The Wars of the Diadochoi

Recently I talked about the human tendency to grab power, and the tendency to self-destruct as a result. I wanted to look at a very fascinating, but often forgotten, period of Western history: the Wars of the Diadochoi, probably one of the most clear expressions of this tendency.

The Greek term diadochos (διάδοχος) means “successor”, or in plural diadochoi (διάδοχοι). These were the troops of Alexander the Great, who had marched with him all the way to India, battle after battle, and were present when he died in the city of Babylon on June 10th, in 323 BC.

Alexander’s premature death left the small Greek kingdom of Macedon ruling a vast empire stretching all the way from Macedon and Greece, down to Egypt, and east to central Asia and northwestern India. Much of this territory had been administered under the Achaemenid Persians as “Satrapies” each with their own king. The Achaemenid emperor ruled these local kings as the “king of kings”.

But as soon as Alexander the Great died, this empire unravelled.

Alexander, in true fashion, had rushed headlong in one invasion after another, with no clear plan how to rule the newly acquired territory. Alexander was a military genius who never lost a battle, and was genuinely convinced he was the son of a god. Yet, he was also extremely impetuous and didn’t really have a long-term plan other than a vague notion of Greco-Persian empire.

Upon his sudden death, his close confidants (philoi, φίλοι), generals, and various troops quickly divided into factions who rallied behind one successor of Alexander or another, while also scrambling for territory (satraps).

Update: Extra History put out a really nice video summarizing these early years of conflict:

Anyhow, to put it mildly, this scramble for power, territory, and regency of the heirs unleashed one war after another, from Greece to Central Asia, from Egypt to Asia Minor:

First War of the Diadochoi (321–319 BCE) – an alliance against general Perdiccas who sought to expand his regency by marrying Alexander’s daughter, resulted in the death of Perdiccas who was betrayed by his men who worked out a deal with the opposing faction. During this time, Ptolemy stole Alexander’s body and escaped to Egypt. Seleucus (one of Perdiccas’s murderers) made a deal with Ptolemy. Remember these two men.
Second War of the Diadochoi (318–316 BCE) – the new preeminent power, Antigonus, went to war against a faction challenging his authority in Mesopotamia. By the end of this long, complex war of shifting alliances, Ptolemy was now firmly in control of Egypt as Ptolemy I Soter (“savior”), and Antigonus was still the strongest power who reigned as Antigonus I Monopthalmus (“the one-eyed”). Macedon was ruled by Cassander who also instrumented the death of Alexander the Great’s primary heir, Alexander the IV. By this point the empire had broken up into massive dynasties, with no more pretense of ruling in Alexander’s stead.
Third War of the Diadochoi (315–311 BCE) – continued wars by Antigonus against an increasingly powerful Seleucus who built a power-base from the eastern Satraps, and also with Ptolemy I in Egypt. Antigonus was unable to decisively defeat either, and things devolved into a detente.
Babylonian War (311–309 BCE) – the war between Antigonus and Seleucus resumes, and ultimately Antigonus is later defeated by Seleucus and a coalition of other Diadochoi at the Battle of Ipsus in 301 BCE. Seleucus now rules the remnants of the Persian empire as Seleucus I Nicator (“the victorious”).
Fourth War of the Diadochi (307–301 BCE) – This was a prolonged four-way battle between Antigonus I, who now ruled Macedon with his son Demetrius I Poliorcetes (“besieger of cities”), Ptomley I in Egypt, Seleucus I in Mesopotamia, and Lysimachus (another successor) who ruled Asia Minor. By this point, the various dynasties were mostly stable now, but further battles continued:
- A prolonged three-way war from 298–285 BCE between Demetrius I Polircetes, Phyrrus of Epirus, and Cassander’s sons, resulting ultimately in Demetrius’s death, but succession by his son Antigonus II Gonatas and thus establishment of the Antigonid Dynasty.
- Meanwhile, Seleucus I and Lysimachus battled for a long time (285–281 BCE) until Lysimachus was killed in battle in 281 BCE. It should be noted that Seleucus’s victory was as close to reunification of Alexander’s empire as the Diadochoi ever came. However, Seleucus I was murdered while marching to Europe by his ally, Ptolemy Ceraunus, an ousted son of Ptolemy I, for reasons unknown. Seleucus’s son, Antiochus I Soter, established the Seleucid Empire in Mesopotamia, Persia, and the east.
- The last struggle was Ptolemy Ceraunus’s brief seizure of power in 281 BCE in Macedon, but his reign was unexpectedly cut short due to a massive invasion of Celtic tribes into Macedon, Greece, and even Asian minor. These Celts later came to rule a territory known as Galatia for centuries. With Ceraunus dead, the Antogonid’s reclaimed power in Macedon and ruled for centuries.

