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by
Tricycle
This article appeared in the Winter
1996 issue of "Tricycle" magazine
An idealistic young Scottish woman goes
East to study Buddhism. Twenty-five years later she delivers a radical
and unsparing critique of religious structures in Tibet. How much of
this system is taking root in West? And how much of it do we really
want? June Campbell studied Tibetan Buddhism in monasteries in India in
the early 1970's. Subsequently she traveled throughout India, Europe,
and North America as a translator and interpreter for various Tibetan
lamas. Her book "Traveler in Space" examines the patriarchy of Tibet's
political, religious, and social structures, and the real and symbolic
role of women in Tibetan society. Today Ms. Campbell teaches women's
studies and religious studies in Edinburgh. This interview was conducted
by Helen Tworkhov in New York in June 1996. All text in tinted boxes is
excerpted from Traveler in Space, available in the United States from
George Braziller, Inc.
Tricycle: What was your motivation for
writing Traveler in Space?
Campbell: It was a way for me to work
through some of the personal confusion that my own experiences left me
with. Also, because as time has gone on and Tibetan Buddhism has become
more popular in the West, there is much being written by people who know
less about the inner workings of the Tibetan system than I, and I
thought that what I had to say may be of benefit to others.
Tricycle: Are you referring to the
Orientalists' view of Tibet-the kind of Shangri-la myths that still
define Tibet in the popular imagination?
Campbell: Yes, but also the academic
approach as well, which can take hard lines on certain issues in ways
that limit the voices that are heard. Such as the role of women in what
is called tantra.
From "Traveler in Space":
Buddhist tantra makes use of the notion
that to enlist the passions in one's religious practice; rather than
avoid them, is a potent way to realize the basic non-substantiality of
all phenomena. The Buddhist tantric deities are invoked and visualized
in meditation, and practitioners identify with them in such a way as to
enable them not only to be released from the limitations of
ego-clinging, but also to transmute the various mind poisons into
various forms of wisdom or enlightenment that the deities represent.
This is reputed to help break the boundaries between "self" and "other"
and ultimately between all dualities that are experienced as part of
mundane existence. The highest form of realization is said only to come
about through the secret tantric practices that involve sexual
relations, and that are depicted iconographically in many religious
paintings and images. Among celibate practitioners and the
"not-so-advanced," these actions are visualized in the mind during
meditation as a way of experiencing the "non-dual" through the images of
the dual.
Tricycle: In iconography the male and
female forms are complimentary, and the facts speak of an exchange of
equal energies. Yet in your book you portray the institutions of Tibetan
Buddhism as dependent on the subjugation of women. On the other hand,
Miranda Shaw, in her book Passionate Enlightenment, speaks of the
tantric female masters.
Campbell: But they were all from a
thousand years ago; for five hundred years tantric female voices have
largely disappeared.
Tricycle: How do you explain their
disappearance?
Campbell: To my understanding, it is
partly explained by the very unusual social structure that developed in
Tibet. Other societies developed kinship, or a monarchy- or lineages
that were passed through kinship or, later on, through wealth, or other
mechanisms that created a cohesive social system.
The Tibetans incorporated an aspect of
Buddhist teachings that had to do with rebirth and reincarnation into
the social system, so that you had divine incarnation or what are called
tulkus-- little boys--that are identified as being the reincarnations of
previous lamas and are born with advanced capacities for enlightenment.
In other words: power by incarnation. And these boys are taken away from
their mothers and from the domain of the family and raised in the
all-male environments of the monasteries. And even misogyny, which was
extensive in the monasteries, was used as a way of helping these young
men in their practice. In order for patriarchy to survive, women had to
be subjugated.
Tricycle: How did misogyny help male
monastic practice?
Campbell: In the very popular text of
Milarepa's life story-which all lay people and monastics read--there are
many expressions of ambivalence about women: how women are polluting,
how they are an obstacle to practice, that at best women can serve
others and at worst they are a nuisance. At the same time, women are
transcendentalized into goddesses, dakinis, female aspects of being that
men must associate with in order to reach enlightenment. On the one
hand, the monastic boys were cut off from women, from maternal care,
from physical contact, from a daily life in which women played nurturing
and essential roles, and this whole secular way of life was devalued in
favor of a male-only society. And yet these boys grew into practitioners
who needed women, either in symbolic form or real women as consorts, to
fulfill their quest. So even misogyny, which was extensive in the
monasteries, was used as a way of helping these young men in their
practice. In order for patriarchy to survive, women had to be
subjugated.
Tricycle: Is the tulku system responsible
for silencing women?
