is killing ever right?

I'm not really a big fan of hypothetical moral dilemmas, but they do tend to crop up every now and then, especially on Buddhist discussion forums. One of the most popular is the 'railroad switch dilemma' in which a train is heading for a bridge that's collapsed and you can either (1) do nothing and let it fall, killing everyone on board, or (2) you can throw a switch so the that train will be diverted to a different track where the train and its passengers will be safe, but there's someone on the track who's unable to escape the oncoming train and will be killed instead. This is the one that I'm most familiar with, anyway.

As with most moral dilemmas, it's a no win situation to begin with, so people are going to die regardless; it's just a matter of how many. The question is, How do we determine what's moral? Apparently, studies utilizing brain scans have shown that decisions like these are more or less mathematical judgment calls that our brains tend to make in favour of the many, unless, of course, the person on the track is someone close to us. Then, another part of our brain may take over.

Looking at this from a Buddhist perspective, however, whether or not an action is considered skillful or morally blameless is determined by the intention behind it. Intentional actions rooted in greed, ill-will or delusion have the potential to produce painful feelings and are considered unskillful (akusala) and morally blameworthy, while intentional actions rooted in non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion produce the opposite and are considered skillful (kusala) and morally blameless.

The basic premise behind kamma (literally 'action') is that there's a cause and effect relationship between our actions and how they're experienced, and the teachings themselves deal specifically with the intentional action of individuals and how the results of those actions are then experienced by said individuals. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu puts it, "It's simply the fact of action—you do something unskillful, it's going to come back in an unpleasant way." In the same way, if you do something skillful, it's going to come back and be experienced in a pleasant way. That's why the Buddha advises his followers to frequently contemplate:

'I am the owner of my actions, heir to my actions, born of my actions, related through my actions, and have my actions as my arbitrator. Whatever I do, for good or for evil, to that will I fall heir.'

Moreover, a distinction needs to be made regarding the railroad switch dilemma, at least from a Buddhist point of view. If a train is heading towards a bridge that has collapsed, letting it reach the bridge doesn't require us to actively kill someone as switching the tracks would. Inaction would lead to more deaths, but our action would lead to killing, which, in Buddhism, requires an act of volition, so it's hard for me to say whether such an action would actually be skillful or morally blameless. I suppose it could provided that the intention was, for example, compassion for the people on the train, but that in and of itself is a contentious debate within many Buddhist circles.

Additionally, even if killing one person were to save the lives of many, I don't think this necessarily makes it 'right'; although this is more or less the utilitarian position. It can certainly be justified, but I think that's another matter entirely. In fact, this reminds me of something I wrote a while ago about moral absolutism:

Personally, I'm not absolutely sure one way or the other, but I think that social consciousness changes and evolves. There was a time not too long ago, for example, when things like genocide and rape were justified (and in some cases, it appears they still are). Just look at the Bible and the accounts of what ancient Israelites did to other tribes in the name of their god, acts which they where able to justify then but aren't so justifiable today (e.g., Deut 20:16-18, where God ordered the death of every man, woman and child in Canaan). And I'm not trying to pick on the Bible; every culture has its own examples.

I don't like killing. I don't even like the thought of it. But that doesn't mean there's some cosmic dictate that states it's evil and wrong under any circumstance. And even if there was, what about people like Hitler? If you say that things like murder and genocide are always wrong, but people like Hitler are evil and must be stopped at any cost, does that mean it's OK to murder and entire group of people if they're all like Hitler?

If the answer's yes, then it'd appear that such moral 'absolutes' aren't very absolute, and if the answer's no, then evil has a natural advantage over good in that it's protected by these absolutes even as it transgresses them with wild abandon.

Objectively speaking, I can't say that anything is right or wrong, but I have no trouble doing so subjectively. I don't like the thought of killing or being killed, and it's easy for me to see how other people tend to feel the same way; therefore, I can at least see how such actions are relatively right or wrong based upon this point of reference. But I don't believe the universe is designed in such a way as to make any specific action done by human beings absolutely right or wrong (remember, we're not the only animals who kill, etc.).

The way I see it, we simply experience the results of our actions in ways that are interpreted to be right or wrong based upon a myriad of factors, some of which may be unique to our species. The main reason I take this relativistic position is the fact that I've yet to discover an immutable source or basis for such absolutes besides the fact that I find them repugnant.

