Tibetan Buddhism goes West....
Problems of Adoption &
Cross-Cultural Confusion
From Protective Deities to International Stardom: An Analysis of the Fourteenth Dalai Lama’s Stance towards Modernity and Buddhism
Georges B. Dreyfus
Department of Religions
Williams College
In recent years, the 14th Dalai Lama has acquired the stature of
international star. His travels are media events, his lectures are sold
out, and his books almost invariably land on the bestseller list. For
many, he has acquired an iconic status, representing what is most
authentic and valuable in the Buddhist tradition, a source of
inspiration and moral guidance. This admiration is widely shared not
just among Tibetans but also among the educated public of the
industrial world. From France to Taiwan to the United States, many see
him as an embodiment of Buddhist compassion.
Why are people so taken now by the Dalai Lama, who had previously
been ignored or considered an oddity? This question is all the more
intriguing when one considers that in the West the Dalai Lama rarely
displays his enormous learning and considerable intellectual acumen,
instead mostly offering plain exhortations about being compassionate
and tolerant. Normally such exhortations would leave most people cold,
but when spoken by the Dalai Lama, they win enthusiastic audience
response. Why this enthusiasm? A first answer is that there is more to
communication than mere words, and the experience of seeing a person
who has devoted himself to the well-being of his people and hence whose
life is to a large extent in agreement with his words is itself a great
source of inspiration. When the Dalai Lama exhorts his hearers to be
compassionate, they respond not only to the content of his words but
also, indeed mostly, to their recognition of his very real compassion,
intelligence, charisma, and communicative skills. However, this answer
is not sufficient, as his fame also depends in part on peoples'
perceptions of him and the ideals he has come to represent. What are
these ideals? And are the views of his audiences appropriate, or are
they groundless projections shaped by orientalist expectations?
This essay addresses these questions by examining some of the ideas
with which the Dalai Lama is associated, particularly among Westerners
who see him as embodying the fundamental principles of Buddhism. I will
argue that these ideas are part of what many have called Buddhist modernism,
a modern reconfiguration of the tradition rather than the expression of
its timeless essence. I will also argue that this description of the
Dalai Lama as a Buddhist modernist only partly corresponds to his own
views and practices. My investigation will be focused on the recent
controversy that has surrounded a previously obscure deity, Dorje
Shukden (rdo rje shugs ldan). I will argue that the Dalai
Lama's actions in this controversy show that in many ways he is a
traditionalist Buddhist master whose ideas and practices are quite
different from the irenic version of Buddhism that many associate with
him. I will conclude by reflecting on the complexities and tensions
created by the coexistence of these two seemingly conflicting
frameworks in a single person.
The Dalai Lama As A Buddhist Modernist
Buddhist modernism refers to an understanding of
Buddhism developed first in the Buddhist (mostly Theravada) world at
the end of the 19th century as a reaction to Western domination.1 Buddhist modernism sought to respond to the colonial negative portrayal
of Buddhism by presenting the tradition in modern and positive terms.
The modernist perspective came to depict Buddhism as a world religion
on par with the other world religions, particularly christianity, as
far as having its own founder, sacred scriptures, philosophical
tradition, and so on. Moreover, in this view Buddhism is in many ways
superior to the other religions, because it is based on reason and
experience and does not presuppose any blind acceptance of authority.
Buddhist practice is held to be a highly rational endeavor that is
fully compatible with modern science, whose authority it claims.
