genealogy

Article
Non-Violence, Asceticism, and the Problem of
Buddhist Nationalism
Yvonne Chiu 1,2
1 Strategy and Policy Department, U.S. Naval War College, Newport, RI 02841, USA; [email protected]
2 Hoover Institution, Stanford University, Stanford, CA 94305, USA; [email protected]




Received: 19 February 2020; Accepted: 25 August 2020; Published: 16 September 2020


Abstract: Contemporary Buddhist violence against minority Muslims in Myanmar is rightfully

surprising: a religion with its particular moral philosophies of non-violence and asceticism and with
its functional polytheism in practice should not generate genocidal nationalist violence. Yet, there are
resources within the Buddhist canon that people can draw from to justify violence in defense of
the religion and of a Buddhist-based polity. When those resources are exploited in the context of
particular Theravāda Buddhist practices and the history of Buddhism and Buddhist identity in Burma
from ancient times through its colonial and contemporary periods, it perpetuates an ongoing tragedy
that is less about religion than about ethno-nationalism.

Keywords: nationalism; Buddhism; Theravāda; non-violence; asceticism; polytheism; Burma; Myanmar

What accounts for a non-violent religion’s turn to nationalist violence? This question is prompted
by persistent and shocking genocidal violence by Buddhist groups in Myanmar (Burma) against
minority Muslim Rohingya over the past decade.
In the West, the virulence with which religion and nationalism converge is associated primarily
with the fervor of Abrahamic religions, which only heightens the incongruence of Buddhism’s teachings
of and reputation for non-violence with grotesque uses of force in its name.
I argue that Buddhist nationalist1 violence in Myanmar should be both more and less surprising
than it is, and address two major elements of Buddhist philosophy at the root of this incongruity:
non-violence and asceticism. To be clear, Buddhism is not unique in espousing these philosophies—these
elements can also be found, singly or in some combination, in various strands of all the other major
world religions (Hinduism, Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Sikhism)—but Buddhism is the only major
religion whose dominant strands make both philosophies the centerpieces of its belief system.
This article first looks at the precept of non-violence in Buddhism and the function of asceticism in
overcoming inevitable human suffering and avoiding the entrapment of worldly concerns, and discusses
these philosophies in light of historical texts and experiences. Then, it explores these elements within
the context of Theravāda Buddhism in colonial Burma and contemporary Myanmar.

1. The Precept of Non-Violence and the Philosophy of Pacifism

Buddhism’s first precept is to avoid killing any living being, not just people but even the most
insignificant of animals. This pushes adherents toward vegetarianism, of course, as well as pacifism,
and this precept is commonly interpreted to prohibit suicide, abortion, euthanasia, and capital
punishment. Yet, the resulting positions—vegetarianism, anti-abortion, pacifism, etc.,—are not

1 In this article, I rely on Anthony D. Smith’s definition of nationalism as “an ideology and a movement, seeking to attain
and maintain autonomy, unity, and identity for a social group deemed by some of its members to constitute an actual or
potential ‘nation’” (A. Smith 1999, p. 46).

Genealogy 2020, 4, 94; doi:10.3390/genealogy4030094 www.mdpi.com/journal/genealogy

Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 2 of 17

absolutes. For example, Buddhists are not to intentionally harm animals, but if mendicant monks who
beg for their food are given meat, they are permitted to eat it so long as the animal was not slaughtered
specifically to feed them.
The Buddha’s directive of non-violence intends to guide individuals in their moral development:
it helps free people’s minds from thoughts and emotions that would prompt violence as much as
it directs them to act in accordance with empathy that all beings fear death. While the precept of
non-violence is commonly interpreted to mean pacifism and the rejection of warfare, the edict is
complex. Buddhism does overwhelmingly reject the use of violence; but non-violence as a political
and social philosophy—pacifism—is a separate matter, and there, Buddhist doctrine and history are
more ambiguous.
Buddhist lore, for example, is not devoid of violence or warfare. The Ārya-Satyakaparivarta,2
an early3 Indian Mahāyāna Buddhist sutra of some influence, describes various kings as righteous,
including the legendary Aśoka and King Hars.a who killed tens of thousands of non-Buddhists.4
After Aśoka, in India, converted to Buddhism in the 3rd century bce, he rejected future violent conquest,
decreeing that:

all my sons and grandsons may not seek to gain new [military/territorial] victories, that in
whatever victories they may gain they may prefer forgiveness and light punishment, that
they may consider the only victory the victory of Righteousness, which is of value both in
this world and the next . . . [From Thirteenth Rock Edict]5

Yet, domestically, Aśoka never abolished the death penalty.6

Other works, including influential Theravāda text Milinda Pañha (circa 2nd century bce), interpret
some acts of violence and punishment as resulting from one’s karma and consider the actor who
imposes violent punishment a mere facilitator of that karma.7
Far from being completely pacifist, Buddhist teachings make some allowance for war, albeit under
limited conditions, including first attempting to win through intimidation rather than actual force,
trying to capture enemies alive, and not harming non-combatants or those who have surrendered or
are fleeing.8

1.1. Religious Competition, Political Realities, and Geopolitical Pressures

Although the Pali canon recounts the Buddha as a compassionate tamer of animals, the epic poem
Mahāvam 9
. sa (“Great Chronicle”, written in the 5th or 6th century ce) calls the Buddha a “conqueror”
who forcibly expelled the powerful but sometimes dangerous nature-spirits (yakshas, yakkhas,10
or yakkas) from the Lanka island by cursing them with “devious afflictions”, in order to prepare the
land for the later introduction of Buddhism; this story is frequently interpreted to justify defensive war
to protect Buddhists.11
This mythical tale reflects a historical truth, however, that there is vigorous competition between
religions for a population’s devotion; individualistic religions, too, will attempt to convert adherents

