The Spirit That I Called - Dorje Shugden And The Unresolved Political History Of The Gelugpas

"From the spirits that I called, Sir, deliver me!"

Unlike in The Sorcerer's Apprenctice, in the Dorje

Shugden story nobody is coming to the rescue.

All hell has broken loose since the 14^th Dalai Lama has announced that there is sectarian spirit worship in the Gelug order, the Buddhist school that traditionally underpinned the Tibetan state and instituted Dalai Lamas as heads of government for the last five hundred years. It is also the order that prides itself on its debating skills, its emphasis on ethics and logic, and its combination of study and meditation. In the current dispute however, there is no skillful debate to be detected, nor ethics or logic. Neither side studies the arguments of the other, let alone meditates on their position! What one side says the other listens selectively, focusing only on what confirms their own prejudice. Entangled in the polemics of the blame game, there is no analysis taking place and no big picture emerging.

Where should one start to understand the reasons for this archaic conflict over an invisible thing? Rather than going away any time soon, the topic is driving a wedge between people, leaving nothing but losers across the board with His Holiness the Dalai Lama's image suffering, the Gelugpa order in disarray, insecure practitioners and social peace shattered. With the spread of Tibetan Buddhism to the West, it's no longer an internal issue either. There must be a way to understand it in a manner that makes sense.

In the past, it was unthinkable that Tibetans in the free world would join protests exclaiming, "False Dalai Lama, stop lying!" as some are heard shouting during his recent visits to Western countries. It was inconceivable that Tibetans would try to take a Dalai Lama to court for violating their religious rights, as some in India did. I am glad my grandparents didn't live to witness these developments. The rift runs deep leading all the way into Tibet where it splits age-old communities and families. What caused such a drastic estrangement?

Before this dispute, no Tibetan ever questioned the Dalai Lama's fundamental integrity. After he had been to Strasbourg in 1988 to present his Five-Point Peace Plan to members of the European Parliament, for example, nobody was seen demonstrating or attempting to take him to court, even though he single-handedly sacrificed regaining independence as the goal of the political struggle. An elected leader of another country may have been ousted from office over such highhandedness and perhaps even put on trial for high treason. But as far as his people are concerned, the Dalai Lama never faced any kind of scrutiny. Many had a hard time letting go the dream of an independent country. In the end, they put his wish above their own heart's desire. In my eyes, this emotional sacrifice underscores the extent of the Tibetans' trust in the Dalai Lama. Regardless of any autocratic tendencies, their devotion to him has always been unconditional.

The decision to remove Dorje Shugden from the Gelug pantheon was similarly high-handed. While it affects only a part of the community, it has met with resistance. This decision was not about replacing one political idea with another, such as independence with autonomy, with the Chinese running the show irrespective of Tibetan requests. On the one hand, it had a concrete effect on people's private practice: Suddenly their religious orientation drew public criticism from the highest level. On the other hand, the Dalai Lama's negative assessment of Dorje Shugden also had implications for the Gelugpa teachings in general: Propitiating this "spirit" was passed down by lineage masters held in the highest esteem. This last one in my view, is crucial for the dissonance coming from within the Dalai Lama's own ranks. Therefore I will look at it in a bit more detail.

Tibetan tsa-rgyu bla-ma or root and lineage masters derive their authority to transmit Buddhist teachings based on the belief that they gained irrevocable insight into the ultimate truth. In other words, such masters are considered enlightened. It shows for example in the way people address them by putting Kyabje in front of their names, which means "Lord of Refuge". These enlightened lineage holders thus pass the teaching from one to the next with the line traceable all the way back to the historical Buddha himself. Tibet has brought forth four such main lineages through which the Dharma has been transmitted in this fashion. One of them is the Gelugpa lineage, the others being Nyingma, Kagyu and Sakya, as is well known.

If some Gelugpa masters of this caliber were now hoodwinked by a "spirit", had a sectarian bias, or even engaged in missionising and forced conversion, as is sometimes alleged, they couldn't possibly have been enlightened at the same time? And if they weren’t, then the conclusion can only be that the transmission was invalid: These root and lineage holders were charlatans and hundreds if not thousands followed an erroneous path. The criticism of Dorje Shugden being a sectarian spirit can thus be perceived as ultimately threatening the legitimacy of the Gelugpa transmission. This interpretation is the likelier cause for the current falling-out rather than political instigation by China using pecuniary means to damage the image of the Dalai Lama, as is sometimes claimed. When Tibetans are prepared to sacrifice their independence for the Dalai Lama, what difference could Chinese mammon make? What we in fact have is a fundamental disagreement about the nature of Dorje Shugden and the related consequences for the Gelugpa lineage.

What then should one understand by "the nature" of Dorje Shugden? Who or what is this thing? Basically there are two allegations hanging in the air: That he is a "spirit" and therefore not a proper Buddhist deity, and that he is sectarian and therefore socially divisive. Although officially only worshipped by a minority, the guy seems to spell enough trouble both on religious and political grounds that it's deemed necessary to remove him from public life. So let's take a look at both allegations one after the other.

