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JOURNAL OF BUDDHIST ETHICS

VOLUME 2: 1995 191-203

RESEARCH ARTICLE

THE KURUDHAMMA: FROM ETHICS TO STATECRAFT

ANDREW HUXLEY
University of London
Law Department, School of Oriental & African Studies
London WC1H 0XG, UK
ah6@soas.ac.uk

Publication Date: 15 November 1995

COPYRIGHT (c) 1995 ANDREW HUXLEY

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ABSTRACT

     This article compares two literary treatments of a Buddhist
ethical motif. In the prose sections of the //Kurudhamma Jaataka// the
motif is expanded into a collection of ethical casuistry. In the
//Kurudhamma ka.n.da pa~nho//, it is expanded into a series of job
descriptions for the king and ten of his subordinates. Description of
these provokes discussion of the history of the practice of ethics by
Buddhist monks and Buddhist courtiers.

TEXT

     This article compares two literary treatments of a Buddhist
ethical motif. Once upon a time, according to the motif, King
Dhana~njaya ruled over a community where everyone, from top to bottom
of the social scale, scrupulously followed the moral code.  These
people of Kuru were humble as well as virtuous: despite their
exemplary behaviour none of them had a clear enough conscience to
expound the Dhamma to others. The motif is canonical and may be found
in the verses of the //Kurudhamma Jaataka// [No. 276] [1]. It can be
interpreted variously. Perhaps it attacks the self-satisfaction of the
law-abiding citizen. Perhaps it means that truly moral people cannot
ever know that they are truly moral. Or perhaps it hints that those
who can, do, while those who can't, teach. I discuss two treatments
each of which takes the motif in a radically different direction. The
prose expansion of the Jaataka verses, which technically counts as
commentary and must have reached its present form in 5th century CE
Sri Lanka, converts the motif into a collection of ethical casuistry.
It recounts eleven hypothetical hard cases and promotes a particular
solution to each of them. The second text, the //Kurudhamma ka.n.da
pa~nho//, was probably composed in the Middle Mekong region some time
between the 8th and the 18th century. It moves us from ethics to
statecraft by using the dramatis personae of Jaataka No. 276 to expound
palace life from a management studies perspective. It provides job



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descriptions and flow-charts of responsibility for the king and for
ten of his subordinates. I draw attention to these texts in order to
make two points.  Speaking as a legal historian, I am impressed by the
shift in attitude towards ethics as between the canon and the
commentaries.  I understand it as a move from simple to complex, from
amateur to professional and from the boring to the interesting.
Speaking as a South East Asianist, I hope to interest the reader in the
vast but relatively unknown field of Southeast Asian Buddhist literature.
>From the 13th to the 20th centuries authors, particularly those from
the Middle Mekong and Upper Burma regions, were concerned to extract
practical implications from the Paali canon and apply them to
contemporary society. Their thoughts were expressed in many genres,
including sermons, chronicles, birth-stories, law texts and works on
//raajadhamma//. To discuss Theravaada ethics in ignorance of this
material is like discussing Christian ethics in ignorance of Thomas
Aquinas and John Bunyan.

     I shall deal first with the legal historical issue of the shift
towards complexity. In contemporary Theravaada countries - at least in
Southeast Asia - the village monk is also the village ethical
counsellor. This extends beyond advising individuals. The monk can
usually draw on sufficient prestige to force disputants within the
village to settle on terms that he suggests. When did monks first
adopt this role? The question lies on the boundary between the
sociology of law and the sociology of the professions.  It is
treacherous terrain, but Max Weber is a reliable guide. His account
stresses that the counsellors were enthusiasts, //amateurs// in the
literal sense, before they turned professional.  He labels this
pre-professional stage that of the //honoratiores//, the
"well-respected men," who gave up much of their spare time to study
ethics and were rewarded both by greater status and by the social
pleasures of debate with those who shared the hobby. Calder has
applied Weber's model with great success to the emergence of the
Islamic legal profession in the 9th and 10th centuries AD [2].  Can
the Buddhist data also be squeezed to fit Weber's model? Was there a
period in Buddhist history before monks acted as ethical counsellors?
Can we talk about Buddhist //honoratiores//, meaning a sub-group of
the Sangha who fostered a common enthusiasm for discussion of ethical
hypotheticals? How far would such a group have overlapped with the
Vinaya experts? My analysis of the //Kurudhamma Jaataka// suggests an
answer to the second of these questions. I shall leave the others to
hang unanswered in the air.

