- Buddhism and the Morality of Abortion
- By Michael G. Barnhart
- Kingsborough, CUNY
(I)
It is quite clear from a variety of sources that abortion has been severely disapproved
of in the Buddhist tradition. It is also equally clear that abortion has been
tolerated in Buddhist Japan and accommodated under exceptional circumstances by some
modern Buddhists in the U.S. (1) Those
sources most often cited that prohibit abortion are Theravaadin and ancient. By
contrast, Japanese Buddhism as well as the traditions out of which a more lenient approach
emerges are more recent and Mahaayaana traditions. Superficially, the situation
seems not unlike that of Roman Catholicism, where abortion, though disapproved of in the
strongest terms by Church authorities drawing on the canonical tradition, is nonetheless
practiced by a large number of devout Catholics and defended by at least a few, sometimes
renegade, theologians and philosophers, as acceptable in some circumstances.
Therefore, if it makes sense to speak of a possible Catholic defense of abortion, then it
makes equally good sense to speak of a Buddhist defense of abortion, a defense made in
full knowledge that one is swimming against the tide of conventional interpretation but
still within the tradition.
In other words, I am not so much concerned to show that Buddhism has, does, or will
support the choice to abort or one's right to make such a choice as I am to show that such
a choice can be made in a manner consistent with Buddhist principles. Buddhism
itself, therefore, speaks with more than one moral voice on this issue, and furthermore,
the nature of the moral debate may have important applications for similarly situated
others and constitute an enlargement of the repertoire of applicable moral theories and
rationales.
(II)
One of the strongest antiabortion cases from a Buddhist perspective emerges in Damien
Keown's wonderfully thorough and insightful analysis of Buddhism's bioethical
ramifications in the book Buddhism and Bioethics. (2) Keown argues that the preponderance of the Buddhist traditon is
overwhelmingly antiabortionist. In support, he develops two lines of argument.
The first relies on the nearly uniform rejection of abortion, especially in ancient
Theravaada texts, what Keown regards as the core of the tradition. Here I believe he
is on fairly firm ground although I am uncertain regarding his preference for what he
calls "Buddhist fundamentalism" and his concomitant emphasis on "scriptural
authority." (3) The second line of
argument concerns his interpretation of these sources and their connection to the basic
tenets of Buddhism regarding the nature of personal identity and the skandhas,
karma and rebirth, life and death.
I find Keown's discussion of the sources that directly relate to the question of
abortion fairly convincing. Especially in the Pi.takas, or in Buddhagosa's
commentaries, it seems quite clear that the practice of abortion is considered
unacceptable. However, as Keown points out, (92) the cases dealt with involve women
seeking abortions for questionable, perhaps self-serving, reasons including
"concealing extramarital affairs, preventing inheritances, and domestic rivalry
between co-wives." In short, if these are the paradigm examples of abortion,
then the case is heavily biased against the practice. Keown does comment in an
endnote that Buddhism would surely have sided with a woman seeking an abortion in order to
save her own life, a position he attributes to Hindu jurists of the time. Why
Buddhism would make such an exception is unclear, especially given the case Keown builds
against the practice. For if abortion is always in violation of the First Precept
against taking life, especially such karmically advanced life as that of a developing
human being, then why should the mother's imperiled condition make a difference? Why
prefer one life to another?
One might, of course, argue that abortion in such circumstances was a form of
self-defense. Indeed, Keown seems to feel that killing in self-defense is not itself
an example of taking life (again indicated in an endnote). But pregnancy and its
associated dangers present a wholly different kind of situation from that of
self-defense. In the case of a fetus, if the mother's life is in jeopardy, it is not
because the fetus is in some manner attacking the mother as in most such cases.
Rather, the mother's medical condition renders her unable to carry a fetus to term or give
birth safely. Even if it is the fetus's medical condition that jeopardizes the
mother, it is in no way analogous to a physical attack. The fetus is not responsible
for its medical condition and in no way intends to harm its mother. Hence, the
question why such special exceptions to a general prohibition on abortion are acceptable
remains unanswered. Correlatively, if such exceptions can be made, why not make them
in other, perhaps less threatening but still serious, circumstances?