2 Complete name: Ārya-Bodhisattva-gocara-upāyavis.aya-vikurvān.a-nirdeśa Sūtra.

3 Timeframe of origin is uncertain, but it was cited by another work by 2nd century ce.
4 (Jenkins 2010).
5 (de Bary 1972, p. 53).
6 (de Bary 1972, p. 54).
7 (Jenkins 2010, pp. 64–65).
8 (Jenkins 2010, p. 67).
9 (Geiger 1912) This Pali-language chronicle of Ceylon (modern-day Sri Lanka) was written in the 5th or 6th century ce,
and recounts the history of Buddhism.
10 Not to be confused with the Yakkha people, an indigenous ethnic group on the Indian subcontinent (mostly in modern-day
Nepal and India).
11 Sinhalese Buddhists will also refer to the canonical Cakkavatti Sı̄hanāda Sutta to justify defensive war. (Bartholomeusz 2002,
p. 22).
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 3 of 17

and even non-violent religious groups will resort to assault to secure their dominance. The Gelug sect,
for example—the prevailing strand of Mahāyāna Buddhism in Tibet and the school of the Dalai Lama,
whose contemporary incarnation has a sterling reputation for his teachings on ethics, compassion,
and non-violence—fought extensively with competing sects in the 14th through 16th centuries to
become the principal religious order in the region.12 Militancy in Buddhism has, unfortunately,
ample historical precedence.
Religious competition can take place at the levels of individual and/or private proselytization
and does not have to be political in nature, but the realities of political society and social attachments
mean that it often becomes so. Like other religions, Buddhism can both be exploited by political
forces or attempt to exploit available political tools, and religious practice commonly intertwines with
political goals.
For centuries after Aśoka, in kingdoms run by adherents of Theravāda Buddhism, political
and religious elites promoted the interdependence between the political entity’s strength and the
religion’s well-being. To defend the religion, therefore, one must also—perhaps, first—defend the state,
and textual evidence can be found for this position and for defensive wars.13
To that end, Buddhist monks in many societies throughout history have been known to serve in
various political positions, and have sometimes developed prayers and rituals for the well-being of the
nation or country.14
Buddhism is hardly the first or last religion to be co-opted for political purposes, and like every
other faith, it has varied practices and diverse doctrines. So one finds many stories of compassion and
pacifism—but militancy and violence are also available in the history and literature for people to draw
on if they so wish.
In the contemporary period, Buddhists continue to grapple with the dilemma posed by
non-violence in the face of unavoidable geopolitical pressure, which has sometimes led them to
massage the doctrine to accommodate.
For example, during the Sino-Japanese war (1930s–1940s) and the Korean War (1950–1953),15
Buddhism struggled to come to terms with authoritarian government mandates and became entangled
with nationalism, for example when the threat from Japanese invasion superseded existing conflicts
between Buddhist orders and the Chinese government (including over property seizures, taxes,
and religious freedom), and Buddhist survival became dependent on China’s national survival. Some
Buddhists thought they could better protect Buddhists and Buddhist institutions by working with the
government, and were driven by pragmatic calculations of survival to reinterpret sacred texts to argue
for compassionate killing.16
In the 1970s, communist victories in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia spawned a militant
anti-communist Buddhist nationalist movement in Thailand, led by monk Phra Kittivuddho, whose
“Nawaphon” movement considered it a monk’s sacred duty to defend the Thai nation and religion with
violence if necessary. His slogan “Killing Communists is Not a Sin” was an exception due to national
emergency, he contended, as communists were “not complete persons” but rather “destroyers of

12 As calculating as it may be to put it in these terms, religions compete with each other for “market share,” and they will
use violence to both expand their presence and protect their membership. For example, (McCleary and van der Kuijp
2010) found that the Gelug religious sect operated like a “club” in that it sought to generate benefits for members through
greater participation and size of membership. It utilized doctrinal innovation—including imitating its major competitor the
Karmapa sect by creating an incarnate Dalai Lama and developing its own unique practices such as allowing only ordained
abbots, in order to reinforce religious activity and monastic community—and, in the absence of a political authority, fought
and killed in order to become the monopoly religion and thereafter maintain “club benefits” for its members.
For more on the Gelug school’s historical rise to prominence, see also (Maher 2010). On club models of religion and
“participatory crowding”, see also (Iannaccone 1992).
13 (Walton and Hayward 2014, p. 21; Bartholomeusz 2002).
14 See, e.g., (Yu 2005, pp. 54–55).
15 (Yu 2005; Yu 2010).
16 (Yu 2005, pp. 52–53).
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nation, religion, or monarchy who are bestial”; and he also offered a form of “double effect” argument
in advising that monks “must not intend to kill people, only to kill the Devil” presumably residing
within the offenders.17

1.2. Double Effect

Pacifism does not mean passiveness, for Buddhism mandates not just refraining from evil
deeds (discipline), but also doing good (kindness, compassion) and benefitting others through skillful
means (“Text of Bodhisattva Disciplines”, Yogācārabhūmi Śāstra).18 Acts must be judged by both the
motivating intentions (compassion for saving others or even the person being killed) and the ensuing
consequences.19 This opens the door to properly-motivated utilitarian calculation: for example, one story
of a bodhisattva who saved 500 merchants by slaying dozens of pirates is commonly interpreted to
mean that one is permitted to kill “with compassion in order to save many” (一殺多生, yisha duosheng).20
There remains, however, innate tension between the act of killing (and the politics that often
entangle it) and fundamental Buddhist ethics such as non-violence. In a move that should be familiar
to scholars of Christian just war theory, resolution is attempted by focusing on the compassionate
intent with which one should wage war. There is, various sūtras say, merit in suffering and sacrificing
oneself and one’s worldly comforts and wealth for the sake of protecting one’s family or other living
beings: for example, says the Ārya-Satyakaparivarta, when “the action [is] conjoined with intentions of
compassion and not abandoning”, then warfare may become meritorious.21
These doctrinal developments do not satisfactorily resolve the inherent tension between violent
act and Buddhist principle any more than the doctrine of double effect reconciles the same problem
in Christian just war ethics; many adherents of both religions would agree with this statement, even
as some of their co-religionists take up arms for various causes. The parallel doctrinal elaborations,
however, show that religious creeds have always struggled with the demands of human society, and I
will return to this in the discussion of Burma/Myanmar.