Thus, by 280 or so, the various successors and powers had finally settled into three great dynasties:

the Antigonid Dynasty (Greece/Macedon),
the Ptolemaic Dynasty (Egypt, eastern Mediterranean), and
the Seleucid Empire (Mesopotamia, Persia, etc).

A map depicting the kingdoms of the Diadochi c. 301 BC, after the Battle of Ipsus. Courtesy of Diadochen1.png: Captain_BloodDiadochi IT.svg: Luigi Chiesa (talk) This vector image includes elements that have been taken or adapted from this file: Battle icon gladii.svg.derivative work: Homo lupustranslator: Manlleus (ca), CC BY-SA 3.0, and Wikimedia Commons

A fourth Hellenstic dynasty, the Attalids, came to rule a small, but powerful state in western Asia Minor, and were a close ally of Rome for generations, while a fifth dynasty (a hybrid Greco-Persian one), ruled the Black Sea as the Mithridatic or Pontic Dynasty until they too were annexed by Rome. And then we have the Bactrian-Greeks far to the east as well.

Aside from the Bactrian Greeks, each of these dynasties ruled their respective lands for the next three centuries, a period known in history as the Hellenistic Period, until the rise of the Roman Republic who destroyed them one at a time.

The four wars of the Diadochoi make Game of Thrones look mild. There was so much switching of sides, backstabbings, intritrigue, scandals, and of course constant warfare. The excellent Hellenistic Age Podcast spends the first twenty episodes alone covering this conflict. And even after the wars had settled down, the constant struggles between the Antigonids, Ptolemies and Seleucids never really ended. They fought dynastic battles within their own families, but also constant battles with one another. The Ptolemies and Seleucids in particular fought six wars over a territory called Coele-Syria (modern Lebanon and Syria, sometimes included modern Israel and Palestine) until the Ptolemies finally lost it for good. The Book of Daniel in the Old Testament even alludes to this war between the “king of the north” and “king of the south”.

Next time, we’ll look more into how these different dynasties thrived and survived (until the Romans came), and how each took on different personalities.

Power

Another Roman history nerd moment, if you will indulge me….

By 45 BCE, Gaius Julius Caesar (aka Julius Caesar) had defeated his rival Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (aka Pompey the Great) in a lengthy civil war and returned to Rome.

From here, Julius Caesar kept pushing the limits of power, with no one pushing back, inching closer and closer to a king. Special thanks to Historia Civilis for these fun, awesome history videos:

His power grab was crass and violated centuries of tradition and laws, yet the Senate was packed with loyalists who just went along with it for personal gain, while opposition was uncoordinated and ineffective (special nod to Tribune of the Plebs, Pontius Aquila, though).

Even after Caesar’s demise, nothing really got better.

Instead, the facade of government was no longer there and lacked any real legitimacy, so men just grabbed power.

In time the Second Triumvirate (aka “rule by three men”) formed under:

Marcus Antonius (aka Marc Antony)
Marcus Aemilius Lepidus (aka Lepidus), and
Octavian (later Augustus Caesar).

Through a combination of purges, rivals were eliminated until eventually the Triumvirate turned on one another with only Octavian left standing.

Contrary to popular belief, the Roman Senate and other functions of state continued to exist. The res publica that is Rome never stopped being the res publica until 1453 CE with the Fall of Constantinople. Octavian didn’t even declare himself Emperor. He adopted the title princeps (“first among many”) as the leader of the Senate.

However, real power rested with Octavian and his descendants, the Julio-Claudian dynasty, and the Senate just kept getting weaker and weaker over the generations until by the time of the Eastern Romans (aka the Byzantines), it was pretty much ceremonial: honorific titles to confer on allied and friends. Even the title princeps kept going until Diocletian in the third century dropped the act and just called himself Emperor.

Speaking of the Eastern Romans, the line of Emperors continuing all the way to Konstatinos (“Constatine”) XI Palailogos in 1453 had its ups and downs. During a time of succession crisis, someone would once again fill the power vacuum and rule with blatant power, rather than legitimate rule. Emperor Konstatinos VII Porphyrogenitus in the 10th century had legitimacy, but he practically did nothing because his father-in-law Romanos Lekapenos held real power, and just propped his son-in-law up for legitimacy. Centuries later, when Constantinople was on the brink, Ioannes (“John VI”) Kantakouzenos in the late 13th launched a civil, and hired tons of Turkish mercenaries to fight for him. Needless say these, these Ottoman Turks didn’t leave, and, the Eastern Romans lasted only another 100 years.

This, by the way, is not limited to Western political history. In fact, centuries before the Roman Republic, if you look the famous Spring and Autumn Period in Chinese history, you see many examples of this too. Local nobility gradually morphed into warlords as the central Zhou (pronounced “Joe”) Dynasty lost its central grip on power. Kǒngzǐ (aka “Confucius”), living generations later when the system has practically collapsed, laments how local warlords perform religious rites that used to be accorded to the Emperor, and not someone of their station. These were gross power grabs, and Confucius criticized their lack of propriety and respect for the traditions and rites of the times.

