Buddhism and Veganism Read online

  The Buddha’s teaching of the Four Noble Truths can also be applied to vegan living, shedding further light on the connection between Buddhist and vegan practice. The first noble truth of dukkha points to the foundational awakening, not just in Buddhism, but also in veganism, which is the necessity of fully realizing the inescapable, (and ultimately unnecessary) suffering at the heart of conditioned existence (for Buddhism), and at the core of our meals and consumerism (for veganism). For Buddhism, this dukkha is the underlying, relentless unsatisfactoriness that is unavoidable as long as our minds are operating under the influence of the delusional narrative that we are an objectified, fundamentally separate self. For veganism, the primary concern is with the suffering inflicted on animals by humans. Putting them together, we see that we not only experience suffering due to our delusion, we are further compelled to inflict our suffering and delusion on others, and animals, virtually unprotected, bear the full fury of our projected suffering, delusion, and violence. Delusion, violence, and suffering tend to create more delusion, violence, and suffering, not just for animals and other people, but like a boomerang, for ourselves as well.

  The second noble truth of causality is that there is a specific reason for the suffering we experience, and that (for veganism) we inflict on animals. This reason is delusion. We fail to understand our true nature, giving rise to attachment, aversion, manipulativeness, conflict, and unavoidable suffering. Wealth, power, pleasure, prestige, and relationships are ultimately incapable of reducing the unsatisfactoriness of deluded and conditioned awareness, and may even intensify it. Because of our delusion, we fail to see and respect beings as beings, and instead see them as objects to be used, propelling us to mistreat them as means to our ends, sowing seeds of misery for ourselves as well. The third noble truth of cessation is the essential positive truth that we can free ourselves (and animals) from this suffering by awakening from the delusion distorting our perspective. This leads naturally to our yearning to make an effort to awaken, and to the fourth truth, the Eightfold Path. This path applies to the practices of both Buddhism and veganism, and provides concrete teachings and trainings to awaken our mind. Budh-, the Sanskrit root, means to awaken. Like Buddhism, veganism is best seen as an ongoing practice of awakening, not as a goal or a state of being, but rather a continual evolution.

  The Eightfold Path consists of Right Understanding, Right Aspiration, Right Speech, Right Action, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Mindfulness, and Right Concentration. From the perspective of Buddhism and veganism, right understanding and right aspiration are foundational elements that evolve and develop as we continue our practice. They are paradoxical in this sense. In order to be drawn to and to begin our journey in Buddhism or veganism, we need to have a basically correct view of the situation we, and all beings, are in. We enter our spiritual or vegan path only when our mind and heart ripen sufficiently. This ripening gives rise to an aspiration to awaken ethically and spiritually and to help liberate others. Buddhists teach that even Shakyamuni Buddha is still practicing earnestly, and this reflects the boundless nature of the first two aspects of the Eightfold Path. Right Understanding and Right Aspiration are thus seen not as concrete goals, but as propelling forces that guide and draw practitioners ever onward. They are the fruit, and also the first seed. Buddhist enlightenment is not static, and for veganism, understood as the yearning to treat all beings with kindness and respect, the path is similarly limitless because we can always learn, grow, evolve, and develop in our capacities to be a healing and liberating force for others. This calls us to continually make an effort to refine our understanding and aspiration.

  Right speech, action, and livelihood develop out of right understanding and aspiration, and are based on ahimsa, non-harmfulness, the foundation for the Five Precepts. As Buddhists—and as vegans—we are called to purify our words, deeds, and livelihoods so that they are in alignment with our understanding and aspiration. For both Buddhists and vegans, this is a calling to speak and act, both inwardly and outwardly, in truthful and respectful ways, refraining from harming or exploiting others, and to have livelihoods that do not lead to our injuring or taking advantage of others, but rather that allow us to benefit them. As in Buddhism, the fundamental principle in vegan living is non-violence. Donald Watson, in coining the word vegan in 1944, broadened and focused the older word vegetarian to include all forms of exploitation and abuse of animals as the foundational motivation, making it essentially equivalent to the ancient word ahimsa. Humans are clearly animals also, and so the understanding and aspiration of veganism and Buddhism dovetail in their actual practice, calling us to cultivate kindness and caring in thoughts, words, and deeds in our relations with both humans and animals.

  Finally, right effort, mindfulness, and concentration (samadhi) are the meditative disciplines and practices that open inner doorways to more fully realize our true nature, freeing us from the imprisoning delusion of being an essentially separate self, and allowing us to liberate ourselves and help liberate others effectively. These last three dimensions of the Eightfold Path call us to a vivid, challenging, and ongoing effort to raise and clarify our awareness, to question the narratives in our mind, and to focus our attention one-pointedly in the reality of the present moment. Each aspect of the Eightfold Path reinforces and develops the others.

