One of the things I’ve discovered over the years is that Catholics, lay and clergy alike, tend to be rather confused when they address ethical questions. While many try to engage the rich moral tradition that the Catholic faith has developed through the last two thousand years, they often do so to support a presupposed position (prejudging the moral inquiry) and end up perverting the technical issues moral theology addresses in order to support an ideological goal. Material and formal cooperation with evil are often brought up, but mixed up and confused, so that the two end up being used as if they were the same thing (which they are not). Remote material cooperation with evil sometimes becomes equated with direct, formal cooperation with evil, which, if the equation was valid, would end up creating a moral quandary which no one can overcome (not even God). While the basic program of Western ethical inquiry is important and should not be rejected, it is obvious that it is misunderstood, and, without proper training, easily leads to ideological ends more than it helps people deal with real ethical dilemmas. There is hardly any room left for prudence.
Now it must be understood that the Western moral tradition has developed out of pre-Christian sources, especially Hellenistic philosophy. This indicates a rather important point: Christians can and should engage non-Christian sources as a means of developing their own moral principles. It is in this light that I think Christians should have another way of dealing with moral questions, one which does not seek to counteract the traditional approach, but one which works to complement it. By using a different form of ethical inquiry (though often leading to the same conclusions), we can better understand and appreciate the moral positions of the Catholic Church and also better understand what it is we are to do in real world situations (and not the paradise of the mind). For myself, the ethical system I’ve found most beneficial comes from Buddhism. Buddhadharma tends to be pragmatic in its approach to morality, but this is not to say it does not make moral judgments. Rather, it uses a pragmatic approach to help explain why such judgments are sound. Those actions which lead to our own harm are considered unwholesome (and bad), while those actions which lead to our own benefit are considered wholesome (and good).[1] Now before we get to thinking this means Buddhist morality is selfish, and it is all about “what is in it for me,” it must be noted that actions done out of a selfish motivation are, by definition, unwholesome and bad – because they are about the reification of the defiled ego. Rather, it is about how the actions we do either cause us to find happiness or suffering (or, as in most cases, a mixture of the two, and how we are to read that mixture) which is important (and in this way, connects to the natural morality of Hellenism).[2]
Now to address the Buddhist understanding of moral action, it is important to do so with a few technical works from the Buddhadharma. Though the words can, and do, mean different things within different contexts, we will follow through with the connotations which are important in this inquiry. After introducing some basic Buddhist concepts, we will then look at how they judge the moral culpability a person has with a given action.
The most important word for us here is, without much surprise, karma. Now there is much confusion in the West as to what karma means or does not mean, and this is in part, because it can be applied differently. The word primarily means “act,” but it is generally used and applied, not only for the act, but the consequence (or fruit) of the action as well. Every action has its effect, and every effect then becomes the foundation for further action, often the same kind, allowing for a continuous cycle of activity, until something gets in the way and interrupts it (the further the cycle has gone, the more difficult it becomes to overcome, because it has become habitual).[3]
From our action, we develop merit or demerit (puņya). The more good we do, the more merit we acquire, and the more happiness we find; the more bad we do, the more demerit we acquire, and the more suffering we find for ourselves. Now sometimes merit and demerit will work to counteract each other; but this is not always the case. Often we will experience the fruit of our actions, both the good and the bad, so that we will experience happiness because of some good we have done, only later to find the consequences of our demerit affecting our lives later, causing us to suffer (or vice versa). In other words, while we can work to counteract the good or bad we have done before, there is a sense that we can acquire “accounting” of both and experience the effects of both, as the consequences develop and “ripen” to the point that we notice them. Because the consequences are not always immediate and apparent, it is often difficult to know which actions are going to cause happiness, and those which will cause suffering (though, of course, experience applied to rational thought have helped provide a systematic determination of this within Buddhism).
There are certain precepts which Buddhists try to follow as obligations, because they seek to prevent us from doing those actions which lead to great evil. The five precepts within Buddhism tend to be seen as the Buddhist equivalent to the Ten Commandments from the Judeo-Christian tradition, and, while there is much which overlaps between the two, there are some aspects which differ, and Christians, looking to Buddhism, need to consider the practical implication of the Buddhist precepts, and determine for themselves how they should be adapted for the Christian life. They are:
- I will refrain from harming sentient beings
- I will refrain from taking what has not been given
- I will refrain from sexual immorality
- I will refrain from speaking falsely
- I will refrain from taking intoxicants
Now, as it can be seen, these precepts need interpretation. “I will refrain from sexual immorality” is vague (because it tries to address a large number of concerns in one precept). The refraining from intoxicants comes from the notion that we should be constantly aware, and keep our mind active and healthy (while intoxicants harm our ability to keep aware and therefore, to act properly). Once again, because this essay is meant to provide an overview of Buddhist ethical considerations, the details will have to be left behind. Nonetheless, we can say that C.S. Lewis’ notion of an “universal tao” is confirmed by these precepts.
There are several virtues which are generally acknowledged by Buddhists, and should be mentioned here, because of how they also affect Buddhist moral considerations. The most important for us here are: dāna (generous giving, charity), ahimsa (non-violence, non-harming), and karuņā (compassion). Each is seen to be able to create strong, positive, wholesome karmic effects, and even to work against the negative karma we have done in the past.