2. Asceticism to Overcome Human Suffering

The practice of rigorous self-discipline or self-denial appears in many religions and can take
different forms, including meditation, fasting, and isolation; its primary purpose is to overcome the
confines of human nature and the suffering that inevitably follows from it.
Of the different Buddhist schools, the Western world is probably most familiar with Mahāyāna,
which dominates northern Asia (especially Tibet, Taiwan, Korea, and Japan), or secondarily with
Vajrayana, which is mostly practiced in India. Theravāda is the major strand in southeast Asia
(Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, Burma, Sri Lanka). All three schools share core Buddhist beliefs,22
including the Four Noble Truths: life inevitably entails suffering, which is caused by ignorance and
unsatisfied craving and can breed vices such as anger, hatred, greed, and envy; this suffering can
only be alleviated with enlightenment and overcoming of desire, which is achieved “by a course
of carefully disciplined and moral conduct, culminating in the life of concentration and meditation
led by the Buddhist monk.”23 This process is the Eightfold Path to Enlightenment, which entails

17 (Rackett 2014).
18 (Yu 2005, pp. 48, 224n11–12).
19 (Yu 2005, p. 50).
20 ((Yu 2005, pp. 48, 224n13: Āgamas, Fo hai deng 佛海燈 Land of the Buddha-Sea, v. 2 n. 4 (1937): pp. 3–6)).
21 (Jenkins 2010, pp. 68, 74n34).
22 These major branches of Buddhism differ in significant ways, as well. Theravāda Buddhism is grounded in the extensive
and varied Pali canon, which includes some works of uncertain origin but is generally considered to have derived from the
Buddha and his own disciples. The canon is usually divided into “three baskets” (Tipitaka): the Basket of Discipline (Vinaya
Pitaka) covering the rules of the sangha and its monks and nuns, the Basket of Discourses (Sutta Pitaka) recounting Buddha’s
teachings, and the Basket of Higher Teachings (Abhidhamma Pitaka) providing philosophical and scholastic underpinnings
and explanations, each of which consist of multiple works.
23 (de Bary 1972, p. 9).
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 5 of 17

right understanding, right thought, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right
mindfulness, and right concentration; these eight paths fall into three different themes—conduct,
mental development, and wisdom.
To help one follow the Eightfold Path to Enlightenment,24 the Pali canon advocates dhutanga
(renunciation), whose accompanying practices include wearing only robes of secondhand clothing,
fasting intermittently, eating only food offered as alms, living in seclusion or away from people and
distractions, and living simply by sleeping anywhere that can be used as a sleeping place, among
other behaviours.
Dhutanga is not required for all people, but it is common for laity to adopt some of its measures
temporarily, whether in the letter of dhutanga or with actions in the spirit of its guidance. In Theravāda
practice, including in Myanmar, many if not most males become novice monks for a period of time.25
The path to enlightenment is ultimately a personal one, and the earliest Buddhist monks were
“wandering mendicants” and thus more individualistic, as they were not part of “orders” in the
sense of being in organized communities.26 Buddhist monks eventually formed groups, however,
which yielded both internal hierarchies amongst the monks as well as a structure for relating to the laity.
With society comes not only social hierarchy but also physical infrastructure such as temples.
While Buddhist temples are intended to inspire and promote practices that can lead to enlightenment,
they—like most religious architecture—have evolved in ways that inadvertently promote the
achievements of men. In part, this is because religion is only one of many claimants on society,
and even individualistic, ascetic religions can be used as vehicles for exerting influence on others.
Here, one broad difference between Mahāyāna and Theravāda is worth noting: Mahāyāna doctrine
encourages everyone, including lay people, to reach Enlightenment and to follow the Bodhisattva’s
Eightfold Path by also teaching others, because aspirations for mere personal liberation from earthly
impurities and wanderings can be selfish. (This process often includes lay people entering retreats.)
Doctrinally, Mahāyāna is more spiritually-egalitarian.
In contrast, Theravāda thought focuses on meditation and one’s own achievement of arhat and
subsequent freedom from rebirth after death, which has the tendency to exclude laity from achieving
arhatta.27 In comparison to Mahāyāna practice, these aspects of Theravāda doctrine might lend itself
to greater hierarchy and tribalism. (These are relative differences, of course, and we will see how
Theravāda Buddhism in Myanmar attempts to bridge the gap between clergy and laity).

3. Limits of Ascetic Withdrawal from Worldly Societal Concerns

Buddhism originated partly in response to existing social and political circumstances: Buddhist
doctrine rejected the Hindu caste system by deeming the different classes and castes all equal, because
men achieve respect with their moral virtue and spiritual merit, and not by accident of birth. It also
denied the divine right of kings and monarchical divinity, as sovereign legitimacy depends instead on
one’s ability to protect and lead the people.28
Obviously, this had limited effect in practice. Buddhist aloofness from society sits in tension with
political demands and natural social attachments, and even the Buddha could not escape this dilemma:
there is a canon story in which the Buddha, although he had already renounced his place in and ties to
the Śakya clan into which he was born, once rushed to the clan’s assistance and put himself in danger

24 Despite the precept of non-violence in Buddhism, some might interpret certain ascetic practices such as fasting as doing
violence to one’s body in pursuit of liberating one’s mind, e.g., (Olson 2014).
25 See fn97 on temporary novitiation practices.
26 (D. Smith 1965, p. 5).
27 (Katz 1989, p. 280).
28 (de Bary 1972, p. 45).
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 6 of 17

in order to protect his kin from attack by the kingdom of Vaisana (Ekottarāgama, chap. 26), and he was
saddened and disturbed when the clan was later destroyed.29
Both physical and spiritual withdrawal from society should follow from renouncing its existing
social and political structure. But despite the apolitical essence of Buddhist doctrine and its emphasis
on individual enlightenment, Buddhist monks eventually formed communities with each other and
organized over time. In a sense, these monastic communities function as substitutes for familial and
tribal communities, and it is not uncommon for monks who give up their family names to consider
themselves “sons” of the Buddha—to enter into his lineage, so to speak. Especially in community form,
even ascetic Buddhism must come to some accommodation with broader society’s social and political
arrangements, and sometimes draws from those structures to do so.

3.1. Syncretizing Social Influences

Religious doctrine is often perceived as a Platonic Form—a timeless and immutable idea that
transcends and shapes the essence of objects on this earth—but religious insights are also influenced
and manipulated by circumstances, and religious doctrines and practices evolve over time as people
contest them. One common adaptation is accommodation with existing folk and pagan religions
in various ways, perhaps by scheduling major holy days to coincide with events that are already
significant (e.g., Jesus was unlikely to have been born on December 25, or even in the winter).