There are plenty of stories of how Dorje Shugden "arose" and who he "was" in previous lives. The interpretations vary greatly based on which side of the conflict one stands. For a general understanding however, we can ignore the details because we are moving about in Tantrayana where abstruse-sounding details abound. Once we get an idea of the peculiarity of the Tantrayana, we can also follow why Theravadans may think, what the Tibetans are doing is not Buddhism at all. And we will also understand why Tibetan masters generally advise students to keep their tantric practice to themselves: The Tantrayana involves a type of mindset which - mildly put - requires getting used to. When someone has to keep justifying himself for propitiating a "spirit" for example, he will never get around to acting upon his Bodhisattva vow and help others. People will start to have negative thoughts which can create unwholesome karma for them, and that's not exactly what an aspiring Bodhisattva should encourage. That's why it's recommended not to talk about the technique in the first place. What the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over. But since the Dorje Shugden practice has been exposed to the public, we need to look at it in a bit more depth in order to understand the nature of the conflict without getting entangled in its polemics.

For our type of discussion, it is important to look at the issue in the cold light of day without getting distracted by fantastic but irrelevant details. It is important to look based on universally accepted Buddhist tenets, such as the inherently empty nature of all phenomena. These cannot suddenly become invalid when moving about in a tantric context. Having said that, it is necessary to take a generic look at the category of protector deities or Dharmapalas (Tibetan: srungma) in order to have a reference point from where to start our reflections. Since their ancestors opted for the Tantrayana, Tibetans owe it to themselves to understand Dharmapalas at least at a conceptual level.

To make sure everyone is on the same page: The foundation of the Tibetan Buddhist practice is the same as in Theravada; practitioners work to transform their thoughts, speech and actions to become ethical in order to avoid rebirth in lower realms and stop perpetuating the samsaric cycle. In addition, as adherents of the Mahayana pursuing the Bodhisattva ideal, Tibetan Buddhists strive to develop wisdom and compassion – not to become great saints, but to make themselves the best they can be in order to help others. To achieve this goal, practitioners use various meditation techniques, do specific retreats, recite Mantras and take special vows as recommended by the Lama under whom they are studying.  To intensify their efforts, some then move on to tantric meditations around the trio consisting of Lama (Guru Yoga), Yidam (deity meditation) and Sungma (Dharmapala propitiation). The function of a Dharmapala is to protect dedicated lay and ordained practitioners from any obstacles that may occur on the path to transform one's ordinary body, speech and mind into those of an enlightened being.

Some Dharmapalas arose from hostile pagan spirits of pre-Buddhist Tibet and were converted by great masters of the past to protect the Buddhist teaching, it is said; then there are fantastic stories of Dharmapalas "recruited" from the Devas and Bodhisattvas; to complicate the concept, some protector deities are said to possess Buddha nature as the Three Jewels, not at all of inferior status assigned to do a lowly job as guards, as their form would suggest. And not enough: Enlightened masters, it is said, can also manifest as Dharmapalas; out of their great compassion, they make themselves available beyond their physical death, so to speak, so that practitioners can ask them for guidance via a medium. This in short, is the wondrous world of Dharmapalas as I have come to understand.

Generally speaking Dharmapalas are neither a main practice nor do all practitioners propitiate them by reciting these specific prayers and making offerings. The main practice consists of working towards directly experiencing Emptiness and cultivating stable Bodhicitta. Nevertheless, Dharmapalas must have their legitimacy for they also appear in the Field of Merit or tsog-shing, which lists the "Who's Who" of a Tibetan Buddhist school and serves as a source of inspiriation for practitioners. Shown in the Field of Merit of each school are the people who were instrumental in transmitting the Dharma in this specific lineage. Alongside the root and lineage Lamas, there are meditation deities, Bodhisattvas and Arhats,  as well as Dharmapalas (chos-skyong, srung-ma) all of whom the practitioner is supposed to visualise as being formed by rays of light coming of Buddha Shakyamuni's heart. The message is that all these people and objects in the Field of Merit are of the exact same nature as the Buddha himself and not a separate, anonymous crowd. They are a practitioner's "divine friends" who help getting ahead on the path to enlightenment. To cut a long story short, from their inclusion in the Field of Merit it follows that generally speaking Dharmapalas can be of the same nature as Buddha and qualify as objects of refuge.

The crunch question is of course whether Dorje Shugden can be considered as one of these "enlightened Dharmapalas". The Dalai Lama clearly says no. He has repeatedly stated that Dorje Shugden is a divisive spirit whose worship results in a number of negative outcomes. As evidence, he cites his own experience, which also goes back into previous reincarnations. Those with great faith in the Dalai Lama, considering him their main spiritual guide, have accepted his view without further ado. From a secular standpoint it may seem immature and submissive, but from a Buddhist practitioner's position, it must be deemed okay: There are those, who advance on the path by working mainly with their faith. As long as behaviour remains ethical, there is no need to go into laborious explanations as to why one decides to follow one's Lama's advice, that's my understanding.

