Choegyal Nyima Lhundrup Kashopa
The four Council Ministers of Tibet in the 1940s as guests of the Nepalese Emissary. From right to left, sitting on chairs: the Nepalese Emissary, Kalon Kashopa, Kalon Lama Ramba, Kalon Surkhang, and Kalon Phunkhang.
In the Service of
the 13th and the 14th Dalai Lamas
Untold true stories of Tibet
In the Service of the 13th and the 14th Dalai Lamas: Choegyal Nyima Lhundrup Kashopa, Untold true stories of Tibet
© Jamyang Choegyal Kasho, 2015
ISBN 978-3-95702-008-6
Editors in chronological order:
Ms Kate Saunders, Mr Ben Carrdus,
Mr Tsering Gonkatsang, Dr Robert Barnett.
All rights reserved.
Published 2015 by Tibethaus Deutschland e.V.
Kaufunger Straße 4
60486 Frankfurt am Main, Germany
www.tibethaus.com
Calligraphy by Puntsok Tsering Duechung
Cover design by Ann Katrin Siedenburg
Book design and typeset by Manfred Jung, Bad Vilbel, Germany
Printed in Poland by Drukarnia Dimograf Sp.zo.o., Bielsko-Biala
Foreword by Tsering Shakya
A note on historical background by Robert Barnett
Acknowledgements
Preface
Photographs: My Lamas
Introduction
Telling Kashopa’s Story
Photographs: Kashopa
Chapter 1
The Tibet of Kashopa’s Early Years
Chapter 2
The Lungshar Conspiracy: One Leap from Prison
Chapter 3
1935 – Kashopa as Tsipon
Chapter 4
Kashopa and the First English School in Lhasa
Chapter 5
Tsipon Kashopa and Dzasa Tsarong
Chapter 6
The Yigtsang and the Tsikhang
Chapter 7
Kashopa and the Reting Regent
Chapter 8
An Act of Perfidy: The Reting Rinpoche Affair
Chapter 9
Kashopa’s Time as Kalon
Gedun Choephel and Kashopa
Chapter 10
The Death of Reting: Sera Jey Monastery Pushed to the Brink
Chapter 11
A Power Struggle Threatens the Dalai Lama
Chapter 12
Kashopa’s Second Prison Term
Chapter 13
Aspects of Kashopa’s Character
Chapter 14
Kashopa’s Life after his Second Term of Imprisonment
Chapter 15
The Cultural Revolution
Chapter 16
The Unusual Deaths of My Parents
Chapter 17
The Result of Accumulating Merit
Chapter 18
Kashopa’s Last Service to HH the 14th Dalai Lama
Afterword
My Own Story: How I Came to Write the Biography of Kashopa
Appendices
1 Anthony Aris’s letter
2 Kusho Palden Gyatso’s letter
3 Langdun Palden Namgyal’s letter
4 Dr Gyurme Dorje’s corroborative evidence for the sacred photographs
5 HE Dagyab Rinpoche’s letter on Kashopa and Drepung Monastery
6 Kusho Champa Thegchok’s letter
7 Kusho Palden Gyatso’s letter
8 Langdun Paljor’s testimony on the authenticity of the photograph of Gedun Choephel
9 An account of Kashopa in the Biography of Geshe Jampa Rolwé Lodrö
10 Note from Yuzhen-la
11 Tibetan and English versions of Tsering Woeser’s article on Kashopa
Glossary of Tibetan Terms
Biographical Notes
In the Tibetan literary tradition, there has been a long history of autobiographical and biographical work by lamas known as namthar. These works focus mostly on the spiritual accomplishments of great Buddhist figures.
The primary purposes of these writings are to provide a guide for ordinary people in leading a virtuous life and spiritual attainment. Historically, there have only been a few biographies of secular leaders. For secular figures, writing a biography was seen as a display of arrogance and self aggrandizement. One of the earliest works is known as rlangskyipotibserurgyas pa, written in the 14th century, which tells the family history of the Lang clan who dominated Tibetan politics in the 14th-16th Century. The only other extensive biography of a secular officials is Dokharwa Tsering Wangyal’sbka’ blonrtogsbrjod (Autobiography of a Cabinet Minister), written in 1762. These books were written during turbulent periods in Tibetan history and both drew inspiration from the Tibetan saying that “a person who does not know his family history and repay their kindness is no better than a monkey in a forest”. Tibetans place great importance in remembering the kindness of their parents and often the compassionate, nurturing of infants is used as a metaphor of the innate compassionate nature of all sentient beings. In Tibetan society we generally avoid mentioning the names of those who have passed away, particularly our family member’s names, instead we use a more endearing or polite formulaic suffix dam pa before a name. A deceased father is referred to as yab dam pa, “noble father”. I find that the Tibetan language has an intricate way of expressing respect and endearment that cannot be easily rendered in English. Jamyang Chogyal’s book about his yab dam pa is not only a remembrance of his father, but also a means of repaying the kindness and life long learning shown and administered by his father.
