When Relavtist Anti-Colonialism Becomes Problematic: A Buddhist Perspective

A Tibetan teacher, Chokyi Lodro, allegedly sanctioned harsh physical punishment for misbehaving monks. The original question was straightforward: if a figure regarded as enlightened engaged in behavior that appears immoral, how should Buddhists reconcile that? A discussion that followed, however, was anything but straightforward. Rather than engaging the question within a Buddhist framework, several participants pivoted to a familiar modern argument. They suggested that judging such behavior as "wrong" imposes Western moral standards onto a different culture. According to this line of thinking, moral judgments are culturally relative, and applying contemporary ethical standards to historical or non-Western contexts is a form of colonialism. One commenter explicitly framed criticism of Chokyi Lodro’s conduct as "Eurocentric chauvinism", arguing that we have no grounds to judge actions outside our own "lifeworld".

At first, this may sound like a thoughtful and even compassionate position. After all, history is filled with examples of cultures imposing their values on others under the guise of objectivity. But the deeper one engages with the argument, the more one realizes something strange was happening. In the name of opposing colonialism, these critics were actually importing a distinctly modern Western philosophical framework - moral relativism - and demanding that it be imposed upon a non-Western religious tradition that does not share its premises. This is where the contradiction becomes impossible to ignore.

Like other world-religions, Buddhism is not a relativist philosophy and never has been. While Buddhist traditions recognize conventional truth and ultimate truth, this is not the same as saying truth itself is relative or culturally constructed. The Dharma is presented as a teaching about reality as it actually is. The Four Noble Truths are not offered as "true for some cultures but not others". They are presented as universally valid insights into suffering, its causes, and its cessation. Ethical teachings follow the same pattern. Principles like non-harm are not contingent on geography or historical era. When the Dhammapada says that one who harms living beings is not noble, it is not speaking conditionally. It is describing a truth about conduct.

What is striking most in this discussion is that the relativist position ends up doing precisely what it claims to oppose. It imposes a Western academic framework, rooted in postmodern skepticism of objectivity, onto traditions that developed entirely outside of that intellectual history. It tells Buddhists, in effect, "Your own framework for understanding objective truth and universal morality is invalid. You must reinterpret your tradition through our lens". That is not anti-colonialism; it is colonialism in a different form.

There is, of course, a legitimate concern underlying these arguments. Appeals to "objective truth" have historically been used to justify domination and oppression. That critique should not be dismissed. But rejecting the misuse of objectivity is not the same as rejecting objectivity itself. Most premodern cultures, including those of India, China, and Tibet, operated with some notion of objective truth and a universal moral order. Confucianism, Daoism, Hinduism, and Buddhism all assume that there is a way things are and a way we ought to act in light of that reality. The idea that morality is entirely relative is not some universal human insight. It is a relatively recent development, and largely a Western one.

The same pattern appears in the discussion of science. Several participants suggested that modern science is a product of Western colonial thinking and, therefore, suspect. This claim is not only philosophically confused, it is historically inaccurate. What we call "modern science" is the result of a long, cumulative process that spans multiple civilizations. Foundational mathematical concepts emerged from India. The development of algebra and key experimental methods owes much to scholars in the Islamic world. Chinese, Persian, and other traditions contributed significantly to medicine, astronomy, and engineering. The scientific method itself - forming hypotheses, testing them against observation, and refining them - is not a cultural artifact like a style of art. It is a disciplined approach to understanding a world that behaves consistently.

To dismiss science as "Western" is to erase the very non-Western contributions that made it possible. More importantly, it misunderstands what science is. Science does not claim authority based on cultural origin. It invites anyone, anywhere, to test its claims. A result that can be reproduced in Tokyo, Nairobi, or São Paulo carries the same weight as one produced in London. That universality is precisely what makes it powerful. Cultural perspectives can influence how we interpret reality, but they do not determine reality itself. A bridge will collapse under excessive load regardless of the cultural beliefs of the engineer who designed it. A harmful action will produce suffering regardless of whether a particular society approves of it. Reality has a way of pushing back against our assumptions.

There is also a deeper historical point here that often gets completely overlooked in these conversations. The claim that science is somehow “Western” collapses the moment you actually look at its foundations. The numerical system that underpins all modern computation traces back to India, where Brahmagupta formalized the concept of zero as a true number with arithmetic properties. Without zero, modern mathematics simply does not function. Try expressing calculus, algebraic equations, or even basic place-value arithmetic in Roman numerals and the entire system breaks down. That Indian mathematical framework was then transmitted and expanded by scholars in the Islamic world. Al-Khwarizmi not only helped systematize these numerals but also developed algebra itself, a word derived from his work al-jabr, which introduced general methods for solving equations. Later figures like Jabir ibn Hayyan advanced experimental practices in chemistry, emphasizing systematic observation, controlled experimentation, and reproducibility.

These are not peripheral contributions. They are the backbone of what we now call science. The very ability to model physical reality mathematically, to test hypotheses rigorously, and to refine theories over time is built on intellectual traditions that emerged long before Europe's scientific revolution. So when people casually label science as "Western", they are not only philosophically mistaken, they are erasing the profoundly global, and especially Eastern, origins of the scientific enterprise itself. This is where Buddhism and science, in an unexpected way, align. Both, at their best, are concerned with understanding reality as it is, not merely as we would like it to be. The Buddha does not ask for blind belief. He invites investigation. He presents a path that can be followed and tested through direct experience. In that sense, the Dharma is not a collection of arbitrary cultural norms. It is a method for discovering truth.

Returning to the original question about Chokyi Lodro, this is precisely why the issue matters. If Buddhism were a relativist system, the answer would be simple; it was a different time, a different culture, and therefore beyond judgment. But Buddhism is not that kind of system. It makes claims about what leads to suffering and what leads to its cessation. If an action appears to contradict those principles, it is not only permissible but necessary to examine it critically.

Some participants argued that we cannot judge because we "did not live in their world". But this assumes that there are fundamentally different worlds, rather than different interpretations of the same world. We all inhabit the same reality. The same basic facts about human suffering, harm, and well-being apply across cultures. The details may vary, but the underlying structure does not. In the end, the most troubling aspect of this discussion is not the disagreement itself, but the framework being imposed. When relativism is treated as the only acceptable lens, it shuts down meaningful inquiry. It prevents traditions from engaging with their own teachings on their own terms. And ironically, it does so in the name of respecting those traditions.

If anti-colonialism means anything, it should mean allowing cultures and traditions to speak for themselves, rather than forcing them into pre-existing theoretical frameworks. It should mean recognizing the plurality of human thought without flattening it into a single ideology. And it should mean being willing to distinguish between the misuse of ideas and the ideas themselves. Otherwise, we risk replacing one form of intellectual domination with another, all while convincing ourselves that we are doing the opposite. That is why, in this case, I cannot help but say it plainly: sir, your anti-colonialism is problematic!