I hesitated to send these thoughts to you, in part because of feeling it was useless, and in part, perhaps, on account of sloth (my own). Yet I am urged to try now again because I am moved by the manner in which you speak about listening. In writing this letter to you, I hope you will listen. What I have to say may not be pleasant, so brace yourself, or perhaps pause and chant daimoku. I will begin with my response to the dialogue you held on the theme of the mentor-disciple relationship that was published in the April 2002 Living Buddhism and then go on to other matters. The writing itself is going to meander along the lines of feeling rather than trying to make a concise and logical argument.

I was made uneasy by the reading of your mentor-disciple dialogue. I pondered in front of the Gohonzon on the cause of my disquiet. Perhaps it was engendered by the artificial format of the dialogue: it was not a real dialogue, but a staged one, in which the questions were not actual questions troubling the questioner. The answers, too, were pre-established, it was a closed dialogue where no discovery or revelation was possible because each of the interlocutors had already made up her or his mind concerning what the answer's content would be. I had the feeling that the intent of the dialogue was to sell me a bill of goods, to twist my psychological arm in order to force me to move to the position of the interlocutors, rather than to open my mind and my life to new and as yet unrevealed possibilities that might be inherent in the Buddhist practice.

The questioner's hypothetical questioning was a sham because those who might have asked the questions were not present and so you ended up with a demographics of FAQ rather than the soul of an individual who is attempting to practice Buddhism sincerely but is tormented by a multitude of inner doubts (the origins of which, I might add, have been generated, and over time aggravated, by the generally clumsy presentation of our faith in the SGI-USA publications, and by the remaining fanaticism, narrow-mindedness and plain inertia of many leaders).

This sort of presentation is cynical in essence because it denies the singularity of the individual, reducing it to a type: the approximation of the human being, which is essentially a past-oriented attitude. The format itself is deceitful because we are asked to play along with the pretend drama of the dialogue. It is a humiliating experience because this set-up descends, by making the pretense of the scenario so obvious, to a level of intelligence below that of the readers.

While this sort of presentation is convenient for those who have a wish to present their point of view (and who have the privilege of presenting this view in the SGI-USA publications -- in other words, the well-pruned language of those who have access to the SGI-USA media), it is frustrating and demeaning to the readers who might have disagreements and feel their true questions are being neither asked nor answered. This is endemic of a leaning which is ubiquitous in our organization: the answers have already been prepared by the command post, they have been well-rehearsed, and though the organization on the surface no longer (for the most part) overtly condemns those who ask the difficult questions, the pervasive attitude remains that there are the good members who are willing to submit to the command post's program, and the troublemakers who are essentially troublesome because they have an independent bend of mind.

Again, I felt that none of the interlocutors was honest in expressing her
or his personal frustration or problem in challenging the difficult dilemma
of this subject. It was a foregone conclusion that they were already occupying the position of doubt-free disciples: it's only the rest of us readers who were not, and the interlocutors were expounding from the seat of pontification. The overall effect is that one feels being talked down to, as though the interlocutors "know more than you do," establishing thus a hierarchy in President Ikeda discipleship.One gets the sense the interlocutors had not worked out this thorny issue for themselves; the dialogue betrays an anxiety, as though it is more important for the participators at this late date to convince the members than their own selves; that it is more important to preach than to let the truth of their own searching doubts come out. More than anything, because of its anxious pontificating, the dialogue achieves exactly the opposite of what it sets out to do: it awakens my suspicions as to your purposes.

Briefly, what the essence of this "dialogue" is, rather, what came through
for me personally, whether clear to the interlocutors or not, is that President Ikeda is a sort of an intercessor between believers and the Gohonzon. Though not stated directly, one draws the inadvertent conclusion that it is President Ikeda and not the Gohonzon, which is the essential focus of our practice. Or to put it more exactly, the implication is that either, one, not just the Gohonzon is absolute but President Ikeda is too (and this creates enormous confusion), or two, that the Gohonzon may be absolute in theory but sincere prayer and practice to the Gohonzon is not enough to awaken the entirety of the Ten Worlds. This is, in my opinion, something akin to what, according to strict Buddhist doctrine, might be termed as "slander."

As for me, it made me more confused in front of the Gohonzon. It barred the direct connection between the Gohonzon and myself. And it is the direct connection between the believer and Gohonzon, which we claim makes us superior to the temple sect, is it not? (The same issue is endemic to Christianity as well, that you can find God only through Jesus Christ.)

