The Buddha's View Of Karma (2 of 2)
by Traleg Kyabgon Rinpoche
We need to clearly distinguish between the notions of rebirth and reincarnation. They refer to different things, though the terms are often used interchangeably. Essentially, reincarnation refers to exactly the same person’s coming back in another life, and this involves the idea of there being an intrinsic self, a soul. The Buddhist theory of rebirth does not posit that exactly the same person subsequently takes on a different life after death. The fact that many Buddhists probably believe in something like reincarnation does not make it the case that this is what the Buddha taught. In thinking of rebirth, we should not think that the same individual, or sentient creature, is being reborn.
Again, as the Buddha himself explained, it is “the same but different.” It is the notion of continuity that is addressed here, rather than a fixed kind of entity persisting and being transferred from one state of existence to another. This idea of continuity goes right through the Buddhist canon, encouraging us to actually reinvent ourselves at different stages of our journey. Thus if we look at all aspects of ourselves, change will be real. We do really change. For the Buddha, we are the same and not the same at different stages of life, and similarly, in respect to rebirth, coming back under karmic compulsion, it is not really “us.” Consciousness is pushed along by certain dispositions that have become transferred to our mental continuum, and these tendencies are brought along to our new birth.
The Buddha called this the “middle way” and described those who believed in a concept of a soul as “eternalists.” Believing that the exact same person or sentient creature is reborn over and over is to be an eternalist in Buddhist terminology. Those who maintain that there is no life after death, with nothing persisting after the final moment ceases, he called “nihilists.” The middle way approach avoids these two extreme views. Thinking of life in these terms, in our performing of karmic actions, and in our contemplation of survival after death in some form, we will recognise that karma not only determines our rebirth, but also the individual physical and mental differences and characteristics of people. Buddha was asked the following question in this quote from the Majjhima Nikāya Sutta, or Middle Length Sayings:
What now, Sir Gotama, is the cause, what the reason that lowness and excellence are seen among men even while they are in human form? For, Sir Gotama, short-lived men are seen, and long-lived ones are seen; men with many illnesses are seen, and ones free from illness are seen; ugly men are seen, and beautiful are seen; weak men are seen, and mighty are seen; poor men are seen and wealthy are seen; men of lowly families are seen, men of high families are seen; men of little wisdom are seen, and ones possessed of insight are seen. What now, Sir Gotama, is the cause, what the reason that lowness and excellence are seen among [them] even while they are in human form?
The Buddha’s reply was to the point. He said,
Possessed of their own kamma, young Brahman, beings are the heirs to kamma. . . . Kamma distinguishes beings, that is to say, by lowness and excellence.
Buddhism does not attribute the differences in individuals to a simple set of factors, such as the environment, but to karma. It is very much due to karma that we are born the way we are. It is our karmic inheritance. It is why some are rich, some poor, some beautiful, some not so beautiful, and so forth. Perhaps too, some have the potential to be beautiful, and the beautiful have the potential to be ugly. That also has to be attributed to karma. However, as we have also seen, the Buddha was highly critical of a sense of entitlement that comes through birth and breeding, such as the situation in traditional India, where being born into the upper class automatically ensured acceptance of one’s nobility, no matter what the particular ethics of the individual. At the other end of the hierarchy, the poor and disadvantaged can also become noble through their actions. Being born in poverty may be due to karma, but one can work on oneself and lift oneself up and out of that situation. One becomes noble through deeds, not by birth, according to Buddha. Due to karma we may not have many opportunities, but by doing what we currently do properly, we can create opportunities. An individual can move up or down the social ladder.
Our actions are dependent on our perception of things, what we think about them, and the types of emotions we consequently experience, and this brings us back around again to the sort of actions we perform. How we deal with these multiple layers of experience determines, in the end, whether we become a noble or an ignoble person. Individuals are responsible for their actions and create their own karma, and so have to bear the responsibility for those actions, and yet, as we have seen, the full extent of individual responsibility in the notion of karma is always difficult to determine in an exact way. Is it total? Are all one’s karmic actions performed purely on an individual basis? The Buddha thought not, stating that although a single individual may well perform a karmic action, how it ripens will vary. It may arise in a communal setting of some sort, so, in effect, it can practically take the form of shared karmic experience. For example, when something negative happens to a group of people, a family perhaps, everybody suffers. Even though the suffering stems from the actions of a single member, the others still suffer, not purely because of that particular member’s action, but due to the fact that everyone’s previous actions led them to all converge at this point of mutual experience, where all are adversely affected.
