The Panchen Lama, Dorje Shugden, & China

One of those hats doesn't look right...

View the image on the left full-size: www.China2551.org

View the image on the right full-size: www.DorjeShugden.com

Damned in Exile

Why the Tibetan Dorje Shugden community is officially detested

(Adapted from Why Pakistan’s Ahmadi community is officially detested by Mohammed Hanif.)

When a Tibetan Buddhist monk or nun applies for a passport or identity certificate, they are asked to sign an oath that increasingly every Tibetan Buddhist anywhere in the world is asked to sign.

The oath goes like this: “I consider Dorje Shugden an impostor Deity. And also consider his followers, whether regarding him as a worldly or enlightened Protector, to be non-Buddhists.”

Like millions of other Tibetans, I have signed this oath several times without giving much thought to exactly what Dorje Shugden stands for, or what the technical difference between worldly or enlightened Protector is. I want my passport, and if I have to sign up to a fatwa to get it, so be it.

But like millions of people from my generation I also remember that when I was growing up, the now-minority Dorje Shugden sect were considered great Buddhist scholars and leaders.

Non-Buddhists

Like scores of others I had friends who were Dorje Shugden practitioners. We played soccer together, and sometimes, when our parents ordered us off to the temple, we even prayed side by side.

In Spring 2008, when more than 900 Dorje Shugden monks were expelled from their monasteries, I remembered the precise moment in 1996 when it all began to change.

There were street protests by religious parties against Dorje Shugden practitioners demanding that they should be declared non-Buddhists.

One day I saw some Dalai Lama activists standing outside a clothes merchant’s shop in our town, chanting anti-Shugden slogans and turning customers away, telling them that buying clothes from Shugdenpas was forbidden.

At the time I was learning to memorise the Buddha’s teachings from a very kind, mild-mannered teacher.

I asked him what exactly was wrong with the Shugdenpas.

He explained to me that they didn’t believe that His Holiness the Dalai Lama was the only and final authority.

I said OK, maybe that makes them infidels, but who says that infidels can’t sell cloth?

My teacher’s response was a full-handed slap, so sudden, so unexpected that it rang in my ears for days to come.

That same year the Tibetan Parliament in exile declared Dorje Shugden practitioenrs non-Buddhists.

Then in 2008 the Tibetans’ political dictator and self-appointed guardian of the faith, the Dalai Lama, began a referrendum whose oath we are all required to sign.

Because of the new laws, Dorje Shugden practitioners have been ostracized; access to various jobs, positions, schools, and monasteries in Tibetan exile became impossible without publicly renouncing Dorje Shugden.

Heretic

Over the last three decades the hatred against Shugdenpas has become so widespread that Tibetans are now embarrassed by the man who wrote the Tibetan National Anthem in 1950.

Trijang Rinpoche was the Spiritual Guide (root Guru) of the Dalai Lama, and as a faithful disciple himself, accepted Je Phabongkhapa’s teachings with great respect and appreciation.

But he was a Dorje Shugden practitioner so there is no prayer to celebrate him, no recognition of his role in setting up the Tibetan community in exile.

His name as a lineage Guru on the Lamrim lineage prayer has been erased. Even the fact that he was the Dalai Lama’s chosen root Guru has been substituted with ‘junior tutor’ in an attempt to erase our collective memory.

This hatred was evident in the reactions to the Dalai Lama’s ban on Dorje Shugden.

Declaring his Spiritual Guides “wrong,” the Dalai Lama was obsessed with making sure that Shugden Buddhists were called “spirit worshippers”.

When you refuse to call a Buddhist tradition by its proper name, you are implying that it’s not Buddhism, it’s not a religion, it’s a cult.

And all the various Tibetan Buddhists sects, whose leaders otherwise refuse to work together, are united on this.

Over the last three decades the siege has been so palpable that those Shugdenpas who couldn’t afford to emigrate have taken to hiding their identity.

If you want to destroy someone in public life it’s enough to drop a hint that they are a Shugden practitioner.

Two incidents in the past week made me realise how pathological our response was. At an inter-faith meeting to celebrate the spirit of non-sectarianism, a passer-by asked me “Are you a Shugdenpa?” My own loud and aggressive denial surprised me.

Then a Shugden friend wrote to me saying: “You know we have been living like this for decades. [Did] something like this have to happen for you to speak up?”

Tibetan Religion and Politics by Samten G. Karmay

The Tibetans prided themselves on what they believed to be a unique tradition, the “combination of religion and politics” (chosi zungdrel). The concept itself goes a long way back in Tibet’s history. However, many other countries still have similar traditions. It was only at the beginning of the 20th century that countries like France and Japan began to have the legislation for the separation of church and state that gave birth to the idea of practicing religion as a personal belief not regulated by the state. The process of secularization has been slow, but it is moving inexorably forward. This state secularism is the modern trend in many countries the world over.

It was startling to see a political meeting that took place in Dharamsala on May 3-4 2008 and broadcast on YouTube. It was attended by the heads of all the Tibetan religious sects and was presided over by HH the Dalai Lama. One of the topics of the discussion was the tulku issue, the reincarnated lamas, but the outcome of the discussion has not been reported. Not a single layman took part in the gathering not to mention any women. One wondered what happened to the famous democratization of the exiled Tibetan community in India.

The separation of church and state does not imply abandoning the practice of the established religion. Far from it, it secures freedom of religious exercise and therefore the right of personal choice whether one wishes to practice a religion or not. Furthermore it establishes the neutrality of the state as far as the religious denominations are concerned. In the case of Tibet there would be no preferential status whether it is the Bon, Nyingma, Sakya, Kagyu or Gelug traditions or even the Tibetan Moslems and Christians. What the “separation” does imply, however, is the government and religious institutions being kept independent from one and another and not combined as in the Tibetan political tradition.

A secular state is therefore neutral when it deals with religion by not supporting or opposing any particular sect nor does it give any preferential treatment for a citizen who belongs to a particular religion.

Buddhism as a state religion

Buddhism became the state religion of Tibet in the reign of the emperor Tri Song Detsen (742-797) and it remained so till the end of the Pugyal Dynasty in 941 AD. During the imperial period the emperors were the supreme heads of the state and the emperors were entirely laymen. The fact that Buddhism was the state religion did not affect the personal choice of faith among its members and in the country. However, the imperial government did subsidize Buddhist establishments such as building temples and contributing to their maintenance and this was considered to be meritorious work.

There were other periods during which time a lay government was in power in Tibet, for example, during the Tsang Desi’s regime (c.1600-1642) which was most remarkable in its attempt to revive the national glory of the lay government of the imperial period.

The beginning of theocracy

However, in 1642 the Tsang Desi’s government was toppled by the combined forces of Tibetans and Mongols at the instigation of the Gelug sect which effectively empowered the Fifth Dalai Lama (1617-1685), as the head of state. He had been, until 1642, merely the abbot of Drepung Monastery. A new era of theocracy was ushered in with the total supremacy of the clergy and the subordination of laymen to it. At the time of the Sakya and Pakmotu administrations from the 13th to the 15th centuries there were of course elements of theocratic development, but from 1642 the Ganden Potrang, the official seat of the government in Drepung Monastery, came to symbolize the supreme power in both the theory and practice of a theocratic government. This was indeed a political triumph that Buddhism had never known in its history in Tibet.

The term “theocracy” is normally defined as a form of government in which a ‘god’ or ‘deity’ is recognized as the supreme ruler. In Tibet’s case the Dalai Lamas are considered as the manifestation of the Buddhist deity of compassion. In this theocratic system the head of the state was not only the political leader of the people, but also their spiritual master. In other words, the whole population was subjected and put in the position of spiritual disciple to the master. Within the context of this essentially religious bond no devotee would ever dream of opposing the view of the master, because that would be tantamount to breaking the sacred relationship between the master and the disciple. How does this fit with the discussion of democracy among the Tibetans in exile for whom HH the Dalai Lama is the political leader, but who nonetheless bestows on them the Kalachakra initiation?

Since the head of the state was a “monk-king” (domtsun gyalpo) the entire manner of raising children was immersed in religious education from a very young age without it ever being realized where this was going to lead. In such a system there was no personal choice of the religion that an individual wished to practice. One became aware of what one was subjected to only when one reached a mature age. In other words the faith was simply imposed by the state. The idea of the right of personal choice of one’s own faith was therefore totally unknown and in modern terms denied. Important and even enlightening as this religious education might be, it had the undesirable effect of barring the entire population from contact with any kind of progressive or modern education over the last three hundred and sixty years. It is no wonder that the outspoken French socialist Minister of Culture, Claude Allègre, once remarked that he had never come across a Tibetan who was a biologist, archeologist, mathematician or physicist.