Yet whether or not early Buddhism's condemnation of abortion is fully rationalized or
not, the fact is that the scriptural evidence is against it. However, when it comes
to connecting the apparent condemnation of abortion with the deeper inspirations of
Buddhism, the case is less compelling and perhaps affords a toehold in the Theravaada
tradition for a different evaluation of abortion. Keown argues that the First
Precept and its prohibition against taking life is part of a much larger reverence for
life, life being one of Buddhism's three basic goods -- life, wisdom and
"friendship" (Keown's spin on karuna and other associated
qualities). While respect for life is undeniable, the abortion issue usually hinges
on whether the fetus is indeed a life in the relevant sense, and one could challenge
either Buddhism or Keown on this point. That is, as Keown makes quite clear, though
Buddhism values life, it does not value all life equally, and human life as a karmically
advanced stage is particularly important. The fetus at any stage in its development
is certainly in some measure living, but it is not obviously a recognizable human being at
every stage. As a mere conceptus it lacks, of course, many of the attributes one
might label distinctively human except its genotype. Therefore, unless one insists,
reductionistically, that a certain genetic sequence just is the essence of our
humanity, one cannot say that a fertilized egg is a karmically advanced human being just
because it is a fertilized egg.
In other words, one needs a theory as to what constitutes a human being, a human life,
and therefore a thing worthy of the greatest possible protection. This Keown
attempts to provide through a discussion of the traditional skandha theory and its
implications for the various embryonic stages of human development. With few
exceptions, which I will return to, Keown argues that a fertilized egg is a fully human
being because the ingredient most essential to such a life is already present -- vi~n~naa.na
(in the Pali). vi~n~naa.na, usually translated as consciousness, is of course
only one of five traditional components of a living being. The other four are the
following: form (the body), feeling, thought, and character or disposition. (4) Keown's argument for treating vi~n~naa.na
as the most essential group is perhaps best stated in his discussion and rejection of
sentience as the basic moral criterion for respect as a living being. He says,
the most fundamental [category] is consciousness (vi~n~naa.na), the fifth.
To specify vi~n~naa.na, the criterion of moral status is, however, simply to say
that all living beings have moral status, since it is impossible to isolate vi~n~naa.na
from the psychosomatic totality of a living being. It is impossible to point to vi~n~naa.na
without in the same act pointing to a living creature, just as it is impossible to point
to 'shape' without referencing a physical object. (5)
Although he does add, perhaps inconsistently,
Overall, since neither vi~n~naa.na nor any other of the five categories by
themselves can adequately encompass the nature of a living being, there is reason to be
suspicious of any view which claims to locate in any one of them what is essential in
human nature. (Keown 36)
Earlier he claims that "although feeling and thought define the architecture of
experience, it is . . . vi~n~naa.na which constitutes it."
What I take Keown to be arguing here is that vi~n~naa.na is the most important
of the skandhas which, to my mind at least, seems most unBuddhistic. As he
himself notes and the Pali canon repeats ad nauseum, it is the conjunction of all
five of the groups that constitute a living being, at least by any meaning of constitute
that I am aware of. So, why the emphasis on vi~n~naa.na? The
above-stated reasons are, to my mind, weak. It is no less true that without a body,
without sensation, without disposition (in the sense of a karmic past), one would not be a
living, at least human, being. That is, lacking form, a body, perhaps one could
qualify as a hungry ghost, but the Pali texts are very clear that the "groups"
form the basis of the human ego, or at least the illusion of an ego.
"Accordingly, he [Buddha] laid down only five groups, because it is only these that
can afford a basis for the figment of an ego or of anything related to an Ego". (6) Hence, no conjunction of the skandhas, no
ego-delusion is possible; and furthermore, no basis, consequently, for what Keown
identifies as an ontological individual apart from its various phenomenal qualities.
In short, it is impossible to isolate any of these groups from "the psychosomatic totality
of a living being."
That said, it is important to consider further what Keown means by the term vi~n~naa.na.
His chosen translation is not actually 'consciousness' but 'spirit' which I think raises
if not antiBuddhist then at least unBuddhist associations and implications. Keown
rejects the traditional "consciousness" translation of vi~n~naa.na
because "the experience of vi~n~naa.na in this form [as consciousness] . . .
is merely one of its many modes. It is better understood as functioning at a deeper
level and underlying all the powers of an organism" (Keown 25). He goes
on to remark that "vi~n~naa.na resembles certain Aristotelian-derived notions
of the soul in Christianity, namely as 'the spiritual principle in man which organizes,
sustains, and activates his physical components.'" This then becomes the
justification for the claim that 'spirit' is an appropriate translation of vi~n~naa.na.
There are times, however, when the refusal to use the obvious English term hinders
rather than helps the process of understanding. The term in question is 'spirit',
and I do not think it would be misleading to refer to vi~n~naa.na in certain
contexts as the spirit of an individual. vi~n~naa.na is the spiritual
DNA which defines a person as the individual they are. (Keown 25)
Rather confusingly, he compares the role of vi~n~naa.na with that of the
electricity in a computer in order to clarify the kind of constituting spirituality he has
in mind.
