One Month After the Easter Attacks
Theruwan Saranai, Sinhala Buddhist community,
This is a letter from the heart, one month after the Easter bombings in Sri Lanka, to both adults and my current millennial generation of Sinhala Buddhists. Thank you for listening.
The last time I remember seeing Sri Lanka spread so heavily across the news was the tsunami. At 16, I was not used to our small island being so publicized.
When the Easter attacks occurred one month ago, I was reminded of this jarring visibility, the tragedy of the tsunami, and civil war.
Although Sri Lankans on Staten Island (where I live) have by now gained steadier recognition in the US news, our ethno-religious groups tend to remain separate outside of the occasional cultural event. For the most part, we build community through our own, separate houses of worship.
It is this separateness that worries me.
How will we, as Sinhalese Buddhists, process this tragic attack?
An Island Within An Island
Growing up, I was often challenged with navigating my identity as a first-generation Sri Lankan American born and raised on Staten Island — two islands connected by their forgotten identity. Other than seeing family friends, I did not partake in Sri Lankan dancing like most young women. I was too busy focusing on acculturation. Within our very small community at the time, Pansala (temple) was essentially my cultural experience of Lankan identity: engaging in periodic dāna services, attending Sunday school and summer youth camp, and celebrating festivals. When we observed larger cultural events such as Sri Lankan New Year, Buddhist monks were often honored guests. Visiting Sri Lanka only echoed this prestige placed upon Buddhism. This is how I came to see Sri Lanka as a predominantly Buddhist country.
I was hardly educated about the stories and issues of other Sri Lankan communities. Not until college did I learn that Sri Lanka’s civil war led to the genocide of thousands of Tamil people. Elders often avoided the issue when I brought it up; I didn’t have a right to speak as ‘an American.'
I recognize I did not grow up with war, let alone in Sri Lanka, where stakes were high and immense pain afflicted so many people, for so many reasons. Mass casualties and disappearances in Sri Lanka are not new. We need only think back to the insurrections of the Marxist-Leninst political party, JVP, whose thirst for Sinhala supremacy came at the expense of Sinhalese people — a deadly reminder that nationalism will destroy anyone who dissents.
Decades later, across the NYC / New Jersey region, Sinhalese Buddhists now face another, internal conflict. The 20+ year old pansala I grew up with, which started in Queens and became the first Buddhist Vihara of Staten Island, is currently facing the brink of closure due to constant threats by a recent neighbor, alleging building code violations. He seems to want to “Make America Great Again” by expelling our temple, putting a stop to what he perceives as annoying foreign noise.
Meanwhile, on another part of Staten Island, another temple is preaching prayer in Sinhala (as opposed to Pali or Sanskrit languages) and expanding its fellowship of elders frustrated by the legal and community battles of our older temple. This reversion to Sinhalese- centered language is reminiscent of the 1956 Sinhala Only Languages Act and subsequent policies post-independence from colonization. Though Buddhist practices in no way endorse or condone any sort of violence, by continuing to root their traditions within a framework that elevates Sinhalese Buddhism as sacred — as something to be protected — the stage is set to diminish other ethnicities and faiths on the island, as evidenced by events of the last few years.
Thus I ask you, dear community:
How do we respond to real attacks without abandoning the spirit of the Buddhadhamma?
How do we protect ourselves without feeding the false belief that we are superior to others?
Cycling History
For many Sinhala Buddhists today, especially elders, the desire to preserve Buddhism stems from the fear of its eradication, having experienced its fall in South Asia and the Middle East: the Buddhas of Bamyan statues in Afghanistan destroyed by the Taliban in 2001; the establishment of Hindu Brahmin caste supremacy in India; the damage of Buddhist relics by imperialist Islamic rulers centuries ago; the centuries of ethno-religious fighting amongst Lankan kings centuries before colonization. We can’t overlook that such violence is rooted in deeper issues of heteropatriarchy, colonization, conquest, and nationalism, driven by a small group of powerful men who thrive on the marginalization of others.
Today, Theravada Buddhist nationalists argue that the depletion of Buddhism and lack of Buddhist response calls for a need to act.
The creation of extremist fascist groups such as the “969 Movement” in Burma, a Buddhist nationalist group in direct opposition to Islam, has led to the ongoing genocide of Rohingya peoples. Paralleling the 969 Movement's agenda in Sri Lanka, while building a dangerous allyship, is the Sinhalese Buddhist nationalist group, BBS: Bodu Bala Sena (Buddhist Power Force).
With BBS citing inspiration by the Indian Hindu nationalist political party BJP, it is critical to note the similarities of Buddhist extremism with both Hindu nationalism and Zionism. Like the state of Israel, some Sri Lankan Sinhalese of Buddhist heritage engage in the troubling mindset of ‘majority-minority’ idealization: the belief that, although over 70% of Sri Lankans still identify as Sinhalese Buddhists, Sri Lanka must continue to aggressively promote the tradition of Theravada Buddhism, or else risk losing its legacy.
It is ironic that a religion with the concept of no-self (anatta), and emphasis on non-attachment, has been taken over by the desire for a skewed collective identity. It is even more telling that the projection of fear in losing our religion has been directed almost exclusively towards Muslims: an unfortunate history that is not new.
Meanwhile, White supremacy has appropriated principles of Buddhadharma such as ahimsa (non violence) to pacify, shame, and harm Black and non Asian communities of color, leading to model minority myths of Asian passivity and obedience. Simultaneously, White supremacy has used Buddhist practice to train militaries and other groups whose purpose is to harm others. Somehow, as Sinhala Buddhists in particular, we stay quiet in this mass market of profitability and violence. Is this the kind of Upekkhā (equanimity) we seek to practice?
Journey to Enlightenment
Dukkha (suffering) weaves into all of our lives. How can we work towards releasing harm in our lives and embrace the path of liberation? We must address fear-mongering and bridge solidarity across Lankan diaspora. We can look towards the scripture we grew up with to offer guidance in integrity and truth.
Practicing Loving-kindness (metta) encourages us to deepen our relationships with other Lankan ethno-religious groups.
Right Thought, Right Mindfulness, and Right Action within the Noble Eightfold path teaches us to remain aware of, and actively discourage, the dangers of Sinhala Buddhist nationalist groups such as BBS.
Offering dhana (generosity) to victims of genocide in the Tamil community, the Easter attacks, and anti-Muslim violence can cultivate trust within our communities, whilst also practicing sīla (virtue), accountability, and responsibility within our peoples.
When we open up the possibility of compassion, understanding, and love towards others even in the face of great difficulty, we honor the Buddhadhamma. It is not easy, but addressing these challenges will allow us to grow. The Easter attacks were nothing short of horrific. As Sinhala Buddhists, we can use this as an opportunity to embrace our Tamil, Muslim, Catholic, Hindu, Burgher, Kaffir, Malay, and Veddah Lankan siblings. Sri Lanka’s beauty lies in the richness of our diaspora.
We can and must do better. Our path toward enlightenment and peace depends on it.
With love, in dhamma,
Dedunu