2.1. The Anarchistic Nature of Buddhism
While a thoroughgoing exploration of anarchist principles is beyond the scope of this paper, as a political philosophy it aims for the elimination of unjustified hierarchy and domination, equality in social, political, and economic relations, decentralized decision-making, direct democracy, individual autonomy, voluntary association, and mutual aid. Perhaps it is odd to speak of one of the world’s major religions, Buddhism, in the same breath as one of the world’s most vociferously anti-religious political philosophies, anarchism. As John P.
Clark (
2005) explains, “Almost all the major European classical anarchist theorists opposed religion and defended a secularist, scientific and sometimes positivistic view of nature against what they saw as religious obscurantism and other-worldliness” (p. 49). However, I am certainly not the first to call attention to the overlap and intersections between eastern forms of spirituality and the relatively recent Western tradition of social anarchism whereby individual freedom is viewed as intimately intertwined with ideals of community interdependence and social equality.
As Peter
Marshall (
[1992] 2010) points out, “The first clear expression of an anarchist sensibility may be traced back to the Taoists in ancient China from about the sixth century B.C. Indeed, the principal Taoist work, the
Tao te Ching, may be considered one of the greatest anarchist classics” (p. 54). Early forms of Taoism, such as those offered by Chuang Tzu, articulate a conception of humanity as deeply embedded in and interdependent with a living, natural world. While this sensibility does not apply to all forms of social anarchism, it has certainly been central in the development and articulation of green or eco-anarchism (
Curran 2007;
Hall 2011). According to
Clark (
2005), “Though the specifically political implications of Chuang Tzu’s thought are far from clear, his Daoism has been interpreted as one of the most consistently anarchistic critiques of the domination of humanity and nature and of the egocentric and anthropocentric mentality that underlies domination” (p. 50). Chuang Tzu’s Taoism rails against the human impulse to impose order on a naturally chaotic universe, claiming this imposition of order (read rationalistic, quantitative, mechanistic) is ultimately constraining and sometimes at odds with the workings of natural processes. The Taoism of the
Tao te Ching further foreshadows contemporary anarchism in its disdain for coercion and its inherent trust in the capacity of individuals to manage their own lives without the need for centralized authority and institutions. As the
Tao te Ching states, “I take unattached action, and the people transform themselves. I prefer quiet, and the people right themselves. I do not interfere, and the people enrich themselves” (
Lin 2006). It is well-documented that these sentiments had a strong and lasting impact on the development of a uniquely Chinese take on Indian Buddhism that later came to be known as Chan or Zen (
Hershock 2005).
Since its founding by Siddhartha Guatama 2500 years ago, the core of the Buddhist teaching has been rooted in a deep questioning of the various socio-political orders, ideologies, and forms of human conditioning in which it has found a home. Though the core Buddhist teachings foster this deep questioning, it is important to acknowledge that “Buddhist religious structures in Asia have usually been, and for the most part remain, hierarchical, patriarchal, and complicit with state power. Although Buddhist teachings have sometimes been used to challenge state power, more often than not Buddhist institutions have been implicated in justifying and therefore helping to preserve oppressive social relationships” (
Loy 2003, p. 8). While it is important to acknowledge and grapple with the contradictions between the foundational tenets and lived realities of Buddhist teaching and practice, this paper will focus on the potential ways in which Zen can assist us in thinking anew about and reversing ecological degradation.
In examining the connections between Buddhism and anarchism, John
Clark (
2005) explains that Buddhism “rejected the idea that any authority, whether person or written document, could lead one to truth, and that it must instead be reached by direct personal experience” (p. 51). He goes on to say that “its goal of non-attachment can be seen as an attack on the foundation of political, economic, and patriarchal domination in the desire to aggrandize an illusory ego-self” (p. 52). In some respects, the goal of Buddhist practice is recognizing the illusory nature of the ego and thereby loosening the grip of desire and unhealthy attachment to emotional states, relationships, and material objects, amongst other things. This has significant implications for a philosophy (anarchism) aimed at undermining unequal power relations, enhancing individual autonomy, and promoting mutual aid. Similarly, the Buddhist teaching of
no-self (or anatman) advances awakening to the reality that a solid, unchanging, and permanent self is an illusion. As such, awakening makes untenable feelings of separation and hierarchical thinking and promotes a deep sense of interdependence, mutual connection, and compassion. The Buddha’s teachings around questioning authority, the centrality of direct personal experience of truth (alongside affirmation by an experienced and qualified teacher), overcoming of deeply conditioned habit and desire, and thoroughgoing psychological and ideological freedom/liberation have found their clearest expression in the school that has come to be known as Zen.
