Global problem-solving: A Buddhist perspective

Unlike Muslims and Christians, contemporary Buddhists have no vision for global problem-solving. This is partly due to the fact that prior to western colonial expansion in the last century, Buddhism was divided into many schools, all of which were attached to national cultures and/or nation-states, each with subdivisions into various denominations or sects. Western Christianity, on the other hand, especially with its ties to the building of great empires such as the Roman and British empires, has evolved such that the white men’s burden includes caring for the world as a universality or Catholicism. Although Protestantism was divided very much like Buddhism, it managed to pull together, with all its differences, to work on global issues, especially since the creation of the World Council of Churches.

The spread of Islam increased side by side with Arab commercial success and the advancement of scientific knowledge, especially after the collapse of ancient Greek civilization. Although the Europeans replaced the Ottoman Empire in the nineteenth century, the rise of nationalism, pan-nationalism and economic success in the Middle East encouraged Muslims to have a more global outlook.

Although former Buddhist kingdoms in South and Southeast Asia have regained their independence from the west, they have lost the Dhammic essence of their national identities. They have retained only state ceremonies which are often more feudal than Buddhist. They blindly adhere to outmoded customs which are irrelevant to contemporary society.

Despite the fact that Siam was not subjugated politically, she was colonized intellectually, culturally and educationally. The effects of this type of colonization are almost impossible to reverse.

In East Asia, Buddhism lost much of its true essence to Confucianism or Shintoism, even before the arrival of western influences.

The lofty Buddhist spirit remains in Asia only in small pockets for individual or local development where human needs are placed ahead of material or economic gains. At the national level, most people think only in terms of economic development. Hence, the rich get richer and the poor remain so, or become poorer. This is true for nations and individuals. And of course, no one is happy. The present social development systems lead to human rights abuses, a widening gap between the rich and the poor, environmental degradation and the aggressive destruction of natural resources. Unfortunately, it seems that Buddhist development models have not been established and, overall, responses from the Buddhist communities have been insufficient to counter these negative elements.

Before attempting to deal with the above-mentioned issues, we ought to look into our Buddhist traditions to see whether such a global concern for social justice existed in the past, in order to apply it meaningfully in the present and in the future.

In my opinion, it is very worthwhile to examine the Buddhist mythological tradition regarding kingship and the universal monarch who ruled for the well-being of all. How the myth was applied by Buddhist rulers of later generations is also interesting.

The Aggana Sutta of the Digha Nikaya begins by portraying an ideal world of natural effortless existence. Ethereal, self-luminescent beings live in bliss and know no discrimination between polar opposites such as male and female, good and evil, rich and poor, ruler and subject. The earth itself is made of a delightful soft edible substance that looks like butter and is as sweet as honey.

Gradually, however, because of karma remaining from a previous world cycle, this Golden Age comes to an end. During a long period of decline manifest in the world and its beings, greed, grasping, sex, theft, violence and murder are introduced. Finally, sheer anarchy prevails, and in order to put an end to it, the beings get together to select from among their ranks a king to rule over them and maintain order. This is the Mahasommata, the Great Elect, and in return for fulfilling his functions as a monarch, the beings each agree to pay him a portion of their rice.

Such is the myth of the first kingship. The record also relates the legend of the Cakkravartin, (wheel-turning emperor), or universal monarch. A basic version of this appears in the Cakkravatti Sihandada Sutta, also of the Digha Nikaya.

This text, too, begins with a description of a Golden Age, the starting point of the world cycle. During this time, beings had beautiful bodies, life-spans of eighty thousand years, and wonderful effortless existences. This time, however, the Cakkravartin, Dalhanemi by name, is present from the beginning. He is, in fact, very much a part of the Golden Age for his presence is instrumental in maintaining the paradisiacal state. Because he knows what is good and rules through Dhamma, poverty, ill-will, violence, and wrongdoings do not exist in his domain.