The name Kapshopa Chogyal Nyima is well known to the older generation of Tibetans who had lived under a free Tibet. A man of humble origins who came to the attention of the 13th Dalai Lama and rose to the heights of Tibetan society and politics. Kapshopa’s rise and fall is worthy of a Tolstoy novel such as “War and Peace” or “Dr Zhivago”, which play against the background of war and transition from feudal Russia to the transformation under the Russian Revolution. His story is situated in Tibet from the reign of the 13th Dalai Lama to the rule of the Chinese Communist Party, which marked the transition of Tibet from a feudal society governed by theocracy and lay aristocrats to colonial society under modern China. During this period, his life underwent dramatic changes, the stories of this transformation are marked by grand achievements as well as tragic circumstance. The story Jamyang Chogyal tells of his father is full of the drama of Tibetan high society and political ambition of the governing class. Whatever the flaws of old Tibet might have been, it was of their own making, no different from the political life of any society. Rise and fall are inherent to the life of a political figure. However the life of the Kapshopa family could also be the life story of any Tibetan, a close and affectionate family concerned with daily existence, wealth and fame, both gained and lost. Yet at the same time, Kapshopa’s story is not an ordinary story, the drama and events narrated by his son take place amid the background of the inner workings of the Tibetan political elite. As such, the views and events in the book are important in our understanding of the history of 20th century Tibet. It was a period where Tibet governed itself as an independent nation with control over its internal and external affairs. Jamyang Chogyal’s recollection of events as told by his father and his own lived experiences provides a first-hand account of recent Tibetan history and as such it will serve as an important source for our understanding and appreciation of Tibetan history.
Kapshopa Chogyal Nyima came from a humble family, but later rose to become one of the most influential figures in government. He occupied the position of Kalon, a minister in the Tibetan government. As a towering political figure in the first half of the 20th century, he was a controversial figure. For his supporters, of which they are many, as shown in his book, he was a generous and devout patron of lamas and religious institutions. He was regarded as fearless in his judgement and willingness to make difficult decisions. But for his detractors Chogyal Nyima was an ambitious and shrewd figure motivated by self-advancement. In the Machiavellian world of politics, no one can hold a saintly position and the very nature of politics contaminates all participants. In this book, Jamyang Chogyal presents a compelling case for reconsideration of his noble father’s personality and role in the recent history of Tibet.
One of the themes that emerge in the book is very interesting and reveals much of Tibetan politics at the time. In old Tibet, politics were the affair of a few elite monks from the three great monasteries near Lhasa and lay aristocracy made up of two classes, Depon (sdedpon) families, long established families that can trace their lineage to historical rulers of Tibet and the families of the Dalai Lama. This group of families was seen as established elite and enjoyed great privileges both in terms of economic resources and political power. The second category known as Gyer pa (sger pa) are made up of families with land and estates but do not belong to the nobility. They can nonetheless be promoted and achieve great power. Kapshopa Chogyal Nyima was one such figure. His family estate was in Gyantse, far from the center of politics in Lhasa. He came to Lhasa as a young man to serve in the 13th Dalai Lama’s court. His first position at the court was a member of the retinue during the Dalai Lama’s travels. While at court, he came to the attention of the Dalai Lama, who promoted him to a higher position. With the Dalai Lama’s patronage, Kapshopa Chogyal Nyima rose rapidly in the Tibetan political hierarchy. As a newcomer of humble origins, he was resented by the Depon families. The Dalai Lama’s patronage was a blessing yet attracted enmity from the aristocratic elite.
During the 13th Dalai Lama’s reign, the conflict between the historic noble families and those of humble origins promoted by the Dalai Lama was most notable. While the Dalai Lama was alive, they exercised great power, but after the lama’s death, they were immediately deposed. The most notable case was that of Thupten Kunphel la, a monk official, who was known as the Dalai Lama’s favorite (spyangsal) and after his death of the Dalai Lama, he was arrested and exiled from Lhasa, The negative portrayal of Kapshopa can be viewed as originating from the conflict and rivalry between these sets of noble families.
Jamyang Chogyal has written a compelling case for his yab dam pa, noble father’s place in the recent history of Tibet. As he writes, he is not writing what might be called an objective history, but the truth as he and his family sees it. Yet it is a frank and detailed account of an important Tibetan historical period and as such it provides a window into the political life of Tibet. The publication of the book adds to our understanding and knowledge of Tibet. By writing this book, Jamyang Chogyal has served faithfully his noble father’s memory, but also provided a source of information on the recent history of Tibet for future generation of Tibetans, for whom the recollection of a once free and independent Tibet will surely provide inspiration.
Prof Tsering Shakya,
University of British Columbia.
Professor Tsering Shakya is Canada Research Chair in Religion and Society in Asia at the University of British Columbia. Professor Shakya’s most expansive work to date The Dragon in the Land of Snows: A History of Modern Tibet Since 1947 (Pimlico, London 1999) was acclaimed as “the definitive history of modern Tibet” by The New York Times, and “a prodigious work of scholarship” by the UK’s Sunday Telegraph.
