Fierce Vulnerability – Book Review

What would it happen if our meditation cushions were taken out of the meditation hall and placed in the middle of a sit-in demonstration? What would happen if the blare of megaphones were replaced by Tibetan chimes? What if we listened instead of shouting?

Kazu Haga has asked himself these sorts of questions (and dozens more) of those who wish to change the world for the better. In his book, Fierce Vulnerability,¹ he offers these sorts of questions for the reader to ponder.

Kazu Haga is a trainer in nonviolence and restorative justice, and practices what he preaches. His work in these areas, along with his spiritual path, means that he is able to ask one of the most important questions that those seeking a better, healthier, and more socially just world need to be asking.

Simply put, that question is this: What would a movement that combines individual salvation with social direct action look like? Very few seem to be asking this sort of question, and Kazu Haga is one of only a handful who have attempted to pose it and offer some possible answers.

Yes, Haga does suggest some answers, but they may not be what the reader expects. Haga’s answers are closer to suggesting what to let go, rather than proposing new forms of organising.

Haga’s observations and proposals arise out of understandings and knowledge that was not generally known, let alone available, to previous generations of activists. Nor were these known to those seeking personal salvation. Furthermore, traditional styles of social activism are no longer sufficient in today’s world, because the crises facing us today are ones we have never had to face in our human journey before. Crises are no longer discreet; they are intimately entwined and entangled. So interconnected are the multitude of issues that solving one on its own may worsen another.

All this, says Haga, requires a much broader understanding of the personal, political, and planetary. We must, asserts Haga, let go of our sense of individuality and oppositional dualities.

Holding on to an us/them worldview is at odds with this entanglement and is at the heart of all that is destroying the planet, whether that be the “us” of one nation vs another nation, one person vs another, or humans vs non-humans.

Separation and isolation are at the core of trauma, a crucial element in Haga’s thesis. When most of us think of trauma we often think of acute trauma – i.e. an incident in one’s life that causes deep distress, but that is usually limited in time. We might, beyond this form of trauma, recognise chronic trauma – trauma that remains with the traumatised person indefinitely. However, Haga identifies at least six other manifestations of trauma: insidious, complex, indirect, vicarious, inter-generational, and collective.

In today’s world all of us can be exposed to any of these forms of trauma, whether we recognise it or not. This is why Haga tells us that those searching for personal salvation or enlightenment or those seeking social justice must recognise that what is needed is healing. Not opposition, and not self-absorption – but healing.

In turn, healing requires an ability to grieve. Many of us are traumatised because of loss of connection and belonging, whether we know it intellectually or not. Our bodies, however, do know, and that trauma gets displayed in mental and emotional ways, as well as collectively in warfare, xenophobia, misogyny, destruction of forests, or the extinction of species.

Haga introduces a useful model of how we show up in the world. Developed by a pioneer of adventure education, Karl Rohnke, the model outlines three zones; comfort, stretch, and panic zones. Most of our time is spent in our comfort zone, and this is where we breathe easily, are unstressed, can solve problems, and are deeply connected with others. Our stretch zone is where we get challenged and can grow. We get stretched, yet remain open to new information and perspectives. Every so often, however, we get pushed or pulled into a panic zone. In this zone, our evolutionary survival instincts kick in. We go into fight, flight, or freeze mode. In this zone, Haga (and Rohnke) tell us, we are unable to take in new information, and we are unwilling to listen to differing perspectives.

Traditional forms of activism often push or pull both activists and those opposed into this zone. In previous times these forms of activism have brought benefits and gains. However, today we are ‘trying to call forth a level of transformation we have never experienced,’ claims Haga. We need new forms of activism and new models, and the comfort-stretch-panic model is one of those. It is foundational to Kazu Haga’s notion of fierce vulnerability. It also helps to explain why traditional oppositional activist organising is insufficient for today’s world.

Haga does not fall into the trap of claiming that change happens through personal transformation on the one hand, or systemic change on the other. Both are necessary. In a chapter entitled Healing Is Not Enough he clearly articulates his thoughts.

‘The pain of collective violence isn’t felt in fancy retreat centers and workshop spaces. Those are places where we can build up our capacity to go into the places of hurt, but they’re not ultimately where the pain is felt.’

Yet, as he makes clear through the rest of the book, if we do not ‘build up our capacity’ then it is likely that we will be adding to the pain of the world rather than reducing it.

Throughout the book, Haga offers simple exercises that one can do (either alone or collectively) to train in the ideas he presents.

Fierce Vulnerability is a vital book that those seeking a better world should read. It may not provide you with all of the answers, but it will get you thinking about the crucial questions to be asking.

Notes:

1. Haga, Kazu, Fierce Vulnerability, Parallax Press, Berkeley, California, 2025