An incarnate Lama as ruler

The head of the state in Tibet, however, was never meant to be a tulku, a reincarnate lama. This status was inherited incidentally through the Fifth Dalai Lama when he was ushered in as the leader of the country. The irony is that not only he himself was a reincarnate lama, but he also embarked on creating others, for example, the Panchen Lama Lobzang Yeshe (1663-1737), who was recognized as the tulku of Panchen Lama Lobzang Chogyen (1567-1662), in 1667, by the Fifth Dalai Lama. This initiated the rapid increase of the number of tulkus especially in the Gelug sect. Perhaps one does not need to raise the question as to whether this tulku system ever served the national interest of Tibet at all. It is high time for the Tibetans to learn lessons from the checkered history of the tulku system that has caused so much political instability and disunity for Tibet.

In the 20th century alone, national unity completely broke down when one lama was set against the other as the pawns of great powers such as the Manchus, British India, the Russian Empire, the Guomintang government and now the Communist Party of China. In general, throughout the history of Tibet the tulku institution has invariably been the cause of schism, political intrigue and sectarian squabbles. Because of the tulku tradition we have now two Panchen Lamas and two Karmapas. Are we going to have two Dalai Lamas?

Recently the Religious Affairs Department of the Chinese government implemented a new law called “Order no. 5”, containing 14 articles on “Management Measures for the Reincarnation of ‘Living Buddhas’ in Tibetan Buddhism”. The Chinese government’s strict control over tulku recognition further proves how politically vulnerable this system is and to what extent the tulku tradition can be exploited for political ends by an occupying power against the interests of the Tibetan people.

HH the 14th Dalai Lama has already announced that he will have no political role if “genuine autonomy” is established in Tibet. However, I believe that the Dalai Lama institution should be maintained if the majority of the Tibetan people agree upon it. Thus, in a future constitution this one should be the only incarnation in the country, and without any political prerogative. Ganden Monastery would be an ideal residence for the future Dalai Lamas if they wish to be a real “simple monk”.

In the interview given to Euronews (August 11, 2008) HH the 14th Dalai Lama stated, I quote: “The Dalai Lama’s rule is now outdated.” If this is indeed the case, and I believe it to be so. it is desirable for the Tibetan people start to planning for the future with his help. He is the only one who has such long term world-wide experience and whose authority is unrivaled amongst Tibetan leaders. A decisive action is needed to be taken and very urgently. If he wishes he can assist the Tibetans in sorting out the theocratic conundrum in order to finally leave an unambiguous political legacy in the form of a total separation of religion and politics.

Unless and until the Tibetan people come to comprehend the need for the separation of religion and state they will never be able to create a healthy and unified community under a truly democratically elected leader.

They do not need to look far a field for a good example of this. In 2008 Bhutan, the Himalayan kingdom, very successfully introduced a parliamentary democratic system. Although the Kagyu sect is the official religion of state as represented by the Zhung Datsang, this was left aside and did not play any role in the election. Its new constitution states “It shall be the responsibility of religious institutions and personalities to promote the spiritual heritage of the country while also ensuring that religion remains separate from politics in Bhutan.” (article 3.3, www.judiciary.gov.bt)

Of course it appears inconceivable or even sacrilegious to break the taboo on the separation of religion and state for the Tibetans, but we can no longer hide our heads in the sand.

Secularism, sectarianism

In an interview given in Tokyo, April 2008, HH the Dalai Lama stated that he favoured in fact “secularism”. The reason he gave was that “secularism” has no room for “sectarianism”. Indeed Tibetan Buddhism has often been plagued by sectarian strife and this is still continuing in spite of HH the Dalai Lama’s strenuous efforts to discourage and condemn it. It is precisely because of sectarianism that he has himself abandoned the cult of the deity Shugden, as well as forbidding it in all religious institutions in the exiled community. The main reason for forsaking this cult is that it engenders a sense of the superiority on the part of the Geluk clergy and it acts as an anathema to the other sects. It is not only a question of spirit-worship as people tend to claim when explaining why the cult has been forbidden.

A secularization of the exiled community should contribute towards solving the unending sectarian problems and lead to true unity amongst the Tibetan people, without any further religious interference in the political domain.

The writer is Director of Research emeritus, National Centre of Scientific Research (CNRS), Paris

Anything to Buy Time? The 1959 Correspondence between the Dalai Lama and General Tan Kuan-san

[The following is what the Dalai Lama says in his 1962 and 1990 autobiographies to explain the correspondence between himself and General Tan in the days leading up to his self-exile. General Tan was the acting representative of the Central People’s Government in Tibet and the political commissar of the Tibet Military Area Command. This is then followed by some analysis of relevant points from A. Tom Grunfeld’s The Making of Modern Tibet. My own comments appear italicized in brackets.]

The general’s letters to me were written in friendly terms which would have seemed more sincere if I had not already been told of his rage by my ministers. He said he was concerned for my safety and invited me to take refuge in his camp.

I replied to all his letters to gain time—time for anger to cool on both sides, and time for me to urge moderation of the Lhasan people. And to this end I thought it would be foolish to argue with the general, or to point out that Chinese protection from my own people was the very last thing I needed. On the contrary, I decided to reply in a way which I hoped would calm him down. And this I could only do by seeming to accept his sympathy and welcome his advice. In my first letter I told him how embarrassed I had been at my people’s action in preventing me from coming to his entertainment. In the second letter, I told him I had given orders that the people surrounding the Norbulingka should disperse, and I concurred with his point of view that these people, under the pretext of protecting me, were only working to undermine the relations between the Chinese and our government. And in the third letter, I also added that I must separate the people who supported new ideas and those who opposed them before I could visit his headquarters.

Even if I had thought at the time that these letters would be quoted against me later, I would still have written them, because my most urgent moral duty at that moment was to prevent a totally disastrous clash between my unarmed people and the Chinese army.

And perhaps I may repeat once more that I could not approve of violence, and so I could not approve of the violent attitude the people of Lhasa were showing. I could and do appreciate the affection for me, as the symbol of Tibet, an attitude which was the immediate cause of the anger they were showing against the Chinese on that fateful day. I could not blame them for the anxiety for my safety, because the Dalai Lama represented most of what they lived and worked for. But I was certain that what they were doing could only lead to disaster if they continued, and as Head of State I had to try by every means to curb their feelings and stop them bringing about their own destruction under the weight of the Chinese army. So the advice I gave them was given with the fullest sincerity, and although my letters to the Chinese general were written to disguise my true intentions, I felt and still feel that they were justified. (Dalai Lama, My Land and My People, pp. 186-188)

Tuesday, March 10th, 1959

General Tan’s first letter to the Dalai Lama:

Respected Dalai Lama:

It is very good indeed that you wanted to come to the Military Area Command [for the theatrical performance]. You are heartily welcome. Since you have been put into very great difficulties due to the intrigues and provocations of the reactionaries, it may be advisable that you do not come for the time being.

Salutations and best regards,

Tan Kuan-san

A letter arrived from General Tan Kuan-sen suggesting, in suspiciously moderate tones, that I move to his headquarters for my own safety. I was amazed at his effrontery. There was no question of doing any such thing. However, in order to buy time, I wrote him a conciliatory reply. (Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile, p. 134)

[I read no effrontery in the general’s letter; rather, as indicated in the Dalai Lama’s reply below, the general seemed rather undisturbed by the incident and was willing to wait it out. Also, there was no suggestion at this point that the Dalai Lama move to the PLA headquarters.]

Wednesday, March 11th, 1959

The Dalai Lama’s reponse to General Tan’s first letter:

Dear Comrade, Political Commissar Tan:

I decided to go to the Military Area Command to see the theatrical performance yesterday, but I was unable to do so, owing to obstruction by the people, both religious and secular, who were instigated by a few evil elements and who did not know the facts.

This has put me to indescribable shame. I am greatly upset and worried and at a loss as to what to do. When I received your letter (this refers to the letter sent by General Tan Kuan-san to the Dalai Lama on the 10th), I was immediately overjoyed because you were not disturbed by the trouble.

Reactionary, evil elements are carrying out activities endangering me under the pretext of protecting my safety. I am taking measures to calm things clown. In a few days when the situation becomes stable, l will certainly meet you. If you have any internal directives for me, please tell me frankly through this messenger (this refers to Ngapo Ngawang Jigme).

