Violence in reality is quite different from theory.
Spock, “The Cloud Minders” (s3ep21), stardate 5818.4
The fantastic history podcast, Grey History, had an episode covering a dark period of the French Revolution: the September Massacres of 1792. When I listened to this episode recently, I was struck by how barbaric and senseless the violence was. The people of Paris were gripped with paranoia and fear over the arrival of the Prussian army, and whipped themselves up into a frenzy which then unleashed itself on prisoners of Paris who were all assumed to be part of a counter-revolutionary conspiracy. The eyewitness accounts of the event were horrifying.
What led up to the September Massacres was, from my limited understanding, a kind of death-spiral of paranoia and factional fighting among the Revolutionaries. This paranoia had some basis, in that there were some French counter-revolutionaries, but most of it was just imagined conspiracies of “fifth column” elements in society that got more and more outrageous and dire. As different factions accused one another more and more of conspiracy with the counter-revolution the violent rhetoric ratcheted up until someone decided to take matters in their own hands….
Rhetoric is one thing but once the first blow lands, or the weapon is drawn, a point of no return is crossed and many will needlessly die.
“Trouble can be purchased cheaply, though the refund may be more than you can bear.”
Roger Zelazny, Creatures of Light and Darkness
You speak of courage. Obviously you do not know the difference between courage and foolhardiness. Always it is the brave ones who die, the soldiers.
Kor, the Klingon Commander, “Errand of Mercy”, (s1ep26), stardate 3201.7
In short, small comments can have lasting consequences. That’s why the Buddha taught that right speech should be timely, true, and worthwhile. If not, best to simply keep quiet.
Further, studies have shown that non-violent demonstrations are statistically more effective in bringing about social change.
So, while social justice is a worthy goal, the means of achieving it, and how one expresses dissastisfaction can have lasting effects.
Lately, I’ve been enjoying a fantastic history podcast called Grey History, covering the French Revolution in detail. While enjoying this show I started thinking about a famous peasant uprising in medieval Japanese history called the Ikko-Ikki rebellions of the 16th century.
The Ikko-Ikki rebellions are remarkable as being the one time in pre-modern Japanese history where a peasant uprising not only succeeded, but successfully carved out a region of Japan that was ruled by the masses, not by military samurai, nor the old aristocracy from Kyoto. The binding influence of the uprising was a strong affinity to a certain Buddhist sect, the Jodo Shinshu (浄土真宗, “True Pure Land Sect”), but there was more to the Ikko-Ikki than a “rebel cult” as some labeled them.
Information in English about the Ikko-Ikki is sparse, and often misinformed. I am happy though to have obtained a copy of Dr Carol Tsang’s excellent book War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (publisher link), covers the Ikko Ikki, who they were, and their relation to the Jodo Shinshu sect. It’s been a fascinating read even for an old “history nerd” like myself.
This post is part two of three exploring the Ikko Ikki, of which part one is here. We can’t talk about the Ikko-Ikki until we cover the life of the 8th-generation Caretaker (monshu, 門主) of the Honganji mausoleum: Rennyo.
I originally intended to do only two posts, but as I wrote this one I realized there was too much interesting detail, and now it has split into three.
Enter Rennyo
As we saw in part one, Jodo Shinshu had somewhat unorthodox origins as a fully lay-oriented sect of Buddhism, through the work of Shinran in the 12th century. Shinran like many disciples of Honen, had been exiled and defrocked. Shinran took this in stride, married, and continued to spread the Pure Land Buddhist teachings he had learned from Honen to provincial people until we returned from exile and died in Kyoto.
His mausoleum (later called the Honganji temple) was managed by his descendants for generations. Like other families in medieval Japan (and other medieval societies), marriages by Shinran’s descendants were arranged to help benefit the family political, economically, etc. These descendants managed the mausoleum, while also building powerful alliances with samurai clans, or influential disciple families in the provinces. Some even married into the aristocracy in Kyoto. Shinran’s various disciples in the provinces went on to found various sects of Jodo Shinshu, while the Honganji remained significant, but not very influential.
By the time of the disastrous Onin War in the 15th century, Rennyo (蓮如, 1415–1499) had been born to the 7th generation caretaker Zonnyō (存如, 1396–1457).1 His mother was of unknown origin, but it is thought that she was a maidservant of Zonnyō, and thus politically risky. She was sent away, and Zonnyō married a woman named Nyoen from an influential family. Rennyo and his step mother did not get along well, and suffice to say, there was a succession struggle between him and Nyoen’s son, but Rennyo won out in the end thanks to the powerful Hino clan (the same clan that married into the reigning Ashikaga Shoguns). Rennyo had also, as per tradition in the family, spent time training at Kofukuji temple in Nara, and could claim some tenuous connections to the prestigious Fujiwara clan through the Kujō cadet branch.
