Conceit

 Sunday 1 June 2019

 To say the country is divided at the moment would be something of an understatement! As the whole Brexit saga rolls on endlessly, I’m sure I can speak for many when I say I’ve started groaning inwardly whenever politicians line up to trot out the same lines, especially from the opposite side of the divide from where I find myself. But I’ve also noticed a disturbing impulse in myself, which I’ve never had before, to shout at the people I disagree with when they come on the radio or TV. And I’ve come to see the underlying not-so-subtle view that holding the views I do on the subject makes me somehow superior to the people who disagree with me, as if I occupy the moral and intellectual high ground. It’s so easy, not just to say that I’m right and they’re wrong, but also to dismiss them wholesale as fools or bigots or whatever you will. As well as being an expression of ill-will, it also points to the operation in my mind and heart of conceit.

Buddhism has a great deal to say about conceit. In fact, it’s one of what are known as the five poisons, the others being greed, hatred, spiritual ignorance and distractedness. And poisonous is a good word to describe its effect. But it isn’t just about thinking you’re better than other people. It also comes into play when you think others are better than you, when you do yourself down. In the Buddhist community, I often hear people say they can’t meditate. They’re sure it’s a valuable thing to be able to do, and they recognise that others can do it, it’s just that they can’t. My teacher Sangharakshita, when faced with someone talking like that, is reported to have asked “What’s so special about you then?”, turning the whole thing on its head.

We make snap judgements based on conceit all the time. We see people who are cleverer than us, richer and more successful as well as those who we secretly look down on because of the way they look or speak or the views they hold. Whichever way we go, however, the issue is one of comparison based on difference. And seeing difference serves only to separate and isolate us, which is a bad thing. As the old quotation has it, “comparisons are odious”.

Buddhism offers an antidote to this in a meditation called the metta bhavana, in which we set out to cultivate good will to all beings, starting with ourselves and going on to consider a good friend, someone we don’t know well, someone we struggle with and, finally, all beings. This practice can help us truly see people, to recognise that everyone wants the same thing: to be happy and free of suffering - even though we express those wishes in different ways. We stop comparing and start empathising. To recall this whenever the urge to compare arises can help free us of ill-will. I need to work harder at this in these times of division and I’d encourage you to do the same. Whenever you find your blood boiling at what someone else says or start doing yourself down, stop, take a breath and wish yourself or the other person well instead. I know from experience that it’s a transformative practice – why not try it out for yourself?