Buddhism is even at times presented as an empirical inner science whose
findings are waiting to be discovered by the modern West. As a
religion, if it can be so called, Buddhism is said not to be interested
in dogmas and institutions but merely to provide its followers a path
leading to the overcoming of suffering. This perspective considers
Buddhism to be strongly ethical, devoted to nonviolence, and providing
valuable resources for social action. Its recommended practice is said
to be meditation, while ritual is devalued as popular superstition or
adaptations to the demands of the laity.2
This greatly simplified description characterizes quite well the
belief system of many contemporary Buddhists, particularly in the West,
where many have come to regard Buddhism as more a philosophy than a
religion, a spirituality consonant with the scientific spirit of
inquiry rather than a faith based on the acceptance of dogmas. The
Dalai Lama expresses this view of Buddhism when he says:
"Suppose that something is definitively proven through scientific investigation. That a certain hypothesis is verified and that a certain fact emerges as a result of scientific investigation. And suppose, furthermore, that that fact is incompatible with Buddhist theory. There is no doubt that we must accept the result of scientific research. You see, the general Buddhist position is that we must accept fact. Mere speculation devoid of an empirical basis, when such is possible, will not do. We must always accept the fact. So if an hypothesis has been tested and has been found to be one hundred percent sure, then it is a fact and that is what we must accept."3
In addition to viewing Buddhism as based on empirical investigation
and in agreement with the contemporary scientific spirit, many in the
modern world consider it expressive of the freedom of personal inquiry,
considering its essence to be the tolerance, compassion, and wisdom
gained through that inquiry. For modernists, these qualities are the
true essence of the tradition. Everything else is the result of
deformations created by historical contingencies and local cultures.
Many have argued, however, that this view of Buddhism is a rather
selective reinterpretation of the tradition, which in fact contains
much more than that. This is not to say that the modernist view lacks
ample basis in the tradition. The canon is full of exhortations for
monks and nuns to practice diligently and to rely on themselves rather
than on external salvation. But it should be clear that this view of
Buddhism leaves out more than it includes. In particular, in
overlooking rituals, mythology, and metaphysics, it omits central
aspects of the tradition that are grounded in well-established
canonical material and have played foundational roles in all the
historically known Buddhist traditions. Thus, far from corresponding to
the essence of the tradition, the contemporary perspective is an
innovation inspired by modern ideas about religion and philosophy,
ideas that are often inspired by the Protestant view of religion as a
matter of individual belief and commitment rather than communal
practice.
Some scholars have argued that many of the Dalai Lama's ideas about
Buddhism correspond to Buddhist modernism and that his success is in
large measure a function of his ability to embody the virtues
associated with that stance. One of them, Donald Lopez, has described
the Dalai Lama as "the leading proponent of Buddhist modernism."4 Those highlighting the Dalai Lama's modernist orientation have cited
his Ghandhian advocacy of nonviolence, his participation in interfaith
dialogues, and his strong interest in encounters with scientists. The
Dalai Lama has also said that the essence of the tradition consists of
virtues such as wisdom and compassion, which he contrasts with the more
superficial trappings of culture. For example, he says:
"When we speak of the essence [of a religious tradition], there is no question about suitability and no need to change the basic doctrines. However, on the superficial level change is possible. A Burmese monk in the Theravada tradition whom I met recently in Europe and for whom I developed great respect makes the distinction between cultural heritage and the religion itself. I call this a distinction between the essence of a religion and the superficial ceremonial and ritual level."5
In making this fundamental distinction between the essence of
Buddhism and its cultural expressions, the Dalai Lama seems to agree
with Buddhist modernism, as the distinction allows for adapting the
tradition to the new circumstances of modernity while claiming to
preserve its integrity.
This flexibility has enabled him to connect with great success to
modern audiences, especially in the international arena, for his ideas
correspond to his audiences' needs and fit their worldviews. This may
seem surprising, since most people who come to hear the Dalai Lama
expect to meet an extraordinary personality expressing the views of a
different and even exotic tradition. But what they hear is often
surprisingly familiar to them, and this odd mixture of the familiar and
the foreign has a profound influence on the outcome of the encounter.
