My Spiritual Journey Read online

  I was afraid that, in a burst of rage, the crowd might try to fight with the Chinese garrison. Spontaneously elected leaders called to the Chinese to give Tibet back to the Tibetans. Everyone demanded the end of the occupation and the reestablishment of the Dalai Lama’s authority. Hearing their shouts, I realized the fury of the demonstrators, and I knew that they had become uncontrollable.

  I felt caught between two volcanoes. On one side, my people were rebelling as one against the Chinese regime. On the other, a powerful and aggressive occupation force was standing, ready to charge. If a battle broke out, the inhabitants of Lhasa would be massacred by the thousands and the rest of the country would be subjected to an implacable martial law, with its inevitable crimes and persecutions.

  On March 10, 1959, when the Chinese army, stationed around Lhasa, aimed its cannons at the Dalai Lama’s summer residence, thousands of Tibetans spontaneously gathered to form a wall with their bodies. The crowd did not disperse in the days that followed, and when, on March 17, the Chinese army attacked, men, women, old people, and children offered their lives for the Dalai Lama.

  In street battles that set twenty thousand Tibetans against forty thousand Chinese soldiers, the Lhasa insurrection of 1959 continued for three days and three nights before it was repressed. In Lhasa, devastated by mortar fire and submachine guns, the survivors say that the corpses of men, dogs, and horses barred the narrow streets flowing with blood. On the morning of March 18, 1959, dawn rose on the death rattles of the dying, the groans of the wounded, and the stench of widespread blood.

  There were about ten thousand dead, and four thousand demonstrators were arrested. Arrests and summary executions continued for a long time after the events.

  The day before the massacre, disguised as a soldier, the Dalai Lama had fled. Under the protection of the Freedom Fighters—resisters who came from Kham—he had taken the road of exile to India, hoping that his departure could spare the massacre of his followers. But his wish was not granted.

  My Children, You Are the Future of Tibet

  Forced exile

  WE MUST HAVE BEEN a sorry sight when we were welcomed by the Indian border guards. There were eighty of us, all physically exhausted by the journey and morally overwhelmed by the ordeal.

  When we arrived in Tezpur,5 hundreds of messages, letters, and telegrams were waiting for me. People from all over the world sent me their greetings and encouragements. I was overwhelmed with gratitude, but also with a sense of urgency. The priority was to prepare a brief declaration for the many people who were waiting for a word from me to relay to the media. So I reported the facts frankly and in moderate terms. Then, after a light lunch, we took the train for Mussoorie.

  Hundreds or even thousands of people rushed to see us as we traveled by, waving at us and wishing us welcome. In some places they even had to clear the tracks so we could move forward. The news spread quickly throughout the Indian countryside, and it seemed as if everyone knew about my presence on board that train. Thousands came one after the other to welcome me with shouts of “Dalai Lama Ki Jai! Dalai Lama Zindabad!” (Long live the Dalai Lama! Long life to the Dalai Lama!).

  I was very moved. In three large cities on my journey—Siliguri, Benares, and Lucknow—I had to leave the train car and take part in impromptu meetings with immense crowds that welcomed me by tossing flowers. The whole journey seemed like an extraordinary dream. When I think back on it, I am infinitely grateful to the people of India for their effusive kindness at that moment of my life.

  A few days later a communiqué from the Chinese news agency arrived, condemning my Tezpur statement as “a gross document full of faulty reasoning, lies, and subterfuge.” According to the Chinese version of events, I had been kidnapped by Lhasa rebels acting in the pay of “imperialist aggressors.”

  I was stunned to find that the Chinese were accusing imaginary imperialists, such as the Tibetans residing in India, the Indian government, and my “clique in power,” instead of admitting the truth that the people they were claiming to liberate had revolted against them.

  In 1959 the Dalai Lama met the world and the world met Tibet. But the international press dwelled mostly on the exotic nature of Tibetan culture, with articles that foregrounded a mixture of the fantastic and the religious, and relegated the political question of China’s illegal occupation of Tibet to the background. Thus, Paris Match, in its April 28, 1959, issue, glorified “the Tibetan Joan of Arc” who was supposed to have miraculously guided the Dalai Lama during his journey through the highest mountain passes in the world. The magazine didn’t shrink from praising the supernatural powers of the young spiritual master, whom it compared to a magician summoning the protection of benevolent spirits he knew how to tame.

  The situation, however, was only getting worse in Tibet. Learning that the Dalai Lama had managed to reach India, Mao is said to have cried out, “We have lost the war!” But the pace of so-called democratic reforms only accelerated in all the regions of Tibet, none of which were spared. The Chinese Communist Party completely eliminated the Tibetan ruling class; all opponents were massacred, lamas were arrested, and the religious and artistic treasures of monasteries were looted. In central Tibet, out of 2,500 monasteries, only 70 were spared.

  The Chinese occupation caused tens of thousands of deaths in a few years; multiple testimonials gave the same reports: Tibetans were not only sent to the firing squad but burned alive, drowned, strangled, hanged, buried alive, drawn and quartered, and decapitated.

