 |
|
 |
 |
 |
|
| |
4. 'Pax Humana,' Plan B for
Peace |
|
|
|
“Nothing is more
barbarous than war. Nothing is more cruel. And yet, the
war dragged on. Nothing is more pitiful than a nation
being swept along by fools.”
—Daisaku Ikeda, The Human Revolution
Wars are usually waged in the name of peace, for the sake
of a nation. Our faith in force as an ultimate guarantor
of peace has been robust since the ancient past, and in
this cult of force, we keep going back to the fabled grandeur
of Rome as a model of peaceful society achieved through
the absolute superiority of military power. This vision
of peace by force is called pax Romana, or Roman peace.
The material foundation of pax Romana was a formidable
institution of armed forces, and its spiritual mainstay
the Roman virtue of pietas, that is, the citizens’
selfless dedication to gods and the state. In the recent
history of our nation, this vision of peace is also known
as pax Americana.
The first Roman emperor Augustus (63 B.C.E.–14 C.E.)
brought peace and prosperity chiefly through the overwhelming
strength of his army against “barbarians”
such as the Celtic and Germanic peoples, whom the Romans
thought of as moral and cultural inferiors, living both
within and without his conquered territories. The popularity
of his newly established imperial government was strong,
as one historian wrote that Augustus “conciliated
… the world by the amenities of peace” (Tacitus,
Annals, trans. John Jackson, 1. 2.). Virgil sang of Rome’s
divine mission to rule the world: “Roman, remember
by your strength to rule / Earth’s peoples—for
your arts are to be these: / To pacify, to impose the
rule of law, / To spare the conquered, battle down the
proud” (The Aeneid, trans. Robert Fitzgerald, 6.
1151–54.). Pax Romana, however, did not last long;
nor were Rome’s boundaries forever expansive. The
empire gradually started to experience more and more revolts
in its provinces and invasions on its frontiers.
As deeply as faith in force has been rooted in our minds,
force has consistently betrayed our expectation to create
substantial peace. Although many emperors and kings, presidents
and premiers, promised the sweetness of peace through
the bitterness of war, they have not yet succeeded in
the alchemy of transmuting fire and sword into the dove
with a olive branch. This failure may be seen most recently
in the rapid transitions from World War II into the Cold
War, and from the Cold War into the global war on terrorism.
While the technology of destruction has improved from
rocks to rockets, from manpower to nuclear, the prospect
of peace remains obscured, and the dividend of peace,
however illusive and short-lived, has never been shared
beyond the privileged citizens of powerful nations.
History only makes us wonder what new war will follow
the end of the “never-ending” war on terrorism.
After the long failure of force in achieving peace, it
may be about time to question our faith in force and think
about an alternative vision of peace.
'You must quickly reform the tenets that you hold in your
heart.'
Nothing is more precious than peace. Nothing brings more
happiness. Peace is the most basic starting point for
the advancement of humankind. —Daisaku Ikeda, The
New Human Revolution.
In his treatise “On Establishing the Correct Teaching
for the Peace of the Land,” Nichiren Daishonin offers
“Plan B” for peace worth our serious consideration.
Toward the end of this treatise, which takes a form of
dialogue between the host and his guest about how to create
peace in a violent society, the Daishonin writes in the
voice of the host addressing his guest: “Therefore,
you must quickly reform the tenets that you hold in your
heart and embrace the one true vehicle, the single good
doctrine [of the Lotus Sutra]. If you do so, then the
threefold world will become the Buddha land, and how could
a Buddha land ever decline?” (The Writings of Nichiren
Daishonin, p. 25).
Here “the single good doctrine of the Lotus Sutra”
refers to the essential teaching of the Lotus Sutra, which
is the universality of Buddhahood. This is the idea that
all people—regardless of whatever differences their
existences may present—share the supreme potential
of Buddhahood, which is the source of universal virtues
such as compassion and wisdom, hope and courage. In the
treatise, the Daishonin explains that global peace comes
about only through people awakening to their shared goodness.
