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Zen and the Art of Dissatisfaction – Part 2.

/ Mikko Ijäs / Jätä kommentti

The Second Crisis: Shaping the World Through Artificial Intelligence

Originally published in 24 February 2025 on Substack https://substack.com/inbox/post/157820189

While the first and greatest upcoming crisis is the environmental crisis: climate change, pollution, and mass extinction of species, the second crisis we face is the reshaping of the global order by the AI industry. Technological advancements are accelerating, making economic inequality more glaring than ever, with no end in sight. The potential of AI is difficult to assess, but it is clear that it will redefine our understanding of labor and work itself. This will force humanity to reconsider not only the nature of work but also economic systems as a whole. The greatest threat comes from the question: Can a company, whether American or Chinese, grow so wealthy that it could dictate economic and political decisions at will? Can wealth generated by AI be distributed equitably, empowering citizens worldwide, fostering equality, and reinforcing democracy everywhere? My son captured the irony of computer evolution in a joke: ”We’ve fooled rocks into thinking for us.” What if those rocks turn against us? Is this the new Stone Age?

This second crisis also touches on the erosion of democratic influence, a trend that could have catastrophic consequences for the future of civilisation. Let us not forget the looming threat of nuclear war, which still remains all too possible. The first two months of 2025 have made these challenges very clear.

Like many others, I consider myself an ordinary citizen—one who does their best each day, striving to care for their family. I am an artist, a researcher in human evolution and the prehistory of art, and a Zen buddhist priest. All three of these professions come with an implicit promise of poverty. However, I’ve learned that economic scarcity can be a gift and a privilege, especially for those wishing to understand what financial uncertainty feels like.

This series of writings began during fragmented writing sessions throughout 2021, a time when it seemed, for a brief moment, that the COVID-19 pandemic might be subsiding. After completing my doctorate in 2017, many areas of my life began following an unpredictable path. Despite spending most of my life with modest income and relying on social safety nets, I was poorer than ever while holding a doctorate. This reality prompted me to reflect deeply on economic inequality—one of the core themes of this series.

Seven generations

We live in the midst of mass extinctions and climate change. As a Zen priest, I often ask myself what it means to live in a world where, according to the UN’s environmental program, around 150–200 plant, insect, bird, and mammal species go extinct every day. How could we save these species?

My awakening to this reality came in early 2019, when I participated in an Extinction Rebellion event in Finland. I was placed in a small discussion group with a young woman and an older man. The woman’s reaction to the climate crisis was one of the main reasons I began writing about this. She was horrified at what the world could look like in just a few decades. She feared for her generation’s future and the generations to come. The Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) Nation’s philosophy suggests that the decisions we make today should lead to a sustainable world for seven generations ahead. This principle is often applied to environmental decisions—ensuring they are sustainable for the next 150–200 years. Can we actually think on such a scale?

Our species evolved in small hunter-gatherer groups of a few dozen, and later adapted to village communities of around 150 people. Anthropologist Robin Dunbar’s research suggests that the human mind can only maintain meaningful relationships within this group size—a concept known as Dunbar’s number. How, then, can we make decisions that consider the well-being of 7.9 billion people? Can we even comprehend such a task? Must we simply accept that we are falling behind in the face of biodiversity loss, while AI and robots serve the needs of the wealthy?

I believe that we could create conditions where wealth is shared equally, where people can find meaning in doing what they love, while still providing for their families. But for this to happen, we must free ourselves from beliefs that bind our minds, beliefs that prevent such possibilities. We must learn to open our hearts to all forms of life and respect each other as we are. We would truly benefit from being able to see ourselves as others and others as ourselves.

Ethical Roots of Engaged Buddhism

The German philosopher Karl Jaspers (1888–1969) developed the influential concept of the ”Axial Age,” which spans roughly from 800 BCE to 200 BCE, marking the transition from the ancient world to a more familiar era. During this period, significant shifts in thought occurred simultaneously across China, India, and Greece. Thinkers such as Siddhartha Gautama (Buddha), Confucius, and Pythagoras shaped philosophical and religious traditions that still impact the world today. It was also an era when the concept of money emerged, fundamentally changing the relationship between freedom and power.

As a Buddhist priest, I may be somewhat biased, but I believe the teachings of Buddha are particularly relevant when examining the nature and origins of human dissatisfaction. Buddha’s radical ideas—especially the notion that caste systems and idol worship are baseless—resonate deeply in our modern world. His core insight, which we call dukkha (often translated as suffering), points to the inherent dissatisfaction and suffering in life, and how to become aware of it and see what lies beyond it.

David Loy, an American philosopher and Zen teacher, has written extensively about the significance of Buddhist thought in the context of the ecological crisis. According to Loy, the crisis we face is not just ecological but also spiritual, requiring a profound understanding of our place in the world. Is the ecological crisis the world’s way of telling us to wake up or face the consequences?

Loy references Dom Helder Camara’s comment: ”Dom Helder Camara’s comment: ”When I feed the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist.” This tension between helping and questioning is something that also arises in Buddhist activism. Loy asks whether Buddhists, when engaging in activism, are accused of being too radical, despite the deep ethical roots in the tradition.

The concept of stress is also relevant here. Stress can be a form of dukkha—a psychological and physiological reaction to life’s challenges. But stress isn’t inherently harmful, as Kelly McGonigal, a Stanford psychologist, suggests. It’s not the stress itself that harms us, but how we relate to it. Social support, connection, and understanding stress as a natural response can mitigate its negative effects.

In Zen Buddhism, we approach dissatisfaction and suffering with openness and awareness. Zen, particularly in its modern form, encourages living fully in the present, embracing life as it is. Zen practice aims to break through illusions and social constructs, helping us see the world as it truly is. It is less intellectual and more experiential, emphasising personal realisation in everyday life.