     The Dhamma practised by the Kuru people and maintained by their
king Dhana~njaya is nothing more exotic than the five //siila//.  As
Gombrich summarises them:

     "... don't kill, don't steal, don't have wrong sex, don't lie
     and don't drink, because that leads to the other things." [3]

Gombrich then makes a throwaway comment which I find very
illuminating. Though the five //siila// are at the heart of Buddhist
ethics, perhaps they are not complex enough to withstand detailed
critical scrutiny:



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     "Ethically they are admirable. But their generality makes
     them intellectually uninteresting: they provide little
     material for discussion." [ibid.]

I value this remark more for his recognition that a problem exists
than for his description of what it is. The problem is that an element
we would expect to find in early Buddhist ethics is missing. The
absence which Gombrich senses is, I suggest, that of casuistry. It is
not that the five //siila// provide little material for casuistic
discussion, it is rather that such discussion did not take place until
a later stage. Because of his omniscience, the Buddha cannot be a
casuist. He cannot seek to persuade his companions to adopt a
particular solution to a hypothetical case because he and his
companions are not on an equal footing. He knows because he can see.
They know because he has told them  [4].  I would guess that several
centuries elapsed before the Buddha's charisma was routinised and
monks found the confidence to discuss hard cases. In the Vinaya
context such discussions certainly preceded the fixture of the
//Suttavibha"nga's// text, since large collections of casuistry form the
//Viniita-vatthu// sections of that text. But the earliest collection of
rulings on the five //siila// that I am aware of is the prose section of
the //Kurudhamma Jaataka//. This prose text took on its final form
during the commentarial period. It would be very useful to know when
the earliest versions of this and similar texts might have circulated,
since we could then begin to date the transition from uninteresting
generalised ethics to semi-professional case-specific ethics. The text
preserves particular solutions to eleven ethical hard cases.  It must
have been produced by and for monks who had acquired a taste for such
discussions. And surely such specialists practised their specialty?
These monks must have spent some of their time acting as ethical
counsellors to the laity.

     The //Kurudhamma Jaataka// [No. 276] shares the same plot mechanism
as the //Vessantara Jaataka// [No. 546]. In both of these birth-stories
a nation suffering from drought seeks assistance from its more fortunate
neighbour. In both stories rain is expected to follow from possession
of the great Elephant of State. Prince Vessantara gladly gives the
elephant to his neighbours even though his subjects will thereby be
driven to revolt. Dhana~njaya, king of the Kuru, is just as generous,
but the arrival of his elephant does not cause the expected end to the
drought. His neighbours finally come to realise that rain falls on the
Kuru people because they follow the //kurudhamma//: they send another
delegation across the frontier to discover the Kuru morality and
inscribe it on a golden plate. First they ask the king, but he doubts
his ethical purity and refers them to the Queen Mother. She, for
similar reasons, refers them to the Queen Consort. By the end of the
Jaataka the delegation has conducted eleven interviews, listed as
follows in the first verse:

     "King, mother, consort, viceroy, chaplain too
     Driver and charioteer and treasurer,
     and he that governed the king's granaries
     Porter and courtesan, eleven in all



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     observed the rules of Kuru righteousness." [p. 251]

At this point the narrative logic breaks down. The delegation are
supposed to be discovering what the ethics of the Kuru are, but at the
end of each interview they sit in moral judgement on their
interlocutor. As each of the eleven recounts a misdeed to explain why
they are unworthy to pass on the //kurudhamma//, the delegation reassures
them with phrases such as:

     "But O king ... you had no intent to take life. Without the
     intent of the heart, there is no taking of life." [p. 254]

or

     "But ... you had no thought of thieving; without this one
     cannot be proclaimed guilty of theft." [p. 258]

or
     "You said it because you thought so; this does not break your
     virtue." [p. 259]

What is the point of all this? Malalasekera says that the confession
of these misdeeds "only served to emphasise how scrupulously they had
conducted themselves" [5]. I think there is a little more to it. The
delegation pass judgement, in effect, on eleven hard cases concerning
the application of the five //siila//.  They dispose of the nagging moral
doubts felt by their eleven Kuru interviewees. The very inclusion of
their opinions in the canon hints that we are meant to take them as
authoritative. The framing story, which speaks of "Wise men of old. . .
[who] felt remorse about mere trifles" [p. 251], and the appearance
of Sakka to endorse the virtue of the courtesan in the eleventh and
last of the cases [p. 260] are further evidence that this is intended
as an authoritative collection of ethical casuistry.