This is especially the case with the Dalai Lama's distinction
between superficial ritual and the essence of Buddhism. As noted above,
this idea appeals to the modern audience because it corresponds to the
individualized conception of religion that has come to be widely
accepted in the modern West. When expressed by a personality with such
obvious authority and respectibility as the Dalai Lama, this idea
acquires for his listeners a new legitimacy, being seen as a deep and
eternal truth rather than an expression of the views of the time. Few
in the Dalai Lama's audience realize that what they are hearing is a
reflection of modern developments in Buddhism rather than the
traditional Buddhist conceptions.
For most of its history, however, Buddhism has encouraged a very
different attitude, for example, reserving the actual practice of
meditation mostly for monastic elites and arguing that in an age of
degeneration such as ours it is very meritorious just to practice
ritual or to hold Buddhist views. Hence, when the Dalai Lama
distinguishes the essence of the tradition from rituals, and when he
exhorts his followers to engage in personal religious meditative
practice and not to worry too much about traditional orthodoxy, he is
not so much following an age-old tradition as innovating, adapting
Buddhist ideas to a modern context by advocating lay adoption of
prescriptions traditionally reserved for elite practitioners.
The Dalai Lama As Traditionalist
Yet the description of the Dalai Lama as a Buddhist modernist does
not fully capture the Dalai Lama's thought. Though he certainly
believes in some of the tenets of Buddhist modernism, and though he
also uses the modernist idiom as a way to help his audience understand
Buddhism, in accordance with the classical doctrine of skillful means,
there is much more to the Dalai Lama's ideas and practices than
Buddhist modernism. Overattention to the "modernist" label would
obscure the complexity of his positions and the way his ideas have
evolved. Some of this complexity is revealed by his stance on the
controversy surrounding the Dorje Shukden deity.
The Dorje Shukden dispute concerns the propitiation of a protective
deity, Shukden, a practice that the Dalai Lama has come to condemn in
an increasingly vocal manner.6 Shukden's followers claim
that the practice dates back to a rather obscure and bloody episode of
Tibetan history, the violent death of Drakpa Gyaltsen (grags pa rgyal mtshan)
(1618- 1655), an important Geluk lama and a rival of the 5th Dalai Lama
(1617-1682). Because of his premature death, Drakpa Gyaltsen is said to
have been transformed into a wrathful spirit bent on the protection of
the doctrinal purity of the Geluk tradition. He is also said to be
particularly irked at those Geluk lamas, such the 5th Dalai Lama, who
study and practice the teachings of other traditions, and he is said to
have contributed to the deaths of several of them.
However, it is only during the early part of the 20th century that
this systematic connection between Shukden and Drakpa Gyaltsen was
clearly established. Prior to this date Shukden seems to have been a
worldly god with a relatively limited following. The linkage between
Shukden and the Geluk tradition was mostly the work of Pabongka
(1878-1941), a charismatic teacher who spearheaded a revival movement
within the Geluk tradition, partly in reaction to the success of the
nonsectarian revival among the other schools. Connecting Shukden to
Drakpa Gyaltsen seems to have been a way for Pabongka to justify his
adoption of this originally non-Geluk deity as the main protector of
his movement. The elevation of Shukden's status was one of three key
elements in Pabongka's new understanding of the Geluk tradition:
Vajrayoginl was upheld as the main meditational deity, Shukden as the
protector, and Pabongka or his successors as the guru. Pabongka's
vision was strongly exclusivist: not only was the Geluk tradition
considered supreme, but its followers were warned of dire consequences
if they showed interest in other traditions. Shukden would deal harshly
with them, it was said, just as he had with several earlier eclectic
Geluk lamas who had died prematurely at his hands.
