Boards are responsible for responding to and preventing sexual misconduct. When that’s not clear, difficulties will arise. We hope other sanghas won’t have to learn this firsthand as we did. Here is what we would like other sanghas, and especially other boards, to know about the board’s role:

What it means to be a nonprofit
Founder syndrome and puppet boards
Legal and ethical duties of a board
Boards and sexual misconduct
The (ir)relevance of lawsuits
Pushback
Differences between board power and clergy power
Shared leadership
An offer of mutual support

What it means to be a nonprofit

Many Buddhist communities in the U.S. begin informally, with a group of people deciding to meet regularly in a living room, in some other borrowed space, or over the internet. The question “Who’s in charge here?” might be answered, “Oh, there’s not much to decide” or “All of us—we do everything by consensus.” If the group was founded by a teacher, the answer might instead be, “Of course it’s the teacher who’s in charge; after all, this is their group.”

Incorporating as a nonprofit changes things in ways that are easy to underestimate. Becoming a nonprofit is not just a matter of making donations tax-deductible. Once a group has become a nonprofit, it is a legal entity in its own right, separate from its founders. This new legal entity is bound by legal documents (the articles of incorporation and bylaws), and the question “Who’s in charge here?” is definitively settled: a nonprofit governs itself, via its board of directors.

This is true regardless of the mission of the nonprofit. There is no special exemption for nonprofits founded by spiritual teachers. Once an organization has been incorporated as a nonprofit, it is a different organization: it is an organization run by a board and not by founders or teachers. If this change is glossed over or trivialized, it is a major warning sign for future problems.

Founder syndrome and puppet boards

Founder syndrome can affect any organization, whether for-profit or nonprofit. Wikipedia defines founder syndrome as “the difficulty faced by organizations…where one or more founders maintain disproportionate power and influence following the effective initial establishment of the organization, leading to a wide range of problems.”

Founder syndrome is a predictable growing pain. It is not easy for founders to let go of the power they initially exercised, even if they are enthusiastic about incorporating as a nonprofit (which by definition requires them to relinquish power to the board). Nor is it easy for nonprofit board members to exercise the power they actually hold (and must hold) if it means overriding the preferences of a founder—particularly if that founder is also their teacher. 

What does founder syndrome look like? Having founders or spiritual teachers serving as board members is not necessarily a problem, as long as they don’t expect to have “disproportionate power and influence.” It is a problem, though, if other board members think of themselves as a de facto staff and the founders as their de facto bosses. Founder syndrome can also be seen when, in times of urgency or crisis, the board is pressured to fast-track decisions in line with the founder’s wishes. Founder syndrome can be written into an organization’s bylaws through attempts to create a lifetime board appointment for the founder or clauses to make it more difficult to remove a director who is a founder than it is to remove other directors. Founder syndrome can take place even after the founder has left the organization if, for instance, there is pressure to give a transgressing teacher inappropriate latitude because of their status as the founder.

In the worst case scenario, the boards become “puppets” of the founder, relegated to merely adding their stamp of approval on decisions already made.

Puppet boards are bad for organizations and for their directors. Organizations with puppet boards suffer because they lack transparent, independent leadership. Directors suffer because serving on a puppet board puts them at risk of violating their legal and ethical duties as fiduciaries of the organization.

Legal and ethical duties of a board

What does it mean for board members to be fiduciaries of the organization? Many people misunderstand the word “fiduciary,” thinking it just means “something to do with money.” This misunderstanding pairs easily with a “puppet board” concept of board duties: perhaps a board is just supposed to manage an organization’s finances (taking in donations, paying the rent), leaving all other decisions to the organization’s real leaders; that is, to its founder(s) and/or—in the case of Buddhist organizations—its teachers.

The truth is the opposite. Being a fiduciary means being entrusted with accountability for an organization’s well-being. It means taking on the highest possible standard of care under the law. It’s a big responsibility. As fiduciaries, board members promise to act on behalf of the organization they serve. They must determine, as best they can and using their own judgment, what is in the best interests of their organization across every dimension (not just finance), and then they must act in those best interests, no matter what kind of pushback they encounter.

