Although I think Funie Hsu raises and touches on several very important issues about the potential for bigotry, chauvinism and arrogant presumption in religious discourse and practice, I think the positioning of these issues within the currently popular framework of “cultural appropriation” might not be the best approach. That’s because inherent in that framework are some ideas about ownership that are dubious, especially from a Buddhist point of view. Just some thoughts along these lines in response to passages from Hsu’s article:
To be clear, Buddhism belongs to all sentient beings. Even so, Asians and Asian American Buddhists have a rightful, distinct historical claim to Buddhism.
It appears to me that this statement is potentially inconsistent. If something truly belongs to all sentient beings, then no subset of those sentient beings has any special claim to it.
When it is said that Buddhism has been practiced for over 2,500 years, it is important to consider who has been persistently maintaining the practice for millennia: Asians, and more recently, Asian-Americans. It is because of our physical, emotional, and spiritual labor, our diligent cultivation of the practice through time and through histories of oppression, that Buddhism has persisted to the current time period and can be shared with non-Asian practitioners. This is historical fact.
All Buddhists of the present should be grateful to all the the Buddhists of the past whose devotion and laborious efforts have brought the dhamma, discipline and practice traditions down to us. But this applies equally to, for example, both a contemporary American Buddhist derived from some European ancestry and a contemporary Japanese or Japanese-American Buddhist of Japanese ancestry. After all, neither one of those people built all those stupas, temples and monasteries, translated and preserved all those texts, gave all those dhamma talks, or performed 2.5 millennia’s worth of dana.
Everyone can benefit from reflecting on cultural appropriation as a way to deepen our Buddhist practice. We can do this by using the five precepts as a guide. One teacher I study with stresses that the precepts are not merely about refraining from certain actions (no killing, no stealing, and so on); equally as important, they are about proactive efforts we can take to foster our spiritual development. The precept directing no stealing, for example, should be understood as both not taking what is not yours or what is not freely given and as actively practicing dana, or generosity. We can apply this approach to the issue of cultural appropriation.
Yes, but unless one has, for example, stolen a book about Buddhist history, teachings or practice, there is no sense in which simply adopting Buddhist practices or discussing or holding forth on Buddhist ideas, involves illegitimately taking or appropriating something that must be given by others. If the dhamma and discipline are not owned by any particular people or culture, then they can not be taken from that people or culture. On the other hand, it might make sense to say that certain kinds of concrete symbols, institutions and artifacts, which might have been fashioned by human beings in the course of developing a practice tradition around the dhamma, might be something to which the descendants of those people can lay claim.
In order to alleviate the suffering caused by cultural appropriation, we can refrain from asserting ownership of a free teaching that belongs to all.
I agree completely. Nobody should regard themselves, either individually or as part of a collective, as the owners of the Buddha’s teachings. No person, group, nation, ethic group or culture owns the teachings.
We can refrain from asserting false authority and superiority over those who have diligently maintained the practice to share freely with others.
Certainly. Everybody should refrain generally from asserting superiority over others, and refrain from asserting authority over any matters about which they are not, in fact, an authority. However, if a person has spent many years both studying the Buddhist tradition, and possibly also combining that study with the actual practice of that tradition, then their authority is not a false one, but is well earned.
The more important issue is whether there are other people who are equally qualified to speak with authority on some aspect of Buddhism, but whose voices have been suppressed, excluded or ignored because of cultural bigotry or chauvinism. This is a real issue in the United States, where much Buddhist intellectual discourse has been dominated by people in particular practice traditions, and with particular ethnic and class backgrounds, and efforts should be made to diversify the discourse to bring in more voices.
For white practitioners in particular, you can also mindfully investigate the emotions that arise when issues of cultural appropriation are brought to your attention. Robin DiAngelo writes about the concept of “white fragility,” a set of emotions—including anger, defensiveness, guilt, and more—that often accompany the thoughts of white people when they are forced to confront the reality of white supremacy. This concept can be helpful for white Buddhists in thinking about the false self and possible attachments to protecting the ego. Deep contemplation on this can help shatter the fragility of the false self and the delusion of racial colorblindness.
I agree that this is a good thing for “white” practitioners to investigate and think about. I have thought about it a great deal since I read Funie Hsu’s article. However, Buddhists of all kinds might also want to think about the possibility that, due to their own anger over perceived encroachments into a cultural territory over which they consider themselves duly authorized custodians, they might attempt to suppress or discourage perfectly legitimate alternative forms of practice or discourse by shaming or humiliating the practitioners into silence.