     In the text the eleven cases are arranged in order of precedence:
we descend the social scale from the king down through the royal
family and ministers to the porter and prostitute. I shall rearrange
them according to legal criteria, to bring together cases concerned
with the same ethical rule. I start with the most serious of the rules
"Don't kill" and its extension "Don't inflict harm on living beings".
What troubles King Dhana~njaya's conscience is that, in the course of
celebrating the late October festival, he fired off the four
decorative arrows that custom demanded, but lost track of one of them:

     "I shot an arrow in the air:
     it fell to earth I know not where."

Perhaps it fell in the lake? And perhaps it injured a fish? A more
robust ethical counsellor might have told the king to stop worrying
about hypotheticals: instead the delegation absolve him on the grounds
that he had no intention to kill a fish. I assume that this opinion
preserves one side of a scholastic debate. Some Buddhist authorities
must once have held that in these circumstances the king acquired
demerit. My reconstruction of the suppressed alternative view is as



    Huxley.txt                                          Page:195



follows: though the king did not intend to kill a fish he did intend
to shoot an arrow in the air, being reckless as to where it might
land. Such recklessness should be subsumed within the concept of
intention. To this the compilers of the Jaataka could have responded:
recklessly shooting four arrows is precisely the royal duty that the
king must perform when celebrating the late October festival: a king
should not bear the kammic consequences of performing his royal
duties. If my reconstruction is correct, the view held by the
compilers entailed a denial of the principle that "Every violent act,
however justifiable, has its retribution" [6]. The locus classicus of
this principle is the //Temiya Jaataka// [No. 538] which declares that
the king's punishment of criminals attracts bad kamma, however
deserved the punishment and however fair the trial.

     The Viceroy's case raises the question whether negligence and
intention are equivalent. He is troubled by the memory of an occasion
when people did suffer because of his carelessness. Every evening he
would indicate to the petitioners at court whether he would be
available later that night. One day, having signalled his
availability, he was prevented from returning by a sudden storm.  All
night the crowd of petitioners waited for him in the rain, in vain.
The delegation soothe his qualms with these words:

     "You never had the wish to plague those people. What is not
     intended is not counted to one's score." [p. 256]

But again we must ask exactly what "intention" means in this context.
The viceroy intended to change his plans because of the storm, but
forgot to inform those who would be inconvenienced thereby. The
inconvenience, implies the delegation, was the unintended result of
this forgetfulness. Putting it in legal terms, negligence does not
amount to intention.

     The case of the driver (who seems to have doubled as a land
registrar) presents a problem of conflicting duties. What should we do
when in order to keep one precept we must break another? One day he
was surveying a field for official purposes:

     "The stick tied to the end of the cord which he held came to a
     crab's lurk-hole. Thought he, "If I put the stick in the
     hole, the crab in the hole will be hurt: if I put it on the
     other side, the king's property will lose; and if I put it on
     this side, the farmer will lose. What's to be done?" [p. 257]

What is more important: the precept against killing, or the precept
against stealing? And how does the death of a crustacean compare with
the integrity of human property rights? The driver ranks cheating
humans as worse than killing crabs, and is applauded for it by the
delegation, but he does at least try to avoid unnecessary harm:

     "Then he thought again `The crab ought to be in his hole; but
     if he were he would show himself' so he put the stick in the
     hole."




    Huxley.txt                                          Page:196



The case of the charioteer mixes this kind of conflict with a problem
in causation. A storm threatened as the charioteer was driving the
king back from the park, so the charioteer whipped the horses to hurry
them back home. His duty to avoid injuring the horses and his duty to
serve the king to the best of his endeavour could not be reconciled.
(The problem might be more to modern taste if we pretended that the
charioteer was driving an urgent medical case to hospital.)  Though
the charioteer faced this choice only once, the well-trained horses
repeat the consequences again and again: they now speed up
automatically whenever they reach the spot where he applied the whip:

     "If the king is wet or dry, tis no fault of mine; but I have
     given a touch of the goad out of season to these well-trained
     steeds, and so they run at speed again and again til they are
     tired." [p. 258]