Board members’ fiduciary duty is often broken down into three overlapping aspects: the duty of obedience requires them to follow the law and carry out the organization’s stated mission; the duty of loyalty requires them to place the organization’s interests above their own at all times; and the duty of care requires them to take their board duties seriously: they need to be active, not passive, in looking out for the organization’s interests.

Boards and sexual misconduct

Board members’ duty of care requires them to take active steps to try to prevent sexual misconduct from occurring. This is not a matter of ensuring that there are “no bad apples” among the teachers. Sexual misconduct is not a “bad apple” kind of problem; it is a systemic risk that demands systemic solutions. 

What might systemic solutions look like? This is a question boards should ask themselves continuously since there’s always room for improvement. Among other things, boards should consider these preventative measures:

• Giving teachers ongoing access to relevant training, such as the Buddhist Healthy Boundaries course;
• Providing regular training to sangha members on teacher-student boundaries, ethics, non-profit structure, and related matters;
• Adopting clear and detailed bylaws and governance policies, including ethics policies and procedures;
• Empowering an ethics council to work on education and prevention and recruiting an ethics ombudsperson to help with remediation;
• Ensuring that students have clear channels to seek information and assistance; and
• Offering support for teachers and students around “personal shadow.”

Of course, boards must also take effective corrective action if sexual misconduct occurs. This could include:

• Offering support to the victim;
• Conducting an investigation, using outside providers as necessary;
• Reporting the matter to arguably relevant external bodies such as the SZBA (which has a reporting clause in its ethics statement) or the AZTA;
• Imposing any necessary sanctions, restrictions, or path-to-recovery requirements on the transgressor; and
• Sharing information as transparently as possible with the sangha.

Note: Despite what these two separate sets of bullet points might suggest, the distinction between prevention and correction is not a sharp one. In fact, studies show that taking effective corrective action when sexual misconduct occurs may be, in itself, the most powerful form of prevention.

Also, a caution regarding requirements for a path to recovery: members of an injured community may be eager to recognize any movement toward regret on behalf of the transgressor as sufficient for reinstatement or absolution. The board must bear in mind that prior to reinstatement, a transgressor must demonstrate true rehabilitation through following a suite of actions, such as those recommended by the FaithTrust Institute, bulleted below. Resistance to these steps on the part of the transgressor often indicates a resistance to the gravity of what they’ve done:

• Express and demonstrate true remorse;
• Take full responsibility;
• Step down from teaching [or similar roles] until restitution work is done;
• Notify professional organizations;
• Engage in therapy with a counselor who specializes in clergy abuse/professional misconduct;
• Submit (vetted) written apologies;
• Submit reports by teacher and therapist to board; and (only then)
• Apply for reinstatement.

Note: If a transgressor does apply for reinstatement, it is important to consult with the student (or students) harmed in order to center their needs.

The (ir)relevance of lawsuits

Sometimes people recognize that boards are responsible for responding to and trying to prevent sexual misconduct but mischaracterize the basis of that responsibility as being grounded in the need for the organization to “avoid expensive lawsuits.” 

Of course, all other things being equal, it is in an organization’s best interest to avoid being sued, and board members should do what they can to act on that interest. However, it is a mistake to focus on this outcome rather than on the organization’s core interests. The board of a sangha should focus on preventing and correcting sexual misconduct not to keep the organization from being sued (or from being sued themselves, in their capacity as directors), but rather because doing so will make the sangha a safe (or at least safer) place for Buddhist practice. The shorter slogan might be: just do the right thing so that your sangha can carry out its mission. 

The FaithTrust Institute makes a similar distinction between an “Institutional Protection Agenda,” which prioritizes defending the organization in civil litigation, and a “Justice-Making Agenda,” which prioritizes restitution for survivors and prevention training. Even those labels can be confusing, though, since protection of the institution’s real interests entails justice-making.

