Buddhism and Human Rights: Points of Convergence

April 8, 2009

BUDDHISM AND HUMAN RIGHTS: POINTS OF CONVERGENCE
HOW CAN BUDDHISM CLARIFY THE MODERN VIEW OF HUMAN RIGHTS?

By TORU SHIOTSU

Associate Professor, Soka University,

Chief Research Fellow, Institute of Oriental Philosophy

Living Buddhism, 1/1/2000, p. 16

The purpose of this paper is to explore the philosophy of Buddhism from a legal, in particular, constitutional law perspective and to attempt to identify correspondences between certain Buddhist concepts, especially those found in the Mahayana Buddhist tradition, and modern human rights theory. I hope to identify issues that can contribute to the further widening and development of the discourse on human rights. This attempt is not without its difficulties. There is still a paucity of literature on the relationship between Buddhist thought and human rights; and it is difficult to find direct correspondences between the classical texts of Buddhism and modern enunciation of human rights. There is also a need for the Buddhist tradition as a whole to take full stock of its impact—both positive and negative—on the realization of human rights, including its relationship with the structures of power and control in those societies where Buddhism has been an important cultural presence.
In the case of Japanese Buddhism, the relationship between Buddhism and state authority during the Edo period (1600–1867) is especially problematical. This relationship must be acknowledged as one of collusion with the apparatus of control and oppression, in which Buddhist temples acted as agents of administrative control and this worked against the interests of human rights. This paper is an attempt to reconcile this failure (reproduced in various degrees in other cultural and historical settings) with what I perceive to be the important contributions to human rights which are equally part of the core philosophical stance of Buddhism.

From a Constitutional Law Perspective
If we examine recent trends in the constitutional law discourse on human rights in Japan, there is reason to believe that new opportunities are coming to the fore to find areas of commonalty with Buddhist thought. Specifically, the search for the basis for a new generation of human rights (such as the right to privacy) not explicitly codified in the existing constitution has sparked new debate and led to a search to clarify the basis on which fundamental human rights rest. This has meant moving beyond narrow positive law readings of specific articles and clauses and has involved questions that best fall within the realm of the philosophy of law. For example, Article 13 of the Japanese Constitution declares that “all of the people shall be respected as individuals.” From this effort, an important school of thought has emerged that identifies “human dignity” as the basis for human rights. The noted constitutional scholar, Ashibe Nobu-yoshi, for example, has stated that human rights “derive from the inherent dignity of the human being,” a view widely shared by many other scholars in the field.
The question that remains is what, in concrete terms, is “human dignity”? One answer is to be found in the natural rights tradition that finds its classical expression in the 1789 French Declaration of the Rights of Man and the Citizen: “All people are born free and equal.” As the language used makes clear, natural rights philosophy seeks to base this assertion on the existential foundation of what “is”—that we “are” born free and equal. A cursory examination of social realities, however, will find people to be both unfree and unequal, and contemporary human rights thinking has had to abandon the descriptive “is” for the prescriptive “should be.” Further, the actual content of human dignity—the integration of the qualities of freedom and equality (or the foundation for these)—has been conveyed as an ideal image of humanity encapsulated in such phrases as “personal autonomy” and “individual self-determination.”
It is, of course, not possible to offer empirical verification that these qualities in fact represent a definitive understanding of the nature of human dignity. Rather, the adoption of these qualities as ideals provides a reasonable theoretical structure on which to formulate contemporary efforts to guarantee human rights. In this instance, reason indicates that which, because of its logical consistency, can be adopted as the widely accepted consensus in human societies. In this way, we can see that the current human rights discourse within the constitutional law community has a distinctly normative thrust in that it seeks to clarify desirable ideals of human existence and behavior.
For its part, the Buddhist tradition, at least in its classical texts, contains no direct references to specific human rights, such as freedom of expression, etc. Buddhism does, however, seek to address questions such as the nature of existence and of human dignity. It should thus be possible, by focusing on their respective arguments regarding the nature of human dignity, to find points of contact between Buddhism and the normative thread of the constitutional human rights discourse.

Limitations of Institutionalized Buddhism
In seeking to verify the theoretical possibilities of Buddhism in relation to human rights, it is not appropriate to limit ourselves to merely examining the various statements found within the Buddhist canon. Rather, it is vital that we reinterpret the philosophical content of the Buddhist classics in light of modern human rights theory and the problem it seeks to address. At the same time, to be relevant, the theoretical possibilities of Buddhist thought must be clarified within the context of the tensions between those possibilities and the history and present realities of the Buddhist church. Buddhism has, of course, been an important influence in the development of a wide range of cultural traditions and any attempt to offer a comprehensive survey of the impact of that influence on the enjoyment of what we now know as “human rights” is beyond the scope of this paper. In this context, Japanese Buddhism’s relation to the structures of social control in the Edo Period offers an extreme, but not entirely unique example of the Buddhist church acting counter to the interests of human rights. What this most powerfully illustrates is Buddhism’s historical failure to transform itself and its subsequent failure to realize its potential to make positive contribution to the enjoyment of human rights.

The Parishioner System in the Edo Period
During the Edo Period, the Japanese shogunate government engaged in the ruthless persecution of Japanese Christians. The Buddhist church was enlisted in this effort, as all births and deaths were required to be registered with a Buddhist temple. In this way, the previously voluntary parishioner system of local temples fell under the control of the shogunate government, and was effectively integrated into the overall system of national administration. At the same time, the Buddhist church acquiesced in having all acts of “praising one’s own sect and disparaging others” outlawed, an effective prohibition on religious debate and propagation. In this sense the “Rules of Sect Parishioners” is emblematic. Although said by some to be a later forgery, this document demonstrates the willingness of the Buddhist church in Japan to use the name of founding shogun, Tokugawa Ieyasu, to establish a legal requirement for citizens to attend funerary and other ceremonies held at Buddhist temples. Here Buddhism abandoned its original mission of providing spiritual sustenance to people and chose instead to act as an agent of control for secular political authority. Local temples were institutionalized, in other words, as the administrative unit in most direct contact with the Japanese populace. What were the effects of this?
First, by taking a sanctioned place within the governing structure, Buddhist priests were established in a position of clear superiority to lay believers. Because the temples were the only organ that could issue, in the form of a posthumous Buddhist name, definitive proof that a person and his family were not Christian, they exercised an absolute authority over the lives of believers. (Incidentally, the abuse of these posthumous names was not limited to the Edo Period. Even in the post-war period, certain temples persisted in only issuing to so-called Burakumin posthumous names that clearly identified their bearers as Burakumin, thus contributing to the continuance of a range of discriminatory practices against the former members of Japan’s untouchable caste.)
Equally problematic is the subversion of the Buddhist theory of causation and karma. This theory, originally a teaching that posits a universe governed by an impartial law of causality, encourages people to take responsibility for shaping their own destinies. It was reinterpreted to justify oppression, as the victims of discrimination, poverty and other forms of social marginalization were told that their present unhappiness stems from evil acts they committed in past lives. What should have been a teaching of individual responsibility and empowerment thus became a teaching of predestination and disempowerment, urging people to accept the karmic inevitability of their plight.
As these examples show, institutionalized Buddhism in Japan has been accomplice to societal discrimination, providing a religious basis and justification for such practices.

A Failure to Reform
The role of Christianity in the establishment and development of the modern theory and practice of human rights is often noted. Christianity’s contributions were importantly facilitated by reforms and regeneration that issued from within the Christian church and community. As a result, there was a fundamental rethinking of the role and significance of religion in human life, the function of clerics, and relations between church and state. Although also a religion with historical roots in antiquity, Christianity, through its energetic efforts to confront and respond to the changing currents of history, was able to become an active participant in the discourse around the core problems of modernity—the emergence of the individual; the question of freedom and the national state; and, for our purposes most importantly, the enunciation of human rights and the establishment of the institutional means of protecting them.
The contrast with Buddhism, particularly in Japan, is striking. It is true that the pernicious institutions of the Edo Period referenced above no longer exist, and the postwar constitution guarantees a degree of actual religious freedom unthinkable under the Meiji Constitution (1889–1945). In this sense, Buddhism in Japan is no longer directly linked to the mechanisms of political and social control as in the past. The question remains, however, as to how far it has been intellectually liberated from the legacy and constraints of past institutionalization.
The mere fact that there are now constitutional guarantees of freedom of belief does not in itself mean that Buddhism in Japan has returned to its intellectual and spiritual roots to become an active and contributing participant in the social discourse. In this context, the observation by political scientist Maruyana Masao is relevant: Authentic freedom involves more than the mere freedom from restraint; it is the freedom to creatively generate ethical norms and standards through rational decision-making.
For Buddhist thought to contribute to the furtherance of human rights, its adherents must not be satisfied with religious freedom as mere freedom from constraint, but must view this as an opportunity for the reexamination and reformation of views and practices. This means not only making a clear accounting of the historical record, but also striving to expunge those accretions and attitudes that continue to lend support to relations of discrimination and domination. This further means undoing the state of intellectual atrophy that has resulted in Buddhism’s avoidance of active engagement in the issues of the day, the passive acceptance of prevailing social conditions and mores.Without this kind of inner-driven reformation, Buddhism cannot hope to serve as the basis for the kind of rational decision-making that can give birth to a new social order. Finally, this means not being content with the philosophical study of classical texts, but aggressively mining Buddhist thought for its rich insights into the nature of human dignity, which can enhance human rights theory and practice. Only then can Buddhists be said to be exercising the freedom to creatively generate new ethical norms and standards.
As a religion that seeks enlightenment and spiritual emancipation, the Buddhist tradition has historically been deeply concerned with the nature of human existence and of human dignity. It is here that it is possible to identify points of contact with the theories of human rights in the constitutional law tradition. Specifically, the following Buddhist concepts can be said to intersect with the idea of human dignity set out in modern human rights theory: the idea of the universal possession of a Buddha nature; the theory of dependent origination; and the teaching of karma.
Here I would like to clarify what I see as some of the points of commonalty, as well as difference, between the concept of human dignity as understood in Buddhism and in modern human rights theory.