  While Buddhists have these essential three aspects—right effort, mindfulness, and concentration—built into their foundational teachings, for vegans, these last three have not been recognized as indispensable to the vegan path. However, they should be, and increasing numbers of vegans are realizing that without these inner practices of right effort, mindfulness, and concentration, the ability to embody vegan values of respect, kindness, and freedom is limited by the wounds, programming, and emotional disturbances that condition our awareness and outer actions. It is becoming obvious that effective vegan action, as well as right understanding and aspiration, require inner purification and freedom from deluded self-centeredness, and call us to develop our capacity for intuitive listening and non-distracted attentiveness to the flow of awareness in daily life. The wisdom of the Eightfold Path applies both to the path of vegan liberation of all beings and to the Buddhist path of spiritual awakening. In many ways, the two are different sides of the same coin.

  It’s interesting that, broadly speaking, two primary traditions, Theravada (the “teaching of the elders”) and Mahayana (the “great vehicle”), developed in India and subsequently spread to other parts of Asia, and later to the West. The older Theravada traditions are found today primarily in Thailand, Myanmar, Laos, Cambodia, and Sri Lanka, and are based on the arhat ideal. The arhat’s aspiration is to attain liberation (nirvana) and thus be released from the endless round of suffering in samsara (conditioned existence). Mahayana traditions are mainly in China, Vietnam, Korea, Japan, Taiwan, and central Asia, and are based on the bodhisattva ideal. The bodhisattva’s aspiration is to attain liberation for the benefit of all living beings, and to work tirelessly for the liberation of others from samsaric existence. Both Theravada (Vipassana is one familiar form) and Mahayana (Zen is one familiar form) traditions accept and follow the same basic teachings, but it’s somewhat intriguing that in the Theravada traditions that emphasize the self-liberation of the arhat, meat-eating is quite common, even among monastics. In the Mahayana traditions that stress the bodhisattva aspiration of compassion and of working to liberate all living beings, veganism is typically emphasized or required, especially for monastics. The Mahayana tradition developed somewhat later than the original Theravada tradition, and it is primarily the Mahayana sutras, such as the Lankavatara, Surangama, and Mahaparinirvana sutras, that contain the most explicit and unambiguous passages advocating vegan ideals, though these sutras are, for the most part, disregarded by Theravadans.

  As some of the essays in this volume elucidate, Buddhism has been a worldwide force encouraging compassion toward both animals and humans, and encouraging vegan living. When, for example, em
peror Asoka converted to Buddhism in third century BCE India, he renounced his warlike ways and helped usher in an era of greater cultural harmony and peace that extended to animals by promoting vegetarianism and an extensive network of animal-care facilities. The Buddhist teachings have always unequivocally supported vegan living, which is now increasingly understood to be the essential foundation for a more conscious world where justice, harmony, health, sustainability, and abundance are possible.

  We are seeing in recent decades a resurgence of vegan teachings within many Buddhist lineages and traditions. This seems to be driven by grassroots pressure from the laity and younger monastics to honor the ethical and spiritual root teachings and to question the tendency to westernize Buddhist practice. For me, personally, traveling through China, Taiwan, Korea, and Vietnam, lecturing on vegan living and working with Buddhist monasteries and centers, it was refreshing to be working with religious institutions striving actively and creatively to promote veganism and respect for animals in the general culture. We rarely see this in the West, where the three Abrahamic religions that were formed under the knife of animal agriculture typically fail to question, and instead often promote, the relentless killing and abuse of animals that define our world today. We are also seeing an increased interest in, and commitment to, veganism in Theravada and Tibetan traditions. Orgyen Trinley Dorje, the young 17th Karmapa and head of the Kagyu lineage, for example, strongly discourages lamas in the lineage from eating meat.

  It’s essential to note that the vegetarianism that is practiced and promoted by Buddhist teachers, while being a step in the right direction, still fails to fully honor the precepts against killing and harming others. Leather, wool, silk, and other products require abusing and killing animals. Milk and egg products also invariably entail killing, sexual abuse, and stealing animals’ offspring and secretions, as well as their sovereignty and purposes. This is true of so-called organic, free-range, and humane operations as well, as numerous studies and investigations have demonstrated. Even putting aside the abuse, theft, and usual killing involved, owning other living beings as property is inherently harmful to them and contradictory to the Dharma.

  Animal agriculture, the living core of the culture into which we have all been born, is the epitome of samsaric delusion manifesting as violence, disease, exploitation, and war. We have all been wounded by our upbringing, whatever our current religious and consumption orientation may be. How can we bring healing to ourselves and our situation here? How can we best question herderism’s narratives and practices within us, and in our culture, and co-create a world more in alignment with our values and inner wisdom? What role can Buddhist and vegan teachings and practice play in our personal and cultural evolution?

  This present volume attempts to illuminate these questions by exploring both the theory and the practice of Buddhism and veganism as they influence each other and blend to help create positive change in our world. Many of the essays provide personal stories illustrating how Buddhist and vegan practice reinforce and deepen each other.

  Thank you for your interest in these questions and for your efforts to address the urgent situation we are all facing today. The ancient teaching of ahimsa—at the core of both Buddhist and vegan practice—lives in all of us as inherent compassion and wisdom. May we unfold these capacities within us for the benefit of all living beings.