The Tibetan issue is, at its core, a dispute between the former Tibetan government and the current Chinese state over ownership of a snow-bound plateau that is the size of Western Europe. Until the turn of the last century, the Tibetan and the Chinese governments had been on mutually respectful terms for centuries, their relations managed and explained largely through Buddhist rituals and formulae.
The current dispute, which has lasted just over a hundred years, and which led in the 1950s and 1960s to tens of thousands of Tibetan deaths in war, rebellions, uprisings and protests, is at its most basic level over how that relationship should be described in modern terms. Tibet had been an appendage of some unclear kind to the Chinese empire since at least the early 18th century, but functioned more or less as a separate nation, with the Tibetan government free to run the country largely as it wished. This arrangement collapsed when the British sent their army to invade Tibet on a gratuitous mission in 1903-4, largely seen by its generals as their last chance for imperial adventure. Having slaughtered some 3-4,000 Tibetans on their way to the Tibetan capital, the British forced the Tibetan government to surrender to their terms, leaving the 13th Dalai Lama, then head of the Tibetan state, to flee to Mongolia for safety.
The British left within six months, but the results of their adventure were long-lasting: their escapade provoked the Qing imperial court in Beijing to decide for the first time to make Tibet into an integral part of Chinese territory, and in 1910 it sent an army to invade Lhasa to enforce that claim. That invasion failed because of the collapse of the Qing Dynasty a few months later, but the assertion that Beijing had absolute sovereignty over Tibet and Tibetans strengthened in intensity and resolve across the years and became the source of the on-going century-long conflict between Tibet and China. It took China four decades to put that growing resolve into action, because of a lengthy civil war and invasion by Japan, and during that period the Tibetans were able to run their country as a completely independent state in any practical sense. But in 1950, a new and much more powerful government of China, under the leadership of Mao Zedong and the Chinese Communist Party, staged a second 20th-century invasion of Tibet by China. The Tibetan government sent appeals to the United Nations and to former allies like Britain and India, but, finding itself without significant support, it was quickly defeated militarily and had no choice but to surrender to the Chinese forces. In May 1951, Tibetan representatives in Beijing signed a document known as the 17 Point Agreement in which for the first time a Tibetan government recognized Tibet as part of China.
In that agreement, the Chinese leadership allowed the government of the 14th Dalai Lama, then just 15 years old, to continue to function much as in the past, and promised that “there will be no compulsion on the part of the Central Authorities” with regard to reforming society, religion, or language use in Tibet. The agreement collapsed in 1959 after uprisings spread across Tibet, a result largely of radical reforms, including the pillaging of monasteries, initiated by Chinese forces in eastern Tibetan areas from about 1956 onwards. The uprising failed, and the Dalai Lama, together with several leading officials from his government and some 80,000 other Tibetans, fled to India, where an exile government was established and where most of the exiles still remain, living as refugees in camps and settlements around the sub-continent.
Jamyang Choegyal’s book provides a detailed glimpse into the inner world of Tibetan elite politics in the first half-century of this conflict. It focuses on the last decade of the period between the 1910 and 1950 invasions of Lhasa by armies from Beijing, and on the life and thinking of his father, a leading government official at that time. Several works about that epoch have appeared in English in recent years, written by other leading aristocrat-officials or their offspring, including at least five by the Dalai Lama or his immediate family. But those writers and their subjects had fled with the Dalai Lama in 1959 and had little knowledge of events in Tibet following their departure, as well as very limited familiarity with Chinese language or politics. This book is thus the first of this kind to be written in English without a ghost writer or intermediary by a Tibetan brought up and educated in the Chinese system.
Kashopa (often written as Kabshopa or simply Kasho), the subject of this book, was one of the few leading officials to have remained in Lhasa after the Chinese authorities took over the direct running of the government there in 1959. Over the following decades, all officials of his rank and many of the lower ones were required to write repeatedly about their views and personal experience as part of propaganda efforts by their new rulers to denounce the system that the aristocrats had led. Their writings were designed primarily to impress domestic audiences in Tibet and China with the rightness of Chinese claims, and they are heavily marked by the rigid censorship and control of the Chinese authorities. Few if any of them have been translated into English or any other western language. This work is thus the first to offer detailed insight into the thinking of a Tibetan leader from the group that remained after 1959.
The biography of Kashopa describes the extraordinary complexity and narrowness of options that he faced as a leading official in a society in extreme crisis. Victors and losers in battles to control nations and their peoples usually tell clear stories of right and wrong, each from their own perspective, but this account of Kashopa’s life is neither of these: rather than presenting its story in terms of national success or failure, it is a chronicle of a man who was, we are told, a highly moral person in a situation where there was relatively little room for morality, and where morality was not a primary factor in political outcomes. He and his colleagues were confronted by a series of weak choices, none of which could begin to solve their national problems, and few if any of which could be agreed upon in any case. In fact, it seems as if the more important issues were rarely even discussed.
