“I’m not the only one suffering,” Ashin Mandala said recently, his voice weak but filled with resolve. “We are hearing things, but we don’t know when it will happen. So many lives in our village have been destroyed. So many lives are now ruined.” 

The uncertain future that U Mandala and his community anxiously await— which has already shattered homes and devastated lives—is the looming threat of another military assault on their small town of Ingyinbin. The remote Upper Burma village was made famous due to the widely venerated spiritual figure, Webu Sayadaw, who was born there in 1896 and where he was reputed to have become an arahant. The small kuti where he is believed to have attained enlightenment still stands. 

By the mid-20th century, Webu had turned Ingyinbin into a significant spiritual center that attracted people from all walks of life, including many notable, Burmese elites; it is a spiritual legacy that, at least prior to the coup, also attracted seekers from around the world. Notably, Ingyinbin is where Goenka’s teacher, Sayagyi U Ba Khin, came to ordain as a monk. His experience in Ingyinbin affected him so deeply that it was there that he first conceived of the idea of spreading Vipassana meditation globally, a mission that Webu came to encourage and support. Remarkably, one could accurately say that the very seeds of Goenka’s Vipassana movement were first sown right there.

Webu Sayadaw was a much sought-after teacher. Unlike other Burmese monks who focused on scholarly pursuits, Webu believed in the direct experience of the dhamma through meditation, in particular anapanasati, the practice of observing the breath. His emphasis on simplicity made his teachings particularly accessible to laypeople, who were drawn to his ability to ground profound spiritual truths in everyday life. He oversaw two primary monasteries in the village: the Pariyatti Monastery, which focused on theoretical studies of Buddhist texts, and the Patipatti Monastery, which he established, dedicated to meditation practice. 

After Webu Sayadaw’s death, in 1977, Ashin Mandala—who ordained under him—played a crucial role in preserving and promoting the Sayadaw’s teachings. He maintained the village as a spiritual haven, helping facilitate pilgrimages and generously hosting and caring for large groups of foreigners. Yet as U Mandala recently reported, this once tranquil place is now under assault. 

After some fighting in the area, insurgents liberated the military camp outside nearby Madaung Hla village on August 26–27, after which a brutal military retaliation ensued, including a series of twelve airstrikes, some of which bombed an area just three miles from Ingyinbin. Unfortunately, this reprisal was not unexpected. Lorcan Lovett recently described how resistance forces have at times avoided liberating certain junta strongholds out of fear that the military will respond with extreme violence against surrounding civilian areas. Still, it is an equally difficult decision to leave them in military hands, because the regime uses them to launch artillery and drone strikes on nearby towns and villages; they often even establish bases in monastery compounds. This is all part of a strategy beyond simply military objectives: It is designed to terrorize the population into submission. In the case of the Khin-U region, several villages were set ablaze, including Phan Khar Kone, Saw Gyi, and Thanat Sein, displacing thousands. Ingyinbin was not spared, either, with at least forty homes destroyed. Soldiers even ransacked and looted Webu’s sacred Pariyatti Monastery.

To make matters worse, U Mandala had to be rushed out during the crisis for emergency medical treatment, leaving the monastery in disarray, with monks and novices scattered, disrobed, or sent to safer locations. Only twenty monks now remain. U Mandala speculates that there are now fears that the soldiers may return to further pillage important sites associated with Webu Sayadaw.

And yet, there has been little involvement or efforts made by the Vipassana Organization in the tradition of S. N. Goenka.

To be clear, the term “Organization” as it applies to this tradition needs to be unpacked. “Organization” here does not represent a monolithic entity under an overarching, leading figure or board. It is more an association of independently operating boards of authority based on geographical region—in India, the United States, Europe, etc.—and which also includes the Vipassana Research Institute (VRI) and Pariyatti Press. Operating under the administrative umbrella and oversight of these regional entities, individual meditation centers function somewhat autonomously (aside from standardized meditation course procedures) and run their own respective social media feeds, etc., but there are also official social media accounts, run by the Indian authority, which purport to speak for the Organization as a whole. In this article, we use “Organization” as a term of convenience to refer to the tradition as a whole, as well as the individual geographic regional boards of authority acting (or not acting) either on their own or collectively, and also the individual meditation centers.  