  Between March 1959 and 1960, eighty thousand Tibetans followed the Dalai Lama on the roads to exile. Nehru’s support needed to be won if the lives of the Tibetans who had taken refuge in India were to be organized into a functioning community. Nehru, however, although sincerely desirous of aiding the Tibetans, was anxious to maintain good relations with Maoist China.

  My priority is stopping the bloodshed

  ON APRIL 24, 1959, Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru came to see me in person in Mussoorie.6 Our interview lasted for several hours, in the presence of a single interpreter. I undertook to tell him in detail what had happened since I had returned from Beijing to Tibet, following his insistent advice.7 I went on to declare that I had acted toward the Chinese as he had suggested, with justice and honesty, criticizing them when there was reason to do so, while still trying to preserve the terms of the Seventeen-Point Agreement.

  At certain points in our conversation, Nehru hit the table with his fist. “How is that possible?” he exclaimed once or twice. I continued, even though it was obvious that he could be a little abrupt. To conclude, I told him very firmly that my main concern was twofold: “I am determined to regain Tibet’s independence, but for now, my priority is to put an end to the bloodbath.” At these words, Nehru couldn’t restrain himself anymore. “That’s not possible,” he said in a voice full of emotion. “You say that you want independence and at the same time that you don’t want a bloodbath. Impossible!” His lower lip was trembling with rage as he spoke.

  I began to realize that the prime minister found himself in an extremely delicate and embarrassing position. In the Indian Parliament, a tense new debate on the Tibetan question had followed the news of my escape. For years Nehru had been criticized by many politicians on his position toward me. I understood that my future and the future of my people were much less certain than I had imagined.

  Nehru’s reserved political support was accompanied by an exemplary commitment to organizing the education of Tibetan children. Many Tibetan children had arrived in India with their families, who had lost everything, and Nehru, aware of their tragedy, suggested to the Dalai Lama that specialized schools be made for them so as to preserve the Tibetan language and culture. An independent organization for the education of Tibetans, within the Indian Ministry of Education, was set up, and school buildings were constructed at government expense.

  Children of hope

  NOT LONG AFTER our tumultuous arrival in India, I offered the following words of encouragem
ent to my new exiled community.

  “My children, we want to make you all into devoted, useful members of our community. You should work with all your heart for the people, the religion, and the cause of Tibet.

  “My children, you are human beings. You are neither plants nor flowers, which fade in the heat of the sun or are destroyed and scattered by hail and storms. Unlike plants, you can take your fate in hand. Whatever physical sufferings you may endure, you should always keep a clear conscience and a stable, solid mind.

  “The Red Chinese have caused each of us great suffering. We should not forget these atrocities. You should work hard to acquire knowledge and fight with the weapons of justice and law. Day and night, you should strive to acquire greater culture in order to serve your religion and your people. That is your personal responsibility.

  “My children, you should continue the work begun by your elders. Let’s not stand aside and do nothing, as if we were waiting for rain to fall from the sky. We all have to work hard. Young and old, let us try to realize our common objective.

  “My children, the more I look at you, the happier I feel. You represent the hope for a better tomorrow, and you will manage to overcome the difficulties that lie ahead. You are at the threshold of existence; you should become stronger each day, without wasting your precious time. You are the future of Tibet.”8

  In April 1960, one year after exile began, the spokesman for a camp in Jammu came to see His Holiness with alarming news. During the transfer of a group of refugees to Ladakh, a blizzard had blown up. With exposure to the cold added to malnutrition and lack of medical care, the children had been decimated.

  The fate of children was an absolute priority for the Dalai Lama. In Tibet the Chinese had begun a campaign of “patriotic reeducation,” separating children from their parents and even deporting the smartest ones to China. As for the young refugees in India, they were threatened by hunger and disease. An entire generation was in danger.

  The Dalai Lama’s decision was immediate. He asked members of his family and officials in his entourage to take charge of the sick or malnourished children by creating a building for the purpose with the help of the Indian government. An emissary was sent to the refugees with the following message:

  “Your life is very hard. I have decided to create an establishment that will welcome your children. If you entrust them to me, that will simplify your life and your children will learn to be independent and to count on themselves.

  “What’s more, they will become real Tibetans, heirs of our newfound freedom. They will never forget their parents, their ancestors, their brothers and sisters, their compatriots who sacrificed themselves for them. Of course, I am not imposing this by force; parents and children can make their own choice freely.”

  When the spokesman had finished, there was a moment of silence. Then the father of a little four-year-old girl spoke. He had not accepted the indoctrination that prevented Tibetans from being Tibetan in their own country and forced them to condemn their people, their homeland, and their religion. So with his daughter perched on his shoulders, he and his wife had followed the Dalai Lama’s footsteps beyond the Himalayas. “I think,” he concluded, “that an excellent chance is given us in offering to care for and educate our children.”

  The disabled grandmother of a little Tibetan boy stood up to say, “I have prayed to see with my own eyes the death of those who committed such atrocities in our country. Unfortunately, I am too old; I think I will die here. But there is my grandson and all the other children. So I pray that they can be taken care of so they can prepare to avenge all our dead soon.”

