*Article* **Khmer Nuns and Filial Debts: Buddhist Intersections in Contemporary Cambodia**

**Trent Walker**

Ho Center for Buddhist Studies, Stanford University, Stanford, CA 94305, USA; ttwalker@stanford.edu

**Abstract:** Cambodian Buddhist nuns, including the white‑robed *t* ˙ *ūn jī,* occupy a fraught confluence of competing cultural and religious narratives. Chief among these narratives is gratitude to moth‑ ers, among the most powerful structuring forces in Khmer Buddhist culture. By ordaining as nuns, Khmer women break no explicit moral rules, but violate implicit conventions to bear children for their husbands and care for their parents in old age. To explore how this tension plays out in the lives of individual nuns, I draw on public statements and social media posts of two of the most promi‑ nent nuns in Cambodia today, Chea Silieng and Heng Kosorl. The two nuns have taken a divergent approach to filial debts, with Silieng emphasizing freedom from her birth family, husband, and chil‑ dren and Kosorl frequently posting about acts of devotion to her parents and grandparents. Both approaches reveal the profoundly gendered dimensions of filial piety and the complex intersection of such narratives with the growing stature of nuns as Buddhist leaders and teachers in Cambodia.

**Keywords:** Cambodian Buddhism; Buddhist nuns; filial piety; gratitude, *t* ˙ *ūn jī/doun chi*; *upāsikā*

#### **1. Introduction: Khmer Nuns, Familial Renunciation, and Filial Gratitude**

The imperative of renunciation for seeking ultimate liberation and the importance of filiality for repaying debts to parents have long structured social relationships in Bud‑ dhist societies. The usual model, particularly prevalent in Theravada Buddhist cultures, is that sons should repay their debts to their parents through monastic ordination (Kourilsky 2022, p. 165). To demonstrate filial gratitude, especially for one's mother, generations of Southeast Asian men have ordained as novices or monks. As Nancy Eberhardt's fieldwork among Shan Buddhists shows, such ordination ceremonies are as much a rite of passage for the mothers involved as they are for their sons (Eberhardt 2006, pp. 135–41). However, what of mothers and daughters, including those who ordain as nuns? How do they figure into Theravada Buddhist logics around renunciation and repayment?

The situation of Buddhist nuns in Cambodia offers an important test case for these questions. Khmer Buddhist nuns, particularly the white‑clad renunciates known as *t* ˙ *ūn jī*, face a fraught confluence of competing cultural and religious narratives in Cambodian society. As is true elsewhere in Theravada societies across Southeast Asia, gratitude to mothers is among the most powerful structuring forces in Khmer culture. Unexpectedly, however, the societal imperative of women to bear children is left unstated in the tradi‑ tional didactic poetry that has long reinforced normative gender roles in Cambodian life. These texts call on women to be subservient to their husbands, framing their arguments in Buddhist terms, but say nothing of the value or importance of procreation. While Khmer Buddhist texts make more of the duties of sons to their mothers, particularly the need to temporarily ordain as a monk to repay this maternal debt, the duties of daughters to their parents are scarcely mentioned. By ordaining as nuns, Khmer women break no explicit moral rules, but violate implicit conventions to bear children for their husbands and care for their parents in old age.

This article offers a pair of case studies on two prominent Khmer nuns in order to explore how these tangled issues of motherhood, filiality, and monasticism intersect in the

**Citation:** Walker, Trent. 2022. Khmer Nuns and Filial Debts: Buddhist Intersections in Contemporary Cambodia. *Religions* 13: 897. https://doi.org/10.3390/rel13100897

Academic Editor: Nicola Schneider

Received: 26 July 2022 Accepted: 20 September 2022 Published: 23 September 2022

**Publisher's Note:** MDPI stays neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affil‑ iations.

**Copyright:** © 2022 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (https:// creativecommons.org/licenses/by/ 4.0/).

lives of Cambodian Buddhist women. As a specialist in Buddhist texts, including their written, material, and performative dimensions, my contextualization of Buddhist nuns within Cambodian approaches to gender and gratitude is mostly drawn from Khmer print and manuscript sources, rather than formal ethnography. Due to the COVID‑19 pandemic, I was not able to return to Cambodia to conduct field research on Buddhist nuns, so my primary sources for the two cases studies in the second half of the article include public Facebook posts, online articles from Cambodian news organizations, and a video interview posted to a Buddhist social media channel, all dating from the past five years. These online sources open many new windows for appreciating Khmer perspectives on the intersections of female renunciation and filial gratitude in Buddhist contexts.

To explore how the tension between renunciation and filiality plays out in the lives of individual women monastics, I draw on online sources pertaining to two of the most prominent nuns in Cambodia today. The first, Chea Silieng (*Jā Ŝīlie* . *n*), age seventy, is a well‑known meditation teacher in Battambang province who has attracted hundreds of students, including monks, nuns, and laypeople, to her community set in a series of hill‑ side caverns. While not an active social media user herself, Silieng is a frequent subject of discussion in Cambodian media outlets, and several extensive interviews with her and sermons of her teachings circulate on Facebook and YouTube, two of the leading social media venues among Cambodians today. The second, Heng Kosorl (*He* . *n Kusal*), is in her late twenties and currently studying for her BA from the Department of Pali and Buddhist Studies at the University of Kelaniya in Colombo, Sri Lanka. She is perhaps the most ac‑ tive and popular nun on Cambodian social media, posting pictures, poems, and Dharma reflections to her nearly 5000 followers on Facebook up to several times a day. In the course of my research, I listened to all of Silieng's available online sermons and interviews, transcribing and translating selected portions, and read through the past three years of Kosorl's public‑facing Facebook posts, choosing relevant portions to analyze and translate here. In their public presentation, the two nuns have taken a divergent approach to filial debts, with Silieng emphasizing freedom from her birth family, husband, and children and Kosorl frequently posting about acts of devotion to her parents and grandparents. Both approaches reveal the profoundly gendered dimensions of filial piety as well as the com‑ plex ways gratitude and renunciation intersect in Khmer culture, particularly in light of the growing stature of nuns as Buddhist leaders and teachers in Cambodia.

#### **2. Female Renunciation in Context: Buddhist Nuns in Cambodia**

Like other contributions to this Special Issue, I begin with a brief survey of Buddhist nuns in the country this article focuses on, Cambodia. My aim here is to place issues of gender, gratitude, and renunciation within the broader context of female Buddhist monas‑ tics in Cambodia. As is true across much of the Buddhist world, Khmer male and female ascetics face grossly asymmetric prospects in terms of ordination, education, and societal recognition. Despite the vigorous presence of nuns in Cambodian Buddhist life, female renunciants figure very little in official discourse in Khmer. Entrenched by explicit cul‑ tural logics of patriarchy and misogyny, this silence on nuns effaces their considerable social and religious roles, both within and beyond Cambodia's political borders. The glar‑ ing omission of female monastics from most Khmer writing challenges us to look beyond conventional sources.

Despite the dominance of Buddhist discourse in Cambodia, discussions of nuns are only rarely found in stone inscriptions, palm‑leaf manuscripts, printed books, newspa‑ pers, recorded sermons, and social media posts. Buddhist publishing has burgeoned in Cambodia over the past three decades. This boom includes the reprinting of pre‑Khmer Rouge material from the 1920s to the 1970s—initially on the basis of Khmer books stored in Japanese libraries (Harris 2005, p. 206)—as well as a plethora of new writings. Yet, to my knowledge, there are no books entirely focused on nuns in Khmer, and only one short article in *Kambuja Suriyā*, the most prominent academic journal in Cambodia for much of the twentieth century, is devoted to nuns (Ga ˙n' Ved 1996). Very few Buddhist books

in Khmer mention the most common terms for eight‑ and ten‑precept nuns, even when discussing the core ordination rites such nuns partake in. These omissions extend to the vernacular manuscript tradition, which primarily represents texts composed between the sixteenth and early twentieth centuries. Though as many as 95% percent of Cambodia's manuscripts were lost between 1970 and 1990, the main genres appear to have survived intact (de Bernon et al. 2018, pp. xiii–xxviii). Within this surviving manuscript corpus, nuns are not mentioned in texts on ethics or comportment, nor in sermons or narrative compositions transmitted on palm leaf.

A number of works in English and Japanese over the past quarter‑century have ad‑ vanced our understanding on Cambodian nuns in important ways. The work of Heike Löschmann advocates for specific social programs and policies based on nuns (Löschmann 1995), with a particular emphasis on the work of the Association of Nuns and Laywomen in Cambodia, whose registered members had reached over 6000 by the end of the twentieth century (Löschmann 2000, p. 93). The work of Aing Sokroeun includes a research report on nuns published by the Buddhist Institute in 2006 and a comparative study of Thai and Khmer nuns (Sokroeun 2006). The most detailed and sustained work on Cambodian nuns by a single author is that of Takahashi Miwa, whose articles in Japanese include extensive research into Khmer nuns' motivations for religious life (Takahashi 2006), their liminal sta‑ tus vis à vis monks (Takahashi 2009), their intersections with parent‑child relationships in Cambodian culture (Takahashi 2012), and the emergence of nuns as Buddhist teachers (Takahashi 2014). Only one of her works on nuns—a careful study of the roles nuns play in cooking and offering food in Cambodian monasteries—has been published in English (Takahashi 2015, based on Takahashi 2013).

