SEVE N.

POLITICS
MIDTERM ELECTIONS IN AMERICA
T U M U L T A N D G R E E D A N D AV I R I C E A N D H O P E
AND A LOOK INTO THE POLITICS OF THE ZEN HIERARCHY

S ociety is governed by a flawed system that can’t be

fixed, as we are not in the position to do otherwise.
Obvious, as the same results play out everywhere. Dictators
become corrupt, people take advantage, and take as much as
they can.
In The Rebel – An Essay on Man in Revolt, Camus notes, “…
as for the Republic, it stands alone, and morality was supposed
to exist without benefit of the commandments.” The idea
of the Republic depends on an enlightened society. We just
aren’t there yet. A peek inside any religious institution would
show the same governing principles: the dictator, corrupt;
the brown–nose politics — all of it. If these are our greatest
minds, then we have a long way to go. And they are inextrica-
bly linked, government and religion — whatever is said. The
view we have of ourselves as a society: the personality, quality
of life, development of wisdom, compassion — aren’t these
things necessary for a Republic to function? Since there are no
commandments written into law, thankfully, it’s up to the in-
dividual.
I think we should all read more, and take up the practice
of meditation, if you haven’t already. That’s where the revolu-
tion takes place, not by voting for another version of the same
banality.
It’s impossible to be agreeable to the majority without wa-
tering down politics until it’s hardly effective, nearly invisible.
What, other than paying taxes and saying hello to the nice of-
ficer, is relevant to your daily goings on? To be liberated, free,
is our birthright. It can’t be manufactured, but it does require
a great deal of work, all of it internal. How many tormented
souls on this earth! There’s your political environment, the
fabric of society. If we would teach, from the beginning, how
to utilize the brain, how to process emotions — to become the
observer… it isn’t in our dialogue. We can’t digest what we’ve
done because we don’t have the tools for it, or the knowledge.
How does the brain work, when properly managed? What
about emotions in the skilled grasp of an adept? You won’t
see any of these running for office, unfortunately. The work to
control others is the hallmark of an immature psyche, a lack
of trust. It points to the restless desire and endless need of a
soul that has not yet described itself, and so is unstable. This in-
stability can only be remedied internally, through understand-
ing the machine. Ironically, this deep wisdom, when acquired,
gives direct insight into the complex personages we’re sur-
rounded by, and so the control of them becomes ubiquitous.
That’s how I see it, the way civilization will turn, eventually.
Too bad we aren’t born with an innate wisdom, instead pro-
grammed by our environment, and what a poor job we’re do-
ing in that regard! It’s a wonder we aren’t surrounded by homi-
cidal maniacs. But the soul is inherently good, the wellspring
of consciousness dazzling and impeccable.
In a Zen hierarchy, the founder, invariably from Asia, car-
ries the teaching line of previous Zen masters stretching all the
way back to the Buddha. Each Zen master appoints a new suc-
cessor, or several, to continue the line — in the society what
amounts to royalty, those that receive transmission and what
we have today, the 2nd generation who are trying to receive
it. All of the teaching lines were brought over to the West in
the last 50 years. The institutions were built up quickly, many
teachers and Zen masters appointed, and nearly all the found-
ers gone. Inexplicably, there are very few Asian Zen masters
in the world today. We had one shot at it. We have to make
the best of it. What we’re grappling with is a number of half–
formed, half–baked Zen worthies repeating the words of their
founders, struggling to keep their communities afloat, often
forced to work for a living, to raise families — obviously frag-
mented. No time for long retreats or for just being Zen mas-
ters.
The next tier, the Zen monk, is ill–adapted to Western ma-
terialism. It’s difficult for the communities to support them,
as they usually don’t work. Health insurance? Really you need
to be independently wealthy to pull this off, or else live in a
monastery in a Buddhist country. If the monastic community
requires you to work an ordinary job, then it’s little more than
a change of clothes. To add to this, there are no monastic role
models in our culture, and, personally, I find it abject to adopt
another one. As a result there are few monastics, and much
fewer lay practitioners now that the founders have gone.
The dynamism here isn’t toward attaining enlightenment
or pushing toward long retreats, but more of community
building, indoctrination. Some fear that they will become re-
ligious organizations with no enlightened masters at all — or
completely disappear. The teaching devices aren’t the problem.
Zen master Seung Sahn would often say, “I can teach you ev-
erything you need to know about Buddhism in ten minutes.”
You don’t need a large amount of data for this, just an undying
need to penetrate this great matter. If you depend on the com-
munities for your practice, your practice takes on the tenor of
the institution. The same problem with all religions — like our
political arena, they’re watered down, impersonal, ultimately
unsatisfying — and the human mind is not one to remain in
a bland state, so the inevitable climb up the ladder by taking