Buddha Nature and Human Equality
Of all Buddhist doctrine, the Mahayana Buddhist teaching that all people (in fact all living beings) possess a Buddha nature perhaps bears most directly on the question of human dignity. This can also be understood as a teaching of human equality.
The religious philosophy known as Buddhism is at once what the Buddha teaches as well as a teaching by which people may themselves become Buddhas. Christian tradition, in contrast, is predicated on a God whose existence transcends that of human beings. From the Christian perspective, human dignity derives from the idea that humans were made “in the image of God,” but not because they have the potential to become God. And while Christianity asserts the equality of all people in the eyes of God, there remains, in most interpretations, an unbridgeable distance between humans and an absolute and transcendent God. The equality of all people before God is further undermined when clerics are elevated to the position of a necessary intermediary between humans and God. (This is, of course, a very broad generalization and does not attempt to address those within Christian tradition who stress the immanence of the divine.)
An even more sweeping concept of equality is set out in the Lotus Sutra and other key texts of the Mahayana tradition. The Nirvana Sutra for example contains the phrase “all living beings without exception possess the Buddha nature,” expressing the view that all people have the potentiality to attain enlightenment and become Buddhas. This teaching radically truncates the distance between human beings and Buddhas and establishes their equal capacity to become enlightened as the basis for the equality of all people.
The idea of human equality is further emphasized by the methods by which this potential for enlightenment is to be realized—which are all rooted in the autonomous efforts of the individual. Within this tradition, Buddhist monks are not granted special access to the will of the Buddha. Rather, as the Buddha himself is said to have taught, we must “realize our own salvation!” Thus, people can and must attain enlightenment through the workings of their own will, that is, through their determination to carry out an altruistic practice to alleviate the sufferings and augment the happiness of others. Identifying autonomous religious practice as the means of realizing the potential equally present in all people deepens and concretizes our appreciation of human equality.
At this juncture it is important to clarify that the idea of Buddha nature refers to the possibility of becoming a Buddha. Within the Mahayana tradition there are cases, such as the “original enlightenment” theory in the Tendai School in Japan, which assert that the idea that all people possess the Buddha nature means that they are already enlightened.
The effect of this interpretation has been to extend a blanket affirmation to present human realities, undermining the need for continuous striving toward self-improvement. This view has also had the effect of promoting an unquestioning acceptance of social conditions. When, however, Buddha nature is understood as an imminent potentiality, it inspires a critical examination of personal and social realities, and occasions the limitless pursuit of the ideal of developing the possibilities of human existence.
In the West, modern natural rights theories have had a clear impact on reality by providing, for example, the intellectual and philosophical basis for resistance to absolute monarchy and other oppressive institutions. In contrast, while the idea that all people possess Buddha nature has undergone rigorous theoretical elaborations, one can only lament the general failure to put its clear implications into practice.
Again, Buddhists cannot deny those instances when their faith has been used to provide support and fixity to conditions of social inequality under the patronage of state authority. It is clear that the historic Buddha was himself critical of social discrimination such as the caste system and struggled against various forms of discrimination and prejudice. It is vitally important that Buddhists return to that original spirit, using it as a lens for viewing present realities and giving full expression to the necessary implications of the assertion that all people, without regard to social status or economic standing, equally possess the potential to achieve a state of freedom, inner perfection, courage and wisdom.

Manifesting Buddha Nature Amidst the Concrete Realities of Life

It should also be affirmed in this context that “becoming a Buddha” does not in any sense mean to cease being human. Humans are compelled to live within their present circumstances, what might be termed the concrete realities of life. In the Mahayana tradition, it is only within the context of these realities that enlightenment or salvation is possible. This is the significance, for example, of the Chinese Buddhist Chi-i’s (T’ien-t’ai, 538–97) theory of the “mutual possession of the ten worlds.” In Chi-i’s schema, human experience can be categorized into ten distinct realms, which range from hell to Buddhahood.
These states are neither strictly subjective nor objective; they represent the subtle interaction between inner subjective processes and external objective conditions. In the Buddhist view, the individual always has both the capacity and responsibility to react positively to her or his circumstances, and to transform them. Chi-i expresses this possibility as the mutual possession of the ten worlds, meaning that each state or “world” contains within it all the other states. Of the ten worlds, the first six—Hell, Hunger, Animality, Anger, Humanity and Rapture—refer to the experiences of desire, hope, suffering and joy commonly seen in people’s lives.
In the present context, what is most important to note is that the world of Buddhahood is neither discontinuous nor isolated from the other states of life. The sufferings and delusions of the other nine worlds are considered to be integral to—even necessary for—the enlightenment of the tenth world of Buddhahood.
Buddhist tradition refers to the Buddha as one who has successfully struggled with delusion and attachment, transmuting these into awakening and truth. The ideal of Buddha-hood thus is not something apart from the realities of the world and daily life. Concretely, the universal possession of Buddha nature indicates the capacity—which all people possess—to participate in this dynamic process, to deploy wisdom amidst the trials and struggles of daily life, to discover meaning and create value, to improve themselves and their circumstances. The teaching of Buddha nature thus acknowledges the concrete realities of individual human lives while asserting that all people possess dimensions of possibility that can be termed transcendent.
Here we may note a point of distinction between the Buddhist perspective described above and the personal autonomy, which, according to constitutional legal scholarship, constitutes the foundation of human dignity. In Japan, theories of personal autonomy are said to have been largely influenced in their development by German theorists, in particular the philosophy of Immanuel Kant.(1) In Kant’s view, human dignity refers to the capacity of a person to use practical reason to make rational decisions, and to take responsibility for those decisions. This view of personal autonomy emphasizes certain abstract qualities such as reason and spirituality and is predicated on the assumption that a person is able to make full use of these qualities and capacities. It undeniably represents, in this sense, an idealization of human existence. Likewise, the social and economic conditions that facilitate this kind of personal autonomy are ignored, leaving us with an inadequate portrayal of human beings struggling to live amidst the exigencies of real life.
Thus, even if we recognize the value of an abstract conceptualization of personal autonomy, we must also understand that this can only find effective expression when it is mediated through the concrete realities and experiences of life. The teaching of the universal possession of Buddha nature, elaborated as the mutual possession of the ten worlds, emphasizes the importance of deploying human wisdom within the context of the actual problems of living and in this sense can help us arrive at the more concrete and immediate understanding of human dignity that we require.

Buddha Nature and Individuality
In looking at the teaching of the universal possession of the Buddha nature, we have seen that it can be considered a teaching of quality in that it assumes that all people equally possess the possibility of enlightenment. This does not, however, mean that all people are, in their actualities, equal, nor is it a mechanistic egalitarianism that posits sameness or uniformity as a desirable human condition. The human quality posited in this teaching is the equality of immanent potential possessed by all people. At the same time, this teaching requires that we maintain a firm respect for this potential in others as a necessary condition for realizing that potential ourselves.
Earlier we defined the Buddha nature as the ability to deploy wisdom in the process of living more fully. Since each human lives within the context of a unique set of physical, psychological and social conditions, the manner in which each person lives more fully will naturally also be unique.
Individuality here does not, of course, refer to the mere assertion of superficial difference in relation to others. One of the key Mahayana texts is the Lotus Sutra. A central image in this teaching is the dramatic emergence of a vast “treasure tower” adorned with precious jewels. This symbolizes the manifestation of the inherent capacities for wisdom, courage and compassion that all people possess. Nichiren, the 13th-century Japanese Buddhist teacher who based his teaching on the Lotus Sutra, wrote to one of his followers: “You are the treasure tower; the treasure tower is you.”With this he clearly identified that which is of highest possible value within the life of an individual.
Again, the teaching of Buddha nature emphasizes the possibility that all people can attain enlightenment. The stance here is not simply to seek to understand people in their present realities, but to secure a realm of imminent possibility. This forestalls the wholesale rejection of cases in which people are unable, for whatever reason, to fully exercise those inherent capacities. It embraces the possibility of instances in which a degree of assistance, of an either private or social nature, will enable those latent potentialities to be realized, while at the same time fully respecting the initiative and independence of the individual. This stance can help to counter the tendency to view children or people with disabilities in the limited light of their present capacity, with the attendant result of either marginalizing them or regarding them as the passive objects of charity. How societies can avoid these pitfalls and learn to regard people with diverse capacities as the possessors of universal human rights is a critical challenge, one that hinges on our basic understanding of what it means to be human. I believe that the Buddha nature teaching discussed here is an expression of maximum respect for the potential of the human being, and as such can importantly contribute to the expansion of the actual practice of human rights.

The Theory of Dependent Origination and the Critical Outlook

The teaching of dependent origination is another rich source of ideas for considering the question of the nature of human dignity. As the language suggests, this is a teaching of interdependence at the most fundamental, existential level. In the Zhong a han (Skt. madhyamagama) Sutra we find this phrase: “Because this exists, that exists. If this does not exist, that does not exist. That arises because this arises. That declines because this declines.” The basic thrust of the theory of dependent origination is that nothing exists in total independence from other things, that all things (and people) exist within the framework of relationships with other people and things. This is, in other words, a view of life that stands in contrast to all essential assertions of fixed identity. This theory has two main areas of significance for the present argument, one negative and one positive.
By negative, I refer to the denial of fixed identity. The Indian Buddhist philosopher Nagarjuna characterized all things, from the perspective of dependent origination, as being devoid of a fixed, unchanging essence. The practical implications of this are as follows: By understanding any present condition as the confluence of a multiplicity of (constantly changing) elements, we are encouraged to view reality, not as something beyond our capacity to change or influence, but something subject to human will and wisdom, which can always be changed for the better. As individuals, this teaching urges us to shed attachments to certain fixed views or modes of understanding. On the social plane, it encourages us to resist attempts to project customs, ideas and social practices as inevitable.
It arms people against the tendency to accept existing systems as manifestations of immutable “truth.”While this stance of skepticism toward present realities may correctly be termed negative, the endeavor to create something new and better always begins with the work of doubting what exists. Thus, the negative implications of the teaching of dependent origination contain the occasion for creativity. For example, no single enunciation of the experience of human dignity can be equally valid in all eras and social settings. In this sense, even human rights should not be regarded simply in terms of existing institutional arrangements for their protection, but in terms of an open-ended effort to clarify the ideas and principles that underlie them. As the Japanese constitutional scholar Higuchi Yoichi has noted, we must always interrogate the systems of human rights protection in light of the underlying ideas of human rights.

Dependent Origination: Positive Implications

The most important positive implication of the teaching of dependent origination lies in the way that it views humans, not as isolated entities, but as embedded in a fabric of coexistence. From this naturally follows an emphasis on creative interdependence. If individuals were indeed entirely independent, attention to the well being of others would indeed be “optional.” Buddhism views our profound interdependence as that which makes relations of trust and consideration essential to human survival. But it goes beyond this minimalist, survivalist stance, and asserts that the work of assisting others to develop their highest potential (their Buddha nature) is crucial to developing this potential in ourselves.
The Buddhist approach represents a fundamental critique of the concept of the “individual” and “individual rights” which forms the core of the human rights theory that grew out of the Western Enlightenment.(2) A Buddhist would thus never accept the Hobbesian(3) vision of presocial humanity as atomized beings in a world of universal conflict.While recognizing the reality of conflict, a Buddhist would not accord conflict the kind of ontological necessity that Hobbes does, but would see even entrenched cultural violence as supported by deeper, more essential strata of interdependence.
In Mahayana Buddhism, the highest ideal of human behavior is expressed in the character and the practice of the bodhisattva. This ideal contains a moral imperative to rise above the limitations of the individual ego and to act in a spirit of compassionate altruism. The actions of Bodhisattva Never Disparaging, described in the Lotus Sutra, are emblematic. In the sutra, this bodhisattva is portrayed as expressing his profound reverence for the Buddha nature he perceives in each person he encounters. He is shown persisting in his efforts to awaken people to their own limitless potentialities, regardless of the criticism, disdain or even outright hostility he encounters. His name derives from his refusal to demean or despise any person.
The essence of the Buddhist idea of compassion is found in the conscious effort to develop empathy for the sufferings of others. In other words, it is only through undertaking a practice that is demanding and profoundly challenging—such as that to which Bodhisattva Never Disparaging committed himself—that we can genuinely feel the pain of others.
In this sense, dependent origination also implies a critique of the kind of primitive, vague sense of community that would subsume individual concerns. Rather, it is an ethic of community developed and mediated through autonomous individuals clearly aware that their own highest potential can only be made manifest through committed efforts on behalf of others. Further, it is rooted in the imperative to respect the Buddha nature of each individual and work with them toward the realization of this vast inner potential.
As mentioned earlier, Buddhism adopts a deeply pliant understanding of identity, rejecting any fixed or essentialist approach to either individual or collective identity. The work of directing this interrogative gaze upon our “self”—challenging embedded assumptions about ourselves (and by implication received social prejudices)—is seen as a precondition to manifesting our own Buddha nature. The work necessitates developing empathy and respect for others and the potentials implied by their possession of Buddha nature.
I believe that this Buddhist stance can successfully shore up the core weakness of a human rights theory that, as mentioned, is predicated on the abstract notion of the “individual” and the putative equality of all individuals. The problem, of course, is that people are not, in fact, equal—not in their physical or mental capacities, or in wealth, status or social standing. Thus, the emphasis on respecting the will of the individual is meaningful only for those who are adequately empowered in the above senses. In the face of the manifest inequality of social relations, the abstract and blanket assertion of equal rights can only have the effect of reinforcing those relations; permitting the powerful to maximize their strengths while the disempowered are left to fend for themselves as best they can.
Buddhism is not, of course, the only voice questioning the ideology of unrestrained individualism. The science of ecology, for one, finds in the example of the interdependence of natural systems a fertile basis for questioning the limitations of individualism. John Rawls’s(4) theory of justice is a renowned example of an outlook that does not deny individualism, but seeks to address and correct its failings in the search for genuine community. Expanding on Immanual Kant’s categorical imperative that the humanity of each person must always be treated as the objective and never as a means to another end, Rawls proposes a new sense of community. He insists that those who have been blessed by nature, and who are aware of this, can only profit from their happiness to the extent that they work to improve the conditions of those who are not blessed with similar talents and capacities.
Rawls’s “sense of community” offers a valuable perspective from which to rethink a theory of human rights that remains heavily weighted toward abstract, disembodied individualism. The Buddhist idea of dependent origination, and the profound and essentially creative interdependence that it posits, can offer an important resource for developing a theory of human rights that is both more balanced and more closely follows the contours of life as it is actually lived.