In recent decades the Dalai Lama has opposed this understanding of
the deity in increasingly vigorous ways, going so far as to ban its
followers from some of his teachings. The reasons for his opposition
are complex. In part he is concerned about the sectarian orientation
that accompanies the Shukden tradition. He is also personally committed
to a rival protective deity named Nechung (gnas chung) and to
the accompaying ritual system underlying the institution of the Dalai
Lamas. The latter institution rests on an elaborate and eclectic ritual
system that has close ties with various schools of Tibetan Buddhism. It
has particularly close ties with the Nyingma school, the one most
closely associated with the early empire and its mythological figures
and gods. This link with the Nyingma School is particularly visible in
the roles given to Padmasambhava, one of the foundational figures of
Tibetan Buddhism, and Nechung, an early Tibetan god who is said to be
in charge of protecting the Dalai Lama and his government. The
propitiation of Shukden undermines this eclectic system and its close
links with the Nyingma School. In particular, by presenting Shukden as
an exclusivist deity in charge of visiting retribution upon those in
the Geluk order who have adopted practices from other traditions, the
cult of Shukden threatens the Dalai Lama's reliance on Padmasambhava
and Nechung and hence the integrity of the entire ritual system
underlying the institution of the Dalai Lamas, at least as conceived by
its present incumbent. This threat is captured by the opposition
between Shukden and Nechung. Shukden is said to undermine Nechung, who
resents Shukden's role and actions. Nechung is therefore seen to be
prodding the Dalai Lama to act against Shukden by urging people to
abandon the propitiation of this deity and even acting directly to ban
the practice. The Dalai Lama himself has described on numerous
occasions the strength of his relation to Nechung and the role of this
deity in his decisions concerning Shukden.7
An interesting facet of the Shukden affair has been its illustration
of the Dalai Lama's reliance on divination and other traditional means
to decide important issues. This appears in the Dalai Lama's
description of the way he decided to abandon shukden, whose practice he
himself had taken on at an early age.8 The Dalai Lama says
that, after long considerations, he decided to submit the question to
his other important protector, the Great Goddess Palden Lhamo ('pal Idan lha mo), the Tibetan equivalent of Mahadevi.
Should he continue publicly the practice of Shukden, he asked, should
he do it only secretly, or should he stop altogether? Each of these
alternatives was written on a piece of paper, each of which was put in
a separate small ball of dough. All three balls were then put in a cup
on the altar of the Great Goddess. After propitiating the deity for a
long time in the company of several ritual specialists, the Dalai Lama
took the cup and rolled the balls around in it until one of them came
out. The answer it contained decided the issue: the Dalai Lama would
abandon Shukden completely. This decision has had enormous
consequences. It has changed his personal practice and the ritual
system of the Dalai Lama institution, and has also prompted him to
become increasingly vocal in his opposition to Shukden.
The Dalai Lama's use of divination may surprise those who think of
Buddhism as a rational philosophy shunning rituals. But for most Asian
Buddhists, ritual is an essential element of the tradition and
adherents make no excuse for its importance. The Dalai Lama is no
exception. He has been open about his reliance on this form of
divination and his general commitment to the rituals of protectors. In
an unpublished interview, the Dalai Lama expressed to me his complete
confidence in the value of this practice, one he has used at several
key junctures of his life, justifying it with the phrase: "I am a
Buddhist after all, am I not?"9 This statement speaks
volumes for the Dalai Lama's own understanding of his tradition, an
understanding in which protective deities, rituals of propitiation, and
modes of divination are self-evidently valid. For him, it is obvious
that being a Buddhist implies that one believes in protective deities,
follows their rituals, and relies on them for important decisions in
life.
Who Is The "Real" Dalai Lama?
The traditionalist Tibetan Buddhism of the Dalai Lama's personal
practice seems quite different from the modernism underlying his
distinction between "the essence of a religion and the superficial
ceremonial and ritual level."10 One could be forgiven for
asking: who is the real Dalai Lama? Is he the traditionalist who
believes in protective deities or the modernist who engages in dialogue
with scientists?