Zen’s journey from India to China and then Japan, and later to the West, has led to many different interpretations and adaptations. My understanding of Zen has been deeply influenced by the teachings of Roshi Frank De Waele, a Belgian Zen teacher, and Roshi Bernie Glassman, who taught “Brooklyn Zen.”

This series is based on themes that are divided five segments, each exploring the history, manifestations, consequences, and possible solutions to human dissatisfaction. It is not a step-by-step guide to solving these issues, but a collection of ideas and themes that I believe are crucial in this historical moment.

The first segment examines historical movements that have shaped our understanding of dissatisfaction and suffering. The second one offers philosophical reflections on the nature of dissatisfaction. The third and fourth segments address the consequences of dissatisfaction, such as climate change, the potential dangers of AI, and economic inequality. The final fifth segment of the series presents cases where dissatisfaction has been addressed and resolved. This section also discusses mystical experiences and practices that could help solve our dissatisfaction.

Zen and the Art of Dissatisfaction – introduction and Part 1.

/ Mikko Ijäs / Jätä kommentti

Why We Want More and How It’s Destroying Us

Climate, AI, Extinction, Money, Inequality & the Search for Freedom

My name is Mikko Rakushin Kendō Ijäs. I am an artist, researcher, and Zen Buddhist priest. My work spans from studying human evolution to exploring the depths of creativity, spirituality, and the structures that shape our world. Over the years, my journey has taken me through art, academia, and Zen practice—from research at Harvard to Bearing Witness retreats in Auschwitz and Street Retreats in Helsinki.

This series of writings is based on an unpublished book I have been working on—a book that examines the complex systems that govern our lives, from economics and technology to human psychology and spirituality. The themes I explore here are the same ones that have shaped my research, my practice, and my understanding of the world.

We live in an era of deep contradictions: endless innovation yet growing dissatisfaction, economic growth yet persistent inequality, technological progress yet environmental collapse. Through this series, I aim to reflect on these paradoxes, offering views that are grounded in both research and lived experience.

I invite you to read, reflect, and engage. Not from a place of certainty, but from a place of open awareness—what in Zen we call Not-Knowing. Let’s bear witness to the world as it is, so we can act with wisdom, compassion, and love.

Originally published in 15 February 2025 on Substack https://substack.com/@mikkoijas/p-157207211

Zen and the Art of Dissatisfaction 

Part 1. We Are All Prisoners

We are cooperative and innovative creatures. Humanity has been successful in many ways, yet dissatisfaction gnaws at us. This dissatisfaction makes us prisoners waiting for a better tomorrow, for a moment when everything will be perfect. But such a day will never come.

Dissatisfaction has driven us forward, yet at the same time, it is an illusion. We believe we are moving toward an inevitable peak of progress, but in reality, we are merely following paths we have built ourselves—sometimes misguided ones, sometimes wiser routes. We have created and abandoned cultures, innovations, and ways of life time and again.

But where does our creativity stem from? What truly drives us? Is it benevolent progress or endless greed and delusions? Dissatisfaction takes hold of our minds even when everything appears fine on the surface. We want more money, more fame, better working conditions, more benefits. Wages and the economy must continuously grow. But why? What is this force leading us, and in what direction?

Our economy relies on outdated metrics. The gross domestic product (GDP), developed during the Great Depression of the 1930s, has guided the world for nearly a century. However, it fails to account for everything: Wikipedia, which we develop and read for free, music and paintings we often enjoy without charge. Volunteer work and activism that drives all of our rights, nature and the well-being it provides. All of this exists, yet it remains invisible in economic measurements. And still, we expect economic growth. 

Our dissatisfaction is visible everywhere. We wage war against evil, bomb cities, and then wonder why refugees want to live among us. We buy chicken after seeing a recipe on TV, unwittingly participating in the meat industry’s cycle that breeds new diseases. We complain when pandemics confine us to our homes.

This series of writings will examine these complex systems that intertwine: climate and ecology, technological development, and economic injustice. We cannot change the world alone, but we can understand it better. Politicians do not experience the daily lives of ordinary people, nor can we expect them to understand its hardships. Their world is different from that of a cleaner who has to apply for support to afford dental care or an artist who must lie about their profession to receive unemployment benefits. Many of the examples in this series are from Finland and applicable only in Finnish context.

But how do we form our opinions? We think we learn by reading, but true understanding comes through experience. We react emotionally to politics, news, and social media. We get angry, but we do not always pause to ask: Why does someone think this way? Why is someone forced to beg on the streets? Why does the world’s richest man want to go to Mars while mocking politicians?

American Zen teacher Bernie Glassman encouraged approaching the world through Not-Knowing. To remain open, to listen, to Bear Witness, and to act based on what we internalise–through love. This may help us break free from the chains of our own minds.

We consider many things immutable: nations, the economy, human rights, the necessity of war. But nothing is permanent. Everything flows and changes. British physicist Helen Czerski notes that nothing alive can achieve true balance—stagnation would mean death. Even world peace is subject to constant change.

Dutch historian Rutger Bregman reminds us that the poor are not lazy; they simply lack money. Poverty is not a moral failing but a societal structure. And while Steven Pinker argues that the world is better today than ever before, we cannot turn a blind eye to new crises.

Humanity now faces several existential threats. The greatest is the environmental crisis: climate change, pollution, and mass extinction of species. The second is the imbalance between technological advancement and economic power. New political crises have also merged through authoritarian regimes. All of these are also intertwined, or interconnected. We must understand these structures and their effects if we want to build peace, and a more sustainable future.

Dissatisfaction will not disappear, but maybe we could learn to see it with new eyes. We can stop waiting for a better tomorrow and face the world as it is—and act in its favour—through love.