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© Victor
& Victoria Trimondi
The
Shadow of the Dalai Lama – Part II – 14. China’s metaphysical rivalry with
Tibet
14. CHINA’S
METAPHYSICAL
RIVALRY WITH TIBET
The Central Asian power which for centuries engaged
the Tibetan Buddhocracy in the deepest rivalry
was the Chinese Empire. Even if the focus of current discussions about
historical relations between the two countries is centered on questions of
territory, we must upon closer inspection regard this as the projected
object of the actual dispute. Indeed, hidden behind the state-political
facade lies a much more significant, metaphysically motivated power
struggle. The magic/exotic world of Lamaism and the outflow of the major
and vital rivers from the mountainous countries to the west led to the
growth of an idea in the “Middle Kingdom” that events in Tibet had a
decisive influence on the fate of their own country. The fates of the “Land of Snows” and China were
seen by both sides as being closely interlinked. At the beginning of the
twentieth century, leading Tibetans told the Englishman, Charles Bell, that
Tibet
was the “root of China”
(Bell, 1994, p.114). As absurd as it may sound, the Chinese power elite
never completely shook off this belief and they thus treated their Tibetan
politics especially seriously.
In addition the rulers of the two nations, the
“Son of Heaven” (the Chinese Emperor) and the “Ocean Priest” (the Dalai
Lama), were claimants to the world throne and made the pretentious claim to
represent the center of the cosmos, from where they wanted to govern the
universe. As we have demonstrated in the vision guiding and fate of the
Empress Wu Zetian, the Buddhist idea of a Chakravartin
influenced the Chinese Empire from a very early stage (700 C.E.). During
the Tang dynasty the rulers of China were worshipped as
incarnations of the Bodhisattva Manjushri and as “wheel-turning kings” (Chakravartin).
Besides, it was completely irrelevant whether the
current Chinese Emperor was of a more Taoist, Confucian, or Buddhist
inclination, as the idea of a cosmocrat was
common to all three systems. Even the Tibetans apportioned him this role at
times, such as the Thirteenth Dalai Lama for example, who referred to the
Manchu rulers as Chakravartins
(Klieger, 1991, p. 32).
We should also not forget that several of the
Chinese potentates allowed themselves to be initiated into the tantras and naturally laid claim to the visions of
power articulated there. In 1279 Chögyel Phagpa, the grand abbot of the Sakyapa,
initiated the Mongolian conqueror of China and founder of the Yuan
dynasty, Kublai Khan, into the Hevajra Tantra. In 1746 the Qian
Long ruler received a Lamaist tantric initiation
as Chakravartin.
Further it was an established tradition to recognize the Emperor of China
as an emanation of the Bodhisattva Manjushri. This demonstrates that two Bodhisattvas could
also fall into earnest political discord.
Tibetan culture owes just as much to Chinese as it does to that of India. A
likeness of the great military leader and king, Songtsen
Gampo (617–650), who forged the highlands into a
single state of a previously unseen size is worshipped throughout all of Tibet . It shows him in full armor and flanked by his two
chief wives. According to legend, the Chinese woman, Wen
Cheng, and the Nepalese, Bhrikuti, were
embodiments of the white and the green Tara.
Both are supposed to have brought Buddhism to the “Land of Snows”.
[1]
History confirms that the imperial princess, Wen Cheng, was accompanied by cultural goods from China that
revolutionized the whole of Tibetan community life. The cultivation of
cereals and fruits, irrigation, metallurgy, calendrics,
a school system, weights and measures, manners and clothing — with great
open-mindedness the king allowed these and similar blandishments of
civilization to be imported from the “Middle Kingdom”. Young men from the
Tibetan nobility were sent to study in China and India. Songtsen Gampo also made
cultural loans from the other neighboring states of the highlands.
These Chinese acts of peace and cultural
creativity were, however, preceded on the Tibetan side by a most aggressive
and imperialist policy of conquest. The king was said to have commanded an
army of 200,000 men. The art of war practiced by this incarnation of the
“compassionate” Bodhisattva, Avalokiteshvara, was
considered extremely barbaric and the “red faces”, as the Tibetans were
called, spread fear and horror through all of Central
Asia. The size to which Songtsen Gampo was able to expand his empire corresponds roughly
to that of the territory currently claimed by the Tibetans in exile as
their area of control.
Since that time the intensive exchange between the
two countries has never dried up. Nearly all the regents of the Manchu
dynasty (1644–1912) right up to the Empress Dowager Ci
Xi felt bound to Lamaism on the basis of their Mongolian origins, although
they publicly espoused ideas that were mostly Confucian. Their belief led
them to have magnificent Lamaist temples built in
Beijing.
There have been a total of 28 significant Lama shrines built in the
imperial city since the 18th century. Beyond the Great Wall, in the
Manchurian — Mongolian border region, the imperial families erected their
summer palace. They had an imposing Buddhist monastery built in the
immediate vicinity and called it the “Potala”
just like the seat of the Dalai Lama. In her biography, the imperial
princess, The Ling, reports that tantric rituals were still being held in
the Forbidden City at the start of the
twentieth century (quoted by Klieger, 1991, p.
55). [2]
If a Dalai Lama journeyed to China then
this was always conducted with great pomp. There was constant and
debilitating squabbling about etiquette, the symbolic yardstick for the
rank of the rulers meeting one another. Who first greeted whom, who was to
sit where, with what title was one addressed — such questions were far more
important than discussions about borders. They reflect the most subtle
shadings of the relative positions within a complete cosmological scheme. As
the “Great Fifth” entered Beijing
in 1652, he was indeed received like a regnant prince, since the ruling
Manchu Emperor, Shun Chi, was much drawn to the Buddhist doctrine. In farewelling the hierarch he showered him with valuable
gifts and honored him as the “self-creating Buddha and head of the valuable
doctrine and community, Vajradhara Dalai Lama” (Schulemann,
1958, p. 247), but in secret he played him off against the Panchen Lama.
The cosmological chess game went on for centuries
without clarity ever being achieved, and hence for both countries the
majority of state political questions remained unanswered. For example, Lhasa was obliged to
send gifts to Beijing
every year. This was naturally regarded by the Chinese as a kind of tribute
which demonstrated the dependence of the Land of Snows.
But since these gifts were reciprocated with counter-presents, the Tibetans
saw the relationship as one between equal partners. The Chinese countered
with the establishment of a kind of Chinese governorship in Tibet under
two officials known as Ambane. Form a Chinese point of view they represented
the worldly administration of the country. So that they could be played off
against one another and avoid corruption, the Ambane were always dispatched
to Tibet
in pairs.
The Chinese also tried to gain influence over the Lamaist politics of incarnation. Among the Tibetan and
Mongolian aristocracy it was increasingly the case that children from their
own ranks were recognized as high incarnations. The intention behind this
was to make important clerical posts de
facto hereditary for the Tibetan noble clans. In order to hamper such
familial expansions of power, the Chinese Emperor imposed an oracular
procedure. In the case of the Dalai Lama three boys were to always be sought
as potential successors and then the final decision would be made under
Chinese supervision by the drawing of lots. The names and birth dates of
the children were to be written on slips of paper, wrapped in dough and
laid in a golden urn which the Emperor Kien Lung
himself donated and had sent to Lhasa
in 1793.
Mao Zedong: The Red Sun
But did the power play between the two countries
over the world throne end with the establishment of Chinese Communism in Tibet? Is
the Tibetan-Chinese conflict of the last 50 years solely a confrontation
between spiritualism and materialism, or were there “forces and powers” at
work behind Chinese politics which wanted to establish Beijing as the center of the world at Lhasa’ expense?
“Questions of legitimation have plagued all
Chinese dynasties”, writes the Tibetologist
Elliot Sperling with regard to current Chinese
territorial claims over Tibet, „Questions of legitimation
have plagued all Chinese dynasties”, writes the Tibetologist
Elliot Sperling with regard to current Chinese
territorial claims over Tibet, „Traditionally such questions revolved
around the basic issue of whether a given dynasty or ruler possessed 'The
Mandate of Heaven’. Among the signs that accompanied possession of The
Mandate was the
ability to unify the country and overcome all rival claimants for the
territory and the throne of China.