Why do I mention all this?

It seems there is a pattern in history and politics than when governments are weak, someone with ambition fills the vacuum and just pushes things over. Such strongmen rule with power, not laws. As Frank Herbert wrote in the Dune series:

“All governments suffer a recurring problem: Power attracts pathological personalities. It is not that power corrupts but that it is magnetic to the corruptible.”
Frank Herbert, Chapterhouse: Dune

Going all the way back to Pompey the Great, there is a famous quote attributed to him by Plutarch which in Greek said:¹

‘οὐ παύσεσθε,’ εἶπεν, ‘ἡμῖν ὑπεζωσμένοις ξίφη νόμους ἀναγινώσκοντες;’
“…at which Pompey said: “Cease quoting laws to us that have swords girt about us!””
Source for English here

This quote has been on my mind a lot lately, and is what spurred this lengthy diatribe, I suppose.

Laws and rules are only effective when people respect them. When people stop respecting them, they cease to be effective. In such times, political principles and theory hardly matter anymore. Power becomes the only true constant.

And of course, as we all know, power is a fickle thing, and easily lost.

Eight Hour Monk

SPOCK: There are many who are uncomfortable with what we have created. It is almost a biological rebellion. A profound revulsion against the planned communities, the programming, the sterilised, artfully balanced atmospheres. They hunger for an Eden where spring comes.
Star Trek, “The Way to Eden” (s3e20), Stardate 5832.3

As I write this, the family is in Japan (sadly, I was unable to go this year) visiting relatives, and I am home with the dog, Cherry.

Since I have a couple weeks to myself, I thought it would be a great time to put in a little extra Buddhist practice, catch up on some personal projects, go offline for a bit, etc. Basically, try to live like a monk for a few days. I carefully planned it out, decided what I would do and not do, took a three days off from work, and then got ready for the “mini home retreat”.

I lasted eight hours.

The first few hours were great. It was peaceful, quiet, and I did finish reading a couple books on my to-do list, meditated extra, recited more sutras than usual, and so on. But then, as the hours progressed, isolation and boredom set in. I started worrying if I was missing a text from my family (in case of emergencies), and I discovered that it’s hard to read Japanese books without a dictionary which I only have on my phone.

Embarrassingly by early afternoon I gave up and turned on my phone. Then I went and played Fire Emblem: Three Houses for a few hours,¹ watched Star Trek V: The Final Frontier² for some crazy reason, got bored and played more Fire Emblem until 11pm.

Day two, I didn’t even really bother to try again. I realized that I had hyped up this time off too much, and without any support or contact with others, I quickly started to get a little stir-crazy. That’s not to say the time wasn’t unproductive either. Even today (day two), I still got some extra stuff done around the house, and did a little more Buddhist stuff than usual. But I also played Fire Emblem: Three Houses for three hours.

τὸ μὲν πνεῦμα πρόθυμον, ἡ δὲ σὰρξ ἀσθενής.
“Indeed the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Matthew 26:40-43 with original Koine Greek

Indeed, in the Sutra on the Buddha of Immeasurable Life, one of the Three Pure Land sutras, the Buddha Shakyamuni laments that:

“People of the world, being weak in virtue, engage in strife over matters which are not urgent….Since they have not done any good in particular, nor followed the Way, nor acted virtuously, when they die, they will depart alone to an inferior world. Although they are destined to different states of existence, none of them understands the law of karma³ that sends them there.”
Translation by the late Hisao Inagaki, hosted here.

So, the problem of laziness and lack of follow-through in religious practices (or personal projects) is nothing new. Even in Japanese, there is a phrase: mikka bōzu (三日坊主) meaning “three day monk”. It’s a tongue-in-cheek phrase about how most endeavors last three days at most.

In my case, I think my failure was a combination of over-zealousness and perfectionism which set the bar too high for something I am not really used to doing day to day. The idea of a religious personal retreat is still worth it, but I should have set the bar lower the first time, and tried to be a bit more realistic.

The point isn’t to give up and just play more Fire Emblem (but then again, I might anyway), but reflect on what worked, and what didn’t and focus on something realistic and sustainable. As Dogen reminds us, it can be done, but expecting it to work overnight if I just push through hard enough is maybe a bit silly.

Namu Shakamuni Butsu
Namu Amida Butsu

P.S. Bonus post. Apologies for any typos, I wrote this one quickly while it was still fresh in my mind, so probably more editing mistakes than usual.