Dependent Origination and Environmental Rights

One of the distinguishing aspects of dependent origination is that it applies not only to relations between humans but embraces relations between humans and nonhuman nature. As mentioned, many schools of Buddhism assert that Buddha nature is something possessed by all sentient beings. Chinese and Japanese forms of Buddhism, in particular, go even further, claiming that even insentient life forms, such as plants and trees, as well as the very earth itself, are capable of attaining enlightenment. Since the natural environment itself is seen as endowed with the infinitely precious Buddha nature, this acts as a powerful injunction against the wanton exploitation or destruction of nature by humans. The 8th-century Buddhist teacher Chan-jan (Miao-lo) elaborated a theory on the indivisibility of subject (self) and object (surroundings). This can be transposed to the relationship between humans and the natural environment, in which case it demonstrates the necessity for a relationship of creative symbiosis between people and nature.
In terms of human rights theory, the right to a healthy natural environment has been posited as an element of a new generation of human rights. This has yet to be supported, however, by either a clear theoretical consensus or a body of judicial precedent. When courts have ruled, redress has been limited to those cases in which humans suffered important damages. In other words, to the extent that the right to a healthy environment has been recognized, the locus of the right has been humans and their interests. The idea of nature itself as the subject-possessor of rights at this point remains only a distant theoretical possibility. Present human rights thinking offers scant resources with which to construct a more sweeping theoretical and practical structure of environmental rights, a gap that I believe these Buddhist concepts can help fill.

The Teaching of Karma: Autonomy and Ethical Responsibility

Comparing the understanding of human dignity in traditional human rights theory and in Buddhism, we find that Buddhism stresses an image of humans as autonomous actors with ethical responsibility for their actions. This is especially evident in the theory of karma.
The teaching of dependent origination touched on earlier, stresses the interrelatedness of all phenomena, along both the spatial and temporal axes. Within this context, the theory of karma describes causal relationships over the course of time. In other words, past, present and future are viewed as the seamless flow of cause and effect, with the causes of the past becoming manifest as reality experienced in the present, which in turn is the context within which we create causes for the future. The proper emphasis of this teaching is that we should not be caught up in the past, nor overwhelmed by the present, but should focus on creating causes now for a better future. Karma in its original sense means actions or behavior. It is a teaching of human responsibility and autonomy. Negative, destructive acts are causes that will bring negative results, for which the author of those acts must bear responsibility. To appreciate the full scope of the teaching of karma requires acceptance of the idea of an eternal continuity of existence, in which causes from previous lives have created the circumstances of the present life and causes made now will continue into future lives. Even without accepting this essentially religious perspective, however, the idea of personal responsibility for creating one’s own life in the present has strong parallels with existentialist philosophy and as such has a potent ethical content that can advance our understanding of human dignity.
In the Buddhist view, karma is enacted in three realms: our thoughts, words and actions. The inclusion of the ideational and verbal realms of behavior in this sense provides a broader, more embracing ethical framework within which to understand human behavior and its consequences.
The idea of karma is not without its pitfalls, however, and these come especially to the fore when it is subverted to become a past-oriented—rather than future-oriented—worldview. This is another area in which institutionalized Buddhism must accept responsibility for having worked counter to the cause of human rights. In other words, the teaching of karma has been coopted by those in socially or economically privileged positions to justify that privilege as the natural outcome of their past “good causes,” while encouraging the marginalized elements of society to accept their status as the result of their past “bad causes.” The concept of karma has thus historically been subverted into a teaching of fatalistic acceptance.
One of the oldest Buddhist scriptures is the Sutta Nipata, a record of Shakyamuni’s travels and teachings. There we find these words to this effect: people are neither base nor noble (Brahmans) by birth; they are made base or noble by their acts. Thus Shakyamuni was sharply critical of the caste system prevalent in his age, rejecting any form of discrimination on the basis of social standing or status. Human beings, he urged, must be seen always in the light of what they do (behavior) and not who they are (birth).
Again, karma is a teaching of personal responsibility and empowerment. That is, regardless of how difficult present circumstances may be, humans are capable of creating, through their thoughts, words and deeds, the causes for a better future. Because karma is properly understood within the context of the profound interrelatedness of all being that forms the core of Buddhist philosophy, humans are empowered even to transform the manner in which negative circumstances function in their lives. Causal relations in Buddhism actually comprise three stages: cause, condition and effect. Thus, even extremely trying circumstances (condition) can be transformed by a powerful act of will (cause) so that they function to assist in the creation of a positive outcome (effect).
The implications for the idea of autonomous decision-making as a basis for human dignity are profound. Through autonomously arrived-at decisions, humans are capable of actively transforming the influence of negative social conditions, harnessing these to work for their own improvement, for others and for society as a whole. Within Buddhism, the centrally important idea of individual enlightenment can be understood as the process of enhancing the capacity (wisdom) of the individual to make decisions. Ontologically, individuals are accorded full freedom to decide in any manner they choose. They are not, however forced to do so in an ethical vacuum. The basic ethical framework for decision-making is that outlined above: because radical dichotomies between self and other are denied, altruistic actions that benefit others at the same time benefit ourselves. Actions that benefit self and other, contributing to the larger cause of human happiness (and in fact, of all life) are “good.” As mentioned, the basis for the most effective praxis of this ethic lies in acknowledging and reverencing the infinite positive potential (Buddha nature) of each living being.
The teaching of karma—its emphasis on personal autonomy, wisdom in decision-making and ethical responsibility—has important parallels in the human rights tradition. There are also differences. As mentioned, where human rights theory has traditionally stressed the individual and individualism, Buddhist ethics require that we actively consider the well-being of others. Another point of distinction with the positive law tradition, in which external actions are highly prioritized, is that Buddhism places an equal emphasis on the quality—the positive or negative orientation—of our inner processes.
This is, of course, a religious-ethical perspective, and to stress this is not to attempt to skirt the genuine difficulties of judging (in a positive-law sense) anything other than the actual, visible actions of individuals. Nor is it to suggest that it is in any way appropriate to introduce a religious component into the relations between people and states that are a central concern of human rights theory (in both the negative sense of protecting people from the encroachments of state authority and in the positive sense of requiring states to afford active protection to people’s rights). However, the Buddhist perspective can be of value in offering a viable ethical foundation for an expanded understanding of human rights as well as in countering an excessive emphasis on the isolated individual in the modern human rights tradition.

The Concept of Collective Karma and Societal Ethics

Incidentally, the idea of karma is not restricted to individual behavior and its consequences. Through the concept of shared or collective karma, it includes important social implications. In other words, a pattern of action or behavior that may start with an individual will come to influence others, and may be adopted by them, giving rise to mores, customs and institutions.
The idea of collective karma has two principal vectors. The first describes the relation between ideas widely received within a society and the structures and systems of that society. The second regards the relation between individual awareness and societal institutions.
To examine the first of these, the role and function of a society’s systems are, of course, largely influenced by the awareness and expectations of the constituent members of that society. In Japanese legal interpretations, reference is regularly made to “socially accepted ideas/norms” (which may be understood as a collective expression of the “reasonable person” in the common law tradition) as a source of legitimacy. The difficulty is that a socially accepted norm may represent nothing more than the views of a numeric majority, and may lack any deeper moral legitimacy. For example, widely held discriminatory attitudes against women, the disabled or other minorities can render null and void institutional efforts to assure the human rights of the members of those groups. The teaching of collective karma seeks to clarify the relation between widely held attitudes and social structures. As such it underscores the need to address discriminatory tendencies that lie buried deep in the human unconscious.
Regarding the relation between individual awareness and social systems, the teaching of collective karma refuses to dissociate social systems from individual will and action. Because of this stance, Buddhism sees the reawakening of individual awareness as the starting point for the reformation of the ideational and ethical patterns of a society, as well as the structures and institutions of society. Needless to say, the process by which individual awareness influences the commonly held views within a society and how this in turn shapes social systems is extremely complex. The classical teaching of collective karma lacks the kind of rigorous elaboration of these processes such as is attempted by the contemporary social sciences. At the very least, however, to the extent that this teaching asserts that a change in individual awareness holds the potential for larger social change, it stresses an autonomous norm and praxis of considerable potential significance.

The Role of Buddhism: Issues and Possibilities

Because the central focus of Buddhism has always been the question of how real human beings can be saved from suffering, it has adapted flexibly to a variety of social and historical settings.Within certain broad parameters (such as adherence to the core values of non-violence and compassion) practitioners have enjoyed wide latitude in the interpretation and application of Buddhist principles to the social realities they have encountered. In this sense, “living Buddhism” has profound stores of creative potential. In those eras and settings when its practitioners have lost sight of the values of creativity and independence of thought, the Buddhist church has lapsed into institutional passivity. As a result Buddhism has either been coopted by political authority or has re-treated from engagement in society. For Buddhism to return to its original spirit, it is imperative that practitioners actively develop links between core Buddhist concepts and the pressing concerns—key among them human rights—of the day. To adopt this stance, which has been described as “engaged Buddhism” is, in the author’s view, to return to the original spirit of Buddhism.
Contemporary efforts toward the universal implementation of human rights have moved beyond merely interpreting the “letter of the law” (whether that be a domestic law, a national constitution or an international instrument) and have sought to address the question of how humans ought to live together and behave toward each other. This has led inevitably to a deeper probing of such issues as the nature of human dignity and given these efforts a distinctly normative thrust.
Human rights have correctly been described as the open-ended effort to create those conditions in which all people can experience the full dimensions of their personhood. This can be thought of having two directions. One requires that we be relentless in the effort to empower people to discover and reveal those aspects of personhood that have been silenced, neglected, or otherwise marginalized. The other requires that we be deeply attentive to all those cultural “voices” that have spoken to core or underlying concerns of the human rights agenda, even when they have not done so in the historically acknowledged language of “human rights.”
In both senses, Buddhism merits renewed attention. As I have at-tempted to demonstrate in this article, the Buddhist tradition can be a rich source of tools for developing a deeper and more concrete understanding of the nature of human dignity, the role and responsibility of the individual, and the psychology of human interactions. Despite this great potential, Buddhism has been largely silent about or absent from the process by which human rights were enunciated in the modern era, and by which universal human rights were elaborated in this century. The time has come for the Buddhist tradition, while taking careful stock of its historical record, to become an active participant in the process by which a robust, global culture of human rights is created.