It would be a mistake not to view the present regime within this tradition”
(Tibetan Review, August 1983, p.
18). But to put Sperling’s interesting thesis to the test, we need to
first of all consider a man who shaped the politics of the Communist Party
of China like no other and was worshipped by his followers like a god: Mao Zedong.
According to Tibetan reports, the occupation of Tibet by
the Chinese was presaged from the beginning of the fifties by numerous
“supernatural” signs: whilst meditating in the Ganden
monastery the Fourteenth Dalai Lama saw the statue of the terror deity Yamantaka
move its head and look to the east with a fierce expression. Various
natural disasters, including a powerful earthquake and droughts befell the
land. Humans and animals gave birth to monsters. A comet appeared in the
skies. Stones became loose in various temples and fell to the ground. On September 9, 1951 the
Chinese People’s Liberation Army marched into Lhasa.
The Panchen Lama, Mao Zedong, the Dalai Lama
Before he had to flee, the young Dalai Lama had a
number of meetings with the “Great Chairman” and was very impressed by him.
As he shook Mao Zedong by the hand for the first time, the Kundun in his
own words felt he was
“in the presence of a strong magnetic force” (Craig, 1997, p.
178). Mao too felt the need to make a metaphysical assessment of the
god-king: “The Dalai Lama is a god, not a man”, he said and then qualified
this by adding, “In any case he is seen that way by the majority of the
Tibetan population” (Tibetan Review,
January 1995, p. 10). Mao chatted with the god-king about religion and
politics a number of times and is supposed to have expressed varying and
contradictory opinions during these conversations. On one occasion,
religion was for him “opium for the people” in the classic Marxist sense,
on another he saw in the historical Buddha a precursor of the idea of
communism and declared the goddess Tara
to be a “good woman”.
The twenty-year-old hierarch from Tibet
looked up to the fatherly revolutionary from China with admiration and even
nurtured the wish to become a member of the Communist Party. He fell, as
Mary Craig puts it, under the spell of the red Emperor (Craig, 1997, p.
178). “I have heard chairman Mao talk on different matters”, the Kundun
enthused in 1955, “and I received instructions from him. I have come to the
firm conclusion that the brilliant prospects for the Chinese people as a
whole are also the prospects for us Tibetan people; the path of our entire
country is our path and no other” (Grunfeld,
1996, p. 142)
Mao Zedong, who at that time was pursuing a
gradualist politics, saw in the young Kundun a powerful instrument
through which to familiarize the feudal and religious elites of the Land of Snows with his multi-ethnic
communist state. In a 17-point program he had conceded the “ national regional autonomy [of Tibet]
under the leadership of the Central People's Government”, and assured that
the “existing political system”, especially the “status, functions and
powers of the Dalai Lama”, would remain untouched (Goldstein, 1997, p. 47).
The Great Proletarian
Cultural Revolution
After the flight of the Dalai Lama, the 17-point
program was worthless and the gradualist politics of Beijing at an end. But it was first under
the “Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution” (in the mid-sixties) that China’s
attitude towards Tibet
shifted fundamentally. Within a tantric conception of history the Chinese
Cultural Revolution has to be understood as a period of chaos and anarchy.
Mao Zedong himself had– like a skilled Vajra master — deliberately
evoked a general disorder so as to establish a paradise on earth after the
destruction of the old values: “A great chaos will lead to a new order”, he
wrote at the beginning of the youth revolt (Zhisui,
1994, p. 491). All over the country, students, school pupils, and young
workers took to the land to spread the ideas of Mao Zedong. The “Red Guard”
of Lhasa also understood itself to be the agent of its “Great Chairman”, as
it published the following statement in December 1966: “We a group of
lawless revolutionary rebels will wield the iron sweepers and swing the
mighty cudgels to sweep the old world into a mess and bash people into
complete confusion. We fear no gales and storms, nor flying sands and
moving rocks ... To rebel, to rebel, and to rebel through to the end in
order to create a brightly red new world of this proletariat” (Grunfeld, 1996, p. 183).
Although it was the smashing of the Lamaist religion which lay at the heart of the red
attacks in Tibet,
one must not forget that it was not just monks but also long-serving
Chinese Party
cadres in Lhasa
and the Tibetan provinces who fell victim to the brutal subversion. Even if
it was triggered by Mao Zedong, the Cultural Revolution was essentially a
youth revolt and gave expression to a deep intergenerational conflict.
National interests did not play a significant role in these events. Hence,
many young Tibetans likewise participated in the rebellious demonstrations
in Lhasa,
something which for reasons that are easy to understand is hushed up these
days by Dharamsala.
Whether Mao Zedong approved of the radicality with which the Red Guard set to work remains
doubtful. To this day — as we have already reported — the Kundun
believes that the Party Chairman was not fully informed about the
vandalistic attacks in Tibet
and that Jiang Qing, his spouse, was the evildoer. [3]
Mao’s attitude can probably be best described by saying that in as far as
the chaos served to consolidate his position he would have approved of it,
and in as far as it weakened his position he would not. For Mao it was
solely a matter of the accumulation of personal power, whereby it must be
kept in mind, however, that he saw himself as being totally within the
tradition of the Chinese Emperor as an energetic concentration of the
country and its inhabitants. What strengthened him also strengthened the
nation and the people. To this extent he thought in micro/macrocosmic
terms.
The “deification” of Mao
Zedong
The people’s tribune was also not free of the
temptations of his own “deification”: “The Mao cult”, writes his personal
physician, Zhisui, “spread in schools, factories,
and communes — the Party Chairman became a god” (Li Zhisui,
1994, p. 442). At heart, the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution must be
regarded as a religious movement, and the “Marxist” from Beijing reveled in his worship as a
“higher being”.
Numerous reports of the “marvels of the thoughts
of Mao Zedong”, the countless prayer-like letters from readers in the
Chinese newspapers, and the little “red book” with the sacrosanct words of
the great helmsman, known worldwide as the “ bible of Mao “, and much more
make a religion of Maoism. Objects which factory workers gave to the “Great
Chairman” were put on display on altars and revered like holy relics. After
“men of the people” shook his hand, they didn’t wash theirs for weeks and
coursed through the country seizing the hands of passers
by under the impression that they could give them a little of Mao’s
energy. In some Tibetan temples pictures of the Dalai Lama were even
replaced with icons of the Chinese Communist leader.
In this, Mao was more like a red pontiff than a
people’s rebel. His followers revered him as a god-man in the face of whom
the individuality of every other mortal Chinese was extinguished. “The
'equality before god'", Wolfgang Bauer writes in reference to the
Great Chairman Mao Zedong, “really did illuminate, and allowed those who
felt themselves moved by it to become ‘brothers’, or monks [!] of some kind clothed in robes that were not just the
most lowly but thus also identical and that caused all individual
characteristics to vanish” (Bauer, 1989, p. 569).
The Tibetans, themselves the subjects of a
god-king, had no problems with such images; for them the “communist” Mao
Zedong was the “Chinese Emperor”, at least from the Cultural Revolution on.
Later, they even transferred the imperial metaphors to the “capitalist”
reformer Deng Xiaoping: “Neither the term 'emperor' nor 'paramount leader'
nor ‘patriarch’ appear in the Chinese constitution but nevertheless that is
the position Deng held ... he possessed political power for life, just like
the emperors of old” (Tibetan Review,
March 1997, p. 23).
Mao Zedong’s
“Tantrism”
The most astonishing factor, however, is that like
the Dalai Lama Mao Zedong also performed “tantric” practices, albeit à la chinoise.
As his personal physician, Li Zhisui reports,
even at great age the Great Chairman maintained an insatiable sexual
appetite. One concubine followed another. In this he imitated a privilege
that on this scale was accorded only to the Chinese Emperors. Like these,
he saw his affairs less as providing satisfaction of his lust and instead
understood them to be sexual magic exercises. The Chinese “Tantric” [4] is primarily a specialist in the extension of
the human lifespan. It is not uncommon for the old texts to recommend
bringing younger girls together with older men as energetic “fresheners”.