Campbell: What I argue in the book is
that if it is the case that women did once have a more prominent
religious role, then it had certainly declined by the time the tulku
system was introduced. I argue that early Tibetan Buddhism replaced much
of the Mother Goddess worship and incorporated all the female symbolism
of the Lotus Goddess into Chenrezig [the Bodhisattva of Compassion]. The
tulku system was what put the tin lid on any potential for women to gain
equality in the religious sphere, or for their voices to be heard. It
ensured the power of the divine male. Women were excluded from the
sacred domain, except under conditions laid down by men, and "tantra"
was used as a means of polarizing male and female as opposites. As a
result, women and their role in the system had to remain hidden. This
created very ambivalent attitudes. And in order to keep alive the
tantric tradition-as it was being practiced-women had to be kept secret.
Tricycle: Do you mean the actual woman
and their relationship to her had to be kept secret, or that their
sexual practices had to be kept secret?
Campbell: Both. Because you had lamas who
openly had wives and that was quite acceptable. But a lot of them had
secret consorts in addition to their wives. And then you had so-called
celibate yogis who had secret consorts.
Tricycle: Are the benefits of tantric
visualization practices considered parallel to actual sexual engagement?
Campbell: No. They may be presented that
way in texts. But in the functioning of the system, to have an actual
sexual consort is considered the most important ingredient in the path
of tantra. That's where so much of the confusion and ambivalence and
misogyny come into play, because you have both: the emphasis on male
monastic society and, at the same time the need for women, but without
the acknowledgment of the role women play. The centrality of the hidden
sexual relationship is terribly important.
Tricycle: In Traveler in Space, you speak
of your own sexual relationship with the late Kalu Rinpoche [1904-1989].
And the revelation was truly shocking to anyone in the West or the East
who had known this master. He was considered to be a great Tibetan
teacher; who was presented to the world as a celibate yogi. Most of his
closest disciples did not know that he had consorts. His secret sexual
life seems to have been well protected in his lifetime.
Campbell: When I have asked why details
of sexual encounters often emerge after a lama's death I have been told
that it is because ordinary people might misconstrue events, and lose
faith in their lama, thus breaking their own personal vow of faith in
him, and also helping to bring about the lama's downfall. Naturally any
fall in the status of a lama who outwardly maintained a position of
celibacy would threaten the whole hierarchical system of theocratic
rule, itself dominated since the 1500's by monasticism, and as a
consequence the heart of the society itself.
The tulku system lay at the center of the
monastic way of life, and symbolically depended not only on the
exclusion of women, but also on the metaphorical idea of male motherhood
and divine succession. Seen in this way, any lamas outwardly
transgressing the rules of the system threatened the very life of the
system itself.
Tricycle: Is it your understanding that
Kalu Rinpoche broke his vows?
Campbell: I don't know what his vows
were. We never spoke of them. What I do know is that clearly I was not
an equal in our relationship. As I understand it, the ideals of tantra
are that two people come together in a ritualistic exchange of equally,
valued and distinct energies. Ideally, the relationship should be
reciprocal, mutual. The female would have to be seen on both sides as
being as important as the male in the relationship.
My relationship with Kalu Rinpoche was
not a partnership of equals. When it started. I was in my late twenties.
He was almost seventy. He controlled the relationship. I was sworn to
secrecy. What I am saying is that it was not a formal ritualistic
relationship, nor was it the "tantric" relationship that people might
like to imagine.
The etymology of the word tantra is
similar in Sanskrit and Tibetan. In Sanskrit, the word means loom, or
warp, but is understood as the principle underlying everything.
In Tibetan, tantra is known as ju
(Tibetan rgyud), which means thread, string, or 'that which joins things
together."
Tricycle: You ended up feeling sexually
exploited? Used for personal indulgence?
Campbell: Obviously at the time and for
some years afterwards I didn't think this. How could I? It would have
caused me too much distress to see it in this light. It took me many
years of thinking about the whole thing to see it differently, and to
begin speaking about my experience. This wasn't easy. I tried through
writing to understand why people rationalize these acts as beneficial,
and it made me question a lot of things. I've got no doubts now that
when a male teacher demands a relationship that involves secret sex, an
imbalance of power, threats, and deception, the woman is exploited. You
have to ask, "Where does the impulse to hide sexual behavior come from?"
Especially if it happens in a system that supposedly values the sexual
relationship. Of course, there are those who say they are consensually
doing secret "tantric" practices in the belief that it's helping them
become "enlightened," whatever that means. That's up to them, and if
they're both saying it, that's fine.
But there's a difference between that and
the imperative for women not to speak of the fact that they're having a
sexual relationship at all. What's that all about if it's not about fear
of being found out! And what lies behind that fear? These are the
question I had to ask.
Tricycle: You were sworn to secrecy by
him?
Campbell: Yes. And by the one other
person who knew. A member of his entourage.
Tricycle: What might have happened if you
had broken the silence?
