Only rarely have feminist theorists addressed the adequacy of just -war theory, a set of principles developed over hundreds of years to assess the justice of going to war and the morality of conduct in war. Recently, a few feminist scholars have found just -war theory inadequate, yet their own counterproposals are also deficient. I assess feminist contributions to just -war theorizing and suggest ways of strengthening, rather than abandoning, this moral approach to war.

The debate over religious lawmaking pits respect for religious pluralism against moral identity. Peach contends that both sides of the argument are fundamentally flawed and that neither has addressed the gender-based disparities of religious lawmaking. The book offers a pragmatic solution which will respect religious pluralism, moral identity, and gender differences.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Portraits of Buddhist WomenLucinda PeachPortraits of Buddhist Women. By Ranjini Obeyesekere. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2001. 231 pp.This book is a translation of part of the Saddharmaratnavaliya (Jewel Garland of the True Doctrine; hereafter SR ), a thirteenth-century Sinhala translation of the Dhammapada (hereafter DA ), a fifth-century Buddhist text. Out of the entire collection of 360 stories contained in the SR, this book includes (...) twenty-six that have women as central characters.The author succeeds in part with her stated purpose to "illuminate the position of women in the early-medieval Buddhist worlds of India and Sri Lanka" as well as to "provide insights into shifting stances over time on issues of sexuality and gender" (p. 1), despite the lack of any necessary correlation between gender images and the actual status of women in a particular social location. As Obeyesekere points out, although the stories themselves are not focused on gender, their contexts in the "everyday world" of their fifth- and thirteenth-century authors do shed light on women's lives and social status. The stories she has selected for the volume portray women in a wide range of roles, including not only the ideal normative ones of wives and mothers, but also those of daughters, courtesans, servants, queens, nuns, and wandering ascetics.Obeyesekere claims that the particularities in these narratives "reflect the status, intelligence, management, and organizational skills of women that were permitted full play in the social worlds to which they belonged" (p. 11). This claim is borne out by several passages in the text, such as the narrative of Kundalakesi, which has a deity state that "it is not men who always have the best stratagems.... [In] certain situations women too know what to do" (p. 120).Furthermore, women's capabilities and talents are sometimes recognized by the men in the narratives. Visakha's grandfather chooses her to escort the Buddha and arrange accommodations for the enormous entourage that accompanied her betrothed. Samavati's adopted father, Ghosaka, unquestioningly accepts her advice on how to organize an alms-hall (to prevent quarreling) and how to deal with the King's (unreasonable) demands. After she has "shed the three evils of belief in self, doubts, and erroneous beliefs and practices," Khujjuttara preaches a sermon "exactly as the Buddha has done" (p. 63) and becomes the teacher of Samavati and her five hundred attendants.However, Obeyesekere also notes the antifeminist elements that are sprinkled throughout the text. The statements in the narrative of Visakha that "women who run are most unattractive" and will meet with criticism and ridicule for having no feminine grace and acting in a manner not befitting for a woman (pp. 84-85) reveals how restrictive gender-role norms were in thirteenth-century Sri Lanka. A woman's body is described as a polluted lump of flesh in the Udeni cycle (a collection [End Page 289] of five related narratives); here the Buddha is said to describe woman's body as a "container with its nine orifices filled with feces and urine" that "I would be disgusted even to wipe my feet on... as I would on a door mat" (p. 12; see also p. 54). Comparisons to women are used to criticize men, as when King Udeni tells King Candapajjota's guards (after the latter king has locked up the former seemingly indefinitely after capturing him) that "Your kind does what even women would not do..." (p. 48). This comparison indicates that women are not honorable and trustworthy, but willing to impose extended and unnecessary suffering on their victims.Other antifeminist elements in the SR include the backhanded compliment to Visakha that "though born a woman (and women are of limited vision), and though forced to associate with people who were of the right caste but held wrong beliefs, yet she herself did not lack vision" (pp. 14, 79). This sentiment about women in general is consistent with the widespread belief in popular Buddhism that men are more highly evolved on the cosmic chain than are women.This view is illustrated in the narrative of Soreyya, who transforms from a male to a female form when he... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Women Under the Bo TreeLucinda Joy PeachWomen Under the Bo Tree. By Tessa Bartholomeusz. Cambridge, Great Britain: Cambridge University Press, 1994. xx + 284 pp.Tessa Bartholomeusz has made an important contribution to our understanding of Buddhist women with her carefully researched study of the emergence of “pious lay women” or “lay female renunciant” (upasika) as a new category of Buddhists in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Sri Lanka. Bartholomeusz focuses on (...) the period of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as this period was not only one of a Buddhist revival in Sri Lanka, partially in reaction against European colonialism and its imposition of Christianity on the island, but also the period during which the upasika role developed.Part One of the book traces the historical background of the tradition of female renunciation within Buddhism and its reemergence in the nineteenth century. Part Two describes twentieth-century developments in this tradition up to the date of publication (1994). The author uses a wide variety of documentary sources to describe the various factors that contributed to the emergence of the category of female lay renunciant in Sri Lanka beginning in the nineteenth century: the exclusion of women from full ordination; the rise of Protestant Buddhism, with its belief in the responsibility of the laity for both the welfare of Buddhism and their own salvation (p. 24); the promotion of Buddhism as an anti-Western and anticolonialist [End Page 218] strategy by nationalistic Ceylonese; and the disestablishment of Buddhism, which created a less close-knit relationship between the monastic institution (sangha) and the state.Bartholomeusz does a fine job of describing the relationship between gender stereotypes of women in Sri Lankan society and Buddhist scriptures on the one hand and the actual roles of the lay renunciant women she studies on the other. She describes how