This may sound like an indictment of individual leaders, but the history shown here suggests more complex factors were involved. The book is a history of an institution, the traditional Tibetan government, as much as of a person, and it describes a system of government in which decision-making was often all but impossible. Although it was highly formalized in terms of rank and privilege, we are shown that the Tibetan government lacked impersonal mechanisms for enacting policies: everything depended on relationships with power-holders. We are given glimpses of the complex chains of influence and indebtedness that had to be built up before any decision could be made, and that could often be reversed at the last minute by someone with more money, more influential relatives, or better promises. We see also the opportunities for corruption and control that were available to those, such as favourites and stewards, who were close to the most important leaders. And we learn of the long history of suspicious deaths of Dalai Lamas around the time they reached their majority, as well as the venal conflict between the two regents in the 1940s that led to a brief civil war and yet more questionable deaths, assassination attempts, and sporadic war.
We can see from this account that the limitations on the authority of leaders were bypassed too easily, that the parliamentary system was too rudimentary and weak, and that the ethos of entitlement linked to noble birth or high office made it all but impossible for serious debate or sustained reflection to be sustained, or for a culture of reform to develop. But even if Tibetan governance in the 1940s is seen as outdated and deficient, viewed up close its problems seem not so distant from those of governments today. Kashopa’s often futile efforts to achieve even the most trivial objectives are reminiscent of politicians even in advanced democracies now, where the most obviously beneficial outcomes often cannot be realized because of conflicting interests within elites. States like the People’s Republic of China are vastly different from pre-1959 Tibet in terms of economic distribution, social mobility, ideology and technology, but in certain ways their leaders face similar limitations—they too risk finding themselves deadlocked and forced into inaction by a nexus of interest groups, intra-elite conflict, endemic corruption, and power deficits. There are huge differences between these systems, but the central message of the book—the limited capacity of leaders to achieve outcomes that are for the common good—has wider application than just to pre-1959 Tibet.
But in many ways this book is even more important because of the history of its writer. Jamyang Choegyal was a leading member of the younger Tibetan aristocrats trained in Beijing by the new rulers, completely fluent in their language and their way of thought. Almost unique in his mastery of Tibetan, English and Chinese, he worked or lived under each of the four main systems of government that have run Tibet in the last century. He was brought up under the traditional system within which his father served as a cabinet minister in the 1940s; during the transitional period in the 1950s, when the new Chinese rulers gradually introduced new ideas while allowing the old government to remain nominally in position, he was being educated in English in India or in Chinese in Beijing, but had lengthy periods at home in Lhasa; the extreme leftist regime under Maoist autocracy in the 1960s and 1970s saw him sent to a remote nomadic region of western Tibet; and he became a member of the Chinese Communist Party and served as a middle-level official under the “reform and opening up” government set up by Deng Xiaoping in the late 1970s, when the household economy, a measure of religious freedom, and some forms of cultural expression were allowed again. In 1991 he became the first, and probably the only, Tibetan official and Party member of that rank to defect whilst on an official visit abroad. He then worked in London for some twenty years as an invaluable translator, advisor and analyst of exceptional ability with those of us then studying and publishing commentaries on contemporary Tibetan affairs.
This book is therefore unique in many ways. Although the author’s opinions of China’s various interventions in Tibetan life are clear both from his writing and from the decisions that have shaped his later life, his book is not designed primarily as a critique of China’s policies in Tibet. It is instead a study of the thinking of elite Tibetan leaders in the years immediately before the arrival of the Chinese Communists, a vivid explanation of the complex issues that they faced, and an important source of insight into why only some of these leaders fled in 1959.
The history told by Jamyang Choegyal suggests a much more complex narrative than found in other accounts of 20th century Tibet. Invasions, radical changes of regime, and extreme reversals of social structure are hardly mentioned in his work except as a painful backcloth to local tensions, suffering and intrigues. It is not that they were not important, and indeed devastating in their impact. Rather, his version of history, written by a participant rather than an outside observer, resists reduction either to the messianic narrative offered by the Communists, in which the suffering masses are liberated from inhuman servitude, or the cataclysmic version sometimes presented by Tibetan nationalists, which tends to depict China’s role in Tibet as a drive to wipe out Tibetan culture if not its people. For both these groups, the years 1950 or 1959 are seen as turning points in history: for China, Tibetan life before that time was a series of inhuman atrocities inflicted on down-trodden serfs by aristocrats and lamas, while for exiles, a life of freedom and contentment was replaced at that time by servitude to an oppressive neighbouring state.
