In “Dharma & Empire,” Mary Thanissara and Vince Fakhoury Horn trace how the structures of Empire occupy not just land but the psyche—moving from their own Irish, Palestinian, and colonial family histories to Gaza, climate, and class—and ask what a more revolutionary Dharma might require of practitioners right now.
💬 Transcript
Vince Horn: So Thanissara, thank you again. Great to be here with you.
Thanissara: Likewise, likewise. Really, really thrilled to plunge into this Insight Diaspora. That was a brilliant capturing of our wandering, homeless group.
Vince Horn: Yes, indeed. I was curious too. I know you started off in the Ajahn Chah tradition — in the Thai Forest Tradition — as a nun in the ‘70s, and I think you were a nun for like 12 years, when I was reading. So that’s a long time.
Thanissara: Yeah.
Vince Horn: Do you consider yourself part of the insight meditation tradition, or were you coming up at the same time that that whole thing was coming up?
Thanissara: I’ve never really designated a category for myself, other than a Dharma practitioner in quite a broad sense. And having said that, most of the development of my practice has been guided through, first of all, the U Ba Khin lineage, which was transmitted to Goenkaji — those teachers were my first teachers from Burma, Myanmar. And then through Ajahn Chah, and that was a very pivotal formation of my practice, because I was young and very shaped by that lineage and the premise that they were teaching from. And then since leaving the robes, I’ve almost entirely taught and practiced within the lay insight world. That’s been a constant adaptation and inquiry, and not a particularly easeful landing. Well, none of it’s been an easeful landing, because it’s all in transition and having to be translated on so many levels. So I guess there’s no end to that in the Dharma.
Vince Horn: That really fits with how I’ve interpreted your work from afar for many years. I’ve always heard you and Kittisaro’s name mentioned together, and I’ve heard about the work you’ve been doing in South Africa and other places with activism. It has always felt like it’s been a little bit on the emerging edge of the insight tradition. You’re not quite inside, but you’re not outside either. You’re influencing but not quite. You all seem to be strange attractors in this community. And I mean that in the best possible way.
Thanissara: No, it’s a good position to be in, I think, in terms of having space from having to conform, and also being able to help shift some of the parameters of what’s allowed to be discussed or what the Dharma is, from within. Also relationship to the folks that I’ve grown to know so well in that movement — having taught a lot or discussed things over many, many years. So there’s a relationship where both being in and out is an awkward reality.
Vince Horn: Yeah, and I can relate to that.
Thanissara: A sense of tension around that, and creativity maybe.
Vince Horn: Yeah, it’s like generative tension sometimes, and other times it’s just tension. That’s my experience anyway of what you’re describing.
Thanissara: Yeah, totally.
Vince Horn: So we spoke recently for the first time privately, and I think it was interesting to me that the first thing we got into was our family histories. It seemed like there’s no way to really avoid talking about that. Not that I want to at this point, but we both share ancestry from the UK, from Ireland, and I know your family moved at some point to London as well. You mentioned to me that your dad was in the military and that he was posted at some point in Palestine, I believe it was.
Thanissara: Yeah. Well, he was a teenage conscript. But he was trying to really escape the poverty that he grew up in, in the tenements of Dublin — which were quite infamous, and still somewhat, although they were closed down in the 1960s. And the oppression, I think, that he felt, even though Ireland was in a process of liberating itself post the 1916 uprising, and then the liberation that started about when he was born, really, 1925 or so. But it wasn’t very liberated for him. So it’s complex, and I think that’s one of the very interesting things about being both colonized, and yet shape-shifting to find a way out through becoming part of, at that time, the war effort of the Second World War. Which was a movement of idealism, but it was a movement of some feeling of needing to break set from not only the economic oppression, but the religious oppression that he grew up under. Of course, the Catholic Church was both extremely oppressive, and it was also the place that people went to for support, to find solace from this unrelenting violence and oppression that had gone on for so long in Ireland under the British. So in that process, he was posted to Palestine and around many places in the so-called Middle East. And I didn’t really know that until quite recently, actually. My elder brother is the holder of history, and somehow in discussion it came out that he was actually posted. And it was very meaningful for me. It’s like, oh my goodness, that he — and apparently one of the things he talked about that my brother remembered was the Irgun, the terrorism that was going on from the early Zionists that were settling. And of course they were also fighting the British as well, blowing up British posts and things. So that was obviously something that really went deep for him in his memory bank. But he never really talked much about any of that, as that generation didn’t.
Vince Horn: Right.