Put simply, genuine peace is achieved essentially through
individual inner transformation, not through change in
government. This is a vision of peace radically different
from our accustomed thinking. It is peace forged by faith
in humanity, not faith in force; it is peace created by
the awakened power of the powerless, not by the sanction
and authority of government. This alternative for peace
may well be called pax humana, or human peace.
In this regard, it is important to note that the Daishonin’s
blueprint for peace is not based on a religious sectarianism.
As he later wrote, “I, Nichiren, am not the founder
of any school, nor am I a latter-day follower of any older
school” (WND, 669). For the Daishonin, the universality
of Buddhahood taught in the Lotus Sutra was the essential
truth of life; it is the foundation upon which to build
a global ethics that embraces the diversity of religion
and race.
Also important to note is that the Daishonin saw people
at the center of nation-state, as indicated by the fact
that in his treatise, he often used the unusual Chinese
character for nation by substituting one component signifying
“king” with another signifying “people.”
The Daishonin also addressed Hei no Saemon, one of the
most powerful government officials in his day, as “the
arms and legs of all people” (Gosho Zenshu, p. 171).
Central to the Daishonin’s vision of peace are individuals
awakening to their shared goodness beyond the boundaries
of religion and nation.
The mind without borders conquers violence without borders.
On Feb. 17, 1952, second Soka Gakkai president Josei Toda
addressed the youth upon hearing their study presentations
on Buddhism: “If I may express my own philosophy,
mine is absolutely neither Communism nor Americanism;
it is of the oriental race, and ultimately of the global
race” (Collected Works of Josei Toda, vol. 3, p.
460). Amidst the escalation of the Cold War and the deepening
divisiveness in Asia, Toda reminded youth of the importance
of transcending national boundaries first in their own
hearts. Toda’s idea of “the global race”
points to the individual awakening of a shared humanity
beyond race or nation, as envisioned by the Daishonin.
Spreading its network of destruction from an Afghan cave
to an Indonesian nightclub, terrorism is one of the global
problems without boarders, and as such it requires a mindset
unrestricted by national boundaries. To transform our
self-awareness into that of one global race, therefore,
is of crucial importance for the creation of international
peace.
Two obstacles stand in the way toward the creation of
a global race: nationalism and fundamentalism. They are
the malignant outgrowths of what are ordinary human experiences:
patriotism and faith. Patriotism turns into nationalism
when it asserts cohesiveness through hatred toward other
peoples and draws fuel from a sense of superiority. Faith
turns into fundamentalism when dogmas take precedence
over human happiness and the authority of priesthood mocks
the prayer of the desperate. When nationalism and fundamentalism
merge, the Orwellian nightmare becomes our daily reality:
“War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is
strength” (George Orwell, 1984, p. 3).
The spirit of Nichiren Buddhism, in one sense, is to struggle
against those two roadblocks to peace through the power
of prayer and dialogue. In his treatise on peace, the
Daishonin states, “If you care anything about your
personal security, you should first of all pray for order
and tranquility throughout the four quarters of the land,
should you not?” (WND, 24) And he concludes the
treatise with the voice of the guest awakened to a new
vision of peace, “We must see to it that others
as well are warned of their errors” (WND, 26).
It may seem that peace through individual change is too
indirect and time-consuming to be effective in reality.
But once we as ordinary human beings renounce our faith
in force and start acting on this alternative vision of
peace through prayer and dialogue, we may be surprised
by the power of exponential expansion—as the Daishonin
wrote that “two, three” awakened individuals
are thereupon to be followed by “a hundred”
(WND, 385).
As long as we continue to pray for and talk about the
new vision of peace, the time will come much sooner than
we think when the heads of state must decide whether they
listen to the voices of the new global race or become
irrelevant to the course of human history.
|
|
(Originally published in the World
Tribune, March 28, 2003)
|
|
|
|
|