Then there are those who try to advance on the path by working more with their "wisdom mind". If we belong to this group, we must aim at a correctly derived analysis based on objectivity or non-attachment, above everything else. Aggravating the analysis in this specific case is that the person raising the doubts is the Dalai Lama. In Tibetan circles, there is a heavy dose of lèse majesté with regard to this issue. The topic is deemed too hot to handle with everyone preferring conspiracy theories and walking on eggshells in order not to compromise him. However, if we investigate the issue undeterred, we may first bring to mind the fundamental Buddhist principle of the so-called "inherently empty nature of phenomena" as Buddha Gautama proclaimed in the third seal of the fundamental "Four Great Seals of the Dharma". A popular association would be the story of a son who gives his old mother a dogtooth pretending it's a relic of the Buddha; wholeheartedly believing him, the mother worships it and eventually gains genuine spiritual insights from it. If a dogtooth had the inherent nature of just a dogtooth, the old lady would not have been able to produce such a result. Her attitude and motivation made all the difference. Many Tibetans are familiar with this story and its line of argument: The object of veneration is as holy or unholy as the mind of the venerator.

When we accord the insight of the inherently empty nature of phenomena to Dorje Shugden, it explains why some can say full of conviction that he is a manifestation of Buddha Manjushri. At the same time, the guy has absolutely no relevance to uninvolved onlookers because it's WYSIWYG - what you see is what you get. Tibetans are unlikely to knowingly worship a "spirit" because as Buddhists they know it's pointless to go for refuge in an object that is not a representation of the Three Jewels. But they cannot be unknowingly worshipping a spirit either because that would amount to Dorje Shugden having the inherent nature of a spirit, which blatantly contradicts the principle of the emptiness of all phenomena. My conclusion is therefore that for his adherents, Dorje Shugden must be a bona fide object of refuge, a so-called "enlightened Dharmapala" of the same nature as a Buddha.

But how can we explain that when His Holiness the Dalai Lama looks at Dorje Shugden, he sees a divisive spirit? An answer is found in the systemic nature of the institution of Dalai Lamas: They are recruited from the Gelugpa order exclusively, but their function differs greatly from that of its other Lamas because the person who serves as Dalai Lama, the Gyalwa Tulku, has also served as the head of the government and as such is the leader of all Tibetans, not just Gelugpas. While the sole responsibility of regular Gelugpa Lamas consists of ensuring that the spiritual lineage is passed on from one generation to the next, the responsibility of a Dalai Lama, above all, is to look after the welfare of the Tibetan people as a whole. His task is thus by definition political. By systemic default, Dalai Lamas wear two hats – one religious, i. e. Gelug Lama, the other political, i. e. head of state and government. If they want to serve all Tibetans equally, Dalai Lamas have no choice but to transcend their narrow lineage responsibility, there is no alternative within the framework of the traditional Tibetan political system.

Especially after going into exile, the ruling Gelugpas must have realised that their form of government had to become more inclusive if they wanted to hold all Tibetans together across regional and sectarian lines. The 14^th Dalai Lama then initiated democratic reforms with the aim to make the exile polity fairer and more representative. On a personal level, he also began to complement his Gelug practice with teachings from the other Tibetan Buddhist schools. In the process, it seems an inner conflict arose as the Dalai Lama had also inherited the propitiation of the Gelug protector Dorje Shugden from some of his root teachers. The Dalai Lama has not been specific about the nature of these tensions but since it is a personal experience, it suffices to acknowledge that to him it didn't feel right to continue. It is in this context of trying to transform an exclusivist Gelugpa government into an inclusive pan-Tibetan leadership that the Dorje Shugden worship was eventually identified as an obstacle to unity.

Why pick on this particular poor devil when there are dozens of protector deities in the Tibetan tantric pantheon? By trying to answer this question we are moving from the religious aspect of the conflict into its political dimension. The Dorje Shugden practice is a relic of the past when the Gelugpas were among themselves in government and sectarian bias was the institutionalized norm. As its very name emphasizes, the Ganden Phodrang government established in 1642 and in charge until the fall of Tibet in 1950, was a Gelugpa government. As such and by today's standards, it must be considered sectarian and biased by nature in itself. It is my assertion that an exclusivist, sectarian abuse of Dorje Shugden must have occurred within this larger historical context: Politicised Gelupas must have instrumentalised the Dharmapala towards their worldly aim to expand Gelug rule. This would also explain why other Tibetans to this day sometimes associate Dorje Shugden with Gelug hegemony.

In the new exile polity however, a Nyingma member of parliament, a Bonpo clerk or a Kagyu official understandably had no reason to participate in state-sponsored Gelugpa protector rituals, and particularly so when they associated Dorje Shugden with the old Gelugpa-dominated state and abuse of power. The guy clearly didn't possess majority appeal in the new Tibetan government-in-exile and the Dalai Lama saw that. A separation was perhaps all the more necessary as the new government still had a Dalai Lama, a Gelugpa Lama, as its head until 2011 when the 14th Dalai Lama formally stepped down from political power. To hold people together, the government either had to drop this ritual or settle for a Dharmapala that was acceptable to Tibetans of all religious backgrounds. As a personal consequence, the Dalai Lama discontinued his own practice of Dorje Shugden. The advantage was that he and the government became better identifiable for all Tibetans. Parting with Dorje Shugden was an important gesture that the government was now catering to the needs of all Tibetans equally. On a personal level, the Dalai Lama had meanwhile also become a professing follower of the Rimé movement and the Gelug-specific Dorje Shugden practice definitely didn't feel right to him anymore.