Traditionally the Cakkravartin is portrayed as an extraordinary being. He is said to exhibit the thirty-two bodily marks of a Great Man (Mahapurusa) and to be endowed with the seven jewels, or emblems of sovereignty, the most important of which is the wheel (cakka). In the Sutta, this magnificent wheel appears in midair before Dalhanemi at the beginning of his reign as a sign of his righteousness. It then leads him in a great cosmic conquest of the four continents.

It takes him East, South, West and North as far as the great oceans, and, where the wheel rolls, he encounters no resistance. The power of his Dhamma, symbolized by his wheel, the Dhammacakka, is such that local kings immediately submit to him. Finally his wheel leads him back to his capital at the center of the world, and there it remains, miraculously suspended in midair over the royal palaces, as an emblem of sovereignty. After many years of reigning in peace over a contented and prosperous empire, however, Dalhanemi’s wheel of Dhamma begins to sink. This is a sign of the approaching end of his reign, according to the Buddhist law of change (anicca), and when the wheel disappears altogether into the earth, the wise king entrusts his throne to his son and retires from this world to live as an ascetic in the forest.

It is important to note that the wheel of Dhamma is not automatically passed on from one Cakkravartin to the next. Dalhanemi’s son must, in turn, prove worthy of his own wheel by calling it forth with his own righteousness. This fact sets the scene for the rest of the myth, which, like the story in the previous Sutta, traces the gradual degradation of this world and the beings in it.

After a long succession of Dalhanemi’s descendants who are perfect Cakkravartins, there comes a king who fails to follow Dhamma, and for whom the wheel does not appear. Consequently, there is resistance to his rule. Friction develops; the people fail to prosper; the universal monarch fails to support them; and one thing leads to another, as it is stated in the Sutta: “From not giving to the destitute, poverty grew rife; from poverty growing rife, stealing increased; from the spread of stealing, violence grew apace; from the growth of violence, the destruction of life became common; from the frequency of murder, both the life span of the beings and their beauty wasted away.”

The myth then goes on to trace the further decline in the quality and span of life, until a state of virtual anarchy is reached. In this respect, then, the myth of the Cakkravartin is quite similar to that of the Great Elect (Mahasommata).

Contrasting the two Suttas, one can draw different conclusions. In the former, the Great Elect is called upon only when the need for him arises. He functions as a stopgap against further anarchy, but the Golden Age itself requires and knows no king at all. In the latter, on the other hand, the ruler is a crucial part of the Golden Age. By his very presence and by his proper rule, he ensures a peaceful, prosperous, idyllic existence for all, and he will continue to do so as long as he is righteous enough to merit the wheel of Dhamma, that is, as long as he truly is a wheel-turning Cakkravartin. The conclusion one can draw from these two myths is that neither myth stops at the Golden Age, but each goes on to describe in no uncertain terms what happens when a ruler does not live up to the ideal.

The suggestion is made, therefore, that there are really two possible types of rulers. One, a full-fledged Cakkravartin, is righteous and rules according to Dhamma, and so like Dalhanemi, ensures a Golden Age. Indeed there is a saying by the Buddha, in the Anguttara Nikaya stating that “A universal monarch, a righteous and just king relies on the Dhamma. Respecting, revering and honouring the Dhamma, with the Dhamma as his standard, he provides for the proper welfare and protection of his people.” The other, perhaps not truly worthy of the title Cakkravartin, is not so righteous, fails to rule according to the Dhamma, and is responsible for a cosmic catastrophe, the degradation of the world.

These two myths have greatly influenced Buddhist monarchs in South and Southeast Asia. However, in history, Emperor Ashoka of ancient India was perhaps the only one who could really be called a Cakkravartin, if one is to accept the prevailing world view. He was the “universal monarch” who reigned as righteously as possible by extending his empire across almost all of the subcontinent.

The Sinhalese, Burmese and Siamese kings were not, in fact, Cakkravartins, but they all wished to imitate the Great Emperor, and tried their best, at least in theory, to be just and righteous. In practice, however, it is questionable whether they actually “respected, revered and honoured the Dhamma, while using the Dhamma as a standard, as a sign, as a sovereign, providing for the proper welfare and protection of the people.”