Dalai Lama
written by my own hand

[Indeed, rather than “buying time,” the Dalai Lama’s reply above actually adds fuel to the fire, saying that the rebels’ shameless activities are greatly upsetting him, even endangering his life!]

General Tan’s second letter to the Dalai Lama:

The reactionaries are now audacious enough to have openly and arrogantly carried out military provocations. They have erected fortifications and set up a large number of machine guns and armed reactionaries along the national defence highway (the high way north of Norbulinka), thereby seriously disrupting the security of the national defence communications.

Many times in the past, we have told Kasha [the governing council of Tibet] that the People’s Liberation Army is duty-bound to defend the country and to protect the security of communication lines related to national defence, and therefore it certainly cannot remain indifferent to this serious act of military provocation.

Therefore, the Tibet Military Area Command has sent letters to Surkong, Neusha, Shasu and Pala asking them to tell the reactionaries to remove all the fortifications they have established and withdraw from the highway immediately.

Otherwise, they themselves will have to bear the responsibility for all the serious consequences. I want to inform you of this. Please let me know what your views are at your earliest convenience.

Salutations and best regards,
Tan Kuan-san

In his other letter, the General ordered the ministers to instruct the crowd to take down the barricades that had been erected on the road outside Lhasa that led to China. Unfortunately, this had a calamitous effect. It seemed to the crowd leaders that, by saying they wanted these removed, the Chinese were making a clear indication that they planned to bring in reinforcements which would be used to attack the Dalai Lama. They refused.

On hearing this, I decided that I must speak to these men myself. I did so, explaining that there was a serious danger that Chinese troops would use force to dispel the crowd if people did not leave very soon. Evidently my entreaty was partially successful, as afterward they announced that they would move to Shol, the village at the foot of the Potala, where many angry demonstrations were subsequently held. But the majority of the people outside the Norbulingka remained.

It was at this point that I consulted the Nechung oracle, which was hurriedly summoned. Should I stay or should I try to escape? What was I to do? The oracle made it clear that I should stay and keep open the dialogue with the Chinese. For once, I was unsure of whether this really was the best course of action. I was reminded of Lukhangwa’s remark about the gods lying when they too become desperate. So I spent the afternoon performing Mo, another form of divination. The result was identical. (Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile, pp. 134-135)

Thursday, March 12th, 1959

The Dalai Lama’s response to General Tan’s second letter:

Dear Comrade, Political Commissar Tan:

I suppose you have received my letter of yesterday (referring to March 11) forwarded to you by Ngapo. I have received the letter you sent me this morning. The unlawful actions of the reactionary clique break my heart. Yesterday I told Kasha to order the immediate dissolution of the illegal people’s conference and the immediate withdrawal of the reactionaries who arrogantly moved into Lo-pu-lin-k’a [Norbulinka] under the pretext of protecting me.

As to the incidents of yesterday and the day before, which were created under the pretext of protecting my safety, and have seriously estranged relations between the Central Government and the Local Government, I am making every possible effort to deal with them. At 8:30 Peking time this morning a few Tibetan army men suddenly fired several shots near the Tsinghai-Tibet Highway. Fortunately no serious disturbances occurred.

As to the questions mentioned in your letter (referring to the letter of the 11th sent by General Tan Kuan-san to the Dalai Lama), I am planning to persuade my few subordinates and give them instructions. Please tell me frankly any instructions you have for me.

Dalai

Sunday, March 15th, 1959

General Tan’s third letter to the Dalai Lama:

Respected Dalai Lama:

I have the honour to acknowledge receipt of your two letters dated March 11 and March 12. The traitorous activities of the reactionary clique of the upper strata in Tibet have grown into intolerable proportions. These individuals, in collusion with foreigners, have engaged in reactionary, traitorous activities for quite some time. The Central People’s Government has long adopted an attitude of magnanimity and enjoined the Local Government of Tibet to deal with them seriously, but the Local Government of Tibet has all along adopted an attitude of feigning compliance while actually helping them with their activities, with the result that things have now come to such a grave impasse.

The Central People’s Government still hopes that the Local Government of Tibet will change its erroneous attitude and immediately assume responsibility for putting down the rebellion and mete out severe punishment to the traitors; Otherwise the Central People’s Government will have to act itself to safeguard the solidarity and unification of the motherland.

In your letter, you said; “As to the incidents which were created under the pretext of protecting my safety and have seriously estranged relations between the Central Government and the Local Government, I am making every possible effort to deal with them.”

We warmly welcome this correct attitude on your part. We are very much concerned about your present position and safety. If you think it necessary and possible to extricate yourself from the present dangerous position of being abducted by the traitors, we cordially welcome you and your entourage to come and stay for a brief period in the Military Area Command. We are willing to assume full responsibility for your safety. As to what is the best course to follow, this is entirely up to you to decide.

In addition, l have much pleasure in informing you that the second National People’s Congress has decided to open its first session on April 17.

Salutations and my best regards,

Tan Kuan-san

Monday, March 16th, 1959

The next days passed in a dizzying, frightening blur. I began to receive reports of Chinese military build-up and the mood of the crowd grew almost hysterical. I consulted the oracle a second time, but his advice was the same as before. Then, on the 16th, I received a third and final letter from the General, together with an enclosure from Ngabo. General Tan’s letter was much along the lines of his last two. Ngabo’s, on the other hand, made clear what I and everyone else had dimly concluded, namely that the Chinese were planning to attack the crowd and shell the Norbulingka. He wanted me to indicate on a map where I would be—so that the artillerymen could be briefed to aim off whichever building I marked. It was a horrifying moment as the truth sank in. Not only was my own life in danger, but the lives of thousands upon thousands of my people now seemed certain to be lost. If only they could be persuaded to go away, to return to their homes. Surely they could see that they had demonstrated to the Chinese the strength of their feelings? But it was no use. They were in such a pitch of fury against these unwelcome foreigners with their brutal methods that nothing could move them. They would stay till the end and die keeping guard over their Precious Protector.

Reluctantly, I set about replying to Ngabo and General Tan, saying something along the lines that I was dismayed by the disgraceful behaviour of reactionary elements amongst the population of Lhasa. I assured them that I still thought it a good idea that I should move to the sanctuary of the Chinese headquarters, but that it was very difficult just at the moment; and that I hoped they too would have the patience to sit out the disturbances. Anything to buy time! After all, the crowd could not stay put indefinitely. I took care not to say where I was in the hope that this lack of knowledge would cause uncertainty and delay. (Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile, pp. 135-136)

The Dalai Lama’s response to General Tan’s third letter:

Dear Comrade, Political Commissar Tan:

Your letter dated the 15th has just been received at three o’ clock. I am very glad that you are so concerned about my safety and hereby express my thanks.

The day before yesterday, the fifth day of the second month according to the Tibetan Calendar (March 14, 1959) I made a speech to more than 70 representatives of the government officials instructing them from various aspects, calling on them to consider seriously present and long-term interests and to calm down, or my life would be in danger.

After these severe reproaches the conditions took a light turn for the better. Though the conditions here and outside are still very difficult to deal with at present, I am trying skillfully to make a demarcation line between the progressive people and those opposing the revolution among the government officials.

A few days from now, when there are enough forces that I can trust, I shall make my way to the Military Area Command secretly. When that time comes, I shall first send you a letter. I request you to adopt reliable measures. What are your views? Please write often.

Dalai

Tuesday, March 17th, 1959

Having dispatched my replies, I was at a loss as to what to do next. The following day, I again sought the counsel of the oracle. To my astonishment, he shouted, ‘Go! Go! Tonight!’ The medium, still in his trance, then staggered forward and, snatching up some paper and a pen, wrote down, quite clearly and explicitly, the route that I should take out of the Norbulingka, down to the last Tibetan town on the Indian border. His directions were not what might have been expected. That done, the medium, and young monk named Lobsang Jigme*, collapsed in a faint, signifying that Dorje Drakden had left his body. Just then, as if to reinforce the oracle’s instructions, two mortar shells exploded in the marsh outside the northern gate of the Jewel Park.

Looking back on this event at a distance of more than thirty-one years, I am certain that Dorje Drakden had known all along that I must leave Lhasa on the 17th, but he did not say so for fear of word getting out. If no plans were made, nobody would find out about them.