Conversely, when good things occur to a group of people, in most instances, it is not entirely accidental but due to a similar karmic history held and enacted in common, creating the common experience. In other words, even though individuals create karma, no one person suffers for no reason at all. Those who suffer due to the actions of a particular individual do so owing to their own karmic history. It can be conceived of as a karmic network, or a web of karma, where each individual experiences suffering or good fortune through mutual karmic history. It is also said that mutual karmic experience can influence our environment, including our natural environment. This idea can be seen in the sutras, and it is essentially what lies behind what we term “the power of prayer,” which is certainly recognised in Buddhism as helpful.
Karma actually makes more sense when we include the collective nature of it, as it underscores the interconnectedness of our karmic way of life. If one person’s karma and another’s are connected, it follows that a group of associated people will engender group karma. We already believe this in the West, in fact. For instance, when a huge mass of people becomes negative, we believe that they are practically taken over mentally by “mass hysteria” and that great harm and destruction can be done in this state. Even so, we do not seem to think it could work the other way around, in a positive way, even though it makes no sense at all for it to work one way and not the other. If we believe in things such as mass hysteria, then we obviously affirm the capacity of people joining together mentally, their minds becoming one, in a sense. If this is possible for negative mentalities, it should also be possible for it to happen in order to create something positive. Indeed the effect should be even more potent. Unfortunately, our tendency is always to believe in the negative way of behaving, in whatever form, individually or collectively. On the individual level, we think, “I’m just one person. What can I do? What effect is that going to have?” and collectively, we also think, “Oh, doing this is just a waste of time. How is it going to make any difference?”
Buddha continually emphasised our ability to attenuate the effects of our past karmic actions, through just that, through action — in the broader sense of what we think, say, and do. We are able to have bearing upon our karmic future, upon causes and conditions. Therefore, the Buddha did not see the issue of determinism and freedom as two diametrically opposed concepts, as it is often presented today. To see our situation as either free or not free is to once again take a dualistic perspective. Buddha believed in a soft form of determinism, acknowledging the very marked influence past deeds have on our current life experiences and situations while pointing to the freedom at our disposal to change our course. Certain things about us may be predetermined, but that does not translate to having no freedom to choose our direction in life. Free will and determinism go together. In fact, if we really think about it, we are able to have free will only when certain things are predetermined, otherwise free will in itself becomes a form of determinism, because invariably we are going to behave that way. Whatever action we are going to take, we are going to take it. That is not free will. For example, to do whatever it is we feel like doing is not exercising free will, as the preconditions are there for us to be able to do this. Therefore, in this case, our behaviour and action are predetermined by these pre-existing conditions — geographical, cultural, biological, sociological, psychological, and so on. Such factors have created the conditions that have produced the situation we inhabit. To exercise free will then, in any real sense, means to be capable of going against these determinants, of whatever variety, being able to surmount these obstacles. If we can do this, we exercise our free will.
If we believe in karma, we have to believe in this aspect of free will. Karma has two aspects then, the aspect of determinism and the notion of freedom. Yes, our life, the way we live it, is subject to certain pre-existing conditions, but that does not mean that we have to remain entrapped or limited by them. Buddha did, in fact, distinguish between old karma and new karma; the former karma has stronger determinism than the latter. Old karma leaves us with fewer choices, but even here we are not choiceless in terms of how our past karma manifests or comes to fruition.
The level of determinism in karmic theory attracts even more contention in relation to physical illness. The Buddha stated though that the cause of physical illness might not be due to karma. If he had not stated this, he might have left us with a form of karmic determinism. In the following dialogue, which is the form of many of his teachings, Buddha is asked a question by Sīvaka, and responds:
Certain experiences, Sīvaka, arise here originating from bile, . . . from phlegm, . . . from wind, . . . resulting from the humours of the body, . . . born of the changes of the seasons, . . . of being attacked by adversities, . . . of spasmodic attacks, . . . of the effect of kamma. And this ought to be known by yourself, Sīvaka, that certain experiences arise here as originating from bile, . . . as born of the effect of kamma. And this is considered as truth by the world, Sīvaka, that certain experiences arise here as originating from bile, . . . as born of the effect of kamma. Now, Sīvaka, those recluses and Brahmans who speak thus, who hold this view: “Whatever a human being experiences, whether pleasure, or pain, or neither pleasure nor pain — All this is by reason of what was done in the past,” they go beyond what is personally known, and what is considered as truth in the world. Therefore, I say of these recluses and Brahmans that they are wrong.