The answer is that the Dalai Lama is both. In his personal
practice, he is a traditionalist. Every day he does a brief ritual for
his main protective deity, the Great Goddess, without whose protection
he would not undertake any important task. Even travel must be placed
under her auspices, and in all his journeys the Dalai Lama carries with
him a painted scroll of this deity. In addition, the Dalai Lama has
monks from his monastery Namgyal Dratsang (rnam rgyal gwra tshang)
come to his residence to perform the appropriate daily and monthly
rituals for all the relevant protective deities. The Dalai Lama
considers all these rituals foundational to the Dalai Lama institution
and essential to his personal practice. At the same time, in his public
work he is a modernist who extols the practice of meditation, urges his
Western audiences to go to the essence of the tradition (instead of
being caught in the cultural trappings of Tibetan Buddhism), and
engages in ongoing dialogues with scientists that include discussion of
empirical findings. On the international scene he is, in addition, an
inspired speaker who argues for the rationality of compassionate
actions and the irrationality of armed conflicts.
The coexistence of such disparate belief systems in a single person
may seem surprising, but recognition of this complexity is important
for understanding who the Dalai Lama truly is. Clearly, depictions of
the Dalai Lama as a Buddhist modernist fail to capture a large part of
his actual practice and thinking. In contrast to figures like
Dharmapala and Buddhadasa, the Dalai Lama is not, for the most part, a
reformist of his own tradition, which he tends to uphold firmly but
without rigidity. It is primarily in his dealings with the West that
the Dalai Lama acts as a Buddhist modernist, using that idiom to
express to this audience some of the Buddhist ideas that he strongly
believes. He has also acted as a modernist in some of his advocacy
within the Tibetan community, for example promoting democratic ideas
and practices as being in accordance with Buddhist ideals.
The Dalai Lama's modernism is not just an act for Western
audiences. For him, wisdom and compassion truly are the essence of the
tradition. It is also true, however, that for him the protectors,
divinations, and traditional rituals are also important. He sees no
contradiction between the traditional and the modern, for the two
orientations operate at different levels and are relevant to different
contexts. The orientation that deals with the ultimate goals of
Buddhism is traditionally considered a higher level of practice
reserved for elite practitioners, but it also resonates with modern
expectations about religion. The other orientation is equally
important, but is reserved for traditional contexts and relates to more
immediate concerns. Thus it is that the Dalai Lama's addresses to
Western audiences can reflect his perceptions of their needs, while his
personal practice can be guided by other considerations. There is no
inherent contradiction in this.
But the lack of a logical contradiction does not mean a lack of
tension, and the scope of what the Dalai Lama thinks he can share with
his Western audiences has shifted over the years. Again, this can be
illustrated by reference to the Shukden affair, where in the early
years of the quarrel the Dalai Lama restricted his remarks to Tibetan
audiences. In the late 1970s, when I first learned about this quarrel,
the Tibetan monks I spoke with were surprised by my ignorance of it.
Yet at the time very few Westerners were even aware that the split
existed. Only gradually, as devotion to Shukden was slowly spreading
among Westerners, did the Dalai Lama begin speaking of it to Western
audiences, and even then he did not immediately express the full extent
of his opposition. Only after the Dalai Lama had banned Shukden
followers from his teachings, and only after the 1997 murder of three
monks in apparent response to this ban, did he begin expressing his
views on Shukden more fully to Western audiences. His new openness was
greeted with puzzlement. I was sitting in such an audience near New
York a few years ago when the Dalai Lama started to explain his views
and policies regarding this deity. I remember the reaction of malaise
among the members of the audience, who were puzzled and made uneasy by
this confrontation with an aspect of Tibetan Buddhism that they did not
understand. "Why should we be concerned by this?" they seemed to be
saying.
This reaction shows the degree to which the two aspects of the
Dalai Lama's thinking had formerly been distinct, as the Dalai Lama had
usually kept from his Western audience those ideas and practices that
he felt would not be understood. But this separation has not been
rigidly maintained. When the Dalai Lama estimates that the stakes are
too high or that the time is right for putting things more clearly, the
separation breaks down, regardless of the audience's discomfort. At
this point the extent to which the Dalai Lama is not a Buddhist
modernist becomes clear, and the audience often reacts with great
discomfort.