3.2. Functional Polytheism and Its Influences

Buddhism, too, is influenced by external forces: in contemporary practice, Buddhism is a moral
philosophy to which a syncretic polytheistic religion became attached. This is more obvious in
Mahāyāna practice, for example, in which Bodhisattvas are worshipped in addition to the Buddha.
In contrast, Theravāda deifies the Buddha while all others aspire to become arhats, but it still acquires
polytheistic elements in practice when it mixes with animism, as in Myanmar, where ancestors,
spirits, and personified universal forces (nats) are given supernatural abilities and worshipped within
Buddhism.30 So even if Buddhist doctrine constitutes a moral philosophy more than a religion, it would
be a disservice to ignore the functional polytheism with which it is often practiced.
Given the non-violent and ascetic content of Buddhist credo, one might assume that any such
deviation from pure doctrine would largely explain Buddhist turns to nationalist violence. But religions
do not operate by doctrinal content alone.
I argue that the merger with folk religion should counter-intuitively mitigate against Buddhist
absolutist violence, because an overlying polytheism may serve as a structural check. In polytheism,
gods come in all different kinds: there are “high gods” who created the universe, gods that look after
more or less literal realms (e.g., sky, ocean, winds, hearth, other gods), gods that inhabit even the
smallest of things (e.g., trees, reeds, animals), and gods of abstract concepts (e.g., fate, love, wisdom,
compassion, justice).
While there have always been gods who accept or advocate violence in their service, the call
to arms is even more threatening when it comes from moralizing gods, who will punish moral
transgressions between human beings. Moralizing gods appear in some local religions as early as
2800 bce, but they spread more widely during the Axial Age (1st millennium bce) and in the post-Axial
Age with Zoroastrianism, Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam, in response to the growth of large societies

29 (Yu 2005, pp. 53–54).

30 Anawrahta Minsaw, the first king of a united Burma (1044–77 ce), helped ease the imposition of Theravāda Buddhism on
his people by officially promulgating the assimilation of 37 nats into Buddhist worship. The admixture continues to this
day, but recently to the increasingly violent consternation of some fundamentalist Buddhists, bearing some resemblance to
ongoing anti-Muslim campaigns there (Economist 2019).
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 7 of 17

of around one million or more people, and their accompanying social complexity.31 When violence
is condoned not to appease the gods’ personal interests but rather to fulfill some mandate of earthly
justice and morality, it can take on particularly dangerous, millenarian forms.
Disagreement among moralizing gods, however, can mitigate this by demonstrating the possibility
that one’s preferred god (and therefore oneself) might be incorrect in the moral judgment. This is
only possible where there are multiple gods within a religion, even if those gods sit in hierarchical
relationship with one another.32
Monotheism, in contrast, does not require that its one god be infallible, but that is the dominant
approach to monotheism.33 Polytheism’s inherently competitive structure permits gods to be mistaken,
whether they are moralizing or not; after all, they will disagree with each other, and they cannot all be
right all the time.34
The syncretic plethora of gods disagreeing with each other and therefore demonstrating reasonable
pluralism within the structure of the religion itself should naturally raise doubts about the absolutism
of any religious proclamation. Gods in polytheistic universes compete and/or overlap in their
jurisdictions. Few, if any, of them are omni-anything: omniscient, omnipresent, or omnipotent. As a
result, although polytheistic religions have no shortage of moral precepts, no single answer and
few absolutes are possible. Both circumscription and circumspection are built into the structure of
polytheistic religious belief.
Do polytheistic religions actually yield less nationalist religious violence, however? Knowing
the history of Hindu nationalist violence (e.g., pre-partition and contemporary India) and Buddhist
nationalist violence (e.g., Myanmar today), it is a difficult claim to make—save for the comparison to
monotheistic nationalist violence, which has seen arguably even more brutality against both adherents
of other religions and those who interpret their shared religion differently (e.g., sectarian vendettas
between fellow Christians or fellow Muslims).35

4. Religion as Lived Experience

Circumstances sometimes render it impossible for religion to avoid political entanglement, through
no fault of the religious adherents, especially with the effective monopoly of nation-states on forms of
legitimate political organization in modern international politics.

31 The association between large, complex societies and adherence to moralizing gods has long been noticed, but the causality
has been difficult to determine; recent research, however, shows that moralizing gods and their “prosocial” supernatural
punishment have followed large increases in a society’s social complexity (at around a population of one million), rather
than the other way around, perhaps because they help sustain and order those societal intricacies and reduce free-riding
(Whitehouse et al. 2019).
32 Because monotheistic religions’ gods tend to be both “high gods” and moral arbiters, they are more easily co-opted for
extreme moralistic judgments, and the violence that can accompany them.
33 Fallible monotheism is a decidedly heterodox approach. For example, (Segal 2007)’s interpretation of the Old Testament is
considered radical, because he portrays God himself developing, learning, and changing his ways through the course of his
struggles with humanity, e.g., when Abraham tries to persuade God to uphold a justicial principle of sparing the innocent
and challenges God to be a just deity, both of which God does not immediately take onboard (Joseph’s Bones, pp. 58–69).
34 For example, both deities and demons fought wars against each other in ancient Greek, classical Roman, and Hindu mythology.
35 Theocratic political rule is likelier to emerge when the religion in question is monotheistic. (Coşgel and Miceli 2013) found
that theocracies are more likely to be established where religion can serve to legitimize the state and where the society’s
religious market is monopolized by one dominant religion. They found that monotheism alone seemed to be a robust (but not
necessarily statistically significant) factor in contributing to the development of theocratic rule; although, unsurprisingly, if
the ruler was also considered a god, then the results became significant. They speculate that the insignificance of monotheism
alone as a factor may result from the scarcity of monotheistic religions in their sample, constituting only 8% of the ancient
polities in their dataset, as the effect of monotheism became clearer and more consistent when looking just at contemporary
societies, after the development of the major monotheistic religions.
I would maintain that one reason monotheism becomes a significant factor once it develops as a serious competitor to
polytheistic religions is because the structure of monotheism functions equivalently to monopolizing the religious market.
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 8 of 17

Buddhism has other-worldly and inner-worldly, as well as world-rejecting, principles and

practices,36 and while it advocates freeing oneself from natural desires and earthly temptations and
suffering, it does not fall into nihilism,37 so its practitioners must find a way to live in this world.38
All non-nihilistic philosophies of asceticism (e.g., Buddhism, Stoicism) advise people on how to live in
and engage with the world, and that generates internal tensions that are perhaps easily exploited by
political interaction.
So it should disappoint, but not surprise, when non-violent religions resort to force: they, too,
compete not only within themselves, as we have seen, and with other religions, but also with other
objects of allegiance and centers of power, including familial, tribal, and political units.
For example, during Cambodia’s short-lived Khmer Republic (1970–1975), general-turned-
president Lon Nol, who seized power in a military coup, cultivated a reputation as a devout Buddhist,39
and his regime sought legitimacy against both monarchical and communist challengers by employing
Buddhist iconography and public displays of Buddhism and by claiming support from the country’s
two major Buddhist sects (Mohanikay, Thommayut).40 A crucial difference between Myanmar today
and Cambodia then, however, is that Buddhist monks in Cambodia during that time were only
“passively” important politically,41 as “it was mostly the army that did the killing then—Buddhist
monks were not leading the charge there”,42 in sharp contrast to present-day Myanmar.
Other examples of militant, nationalist Theravāda Buddhism include aforementioned Thai monk
Kittivuddho’s anti-communist Nawaphon movement in the 1970s, as well as the ongoing persecution
the largely-Hindu Tamil population in Sri Lanka by the predominantly-Buddhist Sinhalese, especially
by Bodu Bala Sena (BBS) and other nationalist organizations. Sri Lankan Buddhists sometimes interpret
the epic Mahāvam . sa to claim that the island of Sri Lanka itself is sacred because the Buddha made
three “magical” visits, clearing and unifying the island by force in anticipation of the introduction of
Buddhism there after his death, and therefore, the island is the Sinhala sacred home in a way that ties
the territory to Buddhist religion.43