If I knew without a doubt that there was such a basis, then my position would certainly change, but I'm currently unconvinced of its existence. I can see how these actions are morally right and wrong from a human-centric point of view, but I fail to see an objective seat from which they can be judged one or the other in any absolute sense.

That said, the commentarial tradition of Theravada posits that the intention to kill itself is inherently unskillful as it's always rooted in an unskillful state of mind such as ill-will or delusion, and ultimately leads to unpleasant results in the form of mental suffering (e.g., as a result of remorse, legal punishment, a bad destination after death for those who believe in such things, etc.). The Abhidhammattha-Sangaha, for example, states that:

According to Abhidhamma killing is invariably done with ill-will or aversion. Prompted by whatever motive, one, as a rule, kills with a thought of ill-will. Where there is ill-will (patigha) there is displeasure (domanassa). Where there is displeasure there is ill-will in a subtle or gross way.

I don't necessarily agree with this point of view, but it's something to think about. Personally, I've come to the conclusion that killing rarely benefits anyone, if ever. I think it's better to look for an alternative whenever possible, but nobody is perfect and sometimes we're forced to make difficult decisions, such as being in a position of deciding who lives and who dies or whether to go to war to protect our country from invaders (e.g., see Major General Ananda Weerasekera's more pro-military essay "Buddhism & The Soldier").

Nevertheless, I do accept that, in certain situations, it's possible a person can kill out of compassion or other skillful (read 'morally blameless) mental states (e.g., think of a sick and dying pet or possible even a loved one). That doesn't mean it's right (or even wrong for that matter) in any objective sense, but then, I'm not much of a moral absolutist. What I do think, however, is that the intentions behind our actions can influence how we experience the results of those actions.

Pragmatically speaking, actions are deemed 'unskillful' if they lead to to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both. Actions that don't lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others or to both are deemed 'skillful' (MN 61). Therefore, the distinction between skillful and unskillful actions is based upon how their results are experienced—not only by ourselves, but by others as well. This emphasis on the consequential aspect of actions is similar to Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism, with John Stuart Mill's idea of higher and lower happiness being similar to the Buddha's distinction between long-term and short-term welfare and happiness.

Psychologically speaking, however, the quality of the intentions behind the actions is what ultimately determines whether they're unskillful or skillful. This aspect is closer to Kant's deontological categorical imperative when combined with the Buddhist principle of ahimsa or harmlessness. Intentional actions rooted in greed, hatred or delusion are said to produce painful mental feelings "like those of the beings in hell," while intentional actions rooted in non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion are said to produce the opposite ("like those of the Beautiful Black Devas"). Then there are acts rooted in both that bring mixed results "like those of human beings, some devas, and some beings in the lower realms" (AN 4.235).

So from the Buddhist point of view, it's not simply the utility of an action that must be taken into consideration, but the motives behind the action as well. And just for reference, here's an interesting talk I watched recently dealing with the biological basis for morality: 'Morality: From the Heavens or From Nature?' I agree Dr. Thomas that morality is natural in the sense that it comes from the "evolved architecture" of our minds, which is why I believe that, psychologically speaking, the quality of the intentions behind our actions can determine how the results, whether positive or negative, are experienced.

That said (and I hate to admit it), I don't know what the Buddha would do in such a situation, but I'd probably be so caught up in trying to decide what I should do that I'd be paralyzed by indecision an wouldn't be capable of doing anything at all, and I'd watch in horror as five people were ran over by a train and I felt powerless to stop it because I was too busy looking for the perfect solution.

some thoughts on addiction

I don't know anything about the science behind addictions or their effects on the brain, but I do know something about addictions themselves. I've been mentally and physically addicted to many things in my short life. I'm intimately aware of what it's like to have something that was once done for the simple pleasure of doing it become an all-consuming habit; and that even when able to stop indulging in such destructive habits, how the craving and desire to indulge in those old comforts are always present in the background.

I think that while the superficial aspects and objects of each individual's addictions are as different and complex as the stars in the sky, the mechanisms underlying those addictions are basically the same. The body itself is nothing but a lifeless shell without the mind, and even though addictions can be physical in the sense that the body can become trained to need certain substances present in its system in order for it to function as it did before it became 'addicted,' the mind is where all of our choices and decisions are made.

