrible to people, and everybody knows that’s a vice; but the near enemy is a kind of partial attachment, distinctly caring more about the people near to you, because you really like them, and because you’re related to them. Buddhaghosa’s point is what feels like a virtue, taking care of my kids, taking care of my spouse, being patriotic, is actually a vice. What the near enemy does is block the kind of even-handed approach to morality and the even distribution of care across the community. When the near enemy of maitri is valorized, you effectively create a kind of partiality, attachment, and egocentricity. That is the big, structural difference between the divine states (brahmavihārās) and their near enemies: the brahmaviharas are all non-egocentric, and together they create a non-egocentric moral vision.
Therefore, the Buddhist response to the Neo Confucian is: you found the egocentric equivalent of maitri. Congratulations. Then the Buddhist points out that’s the problem, not the solution. If you look around the world and look at what nationalism is doing, or you look at the way that people try to hoard wealth for their families, you begin to see the Buddhist critique. – Jay L. Garfield
You said at some point that Buddhism is not just a neutral, renunciant tradition, and I took you to mean that Buddhism is relevant for the most pressing problems of our day. But renunciation is still an important theme in Buddhism, and it doesn’t just mean going off into sort of forest monastery. So, what do you think the appropriate role of renunciation is or letting go in its various forms? What role does that play in affecting the sort of changes that you’re talking about?
I think we have this long list of things one renounces, but the most important things one renounces are attraction, aversion, and the kind of views that conduce to primal confusion that, in turn, conditions attraction and aversion. Attraction, aversion, and primal confusion are all egocentric attitudes. The real thing one is renouncing is egocentricity, that sense of self, and centering the self.
Now, we could talk about renouncing other things. Like, I think you ought to renounce bank robbery. I think robbery is just a bad move. I think you ought to renounce far right politics. You ought to renounce all kinds of stuff like that. But the real root of renunciation, isn’t renouncing the world but *a particular version of the world*. You’re renouncing world centered on the ego, its poisons (attraction, aversion, confusion), that appear at the hub, for example, of the Buddhist ‘wheel of life.’
Attraction, aversion, and confusion–these power the whole thing and that never changes. Those are the defilements (kleshas), those are the pathologies. That’s what you want to renounce. And the annoying thing is that every one of those pathologies feels really good, feels like a virtue, and can masquerade as one if you think about it the right way. That’s what makes it so tricky. That’s why it’s so much like addiction. Renunciation means taking the needle out at some point. – Jay L. Garfield
Now, we could talk about renouncing other things. Like, I think you ought to renounce bank robbery. I think robbery is just a bad move. I think you ought to renounce far right politics. You ought to renounce all kinds of stuff like that. But the real root of renunciation, isn’t renouncing the world but *a particular version of the world*. You’re renouncing world centered on the ego, its poisons (attraction, aversion, confusion), that appear at the hub, for example, of the Buddhist ‘wheel of life.’
Attraction, aversion, and confusion–these power the whole thing and that never changes. Those are the defilements (kleshas), those are the pathologies. That’s what you want to renounce. And the annoying thing is that every one of those pathologies feels really good, feels like a virtue, and can masquerade as one if you think about it the right way. That’s what makes it so tricky. That’s why it’s so much like addiction. Renunciation means taking the needle out at some point. – Jay L. Garfield
ONLINE – Why are you confident that an analysis of suffering and an ethics of care that originally didn’t recognize the existence of structural violence, and wasn’t animated by a robust sociological imagination, provides a sound template for dealing with the social dynamics of institutions, structural forces, and collective violence?
That’s what my whole talk was about. One way to respond is to point that out is that I wasn’t the first person who thought to apply Buddhist understandings of suffering, care, and so on to society as a whole. Nagarjuna thought about this in the second century CE when he wrote the Ranavali. Thich Nhat Hanh, Sulak Sivaraksa, and Bhimrao Ambedkar thought about this. I’m not the only guy here.
A more important way to response is to point out that what Buddhism offers is an understanding of the human predicament as one that is saturated by suffering. Buddhism asserts that suffering can be understood–not just as evident suffering, but also as suffering due to change, and suffering due to pervasive conditioning. It gives us a diagnosis of that suffering rooted in confusion, attraction, and aversion. When you look at structural violence, that’s what it is. It is a system of suffering. It’s grounded in attraction and aversion, and what makes it go is pervasive confusion.
So, even if Siddhartha Gautama didn’t say, “listen, in a few thousand years, consumer capitalism is going to happen and this is what you want to do”, he did give us the tools to handle it and you use the tools that you’ve got. – Jay L. Garfield
A more important way to response is to point out that what Buddhism offers is an understanding of the human predicament as one that is saturated by suffering. Buddhism asserts that suffering can be understood–not just as evident suffering, but also as suffering due to change, and suffering due to pervasive conditioning. It gives us a diagnosis of that suffering rooted in confusion, attraction, and aversion. When you look at structural violence, that’s what it is. It is a system of suffering. It’s grounded in attraction and aversion, and what makes it go is pervasive confusion.
