Exploring the Intersection of Hunting Practices and Buddhist Non-Killing Doctrines in the 3rd to 6th Centuries AD in China: An Analysis of Memoirs of Eminent Monks

Abstract

This paper explores the complex interaction between Buddhist non-killing doctrines and the pervasive hunting culture in China during the 3rd to 6th centuries AD. While Buddhist teachings emphasized abstaining from killing, they also had to adapt to a society where hunting was common, impacting behavior at personal, royal, and state policy levels. The conflict between Buddhist values and hunting practices was not just an ethical opposition but also a reflection of deeper societal dynamics involving political power and cultural adaptation. Through a detailed analysis of the Memoirs of Eminent Monks and other historical texts, this paper examines how monks balanced religious precepts with the realities of their time. It also investigates Buddhism’s influence on royal hunting activities and state policies, particularly its contribution to hunting bans. By doing so, the study sheds light on how Buddhism shaped Chinese society and governance, offering new perspectives on the long-lasting cultural and political effects of Buddhist doctrines.

1. Introduction

Buddhism’s transmission and growth in China reached a critical stage during the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern dynasties (220–589 AD) (Tang 2006; Yan 2007; Zürcher [1959] 2007). During this era, Buddhist doctrines and ethical frameworks, especially the prohibition against taking life, were extensively disseminated, becoming increasingly ingrained in Chinese society. As one of the Five Precepts, the Buddhist doctrine of non-killing emphasizes compassion (Karuṇā) towards all sentient beings. Central to this teaching is the elimination of the negative karma arising from killing and the accumulation of merit to facilitate liberation (Wei 1998; Zhen 2011). Nevertheless, the spread of the Buddhist precept of “not killing” encountered a significant cultural challenge: the hunting culture.

Hunting, as a cultural phenomenon, was deeply embedded in ancient Chinese society, particularly during the 3rd to 6th centuries AD. It served practical functions, such as meeting food needs and facilitating military training, while also carrying symbolic significance in the display of political power and the maintenance of social order. Liu and Wei (2004) have suggested that in the early Northern Wei period (386–534 AD), hunting not only provided essential economic revenue and military supplies but was also closely linked to the consolidation of political authority and the development of aristocratic culture. Further studies by Li (1992) and Jia (2012) suggest that hunting played a critical role in sustaining livelihoods during periods of social unrest and resource scarcity. Within this socio-economic context, hunting took on dual roles: beyond its survival utility, it also became a powerful symbol. Emperors and the nobility frequently employed hunting as a means to project dominance and assert their mastery over nature. Although Confucian ethics imposed restrictions on hunting, emphasizing the importance of observing timeliness and environmental factors to avoid overhunting, it did not challenge the activity’s legitimacy or necessity.1 In Confucian philosophy, hunting was considered an essential aspect of maintaining the Mandate of Heaven and social order, as detailed in texts such as the Liji 禮記 (Book of Rites) and Zhouli 周禮 (Rites of Zhou), which outline its ritual protocols.

Buddhism, by contrast, posed a fundamental challenge to the notion of conquering nature. Its precept of non-killing demands compassion toward all forms of life, irrespective of size or species, with all sentient beings entitled to equal respect and protection. This doctrine particularly shapes Buddhist views on animal life, promoting a compassion that transcends human relationships to encompass all living creatures. As a result, following the introduction of Buddhism into China, the precept of non-killing rapidly came into direct conflict with traditional hunting practices.

The conflict between these perspectives extended beyond theoretical opposition to be reflected in cultural and political practices. During the 3rd to 6th centuries AD, Chinese society was marked by political instability and social transformation. Hunting was frequently employed as an essential tool for consolidating political power and displaying authority (Liu and Wei 2004; Xu 2004). However, as Buddhism spread and gained influence, particularly among the aristocracy, the non-killing precept emerged as a significant ethical discourse that began to shape societal views on hunting. In this context, many aristocrats not only embraced Buddhist teachings but also criticized and reflected on hunting practices, contending that such actions contradicted Buddhist precepts. They emphasized that killing would accumulate negative karma and hinder the path to personal liberation in their spiritual pursuits.

The relationship between the Buddhist doctrine of non-killing and traditional Chinese hunting culture illuminates two contrasting views of life: one represents humanity’s attempt to conquer nature through hunting, while the other embodies Buddhism’s compassionate philosophy that advocates for harmonious coexistence with animals. In this regard, the dissemination of Buddhism brought not only a religious influence but also incited profound ethical considerations regarding the human–nature relationship. This reflection was especially pertinent during the 3rd to 6th centuries, a time characterized by social unrest and political division, which fostered a deeper awareness of life’s impermanence. Within this context, the Buddhist precept of non-killing provided an ethical perspective that transcended anthropocentrism.

Recent years have seen a growing scholarly interest in the hunting culture and the spread of Buddhism during the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern dynasties. Cong (2016) and Jia (2023) have elucidated the intricate interplay between hunting culture and Buddhist thought, highlighting that hunting imagery in religious art not only symbolizes power and status but also embodies profound religious meanings. Xia (2013) examined how ministers advised emperors to curtail hunting by referencing government affairs, the livelihoods of farmers, and Buddhist teachings, thereby reflecting the strong connection between hunting culture and political ethics. This further underscores the potential impact of the Buddhist precept of non-killing on the behavioral regulation of the ruling class. Despite the existing research investigating the interaction between hunting culture and Buddhist doctrine from artistic, economic, and political angles, a systematic study as to how the Buddhist non-killing precept specifically influenced hunting practices, particularly regarding royal hunting prohibitions, remains absent.

The Gaoseng Zhuan 高僧傳 (Memoirs of Eminent Monks) document the activities of notable monks from the Eastern Han to the Southern dynasties (approximately the 1st to 6th century AD) and serve as significant resources for examining the evolution of Buddhism during this era and its interactions with social culture. This text not only encompasses the biographies of these monks but also presents specific cases and narratives regarding their practices. Such individual experiences offer tangible examples of the application of the Buddhist precept of non-killing within the context of hunting culture, thereby enhancing the empirical depth of the research. This study employs a historical document analysis approach, integrating the Memoirs of Eminent Monks with other Buddhist scriptures and royal edicts to elucidate the influence of the Buddhist principle of non-killing on individual monks, particularly those who participated in hunting activities. Furthermore, it investigates how Buddhism has regulated the hunting practices of emperors and nobles, which is ultimately manifested in national hunting prohibitions.

This study explores the tension and compromise inherent in the interaction between Buddhist doctrine and hunting culture to reveal how Buddhist teachings have taken root and flourished within China’s unique cultural context, gradually influencing social power structures. Particularly, the Buddhist concept of compassion, articulated through the precept of non-killing, challenges the anthropocentric values prevalent during this period and redefines the relationships between humans and nature, as well as between humans and animals. Given the increasingly severe contemporary ecological crisis, investigating the interplay between religious ethics and hunting culture during this historical period not only enhances our understanding of Buddhism’s adaptation and transformation within Chinese culture but also provides valuable ideological resources and ethical insights for modern society.