This method of rejuvenation is spread throughout all of Asia
and was also known to the high lamas in Tibet. The Kalachakra Tantra
recommends “the rejuvenation of a 70-year-old via a mudra [wisdom girl]" (Grünwedel, Kalacakra II,
p. 115).
Mao also knew the secret of semen retention: “He
became a follower of Taoist sexual practices,” his personal physician
writes, “through which he sought to extend his life and which were able to
serve him as a pretext for his pleasures. Thus he claimed, for instance,
that he needed yin shui (the water of yin, i.e., vaginal secretions) to complement his own yang (his masculine substance, the
source of his strength, power, and longevity) which was running low. Since
it was so important for his health and strength to build up his yang he dared not squander it. For
this reason he only rarely ejaculated during coitus and instead won
strength and power from the secretions of his female partners. The more yin shui
the Chairman absorbed, the more powerful his male substance became.
Frequent sexual intercourse was necessary for this, and he best preferred
to go to bed with several women at once. He also asked his female partners
to introduce him to other women — ostensibly so as to strengthen his life
force through shared orgies” (Li Zhisui, 1994,
pp. 387-388). He gave new female recruits a handbook to read entitled Secrets of an Ordinary Girl, so that
they could prepare themselves for a Taoist rendezvous with him. Like the
pupils of a lama, young members of the “red court” were fascinated by the
prospect of offering the Great Chairman their wives as concubines (Li Zhisui, 1994, pp. 388, 392).
The two chief symbols of his life can be regarded
as emblems of his tantric androgyny: the feminine “water” and masculine
“sun”. Wolfgang Bauer has drawn attention to the highly sacred significance
which water and swimming have in Mao’s symbolic world. His demonstrations
of swimming, in which he covered long stretches of the Yangtze, the “Yellow
River”, were supposed to “express the dawning of a new, bold undertaking,
through which a better world would arise: it was”, the author says, “a kind
of cultic action” which he “... completed with an almost ritual necessity
on the eve of the 'Cultural Revolution'" (Bauer, 1989, p. 566).
One of the most popular images of this period was
of Mao as the “Great Helmsman” who unerringly steered the masses through
the waves of the revolutionary ocean. With printruns
in the billions (!), poems such as the following were distributed among the
people:
Traveling upon the high seas we trust in the helmsman
As the ten thousand creatures in growing trust the sun.
If rain and dew moisten them, the sprouts become strong.
So we trust, when we push on with the revolution,
in the thoughts of Mao Zedong.
Fish cannot live away from water,
Melons do not grow outside their bed.
The revolutionary masses cannot stay apart
From the Communist Party.
The thoughts of Mao Zedong are their never-setting sun.
(quoted by Bauer,
1989, p. 567)
In this song we encounter the second symbol of
power in the Mao cult alongside water: the “red sun” or the “great eastern
sun”, a metaphor which — as we have already reported — later reemerges in
connection with the Tibetan “Shambhala warrior”, Chögyam Trungpa. „Long life to Chairman Mao, our supreme commander
and the most reddest red sun in our hearts”, sang
the cultural revolutionaries (Avedon, 1985, p. 349). The “thoughts of Mao Zedong” were also
“equated with a red sun that rose over a red age as it were, a veneration
that found expression in countless likenesses of Mao’s features surrounded
by red rays” (Bauer, 1989, p. 568). In this heliolatry, the Sinologist
Wolfgang Bauer sees a religious influence that originated not in China but
in the western Asian religions of light like Zoroastrianism and Manichaeism
that entered the Middle Kingdom during the Tang period and had become
connected with Buddhist ideas there (Bauer, 1989, p. 567). Indeed, the same
origin is ascribed to the Kalachakra Tantra by several scholars.
Mao Zedong as the never setting sun
Mao Zedong’s theory of
“blankness” also seems tantric. As early as 1958 he wrote that the China’s
weight within the family of peoples rested on the fact that “first of all
[it] is poor and secondly, blank. ... A blank sheet of paper has no stains,
and thus the newest and most beautiful words can be written on it, the
newest and most beautiful images painted on it” (quoted by Bauer, 1989, pp.
555-556). Bauer sees explicit traces of the Buddhist ideal of “emptiness”
in this: “The 'blank person', whose presence in Mao’s view is especially
pronounced among the Chinese people, is not just the 'pure', but also at
the same time also the 'new person’ in whom ... all the old organs in the
body have been exchanged for new ones, and all the old convictions for new
ones. Here the actual meaning of the spiritual transformation of the
Chinese person, deliberately imbuing all facets of the personality, bordering
on the mystic, encouraged with all the means of mass psychology, and which
the West with horror classifies as 'brainwashing', becomes apparent”
(Bauer, 1989, p. 556).
As if they wanted to exorcise their own repellant tantra practices through their projection onto their
main opponent, the Tibetans in exile appeal to Chinese sources to link the
Cultural Revolution with cannibalistic ritual practices. Individuals who
were killed during the ideological struggles became the objects of
cannibalism. At night and with great secrecy members of the Red Guard were
said to have torn out the hearts and livers of the murdered and consumed
them raw. There were supposed to have been occasions where people were
struck down so that their brains could be sucked out using a metal tube (Tibetan Review, March 1997, p. 22).
The anti-Chinese propaganda may arouse doubts about how much truth there is
in such accounts, yet should they really have taken place they too would
bring the revolutionary events close to a tantric pattern.
A spiritual rivalry
between the Fourteenth Dalai Lama and Mao Zedong?
The hidden religious basis of the Chinese Cultural
Revolution prevents us from describing the comprehensive opposition between
Mao Zedong and the Dalai Lama as an antinomy between materialism and
spirituality — an interpretation which the Tibetan lamas, the Chinese
Communists, and the West have all given it, albeit all with differing
evaluations. Rather, both systems (the Chinese and the Tibetan) stood — as
the ruler of the Potala and the regent of the Forbidden City had for centuries — in mythic contest
for the control of the world, both reached for the symbol of the “great
eastern sun”. Mao too had attempted to impose his political ideology upon
the whole of humanity. He applied the “theory of the taking of cities via
the land” and via the farmers which he wrote and put into practice in the
“Long March” as a revolutionary concept for the entire planet, in that he
declared the non-industrialized countries of Asia, Africa, and South
America to be “villages” that would revolt against the rich industrial
nations as the “cities”.
But there can only be one world ruler! In 1976,
the year in which the “red pontiff” (Mao Zedong) died, according to the
writings of the Tibetans in exile things threatened to take a turn for the
worse for the Tibetans. The state oracle had pronounced the gloomiest
predictions. Thereupon His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama withdrew into
retreat, the longest that he had ever made in India: “An extremely strict
practice”, he later commented personally, “which requires complete
seclusion over several weeks, linked to a very special teaching of the
Fifth Dalai Lama” (Levenson, 1992, p. 242). The
result of this “practice” was, as Claude B. Levenson
reports, the following: firstly there was “a major earthquake in China with
thousands of victims. Then Mao made his final bow upon the mortal stage.
This prompted an Indian who was close to the Tibetans to state, 'That’s
enough, stop your praying, otherwise the sky will fall on the heads of the
Chinese'" (Levenson, 1992, p. 242). In fact,
shortly before his death the “Great Chairman” was directly affected by this
earthquake. As his personal physician (who was present) reports, the bed
shook, the house swayed, and a nearby tin roof rattled fearsomely.
Whether or not this was a coincidence, if a secret
ritual of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama was conducted to “liberate” Mao Zedong,
it can only have been a matter of the voodoo-like killing practices from
the Golden Manuscript of the
“Great Fifth”. Further, it is clear from the Fourteenth Dalai Lama’s
autobiography that on the day of Mao’s death he was busy with the Time Tantra. At that time [1976], the Kundun
says. „I was in Ladakh, part of the remote Indian
province of Jammu and Kashmir, where I was
conducting a Kalachakra
initiation. On the second the ceremony’s three days, Mao died. And the
third day, it rained all morning. But, in the afternoon, there appeared one
of the most beautiful rainbows I have ever seen. I was certain that it must be a good omen” (Dalai Lama
XIV, 1990, 222)
The post-Maoist era in Tibet
The Chinese of the Deng era recognized the error
of their politics during the Cultural Revolution and publicly criticized
themselves because of events in Tibet. An attempt was made to
correct the mistakes and various former restrictions were relaxed step by
step. As early as 1977 the Kundun was offered the chance to return to Tibet. This
was no subterfuge but rather an earnest attempt to appease. One could talk about
everything, Deng Xiaoping said, with the exception of total independence
for Tibet.
