the futility of violence

My first response to the news that Osama bin Laden had been killed by the US was: "Ten years, thousands of lives and billions of dollars later, and the US has finally succeeded in making Osama bin Laden a martyr. Good job?"

All sarcasm aside, I realize that many see bin Laden's death as a cause for celebration, but I think it's worth reflecting on Lao-Tzu's words on war, especially the part about treating victory in war as a funeral:

Where the princely man abides, the weak left hand is in honour. But he who uses weapons honours the stronger right. Weapons are instruments of ill omen; they are not the instruments of the princely man, who uses them only when he needs must. Peace and tranquillity are what he prizes. When he conquers, he is not elate. To be elate were to rejoice in the slaughter of human beings. And he who rejoices in the slaughter of human beings is not fit to work his will in the Empire.

On happy occasions, the left is favoured; on sad occasions, the right. The second in command has his place on the left, the general in chief on the right. That is to say, they are placed in the order observed at funeral rites. And, indeed, he who has exterminated a great multitude of men should bewail them with tears and lamentation. It is well that those who are victorious in battle should be placed in the order of funeral rites.

A similar sentiment can even be found in the Old Testament of the Bible:

Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice, or the LORD will see and disapprove and turn his wrath away from them. (Pro 24:17-18)

Personally, it saddens me to see so many people celebrating the death of another human being, even a not-so-nice one like bin Laden. It reminds me of Gandhi's saying: "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." In fact, one of the main things that originally attracted me to Buddhism was its attitude towards violence, e.g.:

"He abused me, he struck me, he overpowered me, he robbed me." Those who harbor such thoughts do not still their hatred.

"He abused me, he struck me, he overpowered me, he robbed me." Those who do not harbor such thoughts still their hatred.

Hatred is never appeased by hatred in this world. By non-hatred alone is hatred appeased. This is a law eternal.

There are those who do not realize that one day we all must die. But those who do realize this settle their quarrels. (Dhp 1.3-6).

And:

Killing, you gain
your killer.
Conquering, you gain one
who will conquer you;
insulting, insult;
harassing, harassment.

And so, through the cycle of action,
he who has plundered
gets plundered in turn. (SN 3.15)

I think Howard Zinn, a WWII vet and political activist, came to a similar understanding — that war can't end war, that violence can't end violence — from his experiences in WWII; an idea which he expressed in part of a speech he gave in 2006:

I was talking to my barber the other day, because we always discuss world politics. And he's totally politically unpredictable, as most barbers are, you see. He said, "Howard," he said, "you know, you and I disagree on many things, but on one thing we agree: war solves nothing." And I thought, "Yeah." It's not hard for people to grasp that.

And there again, history is useful. We've had a history of war after war after war after war. What have they solved? What have they done? Even World War II, the "good war," the war in which I volunteered, the war in which I dropped bombs, the war after which, you know, I received a letter from General Marshall, general of generals, a letter addressed personally to me, and to 16 million others, in which he said, "We've won the war. It will be a new world." Well, of course, it wasn't a new world. It hasn't been a new world. War after war after war.

There are certain -- I came out of that war, the war in which I had volunteered, the war in which I was an enthusiastic bombardier, I came out of that war with certain ideas, which just developed gradually at the end of the war, ideas about war. One, that war corrupts everybody who engages in it. War poisons everybody who engages in it. You start off as the good guys, as we did in World War II. They're the bad guys. They're the fascists. What could be worse? So, they're the bad guys, we're the good guys. And as the war goes on, the good guys begin behaving like the bad guys. You can trace this back to the Peloponnesian War. You can trace it back to the good guy, the Athenians, and the bad guys, the Spartans. And after a while, the Athenians become ruthless and cruel, like the Spartans.

And we did that in World War II. We, after Hitler committed his atrocities, we committed our atrocities. You know, our killing of 600,000 civilians in Japan, our killing of probably an equal number of civilians in Germany. These, they weren't Hitler, they weren't Tojo. They weren't -- no, they were just ordinary people, like we are ordinary people living in a country that is a marauding country, and they were living in countries that were marauding countries, and they were caught up in whatever it was and afraid to speak up. And I don't know, I came to the conclusion, yes, war poisons everybody.

I know that we're not a nonviolent species by nature; but as naive as it might sound, it's my hope that we'll eventually see the futility of violence in the long run.

the place of god in buddhism

People new to Buddhism, especially those who come from a Judeo-Christian background, often ask about the place of God in Buddhism. Many are surprised to learn that most Buddhist traditions and texts don't posit an omnipotent, omniscient, creator god analogous to the Judeo-Christian God, and it seems to me that there are three main reasons why the question of God is basically a non-issue in Buddhism.

Reason #1: According to the texts, a beginning point to samsara (literally 'wandering on') isn't evident (SN 15.3). This can be interpreted two ways — that a beginning point to the continual cycle of death and rebirth of beings isn't evident, or that a beginning point to the continual cycle of death and rebirth of the conceit 'I am,' the self-identification that designates a being (satta), isn't evident — and they're not mutually exclusive. Either way, the point is the same: all that really matters in the here and now is whether suffering is present, and if so, how it can be overcome.

Reason #2: I think it's safe to say that Buddhism is essentially non-theistic in view. However, I also happen to be of the opinion that, if we dig a bit deeper, the idea of a creator God is incompatible with certain aspects and teachings that, if taken to their logical conclusion, seem to reject the idea of, or a need for, a creator God. For one thing, the logic of dependent co-arising, while primarily concerned with the psychological process by which suffering arises in the mind, negates the idea of a creator God in that it precludes a first cause or a causeless cause when applied to cosmology.

