Historical Lessons for Buddhism: The Shadow

The Tibetans and Mongols see their spiritual teachers as fully enlightened Buddhas. Over time, they have increasingly idealized their national history and the biographies of their great masters. Their lands are protected by great bodhisattvas who have embodied themselves in their most famous kings and high lamas. Stories of miraculous powers abound. The greatest lamas come to have a long line of previous incarnations of famous Tibetan and Indian masters, traced all the way back to the time of Buddha Shakyamuni. They are capable of doing no wrong. Devotee historians explain even their most controversial actions as examples of their “enlightening conduct.”

The result of this national syndrome of denying the shadow is that the repressed negative aspect was projected onto supposed enemies of the Dharma. The Tibetan Buddhists as a whole cast this shadow onto the practitioners of the native religion of Bon, while the Mongols, with the encouragement of the Tibetans, projected it onto the leaders and followers of their native shamanic tradition. Within Tibet, one Buddhist lineage would cast the shadow onto another, and even within the same tradition, the members of one monastery or students of one teacher would project it onto another monastery or master. Consequently, sectarian fights and persecution periodically erupted.

Protector cults rose in prominence directly proportional to the intensity of fanatic guru-devotion. The more the disciples idealized their spiritual masters and lineage, denying their shadow, the more gruesome and intense their rituals became, requesting the “enlightening activity” of their special lineage or monastic protectors to vanquish all foes that might interfere with the enlightening work of their masters and lineage. This tendency was often strengthened by the teachers themselves, many of whom were authoritarian figures preaching what amounted to fundamentalist sectarianism. Faithful disciples totally denied any wrongdoings and justified their teachers’ strong actions and words by seeing their masters as manifestations of wrathful protectors. In the name of preserving the purity of the Dharma, these teachers often caused great damage to Buddhism, their countries and themselves.

This syndrome of idealizing the lamas, and consequently denying and projecting the shadow, is continuing in modern times as well. A number of Asian and Western teachers portray the heads and leading lamas of their tradition, their lineage founders and successors, and their own spiritual masters as super-human figures, as deities performing miracles. They are often extremely paranoid of other teachers and lineages, imagining that everyone is intent on persecuting them. They morbidly dwell on any historical injustices that might have happened to their lineage in the past and still seek to perpetuate the medieval religio-political wars of old. They encourage their foreign disciples to take up arms over real or imagined past grievances that have nothing to do with them and push them into a closed-minded sectarian mentality, often focused around the cult of a Dharma protector or the personality cult of a guru. It is similar to a modern demagogue trying to whip up Japanese sentiment to take sides in the European War of the Roses or the American Civil War.

In addition to the damage that this fostered paranoia inflicts in diverting and distracting people from their Dharma practice, many other serious problems arise as a consequence. Because their teachers and lineage holders have been presented as deities incapable of doing any wrong, devotees feel totally betrayed when they learn of the abusive activities of some of these figures.

Each society is particularly sensitive to a different type of abuse. In the United States, where a Puritan heritage combines with the view that individual freedom is an inviolable, “God-given” right, people are incensed by sexual abuse. In the former Communist countries, people are outraged by anyone who exploits them or others for money or power. Their Marxist education, coupled with their present economic difficulties, has sensitized them to members of a privileged class financially exploiting the poor for their personal gain. Furthermore, when modern spiritual teachers have used armed guards to take over monasteries in India in order to realize their Dharma political aims, Eastern Europeans, reminded too closely of Russian Communist leaders ordering out tanks in the streets, feel total disgust.

Regardless of the type of abuse that might have occurred, we must take steps to control and stop it. We must heal the wounds in order for Buddhism to take firmer root and grow in a healthy way.

History suggests a possible way for dealing constructively with the shadow and thus avoiding its unconscious projection. Buddhism succeeded in establishing itself and enduring in Tibet and Mongolia by demonstrating its victory over Bon and shamanism, the so-called enemies of the Dharma. The lesson to be learned is not that, in order to survive, modern-day Buddhism needs to denigrate and persecute the native and traditional religions of the West as its externally projected shadow. Rather, strength to endure will come from Buddhism demonstrating victory over its own internally acknowledged mistakes. Then, similar to the healing process for incestuous families, we must take steps to help those who feel betrayed to reestablish their trust.