Here the Buddha seems to place a kind of caveat on the workings of karma. The response is given in the context of the Indian healing tradition, Ayurveda, which locates illness in imbalances of the humours, phlegm, bile, and so forth. The conclusion seems to be that, contrary to Brahmanical belief, although a lot of our illnesses may be due to karma, not all we experience, including physical illness, is due to karma. Even though Buddha did not explicitly state this, the suggestion is that our illness maybe just due to recklessness, negligence, or indifference to our physical well being. This type of behaviour may lead to the illnesses we suffer from, which is an interpretation consistent with Buddha’s other statements on karma. A brick may fall on our head outside a building site, but this may not be due to karma — an element of luck or fortune is allowed for. Karma is a theory of cause and effect, but it does not state that the presence of certain karmic causes and conditions will immediately induce the karmic effects. A variety of things need to be present for karmic effects to come to fruition. Sometimes there can be a delayed effect, which is often attributable to the fact that most human beings are not entirely bad or entirely good; and good people do bad things, and bad people do good things. Our karma is most often mixed.
A further modifier in terms of a one-to-one relationship between action and effect is the “taking stock” at the time of death, as we have looked at already. This highly significant moment in our life can change our mental outlook and effectively override much of the negative karma accumulated to that point, even if we have led a bad life overall. Our next birth may prove favourable. And yet, this does not necessarily mean we have avoided the outcomes of past karmic deeds. These karmic seeds can remain dormant, and once the effect of the good karma created at the moment of death wears off or exhausts itself, the karmic seeds laid in the individual mind stream in the past might resurface. That karma, or the effect of that karma, then resolves at some point, in due course.
We can see then that the Buddha paid a lot of attention to the idea of character, which is implied in the resolve at death but preferably thought about well before that event. We need to pay attention to deeds, but also, and more importantly, to the sort of person we have become. A good person, a person of character, performing an occasional bad deed, does not produce the same effect as a person of bad character performing the same action. The notion of character is very important due to Buddhism’s insistence that we do not have a stable, fixed kind of self-identity. What we have left to think about then, in terms of the persistence of our own individuality, hinges on the character we have built for ourselves in the course of our lives. That character constitutes the sum total of what we are as a human being; it represents our personhood. So the kind of person we have become, the sort of individual we are, is more important than the actions we perform. The actions we perform have to be thought of in terms of what we are as a human being.
This is important to contemplate because it implies that two individuals performing the same action at a given moment in time will not necessarily bear an identical karmic debt. Nor will the enactment of certain deeds mean that we shall immediately experience the karmic fruit, be it enjoyable or otherwise, all at once. It may happen in stages. To give an accessible example, if a kind hearted, generous person develops into a good character, he or she will attract other people and make many friends. These friends in turn act fondly back, encouraging that individual to flourish in quite a short time. He or she will quite literally become attractive to others, and people will inevitably gravitate toward this person socially, and at work, and so forth. Here we can see karma producing obvious, certain effects, but the Buddha stipulated that the real karmic effect, the full fruit of one’s karma, ripens in the next life. Some of the karmic fruit may ripen in the immediate future, but the rest ripens in another life — therefore it can ripen in stages and need not come to fruition all at once.
Another key to the Buddha’s view of karma is intention. Karmic actions are intimately related to our intentionality. Even though “karma” literally means action, it is not just the action itself that has portent. The intention with which acts are carried out is actually more important than the action itself. One can see this plainly, for instance, in the many offences discouraged in the quasi-legal language of the Vinaya, the rules of conduct for monks and nuns. Here actions are judged clearly in relation to the actor’s intentions, which is very different from the many Hindu philosophies of the Buddha’s time. The Jains, for example, promoted the idea of ahimsa, which means “non-harming.” They would (and still do) wear facial masks in case an unfortunate insect flies into their mouth, and they walk barefooted to prevent treading on insects on the ground. They are not trying to protect themselves from the insects, but the insects from the human being. One might describe the ideology behind this type of action as karma without intention, as intention is not considered at all. According to the Jains, whether a person has the intention to kill or not does not make any difference, because the act is the same — intent has nothing to do with consequence. Buddha thought the opposite and placed a premium on intention. Doing something in ignorance does not have the same effect as an action performed with intent. Along with this line of logic come notions related to intention: the sense of deliberateness with which one does something, the degree of planning and premeditation. Buddha was very clear on the importance of these factors, and many Western scholars have in fact praised him for bringing this idea fully into view.