P.P.S. On the plus side, I also had some time to practice vegetarian cooking and made a large batch of Mapo Tofu, Pasta Mama (in honor of Captain Pike in Star Trek: Strange New Worlds), and some Thai curry. This photo is the Mapo Tofu:

… I also harvested the scallions I’ve been growing since Spring:

¹ I am on my eighth play-through I think. I am finally going back and replaying my first route, Crimson Flower route (i.e. with Edelgard) and doing things I missed on my first play-through. It’s been nearly two years, and I still enjoy this game very much. The story, dialogue, characters and world-building never cease to amaze me.

² I think I watched it to remember why this movie is so unpopular. It has some good qualities to it, but yeah, it’s not very good. As a teenager, I watched it in the theaters and thought it a bit odd, but it’s not aged well for me.

³ For similar teaching, see the first chapter of the Soto Zen text, the Shushogi.

The Trials and Tribulations of Athenian Democracy

The Parthenon of Athens, a tall crumbling stone building with many columns.

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.

Message From The Past

True story: this week I got the following email from myself from January 2020 from futureme.org. I’ve edited out a few things for privacy reasons:

Dear [me],

This is [me], 2020 edition! How has the last 5 years been? [trimmed for privacy]

Funny you should mention that. The Pandemic happened shortly after.

Have you found what you were looking for with regard to Greek philosophy, or have you found new appreciation for the Buddha-Dharma?

I didn’t study Greek philosophy much after I wrote this. It was a fun exercise, but I didn’t find it particularly practical.

Are you still studying Greek?

As a matter of fact…

Did you keep up your Japanese studies?

Yes, despite some setbacks.

Do you still play D&D Adventurers League, or did you take up new hobbies? How’s your figurine painting going?

Yes, though not as much as I did at the time.

As I write this, it is January 2020, and overall things are pretty darn good. Finances are better than before, and [trimmed for privacy].

I was laid off by my old company two months later, but then found a better job anyway.

Your health-habits are (somewhat) better than before, too.

Some improvements, but also some setbacks here too.

As this is not my first (and probably not my last) FutureMe letter, let me say that as you’ve reach the half-way point in your life, you still have much to look forward to. Never get complacent, always strive for better, and never forget Hierocles’s Circle when you regard other people.

This is something that really felt meaningful in 2025. I talked about Hierocles’s Circle here, and I still think it’s a nice blend Greek philosophy and Buddhist practice.

Happy 2024 (?) ol’ buddy!

Not sure why I said 2024, when I meant 2025. Oh well.

Anyhow, that’s what I wrote to myself 5 years ago. Clearly, I failed to predict some things, some things never changed, and it was also a nice reminder to myself of some things that are important.

Ablution

A floor tile mosaic showing two peacocks flanking a foundatin. Above the fountain is the Greek palindrome "ΝΙΨΟΝΑΝΟΜΗΜΑΤΑΜΗΜΟΝΑΝΟΨΙΝ".

Recently, I have been dabbling in learning ancient Greek language for the first time in years. I polished off my old DVD copy of the Greek 101 course from The Great Courses which I bought during the Pandemic after my local library no longer had it available.¹ It’s been fun to review old lessons, get reacquainted with such a gorgeous language, and so on.

Anyhow, something I wanted to share was a famous axiom in Koine Greek found throughout the Eastern Roman (a.k.a. the Byzantine) world:

ΝΙΨΟΝΑΝΟΜΗΜΑΤΑΜΗΜΟΝΑΝΟΨΙΝ
(Νίψον ἀνομήματα, μὴ μόναν ὄψιν)

“Wash your sins, not only your face.”

This is pronounced as Nipson anomēmata mē monan opsin. This is a famous palindrome (same forwards or backwards) that according to Wikipedia is attributed to one Saint Gregory of Nazianzus. I am not super familiar with the Orthodox tradition, but feel free to consult Wikipedia for more details. You can find it at many monasteries across the Eastern Roman world, including the holy font at the Hagia Sophia, the central church of Constantinople.

In any case, the concept of ablution is also found in Buddhism and expresses a similar sentiment.

Buddhism has a popular custom whereby one performs some kind of ablution with water or incense before approaching a Buddhist altar to pray. It is not strictly required, but is commonly performed as a gesture of respect toward the Buddhist deity you are visiting by cleansing oneself at a superficial level. Within Japanese Buddhism, some sects encourage this more than others; from what I have learned Tendai Buddhism tends to emphasize this a lot, Pure Land Buddhist sects (e.g. Jodo Shu and Jodo Shinshu) do not. The emphasis varies, in other words.

But also ablution in Buddhism is not limited to the external ritual; we also the concept of repentance (e.g. “washing the soul”). This is not the same thing as Western religions, where someone begs God for forgiveness for transgressions committed. Instead, the Buddha strongly encouraged us to constantly evaluate our past conduct, and use the Dharma as a kind of yard-stick to measure them: were they skillful actions, or unskillful actions? Inevitably, one must confront their own unskillful actions. We all do. It is part of being a human being.

So, in Buddhism, many traditions have a ritual were people reflect on their past actions and renounce them, resolving to do better. It is encouraged to do this in front of a statue of the Buddha, and to repeat the liturgy out loud, not just in one’s mind:

All of the misdeeds I’ve committed in the past, are the result of my own greed [or craving], anger and delusion [or ignorance]. I renounce [or repent] these misdeeds.
Translations vary by community, this is just one example.

The idea is that by acknowledging and confessing one’s faults, one not only learns from one’s mistakes, one also potentially diminishes some negative karma that one has sown, and also prevents further self-harm (i.e. guilt, self-recrimination) by letting go and forgiving oneself.

So, just as the old Greek palindrome says, Buddhist practice is not only washing one’s face, but also one’s “soul”.²

Namu Shakamuni Nyorai

P.S. A common misunderstanding is the primary language in the Roman Empire was Latin. In fact, most of the population spoke Greek as their primary language, though this varied widely by region. This prevalence of Greek was both a leftover from the Hellenistic Age, but also because even Romans felt that Greek was a prestige language, and wealthy Romans hired Greek tutors for their children when possible. Julius Caesar’s famous “Et Tu Brute” quote was actually recited in Greek (Kai Su Teknon).

¹ I prefer having hard copies of things, whenever possible.

² Buddhism is somewhat unique among world religions in that it teaches the concept of “no-soul” (anatman), so by “soul” I don’t mean a literal soul, but the mind and one’s provisional self.

Saints Into Savages

Author’s note: I wrote this a couple months ago, but have been so backed up, I am finally posting it now. It was not intended to relate to current events. Just Star Trek nerdism, and me philosophizing.

The third-season episode of Star Trek titled Plato’s Children is often criticized as one of the worst episodes of the series. It actually has a really interesting premise, but suffers from poor execution.¹

The Enterprise comes to planet populated by a self-styled republic,² modeled after ancient Greek poleis, comprised of aliens who each have tremendous psychic powers. They live in great comfort, and spend their days pursuing whatever they want, but members of this republic have become so lazy, and have atrophied so much that they can’t manage even basic first-aid. When the leader suffers from a cut, he fails to do anything about it until it becomes seriously infected.

Further, one member of the community suffers from dwarfism, and no psychokinetic powers, and the other members of the republic bully him for entertainment and menial tasks. Michael Dunn’s performance as the “dwarf” character was excellent by the way. The same members also torment the Enterprise crew for an extended period of time to get what they want.³

By the end of the episode, it’s clear that the members of this republic are perpetually bored, and half-mad from having terrific power, but nothing constructive to use it for.

Without any struggle in life, or a way to stay grounded, I think the tendency is for one to gradually go mad. People’s minds, even when satisfied with basic needs, have a tendency to create more and more subtle problems for themselves. These problems nest fractally, there is no bottom.

Further, the other major point of the episode is said by the villain Patronius when he is defeated by Kirk:

Patronius: “Uncontrolled, power will turn even saints into savages. And we can all be counted on to live down to our lowest impulses.”
Star Trek, “Plato’s Stepchildren” (s3ep10), Stardate 5784.2

This is a very unintentionally Buddhist thing to say too. The mind is capable of the heights of sainthood (or bodhisattva-hood in Buddhism), as well as the depths of depravity, and everything in between. Under the right conditions any person can become a tyrant, or a ~~saint~~ bodhisattva. It’s not so much a question of personal will-power, environment matters more than one might think.

Under the right circumstances, you might even wear a toga….

It is always important to stay just a little vigilant toward one’s own mind. Perfectly rational people can easily go off the rails under the right circumstances. Further, you can’t control what others think and do (nor should you), but you can control how you react to them, or how you choose to conduct yourself. A mind unrestrained will inevitably run into disaster.

Namu Shaka Nyorai

¹ Like many season 3 episodes.

² The use of “republic” as modern people think it, is pretty different than the “res publica” as understood by Romans. It was more closer to a commonwealth, than a particular political structure, so even after Octavian took over as the princeps (the first “Emperor” in all but name), the res publica kept going well into the Easter Roman Byzantine era and beyond. By then, the Latin term was gradually replaced with the Greek equivalent: Politeia (πολιτεία).

³ This is why this episode is so unpopular. The script is pretty thin, so i guess the idea was to stretch out the time by adding more of these torment scenes.

The Journeys of Xuanzang, part four: Southward

In our last episode (… a few months ago 😓) Xuan-zang met the Qaghan of the Western Turkic Khaganate, and made a good impression, allowing him to travel safely further south and westward toward the city of Samarkand.

Map of Xuan-zang’s journeys from Tashkent to Balkh. Inkarnate put out a new version of its software while I was on break, so some things may look different than past maps. As always, this is an amateur map, and may contain geographic mistakes.