The Buddhist community needs to publicly show concrete steps it is taking to tackle its shadow side of abuse. Buddha gave the guidelines for doing this, namely the purification practice of confession and applying the four opponent forces. To begin with, we need to openly admit that the abusive behavior of some of our teachers did happen and was wrong. We should not act like abused children who still wish to be loyal to their dysfunctional families and maintain self-esteem. They deny that anything untoward ever happened and defend the parent who harmed them. This generally leads to misplaced loyalty, with the wounded persons perpetrating the same abuse they received onto the next generation. Nor does it help to adopt a “Gang of Four” mentality by denying that the abusive behavior of our spiritual teacher was improper and that the problem lay solely with the disciples who tried to imitate the conduct of their master, but who, unlike him, were unenlightened.

On the basis of this open admission of wrongs, the first opponent force is to feel regret, rather than guilt, for what has transpired. This would entail a public apology, offered with dignity and humility by a community of committed teachers of the Dharma, both traditional Asian Buddhist and foreign. For some purposes it is more convenient and comfortable for Western Dharma teachers to meet and act apart from their Asian counterparts, such as to avoid loyalty conflicts when discussing more contemporary models for guru-disciple relationships. But in this instance, the healing process can only succeed if all concerned teachers of Buddhism, regardless of origin, speak with one voice.

It is of no help to hide behind complaints that this is the degenerate age and it is no longer possible to have pure practice of the Dharma. Nor should we let ourselves sink into doubts about our choice of spiritual paths. Such a defeatist attitude belies a child-like feeling of guilt with which we identify ourselves and present-day Buddhism as helplessly “bad” because of the mistakes that some of its modern proponents have made. We must be mature in cleaning up our own house.

Our public apology should contain the second opponent, the promise that we, as a community of concerned Buddhist elders, will try our best to take measures so that this will not happen again. Although we cannot guarantee the behavior of others, at least as a group we can take responsibility for our own future actions.

The third opponent force is to reaffirm our foundation and direction. One step towards this was with the Open Letter published by the Network of Western Buddhist Teachers after their first conference with His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama in Dharamsala in March 1993. This letter affirms that as Dharma teachers we will adhere at least to the five Buddhist precepts not to kill, steal, lie, engage in unwise sexual behavior or drink alcohol. Since many teachers interpret these vows differently, and some rather loosely, we need to define this code of ethics clearly. Otherwise, students will be confused and have difficulty reestablishing their trust.

[See: An Open Letter from the Network for Western Buddhist Teachers]

When parents raise children without any discipline, their youngsters frequently feel their parents did not really care about them. They grow up feeling unloved and insecure. And when parents are unsteady in their discipline or give conflicting messages of what is permissible and not, their children become even more insecure and anxious. In fact, Communist totalitarian regimes have often deliberately left their laws unclearly defined in order to keep their population in a constant state of insecurity and anxiety.

Similarly, if we do not clearly delineate the boundaries between what is proper and improper, or constructive and destructive, and if we leave basic ethics open to each teacher’s interpretation, resulting in a diversity of conflicting guidelines, students will not feel secure with Buddhism. Healthy spiritual growth within an emotional context of trust and security will only be possible through the Buddhist path when its ethical boundaries and limits are clear.

In clarifying these ethical issues, we must not be afraid of being labelled “Dharma police” who, feeling “holier than thou,” are trying to impose morality on others. No one is forcing anyone to sign their names to this code. But surely the need to heal Dharma students’ feelings of betrayal is more important than fending off the accusations of self-righteousness made by those who, in the name of religious freedom, might be trying to cover up the questionable behavior of themselves or their teachers. As many people in Third World nations often say, democracy and freedom can also mean chaos and the freedom to exploit.