When seen in this way, it's easy to see that the mind plays an important role no matter what the addiction. For someone to physically pick up an alcoholic beverage and drink it, the mind must have already had the intention to do so. For one to physically light up a cigarette and smoke it, the mind must have already had the intention to do that too. For someone to physically do almost anything, the mind must have already had the intention to do so. With my own addictions, whether or not my body was dependent upon the object of my addiction, there still was a choice in my mind to give in to those cravings and desires.

For the most part, addictions are nothing more than a means for the temporary relief of our daily suffering, pain and unhappiness in that they either ease the mental and/or physical symptoms of our suffering, or they serve to take our attention away from those symptoms. Addictions can also become near and dear to us when they induce pleasant mental states and bodily sensations or act as a security blanket for our fears and social anxieties.

But all too often, we don't see that the short term suffering of denying our unskillful cravings is preferable to the long term suffering of being a willing slave to those unskillful cravings. The difficult part is that even if we know this the case, we're still unable to deny those unskillful cravings for very long.

In the Suttas, the Buddha often talks about clinging, but the Pali term 'upadana' (literally 'fuel'), can also be translated as 'addiction'—what we cling to, what our mind takes as its sustenance, is also seen as what we're addicted to. The four types of clinging that the Buddha mentions are: (1) clinging to sensual passion for sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and tactile sensations, (2) to views about the world and the narratives of our lives, (3) to precepts and practices and (4) to doctrines of the self.

What this basically means is that suffering comes down to the feeding habits of the mind. One reason we're unable to simply let go of these addictions when we realize they're bad for us is that the mind isn't strong enough to stop feeding on them. And even if do we manage to pry it from one source of nourishment, it just keeps finding new (and usually unskillful) ways to feed and cling. In other words, we relentlessly feed our addictions or we simply substitute one unskillful addiction for another.

In my experience, the answer to freeing ourselves from our unskillful addictions lies in replacing them with more and more skillful one by training the mind. When we become addicted to more skillful things — e.g., being generous, jogging, practicing mindfulness, etc., — we slowly but surely change the types of 'food' that our mind feeds upon. We rewire ourselves to find pleasure and happiness in more and more skillful ways, which will eventually help us to abandon our unskillful addictions once and for all.

When we train our mind, when we develop its powers of mindfulness and cultivate more and more refined states of concentration, we help to make it strong enough to overcome its addictions. A strong mind can ignore the voices of craving and, if the what the texts say is true, eventually silence those voices forever.

kamma

The basic premise behind kamma is that there's a cause and effect relationship between our actions and how they're experienced. As Thanissaro Bhikkhu puts it, "It's simply the fact of action—you do something unskillful, it's going to come back in an unpleasant way." In the same way, if you do something skillful, it's going to come back and be experienced in a pleasant way. In the Suttas, the Buddha defines kamma as intentional actions of body, speech, and mind (AN 6.63) that have the potential to produce certain results, which, in turn, have the potential to produce pleasant, painful, both pleasant and painful, or neutral feelings (AN 4.235). The word itself simply means 'action.'

Pragmatically speaking, actions are deemed 'unskillful' (akusala) if they lead to to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both. Actions that don't lead to self-affliction, to the affliction of others, or to both are deemed 'skillful' (kusala) (MN 61). Therefore, the distinction between skillful and unskillful actions is based upon how their results are experienced—not only by ourselves, but by others as well. (This emphasis on the consequential aspect of actions is similar to Jeremy Bentham's teleological utilitarianism, with John Stuart Mill's idea of higher and lower happiness being similar to the Buddha's distinction between long-term and short-term welfare and happiness.)

Psychologically speaking, however, the quality of the intentions behind the actions is what ultimately determines whether they're unskillful or skillful. (This aspect is closer to Kant's deontological categorical imperative when combined with the Buddhist principle of ahimsa or harmlessness.) Intentional actions rooted in greed, hatred, or delusion produce painful mental feelings "like those of the beings in hell," while intentional actions rooted in non-greed, non-hatred and non-delusion produce the opposite ("like those of the Beautiful Black Devas"). Then there are acts rooted in both that bring mixed results "like those of human beings, some devas, and some beings in the lower realms" (AN 4.235). By bringing kamma to an end, however, the mind is said to become free and undisturbed.

In Buddhism, intention or will (cetana) isn't conceived as something independent of causality, but a product of the aggregate of mental formations (sankharakhandha). The cause by which kamma comes into play is sensory contact (phassa). Furthermore, according to Nyanatiloka's Manual of Buddhist Terms and Doctrines, vipaka, 'fruit' or 'result,' is "any ... mental phenomenon (e.g. bodily agreeable or painful feeling, sense-consciousness, etc.), which is the result of wholesome or unwholesome volitional action (karma, q.v.) through body, speech or mind, done either in this or some previous life."