  The father of another child also declared, “I pray I see Tibet free as before, before I die. Long live the Dalai Lama!” The refugees repeated, “Long live the Dalai Lama!” And the children themselves asked their parents to let them go to the Dalai Lama, to the establishment he had created for them.

  In 1960, at the same time that the Dalai Lama’s immediate entourage was taking responsibility for the children, the Indian government opened secondary schools under the authority of an autonomous administration. That same year a Tibetan minister of the interior, in collaboration with Indian and international authorities, was charged with overseeing the assimilation of refugees, who were spread all over India in about fifty camps.

  The Dalai Lama also organized a Ministry of Culture and Religion to rebuild all the great monasteries and their universities in the land of exile.

  Already during his brief reign, in Tibet itself, the Dalai Lama had undertaken the modernization of Tibetan feudal society. In exile, he introduced democracy to his government by adopting in 1961 a temporary constitution that established a distribution of authority, equality of citizens before the law, free elections, and political pluralism.9

  This democratization, along with the beginning of the secularization of Tibetan political institutions, was the Dalai Lama’s best response to Chinese propaganda that accused him of wanting to restore his personal power.

  I am a proponent of secular democracy

  EVEN THOUGH NO BUDDHIST SOCIETY has ever developed a democratic system in its government, I personally have great admiration for secular democracy. When Tibet was still free, we cultivated the isolation that nature had given us, wrongly thinking that we could guarantee our internal peace and security that way. Paying no attention to the changes the world was going through, we almost didn’t notice that India, one of our closest neighbors, had become the largest democracy in the world after peacefully winning independence. Later on, we had to suffer to learn that, on the international scene as at home, freedom must be shared and is enjoyed in the company of others. One cannot make exclusive use of freedom.

  Although the Tibetans outside of Tibet have been reduced to the status of refugees, we have the freedom to exercise our rights. Our brothers and sisters in Tibet do not have the same right to live in their own country. That is why we exiles have the responsibility of anticipating and imagining the Tibet of the future. Over the years we have put into play a model of authentic democracy in various ways. The fact that the word democracy is familiar to all exiled Tibetans attests to this.

  I have long awaited the time when we could define a political system that was adapted both to our traditions and to the demands of the modern world, a democracy rooted in nonviolence and peace. We recently instituted some changes that will reinforce the democratization of our administration in exile. For several reasons, I decided that I will not be the leader, or even a part of the government, the day Tibet regains its independence. The next leader of the Tibetan government should be elected by popular vote. There are many advantages to such a reform, which will allow us to become an authentic, complete democracy. I hope that, thanks to these changes, our people will be able to express themselves clearly on decisions that concern the future of Tibet.

  Our process of democratization has touched Tibetans all over the world. I think that future generations will look at these transformations as the main accomplishments of our experience in exile. Just as the introduction of Buddhism to Tibet forged our nation, I am convinced that the democratization of our society will reinforce the vitality of Tibetans and allow our governing institutions to reflect their dearest desires and aspirations.10

  Liberty, equality, and fraternity are also Buddhist principles

  THE IDEA THAT PEOPLE can live freely as individuals who are equal in principle and hence responsible for one another is perfectly in keeping with Buddhism. As Buddhists, we Tibetans respect human life as the most precious gift, believing that the Buddha’s philosophy and teaching is the way to the highest of freedoms—an aim that can be reached by men and women alike.

  The Buddha saw that the aim of life is happiness. He also saw that, while ignorance leads beings into endless frustration and suffering, wisdom frees them. Modern democracy is based on the principle that all human beings are equal, that each of us has the right to live freely and happily. Buddhism also recognizes that human beings ha
ve a right to dignity, that all members of the human family have an equal and inalienable right to be free. This freedom is expressed not just on the political level but also on the basic level, where everyone should be free from fear and need. Whether rich or poor, educated or not, whatever country we come from, whatever religion we follow, whatever ideology we espouse, each of us is above all a human being like any other. Not only do we all want happiness and try to avoid suffering, but it is legitimate to pursue these aims.

  The institution established by the Buddha is the Sangha, or monastic community, which itself observes democratic rules. In such a fraternity, individuals are equal, regardless of social class or native caste. The only subtle distinction rests on seniority in ordination.

  Individual freedom, on the model of Liberation or Enlightenment, was the main goal of the entire community, and it was accomplished by cultivating the mind in meditation. Everyday relationships were based on generosity, respect, and attention to others. By leading a life without a fixed abode, monks detached themselves from possessiveness, without living in total isolation. The custom of begging only reinforced the awareness of their dependence. Within the community, decisions were made by vote, and disagreements settled by consensus. Thus, the Sangha was exemplary in terms of social equality, sharing of resources, and democratic process.11

  During his trip to China in 1954, the Dalai Lama declared his enthusiasm for Marxism, allowing that the socialist economy is closer to the Buddhist ideal than ruthless capitalism. In Marx’s philosophy he found the principles of equality and social justice dear to Buddhism: “My mind could well be redder than the Chinese leaders. In China the Communist regime is governing without Communist ideals,” he declared again in 2008, in expressing his dream of a synthesis between Buddhism and Marxism that could turn out to be highly effective in politics.12