2. Hunting, Power, and Identity: The Role of Hunting in Chinese History

2.1. Hunting as a Means of Military Training and the Strengthening of Imperial Authority

In Chinese history, hunting has played a pivotal role, functioning not only as a method of securing food but also as an activity intricately linked to the political, military, and religious dimensions of society (Ge 2010, p. 126; Zhang 2021, p. 48). During the primitive period, hunting constituted the primary means of food procurement. As animal husbandry advanced, its significance declined, yet it continued to serve as a vital means of obtaining meat resources (Yuan 2015; Zhang 2021).

Although records of hunting during the Shang dynasty (c.1675–c.1046 BC) are limited, the oracle bone divinations provide critical research resources. Among them, 2880 inscriptions document hunting activities, covering eight aspects such as archery, the laying of nets, and the setting of traps. These details highlight the sophisticated hunting techniques of the Shang and emphasize the significance of hunting in royal life (Liu 1996; Sun 2007; Yang 2014, p. 195; Zhang 2021).

Hunting activities in the Western Zhou dynasty (c. 1046–771 BC) were conducted on an immense scale, with the records of royal hunts noting a considerable range and number of animals. According to the compendium of Chinese historical documents Yizhoushu 逸周書 (Superfluous Book of Zhou), King Wu’s hunts included “22 tigers, 2 cats, 5235 elks, 12 rhinoceroses, 721 yaks, 151 bears, 118 brown bears, 352 wild boars, 18 badgers, 16 large deers, 50 musk deer, 30 roe deer, and 3508 stags”.2 Hunting was also incorporated into Zhou ritual practices and deeply intertwined with politics, military preparation, and agricultural production. These rituals were codified and institutionalized, becoming central to the Zhou’s governance through li 禮 (ritual). Moreover, hunting reflected the social hierarchy, as the use of bows, arrows, and chariots adhered to the ritual regulations of the Zhou dynasty (Zhang 2021, pp. 48–49).

During the Spring and Autumn period, through the Warring States (770–221 BC) and into the unification of the Qin dynasty (221–206 BC), hunting activities were transformed into a significant method for military training. The Maoshi Zhengyi 毛詩正義 (The Correct Meaning of the Mao Commentary on the Book of Songs) indicates that the lords of vassal states utilized hunting as a means to enhance military skills, suggesting that hunting was not merely a leisure activity but was also regarded as an essential way to maintain combat readiness and foster a martial spirit (Ruan 2009, p. 784; Zhang 2021, p. 50). The rulers of the Qin dynasty often took their armies on hunts, which served not only as a recreational pastime but also as military drills. According to the historical text Shiji 史記 (Records of the Grand Historian), Duke Wen of Qin led 700 soldiers on an eastern hunt (Zhang 2021, p. 50; Sima 2014, p. 230). Additionally, the Qin Law meticulously outlined the regulations governing hunting, reflecting the systematic and planned nature of these activities (Chen 2014, pp. 44, 181; Zhang 2021, p. 50). As noted by Michael G. Chang (2007, p. 40), hunting served as a display of military might, as well as a means of training one’s troops in the field.

Military training through hunting activities was also inherited by the Han dynasty (201 BC–220 AD). The Records of the Grand Historian indicate that Liu Bang, the founder and first emperor of the Han dynasty, utilized hunting to elucidate military strategy (Sima 2014, p. 2448). This connection further reflects the inherent similarities between hunting activities and military warfare (Zhang 2021, p. 51). During this period, the prolonged friction between the border regions and nomadic tribes rendered hunting one of the key activities for military training among soldiers and civilians in these areas. The Hanshu 漢書 (Book of Han) notes that Tianshui and Longxi, being close to the nomadic tribes, emphasized the importance of “strengthening military readiness, enhancing physical strength, and prioritizing hunting” (Ban 1982, p. 1644; Zhang 2021, p. 51).

Moreover, falcons and dogs were used in the practice of hunting, both in military and ritual contexts, which historians of the time referred to as “jiaolie 校獵” or military hunting. The roles of the falcons and dogs change with the nature of the hunting, and in “jiaolie”, the imperial attitude and direct involvement of the emperor represent one of the royal symbols. The practice of military hunting was institutionalized during the Han dynasty, and the Houhanshu 後漢書 (Book of Later Han) provides us with the following episodes:

During the winter of 72 AD, Emperor Ming “conducted military hunting in Shanglin Garden”.

In the winter of 123 AD, Emperor An “conducted military hunting in Shanglin Garden”.

In the winter of 139 AD, Emperor Shun “conducted military hunting in Shanglin Garden, traversed Hangu Pass, and returned”.

In the winter of 154 AD, Emperor Huan “conducted military hunting in Shanglin Garden, reaching Hangu Pass”.

In the winter of 158 AD, Emperor Huan “conducted military hunting in Guangcheng, arriving at Shanglin Garden”.

In the winter of 163 AD, Emperor Huan “conducted military hunting in Guangcheng, arriving at both Hangu Pass and Shanglin Garden”.

In the winter of 182 AD, Emperor Ling “conducted military hunting in Shanglin Garden, traversed Hangu Pass, proceeded to Xunshou, and engaged in patrol hunting in Guangcheng Garden”.3

Military hunting activities, exemplified by public displays, are utilized as effective instruments for reinforcing the emperor’s military power and consolidating political authority. Furthermore, the hunting grounds, primarily royal hunting reserves such as the Shunlin Garden and the Guangcheng Garden, underscore the central significance of hunting in demonstrating imperial power.

Through these hunting activities, military leadership is exhibited, and symbols of power are communicated to the army and officials. Such military hunts typically entail intricate ritualistic processes, encompassing the initial parade, the hunting event itself, and subsequent feasts and performances, thereby establishing a comprehensive set of rituals for power display.

Cao (2006, pp. 140–48) delineates the military hunting process in six phases: preparation, the outing, the military parade, the pursuit, the banquet, and the entertainment. The immediate impetus for military hunting, as articulated by various poets of the era, was the military exercise termed “jiangwu 講武”. Nonetheless, the demonstration of royal power was of equal importance. This traditional activity encompassed not only the emperor but also the military, officials, scholars, and, on occasion, guests from “barbarian” territories, rendering it an ideal venue for showcasing royal authority. During the outing, it was stipulated that thirty-six carts, embellished with colorful flags, should precede the ceremonial team (Cao 2006, p. 142). At the banquet, poets presented commendatory poems (Cao 2006, p. 147), which were intended to serve a propagandistic function. The speed of the falcons and dogs in the pursuit of the hunt was lauded by poets in their verses, accentuating the regal attributes of the endeavor. Ma Rong’s eulogy of Guangcheng asserts “the dogs and horses compete, the eagles and falcons vie to attack, the horsemen assist from the side, and the swift carts evoke fear”.4 Wang Can’s (177–217 AD) poem on hunting with arrows conveys how “the falcons and dogs vie in pursuit, lively and brilliant; [the falcon] springs from the glove, [the dog] darts from the tail, tearing the prey and consuming the flesh”.5

Scenes depicting the preparation for the hunt, followed by the banquet and entertainment, create an idealized model of military hunting. This model, along with that of the local nobility, was already a favored iconographic theme, commonly represented in bas-reliefs on tombstones scattered across the expansive territories of the empire.