An electrical current flows through the computer and is invisibly present in every
functional part. When the power is on, many complex operations can take place; when the
power is off the computer is a sophisticated but useless pile of junk. Like electricity, vi~n~naa.na
empowers an organism to perform its function. (Keown 27)
The reason I find this association confusing is that rather than being "invisibly
present," electricity is all too visibly present. Electricity is a physical,
not a spiritual, phenomenon. And if vi~n~naa.na is to be understood on such a
model, then not only is it no longer ghostly but no longer fulfills the functional purpose
of accounting for the "spiritual principle in man which organizes, sustains, and
activates his physical components." Electricity may, in a loose sense, animate
a computer, but it doesn't in any way organize its physical components. Keown seems
to be entertaining two rather different conceptions of vi~n~naa.na. On the
one hand, it is a quasi-Aristotelian soul-like entelechy that individuates and constitutes
an ontological individual moving along the karmic ladder to eventual enlightenment.
Ultimately, what I find unBuddhistic about such an interpretation is not the almost
antithetical mixture of psychological and physical characteristics, but the purpose to
which this hybrid is put and its association with the concept of a soul. That Keown
intends to make such a connection is very clear, especially when he remarks that vi~n~naa.na
so understood acts "as the carrier-wave of a person's moral identity; in the stage of
transition between one life and the next . . . [I]t may be referred to as 'spirit'.
An alternative designation for vi~n~naa.na in the state of transition between lives
is the gandhabba, which will be translated as the 'intermediate being'" (Keown
26). Thus, vi~n~naa.na is meant to account for individual moral
responsibility across the various stages of karmic life, including rebirth, to eventual
nirvana.
However, such an account of human life still does not square with Buddhism's rejection
of the Ego or atman. Indeed, Keown's version of vi~n~naa.na rather
resembles a Vedantic understanding of atman. Elsewhere he argues that the
"moral identity" he mentions is not what Locke, for example, would identify as
'personhood'. Keown's notion is much broader, while Locke's concept with its
attendant qualities of rationality and self-consciousness is inappropriate for a Buddhist
anthropology. Such qualities or capacities flower at different times in the course
of an individual's evolution; hence, if all stages of individual existence are morally
significant because they are karmically continuous, then a suitably broad understanding of
the individual is required in order to valorize the entirety of a human life so
understood. The strength of the atman concept lies in its transcendental
vision of an individual life and support for a moral identity which holds across chains of
rebirth. In short, the atman as it is traditionally understood accomplishes
exactly these functions, preserving moral identity, while at the same time remaining
irreducible to any particular human characteristic, including self-consciousness, as well
as all human characteristics collectively. In other words, if Keown is looking for a
translation of the term vi~n~naa.na other than 'consciousness', the term 'soul'
seems better suited than 'spirit'.
However, it is exactly such a principle or entity which the Buddhist skandha
theory would deny. An individual as such, the Pitakas argue, is like a
chariot, not really there. If presented a chariot, a Buddhist would ask,
"Where, exactly, is the chariot?"
Your majesty if you came in a chariot, declare to me the chariot . . . the word
'chariot' is but a way of counting, term, appellation, convenient designation, and name
for pole, axle, wheels, chariot-body, and banner-staff.
Similarly,
Nagasena is but a way of counting, term, appellation, convenient designation, mere name
for the hair of my head . . . brain of the head, form, sensation, perception, the
predispositions, and consciousness. But in the absolute sense there is no Ego here
to be found. (7)
In other words, no atman whatsoever and, arguably, no ontological individual
either. In fact, "strictly speaking, the duration of the life of a living being
is exceedingly brief, lasting only while a thought lasts." (8) Buddhists, even early Theravaada Buddhists, seem to feel they can
get along quite well without anything which might subtend the processes of existence, of sa.msaara,
and provide "moral identity," ontological continuity, or the spiritual DNA
explaining anyone's present predicament. The question really comes down to whether vi~n~naa.na
or any other quality need endure to explain personality or transmigrate in order to
explain rebirth and karma. Keown seems to feel that logically something must and vi~n~naa.na
is the best candidate. However, the scriptural evidence is missing, and furthermore
a non-substantialist and thoroughly non-Aristotelian explanation of rebirth can be given.