Historically, Rimé – which is often translated as “non-sectarian” - was the answer by Tibet's smaller orders to counter the Gelugpas’ sectarian expansionism. With political backing and powerful patrons, the Gelug order was free to spread its school of Buddhism into the farthest corner of the highlands. Precious transmissions and teachings from smaller orders were at risk of being extinguished and so great masters of the past - lineage holders in the true sense of the word - took it upon themselves to save and consolidate them, hence the Rimé movement was born. That a Dalai Lama would one day join the underdogs and stop putting the interest of his own school above the interest of the others is therefore extraordinary. Not only does it hold great symbolic significance for Tibet's religious minorities, but it is fulfills the necessity of exile to keep everyone together under one roof.

What we are witnessing, in my view, is therefore nothing less than the dying days of Gelugpa rule. Any hegemony exhausts its cycle. Buddhists would say it's impermanence at work. The exile polity is becoming more inclusive and with it, the Rimé movement is experiencing a revival. At the dawn of this new era, it would seem Dorje Shugden has become a convenient scapegoat for the official Gelug school to absolve itself from its historical responsibility of institutionalised sectarian rule. Singling Dorje Shugden out as the culprit and projecting collective shortcomings of Gelugpa rule onto this "spirit" allows the official order to extricate itself from the potential stigma of religious Apartheid. By getting rid of Dorje Shugden, so perhaps the new Gelugpa calculation, the order would be able to survive historical accountability unscathed, and the Tibetans could have a new beginning. More research is required to back up my conclusions, but that's my hypothesis in a nutshell for the moment.

Setting the current dispute into the historical context of Ganden Phodrang rule would also explain, why today's people in the Dorje Shugden camp all slip under general suspicion of being Gelug chauvinists: That's what politicised Dorje Shugden adherents of the past must have been. No smoke without a fire. It is known that power corrupts. It has a similar effect on people as money, sex or drugs. Over time, the dopamine boost causes addiction and leaves traces on the psyche. If this is done in an institutionalised manner and over centuries, the effect on the Gelug order can hardly have been flattering?

It is important to differentiate though, that contemporary followers of Dorje Shugden in Tibet and abroad, are private people without any association to state power and who have a different notion of the Dharmapala altogether. They also vehemently reject any wrongdoings with regard to belittling other Buddhist schools. The most vocal ones among them are not the most skillful in advancing their point, but if one listens to their message with a willingness to understand their concern, one may notice that their bewilderment at the accusation is actually genuine. - It shouldn't come as a surprise really because Gelugpas in general have a poor historical awareness of the problematic nature of their order's long-term marriage to political power. This unawareness also explains why the accused are totally clueless and the critics can direct any kind of sectarianism guilt pointedly on Dorje Shugden and his followers, without having second thoughts about themselves. On this point, all Gelugpas high and low are equally history-blind.

If there is sectarianism however, it is not found in an object but sits in the heads of people who are projecting their biased thinking onto this object. Siding with Dorje Shugden therefore cannot be considered “sectarian” per se. It says nothing about people’s motives and any blanket judgment must fall short. Though this is a Buddhist truism, the association of Dorje Shugden with Gelug power politics persists. Einstein didn't say for nothing that a prejudice is harder to crack than an atom.

What we need to keep in mind is that supreme Buddhist principles do not suddenly become invalid when moving about in a tantric context. Then we will also recognise that insisting on something being a divisive spirit is an eternalist fallacy, just as is claiming the contrary that this thing is an enlightened Buddha: Both positions can become dogmatic and rigid when continuously overemphasized. If an almost octogenarian Dalai Lama continues with what he refers to as his "duty" to alert people, even neutral observers will begin to take it as a sign of senile stubbornness. And if the Dorje Shugden folks don't stop shouting at his talks, they will have ruined the reputation of their Dharmapala beyond repair. People on either side must be careful not to become attached and compromise their ethics in the process, creating the conditions for a lot more trouble. Fact is opinions are sharply divided and the Sangha is split. Each side projects their preference. What more proof do we need that phenomena are inherently empty? And since neither side is on speaking terms with each other, this is also the theological end of the story. Live and let live.

The political end is more difficult to foresee. In hindsight, the biggest miscalculation in the quest to remove Dorje Shugden from the Gelug pantheon was the assumption that as in the past, people would follow the Dalai Lama's recommendation out of loyalty. Had the Dalai Lama left the disassociation from Dorje Shugden at the state level and his personal situation as its head, the dispute may have ended with the separation from the dissenting monks. But for whatever reason he began to repeatedly raise the issue at large public gatherings. Once his concern was publicised, things developed their own dynamics. So when people still don't listen after nearly twenty years of constant reminders, it can't be because they haven't heard the message? Rather they don't seem to appreciate protectionist interventions with regard to their personal religious practice. Perhaps then it is time to look at the dissent as an exercise for the Tibetans to become more self-reliant. The Dalai Lama won't be around to coach his people forever. The sooner they learn to figure out what they want, the better.