I did not begin preparations for my escape immediately, however. First I wanted to confirm the oracle’s decision, which I did by performing Mo [divination] once more. The answer agreed with the oracle, even though the odds against making a successful break seemed terrifyingly high. Not only was the crowd refusing to let anyone into or out of the palace grounds without first searching and interrogating them, but also Ngabo’s letter made it clear that the Chinese had already considered the possibility that I might try to escape. They must have taken precautions. Yet the supernatural counsels fitted in with my own reasoning: I was convinced that leaving was the only thing I could do to make the crowd disperse. If I was no longer inside, there could be no reason for people to remain. I therefore decided to accept the advice. (Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile, p. 136)

[* In the book In Exile from the Land of Snows (pp. 216-217), it is reported that Lobsang Jimge, the medium for the Nechung spirit, did not know about the Dalai Lama’s escape from Lhasa until Friday, March 20th.]

Analysis from The Making of Modern Tibet:

• China concedes that the theatrical performance was set for 10 March, but emphatically denies that the Dalai Lama was coerced in any way to set that date. Beijing has maintained, in fact, that it was the Dalai Lama who set the date and, indeed, had done so one month earlier. For years this claim was roundly ridiculed as “communist lies and propaganda” until Dawa Norbu publically acknowledged that a former Tibetan official had confided in him that the Chinese account was correct. When confronted with this contradiction in 1981 the Dalai Lama admitted that his original story was incorrect, agreeing that he had selected the date several weeks prior to the event. (Grunfeld, rev. ed., p. 137)
• On the seventeenth [of March] some Tibetan Cabinet ministers sent a letter to Ngabo, requesting his aid in helping to move the Dalai Lama to the PLA camp. Ngabo acknowledged receipt of the letter and promised assistance. Then, suddenly, at 4:00 P.M., the Dalai Lama claims to have heard two mortar shells fired from the direction of the military camp, only to splash harmlessly into a marsh in the palace compound. A state of near panic ensued, since it was assumed—although never verified—that the Chinese, finally having come to the end of their patience, had decided to attack. The Dalai Lama recalled that at this point the hasty decision was made that he would have to flee. (Grunfeld, p. 136)
• On 2 March 1959—only days before the revolt broke out in Lhasa—the Calcutta paper the Statesman published a remarkable article by an unnamed author [Our Special Correspondent, “The Pattern of Revolt in Tibet,” The Statesman, 2 March 1959, p. 6. See Requiem for Tibet, pp. 164-175]. This author, proving to have exceptional sources and insight, uncannily predicted the possible course of events in Tibet in coming days. He wrote that the Khampas and refugees, alike, in Lhasa would agree that the Chinese soldiers presented little threat to the Tibetans in the holy city. In spite of this, the rebels would begin cutting off all the roads leading into the city in the event that fighting broke out. Moreover, the author surmised, the Dalai Lama would be unwilling to leave Lhasa; in order to convince him to leave, the Khampas would have to create some disturbance. (Grunfled, pp. 142-143)
• From the very beginning, the Dalai Lama’s private and public communication with Han officials remained friendly and supportive… The Dalai Lama has never repudiated the fact that he was on friendly terms with the Han for almost a decade, but now argues that his conciliatory attitudes were solely meant to avoid an outbreak of violence, playing for time in the hope that moderate solutions could be found. China cannot be blamed for thinking this explanation too convenient and too much the beneficiary of hindsight. Can Chinese officials be blamed for believing the Dalai Lama was forced to leave Tibet against his will, or that the Tezpur statement was not his own? All the evidence supported those points of view. The disbelief with which China’s version of events was received in the West only reinforced China’s xenophobia and distrust of the world’s media. (Grunfeld, pp. 141-142)
• While the notion that the Dalai Lama had been abducted was considered unworthy of serious attention [by the Western and Indian press corps], so were the Dalai-Tan letters. Both Nehru and Time assured their respective audiences that the letters could not be anything but the cleverest of forgeries. This rush to judgement caused considerable embarrasment when China published photocopies of the letters, half of them in the Dalai Lama’s handwriting, whereupon the cleric was obliged to verify their authenticity. (Grunfeld, p. 144)
• The most telling example of the lack of objectivity on the part of the [Legal Inquiry Committee (LIC) established by the CIA-funded International Commission of Jurists (ICJ)] is its treatment of sterilizations. The LIC quotes the Dalai Lama as stating that sterilization began in 1957 and was carried out on a “large scale”; “two or three villages were completely sterilized.” The Tibetan leader went on to claim that “the Communist Chinese adopted these measures under the pretext of preventing certain epidemic diseases. They administered certain injections to men and women in order to make them impotent. They also forced upon them treatments to make the male and female reproductive organs functionless.” In this instance the committee made its charge on the basis of a single complaint: “expert medical evidence on the details given is that the treatment described is not in accordance with any known method of sterilization. Searching clinical investigations of Tibetans who claimed to have been sterilized produced no proof that this had been done.” The Dalai Lama’s promises to produce evidence to back up these charges never materialized. That did not prevent widespread publicity, as though the allegation had been irrefutably documented. In the years following the publication of the LIC’s report, the Dalai Lama, Trikamdas, and the ICJ all claimed to have found proof of sterilization; yet they failed to produce a single person who could be clinically examined to verify these claims. One must keep in mind that impotency is a frequent consequence of the ravages of venereal disease, which was rampant throughout Tibet. (Grunfeld, pp. 148-149)
• In trying to sum up the events of the 1950s, the emerging evidence tends to substantiate China’s view of events. The Dalai Lama’s oft-stated view that China’s “colonial” rule was so oppressive and murderous that the Tibetan people felt compelled to rise in one mighty swoop to cut their chains was not quite accurate. However, neither was China’s claims of absolute benevolence, harmony, and freedom from feudal oppression (“a joyous liberation was stirring the ends of the land”). Perhaps it can be said that when events were depicted for public consumption, China appears to have fabricated the least. (Grunfeld, p. 149)

The Seventeen-Point Agreement

In September 1950, a Tibetan mission to Delhi met with the Chinese ambassador there to begin negotiations. The Chinese position was characterized by three points, the first of which stated that “Tibet must accept that it is part of China.” A month later, having already missed a negotiation deadline and thereby prompting a Chinese incursion into Tibet, Lhasa finally responded to the delegation’s request for instructions, who were told: “Regarding Point One—that Tibet is part of China—If you have to accept this it is permissible if you are able to guarantee that the Dalai Lama’s name and authority will remain intact and the Tibetan Government will continue to function like it is now making decisions and acting independently.” However, two days later an emergency communiqué from Lhasa countermanded this initial instruction:

Regarding the reply to the Chinese Three Points, we have had meetings between the Regent and Kashag and also discussed this with the National Assembly and have communicated our decisions to you which we hope you have received. However, with regard to Point One regarding Tibet’s acceptance of being a part of China, the Dalai Lama ordered that a lottery divination should be done to determine whether this will cause any harm to Tibet in the future. Consequently, we did such a lottery-divination in Norbulinga in the chapel of Gombo where we invited both the deities Gombo and Lhamo together when we rolled the lottery. The lottery answered that if you accept that Tibet is a part of China then this will be harmful for Tibet. Therefore, we have to rely on this answer so do not accept any of the three Chinese points. However, you should all leave [Delhi] for Peking by the 26th of October.

The following month, the 16-year-old Dalai Lama assumed temporal power over Tibet, two years earlier than normal. About this, the Dalai Lama wrote:

The long years of Regency after the death of each Dalai Lama were an inevitable weakness in our system of government. During my own minority, there had been dissensions between separate factions in our government, and the administration of the country had deteriorated. We had reached a state in which most people were anxious to avoid responsibility, rather than accept it. Yet now, under the threat of invasion, we were more in need of unity than ever before, and I, as Dalai Lama, was the only person whom everybody in the country would unanimously follow. (Dalai Lama, My Land and My People, p. 83)

Less than a year later, the young Dalai Lama sent a telegram to Mao Zedong officially confirming the Seventeen-Point Agreement, formally making Tibet part of the People’s Republic of China. Indeed, it could be argued that being able to maintain the status quo of Tibet’s theocratic system was ultimately the deciding factor leading to the ratification of the agreement—freely handing over Tibet’s independence to China being a small price to pay as long as the Dalai Lama and the abbots could remain in their positions of power and influence (see Grunfeld, p. 110). This marks just the beginning of what A Great Deception refers to when, once the Dalai Lama had arrived in exile in India, he promised to lead his people back to a free and independent Tibet: “Basically, he needed to undo all that his lama policies had created!” (p. 159)

