DRAFT: 4.30.1998

Millennium

The opening of a new century has always served as a symbolic turning point in human history. The 21st century is not an exception. The world stands at a historical juncture between the roads of self-destruction and self-renewal. On the one hand, an environmental catastrophe, a nuclear holocaust, a war among ethnic groups, or among powerful regional blocs (fortress North America vs. fortress Western Europe vs. fortress East Asia), a population explosion of unprecedented magnitude, a division of the world between gated rich and poor ghettoes, and a protracted terrorist war between the rich and poor, armed by conventional and unconventional weapons, all seem to be distinct possibilities. On the other hand, human achievements in science, technology, telecommunication, education, and social organization have opened up new potentials for reaching new heights in human civilization. The conquest of ignorance, poverty, and suffering, the achievement of a new harmony among nations and between nature and humanity, and the development of a new sense of world community for the exploration of the outer and inner spaces, all seem within reach.

Centuries, as all measurements of time, punctuate our fragility and finitude. But they also occasion reflection on that fragility and finitude. It is no surprise therefore to find a cottage industry growing at the end of each century in general and this one in particular that apocalyptically proclaims the end of history (Francis Fukuyama), geography (Vincent Mosco), modernity (Vattimo), work (Jeremy Rifkin), university (Eli Noam), and journalism (Elihu Katz). What would life look like without the fun and frolic of history, geography, modernity, work, journalism, and university?

Rest assured that nothing is ending except a century, which is a figment of our own imagination anyhow. In the midst of this clutter of voices, Daisaku Ikeda's reflections represent a breath of fresh air, for it is a message of hope rather than despair. In his annual peace proposal lectures in Tokyo (January 26, 1998), recalling the Russian philosopher Nicolai Berdjaev (1874-1948), Ikeda makes a critical distinction among three kinds of time: cosmic, historical, and ontological. Cosmic time (light years) marks the evolution of the universe; historical time punctuates human days, weeks, years, and centuries; ontological time celebrates the timelessness of being. As a Buddhist leader, Ikeda suggests that Nirvana or Enlightenment is awakening to the timelessness of ontological time, seizing the moment for its joy of life. The great Sufi poet Rumi, a 13th century contemporary of the Buddhist leader Nichirin, has a similar view:

"Consciousness represents our awareness of the past.

The past and future are curtains that conceal God.

Burn the curtains, for how long

Will you continue as a knotted reed?

To suffer from the burdens of time?"

Natural spirituality can lead us to liberation from the burdens of time. Nevertheless, we also live in cosmic and historical times that bring us suffering. It is through natural spirituality that we can overcome this suffering by assuming cosmic and historical responsibility for the celebration and continuation of life. When Lord Buddha was asked, who are you(a God, an angel, or a prophet(he replied simply, "I am awake!" The term for God in Persian (Khodaa), the language of Rumi, is Self-awakening. It is the Bodhisattvas of the Earth and the Sufi masters (pirs) who by their own model of social engagement present us with participation in an eternally present moment(a spiritual gift of the human condition. Cosmic and historical time cannot be therefore dismissed without serious damage to our natural spirituality that cares for all beings. By cutting us from social life, monastic renunciation is thus self-defeating. As we strive to transcend historical time, we must also be children of our own times by taking responsibility toward life threatening trends.

This brings us to our own historical moment. Globalization may be characterized as the most powerful trend of our own times. The process has been going on for the past 5000 years and will perhaps continue for the next 5000. However, since the end of the Cold War, it has gained considerable momentum by drawing the former Sino-Soviet bloc, Asia, Africa, and Latin America into the vortex of pancapitalist development. The abstract and anonymous forces of the global markets, electronic communications, and military domination appear to leave little room for individual human freedom and agency. Yet, our natural spirituality ceaselessly calls for our involvement to preserve life against the forces that threaten it.

To draw a sketch of the human drama being enacted on the world scene, we may argue that three historical forces are currently the main protagonists: markets, states, and civil societies. In recent decades, markets have led the way through the global reach of some 30,000 transnational corporations (TNCs). Superstates, such as the G7, have collaborated with the TNCs to open up new markets such as those in the former Sino-Soviet bloc. Smaller and medium states, such as those in the less developed countries, have tried(often unsuccessfully(to defend their national interests vis-à-vis super-state and TNC encroachments. Intergovernmental organizations (IGOs) have become the main arena in which the conflicting interests of the large, medium, and small states are negotiated. In the meantime, the global civil society has organized itself into some 40,000 non-governmental organizations (NGOs), such as Greenpeace and Amnesty International.

The struggle among the three protagonists is an unequal one. Of the top biggest economic units in the world, over 50 percent are TNCs. A typical TNC is larger in assets and income than a typical small or medium state. In this struggle, the NGOs have little if any clout. That is why economic globalization is way ahead of political and cultural globalization. As we have witnessed in the recent Asian economic debacle, political institutions have not been able to regulate and moderate the excesses of financial markets. Similarly, the market forces have debased global cultural institutions. In one arena, for instance, this has resulted in CocaColonization and McDonaldization of the world eating and drinking habits to the detriment of the world's rich diversity of cuisine. Moreover, global advertising is whetting the appetites for consumption well beyond the Earth's carrying capacity. As UN reports show, growing gaps in wealth and income among and within nations is another dangerous outcome of this state of affairs.

As Gandhi once remarked, this world has enough for all of us but not enough for the greed of a single person. How can the balance between economic, political, and cultural globalization be redressed? There are those who argue that we must return to an earlier age of strict national sovereignty, economic barriers to trade and investment, and cultural protection of national identity. However, that solution does not appear to be either realistic or necessarily desirable. As a globalist, Ikeda has proposed the formation of an NGO organ within the United Nations to represent the views and interests of civil society. To follow this logic, the General Assembly could have two branches consisting of a People's Assembly and a State Assembly. For the United Nations to become truly an organization of nations rather than states, such reform is absolutely necessary. The European Parliament, elected directly by the peoples of the European Union, has already set a successful precedent for such transnational institution.

On the cultural front, all efforts should be focused on the survival and preservation of cultural diversity that is being threatened by the global forces of cultural homogenization. Nevertheless, these efforts cannot and should not stop the globalization of the universal cultural values of human rights, tolerance, nonviolence, and environmental protection. As Gandhi once said, I wish to have the windows of my house wide open to all currents, but I will not allow those currents to sweep me off my feet.