When Buddhism Turns Violent

Editor’s Note: Buddhism is often depicted as a religion of serenity, a sharp contrast to the violence at times embraced by followers of other faiths. Nilay Saiya of Nanyang Technological University, drawing on his recent International Security article, argues that this is a dangerous misconception. Buddhists are often in the forefront of violence, and this is especially common in countries where the government embraces a Buddhist religious identity.

Daniel Byman

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In contemporary discourse, religious violence is often associated first and foremost with Islam. From terrorist attacks to civil wars and jihadist insurgencies, Islam has been linked to some of the most visible episodes of violence in the 21st century. Since 9/11, Islamic extremism has become nearly synonymous with religious violence—a stereotype reinforced by media narratives, political discourse, and public fear.

But while Islam has become a byword for violence in much of the Western imagination, another powerful and persistent stereotype has largely escaped scrutiny: the idea that Buddhism is inherently peaceful.

Buddhism is often portrayed as a serene, nonviolent tradition centered on compassion and mindfulness. In the Western popular imagination, Buddhists are calm, meditative figures who embody harmony and detachment. Yet this image is more romantic ideal than historical reality. Though Buddhism emphasizes nonviolence (ahimsa) in its ethical teachings, the tradition—like all major religions—has also been entangled with violence, nationalism, and state power.

In fact, in many countries where violence has occurred, it is Muslims who have been the victims and Buddhists the perpetrators.

History offers numerous examples that complicate the pacifist stereotype. In sixth-century China, Buddhist soldiers were praised as “bodhisattvas” (enlightened beings) for slaying enemies. In medieval Japan, warrior monks (the sōhei) took up arms to defend territory and settle sectarian rivalries. In 16th-century Thailand, Buddhist holy men led bloody revolts. Zen Buddhism played a key ideological role in supporting Japanese militarism during World War II, including suicide missions. And in more recent decades, Buddhist-majority countries like Myanmar, Sri Lanka, and Thailand have witnessed waves of violence against religious minorities, especially Muslims, often fueled by nationalist Buddhist movements.

Why does a tradition known for peace sometimes turn to violence?

In a recent article published in International Security, Stuti Manchanda and I argue that the answer lies not in Buddhist theology, but in politics—specifically, the institutional relationship between Buddhism and the state.

In many Buddhist-majority countries, governments have sought to harness the moral authority of Buddhism to bolster national identity and regime credibility. For example, in Myanmar, successive regimes since independence have either officially promoted Buddhism as the state religion or instrumentalized “Buddhist values” to secure political backing. In turn, Buddhist leaders have often embraced this support to promote Buddhist values and safeguard what they see as the cultural integrity of the nation. This mutually beneficial relationship—the entanglement of temple and state—has dangerous consequences.

When governments officially or informally favor Buddhism, they send a signal that militant Buddhist actors may act with impunity. Encouraged by their privileged status, these groups often target religious minorities—especially Muslims—under the guise of protecting national unity or preserving Buddhist heritage.

In Myanmar, Sri Lanka, and Thailand—countries where Buddhist vigilante violence has surged in the 21st century—state favoritism toward Buddhism created conditions ripe for religious conflict. In Myanmar specifically, the intertwining of religious authority and state power has empowered militant Buddhist movements, such as Ma Ba Tha (the Committee for the Protection of Race and Religion), and militant monks, including Ashin Wirathu, to incite violence against religious minorities. The state’s reluctance to hold these groups and individuals accountable has created an environment of impunity. In some cases, state actors have tacitly or overtly supported anti-Muslim rhetoric and actions, further emboldening militant monks and lay supporters. By contrast, in Singapore, where the state maintains strict neutrality in religious affairs, major Buddhist radicalization has not materialized.

Our findings offer sobering lessons for policymakers. Many political leaders believe that aligning with a dominant religious tradition can foster stability, trust, and social cohesion. But our research suggests that such favoritism often backfires. By privileging one faith over others, governments may unwittingly encourage vigilantism, deepen sectarian divisions, and erode the very harmony they seek to preserve.

Religious violence is not the monopoly of any one tradition. Nor is peace the natural state of any faith. The line between compassion and coercion, tolerance and intolerance, is shaped not just by scripture, but by the structures of power that surround and sustain religion in public life.