by Rosa Zubizarreta
While Buddhism has been my spiritual home for the last twelve years, I have not been the kind of person who pays much attention to safety issues. Although in my late twenties, I finally developed the commonsensical habit of fastening my seat belt (around the same time that I gave up the practice of hitchhiking), only a few years ago I was still playing hooky during my office’s earthquake preparedness drill. And, while I fully support the Red Cross’ recommendations for Y2K (storing food and water, having flashlights and first-aid kits on hand, securing alternative cooking devices), I still struggle with my own tendency to procrastinate with regards to practical matters.
Yet part of my strong motivation to begin preparations now is the need to "walk my talk". As a co-founder of Oakland 2001, a local Y2K community organization, we began to lobby our city goverment for Y2K community education in December of 1998. As a result of our efforts, we are now collaborating with the city’s Office of Emergency Services on joint projects around Y2K outreach and preparedness. Therefore, I have the responsibility to put into practice in my own life the recommendations that I am sharing with others—the recommendations that I believe to be the most sensible course of action in the face of uncertainty. So how did someone like myself end up doing this work? And what does Buddhism and social justice have to do with any of this?
When I first dived into the deep pool of information available about Y2K on the Internet, in early October of 1998, I was amazed at how much there was available on the Web on this subject, from a vast variety of different perspectives. Yet, regardless of people’s take on the matter, all informed opinions seemed to agree on one thing—the sheer magnitude and scope of the problem. However optimistic or pessimistic the predictions, there was no denying the gargantuan task that needed—and still needs—to be accomplished.
I still remember surfacing for air, at the end of that first long weekend glued to my computer, and being shocked and bewildered by the parallel reality that was merrily proceeding along all around me. It seemed that no one was talking about Y2K in the media at that point in time, except an infrequent mention or two aimed at ridiculing and dismissing the subject by identifying it completely with the most extreme positions one could find on the matter.
My initial concern was one related to equity and social justice. Whatever position people chose to reach with regards to the situation, it was very clear that serious information about this issue was not widely available, but instead restricted to those who were computer-literate and had access to the Internet. And, it was clear that those progammers who had access to privileged information, and who as a result were choosing to finance their own "private hide-aways", had economic resources at their disposal that many others do not have.
While the information I was reading about Y2K was difficult to assimilate on an emotional level, Buddhist practice teaches us to look deeply at difficult truths and painful feelings. And, it also asks us to work towards overcoming ignorance in ourselves and in others, especially that ignorance which results in human suffering. At the same time, looking deeply at Y2K reminded me of something that I have always known. As an immigrant from the so-called "Third World", I have always been aware of the tremendous privilege that most of us living in the United States partake of daily. Of course, there are significant differences among us in our life experiences, especially as a result of racism and classism, and I do not wish to downplay these. Yet, with the significant exception of people who are homeless, the vast majority of us in this country have an infrastructure that we take very much for granted. Turn on the tap, water is here. Turn on the lights if it is dark, turn up the heat if it is cold... At the time I learned about Y2K, I was already exploring the issue of privilege from a Buddhist perspective, as part of the Buddhism and Racism Working Group. During the planning of the " Healing Racism in Our Sanghas" event that we hosted in November of 1999, I had been looking at how the Buddhist teaching of the "god realm" (one of the six realms) can deepen our understanding of privilege of various kinds.
Within the Buddhist teaching of the "six realms", the "god realm" is a place of long-life, comfort, and pleasure, into which we are born as a result of the good karma accumulated from previous lifetimes. Yet as pleasant as this realm might be, it is said to not be nearly as favorable for our spiritual growth as the human realm. Lost in their pleasure, beings in the god realm do not realize that their long lives will end until very shortly before their death—at which time they are filled with the terrible anguish of knowing that ancient karma from previous lifetimes might ripen and cause tham to be reborn as an insect or worse, and that they have not spent their pleasurable existence very wisely, and that it is too late now to do anything about it... As our group explored the common ground between diversity work and buddhist practice, I came to view the teaching of the "god realm" as a metaphor for the ignorance that any kind of privilege can create. The deep insight offered by diversity work is that all of us have some measure of privilege. For example, as a (temporarily) able-bodied person, I can, if I so choose, remain blissfully ignorant of what life is like for someone who is differently-abled. Yet if I do so, I miss a myriad of opportunities for developing greater compassion and a greater sense of non-separation with regards to all beings. As many of us are still dealing with lingering wounds from our collective Judeo-Christian heritage, I hasten to add that our privilege need not be cause for overwhelming guilt. Indeed, we may even choose to believe, according to the teaching of the six realms, that we have in fact in some way "earned" our privilege—as long as we remember that our good karma is quite temporary, and due to expire much sooner than we might imagine. As each of us has, over eons of lifetimes, accumulated a vast store of karma in all imaginable flavors, it would be wise that we not allow ourselves to become deluded by whatever relative advantage we might be enjoying at present, as we might at any moment find ourselves on quite the opposite end of the stick...
