There's never a moment in this world where massive, unimaginable suffering is not present for large groups of people. Not only do we inevitably experience the four human miseries outlined by the Buddha—birth, aging, sickness and death: we also live in a global world united by both information streams and economic processes designed to privilege some regions over another, the rich over the poor, the white over the non-white, the "haves” of any kind over the “have-nots”.
Looking around in this moment, I see the global protest movement roaring in moral outrage over what has been unjustly done to the planet, to large groups of people bound by their racial, ethnic, social, religious and gender identities and to future generations. If I want to be better as an accomplice—not merely a well-meaning ally—to the disenfranchised, whose plight I sometimes share and often don't, my practice of engaged compassion needs to rely on a wealth of inner resources and on clearly outlined “outer” practices that would actually be of help.
Bearing witness to that, I wrote this short and simple list of things for myself to do when yet another shocking event rocks the world—when we are once again reminded that this ship called Earth, as it is, is drowning and desperately needs our collective liberating power to be saved.
One: Cultivate inner resources of mindfulness, wisdom and compassion
I am merely a drop in a sea of interdependence, sure—but my actions of body, speech and mind ripple out, and I can at any point apply my energy to communal action that might bring about greater awareness, greater responsibility, and, eventually, actual change.
To do that, I need to have the inner resources, and that’s where mindfulness (either in its popular form or as described in the more traditional Buddhist teachings), compassion, loving kindness and wisdom (simply put, an exceptional level of common sense—common sense with regards to global interdependence, to causes and effects, to interpenetration of structures and events) are crucial. I need to have these tools—easily available these days, if we are willing to learn—lest I fall prey to burnout.
I also need the beautiful tools of joy—joy brought about by simple acts of self-care, the empathetic joy of seeing others happy, the act rejoicing in other's virtue. I need the joy brought about by my daily meditation and by the aspiration prayers that I, as a Tibetan Buddhist monk, recite every day. Combining all of these, I can show up for myself and others in more compassionate ways—knowing that this preparation is not done for myself alone. It’s part of the common good that I need to pursue.
Two: Bear witness to suffering and to hopes of liberation
Speaking on the reason for why Buddhists meditate on the suffering of others (including different kinds of sentient beings), one of my teachers gave a simple analogy. It is deeply terrifying, they said, when a child is abducted; but what's more terrifying is if no one even knows of the crime: there’s no one to remember, to keep looking, to care.
Geographically, socially, economically—no matter how removed I am from the plight of others, if I hear of it, I try not to turn away. I try to follow the example of the Dalai Lama who follows the daily news intently, listening to the radio in his small house and contemplating the fates of humanity: the complex web of interdependence. I try to be like the earth, which, when called upon by the Buddha-to-be on the verge of his awakening, rose up to say: I bear witness. If I ever want to bear witness to liberation, right now I need to open my eyes and bravely see the suffering of others and their wish for freedom.
Three: Roar for others
The voices of those who suffer can't reach far on their own—but they can be amplified. We all have a platform, however small or big. Just like our body and our mind, our speech—actual, printed, or digitally-enhanced—is a tool, and while it is often hijacked by our afflictions, it can be a tool of compassion and wisdom. If I can convey accurate information on the suffering of others, I will try to do so. I will speak to friends, use my social media channels and (as a teacher) incorporate my ever-deepening knowledge of what’s going on into my Dharma talks. Depending on your professional and social background and your circles, you can do the same in many beautiful ways.
Roaring on our own is not enough, however: we have to confidently demand accurate coverage by media outlets and people with greater platforms than ours. We won't always succeed, but sometimes things will come through. There are many factors at play, from journalist integrity (or lack thereof) to personal connections and affinities. Through a complex net of interdependence, our roar will sometimes get amplified—and if it hasn't yet, we patiently keep building the causes.
For me, this point brings to mind an episode from the Bible. Jesus enters Jerusalem, a large crowd of disciples praising him. A few Pharisees in the crowd—sometimes reimagined as the local powers-that-be—demand that the shouting stops, and Jesus answers by saying “If they keep quiet, these stones will start shouting.” I sometimes think: if my voice is silenced, I want others to be the stones that keep shouting for me. When they can’t roar, I will roar for them.
