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Who Gets Buddhism 'Right'? Reflections of a Postcolonial 'Western Buddhist' Convert

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In a recent article by Jarni Blakkarly, he generously featured my thoughts on the ethical role of faith, our capacity to relate to others with trust or "good faith," in supporting Buddhist practice.

One criticism that was made, however, is that I am projecting ethnic bias onto Buddhist teachings. So I want to take this occasion to consider this allegation more carefully, so as to invite collective reflection on the ongoing but often unrecognised historical and political-ideological contestations that have conditioned the ways in which Buddhism - especially, the emergent "Western Buddhism" - is understood and articulated today.

Let me attempt to do this by sharing my experience of and historical research into Buddhism as a postcolonial "Western Buddhist" convert, one whose pursuits of Buddhist teachings and academic cultural research are reciprocally informed.

From Christianity to atheism to Buddhism

Growing up in Singapore I self-identified as Christian, though my level of interest and participation in the church varied over time. I presume I would have recognised, on some level or another, the "Western" cultural cachet that came with being a Christian convert.

In any event, I was always aware of the social mobility that my preference for Western forms of cultural expression afforded me. I experienced this advantage in the ease with which I wielded the English language in school and social settings (English is the primary, institutional medium of communication in Singapore, though the "mother tongues" of the main ethnic groups are taught in school as a compulsory second language). But this advantage was also a source of ambivalence and tension, one example being accusations of being a "banana" - that is, yellow on the outside but white on the inside.

Then, in what I presume is not an uncommon story, I became disenchanted with Christianity in my late teens as I learned about atheistic, socio-cultural and political criticisms of institutional religion. And so I distanced myself not only from Christianity but also from the traditional forms of Chinese Buddhism that were a part of my diasporic ancestral heritage, but toward which I had always related with considerable ignorance if not outright cringe. For I had been taught from a young age to be wary of the supposedly superstitious practices of my late grandmother who would sometimes slip me a small amulet she acquired from the temple for my blessing. But I always accepted her gift, not least because it was usually accompanied by small amounts of money - how does one refuse such a gesture of love, anyway?

But over the past twelve years or so, my ignorant, habitual cringe towards traditional forms of Buddhism has become a cause for regret. I migrated to Australia in 2002 to pursue undergraduate studies and shortly after discovered Western translations of Buddhism along with a passion for academia. In the time since, I have come to realise how my pursuit of Buddhism could have been so much richer if I only had a better understanding of the cultural knowledge and practices of my ancestral heritage. Sadly, due to lack of use I have lost much of my ability to read Chinese and converse in Mandarin, even as my engagement with Western interpretations of Buddhism has made me increasingly curious about traditional Chinese sources of the teachings.

So my first reaction to the accusation that I am projecting a kind of ethnic bias onto Buddhism was one of mild amusement and, I must admit, a degree of annoyance. These are feelings that I have had repeatedly to confront as a postcolonial subject - one who traverses the insider/outsider dividing lines of multiple sides to at once inherit and betray the religious and secular legacies of the East and West (and this is not really a matter of "choice" since, like everyone else, my birth name and the language and culture in which I am raised, come before me and are received by me without my choosing; hence, a responsibility).

Thus, I remain unsure of what ethnic position of bias I am guilty. Is it my Christian-missionary schooling, which influenced my embracing of Westernised cultural sensibilities from a young age? Or is it my lapsed Christianity and turn to atheist outlooks during my late teens and early twenties? Or is it my engagement with Western interpretations of Buddhism over the past ten years alongside my study of certain French continental philosophers?

To be sure, I am not discounting the possibility that my thoughts on Buddhism have, in fact, been shaped by certain historical and cultural conditionings - I freely admit as much. But my question is, whose engagement with Buddhism hasn't?

To invite more informed reflection on this question, I sketch briefly below the portraits of selected historical figures whose works were influential in the development of the trend known as Buddhist modernism, a trend catalysed by the excavation and translation of Buddhist texts under the colonial circumstances of the nineteenth century. Buddhist modernism refers to an ongoing process by which Buddhist teachings and formations attune themselves to the conditions of modernity shaped by Western paradigms of thought and sociopolitical organisation. (I gratefully acknowledge my indebtedness here to the work of historians like Donald Lopez, Jr., David McMahan and Judith Snodgrass.)

A brief history of Buddhist modernism

Let me begin with T.W. Rhys Davids (1843-1922), whose work in translating Pali texts for a Western audience was highly influential in recasting the tradition as a largely ethical and philosophical system free from religiosity and ritual. Rhys Davids's interpretation of Buddhism built on and supplanted the early work of Reverend Spence Hardy, who interpreted the shared iconography of the Buddha across Asian cultures through Christian lenses.

