A Short Essay and a Haiku

We stand at the edge of multiple crises.

Ecological disaster looms as we deplete the world’s resources and poison the land we live on. Global temperatures rise, and adverse weather conditions grow more extreme. At some point soon, we may pass a threshold from which we can no longer prevent the collapse of our environment.

At the same time, technology accelerates at an unprecedented pace. Paired with globalization and the relentless machinery of late-stage capitalism, millions are losing their livelihoods to AI and automation. Disconnected from work, from meaning, and from one another, many find themselves alienated in a world no longer built for them.

More deeply, we are experiencing a crisis of meaning itself; many of us feel the world and our place in it no longer feel solid. The structures that once held us — religion, philosophy, community — have fractured. Philosophy questioned religion, then turned its skeptical gaze upon itself, leaving us with fractured ideologies and competing narratives, none offering a clear sense of collective purpose.

And yet — despite this despair — all is not lost.

We have the tools, the knowledge, and the capacity to address these crises. They are solvable problems. But the true barriers lie within humanity itself. What stands in our way is distrust, division, and bad actors who exploit simple binaries: left or right, rich or poor, good or bad, us or them.

The way the world works today (neoliberalism if I use technical jargon) have deepened this fracture — not because of its market mechanisms or its emphasis on individualism, but because of its narrow, myopic focus on the immediate and the near. It neglects the broader, long-term consequences, and forgets that liberalism was born not merely of rights for individuals, but of a social contract designed to deliver two things:

1. Basic rights for all human beings

2. A shared good, shaped by what matters to all of us

Pluralism, when severed from purpose, collapses into noise. Philosophy without ethics becomes hollow. Religion without context becomes oppressive. This is what we must overcome.

I believe in pluralism, but with one essential caveat: that compassion must be the guiding thread. It must be the foundation for everything we build, believe, and do. Compassion is not exclusive to any one religion or philosophy. It is spoken in many words — love, करुणा, רַחֲמִים, رحمة, 仁 — but it all stems from the same source: the deep, abiding care for others and the world around us.

Whether you are Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, atheist — compassion is part of our shared language. It is what connects us, what turns 'other' into 'us.' The Buddha reminds us to extend our care to "whatever living beings there may be — feeble or strong, long, stout, or of medium size, short, small, large, those seen or those unseen, those dwelling far or near" — a universal embrace that excludes none. This compassion binds individual and collective, human and universe, making both beautiful, meaningful, and ultimately, divine.

Before we rebuild our communities, before we design new technologies or advocate for new policies, we must come to a shared understanding: that compassion underlies all of this. As Mohammed taught, among "the most excellent actions" are "to gladden the heart of a human being, to feed the hungry, to help the afflicted, to lighten the sorrow of the sorrowful." These are not mere sentiments but practical expressions of our interconnectedness. Compassion is not a luxury, or a sentimental nicety — it is the only thing that makes these other efforts sustainable, just, and human.

So — live, work, believe, and create in the way that feels right to you. Believe in whatever God you wish, or in none at all. But remember the wisdom from the Vedas that "the wise man behaves with all beings as if they were himself," and Jesus's simple yet profound guidance to "do unto others what you would have them do unto you." These teachings, spanning millennia and continents, converge on the same truth.

In our modern world of ecological crisis and technological acceleration, Isaiah's ancient call still resonates—to "loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free" and to "share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house." This is not just religious doctrine but practical compassion that addresses our most pressing issues.

Be compassionate.

To the universe.

To the world.

To society.

And to yourself.

The answer lies within. 

Treat yourself with compassion, and the tools you use will reflect that compassion.

Even in our fractured world, there are real examples of this principle at work:

- Wikipedia, a decentralized platform where people from every background freely share knowledge

- Kiva.org, a global micro-lending platform built on trust and mutual support

These aren’t anomalies — they’re glimpses of what’s possible when technology, community, and compassion are joined.

AI and automation, though displacing many, can also lead us to a world beyond scarcity.

Politics, though it divides us, holds within it the potential for collective will.

And while we may not always love or trust one another, at the very least, we can respect the humanity in each other.

I leave you with the classic greeting in Hindi: 

Namaste 

—The divine within me honors the divine within you.

In turbulent times

Compassion calms angry waves

Tender hands reach out

* For a deeper dive into the philosophy behind compassion, feel free to reach out.