  Vegan Dharma

  DAVID BLATTE

  My introduction to the Dharma came at the tender age of twelve – although I didn’t recognize it as such at the time. My parents and I were on a road trip during winter vacation – they were both teachers – and one day my father drove by himself to visit a student of his who lived nearby. He had still not returned when I went to sleep, and a few hours later I was awakened by a loud knock on the hotel room door. A policeman stood there, giving us the news that my father had been killed in a car accident.

  I was, in an instant, completely immersed in dukkha (suffering), aware not only of my own sadness and confusion but also the relentless agony of my mother, whose uncontrollable sobs resonated through the house for what seemed like months. Over time, as my own pain diminished and I again looked outward, I started to view the world around me in a new light. Suffering was not confined to me, my mother, or those affected by my father’s death. Nor was it unique to humans. As I observed the animals and insects on our wooded property, I understood that they too did not escape suffering. I could not know the exact nature of their experience, but that they suffered was inescapable. They avoided harm just as desperately as humans, and even the tiniest insects seemed to fear for their lives – a centipede rolling up into a ball or a mosquito avoiding a swat. In this, my family, my species, and I myself were not alone. There was a bond shared by all sentient beings, large and small, forged in our common experience of suffering.

  It was not long after this realization that I stopped intentionally killing insects. Then, in college, when anti-fur protests were at their zenith, another student equated wearing fur – which I passionately opposed – with eating meat, pointing out that while one was for vanity and the other for sensual pleasure, neither was necessary, and both were dependent on the killing of an animal. The logic was compelling, so I became a vegetarian. Ten years later, while in law school, when I was exposed to factory farms and saw the suffering inherent in eating eggs and dairy, I became vegan. I was also fortunate to have Gary Francione, an animal law attorney and professor, take me on as an intern. In 2000, I served as executive director of Vegan Action, known for its institution of a popular vegan logo, and after that I started my own animal law practice, which I maintained for five years. My concern for the well-being of animals has permeated my personal and professional life for over 45 years.

  I was first formally introduced to the Dharma in college where, as a philosophy major, I studied Eastern religions. Recently, I discovered a paper I had written and I could see that the instruction had been substantial. In it I discussed the three characteristics – impermanence, suffering, and not-self – and analyzed the distinction between Theravada and Mahayana Buddhism. About ten years later, I had a brief foray into Transcendental Meditation. Finally, around the age of forty, when I moved to Berkeley, California, I explored a number of traditions and settled on my current practice, which I’ve maintained for twenty years.

  My present path began with a beginner’s course by James Baraz, a teacher affiliated with Spirit Rock Meditation Center, a Theravada center whose method is based on the Satipatthana Sutta, which discusses the four foundations of mindfulness. One experience in particular still stands out in my mind – being introduced to the First Precept: Do not kill. Importantly, do not kill animals. I remember my elation the moment I came across this teaching that included all sentient beings, not just humans, in its field of concern. I had finally found a philosophy that shared my deep and long-held conviction that all sentient life, regardless of species, is to be respected.

  Over the next two years, as my practice developed, I naturally assumed that my teachers and fellow students were vegetarian, just as the food at events and retreats was vegetarian. It never occurred to me that they were not. My rude awakening came at the end of a ten-day retreat with one of my favorite teachers when, going to say goodbye, I found him eating his lunch – a fish. I was shocked. Since then I’ve come to learn that most lay practitioners and teachers, and perhaps even most monks, are not vegetarians, let alone vegans. But at the time it was quite jarring. What I took for granted as an indispensable element of the practice was apparently more the exception than the norm.

  My dual pursuits as an advocate for animals and as a meditator came together in 2004 when, at the end of a three-month retreat at Insight Mediation Society, I found myself talking to another retreatant, Bob Isaacson, and quickly found we had much in common. In addition to being former public interest defense attorneys (he was a death penalty lawyer and I a public defender) and sharing a commitment to the Dharma and to animals, we were both disappointed
and perplexed that so many of our fellow practitioners ate animals. We continued the conversation when we returned home, and before long, along with Patti Breitman and Kim Sturla, formed Dharma Voices for Animals, an organization dedicated to raising awareness of animal suffering and abuse, with an emphasis on a plant-based diet, within the meditation/Buddhist community. The organization continues to grow, hopefully preparing the way for the time when all practitioners fully embrace the ethic of non-harm.

  After the IMS retreat, as my commitment to the practice continued to grow deeper, I decided to leave my home, law practice, and partner, and bought a one-way ticket to Pa Auk Monastery in Myanmar. The teacher, Pa Auk Sayadaw, emphasized the development of concentration – specifically the jhanas – something in which I had always felt I was not sufficiently strong. But what really drew me to Pa Auk was that Sayadaw, and the monastery itself, was vegetarian. As I subsequently learned, Sayadaw places a great emphasis on morality (sila), setting an example by the life he leads.

  The time in Myanmar, and subsequently at Na Uyana Monastery in Sri Lanka, was transformative. I was exposed to an entirely different relationship to the Dharma. For monks, meditation has a singular purpose – the attainment of nibbana (nirvana, enlightenment), which is the only and ultimate freedom from suffering. I quickly embraced that goal, and while not an ordained monk, the Dharma remains my guiding principle and the attainment of nibbana my primary pursuit.