Buddhism, Nonviolence, and Power

Contemporary Buddhists have in recent decades given the world outstanding examples of nonviolent activism. Although these movements have demonstrated great courage and have generated massive popular support, sadly, none of them has, as yet, prevailed. In this paper I will explore how nonviolent power was exercised in these cases. I will draw upon the work of nonviolent theorist Gene Sharp to help us understand the nature and sources of nonviolent power. I will then use that material to analyze the power dynamics of the Buddhist nonviolent struggles in Vietnam during the war years, and in Burma and Tibet today. I will also reflect upon Buddhist attitudes towards the wielding of nonviolent power in conflict situations. * Department of Philosophy and Religion, James Madison University, Harrisonburg, Virginia 22802. Email:[email protected]. King, Buddhism, Nonviolence, and Power 104 Contemporary Buddhists have in recent decades given the world outstanding examples of nonviolent activism. Although these movements have demonstrated awe-inspiring courage and have generated massive popular support, sadly, none of them has, as yet, prevailed. In this paper I will explore how nonviolent power was exercised in these cases. I will focus upon three Buddhist nonviolent struggles: the Vietnamese Buddhist “Struggle Movement” between the years 1963 and1966 that attempted to end the war in that country; the Tibetan Liberation Movement led by His Holiness the Dalai Lama; and the Burmese Democracy Movement of 1988-1990 and 2007. These cases, of course, are quite different. The Vietnamese struggle was not in opposition to a particular oppressive group per se, but was an effort to induce a series of governments to stop prosecuting the war and to strive instead for a negotiated, political settlement. The Tibetan struggle is with an invading, occupying and controlling power that has displaced the native government, repressed Buddhism, and reduced the native people of Tibet to a minority in their own country by relocating large numbers of Han Chinese into Tibetan territory. The Burmese struggle is an effort to remove from power the dictatorship of the Burmese military and to restore democracy and human rights. Presumably, those who care about suffering and about nonviolence long for success in the Tibetan and Burmese struggles, for while the Vietnamese struggle is long over, these two struggles are not. A great deal of suffering would come to an end if either or both of these struggles would succeed. In addition, in this age of globalization, success or failure in these struggles has an impact on others. Successful struggles breed imitation, whereas failed struggles tend, naturally enough, to make people want to turn away from what they may see as failed tactics. Success matters, both for the sake of oppressed and suffering people and for the sake of the future of nonviolence. 105 Journal of Buddhist Ethics So far, however, there have been no successes, no victories in the Buddhist nonviolent struggles. It is not as if nonviolence cannot win struggles, even against great and violent powers. Nonviolence was the tool used in many successful struggles: the svaraj (self-rule) movement in India against the British Raj; the Solidarity movement in Poland against Communist rule; the civil rights movement in the United States; the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa; the “people power” deposing of Marcos in the Philippines; and the deposing of General Martinez in El Salvador, among others. Indeed, the general sentiment that the Buddhist struggle in Vietnam failed needs to be qualified. When viewed separately, the six month nonviolent struggle from May 8, 1963 to November 1, 1963 succeeded in the overthrow of Diem. If the movement had ended then, it would have been considered a significant nonviolent victory. However, it continued on and that victory became obscured in the failure of the larger movement. I was once asked in a radio interview by a particularly audacious interviewer: Do you think that the Engaged Buddhists have failed to win any of their struggles because there is no God in Buddhism? Although my answer to that question was and is an unqualified, “no,” I was at that time unable to answer to my own satisfaction why it is that Engaged Buddhist nonviolent struggles have not yet succeeded. Certainly it is necessary to regard each case as unique and to evaluate each one separately. In this paper, I propose to draw upon the thinking of Gene Sharp to clarify our understanding of nonviolent power. I will use those ideas to analyze the dynamics of power in the nonviolent struggles of Vietnam during the war years, and Tibet and Burma today. Gene Sharp is arguably the foremost theoretician of nonviolent power in the world today. He is also an established friend of both the Burmese and Tibetan Engaged Buddhists, having worked directly with both. I will use the Buddhist casKing, Buddhism, Nonviolence, and Power 106 es to reflect back upon Sharp’s theories, offering a response from the Buddhist side to Sharp’s views. As we proceed, we will also reflect upon the ethical issues implicit in Buddhist use of nonviolent power. Before taking up Sharp’s analysis of power, I must point out that contemporary Buddhist activism often seems to have an uneasy relationship with the very idea of power, despite the fact that it engages in social and political struggles. For example, looking back upon the Struggle Movement in Vietnam, Ven. Thich Nhat Hanh has reflected: There were people who described it [the 1963 struggle against Diem] as a holy struggle, because the intention was so pure. The struggle in 1966, 1967, and on up to the present has never been as pure as it was in 1963. Because, when we speak of a third force, of replacing the government, of all those things, there is always an intention of seizing or at least sharing power. ... I think the motive of the struggle determines almost everything. [At the time of the 1963 