Bangkok - Gamblers. Drug addicts. Regular visitors to night-time entertainment areas. Rowdy gangsters. Thieves in saffron robes.
The descriptions above appear to fit many circles within the Thai Sangha (monastic order) these days. But according to Phra Paisal Visalo, who recently completed eight years of research on the state of Theravada Buddhism in Thailand, these phenomena took root well over a century ago.
"The problems of monks deviating from the Dhamma-Vinaya [Buddhist doctrines and disciplines] are not new,'' wrote the scholar monk in his new book titled Thai Buddhism in the Future: Trends and Alternatives to the Present Crisis.
"The rampant indecorum in the Sangha signals the demise of Buddhism in Thailand - but there have been attempts at reforms every now and then too. Development in Thai Buddhism is not unlike patterns of fluctuating waves, with the continual ups and downs.''
What distinguishes the past from the present crisis - and what may account for the survival, or extinction, of the religion in the future - is the crucial differences in world views. At least, argued Phra Paisal, the old Thai Buddhists still subscribed to beliefs in spiritual enlightenment (Nibbana) as the ultimate goal of religious practice; in the existence of other worlds that transcend the present life; in the simple faith that there is indeed a heaven awaiting the good and a hellish realm for the bad.
But, continued the monk, people nowadays attach very little credence to such tenets. The supreme awakening has become a task too difficult, or even impossible, for the majority of practitioners. Tangible, often material, successes in the present world have emerged as the sole measure of one's worth - and deeds. The notions of any other planes of existence beyond death would be simply laughed at.
In effect, the sacred of bygone eras has been trampled on, and in its place the profane has arisen.
Such a landmark transition has not been achieved overnight. According to Phra Paisal, the changes have resulted from deliberate efforts by the ruling elite dating back to the early Rattanakosin era. At any rate, the "reforms" were deemed necessary in light of the expansion of colonial force, with its powerful tools in the name of science and modernisation. Other kingdoms in the same region had already witnessed a decline of the official set of dogmas, especially since the members of the upper classes themselves, through exposure to Western culture, chose to convert to the new religion (Christianity) and ways of life.
Everything comes with a price, though. The successes of the revival of Thai Buddhism from above have left a host of malaise that current generations must untangle - if they want to carry on the religion.
How did this come about?
For Phra Paisal, "the fundamental, radical, transformation took place when the beliefs in the traditional cosmology that revolved around Trai Phum Phra Ruang [an old set of beliefs in the laws of karma] were invalidated - by none other than the leaders who expressed themselves as devout Buddhists.''
One surprising discovery made by Phra Paisal in his extensive research was how the pioneers of this secular, more scientific, version of Buddhism were King Mongkut (Rama IV), who spent nearly three decades in robes, and one of his sons, Prince Vajiranana, who rose in rank to become the Supreme Patriarch during the reign of King Rama VI.
King Rima IV was the founder of the Thammayuti Nikaya, a new sect that criticised and challenged the Maha Nikaya, then predominant in the mainstream Sangha. Prince Vajiranana was behind the unification of Theravada Thai Buddhism and its incorporation into the larger nationalistic discourse.
Judging from the various comments made by the royals, the status of Thai monks - as well as of traditional modes of practice - was perceptibly low. Rama IV openly commented how the men in yellow were "out of date'' and unduly enjoyed a comfortable lifestyle. Prince Vajiranana himself expressed embarrassment when he made the decision to enter the monkhood - a life others branded full of futility and idleness. His half-brother, King Chulalongkorn (Rama V), went further: He regarded monks who spent their time meditating as the "laziest" compared to those who studied Buddhist texts or prayed. (The monarch later made an apology for his "misunderstanding''.)
Such negative attitudes were translated into a series of actions. Phra Paisal considers Rama IV to be the first Thai ruler who adopted science and its rational way of thinking into the teachings in Theravada Thai Buddhism. He approached Lord Buddha no longer as a mythical or spiritual figure but as a historical person whose dates, months and years of birth and death could be calculated scientifically. Likewise, he did not believe in the accumulation of merit (from previous lives) that had been traditionally factored into whether or not one was destined for kingship. Rather, bloodline was one of the decisive factors, he stated. Also out were beliefs in the supernatural power of the otherworld (although curiously, it was King Rama IV who came up with a construction of Phra Sayam-thewathiraj, revered since as the protector of the Chakri Dynasty and the Thai kingdom).
