Radical Kindness As a Form of Protest

 On the morning, June 13, 2025, my wife and I were walking through downtown of our city. I spotted a small mouse on the sidewalk. It was shaking and seemed confused. We at once recognized the fragile beauty had fallen victim of the standard practice of poisoning rodents, a practice I vehemently oppose based on its inherent cruelty. A mouse wants happiness and tries to avoid pain and death every bit as much as you do or I do.

Initially I thought having the mouse in peace would be a kind choice but seeing that there was a great deal of foot traffic, and it looked like rain. My wife and I decided to let put the mouse in the wooded area away from the sidewalk. I took her into my hands and lifted her up to the wooded green space away from the concrete. The wobbly little mouse wandered off into the leaves and disappeared to die in familiar surroundings and in peace, well, as peacefully as possible when one is dying of internal hemorrhage.  

Once the experience of sadness dissipated, I saw the incident as a protest against the cruelty of mankind, especially in light of the expressions of tyranny and actions of overt cruelty we see paying out under the Trump Administration and his MAGgot Movement. This begged the question: does radical kindness matter?

The Quiet Rebellion of Compassion

When the world screams with rage, it can seem that only louder, more aggressive voices can compete. Yet in such times, quiet, deliberate acts of kindness may be the most revolutionary thing one can do. In the face of systems built upon violence, extraction, and indifference, to extend tenderness to a fragile, dying animal is not sentimentality—it is resistance.

To lift a poisoned mouse out of danger and into a place of dignity may seem small. But when cruelty is normalized, mercy is protest. When death is treated as disposable, to honor the last breaths of a trembling being is to reclaim our humanity.

Shinjin and the Politics of the Heart

From the Pure Land perspective, particularly within the esoteric and Shin Buddhist streams, this kind of action is not merely ethical—it is the natural expression of Shinjin, the heart-mind that has awakened to Amida’s Vow. When one has truly entrusted themselves to the limitless compassion that pervades all existence, one can no longer turn away from suffering, no matter how small or apparently insignificant.

“Shinjin does not close our eyes to suffering; it opens them wider.”

Through Shinjin, we come to understand that compassion is not a strategy. It is not a means to an end. It is the very nature of awakened reality. Thus, when cruelty becomes policy, when indifference becomes a platform, kindness becomes a sacred disruption.

Radical Kindness Is Not Weakness

There’s a misconception in protest culture that to be kind is to be soft, or that compassion concedes ground to the oppressor. But radical kindness is not submission—it is a refusal. A refusal to let one’s heart be colonized by fear, anger, or dehumanization.

In an environment like that being cultivated by authoritarian movements—where cruelty is power, and violence is virtue — to remain tender is to reject the spell. It is to remember that the dharma flows deeper than any policy, any regime, or any temporary rise of fascist theater.

In a world dominated by cruelty, exploitation, and systemic injustice, kindness becomes a revolutionary act. Tyranny thrives on fear, division, and dehumanization—conditions that strip individuals of agency and compassion. But to respond with kindness is not weakness; it is moral resistance. Each act of compassion refuses to mirror the violence of the oppressor. It reaffirms the dignity of self and other. When systems demand conformity, obedience, and indifference, kindness says: I will not become what you need me to be to maintain your power. Offering care, listening deeply, and standing in solidarity are not sentimental gestures—they are disruptions to a culture of dominance. In oppressive systems, love is radical. Kindness humanizes where dehumanization is the norm, heals where institutions harm, and reconnects where society divides. In this way, kindness is not passive—it is the active dismantling of the inner and outer machinery of oppression, one choice at a time.

A Bodhisattva Protest

To live in Shinjin is to be a protestor already. We live in the Buddha’s vow. We belong to boundless light. So, we do not let the poison of this world infect our mind stream. Instead, we walk through this samsāric realm of cruelty carrying a lamp of awareness and a bowl of compassion, even if all we can do in a day is help a mouse die in peace.

From the perspective of ultimate truth, there is no "big" or "small" being. Each is an expression of dependent origination, each contains Buddha-nature. So yes, it matters deeply what we do when no one is watching. Especially then.

The Power of Undefended Love

We live in a time when many hearts have become calloused—not by malice alone, but by exhaustion, despair, and the numbing flood of suffering. But this is when radical kindness must rise. Not out of naivety, but as a deliberate spiritual discipline. It is the kind of kindness that sees clearly and loves anyway.

“Even the trembling mouse is not outside the embrace of Amida’s Vow. Even the tyrant, blind in hatred, is not beyond the light of boundless compassion.”

To act from this place is not to ignore injustice. It is to subvert it from the deepest level of being. Because no system of oppression, no flag or regime or mob, can withstand the unshakable heart of one who has realized Shinjin.

So yes, radical kindness matters. It always has. It always will.

Namo Amida Buddha

Sensei Shaku Mui Shike,

Hongaku Mikkyō Jōdo no keifu o tsugu shike
(Master who inherits the lineage of Hongaku Mikkyō Jōdo)