Essentially, intentional actions of body, speech, and mind produce results that are said to have the potential to ripen during this lifetime, in the next birth, or in later births. This can be taken literally (i.e., ripening in the form of a pleasant or unpleasant rebirth in an external realm of existence), or metaphorically (i.e., ripening in the form of various pleasant or unpleasant mental states). In the words of S. Dhammika:

According to the Buddha, every intentional action modifies our consciousness, thus building our character and thereby influencing our behaviour, our experience and consequently our destiny. Positive intentional actions (motivated by generosity, love and wisdom) tend towards consequences that are experienced as positive while intentional negative actions (motivated by greed, hatred and delusion) tend towards consequences that are experienced as negative.

Therefore, I think that in certain contexts, it would be appropriate to think of kamma as 'habit energy' in the sense that the potential effects of an action can be to condition and even strengthen certain physical and psychological reactions. This is especially true in regard to psychological reactions considering that vipaka is limited specifically to 'mental phenomena.'

As for the common misconception of kamma that everything we do or experience in the present is solely conditioned by past actions (i.e., the straight line theory of causality), that's actually how the Jain doctrine of kamma is portrayed in the Pali Canon. The Buddha, on the other hand, took the position that our experience of the present is conditioned by both past and present actions (i.e., the non-linear theory of causality). (It seems to me that the difference between Nigantha Nataputta's doctrine of kamma and the Buddha's doctrine of kamma is not unlike the difference between Democritus' atomism and Epicurus' atomism.)

Since the Buddhist conception of causality is non-linear, we don't have to exhaust all our negative kamma, which is essentially the doctrine of the Jains (see MN 101), we simply have to eliminate the production of kamma in the present. And that's a good thing. Theoretically, if we assume for the moment that all of the teachings on rebirth are literally true, then it'd be statistically impossible to exhaust all of our 'negative kamma' due to the fact that 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.)

The Buddha's teachings, on the other hand, state that to gain release from samsara, one must put an end to all types of kamma, not just the negative since kamma is a mental component inherently tied to, and influenced by, greed, hatred, and delusion (AN 3.33). That's why the noble eightfold path is called "the path of practice leading to the cessation of kamma" (SN 35.145). They're skillful actions that, when used appropriately, have the potential to ultimately lead to the elimination of the skillful/unskillful dichotomy altogether, leaving only happiness (Dhp XV), contentment (Thag 9), peace (Snp 2.1), freedom (SN 36.31), and moral perfection behind (AN 9.7). As St. Maximus writes in Opuscula theologica et polemica (albeit from a Christian perspective), "A perfect nature has no need of choice, for it knows naturally what is good. Its freedom is based on this knowledge."

some thoughts on the buddhist concept of clinging

It's a common misunderstanding that, in Buddhism, attachment or clinging is the cause of suffering (dukkha). But the second noble truth actually states that the origination of suffering is "the craving [tahna, literally 'thirst'] that makes for further becoming — accompanied by passion &; delight, relishing now here &; now there — i.e., craving for sensual pleasure, craving for becoming, craving for non-becoming" (SN 56.11). As Thanissaro Bhikkhu explains in Wings to Awakening:

Craving for sensuality, here, means the desire for sensual objects. Craving for becoming means the desire for the formation of states or realms of being that are not currently happening, while craving for non-becoming means the desire for the destruction or halting of any that are. "Passion and delight," here, is apparently a synonym for the "desire and passion" for the five aggregates that constitutes clinging/sustenance [III/H/ii].

The Pali term 'upadana' (literally 'fuel') is the word that's generally translated as 'addiction,' 'attachment' or 'clinging,' and it can also mean 'the act of taking sustenance' (which is why clinging is often described as the 'feeding habits of the mind'). In MN 9, it states:

And what is clinging, what is the origin of clinging, what is the cessation of clinging, what is the way leading to the cessation of clinging? There are these four kinds of clinging: clinging to sensual pleasures, clinging to views, clinging to rituals and observances, and clinging to a doctrine of self. With the arising of craving, there is the arising of clinging. With the cessation of craving, there is the cessation of clinging. The way leading to the cessation of clinging is just this Noble Eightfold Path; that is, right view... right concentration.