As Jodo Shinshu grew in influence, problems between the community in his native province of Ōmi, near Kyoto, and the powerful Tendai sect arose. Ostensibly, this was due to perceived heresies by the Jodo Shinshu sect, but there’s plenty of evidence that the Tendai sect viewed the growth of Jodo Shinshu as an impact to their fiefdom revenue. Before long, armed conflict with the Tendai sects warrior-monks arose, and the Jodo Shinshu community suffered greatly. The community attempted to fight back, organizing defenses (a forerunner to later Ikko-Ikki armies), bribing the Tendai sect to back off, etc, but the Tendai persisted.
Ministry At Yoshizaki
Bronze statue of Rennyo at the remains of Yoshizaki Gobō temple. Photo by 藤谷良秀, courtesy of Wikipedia.
Rennyo decided it was safer for everyone involved for him to leave, and eventually he retreated to a remote village named Yoshizaki (吉崎) in the province of Echizen in the year 1471. Yoshizaki had a number of advantages, including a large, existent community of Jodo Shinshu followers, distance from Tendai-sect centers of power, and political remoteness, and yet it was on a coastal trade route so it was prosperous too. Soon a temple, now known as Yoshizaki Gobō (吉崎御坊) was founded the same year. The official website (Japanese only) for Yoshizaki Gobō has some neat photos and illustrations, though bear in mind that the original temple was destroyed 1506, and reconstructed centuries later.
It was here that Rennyo and his proselytizing work really took off.
For context, Shinran the founder (and Rennyo’s ancestor) had lived in exile in the eastern provinces and spent much time there teaching the Pure Land am faith as he understood it. Even after he was pardoned and returned to Kyoto in his final years, the communities out in the principles (i.e. his disciples) continued for generations, each in isolated pockets. These communities grew and diverged gradually, but were always more numerous and influential than the Honganji branch under Rennyo’s ancestors.
Thus, when Rennyo showed up, things were a little tense. A major regional sect was the Takada sect (shinshū takadaha, 真宗高田派) which still exists today. I spent a weekend trying to figure out how the Takada sect’s version of Jodo Shinshu differed from the Honganji sect, but couldn’t really find any “ah ha” moments. They both revere Shinran, both recite the nembutsu, both revere Amida Buddha, etc., so the differences feel like they are mostly administrative and liturgical. Jodo Shinshu without the Honganji, in other words. The question, it seems, was basically who had the final say on doctrinal matters.
Rennyo’s Letters
Rennyo was a very active letter writer and these letters (ofumi, 御文) were instrumental in helping to strengthen and clarify the message and build relationships with local communities. I’ve talked about the most famous letter, the Letter on White Ashes, before, but I can say with personal experience that Rennyo’s letters overall are quite good and helpful in clarifying Jodo Shinshu teachings. You can find a collection of them here. I highly recommend reading the letter On Pilgrimage in the Snow (number 6 in the link above).
Side note: these letters (formally called the gobunsho 御文書), were compiled by later generations and are now an important part of Jodo Shinshu liturgy. When my mother-in-law passed away, and we attended her first year memorial in Japan, our local priest (a family friend) recited the Letter on White Ashes, after we recited Shinran’s hymn, the Shoshinge. That’s how important they are. You can see an excellent example of this here on Youtube:2
Within years, Yoshizaki grew to a much larger community, and Rennyo clashed with other existing Jodo Shinshu sects, while also reforming liturgy and standardizing aspects of the faith. Much of these power struggles at the time had as much to do with politics as they did doctrine.
For example, the aforementioned Takada-sect was allied with one Togashi Kōchiyo warlord who was in a bitter feud with his brother Togashi Masachika. The battles for rulership of Echizen and Kaga provinces spilled over into Yoshizaki when the defeated Masachika showed up to recruit members and rebuild his forces. Thus a local ikkō-ikki was formed to assist him.
As we’ll see, this was only the beginning …
P.S. I posted this too early on accident. Please enjoy, and apologies for any typos.
1 random and useless factoid – Rennyo was alive during the final days of the Eastern Roman Empire, and roughly contemporary with its final ruler, Emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos. Of course, Japan and Constantinople didn’t really know of one another. Still, it’s weird to think how both historical events were going on roughly at the same time.
2 The language of the gobunsho letters feels archaic now to a native Japanese speaker (or a language nerd like me), but at the time, this was how people spoke, and thus it was very accessible compared to more formal texts that monks in monasteries wrote.
Lately, I’ve been enjoying a fantastic history podcast called Grey History, covering the French Revolution in detail. While enjoying this show I started thinking about a famous peasant uprising in medieval Japanese history called the Ikko-Ikki rebellions of the 16th century.