Supposing we understand rebirth not as the rebirth of someone but as a mere succession
or process. In this view, all acts or events share some form of dependent connection
(pa.ticcasamuppaada). Therefore, actions and events that take place now share
intrinsic connections to actions and events in the past and in the future along any number
of natural dimensions. In the case of human beings, these dimensions correspond to
the skandhas. Form, sensation, and so on all represent various sorts of dependency
between phenomena. Because there is no self, soul, or ego we can look at this
process in two different manners corresponding to the difference between enlightenment and
delusion. On the one hand, we can look at the process as a mere empty process
wherein nothing essentially happens, completely detached and hence freed from the bondage
of desire or the expectations of life, and importantly, the anxieties of death. This
represents an enlightened approach which is not an expectation of transmigration because
there is nothing to be reborn. (9) So, the
Buddha claims, this death is his last. Or, we can look at the process from the
standpoint of belief in a thing that perdures. From this perspective, there is
rebirth as transmigration, the expectation of future lives, the existence of past lives,
and so on. One must, perforce, explain the process as the biography of someone,
hence the fiction of an ego becomes necessary. It is this last which tempts us to
rely on such quasi-Aristotelian notions as souls, spirits, or "spiritual DNA."
To be fair, Keown is aware of these issues and argues at several points that vi~n~naa.na
is not really a soul not is it a "subject of experience" (Keown 26). He
eloquently states
Buddhism does not ground its ethics in a metaphysical soul or self, and denies that any
such thing exists. According to Buddhism, the five categories are what remain when
the 'soul' is deconstructed. (Keown 28)
To which I would simply add, why do we need to speak of "spiritual DNA" or
"moral identity" in order to make sense of Buddhism? These categories
themselves seem equally prone to fixation and quite contrary to the basic notion of anatta.
In other words, I would argue that like all the other groups -- form, sensation, and the
like -- vi~n~naa.na also does not endure, either across or within lifetimes.
None of the groups do, and this is the essential feature of the anattaa
doctrine. Hence, I would not equate vi~n~naa.na in the state of transition
with anything, much less the gandhabba, simply because it is not
transitional. (10)
Keown makes much of the gandhabba's essential role in the process of conception
as portrayed in various Buddhist sources, interpreting the descent of the intermediate
being when biological conditions at the time of conception are just right as offering what
looks very much like an account of ensoulment. Such a strategy then justifies
Keown's claim that for Buddhists "in the overwhelming majority of cases individual
life is generated through sexual reproduction and begins at fertilization" (Keown
91). (11) Consequently, abortion is
immoral because it deprives an individual of life and so violates the First Precept
against the intentional taking of life.
In terms of a Buddhist defense of abortion, the main difficulty with Keown's analysis
has to do with his understanding of the Buddhist view of life which subsumes abortion
under the general heading of intentional killing. Given my understanding of anatta,
I see no reason to subscribe to Keown's understanding of the Buddhist view of human
life. For Keown, all biologically human life is normatively significant because it
is animated by the descended gandhabba, thus conferring the singularity necessary
to view it as ontologically individual. However, given the distinction between the
groups, I see no reason why a committed Buddhist can't hold that just because one has a
body, form or rupa, one doesn't necessarily have a human life, especially one
worthy of the strongest protection. A human life, in the moral sense, starts
unambiguously when all the skandhas are in place, and the Buddha as well as
the early Buddhist scriptures leave room for a rather large number of interpretations as
to exactly when such a condition occurs in the process of embryonic development. I
suspect that much of Keown's enthusiasm for his interpretation stems from the ready
parallels that may be drawn between the natural law tradition of Roman Catholicism and
Buddhism if one's vi~n~naa.na is identical to the soul-like gandhabba that
pops into the development process. (12)
However, as we have seen, such an assumption provides Buddhism with a form of ensoulment
that it goes to great lengths to avoid.
If vi~n~naa.na does not in any way subtend the karmic process from individual to
individual and may even be completely episodic within the context of an individual life,
then (1) I see no reason to interpret vi~n~naa.na as anything other than
consciousness or some such equivalent, and (2) Buddhism need not take vi~n~naa.na
to be present at any particular point in the process of embryonic development. That
is, vi~n~naa.na or consciousness is present whenever one would customarily say it
is and that could be just as well at viability as at conception. In fact, we would
generally hold consciousness to be present only when, minimally, the cerebral cortex
develops and perhaps later. (13) Thus,
even though a Buddhist would hold that consciousness provides the platform for mind and
body, making any conscious being a living being worthy of moral consideration, it is not
clear exactly when such a point might first occur. Furthermore, even if scriptural
sources would locate this point early on in the embryonic process, a Buddhist could still
coherently question any such time designation as potentially arbitrary mainly because, as
I have argued, Buddhism lacks any comprehensive theory or deep-level principle that requires
the presence of consciousness or an intermediate being at any particular point in the
biological process of human development.