Footnotes:
1. Kant, Immanuel (1724–1804). He set forth a chain of explosive ideas that humanity has continued to ponder since his time. He created a link between the idealists—those who thought that all reality was in the mind—and the materialists—those who thought that the only reality lay in the things of the material world.
2. Western Enlightenment: Refers to the rationalist, liberal, humanitarian, and scientific trend of 18th-century Western thought; the period is also sometimes known as the Age of Reason.
3. Hobbes, Thomas (1588–1679). The English political theorist lived during the decades when kingly absolutism in Europe was drawing to a close and sentiments for popular democracy were emerging. In his book Leviathan (1651), he provided the formula for an ideal state in which all citizens would live together under terms of a social contract. To keep everyone from exercising too much freedom, however, there would be an absolute monarch.
4. Rawls, John (1921–), American philosopher; b. Baltimore. His A Theory of Justice (1971) greatly influenced liberal thinking. It gives a systematic account of justice as fairness, outlines the proper reach of (and limitations on) individual liberty, and distinguishes acceptable from unacceptable forms of social inequality.

Never Retiring from Growth

March 31, 2009

JOY AT WORK: NEVER RETIRING FROM GROWTH
BY DORIS EDWARDS, SGI-USA SOUTHEAST ZONE WOMEN’S LEADER

Living Buddhism, 9/1/2006, p. 42

After September 11, 2001, it became very clear to me that I had to live life to the fullest and appreciate each moment. I decided to stop settling for the easy life and to create the kind of life that I wanted. As I had been at the same job I had started right after high school, a change was needed; a new challenge. But I didn’t know how to find the change I was looking for. You could say I was stuck in a routine and didn’t know how to escape.
In February 2002, I attended an SGI women’s training course in Japan. Prior to going on the course, I chanted Nam-myoho-renge-kyo for clarity about leaving my job—I thought leaving my job might open up other opportunities. But my fears immediately surfaced, trying to convince me that I was making a big mistake. What are you going to do? I thought. Who’s going to take care of you? How are you going to live?
Despite all my insecure thoughts, I chanted a lot and decided to leave. I told my boss that I was going to Japan, and I needed his help while I was away: I needed him to prepare all of the papers for me to sign in order to leave the job. My boss immediately offered me another job in an attempt to get me to stay. I thanked him but refused. I chanted to leave with a good reputation, my pension, severance pay and unemployment compensation. I left with all of the above. But I still wanted to do something else in my life, though I had no idea what.
Upon my return from the training course, I determined to make my dreams a reality. I left my job to expand my life and horizons. I also wanted to go back to school and learn new things, to make the next fifty years more exciting than the first. With the Gohonzon, I already knew that the possibilities were endless. But it was very scary because I was leaving the job that provided comfort, ease and stability. I had to chant for the courage to move forward, especially through all of the fears that surfaced.
On March 27, 2002, I retired from the job I’d had for thirty-five years with a major telecommunications company. It was one of the most significant days of my life. In the letter “On Prayer,” Nichiren Daishonin writes, “There can be no doubt that the prayers of those who put faith in the Lotus Sutra will be answered” (The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, p. 346). Because of these words, I was confident about my future.
I have to admit I was truly enjoying my early retirement. I could spend lots of time chanting, visiting SGI members at their homes, answering phones at the community center and shopping. Life was good. Five months into my retirement, I received a call from my former employer asking if I would return for three months to cover for someone who wanted to take a leave of absence. No problem, I thought. After thirty-five years, what’s three months? I signed a contract to work for another three months.
I immediately missed doing SGI activities during the day. There I was, doing the same thing again. What happened to my determination? The person whose place I took at work decided not to come back, so my former employer wanted to rehire me. I emphatically told him, “No.” There I was, retired for the second time—more chanting, more member visiting, more call answering at the community center and, of course, more shopping.
A month prior to leaving my former job for the second time, I received a call asking if I would like to apply for a job at a major oil company. The call was from Wanda, a friend and SGI member who is the primary attorney in the Equal Employment Opportunity/Labor Relations Group for the company. Wanda had come to Philadelphia from Florida years ago. When she moved to Philadelphia, I was an SGI-USA district leader.
I used to take her everywhere with me. She always supported me 200 percent. Currently, Wanda is a women’s vice chapter leader. When I received her call to come work in her group, my first thought was, Great, now I get a chance to work with my friend. But I wondered if this was the something else that I wanted to do. I chanted for a high life-condition, went to the interview and was hired.
My five-month retirement came to an end. I was determined to grow and change. My challenge was to figure out how to create value in my workgroup, and even more importantly, in the corporation. My friend, and boss, was trying to effect a culture change in the corporation, and I knew I had to find a way to assist her in accomplishing her goal.
This proved to be no easy task. Many times she came into the office discouraged and doubting whether she could fulfill her goal to bring about a humanistic change in the company. I tried to encourage her, naturally—I wanted her to succeed. It also became my goal to support her in working harmoniously with the board of directors and senior executives.
I chanted a lot for her, especially during the times she felt the situation was absolutely hopeless. But things began to change, and we could see that we were making a difference in the company. The company adopted several progressive humanistic policies and programs that she proposed.
Everything was going very smoothly when, after two years of working as an executive assistant in the legal department, my boss asked me to become her paralegal. After she had promoted her previous paralegal to a different position, I started assisting one of the attorneys by taking on more and more paralegal functions. My boss was proud because, in recognition of the additional work I had been performing, the general counsel enthusiastically endorsed my promotion.
As this was happening, I was asked to take responsibility as the women’s leader of the SGI-USA Southeast Zone. All of my fears surfaced again, but I saw this as an opportunity to further elevate my life-condition and expand my capabilities. I chanted to win in every aspect of my life and took on my new challenges with that determination. Nichiren writes, “A coward cannot have any of his prayers answered” (“The Strategy of the Lotus Sutra,” WND, 1001). I was determined to have courage.
In my new career as a paralegal, I am determined to create value in my work environment. Every day before work, I read SGI President Ikeda’s words to not be defeated by my environment. President Ikeda encourages us to have a positive and enthusiastic attitude toward work and activities. He also encourages us to shine where we happen to be right now, and then we will become a winner.
One of the first challenges in my new position was to gain the trust and confidence of the attorney I was working for. She had a difficult time imagining that I could successfully transition from “secretary” to paralegal. I was initially swayed by her lack of confidence in my abilities.
My boss, also my friend, was concerned when I did not exhibit my usual positive attitude at work, and asked me what was wrong. After hearing the situation, she encouraged me to see this obstacle as an opportunity to grow. And she encouraged me to tell the attorney how she made me doubt my capacity.
I took her advice and chanted a lot to have a meaningful conversation with the attorney. When I told her how she made me feel, she was defensive and condescending. I responded with compassion, and she eventually  understood how I felt. She apologized for her behavior and began to open up her life to me. I felt like a true victor. She and I have developed a close relationship. She now shares positive affirmations about the work I’m doing, and she tells me how she’s trying to enhance her own skills as well. Recently, she told me that outside counsel complimented my handling of a situation. I was so appreciative that she shared that with me because it contradicted her initial negative opinion about my capabilities. I know it must have taken courage for her to tell me that. I could see then that we had grown together.
As I continue to chant to be the best paralegal in the company, I am definitely winning in my daily life. I am now in school pursuing my bachelor’s degree in paralegal studies. I have an extremely challenging and hectic schedule with work, my SGI activities and school. And it’s only through chanting to the Gohonzon and doing my best to fulfill my SGI responsibilities that I have maintained an “A” average in school.
My boss continually tells me that people in the company are impressed with my calmness and professionalism. One of her colleagues, who knows that we are both Buddhists, told her that when he is struggling with his attitude at work, he will come near my desk because I am so calm.
I am so happy that I decided to return to work. I have seen my life grow in ways I never imagined, and I feel it’s a result of breaking out of my comfort zone. Most times, it feels like my life-condition is soaring, and I’m challenging myself in new ways every day. And I earn more money than I made after thirty-five years at my former company. I am determined to never retire from a life of growth and development.

Moving Ahead

March 9, 2009

Rodney Mitchell, Phoenix: Moving Ahead

By SALLY MARKS McKEE, Mesa, Ariz.

World Tribune, 4/11/1997, p.9


Some people shrug and ask, “Why?” Rodney Mitchell asks, “Why not?” and moves ahead.

This optimistic attitude paid off when the second-year law student recently learned he was the recipient of the first annual Martin Luther King Jr. Scholarship from the Hayzel B. Daniels Bar Association, an all-Arizona group of African American attorneys and jurists. The annual scholarship is awarded to an African American law student who has demonstrated academic excellence and is involved in community service.

“One of my fellow students told me she hadn’t bothered to apply because she knew it would be very competitive,” said Rodney. “Because we have the Gohonzon, my wife and I have always felt that obstacles were opportunities, and it never occurred to me NOT to apply.”

Rodney’s wife, Elise, said: “There have been many challenging moments since Rodney made the commitment to attend law school and I made the commitment to support him in this joint decision. We knew it would be an incredible struggle with many sacrifices. When situations have arisen that seemed insurmountable, Rodney has always consoled me in the same way, saying with conviction in his voice and strength and compassion in his eyes, ‘We have the Gohonzon!’”

In addition to school, work and his active role as the group leader of Ahwatukee Group in Ahwatukee, a suburb of Phoenix, Rodney has expended considerable pro bono work within the minority community. He is the assistant project director of the Homeless Legal Assistance Project and spends about 10 to 15 hours each week coordinating and providing legal assistance to the residents of three homeless shelters. He was also recently elected by the HLAP board of directors to be project director during 1997–98.

As a board member of the Black Law Students Association, he participates in that organization’s “Street Law” program, providing legal education to middle and high school students, primarily in minority schools. This year Rodney helped start the “Street Law” program at a local inner-city school where there is a high rate of violence. “The more we help our children to understand the spirit and intent of our laws, the more motivated they will be to uphold them,” Rodney said.

Receiving the $1,000 scholarship was a victory for the Mitchell family, which includes Rodney’s wife, Elise, and three sons, Joshua, 12, Rodney Jr., 5, and Cheyenne, 3. But meeting the banquet’s keynote speaker, Martin Luther King III, was the day’s highlight.

“When we were notified that Rodney would be the scholarship recipient, we were ecstatic, but when we found out that he would be presented the scholarship at an awards banquet with Martin Luther King III as the guest speaker, it made the other benefits of this event pale in comparison,” Elise said. “To think that we would be meeting a man who positively impacts society in so many ways was almost overwhelming. He is a man who is carrying on his father’s dream, the son of a man who changed history.”

Mr. King’s philosophy strongly mirrors the SGI’s commitment to respect human life, peace and equality. “There are so many similarities about the message that Martin Luther King III is trying to send and the philosophy of the SGI that at times I felt like I was listening to SGI President Ikeda speak,” Elise said.

Mr. King urged his listeners to “get beyond” the issue of color.

“As he spoke, it reminded me of the cherry, plum, peach and damson blossoms part of the ‘Orally Transmitted Teachings,’ which speaks of mutual understanding and appreciation of one another’s differences, thus creating a lush garden of many blossoms,” Rodney said.

“It was good to hear the spirit of Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream being reborn in the passion of his son,” he continued. “Mr. King also believes that we need to continue to move forward — not look at the past but learn from it, continuing to advance toward unselfish love and the unity of diverse cultures. Buddhism expresses this as the true cause; from this moment on, making a fresh departure from the prime point.”

Rodney went on to say: “Mr. King quoted from his father’s essay ‘The Dimensions of a Perfect Life,’ saying, ‘Whatever work you do in life, even if you’re a street sweeper, do your job so well that no one living or dead could do it better.’ As I heard this, I laughed to myself, thinking, ‘Gee, where have I heard this advice before?’”