The following is how the Dalai Lama says in his 1962 and 1990 autobiographies that these events unfolded during those 12 months, interspersed with contradicting accounts quoted from Melvyn C. Goldstein’s A History of Modern Tibet (Vol 1., 1913-1951) and A. Tom Grunfeld’s The Making of Modern Tibet (rev. ed.):

Ngabo suggested that we had no alternative but to negotiate. If it was agreeable to the Tibetan Government, and if we would send some assistants, he proposed to go in person and try to open a dialogue with the Chinese in Peking. I contacted Lobsang Tashi and Lukhangwa in Lhasa to find out their opinion. They replied that they felt such negotiations should take place in Lhasa, but since the situation was desperate, they would have to agree to Peking as the venue. Because he had shown no hesitation in offering himself for the task, I concluded that Ngabo, whom I knew to be a very decisive administrator, should go to the Chinese capital. Accordingly, I sent two officials from Dromo and two from Lhasa to accompany him. I hoped that he could make it clear to the Chinese leadership that Tibet did not require ‘liberation’, just continued peaceful relations with our great neighbour. (Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile, p. 62)

The only thing we could do was pursue our negotiations as best we could. We decided to give Ngabo the authority he had requested. One of the two officials he had sent to Lhasa took a message from myself and my Cabinet, in which we told Ngabo he should open negotiations on the firm condition that the Chinese armies would not advance any further into Tibet. We had understood that the negotiations would be held either in Lhasa or in Chamdo, where the Chinese armies were stationed, but the Chinese ambassador in India proposed that our delegation should go to Peking. I appointed four more officials as assistants to Ngabo, and they all arrived in Peking at the beginning of 1951. It was not until they returned to Lhasa, long afterwards, that we heard exactly what had happened to them. (Dalai Lama, My Land and My People, p. 87)

The delegation was sent to Beijing because the Kashag had turned down the opportunity to negotiate in Lhasa, which the Chinese had originally agreed to. (Grunfeld, p. 113)

Before leaving for Yatung, the Kasgha appointed two officials, Sambo and Thubten Lengmon, to join Ngabo in Chamdo and assist him in negotiating with the Chinese. Sambo recalled: “… The Kashag also gave us a note to take to Ngabo that contained five points. It was not sealed but, rather, rolled up so we could read it. I looked at it and at once realized that according to it no peaceful negotiations were possible…. The points were more like answers [to previous Chinese Communist claims in broadcasts] than negotiating points and none of these was compromisable.” … Ngabo asked Sambo and Thubten Lengmon for the orders they had brought from the government and he took those to his room to read. After awhile Ngabo came rushing back to where Sambo was staying and said, “These five points are useless. Don’t you have any other verbal instructions?” When he heard that there were none, he said, “What are we supposed to do now? How do they expect us to negotiate with such points?” (Goldstein, pp. 743, 744, 745-746)

According to the report which they submitted then, the Chinese minister Chou En-lai had invited them all to a party when they arrived, and formally introduced them to the Chinese representatives. But as soon as the first meeting began, the chief Chinese representative produced a draft agreement containing ten articles ready-made. This was discussed for several days. Our delegation argued that Tibet was an independent state, and produced all the evidence to support their argument, but the Chinese would not accept it. Ultimately, the Chinese drafted a revised document, with seventeen articles. This was presented as an ultimatum. Our delegates were not allowed to make any alterations or suggestions. They were insulted and abused and threatened with personal violence, and with further military actions against the people of Tibet, and they were not allowed to refer to me or my government for further instructions. (Dalai Lama, My Land and My People, p. 87)

Li Wi-han opened the meeting by saying that they were all there to discuss issues of great importance and should first decide on a procedure. He asked if Ngabo had prepared a position statement. When Ngabo replied that he had not, Li said that it would be better to start from a written agenda and asked if Ngabo would let him draw one up and present it on the following day. Ngabo agreed, and the meeting broke up. On the thirtieth, Li brought a statement containing the same ten points that the Chinese had broadcast and posted on the walls in Chamdo and Kham. It included such statements as “The people should return to the big motherland,” along with guarantees of religious freedom. The Chinese were very polite and asked the Tibetans to read it over carefully. Li said, “If you accept them all, that is good; but if not, we will reconsider and discuss them. And in any case, we can both add more points.” There was a long silence as the Tibetans read the points. When none of Tibetans ventured to speak, Li suggested that they adjourn. Thus ended the second day of negotiations. (Goldstein, p. 761)

This draft agreement was based on the assumption that Tibet was part of China. That was simply untrue, and it could not possibly have been accepted by our delegation without reference to me and my government, except under duress. But Ngabo had been a prisoner of the Chinese for a long time, and the other delegates were also virtual prisoners. At last, isolated from any advice, they yielded to compulsion and signed the document. (Dalai Lama, My Land and My People, p. 88)

The delegation from Yatung brought a ten-point written statement that was the basis of the Tibetan position. They were instructed to use their judgement, but were to accept the status of Tibet as a part of China only in a token sense. They were instructed to establish a wireless link between Peking and Yatung so that other important issues could be discussed. They were clearly not authorized to make major decisions on their own. The Yatung delegation also brought Ngabo discouraging news about the status of outside assistance, including a report on a recent meeting with Nehru. They had been instructed to stop in Delhi and ask Nehru’s advice and help in the negotiations, and in particular to request him to pledge India’s participation in any Sino-Tibetan agreement as a guarantor. Ignoring this request, Nehru advised them to admit that Tibet was a part of China, since it was seen as such in the eyes of the world. He also told them they would probably have to agree to Chinese control over Tibet’s foreign relations, although he strongly urged them not to permit Chinese troops to be stationed in Tibet. With this in mind, Ngabo and the others examined the ten-point statement. They felt that although it was a major improvement over the five-point statement brought earlier from Lhasa, it was still unrealistic and would only poison the negotiating atmosphere. Ngabo suggested that certain points should be kept in mind during the upcoming talks, but that the statement should not be presented to the Chinese. Ngabo also believed that they should not refer important issues back to Yatung but should take responsibility upon themselves. He argued persuasively that the abbots and other conservatives in the assembly had no idea of the modern world and the Chinese Communists; they would refuse to accept the wording and terms the Chinese were going to present and would insist on talking about the patron-priest relationship and independence. He feared it would take weeks or months to make decisions if the National Assembly had to discuss each issue and that the Chinese would lose patience and renew their invasion of Tibet. However, if the negotiators assumed the responsibility, Ngabo said, an agreement could be reached quickly and in a spirit of friendship. He also pointed out that if the Dalai Lama and his government found this agreement unacceptable, they could later repudiate it on the grounds that the delegation did not have complete authority. As the leader of the delegation, Ngabo said, he would take full responsibility for this action and would accept any later punishment if the Tibetan government ultimately received outside assistance and decided to fight against the Chinese. The four other delegates agreed. (Goldstein, pp. 759-760)

The delegation in Beijing cabled the Kashag that it would be impossible to prevent Chinese troops from entering Lhasa. The Kashag replied that, in that case, they were authorized to agree to have the Tibetan army incorporated into the Chinese army and to allow the former to be in charge of defense. The delegation head, Ngabo, believed that now that the Kashag had changed its mind on the single item he was not originally authorized to negotiate, he no longer had to consult with them on every point. (Grunfeld, p. 113)

They still refused to affix the seals which were needed to validate it. But the Chinese forged duplicate Tibetan seals in Peking, and forced our delegation to seal the document with them. (Dalai Lama, My Land and My People, p. 88)

What was most alarming, however, was that Ngabo had not been empowered to sign anything on my behalf, only to negotiate. I had kept the seals of state with me at Dromo to ensure that he could not. So he must have been coerced. But it was several more months before I heard the whole story. (Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile, p. 64)

At the very beginning of the talks the Chinese had specifically asked Ngabo whether he had the authority to conclude and sign an agreement, and Ngabo told them he did. The Chinese then asked him whether he had the authority to write “with all the power and authority represented by Ngabo Ngawang Jigme.” Ngabo said that he did. Again, at the end of the discussions, the Chinese asked Ngabo whether he was ready to sign, and he replied that he was… After Ngabo and the others agreed to these seventeen points, the Chinese asked them whether they had brought seals to affix to the final document. Although Ngabo had the seal of the governor-general of Kham, he and the others said they had no seals. The Chinese therefore made new seals for each delegate that included only the delegate’s proper name. These were used in the final signing. (Goldstein, pp. 769-770)