The Dalai Lama's modernism also has deep roots, and clearly is
important him. Thus, it is more than just a display for Western
audiences. Though he understands his primary task to be one of winning
not just converts to Buddhism but sympathizers to the Tibetan cause,
and though he has shaped his presentation accordingly, he has also been
influenced by his contacts with modern institutions. He was initially
educated in a traditional Buddhist way, mostly following the curriculum
of the great Geluk monastic universities. The Dalai Lama would later
remark that this education was unbalanced and inappropriate for a
person who was to assume a leadership role.11 He was
therefore completely unprepared when the modern world came crashing in
on him in 1950, and he coped by trying to learn on the job how to deal
with the modern world.
As he did so, he encountered several important sources of
influence. One of them came from his dealings with the Chinese.
Particularly important in this regard was his trip to China in 1954-55.
His encounter with Chairman Mao on that occasion made a lasting
impression, as did his visits to Chinese factories. More important,
however, may have been his encounters in India, which he visited
extensively in 1956 before settling more permanently in 1959 (see page
189). There the Dalai Lama encountered people he could identify with,
including not only Prime Minister Nehru but also other lesser-known
figures such as Jayaprakash Narayan, Acharya Tulsi, and President
Rajendra Prasad. Through their own Hindu or Jain modernism, these
people modeled how to be religious while also participating fully in
the modern world. Their modernism influenced the Dalai Lama greatly as
he developed the outlook and style that have marked his relations with
the West.
The Dalai Lama's modernism has also led him to take fairly radical
positions within the Tibetan community. On the political level, he has
insisted that the community in exile adopt, despite the misgivings of
most of its members, a constitution in which the Dalai Lama's role is
limited and submitted to democratic oversight. The Dalai Lama has also
consistently supported the spread of modern education among both lay
and monastic Tibetan communities, often against the vigorous opposition
of more conservative elements. On the religious level, he has voiced,
often sarcastically, his distrust of the institution of reincarnated
lamas. I remember hearing him say in the early 1970s that many
reincarnated lamas seem great when they are young but disappoint when
they grow older: "It is like the teeth of children. They are so cute
and yet they rot when they age." On the other hand, the Dalai Lama has
never embraced the modernist distrust of ritual, and in many respects
he remains deeply imbued with traditional Tibetan attitudes.
The Dalai Lama's orientations have changed in subtle but important
ways over the years, though their evolution has not been noticed by
most observers. Living in Dharamsala in the 1970s and 1980s, I was able
to observe some of these changes firsthand. At the beginning of the
1970s I was struck by the Dalai Lama's refreshingly unconventional
ideas, particularly his willingness to relativize and even put to the
side certain aspects of his tradition. For example, once when I asked
about the practice of the lam rim (lam rim) "Stages of the
Path," he replied, in essence, "Leave it out. It is just what is in the
book, not what you actually need to do." However, sometime in the 1970s
he seems to have become more traditional. The turning point appears to
have been the winter of 1975-76, when the Dalai Lama was undergoing an
important retreat. The Dalai Lama has never fully explained what
happened at that retreat, yet from that date onward he began expressing
publicly his opposition to Shukden and evidenced a more traditional
approach to Buddhist practice. Also, he almost completely dropped his
unwillingness to recognize reincarnated lamas, and his formerly biting
remarks were replaced by more conventional admonitions.
This return to a more traditionalist attitude, which perhaps could
have been expected, did not entail a repudiation of Buddhist modernism.
Indeed, modernism remained his favored way of interacting with the
West, which he started to visit seriously only at the end of the 1970s,
when he was already well over forty. Nevertheless, his traditionalist
turn made him more committed to practices such as the propitiation of
protectors, particularly those protecting the Dalai Lama institution.
