As in the ocean's midmost depth no wave is born,
But all is still, so let the monk be still, be
Motionless, and nowhere should he swell.
—The Sayings of Buddha
At an hour when a man can first discern the shadows of the veins on the back of his hand, the monks arise. The great temple drum, hanging from its roughhewn log rack, summons the faithful to alms. Twisting a single saffron shift round their bodies, the monks move out into the quiet streets in single file, eyes to the ground, fingers clasped beneath their silver begging bowls. In Laos, the bonzes form a silent silhouette against the ornate temple roofs of the royal capital of Luangprabang. In Burma, they enter Rangoon framed against the great Shwe Dagon pagoda, its massive gilded spire shimmering in the early dawn. Though the robes may be grey in Formosa or black in Japan, in much of Asia the day begins with this same silent march of the mendicants. Passing laymen place gifts of food in the bowls, humbly thanking the monks for thus permitting the givers to acquire merit.
So has it been for most of the 2,508 years since Buddha, the Enlightened, took leave of his disciples. Yet through out Asia today, in one of the little-remarked but momentous sea changes of modern times, the sandaled monks with shaved heads have abandoned Buddha's command to be still and motionless and have plunged deep into politics. While most continue their usual duties of meditating, reading the scriptures, teaching and begging, more and more of them are busy issuing political manifestoes, organizing riots, and working for the downfall of governments. From the Indian Ocean to the Sea of Japan, from the Irrawaddy to Tonkin Bay, bonzes are causing political waves whose final effect even they themselves cannot foresee but which are vitally affecting the Western—and the Communist—role in the fate of Asia.
New Threat. In Ceylon, the tenuous, left-wing coalition government has for weeks been at the capricious mercy of the Buddhist clergy; last week the Prime Minister, Mrs. Sirimavo Bandaranaike, lost a vote of confidence and dissolved Parliament, requiring new elections that are sure to be tumultuous. In Japan, Soka Gakkai, a new Buddhist sect claiming converts at the rate of 100,000 families a month, has launched its own political party, which, says its chairman, "naturally aims at ruling the nation." In Burma, an attempt to set up a Buddhist thearchy has led to chaos and left-wing military dictatorship.
Above all, it is in South VietNam that political Buddhism is making its most vigorous, most open attempt to seize temporal power. Buddhism now may be as great a threat to the embattled country as the Viet Cong—if not greater. Saigon has just passed through a week of riots in which the believers in the reverence for life tossed hand grenades from the sanctuary of Buddhist headquarters, teenagers supposedly raised in "the Middle Way" ganged up on policemen, and disciples of the gentle Buddha pushed old people and children as human shields ahead of demonstrators.