2.2. Falconry as a Representation of Status and Authority

Throughout the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern dynasties, falconry was a highly regarded activity among the aristocracy, functioning not only as a marker of status but also as a key method for demonstrating power. In the northern regimes of the so-called “barbarians”, falconry was deeply intertwined with nomadic traditions, with hunting embedded in everyday life and carrying notable economic and military importance (Li 1992; Hou 2010).

The status of the aristocracy was frequently demonstrated by the falcons and hunting dogs they utilized in hunting. Falcons, in particular, were more than just hunting instruments; they served as emblems of noble rank. Yuan Xin 元欣 (late 5th century to the early 6th century AD), a Xianbei nobleman, was described as “having a rough disposition and a fondness for falcons and dogs”.6 Qifu Hui 乞伏慧 (6th century AD), another Xianbei noble from Mayi (present-day Shanxi province), “was known in his youth for being generous and ambitious, excelling in archery and horsemanship, and showing a particular fondness for falcons and dogs”.7 Yuan Xin and Qifu Hui were renowned for their fondness for falcons and hunting dogs, through which they exhibited their authority and social status. Falconry emerged as a crucial element of aristocratic culture, serving as a symbol of personal prestige and the social standing of their lineage.

In the southern regions, aristocrats were similarly engaged in hunting activities. Zang Zhi 臧質 (400–454 AD), an official of the Liu Song dynasty (420–479 AD), hailed from Ju County and started his political career in Jiankang (present-day Nanjing). “In his youth, he was fond of falcons and dogs and excelled at gambling… Before reaching the age of twenty, the Emperor Wu of Song awarded him the military title of Xingcanjun”.8 This passage highlights how certain aristocratic figures of the Liu Song dynasty, such as Zang Zhi, were closely associated with falconry and hunting activities, which were not only forms of leisure but also reflected their status and upbringing. Zang Zhi’s early fondness for falcons and dogs parallels the practices of northern aristocrats, demonstrating a shared cultural affinity for hunting across different regions. Moreover, his skills in gambling and the early granting of a military title underscore how these activities were intertwined with the demonstration of power, social position, and individual abilities in the aristocratic culture of the period. Through such pursuits, the aristocracy reinforced their authority and distinguished themselves within the political and social hierarchy.

Archeological findings consistently demonstrate the portrayal of noble hunting scenes in murals and tombs. For example, a mural discovered in a tomb dated to 257 AD in Jiayuguan, Gansu, depicts three men engaged in hunting with an eagle and dogs. One eagle has already soared from the falconer’s hand, while another remains on the fist of a second falconer, as three hunting dogs pursue a rabbit (Xu et al. 2012, vol. 9, p. 12). Furthermore, another mural from Gansu, dating from 220 to 316 AD, presents a mounted man with an eagle, presumably the tomb owner, participating in hunting activities (Xu et al. 2012, vol. 9, p. 53). In Northeast China, a 6th-century mural from the Goguryeo kingdom (currently in Ji’an, Jilin province) similarly depicts a man hunting with an eagle (Xu et al. 2012, vol. 8, p. 161). These frescoes, characterized by their realistic style, are presumed to depict authentic hunting scenes from that era.

The proliferation of falconry among distinguished aristocratic families is regarded as having contributed to the establishment of the falconer profession. The term “falconer” is derived from “the office of falconers” within the Northern Wei dynasty; its founding date is uncertain, but it is believed to precede the latter half of the 5th century AD. A fragmentary anecdote in the Shishuo Xinyu 世說新語 (A New Account of the Tales of the World), compiled by Liu Yiqing 劉義慶 (403–444 AD) and his literary colleagues, relates how “Wang Xingdao says that Xie Wangcai’s restless behavior resembles a falconer who has lost his falcon”.9 The falcon master aligns with the term “falconer”; the Chinese terms “yingshi 鷹師 (falconer)” and “shi ying shi 失鷹師 (a master who has lost a falcon)” share the character “shi (master)”. The role of the falconer parallels that of a “hunter” controlling the falcon, a designation employed by Wang Fu 王符in his book Qianfu Lun 潛夫論 (Comments of a Recluse), referenced in the preceding chapter; nonetheless, “falconer” conveys a more precise meaning than “hunter”. The designation “falconer” embodies professionalism and an occupational identity, signifying the presence of falconers as a cohesive social group. Additionally, through the spread of this art among the aristocracy, numerous falconers, including those from rural origins, became attached to prominent families or the royal court, mirroring the falconers called upon by Emperor Yang of Sui 隋煬帝 (569–618 AD). In the early 6th century, Yuan Tan 元坦, the governor of the Ji region (a vast area in Northern China), “enjoyed hunting and fishing and ventured out daily. During autumn and winter, he pursued pheasants and rabbits; in spring and summer, he caught fish and crabs, accompanied by hundreds of falcons and dogs. He remarked that he could forgo food for three days but could not abstain from hunting for even one”.10 Therefore, the presence of hundreds of falcons and dogs would require a considerable number of falconers for their maintenance.

The term “falconer” likely emerged due to the influence of aristocrats who mastered the art of writing. One notable example is found in the records of Liu Yiqing, the chief compiler of A New Account of the Tales of the World and Youminglu 幽明錄 (Stories of darkness and brightness), which both contain episodes on falconry, previously referenced. His son-in-law, Wang Sengda 王僧達 (423–458 AD), “had a fondness for falcons and dogs and frequently hunted with young men from the district, personally slaughtering an ox. Upon learning this, Yiqing dispatched the Buddhist monk Huiguan to visit and observe him”.11 Although Wang Sengda was of noble birth, he might also be regarded as a falconer, a role Liu Yiqing recognized.

Falconry, widely practiced among the aristocracy as a symbol of social status, increasingly came into conflict with the Buddhist prohibition against killing. With the spread of Buddhism during the 3rd to 6th centuries AD, and especially the widespread promotion of the precept against taking life, hunting practices encountered growing moral challenges. This conflict extended beyond individual ethical decisions, revealing a profound tension between religious doctrine and aristocratic customs.

3. The Buddhist Precept of Non-Killing and Its Dissemination in China

3.1. The Origins and Central Concepts of the Non-Killing Precept

The Buddhist precept against killing is one of the most essential and significant precepts in the Buddhist ethical framework. As the foremost of the Five Precepts, it not only expresses a deep respect for life but also exemplifies the compassion (Karuṇā) that lies at the heart of Buddhist teachings (Gethin 1998, p. 507; Alarid and Wang 2001). The Buddhist precept of non-killing originates from the ancient Indian principle of non-violence (Ahiṃsā). This concept was central to Indian religions, particularly in Jainism, where non-violence was regarded as a fundamental doctrine, advocating for the respect and protection of all life forms. Early Buddhism, influenced by Jainism, similarly upheld the value of respecting life. The Buddha’s teachings were deeply imbued with this principle, as numerous scriptures emphasize the importance of kindness toward all sentient beings and the rejection of violence in any form. In this context, the Buddhist precept of non-killing gradually emerged. Despite doctrinal differences between Jainism and Buddhism, both shared a common commitment to the sanctity of life. This principle not only shaped Buddhist ethical thought but also contributed to the formation of social morality in later periods.