Thus, over the course of years, with occasional
interruptions, informal contacts sprang up between the representatives of
the Tibetans in exile and the Chinese Party cadres. But no agreement was
reached.
The Communist Party of China guaranteed the
freedom of religious practice, albeit with certain restrictions. For
example, it was forbidden to practice “religious propaganda” outside of the
monastery walls, or to recruit monks who were under 18 years old, so as to
protect children from “religious indoctrination”. But by and large the
Buddhist faith could be practiced unhampered, and it has bloomed like never
before in the last 35 years.
In the meantime hundreds of thousands of western
tourists have visited the “roof of the world”. Individuals and travel
groups of exiled Tibetans have also been permitted to visit the Land of Snows privately or were even
officially invited as “guests of state”. Among them has been Gyalo Thondup, the Dalai
Lama’s brother and military advisor, who conspired against the Chinese
Communists with the CIA for years and counted among the greatest enemies of
Beijing.
The Chinese were firmly convinced that the Kundun’s
official delegations would not arouse much interest among the populace. The
opposite was the case. Many thousands poured into Lhasa to see the brother of the Dalai
Lama.
But apparently this “liberal” climate could not and still cannot heal the deep wounds
inflicted after the invasion and during the Chinese occupation.
Up until 1998, the opposition to Beijing in Tibet was stronger than ever
before since the flight of the Dalai Lama, as the bloody rebellion of
October 1987 [5] and the since then
unbroken wave of demonstrations and protests indicates. For this reason a
state of emergency was in force in Lhasa
and the neighboring region until 1990. The Tibet researcher Ronald
Schwartz has published an interesting study in which he convincingly proves
that the Tibetan resistance activities conform to ritualized patterns.
Religion and politics, protest and ritual are blended here as well.
Alongside its communicative function, every demonstration thus possesses a
symbolic one, and is for the participants at heart a magic act which
through constant repetition is supposed to achieve the expulsion of the
Chinese and the development of a national awareness among the populace.
The central protest ceremony in the country
consists in the circling of the Jokhang Temple
by monks and laity who carry the Tibetan flag. This action is known as khorra and is
linked to a tradition of circumambulation. Since time immemorial the
believers have circled shrines in a clockwise direction with a prayer drum
in the hand and the om mani padme hum formula on their lips, on the one hand to
ensure a better rebirth, on the other to worship the deities dwelling
there. However, these days the khorra is linked — and this is historically recent —
with protest activity against the Chinese: Leaflets are distributed,
placards carried, the Dalai Lama is cheered. At the same time monks offer
up sacrificial cakes and invoke above all the terrible protective goddess, Palden Lhamo. As
if they wanted to neutralize the magic of the protest ritual, the Chinese
have begun wandering around the Jokhang in the
opposite direction, i.e., counterclockwise.
Those monks who were wounded and killed by the
Chinese security forces whilst performing the ritual in the eighties are
considered the supreme national martyrs. Their sacrificial deaths demanded
widespread imitation and in contrast to the Buddhist prohibition against
violence could be legitimated without difficulty. To sacrifice your life
does not contradict Buddhism, young monks from the Drepung
monastery told western tourists (Schwartz, 1994, p. 71).
Without completely justifying his claims, Schwartz
links the circling of the Jokhang with the vision
of the Buddhist world kingship. He refers to the fact that Tibet’s
first Buddhist ruler, Songtsen Gampo, built the national shrine and that his spirit is
supposed to be conjured up by the constant circumambulation: „Tibetans in
succeeding centuries assimilated Songtsen Gampo to the universal [!] Buddhist paradigm of the
ideal king, the Chakravartin
or wheel-turning king, who subdues demonic forces and establishes a polity
committed to promoting Dharma or
righteousness” (Schwartz, 1994, p. 33).
A link between the world ruler thus evoked and the
“tantric female sacrifice” is provided by the myth that the living heart of
Srinmo,
the mother of Tibet,
beats in a mysterious lake beneath the Jokhang
where it was once nailed fast with a dagger by the king, Songtsen Gampo. In the light
of the orientation of contemporary Buddhism, which remains firmly anchored
in the andocentric tradition, the ritual circling of the temple can hardly
be intended to free the earth goddess. In contrast, it can be assumed that
the monk’s concern is to strengthen the bonds holding down the female
deity, just as the earth spirits are nailed to the ground anew in every Kalachakra ritual.
After a pause of 25 years, the Tibetan New Year’s
celebration (Monlam), banned by the Chinese in
1960, are since1986 once more held in front of the Jokhang.
This religious occasion, which as we have shown above is symbolically
linked with the killing of King Langdarma, has
been seized upon by the monks as a chance to provoke the Chinese
authorities. But here too, the political protest cannot be separated from
the mythological intention. „Its final ceremony,” Schwartz writes of the
current Mönlam festivals, „which centres on Maitreya, the
Buddha of the next age, looks forward to the return of harmony to the world
with the re-emergence of the pure doctrine in the mythological future. The
demonic powers threatening society, and bringing strife and suffering, are
identified with the moral degeneration of the present age. The recommitment
of Tibet as a nation to the cause of Buddhism is thus a step toward the
collective salvation of the world” (Schwartz, 1994, p. 88) The ritual circling of the Jokhang and the feast held before the “cathedral” thus
do not just prepare for the liberation of Tibet from the Chinese yoke, but
also the establishment of a worldwide Buddhocracy
(the resurrection of the pure doctrine in a mythological future).
Considered neutrally, the current social situation
in Tibet
proves to be far more complex than the Tibetans in exile would wish.
Unquestionably, the Chinese have introduced many and decisive improvements
in comparison to the feudal state Buddhism of before 1959. But likewise there
is no question that the Tibetan population have
had to endure bans, suppression, seizures, and human rights violations in
the last 35 years. But the majority of these injustices and restrictions
also apply throughout the rest of China. The cultural and ethnic
changes under the influence of the Chinese Han and the Islamic Hui pouring in to the country may well be specific. Yet
here too, there are processes at work which can hardly be described (as the
“Dalai Lama” constantly does) as “cultural genocide”, but rather as a
result of the transformation from a feudal state via communism into a highly industrialized and multicultural
country.
A pan-Asian vision of the Kalachakra Tantra?
In this section we would like to discuss two
possible political developments which have not as far as we know been
considered before, because they appear absurd on the basis of the current
international state of affairs. However, in speculating about future events
in world history, one has to free oneself from the current position of the
fronts. The twentieth century has produced unimaginable changes in the
shortest of times, with the three most important political events being the
collapse of colonialism, the rise and fall of fascism, and that of
communism. How often have we had to experience that the bitterest of
enemies today become tomorrow’s best friends and vice versa. It is
therefore legitimate to consider the question of whether the current Dalai
Lama or one of his future incarnations can with an appeal to the Shambhala myth set himself up as the head of
a Central Asian major-power block with China as the leading nation. The
other question we want to consider is this — could the Chinese themselves
use the ideology of the Kalachakra Tantra to pursue an imperialist policy in the
future?
The Kalachakra Tantra and the
Shambhala myth had and still have a quite
exceptional popularity in Central Asia.
There, they hardly fulfill a need for world peace, but rather –especially
in Mongolia
–act as a symbol for dreams of becoming a major power. Thus the Shambhala
prophecy undoubtedly possesses the explosive force to power an aggressive Asia’s imperialist ideology. This idea is widespread
among the Kalmyks,
the various Mongolian tribes, the Bhutanese, the Sikkimese,
and the Ladhakis.
Even the Japanese made use of the Shambhala myth in the forties in order to
establish a foothold in Mongolia.