Thanissara: We have probably in common a lot of lost stories, as people shape-shift and assimilate. And there was also a lot of shame for the Irish fighting for the British, particularly in the Second World War. And it was hard to go home. There’s a lot written about that. They were displaced again in another sort of way, because at that point Ireland didn’t join the war effort — they didn’t want to align with the British. So it was a very complex political dynamic that was going on.
Vince Horn: Yeah, that is complex. And it shines a light on the contemporary situation where Ireland is one of the few countries, and their leaders are one of the few, that actually consistently speak up on behalf of Palestinian people. They can empathize with the situation.
Thanissara: Deeply, deeply. So much was shaped by so much bitterness. I mean, if you go to the west — where, when Kittisaro and I were first together, we stayed in County Mayo, which is on the far west coast of Ireland — they still talk about the great hunger as if it was yesterday.
Vince Horn: Wow.
Thanissara: You still see the little crofting houses that were the Black and Tans, who were very, very brutal. In fact, I think they were sent to Palestine after Ireland. You can still see where they pulled down the houses of people and threw them out as they were starving. And I still think — this is another issue — there was such a big silence about the shame of the deprivation of that. It’s only very, very recently that some of the most awful aspects of the impacts of that constructed famine or starvation, really a genocide by the British, are being discussed. While they were exporting food, and it was very, very desperate, and in the workhouses. And then part of the silence was — I remember when Frank McCourt came out with the book Angela’s Ashes, which was a while ago, but it was portraying this period of history in Ireland, the same time when my father grew up, of this extreme poverty and the struggle. And the whole of my Irish family were very upset by this, because they felt ashamed. They were like, “No, it was like —” But in fact, that portrayed some of the conditions that they were struggling with as well in the tenements. So all of these add to the complexity of lost stories, broken lineages. It’s how empire really shapes identity — not just the occupation of land, but the occupation of psyches. And how that takes up real estate in the imaginal levels of people understanding themselves, and how it shapes language and accents and lost histories, and coming to England, having to change the accent, having to pretend to be — It’s such a different — it’s like oil and water, these two cultures of Ireland and especially southern England, where he was. So in the 1950s, where things were very rigid still, late ‘40s, 1950s, when he got married, and then as post-war happened, people had families very quickly. There was no birth control, but also there was a deep reaction to all the horrors and death that was going on.
Vince Horn: In terms of the story level, the way that I connect with what you’re sharing from my own background is — I’ve often thought recently that it was probably my grandmother’s experience of being — her father was Irish, from Northern Ireland, and immigrated to Canada, I think, in the late 1800s. And then my grandfather is Palestinian. I often think it’s her Irish background and his Palestinian background that allowed them to form a mixed-race couple in a time period where it literally had just become legalized, a year before or something, and it was still frowned upon culturally. What actually brought them together — it seems like they had some kind of trauma bond there. They probably weren’t conscious of that, but I can sort of see the complexity of what you’re describing there, where it’s not something you could see on just the surface of things. You’d have to understand some of the history to get what connects people.
Thanissara: Totally. I think the trauma is such a splitting that you’re sort of like lost beings finding each other in this space. Perhaps you don’t consciously understand exactly. It’s a dynamic of consequence. It’s the consequences of what’s gone before, but you haven’t yet got the story or the history, or it hasn’t landed in narrative to help us understand why people get drawn, and then what we’re living through. And I think that’s where the Dharma really is the break point. It starts to give choice in not having to just repeat the trauma pattern, or being that disassociated split where empire leaves people, but begins to help — in some ways ironically, I know we’re going beyond individualism to collective — but there is an individuated journey out of the historic pattern. That is part of what helps us then to start seeing that patterning in the collective, which is a sort of movement of compassion. We’re reactive, but underneath we’re all working as a result of consequence of things said way before our understanding of them, really.
Vince Horn: It feels like there’s some good news in what you just shared around individuation. It seems to mean we’re collecting some agency in the process. We’re not just at the whims of conditions, but we have some influence, even if it’s small.