Just as the biography of Jesus was central in Christianity, Hardy regarded the task of writing a biography of the Buddha as a necessity if the true meaning of his teachings were to be extracted from Buddhist texts. However, unlike biblical writings, Buddhist texts were composed for very different purposes and did not present any unambiguous life narrative of the Buddha that would adequately meet Western criteria for a biography.

But this did not stop Hardy and others from writing a biography of Gautama Buddha. Rhys Davids's work carried on this project of humanising the Buddha. Shaped by the progressive spirit of the age, Rhys Davids's writings reflected a desire in European culture of the time to find alternatives to Christian morality. As eminent Buddhist scholar Richard Gombrich has noted, "Rhys Davids ... naturally stressed the rationalist elements in Buddhism, because they formed the most striking contrast to Christianity." The translation of nibbana (in Sanskrit, nirvana) as "Enlightenment" was arguably popularised by Rhys Davids's work, and it is suggestive of his attempt to align Buddhism with European outlooks.

"Enlightenment" is, of course, accepted in both specialist and lay discourses today as the standard translation of the Buddhist soteriological goal. The literal meaning of nibbana, however, is "extinguishment" or "blowing out" (like a candle flame). Rhys Davids's use of "Enlightenment" in place of the literal translation of "blowing out" or "extinguishment" was perhaps an attempt to redress prevailing misconceptions of Buddhist outlooks as nihilistic. But given that the title Buddha ("the Awakened One") derives from the abstract noun bodhi (from the root verb budh, "to awake" or "become aware"), a more accurate alternative translation of nibbana would be "Awakening."

That the translation of nibbana as "Enlightenment" rolls off our tongues so easily today is, perhaps, indicative of the lasting impact of the colonial aligning of Buddhism with Eurocentric paradigms.

Another figure to consider is Henry Steel Olcott who, together with the co-founder of Theosophy, Helena Blavatsky, travelled to Ceylon in 1880 where they became the first known "Western Buddhist" converts. Olcott had initially professed poor knowledge of Buddhism, expressing a desire to learn from the Buddhist elders in Ceylon. But inspired by the writings of Rhys Davids, he quickly took it upon himself to educate the Sinhalese about "authentic" Buddhism, which he always distinguished from the "ignorant superstitions" of vulgar rites and rituals, which he insisted were "totally at variance with the Buddha's precepts." Olcott soon produced the Buddhist Catechism which, as the title suggests, is presented in the question and answer format of Christian catechisms.

Buddhist Catechism was disseminated in a curricular environment organised around the Buddhist Theosophical Society and Buddhist secondary and Sunday schools. This effectively initiated Western-style Buddhist education in Ceylon, and Buddhist Catechism remains in use in some Sri Lankan schools today. So while Olcott denounced the Christian missionaries in Ceylon, it appears that his Protestant upbringing had continued to influence his actions, for the model of Buddhism he promoted reproduced distinctive features of liberal Protestantism.

While I have mentioned two Western figures, the situation in Ceylon should also alert us to the fact that Buddhist modernism is a co-creation of Asians, Europeans and Americans, and is not just a Western construct. For the emergence of Western discourses prompted a process of reformation or revivalism in the traditional Asian Buddhist cultures of Burma, Ceylon, Thailand, China, Japan and Korea during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. For example in Ceylon, Sinhalese Buddhists appropriated Western discourses as well as features of Protestantism to restore Buddhist and national pride against colonial hegemony.

Buddhist historians have described this movement as "Protestant Buddhism" because it was both a protest against and mimicry of Protestant missionaries (and the colonial power behind them). In Burma the revivalism of Buddhism was likewise linked to nationalist sentiments, where the laicisation of meditation practice and a new emphasis on personal spiritual cultivation supported the push for postcolonial independence. By the time of Burma's independence in 1948, a mass lay meditation movement had been established and it continues to play an integral role in the legitimisation of Burmese sovereignty today.

We might note in passing here that the contemporary interest in Buddhist-inspired contemplative exercises partly reflects the legacy of Protestant Buddhism - that is, the shift from monastic authority to personal spiritual cultivation - and the laicisation of meditation practice. This is most evident in non-sectarian approaches to Insight Meditation and, for better or worse, the widespread adaption of mindfulness across various settings, including the performance enhancement programs of Google and the United States military.

