The Soldier who Meditated
Liv Gaborit is a social scientist who has worked with DIGNITY, a Danish organization focused on addressing issues of torture. As part of her work, she was given permission to study the impact of vipassana meditation in Insein Prison in Myanmar. During her research, she spoke with a former Army officer who had been part of the Tatmadaw, the military of Myanmar.
The following excerpt from our podcast conversation highlights the transformative power of vipassana meditation even for someone who has committed serious harm. It also speaks to the cultural and philosophical context in which metta (loving-kindness) practice takes on deeper meaning, particularly in the context of the present conflict in Myanmar. Even in our Western context of relative safety, practicing metta towards someone we dislike can be not so easy, though important to do. But in Myanmar today, where the stakes are very high and conflicts very intense, this practice is much more challenging, and its value even more evident. Her comments provide great insight into the Tatmadaw, showing how individuals within the military may, sadly, not have fully understood the moral implications of their actions, as they are trained to simply follow orders without question.
“One of the yogis I talked to, he was he was a former Army officer. He described to me how he had been killing people his whole life for work. And he didn't realize that was wrong, because he has grown up within the Tatmadaw. Only when he killed another officer, and went to prison for that, did he realize that actually killing other human beings is wrong. Then when he went to the meditation retreats, he realized that it was not only illegal, it was also immoral. So, he had to make peace with all of the harm and suffering he had caused [while] being part of the army.
He expressed how he wished he had encountered vipassanā earlier in his life. He hoped that in his next life, he would encounter vipassanā earlier and that he would do less wrong, so that he would have the time to become a good yogi, because he didn't feel like he had the time left in this life. I just imagine how it must have been for him to sit through the first Vipassana retreats, and deal with this realization, of having caused so much pain and suffering for others, and not having known how wrong that was!
And then to come to a place where he felt at relative peace. He felt that he was now living in accordance with values that he could stand behind, but that he couldn't really change anything about his past. He knew that he was carrying a lot of bad kammic energy with him because of the actions he had committed. I think that story, in itself, speaks a lot to the difference between mettā and vipassanā and the value of both, for his realization and for his future practice. And also of the importance of mettā towards himself after being in such a complicated situation.
I think the other thing is that, when coming from a Western tradition, mettā makes a lot more sense in an Asian context, it makes a lot more sense when you get the cultural setting and the philosophy behind it explained properly. When it was presented to me as part of MBSR and ‘mindfulness,’ it felt kind of flat and empty, and ‘fluffy’ as you call it, because it's like you don't get the full depth of what it actually means. Of what it actually means to think of loving-kindness towards someone that you dislike. For example, yes, I can think loving-kindness towards someone I dislike, in a Danish context, where we're all relatively similar, and our conflicts are relatively small. But if you think about loving-kindness in a context like Myanmar, towards someone you dislike, someone who is your enemy, then the stakes are so much higher. And the value of that practice also seems so much richer and, I think, very relevant today with the conflict and all of the divides within Myanmar that have to be overcome. I think mettā is really key in bridging some of all of those divides.”