When the negotiations ended, Ngabo told the Chinese he had the authority to sign but did not have his official seals. The Chinese asked if their duplicates would be acceptable, and the Tibetans agreed to that arrangement. (Grunfeld, p. 113)

Neither I nor my government were told that an agreement had been signed. We first came to know of it from a broadcast which Ngabo made on Peking Radio. It was a terrible shock when we heard the terms of it. We were appalled at the mixture of Communist clichés, vainglorious assertions which were completely false, and bold statements which were only partly true. And the terms were far worse and more oppressive than anything we had imagined. (Dalai Lama, My Land and My People, p. 88)

[A]ll we had to go on was the radio broadcast (repeated several times), together with a number of self-congratulatory sermons about the joys of Communism, the glory of Chairman Mao, the wonders of the People’s Republic of China and all the good things that the Tibetan people could look forward to now that our destinies were united. It was quite silly. (Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile, p. 64)

In the Seventeen-Point Agreement Tibet acknowledged Chinese sovereignty for the first time in its history, yet the Tibetan delegation genuine felt they had done the best they could. If the Chinese adhered strictly to the terms of the new agreement, Tibet would continue to have the freedom to preserve its own religion and culture; the Dalai Lama and other officials would continue in office; and the system of government would be maintained… But since Ngabo did not have the authority to sign the agreement on behalf of Tibet, all China’s gains depended on the reactions of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan government. The Chinese could insure that Ngabo remained on Chinese and Tibetan territory, but they could not control the course of action of the Dalai Lama and his government. (Goldstein, p. 772)

Soon after the agreement was signed, our delegation sent a telegram to tell me that the Chinese government had appointed a general called Chang Chin-wu as their representative in Lhasa. He was coming via India, instead of the long overland route through eastern Tibet. Yatung, where I was staying, was just inside the Tibetan border on the main route from India to Lhasa, and so it was clear that I would have to meet him as soon as he set foot in our country. (Dalai Lama, p. 89)

The Dalai Lama told Chang that he would reply regarding acceptance of the Seventeen-Point Agreement after he returned to Lhasa and had consulted the abbots of the monasteries and other officials… On 20 July the Dalai Lama sent a telegram to Mao through the Minority Nationalities Commission in Peking that expressed his welcome to Chang Ching-wu and said that the Tibetan National Assembly would be convened to discuss the Seventeen-Point Agreement after they returned to Lhasa and after Ngabo arrived with the original copy of the agreement. (Goldstein, p. 801)

The five Tibetan signatories to the Seventeen-Point Agreement, led by Ngabo, were present [when the National Assembly was convened] but were seated separately from the main body of delegates. Ngabo gave a detailed and rather impassioned speech to the assembly that took over an hour. He ended his comments: “If you feel that this Seventeen-Point Agreement will help the joint secular and religious form of government and the activities of the Dalai Lama, then accept it and put it into practice. But if you think it is wrong, then you can punish me, saying that we have ignored the inner instructions. For the five of us [the delegates] whatever you want to take, our body, life, property, whatever you have to do, go ahead and do it and we will have no regrets.” He then said it would be easier for those in the assembly to discuss the matter if he and the other delegates were not there, and the five delegates left the assembly hall. After a lengthy discussion in which the majority argued that the Seventeen-Point Agreement promised that Tibet could maintain its religious government and monastic system together with the estate systems on which it was based, the assembly recommended to the Dalai Lama that the agreement be approved. (Goldstein, p. 812)

Sir Charles Bell’s Portrait of a Dalai Lama

(Please note: Most of the following is actually not cited in the book A Great Deception: The Ruling Lamas’ Policies but can be taken as supplementary.)

In his book Beyond Dogma, the current Dalai Lama is asked about what international political action he advocates to prevent Tibetan genocide. In part, the Dalai Lama responds:

As a Buddhist I am in the habit saying that we have three refuges: the Buddha; the Dharma, the teachings; and the Sangha, the monastic community. We can now include a fourth one: the international community. Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha are terms which may seem mysterious to you, but at the level of active support the international community becomes a fourth refuge, one we greatly need. (p. 125)

The 13th Dalai Lama (1876-1933) also tried this non-spiritual approach: first seeking refuge in the Russians for protection from the invading British; then, when “hope of aid from Russia was dashed to the ground,” warming up to the British for recognized independence and protection from the Chinese; then, in the closing years of his life, turning strongly towards China and weakening relations with the British! Indeed, this life-long political juggling act made it difficult for the Dalai Lama to practice the Buddhist teachings he had memorized as a child:

On one occasion I quote to him the lines out of Ajax of Sophocles, describing the instability of friendship; for an enemy may later become a friend, and a friend turn into an enemy. Without a moment’s hesitation he quotes an old Tibetan saying, which runs as follows:

Even the friend may sometime become a foe
Even the foe may sometime become a friend;
Remembering this, bear enmity to none.

Yet still, Bell notes that after Tibet’s fighting with the Chinese:

It was necessary to persuade the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan Government to spare the lives of these two [Chinese] men, whatever their past history might have been, because if they put them to death they would thereby sow the seeds of great future trouble for themselves and for us. So I went so far as to say, “Even if a man oppressed me, plundered my goods, and killed my children, I should still try to keep calm and consider how it would be best to deal with the matter.” On this the Dalai Lama sat back in his chair, laughed consumedly, and said that he quite agreed. (p. 142)

Had the Dalai Lama become so far removed from the teachings of Je Tsongkhapa (quoted below), that a Christian foreigner was the one to remind him of his vow to abandon killing, especially when done out of political retaliation?

I seek your blessings to complete the perfection of patience
So that even if every living being in the three realms,
Out of anger were to abuse me, criticize me, threaten me, or even take my life,
Undisturbed, I would repay their harm by helping them.

Perhaps this should not be so surprising. When Bell asked the 13th Dalai Lama, “In which Dalai Lama’s time did the first Panchen Lama live?” he replied that he did not know (p. 127). What was it that caused the 13th Dalai Lama to compromise on the religious ideals taught to him as a youth?

Though murder in Tibet is not uncommon, the Dalai Lama abolished capital punishment, except for an attempt to poison himself, or other very serious crime against the religion, such a crime occurring only once in every five or ten years. Until the time of his flight to India, while the ideals of his youth were still strong within him, the Dalai Lama, as he himself informed me, allowed no capital punishment in any circumstances. Later on, however, as he became more and more immersed in the difficulties of administration, he found that capital punishment was occasionally unavoidable. (p. 179)

Opening the chapter entitled Full Control:

Probably the most difficult of all the Dalai Lama’s tasks in his home administration lay in restraining his own monks. They had been accustomed to exercise great power in the secular administration, but he was determined to restrain them from political activities, except within certain well recognised limits; for instance, the Parliament. Indeed, this latter power he also held in check, because he seldom summoned the Parliament, when he was older and found his authority secure beyond all question. He would never admit the argument that religion and politics are inseparable. But religion was over all, Buddha was over all; and that was the role that he represented and filled. Himself a monk, he reduced the worldly power of the monks around him, and to that extent he increased the authority of the lay officialdom.

The King of Bhutan, a neighboring state, allows the Church no great influence in politics. This king and his people are of Tibetan stock, and follow devoutly the Tibetan religion.

In fact, the idea has long since passed into a Tibetan saying, “Religious affairs and secular affairs stand apart from each other.” Ye cannot serve God and Mammon. The Dalai Lama undertook both, but he stood above the law; and even of him you would hear criticism on this account from those who were traditionally opposed to Lhasa, as in Tashi Lhunpo, and from those outside the range of his secular authority, as in Bhutan and Sikkim. (p. 191)

And, ending the chapter entitled Full Control:

The Dalai Lama was indeed an absolute dictator; more so as regards his own country than Herr Hitler and Signor Mussolini in theirs. To gain his position he could not make use of oratory, as they did; still less of the radio, even if arrangements for broadcasting had existed. But he had greater resources than either oratory or wireless. For he could reward or punish, both in this life and in future lives. “Does it not matter to you whether you are reborn as a human being or as a pig? The Dalai Lama can help to secure that you will be reborn as a human being in a high position, or, better still, as a monk or nun in a country where Buddhism flourishes.”

Nothing is more important to a Tibetan than his birth in the next life, for indeed, if his life has been evil, and there is none to intervene on his behalf, he may even be condemned to hellish experiences for a thousand years or more. In these circumstances it will be readily understood that the Dalai Lama’s power was almost irresistible. Yet even all this would not have given him that commanding position on the secular side, unless he had possessed a strong will, a good constitution, and a real love of politics and administration. (p. 197)

Bell adds later that “as for the outstanding advantages of his position, he takes them for granted. His people are assured of his divine pre-eminence, his power over this life and the next. What a lot he owes to that!” (p. 372).