The Ikko-Ikki rebellions are remarkable as being the one time in pre-modern Japanese history where a peasant uprising not only succeeded, but successfully carved out a region of Japan that was ruled by the masses, and not by military samurai, nor the old aristocracy from Kyoto. The binding influence of the uprising was a strong affinity to a certain Buddhist sect, the Jodo Shinshu (浄土真宗, “True Pure Land Sect”), but there was more to the Ikko-Ikki than a “rebel cult” as some labeled them.
Information in English about the Ikko-Ikki is sparse, and often misinformed. I am happy though to have obtained a copy of Dr Carol Tsang’s excellent book War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (publisher link), covers the Ikko Ikki, who they were, and their relation to the Jodo Shinshu sect. It’s been a fascinating read even for an old “history nerd” like myself.
This post is part one of two three exploring the Ikko Ikki, but before we talk about the rebellions, we need to cover some Jodo Shinshu history. Speaking as someone who was part of the Jodo Shinshu community for a long time, and also a history nerd, Jodo Shinshu’s history is … different.
The Jodo Shinshu Sect
The Jodo Shinshu sect was one of several Buddhist sects that arose during the Kamakura Period of Japanese history (12th-14th centuries) as a kind of backlash to the Buddhist establishment at the time, and their close association with the ruling aristocracy. Starting with my favorite monk, Honen (法然, 1133 – 1212), a populist Pure Land Buddhist movement took shape, filling a gap that was missing in Japanese society at the time. To be clear, Pure Land Buddhism was not the only new Buddhist movement at the time: we see Nichiren Buddhism and new Zen sects imported from China as well. However, the Pure Land movement was much more widespread in comparison.1 Under Honen this movement was diverse, widespread, and loose-knit comprising of peasants, nobility, and clergy.
However, it was not to last.
The Pure Land Buddhist movement was punished by the Emperor in the Jogen Persecution of 1207 (承元の法難, jōgen no hōnan), and the community was scattered across many parts of Japan and its monks defrocked. Not unlike the many disciples of Socrates in classical Greece,2 these disciples each had their own recollection of Honen’s teachings, and since they were now living different provinces of Japan, individual sects and communities arose.
Jodo Shinshu – started by Shinran and the subject is this post.
“Single Nembutsu” teaching – started by Kosai (who was later denounced by Honen), but quickly faded.
“Many Nembutsu” teaching – started by Ryukan, but also petered out later.
Ji-shū – started by Ippen, who was not a direct discipled of Honen, but a disciple of Shoku’s disciple.
…. among other groups.
As we can see, Shinran (親鸞, 1173 – 1263) was one of these disciples.
A portrait of Shinran, founder of Jodo Shinshu, from the 13th century. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.
According to some scholars, Shinran had been a mid-level disciple of Honen. When he was defrocked and sent to Echigo province he broke precedence, famously declaring that he was neither priest nor laymen. He then took a wife, and fathered children.
Shiran was not idle though. He was a prolific writer and teacher, spreading Honen’s message (as he understood it) to people in his province. After the exiles were pardoned, Shinran returned to Kyoto with his daughter Kakushin-ni (覚信尼, 1224-1281?) who cared for Shiran until his last days. Shinran spent his time in the capital still teaching, writing hymns and letters. When he passed, he left behind a large community of disciples in the provinces, and Kakushin-ni helped establish a mausoleum for her father in Kyoto. The ownership and maintenance of this mausoleum (later called the Honganji temple) was complicated, but it seems to have been a shared model between the disciples and supporters in the provinces, and Shinran’s descendants.
In time, Shinran’s grandson Kakué (覚恵, 1239 – 1307) assumed the role as caretaker of the mausoleum, the monshu (門首), after Kakushi-ni. Kakue passed on this hereditary role to his son Kakunyo (覚如, 1271 – 1351) and from here the role of Caretaker/Patriarch fell to successive descendants of Shinran even to this day. However at the time, the Honganji mausoleum was not very influential, compared to provincial communities. In time, that would change.
The “Karamon” gate of Nishi-Honganji (West Honganji) Temple in Kyoto, Japan. In the Edo Period, well after events here, the Honganji temple split into two separate temples and lineages due to strife between two brothers: east and west. Photo taken by me in 2010, hence the graininess (old camera phone). The Nishi Honganji temple website has excellent photos.
In any case, Jodo Shinshu from its outset was a firmly lay-Buddhist sect, the first in Japanese history. It was somewhat decentralized and had no monastic institution whatsoever. Other competing Pure Land sects listed above, were founded by monks, and still maintained some form of monastic institutions (some more than others) by contrast.
