Armies of the Enlightened

These growing numbers are translating into political power regionwide. That's made Beijing, for one, deeply nervous. This month, for example, on the 49th anniversary of a failed Tibetan uprising against Chinese rule, hundreds of Tibetan Buddhists plan to march from the Indian town of Dharamsala, the seat of the Tibetan government-in-exile, to Lhasa, Tibet's capital—one of a series of protests linked to the upcoming Olympics.

Buddhism's growth could also translate to other, longer-term challenges to Communist Party rule. Experts on Chinese Buddhism say that more and more believers are converting to the Tibetan variety or worshiping with itinerant spiritual instructors at home, outside of government-approved temples—and outside government control. Many of these "living Buddhas," says Gareth Fisher of the University of Richmond, frequently criticize the ills of present-day Chinese society, including politically sensitive topics like corruption or environmental despoliation.

In India, meanwhile, resurgent Buddhist movements have begun entering politics directly. Udit Raj, a Dalit who converted to Buddhism seven years ago and founded a political party, says, "Dalits must liberate themselves from the shackles of their oppressed past. Buddhism is the path to liberation." Many of his fellow caste members agree and have gravitated toward the Bahujan Samaj Party, which now controls Uttar Pradesh, India's largest state. The BSP's populist Dalit leader, Mayawati Kumari, who follows Buddhist practices in her everyday life (though she hasn't converted) shocked observers last year when she helped her party win 206 seats in the 403-member state assembly; since then, she's started to be touted as a potential prime minister. Mayawati has made it clear where her support lies, encouraging ambitious plans to erect Buddhist landmarks throughout Uttar Pradesh—including a 150-meter-long, $250 million bronze Buddha at Kushinagar, where the historical Buddha died.

That sort of direct political participation is also evident elsewhere. In Sri Lanka, where the Buddhist Sinhalese majority has been fighting an on-and-off civil war against the island's Hindu Tamil minority since 1983, Buddhist monks have served in Parliament under the banner of the ultranationalist JHU party. So far, the JHU's numbers are small—it holds only nine seats out of 225—but that belies its influence. The party joined the governing coalition of President Mahinda Rajapaksa last year, and has attracted Sri Lanka's most chauvinistic Sinhalese, who accuse the government of being too accommodating toward the Tamil separatists.

Defying Buddhist traditions of tolerance, the JHU has supported a full-fledged military crackdown on Tamil fighters and has pushed the government to back away from an internationally mediated ceasefire. The JHU has also pushed for controversial laws to prevent proselytizing by foreign Christian missionaries and agitated against sharing foreign aid for the 2004 tsunami with the rebels.

This pugnacious side of Buddhism has manifested itself in Thailand, too, where well over 90 percent of the country's 62 million people are Buddhist. Thai monks are barred from serving as legislators, but a group called the Dharma Army, associated with a small Buddhist sect called Santi Asoke, already plays a key role in national politics, and helped bring down Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra during massive street demonstrations two years ago.

The Dharma Army is led by Chamlong Srimuang, a charismatic ex-general and former Bangkok mayor who has turned the ascetic group (its members abstain from sex and eat only one meal per day) into a disciplined and highly vocal organization that attacks political malfeasance and corruption in the state-supported clerical establishment. The group opposed Thaksin for his alleged corruption and abuses of power, and, according to Zachary Abuza, professor of political science at Simmons College in Boston, lent critical support to the oligarchy and the military when they moved against him. The Dharma Army "really hate what Thaksin stands for," he says—namely a populist threat to the country's traditional hierarchy.