This in turn led to the confrontation with the followers of Shukden,
which has threatened to split the Geluk tradition. His change in
attitude has also had consequences for the Tibetan community in exile,
particularly for its Buddhist institutions, where some of the promises
of Buddhist modernism have yet to materialize.
In sum, to describe the Dalai Lama simply as a Buddhist modernist is to ignore the important role that traditionalist practices and ideas play in his life. It is also to simplify greatly the views of this complex figure. Very real tensions exist between his traditionalist and modernist stances, and the balance among those stances has changed over time. To international audiences he continues, in modernist fashion, to emphasize the core notions at the heart of Buddhism, and he does not expect his Western disciples to take on the full array of Tibetan customary practice. At the same time, he personally practices the full array of Tibetan Buddhist ritual, and continues to uphold the concepts underlying the institution of the Dalai Lama. Inhabiting these two very different aspects allows him to fulfill his main mission, that of promoting the Tibetan cause and leading the Tibetan people. His modernism allows him to function as an internationally recognized spiritual leader at ease within the various contexts of modernity, whereas his commitment to practices such as that of protectors puts him in touch with the more traditional aspects of the religious culture of his people. However useful this inhabitation may be, it is also not without its difficulties, as we have seen in this essay. Moreover, there is the nagging question of the future of such a stance. Will a future Dalai Lama be able to conciliate so brillantly the conflicting demands of tradition and modernity? This question is inherent to the Dalai Lama institution and the mode of selection on which it is based. But this question acquires a particular urgency in the modern context where the very existence of Tibet seems to be at stake.
Notes
1 This term was coined by H. Bechert in his "Buddhist Revival in East and West," in H. Bechert and R. Gombrich, The World of Buddhism (London: Thames and Hudson, 1984), pp. 275-6.
2 This brief account of Buddhist modernism draws from Lopez' summary in Prisoners of Shangrila (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1998), 185, as well as H. Bechert, " Buddhist Revival in East and West," in H. Bechert and R. Gombrich, The World of Buddhism (London: Thames and Hudson, 1984), pp. 275-6.
3 The Dalai Lama, Answers: Discussions with Western Buddhists (Ithaca: Snow Lion, 2001), p. 24.
4 D. Lopez, Prisoners of Shangrila (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1998), p. 185.
5 The Dalai Lama, A Policy of Kindness (Ithaca: Snow Lion, 1990), p. 85
6 For a detailed account of this controversy, see G. Dreyfus, "The Shuk-den Affair: History and Nature of a Quarrel," Journal of International Association of Buddhist Studies vol. 21, n. 2 1999): pp. 227-270.
7 See the Dalai Lama's collected speeches from 1978 to 1996 on the subject: Gong sa skyabs mgon chen po mchog nas chos skyong bsten phyogs skor btsal ba'i bka' slob (Dharamsala: Religious Affairs, 1996)., pp. 17-9.
8 Sa skyabs mgon chen po mchog nas chos skyong bsten phyogs skor btsal ba'i bka' slob, pp. 36-41.
9 Interview with the Dalai Lama, October, 2000.
10 The Dalai Lama, A Policy of Kindness, p.85.
11 The Dalai Lama, Freedom in Exile (New York: Harper, 1990), p. 25
GEORGES DREYFUS was a Tibetan Buddhist monk for
more than fifteen years and became the first Westerner to receive the
degree of Geshe [Lha rampa], the highest degree of Tibetan monastic
universities. He received his Ph.D. at the University of Virginia in
1991 and since then has been teaching Buddhism in the Department of
Religions at Williams College, Mass. His publications include: The Svatantrika-Prasangika Distinction: What Difference does a Difference make? (in collaboration with Sara McClintock), The Sound of Two Hands Clapping: the Education of a Tibetan Buddhist Monk, and Recognizing Reality: Dharmakirti's Philosophy and its Tibetan Interpretations.
This Essay was published in The Dalai Lamas: A Visual History Edited by Martin Brauen in 2005, pp. 172-79.
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