In the case of Jodo Shinshu, its local communities were organized by lay priests, peasants and craftsman who like Shinran worked and raised families. They organized religious gatherings in small dōjō (道場) rather than formal temples. A dojo in this context could be a room in someone’s home, or a communal space. A network of temples arose over the generations to oversee the various dojo, but early Shinshu communities started out small and informal.
This remained the state of the community for generations up through the Ikko Ikki rebellion.
The Warrings States Period and the Ikki Rebellions
Fast-forward about 200 years since Shinran and Honen. By this point in Japanese history, the reigning Ashikaga Shoguns have become permanently weakened by the disastrous Onin War, and social order was rapidly breaking down as rival warlords who had nominally supported the Ashikaga family, now fought one another for control of Japan. Technically, the Ashikaga still ruled a small region around Kyoto the capital, but the rest of Japan was rapidly descending into all-out war which lasted for another 100 years: the Sengoku or Warring States period (mid-15th through 17th centuries).3
A mural depicting a battle during the Onin War, by Utagawa Yoshitora, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Japanese society at this time had been a feudal, militaristic society. The various domains and provinces had been managed by the Ashikaga Shogunate through a complex web of grants, appointments, and negotiations. Much like medieval society in Europe, the feudal order of Japan was complicated and full of political tension between the Church (i.e. the old Buddhist orders), local land-owning warlords, and peasants who were compelled to work the land in various arrangements. Similar to medieval England at the time, peasants were not all one social class. Many were modestly successful like the English yeoman, while others were saddled with ancestral debt and had to work the land they rented from their landlords (military or Buddhist temples) like European serfs. Other peasants were part of artisan communities that formed associations that might be vaguely compared to European guilds.
A portrait of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, formerly a peasant soldier, now the overlord of Japan and regent of the Emperor in 1598. Painting by Kanō Mitsunobu (狩野 光信, 1565–1608), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Further, the distinction between samurai and peasant wasn’t so clear-cut as it would be in later generations. A low-ranking, provincial samurai or jizamurai (地侍) worked the land and sold goods just as peasants did, though they also had certain obligations to their liege lord, and enjoyed patronage and influence as a result. Even the famous Hojo no Yoshitoki worked his own land (at least some of the time).
Meanwhile, wealthy and powerful land-holding peasants could command local military resources when the needs for mutual defense arose, or lend them to the local warlord if needed, in return for some arrangement. Such peasant soldiers were often called up by local samurai as ashigaru (足軽) foot soldiers. Even the great Toyotomi Hideyoshi once started this way before eventually claiming dominion over all of Japan.
So, while there were social classes, they were fluid, and the boundaries were vague. A low-level jizamurai and a powerful peasant weren’t all that different. In the end, it was a “might makes right” environment.
Thus, in this fast, fluid and shifting environment, communities or like-minded people would form an ikki (一揆), which was a society founded for one single purpose. According to Dr Tsang, ikki were often formed in a ceremony where the participants would gather at a religious site, sign a contract vowing to accomplish their stated aim, burn the contract, mix the ashes into water, and drink it together. The pact was thus sealed in the most solemn of manners.
But why form a society like this?
Local samurai, especially if they had familial ties, might found an ikki promising one another mutual aid and defense. Peasants of a village might form an ikki to push the government for tax relief. An ikki formed in 1428 was large enough to march on Kyoto and burned down debt owners and tax-collecting tolls, for example.
The Ikko ikki (一向一揆) specifically were formed by those who subscribed to the Jodo Shinshu sect, which was also called the Ikkō (一向) sect at the time. The term ikkō referred to their singular reliance on Amida Buddha (lit. all facing one direction: toward Amida and the Pure Land). Ostensibly these followers formed an ikki for mutual defense but soon grew to challenge the most powerful warlords of the era.
With the rise of Shinran’s descendant Rennyo, the ragtag societies grew into a powerful army that even warlords like Oda Nobunaga were unable to defeat. We’ll see more of this in part two.
Stay tuned!
P.S. These longer historical posts take some time to write (let alone proofread), so I may be delayed in posted part two.
1 The rise of the opposing Nichiren sect is an interesting aspect of Japanese-Buddhist history, but it’s out of scope here, and was somewhat smaller in scale. Dr Tsang’s book does point out that there were Nichiren Ikki groups, too, in later ages.
2 Socrates left behind no writing (unlike Honen who was a prolific writer), but his disciples such as Plato and Xenophon described
3 The “sengoku” name was borrowed from a much earlier, though equally fascinating, period of Chinese history. The Warring States Period of Chinese history should not be underestimated in terms of influence too, because many strands of Chinese political philosophy arise from this period, as various thinkers tried to grapple with the collapse of social order, and the debauchery and degradation of the times. These same ideas later had a profound influence on later Asian culture, and the world at large.