struggle] you see that people are suffering and you are suffering, and you want to change. No desire, no ambition, is involved. So, you come together easily! I have never seen that kind of spirit again, after the 1963 coup. We have done a lot to try to bring it back, but we haven’t been able to. ... It was so beautiful. (Berrigan and Hanh 80-81) There is no question that motivation is important. There is a reason, I believe, why religion is often (though by no means always) involved in the motivation of those involved in nonviolent struggles—religion is often able to impart to its adherents great courage, hope and, at its best, an idealistic vision for which one is prepared to sacrifice. Motivation, however, is one thing, and success is another. Another example of an uneasy Buddhist relationship with power is a 2007 statement by Ven. Ashin Nayaka, a leader of the International 107 Journal of Buddhist Ethics Burmese Monks Organization. With respect to the “Saffron Revolution,” the monk-led protests in Burma/Myanmar of 2007, he said, “the Saffron Revolution is not a power struggle, but a conflict between peace and moral freedom on one side and the forces of political repression on the other” (Nayaka). Here we see a similar distaste for the very idea of political power. These expressions of apparent distaste for the very idea of political power made by two important contemporary leaders of nonviolent struggles require a comment. On the one hand, this attitude is entirely in keeping with the ethos of contemporary Engaged Buddhism, a movement of social and political activism found throughout the Buddhist world in which Thich Nhat Hanh is a major leader. This movement, although having practical aims, also strives to embody the highest ideals of Buddhism, including selflessness. Perhaps the distaste for the idea of political power noted above stems from a perceived incompatibility between the ideals of Buddhism—including, for example, the intention to maintain an attitude of selflessness and universal benevolence—with the idea of “grasping” power for oneself, or for one’s “side” in a struggle. On the other hand, this apparent distaste for power is entirely out of keeping with much of the history of Buddhism. The historical record clearly shows that in very many times and places a great deal of political power was wielded by monks, who frequently advised or served rulers. In addition, there was considerable symbiosis between Buddhism and the state in such countries as Tibet, with its monk-led government, and Thailand, with its national slogan, “Nation, King, and Religion” and its Emerald Buddha, possession of which was felt to be an essential source of power for the king. All this has been regarded as quite proper and even normative by most Buddhists in these and many other times and places. King, Buddhism, Nonviolence, and Power 108 Indeed, one may question (as do such Buddhist activist leaders as Ven. Walpola Rahula and Dr. A. T. Ariyaratne, both of Sri Lanka) whether the contemporary negative Buddhist attitude towards political power is at least partly a result of the Western colonial occupation in much of South and Southeast Asia, which eliminated the political advice and service roles of Buddhist monks, along with many of their constructive social functions, effectively confining them to their most unworldly roles (Rahula 71-89). Christian missionaries subsequently castigated Buddhism for its other-worldliness and subsequent generations soon forgot that Buddhism had ever been seriously involved in social and political matters. In light of the historically great participation of Buddhism in the shared wielding of political power, perhaps the real question is whether the contemporary negative attitude towards political power is in fact a negative feeling about contending for power with those who hold it, as opposed to supporting and serving the rulers and participating in their power, which has been the normative political posture for Buddhism. There have, of course, been many occasions when monks have contended for power with power-holders, such as the infamous “monksoldiers” of medieval Japan; but such contending has generally been regarded with strong distaste by posterity, unless it has involved monks struggling against foreign invaders and occupiers (as, for example, in Korea). Furthermore, although I wrote above that, “those who care about suffering and about nonviolence long for success” in these struggles, I have found, to my surprise, that this is not necessarily the case. Linked to the phenomenon of some Buddhists finding the idea of power struggles distasteful and/or unethical, I have found that some Buddhists, at least, are similarly prone to question the idea of winning such struggles. When I have had occasion to speak with Asian Buddhist monks about my concern that Buddhists are not winning any of their nonviolent struggles, the inevitable response (given with a smile) has been: “ah, but what 109 Journal of Buddhist Ethics is winning?” as if either (1) this is a philosophically complex and elusive subject, or (2) there is no fixing samsara, therefore there is no winning. I daresay, however, that the people of Burma know very well indeed what it would mean to win their struggle. In short, negative attitudes towards the idea of struggling for power and quizzical attitudes towards winning such a struggle are present in the contemporary Buddhist world. However, nonviolent theoretician Gene Sharp argues that whether one likes it or not, the success or failure of a nonviolent struggle is finally determined by who holds the greatest power in a power struggle. Would it, then, be important for contemporary Buddhists to think more positively about struggling for power if they want their struggles to succeed? Would it be important for Buddhists to believe in winning in order to have their struggles succeed? Let us examine Sharp’s views. Sharp begins his magnum opus, The Politics of Nonviolent Power, by investigating the nature of political power itself. He argues persuasively that the power of the state, even the most despotic state, ultimately rests upon the consent and cooperation of the people of that state. He begins making his case by pointing out that rulers, whether a single individual or a small, governing group, do not and never could rule the state by themselves. Every ruler has only two hands and twenty-four hours a day of time. In order to wield power, all rulers must acquire power from sources outside of themselves. He discusses six sources of such power.  