Then, in 1914, the first World War broke out. In spite of his precarious position, the Dalai Lama offered a thousand Tibetan soldiers to fight on the British side. Rather pathetically, when offering these men, he wrote that he could not send rifles with them. There were not many rifles in the whole of Tibet, and it would have been suicidal to let any of those rifles go. It was indeed not possible to accept this offer of soldiers, but many Tibetans joined the hospital and ambulance corps.

The Dalai Lama also ordained that certain religious services should be held in the main monasteries throughout Tibet for the success of British arms. This may seem a trivial matter, but, as a matter of fact, the monasteries had to be paid for this service, and the expenditure on this by the Tibetan Government, hardly able to find money for its own needs, was considerable.

In one of the verbal messages that I received from His Holiness, while telling me about these religious services, he added, “We have transferred privately to the credit of the British Government a number of the services which have been held for the Tibetan Government. If we had held all of them for the British, our people would have thought that the British troops must be in desperate straits, and would have been greatly anxious as to the result of the war.”

…The Panchen Lama’s Government, though unfriendly towards the Government at Lhasa, wished still to remain on terms of close friendship with the British. It is said that while [Chinese] anti-British reports were circulated in Tibet, the Panchen Lama held religious services for killing the enemies of the British in the war. That is a dangerous thing for any lama to do, because it is believed that those who hold such services are themselves likely to die soon. (pp. 235-236, 237)

Are the karmic ramifications for “religious services for the success of British arms” and “religious services for killing the enemies of the British” really that different?

As far as the supernatural cause that led to the Dalai Lama’s death, we can read the speech by Helmut Gassner (pp. 7-8), as well as a recent essay by Trinley Kalsang, which tell of the vengeful spirit of a monk killed by the Tibetan government who occasionally steps into the medium of Nechung, the State Oracle, giving the Dalai Lamas disastrous advice; this theory is still widely accepted today among Tibetans:

Now rumours began in Tibet as to the cause of the illness and its nature. The traders coming down from Tibet with their strings of mules carrying the yearly supply of wool, yak tails, skins and other products, brought their own stories with them.

It appeared that the Precious Protector had gone to the Field on the last day of the tenth Tibetan month, corresponding with the middle of December. The day of the week was Sunday. According to Tibetan ideas, if a man dies on a Sunday or a Tuesday, it is an evil omen. People say, “He died on a stormy day.” The family may expect much sickness and other calamities.

As the Dalai Lama has no family, it seemed to many Tibetans that this passing away on a Sunday portended evil to the Government of Tibet, and through the Government to the whole country.

All reports agreed that the Precious Protector’s illness had been short.

Among stories that were then being passed from mouth to mouth, the following might be related. At the end of February, 1934, Palhese, coming for his daily talk, asked me with suppressed eagerness, “Has Rai Bahadur Norbhu told you about recent happenings in Lhasa concerning the passing of the Precious Protector to the Field?”

“He has told me about the medium of the Nechung Oracle giving the Precious Protector medicine which injured him.”

Says Palhese, “It is about the medicine that I wish to speak. It was given at the instigation of a tulku from Nyarong (a province in eastern Tibet), who has been reborn as a devil. It did indeed do injury; in fact, it made the Precious Protector an ‘Is Not.’

“At the time when the Tengyeling Regent was ruling, this tulku held religious services to promote the interests of Tengyaling and destroy the Precious Sovereign. The tulku was arrested, put in prison, and given many severe floggings with the usual leather thongs on his bare skin, so that his flesh hung in strips after each flogging. But he was a Lama of great learning and ability, and he used to meditate on ‘the void.’ So it was noticed that during each flogging, severe though it was, he uttered no exclamation of pain, not even the smallest sound. And what was still more remarkable, by the next day his flesh had entirely healed.

“At length, however, angry at this treatment, the Nyarong tulku asked the warder in charge of him for a small knife to cut a lump out of his boot. The warder gave it. When the lama went to pay a call of nature, he used the opportunity to cut his throat. The warder rushed up to seize him, so the lama jumped out of the window of his cell, which was two floors above the ground. The fall killed him.

“Passing from life thus, in anger at the treatment he had received, he reincarnated as a devil, and being of great learning and ability, as a powerful devil. So a high lama of eastern Tibet was engaged to catch the tulku’s mind, put it in the ground, and build a choten over it. This was done; the choten was strongly built, and the necessary articles—religious books and the like—were placed inside it. But a day or two afterwards a great vertical crack was seen in the choten. There had been no earthquake or thunderstorm, and it was clear that the devil was one of great power, and so the mind was able to crack the choten and escape through it.

“Later on, it was noticed that the prophecies issuing through the prophet of the Nechung Oracle were wrong and harmful. At the time of the British military expedition to Lhasa in the Wood Dragon year, he gave out that the Tibetan Government should send soldiers to fight against the British, but that the soldiers should not fire their rifles; this was what happened at Guru [The place, about twenty-eight miles beyond Pari, where fighting first broke out between the Indian and Tibetan troops]. This and other counsels were not the true utterances of the Oracle, but were put into the mind of the prophet by this evil. And it was this devil who instigated the prophet to give this deadly medicine. There are in Tibet those who can see and recognise deities and devils, and those recognised the devil by their own methods, while the high lamas did so by their power of divination.

“That prophet had been dismissed after the British expedition but two or three years ago the Precious Protector reinstated him, allowing the deity to come again inside him.”

This is the only instance which I heard that a tulku had been reborn as a devil. (pp. 435-437)

Tenzin Peljor says, “One of the sources NKT/WSS are using is Sir Charles Bell, but Bell is clear that the 13th Dalai Lama was a good ruler, who worked extremely hard and selflessly as the servant of his people. (Do you need some quotes?)” Well, yes! Bell calls the Dalai Lama ‘selfless’ only once, and it is his only substantial praise of the Dalai Lama after 440 pages, with only 3 pages of the 13th Dalai Lama’s biography left to go! Even then, this is mentioned more in passing so as to guess the natural cause of the Dalai Lama’s demise:

When we were in Lhasa in 1921, Kennedy, from such reports as reached him, thought that the Dalai Lama’s heart was weak. In 1934, Harnett, from what I told him, thought that the symptoms of the Dalai Lama’s last illness perhaps indicated uraemia or pneumonia, aggravated by the giving of wrong medicine. In his advanced years and growing weakness he may well have caught a chill, going backwards and forwards at night between Clear Eye Palace and Jewel Park Palace. The season at this time was mid-December.

It would be equally true to say of this selfless ruler that he died of overwork in the service of his country. The overstrain of this was aggravated by his quick temper, checked more and more from bursting out as he grew older; but the strain was always there. And he had suffered those two hard periods of exile, hard for the body and hard for the mind. (p. 441)

Turn the page, and Bell provides a few other Opinions on His Rule:

Thus the Thirteenth Dalai Lama passed to the Honourable Field. Within a few months of his death he came to be called “The Great Thirteenth,” equal to, if not greater than, him whom men had always called “The Great Fifth.”

During his life Tibetan opinion was divided regarding his administration. The great Tashi Lhunpo Monastery, focusing the ideas of the Panchen Lama’s party, was against him. So was that portion of the Tsang province which lies under its shadow, as well as the supporters of the Tengyeling Monastery, and the greater part of Drepung Monastery. A number of those living outside the boundaries of his secular rule, for instance in Bhutan and Sikkim, were glad to show their independence by criticism. This antagonism came from the educated classes; to the peasants he was above criticism, just the Precious Protector, the Inmost One.

In order to strengthen Tibet internally and externally he found it necessary to impose fresh taxation, and no country dislikes increased taxes more than Tibet does.

The commonest criticism was that he should have confined himself to the purity of the spiritual rule, and appointed a Regent to hold the dirty reins of worldly government. Neither from Asiatic or European did I ever hear the smallest whisper against his moral character. Still, Kazi Dawa Samdrup, a learned Bhutanese, was one of several who expressed the opinion that by taking up the secular rule the Dalai Lama became more earthly, and when he went to the Honourable Field, would have to work hard to regain his previous spiritual position. (p. 442)

In the closing paragraphs, Bell asks, “Was the Dalai Lama on the whole a good ruler? We may safely says that he was, on the spiritual as well as the secular side” (p. 444). One reason he gives for each is that (a) the Dalai Lama “diminished [the monks’s] interference in politics,” and, ironically, thereby “increased the spirituality of Tibetan Buddhism,” and (b) the Dalai Lama “built up an army in the face of opposition from the monasteries; prior to his rule there was practically no army at all.”

