Could This Really Be It?

The Dalai Lama publicly declared his withdrawal from politics a few weeks ago. While many have a hard time accepting a political future without him, I find myself standing diametrically opposed at the other end of the spectrum: I believe His Holiness’ withdrawal doesn’t go far enough to achieve the desired impact of modernising the Tibetan polity and making it survivable beyond his lifetime.


When I learned about Kundun’s decision to retire, I was very happy for him. If anyone deserves a break, it’s the Dalai Lama. He has been working tirelessly and in all conscience for others since he was a child. While teenagers elsewhere are not entrusted to run even a household, the 16-year old Dalai Lama had to run a country threatened by hostile forces. He did more than his fair share, we all agree, and for the rest of us it’s high time to wake up, we all agree too.

So could this be it? Could this mark the long-desired separation of religion and politics with the return of Tibetan Buddhism to the root of the Buddha’s teaching, and the beginning of modern government in the exile polity? Could his announcement to retire from politics really, finally mark the long-overdue mortal blow to the old Tibetan system of merging the spiritual and the secular by no less a figure than the central person in the system, the Dalai Lama himself?

Pardon, but Kundun sometimes is not the best communicator.

As with past announcements, he had to follow up with an explanation for the shocked Tibetans at home and abroad. I too listened to the “clarification statement posted on phayul.com and couldn’t help notice a number of things:

As much as I welcome his decision to withdraw from politics, I must say the form he chose for the address was awkward. We see the Dalai Lama sitting on a high throne while the others are congregating at his feet. In my eyes, this seating arrangement shows how Kundun himself is a prisoner of the system: Has he become so used to merging his two roles that he doesn’t realise anymore that this type of hierarchical seating arrangement is okay for a Buddhist teaching but not for a political briefing? There is nothing authentic in one person talking down from a throne to a group of people sitting cross-legged on the floor about “it’s time you introduce modern government”.

Then there was the way he delivered the message: Frequent use of expressions such as hagoba chi-a (“note once and for all”) and the general non-use of honourifics made the tone of his speech patronising. It created the impression that the Dalai Lama displays a lack of respect for his counterpart. The impression was reaffirmed by the Dalai Lama’s body language which showed him talking with a wagging finger. Sadly, I didn’t see a modern political leader withdrawing from a post. I saw a typical traditional person speaking down to grown people like a duck takes to water.

But as much as it bothered me, nobody in the audience said anything although uneasiness transpired through the video to the viewer. Either it was all Mountain Phoenix’ wrong perception and there really was nothing wrong with the speech or the audience was in deed not happy, yet kept quiet, which doesn’t speak for mature, democratic behaviour.

Ideally at this point, His Holiness, sensing the unease, should have invited feedback to allow for a conversation but that didn’t happen. So the end of the video shows uncomfortable silence on both sides with Kundun fiddling about with a few loose leaves from a Buddhist text. - Again: What business do scriptures have at a political briefing?

In my eyes, the very event meant to clarify his earlier announcement to withdraw from politics was dripping wet with mchos-srid-zung-drel. It reconfirmed the impression that although our bodies arrived in the 21^st century, our minds have never really left the old system.

The most unsettling part in all of this, however, was what His Holiness did not address: He made no mention of all the other elected and/or appointed monks, apart from himself, who are still occupying posts in the administration and the parliament. If the Dalai Lama is serious about releasing the Tibetans to modern government, it is not enough for him alone to withdraw; it is indispensable to address the general withdrawal of the Sangha from politics altogether.

Removing himself alone won’t make the Tibetan polity secular as long as other people in robes further down the ladder continue to engage in politics. The Dalai Lama’s sole withdrawal would be an individual HR change at the very top with the basic nature of the exile polity remaining the same. In the worst case, another monk may be elected or appointed to high office in the future and the inauspicious cycle of Tibetan worldly dependence on Lamas is free to continue.

But alas, to my greatest discomfort, there was no word on this most important of all points!

And to further confuse the viewer, His Holiness dropped a remark in the video about: “We never called the Tibetan government-in-exile “the Tibetan government in exile”; we always called it “the central Tibetan administration”. - How do you even say that in Tibetan? He uses English in the video! Does anyone have an idea what he was getting at? I thought we and Dharamsala understand it to be the legitimate continuation of the Tibetan government toppled by the Chinese? And now it’s scaled down to “administering” the Tibetans living abroad? 

In my eyes, the “clarification statement” raises a lot more questions than it answers.

But it looks like after the initial shock, many have already arranged themselves with the new situation and are now circling the whole discussion around technicalities such as amending the constitution, rather than showing interest in discussing a fundamental, structural course correction – or they are banking all their hopes on the newly elected prime minister without having to change anything about themselves.

When something becomes a norm in a society, like religious rule for the Tibetans, it isn't easy to propound change because by questioning the specific practice, automatically all the people who are used to it, feel challenged. For the Tibetans the political role of the Dalai Lama and the general presence of the Sangha in politics are not only very normal but highly desirable. As wrong as it is, many of us have reached the acute point where they become really nervous at the thought of being politically governed by anybody else but a Lama.

Have we truly lost all confidence in our own ability?

The only job a Lama has ever had is to guide inclined individuals on the path that leads to enlightenment. The job profile of a Lama does not include solving political problems, that’s mundane stuff and the people’s turf.

The cool thing about Buddhism, which we claim we are the son and heir, is its egalitarian nature: Everyone has equal potential to Buddhahood. There is no external savior. Even the Buddha himself couldn’t save anybody because nobody is above the law of cause and effect - you reap what you sow. Straight and simple.

The Buddha then showed people the path to enlightenment, but to actually walk the path is something everyone has to do themselves. It’s a dedicated personal effort. You not only have to do all the work yourself, but it’s only you who can do it. Doesn’t herein lie the beauty of the entire exercise called Buddhism? Have we forgotten?

Have we perhaps also forgotten that at the final stage of Guru devotion, the Lama dissolves into us, and we become the Lama? Our mind and the teacher’s become one. So there is not only no external saviour on the worldly level, there is no saviour on the spiritual level either. Only you can save yourself!

So when even in theory a Lama such as the Buddha himself can’t save anyone, how did we end up believing so firmly it could work in practice? Our idea of the Dalai Lama being capable of solving all problems on our behalf is so wrong altogether. It’s a Tibetan cultural creation superimposed on Buddhism and masquerading as such.

Maybe we have also forgotten that even from a purely religious standpoint, Lamas have never held the absolute position we tend to award the current Dalai Lama. Do we not take pride in the non-hierarchical nature of Buddhism because in our religion, people are encouraged to develop a critical mind and are free to debate with their teachers since Buddha Shakyamuni’s time? Not out of ill intention, but out of a deeply felt, genuine desire to understand and evolve?

Have all (former) monks in Tibetan society perhaps forgotten too? During a debate in the courtyard, don’t you have to present intellectually valid arguments based on the Peja to back your position? You wouldn’t just shout: “My Lama said so and he is smarter than you, so eat it!” You’d turn yourself into a laughing stock of the whole monastery if you did. So if we disapprove of this in a professional religious debate, then how come it’s okay to use it in worldly matters? Why is it socially acceptable to silence critical voices by merely stating the Dalai Lama is Chenresig and therefore knows better?

I believe we are hugely confused. We cannot keep concepts apart since we are so used to blending the spiritual and the mundane.

While on an ultimate or religious level, the Dalai Lama is Avalokitesvara, on a relative or worldly level, he is human – like the rest of us including the Buddha himself. But a lot of Tibetans don’t seem to recognise any longer that there are different ways of looking at things. They subconsciously blend the relative and the ultimate, the worldly and the spiritual, so that the person who is the Dalai Lama becomes the absolute authority on anything and everything. And to really let the corks pup they then understand this abstruse mixture to constitute “Tibetan Buddhism”.