Focusing on doing the right thing rather than avoiding lawsuits at all costs allows board members to prioritize their organization’s core interests. It also sets up the right priorities in cases where the two bases of responsibility conflict. In the case of teacher misconduct, the best thing for the sangha would not be to resist liability at all costs by minimizing or obscuring the harm done, but rather to settle a lawsuit on reasonable terms or otherwise compensate a victim for the harm that they’ve suffered. (How could this be so? Because good corrective action is also good prevention, and because care of victims is part of a board’s duty of care for the sangha, it is not necessarily appropriate for a board to resist a lawsuit at all costs, should one be brought. The correct choice, where the sangha is arguably liable for harms, could be to reach a settlement that makes the victim whole.)

Pushback

To reiterate: in order to carry out their fiduciary duties, board members must try to determine what is in the best interests of their organization and then act in those best interests—and they must do so no matter what kind of pushback they encounter. 

Pushback may take the form of the “DARVO” dynamic (short for “Deny, Attack, and Reverse Victim and Offender”), with the board accused of supporting a victim who is the “true” offender, and/or with the board itself in the role of offender (“We wouldn’t have a problem if it weren’t for what the board is doing”). (See below for a more detailed discussion.)

It may take the form of pressure from distraught, confused, or frustrated sangha members, who argue that the board is overreacting, overreaching, or making things worse by “wallowing” in the issue, when in fact the board is simply exercising its duty of care and making space for everyone’s recovery. 

It may take the form of pressure from teachers who disagree with board actions and—more fundamentally—dispute the board’s ultimate authority to address sexual misconduct matters. Among other things, teachers who wish, consciously or unconsciously, to undermine board decisions may end up:

• Arguing that the entire board must recuse itself because board members are personally impacted by fallout from the sexual misconduct

(in fact, it is both possible and normal for boards under such circumstances to carry out their duties, and to do so ethically, among other reasons because there simply are no completely unimpacted people ready to step into board roles); 

• Arguing that the board should “just hand the whole matter over” to some third party to handle

(in fact, the board must retain ultimate responsibility, given its fiduciary duty to the organization);

• Arguing that “this is a spiritual matter” and that board actions—and especially any reference to the law or legal and ethical duties—somehow corrupts a spiritual solution

(in fact, this is a false dichotomy: board members may well be acting on their highest spiritual aspirations when they try to carry out their duty of care for the sangha);

• Taking systemic preventative measures personally, as if comprehensive ethics policies or teacher training requirements were an insult to “good apple” teachers

(in fact, studies show we are all safer when organizations treat misconduct as a systemic risk rather than an issue of “good” and “bad” teachers); or

• Attempting to control key decisions, such as (1) which outside consultants or providers to work with; (2) whether, when, or how a teacher who has committed sexual misconduct should be invited to speak to the sangha; or (3) whether, when, or how the sangha should publicly discuss any aspect of the misconduct

(in fact, all of these decisions fall under the board’s purview, given board members’ fiduciary duties).

Board members may find these various forms of pushback to be intense and difficult to bear. Serving as a board member can definitely be, to use a common Zen phrase, “a field of practice.” Board members do well to brace themselves, try to stay centered, and rely on each other for support. 

Differences between board power and teacher power

What if the alleged victim of a teacher’s sexual misconduct is also a member of the board? This is not an unlikely scenario, given the small size of most sanghas and the large overlap between the most engaged sangha members (who are particularly likely to be exposed to teacher misconduct) and those sangha members who are willing to serve on the board.

Does the power that an individual carries by virtue of being a board member counteract the power dynamics of the teacher-student relationship so that a board member cannot possibly be a victim of clergy misconduct? Or more than that: would misconduct rules actually be reversed under these circumstances so that the burden of boundary-keeping would be on the board member rather than the teacher?

