Buddhist Manifesto

WARNING: SPRINKLED WITH CAYENNE: flavorsome, aromal, but, alas, a tad vexatious.

A couple of years ago, I was talking to an editor of one of the Buddhist quarterlies. I had just had my first close look at several Buddhist chat groups. I mentioned to the editor that the variety of irreconcilable beliefs and contradictory ideas—in short, of Buddhisms—represented there was astounding. When asked to elaborate, I expressed some of the ideas you’ll find below. The editor invited me to submit an article fleshing out these ideas. So, I got to work on it. In the meantime, I posted some comments and queries on the Buddhist chat groups and blogs. My interest was in discovering whether self-professed North American Buddhists were aware of the rollicking, Wild West anything-goes nature of their American Buddhism. The replies I received were, with few exceptions, exceedingly harsh and thoughtless. I like spice, conceptual as well as gustatory. But the spice should enhance the dish being served up, not obliterate it. Anyway, I wrote the piece with some fire still in my belly, and submitted it. The editor said it was unacceptable in its current form—too spicy. I decided to keep it as is. My reasoning was this: whereas the chat groups went to one extreme (too nasty), the Buddhist quarterlies go to the other (too nice). Where’s the middle? Can we have a companionable discourse about Buddhism in America that steers between polemics and complacency? I probably missed that middle here. But I share it with you all the same. Here, have some cleansing sour cream to soothe that sting. No sting? I’m happy to hear it. Here goes…

Buddhist Manifesto
(or at least a suggestion)

An Invitation to a Thought Experiment

Glenn Wallis

Gotama was no fool. He knew what would happen. Practitioners in the future, he said, will ignore my deep but dull teachings on emptiness. They will become entranced by pretty poetic ones. It’s just like the head of a kettle drum: over time, as piece by cracked piece is replaced, nothing of the original remains. That’s how it will be with practitioners in the future; they won’t study and master my discourses. They won’t care. That’s how it will be with my deep, deep teachings (Samyuttanikaya 2.20.7). Thus spoke wise Gotama. He knew that things would change.

Change is ever-fresh; change is eager. Lovingly, change embraces all things. We all know that. So, as Gotama’s teachings spread throughout India, then Asia, and then Europe and North America, mingling always with local cultures and customs and worldviews, change tagged along like the royal astrologer.

The result? Readers of Buddhist blogs, books, and magazines know that better than most: an exotic band of Buddhisms jamming exuberantly in cultural, doctrinal, and historical accents as varied and spectacular as a Mardi Gras parade.

Buddhism. The word evokes with equal ease images of flamboyant ritualism, luxuriant creativity, byzantine philosophizing, and tranquil contemplation. Just browse the shelves at your local bookstore: There is chanting Buddhism, meditating Buddhism, painting Buddhism, therapy Buddhism, martial arts Buddhism, Hollywood Buddhism, motorcycle maintenance Buddhism; there is Mahayana Buddhism, Theravada Buddhism, Vajrayana Buddhism, Zen, Vipassana, Tantric, Dzogchen, Pure Land Buddhism; there is Japanese, Tibetan, American, Thai, and [insert country name here] Buddhism. Now, for $19.99, for a limited time only (let’s hope), you can have Buddhism-in-a-box Buddhism!

Who can deny that the myriad forms of doctrine, literature, art, and practice attending these Buddhisms have deeply enriched the lives of people everywhere? As someone who has spent the last thirty-five years exploring the Buddhist globe, from the tropical Achans to the mountainous Zens, I certainly wouldn’t. But neither can I help wondering, after all of these years: Is Buddhism an anything-goes affair? Does it know no bounds? Does it matter what the Buddha actually taught? We can dress the question in more somber tones: to whom, to what, do we, as Buddhists, owe allegiance?

Buddhas and bodhisattvas arrayed in magnificent robes, sitting majestically in their heavenly abodes — their buddha fields— exuding auras of healing light.

Magical flesh and bone, fresh as the breath of the Blessed One, efficacious as amritya, nectar of the gods.

Magnetic mantras — nembutsu, daimoku, dharani — sound tsunamis surging throughout the universe.

Ritual paraphernalia — statues, bells, a twirling wheel clutched like a crucifix in the dark.

And let us not forget those living exemplars, as charismatic and clairvoyant as the Buddha walking unscathed on an open road: Roaring roshis, shamanic lamas, wizardly tulkus, and wonder-working arahants.

I love it all! Don’t you? But can we ask: at what cost, our love? Can we ask that question? Have you ever loved without consequence?

The more time I spend regarding Buddhism, the clearer it becomes: the basic teachings of the Buddha are in dire need of rehabilitation. Rehabilitation: to return to health, to restore to a former healthy condition, to return to normal. Re-habilitate from habilitas, ability; so, re-enable. Gotama’s teaching, like the human face of the teacher himself, is vanishing. It is disappearing behind the Oz-like curtain — as shimmering and alluring as a Tibetan prayer flag fluttering in the sun — of religious Buddhism. The deep but dull teachings of the Buddha are losing their ability to do their work.

Now I have some explaining to do. I will begin by saying that I am not interested in the old philologists’ project of separating out the original (good) teachings of Gotama from later (bad) accretions. Given what we now know of the textual history of the Buddhist canons (e.g., that they are heavily edited translations of older oral compositions), that project is no longer viable. So, that’s not what this is about. This is about the first instance, the first step, the setting in motion, the basis. We say Buddhist, but on what grounds, what basis?

The basic teachings of the Buddha are those that follow from certain premises about both the teacher and the teachings. My approach here will not be to construct an intricate argument. Rather, I’d simply like to make explicit these premises. These premises are, I think, obvious, fair, and accurate. They constitute our starting point as Buddhist practitioners. I hope that my comments will make some Buddhists in America more self-conscious about their relationship to Gotama’s teachings.

My overarching premise is this: Gotama was an unsurpassed scientist of the real. He expounded with lucidity and precision (1) our human situation and (2) an effective means for awakening to that situation with clarity and equanimity. Gotama, as Emerson said of Plato “knew the cardinal facts.” He is the arrival on the human scene of an uncanny precision and intelligence; he accurately divided and defined the categories of human existence. And like all good scientists, he kept it simple.

The entire piece is on the page bar above. Here’s a pdf file: Buddhist Manifesto.

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