The writer’s concern in this account is however, with a different story, one that tries to describe what it was like to live as a leading figure in those times, and that tries indirectly to explain why key decisions were made, or in some cases, not made. In this account, while life before 1959 was clearly very different from that afterwards, there is no suggestion of a total, cataclysmic change. Modern and pre-modern Tibet may have been different in important ways, but there were also continuities. For the participants, Tibet as described here continued as a distinctive society without a break, even though it was under different rulers, part of a different system, no longer a separate state, and facing enormous pressures and at some times atrocities. The Cultural Revolution, which lasted from 1966 till about 1979 in Tibet, included attempts to eradicate the distinctiveness of Tibetan culture entirely, but is only briefly mentioned in the latter part of the book and again is not presented as a separate period or turning point. These events are written about as changes in government and regime, and often, we can sense, the changes were welcomed with some enthusiasm at the time and only seen as disasters later when they soured. This gives the impression that the writer, at least, and perhaps his father, lived through these events without experiencing them as a total rupture with the past, as if they saw themselves as in some way continuing. They may also have seen their country and identity as fundamentally unchanged as well. There is no other account in English where we encounter this impression of existential continuity throughout this time despite the massive changes forced upon Tibetans by their new rulers.
This sense of underlying identity helps to explain what to outsiders has been one of the most surprising features of recent Tibetan history: the remarkable recovery of Tibetan culture and religion after the death of Mao in 1976 and the ending of the Cultural Revolution. It might also help to explain what must be an even greater surprise to Chinese rulers in Beijing: the resurgence of Tibetan identity and nationalism in the last thirty years, despite the huge efforts of the Chinese authorities to promote socialism, modernization, “patriotic education”, Chinese nationalism, and similar ideologies. It may turn out to be different with the younger generation today, at least in towns, but Jamyang Choegyal’s writing and life-decisions show that, in terms of his sense of who he is and what community, tradition, heritage and nation he belongs to, the fundamental issues have not changed over the course of his life despite the massive reversals in politics that he has lived through.
In the fifty years since the Dalai Lama and his followers left Tibet, still little is known of the thinking of the 97% of Tibetans who remained there after 1959, least of all those who served as senior officials in the new system. Jamyang Choegyal’s study of his father provides an important and unique contribution to deeper understanding of the long-missing portions of that history, and will significantly widen the knowledge of those seeking to grasp the complexities of the Tibetan-Chinese dispute.
Prof Robert Barnett
Columbia University, New York
Professor Barnett is the Founder and Director of the Modern Tibetan Studies Program at Columbia University in New York, and previously co-founded and directed the Tibet Information Network, an independent news and research service based in London. His books include A Poisoned Arrow—the Secret Petition of the 10th Panchen Lama; Leaders in Tibet—A Directory; Lhasa -Streets with Memories; and Tibetan Modernities: Notes from the Field.
It would be impossible to acknowledge adequately all the assistance I have received in presenting my Pala dampa Kashopa’s biography. I began only after I had been assured by Dr Robert Barnett that my standard of English had attained a level where I could write the biography in this, my third language. In the task of presenting Kashopa’s story, with its historical context, and in a truthful and honest way, Their Eminences the late Kyabje Trulshik Rinpoche, the current 102nd Gaden Tripa Rizong Sras Rinpoche, and Dagyab Kyabgon Rinpoche; Her Highness the Gyalyum Chenmo; the Venerable Champa Thegchok, the former Abbot of Sera Jey Monastery; and Kusho Palden Gyatso (a former prisoner of the Chinese who spent 33 years in jail), all provided me with important corroboration to fulfil this obligation. I thank them with all my heart for providing me with irrefutable evidence for Kashopa’s story.
I have drafted and redrafted my manuscript again and again under the guidance of the prominent Tibetan historian Mr Tashi Tsering, who kindly helped me obtain Kashopa’s memoirs from India; and with the help of Mr Rick O’Sullivan, Ms Kate Saunders and Mrs Barbara Barnett who sacrificed their precious time and energy for me. Kungo Rabgang Sonam Paljor also encouraged and assisted me in telling my Pala dampa’s story. I wholeheartedly thank each of these five people for their great contribution in helping me develop an accurate basis for this biography.
Then Rick and Barbara suggested that I should find a professional editor but, as I couldn’t afford to pay someone, I asked Kate, as a long-term colleague and a very talented lady, to be my editor and she agreed wholeheartedly. Kate asked Mr Ben Carrdus to initially assist her in editing my manuscript and planned to do the final editing work herself. Even though at that point most of Ben’s time should have been spent looking after his newborn daughter, he told me he would do his best, and edited both the manuscript and its glossary with great sincerity and effort. I was very touched by his remarkable achievement, his zeal and commitment, and I appreciate it very much.
Following Ben’s input, I made some additions and deletions and sent the manuscript to a small circle of knowledgeable people to seek their advice. Luckily I received positive feedback, in particular from Mr Tsering Gonkatsang at Oxford University, who, to my pleasant surprise, had actually reedited the manuscript without knowing Kate’s original plan, as he wanted to do justice to Kashopa’s story out of his strong sense of fair play. He wrote to me: “…the majority of the people will have a changed and positive view of your late Pala and the honour and respect he deserves for his many contributions to the Gaden Phodrang Government.” Thereupon he also re-edited the manuscript’s glossary and translated much of the Tibetan material. Later, after Kate still offered her excellent editing skills as planned, he once more refined the manuscript while translating His Eminence Dagyab Kyabgon Rinpoche’s personal account of Kashopa. I thank him for his great sense of justice and his contribution to this work. And Kate, as well as editing, was also the one who encouraged and enthusiastically supported my book since its inception. In addition, I was deeply impressed by her act of writing a fact-based article to commemorate my late son Jamphun’s brave deeds for his country. And I must say such noble act towards a deceased person is truly admirable.