Say that centuries of this type of muddle-headed thinking did not turn us into a people who placed itself under disability.

Can we not remember anymore that there was also a Tibet long before the emergence of the Dalai Lamas where our ancestors governed themselves? And have our minds become so narrow that we are unable to imagine a future where we will govern ourselves again free from religious influence?

Some expressed fear that the Dalai Lama’s withdrawal from politics could mean abandonment.

I wonder how this conclusion is possible at all. How could Avalokitesvara “abandon” anybody? The decision to resign as the head of government can only be looked at as the kind, gracious and farsighted step of a Bodhisattva who acts with nothing at his heart but the best interest of others. The Dalai Lama’s withdrawal from politics then cannot mean abandonment whatsoever, but really must mean the pure opposite: empowerment. Following our logic, his withdrawal can only be an expression of a Bodhisattva’s altruistic wish for us to begin our long outstanding emancipation. This is the only way to look at it. Any other conclusion is completely illogical.

Over 2000 years ago in India, when the Buddha finally returned home for a visit, his father, the king, was very pleased to see his son had become a religious leader with an impressive following. The Buddha’s religious prestige, the king reasoned, would help to strengthen his political power when ascending to the throne. But to his disappointment, the Buddha renounced the throne. Instead he told his father that his was the path of Dharma and not the worldly path of politics. In Thich Nhat Hanh’s “Old Path, White Clouds” the Buddha says:

“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”.

We are fond of our country being called the abode of Buddhism. But more than 400 years ago in Tibet, we went the exact opposite way of the Buddha. We couldn’t resist and lifted a priest to the highest political office by making him ruler of the country. Some defensive voices might interject: “We didn’t invent it! Some Mongols forced it upon us!” But does it speak for us that we’ve kept it all this time, long after the last Mongol disappeared from the Tibetan scene? We hung on to it way into the 21^st century - after 1959 even without a physical state.

As a Tibetan, it feels terrible. I feel very bad for His Holiness who has always tried to do his best. But it’s no good denying what is plain to see: The path our ancestors chose was corrupted from the start. This is the harsh truth I believe we must learn to face.

The 14^th Dalai Lama, playing the central role in this ill-fated system, has worked to correct the system as far as possible. But as the clarification video on phayul.com shows, he is like a courageous patient determined to operate on himself: It doesn’t work well. This is why we absolutely must take advantage of the favourable situation the Dalai Lama is trying to create and press ahead with the complete separation of the spiritual and the secular.

Today could be the day where the Tibetans in the free world choose to discontinue on the wrong path. It could be today that we begin to correct past mistakes for good. As Buddhists we know there is nothing predetermined or eternally valid. We all are Tibet and it is completely in our hands to decide which way we want to go and what kind of people we want to be.

For some, including Mountain Phoenix, there is no question that we must pick up where we left off 400 years ago and reassume full control over worldly matters again. But we can only get there as a community, all of us together, and with many coming whole-heartedly to this conclusion.

Let us start the painful political discourse today and not deceive ourselves by believing the job is done now that we elected a new prime minister; or now that some officials have held meetings, redistributed tasks and amended the constitution to reflect the Dalai Lama’s absence - and then we continue about our old ways.


What we badly need, more than anything, is a change in mindset.  I believe we need to relearn to relie on our own judgement for all matters regarding the worldly level. As Buddhists, we also know there are tools and techniques which can produce a change in mindset.

What keeps us from applying them?

Mountain Phoenix

All written content on this blog is coyprighted. Please do not repost entire essays on your websites without seeking my prior written consent. 

April Fools And Crazy Saints

I went to pick up my children from a kid’s birthday party the other day when I ran into an acquaintance who had just returned from Lhasa with a pile of books on Gedun Choephel in his luggage. My acquaintance said a group of disciples had finally published his Sungbum and he got the collection “just for entertainment”, which somehow sounded like an apology.

While a dozen kids were running around the house, we then began a conversation about the “Amdo beggar”. - What a welcomed change of subject after the exile-Tibetan election craze and the Dalai Lama’s recent surprise announcement to withdraw from politics!

Cautiously I said: “It’s good to know people are looking after his legacy. Gedun Choephel had an unusual style to say it politely, but he also gave the Tibetans a lot of new impulses in many areas. A lot of people at the time just weren’t able to appreciate, don’t you think?”

My acquaintance replied: “Yes, but you know, his Lobma only mention the positive side in these books and say nothing about his controversial works.”

Yes, it’s one-sided to mention only positive things. But then we’re not talking a work of science, are we? Disciples are encouraged to focus on the positive attributes of their Lama so they can proceed on the path, correct?

Maybe suspecting that I must be a fan of Gedun Choephel’s my acquaintance remarked: “I think he simply went overboard. There is a fine line between genius and mania. You know the saying isn’t there for nothing: "Sherab chälpa pe-la shag, Amdo Gedun Choephel ta bu.”

Huh?

The “saying” sounds more like a threat if I got it right: “If you need an example for misdirected intelligence, just take a look the Amdowa Gedun Choephel!”

"Tibet Improvement Party"
Logo by Gedun Choephel

I had always thought of Gedun Choephel as a liberal door-opener who failed not because he wasn’t convincing enough, but because he was stopped by jealous people who were not as smart but came in superior numbers. My impression of Gedun Choephel had been heavily coloured by the non-spiritual part of his life: His arts, his travels outside Tibet, his historical research, and his involvement with the Tibet Improvement Party. I never even properly realised he was born a Tulku with a religious following.

If anything, my idea of Gedun Choephel was a reflection of my own wishful thinking: Finally a person in our recent history who saw the hopelessness of the Tibetan system which was fossilised down to the very fundament; finally a person who did something about it!

After I had brought my kids to bed that night, I fetched a couple of books about Gedun Choephel and began rereading them.

Slowly I noticed that my idea of the man was perhaps not so accurate after all. It sure looked too romantic and incomplete: Not only did I miss that he was a Lama, I was ignorant of the hugeness of his fallout with the Buddhist establishment. I didn’t notice his political naïveté in dealing with people in the Lhasa government either nor the wider implications of his works for the Tibet Improvement Party – and who knows what else I am still missing out on.

Politically Gedun Choephel was almost innocent for current standards. Would you send cartographic materials about a sensitive border area by regular mail when spies playing the “Great Game” are lurking everywhere? That’s what he’s said to have done after members of the Tibet Improvement Party based in Indian Kalimpong convinced him to take the long and not so obvious route back to Tibet. He jotted down all the historical border markers on the way for them. Clueless when he crossed into Tibet, he sent all the materials via British mail back to Kalimpong. The content was discovered, the Lhasa government informed and Gedun Choephel along with the leading members of the Tibet Improvement Party became suspect.

Reminds me of a good-natured friend who naively sent me print-outs of downloads from the internet about the kidnapped child-Panchen Lama to my workplace in Tibet. Hell was I scared when I saw what was in the envelope! I burned everything immediately and thought how lucky I was they didn’t open the mail. But a year later when my friend was about to enter Tibet, the police showed up at her hotel room in the middle of the night interrogating her about her motives for sending me “documents” a year earlier. There was no visible trace the envelope had been openend before I got it. They were watching us all along.

As for Gedun Choephoel’s religious involvement, all I had retained were his legendary debates in the Chöra and how he disguised himself as an unsophisticated Dobdob to defeat a learned, arrogant monk in debate and teach him a lesson in humility; and how he successfully argued that plants are also sentient beings like humans and animals; how the others, short of arguments, would beat him up in order to silence him. The guy was unstoppable. How I loved these stories!