Many recent works on nuns in Cambodia are indebted to Elizabeth Guthrie's essay on the country's long history and contemporary trajectory of Khmer female ascetics (Guthrie 2004). As she points out, Cambodian epigraphy prior to the mid‑eighteenth century does include a number of references to Buddhist nuns more generally, starting with mentions of Mahāyāna nuns in the late twelfth or early thirteenth century and ending with the ordina‑ tion of several nuns recorded in 1747 (Guthrie 2004, pp. 144–46; Jacobsen 2006, p. 18; 2008, p. 81). The word for ordination in Khmer‑language epigraphy, *puos* (the root of the Thai and Lao word *buat*), was originally used in reference to Śaiva practices for both men and women (Guthrie 2004, p. 145). In fact, the very earliest dated inscription in Old Khmer, K. 600 from 612 CE, mentions the ordination of a group of women into religious life (Cœdès 1937–1966, II, p. 21). By the fourteenth century, *puos* is clearly linked to Buddhist ordina‑ tion (Pou 1981, p. 113), and in ordinary use has applied to both monks and nuns up to the present. In recent decades, however, the use of *puos* in reference to nuns has become con‑ tentious. Guthrie argues that contemporary attempts to deny the use of the term *puos* to *upāsikā*‑status nuns are rooted in modernist reforms of the early twentieth century as well as socialist sangha reforms of the 1980s, both of which tried to limit Cambodian Buddhist practice to a more narrow Pali‑based, androcentric model, that sees nuns as extraneous aberrations at best or baleful influences at worst (Guthrie 2004, pp. 146–47).

Even in the early 2020s, accurate statistics on nuns in Cambodia are hard to come by. The Ministry of Cults and Religions tracks the number of monasteries and monks but is silent on the numbers of nuns. According to the latest available figures, there are over 70,000 *bhikkhu* and *sāman* ˙ *era* in Cambodia, around one percent of the male population from a total population of nearly 17 million (Sam ˙ bhī 2018). There are only a few dozen *bhikkhunī* and *sāman* ˙ *erī* in Cambodia, most belonging to an originally Taiwanese temple—known as Dà Bōrě Sì in Chinese, Vatt Paññā Dham ˙ in Khmer, and Mahā Paññā Vihāra in English on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. This community maintains both Pali‑based Theravāda practices and Taiwanese Mahāyāna rites, and is officially recognized by the Dhammayut‑ tikanikāya sect in Cambodia, the smaller of the two main Theravāda sects in the coun‑ try (Dà bōrě sì jījīn huì 2016). The enthusiasm of the Cambodian Dhammayuttikanikāya toward this *bhikkhunī* community, which now includes women of Khmer as well as Tai‑ wanese descent, is all the more remarkable given the general opposition to higher ordina‑

tion for women within the Dhammayuttikanikāya sect in Thailand. A handful of Khmer women have sought *bhikkhunī* and *sāman* ˙ *erī* ordination in Sri Lanka as well, though they remain unrecognized by the Cambodian Ministry of Cults and Religions and the Sangha Council. A number of them have continued their monastic training in the United States. The energetic work of Marlai Ouch as both an advocate and a scholar has been espe‑ cially important in drawing attention to this emerging community of Khmer *bhikkhunī* and *sāman erī* in Cambodia and in diaspora communities abroad (Ouch 2020).

˙ The two nuns I focus on in this article are not known as *bhikkhunī* or*sāman* ˙ *erī* but come from the much larger community of nuns typically referred to as *t* ˙ *ūn jī* or *yāy jī* (often pho‑ netically spelled *doun chi/daun chee* or *yeay chi*), who may be eight‑ or ten‑precept *upāsikās*. *Ṭūn* and *yāy* are variant terms for "grandmother", and in this context *jī* means "ascetic" (as in *tā jī*, "grandfather ascetic"). Less common terms in contemporary Khmer include *nā* . *n jī* ("young lady asectic") and *m"*è *jī* ("mother ascetic"). The latter term is cognate with *mae chi* (graphically transliterated as *m*è*₁ jī*) in Thai. Contrary to a common understanding in Thailand, the word *jī*/*chi* is not derived from Sanskrit but rather from Old Khmer *aji/ji/jī*, whose original sense was "venerable ancestor" before it came to mean "ascetic" (de Bernon 1996, p. 88). Outside of kinship terms (such as *jī t* ˙ *ūn*, "grandmother" or "female ancestor", the inverse of *t* ˙ *ūn jī*), *jī* also appears in Khmer in the word *brah* ˙ *jī*, meaning the largest or most venerable (*jī*) Buddha image (*brah* ˙ ) in a temple (de Bernon 1996, 89n7). The terms *t* ˙ *ūn jī* or *yāy jī* can thus be understood as meaning "venerable grandmother", namely a celibate *upāsikā* who is to be revered on account of her status as an ascetic renunciant.

Despite the etymology suggesting that only elderly women can take on this status, women of any age may ordain as *t* ˙ *ūn jī*. Ten‑precept *t* ˙ *ūn jī* are expected to wear white robes at all times and shave their heads and eyebrows every two or four weeks; some eight‑ precept nuns follow a similar practice. As they are often living in monastic settings, I agree with Martin Seeger (personal communication) that the term "lay nun" is not appropriate for *mae chi* in Thailand or *t* ˙ *ūn jī* in Cambodia, even if their status as white‑clad eight‑ or ten‑precept nuns is distinct from *sāman erī, sikkhāmānā*, or *bhikkhunī*.

˙ The number of *t* ˙ *ūn jī* in Cambodia was estimated at around 3000 in 1995 (Guthrie 2004, p. 147, citing Löschmann 1995, p. 5), 10,000 in 2000 (Löschmann 2000, p. 93), and 20,000 in 2006 (Sokroeun 2006, p. 112). If those numbers have continued to increase to the present, then the number of nuns may be close to half of one percent of the female popu‑ lation, or around half the number of *bhikkhu* and *sāman* ˙ *era*. However, reliable data remain scarce. The government began to track the number of nuns in 2009, though only sporadi‑ cally, and no further official statistics have been made available (Takahashi 2015, p. 254). Many nuns are unable to read or write, and few have opportunities for formal education in Pali or Buddhist studies (Sokroeun 2006, p. 121). Most are over 50 years of age and are ex‑ pected to spend considerable time engaged in acts of service for the monasteries where they live, including cooking for the monastic community (Takahashi 2015, pp. 242–45). In this sense, their voluntary labor, remunerated more in merit than in money, echoes a centuries‑long tradition of temple servants in Cambodia. Work performed by heredi‑ tary slaves and bonded servants through the middle of the nineteenth century (Antelme 2012) is now largely performed by nuns and temple boys (*kme* . *n vatt*). A limited number of temples around the country have formal study and practice programs for *t* ˙ *ūn jī*; dozens or even more than a hundred nuns may live together permanently in such locations, their numbers swelling during the annual three‑month rains retreat. A handful of nuns have become prominent for their prowess in teaching the Dharma or meditation (Kent 2011, pp. 203–5).

The outward success of a few of the most prominent nuns in Cambodia, including the two I focus on in this article, stands in sharp relief to the gender inequities faced by Khmer Buddhist women of all stripes. Additionally, even the most prominent nuns are confronted with a range of challenges that male monastics never have to face. The subject of my first case study, Chea Silieng, was accused of impersonating a *bhikkhunī* and forced out of her own monastery. As Heng Kosorl, the subject of my second case study, notes, being a nun in Cambodian means having one's very existence constantly challenged:

In our country, is Buddhism the religion of the state, or is it the religion of men? If you're a man, no matter rich or poor, good or bad, wherever you're from, if you ordain, study, and practice, whether as a lay priest (*ācāry*), white‑clad renunciate (*tā jī*), *bhikkhu*, or *sāman* ˙ *era*, everybody will praise you with "Excellent, excellent! (*sādhu sādhu*)." But if you're a woman, they'll only ask you, "Why?"

I began to be afraid of this question. Whenever I went out I'd have to answer it. Even if I just stayed in my room I'd get this question. Imagine if you had to answer the same question two or three times a day for decade, how would you feel?! I'm fed up [mask emoji] and now I'm no longer just afraid of people asking this question but the whole of Facebook! [smiling emoji] No matter what, I'm stressed out to no end on account of this question from those who wonder [smiling emoji]. (Heng Kosorl 2022b, my translation)

For both nuns, the challenges they face as female ascetics in Cambodian society in‑ tersect in various ways with the cultural expectations around mothers, daughters, and the bonds of familial gratitude. Before returning to Silieng and Kosorl's distinct perspectives, in the section that follows I turn to the articulation of filial debts in Cambodian Buddhist lit‑ erature and ritual performance, with an eye to how they impact social expectations placed on Khmer nuns.