Four: Don’t use whataboutism to diminish the plight of others
Nothing good ever really comes about from diminishing the suffering of one group by sarcastically referring to another and saying "Well, you never cared about that!” Instead, we can use the situation as an eye opener: "Well, a similar thing is happening in this region, to this group, or to that person. Let's jointly care about both and then expand our circles of empathy and compassion further”.
I also often see a wish to shame others into caring arising within myself, and most often I am able to resist it (not always, of course—work in progress). I do know that when shamed, people most often simply get defensive. When fight or flight mechanisms kick in, little constructive discussion can happen. I can be persistent and clear about things that matter without directly attacking those not currently wiling to listen—I need to trick them (being wise as a serpent—thanks again, Jesus!) by both providing relevant information and being a strong example of mindful citizenship.
Five: Give resources, time, attention, money, food, and company
Signing petitions and sharing news is important—both are expressions of our conative function: our ability to desire, intend, aspire. We don’t want to fall into clicktivism, however: the illusion of action done by merely sharing a picture or clicking on a petition. All of us also have some resources of attention, time and money. We can donate a dollar (or much more, for some of us), an hour of volunteer work, a few minutes of empathetic listening. Ideally, I try to do all of these and more.
One great way to give resources is to actively learn about the issue, using our “beginner’s mind” as a springboard to greater clarity. For instance, what do I, as a male-identifying practitioner, really know about the plight of women and non-binary/gender-queer folk? Not much, but I can and want to learn more. When I can’t pick up a big book (describing the suffering from the first-person perspective, ideally), I can at least start with some TED talks. When I can't give millions, I can still sincerely give something and wish for more to follow.
Six: Privilege voices of the oppressed
Unless you are a billionaire yourself, you win nothing by defending them against greater taxation. You also win nothing by defending by companies (it doesn’t matter that you like your iPhone or your t-shirt—any company still needs to be endlessly pressured into adopting better business practices).
No good comes about from objecting to greater freedoms and systems of social security for the disenfranchised, from objecting to dreams of free education and free healthcare, to demands for gender equality or greater safety for people with different embodiments.
Simply put, we have spent long enough sticking up for the ridiculously rich and insanely unethical oligarchies—and it brought us nowhere. We have scented candles, social networking and Netflix, and that's about it—what a ridiculous thing to pay for with planetary destruction and human oppression.
Now we need to use our attention (and our platforms) to actually hear those systemically oppressed—including the planet itself, its disappearing species and its defenders.
Seven: Apply relentless pressure
We all know washing plastic containers and recycling is very important, but what's more important is changing the very rules of the ecological game. That—and any other major change—can only be brought about by applying relentless pressure on all the nuts and bolts in the systems of power.
On election days, that means voting for the least evil; on all the other days it means pressuring those in positions of power to actually care and do what’s right—dismantling systems of oppression, building systems of safety and support.
In most cases, this pressure demands unionising and creating grass-root pressure groups—and that's what we need to do with a lot of dedication to dialogue and collaboration (knowing these are also technical skills to learn). No individual voice is completely powerless, either. Some of us have disproportionate levels of privilege that can be used for everyone's good—by pushing against the grain.
Eight: Aspire, aspire every day
Tibetan language has two main words commonly translated as "prayer". While one, soldeb, primarily implies a request for transformative inspiration (often worded as “Inspire/bless my mind to…”), the other one, monlam, literally refers to a sequence of aspirations: simply put, a line of thoughts directed towards greater good for all beings. There are numerous aspiration prayers in Buddhism, all of them drawing on our ability to desire and intend—and all of them affecting our habitual perception of the world, our actions and the overall interdependence of things. “Everything exists on the tip of a wish”, as one Buddhist teacher puts it.
Right now I might have little power to change many situations in the world, little chance to disrupt systems of violence on my own or even together with other people. But strategies and resources only come about when there's a vision. Knowing that, I start and end all my days with a strong wish: may I do no harm, may I bring benefit, and, through cultivating my mind’s resources, may I eventually bring the great freedom to all. Through this wish, I have seen an increase in my ability to help—and I am constantly aspiring to serve more
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