Thanissara: Exactly. I think that was a big thing for me to realize — this space between reactivity and response. I know it’s an old hat and slightly tired languaging. But it was a very important insight for me when I first began to — a moment. In a monastic life, you’re pushed into a corner, where it activates your deepest patternings. And Ajahn Chah would have this: when you can’t go up or down, you can’t move, then the practice begins. Because you have to find a whole other place from, you know, fight, flight, freeze, fawn, all these patternings. And for me, that was a process of such intensity and such a strong container. In some way I would relate that to the larger dismemberment that we’re going through now, and intensity, in the collective global sphere. We’re reacting from all these old patterns and traumas, and none of them are really where we need to go. So there’s a pressure, like in a monastery, where at some point you have to make a shift from the old patterning to an agency, as you said. That’s the word. Self-reflective agency and choice. And that is the break point, I think. That is the point where we have that almost evolutionary space we can move into. So the intensity then serves some sort of purpose. Not that — if it’s just unconsciously inflicted, then that’s not kind. But in a way, it’s a choice that we’ve made, I guess. To put yourself in a practice situation or monastery, or to be conscious in the midst of what’s happening and not just hide, then you’re putting oneself in a great state of intensity. Without easy solutions. And so that builds and pushes, and something in us alchemically has to — like a diamond under pressure has to not crack, but somehow form that diamond mind. So that’s something I think is hopeful. But we don’t always know that’s happening until it’s sort of happened.
Vince Horn: Like, in the moment of being turned into a diamond, it’s not like, “Oh, I know what’s happening, and it feels great.”
Thanissara: No, it’s awful. How can I get out of it?
Vince Horn: Yes, how can I escape? It seems interesting, the description you’re sharing of being in a monastic environment where you don’t have anywhere to go. And I’m just thinking about my experience of the insight tradition, the modern tradition of going in and out of retreat. Having maybe a local community, maybe not. It doesn’t feel like that frame really can get me to be in the middle of it without having to leave. It doesn’t ask enough of me to do that. So I wonder, as modern practitioners, where we’ve sort of made individualism — at least in the US and most Western cultures — like we’ve made that the key thing, that whatever you choose to do is the most important thing. How do we square that with what’s needed right now, which doesn’t seem like it’s just to give people the choice to do whatever they feel like, which is usually just then picking the status quo.
Thanissara: Yeah, I think that’s a very deep question. I think in part that individuation is a deep reaction to feeling that there wasn’t any —
Vince Horn: Right.
Thanissara: which was true at a certain place, especially perhaps for first-generation practitioners coming out of the trauma of the wars, century war, brutal, and everything else that went on, civil rights, all of those things. And then into the mechanized world of the 1950s, where you’re a cog in this growing capitalist machine, and suddenly breaking out and having these insights that were transcendent, mostly through psychedelics or various means. But I feel the shadow side of that is — the thing I appreciate, to put it another way, is that there’s a depth that you can tap into with the monastic life. It had a lot of difficulties and faults and challenges in it, but mostly I think because it’s very patriarchal, and that’s complex in itself. But the great gift was having to learn a whole deeper level of resource than shifting the furniture around to have the space that you feel you’re comfortable in, or the language or the narrative. And so being unable to do that, there’s a very, very deep releasing. It’s like a death. It’s literally a training, and Dharma is really a willingness to die, in the best spiritual traditions that actually take on that space. And it’s complex, because there’s a lot of psychology that can happen in that moment that actually can break people down or can be abusive. I don’t want to make this super reductive, but fundamentally I think there’s a big piece that has sometimes gotten missed in this new Dharma —
Vince Horn: Right.
Thanissara: which is a surrender or humility, a hanging at the space that’s most difficult to hang, until something can open beyond the self really.
Vince Horn: So the benefit of being in a traditional culture or practice environment when you’re going through that is you don’t have a choice. But that’s also the downside. You don’t have any freedom, presumably, unless you want to be kicked out of the group.
Thanissara: Yeah. It has its downsides, because it becomes then just a one-gear strategy. You just let whatever it is let go. But then there’s also holding, picking up. And so we see that transplanted into the insight world when we meet something like Gaza. This isn’t about just letting go. It’s about discernment. It isn’t about everything’s equal and it’s suffering and it’s samsara. It’s saying we have responsibility and we have discernment, and this is horrific. And therefore we have, as the Buddha did himself, the agency to shift and challenge the status quo when harm is being done, and that is our responsibility. And I think that can so easily get erased with this passivity of the language of, you know, just let go and it’s just samsara. Which is true. I love this expression of Ajahn Chah: “True but not right. Right but not true.”
Vince Horn: Okay, that’s cool. I’ve never heard that line before. That’s a good one. I’ll be chewing on that. I’m curious too, Thanissara. I run into — around talking about things like Dharma and Empire — there’s a whole group of folks that I run into who are very well-educated. They’ve been on some kind of path of individuation. They’ve had some practice, but they just don’t see the argument that we are living in an empire, like the American empire, for instance. And it’s challenging sometimes to try to support people in seeing the ways in which our life is downstream of these other structures and histories. I’m wondering, how do you work with that when you’re teaching on these things? Do you run into that kind of resistance, of not being able or willing to see the interdependent nature of things?