The Buddhist precept against killing targets all forms of life, categorized into four types: beings born from the womb, from eggs, from moisture, and through transformation. These types cover a wide range of living entities, including humans, animals, insects, and even microorganisms. Therefore, the precept not only prohibits the killing of humans but also extends protection to animals, fish, insects, and other living beings. The Buddha explicitly introduced this precept, underscoring its critical importance for those pursuing the path of spiritual development. In the Da Zhidu Lun 大智度論 (Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom), among all transgressions, the act of killing is the gravest; among all virtues, non-killing ranks highest (Kumārajīva, CBETA, T25, no. 1509, vol. 13, p. 0624c). This highlights that killing is viewed as one of the most serious offenses within Buddhist ethics. Through these teachings, the Buddha created a moral structure designed to guide practitioners in living a life grounded in compassion and non-violence (Zhang 1999, p. 291; Zhen 2011, pp. 136–37).

In Buddhism, the law of cause and effect (karma) serves as a crucial framework for understanding the precept of non-killing. The Ānanda Sūtra states that killing not only inflicts direct suffering on living beings but also results in severe negative repercussions for the perpetrator in future lives. The Buddha articulated this as follows: when one perceives lowly creatures such as animals and insects, compassion should always be extended (Zhi, CBETA, T14, no. 493, p. 0757). This teaching underscores the necessity of respecting all life, particularly the protection of animals, and instructs followers to cultivate compassion towards all living beings. The act of killing, especially through hunting, directly causes suffering to innocent animals, thereby violating the precept of non-killing and obstructing the perpetrator’s spiritual development. Consequently, Buddhists are encouraged to renounce violent actions and embrace compassion and assistance when encountering animals. Furthermore, the law of cause and effect (karma) is integral to comprehending the repercussions of killing and hunting. The perpetrator’s acts of killing will evoke appropriate punishments in this life or the next, particularly concerning violence against innocent animals. The Buddha warned that the negative consequences of killing might result in the perpetrator descending into unfavorable realms, enduring significant suffering. Thus, followers must acknowledge that hunting not only inflicts harm on animals but may also incur severe karmic consequences.

3.2. The Transmission of the Buddhist Precept of Non-Killing in China

Buddhism entered China in the first century AD, facilitated by An Shigao 安世高(c. 148–180 AD) and Lokakṣema 支婁迦讖 (147–189 AD), who translated Buddhist texts. Their teachings and explanations enabled followers to comprehend the significance of the precepts, resulting in the gradual awareness of the non-killing precept in Han China.

During the 3rd to 5th centuries AD, Buddhist teachings were disseminated and the translation of scriptures into Chinese was extensively facilitated by eminent monks such as Fotu Cheng 佛圖澄 (c. 232–348 AD), Dao’an 道安 (312–385 AD), Kumārajīva 鳩摩羅什 (344–413 AD), and Huiyuan 慧遠 (344–416 AD). This resulted in the gradual establishment of Chinese versions of the Tripitaka, solidifying the foundation of Buddhism in China (Li 2017, pp. 14–15). The groundwork for promoting the non-killing precept was laid by the translation and circulation of these texts. Significant scriptures, such as the Āgama and The Discourse On The Ten Wholesome Ways Of Action, clearly articulated this precept and explained its practical application in daily life. Consequently, the content and value of the precept were widely recognized and accepted within Chinese culture. The Discourse On The Ten Wholesome Ways Of Action specifically identifies non-killing as a fundamental moral principle, highlighting its positive impact on individuals and society. The propagation of this precept has had profound implications for moral perspectives in Chinese society, leading many adherents to develop a respect for and be protective of life.

Against this background, Xi Chao 郗超 (336–378 AD), in his text Fengfa Yao 奉法要 (Essentials for Believing in the Dharma), offered deeper insights into the concept of non-killing. He wrote, “What is meant by non-killing? It means always exercising compassion towards all living creatures, even the smallest ones, and never harming them, even in extreme situations, for one’s own benefit”.12 This statement demonstrates that the principle of non-killing obliges adherents to exhibit compassion for all living beings. Even in difficult situations, practitioners should avoid killing to serve their own interests. Xi Chao stressed that, in any circumstance, believers must maintain respect for all life forms. He further pointed out, “Whenever living beings are in danger, one should make every effort to save them, whether they dwell in water or on land, ensuring their proper care”.13 This statement further strengthens the practical application of the non-killing precept, advocating for believers to actively protect animals and other sentient beings in times of danger. Lastly, Xi Chao remarked, “If there is doubt that food was obtained through killing, it should not be accepted”.14 This underscores the importance of adhering to the non-killing precept in daily practice by rejecting any food derived from the harm of living beings (Zhen 2011).

The Buddhist precept of non-killing presented challenges to traditional hunting culture in China. Although hunting was significant in ancient society, the spread of Buddhism prompted a growing number of individuals to reflect on the ethical and moral implications of hunting practices. The principle of non-killing encourages adherents to reconsider the impact of their actions, gradually leading society to reassess hunting activities. This moral reflection has influenced the behavior of the general populace and attracted the attention of monks. In the Memoirs of Eminent Monks, the profound impact of Buddhist precepts is evident as many monks confront the issues of hunting and killing.

4. Individual Interactions of Monks with Hunting Culture

4.1. Zhi Zhun: The Tension Between Falconry and Horse-Raising Practices and Buddhist Precepts

Zhi Dun 支遁 (314–366 AD) is acknowledged as an eminent Buddhist monk of the Eastern Jin dynasty. Xu Song 許嵩 (7th–8th centuries) cited the writings of Xu Xun, a contemporary and friend of Zhi Dun, in his book Jiankang Shilu 建康實錄 (The Veritable Records of Jiankang):

Dun, whose courtesy name was Daolin, was often found residing in the eastern mountains of Shan, maintaining limited interaction with others. He was particularly fond of raising falcons and horses but refrained from riding them or allowing them to fly; consequently, he faced criticism. Zhi Dun responded, stating, “I appreciate their spirit and beauty”.15

In the Nenggaizhai Manlu 能改齋漫錄 (Random Notes from the Nenggai Studio), the author Wu Zeng 吳曾 (12th century) referenced the Shishuo Xinyu, noting that “Zhi Dun Daolin raised some horses, and some remarked that it was unbecoming for a monk to keep horses. Zhi [Dun] replied, ‘I value their spirit and beauty’”.16 Wu Zeng further referenced the Memoirs of Eminent Monks, which stated “Zhi Dun kept a falcon, and when questioned about this, he responded, ‘To admire its spirit and beauty’” (Wu 1979, pp. 277–78). Although the writings of Xu Xun have been lost, Memoirs of Eminent Monks records the following:

Someone gave Dun several horses, which he accepted and raised. At the time, some criticized this action, and Dun said: “I cherish their spirit and beauty; that is why I keep them”.17

The admiration Zhi Dun had for falcons appears to have been known even before the Tang dynasty (618–907 AD) and became more widely recognized during the Song period (960–1276 AD) (Qian 2001, pp. 230–33). Despite the prevalence of later sources about this story, examining the period in which Zhi Dun lived remains crucial for researching the relationship between falconry—or hunting in general—and Buddhism during that era, as well as understanding the motivations behind Emperor Xiaowen of Northern Wei 北魏孝文帝 (467–499 AD) and his reform banning falcons. Historical records indicate that hunters have used falcons and dogs as companions since the Spring and Autumn period (770–476 BC) (Song and Zhang 2016, p. 63). By the Han dynasty (202 BC–220 AD), falconry had become widespread, with carrying falcons and leading dogs becoming a symbol of aristocratic hunting and a popular social activity. During the Wei and Jin periods, particularly in regions such as Dunhuang and the Hexi Corridor, both Han Chinese and nomadic peoples practiced falconry extensively. This is reflected in the murals of tombs from this period, such as those found in Jiayuguan, Gaotai, Jiuyuan, and Wulanchaka, which vividly depict the rise and popularity of falconry in these areas.