So, even if Siddhartha Gautama didn’t say, “listen, in a few thousand years, consumer capitalism is going to happen and this is what you want to do”, he did give us the tools to handle it and you use the tools that you’ve got. – Jay L. Garfield
I appreciate how you work with the 6 perfections (paramita) and the noble truths. These are great diagnostic tools. There’s another one in particularly that I am curious about and hope you might comment on it. Thich Nath Hanh has spoken endlessly about “interbeing,” and Joanna Macy, about “mutual causality”–both versions of paticcasamuppada. Do you feel that there is moral imperative within that concept? How would you see that relying on that as part of the equation? Would it lead us in some of the directions you’re talking about?
Pratityasamutpada was all over this lecture. When I was talking about the structure of structural violence, I’m talking about pratityasamutpada. And when I was talking about the recognition of non-egocentricity and of interdependence, that’s pratityasamutpada. Nagarjuna, in verse 40 chapter 24 of the Mulamadhyamakakarika, writes that: “whoever understands dependent origination, understands suffering, and its cause, and its alleviation, and the path.” Dependent origination, or pratityasamutpada, is the whole story. All of this is grounded in pratityasamutpada. There’s nothing else. Once his Holiness the Dalai Lama was asked if he could summarize Buddhism in one sentence. He said he could do better than that; he could summarize it in one word: pratityasamutpada. – Jay L. Garfield
My question arises from your earlier comment when you stated that anger does not play a positive role in Buddhist ethics. I think there can be a fruitful debate in Buddhist ethics between those who see a productive role for anger and those that see anger as truly poisonous, through and through. My research deals with Pure Land Buddhist attempts to reconcile and move past structural violence and discrimination within their own communities. In particular, mainstream Japanese Buddhist discrimination towards Buddhists who are seen as former outcasts. In this case, and in others, anger and sadness are both seen–if not good per se–as necessary for reconciliation. They are seen as a step in the process. I’m also bringing this back full circle to the introduction, because this is truth and reconciliation day. So, this is the question: is there a provisionally positive role for anger as a step towards structural healing in your understanding of programmatic, revolutionary change?
I don’t think so. And I deeply respect the pro-anger people. This is a big deal in feminist theory; it’s a big deal in critical race theory. There are some really good people who have argued powerfully for the importance of anger. And then, of course, there’s the long tradition rooted in Peter Strawson’s work about reactive attitudes, and anger as a kind of index of self-respect and an index of concern for others.
I think it’s all wrong. And I think it’s wrong because I think that we fail to draw a distinction here. That’s what philosophers do, we draw distinctions and we weasel out of things. I’m going to weasel out now by drawing a distinction. You know who does this really well? Martin Luther King. In particular, his letter from Birmingham Jail, which is a brilliant discussion of this idea.
So, I want to draw a distinction between anger and indignation. This is something I actually see coming out of Buddhaghosa–in the end, so much comes out of Buddhaghosa. He held that the difference between a virtue and a defilement (klesha) is almost always the difference between egocentricity and non-egocentricity, and anger is egocentric. I’m angry because of how something affects me, and that inscribes egocentricity that doesn’t get you anywhere, because the goal is the elimination of egocentricity. I can be indignant about something. I can say that was seriously wrong and here’s why, and we’ve got to do something about that, and truth is necessary, and reconciliation is necessary. But I can do that without the pathology of anger added to that, without the clouding of judgment, without the affect that simply perpetuates things, and without the egocentricity. And I think that’s really, really, really important.
So, we ask what does Buddhism bring to the table here? Buddhism brings a sophisticated moral psychology that allows us to distinguish egocentric from non-egocentric affective sets and moral reactions, and valorize the non-egocentric ones. I think that’s really important, with all due respect for the many really smart and really decent people who fall into the pro-anger camp. – Jay L. Garfield
I think it’s all wrong. And I think it’s wrong because I think that we fail to draw a distinction here. That’s what philosophers do, we draw distinctions and we weasel out of things. I’m going to weasel out now by drawing a distinction. You know who does this really well? Martin Luther King. In particular, his letter from Birmingham Jail, which is a brilliant discussion of this idea.
So, I want to draw a distinction between anger and indignation. This is something I actually see coming out of Buddhaghosa–in the end, so much comes out of Buddhaghosa. He held that the difference between a virtue and a defilement (klesha) is almost always the difference between egocentricity and non-egocentricity, and anger is egocentric. I’m angry because of how something affects me, and that inscribes egocentricity that doesn’t get you anywhere, because the goal is the elimination of egocentricity. I can be indignant about something. I can say that was seriously wrong and here’s why, and we’ve got to do something about that, and truth is necessary, and reconciliation is necessary. But I can do that without the pathology of anger added to that, without the clouding of judgment, without the affect that simply perpetuates things, and without the egocentricity. And I think that’s really, really, really important.
So, we ask what does Buddhism bring to the table here? Buddhism brings a sophisticated moral psychology that allows us to distinguish egocentric from non-egocentric affective sets and moral reactions, and valorize the non-egocentric ones. I think that’s really important, with all due respect for the many really smart and really decent people who fall into the pro-anger camp. – Jay L. Garfield