Thanissara: Well, yeah, of course. I mean, it’s not that I’ve been thinking this all the way along or had the language for it all the way along. You feel the impacts, and sometimes it takes a long time to build the narrative.
Vince Horn: Good point.
Thanissara: But I think that part of the complexity is Buddhism has historically always, in terms of a power system — whether it’s a monarchy or the state — it’s always been in some, even the Buddha himself, in some level of alliance with that power, the political or military power, to survive. So it’s left it in a very — it’s not a straight-out liberationally revolutionary movement, say, as you might see some more left-wing liberation theologies coming out of South America, or the civil rights. You can call on that, that the Christ was a liberatory revolutionary in many ways. The Buddha was too, but he also aligned, came from power. And so there is this historic thread of the Dharma. And often it’s not just about finances, but it is. But it’s about placement and acceptance in the culture. And so you see a lot of — it’s like I thought with the mindfulness movement, as it started to sometimes be reduced to: how do you make it in the capitalist system without challenging the system itself.
Vince Horn: Right.
Thanissara: And there’s still a lot of that. And really, for me, the thing that really blew open the languaging around empire was Gaza. Because Gaza revealed everything. It revealed the absolute craven moral bankruptcy of all of these myths of the US, of even Israel — the most moral army, and the forever victim. They’re all part of the logic of empire. They’re all part of the narrative of empire. So I think we’re in this incredible moment where the veils just keep being pulled away. And so we’re screaming about someone like Trump, who of course — everything that’s going on is dreadful, but we’re just seeing what it’s always been, in a way.
Vince Horn: Yeah. That became very clear to me, that Trump is in some sense like US foreign policy for the last several decades come home to roost. This is how we’ve been. And you’d only know that if you know people that are negatively impacted, or you’ve studied the history.
Thanissara: Right.
Vince Horn: And that’s not many people.
Thanissara: Studied the history. No, that is actually a problem. The sort of dumbing down. But, you know, if you take that logic, then at some point when you see where empire is taking us — into normalizing genocide, normalizing a culture of —
Vince Horn: Ecocide.
Thanissara: Well, ecocide and mass extinction, and replacement with AI robotics. I know this is a very complex subject, but not really. The human — and life itself, nature, the erasure, the ICE, the violence, the domination, all of this, fascism. If you see all of that, of where the last gasp of this system is, then what’s the Dharma for at this point?
Vince Horn: Yeah.
Thanissara: You know, this isn’t —
Vince Horn: To keep a smile plastered on our face while everything goes down, I think.
Thanissara: Right. While everything goes — well, but the thing is, it’s getting more and more impactful for everyone. I’m sitting here literally sweating buckets, because this is our new climate. You think we’re going to survive this if a few more degrees, more continuum — it becomes really hard. So we’re all in this stew, even those that think that they can build their bunkers.
Vince Horn: Literally or metaphorically, yeah. I think the way I’m relating to what you’re sharing is, I’m looking at this from the internal journey process view of — oh, I’ve actually worked with this conditioning that you’re describing. I know it firsthand. I know the logic of turning toward the imperial status quo, because it’s safe. There’s a sense of being able to be protected. For me, having come up in a family where some of my family members were obviously not safe, and they were being actively persecuted, especially after 9/11, being safe made a lot of sense. Trying to stay safe, not sticking out. I understand that logic. There’s the survival logic there. And part of the reason I was able to do that is because I could pass as being part of the dominant culture. People look at me and they don’t see a Palestinian, so I can — unless they’re Arab, and then they do see. But there’s that sense of, what is the wisdom of hiding? It makes sense on a personal level, like your dad trying to get out of the tenements, trying to find some better situation, not knowing that the better situation for him is still causing suffering for others, perhaps.
Thanissara: Right. He became co-opted in the empire. And as working class, poor people, indigenous-line worlds have consistently been fighting for the British, as you’ve read at the table. I mean, there are levels of privilege that I think you have more responsibility — in a culture where for some it is more dangerous to stand out. Maybe they’re brave to do it, but they’ve been more historically targeted. So I think there is a personal reckoning. I feel that very much of the work in South Africa for nearly three decades post-apartheid. And it was very conscious for me — I didn’t want to take payment. I felt it was a deep act of reparation, actually, to have been gifted pretty much pristine white land, to get it to a place where it could be returned to a young, diverse group that could run the center. Or to help start projects that can help women in rural areas, deep rural African areas, become trainers and supporters in their own community when they were impacted by the AIDS pandemic. So I just felt historic responsibility. It’s not that I’m consciously going, I’m doing this because of that, but it’s there. It’s wedded in, as a white person having had a lot of privileges.
Vince Horn: Right. I think that’s the hard part for so many people — acknowledging not just that I have privileges, but that those privileges came at the cost of so many others and their opportunities. Being able to open to that truth, and the shame that comes with that, and the guilt that can be present. It’s like, oh, that’s overwhelming. I don’t want to go there. I’ll just watch some more Netflix or whatever. Maybe my meditation retreat will help.
Thanissara: Well, I don’t think we have to flagellate ourselves. But for me — it’s not that I didn’t feel a lot of white guilt. It was a very sort of shadow there, moving through the post-apartheid world of South Africa. And in many other situations. But it’s like a karmic reckoning. It’s just a measured contemplation for me of, what’s the deep karma here that I’m responding to? It’s not necessarily personal. It may be ancestral. I don’t even know who did what, but it’s just come to me on my plate. And it’s personal and beyond. Palestine, when I heard about my father, connected a lot of dots for me. It would anyway, because it’s just so unjust, so profoundly horrific, what’s been happening — not just in Gaza, but for so long. But it was connecting to say, oh, there is karma. That’s pretty close. I think it’s just the way the Buddhist worldview has integrated into my understanding over a long period of time.
Vince Horn: And that’s a distinctly different view than I sometimes hear from the more — I guess I’d call it the more neoliberal Buddhist spaces, where there’s a lot of focus on social issues and social justice. And Mushim, who’s also here, we’re going to talk about this in a few weeks more directly. It does seem to sidestep the whole issue of class, which is so much at the core of what empire is. It’s like some people are benefiting from these mechanisms, and that benefit is going up to the top of a very small class of folks, and that seems to be how the capitalist empire of America works — it’s built on top of the bone-breaking work of so many people who then feel ashamed, like it’s their fault that they’re not doing better. Which is the kind of twisted logic that keeps that going.
Thanissara: Yeah, no, it’s very — it’s brutal in the US, actually. This feels to me like there are very few safety nets or softening. And there’s deep resentment that the working class have been so shafted. With all of their jobs being sent overseas, and the complete collapse of worth and placement. And I think particularly for men, this has been very — in those traditional spaces — it’s given rise to a lot of toxic masculinity. And all of it has been driven by this brutal capitalist profit machinery, to the point where this billionaire class are extremely dangerous to humanity. They’re extremely dangerous. With the wipe of a pen — I was just reading from The Lancet that Musk’s closing down of all of that American aid that was going — we used it a lot, PEPFAR funding for the AIDS pandemic, the medical. It was very important for a lot of the projects. And people die. They’re saying a huge amount of people, 40 million or something, are going to die, as one billionaire just goes, “Ugh, we just get rid of this.” No collective consideration, no sense of that karma. What do we owe? What does he, as a white South African, owe? And his father extracted the mines. So all of this is lacking wisdom, lacking depth, lacking consideration. And it isn’t necessarily the case that — I mean, we have that billionaire class, but in the UK system of the upper classes, they were also brutalized in some ways. And I’m not feeling particularly sorry, but the boarding school systems — they’re emotionally, deliberately, emotionally stunted, so they could go out and perpetuate this cold empire. And do the business without feeling it very much. So there’s a lot of damage on that level. And you see it in the elite class, the political class of Britain. You see a lot of this emotional stunting. They can’t relate, they can’t feel, and they’re dangerous. So I think all of these things — and everyone is subject to suffering, wherever they are. But unless we understand the internal causes of that, then there’s always a sense we’re compensated by material gain. This is one of the fundamental illusions that we’re under in this capitalist system. So all of this I really think we should be talking about in the Dharma scene, and with a more revolutionary spirit. Because it’s not just going to be a change of policy here and there. There’s such a deep level of systemic shift that has to — and psychological, and of consciousness, underwritten by an understanding of: we’re all in one entangled reality. So it’s a job, I think, of Dharma folks to help narrate that, and help bridge and find ways through, and help illuminate the task at hand, at depth, not just at policy level.
Vince Horn: Thank you. Thanks for that lion’s roar. Thanissara, is this a good time to open it up for other folks’ comments, questions? We’ve got about 12 minutes here. If there’s anything else you want to share before we do that.
Thanissara: No, no. I don’t think I should, sorry. I’ve been on my high horse.
Vince Horn: Well, you know, the lion’s roar — maybe there’s a high horse that the lion sits on sometimes. But I hear a lot of wisdom in what you just shared, and I appreciate it.
Join Us Live Next Week:
If telling the truth can cost everything, what does our silence cost? Vince Fakhoury Horn and Daniel Klein speak about complicity, self-betrayal, and the quiet we mistake for peace.
