UnMind 90. Politics & Design — Atlanta Soto Zen Center

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Such a lovely world —
if it weren’t for the people!
Let’s get rid of them.

In the last segment on Precepts & Putin, I finally got around to asking what all these ethical and political issues have to do with Design thinking, pointing out that even such large-scale dilemmas are subject to analysis and problem definition, with design intent being the underlying premise. What kind of intent rationalizes waging war, visiting death and destruction upon fellow human beings? What is the intent behind the design of the defense of Ukraine? Which of these is worthy of admiration and emulation?

Usually we ascribe good intentions to those programs of action designed to yield the greatest good for the greatest number. And usually the politicos profile their cause in those terms. But it seems that the majority of actions ostensibly taken on behalf of something greater than ourselves, upon closer examination, reveal the same old group of benefactors benefitting from corruption and graft, with other groups, such as draftees, conscripted or mercenaries, suffering the negative consequences. Not to mention innocent civilians. Designing around such human faults is the central problem of government.

Hypothetical solutions to international tensions include designing governing systems that will meet the needs of the populace without requiring the acquisition of goods and services, revenue and resources, from others, especially against their will. Setting aside the human motives in prosecuting a war of aggression, which may range from relatively rational impulses, such as gaining access to seaports and land bridges, to fantasies of power and glory, or myths and cultural memes. Self-sufficiency seems to be a worthy aspiration that has fallen by the wayside in a world-around pursuit of ever-greater consumption and materialistic lifestyles. The age-old question of how much is enough, manifested in traditional Zen monastics as limited to seven possessions, and in Design as the self-sustaining systems of minimal life support on the International Space Station. The question of reliability of the replenishment of supplies through a Russian-sponsored program came up as a sideshow of the Ukraine debacle.

So it is self-evident that Design as a problem-solving process has limitations. In cases of widespread madness, which is a known issue in history, but even more acute in an age of global interconnectedness through the internet of satellite-supported mobile media, the most we can do is design our personal response to the continuing crisis. In doing so, we may come up with an approach that has scalability, in other words that is widely adaptable by others. Hunkering down in basements and fortified buildings is the last-resort option we witness the survivors in the cities of Ukraine that are under siege. But we are all under siege, whether we recognize it or not.

During the Cold War we were told that the Soviet Union not only posed the threat of nuclear Armageddon, but actually had designs on invading the USA. I would try to imagine what that would be like. The logic of invading and trying to control something as sprawling and ungovernable as a whole country escapes me. It is now clear that even a small country like Ukraine is not going to be a pushover.

But in the absence of an aggressive incursion ever materializing — knock wood — we are still facing homegrown takeovers of the political system by factions that may not preserve the precious freedoms we have come to take for granted. Behind that wave of anxiety recycling at a frequency of every two years or less — the endless election campaign — we have the threat of another pandemic. And looming over all, on the not-too distant horizon, the emerging, relentless cataclysm of climate change. On what planet do you have to live, to decide that now would be the perfect time to wage a war?

Instead of throwing up our hands in despair, let’s consider the Design approach.

As designers, we are trained to approach development of the new in a systematic way, usually for a client group with fairly clear goals and objectives. One of the fundamental principles of applied design is that we focus our efforts on altering the environment, rather than attempting to alter the people directly, or for that matter, the various members of client organizations. Design stops short at the edge of psychology, or management training, although those systems are also subject to design, in a sense.

Another important principle is that the design process works best when conducted as a dialog, or an evolutionary group process. Methods have evolved for gathering and integrating input from large numbers of “stakeholders” or end-users into the design of any program. In fact, this was the topic of my Master’s thesis at the Institute of Design. Executed well, this approach generally results in more satisfactory, long-lived solutions than an “ivory-tower” approach, where a strong individual or subgroup develops and dictates decisions on design intent with little or no input from the folks they are trying to effect, the end users and purchasers of the product or service.

The process necessarily proceeds in phases, which, while not truly distinct and separate, have rather logical starting and ending points. These are usually defined as something like the following:

Phase I — Problem Definition
Phase II — Concept Design
Phase III — Design Detailing
Phase IV — Prototyping & Beta-testing
Phase V — Production & Distribution

We might be well-advised to look at our daily Zen practice in the light of these phases. While the design of anything new involves creative intuition, insight, and other immeasurable attributes, the process inevitably cycles through some version of these stages, with measurable results based on acceptance of the target market segments. Of course, the whole project often goes “back to the drawing board” — nowadays the computer interface — again and again, for revisions and re-development. In fact, the design process can be said to never be truly final, as it is responsive to ever-changing conditions and needs. This open-ended viewpoint may be frustrating to those who long for instant closure. In that, it is like zazen training. Design is akin to the Zen outlook, which regards nothing so dependable or “given,” as change. Let’s look more thoroughly at the first phase, Problem Definition.

The word “problem” has a somewhat negative connotation. Because in the business environment we generally want to emphasize the positive (business can be a somewhat paranoid context), we tend to use the word “opportunity” instead. Or we will refer to it as “Project Definition.” For our purposes, let's stick with “problem,” at least for now.