The delegation apparently treat this as a problem in causation.  They
distinguish the original intentional whipping (for which he acquires
demerit) from its unintended echoes in the horses' subsequent
behaviour (for which he is not responsible) [7]. The opposite view
(that even unintended consequences of an intentional act should be
penalised) is perfectly respectable and was doubtless promoted by some
other Buddhist casuists. In fact this was the English approach to the
problem (which we call remoteness of damage) until the Privy Council
adopted the //kurudhamma// solution in 1964. I am presupposing that
the ethical casuists deployed quite sophisticated concepts of
intention, motive and recklessness in their debates: that they have
been given less credit than they deserve as skilled dialecticians. The
Vinaya casuists appear to have used such concepts early on, as can be
demonstrated by the  viniita-vatthu cases on murder (V.iii.78-85). Our
first principle for understanding these precedents must be Thanissaro
Bhikkhu's interpretative assumption that the compilers of the Vinaya
gave us all the information we need for a full understanding of these
rulings [8]. On that understanding the casuistry can only yield
non-contradictory results if we bring concepts of intention,
recklessness and primary motive into play. The Vinaya experts must at
least have been able to express these distinctions by paraphrase: they
need not necessarily have coined a word for each concept.

     I turn to the four cases concerning the ambit of the precept
against theft. The chaplain merely wished to own someone' else's
property. On seeing the king's new chariot he coveted it, and
therefore felt he must refuse it vehemently when the king offered it
to him. His mental turmoil is brought about by his having sinned in
his mind, and the delegation quickly point out that "Not by mere
uprising of covetise is virtue broken." [p. 257].  The rich man did
indeed deprive the king of property, to wit one tenth of a handful of
rice: he used a handful of rice-stalk from an untaxed field to bind a
bulging head of rice to a supporting stick. For the defence one could
argue //de minimis non curat lex//, or that the king's loss was
outweighed by the king's gain of his share of the bulging head of
rice. The delegation take the ethical high ground and argue the case
on intention: "But you had no thought of thieving; without this one
cannot be proclaimed guilty of theft" [p. 258]. They offer exactly the



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same comfort to the Master of the Granaries, who is still worried
because he once used some grains of rice as counters and then forgot
whether he had placed them on the king's pile or the farmer's pile.
His case is presumably added to provide symmetry: it shows that tax
should be assessed scrupulously, while the rich man's case
demonstrates that tax should be paid scrupulously. The most
interesting case on theft is that which involves the Queen Mother.
Dhana~njaya gave her some tribute from a neighbouring king--a valuable
necklace and a phial of sandal-wood perfume. She decides to pass the
gifts on to her daughters-in-law, "to each according to her need". The
younger daughter-in-law, the viceroy's wife, is poor and should
therefore get at least as much as the elder, Dhana~njaya's wife.  But
now she worries that by not following precedence, she has done the
elder daughter down by cheating her of her due. The delegation
reassure her in these words: "When it is in your hands, a thing is
given even as you will" [p. 255]. Casuistry on theft must inevitably
lead to a legalistic analysis of ownership. The Queen Mother feels
that she is merely a trustee or mandatee over the presents: she has no
right to dispose of them as she wishes. The delegation reply by
invoking the absolute character of ownership, including the right of
general disposition.

     Contrasting with the immense Vinaya jurisprudence on the subject,
there is only one //kurudhamma// case concerning wrong sex. Perhaps
lay people have a shrewd knowledge of what is permitted and what is
forbidden in this area? Dhana~njaya's queen confesses to having
fantasised about her brother-in-law. She is firmly informed that "Sin
is not the mere uprising of a thought" [p256]. There is not even a
single case illuminating the precept against alcohol. Perhaps it is
less important because it a derivative sin, wrong only because it
leads to worse wrongs. Or perhaps whether or not you choose to get
drunk is an unproblematic issue that does not engender casuistry. Even
the Vinaya controversialists took 1,500 years to hit their stride on
this subject: the first indications of conflicting interpretations of
the monastic precept against strong drink come from the 13th century
//Vinaya-.tiikaas// [9]. There are, however, two cases on the precept
against lying which happen to involve the lowest two rungs on the
social ladder. The gatekeeper remembers an occasion when he was
shutting the city gates for the night and a couple came running in at
the last minute. "Have you been making love in the forest?" he jeers.
"No, this is my sister and we have been collecting firewood." comes
the reply. The delegation soothe the gatekeeper with the defence of
reasonable mistake: "You had grounds on which to say that; this does
not break your virtue" [p. 259] [10].