Before I go on, let me make myself clear: I am by no means in any way against President Ikeda. Though I do not know whether I can call myself a disciple or not -- I take issue with some of what I read that he says in the SGI-USA publications -- during my over 23 years of consistent practice, I utilized much of President Ikeda's guidance and advice to great advantage and benefit to myself. For instance, I feel that my present success as an educator is due essentially to doing my best to apply his guidance about becoming aware and taking care of each unique individual student.

President Ikeda himself stated in 1990: "...it should be pointed out that the 'Law', not the 'person' is to be regarded as the proper standard in all things. Putting the person first gives you an uncertain standard; it is to let that person's mind become your master. At some point, relations based on such standard will become like those existing between a paternal, godfather-like figure and those bound to him by personal loyalty."

(We know very well what and whom he is talking about. I recall reading a
transcript of what President Ikeda really said on that occasion, and not merely the diluted translation that ended up in Seikyo Times.)

There are, I feel, many issues at hand, which thwart the growth of Buddhism in this country. The difficulty in accepting the mentor-disciple relationship was created by our organization itself. This is merely a personal observation, but it has been my experience that those who claim and proclaim their discipleship most forcefully have been simultaneously the most unattractive leaders: they are people who generally have not one original idea, who say nothing convincing which comes from their own personal experience or awakening, but only quote from President Ikeda endlessly, (and I might add, in the translation that SGI Plaza finds most appropriate), and speak glowingly about President Ikeda's itinerary.

And this is something we must seriously look at: the sort of person who manages to climb through the ranks in our organization: it has been customary, I have observed, to give positions of high leadership to those most versed in trumpeting repetition of the Gakkai mottoes, people without a single original idea or thought. The only people who become leaders are the obedient bees who do the gruel work without asking too many questions, those who tow the line cast from above. And we know very well what cost us to follow without questioning. (The other custom is to give positions of leadership to those with Japanese spouses.) The leader who claims the most discipleship, who forces his or her waving of the Ikeda flag on the members, can become, in the members' minds, the intercessor between President Ikeda and themselves; thus anyone who claims discipleship loudly and in "Gakkai-speak" can control and manipulate the members' minds; can become a sort of a superego in lieu of President Ikeda. Thus President Ikeda becomes, in the minds of the members, a big brother, a father figure whose superhuman personality is a judge of their behavior, thoughts, desires, prayers.

I don't think this is President Ikeda's wish but I do feel that the organization uses this general ambience to manipulate the members. How many times, for instance, do we hear leaders comment that this or that member doesn't have President Ikeda's spirit?

And there is a very thorny question which emerges here: the previous, pre-1990 top leadership, also claimed, nay, trumpeted, more, forced upon the members, their discipleship to President Ikeda, just as much as this present administration does, if not more. Who are we to trust?

The issue of losing identity, which was brought up in your dialogue, which
perhaps many members fear in attempting discipleship, was dealt in your dialogue with what I perceive to be dishonesty or blindness. The comment
that those who fear loss of identity do not have a solid identity was shallow, inconsiderate, more, lacking compassion and understanding; and it was intended to manipulate. It is not at all a matter of fear of identity loss, as the interlocutor mentioned. It is that in the past, (and this has changed only on the surface), the practices of the organization were such that it led to mistrust of the leadership: the forced marriages, the intervention of the leaders in the members' private lives, the dictating of behavior and dress-code, and the organization itself condoning, more, demanding obedience to leaders. (How can you forget that?) This I witnessed myself, this went on incessantly, all under the rubric of mentor and disciple. If this had not been so, no one would worry now about losing identity.

I even recall George Williams cynically quipping, in an attempt at what he must have termed humor: "What do you mean loss of identity, don't you have the NSA identity badge?"

Again, it is not so much fear of losing identity but rather fear of becoming like many of the top leaders that one simply cannot admire who constantly claim their discipleship. Watching them or listening to them speak, one wonders what is so great about the mentor.

In the 1980s we were forced to take on the thorny task of trying ad infinitum to explain to new members George Williams' militant tactics and excessive behavior; we are now forced to explain discipleship with the same knot in our throats, the same forced breath; and, what are we to conclude now when we are suddenly obligated to face the same militancy by being shown unexpectedly, at Kosen Rufu gongyo, videos of uniformly clad young men shouting their affirmations with raised arm in stomach-turning unison to President Ikeda? How is this going to enhance our discipleship? (Your dialogue reinforces this by commenting that now we have videos of President Ikeda to help us enhance our discipleship!)