There are several historical precedents for such reform. Many people of tenth-century Tibet were wounded by supposed masters who taught ordinary sexual contact and ritualized taking of life as a Buddhist spiritual path. To help the people reestablish their trust in Buddhism, the great kings of western Tibet sent translators to India to reaffirm the sources and establish new standards and codes. Likewise, at the end of the fourteenth century, Tsongkhapa reformed the Buddhist monastic system in Tibet. Many monks had abused the rules of discipline, causing numerous followers to lose trust and faith.

The fourth opponent is taking remedial measures to counter-balance the harm we have done with some positive actions. Voluntary community service would seem an appropriate choice. This could take the form of teaching the underprivileged or administering to the physical and spiritual needs of the sick, old and dying.

The purification practice of confession and applying the four opponent forces can be undertaken both on an individual basis by those teachers who have acted abusively themselves, and also on a group level. Publicizing the process, but in a tasteful, non-pretentious and non-groveling manner, will not only be healing for the followers of Buddhism as well as the abusers, but will also be helpful in bringing about the long, healthy life of the Dharma.

It is essential to heal the Buddhist community of dysfunctional guru-disciple relationships so that students can be loyal to their teachers’ positive qualities rather than unconsciously exhibit misplaced loyalty to their negative ones, such as adopting a sectarian and closed-minded view. As in healing the wounds in an incestuous family, this process is twofold. First, those who have been hurt must be helped to demystify their abusive parents, whom they may have been viewing as either monsters or gods who have betrayed them. When they can understand their parents’ own troubled background, which can explain in part, although not justify, their abusive conduct, the wounded children can begin to see their parents as human beings and begin the process of exoneration. They can then be helped to acknowledge their abusive parents’ positive qualities. Abused children often feel that they themselves are “bad” since how can a monster parent give birth to anything but a monster child? But by seeing that they are also the inheritors of good qualities as well, they can begin to improve their self-image and gain self-esteem.

The same mechanism can be applied within the context of an abusive or incestuous Dharma family. The spiritual masters must be demystified. Rather than emphasizing how disciples are to see them as enlightened Buddhas, which most people completely misunderstand, it is far healthier at first to help students see their teachers’ human side. Acknowledging the shadow aspect within their teachers will help them not to project that shadow onto themselves or others as a result of their denial. Thus, if we ourselves are a Buddhist teacher, it is helpful to share with our students our own doubts and struggles with the teachings. By pointing out our past and present weaknesses and how the Buddhist teachings have been and are continuing to help us mature, we will inspire our students that they too can grow with the Dharma.

One complication in the process of demythifying spiritual masters is the issue of “crazy wisdom.” Just as abused or battered children often defend the parent who has hurt them and deny any wrongdoing, likewise Dharma students who have been sexually abused by their teachers will often justify and rationalize their master’s unconventional sexual behavior as “crazy wisdom.” Many other faithful disciples of this master will then champion this explanation even more loudly as they become defensive at other’s recriminations against their teacher. Let us examine the historical facts about the tradition of crazy wisdom within Tibetan Buddhism so as to gain an accurate, non-romanticized picture.

The early Kagyu tradition in Tibet, at the time of Marpa and Milarepa, in the eleventh century, emphasized intensely personal relationships between masters and disciples who were mostly laypersons, as well as oral transmissions and solitary retreats. The lineage had not yet been organized into an individual tradition with monasteries. Soon, however, many masters such as Milarepa’s disciple Gampopa became monks. Eventually, following the Sakya example, several of the outstanding monastic masters chose their nephews to be their Dharma successors as abbots of their monasteries. Thus began the formation of the twelve Dagpo Kagyu sects, many of which were organized around the leadership of a hereditary religious nobility.

In the second half of the fifteenth century, when several of the leaders and patrons of a few of the Kagyu sects were deeply involved in power politics and sectarian disputes, a reform movement arose within Kagyu. Several highly accomplished tantric masters popularly known as “madmen,” such as Tsangnyon Heruka and Drukpa Kunle, abandoned monastic life and adopted an unconventional living style and mode of behavior. Many wandered as filthy beggars, drinking not only great amounts of alcohol, but also urine, and eating feces and garbage. They had obviously achieved such a high level of attainment that anything they imbibed was like ambrosia to their system. Rather than causing them harm, it enhanced their practice.

