Our shared disillusionment with the leadership class has been a persistent narrative within the zeitgeist for decades. The archetypical representation of a modern politician is commonly associated with a number of troubling traits - untrustworthy, selfish, greedy, power-hungry, corrupt, deceitful and more. Put simply, the majority of people around the world do not trust their politicians. Meanwhile politics itself, in the words of George Orwell, "is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia". As such, we have come to accept the sad truth that all our leaders come with a price tag, for those who can afford it. And that, in the big picture, you and I are left not only powerless, but also utterly hopeless. Meanwhile, even our sense of hopelessness is not spared from manipulation either. The rise of the "right wing bros club" (the likes of Trump, Bolsonaro, Modi among others) was fueled by this very same hopelessness and mistrust of the political elites. By and large, the bros campaigned on juxtaposing themselves as different from them. Whether it was Trump claiming "I'm not a politician" or Modi's "Chaiwalla to PM" narrative, the overarching message was the same - "Vote for us. We are different". The result, however, was no better (as any discerning observer will agree). These men turned out to be far more crafty embodiments of the same vile impulses - not only greedy, selfish and power hungry like the rest, but also a far more aggressive breed of cunning, morally bankrupt and empathetically challenged. Given their success in securing power, their tested tactic of deceit and manipulation is playing out right now, almost scripted, in many other countries around the world. Yet, despite our unanimous recognition of the defunct nature of the system we live within, we are stuck with business as usual. Time and again, Democracy fails to deliver its lofty promises - promises of leaders who would embody morality, selflessness, public service, empathy, wisdom, compassion; promises of a government of, by and for the people; promises of politicians who would work for the greater good. Instead, we have today a situation, where in the "best democracies", money speaks louder than the vote. And the powerful maintain their hold by reducing entire populations to mindless, materialistic, consumption-addicted, techno-zombies. While in the "lesser democracies" across the developing world, the structures of any democratic system are basically absent, as only the facade of its outer shell suffice. In such places, peaceful apolitical protests are hollow gestures, as pellets and stones, hurled out of frustration, are met with piercing bullets and bloody payback. The failures, however, are not necessarily only systemic. Democracy, in theory, is a good idea. But the way it operates today, incorporates little understanding (or maybe a conscious denial) of the nature of the human condition. Because, in truth, the traits that we disdainfully identify with our politicians, are not unique to them at all. All of us, by the virtue of having and operating our lives from an ego, contain the very same propensities. The seeds of greed, want, desire, selfishness, craving for power, all exist within each one of us with varying degrees of influence on our behaviors. While the impact of such tendencies in the average person rarely goes beyond their own lives, they have far reaching consequences when they play out in someone who is in a position of power, a leader of a community, corporation, religious group, nation, or the world. Yet, Democracy as practiced today, requires nothing more from our politicians other than to be liked. We do not hold our aspiring leaders to any moral, ethical or psychological standard, except maybe a clean criminal record (but even that can be cleaned up post-hoc). We judge them solely by their pre-election words and promises, which inevitably turn out to be empty lies we all eventually recognize as theatrics. Nonetheless, the process continues, on and on, ad infinitum.
In truth, the lofty promises of democracy will never be fulfilled, as long as its practice remains at the level of a popularity contest. What is needed, therefore, is a drastic paradigm shift. Which begins with a recognition that we must demand that those who seek power over our lives, our societies and our planet, must be of a different mold from the rest of us. We must demand that their basest human impulses for egoic desires, personal enrichment, greed and selfishness, are reeled in before they take up the throne of power. We must demand, that our leaders emerge from among those who have faced their inner demons with authenticity, taken journeys within their souls and recognized their inherent human flaws, and embraced, accepted and transcended them. We must demand, in no uncertain terms, that our leaders be enlightened.
The question then follows, how can such a requirement, of enlightened introspection, be implemented in a systemic way within our political structures? Is it enough to get everyone to keep a once-a-week yoga routine? Should there be mandatory therapy sessions prior to and during political office? Should it include mandatory deep meditative practices ingrained into the formalities surrounding the office itself? When done with sincerity, all such practices might indeed induce some level of self-awareness in those who partake. But, given enough motivation and cunning, they are all too easy to fake. A clever client can dupe the best therapist, telling them exactly what they want to hear. Meanwhile, a meditative practice can look very deep from the outside, but nobody can tell what is actually happening within. As such, there is always a danger of such practices becoming at best just a symbolic gesture and at worst yet another PR stunt (Modi Cave Yoga).
