Thus, in a manner similar to Jung, Jones constructs an Asian “Other” that is essentially the opposite of (and complimentary to) his Western “Self”-image. For Jones, Buddhism becomes primarily an enlightened spiritual tradition that has always been relatively disinterested in social and political issues. We stand to learn much from its spiritual wisdom, but its socio-political disinterest must be considered naïve or even dangerous in today’s modern world. Conversely for Jones, we in “the West” have developed a strong socio-political awareness and tradition, though we have done so for the most part in isolation from our own spiritual traditions. Buddhists stand to learn much from our socio-political wisdom, but our modern spiritual nihilism must be considered naïve or even dangerous in today’s modern world. Having set up this Self/Other (socio-political/spiritual) dichotomy, Jones perceives that we now have a unique and unprecedented opportunity to attempt to forge a union of these two great traditions:(26)

The traditional Buddhist picture of personal delusion karmically sustained over many lifetimes must now be supplemented and seen also as a social process sustained through successive historical cultures. Society in the Buddha’s time lacked the kind of dynamism and complexity that might have stimulated such awareness. This only came into existence in the West in comparatively recent times, with the emergence of the social sciences. (1989: 37-38)

However, he regularly implies that recent attempts on the part of both Buddhists and Western activists sympathetic to Buddhism seem inevitably to have resulted in some form of reductive modernism, that “secularized shell of public Buddhism” (1989: 275) that combines, not the best, but elements of the worst of each tradition.

Jones suggests that the “transcendental modernism” developed in his book provides the elusive formula needed to effectively combine the best of both. In the following remarkable passage, Jones (1) recognizes the (essence of) Dharma as (beneficial) “light”; (2) appropriates the authority to (a) reveal this light from behind its thick, cultural “encrustations,” (b) determine (presumably) what is and what is not an “archaic,” “misleading,” or “obsolescent” encrustation, and (c) speak “both for many dedicated Buddhists and for the great mass of socially concerned people”; and (3) distances his transcendental modernism from Buddhism’s currently encrusted state:

[T]o explain the modern world in the light of Dharma, various cultural encrustations of time may need to be gently scraped off. Archaic and misleading modes of presentation, obsolescent institutions, and extrinsic secondary beliefs may have so dimmed the light that only the most sensitive and dedicated can still read by it. When the light has become feeble and the encrustations thick, then the whole apparatus may become widely understandable only in secular terms. And this makes of it something altogether different. It is the task of transcendental modernism to prevent this happening and, with humility and sensitivity, to help keep open access by all to the essential Dharma. Writing this book is an exercise of this kind, in a world in which Buddhism as a spirituality at present lacks direct social significance, both for many dedicated Buddhists and for the great mass of socially concerned people. (1989: 271-272)

Overall, I am generally quite sympathetic to Jones’s warnings about the contemporary tendency toward secular “reductive modernism.” The problem (and it is a big one) with his otherwise insightful observations is that he far overextends his critique: just about everybody who describes Buddhism as having had a history of social engagement seems to be accused of being a reductive modernist. This critique is enabled by his elaboration of what he considers the essence of Buddhism to be—a perennial set of truths intended to address the “existential” (but not the socio-political) sufferings of beings. For Jones, it is only now, in the modern era, that we have developed the mature perspective (and the urgent need) to bring out the socio-political implications latent in the Buddha’s perennial teachings. However, unfortunately, everyone who has tried to do this has gone too far, inadvertently reducing Buddhism to a hollowed-out shell of secular, localized, socio-political ideologies, thereby losing Buddhism’s original, transcendental, perennial essence. Jones seems to find only himself to be uniquely qualified to speak for what an “engaged Buddhism” could and should be. It should be evident that in all of these respects, and in spite of his otherwise excellent contributions, Jones is clearly a classic example of what I have herein described as a modernist.

Christopher Queen, et al.—Engaged Buddhism in Asia (1996) and the West (2000)

As I suggested in the introduction, in the last couple of years “engaged Buddhist studies” has begun to show the mature signs of a great deal more critical self-reflection. One such sign has been the conscious identification of the “newness” issue as one needing serious study and debate. For example, in his preface to the anthology Engaged Buddhism: Buddhist Liberation Movements in Asia (1996), editor Christopher Queen identifies this issue as “the central question” that he will explore in his introduction: