We took our time getting to the issue of abuse in Buddhist sanghas—perhaps too long. We feared fanning the flames as communities grappled with painful scandals that were making headlines in the mainstream press. Still, in hindsight, I wish we had talked sooner.
Over the past few months, as we’ve delved into the subject of abuse, I’ve found myself incredulous at times that the abuse by mostly male Buddhist teachers has been shrouded in such secrecy for so long. I expect that from cults and gangs, but not from people like you and me—practitioners on the path who have taken a vow to save all sentient beings.
The real heroes in all of this are the whistleblowers who’ve risked incurring the wrath of their teachers and being ostracized by their dharma brothers and sisters. The task must be all the more painful for those who are victims of abuse.
This isn’t a unique story, of course. Every religion has seen its share of ethical misconduct and even gross abuse. In Canada, where I grew up, we are still dealing with the legacy of abuse of children by Catholic priests, decades after the fact. It’s heartbreaking to see the now middle-aged men and women brought to tears as they recount their experiences of abuse—abuse facilitated by a culture of deference toward the church.
Somehow, many of us thought Buddhism would be different. We wouldn’t succumb to the blind faith asked of our parents by traditional religion; our temples and centers would not become corrupt bureaucracies or havens for abuse. To be fair, most Buddhist teachers are ethical and caring. Most sanghas do offer safety and support. But it’s worth reflecting on how you would react if allegations of abuse or unethical conduct were made against your beloved teacher. Would you be quick to defend and deny? Would you try to find fault with the victim? Would you turn a blind eye?
In this issue, Rob Preece explores how we may need to rethink our relationship to our teachers in order to protect ourselves and others from abuse. In the Forum, our panel discusses the role that communities can and must play to foster ethical conduct and address wrongdoing. You’ll also find step-by-step recommendations for establishing ethical guidelines and procedures from An Olive Branch, an organization that offers its services as a neutral third party to help sanghas navigate conflict and upheaval brought on by ethical misconduct.
In the coming months, we’ll be posting interviews with practitioners who work in the trenches in the battle against abuse and violence against women, people who have lots of real-life wisdom to share. Come back to this page for regular updates and special features. Please share your thoughts and comments with us. On Twitter, join the conversation, tweeting to @LionsRoar, with the hashtag #ConfrontingAbuse. And talk with us on Facebook and Google Plus, or in the comments section, below. I hope you, too, will share your thoughts with us.
Hello tynett
This is a great topic. But please realize this ” abuse of power” is not a ” gender problem” . Most often male victim of abuse whether it be violence or abuse in any form. Male victims often don’t report it because again of the secrecy and shame associated with being a male victim in a male dominated culture their is a stigma about being a male victim among other men. So they keep silent. We all know that violence, abuse and addictions is not a gender problem but a ” human problem. Just yesterday someone hit the local newspapers due to another scandal of a ” abuse of power” leaving a 15 year old male victim in their wake. This is no laughing matter. Their are no double standards in regards to the male victims and female victim. Both of their perpetrators should get the same consequences. Abuse of power is still abuse. Plain and simple..
Yes, men are certainly targets of abuse and violence as well and we need to acknowledge that and support one another. However, I think those who work in this area would say that gender is a big factor when it comes to being the target of abuse of power.
The very fact that men feel differently and have different issues when deciding whether to report abuse is actually exactly what makes this a gendered problem. This isn’t a case of men against women and whose abuse is worse or harder to report, but a case against a system that hurts both men and women and that we need to fight against together.
Dualism will always want to fall on one side or the other of an issue, but the practice is to stay on the edge and lean in. I hope there will be further, lively discussion of the challenges dealing with maintaining the View (in Vajrayana) and this topic.
Thank you for writing this article and for the discussion. I believe that there is a misconception in Buddhist communities and the world at large that abuse is limited to violent rape. There is a whole range of behavior by teachers short of rape that can have devastating consequences on the student, such as seduction of new students, gas lighting, deception, and other boundary violations. When the teacher of beautiful spiritual truths is also the abuser, it can make the student feel that they are unworthy of the grace and care offered to everyone else. The pain of these experiences increase exponentially due to secondary wounding. Examples of secondary wounding are: immediately questioning a woman’s credibility, suggesting she leave the community if she is unhappy, forcing her to confront the abuser though mediation, or criticizing the woman’s anger while ignoring, rationalizing, and minimizing the conduct that gave rise to the anger. Shunning and silencing whistle blowers can have devastating consequences.