In fact, Keown admits that a Buddhist could hold the above position as the Buddha laid
down several conditions covering ontogeny, some strictly biological and mainly regarding
coitus and the mingling of sperm and, mistakenly, "menstrual blood." That
is, even on Keown's analysis, Buddhism traditionally separates the biological basis
for life from the individual life itself. Thus, a fertilized ovum is arguably a
necessary but not sufficient condition for a new life. Rather, one requires the
presence of the full complement of groups including vi~n~naa.na to complete the
development of an individual life. However, this allows "the material basis for
life to arise on its own" (Keown 81), which Keown admits seems to contradict the
assumption that the biological and spiritual basis must always arise together. Keown
replies that if an unanimated conceptus is possible, its long-term survival is not for it
is not "a new individual," and therefore "from the standpoint of Buddhist
doctrine it would seem impossible for it to develop very far."
The justification for this claim is the Buddha's statement "that if consciousness
were 'extirpated' from one still young, then normal growth and development could not
continue" (Keown 81). Incidentally, this claim also forms the basis for Keown's
view that PVS patients (those in a "persistent vegetative state") are still
individuals worthy of moral protection and should not be ruled as dead, as some advocates
of a higher-brain definition of death would allow. That is, their continued and
stabilized biological existence (some can live on for decades) demonstrates the presence
of vi~n~naa.na and hence individual life.
However, a liberal Buddhist could claim that while the loss of vi~n~naa.na might
curtail growth and development, it is not clear that vi~n~naa.na's never having
arisen need affect the biological development of the material basis of an individual's
life. Indeed, one might argue that (1) because "extirpation" of
consciousness from one who already possesses it usually involves physical trauma, of
course we would expect normal growth and development to stop; or (2) even though vi~n~naa.na
is essential to the life of an individual and its irretrievable loss signals the
individual's demise, it doesn't follow that the mere biological platform and its growth
and development signal the inevitable presence of vi~n~naa.na. (14) That is, it doesn't follow that vi~n~naa.na,
however we interpret it, is essential to the life of the biological organism. Especially
if, as Keown suggests, Buddhism allows the presence of the material basis of life without
that of the gandhabba, then I don't see how Buddhism can rule out the possibility
of simply a more extended existence of that material basis without vi~n~naa.na.
The biological basis of life may be organically integrated in the manner of a functional
organism, but it is not itself the same thing as an individual life. I see no
compelling rationale, based on Buddhist principles as articulated in the early scriptures,
absolutely requiring the 'individual life begins at conception' point of view of radically
pro-life antiabortionism.
I grant that the early Buddhist scriptures do seem to have a somewhat
pro-life orientation. Yet, on closer inspection, I'm not sure the footing is there
mostly because of the lack of a theory of ensoulment. Furthermore, had Buddhists of
the time faced the bewildering medical possibilities of the late twentieth century, I'm
not at all sure how doctrine would have evolved. For example, anencephaly, PVS and
various other comatose conditions where patients exist in only the most minimal sense and
on life support, not to mention transplant surgery, the advances in human genetics, and so
on surely pose a challenge to traditional ways of regarding the human body. Many of
these cases are, to my mind, simply waved aside by Keown (or his version of
Buddhism). To claim that the pro-life stance of Buddhism simply means that PVS
patients are fully alive (15) is not to
do justice to the complexities of the cases or of Buddhism, both of which suggest that
'life' is an extremely complex 'dependently arisen' phenomenon. (16)
(III)
If one keeps to the traditional translation/interpretation of vi~n~naa.na as
consciousness, rejects any kind of soul, spirit, atman, or ego as a subsistent core
of individual being either for the course of many karmic lives or a single individual
karmic life, then I see no reason why even a Theravaada Buddhist could not adopt a
socially liberal position on abortion as well as a variety of other biomedical
issues. This is not to say abortion would be a trivial matter, but the idea that it
necessarily demonstrates disrespect for present life would be undermined. Of course,
since abortion does compromise future life, it is still a morally serious matter, but as
such it does not of itself violate the First Precept. A prohibition on killing is
not an injunction to "be fruitful and multiply" by bringing into existence as
much future life as is possible. (17)
Rather, as long as consciousness is not yet deemed present, we face the material basis of
a life, not the individual life itself.