2.2. Socio-Cultural Critique Emerging from Zen and Anarchism
Holohan has written elsewhere (
Holohan 2019) about the commonalities and intersections between Zen Buddhism and the Western traditions of critical theory and critical pedagogy that have taken shape over the past 150 years. In that paper, the central concept used to compare the different traditions is suffering; more specifically, what is examined are the ways in which each philosophical system conceives of human suffering, the roots of human suffering, and the approaches by which suffering can be diminished or eliminated. In this paper, a similar approach will be used but focus instead on ‘community’, the basis upon which this idea is defined within Zen Buddhism and social anarchism respectively, how it is undermined in contemporary society, and what is necessary for expanding our notions of relationality and strengthening community. Because we are likely more familiar with anarchist conceptions of relationality and community, these will only briefly be explored before moving into a closer analysis of the terms from a Zen Buddhist perspective. Ultimately, the hope is to highlight the ways in which the Zen tradition might broaden our notions of relationality, strengthen the communities we build, and assist us in navigating the feelings of anger, grief, and despair emerging from our recognition that the fabric of our relations and the communities of life upon which we depend are being driven to extinction by human-induced ecological degradation.
Pulitzer-prize winning poet Gary Snyder and other figures from the American literary movement known as the Beat Generation saw strong parallels between their socio-cultural critique of American post-war society, their anarchist leanings, and their engagement with Buddhism and Zen practice more specifically. Gary Snyder’s 1969 essay “Buddhist Anarchism” or “Buddhism and the Coming Revolution” makes the argument that historically Buddhism has ignored the injustices, oppression, and domination existing in the societies where it has taken root, whereas the social revolutionary movements of the west have largely ignored individual psychology, neuroses, and delusion. Bringing core elements of Buddhist ethics into conversation with the anarchist social imaginary,
Snyder (
1969) claims, would have profound effects. As he explains:
The joyous and voluntary poverty of Buddhism becomes a positive force. The traditional harmlessness and refusal to take life in any form has nation-shaking implications. The practice of meditation, for which one needs only “the ground beneath one’s feet,” wipes out mountains of junk being pumped into the mind by the mass media and supermarket universities. The belief in a serene and generous fulfillment of natural loving desires destroys ideologies which blind, maim and repress—and points the way to a kind of community which would amaze “moralists” and transform armies of men who are fighters because they cannot be lovers.
(p. 91)
Snyder (
1969) goes on to explain that the three fundamental aspects of the “Dharma Path”—wisdom (prajna), meditation (Dhyana), and morality (sila)—could act as a foundation and framework for a free, voluntary, and self-organized collective of individuals liberated from suffering and craving arising from the culturally conditioned ego. Simply put:
Wisdom is the intuitive knowledge of the mind of love and clarity that lies beneath one’s ego-driven anxieties and aggressions. Meditation is going into the mind to see this for yourself—over and over again, until it becomes the mind you live in. Morality is bringing it back out in the way you live, through personal example and responsible action, ultimately toward the true community (sangha) of ‘all beings’.
(p. 92)
In the following, I will expand upon each of these aspects of the Buddhist path and explain how they and other foundational Buddhist teachings can help sustain and advance the development of anarchist communities in an age of social and ecological crisis.
2.2.1. Wisdom (Prajna)
“[Alan] Watts emphasized the need for destruction not of society itself but of the authoritarian mechanism of the ego at the center of the West’s psychic life. The proposal that the ego required decentering, as Watts’s critique of rationalism suggests, struck the very root of Western civic life” (
Brown 2009, p. 222).
From the Zen Buddhist perspective, the ego acts as the nexus for hierarchical systems within the individual psyche and human communities, capitalistic hyper-consumption, the domination of nature, nationalistic ideologies, hyper-individualism, and alienation. Whereas Buddhism has been slower to recognize the ways in which the inherent fragility of the ego has been exploited by contemporary social institutions and formations such as media, marketing, and social group hierarchies, most iterations of Western Anarchism emerging in the late 19th and early 20th centuries have largely ignored the deep-rooted insecurities, fear, and isolation produced by the ego regardless of the social, cultural, or historical context in which it finds itself. The ego is obstructionist and enabler, police presence, judge, and deviant, fearful child and terror-inducing tyrant. Interpersonally, the ego drives us to assess, categorize and analyze, and, ultimately, separates and divides us from anything perceived as separate from us. However, according to Zen, all of this is an unnecessary misapprehension of our original nature.