But then I stumbled over a reference which made me think. In her biography of Gedun Choephel, Heather Stoddard writes he quit his Buddhist studies after eleven years shortly before completion because he found it meaningless to obtain the Geshe degree when he didn’t practice.

Isn’t that strange?

What’s the point in sticking around a monastery for eleven years, hanging out with people whose views you disagree with; studying stuff you can’t relate to, that you’ve never even intended to apply? Just to ponder on others’ deficiencies? To teach others a lesson how inadequate they are? For your own aggrandisement?

I really had nothing better to do with my spare time, so I dug deeper into Gedun Choephel religious thoughts reading a Buddhist text attributed to him (or at least parts there of). It was translated into English by Donald Lopez as “The Madman’s Middleway: Reflections on Reality of the Tibetan Monk Gedun Chophel”.

I didn’t understand a single argument in the book. It was all mind-boggling, metaphysical hair-splitting from the standpoint of a layperson with a mild interest in the Dharma. As far as I could follow, Gedun Choephel said “absolute reality” was beyond eternalism and nihilism. He said absolute reality could not be placed between existence (eternalism) and non-existence (nihilism) as propagated by some Lamas because it cannot be conceptually explained but only directly experienced in meditation – or something to that effect, I am not sure at all. Anyway, an ugly dispute arose and Gedun Choephel was called a heretic and a madman.

Personally I couldn’t care less. People who never heard about this theological debate reach(ed) enlightenment too, so why get excited about inconsequential differences?

But at the same time, I thought I got a sense of the depth and the sophistication of the points brought forward by Gedun Choephel. So I began to wonder why he went to such lengths to dispute standard views of the time: If you don’t practice, why care at all? Why waste precious time detecting others’ perceived mistakes in interpreting the Buddha’s - or in this case Nagarjuna’s - words? What is someone’s motivation for doing that?

I’ve come to the conclusion that Gedun Choephel must have cared after all: Truly and deeply. He just had a problem with getting his message across because more often than not, he hit the wrong tone - “c’est le ton qui fait la musique”, n’est-ce pas? But of course our whiz-kid had an answer to this as well: Stupid people don’t deserve better treatment - touché!

It sure must have felt good to triumph. But did he do himself a favour?

His goal was for people to take a fresh look at Tibetan Buddhism. For that he needed the buy-in of the opinion-leaders in the establishment. But the reaction he got from them was complete disagreement and personal discredit. There were so many who thought he was misguided, including his own teacher, that it entered the vernacular (”If you want an example for misdirected intelligence, look at the Amdowa Gedun Choephel”).

Yet in my eyes, he was not a blasphemer at all. In my eyes, he remains an innovator with the best of intentions even in the field of Dharma. But after reading “The Madman’s Middleway” I also believe that Gedun Choephel is himself to be blamed for a lot of the criticism he got. He could have written without hubris, mockery and cynicism. He could have written as Lamas are supposed to speak: With kindness, understanding, and tolerance, choosing his words carefully. But he decided not to. Instead he allowed himself to write as he lived: in excess.

As for his unforgiving critics, whose voices are also included in the book: Aren’t they the ones who teach: “Don’t look at the person, look at the Dharma”? And weren’t they the ones who looked at the person instead of the Dharma? Why didn’t they give Gedun Choephel a chance by objectively looking for the silver lining? When he gave them condescendence, mockery and pride, why did they have to give him back more condescendence, more mockery and more pride? If their position is superior, how come it doesn’t reflect in their demeanour? Why wouldn’t they make an effort to find out for themselves, without any prejudice and ignoring the polemics, whether there was some truth to what Gedun Choephel was trying to get at?

How sad there never was a meeting of the minds! How sad both sides didn’t meet to talk it out in goodwill! It looks like Buddhism as dialogue never happened. Instead, they preferred to write “hate mail” to each other from afar, what a waste!

Lhasa-based gallery and artists

organisation using GC's name

Isn’t it ironic that Gedun Choephel has become an officially lauded reformer and innovator post mortem? Both the Chinese side and Dharamsala claim him as a hero. Tibetan intellectuals on both sides love to associate with him using his name for all kinds of projects. But if he were really among us today, my gut feeling is few people on either side would like him. My guess is he would have remained the persona non grata he was back in old Tibet because had he not died so early, he would continue to hold up a mirror to the Tibetans - and to the Chinese, you bet! He would have continued to question and to disagree, and a lot of uneasy truths would have been put on the table. Can anyone seriously imagine Dharamsala being fond of such a person? Remember, this is the place where a harmless Miss Tibet contest prompts the Prime Minister to make a public comment and deem it “un-Tibetan”.

It’s so safe to find Gedun Choephel cool now that he’s dead and conveniently can’t talk back. There, I said it!

Actually Gedun Choephel’s life begs to be filmed. Why hasn’t anyone made a feature film about his life yet? For sure it would be a million times more exciting than the life and times of Milarepa where I expect the only climax to be how Milarepa conjures up a hail storm to kill his enemies - with the whole story placed against the single backdrop of a somniferous, arid Western Tibetan plateau, yaaawn.

Gedun Choephel’s life in contrast, has all the ingredients for a dazzling thriller: Shot on location in India, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Tibet, and the Himalayas; sharp intellect, sarcasm and humour; adventure, intrigue, hot sex with numerous partners in all kinds of positions; and a tragic ending! And imagine the cast: Over here the radiantly talented Renaissance man without humility; and over there the jealous and mediocre people in the Tibetan government who try everything to make his life miserable, steal his achievements, and keep him small and insignificant; and still a little bit further: a few unforgiving, grim-looking, dry Lamas with no sense of humour who demonise him as a threat to the Dharma not realising that their rigidity is an equal threat.

But a prophet has no honour in his own country.

Maybe Gedun Choephel should have tried his luck in Buthan?

Instead of returning to Lhasa where he was incarcerated to rot in prison before being released again only to die a little while later, I think he should have gone to Bhutan. He may have become a saint by now, just like Drukpa Kunley, the 15th century Tsangpa, who left Tibet and became famous for his crazy methods of enlightenment, blessing women by way of sexual intercourse and giving teachings in exchange for alcohol - “Bhutanese Arts of Love” if you wish!

In one region of Bhutan, drawings of huge male genitals’ are all over the house walls. And not only that, at the monastery, they will bless you with a gigantic wooden replica of the venerable Drukpa Kunley’s “very own”. I was almost knocked out by it. Have you ever been blessed by a phallus? Where in Tibet can you receive a blessing from a phallus? You get blessed by receiving a Khata from a Lama. If you’re lucky, you receive a cha-wang, or as the Gyalwa Karmapa used to do back when he was still in Tsurpu, bless visitors via a 3-metre long arm-extending cord. But blessed by a phallus? That’s only possible in Bhutan. The Bhutanese may have known how to appreciate someone like Gedun Choephel!

Another more recent Lama who would fit the series “crazy saints” is the late and controversial Trungpa Tulku. We find the same pattern of a life-style branded by alcohol and sex which is what we would associate with a rock star but not a Tibetan Lama. Even though he didn’t look nor live like a conventional Lama, he brought Buddhism to many people. Some say he was successful in doing it precisely because he dropped monastic conventions so he was better accessible. These days a film is screened about his life and times. I haven’t seen it yet but I saw that a trailer, “Crazy Wisdom”, is out.

Anyway, maybe it’s not just Lamas like Gedun Choephel, Drukpa Kunley or Choegyam Trungpa who are the misfits. Maybe it’s us. Maybe when they see how we act, talk and think, they can’t help but go nuts to finally produce a meeting of the minds?

Wait a minute!

Are we perhaps in the middle of that Buddhist parable about this king whose subjects all went nuts because they had drunk water from a poisoned well?