During the banquet, Rodney gave his experience of being a shy student in a newly integrated elementary school in Bakersfield, Calif. Although they didn’t know each other personally, Rodney was living the same way that was taught to the King family — working in harmony with children of all colors and backgrounds.

Rodney told how, despite being one of only a handful of non-white students at his grade school, he was determined to make friends. What better way to do this than to run for a student body officer position? His mother helped him write a speech, and he went from being an outsider to the president of Franklin Elementary School. He won by a landslide.

During his scholarship acceptance speech, Rodney thanked his mother, his fellow law students and his wife, whom he met while they were both in the fifth grade at Franklin Elementary School. “She voted for me for school president in the sixth grade, and she has voted for me ever since,” Rodney said.

After graduating from law school, Rodney plans to continue to help others, particularly those in need. In his cover letter to the selection committee for the scholarship, he wrote: I genuinely like and care for people. I fully intend to use my legal skills in ensuring that people in my environment are cared for legally. Whether as a prosecutor, public defender, civil rights litigator or a member of the legislature, I plan on impacting the well-being of the citizens of Arizona as positively as possible.

Rodney’s mother, Earlie Mae Mitchell, has her own ideas. When Rodney was a little boy she told him he would be president of the United States one day.

It isn’t hard for the many people who know Rodney — including “street people,” SGI members, law students, lawyers, and now even dignitaries such as Martin Luther King III — to consider Earlie Mae Mitchell’s suggestion and ask, “Why not?”

Making the Long Journey through Law School

February 20, 2009

Making the Long Journey through Law School

Nancy Kennedy, Rye, New York

World Tribune, 4/30/1999, p.7

Nancy Kennedy challenged her long journey to become a lawyer at 43, with ailing health and not even a bachelor’s degree. ‘The months, years, countless grueling exams and numerous obstacles passed by,’ says Nancy. ‘I would have “stopped on the 11th day” on that road to Kyoto long ago without the encouragement and support of SGI members!’ First I must express my deepest appreciation to the members who open their lives and share their experiences in the World Tribune. You have all encouraged me throughout the years and helped me move forward just one more day when all seemed to be collapsing around me!!

My experience has just proved what I refer to as the “20-year connection theory.” Let me first tell you that I began this practice as a youth in 1967 in Hollywood, Calif. During that time I was a very vigorous member of the first Los Angeles Fife and Drum Corps. I am grateful for the strict and compassionate training from my seniors in faith — to this day it has carried me through the toughest of times! In 1971, however, I was sidelined by serious back surgery and eventually drifted away from members.

My SGI friends always stayed in touch though, and I began practicing again in 1978 while recovering from life-threatening abdominal surgery — and have never missed a day since then. I’ll get back to the 20-year theory a little later.

At our district meeting last year, a member was trying to recall a quote from Nichiren Dai-shonin’s writings to ask a question of a senior leader. This one I knew from memory and recited it for her. At one time in history, the city of Kyoto was the capital of Japan. The passage reads: “It takes twelve days to journey from Kamakura to Kyoto. If you travel for eleven but stop on the twelfth day, how can you admire the moon over the capital?”( The Major Writings of Nichiren Dai-shonin, vol. 1, p. 254–55).To me this meant, if you do not continue to fight on the path for your goals in life no matter what the obstacles are, you will never reveal your hidden potential and complete your journey into the winner’s circle.

Hearing this passage made me realize that I started my own journey to Kyoto — the goal of obtaining a law degree — 11 years ago, shortly after I arrived in New York. I had only intended to get a paralegal degree so I could seek employment in the legal field in New York. I had many years of legal secretarial work in the entertainment industry in California, but always wondered if I had any aptitude in “real world” law, not just the realm of preparing contracts for the “stars.” Well, never underestimate the power of our practice to the Gohonzon! After earning my paralegal certificate, my inner voice then pushed me forward toward trying to become an attorney. But I was 43 and didn’t even have an undergraduate degree. Everyone tried to discourage me from this crazy idea — except my SGI friends.

With support and encouragement from the SGI members, the months, years, countless grueling exams and numerous obstacles passed by. One huge obstacle was just getting accepted by a law school. I achieved my bachelor’s degree in political science by 1990. Even though I graduated magna cum laude, I was passed over by every law school I applied to for two years. As the 1992 term started without me, I was very discouraged.

However, in September 1992 one week after classes had begun, I received a call from City University of New York School of Law in New York City telling me that a new law student had broken her leg that weekend and could not continue. They offered me first choice off their waiting list of hundreds of applicants to take her place. I had to resign from my paralegal job immediately and jump right into classes that teach at a 100-mile-an-hour pace. This also meant getting up at 4 a.m. to drive a long distance to school five days a week. Those law school years were three of the most challenging years of my life, and every day I wondered if I had the strength to keep going. Chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo abundantly saved me from quitting many times!

Along with this my 85-year-old dad, with whom I was living and was his sole caregiver, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease in my first year of law school. I now had to juggle magnified worry and care for him with the stress and demands of law school. By the third year, Dad was declining rapidly and moved upstate where he could live with my sister and be monitored by a memory disorders clinic. His house was sold in my last semester, and moving vans were clearing it out while I was trying to take final exams and find a place for myself to live within 30 days of graduating. Nevertheless, in May of 1995, I received my law degree.

One more obstacle stood in the way of my goal — the “Mount Everest” of all exams — the New York Bar. There was no time to prepare, with all this upheaval going on, to take the Bar right after graduation, which is the best chance anyone ever has of passing, while the thousands of legal rules are still somewhat fresh. My old enemy, chronic physical illness in the form of severe pancreatitis, also returned at that time! These obstacles caused me to wait for a full year before taking the New York Bar for the first time. Three times I prepared for months on end, studying day and night while juggling demanding law clerk jobs.

Three times I failed to score enough points to pass. Each time, the board of examiners increased the difficulty of the exam to the point that even extremely bright young people were failing over and over, some taking it up to 12 times, then just giving up.

Every day I would read SGI President Ikeda’s encouragement and gain courage to keep going forward. Regarding achieving goals he said, “Don’t give up when you feel discouraged — just renew your determination. If you fall down seven times, get up eight! The important thing is that you don’t get down on yourself and throw in the towel.”

I took the Bar for the fourth time in February of 1998, and the results were published in May. It was the most difficult exam ever given with the highest failure rate ever — 53 percent of the people failed. My heart sank when I read that in The New York Law Journal. I was certain that I had failed again.

However, I am at long last sharing my experience because — I passed the exam — this time I accomplished the impossible! And with a high score! I can’t tell you what sweet victory this has been, but what makes me happiest is that it is our victory — I would have stopped on the 11th day on that road to Kyoto long ago without the encouragement and support of SGI members! I am delighted to tell you that I was sworn in by the appellate court last September and now have a license to practice law in the state of New York.

Now, back to the “20-year connection theory.” I was still living in California, and around 1981 I remember that President Ikeda said to give yourself at least a 20-year goal to stick with this practice. Just like an oak tree, you don’t see much for the first few years after the seed is planted in the ground, and maybe the tree isn’t very tall even after 10 years. We always seem to want to see results overnight when we chant for our goals and dreams. But have patience, he said, and compare your life after 20 years to when you started this Buddhist practice.

In 1978, I had chronically poor health, was in and out of hospitals undergoing three major surgeries, had no confidence or stamina to hold any job other than typing and small office jobs. I was told by doctors that my disks were disintegrating in my back. They said I would be unable to stand or walk for the rest of my life by the time I was 40. Well, I’m certainly past 40 today! As my health improved and strengthened over the years, I began to both work and go to school instead of just barely getting through an easy eight-hour work day.

The only thing I added to my life in 1978 was this practice — steady and constant, day in and day out.

It was 1998 when I stood to take the oath to become an attorney, exactly 20 years later. The comparison to whom I was in 1978 is overwhelming. Over the years I’ve constantly challenged adversity with this practice and have undergone tremendous inner-life changes that have enabled me to achieve things that I never dreamed could happen! By the way, my dad, against all odds, is holding his own against the devastating effects of Alzheimer’s and will soon be featured in an upcoming segment of Dateline NBC. I continue to learn that with Nam-myoho-renge-kyo in your life, each day is a priceless treasure and absolutely nothing is impossible!!

Culture Department Makes New Start

February 7, 2009

Culture Department, Arts Department Make New Start

Eric Hauber, SGI-USA Culture Dept. Advisor

World Tribune, 03/30/2007, p. 6

Seventeen years after SGI President Ikeda founded it, the SGI-USA culture department has undergone a major renewal. First, new national-level leaders have been appointed (see profiles below).
At the same time, the arts department—which was previously the arts division within the culture department—will become its own entity separate from the culture department. This step was taken in light of the successful development of SGI-USA artists’ activities throughout the United States, as well as the growth of its able and talented  membership.

The academic, educators, healing arts and legal divisions will remain within the culture department.

We have set our vision on 2010, with the aim of contributing substantially to the growth of the SGI and its movement for peace, culture and education. Based on SGI President Ikeda’s vision, the culture department and the arts department will renew our focus on Buddhist faith and practice in accord with the following guidelines: 1) to deepen faith and discover our individual mission within our respective professional arenas; 2) to strengthen study of Nichiren Buddhism to effectively share the wisdom of Buddhism and to promote a correct awareness of President Ikeda and the SGI’s movement of peace, culture and education around the world; 3) to revitalize each individual’s seeking spirit to learn from President Ikeda and strengthen the mentor-disciple bond; 4) to be people who cultivate relationships of trust and respect and who are magnanimous of heart.

From its early years, the culture department has consisted of members actively working in the fields of health, law, education and the arts—professions that greatly influence society. The human revolution, or inner transformation, of each person in these arenas can contribute significantly to the betterment of American society. President Ikeda has encouraged SGI-USA culture department members to be people of culture and wisdom, to be first-rate representatives of their respective fields, and most importantly, to be truly respected and trustworthy human beings.

The focus for members of both the culture and arts departments remains, just as for other SGI-USA members, to actively participate in our districts and local organizations and thereby refresh our own faith. At the same time, using our talents and abilities, we can
contribute to and invigorate our district discussion meetings while inspiring fellow members. And then, with regular department meetings on a local level, we can also gain inspiration by sharing experiences among peers.

Through our SGI-USA activities, we can
develop our life force and wisdom, infusing our work with humanity and fresh vitality.

WANDA PEACOCK FLOWERS
Legal Division Co-Leader
Wanda is chief counsel managing a litigation group at Sunoco, Inc., in Philadelphia. She is an appointee to the Pennsylvania Bar Association’s Commission on Women in the Profession and is a member of the Executive Committee of the Business Law Section of
the Philadelphia Bar Association.

MICHAEL BYNUM
Legal Division Leader
Mike serves as the director of the SGI-USA Legal Affairs Department. He is responsible for all domestic legal affairs for the SGI-USA, focusing primarily on employment issues, property and other corporate matters.

Applying Buddhist Principles to American Legal Education

February 7, 2009

Applying Buddhist Principles to American Legal Education

The following is an excerpt from an essay titled “The Daishonin’s Path: Applying Nichiren’s Buddhist Principles to American Legal Education,” authored by SGI-USA member John W. Teeter Jr., professor of law at St. Mary’s University School of Law in San Antonio, Texas. Professor Teeter comments: “In this article, I explain the important role Nichiren Daishonin’s wisdom and compassion can play in the education of lawyers.” It was published in the scholarly legal journal McGeorge Law Review, University of the Pacific, in Sacramento, Calif. (Not all footnotes in the original article are cited; footnotes used have been revised.)