Zhi Dun’s appreciation for falcons evokes a story recounted by Li Daoyuan 酈道元 (466 or 472–527 AD) in his Shuijing Zhu 水經注 (Commentary on the Water Classic), which mentions Liu Biao 劉表 (142–208 AD), the warlord at the end of the Han dynasty (202 BC–220 AD), who loved falcons and often visited a high pavilion where he sang the song Yeying Lai 野鷹來 (Let the Falcons Come). There is no evidence that Liu Biao hunted with falcons; he merely admired them. In contrast, Zhi Dun, as noted by Xu Song, was criticized for raising falcons without letting them fly, suggesting that it would be natural for him to hunt with these birds of prey. However, in the Memoirs of Eminent Monks, the emphasis is almost solely on the contrast between hunting and the role of Buddhist monks. Thus, Zhi Dun had to justify his reasons for raising horses, and in Wu Zeng’s account, he needed to address the criticism that “a monk keeping horses is not elegant”.

The life and actions of Zhi Dun provide a unique perspective on the interplay between Buddhist monasticism and the secular culture of the Eastern Jin dynasty. Zhi Dun’s engagement in activities such as raising falcons and horses reflects the tension between Buddhist precepts and the aristocratic culture of the time. His behavior demonstrates how Buddhist monks faced the hunting practices embedded in traditional aristocratic culture and also shows how monks sought balance and reconciliation in the complex social realities of their day. His story is not only a historical account but also a reflection of the ongoing dialogue between religious principles and societal norms.

4.2. The Transformation of Hunters into Buddhist Monks

Several accounts in the Memoirs of Eminent Monks illustrate how hunters, following a form of spiritual awakening, abandoned hunting and ultimately embraced Buddhism. This phenomenon underscores the importance of the Buddhist precept against killing in the religion’s expansion throughout China. It also reveals how Buddhism gradually shaped Chinese society, particularly influencing the beliefs and lifestyles of the aristocratic and noble classes. This section will analyze the narrative framework of hunters converting to monks and explore the cultural and social significance underlying these stories.

(a)

Experiencing Temporary Death

(3rd century) Zhu Shuxing, a gahapati from Hehan and originally from Tianzhu (ancient India), migrated to Henan to escape the calamities endured by his father’s generation. During his youth, Zhu was fond of hunting. However, after experiencing a state of temporary death and witnessing the workings of karma, his outlook was transformed. This experience led him to renounce his former lifestyle, devote himself to the study of Buddhism, and acquire proficiency in various languages.18

(Between the 4th and 5th centuries) Shi Huida, surname Liu, originally named Sahe, from Lishi in Xihe (located in present-day Shanxi, Hebei, and Inner Mongolia). In his youth, he loved hunting. When he was 31 years old, he suddenly experienced a temporary death. He woke up after a few days and had seen all the consequences of immoral actions… Once awakened, he left home (pabbajja) and began to study Buddhism, changing his name to Huida.19

Both examples follow a similar process: a passion for hunting, a near-death experience, and subsequent conversion to Buddhism, forming a recurring literary topos. This narrative structure suggests that the near-death experience, whether viewed as karmic retribution or as a rupture from an unwholesome lifestyle, plays a crucial role in the individuals’ conversions. In this context, death functions not only as a pivotal moment but also as a symbolic form of punishment or warning. It highlights the influence of karmic retribution and the concept of reincarnation on personal destiny. As a catalyst for Buddhist conversion, death opens a new spiritual path for these hunters, reflecting the broader acceptance of the Buddhist doctrine of samsara (the cycle of life, death, and rebirth) during the early spread of Buddhism in China.

(b)

Types of Enlightenment

(5th century) Shi Jingdu, from Yuhang in Wuxing (in present-day Zhejiang province), loved hunting in his youth. Once, he shot a doe that gave birth to a fawn. Though in pain, the doe still licked its fawn. Jingdu was enlightened by this, broke his bow and arrows, renounced hunting, became a monk, and embraced a vegetarian lifestyle.20

(5th century) Shi Fazong, from Linhai (in present-day Zhejiang province), loved hunting in his youth. Once in Shan, he shot a doe that gave birth to a fawn. Despite having an arrow in her body, the doe still licked her fawn. Fazong felt remorse and became enlightened, realizing that the love of life and offspring is shared by all. Consequently, he broke his bow and arrows, renounced hunting, and embraced the monastic path.21

These stories highlight the core Buddhist precept of Ahimsa (not killing), emphasizing the equality of all life and the cultivation of compassion. Here, the hunters do not attain enlightenment through death but through observing the emotions of animals, leading to their transformation. These narratives carry a strong ethical symbolism, illustrating how hunters, through emotional resonance, experience the suffering of others (including animals) and thereby come to recognize the cruelty of killing. Additionally, the cases of Shi Jingdu and Shi Fazong again show a literary topos or a legend known in the Zhejiang region. They provide a reason for turning away from hunting and joining Buddhism, based on the Buddhist principle of Ahimsa.

(c)

Buddhist Ethics and Their Social Implications

Buddhism conveys not only the ethical principle of non-killing but also extends this ethic to a broader social moral framework. The notion of refraining from killing animals inherently implies a commitment to not killing humans, a concept exemplified in the case of the monk Zhicheng:

(5th century) Shi Zhicheng, surname Pei, from Wenxi in Hedong (in present-day Shanxi province)… In his youth, he was generous and loved archery and horses. When he was 17 years old, he followed Wang Xuanmo and Shentan to attack the Xianyun tribe to the north. Every time the battle began, he felt compassion and sorrow. He said, “Harming others for one’s own benefit is not the goal of a moral man.”… Then he hurried to the master at Nanjian Temple (in present-day Fuzhou) to request the Five Precepts.22

This example reinforces the Buddhist belief that all life—human and animal—is to be protected, and that even those who once engaged in violence can find redemption through repentance and renunciation.

Saving both animals and humans is considered an act of virtue in these narratives.

(Between the 4th and 5th centuries) Once, Shi Zong passed by a fishing enclosure and saw fishermen making a big catch. Zong went upstream to bathe in the river, causing the fish to scatter, thus saving living beings.23

These acts of compassion illustrate a broader Buddhist understanding of ethical action, where even small gestures aimed at saving lives contribute to the practitioner’s moral growth. These examples align with the Mahayana ideal of the bodhisattva, who seeks to alleviate the suffering of all sentient beings.