Simply put, wisdom or
prajna in the Zen Buddhist context is insight into the true nature of reality. This consists of the extra-intellectual and experiential understanding of the universal laws of impermanence, suffering, and no-self or non-duality (
Suzuki [1956] 1996;
Suzuki 1960;
Loy 2019b). However, it would be a mistake to imagine this as a conceptual grasp of these inescapable realities. Rather, Zen aims at a complete integration of this reality into our day-to-day to lives and relationships. A thoroughgoing apprehension of impermanence, suffering, and no-self leads not to disconnection much less apathy but rather engenders what Peter D.
Hershock (
2005) describes as “the personal demonstration of responsive virtuosity and the relational expression of truly liberating intimacy among all things” (p. 79). In other words, wisdom is not a static knowledge, however sublime, but a particular way of functioning in and with the world.
In relation to anarchist communities and community-building, recognition and cultivation of
prajna helps one see through the illusion of the ego and radical separation one feels from the rest of being. Zen teaches this separation and the fear and anxiety it engenders is a way of viewing our relationships rooted in ignorance of the fundamental truth of non-duality and interdependence. Even in communities striving to engender mutual aid, eliminate domination, and foster non-hierarchical relationships, the conceit that ‘I am’ often interferes. Deep prajna, on the other hand, naturally gives rise to a “liberating intimacy” and limitless compassion for all beings. In short, it becomes impossible to put oneself in a position of authority or dominance over an ‘other’ for the other and I are not two. As Kazuaki
Tanahashi (
1999) explains,
The experience of nonduality is the basis for the Buddhist teaching of compassion. When one does not abide in the distinction between self and other, between humans and nonhumans, and between sentient beings and insentient beings, there is identification with and love for all beings. Thus, the wisdom of nonduality, prajna, is inseparable from compassion.
(p. xxxiii)
2.2.2. Meditation (Dhyana)
“In his attempts overcome the illusory Cartesian ego, with its associated post-Cartesian disciplines—lobotomous psychotherapy and mass education—the poet takes refuge in Zen meditation” (Zen of Anarchy,
Brown 2009, p. 229).
Zen is the transliteration of the Chinese word Chan which is the transliteration of the Sanskrit word Dhyana meaning meditation. Thus, Zen is considered the meditation school of Buddhism. In alignment with its name, Zen places central importance upon the practice of meditation in recognizing one’s true nature and cultivating one’s inherent wisdom. Seated meditation, or zazen, is a psycho-physical practice by which one can relax the body and quiet discursive thought, see through the illusion of a separate, independent self, and recognize one’s “original face”. From the Zen perspective, meditation is viewed as indispensable to awakening and this perspective is unique among schools of Buddhism. In fact, these three—meditation, Buddha-nature, and wisdom—are inseparable and mutually support one another. Meditation is a practice which cultivates the Middle Way taught by the historical Buddha; that is, the middle ground between “is” and “is-not”, between cause and effect, mind and matter, self and other, and independence and dependence. Rather than an escape from the world and its ills, Zen meditation has the potential to foster an unfiltered and unmediated presence in the here-and-now.
The noise and clutter are practically incessant—streams, tweets, memes, likes, posts, pics, products, faces, filters, fake news. The act of turning off the devices and tuning out the noise, sitting on the floor and holding oneself up in a state of relaxed awareness, lowering the gaze but not shutting the eyes, and focusing on the ever-present taking in and letting out of air—the practice of zazen is a significant act of resistance in our age of acceleration, distraction, and information saturation. Following the breath or working on a koan help cultivate concentration, awareness, and a lowering of the volume of internal chatter. However, these are merely by-products of the practice. Ultimately, zazen is the functioning of wisdom, the Mind of non-duality. As Robert
Aitken (
1982) explains, those practicing Zen “are concerned with realizing the nature of being, and zazen has proved empirically to be the practical way to settle down to the place where such realization is possible. Zazen is not merely a means…. Dogen Kigen Zenji said, ‘Zazen is itself enlightenment.’ This unity of ends and means, effect and cause, is the tao of the Buddha, the practice of realization” (p. 14).