The power-hungry fascist elite of the island were generous in creating
political-religious combinations. They had known how to fuse Buddhism and Shintoism together into an imposing imperialist
ideology in their own country. Why should this not also happen with
Lamaism? Hence Japanese agents strove to create contacts with the lamas of Central Asia and Tibet (Kimura, 1990). They even
funded a search party for the incarnation of the Ninth Jebtsundampa
Khutuktu, the “yellow pontiff of the Mongolians”,
and sent it to Lhasa
for this purpose (Tibetan Review,
February 1991, p. 19). There were already close contacts to Japan under
the Thirteenth Dalai Lama; he was advised in military questions, for
example, was a Japanese by the name of Yasujiro Yajima (Tibetan Review, June 1982, pp. 8f.).
In line with the worldwide renaissance in all
religions and their fundamentalist strains it can therefore not be excluded
that Lamaism also regain a foothold in China and that after a return of the
Dalai Lama the Kalachakra
ideology become widespread there. It would then — as Edwin Bernbaum opines — just be seeds that had been sown before
which would sprout. „Through the Mongolians, the Manchus,
and the influence of the Panchen Lamas, the Kalachakra Tantra even had an
impact on China:
A major landmark of Peking, the Pai t’a, a
white Tibetan-style stupa on a hill overlooking
the Forbidden City, bears the emblem of
the Kalachakra Teaching, The Ten of Power.
Great Kalachakra Initiations were also given in Peking.” (Bernbaum,
1980, p. 286, f. 7) These were conducted in the thirties by the Panchen Lama.
Taiwan: A springboard for
Tibetan Buddhism and the Fourteenth Dalai Lama?
Yet as a decisive indicator of the potential
“conquest” of China
by Tibetan Buddhism, its explosive spread in Taiwan must be mentioned.
Tibetan lamas first began to missionize the
island in 1949. But their work was soon extinguished and could only be
resumed in 1980. From this point in time on, however, the tantric doctrine
has enjoyed a triumphal progress. The Deutsche Presse
Agentur (dpa) estimates
the number of the Kundun’s
followers in Taiwan to be between 200 and 300 thousand and increasing,
whilst the Tibetan Review of May
1997 even reports a figure of half a million. Over a hundred Tibetan
Buddhist shrines have been built. Every month around 100 Lamaist monks from all countries visit Taiwan “to
raise money for Tibetan temples around the world” there (Tibetan Review, May 1995, p. 11).
Increasingly, high lamas are also reincarnating
themselves in Taiwanese, i.e., Chinese, families. To date, four of these
have been “discovered” — an adult and three children — in the years 1987,
1990, 1991, and 1995. Lama Lobsang Jungney told a reporter that “Reincarnation can happen
wherever there is the need for Buddhism. Taiwan is a blessed land. It
could have 40 reincarnated lamas.” (Tibetan
Review, May 1995, pp. 10-11).
In March 1997 a spectacular reception was prepared
for the Dalai Lama in many locations around the country. The political
climate had shifted fundamentally. The earlier skepticism and reservation with which the god-king was treated by
officials in Taipei,
since as nationalists they did not approve of a detachment of the Land of Snows from China, had
given way to a warm-hearted atmosphere. His Holiness was praised in the
press as the “most significant visionary of peace” of our time. The
encounter with President Lee Teng-hui, at which
the two “heads of government” discussed spiritual topics among other
things, was celebrated in the media as a “meeting of the philosophy kings”
(Tibetan Review, May 1997, p.
15). The Kundun
has rarely been so applauded. “In fact,” the Tibetan Review writes, “the Taiwan visit was the most
politically charged of all his overseas visits in recent memory” (Tibetan Review, May 1997, p. 12). In
the southern harbor city of Kaohsiung
the Kundun
held a rousing speech in front of 50,000 followers in a sport stadium. The
Tibetan national flag was flown at every location where he stopped. The
Taiwanese government approved a large sum for the establishment of a Tibet
office in Taipei.
The office is referred to by the Tibetans in exile as a “de facto embassy”.
At around the same time, despite strong protest
from Beijing,
Tibetan monks brought an old tooth of the Buddha, which fleeing lamas had
taken with them during the Cultural Revolution, to Taiwan. The
mainland Chinese demanded the tooth back. In contrast a press report said,
“Taiwanese politicians expressed the hope [that] the relic would bring
peace to Taiwan,
after several corruption scandals and air disasters had cost over 200
people their lives” (Schweizerisch Tibetische Freundschaft, April 14, 1998 - Internet).
The spectacular development of Lamaist
Buddhism in Nationalist China (Taiwan) shows that the land
could be used as an ideal springboard to establish itself in a China freed
of the Communist Party. Ultimately, the Kundun says, the Chinese had collected negative karma through the
occupation of Tibet
and would have to bear the consequences of this (Tibetan Review, May 1997, p. 19). How could
this karma be better worked off than through the Middle Kingdom as a
whole joining the Lamaist faith.
The Fourteenth Dalai Lama
and the Chinese
The cultural relationships of the Kundun and of
members of his family to the Chinese are more complex and multi-layered
than they are perceived to be in the West. Let us recall that Chinese was spoken
in the home of the god-king’s parents in Takster.
In connection with the regent, Reting Rinpoche, the father of the Dalai Lama showed such a
great sympathy towards Beijing
that still today the Chinese celebrate him as one of their “patriots”
(Craig, 1997, p. 232). Two of His Holiness’s brothers, Gyalo
Thundup and Tendzin Choegyal, speak fluent Chinese. His impressive dealings
with Beijing
and his pragmatic politics have several times earned Gyalo
Thundup the accusation by Tibetans in exile that
he is a traitor who would sell Tibet to the Chinese (Craig,
1997, pp. 334ff.). Dharamsala has maintained
personal contacts with many influential figures in Hong
Kong and Taiwan
since the sixties.
Since the nineties, the constant exchange with the
Chinese has become increasingly central to the Kundun’s politics. In a
speech made in front of Chinese students in Boston (USA) on September 9, 1995, His
Holiness begins with a statement of how important the contact to China and
its people is for him. The usual constitutional statements and the
well-known demands for peace, human rights, religious freedom, pluralism,
etc. then follow, as if a western parliamentarian were campaigning for his
country’s democracy. Only at the end of his speech does the Kundun let
the cat out of the bag and nonchalantly proposes Tibetan Buddhism as
China’s new religion and thus, indirectly, himself as the Buddhist messiah:
“Finally it is my strong believe and hope that however small a nation Tibet
might be, we can still contribute to the peace and the prosperity of China.
Decades of communist rule and the commercial activities in recent years
both driven by extreme materialism, be it communist or capitalist, are
destroying much of China's
spiritual and moral values. A huge spiritual and moral vacuum is thus being
rapidly created in the Chinese society. In this situation, the Tibetan
Buddhist culture and philosophy would be able to serve millions of Chinese
brothers and sisters in their search for moral and spiritual values. After
all, traditionally Buddhism is not an alien philosophy to the Chinese
people” (Tibetan Review, October
1995, p. 18). Advertising for the Kalachakra initiation organized for the year 1999 in Bloomington, Indiana
was also available in Chinese. Since August 2000 one of the web sites run
by the Tibetans in exile has been appearing in Chinese.
In recent months (up until 1998), “pro-Chinese”
statements by the Kundun
have been issued more and more frequently. In 1997 he explained that the
materialistic Chinese could only profit from an adoption of spiritual
Lamaism. Everywhere, indicators of a re-Buddhization
of China
were already to be seen. For example, a high-ranking member of the Chinese
military had recently had himself blessed by the Mongolian great lama, Kusho Bakula Rinpoche, when the latter was in Beijing briefly. Another Chinese officer
had participated in a Lamaist event seated in the
lotus position, and a Tibetan woman had told him how Tibetan Buddhism was
flourishing in various regions in China.
"So from these stories we can see”, the Dalai
Lama continued, “that when the situation in China proper becomes more open,
with more freedom, then definitely many Chinese will find useful
inspiration from Tibetan Buddhist traditions” (Shambhala Sun, Archive, November 1996). In 1998, in an interview that
His Holiness gave the German edition of Playboy,
he quite materialistically says: “If we remain a part of China we
will also profit materially from the enormous upturn of the country” (Playboy, German edition, March 1998,
p. 44). The army of monks who are supposed to
carry out this ambitious project of a “Lamaization
of China” are currently being trained in Taiwan.