World Tribune, 10/08/1999, p. 2

I. Introduction

Nichiren Daishonin was a Buddhist priest in 13th-century Japan. He was a radical figure whose unceasing attack on the official Buddhist practices of the day incurred the wrath of both secular and religious officials. Twice he was sent into exile and once he was nearly beheaded for his refusal to remain silent in the face of what he considered the corruption of true Buddhist principles.

The Daishonin emphasized the primacy of the Lotus Sutra as the foundation of Buddhist beliefs. This sutra, which embodies the highest teaching of Shakyamuni Buddha, declares that all living beings inherently possess the Buddha nature with its accompanying virtues of wisdom, courage, compassion and life force. Regardless of gender, social class or previous life-condition, all of us have an equal opportunity to attain enlightenment.

Furthermore, it is possible to manifest our Buddha nature in this lifetime instead of having to practice austerities for kalpas or yearning to be reborn in some heavenly land. Throughout his life, Nichiren Daishonin exhorted his followers to adhere to the Lotus Sutra and pursue enlightenment regardless of the persecution and other temporal hardships they endured.

These lessons are inspiring, but their relevance to American legal education may be less than obvious. Upon reflection, however, I find that fundamental aspects of Nichiren Daishonin’s teachings merit our attention. The Daishonin was a tireless mentor for his disciples, and his call for compassion, critique, courage, and wisdom are essential for law students and teachers alike.

The purpose of this essay is not to convert readers to my faith or to purport to decide how Nichiren Daishonin would reform legal education. Moreover, I trust I am not trying to load my homespun ideas with artificial import by appropriating the garb of an esoteric philosophy. Instead, I offer my thoughts in the spirit of sharing a remarkable man’s perceptions and how they might inform the way we teach and advise our students. By doing so, I hope to encourage others to reflect on their own sources of spiritual sustenance and examine the contributions they can make toward deepening the relevance, meaning and joy of legal education.

II. A Look in the Mirror

“[A]n animal dressed in priestly robes.”1

Before pondering how we can help students, we must first examine ourselves. Professors are the high priests of the academy, enjoying enviable prestige, power and financial remuneration. It is apparent, however, that so many of us are fallen priests, going through the motions of performing sacraments in which we no longer believe. As Roberto Unger illustrates, professors can resemble “a priesthood that had lost their faith and kept their jobs” while standing “in tedious embarrassment before cold altars.”2

Nichiren Daishonin’s verdict is even harsher. As he charged:

This is an urgent call to those who profess to profess, a call to a self-criticism more piercing and painful than any critique we could rightfully levy toward students. The Daishonin well understood the temptations of tenure, the penchant to jabber rather than sing. A recurrent theme throughout Nichiren’s Buddhism is the need for humility in priests, and by extension, all others who purport to guide or instruct. Professorial posturing is merely “thunder that rolls but brings no rain,”4 and “the braying of a donkey cannot cause the winds to blow.”5

Most professors lead enviable lives. Our congenital pouting and “unearned unhappiness” 6 are therefore difficult to fathom. Take your three most serious grievances and relate them to a real “worker,” whether she be the managing partner of a law firm or a dishwasher at the local delicatessen. Your wails of woe will be met with either bitter snickering or stunned silence. We are remarkably well paid for what we do and precious few jobs offer the personal liberty and intellectual satisfaction we take as our birthright.

A price for this is inevitable. We can pay it either by becoming the jaded priests of little faith or by striving, pushing and demanding of ourselves that we mentor our students and pursue pedagogical excellence—however subjectively defined —with the loving tenacity of a relentless pilgrim. Our profession does not permit complacent goodness; we must strive to excel or else lapse into fraudulence. This is simply the choice we embrace through our audacity in purporting to teach others. Is such effort necessary to make it as a teacher? No. At least not in any material sense. Any high-bright carnival barker can entertain students, and there is always some journal that will publish the dreck we spew. Generations of mediocrities have attained tenure, and “[t]he banners of their pride were lifted up higher than the heaven where there is neither thought nor no thought, and their dogmatic rigidity was harder than metal or stone.”7

All actions have consequences, however, and a glorified fossil is nonetheless petrified. Professional security is of little consequence when one knows he is merely a competent showman. “To be praised by fools—that is the greatest shame,”8 even when the applause emanates from tenure committees.

As professors, we must traverse the double helix of both being teachers and being taught. We must also recognize our dual obligations to transform our perceptions of the law while empowering our students to do the same. This requires toil, which can seem so unrequited, and a sustaining belief that we have something worth developing for ourselves and our students. As the Daishonin enjoined a follower, “[y]ou must not only persevere yourself; you must also teach others. Both practice and study arise from faith. Teach others to the best of your ability, even if only a single sentence or phrase.”9

III. The Professor As Mentor

Mentoring is a special form of teaching, a one-to-one journey for the enrichment of both. Nichiren Daishonin understood the importance of relating to his followers on a personal, mentor–disciple basis. Although he wrote major doctrinal treatises on Buddhism, he also penned hundreds of letters to followers, counseling them on a myriad spiritual and practical issues. This empathy undoubtedly has contributed to the faith his teachings have engendered over the past seven centuries.

To be candid, few professors serve as mentors in any meaningful sense. The nuances of empathy seldom arise among us because we are seldom available to our students in the first place. This widespread lack of accessibility is as puzzling as it is detrimental. Why, one wonders, do people go into teaching when they are so loath to spend time with students?

How can they justify their bloated salaries based on only a few hours’ teaching per week? The quick retort is that we are paid to publish, and that our ceaseless efforts to enlighten the professoriat with our scholarship excuses our refusal to grace students with our time.

A trade-off inevitably exists between accessibility to students and time for scholarship. It is disheartening, however, that so many of us use the “research defense” to shirk our obligations to students. First, it seems that the most prolific professors are often quite generous with their time. Based on my observations as both a student and a teacher, I would conclude that the drive-to-publish defense is more commonly employed by tenured rascals with skimpy output. Second, we need to undertake an unblinking assessment of whether we will actually reach and help more people through grinding out yet another article or by giving our students the time and attention they deserve.10 Before reaching any firm conclusions, type your name into the “TP-ALL” library on Westlaw and see what you harvest.

Is your work commonly cited in leading reviews? Or, like me, are you stabbing at peas with a fork? (When “Teeter” comes up on Westlaw, it is usually as a verb.) We must continually push ourselves to be productive scholars, for it is part of our professional duty to participate in a collective discussion of the law. In all frankness, however, the vast majority of us cannot pretend that our contributions to legal literature will excuse a snotty disregard for our apprentices. Like Nichiren Daishonin, our entire bearing toward students should radiate the words, “I am always ready to clear up any further questions you may have.”11

Does this mean we should endeavor to be our students’ friends? Yes, with the explicit recognition discussed below that a true friend should unflinchingly offer sincerely felt criticisms. From Buddhas to barristers, no one reaches her potential alone. There is always the need for a zenchishiki, a good friend. As Nichiren Daishonin pondered, “How far can one’s own wisdom take him? If one has even enough wisdom to distinguish hot from cold, he should seek out a good friend.”12

The concept of the professor as “friend” may appear sappy and even pernicious. Students must learn to be independent, and true friendship may prove problematic amidst the hierarchical distance between professor and student. As Unger warns: Unger’s point is provocative but seems hardly apropos to the student–teacher relationship.

Simply put, the interaction between law professors and their students cannot fairly be described as one of “inalterable superiority and subordination.” Students need to be reminded that they are not without a voice and that their judgments of professors carry some undeniable impact. Students “grade” us in numerous ways: by deciding whether to take our elective courses, by their level of class participation, through their evaluations of our teaching, and, in the law review context, by deciding whether our scholarship is worthy of publication. Finally, as graduates, their feedback from the world of practice offers rich and occasionally biting analyses of whether we prepared them for life in the law.

Pretending that students are helpless serfs corrupts teachers, infantilizes students and obscures the potential for mutually rewarding mentor–disciple relationships. Mentoring is greatly needed, highly feasible, and carries tremendous potential for both teacher and taught. Students undergo considerable stress as they struggle to adjust to the demands of law school. As demonstrated in one recent study, some 40 percent of law students rank extremely high “on symptoms relating to obsessive-compulsiveness, anxiety, social alienation and isolation, and interpersonal sensitivity.”13 There is a deep need for what Beck and Burns have termed the “faculty-friend,” someone the student can turn to in confidence for counseling and encouragement.

Transforming oneself into a faculty–friend has its obstacles and limitations. Many of us feel more at home with “intellectual puzzles” than with “emotional problems.” Furthermore, the professor must recognize her finite capacity to help students cope with serious emotional or psychological problems. Indeed, in some cases it is critical for her to refer to a medical professional rather than attempt “treatment” herself.

In many other instances, however, the faculty–friend is the ideal counselor for the beleaguered student. As Beck and Burns assert: Even the student who cannot be described as “distressed” can certainly benefit from the guidance and encouragement of a faculty–friend. The sharing of hopes and fears with a trusted teacher both enlivens and personalizes the academic experience for all. This interaction should not imitate the doctor–patient relationship but instead should resemble the synergy of two rowers pulling equally hard toward some promising yet ever-shifting shore.

As Lani Guinier reflects, “[m]entors see learning as a dynamic process that builds on students’ emotional engagement and emphasizes the mutuality of their role in the educational conversation.”16

IV. Traversing the Obstacles

The complexity of teaching and mentoring deepens when one realizes that pedagogy is not a one-size-fits-all affair. To propagate Buddhism, explore proximate causation, or explicate the Rule in Shelley’s case, one “must understand the capacity and basic nature of the persons he is addressing.”17 Teaching should not be a study in onanism; in addition to teaching oneself, one must undergo a rigorous process of translation to provide useful insights for others. Furthermore, our students are not all mayonnaise-scented spawn of the elite, but a remarkably diverse population with varying strengths, vulnerabilities and means of learning.

This diversity underscores the need for law schools to offer a range of pedagogical methods to reach, teach and mentor as many students as we can. Only by having aggressively diverse and diversely talented professors can we aspire to further the intellectual growth of all of our students. As stated in The Lotus Sutra:

With regard to the Law, the Buddhas

are able to exercise complete freedom.

They understand the various desires and joys

of living beings,

as well as their aims and abilities,

and can adjust to what they are capable of,

employing innumerable similes

to expound the Law for them.18

Nichiren Daishonin realized this centrality of matching methodology with the student. He related how one of Shakyamuni’s disciples tried to instruct a washerman by telling him to count his breaths in meditation, while he endeavored to teach a blacksmith by having him focus on the vileness of the body. This merely led both pupils into the chasm of incorrigible disbelief. In contrast, Shakyamuni realized that the washerman should meditate on the vileness of the body while the blacksmith undertook count-of-breath meditation.

Under the new approaches, both disciples rapidly gained an understanding of the Buddha’s law.19 While students must claim responsibility for their own development, we too must recognize that often the fault might lie less in our students’ capacities than in our methodological assumptions.

A. “At the start I pledged to make all people perfectly equal to me, without any distinction between us.”20

Here Nichiren Daishonin quotes Shakyamuni to emphasize the mission of Buddhas and more prosaic teachers to eliminate distinctions based on status in a mutual quest for enlightenment. Indeed, “[i]n Nichiren Daishonin’s Buddhism the relation between mentor and disciple is based on the principle of perfect equality.” Law professors, however, are endowed with undeniable emotional and hierarchical leverage over our students, a power some find all too intoxicating. We must therefore focus on the ultimate essence of our calling, to enable our students to equal or surpass us in whatever lawyerly attributes we possess.

