Today (12) is Vesak Full Moon Day, although Saturday (10) marked the beginning of the State Vesak Festival. The week will see the entire nation illuminated by beautiful Vesak lanterns, towering pandals, shimmering oil lamps arranged in different patterns, generous dansal lining the streets, and groups of people singing devotional songs.
While many immerse themselves in these vibrant celebrations, a smaller group quietly retreats to temples, observing ‘sil’ and upholding the deeper spiritual principles of the season. For the next three days, bars, liquor stores, and meat shops will remain closed, symbolising a collective shift toward ‘avihinsawadi’ – non-violence and purity.
Yet, this same week has also drawn the nation into a sobering conversation about human rights. Just days ago, the tragic death by suicide of a young girl in Kotahena made headlines. She was allegedly a victim of sexual abuse and later subjected to verbal harassment at a tuition class. Her death has sent shockwaves across the country, prompting a surge of voices, with activists, citizens, and educators speaking out about the importance of protecting the rights of children.
It’s quite the contrast. We are commemorating the birth, enlightenment, and passing of the Buddha – a leader who showed the path of compassion (karuna) and loving-kindness (metta). And we are compelled to reflect on how far we’ve strayed from those ideals in the way we protect our most vulnerable.
Human rights and the Buddha’s word
Today, conversations about human rights have become more common – whether it’s the rights of children, women, or persons with disabilities. But why do we need to protect these rights in the first place? It may be because, at a fundamental level, we’ve forgotten how to truly respect one another.
Respect was something our religions taught us from the beginning, but often, it has remained one-sided. We hear about how children should respect parents, students should respect teachers, employees should respect employers. But what about the other way around?
The Buddha, in the Dhamma, was clear – respect is not a one-way street. Take the Sigalovada Sutta for example. It outlines the mutual responsibilities in relationships: Between parents and children, teachers and students, employers and employees, and so on. Even though it was spoken over 2,500 years ago, the essence of the sutta is deeply relevant today.
Of course, its interpretation must evolve to fit the modern world, but its foundation is solid. It teaches that true respect is rooted in reciprocity – and that is the very heart of human dignity.
The Buddha emphasised non-harming (ahimsa), right speech, and right action – principles that closely mirror what we speak of today as human rights. He taught that every being, no matter their caste, gender, or background, carries intrinsic worth. In the Dhammapada, he says:
“Sabbe tasanti daṇḍassa, sabbe bhāyanti maccuno; Attānaṃ upamaṃ katvā, na haneyya na ghātaye”
(All tremble at violence; all fear death. Putting oneself in the place of another, one should not kill nor cause another to kill)
These aren’t just spiritual teachings meant for personal meditation. They are powerful reminders to live with empathy, protection, and restraint. If we truly took them to heart, we would live in a society where a child doesn’t fear her own community, and where dignity and safety aren’t privileges – but the norm.
Loving kindness as a way forward
The Buddha’s teachings are often framed as a path to personal liberation, but they also offer a profound ethical foundation that resonates deeply with the principles we now recognise as human rights.
At the heart of this foundation lie the four Brahma Viharas: Metta (loving-kindness), karuna (compassion), mudita (rejoicing in others’ joy), and upekkha (equanimity). As dhammawiki.com explains, these are not fleeting emotions but cultivated mental states, ways of being that must be consciously developed and sustained.
If metta shaped the way we interacted with one another, then the safety and dignity of children – especially girls – would never be in question. The idea of a child’s suffering being dismissed or overlooked, as tragically reported in the recent Kotahena case, would be unthinkable. Karuna demands not just sympathy but a willingness to feel another’s pain and respond to it with care and urgency. To ignore a child’s plea, or to ridicule her pain, is to reject the very core of compassion.
Mudita allows us to genuinely celebrate others’ wellbeing and success, reducing the envy and resentment that often breed division and cruelty. And upekkha teaches us to stay balanced and fair, to act with clarity and justice, not influenced by status, bias, or fear. Together, these four qualities form a moral compass that, if truly followed, would foster a society where dignity is not a luxury, but a given where every person’s rights are honoured not only in law but in the way we speak, act, and care for one another.
Man is his own master
In his acclaimed book ‘What the Buddha Taught’, Ven. Walpola Rahula wrote:
“Man’s position, according to Buddhism, is supreme. Man is his own master, and there is no higher being or power that sits in judgment over his destiny.”
The Buddha’s teaching is: “One is one’s own refuge; who else could be the refuge?”
This places deep responsibility on the individual – not just for their own liberation, but for the way they live among others. In the context of human rights, this reminds us that protection and justice aren’t only the job of laws or governments. Each of us carries the moral duty to safeguard the dignity of others – to speak up when it’s easier to stay silent, to protect when it’s easier to turn away.
A society rooted in this kind of self-awareness would not wait for tragedy to act; it would uphold human rights as a daily practice – grounded in personal conscience and shared humanity.
This is not to suggest that Buddhism holds a superior moral ground. Every major religion offers a sound ethical framework that, if followed with integrity, nurtures respect, compassion, and justice. The challenge we all seem to face, regardless of faith, is how far we’ve drifted from these core values. Instead of living them, we often celebrate religion in its most performative and consumer-driven forms.
Perhaps the way forward is to pause and look back, not with nostalgia, but with honesty, at what our religions genuinely taught us: To live simply, to care deeply, and to respect one another fully.
(The writer is a mental health professional and has, over the past 13 years, contributed to several Sri Lankan media publications in both English and Sinhala languages, focusing on topics related to psychology and counselling)