#### **3. Filial Debts: Gratitude to Parents as a Gendered Construct**

Gratitude to parents is a dominant Buddhist teaching across Southeast Asia, one that is constantly invoked as the primary motivation for religious acts of giving, ordination, and the dedication of merit (Kourilsky 2008, 2015, 2022). In Cambodia in particular, books on filial gratitude have proliferated over the past twenty years. Acknowledging moral debts to parents remains a prime subject for Buddhist poetry and sermons. Though fil‑ ial piety is an important theme in a few early Buddhist texts, including several suttas in the Pali Tipit ˙ aka, the most important Pali source on this theme in Southeast Asia is the *mātāpitu‑upat* ˙ *t* ˙ *hānakathā*, a long chapter from Sirima ˙ngala's sixteenth‑century commentary on the *Ma* . *<sup>n</sup>gala‑sutta*, the *Ma* . *ngalatthadīpanī* (Kourilsky 2022, p. 159). Repaying debts to parents is also an important theme in the bilingual Pali‑vernacular sermon texts composed between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries in Cambodia, Laos, and Thailand. Some of these texts, such as *Mātugun* ˙ *sūtr*, emphasize the Buddha's debts to his mother and his repayment of these debts through preaching the Abhidhamma (Walker 2020, pp. 84–85; Kourilsky 2022, p. 164). Others, such as *Supin kumār*, weave a narrative on the importance of ordination for repaying one's mother (Walker 2018a, pp. 1531–77). The traditional med‑ itation texts of the region, largely composed between the seventeenth and nineteenth cen‑ turies, detail the ways that certain body‑centered contemplative practices can be used to address filial debts to both mothers and fathers (Kourilsky 2015, pp. 579–87; 2022, pp. 165– 66; Walker 2022, pp. 67–70).

In Cambodia, the emergence of modern works on filial piety began in the mid‑twentieth century with influential books by leading monks such as P"ā ˙n Khāt"s *Jīvitm"ae*("A Mother's Life", P"ā ˙n Khāt' 1964) and Su˙n Ŝīv's *Brah* ˙ *ras'* ("Living Deities", Su˙n Ŝīv n.d.). These works provide a modernist take on canonical and commentarial approaches to filial piety, under‑ scoring the efforts undertaken by parents not only in caring for young children but also in preparing them for the new economic order of postcolonial Cambodia. Present‑day works in this genre by leading writers such as Buth Savong's *Bāky beca(n) m"*è *uv* ("Parental Dicta", Buth Savong 2005) and Chhim Bunchha's *Ṭ*i ˙ . *n gun* ˙ *tap gun* ˙ *ni* . *n niyaman*ă*y kam* ˙ *n* ˙ *āby* ("Know‑ ing and Repaying Moral Debts, Expressed in Verse", Chhim Bunchha 2009) tend to high‑ light the emotional dimensions of parental debts. This affective emphasis is developed with particular precision through sung poems, known as *smūtr* or Dharma songs (*dhaŕm*

*pad*), that are recited for funerals, memorial rites, and other Buddhist ceremonies (Walker 2018b, pp. 290–91).

The song *khamā dos aubuk mtāy* ("Asking for Parents' Forgiveness") is typical of this genre:

I now ask your forgiveness for all I have done to you and for all my careless words: O mother, please forgive me! My debt to you is immense. I offer my body and speech and bow in respect to you: O mother, please forgive me! I prostrate myself to you hands raised in prayer, head lowered to touch your feet, O mother: Please release me from my faults! When I was inside your womb I put you through constant pain, whether you walked, stood, or sat, and made you eat simple food. Salty, spicy, hot, or cold: these you eschewed for my sake. You suppressed your desires to protect me in your womb. For nearly ten months you toiled, the pain spreading through your body, without a moment's relief to bring you joy, ease, or peace. I offer you the merit that may arise from this gift of the Teaching, so lucid. Receive it, mother, and rejoice! I dedicate this merit to my mother and father. May the three treasures be theirs and may they be free from pain. (Walker 2022, pp. 83–84)

This poem makes several key elements of Cambodian Dharma songs on filial debts clear: First, the mother's role is paramount, even though both mother and father are men‑ tioned. The difficulties undertaken in parenting are mapped entirely onto the mother. Sec‑ ond, the language throughout is framed in terms of humble supplication, establishing a strict hierarchy between child and parent. The terms adopted to address and venerate parents in these texts echo those used with monks and buddha images. Third, the child's existence implies an automatic debt to their parents, one that requires an act of ritual re‑ pentance. Finally, the ultimate repayment of a filial debt comes through the dedication of merit generated by Buddhist rituals.

These songs form the basis for a new kind of Buddhist sermon in Cambodia, delivered by one or several monks to a group of schoolchildren or novices to spark a deep emotional sense of filial debt and gratitude to parents. In video form, these sermons have become of a fixture of Buddhist social media in Cambodia over the past decade, including those by Sam ˙ Sār"ūn (Hak Sienghai 2016) and Ṭok Ṭum ˙ (Layhong Sabay 2019). The climax of these rituals involves panning shots that show row after row of kids in meditative posture, rocking back and forth and bawling. Close‑up shots on particularly tear‑stricken faces reinforce the idealized response to such sermons and the songs that anchor them.

These public performances of filial debt have a sharply gendered dimension, in that it is always male monks who are preaching a message of maternal gratitude. The audience receiving the message of filial piety may be adults or children of any gender, and in the contemporary context the imperative to ordain, applicable only to boys, has been broad‑ ened to the imperative to be a "grateful child" (*kūn kataññū*), who is a model student and productive citizen, industrious to a fault and obedient to parents, teachers, and the state (Dibb Sau 2009).

This contemporary understanding of the dutiful child and citizen has been gradually replacing an older model that emphasizes markedly different gender roles for men and women. Didactic codes (*cpāp'*) from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries highlight the importance of women submitting to their husbands to maintain marital and social har‑ mony (Jacobsen 2008, pp. 119–23). Such didactic codes rarely mention the role of daugh‑ ters vis à vis their parents. An important exception is M"i ˙ − n M"ai's *Cpāp' Srī* ("Code for Girls"), penned in the late eighteenth or early nineteenth centuries (Pou 1988, II, pp. 407–8). This text was studied by generations of Khmer elites until the twentieth century, when it reached a wider readership as part of the public‑school curriculum. In one influential for‑ mulation, M"ai notes that a young woman's duties include caring for her mother, father, and husband, setting up each as one of "Three Hearths":

Be vigilant, daughter. Keep the Three Hearths so they endure.

They'll maintain your virtue and lift your life to lofty ranks.

They'll bring you great renown, abundant wealth, and all things fine.

The first two hearths are called the legacies of your parents.

Follow the proper path of deference to your guardians.

Strive hard to care for them; give them the food you cherish most,

rather than hoarding it all for yourself—serve them daily.

Endure all their advice, run their errands, or they'll feel hurt.

"Third's the lord of the home, your own husband, to love for good.

Respect him without fail—don't make him feel offended.

Revere him, for you're just a girl; don't claim you're his equal. (Walker 2021, p. 48)

In addition to its explicit patriarchal demands for wives to submit to their husbands, the passage is notable for highlighting the importance of caring for one's parents. No such parallel duties for men appear in M"ai's "Code for Boys" (*cpāp' prus*) or in related didactic literature of the period (Buddhist Institute 1974, pp. 33–43). Daughters were given the special task of caring for their parents, particularly in old age. This arrangement reflects the matrilocal practices of Khmer society since the first millennium of the Common Era, in which the groom would traditionally come live with his bride's family after marriage (Jacobsen 2008, p. 33). It also ties back to the broader value of filial responsibility advocated by the Buddhist songs and sermons discussed above. Though not a homily or a typical religious poem, M"ai's "Code for Girls" is set within an explicitly Buddhist framework. Daughters who succeed in caring for their parents and submitting to their husbands will reap certain karmic benefits:

Thus goes the Code for Girls, for you, my dear, to learn and guard.

Hold it fast in your mind so that you'll win the joy you seek,

both in this human world and for lives to come in other realms. Should you vow to become the mother of a future Buddha your prayers will be fulfilled. You'll gain a trove of vast riches and the highest renown for many lives, just as you wish. (Walker 2021, p. 52)

Modern poems on gratitude to parents, including U Cu ˆ¯ ˙n's famous *Cpāp' gorab mātāpitā* ("Code for Honoring Parents"), first published in the 1950s and an inspiration for hundreds of similar compositions since, prize the importance of looking after parents, particularly though acts of bodily care such as bathing or providing food (U Cu ˆ¯ ˙n 1967; Chhim Bunchha 2009, p. 117). These acts, implicitly feminized within a Khmer cultural sphere, are thus re‑ cast as special duties of grateful Buddhist daughters. To be a good daughter, in this emerg‑ ing modern conception, means to be an active economic contributor to family and country, a diligent caretaker of one's parents, and a caring mother of one's own children. This last point is almost never spelled out explicitly, but the implicit expectation is that marriage will naturally produce offspring, and that children are necessary to secure caregivers for oneself in old age.