Then there's this famous problem of evil passage from the Bhuridatta Jataka (although, to be fair, this is most likely a later addition that some date to the 13th century):

We see those rules enforced before our eyes,
None but the Brahmans offer sacrifice,
None but the Khattiya exercises sway,
The Vessas plough, the Suddas must obey.
These greedy liars propagate deceit,
And fools believe the fictions they repeat;
He who has eyes can see the sickening sight;
Why does not Brahma set his creatures right?
If his wide power no limits can restrain,
Why is his hand so rarely spread to bless?
Why are his creatures all condemned to pain?
Why does he not to all give happiness?

Why do fraud, lies, and ignorance prevail?
Why triumphs falsehood, truth and justice fail?
I count your Brahma one of the unjust among,
Who made a world in which to shelter wrong.
Those men are counted pure who only kill
Frogs, worms, bees, snakes or insects as they will,
These are your savage customs which I hate,
Such as Kamboja hordes might emulate.
If he who kills is counted innocent
And if the victim safe to heaven is sent,
Let Brahmans Brahmans kill so all were well
And those who listen to the words they tell.

At best, God would have be more like the impassive and impersonal God of Aristotle, existing outside of time and space, to find a place within Buddhist cosmology; and anything existing outside of time and space would logically be completely static, meaning that God would be an undynamic being if God exists at all. Since everything within the range of our experience (i.e., within space and time) is subject to change, however, it's more logical to conclude that everything within our realm of experience is impermanent, meaning that for God to able to interact with our universe, God would also be temporal and subject to illness, aging and death just like every other being, hence not God.

Nevertheless, even in the earliest parts of the Pali Canon, there are references to devas or what we might call 'heavenly beings.' However, devas (literally 'radiant ones'), which are often seen as gods when taken literally, are simply non-human beings who are more powerful and long-lived than ordinary humans, and are by no means eternal, omnipresent, omnipotent, etc. (e.g., see DN 1). But more importantly, they can also be viewed metaphorically as the indulgent and hedonistic aspects of our psychology (i.e., the parts that are addicted to sensual pleasures).

In addition, according to AN 3.61, the belief in a supreme being can be unskillful and interfere with Dhamma practice if it leads to the belief that everything a person experiences is due to such a supreme being, a denial of the efficacy of kamma (literally 'action') and a life of inaction:

Having approached the priests & contemplatives who hold that... 'Whatever a person experiences... is all caused by a supreme being's act of creation,' I said to them: 'Is it true that you hold that... "Whatever a person experiences... is all caused by a supreme being's act of creation?"' Thus asked by me, they admitted, 'Yes.' Then I said to them, 'Then in that case, a person is a killer of living beings because of a supreme being's act of creation. A person is a thief... unchaste... a liar... a divisive speaker... a harsh speaker... an idle chatterer... greedy... malicious... a holder of wrong views because of a supreme being's act of creation.' When one falls back on creation by a supreme being as being essential, monks, there is no desire, no effort [at the thought], 'This should be done. This shouldn't be done.' When one can't pin down as a truth or reality what should & shouldn't be done, one dwells bewildered & unprotected. One cannot righteously refer to oneself as a contemplative. This was my second righteous refutation of those priests & contemplatives who hold to such teachings, such views.

Reason #3: In relation to the four noble truths and the practice of the noble eightfold path, the matter of the existence of God is, soteriologically speaking, unnecessary. The impetus of the practice is a strong conviction in the efficacy of actions and the intentions underlying them, not the existence of a supreme being (e.g., see MN 61).

Of course, this doesn't mean that people can't believe in God and still practice the Dhamma, especially some of its more contemplative aspects; but it does mean that, at the very least, such views can negatively impact the practice when held inappropriately. In addition, I understand that a belief in God can provide comfort in difficult times, as well as serve as the basis for a beneficial ethical-spiritual practice. I also accept that certain people may have had some kind of profound spiritual experience that has led them to adopt such beliefs, and I don't have any issues with that myself. (I mean, who am I to argue with someone's personal experiences?)

Moreover, I think one can certainly present Judeo-Christian ideas, or those from any other predominately monotheistic tradition, in a more or less Buddhistic way, and vice versa. As I've often mentioned before, my dear friend Simon shared with me some of his ideas regarding the "excellence of the synthesis of the messages and practices" of Buddhism and Christianity, for example; and people like David Cooper (God is a Verb) and Thomas Merton (Mystics and Zen Masters) seem to continually find harmony between these spiritual disciplines.

And one can't help but notice the similarities between certain Buddhist ideas and those found in Sankara's version of Advaita Vedanta. So much so, in fact, that many of his critics actually accused him of being a Buddhist in disguise. For example, it should be noted that the concept of anatman in Sankara's version of Advaita Vedanta is similar to the Buddhist anatta, quite possibly being derived from it. In one of his commentaries, Sankara writes, "Whenever we deny something unreal, we do so with reference to something real; the unreal snake, e.g. is negatived with reference to the real rope." Sankara essentially used the notion of anatman to deny the reality of the individual self (atman) in favour of Brahman.

But attempting to insert a Judeo-Christian type of God into Buddhism, or interpreting Buddhism proper through the lense of theism, would do violence to the entire spiritual and philosophical tradition, in my opinion. It'd be like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, and would do a serious disservice to the Buddha's teachings, which are geared towards reshaping our experience of the present in ways that limit and even eliminate suffering.