The king, who didn’t drink from the well, was the only one who remained mentally intact, but after a while, since he always ended up arguing with his crazy subjects, they accused him of being the one who was mad. To dissolve the impasse, the king then deliberately drank the poisonous water. Now they were all sitting in the same boat rocking in the same waves.

Perhaps that explains what’s going one here?

I am confused. Maybe next time our little ones need to be picked up from a birthday party, I’d better ask my partner to go.

April Fools :--)
Mountain Phoenix



















All written content on this blog is coyprighted. Please do not repost entire essays on your websites without seeking my prior written consent. 

When The Snowlion Descends From The Mountain

A while ago, we received an invitation to a smoke-offering ceremony (Sangsol) to commemorate the freedom fighters of the Tibetan resistance and all compatriots killed in the course of the Chinese takeover.

Andrug Gonpo Tashi’s memoirs, Nyarong Aten’s life-story written by Jamyang Norbu; or John Avedon’s “In Exile from the Land of Snow”; those were books that coined us as youths. Who wasn’t impressed by the stories of the brave men of the “Four Rivers and Six Ranges” or Chushi Gangdrug, who fought the invaders and orchestrated the Dalai Lama’s flight?

http://www.friendsoftibet.org/main/hhdl.html

Decades later, somebody gave us a copy of Lithang Athar Norbu’s oral memoirs recorded on DVD. He recounts, in great detail, those days of glory and subsequent tragedy from the perspective of a directly involved witness to history. Irritations between his organization and the Tibetan government, which later arose when on Indian/Nepali soil, were also freely addressed. He spoke from memory about historic events as if everything had just happened yesterday. I was glued to the TV for hours. I would not have been able to tell. He appeared very together and lucid, but somebody pointed out he was already very ill. Parts of the DVD are also available as video on Youtube

Even though the resistance failed, our “war heroes” deserve to be honored because they didn’t give up without putting up a good fight. So the least someone like me could do, I figured, is go and pay my respects.

The memorial service began straight away with a two-hour prayer session. We recited a hotchpotch of I-don’t-know-what, jumping back and forth between the pages of a 2-inch thick prayer book. The only fractions I was able to discern was a Mandala offering and a couple of stanzas from Lama Choepa. A solemn introduction by the leading monk was missing. It would have been helpful to know what it was we were reciting and how that related back to the people we were remembering.

Before we then proceeded to the actual smoke-offering ritual, there were formal speeches by people who hold office in the organization understood to be the heir to the resistance movement, also going by the same name. Further function owners were a people’s representative and a representative of the women’s organization. The government was not represented.

The main point reiterated by the speakers was: a) remember the sacrifice of Chushi Gangdrug, b) remain united (dogtsa jigdril), and c) follow the orders of His Holiness well.

I was so disappointed. Had they nothing more relevant to say for this significant ceremony?

Nobody has forgotten the sacrifice not just of Chushi Gangdrug but of all Tibetans all over the country. And aren’t we as united as ever? This "dogtsa jigdril" point reiterated at every gathering is such an artificial point with no real-life reference. It’s also misused to obtain 100 % obedience on any topic. Whoever has a deviating opinion on anything is quickly running the risk of not being dogtsa jigdril and not following the wishes of His Holiness. The speeches were nothing more than the repetitive routine call for everyone to stay put in their place, try even harder to be even nicer, and obey even more - as if that would get us anywhere.

I don’t know what went through the others’ heads. My desperate thought was: “More of the same is not enough, not enough, not enough.”

Suddenly I remembered a new Tibetan music album from an India-Tibetan: I was so put off by the name regug - “waiting with hope” – I didn’t even bother listen to the CD. “Waiting with hope” summarizes our current mindset so well. We all wait and hope: for the Dalai Lama to sort things out for us, for the liberal forces in China to bring about political change for us, for third countries to pressure China for us. And as it was, even some people in the fine arts were waiting and hoping for better times.

Then my thoughts went back to the old men we were commemorating. What would they do? Slowly I noticed an essential oversight: The little success the Tibetan resistance had back in Tibet, was precisely because they were NOT waiting with hope but acting with resolve.

When the Chinese came to take control of our country, the official Tibetan position was to appease them – “waiting with hope” basically. In contrast, the people in the resistance trusted their own judgment and went for active defense – without endorsement from the top.

Is that why the government didn’t send a representative to attend the memorial service? Because you don’t honor disobedient, violent subjects? Because the government doesn’t want to jeopardize the chances of a negotiation break-through with China by associating with “counterrevolutionaries”? Because Chushi Gangdrug is a “Khampa thing” and the Tibetan government stands above petty little phayuls? Or could the government representative not attend, simply because he was ill or occupied with something else?

It's a co-incidence that Jamyang Norbu just published “High Mountain Elegy” as I am writing down my thoughts. We learn that even at that memorial service, there weren’t any Tibetan government representatives present. Instead, we learn that former CIA people, who trained the resistance fighters, organized the whole event and held the speeches of honor. It speaks in their favor because they don’t owe us anything, and it only adds to our government’s shame. The reactions to Jamyang Norbu’s article show clearly that people are upset about the government’s no show.

The "flaming sword" is the sword of wisdom Buddha Manjusri which severs the roots of ignorance. Picture: http://www.chushigangdruk.ca/index.html

It doesn’t look like the government has a position on the Four River Six Ranges at all. If they calculated that China will give them credit for ignoring Chushi Gangdrug, it’s miscalculated just as Ngapo’s obituary was a miscalculation. They made zero points on the foreign policy side through these actions, at the cost of alienating a lot of their own people all across the board.

If the government believes Chushi Gangdrug is a thing of our past, non-compatible with our current political style of peaceful resistance, and too regional for our pan-Tibetan outlook, they are ignoring that the freedom fighters are remembered even in Tibet today and by people who were born after the Cultural Revolution. The whole landscape tells the story of resistance, bravery and sacrifice:

Once after a long walk, we clueless greenhorns raised in faraway lands chose a scenic spot by a small alpine lake for a rest. “Although this is a beautiful spot, our people avoid this place,” our friends remarked, “there was a bloody battle here. Many good men were killed. Some tried to escape over the frozen lake, but the ice broke and they drowned with their horses.”

Suddenly at that lake-side, the fighting and bravery were no longer stories handed down by others, they appeared so real. I was standing on the very place they stood. I was breathing the very air they did. My blood froze. Our friends’ remembered. Their parents and grandparents had remembered even though times were much rougher when they were young.

Or take Pema from the Tibetan for kids story. The only time she mentioned her ex was when she saw a picture of Chushi Gangdrug soldiers in a book. She said “the children’s father’s uncle” was a famous freedom fighter hailing from Ganzi (shame on me, I can’t remember his name). The thing is: Pema grew up under the “new China”. There was no way she could have had access to the type of books we read. And still she was informed because in her family, too, they remembered, admired, and passed on.

So if our government’s intention behind cutting Chushi Gangdrug dead is to prevent regionalism, it’s not working. On the contrary, alienating people by not giving credit where credit is due seriously risks to increase regionalism.

At first, I regretted wasting time at this clumsy function. But then it turned out to be a real eye opener. It helped me realize a number of things.

Finally, it dawned on me why some contemporary Eastern Tibetans don’t fatigue in basking themselves in the glory of the freedom fighters. To them, it is a source of endless pride that the resistance movement arose in Dokham and was led by people from that area. Yes, it’s pathetic to try and associate yourself with something you haven’t even contributed to. But now I can understand that psychologically, it makes sense because resistance was the last honorable act from the Tibetan side within living memory. What followed has been nothing but a long row of humiliation: total defeat, escape, despair, and political self-mutilation all the way down to “waiting with hope”.

