Buddhist Democratic Socialism

Since the election of Abdul El-Sayed in Michigan, and of course Zohran Mamdani in New York, the Socialists are having a moment. (El-Sayed is not a member of the Democratic Socialists of America (DSA), but is a Bernie-endorsed progressive, which means his platform is essentially the same.) AOC has rejoined the DSA, and membership is surging. DSA priorities include things like universal healthcare, climate action, housing and job security, and addressing the ongoing harms of slavery, Indigenous genocide, and colonialism. Their program is a set of progressive ideals taken to their logical—radical, politically improbable—conclusions, so naturally I love them. American convert Buddhism has largely taken root in politically progressive communities, and a lot of folks in our Saṅghas hold views like these, if not always taken as far as this platform does. So let's think about Democratic Socialism in relation to the Buddha's ideas and practice, starting with its two named concepts.

First, “Democratic.” The Buddha lived in a dynamic political moment where there were various models of governance in close proximity, from the imperial kingdom of Magadha, ruled by Ajatasattu the haunted parricide we meet in DN 2, to the Vajji democratic republic whose governance and social practices the Buddha praises in DN 16. The Vajjis had a large assembly of community leaders who met to make policy, seeking consensus but also voting. The assembly was oligarchic, composed of heads of families and community leaders, with the same general demographics as the famous ancient Greek demos in Athens: excluding women, slaves, and the working class. The Buddha drew on his experience with the Vajjian system in his organization of the monastic Saṅgha, and the monastery regulations in the Vinaya still maintain a democratic, consensus-based model.

Despite that, the ancient Buddhist ideal government described in the Pāli discourses is not democracy, but benevolent monarchy: the “Wheel-Turning Monarch” (DN 26). This is an individual (of any gender—there were several powerful queens in ancient India) firmly established in the Dhamma, who is able to act fully in the interests of the people, not themself. The main governance practice they use is wealth redistribution. Wheel-turning monarchs spend tax revenues to support working class people in their trades, uplifting the general economy while minimizing crime, since crime is seen as a corollary of poverty. So while this is not democratic, it is definitely proto-socialist, so more on that in a moment.

I empathize with a growing number of young folks saying they’re democracy-skeptics. I think successful democracy depends on universal education, a strong safety net, an election system protected from corruption, and classic civic virtues like empathy, tolerance, and generosity. Folks need to be able to vote in an informed way, with the skills to be able to think clearly about large-scale issues. When all of these are weak, as they are now in the US, it seems inevitable that demagogues and bad actors will be able to gain power. So democracy is beautiful, but corruptible. (Yeah, we know.) And of course, how often does a selfless, generous, wise monarch (or well-designed technocracy) come along—and survive politically long enough to stabilize their realm in socialist egalitarian bliss? (Excuse me while I take a relaxed phone call from some Danish friends.)

So early Buddhism says it would be great to have an enlightened (or enlightenment-adjacent) king or queen, but when that’s not happening, it’s good to be in a stable, well-run republic. Great. I wish I was. What about the Socialist part? Is this tax-and-spend monarchy really the Buddhist economic ideal?

The heart of Buddhist economics is compassion, the wish to prevent suffering for others. In economic practice, one traditional expression of this is using minimal resources for yourself, and giving away resources and wealth to benefit others. Using minimal resources is captured in the term nekkhamma, usually translated as renunciation. And giving away resources is of course dāna, inspired giving. Dāna and nekkhamma are a matched set, the internal and external aspects of what we might call “right/wise economics.” Of course there is already a limb in the Eightfold Path for this, sammā-ājīva, usually translated as “wise livelihood.” The classical definition is just a list of professions to avoid, but in the same way that we always now include systemic considerations as part of individual ethical cultivation, I take livelihood to include all the ways our actions interact with the larger economic system, which at this point is global.

The thing that’s hard about Buddhist Socialism as a large scale system rather than an individual orientation toward simplicity and generosity is that not everyone wants to restrain their consumption or give to others. Dāna and nekkhamma are practices, not normative or prescriptive ethics (things everyone should do in order to conform with social norms). You have to cultivate them intentionally, and doing so often goes against the stream of the culture around you. This is the problem anytime we try to make Buddhist ethical ideals into social mores. You can’t force anyone else want to be kind, generous, or compassionate, all you can do is try to convince them to want to. Because of this, Buddhist ethics always snaps back to individual practice, and leading by example. Start by cleaning your side of the street, and then make coalitions with others through dialogue, connection, and mutuality, not coercion, and slowly there are more clean streets.

The Wheel-Turning Monarch also presumably does not rule over a realm where everyone always feels generous. The socialism of this wise ruler uses the soft coercion of taxes to support their redistributive practice, and the understanding seems to be that the benefit of decreased crime and increased economic activity will benefit everyone and prevent dissatisfaction or rebellion. In the real world, it doesn't always work. King Aśoka, the closest to a Buddhist emperor India ever had, aroused the rebellion of the Brahmins because his egalitarian practices stripped them of their hereditary power. He also formed a kind of moral police called dhamma-mahāmattas, empowered to enter people's homes to enforce Buddhist orthodoxy. Yikes. I don’t think the Buddha would have approved. Aśoka was overthrown by a Brahmin revolt that led to a long anti-Buddhist backlash and resurgence of Brahmanism and caste separation.

So I do read Buddhism as inherently Socialist, and encourage participation with groups like the DSA if you feel like they reflect your values well enough. But our practice always has to be rooted in our own cultivation of the core practices: learn to do with less, and give much away. Renunciation is complex in a moment when only a tiny percentage of our very unequal population has the kind of excess resources where they can get real traction simplifying their consumption. Most everyone I know is barely getting by, hanging on in expensive progressive cities, with a margin of simplification only amounting to a few luxuries. You can’t easily scale back your rent, healthcare, or basic needs. But every bit of simplifying our personal consumption footprint can be a satisfying shift in the kind of energy we engage with every day. Simplifying our lives is good practice, at any level. And then we have to organize, to enter coalitions with others. That’s politics.

Dāna is the same. Giving away our resources to support others, especially those who live solely on that support, like dependents, elders, and monastics, bears profound fruit. Joyful giving is the secret to successful Socialism, which never survives only on coercion. Speaking of the Danes, read the stories of them celebrating the quality of life in their country and speaking in surprisingly positive ways about their high tax rates. Surprising only to us, maybe, in a terrifyingly unequal oligarchy that seems to care little for the well-being of its lower castes and classes.

Though I’m at times skeptical about at least two out of three of these labels, call me a Buddhist Democratic Socialist. Maybe you’re one too.