Monks had to refrain from hunting, and this idea might not only be for self-discipline but also to influence others. In fact, Buddhists criticized others for hunting excessively, as seen in the following 4th-century example:

(4th century) Zhang Li and Zhang Liang, ministers of Shi Hu, became wealthy and began practicing Buddhism. Both built pagodas, but Fotu Cheng said, “Practicing Buddhism means being calm, eliminating desires, and having a compassionate heart. You, dana-patis (benefactors), follow Buddhism in a superficial manner but remain greedy and miserly, hunting without limit and amassing wealth endlessly. You will be punished in this life, and you will not receive the blessings you hope for!” In the end, Zhang Li and others were killed.24

This critique underscores Buddhism’s stance that true spiritual practice must go beyond outward displays of piety and involve genuine ethical transformation, particularly in relation to violence and greed.

In these examples, monks hunted in their youth and then stopped. As mentioned earlier, hunting could lead young men down two paths: the military path, where hunters, being strong and agile, were recruited into the army; or the path of hunters themselves, who sustained their livelihoods through hunting. Becoming a monk is a different path altogether, requiring the breaking of the bow and arrows. This is related to the Buddhist concept of not killing, and the economy of temples at the time was not based on hunting or animal husbandry.

(d)

The Privileges and Contradictions of Intellectuals

However, Buddhist practice was not always straightforward or uniformly applied. The case of Zhi Dun presents a notable contradiction, as he seemed to enjoy certain privileges that allowed him to engage in activities that conflicted with traditional monastic values: not only did he raise falcons (as Xu Song noted) and horses, but he also fished and hunted with other famous literati. Xie An 謝安 (320–385 AD), a renowned literatus,

lived in Kuaiji (in present-day Zhejiang province), maintained friendships with Wang Xizhi, Xu Xun from Gaoyang, and the monk Zhi Dun. When they went out, they fished and hunted in the mountains and rivers. Upon returning, they conversed and wrote, having no desire to live in the mundane world.25

This phenomenon can be explained by the particular “assimilation of monks with famous literati”26 during the Eastern Jin period, of which Zhi Dun is an exemplary case. Lu Xun coined the term Wei–Jin style to describe the typical behaviors of literati during the Wei and Eastern Jin periods, such as drinking customs, aesthetic evaluation, pure conversations (Qingtan 清談), and nonconformity, which expressed a sense of freedom from the ethical codes of the time. Zhi Dun, as a Buddhist monk, also took on the role of a famous literatus. He moved among many famous literati and was known for his pure conversations. Raising falcons and horses to admire their spirit and beauty, and hunting with friends among the mountains and rivers, were behaviors that made him an extraordinary monk. We should not ignore that most of these literati were nobles, and Zhi Dun likely came from a noble family as well (Xu 2005, pp. 32–42). Zhi Dun’s affinity for hunting might have resulted from his assimilation into the life of noble literati, which helped shape his outstanding image. He raised falcons and horses not for hunting, although he had his reasons. This could be a trace left by Buddhist disciplines. This phenomenon reveals the diversity and complexity of Buddhist practice, reflecting the inconsistency of moral values and lifestyles among different groups within specific historical contexts. While renouncing hunting is generally regarded as a necessary step in the conversion to Buddhism, the case of Zhi Zhun demonstrates that social status and personal influence may grant certain monks greater flexibility in interpreting the precepts. This raises important discussions regarding the differences between elite monks and ordinary monks in early Chinese Buddhism, while also highlighting society’s leniency towards privileged monks.

The narratives found in the Memoirs of Eminent Monks present diverse forms of transformation in which hunters become monks, thereby reflecting the dissemination and practice of the Buddhist precept of non-killing within the context of Chinese culture. Through experiences of death or emotional awakening, these hunters attain the conversion to Buddhism, illustrating the religion’s profound influence among the aristocratic and noble classes. However, the cases of figures such as Zhi Zhun reveal the tension between Buddhist precepts and the lifestyles of the elite, suggesting that Buddhism in China was not a monolithic tradition; rather, it continually adapted to and integrated with the prevailing social and cultural milieu of its time.

5. The Buddhist Precept of Non-Killing and Its Relation to Royal Hunting Practices

5.1. Abolition of Falconry Office by Emperor Xiaowen of Northern Wei

On February 16, 480 AD, under the orders of Emperor Xiaowen of Northern Wei 北魏孝文帝27 (467–499 AD), the Falconry Office was officially shut down, and the site was repurposed for the construction of the Baode Temple 報德寺 (Temple of Repaying Kindness) (Wei 1974, p. 148). This office, which had overseen imperial falconry activities for hunting, was located within the Deer Garden, a vast imperial estate north of the capital, Pingcheng (modern Datong), used for hunting, breeding, and religious activities (Li 1992, pp. 106–18; Sagawa 2001, pp. 102–36). The Deer Garden served as a vast imperial estate dedicated to breeding, hunting, and religious activities, and before Emperor Xiaowen’s time, it played a key role in converting resources from the nomadic to the agrarian world (Sagawa 2001, p. 121). In addition to the Falconry Office, the Hunting Office and the Archery Office were also part of this system (Li 1992, p. 111). The title “Lielang” 獵郎 (hunting man) referred to those employed in these offices (Li 1992, p. 116). The Hunting Office fell under the authority of the Neihangzhang 內行長 (Superintendent of Internal Affairs), who reported directly to the emperor. The emperors themselves participated in hunting within the Deer Garden, where the Falconry Office played a central role. However, by Emperor Xiaowen’s time, these offices were gradually losing their significance, culminating in the closure of the Falconry Office.

The closure of the Falconry Office raises critical questions: why was it shut down, and how was this connected to the rise of Buddhism and the establishment of the Baode Temple? Was this a direct result of the Buddhist rejection of hunting practices? Scholars such as Li (1992) argue that this event must be understood in the broader context of the empire’s economic transformation from a hunting-based to an agrarian economy. On the other hand, Sagawa (2001) emphasizes the impact of environmental changes on the empire’s evolution, both acknowledging the role of Buddhism in this transformation. In this section, we will attempt to address these questions by examining the relationship between falconry and Buddhism in the context of the empire’s transformation.

The closure of the Falconry Office signaled the decline of the hunting function in the Deer Garden. Built in 399 AD, the Deer Garden served as the primary hunting ground for the imperial family until the reign of Emperor Xiaowen. During the 85-year reign of the five emperors preceding Xiaowen, imperial hunts were held 67 times. In contrast, Emperor Xiaowen abstained from hunting, and the eight subsequent emperors, over a combined reign of 63 years, organized hunts only three times. Although hunting was not confined to the Deer Garden, it was one of the primary locations for such activities, especially given its proximity to the capital, Pingcheng. In 463 AD, Emperor Wencheng of Northern Wei 北魏文成帝28 (440–465 AD) “visited the western garden and personally killed three tigers”.29 In 468 AD, Emperor Xianwen of Northern Wei 北魏獻文帝30 (454–476 AD) “went hunting in the western mountains and personally killed tigers and leopards”.31 These hunts took place in the mountainous region west of the Deer Garden, where a “tiger field” was constructed specifically for hunting tigers (Sagawa 2001, pp. 122–23).

Every year, a large number of livestock were transported to the Deer Garden, supplied by regions near the Yin Mountains and the Western River. Predators like tigers posed a threat to the livestock, and hunting served as a means of protecting these animals (Sagawa 2001, p. 119). Sagawa (2001, p. 123) has noted that tomb paintings from the Northern Wei period often depict hunting scenes alongside banquets. This suggests that, in the Deer Garden, the game not only provided food for banquets but also served religious sacrificial purposes.