I also realized that while there wasn’t much the government could do to control the Tibetan resistance when they were still on native soil, later in India, the now Tibetan government-in exile became increasingly irritated by political dissent. They started to perceive Chushi Gangdrug as a threat to their power monopoly and began to exert pressure. In the name of unity, in the name of the Dalai Lama, in the name of non-violence: from this moment on, there was a break. The heroic freedom movement of old became an annoying, anachronistic relict of the past that could not be put to any good use for the future.

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Snow_Lion.svg

Don’t we have saying? When the snowlion descends from the mountain, he’s nothing more than an ordinary dog? It looks like that’s what happened to the Four Rivers Six Ranges. After they left Tibet, only ugly stories were circulating about them such as bullying villages, raping women, plotting to murder the Dalai Lama (!), and conspiring with Taiwan. All the glamour was gone.

Next, I realized that Chushi Gangdrug doesn’t just stand for a romanticized picture of courage vis-à-vis the external invader, it stands for genuine courage to stand up for one’s beliefs vis-à-vis anybody really, and if necessary even your own government. So those old men had a political maturity about them that made them very modern. They were truly free men at any point in time.

Didn’t His Holiness, who has always opposed violence, respect these upright men for their courage and integrity? He says so in “My land and my people”.

To be brutally honest, it’s the Dalai Lama who should have reacted. He should have sent a representative or a message. After all, Chushi Gangdrug was out to save him. They sacrificed for him. These are Andrugtshang’s entry lines in the book “Four Rivers, Six Ranges – a true account of Khampa resistance to the Chinese in Tibet”:

Dedication

My beloved leader,
His Holiness Tenzin Gyatso,
The Fourteenth Dalai Lama of Tibet;
My unselfish compatriots who gave their lives,
and
the coming generation of freedom fighters.

And read the lines at the end of the book:

May Lord Buddha bless my country and raise a new Tibet. And may his noblest representative on earth, the Dalai Lama, lead our people once again to freedom, peace and happiness.

Those lines say everything. For these guys, the Dalai Lama was the embodiment of everything that was dear to them: their country, their way of life, their faith, everything. The government was merely saved along with him.

So for us to pile up all the blame and shame in front of the government’s door is incorrect. We all know our government is weak and incompetent. Sadly, there is really nothing to expect from them. So picking on them without ever mentioning Kundun’s behavior in this matter is the same game as “Deconstructing Ngabo”. It’s bashing weaklings and useless. It’s the doggish approach.

If we are serious, we need the guts and the skill to take it up with those who are really in charge; we must take the matter to the Dalai Lama himself – in form of letters, e-mails, audience and conversation, whatever possibilities we have - and address it honestly and objectively. That would be the snowlion approach.

Finally came the smoke-offering to conclude the memorial service. Amidst a lot of smoke, we again recited something undiscerning and again my thoughts wandered off.

What’s the essential difference between a snowlion-person and a dog-person after all? Take a look at the Chushi Gangdrug emblem. The old men have put it down for us in the form of the two swords. It's the wisdom to recognize a problem correctly and the courage to act upon it with resolve. This is the legacy. We can continue to delve in the past and complain or we can strive to live as they have lived.

Arro-tso, I’d say the vibes are still going :--)

In memory of some great old men!
Mountain Phoenix

All written content on this blog is coyprighted. Please do not repost entire essays on your websites without seeking my prior written consent. 

Out Of Sync

My seven-year old participated in a Tibetan function the other day. It opened with the usual pomp: Drums, flutes, traditional costumes, huge flags, and a portrait of the Dalai Lama ceremonially placed on a throne; then all function owners gather on stage and sing the Gyelu, our beautiful national anthem.

I don’t know how many of these functions I’ve sat through since my own childhood – innumerable ones. Still, I can’t recall a single occasion where the Gyelu has failed to move me. Have you ever heard a more beautiful national anthem then the one of Tibet, our beloved homeland? Here is particularly graceful rendering of our Gyelu:

So when I saw my child standing on that stage, I realised it’s time to teach my kid the national anthem. For if there is one thing a patriot MUST know, then it’s how to sing the Gyelu with dignity and grace.

Well, the great thing coming out of this first: My child can sing the anthem now, every curve of the tune, with a crystal-clear pronunciation, without a single trace of a treacherous foreign accent to be detected, nor even intonation. My kid can even play the anthem on the flute and the piano. Bravo, chapeau!

At the same time, the child hasn’t asked me too much about the meaning, for which I’m really grateful. Here’s why:

While preparing to teach my kid, I realised that all these years, I had been singing the Gyelu like a parrot, not only ignorant of its meaning, but also without feeling the urge to learn what the words actually mean. Mea maxima culpa!

When I quickly wanted to fix this embarrassing gap in education, before my child could expose my inadequacy, I searched for a translation so I could convey the meaning. Only to discover in horror that the text of our sacred anthem turns out to be - excuse my language – crap! Check out this extract from Wikipedia:

Huh?

That doesn’t sound like the anthem of a country, that’s the hymn of an ideology! Our hymn glorifies Buddhism instead of Tibet. As far as I get it, the “Gye” in Gyelu stands for “country” (gyalkhab), correct? But the content makes it a “Nang-lu” - anthem of Dharma. It’s crazy. We got it all mixed up!

Reportedly some overzealous folks are propagating to have the anthem rewritten since it was texted by the late Kyabje Trijang Dorje Chang, junior tutor to His Holiness the Dalai Lama, whose reputation has become tainted due to his personal protector deity having been the these days disgraced Dorje Shugden. Well, the anthem definitely needs to be rewritten, I can’t agree more, but for another reason: It needs to be rewritten because it puts religious ideology in the place that appertains to our country. It basically claims our country is Buddhism.

The line which personally makes me the most uncomfortable is the one glorifying the antiquated system of religion-cum-politics-combined:

May a new golden age of happiness and bliss spread
throughout the three provinces of Tibet
and the glory expand of religious-secular rule.

We sing these lines on every important occasion and with all our heart. But how can we continue to praise a system that has proven to be unfit to handle the requirements of the modern world? This form of government has not served us well in the past for it was unable to interpret the signs of the times, unable to make the right decisions, unable to prevent the Chinese takeover. And it is not serving us well in the present either for the governing Lamas make our secular politicians look like little kids who constantly need to be told what to do next.

Look at the mindset our anthem reflects and then say we’re democratic. Who are we kidding? How can we even think to have democracy without secularisation?

Just for the record: I’m not criticising the Dharma, nor the composer. I just think he was the wrong person to go to for the anthem. What can you expect? Dharma is a Lama’s worldview. No wonder did we end up with the anthem we have, an anthem that mixes apples and oranges, that praises religious rule and relegates our country to the second line. But it’s not the composer’s fault, it’s ours.

We say we are a democracy. We say religion and politics should be separated. Everyone is full of praise for the “Amdo madman” Gedun Choephel, who said about our political system: “If you mix salt and sugar, how can that possibly result in palatable food?”

But our anthem unmistakably shows us once more: We Tibetans are completely out of sync. There is a huge disconnect between what we say and how we actually tick.

Since we’re oh so engrossed with Buddhism, maybe it helps to recall the famous line from the Heart Sutra: Zug tongpa ‘o, tongpanyid zug so. We are trapped to systematically cherish the first part, “form is emptiness”, and slight the second, “emptiness is form”. We value Buddhism so much that we constantly dismiss the equal importance of the “conventional” realm.


We lost our country over this fatal prejudice, but shockingly, we still haven’t become any smarter. We still go on the old way, we still praise religion and slight the secular. We still can’t find the strength to reform our worldview and our political system. We even stole the national anthem from our country and gave it to our religion.

Buddhism is important for our identity and it rightly holds a special place in our hearts. But Tibet is just as important. We haven’t done our country justice. A first step to get back in sync is to give our country a Gyelu that is worth the name.