the prevailing sexism of Sri Lankan society (and of the Indian society of early Buddhism prior to that) created obstacles for Buddhist women wishing to renounce the world—they are expected to be wives and mothers, and to support the male sangha. Bartholomeusz persuasively describes how the category of upasika developed to fill the gap between householder and full monastic roles for women. The order of fully ordained Buddhist nuns (bhikkunis)—who take ten monastic precepts (dasa sila) in addition to 311 monastic Vinaya rules—established at the time of the Buddha disappeared in Sri Lanka in the eleventh century (and eventually in all Theravada Buddhist countries). Consequently, Buddhist women in these countries are essentially limited to taking lay vows—or taking ordination from nuns in the Mahayana lineage, which, as Bartholomeusz points out, is also quite controversial, especially because it contradicts the view of Sri Lanka as “the bastion of orthodox Buddhism” (p. 14).Lay renunciant women have carefully negotiated their status in relation to both the traditional roles of women in Sri Lankan Buddhism as well as the nineteenth- and twentieth-century efforts by reformers to modernize those roles. Bartholomeusz observes that while maintaining certain elements of women’s traditional social roles as caregivers and nurturers (e.g., p. 152), lay renunciant women have also broken with the traditions of recent centuries by refusing to be satisfied with lives as householders and insisting on their right to renounce lay life—and most in the absence of full monastic vows. It is unfortunate that Bartholomeusz does not address in any depth the implications of the “liminal” status of women lay renunciants (dasa sila mattas) for the status of women in Sri Lanka more generally. Nor does the author provide her own view of whether this intermediate status has provided Sri Lankan women with more or less opportunities and freedoms than held by their Buddhist sisters in other Buddhist countries, especially in Mahayana cultures where full ordination for women exists.Jan Nattier’s analysis of status dissonance and hierarchy in early Indian Buddhism 1 provides a useful framework for considering the various hierarchies of status that Bartholomeusz describes in connection with lay renunciant women. The material that Bartholomeusz presents complexifies this typology. Besides the categories of gender, caste, and seniority that Nattier finds in early Indian Buddhist sutras, Bartholomeusz points to several other status hierarchies, some... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Women Under the Bo TreeLucinda Joy PeachWomen Under the Bo Tree. By Tessa Bartholomeusz. Cambridge, Great Britain: Cambridge University Press, 1994. xx + 284 pp.Tessa Bartholomeusz has made an important contribution to our understanding of Buddhist women with her carefully researched study of the emergence of “pious lay women” or “lay female renunciant” (upasika) as a new category of Buddhists in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Sri Lanka. Bartholomeusz focuses on (...) the period of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as this period was not only one of a Buddhist revival in Sri Lanka, partially in reaction against European colonialism and its imposition of Christianity on the island, but also the period during which the upasika role developed.Part One of the book traces the historical background of the tradition of female renunciation within Buddhism and its reemergence in the nineteenth century. Part Two describes twentieth-century developments in this tradition up to the date of publication (1994). The author uses a wide variety of documentary sources to describe the various factors that contributed to the emergence of the category of female lay renunciant in Sri Lanka beginning in the nineteenth century: the exclusion of women from full ordination; the rise of Protestant Buddhism, with its belief in the responsibility of the laity for both the welfare of Buddhism and their own salvation (p. 24); the promotion of Buddhism as an anti-Western and anticolonialist [End Page 218] strategy by nationalistic Ceylonese; and the disestablishment of Buddhism, which created a less close-knit relationship between the monastic institution (sangha) and the state.Bartholomeusz does a fine job of describing the relationship between gender stereotypes of women in Sri Lankan society and Buddhist scriptures on the one hand and the actual roles of the lay renunciant women she studies on the other. She describes how the prevailing sexism of Sri Lankan society (and of the Indian society of early Buddhism prior to that) created obstacles for Buddhist women wishing to renounce the world—they are expected to be wives and mothers, and to support the male sangha. Bartholomeusz persuasively describes how the category of upasika developed to fill the gap between householder and full monastic roles for women. The order of fully ordained Buddhist nuns (bhikkunis)—who take ten monastic precepts (dasa sila) in addition to 311 monastic Vinaya rules—established at the time of the Buddha disappeared in Sri Lanka in the eleventh century (and eventually in all Theravada Buddhist countries). Consequently, Buddhist women in these countries are essentially limited to taking lay vows—or taking ordination from nuns in the Mahayana lineage, which, as Bartholomeusz points out, is also quite controversial, especially because it contradicts the view of Sri Lanka as “the bastion of orthodox Buddhism” (p. 14).Lay renunciant women have carefully negotiated their status in relation to both the traditional roles of women in Sri Lankan Buddhism as well as the nineteenth- and twentieth-century efforts by reformers to modernize those roles. Bartholomeusz observes that while maintaining certain elements of women’s traditional social roles as caregivers and nurturers (e.g., p. 152), lay renunciant women have also broken with the traditions of recent centuries by refusing to be satisfied with lives as householders and insisting on their right to renounce lay life—and most in the absence of full monastic vows. It is unfortunate that Bartholomeusz does not address in any depth the implications of the “liminal” status of women lay renunciants (dasa sila mattas) for the status of women in Sri Lanka more generally. Nor does the author provide her own view of whether this intermediate status has provided Sri Lankan women with more or less opportunities and freedoms than held by their Buddhist sisters in other Buddhist countries, especially in Mahayana cultures where full ordination for women exists.Jan Nattier’s analysis of status dissonance and hierarchy in early Indian Buddhism 1 provides a useful framework for considering the various hierarchies of status that Bartholomeusz describes in connection with lay renunciant women. The material that Bartholomeusz presents complexifies this typology. Besides the categories of gender, caste, and seniority that Nattier finds in early Indian Buddhist sutras, Bartholomeusz points to several other status hierarchies, some... (shrink)