97. Death & Disaster, Dialog & Dharma I
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Each fifth Sunday, of which there are four per year (unless there is yet another anomaly I do not understand about the common calendar), we hold our version of what is called “dharma combat,” or hossen in Japanese. This exercise is based upon our understanding of how the ancestors of Zen structured their public discourse. Public, that is, in the sense that all members of a temple or monastery were invited to join the dialog. Whether they really went public with it is a matter for historians.
Another term, mondo, which I understand means “crossing of swords,” indicates a brief exchange, like the clashing of two samurai in the days of hand-to-hand combat, now long lost to history in the age of drones, except for the occasional storming of the capitol, much in the news lately as the January 6 committee initiates its prime-time presentations. Hossen is an extended exchange, which lasts longer than the typical clash of two swordsmen.
These exchanges between Zen masters and their students, or between two students training under the same master — that somehow got written down, with rice paper and brush, mind you — constitute a major part of the written record. Some are anecdotal, others evolve into one of the body of illogical riddles attributed chiefly to the Rinzai sect, known as koan or koans in English plural form, kung-an in Chinese. One connotation of the latter is “public case,” which defines the ever-changing koan of everyday life that we are facing in these challenging times.
I decided to focus one of our dharma combat sessions — which should really be disarmed to a less threatening terminology, such as “dharma dialog” — on the recent mass shootings, latest in a long history of illogical events that nobody wants to talk about, but cannot avoid discussing. Like a koan, they challenge our very grasp of reality.
In looking at this problem from both a Design and Zen perspective, the first thing is to try to define it as thoroughly as possible. I reasoned that having an open-ended dialog about it, in the context of a Zen exchange of our understanding of dharma, might bring out the many dimensions of the problem. Compared to responding to the perspective of sincere students of the Way, attempting to articulate the definition of this particular problem on my own might turn out to be a fool’s errand. The following is what I came up with in examining my own reaction, to be amplified by the dialog in due time. The transcription of that focus group will follow in future segments. Let’s enumerate the players.
The human constituents to be examined involve the victims, first and foremost, and their loved ones, the second tier of victims. Then the proximate community of witnesses, the third tier of victims. Fourth, the perpetrators, the shooters, who might be considered victims themselves, in some sense. Fifth, there are the enablers of the perps, those who directly profit from the mayhem, who can hardly be considered victims. Sixth, the onlookers, the vast media audience. And seventh, perhaps the last tier of victims, those running for their lives in other parts of the world, dealing with their own threats from local disasters, natural and man-made, and not helped by this local, disastrous distraction. And, eighth, the larger group of enablers, who indirectly profit from such catastrophes, be it from a financial or political perspective. If I have inadvertently left anybody out, I apologize. Any oversights may become clear in the dialog.
Looking at this koan from a Zen perspective necessarily entails comparisons with a cultural perspective, which is largely theistic, stemming primarily from belief systems of the Abrahamic religions. We see this in the vernacular of such terms as “evil” referencing the perps, references to God’s will, the victims being “laid to rest,” and so forth. Part of the pain suffered by all, amplified by media, is the sheer repetition of the same tropes, and reliance on the same memes, we have witnessed in past incidents. Which have the property of piling on, until the problem seems intractable by virtue of its very familiarity.
In this context I hope and feel that the Buddhist view, as I understand it, may offer some solace, and some promise for a long-term solution to this recurrent tragedy. One of the first memes to be compared and contrasted may be the belief of being “born into sin,” versus birth arising from Ignorance, the first link in the Twelvefold Chain of Interdependent Co-Arising, Buddhism’s model of how things get to be the lamentable way they are. In broaching this comparison of spiritual hypotheses, I am fully aware that we are opening a virtual Pandora’s box, which we may not be able to close again.
Any and all discussions of such events, while emotions are still raw, are fraught with such possibilities. But with these events now occurring weekly, and likely to get worse, it seems we no longer have the luxury of not engaging in the dialog, at least, to begin to define potential solutions, and determine what action we may take, on both personal and social levels. The timeworn expression of good intentions, “to make sure this can never happen again,” begins to ring hollow in the face of the increasing frequency and viciousness of the attacks. So please bear with me. These suggestions are for you to take under consideration in your own view of, and response to, the situation, not as superior opinions.