In many ways, this version of the Buddhist view would echo what bioethicist Bonnie
Steinbock has called the "interest view":
On the interest view, embryos and preconscious fetuses lack moral status, despite that
they are potentially people . . . the fact that a being has the capacity to develop into a
person, does not mean that it has any interest in doing so, or any interests at all, for
that matter. And without interest, a being can have no claim to our moral attention
and concern. (18)
However, Steinbock does go on to argue that one's potential personhood does make
a moral difference in regard to interested beings. So, in her view, a human infant
rates more highly than even a fully developed chimpanzee on the grounds that chimpanzees
are not moral persons in any relevant sense. (19)
The similarity to Buddhism rests on the role of consciousness or what is sometimes
called "the developed capacity for consciousness." (20) As Keown tirelessly point out, the presence of vi~n~naa.na
is the key to individual status. If vi~n~naa.na is consciousness and
represents the platform on which mind and body are conjoined, then the presence of vi~n~naa.na
signals a karmically significant stage, that of an individual life for which either
release or rebirth are the twin possibilities marking moral success or failure.
Thus, on the Buddhist view, human life consists of a physical body and various
sensori-motor capacities, conjoined with a mind or intellect all sporting a karmically
conditioned past, that is always in context; individuals do not have any non-contextual
existence. Consciousness is indeed the platform of mind and body. The body is
not itself the mind, and there is no hint of physicalism or reductionism in this
understanding of human nature. The mind, however, is always passing away; mind is
identical to thoughts and these are fleeting. The stream of consciousness, one could
say, is a Heraclitean river, never the same exact thing twice. Consciousness is the
developed capacity for such a stream in a physical context. But does this not mean
that consciousness, the mental stream of thoughts, the sensori-motor complex, or one's
karmic context are themselves the subsistent individual? Rather, to the degree such
elements co-arise we have an individual and the permanent absence of any of the groups is
the loss of an individual. Surely, there is at least prima facie plausibility
in the claim that without your body you do not exist; without your consciousness you do
not exist; without your mind you do not exist. But all of them together do not
create some other thing we call the person which exists apart from these qualities, nor
something that goes on after or existed before. Hence, each and every one of us is
egoless strictly speaking, though we still retain "moral identity" and so can be
held accountable for our actions. In short, when it comes to individual identity,
Buddhism takes a similar position to philosophical nominalism. (21)
When it comes to marking the temporal boundaries of a human life, therefore, such
Buddhist nominalism tolerates a fair degree of imprecision. The only way of working
out a fairly acceptable answer to the question when does life begin and when does it end
would probably be through the process of analogizing. We can say that each of us is
a living, morally significant being. The question becomes how much like us are other
beings. How similarly situated do we take them to be? My suspicion is that
some of the variation one finds in Buddhist texts over whether to treat various life forms
as deserving of compassion reflects differences in individual abilities to imaginatively
extend such analogies so as to creatively identify with the pleasures and pains of other
beings, especially animals. Does a fetus constitute a morally significant
being? The answer would depend on how like us any particular fetus is. Surely,
a late term fetus is, not so certainly a fetus on the threshold of viability, and
dubiously a conceptus.
Of course, such an approach does not help too much in the process of line
drawing. But there are other Buddhist resources that may assist the line
drawer. Any such act would be a matter of conscience, a morally significant act for
the individual reflecting on such distinctions, as perhaps in the process of contemplating
an abortion. What is important in situations of this nature is to negotiate the
pitfalls of attachment and desire. Correct line drawing is not based in metaphysical
distinctions regarding personhood, but in the moral fiber of the line drawer and the
complex interweave of circumstance and motivation that color and inform practical
judgments. Appropriate questions for reflection might be the following: What am I
seeking to gain? Why am I having or not having this child? What sort of life
is possible for this child? How do I feel towards this life, this new being?
What kind of pain and suffering is involved in either life or abortion? In short,
all those questions which people do typically seem to mull over when faced with unwanted
pregnancies.
In short, though Buddhism encourages compassionate action, the question as to what is
compassionate in the case of an unwanted pregnancy cannot be peremptorily answered by
metaphysical proclamations as to when life begins. Thus, without leaving the
province of a conservative Theravaada Buddhism, a traditionalist Buddhism, one need not
embrace the radical antiabortionism of Keown's Buddhist. Some confirmation of such a
position can be found in testimony collected in William R. LaFleur's book Liquid Life.
A Japanese woman and committed Buddhist reflects on the practice of tatari or
propitiating the soul of a dead fetus in order to avert posthumous revenge.