What, exactly, is the “problem”? Why do we want, or feel we need, to establish a Zen Center, for example? Why not just practice alone, assuming we've decided we want, or need, to practice? We can point to many teachings of the Ancestors which admonish us that the “real” Zen is not the province of the loner, but is to be found in the “marketplace” in concert and interaction with our fellow beings. We can also point to the practical, enlightened self interest aspects of forming a sitting group: the social and psychological support of the group for the individual, and the sharing of responsibilities, as well as understanding.

As we discussed at length in the “Priest & Householder” segment of the podcast, dana, the practice of generosity, includes providing the conducive environment for practice. Part of that aspect of being truly conducive to Zen practice is the respected tradition of face-to-face training, which has been set aside during the last two years of enforced isolation and social distancing owing to the covid pandemic. As in any creative process, it is natural to challenge any assumptions, including that the in-person form of training may not be necessary. So the stressors around the social dimensions of training — in any area of endeavor, including Zen — become a salient factor in redefining the problem of personal practice.

The haiku poem at the beginning of another segment reads:

Dharma and Karma
Dharma trumps karma,
but it is not an escape —
Consequences come

Some would fault Zen or Buddhism for failing to adequately address larger issues, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death, “…given authority over a quarter of the earth, to kill with sword, famine, and plague, and by means of the beasts of the earth…” Revelations chapter 6, according to Wikipedia, our current Bible, or Tower of Babble, depending on your viewpoint. Add to that the causes and conditions of climate change, covid, and access to nukes, and you have the devil not only in the details, but consequences on a global scale. Great timing for waging a war.

But it is not the fault of Zen Buddhism that we are facing these disasters. In fact, Buddhism teaches this very Dharma lesson, that karma is not individuated but collective. We share karmic consequences of the decisions of our leaders, however benighted. It is their very lack of dharma that is the problem.

It is possible, from the perspective of Design, to anticipate problems caused by human ignorance and willfulness resulting in interventions in the predictability of natural processes, such as climate cycles. It is within the realm of possibility that we can design and build personal sanctuary to survive the worst that Mother Nature can throw at us, in her efforts to bring about a rebalancing of the planetary forces that we have trifled with for the sake of short-term profit, ephemeral power, and self-aggrandizement.

For example, some tried and true approaches can limit the impact of weather upon our domiciles. Such as earth berm housing, covering the shelter with layers of earth to protect and insulate the interior from the elements. Use of unconventional building materials and joining systems can result in earthquake- and hurricane-proof construction, as one of the members of our former affiliate in Charleston, SC specialized in. He and friends rode out Hurricane Hugo in 1989 in one of his buildings, which didn’t lose so much as a shingle. Homes in the direct path of blowtorch-like tornadic winds face a different dilemma, but clearing surrounding forest, controlled brush fires and the like, as Native Americans performed as stewards of the forestland, can mitigate the damage.

Individual householders can take these drastic steps to protect themselves and their properties, if they have the wherewithal and perseverance. Survivalists have historically built bomb shelters and taken other extreme measures, including arming themselves to the teeth, in preparation for the worst dystopian futures imaginable. But the cost is enormous, both in resource investment, and quality of life.

On the other hand, persuading large groups of people, and governments, to forego their wasteful and indulgent lifestyles for the sake of practical adaptation to predictable outcomes of depleting and wasting resources for the sake of short-term goals, is, to say the least, a known issue.

The design of government, in the context of a world economy, where every functioning component is increasingly interdependent with every other — another familiar Buddhist principle — is another seemingly intractable problem. It is the “tragedy of the commons” writ large, where so-called leaders of local government gain power running on platforms of populism or nationalism, playing to the weakness of the people who want to believe that their lives and fortunes are independent of those of the rest of humanity around the globe.

It is apparently even a daydream in the eye of the wealthy that they, or their heirs, can escape Earth to settle another globe, such as Mars, in due time. This is where science fiction meets fantasy. And reality is left to take the hindmost, along with the Devil. Disposable planets.

On yet the other hand, we could adopt a stoic stance of resignation in the face of seemingly insolvable problems, doing what we can on a very local level to prepare for the worst. R. Buckminster Fuller, affectionately referred to as “Bucky,” called his approach “comprehensive anticipatory design science.” The idea is to anticipate emerging problems, causes and conditions — including human survival — on a more comprehensive basis, as predicted by “world-around” trends in resources, technology and behavior. And then, turning the trick, come up with solutions that we will be ready and able to deliver, when everyone else finally recognizes the problem. If it is not already too late, that is.

Fuller also had an interesting take on politicians and their role in this recurring dilemma. Paraphrasing, he said that we turn to the politicians for answers. But if they had any answers they wouldn’t be politicians. They would be out doing something positive, rather than doing their utmost to maintain status quo for themselves, their sponsors, and their constituents.

The latest example is the late Orrin Hatch, who just passed into his next cycle of “rebirth into the cycle of creation of suffering for ourselves or for others,” the last line of the Loving Kindness Sutra. His belief system as a lifelong member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would not allow that notion. A United States Senator from Utah from 1977 — the year we incorporated Atlanta Soto Zen Center — to 2019, Hatch's 42-year tenure made him the longest-serving Republican U.S. Senator in history. Whether that record of feeding at the trough is worthy of emulation I leave to your discretion.

But I urge you to recognize that none of this would surprise Buddha. His teaching was described as his tongue, wide and long. There is nothing so outrageous as to be outside its all-inclusive embrace.