Importantly, the ultimate goal of Dhamma practice - attainment of spiritual enlightenment - has since been conveniently dropped. Unlike previous monarchs, King Rama IV no longer held such an idea as attainable nor practical for a country's leader to pursue. He thus abandoned the daily alms-giving tradition in preference for spending the allotted time on hearing complaints from his subjects or visiting them (they were permitted for the first time to look up and have a glimpse of the royal portrait).
The dilution of Dhamma also expanded into the ecclesiastic realm. Prince Vajiranana later commanded a momentous change in the ordination ceremony of the Thammayuti sect: They no longer had to utter a vow to practise in order to achieve enlightenment. The royal head monk perceived that such a statement would rather reflect insincerity on the part of the ordained.
Those transformations were not carried out as ends in themselves. Phra Paisal observes a peculiar trait in Theravada Buddhism: a close affinity between the Sangha and the national institution (be it the monarchy or the central government). The Buddhist Sangha was, and has been, exploited to serve the interests of the ruling class - a fact that would weaken both the religious institution itself as well as the lay public in the long run. How?
As the ruling elite embarked on a project to consolidate its power, Theravada Thai Buddhism became an indispensable means toward that goal. Integration, in both governance and schooling of monks, was thus of the utmost significance.
Here, Prince Vajiranana played a pivotal role in the centralisation process in the religious realm, which closely paralleled the secular transformation. There was a revamp in religious curriculum that stressed textual learning and a standardised annual test. (Teaching of meditation was thus discarded, "for it would be difficult to test the knowledge".) Prince Vajiranana wrote hundreds of textbooks and commentaries that continue to be used in temple schools and universities.
The Sangha governance was likewise divided and categorised into layers, from the village temple all the way to regional headquarters. The sole authority was entrusted to the king and later to the Supreme Patriarch (who, however, retained only a nominal role in later years). An elaborate set of decorations and financial rewards were devised as incentives - Prince Vajiranana was, again, responsible for coming up with 21 different titles (Samanasakdi) to reward monks who played by the new rules and had good connections with the powers-that-be.
The historic shift was not altogether smooth, however. In his research, Phra Paisal cited several stories that denote conflicts between monks sent from the central regime and their local counterparts. King Rama IV himself disdained the then popular folk-style preaching of Lord Buddha's past incarnations that incorporated entertaining characteristics, considering it to be rowdy, irrational and untruthful. Donations to such religious functions, said the monarch, could have been better spent on making a funeral pyre for dead stray dogs.
Accordingly, a sense of alienation and discord between the old and the new Sangha ensued.
"For there were two different, incompatible, cultures in place,'' wrote Phra Paisal. One professed rationalism, clear-cut content, tangible results in this lifetime and study of texts as a vehicle to realise Dhamma and the Truth. The other culture, meanwhile, espoused things that are beyond the boundaries of reason, the other world above the present one, an experience-based mode of learning, an oral form of teaching of allegories and parables, and importantly, a perception that Dhamma and enjoyment do not have to be mutually exclusive.
"As a result, those monks who were posted to provincial temples tended to hold the local versions of Buddhism in a negative light. Such conflicts could be presented as the divergences in world views. But underlying this was another type of significant differences - between city and rural cultures, or more specifically between royal court and folk cultures - that escalated the levels of disputes between the two groups. And then there was a subconscious ethnic bias, especially against the Lao locals.''
Soon enough, it was the modern, rational Buddhism that won the contest - with consequences. The religion was to be initially cited in nationalistic discourses, to justify the existence of the state. Gradually, however, Buddhist tenets and personnel were to be taken as subservient to the interests of the nation. Here arose a new religion - that of nationalism.
"It is worth noting that wherever Buddhism has been a predominant religion, when the spread of nationalism extends its grips, the very first precept - that thou shall not kill - will always be manipulated in a way that serves the nation-state,'' argued the scholar monk.
