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
http://jbe.la.psu.edu/index.html
Volume 5 1997