Authority. This is the right to give commands and to be obeyed voluntarily by the people. Sharp argues that although rulers can use violence to punish people who do not obey them, this cannot be the main source of their power. This is because it takes resources to inflict violent punishment—for example, policemen or soldiers who will be in the right time and place to see the disobedience and punish it. This can be done for the occasional disobeyer but it King, Buddhism, Nonviolence, and Power 110 cannot be done for an entire country full of people. The rulers depend upon the majority of people obeying automatically without the use of violent force, of which there is a finite supply.  Human resources. By themselves, rulers can actually do very little; they require subordinates to execute their orders. A source of power for rulers, then, is the cooperation of government ministers, the entire government bureaucracy, the military, and police.  Knowledge. By extension, another source of the power of rulers is having command of an array of skills and knowledge—planners, engineers, a weapons industry, manufacturers, etc.  Culture. The power of the ruler is affected by religious, psychological and ideological factors, including habits and attitudes towards obedience and submission.  Resources. Rulers require command of material resources— property, food and water, natural resources, financial resources, means of communication, and transportation.  Enforcement. A final source of rulers’ power is the ability to inflict harm through penalties and punishments. Upon examination, it becomes clear that all these sources of the power of rulers fundamentally depend upon the consent and cooperation of the people. Authority, as we have seen, is nothing but the consent and acquiescence of the people. Similarly, the human resources upon which the ruler directly depends would not be available to the ruler unless people allowed themselves to be of use, whether they be civil servants, soldiers or manufacturers. Even natural resources, which might seem to be independent of human consent, have to be delivered by human beings to the place where they are wanted. Penalties, too, must be delivered by human agents. A ruler cannot personally arrest or shoot 111 Journal of Buddhist Ethics everyone everywhere who disobeys him; he relies upon others to do this for him. In short, everything that a ruler needs in order to exercise power depends upon the cooperation of others. Others put the power into his hands. Therefore, each of these sources of the ruler’s power is something that could also, at least in theory, be withheld from the ruler. Thus, Sharp is able to argue that the people of the state have sufficient nonviolent power to overturn a government that they do not accept when they remove the consent and cooperation upon which that government depends. That is, the people gain control “not by the infliction of superior violence ..., but rather by the subjects’ declining to supply the powerholder with the sources of his power, by cutting off his power at the roots” (Sharp Politics 47). Might this be a conception of power that would be acceptable even to the most exacting Buddhist ethics (assuming that the ethics did not require withdrawal from the world and its concerns)? Could those who understand their struggle in the most selfless and idealistic terms embrace this conception of power? Of course, people do not routinely rid themselves of unwanted governments. To do so is very, very difficult. Sharp identifies two main impediments to the people’s exercise of their power to unseat tyrants: will and ability (Sharp Politics 31-48). In order to acquire the will to change the status quo, Sharp argues that the people must overcome their ignorance of the fact that it is they who are empowering the ruler by accepting and cooperating with his rule. When they understand this, they must firmly decide that they are going to withdraw their cooperation from the ruler. In addition to acquiring the will to make change happen, it is also necessary to have an idea of how to make change happen. Sharp argues that in order to achieve success in a nonviolent struggle, it is essential that there be group or mass action, and furthermore that there should be a carefully considered strategy based upon an unKing, Buddhism, Nonviolence, and Power 112 derstanding of how nonviolent power works. It is not difficult to see that the Buddhist attitudes discussed above—disdain towards the idea of contending for power and a quizzical attitude towards winning—would be significant impediments to success according to Sharp’s theories. It must be acknowledged that nonviolent power is by no means safe. The more a nonviolent group builds up power, the more they are a threat to their opponents and therefore risk violent repression. Struggling nonviolently does not remove a group from the risk of harm. However, most nonviolent activists believe that there are likely to be fewer casualties in a nonviolent struggle than in a violent one. This is one of the reasons that Aung San Suu Kyi has given for taking a nonviolent approach in the Burmese struggle. She has said: We’ve chosen non-violence because it is the best way to protect the people, and in the long term assure the future stability of democracy. ... [I]f you have a choice and feel that you have an equal chance of succeeding, I think you certainly ought to choose the non-violent way, because it means that fewer people will be