Indeed, all the five precepts were to be amended so that they fit within the new scheme of modernisation and national security. The infamous statement by a senior monk named Kittivuddho Bhikkhu at the height of the Cold War - that killing communists was not a demeritous act - was the epitome of such warped pragmatism. But there were many other instances compiled by Phra Paisal. When a military dictatorship implemented rapid industrialisation programmes, monks were dictated not to teach the value of Santosa (contentment with whatever is one's own, as opposed to unbridled lust or desire). Rather, they were advised to preach to the public to sacrifice for the sake of the nation and monarchy as another form of "Dhamma practice''. Curiously, King Rama IV also introduced a "crude'' version of the five precepts, for the laypeople, which tolerated an act of killing animals, lying, drinking and so on "as long as it enables one to survive and does not pose great harm to others''.
After all, the very notion that all Buddhists need to do is to follow the five precepts signifies the prevalence of this pragmatic form of Buddhism. Worse, the religious tenets have been reduced to catering only to the benefits of individuals or their immediate acquaintances.
Closely parallel to the dilution of Buddhist teaching is the growing distance between the temple and the lay public. Now monks are expected to conduct only the traditional routines within the ecclesiastical walls, aloof and indifferent to the affairs of the world.
"In the past, Theravada Buddhism prospered thanks to the close relationships between monks and villagers,'' Phra Paisal pointed out. "But when the two parties grow apart from each other, they will both weaken as a result."
"The [lay] community has become weaker because the temple lacks the ability to advise how they could interact with the outside world, with the flows of modernisation, in a constructive, enlightened manner. Meanwhile, the Sangha has also weakened since there is no support, no infusion of `new blood' from the lay people, most of whom have long forsaken the temple (as well as their own communities).''
Such lax conditions are conducive to an emergence of a new religion - and the most fearsome: consumerism. Subservience to the interests of the nation-state is only a step away from kowtowing to the dictates of the market and alluring cash rewards.
Phra Paisal notes how the rise in material prosperity of temples has been in parallel to the expansion of the cash-based capitalist economy, especially since the reign of King Rama V. Now the realm of faith has become a dynamic market where everything is turned into a commodity. The levels of sophistication are simply daunting. There are different, tailor-made merits to pay for. Superstition has also seeped back inside the temple walls - this time to offer instant, ready-made solutions to the seekers and cash for the performers.
Armies of "spiritual guides'' hit the streets with advanced marketing skills. Ordination has been touted as an "experience" to be consumed at least once in a lifetime. One can even taste the sensations of ultimate enlightenment - as something "soft, cool and translucent".
Again, the scholar monk points out how the ruling elite contributed to the merge of Buddhism and capitalism. Prince Vajiranana's lectures and writings contained several advertising passages for banking institutions and for-profit enterprises.
While the cult of nationalism promotes uniformity and homogeneity - that all Buddhists are Thai citizens - the proliferation of consumerism espouses diversity. It has to be so. There is a wide, eclectic array of modern-day Buddhists. Farmers who wish for a good harvest of their bumper crops. Officers who seek promotion. Salesmen, politicians, actors, students - they each have different sets of desires and levels of understandings of what Buddhism entails.
Phra Paisal sees a similarity of this motley religiosity to a collage of art.
"We thus witness a number of people who approach many religious beliefs at the same time - on a `trial' basis, not unlike consumption of goods. It is also easy for these people to discard any set of practices that no longer appeals to them, a little like shedding out-of-fashion clothes.''
The secularisation of Buddhism - from a community-based religion catering to nationalism and individualism respectively - has been subtle, but with immense ramifications. With the entrance of a plethora of foreign faiths, Thailand has become a supermarket of "new religions'' for the consumer to shop for and choose from.
Number of followers are no indication of quality, however. To the contrary, the present era witnesses the national religion in utmost disarray - there is impropriety of individual monks; inability of the Sangha to reform itself; and unresolved disputes over what constitutes genuine teachings of Lord Buddha, to name a few problems. At no other time has Theravada Thai Buddhism been in greater need of a new lease on life. Time is running out, but there is hope at the end of the tunnel.