Tuning into the unity of body and mind and consolidating and focusing one’s energy, the practice of zazen cultivates emotional clarity and deep recognition of the interdependent nature of all phenomena, including the socio-political. The mindful awareness of our inner lives and their relationship to the turmoil that exists in the external world equip us to respond to both with deepened wisdom and compassion. Philip
Kapleau (
[1989] 2000) describes the fruits of diligent zazen this way:
“…the emotions respond with increased sensitivity and purity, and volition exerts itself with greater strength of purpose. No longer are we dominated by intellect at the expense of feeling, nor driven by the emotions unchecked by reason or will. Eventually zazen leads to a transformation of personality and character. Dryness, rigidity, and self-centeredness give way to flowing warmth, resiliency, and compassion, while self-indulgence and fear are transmuted into self-mastery and courage”.
(p. 18)
The qualities cultivated in zazen enable one to quell the flames of material desire fanned by the culture industries, recognize more clearly the roots of social and ecological crises, and discern and engage ethical responses suitable to the challenges confronting humanity. Far be it simply a method for reducing stress and quieting the mind, zazen stands on the front lines of the battle for our inner lives. As described in Peter
Doran’s (
2017) book,
A Political Economy of Attention, Mindfulness, and, Consumerism:
The ‘attention economy’ can be understood as a new arena of struggle in our age of neoliberal governmentality; as the forces of enclosure—having colonized forests, land and the bodies of workers—are now extended to the realm of our minds and subjectivity. This poses questions about the recovery of the ‘mindful commons’: the practices we must cultivate to reclaim our attention, time and lives from the forces of capitalization.
(cover copy)
Ultimately, the wisdom, equanimity and spaciousness cultivated in meditation must be embodied and enacted in the conduct of our day-to-day lives and relationships, and we are not left without guidance in this undertaking.
2.2.3. Morality (Sila)
“The bettering of a general ill begins with the individual, and then only when he makes himself and not others responsible. This is naturally only possible in freedom, but not under a rule of force, whether this be exercised by a self-elected tyrant or by one thrown up by the mob” (
Jung 1968, p. 49; emphasis mine).
Zen has a reputation for exhibiting a certain moral iconoclasm and even of attacking some of the fundamental tenets of the broader stream of Buddhism out of which it flows. There is a long and well-documented history of Ch’an and Zen masters urging their students to abandon all conceptions and inherited understandings of truth, reality, and the nature of good and evil and “to take a step from the top of a one-hundred foot pole” or “to kill the Buddha if you meet him on the road.” These are not necessarily suggestions to abandon morality per se, but rather a challenge to “self-enslaving habits of mind, moral discrimination, [and] ‘picking and choosing’” as impediments to spiritual liberation (
Whitehill 1987, p. 9). These challenges to externally imposed systems of authority, command, and obedience do not carry with them the implication that Zen lacks a moral center. Just the opposite is true. Truly moral behavior is at the center of the Zen teachings and is impossible without diligent practice and the innate wisdom and insight into reality that it uncovers. In fact, the Buddhist precepts, according John Daido
Loori (
1996), “are the definition of the life of a Buddha” (p. 2). While some have interpreted Zen’s iconoclasm, disdain for doctrine, and emphasis on insight into the co-dependent origination of all phenomena (emptiness/shunyata) as evidence of its amoral character (
Hamacher 2012), this could not be further from the truth.
In receiving the precepts (The Three Treasures, The Three Pure Precepts, and the Ten Grave Precepts), one is not only making a commitment to live the life of a Buddha, but also, in the words of John Daido Loori, taking “responsibility for the whole catastrophe”. The moral and ethical teachings of Zen Buddhism are not a system of command and obedience to be rigidly followed or adhered to divorced from the context in which they manifest themselves. The precepts emerge out of prajna wisdom, the interpenetration of all things, the codependency and mutual causality that permeates all phenomenal reality. As such, and from the Absolute perspective, there are no precepts to uphold and no one to uphold them. However, this does not mean ignoring the very real suffering and myriad beings of the world around us; as suffering, the one who suffers, and “I” am not separate, I take responsibility for all of it.
Ultimately, the Zen teachings on morality are an expression of the innate harmony of the world, a harmony that exists in the nature of plants, animals, mountains, and rivers as well as in the nature and life of humans and their communities when not obscured by greed, anger, and ignorance. This harmony is not something we create out of a primordial chaos or corrupted nature, rather through practice (meditation), realization (prajna), and the functioning of that realization (sila or morality) we become one with it and allow it to freely function in and through our lives.