Tongpanyid zug zo!
Mountain Phoenix



















All written content on this blog is coyprighted. Please do not repost entire essays on your websites without seeking my prior written consent. 

Thoughts On Jamyang Norbu’s “Deconstructing Ngabo”

In 1980 when this article was first published, I was a clueless kid. But republished in 2010, with Mountain Phoenix grown into a big girl, she heeded the author’s recommendation and took a close look at this picture that makes Jamyang Norbu’s stomach churn.


Strange how people can tick differently about one and the same thing: Because what I feel is not revulsion at all, it’s nostalgia! - Isn’t that strange?

I can assure you it’s not because of Ngabo. I had to look really close to even detect him in the group. Instead, my attention went straight to the late Panchen Lama because he was our bridge to the other side. Since his passing, no leader has been able to fill the void. Those were also the times when – unlike now - both sides were at least talking, leaving political allegiances aside. That’s what made me nostalgic.

Who cares about Ngabo?

He didn’t do anything positive worth remembering. His first and foremost concern was his own survival, without having to do much for it. Already back in the old days, it had been the prerogative of people with his class background to hold high office without doing much. All the guy did was making sure that didn’t change after he switched sides, so what’s the big deal?

That spineless submissiveness that incenses Jamyang Norbu in the article, is symptomatic of our political culture even to this day. He says it himself. So over what exactly should our stomachs churn?

Sure, we can always argue that Ngabo overdid it. But hey, the way I see it, the guy only sticks out because of historical circumstances and the role that fell to him: Bad luck that, he of all people, got the job in Kham where the Chinese happened to show up first.

Now Dharamsala’s eulogy is absurd, no issues with that. It makes Ngabo bigger than he ever was in real life. But Jamyang Norbu then goes on to make him even bigger, by digging out an article that was thrown at us thirty years ago – with the rest of us padding him on the shoulder over how well he’s taught Dharamsala a lesson.

Folks, we know so well that in our political culture, holding a high post still doesn’t mean anything of substance, such as having a vision or an agenda. So how come we expect a Ngabo to exhibit backbone? Give the guy a break. He’s dead! - Deconstructing Ngabo is a real no-brainer.

Instead of wasting time deconstructing someone so weak and vulnerable, we’d better be constructive checking out those leaders from whom we can expect to learn something, so we can move forward in the political discussion.

In this context, Bapa Phuntsog Wangyal deserves a second look because commoners never ran the show in the old days. That used to be the stage reserved for religious leaders and aristocrats.

Phuntsog Wangyal came from a farmer's background in some faraway corner at the end of Tibet, nothing exceptional. What distinguishes him from the crowd though, is that he followed what went on in the world around him, and became convinced that Tibet, too, needed to change. He saw back then that our political system was unfit to tackle the problems of the modern world. Most notably, the man was not just ideas. He let actions follow.

He went to Lhasa to test the water for a Tibetan communist movement, because for him Communism was the answer for a modern, egalitarian Tibet. He tried to convince people in the government that our political system was outdated, and we needed to do something about it.

When he fell on deaf ears in Lhasa, he could have walked away from it all. But the guy persisted and started to look outside, first trying the Soviets to help set up a Tibetan communist movement, and only when that failed, did he turn to the Chinese.

Let’s forget about the act of treason for one second. Just reflect on this guy from out of nowhere deciding to go to the capital believing he could change the Tibetan political system. - Tibet was a class society with a government enamored in its own world. For a regular guy to do that, it took not only farsightedness and courage, it took tons of self-confidence.

That’s the remarkable feature about Phuntsog Wangyal, an average Tibetan like you and me: He didn’t just sit there waiting for our Lamas or the Tibetan government to sort things out. He took matters into his own hands. He didn’t just call out for political change, he actively made change happen.

Yes, he ended up in the wrong camp; and yes, his venture failed completely. He is the big time loser out of the three collaborators. In the end, even the Chinese didn’t trust him because to them, he was more a Tibetan nationalist than a loyal communist. They threw him into prison for 18 years. After he reemerged, they still wouldn’t give him a post of any significance.

In retrospect, his biggest failing was his naïveté in believing the Chinese communists would help develop Tibet and then withdraw. But even there: Nobody could foresee how Chinese communism would unfold in practice. The movement was young in China to say the least.

So my bottom line is: Even though he stands on the other side with different ideas, we folks today can take a leaf from his book as far as audacity is concerned. Especially at this time, with the talks going nowhere and an awkward Kalon Tripa search, we desperately need leaders who can inspire and are bold enough to follow through.

Jamyang Norbu’s bottom-line is: “Yeah, whatever you apologetics say, but there is a limit and who ever passes it, is a traitor. Full stop.”

I would wish an opinion leader like Jamyang Norbu would move the discussion forward and go beyond bashing weaklings or questioning people’s patriotism.

It’s desperate enough as it is. Our Mission Impossible envoys have just returned with empty hands from another humiliating round, and it’s plain to see that we’re back to square one. More “deconstruction” will only make sure we’ll stay there, so let's avoid it like the plague!

Long live Tibet!
Mountain Phoenix


All written content on this blog is coyprighted. Please do not repost entire essays on your websites without seeking my prior written consent. 

Who Will Be Our Next Prime Minister?

We clearly missed the opportunity for political reform in the November meeting in Dharamsala last year. Now we are getting ready to elect a new Prime Minister in 2011 under the same outdated system Tibet has had for centuries, which does not distinguish between the secular and the religious.

Leaving aside the essential question of how effective a Prime or any Minister can be in such a system, people are all getting worked up about the profile of the new Prime Minister: The new person should be “young”, should be “a woman”, should be “educated” and what not.

I’m struck though that the primary criteria people seemed to look for in a candidate, was knowledge of how to deal with the West in order to promote the Tibetan cause.

I couldn’t disagree more here.

The main concentration of our political work in the last 50 years was exactly on lobbying the Western countries to pressure China for concessions on Tibet. This strategy has not worked the way we would have liked to see. We should learn from this and adapt. We should go about solving our problems more directly, without relying too much on third party involvement.

It doesn’t mean we should stop lobbying the West, but it’s a strategic mistake to continue to put all our eggs in one basket.

Our problem is with China. So first and foremost we need a PM who can deal with China. We need someone who is intimately familiar with China and has the focus on China with everything else flowing from there. It should be someone who is at ease in the Chinese presence, confident enough to deal with them eye-to-eye. China-fit should be our killer criterion.

Technically, the PM should be someone who, while firmly rooted in Tibetan culture and with the ability to directly communicate with the people both in- and outside of Tibet, at the same time, has an affinity for Chinese culture, speaks that language with ease and is familiar with that system. In other words, it has to be a person that is perceived by both the Tibetans and the Chinese government as “one of us”.

Just in case this sounds extreme, it really shouldn’t.

Because that’s what the middle path boils down to, if we implement it. The middle path says, internally we’re autonomous, externally we’re under China. Fact is more than 75 % of the exile voting populace backed the middle path. So we’d better start to walk the talk and get used to think of ourselves as PRC citizens – Tibetan by ethnicity, but PRC citizens nevertheless.

In addition to being “China-fit”, our candidate should also be superior in stature to those no names from the United Front which His Holiness’ envoys have been fobbed off with for the longest time. For there to be real progress, we need to elect someone the Chinese government can take seriously.

The people whose names are in discussion as candidates in the phayul forum or on kalontripa.org will do their best and have the sincerest intentions, no shadow of a doubt. But to tell you the truth: No amount of dedication and commitment will replace what has got to be our killer criterion: “China-fit”.

You can be the best driver in the whole world. You still won’t win the Monaco Grand Prix if what you’re riding is a truck.

So “China-fit” must be our killer criterion.

This requirement already disqualifies a lot of the potential candidates whose names are now circulating.

