The role of the outsider

One area not covered in my recent online interview about The Anarchist Revelation was the idea of the “outsider” and how that fits in with anarchism.

This has been pretty central to what I’ve been writing over the last few years and relates closely to the concepts of “antibodies” and “anarchangels”.

Society (or humanity, or the planet), faced with a serious threat to its health and existence, throws up individuals who feel deeply opposed to the direction it is taking and strongly compelled to do something about it.

The role is more of a burden or responsibility than anything, a (usually non-fatal) form of self-sacrifice for the benefit of the wider community, although also at the same time an essential path to take for the individual concerned, who will forever feel listless, useless and unfulfilled if he or she doesn’t go with the flow of what they have to do.

So it doesn’t imply any kind of elitism or proto-hierarchy. It’s also a temporary role in that it would cease to exist if society changed in the desired way.

Furthermore, the sort of “outsiders” I’m talking about are not the kind of people who would want to assume any power or leadership over others, whether formally or informally. They are poets, prophets and seers rather than directors, controllers and head honchos – that’s in their very nature.

There’s also the added protection (in my formulation) of an anarchist context to the outsider’s struggle. An anarchism that embraces (amongst other things) the outsider mentality can infuse the individual outsider’s vision with anarchist principles and effectively inoculate him or her against any slide towards elitism or hierarchical thinking.

In addition, I have made it clear that the “outsider” process only begins with that sense of despair and alienation rooted in the individual identity. In order to turn this raw material of primal revolt into the gold of useful resistance, a person has to pass through the alchemical stages of ego-shedding, self-purification and the realisation of belonging to a wider whole.

There is absolutely no room here for any egotism, vanity or sense of personal specialness. An initial sense of individuality, and a desire to go deeper into the self, leads us to the discovery that our individuality is in many ways illusory and we ultimately belong to something very much bigger than ourselves.

However, the sense of responsibility that this engenders sends us back towards our individuality again, in the knowledge that we have this very real gift of being alive and are physically able to act for the greater good in a way that an abstract collective entity simply cannot.

This time, as we return to our individuality, all that anxiety and confusion has been replaced by a calm acceptance and a resolve to make ourselves as transparent and clear as possible so that we can best detect and channel the requirements of the greater good (in whichever way we define it) and transform them into action on the physical plane.

The skilful means of anarcho-Buddhism

In this soulless century of destruction and despair, it is heartening to see a growing interest in the connections between anarchist philosophy and the universal ancient spiritual wisdom of humankind.

On May 2 I had the pleasure of attending a talk by young scholar Dr Enrique Galvan-Alvarez that explored one aspect of this important area of research and analysis.

The talk was called “Skill-in-Means and Ends: Formulating a Buddhist Anarchism” and it was hosted by Goldsmiths, University of London.

Dr Galvan-Alvarez started off by countering the common misconception that Buddhism is completely incompatible with anarchism, since one is seen as peaceful and the other as violent.

Explaining the Buddhist concept of upaya kaushalya, or skilful means, he said that this must always have the aim of enlightenment, whether individual or collective. Sometimes, as in Tibet at the moment, the aim of peace is seen as best pursued by means of peace, prefiguring the future society that is desired.

But upaya kaushalya must also be in harmony with its context and at other times resisting tyranny in a non-pacifist way can be regarded as skilful means – for instance, in the 9th century, faced with a king who was persecuting Buddhism, a monk stepped forward and volunteered to kill him.

Of course, this idea can be used by governments – such as in the Japanese state’s concept of a “compassionate war” in which “war is able to exterminate itself”.

But it was also a belief held by the anarchist Buddhists who emerged at the end of the 19th century and the start of the 20th, explained Dr Galvan-Alvarez.

They formulated an alignment of the two traditions, whose similarity is perhaps most evident through their shared vision of a future Utopia.

He spoke of the Buddhist insistence on impermanence – with its implication that the social order as it is now is not a concrete reality that will stand for all time – and discussed the concept of karma.