The answer is no, because there are critical differences between board and teacher power. The nature of board leadership does not entail the kind of vulnerability and transference/countertransference as described with teacher roles and is therefore not governed by the civil and criminal laws that clergy and spiritual teachers (as well as therapists, chaplains, and other care providers) are subject to. Thus, misconduct rules would not place the burden of boundary-keeping on the board member rather than the teacher (thereby reversing their roles and making the teacher into a victim). Nor does the type of power exercised by a board member protect them from being vulnerable to a teacher’s abuse of power. Board members may be victimized just like any other member of the sangha.

The only relevance of a victim’s status as a board member is this: per ordinary conflict-of-interest principles as laid out in board bylaws, they must be recused from any board decision making in which they might be seen to have a conflict of interest.

Shared leadership

What does an appropriate balance of powers look like in a healthy and resilient sangha? How should the board and teachers share leadership? There is no single prescription, but this chart of GBZC’s newly clarified structure describes one possibility:

It’s important to recognize that this structure still permits input from founders and/or teachers to the board. As noted above, founders or spiritual teachers can even serve as voting board members, as long as they don’t expect to have “disproportionate power and influence.” At GBZC, we’ve decided to strike a prophylactic balance (minimizing the risk of puppet boards) by adding the following provision to our bylaws: “Members of the Senior Teaching Community shall not stand for election as a Director, though a Director who becomes a Senior Teacher may finish their term as a Director.” 

Furthermore, founders and/or teachers are always welcome to serve in an ex officio manner on the board (attending regularly and giving input without being voting members). They may also be invited to serve on the ethics response teams that guide the sangha’s response to incidents of sexual misconduct, with the understanding that, by virtue of its fiduciary duties, the board will always hold the ultimate responsibility for decision making related to matters of sexual misconduct.

An offer of mutual support

We noted at the outset that at GBZC, the process of recovering from sexual misconduct was made particularly difficult due to a lack of clarity or assent regarding the board’s role in responding to and preventing misconduct. We hope these materials about power structures and power struggles are helpful to other sanghas and particularly to other boards. If we can provide any further support, please don’t hesitate to contact us at resilientsangha@bostonzen.org. 

(last updated 2/27/23)

Next: Sangha Responses to Misconduct: Common Dynamics (DARVO)

Published June 12, 2022

As is established elsewhere in this project, because of the power dynamics in a situation of teacher abuse, no meaningful consent from the student is possible. That means that 100% of the responsibility for the harm falls on the teacher. Justice-making and healing therefore require that priority be given to the needs of the survivor. 

The first step in centering the needs of the survivor is for members of sangha leadership to educate themselves. Most people in their ordinary lives do not need to understand the subtle dynamics at play with clergy misconduct. When a situation like this emerges, it is thus vital that all leaders educate themselves (or refresh their education) on clergy boundaries, transgressions, and best practices in response. The student harmed may also not yet fully understand the nature and severity of what happened to them and can also benefit from this education, lovingly shared over time.

Dr. Marie Fortune, in her book Responding to Clergy Misconduct, recommends ways an organization can enact justice-making that center survivors. Her experience and research suggest that survivors’ needs tend to fall into seven areas. These areas are listed here, along with commentary drawn from the experience of our sangha:

1. Truth-telling. A survivor needs to be able to tell their story, in their own way, to people they choose, and especially to people with power such as board members, teachers, investigators, or authorities in the Buddhist mahasangha. Providing safe spaces and bearing witness to their experience is invaluable. Individuals can offer to listen; sangha leaders can organize listening circles. 

2. Acknowledging the violation. But the student needs more than listening if the student and the sangha are to heal. The student needs support—preferably unequivocal and public support—from those in power. The leaders of the sangha (and mahasangha) need to name the situation as abuse, state that the student was wronged, and state clearly that such conduct by a teacher is not to be tolerated. A written statement carries more impact than verbal assurances. Silence or vagueness may be interpreted as acquiescence to the abuse. The sangha leadership should reach out to any larger membership bodies with which the offender may be affiliated to notify them of the breach. 