Returning to colonial Ceylon, another figure to consider is Anagarika Dharmapala, a leading spokesperson of the Sinhalese Buddhist revival. Born Don David Hewaviratne to an English-speaking upper class family in Colombo and educated in Catholic and Anglican mission schools, he adopted the name "Dharmapala" after meeting Olcott and Blavatsky in 1881. While Dharmapala initially allied himself with the Theosophists, he would eventually denounce them, finding their universalising mixture of Buddhist ideals with Hindu understandings unacceptable. Perhaps recognising how their endeavours belie a will to power not dissimilar to those of Christian missionaries, he would accuse Olcott of betraying Buddhism and the Sinhalese cause.

Dharmapala argued for the superiority of Buddhist thought over Western thought, asserting that, while the West was materialistically advanced, the East was abundant in spirituality. In so doing, he effectively reinforced the Romanticist and Orientalist stereotypes of the "mystical' and "exotic" East, but not without also turning the discourses of the colonial West against itself. It was with this rhetoric that Dharmapala impressed his audience at the Parliament of the World's Religions in Chicago in 1893, a key event that introduced Buddhism into the American cultural imagination.

Another noteworthy figure in attendance at the Parliament was Shaku Soen, a Japanese Zen monk who was part of a delegation representing "Eastern Buddhism." According to the Orientalist favouring of the "original" teachings of the Buddha, the Mahayana tradition had been regarded as an "adulterated" version of Buddhism, given its historical distance from the earliest extant texts of the Pali Canon. The prevailing criticism of Mahayana Buddhist formations was that they were ill-suited for the modern scientific age, since they involved "superstitious" activities like the ritual veneration of deities. Drawing on their experience and knowledge of Western culture, religion and philosophy, the Japanese delegates refuted such criticisms, arguing that their approach to Buddhism not only preserved the teachings of the Pali Canon, but was in fact the highest fulfilment of early Buddhist teachings and of Western sacred and philosophical thought.

It is important to underscore here that the representatives of Japanese Buddhism were not pandering to Western expectations. Their rearticulation of "Eastern Buddhism" was prompted by the Meiji Restoration, whereby Buddhism was connected with a nationalist identity and reinterpreted to appeal to the Western-educated elite of the new Japan, a means to bolster notions of Japanese cultural superiority in their bid for world-power status.

Mindfulness of history and culture

It is admittedly easy for us to observe the blind-spots and oversights of these Buddhist modernisers of the past, since our vision tends to improve quite significantly in hindsight. But my point in sharing this very truncated and sketchy overview of my historical research into the colonial legacy of contemporary Buddhist outlooks is not to find fault with any of these figures as such. Rather, it is to invite collective reflection on the question: whose engagement with Buddhism isn't shaped by historical and cultural conditionings? In revisiting these historical voices, I am reminded of what Donald Lopez says in From Stone to Flesh: A Short History of the Buddha:

"[T]he authors of the past centuries had their own standards to which they adhered with their remarkable, and often admirable, fidelity. What emerges from reading their words centuries later is not only the ability to identify what they got right and what they got wrong, but also an understanding of what they saw and thus an imitation of how they saw it ... a work of ventriloquism - an attempt to rescue the heavily accented voices of the distant past and to hear them somehow as our own."

And in thinking about the question of historical and cultural conditionings, I am reminded also of the conversations I had with an Anglo-Australian lay Buddhist convert and an Anglo-New Zealander monk at a branch monastery of the Thai Forest tradition located in Victoria. Both expressed gratitude and appreciation for certain custom and practices of the Thai and Sri Lankan Buddhist communities, saying that they would not have been able to develop a more holistic way to engage with Buddhist teachings if not for their encounters with these non-Western, non-white cultures.

So perhaps, one way to cultivate mindfulness of the historical and cultural conditionings of one's engagement with Buddhism is to enter into reciprocal relations of hospitality with Buddhists of the different Asian cultures from which we have inherited the precious Triple Gems - to forge sympathetic relations in good faith, rather than with presumptuous one-upmanship. Perhaps by learning about the different ways in which others honour this inheritance, we may come to appreciate how our preferred approach is but one of many ways to maintain fidelity - to be faithful - to Buddhist truths.

In the process we might expand our own understanding of Buddhism, and even cultivate kalyana mittata - or admirable/spiritual friendship - along the way. After all, we are told that the Buddha himself valued admirable/spiritual friendship as "the whole of the holy life."

Edwin Ng is based at Deakin University. His ongoing research explores the reciprocity between Buddhist teachings and radical thought in critical cultural theory, as well as new approaches to the study of contemporary Buddhism, especially the emergent "Western Buddhism."

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Community and Society, Religion, Buddhism