I hear members currently commenting that their guest was highly embarrassed or offended, or saying they are happy their guest didn't show up. I can't help getting the feeling that this administration, just like the previous one, has a political agenda, one which is totally out of touch with the feelings of the members, that it is formed merely of an isolated group rejecting veritable contact with outside society. In other words, very much like the priesthood we shun. How can this administration complain that new "independent" groups -- however misguided -- are being formed?

And why are we forced to face Danny's discomfort and bizarre and nervous behavior with President Ikeda during the Moorhead video? Is there no awareness among the ranks of this present administration of the effect that form of behavior has on the members? I recall seeing this particular video at a meeting and noticing how nervous and uncomfortable and confused it made the new members. I can see them continuing their practice bravely despite this confusion, continuing their practice, yes, but at what cost? There is now the shadow of guilt and discomfort that troubles their hearts.

As an aside, I feel that until the evil of the past pre-1990 years is honestly unveiled in the publications, we will not have Kosen Rufu. We have mostly only eliminated a great deal of the mid-level leadership who were
witnesses and who at the beginning of the new period were vociferous about their feelings and past injustices. So much of the soul of SGI-USA, the mid-level leadership who fought the fierce campaigns of the 1980s and asked the hard questions after 1990, is now removed, and an irreplaceable void remains.

The issue, as I see it, is not whether President Ikeda is the mentor or not
but rather about the sort of control and manipulation the command post of
the organization is exerting in order to get the members to come to its
point of view. So there can be no voluntary accepting (or embracing, rather) but an anxious joining of the ranks out of fear. Because if discipleship to President Ikeda is the truth, the optimal alternative, why not allow for a more open discovery of this truth, why all this anxious pontification? The interlocutors speak of a voluntary sort of discipleship, but how can it be voluntary when you twist the psychological arm of the believer by implying their practice is incomplete without it? Is it enlightenment that we seek, or organized group frenzy? From your interview and the SGI-USA publications in general, it is the latter that appears to be true. I cannot help but agree with what I recently heard someone define SGI-USA: corporate Buddhism.

I can only pity the new members who, if they did manage to make it through the dialogue, will only be more confused because of this new requirement demanded of them. It makes me think of a passage from the Gosho On the Stages of Faith and Practice: "Such a person will be like a small ship that is loaded with wealth and treasure and sets out to cross the sea. Both the ship and the treasure will sink." And when we introduce a new person to the practice (if we follow your train of thought), will we now have to tell them that in addition to chanting they also have to become disciples?

Most people, I feel, would love nothing better than having a mentor. There is no need to force them into it; but the interlocutors' anxiety about the matter suggests that there is a poison that they need to swallow.

In general, the language of the publications is rhetorical and reduces the human being, reduces ichinen sanzen, to an embarrassing and humiliating series of pre-coded superlatives. The writers generalize, they approximate people; not one of them speaks his or her heart. It's the language of trying to prove something too hard, a language the writers themselves do not really believe. The rhetoric feels like a cover-up, but a cover up for life itself. The cloud of the "official self" hangs over our organization and adumbrates the lives of the members. (Does the Gosho not say that "it is the heart which is the most important"?) This language becomes both a hierarchical construct and a constraint: it protects those who become top leaders. It seems that in order to become a top leader you must master this decaffeinated saint argot.

Everything is reduced to a few mottoes as though life itself is forced to
assemble in the straightjacket of the few pull-quotes taken from the SGI-USA translations of President Ikeda's guidance, as though these mottoes were a caliper by whose measurement you must gauge your life's processes, your sincerity, which must not be allowed to wander out of the constricted tracks pre-designed by the writers of the publications. There is little or no emphasis on the personal journey. It is not, for instance, that "winning over yourself" is wrong, or that "fighting for others" is not a good thing; it is just that when each life experience is forced to fit into mottoes, resentment occurs. Joyful daimoku disappears. It is as though a hatred of life itself, unless strained through blurbs taken from President Ikeda's guidance, permeates the texts of these writers. (It feels as though they are promoting a form of original sin that life itself is imbued with unless saved by the graces of those mottoes, sacred Gakkai cows.)