3. Compassion is to suffer with the victim. The student needs the leaders (1) to understand how the student has been deeply harmed and (2) to feel that suffering as their own. Unfortunately, the first inclination of those who had previously developed a close relationship with that teacher (but not with the student) may be to express compassion only or primarily for the teacher. It is essential for leaders to resist this form of attachment-driven neglect of the student’s need for emotional support.

4. Protecting the vulnerable. Both while dealing with the current abuse and thinking about the future, the sangha must place the top priority on the safety of those who have been or could be harmed. Leaders who instead prioritize protecting an organization’s assets or reputation or the abuser and their family have not understood the depth of harm caused by abuse.

5. Accountability. It is imperative that leaders understand that holding the offender accountable for their behavior is a compassionate action and essential to healing and justice-making. Accountability does not mean simply an apology—especially if that apology is made before the extent of harm is understood. It means that the offender is asked to take full responsibility for all the harm done and bear the consequences.

6. Restitution. Restitution isn’t merely about making amends but about making every effort to “make whole.” Leaders need to do what they can to restore what was lost. This can include paying for the student’s therapy or other expenses. Ideally, the offender should also offer restitution. The sangha needs to make every effort to ensure the sangha is a safe and welcoming place for the student to continue practicing, if they so choose.

7. Vindication is not vengeance. Justice-making is centered on relieving the burdens unfairly imposed on the student. Negative repercussions for the offender, while no doubt unpleasant to them, are required for true accountability, and true accountability is required for any lasting healing or any hope of reconciliation. 

Of course, the student should also be encouraged to express their particular needs to the leadership. We recommend self-education as the first step, however, because it can be hard to make clear and informed decisions during the emotional and spiritual turmoil that immediately follows abuse. This list can offer a helpful starting place, especially if the student is still coming to terms with the nature of the relationship and abuse.

Next: Sangha Responses to Misconduct: Power Structures and Power Struggles: The Role of the Board 

Published June 12, 2022

The research on how to respond to sexual misconduct in religious communities is vast and cannot be thoroughly reviewed here (see “Resources” for some possible starting points). For the purposes of this document, we’d like to highlight one salient and powerful concept which illuminated many of the dynamics we experienced. DARVO, a concept introduced by researcher Jennifer Freyd, is short for “Deny, Attack, and Reverse Victim and Offender.” Our sangha was first exposed to this concept through a training by Jan Chozen Bays of the FaithTrust Institute. DARVO is a common defensive tactic of offenders who find themselves being held accountable for their actions. It is also frequently adopted by their allies or bystanders. It is not necessarily a conscious strategy.

• “D” stands for “deny.” Denial can be an outright denial that something happened or a minimization by claiming that what happened wasn’t serious. It can also include framing the victim as a willing participant or as someone who also bears shared responsibility for their abuse. 
• “A” stands for “attack.” Attack entails the use of language to further harm the victim and their support community. It includes the use of bullying, intimidation and threats to make the person harmed back down and think that even if they are in the right, they won’t be successful in being heard and will be punished for speaking.
• “RVO” stands for “reverse victim and offender.” As the offender is being held accountable for their actions, they suggest that in reality they are the one who is being persecuted. They may also bring forward all of the alleged harm the victim will do by speaking the truth. 

It is predictable, though saddening, when a teacher who has transgressed engages in these tactics, however consciously or unconsciously. But sanghas should also be prepared for the possibility that other beloved teachers, whether they be co-teachers or peers in other Buddhist institutions, will exhibit these behaviors as well, magnifying the transgressor’s own DARVO through their acts of omission and commission. In our experience, other teachers’ adoption of DARVO behaviors can in many ways be more painful and more spiritually wounding than the initial transgression. This is part of what makes responding to misconduct so difficult. The initial abuse can be hard enough to understand and deal with, and DARVO efforts serve to further distress those already in crisis.