This constellation of religio‑cultural forces puts would‑be nuns in a difficult position. On the one hand, only ordination and other acts of Buddhist asceticism can truly help and transform one's parents, but this is only ever discussed as a male duty, or more specifically a young male duty, never a female one. On the other hand, daughters are expected to shoulder many of the burdens of caring for aging parents while simultaneously mothering their own children. To renounce family ties as a nun amounts to an abrogation of familial and economic duties in a way that monks are never asked to consider. Indeed, some of the most vocal opponents of *bhikkhunī* ordination among the male sangha, such as San Sochea, are staunch advocates of traditional constructs of filial piety.

Even the most logical natural allies of *upāsikā*‑status nuns, namely eight‑ or ten‑precept white‑clad "lay monks" known as *tā jī*, have not tried to forge a path out of the thicket of conflicting demands that nuns and would‑be nuns find themselves in. A distinctive feature of Khmer Buddhism in the early twenty‑first century is the prominence of *upāsaka*‑status celibate teachers, rather than *bhikkhu* or *sāman* ˙ *era*, on the popular Buddhist sermon circuit. By far the most influential Buddhist preacher in Cambodia today is a *tā jī* named Buth Savong, along with his younger protégé Kèv Vimutti (Marston 2015, pp. 267–69, 274n14). Adored by Cambodians from across the social hierarchy, their books and public teachings hardly ever speak of *t* ˙ *ūn jī*, even in writings explicitly about Buddhist women (Buth Savong 2008). In public writings and sermons, they do not treat them as a separate category from other *upāsikā*. Additionally, like most of their fully ordained brethren, they never advo‑ cate for the possibility of female higher ordination. Savong and Vimutti are able to be such effective teachers in part because they are not monks and not beholden to the sangha hi‑ erarchy. The female voices they champion are those of the five‑precept *upāsikā*, especially a growing group of wealthy lay women who are recognized as *mahā‑upāsikā* or "great lay‑ women" through their financial contributions and occasionally for their skill in Dharma teaching. Celibate *upāsikā* with shaved heads rarely figure into this elite group. Excluded from both lay and monastic channels of power and recognition, they must find other av‑ enues to pursue their religious aspirations and resolve the exhortations around debt and gratitude that are at cross‑purposes with renunciant life.

#### **4. Chea Silieng: Renouncing Family Ties**

I now turn to case studies of two monastic *t* ˙ *ūn jī* who have taken different approaches to resolving this conundrum—common to all Buddhist nuns in Khmer society—of com‑ peting cultural narratives around renunciation and filial debts. One such approach is to focus on the freedom to be gained in renouncing family ties altogether. This path is per‑ haps most prominently embodied by a seventy‑year‑old nun with the birth name of Chea Silieng. After getting married and giving birth to three children, Silieng received her hus‑ band's permission to ordain at age thirty. Silieng studied meditation at a variety of temples

and sacred sites throughout Cambodia before eventually settling on Neang Lem Cave in Battambang province, where she has spent the past ten years. This cave is named for a celebrated female ascetic of the pre‑Khmer Rouge period, Neang Lem, who practiced for many years on the famous mountain. When she was cremated against her will during the Khmer Rouge era, local people believed that her powerful spirit came to inhabit the cave. Silieng eventually became known as *lok yāy nā* . *n lem*, meaning "Venerable Grandmother of Neang Lem Cave" (Maza and Meta 2017; Mao Voleak 2019).

As a sought‑after meditation teacher, Silieng has attracted a plethora of students, in‑ cluding monks, nuns, and ordinary laypeople of all genders, to the series of caverns where she lives. In 2019, she was interviewed by Mao Voleak for *Strī knu* . *n brah* ˙ *buddhasāsanā*, or "Women in Buddhism", a popular social media channel promoting Cambodian Buddhist teachings from female perspectives, including the voices of Khmer laywomen, *t* ˙ *ūn jī*, and the emerging *bhikkhunī* and *sāman* ˙ *erī* communities (Mao Voleak 2022). In narrating her journey of becoming a nun, Silieng describes the sensation of release and freedom she felt during a family dinner, when her husband informed their three children that their mother was going to take the precepts and live in a Buddhist temple. The term Silieng used to describe her experience of this moment is *ruoc khluon*, literally "freed oneself." *Ruoc khluon* typically refers to the experience of being spared from harm or danger. In this case, Silieng adopts it to describe her intense feelings of safety and relief in being freed from familial bonds. She then describes bowing down in thanks to her husband for granting his per‑ mission. In narrating this pivotal moment in her life, Silieng simultaneously displays her fealty to traditional gender hierarchies and expresses relief in finally finding freedom from such patriarchal structures.

In subsequent discussions with Mao Voleak, Silieng's husband never surfaces again, though her three children come up occasionally. The progress of letting go of being preoc‑ cupied with her children's welfare took longer, but eventually Silieng came to realize that she had fulfilled her obligations to her children by giving birth to them, and that she was fully released from this karmic bind. In her video interview with Voleak, Silieng boldly articulates the terms and consequences of her renunciation:

I have offered my life, offered my lovely flesh and blood, to the holy religion, until the day I die. I will not turn back, I will not retreat. I do not think about my children's problems anymore. Even when they face difficulties, such as hunger or other hardships, I always tell them in their moments of pain to have forbearance. "You have merit, dear child. Think of your mother's merit, and that will help you find happiness." That's what I say if they face troubles and come complaining to me. (Mao Voleak 2019, 14′29′′–14′55′′, my translation)

In Silieng's interview and other public teachings, she never discusses the debts of children with regard to their parents. Apart from a brief reference to settling her karmic debt to her children by bringing them into the world, the narrative she weaves is one of continuous release and moving toward her stated goal of nibbāna. In later remarks, she emphasizes her gratitude to the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha, rather than lingering on the gendered structures of debt and gratitude between parents and children.

Chea Silieng is not without controversy in Cambodia. At various times in her life as a nun, she has worn yellow or purple robes in addition to the customary white robes. These sartorial choices have raised the curiosity and ire of those within and beyond her local community. In the late 2010s, Silieng's religious hermitage, known in Khmer as an *āsram* (from Sanskrit *āśrama*), began an official process to become a monastery or *vatt ārām*. The latter status entails a more official status as well as greater subservience to the ecclesiasti‑ cal system of governance, in which abbots are subject to supervision by the head monks of districts (*anugan* ˙ ), provinces (*me gan* ˙ ), and ultimately the supreme patriarch (*sa* . *ngharāj*) of each sect (Buddhist Institute 1994). While nuns can hold considerable autonomy, includ‑ ing leadership roles, in hermitages, monasteries of the majority Mahānikāya sect must be led by an abbot who becomes part of the national sangha hierarchy. Nuns, in essence, can‑ not serve as abbesses or leaders of Mahānikāya monasteries in Cambodia. While Silieng

had drawn many monks as her students, in the new social organization of the monastery she would no longer have formal or financial control, and it appears that a power strug‑ gle ensued, breaking into national news in late 2021 (Chhom Pisamay 2021). Some monks claimed that Silieng, with her occasional yellow robes, was a fake *bhikkhunī* who stole do‑ nations that rightly belonged to the resident monks.

While the details of the current situation are not yet clear, Silieng's fate is similar to many female renunciants across the Theravada world, who are tolerated or even celebrated until they become a perceived threat to male monastic power and financial privilege. Even though women are expected to manage finances with Khmer families, the idea of a nun do‑ ing so for a monastery appears to have made her a target, with debates flaring on YouTube and Facebook among her supporters and detractors. By moving beyond the bonds of fam‑ ily into a position of spiritual authority, Silieng was placed in a vulnerable position as the leader of an autonomous hermitage that was rapidly transitioning into a state‑supervised monastery. Senior nuns in similar positions of power are the subject of intense scrutiny in Cambodia, and few have survived with their reputations unscathed.

Moving beyond family ties and aspiring to roles of religious leadership can still prove dangerous for nuns in contemporary Cambodian society, as Silieng's uncertain future at‑ tests. The gender asymmetry that drives Khmer logics of filiality and renunciation, as explored in the previous section, remains an active force with which Silieng and other fe‑ male Buddhist leaders must contend. Renouncing the bonds and protection of husbands and other men may offer the clearest path to developing female spiritual authority and fulfilling Buddhist ideals of liberation for women, yet the nuns who choose this route in Cambodia often face considerable difficulties.

#### **5. Heng Kosorl: Rebinding Filial Gratitude**

Not all Khmer nuns have made the same choices or faced the same challenges as Chea Silieng. Heng Kosorl is a nun in her late twenties who has so far managed to successfully bridge several different Buddhist worlds, including that of her native Cambodia; of Sri Lanka, where she is finishing her Buddhist studies degree in Columbo; and of the English‑ centered community of international *bhikkhunī* and *sāman* ˙ *era*. Young, social media–savvy, and hailing from a prominent Buddhist family, Kosorl has carved out a unique place for herself in the Khmer religious landscape.

By positioning herself as a student rather than a teacher, Kosorl's frequent posts are greeted with welcome adoration by her thousands of fans on Facebook (Heng Kosorl 2022a). Her followers regularly comment on her beauty, as they make clear that, despite her shaved head and simple robes, she is still considered exceptionally attractive by Cambodian neti‑ zens. Photos of other young nuns from across the Buddhist world are a recurring element on her Facebook page, situating Kosorl within an emergent generation of social‑media savvy nuns throughout Asia. In many of her posts, she quotes extensively from male lay teachers, including Buth Savong and his most favored poet, Kuy Sothun, as well as popular monks. Since these teachers never mention nuns directly, and take a generally conserva‑ tive position on gender roles, the Dharma messages she shares do not generally advocate for improved social conditions or educational opportunities for nuns.