And then we wonder why the members have no self-confidence, no self-esteem! It is the forced and artificial language of the publications that makes them sick.

The Gosho says to look within and find the world of Buddhahood: but what sort of Buddhahood is that when your identity is reduced to the embarrassing language-identity of the publications?

Winning over yourself has another implication: that you're bad unless you
beat yourself up enough so you can win over yourself: none of the writers
realize -- unless they do and do so on purpose -- that this frustrating language they use will make the members schizophrenic: on the one hand the Gosho says, and you too, that you can achieve enlightenment as you are, but then you are not good enough as you are as you need to win over yourself. It is as though one were a disease one must be cured of.

In general, the writers of the publications dull the reader with stupefying, prozac-like commonalities, utterly forgetting that the Gohonzon is a mystic agent. Sometimes you encounter such absurdities as for instance that Nam-Myoho-Renge-Kyo does not transcend physical laws; as though physical laws were not simply discoveries made by people without the enlightened eye. (This last ironically in the same issue of the World Tribune where Carlos Santana -- not a member -- speaks of communicating with, feeling, the invisible forces of the universe.) It almost appears as though these writers wish to keep the members down.

It is also curious that we only get President Ikeda's guidance and not anyone else's. In the eighties, for instance, we would sometimes get Mr. Tsuji's guidance, which was indeed freeing. Recently a long and wonderful and veritably liberating article by a Dr. Obo made its way to some of the membership via the internet; this sort of guidance is sorely needed to be heard by the full membership, yet the publications chose not to pick it up.

I brought this guidance in its off-the-internet form to our planning meeting and proposed that it be a discussion topic for the district meeting. Suddenly, nearly the entire North Carolina SGI leadership showed up anxiously at the meeting, an unusual occurrence -- as they had rarely visited us before, especially in this convoy format. And we were admonished to use the publications and not what comes off the internet, even though Dr. Obo's article had been published in the Japanese SGI periodicals and lectures about it were given in New York City. One of the leaders finally concluded that we read the publications because it causes us to chant daimoku. I replied that the publications do not make me want to chant daimoku, that I have to chant daimoku to want to practice again after reading them, but that in fact reading Dr. Obo's article did deepen my faith in Buddhism. To make a long story short, the result of this event was that now the leadership here views me with suspicion.

It is distressing the flow of official SGI-USA information is delivered via
narrow and constricting spigots. Even President Ikeda's guidance -- how can we tell the translations we get are accurate? The President Ikeda I have seen "live" is not the same President Ikeda we get in the publications. The discrepancy between President Ikeda's actual verbal performance (as rendered into English to us by his translator) and the diluted version in the pages of March 1990 Seikyo Times is glaring. The disclaimer at the start of that issue was a sham and many people expressed their discomfort especially in light of the turmoil in the wake of President Ikeda's departure. A turmoil, I will add, which the top level leadership at the time attempted to quell very quickly and succeeded well in doing so by hiding behind the emerging priesthood issue which at the time was really a non-issue in the United States. As a matter of fact, it was that particular organizational over-reaction that caused so many members to go over to the temple. It is still the case -- and this was never dealt with honestly -- that those who abandoned the SGI for the temple did so because of their treatment in the organization.

It was embarrassing for instance to witness the lachrymose antics of the departing tyrannical leader of NSA, who devoid of his throne now merely flaunted his marionette at a pitiful pitch. That period remains a shameful stain in the short history of NSA/SGI-USA. Changing the name changed nothing except the varnish. As I mentioned, the mid-level leadership of the eighties is, to a large extent, gone. The new emphasis on youth will solve nothing because they will make the same mistakes that were made in the eighties and what will happen when they, too, wake up?

I know I took a lot of your time, which I am sure is precious. But I am being vociferous in matters of Kosen-Rufu, as President Ikeda bids us to, hoping against hope that it will make a difference. I chant daimoku, and have been doing so consistently, along with participating in Kosen-Rufu, for more than 23 years, and I am concerned about the future of Kosen-Rufu in this country, and the future of the world. I regret to say that, in its present condition, I am not seeing SGI-USA as being in tune with the times and making a substantial difference; I am not seeing our organization as being a major force for change. I am very sorry to say this. Perhaps it will happen at an individual level, but I do not see it happening at the organizational level. Still, I do hope this letter will be a spring for future dialogues.

With my best wishes,

Julian