4.1. Religion, Nationalism, and Modernity

All religions can be manipulated for nationalist purposes. Ironically, Donald Eugene Smith argues
that Buddhism’s lack of worldly attachments may render it more susceptible to nationalism: while
Hinduism and Islam, for example, have their own primary loyalties (Hinduism to caste, Islam to
the caliphate), Buddhism has none.44 All three religions have been exploited in various nationalist
struggles, but perhaps Buddhism’s doctrine does not save it from that fate as one might expect, because
it does not offer any worldly alternatives to nationalism.
As Peter Mentzel notes, scholars of nationalism have long debated its relationship with religion,
and the very definition of “nation” remains contested.45 Despite modern nationalism originally arising
partly as an anti-religious force, and despite the most influential early sociologists (Durkheim and
Weber) placing nationalism in a secular, modern context, the modern nation-state has been far from

36 Weber’s traditional ideal types of religion would put Buddhism in the class of mysticism, but this does not encapsulate
the complexities of Buddhist thought and practice. Furthermore, in practice, Buddhism can manifest as polytheistic,
monotheistic, pantheistic, or not theistic at all.
37 For example, it does not advocate suicide.
38 Mahāyāna doctrine especially advocates trying to improve the world and help others along the path to enlightenment.
39 (Kann 1970).
40 (Whitaker 1973, p. 188; Harris 2008, p. 166).
41 (Whitaker 1973, p. 188).
42 (Kiernan 2019).
43 (Bartholomeusz 2002, p. 20).
44 (D. Smith 1965, pp. 82–83).
45 (Mentzel 2020).
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 9 of 17

necessarily or primarily secular46 and its nationalism is often intimately connected with religious belief
even when it is not explicitly religious in nature.
Modernity does not secularize society by ridding it of religion, but rather transforms the objects and
purposes of religion as ways with which people search for meaning.47 Some theorists of nationalism
conceived of it as a distinct and secular “civic” or “primordial” identification (Geertz 1973) and
thought that it would lead to the marginalization or disappearance of religious worldviews (Gellner
1983). However, nationalism and its object, the nation, have turned out to be more contingent and
malleable. Instead of nationalism being “engendered by nations” as “enduring collectives”, nationalism
operates more as a “practical category”, “as contingent event”, or “as cognitive frame” (Brubaker
1996).48 Nations emerge out of a complex of elements, including shared myths and religious beliefs
(A. Smith 2000), and some have traced nations and nationalism to pre-modern origins (Hastings 1997;
Grosby 2005), which would tie them even more closely to their associated religions.49
In practice, nationalism can be and certainly has been religiously-based,50 but conceptions of
religious nationalism can vary widely, ranging the spectrum from civic religion to radical religious
nationalism. Entanglement between religion and nationalism in modern nation-states can blur the
distinctions between civil identity and primordial identity51 (especially if the civil identity is not itself
fully secular in practice), and can lead to conflating these two identities.52

4.2. Modern State Capacity

Another factor to consider is that the rigidity of territorial boundaries in a geopolitical landscape
dominated by modern states can combine with modern religious nationalism to tie that religious
sentiment to territory in a more inflexible manner; it is not an actual return to pre-Axial age “monolatry”,
in which each nation and its land has its own distinctive god,53 but it can be experienced that way and
can enhance the mutual influence that religion and polity have on each other.
The modern state’s greater capacity to exercise more extensive reach into the lives of its population54
than traditional or pre-modern polities possessed, as well as its monopoly on the use of legitimate
violence within its borders, will lend itself to greater political and cultural separation between people
of different states, and it will tend to funnel societal issues through a nationalist lens that may coincide
with state boundaries. When religious impetus is further added to a state’s potential reach and
parameters (whether the state is a full-fledged theocracy or merely has strong associations between
religion and politics, e.g., legislation that favors certain religious doctrine, overlap between religions
and political authority/officials, etc.), it can generate a flammable combination. Nationalist sentiment
does not inevitably lead to violence, and the violence has never been solely motivated by nationalism;

46 (cf. Gellner 1983).

47 (Weber 1978).
48 Explains (Brubaker 1996): “We should focus on nation as a category of practice, nationhood as an institutionalized cultural
and political form, and nationness as a contingent event or happening, and refrain from using the analytically dubious
notion of ‘nations’ as substantial, enduring collectivities”. He adds that “a strong theoretical case can be made for an eventful
approach to nationness.” (pp. 19–20, 21).
49 While this article takes “national” identity and “nationalism” to be modern ideological constructs, it also follows A. Smith’s
“ethnosymbolism” in the belief that nations arise from existing ethnic foundations (with differing relative emphases on
shared language, religion, culture, history, race, etc.). What matters for the purposes of this article, however, is how Burmese
Buddhist nationalists tend to view their “nation”: they justify their nationalism by reference to “perennial” or “primordial”
origins (along the lines of Hastings 1997; Grosby 2005).
50 (van der Veer 2015).
51 cf. Geertz.
52 While distinct civil identities are most commonly found in secular, democratic states, they are possible in every type of state,
including theocracies, if there are citizens who do not share the dominant religion. (In Iran and Saudi Arabia, for example,
there are citizens of minority religions who have civil identities such that they can still say they are Iranian or Saudi).
53 (Jaspers 1953).
54 While the capability is not always used to its full extent (e.g., in more decentralized liberal democracies, and for principled
reasons), modern technology and bureaucracy give every state—even weak ones—a greater capacity to enforce on and
intervene in their populations.
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 10 of 17

but there is an undeniably strong historical correlation between nationalism and the use of violence, as
well as between religion and the use of violence.
Religiously-based nationalism in general is no longer a surprise, but the content of Buddhist tenets
means that Buddhist nationalism still confounds and Buddhist nationalist violence especially continues
to shock. Pure doctrine is often overcome when it meets societal phenomena, however, and organized
violence in the Buddha’s name in Myanmar is partly accounted for by some particular characteristics
of Theravāda Buddhism as practiced there and the history of the phenomenon of religion as lived
experience in political society.