Put simply, there is no clear line of authority that runs through the Organization. Regional meditation centers do not always function harmoniously and are not always in agreement; moreover, there is no oversight to mediate their differences. Paradoxically, a tradition that so emphasizes a universalist spiritual message is also characterized by so much internal tension and challenges, which severely complicate its ability to act as one whole.

Over the years, the deep historical and spiritual connection between this meditation tradition and the town of Ingyinbin has been honored by the Organization in several ways. For example, Pariyatti Press arranged for seven pre-coup pilgrimages to the Golden Land that all stayed at the Ingyinbin monastery for several days. In the past, U Mandala has hosted dozens of teachers and students from the Goenka tradition, and he has been invited to speak at several Vipassana meditation centers. 

Yet despite these intimate connections, as far as we know, at time of publication no part of the broader Organization has spoken publicly about the plight of Ingyinbin or the urgent needs of its people. Since the start of the coup, the Organization has resisted repeated attempts to even publicly acknowledge the existence of the humanitarian disaster unfolding in Myanmar. 

Some senior teachers assert that speaking out could further endanger their Burmese friends. However, it’s difficult to imagine a single Burmese person living in fear who would prefer that overseas allies stay silent—for years, no less—about the horrors being perpetrated on them by the military junta. In fact, U Mandala, himself, has urgently requested that this dire situation be communicated to the global community of meditators. Instead of silence, any regional authority could, either individually or in conjunction with others, honor the sacred sites they claim to cherish by reaching out and asking how best to support their friends in their desperate time of need. After all, Goenka often expressed a deep warmth throughout his lifetime about the Golden Land. For example, he once wrote: 

“How can any Vipassana meditator ever forget the debt to Myanmar? To be grateful is strong evidence of progress in dhamma. Gratitude is abundantly beneficial. Thus we are all very grateful.”

When the country and its people are suffering so, does a genuine, deep debt of gratitude have any meaning beyond thinking fondly of the country while sending metta at the end of a meditation session?

One possibility for the tradition’s silence on the ongoing crisis in its spiritual homeland may be “spiritual bypass.” Clyde Ford, a nationally recognized antiracism trainer, who is also a Vipassana meditator in this tradition, defines spiritual bypass as “using spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep or avoid facing unresolved emotional issues, psychological wounds, or social injustices.” Recognizing that this is an issue for the Organization at least insofar as regarding systemic racism, Vipassana meditation centers in the United States have invited Ford to lead workshops around this issue with their teachers and students. However, Ford also believes that using spiritual beliefs as a pretext for silence and passivity regarding the junta’s brutality against the people of Burma may also be considered a form of spiritual bypass. 

Goenka, himself, was not always apolitical. He wrote forcefully and passionately about the infamous September 11 attacks in a piece that called out the terrorists, expressed solidarity with the Americans, and shared compassion with the victims’ families. VRI characterized Goenka’s decision to engage politically in this critical situation as follows: 

“The question about how to deal with terrorism was bound to come up after the 11 September attack on the Twin Towers. This question came after Goenkaji’s talk on 24th May in the huge ballroom of the Westin Hotel in Westminster filled to capacity with people from the Boulder and Denver areas. He explained that it is the responsibility of the government to look after the security of its people. All responsible citizens must help in this task to the best of their ability.” 

Following his talk, he flew to New York City and led a one-day meditation course at “Ground Zero,” in what amounted to a clearly political decision.