     The final case, that of the prostitute whose commercial integrity
is tested by Sakka, is the only one to have escaped from the canonical
Jaataka into the general stock of Southeast Asian folk tales. It
reminds us that //sacca//, the virtue of truth, is also the virtue of
keeping one's promise. The negative precept against lying is also a
positive precept that agreements should be honoured. Sakka hands over
a large sum of cash to the courtesan in return for a later assignment.
The courtesan waits for him, turning away all other offers, until she
becomes impoverished.  Then she goes to the Chief Justices and asks



    Huxley.txt                                          Page:198



for their ruling. The verdict is: "If he does not come for three
years, what can you do?  Earn your wage as before" [p. 259]. She is
about to receive her first client - her hand is outstretched to receive
the money - when Sakka reappears, and she goes with him instead. She
is mortified that, by stretching out her hand to receive another man's
money, she has breached faith with Sakka. Since Sakka has publicly
proclaimed her virtue and showered her with seven kinds of jewels this
might seem over-scrupulous, but the delegation wearily reassure her
"Merely to hold out your hand is not a breach of virtue" [p. 260]. In
fact the ethical issues here are more complicated and more
interesting, since they concern the interplay between morality and
law. To keep to one's contract is both a moral and a legal duty. If
the legal authorities have freed you from the legal duty, can the
moral duty survive on its own? The prostitute thinks it can: the
delegation impliedly disagree. Like Sophocles' //Antigone//, this
story is concerned with conflict between normative systems.

     No one can dispute the virtue of the people of Kuru, but, if our
sample of eleven people is at all representative, virtue does not seem
to have made them happy. They all suffer from anxiety that they have
failed to meet the highest moral standards.  Something like the
anxiety that Weber describes among Puritan believers in predestination
appears to have infected lay Buddhist believers in //siila// and kamma.
To them the delegation preach a consistent message: "We know how kamma
works. You're in the clear.  Relax and be happy."  But how can
the delegation be sure of this? Ethical reward and punishment is a
natural process, governed by kamma. Those who expound kamma's finer
discriminations must have looked deep into the workings of kamma: only
Buddhas and arahants need apply. One of the messages implicit in the
//Kurudhamma Jaataka// will have aroused interest outside the Sangha:
that people like the delegation, "brahmins and courtiers" [p. 254],
are qualified to interpret //siila// to the laity.

     The related text to which I now turn is a product of mature
Buddhist political philosophy. The //Kurudhamma ka.n.da pa~nho// is a
Paali text about twice as long as its namesake Jaataka. It has been
published by Jaini as chapter 37 of //Lokaneyyappakara.na.m// [11], a
pseudo-Jaataka and "Treatise on Secular Discipline" which Jaini
ascribes to an unknown 15th century monk living in the region around
Chiang Mai. The manuscript which Jaini edited is held by the National
Museum of Bangkok: its convoy evidence suggests that it was written in
Keng Tung at the western extreme of the Middle Mekong culture area
[xi:n2]. Jaini treats all 41 of its chapters as a single,
through-composed text.  Unfortunately Jaini did not consider some
closely related manuscripts described by Saddhatissa [12]. Saddhatissa
summarises a Laotian vernacular manuscript entitled //Lokavinaya//
which, he says, translates a "Paali text entitled //Dhana~njaya//
published by Dharmabhakti in Bangkok". If this //Lokavinaya// is the
work which Finot catalogued as No. 331 of his "Liste Generale des
Manuscrits Laotiens" [13], then it was held in the Royal Library of
Luang Prabang. Which would in turn fit with Wyatt's information that a
//Lokanaya// manuscript appears "on a list of manuscripts copied,
probably in Luang Prabang, for the kings of Nan" [14].  Under various
titles and in more than one language, this work was known across the