The objective of this “madman” movement was not simply to protest against the growing trend towards academic Buddhism within the Gelug monasteries. Primarily it was a reaction against the unbridled growth of wealth and pomp within the Kagyu monasteries with their hereditary lines of abbots coming from politically powerful noble families. Many Kagyu monasteries had become fronts from which the controlling aristocratic families could wage wars of power politics. The madmen yogis called for a return to the spirit of the early Kagyu masters and the Indian mahasiddhas such as Tilopa and Naropa from whom the Kagyu had derived. They compiled the biographies and songs of Milarepa and other early yogis of their tradition, and called for a return to their intensive, non-pretentious mode of meditational practice, without any concern for power, wealth, glory or fame, and without reliance on a religio-political empire of monasteries.

The crazy wisdom tradition, therefore, was intended to shock Dharma students to drop their spiritual pretense and their preoccupation with conventional, worldly concerns and return to a simple mode of life and pure practice. This tradition of madmen yogis has continued down to the present day, primarily in several of the Kagyu and the Nyingma traditions. A few great masters in the Gelug and Sakya traditions as well have used unconventional behavior and talk as a teaching style, even if they have remained celibate, teetotaler monks.

His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama has said that modern-day Buddhist teachers who drink alcohol and have frequent sex with different partners in the name of crazy wisdom should be able and willing to prove their level of spiritual attainment. For such a master on such a level, drinking alcohol and imbibing urine and feces should be the same. If they cannot pass this test, they are like the Buddha’s example of a fox trying to go where only a lion can tread. They are acting as if they were on a much higher spiritual level than they are. Their behavior can only be considered abusive and will lead to suffering.

The Sixth Dalai Lama did not take monk’s vows and was known to have had sex with several women. Once, a monk had an audience with the Dalai Lama on the roof of the Potala Palace and openly criticized his behavior. The Dalai Lama took him to the edge of the roof and proceeded to urinate over the side. Before his stream of urine hit the ground, the Dalai Lama drew the urine back up into his penis. He turned to the monk and said, “When you can do that, then come back and we can talk about my conduct with women.” Masters of crazy wisdom who consort with partners should be able to do as the Sixth Dalai Lama did.

Even if modern teachers can pass these tests and are qualified masters of crazy wisdom, they would do best to follow the historical models of this tradition. The madmen yogis certainly spoke rudely and openly about sex and acted in a shocking manner in order to help disciples break through their blocks. And they may indeed have occasionally had sex with some very special disciples for whom this would be helpful. But they did not have sexual relations with a vast array of students, a different one each day, as their usual mode of instruction. They were not promiscuous and certainly did not exploit others for their own sexual pleasure. They taught students by using unconventional manners only when this would be helpful. They were in full control of what they were doing and had ascertained carefully beforehand the disciples’ maturity and receptiveness to outrageous means. They tried to help people break out of their dependence on the aristocratic, materialistic Dharma establishment and never built up wealthy, powerful Buddhist organizations or centers of their own.

If modern Buddhist teachers cannot pass the tests, it is dishonest for them to hide behind claims of being madmen yogis or to silently agree when others explain their behavior as crazy wisdom. It would be far healthier and more helpful for everyone concerned, both teachers and disciples, to admit the human side of such teachers, while still acknowledging all their good qualities and benefit they have done.

It may be helpful to explain to students some of the human pressures their abusive teachers might have been feeling that could help them understand why they were driven to act as they did. Many Asian teachers, if they are monks, might have been pushed by their parents or society to enter a monastery as a child and take celibacy vows. This was not their voluntary choice based on realizing what these vows really meant. There are even some Western children now who have been similarly sent to monasteries when they were very young by their zealous parents. When such monks disrobe or are in the process of so doing, they may feel entitled by their previous sacrifice to make up for lost time and be as sexually active as possible, especially in a permissive Western context.