In 1997, the Kundun wrote to the Chinese
Party Secretary, Jiang Zemin, that he would like
to undertake a “non-political pilgrimage” to Wutaishan
in Shanxi
province (not in Tibet).
The most sacred shrine of the Bodhisattva Manujri, who from a Lamaist point of view is incarnated in the person of
the Chinese Emperor, is to be found in Wutaishan.
Thus for the lamas the holy site harbors the la, the ruling energy of the Chinese Empire. In preparing for
such a trip, the Kundun, who is a consistent thinker in
such matters, will certainly have considered how best to magically acquire
the la
of the highly geomantically significant site of Wutaishan.
The god-king wants to meet Jiang Zemin at this sacred location to discuss Tibetan
autonomy. But, as we have indicated, his primary motive may well be an
esoteric one. A “Kalachakra
ritual for world peace” is planned there. Traditionally, the Wutai
mountains are seen as Lamaism’s gateway to China. In the magical world
view of the Dalai Lama, the construction of a sand mandala
in this location would be the first step in the spiritual conquest of the
Chinese realm. Already in 1987, the well-known Tibetan lama, Khenpo Jikphun conducted a Kalachakra initiation in front of 6000 people.
He is also supposed to have levitated there and floated through the air for
a brief period (Goldstein, 1998, p. 85).
At the end of his critical book, Prisoners of Shangri-La, the Tibetologist and Buddhist Donald S. Lopez addresses the
Fourteenth Dalai Lama’s vision of “conquering” China specifically through the Kalachakra Tantra.
Here he discusses the fact that participants in the ritual are reborn as Shambhala warriors. “The Dalai Lama”, Lopez says, “may
have found a more efficient technique for populating Shambhala
and recruiting troops for the army of the twenty-fifth king, an army that
will defeat the enemies of Buddhism and bring the utopia of Shambhala, hidden for so long beyond the Himalayas, to
the world. It is the Dalai Lama’s prayer, he says, that he will some day give the Kalachakra initiation in Beijing” (Lopez,
1998, p. 207).
The “Strasbourg Declaration” (of June 15, 1988),
in which the Dalai Lama renounces a claim on state autonomy for Tibet if he
is permitted to return to his country, creates the best conditions for a
possible Lamaization of the greater Chinese
territory. It is interesting in this context that with the renouncement of political autonomy, the Kundun at the same time articulated a territorial
expansion for the cultural
autonomy of Tibet.
The border provinces of Kam and Amdo, which for centuries have possessed a mixed
Chinese-Tibetan population, are now supposed to come under the cultural
political control of the Kundun. Moderate circles in Beijing approve of the Dalai Lama’s
return, as does the newly founded Democratic Party of China under Xu Wenli.
Also, in recent years the numerous contacts
between exile Tibetan politicians and Beijing have not just been hostile,
rather the contacts sometimes awake the impression that here an Asian power play is at work behind closed
doors, one that is no longer easy for the West to understand. For example,
His Holiness and the Chinese successfully cooperated in the search for and
appointment of the reincarnation of the Karmapa,
the leader of the Red Hats, although here a Kagyupa
faction did propose another candidate and enthrone him in the West.
Since Clinton’s
visit to China
(in 1998) events in the secret diplomacy between the Tibetans in exile and
the Chinese are becoming increasingly public. On Chinese television Clinton said to Jiang
Zemin, “I have met the Dalai Lama. I think he is
an upright man and believe that he and President Jiang would really get on
if they spoke to one another” (Süddeutsche Zeitung, July 17, 1998). Thereupon, His Holiness
publicly admitted that several “private channels” to Peking
already existed which produce “fruitful contacts” (Süddeutsche Zeitung,
July 17, 1998). However, since 1999 the wind has turned again. The “anti
Dalai Lama campaigns” of the Chinese are now ceaseless. Owing to Chinese
interventions the Kundun has had to endure
several political setbacks throughout the entire Far
East. During his visit to Japan in the Spring of 2000 he
was no longer officially received. Even the Mayor of Tokyo (Shintaro Isihara), a friend
of the religious dignitary, had to cancel his invitation. The great hope of
being present at the inauguration of the new Taiwanese president, Chen Shui-Bian on May 20, 2000, was not to be, even though his
participation was originally planned here too. Despite internal and
international protest, South
Korea refused the Dalai Lama an entry
visa. The Xchinese even succeeded in excluding
the Kundun from the Millennium Summit of World
Religions held by the UN at the end of August 2000 in New York. The worldwide protests at this
decision remained quite subdued.
The Fourteenth Dalai Lama
and communism
The Kundun’s constant attestations that Buddhism and
Communism have common interests should also be seen as a further currying
of favor with the Chinese. One can thus read numerous statements like the
following from His Holiness: „The Lord Buddha wanted improvement in the
spiritual realm, and Marx in the material; what alliance could be more
fruitful?” (Hicks and Chogyam, 1990, p. 143); “I believe firmly there is common ground
between communism and Buddhism” (Grunfeld, 1996,
p. 188); “Normally I describe myself as half Marxist, half monk” (Zeitmagazin 1988, no. 44, p. 24;
retranslation). He is even known to have made a plea for a communist
economic policy: “As far as the economy is concerned, the Marxist theory
could possibly complement Buddhism...” (Levenson,
1992, p. 334). It is thus no wonder that at the god-king’s suggestion , the “Communist Party of Tibet” was founded.
The Dalai Lama has become a left-wing revolutionary even by the standards
of those western nostalgics who mourn the passing
of communism.
Up until in the eighties the Dalai Lama’s concern
was to create via such comments a good relationship with the Soviet Union, which had since the sixties become
embroiled in a dangerous conflict with China. As we have seen, even
the envoy of the Thirteenth Dalai Lama, Agvan Dorjiev, was a master at changing political fronts as
he switched from the Tsar to Lenin without a problem following the
Bolshevist seizure of power. Yet it is interesting that His Holiness has to
continued to make such pro-Marxist statements
after the collapse of most communist systems. Perhaps this is for ethical
reasons, or because China
at least ideologically continues to cling to its communist past?
These days through such statements the Kundun wants
to keep open the possibility of a return to Tibet under Chinese control. In
1997 in Taiwan
he explained that he was neither anti-Chinese nor anti-communist (Tibetan Review, May 1997, p. 14). He
even criticized China
because it had stepped back from its Marxist theory of economics and the
gulf between rich and poor is thus becoming ever wider (Martin Scheidegger, speaking at the Gesellschaft Schweizerisch
Tibetische Freundschaft
[Society for Swiss-Tibetan Friendship], August 18, 1997).
Are the Chinese interested in the Shambhala
myth?
Do the Chinese have an interest in the Kalachakra Tantra
and the Shambhala myth? Let us repeat, since time
immemorial China
and Tibet
have oriented themselves to a mythic conception of history which is not
immediately comprehensible to Americans or Europeans. Almost nobody here
wants to believe that this archaic way of thinking continued to exist, even
increased, under “materialistic” communism. For a Westerner, China today
still represents “the land of materialism” vis-à-vis Tibet as
“the land of spirituality”. There are, however, rare exceptions who avoid
this cliché, such as Hugh Richardson for example, who establishes the
following in his history of Tibet:
“The Chinese have ... a profound regard for history. But history, for them
was not simply a scientific study. It had the features of a cult, akin to
ancestor worship, with the ritual object of presenting the past, favorably
emended and touched up, as a model for current political action. It had to
conform also to the mystical view of China as the Centre of the World, the
Universal Empire in which every other country had a natural urge to become
a part … The Communists … were the first Chinese to have the power to
convert their atavistic theories into fact” (quoted by Craig, 1997, p.
146).