DROXINE: But what else can they [the Troglytes] understand, Mister Spock? SPOCK: All the little things you and I understand and expect from life, such as equality, kindness, justice.
Star Trek, “The Cloud Minders” (s3ep21), Stardate: 5818.4
This is another one of those deepthoughts I’ve been having lately. Discrimination and bias once again rear their ugly heads in our society, and it’s really disheartening. It’s as if we’ve made so little progress after all these generations, struggles, achievements and so on.
It also makes me wonder something: how much of this discrimination is taught, and how much of it is ingrained? In other words: nuture (taught) versus nature (ingrained). Are some people just born inherently more xenophobic, or does the environment cultivate a more heightened sense of identity at the expense of others? Are we still just mostly hairless apes, fighting over more sophisticated tribal forms, or does our human nature give us the power of reason to override this?
Anyhow, the reason why I posted the Star Trek quote above is that I think what Spock says is true: discrimination and xenophobia are self-centered, and the opposite of goodwill. If a person has empathy and puts themselves in the shoes of another, it’s a lot hard to discriminate against them.
An illustration of the Buddha, Shakyamuni, placing his hand gently on the head of an elephant that had been riled up by his cousin Devadatta, to trample the Buddha out of spite.
In the venerable Buddhist text, the Karaniya Metta Sutta (Sn 1.8 of the Pali Canon), the Buddha says simply (emphasis added):
Whatever living beings there may be; Whether they are weak or strong, omitting none, The great or the mighty, medium, short or small, The seen and the unseen, Those living near and far away, Those born and to-be-born — May all beings be at ease!
Translation by The Amaravati Sangha
The Buddha didn’t equivocate: goodwill towards others must be equitable, and toward all.
Still, this is, admittedly, easier said than done: developing such a level of goodwill takes work, introspection, and such. For some, their sense of goodwill and empathy towards others is somehow stunted, or in some cases completely absent. If it were easy, why don’t we all just be kind towards others?
I think this is where our biological nature gets in the way sometimes. As hairless apes, our basic instinct is to still fight and defend, even if the specific causes of conflict are different than our ancient ancestors. The way our blood gets boiling when we’re competing with someone, or someone makes us mad is no accident. That’s evolution. But, at least through introspection and mindfulness, we can catch these feelings as they arise and make intelligent decisions. Breaking out of our own self-centered viewpoint is what it’s all about, and is one thing that separates us from other animal lifeforms.
Suffering is endemic to this world, whether it be a stripper hustling just to make $20, refugees who lose their homes, or soldiers fighting to defend their homeland, or children who are simply neglected and unloved.
If you stop to think about all this suffering, pain and misery, it’s completely overwhelming, heartbreaking.
Even if you had all the money in the world, and give it away, it provides only temporary relief. If you held all the power in the world, you could only affect so much change. Worse, you might fall into hubris.
From the game Fire Emblem: Three Houses
I think this is why the Buddha-Dharma is so helpful.
Photo courtesy of the Yomiuri Shimbun newspaper. This is the fumetsu no hōtō (不滅の法灯), the “Unextinguished Lamp of the Dharma” at Mount Hiei.
A candle flame doesn’t seem like much, but in a very dark place, that candle flame really stands out.
The majestic light of the Buddha Amitāyus is the most exalted….If, sentient beings encounter his light, their three defilements are removed; they feel tenderness, joy and pleasure; and good thoughts arise. If sentient beings in the three realms of suffering see his light, they will all be relieved and freed from affliction. At the end of their lives, they all reach emancipation.
The Immeasurable Life Sutra, translation by Rev. Hisao Inagaki
I often think about the old stories of Honen, the 12th century monk who spread the Pure Land teachings in Japan. It was a time of rampant disease, warfare, and income inequality. Honen couldn’t fix any of these things but he taught a simple message to any who wouldlisten. If nothing else, it gave hope and a sense of direction in a directionless world.
A multilingual sign posted at the front of Chion-in Temple in Kyoto, Japan.1
Sometimes, small, sincere gestures of kindness can be the best help of all.
This is a path toward closeness with Chion-in Temple. That is to say the path for encountering Master Honen. It is also a path for receiving the teachings of the nembutsu. One receives the compassion of the Buddha, regardless of age or gender, a path that leads to a bright, upright, affable life. A path that heals weariness, reveres life, leads to sincere joy; this is that path. A path of Compassion.