For one, it can’t be a member of the Sangha. Looking at it from Chinese side, Lamas are their number one concept of the enemy. Looking at it from the Tibetan side, politics is not a Lama-job either. There is no good reason on either side to appoint a Lama.

Next, any of the old boys and girls from the exile establishment: Lodi Gyari, Kelsang Gyaltsen, Dolma Gyari, Bhuchung K. Tsering. Kasur-this-and-that, former Reps etc, are not the right fit either. They live up to the expectations of a large part of the exile-Tibetan constituency (“experienced”, “cultured”, “loyal”, “woman”), but in the Chinese context, they are too much “the Dalai Lama’s messengers”. They don’t have an independent profile or the stature it takes to shape policy and handle China. And, most of all, they all lack the killer criterion as they were brought up too far away from Chinese culture.

Even the Harvard lawyer, Dr Lobsang Sangay, won’t do. His work is important and we need good lawyers. But our problem is not legal, it’s political. It cannot be resolved in a court of law. It can only be resolved in the political arena with China and within Chinese law. In the world of Realpolitik, the international legal case is little more than a side-argument. But more important, would this person fulfil the killer criterion? From what I’ve seen and heard, he’s not our man either.

Then we have an interesting group of new, younger leaders such as Lhadon Tethong of SFT. I would love to see someone like her as the Tibetan ambassador to North America. She would project a modern, young, gender-neutral, progressive, secular, and open image of our exile administration. If I were Dharamsala I would offer her the job as the Head of the Office of Tibet in that region, and give her the formal authority to boost her excellent PR work. But she’s not the right fit for the PM job. Remember the killer criterion.

So who’s left? Don’t we have any China-fit PM candidates who are reminiscent of Sino-Tibetan cultural hybrids like Bapa Phuntsog Wangyal or Gyalo Thondup, but who are not in the wrong camp, not related to the Dalai Lama, and not on the verge of senile decay?

At the very least, the new PM should have a higher profile than the incumbent Samdong Tulku. It’s still been the Dalai Lama doing all the touring, meeting all the government leaders and politicians. I bet you nobody even remembers our Prime Minister’s name, let alone is aware we have one.

Maybe it’s because the Dalai Lama’s Private Office wants to control everything as Jamyang Norbu suggests in an article. Or it’s because Samdong Rinpoche is a traditional guy who wants the Dalai Lama to control everything. Who knows? Whatever the reason, the political result is a disaster.

The question is: Do we want the distribution of power and the working relationship between Dalai Lama and Silön to resemble that of the British Queen and her Prime Minister, or that of Putin and Medvedev? You agree we’re not only way closer to the Russians on this one, but we surpass them by far.

I don’t know, have all the Silöns in Tibetan history been limited to managing the Kalons and warming up messages from the Dalai Lama? Have you also wondered what is expected from a contemporary Tibetan Prime Minister? Has anyone seen a job description for the position somewhere? Does the post have any foreign policy relevance at all?

When I heard “panel discussion” about the new PM, I thought there would be several people discussing rather than two automats delivering incoherent one-way messages. In the “panel discussion” on phayul.com from 20 June 2009, half of the time is wasted with lecturing the people about the difficult situation in Tibet - as if we didn’t know!

The other half is used to explain what the Prime Minister’s job is. But what they failed to do is connect the two parts: No explanation how doing the PM job would improve the difficult situation in Tibet. All the while, Samdong Tulku is wiping his face with a huge orange cloth, looking like he either just got out of or is preparing to go to bed. Sorry, did I just intrude here?

Actually the incumbent PM shouldn’t have to say anything about his successor in the first place, but what all these discussions among the expats about the new PM show is not only the alarming shortage of capable leaders in our midst. It’s also showing the fundamental problem in our political system and that is – we all know it inside out - the mix of religion and politics.

So in this context, it’s unfair to expect the Prime Minister to fix our problems, when a) there’s someone overpowering at the top who has very clear ideas of where Tibet should go, and b) we have the ingrained habit of looking for implicit approval and endorsement from the top. That’s the way we function.

Our biggest problem, even bigger than getting back Tibetan independence, is that we are incapable of emancipating ourselves from divine rule. We just can’t let go of the Dalai Lama, we love him too much. We probably think a terrible karmic revenge would befall us if we politely asked him to withdraw from politics.

But as long as we are unable to separate the religious sphere from the secular, it won’t make a difference who we choose as our next Prime Minister, they will all be the same: Ineffective automats with no relevance to the outside world.

Look at China: This month they are celebrating 60 years since the foundation of the new China. Whatever faults there are with their system, and the world knows there a lot, but at least they were strong enough to leave the old ways behind and walk new paths as a people. The world including the Tibetans can accuse China of many wrong-doings, but not for inactivity.

When was the last time that we, the Tibetan people, took destiny into our own hands?

I’m afraid we have to go back over a thousand years to find something of similar magnitude in our history: During Langdarma’s reign when Buddhism was almost annihilated in the central areas, it was only due to enormous efforts of the Guge kings Yeshi and Jangchub Ö that a Buddhist renaissance could take place. Where would Tibetan Buddhism be today if the two had not sacrificed so much to get the Indian Atisha Dipamkara to come to Tibet and fix things? We owe these guys big time.

Something of this magnitude must now happen on the political level and in our times. Nothing less will do to save us from decline. Whether we get what we want or end up getting what we deserve, will depend on whether we can replicate the boldness, fearlessness, and farsightedness of our forefathers.

Long live Tibet!
Mountain Phoenix



All written content on this blog is coyprighted. Please do not repost entire essays on your websites without seeking my prior written consent. 

Making It Through The Next Round

For the Tibetans at home and abroad, 10 March symbolises one of the saddest events in recent history. On 10 March 1959 the Tibetan uprising against Chinese rule failed. Subsequently, the young Dalai Lama and the ruling elite went into exile to India. This year we are commemorating our defeat for the 50th time – half a century!

The Chinese government, on the other hand, in a euphemistic move reminiscent of the Cultural Revolution, declared a “Serf Emancipation Day”, and ordered the Tibetans to be happy and celebrate it.

I can hear you say “this is sick and they have no shame” - as if we don’t know already.

When the Chinese invaded our country half a century ago, they hit the perplexed Tibetans on one cheek. And when the Tibetans offered them the other cheek by accepting Chinese sovereignty in exchange for local autonomy, the Chinese hit the other cheek too.

Still, we keep bouncing back, because if there is one thing in this unequal fight that we are better at than them, I’d say it’s stubbornness.

Under Mao, the Tibetans had to be as quiet as a mouse, the only goal being the naked survival of the race. Still over a million are said to have died as a result of the political craze. After Mao came Deng, who declared many of the previous policies as too extreme; there was a careful rapprochement between both sides with Dharamsala sending three “fact-finding missions” to Tibet. For a short time, there was a glimmer of hope for a bilaterally satisfying solution.

But then Deng died before anything tangible on Tibetan issue could evolve and his most promising successors, Hu Yaobang and Zhao Ziyang, disappeared faster than we could say Tashi Deleg.

Jiang, who emerged as the prime leader, didn’t intend to carry on his predecessor’s Tibet work, and today with Hu as the prime minister, the Tibet hardliners are back in charge. As far as this leadership is concerned, there’s nothing to talk about. We could be talking to a wall, the result would be the same, it’s “the long and winding road”.

So after fifty years of struggle, we find ourselves badly wounded and without any political progress worth mentioning. Yet to us, what counts is that we’re still standing, and that we’re still determined to give them hell because we have no doubt that our stubbornness will outlast their rigidity.

Hopefully, we’re also growing smarter after each round?

If so, we should be asking ourselves what to expect in the next round after Hu and how to prepare, rather than gloating over sideshows, which have been a repetitive hang-up since the days I can remember.