Therefore, it is not guilt that the story calls for, but rather the awareness that it is in our own best interest to extend ourselves, to remain open to the suffering of others, as well as to the potential of our own future suffering. The story reminds us of how beneficial it can be to keep in mind, always, the awareness that our privilege is finite, and that we would be well advised to use our temporary good fortune wisely... regardless of whether our privilege is based on the color of our skin, or on a highly-developed infrastructure that we have come to take for granted.
As my work on Y2K expanded, it has continued to present a great many opportunities for practice. From a buddhist perspective, uncertainty or "not-knowing" can be a powerful teacher. Even more potent is the contemplation of death. And, there is a close relationship between the two, as in order to enter the state of "not-knowing", we need to face the death of our certainty and sense of permanence. Working with Y2K turned out to be excellent tool in this regard, as the reality is that no one knows what the full range of effects will be. One need not hold extremists views in order to experience the death of one’s former sense of certainty that the future can be taken for granted, that it will continue to hold everything to which we have long grown accustomed. Simply looking deeply into all of the available information can become a quite powerful daily practice.
At the same time, uncertainty need not paralyze us nor keep us from taking action. Just as Buddhism teaches us to live in a way that makes sense, regardless of how long or short our life might be, the value of basic preparedness is that it can only benefit us, regardless of how mild or severe Y2K disruptions turn out to be. If it turns out that we do not need the extra food we have stored, we can always choose to give it away to those in need. Of course, both "not-knowing" and death have an "upside". I have always felt that the purpose of practice is to find a deeper joy, all alienated, angst-ridden, Western buddhist writing to the contrary. Both "not-knowing" and meditation on death, if practiced correctly, can lead to a greater sense of connectedness with all beings. Likewise, the uncertainty we are facing as a society holds within it the opportunity for positive social transformation. The following well-know Y2K quote by economist and futurist Robert Theobald exemplifies the joy that is available to us on the other side of our current attachment to a predictable future:
"The Y2K bug provides us with an extraordinary opportunity to ask ourselves the profound questions which have been buried by our wealth and our technology. It is a time for us to ask what we really value and how we can preserve the ecological systems on which all life depends. It is a wonderful time to be alive."
Other leading writers on the transformative potential of Y2K include Margaret Wheatley and Tom Atlee, two of the leading lights who have been a great source of inspiration to many of us working in this area. Margaret Wheatley’s foundational article, "The Year 2000: Social Chaos or Social Transformation?" highlights how large-scale, systemic problems such as Y2K have the potential to inspire our society to move towards a collaborative, problem-solving approach, where "the best of human creativity is enabled and the highest common good becomes the objective." (Visit Margaret’s website, www.berkana.org, for one of the most comprehensive and best organized sources of information on Y2K.)
Tom Atlee’s vast work in the area of co-intelligence (as presented on his website, www.co-intelligence.org includes a focus on how we can use leading-edge management tools, including Open Space, Future Search and the theory of "learning organizations", to create a more engaging and participatory political process, where our collective wisdom is accessed in order to solve the many systemic problems we face as a society. Yet, while the possibilities for social awakening are certainly present, it remains uncertain whether they will indeed be actualized or not.