I don't know whether the "Dorje Shugden Tibetans" are aware of it but with their refusal to comply, they have created a historical precedence: For the first time since Lama Tsongkhapa, we now have a section of the Gelugpas that is completely cut off from the old ways of "religion and politics combined". These renegade monasteries and lay practitioners are now as independent as the Nyingmapa, Sakyapa and Kagyupa have been, never coming into the orbit of government. Could it be then that the Tibetan dispute so painful to observe at present, will be looked upon by later generations as a watershed in history, when a part of the Gelugpas was able to shake off the burden of government and become a normal Tibetan Buddhist school? In the heat of the polemics it may be difficult to envision this transition, but the Dorje Shugden supporters dominating the headlines are hardly representative of the whole group. There are less visible Tibetan masters, monks and and lay practitioners who stand on their ethics, and who focus on their spiritual practice to benefit others. By keeping a low profile, they help to avoid adding fuel to the fire. They also remain respectful of His Holiness the Dalai Lama though they do not share his view on the protector. 

It would be desirable for the head of the Gelugpa school, the so-called "Throne holder of Ganden" or Ganden Tripa, to play a more active role and put things into perspective for everyone. Dharmapalas are personal and not a main practice. Amidst the hype, a molehill appears like a mountain. The Ganden Tripa should also lead efforts to dissipate the doubts cast on the authenticity of the spiritual transmission. Furthermore, he should be at the forefront to investigate with ruthless candor the political role his order played during the Ganden Phodrang rule. At the same time it is clear that the Ganden Tripa's hands are tied. Even the person who represents Lama Tsongkhapa on earth has trouble stepping out of the Dalai Lama's shadow. The entire discussion is not easy because previous Dalai Lamas, especially the 5th to which the current 14th seems to feel particular affinity, are themselves implied in sectarian conflicts and the Dalai Lama is still among us, active in public affairs and dominating public opinion. It doesn't help either that, unlike the other Tibetan Buddhist schools, the big Gelugpa monasteries in India, including the throne holder of Ganden, are under the administration of the exile government and receive funding from them. - How can Lama Tsongkhapa's earthly deputy find a good way to act in the best interest of the lineage, irrespective of political concerns and without making His Holiness the Dalai Lama appear in a bad light?

This was my high-level take on the issue based on the free flow of thoughts. I hope it didn't add to the confusion or oversimplify the problem. My big picture can be summed up with the motto "Life punishes those who delay". The ugly dispute we currently have is the price the Tibetans are paying for their unresolved past. They prefer to localise the problem in an external source, in this case Dorje Shugden, when what is really required would be a critical self-analysis and the Gelugpas doing some serious introspection regarding their historical role: To what extent did the order compromise its ethics due to exercising state power?

With my prayers for peaceful co-existence

Mountain Phoenix Over Tibet

"When others, out of jealousy, mistreat me

With abuse, insult and the like,

May I take the defeat upon myself

And may I offer the victory to others."

5th verse from the Lojong text "Training of the Mind in Eight Verses", by the 11th-century Kadampa master Geshe Langri Tangpa Dorje Senge; the text is commonly used in Bodhisattva-training.

Book Review: "Grains Of Gold" By Gedun Choephel

Grains of Gold, Tales of a Cosmopolitan Traveler, Gedun Choephel; trans. Thupten Jinpa and Donald S. Lopez Jr.; University of Chicago; 2014.

It’s always a pleasure to hear from Gedun Choephel and have an opportunity to gain a better understanding of someone who is often considered a leading Tibetan intellectual of the 20th century. In Grains Of Gold, he talks about his ventures in India and Sri Lanka between 1934 and 1941: Places he visited, works, authors and scholars he came into contact with, and the impact these encounters had on his thought. From his free-spirited account emerges the picture of a multi-faceted and fascinating but also contradictory personality.

Gedun Choephel discovers that Tibetans hold India in such high esteem as the birthplace of the Buddha, but actually have neither an idea of the historical context in which Buddhism originated, nor a notion of its fate after the decline. So he begins his book with a history of India from its classical to the colonial period, specifically elaborating on the Muslim conquest and Islam in general. He also describes in detail the geography of the country, explains the origin of Indian place names and what these places looked like when he visited them, as compared to accounts from earlier travellers.

Among many other topics, he makes an excursion into botany, exploring native Indian flowers and trees and comparing them to the ones in his homeland. One can feel the curiosity of a person who spent all his life behind high mountains, coming out into the world for the first time:  Everything is new and interesting and worth exploring in more depth – even down to the plants that grow in this new world.

As a trained monk from a thoroughly and exclusively Buddhist background, it must have come as a shock to see the Dharma utterly vanished from the land of its origin, with many places of worship often only in ruins. Perhaps that is why he travelled to Sri Lanka to experience another living Buddhist nation besides his own He dedicates a whole chapter to it, concluding noticeably distressed that the Theravada Buddhists actually didn't consider the Tantrayana of the Tibetans as properly Buddhist. But Gedun Choephel was eager to reach a common understanding so both can "live in a state of appreciation and affection for each other from our respective lands so that at least the recognition of our kinship in having the same Teacher and teaching will not be lost," (p. 346-7).

He also discusses the history of Tibet in a new way by using global events as a reference points. Songtsen Gampo was seven years old when the prophet Muhammad passed away, he wrote for example; that Princess Wencheng of the Tang court in China came to Tibet nine years after the death of Muhammad; which would confirm the Tibetan statement that the Tsenpo was sixteen years old when he married the princess. In this way he hoped Tibetan readers at home would be able to place national events into a wider, international context and gain a broader historical awareness.