Don’t know what I mean?

A recent sideshow was pressuring each other into not celebrating the Tibetan new year.

It makes perfect sense not to celebrate if you are on Tibetan soil, because it gives a clear message to those in power in our land. But we folks abroad overdid it with our solidarity with the most extreme ones among us discouraging others from baking Khabsé (new year cookies) or sending ridiculous “no Losar” greeting cards to each other.

Wasn’t it agreed not to hold lavish festivities out of respect for the compatriots who suffered directly or indirectly as a result of the crack-down last year? What’s lavish about a stupid Khabsé? Why do some of us always permit themselves to miss the point?

Another sideshow, albeit of monumental proportions, has been the surreal move to eradicate “demon worshippers” in our midst. It’s been an evergreen since the mid-1990 with the gruesome prospect of continued intensity.
.
A sideshow of the 1980s I vaguely remember is the “Taiwan payroll” fuss which culminated in inciting each other to mob those compatriots, institutions, and organisations who were alleged “Taiwan salary receivers” (Taiwan phok zakhen). Only after relations with Taiwan normalised with a representative office of the Dalai Lama opening in Taipeh, the witch-hunt subsided.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the 1970s and 1960s also had their share of sideshows. I’m probably just not old enough to remember.

Looks to me like sideshows have been a favourite hang-out of the Tibetans abroad.

Too bad for us though, they always seem to aim against something - usually ourselves - and almost always unfold as a compulsory exercise taking on a self-destructive dimension. The political impact of these supposedly “patriotic” actions vis-à-vis China has always been zero.

Makes me think of what the old days in Tibet must have been like when one part of the ruling elite was consumed with getting mentally ready for life beyond this one, and the other half spent most of their time picnicking and intriguing.

We paid a high price for not getting our national priorities right. We should always remember that the failure was colossal: It made the Chinese grab possible in the very first place.

Since then, the following generations - folks like you and me - have been desperately trying to mitigate the damage. The last thing I’d want is for my kids to blame me for not having done enough to win our country back because I was engrossed in “no Losar” battles and the likes.

That’s exactly why on this 50th anniversary of Tibet being run by a foreign power, those among us who are seriously committed to political progress, must renew their focus on developing long-term plans on how to cope with that challenge. That’s the big picture. Everything should flow from here. Whoever is seriously pursuing the long-term goals won’t have time left for senseless distractions in some self-lacerating sideshow.

There are a number of ways in which regular people like us can contribute to political progress in a strategic way. We must not wait for Dharamsala and Beijing. We are free to act on a personal level - the guerilla way.

The one crucial area we have been neglecting in the past is Chinese public opinion. A lot has been achieved in influencing Western public opinion, but the ones who make the difference for us are the Chinese. Only they can change themselves. No one else can make them change. That’s the lesson learned from 50 years of lobbying the West to pressure China into cooperation. That doesn’t mean we have to stop lobbying the West. That work must continue. But we must increase our efforts to systematically lobby the enemy and turn him into a friend.

phayul.com carried a story published in the The Times Online on 18 March 2009 about young Tibetans blogging in Chinese social networking sites with the aim to change Chinese attitudes. That’s an excellent example of a guerrilla tactic in the age of the internet.

Another superb way to influence Chinese public opinion is indirectly via the Buddha Dharma. By now, we have so many Dharma centres all over the Chinese-speaking world: Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia, Hong Kong. These serve as discrete cultural change agents. The Lamas heading these centres don’t have to do anything different from what they already do. No hidden agenda. No politics. Just keep on with the pure Dharma as you have. That will work wonders on the Chinese mindset.

We can already observe spill-over effects into the mainland today: My monk-cousin from Tibet regularly visits students and benefactors in Shenzhen and other Chinese cities. He keeps telling me these rgya (Chinese) really appreciate the Buddha Dharma and by extension also Tibetan culture and that they do a lot on an individual level to help Tibetans by funding schools and donating to monasteries.

Also, remember Larung Gar? A lot of those students were from the mainland. The government destroyed their quarters and chased them away, but they are there still in China, and they are for sure remembering the kindness of their Lama and waiting for a better time to become supportive again.

What we as individuals can do to facilitate the beneficial political side-effect of the Dharma centres is to help organise financial support, or if you are spiritually inclined, join one and help with the management to support their work.

It’s only a matter of time until the Chinese mainstream will realise that our Lamas are not “sucking the blood of the people” as the government wants them to believe. Those obsessed chauvinist folks who pester internet forums with their hatred do not represent the average opinion in China, I am convinced. Normal people don’t hang out in internet forums. Normal people tackle problems in real life.

In Tibet proper, the civil rights or disobedience movement has enormous potential. Woeser is a good example. She is one courageous woman. Many more like her will be emerging all over the highlands. What we can do from here to support people like Woeser is to help spread reports about her activities by using modern information technology.

The more she is known abroad and in China proper, the better she is protected from arbitrary treatment by the authorities. To this day, they have not dared to harm her although she has been extraordinarily outspoken. They restrict her movement, but that’s been about it unlike some of those desperate and unfortunate no-name rural protestors in Lithang or Ganzi of late.

Also powerful are grass roots movements such as the farming boycott reported in Lithang and Dartsedo/Kangding lately. Those must be a real embarrassment to the Chinese authorities who claim that the majority of the former “serfs” are very happy under China.

Or imagine folks deciding to boycott industrially processed salt from the Chinese and instead, decide to walk to the Changthang to get their own Tibetan salt, like Gandhi. Imagine the power of the symbolism. This is not just my crazy idea. It could really happen. First only a few families would travel to the Northern Plains, but more would follow. Eventually, it would become a movement, just like the farming boycott.

The more we talk about these campaigns, the more people will learn about them and apply similar techniques also in other areas. Over time, people’s civil rights consciousness becomes stronger. People will get a clearer idea of how far they can go without putting their heads on the line. This type of resistance is also very much in line with the Tibetan core value of non-violence. It’s our turf. It’s guerilla warfare based on our preference.

Another important area to work on for a direct impact is ourselves. Because we don’t know how long the next round is going to last, we’d better prepare ourselves to endure. So any measure to strengthen the Tibetan identity counts.

While we study hard and work tirelessly to successfully integrate into the culture of our host-country or the larger culture, at the same time, we must systematically strive to keep our Tibetan identity alive, strengthen and innovate it. That’s valid for all of us, whether we live abroad or in Tibet among the Chinese.

We must also intensify communication between those abroad and those at home. We can engage in many projects by circumventing the politics and focusing on what is of immediate relevance: Decent jobs, a good education for the children, adequate housing, language, religion, environment, and civil rights. Tons of non-confrontational project ideas with a direct impact on our folks!

What we need are bold and creative folks who are not frightened off by government bureaucracy and arbitrariness or get discouraged because everyone around you speaks Chinese. All those who don’t just want to sit there and wait for Dharamsala and Beijing to sort it out, this is our battlefield.

While “guerrilla warfare” prepares ourselves to cope with the worst, at the same time, we must stay alert for the unexpected.

Our dream could suddenly become true - sooner than we may think - with things going out of control in China and a new, more receptive type of political leadership emerging. For this we should be prepared. Dharamsala should be prepared. That’s when the big players come back into the picture.

I hope they have scenarios worked out and how to push our agenda. It’s going to be a crucial point in our country’s relationship with China. Maybe the chance of a life-time.

The worst thing that could happen to us then? - Dharamsala caught unprepared because they’ve been hung up on some sideshows that are going on.

We, the Tibetan people, must proactively prevent that by boycotting them altogether and asking those who are supposed to represent our common interest to focus on the beef.

Stubborn greeetings:-)
Mountain Phoenix



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