It should be with joy, not discomfort, that we embrace those instances where our students out-think us in the classroom or eclipse us in their careers. As Nichiren Daishonin emphasized, the Lotus Sutra teaches that the role of the Buddha is “to awaken in all beings the Buddha wisdom, to reveal it, to let all beings know it and enter into it.”21 Similarly, our role as teachers must be to arouse in our students a love of the law, with a full recognition of the joys and challenges it presents. Any goal short of that reduces us to bureaucratic gatekeepers.

B. “There should be no discrimination….”

Nichiren Daishonin’s Buddhism emphasizes the absolute equality of all people. As he explained, “the heart of the Lotus Sutra is the teaching that all people equally possess the Buddha nature.”22 As a consequence, “faith in the Lotus Sutra will enable anyone, man or woman, to attain Buddhahood in his or her present form as a common mortal.”23 This bears particular emphasis with regard to the subordination of females. The Daishonin emphatically taught that “the Lotus Sutra places the highest importance on women attaining Buddhahood.”24

So? Is this not merely a spiritual precursor to the equality we can take for granted in the post-civil rights law school? Unfortunately not. Legal education continues to be beset by racial and sexual disparities in power, representation and respect.25 Furthermore, even the “best” of professors may unknowingly mirror and reinforce such illegitimate hierarchies in the classroom. This is not a call for political piety in legal education. Diversity of thought is just as important as diversity of gender, ethnicity and socioeconomic background in coagulating the life blood of academic excellence. Professors should therefore practice the preaching of individual autonomy by insisting on their right to determine their own pedagogical rhythms. Such diversity of approaches must share the same foundation, however, for the house to stand. That foundation must be one based on the innate and emphatic recognition of our students equality as human beings.

C.“I believe I can understand something of your feelings.”26

The art of teaching—and most especially the art of mentoring—cannot thrive without a heartfelt empathy for our students. Empathy is central to our humanity, and without some ability to perceive life through our students’ eyes we cannot hope to offer them insights of any value. And yet we must avoid emotional chauvinism, where we presume to understand the pain and aspirations of others based on the limited capital of our own existence.

This danger is particularly prevalent when we presume to transmit empathy to students across ethnic, gender or economic frontiers. Dangers lie on either side, and the well-intentioned teacher can bemoan a certain fatalism. If you try to empathize, you can be castigated for attempting to appropriate the pain of others (whether these alleged “others” are students of color, angry white males, or first years crushed by their fall-semester grades). And yet to abandon the effort at empathy would surrender your individual right to human revolution27 as well as all dreams of societal transformation.

Nichiren Daishonin recognized the appropriate response. In comforting a heartsick widow, he neither presumed to “feel her pain” in its undiluted state nor refrained from attempting to bridge the existential chasm. He chose, instead, an intermediate route, the only one consistent with respect for both the autonomy and interconnectedness of oneself and others. Trying to assuage her grief, he acknowledged both the extent of his sorrow and the limits of his perceptual prowess. Even if he could not share the full depth of the widow’s grief, he could recognize her agony, tap into the universality of human emotions, and move in good faith toward words of comfort and inspiration.

This, I believe, is a product of putting the other person’s needs before our own. We must resist the urge to dominate others with smothering avowals of our “understanding,” yet eschew ostentatious self-flagellation over our gilded ghetto of privileged ignorance. We can elide this Hobson’s choice of emetics by proceeding with the Daishonin’s blend of compassion and humility. One need not suffer a particular pain to sense its presence in others, and one can render insights and encouragement without being the student’s clone.

Some degree of detachment will exist whenever two people meet, but there is no a priori necessity that this should trump our interconnectedness as humans equally endowed with the Buddha nature.

V. Preparing for Practice

“Never seek this Gohonzon outside yourself.”28

In Nichiren Daishonin’s Buddhism, the Gohonzon is a cherished mandala that we focus upon while chanting and that serves to reflect and embody our Buddha nature. This Buddha nature must be found within ourselves, and the true Gohonzon exists in our hearts rather than our altars. Enlightenment, therefore, is a process of self-discovery as opposed to acceptance or salvation by an external deity.

Nichiren Daishonin emphasized this throughout his life. As he warned, “If you seek enlightenment outside yourself, any discipline or good deed you do will be meaningless, just as a poor man cannot earn a penny just by counting his neighbor’s wealth….”29 The same is true of law students. Especially as first years, their anxiety propels them to seek moral and intellectual sustenance form a tawdry range of external sources. From professors to hornbooks, from study groups to outlines, they seek the mirage of certainty and miasma of meaning from sources outside themselves. It is a primal, infantilizing time for most, with a screeching abandonment of autonomy in favor of some illusionary totem.

This is where the basic underpinnings of the Daishonin’s philosophy can come into play. At some point, most law students figure out that the best way to “learn the law” is to sit back, close their eyes and think about the material they cover.They resist this, however, because it seems simultaneously too easy and too complex. It sounds deceptively simple that a first-year student can abandon her crutches and sprint further alone in the recesses of her own mind. Conversely, actually thinking one’s way through the doctrine, probing its strengths, flaws and lacunae, is infinitely more painful than highlighting Emanuel’s, clinging to professors, or melting into the “me too” chorus of the study group.

This is where the law is learned and doubt gives way to passion—in the wilderness of the student’s own skull. The solitary journey gives rise to insights and inspiration that permit her to rejoin the tribe as a potential leader rather than a mendicant. This process could be hastened and humanized, however, by the Daishonin’s message of self-reliance. As he realized, “to see one’s own mind is to see the Buddha.”30 Ideally, the student enters samadhi, a state of supreme concentration that engenders a sense of inner peace.31

The liberty of self-discovery, of course, entails the freedom to fail. Both are a corollary to taking responsibility for one’s life. That, too, is a message for students to ponder. As a student, I was shocked by the entrenched bitterness so many peers felt after the first semester or so. Never before had I witnessed such a sense by bright, upwardly mobile young adults that they had been wronged and limited by forces beyond their control. The truth is nothing stopped them but themselves. The only effective way to show compassion for such students—whose pain is undeniably real—is by urging them to take undivided responsibility for their own happiness. This stems from the Buddhist principle of esho funi, the oneness of life and its environment. Our environment should be understood as a reflection of our inner state. No one forced such students to compete for grades, study like fiends or peddle themselves to corporate mavens. These were their choices, and balming moot court, the cafeteria, or the dean only obfuscates the true source of responsibility.

In other words, it is our internal state that dictates the quality of our surroundings. As Nichiren Daishonin explained: Neither the pure land nor hell exists outside ourselves; both lie within our own hearts. Awakened to this truth, one is called a Buddha; deluded about it, one is called a common mortal. The Lotus Sutra reveals this truth, and one who embraces the Lotus Sutra will realize that hell is itself the Land of Tranquil Light.32

This insight prompts the obvious rejoinder that not everyone is enlightened, not everyone will make law review, and that even the maws of Wall Street can encompass only so many fresh spirits. That, of course, is precisely the point. Given the uncertainty of life, it is disastrous to predicate one’s self-esteem on the judgments of professors, hiring committees, and the like. The human revolution is an inherently personal one, and appeals to external forces will only drain students of their innate vitality. From spiritual development to academic growth, “the strength of your own faith will be the decisive thing.”33

Buddhism in the Workplace

February 7, 2009

Culture Department Forum

A New World of Culture:  Buddhism in the Workplace – Applying Faith in Daily Life

Excerpts from Living Buddhism, 12/01/2002, p. 34

The goal of the Culture Department is to nurture promising, capable people of faith and intellect who exemplify humanistic leadership, embracing wisdom, hope and compassion.

“The power of culture may be hard to detect at times, but it is a fundamental force since it transforms the human heart. Political and economic developments may be flashier and appear on the news more often, but culture and education are the forces that actually shape the age.
We must not make the mistake of looking at shallow waters that bubble noisily over the rocks; the deep currents are even more important to know the true nature of the river.”
—SGI President Daisaku Ikeda
(Faith Into Action, pp. 259–60)

SAMUEL BAILEY, JR.
MITCHELLVILLE, MARYLAND

The Buddhist teaching originating in the Lotus Sutra is the basis of the ethics I use for my legal and business career. It helps me see my role to help people. One of my clients is an international corporation that is developing a titanium and silica mineral deposit in Peru. I have insisted on corporate operations and practices that have integrity and honesty. Further, I have encouraged and supported corporate commitment for environmental and social impact for the people of Peru that is positive and affords them an opportunity to capitalize on the natural resources in their community.

However, such a commitment brings obstacles. The acquisition of investment and efficient operation of the corporation requires adherence to commercial and capitalistic policies. As corporate counsel, there are at least three responsibilities that I must carry out for successful corporate governance: 1) ensure that business gets done; 2) ensure that business is done legally; and, 3) protect shareholder value. Much of the controversy in current corporate scandal has been a failure to perform the second and third responsibilities. The corporate officers’ priority is on getting the business done now. Legalities and shareholder value are matters that can be addressed later. Further, corporate finance strategies and mining development models in third world countries often do not provide for environmental or social impact that will help indigenous people. Such people-oriented policies are costly and time consuming. A business case is designed to provide optimal returns on investments, which as a rule does not view environmental and social impact with a high priority.
However, my Buddhist views have encouraged the company to adopt people-oriented policies. And, my Buddhist practice has enabled me to effectively argue that, in the long run, adherence to such people-oriented policies will lead to a more successful outcome. For example, the company has adopted a plan to establish a local plant that will process the raw ore to a near-finished product stage in Peru with environmentally-friendly technology, rather than taking the raw unprocessed ore out of the country or processing it there with a chemically injurious process that would destroy the integrity of the land. Such a model allows the people of Peru to participate in the commercialization of the finished product in a more meaningful way. Of course, it makes sense for the corporation, because they ship less waste material and lower their costs.
This commitment as a practitioner of Nichiren Buddhism requires powerful faith. My favorite writing of Nichiren, “On Prayer” says, “…it could never come about that the prayers of a practitioner of the Lotus Sutra would go unanswered” (The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, p. 345). However, the wisdom, determination and compassion constantly required as a practitioner of the Lotus Sutra is a challenge. I look forward to my continual growth amid many struggles and obstacles, realizing that anything is possible with this Buddhist practice.
PHYLLIS TURNER LAWRENCE
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA

As a former attorney, and now a consultant and trainer in restorative justice, I’ve come to the conclusion that at the core of Buddhist ethics is the belief in the interrelatedness of all human beings combined with a passionate desire for people to overcome their suffering and become happy.
This sense of interconnectedness produces humanistic, caring behavior. I stopped practicing law and for the past eight years, I’ve been advocating a new paradigm shift called restorative justice (RJ). Very briefly, RJ principles state that when a crime occurs, it is more crucial and effective to determine what harm was done, by whom and how to repair it. This moves the community back toward wholeness and balance rather than simply figuring out what laws were broken, by whom and how do we punish them, which often focuses on isolation and separation, both for the victim and the offender.
From this “harm-focus,” rather than “law-focus,” we examine who was impacted by the crime—the victims and their loved ones, the community at large, the offenders themselves by their own actions and their loved ones as well. This creates a process that empowers them all to determine what needs to be done to make things right (given the past cannot be taken back).

Already you can see the concern for the ripple effects of crime, i.e, the principle of interrelatedness at work.