    Huxley.txt                                          Page:199



Middle Mekong, from Keng Tung in the west to Luang Prabang in the
east. But its contents were not the same in these different
manifestations. Comparing Saddhatissa's description of the 25 chapters
of the Laotian manuscripts with Jaini's description of the 41 chapters
of the Bangkok manuscript, the shorter version would appear to be the
earlier version. The Laotian version sticks closely to the life and
adventures of Dhana~njaya, which owe rather more to the //Mahosadha//
or //Great Tunnel Jaataka// [No. 546] than to Dhana~njaya, the exponent
of the //kurudhamma// in No. 276. Our hero gains the king's favour by
his wise answers to riddles when a mere seven year old. He arouses the
jealousy of the king's other counsellors, survives an attempted
assassination by elephant, goes into exile, establishes his reputation
abroad, marries an intelligent and beautiful wife, and returns home in
triumph because he alone can solve the riddle of the drums. We are
told of his wife's clever defence of her chastity against the wicked
Purohita, then Dhana~njaya becomes crown prince and brings the story
to a climax with his defeat of an invading army by means of Dhamma
rather than brute force. At this point the Laotian version ends, but
the Bangkok manuscript, which has already interpolated ten irrelevant
chapters doubling up on existing plot elements, tacks on two very
lengthy chapters. These purport to be sermons given by Dhana~njaya
after his triumph but before he installed his son as crown prince and
retired to become an ascetic. The second of these long sermons is the
//Kurudhamma ka.n.da pa~nho//. Though some attempt has been made to
incorporate it smoothly into the existing narrative, we must,
nonetheless, treat it as a separate text which the redactor of the
Bangkok manuscript has inserted into his version of the //Lokaneyya//.
There would be two reasons for doing this:  firstly, both the
//Lokaneyya// and the //Kurudhamma ka.n.da pa~nho// discuss lay
discipline or the way to guide the world; secondly Dhana~njaya is the
hero of both texts.

     If we can take the //Kurudhamma ka.n.da pa~nho// as a sermon on
statecraft written somewhere in Southeast Asia, then it becomes
valuable evidence for prevailing ideas on social organisation. Jaini
summarises it in six pages [xxvii-xlii] which I summarise still
further. The full moon day approaches. Sakka makes the necessary
arrangements for the Bodhisatta Dhana~njaya to give a sermon to all
the kings of Jambudiipa. Dhana~njaya, enthroned on the high seat of the
law under the Bodhi tree in front of a great assembly, proceeds to
answer [1] Sakka's riddle about the stages of the path to
enlightenment [2] Sakka's question about the four castes (//va.n.nas//)
and [3] Sakka's request that he preach the //raajadhammas// to the
assembled kings. The sermon on the four castes gives us an interesting
insight into what people unfamilar with the institution made of the
ubiquitous references to caste in the Paali canon. We are told that the
Brahmans are good at astrology, medicines and animal training, and are
useful intercessors with the local cadastral spirits. But they can use
these skills to deceive honest people, so the only real Brahmans worthy
of the name are the noble arahants. The warrior caste are those
responsible for the arrest, punishment and execution of offenders.
They are prone to hunt animals and loot other kingdoms, and so the
only Khattiya worthy of the name is he who complies with the four
//sangahavatthu// [15]. The other two castes are Ministers and



    Huxley.txt                                          Page:200



Merchants. The righteous Minister is he who refuses to carry out a
wicked royal order. The righteous Merchant does not cheat his
customers, is not an arms-dealer and uses standard coinage. Echoes of
this approach to social stratification can be heard in the Southeast
Asian legal literature. The //Manugye dhammathat//, which was compiled
in Upper Burma around 1756, discusses the situation where a debtor and
creditor are not from the same class. It uses a six fold
stratification into [1] the royal family [2] brahmans [3] ministers
[4] rich men [5] merchants and [6] poor men [16].

     Sakka's third request is that the Bodhisatta preach //raajadhamma//
for the prosperity and well-being of the assembled kings and their
kingdoms. Dhana~njaya responds by reciting the Jaataka verse quoted
above listing the eleven members of the king's household who keep the
//kurudhamma//. But we are not about to hear ethical casuistry about the
five precepts:

     "Instead, our author uses the framework of this Jaataka in
     order to delineate in great detail the duties of members of
     the royal court, providing thereby a virtual textbook on
     polity unlike anything found elsewhere in Paali literature."
     [xl]

The king himself must follow the ten //raajadhamma//. This list of
virtues which a king should aspire to follow is ubiquitous in the
Jaataka, including the older verse portions (J.iv.200), but is not
found anywhere else in the canon. Nonetheless, they are treated both
within and without the tradition as if they contain the key to Buddhist
political philosophy. Contemporary scholars of Buddhism are liable to
be seduced by a numerical list just as much as the courtiers of
pre-modern Southeast Asia. In truth the ten //raajadhamma// promise much
but deliver little. They are simply a list of five abstract virtues
which are then doubled by adding five close synonyms [17]. The
//Kurudhamma ka.n.da pa~nho// actually gives a fuller account of what
these virtues mean than anything in the canon. Having dealt with the
king, the text continues down the social scale. The Queen Mother must
be compassionate to all, and impartial towards her sons and
daughters-in-law. The crown-prince must share the king's
responsibilities in court and on the battlefield and must supervise
the ministers and the treasurer.  The Treasurer must excel in
generosity, in particular by offering a ritualised feast at each of
the nine stages of the rice harvest.  And so on, down to the
prostitute, the virtuous embellisher of the city, who must display
impartiality to all her customers. At this point an objection is
noted: can the prostitute be truly virtuous, given the prohibition of
wrong sex? The reply is that she is able to keep the //kurudhamma//
because - and I paraphrase - the taxi-driver is not responsible for
what happens inside the taxi.