Much like the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who, we're told in Plato's dialogue Cratylus, held that "all things flow and nothing stands" (401d), the Buddha observed the characteristic of impermanence that's inherent to all conditional things as well. In Buddhist philosophy, all things that are conditional, or in other words all things that arise from causes and conditions, are seen to be impermanent, subject to cessation, to dissolution. In the discourses of the Buddha that are preserved in the Pali Canon, this idea is presented in numerous ways, with the basic formula being, "Whatever is subject to arising is all subject to cessation" (SN 56.11). Everything in this world is in a state of flux, i.e., nothing in this world remains unchanging, and it's precisely because of this characteristic of existence that attachment gives rise to suffering.

To begin with, what is attachment? Attachment involves clinging to some object of sensory contact (forms, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile sensations or ideas) due to some degree of gratification and pleasure derived from that object. When pleasant feelings arise, our initial reaction is to grasp at that pleasure and cling to whatever it is that happens to give rise to such pleasant feelings. Therefore, with the presence of attachment, the object of contact along with the corresponding feeling associated with that contact becomes essential to our experience of happiness.

How, then, does attachment give rise to suffering? The Pali word 'dukkha,' often translated as 'suffering,' is philosophically complex. The Buddha detailed three types of suffering, one of which is called 'viparinama-dukkha'—the suffering that results from change. Suffering of this kind arises when either the object of contact or the pleasant feelings that arise changes in some way, whereby the gratification and happiness that's dependent upon those conditions ceases, thus giving rise to unhappiness. Hence, separation from that which makes us happy is suffering.

This particular form of suffering isn't as obvious as the suffering experienced in the form of physical pain, but it's a sense of sorrow that one experiences when the moments of happiness, moments of sensual gratification and pleasure, fail to last. Therefore, unlike the unhappiness that arises when we experience something unpleasant, the suffering that results from change arises because a particular form of gratification and pleasure that we've become accustomed to producing an emotional state of happiness fades away.

The way I see it, the human organism is a complex assortment of mental and physical processes, and since one of the underlying motivations behind our actions is the desire for happiness and pleasure, it's no wonder that the ever-changing circumstances in life are sometimes so hard for us to bear. But most people have trouble understanding the teachings on clinging from a Buddhist standpoint. People often take it to mean that they should give up everything completely—that all possessions, relationships, likes, dislikes, etc. must be discarded. That's not a correct understanding of this concept, however. How can you discard a feeling for example? Is it any more possible to get rid of your brain? Ha, imagine that! No, to truly become free of 'clinging' we need to understand the mental process itself, not throw away all of our belongings.

Clinging in this context is basically when our sense of self (our ego or sense of identity if you prefer) creates the illusion of need through its craving (i.e., want or desire to the Nth degree). In the simplest of terms, clinging is our security blanket in life. Anything that comforts, protects or gives rise to a continuation of the our sense of self is a security blanket, and the mind and body use many things effectively for this purpose.

There's rarely a moment when the mind isn't clinging to this or that in one or more of the four ways (MN 11). Our identity jumps from one thing to another, wherever the clinging is strongest. Our sense of self is something that's always in flux, ever-changing from moment to moment in response to various internal and external stimuli, and yet at the same time, we tend to see it as a static thing. It's as if our sense of self desires permanence, but its very nature causes it to change every second! As the Buddha warns in SN 12.61:

"It would be better for the uninstructed run-of-the-mill person to hold to the body composed of the four great elements, rather than the mind, as the self. Why is that? Because this body composed of the four great elements is seen standing for a year, two years, three, four, five, ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, a hundred years or more. But what's called 'mind,' 'intellect,' or 'consciousness' by day and by night arises as one thing and ceases as another. Just as a monkey, swinging through a forest wilderness, grabs a branch. Letting go of it, it grabs another branch. Letting go of that, it grabs another one. Letting go of that, it grabs another one. In the same way, what's called 'mind,' 'intellect,' or 'consciousness' by day and by night arises as one thing and ceases as another.

Change is, of course, a fact of nature. All things are in a perpetual state of change, but the problem is that our sense of self ignores this reality on a certain level. From birth to death, we have the tendency to think that this 'I' remains the same. Now, we might know that some things have changed (e.g., our likes and dislikes, our age, the amount of wrinkles we have, etc.), but we still feel as if we're still 'us.' We have the illusion (for lack of a better word) that our identity is who we are, a static entity named [fill in the blank], and we tend to perceive this as being the same throughout our lives.