If you need to brush up on earlier episodes, click below:

Samarkand

Samarkand is a fascinating place: a fabulously old city, and a major hub on the Silk Road. All the way back in the time of Alexander the Great’s conquests in 329 BCE, 1,000 years before Xuan-Zang, the city was called Marakanda (Μαράκανδα) in Greek and was part of the Achaemenid Persian Empire before that. By Xuan-zang’s time the city was part of the Sassanian Persian empire, and still a major trading hub, known even to the Chinese, but I was unable to find a reliable source on the Chinese name at the time. Modern term is 撒马尔干 (sǎ mǎ ěr gàn ?). The city at this time was almost entirely populated by Sogdian Iranian people, whom we’ve also seen in past episodes. This far west from China, Xuan-Zang probably saw very few if any Chinese people, and instead encountered many people from other cultures and parts of the world. He was very much a “stranger in a strange land”.¹

However, because this city was part of the Sassanian Empire, the official religion was Zoroastrianism, not Buddhism, and as Xuan-zang came to the city, he noticed that the Buddhist monasteries there were abandoned and neglected. Some of Xuan-zang’s followers went to pay their respects at these monasteries, but they were chased off by a mob of Zoroastrian followers with flaming brands. Later, the king heard what happened and arrested the mob leaders and was going to pass sentence to mutilate them. Xuan-zang begged for leniency, and so they were flogged and expelled from the city.

The king of Samarkand wasn’t particularly friendly to Xuan-zang, but their relations did improve. Further, it seems that later the king of Samarkand made friendly, diplomatic overtures to Tang-Dynasty China as a foil to the Western Turkic Khaganate, but these did not go very far. Decades later, Great Tang’s expansion reached all the way to Samarkand and they briefly ruled for a few decades until the Battle of Talas later. All this happened decades after Xuan-zang visited the city though.

In any case, Xuan-zang wisely did not stay long in the city and turned at least to towards the south.

Heading South

Up until now, Xuan-zang’s journey from the Yumen Pass in China to Samarkand, over the Tian Shan mountains and across two deserts, has mostly been a westerly journey. But this was as far west as Xuan-zang would go. The road to India was now in a south-southeasterly direction passing through places like modern Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Uzbekistan. These areas were not part of Sassanian Empire, and instead were local princes and minor rulers with complicated relations with regional powers. These areas were more Buddhist-friendly as well due to the legacy of Bactrian Greeks,² but more importantly due to the Kushans who came later. Much of these lands were former Kushan territory, and their good governance and patronage of Buddhism at the time allowed things to flourish on the Silk Road.

The first obstacle Xuan-Zang and his party ran into was the famous “Iron Gates“.

A valley in the Badakshan Province in Afghanistan, close to the where the Iron Gates would be. Photo by Zack Knowles, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Because this area was a choke-point for travel, it was often garrisoned, and he described “double wooden doors, strengthened with iron and furnished with bells”. In any case, Xuan-zang seemed able to pass through without much issue.

After crossing the Oxus River (now the Amu Darya), he returned to regions where Buddhism was still flourishing namely in the small city of Termez. Termez was once a major city of the Kushan Empire, but was much more diminished by the time Xuan-zang arrived. The Buddhist community here numbered about 1,000 monks. It was here that he saw the Ajina Tepe monastery and its excellent works of art.

In fact, from here Xuan-zang would behold some pretty amazing spectacles. Many people may not realize that the lands we now call Afghanistan were once bastions of Buddhism along the Silk Road, and boasted many treasures, monasteries, and a very eclectic culture.

But first, Xuan-zang had to deal with a series of problems in the city of Kunduz.

Intrigue and Murder at Kunduz

The Kunduz River valley today, Afghanistan Matters, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Xuan-zang’s visit to the city of Kunduz was no accident. After meeting the king of Turfan way back in episode one, and the Qaghan of the Western Turks in episode three, he had many letters of introduction to the Prince of Kunduz named Tardu. As rulers on the Silk Road, they were all related by family or marriage, so Xuan-zang had little trouble getting an audience with Prince Tardu.

Except for one problem: the Prince’s wife had recently died, and he was in mourning. Later, Tardu abruptly married another daughter of the king of Turfan (episode one), and she in turn plotted with his son from the first marriage. This is starting to sound like the plot of a historical K-drama, doesn’t it?

Before long, Prince Tardu was poisoned and died. The new queen married the prince, and ruled Kunduz thereafter.

Xuan-zang did his best to lay low, and stay out of the issue. His delays at Kunduz meant that he had time to get to know another Buddhist monk named Dharmasimha. Dharmasimha and Xuan-zang debated Buddhist thought and treatises for some time, but Xuan-zang felt Dharmasimha didn’t know as much as he was hyped up to. Dharmasimha for his part, acknowledged his shortcomings, and tried to stay humble about it.