Buddhist teachers who are currently, or were previously, monks or nuns receive tremendous pressure from their monasteries and nunneries to raise money and find sponsors in the West. Even Westerners who teach are subject to these pressures by their own Asian teachers. There are so many monks and nuns to house and feed, especially within the Tibetan refugee community, where facilities in India are being overwhelmed by the influx of recent escapees from occupied Tibet. With the end of Communist repression, there is similar economic pressure in Mongolia and Russia as the people revive their Buddhist traditions. We can predict an analogous phenomenon when the conditions ease in Tibet, Inner Mongolia, East Turkestan, China, North Korea, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia and Myanmar. We can understand some of the financial abuse by Buddhist teachers in the West as arising from these conditions. Also, people raised in poverty, or refugees who have lost all they owned, or survivors of concentration camps or repressive conditions similar to such camps often feel entitled, as in the above example with sex, to amass as much wealth as they can once they have reached the rich lands of the West or the Far East.

People who have been raised either in repressive monasteries or totalitarian societies in which they lacked all personal power and freedom may also feel entitled, once they gain independence, to as much power over others as they can take. Misplaced loyalty to their past may also be operating in such cases.

A feeling of entitlement may in some instances also explain the abuse of alcohol or drugs by those who grew up in teetotaler monastic conditions. Substance abuse can also arise as an anesthesia against personal and cultural pain among refugee communities or those whose societies and cultures are being persecuted and obliterated. In this respect, Tibetans are not very different from the Indigenous peoples of North and South America, the Inuit of the Arctic and Aboriginal Australians.

As for Buddhist teachers raised in the West who abuse sex, money, power, alcohol or drugs, a variety of personal reasons may explain their behavior. Personal factors, of course, also play a great role with abusive teachers from traditional Asian Buddhist societies. The problem might also have arisen due to their faulty understanding and practice of the Dharma. If practitioners have a proper understanding of voidness, they will understand and have confidence in the laws of cause and effect and will never act abusively. No matter how highly realized someone might be or claim to be, no one is above ethical responsibility and the laws of cause and effect.

It is important to explain to disciples that they are also partially responsible for the spiritual devastation they feel at being betrayed by their abusive teachers. The fault is in their misunderstanding of what a guru-disciple relationship entails. Many disturbed people, often from backgrounds of a broken home or dysfunctional family, are seeking an idealized substitute father or mother in their spiritual guide. Or they are so overwhelmed by the economic hardships of their lives, particularly in the former Communist countries, or by narco-violence or other harsh social factors, that they long for someone, such as a teacher, who is omnipotent and omniscient and can save them from taking responsibility to save themselves. When spiritual teachers are the objects of such powerful transference, and especially when they are not well informed or sensitive to the social conditions and psychology of their foreign disciples, they can easily and even unconsciously fall into abusive patterns of countertransference.

The translation term “guru-devotion” may also contribute to the problem, since it implies a mindless slave attitude towards an all-mighty master. A less misleading translation is perhaps “a wholehearted commitment to a spiritual mentor” for whom one has firm conviction in their good qualities and appreciates their kindness. This commitment refers to the unwritten, often unspoken contract between disciples and teachers, made on the basis of a long-term mutual examination of each other, that the students will regard every action of the masters as intended to teach them a lesson, even if that lesson is not to act in the same way. They will never question the motive behind the action, nor criticize or become annoyed with anything their teachers say or do. This is a very advanced type of practice, requiring great patience, humility, self-control, and above all, maturity. Many disciples nowadays do not have these qualifications.

In demythifying the guru, however, we must be very careful not to discard the practice of a wholehearted commitment. Tsongkhapa has said it is the root of all progress on the spiritual path. In fact, the demythification process can often enhance people’s respect for their teachers. For example, His Holiness the Fourteenth Dalai Lama never hesitates, when he teaches a difficult text, to point out the occasional passages he does not understand. This does not shatter the audience’s faith in him. On the contrary, disciples have even more respect since His Holiness could easily have covered up his doubts by rapidly reading through the passage and just giving the oral transmission. But by openly admitting, with humility and humor, his own shortcomings, His Holiness demonstrates clearly his own understanding of everything else in the text, no matter how quickly he has read it aloud to the crowd. This only strengthens people’s wholehearted commitment to him.