Campbell: Well, it was assumed that I
wouldn't. But I was told that in a previous life, the last life before
this one, Kalu Rinpoche had a woman who caused trouble by wanting to get
closer to him, or by wanting to stay with him longer. She made known her
own needs, made her own demands, and he put a spell on her and she died.
Tricycle: Just the way child abusers deal
with their victims: "If you tell, something bad will happen to you."
Campbell: Yes, there are many
similarities. It instills fear in the context of religion. Put yourself
in my position. If I had refused to cooperate I would still have known
something that was threatening to the lama and his followers. Where
would I have gone from there? If I'd wanted to talk about it no one
would have believed me. Some people don't believe me now. And what if
I'd spoken out and the lama had denied it publicly? Could he still have
been my teacher? I don't think so. As it was I was happy to comply at
the time because I thought it was the right thing to do and that it
would help me. But I was still very, very isolated and afraid for years
to speak about it.
In my own experience, despite the absence
of a Tibetan upbringing, there were quite specific motivating factors
that helped to keep me silent over many years. These factors were
probably similar to those which influenced Tibetan women over the
centuries. . . . Firstly, there is no doubt that the secret role into
which an unsuspecting woman was drawn bestowed a certain amount of
personal prestige, in spite of the fact that there was no public
acknowledgment of the woman's position. Secondly, by participating in
intimate activities with someone considered in her own and the Buddhist
community's eyes to be extremely holy, the woman was able to develop a
belief that she too was in some way "holy" and the events surrounding
her were karmically predisposed. Finally, despite the restrictions
imposed on her, most women must have viewed their collusion as "a test
of faith," and an appropriate opportunity perhaps for deepening their
knowledge of the dharma and for entering 'the sacred space."
Tricycle: There are Westerners who knew
you when you were with Kalu Rinpoche, who were also close disciples.
They did not explicitly know what was going on at the time, yet some of
them say now that they are not surprised by your book, that they "knew"
without really knowing and that the sexual behavior of lamas, so-called
celibate or not, is so pervasive that, in addition to their respect for
your personal integrity, there would be no reason to question your
veracity At the same time, students in the West who never knew Kalu
Rinpoche are disputing you story. And I have already received phone
calls from two Tibetan lamas in the Kalu Rinpoche lineage asking me not
to publish any of your work and accusing you of making all this up,
saying, in both cases, "this June Campbell had a fantasy of having an
affair with Kalu Rinpoche."
Campbell: Well, it's not the first time
that the "fantasy" argument has been used against women. Freud gave in
to the social pressures of his day to suppress the truth about what he
knew about sexual abuse and incest, and came up with the "female
fantasy" theory, now totally discredited. Of course, it's understandable
that those lamas should react in this way; after all, they knew nothing
of what was going on. But I'd rather face up now to people abusing my
character than go on denying the truth. In any case, my book isn't about
Kalu Rinpoche. It is about much wider issues than my own personal
experience, although obviously the effort to write it came from that
experience. I left Tibetan Buddhism thirteen years ago and I spent most
of those years thinking about the complexities of what happened. If what
I've written is dismissed by Buddhists as irrelevant, or a fantasy, or a
lie-so be it, it doesn't bother me. I know that writing the book helped
me acknowledge m)r past and come to terms with a lot of difficult
feelings. It helped me to understand what happened by myself and on my
own terms. No one can tell me that isn't true.
Tricycle: What advice do you have for
women who are currently in the position you were in twenty-five years
ago?
Campbell: This is a difficult one.
Twenty-five years ago I would only take advice from men in maroon robes
called "Rinpoche," so I imagine women in a similar position today will
be very, very unlikely to listen to a middle-aged Scotswoman, especially
one who's just been slandered by Tibetan lamas as being a neurotic liar!
Still, you've given me the opportunity, so I'd have to say: Don't agree
to a long-term secret relationship; it's a burden you'll have to carry
all your life, and in the end you'll have to be true to yourself and
face up to why you entered into it. If you're afraid of what might
happen next, or how you'll deal with the stresses of secrecy, try to
take control of your life again. If you're being passive and compliant
because he's your teacher, do as I did eventually: think for yourself,
take action, and end it. Never allow part of yourself to be hidden away
under threats of "bad karma" or anything else. The truth never made "bad
karma." If you need to, look for supportive people to help you. If
you've started to feel that in some way you're special, that maybe
you've been chosen to fulfill some kind of destiny, well, think again.
These kinds of thoughts won't help you to become strong in yourself.
They may seem to explain things now, but they'll only hold you back in
the long run.
Tricycle: What do women attracted to
Vajrayana practice need to know?
