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by Julian
Gearing
February 21, 2001, Asiaweek
Editors, be warned. If you don't want
your newspaper or magazine burned, don't raise awkward questions about
Tibet's top lamas. Copies of Asiaweek with the cover story "Lama Wars"
published late last year are said to have been torched. The reason was my
questioning of the circumstances surrounding the recognition of Urgyen
Trinley as the reincarnation of the Karmapa and leader of the Karma Kagyu
sect, and the Dalai Lama's role in the affair. Supporters of the Tibetan
government-in-exile in Dharamsala in India did what they usually do when
their spiritual leaders are shown in a poor light -- they grabbed Asiaweek
off the newsstands and burned it. A simple form of censorship.
Letters poured into the magazine's
Hong Kong office. The story was attacked as a "distortion of Tibetan
history and recent Karma Kagyu events." But praise for the piece far
outweighed criticism, by a ratio of 10 to one. "‘Struggle for Tibet's
Soul' is unbiased in its approach to the issue of two competing Karmapa
Lamas, and the war being waged from the different quarters of the Tibetan
Kagyu lineage," was a fairly representative comment.
The reason I bring this up now is that
the Karmapa is in the news again -- and the controversy could intensify.
At the beginning of February, the 15-year-old lama was given refugee
status by the Indian authorities, after a year-long wait. Trinley hit
world headlines in January last year with his escape from Tibet. For
millions of followers around the world, his flight and his new-found
refugee status are causes for celebration. They now ask: will he be
allowed to visit his Karma Kagyu sect exile seat at Rumtek Monastery in
the mountain kingdom of Sikkim?
Why does all this matter? I would
prefer not to simplify what is a very complex religious and political
issue. But if you want it in a nutshell: a significant minority of the
estimated 5 million followers of the Karma Kagyu sect consider Urgyen
Trinley a "fake." Careful examination of the process by which he was found
and recognized as the reincarnation of the 16th Karmapa, who died in 1981,
indicates fraud. Regent Tai Situ Rinpoche, with the help of Gyaltsab
Rinpoche, allegedly forged a letter said to have been written by the 16th
Karmapa pointing to where he would be reborn. They dragged the communist
Chinese authorities into the process by involving them in the search and
enthronement in Tibet. The two rinpoche, respected lamas, used force to
push out rival Sharma Rinpoche, who went on to recognize another boy,
Thaye Dorje, as a rival Karmapa. And they involved the Dalai Lama, who
belongs to the Geluk sect, in the controversy. The Dalai Lama gave his
blessing to the recognition of Trinley, eager to win over the formerly
troublesome sect, and with the hope that the new Karmapa could play a role
in a political solution of the "Tibet Question."
If the allegations are to be believed,
a simple nomad boy was turned into a political and religious pawn. On the
other hand, if the recognition process has been carried out correctly,
Urygen Trinley is the Karmapa. The Karma Kagyu sect has split over this
difference. Asiaweek was not the first to publish the story of the
controversy, laying bare the "political" interference in the centuries-old
Tibetan practice of searching for the reincarnations of high lamas. But it
was the first to put developments into their true perspective, showing how
the Karmapa issue has worrying implications for Chinese control over the
recognition of top lamas, the Panchen Lama and the Dalai Lama, and the
spiritual future of Tibet.
The criticism of my story was
understandable. The piece challenged the belief of millions of followers
who worship Trinley almost like a god (forgive the journalese, considering
we are talking about Buddhism, not Christianity). It is like telling a
Catholic that the Pope is a fraud. Take one Western follower I talked to
at the Samye Ling Tibetan Center in Scotland. She had dropped a well-paid
career at the sight of a photo of the young lama and was on the brink of
going on a three-year Buddhist retreat. There is no way she could accept
the suggestion that Trinley might not be the "true" reincarnation of the
Karmapa.
