More On Tulkus

Yesterday Namkhim left a comment asking about the origins of the Tibetan tulku concept (25th June). So here goes. Now I'm venturing into an area here which is not really my forte, so someone can correct me if I'm wrong. But this is my understanding. The tulku system evolved in response to a problem, the problem of political succession. For some centuries the Sakya sect of Tibetan Buddhism held power in Tibet. Being lay rulers, the male heir of the earlier ruler inherited the throne. At one point, a power struggle resulted in two branches of the family assuming the throne in turn, a system that still prevails. In the late 16th century the Gulupa sect became the dominant power in Tibet with the help of their Mongol enforcers and after a good deal of killing and sacking of monasteries, let it be said (The Chinese communists were certainly not the first to destroy Tibetan monasteries and murder monks). But this created a quandary. As the head of the Gulupa sect (later to be called Dalai Lama) was a celibate monk, he would have no natural heirs. This problem was solved by ‘recognizing’ where the former head had been reborn and ‘reinstating’ him. This was, one would have to admit, a rather ingenious solution - it fitted reasonably comfortably with the doctrine of rebirth and also with the idea that a bodhisattva would be willing to be reborn again and again to help sentient beings, in this case by being their ruler. Unfortunately, it also had one very serious drawback. As the new ruler would always be a child, it would be at least 20 years before he would assume power. This interregnum gave whoever was appointed regent time to establish his own power base before the new Dalai Lama came of age. The reason why most Dalai Lamas ‘left their bodies’ while still young was so that the regents could hold on to power. Apparently, the tulku system existed before it was institutionalized by the Gulupa, but only intermittently and mainly within individual monasteries. Today, most positions of power in Tibetan Buddhism – abbots of monasteries or heads of sects – are filled by persons who are supposedly their predecessors reborn. These positions are often monopolized by certain families and occasionally involve a great deal of political wrangling (e.g. the two Kamapa Lamas). Tulkus are, in effect, petty medieval monarchs - their births are accompanied by miraculous signs, they are ‘enthroned’, their position is legitimized by being officially ‘recognized’ by another high lama, the sons of married tulkus inherit their position, and their writ is presented as a ‘Dhamma teaching’. In imitation of ancient Indian monarchy, many tulkus also claim to be deities or ‘emanations’ of deities; Avalokitesvara, in the case of the Dalai Lama and the Karmapa lamas, Amitabha in the case of the Panchen Lama, etc. Some of the more powerful and influential tulkus (or those who aspire to it) effect all the splendor and rituals that are usually associated with monarchs. As is well-known, Chogyam Trumgpa had his own private army, the so-called Vajra Guards, by no means the first tulku to do so.
As a cultural phenomena, the tulku system is a fascinating one. But I’m not at all sure the best way to transmit the insights of the Vajrayana tradition to the West is through the medium of medieval Central Asian power structures. I also have very strong doubts that someone must be a great Dhamma teacher simply because he was born into a particular situation. Did not the Buddha say ‘No one is born a brahman’? When a Westerner becomes a Buddhist should he or she have to buy into all the trappings of traditional Asian culture - be it Tibetan, Thai, Japanese or Sri Lankan? Shouldn’t I be able to practice vipassana without believing in nats as the Burmese do? Why can't I develop Bodhicitta without spinning a prayer wheel like a Tibetan? Can’t I practice the Five Precepts without reciting them in Pali with a Thai accent? During the 19th century Western missionaries in Asia insisted that their converts wear trousers, eat with a knife and fork and swear allegiance to Queen Victoria, in short, become an Englishman. They mistook their culture, which is limited in time and space, with the Gospel, which is universal. They finally realized that this approach did not work. It’s a lesson many Asian Buddhist teachers in the West and their Western disciples still have to learn.
In 2007 when I was in Dharmasala I witnessed something which epitomized to me one of the problems of the transmission of the Dhamma to the West. As I stood on the side of the main road watching the crowds go past, I saw two young Tibetan monks greet each other by giving a ‘high five’. A matter of moments later a Western woman walked passed wearing Tibetan dress, her hair in plats like those worn by Tibetan women, a prayer wheel in her hand and even imitating that Tibetan swaying way of walking. Again I ask – can’t a Westerner practice the Dhamma without becoming a Tibetan, Thai or Burmese clone?