In summary, the Deer Garden’s hunting landscape gradually diminished, particularly during Emperor Xiaowen’s reign, as highlighted by Li Hu’s statistics. A contemporary record from the Buddhist text Guanghongmingji 廣弘明集 (Collection of Writings on Great Enlightenment) preserves a poem written by Gao Yun 高允, a scholar and official at the Northern Wei court around 471 AD, which narrates the following:

He delights in meditation in the forest, and there is no longer any falconry or hunting with dogs; he tends to the elderly to expand his virtue, liberating living beings to prolong their blessings.32

Sagawa cites this poem to describe the transformation of the Deer Garden, noting that by this time it had ceased to be a place for falconry and had become a space for imperial meditation and non-violence (Sagawa 2001, p. 128). As the empire underwent this transformation, the closure of the Falconry Office in the 470 AD was a natural outcome. According to Sagawa, livestock farming in the Yinshan region had already degraded the Deer Garden’s environment, and by the mid-5th century, its forests had vanished. However, the decline in hunting does not indicate a lack of game; rather, it reflects the empire’s changing priorities. The government issued a series of hunting bans, beginning in 473 AD with Emperor Xiaowen’s edict prohibiting the keeping of raptors, followed by a decree in 475 AD banning the raising of falcons, and finally, in 480 AD, the order to close the Falconry Office itself (Wei 1974, pp. 3039, 141, 148; Li 1992, p. 116). The banning of raptors, central to hunting, essentially equated to a prohibition of hunting altogether. These continuous decrees indicate that hunting was no longer a viable economic activity, and the imperial consciousness had shifted.

At the ideological level, the involvement of Buddhism in this imperial transformation cannot be overlooked, particularly in the changing landscape of the Deer Garden. Sagawa cites Emperor Wencheng’s 463 decree banning hunting, noting that it was rooted in Confucian thought rather than Buddhism. While this observation is correct, the situation changed during Emperor Xianwen’s reign. The Shiku Temple was built within the Deer Garden, and the Luyuan Fu 鹿苑赋 (Poem of the Deer Garden) reflects how Xianwen restructured the space according to Buddhist principles. Notably, the poet, who had been a Buddhist monk in his youth, persuaded Xianwen to abdicate the throne in pursuit of a more Buddhist-aligned life.

The 473 decree banning raptors was similarly influenced by Buddhist compassion:

Xianzu (Emperor Xianwen) went hunting, and a falcon caught a mandarin duck from a pair. The other duck cried out in sorrow, flying up and down, unwilling to leave. The emperor, moved by the sight, asked, “Is the one flying a male or female?” His companions answered, “Female”. He asked, “How do you know?” They replied, “The male is stoic, while the female is soft, so we assume it is female”. The emperor sighed, saying, “Though humans and birds are different, what difference is there in their nature and feelings?” He then issued the decree banning the raising of raptors.33

This episode mirrors earlier tales where hunters converted to Buddhism after experiencing compassion from animals. It is recorded in the chapter “Shilaozhi” of the Weishu 魏書 (Book of Wei), dedicated to the history of Buddhism during the period. As an official chronicle, the Book of Wei reflects the Buddhist inclinations of the rulers, who saw this episode as significant. Following this, the Baode Temple was constructed in 480 AD, replacing the Falconry Office, in line with the Buddhist principle of non-violence. The construction of the temple, as recorded in the biography of Empress Dowager Feng 馮太后34 (442–490 AD), sought to “repay kindness, according to awakened wisdom (sambodhi), freeing birds of prey and those who kill living beings into the mountains and forests and using the site to construct a pagoda for the Empress Dowager”.35 The reference to “awakened wisdom” clearly highlights the Buddhist influence, as does the directive to “free the raptors”. Thus, it is evident that falconry and Buddhism stood in direct opposition to one another, with the latter ultimately triumphing over the former.

In this section, we have demonstrated that the closure of the Falconry Office resulted from both economic and environmental transformations, as well as the influence of Buddhism’s non-violence and compassion toward animals. Following Emperor Xiaowen of the Northern Wei’s religious policies, the influence of Buddhism in the north continued to expand, increasingly impacting imperial authority. Over time, we arrive at the Northern Qi dynasty (550–577 AD), whose hunting prohibition also reflects the profound influence of Buddhist thought on imperial power.

5.2. The Hunting Prohibition Policy of the Northern Qi

The Beiqishu and Beishi recorded the regulations regarding the prohibition of hawking issued by the Northern Qi court on two occasions. The first instance occurred between the spring and summer of 557 AD, during the reign of Emperor Wenxuan 北齊文宣帝36 (526–559 AD), the founding emperor of the Northern Qi dynasty of China. During this period, the following was noted:

In the March of spring (which corresponds to April–May in the Western calendar), intense heat caused fatalities due to heatstroke. On the day of Gengwu in the summer month of April (May 15), an order was issued: “All activities related to the capture of shrimp, crabs, and mollusks must be halted; only fishing is permitted”. On the day of Yiyou (May 30), it was ordered, “The hunting of eagles and hawks, whether privately owned or state-owned, is prohibited”.37

The second prohibition was established in the spring of 569 AD during the reign of Houzu of Northern Qi 北齊後主38 (556–577 AD), the penultimate emperor of the Northern Qi:

It is ordered, “The hunting of eagles and hawks using nets, as well as the breeding of these caged animals, is prohibited”.39

The hunting ban indicates the prevalence of hunting at that time. The Northern Qi dynasty inherited lands in the eastern part of the Northern Wei dynasty, and the hunting economy in the central regions of the new kingdom—namely, the provinces of Shanxi, Henan, and Hebei—was likely to continue. In the first instance, the prohibition on fishing and hunting at both popular and elite levels appears to be a response to the climatic disaster occurring between April and May. In the second instance, considering the spring season, it seems to function as a decree aimed at protecting animal reproduction. However, the influence of Buddhism is also evident here. The Collection of Writings on Great Enlightenment contains a decree issued by Emperor Wenxuan in 555 to support Buddhism by suppressing Taoism, which is accompanied by a Buddhist narrative:

Once, Master Chou reminded the Emperor (Wenxuan), “The malevolent spirits (Raksasa) are governing the country in his stead; he can see them before the water”. The emperor heeded this advice, saw the malevolent spirits behind him, and thus refrained from eating meat, prohibited eagles and hawks, ceased fishing activities, and eliminated the sale of meat and spices, ensuring they did not enter the market.40

This episode may have been a fabrication by the monks (Liu 2011), yet a logical chain can be observed: Buddhism—non-killing—rejection of hunting (falconry).

In the case of Houzu of Northern Qi, the hunting prohibition was also linked to the reconstruction of the Great Temple of Xingsheng, which began the month prior to the issuance of the ban. However, this remains a hypothesis until further evidence is found.

It is paradoxical to note that, after issuing the ban on hawking, Houzu went hunting in the same month:

The emperor rode east of the city to practice archery, ordering the women of the capital to come and watch. Those who did not attend were punished under military law for seven days.41

While this seemingly reflects the nobility of hunting activities, it starkly contrasts with the moral foundations of the hunting prohibition.