What bothers me is that it is seen as inevitable that teachers violate boundaries with students and all we can do is change the institutional response. I do not accept that. The reason it occurs with so much frequency is that it is overlooked with a wink and a nod. There is so much Buddhist communities can do to create environments that are inhospitable to predatory acts such as openly and honestly teaching all why it is so important to treat women with dignity, respect, and equality and by explaining to new students that good teachers don’t try to have sexual encounters with them and that feelings of vulnerability and tenderness are the result of the teachings, not the teacher.
Anyway, thanks.
The issue of celibacy and renouncing is so misunderstood. Anger that is held in will create an angry person in hiding. Same with sex, passion or power. The action of becoming free is a natural path, not a forced one. Spirituality forced will show up very odd, with high levels of guilt, shame and egoic mess. Teachers are humans, and we on earth. Remember your own inner truth and wisdom and find those who inspire that in you to help you remember further. Trust you first, then trust outside you is easy.
It’s a question of what kind of power we’re talking about. In most cultures, the perception will be that males have the power to make decisions. This idea is only perpetuated when those who fall outside the white male “privileged” sphere lose their voices, breeding a patriarchal environment.
Could this issue be less about power and more about fear? That is, the anxieties of losing identity in both cases. To the holders of privilege, the loss of who I am if I’m not holding a seat of control in each aspect of my life, including sexual. In the case of the minority, the fear of who I might become if I use my voice.
Thank you for raising this subject! May we keep this much needed conversation open and lively.
Perhaps one of the most frightening forms of abuse in the non-dual and Buddhist communities is the subtle ways in which some of the spiritual leaders profess to be pointing to the “the truth” as if there were only one truth. They may tell their followers that each one holds enlightenment within them, but in fact the structure is set up to very subtly hold the person as a follower of this “truth” rather than as someone drenched in her own light. And to stay in it too long is to have blinders on to the complexity and vastness of the spiritual world, which is everywhere and comes in myriad forms.
Thank you for bringing up a difficult, complex subject. In my own experience, I have seen two situations (involving individuals from two different religious traditions) in which leaders were accused of sexual misconduct. People knowing a great deal about the situations differed in their conclusions about the truth in each situation. The result in both cases was the ouster of the accused from his religious community, with devastating personal consequences. I am concerned the pendulum may swing too far in the other direction now. If our intention is to serve the Dharma then I feel we must avoid a rush to judgement of anyone, the accuser or the accused.
To the above commenter . . . the instances of false reports of sexual assault are extremely rare. If you start by believing the person who reports sexual assault, 98 times out of 100, you will get it right. As we have seen in the media, women do not come forward to report sexual boundary violations because of the tendency to rationalize, diminish, and disbelieve targets. My life was shattered by the age of 10 because I reported abuse in a church and no one believed me. My abuser went on to harm multiple other women because of the tendency of religious people “not to want to rush to judgment.” For god’s sake, start by believing.
It is imperative we do start by believing those who have broken through the considerable cultural barriers that prevent reporting abuse. This is especially important concerning children, as their first disclosure will often be their only disclosure, and how we respond to that will have deep repercussions for the child, their family, and the community.
In my community work, I often am addressing language that gets used in response to disclosures of abuse such as “avoiding a rush to judgement”, “innocent until proven guilty”, “there are two sides to every story”, or “it takes two to tango”, etc. There is much about this language that betrays our cultural reluctance to support women, children, youth and others who have summoned up the enormous bravery needed to come forward about abuses.
I would like to highlight one of the problems in these sorts of responses: it assumes that abuse is mainly to be regarded as a “conflict” that has taken place between two people. Instead I would like to offer what I feel is a more helpful paradigm: seeing abuse, and in particular the abuse of children, as a population health problem, a community phenomenon which requires community acknowledgement and action. For example, people experiencing signs of Ebola, tuberculosis, AIDS and other diseases are expected to come forward and seek help, and we are grateful when they do, the earlier the better. They are then supported to regain health, and their points of contact are identified, approached and also offered opportunities to become safe and healthy. The community and individuals are then protected. We need to start becoming more comfortable with such a paradigm for abuse disclosures, and discard patriarchal ones that serve to suppress disclosures and reinforce the status quo. By applying a new attitude to all disclosures of abuse, including those from children, we will begin to see safer communities.
Will the series include a thorough examination and exploration of the sexual relations of Chogyam Trungpa with his students and if these involved abuses of power? This is a cloud that continues to hang over him and this is a great opportunity to take an honest look at the issue.