Which leads some, like Graham Hancock, to advocate for a more drastic yet foolproof plan, by claiming that "All politicians should be required to drink Ayahuasca 10 times before taking office". Based on my own experiences with psychedelics, therapy and meditation, this makes great intuitive sense to me. In fact, as I see it, it may be the very reason that this ancient medicine and its rituals, have been kept alive in the Amazon rainforest for more than 5000 years. A dozen Ayahuasca rituals can not only induce a deep self-introspection, moral reckoning and coming to terms with one's humanness, but it also promises to forge a visceral connection between the individual and nature and the planetary ecosystem. Such a connection has been sorely missing from our concept of leadership over many centuries, the result of which we see in front of our eyes today, as a collapsing planetary ecosystem. As radical as the solution may sound, our need for enlightened leadership is a very real need today.
F: I could accuse you of the same fault Terence, of sweeping generalizations and knee jerk aversions. T: As is your prerogative of course. But do tell more. F: Your constant tirade against modern science and rationalism , bears within it many contradictions you know. It seems like your demonization of science is solely calling for the glorification of the irrational. How can that not be anything but simply reactionary? T: Granted. I do have a particular bent for the irrational and absurd . And I do seek out and revel in finding the edges of the impossible , the improbable , the unexplainable , and to some the indigestible . But, the way I see it, I am simply tooting for the underdog here. Don't you think the irrational deserves a mascot too, like science is for the rational? F: But don't you find that to be quite myopic, un-ruminated? T: Rationally, yes. Irrationally, well.... F: Now that is just aversion! T: Okay. You got me there friend. But my reverence for ...
The Soul of Time by Trumbull Stickney THE SOUL OF TIME T IME'S a circumference Whereof the segment of our station seems A long straight line from nothing into naught. Therefore we say " progress, " " infinity " — Dull words whose object Hangs in the air of error and delights Our boyish minds ahunt for butterflies. For aspiration studies not the sky But looks for stars; the victories of faith Are soldiered none the less with certainties, And all the multitudinous armies decked With banners blown ahead and flute before March not to the desert or th' Elysian fields, But in the track of some discovery, The grip and cognizance of something true, Which won resolves a better distribution Between the dreaming mind and real truth. I cannot understand you. 'T is because You lean over my meaning's edge and feel A dizziness of the things I have not said. ...
Yesterday, my city, the place of my birth and childhood, was bathed in blood and tears. Deep wounds were inflicted, during an overnight orgy of brutality and violence, in a stunning degradation of all things sacred we have ever held dear. For 13 hours the nation watched, helpless, petrified, and terrorized. The victims: They were one of us Reports that emerged first read '20 foreigners killed in terrorist attacks in Dhaka'. Even as the standoff was diffused, the narrative remained the same - ISIS militants have specifically targeted foreigners in Gulshan area, the diplomatic zone of my city. Its reiterations had reverberated worldwide by last night, when I get a call from a friend abroad. He says 'I am sorry to hear it man. A tragedy. Although it is not a direct tragedy for Bangladesh, really.' Really? Did it really make a difference? I told him how confused we were all feeling about what had just happened. Does it have to matter that apparently no Bangladeshi...
In Berlin, you can actually feel the air fossilized in its history. While one can argue about the phenomenological contradictions inherent in that, the sensation of it is undeniable. The city has seen itself as the focal point of geopolitical watersheds that have shook the foundations of human civilization in the last few centuries - blinding flashes of human achievement, alongside some of the darkest moments of human history. Keeping aside the subjective judgments on these historically gargantuan episodes, Berlin has been "the time" and "the place" of immense significance, many times over. I had heard that the Germans loved their beer. But their newfound pride in their wine was news to me. Therefore, although I found it strange to be having the grape brew one evening in Berlin, Professor I. F. was a man of very specific tastes - namely vino rojo. Sitting on the window ledge of a spacious apartment in Wedding, we had been mumbling through the didactics and reveri...
This is a story set in my city, Dhaka, when one autumn day in the early '90s, hundreds of people gathered outside Dhaka Central Jail in protest. They were seeking to stop the hanging of a man who was apparently on death row, within the premises. However, the problem was, the man was not in the jail at all. In fact, he never existed. When I was 8 years old, Bangladesh was a country of 120 million. Dhaka was a city of 7 million. And we all had 1 television channel we could watch - Bangladesh Television. Back then, a TV was a matter of novelty. And coloured TV sets were only the luxury of a select few in Dhaka. It was a time when people across the country were crowding around the one television set in their villages. Congregations formed inside lone huts juiced up by a stolen power line, where scores of people would gather to watch the entertainment. The magic box would bring us a select range of programming - from the state-scripted nightly news, to heavily censored 80's Ame...
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