In Ukrainian via Google Translate:
Дорога до улюбленого храму Чіон-ін. Це шлях до зустрічі з Хонен-самою. І шлях до отримання вчення Нембуцу. Шлях, який веде до людей різного віку, чоловіків і жінок, які живуть яскраво, праведно та гармонійно завдяки мудрості Будди. Шлях, який дозволяє зцілити втому життя та насолоджуватися гідністю та радістю життя. Ось цей шлях. Шлях мудрості.
In Arabic via Google Translate:
الطريق إلى معبد تشيون إن المحبوب. هذا هو الطريق لمقابلة هونين-ساما. والطريق لتلقي تعاليم نيمبوتسو. طريق يؤدي إلى الناس من جميع الأعمار، رجالًا ونساءً، للعيش بشكل مشرق وصالح ومتناغم من خلال حكمة بوذا. طريق يسمح لك بالشفاء من تعب الحياة والاستمتاع بكرامة الحياة ومتعتها. هذا هو هذا الطريق. طريق الحكمة.
In Spanish via Google Translate:
El camino hacia el querido templo Chion-in. Ese es el camino para encontrar a Honen-sama. Y el camino para recibir las enseñanzas del Nembutsu. Un camino que lleva a personas de todas las edades, hombres y mujeres, a vivir de manera brillante, recta y armoniosa a través de la sabiduría de Buda. Un camino que permite sanar el cansancio de la vida y disfrutar de la dignidad y la alegría de vivir. Ese es este camino. El camino de la sabiduría.
Something I’ve been thinking about lately. A lot. Nothing lasts forever and, to paraphrase the Buddha-Dharma, all phenomena are fluid and subject to change. So it is with political systems.
With things as they are now, it’s hard to know how things will turn out 5, 10 or even 50 years from now. However, I find it help to look to the past, and draw lessons and patterns from those.
Enter the city-state of Athens in the 7th century BCE.
Ancient Greece, that is to say Greek history before the Hellenistic Period and Roman times, was a loose patchwork of city-states called polis (Πόλις). Each polis was its own government, raised its own army, and so on. There was no concept of Greek nationalism at this time. They shared a culture and language, they had overlapping religious cults to teh same deities, but not a single “nation” we call Greece today.
Sometimes, powerful polis would absorb small villages around them as part of the polis, but it was still one city, one government. Often times, especially as history progressed, groups of polis would form “leagues” called Koinon (Κοινὸν) for mutual defense, trade and so on. But again, no single nation.
Why do I mention this?
Each polis formed its own government system. Each polis had its own notion of citizenship (i.e. who was a citizen and who wasn’t). Sparta had a diarchy (two kings), plus a complicated system of checks and balances, and a very limited sense of citizenship at the expense of its huge helot slave underclass. Sparta sucked.
As the excellent video below explains, Athens by contrast started out as an oligarchy: a group of affluent families running affairs. However, gradually Athens migrated more and more toward full democracy, expanding citizenship (somewhat) and so on.
I highly recommend the video if you can. It’s an fun, excellent summary of 200 years of Athenian history. What’s really important to understand, I think, is that democracy didn’t spring into existence overnight, and it didn’t start in a perfect form. When the oligarchy was reformed, a man named Solon (Σόλων; c. 630 – c. 560 BC) developed a limited democratic system, which worked well enough until a populist-tyrant named Peisistratus (Πεισίστρατος, c. 600 BC – 527 BC) seized power. “Tyrant”, or tyrannos (τύραννος) in ancient Greek had a slightly different connotation than modern English. A Greek-style tyrant was more simply a dictator or autocrat: not inherently cruel or evil, but did hold absolute power.
Peisistratus, ironically, had a lot of popular support from the masses, and after overthrowing the nascent democratic system, he worked to further curtail the influence of the oligarchs who hadn’t fully relinquished power and influence under Solon’s reforms, plus agricultural and economic reforms. Sounds good at first, but people quickly grew sick of his autocratic behavior, and exiled him. Twice. Peisistratus turned a third time at the head of an army and took over Athens one last time, before we eventually died and his authority passed to his son.
Eventually, his son was kicked out for good, and Democracy returned to Athens under Cleisthenes (Κλεισθένης, c. 570 – c. 508 BC). Cleisthenes had enough sense to not return to the old democratic system, which had been somewhat fragile, and prone to abuse by powerful people. Instead, he reformed the voting districts entirely into new, artificial tribes, each with their own voting districts or demes. He also instituted the system of ostracism to help Athens get rid of bad actors more easily, before it was too late. The rights of citizens were also clarified, and extended to villages within Athens’s sphere for the first time.
Cleisthenes built upon Solon’s earlier work by further reforming the Athenian democratic system, and making it more robust and fair.