When writing directly to her followers, however, she does speak more candidly about the ideals of female renunciant life as well as the challenges and possibilities inherent in women's lives as Buddhists. Her words are gentle and self‑effacing, though with a strong emphasis on the beauty and ease of renunciation. In a widely shared Khmer‑language post, she alludes to her popularity in raising the profile of nuns and cautions against those who seek to idolize her:

Ordaining as a nun (*t* ˙ *ūn jī*) isn't a game of sports or the mind. So don't ordain just because you like me, don't ordain just because you like those who like me, don't ordain if you think that renunciants have it easy, don't ordain because you think that ordaining as a nun will make you into someone worthy of veneration. . . Wearing white is only an external adornment; it doesn't make your mind any more pure. Shaving your head won't mark the end of your suffering. . . . Those who have read up to this point will know that I'm no one special. I'm just normal like all the rest, except that I like some unusual things, like shaving my head because I am too lazy to comb my hair, hehe. (Heng Kosorl 2021, my translation)

These and other posts position Kosorl as a bridge between nuns and a broader Khmer public, who are often skeptical of female renunciants. She appears to embrace this role quite eagerly, as few other nuns have garnered such a wide following on Facebook, which is by far the more important social media platform in Cambodia. As discussed earlier in this article, however, she is acutely aware of the special challenges faced by nuns and a confident critic of the patriarchal structures of Khmer Buddhist society.

In her role a young nun in the Cambodian context, Kosorl's position stands out in multiple respects. First, she is from a well‑regarded Buddhist family, part of a multigener‑ ational blood lineage of female renunciants. Her maternal grandmother is an eight‑precept nun, her mother leads a ten‑precept *t* ˙ *ūn jī* community in Battambang, and a close friend was recently elevated to the status of *mahā‑upāsikā*, with the formal title of *gandhameghāde‑ vānuraks mahā‑upāsikā buddhasāsanūpatthambhak* ("the patron of the Buddhist religion, the great laywoman, protected by the deities of the fragrant clouds") presented to her by Samdech Bour Kry, Supreme Patriarch of the Dhammayuttikanikāya sect in Cambodia (Heng Kosorl 2022a). In addition, she is pursuing a path of Buddhist education rarely un‑ dertaken by Buddhist nuns in Cambodia. After her mother ordained when Kosorl was nine, she joined her in the monastery at age thirteen, and ordained as a nun once she com‑ pleted high school. Nearly a decade later, she is finishing her degree in Pali and Bud‑ dhist Studies at the University of Kelaniya in Sri Lanka. Lastly, she often uses the term *sīlavatī* (Pali for "female precept‑holder") along with *t* ˙ *ūn jī*. Part of this is practical; as a young woman, it is confusing to be addressed as "grandmother renunciant", the literal sense of *t* ˙ *ūn jī*. She sometimes goes by "little grandmother renunciant" (*t* ˙ *ūn jī tūc*), and others will address her in Facebook comments as "little sister, grandmother renunciant" (*t* ˙ *ūn jī ūn*)—terms that highlight her unusual position as a young nun—but on her social media platform she uses the formal title *sīlavatī*. This connects her to a broader commu‑ nity of Theravada nuns that use this term, both in Sri Lanka and elsewhere in mainland Southeast Asia.

The most striking feature of Kosorl's social media presence is her constant emphasis on gratitude to parents and grandparents. A recurring theme in the poems and other pas‑ sages she quotes from Buth Savong and Kuy Sothun is the urgency of fulfilling the duties of filial piety. These quotes often accompany pictures in which Kosorl is conducting memo‑ rial rites on behalf of her deceased father, caring for her injured maternal grandmother, bathing her paternal grandmother, or bowing down in respect to her white‑clad mother. These very public presentations of how to fulfill debts to ancestors make familial bonds front and center in a nun's life. In sharp contrast to Chea Silieng's journey of cutting off the shackles of family life and motherhood, Kosorl's social media presentation of her life as a nun means honoring and cementing these very bonds through acts of care and Buddhist practice.

In a recent Facebook post, dated 3 August 2022, Kosorl offers a window into the com‑ plex contradictions of her life as a nun and daughter. Sharing an explicit video that shows both the anatomical difficulties as well as the emotional peaks and troughs of vaginal child‑ birth for women, Kosorl adds the following comment:

Mothers are heroines, mothers are marvels, mothers are truly tremendous. I can never be as tremendous as you all mothers [kissing emoji] since I've asked to be a child forever and will continue to be a *t* ˙ *ūn jī* like this onward into the future [smiling emoji]. (Heng Kosorl 2022c, my translation)

Kosorl's equation of nunhood with being permanently in the state of a child, never reaching the state of a mother, captures some of the many layers present in her simul‑ taneous advocacy of female renunciation and gratitude to mothers. The ideal of female renunciation, celebrated as the peak of Buddhist life for women, appears to conflict with

the competing ideal of motherhood. Kosorl's delicate balance of advocacy for nuns and respect for the Buddhist establishment is anchored by her chosen role as student and child. As a daughter and devotee of her mother and her elder nuns, Kosorl's constant expression of filial gratitude reinforces her place within a blood family and a lineage of renunciants. At the same time, the celibate life of a nun precludes Kosorl and other childless *t* ˙ *ūn jī* from becoming those whom she hails as "heroines" (*vīranārī*) and "marvels" (*ascāry*) by dint of the trials of pregnancy and parturition.

#### **6. Conclusions**

Multiple competing narratives around the ideals of renunciation, familial gratitude, and motherhood impinge on the lives of Khmer nuns today. The range in nuns' approaches to filial debts, as embodied by the examples of Silieng and Kosorl, can be explained through a multiplicity of factors. Some are, of course, quite personal—many Cambodians find teachings on filial piety to be meaningful and comforting, due to the close, emotionally warm relationships they enjoy with their parents and grandparents. Yet, other Cambodi‑ ans may find cultural norms around filial gratitude to be confusing and even distressing. Other factors are social in nature. Marks of privilege in Cambodia such as high social class, deep social networks, fair complexion, and even conventional beauty can be pow‑ erful forces in shaping the experiences and beliefs of individual nuns; these factors alone explain much of the differing trajectories of Silieng and Kosorl. Another social factor is age. While both nuns ordained relatively young, they hail from divergent generations. Chea Silieng is a Khmer Rouge survivor and grew up in a radically different Cambodia than Heng Kosorl, who was born in the late 1990s. Both women attract followers across the age spectrum, but Kosorl much more effectively engages the young, urban, tech‑savvy crowd that dominates social media.

A third set of factors connect to the religious teachers venerated by individual nuns. Chea Silieng is intimately tied to the powerful spirit of the pre‑war nun who once inhabited the same cave. Along with her singular focus on meditation, this places her in a lineage of independent, reclusive nuns in Cambodia who have defied gender and social norms, often at considerable risk. Heng Kosorl draws from four separate groups of teachers: one, her fellow nuns in Cambodia, including her own relatives; two, her monastic teachers and professors in Sri Lanka; three, her fellow renunciants in the international community of *bhikkhunī* and *sāman* ˙ *erī*; and four, the Khmer male lay and monastic teachers whose words on filial debts she regularly invokes. Both her family and the male teachers she quotes orient her practice toward the family bonds that have long shaped Khmer Buddhist practice, while her international experience confers alternative modes of authority. These multiple spheres of belonging help mitigate the fundamental risk of being a prominent nun in Cambodia.

Chea Silieng and Heng Kosorl may also point toward a different future for Khmer nuns that many thought possible in the late 1990s and early 2000s. The official silence on nuns may be thawing. The increasing recognition of nuns by the government and the media, including *bhikkhunī* and *sāman* ˙ *erī* in the Cambodian Dhammayuttikanikāya sect as well as the growing prominence of highly skilled laywoman teachers of Buddhist studies, Pali, and meditation, are gradually making more space for women leaders in Cambodian Buddhism. The complex knot presented by Khmer notions of familial debts remains at the center of how *t* ˙ *ūn jī* and other nuns articulate their religious vocation and the arcs of their spiritual lives. Some, such as Chea Silieng, are clear that being a nun requires severing these ties for the sake of freedom. Others, such as Heng Kosorl, make honoring such bonds a key part of their Buddhist practice. Either way, the gendered intersection of care, debt, and gratitude remains a central site of negotiation for female ascetics in Cambodia.

**Funding:** This research received no external funding.

**Data Availability Statement:** Not applicable.

**Conflicts of Interest:** The author declares no conflict of interest.

#### **References**


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## *Article* **Gender Conflicts in Contemporary Korean Buddhism †**

**Eun-su Cho**

Department of Philosophy, Seoul National University, Seoul 08826, Republic of Korea; escho@snu.ac.kr

† This paper was presented at the conference entitled "Gender Asymmetry in the Different Buddhist Traditions Through the Prism of Nuns' Ordination and Education" organized by Nicola Schneider and Ester Bianchi at the University of Perugia, Italy, and sponsored by the Chiang Ching-kuo Foundation on 17 May 2022. I thank the participants for their encouragement and Nicola in particular for her useful comments. I would also like to thank Ven. Karma Lekshe Tsomo for her scholarly advice and assistance, and Yeonwoo Joh for editing this manuscript. Lastly, I would like to express my gratitude to the two anonymous reviewers for their helpful suggestions and comments in improving this article.