5. Contemporary Myanmar
Religion can play a key role in “the ritual legitimacy of traditional states”,55 as modern religion
both is shaped by nationalism (as the nation-state is now the primary form of political organization)
and shapes national identity (for example as a base for anti-colonial mobilization).56 Burmese Buddhist
nationalism presents both these dual phenomena.
Buddhism has long been an integral force in Burmese society. After Aśoka’s son Mahinda,
a Buddhist monk, converted Sinhalese king Devanampiya Tissa, it expanded Buddhism’s political and
social/ethnic reach and solidified its place in Sinhalese national identity. When Theravāda Buddhism
was established centuries later (11th century ce) by Anawrahta Minsaw in the kingdom of Burma,57
it looked to Ceylon’s example for its role in society.58
Since then, for over a millennium, Theravāda Buddhism has been the dominant religion in
Burma, and there have been close ties between political and religious authority through to modern
colonization. Over time, Buddhism in Burma abandoned its individualized monastic form in favor
of more organized communities, which led to greater political control of the sangha, the Buddhist
clergy.59 Kings appointed the head of the sangha,60 many kings were considered Bodhisattvas,61 and
kings’ special role in defending and supporting Buddhist faith buttressed and confirmed their own
political legitimacy.62 Kings built monasteries, provided food and other patronage, and appointed
and supported the sangha and settled its controversies, as well as suppressed internal schisms and
heresies.63 The sangha, in turn, was involved in political life, writing the most prominent lawbooks;
some monks had governance duties; and the religious orders used their position in society to legitimize
the king.64 Overall, there was an “interdependence” between the king and the sangha,65 although
Donald E. Smith deems that the king interfered in religion more than the sangha was involved in
politics.66

5.1. Colonial Rule and Buddhist Activism

In the 19th century, Buddhists more broadly, not just in Burma, became more activist,
and “anticipat[ed] the much more overtly political Buddhism that emerges in the mid-twentieth
century. . . . the line between lay Buddhist activism and the sangha was increasingly blurred over the

55 (van der Veer 2015, p. 11).

56 (van der Veer 2015, p. 19).
57 King Anawrahta Minsaw founded the first united Burmese kingdom and empire in 1044 ce (Lewy 1972, p. 19).
58 (D. Smith 1965, pp. 9, 11).
59 (D. Smith 1965, p. 15).
60 Political domination over religious matters continues to this day, with the government’s appointment of monks to Mahana
(State Saṅgha Mahā Nāyaka Committee), which was formed in 1980 to regulate the clergy.
61 (D. Smith 1965, p. 22).
62 (Lewy 1972, pp. 20–21; D. Smith 1965, p. 23).
63 (D. Smith 1965, p. 27).
64 (D. Smith 1965, pp. 31–32).
65 (D. Smith 1965, p. 37).
66 (D. Smith 1965, p. 36).
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 11 of 17

course of the twentieth century (Seneviratne 1999; Tambiah 1992),” and this represented an “important
shift in the public role of Buddhism,” says Harshana Rambukwella.67
Even before Burma’s colonial occupation began in 1824, the idea that Buddhism was being
“restored” to its rightful place in Burmese society had emerged. For example, Pali, which is Theravāda
Buddhism’s liturgical language, appears in and influences much of Burmese language, which only
augments the association of Burmese identity with Buddhism.68 This does not mean that Buddhism is
the root cause of Burmese nationalism, but “rather, it provided an essential component in a national
self-concept which helped differentiate the Burmese from the foreigner”, says Donald E. Smith.69
Argues D. Smith, Burmese nationalism was more than simply anti-British and anti-colonial,
as “traditional Burmese nationalism was based, among other things, on a common race, language,
and religion.”70 Historically, non-Buddhists in Burma were considered alien, thus excluding them from
Burmese identity, even under colonialism and into the periods of secular nationalism associated with
Marxism or with Aung San’s Thakin movement.71
During colonial rule, Buddhism remained an integral force in civil society and took on a
different form, as politically-oriented monks engaged in strikes, political agitation, and other
independence-minded action—both peaceful and violent—from the 1920s onward, and continued
alongside the more secular nationalist movement that emerged in the 1930s.72,73 Anti-colonial parties,
which included Buddhist monks, sometimes targeted Muslims and Christians under British colonial
rule (which began in 1824, but formally lasted from 1886–1948) as well as the ensuing short-lived
parliamentary government (1948–1962), and during the military dictatorship (1962–2012).74
Buddhist identity was also co-opted to bolster political legitimacy: for example, the ostensibly
socialist military junta that came to power in 1962 via coup tried to ground its socialist platform in both
Marxist dialectics and vaguely-Buddhist doctrine,75 especially with its references to man’s relationship
with nature and its three material, animal, and phenomenal worlds.76 So ethnic conflict with religious
overlay is not new to the recently-parliamentary Myanmar.
Post-dictatorial Burmese nationalism further conflates with Buddhist religious identity by justifying
violence against non-Buddhists as fighting ethnic insurgency and eliminating illegal immigrants.77
Thus, Burmese nationalism emerged both gradually under British colonial rule and in response to
an event (democratization), to use Brubaker’s framework, and has long intertwined with Buddhist
religion as an identifying marker.

5.2. Religious Nationalism Under a Constitutional Republic

In the contemporary period, Theravāda Buddhism continues to provide a significant framework
through which Burmese view politics.78 Today, nearly 90% of Myanmar’s population is Buddhist,
almost all of them Theravāda, although Buddhism has only briefly been Burma’s official state religion.
In 1961, Burma’s constitution was amended to make Buddhism the official religion and to provide
significant financial support to Buddhist institutions, and Prime Minister U Nu passed the State

67 (Rambukwella 2018, p. 42).