Our work often entails facilitating a dialogue among all these folks. It is hard work for people to articulate their pain; to feel open and safe enough to sit, in that pain, with the one who caused it. As a facilitator, I need to provide the sense of safety and trust that will support them in engaging in sustained dialogue. Focusing on the potential Buddha nature in each human being and seeing an individual as a whole person, regardless of his or her actions, helps me develop the necessary fairness, respect and empathy, regardless of my personal reaction to the crime itself or the individual personalities. Certainly my efforts over the years connecting with all kinds of people—SGI members, people I’m introducing to Buddhism, legal clients, etc.—have helped prepare me for this. And I can offer my Buddhist prayers for the wisdom to do my best and for their happiness.
I also like the RJ focus on cause and effect.We make the assumption that offenders must be accountable for their actions and discourage them from blaming others, yet, on the other hand, we bring in family and community members and encourage recognition of the responsibility of the community to create and impart healthy norms. RJ also works to support victims in their healing, sometimes just by “being there” — listening to and validating their experiences.

All in all, we are working to create holistic, responsible communities by taking advantage of the momentum created by a negative situation, what we in the SGI call “turning poison into medicine.”
Restorative justice excites my passions, and its propagation is my personal mission, as propagating Nichiren Buddhism is our collective mission as disciples of Nichiren.

(To find out more about RJ, send an e-mail to phyllis@us.net.)

Compassionate Care for the Buddha’s Older Children

February 6, 2009

Compassionate Care for the ‘Buddha’s Older Children’

Barbara Bates, Chicago

World Tribune, 07/19/2002, p. 9 (Culture Dept. In Action)

I am a 52-year-old attorney with a master’s degree in social work and have been practicing Nichiren Buddhism for 24 years. My legal practice focuses on estate planning and probate (primarily in an elder law context) and adoptions.
In July 1999, I left my job as an executive director and legal counsel for a social service agency due to unresolved differences with the organization’s founder. Fortunately, I was able to receive a substantial severance package (that served as the seed money to start my own private law practice six months later). However, when I left the job, I felt depressed, lost and defeated and had no idea what I would do next.
I sought guidance from a senior in faith, who shared SGI President Ikeda’s guidance to do something, be something, create something, encouraging me to build a life of happiness and financial success. From that point on I sincerely chanted to show the power of faith in my life.
Shortly after receiving this guidance, another great opportunity crossed my path. The SGI-USA culture department was holding a Florida Nature and Culture Center conference, and I was strongly encouraged to attend as a representative of Chicago’s legal division. Since I was not working and had the money, I decided to go.
At the conference, as I listened to one dynamic experience after another, I realized that the people sharing them had so much passion for their work. I searched my heart and all I felt was a core of emptiness. I ran to another senior in faith because this emptiness scared me.
The guidance I received was to assume 100 percent responsibility for the happiness of my members, especially those who gave me the most problems, and to chant for clear direction in my life. I began chanting with firm resolve to follow this guidance. There is no doubt that my ability to feel true compassion about—and responsibility for—the happiness of the members was the cause that opened the door of passion in my career.
When I returned to Chicago, a fellow member and good friend in faith allowed me to volunteer in her labor law practice. This gave me a sense of usefulness. At the same time, I looked for work but to no avail. As the months went by, I realized that I did not have any choice but to create my own source of income. Actualizing President Ikeda’s guidance to create something took on a new sense of urgency. So, in January 2000, the start of the new millennium, and the same month as my 50th birthday, I began to work as a solo practitioner.
Initially, the focus of my private law practice was unclear. I took on labor and employment law cases (which gradually became less appealing to me) as well as those relating to the concerns of the elderly and disabled. Over time, I became aware that I was enjoying my legal work with the elderly more and more, and a dream that I had actually forgotten about began to reappear.
Right before I started law school in 1988, I saw one of the morning network shows about an attorney in Atlanta who started her own elder law practice. She would do home visits and provide whatever service the elderly required. She even did some work on a sliding scale. I said at the time, “That is what I want to do when I graduate!” But weighted down by whatever suffering I was going through on my various jobs — and there were several — my dream vanished. But my concern and compassion for seniors remained in my heart.

My special love for senior citizens relates back to my childhood. My great aunt and uncle, who had no children, showered me with love and affection. From the time I was two weeks old until I went away to college I spent almost every weekend with them. As they aged, I became their caregiver. I shopped, cleaned and was there during their hospitalizations. We used to stay up all night laughing and joking. They were my best friends. After law school it was necessary to place them both in a nursing home and until they died, I visited them every weekend. Caring for them was an expression of my deep appreciation and a way I could repay my debt of gratitude to them.

After they died, I found myself seeking the friendship of our older SGI-USA members.

I have chosen to be a loud and vibrant voice on behalf of seniors, both within the SGI-USA and in my now passionate elder law practice. I have carved out a niche for myself in that I provide legal services in the homes of the elderly.

Of course, my training for this comes from the many home visitations I did with my fellow SGI-USA members. I also serve the elderly in hospitals, nursing homes and hospices or my office if they wish.

In return, my clients love me, as I love them. I even have a cadre of older women clients who always have a meal cooked for me when I come to visit. When my clients die, I attend their funerals with a sense of deep appreciation for them in my heart. I chant to touch the lives their family through my humanity and compassion. As a result, I am often retained to do the decedent’s estate work, and then even after that, I often remain on as the family attorney. Because they always refer new clients to me, my business is experiencing tremendous, dynamic growth.

As a chapter leader within the SGI-USA, I am assigned to a different district for a period of about six months. I always seek out the senior citizen members and make sure to give them rides to all the meetings, because for many of them their need for transportation is the biggest obstacle to participating in Buddhist activities. I work with the district leaders and members to help them develop a heightened sensitivity to the needs of their older members. I chant with our “senior division” members in their homes, we chat on the phone and we even go out to lunch together like old friends. I encourage them to become empowered and to speak up in their districts. At larger meetings, I advocate to get them seated early so that they do not have to stand in line.

The results of working with seniors in my SGI-USA districts have been outstanding. In one district, a once nearly housebound woman is now the study leader for the district and another senior in that same district recently sponsored someone to receive the Gohonzon.

In another district, one of the senior citizen members became the women’s vice district leader. And in the district I left most recently, the district grew and split into two districts, and a member more than 70 years old was named the district leader of the new district. Unheard of at that age! But the crowning jewel is that on May 4, I sponsored an 80-year-old woman to receive the Gohonzon!
I am so very happy and excited about helping older members develop their faith and I am overjoyed and passionate about my law practice. How wonderful that at this point in my life, at the “young” age of 52, I feel that I have finally found my true mission in life: caring compassionately for the older children of the Buddha!


Barbara Bates lives in Chicago and is a women’s vice chapter leader and the Great Lakes Region leader for the culture department’s legal division.

Leading a Successful and Contributive Life

February 6, 2009

LEADING A SUCCESSFUL AND CONTRIBUTIVE LIFE
BY RICHARD C. BROWN, ATLANTA

Living Buddhism, 07/01/2004, p. 18.

In 1976, as a senior in college majoring in criminal justice, I began working for the Atlanta Police Department. It was there that I was first introduced to the practice of Nichiren Buddhism by a coworker. It was suggested that I go to law school after graduation. I did not feel I was smart enough, but I received faith encouragement to challenge myself. I applied to a local, non–ABA approved law school. To my surprise, I was accepted and did quite well.
After graduating from law school, I failed the Georgia bar exam three times in a row. I regretted not challenging myself to make better grades in order to have gone to a better law school. I decided to give up on my dream of becoming a successful criminal trial attorney. Seven years later, a senior in faith told me that, “to give up on your dreams is to give up on your faith.” I renewed my determination to apply myself in both prayer and study toward passing the bar exam, which I did in 1987.
Even though I was now a licensed attorney, I still had doubts about my legal ability and skills. Instead of confronting my insecurities, I ran and hid from them. After all, I was a college and law school graduate, a member of the Georgia Bar and already gainfully employed in my chosen field. In addition, I was too busy in the 1980s being a leader and doing world peace activities in the SGI organization, where I was already respected as a courageous and capable person.
In 1996, I came to realize that it takes more than positions, titles, and appearances to qualify as a person of genuine faith. As the city of Atlanta was preparing to host the Olympics, I was offered a position as legal director for the Task Force of the Homeless. I knew that the city had passed unconstitutional laws targeting the homeless community.
I felt no particular need to do anything about this situation until I read the following passage from SGI President Ikeda’s The New Human Revolution: “It is easy to speak of loving one’s fellow human beings. But it is difficult to lend assistance to a stranger who is in trouble. All too often people shun involvement by pretending not to see what’s going on. It may seem like a small thing, but coming to the aid of a total stranger in difficulty is an act that requires human compassion and courage. The realization of ideals such as world peace and love for all humanity starts from the way in which each individual deals with situations and problems in his or her immediate environment” (Vol. I, p. 182).
I took early retirement from the city in December 1996 and started my new job as the task force legal director. My specific responsibility was to develop and maintain relationships with seven homeless men who were plaintiffs in a federal lawsuit against the city of Atlanta. I was also required to make myself available to receive and respond to complaints of illegal arrests and harassment.
I mistakenly assumed that, because of my education, titles, and position, I would be welcomed by all. Early on, however, it was made very clear to me that no one cared how much I knew; instead, they were more concerned with how much I cared about their individual lives. This harsh reality caused me to question my decision to leave my safe and secure city employment. But I had come too far; I could not again give in to my doubts and fears. I made a strong determination based on faith to win, no matter what.
For the next year and a half, I sincerely chanted every day so that I could establish heart-to-heart dialogue with every person I met, regardless of appearances and circumstances. Over time, I earned the trust and respect of individuals, organizations, churches, and government officials. Our united efforts resulted in the development of new programs, employment opportunities, the repeal of unconstitutional city ordinances, and the out-of-court settlement of a federal lawsuit.
From this experience, I came to realize just how easy it is for people to lose confidence in themselves based on others’ perceptions. Many people are homeless resulting from alcohol or drug usage in an attempt to escape the memory of past difficulties or failures. Similarly, I had, for many years, avoided directly confronting my own very personal issues. I had neglected both my family and my career in order to maintain my “image” as an SGI leader.
In 1998, after fulfilling my mission at the Task Force for the Homeless, I renewed my determination to become a criminal trial attorney. I took a job close to my home, as an associate with a law firm owned by a person with many years of criminal trial experience. At the same time, I made a strong commitment to spend more time with my family. This proved to be quite a challenge since, right after that, I was appointed SGI-USA Southeastern Region leader.
I prayed for the courage and wisdom to show actual proof in both my faith and daily life. I again used heart-to-heart dialogues as the key to breaking through the fears and doubts I had suffered in the past. I opened up my life and shared the reality of my personal circumstances with my seniors in faith.

I was totally overwhelmed with the understanding and encouragement I received from all levels of the organization. This support allowed me to, without feeling guilty, break my reliance on the titles, control, and attention by which I had come to define myself and my happiness. I could also remain true to my commitment to be a real husband and father.

In January 2003, the county where I live was in need of a new assistant district attorney. Many who applied for the position had graduated from nationally recognized law schools and had many years of criminal trial experience. In spite of this, the head district attorney for the county offered the job to me. Having observed me in and out of the courtroom for the past several years, the people in the district attorney’s office felt that my integrity, character, and work ethic were second to none.

This affirmation reminded me of SGI President Ikeda’s guidance: “The real benefit of the Mystic Law is inconspicuous. Just as trees grow taller and stronger year after year, adding growth rings that are imperceptible to the human eye,we too will grow toward a victorious existence. For this reason it is important that we lead tenacious and balanced lives based on faith” (For Today and Tomorrow, p. 11).

With the love and support of my wife and the local SGI-USA organization, I became assistant district attorney on March 17, 2003. On June 23, 2004, I celebrated twenty-five years of practicing Nichiren Buddhism. Just like twenty-five years ago,my heart burns today with passion and a lion-like spirit to fight for the happiness of the people and for the sake of the Law.


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