To understand China, one must first understand Tibet
Tibet is undoubtedly one of the most extraordinary places on the planet. Existing at the highest altitude on earth and kept isolated by a series of mountain ranges, conditions have produced a people and a way of life that is totally distinct. The harsh yet spiritual land boasts untold mysteries, legendary yogis and secret historical wonders hidden within its mountainous wildlands. A strong, militaristic people, feudal Tibet once ruled a vast empire including much of China and Mongolia. Tibetan Buddhism has influenced many regions, but has always been distinct from Han (Chinese) Buddhism. When Tibetan Buddhism became established it followed the Indian model rather than the Chinese, which has led to various disputes. Consequently, much of China’s understanding of foreign religion comes from its dealings with Tibetan Buddhism. All those re-education camps for Muslims in Xinjiang? That’s the handiwork of Chen Quanguo, who learned his trade ‘pacifying’ the Tibet autonomous region.
In short, in order to understand the Chinese and their methods, we should first understand Tibet.
Here’s the situation. On the one hand, Tibetan Buddhism has been brutally repressed. An alleged genocide took place following the 1950s invasion, with 6000 monasteries destroyed and the monastic class either killed or exiled. China conducted a census in the 1980s (there had never been a census of Tibet previously). The census reveals something deep and terrible in the Tibetan Plateau. While elsewhere in China the gender imbalance favoured males, in Tibet it massively favoured females. This phenomenon historically only occurs after mass killings, making for many observers the strongest evidence for the mass killings. Yet despite this, Buddhism is China’s largest religion with sinicized Tibetan Buddhism growing ever more popular among China’s expanding middle class. So what’s going on exactly?
Under Mao, China wanted to eliminate its religious heritage in traditional Marxist style, and tried to recreate that in Tibet, hence the massacres and destruction of monasteries. Unfortunately for the Communist Party of China (CPC), these tactics weren’t very effective in Tibet, with the indigenous power structures enduring. In modern times China’s method is to subvert religion into an arm of the state apparatus. You can worship Allah, Buddha, or Jesus, so long as everything is vetted by SARA (State Administration for Religious Affairs). Subsequently for Tibet, this now means replacing its Lamas with CPC puppets. The problem has been the need to maintain a pretence of following tradition while doing so.
The Dalai Lama is the symbol of unified Tibet, which makes him something like Tibet’s king. He’s not the Buddhist ‘pope’ (although western media often treats him this way) and is actually the spiritual leader of one Buddhist school, the Gelug. The Gelug became the most dominant school in Tibet through politics, bribery and war – actually not too unlike the Chinese! The Dalai Lama does have rivals though. Historically the main one has been the Karmapa, the head of the Kagyu school. The Kagyu and other schools are far less political, following a tantric Vajrayana tradition with many famous yogis and mysterious practices. For generations, the Dalai Lamas have always wanted the Kagyus under their control, with the current Dalai Lama being no different.
When the previous Karmapa died, a great political controversy emerged over who the new one was to be. A lama known as the Shamarpa, who is traditionally responsible for discovering the new Karmapa, selected one, while a cadre of other lamas found another in a split known as the Karmapa controversy. Where this conflict gets truly fascinating is that the Karmapa favoured by China, Ogyen Trinley Dorje, is also favoured by the Dalai Lama, arch enemy of the CPC who for years was funded both covertly and openly by the Americans.
How does that work? Well, as is usually the case in Asian politics, both sides are playing a double game. Both the Dalai Lama and the CPC want control of the Karmapa lineage and saw Ogyen as a potential puppet they could mould in their image. Both saw the young Karmapa as a potential successor and future leader of Buddhism in China, and both sides were gambling on their ability to seduce the young Karmapa over to their side. Like a bizzaro Nazi-Soviet pact, they joined forces in an alliance of convenience, both planning to backstab the other later.
Unfortunately, it looks today like neither will be successful. After first being indoctrinated by the CPC, Ogyen was smuggled into India with the Dalai Lama’s cooperation, where he received a second indoctrination under the Gelug school. Poor Ogyen has found himself surrounded by various different political parties and nationalities all vying for his loyalty, totally separated from the spiritual lineage he was supposed to represent. In an act of defiance, he met with the other, traditionally appointed Karmapa in a highly publicised event. For the political forces proclaiming him as the genuine one, this has been viewed as a huge insult. There are also signs that Ogyen’s mind is failing him, and he has hinted at dealing with bouts of depression – even going so far as to question his own legitimacy at times.
Where does this all leave Tibet and Buddhism in China? Probably in a state of chaos. The current Dalai Lama is nearing the end of his life, and since 2011 has abandoned his plan for the Karmapa to play a role as “regent” in the interim before the next Dalai Lama comes of age. It is likely that someone we haven’t heard of will replace him inside Chinese-controlled Tibet, guided by the hand of the CPC.
It is likely that the Dalai Lama will select his own successor, and the most politically powerful sect of Tibetan Buddhism will have its own split: one backed by the Americans, the other by the Chinese. For the Kagyu school, their previous Karmapa declared that Buddhism could no longer survive free of politics in Tibet. He believed that for Kagyu lineage and traditions to survive, it would have to spread to other places. Like the Jewish exiles under the Romans, the Kagyu and other schools sought to protect their religion from political forces by fleeing. For us in the west, it serves as a reminder of what freedom ultimately means.