68 (D. Smith 1965, p. 83).
69 (D. Smith 1965, p. 86).
70 (D. Smith 1965, pp. 84, 112).
71 (D. Smith 1965, pp. 113, 115–16).
72 (Lewy 1972, pp. 25, 28–37, 37–40).
73 Due to their interest in religious rule, many politically-active monks sided with the Japanese during World War II, to their
detriment after the war (Lewy 1972; Hobbs 1947).
74 (Walton and Hayward 2014, p. 6; Hobbs 1947).
75 (Walton 2016, p. 30).
76 (Burma Socialist Programme Party 1963).
77 (Walton and Hayward 2014, p. 6; Walton 2013; Ibrahim 2016).
78 (Walton 2016; Schober 2011; Jordt 2007; Houtman 1999; Spiro 1970; Sarkisyanz 1965).
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 12 of 17

Religion Promotion Act which mandated the teaching of Buddhist scriptures in schools and prisons;79
but this was largely undone shortly afterward by General Ne Win’s military coup.
Myanmar’s new constitution (2008)80 provides for freedom of conscience and the free profession
and practice of religion “subject to public order, morality or health or the other provisions of this
constitution” (Art. 34), and it “recognizes” that some of its population currently practice Christianity,
Islam, Hinduism, or Animism (Art. 362).
At the same time, Buddhism occupies a “special position” in Myanmar as the religion of
the overwhelming majority (Art. 361), and the religious freedom accorded does not extend to
religiously-related “economic, financial, political or other secular activities that may be associated with
religious practice”81 and the government may curtail religious freedom in accordance with “public
welfare” (Art. 360).
In 1998 and 2007, groups of Buddhist monks mobilized politically against the military government,
and they have continued to be active on a variety of issues (e.g., illegal land seizures, environmental
protection) since the latest transition to more democratic rule. Unfortunately, this activism has included
pogroms against Muslims (and especially the Rohingya)82 in what is called the “969 movement”,
driven by a variety of forces but most prominently by the Patriotic Association of Myanmar, commonly
abbreviated as MaBaTha (A-myo Batha Thathana Saun Shauq Ye a-Pwe, “Organization for the Protection of
Race and Religion” or “Committee for the Protection of Nationality and Religion”).83 Their claims about
not just personal safety but also the security of the Buddhist religion and Buddhist community (sasana),
and therefore the state as a political entity as required for enlightenment,84 echo historical Burmese
conceptions of Buddhism’s place in politics and the status of non-Buddhists as discussed above.
Despite nearly 90% of the Burmese population professing adherence to Theravāda Buddhism,
the perceived Muslim threat from its 4.3% of the population is often couched in existential terms, as a
menace to the very existence of Buddhism. “If a man dies, it is acceptable, but if a race or religion dies,
you can never get it back”, some Burmese Buddhists will say as they justify their fears that Muslims
will ultimately “swallow our country” as they expand beyond the borders of Rakhine state.85 In this
way, Muslim Rohingyas are seen and portrayed as a dual existential threat to both polity and religion.86

79 (Crouch 2015). U Nu deemed it a governmental responsibility to care for the population’s present and future existences,
which required that Buddhism be made the state religion (D. Smith 1965, pp. 25–26).
80 (Constitution of the Union of the Republic of Myanmar 2008).
81 I.e., freedom of conscience under the Myanmar constitution only covers the ability to hold a belief in one’s own head, but
does not come with freedom of associated actions (e.g., the right to set up a religious charity or welfare association).
82 Myanmar’s 2014 census identified 4.3% of its population as Muslim; up to 2% are Rohingya, whose “non-enumerated”
population was controversially only estimated rather than counted by the census. (Republic of the Union of
Myanmar—Department of Population, Ministry of Labor, Immigration, and Population 2016; Lynn 2016) Until 2017,
the total Rohingya population, which has borne the brunt of the anti-Muslim attacks, was approximated to reach 1.3 million.
Since recent government-sanctioned pogroms against the Rohingya began in 2016, however, up to 1.1 million have fled to
refugee camps in neighboring Bangladesh.
The long-Muslim Rohingya claim that they are indigenous to the area, while the Myanmar government says they illegally
migrated during the colonial period from now-Bangladesh, considers them Bengalis, and denies them citizenship and
proper documentation, thus rendering them effectively stateless. About 80% of Rohingya lived in the state of Rakhine, on
the western coast. (There are other Muslims—including some Indian, Chinese, Malay, and others—as well as most Kaman,
who also primarily live in Rakhine but are formally recognized as an ethnic group by the Myanmar government and who
hold citizenship.)
83 While the Association may mean “ethnicity” where it says “race”, its context is Myanmar’s peculiar classification of races
and ethnicities. Myanmar recognizes eight “major national ethnic races” that are grouped primarily by geographic region,
with each race comprised of a subset of the 135 recognized “ethnic groups”. Along with several others, the Rohingya are not
among the recognized ethnic groups.
84 (Walton and Hayward 2014, pp. 17–23).
85 (Beech and Nang 2019; Freeman 2017).
86 Even religions that reject worldly constraints will develop practices for adherents to demonstrate the sincerity of one’s
convictions (Weber, “Religious Communities”, Economy and Society), and that necessarily injects social functions, practices,
and institutions into those religions. Unfortunately, social reinforcement around bigoted and discriminatory movements
often involves engaging in violence as ritualistic proof of commitment, such as is commonly found, for example, in criminal
gangs everywhere, such as The Lord’s Resistance Army (central Africa), etc.
The communal action (Gemeinschaftshandeln) of religion (Weber 1978, p. 399) has its own structures and laws
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 13 of 17

To date, the Myanmar government rejects the existence of “Rohingya” as an ethnic group
and does not mention their name in denying genocide attempts against them. In State Counsellor
(prime minister) Aung San Suu Kyi’s address to the International Court of Justice (Hague) on 11
December 2019, she rebuffed charges of genocide, arguing that, at most, any violence might constitute
“disproportionate force” but that it was part of “cycles of inter-communal violence going back to
the 1940s”.87 In addition to government-sanctioned pogroms and gender-based violence against the
Rohingya, the 2015 Population Control Healthcare Law permits local authorities to enforce a mandatory
36-month “birth spacing” between children that is understood as an attempt by Buddhist nationalists
to prevent a “takeover” by Muslims, who have higher birthrates.88
As a country, Myanmar has endured harsh oppression by colonial and domestic rulers alike and
substantial upheaval in the transitional interstices, including recently. International observers often
focus on the religious identities espoused in the conflict between Buddhist and Muslim Burmese,
and while it is important to take the agents’ own claims at face value initially, the repeated and
persistent violence by Buddhists against minority Muslim Rohingya over the past decade appears to be
less about religious competition strictly speaking, and rather seems inseparable from ethno-nationalist
motivations. The former should prompt serious attempts at converting others to one’s religion, for
example, while the latter would provoke feelings of existential danger that lead more to expulsion,
pogroms, and/or genocide, as we are seeing there.
Breaching Buddhist precepts of non-violence in defense of Buddhism has historical, liturgical,
and doctrinal precedent, and the need to prevent Burmese Buddhist social and cultural erosion or
elimination in the face of modernity and political change89 can operate in the minds of its proponents
somewhat like “supreme emergency” justifications in contemporary just war theory—the idea that one
must sometimes violate the principles in order to save them.
Buddhist doctrine adds its own twist to that “supreme emergency” problem, however, because
doctrinally, the fate of the sasana is to slowly disappear. That does not do much to alleviate worldly
anxiety now about sasana’s future disappearance,90 but this is the least of the inconsistencies between
doctrine and practice.
One pressing question is why ethno-nationalist Buddhists groups in Myanmar have systematically
waged violence against minorities to such an extent. A large reason has been the role of clerics
in Myanmar in legitimating and encouraging nationalist sentiment, and especially the MaBaTha
organization, which appeared to operate not only in conjunction with but also as a front for the
military.91 Some recruits to MaBaTha were, ironically, monks who had been arrested during the 2007
Saffron Revolution,92 and were paid in money and state patronage to join and promote MaBaTha’s
anti-Muslim campaigns.93
Here, too, the state is not monolithic: there is an ongoing power struggle between the former
dictatorial ruler (the military), which supported MaBaTha, and the new political parties for which it
reluctantly (and incompletely) stepped aside. MaBaTha was banned in 2017 after three years,94 by
Aung San Suu Kyi’s administration on the grounds of hate speech, and an arrest warrant was issued for