The role of mitigating circumstances is similar to that of intention. The Buddha allowed for the relevant mitigating circumstances that might accompany the performance of a particular action. An individual who acts in a certain way would not necessarily experience the “usual” consequences of that particular action, depending on the mitigating circumstances. For example, if we did a good deed and felt some misgivings or regret about it, then the merit attached to the good deed would be diminished. Conversely, if we performed a terrible, or even evil, deed but felt regret after the fact, then the profoundly negative karmic consequences that might accrue would be diminished. Therefore one person’s acting in a particular manner does not mean that he or she will face the same consequences, or degree of consequences, as another person committing that same act. The Buddha actually said that we should not regret a good deed and we should regret an evil deed. In the former case, for instance, if we had generously given away something, only to later think, “Oh, gee, what did I do?” then the potential merit that we would have accrued (had we not regretted it) ends up being diminished. This emphasis on the centrality of intention is fundamental to Buddhist karmic theory, whereas historically, generally speaking, it had not been.
The Buddha’s great emphasis on character can be seen in the traditional Buddhist devotion to matters of virtue. Virtue is explained in terms of the supports, or pillars, necessary for it to stand. Morality and ethics (shila) constitute the first pillar, the performance of wholesome deeds — being patient, understanding, and exercising moral restraint. The second pillar is that of meditation (bhavana), or learning to focus our mind and develop mindfulness. The third pillar is that of generosity (dana). The overall idea here is based on an economy of means: instead of thinking about all kinds of virtuous qualities, that we should develop this, and that, and make a very long list, we should instead simplify things and focus on developing the three supporting qualities of virtue, and then everything will flourish of its own accord from there.
It is quite easy to see the relationship of karma to virtue and shila. We need to combine ethics, meditation, and wisdom in order to integrate Buddhism properly into our life. A singular focus on meditation, or shila, or on wisdom, is deficient. Nevertheless, the order in which they are presented is not accidental. The highest Buddhist training is wisdom, followed by meditation, and then shila. All are fundamental, though, and the practice of shila is central to the Buddhist perspective on karma. Patience holds a primary place in the practice of shila. Even Shantideva, who might be described as an almost puritanical Mahayana teacher, states in the Bodhicharyavatara that patience is one of the most worthy of virtues to cultivate, more so than love and compassion, because, according to him, if we have patience, love and compassion will surely arise in turn. Patience in this regard does not mean that we take things slowly but that when things go wrong, we do not feel defeated. Patience and effort in fact make each other bigger; they are paired together, operating in tandem, rather than simultaneously. For instance, it is not feasible to be in a relaxed happy-go-lucky mindset while practising vigour — that would be impossible, it would be akin to trying to stand and sit down at the same time. Rather, patience implies that we try our best, which will not always work out, but if we refuse to feel defeated by this, we will have achieved patience. We don’t revert to an “Oh I failed again” internal dialogue but think “Well, what could I have done to make it different?” In other words, we don’t go back to trying the same thing again. Instead, we think, “It didn’t work out this time, so there must be some reason why it didn’t work. I should look into what might have made the difference.” We have another go, with intelligence. Therefore, according to Shantideva, to not feel defeated is to be patient. It is also how we learn to create good karma and live our life fully.
It is also very interesting that Buddhism places generosity as the third, distinct pillar of virtue. It is sometimes given more emphasis than meditation practice, in fact, which no doubt has something to do with the selfless nature of the act, wanting to give pleasure to others. Again though, the Buddha made some interesting qualifications to it in terms of its relationship with karma. Simply being generous on its own does not automatically qualify as a virtuous deed. The object of generosity and the intention behind the generosity also come into play. To whom we are being generous, for example, is relevant. To be generous to a bad person, for instance, according to the Buddha, is not as good as being generous to a nice person. Here we can see the Buddha’s thinking on what is called the “spreading of merit.” If we are generous to a nice person, then that person will continue to spread the feeling, and so the merit will get shared around, whereas the same generous act toward an evil person will either result in this person misusing or abusing our generosity, or it will simply just stop short with him or her, whereby no one else at all will experience any benefit.
To put things plainly: for a good person to give a gift to another good person is different than a bad person’s giving a gift to a good person, which is different again than a bad person’s giving a gift to a bad person. A virtuous, noble person giving a gift to a deserving person, also of good character, warrants tremendous merit. If a bad person, of very weak or mean character, offers a gift to a very good person, then that too will produce merit, even though the giver is not particularly nice. It would still produce a good result. As we might guess, if a person of bad character gives a gift to another bad person, even though a form of generosity is being expressed, the produced results will not be beneficial. For instance, we might imagine a murderer giving a gun to an acquaintance. It is just in that person’s character to share his or her own bad habits and encourage friends to join in, and thus negativity spreads. Again, we have to look at the circumstantial factors that come into play, even with an act of generosity.