Moving On

Before Prince Tardu’s death, he had encouraged Xuan-zang to visit another city named Balkh, also in modern Afghanistan. Balkh had quite a few sites to see, and since some Buddhist monks were already planning to head back there, Xuan-zang accompanied them. After passing through a city named Tashkurghan (modern Kholm, not related to a similar city in China), they reached the verdant lands of Balkh.

The city of Balkh, known to the Greeks of Alexander the Great as Baktra (Βάκτρα) and Baítíguó (白題國) in Chinese to Tang-dynasty China, was important since very far back in antiquity. Balkh was the traditional birthplace of the Zoroastrian religion, and an important cultural center to Persian people since very ancient times, rivaling cities further to the west such as Babylon and Ecbatana in importance. According to Buddhist tradition, the first two of the Buddha’s disciples also hailed from Balkh, and made the first stupa. Centuries later, it was here that Alexander had married a bride named Roxana, seeking to unify western Greek culture with the eastern Persian culture. Later in the Hellenstic Age, it was an important center of the Greco-Bactrian kingdom.

Needless to say, while few people have heard of Balkh today, it was a very important city across many centuries.

During Xuan-zang’s time, the lands around Balkh were still very fertile (desertification happened gradually later). Even with the widespread destruction the Hephthalities (a.k.a. “white huns”), the lands were still prosperous, if somewhat depopulated. There were two major monasteries in the area collectively known as the Nava Vihara, that belonged to the Sarvastivadin tradition of “Hinayana” (early Indian) Buddhism.³ There were tens of thousands of monks in attendance, and Balkh was one fo the remaining places where teachers were regularly installed from India. Similar to Bamiyan, the Naha Vihara boasted massive statues of the Buddha as well. Interestingly, even as far as the 8th century, long after Xuan-zang was dead, an Arab historian named Umar ibn al-Azraq al-Kermani recorded a place of worship here similar to the Kabaa in Mecca. But instead a Buddhist stupa was enshrined inside, with a cloth draped over it, in accordance with Persian custom of showing veneration.

Xuan-zang stayed at the Nava Vihara for a month, and became good friends with a monk there named Prajnakara. Xuan-zang seemed to finally find a monk of high-caliber, who had a good depth of understanding of Buddhist doctrine, even if he was a “Hinayana”, not Mahayana Buddhist. The two journeyed together further south to Bamiyan.

In our next episode, we’ll explore Xuan-zang’s visit to the great Buddha status of Bamiyan, and Xuan-zang is reaching the borders of India. But first, he has to cross the Himalayas…

¹ A nod to Robert Heinlein.

² A few articles on the Gandharan culture, and the cultural connections between the Bactrian Greeks and Buddhism.

³ Although the Sarvastivada school was not Mahayana Buddhism, Mahayana Buddhism inherited a lot from it anyway: canon of texts, certain viewpoints, etc. Another important early school that influence Mahayana were the Dharmaguptaka, who mostly gave their monastic traditions and rules to the Mahayana.

Cherry Blossoms at the University of Washington

I’ve been talking a lot about heavy, often historical subjects lately, but today I just wanted to share something more local. Every year, my family and I go to see the cherry blossoms at the local University of Washington. This is part of a popular Japanese tradition called ohanami (お花見) or “flower viewing”. Ever since our children were little babies, my wife and I never fail to go to the University of Washington every year, and take lots of family photos and such. A lot of other people come too, and it is a fun community event. The UW has even created a dedicated website just for the occasion, plus social media accounts, and you can even watch a live-cam version of it:

A lot has changed in the last 15 years!

Depending on weather, timing of the bloom, etc, some times we arrive at full bloom (mankai, 満開, in Japanese) and at other times we come too late or a bit too early. This year we came on Tuesday and the timing and weather turned out perfect.

The UW actually has a few clusters of cherry trees, and different varieties, which you can see on the official map, so we tried to visit as many as I could. Also, on my other blog, I wrote a brief guide to Japanese cherry blossoms as well, so feel free to take a look.

The main attraction of course is the Quad, and the Yoshino cherry trees there:

The “Yoshino” cherry tree is the most common and iconic cherry tree variety. In Japanese it is called the somei yoshino.

Next we moved south to see some of the varieties around Drumheller fountain. Not all varieties were in bloom yet, but we did see one called Kanzan,¹ which I had never seen before. The blossoms were noticeably pinker, and had two layers of blossoms, not one.

I really liked this variety myself.

Later, we ran into some good friends who were also viewing the cherry blossoms. Since I hadn’t really been out much this past month, due to surgery recovery, it’s really nice to see some friends and socialize for a while. We later went and got some gyros at a place I used to frequent back in college.