If it was capable of surviving communism, this
mythically based understanding of history will hardly disappear with it. In
contrast, religious revivals are now running in parallel to the flourishing
establishment of capitalist economic systems and the increasing
mechanization of the country. Admittedly the Han Chinese are as a people
very much oriented to material things, and Confucianism which has regained
respectability in the last few years counts as a philosophy of reason not a
religion. But history has demonstrated that visionary and ecstatic cults
from outside were able to enter China with ease. The Chinese
power elite have imported their religious-political ideas from other
cultures several times in the past centuries. Hence the Middle Kingdom is
historically prepared for such ideological/spiritual invasions, then up to
and including Marxist communism it has been seen, the Sinologist Wolfgang
Bauer writes, “that, as far as religion is concerned, China never went on
the offensive, never missionized, but rather the
reverse, was always only the target of such missionizations
from outside” (Bauer, 1989, p. 570). Nevertheless such religious imports
could never really monopolize the country, rather they all just had the one
task, namely to reinforce the idea of China as the center of the
world. This was also true for Marxist Maoism.
Let us also not forget that the Middle Kingdom
followed the teachings of the Buddha for centuries. The earliest evidence
of Buddhism can be traced back to the first century of our era. In the Tang
dynasty many of the Emperors were Buddhists. Tibetan Lamaism held a great
fascination especially in the final epoch, that of the Manchus.
Thus for a self-confident Chinese power elite a Chinese reactivation of the
Shambhala myth could without further ado
deliver a traditionally anchored pan-Asian ideology to replace a fading
communism. As under the Manchus, there is no need
for such a vision to square with the ideas of the entire people.
The Panchen
Lama
Perhaps the Dalai Lama’s return to Tibet is
not even needed at all for the Time Tantra to be
able to spread in China.
Perhaps the Chinese are already setting up their own
Kalachakra
master, the Panchen Lama, who is traditionally
considered friendly towards China.
„Tibetans
believe,” Edwin Bernbaum writes, „that the Panchen Lamas have a special connection with Shambhala,
that makes them unique authorities on the kingdom.” (Bernbaum,
1980, p. 185). In addition
there is the widespread prophecy that Rudra Chakrin, the doomsday general, will
be an incarnation of the Panchen Lama.
As we have already reported, the common history of
the Dalai Lama and the ruler from Tashi Lunpho (the Panchen Lama)
exhibits numerous political and spiritual discordances, which among other
things led to the two hierarchs becoming allied with different foreign
powers in their running battle against one another. The Panchen
Lamas have always proudly defended their independence from Lhasa. By and large they were more friendly with the Chinese than were the rulers in
the Potala. In 1923 the inner-Tibetan conflict
came to a head in the Ninth Panchen Lama’s flight
to China.
In
his own words he was „unable to live under these troubles and suffering” inflicted on him by Lhasa (Mehra, 1976, p. 45). Both he and the Dalai Lama had obtained weapons
and munitions in advance, and an armed clash between the two princes of the
church had been in the air for years. This exhausted itself, however, in
the unsuccessful pursuit of the fleeing hierarch from Tashilunpho
by a body of three hundred men under orders from Lhasa. The Thirteenth Dalai Lama was so
enraged that he denied the Buddhahood of the
fleeing incarnation of Amitabha, because this was selfish, proud, and ignorant.
It
had, together „with his sinful companoins, who
resembled mad elephants and followed wrong path,” made itself scarce (Mehra, 1976, p. 45).
In 1932 the Panchen Lama
is supposed to have planned an invasion of Tibet with 10,000 Chinese
soldiers to conquer the Land
of Snows and set
himself up as its ruler. Only after the death of the “Great Thirteenth” was
a real reconciliation with Lhasa
possible. In 1937 the weakened and disappointed prince of the church
returned to Tibet
but died within a year. His pro-China politics, however, still found
expression in his will in which he prophesied that “Buddha Amitabha’s
next incarnation will be found among the Chinese” (Hermanns,
1956, p. 323).
In the search for the new incarnation the Chinese
nation put forward one candidate and the Tibetan government another. Both
parties refused to recognize the other’s boy. However, under great
political pressure the Chinese were finally able to prevail. The Tenth Panchen Lama was then brought up under their influence.
After the Dalai Lama had fled in 1959, the Chinese appointed the hierarch
from Tashilunpho as Tibet’s nominal head of state.
However, he only exercised this office in a very limited manner and sometimes he
allowed to be carried away to make declarations of solidarity with the
Dalai Lama. This earned
him years of house arrest and a ban on public appearances. Even if the
Tibetans in exile now promote such statements as patriotic confessions, by
and large the Tenth Panchen Lama played either
his own or Beijing’s part. In 1978 he broke the vow of celibacy imposed
upon him by the Gelugpa order, marrying a Chinese
woman and having a daughter with her.
Shortly before his death he actively participated
in the capitalist economic policies of the Deng Xiaoping era and founded the
Kangchen
in Tibet
in 1987. This was a powerful umbrella organization that controlled a number
of companies and businesses, distributed international development funds
for Tibet,
and exported Tibetan products. The neocapitalist
business elite collected in the Kangchen was for the most part recruited from old
Tibetan noble families and were opposed to the
politics of the Dalai Lama, whilst from the other side they enjoyed the
supportive benevolence of Beijing.
As far as the Tibetan protest movement of recent
years is concerned, the Tenth Panchen Lama tried
to exert a conciliatory influence upon the revolting monks, but regretted
that they would not listen to him. “We insist upon re-educating the
majority of monks and nuns who become guilty of minor crimes [i.e.,
resistance against the Chinese authorities]" he announced publicly and
went on, “But we will show no pity to those who have stirred up unrest” (MacInnes, 1993, p. 282).
In 1989 the tenth incarnation of the Amitabha died. The Chinese made the funeral
celebrations into a grandiose event of state [!] that was broadcast
nationally on radio and television. They invited the Fourteenth Dalai Lama
to the burial which took place in Beijing,
but did not want him to visit Tibet afterwards. For this
reason the Kundun
declined. At the same time the Tibetans in exile announced that the Panchen Lama had been poisoned.
The political power play entered a spectacular new
round in the search for the eleventh incarnation. At first it seemed as if
the two parties (the Chinese and the Tibetans in exile) would cooperate.
But then there were two candidates: one proposed by the Kundun and one by Beijing. The latter
was enthroned in Tashi Lunpho.
A thoroughly power-conscious group of pro-Chinese lamas carried out the
ceremonies, whilst the claimant designated by the Dalai Lama was sent home
to his parents amid protests from the world public. At first, Dharamsala spoke of a murder, and then a kidnapping of
the boy.
All of this may be considered an expression of the
running battle between the Tibetans and the Chinese, yet even for the
Tibetans in exile it is a surprise how much worth the Chinese laid on the
magic procedure of the rebirth myth and why they elevated it to become an
affair of state, especially since the upbringing of the Dalai Lama’s
candidate would likewise have lain in their hands. They probably decided on
this course out of primarily pragmatic political considerations, but the
magic religious system possesses a dynamic of its own and can captivate
those who use it unknowingly. A Lamaization of China with
or without the Dalai Lama is certainly a historical possibility. In October
1995 for example, the young Karmapa was guest of
honor at the national day celebrations in Beijing and had talks with important
heads of the Chinese government. The national press reported in detail on
the subsequent journey through China which was organized for
the young hierarch by the state. He is said to have exclaimed, “Long live
the People’s Republic of China!”
(Tibetan Review, November 1994,
p. 9).
What a perspective would be opened for the
politics of the Kalachakra deities if they were able to anchor
themselves in China
with a combination of the Panchen and Dalai Lamas
so as to deliver the foundations for a pan-Asian ideology! At last, father
and son could be reunited, for those are the titles of the ruler from Tashilunpho (the father) and the hierarch from the Potala (the son) and how they also refer to one
another. Then one would have taken on the task of bringing the Time Tantra to the West, the other of reawakening it in its
country of origin in Central Asia. Amitabha and Avalokiteshvara,
always quarreling in the form of their mortal incarnations, the Panchen and the Dalai Lama, would now complement one
another — but this time it would not be a matter of Tibet, but China, and
then the world.
The Communist Party of China
The Communist Party of China’s official position
on the social role of religion admittedly still shows a Marxist-Leninist
influence. “Religious belief and religious sentiments, religious ceremonies
and organizations that are compatible with the corresponding beliefs and
emotions, are all products of the history of a society.