This persisted until the 5th century BCE when a brief coup in 411, followed by an imposed government by conquering Sparta, the Thirty Tyrants, in 408 again interrupted the democratic system. However, democracy once again bounced back, made further incremental reforms under Ephialtes (Ἐφιάλτης, d. 461 BC), and persisted until 307 BCE under the domination of the Macedonians. Athens by this point, as a city-state, was simply too small to stand up to empires such as Macedon, followed by Rome. The system continued to exist, but it did not manage anything significant beyond its city borders, until it finally become a simple province under the Eastern Romans (i.e. the Byzantines).
But what I find fascinating is that after every setback Athens always bounced back and reformed its democratic system more and more to avoid internal strife and disruption. They learned from the past, avoided a repeat of the same mistakes, and made their system more robust in the process. Athens isn’t the only country to do this. After the French Revolution of 1789, France has had 5 republics. Each time, they get encounter strife due to a problem in the system, they bounce back, make a new republic, new constitution, and so on. Some republican systems were more successful than others (the Fourth Republic only lasted 12 years), but even in failure there’s lessons to be learned.
So, when I find myself worrying about current events, I try to take solace in that other societies have experienced similar tribulations, but oftentimes the problems are comparatively short-lived, and help spur reforms to the political system that help avoid similar issues in the future, thus revitalizing democracy.
Season three of Star Trek has one of my most favorite, albeit silliest episodes in the entire series: The Savage Curtain. The episode starts off with a bang: Abraham Lincoln (played by Lee Bergere) floating in space on his trademark chair.
From there, the Enterprise crew and in particular Kirk and Spock are confronted by some of “histories worst villains” as well as an encounter with Spock’s idol, Surak (played by Barry Atwater), father of Vulcan philosophy.
Surak of Vulcan, founder of Vulcan Logic, in the Star Trek episode the “Savage Curtain” (season 3, episode 22)
The rock aliens who force the “good” historical figures to combat the “evil” historical figures want to compare and contrast their philosophical ideas against one another to see which is better.
Kahless the Unforgettable (played by Bob Herron) and Colonel Greene (played by Phillip Pine)
The premise might seem a bit silly, but it is a fascinating contrast of ideas:1
Surak – a pacifist, non-violent approach
Lincoln – fight if necessary, and “on their level”.
Col. Greene – power is all matters
Kahless – victory by any means
Kirk – do what it takes to save his crew
Spock – honor his commitments to Starfleet, and fight with Kirk, even if is compromises his personal morals
Although Surak loses his life in the combat, he has some really great quotes in this episode that I think are worth sharing:2
The face of war has never changed. Surely it is more logical to heal than to kill.
Surak of Vulcan, “The Savage Curtain” (s3ep23), stardate 5906.5
and also:
I am pleased to see that we have differences. May we together become greater than the sum of both of us.
Surak of Vulcan, “The Savage Curtain” (s3ep22), stardate 5906.4
Lincoln’s performance throughout the episode is great as he embodies the great American president as we want him to be: gentle, but tough when needed. One can’t help but compare this to Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, even if they are completely different movies, because Abraham Lincoln is such a beloved figure.
At the very end of the episode, there is a subtle dialogue worth sharing:
KIRK: They seemed so real. And to me, especially Mister Lincoln. I feel I actually met Lincoln.
SPOCK: Yes, and Surak. Perhaps in a sense they were real, Captain. Since they were created out of our own thoughts, how could they be anything but what we expected them to be?
In fact, I think there’s something very Buddhist about this. The inhabitants of the planet didn’t necessarily create historically accurate versions of Lincoln, Surak, etc, but what we wanted them to be in our minds. In a sense, we create our own gods and idols through our hopes and aspirations (for good or for ill). This isn’t always bad, but it does show how unwittingly we bend the world around us to fit our beliefs and views.
Anyhow, The Savage Curtain is such a fun, surreal episode, and a fascinating contrast of ideas and people in history, and how they interact. These ideas and philosophies are timeless in many ways, and crop up over and over again in history, but by pitting a bunch of historical figures in space against once another, it takes on a whole new dimension of weird, silly, fun.
Also:
Courtesy of “Swear Trek”
P.S. Many reviews point out that The Savage Curtain borrows elements from older, venerable episodes, and thus judge it an inferior episode. I can’t disagree that it borrows a lot of elements, but I like to think it is a capstone to several previous “moral tale” episodes. The action sequences aren’t quite as good, but I don’t think that was the point. It was battle of ideas, not sticks.
P.P.S. I bet you could take all 8 characters, including Kirk and Spock, in the battle and somehow arrange them into a classic D&D alignment chart. The rock aliens of Excalbia would probably be true-neutral.
1 I wish “Zorra” (Carol Daniels) and “Genghis Khan” (Nathan Jung) had dialogue, as it would have been interesting to have more contrasting goals and aspirations.