**Abstract:** Scholars have observed that Korean Buddhist nuns have a relatively high social status compared to nuns of other Asian countries, much like their sisters in Taiwan. It is a source of great pride for many Korean *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s that their community operates with a high degree of autonomy, bringing them to an almost equal standing with their male counterparts. However, this claim of equal status is challenged once the nuns step outside their own communities and into the hierarchical system of the Order, an institution dominated by male monastics. This paper aims to report on the gender disparity between male monastics and Buddhist women, both nuns and laywomen alike. I will first explore Korean Buddhist nuns' experiences of gender discrimination imposed by the current institutional and cultural practices of the Buddhist Order, and their battles to challenge the legitimacy of this power structure. Next, I will introduce various episodes, including the Buddhist administration's conflict with progressive women's groups, to showcase the gender dynamics and current status of women in Korean Buddhism. Ultimately, my argument is that the conservatism and misogynism of traditional religion continue to influence Korean Buddhism today, despite societal efforts to heighten gender awareness and sensitivity.

**Keywords:** gender; Korean Buddhism; monastic order; constitution; *bhiks.un. ¯ı*; lay women

#### **1. Introduction**

This paper aims to report on the gender disparity of Korean Buddhist women and *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s, with the purpose of exploring future directions by specifying present observable behavior rather than fixating on theory. Up to this point, academic studies on Buddhist women in Korea can be broadly divided into two categories. The first is historical studies. Buddhism has maintained its status as a traditional religion in Korean society for a very long time. Scholars place the establishment of a *bhiks.un. ¯ı* order in Korea around the 4th and 5th centuries, right about the time Buddhism was first transmitted from mainland China. The first Korean *bhiks.un. ¯ı* to appear on record is Lady Sa of Silla. Records also show that a group of monks, including female monastics from Baekje, were dispatched to Japan in the 6th century, playing a major role in spreading Buddhism to Japan. Furthermore, there are numerous mentions of Buddhist women in the *Samguk Yusa* [Memorablilia of the Three Kingdoms], a collection of historical records compiled in 1281. All of these resources point to the fact that the virtuous practice and endeavors of many outstanding *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s and Buddhist women helped maintain the Buddhist tradition throughout Korean history, particularly during the harsh times of the Joseon Dynasty (1392–1910)<sup>1</sup> up to the present day.

The second (and much more minor) strand of study is critical analysis of contemporary Korean Buddhism from the perspective of gender inequality by means of a women's studies or feminist approach. These works mainly interpret the indicators related to gender

**Citation:** Cho, Eun-su. 2023. Gender Conflicts in Contemporary Korean Buddhism. *Religions* 14: 242. https://doi.org/10.3390/ rel14020242

Academic Editor: Nicola Schneider

Received: 2 January 2023 Revised: 6 February 2023 Accepted: 8 February 2023 Published: 13 February 2023

**Copyright:** © 2023 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (https:// creativecommons.org/licenses/by/ 4.0/).

sensitivity obtained through socio-scientific methodologies or feminist perspectives. By incorporating both of these viewpoints, this paper will attempt to analyze some modern incidents related to *bhiks.un. ¯ı* orders from a gender perspective. I will divide these incidents based on two points of scrutiny, the first being the issue between male and female monastics, and the second being the relationship between male monastics and female laypeople. My stance is ultimately to seek a progressive future based firmly on the spirit of fond support.

#### **2. Social and Internal Changes in the Modern Period**

The status of Buddhism as a traditional religion has undergone many changes in the modern era, both institutionally and culturally. Recent history has turned out to be more tense and dramatic than ever before. It is first and foremost necessary to understand the broader context of the modern history of Korea. The end of the Pacific War and the subsequent retreat of Japanese colonial powers were soon followed by U.S. occupation of South Korea, which was brief, but left a deep and lasting impact on Korea, evident in the westernization of Korean society and its religions. A few years later, the Korean War of 1950 solidified the division between the North and South. The two remain separated to this day, making Korea the last divided country on the planet. Despite this division, South Korea was able to achieve high economic growth and now ranks among the top economic powers in the world. Its rapid industrial growth, also referred to as the 'Miracle of the Han River,' resulted in a remarkably improved economic situation in the 1970s. The religious community also grew along with the increasingly prosperous social foundation. The previously under-resourced *bhiks.un. ¯ı* community gained new vitality in this process, resulting in a dramatic improvement in its material well-being. Individual *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s were able to engage in activities such as receiving higher education and studying abroad, which was previously unimaginable. Their social visibility increased accordingly, with *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s now earning doctorates and professorships and establishing mega temples.

Additionally, in terms of demographics, *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s came to account for almost half of the entire monastic population. Of the 15,000 registered monastics of the Jogye Order, the number of *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s peaked at 7000 (and is currently in decline as of 2023). Above all, in the three areas of renunciation, education, and ordination, *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s adhere to the same regulations as *bhiks.u*s under the management of the Jogye Order (the celibate order), a major Buddhist order to which 90% of Korean monasteries belong. *Bhiks.un. ¯ı*s receive postulant education for about six months these days before becoming *´srama ¯ n. er¯ı*s (novice nuns). After four more years of mandatory education, they receive ordination and become full-fledged *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s. Since the groundbreaking dual ordination ceremony at Beomeo-sa temple in 1982,<sup>2</sup> *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s have been ordained according to the *bhiks.un. ¯ı* dual ordination procedure of the Single Ordination Platform ceremony conducted by the Jogye Order. After becoming a *bhiks.un. ¯ı*, one can become the leader of a meditation hall or go on to perform social services by being involved in temple operations or missionary work, depending on one's inclination.<sup>3</sup> It is therefore evident that there is an established structure of systematic education and training for *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s formally managed by the Order.

However, although *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s have formed their own independent community of sorts, and can choose to follow their own paths of either education, practice, or missionary work, when joint cooperation between *bhiks.u*s and *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s is necessary, *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s often find themselves alienated from the core power and organization of the Jogye Order. Contrary to internal claims and external expectations that Buddhism should actively respond and change to adapt to modern society, the status and awareness of gender equality within the Buddhist community are at a standstill. The reality of this uneven, dormant imbalance within the Order—in which renunciant women not only cannot realize their potential but also must endure constantly being checked and censored—ultimately reduces the vitality of the entire Korean Buddhist community. The path to true religious harmony and coexistence is becoming increasingly dark amid continuous conflict and tension between the sexes.

In this paper, I will first give a brief overview of the history of the *bhiks.un. ¯ı* order in Korea, and then introduce a couple of episodes that demonstrate current gender conflicts. By analyzing the positions of each party, that is, *bhiks.u*s and *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s, as well as their responses to each case, this study aims to shed light on how the gender hierarchy of the modern Korean Buddhist community operates.<sup>4</sup>

#### **3. First Administrative Position Given to a Nun in 2003**

With an increase in the social visibility of nuns along with external expectations and pressures calling for the social participation of women, a nun was appointed as the first Director of Cultural Affairs of the Jogye Order, Korea's largest Buddhist denomination. A headline from a news article published on 5 March 2003 reads "Nun Appointed as Minister for the First Time in the History of the Jogye Order". The Buddhist Journalist Association responded to this announcement as follows:

"Ven. Beopjang's appointment of Venerable Takyeon as the Director of Cultural Affairs is a demonstration of his commitment expressed at the '31st Presidential Debate of the Jogye Order,' co-hosted by the Korean Buddhist Journalist Association and the Central Lay Buddhist Association of the Jogye Order on February 14, [2003]. This [choice] to honor his pledge to 'implement policies to raise the status of *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s and appoint nuns to the Department of Cultural Affairs so that they are not left out of administrative affairs' also reflects his resolution for reform. In a country where more than half of all Buddhists are women, and women are becoming more active in all sectors of society, the appointment of a *bhiks.un. ¯ı* to an administrative position is a natural decision in keeping up with the times, and evident of the changes in the Jogye Order, the foremost order of Korean Buddhism".<sup>5</sup>

However, the leading newspaper, *JoongAng Daily,* was less optimistic and expressed their doubts early on. According to them, "The Director of Cultural Affairs is virtually the fourth-highest position in the administrative rank of the Jogye Order. Perhaps for this reason, there were many *bhiks.u*s who objected to Ven. Takyeon's appointment as the Director of Cultural Affairs. In the end, she did not attend her appointment ceremony scheduled for 9 a.m. on March 5, and received her letter of appointment separately around 11:30 am that day. This was an action mindful of such attitudes [toward her appointment]".<sup>6</sup> This ambiguity surrounding Venerable Takyeon's appointment indicates that there was resistance from within, and it can be said that this resistance still remains today.