Yet in an interview Pariyatti conducted last year with Vipassana teacher Patrick Given-Wilson, he presents a rigid perspective that seems at odds with Goenka’s own actions after September 11. When asked how “meditators today [should] respond to the violence that our Burmese brothers and sisters are currently facing,” especially given the debt of gratitude that Goenka so often stressed for meditators in this tradition, Given-Wilson’s response slightly shifted the focus, as he referred to something he’d heard Goenka say many years earlier on the topic of political engagement. He describes Goenka as stating unequivocally that the tradition—both as a whole, and regarding individual meditators—should assiduously avoid political engagement (although individual meditators can certainly give humanitarian assistance), and adds that Goenka said something like, “We never say anything about what’s going on there [in Burma], because if we did, the people who are on the ‘government side’ would never come and take courses.” Given-Wilson adds that Goenka then mentioned an “army colonel or general” who happened to be sitting a course with a “freedom fighter” to illustrate the wisdom of an apolitical stance, as well as to stress how positive change in the world can best be achieved through meditation. This black-and-white characterization of Goenka’s perspective is promoted by the more conservative leadership throughout the Organization today.  

But again, there appears to be a contradiction between the unyielding perspective that has taken hold in the Organization on the one hand, and on the other, the one articulated by Goenka, himself, in those tense and challenging days after 9/11. The reality is that the tradition has historically chosen when and how to engage socially and politically, not that it has never done so.

And even if he did convey those exact sentiments more than two decades ago about the situation in Myanmar, they concerned circumstances as they were then—but who really knows what Goenka would say about the terrible and untenable situation in Myanmar now, when circumstances are so very different: when Ingyinbin is under imminent threat, when even Webu’s chief disciple, U Mandala, begs for meditators to become aware of what is happening, when Buddhism is being debased by the military, when monks are going hungry, when villages are being destroyed, thousands killed, and millions displaced? To reiterate, rather than acting on a rigid principle of “no political engagement, ever,” Goenka, himself, responded flexibly to circumstances and context. And given that even VRI quoted Goenka as saying how it is “the responsibility of the government to look after the security of its people,” how would he respond to a situation in which the acting authority is not only not looking after the security of its people but also actively terrorizing them and killing them on a scale that dwarfs 9/11, the event that so moved Goenka? 

The reality for the Organization is that they are confronted with a new and particularly terrible set of circumstances in Myanmar now. We urge the Organization to follow Goenka’s own example by responding to the unique and urgent circumstances of the moment: a direct military assault on a revered site, the relentless terror being inflicted on the Burmese people, and a grave threat to the very survival of Buddhism in the country.

Moreover, the reality is that just as Goenka made political decisions, so, too, has the Organization since Goenka’s passing, in spite of their protestations to the contrary and the categorical position articulated by Given-Wilson. Perhaps the most egregious example occurred earlier this year, in February, when the official accounts of the Vipassana Organization on Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube (all of which appear to be run by VRI) platformed a video by Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi giving a speech commemorating S. N. Goenka’s birth centenary, which was then shared on the accounts of several other Organization-related accounts and websites. Some defended it by characterizing the video tribute as just a heartwarming example of how their meditation technique was being praised by a powerful world figure. They assert that Modi’s illiberal tendencies are irrelevant, and that taking sides on that issue would be “political,” lying outside the scope of the Organization’s mission. 

However, the decision to platform a speech by a very divisive leader is inherently political, and even within the Organization, it was a controversial decision. Modi engages in harsh, anti-Muslim rhetoric, promotes extremist Hindu nationalism, and acts on authoritarian tendencies. But even more than that, India provides diplomatic support and essential military equipment and training to the Myanmar junta, which includes a controversial $51 million arms deal. Pundits supporting his Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) opine that the murderous military regime in Myanmar must be part of the country’s future. And although the Indian government uses realpolitik to justify its active support of the junta, the reality is that Modi’s policies directly enable the military to perpetuate its terror, indiscriminately bombing villages, killing tens of thousands, displacing millions, and ruining the economy. The scale of destruction and trauma that Modi is enabling in Myanmar should be cause for condemnation by any ethical standard. Can an Organization that truly proclaims a deep debt of gratitude for Myanmar not only stand silent but go so far as to align itself with a leader who supplies many of the weapons that are being used to destroy it?  