While many of us hoped that Y2K would serve as a "wake-up call", inspiring us collectively to greater action, the prevalent public response to date has been one of denial. People from all walks of life have been confused by contradictory information and unwilling to look deeply into the issue for themselves. Too many of us have been too ready to believe the bland assurances offered by the federal government’s media campaign of "happy talk", a campaign based on fear and distrust of human potential. Instead of looking at Y2K as an opportunity to ask deeper questions about our society, we have been lulled by reassurances that Y2K will be nothing more than "a bump in the road". Many of us have not stopped to consider Tom Atlee’s apt question: "What happens when we hit a speedbump going 90 miles an hour?"
While I still believe that humans have an inherent ability to respond intelligently to challenges when given adequate information and emotional support, I now have a renewed appreciation for the power of our attachments to prevent us from waking up to difficult truths. For Y2K activists, this has of course become yet another opportunity for practice, this time for the challenging practice of non-attachment to outcome.
Regardless of what may or may not take place in the future, the work itself has been a source of deep joy and connection in the present. In terms of human relationships, our work has been very rewarding. Across the country, community activists have been taking the lead and initiating cooperative efforts with local government, most frequently offices of Emergency Services at city and county levels, to lay the groundwork for public education campaigns that will generally be in full gear by late summer or early fall. (And, in some places, it has been local government which has taken the lead.)
Of course, the message that we are focusing on is the basic emergency preparedness message, one that is generally applicable to any disaster including earthquake, fire, or flood. In the process of cooperation, we have found common ground. Regardless of the content of our respective visions of the future—from business-as-usual to an ecological, sustainable culture—what we ALL want is as gentle and smooth a transition as possible, to whatever it is that the future may bring.
In the above context, emergency preparedness makes sense to us all, at least as a short-term solution. Yet many of the most worrisome aspects of Y2K are the potential long-term economic effects. Whatever the range of views on our own country’s readiness, from the dour to the sanguine, there is widespread consensus about the lack of readiness of other countries, including many of the countries on whom we depend for our oil imports. Given the global economy that we have created, this has serious consequences for our own well-being, consequences that will not be greatly ameliorated by a week or two’s supply of food and water (or even two months’ worth.) My initial concern over disparity in access to information has grown into a larger concern. Long-term economic consequences of Y2K could easily lead to widening the already growing gap between rich and poor in this country, and world-wide. There is, of course, much that could be done to prevent this, IF enough public awareness and interest could to be generated. However, this work is NOT the purview of emergency preparedness personnel, but rather requires the contributions of people with backgrounds in social change, sustainability, and alternative economics. And, it requires a large-scale social movement which has not been easy to build.
The related lesson in terms of buddhism has been deeper insight into the teaching that there is no such thing as fixed "friends" or "enemies". Many of the progressive people and organizations whom one might expect to be open to the issue, have not yet been willing to look deeply at it. And conversely, we have been finding ourselves working shoulder to shoulder alongside many people with whom we might disagree on other issues. The "mainstream" of Y2K preparedness work in my experience includes everyone from secular disaster professionals, to conservative Christian "good neighbors", to progressive "transformation-oriented" folks. While we may not agree on many issues, we have been learning to work together for the common good and to develop respect and appreciation for each other. As Michael Brownlee puts it, "Y2K is bringing us together."
One key point on which we all agree is that denial is just as dangerous as panic. Conversely, public overreaction could potentially cause as many problems as the excess of complacency which has prevailed up to the present. Finding the "middle path" is, of course, a continuous exercise in balance. As buddhists, we would do well to remember that being of benefit to all beings is not quite the same thing as promoting the illusion of security.
In conclusion, a key source of inspiration and
strength for many of us has been the continued sense that the
enormity of the task at hand truly calls for the creativity,
intelligence, and initiative of everyone. From sending metta
(loving-kindness energy) to our political leaders, to building better
relationships with our neighbors, to deepening our ability to face
difficult issues with inner strength and calm, to sharing
preparedness information with others, there are ample opportunities
for anyone who wishes to do so to make a positive contribution to the
well-being of everyone.
Rosa Zubizarreta first took refuge with His Eminence Tai Situ Rinpoche in 1987. In 1997, she co-founded the Mindfulness, Diversity, and Social Change sangha in Oakland, which practices in the tradition of Thich Nhat Hanh. Her professional background is in the field of education, as a teacher, writer, and translator.
Her commitment is integrating the fields
of spiritual practice, emotional healing, and community activism, to
help create a peaceful and sustainable culture.
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