It is hard to logically debate a
subject in which faith in one's spiritual leader plays such an important
part. One Internet website, supporting Urgyen Trinley, devoted much space
to a well-argued critique of the Asiaweek story, trying to find holes in
minor points of terminology and cultural practice. But the critics failed
to tackle the key allegations -- that the crucial "letter of recognition"
was a poor forgery by Tai Situ, who has refused to have it forensically
tested; that he deviously brought the Chinese authorities into the
process; that he first set eyes on the boy Trinley one year before he
announced he was found, the implication being that he purposely looked for
a boy to fill the role; and that his tactics resulted in violence and
deaths. Not for nothing has Delhi restricted Tai Situ's movements. These
are serious allegations, not made lightly, but not made with any bias. And
the story did not say rival Dorje is the "true" Karmapa.
Space constraints meant the story
failed to delve deeply into the gray areas. But I didn't "parachute" into
the controversy. My piece was the culmination of a 30-year Tibetan odyssey
of Himalayan journeys, journalistic coverage, and trips to Tibet and
Dharamsala. The cover story was the result of months of research and weeks
of journeys in Tibet, India, Sikkim and Europe. This was a tough but fair
inquiry, in which I met and talked to the main players without the
hindrance of affiliation to any particular Tibetan Buddhist sect.
The resulting story was not a
statement that the issue was black and white, that Trinley and his backer
Tai Situ were the bad guys, rival Dorje and his backer Sharma, the good
guys. Both "sides" have been responsible for great good in terms of
helping people along the Buddhist path. Both sides may have erred. We are
looking at human strengths, weaknesses and egos, even though the main
protagonists are recognized as tulku, reincarnated enlightened beings. We
are looking at the effects these tulku have on millions of followers
around the world. We are talking about the politics of reincarnation,
dragged out from behind the wall of the mountains of the Himalaya and
exposed to the modern world. Political choices made in recognizing young
lamas have been going on for centuries. Now it is important news, vital to
the future of the Tibetan people. And it is there for the whole world to
see. If they choose to look.
And it matters to the followers of
Tibetan Buddhism. The religion has so much to offer. But most followers
are babes lost in the woods at the start. They rely on their Buddhist
teachers, be they Tibetan or foreign, to point the way. And it can be
particularly traumatic if they find they have been led astray, encouraged
to believe in a spiritual figurehead who is not all he is said to be.
The issues of the Karmapa and the
future of the Dalai Lama matter to the people of Tibet. Yet why are
journalists not looking into these matters in depth? A handful of
international publications, including the New York Times, London's The
Sunday Times and the The Scotsman, have delved into the controversy, as
have a number of well-informed Indian journalists. But the vast majority
of newspapers, magazines, wire and TV services report unquestioningly,
accepting that, in Tai Situ's words, "the Karmapa is the Karmapa, Buddha
is Buddha, Christ is Christ, that's it." Why is this?
Blame in part the reverence for the
Dalai Lama. The Tibetan spiritual leader is arguably the most
compassionate religious leader in the world today. His untiring efforts to
bring peace and reconciliation won him the Nobel peace Prize in 1989. See
him in action, feel the grasp of his hand, hear his kind words to a
Tibetan refugee who has just fled suppression in his homeland. The
reverence even among hard-nosed Western journalists can blind people to
his weaknesses. Judgement is suspended. The Dalai Lama can't be wrong. So
when he throws his weight behind Trinley, journalists follow.
Then there is the "cause" of Tibet,
the simple image of the good guys and the bad guys, the Chinese who
invaded and destroyed Tibet, the Tibetans fighting for their freedom.
Questioning Tibet's spiritual leaders seems to imply a pro-Communist
Chinese bias. It is politically incorrect to look at the murky politics
behind the scenes.
Buddhism calls for truth. It also
encourages followers to ask questions. The Dalai Lama has stressed these
points himself. While his entourage around him might look embarrassed, he
can be direct, he can joke, he can cut through the stifling reverence that
prohibits people from asking questions. But this is complex issue.
Questions have to be asked if answers are to be forthcoming. Some might
argue it would take a thousand lifetimes to really understand Tibetan
Buddhism. But a start has to be made.
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