During the later stages, I spent some time adding my finishing touches to the manuscript to produce a definitive version ready to be published. Then, as I was about to hand it to the publisher, to my great joy, Dr Robert Barnett offered his help in the final edit of my manuscript. I really felt lucky to receive this respected Tibetologist and humanitarian’s help since my very first day in London following my escape in 1991. As I expected, he did a marvellous job in editing the book and checking its glossary—a reflection of his encyclopaedic knowledge of Tibetan history and culture, and I’m very grateful for his friendship and help in so many ways for more than two decades.
Words fail to convey my grateful feelings to Dr Tsering Shakya and to Dr Robert Barnett for providing a foreword and an introduction; and to Mr Jamyang Norbu and Ms Tsering Woeser for the blurbs they wrote. These highly esteemed scholars’ invaluable support and comments, and their kindness and expertise were an exceptional contribution to my book.
I would like to attribute the completion of Kashopa’s biography to all the people mentioned above and, also to the support, encouragement and invaluable feedback from Lhacham Kelsang Takla, Kungo Tsetashi, Mr and Mrs Tsewang Pemba, Dr Lama Jabb and Mr Tenzin Gelek. In particular, I am indebted to the Tibetologist Mr Matthew Akester for acknowledging an account of Kashopa’s effort to save Tibetan honorific language; and to Mr Sonam Tsering for his great sense of justice and honesty on the Gedun Choephel issue to provide an accurate historical account for the next Tibetan generation. At the same time, I will always remember his kindness for nursing me for two weeks in my flat after my liver transplant surgery.
I was profoundly moved and humbled by Mr Jigme Ngapo, the former director of Radio Free Asia’s Tibetan department, for writing these kind words: “…More importantly, you have the courage to tell your story and actually publish a book! Future generations of Tibetan will thank you for this.”
I’m deeply grateful to Mr Sonam Dugdak for inserting all the pictures and Tibetan characters into the manuscript, for his great contribution to my book by sorting out, with skill and wisdom, all the problems related to my computer and to my daily life. When I had a liver transplant, he nursed me for two weeks at my home; and when I had my kidney surgery in 2014, he once again nursed me for eighteen days at home. I could not possibly have been able to write this book without the help that he and Rick have given me in my everyday life.
I wholeheartedly thank Kusho Geshe Tashi Tsering for giving me private tuition in Buddhist studies and, for bringing me directly the precious blessings and invaluable gifts from His Holiness the Dalai Lama. I also thank him for organising special prayers and presiding over the funeral of my late son, which involved going through all of the relevant religious rituals for the deceased.
Suffice to say, how could I ever forget the great kindnesses of the following people that enabled me to escape and survive in Great Britain, as I have described in the book: HE Dilgo Khentse Rinpoche and his secretary Lama Ngodup, the X Rinpoche near London, Lhacham Kelsang Takla, Dr Robert Barnett, the late Mr David Burgess, the late Venerable Dungkar Rinpoche, Kusho Palden Gyatso, Mr & Mrs Anthony Aris, Mr Palden Langdun and Mr Jigme Langdun, Dr Gyurme Dorje and the late Rigzinla, Mr & Mrs Ngawang Dagpa and their daughter Dickeyla, the late Mr Dakar and his wife Yudonla, the late Mrs Rinchen Dolma Taring, the late Lord David Ennals, the directors of Oakenden Venture Ms Alisa Moore, Mr Losang Yeshi and his wife Ngawang Yangchenla. Also I will always remember with gratitude, how Mr Thierry Dodin did me a great honour on a particular occasion in London. Thus, owing to these good people, and by the blessings of the Three Precious Jewels, I was able to escape and survive.
From the bottom of my heart, I must thank Ms Rigzin Drokar in Canada, and a number of other old colleagues from Tibet who are now living in the West. They have always been kind and supportive. Although I can’t write their names here, they are indelibly printed in my heart. I am deeply touched by their help and great affection toward me in many ways.
I can find no words to express the depth of my gratitude to my versatile cousin Phuntsok Tsering for always being there whenever needed. In particular, his contribution to Kashopa’s biography is invaluable. Recently, some Tibetan intellectuals expressed their pleasure at being able to read the Tibetan transcript of my interview with Radio Free Asia’s Tibetan Department on the issue of “The Kashopa family’s relationship with Gedun Choephel”, and this was all due to his efforts. Despite many claims on his time as the managing director of Tibet House in Germany, Phuntsok still spared no pains in contributing his beautiful calligraphy and other excellent artistic skills to this book. I’m not only grateful for his support but also proud of his wisdom and exceptional talent.