One the way, we saw one other variety I had not seen before: a Mt Fuji Cherry tree:

I had not heard of this variety either, but it is apparently a variety of the Prunus Serrulata tree,² and is known for it’s all white blossoms. This is probably why it got it’s name “Mount Fuji” since it matches the color of snow. In Japanese it is called the “Shirotae” variety, where shirotae is a well-known pillow word in Japanese poetry meaning something that is gleaming white.

Anyhow, the weather worked out really well, and seeing old friends after a rough month really made the trip extra special. I had brought along one of my favorite books about the Hyakunin Isshu with me, and when a couple blossoms fell to the ground, I used it to press them within the pages. After a week, the pressed blossoms turned out pretty nice.

All in all, it was a memorable day, and really uplifting after a difficult month.

P.S. I know I’ve said it before, but a happy Spring Ohigan to all.

¹ The UW website lists them as “Kwanzan”, but that is an older, archaic style of romanization of Japanese language. In Japanese it is definitely spelled “kanzan”. In the same way, the Bodhisattva Kannon was often spelled as “Kwannon” in older English literature.

² The UW has another variety of Prunus Serrulata called the Shirofugen (a.k.a. Fugenzo in Japanese), but they were not in bloom when we came there.

Bad Bosses

Usually I don’t like to talk about my personal life, especially work,¹ but this past week or two has been pretty rough. I’ve been working with another team on a project, and I found out recently that the manager of that project was unhappy with me, and complained to my own manager. Further, the same manager made an under-handed comment during a meeting yesterday, almost certainly aimed at me, rubbing salt on the wound.

My own manager has done his best to be supportive, but I can’t lie, getting criticized really stings, especially given all I’ve done for that team in the past.

In the last 24 hours, I went through a range of emotions: rage, revenge, quitting the job entirely, then despair because I need the job, etc. The fact is is that a steady, secure income is hard to come by these days, and as the sole bread-winner of a family, I have to be extra mindful of where I go, and sometimes have to just “suck it up” to provide for my family. I am certain I am not the only person who is in this bind, either. Each time we get up and head to work, we are forced to “sing for our bread” whether we want to or not. Capitalism sucks.

Even a Buddhist text near and dear to my heart, the Larger Sutra of Immeasurable Life² (link and link), composed more than 2,000 years ago, touches on this:

But in this world [as opposed to the Pure Land of the Buddha] much evil is committed, and few are provided for naturally; people must work hard to get what they want. Since they intend to deceive each other, their minds are troubled, their bodies exhausted, and they drink bitterness and eat hardship.
Translation by Rev. Hisao Inagaki

So, yeah, as Office Space rightly said: work sucks, and yet we have to put up with it to survive.³

But the sting to my pride, coupled with the fact that I have to suck it up and continue to work with this person for the forseeable future makes me feel rotten. I do it for the sake of my kids and wife, but it still makes me feel rotten inside.

So, I started thinking about things like the Eight Winds of Buddhism, and the story of Hakuin the 18th century Zen master in Japan who was unfairly blamed for something but shrugged it off anyway, or the story of the tsunami and the Zen master. In each case, the lesson is to not get hung up on one’s reputation, and gain freedom in the process. This makes sense, but is a lot harder to implement in practice.

I suppose in a more Pure Land Buddhist, less Zen Buddhist context, the goodwill of Amida Buddha extends to all beings equally regardless of their character. Even if the world finds fault in you, Amida Buddha extends his goodwill nonetheless. The Eight Winds may blow this way and that, but it doesn’t matter. No need to get hung up on perfection, or criticizing yourself. In the end, you will be fine.

Namu Amida Butsu

P.S. Another thing I forgot to mention is that regardless of Buddhist sect or practice, it never hurts to stop and contemplate goodwill in Buddhism. You don’t have to like the other person, but you can extend a sense of goodwill toward them.

P.P.S. The oppressiveness of the working class isn’t necessarily limited to modern capitalist societies. Back in the Hellenistic Period of history, the Ptolemaic dynasty in Egypt was known for their oppressive bureacracy too:

¹ Folks might be surprised where I currently work, but it’s definitely unrelated to my blog in every respect. Plus, it’s generally best not to mix the two.

² This sutra is also known by various other names: the Larger Sutra, the Immeasurable Life Sutra, the Longer Sukhāvatīvyūha Sūtra, and so on. More on the Pure Land Buddhist canon here.

³ There are limits though. If someone is subject to harassment, intimidation or discrimination, that’s when the environment is simply too toxic. No amount of patience can fix that. It will erode one’s mental health. If you are in this situation, please do not think “sucking it up” will make it better. Sometimes a change in environment is the best thing you can do for yourself. At the very least, talk to someone you trust, preferably outside of work.

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Samarkand

Heading South

Intrigue and Murder at Kunduz

Moving On

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