For example, we cling to our names. "I am Jason." Nevertheless, if we hear a name that we like better, a nickname perhaps, we'll cling to that. We may even get angry if someone calls us by a different name. "I'm not James, I'm Jason!" It's clinging that gives rise to this sense of ownership, this sense of 'mine.' With the presence of clinging, our mind is like one of those horrid glue traps for rats. Whatever gets stuck in there becomes a part of it, even though they're truly two separate things. (Just as we can 'feel' and yet our feelings are not 'us.')

That said, the conventional use of personality is a function of survival, as well as convenience. However, clinging to our personalities as 'me' or 'mine' is seen as giving continued fuel for becoming (bhava), i.e., a mental process of taking on a particular kind of identity that arises out of clinging. Our sense of self, the ephemeral 'I,' is merely a mental imputation — the product of what the Buddha called a process of 'I-making' and 'my-making' — and when we cling to our sense of self as being 'me' or 'mine' in some way, we're clinging to an impermanent representation of something that we've deluded ourselves into thinking is fixed and stable. It becomes a sort of false refuge that's none of these things.

So from a Buddhist perspective, all of this clinging is unhealthy for our mind. The weight of all these things we pick up internally creates huge burdens, burdens which we then must carry around with us. They oppress our heart, they cloud our judgment and they cause us suffering.

Conversely, meditation and contemplation are seen as excellent methods for developing insight into this mental process. From the Buddhist point of view, we're basically slaves to our craving, and mindfulness is our best weapon. Constant attention and awareness of these things is said to help shed light into the dark corners of our mind. Meditation allows us to see these mental processes in action, and once we begin to see the potential stress and danger that's hidden within the process of clinging, we become less passionate about it. We remove its appeal and cease to be blind to our predicament. Dispassion is then said to lead to relinquishment — to the complete letting go of our craving — thereby ending our mental addictions and enabling us to enjoy life with a truly free heart.

At least that's what I make out of it.

violence

I'm often puzzled when people try to blame the violent behaviour of so-called Buddhists on Buddhism itself. While there have certainly been cases where Buddhists have attempted to legitimize their violent behavior, such as many Japanese Buddhists during WWII, an objective look at the Buddha's discourses in the Pali Canon shows that there's absolutely no scriptural basis for violence or violent behavior whatsoever; and most of the justifications for the use of violence by predominately Buddhist countries are either secular in nature or influenced by ideas foreign to Buddhism proper.

Buddhism, as with Jainism, is founded on the principle of ahimsa or harmlessness and nonviolence. The Buddha never condoned acts of aggression or violence, going so far as to lay down rules expelling monks and nuns who even spoke in favour of killing. For example, from the Vinita Vatthu:

A bhikkhu advises an executioner to kill his victims mercifully with a single blow, rather than torturing them. The executioner follows his advice, and the bhikkhu incurs a parajika [i.e., 'defeat,' expelled from the Sangha]. This judgment indicates that a bhikkhu should not involve himself in matters of this sort, no matter how humane his intentions.

Another example of the his teachings on nonviolence from the discourses can be found MN 21; although, in context, it's an exaggerated example used to illustrate the correct way to develop patience and maintain the five aspects of right speech even under trying conditions:

Monks, even if bandits were to carve you up savagely, limb by limb, with a two-handled saw, he among you who let his heart get angered even at that would not be doing my bidding. Even then you should train yourselves: 'Our minds will be unaffected and we will say no evil words. We will remain sympathetic, with a mind of good will, and with no inner hate. We will keep pervading these people with an awareness imbued with good will and, beginning with them, we will keep pervading the all-encompassing world with an awareness imbued with good will — abundant, expansive, immeasurable, free from hostility, free from ill will.' That's how you should train yourselves.

And then there's this famous passage from the Dhammapada:

All tremble at violence; all fear death. Putting oneself in the place of another, one should not kill nor cause another to kill.

All tremble at violence; life is dear to all. Putting oneself in the place of another, one should not kill nor cause another to kill.

Of course, being human, 'Buddhists' are just as likely to commit acts of violence as anyone else; but I don't think their violent acts can be attributed to the Buddha's teachings or to Buddhism in general, and much of the collective use of violence by Buddhists hasn't historically been religiously motivated.