"Buddhism & Science" only began to become a popular discourse in the 1980s with Tibetan Lamas beginning to exchange knowledge with physicists and these days also with neuroscientists. But it is already an important topic in Gedun Choephel's book written during the first half of the past century. He doesn’t mention any specific scientist or a modern idea that could have had an influence on his thought, such as Einstein for example and theory of relativity. But he came into contact with what he calls "this modern reasoning" earlier than many of his compatriots and also sensed the importance to philosophically reconcile science and religion. He wrote: "Please pray that the two, this modern reasoning of science and the ancient teachings of the Buddha, may abide together for ten thousand years." (p. 407).

Treating a broad range of topics often in a comparative manner perhaps had never taken place before in the Tibetan language. It required the author to do an enormous amount of reading in various languages, meticulous research, translating, comparing, checking and crosschecking. For someone who was notorious for his loose lifestyle, he was surprisingly productive.

A point I would have expected but is not touched upon, is China's relevance for Tibet. Of course, Grains Of Gold is primarily about Gedun Choephel's experience in India and Sri Lanka. But not mentioning China at all other than through the Buddhist pilgrims of old Faxian and Xuanzang, who visited India, is somehow surprising. He saw British India, had access to international media, socialised with Western and Indian scholars and must have been aware of the Second World War raging, the Japanese occupation of China, and the Chinese Communists starting their movement. Not mentioning the bigger picture makes his discussion of the Tibetans' imprecise knowledge of Indian geography almost trivial: Who cares about the geography of India when geopolitics on the other side with China would determine Tibet's fate? Could it be that the intrepid traveller from the Sino-Tibetan frontier acquired the insulated view of the Lhasan élite with whom he was quarrelling all his life?

Also absent is a critical discussion of the Tibetan ruling system. Although Gedun Choephel saw the world, there is no word about the institutionalized religious rule of the Gelugpas which excluded many Tibetans from power in all taken-for-grantedness. What strikes me is that Gedun Choephel - the sharp observer, the born Nyingma Tulku trained in the Gelug system, the one interested in everything under the sun with the inside view and the courage – had nothing to say about the shortcomings of the traditional Tibetan political system. Was he too preoccupied with philosophical issues? Did he simply have enough on his plate already and wasn't keen on letting frictions degenerate into a total war with the establishment? Or did he not develop the awareness because it was the norm?

Generally speaking, Gedun Choephel's relationship with the powerful comes across as ambivalent. His writing style changes in tone from beseeching via dismissive, all the way to incisive. Returning from India, he could have circumvented Lhasa and returned to his native Amdo to set up a modern school and let his ideas speak. Instead, he insisted with people who clearly didn't know how to appreciate his work. It appears Gedun Choephel was more traditional on this point after all, waiting for that slap on the back from the establishment, which never came.

Similar to the earlier translated work by Donald Lopez Jr. "The Madman's Middle Way", it is never quite clear in Grains Of Gold whether Gedun Choephel wrote to enlighten his audience and make them curious about the world or whether he was writing to demonstrate how smart he was. Revealingly, the translators point out that the original Tibetan manuscript was studded with Sanskrit expressions few in Tibet at the time would have understood at all and that he deliberately employed them with the intention to impress readers. In fact, the author's whole Sanskrit discussion is distinctive of the dichotomy between wanting to share his insight and his Ego intervening:

From Khagya to Gengya [two places in Amdo] is far.

The road from Ü to Amdo is very long.

From Magadha to Tibet is most distant.

From actual Sanskrit to Tibetanized Sanskrit is farther than that.

The only Sanskrit likely to ever cross my lips will be a couple of Mantras, names of Tantric deities and funny exclamations like Thrat! and Phat! But also a debutant can follow that as a Tibet(an) scholar you can draw on Sanskrit for a lifetime. There is no doubt about the importance of a good grasp of Sanskrit for the knowledge carriers of Tibetan Buddhism. It is the lifeblood of our religion, the impeccable ideal upon which our written language was modelled. Sanskrit for Tibet is like Latin for Europe. It’s the root of our civilization, classical and eternally beautiful.

Missing in Gedun Choephel's Sanskrit discussion however, is his own ideas on how to improve the low standard. While the author aptly elaborates on the shortcomings he then simply moves on to the next topic without proposing any solutions. Is that the way? He could easily have brought the discussion to a concrete end by proposing to invite Indian Sanskrit scholars to Tibet so the level could be raised - or something to that effect; a man like Gedun Choephel must certainly have had ideas? It's a pity he didn't continue to think big all the way through. This omission makes his Sanskrit discussion – as correct as it may be - appear like of a lot of noise.

Alas, people never got to read his work in real-time. It's not even clear to whom Gedun Choephel sent his manuscript after completion in 1941. It’s not clear either whether Grains Of Gold is the English translation of the Tibetan version published for the first time in Tibet in 1990. The translators mention they had to compile a template from various manuscripts. Also parts of the original manuscript and many of the illustrations were reportedly lost during the political turmoil following the Chinese takeover.