Once we admit the teachers’ human or shadow side, we can appreciate their excellent qualities within its perspective. Otherwise, the teachers would be so perfect that no one could approach them. If we put them on a pedestal, all we can do is worship them. Buddha himself explained this when he said that enlightened beings manifest in various forms, having flaws and faults, so that disciples will be able to relate to them.

We can appreciate the value of acknowledging the positive qualities of abusive teachers or traditions by examining a historical precedent. During the century and a half following the destruction of the Buddhist monasteries in early ninth-century Tibet, people were often abused by charlatan teachers spreading practices of sex and violence in the name of Buddhism. They felt betrayed by Buddhism in general. The healing process not only involved reaffirming the Indian sources of Buddhism and reestablishing its codes but also acknowledging the positive aspects of the early Tibetan experience of Buddhism and demonstrating that the new period was both an inheritor and a continuation of this “family” tradition.

Everyone acknowledged the invaluable contribution of Padmasambhava in overcoming the obstacles for bringing Buddhism to Tibet. The discovery, several centuries after his visit, of his hidden treasure-text teachings within the Nyingma tradition demonstrated his continuing help. The historians of the period apotheosized the early religious kings of Tibet, such as Songtsen Gampo and Tri Songdetsen, as manifestations of the deity Avalokiteshvara, compassionately caring for the welfare of the Tibetan people. At about the same time, religious leaders and biographers announced first that Atisha’s disciple Dromtonpa and then later the First Karmapa were further, modern-day incarnations of Avalokiteshvara, continuing to protect Buddhism in Tibet. Seeing this continuity of positive aspects, people could reestablish their trust in Buddhism and feel they were loyal to the good they had inherited. A similar healing process can occur if we acknowledge the beneficial contributions made by even the most abusive present-day teachers.

The responsible teachers in each modern society in which Buddhism is taking root need to decide what are the positive aspects of their culture to which practitioners can be loyal and what aspects of the Buddhist teachings resonate with them. People in the United States, for instance, favor democracy in which each person’s opinion and feelings are important and need to be heard and addressed. North American Buddhists need to explore how this culturally specific attitude can fit into a teacher-disciple relationship, especially in the context of a gathering of a group of disciples.

We need to find forms of respect that students can show to their Western teachers that will be comfortable with their cultural upbringing. Australians, for instance, are fiercely egalitarian and are loath to treat anyone with special respect. The student-teacher relation when both are Westerners will naturally entail different external customs than when the spiritual masters are from a traditional Buddhist Asian culture. It may not be necessary for Westerners to prostrate to other Westerners in order to show their respect.

We need to find appropriate models not only for student-teacher relationships, but also for monks and nuns. It is very difficult for Western monastics to live the same style of life as their Asian counterparts. Yet the model of Christian monastics does not seem suitable either. We need to sort out many issues, such as gender bias, financial support and the relation with the lay and the traditional Asian Buddhist monastic communities. There is much work to do.

Although Buddhism has been growing the strongest perhaps in the United States, Great Britain, France and Germany, we must always be aware that Buddhism is also becoming established in many other countries around the world. Different aspects and issues will have to be stressed in each society, especially in the wounded cultures that are emerging from the shadow of totalitarian Communism, apartheid, ethnic cleansing, Latin American or African dictatorship and narco-violence. Those in Western countries in which Buddhism has become better established can inspire Buddhists in the developing world by the example of their efforts. But they must allow for them to develop their own brands of Buddhism, being ever sensitive to the dangers of accusations of cultural chauvinism and colonialism.

There are many things to think about, and it is important not to be in a hurry. It took centuries for qualified masters to adapt Buddhism to the Chinese, Tibetan or Thai cultures. It will undoubtedly take an equally long time in the Western and developing countries. The process requires thorough knowledge of our own and the Buddhist civilizations, and much experience. We can learn much from history and from each other. The work has just begun.