Last but not least, Ms Jane O’Sullivan and her brother Rick must be thanked from the depths of my heart for their long-lasting friendship, and for helping me deal with my everyday life since 1992, particularly during my early, difficult times in London. My English was rusty when I first met them because I had been forced to neglect it for many years, but I’m now able to write this book, and one of the reasons was their help with my English studies. For example, Rick would constantly correct my English, and Jane helped me enrol at Goldsmiths College to take an English course. I’m very much obliged to them. I also thank Jane and Rick for always looking after me whenever I have been hospitalised. For example, it was Jane who led me by my hand to my home from the hospital after my eye surgery, and it was Rick who drove every day between the hospital and my home to see me and to feed my cat. I am privileged to have such good friends.
In the process of writing this, on and off, since 2009, I’ve had further problems with my health, which was already bad enough, including breaking my right arm, which stopped me writing for more than a year, as well as three rounds of surgery that also denied me a great deal of writing time. However, due to the blessings of the Three Precious Jewels, His Holiness the Kundun Yishin Norbu, the Venerable Dagpo Rinpoche; due to the kindness of Great Britain, the excellent medical treatment provided by the NHS and, the help of my friends mentioned above, I have done my best to complete my Pala dampa’s biography.
Once more I would humbly like to express my profound gratitude to all those who have encouraged, supported and shared this book at the various stages of its making. As I have tried to build upon their combined wisdom and hard work, I alone am directly responsible for any errors or omissions herein but, this is their book as well as mine, without them I could not possibly have written it. Finally, I would like to express my deep devotion, gratitude and love to my dear late Kasho and Drangdui parents, my dear late son Jamphun, my dear late brothers Tseten Dondrup and Tsewang Sither , as well as my dear ones left in Tibet, all of whom, past or alive, I miss very much. Their love and support, their perfect and minute care for so many years in so many ways was the sound basis for writing this book, and I believe they would have been proud to know that this small book has finally been completed.
Jamyang Choegyal Kasho
London
January 2015
In dedicating this book, I turn back to the remarkable figure who was such a prominent part of life in our family home when I was a child in Lhasa in the 1930s: the mysterious Kyabje Terton Rinpoche. People in Lhasa at the time nicknamed him “the Crazy Kasho Terton” because of his eccentric behavior, and after all these years, he remains a mysterious enigma to me.
However, when I look back at the long, tortuous road that I have travelled along in my life, I feel that Rinpoche has been the force that guided me throughout this journey. I am profoundly grateful to him for intervening with my parents at the crossroads of my childhood, and steering them in the direction of bringing me up with a modern education. It is because of his foresight and kindness that I am now able to face my autumn years happily writing and humbly offering this small book, at the feet of His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. For this guidance I cannot thank Kyabje Terton Rinpoche enough, and I honour and revere him as one of the great lamas of Tibet who has gained high realization and accomplishment.
My devotion to him is inexpressible. Since my childhood, I have been awestruck by the mystique surrounding Rinpoche and, as I started to write this book, I am stunned by suddenly realizing that even at that time he had foreseen that my destiny and that of my compatriots would be to live as refugees. I learned that Rinpoche prophesied—long before we Tibetans became refugees—that we would leave our Snowy Land of Tibet, and he told us to always remember our homeland under such circumstances.
And so this book tries to do that, as an act of dedication to Kyabje Terton Rinpoche, to tell the story of my Pala dampa Kashopa and Tibet, in what has now become the distant past. May this book once more refresh our memories of our beautiful Tibet, and encourage us towards greater achievements in safeguarding our Tibetan identity, our Tibetan Buddhism, our Tibetan culture and language under the guidance of His Holiness the Great 14th Dalai Lama.
Jamyang Choegyal Kasho
London
July, 2015
HH the Great 13th Dalai Lama
HH the 14th Dalai Lama and HH the 17th Gyalwa Karmapa
HH the 10th Panchen Rinpoche
HH the 14th Dalai Lama with HE Ling Rinpoche (L) and HE Trijang Rinpoche (R)
HH the 14th Dalai Lama with HE Trulshik Rinpoche
HE Dagyab Kyabgön Rinpoche
© Katrin Brüggemann
HE Dudjom Rinpoche (L) and HE Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche (R)
HE Trulshik Rinpoche (R) and the Venerable Sogyal Rinpoche (L)
HE the 102nd Gaden Tripa Rizong Sras Rinpoche
The Venerable Dagpo Rinpoche
Tibetans respectfully add the word dampa after the names or titles of respected or close people who have passed away. This word means “deceased”, “noble” or “excellent”, depending on the context. So here I refer to my father as Pala dampa, which means “Late Father” or “Noble Father”, and others would refer to him as “Kashopa dampa” as a mark of respect. In this book, I will use “Pala” or “Kashopa” for short.