By the time his book was finally published in 1990, Gedun Choephel was long dead and generations of Tibetans had already had their own first-hand experience of India and the world beyond, due to the political circumstances of exile. As for the ones who remained in Tibet, they too, had had access to international materials through Chinese translations with the opening in the 1980s. So one may ask: When the topics presented in Grains Of Gold could no longer be considered a novelty in the Tibetan version of 1990, have they retained any relevance at all in the English translation of 2014, more than half a century after Gedun Choephel wrote them? What insights could readers of our generation derive from Grains Of Gold?

Talk is cheap by people like me who profit from the mercy of late birth. Grown up in a post-modern, post-gender era, with a decent education and convinced that there are no topics too difficult for general discussion, many of Gedun Choephel's radically novel ideas and approaches in Grains Of Gold have become mainstream in our time. Everyone discusses Buddhist ecumenism now, lauds the compatibility of Buddhism with science or supports Tibetan writing reform at least as an idea.

But we could read Grains Of Gold to better understand the times in which Gedun Choephel lived and gain additional insight into the thoughts of this controversial and colourful personality who was persona non grata during his lifetime and through a miraculous, post-humus metamorphosis, became everybody's darling: the much-heralded romantic rebel of the youths, the hero of the socialists. Academics, filmmakers, writers, artists, politicians, people of all walks are enamoured of him for all kinds of reasons.

Only Dharamsala has remained silent. If we can consider the Central Tibetan Administration (CTA) the successor of the historical government in Lhasa, should it not finally shoulder the responsibility for wrongly imprisoning Gedun Choephel after his return from India? Wouldn't it suit the government to rehabilitate him and issue an official apology to his relatives? When they were able to find final words of appreciation for famous contemporaries such as Ngapo and Phuntsog Wangyal, what could possibly prevent them from making a similar statement with regard to the man from Amdo and his contribution to modern Tibetan thought?

Gedun Choephel wasn't a political figure who shaped the course of Tibetan history, but if he wasn't important in other ways, why did the government bother to throw a small fish into prison, at a time when the real threat was lurking at the gates preparing to overrun the country?

In their excellent introduction the translators wrote, "the heroes most esteemed in Tibetan history are the lotsawas, the translators, those who made the long journey to India to learn Sanskrit so that they could translate the treasury of Buddhist teachings in the sutras, sastras, and tantras into Tibetan. Gedun Choephel places himself in that lineage…" (p. 8)

Dharamsala could pay its last respects to Gedun Choephel by welcoming him home into the circle of Tibet's great Lotsawas. It's true, he was arrogant and probably also a pain in the neck. But had he not died so early he may well have outlived this Sturm und Drang period, become mellower and who knows what else he would have accomplished. Isn't everyone more antagonistic, radical, and impatient when they are younger? Isn't radicalism the bonus of youth? 

The one characteristic trait of his work that hasn't lost its relevance for today's readers is his ability to question fearlessly at the expense of challenging authority and compromising his reputation when necessary. He didn't mind to be in the minority opinion. Smart cookies are never a majority anyway, he may have told himself. In this sense, Tibetan posterity can still learn a thing or two from Gedun Choephel.

He also tried to continuously incorporate new insights remaining mentally open to reframe his outlook, which is a sign of good scientific work. At the same time, it is also a fundamental characteristic of the Buddhadharma where serious practitioners make an effort to apply "correct view" based on non-attachment and developing a non-dualistic attitude. 

That's my long-winded conclusion!

Gedun Choephel, the specialist in breaking complicated messages down into easily understandable pieces, packed it into the unassuming sentence: "If one has intelligence, one can find great significance anywhere."

Mountain Phoenix Over Tibet

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"You Get Sick If You Don't Eat Meat!"

Once a year during Sakadawa, Tibetan culinary conventions are reversed for the course of four weeks: Not eating meat is the social norm and for a change, vegetarianism is self-understood. Tomorrow will be the first day of the Tibetan Vesak. My grandma from A Tibetan Christmas used to live on tea and buns during the whole month, and on tsepa 15, the day of the full moon which falls on 13 June this year, she would rise before dawn to take the eight Mahayana precepts. Except for the meal at noon which also consisted of some tea and a bun, she would fast to turn her focus on the mind, making the fasting become a prayer.

To observers it is often astonishing that there aren't more "full-time vegetarians" beyond Sakadawa. Tibetans usually explain it with the harsh highland climate, the historical lack of greens and the environmentally imposed necessity to eat meat for physical strength, even though that is bygone times: These days you can find any food in Tibet, with plenty of greens and fruits not only imported from China, but also locally grown. That hasn't weakened the traditional bias though that a meatless diet weakens your health.

When we openly refused a food as children, we were told, "In Africa they have nothing to eat, so be grateful and eat up!" When we left food on our plates because we were full, we were told, "Leaving food is sdigpa! Eat up!" 

Miraculously enough, none of us had any food allergies back then: "Gluten-free" or "lactose-intolerant" were unknown adjectives and "vegetarian" sounded like an illness. I for one have never been much of a carnivore from the start. It felt nauseating to eat meat even when it came disguised as Momo, the Tibetan national dish number one. The moment our parents left the dinner table, I would quickly shovel the meat over onto my brother's plate. He would quietly pass me his Momo wrappings and vegies.