Buddhism has its origin in the rejection of any notion of souls . . . that souls cast
spells . . . Of course we who are Buddhists will hold to the end that a fetus is
"life." No matter what kind of conditions make abortion necessary we
cannot completely justify it. But to us it is not just fetuses; all forms of life
deserve our respect. We may not turn them into our private possessions.
Animals too. Even rice and wheat shares in life's sanctity. Nevertheless as
long as we are alive it is necessary for us to go on "taking" the lives of
various kinds of such beings. Even in the context of trying to rectify the
contradictions and inequalities in our society, we sometimes remove from our bodies that
which is the life potential of infants. We women need to bring this out as one of
society's problems, but at the same time it needs to be said that the life of all humans
is full of things that cannot be whitewashed over. Life is full of wounds and
woundings. In Japan, however, there is always the danger of mindless religion.
There are also lots of movements that are anti-modern and they are tangled up with the
resurgence of concern about the souls of the dead. (22)
It is, of course, arguable that this way of looking at the issue is fundamentally
incoherent. Either we are intentionally taking life or we are not, and if we are,
then we violate Buddhism's First Precept. The response a Buddhist may make, such
Ochiai Seiko's above, is in essence, "Yes, we should always avoid the ending of a
life, no matter how insignificant it may seem." But 'life' is an ambiguous
term, and the ending of one form of life in the service of others is not necessarily
prohibited in Buddhism. And if one's intention is not so much to end a life as to
rescue others, then we are not dealing with a simple case of intentionally killing.
In other words, compassionate action will always involve weighing up the full range of
circumstances that bear on a situation or action. On this view, the point of the
First Precept is to disqualify intentional killing where the clear purpose is to end an
individual life. Such an action can never be compassionate in Buddhist eyes.
However, questions as to the status and nature of the lives one weighs in such tricky
situations where interests clash are obviously relevant. If we are talking about the
lives and interests of mothers and fetuses, fetuses and families, or fetuses and
communities (such as in times of famine), then we are directly faced with the issue of the
relative moral standing of different sorts of life. What I have argued here is that
because Buddhism allows a distinction between the biological basis of life and its higher
cognitive as well as affective aspects and insists that an individual human life requires
the conjunction of all such aspects, no Buddhist need equate a presentient fetus with a
sentient human. Thus, Ochiai's insistence that in dealing with the messiness of
everyday living, abortion may qualify as a compassionate response need not contradict
Buddhist principles. Especially if we are dealing with the material platform of an
individual being before the point of cerebral development sufficient for the developed
capacity for consciousness, then the moral seriousness of its claim to life may well be
outweighed by other considerations.
Notes
1. For example, Philip Kapleau or Robert Aitken as chronicled in
Ken Jones, The Social Face of Buddhism (London: Wisdom Publications, 1989).
For Japanese Buddhism's view of abortion see William R. LaFleur, Liquid Life: Abortion
and Buddhism and Japan (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992). Return to text
2. Damien Keown, Buddhism and Bioethics (London:
Macmillan, 1995). Return to text
3. See Keown, xiv-xv where he gives a defense of his interpretive
approach to Buddhism. While there is certainly nothing wrong with attempting to
discover the scriptural basis of a religious tradition, it does tend to perhaps unduly
weight the Theravaada side of Buddhism which tends to be more textual and canonical than
the Mahaayaana side where one finds, for example, the Ch'an/Zen tradition of
antitextualism. As Mahaayaana Buddhism accounts for much of the tradition both
ancient and modern, Keown's approach rather undermines his claim to speak authoritatively
for Buddhists generally. Return to text
4. In the Milindapa~nha selection, "There is no
Ego," as translated by Henry Clarke Warren in Buddhism, In Translations (New
York: Atheneum, 1974; originally Harvard University Press, 1896), 133, we read, "When
the Groups appear to view / We use the phrase, 'A living being'." Return to text
5. Of course, this doesn't exclude the possibility that there
might be beings, perhaps not 'living' ones in the full sense, which lack vi~n~naa.na.
The substance of Keown's claim here is simply that if one has vi~n~naa.na, then one
is living; it doesn't tell you anything about the case where one lacks vi~n~naa.na.