The beginnings of religious mentality reflect a
low level of production... “, it says in a government statement of
principle, and the text goes on to say that in pre-communist times religion
was used as a means “to control and still the masses” (MacInnes,
1993, p. 43). Nevertheless, religious freedom has been guaranteed since the
seventies, albeit with some restrictions. Across the whole country a
spreading religious renaissance can be observed that, although still under
state control, is in the process of building up hugely like an underground
current, and will soon surface in full power.
All religious orientations are affected by this —
Taoism, Chan Buddhism, Lamaism, Islam, and the various Christian churches. Officially , Confucianism is not considered a faith but
rather a philosophy. Since the Deng era the attacks of the Great Proletarian
Cultural Revolution upon religious representatives have been
self-critically and publicly condemned. At the moment, more out of a bad
conscience and touristic motives than from religious fervor, vast sums of
money are being expended on the restoration of the shrines destroyed.
Everyone is awaiting the great leap forwards in a
religious rebirth of the country at any moment. “China’s tussle with the Dalai
Lama seems like a sideshow compared to the Taiwan crisis” writes the
former editor of the Japan Times Weekly,
Yoichi Clark Shimatsu, “But Beijing is waging a
political contest for the hearts and minds of Asia's
Buddhists that could prove far more significant than its battle over the
future democracy in Taiwan”
(Shimatsu, HPI 009).
It may be the result of purely power political
considerations that the Chinese Communists employ Buddhist constructions to
take the wind out of the sails of the general religious renaissance in the
country via a strategy of attack, by declaring Mao Zedong to be a
Bodhisattva for example (Tibetan
Review, January 1994, p. 3). But there really are — as we were able to
be convinced by a television documentary — residents of the eastern
provinces of the extended territory who have set up likenesses of the Great
Chairman on their altars beside those of Guanyin and Avalokiteshvara,
to whom they pray for help in their need. A mythification
of Mao and his transformation into a Bodhisattva figure should become all
the easier the more time passes and the concrete historical events are
forgotten.
There are, however, several factions facing off in
the dawning struggle for Buddha’s control of China. For example, some of the
influential Japanese Buddhist sects who trace their origins to parent
monasteries in China
see the Tibetan clergy as an arch-enemy. This too has its historical
causes. In the 13th century and under the protection of the
great Mongolian rulers (of the Yuan dynasty), the lamas had the temples of
the Chinese Buddhist Lotus sect in southern China razed to the ground. In
reaction the latter organized a guerilla army of farmers and were
successful in shaking off foreign control, sending the Tibetans home, and
establishing the Ming dynasty (1368). “This tradition of religious
rebellion”, Yoichi Clark Shimatsu writes, “did
not disappear under communism. Rather, it continued under an ideological
guise. Mao Zedong's utopian vision that drove
both the Cultural Revolution and the suppression of intellectuals in
Tiananmen Square bears a striking resemblance with the populist Buddhist
policies of Emperor Zhu Yuanthang, founder of the
Ming Dynasty and himself a Lotus Sect Buddhist priest” (Shimatsu,
HPI 009).
Many Japanese Buddhists see a new “worldly” utopia
in a combination of Maoist populism, the continuation of Deng Xiaoping's
economic reforms, and the familiar values of (non-Tibetan) Buddhism. At a
meeting of the Soka Gokkai
sect it was pointed out that the first name of the Chinese Premier Li Peng was “Roc”, the name of the mythic giant bird that
protected the Buddha. Li Peng answered allegorically
that in present-day China
the Buddha “is the people and I consider myself the guardian of the people”
(Shimatsu, HPI 009). Representatives of Soka Gokkai also interpreted
the relationship between Shoko Asahara and the
Dalai Lama as a jointly planned attack on the pro-Chinese politics of the
sect.
Like the Tibetans in exile ,
the Chinese know that power lies in the hands of the elites. These will
decide which direction future developments take. It is doubtful whether the
issue of national sovereignty will play any role at all among the Tibetan
clergy should they be permitted to advance into China with the toleration and
support of the state. Since the murder of King Langdarma,
Tibetan history teaches us, the interests of monastic priests and not those
of the people are preeminent in political decisions. This was likewise true
in reverse for the Chinese Emperor. The Chinese ruling elite will in the
future also decide according to power-political criteria which religious
path they will pursue: “Beijing
clearly looks to a Buddhist revival to fill the spiritual void in the Asian
heartland so long as it does not challenge the nominally secular
authorities. Such a revival could provide the major impetus into the
Pacific century. Like all utopias, it could also be fraught with disaster”
(Shimatsu, HPI 009).
The West, which has not reflected upon the
potential for violence in Tantric/Tibetan Buddhism or rather has not even
recognized it, sees — blind as it is — a pacifist and salvational
deed by the Fourteenth Dalai Lama in the spread of Lamaism in China. The
White House Tibet expert, Melvyn Goldstein, all but demands of the Kundun that he return to Tibet. In
this he is probably voicing the unofficial opinion of the American
government: “If he [the Dalai Lama] really wants to achieve something,”
says Goldstein, “he has to stop attacking China on the international stage, he has to return and publicly accept the
sovereignty over his home country” (Spiegel
16/1998, p. 118).
Everything indicates that this will soon happen,
and indeed at first under conditions dictated by the Chinese. In his
critique of the film Kundun, the journalist Tobias Kniebe writes that, “As little real power as this man
[the Dalai Lama] may have at the moment — as a symbol he is unassailable
and inextinguishable. The history of nonviolent resistance is one of the
greatest, there is, and in it Kundun [the film] is a kind of prelude. The actual film,
which we are waiting for, may soon begin: if an
apparently impregnable, billion-strong market is infiltrated by the power
of a symbol [the Dalai Lama] whose evidence it is unable to resist for
long. If this film is ever made, it will not be shown in the cinemas, but
rather on CNN” (Süddeutsche Zeitung,
March 17, 1998). Kniebe and many others thus await
a Lamaization of the whole Chinese territory.
A wild speculation? David Germano,
Professor of Tibetan Studies in Virginia, ascertained on his travels in
Tibet that “The Chinese fascination with Tibetan Buddhism is particularly
important, and I have personally witnessed extremes of personal devotion
and financial support by Han Chinese to both monastic and lay Tibetan
religious figures [i.e., lamas] within the People's Republic of China”
(Goldstein, 1998, p. 86).
Such a perspective is expressed most clearly in a
posting to an Internet discussion forum from April 8, 1998: “"Easy, HHDL [His
Holiness the Dalai Lama]", it says, “can turn the people of Taiwan and China
[into] becoming conformists of Tibetan Buddhism. Soon or later, there will
be the Confederate
Republics of Greater
Asia. Republic
of Taiwan, People's
Republic of China,
Republic of Tibet, Mongolia Democratic Republic,
Eastern Turkestan Republic,
Inner Mongolian Republic,
Nippon,
Korea ...
all will be parts of the CROGA. Dalai Lama will be the head of the CROGA”
(Brigitte, Newsgroup 10).
But whether the Kundun returns home to the
roof of the world or not, his aggressive Kalachakra ideology is not a
topic for analysis and criticism in the West, where religion and politics
are cleanly and neatly separated from one another. The despotic idea of a
world ruler, the coming Armageddon, the world war between Buddhism and
Islam, the establishment of a monastic dictatorship, the hegemony of the
Tibetan gods over the planets, the development of a pan-Asian, Lamaist major-power politics — all visions which are
laid out in the Kundun’s
system and magically consolidated through every Kalachakra initiation — are
simply not perceived by politicians from Europe and America. They let the
wool be pulled over their eyes by the god-king’s professions of democracy
and peace. How and by what means His Holiness seeks to culturally conquer
the West is what we want to examine in the next chapter.
Footnotes:
[5] The demonstrators burnt down
a police station and a number of automobiles and shops. Between 6 and 20
Tibetans were killed when the police fired into the crowd. Some of the
policemen on duty were also Tibetan.
Next Chapter:
15. THE
BUDDHOCRATIC CONQUEST OF THE WEST
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