I have often read that ‘conservative monastic elements’ had opposed the 13th Dalai Lama’s “modernist-leaning reforms, which attempted to turn Tibet into a modern state through the assimilation of foreign ideas and institutions (such as an efficient standing army and Western-style education)” (Kay, p. 43), yet Bell says that “The Dalai Lama had no wish to develop his country on Western lines; in fact, he had a horror of that” (p. 190). The only ‘reform’ that the monastic establishment was opposed to, according to Bell, was building an army! He only mentions the closing of the English school in Gyangtse in connection with the Dalai Lama taking political refuge in China.

According to tradition, Guatama was offered the choice of being a World Conqueror or a religious mendicant evolving into the Buddha. He chose religious poverty rather than great wealth and world sovereignty. So did Christ. But here a whole nation did so—Tibet. Has any other nation stood on this high level? (p. 34)

We may rightly ask why the 13th Dalai Lama himself was not able to stand on that level, and whether from a spiritual perspective this degeneration of his refuge vows (i.e., seeking a fourth refuge) caused Tibet’s fall to the Chinese. Perhaps the answer comes from his previous incarnations, who Bell claims, also felt “that their sanctity was tarnished by the dirt of worldly administration” (p. 65).

What was the Dalai Lama’s own attitude to his status in the Buddhist world? Did he himself believe that he was supreme among Buddhists, a god on earth? Among Tibetans and other Asiatics he claimed this supremacy in every word and deed. As for myself, it was undesirable and unnecessary for me to ask such a question. My chief duty was to promote friendship between Britain and Tibet, a duty doubly strong in these days when so many injure our fatherland by ignorant criticism of those whose forms of government or rules of conduct differ from our own.

Whenever the idea was in the background of our talks, he would look at me with a deprecating smile, as much as to say, “I know I cannot expect you to believe it.” And he was always ready to admit a lack of knowledge or lack of power in the presence of a few daily associates, such as the Court Physician. But in public it was always asserted. On the medal that he gave me it is confidently claimed [“From the Dalai Lama who holds the Vajra, Lord of all Buddhists on the earth...”]; in his Political Testament it is placed clearly on record. (pp. 216-217, [147])

I find the above interesting because the Resolution of the Tibetan Cholsum Convention, which hopes to “ensure the fulfillment of the great religio-political visions of His Holiness the Dalai Lama,” goes so far as to claim that the current Dalai Lama “is the overall head of all Buddhist traditions on this earth”! Some detractors have doubted the accuracy of this English translation, saying that a Dalai Lama would never describe himself thus, yet here it is again in all its ‘glory’ … Just think of all the things this title has been used to justify!

Book Review: A Great Deception

A Great Deception advocates a spiritual solution to a political problem that has plagued Tibetan society for the past 15 years, the controversy over the Dalai Lama’s religious discrimination against Dorje Shugden practitioners. Walking in the footsteps of the Buddha, high Lamas should renounce involvement in worldly political affairs. Buddha spoke of his renunciation in this way:

Bodhisattvas should follow my example. I renounced my kingdom and attained complete enlightenment. You must be aware of how close the relationship between renunciation of the world and the eventual attainment of supreme enlightenment is.

Buddha’s father offered to abdicate the throne in favor of his son’s rule, to which Buddha replied:

Father, I am no longer the son of one family, one clan, or even one country. My family is now all beings, my home is the Earth, and my position is that of a monk who depends on the generosity of others. I have chosen this path, not the path of politics. I believe I can best serve all beings in this way.

It is readily apparent throughout this book that the Western Shugden Society is no fan of Communist China, a “totalitarian regime” that “invaded” Tibet and has now “occupied” it for more than 50 years. Still, primary blame for the “catastrophic decline” of Buddhadharma in Tibet over the past few hundred years, which ultimately precipitated the loss of the country to the Chinese, rests solely on the unholy mixing of religion and politics which the book calls ‘Lama Policy’. The current Dalai Lama’s political ambition to become the unprecedented spiritual head of all Tibetan Buddhists, his unfailing adulation of Mao, and his fascination with ‘half-Buddhist, half-Marxist’ communism (seriously retarding his exile government’s democratization) are all given heavy treatment in the book. Many Tibetans feel personally betrayed by the Dalai Lama, who unilaterally handed over the cause of Tibetan independence to the Chinese as early as the 1980s, without consulting either the Tibetan parliament or his people. Once Tibetan nationals started to realize that their hopes for a ‘Free Tibet’ had been ruined, the Dalai Lama’s scapegoating of Dorje Shugden practitioners began… and for the past 15 years this clintonesque misdirection has worked amazingly well, albeit to the detriment of the Tibetan exile community’s internal trust, peace, and harmony.

New book by the Western Shugden Society

The book puts forth a most intriguing thesis, which is touched on throughout various chapters as it retraces the history of the Dalai Lamas; the implications will be earth-shattering for many Tibetan Buddhists, yet liberating for many others including myself. That is, “a great deception” has been perpetrated since the death of the Fourth Dalai Lama, in that no one who has carried this title since—from the Fifth to the current Fourteenth—has actually fulfilled the First Dalai Lama’s promise to his root Guru, Je Tsongkhapa, who was the founder of the Gelugpa tradition: “From now until I attain enlightenment I shall seek no refuge other than you… I pray that, with my mind free from the influence of attachment and hatred, I may strive to maintain your doctrine and cause it to flourish without ever giving up this endeavor” (translation in the book Heart Jewel by Geshe Kelsang Gyatso). The first four Dalai Lamas are presented as pious, holy men who lived “exemplary lives of pure moral discipline and spiritual practice,” and so there is no doubt about their authenticity.

In sharp contrast, the so-called Fifth Dalai Lama’s military escapades (including sectarian suppression of the Jonang, Kagyu, and Bön traditions), political intrigues (including the assassination of his spiritual ‘rival’, Dragpa Gyaltsen), and abhorrence of his root Guru the Panchen Lama call into doubt whether he was really the reincarnation of the Fourth Dalai Lama at all. Rather, “Many Gelugpa lamas believe that Dragpa Gyaltsen, and not Losang Gyatso, was the actual incarnation of the Fourth Dalai Lama and that when Dragpa Gyaltsen died he became a Protector of Je Tsongkhapa’s Ganden tradition” (i.e., he manifested as Dorje Shugden). Indeed, it would be interesting to know how pervasive this interpretation is amongst contemporary Shugden Lamas, because it helps to explain so much, for example, why the earliest rituals to Dorje Shugden identified him as an emanation of Avalokiteshvara (see the Dorje Shugden History website), and why it is that the Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Dalai Lamas weren’t particularly noteworthy, to say the least.

The book is a damning account of the Fifth, Thirteenth, and current Dalai Lamas’ theocracies and their failures as political and spiritual leaders. And, although the book is heavily sourced, it is intended merely as a starting point for journalists and scholars to dig even deeper. In a sense, exposing the Dalai Lama’s “open secrets” to the world in this way is like giving us permission to look past the facade and not feel blasphemous for doing so: the authors invite the world again and again to scrutinize the Dalai Lama’s actions just as they would any politician, and not be mesmerized by the celebrity of this ‘simple Buddhist monk’. For these Tibetan Buddhists, the Dalai Lama can no longer hide behind the mask of Avalokiteshvara, the Buddha of Compassion, for his actions simply do not merit it: even the current Dalai Lama’s militant campaigns, political intrigues, and abhorrence of his root Guru (whom he never acknowledges) are laid bare, a haunting replay of the Great Fifth’s samsaric life.

Nevermind the fact the Dalai Lama has never had the ecclesiastical authority to ban prayers to Dorje Shugden, what this book makes transparent is that neither does he have the moral authority. Of course, the Dalai Lama’s Buddhist teachings and lectures are spectacular, which is a testament more to the wisdom and kindness of his unsung Spiritual Guide, Trijang Rinpoche, a Dorje Shugden practitioner who arguably was the greatest Tibetan Buddhist master of his generation. The Dalai Lama often says that we have to choose between himself or Dorje Shugden, which in effect amounts to choosing either the Dalai Lama or the late Trijang Rinpoche; for many Shugden practitioners this has been a difficult but clear choice, and this book makes it crystal clear.