My Amala would also have none of my first attempts as a teenager to consciously stop eating meat. Her first reaction was always, "You get sick if you don't eat meat!" But only with the second argument did she haul out the really big guns: "Even Gyalwa Rinpoche, who tried to subsist on a meatless diet, was forced to eat meat again, because he became very frail, and the doctors ordered him to eat meat again!"

The message was very clear: When even Tibet's Avalokitesvara in person had to eat meat to sustain his human body, what was I ordinary little mortal to think she could survive without?

Khyod sangsrgyas-las mkhaspar yodbas?

That was usually the end of my attempts to discontinue a carnivorous diet. With the years I realised that the rhetorical question "Do you presume you are smarter than the Enlightened One?" was an effective method to discourage any attempt at trying something outside of the social norm.

Only later did I learn that there are millions of Indians, who voluntarily and healthily subsist on a vegetarian diet without the slightest health deficits, and right under the Dalai Lama's nose, if I may point out.  Perhaps his cooks back then were not up to the latest level of nutritional information? And if they were Tibetan, they maybe had the same ingrained bias like my mother that a meatless diet makes you sick?

While Tibetans are generally fond of meat, I think it's safe to say that the killing aspect haunts them and they sincerely rejoice in everyone, who manages to live as a vegetarian. The Lama said, honestly rejoicing in the wholesome actions of others is also a way to accumulate great merit. In other words, the pensive carnivore might actually be in better karmic shape than the proud vegetarian.

Some also point out though they eat meat, it comes exclusively from big animals such as cattle, where one life taken lasts to feed many; and not from small animals such as for example crabs, where many lives would have to be taken to achieve the same effect. This can sound like an excuse. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. And perhaps it also is for some, but according to Tibetan logic, a life weighs equal irrespective of size. Therefore, while fully acknowledging that taking the life of any sentient being is an unwholesome action, people tend to consider killing "only" big animals for food, a mitigating circumstance.

A further distinction is made with only two-toed "big animals" slaughtered. Meat from solidungulates such as horses is a cultural no-go. A total no-go are fish, seafood and insects enjoyed in other Buddhist countries such as Thailand. Traditionally, Tibetans haven't eaten chicken either. So although the Tibetan diet is doubtlessly carnivorous, it is indeed conservatively restricted to the meat of certain animals. Of course from the standpoint of those "certain animals" that's still bad news, but the goal to have a vegetarian world is unrealistic and from a Buddhist point of view the vegetarian diet is not harm-free either since uncountable numbers of insects die even in organic agriculture. 

My oldest cousin in Tibet, who inherited the farm where my dad was born, grows crops and keeps animals as most people in his area. His work animals are mostly Dzo, a crossbreed between Yak and cow used mainly for heavy-duty work such as ploughing fields or pulling charges. His animals also have names which is indicative of something like a personal relationship. Gü-ser ("Golden Back") is the name of the animal he loves most because it is working the hardest. During a leisurely walk through his fields where we caught up on what happened in our lives since we last met, my cousin suddenly disclosed, "Aché, I stopped eating beef. I cannot eat their flesh any longer when I see how hard they labour side by side with us." Empathy had grown in him.

Given that this relative is an upright Khampa, who are the people capable of asking in all seriousness, "If you don't eat meat, what do you eat?" this change of heart is truly remarkable. But of course he still relishes pork. There is nothing that beats phayul phaksha ("hometown pork") with loads of fat. When we first came to this part of the highlands we were invited to many homes. There was always a dish in a bowl made up of pure white cubes. The first time, my mom thinking it is Liangfen stuck in her chopsticks and ate one. To her horror it was solid pork fat, a local delicacy. Tibetans love their tshilu. Some even affectionately call their sweetheart ngayi snying-gi tshilu – "fat of my heart", woah!

My mom didn't give up preaching the beneficial effects of a carnivorous diet long after I had become a big girl, married with children and her own household. But now nearing my late grandma's age, she is also immersing herself more into the Dharma and in parallel, her conviction that not eating meat will make you sick, has been eroding. To my surprise I heard her say the other day that there are so many other ways of getting your protein, that eating meat was no longer a necessity.

The Lama could easily tell his devoted listeners to stop eating meat in order not to contribute to the killing of animals. Most would follow whatever he says without a second thought, faith runs deep. But he doesn't give them the answer. Instead the Lama works out the animals' side, explains their suffering, their stress and fear, and then leaves it up to people to do their thinking and draw their conclusions, helping them to strengthen their judgment and responsibility. And not only does he accord people the freedom to act as they see fit, he also does not judge their decisions: As long as behaviour remains ethical, he said, any decision is okay. - Definitely more appealing than vegetarian fundamentalist accusations in the style of "meat is murder!" or "don't ask me why I am a vegetarian; ask yourself why you are not!"

With time my mom befriended many people in her Dharma community, several of whom happen to be vegetarian. Seeing once is better than hearing a thousand times. Through their simple personal example, she finally became aware of her overestimation of the benefits of a carnivorous diet. As a result, my mom now limits her own meat intake to once a week. Miracles happen! Being the person my mother is she now found herself a new culinary Mantra: "Eating meat once in a while won't harm you!"

Happy Sakadawa!

Mountain Phoenix Over Tibet

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