          What sources were drawn on for this remarkable analysis of
duties among the royal household? Jaini thinks it is

     "... not unlikely that our author was drawing upon some other
     source, now non-extant, in composing this section." [xl]



    Huxley.txt                                          Page:201




This conjecture is certainly possible: we know the names of many
Southeast Asian works on //raajadhamma//, few of which have survived.
However, if one treats the //Kurudhamma ka.n.da pa~nho// as a separate
text of uncertain provenance, the conjecture becomes unhelpful: we
don't know when or where it was written, nor do we know when or where
the texts it drew on were written. The only helpful way forward is to
focus on the connections between the two texts I have discussed. Why
has this raajadhammic text been put in the mouth of Dhana~njaya? What
is the connection between observing the five //siila// and ensuring that
members of the royal court know the duties appropriate to their rank?
There are other passages in the canon that could have been exploited
to produce a list of political duties, most notably the lengthy
description of how to be a perfect royal counsellor given by Vidhura
to his children [Jaataka No. 545]. Why not develop this to cover the
other ten palace functionaries? The likely answer is that some Middle
Mekong city treated Dhana~njaya as its founding father. It rewrote its
pre- Buddhist legends of origin to promote the image of a virtuous
population, united in observation of the five //siila//. As the original
Kuru country was the region around present-day Delhi, we can postulate
an early Northern Tai king anxious to found "New- Delhi-on-the-Mekong"
- a city of exemplary virtue where even the prostitutes observe the
//kurudhamma//. A couple of surprising facts lend some substance to this
proposal. Firstly, the //Code de Vientaine// is unique among all the
Southeast Asian law texts in taking its organising principle from the
//kurudhamma// [18]. Its five books deal successively with murder, theft,
sexual offences, lying and drunkenness. This form of organisation is
not a success, since even after being padded out with material of
dubious relevance, the fifth book on Drunkenness is still much shorter
than the first three books. Secondly, the Guardian Angels of Luang
Prabang are descended from Dhana~njaya. This fragment of city-founding
myth comes from the edifying Laotian novel //Bhuddhasen// [19]. The
story ends with Buddhasen and his faithful wife becoming (and giving
their names to) the two mountain peaks opposite Luang Prabang on the
right bank of the Mekong. The romance mixes up attributes of two or
three different Dhana~njayas mentioned in the canon and commentaries:
Buddhasen's mother Canda-Paduma is described as one of the twelve
daughters of Dhana~njaya, which is an inaccurate reminiscence of
Dhana~njaya the stream-winner, rich man and contemporary of the Buddha
[20]. On the other hand Buddhasen's grandfather lived in Indapattha,
capital of the Kuru country and home of King Dhana~njaya the
Bodhisatta. How much weight should we ascribe to such Buddhicisations
of indigenous legends? Which figure from the canon is chosen to
represent your pre-Buddhist tutelary deity is surely not decided at
random. My reading of the //Bhuddhasen// evidence is that Buddhism
came to Luang Prabang via a city which paid special reverence to
Dhana~njaya and the //kurudhamma//. In all likelihood this city was
somewhere in the middle Mekong, but whether it flourished during the
first or second millennium is unclear. Its influence has left a
Dhana~njayic stamp on Middle Mekong Buddhist culture so that, when it
was time to write down the laws for the laity or the bureaucratic
structure of the palace, the scribes naturally used the five //siila//
and the //Kurudhamma Jaataka// as organising principles.