#### **4. The Formation of an Anti-Group against the Jogye Order and Its Subsequent Retaliation**

Since 2003, the number of nuns in administrative positions within the Jogye Order has remained unchanged, at just one. The sole difference is that *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s are now only eligible for a position in the Department of Financial Affairs and no longer in the Department of Cultural Affairs, which is higher up in the administrative hierarchy. From this, it seems safe to conclude that the concerns expressed by *JoongAng Daily* have turned out to be true.

In 2011, a coalition of anti-Jogye groups formed under the name 'The Central Council NGO Monitor Group.' It quickly became the central voice of criticism against the Jogye administration.<sup>7</sup> Laywomen's groups in particular led discussions on the Order's misogynistic culture and pointed out the bias in the Order's Constitution. The rules state that all the highest figures of authority, from the Patriarch of the Order to the Heads of Administration, Dharma Propagation, and Monastic Training, should be *bhiks.u*s (male monks) over 50 years old with at least 30 years of monastic experience. Such institutional limitations effectively bar nuns from positions of authority. However, no nuns or monks have directly addressed this issue in the past 20 years, and neither has there been a public inquiry into the matter. This blatant gender discrimination has mainly been pointed out and criticized by lay Buddhist organizations and scholars. Unfortunately, the emergence of such feminist objections has only served to intensify the defensive attitudes of the Jogye Order.

Around the time the Central Council NGO Monitor Group was formed, the Order appointed new leadership by way of indirect election through the votes of the abbots from

24 head temples. During their double term, which spanned 8 years from 2009 to 2017, this administration was in large part responsible for the huge conflict to come, based on chauvinistic male attitudes toward women and the misogynistic culture prevalent in the upper echelons of the Order. Following the end of their second term, a subsequent head was elected with the support of his predecessor, only to retire from his position soon after due to a shocking scandal. When it was leaked that he was planning a separate reform of his own, independent of the previous regime, he was quickly rumored to have sired a child from a *bhiks.un. ¯ı* in the past. Eventually, he was charged with sexual harassment and was forced to resign after less than a year.

If the resignation was purely on account of his sexual misbehavior, preventive measures should have been implemented on an institutional level. However, as this accusation was never proven to be true, the prevailing assumption was that this attack was discreetly orchestrated by the former head, who was unsatisfied with his successor's uncooperative behavior. With the resignation of the new head, all of his supposed faults were brushed under the rug, and with them any opportunities for institutional scrutiny or reform.

From 2017 onwards, the situation quickly worsened. There were signs of oppression across various sectors. First, there was a full-scale suppression of the situation in the media. Sanctions were implemented on two progressive news agencies, and Buddhists and temples alike were made to adhere to the following five prohibitions: banning these agencies' access to temples, withholding newsworthy information from them, refraining from placing advertisements in their newspapers, restricting access to their websites, and forbidding interaction with their journalists. Thus, the war between the Jogye administration and anti-Jogye groups began in earnest. The Order's retaliation against the organized activities of the coalition and women's groups further intensified with the emergence of anti-feminist movements in Korea led by rightist groups. Women's studies scholars point out that this occurred in the mid-2010s, during which time misogynist discourse became more widespread among Korean men through online communities such as *Ilgan Best.*<sup>8</sup> Feminism was reinterpreted as a highly controversial, divisive ideology and disruptive power within political circles, social discourse, religious communities and even among families.

In 2020, something happened that sparked the incentive for change. Ven. Jeongwun, one of the members of the Central Council, wrote a newspaper column criticizing the administrative methods of the Jogye Order. The Order immediately reproached the author and her article, demanding she apologize publicly and repent on grounds of the *Vinaya* (monastic regulations). What was intended as an attempt for communication and constructive criticism was met with a vehement demand for repentance. This hostile response from high-ranking monks toward a nun who was a member of the Central Council, no less, was reminiscent of a regression back to pre-modern society. Under immense pressure, she eventually published a statement of apology in the same newspaper, but the monks did not stop here. At a subsequent Council meeting, a proposal for Ven. Jeongwun's expulsion was added to the agenda. However, the agenda ended up being postponed to the next meeting, possibly because of the attention it garnered from watchful feminists and scholars tensely awaiting the results of the proposal. Although Ven. Jeongwun's case did ultimately blow over, it triggered an openly hostile attitude toward nuns among the monks of the Jogye Council, and their meetings soon became a stage for denouncing the 'rebellious behavior' of female Council members. The undemocratic and tyrannical attitude of the current Jogye Order executives solidified Ven. Jeongwun's case as a testament to the current state of gender inequality in Korean Buddhism, and a foreshadowing of further conflicts to come.

One last incident worth mentioning is the presidential election of the Korean *Bhiks.un. ¯ı* Association held in 2019. The Korean *Bhiks.un. ¯ı* Association was established with Hyech'un Sunim as its President in 1985, who served two five-year terms from 1985 to 1995 (Cho 2014, p. 128). Although the Korean *Bhiks.un. ¯ı* Association ostensibly belongs to the Jogye Order, it is neither an internal organization or a subgroup of the Order but an arbitrary coalition of Jogye nuns. However, as nuns make up almost half the entire monastic population of Korea, many issues are often discussed within the Association before being reported to

the Jogye Order. For instance, the ten Council members assigned to represent the nuns are selected by the Association and passed on to the executive branch of the Order. It is also noteworthy that the Korean *Bhiks.un. ¯ı* Association conducts their own direct elections, whereas the administrative head of the Jogye Order and all other positions of authority are appointed through indirect elections. The Association can thus be said to constitute an autonomous body of sorts within the Jogye Order.

To return to the subject matter at hand, the presidential election of the Korean *Bhiks.un. ¯ı* Association generated an outpour of both internal and external opinions on *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s and Korean Buddhism as a whole, some critical, some expectational. The following social media post is but one example showcasing the interest of nuns regarding the election. Considering that *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s do not usually reveal their political opinions very often, this data is very valuable, and so I quote a part of it here:

"The *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s of the Jogye Order of Korean Buddhism have a long history the likes of which cannot be found in any other country of the world, and are equally as active as *bhiks.u*s in our society. There are 6000 *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s today, accounting for half the entire monastic population of the Jogye Order, and since the president of the Korean *Bhiks.un. ¯ı* Association is appointed through a direct election, our organization is more independent and autonomous than any other within the Order. This alone demonstrates the great importance of the status and role of nuns in Korean Buddhism.

However, what is the current reality of the Jogye Order? The *sam. gha* community has collapsed because of the widening wealth gap among monks, and individual competition has become commonplace. Since the Jogye Order is being run unilaterally by monks, the greatest victims of the collapse of the *sam. gha* community are the nuns. As nuns do not have even a single head temple, they are denied the right to vote or be voted for a position of authority in the Jogye Administration that is given to all head temples. Even after the appointment of the 11th president of the Korean *Bhiks.un. ¯ı* Association by means of direct election, and with the 12th presidential election fast approaching, the fact that nuns still lack autonomy, are unable to exercise their own rights, and are used in sectarian politics is something we must reflect upon deeply. [ . . . ] Determined by a majority vote, the direct election system is the essence of public decision-making. The reason disciples pin their hopes on the Association is because our president is appointed through direct elections. In a world in which laypeople and Buddhists alike leave our temples and no longer respect us, fed up with the corruption of the Order and its strife over supremacy, the Association should give proper consideration to what is best for the future of Buddhism. Now is the time for nuns to take initiative and set new coordinates for the Order".

The two main points referred to in this post are, first, according to the Constitution of the Jogye Order, the highest positions of authority are solely reserved for monks, and nuns are denied the opportunity to vote or be voted for those positions of authority; and second, back in 1964, *bhiks.un. ¯ı*s were falsely promised that they would be given one of the 25 head temples after the Buddhist Purification Movement. This so-called Purification Movement, which aimed to oust married monks from Korean monastic communities, occurred during a time in which nuns outnumbered unmarried monks, as most monks had taken spouses towards the end of the Japanese colonial period. Naturally, these nuns were able to play a big role in the movement, and were promised a head temple for their contributions. But in the end, the leaders of the movement never followed through. Today, all 25 head temples belong to monks. As the Head of Administration of the Jogye Order is appointed through an indirect election by the (male) abbots of these temples, nuns are necessarily excluded from this process by default.

Not so long ago, when Korean nuns emerged as a new research topic in Buddhist Studies, scholars considered them to be "a bastion for the future of Korean Buddhism".<sup>9</sup> Although this prediction still stands, it seems that this future is much further away than we initially anticipated. Indeed, there have been more and more concerns that not only is our progress towards the future currently slowing down, but we are in fact stuck repeating the past to the point where our once optimistic future must now be considered uncertain.

#### **5. Conflict between Monks and Laywomen Surrounding the Appointment of the President of the Buddhist Women's Development Institute in 2019**

Given the authoritarian culture of the mainstream Korean Buddhist community and the mentality of the monks as described above, it was only a matter of time before a conflict arose between monks and laywomen. At the heart of this conflict is the Bureau of Dharma Propagation (BDP), one of the two major divisions of the Jogye Order, and the Buddhist Women's Development Institute (BWDI), the only women's organization in the Order. Since its establishment 21 years ago in the year 2000, the Buddhist Women's Development Institute has grown to become a central organization representing the voices of Korean Buddhist women. It currently has close to 10,000 members and is credited with leading a variety of activities, such as academic research, education programs, environmental programs, and Dharma events. However, a big problem arose in January 2019, right before the election of the BWDI's next president.