The chart below is a summary of how DARVO can operate in instances of sexual misconduct, even when some basic facts (“a teacher transgressed boundaries, and that’s not OK”) aren’t in dispute. We hope it will be of benefit in understanding how these dynamics can manifest. If you have witnessed or been on the receiving end of these strategies, you are absolutely not alone.

Next: Sangha Responses to Misconduct: Tips for Informing and Communicating

Published June 12, 2022

Based on these common patterns and dynamics (and our own experience), we recommend the following tips for communicating with the sangha.

• Care for the survivor—listen to their story and make sure they are supported. 
• Notify the sangha of the breach with sensitivity and clarity. 
• Make sure both the transgressing teacher and the victim have clear lines of communication with the board—perhaps designate board members as their liaisons so decisions can be relayed back to them; do not leave either in the dark as to what the board is doing.
• Investigate what happened. As early as possible, the board should begin establishing the basic facts: ask questions of all relevant parties, request copies of any relevant documents, and establish a basic timeline. Then, if possible, consider hiring a qualified external investigator to carry out a complete investigation. This will require some money, but it can be worth the expense.
• If the misconduct is confirmed or undisputed, fire the teacher. They can always reapply to teach once they have sufficiently demonstrated rehabilitation. (Research what rehabilitation looks like. One key fact: it’s demonstrated over years, not months.)
• Communicate basic facts to the sangha. Do not let the matter rest on vague statements or rely on hearsay. This does not have to be explicit, but it needs to be clear. “Sexual misconduct” is preferred to “personal matters,” “inappropriate conduct,” or other vague terms. See DARVO.
• Do not assume you know how many are affected by this transgressive behavior. Seek to understand if others have similar stories and treat any further testimony with all due care.
• Do not ferry communications from the teacher to the sangha. The teacher is on their own journey that is necessarily separate from the journey of the sangha. It is inappropriate for the board or other leadership to help the teacher repair their relationship with sangha members following this breach. Individual sangha members can reach out to the teacher and vice versa, of course, but the institution should focus on care of the survivor and the sangha. This is not neglect of the transgressor but actually appropriate boundaries. The transgressor absolutely should get support, but their support should take place outside the community where they broke trust.
• Provide opportunities for the sangha to process their experiences with clear ground rules and an experienced facilitator. 
• Provide information about the nature of these transgressions and the impossibility for consent. Do not assume that our culture prepares people to understand the nuances of professional boundaries. Proactively educate on this matter, and often.
• Report the transgression to all relevant membership organizations of which the teacher was a part (such as the SZBA or the AZTA in the Zen context).
• Do not ask students to choose sides or declare allegiances. Many students practice with multiple teachers and communities, especially in the age of hybrid or Zoom sits. While the transgressing teacher has (we hope) ceased teaching for an appropriate amount of time, students may be practicing with a range of teachers who have a range of viewpoints on what transpired. While teachers should have clear views on ethical matters and express those views, students should not have to “get in line” behind a teacher in order to be welcome.

Next: Sangha Responses to Misconduct: Keeping the Board Together

Published June 12, 2022

The board of directors is tasked with responding to instances of misconduct. This is likely a time of unprecedented intensity and turmoil, and it can be a challenge for board members to continue working productively together. In addition to their own wrestling with what just happened within their beloved community, board members will inevitably become the targets of intense pressure campaigns from various interest groups within the sangha seeking certain outcomes. How does a board stay together in the face of these and other powerful challenges? One lawyer we spoke with, well-versed in the fallout following a teacher transgression, said they could “count the number of boards who stayed together on one hand.” For this project, we want to share some factors that helped the GBZC Board of Directors continue working together during a crisis, offered from the perspective of the board itself.

• Approaching board service as sacred duty and spiritual practice. We begin every meeting with a sit and then a brief check-in, when we honor how people are arriving. This simple practice grounds us in mutual respect and listening and reminds us that we can invest our full selves in how we approach our responsibilities. There were times we found ourselves saying, “I wish I didn’t have to do these board activities so that I could return to my practice,” after which we would catch ourselves with the reminder that this was the dharma gate, appearing before us.