The recent war in Sri Lanka, for example, was an ethnic civil war between the predominately Sinhalese government and a predominately Tamil separatist militant organization. This was a conflict that had its roots in the British colonization of Sri Lanka (Ceylon) and their importation of Tamil labourers from southern India to work in tea, coffee and coconut plantations (see Sri Lanka time line).

In regards to the corrupt military junta that rules Burma (Myanmar) with an iron fist, many of which are nominally Buddhist, none of their actions can be traced to the Buddha's teachings; it's all about holding political power at all cost. Moreover, it's been the Buddhist monks in Burma who have actually lead the largest nonviolent protests against the brutal and corrupt regime to date (see Saffron Revolution).

As for the abuse of Burmese refugees by Thai authorities, there's simply no excuse for that, but I think it stems more from Thailand's fears of Burma's military and their reliance on shared gas pipelines than anything else. The Thai authorities simply don't want to do anything that might antagonize Burma's ruling junta, which is a shame since this lack of compassion is directly opposed to the Buddha's teachings.

In the case of the Japanese Buddhists during WWII, much of their pro-nationalistic and pro-militaristic stance was influence by Japan's samurai warrior culture, which, taking elements of their native Shinto religion and Zen, and combining them with bushido (way of the warrior), lead to a religious philosophy that was able to justify (and even glorify) the use of violence.

That said, it's often assumed that Buddhists must be strict pacifists. But the Buddha never forbade kings or soldiers, even those actively engaged in warfare, from becoming lay-followers, so it certainly wasn't a requirement (although he certainly didn't approve of their actions, either). He also didn't say that one shouldn't defend oneself when necessary. Buddhism is nothing if not pragmatic, and it's understood that we're potentially going to be confronted with situations where we may feel the need to, or automatically react with, some level of violence and force. That's one reason there's no offense for a monk who, "trapped in a difficult situation, gives a blow 'desiring freedom'" (Pc74).

Nevertheless, pacifism as a baseline for conduct is definitely inline with the first precept and the principle of harmlessness. In fact, I think Thanissaro Bhikkhu makes a pretty good case for this in his essay "Getting the Message." Matthew Kosuta also makes a good case for this in his paper, "The Buddha and the Four-Limbed Army: The Military in the Pali Canon."

does the tathagata exist after death?

If you were to ask the Buddha whether the Tathagata [a synonym for 'arahant' and an epithet for the Buddha] exists after death, doesn't exist after death, both exists and doesn't exist after death or neither exists nor doesn't exist after death, the Buddha would answer, "That has not been declared by me."

When pressed further, the Buddha would counter by asking you whether form, feeling, perception, mental fabrications and consciousness are constant or inconstant. If you were to answer constant to any of these, he'd probably proceed to give you a discourse on the aggregates and dependent co-arising. If you were to answer inconstant, then he'd ask you whether it's proper to regard what's inconstant, stressful and subject to change as: "This is mine. This is my self. This is what I am."

If you were to answer yes, he'd probably proceed to give you a discourse on the not-self characteristic. If you were to answer no, then he would ask whether you regard form, feeling, perception, mental fabrications or consciousness as the Tathagata.

If you were to answer yes to any of these, he'd remind you that all these phenomena are inconstant and not fit to be called 'me' or 'mine.' If you were to answer no, then he'd ask whether you regard the Tathagata as being in form, feeling, perception, mental fabrications and consciousness, or elsewhere than form, feeling, perception, mental fabrications or consciousness.

If you were to answer yes to any of these, he'd remind you that all these phenomena are inconstant and not fit to be called 'me' or 'mine.' If you were to answer no, then he'd ask whether you regard the Tathagata as form-feeling-perception-fabrications-consciousness [i.e., taken together], or as that which is without form, without feeling, without perception, without fabrications, without consciousness [i.e., without any relation to the aggregates, and by consequence, the sense bases].

If you were to answer yes to the former, he'd remind you that these phenomena are inconstant and not fit to be called 'me' or 'mine.' If you were to answer yes to the latter, he'd probably ask you on what basis you'd make such an assertion since the description of such a self lies beyond the range of explanation. If you were to answer no, then he'd say, "So, my friend — when you can't pin down the Tathagata as a truth or reality even in the present life — is it proper for you to declare, 'The Tathagata exists after death', 'The Tathagata does not exist after death', 'The Tathagata both exists and does not exist after death' or 'The Tathagata neither exists nor does not exist after death'," and proceed to give a discourse such as this:

"In the same way, an uninstructed, run-of-the-mill person — who has no regard for noble ones, is not well-versed or disciplined in their Dhamma; who has no regard for men of integrity, is not well-versed or disciplined in their Dhamma — assumes form (the body) to be the self, or the self as possessing form, or form as in the self, or the self as in form.