The head of the BDP at the time was the abbot of a prominent temple in Seoul, which the presidential candidate of the BWDI frequented with her husband. When this abbot became the subject of a sex and embezzlement scandal, the candidate's spouse, a former judge and lawyer, filed a suit against him for embezzling temple funds. Although this led to the monk's resignation from his position as abbot, he still remained the head of the Bureau of Dharma Propagation. This position is the third highest position in the hierarchy of Jogye authorities, and also serves as the chief director for many lay Buddhist organizations of the Order, including the BWDI. Taking advantage of the fact that the right to convene a board meeting rests with the chief director, the monk refused to convene the board of directors to elect the next BWDI president. When the women were unable to hold a board meeting twice in a row, the board members of the BWDI agreed that it was not right for the monk to intentionally sabotage the candidate based on his personal resentment toward her spouse.

When efforts to communicate with the monk failed, the BWDI organized a full-fledged protest, putting placards outside their building and working to make their case publicly known through all possible venues. When this did not prove effective, the BWDI decided to revise their internal regulations with the help of legal experts so that their elections could be held without the head of the BDP. First of all, the president of the Buddhist Women's Development Institute was delegated to serve as the chief director of the Institute instead of the head of the BDP. They also added two clauses to their regulations, the second being particularly significant in stipulating that, in case of conflict between BWDI regulations and those of the Jogye Order, the BWDI regulations will take precedence. Additionally, citing the fact that the monk was neglecting his duties as the head of the BDP, the board members of the BWDI gathered of their own accord and proceeded to appoint a new president themselves. This decision was of course not approved by the Jogye Order, as the monks believed that giving priority to BWDI regulations over their own was a clear sign of disobedience and rebellion against them.

Because the BWDI is still under the management of the Jogye Order's Bureau of Dharma Propagation, it was obvious from the outset that the Order would not accept the newly appointed president because the elections were held in explicit defiance of their own rules. However, the BWDI had their own reasons for attempting this. During the entire ordeal, the women of the BWDI came to realize that the Bureau of Dharma Propagation was actively trying to sabotage their autonomy. It became known that the Bureau had bribed a nun, even awarding her with a certificate of appointment as the interim director of the BWDI. The Bureau also stormed into the Institute and demanded to have the president's seal and bank book, with a physical fight breaking out in the process. It was also revealed that the Bureau was preparing to pass a new piece of legislation allowing the Bureau to hand-pick the members of the Institute's board of directors.

This was the start of a three-year struggle that extended from the beginning of 2019 to January 2022, during which time the BWDI was not able to appoint a president of their choosing. Although a new head of the BDP was now in place, the conflict showed no signs of resolving itself. The new head tried to persuade and pressure the members of the

Institute into conceding to the Bureau's demands. However, the women of the Institute were now painfully aware of the power dynamics and gender inequality of the Korean Buddhist monastic hierarchy. When they finally refused to accept the Bureau's demands in December 2021, the Bureau subsequently announced that they would henceforth be disowning the BWDI and cutting all existing ties. They announced that the "BWDI is no longer affiliated with the Jogye Order. They cannot use the name Jogye; and those who are affiliated with the BWDI are not allowed to participate in any Jogye activities. It is a harmful organization to the Order and any organizations that cooperate with this organization will be considered harmful as well".

During over two years of conflict and struggle, these laywomen were forced to open their eyes to the reality of male authoritative culture in Korean Buddhism, and what the male Buddhist community thought of women in general. Meanwhile, in this process, another peculiar phenomenon was observed in terms of gender hierarchy. Although the members of the Korean *Bhiks.un. ¯ı* Association were favorable towards the laywomen in the beginning, they eventually withdrew their support and even went so far as to replace the monks in reprimanding the laywomen. These nuns were of course pressured into doing so by higher-ranking monks, who gave them a mission to "persuade" the laywomen. Unfortunately, this led the laywomen to distrust not only the monks but the nuns as well. In the end, amidst all this hostility and antagonism, the laywomen of the Institute eventually declared their autonomy, transgressed the Jogye Order, and chose to operate as a nonsectarian women's group independent of any religious order.

#### **6. Conclusions**

In this paper, I have examined several instances that reveal the internal and external circumstances in which the Korean *bhiks.un. ¯ı sam. gha* and female lay Buddhists currently find themselves, as well as the demand for change that arose among them. The conservative strand of traditional Buddhism still dominates Korean Buddhism today. The state of gender imbalance in the current Buddhist community is much more serious than that of Korean society as a whole. Beyond normative male-centric and misogynistic traditional religious culture, Korean Buddhism is currently experiencing a regression of sorts, owing to the serious misogyny and anti-feminism that have been steadily on the rise since 2010.

However, apart from these general societal trends, one major problem that Buddhist women are facing is that they knowingly or unknowingly continue to embody and reproduce this male-centric, authoritative culture. The fact that monks reprimanded laywomen with the phrase "how dare you bodhisattvas . . . [defy us monks]" during the conflict between the Bureau of Dharma Propagation and the Buddhist Women's Development Institute clearly reveals the underlying power hierarchy at work. More fundamentally, this has to do with the stereotype that interprets and disparages women's religious behavior as superstitious and irrational, prevalent in Korean Buddhism. Language and practices that belittle femininity itself are still being used regularly without any reflection, criticism, consideration, or evaluation of the diversity and context of women's experiences. In turn, women themselves imbibe this tendency, resulting in a vicious cycle of internalized selfhatred and humiliation. It is thus necessary to stop waiting passively for one's religious identity to be confirmed by someone else's authority, especially that of a senior monk. The image typical of female Korean believers, showing absolute respect to male monks regardless of age, can symbolically be found in the following expression, "an old bodhisattva attends to a young monk like a servant, holding his garments and bag behind him". It is this subordinate relationship that perpetuates a culture which unrestrictedly tolerates the arrogance of male monastics.

Furthermore, there are no support groups to help women who want to speak out against these prejudices. The Buddhist Women's Development Institute had to fight a very lonely battle. As the Buddhist community has little experience of social participation, there are not many social groups in the first place. Even the 2017 'Corruption Report' published by the Coalition of Lay Organizations does not contain many references to women's rights. In particular, there is no clear awareness or will to solve the problem of gender inequality through social and institutional interventions or strategies. It goes without saying that the Jogye Order does not have an official human rights division or a sexual violence counseling center, and neither are the issues of women's rights or sexual violence of great interest to Buddhist political groups. The Order's current legislative system, which allots all positions of high authority exclusively to *bhiks.u*s, simultaneously denying women's rights to participate in religious affairs, is a blatant violation of Article 11 of the Korean Constitution which states that "all citizens shall be equal before the law, and there shall be no discrimination in political, economic, social or cultural life on account of sex, religion or social status". Yet so far there has been no attempt of a collective organized resistance such as a class action lawsuit against the unconstitutional elements of the Order's regulations.

Furthermore, it is fundamentally impossible for monks and nuns to interact with one another as equals so long as precepts such as the Eight *Garudhamma*s still stand, greatly limiting the social observances and formal procedures a nun can follow.<sup>10</sup> The eight *Garudhamma*, meaning eight "weighty rules", are a list of specific rules included in all the various recensions of *bhiks.un. ¯ı* Vinaya, a collection of monastic regulations. These eight special rules are regarded to have been established with an explicit purpose of subordinating the female ordinant to the *bhiks.u sam. gha* at the time of the ordination by the Buddha himself, which has since been questioned by scholars. These rules set a condition in which female monastics must be deferential and subordinate to *bhiks.u*s and dependent on them. Among these eight rules, perhaps the most harmful and profoundly restrictive in today's society are the last two rules—the seventh, that a nun should never abuse or revile a monk in any way; and the eighth, that it is forbidden for a nun ever to admonish a monk. According to the *Garudhamma*s, merely pointing out a monk's fault would already constitute a violation, necessitating repentance and censure. Therefore, no matter how constructive and reasonable an opinion may be, it will automatically be interpreted as a criticism or a challenge, making it immensely difficult for nuns to even raise any objections. Since precepts like the Eight *Garudhamma*s hinder the very possibility of equal communication between nuns and monks, it presents a very serious regulatory obstacle that should ultimately be abandoned.

Today is the result of yesterday, which will in turn give birth to tomorrow. In order to solve the current dilemma, it is necessary to determine and eliminate the cause of the problem. We can only expect progress when the Buddhist community promotes gender awareness and establishes fair policies across religious, institutional, and social aspects. Only by improving the Buddhist community's sexist and discriminatory culture will female members be able to realize their religious potential and cultivate a positive regard for the religious order to which they belong. We will then be able to collectively move forward and establish a sound Buddhist culture suitable for modern society.

**Funding:** This research received no external funding.

**Institutional Review Board Statement:** Not applicable.

**Informed Consent Statement:** Not applicable.

**Conflicts of Interest:** The author declares no conflict of interest.

#### **Notes**


#### **References**


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