This is the story of Kashopa, my Pala dampa, as I have understood it.
The fact that I have lived long enough to be able to tell this story is not something I have taken for granted: I’m lucky to be here, and in my mind, it has come about because of my faith in His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama, whom I see as the bedrock of my life. This belief also connects me to Pala, for he revered both the current Dalai Lama and his predecessor, the 13th. He cherished them from the depths of his heart, just as, in his own way, he loved his religion and country.
In the last thirty years, western scholars have started to write detailed histories of events in Tibet over the last century, and it was one of these who wrote that Kashopa’s presence is felt in every corner of Tibet’s recent history. His name appears in almost all those histories: he is one of the more controversial and misjudged figures in the last century of Tibetan politics. It is my aim to tell that story for the first time in some detail so that people can assess more accurately the role he played in the difficult and fraught drama of modern Tibet. That story, in short, is about how an ordinary, devoutly Buddhist politician rose from obscurity to become a leading figure in modern Tibetan politics, serving in the government under both the 13th and 14th Dalai Lamas.
The government of the time, known as the Gaden Phodrang or “Palace of Happiness”, followed a unique system which combined both religious and secular aspects of the state. That system placed overwhelming emphasis on the religious role and functions of the government, and its sovereign head, the Dalai Lama, was invested with both secular and religious authority over the country. It was considered a sacred duty and a high honour to be able to serve in the Gaden Phodrang government.
My present circumstances could not be more different from my Pala’s. I was brought up amidst a life of privilege and luxury on a large estate in Lhasa, but now I find myself writing this in a council estate in London where I live a simple life, but one that is content and happy. I began considering this task after a meeting with His Holiness the Dalai Lama at London Heathrow in 2007, when he referred to Pala as the Kasho Sha-pe dampa.1 a term of endearment and respect. This led me to feel a profound sense of duty to tell his story as truthfully as I could, and to do so while at least some witnesses to his life are still alive and in good health, so that they can confirm or refute the accounts that I write here. At around the same time, I learnt that the Dalai Lama’s mother, whom we call Gyalyum Chenmo or “the Great Mother”, had mentioned a particular incident involving Kashopa in her memoirs. That account, about which I shall write later, in a way liberated and spurred me on to write this book.
I am not a historian, and what I’ve written is not objective history based on empirical research in the strict sense of the term. Rather, I have tried to describe the events that took place and to provide the facts about those events, the people involved in them, and the circumstances that led to the decisions taken or not taken by Kashopa as he saw them at the time, as well as my own personal experience and recollections. So this is a personal account of a man whose life, philosophy and service to the Gaden Phodrang government during the reign of two Dalai Lamas earned him many friends as well as enemies, and influenced many aspects of Tibetan history.
This book is also partly a description of Tibetan political system and society in the 1930s and 1940s. This was not a typical period – it was an interregnum, a time when there was no clear leadership, and when there was serious moral and political disintegration. So the book is not about Tibetan society or politics in general, but only about the unusual, desperate situation at that time. This period of Tibetan history has been written about by foreigners mainly from the perspective of the faction that had power during this period, those who supported the Taktra Regent and who flourished under him. That group has usually dismissed their critics as supporters of the Chinese side. But many people who were not linked to the China question in any way were unhappy about the Taktra government and its approach. This book presents some of those alternative views to give some balance to descriptions of Tibet during this interregnum.
This book is not a defence or a criticism of Tibetan society at that time or of the culture or moral practices that were typical then. As a matter of fact, many of us were very unhappy about certain issues then – that was why the promise of a new system at first seemed so inviting. But this is not the subject of this book, which is an account of Kashopa’s views and actions as he understood them.
My objective is not primarily to present his life and work in a good or bad light: I believe it is more important to set the historical record straight for future Tibetan generations. At the same time I am also aware that as a son writing about his father, my perspective and interpretations could suffer from bias. Therefore, wherever possible, I have provided written evidence about relevant historical events given by authoritative people who were witnesses to those events in order to enhance the credibility of these accounts. I have tried to date the historical events as accurately as possible and to bring out Kashopa’s story as truthfully as I can, and I have gone through many drafts and re-drafts of the manuscript to correct inaccuracies, and rewritten sections in the light of information that I found later in reliable published accounts of the relevant figures.
If there are any proceeds from this book, all of them will go to charity.
As Kashopa was a controversial figure, I hope that readers will read the stories critically and draw their own conclusions based on the facts and the circumstances under which he had to operate. In particular, I sincerely hope that future Tibetan generations will hear the tales of old Tibet from enough different sides to enable them to understand the truth, or at least to contribute to their knowledge of Tibet’s recent history.
Kashopa was born in 1902 in Kharka village in Gyantse county, his mother’s only son by her second husband. He was named Choegyal Nyima before his birth by the previous reincarnation of the late Kyabje Trulshik Rinpoche, who also prophesied that in the future Choegyal Nyima would become a great servant of the government. Some time later, a revered Abjor ( 