At risk of repeating myself, let me emphasize once again that Buddhist teachings are not meant to be debated in comparison with other teachings of religion or philosophy, let alone ideology. As Buddha himself is said to have instructed on his deathbed, do not simply take his word for anything, but work out our own salvation. In that spirit we offer alternative ways of thinking, and approaching even the most difficult of traumas that the world has to offer. Again we ask, “What if?” and follow with “If, then…”
If we are indeed born into ignorance, rather than the “original sin” committed by primordial ancestors, then the perpetrators and victims, as well as all observers, proximate or remote, are facing the same problem. The victims are acting out of innocence, simply pursuing their lives in accord with the expectations of families, friends and community. This amounts to a kind of innocent ignorance, simply not knowing that they are, or may be, in danger.
The perpetrators act out of a different kind of ignorance, one that prompts them to turn their greed, anger and delusion — Buddhism’s Three Poisons — into attacks on others, in effect blaming others for their own suffering. Taoism, one of the root sources of Zen in China, is attributed with saying something like, “When the blaming begins, there is no end to the blame.”
What we always see, immediately following the latest atrocity, is the blame-game writ large. Everyone who may be held responsible for the terrible event seeks to deflect blame, citing “mental health,” the parents, the weapons manufacturers, et cetera. The list is truly endless. We all feel complicit to a certain degree. Which brings up one dual pair requiring clarification: complicity versus responsibility.
We can be complicit — which simply means “involved with others,” in a situation without being responsible for what takes place — or culpable, which means “deserving blame.” The degree of culpability is often a matter of closeness to, or distance from, the given event. The trigger man is obviously closest to the crime, but beyond that, it becomes less determinant. The expression, “What did they know, and when did they know it?” becomes determinative in the investigation of the timeline, or the “tick-tock,” the current term of art.
The “motive” of the shooters always becomes an obsession, at least of the news media and officials in the follow-up. In the light of the ever-accumulating history, it becomes more and more obvious that the motive does not matter, if knowing it does not help us stop the shootings. Where the perp is killed, either by himself or others, the main source of information regarding motives is lost, unless they have left a paper or virtual trail, up to and including a manifesto. On the other hand, it seems self-evident that the motives of all or most of these young men are the same: they want to deflect their own rage onto others, and perhaps draw attention or gain fame in the process. In other words, they have no real motive, in any rational sense. This is the basis of the argument that they are mentally ill. If they are mentally ill, the culpability of everyone else becomes a moot issue. But Buddhism would hold that we are all mentally ill, if not to the same degree. The main mental illness is ignorance of the truth, which we all share in common, and which defines the futility of these acts of desperation.
This is where the public “debate” turns ugly, from sympathy for the innocents to the witch hunt for the guilty. One group of well-meaning people will fault the manufacturers and sales distribution of the AR rapid-fire rifles, weapons of war. Others cite the lack of preparation and failures of the policing forces, running down the minute-by-minute timeline. All sides begin to turn on each other, like rats in an overcrowded maze. Accusations fly, complaining that the real root of the problem is elsewhere, as in a recent political opinion, quote, “every time a demented or disturbed individual does this they try to use it to support their radical agenda,” the “they” here being the opposite political party. But it cuts both ways. Either side could make the same statement, equally effectively. This is the definition of stalemate.
The very first of the Grave Precepts of Buddhism, translated variously, is “Affirm life – Do not kill.” Or in some versions, “I take up the way of not killing.” When we consider this objectively and absolutely, it is rendered impossible, of course. This human body has to continuously kill with its immune system, in order to survive. We have to kill in order to eat. But of course we do not have to kill indiscriminately, as in the mass shootings at various public venues, or in shelling civilians in Ukraine. We have to kill selectively, however, in order to maintain our lifestyles, whether in a modern urban setting, or in a tribal setting in the jungle. Death is inevitable, and only a matter of time. Violence is inherent, and only a matter of direction. As the charming political trope puts it, “It depends on whose ox is being gored.”
This winner versus loser mentality infects and underlies much of what is askew in human interactions. In truth we are all winners and losers. We have won the birthright of Buddhism — the potential for awakening — but in the end we inevitably lose this life through aging, sickness and death. So our time available for realizing this insight is severely limited. Meanwhile most of us go through life without even knowing that we have this ability, this capability and capacity to find what we are really looking for, instead of futilely pursuing other fantasies. It is truly pitiable, and applies to all of us equally. This is the wake-up call of Zen. I hope that you hear it in your life, and that all beings will be able to do so eventually.
To be continued.
UnMind is a production of the Atlanta Soto Zen Center in Atlanta, Georgia and the Silent Thunder Order. You can support these teachings by PayPal to donate@STorder.org. Gassho.
Producer: Kyōsaku Jon Mitchell