Wŏn Buddhism emerged during one of the most turbulent periods in modern Korean history. Founded by Sot’aesan (1891–1943), the movement developed under Japanese colonial rule at a time of rapid industrialization, political oppression, and cultural assimilation. Following his enlightenment in 1916, Sot’aesan proclaimed the founding motto of Wŏn Buddhism: “With this great opening of matter, let there be a great opening of spirit.” (Chang) As the material world advanced through science, technology, and modernization, he argued that humanity’s spiritual development must advance with equal urgency.
Unlike some Buddhist traditions that emphasized withdrawal from society, Sot’aesan insisted that authentic practice belonged within ordinary life. After students completed intensive meditation retreats, he reminded them that the outside world itself was the “larger meditation hall.” Spiritual cultivation was not an escape from society but preparation for compassionate engagement with it. This conviction shaped Wŏn Buddhism’s distinctive vision of inner transformation as the foundation for social renewal.
Sot’aesan’s teaching developed within the realities of Japanese colonial rule (1910–1945). Religious institutions were closely monitored, and independent religious movements faced suspicion. Under the Temple Ordinance of 1911, Korean Buddhism was placed under state control, while new religious movements were often dismissed as illegitimate. To avoid unnecessary attention, the early Wŏn Buddhist community adopted the modest name Society for the Study of the Buddhadharma 佛法硏究會, presenting itself as a study society rather than a formal religion.
During the 1930s, Japanese colonial policy increasingly sought not only political obedience but also ideological assimilation. In 1934, the governor-general launched the Movement for Developing the Mind-Field (simjŏn kaebal), which appropriated Buddhist language to cultivate imperial loyalty as part of the broader Naisen ittai (“Japan and Korea as one body”) policy. By adopting the Buddhist concept of the “mind-field,” the colonial government attempted to reshape not only outward behavior but also the inner consciousness of the Korean people.
Sot’aesan responded in a remarkably subtle way. In September 1935, he delivered a Dharma talk titled “Cultivating the Mind-Field” (simjŏn kyebal). Although the title echoed the government’s campaign, one carefully chosen character transformed its meaning. The colonial government used kaebal (開發), meaning “development” or “reclamation,” implying that an external authority must shape the individual. Sot’aesan instead chose kyebal (啓發), meaning “awakening” or “enlightenment,” emphasizing the unfolding of the wisdom already inherent within every person.
This single-character substitution reflected two fundamentally different views of human nature. Colonial ideology assumed that people required formation by the state, whereas Sot’aesan affirmed the Mahāyāna teaching that all beings possess buddha-nature. Cultivation, therefore, is not the imposition of virtue but the awakening of what has always been present.
By reclaiming the language of mind cultivation, Sot’aesan quietly emptied the colonial campaign of its ideological content. Without directly criticizing Japanese rule, he redirected attention from imperial authority to wisdom, compassion, ethical practice, and the realization of one’s original nature. This philosophical vision found perhaps its clearest expression in one remarkable relationship.
In 1935, Korean police officer Hwang Ka-Pong 黃假鳳 was assigned to infiltrate the Society for the Study of the Buddhadharma. Hwang’s mission was to discover evidence of financial corruption, sexual misconduct, or anti-Japanese activity that would justify dissolving the movement. He later recalled carrying out his assignment with extraordinary diligence, even climbing walls at night to overhear conversations. Disguised as a lay seeker, Hwang entered the community and introduced himself to Sot’aesan as someone wishing to study the Buddhadharma.
Rather than responding with suspicion, Sot’aesan welcomed him fully. He gave Hwang a student’s robe and treated him no differently than any sincere disciple. When members questioned why he extended such kindness to someone widely suspected of being a government spy, Sot’aesan replied, “What reason would I have for not inspiring him and helping him gain deliverance?”
This response was not strategic diplomacy but an expression of Sot’aesan’s deepest conviction: every human being possesses buddha-nature, regardless of occupation, political allegiance, or personal history.