The establishment of this ban was evidently influenced by Buddhist thought, which emphasizes compassion and non-violence towards animals. The prohibition targeted both privately owned and state-owned falcons, indicating the imperial intention to align with the moral standards advocated by Buddhism through the protection of wildlife. Furthermore, the order for women to participate in watching the hunting activity, although seemingly aimed at elevating the social status of hunting, primarily reflects the peculiar personality of the emperor rather than a steadfast commitment to Buddhist principles (Li 1972, pp. 67–69).

It is noteworthy that Houzu was known for his obsession with hunting falcons and dogs, yet at the time of issuing the hunting ban, he was only 14 years old. If this behavior is not an exaggeration or misrepresentation, it can be inferred that his hunting activities do not necessarily contradict the non-violent principles espoused by Buddhism. This paradox reveals the complex relationship between hunting and Buddhism, as well as the tensions the emperor faced in balancing personal interests with religious morals during the policy-making process.

This also raises an important question: was the precept of non-killing followed by rulers out of genuine religious conviction, or was it merely utilized as an ideological tool by them and their bureaucratic system? If the emperor truly adhered to this precept, why did he continue to participate in hunting activities after enacting the policy? Does this behavior suggest that, in practical political contexts, the principles of religious doctrine are often overshadowed by political interests? If the precept is considered a political instrument, can the non-killing policy be regarded as an effective strategy for governance? Houzu’s actions may reveal the complex stance of rulers navigating the tension between political motives and religious beliefs: while the hunting ban was implemented as a means to demonstrate support for Buddhist teachings and to reinforce his authority and legitimacy within society, his continued participation in hunting highlights the difficulty of reconciling religious morals with personal actions in practice.

5.3. The Hunting Prohibition of Emperor Wu of the Southern Liang

Emperor Wu of Liang 梁武帝 (464–549 AD) was one of the most prominent supporters of Buddhism in Chinese history. The Collection of Writings on Great Enlightenment recorded the edict issued in 512 AD by Emperor Wu:

Remove the sacrifices in the Confucian temple, practice the Buddhist precepts, eat only vegetables, and abstain from desires.42

Between the 3rd and 6th centuries, the protectors’ focus on the precept of non-killing and the promotion of life-preserving ideologies led to significant social conflict, particularly concerning the prohibition of meat consumption (Ji 2014, p. 43). During this period, non-killing and meat abstinence were perceived as interconnected concepts that imposed stringent demands on individuals’ lifestyles. The edict issued by Emperor Wu of the Liang dynasty illustrates his commitment to integrating Buddhist principles into the social and moral fabric. He championed vegetarianism, not merely as a new dietary practice but as a means to disseminate the Buddhist doctrine of non-killing. Within Buddhism, vegetarianism is regarded as an extension of compassion, achieved by minimizing harm to living beings. For Emperor Wu, vegetarianism represented a broader moral reform aimed at establishing non-violence as a societal standard aligned with Buddhist ethics (Chen 2013; Li 2017, pp. 22–25).

Emperor Wu than appointed the monk Sengyou from Shangdinglin Temple and Zhengbo Chaodu from Longhua County to carry out this edict. Buddhist monks petitioned,

The region around the capital (Nanjing) is a blessed land, yet people still fish, and hunters continue to pursue game with falcons and dogs. This conduct does not align with the virtuous intentions of the royal dynasty. We request the prohibition of hunting and fishing in the areas of Danyang and Langya (both near the city of Nanjing).43

The discontent of monks regarding the practice of hunting in the “blessed land” is highlighted in this paragraph, as they perceived such actions to be at odds with the moral tenets of the dynasty. Hunting served not merely as a survival strategy but as a representation of power and status during this period. Nobles and royalty often demonstrated their social position and courage through hunting. However, within a context that celebrated non-violence and compassion, this activity became increasingly controversial. Consequently, hunting evolved from a customary form of entertainment and subsistence into an activity necessitating control and limitation. The hunting prohibition illustrates a significant cultural transformation: influenced by Buddhist ethics, society began to reconsider the relationship between humanity and nature.

In this process, the hunting edict issued by Emperor Liang Wu represented both a response to Buddhist principles and an attempt to steer societal norms toward a lifestyle imbued with greater ethical awareness. The enactment of this policy unquestionably triggered extensive discourse and introspection in contemporary society. It encompassed not only religious and moral dimensions but also extended to social structures and cultural traditions.

The contemporary scholar Wang Sengru 王僧儒 (465–522 AD), an official in the Liang court, also condemned hunting. In a poem dedicated to Buddhist rituals, he listed “setting dogs to chase and falcons to soar” among the “ten evils”.44 This widespread opposition to hunting and support for Buddhist precepts in society reflects not only Emperor Wu of Liang’s personal beliefs but also the growing influence of Buddhism in that era.

The Emperor’s strong support for Buddhism was evident, with both monks and scholars inclined towards Buddhism actively opposing the practice of hunting.

6. Conclusions

The Buddhist doctrine of non-killing, which was introduced to China from India, was established as an important tenet within Chinese Buddhism. With the propagation and evolution of Buddhism, the doctrine of non-killing not only regulated the conduct of monks but also significantly influenced the ethical perspectives of secular society. Through the concepts of causality and its correlation with epidemics, the philosophy of non-killing in Buddhism continuously underscored the necessity of respecting life and avoiding acts of killing. Nevertheless, the tension between the Buddhist non-killing doctrine and traditional Chinese culture, especially concerning hunting culture, presented a challenge that required continual balancing and practical application.

Hunting, a key aspect of the upper class, inevitably conflicted with Buddhist doctrines. Individually, some former hunters abandoned their past acts of killing after embracing Buddhism, actively following its precepts and the doctrine of non-violence. At the royal and aristocratic levels, as Buddhism’s influence on the ruling class grew, monks and monastic communities affected the hunting practices of emperors and nobles, promoting anti-hunting policies that reduced killing. This illustrates the broader societal influence of the Buddhist precept against killing. However, the case of Zhi Zhun indicates a diversity within Buddhist practices, as not all monks adhered uniformly to the same precepts. Instead, individual experiences and social contexts significantly shaped the interpretation and application of Buddhist teachings. The stories of these monks reveal both Buddhism’s transformative potential and the tensions and contradictions that existed in early Buddhist communities.

These narratives offer insights into the ethical thought of medieval China. The Buddhist principles of non-violence and compassion significantly impacted individuals and society, providing a path to spiritual redemption and moral clarity for people of that time. Buddhism did not completely eliminate hunting culture; instead, it shifted attitudes toward animals and nature by promoting compassion and the precept of non-killing. Hunting evolved from a mere symbol of power and status into an activity that demanded moral restraint. This change reflects both the dissemination of Buddhism and a reconfiguration of the human–nature relationship in Chinese culture.

The interaction between the Buddhist doctrine of non-killing and ancient Chinese hunting culture serves as a quintessential example of the clash and fusion of different Eastern philosophical traditions. Through this process, Buddhism not only introduced a new ethical framework regarding life but also confronted traditional hunting practices and anthropocentrism through its non-violence teachings. As Buddhism was disseminated throughout China, the principle of non-killing increasingly permeated the moral framework of Chinese society, leading to profound reflections on animals’ existence and the interrelationship between humanity and nature. Future studies may investigate the redefinition of animality and divinity from a creaturely theology perspective, thereby yielding deeper insights into the contemporary relevance of Buddhist ethics.