The intention behind the generous act is also very important. If we are generous with a hope of getting something in return, or to gain favour, then our good intention, and hence the benefit of the act, is diminished. This principle of intention translates to all forms of action, as we have seen, but the Buddha was emphatic about the importance of practising generosity and practising it properly. He even mentioned the size, or quality, of the gift — none of these things mattered to him. It could be a very impressive gift but produce little merit or benefit, or it could be a small gift that produced large results and an extremely beneficial effect. Again, then, it is the manner in which we practice generosity that counts, not how much or how little we are giving away.
It is most important to recognize that the Buddhist notion of karma does not entail ridding ourselves of bad karma in one fell stroke. It is much more a matter of wearing things down. If we persist and are not too impatient in what we are trying to do, and keep an eye on what will benefit us in the long run, then we will see the benefits, however small they may be initially. Small benefits should not be underestimated, as greater benefits follow from them. Even the very attempt to work with one’s past karmic traces and dispositions itself creates new positive karmic propensities — gradually one builds a different kind of propensity within. Indeed, the long-range view needs to be kept, as Buddhism holds that until one attains enlightenment, there will always be certain things we need to overcome. For instance, Buddha discussed four different kinds of spiritual aspirants: the stream-enterer, once-returner, non-returner, and arhant. The stream-enterer is one who has embarked on the path, entered the stream of the river of spirituality; the once-returner refers to a practitioner who has exhausted his or her negative karma over a period of time, and therefore may be reborn once more; the non-returner means one who will not be taking rebirth anymore; and then there is the arhant, which, literally translated, means foe destroyer. Here the foe is the five poisons of ignorance, desire, anger, jealousy, and pride — so the foe-destroyer is a sage who has conquered the five poisons. One can go still further, past these stages, working through more and more, until attaining ultimate freedom. These are complicated ideas, however, and we should not get too literal about the idea of non returning — suffice to say, it is Buddhism’s ultimate aim to exhaust or transcend karma.
At a fundamental level, the correct approach to karma, to cause and effect, is not to think of it too mechanically. We should not think that when we do something, we promptly and automatically experience the consequences. Rather we need to look at the different aspects of our lives, at what we might call the “fabric” of our karmic existence, as it interweaves with the warp and weft of action. It does not evolve in isolation, but in a dynamic context. Nor is it a form of fatalism, or determinism, or an ideological vehicle for accepting one’s lot in life. Karmic theory is actually meant to give the opposite message, to encourage us to become even more determined to improve ourselves and move forward. Motivation is critical to the whole idea. In this sense, karmic theory is fully compatible with having ambitions, aspirations, and desires of this nature. Otherwise, even the desire to want to free ourselves of karma would not be present. Therefore, we cannot think of just letting things be and doing nothing to create new karma, expecting the old propensities to work out in time, and that eventually we are bound to be free of karma. It is not presented this way. Nor is it a governing principle mysteriously arriving to assert a hold over our lives. Karma is created and perpetuated by our actions as we continue living — by our individual actions, and by our interactions with others. There is no singular governing principle called “karma,” but many different karmas and many different karmic patterns, karmic propensities, karmic causes and conditions. It is their mutually conditioning influence on each other that produces the life experiences we have.
In some ways, we seem to be “demystifying” karma to an extent, but karma is not altogether unmysterious either, because the level of complexity of interrelatedness has to be appreciated. There is a saying on this, which is that karma is behind each colour and pattern of a peacock’s feather. This does not imply that a peacock’s feathers have inherited certain karmic imprints but rather points to the idea of these colours and textures and combinations being so rich in detail, so complexly manifested, that it is extremely hard to understand how they came to be that way. Similarly, the interconnections between different karmic forces are very, very complex; so much so in fact that to fully understand it all is really beyond the capacities of most of us. We should, of course, endeavour to at least understand the basic principles and mechanics of how it works. This we can certainly do, but to exactly and fully understand the operation of karma requires one to be like the Buddha. In the meantime, we can start by endeavouring to understand how simpler things come about — the colours and textures of a brocade, for instance, which is relatively easy compared to comprehending the amazing workings of nature in the form of a peacock’s feather. The sheer complexity of the latter is what makes it so very difficult to comprehend, and in this very sense, the workings of karma are said to be infinitely subtle.