"He assumes feeling to be the self...

"He assumes perception to be the self...

"He assumes (mental) fabrications to be the self...

"He assumes consciousness to be the self, or the self as possessing consciousness, or consciousness as in the self, or the self as in consciousness.

"He does not discern inconstant form, as it actually is present, as 'inconstant form.' He does not discern inconstant feeling, as it actually is present, as 'inconstant feeling.' He does not discern inconstant perception... He does not discern inconstant fabrications... He does not discern inconstant consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'inconstant consciousness.'

"He does not discern stressful form, as it actually is present, as 'stressful form.' He does not discern stressful feeling... He does not discern stressful perception... He does not discern stressful fabrications... He does not discern stressful consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'stressful consciousness.'

"He does not discern not-self form, as it actually is present, as 'not-self form.' He does not discern not-self feeling... He does not discern not-self perception... He does not discern not-self fabrications... He does not discern not-self consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'not-self consciousness.'

"He does not discern fabricated form, as it actually is present, as 'fabricated form.' He does not discern fabricated feeling... He does not discern fabricated perception... He does not discern fabricated fabrications... He does not discern fabricated consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'fabricated consciousness.'

"He does not discern murderous form, as it actually is present, as 'murderous form.' He does not discern murderous feeling... He does not discern murderous perception... He does not discern murderous fabrications... He does not discern murderous consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'murderous consciousness.'

"He gets attached to form, clings to form, & determines it to be 'my self.' He gets attached to feeling... He gets attached to perception... He gets attached to fabrications... He gets attached to consciousness, clings to consciousness, & determines it to be 'my self.' These five clinging-aggregates — attached to, clung to — lead to his long-term loss & suffering.

"Now, the well-instructed, disciple of the noble ones — who has regard for noble ones, is well-versed & disciplined in their Dhamma; who has regard for men of integrity, is well-versed & disciplined in their Dhamma — does not assume form to be the self, or the self as possessing form, or form as in the self, or the self as in form.

"He does not assume feeling to be the self...

"He does not assume perception to be the self...

"He does not assume fabrications to be the self...

"He does not assume consciousness to be the self, or the self as possessing consciousness, or consciousness as in the self, or the self as in consciousness.

"He discerns inconstant form, as it actually is present, as 'inconstant form.' He discerns inconstant feeling... He discerns inconstant perception... He discerns inconstant fabrications... He discerns inconstant consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'inconstant consciousness.'

"He discerns stressful form, as it actually is present, as 'stressful form.' He discerns stressful feeling... He discerns stressful perception... He discerns stressful fabrications... He discerns stressful consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'stressful consciousness.'

"He discerns not-self form, as it actually is present, as 'not-self form.' He discerns not-self feeling... He discerns not-self perception... He discerns not-self fabrications... He discerns not-self consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'not-self consciousness.'

"He discerns fabricated form, as it actually is present, as 'fabricated form.' He discerns fabricated feeling... He discerns fabricated perception... He discerns fabricated fabrications... He discerns fabricated consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'fabricated consciousness.'

"He discerns murderous form, as it actually is present, as 'murderous form.' He discerns murderous feeling... He discerns murderous perception... He discerns murderous fabrications... He discerns murderous consciousness, as it actually is present, as 'murderous consciousness.'

"He does not get attached to form, does not cling to form, does not determine it to be 'my self.' He does not get attached to feeling... He does not get attached to perception... He does not get attached to fabrications... He does not get attached to consciousness, does not cling to consciousness, does not determine it to be 'my self.' These five clinging-aggregates — not attached to, not clung to — lead to his long-term happiness & well-being."

Karmastotle

In reading these three articles by Ken McLeod: Karma, Karma and Growth and Karma Doesn't Explain Anything, I find it interesting how he seems to compare karma to Aristotle's ideas regarding phusis (physics or nature in the ancient Greek sense) and kinesis (motion or growth), even going so far as to utilize the same acorn/oak analogy used to illustrate the distinction between potentiality (matter) and actuality (form) in Metaphysics.