Yet all of this so far easily can lead to an absolute morality, the kind which does not provide for situational, real world benefits. It’s when all of this is combined with the Mahāyāna understanding of “skilful means” (upāya-kauśalya), that Buddhist ethics can provide a solid, pragmatic ground in which we can judge moral decisions. Skilful means points out that general, moral discussions are guidelines, but not to be absolutized, and that we must understand why the guidelines suggest what they do, so that we can make proper moral decisions when put into challenging situations that those guidelines don’t really answer. We must see it as a kind of “situational ethics,” but one that is situational without being relativistic. For it points out that, even if we are forced to do an act which we would rather not do, we cannot escape the consequences of our action. Moreover, it reminds us that the good we plan to achieve in an act does not negate the evil which is contained within it. Just because an action becomes necessary (such as the lesser of two evils), does not make it any more a good; at best it makes it understandable why it is chosen. We are affected by all our actions. Knowing the effect is not always going to be the same kind is an important aspect of Buddhist ethics, and where Buddhist ethics can help Westerners come to terms with notions of “material” and “formal” cooperation with evil in a way which points out the degrees of such cooperation. For the Buddhist, the kind of consequence one gains from an action depends upon many factors, and not just whether one is the one who acted or not.
Ven. Lobsang Gyatso explains fairly well what is involved with the determination of the karmic value of an action: “There are four characteristics which are necessary for a complete action. A complete action is necessary for the full effect(s) of that action (karma) to occur. These characteristics represent different phases of any action. They are (1) intention, (2) preparation, (3) performance, and (4) finality (rejoicing).”[4] Engagement with any phase of the action will result with some karmic influence from the action itself. This is true for works which are good as well as with works which are bad. For the full, karmic influence of an action, one must do all that is possible to be associated with the action itself: one must intend what one does, one must prepare (accordingly) for the action, one must do the act itself, and one must rejoice in what is done, that is, be happy with what the action immediately does. Nonetheless, this means, even if you are not the one who does the act, if you participate in any phases of the action, including the final phase, you acquire some merit or demerit based upon your cooperation with the action. And the kind of cooperation is important. Instead of using the terms “formal” or “material” cooperation, the Buddhist conception looks for how you associate yourself with the action itself. This means, even if you are not the one who killed Saddam Hussein, if you rejoiced in his death, you gained some (indeed, much) of the karmic effects of that death. If you intend something but don’t do it, that intention is enough to have an effect on your person, to cloud your mind, your desires, until you get rid of that intention. If you prepare for an act, but end up stopping yourself from doing it, though you have not gone all the way into the act itself, the preparation is enough to have an effect on your person, and must be accounted for (if it was an unwholesome act). On the other hand, if you are forced to do an act, but never intended to do it, and find no happiness in the act, while the action is itself karmic, the deed is clearly out of your full intention or desire, and so will have far less unwholesome effects than if you rejoice in the activity itself. Indeed, intention, preparation and what one takes out of the act have more direct implications on the person than the action itself, because the intention, preparation and reception of the act tend to have a far greater influence on the person and how they act in the future.
These considerations should help us humanize the moral actor, especially when they find themselves in the midst of an ethical quandary. If they choose an act which they would rather not do, but feel compelled to do so due to circumstance, it is clear, while they are not free from reproach, they are not to be treated as monsters whose moral decisions are purely evil. Indeed, that they wrestled with their own actions shows they are not. And if we want to help them overcome their unwholesome deeds, its important that we keep this in mind; for if we come to them in charity instead of hostility, they will be more than willing to listen to us and look to ways to change their otherwise difficult choices in the future.
Footnotes
[1] It must be understood that in this piece, we are looking broadly through the Buddhist traditions, and not engaging the internal debates within Buddhadharma. Moreover, it must also be noted that when we talk about persons, good, bad, wholesome, unwholesome, etc, these are considered to be conventions, which means, they are true, but conventionally so (the absolute, transcendental aspect of truth from which the conventions flow is not exhausted by the conventions, but only pointed to by them).
[2] Sometimes the explanation for why an action will cause us harm requires a sophisticated philosophical exploration, and for this reason, such questions, while important, will not be pursued here. Rather, what is important here is how Buddhism addresses the kinds of concerns normally indicated by “material” and “formal” cooperation of evil. For here, we will find, Buddhism has a different way to look at the question in various degrees of cooperation, the kind of distinction which is important when one is trying to decide a moral course of action.
[3] It is from other aspects of Buddhadharma, such as its notion of the momentary nature of time, where each moment is seen as an instantaneous birth and death, seeding the creation of the next moment with its birth and death, that notions of reincarnation come into play. It’s again not necessary for this essay to engage reincarnation within Buddhadharma, but it must be noted, reincarnation in Buddhism is about the continuation of a cycle of cause and effect in the world, and not the continuation of an uncreated, unchanging eternal person. In this way, reincarnation must be read within the context of Buddhist notions of no-self to appreciate its teaching (and to see how it is quite different from Hindu and New Age notions of reincarnation which is about the continuation of the same eternal self). Buddhism is about processes and how they influence each other, and the conventions we can use to explain those relations; Christian notions of original sin are similar to Buddhist notions of karma and reincarnation. We are influenced by the past, and the processes of creation which led to where we are now, but we must not see ourselves as “the same thing” as those processes, though not entirely separated from them and so not entirely different from them, either.
[4] Ven. Lobsang Gyatso, The Four Noble Truths. Trans. Ven. Sherab Gyatso (Ithica, New York: Snow Lion Publications, 1994), 36-38.
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