• Prioritizing relationships. There were many times that we as a board disagreed amongst ourselves, often strongly. When emails could get testy or views increasingly misaligned, we addressed these fissures as quickly as possible with an emphasis on first repairing the relationship. People went on walks together, jumped on videoconference calls for 1:1 conversations, or had regular small-group meetings until the conflict was sorted out.

  Sometimes the best format was that of circle practice rather than discussion or debate. In circle practice, we addressed not just the substance of the concerns but the felt and underlying dynamics of strained relationships. People who were in conflict would speak from the heart, non-combatively, and then be invited to listen as others shared. In circle practice, the goal wasn’t agreement or even decision-making but mutual understanding. We were fortunate that all board members wanted to understand and work together and were committed to this ongoing process. None of these strategies would work if someone had already given up interest in collaboration or had adopted a fixed view.

• Practicing humility. Board members aren’t typically tempted toward arrogance in the way that those in powerful teaching roles can be. The teacher role breeds a certain expectation of deference, which is a systemic liability we want to continue to examine. Board roles, by contrast, are typically more invisible and entail more grueling and thankless activity. This enables board members to see changing their mind or learning new things from others as part of their role, rather than undermining their authority. Taking responsibility for the impact of our actions, regardless of our intent, is a practice of humility and non-defensiveness and was a way to continue to communicate our goodwill to each other.

• Commitment to independence. Empowered by the board, our sangha has been developing a horizontal and dispersed leadership structure, characterized by activity-specific working groups who operate with a great deal of independence in making choices to run the operations of the center. This structure enables people to see each other as acting in service to the sangha, rather than serving as assistants to the teachers. No one on the board saw themselves as obligated to carry out the teachers’ wishes or felt that they were hand-picked by a teacher to do the teacher’s bidding. 

• Commitment to democracy. When operating well, democratic practice can strengthen outcomes. In debate and discussion, ideas get refined, complicated, and recast, with the result that a more nuanced and thoughtful outcome can result. Sometimes a compromise can emerge that demonstrates flexibility on all sides. Democracy is an art and a practice, and it can be done well or poorly. In our best moments, one person’s self-proclaimed “good idea” was then tempered and in some cases debunked by others in discussion. In sanghas where a single teacher’s viewpoint is prized, this opportunity for wholesome challenging and refining is lost, and outcomes are poorer.

• Good fortune. It always helps to have a little luck on your side! The board had the good fortune of having an attorney as a director who had extensive experience in non-profit law and gender justice. This director acted as a counterforce to the relentless pressure to conform to teacher direction. Another director was a skilled facilitator with experience in settling agreements and conducting circle practices and other meetings.

  Additionally, while no board member had lots of “free time” in their schedules, many were able to temporarily reprioritize their lives to dedicate extraordinary amounts of time to this response. Keeping lines of communication open and attending to subtle dynamics while identifying best courses of action while responding to hostile emails and juggling other responsibilities is an incredibly time-intensive and emotionally demanding enterprise.

  Finally, the survivor in our community should get an incredible amount of credit in creating a tone of collaboration and mutual respect. She was a great teacher throughout this process in how to approach challenges with full heart, honesty, and integrity.

• The practice of mutual respect. Our lineage has a practice of “dharma dialogue” or “dharma discussion,” where dharma talks are followed by opportunities for members to come forward with reinterpretations, challenges, objections, their own insights, and so on. In our way, we talk about the dharma talk as merely priming the pump for the full teaching, which emerges when the whole sangha comes forward with our offerings. This model enabled us to see many sangha members as having wisdom and authority, rather than as merely recipients of teacher wisdom. Board members were also formed by this ethic and brought it to our interactions.

Next: Sangha Responses to Misconduct: Atonement Is Part of the Process

Published June 12, 2022