Indeed, I argue further on that it is just such a possibility that makes abortion and
perhaps some forms of euthanasia acceptable from a Buddhist standpoint. Return to text
6. Visuddhi-Magga, chap. xiv, translated in Warren, 157. Return to text
7. Milindapa~nha, 25, translated in Warren, 131-3. Return to text
8. Milindapa~nha, 71, translated in Warren, 234-8.
The question raised in this passage is how "rebirth takes place without anything
transmigrating." The answer is essentially that nothing is continuous from one
life to another, nonetheless lives may be causally linked so that "one is not freed
from one's evil deeds." That is, just because you die, it doesn't mean that you
cannot be held accountable for your actions and their future effects. Karma is real
though one's personal existence is inherently limited. This is why I suggested
before that early Buddhism does not have a 'theory of rebirth'; there is nothing to be
reborn. But the doctrine of karma is even stiffer, therefore: you are immediately
responsible for the full effects of your actions no matter how far in the future they
extend. Return to
text
9. The tendency to substantialize the ego has been a persistent
problem in Buddhism prompting much soul-searching critique (no pun intended), as for
example on the part of the Madhyamika.
Return to text
10. Compare with Dogen's discussion in the Genjokoan fascicle
of the Shobogenzo where he states with regard to firewood, for example, "one
should not take the view that it is ashes afterward and firewood before"
(Norman Waddell and Masao Abe, "Shobogenzo Genjokoan," The Eastern Buddhist 5
(October 1972), 129-140). For Dogen this is the nature of all processes: none requires a
subsistent and transforming element to tie the process together as a whole. Such a
view contrasts sharply with Keown's portrayal of vi~n~naa.na as "dynamically
involved in all experience whether physical or intellectual" (Keown 26). Return to text
11. Although he does make room for cases where fertilization occurs
but the intermediate being does not descend, in the case of twinning, for example. Return
to text
12. Keown announces early on in the book his intention to draw out and
exploit such similarities, arguing that Buddhism is itself a natural law approach to
ethics. See xi-xii in the introduction. Return to text
13. Keown considers a somewhat analogous position advanced by Louis
van Loon, see Keown, 143-4. Van Loon supports a "higher-brain" definition
of death, thus equating an individual human life to that of the volitional self.
Keown rejects this as not authentically Buddhist, arguing that the capacity involved, cetana,
is a higher mental function than the more basic vi~n~naa.na and so possibly absent
despite the presence of the latter. I, too, would tend to reject van Loon's position
as volition and consciousness need not be the same thing, the latter being more basic than
the former, so that someone could be conscious without will. Even better as a
definitional criterion would be the "developed capacity for
consciousness." Return to text
14. This parallels the attempt to define the beginning of life by
reference to brain death. If cessation of a certain level of brain activity signals
death, then doesn't its presence signal life? Hence, we have a nonarbitrary
criterion for when life begins. The problem with this reasoning is that brain
activity is, incontestably anyhow, only a necessary but not a sufficient condition for
life. See Baruch Brody, Abortion and the Sanctity of Life (Cambridge, MA: The
MIT Press, 1975) and Bonnie Steinbock's rebuttal in Life Before Birth: The Moral and
Legal Status of Embryos and Fetuses (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992) which also
appears in a shortened version in John D. Arras and Bonnie Steinbock, Ethical Issues in
Modern Medicine, 4th ed. (Mountain View, CA: Mayfield Publishing Company, 1995),
329-43. Return to text
15. Keown, 158-68. Return to text
16. This may be the pitfall in going to cases rather than
principles in the early scriptures to work out a Buddhist view. Return to text
17. See William R. LaFleur's discussion of what he calls
"fecundism" in Japanese culture, particularly its military ramifications:
LaFleur, 131-4, 206-10. Return to text
18. See Steinbock in Steinbock and Arras, 337.
Return to text
19. Keown himself echoes this point in his analysis of an implicit
hierarchical ordering of life in Buddhism. Keown argues that the capacity to attain
nirvana and enlightenment is the relevant criterion. Since humans are much further
along the karmic path than animals in this respect, their lives are all that much more
valuable. See Keown, "Karmic Life," 46-8. Return to text
20. By the "developed capacity for consciousness" I mean the
capacity for consciousness which, of course, we possess even when asleep or otherwise
temporarily unconscious. Return to text
21. That is, Buddhism denies the existence of a soul or other
metaphysical and abstract entity on the grounds that it is a construction (vikalpa)
out of phenomenal experience and a mere convenience. See Milindapa~nha 25 in
Warren under the title "There is no Ego," 129-33. Return to text
22. See LaFleur, 169-70. Although Japanese Buddhism is
Mahaayaana, and Keown makes much of the differences between Japanese and other forms of
Asian Buddhism, the sentiments expressed in this passage do not appeal to anything overtly
Mahaayaana or Japanese. The principles expressed seem very generically
Buddhist. Return
to text