Over the following years, Hwang lived within the community as both observer and participant. Gradually, his assignment became increasingly difficult to carry out—not because evidence had been hidden, but because none existed. Hwang later identified two experiences that fundamentally changed his perception of the community.
The first involved financial integrity. Although the headquarters lived in poverty, community members carefully kept records of every meal consumed by the officers and presented an exact monthly account. Nothing was exaggerated or concealed. Significantly, the officers themselves were charged for every meal they ate, even though they had been sent to investigate the organization. One might have expected the community to waive the costs in order to curry favor with the very officials responsible for judging them. Instead, they treated the officers no differently from anyone else. For Hwang, this unwavering honesty and impartiality became convincing evidence that the organization was genuine rather than fraudulent.
The second experience revealed Sot’aesan’s own mastery of mind. On one occasion Hwang overheard Sot’aesan firmly correcting several disciples. Expecting to encounter lingering anger, he entered moments later only to find Sot’aesan completely calm and composed. The emotion had arisen when necessary and disappeared without leaving resentment behind. For Hwang, whose experience of authority had always been intertwined with ego and emotional attachment, this was unlike anything he had witnessed. Gradually, the relationship shifted from surveillance to discipleship.
During a summer retreat in 1937, Hwang shaved his head, entered formal practice, and received the Dharma name Ich’ŏn (二天, “Two Heavens”) from Sot’aesan. The name suggested both the coming liberation of Korea and the broader Buddhist transition from the Former Heaven to the Later Heaven. It also quietly replaced his identity as “Officer Hwang” with that of a fellow practitioner.
Sot’aesan’s care extended beyond spiritual instruction. In 1940, he encouraged Hwang to establish an orchard and begin building a stable future for his family. Although Hwang lacked both land and money, Sot’aesan assured him that sincere aspiration combined with communal support would make success possible. Through the assistance of fellow practitioners, Hwang acquired land, secured loans, and established the orchard that became the foundation of his family’s livelihood.
Following Korea’s liberation in 1945, Hwang resigned from the police and formally entered the Wŏn Buddhist Order. Two of his children later became monastics. In his memoirs, he reflected that Sot’aesan’s compassion and personal guidance were impossible to repay, describing them as a profound karmic bond extending far beyond words.
The transformation of Hwang Ich’ŏn embodies Sot’aesan’s understanding of cultivation. The colonial government sought to occupy the human mind through ideological control. Sot’aesan sought to awaken the wisdom already present within it. One relied upon external authority; the other trusted the innate capacity of every individual for awakening.
Today, as societies confront rapid technological change, political polarization, and global uncertainty, Sot’aesan’s founding motto remains remarkably relevant. Material progress alone cannot ensure human flourishing. Lasting transformation requires the simultaneous cultivation of wisdom, compassion, and ethical responsibility.
Wŏn Buddhism therefore understands inner and outer transformation not as separate projects but as a single movement. The larger meditation hall remains the world itself, where awakened minds become the source of compassionate communities and enduring social change.
References
Chang,To-yŏng, Ed. 2017. Tu hanŭl Hwang Ich’ŏn. Iksan: Wŏn Publications.
Sŏ, Mun-sŏng. 2012, March 16. Ilcheŭi t’anabi simhaejida. Wŏn Buddhism Newspaper. Available at https://www.wonnews.co.kr/news/articleView.html?idxno=103327
Yoon, Ki-Yeop. 2020. Colonial rule through the spiritual enlightenment movement of the Chosun-chongdokbu during the Japanese colonial period: Focusing on the Simjeon Development Movement in the 1930s. Won-Buddhist Thought & Religious Culture, 86, 407–439.
Yun, Sungha. 2021. Making a “congregation of a thousand Buddhas and a million Bodhisattvas”: The formation of Wŏn Buddhism, a new Korean Buddhist religion. Doctoral dissertation, University of California, Los Angeles.
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