precepts, passing koans, becoming firmly established with the
teaching society. After a certain point, if there’s no forward
movement — if the candidate doesn’t mesh with the teachers,
isn’t wealthy enough to be a monastic, has no more easy goals
to acquire, then he/she either falls from the ranks or becomes
a potted plant. These dynamics don’t make for an enlightened
society. I fear it isn’t possible, where we are today. If this is so,
then no need to waste time looking to these communities to
provide the whole experience. They are like libraries of human
books who have information that can’t be recorded otherwise.
Politics come into play when the adept has made some
headway, not with the work of meditation (how to gauge it?),
but the good graces of a lineage holder. The same brown–nose
techniques apply here as anywhere, for the new appointments
aren’t based on a quiet reserve, independence, holding no con-
cern for your own affairs, having no self–nature — the very
qualities required for attaining the work of Zen. If you want
the title, then you have to go for it. No one’s going to chase
you down and hand you a Zen stick. It may have been that
way with the founder, who needed to set up a community
very quickly, from nothing. But once you give a human being
power over another — madness. This has nothing to do with
a saint; saints are incorruptible — but a normal human still
possessing an ego, in the sense that he/she hasn’t made the
transition from caring only about their own affairs to caring
about others.
The power comes not only from the lineage, but the se-
cret, the thing you must get that only he/she possesses. The
joke of it is that they have nothing. Anything you attain is from
your own sweat and blood — to the amount, the degree. But
the institution must live, and it survives by these methods, by
instilling hope in successive generations, that they may some-
day wear the gold brocade, that they may know the secret.
How many lives wasted, entangled in this!
I know many adepts who received a title, and there reached
a plateau, never to rise further. In fact, it could be said that their
practice degraded substantially. It’s as if the practice becomes
grounded by position, glamour, whatever that is. What’s the
alternative? Use them as you would a library. Don’t buy the
book. Develop your own practice life, and, if you really want
to finish this great matter, start doing long retreats, both with
a group and on your own. There’s no need to reinvent the
wheel. These institutions have a lot to offer, but I can’t help
feeling the same sort of unease as I watch the various factions
form in American politics today. Don’t drink the Kool–Aid.
There’s no utopian world available. No one is right. Some say
the best we can hope for is gridlock, so nothing gets done at
all. How much government do you need?
***
The sidewalk is hot today, the day after the midterm elec-
tions. The TV was on all night, cable news. There were so
many speeches, opinions; panel after panel dissecting what
promised to be a spectacular defeat by the Republicans, who
nearly all smiled like religious zealots — because they were
right. They were finally getting their piece of it. For the casual
observer, an independent one, it didn’t feel right. It looked like
a cloud of poison gas had leaked into the ventilation system,
causing group hysteria. What exactly did all of it mean? Were
these crazed mutants going to accomplish great things for the
betterment of society? Madness!
The honking sounds from the TV invaded my dreams.
The politicians features exaggerated, they peed in the corners
to mark their territories, threw excrement and bile at each
other; incomprehensible blathering, snorting, scratching the
ground, their toothless smiles gave the same image of terror
that I’d found on the surface — of an ego inflated to incredible
proportions, until the bloated thing became self–aware, began
feeding on its own. The husk of its human skin fell like a tat-
tered flag, the inhuman creatures lifting moth–like wings, fly-
ing softly to their dark caves. I woke feeling that I’d been kid-
napped, the glowering faces on TV all bloodied from the kill.
The lines were long at the feeding trough. I was forced
to stand near the coke machine. There were a lot of thirsty
humans from the heat wave, everyone in a hurry, their faces
washed out, impatient.
“…yeah, that’s 72 please… 72.”
A burst of laughter. It was me. The ice machine was load-
ed from the top with a bucket; the sound of the ice tinkling
together, a torrent. At the far side of the room an older Asian
woman in turquoise held the room perfectly in her piercing
soft gaze, her mouth firm, with the trace of a smile. Some of
us enjoy all of this humanity: the packed conditions, the noise.
I know them on sight, these wise ones. If only she would run
for office. I look up to see about her, and she’s gone.

“I went to one who had the reputation of wisdom… a politi-

cian.. as I talked with him, I could not help thinking that he was
not really wise, although he was thought wise by many, wiser
still by himself. I tried to explain to him that he thought him-
self wise, but he was not really wise; and he hated me, and his
enmity was shared by several who were present. So I left him,
saying to myself, ‘Well, although I don’t suppose either of us
knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than
he — for he knows nothing, and thinks that he knows. I neither
know nor think that I do.’”
– from Plato’s Apology