    Huxley.txt                                          Page:202



     Neither of the texts I have discussed belongs to the earliest
stratum of the canon. If the motif was present back in the days before
monks discussed ethical hard cases and advised the laity on virtuous
behaviour, it must have been a mere trope about the super-sensitivity
that comes with being lay paragons of virtue. One reason for its
subsequent popularity was that it provided the skeleton on which
another Buddhist utopia could be constructed: a far-off land where
even the Gate-keepers (who in reality must have been about as popular
as traffic cops) and prostitutes (whom every society has treated as
morally ambivalent) were moral. It is this aspect of the motif which
led to its adoption in the Middle Mekong as a town charter. But the
aspect on which my two texts elaborate is the verse listing the eleven
inhabitants of Dhanajaya's court. This is the foundation on which the
casuists can build a collection of rulings in ethical hard cases and
the politicians can erect a manual of good government.  We can safely
put the latter development after the former. The movement of the
//kurudhamma// theme, as with other Buddhist motifs, has been from ethics
to statecraft. Or, to include the earliest stage of development, from
rhetoric to ethics to statecraft.

NOTES

[1]. E. Cowell, & W. Rouse, _The Jaataka translated from the Paali by
various hands_, III:251-260  (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1897). Unadorned page numbers in the text refer to this.

[2]. N. Calder, _Studies in Early Muslim Jurisprudence_ (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1993).

[3]. R.F. Gombrich, "The Duty of a Buddhist according to the Paali
Scriptures," in _The Concept of Duty in S. Asia_, edited by J.M.D.
Derrett & W.D. O'Flaherty (Delhi: Vikas Publishing House / SOAS,
1978), p. 108.

[4]. For the same reason the Buddha is incapable of being bound by his
own rules and on one occasion advised a monk not to bother with the
discipline of the Vinaya. See Andrew Huxley, "The Vinaya: Legal System
or Performance-Enhancing Drug?" forthcoming in _The Buddhist Forum_.

[5]. G.P. Malalasekera, _Dictionary of Paali Proper Names_, 2 volumes,
Indian Text Series (London: John Murray, 1937), Volume 1, p. 643

[6]. C. Duroiselle, _Notes on the Ancient Geography of Burma_
(Rangoon: Office of the Superintendent of Government Printing, 1906),
p. 5. This article first appeared in French: C. Duroiselle, "Notes sur
la Geographie Apocryphe de la Birmanie," _Bulletin de l'Ecole
Francaise de l'Extreme-Orient_ 5 (1905): 146-167.

[7]. I am grateful to an anonymous _Journal of Buddhist Ethics_
manuscript evaluator of an earlier version of this article for
pointing out the translation in Cowell & Rouse (1897) is misleading.

[8]. G. DeGraff (Thanissaro Bhikkhu), _The Buddhist Monastic Code_
(California: Metta Forest Monastery, 1994), p. 14.



    Huxley.txt                                          Page:203




[9]. P.V. Bapat, "Vimati-vinodani, a Vinaya commentary, and
Kundalkesi-vatthu, a Tamil Poem," _Journal of Indian History_ 45
(1967): 689-694

[10]. Again I have gratefully adopted the anonymous reader's
clarification of a misleading passage in Cowell & Rouse (1897).

[11] P.S. Jaini, _Lokaneyyappakara.na.m_, Paali Text Society Text
Series No. 175 (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986). Unadorned Roman
numerals in the text refer to Jaini's introduction.

[12]. H. Sadhatissa, "Paali Literature from Laos," in _Studies in
Paali & Buddhism in honour of Bhikkhu Jagdish Kashyap_, edited by A.K.
Narain (Delhi: BR Publishing Corporation, 1979), pp. 331 & 338.

[13] L. Finot, "Recherches sur la Litterature Laotienne," _Bulletin de
l'Ecole Francaise de l'Extreme-Orient_ 17:5 (1917): 175.

[14]. E-mail from David Wyatt, July 18, 1995.

[15]. This list of four qualities by which a king should win hearts
and minds is often mentioned in the canon (e.g.,  D.iii.61; S.i.87)
and seems originally to have been a parody of four Vedic sacrifices.

[16]. D. Richardson, _The Damathat or the Laws of Menoo_ (Moulmein:
American Baptist Mission Press, 1847), p. 91.

[17]. I elaborate this argument in a forthcoming article "Raajadhamma
in the Mahanipata."

[18]. A. Raquez, _Pages laotiennes_ (Hanoi: Schneider, 1902), pp.
403-448.

[19]. Finot, "Recherches sur la Litterature Latienne," pp. 133-35.
There is also a different, Cambodian, recension of this romance.

[20]. According to Malalasekera, _Dictionary of Paali Proper Names_,
Volume 1, p. 1130),  Canda-Paduma was the mother of Dhana~njaya the
rich man.