Campbell: Well, they need to know that
Vajrayana has a long history and social context that is worth studying
before submerging themselves in the glamour of it all. That the
philosophy underlying so many of the practices is very ambiguous with
regard to women's place and role. That if they expect to find an
encouragement of women's voices within the system, it'll be hard to
find. That there is a lot of emphasis on hierarchies and status. That
the system's pervaded by secrecy.
Tricycle: Is there any safeguard, and
will it make a difference once the Western heirs have moved to the
forefront?
Campbell: It's sad to say but I don't
think any advice about standing up to teachers would stop some young
women from wanting to have a safe and comfortable relationship with a
male teacher and later on being exploited. I wouldn't even bother saying
anything to the men who do it. Because they would only rationalize or
deny everything or accuse others of all sorts of things. And it's crazy
to put all the blame on the Tibetans. It's obvious that Westerners have
lots of problems themselves about how to relate to gurus, and we're not
exactly perfect in the ways we relate to one another as men and women.
What's terrible, though, is that ordinary men and women seem to be happy
to give up all responsibility when they know something's wrong and then
don't act when they need to. After all: no student, no teacher. I think
exactly the same issues would be around for "Western heirs," some of
whom might be keen to realize, as Peter Bishop put it, their "dreams of
power."
Tricycle: Is Kalu Rinpoche less
enlightened than we thought he was, or do we have to change our
understanding of what an enlightened guru is?
Campbell: It's tempting to stonewall this
question altogether because I can already hear howls of outrage and
indignation in some quarters at the thought of asking a mere woman about
the status of a lama's enlightenment. But I don't think the issue here
is about my opinion of Kalu Rinpoche, because, like everyone else's,
it's highly subjective and is based on personal experience. I think it's
more to do with the problems of squaring up the idea of perfection
alongside what is perceived to be dubious behavior. One understanding of
the "enlightened guru" is that everything about his behavior, no matter
how strange or morally wrong, is a manifestation of enlightenment. That
view may have been sustainable in Tibetan society-even promoted-but I
think it's certain that Western society will be unable to sustain it.
It's my view that if people resist looking at this question, certain
groups will become more and more insular in Western society, in an
attempt to protect themselves from challenge and to avoid change.
They'll never go beyond a simplistic view of the guru as perfect, and
the gurus themselves will never go beyond wielding complete power and
being adored. To my mind this kind of insularity would either hasten the
demise of the whole system, or create closed, cult-like groups that have
no influence on society at all.
Tricycle: As in the case of other
controversies over Buddhist teachers, the real issue here seems to be
about power; and as you describe it, this power is not a corrupt or
aberrant twist within the Tibetan system, but is essential to its entire
social fabric. How do think this is going to play out in the West?
Campbell: Obviously those involved
closely will have a better idea than I have of the ways it'll play out.
But I think the issues will be around how power is being used-for
example in male-female relationships, elitism, teacher-student issues,
materialism. Having said that, it's very important not to lose sight of
the fact that the Tibetan system's not unique in there being a link
between power, religion, and gender. and it's not the first system in
the world to face change or be challenged. OK, many of the Tibetan
customs may seem very different, but in essence we have the same
problems in the West to do with abuses of power. This is what I tried to
highlight in the book--they're the same old problems but in new
disguises.
Tricycle: There seem to be both Western
men and Western women in the Vajrayana lineages who share your views.
But unlike, say, Japanese or Korean Zen or the Thai Forest tradition,
the Tibetan scene in the West is still dominated by Tibetan men who have
a great deal invested in the old ways.
Campbell: It's not surprising. I think
part of the problem lies in how isolated the Tibetan monastic system is.
It was a very unique sort of environment in which these young boys grew
up-especially the tulkus. I think that's where their need to keep
control originated. After all, these young boys had little or no say in
anything in their lives. Their mothers gave them up. Their identity was
constructed by an institution their potential power as men was
completely tied up with it. If they had desires for women they had to be
kept secret. In the case of the tulkus they were worshiped as divine. It
was a very unusual upbringing. In the West we've developed a different
view-that children don't benefit from being brought up in institutions.
I think it'll be recognized sooner or later that the monastic upbringing
is not helpful in the lives of young men and boys, especially in the
absence of living, loving women who are actually present, visible, and
for real, inside the system. If Western boys are sent to Nepal or India
for that kind of upbringing, all you'll get is a repeat of the past.
They'll have difficulty giving up power, too, and they'll have
ambivalent or even warped feelings about women and their place in the
system. I think that if men maintain a rigid position that excludes the
female dimension, it is not only harmful for women, but must be harmful
for men as well, in the long run. I believe that.
The problem with any analysis of a system
like this is that a lot of people assume that they need only examine the
ways in which it obviously doesn't work for women. What also seems very
important to uncover now are the subtleties of the ways in which it
doesn't work for men either.
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