With time running out, partly because of the discussion prompted by the talk, Dr Galvan-Alvarez spoke briefly about a couple of historic anarcho-Buddhists.

The first of these was Taixu (1890-1947), a Chinese monk who was part of the revolutionary movement and supported propaganda by deed.

His concept of “fraternal love” was derived from a blend of Kropotkin’s theory of Mutual Aid and the Buddhist concepts of compassion (mahakaruna) and Buddha nature (tathagatagarbha). Taixu was also renowned for his opposition to state socialism, declaring: “Only those who embrace anarchism really see government as hell; state socialists see it as the land of bliss.”

Dr Galvan-Alvarez also mentioned Uchiyama Gudo (1874-1911), a Zen monk in Japan who taught that the essence of dhamma (natural law) was equality. He wrote that there were three leeches sucking the people’s blood – the emperor, the rich and the big landowners. The emperor was not descended from gods, he declared, but from thieves. This truth was too much for the Japanese state and Gudo was executed.

An important lesson to be drawn from the talk was that while Buddhism is not identical to anarchism, and does sometimes manifest in very conservative forms, it is eminently compatible with it.

In my view, the same is true of other religious traditions – which all form part of the same universal human spirituality. The outer or exoteric forms, which are most familiar to us, have often been adapted to justify and defend social hierarchies and are nothing more than empty shells.

But, I would argue, the inner – or esoteric – content remains on a different level to the worldly uses to which the religion is harnessed and thus remains a potential source of inspiration for movements that challenge the very social system the exoteric religion is used to prop up.

Ultimately the message of inner religion is oneness – the unity of everything. The individual’s task is to understand this, to shed the illusion of separateness and ego, and then to do their best to act in such a way as benefits the Whole to which they belong.

And, as Dr Galvan-Alvarez pointed out, the skilful means we use depends entirely on context.

Li and the organic freedom of anarchy

It may only consist of two letters in our alphabet, but the Chinese term li strikes me as being particularly important for anarchism.

Alan Watts says as much, in fact, in his book Tao: The Watercourse Way, when he describes the concept around li as “analagous to Kropotkin’s anarchy”.

Li is all about natural order, an innate and organic pattern to life that emerges without external control or direction.

Watts explains: “Though the Tao is wu-tse (nonlaw), it has an order or pattern which can be recognized clearly… This kind of order is the principle of li, a word which has the original sense of such patterns as the markings in jade or the grain in wood.

Li may therefore be understood as organic order, as distinct from mechanical or legal order, both of which go by the book. Li is the asymmetrical, nonrepetitive and unregimented order which we find in the patterns of moving water, the forms of trees and clouds, of frost crystals on the window, or the scattering of pebbles on beach sand.”

He adds: “If each thing follows its own li it will harmonize with all other things following theirs, not by reason of rule imposed from above but by their mutual resonance (ying) and interdependence.”

This concept of organic order is an essential part of the anarchist vision. This is why anarchists don’t accept that we need a state or other form of top-down control to regulate human society – we believe our society can regulate itself, from within and from below, in the same way as other parts of the natural world.

It is also the reason why anarchists don’t generally provide a detailed blueprint for the society we would like to see replace the current industrial-capitalist nightmare. It is no more for us to say what this would be like, than it is for anyone else.

If we really believe in anarchy, in organic democracy, then we can do little more than talk about the kind of way we would imagine people living without the yoke of authority. There certainly can be no question of planning, let alone compulsion.

In order to be comfortable with this position, we need to have complete faith in humanity, we need to believe that, while there will always be problems and conflicts within communities, a critical mass of people are sociable, well-meaning, caring, inventive, courageous or diligent individuals who will naturally come together to form a coherent and healthy society. Our ying, our mutual resonance and interdependence, will ensure that this happens.

The task before us, therefore, is to clear the blockage created by modern civilization and its mindset and thus allow us to rediscover our natural freedom in the invisible and indescribable li.