SPOCK: Insults are effective only where emotion is present.
Star Trek, “Who Mourns for Adonais?” (s2ep2), stardate 3468.1
SPOCK: Where there’s no emotion, there’s no motive for violence.
Star Trek, “Dagger of the Mind” (s1ep9), stardate 2715.1
I wrote about the Buddhist virtue of forbearance before, but I had an important reminder recently why this matters so much in Buddhist practice.
Our natural tendency is to hold a grudge when someone slights us, or when we have been wronged. This is normal human pattern of behavior. But, like self-doubt, this is a form of conceit, putting ourselves and our ego before others.
In the Dhammapada, a collection of sayings attributed to the Buddha and one of the very earliest Buddhist texts still preserved, the Buddha has much to say regarding the subject. For example:
133. Speak not harshly to anyone, for those thus spoken to might retort. Indeed, angry speech hurts, and retaliation may overtake you.
134. If, like a broken gong, you silence yourself, you have approached Nibbana [a.k.a. Nirvana, final Unbiding], for vindictiveness is no longer in you.
The Dhammapada, translation by Acharya Buddharakkhita
The Buddha was uncompromising on this: no vengeance, lest you bring even further misery upon yourself.
Indeed, the Buddha taught by freeing oneself of ill-will and other negative emotions, one is liberated:
197. Happy indeed we live, friendly amidst the hostile. Amidst hostile men we dwell free from hatred.
198. Happy indeed we live, friendly amidst the afflicted (by craving). Amidst afflicted men we dwell free from affliction.
199. Happy indeed we live, free from avarice amidst the avaricious. Amidst the avaricious men we dwell free from avarice.
200. Happy indeed we live, we who possess nothing. Feeders on joy we shall be, like the Radiant Gods.
The Dhammapada, translation by Acharya Buddharakkhita
Of course, this is easier said than done.
As with self-doubt or any negative emotion, stop and think like a Vulcan: assess the situation including your own feelings. Is this productive? Is it harmful? Is it based on conceit?
Spock in season 3 episode 21, the “Cloud Minders”, played by Leonard Nimoy
Many times, we are prone to act or lash out, but if we take a moment to assess our feelings, and the situation, we are more capable of handling it rationally. In so doing, we avoid further misery for ourselves and others.
When the ego is bruised, it demands attention and resolution. But that is short-sighted, and rarely fixes anything.
SEPTIMUS: Our way is peace.
Star Trek, the Son Worshiper, “Bread and Circuses” (s2ep25), stardate 4040.7.
A commitment toward peace and well-being towards others feels counter-intuitive at times, but peace toward others inevitably leads toward peace for oneself.
I used to be an avid Dune reader in my younger years, and posted quotes from it all the time in earlier iterations of the blog. Anyhow, I found this quote from the third book:
The universe is just there; that’s the only way a Fedaykin can view it and remain the master of his senses. The universe neither threatens nor promises. It holds things beyond our sway: the fall of a meteor, the eruption of a spiceblow, growing old and dying. These are the realities of this universe and they must be faced regardless of how you feel about them. You cannot fend off such realities with words. They will come at you in their own wordless way and then, then you will understand what is meant by “life and death.” Understanding this, you will be filled with joy.
Muad’Dib to his Fedaykin, from Frank Herbert’s “Children of Dune”
I have probably said this a few times recently, but like it or not wearenotthecenter of the Universe, no matter how much we like to think we are. The universe will carry on without or without us, and sometimes it’s capable of really wondrous moments, and sometimes it will unleash some really shitty realities on us. And there’s only so much we can do to control that. Like a raft navigating treacherous waters, we have to carefully row and pay attention to the currents.
In spite of all this, though, it doesn’t mean we have to sit and be passive either.
Speaking of old science-fiction quotes…I am an avid Roger Zelazny reader, and Isle of the Dead is among my favorite books ever. I always like this quote because of its cosmic feel, but also its unintentional Buddhist message which resembles Saicho’s famous quote about “lighting one corner of the world”:
“Earth-son, I greet you by the twenty-seven Names that still remain, praying the while that you have cast more jewels into the darkness and given them to glow with the colors of life.”
My pure land is not destroyed, yet the multitude see it as consumed in fire, with anxiety, fear and other sufferings filling it everywhere….But those who practice meritorious ways, who are gentle, peaceful, honest and upright, all of them will see me here in person, preaching the Law [a.k.a. The Dharma]
Thus, even in the midst of crisis, or madness, or despair the light of the Dharma still shines even when it seems obfuscated. It is always there for those willing to look, and for those willing to cast a few jewels into the darkness.
Gleanings in Buddha-Fields 
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