In fact, it appears that Modi’s speech, and the Organization’s decision to platform it, is more nuanced than simply being a grateful acknowledgment of a sincere tribute. For example, one longtime analyst suggests a mutually beneficial, strategic alignment between New Delhi and the Vipassana Organization. For their part, the Organization gains visibility and their brand is promoted globally, especially in India. But the analyst acknowledges that the Goenka family’s significant economic entanglements in India and possibly even with the Burmese military may have played a role in the decision to platform the video as well. For Modi, his public embrace of Vipassana as part of the country’s cultural heritage serves as a projection of soft power, enabling the BJP to garner more support from Buddhist and other spiritual communities in India before their recent elections, as well as enhancing connections with Buddhist countries throughout the region. Both the speech and its platforming were, in large part, politically motivated acts—and because of that, an online petition urging the Organization to take this video off of their official sites is now being circulated not only among Burmese democracy activists and others but also meditators in the Goenka tradition. The hope is that even if the entire Organization will not respond as one for the benefit of the Burmese people, some formal part or parts of the Organization—as well as individual meditators and teachers— may be willing to do so. This is also an important issue for Burmese democracy activists, who have been calling out international bodies that offer legitimacy to their oppressors; they find it quite bewildering that an organization ostensibly promoting peace and inner wisdom supports a key, regional leader who is actively propping up the murderous junta.

Who really knows what Goenka would say about the terrible and untenable situation in Myanmar now, when circumstances are so very different: when Ingyinbin is under imminent threat…when monks are going hungry, when villages are being destroyed, thousands killed, and millions displaced?

This crisis compels us to examine the dissonance between cherished spiritual teachings and the silence and inaction of those who claim to uphold them, in the face of oppression, violence, and terror toward innocent people. It raises a pressing question that all individual meditators, as well as institutions, should ponder: What is the wholesome alignment of internal, spiritual practice with external, ethical responsibility? According to the law of karma, all actions have inescapable moral and ethical (and some, also political) consequences, either positive or negative. This includes the intention to not act to help alleviate the suffering of others. 

In the end, aligning with a figure such as Modi, who is complicit in knowingly backing a regime responsible for such brutal violence, is harmful not only to the Burmese people but, in the long run, to the Goenka Organization itself. Staying silent about the terror and atrocities in Ingyinbin, where the Organization has deep spiritual ties, is detrimental not only to the survival of that sacred site but, in the long run, to the Goenka tradition itself.

The plight of tiny yet revered Ingyinbin is a microcosm of the entire situation in Myanmar. How do those devoted to the Buddha’s teachings integrate their practice in the context of pressing social and political challenges? There is no simple answer. But we may do well to recall the thought-provoking words of the Venerable Bhikkhu Bodhi. An American Theravada Buddhist monk known for his influential translations of key Buddhist texts, Bhikkhu Bodhi has played a significant role in making the teachings of the Pali canon accessible to Western audiences. Like Given-Wilson, he was once also asked how foreign meditators should respond to the current crisis. But he gave quite a different response, saying: 

“It would be a wholesome quality within oneself to develop that kind of gratitude [for the teachings that have come from Myanmar], and also maybe to extend thoughts of gratitude toward the people of Myanmar. But …[if one] doesn’t take any further action, that could be a kind of cop-out, or what’s called a ‘spiritual bypass.’ At the same time that one is experiencing the gratitude and sending the gratitude to the people and the teachers of Myanmar, one can find ways to express that gratitude and action by finding opportunities to connect with organizations and associations that are committed to opposing the military junta and supporting the resistance movement in Myanmar.” 

As practitioners, we all have the individual responsibility to carefully consider and answer that question, just as we believe the Vipassana Organization in the tradition of S. N. Goenka also must do.