(Eigengesetzlichkeit) with a logic of their own (Klaus Lichtblau, Hans Kippenberg) and whose rationality does not necessarily
reference justice or correctness.
87 (Simons and Beech 2019; Birnbaum and Mahtani 2019).
88 (Republic of the Union of Myanmar 2015; White 2015; Deutsche Welle 2015).
89 Modernization can corrode traditional communities and their values, while political change such as globalization,
secularization, and economic development may eventually challenge Buddhism’s primacy in Myanmar society. See also,
e.g., (Gravers 2015).
90 (Walton and Hayward 2014, p. 25).
91 (Ibrahim 2016, p. 70).
92 From August through October 2007, there were broad, non-violent protests (including by monks, whose colored robes came
to represent the movement) against the ruling military junta’s removal of subsidies on the fuel supply it monopolized.
93 (Ibrahim 2016, p. 70).
94 MaBaTha reconstituted itself as the Buddha Dhamma Charity Foundation, which was similarly outlawed in 2018.
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 14 of 17

extremist Buddhist monk Ashin Wirathu for sedition against Suu Kyi. At the same time, the military,
MaBaTha, and Suu Kyi’s administration seem to find common cause in the denial of Rohingya ethnic
identity and their marginalization as illegal immigrants who cannot be Burmese citizens.95
To further complicate Myanmar’s situation, the people themselves are not unified: there are
Buddhist groups on both ends of the spectrum from MaBaTha, such as Buddhists who have assisted
and protected Muslim Rohingya, as well as the Arakan Army, comprised of lay Buddhists in Rakhine
state fighting against the government and other Buddhists for an autonomous state and who officially
welcome those of other races and ethnicities to join their nationalist insurgency.96
Here, recall Theravāda Buddhism’s tendency toward excluding the laity in pursuit of enlightenment.
In Myanmar, monastic orders attempt to alleviate Theravāda’s lesser attention to the laity and to
create a bridge to them by playing a significant role in male education: in Theravāda practice, many if
not most males become novice monks for limited periods.97 The shinbyu ceremony, which inducts
young males into temporary monkhood, “both exalts the ideal of the monastic life and denies it
absolute separation from the life of the laity”, says D. Smith.98 As he describes it, this practice of
temporary monkhood does as much to keep the Burmese population attached to Buddhist religion as
the other way around, to keep Buddhist elites tied to the population. It is somewhat ironic that this
widespread ritual of temporary monkhood meant to alleviate the hierarchical tendencies of Theravāda
also broadens and strengthens the Myanmar population’s investment in the Buddhist aspects of its
identity, which are now being used to violently expunge non-Buddhists from the Burmese nation.
***
Buddhism is hardly the only moral philosophy and religion whose practices can deviate violently
from its tenets. Religious doctrines can and usually do differ from religion as a lived experience,
as every religion has demonstrated many times over. Even similarly ascetic moral philosophies such
as Stoicism have seen their adherents struggle terribly with their duties, perhaps most famously
Marcus Aurelius.
One reason those internal contradictions get lost is because most religious adherents, having been
raised in a particular religious faith, are immersed in their own inconsistencies between doctrine and
practice, such that they usually do not notice them or have found practical accommodation with them.
When they encounter other religions, however, the gap between doctrine and practice can seem glaring,
because the alien religion’s precepts are treated as reified doctrine instead of living philosophy and
evolving practice.
Buddhism’s non-violent and ascetic principles are fundamental to the religion, and their peaceful
effect should only be reinforced by its functional polytheism in practice, so it can be especially difficult
(for many Buddhists as well) to acknowledge that Buddhism plays a role in Burmese nationalist
violence against the Rohingya.
A muscular Buddhism is not unheard of, but attempts at genocide are especially shocking.
Some would try to explain this by making “problematic distinctions between ‘true’ Buddhism and
Buddhism corrupted by its contact with politics.”99 Yet, the resources for violence—including in
defense of the religion and associated polities—are available in Buddhist canon and history from not
long after its birth, so if corruption is to blame, then the thread of that defect is long.

95 (Ibrahim 2016; Beech and Nang 2019; Radio Free Asia 2017).
96 (Emont 2019).
97 Males become temporary novitiates (sāman.era) in these societies for many reasons, including to accumulate religious/spiritual
“merit” for themselves and for others, and there is variation within Southeast Asia on the practice. In Burma/Myanmar, for
example, usually boys will novitiate, sometimes for only a few days, and they can temporarily return to monkhood later
as married men, whereas in Thailand, older boys or young men will commonly become monks for three-month periods.
This practice is far less common in Sri Lanka (Gombrich 1984; Samuels 2013).
98 (D. Smith 1965, p. 19).
99 (Rambukwella 2018, p. 42).
Genealogy 2020, 4, 94 15 of 17

This combines with the particulars of Theravāda practice in Myanmar and the role and exploitation
of Buddhist identity from ancient Burmese history through colonial and contemporary times to
contribute to the ongoing atrocity. The persistence of current anti-Rohingya campaigns show that even
non-violent religions and moral philosophies are not immune to and can be overtaken by political
influence and nationalist sentiment and the violence they can engender.

Funding: This research received no external funding.

Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest.

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